SERIES PUBLICATIONS OF THE SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION

Emphasis upon publication as a means of “diffusing knowledge” was expressed by the first Secretary of the Smithsonian. In his formal plan for the institution, Joseph Henry outlined a program that included the following statement: “It is proposed to publish a series of reports, giving an account of the new discoveries in science, and of the changes made from year to year in all branches of knowledge.” This theme of basic research has been adhered to through the years by thousands of titles issued in series publications under the Smithsonian imprint, commencing with Smithsonian Contributions to Knowledge in 1848 and continuing with the following active series:

Smithsonian Contributions to Anthropology
Smithsonian Contributions to Astrophysics
Smithsonian Contributions to Botany
Smithsonian Contributions to the Earth Sciences
Smithsonian Contributions to the Marine Sciences
Smithsonian Contributions to Paleobiology
Smithsonian Contributions to Zoology
Smithsonian Folklife Studies
Smithsonian Studies in Air and Space
Smithsonian Studies in History and Technology

In these series, the Institution publishes small papers and full-scale monographs that report the research and collections of its various museums and bureaux or of professional colleagues in the world of science and scholarship. The publications are distributed by mailing lists to libraries, universities, and similar institutions throughout the world.

Papers or monographs submitted for series publication are received by the Smithsonian Institution Press, subject to its own review for format and style, only through departments of the various Smithsonian museums or bureaux, where the manuscripts are given substantive review. Press requirements for manuscript and art preparation are outlined on the inside back cover.

I. Michael Heyman
Secretary
Smithsonian Institution

SMITHSONIAN STUDIES IN HISTORY AND TECHNOLOGY • NUMBER 52

Judaica at the Smithsonian:
Cultural Politics as Cultural Model

Grace Cohen Grossman
with Richard Eighme Ahlborn

SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION PRESS

Washington, D.C.

1997

ABSTRACT

Grossman, Grace Cohen, and Richard Eighme Ahlborn. Judaica at the Smithsonian: Cultural Politics as Cultural Model. Smithsonian Studies in History and Technology, number 52, 252 pages, 142 figures, 1997.—This study surveys the history of the Smithsonian Institution’s ethnographic Judaica collection from its beginnings in the late nineteenth century to the present. It investigates how the particular cultural perspective of the curators and collectors plays a significant role in shaping acquisitions policy and interpretation of the collection through exhibitions and publications. In large measure, the analysis focuses on the period from 1887 to 1927, during which time the collection was substantially formed. The establishment of the Smithsonian’s Judaica collection is framed in the context of the contemporaneous development of the field of Jewish cultural history, the general museum world as represented by the United States National Museum, and the study of Semitics in the academic realm. Special emphasis is given to Cyrus Adler, the founding curator, and to Ephraim Deinard, whose personal collection forms the majority of the Smithsonian’s current Judaica holdings. This volume represents the culmination of the Smithsonian Judaica Project, a decade-long effort to document the entire collection, and the essay is followed by an illustrated catalog of selected objects and a comprehensive database. There is also a basic glossary of Judaica terms and a bibliography. It is projected that this presentation of technical and cultural information regarding the Smithsonian’s Judaica will provide a reference source and a model for additional typological and social studies.

OFFICIAL PUBLICATION DATE is handstamped in a limited number of initial copies and is recorded in the Institution’s annual report, Annals of the Smithsonian Institution. COVER DESIGN: “Star-Spangled Banner” scroll, catalog number NMAH-PH 31842.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Grossman, Grace Cohen

Judaica at the Smithsonian : cultural politics as cultural model / Grace Cohen Grossman with Richard Eighme Ahlborn.

p. cm.—(Smithsonian studies in history and technology : no. 52)

Includes an illustrated catalog of selected objects from the Smithsonian Judaica collection and a comprehensive database.

Includes bibliographical references.

1. Judaism—Liturgical objects—Catalogs. 2. Judaism—Liturgical objects—Pictorial works. 3. Smithsonian Institulion—Catalogs. 4. Jewish museums—History. 5. Jewish art and symbolism. I. Ahlborn, Richard E. II. Smithsonian Institution. III. Title. IV. Series.

NK1672.G766   1997   296′.074′753—dc21   96–45219

The paper used in this publication meets the minimum requirements of the American National Standard for Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials Z39.48—1984.

Contents

SERIES PUBLICATIONS OF THE SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION

Preface

Foreword

Acknowledgments

Introduction

1. The Science of Jewish Art and Culture

2. The United States National Museum

3. Cyrus Adler: Activist Scholar

4. Accreditation of Semitic Study

5. Oriental Antiquities and Jewish Ceremonial Objects

6. The World’s Columbian Exposition

7. The Section of Religious Ceremonials

8. The Ephraim Deinard Collection: A New Factor

9. New Generations

10. Conclusion

Appendices

I. American Jewish Historical Exhibition: Schedule of Objects

II. Classification Used in the Anglo-Jewish Historical Exhibition

III. Religious Ceremonials Exhibition at the World’s Columbian Exposition

IV. “Exhibit of Religious Ceremonials,” New York Evening Post, 6 September 1894

V. Archival Sources

Catalog

Glossary

Bibliography

Database

REQUIREMENTS FOR SMITHSONIAN SERIES PUBLICATION

Preface

After more than a century, the Smithsonian Institution’s collection of ethnographic Judaica merits wider use and recognition by scholars and the interested public. Its creation, as meticulously reconstructed by curator Grace Cohen Grossman, provides a significant insight into the development of institutional thought concerning cultural preservation and performance. The hopeful attitude of Cyrus Adler and George Brown Goode that scholarship would positively impact visitors’ social perceptions of an “other” culture, ameliorating prejudice and extending tolerance to that group, may no longer be an article of faith in the secular world of scientifically derived data. However, data must be manipulated, interpreted, and packaged to become knowledge, and the increase and diffusion of this knowledge remains the goal of the Smithsonian Institution.

The development of an identifiable Judaica collection within the early Divisions of Oriental Antiquities, Biblical Archaeology, and Historic Religions, beginning in the late nineteenth century, reflects the Smithsonian’s quest for both scholarly legitimization and political and public viability. Officials stated that scholarship ultimately would support and confirm society’s moral values. Religion, if scientifically studied, collected, and exhibited, with fine artifactual examples and labels detailing the object’s materials, uses, and meanings, would extend the attentive viewer’s mind past possible biases into a realm of universal tolerance and truth. In this way scholarship could serve the public good.

Although the daily activities of observant Jews became the focus of the Smithsonian’s Judaica collecting in the early twentieth century, it was their specifically religious practices and appurtenances that seemed to provide the best examples for public education about religion. Religion was to be shown as a universal mode of human behavior. By 1950, however, the brutal realities of two world wars in less than thirty years and ethnographic studies of non-Westem cultures had altered the Smithsonian’s practices in regard to the collection, study, and display of religion. In the mid-1960s a display on Judaism became part of the Hall of Asian Cultures in the National Museum of Natural History, but much of the Judaica, because of its European origins, was transferred with C. Malcolm Watkins’s Division of Cultural History to the new National Museum of History and Technology (renamed the National Museum of American History in 1980).

As the 1970s began, the Smithsonian’s Judaica collection was quietly visited by a few scholars, and loans from it continued to be made, but it awaited a champion. Among those who requested to see the Judaica was Grace Cohen Grossman, a young curator from Chicago’s Spertus Museum of Judaica. Despite moving to Los Angeles, where she served as curator for the Hebrew Union College Skirball Museum’s project team to plan a new museum and its inaugural core exhibition and to establish a major collection of American Judaica, Grossman continued to make brief visits to Washington, D.C., to work with the Smithsonian’s collections and documentary resources. The number of identified artifacts gradually rose in number from fewer than 300 to more than 800, and collecting was reinitiated. By the late 1980s Elizabeth Kessin Berman and Sheila Salo had recorded the artifacts’ cataloging data utilizing the Hebrew University’s International Index of Jewish Art system, a task that was made possible by funding from the Horace W. Goldsmith Foundation of New York. The most valuable parchment, paper, and textile artifacts were rehoused by the Smithsonian’s Department of Conservation with great care.

The time had come to plan a publication of the Smithsonian’s Judaica collection. This work was accomplished with another Goldsmith Foundation grant. Claudia Schiffer also made a contribution to further this effort. Grossman prepared the historical essay that follows and produced the accompanying catalog, which has been published with another generous grant, this time from the Joseph and Bessie Feinberg Foundation of Chicago. The knowledge, skills, and patience of Grace Cohen Grossman are very largely responsible for the reactivation of the Smithsonian Institution’s Judaica collection.

Richard Eighme Ahlborn

Foreword

The reader may be bewildered by the presence of a foreward to Dr. Grossman’s masterly volume on the Judaica collection at the Smithsonian Institution that is written by an anthropologist. The reason is that, for historical reasons explored in this volume, some 200 objects of Judaica (even more if archaeological material were included) are housed in the collections of the Department of Anthropology of the Smithsonian Institution’s National Museum of Natural History.

Most Judaica in the National Museum of Natural History is under the curatorship of the Department of Anthropology’s Asian Cultural History Program. In fact, Dr. Grossman’s study dovetails neatly with a wider effort within that program to reinterpret old anthropological collections in light of two components: what they tell about the culture that produced the artifacts, and what they tell about the cultural politics of the collecting culture. These themes were explored, for example, in Artifacts of Diplomacy: Smithsonian Collections from Commodore Matthew Perry’s Japan Expedition (1853–1854), Chang-su Houchins’s 1995 study of the Smithsonian’s very first anthropology accession.

I urge the reader to enjoy perusing Dr. Grossman’s catalog of Smithsonian Judaica in the same way as I have enjoyed reading it: seamlessly, attentively, and without reference to the Smithsonian custodial unit that has “inherited” any particular object. In this volume, Dr. Grossman documents a group of artifacts that were purposefully assembled at many different times and in disparate ways for different purposes. Some were collected as part of a broad and conscientious plan to provide a museum- and library-based scientific infrastructure for studies of Jewish religion, cultural history, and ethnography. Other objects, such as the Hanukkah lamps within the Virgil M. Hillyer Collection of Heating and Lighting Devices, seem to have been acquired as fortuitous, incidental components of globetrotting collecting efforts that were focused elsewhere.

Through the Smithsonian’s Judaica Project, a joint effort of the National Museum of Natural History and the National Museum of American History, the artifacts selected for inclusion in this volume (and others not included here) have been brought together by cross-referencing and standardized cataloging. They now share some of the collective usefulness and meaningfulness that Cyrus Adler and Otis T. Mason hoped to give them. These curators’ somewhat paradoxical dream required that any “ethnographic” collection (one designed to describe, celebrate, or document a particular culture) be inherently “ethnological” (designed to be of value within a larger science of comparative ethnic studies). Collections of material culture, like cultures themselves, had to be described in their own terms, yet the descriptions also had to foster comparative (culture-historical or anthropological) study.

One leitmotif of this volume is the recurrent recognition that our century saw the destruction of so much Judaica in Europe. Those events make the items of Judaica that were saved at the Smithsonian and elsewhere even more precious.

Since 1973, research on the Smithsonian’s Judaica collection has focused on identifying the pan-Smithsonian corpus of Judaica objects for appropriate description and interpretation, and this book is one result of that effort. With the involvement of the many individuals listed in the acknowledgments, the Smithsonian Judaica Project has provided a model of collection-based study whose results extend beyond the publication of this volume. This catalog will introduce the public to this collection and its history, and I hope it will provide the impetus for more detailed studies to follow, such as textual or philological analyses of several intriguing manuscripts listed here. In addition, the Smithsonian’s Judaica Project has resulted in major behind-the-scenes improvements to the process of identifying and cataloging Judaica throughout the various Smithsonian collections. Finally, many of these artifacts have been conserved or restored and their physical storage much improved. In the case of the anthropology collections, this is partly because this project coincided with the construction of a new state-of-the-art storage and research facility, to which the Judaica and many other collections have been transferred. But much of the credit for the physical improvement of the collection is due to Dr. Grossman and her colleagues; from the outset, this research project has included initiatives for the much-needed conservation of the objects themselves.

Paul Michael Taylor

Director, Asian Cultural History Program

Research Anthropologist

National Museum of Natural History

Smithsonian Institution

Acknowledgments

It is quite a challenging experience to work on a history of an extraordinary collection such as the Smithsonian Institution’s Judaica collection and actually to have been a part of that history for over 20 years. In December 1972 I was introduced to a slim volume, published in 1929, entitled Collections of Objects of Religious Ceremonial in the United States National Museum, by Arthur M. Feldman, curator of the Renwick Gallery, who later became the director of the Spertus Museum of Judaica. where I was then curator. The catalog was a revelation that a collection of Jewish ceremonial objects existed at the Smithsonian and that the first objects had been collected in the nineteenth century. From that introduction, the Smithsonian Judaica Project developed. Initiated as an inventory in the 1970s, my research was aided by funding from the Smithsonian Institution’s Office of Fellowships and Grants and from the Memorial Foundation for Jewish Culture. A comprehensive cataloging effort, as well as documentation of the history of the collection, was made possible by the very generous assistance of the Horace W. Goldsmith Foundation, beginning in 1985. At the same time, Smithsonian staff, under the direction of Scott Odell, undertook a major conservation program to preserve and rehouse hundreds of objects in storage. This publication was brought to fruition with a major grant from the Joseph and Bessie Feinberg Foundation. I especially want to thank Reuben Feinberg and Janice Feinberg, directors of the foundation, who truly shared in this vision.

Many individuals have played significant roles in the process. For over two decades, Richard E. Ahlborn, curator of history at the National Museum of American History (NMAH), has been a stalwart advocate of the project. His collaboration has been the catalyst for progress, from the very first attempts to locate the objects through the publication of this catalog. Curators of anthropology Gus Van Beek and Paul Taylor have been supportive of the project and facilitated research at the National Museum of Natural History (NMNH). Tom Freudenheim, former assistant secretary for the arts and humanities, was a staunch proponent of the project, and his enthusiasm for the publication helped keep the momentum going.

Myron M. Weinstein, an expert in paleography and former head of the Hebraica Section of the Library of Congress, undertook the mammoth task of cataloging the approximately two hundred documents in the Smithsonian’s Deinard Collection. Weinstein’s extensive research on Deinard’s bibliographic efforts has been most helpful in illuminating his work as a collector of Judaic artifacts. Elliot Lefkowitz aided in the initial work on Deinard. Nathan Snyder, a colleague during my years at the Spertus Museum, also provided assistance in translations of the manuscript material. Susanne and Paul Kester aided with translations as well. Ulrich Furst played an important role in computerizing the database

A number of individuals who worked on the Smithsonian Judaica Project deserve special recognition. With the support of a grant from the Horace W. Goldsmith Foundation, Elizabeth Kessin Berman worked on the project for nearly two years. She surveyed Judaica in each Smithsonian department, processed the cataloging data for entry on the International Index of Jewish Art forms, and administered the major storage stabilization project with the Department of Conservation. Sheila Salo typed all of the International Index of Jewish Art forms and, in so doing, edited each record. William Diess and Susan W. Glenn at the Smithsonian Institution Archives guided me through the intricacies of the archives to make certain that I could explore each facet of the history of the Judaica collection. Similarly, Rhoda Ratner and Ellen Wells facilitated work in the Smithsonian Libraries. David Shayt, collections manager of the Division of Community Life, contributed to research efforts at the National Museum of American History. Batja A. Bell, museum specialist in the Registrar’s Office at the NMAH, has served as in-house Judaica consultant since 1989. Joellyn Wallen, while an intern at the Smithsonian, assisted in getting the manuscript into its final form, as did Nina Spiegel, a research assistant at the Skirball Museum. Sue Warga did a masterful job of copy editing the final manuscript, vastly exceeding her expected role. Smithsonian photographers Richard Strauss and Ricardo Vargas most admirably met the challenge of making a hundred images in less than two weeks to accommodate my schedule. A listing of other current and former members of the Smithsonian staff who helped make this project possible follows.

National Museum of American History

Office of the Registrar: Jeanne M. Benas, Martha Morris, Katherine P. Spiess

Curators: Rita Adrosko, William Lawrence Bird, Doris Bowman, Elvira Clain-Stefanelli, Coralee C. Gillilland, Anne C. Golovin, Elizabeth M. Harris, Claudia Brush Kidwell, Ramunas Kondratas, Gary B. Kulik, Keith E. Melder, Rodris Roth, Carl H. Scheele, Theresa A. Singleton, Deborah J. Warner, Helena E. Wright

Specialists: Barbara Dickstein, Richard E. Drake, Ellen Roney Hughes, Peter Liebhold, Harry Rubenstein, Anne M Serio, Robert Sheldon

Collections Manager: Barbara Coffee

Office of Exhibits: Deborah Bretzfelder

Conservators: Martin Burke, Ann Craddock, Katherine Dirks, Lynne Gilliland, Nikki Horton, Carolyn M. Long, Carolyn L. Rose, Catherine Valentour

Archives: Laurie Baty, John Fleckner, David Halberstich, Jane Odom, Fath D. Ruffins

Library: James Ryan

Secretaries: Dotty Jacobs, Minnie Krantz, Elizabeth Lamond

National Museum of Natural History

Curators: James Krakker, William B. Trousdale

Collections Manager: Candace Green

Specialists: Margerita Brigida, Joseph Brown, James D. Rubinstein

National Anthropology Archives: Paula J. Fleming, Herman J. Viola

Cooper-Hewitt Museum

Curators: Elaine Dee, David Revere McFadden, Gillian Moss

Freer Gallery of Art

Curator: Glenn Lowry

Volunteers: Lisa Kane, Lauretta Kendrick, Muriel Resnick, Dafna Seligman

Smithsonian Press

Supervisory Editor, Series Section: Diane M. Tyler

There are a number of people whose constructive critiques shaped this work. Barbara Kirshenblatt-Gimblett, who read an early version of the text, advised on the theoretical framework for this study and generously shared with me some of her own research in progress. Jonathan Sarna reviewed the manuscript at several stages and was extremely supportive in aiding me to determine important themes to explore and in providing me with significant source material. Rafi Grafman copyedited all of the catalog entries and made many significant content contributions as well. Richard I. Cohen and Ira Robinson also read early drafts of the essay and made useful comments.

Uri D. Herscher encouraged me to complete my doctoral studies at Hebrew Union College (HUC), and I am grateful to him and to Lee Bycel, who made it possible for me to do so while continuing my work at the HUC Skirball Museum. This essay is developed from my doctoral dissertation, and it benefited immeasurably from the counsel of my professors. I have been most fortunate in having Joseph Gutmann as my teacher for over twenty years. His penetrating analysis is without equal. My dissertation advisor, Stanley Chyet, was a true mentor; he inspired, guided, analyzed, and edited my work incisively and with meticulous care. Michael Signer taught me invaluable lessons in gaining insight in the study of texts. David Ellenson’s approach to modem Jewish thought provided the intellectual contextualization for this work. William Kramer has informally served as my counsel throughout this process, and his advice has been of great importance. I especially want to acknowledge Sally Adler Wolfinsohn, who graciously met with me and allowed me to record her personal recollections of her father, Cyrus Adler.

Numerous colleagues have championed the Smithsonian Judaica Project as it evolved, and their friendship has meant much: Nancy M. Berman, Barbara C. Gilbert, and the entire staff at the Hebrew Union College Skirball Museum; Harvey Horowitz and Yaffa Weisman of the HUC Frances-Henry Library; Emily Bilski, Susan Braunstein, Susan Goodman, Norman Kleeblatt, Vivian Mann, Diane Lemer Saltzman, Ward Mintz, and Joan Rosenbaum, current and former staff at the Jewish Museum; Shalom Sabar and Bezalel Narkiss of the Hebrew University in Jerusalem; Anna R. Cohn of the Smithsonian Institution Traveling Exhibition Service; Michael Grunberger and Peggy Pearlstein at the Library of Congress; Neil Harris at the University of Chicago; Linda Altshuler at the Barnum Museum; David Altshuler of the Museum of the Jewish Heritage; Olga Weiss and Mark Akgulian at the Spertus Museum; Rex Moser of the United States Information Agency; Elaine H. Gurian, Susan Morgenstein, and Gayle Weiss, now independent museum consultants; Darcie C. Fohrman, exhibit designer; Manfred Anson, Bill Gross, Peachy and Mark Levy, Alfred Moldovan, the late Jean Moldovan, Peter Schweitzer, and Benjamin Zucker, collectors of Jewish art.

On a more personal note, the friendship of Jacqueline Koch Ellenson, Deborah E. Lipstadt, and Myra Siff Weiss has been invaluable in helping me to keep perspective and maintain an even keel.

My beloved parents, Rabbi Seymour and Naomi G. Cohen, have patiently encouraged me to “finish up,” and I know this publication will be an enormous source of pride for them. My wonderful sons, Dov and Ari, have never known a time when I didn’t spend my “summer camp” at the Smithsonian. Although I know they missed me, I think the privilege they had of going behind the scenes in the Smithsonian storerooms while growing up was an experience they will never forget. Finally, I wish to thank my husband, Ira, who is my constant tower of strength and support.

Grace Cohen Grossman

The publication of this volume was made possible with a grant from the Joseph and Bessie Feinberg Foundation.

Judaica at the Smithsonian:
Cultural Politics as Cultural Model

Grace Cohen Grossman
with Richard Eighme Ahlborn

____________

Grace Cohen Grossman, Skirball Museum, Hebrew Union College, Los Angeles, California.

Richard E. Ahlborn, National Museum of American History, Smithsonian Institution, Washington, D.C. 20560.

Introduction

In late February 1887 24-year-old Cyrus Adler, who had that very week completed his doctoral studies in Semitics at the Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore, went to the Smithsonian Institution to see an exhibition of photographs of recently discovered ancient clay tablets. To his disappointment, the cuneiform inscriptions had been removed from display; however, it was his good fortune that when he went to inquire as to why they were no longer on view, the curator, Otis T. Mason, chanced to overhear his request. Mason invited Adler to come to his office to view the photographs. By the time their meeting ended, Adler had offered to help the United States National Museum form a collection of casts of Near Eastern antiquities. It was quite common in those days to augment the museum’s small scientific staff with volunteers, and from the position he first assumed, that of assistant honorary curator of the collections of Oriental antiquities, Adler launched a 20-year career at the Smithsonian, during which time he rose to the distinguished rank of assistant secretary.

Cyrus Adler’s association with the Smithsonian may have been the result of serendipitous circumstances, but he earnestly pursued every task he undertook at the United States National Museum. His dedication and hard work secured his position and increasing authority. As a curator, librarian of the Smithsonian, and assistant secretary, Adler played a significant and influential role at a time of tremendous growth in the National Museum. When he left the Smithsonian officially, in 1908, Adler was accorded the lifetime title of honorary associate in historic archaeology. He would, in fact, continue his active involvement with the Smithsonian until the late 1920s.[1]

To more fully understand Adler’s accomplishments, his achievements must be measured in terms of his personal aspirations. Adler was deeply committed to an ideology that shaped his endeavors during his tenure at the Smithsonian. Akin to the movement for the scientific study of Judaism, the Wissenschaft des Judentums, which originated in Germany in the 1820s, Adler’s special agenda was the recognition of the study of Judaism as an essential and valuable aspect of higher learning, one that should take its legitimate place in the world of secular scholarship. However, it should be recognized that, similar to the motivation of the Wissenschaft proponents, Adler’s mission to develop Jewish studies as a scientific discipline was not simply an intellectual pursuit. His quest to establish a Judaica collection at the United States National Museum was a momentous first step toward his ultimate goal of countering anti-Semitic stereotypes and gaining acceptance for Jews as truly equal partners in American society.

For Adler, museum work was only one facet of his remarkable career as an advocate for Jews and Judaism. His campaign also was carried out in the academic sphere, through the field of Semitics, and in the political realm as well. It was Adler’s good fortune that at the Smithsonian he found a congenial and receptive atmosphere. Moreover, his involvement with the Smithsonian occurred at an important juncture for the National Museum, when a new, pioneering philosophy was coming to the fore. Therefore, it also is important to evaluate Adler’s experience at the Smithsonian as it typifies a larger pattern in the realm of collections and exhibitions.

FIGURE 1.—Cyrus Adler. (Smithsonian institution Archives)

In this study, the history of the Smithsonian Institution’s Judaica collection is analyzed as an example of “cultural politics as cultural model.”[2] Cultural politics and cultural model are used here to mean the way in which, at a given time and place, those responsible for developing collections and interpreting them attempt to establish the authenticity and authority of a specific perspective. This perspective may be referred to as cultural politics. The particular series of interpretive methods they choose are the cultural models.[3]

In forming museum collections and using them in part to articulate cultural models, many questions are addressed, either explicitly or implicitly: What is the purpose of forming the collection? Who should do the collecting? How should the collection be constructed and documented, and how should that documentation be recorded? What should be collected? How should the collection be preserved? The way in which these questions are dealt with gives evidence of the philosophy, identity, and values of those making the decisions within the collecting culture and partially defines the culture being collected.

The phenomenon of collecting changes the character of that which is collected. An object that is “collected and thus separated from its original use and environment has the potential for multiple meanings to be ascribed to it.[4] What was once an implement serving a specific purpose becomes subject to new interpretations, including those pertaining to its history, form, and symbolic content. Although “objects speak,” they do so in a symbolic language that has a particular meaning to the people who made and used those objects.[5] Every subsequent encounter is an exercise in decoding, in order to make the objects speak to us, but by the very nature of the means utilized, it is impossible for something not to get altered in the translation.

The process of interpretation is ongoing. After the collection has been arranged in some logical order and made available to researchers and the community of origin, a further transformation occurs. For example, when the artifact is exhibited, the choice of artifacts and the mode of presentation and interpretation reflect the point of view of those who created the exhibition. Through the exhibit display, artifacts and supportive information have the power to create a certain ambiance and thus project a particular cultural message. Ideally the cultural message expressed in the exhibition will be understood by the viewer, but because each visitor comes with a personal agenda, there is no certainty that the visitor will gain a precise understanding of the intended interpretation. This is the case also with publications that describe and discuss artifacts in collections.

In the late nineteenth century, the general climate of cultural politics at the United States National Museum strongly emphasized popular education, which contained a large measure of moral teaching. The cultural model espoused was a methodology that focused on the idea as the central element with the objects serving as illustrations. This approach suited Adler well, because his curatorial efforts, in the form of acquisitions and exhibitions, were bound to the concepts he wanted to explore and the message he wanted to convey. The prominence of the idea was such that George Brown Goode, the theoretician of the new philosophy, even expressed the opinion that “for the purposes of study, a cast was as good as the original.”[6] Indeed, the first collection initiated by Adler for the Department of Historic Archaeology consisted largely of casts reproduced by European museums. His training in the field of Semitics prepared him well for this task. Adler’s expertise in Semitics also enabled him to serve as a special commissioner for the 1893 World’s Columbian Exposition, for which he secured ethnographic exhibits from the Near East.

Adler s entry into the museum field coincided with newly emerging research approaches that emphasized classification and comparative study.[7] Within this context, it is actually quite appropriate that the term that came into use in the nineteenth century for objects collected by a museum is specimen, with its connotation of the item serving as an example of a whole or of a class, especially for scientific investigation. The cultural model that Adler ultimately developed in order to achieve the agenda of his cultural politics was a department of historic religions, which highlighted Judaism but did so within the context of comparative religion. It was a brilliant resolution and one that was completely appropriate within the museum world of the time, although in actuality his goals were not to be realized to the extent he might have liked.

The Smithsonian Institution’s Judaica collection was formed largely during a 40-year period from 1887 to 1927, and therefore this study focuses on that era. Yet it will be shown that from Adler’s partisan ideology in the late nineteenth century to the multicultural issues of today, the cultural politics of advancing the public’s understanding of American Jews and Judaism has been a factor in the development of cultural models, as evidenced in acquisitions, exhibitions, and publications. What is perhaps most extraordinary is how the changes in these cultural models have, over time, altered the meaning ascribed to individual objects.

1. The Science of Jewish Art and Culture

The Age of Enlightenment, first heralded in the seventeenth century, elevated reason to a position of supreme importance. The ethos of the Enlightenment championed the notion that critical, rational inquiry was the key to learning truth. Of great significance was the suggestion by scholars that this approach could be applied even to the study of religion. Originating in Germany, Religionswissenschaft, the scientific study of religion, was an outgrowth of the Enlightenment. In a radical change of perspective, its proponents asserted that religions were not immutable but were rather the products of history. Now, it was argued, it could be demonstrated that religions changed over time and were subject to the vagaries of human experience in their development.

The Enlightenment, along with the process of Jewish emancipation in western Europe beginning in the eighteenth century, brought about a revolutionary transformation in Jewish study. Since antiquity, Jewish learning and religious piety had been inseparably bound. The process of change began in the mid-eighteenth century, most notably in the work of Moses Mendelssohn (1729–1786), who pioneered the haskalah (enlightenment) movement.[1] Then in the early nineteenth century, as Jewish students began to enter the universities, young intellectuals sought to link the study of Jewish religious and historical development to the new canons of modem critical scholarship. In 1819 the Verein für Kultur und Wissenschaft der Juden was founded in Berlin. The adherents of this “science of Judaism movement” aspired to develop a field of Jewish studies as an academic discipline parallel to other areas of study in the vaunted world of the German universities.

In an essay entitled “On the Concept of Judaism,” Immanuel Wolf introduced the importance of the scientific study of Judaism.[2] As he explained, Judaism had never been investigated before from a “wholly independent standpoint.” Until this time the focus of both Jewish and Christian scholars had been theology.

The problem of the bias of Christian scholars had been previously articulated by Leopold Zunz in an 1818 essay, “On Rabbinic Literature.” In the context of exposing the ignorance of non-Jewish scholars about Jews and Judaism, Zunz made a plea for recognition, in university research and teaching, of Judaism, its literature, and the contributions of Jews to many sciences.[3] For centuries, the pattern of studying Jews and Judaism within the framework of Christian theological concerns had reflected the polemics of the relationship between Jews and Christians.[4]

The scientific study of Judaism would institute a new approach. As Wolf described it: “The content of this special science is the systematic unfolding and representation of its object [Judaism] in its whole sweep, for its own sake and not for any ulterior purpose.” Furthermore, in this new age, with Judaism in a “state of inner ferment, striving to assume a shape in harmony with the spirit of the times,” it was essential to confront the crisis by employing the accepted means of the times. Jews “must raise themselves and their principle to the level of a science for this is the attitude of the European world.”[5]

The particular scientific method that Wolf outlined had three parts: first, the textual study of the literature of Judaism; second, the depiction of Judaism from a historical perspective; and third, philosophical analysis according to “its inner essence and idea.”

The Wissenschaft des Judentums movement also had pragmatic aims. In the quest for Jewish political emancipation, the academic study of Judaism aspired to elevate the status of Jews and dissipate centuries-old prejudices and stereotypes by demonstrating that Judaism was an integral part of Western culture that had unfolded in accord with scientific laws. The utopian hope Wolf expressed was: “If one day a bond is to join the whole of humanity, then it is the bond of science, the bond of pure rationality, the bond of truth.”[6]

Moreover, the focus of Wissenschaft des Judentums was not only the study of the past, but also the study of Jewish experience as it advanced into the present. The new studies were to provide the means for responding to the challenges of Judaism’s encounter with modernity and to serve as the basis for all Jewish religious reform and practice.

Although the Verein für Kultur und Wissenschaft der Juden was short-lived (the society formally disbanded in 1824), the ideology of the movement persisted. Once begun, the quest for the “authentic” study of Judaism never ceased.

Jewish Antiquarian Societies: Countering Prejudice with Culture

The hopeful promise of emancipation was not to be fully realized. Yet even though the climate of discrimination against Jews in Europe was becoming increasingly worse, there were scholars who remained steadfast in their idealism. The political events of the last quarter of the nineteenth century forged a role as image-makers for the academics, who often found themselves at the forefront of the effort to bolster the status of the Jewish community in the face of growing political anti-Semitism.[7] There was still a fervent hope that anti-Semitism could be counteracted by scholars whose work demonstrated the “genuine history” of Jews and Judaism.

This phenomenon was manifested in the creation of national Jewish historical societies in the late nineteenth century. The development mirrored a general nineteenth-century preoccupation with the validation of one’s cultural or religious group, as evidenced by contemporary groups such as the Society of Antiquaries in England. The formation of these Jewish historical societies, which were established to research “the antiquity, fate and contribution of Jews in their respective lands of settlement,” revealed the fears and uncertainty of the respective communities, yet ironically they also confirmed the growing world of Jewish scholarship.[8]

The earliest of the national Jewish historical societies, the Société des Études Juives, was founded in Paris in 1880. To be sure, one of its aims was to demonstrate that modem Jewish scholarship was not exclusively the province of Germany; however, its primary mission was to focus on the study of Jews in the history of France and of French Jews in the history of medieval Judaism. In 1897 a pioneering work, Gallia Judaica, authored by Henri Gross, was published. Gallia Judaica is a geographical dictionary documenting all of the places in France where, according to medieval Jewish sources, Jews were known to have lived. The goal was to indicate the extent to which Jewish settlement was part and parcel of French life since the age of Charles the Great.[9]

A collector who epitomized the antiquarian movement was Israel Solomons (1860–1923), a bibliophile and collector of Anglo-Jewish books, manuscripts, prints, bookplates, and documents. His primary reason for forming his collection was to use it to reconstruct Jewish history in England from the time of the readmittance of Jews in the mid-seventeenth century through their acculturation into British life two centuries later. In contrast to many other Jewish collectors of the Victorian period, Israel Solomons was an observant Jew and remained pronouncedly Jewish in his orientation.[10] Paralleling the efforts of other, non-Jewish antiquarians, Solomons formed his collection as a basis for historical research and scholarship as a national, patriotic enterprise. However, Solomons collected Anglo-Jewish objects to demonstrate the Jewish contribution to modem English history, thus proudly demonstrating Jewish patriotism.

Jewish Folklore

Similarly, efforts for ethnographic investigation were initiated by Jewish scholars to counterbalance objectionable characterizations of Jews that were appearing under the guise of academic anthropological investigation. In “Das Judenthum und die Ethnographie,” which appeared in Israelitische Wochen-Schrift in 1873, David Kaufmann (1852–1899) sought to refute these distortions, recognizing that the citing of “science” by the anthropologists was barely a pretext and that their “investigations” demonstrated strong antipathy to Jews.[11]

In Hamburg in 1896, Max Grünwald (1871–1953) issued a call to establish a Museum für jüdische Volkskunde. Like Kaufmann, Grünwald was critical of anthropological portrayals of Jews in racial terms and sought to establish Jewish folklore studies as a means for Jews to represent themselves authoritatively. His belief, as explained by Barbara Kirshenblatt-Gimblett, was that “comparative folklore studies would show the interaction and commonalities between Jews and other peoples, in contrast with anthropology which stressed immutable and despised differences rooted in inherited physical characteristics.”[12]

By the time of Grünwald’s proposal, the documentation of “living communities” was already being facilitated by the advent of photography.[13] As early as 1860 Michal Greim (1828–1911) opened a studio in Kamenets Podolsk, Russia. Greim traveled to small villages and towns to photograph traditional Jewish life. In 1891 he sent a collection of 160 photographs of Jewish life in Podolia and Volhynia (a region of the Ukraine, annexed by Russia in the second partition of Poland in 1793) to Eliza Orzeszkowa, a Polish author, in honor of her jubilee year in the literary field. In 1900 Greim won a silver medal for an exhibition in Warsaw of his photographs of ethnic communities in these rural areas. In 1912, 50 years after Greim’s trailblazing excursion, an expedition organized by S. An-sky returned to these same communities for the purpose of documenting traditional folkways. An-sky collected ceremonial artifacts and communal documents and, with a cylinder recorder, gathered thousands of Yiddish folk songs and tales.

Yet another important contribution to ethnographic and folklore studies was made by Matthias Bersohn (1823–1908), a collector of Jewish and Polish antiquities and works of art. He was the first to photograph wooden synagogues in Poland. A Jewish museum in Warsaw was founded with his bequest. Bersohn’s venture was expanded through the efforts of Majer Balaban (1877–1942), who extensively photographed Jewish landmarks, Jewish life, and Jewish artifacts.

Collecting Jewish Art

A much more revolutionary development was the newly emerging phenomenon of collecting Jewish ceremonial objects. With the separation of these tashmishé kiddusha (implements of holiness) from their functional use in Jewish celebration, the meaning of the objects was profoundly transformed. From the holy, they became cultural artifacts, examples of Jewish heritage.

The formation of collections of Jewish art and artifacts and, ultimately, the establishment of Jewish museums offer yet other examples of the effort to portray Jews and Judaism in a historically accurate manner. Ritual objects, along with ethnographic artifacts, paintings and sculptures on Jewish themes, and memorabilia of important Jewish personalities and key events, were to play a role as “witnesses to history” in the effort to represent the Jewish cultural heritage. This process echoed the agenda of the Wissenschaft des Judentums: to investigate the essence of “authentic” Judaism both for Jews and as a means to help Jews gain acceptance by the community at large.

Beginning in the last quarter of the nineteenth century, collections of Jewish art were formed in Europe, Eretz Yisrael, and the United States.[14] Typically, the collections of Jewish art and artifacts in museums either were formed privately by one individual or resulted from the vision and passion of a single person who spearheaded a particular acquisitions effort. The motivations to form collections were varied, differing from one individual to the next.

Portraying Jewish Life: Moritz Daniel Oppenheim

The metamorphosis from holiness to heritage was presaged in a remarkable series of paintings by Moritz Daniel Oppenheim entitled “Bilder aus dem altjüdischen Familienleben” (“Scenes from Traditional Jewish Family Life”) painted between the 1850s and his death in 1882. From the first publication of a portfolio of six of the paintings in 1866, Oppenheim gained widespread recognition for these works. They mark a watershed in Jewish cultural expression, for they were an early effort to preserve Jewish identity through fine art.[15] In general, Oppenheim’s works on Jewish themes reflect a conscious encounter with the challenges of emancipation and assimilation.[16] Oppenheim’s sensitive and dignified, though anachronistic, portrayals of Jewish life in the ghetto, popular among traditionalists and reformers alike, were a nostalgic anchor in a new and turbulent world.

Moritz Daniel Oppenheim was born in Hanau, Germany, in 1800. The son of middle-class parents, he left home at age 17 to pursue a career as an artist. Oppenheim studied in Munich and Paris and then from 1821 to 1825 trained in Rome with the Nazarenes. Although influenced by these German Christian artists, whose work focused on New Testament themes, the splendor of Catholic churches, and the awesome Christian religious sites of Rome, Oppenheim was drawn to life in the Jewish ghetto. Despite being separated from the Orthodox environment of his youth, he remained loyal to his faith and rebuffed efforts by the Nazarenes to convert him. He persisted in maintaining some traditional customs; for example, he arranged for Sabbath meals in the Roman ghetto.[17] In 1825 Oppenheim settled in Frankfurt, and the Rothschilds became his patrons. Oppenheim received commissions for numerous portraits and historical paintings, and because of his financial success, he became known as “the painter of the Rothschilds and the Rothschild of painters.”

Although it would be three decades before Oppenheim gained renown for his genre paintings of Jewish life, in 1833 and 1834 he painted a landmark work that was a precursor to his later preoccupation. “Return of a Jewish Volunteer from the Wars of Liberation to His Family Still Living in Accordance with Old Customs” expresses the tension between traditional Jewish life and modernity.[18] The painting has been interpreted by Elisheva Cohen as conveying Oppenheim’s dismay at the continued political inequities directed toward the Jewish community. Jewish volunteers had taken part in the wars of liberation against Napoleon Bonaparte; some had lost their lives, and some had been wounded, as was the soldier in The Return.” Yet the Congress of Vienna of 1815, which marked the end of the war, meant the termination of civil rights previously granted to the Frankfurt Jewish community. The old, reactionary policies were re-established, and the debt to the Jews for their participation in the battles was not honored.[19]

The Jews of the Grand Duchy of Baden chose this painting as a gift for Gabriel Riesser, Oppenheim’s closest friend, an eloquent advocate for Jewish rights.[20] The gift was an appropriate one, for it characterized well Riesser’s political ideology that loyalty to one’s faith was not an indication that one was disloyal to the fatherland. In describing the significance of Oppenheim’s depiction of the returning soldier in his home, Riesser wrote, “Indeed the artist has chosen the right picture in order to bring vividly to mind our religion as formed thousands of years ago: the family [as] its sanctuary, parental love as its symbol, father and mother as its priests.”[21]

The idealization of the family was very much in consonance with middle-class German life. An important influence was Die Gartenlaube, a nationally circulated popular weekly that aimed at political liberalization by means of educating the family; the magazine contained some feature for each member of the family.[22] In this milieu, Oppenheim’s “Bilder,” focusing on family life, became celebrated immediately.[23] In addition to the art portfolios, the images also were marketed on postcards and pewter plates.

Oppenheim’s depiction of the life and customs of a bygone world—that is, the pre-emancipation ghetto—is clearly romanticized. It has been suggested that the didactic, nostalgic “Bilder” may be simply a reflection of Oppenheim’s own more observant religious practice in his later years, which is also evidenced in his correspondence. Certainly Oppenheim’s childhood memories served as a basis for his work; however, it is more likely that the main motivation to create the series was the growing assimilation of German Jewry.[24]

Although none of the later works is as overtly political in subject matter as is “The Return,” these works do convey a subtle political message. Oppenheim’s paintings have been described as indicators of the German Jewish conception of emancipation because they “refracted a religious nostalgia fraught with political significance.”[25] The political aspect was in his effort to recast Jews in a favorable light so as to dispel the derogatory view of Judaism maintained by those who opposed Jewish emancipation in Germany and challenged the ability of those who maintained Jewish traditions to become fully patriotic citizens.

Oppenheim’s works, which were intended as a visual primer of “authentic” Judaism for both Christians and Jews, portray Jews as sensitive and dignified and emphasize the importance of morality in Judaism. For Oppenheim, the family was central to the development of moral character and ethical behavior. He underscored the role of the family as a counterbalance to a trend in Jewish life that emphasized the individual and personal expression in one’s daily conduct. Oppenheim focused on Judaism as a religion by stressing the inherent spirituality in following its rituals. In this respect, Oppenheim’s paintings were a “rehabilitation of the pre-emancipation ghetto.”[26] Whereas Jews may no longer have celebrated Judaism in the same way as their forebears had, Oppenheim’s “Bilder” were meant to evoke a sense of pride in the past.

FIGURE 2.—“The Return of the Jewish Volunteer from the Wars of Liberation to His Family Still Living in Accordance with Old Customs,” by Moritz Daniel Oppenheim, Frankfurt, Germany, 1833–1834. (Courtesy of The Jewish Museum, New York. Gift of Mr. and Mrs. Richard D. Levy, the owner maintaining life right; accession number 1984–61)

Exhibiting Jewish Art: The Isaac Strauss Collection

Isaac Strauss (1806–1888), a musician who was chef d’orchestre to Napoleon III, was an avid collector of paintings, sculptures, and decorative art objects. He purchased Judaica during his extensive travels in Europe, especially in Germany. We can only speculate on Strauss’s motives for collecting Jewish ceremonial objects. One suggestion is that nostalgia was his impetus, and that he acquired these objects as a way of relating to his “own origins ... his own family had been quite observant Jews.”[27]

The first time Jewish ceremonial art was ever displayed in a public forum was the exhibition of 82 items from Strauss’s collection at the Exposition Universelle at the Palais de Trocadéro in Paris in 1878. A brief catalog was published to accompany the exhibition.[28] Whatever may have been Strauss’s motives for forming a collection, his decision to bring the objects into the public arena in a museum exhibition meant that the objects were subject to a significantly wider variety of interpretations.[29] The Strauss collection provides a particularly interesting case because of the different circumstances in which it was exhibited: first, as part of a major exposition at the Palais de Trocadéro, among ethnographic exhibitions of many diverse “exotic” cultures; second, at the Anglo-Jewish Historical Exhibition in London in 1887, where, although the exhibition’s focus was Anglo-Jewish history, the objects were intended to represent the finest of Jewish ritual artifacts. In 1890 the Strauss Collection was purchased by Baronne Charlotte, wife of Nathaniel de Rothschild, for the Musée de Cluny in Paris, an art museum, which meant yet another approach to its study, although it was not placed on exhibit there for many decades.[30]

“Religious Liberty” Sculpture: The American Centennial

The official Jewish representation at the 1876 Centennial Exposition in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, provides quite a different sensibility from that of the exhibition of the Strauss Collection at the Exposition Universelle. At the time, there were no Judaica collections in the United States that might have been used to represent Judaism. In any case, at the Centennial Exposition there were to be six monuments sponsored by ethnic and religious groups, so it was appropriate that the planned Jewish contribution to the Centennial Exposition was to be a sculptural work. The theme of the sculpture, “Religious Liberty,” and the selection of Moses Jacob Ezekiel as the artist were determined by the International Order of B’nai B’rith,[31] which commissioned the work. For everyone concerned with the sculpture, the intention was to create a major monument that would make a highly significant symbolic statement at the Centennial on behalf of the American Jewish community.

The proposal for the sculpture was orchestrated by Simon Wolf (1836–1923), who was born in Bavaria and emigrated to the United States in 1848.[32] He became a lawyer and began practicing in Washington, D.C., during the Civil War. During the presidential campaign of 1868, Wolf publicly defended Ulysses S. Grant against charges of anti-Semitism stemming from the infamous General Order 11 of 17 December 1862, which ordered the expulsion of all Jews from areas under Grant’s military control. (The order was revoked by Lincoln.) Although Grant did not subsequently demonstrate any anti-Jewish sentiment, this terrible incident was widely publicized during the campaign, so Wolfs support was helpful. When Grant won the presidency, Wolf was named recorder of deeds for the District of Columbia. Early on, Wolf became an activist for Jewish affairs and was particularly adept at using the political ties he developed in Washington to advance causes of concern to American Jewry. Wolf was active in B’nai B’rith and also served for many years as chairman of the Board of Delegates of Civil and Religious Rights.[33]

Wolf recounted his role in the “Religious Liberty” commission in an address he gave in 1921, at the time of the reinterment of Moses Jacob Ezekiel at Arlington National Cemetery.[34] According to Wolf, he presented the plan at the 40th convention of the Independent Order of B’nai B’rith, held in Chicago in 1874. Ezekiel would later acknowledge his gratitude to Wolf for his role in spearheading this important project:

I... owe the initial steps to you and you alone, and to your lofty clear mind and your most noble desire to reflect honor upon our race: the placing of an enduring record of the one principle of our government which alone prevents the recurrence of oppression, of religious fanaticism and intolerance, and makes our country the most civilized one on the face of the earth.[35]

Moses Jacob Ezekiel was the first American artist of Jewish birth to achieve international recognition. Born in Richmond, Virginia, and a graduate of the Virginia Military Institute, Ezekiel fought for the Confederacy during the Civil War. In 1869 he left for Europe to study sculpture at the Royal Academy in Berlin. In 1873 he was awarded the Michael Beer Prix de Rome, conferred by the Royal Academy in Berlin. According to his memoirs, late in 1873 he received the commission for “Religious Liberty,” and he decided to use his thousand-dollar prize money to travel to America instead of going to Rome, as was expected of him by the academy.[36] Ezekiel wrote of the work “Religious Liberty:”

It seems so strange today to think that I, the great-great-greatgrandson of Manasseh ben Israel, who had induced Oliver Cromwell to introduce religious liberty in England [by readmitting the Jews], should be commissioned to carry out that great idea in enduring marble in America for her centennial year in 1876.[37]

It is significant that Ezekiel’s monument was devoid of any overt religious symbolism and indeed was in no way identifiably Jewish. The iconography, as described in J.S. Ingram’s book The Centennial Exposition Described and Illustrated, explains that the work embodied classical ideals and style:

[“Religious Liberty”] represents Republican Freedom, in the figure of a woman eight feet high holding in her left hand the laws of equality and humanity, and symbols of victory; in her right the genius of Faith raising the burning torch of religion. Liberty is a female of majestic and dignified mien, strikingly grand in the simplicity of her Greek attire. She is clothed in armor. ... The genius of Faith, holding the flaming torch is a handsome youth, naked, symmetrical in all its forms. The crown of laurel, the instrument of the American Constitution, the colossal eagle crushing the serpent (the symbol of tyranny) typify the glory and power of the country of Washington.[38]

The artist’s intention was to create an allegorical portrayal of the universalist message of Liberty, as guaranteed by the Constitution of the United States. This theme echoed Ezekiel’s own sentiments about Judaism:

I must acknowledge that the tendency of the Israelites to stamp everything they undertake with such an emphasis is not sympathetic to my taste. Artists belong to no country and to no sect—their individual religious opinions are matters of conscience and belong to their households and not to the public. In reference to myself, this is my standpoint. Everybody who knows me knows that I am a Jew—I never wanted it otherwise. But I would prefer as an artist to gain first a name and reputation upon equal footing with all artists in art circles. ... I do not want to be stamped with the title of “Jewish sculptor.”[39]

Ezekiel worked on the commission for two years in Rome. Because he was late in completing the work, “Religious Liberty” arrived after the close of the Centennial Exposition, and the unveiling of the monument in Fairmount Park was scheduled for 4 July 1876.[40] Wolf had hoped that President Grant would attend the ceremony. In his letter of invitation, Wolf wrote:

This evidence of patriotism and of love of liberty on the part of American citizens of Jewish faith is in keeping with their history and lofty ideals and conception of duty. No class of citizenship has been made happier by religious liberty than the Jew, for the denial of that liberty in other lands has been the cause of endless persecution and misery. We sincerely trust that this statue, typifying so grandly the separation of church and state, may be an inspiration and an example for all the generation of the future.[41]

FIGURE 3.—“Religious Liberty,” by Sir Moses Ezekiel. (National Museum of American Jewish History)

Grant’s response duly praised the Jewish community:

I congratulate you and all concerned for this splendid contribution on the part of American citizens who at all times, in war and in peace, have shown their loyalty and patriotism an and in behalf of the Republic.[42]

In representing religious liberty, this sculpture, which was “dedicated to the People of the United States by the Order of B’nai B’rith and the Israelites of America,” epitomized the ideal view that Jews were indeed equal to all other Americans. Moreover, Jewish sentinels were on the alert to ascertain that American civil liberties would be upheld.

FIGURE 4.—Anglo-Jewish Historical Exhibition, with spice boxes from the Strauss Collection; NMAH 154570 (photo 11). (Negative number 92–16404)

FIGURE 5.—Anglo-Jewish Historical Exhibition, with Torah scrolls from the Sassoon Collection; NMAH 154570 (photo 7). (Negative number 92–16405)

The Anglo-Jewish Historical Exhibition

The Anglo-Jewish Historical Exhibition, presented in 1887 at the Royal Albert Hall in London, was the first major exposition organized to further interest in the historic preservation of Judaic art and artifacts. Plans for the exhibition grew out of the attempt to establish an Anglo-Jewish Historical Society, initiated by Lucien Wolf and Alfred Newman.[43] Wolf and Newman had each submitted letters to the newspaper Jewish World proposing the society, but they received no response. However, Newman’s campaign against the demolition of the Spanish and Portuguese Bevis Marks Synagogue galvanized public opinion and brought the issue of historical preservation to the fore.[44] Sir Isidore Spielmann (1854–1925), an organizer of art exhibitions, suggested to Wolf that the best way to accomplish the goal of establishing the society was through an exhibition.

The stated objectives of the exhibition were “to promote a knowledge of Anglo-Jewish History; to create a deeper interest in its records and relics, and to aid in their preservation” and “to determine the extent of the materials which exist for the compilation of a History of the Jews’in England.”[45] A massive undertaking, the landmark exhibition comprised over 2,500 ritual objects, antiquities, paintings, documents, books, and prints, which were borrowed from some 345 lenders, both individuals and institutions. Among the private collections of Anglo-Jewish historical objects that were borrowed were the collections of the exhibition’s organizers, Newman and Wolf. Israel Solomons also was a major lender. In addition to items of Anglo-Judaica. Solomons lent several ceremonial objects, which he had acquired at auction [46] Although the original intent had been to focus only on Anglo-Jewish history, it was decided to include examples of Jewish ceremonial art as well, no matter what the country of origin.

The collections of Isaac Strauss and Reuben D. Sassoon (1835–1905) were the highlights of the ceremonial art section of the exhibition.[47] The Strauss Collection, which now numbered 129 objects, was brought over from Paris. The Sassoon Collection was purchased, in large part, from Philip Salomons (1796–1867), the brother of Sir David Salomons, the first Jew to serve as Lord Mayor of London. The collection formed by Philip Salomons was for use in the private synagogue in his Brighton home. Sassoon added this to the group of objects he had acquired for his own private synagogue.[48]

It was vital to the planners of the exhibition that it not be viewed solely as a sectarian enterprise. The general committee overseeing the exhibition was diverse and ecumenical, including Christian clergy and representatives of secular academic scholarly organizations, such as the Royal Archaeological Institute and the Anthropological Institute. Supplementary exhibitions were held at the Public Record Office, the British Museum, and the South Kensington Museum.

The specter of the Wissenschaft des Judentums admonition that support of “authentic” Jewish scholarship was a Jewish responsibility was evident in the publicity issued prior to the opening of the exhibition:

It is the duty of English Jews to support the Exhibition by attendance and interest. The outside world will look upon the success of the exhibition as a test of the position of the Jews in public esteem. They will justly argue that if Jews take no interest in their history, they themselves need not do so. The very fact of the Exhibition is a proof that a deep interest is taken in the communal history by the leaders of the community, and where they lead there i5 little fear the community will follow.[49]

The exhibition had a clear political agenda: to stress to the community at large the positive aspects of Judaism and to dispel negative stereotypical images of Jews. The success of this effort was optimistically reported in an article written after the exhibition’s opening:

The Exhibition is a remarkable record of prejudices outlived by dint of honorable conduct, a record of which not only Jews may be proud, but of which England has reason also to be proud. England has to be proud of her treatment of Jews, and Jews have to be grateful to the great country that has held up the beacon of tolerance through so many years of misrepresentation and ill-will. From this point of view the Exhibition is truly Anglo-Jewish, and in the best sense of the word, national.[50]

The public presentation of Jewish ceremonials and documents and artifacts of Anglo-Jewish history was not universally supported, however. In answer to the exhibition’s detractors, the Reverend Dr. Hermann Adler[51] addressed this issue in a sermon delivered at the Bayswater Synagogue on 15 April 1887, two weeks after the exhibition opened to the public:

The question has been raised, is it wise for our community thus to thrust itself upon public notice? Do not our strength and our wisdom lie in a dignified reserve, and in the absence of all ostentation? ... Our purpose has not been to put in evidence proofs of the Hebrew’s wealth, evidences of his superior skill and intelligence. The main object of the collection gathered in the Albert Hall is educational and instructive; to diffuse by means of object lessons some knowledge of Hebrew antiquities generally, and more particularly of the history of our race in the British Empire. ...

Had there been less mystery about our religious observances, there would, perhaps, have been less prejudice, certainly less foul aspersion.[52]

The conscious effort to reach out to the non-Jewish community in an attempt to improve the political status of the Jews was successful, at least in Adler’s view. A milestone in Anglo-Jewish history was reached with the invitation to the Jewish community to participate in a nondenominational service of thanksgiving in honor of the Jubilee celebration for Queen Victoria. According to Hermann Adler, this was the first time the Jewish community had been included in such a service, a fact he attributed to the Anglo-Jewish Historical Exhibition.[53]

The field of Anglo-Jewish history benefited tremendously from the exhibition, with a series of scholarly papers presented weekly at the Royal Albert Hall as well as a number of publications. In an effort to be as comprehensive as possible, the exhibition catalog attempted to list every known object of Anglo-Judaica as well as all of those exhibited. The organizers original goal also was achieved with the establishment of the Anglo-Jewish Historical Society in 1893. The London Jewish Museum was not established until 1932.

Establishing Jewish Museums

VIENNA

In the 1890s in Europe there was a flowering of interest in the study and exhibition of Jewish artifacts and the formation of Jewish museums. This phenomenon reflected a general trend on the continent, where numerous ethnographic museums were established in the late nineteenth century. In the spirit of the Wissenschaft des Judentums movement, the intention of the Jewish museums was to follow the principles of scientific research in acquiring and exhibiting items of the Jewish cultural heritage, with the assumption that such objective study would convey a positive image of Jews. The study of artifacts in a museum was seen as parallel to the study of texts in a library: the objects were “documents” to be employed in the process of critical, rational inquiry.

The Gesellschaft für Sammlung und Konservierung von Kunst und historischen Denkmälern des Judentums (Society for the Collection and Conservation of Jewish Art and Historic Monuments) was established in Vienna in 1895. The Vienna Jewish Museum, which was established later, was destroyed by the Nazis during World War II.

HEINRICH FRAUBERGER: DÜSSELDORF AND FRANKFURT AM MAIN

In 1901 a group with similar goals, the Gesellschaft zur Erforschung Jüdischer Kunstdenkmäler (Society for the Research of Jewish Art Monuments) was founded in Frankfurt am Main. Interestingly, the force behind the formation of the Frankfurt society was Heinrich Frauberger (1845–1920), a Catholic art historian and director of the Düsseldorf Kunstgewerbemuseum (Museum of Applied Arts). Frauberger was the first trained art historian and museologist to take an interest in the field of Jewish art. Frauberger’s concern for the preservation of Judaica is said to have stemmed from a personal incident: In 1895 he was consulted about the design for a railing around a Jewish grave, and, unable to find adequate resources to respond to the inquiry, Frauberger determined to begin to study and collect artifacts of the Jewish cultural heritage.[54] Although several German museums had begun acquiring Judaica as a consequence of ethnographic studies and a general interest in religion, Frauberger’s plan was much more ambitious.[55] In 1908 Frauberger organized the first exhibition in Germany of Jewish ceremonial objects; it was installed at the Düsseldorf Kunstgewerbemuseum. The Jewish Museum in Frankfurt was established in 1922; looted by the Nazis during World War II, it was reopened in 1988 in the former Rothschild Library.[56]

SALLI KIRSCHSTEIN: BERLIN

Frauberger himself amassed a private collection of Judaica. It was purchased about 1908 by Salli Kirschstein (1869–1935), a successful Berlin businessman whose avocation was Jewish art. He wrote extensively on art and formed an important collection of Judaica, which he displayed in a private museum in his home. Kirschstein wrote that the catalyst for his forming a collection of objects of Jewish culture was the very lack of representation of Judaica at the Arts and Crafts and Ethnology Museum in Berlin: “In the Ethnology Museum in Berlin, in its all embracing exhibition, in which all the nations of the world, from the most primitive to the most culturally advanced are represented, the Jews alone are absent!”[57]

Kirschstein, in the spirit of Wissenschaft des Judentums, believed that the study of Judaism—in this instance, the collecting and researching of objects representing the Jewish cultural heritage—was a vital link between the past, present, and future of the Jewish people as well as a way to counteract anti-Semitism:

A museum must concentrate [on making the past] come alive and serve as a source of contemplation and knowledge. A Jewish Museum can be of great value in keeping out people together. It can also considerably influence the attitude of non-Jews toward Jews and Judaism, because the meager knowledge of Jewish life is and has been one of the strongest motives for anti-Jewish attitudes.[58]

Six thousand items from Kirschstein’s collection were sold to Hebrew Union College (HUC) in 1925. The Kirschstein Collection is now housed in part at the HUC Klau Library in Cincinnati, with most of it at the HUC Skirball Museum in Los Angeles. A Jewish museum was established in Berlin after World War I; the nucleus of the museum was a bequest by Dresden collector Albert Wolf (1841–1907) of ceremonial objects, medals, and portraits. The museum was plundered by the Nazis during World War II.

SALOMON HUGO LIEBEN: PRAGUE

In Prague, the effort to establish a Jewish museum was spearheaded by Salomon Hugo Lieben (1881–1942), a historian who taught religion in Prague’s German-language schools.[59] The situation in Prague was similar to the one in London in that Lieben’s initial efforts were prompted by the threatened demolition of several historic synagogues. Despite his efforts, however, the synagogues were destroyed. Also like the Anglo-Jewish collectors, Lieben had a nationalist bent, and he wanted particularly to preserve the cultural heritage of Bohemia and Moravia.

Lieben endeavored to preserve the artifacts of other synagogues that had fallen into disuse. In 1906 he created the Verein zur Gründung und Erhaltung eines jüdisches Museums in Prag (Organization for the Founding and Maintenance of a Jewish Museum in Prague). Lieben’s work further extended to rural villages in his attempt to locate objects. The collection he amassed, approximately 1,000 ceremonial objects and 1,500 Hebrew books and manuscripts, was first housed in 1912 in the former building of the Jewish burial society; in 1926 it was moved to the Ceremonial Hall in the heart of Prague’s Jewish Quarter.

A bizarre fate befell the Prague Jewish Museum during the Nazi regime. In 1941 the Nazis designated the museum as the depot for all of the synagogue treasures from Bohemia and Moravia. Moreover, as Jews were deported, objects from their homes were shipped to the museum as well. The Nazi plan was for this reconstituted museum to serve as the centerpiece for anti-Semitic propaganda and ultimately as a museum of the destroyed Jewish people. As a result, the State Jewish Museum in Prague has the largest collection of Judaica in the world.

LESSER GIELDZINSKI: DANZIG

A rather unique antiquarian interest is what motivated Lesser Gieldzinski (1830–1910) to form a phenomenal collection of “Danzigiana.”[60] Gieldzinski, who was born in Poland, settled in Danzig in 1860 and became a successful grain merchant. He was a passionate collector and an extraordinary connoisseur. His home became a veritable museum, and he counted among his distinguished guests the German kaiser Wilhelm II and his wife, Augusta. Gieldzinski wore with pride a medal given to him by the kaiser.

Gieldzinski was also a committed Jew who served on the board of directors of the Synagogen-Gemeinde from 1884 until his death, in 1910. He formed a superb collection of Judaica, which he donated to the Great Synagogue in Danzig (Gdansk, Poland) in 1904 to commemorate his 75th birthday. He stipulated that the collection should be housed in its own room, to which entry should be free to all. Gieldzinski tried to acquire any Judaica that had a Danzig connection, thus bringing together his dual allegiances. For instance, a miniature Torah ark fashioned after the Brigitenkirche Tower in Danzig is a quintessential example of the characteristic adaptation of local styles in the creation of Jewish ceremonial objects.

In 1939 the Gieldzinski Collection, along with the ceremonial objects of the Great Synagogue of Danzig, was sent to the Jewish Museum in New York for what was hoped would be temporary safekeeping. It was stipulated that if after fifteen years there were no safe and free Jews in Danzig, the collection should remain in America for the education and inspiration of the rest of the world. The collection, of course, has remained in America.[61]

BORIS SCHATZ: ESTABLISHING JEWISH ART IN ERETZ YISRAEL

The prime mover behind the effort to establish a school for Jewish arts and crafts in Eretz Yisrael was Boris Schatz, who founded the Bezalel School for Arts and Crafts in Jerusalem. Schatz (1866–1932) was born in Lithuania, studied art in Paris, and in 1895 became court sculptor to Prince Ferdinand of Bulgaria. Schatz met Theodor Herzl in 1903 and became an enthusiastic Zionist. Schatz later would write that Herzl was receptive to his plan to create the school, which was both ideologically aligned with Zionist ideals and pragmatic in its approach. His ideal was that a Jewish art should be created by weaving together the cultural threads that had been pulled apart and damaged during the two thousand years Jews had lived in the Diaspora. But this was not to be “art for art’s sake.” Schatz, although trained in the fine arts, was a realist and stressed that the students should learn crafts, which would bring revenue to the school and, in turn, help support their studies. According to Schatz, during the course of their conversation Herzl inquired as to the name of the proposed school, and Schatz responded, “Bezalel, after the first Jewish artist who built us a sanctuary in the wilderness.”[62]

In the wake of Herzl’s sudden death in 1904, Schatz sought the approval of various Zionist institutions to help make his dream a reality.[63] At the 1905 Zionist Congress Schatz presented his proposal, which was accepted, and in 1906 the school was established.

Soon after the establishment of the school, the Bezalel Museum was founded, primarily to serve as a resource for the students. The school was closed during World War I and again after Schatz died in 1932. The Bezalel Museum later was incorporated into the Israel Museum in Jerusalem. The school, now known as the Bezalel Academy of Art and Design, remains an independent entity.

CYRUS ADLER: JUDAICA AT THE UNITED STATES NATIONAL MUSEUM

Cyrus Adler’s efforts to create a collection of Judaica at the United States National Museum take on even greater significance when analyzed in light of these patterns of development of the study and preservation of the Jewish heritage, as reflected in the establishment of societies and museums in Europe and Palestine during the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Adler, as a result of his Semitic studies, was well aware of the acquisitions of recently discovered archaeological artifacts in the major European museums. His offer to form a collection of casts of Near Eastern antiquities was grounded in his knowledge of those collections. Moreover, he traveled to Europe several times and met with numerous individuals from the general museum world as well as with his Jewish contacts.[64]

Adler’s goal for the Judaica collection at the Smithsonian was to teach about Judaism through ceremonial objects in a scientific, objective way. Adler believed that there was a continuous link between biblical Judaism and contemporary Jewish ritual practice. This meant that the Judaica collection should logically begin with the Bible and biblical antiquities.[65]

Adler’s endeavors in the museum world and in the Jewish community demonstrate his ardent belief that the study of Judaism, according to the principles of modern scientific scholarship, would counteract prejudice and elevate the status of Jews and Judaism, both in a historical perspective and in contemporary society.[66] It is ironic, and yet quite understandable in view of the historical baggage of the Jewish experience in Europe, that it would be in America at the United States National Museum that the aspirations of the Wissenschaft des Judentums would be most nearly met.[67]

2. The United States National Museum

The Smithsonian Institution was established as the result of a bequest in 1829 to the United States from James Smithson, an Englishman. The stipulation in his will, the meaning of which would be subject to intense debate, was that the funds be utilized for “the increase and diffusion of knowledge among men.”[1] Notification of the bequest to United States officials was not forthcoming until 1835, and even then, because of legal complications, the monies were not made available until 1838. It took nearly another decade for Congress to decide among the various proposals and legislate how the terms of the will should be met. Former President John Quincy Adams, then serving as a member of Congress from Massachusetts, led the effort necessary even for the gift’s acceptance. Adams, who had been unsuccessful as President in his attempts to elicit support for government sponsorship of cultural affairs, saw the Smithson bequest as a unique opportunity to underwrite privately what was not funded as a matter of public policy.[2]

In August 1846 an act was finally passed founding the Smithsonian Institution. Congress mandated that a museum, library, gallery of art, and lecture room be established. Furthermore, the Smithsonian was designated as the repository of the collection of “curiosities” that was owned by the government. The governing body was to be a board of regents composed of representatives from the three branches of government, as well as a number of private citizens. The new institution was to be administered by a secretary selected by the regents.

Although the congressional act did not specifically provide for the support of original research, the selection by the board of regents of Joseph Henry (1797–1878) as the first secretary suggests the expectation that the Smithsonian Institution was to be a major research center. Henry, a pioneer in the study of electromagnetism, aimed to establish the Smithsonian as an institution that would advance the scientific character of the nation through its research and publications. He adamantly maintained that it was in the best interest of American science, and indeed was crucial for the very well-being of the nation, that the Smithson monies not be squandered on “bricks and mortar” or other projects that would not increase knowledge.[3] In September of 1846, just a month after the congressional vote, Henry was asked for his opinion on the meaning of the Smithson bequest, and he responded as follows:

There are at this time thousands of institutions actively engaged in the diffusion of knowledge in our country, but not a single one which gives direct support to its increase. Knowledge such as that contemplated by the testator can only be increased by original research which requires patient thought and laborious and often expensive experiments. There is no civilized country in the world in which less encouragement is given than in our own to original investigations and consequently no country of the same means has done and is doing so little in this line.[4]

Once he became secretary, Henry delineated his cultural model in the “Programme of Organization of the Smithsonian Institution,” which he reprinted in each annual report during his administration.[5] The board of regents approved most of the plan in December 1847. However, Henry’s approach was opposed by Charles Coffin Jewett (1816–1868), an innovative librarian, whom Congress appointed his deputy in 1847. Jewett’s aim was to focus on the “diffusion” provision of Smithson’s bequest by establishing a national library.

Henry tried assiduously to avoid establishing a museum. It was not that he was against objects per se. Henry was sensitive to what could be learned through observation: “It is in the study of objects, considered trivial and unworthy of notice by the casual observer, that genius finds the most important and interesting phenomena.”[6] However, he opposed museum collections that were not formed specifically for the “increase of knowledge.” Still, the board of regents prevailed upon him to develop a museum and permitted him to select an assistant secretary to manage it. In July 1850 Henry chose Spencer Fullerton Baird (1823–1887), a naturalist, to fill the position. From Henry’s perspective, a scientist such as Baird was the best possible choice. At least Baird’s collecting activities were acceptable in Henry’s estimation, though his methodology was “descriptive, taxonomic, systematic investigation,” as opposed to the analytic, theoretical research that characterized Henry’s own work.[7] Although Henry’s post as secretary enabled him to continue to promote his own views, the appointment of Baird, a professional scientist, to the post of director marked the first step in striking a compromise between professional science and popular education.

This compromise was to become the hallmark of American museums.[8] Because of the philosophy that any hard-working individual could “make it” in America, support for public education grew. Also, the new nation had reached the stage of heightened awareness of the importance of historical study and preservation, which had an impact on the museum world. Moreover, the museum as a vehicle of popular education was promoted by the phenomenon of international expositions, the first of which was held at the Crystal Palace in London in 1851. Such expositions represented a monumental prototype for institutions that would illustrate the great advancements of modernity (made possible through scientific study) and make them accessible to all.[9]

In the next two decades, three factors convinced even Joseph Henry that popular education also should become a priority of the Smithsonian. The first was a protracted struggle with Jewett, finally resolved in 1855 by the dismissal of Jewett after a bitter public battle, which even entailed investigations by both houses of Congress. In 1866 the major part of the Smithsonian’s library holdings were transferred to the Library of Congress. Baird, who had initially been an informal supporter of Jewett, reverted to Henry’s camp. In order to assure his continued allegiance, Henry made a deal with Baird that he could begin to work toward building a major museum.

The second factor was the transfer to the Smithsonian of the Patent Office collections in 1857. A $4,000 annual government appropriation was to support the care of the objects. Though Henry had no choice but to accept the decision, he continued to push for more adequate funding, both to ensure the preservation of the enormous collection and to ensure public access to the materials through exhibitions. Because Henry equated the forms of display common at the time with garishness, which he felt would diminish the dignity of the Smithsonian, he relied on Baird’s expertise in developing exhibitions that would be educational. As a result, the Smithsonian moved ever further toward becoming a research-oriented museum.

The Civil War was another cause of change. During the war years great numbers of visitors, both civilians and soldiers, passed through Washington, and many came to see the museum. This had a great impact on Henry, who came to the realization that the museum could indeed be a tremendous educational resource. In the 1865 annual report he wrote that museums were “of great importance as a means of intellectual improvement, of rational enjoyment, and as receptacles of interesting materials for the use of the student in any branch of learning.”[10] By 1870 Henry had made a complete about-face. Now he considered popular education to be the cultural imperative of the nation, and he revised his original cultural model for the Smithsonian so that scientific investigation and public education would be coequal.

In the years following the Civil War, the role of the Smithsonian as a resource grew as Washington became an intellectual center of consequence and the government was increasingly a major force in the scientific field. During this time, a great diversity of forums for discussion emerged, including the philosophical, literary, anthropological, and biological societies of Washington.[11]

The post-Civil War era found the United States at a spiritual crossroads. Technology and the progress it wrought created a paradox. The technological advances of the first half of the nineteenth century had profoundly influenced the emerging nation and were the catalyst for tremendous growth and westward expansion. After the Civil War, there was to be a further dramatic change in American society as a result of industrialization. In the process, there developed a sense that civilization was no longer the master of its own works. To meet the demand for labor, great numbers of people from rural areas flocked to the cities. In addition, there were now large numbers of immigrants arriving, which contributed to overcrowded conditions in the rapidly growing urban centers. There was a growing disparity between the rich and the poor, and discontent led to the demand for reform. In this time of uncertainty, there were those who saw the potential for museums, along with public schools, to play an important role in the education and socialization of the masses, a role that had moral and political implications.

It was in this environment that the United States National Museum embarked on an era of growth that would long shape its development. Despite his acceptance of the role of a national museum, Joseph Henry was never sanguine about the Smithsonian serving in that capacity. Even in his final annual report in 1877 Henry wrote, “The functions of the Institution and the Museum are entirely different. ... The support of such an establishment [a museum] must, of necessity, be derived from Congress and no part of the income of the Smithson fund should be devoted to this purpose.”[12] However, Henry was never able to realize his goal of separating the United States National Museum from the Smithsonian Institution.

Spencer F. Baird was appointed secretary in 1878, after Henry’s death. Many changes had already been instituted since 1850, when Baird had become assistant secretary in charge of publications and the museum. No longer constrained by Henry, Baird was now free to promote his own agenda, which emphasized popular education by making the collections more accessible to the public. During his tenure as secretary, it was necessary for Baird to devote the majority of his efforts to administrative management, for he wanted to keep operational matters under his personal supervision. He had little time for his own research.

Fortunately, Baird had capable assistants as directors of two of the major facets of the Smithsonian. Under the enterprising and imaginative guidance of George Brown Goode, the United States National Museum achieved new stature. In addition, a new allied entity, the Bureau of American Ethnology (BAE), came under the aegis of the Smithsonian Institution in 1879. The BAE was the agency established to be responsible for all of the anthropological work of the four major surveys of the trans-Mississippi region. Though the surveys had already been consolidated into one bureau, the United States Geological Survey, which was administered by the Department of the Interior, the BAE was created to avoid the problem of political pressures influencing scientific investigation. Major John Wesley Powell, who conducted one of the surveys, was appointed director of the BAE.[13]

George Brown Goode: Theoretician for Change

The theoretician—the conceptual model-maker—of a new, holistic philosophy that would indeed lay the foundations for the Smithsonian as it exists today was George Brown Goode. Largely because of his inspiration, the Smithsonian assumed a leadership role at a time of great museum expansion in the United States. The evolution in museums in this period is linked to what has been termed the American Renaissance, which flowered in the late nineteenth century and is apparent in the creation and advancement of other public institutions, such as libraries, universities, and orchestras, and in the numerous commemorative monuments, industrial fairs, and expositions that celebrated America’s progress.[14] This movement reflects a postbellum intensification of nationalism and the need to reunite the war-divided country. Goode believed that museums could play a major role in the education and enlightenment of the general public.

FIGURE 6.—George Brown Goode. (Smithsonian Institution Archives)

George Brown Goode (1851–1896) was the scion of a family of old-stock Virginians and New Englanders. Goode was tutored at home and then entered Wesleyan College at age fifteen. After graduating in 1870 he studied briefly under Louis Agassiz at Harvard at the Museum of Comparative Zoology. When he initially came to Washington, Goode was involved with the United States Fish Commission. In 1871 he began working at the Smithsonian as a volunteer and almost immediately became the protégé of Spencer F. Baird.[15]

In 1875 Baird asked Goode to take responsibility for the organization of the zoological display at the Centennial Exposition in Philadelphia. Baird’s plan was to acquire as many specimens as possible from the fair in order to have leverage to pressure Congress for monies for a new building for the National Museum. Baird’s plan was successful, and some 48 freight cars of objects came to Washington after the Centennial.[16] In 1878 Congress authorized funds for a “fire-proof’ building for the use of the National Museum. When Baird became secretary, Goode was appointed assistant secretary of the museum and took over the day-to-day tasks of overseeing the collections.

Also at this juncture, an act of Congress in June of 1880 clarified and bolstered the relationship between the “increase of knowledge,” as represented by research, and the “diffusion of knowledge,” as manifested in museum exhibitions, publications, and public programs. It was legislated that the material findings related to research should be saved.

All collections of rocks, minerals, sails, fossils, and objects of natural history, archaeology, and ethnology, made by the Coast and Interior Survey, the Geological Survey, or by any other parties for the government of the United States, when no longer needed for investigations in progress, shall be deposited in the National Museum.[17]

These “treasures” were to be preserved in perpetuity and the collections maintained properly in order “to render them of the highest service to research and education.”[18] Thus the Smithsonian became known as both the “nation’s attic” and as a significant source of technical expertise in a wide range of fields.

During the time the museum building was under construction, Goode was sent to Berlin to represent the United States at the Berlin Fisheries Exhibition of 1880. While in Europe, Goode investigated the museums of Germany as well as those of other countries and returned to the United States with information about the most current methods of exhibition installation, labeling, and storage.[19]

It is significant that Goode emphasized European models, for from the perspective of the Smithsonian, as represented by Goode, there had been no museums in the colonial period and there was really no museum movement in America.[20] In fact, however, as early as 1740 the Library Company of Philadelphia had begun to collect objects. Yet Goode identified Charles Wilson Peale’s museum, which opened in Philadelphia in 1785, as being the first American public museum. Goode was not familiar with primary sources on early museum efforts, and he criticized those early museums en bloc as being merely “cabinets of curiosities.” In Goode’s estimation, serious museum work did not begin until the Civil War era. This led him to write:

The Museum-idea is much broader than it was fifty or even twenty-five years ago. The museum of today is no longer a chance assemblage of curiosities, but rather a series of objects selected with reference to their value to investigators, or their possibilities for public enlightenment. The museum of the future may be made one of the chief agencies of higher civilization.[21]

In his first official report as assistant director, which coincided with the 1881 opening of the Arts and Industries Building to house the museum, Goode outlined a new kind of National Museum. According to Goode, the three aspects of the museum were: “Museums for Record, Research and for Education. These three, cooperative and mutually helpful as they are, are essential to the development of any comprehensive and philosophically organized Museum.”[22]

He articulated his new theory in the context of the evolution of the National Museum since the inception of the Smithsonian in 1847. He divided the history of the museum into three periods:

1847–1857 Smithsonian Secretary Joseph Henry and Scientific Research ... during which time specimens were collected purely and solely to serve as materials for research, no special efforts being made to exhibit them to the public except as a foundation for scientific description and theory.

1857–1876 Museum of Record and Research... from 1857 when the Institution assumed the custody of the “National Cabinet of Curiosities,” (and the Paten! Office Collection) to 1876. During this period the Museum became a place of deposit for scientific material, which had already been studied, this material, so far as convenient, being exhibited to the public, and so far as practicable, made to serve an educational purpose.

Since 1876 Growth of Idea of Popular Education ... in which interval the Museum has entered upon a career of active work, in gathering collections and exhibiting them on account of their educational value.[23]

The two driving forces of Goode’s philosophy were a firm belief in the rightness of scientific method and the sense that the museum’s mission was to serve as a vehicle for the enlightenment and education of the masses. The concern was to find ways to use the collections to “influence, inspire, refine, awe and instruct their visitors.”[24]

A treatise on this philosophy was delivered by Goode in a lecture entitled “The Museums of the Future” at the Brooklyn Institute on 28 February 1889. Goode argued for the importance of the study of objects for learning:

In this busy, critical, and skeptical age, each man is seeking to know all things, and life is too short for many words. The eye is used more and more, the ear less and less, and in the use of the eye, descriptive writing is set aside for pictures, and pictures in their turn are replaced by actual objects. In the school-room the diagram, the blackboard and the object-lesson, unknown thirty years ago, are universally employed. ... The local fair of old has grown into the great exposition, often international and always under some governmental patronage, and thousands of such have taken place within forty years, from Japan to Tasmania, and from Norway to Brazil.

Goode further expressed the educational role of museums:

The museum of the future must stand side by side with the library and the laboratory, as a part of the teaching equipment of the college and university, and in the great cities co-operate with the public library as one of the principal agencies for the enlightenment of the people.[25]

The people’s museum should be much more than a house full of specimens in glass cases, it should be a house full of ideas, arranged with the strictest attention to system.

I once tried to express this thought by saying “An efficient educational museum may be described as a collection of instructive labels, each illustrated by a well-selected specimen.”

The museum, let me add, should be more than a collection of specimens well arranged and well labeled. Like the library, it should be under the constant supervision of one or more men well informed, scholarly and withal practical, and fitted by tastes and Iraining to aid in the educational work.[26]

In his report on the museums of the future, Goode also set out an organizational plan based on a philosophical system of classification that encompassed as broad a range of topics as could be compiled at that point in time. The United States National Museum, in Goode’s view, was to be a museum of cultural history as well as natural history and should include topics in history, anthropology, and art as well as geology, botany, and zoology.[27]

Goode was also very aware of the influence of cultural politics in the shaping of cultural models. Another of his addresses, “Origin of the National Scientific and Educational Institutions of the United States,” presented at a meeting of the American Historical Association, discussed the political dimensions of developing these organizations as well as their formal origins. He acknowledged the element of political savvy on the part of those promoting particular types of organizations that would make it possible for them to achieve their cultural goals. He also emphasized that government sponsorship was more effective than informal advocacy by voluntary associations or individual citizens. Goode recognized that people were looking to the government—and in this instance to the United States National Museum, as the government’s representative—for leadership.

In 1885 Goode assumed the position of director of the museum. Sadly, this brilliant, multitalented man was to die at age 45 in 1896. Nonetheless, his innovative methods had left their mark. As reported in the 50th-anniversary volume of the Smithsonian, his goal of educating the populace at large through the cultural model he had conceived had become the official mission of the museum:

By the arrangement of its collections, by its labels, its hand-books and other publications, and its lectures, [its goal is] to impart instruction of a definite character and in definite lines. It assembles great collections of natural objects and treasures of art not merely to satisfy idle curiosity, but to diffuse knowledge among men. Thus it allies itself to the university and the library and must be counted among the chief agencies for the spread of culture.[28]

Otis T. Mason: Introducing Cultural History to the USNM

The first official curator of anthropology at the United States National Museum was Otis T. Mason (1838–1908), who came to Washington in 1856 to study at Columbian (now George Washington) University.[29] At the university, under the tutelage of its president, the Reverend George W. Samson, Mason concentrated his studies on the cultural history of the peoples of the eastern Mediterranean. A gifted teacher, Mason stayed on at Columbian as the principal of the preparatory department of the college, a position he held for 23 years, during which time he also earned a Ph.D. The enthusiasm Mason was to express for Cyrus Adler’s offer to form a collection of casts of Near Eastern antiquities for the National Museum was prompted by his professional interest in broadening the scope of the museum’s holdings in cultural history and his involvement in the study of Oriental antiquities when he was a university student.

Interestingly enough, Mason’s own association with the Smithsonian also began with a chance encounter. As Mason would recount, one day in the early 1870s he arrived at the museum to examine some Semitic inscriptions. Mason was warmly welcomed by Spencer F. Baird, who indicated that these items had “waited for him” for six months. They were joined by Secretary Henry, and Mason proceeded to interpret the inscriptions as best he could. When he was done and about to leave, Baird made what was to Mason a rather astonishing recommendation:

Now I want you to give all this up. If you devote your life to such a subject as this, you will have to take the leavings of European workers. It will not be possible for you here in America to obtain the material for important researches; but—I give you the two Americas!

Mason reported that he was “bom again that day” and described his critical meeting with Baird as having “opened the Western Hemisphere to my mind and changed the current of my life.”[30]

In 1872 Mason joined the corps of “resident collaborators,” his term for museum volunteers. For 12 years he spent every spare moment studying the ethnology collections at the museum. With Baird as his mentor, Mason became the Smithsonian’s anthropology expert.

The anthropologists at the Smithsonian felt they had to take on the essential task of reclaiming the past as a step in shaping the future. Otis T. Mason explained in 1883 that the anthropologist was involved in “vital affairs” as a participant in the universal quest for the “secrets of man’s origin, progress and destiny.”[31] Their approach was a type of evolutionary anthropology. The organization of exhibits stressed developmental progress, demonstrating a particular aspect of human activity from the most primitive to the most advanced. As described by Goode, “the series should begin with the simplest types and close with the most perfect and elaborate objects of the same class which human effort has produced.”[32]

However, for Mason, and for Goode as well, their scientific investigation was definitely linked to God’s hand in the world. Man, through the unfolding of his own intellectual powers, was slowly but surely “approaching a God-like destiny.”[33] In writing about cultural history, Mason waxed eloquent about progress in the nineteenth century as a “series of ever perfecting thoughts,” which were moving closer to a condition approaching “most nearly to the mind and life of the Creator.”[34]

Thus, Darwinism may have had an impact on the study of the natural sciences at the Smithsonian, and even on taxonomy in natural history, but not on their religious sensibilities. As Mason described his concept of the unfolding of culture, the process was not chaotic at all but rather slowly worked out by people with the guidance of “some pilot with his hand upon the helm in the industrial history of the globe... steering toward a light with which he was perfectly familiar.”[35] Though the “age of science” was a time of religious questioning, the early anthropologists at the Smithsonian were not scientific explorers; rather, they were classifiers. “By displaying order in the tangible works of man through all ages and places, they would confirm cosmic purpose—[They] sought to contain the world within walls and categories; they sought old verities, not new truths.”[36]

FIGURE 7.—Otis T. Mason. (Smithsonian Institution Archives)

Mason focused his efforts on preparing a catalog of the collections. His scheme for museum classification was derived from the system of Gustav Klemm at the Museum of Ethnology in Leipzig. Introducing this methodology marked the United States National Museum’s formal introduction to the field of cultural history.[37] Later in life, Mason would point to the importance of using “acceptable terminology” in an attempt to insure scientific respectability for the ethnologists.[38]

Ultimately, in organizing the Bureau of Ethnology and structuring its studies on Native Americans, Mason and Goode decided to combine two systems of classification in order to address the issues of both classification by evolutionary development and comparative analysis. Objects were classified by developmental association and function alike. At Baird’s request, Mason developed an exhibition of the collections when the new museum building opened in 1881. Goode determined that the exhibit cases should be mounted on casters, so that the actual display could be maneuvered about as needed in order to focus on one or the other system.[39]

In 1884 Mason assumed the position of curator of the Division of Ethnology. Though he had been working at the museum as a volunteer for over a decade, it was not until he became curator that he had an overview of the general status of the heterogeneous collections that composed the division. He set out to organize the disparate materials. Drawing upon his own experience, he enlisted the aid of volunteers. Among those who joined the staff of the museum as honorary curators were collectors and others who were assigned or invited to organize collections about which they had a particular knowledge. One of those specialists was Cyrus Adler.

In 1889 Mason traveled to Europe for three months. He visited museums in Germany, France, Denmark, and Holland to study anthropology collections and museum methods. He also attended the International Congress of Anthropology and Prehistoric Archaeology and went to the 1889 Exposition Universelle in Paris. For Mason, the experience was a revelation. He was profoundly impressed by developments in European museums. As he wrote to his wife: “How my heart rejoices when I see the men whose thoughts have moved the world. I ought to have taken this trip thirty years ago. My intellectual life has been in a bag.”[40] Mason returned to his work at the Smithsonian with renewed vigor and sought to implement aspects of the European models in his future work.

He was immensely influenced by the “models of habitation” presented at the Paris Exposition. The popular success of this anthropological presentation had a lasting effect on Mason’s thought. One of the major changes in his approach was replacing cabinets of comparative material with ethnic “life-groups.”[41] Mason’s first major task when he returned was the planning for the World’s Columbian Exhibition, which would consume his time for the next three years.

It is noteworthy that his return coincided with Cyrus Adler’s interest in developing a department focusing on comparative religion. Mason’s experience visiting museums with similar collections in Europe helped make him a supporter of Adler’s efforts. Moreover, the dual methodology decided upon by Goode and Mason with regard to the material in the BAE laid the groundwork for the department that would eventually be organized by Cyrus Adler. A comparative system was worked out, so that items representing similar aspects of ceremony from different religions were to be collected and were to be displayed in that fashion. However, there was a very clear understanding that this collection was only about “historic” religions and did not include “prehistoric cults” or the ceremonial objects of “semicivilized or barbarous tribes.” In later publications describing the collection, Adler, stressing his own cultural politics, explained that within the “historic” religions, it was determined that the three religions to be given attention were Judaism, Christianity, and Mohammedanism, “in order of their respective establishments.”[42] He explained the decision to focus on “nations inhabiting the Mediterranean basin” by saying it was there that the “seat of civilization of the modem western world” was found [43]

Samuel Pierpont Langley: Steward for the New Era

Samuel Pierpont Langley (1834–1906) was an astronomer, physicist, and aviation pioneer who became secretary of the Smithsonian in 1887.[44] He was a descendant of a family that had come to Massachusetts in the early part of the seventeenth century. Langley did not attend college but trained as a civil engineer, and for some years he worked in Chicago and St. Louis. In 1864 he embarked with his brother on a European tour for more than a year. When he returned to Boston, he briefly worked as an assistant to Joseph Winlock at the Harvard College Observatory. In 1866 Langley took a position as assistant professor of mathematics at the U.S. Naval Academy at Annapolis, but his primary duty was reorganizing the observatory. The following year Langley joined the faculty of the Western University of Pennsylvania in Pittsburgh. During his 20-year tenure there, he served as professor of astronomy and physics and was director of the Allegheny Observatory. Langley was recruited by Spencer Baird to join the Smithsonian staff as assistant secretary in charge of the library and exchanges. In offering the position, Baird had apparently established the tacit understanding that Langley would become his successor.[45] Upon Baird’s death, in 1887, Langley was designated secretary.

Langley was interested in continuing his own scientific work, and this was made possible by the establishment of the Astrophysical Observatory under the direction of the Smithsonian. Langley was very much involved in the administrative work of the Institution, but he was a very reticent public speaker and liked to avoid involvement with any committees. Moreover, for several years, following the deaths of George Brown Goode and Winlock Crawford Winlock (Joseph Winlock’s son and an astronomer who was one of Langley’s principal assistants at the Astrophysical Observatory), Langley was depressed and unable to do much research. He did resume his astrophysical work in 1898 and continued efforts to build a flying machine large enough for a pilot. The failure of his experimental prototype in 1903 was another serious setback for him, though he persisted in believing that the future of aerial navigation lay in the airplane.

FIGURE 8.—Samuel P. Langley. (Smithsonian Institution Archives)

Cyrus Adler was appointed librarian of the Smithsonian by Langley in 1892. Adler became Langley’s confidant, and the secretary depended upon him, even inviting Adler to accompany him on his daily drives. Adler drafted many of the secretary’s letters and represented him in dealings with many other members of the museum staff.[46] Adler was even asked to be Langley’s spokesman at times, making appearances before the congressional committee in charge of appropriations for the museum.[47]

FIGURE 9.—Langley and the aerodrome experiment. (Smithsonian Institution Archives)

Because of his close personal relationship with Langley, Cyrus Adler became involved with many projects at the museum that were well beyond the scope of his official position as librarian and curator. These activities included, for example, corresponding with Frederick Law Olmsted about designing the layout of the National Zoological Garden in 1890; arranging for Alexander Graham Bell to lecture at the museum in 1903; suggesting possible images for a medal in honor of the 1906 Benjamin Franklin Celebration; chairing the committee to reorganize the Bureau of American Ethnology in 1903; creating an official seal for the Smithsonian Institution; and representing Langley at a meeting at the White House with President Theodore Roosevelt about accepting the gift of the Freer Collection for the nation in 1905.[48]

Beginning in 1902 Adler began dividing his time between the Smithsonian and the Jewish Theological Seminary in New York. As part of the plan to reorganize the seminary, Adler agreed that he would become president of the board of trustees, in effect the executive administrator, if he could arrange to maintain his “scientific connection with the National Museum.”[49] Secretary Langley not only agreed to the plan but also still had so much confidence in Adler that he would later appoint him to the position of assistant secretary.[50] When Langley died, in 1906, it was clear to Adler that under the new secretary, Charles D. Walcott, he would not continue to play a substantial role in museum affairs.[51] Adler took the next possible opportunity to move on, and in 1908 he became the founding president of Dropsie College for Hebrew and Cognate Learning in Philadelphia.

Adler was, of course, very cordial in his leave-taking, which kept the door open for him to be a voice of authority in matters pertaining to the Judaica collection. In his letter of resignation Adler wrote:

It is hard for me to break off a connection which in one way or another has existed for more than twenty years: and I wish to assure you and my friends here of my deep appreciation of the kindness and consideration which have been accorded me, beginning as I did in a very minor capacity and coming to hold an office for which I have the highest respect and which I believe to be far beyond my deserts.[52]

Museum officials would continue to seek Adler’s advice on issues related to the Judaica collection, but nothing else, until the late 1920s.

3. Cyrus Adler, Activist Scholar

Cyrus Adler was born in Van Buren, Arkansas, in 1863. His experience in the South was short-lived, however; his father, Samuel Adler, passed away in 1867, and his mother, Sarah Sulzberger Adler, relocated with her three young children to Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, to live with her brother, David Sulzberger.[1] Thus the young Adler was brought into the sphere of influence of the very active German Jewish elite. Adler’s family were members of the venerable Mikveh Israel Congregation, one of the oldest in the United States. Mikveh Israel, established as a Sephardic synagogue by early Jewish immigrants to America, represented a link to the most cultivated and aristocratic stratum of American Jews,[2] The Reverend Sabato Morais, rabbi of Mikveh Israel, was to be a major influence in Cyrus Adler’s life, and he played a decisive role in shaping Adler’s lifelong traditionally observant practice of Judaism.[3]

Adler attended elementary school at the Hebrew Education Society,[4] where the curriculum included both secular and religious studies; German was taught as well as English and Hebrew. Adler, along with a few other boys, received additional special instruction from Sabato Morais and two other prominent Philadelphia rabbis, Samuel Hirsch and Marcus Jastrow.[5] Each of them was an intellectual leader in the Jewish community, but they were very different in their approaches to Judaism and Wissenschaft des Judentums. Adler began public high school at the age of 11 and then attended the University of Pennsylvania. He was only 16 when he completed his studies at the university.

The First American Ph.D. in Semitics

It was anticipated that Adler would pursue a career as a lawyer, as had his uncle David and his older cousin, the eminent judge Mayer Sulzberger.[6] It was quite unexpected that he would pursue an academic career. Adler was 20 when he learned that the Johns Hopkins University was establishing a graduate department in Semitic studies. In September 1883 Adler became the first person to enroll in the new program. Semitic languages were the primary focus of the curriculum, developed under Professor Paul Haupt, who had come to Johns Hopkins to head the department, having just completed his own training in Gottingen. Adler, who was already proficient in Hebrew, now studied Arabic, Syriac, Ethiopic, and Assyrian, and he chose Assyriology as his specialty. Years later, at the celebration of the 25th anniversary of the seminary, he would nostalgically describe those heady days when he and the small group of his fellow students “sat day after day, drinking in the new knowledge with feverish haste and anxiety, studying, memorizing, copying texts, dreaming, almost, the Semitic languages.”[7]

In February 1887 he completed his doctoral studies and was awarded the first Ph.D. in Semitics from an American university. After graduating, he received an appointment as an instructor in Semitics at Johns Hopkins, a position he held until 1892, when he became librarian of the Smithsonian Institution. It has been suggested that Adler pursued the opportunities at the Smithsonian because he was unable to find a secure academic post. Indeed, his efforts to obtain faculty appointments at the University of Pennsylvania and the University of Chicago failed, and Johns Hopkins did not have funding to give him a permanent position.[8] Considering the encouragement he received from Samuel P. Langley and George Brown Goode to maintain relationships with academia and specifically with Johns Hopkins, it seems likely that Adler felt that he would be able to continue to bridge both worlds. In fact, the prestige of the Smithsonian afforded Adler the opportunity to pursue many important contacts both as a Semitics scholar and as an activist on behalf of Jewish issues.[9] It should be emphasized that Adler’s position was significantly enhanced by his relationship with Langley. Essentially serving as Langley’s chief of staff and confidant as well as his public representative, Adler had a role quite distinct from that of the typical Smithsonian curator. Most curators did not, for example, attend meetings at the White House, as Adler did on Langley’s behalf. Although possibly apocryphal, the story has been recounted that once in 1904 when it was necessary for Adler to confer with President Theodore Roosevelt on a problem affecting the Jewish community, Adler informed the President’s secretary that he could not meet with Roosevelt on the Jewish Sabbath. Shortly thereafter the President himself telephoned to apologize and to reschedule the appointment.[10]

Communal Activist

Cyrus Adler came of age in a period of many changes for Jews worldwide. Though Jews in western Europe had benefited greatly from the political emancipation that began in the eighteenth century, a climate of discrimination still prevailed and was, in fact, worsening. In Germany, shortly after receiving full civil emancipation in 1870, the Jews were confronted with an abrupt wave of anti-Jewish hostility.[11] Pogroms in Russia beginning in 1881 marked a turning point in the way Jews in eastern Europe saw their future.[12] In the 1880s 200,000 Jews from eastern Europe came to the United States, doubling the Jewish population there. In the 1890s the Jewish population would double once again. All told, over two million Jews emigrated from eastern Europe to the United States before immigration was radically curtailed in the 1920s.

Even the United States, though a haven for Jews fleeing persecution and seeking economic opportunity, was not free of prejudice. Here too anti-Semitic sentiment could be found, depicting the degenerate, disloyal Jew and the corruptive forces of Jewish money and power as a dangerous threat to Christian civilization.[13] Although not on a par with the violence in eastern Europe and not organized in the form of political parties, there was a “pervasive social anti-Semitism”[14] that was part of a growing sense that the new Jewish, Catholic, and Orthodox immigrants from southern and eastern Europe, flocking to urban centers, would subvert the Protestant character of American life. Spurred also by concern about growing secularization and the social and economic displacements newly wrought by the industrialization of what had been a primarily agrarian and mercantile America, militant Protestants took a number of measures in an attempt to maintain the status quo.[15] These efforts included seeking legislation to achieve what they believed was the safeguarding of Christian morality, but which would have, in fact, compromised civil rights.[16]

What resulted from the influx of new immigrants was an incredible period of activity and the formation of a myriad of organizations and institutions to meet the needs (cultural, economic, and political) of the growing American Jewish community. A not insignificant aspect of the frenzy of social action was the pressure urgently felt by Jews already established in the United States, in response to the forces of anti-Semitism, to Americanize the new immigrants and to demonstrate the loyalty of all Jews to the United States.[17] Among the highly motivated and energized individuals who were responsible for many of these changes was Cyrus Adler, who was involved in the establishment of numerous organizations and institutions.

FIGURE 10.—“Was Costen”: Anti-Semitic stereotypes of Jews often focused on their avarice and dishonesty in business. Warshaw Collection of Business Americana, NMAH Archives Center. (Negative number 92–13050)

In several respects Adler was not the equal of the men in the leadership group. They tended to be older, wealthier, and more powerful.[18] But Adler was a man sure of his principles. He, like many others, asserted that the ignorance and bigotry that linked all Jew-haters could be combated by the forces of education, enlightenment, and democracy.[19] His special position was that he was both a scholar and an activist. In the spirit of Wissenschaft des Judentums, Adler stalwartly adhered to the position that the “authentic” study of Judaism according to the principles of modem scholarship would counteract prejudice against Jews. The leadership could depend on him as an academic resource and on his willingness to take action and implement the programs they wanted to initiate. In return, they were supportive of the cultural activities he promoted.[20]

During the two decades Adler served in a professional capacity at the Smithsonian, he also played a major role in a number of American Jewish institutions.[21] His cultural involvements included the formation of the Jewish Publication Society, 1888; the establishment of the American Jewish Historical Society, 1892; serving as editor of the first seven volumes of the American Jewish Yearbook, 1899–1905; and serving as a departmental editor of the Jewish Encyclopedia, 1901–1906. When Adler took over the presidency of the board of trustees of the newly reorganized Jewish Theological Seminary (JTS), he began dividing his time between the JTS and the Smithsonian, spending half the week in New York and half in Washington.[22]

Adler’s activities were not limited to the cultural sphere. In general, the power elite of American Jewry had multiple agendas; Adler, for example, was also a founder of the American Jewish Committee, which would become the major Jewish defense organization in the United States. In fact, it was Adler who, in a letter published in American Hebrew in January 1906, first publicly introduced the idea of creating one representative, authoritative body to speak for American Jewry on national and international affairs.[23]

Curator as Activist

What is particularly remarkable about Adler’s experience at the Smithsonian is that he was single-handedly responsible for creating a Jewish presence at the United States National Museum. There were no advisory boards or executive committees at that time; the theory and practice were essentially his alone, though he acted in concert with the Smithsonian professional staff.[24] Adler, as a scholar following a scientific approach, was able to express his cultural politics through the cultural model he developed at the Smithsonian, as reflected in the objects he acquired for the collection and the exhibitions he organized. In the spirit of the Wissenschaft des Judentums movement, Adler proceeded as if it were self-evident that the study of Jews and Judaism was no different from any other academic subject; he also assumed that through such an approach negative stereotypes would be dispelled. He would later describe his accomplishments as appropriately representing Jewish ceremonial and art objects “in a beautiful and dignified” way in the nation’s capital, the pinnacle of secular American society.[25]

4. Accreditation of Semitic Study

Adler’s own academic field of Semitics provides a clear example of the phenomenon of cultural politics meshing with cultural model. Though the study of Semitics was certainly not equivalent to the study of Judaism, Adler himself did link the study of Semitics, and specifically the study of the Bible, to the scientific study of Judaism.[1] His position, in terms of cultural politics, was that the scientific study of Judaism would “discredit higher critics whose findings disparaged the contributions of pre-Christian Israel to Western culture.”[2] The cultural model he constructed emphasized the direct links between the biblical period and contemporary Jewish life. This sort of presentation, Adler felt, would help to counteract stereotypes of Jews.

For this reason, Cyrus Adler’s Ph.D. in Semitics not only was a major source of pride for him personally but also empowered him to promote the importance of this field professionally. The Johns Hopkins University, after all, was a secular institution of higher learning and not a rabbinic school. Earlier in the nineteenth century, the study of religion had been the province of theological seminaries and divinity schools, though of course some of these were aligned with major institutions of higher education. Because many faculty members of these schools had studied in Germany, they were very much influenced by German biblical scholarship.[3] There were intense differences among the theologians as to the validity of the new scientific methods of biblical criticism, but ultimately what united these faculty members, themselves all Christians, was their emphasis on Christian piety.[4] Moreover, though Hebrew, the language of the Bible, had been taught at many American colleges since their inception, it was at Johns Hopkins that Hebrew, like the other Semitic subjects, was first taught on a “comprehensive, scientific basis.”[5]

Political and social as well as academic factors influenced the establishment of departments of Semitics in American universities in the late nineteenth century, for the evolution of the study of Semitics also meant the entry of Jewish learning into the academic world. At Hopkins, the position accorded to Semitics was on a par, in terms of scholarship, with all other subjects. Adler recognized that the person responsible for this status was Daniel C. Gilman, the first president of Johns Hopkins, who organized the university at a time when “the natural and physical sciences were threatening to obliterate the ancient learning.”[6]

For Gilman, Semitics was not just a subject that should be of interest to the “cultivated man”; he also appreciated Semitic “science.” Apparently Gilman, who had previously served as president of the University of California, advocated establishing a chair for Hebrew and other Semitic languages as early as 1872. Gilman often expressed the opinion that Semitic science was advancing with the exciting discoveries of cuneiform tablets and with progress in the study of Semitic languages, especially Assyrian.

Adler also paid tribute to Paul Haupt, the director of the seminary and his teacher. Haupt was an Assyriologist and was considered to be the best in his field. The young scholar was just 25 when he arrived in America in 1883 to assume a professorship at Johns Hopkins. According to Adler, Haupt’s talent was not limited to his achievements in Assyriology:

Comparative Semitic grammar and phonetics seemed for the first time to have arrested the attention of a man versed in classical and modern languages, and determined to form a new science upon the traditions of his predecessors coupled with the originality and daring of genius.[7]

Furthermore, in citing Haupt’s accomplishments Adler highlighted his critical text of the Hebrew Bible, his papers “illuminating” the Scriptures, and his writings on Assyriology and comparative religion. Having Haupt as his mentor was more than a source of academic distinction for Adler: Haupt brought with him the aura of the esteemed German university life,[8] but here in America, as Adler viewed it, there was no difference between the Jewish student and his classmates, and the scientific approach would eliminate the old stereotypes.[9] In Adler’s opinion, Gilman’s vision was the most enlightened pedagogical approach and Haupt’s instruction the most objective.

Semitics Curriculum: Philology as Politics

Besides Johns Hopkins and the University of California, the field of Semitics became well developed at four other universities: Harvard, Columbia, the University of Pennsylvania, and the University of Chicago. Some courses in the subject were offered at about ten other universities and several theological schools as well.[10] In the late nineteenth century, the curriculum in Semitics focused on philology. This emphasis proved to be an excellent compromise for both the liberal Protestants who administered the universities and the local Jewish communities whose support they hoped to attract.[11] By including Semitics, the universities could demonstrate that they were no longer tied to a specific denomination and could therefore attract Jewish sponsors. This representation in the world of higher education conferred on Judaism a recognition and legitimacy that the Jewish community deeply prized. For Doth liberal Jews and liberal Protestants, the specific concentration on philology meant the avoidance of their common “intellectual enemies”[12]—the extreme forms of higher biblical criticism, on the one hand, and the fervent fundamentalism found among many Bible students, on the other.

Semitics at Harvard

The political factor in Semitic studies was perhaps most pronounced at Harvard University, where Jacob Schiff became the financial patron of the Semitic Languages and History Department for two decades, beginning in 1888.[13] Schiff’s subvention supported the faculty salaries, an expedition to Palestine, and the establishment of the Semitic Museum in 1903. Though Schiff’s association with the university was nurtured by Harvard’s president, Charles William Eliot, he did not require much encouragement. Schiff, who was born in Frankfurt am Main in 1847, immigrated to the United States as a young man and became a powerful force in the realm of international finance. His involvement in philanthropy was legendary.[14] Yet Harvard could bestow upon him something that all of his great wealth could not: legitimacy in the highest sphere of American life, at the most prestigious university in America.

In 1891, when the first collection Schiff purchased for Harvard was installed at the Peabody Museum, he was very clear about his motive for wanting to establish a Semitic museum. He said that a primary purpose of the museum must be to repudiate and combat “anti-Semitism in Europe [and] social prejudice and ostracism in free America” by creating opportunities “for a more thorough study and a better knowledge of Semitic history and civilization, so that the world shall better understand and acknowledge the debt it owes to the Semitic people.”[15]

Moreover, at the official opening of the Semitic Museum at Harvard in 1903, Schiff began his remarks with a quote from Goethe and a tribute, albeit oblique, to the Jewish people. Though he took care to note that other peoples had played roles in the development of Semitic civilization, Schiff’s point was that the “Hebrew” was the “largest contributor:”

“Wohl dem, der seiner Ahnen gem gedenkt. Happy he who in gladness remembers those he sprang from.” With a deep attachment to my race, proud of its past achievements, sensible of its continuing responsibilities, pondering over its development, the question has al times presented itself to me, Where did the history of my people begin? ... Unrolled before our vista, since the Patriarch’s Jays lie centuries of Semitic history and development. ... Indeed, the history and activities of almost all of the various branches of what is generally known as the Semitic race have furnished so tempting a field for study and research that scholar and layman alike have for decades been vying with each other for the prized treasures brought forth from below and found above the surface in the countries in which have been made the history and displayed the activities of the Semitic peoples.[16]

Here is an example of cultural politics at work: in the context of a positive statement about Jews’ contribution to cultural history, Schiff quoted from a poet and philosopher who embodied German culture, which typically contained elements of anti-Semitism.

Cyrus Adler also spoke at the inauguration of the Semitic Museum at Harvard, and he too stressed the importance of Semitic studies:

It is coming to be more and more recognized that in everything which makes for the higher life the modern man derives directly from a few groups of peoples that lived about the Mediterranean, and that a knowledge of their civilization is essential to an understanding of the history of human thought.[17]

By 1903 Adler had been involved in museum work for 15 years, and he was committed to increasing the contribution of museums to popular education. So it was fitting that in his remarks at the Semitic Museum he stressed that it was the museum’s mandate to convey the relevance of the exhibit to the visitor: “It is the business of museum officials to make mummies live.”

Schiff and Adler’s dream, however, was to be dispelled once Abbott Lawrence Lowell assumed the presidency of Harvard in 1909. Lowell was antagonistic to the Semitic Languages and History Department, and it became increasingly more marginal within the university. Schiff’s contributions stopped, and the Semitic Museum fell into a lengthy period of dormancy.[18] The optimistic view that knowledge would counter anti-Semitism, a view that Schiff and Adler both held, was blatantly counteracted by the actions of Lowell, who both feared Jews and was hostile to them.[19]

Semitics: The University and the Museum

For Adler, the success of Semitic studies at the university level was also manifest in the establishment of two new departments at the United States National Museum, the Department of Historic Archaeology and the Department of Historic Religions. This achievement, he felt, was due “entirely to the influence of members of the Semitic Seminary of this [Johns Hopkins] University.” What this meant in terms of power and prestige was quite momentous: “The greater representation of the government and of American institutions generally, at Oriental and allied congresses abroad, had its chief impulse here.”[20] Through these departments, Adler achieved his goal of creating a cultural model at the Smithsonian that reflected his cultural politics.

The fate of these departments was, however, also tied to political and social realities. Adler created and developed these departments while he served under the patronage of Secretary Langley; during this time he increasingly gained greater prominence in the Smithsonian Institution. Following Langley’s death, Adler lost his stature, though he certainly could have retained his post as assistant secretary. When Adler left the museum, it was essentially the end of an era for the disciplines he had established. The growth thenceforth was to be in the Bureau of American Ethnology. By the late 1920s, except for the presence of Judaica in the exhibition hall as an ongoing accommodation to Bible students, the fields of biblical archaeology and comparative religion were ignored, and no curator took an interest in their development. The Department of Historic Archaeology and the Department of Historic Religions simply fell into oblivion because there was no advocate for their study or development.

The Peabody Model

Although Adler’s connection with both the Johns Hopkins University and the United States National Museum allowed him to promote a model of Semitic studies that drew on both resources, his was not the only museum model to be linked to academics. Interestingly enough, while Adler was encouraging Jacob Schiff to support a Semitics museum at Harvard, another very different type of collection on religion was being developed by Francis Greenwood Peabody (1847–1936), a professor at the Harvard Divinity School.[21]

Peabody’s model would have corresponded well with Goode’s philosophy and his commitment to moral education in museums. Peabody was the theologian par excellence of the Social Gospel, the late-nineteenth-century social reform movement that was the product of social action theology. The movement’s adherents advocated the application of the message of Christian salvation to secular social improvement.[22] Its scientific character was manifest in a preoccupation with the “social experiment” nature of the projects undertaken by the practitioners of Social Gospel at places such as Hull House in Chicago. Peabody’s advocacy led to the inclusion of a course in social reform at the Harvard Divinity School in 1883, the founding of a social ethics department at Harvard in 1906, and beginning in 1903 the formation of a museum collection as well. In a letter dated 29 October 1904, Peabody wrote to Governor Bates of Massachusetts, “I am charged with establishing here in Emerson Hall, now under construction, a ‘Social Museum,’ to represent graphically the movement of philanthropic, social and industrial progress.”[23] Thus for a time Harvard simultaneously reaped the benefits of both Adler’s cultural model and Peabody’s. Adler, at the Smithsonian, was in the right place at the right time to actuate his own agenda.[24]

5. Oriental Antiquities and Jewish Ceremonial Objects

Cyrus Adler’s offer to help the United States National Museum form a collection of casts of Near Eastern antiquities was followed by a proposal sent on 28 March 1887 by Paul Haupt, director of the Semitics Seminary at the Johns Hopkins University, to Spencer F. Baird, the secretary of the Smithsonian. It is noteworthy that Adler, having volunteered his services, deferred to Haupt, his mentor, for the formalities.[1] Haupt’s letter, which is likely to have been drafted by Adler, recommended that the museum add a section of Oriental archaeology to its “numerous departments of study and research” and offered the expertise of the Semitics faculty at Johns Hopkins.[2] The Haupt letter stressed both the scientific and educational value of such a collection and the primary importance of these antiquities for the study of the Bible. These two objectives were certainly in consonance with those of the National Museum. Otis T. Mason particularly welcomed the proposed new section, which he viewed as promising “an entirely new and extremely valuable set of collaborators.”[3]

Though the plan was accepted in principle, the official organization of the Section of Oriental Antiquities was delayed nearly a year, until 2 February 1888, because of the illness and then the death of Baird. In the interim some work did proceed, and an official call for objects was issued at the October 1887 meeting of the American Oriental Society. The announcement indicated that the National Museum had undertaken the formation of the collection of casts in association with Johns Hopkins and that the museum was ready to make facsimiles.[4] The appointments to the new section were made by the new Smithsonian secretary, Samuel P. Langley. Paul Haupt became honorary curator of the Section of Oriental Antiquities and Cyrus Adler the assistant honorary curator.

Biblical Archaeology Exhibition at the Centennial Exposition of the Ohio Valley

The first exhibition to be developed by the Section of Oriental Antiquities was an installation of biblical archaeology at the Centennial Exposition of the Ohio Valley, held in Cincinnati in 1888.[5] The exposition was mounted as a commemoration of the organization of the Northwest Territory in 1787. The objective of the exposition, an indicator of the bold and positive outlook of the times, was

to present a panorama of the Nation’s resources and present state of progressive development by an exhibition of the products of agriculture, of the various industries and fine arts; also the results of the advancement made in the sciences; the whole illustrating the opportunities secured to and the possibilities which wait upon the citizens of this Republic.[6]

The exhibition on biblical archaeology, prepared by Cyrus Adler, was a pioneering venture for the Smithsonian. According to their reports, the impetus for the Smithsonian’s decision to mount an exhibition with a biblical theme was the tremendous Protestant religious revival in the United States. The exhibition was viewed as an opportunity to achieve the museum’s mission of popular education, interpreting the research of the museum scientists to the public. As George Brown Goode explained in his annual report for 1889:

Owing to The wide-spread interest in biblical studies. Dr. Cyrus Adler, Assistant Curator of the Section of Oriental Antiquities, was called upon to prepare an exhibit which should enable Bible students (of whom it is estimated that there are already more than four millions in the Sunday-schools of the United States) to see something of the results of the work of the numerous specialists who have devoted their time and energies to the people of Bible lands, and to become familiar with some of the interesting objects which have been collected and studied, with a view to a better understanding of the language, history, art, social life, and religion of these people.[7]

It is of interest that the four million figure came from Adler’s report on the exhibition. In the draft of the report there is a question mark next to the number; both the source of the number and the identity of the person who queried it are unknown. Whatever the origin, the “fact” of this large number of people interested in Bible studies became the rationale for ongoing development of the section and more exhibitions on biblical archaeology.[8] In Adler’s report on the planning of the exhibition, he took care to stress its scientific aspects, distancing the work of the museum curator from that of the theologian:

This study is not a part of dogmatic theology; its results can command the same acceptance accorded to a new fact reported from a physical laboratory; its problems should be faced in the same spirit of fearless investigation into the truth as obtains in other departments of scientific research.[9]

Despite his disclaimer, it should be noted that Adler was himself very much involved in the efforts to produce an English translation of the Bible under Jewish auspices. Isaac Leeser was the first American Jew to publish an English Bible translation.[10] But Leeser’s Bible (as the translation was known), which appeared in 1854, was considered to be problematic. In fact, it was quite polemical in its approach, refuting Christian interpretations and justifying the Jewish understanding of Scripture. Isaac Mayer Wise spearheaded an effort to undertake a new Bible translation, especially when the new Protestant English-language revised edition appeared in 1885;[11] however, the project was never realized. In 1892 the Jewish Publication Society determined that a new Bible translation was vital, and when a special subcommittee was established for the purpose in 1893, Cyrus Adler became its secretary and played a highly significant role in developing the guidelines for its development. Though the translation was not completed until 1917, this project continued to preoccupy Adler throughout his tenure at the Smithsonian.[12]

Contemporary Practice as Living Archaeology

Adler was interested in providing a historical context for the study of the Bible, so as to gain insight into biblical civilization.[13] A further comment of Adler’s about the state of research of biblical study provides an insight into what was his really rather unscientific link between those who lived in the “Bible lands” in his own time and their ancient Semitic ancestors. The contemporary practices of the area’s inhabitants were treated as “living archaeology,” as if the way of life in those areas had survived without change since antiquity and therefore could be treated as if it were directly linked to ancient times.

Nor are these investigations entirely confined to the ancient world. Owing to the intense conservatism of oriental peoples, a careful study of the modern inhabitants of Western Asia may exhibit in a new aspect the manners and customs of former times. ... Even religious practices have persisted in the East through thousands of years. As there may be some objection to the application of the term archaeology to so broad a field, it might perhaps be better if the more comprehensive term Biblical Science were employed to designate this study.[14]

The concept of this unbroken continuity of practice would subsequently become Adler’s rationale for using Jewish ceremonial objects of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries in an exhibition of biblical archaeology.

Adler was also rather broad-based in his geographic designation:

Nor is the area covered less extensive than the period of time, Roughly speaking, it would require that one point of a compass be placed in Jerusalem, and a radius of a thousand miles be selected, to describe a circle which would include all of The peoples with whom the Israelites came into contact during the national existence.[15]

Redefining the Scope of the Section of Oriental Antiquities

The designation of the section as being concerned with Oriental antiquities became a question of semantics. Otis T. Mason had actually referred to the section as a department of biblical archaeology in his report for 1888, never using the term Oriental. In his annual report for 1889, Adler quotes the American Oriental Society’s and the Royal Asiatic Society’s definition of Oriental, which encompasses a vast area ranging from China to Palestine. In the 1889 report, Adler more narrowly delineates the work of the section as being devoted only to biblical archaeology because of limitations of scope and fiscal resources. The revised mandate of the section was to be the study of “the history, archaeology, languages, arts and religions of the peoples of western Asia and Egypt. Material is chosen which especially illustrates Biblical history and labels are prepared from this point of view.”[16]

Adler in Charge of the Section

At this point, Adler’s museum activities were still ancillary to his teaching responsibilities at Johns Hopkins. Yet during the course of the year, as described in the 1889 annual report, considerable progress was made toward establishing the scientific credentials of the Section of Oriental Antiquities. The authorship of the annual report makes it clear that Adler was responsible for the advances. Because Haupt was the honorary curator, it would have been expected that he would have a larger role in determining the direction of the section. However, not only is the document written in Cyrus Adler’s hand, but it is evident that he was reporting on his own accomplishments; Haupt’s involvement was limited to his European activities (described later in this chapter). Mason’s annual report for 1889 acknowledges the situation, indicating that the section was created in order “to interest a large number of scholars not hitherto specially attached to the institution” and was formed “under the patronage of Dr. Paul Haupt and in charge of Dr. Cyrus Adler.”[17]

Adler’s efforts were focused on “arranging, labeling and putting on exhibition” those “specimens” already acquired. The importance of labeling was particularly stressed by Adler. Although the entire collection was labeled, only about half of the collection of approximately 850 items was actually placed on exhibit, so Adler’s use of the word labeling is actually equivalent to the term cataloging. The labels reflect a scientific approach, with scientific being defined as descriptive and not interpretive. Labels were also prepared for the approximately 150 photographs used as auxiliary materials to establish the context for the objects. Adler remarked that the study of the objects as part of this process was undertaken with a “view to future publication” as well. As described by Adler, the labels included “a statement of the material of the original when known, a history of the original, translation of the inscription, and signification of the representation where it could be determined.”[18]

In summarizing his activities Adler also stressed his professional associations. He worked to increase the collection and to establish a network of correspondents, and in so doing he also welcomed “accredited Orientalists” who visited Washington. Paul Haupt, who spent the summer of 1888 abroad, similarly made contacts for the museum overseas, and he purchased a number of casts from the Royal Museum of Berlin, which included representative examples from the Berlin collection as well as the Museum of Egyptian Antiquities in Turin, the Louvre, the Boulak Museum in Cairo, and the British Museum.

In addition, Adler noted that he authored a report on the “Progress of Oriental Science in America During 1888” and “transacted business” connected to the Eighth International Congress of Orientalists at Stockholm. During the course of that year, Adler also established a working library for the section. The library was given some prominence by the decision of the acting secretary to make the Smithsonian a depository of papers and manuscripts “sent to this country to further the prosecution of the work.”[19]

Apparently not everyone was completely supportive of Adler’s work. In a response to F.W. True, whom Adler addressed as “Curator-in-Charge, U.S. National Museum,” Adler wrote a defense of his publishing the “Progress of Oriental Science in America During 1888” as an official Smithsonian document. True had indicated to Adler that the material collected for the report could be used for a private publication. Adler answered that it was likely that he could find a place to have the report privately printed, but that the reputation of the Smithsonian was a critical factor in his ability to compile future reports. Adler wrote:

I do not believe that I could so successfully gather the material if 1 were not able to do so in the name of the Smithsonian. Moreover, the principal object that I have had in mind was to place the oriental interest of the Museum before the Orientalists of this country. ... It has already resulted in securing a number of additions to the Library, although the report has not yet been printed.[20]

Adler was clearly determined to take what he believed was the right and necessary action.

First Exhibition of Oriental Antiquities at the United States National Museum

In February 1889 exhibition space was assigned to the Section of Oriental Antiquities, and on 2 March the inaugural exhibition was installed. It was a very exciting time at the museum because the opening of the first exhibition of the Section of Oriental Antiquities was set to coincide with the inauguration of President Harrison. As described in a biography of Cyrus Adler, “the curators worked late into the night attending to the last minute details, for soon the crowds would be arriving.”[21] The crowds certainly did come, and the final tally of visitors for 2-5 March 1889, as recorded in the annual report of the museum, was over 100,000, an incredible number even by today’s blockbuster standards.[22]

Among the items on display were several items of Judaica, including a shofar, the ram’s horn used on the Jewish High Holy Days, that had belonged to Cyrus Adler’s grandfather, Leopold Sulzberger.[23] The shofar was actually the perfect object for Adler to use to demonstrate the link between the Bible and contemporary Jewish ritual practice, because its form is the same as it was in antiquity.

An early Adler article follows this approach as well. In a letter to Rabbi Sabato Morais dated 17 November 1889, Adler wrote about a study he was preparing on the shofar as a ceremonial object, which was published as “The Shofar: Its Use and Origin” in the Annual Report of the United States National Museum, 1891–92.[24]

The Early Judaica Acquisitions

Many of the first objects acquired for the museum were obtained from Adler’s relatives and associates, including his uncle David Sulzberger, who had donated Leopold Sulzberger’s shofar, and his cousin Mayer Sulzberger. Then, too, there were the acquisitions from the Friedenwalds of Baltimore, Maryland (the family of his future wife, Racie). Henrietta Szold, who later founded the Hadassah Women’s Zionist Organization of America and who was a friend and colleague of Adler’s, donated a photograph of the Oheb Shalom Synagogue in Baltimore, where her father, Benjamin Szold, was rabbi.[25]

The earliest private collection of Judaica to be formed in the United States was that of Henry Sonneborn, an immigrant from Germany who became a major clothing manufacturer in Baltimore. Sonneborn presented his collection, which included a number of family heirlooms, to the Johns Hopkins University around the turn of the century.[26] It is rather surprising that Adler did not obtain the Sonneborn collection for the Smithsonian and did not even request that it be exhibited on loan; it is unknown why Adler did not do this. A catalog of the collection was compiled by William Rosenau, who became rabbi at Oheb Shalom in 1892.[27]

Adler began serious efforts to collect Judaica in the fall of 1889. The earliest mention of an attempt to purchase Jewish ceremonial objects for the Smithsonian was in a letter to Dr. Harry Friedenwald, which was drafted by Cyrus Adler on 16 September 1889 and sent by George Brown Goode. Friedenwald, who also had studied at Johns Hopkins and was a friend of Adler’s, had gone to Europe in April 1887 to continue his medical studies in ophthalmology in Germany. The letter was sent in care of Dr. Karl Hirschberger at the Universitäts Augenklinik in Munich:

The National Museum is desirous of securing a collection to illustrate Jewish ceremonial. The objects for this collection are difficult to obtain in this country. Dr. Cyrus Adler, a member of our scientific staff, has suggested that you would be willing to undertake some commissions for us in this direction and that your interest in the subject, as well as your connections in Europe would be of much assistance to us in this matter. We should like to have, for example, a kiddush cup, a spice box used in the ceremony of Havdalah. photographs of old or famous European synagogues etc. We should also be glad to get good photographs of the arch of Titus. Possibly it might be best if I told you what we have already secured, viz: a talith, phylacteries, mezuzah, Esther roll, slaughtering knife and lamp for the Feast of Dedication. We expect shortly to receive a Sepher Torah and its accompaniments but should be glad to hear of a good example. It is quite likely that you will think of some things which I have not mentioned. We have a shofar, but would be glad to have an old one curled in the Italian style.[28]

This letter does underscore the research aspect of the collection, which was central to the Smithsonian’s approach. Friedenwald was told, “In each case we should like to have the history which attaches to the object.” Though only $50 was allocated for the acquisitions, Friedenwald was able to make a number of purchases with the help of Sigmund Feuchtwanger, a collector of Jewish ceremonial objects, who took him to various antiquarian shops in quest of the items for the Smithsonian.[29] Friedenwald did obtain photographs of synagogues in Europe. These historic photographs are still maintained in the reference files of the Division of Community Life at the National Museum of American History.[30]

A request to facilitate Friedenwald’s efforts was sent by Adler to Sabato Morais on 24 November 1889. Adler wrote:

Dr. Harry Friedenwald who is now in Europe will shortly take a trip through Italy. He goes of course to see the hospitals but in addition he has a commission from the Smithsonian for the purchase of objects of Jewish ceremonial. A few letters from you to friends at Leghorn or Padua would no doubt assist in making his stay pleasant and further the object in view.[31]

As had been requested in the Smithsonian letter, Friedenwald did buy a shofar in Rome, and it is indeed “curled in the Italian style.”[32]

In September 1889 Adler had also written to Rabbi Bernhard Felsenthal of Zion Congregation in Chicago and clearly stated his intentions:

I am now attempting, in pursuance of a general plan in the Ethnological department of the Museum, to set up an exhibit of Jewish Ecclesiastical art which will ultimately grow into a collection of the implements of Jewish ceremonial. I shall be very grateful to you for any suggestion as to the scope of such a collection and the best places to secure the objects. As you may imagine they are hard to get in this country in good examples. I succeeded in securing a fair collection in New York some weeks ago and have made arrangements to get some from Europe [33]

Despite his letter to Felsenthal, Adler worked completely autonomously in conceptualizing the plan for the new section. Felsenthal was one of the early protagonists of the Reform movement, and his approach to the study of Judaism, specifically the Bible, and religious observance was antithetical to that of Adler, who was traditional in his own practice. In 1859 Felsenthal published a pamphlet entitled Kol Kore Bamidbar, in which he expressed his philosophy that the Bible was the product of Judaism and not the source of it. Furthermore, he emphasized the independence of the individual and the individual synagogue in determining religious rites.[34]

The Smithsonian’s accession records are quite good, and the objects purchased by Adler in New York are clearly identifiable. In saying that he had secured a “fair collection,” he was exaggerating, as his finds were not very substantial.[35] It is likely that Adler initiated the proposal to Friedenwald and enlisted Felsenthal’s aid because he was anxious to find more-important items for the Judaica collection; however, no acquisitions are recorded from Felsenthal.

Adler continued his efforts, and according to the 1890–1891 annual report for the Section of Oriental Antiquities, Adler spent much of the next year forming a collection of Jewish ceremonial objects. These were indeed considered to be cognate to the work of the Section. As the acquisitions grew, the Jewish ceremonial objects were separately installed in the exhibition.[36]

Harry Friedenwald, who returned to the United States in March 1890, was delighted to read the following notice in the newspaper:

There was recently placed on exhibition in the lecture hall of the United States National Museum at Washington a case of objects intended to illustrate Jewish ceremonial and worship. ... The objects are accompanied by descriptive labels and the exhibit is attracting much attention.[37]

The inclusion of Jewish ceremonial objects in the exhibition of Oriental antiquities was the first evidence of the beginning of a “Collection to Illustrate the Comparative History of Religion.” Under that heading, the Annual Report of the Board of Regents of the Smithsonian Institution for the Year Ending June 30, 1890, includes the following: “A collection of objects used in connection with the public and private ceremonies of the Jews is being formed under the supervision of Dr. Cyrus Adler.”[38]

There is no mention of ceremonial objects of any other religion or of future acquisition plans regarding other religions. The annual report further includes nearly four pages describing basic Jewish celebrations and the ceremonial objects used for the rituals. Nevertheless, the fact that the Judaica collection was the first step in the inception of the Section of Religious Ceremonials, which was established following the World’s Columbian Exposition, was later confirmed in Goode’s Annual Report for 1893:

Since 1889, objects of religious ceremonial have been exhibited in connection with the collection of Oriental antiquities. A beginning was made by the formation of an exhibit to illustrate the Jewish religion, but the scope has since been widened.[39]

6. The World’s Columbian Exposition

Returning from his 1889 European trip, which included a visit to the Exposition Universelle in Paris, Otis T. Mason was enthusiastic about the possibilities for the World’s Columbian Exposition, scheduled to be held in Chicago in 1892. George Brown Goode was given the opportunity to develop a plan for the fair, and in 1890 he prepared a “First Draft of a System of Classification for the World’s Columbian Exposition.” Goode repeated the theme he had expressed in “Museums of the Future,” written in 1889:

The exhibition of the future will be an exhibition of ideas rather than of objects, and nothing will be deemed worthy of admission to its halls which has not some living, inspiring thought behind it, and which is not capable of teaching some valuable lesson.[1]

The central message was progress, and the fair would portray “the steps of progress of civilization and its arts in successive centuries, and in all lands up to the present time” and become “an illustrated encyclopedia of civilization.”[2] Goode particularly wanted to demonstrate the advances made by the United States:

The exposition should be not merely a show, a fair, or a colossal shop, but also and preeminently, an exposition of the principles which underlie our national and individual welfare, of our material, intellectual and moral status; of the elements of our weakness and our strength, of the progress we have made, the plane on which we live and the ways in which we shall rise higher. It should be an exposition of knowledge, illustrated by the material objects shown. It should teach not only to our people, but to the world, what a young republic, with all the crudeness of youth, but heir to the experience of the ages, has done in its brief past, is doing in the present, and hopes to do in the greater future for its people and for mankind.[3]

Inherent in this theme, however, was the presumption of the preeminence of “civilization” over “primitive societies,” reinforcing the supposition of the superiority of Euro-American culture. This attitude has been described by Robert Rydell as “politically and culturally correct by the standards of an age characterized by the relentless search for overseas empire.”[4] The disparity was to be manifest at the fair in the ethnographic exhibitions on the Midway.

“Living” Ethnographic Exhibitions

The participation of the United States government at the fair was actually mandated by the act of Congress that created the exposition. What that meant in practical terms was that Congress was to pay all costs of administration, construction and care of buildings, and exhibit preparation.[5] In the course of the next two years, there were to be extensive preparations at the Smithsonian for the major event. However, the Smithsonian’s involvement was just one element in a much larger enterprise that included influential commercial investors.[6] This was certainly the case with regard to the anthropology exhibits. Frederick Ward Putnam, director and curator of the Peabody Museum at Harvard, was appointed in 1891 as the head of the Department of Ethnology and Archaeology for the fair.[7] For two years Putnam, with his chief assistant, Franz Boas, collected materials from sites throughout the Western Hemisphere. The Anthropology Building was constructed specially to house the collections of ethnography, archaeology, and physical anthropology, and there were several outdoor displays as well.[8]

In addition, there were ethnology exhibits, organized by Otis Mason, at the U.S. Government Building. Mason wrote about the planning for the exhibits in his annual report for the fiscal year 1890–1891. In his report, Mason cited previous presentations at the “great Expositions” and stressed the importance of the plan for the World’s Columbian Exposition as demonstrating, and thus validating, the contributions of a century of research in the field of ethnography. Although the plan reflects the care that would be taken in portraying the lifestyle of the “natives” prior to contact with European civilization, the authenticity sought by the researchers would also serve the purpose of demonstrating that the “native” life reflected a “primitive” society. The proposed plan, according to Mason, was

to show at Chicago, as accurately as possible the aboriginal life of North America at the time the natives were first visited by the Whites and before they were changed by contact with our civilization. Such an exhibit has never been attempted for any continent before because the means were not at hand to carry it out. It is true that in all the great Expositions much attention has been paid to primitive arts. The Paris Exposition of 1889 had a section devoted to the French Colonies in Africa and in South eastern Asia, and there was a most interesting series of structures illustrative of human habitations in all grades of culture. ... All of these efforts were successful in their way and it is now designed to follow them up with a comprehensive display which will enable the spectator to see the Continent as it appeared to the first explorers. At the same time the Exposition will furnish an appropriate culmination of a series of investigations which have been prosecuted for a century. ... The World’s Exposition furnishes the happy occasion of crowning the distinguished scholars who have for a hundred years been doing their best to make a great historic and ethnographic exhibit possible.[9]

But Thomas W. Palmer, president of the national commission for the fair, also had been to Paris. He wanted to replicate the villages he had seen at the Paris Exposition with native groups living on the Midway Plaisance, the mile-long area of the fair set aside for amusements and sideshows. Although many of Putnam’s materials did get displayed, more attention was afforded to the commercial and industrial exhibits. A compromise was reached about the Midway Plaisance, and Putnam was put in charge of those exhibits as well. Sol Bloom, then 21 years old, was made supervisor of the installation of the Midway exhibits as a member of Daniel Burnham’s Division of Works. Bloom, who became a real-estate developer, later gained prominence as a member of Congress and one of those who drafted the United Nations charter. He too had been to Paris and was quite surprised that Putnam was responsible for the Midway exhibits. The enterprising Bloom had actually signed a contract while still in Paris to bring the Algerian village to Chicago. In his autobiography he would recount that having Putnam in charge was like making “Albert Einstein manager of the Ringling Brothers and Barnum and Bailey Circus.”[10]

Unfortunately, contrary to Putnam’s intention, what had been intended to be pedagogic became essentially commercial, for visitors had to pay an entrance fee to each attraction. Furthermore, rather than educating visitors about other cultures and showing other peoples in a positive light, the Midway’s carnival-like atmosphere reinforced the stereotypes of the primitive, foreign, nonwhite “other.” The issue of race also emerged in the exhibitions of the Bureau of Indian Affairs and the Bureau of American Ethnology; its portrayal of the primitiveness of Native Americans was opposed by Richard Henry Pratt, founder of the Carlisle Indian School in Pennsylvania.[11] Similarly, the lack of African-Americans on the National Commission and other de facto obstacles to the presentation of exhibitions about African-Americans was decried by Frederick Douglass, who essentially described as a sham America’s posture as a “highly liberal and civilized nation” while at the same time, “as if to shame the Negro, the Dahomians [an African ethnic group exhibited on the Midway] are also here to exhibit the Negro as a repulsive savage.”[12]

As perhaps the quintessential example of the exotic and forbidden being transformed into a commodity,[13] the Midway probably became best known for Oriental dancing and certainly not for the historic cultures from which the dance traditions came.[14] What is extraordinary, considering how the Street in Cairo developed, is that it was the academic Cyrus Adler who negotiated the arrangements for this “exhibit.”

Adler’s Planning Excursion to the Near East

Adler shared the eagerness of his Smithsonian colleagues to teach the general public through expositions. After all, the 1888 Centennial Exposition of the Ohio Valley in Cincinnati had been a very positive experience for him. Adler too was to have a role in the ethnography exhibits at the World’s Columbian Exposition, although his historical perspective, as recounted by him decades later, seems more than a bit grandiose. In 1890, according to his autobiography, it was Adler who presented to Congress the concept of inviting foreign governments to participate in the fair to be held in Chicago. Adler describes how a chance encounter on a train with a newspaperman, William Elroy Curtis, and a great Chicago merchant, James W. Ellsworth, led to Adler’s recommendation not only that the exposition gather together the products of the world, as did the Centennial Exposition in Philadelphia, but also that “they ought to go one step further and try to gather together the peoples of the world and show them at their work.”[15] The model Adler claimed to have proposed was the Rue du Caire at the Paris exposition of 1889, and he suggested that the Chicago exposition could similarly represent the entire Orient with ethnographic villages. It was likely Mason’s description of the Paris fair that Adler used for reference.

It is important to note that the Midway was not exclusively devoted to the Near Eastern attractions, nor was it devoted entirely to “primitive” peoples. There was, of course, the Ferris wheel. In addition, there were several European peoples represented. However, the presentation of white European ethnic groups was markedly different. For example, Rydell describes the German village, which was operated by the immigration agent for the Atchison, Topeka, and Santa Fe Railroad, as an apparent display of the ability of German immigrants to assimilate into American society.[16]

Among the “exotic” cultures, there was a particular fascination—both among the organizers and among the people who visited the fair—with the exhibits from the Near East.[17] In Europe there was a great interest in Islam and an obsession with Orientalism, which had begun with Napoleon’s Egyptian campaign in the late eighteenth century and persisted until World War I. The enchantment with the Near East was heightened by such events as the conquest of Algeria by France in 1830 and the opening of the Suez Canal in 1869. Moreover, the ever-expanding network of railroads facilitated travel, making access to these faraway, romantic places much easier. Orientalism (the term was coined in France), one of the many schools (or styles) that developed in the nineteenth century, was originally used to identify the painters and paintings of the Near East. However, the captivation with the mysterious, evocative subject matter of the Near East was reflected in other arts as well, and Orientalism became widespread in Europe and even the United States. Yet there was an ambivalence: on the one hand, Near Eastern peoples and their cultures were intriguing, but on the other, these peoples, when encountered, were still “inscrutable Orientals.”[18]

Representation of different countries was an integral element of world’s fairs from the very outset. Though the emphasis was on the achievements of the colonial powers, there is certainly evidence that these installations were elaborately developed and presented with dignity. For example, a contemporary source indicates that the Turkish section at the landmark 1851 Crystal Palace Exhibition

was arranged with infinite taste; the whole resembling the Turkish bazaars, where goods are displayed after the Eastern fashion. Those persons who had previously visited the famous shops of Adrianople, of Constantinople, and of Smyrna, were not prepared lo see the variety and the richness of the articles.[19]

Islam was introduced at the 1867 and 1889 expositions in Paris. The political agenda of the sponsoring countries was to represent a national identity for Islam to the European audience through large and extravagant installations.[20] The fame of the Street in Cairo had clearly spread, and now the commercial enterprise was clearly linked to the exotic and to the entertainment factor.

When the plan to include living ethnographic exhibits from the Near East at the World’s Columbian Exposition was approved, Adler became a special commissioner and spent fifteen months in Turkey, Egypt, Tunisia, Algeria, and Morocco making the necessary arrangements.[21] For Adler, the student of Semitics, it was a rare opportunity, though the lessons he ultimately would learn were more about economics and realpolitik than about the ancient Near East. Most of his letters were written to his mother, and although he recorded much factual data, the missives are also informal and provide an interesting personal glimpse into his experiences.

A letter written from London at the start of his trip hints at things to come. For example, though he was to meet routinely with members of the Jewish community wherever he went, he took care to separate his Jewish interests from his assigned task of negotiating for the World’s Columbian Exposition[22] For instance, he noted that he was not going to seek out Baron de Hirsch or the Sassoons, as they “farm the revenues of the Turkish and Persian governments and are unpopular in official circles.”[23]

In the same letter, he also mentioned that the Times of London had reported a “serious row” at the U.S. government committee meeting in Chicago, putting the entire exposition in jeopardy. This was the first of several problems and delays from Chicago, causing Adler to fear that his efforts would be compromised. Regarding the possible cancellation, he good-naturedly wrote to his mother, “I don’t believe it, but am going to hurry on as I should rather be recalled from Constantinople than London.”[24]

Adler gained insight into the political aspect of his activities when he met Brusch Bey in Berlin. Brusch Bey was in government service in Turkey for over twenty years; he represented the Egyptian government at the Philadelphia Centennial Exposition in 1876 and served as German minister to Persia for some time.[25] Brusch Bey’s advice about negotiations with Egypt was that Adler must meet with the khedive for appearances, even though the ruler was powerless; the British really controlled Egypt, and Adler would need to deal with the British government. Brusch Bey cautioned him that he must “rely absolutely on the American minister and use only government channels; not... attempt to do anything by the influence of a private person,”[26] and Adler’s experiences in Egypt in March and April of 1891 would prove that Brusch Bey’s advice was well taken. Brusch Bey also gave Adler a letter of introduction to the Persian minister in Berlin.

Adler took the opportunity on his European stops to visit a number of museums. He kept a diary in which he jotted down his evaluations of the several museums he visited. Even these private notes reflect his striving to be professional in his comments as to the technical aspects of the museum installations and in assessing how scientific they were in their approach to the material on display, as well as the quality of the collections. Yet there was also the element of sheer excitement in actually seeing these museums. The dichotomy is exemplified in a letter describing the British Museum:

Friday evening we spent at the British Museum, the wonders of which it is simply impossible to describe. I do not think that for the ancient world their collections can ever be duplicated. Nevertheless, it seems to me that the Smithsonian is in better hands and that from a scientific point of view, and in matter of arrangement, we are far ahead of our English cousins.[27]

During the month of December 1890 he also visited museums in Paris, Cologne, Berlin, and Vienna. Of the Oriental Museum in Vienna, which was located above the stock exchange, he wrote that it had a good collection, but that it was “miserably arranged, not a decent label, and very dark.”

After a 45-hour train ride on the Orient Express, Adler arrived in Constantinople. He was immediately struck by the cosmopolitanism of the city, with its Turks, Arabs, Armenians, Greeks, French, English, and Americans. The mystique of Orientalism also captivated him quickly; just two days after his arrival he participated in the weekly pomp and circumstance of the sultan’s trip from his palace to the mosque. Adler wrote, “Today is a great day in Constantinople and I have seen a great sight. ... My travels thus far have taught me one thing, and that is that words do not describe. ... No spectacle I have ever seen can in any way compare with this in brilliancy.”[28]

When he arrived in Constantinople, Adler was concerned because his initial meeting with the American representative in Turkey, Solomon Hirsch (1839–1902), was not as warm and cordial as he had hoped. As he confided to his mother, “I have no doubt we shall get along well together, but my impression was a man to be handled gingerly—not the hail fellow, well-met style. Hang it all, I wish Straus were minister.”[29] Adler apparently felt that his connections with the German Jewish elite would have stood him in good stead with the previous U.S. representative, Oscar Straus. However, the Straus connection did benefit him after all, as Adler soon met Robert Levy, a Turkish Jewish merchant of whom Straus had spoken. Adler immediately admired Levy and described his bazaar as the “handsomest I have seen.”[30] Levy sent kosher food to Adler’s hotel room and invited him to spend Shabbat at his home.

As Adler rightly suspected from their very first meeting, Levy’s cordiality was not without ulterior motive: “I think he is hospitable by nature and besides I have very strong reasons for supposing that he suspects my business here and that he wants to do a big thing at Chicago—get a monopoly for a Constantinople exhibit.”[31] Levy became Adler’s contact to the Jewish community. Ultimately, Levy’s company, Souhami, Sadullah and Co., would get a contract to represent Turkey at the World’s Columbian Exposition.[32]

Adler continued to meet with merchants and felt sure that if the Turkish government agreed to be represented at the fair, there would be no problem finding dealers, as they all seemed interested. However, he was quickly becoming schooled in the modus operandi of the streets. Adler wrote in his diary that there was a Turkish proverb that struck him as particularly appropriate:

“Bal tootan parmaghini jalar,” He who handles honey licks his fingers. This like most Turkish proverbs has a business application. It means that a man who acts as intermediary to secure a good position or concession must get something for it.[33]

He was also learning that the bureaucracy of the World’s Columbian Exposition was going to cause delays as well. In a letter to his uncle David Sulzberger on 11 January 1891, Adler expressed his concerns:

I hope the official proclamation [from the President] will soon come. I may be delayed here a whole month yet. I can hardly blame the Turks for being slow when our government is ditto and Mr. Hirsch declines to present the matter at the Palace until he gets his instructions from the Department of State. In view of the condition of affairs I quite agree with him but it is aggravating just the same. Fortunately for me I have oriental blood in my veins and know how to wait. I should have a fever if I didn’t. It would be very hard for me to be here and not be able to go to Baghdad or Persia but I shall of course let business take precedence of longings. Egypt is most important for me after this place while Persia is safe in the hands of our minister there.[34]

While he was waiting for the official approval, Adler continued his efforts to make the acquaintance of potential participants in the fair. Besides the commercial contacts, he had several meetings with Hamdi Bey, who was the director of the Imperial Museum, a museum of archaeology. The collection there included Greek, Assyrian, Egyptian, and Palmyran antiquities. Among the treasures of the museum was the jewelry found by Schliemann at Troy.[35] Adler attributed the fact that the Imperial Museum was not very “scientific” in its orientation to the director’s position being largely a post of honor. By 6 February Adler was happy to report that he had secured permission to make any casts he wished and that copies could be made for the University of Pennsylvania as well. The sweetening of the deal for Hamdi Bey was Adler’s assurance that no matter what happened with the government, Hamdi Bey himself could exhibit as an artist. Adler noted that Hirsch had helped him out by announcing a diplomatic dinner to which the museum director was to be invited and that “it is the little things that turn the scales.”[36]

Adler also met with Tewfik Bey Ebuzia, director of the Museum of Janissaries. Adler was extremely impressed with this museum and noted in one of his letters that its Turkish name meant “ancient costume.” He felt that the labels, which were written in Turkish, French, Greek, and Armenian, were particularly noteworthy. He wrote in his diary, “The labels are good and many a European Museum of more scientific pretensions would be well if its labels were so good.”[37] During a visit on 22 February, Tewfik Bey reiterated his promise to send a collection of costumes to America and told Adler that he really wanted to go along. He told Adler that even if he was not appointed a commissioner, he would finance his own trip.[38]

In early February Adler was apparently beginning to feel the pressure of time, and he made the decision to go on to Egypt even though things were not settled in Turkey. However, by the time he sailed, things were beginning to fall into place. In a report to the United States National Museum dated 24 February, written en route to Alexandria, Adler summarized his accomplishments. In addition to the commitments by Hamdi Bey and Tewfik Bey, Adler wrote that he had secured promises of exhibits from some artists and schools, met with the grand vizier and the minister of foreign affairs, and, pending approval from Chicago, negotiated an agreement with the merchants for an exhibit replicating part of a bazaar.

They agree to erect a bazaar with forty shops each one containing a native at work. A Mosque, ten Turkish houses and to erect a square of Constantinople at Chicago (the ancient Hippodrome) with facsimiles of the monuments still standing. They will put up buildings etc. at their own expense in exchange for a restaurant and sale privileges. I hope it will be ratified as it would be a fine exhibit.[39]

When he arrived in Egypt, the situation there seemed unpromising. On 8 March he wrote facetiously:

The Exposition business here is in lovely condition. The Department of State has sent the Consul General no instructions so he is not able to act. I telegraphed to Constantinople and Mr. Grant in Washington. If the Department manages all business as it does the Exposition, it isn’t anything to be proud of.[40]

His spirits lifted somewhat when he visited the Gizeh Museum, a museum of antiquities. Formerly known as the Boulak Museum, it had recently moved to a palace in Gizeh and been renamed. Adler described the building as large and beautiful and offered the opinion that the Egyptian collection was far better than those in London and Paris. Also on display were fifty cuneiform tablets from Tell el-Amarna. Unfortunately, there were few labels and no catalog.[41]

Finally, on 24 March, a telegram arrived authorizing Adler to go ahead with his negotiations, as a formal invitation was in the mail to the Egyptian government. On 31 March Adler, dressed in a Prince Albert coat procured for the occasion, paid a ceremonial visit to the khedive. On 6 April Adler wrote his uncle David that he was very anxious to get things done before Ramadan, but he fretted, “It’s like trying to make water go uphill to hurry things up in this part of the world.”[42] Brusch Bey’s advice proved correct, and Adler recognized the importance of dealing with the British in his negotiations.[43]

On 16 April he was finally able to send an optimistic report:

I have gotten a favorable answer from the government, was present at the meeting of the Commission, they have agreed to put in the report what I want, and I have received a proposition for an Arab quarter, Egyptian temple, etc., in fact, a good show. If the Exposition authorities will ratify the arrangement I think the result will be good [44]

By this point, however, he seemed resigned to the fact that the aims of the “living ethnographic exhibits” were going to be compromised. The educational environment the anthropologists wanted to create was becoming a burlesque. It was difficult to make arrangements that excluded lucrative ventures.[45] Adler’s positive letter of 16 April was tempered by the news that

FIGURE 11.—“In the Cairo Street,” World’s Columbian Exposition. (The Dream City: A Portfolio of Photographic Views of the World’s Columbian Exposition)

all this week all sorts of people have been at me with all sorts of schemes—everybody wants to run a show and charge an entrance fee. As a matter of fact it is impossible to get the things I want from here without some sort of a side show arrangement. I am against it on principle but the people are spoiled by the fact that it was permitted in Paris.[46]

From Cairo Adler traveled to Jerusalem, where he celebrated Passover, and then went on to Beirut and Damascus before returning to Constantinople. He found that there were still problems to be resolved. A major issue was the loss, through embezzlement and bribes, of a significant sum of money that the government had allocated for the 1876 Centennial Exhibition. It was already late May when Adler wrote:

The Grand Vizier seems to be afraid to do anything for fear the money will be wasted. They appropriated $40,000 for the Philadelphia Exhibition and it all leaked out on the road. So I got Mr. Hirsch to ask the Grand Vizier to accept and appoint some one to meet me and we will outline an exhibit and furnish an estimate. He said he would do this. Then Pangiri Bey, who is the Sultan’s secretary came and told me the same thing—that they were afraid to give any money for fear it would all go to the devil—just think of such a government. The Sultan and Grand Vizier are both good able men but they are surrounded on every side by a horde of bandits.[47]

Adler’s work on behalf of the Exposition was not limited to the exhibitions. For example, in his autobiography he describes his negotiations with the representatives of the grand vizier in Constantinople:

FIGURE 12.—“Turkish Pavilion,” World’s Columbian Exposition. (The Dream City: A Portfolio of Photographic Views of the World’s Columbian Exposition)

Days were spent in discussing the question as to whether if a Moslem workingman should fall ill or have an accident on the grounds of the Exposition, I could assure him proper hospital treatment, and the possibility of eating food prepared according to Moslem law, whether a Mosque would be permitted on the grounds of the Exposition and services could be conducted there. These and other weighty matters were discussed with the royal commission, as well as details of the business end with representatives of the syndicate.[48]

Given all these concerns, it is interesting to note that it was asserted, at least according to a description by Isidore Lewi, that many of those who came to work in the Turkish village were not Moslems but Jews, which makes sense, given that the proprietors of the simulated bazaar shops were Jewish. The implication is that what was represented was indeed more theater than ethnography. Evidence to this effect is given in Lewi’s report, entitled “Yom Kippur on the Midway,” which provides a fascinating glimpse of the observance of this holiest of days at the World’s Columbian Exposition:

About four-fifths of the inhabitants of the Turkish village on the Midway Plaisance at the Chicago Exposition were Jews. Merchants, clerks, actors, servants, musicians, and even the dancing girls, were of the mosaic faith, though their looks and garb would lead one to believe them Mohammedans. ... The Turkish mosque was so arranged that it could be used as a Jewish house of worship. ...

It was in this gorgeously equipped and dimly lighted mosque that the oriental Jews assembled on Tuesday evening, September 19, 1893, and read the Kol Nidre services. ...

They came from all parts of the Orient. Constantinople had the largest representation, though there were men from Adrianople, Tunis, Tripoli, Damascus, Smyrna, Bombay, Calcutta, from Algeria and other Eastern points, and two men from New York. And here it was seen how wise were those who made Hebrew the language of prayer for the Jews. Coming from lands far apart, unfamiliar with one another’s language, unable to converse with one another in many instances, still in prayer, by the use of the same language, they were united.[49]

After all the earlier promises and the many delays, Adler was shocked to learn from a newspaper report on 21 June that a commission to represent Turkish interests at the World’s Columbian Exposition had been established without consulting him or even informing him of what they planned to do.

Through Hirsch, the grand vizier agreed to have Adler meet with the minister of public works and a committee from the chamber of commerce. Adler’s response was, “I am now where I must keep my eyes very wide open—so many intriguers who think that there is something to be made out of it. I am trying to be as polite as they are and stick to my guns.”[50]

It became ever clearer to Adler that economics was a critical factor in his dealings with both sides. The World’s Columbian Exposition Commission saw the Midway as an opportunity to gain revenue for the exposition’s investors. In July of 1891, while still in Constantinople, Adler received word from Chicago that the commission was to receive 25 percent of the gross receipts of all merchandise sold. In a letter dated 14 July 1891 he complained that if that was the case, on top of the stiff duties charged under the McKinley Tariff of 1890, it would “keep all the merchants at home.” He wrote that he intended to try to get the decision changed, for if it was not, “I might as well give up the ship.”[51] Fortunately, his protestations worked, and on 24 July he received a telegram saying that the Chicago exposition commission would agree to liberal terms and that a representative of the Turkish government commission should travel to Chicago to execute a contract and arrange the details. Adler thought Robert Levy would likely go.[52]

There were a couple of additional surprises that July. He reported in one of his letters to his uncle David that he had received a good deal of correspondence from Chicago questioning the appropriateness of Oriental dancing at the fair. He said there were many “pros and cons” and he did not want to make a decision, so he had asked the Chicago commission’s directors to postpone a decision until he returned. In the letter Adler explained that there was no dancing in public in Turkey; rather, it was done “in private altogether,” and he indicated that he was going to a party to evaluate the situation. After the event, his opinion, as expressed to his mother, was that the dancing “would not shock anyone’s notions of propriety.” He also remarked that one of the girls was a Greek who “speaks eleven languages well and she dances for a couple of hours a night.”[53] Clearly he must have been rather naive, and even if he made any protestations about the authenticity of dancing in public, they went unheeded. Indeed, these performances became a highlight of the Midway.[54]

FIGURE 13.—“Dancing Girl in the Street of Cairo Theater,” World’s Columbian Exposition. (The Dream City: A Portfolio of Photographic Views of the World’s Columbian Exposition)

Adler was beginning to make plans to return to the United States when he received a directive to continue on to Tunis and await instructions. Although he thought this a bit strange, apparently he felt that it was an affirmation by the exposition’s organizers of the value of his role, which, he wrote, he was beginning to doubt.[55]

September brought yet another bombshell: On 4 September Adler wrote that there was to be a new grand vizier and that he feared all of the agreements would be repudiated. Fortunately, this turned out not to be the case, and by 6 September he felt confident that both the Turkish and Egyptian plans would go forward.[56] Adler left for Tunis and in October was told to travel to Algiers and Morocco and then return to Constantinople by 1 November. By December Adler was more than ready to return home.

Cyrus Adler, Anglophile

Although Adler did not acquire any Judaica on his trip, his visit to London en route to the Near East did provide him with an influential concept for an exhibition on religious ceremonials. He would later write that at the Anglo-Jewish Historical Exhibition, “the richest collection of Jewish ceremonial objects ever gotten together was placed on exhibition.”[57]

While in London he made contact with many of the city’s young Jewish intellectuals.[58] His high opinion of the Anglo-Jewish scholars was confirmed when he met them, and Adler became a true Anglophile.[59] So impressed was he with the cultural renaissance in England that later, after a second trip to Europe and the Near East in 1894, he called for similar efforts in America.[60]

Among those who impressed him the most was Lucien Wolf, who, as described earlier, was one of the major figures in orchestrating the Anglo-Jewish Historical Exhibition. Adler mentioned Wolf in a letter to his mother, written from London on 1 December 1890. He wrote that Wolf had tremendous collections for a history of the Jews of England and some on the Jews of Holland. Adler hinted to Wolf that such a collection was wanted in Washington, but he received no response.

The aims of the Anglo-Jewish Historical Exhibition very much paralleled Adler’s own mission. He too wanted to provide knowledge about Jewish history and ceremony on the theory that greater knowledge of the Jewish community would lead to less prejudice. Adler’s role in the founding of the American Jewish Historical Society in 1892 only strengthened this position. Among the Britons Adler met was Joseph Jacobs, an eminent literary scholar. Jacobs later came to the United States and at Adler’s behest tried to organize an American Jewish historical exhibition through the American Jewish Historical Society, but the plans were never realized.[61]

In the published version of the paper he delivered at the anthropology conference at the World’s Columbian Exposition, Adler included several appendices, including the “Classification of the Anglo-Jewish Exhibition.”[62] Adler purchased installation photographs of the ceremonial arts exhibits at the Anglo-Jewish Historical Exhibition in the summer of 1892 while he was in the midst of planning the exhibition of religious ceremonial objects at the World’s Columbian Exposition.[63]

Adler Returns to Washington

Adler returned from the Near East in January 1892 and resumed work at the Smithsonian in March. On his return to the United States, Adler gave the Jewish Exponent a statement on his accomplishments that gave no hint of the trials and tribulations of his work. In his diplomatic way, he completely avoided any mention of the political nature of his negotiations, and there was no clue given that the exhibits would be anything but educational.

In the several countries which I visited, (Turkey, Egypt, Syria, Tunis, Algiers and Morocco) about $ 1,200,000 has already been subscribed by merchants and manufacturers, engaged in the various native industries, for purposes of representation at Chicago. This sum is exclusive of all governmental grants and is likely to be further swelled by additional subscriptions. The exhibits will take the form of a series of village streets, reproduc.ng the native architecture, life, dress, speech and industries of the particular locality. Native artisans will be seated in front of native shops attired in characteristic costumes, speaking their native tongue, and working away with native implements at their peculiar crafts. Nothing will be spared to make the reproduction as realistic and life-like as possible, and the visitor will have nothing to remove the impression that he is really in a street in Constantinople, or whatever spot the exhibit may be designed to reproduce. I estimate that some four hundred natives will come to this country for the purposes of creating the buildings and of reproducing the industrial life of the Orient. ... The entire Oriental exhibit will probably occupy some 400,000 square feet, and be a most interesting and attractive feature of the Exposition.[64]

Proposal for an Exhibition on Religious Ceremonials for the Exposition

Once Adler returned to the United States, he was no longer involved with the Near Eastern ethnographic exhibits, but rather with creating an exhibition on religion for the fair. Adler’s later recollections, as published in his autobiography, obscure somewhat the details of how the exhibition’s philosophy and timetable were developed. Adler reported in his autobiography that the decision to mount an exhibition at the World’s Columbian Exposition emanated from the Cincinnati Exposition:

The idea that the American people were much interested in the Bible and biblical archaeology, and also in Jewish subjects, as well as the general history of religion, had gained growth in the mind of Dr. Goode. ...I was encouraged, therefore to put up a much larger exhibit on these subjects than the first one of its kind at the smaller Cincinnati Exposition of 1888.[65]

However, in an earlier publication, Adler’s introduction to the 1908 catalog The Collection of Jewish Ceremonial Objects in the United States National Museum, he noted that it was in 1890 that a formal treatment of the subject of religion was first developed. He also stated that this work had been initiated in anticipation of an exhibition on religion at the World’s Columbian Exposition based on a scientific method of classification.

In 1890 the question was taken up of the possibility of applying such treatment to religion, a subject of whose importance in the history of humanity there has never been any question. There was a doubt, however, in the minds of many as to whether the abstract ideas which group themselves about the word ‘religion’ could be adequately or even fairly portrayed through ceremonial objects, numerous as they might be. Two members of the staff were instructed, while abroad, to examine into this subject, with the result that, in 1891, it was decided to secure objects of religious ceremony with the view primarily to exhibit them at the World’s Columbian Exposition in Chicago, and ultimately with the intention of bringing them together for installation in the National Museum.[66]

It is not clear who these two staff members were. It may be that Adler was referring to Mason’s trip and his own, though, as has been indicated, he made no such acquisitions during his trip to the Near East. In retrospect, what Adler was trying to establish was that his work prior to his Near East trip had laid the groundwork for an expansion of the scientific study of religion, as had been projected in the annual report of 1890.[67] The ultimate result was the same: when Adler returned in 1892, he did propose organizing an exhibition on religious ceremonials for the World’s Columbian Exposition, and in 1893, after the fair, the Section of Historic Religious Ceremonials was established at the Smithsonian Institution.

Establishing a Model for the Study of Religion

One of the stops Adler made on his return trip from the Near East was Paris, where he visited the Musée Guimet. Though he critiqued the museum’s methods, Adler wrote in his autobiography of its importance as a model for the study of religion at the Smithsonian:

It was a former visit to the Musée Guimet in Paris, which was devoted exclusively to the history of religions and later incorporated in the museum system of France, that helped me and the authorities of the Museum to decide to put up a collection for the study of the history of religions in the National Museum.[68]

The Musée Guimet was established in Lyon in 1879 and moved to Paris in 1885 to display the collection assembled by Emile Guimet, who had been sent on a mission by the French Ministry of Public Instruction to study the religions of the Orient. Goode was extremely enthusiastic about the Musée Guimet, and Mason, who visited there in 1889, must have agreed with Goode’s assessment. Goode wrote that the Musée Guimet, “which is intended to illustrate the history of religious ceremonial among all races of men,” is “most remarkable” among those museums “which are devoted to some special field of human thought and interest.”[69]

Whereas Goode’s appraisal of the Musée Guimet was a positive factor in the establishment of a department of religious ceremonials at the Smithsonian, Adler, though noting the “splendid character of its collections” and stressing the “great impetus they have given to scientific research,” nonetheless disagreed with the Parisian approach and indicated that the Musée Guimet had “serious weaknesses:”

The general classification as well as the special arrangement are defective from the point of view of a museum of religions. ...

Geographical considerations have dictated the general classifications, so that the Chinese, Japanese and Indian Buddhism, for example, are shown out of relation to one another. ...So strongly has the aesthetic arrangement predominated that I am informed the character of the museum is to be changed, and that in the future it will be devoted to Oriental art. ...

The most serious fault of the museum, however, is that it fails to furnish an intelligent train of thought to the mind of the average visitor. The real method of popular education consists in imparting the unknown in terms of the known. ... From the point of view of popular education it is therefore a capital error that the Musée Guimet has not included the Christian religion, as well as the Mohammedan and Jewish religions.[70]

Adler’s Model for the Study of Religion

For Adler, Semitic scholar and committed Jew, it was essential to structure any study of religion in relationship to the study of the Bible. It was a logical step for him to move from the study of Oriental antiquities to a focus on biblical archaeology and then develop the link to Judaism and its “daughter” religions, Christianity and Islam. This conception of the relationships among these three religions, with Judaism as the “mother,” demonstrates that Adler held a triumphalist view of Judaism. The study of these religions would provide a model for studying other religions that would validate his cultural politics.

Adler’s view was, of course, very different from the dogma he hoped to counteract, attitudes that were probably unspoken in his professional relationships at the Museum. As succinctly described by Naomi Cohen, the typical conviction held by the American public was directly linked to the outlook that had been brought from Europe:

Although Christianity recognized the importance of Judaism, the foundation on which it rested, it taught that the mother faith had been bypassed by the new revelation. The Jews, the original children of Israel, had rejected the messiahship of Jesus and crucified him. For that crime, they became a despised and persecuted people. The settlers of the New World brought these doctrines with them from Europe, and long before they had actual contacts with Jews their opinions of “the Jew” were fixed.[71]

Organizing the Exhibition

Correspondence in the Smithsonian Institution Archives indicates that plans for an exhibition of religious ceremonials at the World’s Columbian Exposition began as soon as Adler returned to the United States National Museum in the spring of 1892. The earliest document is a letter dated 14 March 1892 from Adler to Otis T. Mason:

As you are aware, I have for some time been engaged in making collections to illustrate the ceremonies of the Jews and Mohamedans [sic]. If it is at all possible, I think it would be most interesting to make a comprehensive exhibit of objects of religious ceremonial (in outline at least) at the World’s Columbian Exposition. Will you kindly inform me how much material there now exists in duplicate in your department that might be copied either by photography or casting for such an exhibit.

Before undertaking to draw up a plan and make a recommendation on the subject, I should be glad to know whether this exhibit would in any way interfere with, or duplicate the exhibit you are preparing for the Exposition.[72]

It was not until 13 May 1892 that Adler submitted to George Brown Goode his proposal to mount an exhibition on religious ceremonials at the World’s Columbian Exposition. In his letter. Adler addressed Goode as the “Representative of the Smithsonian Institution and U.S. National Museum at the World’s Columbian Exposition.”

In addition to a linguistic exhibit, already proposed, I beg to suggest that there be installed in the National Museum exhibit at the World’s Columbian Exposition an exhibit of Religious Ceremony illustrating public and private religious ceremonial.

As a tentative list of the religions to be illustrated I would suggest Judaism, Mohammedanism, Buddhism, Brahmanism [Hinduism], Egyptian, Babylonian, Greek and four North American Indian religions.

It will he necessary that the collections of the National Museum form the basis of the exhibit and that the cooperation of the various Missionary Boards be invited.[73]

These letters not only reveal the late date at which the proposal was made but also give an indication of the lack of any significant organization prior to that point in the development of the religious ceremonials exhibition. This is underscored by the memo that accompanied Adler’s letter to Goode regarding objects already in the collections and his assessment as to what should be acquired.

FIGURE 14.—“Marriage Ceremony of the German Jews,” by Bernard Picart, France, 1725; NMAH 154575-M. (Negative number 92–13058)

The Museum now contains a considerable quantity of material for the illustration of the Jewish, Buddhist, Brahman and American Indian Religions.

There is little material for the Mohammedan religion. The following objects would be necessary. A model (3 ft. high) of a pulpit about $ 100; a mosque lamp $25; Qoran Stand $50; banners used in feasts $25; photographs of mosques and fountains $ 10; series of photographs of the Holy Places of Mecca $15; Costume of Whirling Dervish and Imam $50; figures of these costumes. I have in my possession the following objects which I shall be glad to lend. A dervish drum and figures of the Mohammedan attitude in prayer. I think that for the sum of $400 a most attractive exhibit of the Mohammedan religion could be made.

It is not impossible that some of these objects could be secured in America. For the Egyptian, Babylonian and Greek religions I would recommend a series of casts illustrating the pantheons and of photographs to show worship.

To the Jewish collection there should be added a model of the Temple and Tabernacle as well as illustrations of particular ceremonies, these latter are accessible in this country.

The Museum now possesses a copy of [Bernard] Picart’s great work on religious ceremonies containing more than 300 illustrations. These should be mounted.

I expect shortly to visit the cities of New York, Philadelphia and Chicago. It would be advisable that a decision be reached in order that I might without loss of time confer with persons connected with Missionary Boards and also ascertain what material can be purchased in this country,[74]

It is significant that Adler does not mention any objects of Christian ceremony, though he does refer to missionary boards as possible sources of material. The reason for this is unknown, and it is surprising insofar as Goode had acquired in Italy a significant number of Catholic ceremonial objects for the museum. In addition, such an omission calls into question the philosophy Adler had articulated in the description of the purpose of the establishment of the Section of Religious Ceremonials; it had been intended

to interest people in the history of religion by leading them to the unknown, as it were, in the terms of the known. Accordingly the first three religions to which attention was given were Judaism, Christianity, and Mohammedanism, in the order of their respective establishments.[75]

Adler received an appointment as an assistant for the Board of Management of the U.S. Government Exhibits on I July 1892.[76] On 8 September 1892 he received authorization to travel to Baltimore, Philadelphia, New York, Boston, and, if necessary, Andover, Massachusetts, and Newport, Rhode Island, “for the purpose of conferring with owners of collections of religious ceremonial objects with a view to acquiring additional specimens for the exhibit of religions to be made by the Smithsonian and the National Museum at the World’s Columbian Exposition.”[77]

In December 1892 Adler was appointed librarian of the Smithsonian by Secretary Langley. At that time, according to a personnel memo, Adler was only “incidentally” doing World’s Fair work.[78] Adler would continue to make trips seeking loans through March 1893, when he left for Chicago to begin installing the exhibition. As late as 15 March he traveled to Philadelphia to see the collections of Sabato Morais and Mayer Sulzberger and to New York to review possible loans from the collection of N. Taylor Phillips.[79]

The uncertainty about whether or not Christianity was to be presented persisted through the planning stages. A letter from Adler to R. Edward Earll, the overall exhibits manager, on 27 September 1892 reveals that they had not yet started to collect Christian ceremonial objects:

I secured the gift of one object and the loan of a number of valuable private collections of Jewish ecclesiastical art. I also secured considerable information and offers of assistance for a collection of Christian Ecclesiastical Art should the Museum decide to take up that subject.[80]

On 29 March 1893 Earll wrote to Adler:

There is in Mr. Goode’s room a bone cross obtained by him in Italy. I do not know whether you have any designs on this for your Chicago exhibit or not, but mention it so that if you desire to have the specimen you may waylay Mr. Goode and get it.[81]

For an unknown reason, none of the Christian material acquired by Goode was exhibited at the fair. In fact, not until after Goode’s death, in 1896, were the objects of Christian ceremony that he had purchased in Italy turned over to the Division of Historic Religions.[82]

The Christian religion was represented in the exhibition by a group of Russian copper icons and crosses of the Eastern Orthodox Church. These had recently been purchased from a collection amassed by George Kunz, an expert on gems, who had traveled to the August 1892 fair in Nizhnii Novgorod, Russia, to seek out treasures for Tiffany and Company of New York and his private American clients. In particular, Kunz sought items that would meet the American interest in Russian culture, another element of the fascination with Orientalism—the “exotic East.” However, when he returned from his travels, Kunz offered the Smithsonian the entire group of icons and crosses he had acquired.[83]

Judaica at the World’s Columbian Exposition

While on his trip to the Near East, Adler limited himself to the task at hand, and though he traveled widely on behalf of the exposition, he did not acquire any Judaica or other religious ceremonial objects from abroad for the Smithsonian. A Torah shield from the fair’s Turkish pavilion was later purchased from Robert Levy’s partner, Mr. Souhami, whom Adler had met during his trip.[84]

While in Egypt, however, Adler did purchase from a local shopkeeper manuscripts from the Cairo Genizah.[85] The Cairo Genizah was a group of fragmentary documents found in the attic of the ancient Ezra Synagogue, originally built in the ninth century C.E. These fragments accumulated over a period of several hundred years because of the prohibition against destroying any text with God’s name in it; thus these documents were kept in a special area in the synagogue called the genizah, literally “hidden place.” Although the Cairo Genizah had been identified in the eighteenth century and was seen in 1864 by Jacob Saphir, the legend that disaster would befall anyone who disturbed the sacred pages discouraged removal of the documents. Occasionally some leaves were removed surreptitiously and sold to visitors, as in Adler’s experience. In another of Adler’s autobiographical reminiscences, he recounts how he showed the leaves he had purchased in Cairo to Dr. Solomon Schechter in 1892 and asserted that he was “flattered” that his own “accidental purchase” was among the leads that enabled Schechter to make his famous discovery of the several hundred thousand pages in the genizah. It was not until 1896 that Schechter, after long negotiations, was able to take about half of the 200,000 documents to Cambridge, England, to begin research.[86] Adler later gave the documents he purchased to Dropsie College; although his finds did not come to the U.S. National Museum, the Smithsonian did acquire some fragments from the Cairo Genizah through a purchase by Charles Freer in 1908.[87]

The first major group of objects of Judaica acquired by the Smithsonian was that obtained specifically for the World’s Columbian Exposition. The majority of the Judaica objects for the Exposition were from sources in the United States. Though the collection was rather modest at the time, sufficient objects were assembled to illustrate the basic Jewish ceremonies, and the Judaica formed the greatest portion of the exhibit of religious ceremonials.[88]

There were several purchases from abroad, the most notable being a Torah ark curtain and a rabbi’s costume from Turkey. The Torah curtain was very much like one Adler had seen in a synagogue in the Galata district of Constantinople and which he had earlier described to his mother.[89] Though the ecclesiastical objects acquired by Goode in Italy were not displayed, several illuminated ketubbot (marriage contracts) that he had purchased in Rome were exhibited.[90]

In addition to acquisitions, there were also a number of loans made to the Smithsonian for exhibition at the World’s Columbian Exposition. Sabato Morais lent a havdalah set, used for the service at the close of the Sabbath, and Gotthard Deutsch, a professor at Hebrew Union College in Cincinnati, lent a manuscript.[91] The Hebrew Orphan Asylum in New York lent two Torah scrolls with “silk cloaks and silverplate.” Henry Cohen,[92] a rabbi from Galveston, Texas, lent several texts from the Jewish community in Bombay, India, written in the Marathi language, and an interesting program in Hebrew, English, and Marathi printed in honor of the Jubilee of Queen Victoria.[93]

FIGURE 15.—Religious ceremonials installation, World’s Columbian Exposition. (Smithsonian Institution Archives)

FIGURE 16.—H. Ephraim Benguiat. (Courtesy of The Jewish Museum, New York)

Hadji Ephraim Benguiat Collection

The most important and most substantial loan was the Hadji Ephraim Benguiat Collection. Ephraim Benguiat was born in Smyrna (Izmir), Turkey. He lived in Damascus and then moved to Gibraltar before emigrating to the United States. According to Benguiat, his family had long been in the business of selling antiquities, but, as Adler later explained in his autobiography, “they had made it a practice never to sell an object of Jewish art, with the result that they had brought together one of the most notable collections in the world.”[94]

Benguiat’s mission to collect Jewish ceremonial objects was explained by his son Mordecai in an article entitled “The Jewish Museum in America:”

The Jew could not preserve his treasures because he has always been longing to have a Country. He has been practically always with a traveling bag on his shoulders and without knowing where he would have to go the very next day. Therefore any antiquities saved from the repeated catastrophes and diaspora are of the greatest value, although they may not all possess the same merit or value as the antiques of other nations.[95]

Benguiat brought his collection to Boston in 1888, where it was exhibited at the Boston Museum of Fine Arts until 1892. Cyrus Adler approached Benguiat about purchasing the collection; when told it was not for sale, he requested that it be loaned to the National Museum for the World’s Columbian Exposition. As later described by his son, Mordecai Benguiat, Ephraim Benguiat made the decision after “due consultation with his dear friend, General Charles G. Loring, Director of the Museum [Boston Museum of Fine Arts].”[96]

Mordecai Benguiat expressed a certain irony about the collection being displayed at the exposition:

It may be mere coincidence but it is interesting to observe that for the additional education and delight of millions of visitors to a World’s Fair for the Celebration of the 400th anniversary of the discovery of this new world by Columbus and for the Inauguration of which the Duke of Veragua, a descendant of Columbus was invited as the guest of this Nation, one Spanish Jew, whose ancestors were expelled in 1492 from Spain should lend the Museum of the United States Government for Exhibition in the Government building at the Fair, a Collection of Jewish ceremonials including the original Inquisitors robes, all to help in the celebration of this free land discovered by Spain.[97]

Although there is no record of the “Inquisitors robes,” there is documentation of a loan of 44 objects from the Benguiat Collection for the exposition (catalog numbers 154580 through 154618, accessioned 31 October 1892,[98] and catalog numbers 154808 and 154809, accessioned 21 April 1893). The loan included several decorative items as well as ceremonial objects for the celebration of various holidays and life-cycle events in the synagogue and in the home.[99]

At the close of the exposition, Adler requested that the collection be sent to Washington as a loan exhibition. In the ensuing years, Benguiat continued to expand his loans to the museum. Adler and his associate Immanuel Casanowicz wrote a catalog of the Benguiat Collection, which was published in 1901.[100] This catalog does not reflect all the Benguiat objects at the National Museum, however, as additional loans were made as late as 1916.[101]

The elder Benguiat was quite a flamboyant personality. The epitaph prepared for his tombstone after his death, in 1918, gives some sense of his character:

Ephraim Benguiat on account of his business crossed seas, traveled through deserts and cities. He was revered by the Nobility of Nations, acquired fame among Royalty and Nobility, Remaining all the while to the last moment of his life, True to his God and Truthful to his Nation of Israel.[102]

It had been Adler’s hope to acquire the Benguiat Collection for the Smithsonian, but there were obstacles. In a letter in the archives dated 30 January 1913, Adler, who had been asked to consult on the issue, wrote:

I am very desirous of building up the Jewish Collection in the National Museum in every way and want to see it one of the great collections of the world. I had always hoped that the Benguiat collection would at sometime, with the possible exception of some heirlooms and after the various members of the family died, be for sale and then I would make a strong effort to have this collection purchased for the Museum. It probably is best however to keep our hands off this subject as the Benguiats are ... in litigation.[103]

The entire collection remained on “deposit” until 1924, but the Smithsonian never made any serious attempt to purchase it, although as late as 1921 interest was shown in its acquisition, as is evident in a letter from Charles D. Walcott, secretary of the Smithsonian, to A.S.W. Rosenbach, a book dealer who was president of the American Jewish Historical Society:

The Benguiat Collection of Jewish Antiquities is very highly prized by the National Museum experts, who tell me that it is of great interest both to students and the intelligent public. We should regret very much to have it taken away and hope that there will be some way found to preserve it intact and to have it retained in the National Museum Collection. It is part of the record of a wonderful race and deserves a place at the National Capital. If the Smithsonian Institute [sic] had funds it would very gladly purchase the Collection but unfortunately we do not have money available for the purpose.[104]

In fact, the Benguiats apparently wanted the collection to remain at the Smithsonian. On 5 July 1924 Mordecai Benguiat had a letter from Stephen S. Wise, a prominent New York rabbi and a leader in the Reform movement, who had received a communication from Rosenbach saying that Walcott had informed him that perhaps the collection would not be withdrawn.[105] However, all the objects were deaccessioned on 17 September 1924.

In 1924, the same year the collection was removed from the Smithsonian, Cyrus Adler became president of the Jewish Theological Seminary in New York. In 1925 philanthropist Felix Warburg made it possible for the seminary to acquire the Benguiat Collection, and in 1931 the objects became the centerpiece of the seminary’s new Jewish Museum.[106] For Adler, that was apparently sufficient. Ironically, some years later he wrote a letter to Paul Romanoff, a specialist in ancient coins who was responsible for the care of the collection, saying, “[There is] no real place at the Seminary for you,” adding that he “regarded the little Museum as a more or less fixed thing. I have no desire to build up a great Museum nor have we the means.”[107] Although it is possible that the visionary who pioneered the use of exhibitions of Judaica for education had a change of heart in his final years, it is more likely that the financial constraints brought about by the Great Depression of the 1930s shaped his response.

Museums as Vehicles to Teach Religion

Cyrus Adler was proud of his achievements in establishing an exhibition on religious ceremonials at the Smithsonian, and he was afforded the opportunity to present his accomplishments in a paper delivered at the International Congress of Anthropology in Chicago in 1893, entitled “Museum Collections to Illustrate Religious History and Ceremonials.” Adler discussed his approach to the role of museums in both research by scholars and education of the general public, and he made the case for the effectiveness of museums in teaching religion. In addition to Adler’s paper, which was presented as part of the session on ethnology, Morris Jastrow presented a paper entitled “The Historical Study of Religions: Its Method and Scope” at the session on religion.[108]

Adler’s paper demonstrated the feasibility of employing scientific methods in the study of religion and its application in museums. The following are the main points of his paper:

Museum collections perform a double function. They instruct the public and they furnish material for the investigator. ...

The study of religious history and ceremonial institutions stands on a footing different from that of any other branch of knowledge. ...

An emotion even stronger (than patriotism) is religion; its influence is second only to that of domestic affection, and sometimes overcomes it; its lessons are the earliest instilled into the mind; none escapes its influence. ...

It is obvious, therefore, that if the public is to be taught the history of religion or religious ceremonies, it will be most advisable to approximate the methods of those branches of study in which the knowledge is acquired for its own sake, without thought of professional use or partisan advantage, simply for the enlargement of the mental horizon of the individual and the increased mental power thereby attained.

Modem investigation and modem teaching are based upon phenomena. Science deals with objects and phenomena; it collects them, describes them, and classifies them. ...

This tendency of investigation to deal with phenomena has reacted upon all forms and grades of instruction, the higher as well as the popular. It has given the impulse to and shaped the growth of the highest modem method of popular instruction, “the most powerful and useful of all systems of teaching by object lessons”—the educational museum.

Religious history and ceremonial have been the very last to profit by the awakened impulse acquired through the museum and the general exhibition.[109]

The paper Adler read at the International Congress of Anthropology presented a formal outline of the goals of the exhibition of comparative religion at the World’s Columbian Exposition. Adler discussed the exposition within the context of a number of museums and exhibitions of religion and analyzed their systems of presentation. Adler used the operative definition: “Religion consists in what men believe concerning the supernatural, and what they do in consequence of that belief, in creed and cult.”[110] He noted that because “cult” readily lends itself to museum exhibition, that would be taken up first, but he indicated that there were “devices” by which “creed” could be shown. Included is a description of the development of the Section of Comparative Religion. Adler explained that the Smithsonian’s installation at the exposition was, in fact, a “type exhibit” for the department.[111]

As cited in Adler’s paper and repeated in a later publication describing the collection, there was a decision to focus on Western civilization in the organization of the section, beginning with Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. This focus was reflected in the structure of the exhibition as well.[112]

It was further decided to limit the religions shown to a selection of the nations inhabiting the Mediterranean basin. This selection had a conscious significance. ... The Mediterranean basin has been the seat of the civilizations of the modem western world. The art, philosophy, and religion of Europe and America arose among the ancients of that legion, and the highest ideals even of the modems are still to be found in the works of art of those ancient peoples. ... In an attempt therefore, to introduce the study of religions into universities, or to create departments of religious ceremonial in museums, it behooves us for the nonce to put aside the American Indian, and the Central African, and to begin at least with those religions whose history has an interest for all men of our day, the knowledge of which should really become a part of general culture.[113]

Included in the exhibition were Assyro-Babylonian religion, Judaism, Oriental Christianity, Islam, and Greek and Roman religion. In the published version of the paper, Adler attached a detailed account of the exhibition that appeared in the New York Evening Post on 9 September 1894 (reprinted in Appendix IV herein).

Furthermore, Adler stressed the significance of the Section of Comparative Religion at the National Museum by noting that the World’s Fair exhibits were to be installed in Washington after the close of the exposition:

It is expected that in the coming year a collection of religious history and ceremonial institutions will be installed in the National Museum. ... So fully is the importance of this subject recognized that, in spite of the great pressure for floor space at the Museum, adequate room will be provided, although it will require the retiring of some interesting collections.[114]

Most important, this presentation at a prominent scholarly forum represented the true realization of Adler’s goals for establishing a department of comparative religion at America’s quintessential secular institution, the U.S. National Museum, with Judaism as a major component.

The World’s Parliament of Religion

Religion came to the fore at the World’s Columbian Exposition with the 17-day World’s Parliament of Religions. The World Congresses of 1893, ancillary events held in conjunction with the fair, provided a forum for debating important political and philosophical issues of the day, and the World’s Parliament was called the “crowning event” of the congresses. As expressed in an editorial in Menorah Monthly:

And if the purpose of the Auxiliary Congress is not expressed in so many words to be to bring the ideal aspiration of humanity to the surface, it is implied by the very fact of its calling. To our mind this Auxiliary Congress is even of greater bearing upon the progress achieved, and more significant of the position taken by this country in the competition for superiority, than all the precious exhibits which fill the stately palaces of the World’s Fair. This Auxiliary Congress ... takes within its range all the moral, educational, scientific, literary and artistic labors that have occupied the human mind since the dawning of man’s working spirit. But of all these none is so far-reaching and should be as beneficent in its effects as the Congress of Religions.[115]

The parliament opened on 11 September 1893, and during the next few weeks over 150,000 people attended the sessions.[116] The underlying theme of the World’s Parliament of Religions was very much in consonance with the message George Brown Goode had articulated, for beyond demonstrating the “religious harmonies and unities of humanity” the purpose was to show that “moral and spiritual agencies are at the root of human progress.”[117]

Never before have religious teachers from all lands, representing all prominent faiths, met on one common platform and with absolute freedom and perfect courtesy presented their varied and often contradictory tenets. ... On that platform sat men of all colors, of all races, from all quarters of the globe, and of all the faiths that during the ages have dominated the destinies of the human family. There were Christians—Protestant and Catholic, Roman and Greek Jews and Mohammedans; Parsees, Brahmans, and Buddhists; followers of Confucious, and worshippers of ancestors. ... Here gathered they found their hands clasped in one unbroken circle as their upward gaze centered on one loving Father.[118]

There were, as could be expected, some dissenters.[119] Most prominent among those who did not support the Parliament were the Sultan of Turkey and the Archbishop of Canterbury. Nonetheless, for the most part the parliament’s organizers managed to accomplish quite an extraordinary feat.

The Jewish “church” was represented on the planning committee by Rabbi Emil G. Hirsch. There were nine speakers who presented papers on Jewish topics: for example, Isaac Mayer Wise spoke about “The Theology of Judaism,” and Henrietta Szold discussed “What Judaism Has Done for Women.”[120] Other presentations by Jewish notables focused on ecumenical issues. Alexander Kohut’s topic was “What the Hebrew Scriptures Have Wrought for Mankind,”[121] and Kaufmann Kohler’s message was “Human Brotherhood as Taught by the Religions Based on the Bible.”[122]

In the spirit of understanding, there was also a landmark statement made by the Archbishop of Zante, Greece, who spoke out against a series of recent accusations against Jews. He was referring to the spate of accusations in Corfu, as well as in several European countries, that Jews killed Christian children for use in Passover rites.[123] The “protest against a prevalent calumny” was read on his behalf at a session chaired by Emil Hirsch. The archbishop’s message was strong and direct:

In the East the belief is current among the ignorant masses of the population that the Jews use for purposes of religious rites the blood of Christian children, and in order to procure such blood do not shrink from committing murder. In consequence of this belief, outbreaks against the Jews are frequent, and innocent victims are subjected to many indignities and exposed to great danger. In view of the fact that such erroneous ideas are also current among the ignorant of other countries, and that during the last decade both Germany and Austria were the scenes of trials of innocent Jews under the accusation of having committed such ritual murder, I, as a Christian minister, ask this Congress to record our conviction that Judaism forbids murder of any kind, and that none of its sacred authorities and books command or permit murder, or the use of human blood for ritual practices or religious ceremonies. The circulation of such slander against the adherents of a monotheistic faith is un-Christian.[124]

Interestingly, however, no discussion followed, and once the Archbishop’s highly charged statement was delivered, the session just moved on to the next paper “International Obligations to China.”

In addition to Jewish participation in the World’s Parliament of Religions, there was also a Jewish Congress[125] and a Jewish Women’s Congress.[126] Although there appears to have been no relationship between the exhibition developed by Cyrus Adler and the World’s Parliament of Religions, he was the author of an introduction to Songs of Zion, a collection of synagogue melodies that was produced as a souvenir of the Jewish Women’s Congress.[127] Although Adler was not on the program, the topic of comparative religion was. Rabbi Louis Grossmann of Detroit presented a paper entitled “Judaism and the Science of Comparative Religions” at the session on 29 August 1893.[128] In his paper for the International Congress of Anthropology, Adler expressed the opinion that the Parliament was being conducted on “church lines” and would therefore have a “propagandistic or philanthropic point of view,” yet was of interest in that it “enables the presentation of many creeds by their own professors.”[129]

Whereas there may not have been much audience participation in the larger forum, in her introduction to the published papers of the Jewish Women’s Congress, Hannah G. Solomon,[130] who chaired that congress, indicated that there was much discussion by the overflow crowd.[131] In her account of the sessions she wrote, “The question of religious persecution was thoroughly discussed, in the manner and spirit hoped for by the Committee.” What was particularly noteworthy was that “Jews, Catholics and Protestants were animated by the same desire to battle in the cause of liberty of conscience.”[132]

In his comments on the Jewish Congress, the Reverend Dr. Joseph Silverman was even more direct in seeing the congress as a victory for the “scientific study of Judaism” against anti-Semitism by counteracting age-old stereotypes. In this international forum Jews and Judaism were presented on an equal par with all other Americans of every creed. While the congress was still in the planning stage, Silverman wrote:

For ages Judaism has been misrepresented to the world in every direction. Jewish history and literature have been distorted—calumnies have been circulated about Israel and Judaism with impunity. Jewish doctrines have been perverted into monstrous absurdities. ...The want has for a long time been fell of some tribunal from which to speak to the world on behalf of Judaism.

At last has come an opportunity for Israel to speak to the world. The kings and princes of Europe will be forced to hear—to read. ... The proceedings of that Parliament of Religions will be printed and preserved in the archives of nations and churches, in public and private libraries for ages to come. The Religious Parliament will be a fact; its results will be facts which will forever stand as a Gibraltar, proof against all the whirling billows of fanaticism and bigotry.[133]

7. The Section of Religious Ceremonials

After the World’s Columbian Exposition, an exhibition on religious ceremonials was installed at the Smithsonian. The very detailed curatorial reports for the next twelve years indicate that the Section of Religious Ceremonials was quite active and that there were many acquisitions. As Adler would write in the 1908 catalog of the collection, he felt he had successfully met his intended goal of applying to the field of religion the standards of academic research that the Smithsonian had implemented in other areas. The philosophy of the department represented what was characterized in that report as a departure from the conventional approach to the study of religion:

At that time the tendency in museums abroad, and to a certain extent among the students of the history of religions generally, was to deal only with the religious practices and ideas of the semi-civilized or barbarous nations, and to treat but sparingly those of the more civilized and cultivated nations of the earth. It was determined, in taking up the subject here, to adopt a course contrary to that hitherto followed, and to endeavor, from the educational point of view to interest the people in the history of religion by leading them to the unknown, as it were, in terms of the known. Accordingly the first three religions to which attention was given were Judaism, Christianity, and Mohammedanism, in the order of their respective establishments. ...

Other religions were later illustrated, especially Brahmanism and Buddhism. ...[In lime] the interest of the public was plainly evinced in this section of its work, and gifts and deposits of value were added, representing Ancient Egypt, Shintoism, the Parsee religion, and other of the great cults.[1]

Adler’s Theoretical Model for Acquisitions

Adler also wrote of a “scientific method” for what was to be included in a collection relating to religious ceremonials. However, his description was more a theoretical ideal than a methodological reality. As he explained it, a model classification scheme had been used in making acquisitions:

In dealing with this difficult subject a rigorous historical and scientific method has been followed. The religious ideas have been described through objects or examples of ceremony. The professors of each creed have received full faith and their own explanations of the ideas involved in a given ceremony have been adopted. ...

The subject of religious belief and cults is susceptible of arrangement under certain well-recognized heads: Public worship, its furniture and appointments; the sacerdotal person, his costume and implements; sacred writings the altar or its equivalent; public religious ceremonies on special occasions, etc. Another, and indeed larger, class of objects have to do with the relation of the individual to cult in such matters as marriage, birth, and in some cases betrothal, and the secret and mystical religious practices, among which charms and divinations would fall. This general plan, with modifications, of course, is susceptible of application to all of the historic religions.[2]

In fact, the actual acquisitions of Judaica Adler had made for the Section of Religious Ceremonials were not undertaken according to any discernible plan. What emerges from an investigation of the acquisition records is that there was no systematic program to identify and acquire artifacts. The records suggest that Adler, like all curators, experienced constraints that forced him to collect what he could: family heirlooms, single objects from interested individuals, and items purchased with what funds the Smithsonian budget allowed. The situation with the Judaica collection was not unique; rather, it reflected the often opportunistic nature of the acquisitions process at the Smithsonian at the time. When Goode began his serious efforts to collect historical materials, and to document natural history and ethnology as well, the earliest collections were “miscellaneous,” because they contained primarily donations.[3] An example was Goode’s purchase from George Kunz of the 350 Russian items that had been exhibited at the World’s Columbian Exposition. The purchase was a fortuitous acquisition, the result of happenstance rather than the result of researched effort.[4]

It becomes clear, however, that Adler believed that he was applying objective, scientific principles in terms of a nonsectarian, nontheological perspective on the materials and, most important, that he was presenting the distinctive viewpoint of the specific religion. This is the most critical factor, for what he had sought from the outset in collecting Judaica was to provide “authentic” descriptions. What he defined as authentic was the testimony of people who represented a specific religion, not “observers” such as anthropologists who studied “barbarous” nations, but people who were the “professors of each creed.” This cultural model would alleviate stereotypes; what he sought to do for Judaism he sought to do for other religions as well. Moreover, it is significant that Adler did follow accepted scientific principles in organizing exhibitions, giving ideas priority, using objects to illustrate those concepts, identifying the history of the object and its intended use, and using a formal classification system to arrange and label the artifacts.[5]

Immanuel Casanowicz

In Immanuel Casanowicz, Adler had a most able colleague assisting him. Casanowicz joined the Smithsonian’s Division of Oriental Studies in November 1892 to work on the World’s Columbian Exhibition and remained a member of the curatorial staff for 35 years, until his death.[6]

Immanuel Moses Casanowicz (1853–1927) was born Zhaludok, Russia, of Jewish parents. A convert to Christianity, he attended the Evangelische Predigerschule in Basel, Switzerland, where he later became a teacher.[7] Casanowicz immigrated to the United States in 1882. Beginning in 1886 he studied at Johns Hopkins, receiving his Ph.D. in 1892.[8] During his long tenure at the Smithsonian, Casanowicz was devoted to the care of objects of the world’s religions and was the individual responsible for the cataloging of the Judaica collection.[9]

FIGURE 17.—Immanuel Casanowicz. (United States National Museum Bulletin, number 148 (1929))

A Formal Department Is Established

There were now two distinct sections. The Section of Religious Ceremonial Objects was formally established in 1893. It became the Section of Historic Religions in 1897 and the Division of Historic Religions in 1903–1904. Cyrus Adler was the custodian of the section until 1903–1904, when he became an honorary curator.

The original Section of Oriental Antiquities retained the same name until 1897, when it was made the Division of in Historic Archaeology. Dr. Paul Haupt continued as honorary curator until 1905, when he was made an associate in historic archaeology. Cyrus Adler succeeded Haupt as honorary curator. When Adler left the Smithsonian, he also was named an associate. Immanuel Casanowicz was officially designated an aide in 1896 and became assistant curator in 1905.[10] In 1906 Casanowicz was appointed assistant curator of Old World archaeology.

The two sections, later divisions, were clearly still closely related, as indicated by an article written by Casanowicz in 1902 entitled “The Collection of Oriental Antiquities at the United States National Museum.”[11] At that time, the exhibition on religious ceremonials still did not include Christianity, although Casanowicz’s article noted that the Smithsonian expected a special alcove would be designated for that collection. There are occasional references in the curatorial reports to these exhibitions as being about comparative religion, and Adler’s plan as articulated in his article “Museum Collections to Illustrate Religious History and Ceremonials” described “certain groups of ceremonies [being] taken up in the hope that a comparison of the underlying ideas may form a fruitful subject of study.”[12] However, there was no real attempt to “compare” except that implied by the placement of the objects, which reflected the development of the religions (for example, Buddhism was placed after “Brahmanism” (Hinduism), because it was considered its “offspring”).[13]

Judaica Acquisitions

Because Ephraim Benguiat continued to add to his collection, which was on loan to the United States National Museum, Adler apparently felt that the Benguiat Collection was an adequate representation of Judaica, and no other acquisitions were sought for almost a decade. The curator’s report for 1899–1900, in which period only 12 items were received from Benguiat, gives an indication of that attitude:

The accessions though small in number are all of much interest and value partly on account of their artistic and historic importance, and partly because they fill out important gaps in the Section of Jewish Religious Ceremonials which is already one of the most complete and valuable in existence, and which is made much use of by persons interested in the study of the Bible.[14]

In 1902 a group of objects was purchased from Ephraim Deinard. These too were seen as filling gaps, as was reported in an article on the acquisitions written by Casanowicz and published in Jewish Comment.[15]

Science Encounters the Wunderkammer

Though Adler and Casanowicz were proud that theirs was an age driven by the goals of scientific inquiry, there was also an element of romanticism and naïveté in the acquisitions that reflects a much older tradition of museum collection and classification with roots in the Wunderkammer (cabinets of curiosities) of Renaissance Europe. Thus the Judaica collection would eventually include not only important examples of Jewish ceremonial art and ethnographic objects but also “curiosities” of various types. For example, items later acquired from Ephraim Deinard’s collection included whale bones (NMNH 333988), presumably thought to be those of the whale that swallowed Jonah, as well as an incense burner (NMNH 315227) and vase (NMNH 315228) alleged to have been from the temple built by King Solomon in Jerusalem (but probably Byzantine in origin—a difference of some fifteen centuries).[16]

Another unusual acquisition was a “San Benito,” a cap that a person sentenced by the Spanish Inquisition in the fifteenth century was required to wear.[17] Unfortunately, the cap is no longer in the possession of the museum. In a memorandum to the file, Cyrus Adler wrote:

This article, a cap, is known as a San Benito. Doctor [Harry] Friedenwald writes me in a personal letter that the following note was attached to the article written by his father. Doctor Aaron Friedenwald. “The cap is stated to have been the cap worn at prayers by one Lyons, who was burned at the stake. It belonged to the Lyons family, Columbus” (probably Columbia, South Carolina). It was presented to Doctor Aaron Friedenwald by a member of the Mordecai family “whose brother married a Levy whose mother was a Lyons.”

There is probably an error in the first note. This was not a cap worn at prayers, as is stated, but a cap which some person was required to wear by the Inquisition, who had been sentenced to be burned at the stake or some other punishment. It is a very rare specimen, the first of its kind I have ever seen or heard of.

Such “hopeful” items—objects alleged to be of historical interest—were characteristic of the era and were not limited to Judaica acquisitions. For example, reliquaries with supposed fragments of the “True Cross” were acquired to represent the Christian faith, and a front-page article by Thomas R. Henry regarding the “fragments of the True Cross” appeared in the Washington Sunday Star on 19 January 1930, at the time of the posthumous publication of Immanuel Casanowicz’s manuscript on what Henry called the “historic cults” of the world, which was actually the catalog “Collections of Objects of Religious Ceremonial in the United States National Museum,” the last catalog published on the Smithsonian’s collections of ritual artifacts.[18]

Expositions

The success of the World’s Columbian Exposition encouraged the United States National Museum to participate in other fairs. In 1895 a major exhibition was developed by the museum for the Cotton States International Exhibition in Atlanta. The general goals of the National Museum’s exhibition were quite ambitious. They were (1) to give as good an idea as possible of the character of the treasures that are preserved in the Museum by presenting an epitome of its contents with contributions from every department; (2) to illustrate the methods by which science controls, classifies and studies great accumulations of material objects, and uses these as a means for the discovery of truth; (3) to exhibit the manner in which collections are arranged, labeled and displayed in a great museum; and (4) to afford as much instruction and pleasure as possible to those who visited the Atlanta Exposition, to impress them with the value of museums as agencies for public enlightenment, and thus to encourage the formation of public museums in the South.[19] An enormous exhibition called “Biblical Antiquities” was organized for this exposition. The introduction to the catalog gives an explanation of the title of the exhibition:

The Section of Oriental Antiquities in the U.S. National Museum was established in 1887 and in 1889 there was added to the Museum a Section of Religious Ceremonial Institutions. Although not at all identical in scope, it was found best for practical reasons that the exhibit of these two sections in the Atlanta Exposition should be united in the form of a collection which for want of a better name may be called Biblical Antiquities.[20]

The introduction continues with the rationale for the publication of the catalog, explaining Adler’s philosophy of the importance of the lessons of the Bible. It was hoped that the catalog would

be of service to teachers and students, and may possibly furnish a suggestion to those who are interested in the establishment of small collections which touch the interests of so many persons, who, without being special students and investigators, are yet deeply concerned in anything that relates to the archaeology and history, the ethnology, and the art of that portion of the eastern world around the Mediterranean, to which the culture and civilization of later Europe and even of modern America can in a great degree be traced.”[21]

The Atlanta exhibition included hundreds of objects in the following categories: “The Land of the Bible”; geology; flora and fauna; Palestinian antiquities; musical instruments; “Precious Stones of the Bible”; “Coins of the Bible”; dress, ornament, and household utensils; antiquities of the Egyptians, Assyrians, Babylonians, and Hittites; and a collection of Bibles. In addition, all of the 230 objects of Jewish religious ceremonial in the museum’s collection were lent for the exhibition.[22] Although the exhibition underscores the continuity of Jewish ritual practice since biblical times, the early Christian era was represented only by Roman coins and later Christianity only by Bibles.

In 1897 a much smaller exhibition was organized for the Tennessee Centennial Exposition. This exhibition was rather eclectic, consisting of “objects intended to illustrate Brahmanism and Buddhism, the principal religions of eastern Asia, Mohammedanism, the literary history of the Bible, and the religious ceremonials of the Jews.”[23] In this catalog the relationship between Jewish religious ceremonials and the Bible is clearly explained, with the ceremonial items described as “modem objects used by the Jews in their religious rites, which have their origin in and are based on Biblical ordinances.”[24]

Adler Leaves the Smithsonian

Cyrus Adler’s departure from the Smithsonian, in 1908, truly marked the end of an era. He had indeed succeeded in making the study of Judaism an accepted scientific discipline at the National Museum. His last contribution while still officially a staff member was to publish another catalog, this one listing all of the objects in the collection.[25] The vast majority of the objects were from the Benguiat Collection, which, because officially still a loan, could be removed from the museum at any time. It is highly doubtful that Adler left the Smithsonian thinking that another collection could possibly become the core of the Smithsonian Judaica.

FIGURE 18.—Tennessee Centennial Exposition, exhibition of Judaica. (Smithsonian Institution Archives)

FIGURE 19.—Tennessee Centennial Exposition, exhibition on Buddhism. (Smithsonian Institution Archives)

FIGURE 20.—Plate 3 from Immanuel M. Casanowicz, “Collections of Objects of Religious Ceremonial in the U.S. National Museum,” United States National Museum Bulletin, number 148 (1929). This photograph first appeared in Cyrus Adler and Immanuel M. Casanowicz, “The Collection of Jewish Ceremonial Objects in the United States National Museum,” Proceedings of the United States National Museum, volume 34, number 1630 (1908).

After Adler left, the Division of Historic Religions was merged with the Division of Historic Archaeology, becoming the Division of Old World Archaeology. Casanowicz remained at the level of assistant curator but was now responsible for the combined collections. When he died, in 1927, the division was placed under the general supervision of Neil M. Judd, the curator of American archaeology, and Henry B. Roberts became the temporary archaeological assistant working on Old World archaeology. However, once Casanowicz died, this division effectively ceased to exist as a functioning entity, with no staff, no acquisitions, no publications, and no changes in the exhibitions that were already in place.[26]

8. The Ephraim Deinard Collection: A New Factor

Whereas Cyrus Adler was largely responsible for the conceptualization and early development of the Smithsonian’s Judaica collection, the vast majority of the current collection of objects, nearly two-thirds, are from a collection formed by Ephraim Deinard between the turn of the century and World War I.[1] By trade, the intrepid Deinard was a book dealer, but he was more than that. He too, like Adler, with whom he sometimes came into conflict, was a man driven by a personal mission: the advancement of Jewish scholarship. Like others of his generation, he aspired and labored arduously to further jüdische Wissenschaft; in Deinard’s case, “Jewish science” meant one consuming passion—bibliography.[2]

Deinard definitely was a difficult and irascible personality and adhered only to his own personal code of ethics and conduct. Though Deinard’s methods of collecting were aggressive and did not always accord with standard practice, his ultimate contribution to the development of Jewish libraries is immeasurable. Alexander Marx, the eminent librarian of the Jewish Theological Seminary, wrote in a tribute some years after Deinard’s death:

Deinard was a curious personality. A great lover of books, he traveled all over the world, particularly in the Near East, in search of rarities. How he managed to obtain these unique volumes, I do not know, but undoubtedly a considerable number would have perished in the disorders of the last decade if Deinard had not found them a resting place in the great Jewish and general libraries both here and abroad.[3]

Deinard was born in Shossmaken, Latvia, in 1846 and had a traditional upbringing. Most of his learning was acquired autodidactically. In 1866 he married Margolia Jaffee, a descendant of a long line of Hebrew scholars; her patience with her husband’s exploits has been ascribed to this background.[4] Deinard was a prodigious and prolific author; even as a young man, he wrote articles for Hebrew journals. The dauntless Deinard also began traveling in his quest to find rare Jewish books and manuscripts. In 1872 Deinard traveled through Volhynia and Podolia (a region of the Ukraine, annexed by Russia in the second partition of Poland in 1793) looking for materials of ethnographic interest.[5]

Deinard was the author of more than 50 works. His first publication, a booklet of some 31 pages printed in Warsaw in 1875, was Toledot Ibn Reshef, a biography of the Karaite leader Abraham Firkovitch (1786–1874).[6] Deinard had worked for a period as secretary to Firkovitch. From the time of this earliest work, Deinard did not hesitate to exercise his strong-willed and controversial personality through the use of a polemical pen. Deinard accused Firkovitch, who claimed that the Karaites had entered the Crimea from Byzantium and converted the Khazars to Judaism, of forging many of the manuscripts and artifacts he collected in order to show the antiquity of the Karaites in that region and of utilizing pressure tactics in making his acquisitions.

Another early work, Sefer Masa’ Krim, published in 1878 in Warsaw, exemplifies an important facet of Deinard’s documentation efforts. In Sefer Masa′ Krim he recorded a history of the Jews in the Crimea, with reference to the Khazars, the Karaites, and the Krimchaki.[7] Deinard hoped that by writing about little-known Jewish communities and forming collections of books and manuscripts concerning those groups, he could help further the study of those peoples, learning about their history and the various ways in which Judaism developed in different places. A subscription book for Sefer Masa′ Krim was among the personal papers Deinard “inadvertently” left at the Smithsonian.[8] The subscription book, which has more than 160 pages, is a compilation of handwritten comments by the persons solicited by Deinard to purchase the work; clearly he was an early master of marketing. In it are book orders and testimonials from prominent Russian, Crimean, and Polish personalities, as well as a few from Germany and France. These are written in Hebrew, Russian, Polish, German, and English. Some of the tributes were printed as front matter in the published version of the book. A complete register of the subscribers, listed by city, is given as well, a true indicator of the extent of his constant travel.

Among the statements reprinted by Deinard is the assessment of Dr. Hermann L. Strack, who makes reference to Deinard’s work as Wissenschaft. Dr. Strack was a German Protestant theologian and Orientalist who taught Old Testament exegesis and Semitic languages at the University of Berlin. Because he was considered to be the foremost Christian authority in Germany on Talmudic and rabbinic literature, his comments would certainly have been of great import to Deinard.[9]

In 1882 Deinard traveled to Eretz Yisrael for the first time, with every intention of settling there.[10] However, his wish was not to be fulfilled, and Deinard returned to Russia. Deinard published an account of his trip to the Near East in Masa′ Be-Erets Ha-Kedem in Pressburg in 1883. An essay on Jewish colonization in Palestine is included in a volume that Deinard published in 1885 in Pressburg on the status of Jews in European countries, Masa′ Be-Airopa.[11]

Deinard ultimately returned to Odessa, where he had established a bookstore in 1880. He made a distinction between booksellers, mokhré sefarim, and book dealers, sohré sefarim. Deinard considered himself to be among the second group, who purchased books as well as sold them.[12] He prided himself that many of the major European libraries purchased books from him. The Deinard home also became a salon for many of the leading scholars of the day.

FIGURE 21.—Ephraim Deinard, from Shibolim Bodedot, 1915. (Courtesy of Hebrew Union College, Francis-Henry Library)

In 1888 Deinard immigrated to the United States, bringing with him a large collection of books and manuscripts. Energetic as always, Deinard immediately began to establish himself as part of the literary community. Deinard lived briefly in New York and then in Newark for a couple of years, finally settling in Arlington, New Jersey, where he even set up a printing press in his home. Deinard began his own publishing endeavors in the United States with Ha-Leummi, a Hebrew weekly of which 23 issues appeared in 1888 and 1889.

Ephraim Deinard, Activist

Deinard was actively involved in a variety of Jewish causes. Among Deinard’s personal papers and correspondence left at the Smithsonian are documents that reflect some of his involvements.[13] Deinard was a Zionist and president of the Zionistic Author’s Society.[14] He worked on behalf of emigration of Jews from Russia to Palestine. A letter from Theodor Herzl written on 8 March 1898 expresses thanks to Deinard for sending “brochures,” most likely copies of Ha-Leummi, and adds his hope that the American Zionist Conference will “be a successful rally and thereby a meaningful addition and conclusion of the Basel Congress.” Max Nordau, physicist, journalist, and cofounder of the World Zionist Organization, wrote from Paris in February 1898 expressing his admiration for Deinard’s enthusiastic and energetic efforts and his surprise that Hebrew literature was cultivated to such an extent in America.

In 1902 Deinard tried to enlist Mayer Sulzberger’s aid in order to have the Zionist Congress meet in the United States in 1903.[15] Deinard, as might be expected, had his own views of Zionism, but basically he was a Herzlian Zionist, believing that only political endeavors and diplomacy would bring about a separate Jewish state.[16] After Herzl’s death, Deinard’s activities focused more on those individuals who were not only politically oriented Zionists but religiously committed ones as well. Among the documents housed in the NMNH Department of Anthropology collections is a broadsheet announcing a memorial service for Herzl, to be held on the first anniversary of his death, and at which Deinard was to be a featured speaker.[17] Deinard did later purchase a home in Ramleh and called it Gan Ephraim (“Garden of Ephraim”), where he lived from 1913 to 1916, when he was expelled by the Turks.

Deinard also worked to resettle Jewish farmers from Russia on agricultural sites in the western United States. Deinard himself traveled to Nevada and then to California to assist the group. Included in the Smithsonian deposit are several letters Deinard wrote in 1897, as president of the Hebrew Agricultural Society, to officials in Nevada, Arizona, Oregon, and California and to representatives of the U.S. Indian Service inquiring about land on the Siletz Indian Reservation. There is also a letter of introduction for Deinard to Governor James Dudd of California from Adolph Sutro. Sutro (1830–1898), who was then mayor of San Francisco, was also a great collector of books, hence the relationship with Deinard. Among Sutro’s holdings was a sizable library of Hebrew books and manuscripts. Deinard prepared a catalog of Sutro’s collection, though it was never published because Sutro passed away in 1898.[18]

There were positive responses to Deinard’s letters about the resettlement effort. For example, a letter from William Lord, governor of Oregon, dated 4 August 1897, is most encouraging: “There is plenty of good land in Oregon for experienced farmers, and welcome for the honest and industrious.”

Yet on 15 September 1897 Deinard wrote a very bitter letter to Patrick W. Riordan, archbishop of San Francisco, deploring how the Jewish community had forsaken their coreligionists and pleading for Riordan’s help. The letter is a sad commentary on Deinard’s willingness to take any steps he deemed necessary to achieve a cause he championed.

FIGURE 22.—Leaf from Sefer Mitzvot Ha-Gadol, by Moses ben Jacob of Coucy, thirteenth or fourteenth century; NMAH 315394A.78. (Negative number 92–13045)

A remnant of the Jewish people, persecuted and driven from the land of their birth, implore you to listen to their petition ... and we prostrate ourselves before your Grace and ask in the name of Him who loved the poor, the sad and the sorrow-laden, to grant us your protection, to alleviate our distress, and to see that our burden of sorrow be lightened.[19]

That Deinard should write in this way is bizarre, especially given the history of his antagonism to Christianity, particularly as reflected in Tselem Ba-Hekhal, a vitriolic work of his later years that criticizes the literary critic and historian Joseph Klausner as well as the prominent rabbi Stephen S. Wise for pro-Jesus sentiments.[20]

In addition, Deinard’s papers at the Smithsonian include letters from various personalities, including important leaders of the Anglo-Jewish community, such as Sir Moses Montefiore, and the French lawyer and statesman Adolph Crémieux, who wrote a letter of introduction for Deinard on 24 June 1878 praising his character and his scientific and literary work.[21]

Deinard’s Typical “Miscellany”

A few stray manuscript leaves also are found in this group of documents, including one page from a thirteenth-century copy of the Mishne Torah by Maimonides and a Samaritan manuscript leaf of Leviticus 24.

It was apparently not unusual for Deinard to take apart a manuscript, sometimes sending sections to two different buyers. In this way he could inflate the price. Because Deinard did engage in this practice, there are items in the Smithsonian’s collection that have counterparts in other collections, including Damascus marriage contracts, memorial plaques from Italy, and decorative sukkah panels from Italy.[22]

An indication that this was not unusual is apparent from a letter of explanation that Deinard sent to Alexander Marx:

You are correct, my friend, for there have remained with me a few leaves of the printed material as well as of the manuscripts. The great cold in my storeroom prevented me from lingering there long and gathering all of them. In any event, you have not told me if you will accept them or not. Therefore, I thought that if you will notify me that you are buying them, then I will collect them all. None shall remain with me except two or three pages of which I decided to make facsimiles and include them in my book Atikot Yehuda, which I have sent to be published in Jerusalem. After I finish with this, I will turn them over to you ... you will be missing nothing.[23]

Deinard, Pioneer on Behalf of Jewish Libraries in America

Deinard was a fervent advocate of Wissenschaft des Judentums. His personal mission was to advance Jewish scholarship by developing collections for libraries. Although his methods were unorthodox, Deinard brought a vast quantity of books to America and worked very hard to find donors to present them to various libraries, and so he made a tremendous contribution to Jewish learning. He was a pioneer in assembling collections of books and manuscripts that would prove to be indispensable resources for future generations of scholars in the United States. As he would describe it later, Deinard’s very clear goal was

to establish libraries in all the leading cities of our land. It is my hope that in the course of time I shall succeed in disseminating Jewish literature in this barren country. ... If a Jewish scholar needs an ancient text, he must go to Europe, to the British Museum or the Bodleian Library in Oxford.[24]

Indeed, as soon as he arrived in America, Deinard began looking for donors who would sponsor the acquisition of books for major libraries. The first person to respond was the diplomat Oscar Straus, whom Deinard solicited through Richard J.H. Gottheil, professor of rabbinical literature and Semitic languages at Columbia University. In 1888 Straus purchased 133 manuscripts for Columbia.[25]

In time, Deinard’s efforts resulted in the formation of major holdings at numerous institutions, including those at the University of California at Berkeley, supported by Dr. Jacob Voorsanger, rabbi of Temple Emanu-el in San Francisco; those of the New York Public Library, given by Jacob Schiff; and those of the Jewish Theological Seminary in New York, funded by Mayer Sulzberger.

In 1904, when Sulzberger presented the Library of the Jewish Theological Seminary with some 7,500 books and 750 manuscripts, he echoed the goal of Wissenschaft des Judentums in his message to the board of directors: “My hope is that the Seminary may become the center for original work in the science of Judaism, to which end the collection of a great library is indispensable.”[26] Sulzberger also donated 25 objects to the library at that time and noted his hope that these would serve “as a suggestion for the establishment of a Jewish museum in connection with the library.”[27] It is possible that a number of these objects were obtained from Deinard.[28]

Deinard’s private library was purchased by Harvard University through the generosity of Lucius N. Littauer, industrialist and member of Congress, just months before Deinard died. The soher sefarim had indeed saved many of the greatest treasures for his personal library. For Deinard, the sale of this collection meant the fulfillment of an endeavor he had begun in 1895, when he first offered books to Harvard. There are two letters from 1895 in the Deinard accession file from David Gordon Lyon, the Hancock Professor of Hebrew and other Oriental languages and the first director of the Semitic Museum at Harvard, expressing regret that the university was unable to make the acquisition. In January 1895 Lyon wrote:

Your collection, if we could own it, would be of great interest and value in enriching the Jewish branch of our library and would in every way strengthen the Semitic Department of the University.

It has long been our hope to have a professor for the Talmud and related subjects, but here too the money is wanting. The purchase or acquisition of such books as you offer would doubtless do something to hasten the appointment of such a professor.[29]

The Library of Congress Hebraica Collection

One of Deinard’s most important collections, numbering some 10,000 volumes, was acquired in 1912 for the Library of Congress through the munificence of Jacob Schiff. The history of this acquisition relates directly to Cyrus Adler and the Smithsonian Judaica. Deinard’s initial contact with the Smithsonian was in 1893. In a reply written on 11 December 1893 to a letter from Deinard, Adler acknowledged Deinard’s description of his success in “collecting Oriental Manuscripts” and informed him that he had unsuccessfully sought him out during a trip to Newark in the summer of 1892. Adler indicated that the United States National Museum was financially unable to purchase the manuscripts but wrote that he was “intensely interested in such objects” and would certainly welcome Deinard in Washington if he had a visit planned.[30]

The cordial tone of the letter is actually uncharacteristic of Adler’s attitude toward Deinard. At this early date, Adler’s view of the book dealer was doubtless influenced by Mayer Sulzberger. Sulzberger was a major patron of Deinard, from whom he acquired over 600 manuscripts as well as thousands of books.[31] A catalog of Sulzberger’s collection was published by Deinard; at that time Sulzberger owned 28 manuscripts and about 400 books.[32] Eventually Sulzberger would have his own misgivings about some of Deinard’s dealings, and they are foreshadowed in a note Sulzberger wrote to Deinard on 22 July 1896 with reference to the proposed catalog. Sulzberger gives him permission to print the catalog and then adds: “Only I must insist that no personal remarks, good or bad, shall be printed in it about any person.” In a letter to Professor Marx written in 1909, Sulzberger seems to question Deinard’s mental status; he commented that Marx’s interpretation of a Deinard offering of an Arabic manuscript was “testimony to your proficiency in psychology ... Deinard as usual hears inner voices besides the outer ones of the man who speaks to him.”[33]

The antipathy Adler personally felt toward Deinard can perhaps be traced to a proposal by Deinard to establish a collection of Hebrew works at the Library of Congress to serve the needs of American scholars.[34] Deinard presented the plan at a meeting of the American Oriental Society in 1894.[35] For Deinard, this was a logical proposition: after all, prior to coming to the United States, he had been a purveyor of manuscripts and rare books to many of the great European libraries, including the British Museum, the Bibliothèque Nationale, and the Preussiche Staatsbibiothek. Certainly it made sense to form such a collection at the national library of the United States. According to Deinard, Daniel Coit Gilman, president of the Johns Hopkins University and then-president of the American Oriental Society, approved the plan. Only Cyrus Adler rejected the recommendation.[36]

Adler’s reaction seems to have been both professional and personal. First and foremost, Adler himself already had given voice to such a scheme in 1892.[37] For Adler, a library was only one facet of a larger approach to the scientific study of Judaism in America. Adler was wary of parochialism; he wanted to see such a library only as part of a larger scheme that included museum studies and university coursework, not as just an isolated deposit of books. He could, of course, cite his own experience as a model. As a university-trained scholar of Semitics, his credentials were on a par with those of any “modem humanist.”[38] In the face of the growing secularization of universities, one of Adler’s suggestions was to focus on obtaining funds to help the Jewish Publication Society support original research. The publications would then be distributed to every “College, Library, and seminary in the United States.” A library at the Smithsonian or the Library of Congress was another possibility.

In addition, to Adler, who was a fervent adherent of diplomatic process, Deinard was an interloper, operating outside what Adler felt were the proper channels. It can be surmised that Adler felt the plan should have been proposed through him in his capacity as librarian of the Smithsonian Institution, or at least in consultation with him in his role as resident Semiticist at the National Museum. Moreover, Deinard’s presentation at a public forum, especially the American Oriental Society, and in particular his seeking the approval of Gilman, had likely proven quite difficult for Adler, the scholar of Semitics whose doctorate had been awarded by Gilman himself and who had held an academic appointment at Johns Hopkins for five years after receiving his degree, prior to assuming a full-time position at the Smithsonian.

For Adler, the situation was further complicated by the status at that time of the Smithsonian library within the Library of Congress.[39] In 1866 the Smithsonian library had been transferred to the Library of Congress by an act of Congress. Until the 1880s, when the sheer volume of books caused the system to break down, the Smithsonian’s new book accessions were sent to the Library of Congress. To Adler, who understood the bureaucratic realities, Deinard’s proposal was a serious challenge. Because officially the only books to be retained at the Smithsonian were those required for use by staff in departmental collections, a major library of “Jewish science” would, of necessity, have to be created at the Library of Congress and not the Smithsonian. Thus Adler’s position that the time was not ripe secured his own presence and exclusive influence in this realm for years to come. Adler maintained a close working relationship with the Library of Congress and especially Herbert Putnam, who became librarian of Congress in 1899. Putnam greatly expanded the collections of the library, including securing books on the Bible and “Oriental Subjects.”[40]

Deinard’s overtures to the Library of Congress were not renewed until 1909, when Adler had left the Smithsonian to assume the presidency of Dropsie College. As would be expected, however, Adler’s opinion on the acquisition was solicited by Putnam. Adler, wanting to promote the development of a “Semitica” collection at the Library of Congress, yet still wary of Deinard, recommended that an evaluation of the collection be left to Alexander Marx. In the end, the acquisition did not materialize.

In 1912 the matter of a purchase from Deinard for the Library of Congress was initiated anew. This time it was determined that Jacob Schiff should be approached for funds. Putnam, of course, consulted with Adler and asked him to intercede with Schiff on behalf of the Library of Congress. Adler demurred, stating that the request should come directly from Putnam.[41] Schiff too sought Adler’s advice. Adler, ever the diplomat, wrote back in a most official, “objective” manner, analyzing the merits of establishing a collection of Hebraica and Judaica at the Library of Congress. Though once again he hesitated about giving an appraisal of the quality of the Deinard Collection and deferred to Marx’s opinion, Adler did make eminently clear the importance of a Jewish presence in Washington. Adler noted his personal endeavor to “represent the ideals of Judaism” through his efforts

to place in the National Capitol a collection that would represent in a beautiful and dignified way Jewish ceremonial and art objects and with such funds as the National Museum had at its disposal, I collected a nucleus which has been greatly enhanced by the deposit of the splendid Benguiat collection. These cases in the National Museum are at present the only representation of anything distinctively Jewish in the National Collections which meets the eye[s] of [visitors] from all over the country.[42]

Adler’s letter to Schiff also demonstrated his manipulation of the two sides. Adler responded to Schiff as if he had no prior knowledge of the matter from Putnam. On the other hand, Adler advised Schiff against following Putnam’s suggestion to have a special committee oversee the building of the collection, because it might arouse internal criticism at the Library of Congress, but he did state that Schiff should have the right to approve the librarian, a tacit acknowledgment that because Schiff had once asked Adler’s advice, he would likely do so again, and so Adler would almost certainly have a say in choosing the appointee. Further, Adler confidentially informed Schiff that he had learned from Deinard that, although Putnam was requesting funding for the entire acquisition, there were some funds available from the Library of Congress, and it was best to designate a portion of his gift for future acquisitions.

Clearly Deinard too was doing his best to orchestrate the acquisition. Not only did he contact Adler, but he wrote to Alexander Marx as well to enlist his assistance in the sale to the Library of Congress. In his letter to Marx he said, “I believe that he [Putnam] will send you my book lists or will speak with you about my collection in general. I trust you will not hurt me, perhaps you can even influence him positively.”[43]

Fortunately, despite the machinations, all went well, and the Library of Congress acquired the books, the first of four collections to be acquired from Deinard. Two of the collections were funded by Jacob Schiff. Even Cyrus Adler publicly praised the Deinard Collection and spoke well of its care in an address presented at the Menorah Convention in New York on 30 December 1913.[44]

Deinard Forms a Collection of Jewish Ceremonial Objects

In 1899, when he began a series of trips to Europe and the Near East, Deinard began acquiring objects as well. He was certain he could place them at the Smithsonian. All of the Deinard objects in the Smithsonian’s Judaica collection were acquired by him between 1899 and 1913. By then Deinard had formed a large collection, housed in Palestine. A substantial portion of the collection apparently already had been acquired by 1902, when Deinard sold a group of objects to the Smithsonian. As recounted in a letter to Mayer Sulzberger written in Mantua on Erev Shavuot in 1902, by that date he already had traveled to Damascus and Tunis as well as Strasbourg and to Turin and Casale in Italy. He indicated that he would make stops in Ferrara, Padua, Venice, and Ancona before leaving for Jerusalem via Corfu. Deinard added that he would be looking for objects for the Smithsonian and commented that in Jerusalem “I also anticipate uncovering valuable items, as I had promised Mr. [Cyrus] Adler.” In the letter, Deinard recorded several of the treasures he had found in Mantua, including a 1731 Mahzor from Augsburg, which he priced at $100, and his greatest find, an illuminated Haggadah, for which he wanted $500. This Haggadah was acquired by the Library of Congress, probably in the third Deinard acquisition, in 1916. Now known as the Washington Haggadah, the manuscript by Joel ben Simeon, Hebrew scribe and artist, dates to 1478.[45]

The 25 objects included in the 1902 purchase from Deinard are a Torah case, 6 amulets, a ceremonial cup, a pair of tefillin, a Haggadah from Tunis, and 14 sukkah decorations from Italy. The transaction was initiated in the spring of 1902. In a letter to Cyrus Adler written on 2 April 1902, Deinard wrote that he had forwarded “two cases of Jewish antiquities” to the Smithsonian and would come to Washington to uncrate them. In fact, neither he nor the crates came then, and subsequently Deinard sent a letter requesting that he receive payment by wire sent to Ancona. The crates did not arrive until September, and payment was sent to him in Constantinople [46]

Deinard is not known to have had any further contact with the Smithsonian until 1913. Deinard, then living in Jaffa in Palestine, offered a substantial collection for sale to the museum, and a lively correspondence ensued. Deinard described the collection in a letter addressed to Immanuel Casanowicz:

I have brought together a large collection of Jewish antiquities. About fifty synagogal silver vessels of various kinds, numerous candlesticks of brass and silver, a stone vase found on the Temple site, a large and heavy stone mortar, two large gilt “chairs of Elijah” (used in the rite of circumcision) from synagogues in Italy; a complete collection of Jewish coins, from the first struck by the Maccabeans to the last of Bar-Kochba; a silver miniature of the ancient Holy Ark of Prague; wooden models of the great synagogue at Jerusalem and the Tomb of Rachel; a white metal case of a Torah scroll; various silver ornaments of the Torah scroll; silver cups inscribed; silver cases for the Roll of Esther, the like of which is not seen cither in Europe or America; silver crown, breastplate and bells and pointers for the Torah scroll; Hanukkah lamps of brass and silver; hanging lamps and a candalaber [sic] of brass; old veils for the holy ark inscribed. And many other things which I can not at present enumerate, but will shortly make a detailed list of the whole collection. It goes without saying that this collection will be a credit to the Museum as well as to the Jews.[47]

Deinard also made suggestions as to possible donors for the Museum:

I am sure that if the Director of the Museum will write only two words to Mr. Adolph Lewisohn[48] (who is a lover of antiquities and himself a collector) and inform him that a collection of Jewish antiquities is to be obtained for $6,000, he will extend the money at once, though I have no doubt that also Mr. Schiff would give the money if he were asked.[49]

Casanowicz immediately wrote to consult with Cyrus Adler, who sent the following reply on 30 January 1913:

I have your letter of January 29 and what you write me is very important and very interesting. In as much as Deinard has offered to give a more detailed account of the collection I would advise that you ask him for a catalogue or at least an account in full detail. Much of the money value of the collection depends upon the meaning of one statement in the letter which you write me, namely, “a complete set of Jewish coins.” You ought especially inquire about the number of these and find out how they check up with Madden’s Jewish coinage. If he has even a half complete collection of Jewish coins that alone would be worth more than the price that he asks.[50]

In this first letter, Adler did seem amenable to having Deinard’s collection evaluated and, indeed, offered some information about possible donors:

Of course, the Secretary would be the best person to take the matter up with Mr. Schiff after we have more details about the matter.[51] ... I go to New York to discuss the matter with Judge Sulzberger with whom I am going over. Mr. Lewisohn is a man who is perfectly able to make such a donation and has in fact made large donations to various institutions. Up to this time as far as I can see he has made his donations principally to the City College of New York and to Yale University. He could be reached best through Arnold Brunner, the architect, who is his adviser on all matters of art and antiquity and all the Museum people are very friendly with Brunner.[52]

Adler did mention his own preference for acquiring a Judaica collection. Adler would have preferred that the museum buy the Benguiat Collection, which by that time had been on loan to the Museum for 20 years.

Adler’s remarks give a sense of his personal feelings toward Deinard:

You speak of Deinard’s bringing the collection to this country for examination. I understood that Deinard had gone to settle in Palestine. Of course, I never believed that he would settle there but I think it is a very good thing to let him settle there.[53]

Adler went on to suggest that it might be worthwhile to try to find an expert in Palestine who might examine the collection for the Smithsonian. Alternatively, he suggested that it was not really a problem for the objects to be shipped to the Museum for inspection, as he assumed that all of the items were antiquities and there would be no difficulty with potential customs duties.

However, just three days later, Adler sent Casanowicz another letter after he had consulted with Mayer Sulzberger. Now Adler was very brief:

Judge Sulzberger who knows Deinard well says that he is a good collector, but that his judgment as an antiquarian is not to be trusted. If therefore the question of the purchase of his collection is to be considered at all it should be made on condition that he send it to the Museum for inspection.[54]

In his administrative memos, Casanowicz recorded that he had written Deinard on that very day

asking him for a full and detailed list of the specimens, a description of their state of preservation and data of their provenance and genuineness, and also suggested some objects necessary to make this collection complete and representative.

To this Deinard replied from Jaffa on 25 February 1913:

All of the objects which you have mentioned in your letter are already in my collection and I am constantly adding to it so that you need not doubt that there will be nothing wanting in it that is necessary for a Jew from the cradle to grave. But the collection is already so large that I have absolutely no time to prepare a detailed list of it. I would therefore request you to ask the Director of the Museum whether he wants to receive this collection. If so, I shall send the collection to the Museum where you could examine it and make a list of it. Also the Maecenas who would buy it for the Museum could then see it. I have no fear but that we shall agree as regards the price.[55]

On 22 March 1913 Casanowicz officially informed William Henry Holmes,[56] the head curator of the Department of Anthropology, of Deinard’s offer. Holmes’s response came by way of a handwritten note on Casanowicz’s original letter: “Regrets, no funds for purchase.” Yet despite this situation, Holmes forwarded the information to Assistant Secretary Richard Rathbun with the following note: “There appears to be a great opportunity here. The collection of such objects is important historically and from the standpoint of art.” Holmes mentioned that if the secretary wanted to purchase the collection, the objects would have to be brought to Washington for inspection. Rathbun passed this information on to Secretary Charles D. Walcott, noting that both Ephraim Deinard and Cyrus Adler had suggested approaching Adolph Lewisohn or Jacob Schiff for funding.[57]

After a lapse of two months, Rathbun followed up on the proposed acquisition, appending a draft of a letter (authored by Casanowicz) to be sent to the potential donors. Among Rathbun’s concerns was that because the Benguiat Collection was a loan, it could be withdrawn at any time. The Casanowicz draft gives a brief description of the Deinard Collection and then discusses the need for and importance of the acquisition, which Deinard had described as containing

all that is necessary for a Jew from The day of his birth to the day of his death.

The collection of objects of Jewish ceremonial at present on exhibition in the National Museum is one of the most complete and valuable in existence. Its educational influence can not be overestimated. Not only is it one of the great attractions for the thousands that pass through the halls of the Museum, but is often the object of serious study of Bible classes and Sunday schools. But by far the greater and most valuable part of this collection is a loan of the family Benguiat, including many family heirlooms, and is liable to be any day withdrawn from the National Museum. This would cause a serious lacuna in the exhibitions of the National Museum which would be greatly regretted by the visiting public at large and by Bible students especially. It may therefore be that the offer of Mr. Deinard is the right occasion and opportunity of securing a permanent representation of Judaism in the national capital which is more and more becoming the center not only of the political life of the American people but also of their religious and ideal interests and endeavors.

The letter continues with the significance of the acquisition for the Jewish community:

But as the National Museum has no funds available for such acquisitions, I venture to suggest that this may be a fit and proper occasion for the Jews to put up by the donation of this collection a monument, as it were, and an object lesson of their faith, religious life and history.[58]

Although Casanowicz had indeed characterized in his own way both the educational and political agendas long espoused by Adler, the secretary apparently decided that it would be desirable to contact Adler himself and ask him to draft a letter to Adolph Lewisohn. Adler’s letter expressed the need for the collection much more adroitly (and not immodestly) and tailored the request to the donor by mentioning an aspect of the collection that Adler knew would be of particular interest to him.[59] Adler’s draft, which was, in fact, copied verbatim when sent to Lewisohn, reads as follows:

Some twenty years ago, in the course of the development of that portion of the United States National Museum which relates to the History of Man, it was decided to include collections illustrating the great religions of the world. Doctor Cyrus Adler, then connected with the Museum[60] made the initial collections which have steadily grown in interest and importance. Among these historic religions, Judaism naturally held an important position and the collections in this field have grown by gift and loan to be of considerable moment. I am sending you under separate cover several catalogues which have been issued by the Museum from which you can see at a glance some of the objects that have been gathered.

In addition to these more notable ones, there have been brought together many excellent engravings and prints of synagogues which have been useful to the architects of this country when called upon to design such buildings. A number of years ago, for example, when Mr. Arnold Brunner, who I am sure is known to you, had a synagogue to design, he made studies from these collections.

The letter continues with the request for support, noting:

Opportunities for securing collections of Jewish ceremonial do not often occur, but when they do, the Museum is without funds to meet the emergency. Our appropriations from Congress are in the main specific and fixed, and we have little opportunity to purchase collections when brought to our attention except through the help of generous friends of the nation.

The appeal is followed by a brief description of Ephraim Deinard, as a man of “industry and rare knowledge” and includes in its closing remarks another direct pitch:

I thought you might be willing to consider making a gift of this collection for the benefit of the Nation. I appreciate that you must have brought before you many suggestions and appeals, and if for any reason, you do not see your way at the moment to undertake this matter I shall completely understand the situation. It would be a gratification to me, however, to have the privilege of associating your name with the growth of the National Collections.[61]

Adler appended two notes to the draft of 27 May. One was the entry for Adolph Lewisohn from Who’s Who, 1912–13. The second was a personal note to R.I. Geare, who was Secretary Walcott’s assistant, with a stem caveat that if the draft was to be used, the secretary should be aware that

I am not speaking from any knowledge at all about this collection. On January 29, 1913 Doctor Casanowicz wrote me a long letter on the subject. On January 30 I answered him advising the collection be brought to this country for inspection or that at least a detailed catalogue be secured. I am not at all favorable to purchasing Deinard’s collection without having some expert see it. On February 3, Doctor Casanowicz acknowledged my letter and since then I have heard nothing about the matter. While as I wrote to Doctor Casanowicz I am very anxious to see the collections grow, we ought not buy a pig in a poke.[62]

Lewisohn declined to purchase the collection. The memos worked their way back to Casanowicz through Geare and then went to Rathbun and Holmes with the suggestion that it might be worthwhile to contact Mr. Schiff with the same request.[63] Casanowicz replied on 17 July to Holmes that it would be best to wait until Deinard brought the collection to the United States to be evaluated. Casanowicz stated: “When it is seen and found to be as represented the authorities of the National Museum will be in [a] position to recommend its purchase on their own account and responsibility.” Apparently Casanowicz had taken Adler’s admonition to heart and felt he could not proceed any further.

Deinard, still in Jaffa, had no notion of the dealings at the National Museum. However, he was still anxious to make the sale and wrote to Secretary Walcott in a letter received on 5 November 1913 that he had further enriched the collection and was willing to pay for the costs of transportation to Washington so that the collection could be exhibited at the museum. Deinard’s expressed rationale was: “I am quite sure that when the collection is displayed there will be easily found generous Jews who will be willing to buy it and present it to the National Museum, for it will be both an ornament to the Museum and a credit to Judaism.” On 2 December 1913 a reply was sent to Deinard from Rathbun expressing willingness on the part of the museum to receive the collection for exhibition, and instructions for shipping were given.

However, the Deinard Collection was not shipped immediately, and World War I prevented it from being sent until 1920, when Deinard brought the collection to Washington. In a letter dated 22 May 1920 Casanowicz wrote to Holmes that Deinard had again offered the collection to the museum as a deposit, pending a purchaser who could present it to the museum. Casanowicz recommended that the collection be accepted as an accession for examination. Holmes’s response to Richard Ravenel, now the assistant secretary, was that although this was quite out of the ordinary, he might want to approve the request because the “material may finally accrue to us.”[64] Thus, the first objects from the Deinard Collection were finally accessioned by the United States National Museum as a loan.

By 1926, when still no donor had been found to purchase the collection for the Smithsonian, Mendel Silber, Deinard’s son-in-law, wrote the following translation of the introduction to Devir Ephraim, the prospectus of Deinard’s collection:

This collection would constitute a most excellent and valuable nucleus for a Jewish Museum, for which there is a great need in the country. This collection of antiquities, which illustrate the history of religion, was procured with much difficulty and great effort in the oldest Jewish settlements in the Orient. Such articles are indeed very rare. Moreover, few of them are in Jewish hands. This is due to the insecurity of the Jew throughout the centuries, which made the preservation of such objects well nigh impossible.[65]

By this time Deinard was nearly blind and almost unable to work. In 1927 he lent the remainder of his collection of ceremonial art to the Smithsonian. It was in this final shipment that he included the large group of private papers and correspondence. Considered to be “nondescript material” from the museum’s perspective, as noted by Casanowicz on his intake memo, these documents (described earlier in this chapter) were apparently part of the legacy Deinard wanted to leave at the National Museum. By 1927 Deinard had deposited almost 600 objects and documents at the Smithsonian.

It is uncertain why Deinard decided to begin a collection of objects. It is possible, as he indicated in his 1902 letter to Mayer Sulzberger, that his sole motivation to purchase objects was a request from Cyrus Adler to look for “valuable items.” Deinard, unlike Adler, was not a theoretician, and the only model he used for collecting objects that would represent Jewish life from “cradle to grave” was his own experience as a traditionally observant Jew. Wissenschaft des Judentums was integral to his efforts as a bibliophile, and, as evidenced by his remarkable accomplishments in assembling major collections of books and manuscripts, he was extremely knowledgeable about them. Unfortunately, compared with his achievements in the world of books, he did not attain anywhere near the same level of mastery as an antiquarian.

Certainly one element of Deinard’s success as a bibliophile and book dealer was that he searched for materials incessantly. He was a scavenger and a deal-maker. Deinard favored purchasing whole collections, which meant that he could get the best possible price. He did obtain some rarities: a group of eighteenth- and nineteenth-century ketubbot from Damascus; a number of nineteenth-century Italian memorial candle plaques; and a quantity of Italian graphics used as sukkah decorations. It is indicative of Deinard’s true expertise that these more important items are akin to manuscripts. But his penchant for purchasing entire collections also led him, for example, to acquire an entire group of silver ceremonial objects of dubious provenance (such as NMNH 315288). In another instance, he obtained a group of nearly two dozen Italian Torah binders, among which was only one outstanding example (NMAH 315209).

Nonetheless, although the quality of the artifacts and documents in the Deinard Collection is mixed, by virtue of the early date at which they were obtained through his extensive and unparalleled contacts and travels, Deinard’s pioneering attempts to amass a representative collection of Jewish life meant some important items were saved from being lost.

It was Deinard’s hope that the Smithsonian eventually would prepare a catalog of his collection, as had been done for the Benguiat Collection, and he apparently submitted some type of catalog listing to Casanowicz. In November 1927, two months after Casanowicz passed away, Deinard requested that Dr. Israel Shapiro, head of the Division of Semitic and Oriental Literature at the Library of Congress, intercede on his behalf in order to ascertain whether the listing had been found among Casanowicz’s personal effects. A note in the file from W.H. Holmes indicates that many of Deinard’s “specimens” were described in a manuscript, which would be published. This response was officially conveyed to Deinard on 2 December from A. Wetmore, an assistant secretary. However, the publication, “Collections of Objects of Religious Ceremonial in the United States National Museum,” which appeared in 1929, included only the same few items that were part of the 1902 purchase.

After Deinard’s death in 1930, the collection remained at the Smithsonian as a loan. In 1954 Deinard’s grandsons Amos S. Deinard and Benedict S. Deinard began discussions with the museum about the disposition of the collection. The negotiations with the Deinard heirs proved to be difficult, as they were unwilling to accept the appraisers suggested by the museum. Even though a memo written by H.W. Krieger, dated 2 February 1954, gives some indication that the Smithsonian’s evaluation of the collection was that it was not “outstanding,” Dr. Remington Kellogg, director of the museum, was apparently anxious to retain it. Kellogg wrote a letter on 27 April to Benedict Deinard stressing the importance of the collection and quoting from the Parke-Bernet catalog of the sale of the collection of Mrs. Rebecca Davidowitz:

The demand for Hebraica among American collectors has mounted sharply in recent years. ...This intense, almost passionate, interest is not due merely to the genuinely emotional feeling of the Jewish community today for its own ritual relics, and for the widely scattered fragments of its folk art, produced by a harassed and dispersed people all over the Western world under the most difficult conditions. It stems equally from the increasing shortage of such material, which has been brought about by the destruction of Jewish possessions and the razing of synagogues during the horrors immediately preceding the last war, and the subsequent ravages of the military campaigns in Central Europe, Russia and other theatres of battle. Much of the material that survived was donated to Jewish museums in Israel and elsewhere, thus further reducing the visible supply to the collector.[66]

In fact, the quote in Kellogg’s letter is appropriate to the approach of Ephraim Deinard himself, as his primary aim was preservation. After a satisfactory appraisal was obtained, the Deinard Collection was deeded as a gift to the Smithsonian in 1955.

9. New Generations

Over the years, as the Smithsonian’s museum units multiplied, the Judaica collections were split among various divisions. In these interim years, there were only occasional accessions of Judaica, which were acquired primarily within large collections. For example, the Virgil M. Hillyer Collection of Heating and Lighting Devices, donated to the Smithsonian by his wife in 1935, includes over a thousand items, of which twelve are items of Judaica.[1] An article Hillyer wrote for the Harvard University Alumni Bulletin provides an interesting commentary on why he was interested in acquiring objects of Jewish ceremonial:

With each distinctive piece acquired I have often found that a whole new field of experience has been opened up. The finding of a rare Hanukkah light has stimulated my interest in Jewish religion and history, and made a point of departure for extensive excursions into Semitics.[2]

Unfortunately, Hillyer let his enthusiasm be his guide in his purchases of Judaica, and a number of the objects he purchased from dealers are problematic. One very curious item is a strange composite object created from a memorial lamp, which has been transformed into a Hanukkah lamp. An element salvaged from yet another object bears a dedicatory inscription in Hebrew indicating that it was the gift of Nathan son of Naftali Rosenboim, of the Society of Anshe Hesed (“Righteous Men”), of Bialystok.[3]

Division of Cultural History

In 1948 C. Malcolm Watkins, a young cultural historian, joined the Smithsonian staff as a curator to build a new division of cultural history within the Department of Anthropology. It was a distinct history unit by the early 1960s, when he was preparing to move the European collections to the new Museum of History and Technology (renamed the National Museum of American History in 1980) for study and the European background displays to a hall called “Everyday Life in the American Past.”[4] Included, but not listed, in the transfer of the European collections were approximately two-thirds of the Judaica, a total of about 650 objects. The Judaica remaining in the Department of Anthropology was associated with the Middle East and North Africa, although this was not accurate in all instances. There are no documents from the period that explain how decisions were made.[5] The new exhibits on culture at the National Museum of History and Technology concentrated on the national identities of European groups that had come to the United States from Great Britain, France, Holland, and so forth. Only one Jewish ceremonial object, a Hanukkah lamp from Italy, was displayed, and it was incorrectly incorporated into the exhibit on France.

In 1959 Dr. Eugene Knez was one of the new curators hired by the Smithsonian to plan a major exhibit modernization program for the Department of Anthropology.[6] The hall “Peoples of Africa and Asia” was installed in 1965; its section on the Middle East contained a unit on Judaism. Knez decided to distinguish that region as the seat of three major religions, and he, like Adler, viewed Judaism as “primary,” given that its development preceded the development of Christianity and Islam. His script for the exhibit was reviewed by members of the local Jewish community, including Lawrence Marwick, then head of the Hebraic Section of the Library of Congress. Although several items of Judaica were still on display from earlier periods, and although the Smithsonian already had a sizeable Judaica collection, Knez sought out additional objects, a process he found noteworthy for its “difficulties.” Again following Adler’s approach, Knez was eager to represent traditional cultures with resonating modem artifacts, and he obtained a donation from the Embassy of Israel.[7] In addition, a gift of ceremonial objects made by contemporary Jewish silversmiths Ludwig Wolpert, Chava Wolpert Richards, and Moshe Zabari was solicited from Dr. and Mrs. Abram Kanof.[8] These objects were all created in the Tobe Pascher Workshop established by the Kanofs at the Jewish Museum in New York.

Kanof, writing on why he felt it was important for contemporary Jewish ceremonial objects to go to the Smithsonian, noted how a fortuitous encounter led to the gift:

My interest, and that of my wife, Dr. Frances Pascher, in the concept of modern design for Jewish ceremonial objects was natural. As Jews reared in traditional homes and matured in America, we felt the need to integrate both cultures into our lives. Moreover, as modest collectors of modem art, and as Jews in the Conservative Movement, it seemed logical to introduce the principle of contemporary design into the Baroque and Gothic Judaica just as in the Conservative synagogue the prayer ritual had been modernized. Our thoughts resolved into action with the establishment of the Tobe Pascher Workshop in the Jewish Museum [in New York] of which I was then Chairman.

The Workshop brought to this country first Ludwig Wolpert [in 1955] and then Moshe Zabari [in 1960], from the Bozalel Art School in Jerusalem. The two taught and created diverse and significant forms in ceremonial art. In their work they created contemporary designs which embody the most profound concepts of prayer and worship. Their pieces from the Workshop are to be found in synagogues and homes throughout the world.

In an extension of our interest, Mrs. Kanof and I founded a collection in the Jewish Museum. When I became Chairman of the B’nai B’rith Museum, we added an extensive collection to that institution. At the opening event, the then Director of the Smithsonian suggested a similar collection at the Smithsonian. The idea of a national Judaica collection of modem design to supplement the magnificent group of traditional pieces inflamed our imagination. We said yes.[9]

The gift was arranged through Tom Freudenheim, then assistant curator of the Jewish Museum in New York, who later became assistant secretary for the arts and humanities at the Smithsonian. Knez had written to Freudenheim requesting his help in acquiring these objects; his letter described the goals of the Smithsonian in acquiring the contemporary objects.

The purpose of the Jewish exhibit is to present a significant aspect of the cultural mosaic in the Near East. ... Ritual objects are being utilized since they introduce the museum visitor to some of the essentials in contemporary Jewish life and its religious orientation.[10]

Cyrus Adler was long gone, but the conceptual framework that he had established in shaping the basic philosophy of the Division of Historic Religions persisted. The new permanent exhibit, which incorporated the contemporary ceremonial objects, echoed the early Smithsonian exhibits on Biblical archaeology, which treated contemporary practice as “living archaeology.”[11] This new exhibit remained in place until 1994.

Smithsonian Judaica Reorganized

In 1969 curator Richard E. Ahlborn, at the National Museum of American History, established a new Division of Ethnic and Western Cultural History to preserve materials of American regional and minority groups. Among the collections for which he was responsible was the Judaica. Beginning with Ahlborn’s tenure, the Judaica collection again became active, with research, preservation efforts, loans for exhibitions, and new acquisitions.

In 1972 Ahlborn discovered a cache of about a dozen copies of a 1929 publication, “Collections of Objects of Religious Ceremonial in the United States National Museum.” This volume, written by Immanuel Casanowicz and published posthumously in his honor, is based on his 35 years of “study of religions comprehending the historic cults of the world.”[12] The catalog represented the last vestige of the Division of Historic Religions, which traced its beginnings to 1893. Ahlborn brought the Casanowicz volume to the attention of Arthur M. Feldman, then the curator of the Renwick Gallery at the Smithsonian, who was about to become the director of the Spertus Museum of Judaica, in Chicago. The Casanowicz catalog was an astonishing revelation both because of its implication that a collection of Jewish ceremonial objects existed at the Smithsonian and because the first objects in this group had been collected in the nineteenth century, at a time when not a single Jewish museum had been established anywhere in the world, let alone a Jewish collection in a public museum.[13] It was Feldman’s suggestion to organize a loan exhibition of objects from the Smithsonian for the Spertus.

As curator of the Spertus, Grace Cohen Grossman first met with Ahlborn in December 1972. That meeting, like Adler’s with Mason nearly a century before, turned out to be quite serendipitous. Ahlborn’s response to the loan request was actually an invitation to begin a study of the Judaica collection.

In fact, he jokingly remarked, “If we can find them, you can borrow them!” Thus the research on Judaica at the Smithsonian was initiated to identify and inventory ceremonial and ethnographic Judaica in departments throughout the Smithsonian’s museums. In a series of brief visits between 1973 and 1985, with funding provided by the Smithsonian Institution’s Office of Fellowships and Grants, and in 1984, with a grant from the Memorial Foundation of Jewish Culture, ceremonial and ethnographic Judaica was located, examined, and recorded. By 1985 more than 850 objects had been inventoried, and the cataloging of each item was in process.

The beginning of the project was much like a treasure hunt. Using the Casanowicz catalog as a guide, Grossman began to puzzle out the history of the collection. Where and what were the objects, and how had they gotten “lost”? With few exceptions, the objects were merely misplaced. With the growth of the Smithsonian’s collections over the years, the names of various collections, divisions, and departments changed along with their jurisdiction over certain types and classes of objects. It was necessary to backtrack through the surviving records of personnel, collections, and exhibition policy to determine where the objects were currently located. Throughout the process, a substantial body of documentation on the history of the collection was compiled.

During an intense two-day review of storerooms in what was then the Museum of History and Technology, in May 1973, about 150 individual items were identified. Because no inventory was available, the process of searching for the objects involved simply opening each cabinet to look for Jewish ceremonial objects. When a longer, two-week survey was scheduled for March 1974, a more organized plan was developed. Old United States National Museum reports that could provide relevant information about the development of the collection were sought out. Also, it had been noted during the 1973 survey that a number of objects were marked with the name Deinard, which was a clue that there might be other objects that had been given by the same donor; later, a footnote in an article on Deinard revealed that the Deinard collection at the Smithsonian comprised 470 objects.[14] There are actually almost a hundred more objects than that in the Deinard collection, but the fact that there were so many objects at the Smithsonian from Deinard was the first major breakthrough in the study.

During the 1974 survey, copies of the Deinard accession lists were found in the Office of the Registrar. As it turned out, the Deinard collection came into the Smithsonian over a 25-year period beginning in 1902, when a number of objects were purchased from Deinard. Also located was a curious group of letters that had been in the accession file for 50 years. This correspondence, although not relevant to the collection, consisted of various letters to and from Deinard reflecting his many interests, from Zionism to the settlement of Jewish farmers in the western United States.

In an effort to find objects from the Deinard collection that had not been transferred to the Museum of History and Technology, the search-and-find method of locating objects was undertaken in the anthropology storage areas at the National Museum of Natural History. There, in units listed as containing objects from Palestine and Syria, about 200 objects were discovered. By 1974 Ahlborn had located a sack of documents from the Deinard collection, and Myron M. Weinstein, then acting head of the Hebraica Section at the Library of Congress, agreed to identify them. These manuscript pages had apparently remained untouched for half a century as well. More than 200 items were eventually identified by Weinstein, who was uniquely qualified to do the research, given his great skill in reading and analyzing a broad range of Hebrew scripts. By late 1974, more than 500 objects were part of the growing roster of Judaica.

On the subsequent research trips, records were carefully examined in the Anthropology Processing Lab, where the original accession books were made available, as well as the loan records dating from the nineteenth century. Through the loan records, the history of the Benguiat Collection at the Smithsonian was documented. Although the actual correspondence and loan forms had been destroyed long ago, the records of the correspondence file proved to be an invaluable resource in learning about the history of the collection in which the Benguiat loan had played such a prominent role.

Just at the time when the Smithsonian Judaica was becoming known, the National Museum of History and Technology was preparing a monumental exhibition, “A Nation of Nations,” to commemorate the Bicentennial of the American Revolution. Under the late senior curator Carl Scheele, the planners of the exhibition began to struggle with issues of multiculturalism, seeking to acknowledge the diverse groups of Americans while conceding that

the nation of nations has also been a place of turmoil among red men, white men, black men, and yellow men; it has also been a caldron which has refused to melt the antagonistic elements into a new, single race of composite men. Rather the American has come to be a multiple man, with allegiances here and sympathies to a past which somehow seems essential to his quest for personal identity.[15]

Greater interest began to be shown in the Judaica, partly as a result of the renewed research, and several Jewish ceremonial objects were included in “A Nation of Nations.” The museum began to receive many loan requests; at the time, the loans were made primarily to local institutions for use in holiday-oriented exhibitions.

In 1978 a major exhibition of Judaica, the first loan exhibition of its size since the Tennessee Valley Exhibition some seven decades earlier, was organized for the B’nai B’rith Klutznick Museum in Washington. Anna M. Cohn, director of the Klutznick, who later became the director of the Smithsonian Institution Traveling Exhibition Service (SITES), requested the loan on short notice when a major exhibition scheduled for display at the Klutznick Museum was suddenly canceled. From the inventory in process, Grossman and Ahlborn provided lists to the Klutznick by object type and by museum location.

Seventy-five objects were included in the exhibition. Because of the time constraints, it was not possible to revise the existing attributions, all of which dated from the Adler-Casanowicz era, and so the label copy did not reflect current research. The exhibit was titled “Judaica from the Smithsonian: An Enduring Link with an Ancient Past,” and what was highlighted was the fact that these were the hidden Judaica treasures of the Smithsonian. No particular theme was developed beyond the notion of “treasures,” and the exhibition was installed according to life-cycle events, holiday celebrations, and objects used in synagogue worship. No catalog was published, but the brochure text briefly discussed the history of the collection. Clearly, the very fact that a collection of Jewish ceremonial objects had existed at the Smithsonian for a century was the critical message of the exhibition. For the Jewish community, which, like other groups in the 1970s, was searching for cultural roots, the legacy of the Smithsonian Judaica bestowed a great measure of pride, and an exhibition was a useful cultural model to express the agenda of those cultural politics.

As a result of the B’nai B’rith exhibition, SITES became interested in organizing a traveling exhibition of the Smithsonian’s Judaica objects. Again, the thrust was to be the little-known and very surprising fact that there was a significant collection of Jewish ceremonial objects at the Smithsonian. Approximately 100 objects were selected for the exhibition, and the focus was to be on the outstanding objects in the collection, with the criteria for inclusion being either the significance of the object from the perspective of Jewish material culture, its importance in terms of the history of the collection, or both.

Unfortunately, the exhibition never materialized because the Smithsonian conservators judged that many of the most important objects were too fragile to travel. The benefit of this decision was that for the first time, the Department of Conservation became involved with the Judaica; eventually this would result in a major conservation effort to at least stabilize the condition of a large number of works in the collection.

In 1982 another major exhibition drawing from the Smithsonian’s collections was organized by the Office of Folklife Programs and the Renwick Gallery of the National Museum of American Art. “Celebration: A World of Art and Ritual” had as its intent to “mount a major exhibition that would reveal the Smithsonian’s long interest in studying and collecting objects from folk and traditional cultures.”[16] Of the thousands of objects identified through the four-year research phase, approximately 600 items representing 62 cultures were selected for the exhibition. What the organizers realized was that many of the objects chosen for the exhibition had not been studied since they were acquired by the Smithsonian. In many instances, that meant nearly a hundred years or more. In order to ensure that the objects were properly described, the help of specialists was enlisted to provide more current cataloging data on the objects. Judaica was selected as one of the areas in which consultation was requested, and subsequently 20 Jewish ceremonial objects were included in the exhibition. The philosophy of the “Celebration” exhibition would have validated many of Cyrus Adler’s dreams, for it was a cross-cultural exhibition with the “authenticity” of the description of each culture ensured by a researcher representing that culture. As described by Victor Turner, curator of the exhibition, these researchers “brought to light knowledge that enables us to hear what the objects say with understanding, respect, and some inkling of the historical conditions under which they were created.”[17]

In 1987 “Generations: A Universal Family Album,” another monumental cross-cultural exhibition that drew largely from the Smithsonian’s collections, was organized as the inaugural exhibition of the Smithsonian’s International Gallery. Anna Cohn was the project director for the exhibition. Once again, the curatorial research group included Judaica as a field of specialization, although in the actual exhibition only two objects of Judaica were included.[18]

Beginning in the late 1970s, Judaica from the Smithsonian was also loaned for major exhibitions organized by Jewish museums. These included “Magic and Superstition in the Jewish Tradition,” organized by the Spertus Museum of Judaica in Chicago; “Jewish Heritage in American Folk Art,” organized by the Jewish Museum and the Museum of Folk Art in New York; “Gardens and Ghettos: The Art of Jewish Life in Italy,” organized by the Jewish Museum; and “Sephardi Jews in the Ottoman Empire,” organized by the Israel Museum in Jerusalem.

The progress of the Judaica inventory and study of the collection and the increased visibility through exhibitions encouraged Ahlborn to seek funding to support a three-phase project: the comprehensive interbureau, interdisciplinary survey and cataloging of the Smithsonian’s Judaica holdings; publication of the findings; and an exhibition of the Judaica. Phase I of the Smithsonian Judaica Project was formally launched in November 1985 with a grant from the Horace W. Goldsmith Foundation.

The Smithsonian Judaica Project was organized under Ahlborn’s supervision, with Grossman serving as project director. Dr. Gus Van Beek and Dr. Paul Taylor represented the National Museum of Natural History during the course of the project and did much to facilitate research. Elizabeth Kessin Berman joined the project as cataloger and took on the day-to-day responsibilities of the survey and cataloging process. Berman worked from the inventory, catalog work sheets,, and photographs that Grossman had compiled during earlier work stages to complete, refine, and further explore the holdings in the Smithsonian. Ultimately, ceremonial and ethnographic Judaica was located in fourteen departments throughout the Smithsonian’s museums.[19] The Judaica was cataloged using the standards and format of the International Index of Jewish Art developed by the Center for Jewish Art at the Hebrew University in Jerusalem. Sheila Salo edited and typed each catalog entry. A comprehensive data base was also compiled and is included at the end of this publication. A reference file was established in the Office of Historical Resources, Department of History, Division of Cultural History, National Museum of American History, to house all of the International Index of Jewish Art cards, research aids, and guides to the Smithsonian’s Judaica collection. In addition, an accession file was developed that contains a synopsis of materials contained in the Smithsonian Archives and in the museum records that pertain to the accession of documentation of the objects.

Many individuals were involved in the project.[20] As noted above, Myron Weinstein, of the Library of Congress, identified and interpreted nearly 200 documents in the collection. Curators from various Smithsonian divisions were extremely helpful in providing valuable research and reference information on the objects. This technical cataloging assistance included, for example, the identification of hallmarks on silver and watermarks on paper as well as the analysis of textile fibers.

The enthusiastic participation of the curators and conservators resulted in a major storage stabilization of the objects at the National Museum of American History. This conservation project was managed by Elizabeth Kessin Berman as well. The paper conservator, Ann Craddock, determined that urgent care of the numerous works on paper was needed, and it was decided that all of the paper and parchments in the collection needed to be rehoused. As a result, special boxes to house the unique parchments mounted on wood were designed and built by conservation lab staff, and two interns built special containers for the 50 Syrian marriage contracts and rehoused 50 prints and graphics in the collection as well. Nikki Horton, an objects conservator, similarly made recommendations for rehousing. Catherine Dirks, a textile conservator, surveyed and analyzed all of the Judaica textiles at the National Museum of American History. Under her supervision, all of the textiles were vacuumed and properly stored, and a number of objects were treated. After phase one of the project was completed, the Judaica objects at the National Museum of Natural History were moved to the Smithsonian’s state-of-the-art storage facility in Suitland, Maryland, where they could be properly rehoused.

As new objects are acquired by the Smithsonian, they are cataloged according to the International Index of Jewish Art system. Batja Bell, of the Object Processing Facility at the National Museum of American History, has served as a cataloging consultant for the Judaica project since 1989. David Shayt, a collections manager in the Division of Cultural History, is responsible for the care of the Judaica and has actively participated in research on a number of the objects. What remains to be done is to computerize the catalog data. The Smithsonian’s Judaica collection is available for research; inquiries should be directed to the Department of Anthropology at the National Museum of Natural History and the Department of History at the National Museum of American History.

FIGURE 23.—Installation of Judaica at the National Museum of Natural History, 1965–1993. (Department of Anthropology Processing Lab Photography Records)

In 1987 phase two of the Smithsonian Judaica Project—writing the history of the collection to prepare this publication—was undertaken with additional funding from the Horace W. Goldsmith Foundation. Accession records, archival documents, and published reports gathered during almost two decades of research on the collection were reviewed, and additional material was sought in the process. During phase two, over 100 of the Judaica objects were photographed in preparation for publication. Funding for this volume was provided by a grant from the Joseph and Bessie Feinberg Foundation.

The way in which the collection serves as a resource continues to reflect the cultural politics of those who use it and the cultural models developed to convey the specific message. An example is the exhibition entitled “History as Memory and Model.” The exhibition was developed at the National Museum of American History by Ahlborn and Grossman in response to a request by the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum to participate in commemorating its opening, in 1993. Though the display was small, because of its importance it was given a position of prominence, directly across from the original Star-Spangled Banner flag. Because of the popularity of the flag display when the national anthem is played hourly, thousands of visitors saw the Judaica exhibition. The exhibition itself was funded by the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum.

On display were several ceremonial objects and photographs that were among the earliest acquisitions of Judaica at the museum. The text panel provided a brief statement about the initial acquisition of Judaica at the Smithsonian and then suggested a very different context for viewing these objects and photographs, demonstrating how varying presentations of the same objects can convey new meanings. The photographs of historic European synagogues, which Harry Friedenwald purchased for the museum in 1890, were collected by Adler not only as historical photographs but also because he hoped they would serve as models for American synagogues. Yet not quite fifty years later, in Germany on the night of 9-10 November 1938—known as Kristallnacht, the “Night of Broken Glass”—began the massive destruction by the Nazis of Jewish homes, businesses, and cultural and religious institutions. By the end of World War II many European synagogues lay in ruins, their ceremonial objects widely scattered. Thus the vintage photographs in the Smithsonian Judaica collection have become not only architectural records but a poignant memorial as well.

In this instance, the cultural politics of the exhibition was to use the objects to make a statement about the impact of the Holocaust. The statement, by implication, was to serve as a moral lesson for the visitor. A simple didactic cultural model used the power of presentation by contrasting the beautiful vintage photographs of the synagogues with the grainy enlargement from a newspaper report of the Nazi burning of one of them, the Wiesbaden Synagogue.

As Adler had intended with his own work, the exhibition “History as Memory and Model” and the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum itself aim to set the record straight about stereotypes and prejudice.[21] Sadly, however, the message about the annihilation of European Jewry that was emphasized by this exhibition is not the same message about the contribution of Jews to Western civilization that Cyrus Adler felt he had brought to the nation’s capital “with beauty and dignity.” The Smithsonian’s Judaica collection will doubtless be amplified and interpreted by others in the future.

10. Conclusion

From the outset of the Smithsonian Judaica Research Project, it became clear that a comprehensive study of the artifacts could not be confined to typical cataloging data, with a description of the physical characteristics of the object, the history of its manufacture and use, and its provenance prior to acquisition by the Smithsonian. Rather, it was critical as well to focus on the curators and collectors who shaped the collection. Their perceptions as to what was appropriate to include in the collection, their methods of acquisition, and their philosophies of how the objects were to be interpreted in exhibitions and publications were vital to an understanding of the growth and development of the Smithsonian Judaica collection.

What emerges from a study of the history of this collection is an illustration of how the world view of its curators and collectors influenced their efforts. In this instance, both theory and practice about acquisitions and interpretation reflect their outlook on the study of religion, specifically Judaism. The attempts through acquisitions, exhibitions, and publications to actualize the special agendas that represented their perspective have had an impact on our understanding of the objects that is as significant as any information about the actual history of the individual artifacts.

To validate this characterization of the Judaica collection’s history as a demonstration of the role of cultural politics in shaping cultural models, we might consider two questions: Without the efforts of Cyrus Adler, would the United States National Museum have established a department of religion, and would Jewish ceremonial objects have been collected? In responding to both questions, it is necessary to consider both the climate of the times at the museum and the fact that all new departments needed an advocate whose plan had the backing of the top administration. Keeping that in mind, the answer in both instances is likely not.

Although George Brown Goode did list religion in his 1881 classification system, it was not a top priority. There was apparently little interest in studying the history of religion outside of what was being acquired through ethnological studies of Native Americans, who were considered to be in the realm of what Adler termed “semi-civilized or barbarous nations.” Given the formation of collections of comparative religion at other institutions, such as the Musée Guimet, the Smithsonian eventually might have followed suit, but not necessarily.

The fact is that after the Civil War, the focus of the Smithsonian’s collections was becoming more concentrated on America. The most telling reason is reflected in the first exchange Otis Mason had with Spencer Baird in the early 1870s. Mason was told that he should give up his interest in Oriental studies, for if he did not, he would have to be satisfied with the leavings of European scholars. “It will not be possible for you here in America to obtain the material for important researches; but—I give you the two Americas!”[1] Mason’s experience is indicative of the sense of pioneering and adventure linked to the expansion westward. Studying the Americas was something American scientists were uniquely well positioned to do. Moreover, in the years following the Civil War, Washington had become an intellectual center of consequence, and the government was a major force in the scientific field. During this time, a great diversity of forums for discussion emerged, including the philosophical, literary, anthropological, and biological societies of Washington.[2]

Even prior to the Civil War, there had been a significant increase in the number of America-related artifacts in the United States National Museum with the transfer in 1857 of the Patent Office collections, which spotlighted American inventiveness and progress in science. Another major expansion came after the 1876 Centennial Exposition, when some 48 freight cars of objects came to Washington. Then an act of Congress in June 1880 clarified and bolstered the relationship between the increase of knowledge through government-sponsored research and the diffusion of knowledge through the museum’s exhibitions, publications, and public programs by legislating that the material findings deriving from such research should be preserved in perpetuity in order for them to be used for further research and education.[3] Thus the Smithsonian became known both as the “nation’s attic” and as a significant source of technical expertise in a wide diversity of fields. In addition, a new allied entity, the Bureau of American Ethnology—the agency established to be responsible for all of the anthropological work of the four major surveys of the trans-Mississippi region—had come under the aegis of the Smithsonian Institution in 1879.

There was another change in the post-Civil War era that made the climate at the Smithsonian conducive to accepting a proposal to study religion. There was a sense that the museum had an important role to play in popular education, particularly in imparting moral lessons. Heated arguments over the true mission of the museum led even Joseph Henry, who had for so long maintained the importance of the supremacy of research over exhibitions, to realize how influential museums could be in popular education. The idea that museums should set standards and teach morality provided a logical link to the study of religion. As George Brown Goode so often said:

The Exhibition of the future will be an exhibition of ideas rather than of objects, and nothing will be deemed worthy of admission to its hall which has not some living, inspiring thought behind it, and which is not capable of teaching a valuable lesson.[4]

In addition, a Protestant revival took root in late-nineteenth-century America as a reaction to the perceived growth of secularism in the country. This renewed public interest in religion provided the Department of Anthropology with yet another opportunity to “enlighten” the public, as Goode hoped to do. So the climate was right for the study of religion in general, but without an advocate for creating a department of religion and structuring it around a focus on comparative religion, such a department might never have materialized.

Given the overwhelming Protestant character of the Smithsonian at the time, if Cyrus Adler had not been the architect of the new department, it is much more likely that any exhibitions on religion would have focused on Christianity; there was no compelling reason to do otherwise. If Goode and the others had determined to focus on the history of religion, the framework could have begun with Christianity. After all, using Adler’s own logic of proceeding from the known to the unknown in the study of religion, Christianity was really more known to the average visitor, and Judaism easily could have been addressed by reference to the Old Testament. Islam probably would not have been included at all, as it was not considered to be part of Western civilization; Islam was about “Orientalism,” about which there was a fascination but also a sense of disdain. Then too, a completely different model could have been selected, such as Francis Greenwood Peabody’s museum collection at Harvard, which was related to the social ethics movement.[5] This social reform model would have corresponded well with Goode’s philosophy and his commitment to moral education in the museum, and it certainly would have meshed with the religious orientation of the vast majority of the museum’s audience.

Despite the research focus on America, when Cyrus Adler appeared at the Smithsonian with proper academic credentials in Semitics and suggested that he help form a collection of casts of Near Eastern antiquities, there was no reason not to accept his offer. In any event, this project had nothing to do with the general study of religion or specifically with collecting Jewish ceremonial objects. Significantly, what Mason was allowing Adler to do was very typical of the times, for many specialists, including amateur collectors, volunteered their services as honorary curators to build up collections. After all, Mason did have his own affinity for studying the material. Also, there was a curiosity about the new archaeological finds in the Near East. Moreover, because Adler was suggesting the creation of a collection of study casts, the United States National Museum could establish itself as a center of learning and a repository for future gifts without making a commitment to any serious investigation, which would require sponsoring its own expeditions. Indeed, though his mentor, Paul Haupt, wanted to dig in Mesopotamia, Adler diplomatically suggested that the expedition be carried out by the University Museum at the University of Pennsylvania, which it ultimately was.

Although it is unlikely that Adler initially had any grand scheme for bringing Judaism to the National Museum, he did immediately begin acquiring Judaica as if it was self-evident that there was a link between the Bible and contemporary Jewish practice. It does seem reasonable that the early collecting of Judaica was motivated not only by Adler’s conviction that the continuity of Judaism could be demonstrated by the link between ancient beliefs and contemporary celebration but also by the idea that Jewish ceremonial objects could therefore be used to illustrate an exhibition on the ancient Near East. After all, what he really knew about Judaism was either text-based or what he had experienced at the celebrations in his home and in his synagogue, which confirmed his idea that there were direct links between the Bible and its ritual as celebrated by contemporary Jews. Moreover, the very first items he acquired did directly relate to ancient practice—a shofar is an ancient musical instrument, an omer calendar is used to count the days between Passover and Shavuot, and the circumcision cup and knife directly relate to the covenant of Abraham. Of course, even from the outset, Adler believed that this “natural” connection of the Bible to contemporary Jews would serve as a counterbalance to age-old anti-Semitism.

Once Adler did begin a collection of Jewish ceremonial objects, he clearly felt the need to broaden the theoretical framework of his acquisitions. In his retrospective writings, Adler suggested that both Mason and Goode, having been influenced by the Musée Guimet, recommended that the museum begin acquiring objects of other religions, so as to establish a department of comparative religion. It is difficult to get a clear picture of the chronology of the department’s development because of different nuances in the stories written by Adler in several publications. However, what seems to have been the real turning point for Adler in terms of creating a true plan to collect objects to be used in exhibitions on comparative religion (as opposed to simply collecting Judaica to complement Bible studies) was his trip to the Near East on behalf of the World’s Columbian Exposition. Perhaps even more important were his stops along the way in Europe.

There were several key factors that seem to have led to Adler’s becoming proactive on behalf of his cultural politics. The first was that the 15 months of travel were a period of tremendous personal growth. When Adler left the United States, he was only 27 years old. Though his family background and his academic training gave him a substantial measure of sophistication, what he gained on his trip was savoir-faire. He had taken on a tremendous responsibility in agreeing to coordinate the Near Eastern exhibits, which probably was a much more complicated task than he ever could have imagined. Under very difficult circumstances, he learned what it took to get things done, and his natural proclivities toward diplomacy were tested, developed, and seasoned. He learned lifelong lessons that would serve him in good stead for the many facets of his remarkable career in the museum world and the academic sphere and as an advocate for Jews and Judaism.

It is most fortunate that Adler left an incredible record of his experiences through almost daily missives to his mother. Through these letters it is possible to gain insight into his personal responses: the excitement of being in such cosmopolitan cities for the first time; his reactions to the various personalities he met and his candid descriptions of how he had to conduct himself because of his position; his careful balancing act in separating his work for the exposition from his involvement with Jewish communities.

In addition to the letters, Adler also kept some personal notes in a diary, though they are not very complete. In the privacy of those entries, it seems as if he was testing his wings as a museum professional. He jotted down his appraisals not only of the collections but also of the exhibition installations as well, always mentioning the labels and evaluating how “scientific” the approach was. Clearly his mentor, Goode, was ever-present. Through the diary and the letters it is also evident that he soon came to realize that in terms of “Oriental antiquities,” the United States National Museum could never compete with European and Near Eastern museums. Though he still would encourage the use of study casts for exhibition purposes, the original artifacts made a deep impression. The most telling comment concerns a newly discovered sarcophagus he saw at the Imperial Museum in Constantinople that completely changed his impression of antique art—not only by its carving, with each figure like an individual sculpture, but by the fact that it was decorated in vivid color.[6] A white casting could never convey the same aesthetic power.

Adler also had an opportunity to visit the Musée Guimet in Paris, which had been so highly praised by Mason and Goode. Though he much admired the collections, from his personal perspective the focus on the “exotic” religions of the Far East was deficient, as was the organization of installation, which was by geographic region. For Adler, it was more important to highlight religions that contributed to Western civilization. As a committed Jew, his approach would logically and triumphally begin at the beginning with Judaism, then continue on to the daughter religions of Islam and Christianity.

The trip to the Near Eastern countries was also an eye-opener for Adler in terms of what “Orientalism” was really about. Near Eastern culture still held a tremendous fascination for him, but after coming back to the United States he distanced himself from his own work when his educational exhibits became “shows.” In the course of the negotiations, he learned a hard lesson about how viable an academic approach really was when it came to real people and their agendas—both those of the fair’s managers and those of the Near Eastern participants. “Keep your eyes open” became his byword. It was also somewhat of a surprise to him how he personally responded to Jewish life in the different communities. He saw the Jewish customs of the Near East as “interesting”; he was not really so much a participant as an observer. For him Near Eastern Jews were sometimes picturesque and surely to be respected, but they were definitely the “other,” and he did not feel completely sanguine about his reaction.

The place where Adler really did feel at home was London. He was very impressed with the people he met and especially with the institutions developed by the Jewish community there. He became a true Anglophile: to him the English way represented the height of civilization. The activities and principles of his English coreligionists confirmed Adler’s belief that promoting knowledge about the Jews, through the “scientific study of Judaism,” would lead to less prejudice.[7] The need for scientific study of Judaism in America became a critical theme for him.

The Anglo-Jewish Historical Exhibition, which had been held in London in 1887, was a significant model for him. The monumental exhibition provided Adler with a way to bridge his own two worlds: secular society, as represented by the United States National Museum, and Judaism. The Anglo-Jewish Historical Exhibition provided an excellent prototype for Adler’s efforts, with a well-thought-out, well-organized system of classification and the twin goals of documenting Anglo-Jewish experience and demonstrating the patriotism of English Jews. However, Adler had a different strategy than did the English. For him, study of Judaism in a nonsectarian way, by scientists, was the only means to achieve success in secular America. He shared with the English Jews the aims of the Wissenschaft des Judentums, but the English Jews were pursuing their projects as Jews studying Jews. Adler developed the personal conviction that in order for Jews to achieve success in secular America, the scientific study of Judaism could not be an exclusively Jewish agenda. His position at the Smithsonian gave him the perfect opportunity to give it a try.

When Adler returned to the United States, he began his quest. He addressed his agenda through two projects that he put into action almost immediately. For the United States National Museum, he renewed the concept of building a department of comparative religion, which would place Judaism in the context of other religions and study it scientifically at a secular institution. Adler was anxious to begin this program with an exhibition at the 1893 World’s Columbian Exposition, an international fair, unlike the Jewish-sponsored Anglo-Jewish Historical Exhibition.

Adler worked very hard at making this exhibition happen, though his proposal was made very late in the planning stages of the exposition. Here Adler’s diplomatic skills came to the fore, and personalities really came into play, Adler followed bureaucratic procedure precisely in petitioning for his plan. But he was also very close to Goode and quickly became indispensable to Secretary Langley, who appointed him the Smithsonian’s librarian, the very post Langley had originally held when he came to the United States National Museum. Adler could demonstrate that, given the number of Bible students in the country at the time, it was appropriate to include religion in the government exhibition at the World’s Fair and that if there was going to be an exhibition on religion, it should be comparative in nature. The exhibit would meet “scientific” criteria and, in contrast to previous studies of religion, which had focused on the exotic, would concentrate on those religions that influenced Western civilization.

It is also likely that Adler’s plan was appealing because it reinforced the operative cultural politics in the United States at the time, which assumed the supremacy of Western culture and its march toward utopian civilization. The approach of the United States National Museum, as epitomized in the work and writings of George Brown Goode, was in consonance with this world view, and the World’s Columbian Exposition was the archetypal representation of this politics. Of course, museum officials believed that their efforts were about education, not supremacy over the exotic “other.”

Adler, responsible for the living ethnographic exhibits from the Near East on the Midway, was right in the thick of things. He quickly found a way to manipulate the cultural politics of both sides in negotiating the shows while in the Near East, and once he was back in the United States, he wanted to move on. Adler’s plan for an exhibition on objects of religious ceremonial at the exposition was, of course, accepted, and fortuitously the Benguiat Collection of Jewish ceremonial objects became available on loan. Because the Benguiat Collection was formed in the Near East, it made it possible for Adler to maintain his theme of continuity between biblical times and current practices. Because it was a fairly comprehensive collection in terms of Jewish celebration, Adler was able to use it as representative of his classification scheme for the proper study of each religion.

The second manifestation of Adler’s proactive approach was his initiative to establish the American Jewish Historical Society. Within a month of his return in the winter of 1892, Adler sent a circular to 150 people proposing the formation of such a society, which elicited a great response.[8] The objective, as stated in the original statement of purpose, was “to collect and publish material bearing upon the history of the country,” the focus, of course, being on Jewish contributions and achievements, although the statement was carefully worded to indicate that the objectives were “not sectarian but American.”[9] Indeed, in speaking of the successes of the American Jewish Historical Society on the occasion of its 25th anniversary, Adler stressed the significance of its achievements, which, he said,

have a profound importance for the Jews of America both for a popular understanding on their part of themselves and for a proper presentation of their record to the world al large. ... No body of people can ever have a secure future or a self-respecting present who does not understand and reverence their own part.[10]

In terms of his work as a curator, the dozen years Adler spent at the Smithsonian after the World’s Columbian Exposition were like a coda. The collections of religion grew, and he was involved in several major exhibitions even though much of his time was taken up by his responsibilities as librarian and in attending to the many tasks assigned to him by Secretary Langley. Moreover, after 1902 he was only at the Smithsonian half time, having taken on the administrative position of acting president of the Jewish Theological Seminary. Yet he had accomplished his goal. The serendipitous confluence of Adler’s personal quest to establish the study of Judaism in a secular sphere and dispel age-old stereotypes with the commitment of the United States National Museum to popular education with a moral component brought the Judaica collection into being in the context of comparative religion.

Once Cyrus Adler left the Smithsonian, the collections he had formed were taken over by a caretaker administration, and the exhibit of Judaica remained basically unchanged until the Benguiat Collection, which was still only on loan, was deaccessioned, in 1924. The designated caretaker, Immanuel Casanowicz, was a devoted academic, and he spent his time researching the religions of the world. For years Casanowicz worked on his magnum opus, “Collections of Objects of Religious Ceremonial in the United States National Museum,” which was published posthumously. The success of this volume is that it contains descriptive treatments of each religion as a separate entity and in a nonsectarian fashion, which met one of Adler’s original goals. Adler’s second intent, the comparative aspect, never materialized in any significant way.

Perhaps the greatest irony of the Smithsonian Judaica Collection is that the large majority of objects was brought together by Ephraim Deinard, a man whom Cyrus Adler found quite difficult. What they both shared was an intense commitment to the scientific study of Judaism, but Adler could never abide Deinard’s acquisition methods and found him an irascible personality. It is also ironic that Deinard, a bibliophile and book dealer, probably began collecting ceremonial objects because of his belief that Adler would acquire them for the Smithsonian. In fact, Adler did buy a group of objects from Deinard for the Smithsonian in 1902. It seems that Deinard developed his own agenda for Judaica at the Smithsonian, and once he began acquiring ceremonial objects, he tried to put together a “cradle-to-grave” collection. Adler, in his continuing role as consultant to the museum, admonished the administration not to “buy a pig in a poke,” but Deinard left his collection on deposit in the 1920s, and once the Benguiat Collection was removed, objects from Deinard’s collection were used to replace them in the Judaica exhibit. The rationale on the part of the museum was that it was important to maintain the exhibit to keep Bible students happy; here too Adler’s early theme persisted.

Deinard’s cultural politics as a book dealer were, in the spirit of Wissenschaft des Judentums, to bring “authentic” Judaism to the public by forming collections of Hebraica and Judaica at major university libraries and even the Library of Congress. In this realm he made a tremendous contribution to Jewish culture in America. Although he doubtless had the same aim in mind for the Smithsonian Institution, he did not have the same level of knowledge about ceremonial objects, and for that reason the quality of the collection is mixed. However, because of his “salvage” methods, acquiring whole lots of similar types of object, and because of the early date at which he was collecting, he did bring together a number of rare and significant items.

After Casanowicz died, the Division of Historic Religions ceased to function as an independent entity. There was no particular interest in the study of religion, and acquisitions of Judaica came in only as parts of large collections, such as the Hanukkah lamps in the Hillyer Collection of Heating and Lighting Devices. No further research was done. In fact, a sack of important documents that was part of the 1927 Deinard deposit, made just prior to Casanowicz’s death, remained unopened and uncataloged from 1927 until the 1970s. The dismal state of affairs in the mid-1930s was described by a young researcher who had learned of the collection and thought he might like to work on it. He wrote of the collection as lying in a “heap” in the “storage bins” with minimal interest on the part of the person designated to assist him. In fact, when he found a megillah scroll he wanted to study, he was told he could take it home and bring it back when he was finished with his investigations.[11] In the mid-1950s, when Deinard’s heirs were in the process of donating the collection, a local rabbi, Karl Darmstadter, came to the Smithsonian to provide a professional opinion even though he was not an expert in Judaic material culture.

That these were dormant years for the Judaica at the Smithsonian is not startling, for the same was true even in Jewish museums. After Hebrew Union College purchased the renowned collection of Salli Kirschstein in 1926[12] and the Jewish Museum of the Jewish Theological Seminary installed its first major exhibit in 1931, there was very little activity in this sphere. Even in the aftermath of the Holocaust, except for the rescue efforts of the Jewish Cultural Reconstruction,[13] it was only at the Jewish Museum in New York that there was a highly active acquisition and exhibition program.

In the mid-1960s, when the National Museum of Natural History hall “Peoples of Africa and Asia” was being renovated, it was decided to install a case of Judaica, to contain about 20 items. At that time, Dr. Eugene Knez, an associate curator in the Division of Ethnology, was responsible for developing the exhibit. Adler’s old formulation was still operative in Knez’s perspective: Judaica was shown as part of the cultural mosaic of the Near East, and the ceremonial objects were intended to introduce the visitor to contemporary Jewish practice.[14] Although new acquisitions had not been sought by the museum in many years, the Smithsonian acquired a group of modem ceremonial objects, which were included in the exhibit. In 1964 the Judaica collection was divided, and about two-thirds were transferred to the new National Museum of History and Technology as part of a new Division of Cultural History, developed by Malcolm Watkins. Watkins had no special interest in the Judaica; the objects selected for the move were simply those that had originated in Europe, whereas those designated as being from the Near East remained. Unfortunately, because Deinard had shipped many of the objects (including a number of European objects) from the Near East, the provenance of many of the objects was incorrectly listed, and the lack of subsequent research compounded the original error.

The Smithsonian’s Judaica collection enjoyed a renaissance beginning in the 1970s. Once again there was a fortuitous confluence of interests. At the National Museum of American History there was a new Division of Ethnic and Western Cultures, established by Richard Ahlborn. The Judaica collection, among many others, came into his area of responsibility, and he actively encouraged young curators, such as Grossman, to use these collections for research and exhibition. In addition, in those years an interest in seeking one’s ethnic identity was manifest in many ways in American society and led to the formation of a myriad of ethnic museums, including numerous Jewish museums.[15] At the same time there was renewed academic interest in the “scientific” study of Judaism, with numerous courses being developed on the university level. At the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, a Center for Jewish Art was established, and it spearheaded the effort to document artifacts of the Jewish cultural heritage throughout the world, developing a standardized cataloging system to do so.

During the past 20 years, renewed study of the Smithsonian’s Judaica collection has made it increasingly more available for researchers and the general public alike. Directed by Richard Ahlborn and supported by curators Gus Van Beek and Paul Taylor at the National Museum of Natural History, the Smithsonian Judaica Project, formally established in the 1980s, made possible the documentation of the entire collection using the International Index of Jewish Art system. Just as Cyrus Adler had hoped, objects of Jewish ceremonial art have taken their place among the artifacts of other ethnic groups in major exhibitions at the Smithsonian (including “A Nation of Nations,” which was developed in honor of the Bicentennial in 1976) and in dozens of other exhibitions in museums throughout the United States. In an age of multiculturalism, when cultural politics is often about seeking pride in one’s own ethnicity and respecting and finding parallels in the experiences of members of different culture, so that no one is the “other,” the cultural model echoes what Cyrus Adler believed was true and what he tried to achieve: the idea that the unbiased study of one heritage among others benefits them all.

Both cultural politics and cultural models do change over time and reflect new voices of authority. From an expression of the Wissenschaft des Judentums in the late nineteenth century to issues of ethnic identity in the late twentieth century, the Smithsonian s Judaica collection has mirrored the climate of the times in both the American Jewish community and the larger society. Yet even as cultural politics and cultural models change, the Judaica collection remains a vital resource to be thoughtfully analyzed and interpreted anew in each generation.

Appendices

I. American Jewish Historical Exhibition: Schedule of Objects

Joseph Jacobs and Cyrus Adler were responsible for developing this very comprehensive plan for an American Jewish Historical Exhibition, which was never realized.

AMERICAN JEWISH HISTORICAL EXHIBITION.

SCHEDULE OF OBJECTS.

SECTION A. AMERICAN JEWISH HISTORY.

CLASS I.—HISTORIC RELICS.

A.

Relics and Records (or photographs and descriptions) relating to the participation of the Jews in the Discovery of America.

B.

Inquisition Records.

C.

Title-deeds of Earliest Land and Property Holders.

D.

Historical Records in MS. (a) General, (b) Synagogal, Archives.

E.

Letters and Autographs of Distinguished Americans about Jews.

F.

Lists and Mementos of Jews prominent in American Jewish History: MSS., Autographs, Coat of Arms, Pedigrees.

G.

Records of Jews (not now living), who have received marks of distinction in America, medals for bravery, commissions, diplomas, etc.

H.

Petitions and Communications to State and National Legislatures, on behalf of Jewish Institutions.

CLASS II.—PORTRAITS AND PRINTS.

I.

Portraits and Prints of persons prominent in American Jewish History, Rabbis, Soldiers, Patriots, Public Officials, Professors, Writers, Artists, etc.

J.

Portraits and Prints of Members of old Jewish Families.

K.

Portraits and Prints of noted Foreign Jews who have temporarily visited America.

L.

Pictures Illustrating Jewish Family Life, Ceremonies, etc.

M.

Photographs and Prints of American Jewish Graves, Cemetaries, and Mausolea.

N.

Pictures, photographs, models, and drawings of synagogues, and places of interest in American Jewish History.

O.

Pictures, Prints, Bookplates, Caricatures, Curiosities, etc.

CLASS III.—BOOKS, ETC.

P.

Pamphlets and Books bearing upon American Jewish History; Complete Files of Periodicals, Almanacs, Illuminated and Other Curious Books, etc.

Q.

Writings of American Jews, (a) on General Topics, (b) on Jewish subjects including Sermons, Prayerbooks, Almanacs, etc.

R.

Map of United States, indicating Jewish Congregations past and present; Map of North and South America, showing distribution of Jewish population.

S.

Obituaries and Newspaper Items of Jewish Interest; Broadsheets, Playbills, Programme of Ceremonies.

T.

Histories and Records of Jewish Congregations and of Philanthropic and Educational Institutions of America, Reports and Statistical Tables, Conferences of Jewish Rabbis.

SECTION B. ECCLESIASTICAL ART.

U.

Synagogue Objects: Ark of Law and Curtain for same, Perpetual Lamp, Lavers for Priests, Scrolls of Law with appurtenances, Mantle Crown, Pointer etc., Synagogue Decoration, ’Omer Board.

V.

Home Objects, Mezuzah, and Mizrach, Sabbath Lamp, Kiddush Cup, Passover Requisites, Sukkah, Megillot.

W.

Personal Objects: Talit, Tefilin, Betrothal and Wedding Ring, Sargenes, Kemoit or Amulets.

X.

Ancient and Modern Synagogue Music.

SECTION C. ANTIQUITIES.
(Not confined to the United States.)

Y.

Manuscripts and Books, Inscriptions and Autographs, Facsimiles and Views, Illuminations and Illustrations.

Z.

Jewish Seals, Medals, Coins, Rings, etc.

&c.

Palestinian Objects.

II. Classification Used in the Anglo-Jewish Historical Exhibition

The Anglo-Jewish Historical Exhibition was a model for Adler in terms of technical organization. The methodology they used, which was descriptive rather than interpretive, corresponded well to Adler’s approach to the presentation of religion.

III. Religious Ceremonials Exhibition at the World’s Columbian Exposition

(World’s Columbian Exposition, 1893 Official Catalog, United States Government Building)

The official guide provided a summary of the objects on exhibit. Judaism clearly had the most prominence in terms of the number of items.

SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION AND NATIONAL MUSEUM. 141

Exhibit

No.

137.  Exhibits representing the flint quarries of Flint Ridge, Licking County, Ohio, and the manufacture of knives, spears and arrow heads.

138.  An exhibit representing the quarrying and shaping of rhyolite by the ancient inhabitants of Pennsylvania.

139.  Specimens illustrating the use of flint nodules in implement-making by tribes of Texas.

140.  Specimens, photographs and maps, showing the aboriginal manufacture of soapstone utensils in the District of Columbia.

141.  Collections from the ancient copper mines of Isle Royale, Lake Superior, supplemented by photographs, maps and drawings.

142.  An exhibit representing the sacred pipestone quarries of Southwestern Minnesota.

143.  A collection representing ancient mica mining in North Carolina.

144.  Costumed figures—two negro workmen engaged in breaking up and flaking flint.

RELIGIOUS CEREMONIALS.

This exhibit is limited to a selection from the religions of the nations inhabiting the Mediterranean basin, with special regard to the ceremonies as forming the starting point f6r a comparative study of religions.

The exhibit comprises the following religions: Assyro-Babylonian, Jewish, Mohammedan, Greek, Roman and Oriental Christian.

Assyro-Babylonian Religion.

145.  Bas-reliefs (casts) representing divinities and worshippers.

146.  Seals (casts) engraved with representations of mythological and religious scenes.

147.  Photographs of divinities, and scenes of worship.

Jewish Religion.

148.  Objects used in the service of the Synagogue.

149.  Sacred books. Manuscripts of the Law (Pentateuch), of the book of Esther.

150.  Ornaments, veils and curtains of the Holy Ark, mantles and covers for the law; breastplates, bells, pointers, tallith and Orba Kanfot.

151.  Outfit of the worshipper: Prayer, mantle, phylacteries, and prayer books.

152.  Objects used on sacred occasions.

153.  Sabbath—Kiddush cloth, habdalah set, lamps.

154.  Passover—Complete set of the utensils of the passover meal, comprising glasses, dishes, cups, saucers, serviettes and covers. The liturgy of passover evening.

155.  New Year’s day and day of atonement: Cornets (shofars). Liturgies of the Beni-Israel (Jews of Bombay in the Marathi language).

156.  Feasts of tabernacles: Curtain of booth, palm-branch (lulab) and citron (ethrog).

157.  Objects used on special occasions: Circumcision—Knife and cup. Consecration of child. Siyurm. Marriage—wedding rings, marriage contracts. Omer tablet. Other religious observances. Knife used for slaughtering animals. Hanukah (feast of dedication) Lamps. Mezuzah—tablet on the door post. Amulets. Mizrach.

157a. Graphic illustrations: Ceremonies and implements of the synagogue. Ceremonies of festal days. Domestic ceremonies. Photographs of synagogues. Photographs of Jewish rabbis. Photographs of Samontan pentateuchs and other Mss.

Mohammedan religion.

158.  Objects used in the mosque: Koran, reading stand, crescent, lamps, ewer and basin for ablutions. Dress and paraphernalia of religious persons. Costume of Iman and Dervish. Dervish staff, drum and almo. Vessel, Amulets. Set of photographs of Mecca and the pilgrims. Photographs of Mosques, fountains, religious persons and feasts, and burial places.

Greek religion.

159.  Objects of worship. Principal divinities. Minor or secondary deities. Mythological scenes. Religious practice. Festal scenes and processions. Altar and sacrifices. Votive tablets. Sepulchral reliefs. Graphic illustration: Picart plates representing divinities, priests, altars, and other utensils of worship and various religious scenes.

Roman religion.

160.  Objects of worship. Principal divinities. Minor or secondary deities Tombstone.

Oriental Christian religion.

161.  Armenian, Coptic, Ethiopian and Greek ceremonial vessels, votives, ikons, manuscripts, etc.

MAMMALS.

The exhibits of Mammals consist of four series of objects as follows:

162.  A systematic series, consisting of mounted specimens, representing the families of American Mammals. Except in a few cases, all the American genera in each family are represented.

The families are as follows:

Cebidæ—The American Monkeys. Hapalidæ—The Marmosets. Felidæ— The Cats. Canidæ—The Dogs. Mustelidæ—The Weasels. Ursidæ— The Bears. Procyonidæ—The Raccoons. Otariidæ—The Sea-Lions. Phocidæ—The Seals. Odobaenidæ—The Walruses. Camelidæ—The Camels and Llamas. Bovidæ—The Cattle. Antilocapridæ—The Prong-horn Antelopes. Cervidæ—The Deer. Dicotylidæ—The Peccaries. Tapiridæ—The Tapirs. Trichechidæ—The Manatees. Delphinidæ—The Dolphins. Ziphiidæ—The Bottle-nosed Whales. Physe-teridæ—The Sperm Whales. Balaenidæ—The Whalebone Whales. Phyllostomidæ—The Leaf-nosed Bats. Emballonuridæ—The Freetailed Bats. Vespertilionidæ—The Typical Bats. Talpidæ—The Moles. Soricidæ—The Shrews. Centetidæ—The Tenrecs and

IV. “Exhibit of Religious Ceremonials”
New York Evening Post, 6 September 1894

A copy of this review was appended to Cyrus Adler’s paper “Museum Collections to Illustrate Religious History and Ceremonies,” which was presented at the International Congress of Anthropology, held at the World’s Columbian Exposition.

REPORT OP NATIONAL MUSEUM, 1893.

APPENDIX IV.

The following account of the exhibit appeared in the New York Evening Post, September 9,1894:

To students of religions ceremonial an exhibit made by the Smithsonian Institution in the Government Building will prove of absorbing interest. Placed in a small room on the south side of the building, it might escape notice by casual observers; but while not extensive, being only the nucleus of a collection recently commenced, it comprehends a rather large quantity of objects used in the Jewish, Greek, Mohammedan, and Assyro-Babylonian religions, and a great many copies of ancient statues and bas-reliefs representing characters and scenes from the Roman and Greek mythology. For comparative study it ofters.an opportunity truly rare, as it is the only collection of the kind in the world except that of the Royal Museum at Berlin.

In the first two cases are articles, ancient and modern, used by the Jews in the religious observances of the synagogue and household. Among these are scrolls of the law or Torah wrapped in embroidered velvet cloth with silver-worked belt and silver bells on the rollers; also a manuscript copy of the Book of Esther, inserted in a revolving silver case, with illuminations illustrating the chief events narrated in the book. The Book of Esther, generally called Megillath Esther (roll of Esther), is read in the synagogue in the feast of Purim on the 15th of Adar (March-April), which was established to commemorate the deliverance of the Jews from the machinations of Haman. It is one of the five rolls read on various occasions in the synagogue, the others being the Song of Solomon, Ruth, Ecclesiastes, and Lamentations. There are several objects connected with the Passover meal or seder. Among these are brass and pewter plates for holding the green herbs, and twelve wine glasses with engravings upon them representing human life. During the seder, each person is supposed to drink of four cups of wine, and the glasses are refilled at stated parts of the service, one cup being set apart for the prophet Elijah, the expected herald of the Messiah.

Of especial interest is a delicately wrought silver spice box, supposed to have been manufactured in Wiirtemberg about 1740. This box, filled with spice, is used in the Jewish service known as Habdalah (or separation), the service of the conclusion of the Sabbath. There is a tradition that at the beginning of the Sabbath a special angel accompanies the worshiper from the synagogue and remains with him until the holy day is ended. The departure of the angel leaves the man faint, and the spices are intended to restore him. The objects used in this service are a cup of wine, the spice box, and a candle. A blessing is first said over the wine, then over spices, and lastly over the light, the candle being then extinguished by having wine poured upon it.

A Jewish marriage contract is exhibited, dated at Rome in the year of creation 5576 (1816). In the kethubah or marriage contract the obligations of the husband to love, honor, and provide becomingly for his wife are set forth, and also the amount of dowry allowed to the bride. The minimum of the dowry is fixed by the law at 200 shekels (about $50) for a virgin and 100 shekels for a widow or divorced woman. To this is usually added what the bride has received from her parents and what the husband settles voluntarily, all of which she gets in case of the death of her husband or of divorce. The established form of the kethubah usually commences “Under good auspices and with good luck to bridegroom and bride, whoso findeth a wife findeth a good thing and obtaineth favor of the Lord.” The contract exhibited is decorated around the margin with symbolical figures, and contains the liturgy of the wedding ceremony and passages from the Bible and the Talmud The Jewish marriage is made valid by the bridegroom’s putting a ring on the hand of the bride while saying the words, “Behold thou art wedded to me according to the law of Moses and Israel.” These are the only words uttered by either bride or groom.

COLLECTIONS OP RELIGIOUS CEREMONIALS.

Next to the contract a wedding ring of odd design in gold is shown. Against the back of the first case is a veil of the Holy Ark, .wade in Padua, Italy, in 1736, of yellow silk, richly embroidered in silver, gold, and silk, with the beginning of the ten commandments beautifully worked in gold. In the Holy Ark are kept the scrolls of the |aw or the Pentateuch, written on parchment, for use in the services of the synagogue. The Holy Ark, being the most important object in the synagogue, is richly adorned, and whenever opened the congregation rises in reverence, for it contains the Law of God. There is also another veil of blue silk elaborately decorated in gold.

In the same case are two interesting tapestries in green and white, supposed to have been made in England in the thirteenth century. One represents the story of David and Bathsheba and the other that of David and Goliath. A knife and cup used in the rite of circumcision are exhibited, and a number of amulets, or charms, such as are still used and prized among the Eastern Jews; cushions, heavily embroidered in silver, used at the Passover meal; prayer books in Dutch and Spanish, printed at Amsterdam early in the eighteenth century, and a Jewish horn, or shofar, usually made from a ram’s horn and employed in the ceremonial on various solemn occasions—notably New Year’s Day, the first of the month of Tishri (September-October), and Atonement Day, 10th of Tishri. The long peculiar knife used for the slaughter of animals is also seen. The killing of animals for food is performed by a person especially trained and authorized. After the throat is cut the internal organs are examined for traces of disease, and during each act short prayers are recited. If there be a notch in the knife or trace of disease found, the animal is (terefa) unfit to be eaten.

Lamps used at the feast of Hanuka are another evidence of the elaborate ceremomal of the Jewish religion. The lamps, eight in number, joined, are of ancient Roman design. This feast is held in remembrance of the rededication of the temple after its defilement by Antiochus Epiphanes, 169 B. C. Josephus records that it was a feast of lights. The celebration lasted throughout eight days, on the first night one light being lit, on the second two lights, etc. Examples of phylacteries, or tefillin, are also shown as used by the Jews at morning prayers, except on Saturdays. These objects are employed in the Jewish ritual in pursuance of the command that the word of God should be “a sign upon thy hand and for frontlets between thy eyes.” They consist of parchment cases containing the passages Deuteronomy vi, 4-9, and xi, 13-21, written on slips of parchment attached to leather straps for binding on the forehead and left arm.

Next to the Jewish articles comes a case containing a variety of articles explanatory of the form of worship in the Greek Church, of which the Czars of all the Russias have since Peter the Great been the head. The full title of the Greek Church is the Holy Oriental Orthodox Catholic Apostolic Church. The title Holy Catholic Apostolic, derived from the Nicene Creed, is also claimed by the Roman Church in an exclusive sense. The numerical strength of the Greek Church is estimated at about 80,000,000, being less than half as large as the Roman Catholic membership. The doctrine of the Greek Church is substantially like the Roman, though the government is a patriarchal oligarchy, while the Roman is a papal monarchy. Perhaps the most valuable relic in this collection is a Russian icon set in a gold frame studded with pearls and precious stones. The lids are decorated with scenes from the lives of Christ and Mary. The emeralds, ruby spinels, and garnets are all genuine and very old, dating probably from the eleventh or twelfth century, if not earlier, as they are all drilled and were evidently used for some other purpose before they were set in the icon. This piece was bought at Nizhni Novgorod for Tiffany & Co. in 1891, and is said to be the finest icon in the United States. There are also several other icons, one very interesting one showing painted figures of Cosmos and Damianus, the two brothers who died as martyrs in the persecutions organized by the Emperor Diocletian between 303 and 311 A. D. A curious object is a gilded bronze crown which at one time decorated an image in the demolished church of St. Anna, the former nunnery in the old Post street of Prague.

REPORT OF NATIONAL MUSEUM, 1893.

At the back of the cabinet is an eighteenth century cover for a coffin, and an altar cloth of the same period, of brocaded silk. On either side are richly embroidered vestments of the last century, done in white and gold upon a purple background; there are also vestments, such as are worn in the Russian churches to-day. Gongs, scepters, and many other objects explain the ceremonial of the Greek Church.

The Mohammedan forms of worship next claim attention. Prominently displayed in the adjoining cabinet is a Koran stand and a Koran open upon it. The stand is inlaid with mother-of-pearl and tortoise shell; inscribed upon its face is the usual invocation, “In the name of-God,” and at the top edge, the date, A. H. 1210. The Mohammedans treat the Koran with at least great outward veneration. It is always placed upon a high and clean place, and never held or brought in contact with other books or objects. Its reading is preceded by legal ablution and the usual prayer, “I seek protection with God against Satan, the accursed,” after which follows the invocation, “In the name of God the Merciful, the Compassionate.” In the services of the mosque the prayer and invocation are chanted by the imam or leader in prayer. The Koran upon the stand is in a richly illuminated text and binding. Under the Koran stand is displayed the costume of a Persian priest, consisting of vest, inner and outer coat, girdle, stockings, green morocco shoes, etc., also the costume of a dancing dervish. The different orders of dervishes are distinguished by their dress, chiefly the cap (taj), the most common being made of felt in the shape of a cone. By these is a dervish drum used at festivals by the Egyptian dervishes, and also employed by the criers who go about the streets at night during Ramadan reciting prayers. The instrument, of a kettledrum order, is held in the left hand and beaten with a small leather strap.

There is no sacerdotal class in the Mohammedan religion, but each mosque has its imam, properly “leader,” who reads the Koran and leads in prayer in public service. In the larger mosques there are usually two imams, one whose duty it is to lead the prayers and preach the sermon on Friday, the Mohammedan Sunday, and the other who recites the five daily prayers in the mosque. In most of the smaller mosques the offices are performed by the same person ; each mosque has also one or more muezzins who call the faithful to prayer from the minaret.

In the back of the case are hung many silver cases for charms against evil spirits, witchcraft, or disease, a belief in the efficacy of these charms being very general throughout the East. For this purpose a small copy of the whole or certain portions of the Koran is usually employed. This cabinet contains miniature Korans, silver Koran cases, and a quantity of other accessories to the Mohammedan ceremonial.

Another case is devoted to the Assyro-Babylonian religion, and contains several bas-reliefs and many seal cylinders in cast. A sacrificial dish, the original of which is m the Royal Museum of Berlin, is adorned on the four corners with the head of a bull, an animal much venerated by the Assyro-Babylonians, and engraved upon the sides are various symbols and figures. One monument represents Shamash, the God of the Sun, by his symbol, the sun disc. Another shows the head of a priest in bas-relief. According to Diodorus Siculus, the Assyro-Babylonian priests were divided into three grades, the temple priests, who made sacrifices and performed the purification, the expiatory priests, who by conjurations and penitential exercises kept off or-exorcised the evil spirits, and the augurs, who explained portents, interpreted dreams, and divined from the flight of birds. In the back of the case are bas-reliefs representing eagle-headed and winged divinities, and also divinities holding in the hands baskets and five cones. Beyond the Assyro-Babylonian case are others.devoted to Roman and Grecian mythology. These contain the busts and full lengths of the deities familiar to all, but they become especially interesting in this connection. Altogether the collection is very unique and deserving of careful study.

V. Archival Sources

Smithsonian Institution Archives

The following Record Units (RU) were surveyed:

RU 31, “Office of the Secretary, Samuel P Langley, 1891–1906, Incoming Correspondence”, Box 3, Folders 4-17

RU 33, “Office of the Secretary, Joseph Henry, Spencer F. Baird, Samuel P Langley, Outgoing Correspondence, 1865–1891”

RU 45, “Charles D. Walcott”

RU 55, “Assistant Secretary in Charge of the Museum, Richard Rathbun, 1897–1918,” Boxes 1, 15, 16, 19, 20

RU 70, “Exposition Records of the Smithsonian Institution and the United States National Museum, 1873–1939,” Boxes 10, 27, 28, 29, 31, 33, 34, 35, 37, 39, 41, 43, 46, 47, 61, 67, 70, 77, 78

RU 95, “Photographs,” Boxes 1, 9, 13, 15, 16, 50, 53

RU 158, “Curator’s Annual Reports, 1881–1904,” Boxes 3, 5, 24, 31, 33

RU 201, “Assistant Secretary in Charge of the U.S. National Museum, 1875–1902: Letters Received from Departments and Bureaus of the Government and Letters from Officials of the Museum,” Box 11, Folders 3-8, Box 20, Folders 12–15

RU 217, “Smithsonian Library,” Box 3

RU 242, “Adler Correspondence, Department of Biology,” Box 1, Folder 1

RU 7078, “Biographical Information File,” Box 1

RU 305, “Registrar, 1834–1958, with Accretions to 1978,” Box 1048, Ephraim Deinard Accession File 207992

National Museum of Natural History:
Anthropological Archives

The National Anthropological Archives house a variety of materials related to the early collecting of Judaica in the United States National Museum, including papers, correspondence, and reference notes of Cyrus Adler and Immanuel M. Casanowicz. These are all in the Department of Anthropology, Division of Ethnology, Manuscript and Pamphlet File.

Box 5-60, 61: Exhibit labels of Hebrew books

Box 5-62: Activities of F. Petrie relating to ancient Jewish history

Box 5-63: Newspaper articles from the 1880s and 1890s on Jewish activities in Egypt, contemporary research on the Exodus story, archaeological discoveries in Eygpt and the Sudan

Box 5-65: I.M. Casanowicz’s notes on the Greek translation of the Bible

Box 5-66: Notes on a Hebrew manuscript of the Pentateuch from S.S. Howland; Hebrew seals; casts of the “Deluge Tablet” and Lachich Tablet; label for ketubbah (cat. no. 154633)

Box 6-68: Handwritten and typed manuscripts by I.M Casanowicz on: sacrifices; the “Personnel of the Service in the Tabernacle”; the “Mosaic Tabernacle”; “Antiquities of the Bible” (slide lecture); “A Sketch of the Geography of the Holyland”; “A Rapid Sketch of the History of Archaeological Exploration in the Holy Land”

Box 6-71: I.M. Casanowicz’s manuscript on the myth of the Phoenix

Box 8-96: I.M. Casanowicz’s manuscript on Buddhism

Box 8-103: I.M. Casanowicz’s manuscript on calendars

Box 8-111: Clipping from the Sunday Star, Washington, D.C., 19 January 1930, on fragments of the “True Cross” at the USNM; I.M. Casanowicz’s notes for USNM catalogs on the Atlanta Exposition and the Benguiat Collection, and articles he wrote on Jewish subjects and “Oriental Antiquities” during the period 1894–1904

Box 16–219: I.M Casanowicz’s manuscript “The Fish in Cult, Myth, and Symbol”

Box 22–285: Notes by I.M. Casanowicz and others on Hittites

Box 26–396: I.M. Casanowicz’s manuscript on Jainism

Box 32–438: Articles and newspaper clippings relevant to world Judaism

Box 32–440: Articles and curators’ notes on Jews of Palestine, Cochin (India), Tunis, and Great Britain

Box 45b-641: I.M. Casanowicz’s manuscript “Birth of Religion” (12 November 1909)

Box 76–800: Research notes deposited by a few researchers on the Judaica collection

Box 75–796: Religions—notes and correspondence

Box 75–800: Article by M. Fooner on Esther scroll (cat. no. 315395), November 1935; clipping from Harper’s New 315395), November 1935; clipping from Harper’s New Magazine (no date) entitled “The Passion Play in Oberammergau in 1870”; clipping from the London Jewish Chronicle (1 December 1899) on the English Catholic press and the Popes and blood accusations

Box 78–811: Exhibit labels and undated outline of a plan for a book on mythology

Box 77–800: Newspaper clippings from 1887 to 1889 on anti-Jewish incidents

Box 77–829: Newspaper articles from the American press of the 1880s and 1890s relating to Jews, Judaism, and Jewish domestic life

Box 79–830: I.M. Casanowicz’s manuscript on Shinto religion Box 85–959: I.M. Casanowicz’s manuscript on Zoroastrianism

The Library of the Jewish Theological Seminary of America

Boxes 1/17, 1/18: Cyrus Adler Papers. These papers are cited courtesy of the Library of the Jewish Theological Seminary.

The American Jewish Historical Society

Box 1-21: The American Jewish Historical Exhibition. These papers are cited courtesy of the American Jewish Historical Society.

Harvard University Archives

Boxes HUG 1676.582 and HUG 1676.582.2: “Letters to and Letters from Francis Greenwood Peabody Concerning the Social Science Exhibit, 1903—1906”

Additional information is found in UAV 800.157, “Social Ethics Department, Social Museum” (two boxes)

Catalog

Guide to the Catalog

The catalog entries are a representative selection of the Smithsonian Institution’s Judaica collection. A comprehensive database of the collection is included at the end of this publication. Because of the cultural history focus of this catalog, the arrangement of the entries was determined by the date and source of accession of the objects. The organization is chronological, with the exception of the group of objects from the Deinard Collection, which is treated as a whole, though the objects came into the Smithsonian over a 25-year period. Each entry includes descriptive information, as listed below, as well as any available details about the object that are relevant to the history of the Smithsonian’s Judaica collection. In a number of instances, a single entry covers a group of like objects, and the technical catalog data is prefaced with a general statement about the group.

FORM OF A TYPICAL ENTRY

A typical entry comprises the following items in the order listed:

Name or identification of object

Catalog and accession number

Artist or maker (if known)

Origin and date of object

Composition

Dimensions (in centimeters)

Source of acquisition

Negative number

Description

Notes

Bibliography, specifically where the object has been published

TRANSLITERATION, QUOTES, PROPER NAMES, AND DATES

Transliteration of Hebrew and Aramaic follows the rules set in the Encyclopaedia Judaica. Deviation from these rules occurs only to accommodate a more common usage. Names and terms that have entered English usage have been given their most common spellings. Biblical quotes generally are according to the Jewish Publication Society of America editions, except in cases where the translations do not seem to express the intent of the inscription. Liturgical quotes are from the Birnbaum Prayer Books (1978,1985). A glossary of terms used in the entries follows the catalog.

Because the Hebrew year is based on a luni-solar calendar and overlaps the secular calendar, a Hebrew date that is given as only the year, without month and day, sometimes may fall in either of two secular-calendar years; such dates are given in the text as, for example, 1174–1175.

ABBREVIATIONS FOR OBJECT LOCATIONS

The vast majority of the objects in the Smithsonian’s Judaica collection are located in either the National Museum of American History (NMAH) or the National Museum of Natural History (NMNH). Unless otherwise designated, all of the objects in the National Museum of American History are in the former Division of Community Life. Other designations include NMAH-AR, Archives Center; NMAH-MI, the former Division of Musical Instruments; NMAH-PH, the former Division of Political History; and NMAH-TE, the former Division of Textiles. (A reorganization of the museum in 1995 placed collection divisions under a new Department of History, but computerized registrarial data has continued to refer to the original divisions that still hold the collections. These divisions are now administratively located in either the Division of Cultural History or the Division of Social History.) A few others are in the Cooper-Hewitt Museum of Design and Decorative Arts (CH) or in the Freer Gallery of Art (Freer).

The abbreviation for the Smithsonian Institution Archives is SIA, and the abbreviation for Record Unit is RU.

PUBLICATIONS

Following the name of the publication in which the object appeared is that publication’s catalog entry number for the object.

There are three principal volumes in which the Smithsonian’s Judaica has been published. They are as follows:

Cyrus Adler and Immanuel M. Casanowicz, “Biblical Antiquities: A Description of the Exhibit at the Cotton States International Exposition, Atlanta, 1895,” United States National Museum Annual Report for 1896 (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Government Printing Office, 1896), pages 943–1023.

Cyrus Adler and Immanuel M. Casanowicz, “The Collection of Jewish Ceremonial Objects in the United States National Museum,” Proceedings of the United States National Museum, volume 34, number 1630 (1908), pages 701–746.

Immanuel M. Casanowicz, “Collections of Objects of Religious Ceremonial in the U.S. National Museum,” United States National Museum Bulletin, number 148 (1929), pages 1-207.

NMAH 1429

New month plaque

NMAH 1429; acc. no. 6502

United States, late nineteenth century

Cut paper with watercolor wash

H 15.1 cm, W 28 cm

Gift of David Sulzberger, 1900

Negative number 92–13061

This oval wall plaque in its original gilt frame is composed of a paper-cut of Hebrew letters, with blue watercolor wash, overlaid on a backing of textured gold leaf. It was apparently used in a synagogue, possibly in Philadelphia, to announce the beginning of the new month, as a reminder to recite the special prayers for the day. The Jewish calendar is luni-solar, with each month beginning with the new moon and the years adhering to the solar seasons by the addition of a full month in leap years, which occur seven times in each cycle of nineteen years.

Bibliography:

Adler and Casanowicz, “The Collection of Jewish Ceremonial Objects in the United States National Museum,” no. 72.

Casanowicz, “Collections of Objects of Religious Ceremonial in the U.S. National Museum,” no. 27.

NMAH 5491

Butcher’s stamp

NMAH 5491; acc. no. unknown
United States, late nineteenth century Wood

H 5.1 cm, W 1.9 cm

From the collection of J. Varden

Negative number 92–13017

The butcher’s stamp is carved with the word kosher in Hebrew. Traces of ink are still visible on the letters. The stamp was used to designate meat that had been processed in accordance with traditional ritual requirements. Unfortunately, the accession history of the stamp is lost, but given the low catalog number, it is clearly an early acquisition.

Bibliography:

Casanowicz, “Collections of Objects of Religious Ceremonial in the U.S. National Museum,” no. 66.

NMAH-MI95142

Shofar

NMAH-MI95142; acc. no. 22131
Central Europe, nineteenth century Ram’s horn L 25 cm

Gift of David Sulzberger, 1889
Negative number 86–12904/7

This shofar, which belonged to Cyrus Adler’s grandfather Leopold Sulzberger, was the first object of Judaica acquired by Adler for the Smithsonian. Leopold Sulzberger, who was born in Germany, arrived in the United States in 1838; he died in 1881. The shofar was first exhibited in March 1889 in a small exhibition on biblical antiquities, mounted in honor of the inauguration of President Benjamin Harrison.[1]

The shofar must initially have been a loan, because the official accession was not documented until several months later. When it was accessioned, it was recorded with a group of musical instruments from the Near East. The apparent purpose of this acquisition was to study these instruments as examples of types that had been in use since antiquity.[2] In 1895 some of these, including the shofar, were included in an exhibition on biblical antiquities at the Cotton States International Exposition in Atlanta.[3]

The form is typical of central European shofarot, with a straightened shaft and flattened mouthpiece. The opening has been worked to create a large shaped notch.

Bibliography:

Adler and Casanowicz, “Biblical Antiquities: A Description of the Exhibit at the Cotton States International Exposition, Atlanta, 1895,” plate 2.

Adler and Casanowicz, “The Collection of Jewish Ceremonial Objects in the United Stales National Museum,” no. 99.

Casanowicz, “Collections of Objects of Religious Ceremonial in the U.S. National Museum,” no. 34.

NMAH 129829

Mezuzah

NMAH 129829; acc. no. 20465
United States, late nineteenth century
Case: tin

Scroll: ink on parchment

H 7.4 cm, W 1.4 cm

Gift of Otis T. Mason, 1888

Negative number 92–13037

A Jewish home is identified by the mezuzah at its door. The mezuzah is used in accordance with the biblical imperative “Take to heart these instructions with which I charge you this day... inscribe them on the doorpost of your house and on your gates” (Deuteronomy 6:6–9). The parchment scroll, which is encased in a protective cover, is inscribed by a specially trained scribe with the passages from Deuteronomy 6:4–9. Written on the back of the parchment is the word Shaddai, “Almighty.” When the parchment is rolled, the word Shaddai is visible through an aperture in the case.

Although the first object Cyrus Adler acquired for the Smithsonian was his grandfather’s shofar, apparently the first item of Judaica collected for the museum was this mezuzah, which had been given to Otis T. Mason, the curator of ethnology, in the spring of 1888. According to the accession records, this simple mezuzah had been used on a home in Washington, D.C.

NMNH 130291

Tray

NMNH 130291; acc. no. 22985
Turkey (?), late nineteenth century
Brass

D 66 cm
Museum purchase, 1890

Negative number 130291

When this tray was purchased by the museum from Harry Friedenwald, it was believed to have been used for the Passover seder. The tray was published and displayed as a seder item from Turkey over a period of at least forty years. The inscription has no discernible meaning in Hebrew or any other language written in Hebrew characters (such as Ladino); in the catalogs by Adler and Casanowicz the inscription is described as Arabic written in Hebrew letters. The decoration, consisting of a series of hybrid and composite animal figures and animals with human heads, is also unusual for a seder plate. Unfortunately, there is no record of where, or from whom, Friedenwald acquired the piece.

Bibliography:

Adler and Casanowicz, “Biblical Antiquilies: A Description of the Exhibit at the Cotton States International Exposition, Atlanta, 1895,” plate 19.

Adler and Casanowicz, “The Collection of Jewish Ceremonial Objects in the United States National Museum,” no. 79.

Casanowicz, “Collections of Objects of Religious Ceremonial in the U.S. National Museum,” no. 30, plate 4.

Judenstern

NMNH 130294; acc. no. 22334 Germany, eighteenth century
Brass
L 45.7 cm

Museum purchase, 1889
Negative number 92–13027

The Judenstern (literally, “Jewish star”) is the typical form of lamp used in central Europe for the ceremonial kindling of lights to begin the Sabbath and holidays. The Judenstern derives from the star-shaped hanging lamps that were in general use in Europe during the Middle Ages. By the sixteenth century, this type of lamp had become associated primarily with Jewish ritual use.[1]

According to the original accession records, the lamp was Cyrus Adler’s very first foray into acquisitions, purchased in September 1889. Adler bought it from Sypher and Co., a New York dealer, which identified the lamp as coming from Felheim, Germany, although there is no evidence to support any specific provenance. Like most examples of Judensterns that have come into museum collections, this lamp is missing the shafts that would have carried the oil from the star-shaped oil reservoir to the drip pan below. However, because it is a typical Ashkenazi type, the lamp was an important acquisition for the nascent collection.

Bibliography:

Adler and Casanowicz, “Biblical Antiquities: A Description of the Exhibit at the Cotton States International Exposition, Atlanta, 1895.” page 994, plate 17.

Adler and Casanowicz, “The Collection of Jewish Ceremonial Objects in the United States National Museum,” no. 64.

Casanowicz, “Collections of Objects of Religious Ceremonial in the U.S. National Museum,” no. 22.

Hanukkah lamp

NMNH 397672; acc. no. 23736
Morocco, nineteenth century
Brass

H 23.5 cm, W 29.3 cm, D 5 cm
Museum purchase, 1889

The form of this Hanukkah lamp, with the backwall designed as an imaginative architectural facade incorporating an arcade, is a typical North African type from the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries.[1] In this example, the pattern of the backwall, with the arcade surmounted by a quatrefoil or rosette design, is echoed in the separate sidewalls. The backwall is further embellished with schematic floral and geometric patterns. The lamp is made to be hung from the ring that emerges from the domed structure at the apex, of the backwall.

The Hanukkah lamp was purchased by Talcott Williams while he was traveling in Morocco. The purchase price in 1889 was documented as one dollar and the provenance as Tetuan. Williams, a resident of Philadelphia, purchased a number of items for the museum, but this is the only artifact of Judaica he acquired. In 1897 Cyrus Adler wrote to Secretary Samuel Langley requesting that the Smithsonian advance Talcott Williams between $500 and $1000 so that Williams, who was then intending to travel to southern Morocco, could “complete the Moorish collection which he began for the museum in his previous expedition.”[2]

NMNH 130294

Bibliography:

Casanowicz, “Collections of Objects of Religious Ceremonial in the U.S. National Museum,” page 53, figure 4.

F.W. Robbins, The Story of the Lamp (and the Candle) (Bath, U.K..: Ringmead Reprints, 1970), plate 17:4.

Spice container

NMAH 130297; acc. no. 22844
Germany, nineteenth century
Silver; hallmarks: N, W with castle
H 23.5 cm, D (base) 8 cm
Museum purchase, 1890
Negative number 92–13031

This spice container in the form of a ashlar clock tower is a nineteenth-century version of an earlier Nuremberg type.[1] Purchased by Harry Friedenwald as an antique, the spice container was published by Adler and Casanowicz as having been made in Laupheim, Germany, circa 1740.

Bibliography:

Adler and Casanowicz, “Biblical Antiquities: A Description of the Exhibit at the Cotton States International Exposition, Atlanta, 1895,” plate 18, figure 4.

Adler and Casanowicz, “The Collection of Jewish Ceremonial Objects in the United States National Museum,” no. 71.

Casanowicz, “Collections of Objects of Religious Ceremonial in the U.S. National Museum,” no. 25.

Seder plate

NMAH 130299; acc. no. 22844
Germany, eighteenth century, with later inscription
Pewter; hallmarks: BMINSB, (on back) ME
D 35.5 cm

Museum purchase, 29 January 1890
Negative number 92–13035

This pewter plate was adapted for use in the Passover seder sometime after its original manufacture. In the cavetto is a four-pointed star with a central medallion containing the cursive letters MEZ, perhaps the initials of one of the plate’s owners. Around the rim is an inscription in Hebrew with the order of the elements of the seder service ritual; the final words were executed in smaller letters because of a lack of space. A three-letter Hebrew monogram also appears on the rim; this may refer to a member of the Friedenwald family, as this plate was purchased from Harry Friedenwald.

Adler and Casanowicz give the provenance of the plate as Tetenhausen, Germany, but there is no evidence to support that attribution and it is not known how that determination was made.

Bibliography:

Adler and Casanowicz, “Biblical Antiquities: A Description of the Exhibit at the Cotton States International Exposition, Atlanta, 1895,” no. 86.

Casanowicz, “Collections of Objects of Religious Ceremonial in the U.S. National Museum,” no. 31.

Shofar

NMAH 154402; acc. no. 22914
Italy, nineteenth century
Ram’s horn L 35 cm

Museum purchase, 1890
Negative number 76–9464

Among the items Harry Friedenwald was requested to buy in Europe on behalf of the U.S. National Museum was an Italian-type “curled” shofar.[1] It was Adler’s opinion that the shofar dated from the seventeenth century, but there is really no basis for that dating.

The shofar has a flattened shaft and a carved and rolled mouthpiece; the bell is detailed with carved notches.

Bibliography:

Annual Report of the United States National Museum for 1892, page 438. P.C. Marzio, ed, A Nation of Nations: The People Who Came to America as Seen Through Objects, Prints, and Photographs at the Smithsonian Institution (New York: Harper and Row), no. 186.

NMAH 130297

NMAH 130299

NMAH 154402

NMAH 154404

Omer calendar

NMAH 154404; acc. no. 23302
United States, nineteenth century

Ink on parchment, mounted on wood. Original frame: gilt on wood

H 81.3 cm, W 67.3 cm
Gift of David Sulzberger, 1890
Negative number 92–13112

The seven-week period between Passover and Shavuot is marked by the counting of the omer, which was the offering of the new grain harvest at the Temple in Jerusalem. The counting of the seven weeks begins on the second night of Passover.

This calendar integrates the blessings recited in counting the omer into an architectural framework. Within the arch is the Hebrew inscription “Blessed art Thou, Lord our God, King of the Universe, who has sanctified us with thy commandments and commanded us concerning the counting of the omer.” The formula continues with the Hebrew word for today, beneath which the calendar information is recorded in full in Hebrew on a rotating scroll, visible through an aperture at the center of the span of the arch. Below the calendar information is the Hebrew inscription “May the Merciful One restore the worship of the Temple speedily in our days” (Ethics of the Fathers 5:23). This inscription is followed by the complete text of Psalm 67 in Hebrew. This psalm traditionally is read when counting the omer.

The column on the left is inscribed with three letters, H, S, and D.[1] The H refers to which day it is of the 49 days of the omer. The original cataloging information of the H makes reference to the fact that the Sephardi pronunciation of the word omer is “homer” and therefore an H was used to represent it. In the Sephardi tradition, the S then refers to which week (semana) it is in the omer. The daily counting of the omer makes reference to the number of weeks that have passed as well as the number of days; for example, the 33rd day of the omer is also described as four weeks and five days. The D identifies the day (dias). The right column has three windows for the numbers corresponding to the three letters.

There is no record of the provenance of the omer calendar except that it was the gift of David Sulzberger. Furthermore, given the rarity of large omer calendars made in the United States in the nineteenth century, it is noteworthy that there is an omer calendar among the 25 items given to the Jewish Theological Seminary in New York in 1904 by Mayer Sulzberger.[2]

Bibliography:

Adler and Casanowicz, “Biblical Antiquities: A Description of the Exhibit at the Cotton States International Exposition, Atlanta, 1895,” page 996, plate 20.

Adler and Casanowicz, “The Collection of Jewish Ceremonial Objects in the United States National Museum,” no. 97.

Casanowicz, “Collections of Objects of Religious Ceremonial in the U.S. National Museum,” no. 33.

Smithsonian Institution, Celebration A World of Art and Ritual (Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press), no. 32.

Synagogue Photographs

NMAH 154419–154432; acc. no. 23474
Western and central Europe, c. 1890
Museum purchase, 1890

When the Section of Comparative Religion was established at the Smithsonian Institution, the long history of Jews in Europe made the continent a logical place to turn for Judaica resources. Included in the letter asking Harry Friedenwald to purchase ceremonial objects for the museum was the request that he also purchase photographs of synagogues.[1] Cyrus Adler thought they could serve as models for the rapidly growing Jewish community in America.

For centuries, synagogue architecture, like many aspects of Jewish life, was subject to numerous restrictions by non-Jewish society. This situation began to change in central and western Europe in the late eighteenth century, and with the Age of Enlightenment and then the Emancipation came the building of many new synagogues. These new synagogue structures were usually built in some type of revival style, although the buildings are often quite eclectic, mixing and matching elements from a variety of sources.

Photograph of the synagogue on rue de la Victoire (interior)

NMAH 154419
Paris, France
H 28 cm, W 22.5 cm

Dedicated in 1874, the synagogue was designed by Alfred Philibert Aldrophe, a Jewish architect who worked for the French government on the expositions of 1855 and 1862. The interior expands on the Romanesque Revival style, with an arched and ribbed ceiling as well as the traditional three tiers and circular apse, but with more light and a triumphal-arch inscription in French. The synagogue was built to accommodate 5,000 worshipers.

Unidentified synagogue

NMAH 154420
H 28 cm, W 22.5 cm

The original photograph is incorrectly marked as being a synagogue in Florence, Italy. The correct synagogue has not been identified.

Photograph of the Hauptsynagoge

NMAH 154421
Frankfurt am Main, Germany
H 28 cm, W 22.5 cm

The Hauptsynagoge (Main Synagogue) was dedicated on 23 March 1860. The eclectic building, designed by Johann Georg Kayser, reflects influences of the Moorish Revival. Reports from the time of the consecration of the synagogue indicate that the synagogue building symbolized the end of the “Jewish Middle Ages” and the beginning of a new, brighter, emancipated era. On the darkened “Jew Street,” which represented centuries of suppression, “there arises now a temple which in its lovely shapes illustrates the victory of an easier and more tolerant era. ...Plenty of light shines through the high arches into the central hall and contributes to the wonderful atmosphere.”[1] The synagogue was destroyed on Kristallnacht.

NMAH 154422

Photograph of the Oranienburgerstrasse Synagogue

NMAH 154422
Berlin, Germany
H 27 cm, W 19.5 cm
Negative number 92–13057

A monumental example of the Moorish Revival style, the Oranienburgerstrasse Synagogue, which featured a ribbed, patterned, bulbous dome, became a landmark in the old Jewish neighborhood in Berlin. Designed in 1859 by Eduard Knoblauch, the synagogue was not completed until 1866, a year after the architect died. Though not destroyed on Kristallnacht, the building was heavily damaged by the Allied bombing of Berlin. The Oranienburgerstrasse Synagogue has been partly reconstructed.

Photograph of a synagogue in Bonn

NMAH 154423
Bonn, Germany
H 22.5 cm, W 28 cm

Built about 1879, this building, designed by Maertens, is representative of the Romanesque Revival style.

Photograph of the Tempio Israelitico (interior)

NMAH 154424
Florence, Italy
H 25 cm, W 18.7 cm

Dedicated in 1882, the building was designed by Mariano Falcini and Vincente Micheli, two municipal employees, and Marco Trevi, a professor of architecture who was Jewish. The synagogue was built with funds from the bequest of Daniele Levi, given in the short time that Florence was the capital of Italy (1864–1870). The design of the interior reflects the Moorish influence, with complex wall patterns and even a raised pulpit that looks like the minbar of a mosque. During World War II the Nazis used this synagogue as a stable; rebuilt after the war, the building was later damaged in the devastating flood of 1966. The structure has been restored once again. (See also NMAH 154428.)

Photograph of the Dohany Street Synagogue

NMAH 154425
Budapest,
Hungary H 24.5 cm, W 19.8 cm

The competition committee for the new Budapest synagogue chose the Moorish design of Viennese architect Ludwig von Forster because they felt it had a purely “Oriental” style that was linked to elements of the ancient Temple of Solomon in Jerusalem. In fact, the twin-towered building includes Gothic elements as well, such as the window tracery. The sanctuary was built to seat 3,000 worshipers.

Photograph of the synagogue on rue Notre-Dame-de-Nazareth (interior)

NMAH 154426
Paris, France
H 27.5 cm, W 21.8 cm

A synagogue was first built on rue Notre-Dame-de-Nazareth in 1822. By 1850 this structure was not only inadequate in size but also in poor condition. An enlarged building, designed by J.A. Thierry, was dedicated in 1852. The four-tier space displays magnificent brass candelabra and a monumental seven-branched menorah before the Torah ark.

Photograph of a synagogue in Vienna, Austria

NMAH 154430 (missing)

Photograph of the Altneuschul (interior)

NMAH 154427
Prague, Bohemia
H 27.4 cm, W 19.8 cm

Built about 1280 for one of the oldest Jewish communities in Europe, this medieval stone structure with a steeply pitched roof and small dormers is the oldest surviving synagogue in Europe. The style reflects medieval Christian architecture in the double-naved sanctuary, with ribbed vaults, ironwork, and the carved Gothic gable of the original Torah ark. (See also NMAH 154432.)

Photograph of the Tempio Israelitico

NMAH 154428
Florence, Italy
H 25.2 cm, W 18.8 cm

The structure has a central plan, with a dome over the crossing and barrel vaults over the four arms. However, a Moorish Revival influence prevails in the banding in alternating textures of stone and the horseshoe arches. (See also 154424.)

Photograph of the “Rashi Chapel”

NMAH 154429
Worms, Germany
H 17.7 cm, W 11.5 cm

Rashi (Rabbi Solomon ben Isaac, 1040–1105), the leading commentator on the Bible and the Talmud, was born in Troyes, France, but studied for a time in the famous Talmudic academy in Worms. The “Rashi Chapel” was built in 1624 as an addition to the medieval Worms Synagogue, which dated from 1174–1175. Destroyed by the Nazis in 1938, the Worms Synagogue has been rebuilt by the German government.

Photograph of a synagogue in Wiesbaden

NMAH 154431
Wiesbaden, Germany
H 28.2 cm, W 22.2 cm

Built about 1869, this structure, designed by Philipp Hoffmann, blends the “Oriental” elements of the Moorish Revival style. It also borrowed five-pointed stars, rose windows, and a central plan with a dome from Christian churches in Italy. The synagogue was destroyed on Kristallnacht (“night of the broken glass”), 9-10 November 1938.

Photograph of the Altneuschul (exterior)

NMAH 154432
Prague, Bohemia
H 20.3 cm, W 25 cm
See NMAH 154427

NMAH 154436

Circumcision cup and knife

NMAH 154436; acc. no. 23660
London, England, 1863
Knife: steel, brass, jade, carnelian, quartz
Cup: silver, parcel gilt; hallmarks: lion passant, sovereign, leopard, RD

Knife H 14 cm, W 1.9 cm; cup H 8.2 cm, D 5.1 cm
Gift of Mayer Sulzberger, 31 October 1892
Negative number 92–13028

Double cups are sometimes used for circumcision ceremonies, with one cup being the “cup of blessing” and the second being the “cup of metzitzah.”[1] Double cups also are sometimes used for weddings.

Bibliography:

Adler and Casanowicz, “Biblical Antiquities: A Description of the Exhibit at the Cotton States International Exposition, Atlanta, 1895,” page 997, plate 18.

Adler and Casanowicz, “The Collection of Jewish Ceremonial Objects in the United States National Museum.” no. 127.

Casanowicz, “Collections of Objects of Religious Ceremonial in the U.S. National Museum,” no. 53.

Smithsonian Institution, Celebration, no. 136b.

NMNH 154437

Amulet

NMNH 154437; acc. no. 23660
United States (?), nineteenth century
Gold L 5.1 cm

Gift of Mayer Sulzberger, 1892
Negative number 75–076

This unusual amulet, in the form of a woman’s hand, may have been adapted from a needle case. The hand is delicately textured. A wide band on the wrist is decorated with a floral festoon. Engraved on the palm is the Hebrew word Shaddai, “Almighty,” which is also found on mezuzot. The cuff, which is attached to the hand with a hinge, is a chased band with an acanthus leaf decoration. A scroll, now missing, originally was placed within the hand.

Ketubbot and Poems Acquired by G. Brown Goode

In the spring of 1892 George Brown Goode traveled to Italy and acquired numerous objects of Christian ceremonial for the museum.[1] It is still unclear why none of these objects was included in the exhibition Cyrus Adler organized for the World’s Columbian Exposition. While in Rome, Goode also purchased six items of Judaica—four illuminated marriage contracts (ketubbot) and two copies of a poem written for the Simat Torah festival. At least one of the marriage contracts that Goode acquired (NMAH 154631) was exhibited at the World’s Columbian Exposition.

The custom of illuminating ketubbot reached Italy with the arrival of the Sephardi Jews after their expulsion from Spain in 1492.[2] This tradition reached its apogee in Italy in the eighteenth century.

In Rome there was a very distinct style of ketubbah illumination.[3] First of all, whereas the upper edge of most ketubbot is in the form of some type of arch, the parchment of Roman ketubbot is shaped at the bottom. Also, the text in many Roman ketubbot is framed in some type of archway or portal motif, likely symbolizing the gateway to a new life for the couple. The text, which is generally written in square Italian Hebrew script, is typically set in a rectangular frame.

Also characteristic of ketubbah decoration in Rome in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries is the use of allegorical personifications. These reflect contemporary ideals of marriage. This imagery is borrowed from Christian tradition and specifically from Cesare Ripa’s Iconologia. It is likely that there was a collaborative effort in making the ketubbot, with the Hebrew text written by a scribe and the drawings created by a Christian artist.

If the bride or groom had a biblical name, frequently the ketubbah included an appropriate scene. Among the wealthier families, it was customary to include family insignia.

In Rome, the most popular day to be married was Wednesday, and all four of these marriages took place on that day.

NMAH 154630

Ketubbah

NMAH 154630; acc. no. 25771
Rome, Italy, 1830
Ink and gouache on parchment
H 83 cm, W 54.3 cm
Museum purchase, 1892
Negative number 92–13066

Wednesday, the fourth of Sivan 5590 (26 May 1830)

Groom: Mehallel son of Joshua Isaac de Sessa

Bride: Virtuosa daughter of Isaac Bina

Witnesses: Joshua Gershon Ashkenazi,[1] Moses Milano

The text, inscribed in square Italian Hebrew script, is set in a rectangular frame with an inner border of dots. A cartouche above the text contains the Hebrew word for “on Wednesday,” over which is the traditional wedding blessing “be-simana tava.” In the comers, within separate framed panels, are bouquets of flowers tied with ribbon. On the left side is the allegorical figure of Giustizia (Justice) holding scales and a scepter. On the right side is Vittoria (Victory) holding an olive branch and a crown. On the lower margin are two figures, an aged man and a youth, representing the stages of life. The bottom edge of the rectangular parchment is cusped and decorated with a multicolored vine tendril.

Bibliography:

Adler and Casanowicz, “The Collection of Jewish Ceremonial Objects in the United States National Museum,” no. 136.

Casanowicz, “Collections of Objects of Religious Ceremonial in the U.S. National Museum,” no. 57.

Ketubbah

NMNH 154632; acc. no. 25771
Rome, Italy, 1752

Ink, gouache, and gold paint on parchment
H 85.1 cm, W 52.7 cm
Museum purchase, 1892
Negative number 92–13076

Wednesday, the eighth of Adar 5512 (23 February 1752)
Groom: Matzliah son of Solomon de Castro
Bride: Rebecca daughter of David Tarmi, of blessed memory
Witnesses: Mehallel Modigliani (?), Hezekiah Amrin

The text, inscribed in square Hebrew Italian script, is set within a gold-leaf border containing traditional wedding blessings. The initial Hebrew word, meaning “on Wednesday,” written in gold, is framed in an elaborated cartouche. At the top of the ketubbah are two narrow panels with a blessing from Proverbs 18:22: “Whoever finds a wife finds a good thing and obtains the favor of the Lord.” In the center is a heraldic shield with an emblem designed as a three-tiered mountain. A flowering vine, which stems from the cusped lower edge of the parchment, surrounds the text. The outer margin contains quotations from Ruth 4:11–12 and Psalms 128:3.

Bibliography:

Adler and Casanowicz, “The Collection of Jewish Ceremonial Objects in the United States National Museum,” no. 138.

Casanowicz, “Collections of Objects of Religious Ceremonial in the U.S. National Museum,” no. 59.

NMNH 154632

Ketubbah

NMAH 154633; acc. no. 25771
Rome, Italy, 1816
Ink and gouache on parchment
H 85.1 cm, W 53.4 cm
Museum purchase, 1892

Negative numbers 92–13073, 92–13074, 92–13075
Wednesday the 20th of Adar (20 March 1816)

Groom: Elijah son of Samuel Sciacchi (?)

Bride: Mazal Tov daughter of Mehallel de Castelnuovo
Witnesses: Joshua Gershon son of David Benjamin Ashkenazi,
Michael Hayyim son of Abraham Megula

The text is inscribed in square Hebrew script within a rectangular frame filled with multicolored dots. The initial Hebrew word, meaning “on Wednesday,” is set in a cartouche framed by flower tendrils. Above the text is a narrow band with the blessing “be-simana tava” and a blessing from Proverbs 18:22. A heraldic shield with the emblem of a lion holding a branch is in the middle of the upper margin. This symbol appears on a number of Roman ketubbot, generally identified with the Scazzocchio and Fiani families.[1] In the upper right comer is the allegorical figure Fortunata (Fortune) riding a wheel of fortune and carrying an inverted cornucopia. The inscription reads, “All depends on merit and good luck.” In the upper left comer is a muse holding a tambourine and a sistrum, an allegorical figure of Peace. Inscribed above is “Peace and welcome to far and near.” On the lower right is the allegorical figure Concordia Maritale (Marital Harmony) holding two burning hearts linked together with a chain. Inscribed above is “A well-mated couple is chosen by God.” On the lower left is a muse with a tambourine and a flower, the allegorical figure of Goodness. The inscription above reads, “The good blessings” (?) and “And the noble has noble intentions and is constant in noble acts” (Isaiah 32:8).

NMAH 154633, neg. no. 92–13073

NMAH 154633, neg. no. 92–13074

NMAH 154633, neg. no. 92–13075

The margins are composed of a pattern of interlocking semicircles embellished with a floral cluster. Biblical and Talmudic quotes referring to marriage, written in micrographic script, outline the edges of the semicircles. The text of Ruth 4:11 is written in the outermost border. The image of Elijah ascending to heaven in the fiery chariot (2 Kings 2:11–13) is depicted in the cusped edge of the parchment. The second figure is the prophet Elisha. The scene was chosen as a reference to the groom.

Bibliography:

Annual Report of the United States National Museum for 1895, page 22. Adler and Casanowicz, “The Collection of Jewish Ceremonial Objects in the United States National Museum,” no. 34, plate 99.

Casanowicz, “Collections of Objects of Religious Ceremonial in the U.S. National Museum,” no. 56, page 5.

Smithsonian Institution, Celebration, no. 164A.

Jewish Encyclopedia, s.v. “Ketubah” (NMAH 154633).

Ketubbah

NMAH 154631; acc. no. 25771

Rome, Italy, 1837

Ink and gouache on parchment

H 87.5 cm, W 54.3 cm

Museum purchase, 4 June 1892

Negative numbers 92–13069, 92–13070

Wednesday, the 25th of Sivan 5597 (28 June 1837)

Groom: Aaron son of Judah Joseph Corcos

Bride: Quintiliana daughter of Joab de Capua

Witnesses: Joshua Gershon Ashkenazi, Raphael Yohanan

Ephraim Casmilo

The text, in square Hebrew Italian script, is set within a rectangular frame. The decorative border is composed of panels that contain figures and floral and geometric motifs. In the middle of the upper border is a couple representing the ideal of marital harmony. Along the sides to the right and left is a rhythmic pattern of semicircles filled with flowers. Two garlands are hung in the lower margin. The image of Aaron the High Priest is illustrated in the cusped lower edge of the parchment, a reference to the groom’s name.

NMAH 154631, neg. no. 92–13069

Bibliography:

Adler and Casanowicz, “The Collection of Jewish Ceremonial Objects in the United States National Museum,” no. 137.

Casanowicz, “Collections of Objects of Religious Ceremonial in the U.S. National Museum,” no. 58.

NMAH 154631, neg. no. 92–13070

Poem for Simhat Torah

NMAH 154634, NMNH 154635; acc. no. 25771

Rabbi Abraham ben Jacob Anav (Anau)[1]

Rome, Italy, 1766

Ink and gouache on parchment

NMAH 154634: H 58.4 cm, W 44.4 cm

NMNH 154635: H 59.7 cm, W 45.7 cm

Museum purchase, 1892

Negative numbers 92–13111, 92–13123, 92–13124

These documents are two copies of an original cantata written in honor of Isaac Berakhyah Baraffael son of Mordecai Baraffael on the occasion of Simat Torah. The copies differ in that one copy has three allegorical personifications illustrated and the second copy has a blank space where the figures would have been added. In addition, there is a variation in the geometric motifs used in the decorative borders of the two versions of the poem.

Simat Torah is a one-day celebration following Sukkot when the yearly cycle of reading the Torah is completed and immediately begun again. It is customary to honor two members of the congregation. One serves as atan Torah, “bridegroom of the law”; he reads the concluding section of the Torah. The second is atan bereshit, “bridegroom of Genesis”; he reads the first section of Genesis. Isaac Berakhyah Baraffael was the atan Torah.[2]

The text is written in square Italian Hebrew script in three columns. A register above the text contains an introductory historical note and praises the student Isaac Berakhyah’s family and the study of the Torah. A chronogram for the year 5527 (1766, because this took place in the fall) appears in the third line of the text. A heraldic shield with the emblem of a cock holding a sheaf of wheat in its beak, standing on a three-lobed mountain, is in the middle of the upper margin.[3] This same motif appears on the title page of a manuscript of an allegorical play entitled Disputation Between Jephtah and the Ammonites, written by Rabbi Abraham ben Jacob Anav in 1757–1758.[4]

The text is written for three singers, who represent Wealth, Honor, and Life. The three female allegorical figures correspond to these themes. To the right is a figure holding a cornucopia identified with the Hebrew inscription “Wealth and riches” (Psalms 112:2). In the center is a figure holding two orbs with the inscription “The Torah is the Tree of Life” (Proverbs 3:18). To the left is a female figure and the inscription “Honor for a man.”

NMAH 154634, neg. no. 92–13111

The decorative frame of each copy of the poem includes both bands of floral motifs and a band of geometric motifs. The first (NMAH 154634) consists of oval lozenges inset with a diamond shape; the second (NMNH 154635) consists of a diamond-pattern inset with a flower. In both documents these motifs are formed of micrography.

NMAH 154634, neg. no. 92–13124

Isaac Berakhyah was from a wealthy family of spice importers and merchants. The family came from Ancona at the beginning of the eighteenth century. At the time the cantata was written, Isaac Berakhyah was unmarried, as indicated by the superscription “ha-bakhur ,” literally “the young man.” Thus it is plausible that Isaac Berakhyah is the same man as Isaac (Fortunato) Baraffael, who is recorded as being head of the family business in 1798. In March 1798 he was accorded the rank of major in the national guard established by the revolutionary regime. He resigned shortly thereafter as the result of a conflict about marching in a parade scheduled for the Sabbath. There is a listing for Isaac Baraffael as late as 1811, where he is identified as an alternate in the representative body set up to be a liaison to the government.

Bibliography:

Jewish Encyclopedia, s.v. “Siyyum” (NMAH 154634).

NMNH 154635, neg. no. 92–13123

Prayerbooks

NMAH 154572, NMAH 154568; acc. no. 26095
Bombay, India (Rosh Hashanah liturgy. 1862; Yom Kippur
liturgy, 1867–1868)

Printed paper

H 21.6 cm, W 13.6 cm

Gift of the Reverend Henry Cohen, 1892

Marathi prayerbooks for Rosh ha-Shanah and Yom Kippur were originally loaned by the Reverend Henry Cohen to the United States National Museum for the World’s Columbian Exposition.[1] At the time, Cohen was serving as rabbi at B’nai Israel, a Reform congregation in Galveston, Texas.

The Prayers of the Jewish New Year’s Day, 5623 (1862) and The Prayers for the Day of Atonement, Translated into Marathi, volume 1, 5627 (1867), and volume 2, 5628 (1868), were translated from Hebrew into Marathi by Joseph Ezekiel Rajpurkar. The books were published by the Bene-Israel Improvement Society and were printed by the Gunpat Krushnajee Press in Bombay.

The history of the Bene-Israel community in India is known only through legend, which traces their origins to the second century BCE.[2] Whatever the actual date of their settlement, the Bene-Israel did remain isolated as a Jewish community. In time, they adopted many customs of their Hindu neighbors, and Marathi became their native language. Nevertheless, they continued to observe some fundamentals of the Jewish tradition, such as circumcision, the Sabbath, and the dietary laws.

In the nineteenth century there was an effort to have the Bene-Israel return to a more traditional Judaism. The movement was spearheaded by Solomon Shurrabi, who acted as religious instructor in Bombay for 20 years after being shipwrecked in 1836. Prominent among those supporting religious and educational institutions for the Bene-Israel was David S. Sassoon (1792–1864). The Sassoon family, originally from Baghdad, was known for both great expertise in commerce and tremendous philanthropic efforts. Part of the educational mission was the translation of Hebrew liturgy and English works of Jewish interest into Marathi. Ezekiel was responsible for the translation of more than 20 such works.[3]

Joseph Ezekiel Rajpurkar (1834–1905) was born in Bombay. He studied at the Free Assembly School. In 1856 he became a teacher in David Sassoon’s Benevolent Institution in Bombay. He served as headmaster at the school from 1861 to 1879. In 1879 he was appointed Hebrew examiner at the University of Bombay. Ezekiel was also secretary to the Bene-Israel Improvement Society.

Henry Cohen was born in London. At 18 he traveled to Africa and worked as an interpreter in the French legation; he was wounded during the Zulu wars. He moved to the British West Indies and served as the rabbi in Kingston, Jamaica, for one year (1884–1885). From there he moved to Woodville, Mississippi, before assuming the pulpit in Galveston in 1888. Cohen was well known for his heroic efforts on behalf of the victims of the 1900 flood in Galveston. Beginning in 1907 he began working with the Jewish Immigrants Information Bureau, which was to assist over 10,000 Jews who immigrated to the United States through what was known as the Galveston Plan. This short-lived effort, initiated and financed by Jacob Schiff, was an attempt to divert immigrating European Jews away from New York and other Eastern seaports and toward the Southwest in order to reduce the concentration of Jewish immigrants in the big cities of the Northeast and Midwest. Throughout his career in Texas, Cohen was also very active in trying to reform the penal system.

Bibliography:

Adler and Casanowicz, “The Collection of Jewish Ceremonial Objects in the United States National Museum,” nos. 102–103.

Thanksgiving to the Almighty for the Diamond Jubilee of
Empress Victoria

NMAH 158343; acc. no. 32757
Composed by Joseph Ezekiel
Bombay, India, 1897
Printed paper
H 34 cm, W 21.3 cm

Gift of the Reverend Henry Cohen, 23 October 1897
Negative number 92–13053

The prayer for Queen Victoria’s Diamond Jubilee offered at the Gate of Mercy Synagogue, Bombay, India, on Sunday, 20 June 1897, is an original composition by Joseph Ezekiel in Marathi, Hebrew, and English. The order of the service recited (in addition to the Ezekiel prayer) is given in the Marathi section of the broadside and includes selections from the Psalms and “HaNoten Teshua,” a traditional prayer for the government.

NMAH 158343

The prayer Ezekiel composed includes variations on biblical verses, including Numbers 15:22, Psalms 95:2, and Psalms 27:14.

NMNH 154758

Torah ark curtain

NMNH 154758; acc. no. 26818
Ottoman Turkey, late nineteenth century
Velvet, metal thread
H 279.4 cm, W 184.2 cm
Museum purchase from John Durand, 1893

The iconographic composition of a portal and hanging lamp is widely used on Torah ark curtains from the Ottoman Empire; the style is derived from Islamic prayer rugs. The motif acquires a Jewish iconographic meaning with the addition of biblical verses referring to the Temple and the sh′ar (a gateway or portal).

The symbol of a sacred sh′ar is a very old one in the Jewish tradition. This imagery is first used in the Bible when Jacob exclaims, “How awesome is this place! This is none other than the abode of God, and that is the gateway to heaven (Genesis 28:17).

The meaning of the symbol evolved over time to evoke not only the concept of the gateway to the heavenly abode but also the mishkan, the portable sanctuary used in the desert (Exodus 25–31) and subsequently in the Temple in Jerusalem, where the Ark of the Covenant was kept in the “Holy of Holies.” Similarly, the motif of a lamp finds its origins in the Bible, from the imperative to maintain a continuously burning light (Exodus 27:20). The eternal light that is hung in the synagogue in front of the Torah ark derives from this source.

In the top center is the verse “But the Lord is in His holy Abode—be silent before him, all the earth!” (Habakkuk 2:20). On the right side is “This is the gate of the Lord; the righieous shall enter into it” (Psalms 118:20). On the left side is “Open the gates, and let a righteous nation enter, [a nation] that keeps faith” (Isaiah 26:2). In addition, above the lamp is the verse “I have set the Lord always before me” (Psalms 18:8).

An unusual addition is the names of four archangels, Michael, Raphael, Gabriel, and Uriel, in roundels in each comer of the portal. Nuriel, the name of the fifth archangel not noted on the parokhet (ark curtain), means literally “God is my lamp,” so perhaps Nuriel is indeed included, obliquely, in the lamp motif.

Heavy gold couching, as used on this ark curtain, was one of the most frequently used types of Ottoman embroidery. Couching evolved from the Byzantine tradition and was widespread in Turkey well into the twentieth century.[1] The use of plants to form the border around the portal is standard in Torah ark curtains and also derives from Islamic prayer rugs.[2]

This Torah ark curtain was purchased just prior to the World’s Columbian Exposition. It was included in the landmark exhibition on comparative religion organized by Cyrus Adler for the United States National Museum at the exposition and was a prominent feature in subsequent exhibitions in Atlanta in 1895 and Tennessee in 1898.

Bibliography:

Annual Report of the United States National Museum for 1895, pages 755–768.

Adler and Casanowicz, “Biblical Antiquities: A Description of the Exhibit at the Cotton States International Exposition, Atlanta, 1895,” page 994, plate 16.

Adler and Casanowicz, “The Collection of Jewish Ceremonial Objects in the United States National Museum,” no. 6.

Casanowicz, “Collections of Objects of Religious Ceremonial in the U.S. National Museum,” no. 1.

Smithsonian Institution, Celebration, no. 204A.

Esther Juhasz, ed., Sephardi Jews in the Ottoman Empire (Jerusalem: Israel Museum, 1990), no. 53.

Rabbi’s costume

NMNH 154761; acc. no. 26818

Istanbul, Turkey, c. 1850–1875

Turban: wool, satin, silk tassel; D 25.4 cm

Jacket: wool, satin lining; L 57.2 cm, W 153.6 cm

Trousers: wool, cotton lining; L 79.7 cm, W 99.3 cm

Robe: silk, cotton lining; L 134.3 cm

Shawl: wool; L 321.3 cm, W 133.3 cm

Shoes: leather; L 29.8 cm (probably late nineteenth century)

Museum purchase from John Durand, 1893

Beginning with the rise of Islam in the seventh century, nonbelievers living under Islamic rule, primarily Christians and Jews, were relegated to a tolerated status. As stipulated in the Pact of “Umar,[1] in the hierarchy of the Islamic world the dhimmi,[2] as they were designated, had to follow certain practices. These rules established the modus vivendi between the Muslims and the conquered communities, which allowed religious rites to be performed within certain behavioral parameters.

Among the numerous stipulations of the Pact of “Umar regarding conduct of the dhimmi was the wearing of distinctive clothing.[3] This came to mean wearing special badges or outer garments of a particular color.[4] There were variations in other aspects of the law as well by the ninth and tenth centuries, when Islamic rule grew from a military aristocracy to an empire, which evolved into many different regimes.

A photograph taken in 1873 shows the Haham de Smyrne (Izmir) in a similar costume. He is wearing a cashmere sash tied around his waist over a striped robe called entari.[5]

The rabbi’s costume was purchased by Cyrus Adler specifically for the World’s Columbian Exposition. It was described as a “Costume of a Rabbi in Mohammedan Countries.” Adler did not purchase any Judaica when he was in Turkey on behalf of the U.S. National Museum. However, when he met with members of the Jewish community and attended synagogue, he certainly saw items similar to the Torah ark curtain (NMNH 154758) and this rabbi’s costume (later purchased through Durand, a dealer in Paris). The costume is in pristine condition and may never have been worn.

Bibliography:

Adler and Casanowicz, “The Collection of Jewish Ceremonial Objects in the United States National Museum,” no. 145.

Casanowicz, “Collections of Objects of Religious Ceremonial in the U.S. National Museum,” no. 64.

Vivian B. Mann, ed., A Tale of Two Cities: Jewish Life in Frankfurt and Istanbul, 1750–1870 (New York: Jewish Museum, 1982), no. 188.

Esther scroll and case

NMAH 154763; acc. no. 26816

Jerusalem, Eretz Yisrael, late nineteenth century

Case: olive wood, ink inscription; L 20 cm, D 7 cm

Scroll: ink on parchment; H 10 cm

Gift of David Sulzberger, 1893

Negative number 92–13063

This Esther scroll with case is typical of the olive wood souvenirs that were made in Jerusalem in the late nineteenth century. The relief on the case includes the standard popular iconography of the Western Wall and other holy sites in Jerusalem. This same program is found on maps, in books, and on seals, ceremonial objects, and a variety of miscellaneous decorative items for visitors to the Holy Land.[1]

Written in ink above the scene is a Hebrew inscription: “Jerusalem the Holy City, may it be rebuilt and reestablished”; below is “The Western Wall.”

The Esther scroll was originally recorded as a loan to the museum for exhibit at the World’s Columbian Exposition. The scroll is in mint condition, which suggests that it was never used.

Bibliography:

Adler and Casanowicz, “The Collection of Jewish Ceremonial Objects in the United States National Museum,” no. 124.

Casanowicz, “Collections of Objects of Religious Ceremonial in the U.S. National Museum,” no. 40.

Smithsonian Institution, Celebration, no. 99.

Torah shield

NMAH 154765; acc. no. 26815 (or 26818)

London, England, dedicated 1888

Silver with glass stones; hallmarks: N, JSH, Victoria, leopard’s head

H 35.5 cm, W 33 cm

Gift of Dr. Sabato Morais, 1893

Negative number 92–12999

The design of the Torah shield is modeled on the hoshen, breastplate, of the high priest as described in Exodus 28:15–21. Each of the stones represents one of the twelve tribes. There is a further reference to the garb of the high priest, for on the gold frontlet of the priestly headdress were engraved the words that are found on the inscription at the top of the Torah shield: “Holy to the Lord” (Exodus 28:36).

The donor inscription is on the front of the Torah shield in Hebrew, and an English version is on the back. The English is not an exact translation, as the secular names are given instead of the Hebrew names of the family members, and the Hebrew does not record their death dates. The inscription reads: “This Breast Plate is Presented by / Alfred A. Marcus, daughter Mary Ann, and son Simeon of Boston in sacred and / Holy memory of Kate Marcus, God rest her soul, who died at Boston U.S.A. Nisan 11, 5647 [5 April 1887]. / Late parents of / Alfred A. Marcus / and his darling / wife Kate / Simeon Marcus died in London, Elul 16, 5612 [31 August 1852] / His beloved wife Ellen died in London, Shebat 6, 5632 [16 January 1842]. Judah Benjamin / died in Graham’s Town, Cape of Good Hope, South Africa, Heshban 10, 5598 [8 November 1837]. / And his beloved wife Mary Ann, died in London, lyar 11, 5637 [24 April 1877].”

Alfred Marcus left his native England and went to South Africa, where he made his fortune.[1] He arrived in Boston in the 1860s with his wife and children. Dubbed “the Africaner,” Marcus’s largesse was well known.[2] This Torah shield was apparently one of several dedicated by Alfred Marcus on Yom Kippur in 1888 at Congregation Sharei Tefila in Boston. Tragically, Marcus lost both his children and his fortune as well. Even the Sharei Tefila synagogue was razed during his lifetime (Sharei Tefila had merged with Mishkan Israel to become Mishkan Tefila).

It is not known how the Torah ornaments dedicated by Marcus were dispersed, but this Torah shield somehow made its way to Sabato Morais in Philadelphia.[3]

NMAH 154763

NMAH154765

NMAH 154990

Torah shield

NMAH 154990; acc. no. 28902
Istanbul, Turkey, dedicated 1863–1864
Silver; hallmark: a
H 29 cm, W 25.4 cm
Museum purchase, 1894
Negative number 92–13000

The gable form of the Torah shield and the iconographic program are atypical for examples from the Ottoman Empire, although the shield is similar in workmanship.[1] The composition of the shield is much more akin to Polish examples of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries.

NMAH 154990

Two columns at either side have acanthus leaf capitals and flowered vines wound around the shafts. In the upper central field, which is ornamented with C scrolls, is a miniature ark, surmounted by a crown and flanked by birds (a likely reference to the Ark of the Covenant and the cherubim (Exodus 25:10–22)). A hinged attachment, possibly for a curtain, is affixed above, on the right. This may refer to the parokhet, the curtain that served as a partition before the Holy of Holies (Exodus 26:31–34). The doors are engraved with the Ten Commandments. The date of the dedication is engraved on the inside of the door panels.

The names of the holidays are visible through a curved window. The names, which are in niello work, are on a rotating disk manipulated from the back of the shield. Above is the phrase “The day of the Holy Sabbath.”

Below the ark, a pair of lions wearing crowns, depicted en face, support a medallion engraved with a bouquet and the dedicatory inscription “This was donated by Beile, daughter of Elkanah Barukh, son of Moses HaLevi.” The name of the donor seems to indicate an Ashkenazi source for the Torah shield.

The Torah shield was purchased by Cyrus Adler at the World’s Columbian Exposition from Albert R. Souhami, concessionaire of the Turkish village on the Midway Plaisance.[2] Adler had met Souhami when Adler was on assignment in Turkey to negotiate on behalf of the exposition. On the reverse of the shield is a sales tag, reading “No. 67, 150.” Adler paid $100 for the shield, which was a considerable sum to pay for a single ceremonial object at that time.

Bibliography:

Adler and Casanowicz, “Biblical Antiquities: A Description of the Exhibit at the Cotton States International Exposition, Atlanta, 1895,” page 994, plate 15.

Adler and Casanowicz, “The Collection of Jewish Ceremonial Objects in the United States National Museum,” pages 709–710, plate 68.

Casanowicz, “Collections of Objects of Religious Ceremonial in the U.S. National Museum,” no. 6, plate 2.

Mann, A Tale of Two Cities, no. 202, plate 14.

NMNH 158217, neg. no. 92–13119

Manuscript for Berit Milah and Pidyon Ha-Ben

NMNH 158217; acc. no. 299660
Eliezer Feibelne (?)

Central Europe, 1839–1840

Binding: gold-tooled leather

Folio: ink, tempera, and gold leaf on parchment

H 14.3 cm, W 9.1 cm

Museum purchase from William E. Benjamin, 1895
Negative numbers 92–13119–92–13121

This item is a small manuscript for the circumcision ceremony and the ceremony for the redemption of the firstborn. There are 20 parchment folios, with an illuminated title page, 31 letter panels, and 2 marginal illuminations. The text is written in square Ashkenazi script.

On the title page is “The book of Berit Milah and Pidyon Ha-Ben” within a portal. Above the arched lunette of the portal are two putti holding a garland. Above the lunette is a rainbow with the inscription “This is the sign of the covenant” (Genesis 9:12). Aaron and Moses appear in niches on columns flanking the portal.

In the lower portion of the title page is a circular medallion supported by two rampant lions. The medallion contains a dedication in micrographic script forming the letters MBB. The micrography reads, “This pinkas was made by Eliezer Feibelne [?], the scribe, son of [?] in honor of Mordecai son of Moses in the year 5600 [1839–1840].” A signature, MB Benham, is on the inside cover, facing the title page.

NMNH 158217, neg. no. 92–13120

NMNH 158217, neg. no. 92–13121

NMAH 158448

Synagogue Prints

NMAH 158440–158448; acc. no. 34414 (1898)

NMAH 158467–158468; acc. no. 34508 (1899)

Cyrus Adler expanded the research files on European synagogues with the purchase of a group of graphics. The prints were primarily book illustrations, all purchased from William Wesley and Son, London.

The Old and New Synagogues in Fürth

NMAH 158448 Nuremberg, Germany, 1705

Copper plate engraving on paper; lower center and lower right,
Johan. Alexand. Baener
Paper: H 19.7 cm, W 36 cm
Plate: H 16.9 cm, W 26.5 cm
Negative number 92–13059

The print depicts a wedding scene taking place in front of the old and new synagogues of Fürth.

Das Gebaeude der fünf Synagoeen in Rom
NMAH 158440

Germany, mid-nineteenth century

Wood engraving on paper; lower right, Hartlieb X.A.

Paper: H 14.6 cm, W 23
cm Plate: H 10 cm, W 14 cm

In July 1555 all the Jews of Rome were forced to move to the ghetto and were officially permitted to have only one synagogue. Later Pope Pius V agreed to have one building that would actually house five different synagogues to satisfy the Jews who wanted to use different rites. This arrangement was known as the “Cinque Scole.” A complicated series of structures developed, all of which were restored in 1868.[1]

The Ancient Synagogue of Toledo

NMAH 158441

England, mid-nineteenth century

Lithograph; lower left, C. Moody, litho; lower right, Drawn by
Rawl[inson]

H 13.9 cm, W 17.8 cm

The Toledo synagogue was built about 1200. It was taken out of Jewish hands about 1411 and turned into the convent of Santa Maria La Blanca in the second half of the sixteenth century. The print is based on a painting by Bernardo Villamil y Marraci.[1] The synagogue building has been restored.

Die Alt-Neuschul

NMAH 158442

Germany, mid-nineteenth century (?)

Steel plate engraving on paper; lower left, nach d. Natur v. C.

Wuerbs; lower right, gest. v. S. Langer

Paper: H 20 cm, W 25 cm

View of the back of the Altneuschul in Prague, built in the thirteenth century, a landmark of medieval Jewish settlement in Europe.

Die Neue Synagoge in Cassel

NMAH 158443A-158443F
Germany, 1840

Steel plate engraving on paper; lower margin, nach der Natur

ges. und litt von maler Loewer in Cassel

H 30 cm, W 45 cm

There are a total of six engravings of the synagogue in Cassel, including a view of the exterior and the street and elevations. The new synagogue, built in 1839, was designed in the Romanesque Revival style by A. Schuchardt.[1] The synagogue was destroyed on Kristallnacht.

Die Neue Synagoge in Mannheim

NMAH 158444

Germany, mid-nineteenth century

Engraving and etching on paper; center margin, L. Lang del.

H 52 cm, W 37 cm

The “new” synagogue in Mannheim was built in 1855. The interior was desecrated on 1 April 1933, and the synagogue was destroyed on Kristallnacht.

Great Synagogue, Duke’s Place, London

NMAH 158445
London, England, 1809

Hand-colored aquatint and etching on paper; lower left, Pagin
and Rowlandson del and sculp
Paper: H 28 cm, W 34 cm
Plate: H 20 cm, W 25.7 cm

The Duke’s Place Synagogue, designed by James Spiller, was dedicated on 26 March 1790.[1] Rowlandson stereotypically caricatured the worshipers. The synagogue was destroyed in an air raid on 11 May 1941.

The Central Synagogue, Great Portland Street, London

NMAH 158446

London, England, late nineteenth cetury
Wood engraving on paper
H 30.5 cm, W 20 cm

The Central Synagogue in Great Portland Street was a branch of the Great Synagogue in Duke’s Place. Dedicated in 1870, it was designed by N.S. Joseph in the Moorish style.[1] The synagogue was destroyed in an air raid in 1941.

The New Synagogue, Great St. Helen’s, London

NMAH 158447

London, England, nineteenth century

Steel plate engraving on paper; lower left, G. [?] Bell del; lower
right, Walmsley

Paper: H 28.5 cm, W 21.5 cm

Plate: H 18.5 cm, W 14 cm

The New Synagogue congregation was founded in 1761 as the result of secession from the Great Synagogue. This building was dedicated in 1837.[1]

De twee groote Synagogen der Hoogduitsche Jooden, en het
oude —zyds —Huiszitten —Aalmoesseniers—huis van agte-
ren, in’t verschiet

NMAH 158454

Amsterdam, Holland, eighteenth century

Engraving on paper; lower left, J. de Beyer delin. ad vivum

Paper: H 36 cm, W 37 cm

Plate: H 28 cm, W 30.1 cm

The title translates as “A view of the great synagogues of the Ashkenazi Jews in the old side [of Amsterdam]—the property—the almshouse—from behind and in the distance.” The Ashkenazi synagogues, the first of which was built in 1671, were damaged during World War II, have been reconstructed and now house the Jewish Historical Museum.

Portugeesche Jooden Synagoge

NMAH 158455

Amsterdam, Holland, mid-eighteenth century
Etching and engraving on paper
Paper: H 24.5 cm, W 29.7 cm
Plate: H 14.6 cm, W 18.7 cm

The first Portuguese Synagogue, for the Sephardi community, was built in 1639. In 1671 a second building was constructed.

Portugeesche Jooden Kerk te Amsterdam

NMAH 158467

Amsterdam, Holland, mid-eighteenth century

Etching on paper

Paper: H 22.6 cm, W 29.7 cm

Plate: H 17.5 cm, W 25 cm

Another view of the Portuguese Synagogue in Amsterdam.

Hoogduitsche Jooden Kerk te Amsterdam

NMAH 158468

Amsterdam, Holland, mid-eighteenth century

Etching on paper

Paper: H 18 cm, W 27 cm

Plate: H 16.5 cm, W 24.5 cm

A view of the Ashkenazi synagogue in Amsterdam, illustrating the facade of the synagogue and its environs.

Medal of the Second Zionist Congress

NMAH 158460; acc. no. 34414
Samuel Friedrich Beer
Paris, France, 1898
Bronze; hallmark: Beer, Paris 1898
D 6.4 cm

Museum purchase, 1898

On the obverse of this medal, which was sculpted by the Czech Samuel Friedrich Beer (1846–1912), is an allegorical scene in a pastoral setting. The central female figure, in diaphanous drapery, gestures to a rising sun and seated figures, including an aging man, a pregnant woman, and a child. A youth on the left of the composition looks on. On the reverse is the inscription “I will take the children of Israel from among the nations... and bring them into their own land” (Ezekiel 37:21).

Cyrus Adler purchased this medal and three stickpins (catalog nos. NMAH 158462–158464) from the Second Zionist Congress, held 28–30 August 1898 in Switzerland, as well as reproductions of delegates’ cards from the First and Second Zionist Congresses (catalog nos. NMAH 158458, 158459). It is interesting that Adler made these purchases, as he was a staunch critic of the Zionists’ efforts to establish a modem Jewish state in Palestine. At that time Adler was a proponent of a plan to resettle Jews, who were then suffering persecution in a number of countries, in “colonies” in Syria or Mesopotamia.[1] Adler apparently purchased these items when he was in London in the summer of 1898, where he attended the founding conference of the International Catalogue of Scientific Literature as the United States representative. Despite his personal opposition to the Zionists’ goals, as a curator Adler apparently recognized the historical value of these items.

Bibliography::

Adler and Casanowicz, “The Collection of Jewish Ceremonial Objects in the United States National Museum,” nos. 167–169.

Casanowicz, “Collections of Objects of Religious Ceremonial in the U.S. National Museum,” nos. 76–80.

NMAH 262188

Sukkot plate

NMAH 262188; acc. no. 52129

England (manufacture), United States (decoration), early
twentieth century
Porcelain
D 22.7 cm

Gift of Mary M. Cohen on behalf of Congregation Mikveh
Israel, 10 November 1910
Negative number 92–13102

This plate was part of a set commissioned by Congregation Mikveh Israel for use in the synagogue’s communal sukkah. The decoration on the rim consists of two palm branches, representing the lulav, enclosing a medallion with the monogram MI and the inscription “May the Lord found it well, the Association of the Holy Community of Mikveh Israel, Philadelphia, 5670 [1909].” Above the medallion is an etrog.

The plate was manufactured in England by Johnson Brothers, and the special Sukkot motif, which was designed by Miss Katherine M. Cohen, was added by the Tatler Decorating Company of Trenton, New Jersey. The gift to the Smithsonian was made by Mary M. Cohen, president of the Sisterhood of Mikveh Israel, through Cyrus Adler, who was a lifelong member of the synagogue.

Mikveh Israel is one of the oldest congregations in the United States; its history dates back to the colonial era. From its inception, Mikveh Israel played a leading role in the growth and development of the American Jewish community, and many important Jewish figures have been associated with this congregation.

NMAH 216162, neg. no. 92–13071

Ketubbah

NMAH 216162; acc. no. 39535
Livorno, Italy, 1719

Ink, gouache, and gold leaf on parchment

H 94 cm, W 59 cm

Bequest of S.S. Howland, 1902

Negative numbers 92–13071, 92–13072

Wednesday, the fourth of Tammuz, 5479 (23 June 1719)

Groom: David son of Abraham Rodriguez Miranda

Bride: Esther daughter of Moses Franco

Dowry: 8,500 pezze, with increment of 12,750 pezze

The Jewish community in Livorno dates to 1593, when the Medici rulers, who were to transform the town into Tuscany’s major port, invited Jews to settle there. The Jews were accorded many rights and privileges they did not enjoy elsewhere, including self-jurisdiction in both civil and criminal cases. Moreover, Livorno had no walled ghetto. Marranos, the hidden Jews whose ancestors had fled the Inquisition in Spain, were also welcomed.

NMAH 216162, neg. no. 92–13072

The prosperity of the Jewish community is evidenced in the elaborate ornamentation of many Livorno ketubbot. As is often the case with these documents, this particular marriage contract is richly decorated and includes the tenaim, betrothal conditions, as well as the ketubbah text. The conditions listed here are standard for Livorno ketubbot, including stipulations covering divorce and death.[1] The groom signed in Italian. The elaborate signatures of the witnesses have not been deciphered.

The text is framed by a baroque gabled facade. On the frieze above the text is the standard phrase, “With a good sign and favorable fortune.” Columns on high pedestals appear on either side of the text. Each pedestal is inscribed with Hebrew verses recalling biblical figures, namesakes of the bride and groom. On the right: “And David had great success in all his ways, and the Lord was with him” (1 Samuel 18:14). On the left: “Esther obtained favor in the sight of all that looked upon her” (Esther 2:15).

The gable displays two trumpeting angels on a balustrade. Set between them are emblems representing the families. On the right are two leopards holding a crowned shield containing a single spiral column; on the left is a fountain on a purple ground. In the niche above is an original Hebrew poem about the bravery of David and the beauty of Esther. The gable is crowned with an ornate cartouche containing the monograms of the bride and groom. On the bottom margin is “And their seed shall be known [among the nations]” (Isaiah 61:9).

S.S. Howland, who resided in Washington, D.C., traveled widely and was an avid collector. It is not known how this ketubbah came into his possession. Howland formed a collection of Buddhist religious art, which was given to the Smithsonian in 1904. It is notable that in the introduction to the catalog of Howland’s collection, Casanowicz indicates that “most of the objects were obtained by him from their original possessors.”[2] The implication is that the objects’ documentation had been properly collected.

Bibliography:

Adler and Casanowicz, “The Collection of Jewish Ceremonial Objects in the United States National Museum,” no. 139.

Casanowicz, “Collections of Objects of Religious Ceremonial in the U.S. National Museum,” no. 60.

NMAH 168312

Hanukkah lamp

NMAH 168312; acc. no. 28093

Italy, seventeenth or eighteenth century

Bronze

H 21.6 cm, W 21.6 cm, D 6.4 cm
Gift of Samuel B. Dean, 1894 Negative number 92–13275

Among the many types of Hanukkah lamps developed in Italy during the Renaissance, there is a distinct group that was influenced by architectural models. This example is representative of lamps with the backwall designed as a portal or gateway. The rounded arch also is associated with ancient Jewish architectural tradition symbolic of the Holy Temple in Jerusalem.[1] The flat backwall serves as a reflector for the Hanukkah lights.

This lamp came into the Smithsonian as part of a larger collection of heating and lighting devices presented by Samuel B. Dean of Arlington, Massachusetts.

Jonas Friedenwald tribute document

NMAH 285049.1; acc. no. unknown
Wolf Heller

Safed, Eretz Yisrael, late nineteenth century
Ink, gouache, and metallic paint on paper
H 54 cm, W 57.5 cm
Negative numbers 92–13113, 92–13114

This tribute document in honor of Jonas (Jonah) Friedenwald (1803–1893) was made in Safed by Wolf Heller. The composition includes the conventional nineteenth-century representations of Jerusalem and other holy sites in Eretz Yisrael.

In the upper half, two rampant lions support a seven-branched menorah. Each of the lions stands on a building (to the right, Rachel’s tomb; to the left, the tomb of Rabbi Meir Ba’al HaNes).[1] In the lower half are the Western Wall and the Temple Mount, to the right, and the tomb of Rabbi Simeon Bar Yochai,[2] to the left. A delicate flowering vine frames the illustration.

Friedenwald, who was born in Germany, settled in Baltimore in 1832. He became a successful businessman and was well known for his philanthropic deeds. Friedenwald was a founder of the Hebrew Orphan Asylum and of the Chizuk Amuno Congregation. The congregation honored him on his ninetieth birthday with a celebration attended by many dignitaries, including Sabato Morais and Benjamin Szold, who was a featured speaker.[3]

The maker of the document, Wolf Heller, was the grandson of Samuel Heller, who had served as chief rabbi of the Hasidic community in Safed, Eretz Yisrael. Ironically, Samuel Heller was the author of Sefer Taharat ha-Kodesh. published in 1864, which condemned the use in synagogues of illustrations of humans or animals.

The original accession records for this object have been lost. It may have been a gift of Jonas Friedenwald’s grandson, Harry Friedenwald.

NMAH 285049.1, neg. no. 92–13113

NMAH 285049.1, neg. no. 92–13114

Prayerbook for the military

NMAH 300827; acc. no. 61648
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, 1917
Printed on paper; bound in cloth
H 15.7 cm, W 10.5 cm
Gift of Cyrus Adler, 11 October 1917

A small pocket-sized Abridged Prayer Book for Jews in the Army and Navy of the United States was published by the Jewish Publication Society during World War II. The prayerbook contains daily and festival prayers, as well as American patriotic hymns, prayers in English for the government, and a Jewish calendar for 1917–1920.

Bible for the military

NMAH 302600; acc. no. 62178
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, 1918
Printed on paper; bound in cloth
H 13 cm, W 9 cm
Gift of Cyrus Adler, 28 March 1918

A year after publishing the prayerbook for those serving in the United States military, the Jewish Publication Society issued Readings from the Holy Scriptures for Jewish Soldiers and Sailors. The Readings contains portions from the Pentateuch, Prophets, Psalms, and other books of the Bible.

Cyrus Adler was a founder of the Jewish Publication Society and an integral member of its editorial board, which spent nearly a quarter-century preparing an English translation of the Hebrew Bible. The project was initiated in 1893, and the JPS Holy Scriptures was finally issued in 1917. The Readings were excerpted from the new translation.

Mizra

NMAH 314398; acc. no. 64944
Albert Pike

Richmond, Virginia, 1862

Ink on paper

H 88.6 cm, W 64.7 cm

Gift of Mrs. Simon Kann, 1920

Negative numbers 92–13078–92–13080

The Albert Pike Mizra is a tour de force of integration of text and image, created primarily with micrographic script. Included is the entire book of Genesis and a selection of verses from the prayerbook and the Bible that refer to daily ritual, ethical behavior, and charity. It also happens that the origin of this Mizra is rather controversial.

When the mizra was acquired in 1920 from the daughter of the maker, it was recorded that this work had been made by her father when he was 16 years old and that it was a Judaic item. In fact, when the museum acquired a printed copy of the mizra (NMAH 154417) from Aaron Friedenwald in 1890, it was presumed to be of Jewish provenance, and it appeared in several museum publications as such. Subsequent research reveals that it is very likely that the Albert Pike who made this mizra was not Jewish but was obsessed with mysticism and ancient texts.

Albert Pike was born in 1809 near Boston. His father, Benjamin, was a ne’er-do-well cobbler, and his mother, Sarah Andrews Pike, was a deeply pious woman whose mission became to protect her son from his father’s influence. It was her goal that he become a minister, and she read to him daily from the Bible. As a young man, Pike was sent to live with an uncle, who was to prepare him to enter Harvard. Pike studied Hebrew, Latin, and Greek and in fact he passed the junior-year exam with ease. His Harvard career went awry when the university insisted that he retroactively pay for the freshman and sophomore years as well. Because he could not afford the tuition, Pike went into a frenzy of rebellious activity and was soon dismissed from the university.

Like many others of his generation who sought adventure, Pike headed west to the frontier in 1831. When his funds ran out, he started teaching school at Fort Smith, Arkansas, then worked on a newspaper and began to study law. In 1834 he married and settled down to practice in Little Rock, Arkansas. With money from his wife, he purchased the newspaper where he had worked, and he became active politically. Pike became the Sovereign Grand Commander of the Ancient and Accepted Scottish Rite and was known as the “Second Creator” and “Moses” of the rite and the “master genius” of Freemasonry.[1] It is noteworthy that unlike in some European countries in which Masonry was based on Christian principles and therefore no Jews were admitted, in the United States there were Jews active in Masonry from the eighteenth century on.

Although Pike’s fascination with ancient rites makes it plausible that he made the mizra, the timing is something of a mystery. Pike signed the work twice: in Hebrew he wrote, “Abraham, son of Moses, 5622 [1862],” and in English he wrote, “Designed and executed by A. Pike, Richmond, January 6, 1862.”[2] At that time Pike, who had been involved with Native Americans since his foray to the West, was appointed the Confederacy’s commissioner of Indian affairs and brigadier general in command of Indian regiments. It is difficult to imagine Pike doing the precision work needed to produce this work while serving in this position.

Ironically, in March 1862, two months after this work was completed, Pike unwillingly led his troops into battle in Pea Ridge, Arkansas. Some of the Indians under his command mutilated the Union dead, and Pike revealed the atrocities in a letter of apology to the Union commander, an act that caused Pike’s life to unravel. Within several months he was relieved of his position, his property was confiscated by Union soldiers, and his marriage disintegrated. In an attempt to grapple with these overwhelming events, he fled to the Ozark Mountains and began an intensive, obsessive study and translation of classic ancient religious texts, including those of the kabbalah.

NMAH 314398, neg. no. 92–13078

NMAH 314398, neg. no. 92–13079

NMAH 314398, neg. no. 92–13080

The authorship of the work may never be definitely proven—was it indeed this Albert Pike, or perhaps another, Jewish Albert Pike who lived in Richmond, Virginia? Whichever Albert Pike made it was a master artisan and very well versed not only in the Bible but in Jewish liturgy also.

Bibliography:

Adler and Casanowicz, “The Collection of Jewish Ceremonial Objects in the United States National Museum,” no. 155 (NMAH 154417).

Casanowicz, “Collections of Objects of Religious Ceremonial in the U.S. National Museum,”  nos. 67 and 70.

NMAH 314490

Mizra

NMAH 314490; acc. no. 65066

Aaron Pasmanik

United States, dated 1882–1883

Ink and watercolor on paper; applied gilt border

H 46 cm, W 38 cm

Bequest of Henry S. Hartogensis, 1920
Negative number 92–13081

Mizra literally means “east.” The custom of signifying the eastern wall, which symbolically indicates the direction of prayer toward Jerusalem, developed in Ashkenazi communities. Although frequently the maker of a Mizra is unknown, it is interesting that there are a number of nineteenth-century examples made in the United States for which the artist has been identified.[1]

This Mizra incorporates elements from the Holy Temple. A portal effect is created by two columns, likely representing the pillars Jakhin and Boaz, which flanked the temple entrance, and an inscription with the four-letter name of God and a section from Psalms 113:3: “From the rising sun unto the going down thereof.”

The fanciful capitals of the columns, with segmented circles and C scrolls forming a heart, are akin to American folk art designs.

In the center of the Mizra is the portable Ark of the Covenant, which according to tradition held the two stone tablets with the Ten Commandments. Here the image of the Decalogue is superimposed on the ark and is surmounted with a six-pointed star containing the inscription “From this direction [i.e., the east] is the spirit of life.” The initial letters of the words of this Hebrew phrase create the acronym Mizra

Below the ark is a seven-branched menorah with Hebrew letters above each branch abbreviating the verse “The seven lamps shall give light in front of the candlestick” (Numbers 8:2). At the base of the menorah is a heart-shaped medallion with a Hebrew inscription in micrographic script: “Aaron Pasmanik, shohet and examiner, 5543 [1882–1882].”

It is not known how Hartogensis came into possession of the mizra. Casanowicz identified Baltimore as the source of the mizra, but it is possible he just made that association because Hartogensis was from Baltimore. Casanowicz cited the date of the Mizra as 1876, which appears to be incorrect.[2]

Henry S. Hartogensis was born in 1829 in s’Hertogenbosch, Holland, and came to America at age 19.[3] In Holland his family had been in banking, and when he settled in Baltimore, he began a financial stationery business. Later he and his sons were in the sporting goods business. He was extraordinarily active in communal affairs and was well known for his benevolent acts. Hartogensis was a founder of several synagogues, among them Chizuk Amuno, which he helped establish with his friend, Jonas Friedenwald. Hartogensis was manager of the Hebrew Free Burial Society for over 25 years and served as an officer of the Society for the Education of Poor and Orphaned Hebrew Children (Hebrew Education Society), as well as serving for 35 years as secretary of his lodge of the Knights of Pythias, doing much to aid widows, orphans, and the sick.

Bibliography::

Casanowicz, “Collections of Objects of Religious Ceremonial in the U.S. National Museum,” no. 68.

NMAH 314492

Micrographic illustration

NMAH 314491; acc. no. 65066

Hilel Braverman

France, mid-nineteenth century

Lithograph

H 36 cm, W 30.5 cm

Bequest of Henry S. Hartogensis, 1920

The art of micrography, of writing minute script into geometric or representational imagery, has its roots in antiquity, growing out of a tradition of using the written word as decoration.[1] There are basically two types of micrography that have been used in items of Judaica. The first category is similar to calligrams, which were used in ancient Greece and by the early Christians; the design is shaped by using unequal lines of text. The second group, which is distinctly Jewish, uses minute script to completely draw the images.

In this illustration, the image of King David playing a lyre is drawn in micrographic script using the text of Psalms 107–150. This identification is given in a French inscription: “Portrait du Roi David / contenant le cinquième livre des Psaumes / Ecrit en petits caractères par Mr. Hilel Braverman.”[2]

Bibliography:

Casanowicz, “Collections of Objects of Religious Ceremonial in the U.S. National Museum,” no. 69.

Torah pointer

NMAH 314492; acc. no. 65066
Germany (?), nineteenth century
Ivory, metal chain
L 27.4 cm (pointer)

Bequest of Henry S. Hartogensis, 1920
Negative number 92–13011

This Torah pointer is embellished with a narrow band of lotus flowers in the middle of the shaft and a wide band of alternating beaded and rectangular panels. A band of palmettes adjoins the hand of the pointer, which simulates a fist, with knuckles and nails articulated in the ivory.

Bibliography:

Casanowicz, “Collections of Objects of Religious Ceremonial in the U.S. National Museum,” no. 10.

NMAH 314493

Purim charity plaques

NMAH 314493 and NMAH 314494; acc. no. 65066
Baltimore, Maryland, late nineteenth century or early twentieth century

Painted tin

H 7.1 cm, W 13.4 cm

Bequest of Henry S. Hartogensis, 1920

Negative number 92–13038

These plaques were used as part of the effort to raise money for the poor during the Purim holiday, a custom that derives from verse 9:22 in the Scroll of Esther: “They were to observe them as days of feasting and merrymaking, and as an occasion for sending gifts to one another and presents to the poor,” Possibly the plaques were used as signs on a tzedakah box for collection of money or as some sort of token at a fund-raising event, typically a Purim masquerade ball.[1] A Purim Association to sponsor a yearly gala to raise funds for charitable causes was organized in Baltimore by Joseph Friedenwald in 1868.

One of these plaques is inscribed in Hebrew with “ma’ot Purim” (“Purim money”) and the second with “mazit shekel” (“a half-shekel”). Using the term shekel provided a biblical link. Described in Exodus 30:11–15, the half-shekel was originally a type of tax to be paid by each Israelite over 20 years of age to provide funds to maintain the sanctuary and the priests. Additionally, a reference to shekalim is made when the wicked Haman offered a substantial sum of money to King Ahasuerus for the Jews (Esther 3:9).

Bibliography:

Casanowicz, “Collections of Objects of Religious Ceremonial in the U.S. National Museum,” nos. 44, 45.

NMAH 326825

Seder plate

NMAH 326825; acc. no. 83695
Germany, eighteenth century

Pewter; hallmarks: MD, unidentified mark on rim (heraldic
shield with crescent, star, heart, and IA)

Gift of Miss L. Lieberman, 1924
Negative number 92–13036

The inscriptions and decorations on this plate seem to have been added at a later date. On the cavetto are the Hebrew inscriptions “Priest, Levite, Israelite” and “Solomon Lev, Hanan Engelmeyer, Baltimore, Abraham, Belah, Judah son of Solomon, M.H.F.”[1] The names appear to have been added at different stages, and not by a single engraver.

Along the rim is the order of the Passover seder. Some of the words are enclosed within frames. Some of the Hebrew may have been added after the inscription about the seder service, as these words cover the touch mark and the letters MD, which may have been the original owner’s mark.

Bibliography:

Casanowicz, “Collections of Objects of Religious Ceremonial in the U.S. National Museum,” no. 32.

Ketubbot

NMAH 326826 and NMAH 326827; acc. no. 83695

Baltimore, Maryland, 1839

Ink on parchment

Gift of Miss L. Lieberman, 1924

NMAH 326826: H 20 cm, W 16.5 cm

NMAH 326827: H 20.2 cm, W 17.3 cm

NMAH 326826

Groom: Yom Tov son of Nathan
Bride: Yutla daughter of Rabbi Naftali

Witness: Zvi son of Judah and Abraham (?)

NMAH 326827
Groom: David son of Moses
Bride: Beila daughter of Hirsch
Witnesses: Hayyim son of Naftali and (?)

Two weddings held on Sunday the 14th of Tishre 5600 (22 September 1839) are documented with these ketubbot from Baltimore. The ketubbot were written by the same scribe, who is unknown.

In addition to the seder plate and the two ketubbot, Miss Lieberman also donated a passport from Bremen dated 1834, which unfortunately is now missing.

Bibliography:

Casanowicz, “Collections of Objects of Religious Ceremonial in the U.S. National Museum,” nos. 61, 62.

NMNH 217676

Torah tiq with rimmonim

NMNH 217676,217677; acc. no. 207992 (orig. acc. no. 39909)
Probably Tunisia, nineteenth century

Case: Wood with gesso, paint, and gilt; metal barrel and pin
hinges

Finials: Wood with gesso, paint, and gilt
Case: H 88 cm, D 36 cm
Finials: H 41.6 cm, D 9.7 cm
Museum purchase, 1902, Deinard Collection
Negative numbers 92–13001, 92–13002

The practice of using a tiq (a case) for the Torah scroll is widespread among Jewish communities in Asia and North Africa. Scholars have traditionally identified the origin of this tradition as dating to the tenth century in Iraq.[1] The earliest documentary evidence is found in the lists of the Cairo Genizah, dating from between the tenth and twelfth centuries.[2] Graphic examples from illuminated manuscripts from Spain of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries depict both tiqim and Torah mantles in use.

NMNH 217677

According to Jewish law, the sacred Torah scroll is to be protected and adorned, and the tiq serves both of “these functions. Generally the tiq is made of wood, but it is often overlaid with silver or fabric with silver appliqués. The Torah scroll is read in the synagogue with the tiq remaining in an upright position on the reader’s stand. The scroll is not removed from the case.

This case is polygonal, divided into 12 panels. The decoration is composed of floral borders surrounding panels embellished with two vertical garlands composed of floral lozenges and vines. The crest of the case is openwork, made up of vertical fleurs-de-lis overlaid with floral lozenges, representing the keter Torah, crown of the Torah. The rimmonim have spiral shafts and central acanthus leaf knops; the body is composed of vertical scrolls of acanthus leaves and rosettes. The interior of the case is painted with floral motifs.

According to the original accession records, this tiq was acquired in Tunis.[3] The case bears some similarity to Sephardi examples in Italy.[4] A second tiq (NMNH 315221), similar in type but in extremely poor condition, came into the museum in the first Deinard loan in 1920.

There is a Torah scroll in the case that is clearly not original to this tiq.

Bibliography:

Adler and Casanowicz, “The Collection of Jewish Ceremonial Objects in the United States National Museum,” no. 20.

Haggadah

NMAH 217678; acc. no. 207992 (orig. acc. no. 39909)
London, England, 1813

Printed paper and etchings; gold-tooled leather binding

H 24.3 cm, W 19.5 cm

Museum purchase, 1902, Deinard Collection

This haggadah for Passover, in Hebrew and Spanish according to the Sephardi rite, was edited by Jacob Medula of Amsterdam. There are seven etchings with scenes of the Exodus, Mount Sinai, Jerusalem, and the Israelites wandering in the desert. There are also five maps of the Exodus route, Sinai, and Jerusalem. The haggadah was printed by L. Alexander, London.[1]

Bibliography:

Adler and Casanowicz, “The Collection of Jewish Ceremonial Objects in the United States National Museum,” no. 74.

Casanowicz, “Collections of Objects of Religious Ceremonial in the U.S. National Museum,” no. 28.

Sukkah Decorations

After the Exodus from Egypt, the Hebrews wandered in the Sinai Desert for 40 years. The central historical emphasis of the festival of Sukkot is the remembrance of that experience and the makeshift sukkot that provided them with shelter. In celebration of Sukkot, a sukkah (booth) is built, in which, according to Jewish law, one is to eat and even sleep during the weeklong holiday. Sukkot also marks the autumn harvest festival, and typically the sukkah is adorned with fruits and vegetables as a sign of thanksgiving.

Special customs of decorating the sukkah have evolved in different communities. In Italy in the eighteenth century, it became the practice to embellish the sukkah with paper panels illustrating themes and motifs pertinent to the holiday. Written in series, with each verse or stanza on a separate panel, the texts include both biblical passages and original verses. Because of the ephemeral nature of these panels, which were subject to the vicissitudes of the weather, very few of these sukkah decorations have survived.[1]

The Smithsonian has a remarkable collection of these decorations, representing eight different series of sukkah panels. They vary in technique, from the work of folk artists to professional craftsmanship. The sukkah panels are all from the Deinard Collection. A number of the sukkah panels came into the Smithsonian as part of a purchase from Deinard in 1902, and it is presumed they were all in his possession by that time. Though the exact provenance of the panels is unknown, it is possible that the majority of them may even be from one communal sukkah,[2] A seventeenth-century responsum notes a Sephardi custom of several families sharing a sukkah, which was likely necessitated by the lack of space in the ghetto.[3] Based on stylistic considerations and the spellings in some of the poems, it has been suggested that the sukkah panels are from the Piedmont province.[4]

Sukkah decorations with micrography

NMAH 217679, NMAH 217680, RSN 82631Z01; acc. no.

207992 (orig. acc. no. 39909)

Italy, eighteenth century

Ink and gouache on vellum, with paper border, on wood board

NMAH 217679: H 75 cm, W 59 cm

NMAH 217680: H 60.5 cm, W 58 cm

RSN 82631Z01: H 59 cm, W 57 cm

Museum purchase, 1902, Deinard Collection

Negative numbers 92–13096, 92–13097

These three sukkah panels are substantially more elaborate than other known examples. These are much larger in size than the other panels; they are the only examples executed on vellum; and they are composed of an intricate micrographic program. These three form a series with two other panels in the collection of the Jewish Museum in New York.

The central motif of NMAH 217679 is the initial words of the Ten Commandments set in a double arcade to represent the Tablets of the Law. Above each column of text are two crowns. A third, larger crown, labeled “crown of the Torah,” appears above the arcade, flanked by two birds. Together these crowns refer to “the crown of Torah, the crown of priesthood, and the crown of kingship” (Ethics of the Fathers 4:17). All of the decorative elements of the panel are formed with micrographic script drawn from the text of Kohelet (Ecclesiastes). The Book of Ecclesiastes is read on the intermediary Sabbath of Sukkot. The link between the Ten Commandments and Kohelet is surely based on the last verse of the book: “Fear God and keep His commandments” (Ecclesiastes 12:13).[1]

There is a similar sukkah panel with an architectural motif in the collection of the Jewish Museum in New York (F5851).[2] In the New York panel, Psalm 76 is written within a monumental arch. Psalm 76 is associated with Sukkot because of the phrase in verse 3, “In Shalem also is his tabernacle [sukkah].” The decorative elements, arch, flowers, and scrollwork are composed of verses from 1 Samuel 1:20, telling the story of Jonathan and David; much of it is in micrography.

Inscribed in the center of NMAH 217680 is the verse “You shall live in booths seven days; all citizens in Israel shall live in booths” (Leviticus 23:42). Two concentric circles composed of Hebrew script from Leviticus 23:40–44 form a medallion around the inscription. Between the circles is a frieze of fleurons and semicircles outlined with micrographic text from Shir baShirim (Song of Songs). This text is continued in the scroll tendrils in each comer. Along the borders is the Hebrew text of Proverbs 6:12–18.

RSN 82631Z01 is identical in decorative program to NMAH 217680. Inscribed in the center is the verse “After the ingathering from your threshing floor and your vat... you shall hold the Feast of Booths for seven days.” The remaining texts are from Proverbs. Forming the concentric circles is the text of Proverbs 11:30 and 12:10; within the circles are verses from Proverbs 15; and along the outside borders is the text of Proverbs 14:20. The scrolling tendrils contain text from various sections of Proverbs as well.

NMAH 217679, neg. no. 92–13096

A sukkah panel with the same iconographic program is in the collection of the Jewish Museum in New York (S1443). The texts on the Jewish Museum panel include Leviticus 23:42 in the central medallion, surrounded by Leviticus 23:40–44 and Deuteronomy 16:13. The panel also includes the Book of Ruth within the concentric circles and in the upper left comer. The text in the other comers is Proverbs chapters 8-11, and the border inscription is from Proverbs 11:24–30.[3]

Bibliography:

Adler and Casanowicz, “The Collection of Jewish Ceremonial Objects in the United States National Museum,” no. 107.

Casanowicz, “Collections of Objects of Religious Ceremonial in the U.S. National Museum,” no. 36.

NMAH 217679, neg. no. 92–13097

RSN 82631Z01

NMAH 217681A

Sukkah decorations

NMAH 217681A-D; acc. no. 207992 (orig. acc. no. 39909)
Italy, nineteenth century

Watercolor, gouache, metallic paint, and appliqué on paper

NMAH 217681 A: H 19.9 cm, W 27.3 cm

NMAH 21768IB: H 20.1 cm, W 27.9 cm

NMAH 217681C: H 20.1 cm, W 27.8 cm

NMAH 217681D: H 19.6 cm, W 27.4 cm

Museum purchase, 1902, Deinard Collection

Negative number 92–13098 (NMAH 217681A)

The four cardinal directions, east, west, north, and south, are marked by this series of sukkah panels. Each of the designations is calligraphed in the center of the panel within a border of a flowering vine, with clusters of four-petaled rosettes and pomegranates, and with composite flowers in each comer. The plaques are edged with a narrow strip of applied paper painted with metallic paint to resemble a bronze frame. The lettering seems to have been overpainted at a later date.

This series is similar in materials and style to the series NMAH 217682A-C, NMAH 333966S,T, and NMAH 217684, inscribed with Psalm 76, as well as to sukkah panel NMAH 333966W, which has the Hebrew blessing “And blessed shall you be in your goings” (Deuteronomy 28:6).

NMAH 217682A

Bibliography:

Adler and Casanowicz, “The Collection of Jewish Ceremonial Objects in the United States National Museum,” no. 107.

Casanowicz, “Collections of Objects of Religious Ceremonial in the U.S. National Museum,” no. 36.

Sukkah decorations

NMAH 217682A-C, NMAH 333966S,T
Italy, nineteenth century

Watercolor, gouache, metallic paint, and applique on paper
NMAH 217682A: H 29.4 cm, W 41 cm
NMAH 217682B: H 29 cm, W 41 cm
NMAH 217682C: H 29.7 cm, W 44.2 cm
NMAH 333966S: H 29.5 cm, W 41.3 cm
NMAH 333966T: H 29.5 cm, W 41.4 cm NMAH 217682A-C: Museum purchase, 1902, Deinard Collection;
acc. no. 207992 (orig. acc. no. 39909)

NMAH 333966S,T: Loan, January 1927, Deinard Collection;

acc. no. 207992 (orig. acc. no. 94763)

Negative number 92–13099 (NMAH 217682A)

These sukkah panels feature a strange doggerel in six parts about clearing rats out of the sukkah. Each of the verses is numbered. The central inscription is enclosed within an oval. A flowering vine, with tulips, carnations, and roses, forms a wide border. Composite flowers are in each comer. Details of the flowers are highlighted in gold paint, as is the simulated frame. Panels NMAH 217682A and B have two C-scroll cartouches in the middle of the upper and lower border. These all have the identical inscription “My help comes from the Lord who made heaven and earth” (Psalms 121:3).

This series is similar in materials, design, and script to NMAH 217681 A-D, NMAH 217684, and NMAH 333966W.

Bibliography:

Adler and Casanowicz, “The Collection of Jewish Ceremonial Objects in the United States National Museum,” no. 107.

Casanowicz, “Collections of Objects of Religious Ceremonial in the U.S. National Museum,” no. 36.

NMAH 333966L

Sukkah decorations

NMAH 217683A-C; acc. no. 207992 (orig. acc. no. 94763)
NMAH 333966L-N; acc. no. 207992 (orig. acc. no. 39909)
Italy, nineteenth century

Ink, watercolor, gouache, and metallic paint on paper
H 31 cm, W 43 cm (each panel)

NMAH 217683A-C: Loan, January 1927, Deinard Collection
NMAH 333966L-N: Museum purchase, 1902, Deinard Collection

Negative number 92–13105 (NMAH 333966L)

This series is composed of six sukkah panels, each containing an original celebratory rhyming poem about Sukkot. The verses build to a climax, the final line stating: “A redeemer will He bring, as the prophet says, and raise up the tabernacle of David that is fallen” (Amos 9:11). The verses of the poem are set within a vine scroll adorned with carnations, roses, and tulips. A composite flower is in the middle of each side of the vine.

Bibliography:

Adler and Casanowicz, “The Collection of Jewish Ceremonial Objects in the United States National Museum,” no. 107.

Casanowicz, “Collections of Objects of Religious Ceremonial in the U.S. National Museum,” no. 36.

Sukkah decoration

NMAH 217684; acc. no 207992 (orig. acc. no. 39909)

Italy, nineteenth century

Watercolor, gouache, metallic paint, and applique on paper
H 43 cm, W 29.5 cm

Museum purchase, 1902, Deinard Collection
Negative number 92–13100

On this single sukkah panel, the text of Psalm 76 is set in an aedicule of spiral columns with garlands of laurel leaves. The columns are carried on consoles in the form of caryatids. There is also a mask set into each of the capitals. Atop each column is a vase bearing an elaborate composite flower. The pediment of the aedicule is formed by a lozenge intersected with scrolls and flanked by two peacocks. In addition, there are paper-cut appliqués in the form of scroll-like emblems, painted to simulate gold. The panel is edged with a narrow strip of applied paper, painted to resemble a metal frame.

NMAH 217684

This panel is similar in materials, design, and script to NMAH 217681, NMAH 217682A-C, and NMAH 333966S, T, W.

Bibliography:

Adler and Casanowicz, “The Collection of Jewish Ceremonial Objects in the United States National Museum,” no. 107.

Casanowicz, “Collections of Objects of Religious Ceremonial in the U.S. National Museum,” no. 36.

NMAH 333966C

Sukkah decorations

NMAH 333966A-F; acc. no. 207992 (orig. acc. no. 94763)

Italy, nineteenth century

Watercolor and gouache on paper

NMAH 333966A: H 32 cm, W 43 cm

NMAH 333966B: H 32 cm, W 43.2 cm

NMAH 333966C-E: H 32 cm, W 42.5 cm

NMAH 333966F: H 32.5 cm, W 43 cm

Loan, January 1927, Deinard Collection

Negative number 92–13103 (NMAH 333966C)

This series is characterized by the inclusion of images of the arba minim, the four species of plant used on Sukkot, as prescribed in Leviticus 23:40: “You shall take the product of hadar trees, branches of palm trees, boughs of leafy trees, and willows of the brooks, and you shall rejoice before the Lord your God seven days.”

Motifs representing these species are in the four comers; each is labeled for identification.[1] Along the right and left sides, in the middle, is an image of the lulav, the palm branch bound together with the myrtle and willow. A six-pointed star is at the center of the bottom border. The simple lettering and rudimentary handling of the imagery suggests that this series is the work of a folk artist, who may have copied some of the motifs from another source.

The central motif of each panel is a Hebrew inscription within an oval wreath. The inscriptions are as follows: NMAH 333966C, Leviticus 23:40;[2] NMAH 333966A, Leviticus 23:42; NMAH 333966B, Leviticus 23:43–44; NMAH 333966E, “Blessed shall you be in your comings and”; NMAH 333966D, “Blessed shall you be in your goings” (Deuteronomy 28:6); NMAH 333966F, “Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the universe, who has granted us life and sustenance and permitted us to reach this season.”

NMAH 333966H

Sukkah decorations

NMAH 333966G-K,O; acc. no. 207992 (orig. acc. no. 94763)

Israel David Luzzatto

Trieste, Italy, c. 1775

Ink and watercolor on paper; linen canvas

NMAH 333966G: H 36.5 cm, W 49.6 cm

NMAH 333966H: H 35 cm, W 50 cm

NMAH 3339661: H 36 cm, W 57 cm

NMAH 333966J: H 36 cm, W 49.2 cm

NMAH 333966K: H 38.5 cm, W 50.1 cm

NMAH 3339660: H 50.5 cm, W 36 cm

Loan, January 1927, Deinard Collection

Negative number 92–13104 (NMAH 333966H)

This is the only group of sukkah decorations in the Smithsonian’s collection for which the maker has been identified. The attribution to Israel David Luzzatto (17461806) is based on a sukkah panel, clearly the work of the same hand, in the collection of the Jewish Museum in New York.[1] The New York panel is entirely different in format from the Smithsonian group. Larger and more elaborate, the Jewish Museum panel contains the entire book of Ecclesiastes written in micrographic script in the form of an astrolabe. The connection between the panels is based on the lettering and the floral elements.

The six panels in the Smithsonian’s collection are all the same in composition, with a Hebrew inscription set within an oval garland. The garland is formed of composite flowers alternating with urns and oval medallions. Each medallion contains a word, all of which together make up the quotation “You shall live in booths seven days; all citizens in Israel shall live in booths” (Leviticus 23:42). The central inscriptions are verses from Psalm 76. There is no panel with verses from Psalm 76:1–2, but it is possible that the series actually starts with Psalm 76:3, which contains the reference that links this psalm to Sukkot: “In Shalem also is his tabernacle.”

Bibliography:

Kleeblatt and Mann, Treasures of the Jewish Museum, page 86.

Sukkah decorations

NMAH 217685; acc. no. 207992 (orig. acc. no. 39909)

NMAH 333966R; acc. no. 207992 (orig. acc. no. 94763)

Italy, nineteenth century

Watercolor and gouache on paper

NMAH 217685: H 30.7 cm, W 45 cm

NMAH 333966R: H 31.5 cm, W 44.5 cm

NMAH 217685: Museum purchase, 1902, Deinard Collection

NMAH 333966R: Loan, January 1927, Deinard Collection

Each of these two panels is inscribed in calligraphic script with a phrase from the verse “Blessed shall you be in your comings and blessed shall you be in your goings.” The rectangular border is formed of a flowering vine. The script is similar to that of the single panel NMNH T11550 with the Hebrew word for “north.” The script is also similar to what appears to be overpainting on NMAH 217681A,B.

Sukkah decorations

NMAH 333966P,Q; acc. no. 207992 (orig. acc. no. 94763)
Italy, nineteenth century
Watercolor, gouache, and applique on paper
H 32.5 cm, W 44.5 cm (both panels)

Loan, January 1927, Deinard Collection

Each of these sukkah panels is inscribed with a blessing set within a large oval. The lines of the inscription are separated from one another by a budding vine motif, and there are fleurons in the four corners. The panel is edged in marbled paper, simulating a frame.

The inscription on NMAH 333966P is the Sheheiyanu blessing (“Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the universe, for keeping us in life, for sustaining us, and for helping us to reach this day”); that of NMAH 333966Q is the blessing “Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the universe, who has sanctified us with the commandments, and commanded us to dwell in booths.”

Sukkah decorations

NMAH 333966U,V; acc. no. 207992 (orig. acc. no. 94763)

Italy, nineteenth century

Watercolor and metallic paint on paper

NMAH 333966U: H 26.9 cm, W 36.5 cm

NMAH 333966V: H 26.5 cm, W 36.5 cm

Loan, January 1927, Deinard Collection

The inscriptions on these two sukkah panels are set within an oval frame with a cusped edge. In the comers are flowering branches. The inscription on NMAH 333966U is Leviticus 23:2; on NMAH 333966V it is the Sheheiyanu blessing.

Synagogue laver

NMNH 217687; acc. no. 207992 (orig. acc. no. 39909)

Tunisia, nineteenth century

Pewter

H 15.9 cm, D (rim) 11.5 cm

Museum purchase, 1902, Deinard Collection

The cup is identified with a Hebrew inscription, partly abbreviated, that reads “The Al-Fasi Synagogue, Tunis.” In the catalog description of this cup, the association is made by Adler and Casanowicz with a laver used in the Tabernacle and Temple for the ritual washing of the priests before entering the sanctuary to offer sacrifices (Exodus 30:17–21). Adler and Casanowicz noted the continuity of Jewish tradition with this ancient rite, remarking, “Some synagogues have in the vestibule a laver for the worshippers to wash their hands before performing the prayer which has taken the place of sacrifices.”[1]

Bibliography:

Adler and Casanowicz, “The Collection of Jewish Ceremonial Objects in the United States National Museum,” no. 43.

Casanowicz, “Collections of Objects of Religious Ceremonial in the U.S. National Museum,” no. 11.

Amulets

As part of the 1902 purchase from Ephraim Deinard, the museum acquired six manuscript amulets from Tunisia. According to traditional belief, protection against the evil eye is possible through the power of the shemot (the names of God), the angels, and the use of various biblical verses. Deciphering the inscriptions can be very difficult; not only is each amulet a complex formulation of these elements, but also the shemot and the verses are often written as abbreviations. Three devices are generally used. Notarikon (from the Greek for “abbreviation”) uses the initial letters of the words alone, which is considered to be equally effective as the complete citation. Temurah is cryptic writing in which substitution is made by means of various codes—for example, atbash, where the first letter of the Hebrew alphabet, aleph, is substituted for the last, tof, the second, bet, for the next to last, shin, and so on. Gematria is based on the manipulation of the letters of the Hebrew alphabet by means of numerical equivalents; thus, for example, Shaddai, a name for God, has the same value as the name of the archangel Metatron, which can then be cited.[1]

Immanuel Casanowicz was apparently fascinated by the amulets; he researched the various biblical verses typically used on amulets, investigated the forms of abbreviations, and then carefully outlined (and in two cases diagrammed) the amulets. Although very few of Casanowicz’s research documents remain from his long career at the Smithsonian, his notes and illustrations of the amulets were carefully maintained with the objects.[2] Casanowicz published his analysis of amulets in two separate articles.[3]

Amulet

NMNH 217688; acc. no. 207992 (orig. acc. no. 39909)

Tunisia, nineteenth century

Ink on parchment

H 34.3 cm, W 21.6 cm

Museum purchase, 1902, Deinard Collection

This amulet is apparently a standard item written by a scribe, with spaces left blank for inserting the name of the person to be protected. This was a common practice. Deinard may have acquired this item directly from the scribe, because it was never used.

Casanowicz research notes on amulets, (neg. no. 92–13122)

The text is written in two columns and in the form of a menorah, a rectangle with a row of triangles, two squares (each divided into 16 squares), and a circular medallion.

Bibliography:

Casanowicz, “Two Jewish Amulets in the United States National Museum,” pages 48ff., plate 2.

Adler and Casanowicz. “The Collection of Jewish Ceremonial Objects in the United States National Museum,” no. 176.

Amulets

NMAH 217689, NMAH 217690; acc. no. 207992 (orig. acc. no. 39909)

Tunisia, nineteenth century Ink on parchment

NMAH 217689: H 34.3 cm, W 21.6 cm

NMAH 217690: H 23.3 cm, W 12.5 cm

Museum purchase, 1902, Deinard Collection

These two amulets were written for Daniel son of Berakhah against evil spirits, sickness, the evil eye, and magic. It is customary for the person’s identification to include the mother’s name. Each of these amulets is a palimpsest, a reused manuscript, with the name of the original person erased and Daniel’s name inserted. In both cases, text and drawings are used in the formulary.

NMNH 217691

Bibliography:

Casanowicz, “Two Jewish Amulets in the United States National Museum,” pages 43ff.

Adler and Casanowicz, “The Collection of Jewish Ceremonial Objects in the United States National Museum,” no. 177.

Amulet

NMNH 217691; acc. no. 207992 (orig. acc. no. 39909)

Tunisia, nineteenth century

Ink on parchment

H 24.1 cm, W 24.1 cm

Museum purchase, 1902, Deinard Collection

Negative number 92–13115

This amulet was prepared for Deborah, daughter of Rachel.[1] The dedication reads, “In this month of Kislev, in the name of all, protect Deborah daughter of Rachel from all aches and pains, both physical and mental, in all parts of her body.”

In each comer there are squares divided into sixteen boxes, including inscriptions written according to the methods of notarikon and temurah. Along the border of the amulet and between the four magical squares are seven-line inscriptions with invocations to the divine name and to guardian angels. The central portion is devoted to an elaborate geometric design composed of micrographic script. The text includes verses of Genesis 49:22, triads of the 42-letter name of God, and variations of the divine name Shaddai.

Bibliography:

Adler and Casanowicz, “The Collection of Jewish Ceremonial Objects in the United States National Museum,” no. 179.

Casanowicz, “Jewish Amulets in the United States National Museum,” page 161.

M.R. Josephy, Magic and Superstition in the Jewish Tradition (Chicago; Maurice Spertus Museum of Judaica, 1975).

NMNH 217692

Amulet

NMNH 217692; acc. no. 207992 (orig. acc. no. 39909)

Tunisia, nineteenth century

Ink on parchment

H 19 cm, W 20 cm

Museum purchase, 1902, Deinard Collection

Negative number 75–084

This amulet, made for Hannah daughter of Rachel, contains an elaborate design in micrographic script. The shield-shaped form is surmounted by a crown and surrounds a pear-shaped element enclosing segmented circles. Along the outer borders are the blessings of Aaron, the high priest (Numbers 6:24–26), the dedicatory inscription, and a series of mystical names, formulas, and psalms written in the kabbalistic system of gematria and notarikon.

Bibliography:

Casanowicz, “Jewish Amulets in the United States National Museum,” pages 154ff.

Adler and Casanowicz, “The Collection of Jewish Ceremonial Objects in the United States National Museum,” no. 180.

Amulet

NMNH 217693; acc. no. 207992 (orig. acc. no. 39909)

Tunisia, nineteenth century

Ink and watercolor on paper

H 45.1 cm, W 36.5 cm

Museum purchase, 1902, Deinard Collection

Negative number 78–16715

This folk-art amulet is to protect a woman in childbirth and her newborn son.[1] This amulet too is a “form,” with the name of the woman in childbirth still left blank in two places. The bearer of the amulet is not indicated.

The central text contains invocations to God, the prophet Elijah, and the patriarchs against Lilith; it also contains passages from Psalms 91 and 120.[2] Lilith is considered to be the mother of all demons. According to Jewish mysticism, she was created at the same time as Adam and was his first wife. Because Lilith demanded equal rights, Adam rejected her. Lilith deserted Adam and established her own kingdom. The cruel Lilith destroyed her own progeny, and all of the children of the daughters of Eve are susceptible to her evil ways. Baby boys need protection against Lilith until their circumcision and girls until they are 20 days old. After that time, her power to destroy the child diminishes.[3]

NMNH 217693

In the upper margin there is a frieze with segmented circles at each end; there are also three panels containing quotations from Psalms 91:11 and Psalms 34:8 and the inscription “May the witch not live.” Between the panels are tulips. The lower margin is composed of three squares. The two comer squares each contain an octogram within a circle. The one on the right contains the divine name Shaddai and the inscription “Who guards the doors of Israel from all evil,” which is an acronym of Shaddai, the names of the archangels, and the names of the patriarchs. On the left is the name Shaddai and the inscription “Who guards the children of Israel from Lilith,” the names of Sanvai, Sansanvai, and Semanglof (the angels who were sent to seize Lilith), and the reference “Adam and Eve to be included and Lilith to be excluded [from the birthing room].” The central square contains an image of hands in the priestly blessing with the blessings of Aaron from Numbers 6:24–26.

Bibliography:

Adler and Casanowicz, “The Collection of Jewish Ceremonial Objects in the United States National Museum,” no. 174.

The following three amulets were likely acquired by Deinard at the same time and were accessioned into the Smithsonian’s collection as part of his later loans.

Amulet

NMAH 334040; acc. no. 207992 (orig. acc. no. 95111)

North Africa, nineteenth century

Ink on cut-out parchment

H 12 cm, W 7.9 cm

Loan, 1927, Deinard Collection

Negative number 92–13109

This cut-out shiviti-type amulet, so called in reference to the initial words of the verse from Psalms 16:8, “I have set [shiviti] the Lord always before me,” was written for Mayer son of Reuben. On the upper portion is the quotation from Psalms 16:8. Below is the text of Psalms 67 in the form of a menorah. Above the menorah, on either side, are schematic birds, and at the base of the menorah are lion-like forms. Both the birds and the lions are images typically used to refer to the cherubim that were atop the Ark of the Covenant in the Tabernacle (Exodus 25:18–22). Around the cut-out patterns and along the borders are verses from Psalms 145, Deuteronomy 23:4, and Psalms 35:10. Several names of God are written below the menorah.

NMAH 334040

Amulet

NMAH 334039; acc. no. 207992 (orig. acc. no. 95111)

North Africa, nineteenth century

Ink on parchment

H 16 cm, W 11.9 cm

Loan, 1927, Deinard Collection

This too is a shiviti-type amulet. Typically the verse from Psalms 16:8 is accompanied by the entire text of Psalm 67, here drawn in the form of a seven-branched menorah. Flanking the menorah is the 22-letter name of God. On the right, bottom, and left edges are the verses from Numbers 8:2, Numbers 18:13, and Psalms 119:113.

Amulet

NMAH 1978.2106.1 (original Deinard Collection catalog number unknown)

North Africa, nineteenth century

Ink on parchment

H 17 cm, W 15 cm

This is a shiviti-type amulet with Psalms 16:8 in the upper margin and Psalms 67 in the form of a menorah below. Various permutations of the divine name flank the menorah. Two circles flanking the base of the menorah contain the rest of Numbers 8:2 (right) and Leviticus 6:6 (left). On the lower portion, in interconnecting triangles, is the 22-letter name of God.

Italian Marriage Contracts and Divorce Documents

As part of the 1902 purchase from Ephraim Deinard, the museum acquired a single-sheet draft of a get (a bill of divorce) from Gorizia, Italy. The document was likely selected by Adler in his effort to acquire a range of objects reflecting Jewish customs and celebrations. In the subsequent Deinard accessions, the museum received other items from Gorizia, including drafts of a betrothal contract, seven ketubbot (marriage contracts), and another get.

Draft of a bill of divorce

NMAH 217694; acc. no. 207992 (orig. acc. no. 39909)

Gorizia, Italy, 1825

Ink on paper

H 35.5 cm, W 22 cm

Museum purchase, 1902, Deinard Collection

This is a draft of a standard get, a bill of divorce, dated the second of Adar 5585 (20 February 1825). The parties are Solomon ai son of Kalonymos and Rebecca daughter of Abraham ai Ha-Kohen. A second draft of this get, catalog number NMAH 315394A.57, is also included in the collection; the text contains a dittography and was thus void.

Ketubbah draft

NMAH 315394A.50; acc. no. 207992 (orig. acc. no. 65324)

Gorizia, Italy, 1762

Ink on paper

H 30 cm, W 20 cm

Loan, 1920, Deinard Collection

Friday the 12th of eshvan 5523 (29 October 1762) Groom: Moses son of Raphael (?) del Medigo (?)

Ketubbah draft

NMAH 334027; acc. no. 207992 (orig. acc. no. 95111)

Gorizia, Italy, 1770

Ink on paper

H 28.8 cm, W 19.6 cm

Loan, February 1927, Deinard Collection

The 14th of eshvan 5531 (2 November 1770) Groom: Moses David son of Shemariyah Luzzatto Bride: Eve daughter of Abraham Luzzatto

Ketubbah draft

NMAH 315394A.51; acc. no. 207992 (orig. acc. no. 65324)

Gorizia, Italy, 1773

Ink on paper

H 38.2 cm, W 18 cm

Loan, 1920, Deinard Collection

The first of Adar 5533 (24 February 1773)

Groom: Asher son of Dr. Isaac Luzzatto

Bride: Bilhah daughter of Moses efetz (Gentili), a widow

Ketubbah draft

NMAH 315394A.52; acc. no. 207992 (orig. acc. no. 65324)

Gorizia, Italy, 1776

Ink on paper

H 29.5 cm, W 20.7 cm

Loan, 1920, Deinard Collection

The third of Adar 5536 (23 February 1776) Groom: Jacob ai son of Abraham Caravalho[1] Bride: Sarah daughter of efetz efetz (Gentili)

Ketubbah draft

NMAH 315394A.53; acc. no. 207992 (orig. acc. no. 65324)

Gorizia, Italy, 1783

Ink on paper

H 28.8 cm, W 21.1 cm

Loan, 1920, Deinard Collection

The eighth of Elul 5543 (5 September 1783) Groom: Jacob ai son of Moses efetz (Gentili)

Bride: Rebecca daughter of Raphael Isaac efetz (Gentili)

Ketubbah draft

NMAH 315394A.54; acc. no. 207992 (orig. acc. no. 65324)

Gorizia, Italy, 1795

Ink on paper

H 28.6 cm, W 19.6 cm

Loan, 1920, Deinard Collection

The tenth of eshvan 5556 (23 October 1795) Groom: Mordecai son of David Ashkenazi

Bride: Gracia (or Bilhah, as the name is given later) daughter of

Samuel Luzzatto

Draft of betrothal (tenaim )

NMAH 315394A.55; acc. no. 207992 (orig. acc. no. 65324)

Gorizia, Italy, 1776

Ink on paper

H 20.5 cm, W 20.3 cm

Loan, 1920, Deinard Collection

Adar 5536 (1776)

Groom: Aaron ai (Vita) son of Isaac Morpurgo

Bride: Perla daughter of Joseph Perez

Ketubbah draft

NMAH 315394A.56; acc. no. 207992 (orig. acc. no. 65324)

Gorizia, Italy, 1776

Ink on paper

H 29.5 cm, W 20 cm

Loan, 1920, Deinard Collection

The eighth of Tevet 5537 (18 December 1776) This is a draft of the ketubbah for the couple mentioned in the entry for NMAH 315394A.55.

Draft of a bill of divorce

NMAH 315394A.58; acc. no. 207992 (orig. acc. no. 65324)

Gorizia, Italy, 1825

Ink on paper

H 35.2 cm, W 21.6 cm

Loan, 1920, Deinard Collection

The 28th of Sivan 5585 (14 June 1825)

The parties are Meir, called Emanuel, son of Benjamin
Ha-Levi, and Benevenuta daughter of Solomon ai Ha-Levi.

Blessings for the shofar

NMNH 217695; acc. no. 207992 (orig. acc. no. 39909)

Tunisia, nineteenth century

Ink on vellum

H 36 cm, W 24.9 cm

Museum purchase, 1902, Deinard Collection

The blessings for the sounding of the shofar are accompanied by mystical interpretations of the significance of blowing the shofar. Deinard likely knew of Cyrus Adler’s interest in shofarot[1] and perhaps for this reason offered this document as part of the 1902 purchase.

Bibliography:

Adler and Casanowicz, “The Collection of Jewish Ceremonial Objects in the United States National Museum,” no. 100.

Casanowicz, “Collections of Objects of Religious Ceremonial in the U.S. National Museum,” no. 35.

Simat Torah Documents

Simat Torah Documents

NMAH 217696; acc. no. 207992 (orig. acc. no. 39909)

Italy, 1868

Ink on printed paper

H 25.5 cm, 16.7 cm

Museum purchase, 1902, Deinard Collection

This printed form is a document made to honor participants in the celebration of Simat Torah. On this holiday, the yearly cycle of Torah reading is completed and then immediately begun anew. The person given the honor of reciting the blessing for the closing verses of the Torah is called atan Torah, “the bridegroom of the Law,” and the person reading the opening verses is called atan bereshit, “the bridegroom of Genesis.”

The name of the atan Torah is Shalom ibn Mordecai ayyim Castello. In the center of the document is a wreath enclosing the Hebrew words atan Torah. In a second wreath is an oval cartouche with the inscription “The fourth hakafah from the reader’s desk to the ark / the carrying of the torch on the day of Simat Torah / Shalom ibn Moses Da Padova.”

During the course of the service, there are seven hakafot, processions around the synagogue. All of the Torah scrolls are removed from the ark to be carried around during the processions. After each hakafah, in the joyous spirit of the holiday, it is customary to sing and dance with the scrolls.

The date is given in a chronogram at the bottom of the page.

There are four other examples of Simat Torah documents in the later Deinard accessions. Three are the same type of printed form. It is not known why more than one atan Torah is listed for 1868, when normally only one person receives the honor.

Document for the atan bereshit

NMAH 315394A.92; acc. no. 207992 (orig acc. no. 65324)

Italy, 1867

Ink on printed paper

H 24.6 cm, W 17 cm

Loan, 1920, Deinard Collection

The atan bereshit is Jacob Solomon ibn... Shalomiel Viterbo. The inscription reads: “The third hakafah / the carrying of the third [Torah] scroll from the reader’s desk to the ark / Moses Padovao [Da Padova (?)].”

Document for the atan Torah

NMAH 315394A.93; acc. no. 207992 (orig. acc. no. 65324)

Italy, 1868

Ink on printed paper

H 25 cm, W 17 cm

Loan, 1920, Deinard Collection

The atan Torah is Shalom ibn... Mordecai ayyim Castello. The inscription reads: “The first hakafah from the reader’s desk to the ark / the carrying of the sixth scroll / Akiva Da Padova.”

Document for the atan Torah

NMNH T-839 11–84, no. 53

Italy, 1867

Ink on printed paper

H 25 cm, W 16.5 cm

Loan, 1927, Deinard Collection

The atan Torah is Abraham ayyim Zephaniah Barozzi. The inscription reads: “The second hakafah / the carrying of the torch on the day of Simat Torah / Bezalel Da Padova.”

Document for the atan Torah

NMAH 315394A.94; acc. no. 207992 (orig. acc. no. 65324)

Italy, 1852

Ink on printed paper

H 27.5 cm, W 19 cm

Loan, 1920, Deinard Collection

This last atan Torah document is also a printed form, but it is of a different type and is earlier than the other examples. The atan Torah is Elijah ibn Abraham Isaac Shabbetai ai [Vita]. The inscription reads: “The carrying of the sixth scroll during the fourth hakafah / from the reader’s desk to the ark / Joab Joshua Tesoro.”

The chronogram on this document was calculated by a previous owner. N 6 is written on the reverse, suggesting that prior to its acquisition by Deinard it may have been part of another private collection. There is also a calligraphic exercise on the page.

Torah binder

NMAH 1978.2106.3 (orig. cat. no. NMAH 315208); acc. no. 207992 (orig. acc. no. 65324)

Italy, late sixteenth or early seventeenth century

Linen with silk embroidery

L 412.6 cm, W 19 cm

Loan, 1920. Deinard Collection

This Torah binder is woven in a simple flat weave in linen and is embroidered with red silk in a punto scritto technique, so called because the design looks like needle-stitch writing. The use of punto scritto motifs was popular in Italy for secular and church embroideries; they were used to decorate pillows, clothing, house linens, and altar cloths.[1] The design on this binder is composed of interlocking and flowering S scrolls on one edge and a simple band of floral clusters on the other side.

NMAH 315209, neg. no. 92–13013

NMAH 315209, neg. no. 92–13014

Torah binder for Rosh ha-Shanah

NMAH 315209; acc. no. 207992 (orig. acc. no. 65324)

Leonora Colorni

Italy, 1692–1693

Linen, silk thread

L 322.6 cm, W 8.2 cm

Loan, 1920, Deinard Collection

Negative numbers 92–13013, 92–13014

Italian Torah binders of such exceptional quality of design and workmanship from the seventeenth century are extremely rare. This Torah binder is especially important because the dedication is for Rosh ha-Shanah, the maker is identified, and the date is given. Ephraim Deinard knew it was an exceptional piece and enthusiastically described it in detail in a letter to Immanuel Casanowicz dated 13 June 1913.[1]

The central section of the Torah binder has an overall repeat design of flowers. The floral clusters, composed of ivory carnations, blue and white lilies, ivory pomegranates or buds, and a yellow lily are set in alternating rows. Interspersed are motifs of yellow and blue rosettes. The border is scalloped, containing alternating yellow rosettes and yellow lilies. Both ends are decorated with identical designs but different inscriptions. The inscriptions, including the name of the donor and verses from Psalms 98:6 and Psalms 19:8 begin on one end and continue on the other. One end begins with the inscription “With trumpets and the sound of the horn” (Psalms 98:6). Below this are two shofarot, each flanked by a curved trumpet,[2] embellished with flowers. Between the shofarot is the inscription “The Lord is my banner” (Exodus 17:15). Below the shofarot is the inscription “The law of the Lord is perfect, restoring the soul” (Psalms 19:8).

Arranged in two arches to identify the Tablets of the Law are the initial words of the Ten Commandments. The first half of the dedication follows: “For the honor of the Lord, the honorable woman, Leonora, wife of ananiah. ...” The other end has the following inscriptions in the same pattern as the first: “Raise a shout before the Lord, the King” (Psalms 98:6) and “The teaching of the Lord is perfect, making wise the simple” (Psalms 19:8). These verses are followed by the second half of the dedication: “... Colorni, may God protect him, the year 5453 [1692], according to the abbreviated count.”

Bibliography:

Mann, Gardens and Ghettos, no. 129.

Lion finial from a chair of Elijah

NMAH 315219; acc. no. 207992 (orig. acc. no. 65324)

Italy, eighteenth or nineteenth century

Wood with gesso and gilt

H 19.1 cm, W 7.6 cm, D 8.9 cm

Loan, 1920, Deinard Collection

Negative number 92–13015

The prophet Elijah is described in Malachi 3:1 as the “messenger of covenant [berit].” The term berit in this phrase has traditionally been interpreted as the covenant of circumcision, hence the custom of providing a chair for Elijah at the circumcision ceremony.[1]

The lion finial is a remnant of the backpost of an ornate chair of Elijah from the Deinard Collection that was on display for decades in the rotunda of the National Museum of Natural History. Unfortunately, the chair has been lost since the 1960.[2]

NMAH 315219

Bibliography:

Mann, Gardens and Ghettos, page 267.

NMAH 315222 and NMAH 315223

Torah crown and finials

NMAH 315222, NMAH 315223; acc. no. 207992 (orig. acc. no. 65324)

Conegliano, Italy, 1904–1905

Wood with gesso, paint, and gilt

Crown: H 25.5 cm, D 23.4 cm

Finials: H 24.5 cm

Loan, 1920, Deinard Collection

Negative number 92–13008

This is an unusual set of Torah ornaments, carved in wood and painted to simulate silver. The crown is constructed of four upright staves. Four acorns are affixed to the top of the crown, and four bands create three registers around the circumference. The inscription in the middle register reads: “Gift of Moses, firstborn son of Jacob Fano of Venice, to the holy congregation of the synagogue of Conegliano, 5565 [1904–1905].” The lower band is inscribed with the initial words of each of the Ten Commandments (Exodus 20:2–14).

Each of the rimmonim is carved of a single piece of wood. At the base of the shaft is a band of beading. The fluted shaft is bound by cyma molding at the top and bottom. The body is ornamented with egg and dart bands atop acanthus leaves. The finial is a ball enclosed by palmettes. Inscribed in Hebrew on the top of the shaft of each rimmon is the phrase “Tree of Life” (Proverbs 3:18).

The earliest record of Jewish presence in Conegliano, in the Veneto region in northern Italy, is in 1398.[1] The first Jews were moneylenders; later they were active as food and silk merchants. Moneylending was prohibited in 1548. The community was well established by 1560, although it was always small. A ghetto was instituted in 1637 and abolished in 1797 with the arrival of the French army under Napoleon. By 1866 there were only about 30 Jews living there, most of whom soon moved elsewhere.[2]

The magnificent synagogue, built in 1701, with its resplendent baroque ark, was in use until World War I. In 1918 only seven Jews remained, and the synagogue was closed. In 1952 the entire contents of the building were moved to Israel and reconstructed in the Italian Synagogue in Jerusalem.

The 1905 date for these objects, which seems to be indicated on the crown, is puzzling because of the diminished Jewish population at that time; there seems barely to have been a minyan of ten in the town. Moreover, there is the question of when Deinard could have procured the crown; his acquisitions in Italy all seem to have been made prior to or during his 1902 trip.

Synagogue shiviti plaque

NMNH 315229; acc. no. 207992 (orig. acc. no. 65324)

Eretz Yisrael, nineteenth century (?)

Limestone with bronze inlay

H 27.4 cm, W 24.1 cm, D 1.5 cm

Loan, 1920, Deinard Collection

A shiviti plaque of this type would generally be mounted on the wall of a synagogue. It is likely that Deinard acquired this plaque from a synagogue that had fallen into disuse. The complete inscription on this shiviti reads: “I have set the Lord, blessed be He, blessed be His Name, before me always. Jerusalem, may it be rebuilt and reestablished speedily and in our own day.”

NMNH 315246

Hanukkah lamp

NMNH 315246; acc. no. 207992 (orig. acc. no. 65324)

Iraq, nineteenth century

Brass

H 27.6 cm, W 45.7 cm

Loan, 1920, Deinard Collection

Negative number 92–13018

This lamp incorporates motifs reflecting its Middle Eastern origins. The overall architectural form of the back wall is that of a facade of a domed building resting on four pillars, the scalloped arch providing a decorative element. The crescent moon and stars are apparently drawn from Islamic symbolism. The hamsa, or hand (the root of the word in both Hebrew and Arabic relates to “five”) is a popular amuletic device among both Jews and Moslems, used to banish evil powers. On this lamp, the hamsa motif is used five times, thereby geometrically increasing the power against the evil eye. On the largest hamsa is an inscription in Hebrew: “Joseph is a fruitful vine” (Genesis 49:22). This quote is popular on amulets because of the allusion in the second phrase of the verse, “A fruitful vine by a fountain [ayin].” The Hebrew word for “eye” is also ayin; therefore the text is thought to be a good protection against the evil eye.[1]

Glass cups, now missing, were used to hold the oil for lighting the Hanukkah lamp.

Bibliography:

Josephy, Magic and Superstition, page 128.

NMAH 315280, NMAH 1978.2I06.3A,B, NMAH 315282

Set of Torah ornaments

NMAH 315280, NMAH 1978.2106.3A,B (orig. cat. no. 315285), NMAH 315282; acc. no. 207992 (orig. acc. no. 65324).

Franz Alexander (?)

Vienna, Austria, early twentieth century

Silver, parcel gilt; hallmark: FA

Shield: L 38 cm, W 29.1 cm

Finials: H 35.5 cm, D (base) 12.5 cm

Pointer: L 31.2 cm

Loan, 1920, Deinard Collection

Negative number 92–13010

All of the elements of this set of Torah ornaments are representative of Austro-Hungarian examples of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries: the cartouche-shaped Torah shield, with rampant lions supporting the Tablets of the

Law surmounted by a crown; the bulbous Torah finials, with an openwork body composed of floral clusters and hung with bells and the finial composed of a pedestaled crown on which an eagle alights; and the Torah pointer, with a fluted, slightly tapering shaft ornamented with chased panels of palmettes. The acanthus leaves are similar to those on the flaring upper portion of the finials.

It is likely that Ephraim Deinard purchased these Torah ornaments new. The maker was probably Franz Alexander, who was active in Vienna during this period.[1] The Smithsonian’s collection also includes a Hanukkah lamp by the same maker (NMAH 315307).

Mughrabi Ritual Objects

Prior to 1913 Ephraim Deinard purchased a group of objects that have been identified with the nineteenth-century Mughrabi community, those Jews who lived in North Africa before French rule began in 1912 and those who emigrated from there to Eretz Yisrael. These objects include copies of traditional ceremonial objects, such as Torah finials, and invented items never used as ritual objects, such as “wedding knives.” The Torah finials may have been bought by Mughrabi pilgrims as souvenirs from Jerusalem to be dedicated and used at their local synagogues.[1] However, recent research has not brought to light any evidence of these types of Mughrabi ceremonial objects persisting in use today.[2] The difficulty in puzzling out the origin of any of these objects gives rise to the likelihood that they were the invention of an enterprising dealer in “exotica” for unsuspecting visitors to Eretz Yisrael. Dating is difficult, although they are most likely from the late nineteenth century and are certainly prior to the 1906 establishment of what is now known as the Bezalel Academy of Art and Design.

Torah finials

NMNH 315288; acc. no. 207992 (orig. acc. no. 65324)

Silver H 22.3 cm

Loan, 1920, Deinard Collection

Negative number 92–13274

This style of rimmonim, one of several variations, is adapted from Bedouin jewelry.[3] The triangular silver piece is called ijāb in Arabic, because it is shaped like an amulet. When these are used as flaps on a woman’s hat, called a shaweh, they are hung with five short chains from which crescents are suspended. The number five and the crescents both are considered protection against the evil eye.[4] The panels used on the rimmonim are decorated with floral patterns and inscribed in Hebrew with the initial letters of the Ten Commandments (“This is the Law which Moses placed...” [Deuteronomy 4:44]).

NMNH 315288

Torah finial

NMNH 315293; acc. no. 207992 (orig. acc. no. 65324) Silver

H 29.5 cm

Loan, 1920, Deinard Collection

Torah finials of a second type are also a composite of jewelry pieces.[5] These are inscribed with the verse from Deuteronomy 33:4: “When Moses charged us with the teaching [of the Torah].” The inscription is engraved in a tremolo technique, which requires very little skill. Deciding on the authenticity of these rimmonim is made even more difficult because this same engraving technique is found on a number of Deinard Collection objects. These include several that are definitely invented pieces, among them a Torah “shield,” “wedding knives,” and an elaborate necklace.[6] All of the engraving seems to be by the same hand.[7] It is doubtful that Deinard himself had any role in making the objects or adding the inscriptions; it is more likely that he just decided to buy the entire group from some dealer.[8]

Torah “shield”

NMNH 315281; acc. no. 207992 (orig. acc. no. 65324)

Silver

H 37 cm, W 29.7 cm

Loan, 1920, Deinard Collection

Negative number 92–13273

This unusual “shield” is adapted from various pieces of jewelry. The central pattern was originally a belt buckle. A small metal plate inscribed with the initial words of the Ten Commandments surmounts the central portion. The Tablets of the Law are crowned with a thin sheet of scrap metal to make up a form that repeats this motif. On the bottom are two fluted metal cups that perhaps served as sockets for the Torah staves. Three bells are also attached to the bottom. On the back are several additional odd pieces of jewelry.

NMNH 315281

“Wedding knife”

NMNH 315356; acc. no. 207992 (orig. acc. no. 65324)

Silver

L 35.5 cm

Loan, 1920, Deinard Collection

Negative number 78–16719

No other examples of “wedding knives” are known that have been ascribed to this period and place. The blade may originally have been from a European-made fish knife. The Hebrew inscriptions, which were added at a later date, read: “The voice of joy and the voice of gladness, the voice of the bridegroom and the voice of the bride” (Jeremiah 33:11); “Praise him with loud-sounding cymbals” (Psalms 150:5); “The sound of neighing” (Jeremiah 8:16); “Bridegrooms coming out of their chambers” (paraphrase of Psalms 19:6).

Megillah and case

NMNH 315312; acc. no. 207992 (orig. acc. no. 65324)

Case: Silver, cotton thread

Handle: Silver

Scroll: Ink on parchment

Case: H 23.5 cm Scroll: 6.6 cm

Loan, 1920, Deinard Collection

The cylindrical case is engraved with alternating panels of scrolls and stars. A rosette is engraved on both rounded casings of the cylinder. Suspended from the top and bottom of the case are six pendants featuring a hamsa, circular disks, spheres, and other schematic forms. The scroll, which is incomplete, is sewn with cotton thread to a thin, narrow plate.

A related group of megillah cases with similar decoration does not have inscriptions but also seems to have been made up especially for the tourist market.[9] With the megillah cases, used for the Esther scroll read on the holiday of Purim, the likelihood that these were fabricated for unsuspecting tourists is reinforced by the fact that several of the megillot are incomplete and are in Ashkenazi rather than Sephardi script.

NMNH 315356

Necklace

NMNH 315362; acc. no. 207992 (orig. acc. no. 65324)

Silver

Chains: L 17.6 to 36 cm

Torque: D 15.9 cm

Loan, 1920, Deinard Collection

Negative number 74–9554

Fourteen disk pendants of two varying lengths are hung on a torque-like necklace. Each of the disks is decorated uniformly, with four appliqué circles and two enclosing loops. On the back of each disk is a single word in Hebrew. Together they form the following biblical verses: “Who so findeth a wife, findeth great good” (Proverbs 18:22); “And shall go forth in the dances them that make merry” (Jeremiah 31:4); “[A woman that] feareth the Lord, she shall be praised” (Proverbs 31:30).

NMNH 315362

Bibliography:

Josephy, Magic and Superstition, page 128.

NMNH 315286

NMNH 315342

Torah finials

NMNH 315286; acc. no. 207992 (orig. acc. no. 65324)

Silver

H 18.3 cm

Loan, 1920, Deinard Collection

Negative number 75–069

Several of the rimmonim have yet another form and inscription.[10] The engraving technique used on these, however, is also the tremolo type. The leaf-shaped bottle is engraved with a Hebrew inscription: “Jerusalem, rimmonim from [?]” On the back the Hebrew word for “Zion” appears with a six-pointed star. The star suggests that these too were likely made up for tourists, because use of the six-pointed star for ceremonial objets became prevalent after the First Zionist Congress, held in Basel, Switzerland, in 1897, adopted the symbol of the six-pointed star for use on the Zionist flag. The shaft is composed of tightly set filigree wires. It is attached to a central knop made of filigree openwork. The filigree workmanship is similar to Yemenite craftsmanship, yet these composite rimmonim are not of Yemenite form.[11]

Rosewater bottle

NMNH 315342; acc. no. 207992 (orig. acc. no. 65324)

Silver and turquoise

H 23.5 cm, D 6.9 cm

Loan, 1920, Deinard Collection

Negative number 2523G

Among the Mughrabi items in the Deinard Collection is a group of rosewater bottles.[12] These do not generally have any known ceremonial function, but they were commonly in daily use among Middle Eastern Jews. However, some of the examples at the Smithsonian have strange Hebrew inscriptions added at a later date: “Various kinds of spices” (from the havdalah blessing) and “For circumcisions and weddings. Jerusalem.”

NMAH 315309

Hanukkah lamp

NMAH 315309; acc. no. 207992 (orig. acc. no. 65324)

Germany, early nineteenth century

Silver; hallmarks: JK on backplate, NM and 12 on tray

H 14 cm, W 12.8 cm, D 53 cm

Loan, 1920, Deinard Collection

Negative number 315309

This lamp appears to be a variation of a Hanukkah lamp made in Berlin circa 1800, possibly by August Ferdinand Gentzmer.[1] This and similar lamps have an oblong oil tray with a hinged lid and an ornamental backplate chased with flowers, rococo scrolls, and shellwork. The maker is unidentified, and given the difference in marks, it is possible that the balustrade on the tray and the legs are not original to this lamp. Engraved at a later date on the front of the tray is the Hebrew word for “Jerusalem.” The writing style of the inscription is similar to that on other items in the Deinard Collection.

Megillah case

NMNH 315322; acc. no. 207992 (orig. acc. no. 65324)

Vienna, Austria, late nineteenth century

Silver, parcel gilt; hallmarks: R 7867, 7863, A C

H 29.6 cm

Loan, 1920, Deinard Collection

It seems that this case, which does not contain a megillah scroll, has never been used, and it is likely that Deinard purchased it new, as he did with a set of Torah ornaments and a Hanukkah lamp.[1] The case is typical of late-nineteenth-century Austro-Hungarian examples, with a baluster handle decorated with ribbons and fleurs-de-lis. The case has vine scrolls surrounding a medallion bounded by two C scrolls. The top of the case is in the form of a crown with a small ball finial.

An inscription was added at a later date. Interestingly, the inscription is engraved not in the medallion but on top of the crown: “Blessed are you, Lord our God, King of the Universe, who has sanctified us with thy commandments concerning the reading of the megillah.” The script is similar to that of Hebrew inscriptions added to other objects in the Deinard Collection.

Spice containers

NMAH 315333, NMAH 315336; acc. no. 207992 (orig. acc. no. 65324)

Eretz Yisrael, early twentieth century

Silver

NMAH 315333: H 19 cm, D (base) 6.3 cm

NMAH 315336: H 16.8 cm, W 5.5 cm, D 5.5 cm

Loan, 1920, Deinard Collection

Negative number 92–13029 (NMAH 315336)

The European tradition of using architectural forms for spice containers is reflected in these two examples made in Eretz Yisrael in the early twentieth century. They are clearly the work of the same artist. One is almost certainly inspired by the Yad Avshalom memorial in the Kidron Valley, in Jerusalem.[1] It is made in the form of a miniature circular arcade supporting a spire. The second has a peristyle supporting an entablature and conical sphere. Each has a stepped base to which a plaque was applied with the collector’s inscription: “Antiquities of Judah, from the collection of Ephraim Deinard, Jaffa, the Holy City.”

Also in the collection are two mezuzot (NMAH 315376, VMAH 315377) made by the same artist, with the same Near Eastern mark and the same Deinard inscription. The mezuzot also are architectural in form, constructed to look like turrets with a filigree pattern of brickwork and arched windows.

NMAH 315336

Deinard lived in Jaffa during World War I. It is not known if he commissioned these works.[2]

NMAH 315334

Spice container

NMAH 315334; acc. no. 207992 (orig. acc. no. 65324)

Budapest, 1905

Silver

H 21.3 cm

Loan, 1920, Deinard Collection

Negative number 92–13030

According to the accession record, this spice container was identified by George Lengyel as being the work of his father, Alexander Lengyel, who was a silversmith in Budapest, specializing in filigree work. This spice container is an excellent example of the filigree spice tower popular in eastern Europe in the nineteenth century. Because it was apparently purchased new and never used, it is intact, complete with all the original flags.

Deinard Collection Documents

When Deinard sent his second loan to the Smithsonian Institution, in 1927, in addition to objects he sent along personal correspondence and a sack of documents. In the Deinard accession file there is a note by Immanuel Casanowicz about the list of items accepted at the Smithsonian, commenting that the papers were not entered into the museum records and were to be returned to the owner. However, they were not sent. At some point Deinard’s correspondence was sent to the Registrar’s Office. The rest of the items remained untouched until the early 1970s, when Myron M. Weinstein, at the Library of Congress, began identifying them.

In this group of documents were the fifty Damascus marriage contracts. In addition, there is a fascinating collection of over one hundred manuscript and printed documents that Deinard amassed in the course of his travels in Italy. Included are marriage contracts and deeds of divorce, certification documents, broadsides of organizations, responsa, personal letters, poems, prayers, wills, and secular items, such as court documents.

Also found with this material were documents Deinard collected relating to contemporary Jewish life in Eretz Yisrael and a few miscellaneous documents, such as calendars from India and Egypt and Samaritan marriage contracts. An outstanding item is a leaf from Moses ben Jacob of Coucy’s SeMaG (Sefer Mitsvot ha-Gadol) from France, dated to the thirteenth or fourteenth century.

DAMASCUS MARRIAGE CONTRACTS

It has been asserted that Ephraim Deinard claimed to have found a genizah in Damascus.[1] Deinard allegedly discovered it in the ancient synagogue in the village of Guvar, near Damascus, on a first trip to the Middle East in 1899. It is certainly possible that Deinard was referring to these ketubbot in making the claim.[2]

There are 51 Damascus ketubbot in the Smithsonian’s Judaica collection. They range in date from 1738 to 1864. The majority are from the last quarter of the eighteenth century. This is the largest group of Damascus ketubbot known to exist. Two additional eighteenth-century Damascus ketubbot were acquired from Deinard by the Jewish Theological Seminary (JTS) in New York in 1921.[3] The oldest example, dated 1706, is at JTS. It was not unusual for Deinard to send part of a collection, or even part of a single manuscript, to more than one buyer in order to manipulate and maximize the price.

Unfortunately, most of the ketubbot have survived as fragments; the majority of the parchments have been cut down or otherwise damaged. Because they have been altered, it is not possible to describe them fully. There are two elements common to the Damascus ketubbot: They are all written in cursive script (often the names of the bride and groom and the amount of the dowry are written in square letters), and the text of the ketubbah is preceded by a typical blessing and good wishes (and male children).[4]

The signatures of the witnesses are typically very elaborate. Mordecai Galante (died 1781), rabbi and head of a yeshiva in Damascus, and his son Moses Galante (died 1806), who succeeded him, were signatories on at least seventeen of the ketubbot. The Galantes were a well-known family of Sephardi origin, among whom were numerous scholars. Mordecai Galante was known for his writings on Jewish law. A number of his sermons were published as Divrei Mordekhai, and some of his responsa were published as Gedullat Mordekhai. Sermons by Moses Galante, entitled Kolo shel Moshe, were appended to his father’s work. Moses Galante was also the author of a number of responsa, which were published in Livorno in 1809 as Berakh Moshe.[5]

There are basically four styles of ketubbot represented in the collection. The first group is written on parchment, and the individual documents have an applique of decorative paper forming an archway around the text. The “brocade paper” made by Marx Leonard Kauffmann the Elder (born 1735, died 1775 or 1785) was imported from Augsburg.[6] The upper border of these parchments is shaped, either as a semicircle or scalloped. Remnants of a bud finial, attached with string, are found on several of the ketubbot.[7] There are 21 of this type of ketubbah in the collection.

The second group, written on parchment or sometimes paper, is characterized by the drawing in ink of a simple gateway, in the form of either an arch or a triangle, that serves to frame the text. Several of these “undecorated” ketubbot are sufficiently intact for it to be possible to see that the upper border was generally shaped as well. There are 15 of this form in the collection.

A third group has painted decoration. In some cases the illuminations seem to be additions to the “undecorated” type noted in the preceding paragraph. One of the painted group has geometric designs (NMAH 315394A.1), and the others have floral motifs.[8] There are 11 painted ketubbot of this type.

A fourth group, of four ketubbot, is similar to Jerusalem marriage contracts of the mid- to late nineteenth century. These are written on paper and are illustrated with lavish floral compositions.[9]

The ketubbot are described here in chronological order.

NMAH 315394A.2

Eighteenth Century

The ketubbot in this group were acquired in February 1927, but their catalog numbers begin with 315394A, which is in the numerical sequence for the 1920 accession.

Ketubbah

Damascus, Syria, 1772

Ink and paper applique on paper

H 52.5 cm, W 35 cm

Negative number 92–13064

Wednesday the 27th of Adar II 5532 (1 April 1772)

Groom: Moses son of ayyim ha-Kohen Tarab

Bride: Dinah daughter of Isaac Romano

Witnesses: (?) Galante, (?) Levi

Dowry: 500 grush

This ketubbah is decorated with a paper applique border in the form of an archway around the text. The paper has a brocade-like texture with an overall floral pattern on a green and gilt background. A bud-shaped finial is attached to the top of the contract with string. This ketubbah is one of the most complete examples of this type in the collection.

Ketubbah

NMAH 315394A. 19

Damascus, Syria, 1794

Ink on parchment

H 34.3 cm, W 30.7 cm

Negative number 92–13077

Monday the 27th of Elul 5554 (22 September 1794)

Groom: Ovadiah son of Joseph Zerahiyah

Bride: Rumiyyah daughter of Abraham Zeraiyah

Witness: Joseph ben Menashe ha-Kohen Arazi

Dowry: 300 grush

The text is written within a pointed arch set within a rectangle. The ketubbah is undecorated.

NMAH 315394A.1

Ketubbah

NMAH 315394A. 1

Damascus, Syria, 1729

Ink and gouache on parchment

H 41.3 cm, W 26.7 cm

Thursday the fifth of Elul 5489 (30 August 1729)

Groom: Mordecai son of Shabbtai Shuweikah ha-Kohen

Bride: Siti daughter of Jacob (?) of blessed memory

Witness: Menasseh ha-Kohen (?)

The ketubbah is painted with geometric motifs. The upper portion is decorated with two six-pointed stars set within a circular medallion flanked by two small segmented circles. The border consists of a series of segmented circles drawn in with a compass and then painted.

Ketubbah

NMAH 315394A.3

Damascus, Syria, 1771

Ink and paper applique on paper

H 43.4 cm, W 33.4 cm

Friday the 19th of Tishri 5532 (27 September 1771)

Groom: Yeshuah son of Aaron Tabak

Bride: Reinah daughter of Jacob Fainah (or Bainah)

Witness: ayyim (?)

Dowry: 1,500 grush

This is of the same type as NMAH 315394A.2.

Ketubbah

NMAH 315394A.4

Damascus, Syria, 1774

Ink and gouache on parchment

H 33.4 cm, W 29.3 cm

Wednesday the 11th of Nisan 5534 (23 March 1774)

Groom: Bezalel son of Moses ha-Levi

Bride: Esther daughter of Joseph ha-Levi

Witness: (?) Galante

Dowry: 550 grush

The text of the ketubbah is framed with an oval arch. The borders are painted with floral motifs, only traces of which remain.

Ketubbah

NMAH 315394A.5

Damascus, Syria, 1781

Ink and paper applique (lost) on parchment

H 27 cm, W 37 cm

Tuesday the 11th of Shevat 5541 (6 February 1781)

Groom: Eliyah son of Raamim ha-Kohen

Bride: Esther daughter of Samuel ha-Kohen

Witnesses: (?) Galante, ayyim ha-Levi

The text is written within a semicircular arch set within a rectangle. Only fragments of the paper applique remain on the borders.

Ketubbah

NMAH 315394A.6

Damascus, Syria, 1781

Ink and paper applique (lost) on parchment

H 33 cm, W 36 cm

Tuesday the 21st of Elul 5541 (11 September 1781)

Groom: Isaac son of Yom Tov ha-Kohen Arazi

Bride: Baida daughter of the elder Yehudah ha-Levi

Witnesses: Levi, Joseph (?)

Dowry: 500 grush

Traces of the paper applique forming an arch surrounding the text are all that remain of the decoration.

Ketubbah

NMAH 315394A.7

Damascus, Syria, 1782

Ink and paper applique (lost) on parchment

H 49 cm, W 33 cm

Friday the 25th of Sivan 5542 (7 June 1782)

Groom: Joseph son of Mordecai Zerahiyah

Bride: Esther daughter of Ovadiah ha-Levi

Witnesses: Galante, Levi (?)

Dowry: 1,000 grush

The parchment is rectangular with a scalloped arch on the upper edge. Although this is one of the ketubbot that are most intact in terms of size, the decoration is entirely lost.

Ketubbah

NMAH 315394A.8

Damascus, Syria, 1784

Ink on parchment

H 22.7 cm, W 30.6 cm

Wednesday the second of Nisan 5544 (24 March 1784)

Groom: Abraham son of Joseph ha-Levi

Bride: Esther daughter of David Hawisti

Witness: David Duweik (Duwayk) ha-Kohen

The text is set within a rectangular frame. The remainder has been cut off.

Ketubbah

NMAH 315394A.9

Damascus, Syria, 1784

Ink and paper appliqué on paper

H 24 cm, W 25.5 cm

Tuesday the fifth of Si van 5544 (25 May 1784)

Groom: Isaac son of Jacob Levi, known as Khur

Bride: Dibiyyah daughter of Abraham Zeraiyah

Witnesses: Aaron ha-Levi, Moses (?) Galante

Dowry: 300 grush

This is of the same type as NMAH 315394A.2.

Ketubbah

NMAH 315394A.10

Damascus, Syria, 1784

Ink and paper applique on parchment

H 42.5 cm, W 36 cm

Friday the eighth of Tevet 5544 (2 January 1784)

Groom: Abraham son of ayyim Muhdib (?)

Bride: Malkah daughter of Musafia Muhdib

Witnesses: (?) Galante, ayyim ha-Levi

Dowry: 500 grush

This is of the same type as NMAH 315394A.2.

Ketubbah

NMAH 315394A. 11

Damascus, Syria, 1784

Ink and paper applique on parchment

H 30 cm, W 40 cm

Tuesday the 18th of Shevat 5544 (10 February 1784)

Groom: Moses son of Isaac Yonah

Bride: Aziziyah daughter of ayyim Muhdib

Witnesses: Mordecai al-Kamfaji (?), Abraham ha-Levi

Dowry: 600 grush

This is of the same type as NMAH 315394A.2.

Ketubbah

NMAH 315394A. 12

Damascus, Syria, 1785

Ink and gouache on parchment

H 35.3 cm, W 32.5 cm

Tuesday the 24th of Kislev 5545 (7 December 1785)

Groom: Abraham son of Joseph ha-Levi

Bride: Y’kot daughter of Yeshua Yedia

Witnesses: (?) Galante, ayyim Moses Sholet (?)

Dowry: 700 grush

This parchment is rectangular with an arched and scalloped upper edge. The text is written within a semicircular arch set within a rectangle. The ketubbah is painted with a border of floral motifs, much of which is lost.

Ketubbah

NMAH 315394A.13

Damascus, Syria, 1789

Ink and paper applique on parchment

H 48.8 cm, W 33.5 cm

(?) Nisan 5549 (1789)

Groom: Jacob son of (A)ziz (?)

Bride: Suriyyah daughter of (?)

Witnesses: (?) Galante, Abraham ha-Levi

Dowry: 400 grush

This is of the same type as NMAH 315394A.2.

Ketubbah

NMAH 315394A.14

Damascus, Syria, 1789

Ink and paper applique (lost) on paper

H 43 cm, W 26.2 cm

Wednesday the 16th of Sivan 5549 (10 June 1789)

Groom: Joseph son of Mordecai Rakak

Bride: Sima daughter of Moses ha-Kohen Shawikiyyah

Witnesses: (?) Galante, Yom Tov Arazi ha-Kohen

Dowry: 250 grush

This is of the same type as NMAH 315394A.2.

Ketubbah

NMAH 334028

Damascus, Syria, 1792

Ink on parchment H 44 cm, W 33.5 cm

Tuesday the fifth of Adar 5552 (28 February 1792)

Groom: Nathan son of ayyim Hashir

Bride: Habibi daughter of Ovadiah Hashir

Witness: (?) Galante

Dowry: 500 grush

The text is written within a semicircular arch set within a rectangle. The ketubbah is undecorated.

Ketubbah

NMAH 315394A.15

Damascus, Syria, 1792

Ink on paper H 45.2 cm, W 30.5 cm

Sunday the 14th of Tishri 5553 (30 September 1792)

Groom: Shabtai son of Abraham ha-Levi

Bride: Rosa daughter of Yeshua Halabi

Witnesses: Joseph son of Menasseh ha-Kohen Arazi, Abraham ha-Levi

Dowry: 450 grush

The text is written in a rectangular frame. The ketubbah is undecorated. A codicil states that the husband undertakes to support his stepson for ten years.

Ketubbah

NMAH 315394A.16

Damascus, Syria, 1793

Ink on parchment

H 20 cm, W 36 cm

Thursday the 16th of Tevet 5554 (19 December 1793)

Groom: ayyim son of Judah B-(?)

Bride: Rachel daughter of Isaiah Bakiriyah

Witness: Joseph (?)

Dowry: 215 grush

The text is written within a rectangular frame. The ketubbah is undecorated. In the year, the five that occupied the thousandth place was erased and a four substituted, apparently to make the ketubbah seem a hundred years earlier (that is, 5454).

Ketubbah

NMAH 315394A.17

Damascus, Syria, 1794

Ink on parchment

H 35.7 cm, W 30.6 cm

Thursday the tenth of Nisan 5554 (10 April 1794)

Groom: Nissim son of Abraham ha-Levi Lati

Bride: Murina daughter of Abraham Zarid

Witnesses: Moses Galante, Joseph ben Menashe ha-Kohen Arazi

Dowry: 75 grush

The text is written in a semicircular arch set within a rectangle. The ketubbah is undecorated. The bride was a widow.

Ketubbah

NMAH 315394A.18

Damascus, Syria, 1794

Ink on parchment

H 43 cm, W 31 cm

Monday the 14th of Nisan 5554 (14 April 1794)

Groom: Moses son of Joseph ha-Kohen

Bride: Suriyyah daughter of Isaac ha-Kohen

Witness: Mordecai Perez

Dowiy: 400 grush

The parchment is rectangular with a pointed upper edge. The text is written within a semicircular arch set in a rectangle. The ketubbah is undecorated.

Ketubbah

NMAH 315394A.20

Damascus, Syria, 1795

Ink on parchment

H 40.2 cm, W 28 cm

Tuesday the first of Tevet 5555 (1 January 1795)

Groom: Moses son of David Zalta

Bride: Naama daughter of Joseph Hamawi

Witnesses: The young Joseph Mordecai Duweik (Duwayk) ha-Kohen, Abraham ha-Levi.

Dowiy: 250 grush

The parchment is rectangular with an arched and scalloped upper edge. The text is written within a semicircular arch set in a rectangle. The ketubbah is undecorated.

Ketubbah

NMAH 315394A.21

Damascus, Syria, 1797

Ink on parchment

H 21.7 cm, W 35.6 cm

Tuesday the 16th of Adar 5557 (14 February 1797)

Groom: Moses son of alfon Adjiman

Bride: Yakut daughter of Abraham Aroukh

Witnesses: Moses Galante, Joseph son of Menasseh ha-Kohen Arazi

Dowry: 500 grush

The text is framed by a pointed arch set within a rectangle. The ketubbah is undecorated.

Ketubbah

NMAH 315394A.22

Damascus, Syria, 1797

Ink and gouache on parchment

H 35.5 cm, W 35.5 cm

Friday the 26th of Tammuz 5557 (20 July 1797)

Groom: Ovadiah son of Jacob Mindah (?)

Bride: Sima daughter of Solomon ha-Kohen Ma’ili

Witness: Moses Galante Dowry: 950 grush

The parchment has an arched and scalloped upper edge. The text is framed by a semicircular arch set within a rectangle. The ketubbah is painted with green hearts and what seem to be primitive flowers. There is a problem with the date, which appears to be the 26th of Tammuz. That date in 5557 was a Thursday, not Friday, as indicated, but the document is signed and witnessed.

Ketubbah

NMAH 315394A.23

Damascus, Syria, 1797

Ink on parchment

H 31.4 cm, W 25.8 cm

Tuesday the 10th of EIul 5559 (1 September 1797)

Groom: Jacob son of Isaac Zayyin

Bride: Qamar daughter of Solomon Shakifti

Witness: Abraham ha-Levi

Dowry: 500 grush

The text is framed by a semicircular arch set within a rectangle. The ketubbah is undecorated.

Early Nineteenth Century

Ketubbah

NMAH315394A.24

Damascus, Syria, 1801

Ink on parchment

H 18 cm, W 34 cm

Tuesday the 1lth of Adar 5561 (24 February 1801)

Groom: Mordecai son of Shabtai ha-Kohen Helou

Bride: Shukra daughter of Abraham Zerahiyah

Witnesses: Abraham ha-Levi, Gabriel Sitehon

Dowry: 700 grush

The text is framed by a rectangle. The rest of the ketubbah has been cut off.

Ketubbah

NMAH 315394A.25

Damascus, Syria, 1802

Ink and gouache on parchment

H 36 cm, W 29 cm

Tuesday the 14th of Adar 1 5562 (16 February 1802)

Groom: Isaac son of Abud Mizrai

Bride: Sarah daughter of Abraham Muwas

Witnesses: lost

Dowry: incomplete

The text of this ketubbah is framed by a pointed arch set within a rectangle similar to NMAH 315294A.19. The spandrels have been painted in. The composition is similar to that of later Damascus ketubbot, which are similar to Jerusalem ketubbot of the same period, with a central vase and flowering vines. It is possible the decoration was added to the ketubbah at a later date.

Ketubbah

NMAH 334025; acc. no. 207992 (orig. acc. no. 65324)

Damascus, Syria, 1802

Ink and paper applique on parchment

H 30.5 cm, W 28.4 cm

Tuesday the 23rd of lyar 5562 (25 May 1802)

Groom: Isaac son of Solomon Zaituni

Bride: Esther daughter of Abraham Romano

Witnesses: (Joseph) son of Menasseh (ha-Kohen Arazi)

Dowry: 800 grush

This is of the same type as NMAH 315394A.2, The paper applique used on this ketubbah differs from other examples. The pattern is an overall grid of laurel leaves forming diamond-shaped lozenges.

NMAH 315394A.27

Ketubbah

NIMAH 315394A.27

Damascus, Syria, 1806

Ink and gouache on parchment

H 39.2 cm, W 30.4 cm

Negative number 89–21186

Wednesday the 14th of Nisan 5566 (2 April 1806)

Groom: Benjamin son of Nissim ha-Kohen Mosoli (?)

Bride: Zarafiyyah daughter of Mordecai Bezini (or Bizini)

Witnesses: Moses Galante, Samuel Duweik ha-Kohen

Dowry: 1,500 grush

The parchment is rectangular with an arched and scalloped upper edge. The text is framed by a pointed arch set within a rectangle. The side margins are painted with a frieze of alternating triangles. The section above the text is decorated with flowers. The groom’s name may be Muslawi, “of Mosul.”

Ketubbah

NMAH 334026; acc. no. 207992 (orig. acc. no. 65324)

Damascus, Syria, 1803

Ink and gouache on parchment

H 34 cm, W 32.2 cm

Friday the second of Nisan 5563 (25 March 1803)

Groom: Elijah son of akham Isaac ha-Kohen Duweik

Bride: Signorola daughter of Jacob ha-Kohen Duweik

Witnesses: Moses Galante, Abraham ha-Levi (Jonathan)

Dowry: 1,050 grush

The text is framed by a semicircular arch set within a rectangle. The ketubbah is ornamented with floral motifs, which may be a later addition. Also, at some point someone practiced writing the ligature over and over and also did some calculations.

Ketubbah

NMAH 315394A.26

Damascus, Syria, 1803

Ink and paper applique on parchment

H 39 cm, W 38 cm

Friday the 21st of Iyar 5563 (13 May 1803)

Groom: Mordecai, called D’nah, son of Abraham

Bride: Sarah daughter of Jacob Romano

Witnesses: Moses Galante, Mordecai Perez

Dowry: 1,200 grush

Traces of the paper applique forming an arch around the text are all that remains of the decoration.

Ketubbah

NMAH 315394A.28

Damascus, Syria, 1806

Ink on parchment H 30.3, W 35 cm

Wednesday the 14th of Nisan 5566 (2 April 1806)

Groom: Sa’adiah son of Amram Ma’aravi

Bride: Sarah daughter of Isaac Tabak

Witnesses: Moses Galante, Samuel ha-Kohen Duweik

Dowry: 1,500 grush

The text is framed by a semicircular arch set within a rectangle. The ketubbah is undecorated. The groom’s name, Ma’aravi, indicates that he was Mughrabi, from Morocco.

Ketubbah

NMAH 315394A.29

Damascus, Syria, 1807

Ink and paper applique on parchment

H 32 cm, W 31.5 cm

Tuesday the sixth of Nisan 5567 (14 April 1807)

Groom: ayyim son of Bezini

Bride: (M)atot (?) daughter of Yom Tov ha-Kohen Luzayr

Witnesses: Abraham ha-Levi, Samuel ha-Kohen Duweik

Dowry: 2,500 grush

This is of the same type as NMAH 315394.2, although only traces of the brocade paper remain.

Ketubbah

NMAH 315394A.30

Damascus, Syria, 1807

Ink on paper

H 43.5 cm, W 29.6 cm

Wednesday the second of Tammuz 5567 (8 July 1807)

Groom: ayyim son of Eliyah Museiri (?)

Bride: Esther daughter of Joseph Saraf

Witnesses: undeciphered

Dowry: 700 grush

The text is framed by a pointed arch set within a rectangle. The ketubbah is undecorated.

Ketubbah

NMAH 315394A.31

Damascus, Syria, 1808

Ink and paper applique on parchment

H 34.5 cm, W 35.4 cm

Tuesday the ninth of Adar 5568 (8 March 1808)

Groom: Nissim ha-Kohen son of Isaac Saweid

Bride: Miriam daughter of Abraham ha-Levi Kalatis (or Kalatnos)

Witnesses: Aaron ha-Kohen Tarab, the young Samuel ha-Kohen Duweik

Dowry: 905 grush

This is of the same type as NMAH 315394A.2.

Ketubbah

NMAH 315394A.32

Damascus, Syria, 1810

Ink and paper applique on parchment

H 50 cm, W 42 cm

Tuesday the sixth of Nisan 5570 (10 April 1810)

Groom: Joseph son of Jacob Zaituni

Bride: Esther daughter of Simeon Sasson

Witnesses: undeciphered

Dowry: 1,000 grush

This is of the same type as NMAH 315294A.2. Much of the brocade paper is lost, but one section has embossed letters spelling out Augsburg, M.L. Kauffmann.

Ketubbah

NMAH 315394A.33

Damascus, Syria, 1812

Ink and paper applique (lost) on parchment

H 27 cm, W 36 cm

Friday the 23rd of Kislev 5573 (27 November 1812)

Groom: Elijah son of Samuel Museiri

Bride: Naama daughter of Moses ha-Kohen Tzema

Witnesses: Ezra ayyim Duweik ha-Kohen, Samuel ha-Kohen Duweik

Dowiy: 1,500 grush

This is of the same type as NMAH 315394A.2.

Ketubbah

NMAH 315394A.34

Damascus, Syria, 1814

Ink and paper applique on parchment

H 27 cm, W 38 cm

Tuesday the 24th of Adar 5574 (16 March 1814)

Groom: Judah son of Nathaniel Zerahiyah

Bride: Mazal daughter of Raphael Zacah (?)

Witnesses: lost

Dowry: 1,550 grush

This is of the same type as NMAH 315394A.2. The parchment has been cut down, so much of the ketubbah is lost.

Ketubbah

NMAH 315394A.35

Damascus, Syria, 1814

Ink and paper applique (lost) on parchment

H 39 cm, W 34 cm

Friday the tenth of Elul 5574 (26 August 1814)

Groom: Isaac son of Abraham Hakim

Bride: Mazal Tov daughter of Joseph ha-Levi Khulaf

Witness: Aaron ha-Kohen Tarab

Dowry: 3,005 grush

This is of the same type as NMAH 315394A.2. In addition to the customary introductory blessings and good wishes, quotes from Ruth 4:11 and Genesis 27:28 frame the ketubbah text.

Ketubbah

NMAH 315394A.36

Damascus, Syria, 1814–1815

Ink and paper applique (lost) on parchment

H 21 cm, W 30 cm

Friday (?) 5575 (1814–1815)

Groom: Joseph son of Nissim Zeraiyah of blessed memory

Bride: Jamaliyyah daughter of (?) Zeraiyah

Witnesses: lost

The ketubbah has suffered extensive water damage, obliterating much of the text. A Hebrew inscription written in the arch of the parchment is a copy of the text that was damaged.

Ketubbah

NMAH 315394A.37 Damascus, Syria, 1821

Ink on paper; gouache on parchment; cotton thread

H 49 cm, W 29 cm

(?) the 14th (?) of Tishri 5581 (1821)

Groom: Nissim son of (?)

Bride: Esther daughter of Joseph ha-Kohen (?)

Witnesses: Samuel ha-Kohen Duweik, Joseph Zamir

This ketubbah has a fragment of a second document attached to the top with thread. The ketubbah itself is written on paper; the addition is on parchment and is painted with flowers similar to those on NMAH 315394A.4.

Ketubbah

NMAH 315394A.38

Damascus, Syria, 1827–1828

Ink and gouache on parchment

H 30 cm, W 31.5 cm

(?) 5528 (1827–1828)

Groom: (?) Meir

Bride: (?) daughter of Isaac ayyim Hariri

Witnesses: Jacob Antibi, (?) Duweik

This ketubbah has suffered extensive losses and only a part of the text remains. The text is written within a semicircular arch set within a rectangle. In addition to the customary blessings, quotations from Ruth 4:11 and Genesis 27:28 are inscribed in the margins of the arch surrounding the text. The decoration was probably similar to that of NMAH 315394A.4.

Mid-Nineteenth Century

The composition of the Damascus ketubbot from the mid-nineteenth century is derived from earlier examples. The text is set within a gateway separated from the illustration or ornamentation.

The decoration of the four Damascus ketubbot from this period that are in the Smithsonian is similar to contemporaneous examples from Jerusalem in their use of expansive floral elements.[1] The text in the Jerusalem ketubbot of this period also is placed within a gateway, but the architectural reference is more specific and includes columns and generally a multifoil arch.[2]

Ketubbah

NMAH 334024; acc. no. 207792 (orig. acc. no. 95111)

Damascus, Syria, 1864

Ink, watercolor, and metallic paint on paper

H 66 cm, W 45 cm

Negative number 92–13068

Friday the 15th of Elul 5624 (16 September 1864)

Groom: Abraham son of Bezalel abbouba

Bride: Tamar (Ruhamah) daughter of Nathan abbouba

Witnesses: undeciphered

With a framework in gold leaf along the sides and a scalloped upper border, like a multidome roofline, the entire ketubbah simulates a monumental gateway. The text is set within an arch decorated with gold spandrels. The sense of an overall floral field is created by a serpentine flowering vine that extends nearly to the top of the sheet. In the center is an urn bursting with roses and leafy foliage. The handles of the urn are elongated, and a branch is placed in each one. Flanking the urn and in the uppermost comers are flowers highlighted in gold, further enhancing the liveliness of the ketubbah.

Ketubbah

NMAH 315394A.40

Damascus, Syria, 1853

Ink and watercolor on paper

H 55 cm, W 42 cm

Tuesday the 15th of Sivan 5613 (21 June 1853)

Groom: Yaudah (Judah)

Bride: Leah

Witnesses: undeciphered Dowry: 6,000 grush

This ketubbah is rectangular with scalloped edges on the upper border. The text is set within a pointed arch. Garlands fill the spandrels of the arch. Flanking the gateway on either side is a floral spray. The upper section is decorated with an elaborate urn with exaggerated C-scroll appendages. The urn is filled with a floral cluster and is flanked by two large roses.

NMAH 334024

NMAH 315394A.39

Ketubbah

NMAH 315394A.39

Damascus, Syria, 1849

Ink and watercolor on paper

H 63.5 cm, W 44 cm

Negative number 92–13067

Tuesday the sixth of Tishri 5609 (3 October 1848)

Groom: Joseph son of (?) ha-Levi

Bride: Bolisa daughter of (?) ha-Kohen

Witnesses: undeciphered

This ketubbah is written on a rectangular sheet with scalloped edges along the sides of the upper section and cut spirals along the top edge. The text is set within a rounded archway. The traditional blessings are in an elongated oval above the text, A lily with leafy stems is painted in each of the side margins. Above the gateway is a branch of flowers on which is superimposed two large roses. Large circles appear in the empty spaces along the edges of the contract.

NMAH 334023

Ketubbah

NMAH 334023; acc. no. 207992 (orig. acc. no. 95111)

Damascus, Syria, 1860

Ink, watercolor, and metallic paint on paper

H 62 cm, W 44 cm

Negative number 92–13065

Tuesday (?) eshvan 5620 (1860)

Groom: Joseph son of Simon Zerahiyah Bride: Sima daughter of Nathaniel ha-Levi

Witnesses: undeciphered

Dowry: 31,500 (?) grush

The edges of the ketubbah are damaged, but it appears that the upper border included cut spirals similar to those on NMAH 315394A.39. The text is set within a semicircular archway. Crescent moons and stars with six points fill the spandrel. Along the sides are flowering vines that rise out of urns. Above the text is an urn with two large roses, leafy stems with rosebuds, and two carnations with long stems that rise up toward the top of the ketubbah.

Undated

Ketubbah

NMAH 3153 94A.41

Damascus, Syria

Ink and gouache on parchment

H 15 cm, W 26.2 cm

Dowry: 1,500 grush

The date, the names of the bride and groom, and the names of the witnesses are illegible or missing. The ketubbah has traces of painted decoration.

Ketubbah

NMAH 315394A.42

Damascus, Syria

Ink on parchment

H 10.5 cm, W 29.0 cm

The date, the names of the bride and groom, and the names of the witnesses are illegible or missing. The dowry is undecipherable.

Ketubbah

NMAH 315394A.43

Damascus, Syria

Ink and paper applique (lost) on parchment

H 21 cm, W29 cm

Witness: Aaron ha-Kohen Tarab

Dowry: 1,200 grush

The date and the names of the bride and groom cannot be deciphered.

Ketubbah

NMAH 315394A.44

Damascus, Syria

Ink and gouache on parchment

H 34 cm, W 23 cm

14th of eshvan 54(??)

Groom: Jacob son of Aaron (?)

Bride: (?) daughter of ayyim Mizrai (?)

Witnesses: Mordecai Shafiah, Nissim (?) ha-Kohen

This parchment is severely damaged, making it very difficult to decipher the date. Because the decoration is painted and similar to that of other eighteenth-century examples (see NMAH 315394A.4), it is likely that this parchment dates to the second quarter of the eighteenth century as well.

Ketubbah

NMAH 315394A.45

Damascus, Syria

Ink and paper applique (lost) on parchment

H 30 cm, W 32.5 cm

19th of Adar II 55(11)

Groom: Moses son of Jacob Shababo

Bride: Qamar daughter of Aaron Mizrahi

Witness: Aaron ha-Kohen Tarab

Dowry: 900 grush

This is of the same type as NMAH 315394A.2. Only a trace of the brocade paper remains.

Ketubbah

NMAH 315394A.46

Damascus, Syria

Ink on paper

H 40.5 cm, W 32 cm 557(?)

Groom: name is missing

Bride: Zipporah daughter of Nissim Aroukh

Witnesses: Gabriel Sitehon signed for Nathaniel Saba

Dowry: incomplete

Gabriel Sitehon also signed as a witness on NMAH 315394A.24, dated 1801. This ketubbah is undecorated.

DEINARD COLLECTION, ADDITIONAL ITALIAN Ketubbot

There are six other Italian marriage contracts in the Deinard Collection.

Ketubbah

NMAH 315394A.47

Ancona, Italy, 1826

Ink and watercolor on parchment

H 44.5 cm, W 42.7 cm

Wednesday the second of Sivan 5586 (7 June 1826)

Groom: Yakim Shabbtai son of Zebulon Samuel ibn Yakim

Bride: Mazal Tov daughter of ananiah Moses Shabbtai ibn Joshua

Witnesses: Samuel ayyim Almagia, Mazal Tov Treve

There is a clarification given to indicate that the groom’s real name was Elyakim. In the center of the upper edge is a cartouche containing the traditional wedding blessings. The illumination, consisting of a naturalistic border with a flowering vine, is characteristic of one type of Ancona ketubbah.[1]

Ketubbah

NMAH 315394A.48
Ancona, Italy, 1821

Ink and watercolor on parchment
H 60.6 cm, W 38.4 cm

Wednesday the second of Tevet 5582 (26 December 1821)

Groom: Mordecai Nissim son of Isaac Menaem Cingoli

Bride: Regina daughter of Shabbtai ayyim Treve

Witnesses: Abraham ben Jacob Israel Musati, Abraham Israel ben Azariah

The parchment of this ketubbah is rectangular with a cusped upper edge. The tenaim, terms of engagement, are written in cursive below the text. The complete text is set within a red arculated frame. A foliate scroll of blue, yellow, and redacanthus leaves interspersed with simple and composite flowers fills the margins surrounding the text. A wreath in the middle of the lower margin of the scroll depicts the head of a woman who is wearing a laurel diadem. In the upper portion is a floral cluster, above which is a cartouche with the standard wedding blessing, “With a good sign and with exalted luck.” Along the edges of the parchment is a strapwork border.

Ketubbah

NMAH 315394A.49
Ferrara, Italy, 1842–1843

Ink on parchment
H 28.4 cm, W 26 cm
5603 (1842–1843)

Groom: Moses Eliezer son of Judah ai Cavalieri

Bride: Bona daughter of Elhanan Mazal Tov Cavalieri

This is a reissue of a marriage contract. It is perhaps only a draft, as there are no witnesses indicated and only the year is filled in, not the month or day.

Ketubbah

NMAH 334029; acc. no. 207792 (orig. acc. no. 95111)

Ferrara, Italy, 1763

Ink on parchment, silk thread
H 36 cm, W 35.7 cm

Friday the seventh of eshvan 5524 (14 October 1763)

Groom: Pelatiyah son of Joseph Zamorani

Bride: Dolcia daughter of Joab Barukh Finzi

Witnesses: Mordecai Joseph Carpanetti, Samuel Yedidiah son of Eliezer Norzi

This ketubbah was originally decorated with an appliqué affixed with yellow silk thread; the appliqué is missing.

Ketubbah d’Irchese

NMAH 334030

Modena, Italy, 1768

Ink on parchment

H 26.6 cm, W 18.4 cm

17th of eshvan 5529 (28 October 1768)

Groom: Abraham son of Judah Gallico

Bride: Sima daughter of Israel Berekhiah Fontanella

Witnesses: Israel son of Mordecai Rovigo, Gur Aryeh Manasseh da (?) Padua

This is a reissue of a marriage contract. The text is inscribed in ink within a border formed by parallel lines. The parchment has been cut down.

Ketubbah

NMAH 334031
Venice, Italy, 1841
Ink on parchment
H 30 cm, W 23.2 cm

Friday the third of Elul 5601 (20 August 1841)

Groom: Phineas David Aaron son of Benjamin Mordecai Cohen

Bride: Hannah daughter of Benjamin Leozzi

Witnesses: Moses son of Abraham Padovani (?), Joseph son of Isaac Caravalho (?)

The groom signed his name in Italian as “Felice David Aron Coen.” A civil contract, issued three days earlier according to the laws of the Austro-Hungarian empire under Ferdinand I, is mentioned. The parchment appears to have been cut down. The only ornamentation is the standard phrase of good wishes, “be-simana tava,” which is inscribed above the text in large, square script in green ink.

Synagogue wall calendar

NMAH 315394A.66
Calcutta, India, 1893–1894
Ink and gouache on paper
H 74 cm, W 55.7 cm
Negative number 92–13062

This synagogue wall calendar for the year 5654 (1893—1894) includes, in addition to notations for Jewish observance, a schedule for Torah readings and calendar determinations and a chronology of major events in Jewish history.

The upper margins of the calendar contain two medallions filled with six-pointed stars in both comers and a large panel containing the year written in Hebrew letters. The lower portion contains six columns with the names of the months and their Moslem and Hindu equivalents, and synagogue observances. Each column is identified with a title and a five-stemmed plant (pomegranate) set within a semicircle.

NMAH 315394A.66

The Western calendar dates are integrated into the main tabulation with the inclusion of comparative lists of the Hijiri (Moslem) month names and the Bengali San (Hindu) month names, which appear in the vertical columns on the left of the lower portion.[1]

Despite the fact that there is no explicit indication of the calendar’s origin, its attribution to a synagogue in Calcutta is made virtually certain by the notation of the Hindu year 1300 and the occurrence of the New Year in Nisan (April 1894). Only the Bengali San era accords with this, and the only synagogues in Bengal were in Calcutta.

NMAH 315394A.117

Prayer for the success of the armies of Hapsburg Emperor Joseph II in the Turkish campaign of 1788

NMAH 315394A. 117
Israel Gedaliah Cases
Mantua, Italy, 1788
Printed paper
H 36.7 cm, W 27 cm
Negative number 92–13046

An interesting feature of liturgy among Jews living in the diaspora is the development of prayers and poems of homage written on behalf of the local government and its leaders. These can basically be divided into two categories: prayers recited within the context of the service itself, and prayers developed to pay homage for a special occasion. As a reflection of the Jewish experience “among the nations,” these prayers provide a fascinating aspect of the social history of the Jewish people.

In Mantua it was quite common for prayers to be written on behalf of rulers and to mark special occasions. Mantua came under Austrian rule in 1708. Joseph II ruled from 1764 to 1790. His liberalizing reforms were not universally well received by the Jewish community. The granting of even limited civil rights meant the end of many discriminatory laws, but it also meant that the Jews had to give up many rights, especially in terms of communal independence.[1] Despite any reservations they might have had about Joseph II, however, this prayer is profusely laudatory.

Dr. Israel Gedaliah ben Moses Cases was a physician, rabbi, and community scribe in Mantua. He was appointed rabbi of his community in 1754 and held various administrative offices in the community as well. In addition to Hebrew and Italian poems and responsa, he authored a medical book entitled Giornale medico storico.

The prayer is a complicated composition, using quotes from more than 55 biblical verses. The text indicates that the prayer was to be recited from Rosh Hodesh Adar II onward. A note in Italian on the broadside indicates that the prayer was recited beginning on 9 March 1788.[2]

Among the Deinard documents are two other prayers written on behalf of rulers. A “Salmo Augurale” (NMNH T839) was written in honor of the duke of Tuscany, Leopold II, and his wife, who was a sister of the king of Naples. The Jews attained equality under the constitution granted by Leopold II in 1848. The prayer was composed by Graziadio Anania Coen (1751–1834) of Reggio, and it was published in Florence in 1833. Coen was a prolific author whose works included poetry, linguistic, and biblical studies and textbooks.[3]

There is also an undated manuscript prayer (NMAH 315394A.104) by an unknown author for the success of the pregnancy and childbirth of Duchess Maria Beatrice, wife of Duke Francesco IV d’Este.

NMNH 315395, neg no. 92–13116

NMNH 315395, neg. no. 92–13118

Esther scroll

NMNH 315395; acc. no. 207992 (orig. acc. no. 65324)

Late nineteenth or early twentieth century
Ink and tempera on parchment

H 26.7 cm, W 264.9 cm
Loan, 1920, Deinard Collection
Negative numbers 92–13116, 92–13118

This scroll contains nineteen columns of text and corresponding vignettes from the Esther story. Each column begins with the Hebrew word for “the King.” The Hebrew is written in square Italian script. The illumination is designed as a continuous arcade.

The beginning of the scroll contains a panel with an overall design of floral scrolls, inhabited by a leopard, an eagle a lion, and a deer. This is a reference, unusual for an Esther scroll, to the verse “Be bold as a leopard, light as an eagle, swift as a deer, and strong as a lion to do the will of your Father in heaven” (Ethics of the Fathers 5:23). In addition, in the center of the panel are lions flanking a blank cartouche.[1]

This Esther scroll is a primitively painted copy of an Esther scroll with engraved borders by Francesco Griselini of Italy, from the mid-eighteenth century.[2] Griselini, who was not a Jew, also produced engraved titles for a Hebrew Bible for Isaac Foa printed in Venice by Bragadini between 1739 and 1741 (possibly 1743). The provenance of this scroll is unknown.[3]

Bibliography:

Michael Fooner, “The Deinard Esterrolle in the United Slates National Museum,” Opinion (March 1936). A copy of the typescript for the article is in the National Anthropological Archives, Box 75–800.

Micrographic illustration

NMNH 333969; acc. no. 207992 (orig. acc. no. 94763)

M.E. Goldstein

Frankfurt am Main, Germany, ca, 1900
Ink on lithograph
H 49.5 cm, W 58.4 cm
Loan, January 1927, Deinard Collection

In the nineteenth century it became common for various institutions to use micrograms for fund-raising purposes, as gifts in return for donations, with the name of the donor simply inserted with a proper dedication.[1] Several examples in the Smithsonian’s collection, which are the work of Moses Elijah Goldstein, were used in this way. Unfortunately, it is not known which institution they benefited. Goldstein worked in Frankfurt, and possibly Tiberias as well, around the turn of the century.

The Temple Mount in Jerusalem and its environs are depicted in this example. Each of the sites—the Mount of Olives, Tombs of the Prophets, and so on—is labeled with Hebrew inscriptions and identified in a legend in the margin. The contour lines of the illustration are formed with texts from Psalms, Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Ezekiel.

At the bottom are keys to the passages and a warning, written in French, German, and Hebrew, prohibiting reproduction. In the lower margin, the dedicatory inscription (in green ink) has been erased, seemingly intentionally. Under ultraviolet light, the name M.E. Goldst[ein] appears.

NMAH 334035

Micrographic illustration

NMAH 334035; acc. no. 207992 (orig. acc. no. 95111)

M.E. Goldstein
Frankfurt am Main, 1900
Ink on lithograph
H 84 cm, W 84 cm

Loan, February 1927, Deinard Collection
Negative number 92–13044

Goldstein incorporated all 150 psalms into this illustration of scenes from the life of Joseph. Stylistically, the figures are typical of the stiff, neoclassical illustrations from printed Bibles of the period, the iconography of which can sometimes be traced to “old master” paintings.

In a cartouche at the lower right, Goldstein wrote in Hebrew that the work was completed on “Tuesday, the fifth of Adar II 5660 [5 March 1900], at Frankfurt am Main, Moses Elijah Goldstein.” There is a dedicatory inscription in the upper center: “In honor of Gabriel Guggenheim.”[1]

NMAH 334036.1-3

Micrographic illustrations

NMAH 334036.1-3; acc. no. 207992 (orig. acc. no. 95111)

M.E. Goldstein
Frankfurt am Main, 1899
Ink on lithograph
H 41 cm, W 50 cm

Loan, February 1927, Deinard Collection
Negative number 92–13043

In the Smithsonian’s collection there are three copies of an etching illustrating the meeting of King Solomon and the Queen of Sheba. The story is described in 1 Kings 10. The micrography includes the text of 1 Kings through 2 Kings 19:1.

A legend in Hebrew in the lower left provides the key to the illustration, the date, and the artist. The work was completed on Lag B’Omer 5659 (28 April 1899).

On NMAH 334036.1, the watermark is I. W. Zanders and the dedicatory inscription in the upper center reads “B. Rosewald.” On NMAH 334036.2, the dedicatory inscription reads “Mrs. Lena Jashewitz.” On NMAH 334036.3, the dedicatory inscription has been erased.

NMAH 333979.1

Memorial candle plaques

NMAH 333979.1-10, acc. no. 207992 (orig. acc. no. 94763); NMAH 334032.1-49, acc. no. 207992 (orig. acc. no. 95111)

Italy, 1675 (?) through 1890
Ink on vellum

Sizes vary but are approximately H 18 cm, W 14cm

Loan, January 1927 (NMAH 333979.1-10) and February 1927 (NMAH 334032.1-49), Deinard Collection

Negative numbers 92–13083 (NMAH 333979.1), 92–13085 (NMAH 333979.10), 92–13088 (NMAH 334032.8), 9213089 (NMAH 334032.14–19), 92–13090 (NMAH 334032.20)

The commemoration of the death of a loved one by lighting a candle in the synagogue, a ritual identified with these memorial plaques, may have been a localized custom, as very few plaques have survived.[1] Each is slightly different. Some are similar to ketubbot, with a shaped upper border; some have the form of a cartouche; others are like tombstones, bells, hearts, or leaves. The typical inscription reads “A candle is lit for the repose of the soul of the honorable [name], of blessed memory, who departed this world on [date]. May it please You, blessed God, that [his/her] soul be bound in the bond of eternity and there be good life and peace of us and all Israel. May this by Thy will.”

NMAH 333979.10

The Smithsonian’s collection of 59 memorial candle plaques is the largest group of its type known.[2] Eight others were acquired by the Library of Congress in 1912 as part of Jacob Schiff s gift of nearly 10,000 books and manuscripts purchased from Ephraim Deinard.

Mantua is identified as the place of origin from an inscription on one of the examples in the Library of Congress, in memory of Moses Simon Solomon Isaac Levy (died 1840): “To light a candle before the Lord in the Cases Synagogue.”[3] The Scudo Cases Synagogue was founded in Mantua in 1590 and existed until the twentieth century, having had a long and prominent history in that city.[4]

The names and the years of death recorded on the plaques are as follows. In addition, reference is also sometimes made to a particular biblical verse, which in some instances relates to the person’s name. The listing is in chronological order within the two catalog groupings.

NMAH 334032.8

Catalog numbers NMAH 333979.1-10

NMAH 333979.1: Mrs. Sarah Minzi, daughter of Mrs. Sima, 1809

NMAH 333979.2: Rabbi Judah Nathaniel Cases, 1830; Deuteronomy 33:12

NMAH 333979.3: Mrs. Berakhah Rava, 1838; Exodus 2:25

NMAH 333979.4: Raphael Menaem Nissim ai (Vita) ha-Levi, 1839; Numbers 10:29

NMAH 333979.5: Nadiv Massarani, 1842; Exodus 8:24

NMAH 333979.6: Mrs. Mazal Tov, widow of Nathaniel Trabotto, 1844; Exodus 27:20

NMAH 333979.7: Mrs. Rachel Esther, widow of Raphael Menaem Nissim ai ha-Levi, 1844; Genesis 23:1, Genesis 24:7

NMAH 333979.8: Mrs. Rebecca Levia from the Gentili family, 1845; Leviticus 1:1

NMAH 333979.9: Isaac Cases, 1846; Exodus 6:5

NMAH 333979.10: Jacob ha-Levi, 1852; Deuteronomy 28:8

Catalog numbers NMAH 334032.1-49

NMAH 334032.1: Meshullam ayyim Canetti, son of Elisheva Hannah, 1675 (?)

NMAH 334032.2: Menaem Modena, 1734

NMAH 334032.3: Isaac Massarani, 1738

NMAH 334032.4: Abraham Finzi, 1771; Genesis 15:1

NMAH 334032.5: Mrs. Rachel Avil (?), [whose name was changed to] Eve Malkah Finzi, 1774[5]

NMAH 334032.6: Mordecai Ben Zion Ancona, 1786;

Deuteronomy 14:25

NMAH 334032.7: Jonah Moses Modena, 1789; Exodus 29:43

NMAH 334032.8: David ai (Vita), 1797; Genesis 32:2

NMAH 334032.9: Samuel Zacut Maroni, 1800; Deuteronomy 14:25

NMAH 334032.10: Mrs. Mikhalah, wife of Moses ha-Kohen, 1800; Deuteronomy 30:5

NMAH 334032.11: Mrs. Giusta, widow of Jonah Raphael ayyim Finzi, 1805

NMAH 334032.12: Mordecai Isaac Romanelli, 1805; Leviticus 19:14

NMAH 334032.13: Mrs. Sarah Esther, daughter of Aaron Nissim Cases, 1812

NMAH 334032.14: Shemaiah Raphael Fano, 1815; Exodus 17:12

NMAH 334032.15: Moses David Finzi, 1819

NMAH 334032.16: Mrs. Reika Sarah, [whose name was changed to] Mazal Tov, wife of Raphael ayyim Trabotto, 1821; Genesis 45:7

NMAH 334032.17: Solomon Raphael ai (Vita), 1822; Exodus 9:29

NMAH 334032.18: Mrs. Beila Mazal Tov, wife of Aaron Moses David Finzi, 1823

NMAH 334032.19: Abraham ai Malakh, 1825; Exodus 40:35

NMAH 334032.20: Jacob Shalom Finzi, 1826; Exodus 18:23

NMAH 334032.21: Mrs. Rosa, widow of Solomon ayyim d’ltalia, 1826

NMAH 334032.22: Esther, widow of Abram ai Malakh, 1828

NMAH 334032.23: Mrs. Gentile, widow of Aaron Mazliah Luria, 1836; Exodus 14:13

NMAH 334032.24: Mrs. Nehama Fior, widow of Samuel Zoref (Orefice), 1838; Leviticus 24:2

NMAH 334032.25: Rabbi Dr. Israel Gedaliah Cases, 1841; Genesis 46:1

NMAH 334032.26: Solomon Joseph Massarani, 1841; died in Brescia, buried in Mantua; Exodus 13:19

NMAH 334032.27: Mrs. Hannah, wife of Aviad Gustalla, 1841

NMAH 334032.28: Aviad Gustalla, 1843; Leviticus 9:23

NMAH 334032.29: Mrs. Berakhah Esther, widow of Nissim Finzi, 1843; Leviticus 19:14

NMAH 334032.30: Moses Polacco, 1845; Genesis 23:2

NMAH 334032.31: Moses Aaron Samuel Joseph Cases, 1849; Deuteronomy 1:8

NMAH 334032.32: Mordecai Shalom Viterbi, 1856

NMAH 334032.33: Nathaniel Mordecai, son of Joseph Trabotto, 1856

NMAH 334032.34: Mrs. Lucinda Rovino, wife of Azriel Viterbi, 1859

NMAH 334032.35: Samuel Aaron ai (Vita), 1859

NMAH 334032.36: Moses d’ltalia, 1861

NMAH 334032.37: Menaem Massarani, 1863

NMAH 334032.38: Solomon ayyim Maroni, 1864

NMAH 334032.39: Mrs. Amalia Fano, wife of Mordecai ha-Levi Mortara, 1867

NMAH 334032.40: Pinhas Cases, 1872

NMAH 334032.41: Mrs. Perla, wife of David ananiah Viterbi, of blessed memory, 1888

NMAH 334032.42: Judah Raphael, who is called Joseph Massarani, 1889

NMAH 334032.43: Mrs. Notila, wife of Joshua ayyim Maroni, of blessed memory, 1890; Exodus 2:2

NMAH 334032.44: Moses ayyim ai (Vita); Deuteronomy 32:4

NMAH 334032.45: Mrs. Sima Viterbi, widow of Aaron Judah

NMAH 334032.46: Samson, son of Carpi (?) (date illegible)

NMAH 334032.47: Mrs. Gimilah Berakhah, widow of Samuel Zacut Maroni, 1874 (?)

NMAH 334032.48: Illegible

NMAH 334032.49: Solomon ayyim d’ltalia (date illegible)

NMAH 334032.14–19

NMAH 334032.20

Bibliography:

Smithsonian Institution, Celebration, no. 177.

MANTUA DOCUMENTS

In addition to the memorial candle plaques, there are four marriage documents in the collection.

Fragment of ketubbah

NMAH 315394A.59

Mantua, Italy, early eighteenth century

Ink and gouache on parchment

H 27 cm, W 26 cm

Groom: Eliezer (?)

Bride: Miriam (?)

Witnesses: Rabbi Judah, son of Eliezer Briel; Rabbi Joseph Barukh, son of Moses Cases

What is preserved is the lower left corner of this ketubbah. It is decorated with a flowering vine scroll outlined in ink and painted in green gouache. The flowers are outlined and painted as well. Oval medallions containing verses from Numbers 24:18 appear at intervals in the vine scroll.

The two witnesses for this marriage are highly important figures in Mantuan history. Rabbi Judah Leon ben Eliezer Briel was born about 1643 and died in 1722. He is known in rabbinic literature as MaHaRIL. He was known both as a Talmudist and as one who was well versed in the secular sciences.[1] Rabbi Joseph Barukh Cases was a Talmudist and physician. He was rabbi of Mantua from 1704 to 1721. Although known for strict adherence to Talmudic law, he permitted deviations in certain cases when the welfare of individuals was endangered.[2]

Draft of marriage contract

NMAH 315394A.60

Mantua, Italy, 1836

Ink on paper

H 26.6 cm, W 18.4 cm

Second of Nisan 5596 (20 March 1836)

Groom: Joseph ayyim son of Jacob Hayyim Finzi

Bride: Zipporah Sarah Sforni

Draft of marriage contract

NMAH 315394A.61

Mantua, Italy, 1844

Ink on paper

H 26.4 cm, W 18.5 cm

Fourth of Tammuz 5604 (21 June 1844)

Groom: Elijah son of Isaac Judah Rineri (?)

Bride: Mazal-Tov daughter of Ari, called Mevasser-Tov, Malakh

Betrothal contract

NMAH 315394A.62

Reggio Emilia, Italy, 1663

H 30.3 cm, W 21.3 cm

Ink on paper

Wednesday the fifth of Av 5423 (8 August 1663)

Groom: Menaem son of Samson ben Mordecai Canton of Pomponesco (Mantua)

Bride: Faustina daughter of Moses ben Azriel Alatini of G—(?)

Witnesses: Joseph Samuel Camerini, Joseph ben Zion ayyim Levi

NMAH 376531, neg. no. 92–13034

NMAH 376531, neg. no. 80–51711B

Candleholder and spice box

NMAH 376531; acc. no. 136485

Nuremberg, Germany, circa 1800

Silver; hallmarks: R 3 3781, R 3 3762, illegible

H 20.9 cm

Gift of Mrs. Virginia M. Hillyer, 1935

Negative numbers 92–13034, 80–51711B

This practical form, combining the candleholder and spice container used during the havdalah ceremony marking the end of the Sabbath, became widely used in Germany, especially in Nuremberg, in the eighteenth century.[1] The special braided havdalah candle is extinguished after use, and an advantage of this device is the mechanism for raising the candle as it is used up over time. The spices are kept in the small drawer with four compartments.

NMAH 376672

Hanukkah lamp

NMAH 376672; acc. no. 136485

Italy, early seventeenth century
Bronze

H 21.5 cm, W 14.6 cm, D 7.3 cm

Gift of Mrs. Virginia W. Hillyer, 1935

Negative number 92–13019

A phenomenal variety of bronze Hanukkah lamps were created in Italy in the seventeenth century, and a number of different types were replicated again and again over the next two centuries. Several of the lamps reflect architectural models; others incorporate images, such as cornucopias, scrolled vines, putti, and mythological figures, that were typically used on Renaissance bronzes of secular use.[1] The heroic figure of Judith beheading the enemy general Holofernes is the central element in yet another lamp type.[2]

The motifs on this Hanukkah lamp include images typically used on secular Renaissance bronzes as well as a crown and family coat of arms that have a Jewish association. The image of a rampant lion with bifurcated tongue facing left has been identified as the coat of arms of the Malta family of Venice.[3]

Bibliography:

Mann, Gardens and Ghettos, no. 183.

NMAH 376929

Hanukkah lamp

NMAH 376929; acc. no. 136485

Poland, nineteenth century
Brass

H 26.5 cm, W 22.5 cm, D 7 cm

Gift of Mrs. Virginia M. Hillyer, 1935

Negative number 92–13021

The brass bench-type Hanukkah lamps from Poland reflect the rich heritage of eastern European folk art, a tradition that weaves together a tapestry of Jewish symbols, architectural forms, animals (real and imaginary), trees, and flowers as well as a variety of motifs influenced by local tradition. Similar iconography is found in synagogue decoration and on tombstones. Elaborate paper-cuts in the same style became highly popular as well.

These lamps can be used either hanging or standing. A unique feature of the lamps is the use of the sidewalls to support two candleholders. One is for the shammash, used to kindle the Hanukkah lights. Because the light of the Hanukkah lamp is ceremonial and is therefore not be used for any other purpose, the shammash originally was a utility light. The inclusion of two lights has been described as a pragmatic invention so that the Hanukkah lamp could also be used on Shabbat.[1] However, it is also possible that the second light was simply added for the sake of symmetry.[2]

This bench-type Hanukkah lamp rests on four feet. The openwork backwall is in the form of a gable with a volute crest. In the center is a seven-branched menorah. Flanking each side of the menorah is a rampant lion, scrollwork on which a bird is perched, and a spiral column. A double-headed eagle alights on the menorah.

NMAH 376930

Hanukkah lamp

NMAH 376930; acc. no. 136485

Holland, nineteenth century
Brass

H 31 cm, W 24.5 cm, D 9.3 cm

Gift of Mrs. Virginia M. Hillyer, 1935

Negative number 92–13022

This hanging backwalled Hanukkah lamp is a Dutch type. It is set within an unadorned sconce. The backwall is an openwork panel with a simple balustrade supporting two symmetrical fleurs-de-lis. In the center is a plaque containing the word Hanukkah in Hebrew. Above the plaque is a double volute surmounted by a six-pointed star. The sidewalls are designed as fleurs-de-lis as well.

Hanukkah lamp

NMAH 377034; acc. no. 136485

Holland or Germany, nineteenth century
Brass

H 27 cm, W 23 cm, D 10 cm

Gift of Mrs. Virginia M. Hillyer, 1935

This Hanukkah lamp, with a vibrant decorative composition of hearts, roundels enclosed in wreaths, floral motifs, and scrollwork, is reworked from a wall sconce of the eighteenth century. Later additions include a shallow drip pan attached to the backwall, and there is a separate oil tray with eight apertures for the Hanukkah lights. The transformation of everyday objects into ritual artifacts is a common practice in Jewish art.[1]

Bibliography:

Smithsonian Institution, Celebration, no. 220C.

Set of Kittel Ornaments

NMAH 391201–391205; acc. no. 192962

Austria-Hungary, early nineteenth century

Gift of Mrs. Helen Kahan Schneider, 1951

Kittel is Yiddish for “gown.” Among some Ashkenazi Jews it is the custom to wear a white kittel during services on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur and at the Passover seder. A kittel is also sometimes worn by bridegrooms, and they are occasionally used as burial shrouds.

According to the donor, Helen Kahan Schneider, her father, Benjamin Kahan, was given several items worn with the kittel as a legacy from his grandfather, who lived in the Carpathian Mountains. (Interestingly, the custom was for these items to be passed on to the youngest son.) These consist of a yarmulke (skullcap), belt, cuff, and two atarot (collars for the kittel and prayer shawl).

Benjamin Kahan was born in Felso-Viso Maramaros, Sziget, in the Austro-Hungarian Empire, about 1861 and immigrated to the United States in 1902. It is not known if Mr. Kahan ever wore the kittel once he came to America.

The yarmulke, cuff, and atarot are made of spanier arbeit (Yiddish for “Spanish work”), a weaving technique that uses silver and gold thread.[1] Several distinctive patterns of spanier arbeit developed over time.

Yarmulke

NMAH 391201

Cotton, silk thread, metal thread, leather

H 13.5 cm, D 20.5 cm

The cap is made up of a series of oval medallions. Below the oval medallions are heart-shaped forms known as herzele. The cap is edged with running spirals.

Belt

NMAH 391202

Cotton, silk thread, metal thread; metal buckle

W 4 cm, L 91.5 cm

The belt is embroidered with flowers.

Cuff

NMAH 391203

Cotton, silk thread, metal thread; silk lining

H 29.3 cm, W 11.5 cm

The cuff has a meandering scroll pattern. No buttons or fasteners have been preserved. Although identified as a cuff by the donor, this is very similar to brusttukhe, worn by women as a decorative modesty panel fastened around the neck and tucked into the skirt.

Atarah

NMAH 391204

Cotton, silk thread, metal thread

H 78.9 cm, W 76 cm

This is a collar affixed to the tallit (prayer shawl). This atarah is constructed from six strips of metallic-thread embroidery sewn together. Each strip consists of a series of tightly set fish-scale patterns known as liske.

Atarah for tallit

NMAH 391205
Silver

H 76.2 cm, W 85 cm

Another custom was to make atarot from stamped silver disks, which were linked together with small rings. Each disk is decorated with a hammered pattern of lines and dots. Sometimes these disks arc in the form of small crowns or are ornamented with six-pointed stars.[2]

NMNH 402932A-J

Seder plate

NMNH 402932A-J; acc. no. 256783

Moshe Zabari
New York, 1964

Silver; hallmarks: M Zabari, Tobe Pascher Workshop, sterling

H 17.2 cm, W 38.1 cm

Gift of Dr. and Mrs. Abram Kanof, 1964

Negative number 92–13032

Moshe Zabari (born 1935) arrived in New York from Israel in 1961, having recently graduated from the Bezalel Academy of Art and Design in Jerusalem.[1] He was invited by his former teacher, Ludwig Wolpert, to join him as artist-in-residence at the Tobe Pascher Workshop at the Jewish museum in New York.

The art world that Zabari encountered was exhilarating and highly stimulating for the young artist. New York was the heart of a world of design that was radically and constantly changing, and during this time a number of new art movements emerged, including Pop Art, Op Art, and Minimalism. Moreover, in what was to be a short-lived change in exhibition policy, the Jewish Museum was the site of a series of avant-garde shows, which made it possible for Zabari to get to know the artists and their works firsthand.

Among those whose works were shown at the Jewish Museum was the Swiss artist Jean Tinguely, a master of kinetic sculpture. Zabari’s involvement with Tinguely influenced the design of this seder plate, with its dynamic use of circles in silver and Lucite, which evokes a sense of infinite, energetic movement. Zabari incorporated the functional aspect of the seder plate with six simple silver dishes for the symbolic foods and inscribed with stylized Hebrew letters the three central aspects of the Passover seder: pesa (roasted shank bone), matzah (unleavened bread), and maror (bitter herb).

Sabbath set

NMNH 402933A-F; acc. no. 256783

Moshe Zabari
New York, 1963

Silver, walnut wood; hallmarks: M Zabari, Tobe Pascher Workshop, sterling

Candlesticks: H 17.8 cm
Kiddush cup: H 8.5 cm
allah tray: H 2.6 cm, W 38.7 cm, D 18.4 cm

Knife: L 31.7 cm

Salt dish: H 3.5 cm, W 8.3 cm

Gift of Dr. and Mrs. Abram Kanof, 1964

An early example of Moshe Zabari’s work at the Tobe Pascher Workshop, this Sabbath set synthesizes purity of design with traditional ceremonial function. The Hebrew inscriptions are an integral aspect of the design.

The verse on the candlesticks is spoken as part of the kiddush (the blessing over wine), which is recited on Friday evening: “And in love and favor has given us Thy Holy Sabbath.” The phrase on the kiddush cup is also from the blessing over wine: “Who creates the fruit of the vine.” It is customary to sprinkle salt on the special allah after reciting the blessing for bread. The origin of this custom is reflected in the verse on the salt dish: “With all your offerings you must offer salt” (Leviticus 2:13).

Havdalah set

NMNH 402934A-D; acc. no. 256783

Ludwig Wolpert
New York, 1964

Silver; hallmarks: Wolpert, Tobe Pascher Workshop, 925

Plate: D 21.1 cm

Kiddush cup: H 14.3 cm

Spice container: H 13.7 cm

Candleholder: H 8 cm

Gift of Dr. and Mrs. Abram Kanof, 1964

Negative number 92–13033

Ludwig Yehuda Wolpert (1900–1982) was born in Heidelberg, Germnay.[1] His family was quite traditional and strongly Zionist. Wolpert trained at the School of Arts and Crafts in Frankfurt am Main under the tutelage of a silversmith who had taught previously at the Bauhaus. With the rise of Nazism, Wolpert emigrated to Palestine and in 1935 became a professor of metalwork at the new Bezalel School in Jerusalem, a position he would hold for 20 years. During that time he helped train a whole generation of Israeli artisans. In 1956 Wolpert came to New York to develop and direct the Tobe Pascher Workshop established at the Jewish Museum by Dr. Abram Kanof and Dr. Frances Pascher Kanof. Wolpert continued to work there until his death.

NMNH 402934A-D

Wolpert was truly a pioneer in creating modem ceremonial objects. Reflecting his Bauhaus-inspired training, Wolpert’s works are exemplars of simplicity and functional purity. The Hebrew alphabet was his most important design motif; often the letters themselves gave form to the object.

Wolpert’s integration of letter and form can be seen in this set for the havdalah ceremony, which marks the end of the Sabbath. Each component bears a Hebrew inscription reflecting the blessings over wine, spices, and light, respectively. On the kiddush cup is “I will lift up the cup of salvation” (Psalms 116:13). On the spice container is “Who creates various spices.” On the candleholder is “Who creates the lights of fire.”

Wolpert wanted very much for his ceremonial objects to be accessible to as many people as possible, and therefore he supervised the replication of selected examples. This havdalah set, first designed in Israel in 1955, was reproduced in two versions, one of which includes an inscription on the plate as well.[2]

Hanukkah lamp

NMNH 402935; acc. no. 256783

Ludwig Wolpert
New York, 1964

Silver-nickel alloy, glass; hallmark: Wolpert

H 15.5 cm, W 15.1 cm

Gift of Dr. and Mrs. Abram Kanof, 1964

In a masterly, innovative fashion, Wolpert used Hebrew letters to create the entire backwall of this Hanukkah lamp. The phrase “To praise Thee is a delight” is from the “Maoz Tzur” (“Rock of Ages”) hymn, which is traditionally sung after kindling the Hanukkah lights.

Etrog container

NMNH 402936; acc. no. 256783

Ludwig Wolpert
New York, 1964
Silver

H 8.4 cm, W 16.3 cm

Gift of Dr. and Mrs. Abram Kanof, 1964

The elliptical shape of this container echoes the form of the etrog (citron), one of the symbolic species of plants used on the holiday of Sukkot. On the lid is the Hebrew inscription “The fruit of goodly trees” (Leviticus 23:40).

Mezuzah case

NMNH 402937; acc. no. 256783

Ludwig Wolpert
Jerusalem, 1950
Silver
H 6.8 cm

Gift of Dr. and Mrs. Abram Kanof, 1964

The front of the mezuzah case is a screen formed by the Hebrew letters of the verse “Blessed shall you be in your coming and blessed shall you be in your going” (Deuteronomy 28:6).

Mezuzah case

NMNH 402939; acc. no. 256783

Ludwig Wolpert

Jerusalem, 1955

Vermeil, enamel

H 6.4 cm

Gift of Dr. and Mrs. Abram Kanof, 1964

The mezuzah case is formed by the Hebrew letter shin, representing the word Shaddai, “Almighty.”

Mezuzah case

NMNH 402938; acc. no. 256783

Chava Wolpert Richard

New York, 1963

Silver and enamel

H 8.6 cm

Gift of Dr. and Mrs. Abram Kanof, 1964

Chava Wolpert Richard worked at the Tobe Pascher Workshop for many years, sometimes collaborating with her father, Ludwig Wolpert, in the making of ceremonial objects. Her work is particularly noteworthy for her inventiveness in using new materials, especially those that introduce color to the piece, as in this mezuzah case. The Hebrew inscription reads “And God Almighty will bless you.”

Torah mantle

NMAH 299038.1; acc. no. 299038

Rheims, France (?), 1878
Silk, silk thread, metallic thread, coiled metal
H 87 cm, W 44 cm

Gift of Mrs. Karl B. Bretzfelder in memory of Mr. Karl B. Bretzfelder, 1972

Negative number 92–13012

On the High Holy Days it is traditional to use white Torah curtains and mantles. This Torah mantle depicts the climactic moment of the akeda, the binding of Isaac (Genesis 22:1–19), when the angel stays the hand of Abraham. Although it is quite unusual to find such an elaborate illustration of a biblical story on a Torah mantle, it is appropriate, as the story of the akeda is read on the second day of Rosh Hashanah.

The letters at the top of the Torah mantle are the initial letters of the words keter Torah, “the crown of the Torah.” The Hebrew inscription at the bottom reads “Gift of Naphtali, son of Samuel Klein and his wife, Feigele Rachel, daughter of the honored Rabbi Toutros Weill, in the year [1878], May we be sealed in the Book of Life, here in the sacred congregation of Rhens.” The date, which is not explicitly mentioned, is calculated by adding the numerical value of each of the highlighted Hebrew letters. The inscription is also appropriate to the High Holy Days, the time when each individual symbolically stands before divine judgment for his or her actions in the past year.

Rhens, the town mentioned in the inscription, is in Germany, near Koblenz; however, according to the accession record, Karl Bretzfelder, who was serving in the U.S. Army during World War I, found the Torah mantle in the synagogue in Rheims in 1918 after a bombing raid. (Coincidentally, a tallit (prayer shawl) and tefillin (phylacteries) discovered after the raid by John Goldhaar, field secretary of the Jewish Welfare Board, were also acquired by the Smithsonian.)[1] Jews first lived in Rheims in 1077, but after the Middle Ages there was no Jewish community until after 1870, when Jews arrived from Alsace and Lorraine. A synagogue was built in 1870.[2]

It is interesting that a Torah mantle with a nearly identical scene is in the collection of the Jewish Museum in New York (catalog number F3546). This mantle is inscribed “Gift of the sacred congregation of Pfaffenhofen 5636 [1875–1876].”[3] A Torah curtain for the High Holy Days in the collection of the Jewish Museum in London bears some stylistic resemblance to the akeda Torah mantles. The curtain has a similar motif of keter Torah, beneath which is an expansive radiating sun symbol reminiscent of the treatment of the “all-seeing eye of God” on the New York mantle. The provenance of the London curtain is unknown.[4]

Bibliography:

Smithsonian Institution, Celebration, no. 204b.

Torah ark decoration

NMAH 315408; acc. no. 315408

Philadelphia, late nineteenth or early twentieth century

Painted wood and gilt

H 92.7 cm, W 85.5 cm, D (base) 45 cm

Museum purchase, 1975

Negative number 89–21184

There were once numerous examples of these carved and brightly painted Torah arks in synagogues built by eastern European Jewish immigrants in America around the turn of the century. The elaborately designed arks were likely a link to the elaborately carved decorative programs of their former synagogues in Europe.[1] This ornament is a section of a Torah ark from a Philadelphia synagogue located on South 7th Street. When the synagogue closed, the ark was dismantled.

Typically, the Torah ark pediment would have a pair of lions flanking the Ten Commandments. It is possible that such was the case here as well. An addition is the motif of two outstretched hands representing the priestly blessing (Numbers 6:23–27). The crown refers to “the crown of the Torah.”

NMAH 299038.1

NMAH 315408

NMAH 315484.1

Boy’s coat

NMAH 315484.1; acc. no. 315484

Ukraine, early twentieth century

Wool, silk thread

L 56 cm

Gift of H. Irving Kazer, 1975

Negative number 92–13040

According to the accession record, Sarah Bornstein Kasermunn made this coat for her young son before they left the Ukraine to come to the United States. The influence of Ukrainian folk art is evident in the upright collar, the pattern of the appliqué, and the clusters of embroidered flowers.

Also in the museum’s collection is a tallit bag made by Sarah in 1907 and inscribed to her husband, Beryl Kasermunn. The tallit bag was later used by their son, Irving Kazer, until it was donated to the Smithsonian.

The family name, Kasermunn, was changed to Kazer when they came to the United States.

Ketubbah d’Irkhesa

NMAH 1980.0903.01; acc. no. 1980.0903

Cara Goldberg Marks

United States, 1980

Lithograph, metallic paint

H 90.2 cm, W 66.4 cm

Gift of the artist and Michael Neil Marks, 1980

A ketubbah d’Irkhesa is a replacement marriage contract issued when the original ketubbah has been lost or destroyed. This ketubbah, an artist’s proof, is for a wedding held on Sunday the eighth of Tammuz 5740 (22 June 1980) between Dov son of Mordecai and Rachel daughter of Moses. The witnesses were David son of Mordecai Nathan and ayyim Judah son of Zev.

The design is reminiscent of Oriental carpets, and the modem square script echoes that style.

NMAH 1981.0703.01

Hanukkah lamp

NMAH 1981.0703.01; acc. no. 1981.0703

United States, 1909 (date of patent)

Brass

H 8.5 cm, W 25 cm, D 6.0 cm

Museum purchase, 1981

Negative number 92–13023

This Hanukkah lamp is an early example of the mass-produced lamps that were distributed widely to children through religious-school classes; versions of the lamp continue to be made.

The lamp is made to be used with oil. The oil compartments have crimped edges similar to those of cookie molds and may have been adapted from that usage.

In the center of the backwall is a seven-branched menorah with the Hebrew inscription “The candlestick for the light.” To the right is a roundel with a phrase from one of the blessings recited over the Hanukkah lights: “To light Hanukkah lights.” To the left is a roundel with a phrase from a Hanukkah song: “We light these lights.”

Huppah

NMAH 1984.0163.01; acc. no. 1984.0163
Ita Aber

New York, 1980

Linen, rayon, shells, glass, semiprecious stones, cotton thread

H 148.1 cm, W 161 cm

Gift of the artist

The artist refers to this huppah (wedding canopy) as the “Hallelujah marriage canopy.” The canopy is decorated with appliqués of lovebirds, pomegranates, and hearts, and it incorporates designs using shells, beads, and semiprecious stones. The word hallelujah is embroidered in Hebrew.

Ita Aber is one of the pioneers of the contemporary Jewish arts movement, which began in the United States in the 1970s. She also gave the museum a special box for matzah (cat. no. NMAH 1984.0025.01) and two items for Passover use made by Tess Eichler Aber, her mother-in-law. One is a Passover pillowcase (cat. no. NMAH 1983.0892.02) reworked from a tablecloth she had made for her trousseau in 1922, and the second is a cross-stitch matzah cover made about 1935 (cat. no. NMAH 1983.0892.01).

Pan

NMAH 1986.0102.02; acc. no. 1986.0102

Russia, circa 1900

Brass

H 9.5 cm, D 38.1 cm

Gift of Bella Wemikove Wiser and Estelle S. Wiser, 1986

According to the donors, this pan (schissel) was brought to America about 1912 by Sarah Wemikove. It was used for several different purposes, including baking and perhaps making fruit compote. Sarah’s husband, Aaron, along with their oldest son and daughter, came to America first from their small town outside Moscow. While she waited for Aaron to send for her, Sarah earned money by running a canteen, stocked with her own homemade food, for Russian soldiers. When Sara and the four other children came to the United States, the family settled in Philadelphia. One of the sons died fighting with the U.S. Army in France in 1918. Bella Wemikove Wiser inherited the pan, along with other family heirlooms brought from Russia.

In addition to the brass pan, Estelle Wiser gave the Smithsonian a crocheted wool overskirt made by Sarah Wemikove while en route to America (cat. no. NMAH 1986.0102.01).

New Year greeting card

NMAH 1986.0965.01; acc. no. 1986.0965

Germany, early twentieth century

Lithograph on newsprint

H 8 cm, W 21.6 cm

Museum purchase, 1986

Negative number 92–13049

This New Year greeting card is designed in the form of a check from the “Bank of Heaven,” payable to the recipient, for “Three Hundred Sixty-Five Days of Health, Wealth and Happiness.” The card includes depictions of New York Harbor, a ship sailing past the Brooklyn Bridge, a menorah, the Decalogue, a scroll, and a six-pointed star mounted in a life preserver. The card is inscribed in Hebrew with the traditional New Year wishes, “May you be inscribed [in the Book of Life] for a good year.”

A wide variety of highly inventive New Year greeting cards and postcards were published in Germany for the American market at the turn of the century. The museum’s collection includes 36 greeting cards for the New Year printed by various publishers and designers, principally in Germany, from around the turn of the century.[1]

Memorial print

NMAH 1987.0806.01; acc. no. 1987.0806

Germany, circa 1895

Chromolithograph

H 38 cm, W 51 cm

Gift of Sylvia E. Lipkowitz, 1987

Negative number 92–13048

This memorial print serves as a 50-year calendar of yahrzeit, the annual commemoration of an individual’s death. These printed forms, with inscriptions in Hebrew and German, were purchased by the family of the deceased and completed with the relevant dates corresponding to the Hebrew and secular calendars. The imagery includes a group of mourners; a figure representing Death, with an hourglass, gravestone, and scythe; a figure representing Justice, holding a balance; and willow and cypress trees, symbolizing mourning and redemption.

Charles Lipkowitz purchased the print in 1895 and dedicated it to his father, Isaak Lipkowitz (1841–1895). Isaak Lipkowitz immigrated to the United States from Hungary with his wife and young son.

NMAH 1986.0965.01

NMAH 1987.0806.01

NMAH-TE 1988.0183.01

Torah mantle

NMAH-TE 1988.0183.01; acc. no. 1988.0183

Wenkheim, 1785–1786

Silk, linen, silk thread, metal thread, silk ribbon, glass beads; wool and paper templates; linen lining

H 68 cm, W 41 cm

Gift of Congregation Emanu-El (San Francisco), 1987

Negative number 89–21185

Like numerous other eighteenth-century synagogue textiles, this Torah mantle was made with reused cloth. The silk damask probably dates from the first half of the eighteenth century. The central panel is appliqué. The design consists of spiral columns surmounted by lions and a crown (the keter Torah). The pitcher is a symbol of the Levites, a reference to the family of the donor. The dedication reads “Eliezer, son of Nathan ha-Levi, of blessed memory, and his wife, Rebecca, daughter of Isaac, of blessed memory, from the Holy Congregation of Wenkheim in the year 5546 [1785–1786].”

According to the records of Congregation Emanu-El, the Torah mantle was brought to California during the Gold Rush and was subsequently donated to the synagogue.[1] The mantle was given to the Smithsonian in honor of the 200th anniversary of the Constitution of the United States.

NMAH 1988.0465

Sukkah decoration

NMAH 1988.0465; acc. no. 1988.0465

Yaacov Ne’eman
Haifa, Israel, 1982
Paper

H 38.5 cm, W 47.3 cm
Gift of Zippora Ne’eman, 1988
Negative number 92–13108

This decorative paper-cut commemorates the holiday of Sukkot. Its central motif is a sukkah enclosing a table set with candlesticks and wine for the holiday. Ne’eman also incorporated the symbols of the Decalogue, a crown, and the lions of Judah as well as the lulav and etrog associated with Sukkot. In addition, there is a stylized representation of Jerusalem, depicting towers, domes, windmills, cypress trees, and the Western Wall. The inscription reads “Spread over us your tabemacle of peace.”

Yaacov Ne’eman took up the art of paper-cutting at the age of seventy, when he retired. Born in Hungary in 1908, Ne’eman trained as a goldsmith. He immigrated to Israel in the early 1930s and, because few jobs were available, became a sign painter. In taking up paper-cutting, Ne’eman was part of a revival of a traditional craft previously used to make a variety of ceremonial items, including amulets, mizra plaques, marriage contracts, and Esther scrolls.

Prayerbook

NMAH 1991.864.01; acc. no. 1991.864

Cincinnati, Ohio, 1866
Printed paper

H 17 cm, W 12 cm, D 1.5 cm
Gift of Dr. Jacob Rader Marcus, 1991

This prayerbook, part of a series entitled Minhag America [The American Rite], was developed by Isaac Mayer Wise, pioneer of Reform Judaism in the United States. This volume, “The Divine Service of American Israelites for the New Year,” was published in Cincinnati by Bloch and Company. In 1857 Wise published a daily prayerbook, and in 1866 a Yom Kippur liturgy was also printed. Minhag America represented major innovations in ritual in accordance with the new liberal views. Wise published Minhag America in the hope that a common prayerbook would be accepted by all the congregations in the United States. In fact, Wise’s works did not become the standard for Reform congregations; chosen instead was the Union Prayer Book, published by the Central Conference of American Rabbis in 1894.

Born in Bohemia in 1819, Wise trained for the rabbinate in Europe and immigrated to the United States in 1846. He first served at Congregation Beth-El in Albany, New York, where he introduced numerous changes in synagogue practice, including mixed seating for men and women, counting women for the required quorum of ten for a minyan, delivering sermons in German, a choir comprised of both men and women, and a confirmation service for both young men and young women to replace the traditional Bar Mitzvah. In 1850 there was a rift in the congregation, and Wise went on to serve as rabbi of the newly formed Anshe Emeth Congregation in Albany until 1854. In that year he was appointed rabbi of B’nai Yeshurun in Cincinnati, where he served until his death, in 1890.

Wise was an institution builder who strongly believed that only a union of synagogues could ensure success for Judaism in America. He expounded his views in The Israelite, a newspaper he established in 1854. In 1873 the Union of American Hebrew Congregations was formed, and in 1875 he realized his dream of establishing an American rabbinical seminary with the founding of Hebrew Union College.[1]

This copy of Minhag America originally belonged to M. Bodenheim, whose name is inscribed in gilt letters on the cover. It later became the personal copy of Dr. Jacob Rader Marcus.[2] Marcus is recognized as the scholar principally responsible for establishing the study of American Jewish history as an academic history. An ordained rabbi, Marcus received his doctorate in Berlin in 1925, then returned to Hebrew Union College, where he taught for seven decades. In 1947 Marcus established the American Jewish Archives at Hebrew Union College.

Along with this copy of Minhag America, Marcus gave the Smithsonian the tefillin he received for his Bar Mitzvah.

NMAH-TE 15410

Sampler

NMAH-TE 15410; acc. no. 58305

Slowi Hays

Boston, Massachusetts, 1788

Wool, silk thread

H 43.7 cm, W 17 cm

Loan of Mrs. Edward Cohen, 1915

Negative number 92–13042

This sampler is embroidered with a simple landscape (including a spotted dog, a butterfly, and a tree) as well as two block alphabets and geometric crossbands. One crossband has a basket of flowers flanked by paired sheep, birds, and hearts. Inscribed on the bottom is “Slowi Hays is may [sic] na / me [name] nine years old /1 wrought the same.”

Slowi Hays (her first name is also spelled Sloe, Slowe, Slowey in family records) was born on 29 June 1779 in Kingston, Rhode Island. Her great-grandfather Michael (died 1740) immigrated to America from the Netherlands in the first quarter of the eighteenth century. She was the granddaughter of Judah Hays (1703–1764). Her father, Moses Michael Hays (1739–1805), first lived in Newport, Rhode Island, and then moved to Boston. He was an insurance broker, dealer in bills of exchange on London, and a dabbler in real estate.[1] Active in Freemasonry, Hays served as grand master of the Masonic Grand Lodge of Massachusetts from 1788 to 1792.[2] Slowi’s mother was Rachel Myers of Virginia.

Moses Michael and Rachel Hays had seven children, two boys and five girls. One son, Solomon, died in infancy. Slowi and two of her sisters, Rebecca and Catherine, never married. Her brother Judah, who inherited the family fortune, became a founder of the Boston Athenaeum.[3] In 1796 two of her sisters, Judith and Sarah (Sally), married sons of the renowned colonial American silversmith Myer Myers. Sarah married Moses Mears Myers, and Judith married Samuel Myers. After their marriages, Judith and Sarah both moved to Richmond, Virginia, and were joined by Slowi and Catherine. Slowi died in Richmond in 1836.

The Hays household also included Moses Michael’s sister Reyna Hays Touro, widow of the Reverend Isaac Touro of Newport, and her four children. Her son, Judah Touro, became a prominent merchant and philanthropist in New Orleans.

Caroline Myers Cohen, who deposited the sampler at the Smithsonian, was a granddaughter of Judith Hays and Samuel Myers. Her parents were Samuel Hays Myers and Eliza K. Mordecai.[4] Cohen also gave the NMAH Division of Textiles a number of items of clothing, several of them from the eighteenth century, which had belonged to various members of the extended Hays and Myers families. Included are satin slippers worn by Joyce Mears Myers about 1788 (NMAH-TE 15444), two silk knit nightcaps that belonged to Moses Michael Hays (NMAH-TE 15441), knee breeches and shoe buckles worn by M.M. Myers around 1795 (NMAH-TE 15473), and the lace wedding veil worn by her great-aunt Sally Hays Myers at her wedding in 1796 (NMAH-TE 15443).[5]

“Star-Spangled Banner” scroll

NMAH-PH 31842; acc. no. 67600

Israel Fine

Baltimore, Maryland, 1914

Scroll: ink on parchment, wooden rollers (English translation printed on silk)

Mantle: silk, silk thread, silk ribbon, spangles

H 38.1 cm, W 20.3 cm (closed)

Gift of Israel Fine, 1921

Negative numbers 92–13003, 92–13004, 92–13006

Made to resemble a Torah, this scroll was made in celebration of the centennial of the composition of the national anthem, “The Star-Spangled Banner.” The scroll contains a hymn written in Hebrew on parchment by Israel Fine and an insert with an English translation by Dr. Tobias Salzmann. The scroll is attached to oak rollers, which were cut down at some point and the handles removed.

The English translation is printed on white silk with a border of red, white, and blue ribbon. The silk panel was originally rolled into the scroll following the Hebrew text. Highlighted in red and blue ink are the words “The Star-Spangled Banner.” There is a portrait of George Washington, above which is an eagle superimposed on an American flag; below is a laurel wreath inscribed “The Father of his country.”

The end of the silk panel contains a portrait of Abraham Lincoln, above which is an unfurled American flag with the words “E Pluribus Unum” on a ribbon flying from the flagstaff. Below Lincoln’s portrait is an eagle in flight holding a laurel branch in its claws, the shield of the United States, and the words “Emancipation Proclamation Abraham Lincoln.” This is followed by the famous “With malice toward none” section of Lincoln’s second inaugural address.

On one side of the textile mantle of the scroll is an American flag with a ribbon inscribed “The Star-Spangled banner.” A Hebrew inscription reads “The flag [of the tribe] of Judah” (Numbers 2:3). The back of the mantle has an appliquéd American flag flanked by the dates 1814–1914. Below in Hebrew is “Israel Levin Fine / Froma Minna Fine/ 1865–1915 / Baltimore.” Apparently the scroll was made to celebrate their 50th wedding anniversary as well.

Israel Fine (1847–1930) was born in Pakruoy (Pakruojis), Lithuania.[1] His father, Judah, was a Talmudic scholar, and his mother tended the family business, a dry-goods store. In 1865 Fine married Minna Racusin. Following their marriage he continued his studies for four more years before entering the commercial world. He had his own business and then became a sales representative in Moscow. Fine was a prolific correspondent, and he wrote to business colleagues in Lithuania, Russia, Poland, and Germany. He wrote in Hebrew, which was unusual at that time.

In 1891 Fine moved to America with his wife, four daughters, and a son.[2] After a brief stay in Philadelphia, he moved to Baltimore and opened the clothing firm of Israel Fine and Son. Fine became active in the Jewish community of Baltimore and was close to some of its prominent members. Most notable was Rabbi Benjamin Szold of the Oheb Shalom Synagogue. In 1902 Szold presented Fine with a carved wooden cane inscribed with the verse from Psalms 110:2: “The Lord will send the staff of your strength from Zion.” Fine was also a friend of Dr. Harry Friedenwald. It is possible that Fine decided to present the “Star-Spangled Banner” scroll to the Smithsonian because of this personal association.

Israel Fine was a delegate to the World Zionist Congress in London in 1904. Following the Balfour Declaration, in 1917, Fine wrote to several U.S. Congressmen urging them to support the declaration. In 1926, when he was almost 80 years old, he traveled to Palestine, where he met Sir Herbert Samuel, the first high commissioner under the British Mandate.[3]

Fine was a poet who wrote in both Hebrew and English. In 1907 he published Ng’inash Ben-Jehudah: Selections of Poems and Memorial in Memory of His Parents, His Sons, and of Celebrated Men, Well-Known Institutions, Houses of Worship, Etc. A presentation copy of this volume, apparently given to President Theodore Roosevelt, is in the collection of the Library of Congress.[4] Among the poems are two in honor of President Roosevelt and memorials to President McKinley and Secretary of State John Hay as well as memorial tributes to Theodor Herzl and Benjamin Szold.

Copies of his book were sent to many dignitaries all over the world. Fine saved the acknowledgments he received, including letters from Louis D. Brandeis, Jacob Schiff, Rabbi Stephen S. Wise, Nathan Straus, George Eastman, James Cardinal Gibbons (of Baltimore), rabbis in Jerusalem, Rome, Dublin, and Djerba, a Jewish publisher in Japan, the Vatican, Lord Balfour, the German kaiser, and the secretaries of several American presidents.

Fine was a very charitable person, supporting numerous worthy causes and institutions, both Jewish and non-Jewish, in the United States, Palestine, and elsewhere. Although his contributions were substantial, he was not tremendously wealthy; interestingly, however, many of his donations were reported in the press. Perhaps it was because of the nature of his giving. A telling example was reported in the Baltimore American on 9 July 1922, when Fine decided “to forgo a banquet in order to alleviate the suffering of the needy of his own and other races on his birthday, when he will be 75 years old.” On that occasion ten checks were distributed to such organizations as the United Charities, the Free Loan Association of Jerusalem, the Babies’ Milk Fund, and the Parochial School of Baltimore.

NMAH-PH 31842, neg. no. 92–13003

NMAH-PH 31842, neg. no. 92–13004

NMAH-PH 31842, neg. no. 92–13006

NMAH-PH 31842, neg. no. 92–13006

Bibliography:

Kleeblatt and Wertkin, The Jewish Heritage in American Folk Art, no. 92. Smithsonian Institution, Celebration, no. 252.

Neg.no. 92–13041

Purim Gazette

NMAH Archives Center
New York, New York, 1893
Lithograph

H 27 cm, W 19 cm

Negative number 92–13041

A number of documents relating to Jews and Judaism are contained within the Warshaw Collection of Business Americana in the National Museum of American History Archives Center. The collection, which numbers over a million items, was formed beginning about 1920 by Isadore Warshaw, a New York bookseller, and was sold to the Smithsonian in 1967. The research value of the collection is enormous. Warshaw’s avid collecting efforts provide a remarkable resource on the American Jewish experience during this period (one of the many fields represented). The items of Judaica include: small prayer books and calendars printed in the United States; advertising cards and letterheads of Jewish-owned businesses; newsletters of various Jewish social and political organizations and institutions of learning; texts of lectures presented in the United States on Jewish history, social welfare, art, history, and the state of Israel; anti-Jewish pamphlets published by various American organizations; anti-Semitic trading cards; and original certificates, documents, and photo-etchings of important Jewish leaders and institutions.

The Purim Gazette was the annual publication of a fund-raising event held by the Purim Association, founded in 1862. The aim of the Association was

to do credit to the festival, to our city, and to ourselves, by conducting the Purim Ball so that “mirth, gladness, joy and honor” shall now, as in the days of Mordecai and Esther,[1] reign undisturbed; and “Merry Purim” implies merriment superior to unrestrained liberty—the joyousness that is in harmony with a festival based upon brotherly love and kindness, thoughtfulness for the poor, and patriotic zeal.[2]

The proceeds from these elaborate masquerade balls and carnivals were given to support various causes in different years. Also in the museum’s collection is a ticket to a charity ball in aid of the Home for Aged and Infirm Hebrews, held under the management of the Purim Association at the Metropolitan Opera House in 1888, and a pamphlet for a charity ball to benefit the Hebrew Orphan Asylum, dated 1891.

The Purim Gazette was printed by the Industrial School of the Hebrew Benevolent and Orphan Asylum Society of the City of New York.

NMAH 1992.0391

J. & D. Miller cutlery, sign, photographs, and documents

NMAH 1979.1204.1-87, NMAH 1992.0391, NMAH 1992.3159

New York, New York, 1909–1969

Gift of Irving D. Miller and Irene Miller Galdston
Negative number 92–14806

Seeking economic opportunity was an important aspect of the American dream for Jewish immigrants. The tools of the trade of several different individuals were documented as part of the Smithsonian’s Judaica survey because they are of particular interest as examples of the process of immigration and acculturation.

The J. & D. Miller Collection consists of 87 knife-making tools, knives, instruments for berit milah (circumcision), and alafim, special knives used in the processing of animals in adherence with the ritual laws of kashrut (kosher), as well as a shop sign, a catalog in Yiddish and English, photographs, and documents, including correspondence from customers in more than 30 states and 17 foreign countries. The collection provides a fascinating glimpse of the lives of two Russian Jewish immigrants in America in the early twentieth century.

The shop sign (NMAH 1992.0391) reads in Yiddish: “Here is Miller’s / Miller’s alofim[alafim] and mohel messers are the best and finest in the entire world / They are guaranteed never to rust.” Four examples of their ritual instruments are mounted on the sign: an ofos alef, a knife for poultry; a gasos alef a knife for cattle; a mohel mashinke, a circumcision clamp; and a mohel messer, a circumcision knife.

Joseph and David Miller were born in Chotinetch, a small village in western Russia, near Minsk, two brothers in a family of seven children of poor tenant farmers.[1] David, born about 1883, was the eldest, and he was sent as a young boy to apprentice with his uncle, who owned a small knife-making factory. Joseph followed suit a few years later. At age 19 Joseph fled Russia to avoid military conscription. He stopped first in Liverpool, England, where another uncle, also a cutler, lived. But he decided that America was the “land of opportunity,” and he made his way to the United States, arriving in 1905. In 1908 Joseph helped his brother David, who had served in the Russian Army, to join him in America.

Joseph opened his first shop on Canal Street on New York’s Lower East Side in 1909, and the brothers became partners about 1916. The area was crowded with immigrants from eastern Europe, many of whom worked in the needle trades, either in sweatshops or in their own crowded tenement apartments, and there was a tremendous need for adequate tools for cutting fur, felt, leather, and cloth. In addition, the Millers became well known for the manufacture of Jewish ritual knives. As did other members of this upwardly mobile immigrant generation, they later moved their factory to the Bronx.

The brothers’ reputation grew because of the fine quality and extraordinary durability of their products. Each item they made bore the trademark “J. & D. Miller N.Y. Guaranteed,” and they built their business on their practice of standing behind their products when the items needed sharpening, repair, or replacement. They later became known for their innovations in specialty blades used by the military during World War II, for surgical instruments, and for knives used to cut a variety of materials, from heavy wool to linoleum. David Miller was known for being particularly meticulous, especially in procedures that required extraordinary skill, such as manufacturing curved blades.

David Miller retired in 1943, but Joseph Miller carried on the business into the late 1960s. When he died, at age 85, he had worked nearly to the very end. The Miller brothers saw themselves as examples of the fulfillment of the American dream—poor immigrants with little formal schooling who were given the opportunity and freedom to use their special talents to achieve success.

Gertrude M, Oppenheimer Bequest

A 1981 bequest from the estate of Gertrude M. Oppenheimer to the Cooper-Hewitt Museum includes three samplers with Hebrew alphabets. Oppenheimer, a resident of New York City, collected over 500 samplers. A recluse whose chief task was to nurse her ailing father, Oppenheimer rarely had any personal contact with the outside world. Little is known about her reasons for collecting samplers. Unfortunately, no information about the makers of the samplers accompanied the accession.[1]

Sampler

SI-CH 1981.28.18

Eastern Europe, 1888

Cotton, wool thread, cotton thread

H 48.9 cm, W 49.3 cm

Bequest of Gertrude M. Oppenheimer, 1981

The sampler includes Latin, Russian, and Hebrew alphabets and the numerals 1-0. The maker, identified in Cyrillic characters at the lower right as “S.V.,” experimented with a variety of scripts. A phrase at bottom center means “hearty appetite” in Russian.

Sampler

SI-CH 1981.28.190

Germany, 1796
Silk, cotton thread
H 35 cm, W 35.5 cm

Bequest of Gertrude M. Oppenheimer, 1981

On the top row of the sampler, in cross-stitch, is the complete Latin alphabet. On the next row are the numerals 1 -0 and the Hebrew alphabet. The third row displays the Latin alphabet and the date, 1796. Below this row is a series of Hebrew monograms and the initials R.H., each of which is surmounted by a different crown. All the Hebrew monograms have the same second letter, thus possibly referring to members of the same family.

A variety of motifs is scattered throughout the rest of the sampler, including various trees, flowers, cherries, a deer, and birds, including a double-headed eagle. In the center is the monogram M.R., flanked by the biblical vignettes of Cain slaying Abel (Genesis 3:8) and the Spies carrying a cluster of grapes (Numbers 13:23).

Sampler

SI-CH 1981.28.260

Germany, 1808

Linen, silk thread

H 35.5 cm, W 28.5 cm

Bequest of Gertrude M. Oppenheimer, 1981

At the top of the sampler are horizontal bands of embroidered geometric patterns in cross-stitch, the complete Latin alphabet, the numerals 1-12 (with 5 and 6 repeated), and the complete Hebrew alphabet. Directly below the horizontal bands are several crowns, a large bird, and several geometric motifs. Farther down in the open field is a flowerpot with three pomegranates alongside what appear to be two candlesticks. At the lower right is a crown with two birds, a monogram in Hebrew, and the date 1808.

Sukkah decoration

SI-CH 1929.16.1
Italy, eighteenth century
Silk, silk thread, metal thread
H 51 cm, W 69 cm

Gift of Ehrich Galleries in memory of Mrs. Louis B. Ehrich

The scene on this sukkah decoration displays an open courtyard with an arcade in the background. Above the central arch of the arcade is a Hebrew inscription identifying the subject as Simat Bet ha-Sho’evah, the Festival of the Drawing of the Water. At the sides of the panel are stepped platforms on which musicians stand. A man blowing a shofar or a trumpet is on the right and a man playing a tambourine is on the left. In the foreground are three male figures dancing, juggling, and performing acrobatics.

SI-CH 1929.16.1

Simat Bet ha-Sho’evah originally took place in the outer court of the Temple in Jerusalem during the Sukkot holiday. The representation here is drawn from the Babylonian Talmud (Sukkot 5:1–4): there were three golden candlesticks in the courtyard, and “men of piety and good works used to dance before them with burning torches in their hands, singing songs and praises.” The Hebrew inscription on the sukkah decoration relates to this description. It was also said that whoever had not seen the Simat Bet ha-Sho’evah had never witnessed real joy in his life (Sukkot 5:1). There is a story that during the celebration, Rabbi Simeon ben Gamliel, the great scholar and head of the Sanhedrin, juggled eight torches, as seen here.

Two embroidered panels in the collection of the Jewish Museum depicting the Tabernacle in the Wilderness (catalog number F5207) and King Solomon’s throne (catalog number F5208) are similar to this work.[1]

Bibliography:

Encyclopaedia Judaica, s.v. “Sukkot.”

1. Winter and S. Rachum, Ingathering: Ceremony and Tradition in New York Public Collections (New York: Jewish Museum, 1968), no. 129.

Fragments from the Cairo Genizah

Freer 08.44.1-50

Old Cairo (Fostat), Egypt, medieval period
Ink on paper

The Hebrew word genizah means “storing away out of sight,” and the term came to be used to describe a place to store books, documents, and ritual objects that are no longer usable but cannot be discarded because they contain the name of God.[1]

The existence of the genizah at the Ezra Synagogue in Cairo was known as early as 1753, when it was seen by Simon von Geldern,[2] and was reported again by Jacob Saphir in 1864.[3] Neither of these men entered the genizah because of local superstition that harm would befall anyone who entered. Despite the warnings, occasionally items were illicitly removed from the genizah and sold. In 1896 fragments of what was later identified as The Book of Ben Sira were sold to visitors from England by a local dealer. Professor Solomon Schechter, the scholar who made the attribution, subsequently traveled to Cairo and was able to remove about 100,000 pages from the genizah, which were taken to Cambridge for study. Another 100,000 fragments were later removed and deposited in other major libraries.

In 1908 Charles L. Freer traveled to Egypt and bought 50 fragments from a dealer in Gizeh. It is not clear whether the fragments actually came from the genizah or not. They may have been removed from the synagogue when it was undergoing repair, or they may have been dug up after they had been buried elsewhere by synagogue authorities.[4]

Bibliography:

Gottheil and Worrell, Fragments from the Cairo Genizah.

NMAH 1994.0334.01

Chess set

NMAH 1994.0334.01

Carl Stienbrenner
Auschwitz, Poland, 1944 or 1945
Wood colored with shoe polish
H 7.5 cm, W 15.5 cm, D 11 cm

Gift of Sherri Sue Adams in memory of John Leben Adams
Negative number 95–1979

This chess set was made at the Auschwitz concentration camp by Carl Stienbrenner and his father, who died in the camp. Carl was liberated and emigrated to the United States. The chess set was given to John Leben Adams by Stienbrenner in 1959.

NMAH 1995.0342.01

Torah crown

NMAH 1995.0342.01; acc. no. 1995.0342

Bernard Bernstein

Rochester, New York, 1963

Silver, partially gold-plated
H 21.9 cm, D 21.9 cm

Gift of the artist in memory of Joseph Newman, 1995

Negative number: none

Bernard Bernstein was born and raised in New York. After finishing an undergraduate degree in industrial arts education at the City College of New York, he went on to complete two master’s degrees, one in arts education and the second in fine arts at the School for American Craftsmen of the Rochester Institute of Technology. This Torah crown was designed and made in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the MFA degree. It was the first time an object of Jewish ceremonial art was ever done as a thesis at the school. In his decision to craft an object of Judaica, Bernstein cites the influence of Ludwig Wolpert, with whom he had studied at the Tobe Pascher Workshop at the Jewish Museum in New York beginning in 1959. When he met Wolpert, Bernstein let him know that apart from an understanding of Yiddish, he had no knowledge of the Hebrew alphabet or of Jewish history, ritual, symbols, and literature. However, what for Bernstein began as a quest to learn about the formal and technical issues of silversmithing became a spiritual one as well.

The crown is made in three sections. The circular base has a pierced inscription: “This is the teaching that Moses set before the Israelites” (Deuteronomy 4:44). Mounted on the top rim of the base are 12 forged U-shaped units, joined at their tops to form a 12-pointed crown. Resting inside the top rim of the base is a truncated cone-shaped structure to which symbols of the 12 Israelite tribes are attached. Bernstein fashioned the symbols based on the traditional imagery associated with each tribe as derived from Jacob’s blessing of his sons (Genesis 49:1–28). Bernstein also intended to suggest a tent-like form in the overall shape of the cone, ribs, and finial, which he associated with the tent of meeting in the wilderness (Exodus 25:8). The gold-plated crown finial is formed by a Hebrew inscription: “Give honor to the Torah” (from the liturgy recited when the Torah scroll is read).

Torah finials

NMAH 1995.0343.01, NMAH 1995.0343.02; acc. no. 1995.0343

Bernard Bernstein

New York, New York, 1966

Silver

H 25.4 cm, D 7.6 cm

Gift in memory of Joseph Newman by his wife, Rosalyn, and his daughters Elisa Newman, Marjorie Newman, and Lorraine Richardson

Negative number: none

Bernard Bernstein continued his academic training at New York University, where he received an Ed.D. in creative arts. This pair of Torah finials is part of a group of ten silver Torah ornaments that Bernstein made in partial fulfillment of the requirements for his doctoral degree. It was the first time that an advanced degree was granted for research and artistic production in the field of Jewish liturgical art. Bernstein’s thesis investigated the history, function, style, and iconography of Torah ornaments.

The design of these rimmonim is based on a contemporary interpretation of two motifs frequently used in the design of baroque Torah finials: the tower, which forms the body, and the crown, which is used for the finial. In this pair of finials, the two are combined, giving the effect of a crown and tower simultaneously. Each finial is composed of a tapered tube surmounted by six spire-like shapes. The six spires represent the six days of creation, and the combined number of spirals on both rimmonim symbolize the 12 tribes. In contrast to baroque examples, there is no surface ornamentation; liveliness is achieved through the interplay of flat surfaces, sharp comers, and diagonals.

Glossary

Ashkenazi: The term Ashkenaz is derived from the medieval name for Germany; an important Jewish community developed in the Rhineland beginning in about the tenth century. From there the Ashkenazi culture spread to eastern Europe, and in modem times the term Ashkenazim refers to their descendants in the many countries to which they migrated. Ashkenazim are differentiated from the Sephardim, Jews who are descended from ancestors who came from the Iberian peninsula.

Atarah, pl. atarot: Atarah means “crown”; the term was used as early as biblical times. The word also refers to the band affixed to the upper portion of the tallit and which is around the neck when the tallit is worn. The atarah sometimes contains the blessing that is recited when the tallit is put on.

Bar mitzvah, bat mitzvah: In Judaism, the passage to adulthood is marked by an act of religious adherence and commitment. For boys, the ceremony accepting the adult responsibilities is called bar mitzvah and takes place at age 13; bat mitzvah, the ceremony for a girl, traditionally takes place at age 12, although many girls now celebrate their bat mitzvah at age 13 as well.

Berit milah: The circumcision ceremony, at which baby boys are named. (Girls were customarily named in the synagogue, although many families are now developing a berit bat, a naming ceremony welcoming the baby girl to the covenant.) Circumcision is the sign of the sacred covenant between God and Abraham (Genesis 17:11). The ceremony is therefore termed the covenant of circumcision (berit milah). The ritual is performed by a specially trained circumciser, the mohel, when the male child is eight days old.

Chair of Elijah: The prophet Elijah is described in Malachi 3:1 as the “messenger of the covenant.” The term covenant in this phrase has traditionally been interpreted as the covenant of circumcision, hence the custom of providing a chair for Elijah (kisé Eliyahu) at the berit milah ceremony.

Etrog: The citron, a fruit resembling a lemon. This is one of the four species of plants that are used during Sukkot. Containers are used to protect the fragile fruit from injury when it is not in use; sometimes the shape of the container is patterned after the form of the fruit.

Genizah: A depository for scrolls that contain the name of God and which therefore cannot be destroyed.

Haggadah: The text used at the seder to narrate the story and interpret the intricate seder ritual. There are thousands of manuscript and printed editions of the Haggadah; many of these texts are illustrated.

allah: The special bread eaten on the Sabbath and holidays. It is customary on the Sabbath to use two loaves for the motzi, the blessing over the bread, to symbolize the double portion of manna that the Israelites received on Fridays so that they would not have to gather food (which is considered work) on the Sabbath.

Hanukkah: The Festival of Lights, a joyous winter holiday that commemorates events that occurred in ancient Israel about 165 B.C.E. At that time, the land had fallen under the rule of Syrian Greeks, who prohibited all Jewish worship in Palestine and desecrated the Temple in Jerusalem. Under the leadership of Judah the Maccabee, the Jews entered the Temple and cleansed and rededicated it for Jewish worship. With this triumph, the Jews won freedom from political and religious oppression.

The Talmud relates that as the preparations were made to rededicate the Jerusalem Temple, only one flask of pure oil, enough for but a single day, was found. A miracle occurred and the oil for the Temple menorah lasted eight days.

Hanukkah lamp: A lamp used in the celebration of Hanukkah. Lights are kindled for eight days beginning on the 25th of the Hebrew month of Kislev. One light is lit the first night and one added each subsequent night. Because the light of the Hanukkah lamp many not be used for work or illumination, a shammash, or servant light, is lit first and is used to kindle the others. A great variety of materials and many different techniques have been used to fashion Hanukkah lamps.

Havdalah: Havdalah literally means “the separation.” This ceremony marks the end of the Sabbath and the beginning of the new week. Blessings are recited over wine, spices, and light. For the blessing over light, a special twisted candle is used.

Huppah: A canopy under which the bride and groom stand during their wedding ceremony. It symbolizes the home they will share.

Judenstern: The Judenstern, literally “Jewish star,” is a form of hanging lamp that developed in central Europe. Since antiquity, it has been the custom of Jewish women to welcome the Sabbath and holidays by kindling lights. Although no fixed number is prescribed for the ritual, two lights are often cited as a minimum fulfillment of the Law. This is a reflection of the variation of the wording of the fourth commandment. In Exodus the Decalogue reads, “Remember the Sabbath day” (Exodus 20:8), whereas the later Deuteronomic source states, “Observe the Sabbath day” (Deuteronomy 5:12). Many different forms of candlesticks and lamps have been used, generally reflecting the style of lamps in the particular locale.

The form of this type of lamp derives from star-shaped hanging lamps used throughout Europe in the Middle Ages. This type of lamp became associated primarily with Jewish ritual use by the sixteenth century, hence the term Judenstern.

Kabbalah: The mystical tradition. Alongside normative Judaism, there has always been a strong mystical movement whose importance varies from era to era. The kabbalah encompasses the writings, principally the Zohar, and the philosophy of Jewish mysticism.

Kaddish: A memorial prayer written in Aramaic, recited by the mourner. The kaddish praises God and yet has no mention of death; rather, it reaffirms God’s greatness.

Ketubbah, pi. ketubbot: Marriage contract. The practice of writing this document dates back to the first century B.C.E. and originated as a method for the groom to stipulate his legal obligations to the bride. Beginning in the seventeenth century in Italy, many ketubbot began to be richly illuminated.

Kiddush cup: A cup for wine used during the recitation of the sanctification prayer (kiddush) for the Sabbath and holidays. The kiddush is recited on Friday evening, and a variation of the prayer is said after the morning services on the Sabbath (either in the synagogue or at home before lunch). Similarly, the kiddush is recited before the meal on the eve of holidays and after services during the day of the festival.

Kittel: A white robe worn on Yom Kippur to signify purity. In certain communities, it is also traditional for the bridegroom to wear a kittel during the wedding ceremony, and it is also worn by the person who conducts the Passover seder.

Lulav: This term refers to three branches, one of myrtle, one of palm, and one of willow, which are bound together and used with the etrog during Sukkot rituals. In accordance with the biblical injunction of Leviticus 23:40, during the morning service in the synagogue the hallel, songs of thanksgiving, are recited with the etrog and lulav. They are also carried in a procession around the synagogue during prayers called hoshanot.

Matzah: unleavened bread. Matzah is eaten on Passover as a symbolic association with the hasty departure of the Hebrews from Egypt, which prevented them from waiting for their dough to rise. Matzah is referred to as the “bread of affliction.” The matzah cover is a decorative textile used to cover the three matzot used during the seder.

Mazal tov: Literally, mazal means “a constellation,” and mazal tov means literally “under a good constellation.” The phrase has since come to mean “good luck.”

Megillah, pl. megillot: A scroll. There are five biblical megillot: Esther, Song of Songs, Ruth, Lamentations, and Ecclesiastes.

Menorah: The seven-branched candelabrum of the Tabernacle and Temple, often referred to as a symbol of the seven days of creation, and of Judaism itself.

Mishnah: A rabbinical work in six sections, containing the development of the laws of the Torah in the post-biblical period; codified by Judah Ha-Nasi about 200 C.E.

Mitzvah, pl. mitzvot: Commandment. According to the Talmud, there are 613 mitzvot in the Torah, which each Jew should obey. The mitzvot deal with every aspect of life. A number of lists have been made by sages as to what the exact 613 are. However, even the most observant Jew cannot fulfill all of them, as some deal with the ancient Temple in Jerusalem and its sacrificial cult. The word mitzvah has taken on additional meaning so that it often connotes a good deed as well.

Omer calendar: A calendar used in the home or synagogue for the ritual counting of the 49 days between Passover and Shavuot. In ancient times, the second night of Passover was celebrated as the start of the barley harvest (omer), and the counting begins on that night.

Passover (Pesa): Passover, which begins on the 14th of the Hebrew month of Nisan, marks the beginning of springtime and the rebirth of the land. Pesa is the Festival of Redemption, recalling the Exodus from Egypt and proclaiming the message of freedom for all of mankind.

Pidyon Ha-Ben: Redemption of the son. The one-month-old firstborn is symbolically “redeemed” from priestly service through an offering of money to a kohen, a descendant of the priestly tribe. Decorative plates were sometimes made for this festive event.

Purim: The Feast of Lots. This holiday celebrates the triumph of the beautiful Jewish Queen Esther and her uncle Mordecai over Haman, the prime minister of King Ahasuerus, who had plotted to annihilate all the Jews of the Persian Empire. Purim comes in the early spring on the 14th of the Hebrew month of Adar, and it is celebrated with the reading of the Esther scroll in a carnival-like atmosphere in the synagogue. During the reading of the scroll, the congregation blots out the name of Haman with noisemakers of various sorts. Purim is a time for plays and masquerade, a custom dating from the Middle Ages.

Rimmonim, sing, rimmon: The word rimmonim is Hebrew for “pomegranates” and refers to the finials that decorate the staves of the Torah scroll. Rimmonim are believed to be among the oldest Torah ornaments. Generally, rimmonim are decorated with bells—a reference to the robes of the High Priest: “a golden bell and a pomegranate, a golden bell and a pomegranate, all around the hem of the robe” (Exodus 28:33).

Rosh ha-Shanah: The Jewish New Year holiday, which occurs on the first day of the month of Tishri.

Seder: Passover begins with the seder, a ceremonial feast with ritual designed so that every member of the family, especially the young, can learn together and relive the experience of liberation.

Sephardi: Sephardim are descendants of the Jews of Spain and Portugal. With the expulsion of the Jews in 1492, many Sephardim migrated to Holland, Italy, Greece, North Africa, throughout the Turkish Empire, and later to the United States. In Israel today, the term Sephardim is also used to refer to the Edot Mizrach, Jews from communities whose history is centered in the eastern Mediterranean and for whom the dominant external factor from the seventh century onward was Islam.

Shabbat: The period from twilight on Friday to Saturday evening, the Jewish Sabbath. The prescribed period of rest on the Sabbath emulates God’s rest on the seventh day of Creation.

Shaddai: One of the names of God.

Shavuot: The Feast of Weeks, which commemorates the revelation of the Law to Moses on Mount Sinai. Shavuot comes seven weeks after the bringing of the omer, the barley harvest, when another harvest offering was to be made. Shavuot falls on the sixth day of the Hebrew month of Sivan.

Shofar: Ram’s horn. The shofar is one of the earliest musical instruments. Used in ancient times to signal important times and events, the blowing of the shofar on the High Holy Days is a symbolic call to arouse the worshiper to ethical as well as ritual responsibilities. The shofar is sounded many times during services on Rosh ha-Shanah and once only at the conclusion of Yom Kippur.

Simat Torah: A one-day celebration occurring at the end of Sukkot, when the yearly cycle of reading the Torah is completed and immediately begun again. Simat Torah is celebrated with great rejoicing, highlighted by the dancing with Torah scrolls around the synagogue.

Spice box: Also called besamim or hadas. This box holds the spices over which a blessing is recited at the havdalah ceremony.

Sukkah: A special booth constructed as a temporary dwelling reminiscent of those that sheltered the Hebrews in the wilderness after the Exodus from Egypt. The sukkah is shaded with greens, but is to remain open to the sky. Traditionally, the walls are decorated with fruits and vegetables to symbolize the bountiful harvest. It is customary to eat, and among very observant Jews even to sleep, in the sukkah throughout the holiday.

Sukkot: The joyful Feast of Tabernacles. Sukkot begins on the 15th day of Tishri, just days after Yom Kippur. Historically, Sukkot is a reminder of the temporary dwellings which sheltered the Hebrews in the wilderness after the Exodus from Egypt. Sukkot is also the autumn harvest festival.

Tallit: A prayer shawl. At the four corners are tzizit, fringe knotted in a prescribed manner and worn as a constant reminder of God’s commandments (Numbers 13:38–41). It is customary among Orthodox boys and men to wear a form of the tallit under their clothing at all times. Traditions vary as to when the tallit starts to be worn. In some communities one wears a tallit beginning at age 13; in others, not until after marriage.

Talmud: A vast compendium of post-biblical law and lore, mainly the development of the law of the Mishnah. There are two versions of the Talmud: the Babylonian, long deemed the more important, which was finished about 600 C.E., and the Palestinian or Jerusalem, which was finished about 500 C.E. Both are mainly legal in character and mostly in Aramaic. Orthodox Judaism believes that all the Law, written and oral, was given to Moses at Mount Sinai. Therefore, following the laws of the Talmud is part and parcel with following the Torah.

Tefillin: Phylacteries. In accordance with the biblical imperative “Bind them as a sign on your hand and let them serve as a symbol between your eyes” (Deuteronomy 6:8), the tefillin are traditionally worn by men during the morning prayer service except on the Sabbath and holidays. The tefillin are cubes containing specific passages from the Torah written by a scribe on parchment and attached to long leather straps. One is strapped to the inside of the left arm, the second on the center of the forehead.

Tiq: A case for the Torah, used in some eastern and Sephardi communities. The case is cylindrical and may be made of metal or wood. The case opens down the middle, with the scroll fixed standing within. When the Torah is read, the tiq is placed upright on the tevah, the reader’s lectern, and opened to reveal the text. In most instances, the only added decoration are rimmonim on rods that protrude from the top of the case, although this use is only ornamental.

Tisha b’Av: Whereas the joy of life is the dominant mood of the Sabbath and Jewish festivals, the calendar also records days of mourning that commemorate calamities of the past. Tisha b’Av, the ninth day of the Hebrew month of Av, which falls in midsummer, commemorates the destruction of Solomon’s Temple in Jerusalem by the Babylonians in 586 B.C.E., the destruction of the Second Temple by the Romans in 70 C.E., and the Jewish people’s sufferings in exile. On this date, the expulsion of the Jews from Spain in 1492 is also said to have occurred. Tisha b’Av is observed with fasting and the reading in the synagogue of the Book of Lamentations, which reflects the spirit of the day.

Torah: The handwritten parchment scroll inscribed with the first five books of the Hebrew Bible. The reading of the Torah is the central element of the worship service. During the course of the year, the entire Torah is read in the synagogue. A section is read aloud by Jews worldwide on the Sabbath, on festivals, and on Mondays and Thursdays. Each Torah scroll is handwritten by a specially trained sofer, scribe, on specially prepared pieces of parchment or vellum that are carefully sewn together. The text is written without punctuation and is never illustrated or decorated. Because of strict traditions governing the writing, the appearance of the Torah scroll remains unchanged, though there are variations that identify the scribe as Ashkenazi or Sephardi.

The term Torah means “teaching” and has come to have many meanings in addition to the five Books of Moses. The term can refer to both written and oral interpretations of the Bible and to all Jewish law and beliefs. The unfolding of Jewish history is found in the Torah. Jewish holidays and life cycle observances are in turn derived from Jewish history.

Torah ark (aron): The Torah is enclosed in an ark, which derives its name from the biblical Ark of the Covenant of the Tabernacle and Temple. In most instances, the ark is placed on the wall facing towards Jerusalem. The term aron kodesh is used for the ark in Askhenazi synagogues; Sephardi and eastern communities use the term heikal.

Torah ark curtain (parokhet): A curtain hung in front of the ark. A valence, kapporet, is often hung with it. Both have biblical antecedents in the Tabernacle (Exodus 26:31–34).

Torah binder: A band used to tie the Torah scroll to prevent it from unrolling. A variety of imagery is used to decorate them. A specific genre of binder that developed in the seventeenth century in southern Germany is the wimpel, which is made from the linen cloth used to wrap the eight-day-old baby boy at his circumcision ceremony. The cloth is cut into strips and sewn together to form a long band that is embroidered or painted, usually by the mother or grandmother, with the child’s name and birthdate and the prayer recited at the circumcision ceremony that the child grow to “study Torah, to be married, and to do good deeds.”

Torah crown: Also called keter Torah. A Torah crown is sometimes used in place of the rimmonim. This variation is found mainly in Ashkenazi communities; in Italy and in some Sephardi communities the crown is typically used in conjunction with the finials.

Torah mantle: As a sign of honor and respect, the Torah is always covered when not being read. The Torah coverings and ornaments are of the finest materials available to the community. There are variations in form and style depending on the region and time period. In Ashkenazi communities, all the Torah decorations are removed when the Torah is read. In some communities of the Near East and some Sephardi communities, the Torah remains enclosed in a case called a tiq.

Torah pointer (yad): As ancient law forbids touching the sacred text, the yad is used as a pointer when reading from the Torah scroll.

Torah shield (tas): An ornamental metal plaque hung from the staves of the Torah. The practice of using the Torah shield grew out of the practice of contributing Torah scrolls to the synagogue as an act of piety. At some services, two or three Torah scrolls are used for the reading. To avoid confusion, the practice developed of using a tas with interchangeable panels to indicate to which portion the Torah was rolled, corresponding to the Sabbath and holidays. In time, the tas became highly ornamental, and many examples have lost the functional purpose.

Yahrzeit: The anniversary of the day of death. The word comes from the German; it is a term used in Ashkenazi communities. The yahrzeit is commemorated with the kindling of a yahrzeit light on the eve of the anniversary of death according to the Hebrew calendar. The light remains burning until the sunset of the next day. A yahrzeit light is also lit on the eve of holidays, when yizkor, memorial prayers, are recited.

Yarmulke: A skullcap. Also called kipah.

Yom HaSho’ah: Holocaust Remembrance Day. This was instituted in Israel in 1951 to be observed on the 27th of Nisan, the week after Passover. It recalls the horror of Hitler’s systematic destruction of European Jewry. Yom HaSho’ah reminds us of the brutalization and dehumanization, but it also commemorates gevurah, the heroism of dignity in the face of overwhelming odds, spiritual and physical resistance, and the miracle of survival.

Yom Kippur: The Day of Atonement, occurring ten days after the start of the new year. Yom Kippur is the last of ten days of penitence, during which each person stands before divine judgment for the actions of the preceding year.

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Database

ABBREVIATIONS FOR SMITHSONIAN MUSEUMS, LIBRARIES, DEPARTMENTS AND DIVISIONS INCLUDED IN THE JUDAICA DATA-BASE

SI Smithsonian Institution, Washington, D.C.
CH Cooper-Hewitt Museum of Design and Decorative Arts, New York
FREER Freer Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C.

NMAH National Museum of American History, Washington, D.C.

NMAH-AR

Archives Center

NMAH-CL

Division of Community Life

NMAH-CL Ref

Community Life Reference Files NMAH-CO Division of Costumes

NMAH-DL

Division of Domestic Life

NMAH-GR

Division of Graphic Arts

NMAH-LIB

American History Library

NMAH-MI

Division of Musical Instruments

NMAH-PH

Division of Political History

NMAH-RB

Rare Book Room (Dibner Library)

NMAH-TE

Division of Textiles

NMNH National Museum of Natural History, Dept, of Anthropology

NMNH-Arch

Dept, of Archaeology

NMNH-Anth Ar National Anthropological Archives

NMNH-Anth Lib Anthropology Library

REQUIREMENTS FOR SMITHSONIAN SERIES PUBLICATION

Manuscripts intended for series publication receive substantive review (conducted by their originating Smithsonian museums or offices) and are submitted to the Smithsonian Institution Press with Form SI-36, which must show the approval of the appropriate authority designated by the sponsoring organizational unit. Requests for special treatment—use of color, foldouts, case-bound covers, etc.—require, on the same form, the added approval of the sponsoring authority.

Review of manuscripts and art by the Press for requirements of series format and style, completeness and clarity of copy, and arrangement of all material, as outlined below, will govern, within the judgment of the Press, acceptance or rejection of manuscripts and art.

Copy must be prepared on typewriter or word processor, double-spaced, on one side of standard white bond paper (not erasable), with 1¼″ margins, submitted as ribbon copy (not carbon or xerox), in loose sheets (not stapled or bound), and accompanied by original art. Minimum acceptable length is 30 pages.

Front matter (preceding the text) should include: title page with only title and author and no other information, abstract page with author, title, series, etc., following the established format; table of contents with indents reflecting the hierarchy of heads in the paper; also, foreword and/or preface, if appropriate.

First page of text should carry the title and author at the top of the page; second page should have only the author’s name and professional mailing address, to be used as an unnumbered footnote on the first page of printed text.

Center heads of whatever level should be typed with initial caps of major words, with extra space above and below the head, but no other preparation (such as all caps or underline, except for the underline necessary for generic and specific epithets). Run-in paragraph heads should use period/dashes or colons as necessary.

Tabulations within text (lists of data, often in parallel columns) can be typed on the text page where they occur, but they should not contain rules or numbered table captions.

Formal tables (numbered, with captions, boxheads, stubs, rules) should be submitted as carefully typed, double-spaced copy separate from the text; they will be typeset unless otherwise requested. If camera-copy use is anticipated, do not draw rules on manuscript copy.

Taxonomic keys in natural history papers should use the aligned-couplet form for zoology and may use the multi-level indent form for botany. If cross referencing is required between key and text, do not include page references within the key, but number the keyed-out taxa, using the same numbers with their corresponding heads in the text.

Synonymy in zoology must use the short form (taxon, author, year:page), with full reference at the end of the paper under “Literature Cited.” For botany, the long form (taxon, author, abbreviated journal or book title, volume, page, year, with no reference in “Literature Cited”) Is optional.

Text-reference system (author, year:page used within the text, with full citation in “Literature Cited” at the end of the text) must be used in place of bibliographic footnotes in all Contributions Series and is strongly recommended in the Studies Series: “(Jones, 1910:122)” or “. . . Jones (1910:122).” If bibliographic footnotes are required, use the short form (author, brief title, page) with the full citation in the bibliography.

Footnotes, when few in number, whether annotative or bibliographic, should be typed on separate sheets and inserted immediately after the text pages on which the references occur. Extensive notes must be gathered together and placed at the end of the text in a notes section.

Bibliography, depending upon use, Is termed “Literature Cited,” “References,” or “Bibliography.” Spell out titles of books, articles, journals, and monographic series. For book and article titles use sentence-style capitalization according to the rules of the language employed (exception: capitalize all major words in English). For journal and series titles, capitalize the initial word and all subsequent words except articles, conjunctions, and prepositions. Transliterate languages that use a non-Roman alphabet according to the Library of Congress system. Underline (for italics) titles of journals and series and titles of books that are not part of a series. Use the parentheses/colon system for volume (number): pagination: “10(2):5–9.” For alignment and arrangement of elements, follow the format of recent publications in the series for which the manuscript is intended. Guidelines for preparing bibliography may be secured from Series Section, SI Press.

Legends for illustrations must be submitted at the end of the manuscript, with as many legends typed, double-spaced, to a page as convenient.

Illustrations must be submitted as original art (not copies) accompanying, but separate from, the manuscript. Guidelines for preparing art may be secured from Series Section, SI Press. All types of illustrations (photographs, line drawings, maps, etc.) may be intermixed throughout the printed text. They should be termed Figures and should be numbered consecutively as they will appear in the monograph. If several illustrations are treated as components of a single composite figure, they should be designated by lowercase italic letters on the illustration; also, in the legend and in text references the italic letters (underlined in copy) should be used: “Figure 9b.” Illustrations that are intended to follow the printed text may be termed Plates, and any components should be similarly lettered and referenced: “Plate 9b.” Keys to any symbols within an illustration should appear on the art rather than in the legend.

Some points of style: Do not use periods after such abbreviations as “mm, ft, USNM, NNE.” Spell out numbers “one” through “nine” in expository text, but use digits in all other cases if possible. Use of the metric system of measurement is preferable; where use of the English system is unavoidable, supply metric equivalents in parentheses. Use the decimal system for precise measurements and relationships, common fractions for approximations. Use day/month/year sequence for dates: “9 April 1976.” For months in tabular listings or data sections, use three-letter abbreviations with no periods: “Jan, Mar, Jun,” etc. Omit space between initials of a personal name: “J.B. Jones.”

Arrange and paginate sequentially every sheet of manuscript in the following order: (1) title page, (2) abstract, (3) contents, (4) foreword and/or preface, (5) text, (6) appendixes, (7) notes section, (8) glossary, (9) bibliography, (10) legends, (11) tables. Index copy may be submitted at page proof stage, but plans for an index should be indicated when manuscript is submitted.

Notes

[1] Adler wrote of the honor in his autobiography, I Have Considered the Days (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 1941), page 276. This statement is confirmed in an undated report on the Division of Historic Archeology, which indicates that he was designated an associate on 12 October 1908, two days after he left the Smithsonian (Smithsonian Institution Archives, Record Unit 20), Assistant Secretary in Charge of the U.S. National Museum, 1875–1902, Box 16). The date of Adler’s last active involvement is based on his correspondence in the Smithsonian Archives, which ends in the late 1920s. (Hereafter, these archives will be referred to by the acronym SIA. with the record units being referred to as RU.) Adler’s subsequent influence in Washington emerged in interesting and unexpected ways. For example, while chairman of the Army and Navy Section of the Jewish Welfare Board, Adler’s familiarity with the federal art bureaucracy made it possible for him to exert influence on Charles Moore, chairman of the Commission of Fine Arts, so that the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier monument would not include Christian symbolism (National Archives, Adler to Moore, 12 December 1922; decision, Commission of Fine Arts, Minutes, 14 December 1922; Arlington National Cemetery—Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, Box 23, Project File RG66). We are grateful to Héléne Lipstadt for sharing this information with us from her forthcoming study of the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier: “The Body of an American:” The Unknown Soldier, Performance, Spectacle, and Ritual.

[2] My interest in the way in which cultural politics is reflected in methodology dates to my formal introduction to ethnography, in 1974, when I attended a seminar at the Israel Museum taught by Aviva Müller-Lancet. She was good enough to share with me her paper entitled “Exhibition and Ethnic Image,” an evaluation of an exhibition on Jewish life in Morocco, which was prepared for the multinational seminar “The Role of Anthropological Museums in National and International Education,” held in connection with the 1974 International Council of Museums (ICOM) meeting. The exhibit is documented in A. Müller-Lancet, editor. La vie juive au Maroc (Jerusalem: Israel Museum, 1973).

[3] The question of what cultural models are and how cultural politics interacts with them has been the subject of many authors in recent years. Ivan Karp discussed the “political” aspect of museum exhibition in his lecture “Exhibiting Cultures: A Critical Examination of the History of Ethnographic Display,” Getty Center for the History of Art and the Humanities, 5 February 1991, which was part of a series entitled “How Museums Came to Display the History of Art.” Also see Ivan Karp and Steven D. Lavine, editors, Exhibiting Cultures: The Poetics and Politics of Museum Display (Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1991) (I am particularly grateful to Barbara Kirshenblatt-Gimblett, who shared with me a draft of her essay “Objects of Ethnography”) and Ivan Karp, Christine Mullen Kreamer, and Steven D. Lavine, editors. Museums and Communities: The Politics of Public Culture (Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1992). The essays in these volumes were first presented at two conferences held at the Smithsonian in 1988 and 1990 on the presentation and interpretation of cultural diversity in museums. The role of objects in studying past cultures was the topic of another Smithsonian conference held in 1989; the papers were published in Steven Lubar and W. David Kingery, editors. History from Things: Essays on Material Culture (Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1993). For a discussion on the centrality of collections in museums, see Susan M. Pearce, Museums, Objects, and Collections: A Cultural Study (Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1992). Additional books relevant to the subject of cultural politics and cultural models are listed in the bibliography.

[4] This theme is developed by Barbara Kirshenblatt-Gimblett in “Objects of Ethnography,” in Karp and Lavine, Exhibiting Cultures, page 388. She writes, “The artfulness of the ethnographic object is an art of excision, of detachment, an art of the excerpt. Where does the object begin and where does it end? This I see as an essentially surgical issue.”

[5] The concept “objects speak” was developed as a section of the exhibition “Celebration: A World of Art and Ritual,” curated by Victor Turner at the Renwick Gallery of the Smithsonian in 1982. The exhibition was cosponsored by the Smithsonian Institution’s Office of Folklife Programs.

[6] George Brown Goode, “The Museums of the Future,” Annual Report of the United States National Museum, 1888–1889 (Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 1891), page 433.

[7] The important relationship between research and collections was clearly established by an act of Congress in June of 1880, which legislated that the material findings “made by the Coast and Interior Survey, the Geological Survey, or by any other parties for the government of the United States” were to be given to the National Museum and that these “treasures” were to be preserved in perpetuity “to render them of the highest service to research and education.” The act of Congress is cited in George Brown Goode editor, Smithsonian Institution. 1846–1896: The History of the First Half Century (Washington, D.C.: DeVinne, 1897), pages 334–335.

[1] The movement called haskalah, which is The Hebrew term for the enlightenment movement in Judaism, has its roots in the general Enlightenment, but its goals were particular to the Jewish experience. On Mendelssohn and for a general discussion of the Wissenschaft des Judentums movement, see Michael A. Meyer, The Origins of the Modern Jew (Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 1967). A collection of writings pertaining to the Wissenschaft movement is published in Paul R. Mendes-Flohr and Jehuda Reinharz, The Jew in the Modern World: A Documentary History (New York: Oxford University Press, 1980).

[2] The title of Wolf’s essay is “Über den Begriff einer Wissenschaft des Judentums,” Zeitschrift für die Wissenschaft des Judentums, number 1 (1822), pages 1ff. An English translation by Lionel E. Kochan appears in Leo Baeck Institute Year Book, volume 2 (1957), pages 201–203 (reprinted in Mendes-Flohr and Reinharz, The: Jew in the Modern World, pages 194–199). Immanuel Wolf (the pseudonym of Immanuel Wohlwill, 1799–1829), a student of philosophy at the University of Berlin, served as secretary for the Society for the Culture and Science of the Jews from 1821 to 1822.

[3] Leopold Zunz, “Etwas über die Rabbinische Literatur,” Gesammelte Schriften (Berlin, 1875), volume 1, pages 1-31, is cited in the Jewish Encyclopedia, s.v. “Zunz, Leopold.” A translation by A. Schwartz of the article “On Rabbinic Literature” is reprinted in Mendes-Flohr and Reinharz, The Jew in the Modern World, pages 196–204.

[4] The intense interest in examining and illustrating Jewish customs for sectarian purposes can be seen, for example, in Johann Christoph Georg Bodenschatz, Kirchliche Verfassung der heutigen Juden sonderlich in Deutschland (Leipzig, 1748). Barbara Kirshenblatt-Gimblett explores the theme “Theology Sets the Ethnography Agenda” in her essay “Problems in the Early History of Jewish Folkloristics,” Proceedings of the Tenth World Congress of Jewish Studies, division D, volume 2 (Jerusalem: World Union of Jewish Studies, 1990), pages 21ff. I thank Dr. Kirshenblatt-Gimblett for providing me with the text of her paper.

[5] Wolf, cited in Mendes-Flohr and Reinharz, The Jew in the Modern World, pages 194–195.

[6] lbid., page 195.

[7] The term anti-Semitism was coined in Germany in the 1870s to describe and “scientifically” justify anti-Jewish propaganda (Jonathan Sarna, JPS: The Americanization of Jewish Culture, 1888–1988 (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 1989), page 13).

[8] Encyclopedia of Religion, s.v. “Jewish Studies,” subsection “Jewish Studies from 1818 to 1919.”

[9] Gallia Judaica: Dictionnaire géographique de la France après les sources rabbiniques (Paris: L. Cerf, 1897). Reprint. Amsterdam: Simon Schwarzfuchs, 1969. Gallia Judaica became the model for Germania Judaica of the Gesellschaft zur Förderung der Wissenschaft des Judentums (Society for the Promotion of the Science of Judaism), established in 1917.

[10] Barbara C. Gilbert, “Anglo-Jewish Art Collectors of the Victorian Period: Patterns of Collecting” (Ph.D. dissertation, University of Southern California, 1986), pages 172ff. According to Gilbert, as a general trend, the type of art collected by Jews can be viewed as an example of their own acculturation. The dominant factors contributing to collecting and patronage activities were wealth and the desire to elevate their standing in English society. The rising bourgeois class in nineteenth-century England aspired to take on the habits and status of the former gentry class through education, business, and the acquisition of material property.

[11] Barbara Kirshenblatt-Gimblett, “Problems in the Early History of Jewish Folkloristics,” page 29. In this paper, Kirshenblatt-Gimblett traces the development of the discipline of Jewish folklore and analyzes this field in relation to ethnographic and anthropological studies.

[12] lbid., page 30.

[13] Information on early use of the camera for ethnographic study is surveyed in Lucjan Dobroszycki and Barbara Kirshenblatt-Gimblett, Image Before My Eyes: A Photographic History of Jewish Life in Poland, 1863–1939 (New York: Schocken, 1977), pages 13–19. S. An-sky (Shlomo Zainwil Rapoport (1863–1920)) was an author and folklorist best known for his play The Dybbuk. See Rivka Gonen, ed., Back to the Shtetl: An-sky and the Jewish Ethnographic Expedition, 1912–1914 (Jerusalem: Israel Museum, 1994).

[14] Surveys of the history of Jewish museums are found in Universal Jewish Encyclopedia, s.v. “Museums,” and in the Encyclopaedia Judaica, s.v. “Museums.” See also Joseph Gutmann, “Foreword,” in Grace Cohen Grossman, The Maurice Spertus Museum of Judaica: An Illustrated Catalog of Selected Objects (Chicago: Spertus College of Judaica Press, 1974). For an analysis of the development of Jewish museums in Europe, see Richard 1. Cohen, “Self-Image Through Objects: Toward a Social History of Jewish Art Collecting and Jewish Museums,” in Jack Wertheimer, ed., The Uses of Tradition (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1993), pages 203–242. Grossman has summarized some of the history of collections of Jewish art in the introduction to her book Jewish Art (Southport, CT: Hugh Levin Lauter Associates, 1995), pages 7-17.

[15] Encyclopaedia Judaica, s.v. “Oppenheim, Moritz Daniel.” See also Elisheva Cohen, “Moritz Daniel Oppenheim,” Bulletin des Leo Baeck Instituts, volume 16–17 (1977–1978), pages 42–74; Elisheva Cohen, “Moritz Oppenheim, ‘The First Jewish Painter,’” Israel Museum News, volume 14 (1978), pages 86–93; E. Cohen, “Moritz Daniel Oppenheim: His Life and Art,” in Elisheva Cohen, ed., Moritz Oppenheim: The First Jewish Painter (Jerusalem: Israel Museum, 1983), pages 7-29.

[16] Oppenheim’s work is analyzed from this perspective in Ismar Schorsch, “Art as Social History: Oppenheim and the German Jewish Vision of Emancipation,” in Cohen, Moritz Oppenheim: The First Jewish Painter, pages 31–61. This theme, as demonstrated in both art and literature, is surveyed in Richard 1. Cohen, “Nostalgia and ‘Return to the Ghetto’: A Cultural Phenomenon in Western and Central Europe,” in Jonathan Frankel and Steven J. Zipperstein, eds., Assimilation and Community: The Jews in Nineteenth-century Europe (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992). The differences in approach of Moritz Oppenheim and Alphonse Levy are explored in Norman L. Kleeblatt, “Illustrating Jewish Lifestyles on Opposite Banks of the Rhine: Alphonse Lèvy’s Alsatian Peasants and Moritz Daniel Oppenheim’s Frankfurt Burghers,” Jewish Art, volume 16/17 (1990–1991), pages 53–63. See also the comparison by Alfred Werner, “Oppenheim and Kaufmann: Fine Genre Painters,” in Families and Feasts: Paintings by Oppenhttm and Kaufmann (New York: Yeshiva University Museum, 1977).

[17] Schorsch, “Art as Social History,” page 38. Rome’s Jewish community was confined to a ghetto by a papal bull in 1555; Jews were not liberated from ghetto life until 1870.

[18] The painting is in the collection of the Jewish Museum in New York. See Norman L. Kleeblatt and Vivian B. Mann, Treasures of the Jewish Museum (New York: Universe Books, 1986), page 148.

[19] Cohen, “Moritz Daniel Oppenheim: His Life and Art,” page 27. discussed the possible political intent of this painting.

[20] Through Gabriel Riesser (1806–1863), Oppenheim met with many personalities of the German Jewish Reform movement and obtained commissions from them. In addition to portraits, Oppenheim also painted a series of paintings reflecting the confrontation of Jews with modernity. For example, in 1856 he painted “Lavater and Lessing Visit Moses Mendelssohn,” which was a portrayal of the challenge to Mendelssohn (1729–1786) by Johann Caspar Lavater (1741–1801), a Swiss clergyman and expert on physiognomy, to convert to Christianity. Gotthold Ephraim Lessing, dramatist, critic, and author of Nathan the Wise, which rejected the possibility that any religion represented absolute truth, stood by Mendelssohn and urged his friend not to succumb. The painting is in the collection of the Judah L. Magnes Memorial Museum in Berkeley, California. For the catalog entry and illustration, see Cohen, Moritz Oppenheim: The First Jewish Painter, page 20 (Hebrew section).

[21] This quote is from Gabriel Riesser’s Gesammelte Schriften. volume 4, page 719, and is cited in Schorsch, “Art as Social History,” page 39, note 39.

[22] Schorsch, “Art as Social History,” pages 39ff.

[23] When published in an English edition, the title of this series of paintings appeared as “Family Scenes from Jewish Life of Former Days.” Graphics of the Oppenheim “Bilder” series were among the first items acquired by the Smithsonian (NMAH 154569, gift of Simon Dalsheimer, 1892), and they were displayed as contextual material at the World’s Columbian Exposition (Board of Control and Management, World’s Columbian Exposition, Official Catalogue, United States Government Building, Part XVI (Chicago: W.B. Conkley, 1893), page 142). The introduction to the exhibition on religious ceremonials indicates that “special regard” was given to the ceremonies, as these form “the starting point for a comparative study of religions.” Adler selected this sentimental portrayal to characterize Jewish celebration.

[24] Cohen, Moritz Oppenheim: The First Jewish Painter, page 27.

[25] Schorsch, “Art as Social History,” page 31.

[26] lbid., page 51.

[27] This observation was made by Alain Erlande-Grandenburg in his introduction to the catalog of the Cluny collection, “Les collections d’objets de culte juif du Muséc de Cluny,” in Victor Klagsbald, Catalogue raisonné de la collection juive du Musée de Cluny (Paris: Editions de la Réunion des musées nationaux, 1981), page 8. On "nostalgic yearning for a vanishing Jewish world,” see also Cohen, “Self-Image Through Objects,” pages 212ff.

[28] M. Straus, Description des objets religieux hébraïques exposés dans les galeries du Trocadéro à I’Exposition Universelle de 1878 (Poissy, 1878). The earliest known collection of Jewish ceremonial objects was formed in the eighteenth century by Alexander David (1687–1765), a court Jew in Brunswick. His collection was later displayed in his synagogue (Cecil Roth, "Introduction,” in R.D. Barnett, ed.. Catalogue of the Permanent and Loan Collections of the Jewish Museum, London (London: Harvey Miller, 1974), page xiii).

[29] This point is made in Cohen, “Self-Image Through Objects,” page 213.

[30] The Strauss Collection was loaned for an exhibition organized by Stephen Kayser at the Jewish Museum in New York in the 1950s and was exhibited in Paris and Jerusalem in 1981. It was at that time that Victor Klagsbald prepared a catalogue raisonné of the collection. Selected objects from the Strauss Collection were also lent to major exhibitions in Germany: “Synagoga” (Recklinghausen) in 1961, “Monumenta Judaica” (Cologne) in 1964, and “Jüdische U:benswelten” (Berlin) in 1991.

[31] Founded in New York City in 1843, B’nai B’rith is the oldest Jewish fraternal organization in the United States. It was begun as a mutual aid society, social service agency, and philanthropic organization to unite all “Israelites” regardless of their “dogma and ceremonial custom.” In 1885, the first of the European B’nai B’rith Lodges was estabished in Germany, and eventually membership grew to lodges in 45 countries. Menorah Monthly, published by B’nai B’rith, was first issued in 1886. See Jewish Encyclopedia, s.v. “B’nai B’rith, or Sons of Covenant,” and Encyclopaedia Judaica, s.v. “B’nai B’rith.”

[32] Jewish Encyclopedia, s.v. “Wolf, Simon,” and Encyclopaedia Judaica, s.v. “Wolf, Simon.” A necrology for Wolf by M.J. Kohler appeared in Publications of the American Jewish Historical Society, volume 29 (1925), pages 198–206, and was reprinted in Selected Addresses and Papers of Simon Wolf: A Memorial Volume, Together with a Biographical Sketch (Cincinnati: Union of American Hebrew Congregations, 1926).

[33] The Board of Delegates of American Israelites, founded in 1859, was the first national organization of Jewish congregations in the United States. Its primary purpose was anti-defamation. In 1878 the Board merged with the Union of American Hebrew Congregations (UAHC), although its own board, which had changed its name to the Board of Delegates of Civil and Religious Rights, functioned independently within the UAHC until 1925. See Encyclopaedia Judaica, s.v. “Board of Delegates of American Israelites.”

[34] Wolf, Selected Addresses, pages 277–280.

[35] Letter dated 8 October 1906, sent from Ezekiel to Wolf on the occasion of his 70th birthday (Wolf, Selected Addresses, page 279).

[36] Joseph Gutmann and Stanley F. Chyet, eds., Moses Jacob Ezekiel: Memoirs from the Baths of Diocletian (Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 1975), page 164. It is not clear whether Ezekiel was contacted in 1873 or 1874. It is certainly possible that the proposal for the sculpture commission was already a fait accompli when it was presented at the B’nai B’rith convention.

[37] Ibid., page 168. As indicated by Gutmann and Chyet, the claim of his lineage is unsubstantiated.

[38] J. S. Ingram, The Centennial Exposition Described and Illustrated (Philadelphia: Hubbard Bros., 1876), page 711 (cited in National Museum of American Jewish History, Ezekiel’s Vision: Moses Jacob Ezekiel and the Classical Tradition (Philadelphia NMAJH, 1985), pages 16–17).

[39] Gutmann and Chyet, Moses Jacob Ezekiel, page 21. Among Ezekiel’s many sculptures of historical figures was a commission for the World’s Columbian Exposition. In this instance, he had the honor of sculpting the bronze statue of Christopher Columbus, which was sited in a prominent position above the doorway of the Columbus Memorial building (ibid., pages 44–45). The statue was later placed in Vernon Park in Chicago (ibid., page 71).

[40] The sculpture was relocated in 1985 to the grounds of the National Museum of American Jewish History.

[41] Letter dated 26 June 1876 (cited in Wolf, Selected Addresses, page 278).

[42] Letter dated 28 June 1876 (cited in Wolf, Selected Addresses, page 278). Grant’s message demonstrates that he was still trying to live down his General Order 11 of 1862.

[43] Lucien Wolf, “Origin of the Jewish Historical Society of England,” Transactions of the Jewish Historical Society of England, volume 7 (1911–1914), pages 211–212. Lucien Wolf (1857–1930) was an Anglo-Jewish historian and publicist. Alfred A. Newman (1851–1887) was a collector of Anglo-Jewish books, pamphlets, and portraits. He died shortly before the exhibition opened, but his collection was on display. The portraits and prints from the Newman Collection are numbers 1121 a—1250 in Joseph Jacobs and Lucien Wolf, Catalogue of the Anglo-Jewish Historical Exhibition, 1887, Royal Albert Hall (London: Office of the Jewish Chronicle, 1888).

[44] Built in 1700–1701, the Spanish and Portuguese Synagogue was built in a style resembling the English Protestant meeting houses of the time.

[45] Jacobs and Wolf, Catalogue of the Anglo-Jewish Historical Exhibition, page vii.

[46] The Israel Solomons Manuscript Collection (1601–1918), Box 2, Folder 2, Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion, Klau Library, Cincinnati, Ohio (cited in Gilbert, “Anglo-Jewish Art Collectors,” page 213). Part of the Israel Solomons Collection is also at the Jewish Theological Seminary in New York.

[47] Reuben Sassoon was one of the eight sons of David Sassoon, who established a business of international scope in Bombay and was a great philanthropist. Reuben Sassoon, who lived in London, was not much involved in the family’s business. He became prominent in the court circle of Edward VII and was a traveling companion of the Prince of Wales (Encyclopaedia Judaica, s.v. “Sassoon”).

[48] Barnett, Catalogue of the Jewish Museum, London, page xiii.

[49] Jewish Chronicle (London), I April 1887, page 12.

[50] Jewish Chronicle (London), 8 April 1887, pages 9-10.

[51] Hermann Adler (born in Hanover in 1839: died in London in 1911) served as the chief rabbi of the United Hebrew Congregations of the British Empire. He served at Bayswater from 1864 while continuing his affiliation with Jews College (Universal Jewish Encyclopedia, s.v. “Adler, Hermann).

[52] Hermann Adler, “The Anglo-Jewish Historical Exhibition: A Discourse Preached at the Bayswater Synagogue by the Rev. Dr. H. Adler, on the Seventh Day of Passover, 5647 (April 15, 1887),” Jewish Chronicle, 22 April 1887, page 9.

[53] Ibid.

[54] The story is recounted in Cohen, “Self-Image Through Objects,” page 229.

[55] Cohen, “Self-Image Through Objects,” page 230, notes the collection in the Hamburg Museum für Kunst und Gewerbe and the acquisition of Jewish artifacts from Alsace-Lorraine in the Strasbourg Museum. “

[56] The Baron Carl von Rothschild Public Library was established in the Rothschild Palais in 1894 by Hannah Louise von Rothschild. See Georg Heuberger, “A New Start in an Old Tradition: The Aims and Composition of the Jewish Museum in Frankfurt am Main,” in Jüdisches Museum Frankfurt am Main (Frankfurt am Main: Jüdisches Museum, 1988), pages 22–27.

[57] Kirschstein’s description is cited in Joseph Gutmann, “The Kirschstein Museum of Berlin,” Jewish Art, volume 16/17 (1990–1991), pages 172–176.

[58] H. Simon, Das Berliner Jüdische Museum in der Oranienburgerstrasse: Geschichte einer zerstörten Kulturstätte (Berlin: Berlin Jewish Museum, 1988), pages 13–14 (cited in Gutmann, “The Kirschstein Museum,” page 176).

[59] The history of the Prague museum is discussed in Linda A. Altshuler and Anna R. Cohn, “The Precious Legacy,” in David Altshuler, ed., The Precious Legacy (New York: Summit Books, 1983), pages 19ff.

[60] Elizabeth Cats, “Lesser Gieldzinski,” in Vivian Mann. ed., Danzig 1939: Treasures of a Destroyed Jewish Community (New York: Jewish Museum, 1980), pages 43–45.

[61] Joy Ungerleider-Mayerson, “Preface,” in Vivian Mann, ed., Danzig 1939: Treasures of a Destroyed Jewish Community (New York: Jewish Museum, 1980), page 9.

[62] Cited in A. Werner, “Boris Schatz: Father of an Israeli Art,” Herzl Yearbook, volume 7 (1971), page 404.

[63] The history of Bezalel is discussed in Gideon Ofrat-Friedlander, “The Periods of Bezalel: The ‘Founding Years’ (1903–1907),” in Nurit Shilo-Cohen, ed., Bezalel, 1906–1929, translated by E. Cohen (Jerusalem: Isiael Museum, 1983), pages 31–54.

[64] Adler first traveled to Europe and the Near East in 1890–1991 on behalf of the World’s Columbian Exposition. In 1894 and 1898, Adler accompanied Secretary Samuel Langley on trips to Europe, As described by Naomi W. Cohen, he "seized the opportunity to meet with European intellectuals and sow the seeds for lasting friendship” (Naomi W. Cohen, “Introduction,” in Ira Robinson, ed., Cyrus Adler: Selected Letters (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 1985), volume 1, page xxvii). Cohen also cites Adler’s admiration for what he termed a “cultural renascence” in England and his call in 1894 for similar efforts in America. See also Adler’s “A Jewish Renaissance,” American Hebrew, volume 56 (1894), page 25.

[65] “Because of his emphasis on ritual practice, Adler’s focus did not parallel the efforts of the organizers of the Anglo-Jewish Historical Exhibition to use the historical record in order to demonstrate Jewish allegiance to England. The American Jewish Historical Society, which Adler was instrumental in founding in 1892, would address the “patriotic” issues through its collections.

[66] N.W. Cohen, “Introduction,” page xxviii.

[67] It is possible that Cyrus Adler’s work had an impact on the developments in Europe Documents in the Smithsonian Institution Archives record that copies of United States National Museum publications were sent by the Smithsonian to Max Grünwald (memorandum dated 21 February 1898) and to the Gesellschaft für Sammlung und Konservierung von Kunst und historischen Denkmälern des Judentums in Vienna (memorandum dated 5 July 1899). The Order for Publications indicates that it covered both publications on Oriental antiquities already issued and future publications relating to this subject (SIA, RU 201, Box 20, Folder 14). Adler also received copies of Grünwald’s Mitteilungen der Besellschaft für jüdische Volkskunde, two issues of which, dated 1898 and 1899, remained in the Judaica Reference Files and have now been transferred to the Dibner Library at the National Museum of American History.

[1] The early history of the Smithsonian is detailed in a number of sources, the primary source being the official 50th-anniversary volume. See Goode, Smithsonian Institution, 1846–1896: The History of the First Half Century. Among other sources, the early ideological struggles are discussed in Wilcomb E. Washburn, “Joseph Henry’s Conception of the Purpose of the Smithsonian Institution,” in Whitfield J. Bell, Jr., et al., A Cabinet of Curiosities: Five Episodes in the Evolution of American Museums (Charlottesville: University Press of Virginia, 1967), pages 106–166. An analysis of the Smithsonian Institution in the context of other American museums is found in Joel J. Orosz, Curators and Culture: The Museum Movement in America, 1740–1870 (Tuscaloosa: University of Alabama Press, 1990).

[2] Washburn, “Joseph Henry’s Conception of the Purpose of the Smithsonian Institution,” page 107.

[3] lbid., page 117.

[4] Quoted from a letter to Alexander Dallas Bache, a friend of Henry’s and a Smithsonian regent, in Washburn, “Joseph Henry’s Conception of the Purpose of the Smithsonian Institution,” page 109.

[5] lbid., page 108.

[6] From Joseph Henry’s Annual Report for 1853, page 229 (cited in Washburn, “Joseph Henry’s Conception of the Purpose of the Smithsonian Institution,” page 133).

[7] Washburn, “Joseph Henry’s Conception of the Purpose of the Smithsonian Institution, pages 146–147.

[8] In his chapter “The American Compromise, 1850–1870: The Synthesis of Popular Education and Professionalism,” Orosz details what was to become the characteristic cultural model for museums in the United States and discusses the Smithsonian Institution as a prime example of this methodology (Orosz, Curators and Culture, pages 201–212).

[9] The expositions brought together examples of cultures from around the world, thus both introducing European (and later American) audiences to and reinforcing the notion of the supremacy of “advanced” peoples.

[10] Joseph Henry’s Annual Report for 1865, page 60 (cited in Orosz, Curators and Culture, page 209).

[11] Curtis M. Hinsley, Jr., Savages and Scientists: The Smithsonian Institution and the Development of American Anthropology, 1846–1910 (Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1981), page 262,

[12] Cited in Washburn, “Joseph Henry’s Conception of the Purpose of the Smithsonian Institution,” pages 143–144.

[13] E.F, Rivinus and E.M. Youssef, Spencer Baird of the Smithsonian (Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1992), pages 130–131.

[14] This theme is explored, for example, in the 1979 Brooklyn Museum exhibition The American Renaissance: 1876–1917.

[15] Sally Gregory Kohlstedt, “History in a Natural History Museum: George Brown Goode and the Smithsonian Institution,” The Public Historian, volume 10, number 2 (spring 1988), pages 7-26. See also Hinsley, Savages and Scientists, pages 92–94. A chapter is devoted to Goode in Edward P. Alexander, Museum Masters: Their Museums and Their Influence (Nashville. American Association for State and Local History, 1983), pages 282–309.

[16] Alexander. Museum Masters, page 8. Joseph Henry, of course, saw this very differently. He considered the new acquisitions as creating a crisis for the Smithsonian and as an indication of why the United States National Museum and the Smithsonian Institution should become two separate entities (Washburn, “Joseph Henry’s Conception of the Purpose of the Smithsonian Institution,” page 144).

[17] The Act of June 30, 1880 of the Statutes, United States Forty-Fifth Congress, third session, chapter 182, page 394 (cited in Goode, The Smithsonian Institution, page 334).

[18] Goode, The Smithsonian Institution, page 335.

[19] Goode, The Smithsonian Institution, page 330. Twenty-five years later, European museums were still seen as important models for the Smithsonian. As plans were underway for the new museum building, William Henry Holmes conducted a very thorough survey of European museums. Holmes visited 53 museums and extensively documented his findings as to exhibition spaces, the construction and 3rouping of cases, the interior arrangement of artifacts in the cases, and lighting. Holmes made drawings, included vintage postcards of museum installations, and even included a sample of wall covering from the Kaiser Friedrich Museum in Berlin with the report. In addition to the technical information, Holmes included a lengthy list of objects of which casts might be obtained in exchange. A report on the museum of Leiden, Holland, was prepared by S. Miller, Jr. See SIA, RU 55, Box 15, “Report of Studies of European Museums, 1904 William Henry Holmes.”

[20] Orosz surveys the early history of museums in America in Curators and Culture. See also: W.T. Alderson, ed., Mermaids, Mummies and Mastodons: The Emergence of the American Museum (Washington, D.C.: American Association of Museums, 1992); W.J. Bell, Jr., et al., A Cabinet of Curiosities: Five Episodes in the Evolution of American Museums (Charlottesville: University Press of Virginia, 1967); and Warren Leon and Roy Rosenzweig, eds., History Museums in the United States: A Critical Assessment (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1989).

[21] Goode, cited in Orosz, Curators and Culture, page 241. In his prologue, Orosz makes the point that, ironically, two very different critiques have been expressed about the early efforts to establish museums in America: they were seen either as popular “sideshows” or as elitist enclaves. According to Orosz, the historical record demonstrates that these museums, most of which were owned by single proprietors, were neither. What is significant is the pervading concept of the role of museums. The founders of these early museums had a common goal: They viewed their collections and installations as being cultural centers. The cultural model they developed was shaped by their cultural politics—the perceived need for the intellectual and moral improvement of the visiting public. Moreover, they were developed “by Americans, in response to American cultural needs, and developed according to the imperatives of the changing American culture” (Orosz, Curators and Culture, page 9).

[22] Goode’s detailed description of the museum as an educational institution is summarized in his Report of the Assistant Director of the United States National Museum for the Year 1881 (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Government Printing Office, 1882), pages 81–98.

[23] lbid., page 81. For a history of the development of the philosophy of the Smithsonian, see the chapter “The American Compromise, 1850–1870: The Synthesis of Popular Education and Professionalism,” in Orosz, Curators and Culture, pages 180–237.

[24] Neil Harris, “A Century of Debate,” J. Paul Getty Trust Bulletin, volume 5, number 2 (spring/summer 1990), page 3.

[25] Goode, “The Museums of the Future,” page 427.

[26] lbid., pages 433ff.

[27] Goode categorized religion under the rubric “intellectual occupation of man.” It is clear, simply by virtue of the placement of religion in Goode’s classification scheme, that the presentation of religion too was to be made through a scientific approach.

[28] Goode, Smithsonian Institution, page 335.

[29] A necrology for Otis Tufton Mason was published in the American Anthropologist, volume 10, number 4 (October-December 1908), and can be found in SIA, RU 7098, “Biographical Information File,” Box 12. See also Hinsley, Savages and Scientists, pages 84–91.

[30] T.D.A. Cockerell, “Spencer Fullerton Baird,” Popular Science Monthly, volume 68 (1906), pages 79–80 (cited in Hinsley, Savages and Scientists, page 85, and in Rivinus and Youssef, Spencer Baird of the Smithsonian, page 188).

[31] Otis T. Mason, “What Is Anthropology?” (Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Saturday Lectures, 1883), page 5 (cited in Hinsley, Savages and Scientists, page 84). In a similar vein, in a letter to the editor of the Jewish Messenger dated 4 March 1894, Cyrus Adler wrote on his approach to historical Judaism in the modern world, “The true prophet has ever been the one who saw the future through the light of the past” (cited in Robinson, Cyrus Adler: Selected Letters, volume 1, page 62).

[32] United States National Museum Annual Report for 1884, page 54 (cited in Hinsley, Savages and Scientists, page 94).

[33] Hinsley, Savages and Scientists, page 92.

[34] O.T. Mason, “Culture History,” manuscript in the National Anthropology Archives, unnumbered (cited in Hinsley, Savages and Scientists, page 89).

[35] O.T. Mason, “Culture History” (cited in Hinsley, Savages and Scientists, page 91).

[36] Hinsley, Savages and Scientists, page 84.

[37] Hinsley, Savages and Scientists, page 87. Mason wrote an article on the influence of Klemm’s theory, “The Educational Aspect of the United States National Museum,” Johns Hopkins University Studies in Historical and Political Science (1890), pages 505–519 (cited in Hinsley, Savages and Scientists, page 119, note 33).

[38] A different cultural model was expressed by Franz Boas. Whereas Mason stressed system and unity, Boas was already projecting an approach that emphasized cultural relativism and pluralism (Hinsley, Savages and Scientists, page 100).

[39] Kohlstedt, “History in a Natural History Museum,” pages 13–14.

[40] Mason’s reports of his trip are found in SIA, “Letters from Europe. Written by O.T. Mason to Dr Goode and the Mason Family, July 17-October 7 1889” (cited in Hinsley, Savages and Scientists, page 109), and SIA, RU 158, “Curator’s Annual Reports,” Box 3.

[41] Hinsley, Savages and Scientists, page 100.

[42] Cyrus Adler and I.M. Casanowicz, “The Collection of Jewish Ceremonial Objects in the United States National Museum,” Proceedings of the United States National Museum, volume 34, number 1630 (1908), pages 701–746.

[43] Cyrus Adler, “Museum Collections to Illustrate Religious History and Ceremonials,” United States National Museum Annual Report for 1892–1893 (Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office), page 761.

[44] A necrology of Samuel Pierpont Langley was written by Cyrus Adler. It was read before the Philosophical Society of Washington on 24 November 1906 and published in the Bulletin of the society (volume 15, pages 1-26). It is reprinted in Cyrus Adler, Lectures. Selected Papers, 4ddresses by Cyrus Adler (Philadelphia, 1933), pages 1-26. This volume was compiled by Adler’s colleagues in honor of his seventieth birthday. Grossman is grateful to Cyrus Adler’s daughter, Sally Adler Wolfinsohn, for the loan of her personal copy.

[45] Rivinus and Youssef, Spencer Baird of the Smithsonian, page 181.

[46] SIA, RU 31,’’Office of the Secretary, 1891–1906, Incoming Correspondence.”

[47] Interview with Sally Adler Wolfinsohn, December 1991. The close relationship between Langley and Adler was described by his daughter. Mrs. Wolfinsohn quipped that it was in this way that her father learned to ask for money, something he continued throughout his entire career. But those political contacts were also important to him for lobbying for the interests and needs of the Jewish community in the United States and abroad. Adler’s interest in politics is also reflected in his article, “Jews in the Diplomatic Correspondence of the United States,” Publications of the American Jewish Historical Society, volume 15 (1906) pages 1-117.

[48] Bell: SIA, RU 31, Box 3; Olmsted: SIA, RU 31, Box 3, Folder 4; Franklin: SIA, RU 55, “Assistant Secretary in Charge of the Museum (Richard Rathbun), 1897–1918,” Box 1, Folder 2; BAE: SIA, RU 31, Box 3 (cited in Hinsley, Savages and Scientists, pages 265 ff.); seal: undated memorandum, SIA, RU 31, Box 3, Folder 4; Freer: SIA, RU 31, and RU 55, Box 1. Folder 5.

[49] Adler’s terms are outlined in a letter to Adolphus Simeon Solomons, who was the acting president of the Jewish Theological Seminary Board of Trustees (cited in Robinson, Cyrus Adler: Selected Letters, volume 1, page 87).

[50] Letters from Adler dated 18 June 1901 and 8 January 1902 regarding his proposal plan are in SIA, RU 31, Box 3. The January letter is also cited in Robinson, Cyrus Adler: Selected Letters, volume 1, pages 96–99.

[51] According to Adler’s daughter, it was her father’s sense of his diminished position in the new administration that was the motivation for him to leave the Smithsonian.

[52] Robinson, Cyrus Adler: Selected Letters, volume 1, page 145. On 1 October 1908 Adler wrote to Secretary Charles D. Walcott to notify him formally that his impending duties in Philadelphia would necessitate his leaving the Smithsonian. Walcott, a geologist, was formerly the director of the U.S. Geological Survey and had succeeded Goode as director of the United States National Museum in 1897.

[1] David Sulzberger was born in Heidelshcim, Baden, Germany, in 1838 and died in Philadelphia in 1910. Sulzberger devoted much time to Jewish communal needs, including serving as secretary of the Hebrew Educational Society for 34 years. He was also a founder of the American Jewish Historical Society (Universal Jewish Encyclopedia, s.v. “Sulzberger").

[2] N.W Cohen, “Introduction,” page xxvi.

[3] Sabato Morais (1823–1897) was born in Livorno, Italy. In 1846 he became assistant hazzan (clergyman) at the Bevis Marks Congregation in London. Morais came to the United States in 1851, assuming the position of hazzan in Philadelphia at Mikveh Israel, where he was to serve for 47 years Morais was instrumental in the establishment of the Jewish Theological Seminary in New York in 1887 and was president of the faculty until his death (Encyclopaedia Judaica, s.v. “Morais, Sabato”).

[4] Adler’s early history is excerpted from Abraham A. Neuman, Cyrus Adler: A Biographical Sketch,” American Jewish Year Book, volume 43 (1941–1942), pages 23–28.

[5] Samuel Hirsch (1815–1889) was a pioneer of the Jewish Reform movement in Germany and the United States and of the Wissenschaft des Judentums movement. He served in Dessau (1839–1841) and then as chief rabbi of the Grand Duchy of Luxembourg (1843–1866) before emigrating to the United States. Hirsch led Congregation Kenesseth Israel in Philadelphia until 1888. During the last year of his life, he lived in Chicago with his son Rabbi Emil G. Hirsch (1851–1923), a leading figure in the radical wing of the Reform movement (Encyclopaedia Judaica, s.v. “Hirsch, Samuel” and “Hirsch, Emil”). Marcus M. Jastrow (1829–1903) was a rabbi and lexicographer who became a leader of the historical school in the United States, which developed into Conservative Judaism. Jastrow served as rabbi in Warsaw and Worms before emigrating in 1866 to the United States, where he served as rabbi of Congregation Rodeph Shalom until 1892. He also taught Jewish philosophy, history, and Bible at Maimonides College from 1867 until it closed in 1875. Although Jastrow was willing to introduce some reforms into the synagogue, he was against the radical Reform movement and opposed the formation of the Union of American Hebrew Congregations and the Hebrew Union College. His son, Morris Jastrow (1861–1922), became an Orientalist scholar (Encyclopaedia Judaica, s.v. “Jastrow”).

[6] Mayer Sulzberger (1843–1923), a prominent Philadelphia lawyer and jurist, was active in numerous Jewish causes. Among his philanthropic acts was a major donation of Hebrew books and manuscripts to the Jewish Theological Seminary, including the founding presentation of 25 objects (S501–9526, Registrar’s Card Files., Jewish Museum), which he hoped would encourage the seminary to form a museum (Alexander Marx, “The Library,” in Cyrus Adler, ed., The Jewish Theological Seminary of America: Semi-Centennial Volume (New York: Jewish Theological Seminary, 1939), pages 89–92).

[7] “The History of the Semitics Seminary of Johns Hopkins University,” in Adler, Lectures, page 166.

[8] Adler was not a full-time faculty member at Hopkins, and for fifteen months he was abroad working on behalf of the World’s Columbian Exposition (Ira Robinson, “Cyrus Adler and the Jewish Theological Seminary of America: Image and Reality,” American Jewish History, volume 78 (1989), page 367).

[9] According to Louis Finkelstein, Adler indicated in a private conversation that he viewed his decision to accept the appointment at the Smithsonian as a deliberate change of his life’s plan. He said he made the choice because he felt he could better serve American and world Jewry not as a biblical scholar but as a builder of institutions that would develop many scholars (Louis Finkelstein, “Preface,” in Robinson, Cyrus Adler: Selected Letters, volume 1, page xix).

[10] lbid., page xviii. Whether this specific story is true or not, the fact is that at that time the secretariat of the Smithsonian was a cabinet-level position. By virtue of his work for Langley, Adler served in a very influential post. Another meeting with the President is recorded in Robinson, Cyrus Adler: Selected Letters, volume 1, pages 146–147. In a letter to his wife, Racie Adler, dated 15 October 1908, Adler wrote that when he went to see the President, “having no appointment, 1 had to wait for half an hour but when I got in he gave me quite a lot of time.”

[11] Naomi W. Cohen, “American Jewish Reactions to Anti-Semitism in Western Europe, 1875–1900,” Proceedings of the American Academy for Jewish Research, volume 45 (1978), pages 29–65, assesses the situation in Europe from the American perspective.

[12] On 15 April 1881 a pogrom broke out in Elizavetgrad, Russia, raging for several days before armed forces finally intervened. Subsequently over two hundred Jewish communities were attacked and ravaged in the Ukraine, White Russia, and Bessarabia.

[13] An annotated listing of major sources on anti-Semitism in America during this period is found in Naomi W. Cohen’s article “Anti-Semitism in the Gilded Age: The Jewish View,” Jewish Social Studies, volume 41 (1979), page 205. For a fuller discussion on issues related to Jewish-Christian relations in the postbellum era, see N.W. Cohen, Jews in Christian America: The Pursuit of Religious Equality (New York: Oxford University Press, 1992), pages 67–92.

[14] N.W. Cohen, Jews in Christian America, page 67. Philip Cowen, editor of American Hebrew, took the unusual step of soliciting a large number of prominent Christian academics, clergy, journalists, and politicians to express their views on prejudice against the Jews in order to facilitate a rapprochement between Jews and Gentiles. The answers were first published in American Hebrew in April 1890 and later as a separate volume, Prejudice Against the Jew: Its Nature, Its Causes and Remedies (New York: Philip Cowen, 1928).

[15] John Higham discusses three groups that “harbored anti-Jewish feelings that went beyond mere social discrimination”: some agrarian radicals involved in the Populist movement, certain patrician intellectuals on the East Coast, and many of the poor living in urban centers. See John Higham, “Anti-Semitism in the Gilded Age: A Reinterpretation,” Mississippi Valley Historical Review, 43 (1957), page- 572–575.

[16] N.W. Cohen, “Anti-Semitism in the Gilded Age,” pages 195ff. Though the immigrants were a very visihle target especially because of their physical appearance, heavily accented speech, and concentration in poor areas, the acculturated Jew was a scapegoat as well because of the money-power problem. For example, Cohen recounts the famous story of banker Jesse Seligman being excluded from the Grand Union Hotel in Saratoga in 1877 (page 188). It was not unusual for advertisements for work or for apartments to indicate “Christians only” or “no Hebrews.” Jews, as well as other disdained ethnic groups, were satirized in music, vaudeville, and the print media. For examples of caricatures, see J. and S. Appel, Jews in American Graphic, Satire, and Humor (Cincinnati: American Jewish Archives, 1984). For a discussion of anti-Semitism in popular literature, see “From Reconstruction to 1900,” part four of L. Harap, The Image of the Jew in American Literature: From Early Republic to Mass Immigration (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 1974).

[17] N.W. Cohen, “Anti-Semitism in the Gilded Age,” page 204. Yet, as Cohen points out, self-improvement and patriotism were never enough, and Jews failed to recognize or ignored other variables that had an impact on anti-Semitism. See also Cohen, “American Jewish Reactions to Anti-Semitism,” pages 37–40, for a discussion of other causes of anti-Semitism: religious prejudice, envy of Jews’ material success and prominence, political motives, and nationalist and antiforeign sentiments. She points out that American Jews were reluctant to acknowledge race and religion as a component.

[18] An analysis of Adler’s relationship to the “stewards” is developed in Cohen, “Introduction,” page xxxii.

[19] lbid.

[20] N.W. Cohen, “Introduction,” pages xxviii-xxx. Adler pursued cultural activities on three levels training of Jewish scholars; educating rabbis and teachers; and fostering community education (Naomi W. Cohen, Encounter With Emancipation: The German Jews in the United States, 1830–1914 (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 1984), pages 203–210).

[21] The details of Adler’s involvement in Jewish organizations are to be found in numerous sources. An excellent survey of Adler’s involvement is in Jonathan D. Sarna, “Cyrus Adler and the Development of American Jewish Culture: The ‘Scholar-Doer’ as a Jewish Communal Leader,” American Jewish History, volume 78 (1989), pages 382–394. In exploring the themes of Adler’s involvement in the Americanization and professionalization of American Jewish scholarship, Sarna demonstrates that Adler was involved in practically every American Jewish cultural project during the half century between 1888 and 1938.

[22] Adler wrote to Secretary Langley on 18 June 1901, apprising him of the fact that the negotiations in New York, about which he had previously informed him, were about to be concluded. He asked for a decision to be made about his dividing his time, “to which plan I understand I have your assent.” Adler adds a recommendation that Paul Brockett be named assistant librarian and take over some of his duties (SIA, RU 31, Box 3, “Office of the Secretary, 1891 -1906 Incoming Correspondence”). Adler wrote to Langley again on 8 January 1902 to try to finalize his plans and Brackett’s appointment (SIA, ibid., and quoted in Robinson, Cyrus Adler: Selected Letters, volume 1, pages 96–97).

[23] Naomi W. Cohen, Not Free to Desist: The American Jewish Committee, 1906–1966 (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 1972), pages 8-9.

[24] This latitude was apparently not that unusual among the inner circle at the Smithsonian. G. Brown Goode, for example, had few consultants in science or history while he was developing a Lew Department of Arts and Industries, which was to emphasize “human enterprise in the context of the natural environment as well at political and economic events” (Kohlstedt, “History in a Natural History Museum,” pages 23–24).

[25] Excerpted from a letter from Adler to Jacob H. Schiff, 7 April 1912 (cited in Robinson, Cyrus Adler: Selected Letters, volume 1, page 210).

[1] Adler was not alone in making the link between the study of the Bible and Semitics. The groundwork for Jewish Bible scholarship in America was thus established, “albeit through the backdoor and under the guise of a more acceptable rubric” (J. Sarna and N.M. Sarna, “Jewish Bible Scholarship and Translations in the United States,” in E.S. Frerichs, ed.. The Bible and Bibles in America (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1988), page 97).

[2] Naomi W. Cohen, “Introduction,” volume 1, page xxix. As regards the Jewish community, Adler hoped that the scientific study of Judaism would reinvigorate traditional Judaism and counter the spread of Reform Judaism. See, for example, Adler’s letter of 24 February 1903 to Isaac Kauffman Funk, who represented Funk and Wagnalls, publisher of the Jewish Encyclopedia, on the problems of partisanship of the Reform Jews on the editorial board (Robinson, Cyrus Adler: Selected Letters, volume 1, pages 99–100). Scientific Judaism, as represented by the Jewish Encyclopedia, was not intended to be partisan. For a fuller discussion of Adler s problems with Reform influence on the encyclopedia, see references to Adler in Shuly Rubin Schwartz, The Emergence of Jewish Scholarship in America: The Publication of the Jewish Encyclopedia (Cincinnati: Hebrew Union College Press, 1991).

[3] On the influence of German biblical scholarship in America in the nineteenth century, see Jurgen Herbst, The German Historical School in American Scholarship: A Study in the Transfer of Culture (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 1965), chapter four. Herbst gives a succinct description of German biblical critics, whose main preoccupation was God’s word as given in Scripture. The “lower” critics, who focused on philology, hoped to arrive at the “original wording” by eliminating later accretions to the text. The “higher” critics, using historical criticism, “then applied the findings of literary and historical scholars to an interpretation of the biblical text” (pages 76–77).

[4] For a contemporaneous discussion of biblical criticism in the American Jewish press, see C.A. Briggs “What is Modern Biblical Criticism, American Hebrew, volume LIV, number 4 (23 November 1893), pages 137–141, and volume LIV, number 5 (30 November 1893), pages 155–159. For a discussion of the situation in England, see C. Montefiore, “Some Notes on the Effect of Biblical Criticism upon the Jewish Religion,’” Jewish Quarterly Review, volume 4 (1892), pages 293–306.

[5] Adler, Lectures, pages 162–171. A contemporaneous history of the studies of Semitics at institutions of higher learning is surveyed by Rabbi William Rosenau in “Semitic Studies in American Colleges,” a paper presented before the Central Conference of American Rabbis in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, in 1896. He trace the origins of Semitic studies to the seventeenth century, beginning with instruction in Hebrew, Chaldaic, and Syriac at Harvard, where a chair in Semitics was established in 1640. Rosenau’s paper was reprinted in the Reform Advocate and as a separate pamphlet (now archived at the American Jewish Historical Society). William Rosenau was a student with Adler at Johns Hopkins and later taught there in addition to serving as a pulpit rabbi (Jewish Encyclopedia, s.v. “Rosenau, William”).

[6] Adler, Lectures, pages 162ff.

[7] Ibid., page 165.

[8] William Rosenau agreed with Adler’s assessment. He referred to Haupt’s arrival in America as the beginning of an “eventful epoch” because it was he “who transplanted the new scientific methods of Semitic research upon American soil and thus inaugurated here the era of Semitic philology” (Rosenau, “Semitic Studies in American Colleges”).

[9] As Rosenau wrote on the scientific method, “It is by virtue of it that so much error has been dispelled and so much truth established” (ibid.).

[10] By 1896, of the 16 colleges and universities with Semitics departments, Johns Hopkins ranked as the largest, with 35 students enrolled in the 1894–1895 academic year (ibid.).

[11] An overview of the history of Semitic studies in American universities is presented in Harold S. Wechsler, “Anti-Semitism in the Academy: Jewish Learning in American Universities, 1914–1939,” American Jewish Archives, volume XLII (1990), pages 7-21.

[12] lbid. Wechsler cites the term “common intellectual enemies” from Richard Storr, Harper’s University: The Beginnings (Chicago University of Chicago Press, 1966), pages 39–40.

[13] Schiff s association with Harvard is said to have begun with a suggestion by his brother-in-law James Loeb, then a Harvard undergraduate, that Professor David Lyon contact Schiff to support the acquisition of some inscriptions for the Department of Semitic Languages and History (Janet Tassel, “The Semitic Museum Rises Again,” Harvard Magazine, March-April 1982, page 41). Interestingly, Loeb, who graduated from Harvard in 1888, went on to fund the Loeb Classical Library at Harvard, which publishes Greek and Latin texts in the original with an English translation. Inspired by this endeavor, Jacob Schiff endowed the Schiff Library of Jewish Classics, to be published by the Jewish Publication Society. According to an anecdote reported by Cyrus Adler, Therese Loeb Schiff asked her husband, “Why couldn’t you do for the Jewish classics what Jimmie is doing for the Greek and Roman?” (Cyrus Adler, Jacob H. Schiff: His Life and Letters (Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday, 1928), volume 2, page 64, cited in Jonathan Sarna, JPS: The Americanization of Jewish Culture, page 120).

[14] Jacob H. Schiff (1847–1920) emigrated to the United States at the age of 18. Schiff, who had apprenticed in the banking business in Germany, became one of the most powerful investment bankers in the United States. Schiff and his firm, Kuhn, Loeb and Company, were incredibly influential in fostering the rapid industrialization of the American economy in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. A devoted Jew, Schiff was truly the Maecenas of the American Jewish community (Encyclopaedia Judaica , s.v. “Schiff, Jacob Henry.” See also Adler, Jacob H. Schiff: His Life and Letters, and Cyrus Adler, Jacob Henry Schiff: A Biographical Sketch (New York: American Jewish Committee, 1921)).

[15]Tassel, “The Semitic Museum Rises Again,” page 41.

[16] The Semitic Museum of Harvard University: Addresses Delivered at the Formal Opening of the Museum on Thursday, February 5, 1903 (Cambridge: Harvard University, 1903), pages 21–24.

[17] Ibid., pages 14–18.

[18] It is noteworthy that in 1901 a Germanic Museum was established at Harvard “to recall the singular importance of Germany as an educational model and source for American university development during the last decades of the nineteenth century (G. Goldman, A History of the Germanic Museum at Harvard University (Cambridge, Mass.: Minda de Gunzberg Center for European Studies, Harvard University, 1989), page 1). The Germanic Museum Association included Supreme Court justice Louis Brandeis. In 1927 the tremendous sum of $150,000 was raised from the German-American Jewish community to establish a chair in Germanic studies at Harvard, named in honor of Harvard professor Kuno Franoke. The contributors included Judge Julian Mack, Julius Rosenwald, and the Warburgs (ibid., page 49).

[19] From a diary entry of David Gordon Lyon after he visited former President Eliot of Harvard to inform him about Lowell’s negativity (Wechsler, “Anti-Semitism in the Academy,” page 12). See also Nitza Rosovsky, “Harvard and the Jewish Problem,” in The Jewish Experience at Harvard and Radcliffe (Cambridge: Harvard University Press., 1986), pages 8-12. A major difference between the two Harvard presidents was their view on immigration. Regarding Jewish immigrants. President Eliot was quoted as saying, “if ever any race came hither in search of liberty and equality before the law, and of the safety and prosperity which industry and virtue can win in a fresh land under just conditions, it is the Jews who have come to the United States since 1880” (E.J. James, ed., The Immigrant Jew in America (New York: B.F. Buck, 1907), page 4). Lowell opposed immigration, fearing it would lead to an erosion of American values. So vehement was he in his position that he became the vice-president of the Immigration Restrictive League in 1912.

[20] Adler, Lectures, page 168.

[21] The description of Peabody is found in Herbst, The German Historical School in American Scholarship, pages 94–96. Documentation of Peabody’s formation of a “social museum” at Harvard is found in the Harvard University Archives, Boxes HUG 1676.582 and HUG 1676.582.2. “Letters to and Letters from Francis Greenwood Peabody Concerning the Social Science Exhibit, 1903–1906.” Additional information is found in UAV 800.157, “Social Ethics Department, Social Museum” (two boxes). As evidenced in his correspondence, Peabody was well aware of similar efforts in Europe, and he acquired exhibits (from both European government departments and private agencies) that had been on display at the Louisiana Purchase Exposition in St. Louis in 1904.

[22] lbid. As Herbst described what Social Gospel meant to Peabody, “For him that gospel was the natural result of the fusion of piety, science, and the reforming urge, and German Wissenschaft had made the ‘will to do good’ intellectually respectable.”

[23] HUG 1676.582.2.

[24] It is likely that Adler was aware of Peabody’s work as well as that of Herbert Baxter Adams, a Baltimore theologian. Adams wrote on the relation of religion to culture: “As in ancient Jewish and early Christian society, so in the modern world the ministers of religion have also been exponents of culture” (“The Church and Popular Education,” in H.B. Adams, ed., Johns Hopkins University Studies in Historical and Political Science, series 18 (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1908), pages 7-84.

[1] Adler’s motivation for having Haupt become the official spokesman is not certain. Perhaps he was being politically sensitive; it is also conceivable that he had second thoughts and realized he was not yet sufficiently prepared to take on the position. In his autobiography Adler wrote that although he had already agreed to take on the work, he later demurred: “I felt I was too young and not sufficiently well known to accept it” (Adler, I Have Considered the Days, pages 67ff).

[2] The letter is in SIA, RU 201, Box 11, Folder 8. It begins, “It has recently occurred to me that the National Museum might be enriched, at no great cost, in a department of archaeology hitherto almost entirely neglected.”

[3] Mason’s annual reports are in SIA, RU 158, United States National Museum, 1881–1964, Curators’ Annual Reports, Box 3.

[4] C. Adler, “Report on the Section of Oriental Antiquities for the Year Ending June 30, 1888.” The draft is found in SIA, RU 158, Box 5, Folder 1; the report is published in G. Brown Goode, “Report of the Assistant Secretary,” Annual Report of the Board of Regents of the Smithsonian Institution, 1888 (Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 1890), pages 93–95.

[5] “Report upon the Exhibit of the Smithsonian Institution, Including the U.S. National Museum, at the Centennial Exposition of the Ohio Valley and Central States, Held at Cincinnati, Ohio, in 1888,” pages 154ff. The report, authored by R. Edward Earll, was published as appendix A in G. Brown Goode, “Report of the Assistant Secretary,” Annual Report of the Board of Regents of the Smithsonian Institution, 1889 (Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 1891).

[6] lbid., page 159. This is also found in SIA, RU 55, “Assistant Secretary in Charge of the U.S. National Museum (Richard Rathbun),” Box 19, Folder 8. The exhibition was held from 4 July to 8 November 1888. The general files on the exposition, including those of the biblical archaeology installation, are in SIA, RU 70, “Exposition Records of the Smithsonian Institution and the U.S. National Museum, 1873–1929,” Boxes 28 and 29. The total exhibition space was 12,000 square feet, of which biblical archaeology occupied 280 square feet.

[7] G. Brown Goode, “Report of the Assistant Secretary,” Annual Report of the Board of Regents of the Smithsonian Institution. 1889 (Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office), page 165.

[8] Adler’s draft is in SIA, RU 70, Box 28.

[9] Adler’s first draft of this position is found in SIA, RU 70, Box 28. The revised draft is found in “Report of the Section of Oriental Antiquities for the Year Ending June 30, 1888,” page 7 (SIA, RU 158, Box 5, Folder 1). It was published in G. Brown Goude, “Report of the Assistant Secretary,” Annual Report of the Board of Regents of the Smithsonian Institution, 1888 (Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 1890), page 94.

Isaac
[10] Isaac Leeser (1806–1868) was born in Westphalia (then Prussia) and studied in Munster. He immigrated to the United States when he was 17, coming to live with an uncle in Richmond, Virginia. Publication in a New York newspaper of an article he wrote in defense of Judaism brought him to the attention of Congregation Mikveh Israel in Philadelphia, and he became hazzan there in 1829. Preaching in English was his innovation. He founded The Occident in 1843, which became a successful newspaper covering topics of interest to the Jewish community. He established the first Jewish Publication Society of America, which issued a number of important volumes, including school textbooks. He was an institution builder as well, founding the first Hebrew high school (1849), the Board of Delegates of American Israelites to defend Jewish interests (1859), and Maimonides College, which was the first rabbinic school in America (1867). He was a traditionalist in his approach to Judaism (Encyclopaedia Judaica, s.v. “Leeser, Isaac”).

[11] Isaac Mayer Wise (1819–1900) was born in Bohemia and emigrated to the United States in 1846. He served in congregations in Albany, New York, and Charleston, South Carolina, before becoming the rabbi of Congregation B’nai Jeshurun in Cincinnati, Ohio, where he remained from 1854 until his death. Wise, the founding father of the Reform movement in America, was the first president of Hebrew Union College, which was established in 1875 (Encyclopaedia Judaica, s.v. “Wise, Isaac Mayer”).

[12] For a complete discussion of the history of the Jewish Publication Society’s Bible project, see J.D. Sarna, JPS: The Americanization of Jewish Culture, pages 95–116.

[13] Adler most fully realized this goal at the 1895 exhibition of biblical antiquities at the Cotton States International Exposition in Atlanta. The categories of items exhibited represented a wide spectrum of topics, from geology to flora and fauna, dress, tools, musical instruments, and language. Egyptian, Assyrian, Babylonian, and Hittite antiquities were also included, as these ancient peoples were mentioned in the Bible. However, celebration of customs and ceremonies was completely limited to the “Hebrews” and was represented by Jewish ceremonial objects. Cyrus Adler and I.M. Casanowicz, “Biblical Antiquities: A Description of the Exhibit at the Cotton States International Exposition, Atlanta, 1895,” United States National Museum Annual Report for 1896 (Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 1898), pages 943–1023.

[14] Cyrus Adler, “Report on the Section of Oriental Antiquities for the Year Ending June 30, 1888,” pages 8ff. (SIA, RU 158, Box 5, Folder 1). This statement also appears in Adler’s description of the Ohio exhibition in “The Contribution of the Section of Oriental Antiquities to the Ohio Valley Centennial Exhibition” (SIA, RU 70, Box 29).

[15] lbid., pages 9ff. In Otis T. Mason’s 1889 annual report (page 3), he amended this to an 800-mile radius (SIA, RU 158, Box 3).

[16] Cyrus Adler, “Report of the Section of Oriental Antiquities for the Year Ending June 30, 1889” (SIA, RU 158, Box 5, Folder 2).

[17] SIA, RU 158, Box 3.

[18] SIA. RU 158, Box 5, Folder 2.

[19] lbid.

[20] SIA, RU 201, Box 11. He was making the same point that Goode did in his paper “Origin of the National Scientific and Educational Institutions of the United States,” that informal advocacy was not as useful as government sponsorship (cited in Kohlstedt, “History in a Natural History Museum,” page 18).

[21] Abraham A. Neuman, Cyrus Adler: A Biographical Sketch (New York: American Jewish Committee, 1942), page 31. The plan for where the Oriental antiquities were to be assigned was actually determined earlier. In the “Report of the Assistant Director” in the “Report of the U.S. National Museum,” as printed in the Annual Report of the Board of Regents of the Smithsonian Institution for the Year Ending June 30. 1988, it is noted that the Oriental antiquities were to be exhibited in the West Hall, just off the Rotunda, with the ethnological exhibits (page 26).

[22] Publications of the United States National Museum Bulletin (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Government Printing Office, 1889), page 5. The tally during the inauguration season was 106,075.

[23] Although Adler’s biographer, Abraham A. Neuman, said that the shofar (catalog number NMAH 95142) had been donated prior to Adler’s association with the museum, according to the registration records it was given in 1889. Leopold Sulzberger, who arrived in the United States from Germany in 1838, died in 1881 (Universal Jewish Encyclopedia, s.v, “Sulzberger”).

[24] Cyrus Adler, “The Shofar: Its Use and Origin,” in Annual Report of the United States National Museum, 1891–92 (Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 1894), pages 437–450. The letter is cited in Robinson, Cyrus Adler: Selected Letters, volume 1. page 18.

[25] Henrietta Szold (1860–1945) was born in Baltimore, Maryland, the eldest of five daughters. Szold not only excelled in her secular education but also was privately tutored by her father in Judaic studies. In addition, she learned German, Hebrew, and French. An activist from her youth, Szold pioneered a night school for eastern European immigrants that became a model for the Americanization of immigrants. She was an ardent Zionist. Among her many achievements, Szold was coeditor with Adler of the American Jewish Year Book and was actively involved as an editor and translator for the Jewish Publication Society (Encyclopaedia Judaica, s.v. “Szold, Henrietta”). The photograph she donated to the Smithsonian is cataloged as NMAH 158469. Her father, Benjamin Szold (1829–1902), was born in Hungary and trained in Pressburg, Vienna, and Breslau. He arrived in the United States in 1859 and immediately took the position at Oheb Shalom, which became a leading synagogue during his tenure as rabbi. He was a Bible scholar and was active in communal affairs, especially those aiding new immigrants (Encyclopaedia Judaica, s.v. “Szold, Benjamin”).

[26] The gift is documented in the Jewish Encyclopedia, s.v. “Baltimore.”

[27] The catalog listed 92 items, making it a very significant collection. See William Rosenau, Jewish Ceremonial Institutions and Customs, fourth edition (New York: Bloch, 1929). For many years the collection was on loan to the Baltimore Hebrew College; since 1983, it has been on exhibit at Temple Oheb Shalom in Baltimore. I am grateful to Jesse B. Harris, temple administrator at Oheb Shalom, for making a photocopy of the catalog available to me. 1 also thank Henry Sonneborn 111 for sending me a biography of his grandfather.

[28] SIA, RU 201, Box 11.

[29] Information about Karl Hirschherger and Sigmund Feuchtwanger is found in Alexandra Lee Levin, Vision: A Biography of Dr. Harry Friedenwald of Baltimore (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society of America, 1964), page 127. The objects accessioned from Friedenwald include a tray from Turkey (NMNH 130291), a spice container (NMAH 130297), a Sabbath lamp (NMNH 130298), and a seder plate from Germany (NMAH 130299)

[30] The photographs NMAH 154419–154432 were entered in the registration records as a museum purchase on 18 November 1892. Included are the photographs from the following cities: Berlin, Bonn, Budapest, Florence, Frankfurt, Paris, Prague, Vienna, Wiesbaden, and Worms. The division, created in 1969 by Richard Ahlborn to emphasize ethnic and religious collections in the museum, was absorbed into the newly reorganized Division of Cultural History in 1995.

[31] Robinson, Cyrus Adler: Selected Letters, volume 1, page 10. According to Robinson, the date on the Adler letter to Morais is 24 November 1887. This is apparently an error; the letter was almost certainly sent in 1889. According to Friedenwald’s biography, he went to Italy after his stay in Munich.

[32] Levin, Vision, page 127. The shofar is NMAH 154402.

[33] Robinson, Cyrus Adler: Selected Letters, volume 1, page 17.

[34] Bernhard Felsenthal (1822–1908) was born in Munchweile, Germany, and emigrated to the United States in 1854. Felsenthal was a founder of the Chicago Jüdisches Reformverein, which developed into the Sinai Congregation. In 1864 he became rabbi of the newly formed Zion Congregation, which he served until his retirement in 1887. Felsenthal was also a founder of the Jewish Publication Society and the American Jewish Historical Society, and he was involved with Adler through those organizations. In contrast to most others in the Reform movement, he identified with the Zionist movement and placed emphasis on Jewish peoplehood (Jewish Encyclopedia, s.v. “Felsenthal, Bernhard”). Institutionally, Felsenthal was aligned with Hebrew Union College, which awarded him the degree of doctor of divinity in 1902; Adler was affiliated with Sabato Morais and the Jewish Theological Seminary (JTS), which he later served as president. JTS was established in 1887 as a response to the radical Pittsburgh Platform, adopted by the Reform movement in 1885. In his later years, Felsenthal moved closer to Conservative Judaism. The title of his pamphlet, Kol Kore Bamidbar, means “a voice rings out in the desert” and is a quotation from Isaiah 40:3.

[35] According to the registration records, there are only five Judaica items listed as having been purchased by Adler during September 1889: a Sabbath lamp, NMAH 130294; a Hanukkah lamp, NMAH 130295; a print of “Ancient Jewish Scholars,” NMAH 154454; a relief map of Palestine, accession no. 22351; and a print of the Tabernacle, accession no. 22480. The Sabbath lamp and Hanukkah lamp were published in three U.S. National Museum catalogs: the Annual Report of the U.S. National Museum, 1898, Proceedings of the U.S. National Museum, 1908; and U.S. National Museum Bulletin 148, 1929.

[36] SIA, RU 158, Box 5, Folder 4.

[37] Levin, Vision, pages 132ff.

[38] Report of the U.S. National Museum, 1891, page 19.

[39] G. Brown Goode, “Report of the Assistant Secretary,” Report of the U.S. National Museum, 1893 (Washington D.C.: U.S. Government Printing Office, 1895), page 136.

[1] Annual Report of the United States National Museum, 1891.

[2] Goode’s plan is cited in R. Rydell, All the World’s a Fair: Visions of Empire at American International Expositions, 1876–1916 (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1984), pages 44–46.

[3] Goode was citing an unidentified “leader in the educational work of America,” who had written this to him. Goode, First Draft of a System of Classification for the World’s Columbian Exposition, (Chicago: Donohue and Henneberry, 1891), page xv.

[4] Robert W. Rydell, “A Cultural Frankenstein? The Chicago World’s Columbian Exposition of 1893,” in Grand Illusions: Chicago’s World’s Fair of 1893 (Chicago: Chicago Historical Society, 1993), page 166. In this article exploring the theme of the “other” at the fair, Native Americans, African-Americans, and women are included in that category.

[5] Anonymous, History of the Fair (New York: Rossiter and Johnson, 1897), page 489.

[6] For a discussion on the politics of commercialism as transformed into the cultural model represented by world’s fairs, see Robert W. Rydell, “The Culture of Imperial Abundance: World’s Fairs in the Making of American Culture,” in Simon J. Bronner, ed., Consuming Visions: Accumulation and Display of Goods in America, 1880–1920 (New York: W.W. Norton, 1989), pages 191–216.

[7] For a contemporary summary, see Frederick Starr, “Anthropology at the World’s Fair,” Popular Science Monthly, volume 43 (September 1893), pages 610–621.

[8] lbid., page 615.

[9] SIA, RU 158, Box 3, pages 11–12. The plan to show “models of habitations and of costumed figures” that were “so popular and effective in the recent Paris exposition” is also described in Secretary Langley’s presentation to Congress on the proposed exhibition by the Smithsonian Institution and National Museum presented on 15 March 1890 (cited in W.J. Rbees, ed., The Smithsonian Institution: Documents Relative to Its Origin are History, 1835–1899).

[10] The history of the anthropology exhibit planning for the fair is developed from Rydell, All the World’s a Fair, pages 62–63, and Curtis M. Hinsley, “The World as Marketplace,” in Ivan Karp and Steven D, Lavine, eds., Exhibiting Cultures: The Poetics and Politics of Museum Display (Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1991), pages 348–349. Bloom’s quote is cited from The Autobiography of Sol Bloom (New York: G.P. Putnam’s Sons, 1948), page 119.

[11] Richard H. Pratt, Battlefield and Classroom: Four Decades with the American Indian, edited by Robert M. Utley (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1964), page 303. Cited in R.R. Badger, The Great American Fair: The World’s Columbian Exposition and American Culture (Chicago: Nelson-Hall, 1979), pages 105–106.

[12] Frederick Douglass, The Reason Why the Colored American is Not in the World’s Columbian Exposition, edited by Ida B. Wells (Chicago: Ida B. Wells, 1893), page 9. Douglass was appointed by the Republic of Haiti as a commissioner to the fair. Douglass’s quote is cited in Badger, The Great American Fair, pages 105–106.

[13] Hinsley, “The World as Marketplace,” page 354.

[14] The belly dance—or the “danse du ventre” as it was called—was performed in four theaters on the Midway (Rydell, “A Cultural Frankenstein,” pages 164–166) Though the legendary Coney Island nude dancer called Little Egypt has long been associated with the fair, according to Sol Bloom she never appeared on the Midway (cited in Badger, The Great American Fair, page 161).

[15] Adler, I Have Considered the Days, pages 72ff. See also Neuman, Cyrus Adler, page 35.

[16] Rydell, “A Cultural Frankenstein,” page 166.

[17] lbid., pages 162–163. According to Rydell, “This ‘orientalist’ structure of thought that pervaded the Midway crystallized in a cluster of exhibits—the Street in Cairo, the Algerian Village, the Persian Palace, the Wild East Show, the Moorish Palace, and the Turkish Theater—that were among the most popular attractions along the Midway.”

[18] in the United States there was a clear manifestation of the disdain for “Orientals” in the American opposition to immigration by Jews as well as non-Jews. German Jews used the term Orientalism to describe the undesirable, uncivilized traits of the Jews from eastern Europe. Dr. J. Silverman, rabbi of Temple Emanu-El in New York, speaking on behalf of the Hebrew Educational Alliance, decried Orientalism as a “hydra-headed monster” that could only be counteracted by an “American education ... the weapon with which to fight Orientalism.” Support for the fair, he admonished, “is not Charity, but a matter of self-preservation. Reason calls for it, Judaism demands it, and American Patriotism dictates it” (“The Hebrew Educational Fair and Its Bearing on the Immigrant Question,” American Hebrew, volume 41, number 5 (6 December 1889), pages 119–120). In 1909, when the issue of race and the possibility of Jews being classified as Asiatics came to the fore, Adler, though he had already left the Smithsonian, used his influence to convince Secretary Walcott that he should make the case that questions relating to race should be referred from the Department of Commerce and Labor to the anthropologists at the Smithsonian. In writing of this to Mayer Sulzberger, Adler indicated that he would write the plan and “could exercise a direct influence over it and keep it sound and normal” (Robinson, Cyrus Adler: Selected Letters, volume 1, pages 176–177).

[19] C.H. Gibbs-Smith, The Great Exhibition of 1851 (London: Victoria and Albert Museum, 1981), page 55.

[20] Glenn Lowry, “Islamic Art and the Politics of Perception: Display and Interpretation,” public lecture, The Getty Center for the History of Art and the Humanities, 5 March 1991, unpublished.

[21] During his travels, Adler wrote letters home almost daily. Some of these are cited in Robinson, Cyrus Adler: Selected Letters, volume 1, pages 27–55. Adler’s wit is evident in the letters; for example, writing on 24 April 1891 to his mother, he said of the glories of Jerusalem, “None of the books I have ever read and no city that I have ever seen gives an idea of just how Jerusalem lays. In a way, Cincinnati approaches it more closely than any other place that I have seen, but I suppose that comparison would make many people smile (page 41). (Hebrew Union College, representing the Reform movement, to which he was ideologically opposed, was established in Cincinnati in 1875.) Other letters from his trip are in the collection of Adler’s paper; in the Library of the Jewish Theological Seminary, Box 1/17 and Box 1/18. This library will henceforth be referred to as JTS. Documents from the Library of the Jewish Theological Seminary have been provided courtesy of the Library of the Jewish Theological Seminary of America.

[22] He did seek out the Jewish communities, and his letters are replete with details of his encounters. Included are descriptions of synagogues and of the different customs and celebrations. Initially he visited these synagogues primarily to pray, but increasingly he described the plight of the Jews. On 21 June 1891 he wrote, “I don’t know whether it is realized in America or not, but it is perfectly plain that the Jews have reached a great crisis in their history. Out of Russia they must go—and into Palestine many will come. I believe from all the signs that the Turks will favor their coming and that with money the Jews of the world can now buy Palestine back” (Robinson, Cyrus Adler: Selected Letters, volume 1, page 50). While in Turkey, he sought permission from the Turkish government for 5,000 Jews per year to immigrate to Palestine (Finkelstein, “Preface,” volume 1, page xix).

[23] Letter, 21 November 1890, JTS, Adler Papers, Box 1/18. Baron Maurice de Hirsch (1831–1896) was a financier whose many business interests included building the Oriental Railway linking Constantinople to Europe, which was financed by Turkish lottery bonds in 1869. Baron de Hirsch’s host of philanthropic efforts included major support for the Alliance Israelite to create schools for needy Oriental Jewish children (Encyclopaedia Judaica, s.v. “Hirsch”). Separate from Adler’s efforts, there was an exhibition on the work done by the Alliance Israelite in the Liberal Arts Building at the World’s Columbian Exposition (discussed in American Hebrew, volume 53, number 17 (25 August 1893), pages 532–533). The Sassoon family, originally from Baghdad, also wielded great influence in the financial arena in the Near East and India and were great philanthropists (Encyclopaedia Judaica, s.v. “Sassoon”).

[24] Letter, 21 November 1890, JTS, Adler Papers, Box 1/18.

[25] Writing from Cairo on April 5, 1891, Adler noted that he had again met with Brusch Bey, and although Brusch Bey had had his fill of exhibitions at Philadelphia, he liked America and Americans, and if the Egyptian government agreed to participate in the exposition, he would do his part (JTS, Adler Papers, Box 1/18).

[26] Letter, 10 December 1890, JTS, Adler Papers, Box 1/18.

[27] Letter, 30 November 1890, JTS, Adler Papers, Box 1/18. He also remarked on the efficiency of the British Library and expressed his hopes that the Library of Congress would be patterned after its organization and arrangement. Writing to his mother, he could also pridefully comment, “I cannot resist a satisfaction with my Assyrian training.” It is interesting also to note that Adler visited the museum on a Friday evening. Given that he was an observant Jew, it is surprising that he would have done so on the Sabbath.

[28] Letter, 19 December 1890 (cited in Robinson, Cyrus Adler: Selected Letters, volume 1, pages 28–29). Another hint of his own fascination with the beauty of the Near East, reflecting the spirit of Orientalism, is evident in a letter he wrote from Damascus on 4 May 1891: “As I got in I came to understand why Damascus is called the pearl, and the eye of the east. It is a very hard and very dusty ride but an artist who could put even a few of these things to canvas would make a fortune” (Robinson, Cyrus Adler: Selected Letters, volume 1, page 45).

[29] Oscar Straus (1850–1926), who served as secretary of commerce and labor in the administration of Theodore Roosevelt, thus becoming the first Jew to hold a cabinet post, was minister to Turkey from 1887 to 1889 and then from 1898 to 1900. He was ambassador in 1909 and 1910 (Naomi W. Cohen, A Dual Heritage: The Public Career of Oscar S. Straus (Philadelphia:’ Jewish Publication Society, 1969), pages 21–38). Straus, who was an appointee of the Cleveland administration, resigned his post when Harrison became President. Cohen makes the point that when he resigned, some influential American Jews tried to lobby to retain a diplomatic post for a Jew in the new administration. Straus protested, as he opposed the notion of one “political plum” for the Jews. Despite his resistance, Solomon Hirsch, a Republican from Oregon, who was Jewish, received the position (page 38).

[30] Letter, 24 December 1890, JTS, Adler Papers, Box 1/18.

[31] lbid.

[32] Robinson, Cyrus Adler: Selected Letters, volume 1, page 32.

[33] Diary entry, 29 January 1891, JTS, Adler Papers, Box 1/17.

[34] Robinson, Cyrus Adler: Selected Letters, volume 1, pages 32–33.

[35] Heinrich Schliemann (1822–1890) was a businessman turned archaeologist. He was the first to excavate ancient Troy. Adler was an admirer of his and noted that he thought the labels at the museum were in Schliemann’s handwriting. While in Constantinople, Adler learned that Schliemann had died in Greece. He wanted to attend the funeral, but when he learned it would take him some 40 hours to get to Athens, he made the decision not to go (letter, 31 December 1890, JTS, Adler Papers, Box 1/18).

[36] Letter, 6 February 1891, JTS, Adler Papers, Box 1/18.

[37] Diary entry, 2 January 1891, JTS, Adler Papers, Box 1/18.

[38] Letter, 22 February 1891, JTS, Adler Papers, Box 1/18.

[39] Letter, Adler to Watkins, 24 February 1891, SIA, RU 201, Box 11.

[40] Letter, 8 March 1891, JTS, Adler Papers, Box 1/18.

[41] Letter, 10 March 1891, JTS, Adler Papers, Box 1/18.

[42] Letter, 6 April 1891, JTS, Adler Papers, Box 1/18. In this letter he also reported that he was informed by Hirsch of problems in Turkey, with the exposition matter being stuck in the Department of Public Works. At this point he asked that the grand vizier go directly to the sultan to resolve the problem.

[43] Letter, 9 April 1891, JTS, Adler Papers, Box 1/18.

[44] Letter, 16 April 1891, JTS. Adler Papers, Box 1/18.

[45] This was not a one-sided issue, but represented the attitude of the Chicago entrepreneurs as well. See Hinsley, ‘The World as Marketplace.”

[46] Letter, 16 April 1891, JTS, Adler Papers, Box 1/18.

[47] Letter, 21 May 1891, JTS, Adler Papers, Box 1/18.

[48] Adler, I Have Considered the Days, page 135.

[49] Isidore Lewi, “Yom Kippur on the Midway,” in Report of the Committee on Awards of the World’s Columbian Exposition, Special Reports upon Special Subjects or Groups (Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 1901), volume 2, page 1693.

[50] Robinson, Cyrus Adler: Selected Letters, volume 1, page 49.

[51] lbid., volume 1, page 52.

[52] Letter, 24 July 1891, JTS, Adler Papers, Box 1/18.

[53] Letter, 6 and 10 July 1891, JTS, Adler Papers, Box 1/18.

[54] There was a crusade by the Board of Lady Managers, led by Bertha Palmer, and the clergy to close the theaters. In response, George Davis, the director general of the exposition, issued an ambiguous edict saying that “interested concessionaires” must “restrain all future exhibits within the limits of stage propriety as recognized in this country.” Because these theaters were so lucrative, the efforts failed (Jeanne Madeline Weimann, The Fair Women: The Story of the Woman’s Building, World’s Columbian Exposition, Chicago, 1893 (Chicago- Academy Chicago, 1981), pages 257–258).

[55] He wrote that the first directive came on 3 July and the second, definitive charge on 10 July (JTS, Adler Papers, Box 1/18).

[56] Letter, 6 September 1891, JTS, Adler Papers, Box 1/18. Unfortunately, Adler was not happy with the person designated to carry out the Egyptian scheme.

[57] Adler, “Museum Collections to Illustrate Religious History and Ceremonials,” United States National Museum Annual Report for 1892–1893 (Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 1894), page 760.

[58] Adler, I Have Considered the Days, page 77.

[59] He expressed these sentiments in a letter to his mother dated 1 December 1890, writing, “I have, as you know always had a high opinion of these Anglo-Jewish scholars and my impression has been more than confirmed by meeting them” (Robinson, Cyrus Adler: Selected Letters, volume 1, page 24). Also, Sally Adler Wolfinsohn described her father as a true and complete Anglophile.

[60] Naomi W. Cohen, “Introduction,” volume 1, page xxix. See also Cyrus Adler, “A Jewish Renaissance,” American Hebrew, volume 56 (9 December 1894), page 181. He focused his proposal on a research center for “Jewish science” and proposed the establishment of the Jewish Academy of America. The Academy would be a teaching institution as well. Adler’s plan was realized with the bequest of Moses A. Dropsie (1821–1905), and Adler became the founding president of Dropsie College for Hebrew and Cognate Learning in Philadelphia when he left the Smithsonian.

[61] In December 1900, in his annual address as president of the American Jewish Historical Society, Adler initiated a plan to develop an American Jewish historical exhibition that would be similar in scope to the Anglo-Jewish Historical Exhibition (Cyrus Adler, “Address of the President,” Publications of the American Jewish Historical Society, volume 9 (1901), pages 5-6. See also “A Proposed American Jewish Historical Exhibition,” American Jewish Year Book (1902), pages 104–108). At the meeting, Joseph Jacobs (1854–1916), a historian and folklorist who was one of the organizers of the Anglo-Jewish Historical Exhibition, presented a paper entitled “A Plea for an American Historical Exhibition” (Publications of the American Jewish Historical Society, volume 9 (1903), pages 12–17). Jacobs came to America to serve as an editor of the Jewish Encyclopedia. Considerable work was done on the plan for several years, including the development of an elaborate classification system (see Appendix 1). The records relating to the exhibition are found in the archives of the American Jewish Historical Society, 1-21, “American Jewish Historical Exhibition.” When plans for the exhibition were delayed, there was a proposal that the exhibition be shown at the Louisiana Purchase Exposition in St. Louis in 1904. Adler’s position was that, just as he had arranged an exhibition on Jewish “ecclesiastical art and ceremonial customs” as part of a general exhibition on religions, any exhibition on the American Jewish experience should be framed within the context of an exhibition of general American history. “I cannot see the propriety of our endeavoring to make an exception of American Jewish History” (American Jewish Historical Society archives, 1-21, letter from Cyrus Adler to M.B. Greensfelder, 12 March 1902).

[62] Appendix II of Adler, “Museum Collections,” page 765. In this publication Adler also cited other classification systems. Appendix I was that of the Esposizione Vaticana for the Jubilee of Pope Leo XIII, December 1887-May 1888; appendix 111 was that of the University of Pennsylvania’s exhibition on religions. See Appendix II herein.

[63] These photographs (NMAH 154470) are now in the reference files in the Division of Cultural History, National Museum of American History.

[64] Dr. Cyrus Adler’s Return: A Statement upon His Return from the Near East and North Africa as Special World’s Fair Commissioner to the Orient,” Jewish Exponent, volume 10 (22 January 1892), page 2. In the short announcement he also noted that the sultan of Turkey was going to send two imperial commissioners to supervise the exhibition of that country and that the negotiations with Persia, which originally had been under Adler’s jurisdiction, were now being handled by the United States minister to Persia, acting as special commissioner for the exposition.

[65] Adler, I Have Considered the Days, page 173.

[66] Cyrus Adler and I.M. Casanowicz, “The Collection of Jewish Ceremonial Objects in the United States National Museum.”

[67] “Collection to Illustrate the Comparative History of Religion,” Annual Report of the Board of Regents of the Smithsonian Institution for the Year Ending June 30, 1890 (Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 1891), page 19.

[68] Adler, I Have Considered the Days, page 178.

[69] G. Brown Goode, Report of the Assistant Director of the National Museum for the Year 1881, page 93.

[70] Adler, ‘Museum Collections to Illustrate Religious History and Ceremonials,” pages 758–759. The description was in Adler’s talk at the International Congress of Anthropology, Chicago, 1893.

[71] N.W. Cohen, “Anti-Semitism in the Gilded Age,” page 190.

[72] SIA, RU 70, Box 33. There is a second letter to Mason, dated 24 March, in which Adler again requests information on duplicates in the museum collection and states, “I think that the decision as to the preparation of such an exhibit, will depend very largely on the definite answering of this question.” Adler also notes that Mason had mentioned that his department had duplicates of North American Indian religious ceremonial, which might be exchanged with foreign museums, and asks, “Are you prepared to take this matter up now?” Perhaps Adler hoped to acquire some significant collections in this way.

[73] SIA, RU 70, Box 33.

[74] Ibid. The illustrations of Jewish ceremony that were purchased by Adler for use in the exhibit comprised the series by Moritz Oppenheim, “Bilder aus dem altjüdischen Familienleben” (“Scenes from Traditional Jewish Family Life”), NMAH 154569. The eighteenth-century Picart prints have been dispersed; some are in the National Anthropological Archives, and some are catalogued as NMAH 154575.

[75] Adler and Casanowicz, “The Collection of Jewish Ceremonial Objects in the United States National Museum,” page 702.

[76] SIA, RU 70, Box 33, Folder 2.

[77] Ibid.

[78] SIA, RU 70, Box 37, Book 3, page 152 (memo dated 20 December 1892).

[79] SIA, RU 70, Box 37, Book 4, page 139. N. Taylor Phillips (1868–1952) was a descendant of Jonas Phillips (1736–1803), patriarch of an early American Jewish family. N. Taylor Phillips was a lawyer and public official. He was a member of the New York State Legislature from 1898 through 1901. Phillips was a founder of the American Jewish Historical Society and served as its treasurer from 1904 to 1918. His donations to the American Jewish Historical Society include a number of colonial-era portraits. He was also active in Shearith Israel, the Spanish and Portuguese Synagogue in New York, where he was president (Universal Jewish Encyclopedia, s.v. “Phillips, N. Taylor”).

[80] SIA, RU 70, Box 39, Folder 8.

[81] SIA, RU 70, Box 37, Book 4, page 173. The bone cross has not been identified. An ornate bronze processional cross (NMAH 152231) was acquired by Goode in Italy. The cross was published in I.M. Casanowicz, “Collections of Objects of Religious Ceremonial in the U.S. National Museum,” United States National Museum Bulletin, number 148 (31 December 1929), page37.

[82] SIA, RU 158, Box 5, Folder 8 (department report by Cyrus Adler dated 22 July 1897, directed to C.D. Walcott).

[83] Unfortunately, the Smithsonian lacked the funds to buy the entire lot (Richard Eighme Ahlborn and Vera Beaver-Bricken Espinola, eds., Russian Copper Icons and Crosses from the Kunz Collection: Castings of Faith (Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1991), page 1.

[84] Adler described meeting Mr. Souhami in a letter to his mother dated 26 December 1890 (Robinson, Cyrus Adler: Selected Letters, volume 1, page 31). Adler sent a telegram on 30 June 1893 requesting permission to purchase the Torah shield. The price was one hundred dollars, a rather high sum for a ceremonial object at the time (SIA, RU 201, “Assistant Secretary in Charge of the USNM 1875–1902. Letters Received from Departments and Bureaus of the Government and Letters from Officials of the Museum,” Box 11, Folder 6). Although the Torah shield (NMAH 154990) was purchased from Souhami, whom Adler knew to be Turkish, its style is not Near Eastern, but rather is very similar to eastern European examples. The likelihood is that it was either imported to Turkey or was made by a Russian artisan living in Turkey.

[85] Adler, I Have Considered the Days, pages 116ff.

[86] Adler’s story is in I Have Considered the Days, page 117. The more typically reported history is found in Encyclopaedia Judaica, s.v. “Genizah.” Romanian-born Solomon Schechter (1847–1915) trained at the Berlin Hochschule für die Wissenschaft des Judentums and the University of Berlin. In 1882 he moved to London to teach rabbinics, and in 1890 he was appointed lecturer in Talmudics and in 1892 reader in rabbinics at Cambridge University. In 1902 he moved to the United States to assume the presidency of the Jewish Theological Seminary (Encyclopaedia Judaica, s.v. “Schechter, Solomon”).

[87] The catalog numbers at the Freer are 08.44.1 through 08.44.50.

[88] A listing of the objects in what was termed the “Jewish exhibit” was published in American Hebrew, volume 53, number 13 (28 July 1893), pages 404–405. There were other Jewish-related exhibits at the fair that were not ceremonial. The Alliance Israelite had an exhibition of their educational work at the Liberal Arts Building (described in American Hebrew, volume 53, number 17 (25 August 1893), page 532). In the Woman’s Building there was an exhibition from the Mount Sinai Hospital and Training School (described in American Hebrew volume 53, number 11 (July 14, 1893)).

[89] Letter, 19 December 1890, JTS, Adler Papers, Box 1/18.

[90] Catalog numbers for these items are as follows: Torah ark curtain, NMNH 154758; rabbi’s costume, NMNH 154761; marriage contracts, NMAH 154630, NMAH 154631, NMNH 154632, NMAH 154633.

[91] Gotthard Deutsch was born in 1859 in Austria and died in Cincinnati in 1921. Deutsch came to the United States in 1891 and began teaching at Hebrew Union College (HUC), bringing to the study of Jewish history the scientific approach of modern times (Universal Jewish Encyclopedia, s.v. “Deutsch, Gotthard”). When HUC formally established its museum in 1913. it was Deutsch who wrote an eloquent plea to save ceremonial objects that, given Reform tendencies, had been consigned to “garrets.” Documents on the founding of the Union Museum are in the HUC Skirball Museum Archives, Los Angeles.

[92] Henry Cohen (1860–1952) was born in London and immigrated to the United States in 1885. He served first in Woodville, Mississippi, before coming to Galveston in 1888, Cohen was a historian of the Texas Jewish community and was active in the efforts to reform the Texas penal system (Encyclopaedia Judaica, s.v. “Cohen, Henry”).

[93] NMAH 154571–154574. Although listed as returned, NMAH 154572 (Prayers for Rosh ha-Shanah and Yom Kippur) is maintained in the collection.

[94] Adler, I Have Considered the Days, page 173.

[95] Mordecai Benguiat, “A Jewish Museum in America,” unpublished article in the Benguiat File, Department of Judaica, Jewish Museum, New York. The article was written at the time of the opening of a separate gallery for the Jewish Museum at the Jewish Theological Seminary in New York.

[96] Benguiat, “A Jewish Museum in America.”

[97] Ibid.

[98] SIA, RU 70, Box 37, Book 3, page 87.

[99] Because the Benguiat Collection was only a loan, the records previously kept in the Smithsonian Institution Archives were destroyed several years ago. In the Registrar’s Office in the National Museum of Natural History there are cards used to record activity concerning the collection, so it is possible to trace dates of loans and correspondence, but the actual documents are gone. Fortunately, what does remain are the original catalog cards for the World’s Columbian Exposition loan; they are in the Department of Anthropology Processing Lab in the National Museum of Natural History. At that time loans were processed in the same way as acquisitions and were given numbers in that sequential system. Subsequent Benguiat loans were recorded in a loan book in the processing lab, so it is possible to identify the objects loaned and the dates of accession and deaccession. There are no catalog cards extant for loans from the Benguiat collection after 1893.

[100] Cyrus Adler and I.M. Casanowicz, “Descriptive Catalogue of a Collection of Objects of Jewish Ceremonial Deposited in the U.S. National Museum by Hadji Ephraim Benguiat,” United States National Museum Annual Report for 1898–1899 (Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 1901), pages 539–561.

[101] A clipping of “local notes” from a newspaper dated 10 October 1916, which was enclosed in a letter dated 13 October to Mordecai Benguiat from Richard Rathbun, assistant secretary in charge of the National Museum, states, “Messrs Hadji Ephraim and Mordecai Benguiat of Edgewater, New Jersey, who for upward of a quarter of a century have been sending objects illustrating Jewish religious ceremonial and art, until the Collection in the section of historic religions in the older Museum building is perhaps without equal anywhere, have recently made another valuable and interesting addition” (cited in Mordecai Benguiat, “A Jewish Museum in America”). Ten additional objects were further noted in the article.

[102] Benguiat File, Jewish Museum.

[103] Unpublished letter among the Deinard papers. The Deinard information is all in SIA, RU 305, “Registrar, 1834–1958, with Accretions to 1976,” Box 1048, Ephraim Deinard Accession File 207992. Hereafter this will be referred to as “SIA, RU 305, Box 1048, Deinard Papers.”

[104] Cited in Benguiat, “A Jewish Museum in America.”

[105] lbid.

[106] A.S.W. Rosenbach, “The Seminary Museum,” in Cyrus Adler, ed., The Jewish Theological Seminary of America: Semi-Centennial Volume (New York: Jewish Theological Seminary, 1939), pages 144–148.

[107] Letter dated 6 July 1938 and repeated by Romanoff to Louis Finkelstein in a letter dated 3 June 1941 (Jewish Theological Seminary Archives, Ratner Collection, I A-22–39). Grossman is grateful to Richard I. Cohen for calling her attention to these letters.

[108] This is significant because there was not just collegiality but also some rivalry between Jastrow, the academician, and Adler, the practitioner. Jastrow and Adler had known each other since their childhood in Philadelphia because Rabbi Marcus Jastrow was one of those scholars with whom Adler had studied. Morris Jastrow also became an Orientalist with a specialty in Assyriology, but he took his doctorate at Leipzig (Encyclopaedia Judaica, s.v. “Jastrow”). Jastrow’s academic training is discussed in Harold S. Wechsler, “Pulpit or Professoriate: The Case of Morris Jastrow,” American Jewish History, volume 57 (1985), pages 338–355. Wechsler cites Adler’s admission, as recorded in his memoirs, that Jastrow received the professorship in Semitics at the University of Pennsylvania that Adler himself had hoped to receive (page 354).

[109] Adler, “Museum Collections,” pages 757ff. The phrase Adler quotes on “object lessons” is from Goode, “Museums of the Future,” page 427.

[110] Adler, “Museum Collections,” page 761.

[111] As discussed earlier, the development of the department of comparative religion has been given a number of different histories. In this instance, Adler wrote, “Some time before the plans for the National Museum exhibit were underway, the purpose of forming a section devoted to comparative religion had been definitely announced. It was accordingly decided to prepare a type exhibit for the World’s Fair” (Adler and Casanowicz, “The Collection of Jewish Ceremonial Objects,” page 701). Adler’s description in this talk was rather grandiose, and because all those listening were to visit the exhibition he described and were likely to be disappointed with the reality of what was displayed, Adler did cite extenuating circumstances, saying, “This exhibit suffered under limitations as to space and time for preparation” (ibid., page 761).

[112] Adler and Casanowicz, “The Collection of Jewish Ceremonial Objects,” pages 701–702. See Appendix III herein.

[113] Adler “Museum Collections,” page 761.

[114] lbid.

[115] Menorah Monthly, volume 14, number 5 (May 1893), pages 278–279.

[116] The history of the World’s Parliament of Religions is taken from an anonymous contemporary account, A History of the World’s Columbian Exposition Held in Chicago in 1893 (New York: Appleton, 1897), pages 221–231.

[117] lbid., page 223.

[118] lbid., pages 221–222.

[119] lbid., pages 224–225.

[120] The papers are all published in John Henry Barrows, ed., The World’s Parliament of Religions [An Illustrated and Popular Story of the World’s Parliament of Religions, Held in Chicago in Connection with the Columbian Exposition of 1893] (Chicago: Parliament, 1893), volume 1. John Henry Barrows was the chairman of the General Committee on Religious Congresses.

[121] Kohut did not deliver his paper in person. Alexander Kohut (1842–1894) was born in Hungary, earned his doctorate in Oriental languages at the University of Leipzig in 1865, and was ordained at the Breslau Seminary in 1867. He emigrated to the United States in 1885 to become rabbi of Congregation Ahabath Chesed in New York. Kohut, who was a central figure in the controversy between traditionalists and the Reform Movement, played a prominent role in the establishment of the Jewish Theological Seminary in New York, intended to train rabbis for the new Conservative movement (Encyclopaedia Judaica, s.v. “Kohut, Alexander”).

[122] Kaufmann Kohler (1843–1926) was born in Bavaria. Kohler trained as a rabbi, received his doctorate in 1867, and emigrated to the United States shortly thereafter. Kohler was a leader of the radical Reform movement and in 1885 convened the Pittsburgh Conference of Reform Rabbis, which adopted his platform. Kohler became president of Hebrew Union College in 1903 (Encyclopaedia Judaica, s.v. “Kohler, Kaufmann”).

[123] The blood libel accusations had begun several years earlier. Cyrus Adler wrote from Constantinople on 21 May 1891 that the Greek government was just too cowardly to take any action against the rumors and stop the persecution of Jews. He indicated that many Jews were preparing to emigrate to Turkey, where they would feel safer (Robinson, Cyrus Adler: Selected Letters, volume 1, pages 46–47).

[124] Barrows, The World’s Parliament of Religions, pages 141–142. The archbishop’s statement was reprinted in an unsigned editorial in American Hebrew, volume 53, number 24 (14 October 1893), page 734.

[125] A tentative program was listed in American Hebrew, volume LI 11, number 18 (7 September 1893), page 564. Topics included: “The Synagogue and the Church, and their Mutual Relations with Reference to their Ethical Teaching,” by Dr. Kaufmann Kohler; “Popular Errors About Jews,” by the Rev. Joseph Silverman; “Contributions of Jews to the Preservation of the Sciences of the Middle Ages,” by the Rev. S. Sale; “Reverence and Rationalism,” by Dr. M.H. Harris; and “Bible Criticism,” by Dr. E.G. Hirsch. All of these were very much in the spirit of Wissenschaft des Judentums. The Jewish papers delivered at the parliament and those delivered at the Jewish Congress were published as Judaism at the World’s Parliament of Religions (Cincinnati: Union of American Hebrew Congregations, 1894).

[126] A listing of the scheduled program was published in the American Hebrew, volume 53, number 17 (25 August 1893), page 532. The talks were published as Papers of the Jewish Women’s Congress (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 1894).

[127] Songs of Zion was compiled by the Rev. Alois Kaiser and the Rev. Wm. Sparger It was privately distributed by the National Council of Jewish Women.

[128] Grossmann’s talk was reprinted in two segments in American Hebrew, volume 53, number 23 (6 October 1893), pages 704–707, and number 24 (13 October 1893), pages 731–733. A graduate of Hebrew Union College, Louis Grossmann (born 1863) later became a professor of theology at the college (Jewish Encyclopedia, s.v. “Grossmann, Louis”).

[129] Adler, “Museum Collections,” page 761.

[130] Hannah Greenebaum Solomon (1858–1942) was the founding president of the National Council of Jewish Women, which was the successor to the Jewish Women’s Congress. She served as its president until 1905.

[131] It was reported that at one session, at which the Archbishop of Ireland spoke, there were a thousand people in attendance (American Hebrew, volume 53, number 21 (22 September 1893), page 643).

[132] Ibid., page 4. Hannah Solomon did, however, report that the most important outcome was the formation of the National Council of Jewish Women.

[133] Joseph Silverman, “Judaism at the World’s Columbian Exposition,” Mmorah Monthly, volume 14, number 5 (May 1893), pages 283–284.

[1] Adler and Casanowicz, “The Collection of Jewish Ceremonial Objects in the United States National Museum,” pages 701–702.

[2] Ibid., pages 702ff.

[3] Kohlstedt, “History in a Natural History Museum,” page 23.

[4] Ahlborn and Espinola, Russian Copper Icons, page 1.

[5] It should be stressed that there is no implication that Adler did not truly advocate the “scientific method”; certainly his perception was that a scientific approach motivated all of his endeavors. Indeed, he had been quite systematic about his acquisition of study casts of the Near Eastern antiquities, but that, of course, is a much easier task than trying to buy or borrow original objects. Also, there is substantial documentation in the Smithsonian Institution Archives of his organized approach to his endeavors as librarian of the Smithsonian and especially his involvement with the International Catalogue of Scientific Literature. Adler was the representative of the United States at the founding conference of that project in Great Britain, and he served on the Executive Committee beginning in 1903. Documents on Adler’s work as Smithsonian librarian are found in SIA, RU 31, Box 3. Included is the recommendation by Langley, dated October 1903, that Adler be named to the executive committee.

[6] In Cyrus Adler’s memo of 13 May 1892 to George Brown Goode outlining his request to mount an exhibition on religious ceremonial at the World’s Columbian Exposition, he indicated that he would need an assistant: “For the work involved in making, describing and arranging this collection it will be necessary to have some scientific assistance. I believe the services of a scientific man could be secured for $40 per month” (SIA, RU 70, Box 33). Casanowicz’s letter of appointment is dated 14 November 1892 (SIA, RU 20. Box 37, Book 3, page 39).

[7] One of the articles Casanowicz wrote was “Non-Jewish Religious Ceremonies in the Talmud,” Proceedings of the American Oriental Society, volume 16 (1894), pages LXXVI-LXXXII.

[8] Dictionary of American Biography (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1964), volume 2, page 556. Beginning in 1896 with the biblical antiquities exhibition at the Cotton States International Exposition, Casanowicz is listed as coauthor with Cyrus Adler on several of the museum catalogs related to the Judaica collection. Other catalogs coauthored by the pair include: “Descriptive Catalogue of a Collection of Objects of Jewish Ceremonial Deposited in the U.S. National Museum by Hadji Ephraim Benguiat,” 1901, and “The Collection of Jewish Ceremonial Objects in the United States National Museum,” 1908. He published two articles on Jewish amulets in the Smithsonian Collection: “Jewish Amulets in the United States National Museum,” Journal of the American Oriental Society, volume 36 (1916), pages 154–167, and “Two Jewish Amulets in the United States National Museum,” Journal of the American Oriental Society (1917), pages 43–56. His manuscript “Collections of Objects of Religious Ceremonial in the USNM” was published posthumously in the United States National Museum Bulletin, volume 148 (1929).

[9] The breadth of Casanowicz’s knowledge of religions was remarkable. Among his other publications, for example, is “A Description of the S.S. Howland Collection of Buddhist Religious Art in the National Museum,” United Slates National Museum Annual Report for 1904–1905 (Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 1906), pages 737–744.

[10] SIA, RU 201, Box 16.

[11] Immanuel M. Casanowicz, “The Collection of Oriental Antiquities at the United States National Museum,” Journal of the American Oriental Society, volume 23 (1902), pages 44–47.

[12] Adler, “Museum Collections,” page 762.

[13] Ibid., page 47.

[14] SIA, RU 158, Box 33, Folder 3, “1899–1900.”

[15] Immanuel M. Casanowicz, “Jewish Ceremonial Objects in the U.S. National Museum,” Jewish Comment, volume 16, number 18 (1903), pages 5-6.

[16] The whale bones were eventually transferred to the Division of Vertebrate Paleontology.

[17] A memorandum from Cyrus Adler regarding the cap is in accession record 11610, dated 23 July 1906, concerning a deposit made in the National Museum by Dr. Harry Friedenwald.

[18] The original newspaper clipping is in the National Anthropological Archives, Box 8-111. The reliquaries are published in I.M. Casanowicz, “Collections of Objects of Religious Ceremonial in the United States National Museum,” page 41.

[19] The Exhibit of the Smithsonian Institution at the Cotton States Exposition Atlanta, 1895 (Washington, D.C.: City of Washington, D.C., 1895) (SIA, RU 70, Box 46).

[20] Cyrus Adler and I.M. Casanowicz, “Biblical Antiquities: A Description of the Exhibit at the Cotton States International Exhibition, Atlanta, 1895,” United States National Museum Annual Report for 1896 (Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 1898), page 953.

[21] Ibid.

[22] lbid., pages 1013–1023.

[23] Report of the United States Government Exhibit at the Tennessee Centennial Exposition, Nashville, 1897 (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Government Printing Office), page 118.

[24] lbid.

[25] Adler and Casanowicz, “The Collection of Jewish Ceremonial Objects in the United States National Museum,” pages 701–746.

[26] Report on the Progress and Condition of the United States National Museum for the Year Ended June 30, 1928 (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Government Printing Office, 1928), page 30.

[1] A biographical sketch of Deinard with a listing of the books and periodicals he edited first appeared in Israel Shapiro, “Ephraim Deinard,” Publications of the American Jewish Historical Society, volume 34 (1937), pages 149–163. Simcha Berkowitz, “Ephraim Deinard (1846–1930): A Transitional Figure” (M.A. thesis, Columbia University, 1964) is the most complete biography to date on Deinard. A summary of Deinard’s contributions to the establishment of various libraries in the United States is found in Simcha Berkowitz, “Ephraim Deinard: Bibliophile and Bookman,” Studies in Bibliography and Booklore, volume 9 (spring 1971), pages 137–152. All of Deinard’s accession records are now to be found in SIA, RU 305, “Registrar, 1834–1958, with Accretions to 1976,” Box 1048, Ephraim Deinard Accession File. The accession number is 207992.

[2] Berkowitz, “Ephraim Deinard (1946–1930): A Transitional Figure,” page 46.

[3] Alexander Marx, “Jewish Libraries in America,” Menorah Journal. volume 31 (winter 1943), page 80 (cited in Berkowitz, “Ephraim Deinard (1946–1930): A Transitional Figure,” page 137).

[4] Shapiro, “Ephraim Deinard,” page 149.

[5] Ephraim Deinard, Devir Ephraim: Prospectus of the Library of Ephraim Deinard at New Orleans (St. Louis: Momesten, 1926), page 10 (cited in Berkowitz, “Ephraim Deinard: Bibliophile and Bookman,” page 137). Deinard was indeed ahead of his time; not until thirty years later, in 1912, did an expedition team organ.zed by S. An-sky, sponsored by the Jewish Historic-Ethnographic Society in St. Petersburg, go to these same remote towns and villages to document the traditional folkways of these settlements and to collect artifacts and manuscripts.

[6] The Karaites are a Jewish sect that came into being about the eighth century. Their primary doctrine is adherence solely to the Torah. The Karaites do not accept the Talmudic-rabbinic tradition (Encyclopaedia Judaica, s.v. “Karaites”).

[7] The Khazars, a Turkic nomadic people were an independent and sovereign group in eastern Europe between the seventh and tenth centuries C.E. Some of the leading Khazars professed Judaism during part of this time (Encyclopaedia Judaica, s.v. “Khazars”). The Krimchaki claim was that their history could also be traced in that region back to the Middle Ages. We wish to thank Kenneth Blady for providing additional information on the Krimchacki.

[8] According to a handwritten note by Immanuel Casanowicz on a list of items accepted at the Smithsonian from Deinard in 1927, these papers were intentionally not entered into the museum records and were to be preserved for return to the owner. The subscription book is now housed at the NMAH. The remainder of the papers are located in SIA, RU 305, Box 1048, Ephraim Deinard Accession File. Myron M. Weinstein identified the subscription book and its importance.

[9] Jewish Encyclopedia, s.v. “Strack, Hermann Leberecht.” The text of Strack s remarks appears in Ephraim Deinard, Sefer Masa′ Krim (Warsaw: n.p., 1878), page xiv.

[10] Berkowitz, “Ephraim Deinard (1946–1930): A Transitional Figure,” page 6.

[11] The section on Jewish colonization in Palestine was reprinted in a separate volume by Deinard, Se’u Nes Tsiyonah (Pressburg: n.p.. 1886).

[12] Deinard, Kohelel America (St. Louis: n.p,, 1926), volume 1, page 2 (cited in Berkowitz, “Ephraim Deinard: Bibliophile and Bookman.” page 137).

[13] All of the correspondence is in SIA, RU 305, Box 1048, Ephraim Deinard Accession File.

[14] Because Deinard had a printing press in his home, creating stationery for the groups he “represented” was likely not a problem.

[15] Berkowitz, “Ephraim Deinard (1946–1930): A Transitional Figure,” page 133.

[16] lbid., page 132.

[17] NMNH T839, no. 14. Deinard’s 1927 loan included “I lot of miscellaneous Hebrew script” to which R.A. Elder Jr., a museum technician, assigned the number 315394A in July 1955. Among these was an additional group of previously unidentified and uncatalogcd documents from the Deinard Collection, given temporary (T) numbers and housed in the Anthropology Processing Lab at NMNH. Elder had written on the envelope in which they were placed that they were to be discarded, but they remained in storage. Myron M. Weinstein, the acting head of the Hebraica Section of the Library of Congress, was asked by Richard Ahlborn to identify the 315394A documents.

[18] Encyclopaedia Judaica, s.v. “Sutro, Adolph Heinrich Joseph.” The catalog referred to is “Catalogue of the Old Hebrew and Arabic Manuscripts of the Library of the Honorable Adolph Sutro.”

[19] SIA, RU 305, Box 1048, Ephraim Deinard Accession File.

[20] Ephraim Deinard, Tselem Ba-Hekhal (New Orleans: n.p., 1926). In 1922 Joseph Klausner had published a book in Jerusalem entitled Yeshu Ha-Nozeri (Jesus of Nazareth) (Jerusalem: n.p., 1922), stressing the Jewishness of Jesus (Encyclopaedia Judaica, s.v. “Klausner, Joseph Gedaluh”). Rabbi Stephen S. Wise (1874–1949) preached a sermon at his Free Synagogue in December 1925 entitled “Jesus, the Jew.” Deinard’s attitude to Christianity and his attacks on Klausner and Wise are cited in Berkowitz, “Ephraim Deinard (1946–1930): A Transitional Figure,” pages 79–85.

[21] Sir Moses Montefiore (1784–1885) was famed for his philanthropy and social action on behalf of his coreligionists in Great Britain and his aid to Jewish communities in Eretz Yisrael, Morocco, Syria, Russia, and Romania (Encyclopaedia Judaica, s.v. “Montefiore, Sir Moses”). Isaac Adolphe Crémieux (1796–1880) was a French lawyer and statesman known as a defender of Jewish rights, both in France and abroad. He was president of the Alliance Israelite Universelle, which was founded in 1860 (Encyclopaedia Judaica, s.v. “Cremieux, Isaac Adolphe”).

[22] Damascus marriage contracts obtained from Deinard are to be found in the Jewish Theological Seminary Library; memorial plaques obtained from him are in the Library of Congress; and sukkah panel:; obtained from him are at the Jewish Museum in New York.

[23] Cited in Berkowitz, “Ephraim Deinard (1946–1930): A Transitional Figure,” page 24.

[24] Deinard, A History of the Jewish Settlement at Kearny-Arlington, N.J., pages 17–18 (cited in Berkowitz, “Ephraim Deinard: Bibliophile and Bookman,” page 147).

[25] Berkowitz, “Ephraim Deinard: Bibliophile and Bookman,” page 147.

[26] Cited in Marx, “The Library.”

[27] lbid.

[28] According to correspondence from the Jewish Museum, only 15 of the objects can be identified at this time. These items, accession numbers S501-S515, include two nineteenth-century Torah cases. Because Sulzberger bought most of his books from Deinard and there was no one else selling Judaica in the United States at that time, it seems likely that Sulzberger bought them from Deinard. Also, the Torah cases are similar to ones among the Deinard items in the Smithsonian’s collection.

[29] SIA, RU 305, Box 1048, Ephraim Deinard Accession File.

[30] lbid.

[31] Alexander Marx, Studies in Jewish History and Booklore (New York, Jewish Theological Seminary, 1944), page 234.

[32] Ephraim Deinard, Or Mayer: A Catalogue of Old Hebrew Manuscripts and Printed Books of the Hon. M. Sulzberger of Philadelphia (New York: J. Aronson, 1896).

[33] Herman Dicker, ed.. The Mayer Sulzherger-Alexander Marx Correspondence, 1904–1923 (New York: Sepher-Hermon, 1990), page 47, letter S-84. In a letter dated 19 December 1910, Sulzberger wrote Marx, “I am glad that the hurly-burly purchase from Deinard turns out to your satisfaction. I confess I had some doubts.”

[34] The acquisition of a collection from Deinard for the Library of Congress is described in Myron M. Weinstein, “The First Deinard Collection of the Library of Congress,” unpublished paper presented at a symposium marking the exhibition “From the Ends of the Earth: Judaic Treasures of the Library of Congress,” 1991. Myron Weinstein was good enough to share the paper with Grossman. Professor Abraham J. Karp curated the exhibition and authored the catalog that documents the exhibition.

[35] Deinard became a member of the American Oriental Society in March of 1894 and remained active for only three years, until May 1897 (Berkowitz, “Ephraim Deinard: Bibliophile and Bookman,” page 145).

[36] lbid.

[37] Cited in Cohen, Encounter with Emancipation, page 208.

[38] Ibid.

[39] Weinstein, “The First Deinard Collection,” pages 7ff.

[40] lbid., page 9.

[41] lbid., page 16.

[42] Robinson, Cyrus Adler: Selected Papers, volume 1, pages 209–212.

[43] Alexander Marx collection, among the Deinard papers at the Jewish Theological Seminary (cited in Berkowitz, “Ephraim Deinard: Bibliophile and Bookman,” page 139).

[44] Deinard, Koheleth America, part 1, page 6 (cited in Berkowitz, “Ephraim Deinard (1946–1930): A Transitional Figure,” page 36).

[45] The letter is in the Alexander Marx-Mayer Sulzberger file of the papers of Ephraim Deinard (cited in Berkowitz, “Ephraim Deinard: Bibliophile and Bookman,” pages 140ff.). This file is located at the Jewish Theological Seminary. Myron M. Weinstein alerted Grossman to the microfilm of this Hebrew letter, which contains some additional details not quoted by Berkowitz. The Washington Haggadah was reproduced in a facsimile volume in honor of the 75th anniversary of the Library of Congress Judaica collection. Myron M. Weinstein wrote the introduction in the commentary volume (“Introduction,” in The Commentary Volume to the Washington Haggadah (Washington, D.C.: Library of Congress, 1991). pages 3-25.

[46] SIA, RU 305, Box 1048, Ephraim Deinard Accession File. The original accession number was 39909.

[47] SIA, RU 305, Box 1048, Ephraim Deinard Accession File. The undated Hebrew letter was received at the Smithsonian on 28 January 1913. The translation is an abstract of Deinard’s letter by Casanowicz.

[48] Adolph Lewisohn (1849–1938) was an industrialist and philanthropist. He arrived in the United States from Hamburg in 1867. With his brothers Samuel and Julius, he established a firm that was a pioneer in copper mining in the United States and dealt in copper and lead worldwide. Among other civic activities, Adolph Lewisohn was president of the Hebrew Sheltering Guardian Society for over 30 years (Encyclopaedia Judaica, s.v. “Lewisohn”).

[49] SIA, RU 305, Box 1048, Ephraim Deinard Accession File. The undated Hebrew letter was received at the Smithsonian on 28 January 1913. The translation is an abstract of Deinard’s letter by Casanowicz.

[50] Apparently a major collection of coins had been offered to the Smithsonian about 10 years earlier. At the time that collection was appraised for $17,500, a price Jacob Schiff would have paid to bring the collection to the United States and present it to the National Museum. The owner stayed firm at his asking price, and Adler lost out to the British Museum.

[51] Though he added that Schiff was about to leave the country for a six-month trip to the Orient.

[52] SIA, RU 305, Box 1048, Ephraim Deinard Accession File.

[53] Ibid.

[54] The caveat is underlined, apparently by Casanowicz. This conclusion is based on the fact that certain passages of other letters in this correspondence directed to Casanowicz are similarly highlighted.

[55] SIA, RU 305, Box 1048, Ephraim Deinard Accession File. Though Deinard never did send a list to the Smithsonian in 1913, several years later he published Devir Ephraim, in which he included, as stated on the title page, “A List of Jewish Antiquities, Depicting the History of Religion’ on Exhibition at the Smithsonian Institution at Washington, D.C. and at New Orleans, Louisiana.”

[56] William Henry Holmes (1846–1933) was a pioneer in developing new more scientifically based archaeological methods in America. He did not have a particular interest or expertise in Old World archaeology or historic religions, although he supervised those sections as chair of the Department of Anthropology.

[57] SIA, RU 305, Box 1048, Ephraim Deinard Accession File.

[58] lbid.

[59] Specifically, he mentions the architect Arnold Brunner, whom Adler had mentioned in his earlier letter of 30 January 1913 as being the best way of reaching Lewisohn.

[60] In Adler’s draft, Casanowicz added a handwritten note at this point: “and now President of the Dropsie College for Hebrew and Cognate Learning, Phila, Pa.”

[61] SIA, RU 305, Box 1048, Ephraim Deinard Accession File.

[62] Ibid.

[63] From the first memo from Geare to Rathbun on June 16 after Lewisohn’s letter was received. SIA, RU 305, Box 1048, Ephraim Deinard Accession File.

[64] SIA, RU 305, Box 1048, Ephraim Deinard Accession File.

[65] Mendel Silber, “Introduction,” in Devir Ephraim, pages iii-iv.

[66] SIA, RU 305, Box 1048, Ephraim Deinard Accession File.

[1] Virgil M. Hillyer was headmaster of the Calvert School in Baltimore (A. Hart, Calvert and Hillyer (Baltimore: Calvert School, 1947)).

[2] Hillyer was a member of the Harvard class of 1857. See Virgil M. Hillyer, “Aladdin’s Lamp and Some Others,” Harvard University Alumni Bulletin, volume 21 (19 June 1919), page 37.

[3] NMAH 377032 and 377033.

[4] Telephone conversation between Richard Ahlborn and C. Malcolm Watkins, 19 October 1995.

[5] In the telephone conversation with Richard Ahlborn in October 1995, Malcolm Watkins confirmed that there was no particular plan regarding the ludaica.

[6] Eugene 1. Knez Papers: Series 1 and 2, 1959–1978, National Anthropological Archives, Smithsonian Institution.

[7] Telephone conversation between Richard Ahlborn and Eugene Knez. 31 October 1995.

[8] The accession records indicate that the gift was donated by Dr. and Mrs. Abram Kanof. Mrs. Kanof used her own name, Dr. Frances Pascher, professionally. The objects have catalog numbers NMNH 402932–402939.

[9] Dr. Abram Kanof to Grace Cohen Grossman, December 1989, in response to an inquiry about the history of his gift. This information is in the Kanof accession record, number 256783.

[10] Letter in the Kanof accession record, number 256783.

[11] The exhibit was on view at the National Museum of Natural History from 1965 to 1994.

[12] From the memorial dedication to Casanowicz in Immanuel M. Casanowicz, “Collections of Objects of Religious Ceremonial in the U.S. National Museum,” United States National Museum Bulletin, number 148 (31 December 1929), page iii.

[13] Several items of Judaica had incidentally been acquired by the Victoria and Albert Museum in London as early as 1855, but there was no plan to collect Judaica (M. Keen Jewish Ritual Art in the Victoria and Albert Museum (London: HMSO, 1991), page 6).

[14] Berkowitz, “Ephraim Deinard: Bibliophile and Bookman,” page 151. This information was written in a letter to Berkowitz from S.H. Riesenberg, then curator of ethnology. Riesenberg also wrote, “Parts of these five collections were placed on exhibit in Hall 8 of the natural History Building in 1926 or 1927 and remained there until 1960, when the Hall was dismantled for renovation. All of the Deinard materials are now housed in our study collections and there are no plans at present to place them on exhibit again.”

[15] S. Dillon Ripley, “Foreword,” in P.C. Marzio, ed., A Nation of Nations: The People Who Came to America as Seen Through Objects, Prints, and Photographs at the Smithsonian Institution (New York: Harper and Row, 1976), page xiii. Writing this in 1995, it is interesting to reflect how the cultural politics of race and ethnicity, but not of gender, had become a major factor by 1976.

[16] Lloyd Herman, “Introduction,” in Smithsonian Institution, Renwick Gallery and Office of Folklife Programs, Celebration: A World of Art and Ritual (Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1982), page 7.

[17] Ibid., page 9.

[18] A.R. Cohn and L.A. Leach, eds., Generations: A Universal Family Album (New York: Pantheon, 1987).

[19] Because the focus of the project was ceremonial and ethnographic Judaica, certain categories of objects were not included in the Judaica catalog. These include archaeological artifacts, fine arts, and numismatics. The Adler classification plan had excluded objects of American Judaica except for ceremonial objects. He considered secular objects to be the bailiwick of the American Jewish Historical Society, which he helped to found in 1892. However, as part of the overall survey of Judaica begun at the Smithsonian in 1974, selected secular objects that reflect the American Jewish cultural experience were recorded, although they were not fully cataloged according to the International Index of Jewish Art system. These objects are all in the collections of the National Museum of American History.

[20] A complete listing of their names appears in the acknowledgments.

[21] The advocacy role of the United States Holncaust Memorial museum as a “voice of morality” is discussed in Jeshajahu Weinberg and Rina Elieli, The Holocaust Museum in Washington (New York: Rizzoli, 1995), page 174.

[1] T.D.A. Cockerell, “Spencer Fullerton Baird” (cited in Hinsley, Savages and Scientists, page 85, and in Rivinus and Youssef, Spencer Baird of the Smithsonian, page 188).

[2] Hinsley, Savages and Scientists, page 262.

[3] Goode, The Smithsonian Institution, page 335.

[4] This version of his statement, first articulated in his seminal address “Museums of the Future,” is cited in Goode, First Draft of a System of Classification for the World’s Columbian Exposition.

[5] The description of Peabody is found in Herbst, The German Historical School in American Scholarship, pages 94–96. See also Harvard University Archives, Boxes HUG 1676.582 and HUG 1676.582.2, “Letters to and Letters from Francis Greenwood Peabody Concerning the Social Science Exhibit.” Additional information can be found in UAV 800.157, “Social Ethics Department, Social Museum” (two boxes).

[6] Letter, 10 February 1891, JTS, Adler Papers, Box 1/18.

[7] As cited earlier from Dr. Hermann Adler. “The Anglo-Jewish Historical Exhibition,” Jewish Chronicle, 22 April 1887, page 9.

[8] Adler later wrote that this effort was, in fact, a renewal of a plan that originally had been proposed in 1886 by the Reverend Abram S. Isaacs to prepare for the 1892 celebrations a history of the part Jews had played in the discovery and settlement of America. In 1888 Dr. B. Felsenthal encouraged Adler to form a Jewish Historical Society. In 1890 Adler prepared a draft circular to be sent out announcing the formation of a Society, but his trip delayed his plans. See Cyrus Adler, “The American Jewish Historical Society,” Publications of the American Jewish Historical Society, volume XXVI (1918) (reprinted in Adler, Lectures, page 189).

[9] Adler, Lectures, pages 190–191.

[10] lbid., page 198. According to Naomi Cohen, the formation of the American Jewish Historical Society was partly in response to anti-Semitic propaganda in Europe (Cohen, “American Jewish Reactions to Anti-Semitism,” page 56). No doubt Adler’s trip through Europe, where he met many Jewish leaders, was a factor in prompting him to establish the society as soon as possible after his return.

[11] Letter from Michael Fooner to Myron M. Weinstein, 1 September 1988, and a follow-up letter from Fooner to Grace Cohen Grossman on 13 November 1988. Fooner eventually did write an article on an Esther scroll, NMNH 315395, which was published in the March 1936 issue of Opinion. Thanks to Myron Weinstein for providing Grossman with a copy of the letter sent to him by Michael Fooner.

[12] A museum was established as part of the Library of Hebrew Union College in 1913.

[13] The Jewish Cultural Reconstruction, Inc. (JCR). founded by Professor Salo Baron of Columbia University, was the agency empowered by the United States State Department to identify and redistribute heirless Jewish property after the Holocaust. The JCR was an independent organization that garnered the broad-based support of other Jewish organizations.

[14] Letter in the Kanof accession file 256783.

[15] For a general history of Jewish museums in the United States, see A.M. Greenwald, “Jewish Museums,” in Encyclopaedia Judaica Yearbook, 1988–89, pages 167–181. In this same volume, E. Van Voolen’s article “Jewish Museums in Europe” discusses the post-World War II situation for Jewish museums in Europe (pages 182–188). For a general thematic summary of the history of Jewish Museums in the United States and their status today, see R.R. Seldin, “American Jewish Museums: Trends and Issues,” in American Jewish Year Book, volume 91 (1991), pages 71–113.

[1] Abraham A. Neuman, Cyrus Adler: A Biographical Sketch (New York: American Jewish Committee, 1942), page 31. The installation of the exhibition is also documented in the annual report of the Section of Oriental Antiquities, 1889 (SIA, RU 158, Box 5, Folder 2).

[2] Accession 25947 includes, for example, a dumbelek, a stringed instrument from Cairo, and a zaida, a bagpipe from Tunis.

[3] One of the photographs in the exhibition catalog includes the shofar, a halil, a flute (cat. no. 95695), and reeds or pan pipes (cat. no. 95795). With the exception of the shofar, all were collected by G. Brown Goode and were acquired from the Near East.

[1] An example of a fourteenth-century star-shaped lamp in the collection of the Jewish Museum in New York (cat. no. JM 200–67) is described in Norman L. Kleeblatt and Vivian B. Mann, Treasures of the Jewish Museum, page 30. There is a fragment of a similar lamp in the Kirschstein Collection of the Hebrew Union College Skirball Museum (cat. no. 33.1).

[1] S. Landau, Architecture in the Hanukkah Lamp (Jerusalem: Israel Museum, 1978), pages 7ff., no. 20; see also Aviva Müller-Lancet, ed., La vie juive au Maroc. no. 75, and M. Narkiss, The Hanukkah Lamp (Jerusalem: Bney Bezalel, 1939), no. 153.

[2] Documents on Williams’s travel in Morocco and his acquisitions are in accession file 23736. The letter from Adler to Langley is in SIA, RU 31, “Office of the Secretary, 1891–1906, Incoming Correspondence,” Box 3.

[1] For a similar example, see the Sotheby’s catalog Important Judaica, Tel Aviv, 28 April 1992, no. 380.

[1] Letter to Friedenwald from G. Brown Goode, SIA, RU 201, Box 11.

[1] An eighteenth-century omer calendar from Philadelphia in the collection of Congregation Mikveh Israel in Philadelphia also has the letters H, S, and D. See Kenneth Libo and Leorah Kroyanker, In the Footsteps of Columbus: Jews in America, 1654–1880 (Tel Aviv: Beth Hatefusoth, 1986–1987).

[2] The omer calendar in the Jewish Museum has cat. no. S515. Both the Mikveh Israel and Jewish Museum omer calendars are in glass-fronted wooden cabinets, which facilitated the changing of the date. As the Smithsonian’s calendar is framed, its use would have been more difficult.

[1] SIA, RU 201, “Assistant Secretary in Charge of the U.S. National Museum, 1875–1902,” Box 11.

[1] From Frankfurter Konversationsblatt (1860), number 74, cited in Hans-Peter Schwartz, Die Architektur der Synagoge (Frankfurt am Main: Deutsches Architekturmuseum, 1989), page 371. Paul Kester translated the relevant information for this volume.

[1] An eighteenth-century double cup from Augsburg in the collection of the Hebrew Union College Skirball Museum bears inscriptions indicating those functions, as do double cups depicted in Barnett. Catalogue of the Permanent and Loan Collections of the Jewish Museum, London, nos. 490 and 490A, and a double cup in the Kestner Museum, Hanover, cited in K. Schilling, ed., Monumenta Judaica: 2000 Jahre Geschichte und Kultur der Juden am Rhein (Köln: Kölnischen Stadtmuseum, 1963), no. E133, and in C. Benjamin, The Stieglitz Collection: Masterpieces of Jewish Art, translated by M. Jagendorf (Jerusalem: Israel Museum, 1982), no. 208.

[1] Accession 25819, entered July 1892, with catalog numbers 152226–152250 and 154312; accession 25771, with catalog number 153893. Items with catalog numbers 152226–152250 were transferred to NMAH.

[2] For a discussion of the development of illustrated marriage contract; in Italy, see S. Sabar, Ketubbah: Jewish Marriage Contracts of Hebrew Union College Skirball Museum and Klau Library (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 1990), pages 21ff.

[3] Ibid., pages 146–147.

[1] Joshua Gershon Ashkenazi signed as a witness on two of the other ketubbot at the Smithsonian, cat. nos. NMAH 154331 and NMAH 154333. He was also a signatory on a ketubbah dated 1813 in the collection of the Hebrew Union College Skirball Museum (cat. no. 34.99).

[1] Sabar, Ketubbah, page 148.

[1] Bathya Bayer, of the Music Department and National Sound Archives, Jewish National and University Archives, made the attribution to Rabbi Anav and analyzed the two copies of the Simhat Torah poem. Anav was a rabbi and teacher in the children’s school of the Jewish community in Rome (letter from Bayer to Richard Ahlborn, 15 June 1971; the letter is in the Judaica research files in the NMAH Division of Community Life).

[2] Bathya Bayer indicated that a number of seventeenth- and eighteenth-century cantatas for those honored on Simhat Torah are known.

[3] A similar motif, consisting of a cock, facing left, atop three stones, found on an 1813 ketubbah from Rome in the Hebrew Union College Skirball Museum (cat. no. 34.99), has been identified as a family emblem of the di Cave family (Sabar, Ketubbah, page 151).

[4] This manuscript is British Museum ms. ad. 27203.

[1]Jewish Encyclopedia, s.v. “Henry Cohen”; Encyclopaedia Judaica, s.v. “Henry Cohen (1863–1952).”

[2]Jewish Encyclopedia, s.v. “Beni-Israel.” This article was written by Joseph Ezekiel.

[3]Encyclopaedia Judaica, s.v. “Joseph Ezekiel Rajpurkar.”

[1] Esther Juhasz, “Textiles for the Home and Synagogue,” in E. Juhasz, ed., Sephardi Jews in the Ottoman Empire (Jerusalem: Israel Museum, 1990), pages 69ff.

[2] Ibid., page 80.

[1] The Pact of ‘Umar was established by ‘Umar ibn al-Khaāb, caliph (634–644) of the Sunni line of the caliphate. The text that is known is from a century later, from ‘Umar ibn Abd al-Aziz (710–720). A translation from the nineteenth century is found in N. Stillman, The Jews of Arab Lands: A History and Source Book (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 1979), pages 157–158; see also page 25.

[2]Dhimma is Arabic for the relationship between the protector and the protected dhimmi. It established the legal status of the ahl al-kitab. the ‘‘people of the book,” Jews and Christians, who agreed to live under its protection (Encyclopaedia Judaica. s.v. “Dhimma ”).

[3] Clothing was a sign of social status. For example, the turban (“imãma) became known as the “crown of the Arabs,” tãj al-‘arab (Stillman, The Jews of Arab Lands), page 157.

[4]Encyclopaedia Judaica. s.v. “Dhimma.” The discriminatory signs, ghiyar, worn by non-Muslims are considered the most characteristic way of imposing legal restrictions on nonbelievers.

[5] A. Rubens, A History of Jewish Costume, second edition (London: George Weidenfeld and Nicolson), figure 48.

[1] A survey of objects of this type is found in Y. Fisher, ed., Omanut ve-Umanut be-Eretz Yisrael ba-M′ah ha-19 (Jerusalem: Israel Museum, 1979).

[1] An article on Marcus entitled “The Fabulous Marcus the Africaner” was written by Mignon Rabinovitz, whose husband served as rabbi at Mishkan Tefila. This article is in the Smithsonian Institution Archives, Judaica Reference File.

[2] Other ceremonial items dedicated by Marcus include a Torah shield and omer calendar currently at the Touro Synagogue in Newport, Rhode Island, and an omer calendar currently at the Jewish Museum in New York. The circumstances of the acquisition of these objects is not known. The objects at the Touro Synagogue were located by Martha B. Katz-Hyman in 1981 as part of a research project at the American Jewish Historical Society.

[3] An identical shield and a pair of Torah finials surfaced in Boston during World War II, when they were donated to the Russian Relief Committee. Apparently they had been acquired in the 1890s by a non-Jew whose daughter found them stored in an attic and donated them to the relief fund. This set of Torah ornaments, returned to the possession of Mishkan Tefila in Boston, was subsequently stolen. A third shield, which became the property of a London synagogue, is in the collection of the Hebrew Union College Skirball Museum (HUCSM 7.28).

[1] Compare Torah shields of the same period as illustrated in Juhasz, Sephardi Jews in the Ottoman Empire, nos. 32, 33, 35.

[2] SIA, RU 201, Box 11, Folder 6.

[1] Carole Herselle Krinsky, Synagogues of Europe: Architecture, History, Meaning (Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 1985), pages 363–364.

[1] Rachel Wischnitzer, The Architecture of the European Synagogue (Philadelphia Jewish Publication Society, 1964), page 21.

[1] Wischnitzer, The Architecture of the European Synagogue, page 197.

[1] Wischnitzer, The Architecture of the European Synagogue, page 167.

[1] Wischnitzer, The Architecture of the European Synagogue, page 209.

[1] Barnett, Catalogue of the Permanent and Loan Collections of the Jewish Museum, London, page 5.

[1] A draft of a letter from Adler to Theodor Herzl, the founder of the World Zionist Organization, just prior to the First Zionist Congress in 1897 expresses his view and his willingness to be helpful to Herzl if he would consider “the notion of colonizing either in Syria or Mesopotamia” (Robinson, Cyrus Adler: Selected Letters, volume 1, pages 73–75).

[1] The five standard clauses are listed in Sabar, Ketubbah, page 109.

[2] Immanuel Casanowicz, “A Description of the S.S. Howland Collection.”

[1] Landau, Architecture in the Hanukkah Lamp, page 8, figure 27. In her discussion of the architectural models, Landau cites the Church of San Andrea in Mantua as a paradigm.

[1] Rabbi Meir Ba’al HaNes was a second-century scholar (tanna), a student of Rabbi Akiva, and the husband of the learned Beruriah. He traveled widely, and it was he who expressed the concept “When in Rome, do as the Romans do” (Genesis Rabbah XLVIII). His tomb, near Tiberias, became known as a site of miraculous deeds.

[2] Rabbi Simeon Bar Yochai was a second-century scholar, one of the five students of Rabbi Akiva who survived the Bar Kochba revolt. According to tradition, he was buried in Meron, and a popular festival is held there each Lag B’Omer.

[3] A.L. Levin, Vision: A Biography of Dr. Harry Friedenwald (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 1964), pages 138–140.

[1] The primary source for Pike’s history is Mark C. Carnes, Secret Ritual and Manhood in Victorian America (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1989), pages 134ff: 1 am grateful to David Shayt for making the discovery about Albert Pike. There are a number of mizras that were made in the United States in the second half of the nineteenth century that incorporate Masonic symbols; these, however, have a known Jewish provenance. See Alice M. Greenwald, “The Masonic Mizra and Lamp: Ritual Art as a Reflection of Cultural Assimilation Journal of Jewish Art, volume 10(1984), pages 87–101.

[2] in heavy ink at the bottom of the Mizra is “Copyright 1890 by A. Pike,” apparently added so printed copies could be made.

[1] For several examples, see N.L. Kleeblatt and G. Wertkin, The Jewish Heritage in American Folk Art (New York: Jewish Museum and Museum of American Folk Art, 1986), nos. 26, 38, 46, 49, 51, 60, and 61.

[2] Casanowicz, “Collections of Objects of Religious Ceremonial in the U.S. National Museum,” no. 68.

[3] Information on Henry S. Hartogensis is from Isidor Blum, The Jews of Baltimore (Baltimore: Historical Review Publishing Co., 1910), pages 281–285, and Matthew Page Andrews, Tercentenary History of Maryland, volume 3 (Chicago: S.J. Clarke Publishing Co., 1925), page 512.

[1] L. Avrin, Micrography as Art (published in one volume with C. Sirat, La lettre hébraïque et sa signification (Paris: Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique, 1981)), pages 43–63, gives a succinct history and techniques of micrography in Jewish art.

[2] Ibid., no. 95b.

[1] The Warshaw Collection in the National Archives Center contains two contemporaneous items from Purim balls: a program, the “Purim Gazette,” from an event held at the Metropolitan Opera House in New York on 10 March 1887, sponsored by the Young Men’s Association of Temple Beth El; and a ticket for a charity ball in aid of the Home for Aged and Infirm Hebrews, under the management of the Purim Association, also held at the Metropolitan Opera House, on 28 February 1888. For several other examples from this period, see also S. Epstein, ed., Purim: The Face and the Mask (New York: Yeshiva University museum. 1979), nos. 274–278.

[1] A similar monogram is found on NMAH 130299.

[1] C. Roth, ed., Jewish Art: An Illustrated History, revised by B. Narkiss (Greenwich, Connecticut: New York Graphic Society, 1971), page 120.

[2] S.D. Gotein, “The Synagogue Building and Its Furnishings According to the Records of the Cairo Genizah,” Eretz-Israel, volume 7 (1964), pages 79–97 (Hebrew).

[3] Included among the 25 items given by Mayer Sulzberger to the Jewish Theological Seminary Library in 1904 were two tiqim, which were identified as being from North Africa; S503 has an inscription with an 1820 date, and S508 has a date of 1832–1833. Like the Smithsonian’s Torah case both of these are 12-sided and are made of wood with gesso, paint, and gilt. It is not known where or how Sulzberger acquired these tiqim, but it is certainly possible that they were purchased from Deinard.

[4] Vivian B. Mann, ed., Gardens and Ghettos: The Art of Jewish Life in Italy (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1989), no. 121, and Klagsbald, Catalogue raisonné de la collection juive du Musée de Cluny, no. 122. It is possible that this tiq may have been made in Italy for use in North Africa.

[1] Listed in A. Yaari, Bibliographia shel haggadot pesah (Jerusalem: Bamberger and Vahrman, 1960), no. 381.

[1] See S. Makover, “The Iconographic Program of a Series of Italian Sukkah Decorations,” in Proceedings of the Ninth World Congress of Jewish Studies (Jerusalem: World Union of Jewish Studies, 1985), page 38.

[2] One group is clearly distinct from the rest in medium and style. The artist and calligrapher of a second series has been identified as Israel David Luzzatto from Trieste; items with catalog numbers NMAH 333966G, H, I, J, K, and 0 are part of a set, with a single panel in the Jewish Museum in New York (S256), which includes an inscription identifying Luzzatto (Kleeblatt and Mann, Treasures of the Jewish Museum, pages 86–87).

[3] Makover, “The Iconographic Program,” page 39.

[4] David Cassutto, long associated with the Italian Jewish Museum in Jerusalem, reviewed the photographs of the sukkah panels and made this observation.

[1] The observation is from Makover, “The Iconographic Program,” page 42.

[2] This sukkah panel is described in comparison to the Smithsonian panel NMAH 217679 in Mann, Gardens and Ghettos, no. 109.

[3] New York Jewish Museum, Gardens and Ghettos, no. 108, pages 260ff. 3abnel Goldstein, author of the catalog entry on the New York panel, conjectures that because there are panels in this group with the Song of Songs (NMAH 217680), read on Passover and the Book of Ruth (S1443), read on Shavuot, as well as Ecclesiastes (NMAH 217679), read on Sukkot, there may originally have been other panels with texts from the other megillot (scrolls), Esther and Lamentations. In developing his theory, Goldstein overlooked the text of the third panel with the same program (RSN 82631Z01), which quotes Proverbs and not one of the megillot.

[1]Because these sukkah panels are in very poor condition, the images and inscriptions are visible on only a few of them.

[2] The original catalog numbering of the panels was apparently done at random, and they have been reordered here to follow the proper sequence.

[1]The attribution was made by Vivian Mann in Kleeblatt and Mann, Treasures of the Jewish Museum page 86. The catalog number of this panel in the Jewish Museum is S256.

[1] Adler and Casanowicz, “The Collection of Jewish Ceremonial Objects in the United States National Museum,” pages 711–712.

[1] T. Schrire, Hebrew Magic Amulets: Their Decipherment and Interpretation, second edition (New York: Behrman House, 1982), pages 91–92.

[2] There are various correspondence files maintained at the Smithsonian Institution Archives, and the few extant Casanowicz research files are in the National Anthropology Archives.

[3] Immanuel Casanowicz. “Jewish Amulets in the United States National Museum,” Journal of the American Oriental Society, volume 36(1916), pages 154–167, and “Two Jewish Amulets in the United States National Museum,” Journal of the American Oriental Society, volume 37 (1917), pages 43–56.

[1] A complete translation of this amulet was prepared by Nathan Snyder in 1976.

[1] For similar examples of folk-art amulets from North Africa, see A. Müller-Lancet, La vie juif au Maroc, nos. 82–84.

[2] This amulet was deciphered by Nathan Snyder in 1976.

[3] Schrire, Hebrew Magic Amulets, pages 114–115.

[1] See Daniel M. Friedenberg, “Now Rest in Peace Jacob Baruch Caravalho: The Three-Century Diaspora of a Jewish Portrait,” Jewish Art, volume 14 (1988), pages 56–63. In a letter written on 12 May 1989 to Elizabeth Kessin Berman, Friederberg indicates that, following the Sephardic custom of keeping the same name in families, Jacob Hai and Jacob Baruch may have been from the same family line. The letter is in the Judaica Reference File at the National Museum of American History.

[1] The first article Adler wrote for a Smithsonian publication was a study of the history of the shofar. Cyrus Adler, “The Shofar: Its Use and Origin, United States National Museum Annual Report for 1891–1892 (Washington, D.C.. Government Printing Office, 1894), pages 437–450.

[1] For a discussion of the punto scritto technique, see Cissy Grossman, “Womanly Arts: A Study of Italian Torah Binders in the New York Jewish Museum,” Journal of Jewish Art, volume 7 (1980), pages 35–43.

[1] SIA, RU 305, “Registrar, 1834–1958, with Accretions to 1976,” Box 1048.

[2] Mann, Gardens and Ghettos, no. 129. In identifying the curved form of the trumpets as being typical of the seventeenth century, Vivian Mann cites Jeremy Montagu, The World of Baroque and Classical Musical Instruments (Woodstock, N.Y.: 1979), figs. 46, 47.

[1] Three examples of a similar type of elaborately carved Italian chair of Elijah are known, attributed by Vivian Mann to northern Italy (cited in Mann, Gardens and Ghettos, page 267).

[2] Two circumcision chairs were included in the 1920 Deinard accession. A letter dated 22 May 1920 from Casanowicz to W.H. Holmes, head curator of the Department of Anthropology, indicates that Casanowicz intended to place the chairs in the rotunda (SIA, RU 305, “Registrar, 1834–1958, with Accretions to 1976,” Box 1048).

[1] This information is excerpled from a history of the Jewish community and a description of the Conegliano synagogue by David Cassuto, “The Synagogue of Conegliano Veneto,” Ariel, volume 59 (1985), pages 68–81.

[2] Encyclopaedia Judaica, s.v. “Conegliano.”

[1] Schrire, Hebrew Magic Amulets, page 114.

[1] Franz Alexander is identified in Waltraud Neuwirth, Lexikon Wiener Gold-und Silberschmiede und Ihre Punzen, 1867–1922 (Vienna, 1976), page 74. We are grateful lo Bill Gross for identifying the maker.

[1] Similar examples in the collection of the Israel Museum are still identified as being from nineteenth-century North Africa or Eretz Yisrael. See Fishof, From the Secular to the Sacred: Everyday Objects in Jewish Ritual Use, page 84, nos. 52.1 and 52.11.

[2] A number of scholars have analyzed the situation. Rafi Grafman, former curator of Judaica at the Israel Museum in Jerusalem, makes the identification with the Mughrabi community but is skeptical about many of the pieces. His consultation was critical in analyzing this entire group of objects. Bracha Yaniv, of Bar llan University, who conducted the surveys on synagogue ceremonial objects in Israel on behalf of the Centre for Jewish Art of Hebrew University, was unable to locate any parallel examples still in use (pers. comm. with Grossman, 1991).

[3] NMNH 315288, NMNH 315289, NMNH 315298, NMNH 315301-NMNH 315303, and some fragments numbered NMNH 315304 and NMNH 315289, which are similar to these as well, do not have the entire inscription.

[4] The shaweh is described in Yedida Kalfon Stillman, Palestinian Costume and Jewelry (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 1979), page 39.

[5] NMNH 315281, NMNH 315291–315296, NMNH 315299, and NMNH 315300.

[6] The “wedding knives,” NMNH 315356 and NMNH 315357, seem to have their origin in European fish knives. The necklace with catalog number NMNH 315342 is based on a common type, a torque hung with pendants, but this example seems to be entirely invented and was never worn.

[7] For example, a Hanukkah lamp with catalog number NMNH 315249.

[8] For example, NMNH 315359, NMNH 315370, NMNH 315380, and NMNH 332154.

[9] For example, NMNH 315312.

[10] NMNH 315286, NMNH 315287, and NMNH 315290.

[11] For typical Yemenite rimmonim, see, for example, G.C. Grossman, ed., The Jews of Yemen (Chicago Maurice Spertus Museum of Judaica, 1976), no. 3.

[12] NMNH 315342–315346.

[1] Barnett, Catalogue of the Permanent and Loan Collectinos of the Jewish Museum, London, no. 239. A similar lamp, also marked AG, was recently offered at auction; it is included in the 1993 Christie’s catalog Important Dutch and Foreign Silver, Judaica, Icons, Russian Works of Art, and Objects of Virtue, page 655. Barnett identifies the maker as Albertus Gartner of Berlin. Rafi Grafman thinks it is much more likely that the maker was August Ferdinand Gentzmer, who was active in Berlin between 1788 and 1802.

[1] NMAH 315280, NMAH 315282, NMAH 1981.2106.3A.B (formerly NMAH 315825), and NMNH 315307.

[1] Rafi Grafman made this observation.

[2] A Hanukkah lamp made by the same artist or workshop is in a private collection in Europe It does not have an identifying plaque.

[1] If the name of God is written in a book or on a ritual object, that item cannot be destroyed. A genizah is a storage place for items that have become unfit for ritual use. Usually the genizah was part of a synagogue. A geniza was also a general depository for old documents. Deinard’s discovery is discussed in Simcha Berkowitz, “Ephraim Deinard (1846–1930): A Transitional Figure,” page 5. Berkowitz cites as a reference David Tidhar, European Encyclopedia of Pioneers of the Jewish Settlement in Palestine (in Hebrew), volume 3, page 1448. No primary source is known.

[2] In fact, until 1974, when Myron M. Weinstein, of the Library of Congress Hebraica Section, began research on them, the ketubbot remained in the sack they had been in since they arrived at the Smithsonian in the 1920s. The marriage contracts are in very poor condition, and this may explain Deinard’s claim. The script of the contracts is quite difficult to read; Weinstein identified the names of the parties and the dates on the ketubbot.

[3] Jewish Theological Seminary, nos. 158 and 165. Jewish Theological Seminary, Register, 1921–1922, page 18. Evelyn Cohen located these ketubbot and found the connection to Deinard.

[4] A “standard” Damascus ketubbah text dated the 21st of Shevat 5466 (5 February 1706) was published by Deinard in his book Shibolim Bodedot (Jerusalem, 1915), pages 68–69.

[5] Encyclopaedia Judaica. s.v. “Galante.” There are several ketubbot that have been cut down, making it impossible to identify the witnesses.

[6] The names M.L. Kauffmann and Augsburg are embossed on NMAH 315394A.32, which enabled Elizabeth Kessin Berman to trace the source of the paper. See A. Haemmerle, Buntpapier (Munich, 1977), pages 67ff. and fig. 105.

[7] Catalog numbers NMAH 315394A. 1, NMAH 315394A.2, NMAH 315394A.3, NMAH 315394A.10, NMAH 315394A.1], NMAH 315394A.26, NMAH 315394A.29.

[8] One of the ketubbot at the Jewish Theological Seminary (no. 165) also has geometric designs.

[9] The Jerusalem ketubbot and their relationships to the Damascus ketubbot are discussed in Jonathan Benjamin, “Ketubbah Ornamentation in Nineteenth-Century Eretz Yisrael,” Israel Museum News, volume 12 (1977), pages 129–137. They all seem related to Turkish types; see, for example, the ketubbot in Israel Museum, Sephardi Jews in the Ottoman Empire, nos. 50a, 50b, and 52c.

[1] See Benjamin, “Ketubbah Ornamentation,” pages 129–137.

[2] Ibid., page 132. Benjamin draws some comparisons between Jerusalem and Damascus ketubbot. but at the time the article was written, he did not know about the eighteenth-century Damascus ketubbot at the Smithsonian.

[1] Sabar, Ketubbah, page 47.

[1] The Hebrew Transcriptions used for the Hindu month names seem to match closely the Romanized Bengali used in R. Sewell et al., The Indian Calendar (London, 1896), pager 43ff.

[1] Shlomo Simonsohn, History of the Jews in the Duchy of Mantua (Jerusalem: Kiryath Sepher, 1977), page 93.

[2] The same text with an Italian translation by Cases was published as an eight-page pamphlet. Simonsohn writes of a copy in his collection (ibid., page 78, footnote 247).

[3]Encyclopaedia Judaica, s.v. “Coen, Graziadio Vita Anania.”

[1] The scroll has been examined with ultraviolet light, and no inscription is visible.

[2] Discussed in Joseph Gutmann, “Estherrolle,” in Reallexikon zur deutschen Kunstgeschichte (Stuttgart, 1973), volume 4, cited in V. Klagsbald, Catalogue raisonné de la collection juive du Musée de Cluny (Paris: Editions de la Reunion des Musées Nationaux, 1981), pages 66–67.

[3] Questions about its origin are further compounded by the existence of several scrolls in a similar hand in the Kirschstein Collection of Hebrew Union College, Klau Library. The Griselini scroll would have been known to collectors and dealers in the late nineteenth century. For example, a scroll from the Strauss Collection was exhibited at the Exposition Universelle at the Trotadéro in 1878 and at the Anglo-Jewish Historical Exhibition in 1887 (see Klagsbald, Catalogue raisonné de la collection du Musée de Cluny, no. 74). It is possible that an enterprising copyist painted several versions and sold them to dealers in the early twentieth century.

[1] Avrin, Micrography as Art. page 56.

[1] Avrin, Micrography as Art, page 57, no. 105.

[1] In a telephone conversation with Richard Ahlborn on 15 February 1996, Yael Hoz, of Beer-Sheva, Israel, reported that a custom among the group known as Italiani Jews was for candles to be lit in memory of the deceased for a year and then for the plaque to be put in a genizah. She further noted that a group of these labels was recently found in Italy and is now in a private collection in Israel.

[2] Three are in the Ezra P. Gorodesky Collection in the Jewish National and University Library in Jerusalem. One of these, in memory of Vitlora bat Lea (died 1855), is the most elaborate known and is in the form of a two-handled covered urn. It is published in E. Gorodetsky, Revealed Treasures from the Ezra P. Gorodesky Collection in the Jewish National and University Library (Jerusalem: Jewish National and University Library, 1989), no. 46. Another, from the collection of Alexander Bistritsky, is published in Hillel Seidman, The Glory of the Jewish Holidays (New York: Sheingold, 1969), page 97. Myron Weinstein made available the information on the Library of Congress examples. Nathan Snyder did the preliminary identification of the names and biblical verses.

[3] Abraham J. Karp, From the Ends of the Earth: Judaic Treasures of the Library of Congress (Washington, D.C.: Library of Congress, 1991), page 148. In addition to this evidence, there is ample reason to make the association to the Cases Synagogue because several of the plaques are dedicated to members of the Cases family; also, there are other items from Mantua in the Deinard Collection. Included, for example, is a prayer composed by Israel Gedaliah Cases (NMAH 315394A.117), for whom the memorial plaque with catalog number NMAH 334032.25 is named, and receipts to the Cisalpine Republic in Mantua by the Cases Synagogue (NM AH 315394A. 124–129).

[4]Encyclopaedia Judaica, s.v. “Cases.” Documentation on many of the families represented here, such as Finzi, Fano, and Massarani, can be found in Simonsohn, History of the Jews in the Duchy of Mantua. Specific mention of those represented in the Smithsonian’s plaques is not available, however, because their dates are later than the period covered in this work.

[5] Perhaps her name (and those of several others in this list) was changed according to the custom of giving a new name to a very sick person in order to mislead the Angel of Death.

[1]Jewish Encyclopedia, s.v. “Brieli.”

[2]Jewish Encyclopedia, s.v. “Cases.”

[1] Vivian Mann traces the development of this type of havdalah candleholder in “The Golden Age of Jewish Ceremonial Art in Frankfurt: Metalwork of the Eighteenth Century,” Leo Baeck Institute Year Book, volume 31 (1986), page 399.

[1] Some of the lamps even included elements directly copied from patterns used also on domestic objects, such as jewelry or writing boxes. See Klagsbald, Catalogue raisonnée de la collection du Musée de Cluny, no. 19.

[2] S.S. Kayser and G. Schoenberger, eds., Jewish Ceremonial Art (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 1959), no. 125.

[3] Mann, Gardens and Ghettos, no. 183. In the catalog entry for this lamp, Vivian Mann also notes a Venetian marriage contract dated 1796 with the same coat of arms in the collection of the Jewish Theological Seminary (no. 264a).

[1] Roth, Jewish Art, page 129.

[2] I. Shachar, Jewish Tradition in Art: The Feuchtwanger Collection of Judaica, second ed., translated by R. Grafman (Jerusalem: Israel Museum, 1981), page 132.

[1] See I. Fishof, From the Secular to the Sacred: Everyday Objects in Jewish Ritual Use, translated by R. Grafman (Jerusalem: Israel Museum, 1985), pages 7-8. This exhibition explored many types of reuse and recycling in the creation of Jewish ceremonial objects. A problem that has emerged in recent years with the growth of the Judaica art market is whether alterations of a given object were made in order to use the object or were simply the handiwork of an enterprising dealer.

[1] For a discussion of the spanier arbeit technique, see Giza Frankel, “Little-Known Handicrafts of Polish Jews in the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries,” Journal of Jewish Art, volume 2 (1975), pages 42–49.

[2] B. Kirshenblatt-Gimblett and C. Grossman, Fabric of Jewish Life: Textiles from the Jewish Museum Collection (New York: Jewish Museum, 1977), nos. 99, 103.

[1] The description of Zabari and his work is excerpted from Nancy M. Berman, Moshe Zabari: A Twenty-Five-Year Retrospective (New York: Jewish Museum, 1986), pages 10–12.

[1] In honor of his 75th birthday, an exhibition at the New York Jewish Museum, “Ludwig Yehuda Wolpert: A Retrospective,” was organized by Moshe Zabari. Biographical information is taken from Abram Kanof s essay in the catalog (A. Kanof, Ludwig Yehuda Wolpert: A Retrospective (New York: Jewish Museum, 1976).

[2] G.C. Grossman, The Maurice Spertus Museum of Judaica: An Illustrated Catalog of Selected Objects (Chicago: Maurice Spertus Museum of Judaica 1974), page 32.

[1] The tallit (cat. no. NMAH 310078A,B) is torn in half. Only one box of the tefillin was found (cat. no. 310079). These were given to the Smithsonian by the Jewish Welfare Board in August 1919 (acc. no. 64002). They were published in Casanowicz, “Collections of Objects of Religious Ceremonial in the U.S. National Museum,” no. 19.

[2]Encyclopaedia Judaica, s.v. “Rheims.”

[3] Kirshenblatt-Gimblett and Grossman, Fabric of Jewish Life, no. 137.

[4] Bamett, Catalogue of the Permanent and Loan Collections of the Jewish Museum. London, no. 208.

[1] Another Philadelphia ark, from Congregation Shaarei Eli, at 8th and Porter streets, is now in the collection of the National Museum of American Jewish History. For information on the tradition of carved architectural elements in synagogues in eastern Europe, see Maria and Kazimierz Piechotka, Wooden Synagogues (Warsaw: Arkady, 1959).

[1] These cards are part of the extensive Norcross Antique Greeting Card Collection, box 58.

[1] Still in the collection of Congregation Emanu-El are another Torah mantle and a Torah curtain from the same community. We are grateful 1o Rafi Grafman for informing us about these objects.

[1] Encyclopaedia Judaica, s.v. “Wise, Isaac Mayer.”

[2] Encyclopaedia Judaica, s.v. “Marcus, Jacob Rader.”

[1] Joseph L. Blau and Salo W. Baron, editors, The Jews of the United States, 1790–1840: A Documentary History (New York: Columbia University Press, 1963), volume 1, page 260.

[2] Universal Jewish Encyclopedia, s.v. “Hays, Moses Michael.”

[3] Ibid.

[4] Blau and Baron, The Jews of the Untied States, page 274.

[5] Information on the family history is found in accession record 58305. Other objects include a gown (NMAH-TE 15408), bodice (NMAH-TE 15409), lace collars (NMAH-TE 15498, NMAH-TE 15445), and sleeve lace (NMAH-TE 15499, NMAH-TE 15500).

[1] The information on Israel Fine is based on correspondence with his great-grandson Earl L. Baker. Dr. Baker is in possession of all the extant documents relating to Israel Fine that belonged to the family.

[2] A second son was born in the United States in the 1890s.

[3] On his trip, Fine bought several items made in the Bezalel School of Arts and Crafts. These are still in the possession of the family.

[4] See Karp, From the Ends of the Earth, page 120. Fine’s volume is bound in leather. On the inside of one cover is the flag of the United States: inside the other is the seal of the United States. Little was known about Israel Fine until his great-granddaughter Marjorie Rosenblatt chanced to see this volume on display at the Library of Congress. Fortuitously, Michael Grunberger, head of the Hebraic Section at the Library of Congress, was at the exhibition that day; subsequently, Mrs. Rosenblatt and Dr. Baker made the family documents available.

[1] “That they should make them days of feasting and joy, and of sending choice portions to one another, and gifts to the poor” (Esther 9:22).

[2] From the Purim Gazette of 1881, American Jewish Archives, Cincinnati, Ohio.

[1] The family history is based on the recollections of Irene Miller Galdston, daughter of Joseph Miller, which were recorded on 15 February 1980. Business records donated to the Smithsonian are in accession file 1992.3159. The acquisition of the Miller collection resulted from the energetic pursuit by two Smithsonian specialists, Tom L. Tully and David Shayt, working under Richard Ahlborn’s supervision.

[1] Information about Gertrude M. Oppenheimer was provided by Gillian Moss, curator of textiles at the Cooper-Hewitt Museum.

[1] Kirshenblatt-Gimblett and Grossman, Fabric of Jewish Life, nos. 243 and 244.

[1] Encyclopaedia Judaica, s.v. “Genizah.”

[2] Simon von Geldern (1720–1788) was born in Germany to a family of court Jews. An adventurer, he was immortalized by his great-nephew Heinrich Heine (Encyclopaedia Judaica, s.v. “Geldem”).

[3] Jacob Saphir (1822–1885) was born in Vilna, but his family immigrated to Eretz Yisrael when he was only 10 years old, Saphir, who was orphaned when he was a young teen, became a writer and intrepid traveler, serving as emissary to a number of Jewish communities, including those in Egypt and Yemen (Encyclopaedia Judaica, s.v. “Saphir”).

[4] Richard Gottheil and William H. Worrell, editors, Fragments from the Cairo Genizah in the Freer Collection (New York: Macmillan, 1927), page xiv. Elizabeth Kessin Berman located these fragments in the Freer Collection.