The Bet Yehudah may justly be called the connecting link between the Te’udah, which preceded it, and Zerubbabel, which followed it.  The latter, though written in Hebrew, was really intended exclusively for the Gentile world, as the former had been mainly for the Jewish world.  It is a continuation, but not yet a conclusion, of the self-assigned task of Levinsohn.  The Talmud, we have seen, was at that time the object of assaults of zealous Christians and disloyal Jews, and hostile works against Judaism were the order of the day.  Most of them, however, like the fabulous snake, vented their poison and died.  It was different with McCaul’s poignant diatribe against the cause of Judaism and the honor of the Talmud, which had been translated into many languages.  Montefiore, while in Russia, urged Levinsohn to defend his people against their traducers, and the bed-ridden sage, almost blind and hardly able to hold a pen, finally consented.  What Zerubbabel accomplished, can be judged from the fact that in the second Hebrew edition of McCaul’s Old Paths (1876) are omitted many of the calumnies and aspersions of the first edition, published in 1839.

Levinsohn’s life was a continuous struggle against an insidious disease, which kept him confined to his bed, and prevented him from accepting any prominent position.  But though, as he said, he had “neither brother, wife, child, nor even a sound body,” he impressed his personality upon Russian Jewry as no one else, save the Gaon, had before him.  His breadth of view and his sympathetic disposition gradually won him the respect and love of all who knew him.  The zaddikim Abraham of Turisk and Israel Rasiner were his lifelong friends; the Talmudist Strashun acknowledged his indebtedness to him, and Rabbi Abele of Vilna remarked jestingly that the only fault to be found with the Te’udah was that its author was not the Gaon Elijah.  He enjoyed prominence in Government circles, and Prince Wittgenstein was passionately fond of his company.  Above all he endeared himself to the Maskilim.  To him they looked as to their teacher and guide; him they consulted in every emergency.  Lebensohn and Gottlober, Mandelstamm and Gordon, equally sought his criticism and advice.  For all he had words of comfort and encouragement.  The younger Maskilim he warned not to waste their time in idle versification, not to become intoxicated with their little learning; and the older ones he implored to respect the sentiments of their conservative coreligionists.  “Take it not amiss,” he would say to the latter, “that the great bulk of our people hearken not as yet to our new teachings.  All beginnings are difficult.  The drop cannot become a deluge instantaneously.  Persevere in your laudable ambition, publish your good and readable books, and the result, though slow, is sure.”