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Yerushalmi Found And Lost: The Story Of A Forgery
By Yisroel Holland
Part II
This series was first published in 1992, or, 24 years ago.
For Part I of this series click here.
For Part III of this series click here.
Seeking the Yerushalmi
At the end of 5661, they heard that the largest kameiya was kept by a wealthy Jew named Suleiman Benveniste. They rushed to his house, their hearts beating wildly, almost ripping off the manuscript's silk covering in their haste. Their joy however was not complete for their hopes were not entirely fulfilled: the long version of seder Nezikin which the Sdeh Yehoshua had written about, was not there.
They ascertained that another descendant probably had it and that it may yet be retrievable. Again, "sadly," the manuscript of Kodshim ended abruptly in the middle of the second perek of Arachin and here unfortunately, there was no hope, for the subsequent pages had been worn away and disappeared.
The valiant pair managed to secure the manuscript on loan for six months. A contract was drawn up with the publisher, who undertook to explain and elucidate the text and to print tens of thousands of copies. The income from the venture would be divided; half for the publisher and half for the two "detectives." At long last, the manuscript had finally reached the publishers eager hands on the twenty-eighth of Kislev 5662 (1902).
The publisher then describes the appearance of the ancient manuscript. The parchment which the Yerushalmi was written on was strong and thick. Each page had writing on both sides, each side holding two columns, each thirty-four lines in length. The bold, square letters attested to the quality of the work carried out by the Sephardi scribe.
At the beginning of every mishna, halacha or sentence, were large, red letters, which had been illuminated with gold and decorations. There were no abbreviated words or phrases; everything was written in full. At the end of maseches Menochos, the publisher had deciphered the following lines: "I, Yitzchok bar Yosef Ibn Ilbargeloni the scribe, have written the Talmud Yerushalmi up to this point, and, as Hashem helps me, will complete it, for the Chacham and prince in Yisrael, Don Yitzchak Halevi, who has paid from his purse for it to be glorified and embellished."
Further on, the "scribe" notes that his work was copied from accurate manuscripts which had been corrected by Rav Hai Gaon. "And the work was completed on the twenty-fifth day of yerach Tammuz in the year 4972 (1212)."
After this lengthy description of the manuscript and its history, comes the publishers account of the laborious task of trying to copy the crumbling document: "The letters literally float in the air; it is beyond the power of even the most patient and assiduous of men to copy it."
Getting used to the work took up much valuable time and the half-year came to an end. The two investigators thus arranged for a further half-year's lease and this time the publisher worked hard, managing to copy the entire manuscript in shorthand by the time the six months were up. Preparing the long hand version then took another year. During this phase of the work, the publisher sometimes found he had forgotten the meaning of certain symbols, having "to break his head" in order to work them out.
The elaborate deception was finally complete. Complicated and well planned as any detective story, in which every detail is worked out and set in place, the underlying object of the whole fiction is not hard to see.
The publisher knew that one day, he would have to show the manuscript to experts. This carried obvious risks. Expert as he himself was in faking the appearance of old age, he could not completely avoid the danger of being found out. His intricate story helped him out here; he had to return the original manuscript to its owner (Suleiman Benveniste), in Turkey, while the Sdeh Yehoshua's letters had long been returned to his brother.
Part Four: Something Amiss
Far away from Turkey, in the Ukraine, the Chofetz Chaim zt'l began laying Rabbenu Tam tefillin. Those close to him reckoned that he wanted to fulfill the minhag of the chassidim who lived in the vicinity, who wore two pairs of tefillin.
The Chofetz Chaim's son however, later related another, completely different reason which his father had given for his new practice: Rabbenu Tam's opinion was explicitly stated in the new Yerushalmi. (This of course, rather than reflecting gullibility chas vesholom, should be understood as an indication of the Chofetz Chaim's great yiras Shomayim and his meticulous care in performing mitzvos, as a consequence of which he was unwilling to take any chances and to decide that the Yerushalmi was not authentic even lekulla.)
HaRav Meir Dan Plotzky zt"l
HaRav Meir Dan Plotzky, (well known as the author of the Kli Chemdah) lived in the Polish town of Dwahrt, where he also served as rav. He was eager to obtain the new sefer and wrote to the publisher suggesting that they exchange their publications, "chabura tachas chabura," as he put it.
In his reply, the publisher wrote that he could not agree to the arrangement; he badly needed the cash in order to cover his printing expenses. He further asked Rav Meir Dan's help in distributing the sefer and his request was readily agreed to. Moreover, in Rav Meir Dan's Kli Chemdah on sefer Vayikra, which appeared at the end of the Summer of 5667, there appear the following lines (at the end of the kuntres acharon, after a lengthy discussion on a piece in the (new) Yerushalmi Chulin): "And now, before us in the Yerushalmi, it states clearly that this is Rav Yochanan's opinion. In my view, this serves as a proof that this manuscript is indeed the Yerushalmi, as the Gaon, the elucidator and publisher has written. I have much to write on several subjects connected with this Yerushalmi, but this is not the place."
The inclusion of these few lines was what ultimately led to the exposure of the deceit. HaRav Meir Dan had in fact entertained doubts as to the lamdonus and scholarship of the publisher from his first glimpse.
In his sefer, Sha'alu Shlom Yerushalayim, he relates that when he saw the Yerushalmi, he began to wonder whether or not the publisher possessed even minimal yiras Shomayim. By way of explanation, he says only that reading the introduction arouses skepticism as to the truth of the publisher's story and elaborates no further.
It seems that this is because, from time to time in the course of his narrative, the publisher inserts needless and tasteless words of mockery. On hearing, at the beginning of 5668, that there were some who had already proved the Yerushalmi to be a fake, HaRav Meir Dan was shocked. His fear that in time, false accusations could be made against him because of the services he had rendered the publisher in the most recent volume of Kli Chemdah, led him to the decision that he had to enter the fray.
He got hold of two articles which had appeared in Jewish journals of the time (one from the Frankfurt weekly Israelite by HaRav Dov Arieh Ritter, Av Beis Din of Rotterdam, the other, from the Vilna weekly, Ha'olam, by R' Ber Ruttne, author of Ahavas Tzion Vi'yerushalayim) which clearly proved that the Yerushalmi was a forgery, and waited, carefully considering his next step.
An opportunity for action presented itself with the publication, in the Hungarian monthly edited by HaRav Yitzchok Klein, a dayan and more hora'a in Satmar, of a statement defending the authenticity of the manuscript. In order to silence the opponents of the new Yerushalmi, wrote HaRav Klein, the publisher, who lived in Satmar, had shown him the seven hundred year old manuscript.
HaRav Meir Dan lost no time in writing to Rav Klein asking how the publishers possession of the manuscript was to be reconciled with the same gentleman's contention that he had returned it in 5662 to its owner? The writer also asked Rav Klein to make inquiries about the publishers gadlus in Torah. Rav Klein passed the letter on to the Sephardi Chacham himself to compose his own reply.
The publisher, who understood well that any inquiry into the matter would show him up, had wisely taken steps to deal with situations like this, by preparing an ingenious avoidance tactic. As a born and bred Sephardi he was simply "unfamiliar" with the Ashkenazi written hand. He therefore had to pass on all such correspondence to his talmid Avrohom Rosenberg (another invention, in company with brother Eliyahu, Suleiman Benveniste, Yaakov Kobi etc.) to read and compose the replies. Uncomfortable questions could thus be sidestepped with the blame going to the inefficient talmid.
The reply received by HaRav Meir Dan stated that they had managed to obtain five pages of the manuscript as well as a copy which the Sdeh Yehoshua had made in the years 5429-30, by the sofer Yitzchak Parchi. A warm handwritten greeting in Rashi script from the publisher rounded off the communication.
HaRav Meir Dan was as yet unaware that Rav and talmid were one and the same person and he wrote again, asking the publisher to provide answers to the arguments of the Yerushalmi's opponents. Now he also demanded that the publisher prove he really was a Sephardi. This question had been raised by the Rav of Rotterdam, who insisted that the man they were dealing with was in fact an Ashkenazi posing as a Sephardi (amongst other things).
This time "Algazi" replied himself, in the same Rashi script, and apologized for the misunderstanding. His unfamiliarity with the usual writing had forced him to refer the first letter to his talmid who had been away at the time. The talmid had only translated a part of the letter and had released his teacher from having to provide answers to some of the questions.
By this time, HaRav Meir Dan was sure that the Yerushalmi was a forgery and the exchange of letters would have ceased entirely but for the publisher's continued messages and the dispatch from Satmar of what was supposed to be the Sdeh Yehoshua's copy of the manuscript, in order for it to be examined by Ha'Admor HaRav Avrohom Mordechai Alter of Ger, an acknowledged expert in ancient manuscripts.
HaRav Meir Dan took the material to Ger and the Gerrer Rebbe delivered his verdict: the manuscripts aged appearance had been simulated by technical means. Now there was only one option left to the publisher. If he could hand over the addresses of the famous Suleiman Benveniste and Yaakov Kobi, all may yet be well. After some more hedging, the publisher dug his heels in. He refused to give in to the pressure and release the addresses, in spite of the harsh tone of HaRav Meir Dan's letters.
HaRav Meir Dan for his part needed no more proof. The lengthy correspondence had sketched the picture of a professional forger. "Shlomo Ya'uda Algazi Friedlander S'T" was certainly no Sephardi.
Discovery... For The Third Time
Neither a Sephardi, nor the son of a Sephardi, the "publisher," whose name was not Shlomo Ya'uda, had never even been near Asia. He had been born in Bishankevitz, in the district of Vitebsk, on the banks of the river Dvina, and his name in Yisroel was, Zusske Rachel Lahiss.
He was gifted with incredible powers of mimicry and the Yerushalmi debacle was the pinnacle of his achievements in the field of professional forging.
He had started his "career" years earlier in Milhausen, Germany. It was from there that he began sending Torah letters to the Rabbonim of faraway kehillos, signing himself as "Shlomo Yehuda Leib Friedlander, Av Beis Din of Milhausen."
HaRav Yehoshua Nemiatin, Av Beis Din of his birthplace Bishankevitz, who was familiar with this early episode, wrote, "...and here, there is neither Rav nor moreh tzedek nor Friedlander — there is only Zusske Rachel Lahiss."
After a period spent wandering around, Lahiss settled in Klausenburg. There he tried to impress the Rav with his extensive Torah knowledge, but the Rav, quickly recognizing him for what he was, was not taken in. Lahiss then tried a new trick in order to win the Rav's admiration.
One fine day, he burst into the Rav's house holding an ancient kameiya, written in ksav ashuris. Lahiss had his story ready. This kameiya, had, until now, been lying in the cellars of the museum in Zurich, where it was known as "the amulet of Rav Yonoson Eyebschutz." It had come into the hands of Professor So-and-so who, being unfamiliar with the collection of obscure Hebrew-Aramaic words it contained, had sent it to Klausenburg for he had heard that Lahiss was a talmid chochom, a great researcher and an expert at deciphering kemayos.
Lahiss claimed he had spent a long time poring over the kameiya until he discovered that it was written in the "at-bash" code (where tav, the last letter, is written in place of alef, the first, shin in place of beis, and so on). The words which were revealed in the kameiya were a stunning indictment of the great Reb Yonoson and proved that the accusations of Rav Yaakov Emden had been justified. The entire Jewish world would seethe as a result of this discovery!
Lahiss left the Rav's house as happy as Haman had left the palace of Achashverosh. The Rav immediately wrote to the Swiss Professor whom Lahiss had named, in order to ascertain the story's truth. The reply was unequivocal: it was all a fabrication. The professor had never studied kemayos, and knew nobody by the name of Friedlander.
The Rav summoned Friedlander and berated him harshly for wanting to sully the reputation of a godol beYisroel. Lahiss-Friedlander remained unruffled, saying merely that while it was indeed true that he had forged the kameiya, he had done so only to display his skill and craftsmanship.
He was driven out of Klausenburg in shame, narrowly escaping severe punishment.
End of Part 2
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