The fateful year 1648 formed a turning point in the history of the

Polish Jews, as in the history of the countries belonging to the

Polish crown. The Cossack butcheries and wars of extermination of

1648-1658 were the same for the Polish Jews that the Crusades, the

Black Death, and all the other occasions for carnage had been for the

Jews of Western Europe. It seemed as though history desired to avoid

the reproach of partiality, and hastened to mete out even-handed

justice by apportioning the same measure of woe to the Jews of Poland

as to the Jews of Western Europe. But the Polish Jews were prepared to

accept the questionable gift from the hands of history. They had

mounted that eminence of spiritual stability on which suffering loses

the power to weaken its victim, but, on the contrary, endues him with

strength. More than ever they shrank into their shell. They shut

themselves up more completely in their inner world, and became morally

dulled against the persecutions, the bitter humiliations, the deep

scorn, which their surroundings visited upon them. The Polish Jew

gradually accustomed himself to his pitiable condition. He hardly knew

that life might be other than it was. That the Polish lord to whom he

was a means of entertainment might treat him with a trace of respect,

or that his neighbors, the middle class merchant, the German guild

member, and the Little Russian peasant, might cherish kindly feelings

toward him, he could not conceive as a possibility. Seeing himself

surrounded by enemies, he took precautions to fortify his camp, not so

much to protect himself against hostile assaults from without--they

were inevitable--as to paralyze the disastrous consequences of such

assaults in his inner world. To compass this end he brought into play

all the means suggested by his exceptional position before the law and

by his own peculiar social constitution. The _Kahal_, the

autonomous rabbinical administration of communal affairs, more and

more assumed the character of an inner dictatorship. Jewish society

was persistently kept under the discipline of rigid principles. In

many affairs the synagogue attained the position of a court of final

appeal. The people were united, or rather packed, into a solid mass by

purely mechanical processes--by pressure from without, and by drawing

tight a noose from within. Besides this social factor tending to

consolidate the Jewish people into a separate union, an intellectual

lever was applied to produce the same result. Rabbinism employed the

mystical as its adjutant. The one exercised control over all minds,

the other over all hearts. The growth of mysticism was fostered both

by the unfortunate conditions under which the Polish Jews endured

existence and by the Messianic movements which made their appearance

among the Jews of other countries.

In the second half of the seventeenth century, mysticism reached its

zenith in Turkey, the country in which, had stood the cradle of the

"practical Kabbala." The teachings of Ari, Vital, and the school

established by them spread like wildfire. Messianic extravagances

intoxicated the baited and persecuted people. In Smyrna appeared the

false Messiah, Sabbatai Zebi. As by magic he attracted to himself a

tremendous company of adherents in the East and in the West. For a

quarter of a century (1650-1676), he kept the Jewish communities

everywhere in a state of quivering suspense.

The harassed people tossed to and fro like a fever patient, and raved

about political re-birth. Its delirious visions still further heated

its agitated blood. It came to its senses but slowly. Not even the

apostasy and death of Sabbatai Zebi sufficed to sober all his

followers. Under the guise of a symbolic faith in a Messiah, many of

them, publicly or secretly, continued the propaganda for his

doctrines.

This propaganda prepared the fertile soil from which, in the

eighteenth century, shot up Messianic systems, tending to split

Judaism into sects. Nowhere did the mystical teachings evoke so ready

a response as in Poland, the very centre of Judaism. At first an ally

of the rabbinical school, mysticism grown passionate and

uncontrollable now and again acted as the violent opponent of

Rabbinism. Secret devotion to the Sabbatian doctrines, which had made

their home in Poland, sometimes led to such extremes in dogma and

ethics that the rabbis could not contain themselves. Chayyim Malach,

Judah Chassid, and other Galician mystics, in the second decade of the

eighteenth century brought down upon themselves a rabbinical decree of

excommunication. The mystical tendency was the precursor of the

heretical half-Christian sect of Frankists, who ventured so far as to

lift a hand against the fundamentals of Judaism: they rejected the

Talmud in favor of the Zohar (1756-1773). At the same time a much more

profound movement, instinct with greater vitality, made its appearance

among the Polish-Jewish masses, a movement rooted in their social and

spiritual organization. The wretched, debased condition of the average

Jew, conjoined with the traditions of the Kabbala and the excrescences

of Rabbinism, created a foothold for Chassidic teaching. Chassidism

replaced Talmudic ratiocination by exalted religious sentiment. By the

force of enthusiasm for faith, it drew its adherents together into a

firmly welded unit in contrast with Rabbinism, which sought the same

goal by the aid of the formal law. Scenting danger, the rabbinical

hierarchy declared war upon the Kabbala. Emden opposed Eibeschütz, the

Polish Sabbatians and Frankists were fought to the death, the Wilna

Gaon organized a campaign against the Chassidim. Too late! Rabbinism

was too old, too arid, to tone down the impulsive outbreaks of passion

among the people. In their religious exaltation the masses were

looking for an elixir. They were languishing, not for light to

illumine the reason, but for warmth to set the heart aglow. They

desired to lose themselves in ecstatic self-renunciation. Chassidism

and its necessary dependence upon the Zaddik offered the masses the

means of this forgetfulness of self through faith. They were the

medium through which the people saw the world in a rosy light, and the

consequences following upon their prevalence were seen in a marked

intensification of Jewish exclusiveness.

The same aloofness characterizes the Jews of the rest of the

eighteenth century diaspora. Wherever, as in Germany, Austria, and

Italy, Jews were settled in considerable numbers, they were separated

from their surroundings by forbidding Ghetto walls. On the whole, no

difference is noticeable between conditions affecting Jews in one

country and those in another. Everywhere they were merely tolerated,

everywhere oppressed and humiliated. The bloody persecutions of the

middle ages were replaced by the burden of the exceptional laws, which

in practice degraded the Jews socially to an inferior race, to

citizens of a subordinate degree. The consequences were uniformly the

same in all countries: spiritual isolation and a morbid religious

mood. During the first half of the "century of reason," Jewry

presented the appearance of an exhausted wanderer, heavily dragging

himself on his way, his consciousness clouded, his trend of thought

obviously anti-rationalistic. At the very moment in which Europe was

beginning to realize its medieval errors and repent of them, and the

era of universal ideals of humanity was dawning, Judaism raised

barricades between itself and the world at large. Elijah Gaon and

Israel Besht were the contemporaries of Voltaire and Rousseau.

Apparently there was no possibility of establishing communication

between these two diametrically opposed worlds. But history is a

magician. Not far from the Poland enveloped in medieval darkness, the

morning light of a new life was breaking upon slumbering Jewry in

German lands. New voices made themselves heard, reverberating like an

echo to the appeal issued by the "great century" in behalf of a

spiritual and social regeneration of mankind.

XI

THE MODERN PERIOD OF ENLIGHTENMENT (THE NINETEENTH CENTURY)

Two phenomena signalized the beginning of the latest period in Jewish

history: the lofty activity of Mendelssohn and the occurrence of the

great French Revolution. The man stands for the spiritual emancipation

of the Jews, the movement for their political emancipation. At bottom,

these two phenomena were by no means the ultimate causes of the social

and spiritual regeneration of the Jewish people. They were only the

products of the more general causes that had effected a similar

regeneration in all the peoples of Western Europe. The new currents,

the abandonment of effete intellectual and social forms, the

substitution of juster and more energetic principles, the protest

against superstition and despotism--all these traits had a common

origin, the resuscitation of reason and free thought, which dominated

all minds without asking whether they belonged to Jew or to Christian.

It might seem that the rejuvenation of the Jews had been consummated

more rapidly than the rejuvenation of the other peoples. The latter

had had two centuries, the period elapsing since the middle ages, that

is, the period between the Reformation and the great Revolution, in

which to prepare for a more rational and a more humane conduct of

life. As for the Jews, their middle ages began much later, and ended

later, almost on the eve of 1789, so that the revolution in their

minds and their mode of life had to accomplish itself hastily, under

the urgence of swiftly crowding events, by the omission of

intermediate stages. But it must be taken into consideration that long

before, in the Judeo-Hellenic and in the Arabic-Spanish period, the

Jews had passed through their "century of reason." In spite of the

intervening ages of suffering and gloom, the faculty of assimilating

new principles had survived. For the descendants of Philo and

Maimonides the rationalistic movement of the eighteenth century was in

part a repetition of a well-known historical process. They had had the

benefit of a similar course of studies before, and, therefore, had no

need to cram on the eve of the final examination.

In point of fact, the transformation in the life of the Jews did take

place with extraordinary swiftness. It was hastened in France by the

principles of the Revolution and the proclamation of the civil

equality of Jews with the other citizens. In Germany, however, it

advanced upon purely spiritual lines. Mendelssohn and Lessing, the

heralds of spiritual reform, who exposed old prejudices, carried on

their labors at a time in which the Jews still stood beyond the pale

of the law, a condition which it did not occur to Frederick II, "the

philosopher upon the throne," to improve. A whole generation was

destined to pass before the civil emancipation of the German Jews was

accomplished. Meantime their spiritual emancipation proceeded apace,

without help from the ruling powers. A time so early as the end of the

eighteenth century found the German Jews in a position to keep step

with their Christian fellow-citizens in cultural progress. Enlightened

Jews formed close connections with enlightened Christians, and joined

them in the universal concerns of mankind as confederates espousing

the same fundamental principles. If they renounced some of their

religious and national traditions, it was by no means out of

complaisance for their neighbors. They were guided solely and alone by

those universal principles that forced non-Jews as well as Jews to

reject many traditions as incompatible with reason and conscience.

Non-Jews and Jews alike yielded themselves up to the fresh inspiration

of the time, and permitted themselves to be carried along by the

universal transforming movement. Mendelssohn himself, circumspect and

wise, did not move off from religious national ground. But the

generation after him abandoned his position for that of universal

humanity, or, better, German nationality. His successors intoxicated

themselves with deep draughts of the marvelous poetry created by the

magic of Goethe and Schiller. They permitted themselves to be rushed

along by the liberty doctrines of 1789, they plunged head over heels

into the vortex of romanticism, and took an active part in the

conspicuous movements of Europe, political, social, and literary, as

witness Bôrne, Heine, and their fellow-combatants.

The excitement soon evaporated. When the noise of the liberty

love-feasts had subsided, when the cruel reaction (after 1814) had

settled heavily upon the Europe of the nineteenth century, and God's

earth had again become the arena of those agents of darkness whom

dreamers had thought buried forever beneath the ruins of the old

order, then the German Jews, or such of them as thought, came to their

senses. The more intelligent Jewish circles realized that, in devotion

to the German national movement, they had completely neglected their

own people. Yet their people, too, had needs, practical or spiritual,

had its peculiar national sphere of activity, circumscribed, indeed,

by the larger sphere of mankind's activities as by a concentric

circle, but by no means merged into it. To atone for their sin,

thinking Jews retraced their steps. They took in hand the transforming

of Jewish inner life, the simplification of the extremely complicated

Jewish ritual, the remodeling of pedagogic methods, and, above all,

the cultivation of the extended fields of Jewish science, whose head

and front is Jewish historical research in all its vastness and

detail. Heine's friend, Zunz, laid the cornerstone of Jewish science

in the second decade of the nineteenth century. His work was taken up

by a goodly company of zealous and able builders occupied for half a

century with the task of rearing the proud edifice of a scientific

historical literature, in which national self-consciousness was

sheltered and fostered. At the very height of this reforming and

literary activity, German Jewry was overwhelmed by the civil

emancipation of 1848. Again a stirring movement drew them into

sympathy with a great general cause, but this time without drawing

them away from Jewish national interests. Cultural and civil

assimilation was accomplished as an inner compelling necessity, as a

natural outcome of living. But spiritual assimilation, in the sense of

a merging of Judaism in foreign elements, was earnestly repudiated by

the noblest representatives of Judaism. It was their ideal that

universal activity and national activity should be pursued to the

prejudice of neither, certainly not to the exclusion of one or the

other, but in perfect harmony with each other. In point of fact, it

may be asserted that, in spite of a frequent tendency to go to the one

or the other extreme, the two currents, the universal and the

national, co-exist within German Jewry, and there is no fear of their

uniting, they run parallel with each other. The Jewish genius is

versatile. Without hurt to itself it can be active in all sorts of

careers: in politics and in civil life, in parliament and on the

lecture platform, in all branches of science and departments of

literature, in every one of the chambers of mankind's intellectual

laboratory. At the same time it has its domestic hearth, its national

sanctuary; it has its sphere of original work and its self-consciousness,

its national interests and spiritual ideals rooted in the past of the Jew.

By the side of a Lassalle, a Lasker, and a Marx towers a Riesser, a

Geiger, a Graetz. The leveling process unavoidably connected with

widespread culture, so far from causing spiritual desolation in

German Judaism, has, on the contrary, furnished redundant proof

that even under present conditions, so unfavorable to what is

individual and original, the Jewish people has preserved its vitality

to the full.

An analogous movement stirred the other countries of Western

Europe--France, Italy, and England. The political emancipation of the

Jews was accomplished earlier in them than in Germany. The

reconstruction of the inner life, too, proceeded more quietly and

regularly, without leaps and bounds, and religious reform established

itself by degrees. Yet even here, where the Jewish contingent was

insignificant, the spiritual physiognomy of the Jews maintained its

typical character. In these countries, as in Germany, the Jew

assimilated European culture with all its advantages and its

drawbacks. He was active on diplomatic fields, he devoted himself to

economic investigations, he produced intellectual creations of all

kinds--first and last he felt himself to be a citizen of his country.

None the less he was a loyal son of the Jewish people considered as a

spiritual people with an appointed task. Crémieux, Beaconsfield,

Luzzatti are counterbalanced by Salvador, Frank, Munk, Reggio, and

Montefiore. All the good qualities and the shortcomings distinctive of

the civilization of modern times adhere to the Jew. But at its worst

modern civilization has not succeeded in extinguishing the national

spirit in Jewry. The national spirit continues to live in the people,

and it is this spirit that quickens the people. The genius of Jewish

history, as in centuries gone by, holds watch over the sons of the

"eternal people" scattered to all ends of the earth. West-European

Jewry may say of itself, without presumption: _Cogito ergo sum_.

Russian Jewry, the Jewry that had been Polish, and that is counted by

the millions, might, if necessary, prove its existence by even more

tangible marks than Occidental Jewry. To begin with, the centre of

gravity of the Jewish nation lies in Russia, whose Jews not only

outnumber those of the rest of Europe, but continue to live in a

compact mass. Besides, they have preserved the original Jewish culture

and their traditional physiognomy to a higher degree than the Jews of

other countries. The development of the Russian Jews took a course

very different from that of the Jews of the West. This difference was

conditioned by the tremendous contrast between Russian culture and

West-European culture, and by the change which the external

circumstances of Jews outside of Russia underwent during the modern

period. The admission of the Polish provinces into the Russian Empire

at the end of the eighteenth century found the numerous Jewish

population in an almost medieval condition, the same condition in

which the non-Jewish population of Russian Poland was at that time.

The Polish regime, as we saw above, had isolated the Jews alike in

civil and spiritual relations. The new order did not break down the

barriers. The masses of Jews cooped up in the "Pale of Settlement"

were strong only by reason of their inner unity, their firmly

established patriarchal organization. The bulwark of Rabbinism and the

citadel of Chassidism protected them against alien influences. They

guarded their isolation jealously. True to the law of inertia, they

would not allow the privilege of isolation to be wrested from them.

They did not care to step beyond the ramparts. Why, indeed, should the

Jews have quitted their fortress, if outside of their walls they could

expect nothing but scorn and blows? The unfortunates encaged in the

sinister Pale of Settlement could have been lured out of their

exclusive position only by complete civil emancipation combined with a

higher degree of culture than had been attained by Russian society, an

impossible set of circumstances in the first half of the nineteenth

century. The legislative measures of the time, in so far as they

relate to the Jews, breathe the spirit of police surveillance rather

than of enlightenment and humanity. To civilizing and intellectual

influences from without the way was equally barred. Yet all this

watchfulness was of no avail. Nothing could prevent the liberty

principles espoused by the Jews of Western Europe from being smuggled

into the Pale, to leaven the sad, serried masses. A sluggish process

of fermentation set in, and culminated in the literary activity of

Isaac Beer Levinsohn and of the Wilna reformers of the second and

fourth decades of the nineteenth century. They were the harbingers of

approaching spring.

When spring finally came (after 1855), and the sun sent down his

genial rays upon the wretched Jewry of Russia, life and activity began

to appear at once, especially in the upper strata. As in Germany, so

in Russia spiritual emancipation preceded political emancipation.

Still shorn almost entirely of the elementary rights of citizens, the

Russian Jews nevertheless followed their ideal promptings, and

participated enthusiastically in the movement for enlightenment which

at that time held the noblest of the Russians enthralled. In a

considerable portion of the Russian Jewish community a process of

culture regeneration began, an eager throwing off of outworn forms of

life and thought, a swift adoption of humane principles. Jewish young

men crowded into the secular schools, in which they came in close

contact with their Christian contemporaries. Influenced by their new

companions, they gave themselves up to Russian national movements,

often at the cost of renunciation of self. Some of them, indeed, in

one-sided aspiration strove to become, not Russians, but men. The

influence exercised by literature was more moderate than that of the

schools. Rabbinic and Chassidistic literature, on the point of dying

out as it was, abandoned the field to the literature of enlightenment

in the Hebrew language, a literature of somewhat primitive character.

It consisted chiefly of naive novels and of didactic writings of

publicists, and lacked the solid scientific and historical element

that forms the crown of Western Jewish literature. It is indisputable,

however, that it exerted an educational influence. Besides, it

possesses the merit of having resuscitated one of the most valuable of

Jewish national possessions, the Hebrew language in its purity, which

in Russia alone has become a pliant instrument of literary expression.

A still greater field was reserved for the Jewish-Russian literature

that arose in the "sixties." It was called into being in order to

present a vivid and true picture of the social and spiritual interests

of the Jews. Proceeding from discussions of current political topics,

this literature gradually widened its limits so as to include Jewish

history, Jewish science, and the portrayal of Jewish life, and more

and more approached the character of a normal European literature. All

this was in the making, and the most important work had not yet begun.

The lower strata of the people had not been touched by the fresh air.

In time, if all had gone well, they, too, would have had their day.

And if the minority of the Jewish people in the West in a short span

of time brought forth so many notable workers in so many departments

of life and thought, how much superior would be the culture

achievements of the Eastern majority! How vigorously the mighty mental

forces latent in Russian Jewry would develop when their advance was no

longer obstructed by all sorts of obstacles, and they could be applied

to every sphere of political, social, and intellectual life!

Nothing of all this came to pass; exactly the opposite happened. Not

only were the barriers in the way of a prosperous, free development of

Jewry not removed, but fresh hindrances without number were

multiplied. Some spectre of the middle ages, some power of darkness,

put brakes upon the wheel of history. It first appeared in the West,

under the name anti-Semitism, among the dregs of European society. But

in its earliest abode it was and is still met with an abrupt rebuff on

the part of the most intelligent circles, those whom even the present

age of decadence has not succeeded in robbing of belief in lofty moral

ideals. Anti-Semitism in the West is in _anima vili_. Its cult is

confined to a certain party, which enjoys a rather scandalous

reputation. But there are countries in which this power of darkness,

in the coarser form of Judophobia[13], has cast its baleful spell upon

the most influential members of society and upon the press. There it

has ripened noxious fruit. Mocking at the exalted ideals and the

ethical traditions of religious and thinking mankind, Judophobia

shamelessly professes the dogma of misanthropy. Its propaganda is

bringing about the moral ruin of an immature society, not yet

confirmed in ethical or truly religious principles. Upon its victims,

the Jews, it has the same effect as the misfortunes of the middle

ages, which were meted out to our hoary people with overflowing

measure, and against which it learnt to assume an armor of steel. The

recent severe trials are having the same result as the persecutions of

former days: they do not weaken, on the contrary, they invigorate the

Jewish spirit, they spur on to thought, they stimulate the pulse of

the people.

"The hammer shivers glass,

But iron by its blows is forged."[14]

[13] As anti-Semitism is called in Russia.

[14] Pushkin.

The historical process Jewry has undergone repeatedly, it must undergo

once again. But now, too, in this blasting time of confusion and

dispersion, of daily torture and the horrors of international

conflict, "the keeper of Israel slumbereth not and sleepeth not." The

Jewish spirit is on the alert. It is ever purging and tempering itself

in the furnace of suffering. The people which justly bears the name of

the veteran of history withdraws and falls into a revery. It is not a

narrow-minded fanatic's flight from the world, but the concentrated

thought of a mourner. Jewry is absorbed in contemplation of its great,

unparalleled past. More than ever it is now in need of the teachings

of its past, of the moral support and the prudent counsels of its

history, its four thousand years of life crowded with checkered

experiences.

XII

THE TEACHINGS OF JEWISH HISTORY

Jewish History : An Essay in the Philosophy of History · 第 6 / 7 段