Gems from Rav Herzog’s Archive (Part 2): Sanhedrin, Dateline, the Rav on Kahane, and More
EDIT Please see this post for a crucial correction – it is the conclusion of the Rav’s family that the letter in the Herzog Archive about Kahane is a forgery.
EDIT Please see this post for a crucial correction – it is the conclusion of the Rav’s family that the letter in the Herzog Archive about Kahane is a forgery.
He [Ginzberg] writes in his book that he developed a novel approach and a scientific method to Halachah.
In these volumes an attempt has been made to deal with the writings of the mishnaic-talmudic period as a unit and, within the framework of a commentary on the first treatise of the Palestinian Talmud, to present a novel approach to the study of this literature.
זה כשבוע שהובא אוצר גדול לביתי הוא ספרו של כבודו “פירושים וחידושים בירושלמי”, ואתמול גמרתי העיון בכרך הראשון על שני פרקים הראשונים במס’ ברכות. ואף שאין כבודו צריך לדכוותי, לא אוכל להתאפק לומר לו “יישר חילו לאורייתא”, ואקוה שיזכה להו”ל ספרו על כל הירושלמי, להאיר עיני ההוגים בתלמוד זה. הספר גזל ממני הרבה שינה, ואקוה שיהיו לרצון לפניו הערות אחדות שמצאתי להעיר בדבריו[3]
“great pilpulim… The Sha’gas Aryeh in his great teshuvah [responsum] has a pilpul on the subject, where he quotes some pieces of the Peri Chadash and argues against them… Ginzberg writes in a very trivial and casual tone against these two renowned geonim… Ginzberg writes that these two geonim, despite all their lengthy pilpul, overlooked an explicit and open source in the Talmud Yerushalmi.”
האחרונים האריכו לפלפל אם למ”ד ק”ש מן התורה ב’ פרשיות הן מן התורה או רק פרשה ראשונה (עיין פרי חדש ס”ו [ע.ה.: צ”ל ס”ז], ושאגת אריה ס’, ב’) ולא העירו על דברי הירושלמי כאן, שכבר אמרנו בכמה מקומות שלהירושלמי ק”ש מן התורה, ומ”מ טרחו למצוא טעם למה אין צריך כוונה רק פרק ראשון ולא אמרו שפרק ראשון מן התורה ולכך צריך כוונה ופרק שני מדרבנן ולכן אינו צריך כוונה, וע”כ ששניהם מן התורה, ועיין ראש דבור הקודם, ואכמ”ל
…it is astonishing that the academic “scientific scholar” Louis Ginzberg either did not understand the words of the Peri Chadash and Sha’agas Aryeh, or deliberately deceived to discredit them. The error of Ginzberg here is because in the same chapter of the Peri Chadash, the Peri Chadash himself quotes this Talmud Yerushalmi, and brings this very proof with respect to which Ginzberg claims that he “caught” the Peri Chadash and the Sha’agas Aryeh in overlooking the Talmud Yerushalmi. Of course, the Sha’agas Aryeh makes reference to the Peri Chadash, so obviously he does not have to repeat the proof from this Yerushalmi which is clearly stated by the Peri Chadash.
מעתה נשאר לנו לברר הדעת השלישי’ והיא היותר אמיתי מכולן דפרש’ שמע ופרשת והיה אם שמוע השתי פרשיו’ הוו מן התור’… וכך מטין דברי הרמב”ם ז”ל… וזו היא דעתי ומסתייעא הדין סברא דילן מהא דגרסינן בפ’ היה קורא…
ובירושלמי אמרינן מה בין פ’ ראשון דבעי כוונ’ לפ’ שני דלא בעי כוונ’ ומשני לה, נמצא דהני תנאי ס”ל דשתי פרשיו’ ראשונו’ הוו מן התור’…
…ובירושלמי… אמרו זהו שעומד ומתפלל צריך להשוות את רגליו כו’ ח”א כמלאכים וח”א ככהנים כו’ שהיו מהלכים עקב בצד גודל וגודל בצד עקב משמע משם דוקא וכ”כ התוס’ ישנים יומא שם עיי”ש שכ’ אי נמי רצין עקב בצד גודל שלא להראות כחו עושה כן אלא כי כן צריך לו לילך בשעת עבודה כדפי’ עכ”ל ודבריהם אלו אינם מובנים והנראה לי דט”ס יש שם וכנ”ל אי נמי רצין ועולין בכבש עקב כו’ ור”ל דמתני’ ה”ק היו רצין עד לכבש והולכין בכבש כדרכן עקב בצד גודל וזהו שסיימו בת”י שלא להראות כחו עושה כן כו’ פי’ במ”ש ועולין בכבש לא להראות כחן היו עולין לכבש דעולין בכבש כדרכן עקב בצד גודל אלא עיקר הקדמתן במ”ש היו רצין דהיינו עד לכבש…
Tosefos Yeshanim… gives these two terutzim [solutions] to answer this contradiction. On the Sefer Yere’im… there is a perush [commentary] by the name To’afos Re’em where he brings all the bekiyus [referecnes] on this subject. He also writes this contradiction and explains both terutzim. And after he writes these two terutzim, he references the Tosefos Yeshanim, as quoted above.
…with the claim of originality, Ginzberg answers the contradiction asked by the Rishonim and of Tosefos Yeshanim with these two solutions, not being aware that Tosefos Yeshanim himself wrote these two answers word for word.
…if someone has in front of him all these sefarim when he learns Talmud Yerushalmi (he does not have to be an expert in Halachah), he could produce most of Ginzberg’s works.
Ginzberg being aware that one may discover the obvious, that most of his references and citations are plagiarized from Ratner… and others, always tries to disqualify Ratner and others.[4]
The most important source for establishing a correct text are the numerous quotations… and one must be grateful to Baer Ratner (1852-1917) for collecting them in twelve volumes of his work… The parallels must however be used with great caution for the following reasons…
He copies from Ratner verbatim without mentioning his name.
…he writes “many erred” because they did not know the sources, but the sources are written by Ratner…
“In his learned scholia… Ratner does not hesitate to attribute it to the Yerushalmi as Rabbi Aha’s source, and yet it can be readily demonstrated, from the words of the Sheëltot, that it goes back to the Babli.”
Again, Ginzberg writes ‘Ratner did not indicate this source’, and this is an outright falsification, because in that same place Ratner quoted the source.
לאוהבו של מלך שבא והרתיק על פתחו של מלך. במחזור ויטרי שי”ג (וראטנער לא העיר על מקור זה) גרס, תערו במקום פתחו, וזה יותר מדויק…
וכן לא העיר על הילקוט… אשכול… ושלחן ארבע שמביאים דברי הירושלמי על התכיפות
מ”ש “במחזור ויטרי שי”ג גרס תערו במקום פתחו” לא היה ולא נברא. וזה לשונו [במחזור וויטרי] סימן י”ז [עמוד 13] א”ר חמי של מי שאינו סומך גאולה לתפלה למה הוא דומה לאוהבו של מלך שבא והרתיק על פתחו של מלך… וכו’. ואמנם הגירסא זו [תרעו ולא כמ”ש גינזבורג תערו] הובא בספר המנהיג [דיני תפלה, עמוד מ”ד, הוצאת מוסד הרב קוק] וכבר ציינה ראטנער [אהבת ציון וירושלים, צד 11] וזה המחבר זייף דברי ראטנער כדרכו. ואמנם כך פירשו שמה המחזור וויטרי, תרפ”ד, דף 31, כמו שציין גינזבורג אלא שהרי המחזור וויטרי סותר את עצמו…
In the 2000 edition of Toldot Rabbenu Chaim Volozhin, R. Schapiro’s descendants include a brief introduction about the history of the book, yet they were unaware of some key facts. First, they claim the book was only published twice, when in fact it was published four times. Additionally, then erroneously note that their edition is the third when in fact it is the fifth. Finally, they claim the first edition was the 1910 edition, when in fact the first edition appeared in 1909.
In addition to these three inaccuracies and omissions, there is a much more glaring one; not bibliographical in the abstract, but related to the content of the book – they have left out something which appeared in the earlier editions. In the first (1909) edition, a letter from R. Dr. Abraham Eliyahu Harkavy (1839-1919), a former student at the yeshiva in Volozhin, appears which contains both his warm approval of the book as well as a few comments on the book. Further, the fact Harkavy’s letter was included was no small thing as this was noted on the title page of the book. Specifically, the title page states the book includes:
In the 1909 edition of Toldot Rabbenu Chaim Volozhin, Harkavy’s letter and notes were included by R. Moshe Schapiro. In the current reprint, the time that the fifth edition of Toldot Rabbenu Chaim Volozhin, published in 2000, by Schapiro’s grandchildren, Harkavy’s letter and notes are mysteriously missing. Perhaps this letter was removed intentionally as Harkavy was a maskil (intellectual) and later the head librarian at the Imperial Library in St. Petersburg.
It is possible these are missing due to a corrupted reprint the current publishers are relying upon. But, even if that would be the case, it does not absolve them of getting the first (or their “first” edition – the 1910 edition). Moreover, the title page they include does not give the current editions date, instead, the date and thus the reference is to the Vilna 1910 edition. Thus, giving the appearance they are merely reproducing the 1910 edition which is incorrect.
As an interesting aside, in 1999 the Artscroll publishing house released the first of two volumes of Shenot Dor v’Dor (the second was published in 2004) by Reuven Dessler, of a collection of priceless letters from important rabbinical personalities culled from the invaluable manuscript collection of the Dessler family, wherein an entire section (in vol. 1) is devoted to correspondence between Harkavy and some of the greatest rabbis of his time, many of them his colleagues and teachers at the yeshiva in Volozhin, including R. Naftali Zvi Yehudah Berlin (Netziv) and R. Chaim Soloveitchik.
NOTES
The “Doctored” Medical Diploma of Samuel, the Son of Menasseh Ben Israel:[1] Forgery or “For Jewry”?
Rabbi Edward Reichman, MD
Menasseh ben Israel is a prominent figure in Jewish history known for his role in the return of the Jews to England in the time of Oliver Cromwell, as well being the first to establish a Hebrew printing press in Holland.[2] Menasseh had two sons and a daughter. His son Samuel, born in 1625, was a Hebrew printer,[3] publishing a number of his father’s works, and also assisting his father with his diplomatic endeavors in England. Here we focus on another aspect of Samuel’s life- his medical career.
In a correspondence dating from the mid seventeenth century, we find information about Samuel’s medical training and degree. The letter, dated Tammuz, 5416 (1655), is from Yehuda Heller Wallerstein to Samuel Ben Israel. Yehuda writes from Salonica and reports how he encountered Jan Nicholas, the brother of Sir Edward Nicholas, British politician and advocate for the resettlement of the Jews in England, who enlightened him as to Samuel’s recent activities: “He informed me that in a short period of time you achieved great success in your study of the sciences and merited, with the assistance of Edward his brother, to present for examination before the professors of the University of Oxford, and to obtain the distinction, ‘Doctor of Medicine and Philosophy’.”[4]
There would appear to be no reason to doubt this account. Menasseh was certainly connected to the influential Sir Edward Nicholas, whose work advocating for the Jews return to England he translated. Samuel is in fact known to have been a physician. However, this account is found in the writings of Abraham Shalom Friedberg, master of historical fiction. While Samuel is an historical figure, Heller Wallerstein is a likely a figment of the author’s imagination and the letters are primarily a vehicle to explore the historical chapter of Shabbetai Zevi, the false messiah, for which this account of the diploma is only peripheral.
The only historical source, upon which the remainder of this fanciful account revolves, is a medical diploma from the University of Oxford granted to Samuel ben Israel on May 6, 1655,[5] and even the veracity of this document is suspect. A number of historians have discussed this diploma, primarily through the lens of Samuel’s famous father Menasseh, and have concluded that it is a forgery. Here we introduce a new perspective to this discussion and view the diploma from the vantage point of Jewish medical history, an aspect strikingly absent from previous discussions. It is only through this lens that we can gain an accurate assessment of its content and context. Was it really a forgery, or merely a product of the historical realities of its age?
A Word on the Medical Training of Menasseh ben Israel, Samuel’s Father
As a backdrop to our discussion about Samuel’s medical training, it is instructive to analyze the medical qualifications and practice of his father. Aside from his activities as a rabbi, statesman and author, Menasseh was also a physician.[6] The medical face of Menasseh has received scant treatment by historians, and perhaps for good reason. It was clearly not a major aspect of his daily life or contribution to Jewish history. His medical personality was manifest only peripherally or secondarily, and inconsistently as well. Nonetheless, understanding Menasseh’s medical identity sheds light not only on Jewish medical history in general, but also on his son’s medical training.
In a number of published works Menasseh refers to himself as a physician. In his letter to the Lord Protector of the Commonwealth, published in 1655, the very same year as Samuel’s diploma, he is identified as a “Doctor of Physick.”
In the work below from 1656 he is called a physician:
Menasseh also referred to himself as “Medicus Hebraeus.”[7] This title was also used to describe Ephraim Bueno, a prominent Amsterdam physician, as well as a friend and supporter of Menasseh.[8] Furthermore, his connection to medicine is reflected in his translation of the aphorisms of Hippocrates into Hebrew [9] and his relationships with a number of physicians.[10]
To my knowledge there is no record of Menasseh obtaining a medical diploma or graduating from a university. One scholar writes, without reference, that he attended medical school at the University of Groningen for a short time, though apparently did not complete his degree.[11] I have seen no evidence to corroborate this assertion and the university has no record of his matriculation in their archives.[12]
Menasseh’s identification as a physician was not consistent. In some works, the medical title is omitted:
Another curious fact is that Menasseh’s Hebrew writings make no mention whatsoever of his role or title as a physician, nor have I seen him identified as a rofeh in any Hebrew literature. Roth suggests that he may have practiced, though evidence is lacking, and that he included his address when he identified as a physician in his English works as a form of advertising.[13] The tombstone of Menasseh in the Ouderkerk Cemetery does not bear the title doctor or physician.[14]
While historians are wont to call Samuel’s diploma a forgery, his own father considered himself a physician without obtaining a degree or diploma. Should we not, to be consistent, consider Menasseh an imposter physician?
Essential to our assessment of the medical titles and careers of both Menasseh and his son is an understanding of the training of Jewish physicians at this period in history. While today the notion of a physician without formal university training culminating in a diploma is anathema, not to mention criminal, this was simply not the case in the Middle Ages and Renaissance, particularly for the Jew. In fact, Jews were universally barred from attending or graduating universities, which were invariably under the auspices of the Catholic Church. Graduation from universities, such as Oxford, included and required statements or oaths avowing one’s belief in Christianity.
This did not prevent Jews from becoming physicians. They pursued an alternate medical educational pathway comprised of independent learning and clinical training through apprenticeship.[15] This enabled them to take licensing exams and earn the title doctor. Some simply self-identified as a physician or rofeh by virtue of their extensive training. The overwhelming majority of Jewish physicians trained through this alternate pathway, and it is likely that Menasseh is counted amongst them. Once universities began to open their doors to Jewish students,[16] a number of academically motivated students chose this conventional pathway. These university-trained physicians initially accounted for only a small percentage of the health professionals in the Jewish community. Thus, the title “rofeh” or “doctor” in this period was not specifically associated with a university degree.[17]
The Medical Diploma of Samuel ben Israel
The full text of Samuel’s medical diploma was first printed by Koenen in 1843.[18] Koenen raises no doubts whatsoever as to the veracity of the document and publishes it, without discussion, comment or context, as part of a collection of important documents in Dutch Jewish history. Through what training or means Samuel attained this diploma is entirely omitted.
After its publication, the diploma was initially accepted by historians and scholars without question. For example, G. I. Polak wrote that Samuel, through extraordinary skill and acumen, was able to obtain his degree in medicine and philosophy from Oxford.[19] Some even took the liberty to provide additional details. For example, Graetz writes in his classic History of the Jews:[20]
Samuel ben Israel … was presented by the University of Oxford, in consideration of his knowledge and natural gifts, with the degree of Doctor of Philosophy and Medicine, and according to custom, received the gold ring, the biretta, and the kiss of peace.[21]
Where could Graetz have derived this detailed information? It actually appears in the Latin text of Samuel’s diploma, which describes the features of the classic graduation ceremony for European universities during this period. The biretta, often called the Oxford Cap, is the ancestor of our contemporary four-cornered graduation cap.
The scholar Adolph Neubauer appears to have been the first person to suspect something was not kosher with Samuel’s credentials, and at his behest, in 1876, Richard Griffith, the Keeper of the Archive at the University of Oxford reviewed the text of the diploma.[22] The following are the summary points of his analysis:[23]
Griffith’s inescapable conclusion is that this is unequivocally not a genuine Oxford diploma. His analysis is unassailable. Griffiths was certainly familiar with the text of the medical degrees from Oxford during Samuel’s time; indeed, he literally wrote the book on the subject.[24]
Based on Griffith’s analysis, Samuel’s diploma is so fundamentally different than the standard Oxford diploma, there would seem to be no reason to obtain an actual Oxford diploma from that time to further compare the two. Even if one were to consider such a comparison, it would be challenging if not impossible to find an extant diploma from Oxford contemporary with Samuel. In response to my query, the Oxford Archives today responded that they do not possess any diplomas from this period, nor, for that matter, are they aware of any held elsewhere. The archivist added that they cannot be sure that diplomas or degree certificates, in the sense we understand the term, were even created or issued at Oxford from the 15th to the 17th centuries. As mentioned, there was however a specific template and wording associated with the granting of degrees at Oxford,[25] and the graduate would receive some confirmation of their degree, albeit perhaps not a formal diploma in the classic sense. The document did however bear the university seal. It is upon this Oxford template that Griffith based his analysis.
After negating any connection to Oxford, Griffith adds that the diploma was rather an adaptation of a form then used by the University of Padua, “with alterations willfully and insufficiently made.” Griffith was familiar with the Padua diploma template from his Oxford position for a curious reason. In the seventeenth century many graduates in medicine desiring to practice in England obtained their degrees outside of the United Kingdom, often at the University of Padua. In order to practice in England, the graduate had to be “incorporated” into either the University of Oxford or Cambridge. As a prerequisite to incorporation the students were required to present their diplomas/degrees from the granting institution.[26]
The Location of the “Original” Diploma
While Koenen published the full text of Samuel’s diploma, he makes no reference as to the location of the original document. Roth notes that he received a photo of the diploma from the Montezinos Library (known today as Ets Haim- Livraria Montezinos) in Amsterdam. A catalogue of the library holdings from 1927[27] states that the library possessed copies of the first and last pages of the diploma, though not the original.[28] The Ets Haim Library today does not have a record of the diploma photographs.[29] I reached out as well to the Bibliotheca Rosenthaliana, the other major Jewish historical collection in Amsterdam, to see if perhaps the diploma ended up there, which it did not.[30] I also contacted the Roth Collection at the University of Leeds to see if perhaps Roth’s copies of the diploma are kept there, and to my dismay, they likewise have no record of Samuel’s diploma.[31]
Without the actual document, it is impossible to definitively comment on its veracity. Access to the original would allow analysis of the ink and paper for dating. Even access to the copies would be useful. For example, the diploma contains signatures of two faculty members of the University of Oxford. A comparative graphological analysis with known signatures of these men could easily confirm the document’s origin. Regretfully, I have access to neither the “original,” nor the copies. I nonetheless offer additional information and analysis in defense of a Jewish physician accused of forgery in the hopes of restoring his reputation. Absent such essential material information for my case, you may feel free to conclude that my diploma (analysis) is a forgery of sorts. I hope to nonetheless persuade you to drop the charges of forgery, though definitive proof beyond a shadow of a doubt awaits the discovery of the “original” diploma.
Was the diploma a forgery?[32]
Samuel’s diploma was beyond doubt not an official Oxford-issued document, as Griffith details, but was it necessarily a forgery? All historians to date familiar with Griffith’s analysis assume the answer to be a resounding yes, some even labelling it a “brazen” forgery.[33] There is no evidence of any suspicion of the document’s veracity during the lifetime of its bearer. As to when the document was supposedly forged, while the theoretical possibility exists that the diploma was a product of the nineteenth century, Roth convincingly dismisses this theory. He concludes, “The hypothesis of a nineteenth-century fabrication may thus be definitely ruled out.”[34] We are thus left with the universally accepted belief that Samuel forged his own diploma.
Kayserling notes that Menasseh, and thus Samuel, had not yet visited England in May of 1655, the date of the document. This would seemingly conclude the case for forgery and leave little room for discussion. Roth however subsequently rejected this assertion upon finding record in the Calendar of State Papers of the period (documents not accessible to his predecessors and only then recently made available) that Samuel had been sent ahead to England prior to his father and was indeed there at that time.[35]
The accumulated evidence is certainly suggestive of forgery, but is it dispositive? Could there be another plausible explanation behind this diploma? I would like to suggest that its rejection as an official Oxford diploma does not inexorably lead to a verdict of forgery. By placing this diploma into the larger context of Jewish medical training and diplomas, as well as comparing Samuel’s diploma to other known medical diploma forgeries of the time, specifically for the universities of Padua and Oxford, we may be able to offer another alternative to criminality for one not known to be inclined to such behavior, not to mention being the son of a prominent Jewish rabbi and statesman. I endeavor at minimum, to prove reasonable doubt regarding the accusation of forgery.
Griffith’s Omission and the “Jewish” Diploma
Griffith correctly asserts that Samuel’s diploma is modeled after that of Padua. There is however, a key aspect of this supposed forgery that has previously gone unnoticed. What Griffith did not mention, nor was he likely aware, is that the diplomas issued to Jewish students in Padua often differed in a number of ways from the standard university issue. While there was no specific Jewish diploma template per se, as the standard diploma contained a number of Christian references, the diplomas of Jewish graduates invariably contain some combination of omissions or emendations to the standard text.
As part of our investigation into the diploma’s possible forgery, it is important to ascertain whether Samuel’s diploma is a copy of a standard Padua diploma or one of the Jewish variety. Below we list a few of the typical changes found in Padua diplomas of Jewish medical graduates of Samuel’s period, providing examples of each. We then compare them to Samuel’s diploma.
The most obvious change to the Jewish diploma meets the eye of the reader immediately upon viewing the document. The headline of the typical diploma reads, “In Christi Nomine Amen” (in the name of Christ, Amen), and it usually appears in larger decorative font, occasionally occupying an entire page.
William Harvey’s Medical Diploma (Padua 1602)
This would clearly have been objectionable to the Jewish student. The diplomas of the Jewish students were therefore usually emended to read, “In Dei Aeterni Nomine” (in the name of the eternal God), or some variation thereof.
Below are a number of emended diplomas of Jewish students:
Diploma of Isaac Hellen (Padua, 1649)[36]
Diploma of Emanuel Colli (Padua, 1682)[37]
There are number of ways the year of the degree could appear on the typical diploma, and all of them include Christian reference. Examples include Anno Domini, Anno a Christi Nativitate, and Anno Christiano. Two typical examples are below.
Diploma of Giulio Antonio (1679)[38]
Diploma of John Wallace (around 1618)[39]
The date was unaltered for many Jewish diplomas
Diploma of Jacob Levi (Padua, 1684)[40]
Diploma of Isaac Hellen (Padua, 1649)
In some Jewish diplomas however, the Christian reference is omitted, and the date is listed as “currente anno,” current year.
Diploma of Moise Tilche (Padua, 1687)[41]
Diploma of Lazzaro De Mordis (Padua, 1699)[42]
The date alone is not a reliable indicator of the “Jewishness” of the diploma.
The graduation ceremony for the Catholic medical students was held in the Episcopal Palace and this was recorded in the diploma:
Diploma of Giulio Antonio (Padua, 1679)
The degrees of the Jewish students were not granted in the Episcopal Palace, but rather in non-ecclesiastical venues. As such, the words “Episcopali Palatio” are omitted, leaving the phrase “in loco solito examinu,” (in the usual place of examination).[43]
Diploma of Isaac Hellen (Padua, 1649)
This is the case in virtually all Jewish diplomas.
There is one feature of the typical Jewish diploma that is not an emendation or omission, but rather an addition. With few exceptions, the Jewish students were identified as Hebreus or Iudeus. This was the convention in Padua for centuries and was found in other Italian universities as well.[43]
Diploma of Isaac Hellen (Padua, 1649)
Diploma of Emanuel Colli (Padua, 1682)
Diploma of Moise Tilche (Padua, 1687)
There are a few exceptions:
Diploma of Moysis Crespino (Padua, 1647)[45]
Notarized Copy of Diploma of Abraham Wallich (Padua, 1655)[46]
Abraham Wallich graduated Padua in 1655, the same year as Samuel’s diploma. His original diploma is not extant, though we have a notarized copy that he presented to the Jewish community of Frankfurt as proof of his credentials. In this copy, the identifiers of Hebreus or Iudeus do not appear. I suggest that “Iudeus” could have in fact appeared in his original diploma and was possibly omitted here by the copyist. As Wallich was a religious Jew applying to a Jewish institution, it would have been superfluous to add “Hebreus.”
The standard Padua diploma also included a description of the graduation ceremony. This was not altered in the Jewish diplomas as the Jewish students participated in this ceremony, albeit with some changes. While the location may have been different, and perhaps the oath would have been tailored for the Jewish student, the core of the ceremony for the Jewish student otherwise remained the same. A remarkable pictorial testimony to this fact is the diploma of Moise di Pellegrino (AKA Moshe ben Gershon) Tilche, who graduated Padua in 1687.[47]
Underneath the portrait of the graduate is the illustration, represented with putti, of the features of the graduation ceremony of Padua.
This ceremony involved a golden ring, a wreath and a hat, known as a biretta (though not the four-cornered variety). The opening and closing of books as a representation of the transmission of knowledge was also a part of the ceremony.
Was Samuel’s Diploma modeled after a standard or “Jewish” Diploma from Padua?
In review of the Jewish diplomas from Padua of Samuel’s day, the headline was consistently altered, as was the location of the graduation. The typical Christian recording of the year of graduation was occasionally, though not uniformly altered. The majority of the Jewish graduates, with few exceptions, were identified as either Iudeus or Hebreus.
Which of these additions, omissions or alterations appear in Samuel’s diploma?
In his article republishing the existing material on Samuel’s diploma, Neubauer writes, “in order to make the documents concerning this degree accessible to the Anglo-Jewish public, I shall reproduce here the Latin diploma line by line (Neubauer’s emphasis) as given by Koenen.” The text of the diploma he provides begins as follows:
In the original publication by Koenen however, the diploma begins with a short phrase:
Neubauer omitted the introductory words, “In Nomine Dei, Amen,” perhaps assuming they were not part of the diploma, or simply noncontributory to the text. In fact, these four words are crucial in identifying the nature of Samuel’s diploma and reflect one of the major differences found virtually ubiquitously in the Jewish diplomas of Padua.
A typical Christian date is used.
The location of the ceremony is given as the Academy of Oxford.
The identifier Hebreus or Iudeus is not found in Samuel’s diploma.
The headline in Samuel’s diploma is clearly consistent with the Jewish form of diploma. The date is of a Christian format, Anno Christiano, and the location is listed simply as Oxford with no reference to an ecclesiastical venue.
The identifier “Hebreus” is conspicuously absent. To be sure, there were certainly other examples where this was true. However, the omission in Samuel’s case is noteworthy, as his own father, Menasseh, self-identified as Medicus Hebreus, as did other Jewish physicians in Amsterdam, such as Ephraim Bueno. Surely the son would have adopted the title of the father.
In sum, the headline of Samuel’s diploma, a crucial element in determining its style, conforms to the Jewish Padua diploma, as does the venue for the degree, which is non-ecclesiastic. While the date retains the Christian reference, this is non-contributory. Samuel’s diploma does however omit the typical Jewish identifier of Hebreus, a title specifically used by his own father, a fact that begs explanation.
Other Medical Diploma Forgeries of the Seventeenth Century
If Samuel’s diploma were indeed a forgery, it would be the only known case of a forged medical diploma by a Jewish physician in the pre-Modern era. To be sure, there have been numerous forgeries of diplomas, including the medical variety, throughout history. Below we discuss two forgeries of the same historical period as Samuel and purported to be from the two very institutions with which Samuel’s diploma is associated. These may shed light on our forgery discussion.
A Forged Medical Diploma from Padua 1628
The diploma of John Wallace sat in the Royal College of Physicians for centuries, assumed to be genuine. It was only recently that Dr. Fabrizio Bigotti took a closer look at the diploma, revealing that it was a clear forgery.[48] Below you see the latinized name of Wallace clearly written in a different pen and different hand than that of the original diploma.
The year of graduation, 1628, was also altered.
The date was proven to be fake, as the authentic signatures at the end of the diploma include Fabrici d’Acquapendente and Adrian van de Spiegel, both of whom had died by 1628. The true date is assumed to be around 1618.
In this case of forgery, Wallace procured an existing diploma and replaced the name and date with his own. There is apparently no record of his medical practice, so it is unclear if his forgery was successful. Perhaps he forged this diploma with intent to present to Oxford for incorporation. I do not know if the RCP checked the Oxford Register of Congregation for the relevant years.[49]
The Frankland Forgery of an Oxford Diploma[50]
In the diary entry for Anthony Wood, Oxford antiquary, for November 15, 1677, we find the following:[51]
Frankland first presented his false credentials in 1667.[52] He was apparently a haughty and disagreeable man disliked by his colleagues at the college. It was his juniors who raised suspicion about his credentials and privately inquired of Dr. Hyde, King’s Professor of Physic, as well as the registrar, to verify his documents. The forgery was confirmed by Oxford in November 1677,[53] when it was determined that Frankland was not listed in the Medical School Register and that he had forged the university seal.[54] Furthermore, Frankland defrauded Cambridge University, which granted him a medical degree solely on the basis of his previously obtained Oxford diploma. Frankland not only forged the university seal of Oxford, which was an integral part of the official document, he seems to have added an element to the diploma which was a tip off as to its forgery. Dr. Brady of Cambridge reported:[55]
This exact issue was also identified by Griffith as one of the elements of Samuel’s diploma that deviated from Oxford protocols. Of course, with Samuel’s diploma, this was one of many deviations from Oxford’s template; for Frankland, this was more essential in identifying the forgery.
These two forgeries from Samuel’s period, and from the very institutions associated with his diploma are instructive. If Samuel was truly a forger, could or should he have pursued the methods of Wallace or Frankland?
A Padua Diploma Forgery ala Wallace
Forging a genuine Padua diploma would have been more challenging than one from Oxford for a number of reasons, both technical and cultural. While objectively few Jewish students attended the University of Padua Medical School,[56] it was the main address for Jewish students wishing to obtain a university medical degree. While far from Amsterdam, the Jews of Europe were all connected. In addition, Amsterdam was a hub of Jewish printing and a number of works by Italian authors were printed there. A forged medical diploma could possibly have been detected by Italian visitors. It would have been risky.
From a technical perspective, the Padua diploma, in Italian Renaissance fashion, was copiously illustrated and meticulously calligraphed, often including a portrait of the graduate. A number of these diplomas are extant in libraries and private collections.[57] It would have been exceedingly difficult to replicate the diploma itself, not to mention that it was typically bound in a gilded leather binding with official wax seals attached by thread.
Picture Courtesy of Professor Fabrizio Bigotti
All these accoutrements would have made the endeavor of forgery prohibitive from the outset.
There could have been another option for a Padua diploma forgery. Abraham Wallach had a notarized copy of his 1655 Padua diploma made for his job application as a community physician in Frankfurt.[58]
Beginning of the copy of the diploma:
Notarization of the diploma:
Perhaps Samuel could have created a similar “notarized” copy, which would not have required the artistry or associated binding and seals. This option would likely not have sufficed for Samuel, who as the “graduate,” would have been expected to possess and present the original.
Could Samuel have obtained an existing Padua diploma and simply replaced the name of the graduate with his own, as Wallace had done? This would certainly have been easier than forging the diploma de novo. However, recall that the Padua diplomas of the Jewish students had some alterations, the most obvious one being the headline change from In Christi Nomine to In Dei Aeterne Nomine, not to mention other more subtle, less noticeable changes. Samuel would have had to procure an old diploma that previously belonged to a Jewish student, an impossible task.
An Oxford Diploma ala Frankland
Should Samuel have created a diploma more in line with the actual Oxford model, as Frankland, whose forged university seal and diploma were sufficient to fool even the Royal College of Physicians and Cambridge University? Had he produced a Frankland-esque diploma no one would have suspected otherwise, as no Jew had ever obtained or presented an Oxford diploma before. While this could have been an ideal forgery,[59] I suggest below why this may not have served Samuel’s needs.
The Medical Training and Practice of Samuel ben Menasseh
Irrespective of the veracity of his diploma, Samuel appears to have been a practicing physician. Samuel is listed as a physician by both Steinschneider[60] and Koren,[61] each of whom provides additional references. He is also listed in an early twentieth century work among a group of exceptionally prominent Jewish physicians across the ages.[62] Moreover, his tombstone identifies him as a physician. To my knowledge we do not have any specific account of his clinical practice.
As we have no direct evidence as to how Samuel trained in medicine, we can only surmise based on the general climate of Jewish medical training at the time, coupled with whatever fragmentary evidence we have of Samuel’s personal medical exposure.
Samuel had personal exposure to both the apprenticeship and university pathways of medical training. His father most likely obtained his education through the apprenticeship pathway. Samuel certainly could have learned the medical art from his father Menasseh, though the biographies of Menasseh reveal that he had little time, if any, for the practice of medicine. It would have been difficult for Samuel to acquire comprehensive medical knowledge without prolonged extensive clinical exposure, something his father could not provide.
Though Menasseh himself may not have had the time to mentor his son, he could have delegated the task to one of his physician colleagues.[63] Ephraim Bueno, for example, was a prominent physician in Amsterdam with whom Menasseh had a relationship.[64] Bueno supported Menasseh’s first publication.[65] They also both shared the distinction of having their portraits drawn by Rembrandt.[66] Perhaps Samuel apprenticed with, or at the very least, was inspired by Bueno.
Had he desired, Samuel could have obtained a formal university medical degree. In the early part of the seventeenth century, this would only have been possible in Italy, and primarily at the University of Padua. Traveling to Padua, however, would entail leaving the family and other potential hardships, such as the language barrier. Fortunately, beginning in the mid-century universities in the Netherlands (primarily Leiden), following in the footsteps of Padua, began opening their doors to Jewish medical students for the first time.[67] In fact, Samuel’s cousin Josephus Abarbanel, who also lived in Amsterdam, graduated from the University of Leiden on June 2, 1655, just a few weeks after Samuel received his Oxford diploma.[68]
Which option/pathway did Samuel choose? Though his diploma is Padua-esque, there is no record of Samuel attending the University of Padua. There is also no record of his attendance or graduation from any school in the Netherlands.
Samuel certainly would not have attended the University of Oxford as a student. Professing Jews were not allowed there. Moreover, it would also have required his presence in England for a prolonged period, which, by all accounts was not the case. Roth writes regarding the likelihood of Samuel obtaining an Oxford degree, “it was as difficult for a Jew to be graduated from it (Oxford) as it would have been for an anthropoid ape.”[69] This unwelcoming climate for the Jews persisted even long after the return of the Jews to England.[70] In fact, in Herman Adler’s lecture on the Jews of England in the late nineteenth century, he comments on the medical degree of Samuel, which he assumed to be authentic: “This fact (granting a medical diploma to the Jew Samuel ben Israel) would seem to show that the university was more enlightened in the year 1655 than it is in 1870.”[71]
Samuel’s “For Jewry” Diploma
I suggest that Samuel trained primarily through the apprenticeship pathway but requested and received university acknowledgement or imprimatur of his medical education and knowledge. The diploma was thus an affirmation of Samuel’s expertise attested to by members of the Oxford faculty. As opposed to today, when a student must attend a certain number of years in a university as a prerequisite to obtaining a degree, universities often gave exams and imprimatur to those who studied elsewhere, either formally or not, but passed the required examination demonstrating the required knowledge and competence. This could explain the unusual nature of the diploma he procured from Oxford.
While many Jewish physicians in this period practiced freely without university education or diplomas, there may have been an additional impetus for Samuel to procure this affirmation from Oxford. The Dutch were generally known for their tolerance, but this apparently did not extend to the Jews and the practice of medicine. According to historians, “Although Jews with foreign degrees were permitted to engage in medicine as general practitioners, tolerance was not extended to tertiary education.”[72] Thus, even though Samuel may have been qualified to practice by virtue of his apprenticeship, and could have practiced freely in other European countries, his practice in the Netherlands would have been limited without a foreign degree.[73]
Do the existing facts and diploma support this theory?
The Signatories
The two signatories on Samuel’s diploma were Dr. John Owen and Dr. Clayton at Oxford. Owen was a friend of Cromwell and Vice Chancellor of the University at that time. Thomas Clayton was Regius Professor of Medicine at Oxford from 1647 to 1665. These were not fictional characters, and if one were to obtain an affirmation of medical knowledge or education, these would be the perfectly appropriate people to attest to such a document. Given Menasseh’s connections, it is not inconceivable that he utilized his influence to arrange for his son’s exams, or that they acceded to Samuel’s request out of deference to Menasseh.
The Absence from the Oxford Register
Griffith highlights the fact that Samuel’s degree is not found in the Oxford Register. Indeed, no professing Jews were listed in the register at Oxford at that time. According to our theory, this absence from the Register is no proof of forgery. There was not the slightest thought of entering this exchange into the official university Register, as not only did it not meet the standard protocols, the recipient was also of the Jewish faith and expressly precluded from such a privilege. Samuel may have assured the examiners that he had no intention of practicing in the United Kingdom, a fact that would have made it easier for them to feel comfortable affixing their names to the document.
Likelihood of Exposure
If indeed Samuel were prone to deceit, what is the likelihood his rouse would have been discovered? His father would certainly have realized.[74] The very purpose of Samuel’s trip was to pave the path for his father’s visit. Samuel was thus expecting his father to later visit England and likely interact with the very same people he did. Indeed, Menasseh appears to have visited Oxford.[75] Surely Samuel’s diploma would have come up in conversation, if only peripherally. This alone could have served as a deterrent for forgery. Additionally, John Owen, a signatory on the diploma, was a close friend of Cromwell’s, and a forgery could have been revealed through this avenue. If one were to arbitrarily choose Oxford faculty for a fake diploma, better not to choose someone whose trail could ultimately lead to disclosure.
A forgery would have been suspected, if not revealed, from another source. Samuel’s cousin Joseph Abarbanel completed his medical training in Leiden at the very same time as Samuel’s diploma was issued, and also lived in Amsterdam. He surely would have been suspicious if Samuel suddenly started practicing medicine after a forged Oxford diploma emerged de novo and appeared, metaphorically, framed on Samuel’s office wall.
The Text of the Diploma- An Oxford-Padua Synthesis ala Samuel ben Menasseh
Working with our new theory, which type of diploma would Samuel have procured or designed had he genuinely presented to Oxford and successfully passed oral exams from the university faculty? This would not have been an official, formal process, but rather a unique private opportunity to confirm his medical expertise with the Oxford faculty. As this was a personalized, non-institutional diploma, the examiners would not have much cared or paid attention as to the diploma’s format and could have left the document particulars to Samuel.
I suggest, therefore, that Samuel designed the document in a way that would best serve his needs and would be well-received by his Jewish clientele in the Netherlands. A brief informal text with attestation from the Oxford professors would have been unfamiliar and unimpressive to his Jewish patients.[76] Virtually the only diploma a Jewish university-trained physician would have possessed in this period is a diploma from the University of Padua.[77] He therefore utilized the familiar Padua template, as awkward and inconsistent with Oxford’s typical diploma it may have been. Furthermore, he made sure to use the emended headline and non-ecclesiastic venue consistent with the “Jewish” diploma.
Why did Samuel not include the term “Hebreus,” which would surely have been familiar to the Jewish viewers of the diploma, not to mention following in the path of his father, who was known as “Medicus Hebraeus?” It is possible that Samuel would have specifically omitted this title given the history of the degree-granting institution. Professing Jews were categorically precluded from attending or graduating Oxford. While the signators may not have paid close attention to the details of the diploma, the word Hebreus after Samuel’s name would likely have caught their eye, especially as it appears adjacent to the graduate’s name.
There are numerous elements in the diploma that were simply untrue. For example, included is a description of the graduation, as cited by Graetz. Did Samuel actually participate in a formal graduation from Oxford? Whether Samuel obtained a genuine diploma of some sort from Oxford can be debated, but there is no doubt that as a professing Jew in England at this time he would never have participated in any formal graduation ceremony. Samuel may have disregarded these details favoring style over substance in order to achieve his objective. The signators would likely not have bothered to analyze the text.
Not a single Jew would have known the difference, let alone read the Latin document, nor would they have questioned further.[78] They would have seen a document that appeared in style and largely in substance similar to the diplomas they had seen previously. Samuel’s father would have been proud of his son’s accomplishment, as would his cousin Josephus Abrabanel, who later graduated from Leiden. Menasseh could also have personally thanked Drs. Owens and Clayton for their kindness when he visited Oxford a short time later. If this construct is true then Samuel’s diploma would not have been a forgery, but rather “for Jewry,” being designed intentionally with the Jewish community in mind, and in the context of Jewish medical history.
Postscript
Whether forged on not, Samuel sadly had but little time to utilize the Oxford diploma dated May 1655. Later that month he returned to Amsterdam, diploma in hand, to persuade his father to go to England and personally lay his case before Cromwell. Two years later, Manasseh ben Israel arrived in London, accompanied by Samuel. Samuel tragically died during their stay. In accordance with Samuel’s dying wish, Manasseh ben Israel conveyed his son’s corpse back to Holland where he was buried on 2 Tishrei, 5418. Below is a picture of the grave of Samuel ben Israel in the Middleburg Cemetery, 1912, shortly after it was renovated.[79]
Here is a picture of the grave and tombstone today:[80]
His medical identity is forever enshrined on his tombstone, where he is referred to as “Doctor Semuel.”[81]
Roth writes, “It seems obvious that the honorific description (on the tombstone) has its basis the supposed Oxford degree.”[82] I beg to differ. Many Jewish physicians were trained through apprenticeship and never obtained university degrees, Samuel’s own father being a case in point, and they were nonetheless known as physicians. I believe Samuel could have been such a physician.
Menasseh himself died shortly thereafter on Nov. 20, 1657, before reaching his home at Middelburg, Zealand.
Which account is closer to the truth? Was Samuel an ambitious and accomplished student of medicine, honestly earning some form of an Oxford diploma, perhaps not unlike Friedberg’s description at the beginning of this article; or was he an unabashed imposter possessing no medical training, brazenly forging a medical diploma, and practicing medicine without proper training? Historians have been quick to condemn Samuel, though they have neglected to incorporate the history of Jewish medical training into their analyses. Ultimately, I suggest that the truth lies in the chasm between these two polar extremes. Closer to which one? I leave to the reader to decide. At the very minimum I believe we have provided enough evidence to at least create reasonable doubt as to whether Samuel the son of the right honorable Menasseh ben Israel committed willful forgery of his medical diploma.
[1] Also known as Samuel Abravanel Soeyro. See Moritz Steinschneider “Judische Aertze,” Zeitschrift fur Hebraeische Bibliographie 18: 1-3 (January-June, 1915), p. 45, n. 1923. Abravanel is taken from his mother’s family and Soeyro from his father’s family. Both names have multiple variant spellings.
[2] Cecil Roth, A Life of Menasseh Ben Israel: Rabbi, Printer, and Diplomat (Jewish Publication Society, 1945); Jeremy Nadler, Menasseh ben Israel: Rabbi of Amsterdam (Yale University Press, 2018). See also the wonderful online exhibit, “Menasseh ben Israel, rabbi, scholar, philosopher, diplomat and Hebrew printer, 1604-1657,” curated by Dr. Eva Frojmovic of the University of Leeds.
[3] For a history of Jewish physicians as printers, see J. O. Leibowitz, “Jewish Physicians Active as Printers,” (Hebrew) Harofe Haivri Hebrew Medical Journal 1 (1952), 112-120; Hindle Hes, “The Van Embden Family as Physicians and Printers in Amsterdam,” (Hebrew) Koroth 6:11-12 (August, 1975), 719-723.
[4] https://benyehuda.org/read/3230#fn:173, Zichronot LiBeit David vol 4 (Achiasaf Publications, Warsaw, 1897).
[5] Friedberg himself references the mention of the diploma in Meyer Kayserling’s The Life and Labours of Menasseh Ben Israel (London, 1877). 63 and 92, n. 241.
[6] Friedenwald mentions Menasseh, but as opposed to his other entries, adds justification for his inclusion in his work: “He is included in this list because several of his works bear his name with the title Medicus Hebraeus,” as well as his identifying as a Doctor of Physick in his letter to the Lord Protector. See Harry Friedenwald, The Jews and Medicine vol. 2 (Johns Hopkins Press: Baltimore, 1944), 739. Menassah is also is listed in Koren under the spelling Manasseh ben Israel. See Nathan Koren, Jewish Physicians: A Biographical Index (Israel Universities Press: Jerusalem, 1973), 89.
[7] Roth, op. cit., Menasseh, 109.
[8] While Bueno is famous for his portrait drawn by Rembrandt, his portrait was also drawn later in life by another Dutch artist, Jan Lievens. The description underneath the painting, Dor Ephraim Bonus Medicus Hebraeus, found in the collection of Joods Historisch Museum Amsterdam, can be seen below:
[9] This work is not extant. See Roth, op. cit., Menasseh, 314, n. 17.
[10] I. M. Librach, “Medicine and Menasseh Ben Israel,” Medical History 4:3 (July, 1960), 256-258 discusses Menasseh’s connection to physicians. Librach suggests that the close relationship between religion and medicine among the Jews has led some historians, notably Henry Milman (1863) to regard Menasseh as a physician as well as a rabbi. For further reference to Menasseh’s physician friends see Ernestine G.E. Van Der Wall, “Petrus Serrarius and Menasseh ben Israel: Christian Millenarianism and Jewish Messianism in Seventeenth Century Amsterdam,” in Yosef Kaplan, et. al., eds., Menasseh Ben Israel and His World (E. J. Brill: Leiden, 1989), 172; George M. Weisz and William Albury, “Rembrandt’s Jewish Physician- Dr. Ephraim Beuno (1599-1665): A Brief Medical History,” Rambam Maimonides Medical Journal 4:2 (April, 2013).
[11] Van Der Wall, op. cit., 165.
[12] Personal communication with Hans Froon of the Central Medical Library in Groningen (December, 2020).
[13] Roth, op. cit., Menasseh, 42, 109, 314, 341
[14] This picture of the epitaph appears in Cecil Roth, “New Light on the Resettlement,” Transactions of the Jewish Historical Society 11 (1924-1927), facing p. 118.
[15] For articles on the training of Jewish medical students, see Harry Friedenwald, “The Jewish Medical Student of Former Days,” Menorah Journal 7:1 (February, 1921), 52-62; Cecil Roth, “The Medieval University and the Jew,” Menorah Journal 19:2 (November-December, 1930), 128-141; Idem, “The Qualification of Jewish Physicians in the Middle Ages,” Speculum 28 (1953), 834-843; Joseph Shatzmiller, “On Becoming a Jewish Doctor in the High Middle Ages,” Sefarad 43 (1983), 239-249. Idem, Jews, Medicine and Medieval Society (University of California Press: Berkeley, 1994), esp. 14-27; John Efron, “The Emergence of the Medieval Jewish Physician,” in his Medicine and the German Jews: A History (Yale University Press: New Haven, 2001), 13-33; Edward Reichman, “From Maimonides the Physician to the Physician at Maimonides Medical Center: The Training of the Jewish Medical Student throughout the Ages,” Verapo Yerape: The Journal of Torah and Medicine of the Albert Einstein College of Medicine 3 (2011), 1-25; Nimrod Zinger, Ba’alei haShem vihaRofeh (Haifa University, 2017), 242-251.
[16] The University of Padua was the first to formally allow admission of Jews to its medical school.
[17] It is possible that there were titles that distinguished between university and non-university trained physicians, such as rofeh mumheh, but this requires further study.
[18] H. J. Koenen, Geschiedenis der Joden in Nederland (Utrecht, 1843), 440-444.
[19] Gabriel Isaac Polak, Seerith Jisrael: Lotgevallen der Joden in alle werelddeelen van af de verwoesting des tweeden tempels tot het jaar 1770 (Amsterdam, 1855), 549.
[20] Heinrich Graetz, History of the Jews vol. 5 (Jewish Publication Society: Philadelphia, 1956), 38.
[21] Herman Nathan Adler clearly follows Graetz in his, The Jews of England A Lecture (Longmans, Green and Co.: London, 1870), 23.
[22] Since the initial publication of Griffith’s letter was in an obscure inaccessible journal, both the transcription of the diploma as well as Griffith’s letter were later republished. All the documents and articles are reproduced in Rev. Dr. Adler, “A Homage to Menasseh ben Israel,” Transactions of the Jewish Historical Society of England 1 (1893-1894), 25-54, esp. 48-54. This explains why some scholars were unaware of Griffith’s conclusions until years later. For additional comments and analysis, see Cecil Roth, A Life of Menasseh Ben Israel (Jewish Publication Society: Philadelphia, 1934), 221-222 and 337-339; Idem, “The Jews in English Universities,” Miscellanies of the Jewish Historical Society of England 4 (1942), 102-115, esp. 105, n. 14.
[23] Griffith lists fifteen differences in the form of the diploma from that of Oxford.
[24] Statutes of the University of Oxford codified in the year 1636, under the authority of Archbp. Laud, Chancellor of the University, with an introduction on the history of the Laudian Code by C.L. Shadwell, ed. by John Griffiths, 1888. See p. 126. For the study of medicine at Oxford in the seventeenth century see chapter by Robert G Frank Jr. entitled “Medicine” in The History of the University of Oxford, volume IV: Seventeenth Century Oxford (ed. N Tyacke, Clarendon Press, 1997). For a more general study of the period, see Phyllis Allen, “Medical Education in 17th Century England” Journal of the History of Medicine and Allied Sciences 1:1 (January 1, 1946), 115-143.
[25] G. R. M. Ward, Oxford University Statutes (1845), 53-54, 117-118, 128-131.
[26] Oxford’s Register of Congregation during this period contains numerous examples of Padua students applying for incorporation.
[27] Alphei Menasheh Catologus of J. S. Da Silva Rosa (Portugeesch Israelietische Seminarium: Amsterdam, 1927), 25, no. V. lists a picture of the first and last pages of the diploma in the possession of the Montezinos Library.
[28] Roth did not mention if he possessed copies of the entire text of the diploma.
[29] I thank Heide Warncke, Curator of the Ets Haim Library for her assistance.
[30] I thank Rachel Boertjens, Curator of the Bibliotheca Rosenthaliana for her assistance.
[31] I thank Eva Frojmovic and the staff of the Roth Collection at University of Leeds for their assistance. The cataloguing of the Roth Collection is an ongoing process and there is a fair amount of material still uncatalogued. I am hopeful the copies of the diploma will one day surface there.
[32] In the interest of full disclosure, I recently wrote an article entitled, “Confessions of a Would-be Forger: The Medical Diploma of Tobias Cohn (Tuvia Ha-Rofeh) and Other Jewish Medical Graduates of the University of Padua.” I am not however personally inclined to forgery. I would be happy to send the reader a copy of my medical diploma upon request, once I am able to locate it.
[33] David S. Katz, Philo-Semitism and the Readmission of the Jews to England, 1603-1655 (Oxford University Press, 1982), 197.
[34] Roth, op. cit., Menasseh, 338-339
[35] Roth, op. cit., Menasseh, 338-339.
[36] Germanisches Nationalmuseum, reference no. HA, Pergamenturkunden, Or. Perg. 1649 Juli 09.
[37] A copy of the full diploma is accessible through the Magnes Online Collection, http://magnesalm.org (accessed January 5, 2021).
[38] See G. Baldissin Molli, L. Sitran Rea, and E. Veronese Ceseracciu, Diplomi di Laurea all’Università di Padova (1504–1806) (Padova: Università degli studi di Padova, 1998), diploma C21, p. 151.
[39] See below for further discussion of this diploma, which is a forgery. The body of the diploma, including the relevant phrase cited here, is original and dates to around 1618.
[40] This diploma is housed in the Umberto Nahon Museum of Italian Jewish Art in Jerusalem. See http://www.museumsinisrael.gov.il/en/items/Pages/ItemCard.aspx?IdItem=ICMS-EIT-0076. The museum website provides a description of the diploma and a picture of the outer cover. I thank Dr. Andreina Contessa, former Chief Curator of the U. Nahon Museum, for kindly furnishing me with pictures of the entire diploma. I thank Sharon Liberman Mintz for bringing this diploma to my attention.
[41] The diploma is in the William Gross Collection and is available for viewing at the website of the National Library of Israel, system number 990036743400205171 (accessed January 3, 2021). I thank Sharon Liberman Mintz for bringing this diploma to my attention.
[42] NLI, system number 990035370060205171.
[43] Of course it was not “the usual place of examination,” but this text allowed for the least amount of deviation from the diploma template.
[44] See, for example, the diploma of Chananya Modigliani from Siena, 1628 in the Jewish Theological Seminary Library, MS 8519.
[45] NLI, system number 990034232880205171.
[46] Stadt Frankfurt am Main, Altes Archiv – Städtische Überlieferung bis 1868, Medicinalia, Akten, Nr. 250 (fol. 51-52v).
[47] For an expansive discussion on the diplomas of Jewish medical students from the University of Padua, see Edward Reichman, “Confessions of a Would-be Forger: The Medical Diploma of Tobias Cohn (Tuvia Ha-Rofeh) and Other Jewish Medical Graduates of the University of Padua,” in Kenneth Collins and Samuel Kottek, eds., Ma’ase Tuviya (Venice, 1708): Tuviya Cohen on Medicine and Science (Jerusalem: Muriel and Philip Berman Medical Library of the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, 2019), in press.
[48] Pamela Forde, “Power and Beauty: Fakes and Forgeries,” (December 11, 2015) Royal College of Physicians Museum. I thank Dr. Bigotti of Centre for the Study of Medicine and the Body in the Renaissance, Domus Comeliana Pisa (Italy) for providing me the images of this diploma.
[49] I do not have access to the relevant years.
[50] For the most expansive discussion of the Frankland affair see William Munk, The Roll of the Royal College of Physicians of London vol 1, 1518-1700 (Longman: London, 1861), 358ff.
[51] Andrew Clark, The Life and Times of Anthony Wood, Antiquary, of Oxford, 1632-1695, Described by Himself vol. 2 (Clarendon Press: Oxford, 1892), 392-393.
[52] Munk, op. cit., 359.
[53] Munk, op. cit., 360.
[54] Munk, op. cit., 363.
[55] Munk, op. cit., 362.
[56] For a list of the Jewish students attending the University of Padua during Samuel’s time, see Abdelkader Modena and Edgardo Morpurgo, Medici E Chirurghi Ebrei Dottorati E Licenziati Nell Universita Di Padova dal 1617 al 1816 (Bologna, 1967). This list has been supplemented over the years, but the overall numbers are not significantly different.
[57] For a collection of diplomas from the University of Padua, see G. Baldissin Molli, L. Sitran Rea, and E. Veronese Ceseracciu, Diplomi di Laurea all’Università di Padova (1504–1806) (Padova: Università degli studi di Padova, 1998). Only a very small percentage of the diplomas in this book are from the medical school. For examples of diplomas from other Italian universities, see Honor et Meritus: Diplomi di Laurea dal XV al XX Secolo, ed. F. Farina and S. Pivato (Rimini: Panozzo Editore, 2005), a catalogue of an exhibition held in 2006 to mark the 500th anniversary of the founding of the University of Urbino.
[58] For more on Abraham Wallich and other physician family members of the Wallich family, see, Edward Reichman, “The Medical Training of Dr. Isaac Wallich: A Thrice-Told Tale in Leiden (1675), Padua (1683) and Halle (1703),” Hakirah, in press.
[59] It is possible that Samuel was simply unaware of the composition and protocols of the Oxford degree, as he would not have had occasion to see one. Perhaps he was attempting to mimic a genuine Oxford diploma, but just erroneously assumed it was similar to that of Padua.
[60] Moritz Steinschneider “Judische Aertze,” Zeitschrift fur Hebraeische Bibliographie 18: 1-3 (January-June, 1915), p. 45, n. 1923. He is listed as “Samuel (b. Menasseh) b. Israel Abravanel-Soeyro (Suerus).”
[61] Nathan Koren, Jewish Physicians: A Biographical Index (Israel Universities Press: Jerusalem, 1973), 126. He is listed as “Soeiro Samuel Abrabanel of Amsterdam, son of Menasseh ben Israel, grad. in Oxford.”
[62] Dov Bear Turis, Shiva Kokhvei Lekhet (Warsaw, 5687), 16. Menasseh is not mentioned in this list.
[63] I thank Heidi Warncke for this suggestion.
[64] On Bueno, see, for example, George Weisz and William Albury, “Rembrandt’s Jewish Physician Dr. Ephraim Beuno (1599-1665): A Brief Medical History,” Rambam Maimonides Medical Journal 4:2 (April 2013), 1-4.
[65] Sefer Penei Rabah (Amsterdam, 1628)
[66] See Steven Nadler, Rembrandt’s Jews (University of Chicago, 2003). Nadler discusses the debate as to whether Rembrandt actually painted a portrait of Menasseh ben Israel. In either case, both Bueno and Menasseh were well acquainted with Rembrandt, who lived in the Jewish quarter of Amsterdam.
[67] Hindle S. Hes, Jewish Physicians in the Netherlands (Van Gorcum, Assen, 1980); Kenneth Collins, “Jewish Medical Students and Graduates at the Universities of Padua and Leiden: 1617-1740,” Rambam Maimonides Medical Journal 4:1 (January, 2013), 1-8; M. Komorowski, Bio-bibliographisches Verzeichnis jüdischer Doktoren im 17. und 18. Jahrhundert (K. G. Saur Verlag: Munchen, 1991). Komorowski, p. 33, lists the dissertations of a handful of Jewish graduates of Netherland universities prior to 1650.
[68] Hes, op. cit., 3, Komorowski, op. cit., 33. Josephus was Menasseh’s first cousin. His dissertation was entitled “De Phthisi.” Joseph’s father, Jonah, joined Bueno in supporting Menasseh ben Israel’s book, Penei Rabah. Joseph Abarbanel was later excommunicated by the Sephardic community for rejecting the prohibition against buying poultry from Ashkenazi Jews. See Yosef Kaplan, An Alternative Path to Modernity: The Sephardic Diaspora in Western Europe (Brill, 2000), 136.
[69] Roth, op. cit., Menasseh, 221. The only Jews who would have attended Oxcam at this time would have been converts to Christianity, though Jews from birth. See Cecil Roth, “The Jews in English Universities,” Miscellanies of the Jewish Historical Society of England 4 (1942), 102-115. This is why Roth comments that the diploma is a “not too skillful forgery of an inherently improbable doctorate.” Roth adds that into the eighteenth century the climate for Jews at the universities in England was so unwelcoming that even native English Jews travelled abroad to Germany, Netherlands, Scotland, or Italy to obtain their medical degrees.
[70] Until the 1800’s Jews could not graduate Oxford or Cambridge unless they professed their belief in Christianity. See Joseph L. Cohen, “The Jewish Student at Oxford and Cambridge,” Menora Journal 3 (1917), 16-23.
[71] Graetz, op. cit., also wrote, “It was no insignificant circumstance that this honor should be conferred upon a Jew by a university strictly Christian in conduct.”
[72] Weisz and Albury, op. cit.
[73] Admittedly, this is also a strong motivation for forgery, but I shall leave this line of argument for the prosecution.
[74] Roth comments that, “it is impossible to believe that Menasseh ben Israel can have been a party to the deception. One can only imagine that he was a victim of it.”
[75] Roth, op. cit., Menasseh, 251-252.
[76] It likely would not have sufficed for the Dutch government either.
[77] While the universities of the Netherlands had begun issuing diplomas to Jewish students, the Padua diploma would still have been far more common.
[78] Would the Dutch government have accepted such a document? The record is silent on this question.
[79] https://www.zeeuwseankers.nl/verhaal/portugese-joden-in-zeeland. In 1911/1912 English Jews visited Middelburg and found the grave in decay. They told the city that a very important person is buried there who played a vital role (together with his father of course) in the readmission of the Jews in England. The gravestone was renovated, and possibly raised at that stage, and a chain was put around it. I thank Heide Warncke, Curator of the Ets Haim Library in Amsterdam for the information and references.
[80] https://www.omroepzeeland.nl/nieuws/100031/Joodse-begraafplaatsen-verstopt-in-Middelburg.
[81] Ephraim Bueno is also identified as a physician on his tombstone. Picture in Weisz and Albury, op. cit.
On the tombstone on the left, the end of the second line reads, Dor (doctor).
Joseph Abarbanel, while identified in the Ouderkerk Cemetery record as a physician, is not identified as such on his tombstone (inscription at the bottom of the document).
I thank Heide Warnicke for her assistance with the translation of these tombstones.
[83] Roth, op. cit., Menasseh, 139. Nadler echoes the same sentiment, adding that no one suspected the ruse in his lifetime as his gravestone identifies him as a doctor. See Nadler, op. cit., 263.
Depicting Difference: The Tower of Babel and the Language of Sacred Art
“For form is only the manifestation, the shape of content.”
Ben Shahn, The Shape of Content, p. 72
Genesis chapter 11 presents the narrative of the Tower of Babel, detailing how, contrary to the divine directive to disperse and populate the earth, the descendants of the flood’s survivors congregated in a single city and commenced construction of a substantial tower. God intervened to prevent further cooperation among them by disrupting their shared language, thereby introducing linguistic diversity, which ultimately ceased the building process and resulted in the broad dispersal of the population.
The account of the Tower of Babel offers a unique context for exploring what characterizes an image—and, by extension, a work of art—as Jewish. In Christian artistic traditions, from medieval illuminations to Renaissance paintings, the tower is often portrayed as a symbol of pride and serves as a cautionary emblem against human ambition. In contrast, Jewish philosophy and visual culture do not treat the tower as an important iconographic motif or as a warning against aspiration. Where the story does appear in Jewish art, it offers an alternative interpretation, and in certain instances, it recasts the tower motif in a more positive light.
The Architecture of Arrogance: Bruegel’s Tower and the Christian Moral Imagination

Figure 1: Pieter Bruegel, The Tower of Babel, Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna
Among the most celebrated representations of the Tower of Babel is Pieter Bruegel the Elder’s painting housed in Vienna’s Kunsthistorisches Museum (we previously discussed another painting from the museum, Samuel van Hoogstraten’s Old Man at a Window, and whether it is a Jewish painting, its subject a famous Rabbi). Measuring over three feet wide and five feet high, this work features a monumental spiral structure composed of arches and tiers that ascend unevenly into the clouds. The immense scale of the tower stands in stark contrast to the small human figures depicted throughout—hundreds of workers engaged in various tasks. Bruegel’s paintings are notable for their comprehensive and detailed portrayal of subjects. (This site allows you to zoom in on all the details.) In this scene, each trade and stage of construction is rendered with meticulous attention; some laborers transport massive stone blocks along ramps, while oxen-pulled carts bear heavy loads of building materials. Human-powered treadwheel cranes lift supplies upward, and scaffolding constructed from poles, planks, and ropes clings to the sides of the tower. Masons apply mortar and lay bricks, carpenters reinforce beams, and overseers direct operations, attempting to manage the complexity and activity inherent in such an undertaking.
In the foreground, King Nimrod, adorned in elaborate robes and a crown, oversees the construction as the principal architect of the tower. He reviews architectural plans with his attendants while laborers kneel. Surrounding him, foremen gesture towards the ascending walls, effectively conveying his directives to the assembled workforce. Beyond the imposing structure of the tower, ships are visible entering the harbor, their masts prominent on the horizon.
Bruegel often used allegory in his work. By integrating contemporary construction methods and maritime elements into the depiction of the ancient story, he placed Babel in the context of his own time. The painting presents examples of human innovation alongside the risks associated with ambitious endeavors, making its observations applicable from the 16th century to the present day.[1]

Figure 2: 13th Century Manuscript of Rudolf von Ems Poetry

Figure 3: 14th Century York Manuscript
Earlier artistic portrayals commonly focused on Babel’s height and grandeur. Medieval manuscripts and Church paintings often depicted it as upright, rectilinear, and monumental, resembling a fortress or cathedral spire. In contrast, Bruegel presents the tower as unstable, leaning, and showing deterioration at its foundation, while construction continues at the upper levels. The structure appears to challenge natural order by being built atop a mountain and using brick, which leads to rock formations that affect its stability. Bruegel incorporates Roman arches reminiscent of the Colosseum, suggesting parallels to historical architecture that had fallen into decline by the time of his visit in 1560. Some areas are already inhabited; for example, a woman is seen hanging laundry. The residents appear unaware of the structural issues beneath them, blinded by their hubris. Nimrod’s prominence in the foreground, with the workers genuflecting to him and his plans that he holds in his hands, further emphasizes the fetishization of human ambition.
At the time, Bruegel’s audience didn’t have to look far to see a potential Babel in the making: Antwerp was booming, expanding, and building like never before, and its populace risked falling into the sin of pride. In 1563, when Bruegel painted the Tower of Babel, the city was Europe’s busiest port and a magnet for wealth, with goods and materials streaming in daily through the Scheldt River. Massive new fortifications were under construction to secure the city’s growth, while the Cathedral of Our Lady still stood unfinished, its single soaring spire a symbol of grandeur halted midstream. Cranes, treadwheels, scaffolding, and teams of laborers were familiar sights on Antwerp’s skyline, all details Bruegel carefully folded into his painting. Even the ships visible in the harbor of his Babel recall Antwerp’s bustling docks, tying the biblical story directly to his contemporaries’ lived experience. For Bruegel’s viewers, the tower was not just a monument to ancient pride but a mirror of their own city’s dazzling ambition and its underlying fragility.
Bruegel does not show the dramatic aftermath, the confusion of tongues, and the scattering of peoples across the earth. Instead, he arrests the narrative at the moment of construction, filling the canvas with the feverish activity of workers and the looming mass of the tower itself. In doing so, he lets the architecture bear the weight of the story: the leaning walls, the buckling arches, and the crumbling base foreshadow the enterprise’s futility. The punishment is absent because the tower already embodies it, an image of human ambition that carries within itself the seeds of its own destruction.
Bruegel’s legacy is twofold. On the one hand, he fixed Babel’s appearance for centuries: spiraling, leaning, and crumbling, the visual template repeated in paintings, engravings, church murals, and biblical illustrations well into the modern era. From 16th-century Flemish workshops to 18th-century Bibles, from church frescoes to Romantic illustrations, and even into 20th-century literature and contemporary art, Bruegel’s leaning Tower of Babel has been endlessly reimagined as the enduring image of human ambition and collapse.[2] On the other hand, he reshaped its meaning. Earlier images celebrated human pride by showing the tower upright and impregnable. Bruegel’s version, and the generations of artists and authors who followed, transformed it into a parable of fragility, a monument doomed to collapse even as it rose.
Buildings Fall Books Endure: The Jewish Reading of Babel
Within the Jewish exegetical tradition, the story of Babel carries a different emphasis than in Bruegel’s Christian retelling. The tower itself is a bit player in a larger story, a catalyst and not the focus, less important than the human decision it symbolizes. In Genesis 9:1, God commands Noah’s descendants to “be fruitful, multiply, and fill the earth.” Yet instead of dispersing across the world, humanity chooses to settle in one place and build a city and tower “lest we be scattered abroad upon the face of the whole earth” (Gen. 11:4). In this reading, the sin is not arrogance against heaven but resistance to God’s plan of dispersal. The tower becomes a narrative device, a means of dramatizing humankind’s determination to remain unified, sedentary, and secure.[3]
Seen from this perspective, the confusion of languages and scattering of peoples is not so much a punishment as a necessary correction. The multiplicity of tongues is God’s way of ensuring that His will for humanity, for it to spread, diversify, and populate the earth, is carried out. The Jewish interpretation, therefore, reads the story as a lesson about human attempts to thwart divine design, not Bruegel’s Christian vision, which centers on pride and monumental ambition. What matters is not the tower’s collapse but humanity’s refusal to scatter, and the way God ultimately enforces the order of creation.
This contrast is confirmed by the way Jewish tradition titles the episode “Dor Haflagah,” meaning “the Generation of Division,” rather than “Migdal Bavel,” the Tower of Babel. (Sanhedrin 10:3; Baba Metziah 4:2). The Hebrew name shifts attention away from architecture altogether and toward the human drama: the refusal to scatter, the divine act of dividing languages, and the dispersal across the earth. In other words, where Christianity made the tower a visual icon, Judaism made the generation itself the lesson.[4]
This approach was not only in Jewish exegesis but also in Jewish art. There are only five identified examples of the tower in Jewish art, but in all of them, it is illustrated in a uniquely Jewish manner.

Figure 4: Tower of Babel, Khirbet Wadi Hamam Mosaic, c. 3rd century, source.

Figure 5: Tower of Babel, Huqoq Synagogue, c. 5th Century
The earliest two examples are synagogue mosaics, a third-century synagogue in Wadi Hamam, and a recently discovered fifth-century mosaic on the floor of the Huqoq Synagogue in northeastern Israel. Only a part of the Wadi Hamam scene has survived, though it is the largest intact biblical scene found. It shows workers and a tower on the left. In the center, two workers are hitting each other. The Huqoq mosaic is larger and illustrates all stages of construction, including detailed depictions of hoists, levers, and various chiseling and cutting tools. At the center of the scene, two workers are engaged in conflict—one wielding a hammer and the other a saw.[5] Similarly, three medieval manuscripts feature this theme; in two, the depiction of violence is the central focus, while in the third, it forms part of a broader image, akin to the mosaic. [6]

Figure 6 Golden Haggadah, fol. 3r
Although these examples feature the tower, they can be distinguished from the Christian perspective. Firstly, the labeling of the images aligns with Jewish tradition, specifically referencing Dor Haflagah. Secondly, Bruegel’s comprehensive visual representation notably omits any mention of violence. The interpretation that linguistic confusion led to violence is exclusive to Jewish sources, appearing in Genesis Rabba and various other texts, but not in Christian writings.[7] Given that the mosaic dates to the third century, this seems to potentially point to an earlier codification of Genesis Rabba than is currently assumed or that this approach was already was an oral legend.[8] The only known medieval Christian manuscript featuring a descent into violence, The Bedford Book of Hours, has prompted one scholar to assert that it “is undoubtedly based on a Jewish legend.”[9]
While Jewish manuscript culture preserves the uniquely Jewish interpretation of the iconography of the Tower of Babel, Jewish print culture would transform Bruegel’s symbol of pride and sin into a fortress of divine protection.
The Soncino family was the first great dynasty of Hebrew printers, active in northern Italy from the late 15th to the early 16th century.[10] Originating from the town of Soncino in Lombardy and operating intermittently between roughly 1483 and 1527, they established presses in a succession of Italian cities, including Soncino, Brescia, Fano, Pesaro, and Rimini, as well as in Turkey. The founder, Joshua Solomon Soncino, and his nephew, Gershom ben Moses Soncino, expanded the enterprise into one of the most respected printing houses of Renaissance Italy. Gershom issued one of the earliest dated Hebrew books, a Talmudic tractate printed at Soncino in 1484. This work, with its unique layout, is the first of its kind to become canonized, combining the source text with two surrounding commentaries, and is itself a work of art. Their editions combined typographic precision with decorative sophistication equal to the best contemporary Latin and vernacular presses, and their name became synonymous with the art of Hebrew printing itself. They did not just print for a Jewish audience, but also printed over 100 non-Jewish titles, outdoing their Jewish output of 64 titles.

Figure 7: Joseph Albo, Sefer Ikkarim, Rimini, 1522
The Soncino family was active from 1483, but in books printed from 1522, first in Rimini and subsequently in Salonika and Constantinople, Gershom incorporated a new printer’s mark – essentially a printer’s coat of arms.[11] This first appeared in R. Joseph Albo’s Sefer Ikkarim and depicts a traditional Renaissance-style solid stone tower rising above a crenellated wall, accompanied by the verse ‘מִגְדַּל עֹז שֵׁם יְהוָה, בּוֹ יָרוּץ צַדִּיק וְנִשְׂגָּב” “the name of the Lord is a mighty tower; the righteous runneth into it, and is set up on high,’ (Proverbs 18:10) on the left and right sides of the image. Gershom chooses to highlight the tower, unlike other possible symbols such as the rainbow, clouds of glory, or King David, which could have served a similar purpose.

Figure 8: Kol Bo, Rimini, 1525, Gross Family Collection
In the Sefer Kol Bo, published in Rimini circa 1525 and considered Gershom’s most distinguished work from that period, a prominent introductory statement appears above the tower: “In You I place my heart and you will help me, and I will raise my heart and with song I will praise you: ‘the name of the Lord is a strong tower; the righteous runs into it, and is safe.’” This clearly presents the tower as an icon of divine protection and intervention. Notably, Gershom’s tower does not correspond with any physical structure in Soncino or Rimini; instead, the tower symbolizes a spiritual rather than an earthly construct.[12] There is one small, but somewhat strange, detail about Gershom’s tower: the doors are latched on the outside, making the locks useless. This oddity reinforces that the tower is divine, as it does not need a locked door. We reenact this belief annually during the Pesach seder. Gershom’s tower, rooted in Mishlei rather than Bereishit, represents divine protection in contrast to retribution. For a Jewish printer deeply engaged with Renaissance book art, this choice offered a thoughtful reinterpretation, reclaiming the tower as a symbol of resilience and trust in God’s safeguarding of the Jewish community people.[13]
The story of the “tower,” whether Bruegel’s collapsing monument or Soncino’s enduring emblem, reminds us how difficult it is to define what makes art “Jewish.” The same image can signify pride or faith, sin or sanctity, depending on the hands and the heart that shape it. Jewish art, then, is not confined to subject or style, but often lives in subtler places — in the design of a page, the mark of a printer, or the choice of a verse. Ultimately, even art speaks in different languages.
Notes:
For background on the creation of the painting see Margaret A. Sullivan, Bruegel and the Creative Process, 1559-1563 (Ashgate: England, 2010), 191-204. For a direct comparison of the painting with the biblical narrative see Ruth Dorot and Edna Langenthal, “Pieter Bruegel the Elder’s The Tower of Babel (1563). From Art to Architecture,” Journal Education Culture and Society, 2, (2023), 380-400. ↑