The old proverb “Habent sua fata libelli” is perhaps nowhere more
strikingly illustrated than in the Talmud. This gigantic literary work has
a peculiar history of its own. Now honoured, now decried, it has been at
once the study of the scholar, the butt of the sceptic, and the scapegoat
of the bigot.
In the Middle Ages, some of the high dignitaries of the Roman Church
thundered their anathemas against it, and caused edition after edition to
be publicly burnt. What strikes one most is their profound ignorance of
its real contents. They were satisfied to condemn it on hearsay evidence,
or on the strength of some garbled quotations. Henricus Seynensis, a
Capucin friar, having heard a good deal about the heretical Talmud, took
it to be a Rabbi, and swore that he would ere long have him put to death
by the common executioner. The censor, too, whose duty it was to amend any
passage or expression found in the Talmud which might be construed in a
sense hostile to the representatives of the Roman Church, displayed, as a
rule, more zeal than erudition. Thus, for the Talmud to say, for instance,
that a Roman swore by the Capitol or by Jupiter, was sufficient for the
censor to find a hidden allusion to the Vatican or the Pope, and to alter
the nomenclature, so that the Roman swore by the capital of Persia, or by
the God of Babylon. This substitution of inappropriate names rendered many
passages obscure, and this is one of the chief reasons why the Talmud has
been repeatedly condemned as an unintelligible and nonsensical production.
The great majority, however, of modern scholars, theologians, and
orientalists read the Talmud, not to refute it, but rather to bring to
light the vast store of knowledge hidden therein. And yet, in spite of the
many allusions there are to it in theology, in Biblical lore, and in
sacred geography, it still is to the majority of students a sealed book.
The object of this essay is therefore to sketch in outline its essence and
character, and to give some idea of its subject-matter.
The year 70 of the common era was a most disastrous one for the Jews.
After having bravely struggled against the formidable armies of Vespasian
and Titus for their national independence, they had finally to submit to
their conqueror. The holy Temple of Jerusalem, in which their religious,
political, and civil life was centred, was reduced to a heap of ashes
before their very eyes, and from that time forth their nationality was
destroyed, and they remained without a king and without a fatherland.
Other nations, whose vitality was less prominent, might in such
circumstances have disappeared from the face of the earth. Not so the
Jews. When the time for their national dispersion arrived, they abandoned
the sword for the pen. In the seclusion of the new homes they had made for
themselves in Persia and Syria, they devoted all their energies to the
study of their literature. Their leaders founded there colleges and
schools, in which the sacred flame of learning was kept aglow in the midst
of the darkness of the times. The Bible was still in their hands, that
sacred treasure which gave them solace for the tribulations of the past,
and patience and hope for the uncertainties of the future. From that time
forth it remained the centre of their mental activity. In spite of the
fact that the Romans had fixed the penalty of death as a punishment for
any one that imparted instruction in the Bible, teachers were not wanting
who taught its doctrines publicly to large numbers of pupils. One of them,
Rabbi Akiba by name, being asked by a friend why he continued to expound
the law publicly at the peril of his life, replied in the following
parable:—“Once upon a time a fox was walking along the river side, when he
saw the fish swimming to and fro in great consternation. He asked them
what was the matter, and what they were afraid of, whereupon they pointed
to the nets, which were spread out to catch them. Thereupon the fox
advised them to come to live with him on dry land, and be safe.” But the
fish replied: “Thou wilt never persuade us to follow thy advice, for if in
our element, the water, we have good cause for fear, surely, when we
depart from this element, the danger will be even greater.” “So it is with
us” (said Rabbi Akiba); “if our life is imperilled while our mind remains
fixed on the study of the Bible, which is the soul of our existence, how
much greater must our danger be, when we leave our element and cease to
study.”
At this time, the mental activity of the Rabbis was confined to the
exposition and investigation of the text of the Scriptures, which they
called the “written law.” But a little later their attention was also
directed to the study of the “unwritten law,” or oral traditions, to which
reference is sometimes made in the Pentateuch. Thus a new sphere of
activity was opened to them, which soon begot a science, embracing diverse
branches of study, and rising by degrees to very large proportions. The
mode of teaching adopted by these masters was somewhat similar to that
employed by Socrates. Questions were put and answered, and the decisions
of the teachers were committed to memory by the pupils. This method,
however, had the disadvantage attendant upon constant migration. Rabbi
Jehuda, surnamed “the Prince,” thereupon, towards the early part of the
third century of the common era, collected all the floating dicta of the
sages, together with the large mass of law and rulings, and recorded them
for the first time in writing. In this way a code was drawn up, the
materials of which the editor divided into six sections. The first section
is named “Seeds,” and treats principally of agrarian laws. The second,
called “Feasts,” contains the ordinances relating to the Sabbath and
festivals. The third, entitled “Women,” deals chiefly with marriage and
divorce. The fourth, called “Damages,” discusses civil and criminal law.
The fifth is named “Holiness,” and treats of sacred things, such as the
Temple, sacrifices, &c. The last section, entitled “Purification,” deals
with various Levitical and sanitary laws. The whole collection was then
called _Mishna_ (from _shannah_, “to study”), which means “learning or
teaching.” As in process of time a great many new traditions sprang up,
the _Mishna_ formed the materials for a new compilation which is called
the _Talmud_, sometimes also the _Gemara_. Both names have the same
signification—study and learning; the only difference between them is,
that the word Talmud is derived from the Hebrew, and Gemara from the
Syrian language. There are two Talmuds—the Jerusalem and the Babylonian.
The first was compiled at the beginning of the fourth century of the
common era, from the decisions of the colleges in Palestine, and the
second from those of the Academy of Sora in Babylonia.
Rabbi Ashe, who lived at the end of the fifth century A. D., is mentioned
as the editor of the Babylonian Talmud. This is the Talmud _par
excellence_, and is about four times as large as that of Jerusalem. It
covers 5,154 folio pages in twelve folio volumes. This gigantic work
became the bed-rock of Jewish literature for many centuries, and was at
the same time the link that kept the Jewish community together during the
years of their persecution in various countries. A few characteristics of
this most important work may be mentioned. The Talmud is, as the late
Emanuel Deutsch has it, a microcosm, embracing, as even the Bible does,
heaven and earth. It is a republic of literature, and a library in itself.
It treats of law, history, medicine, astronomy, mathematics, legend,
social life, theosophy, and metaphysics. It passes from myth to morality,
from legend to logic, from grave to gay, from lively to severe topics. The
Talmud is a product of those centuries when the Jews were considered
beyond the pale of the law, and it tells the story of the stormy life of
thirty generations. Though at first sight it might appear to be written
without method and system, it will soon be seen that it is composed of two
elements—the legal and the legendary, or prose and poetry. The first is
called _Halacha_ or legal decisions, and the second _Agada_ or moral
maxims and legends. As regards the Halacha, it is obvious that its laws,
its spirit, and its details, cannot be adequately analysed within the
limits of a short essay. We therefore propose to make some observations
merely on the two highly important subjects of education and capital
punishment. Basing their argument on the ordinance found in the Bible that
every parent is obliged to have his children properly trained, the masters
laid down the rule that education should be compulsory. If a child, they
say, is idle, and does not wish to study, he is not to be chastised too
severely; but he is to remain sitting among those children who are
industrious and attentive, that he may follow their good example. The
chastisement of children in schools was unknown in the Talmud. The
principal maxim of these masters was as follows: “Above all things study.
Whether for the sake of learning, or for any other reason, study; for
whatever the motive that may impel you at first, you will very soon love
study for its own sake.”
Respecting the criminal legislation of the Talmud, it may be observed that
nowhere in its pages are any traces to be found of the use of the rack or
of any other kind of torture to compel the accused to implicate himself.
The judges were obliged, according to the Talmud, to search for innocence
rather than for guilt. To judge a man charged with a capital crime, no
less than twenty judges had to be selected from among the most eminent
doctors of law; so extreme was the care taken of human life. The
examination of witnesses in such a case was so rigorous that a sentence of
capital punishment became almost impossible. The Talmud goes even so far
as to declare that the tribunal which imposes the penalty of death once in
seven or even seventy years, is a court of murderers. Thus it will be seen
that the severity of the Mosaic code had been modified by the influence of
these oral conditions, which tell us also that “paying measure for
measure” is in God's hands only, and that he who has sustained any bodily
injuries must rest satisfied with an indemnification of money.
Equally interesting, and much more entertaining, is the second portion of
the Talmud—the Agada. It is, as already stated, the poetry of the Talmud.
It contains fairy tales and words of wisdom, plays of fancy and jests,
parables and legends. The patriarchs and some of the kings and prophets of
the Bible were mostly the characters from whom the allegories of the Agada
were derived. So, for example, of Solomon, a favourite hero of the Agada,
the following pleasant little story is told: “This monarch was once
visited by Queen Sheba, who wished to ascertain in person whether all was
true that was said about him. So she appeared one day before him in his
palace, holding in each hand a bouquet of flowers. And though one was
natural and the other artificial, their resemblance to each other was so
great that it was impossible to tell from a distance which was the
production of nature, and which of art. This, however, Solomon had to
decide. Observing, by chance, a swarm of bees hovering about outside, he
ordered the windows to be opened, and as soon as this was done, the bees
rushed in, and at once fixed on the natural flowers. Queen Sheba was
satisfied with the genuine wisdom of the Jewish monarch.” From this story,
says one of the humorous Agadaists, a good moral lesson can be derived, if
applied to ladies generally, namely, that the bee only rests on the
natural beauties, and never fixes on the painted ones^[52-1].
The Agada tells another story about King Solomon. He had the reputation of
understanding every language in existence, including that of the animal
world, and once heard a bird talking to his mate that was sitting on the
dome of the Temple. “If,” he said, “I were to stamp my foot hard, the
whole Temple would collapse in a moment.” Hearing this grandiloquent
remark, King Solomon called the male bird, and assuming an angry look,
asked him what he meant by such language. Trembling with fear, the bird
excused himself, saying that he merely wished to tell his mate how strong
he was. After being cautioned not to be so boastful in future, the bird
returned to his wife, who was anxiously awaiting his return. And on her
asking him what the great king wanted of him, he answered and said: “King
Solomon urgently implored me not to destroy his beautiful Temple.”
Sometimes the Agada occupies itself with the exposition of certain
Biblical passages, which take the form of homilies. Thus, for instance,
quoting the passage in Jeremiah xlvi. 28: “Fear thou not, my servant
Jacob, for I am with thee; I will make a full end of all the nations by
whom thou art oppressed, but of thee I will never make a full end,” the
Agada speaks to the Jewish people living in exile: “Thou art grieved,” it
says, “that thy Temple is destroyed, and that thy sons and daughters are
scattered and dispersed to all quarters of the globe. But the Temple of
God is the whole universe, and wherever thou wilt address thyself to him
in prayer, he will listen to thee most graciously. Therefore, though thou
art in a strange land, do not forsake the God of thy fathers; erect
schools and colleges, and keep up the flame of knowledge in thy midst. Let
this flame be a substitute for thy fire-offering, and thy heart a
substitute for the altar of old. Both can be replaced by good actions. If
thou hast taken pity on the poor and needy, and by consoling words thou
hast soothed the grief of the widow and the orphan; or if by any
charitable work thou hast saved even one life from misery and degradation,
thou hast done a nobler deed unto thy God than if thou hadst offered him a
thousand sacrifices. Thou art grieved because thy priests are no more; but
it lies within thy power and that of every Israelite to lead as holy a
life as they did. Let each man among you be a disciple of the High Priest
Aaron, a friend of peace, a promoter of peace, and a friend of all men,
and he will be as agreeable to God as the High Priest himself. Thou art
scorned, ridiculed, and persecuted; the nations among whom thou livest try
to get rid of thee; their leaders and statesmen treat thy race like a
horde of outcasts; but do not despair of a better end. For the time is not
far distant when the dawn of brighter days will break; when the rays of an
enlightened age will disperse all the clouds of ignorance and
superstition, and then thou wilt shine again in the golden sun of
liberty^[54-1].”
In another place the Agada quotes a proverb of its own: “Never cast a
stone into a well out of which thou hast drunk.” And after having reminded
every Israelite of his duty to be grateful even to inanimate things of
Nature from which he has ever derived any benefit, it addresses the
peoples of the world, saying—“Had you acted on this principle, how much
better would the treatment have been which Judaism and its confessors have
ever received at your hands! Have not the books of our poets and prophets
served as an ever flowing source of religious truth and morality, offering
at the same time consolation and hope to millions of your people in times
of sorrow and distress? And why did you cast stones into the well which
has so often quenched your thirst for religious and ethical knowledge?”
Seeing that, even at the present day, some curious ideas prevail as to the
domestic and social position occupied by the Hebrew woman in Talmudical
times, it may be of interest to see what the Agada has to say on this
point. It appears that Hebrew maidens used to go out into the fields and
vineyards on a certain day in the year, clad alike in white garments, so
that there might be no distinction between the wealthy and the poor, and
there they invited the young men of the neighbourhood to dance with them;
and it was their privilege on these occasions to propose marriage to their
partners, stating at the same time their different advantages. Those who
could boast of their noble birth, or who were distinguished for their
personal charms, boldly drew attention to their attractions. The less
well-favoured dwelt upon the value of enduring love and the happiness
which they were prepared to offer to those young men who would choose them
for their wives. There is other evidence in the Talmud which shows that
the Hebrew woman, unlike Orientals, enjoyed comparative freedom in public,
and was likewise allowed to take part in domestic and social affairs. It
is true that polygamy was then still legally permitted, but it existed
only in theory, and had ceased to be generally practised long before it
was wholly interdicted. A witty Agadaist tells us the following tale
regarding the evil consequences of polygamy: “An elderly man, whose hair
had already begun to turn grey, married two wives, one of them young and
beautiful, the other old and plain. The latter, thinking that her husband
would be fonder of her if he looked as old as she did, pulled out all the
black hairs in his head. Her younger rival, acting on the same principle,
removed all his grey hairs. The consequence was that, in course of time,
the unfortunate husband had no hair left on his head at all, and whenever
he made his appearance he was held up to mockery and derision^[55-1].” The
masters have some witty sayings about womanhood generally. “Ten measures
of talk,” they say, “came down to the world. Women received nine measures
for their own use, and the rest of the world one measure.” Commenting on
the passage in Genesis, “And God formed the rib, which he had taken from
the man, into a wife,” another humorous Agadaist says: “She was not formed
out of a man's head, in order that she might not be proud and keep her
head too high; not out of his eye or ear, that she should not be curious,
wishing to see and hear everything; not out of his mouth, that she might
not be too talkative; not out of his heart, that she should not be
jealous; and finally, not out of his hand and foot, in order that she
might not touch everything nor go everywhere. To avoid all these
contingencies, she was formed out of his rib, that is hidden from sight,
and might serve as an emblem of modesty and virtue.”
The Agada is especially rich in pithy maxims, which bear on everyday life,
and have a permanent ethical value. The following specimens will give an
idea of the contents of some of the rest:—“Who is strong? He who subdues
his passion.” “Who is rich? He who is satisfied with his lot.” “Morning
slumber, midday wine, and idle talk with the ignorant destroy a man's
life.” “Do not be near a pious fool.” “Luck makes rich, luck makes wise.”
“It is not the place that honours the man, but the man who honours the
place.” “What is hateful to thee, do not unto thy neighbour.” “Charity is
the most important part of divine worship.”
Commenting on the last-mentioned maxim, a moralizing Agadaist quotes the
following:—“There once lived a man in the East, who had three friends, two
of whom he loved very dearly, but the third he neglected. Once he was
summoned before the judge, where, though innocent, he was accused of a
serious crime. ‘Who amongst you,’ he said to his friends, ‘will go with
me, and plead my cause?’ The first friend excused himself immediately, and
said that he could not go on account of other pressing engagements. The
second went with him as far as the gate of the courthouse, and then he
turned and went home. But the third, whom he had always ignored, went into
the court, appealed to the judge on behalf of his friend, and obtained his
pardon. Man has three friends in the world—wealth, relations, and good
deeds. How do they behave in the hour of death, when God summons him
before his tribunal? The wealth, which was his best friend in life, leaves
him first, and goes not with him. His relations and friends accompany him
to the brink of the grave, and then return to their homes. His good works,
however, which he used to neglect during his lifetime, accompany him as
far as the throne of the All-merciful Father of men, where they speak for
him, plead his cause, and obtain for him God's favour and grace.”
From all that has been said it will be seen what a wonderful work the
Talmud is, and that many a legend, allegory, and maxim found in ancient
and modern literature has flowed from the realms of its boundless fancy.
But the student who wishes to get an insight into this treasure-house of
Rabbinical literature, should not feel discouraged if his early researches
seem to yield him nothing but dross. One of the Jewish sages once compared
the Talmud to the sea. As the moods of the sea vary, so do those of the
Talmud. Many a student has dived into this vast sea of learning and has
brought up nothing but a handful of empty shells; but there are others,
whose searchings have been wider and deeper, that have won for themselves
pearls of the finest water, and of considerable value.
Footnotes:
[52-1] Cp. _Curiosities of Literature_, by I. D'Israeli: _sub_ Solomon and
Queen Sheba.
[54-1] Cp. _Megilla_, p. 29; _Succah_, p. 49; _Berachoth_, p. 15; also
_Menachoth_, p. 110.
[55-1] Cp. _Bab. Kam._, p. 60; _Aesop_ (_Halm_, 56), and also
_Lafontaine_, I, 17.