SPINOZA AND SABBATAÏ ZEVI.
Spinoza's Youth and Education--His Intellectual Breach with
Judaism--Fresh Martyrs of the Inquisition--The Rabbis
and Spinoza--Excommunication--Spinoza's "Tractate" and
"Ethics"--Spinoza's Writings Concerning Judaism--Spinoza's
Contemporaries in Amsterdam--De Paz and Penso--The Mystical
Character of the Years 1648 and 1666--Sabbataï Zevi's early
Career--The Jerusalem Community--Sabbataï's Travels--Nathan
Ghazati--Sabbataï announced in Smyrna as the Messiah--Spread
of Enthusiastic Belief in the pseudo-Messiah--Manoel Texeira--
Ritual Changes introduced by the Sabbatians--Sabbataï proceeds
to Constantinople--Nehemiah Cohen--Sabbataï Zevi's Apostasy
to Islam and its Consequences--Continuation of the Sabbatian
Movement--Death of Sabbataï and Spinoza--Results of the
Sabbatian Imposture.
1656-1677 C. E.
Whilst Manasseh ben Israel was zealously laboring to complete the
fabric of Judaism by hastening on the Messianic era, one of his
disciples was applying an intellectual lever to destroy this edifice
to its foundation and convert it into a shapeless dust heap. He was
earnest about what was only amusement for Leo Modena. The Jewish race
once more brought a deep thinker into the world, one who was radically
to heal the human mind of its rooted perversities and errors, and to
prescribe a new direction for it, that it might better comprehend the
connection between heaven and earth, between mind and matter. Like his
ancestor Abraham, this Jewish thinker desired to break to pieces all
idols and vain images, before which men had hitherto bowed down through
fear, custom, and indolence, and to reveal to them a new God, not
enthroned in heaven's height beyond their reach, but living and moving
within them, whose temple they themselves should be. His influence
was like that of the storm, deafening and crushing down, but also
purifying and refreshing.
The lightning flashes of this great philosophical genius did greatest
injury to Judaism which was nearest to him. In the degradation of the
religion of his day and its professors, even his searching gaze could
not recognize the fair form concealed beneath a loathsome exterior.
This great thinker, the most famous philosopher of his time, who
brought about a new redemption, was Baruch Spinoza (really Espinosa,
born in Spain 1632, died 1677). He belonged to a family eminent for
neither intellect nor wealth. No sign at his birth portended that he
would reign for more than two centuries a king in the realm of thought.
With many other boys, he attended the Jewish school, consisting
of seven classes, recently established in Amsterdam, whither his
parents had migrated. With his extraordinary talents he surely kept
pace with the requirements of the school, if he did not exceed them.
In his thirteenth or fourteenth year he was probably introduced by
Manasseh ben Israel to the study of the Talmud, and initiated into
Hebrew grammar, rhetoric, and poetry. He received final instruction in
Rabbinical lore from Saul Morteira, the greatest Talmudist of his time
in Amsterdam. Together with Spinoza Morteira taught others who later
had more or less influence on Jewish history, but were of quite another
stamp.
Moses Zacut (1630-1697), a descendant of the famous family of that
name, was held to be Morteira's first disciple. From his youth upwards,
with his predilection for mysticism and poetry, he formed a direct
contrast to Spinoza. He loved what was inexact and obscure, Spinoza the
clear and definite. Two incidents may serve to portray Moses Zacut.
He was asked when young what he thought of the fabulous narratives of
Rabba Bar-Bar-Chana in the Talmud, which are like those of Münchhausen,
and he replied that he regarded them as historical. When young he
learned Latin like most Portuguese youths in Amsterdam. Later, he so
regretted having learned that language, that he fasted forty days in
order to forget it, because, as he thought, this tongue of the devil
was not compatible with Kabbalistic truth. Another fellow-disciple of
Spinoza was Isaac Naar (Nahar), likewise a mystic, and of a spiteful
and not over-scrupulous nature.
Thirst for knowledge stimulated Spinoza to venture beyond the limited
circle of studies pursued in Morteira's lecture-room. He plunged into
the writings of older Jewish thinkers, three of whom alike attracted
and repelled him: Ibn-Ezra with his free-thinking and his reticence,
Moses Maimuni with his artificial system, aiming at the reconciliation
of faith and science, of Judaism and philosophy, and Chasdaï Crescas
with his hostility to traditional philosophy. Spinoza was also at
home in the Kabbala, the main doctrines of which had been rendered
accessible through Abraham de Herrera and Isaac Aboab. These various
elements heaved and fermented in his mind, which strove for insight,
and excited in his breast tormenting doubts, to which Ibn-Ezra's covert
unbelief mainly contributed. A youth of fifteen, Spinoza is said to
have expressed his doubts in the form of questions to his master
Morteira, which may have not a little perplexed a rabbi accustomed to
beaten tracks. To these elements of scepticism, conveyed to him from
Jewish literature, others were added from without. Spinoza learned
Latin, in itself nothing remarkable, since, as has been remarked,
nearly all the Jewish youths of Amsterdam, as well as Christians of
the educated classes of Holland, regarded that language as a means
of culture. But he was not contented with superficial knowledge;
he desired to drink deep of classical literature. He sought the
instruction of an eminent philologist of his time, Dr. Franz van
den Enden, who lectured in Amsterdam to noble youths, native and
foreign. Here he learned, in contact with educated Christian youths,
to adopt a different point of view from that which obtained in
Morteira's lecture-room and in Jewish circles. Van den Enden also
strongly influenced his mind. Though not an atheist, he was a man
of sceptical and satirical vein, who turned religious customs and
prejudices to ridicule, and exposed their weaknesses. But what with
him was the object of humor and wit, excited Spinoza's susceptible
and analytical mind to deep reflection and meditation. The natural
sciences, mathematics, and physics, which he pursued with devotion,
and the new-born, imposing philosophy of Descartes (Cartesius), for
which his mind had special affinity, extended his circle of vision
and enlightened his judgment. The more he imbibed ideas from various
sources, assimilating them with those innate in him, and the more his
logical understanding developed, the more did he become alienated from
Judaism, in its Rabbinical and Kabbalistic trappings, and love of Van
den Enden's learned daughter was not needed to make him a pervert from
Jewish belief.
Independent, judicial reason, which disregards what is traditional or
hallowed by time, and follows its own laws, was his mistress. To her
he dedicated pure, undivided worship, and she led him to break with
inherited views. All that cannot be justified before the inexorable
tribunal of clear human vision, passed with him for superstition
and clouded thought, if not actual frenzy. His ardent desire for
truth, pure truth and certainty, led him to a complete breach with
the religion endeared to him from childhood; he not only rejected
Talmudical Judaism, but also regarded the Bible as the work of man. The
apparent contradictions in the books of Holy Scripture appear to have
first raised his doubts as to their inspiration. It must have cost him
a hard struggle to give up the customs and opinions endeared to him
through manifold ties, and to become, to a certain extent, a new man.
For Spinoza was quite as much a moral character as a deep thinker.
To hold anything as false in theory, and yet from fear, custom, or
advantage to adopt it in practice was impossible for him. He was
differently constituted to his revered master Descartes, who kept away
from the church the torch of truth which he had kindled, made a gap
between theory and practice to avoid offending that church, and, for
example, vowed a pilgrimage to our Lady of Loretto for the success of
his system and its destructive tendency. According to Spinoza's idea
every action ought to be a true reflection of reason. When he could no
longer find truth in Judaism, he could not bring himself to follow its
ritual precepts. He ceased to attend the synagogue, cared no longer for
the Sabbath and the festivals, and broke the laws concerning diet. He
did not confine himself to the renunciation of Judaism, but imparted
his convictions to young men who sought his instruction.
The representatives of the community of Amsterdam were the more
concerned at the daily increasing report of Spinoza's estrangement
from, and hostility to Judaism, as they had in a measure looked
upon the gifted youth as their exponent, and as a firm support to
the jeopardized religion of their fathers. Now it was to be feared
that he would abandon it, go over to Christianity, and devote his
intellectual gifts to doing battle against his mother-faith. Could the
representatives of that faith, the college of rabbis and the secular
heads of the community, behold with indifference this systematic
neglect of Judaism in their midst? Fugitives were ever coming from
Spain and Portugal, who forfeited their high position, and staked
life and property, to remain true to Judaism. Others with unbending
attachment to the faith of their fathers, let themselves be dragged to
the dark prisons of the Inquisition, or with cheerful courage mounted
the funeral pile. A contemporary writer, an eye-witness, reports:
"In Spain and Portugal there are monasteries and convents full
of Jews. Not a few conceal Judaism in their heart and feign
Christianity on account of worldly goods. Some of these feel
the stings of conscience and escape, if they are able. In this
city (Amsterdam) and in several other places, we have monks,
Augustinians, Franciscans, Jesuits, Dominicans, who have
rejected idolatry. There are bishops in Spain and grave monks,
whose parents, brothers, or sisters, dwell here (in Amsterdam)
and in other cities in order to be able to profess Judaism."
At the very time when Spinoza became estranged from Judaism, the
smoke and flames of the funeral piles of Jewish martyrs rose in
several cities of Spain and Portugal, in Cuenca, Granada, Santiago de
Compostela, Cordova, and Lisbon.
In the last-named city a distinguished Marrano, Manuel Fernando de
Villa-Real, statesman, political writer, and poet, who conducted
the consular affairs of the Portuguese court at Paris, returned to
Lisbon on business, was seized by the Inquisition, gagged, and led to
execution (December 1, 1652). In Cuenca on one day (June 29, 1654)
fifty-seven Christian proselytes to Judaism were dragged to the
auto-da-fé. Most of them only received corporal chastisement with
loss of property, but ten were burned to death. Amongst them was a
distinguished man, the court-saddler Balthasar Lopez, from Valladolid,
who had amassed a fortune of 100,000 ducats. He had migrated to
Bayonne, where a small community of former Marranos was tolerated,
and had returned to Spain only to persuade a nephew to come back to
Judaism. He was seized by the Inquisition, tortured, and condemned
to death by the halter and the stake. On his way to the scaffold,
Balthasar Lopez ridiculed the Inquisition and Christianity. He
exclaimed to the executioner about to bind him, "I do not believe in
your Christ, even if you bind me," and threw the cross which had been
forced upon him to the ground. Five months later twelve Marranos were
burnt in Granada. Again, some months later (March, 1655), a promising
youth of twenty, Marcos da Almeyda Bernal, whose Jewish name was Isaac,
died at the stake; and two months afterwards (May 3d) Abraham Nuñes
Bernal was burnt at Cordova.
Whoever in the community of Amsterdam could compose verses in Spanish,
Portuguese, or Latin, sang or bewailed the martyrdom of the two
Bernals. Was Spinoza's view correct that all these martyrs, and the
thousands of Jewish victims still hounded by the Inquisition, pursued
a delusion? Could the representatives of Judaism allow unreproved, in
their immediate neighborhood, the promulgation of the idea that Judaism
is merely an antiquated error?
The college of rabbis, in which sat the two chief Chachams, Saul
Morteira and Isaac Aboab--Manasseh ben Israel was then living in
London--had ascertained the fact of Spinoza's change of opinion, and
had collected evidence. It was not easy to accuse him of apostasy, as
he did not proclaim his thoughts aloud in the market-place, as Uriel da
Costa had announced his breach with Judaism. Besides, he led a quiet,
self-contained life, and associated little with men. His avoidance of
the synagogue, the first thing probably to attract notice, could not
form the subject of a Rabbinical accusation. It is possible that, as is
related, two of his fellow-students (one, perhaps, the sly Isaac Naar)
thrust themselves upon him, drew him out, and accused him of unbelief,
and contempt for Judaism. Spinoza was summoned, tried, and admonished
to return to his former course of life. The court of rabbis did not
at first proceed with severity against him, for he was a favorite of
his teacher, and beloved in the community on account of his modest
bearing and moral behavior. By virtue of the firmness of his character
Spinoza probably made no sort of concession, but insisted upon freedom
of thought and conduct. Without doubt he was, in consequence, laid
under the lesser excommunication, that is, close intercourse with
him was forbidden for thirty days. This probably caused less pain to
Spinoza, who, self-centred, found sufficient resource in his rich
world of thought, than to the superficial Da Costa. Also, he was not
without Christian friends, and he, therefore, made no alteration in
his manner of life. This firmness was naturally construed as obstinacy
and defiance. But the rabbinate, as well as the secular authorities
of the community did not wish to exert the rigor of the Rabbinical
law against him, in order not to drive him to an extreme measure,
i. e., into the arms of the Church. What harm might not the conversion
to Christianity of so remarkable a youth entail in a newly-founded
community, consisting of Jews with Christian reminiscences! What
impression would it make on the Marranos in Spain and Portugal? Perhaps
the scandal caused by Da Costa's excommunication, still fresh in men's
memories, may have rendered a repetition impracticable. The rabbis,
therefore, privately offered Spinoza, through his friends, a yearly
pension of a thousand gulden on condition that he take no hostile step
against Judaism, and show himself from time to time in the synagogue.
But Spinoza, though young, was of so determined a character, that
money could not entice him to abandon his convictions or to act the
hypocrite. He insisted that he would not give up freedom of inquiry and
thought. He continued to impart to Jewish youths doctrines undermining
Judaism. So the tension between him and the representatives of Judaism
became daily greater; both sides were right, or imagined they were. A
fanatic in Amsterdam thought that he could put an end to this breach
by a dagger-stroke aimed at the dangerous apostate. He waylaid Spinoza
at the exit from the theatre, and struck at the philosopher with his
murderous weapon. But the latter observed the hostile movement in time,
and avoided the blow, so that only his coat was damaged. Spinoza left
Amsterdam to avoid the danger of assassination, and betook himself to
the house of a friend, likewise persecuted by the dominant Calvinistic
Church, an adherent of the sect of the Rhynsburgians, or Collectants,
who dwelt in a village between Amsterdam and Ouderkerk. Reconciliation
between Spinoza and the synagogue was no longer to be thought of. The
rabbis and the secular authorities of the community pronounced the
greater excommunication upon him, proclaiming it in the Portuguese
language on a Thursday, Ab 6th (July 24th), 1656, shortly before the
fast in memory of the destruction of Jerusalem. The sentence was
pronounced solemnly in the synagogue from the pulpit before the open
Ark. The sentence was as follows:
"The council has long had notice of the evil opinions and
actions of Baruch d'Espinosa, and these are daily increasing
in spite of efforts to reclaim him. In particular, he teaches
and proclaims dreadful heresy, of which credible witnesses are
present, who have made their depositions in presence of the
accused."
All this, they continued, had been proved in the presence of the
elders, and the council had resolved to place him under the ban, and
excommunicate him.
The usual curses were pronounced upon him in presence of scrolls of
the Law, and finally the council forbade any one to have intercourse
with him, verbally or by writing, to do him any service, to abide under
the same roof with him, or to come within the space of four cubits'
distance from him, or to read his writings. Contrary to wont, the ban
against Spinoza was stringently enforced, to keep young people from his
heresies.
Spinoza was away from Amsterdam, when the ban was hurled against him.
He is said to have received the news with indifference, and to have
remarked that he was now compelled to do what he would otherwise have
done without compulsion. His philosophic nature, which loved solitude,
could easily dispense with intercourse with relatives and former
friends. Yet the matter did not end for him there. The representative
body of the Portuguese community appealed to the municipal authorities
to effect his perpetual banishment from Amsterdam. The magistrates
referred the question, really a theological one, to the clergy, and
the latter are said to have proposed his withdrawal from Amsterdam for
some months. Most probably this procedure prompted him to elaborate
a justificatory pamphlet to show the civil authorities that he was
no violator or transgressor of the laws of the state, but that he
had exercised his just rights, when he reflected on the religion of
his forefathers and religion generally, and thought out new views.
The chain of reasoning suggested to Spinoza in the preparation of
his defense caused him doubtless to give wider extension and bearing
to this question. It gave him the opportunity to treat of freedom
of thought and inquiry generally, and so to lay the foundation of
the first of his suggestive writings, which have conferred upon him
literary immortality. In the village to which he had withdrawn,
1656-60, and later in Rhynsburg, where he also spent several years,
1660-64, Spinoza occupied himself (while polishing lenses, which
handicraft he had learned to secure his moderate subsistence) with the
Cartesian philosophy and the elaboration of the work entitled "The
Theologico-Political Treatise." His prime object was to spread the
conviction that freedom of thought can be permitted without prejudice
to religion and the peace of the state; furthermore, that it must be
permitted, for if it were forbidden, religion and peace could not exist
in the state.
The apology for freedom of thought had been rendered harder rather
than easier for Spinoza, by the subsidiary ideas with which he crossed
the main lines of his system. He could not philosophically find the
source of law, and transferred its origin to might. Neither God, nor
man's conscience, according to Spinoza, is the fountain of the eternal
law which rules and civilizes mankind; it springs from the whole
lower natural world. He made men to a certain extent "like the fishes
of the sea, like creeping things, which have no master." Large fish
have the right, not only to drink water, but also to devour smaller
fish, because they have the power to do so; the sphere of right of the
individual man extends as far as his sphere of might. This natural
right does not recognize the difference between good and evil, virtue
and vice, submission and force. But because such unlimited assertion
on the part of each must lead to a perpetual state of war of all
against all, men have tacitly, from fear, or hope, or reason, given
up their unlimited privileges to a collective body, the state. Out of
two evils--on the one hand, the full possession of their sphere of
right and might, tending to mutual destruction, and its alienation, on
the other--men have chosen the latter as the lesser evil. The state,
whether represented by a supreme authority elected for the purpose,
such as the Dutch States General, or by a despot, is the full possessor
of the rights of all, because of the power of all. Every one is bound
by his own interest to unconditional obedience, even if he should be
commanded to deprive others of life; resistance is not only punishable,
but contrary to reason. This supreme power is not controlled by any
law. Whether exercised by an individual, as in a monarchy, or by
several, as in a republic, it is justified in doing everything, and can
do no wrong. But the state has supreme right not merely over actions of
a civil nature, but also over spiritual and religious views; it could
not exist, if everyone were at liberty to attack it under the pretext
of religion. The government alone has the right to control religious
affairs, and to define belief, unbelief, orthodoxy, and heresy.
What a tyrannical conclusion! As this theory of Spinoza fails to
recognize moral law, so it ignores steadfast fidelity. As soon as the
government grows weak, it no longer has claim to obedience; everyone
may renounce and resist it, to submit himself to the incoming power.
According to this theory of civil and religious despotism, no one may
have an opinion about the laws of the state, otherwise he is a rebel.
Spinoza's theory almost does away with freedom, even of thought and
opinion. Whoever speaks against a state ordinance in a fault-finding
spirit, or to throw odium upon the government, or seeks to repeal a
law against its express wish, should be regarded as a disturber of the
public peace. Only through a sophistical quibble was Spinoza able to
save freedom of thought and free expression of opinion. Every man has
this right by nature, the only one which he has not transferred to
the state, because it is essentially inalienable. It must be conceded
to everyone to think and judge in opposition to the opinion of the
government, even to speak and teach, provided this be done with reason
and reflection, without fraud, anger, or malice, and without the
intention of causing a revolution.
On this weak basis, supported by a few other secondary considerations,
Spinoza justified his conflict with Judaism and his philosophical
attacks upon the sacred writings recognized by the Dutch States.
He thought that he had succeeded in justifying himself before the
magistrates sufficiently by his defense of freedom of thought. In the
formulation of this apology it was apparent that he was not indifferent
to the treatment which he had experienced from the college of rabbis.
Spinoza was so filled with displeasure, if not with hatred, of Jews
and Judaism, that his otherwise clear judgment was biased. He, like
Da Costa, called the rabbis nothing but Pharisees, and imputed
to them ambitious and degraded motives, while they wished only to
secure their treasured beliefs against attacks. Prouder even than his
contemporaries, the French and English philosophers, of freedom of
thought, for centuries repressed by the church, and now soaring aloft
the more powerfully, Spinoza summoned theology, in particular, ancient
Judaism before the throne of reason, examined its dogmas and archives,
and pronounced sentence of condemnation upon his mother-faith. He had
erected a tower of thought in his brain from which, as it were, he
wished to storm heaven. Spinoza's philosophy is like a fine net, laid
before our eyes, mesh by mesh, by which the human understanding is
unexpectedly ensnared, so that half voluntarily, half compulsorily, it
surrenders. Spinoza recognized, as no thinker before, those universal
laws, immutable as iron, which are apparent in the development of the
most insignificant grain of seed no less than in the revolution of the
heavenly bodies, in the precision of mathematical thought as in the
apparent irregularity of human passions. Whilst these laws work with
constant uniformity, and produce the same causes and the same phenomena
in endless succession, the instruments of law are perishable things,
creatures of a day, which rise, and vanish to give place to others:
here eternity, there temporality; on the one side necessity, on the
other chance; here reality, there delusive appearances. These and other
enigmas Spinoza sought to solve with the penetration that betrays
the son of the Talmud, and with logical consecutiveness and masterly
arrangement, for which Aristotle might have envied him.
The whole universe, all individual things, and their active powers are,
according to Spinoza, not merely from God, but of God; they constitute
the infinite succession of forms in which God reveals Himself, through
which He eternally works according to His eternal nature--the soul,
as it were, of thinking bodies, the body of the soul extended in
space. God is the indwelling, not the external efficient cause of all
things; all is in God and moves in God. God as creator and generator
of all things is generative or self-producing nature. The whole of
nature is animate, and ideas, as bodies, move in eternity on lines
running parallel to or intersecting one another. Though the fullness
of things which have proceeded from God and which exist in Him are not
of an eternal, but of a perishable nature, yet they are not limited or
defined by chance, but by the necessity of the divine nature, each in
its own way existing or acting within its smaller or larger sphere. The
eternal and constant nature of God works in them through the eternal
laws communicated to them. Things could, therefore, not be constituted
otherwise than they are; for they are the manifestations, entering into
existence in an eternal stream, of God in the intimate connection of
thought and extension.
What is man's place in this logical system? How is he to act and work?
Even he, with all his greatness and littleness, his strength and
weakness, his heaven-aspiring mind, and his body subject to the need of
sustenance, is nothing more than a form of existence (Modus) of God.
Man after man, generation after generation, springs up and perishes,
flows away like a drop in a perpetual stream, but his nature, the laws
by which he moves bodily and mentally in the peculiar connection of
mind and matter, reflect the Divine Being. Especially the human mind,
or rather the various modes of thought, the feelings and conceptions
of all men, form the eternal reason of God. But man is as little free
as things, as the stone which rolls down from the mountain; he has to
obey the causes which influence him from within and without. Each of
his actions is the product of an infinite series of causes and effects,
which he can scarcely discern, much less control and alter at will.
The good man and the bad, the martyr who sacrifices himself for a noble
object, as well as the execrable villain and the murderer, are all
like clay in the hands of God; they act, the one well, the other ill,
compelled by their inner nature. They all act from rigid necessity. No
man can reproach God for having given him a weak nature or a clouded
intellect, as it would be irrational if a circle should complain that
God has not given it the nature and properties of the sphere. It is not
the lot of every man to be strong-minded, and it lies as little in his
power to have a sound mind as a sound body.
On one side man is, to a certain extent, free, or rather some men
of special mental endowments can free themselves a little from the
pressure exercised upon them. Man is a slave chiefly through his
passions. Love, hate, anger, thirst for glory, avarice, make him the
slave of the external world. These passions spring from the perplexity
of the soul, which thinks it can control things, but wears itself out,
so to speak, against their obstinate resistance, and suffers pain
thereby. The better the soul succeeds in comprehending the succession
of causes and effects and the necessity of phenomena in the plan of
the universe, the better able is it to change pain into a sense of
comfort. Through higher insight, man, if he allows himself to be led by
reason, can acquire strength of soul, and feel increased love to God,
that is, to the eternal whole. On the one hand, this secures nobility
of mind to aid men and to win them by mildness and benevolence; and
creates, on the other, satisfaction, joy, and happiness. He who is
gifted with highest knowledge lives in God, and God in him. Knowledge
is virtue, as ignorance is, to a certain extent, vice. Whilst the
wise man, or strictly speaking, the philosopher, thanks to his higher
insight and his love of God, enjoys tranquillity of soul, the man
of clouded intellect, who abandons himself to the madness of his
passions, must dispense with this joyousness, and often perishes in
consequence. The highest virtue, according to Spinoza's system, is
self-renunciation through knowledge, keeping in a state of passiveness,
coming as little as possible in contact with the crushing machinery of
forces--avoiding them if they come near, or submitting to them if
their wild career overthrows the individual. But as he who is beset
by desires deserves no blame, so no praise is due the wise man who
practices self-renunciation; both follow the law of their nature.
Higher knowledge and wisdom cannot be attained if the conditions are
wanting, namely, a mind susceptible of knowledge and truth, which one
can neither give himself, nor throw off. Man has thus no final aim, any
more than the eternal substance.
Spinoza's moral doctrines--ethics in the narrower sense--are just
as unfruitful as his political theories. In either case, he recognizes
submission as the only rational course.
With this conception of God and moral action, it cannot surprise us
that Judaism found no favor in Spinoza's eyes. Judaism lays down
directly opposite principles--beckons man to a high, self-reliant
task, and proclaims aloud the progress of mankind in simple service
of God, holiness, and victory over violence, the sword, and degrading
war. This progress has been furthered in many ways by Judaism in the
course of ages. Wanting, as Spinoza was, in apprehension of historical
events, more wonderful than the phenomena of nature, and unable as he
therefore was to accord to Judaism special importance, he misconceived
it still further through his bitterness against the Amsterdam college
of rabbis, who pardonably enough, had excommunicated him. Spinoza
transferred his bitterness against the community to the whole Jewish
race and to Judaism. As has been already said, he called the rabbis
Pharisees in his "Theologico-Political Treatise" and in letters to
his friends, and gave the most invidious meaning to this word. To
Christianity, on the contrary, Spinoza conceded great excellencies; he
regarded Judaism with displeasure, therefore, detected deficiencies
and absurdities everywhere, while he cast a benevolent eye upon
Christianity, and overlooked its weaknesses. Spinoza, therefore, with
all the instinct for truth which characterized him, formed a conception
of Judaism which, in some degree just, was, in many points, perverse
and defective. Clear as his mind was in metaphysical inquiries, it was
dark and confused on historical ground. To depreciate Judaism, Spinoza
declared that the books of Holy Scripture contain scribes' errors,
interpolations, and disfigurements, and are not, as a rule, the work
of the authors to whom they are ascribed--not even the Pentateuch,
the original source of Judaism. Ezra, perhaps, first collected and
arranged it after the Babylonian exile. The genuine writings of Moses
are no longer extant, not even the Ten Commandments being in their
original form. Nevertheless, Spinoza accepted every word in the Bible
as a kind of revelation, and designated all persons who figure in it as
prophets. He conceded, on the ground of Scripture, that the revelation
of the prophets was authenticated by visible signs. Nevertheless, he
very much underrated this revelation. Moses, the prophets, and all
the higher personages of the Bible had only a confused notion of God,
nature, and living beings; they were not philosophers, they did not
avail themselves of the natural light of reason. Jesus stood higher;
he taught not only a nation, but the whole of mankind on rational
grounds. The Apostles, too, were to be set higher than the prophets,
since they introduced a natural method of instruction, and worked
not merely through signs, but also through rational conviction. As
though the main effort of the Apostles, to which their whole zeal was
devoted, viz., to reach belief in the miraculous resurrection of Jesus,
were consistent with reason! It was only Spinoza's bitterness against
Jews which caused him to depreciate their spiritual property and
overrate Christianity. His sober intellect, penetrating to the eternal
connection of things and events, could not accept miracles, but those
of the New Testament he judged mildly.
In spite of his condemnatory verdict on Judaism, he was struck by two
phenomena, which he did not fully understand, and which, therefore, he
judged only superficially according to his system. These were the moral
greatness of the prophets, and the superiority of the Israelite state,
which in a measure depend on each other. Without understanding the
political organization, in which natural and moral laws, necessity and
freedom work together, Spinoza explains the origin of the Jewish state,
that is, of Judaism, in the following manner: When the Israelites,
after deliverance from slavery in Egypt, were free from all political
bondage, and restored to their natural rights, they willingly chose
God as their Lord, and transferred their rights to Him alone by formal
contract and alliance. That there be no appearance of fraud on the
divine side, God permitted them to recognize His marvelous power, by
virtue of which He had hitherto preserved, and promised in future to
preserve them, that is, He revealed Himself to them in His glory on
Sinai; thus God became the King of Israel and the state a theocracy.
Religious opinions and truths, therefore, had a legal character in
this state, religion and civic right coincided. Whoever revolted from
religion forfeited his rights as a citizen, and whoever died for
religion was a patriot. Pure democratic equality, the right of all to
entreat God and interpret the laws, prevailed among the Israelites.
But when, in the overpowering bewilderment of the revelation from
Sinai, they voluntarily asked Moses to receive the laws from God and
to interpret them, they renounced their equality, and transferred their
rights to Moses. Moses from that time became God's representative.
Hence, he promulgated laws suited to the condition of the people at
that time, and introduced ceremonies to remind them always of the Law
and keep them from willfulness, so that in accordance with a definite
precept they should plough, sow, eat, clothe themselves, in a word,
do everything according to the precepts of the Law. Above all, he
provided that they might not act from childish or slavish fear, but
from reverence for God. He bound them by benefits, and promised them
earthly prosperity--all through the power and by the command of
God. Moses was vested with spiritual and civil power, and authorized
to transmit both. He preferred to transfer the civil power to his
disciple Joshua in full, but not as a heritage, and the spiritual power
to his brother Aaron as a heritage, but limited by the civil ruler,
and not accompanied by a grant of territory. After the death of Moses
the Jewish state was neither a monarchy, nor an aristocracy, nor a
democracy; it remained a theocracy. The family of the high-priest was
God's interpreter, and the civil power, after Joshua's death, fell to
single tribes or their chiefs.
This constitution offered many advantages. The civil rulers could not
turn the law to their own advantage, nor oppress the people, for the
Law was the province of the sacerdotal order--the sons of Aaron and
the Levites. Besides, the people were made acquainted with the Law
through the prescribed reading at the close of the Sabbatical year, and
would not have passed over with indifference any willful transgression
of the law of the state. The army was composed of native militia, while
foreigners, that is, mercenaries, were excluded. Thus the rulers were
prevented from oppressing the people or waging war arbitrarily. The
tribes were united by religion, and the oppression of one tribe by its
ruler would have been punished by the rest. The princes were not placed
at the head through rank or privilege of blood, but through capacity
and merit. Finally, the institution of prophets proved very wholesome.
Since the constitution was theocratical, every one of blameless life
was able through certain signs to represent himself as a prophet
like Moses, draw the oppressed people to him in the name of God, and
oppose the tyranny of the rulers. This peculiar constitution produced
in the heart of the Israelites an especial patriotism, which was at
the same time a religion, so that no one would betray it, leave God's
kingdom, or swear allegiance to a foreigner. This love, coupled with
hatred against other nations, and fostered by daily worship of God,
became second nature to the Israelites. It strengthened them to endure
everything for their country with steadfastness and courage. This
constitution offered a further advantage, because the land was equally
divided, and no one could be permanently deprived of his portion
through poverty, as restitution had to be made in the year of jubilee.
Hence, there was little poverty, or such only as was endurable, for
the love of one's neighbor had to be exercised with the greatest
conscientiousness to keep the favor of God, the King. Finally, a large
space was accorded to gladness. Thrice a year and on other occasions
the people were to assemble at festivals, not to revel in sensual
enjoyments, but to accustom themselves to follow God gladly; for there
is no more effectual means of guiding the hearts of men than the joy
which arises from love and admiration.
After Spinoza had depicted Israel's theocracy quite as a pattern for
all states, he was apparently startled at having imparted so much
light to the picture, and he looked around for shade. Instead of
answering in a purely historical manner the questions, whence it
came that the Hebrews were so often subdued, and why their state was
entirely destroyed; instead of indicating that these wholesome laws
remained a never realized ideal, Spinoza suggests a sophistic solution.
Because God did not wish to make Israel's dominion lasting, he gave
bad laws and statutes. Spinoza supports this view by a verse which he
misunderstood. These bad laws, rebellion against the sacerdotal state,
coupled with bad morals, produced discontent, revolt, and insurrection.
At last matters went so far, that instead of the Divine King, the
Israelites chose a human one, and instead of the temple, a court.
Monarchy, however, only increased the disorder; it could not endure the
state within the state, the high-priesthood, and lowered the dignity of
the latter by the introduction of strange worship. The prophets could
avail nothing, because they only declaimed against the tyrants, but
could not remove the cause of the evils. All things combined brought
on the destruction of the divine state. With its destruction by the
Babylonian king, the natural rights of the Israelites were transferred
to the conqueror, and they were bound to obey him and his successors,
as they had obeyed God. All the laws of Judaism, nay, the whole of
Judaism, was thereby abolished, and no longer had any significance.
This was the result of Spinoza's inquiry in his "Theologico-Political
Treatise." Judaism had a brilliant past, God concluded an alliance with
the people, showed to them His exalted power, and gave them excellent
laws; but He did not intend Israel's preëminence to be permanent,
therefore He also gave bad laws. Consequently, Judaism reached its end
more than two thousand years ago, and yet it continued its existence!
Wonderful! Spinoza found the history of Israel and the constitution of
the state excellent during the barbarism of the period of the Judges,
while the brilliant epochs of David and Solomon and of King Uzziah
remained inexplicable to him. And, above all, the era of the second
Temple, the Maccabean epoch, when the Jewish nation rose from shameful
degradation to a brilliant height, and brought the heathen world itself
to worship the one God and adopt a moral life, remained to Spinoza
an insoluble riddle. This shows that his whole demonstration and his
analysis (schematism) cannot stand the test of criticism, but rests on
false assumptions.
Spinoza might have brought Judaism into extreme peril; for he not only
furnished its opponents with the weapons of reason to combat Judaism
more effectually, but also conceded to every state and magistrate the
right to suppress it and use force against its followers, to which
they ought meekly to submit. The funeral piles of the Inquisition
for Marranos were, according to Spinoza's system, doubly justified;
citizens have no right on rational grounds to resist the recognized
religion of the state, and it is folly to profess Judaism and to
sacrifice oneself for it. But a peculiar trait of Spinoza's character
stood Judaism in good stead. He loved peace and quiet too well to
become a propagandist for his critical principles. "To be peaceable
and peaceful" was his ideal; avoidance of conflict and opposition
was at once his strength and his weakness. To his life's end he led
an ideally-philosophical life; for food, clothing, and shelter, he
needed only so much as he could earn with his handicraft of polishing
lenses, which his friends disposed of. He struggled against accepting
a pension, customarily bestowed on learned men at that time, even from
his sincere and rich admirers, Simon de Vries and the grand pensionary
De Witt, that he might not fall into dependence, constraint, and
disquiet. By reason of this invincible desire for philosophic calm
and freedom from care, he would not decide in favor of either of
the political parties, then setting the States General in feverish
agitation. Not even the exciting murder of his friend John de Witt
was able to hurry him into partisanship. Spinoza bewailed his high
and noble friend, but did not defend his honor, to clear it of
suspicion. When the most highly cultivated German prince of his time,
Count-Palatine Karl Ludwig, who cherished a certain affection for
Jews, offered him, "the Protestant Jew," as he was still called,
the chair of philosophy in the University of Heidelberg under very
favorable conditions, Spinoza declined the offer. He did not conceal
his reason: he would not surrender his quietude. From this predominant
tendency, or, rather, from fear of disturbance and inconveniences and
from apprehension of calling enemies down upon him, or of coming into
collision with the state, he refused to publish his speculations for
a long time. When at last he resolved, on the pressure of friends, to
send "The Theologico-Political Treatise" to press, he did not put his
name to the work, which made an epoch in literature, and even caused
a false place of publication, viz., Hamburg, to be printed on the
title-page, in order to obliterate every trace of its real authorship.
He almost denied his offspring, to avoid being disturbed.
As might have been foreseen, the appearance of "The
Theologico-Political Treatise" (1670), made an extraordinary stir. No
one had written so distinctly and incisively concerning the relation
of religion to philosophy and the power of the state, and, above all,
had so sharply condemned the clergy. The ministers of all denominations
were extraordinarily excited against this "godless" book, as it was
called, which disparaged revealed religion. Spinoza's influential
friends were not able to protect it; it was condemned by a decree of
the States General, and forbidden to be sold--which only caused it to
be read more eagerly. But Spinoza was the more reluctant to publish
his other writings, especially his philosophical system. With all his
strength of character, he did not belong to those bold spirits, who
undertake to be the pioneers of truth, who usher it into the world with
loud voice, and win it adherents, unconcerned as to whether they may
have to endure bloody or bloodless martyrdom. In the unselfishness of
Spinoza's character and system there lurked an element of selfishness,
namely, the desire to be disturbed as little as possible in the
attainment of knowledge, in the happiness of contemplation, and in
reflection upon the universe and the chain of causes and effects
which prevail in it. A challenge to action, effort, and resistance to
opposition lay neither in Spinoza's temper, nor in his philosophy.
In this apparently harmless feature lay also the reason that his most
powerful and vehemently conducted attacks upon Judaism made no deep
impression, and called forth no great commotion in the Jewish world. At
the time when Spinoza threw down the challenge to Judaism, a degree of
culture and science prevailed in the Jewish-Portuguese circle, unknown
either before or after; there reigned in the community of Amsterdam and
its colonies a literary activity and fecundity, which might be called
classical, if the merit of the literary productions had corresponded
with their compass. The authors were chiefly cultivated Marranos, who
had escaped from the Spanish or Portuguese prisons of the Inquisition
to devote themselves in free Holland to their faith and free inquiry.
There were philosophers, physicians, mathematicians, philologists,
poets, even poetesses. Many of these Marranos who escaped to Amsterdam
had gone through peculiar vicissitudes. A monk of Valencia, Fray
Vincent de Rocamora (1601-1684), had been eminent in Catholic theology.
He had been made confessor to the Infanta Maria, afterwards empress
of Germany and a persecutor of the Jews. One day the confessor fled
from Spain, reached Amsterdam, declared himself as Isaac de Rocamora,
studied medicine at the age of forty, and became the happy father of
a family and president of Jewish benevolent institutions. The quondam
monk, afterwards Parnass (president of the community), was also a good
poet, and wrote admirable Spanish and Latin verses.
Enrique Enriquez de Paz of Segovia (1600-1660), the Jewish Calderon,
had a very different career. Having entered the army while young, he
behaved so gallantly that he won the order of San Miguel, and was made
captain. Besides the sword, he wielded the pen, with which he described
comic figures and situations. Enriquez de Paz, or, as he was styled
in his poetical capacity, Antonio Enriquez de Gomez, composed more
than two and twenty comedies, some of which were put upon the stage at
Madrid, and, being taken for Calderon's productions, were received with
much applause. Neither Mars nor the Muses succeeded in protecting him
against the Inquisition; he could escape its clutches only by rapid
flight. He lived a long time in France. His prolific muse celebrated
Louis XIV, the queen of France, the powerful statesman Richelieu,
and other high personages of the court. He bewailed in elegies his
misfortunes and the loss of his country, which he loved like a son,
step-mother though she had been to him. Although blessed by fortune,
Enriquez de Paz felt himself unhappy in the rude north, far from the
blue mountains and mild air of Spain. He lamented:
"I have won for myself wealth and traveled over many seas, and
heaped up ever fresh treasures by thousands; now my hair is
bleached, my beard as snowy white as my silver bars, the reward
of my labors."
He lived in France, too, as a Christian, but proclaimed his sympathy
with Judaism by mourning in elegiac verses the martyrdom of Lope de
Vera y Alarcon. Finally he settled down in the asylum of the Marranos,
whilst his effigy was burnt on the funeral pile at Seville. There had
been again a great auto-da-fé (1660) of sixty Marranos, of whom four
were first strangled and then burned, whilst three were burned alive.
Effigies of escaped Marranos were borne along in procession, and thrown
into the flames--amongst them that of the knight of San Miguel, the
writer of comedies. A new-Christian, who was present at this horrible
sight, and soon after escaped to Amsterdam, met Gomez in the street,
and exclaimed excitedly: "Ah! Señor Gomez! I saw your effigy burn on
the funeral pile at Seville!" "Well," he replied, "they are welcome to
it." Along with his numerous secular poems, Enriquez Gomez left one of
Jewish national interest in celebration of the hero-judge Samson. The
laurels which the older Spanish poet Miguel Silveyra, also a Marrano,
whom he admired, had won by his epic, "The Maccabee," haunted him until
he had brought out a companion piece. To the blind hero who avenged
himself on the Philistines by his very death, Gomez assigned verses
which expressed his own heart:
"I die for Thy holy word, for Thy religion,
For Thy doctrine, Thy hallowed commandments,
For the nation adopted by Thy choice,
For Thy sublime ordinance I die."
Another point of view is presented by two emigrant Marranos of this
period, father and son, the two Pensos, the one rich in possessions and
charity, the other in poetical gifts. They probably sprang from Espejo,
in the province of Cordova, escaped from the fury of the Inquisition,
and at last settled, after many changes of residence, as Jews in
Amsterdam. Isaac Penso (died 1683) the elder, a banker, was a father to
the poor. He spent a tithe of the income from his property on the poor,
and distributed, up to his death, 40,000 gulden. His decease aroused
deep regret in the community of Amsterdam. His son (Felice) Joseph
Penso, also called De la Vega from his mother's family (1650-1703),
was a rich merchant, and turned his attention to poetry. A youth of
seventeen, he awoke the long-slumbering echo of neo-Hebraic poesy, and
caused it to strike its highest note. Joseph Penso boldly undertook a
most difficult task; he composed a Hebrew drama. Since Immanuel Romi
had written his witty tales in verse, the neo-Hebraic muse had been
stricken with sterility, for which the increasing troubles of the
times were not alone to blame. Moses da Rieti and the poetic school of
Salonica composed verses, but did not write poetry. Even the greatest
of Jewish poets, Gebirol and Jehuda Halevi, had produced only lyric
and didactic poetry, and had not thought of the drama. Joseph Penso,
inspired by the poetical air of Spain, the land of his birth, where
Lope de Vega's and Calderon's melodious verses were heard beside the
litany of the monks and the cry of the sacrificial victims, transferred
Spanish art forms to neo-Hebraic poetry. Penso happily imitated the
various kinds of metre and strophe of European poetry in the language
of David and Isaiah.
One may not, indeed, apply a severe standard to Joseph Penso's drama,
but should endeavor to forget that long before him Shakespeare had
created life-like forms and interests. For, measured by these, Penso's
dramatic monologue and dialogue seem puerile. However free from blame
his versification is, the invention is poor, the ideas commonplace. A
king who takes a serious view of his responsibilities as ruler is led
astray, now by his own impulses (Yezer), now by a coquette (Isha), now
by Satan. Three other opposing forces endeavor to lead him in the right
way--his own judgment (Sechel), divine inspiration (Hashgacha), and
an angel. These are the characters in Penso's drama "The Captives of
Hope" (Asiré ha-Tikwah). But if one takes into consideration the object
which Penso had in view, viz., to hold up a mirror to Marrano youths
settled at Amsterdam, who had been used to Spanish licentiousness, and
to picture to them the high value of a virtuous life, the performance
of the youthful poet is not to be despised. Joseph Penso de la Vega
composed a large number of verses in Spanish, occasional poetry, moral
and philosophical reflections, and eulogies on princes. His novels,
entitled "The Dangerous Courses" (los Rumbos peligrosos), were popular.
Marrano poets of mediocre ability were so numerous at this time in
Amsterdam, that one of them, the Spanish resident in the Netherlands,
Manuel Belmonte (Isaac Nuñes), appointed count-palatine, founded an
academy of poetry. Poetical works were to be handed in, and as judges
he appointed the former confessor, De Rocamora, and another Marrano,
who composed Latin verses, Isaac Gomez de Sosa. The latter was so much
enraptured of Penso's Hebrew drama, that he triumphantly proclaimed, in
Latin verse:
"Now is it at length attained! The Hebrew Muse strides along on
high-heeled buskin safe and sound. With the measured step of
poetry she is conducted auspiciously by Joseph--sprung from
that race which still is mostly in captivity. Lo! a clear beam
of hope shines afresh, that now even the stage may be opened to
sacred song. Yet why do I praise him? The poet is celebrated by
his own poetry, and his own work proclaims the praise of the
master."
Another of the friends of the Jewish dramatist was Nicolas de Oliver
y Fullana (Daniel Jehuda), poet, and colonel in the Spanish service;
he was knighted, entered the service of Holland, and was an accurate
cartographer and cosmographer. There was also Joseph Szemach (Sameh)
Arias, a man of high military rank, who translated into Spanish the
work of the historian Josephus against Apion, which controverted the
old prejudices and falsehoods against Jews. This polemic was not
superfluous even at this time. Of the Jewish Marrano poetesses, it will
suffice to name the fair and gifted Isabel Correa (Rebecca), who twined
a wreath of various poems, and translated the Italian popular drama,
"The True Shepherd" (Pastor Fido, by Guarini) into beautiful Spanish
verse. Isabel was the second wife of the poet-warrior, De Oliver y
Fullana.
Of a far different stamp was the Marrano Thomas de Pinedo (Isaac,
1614-1679) of Portugal, educated in a Jesuit college at Madrid. He was
more at home in classical than in Jewish antiquity, and applied himself
to a branch of study little cultivated in Spain in his time, that of
ancient geography. He, too, was driven out of Spain by the Inquisition,
and deemed himself fortunate to have escaped unhurt. The philologist De
Pinedo dwelt later on in Amsterdam, where he printed his comprehensive
work. He composed his own epitaph in Latin.
We must not leave unmentioned a personage celebrated at that time
perhaps beyond his deserts, Jacob Jehuda Leon (Templo, 1603-1671).
If not a Marrano, he was of Marrano descent, and resided first at
Middelburg, then at Amsterdam, and was more an artist than a man of
science. Leon devoted himself to the reproduction of the first Temple
and its vessels, as they are described in the Bible and the Talmud.
He executed a model of the Temple on a reduced scale (3 yards square,
1-1/2 in height), and added a concise, clear description in Spanish
and Hebrew. Work of so unusual a character attracted extraordinary
notice at a time when every kind of antiquarian learning, especially
biblical, was highly prized. The government of Holland and Zealand
gave the author the copyright privilege. Duke August of Brunswick, and
his wife Elizabeth, wished to possess a German translation of Leon's
description, and commissioned Professor John Saubert, of Helmstädt,
to undertake it. While corresponding with the author so as to ensure
thoroughness, he was anticipated by another man who brought out a
German translation at Hanover. This circumstance caused great annoyance
to Professor Saubert. Templo, as Leon and his posterity were surnamed
from his work in connection with the Temple, engaged in controversies
with Christian ecclesiastics on Judaism and Christianity, and published
a translation of the Psalms in Spanish.
In this cultivated circle of Spinoza's contemporaries were two men who
lived alternately at Hamburg and Amsterdam, David Coen de Lara and
Dionysius Musaphia, both distinguished as philologists, but not for
much besides. With their knowledge of Latin and Greek they explained
the dialect of the Talmud, and corrected errors which had crept into
the earlier Talmudical lexicons. David de Lara (1610-1674) was also a
preacher and writer on morals; but his efforts in that direction are of
small value. He associated too much with the Hamburg preacher, Esdras
Edzardus, who was bent on the conversion of the Jews. The latter spread
the false report that De Lara was almost a Christian before he died.
Dionysius (Benjamin) Musaphia (born about 1616, died at Amsterdam,
1676), a physician and student of natural science, was up to the date
of the monarch's death in the service of the Danish king Christian IV.
He was also a philosopher, and allowed himself to question various
things in the Talmud and the Bible. Nevertheless he held the office of
rabbi at Amsterdam in his old age.
Much more important than the whole of this circle was Balthasar
Orobio de Castro (1620-1687). He also sprang from Marrano parents,
who secretly continued to cling to Judaism, in that they abstained
from food and drink on the Day of Atonement. In this meager conception
of Judaism, Orobio was brought up. Endowed with clear intellect, he
studied the decayed and antiquated philosophy still taught in Spanish
academies, and became professor of metaphysics in the University of
Salamanca. This fossilized philosophy appears neither to have satisfied
him nor to have brought him sufficient means of subsistence, for he
applied himself in riper years to the study of medicine. In this
pursuit Orobio was more successful; he gained a reputation at Seville,
was physician to the duke of Medina-Celi, and to a family in high favor
with the court, and amassed considerable wealth. He was a happy husband
and father, when the Inquisition cast its baleful glance upon him. A
servant, whom he had punished for theft, had informed against him.
Orobio was seized, accused of Judaism, and thrown into a narrow, gloomy
dungeon, where he had not room to move, and where he spent three years
(about 1655-1658).
At first he filled up his time with philosophical subtleties, as
pursued at the Spanish universities. He undertook to defend a thesis,
acting at the same time in imagination as the opponent, who interposes
objections, and as the judge, who sums up and sifts the arguments.
By degrees his mind grew so perplexed that he often asked himself,
"Am I really Don Balthasar Orobio, who went about in the streets of
Seville, and lived in comfort with his family?" His past seemed a
dream, and he believed that he had been born in prison, and must die
there. But the tribunal of the Inquisition brought a change into his
empty dream-life. He was ushered into a dark vault, lighted only by a
dull lamp. He could hardly distinguish the judge, the secretary, and
the executioner, who were about to deal with his case. Having been
again admonished to confess his heresy, and having again denied it, the
hangman undressed him, bound him with cords, which were fastened to
hooks in the wall, brought his body into a swinging movement between
the ceiling and the floor, and drew the cords so tight, that the blood
spurted from his nails. His feet, moreover, were strongly bound to
a small ladder, the steps of which were studded with spikes. Whilst
being tortured, he was frequently admonished to make confession, and
was threatened, in case he persisted in denial, with the infliction of
still more horrible pains, for which, though they caused his death, he
would have to thank his own obstinacy, not the tribunal. However, he
survived the torture, was taken back to prison to allow his wounds to
heal, then condemned to wear the garb of shame (San Benito), and was
finally banished from Spain. He betook himself to Toulouse, where he
became professor of medicine in the university. Although respected in
his new position, Orobio could not long endure the hypocrisy. He went
to Amsterdam, publicly professed the Jewish religion, and assumed the
name of Isaac (about 1666). No wonder that he became a bitter opponent
of Christianity, which he had learnt to know thoroughly. He became an
adherent of Judaism from conviction, proved himself a courageous and
able champion of the religion of his fathers, and dealt such powerful
blows to Christianity as few before him, so that a distinguished
Protestant theologian (Van Limborch) felt compelled to reply to
Orobio's attacks.
All these cultivated youths and men, the soldier-poets Enriquez Gomez,
Nicholas de Oliver y Fullana, and Joseph Arias, and the writers Joseph
Penso, Thomas de Pinedo, Jacob Leon, David de Lara, and Dionysius
Musaphia, knew of Spinoza's attacks upon Judaism, and undoubtedly read
his "Theologico-Political Treatise." Isaac Orobio associated with
Spinoza. Yet the blows by which the latter strove to shake Judaism did
not cause the former to waver in their convictions. This is the more
remarkable, as simultaneously, from another side, Judaism was covered
with shame, or, what comes to the same thing, its followers everywhere
in the East and West, with few exceptions, became slaves to a delusion
which exposed them to the ridicule of the world, and enveloped them for
the first time in the darkness of the Middle Ages.
Without suspecting it, Spinoza possessed in the East an ally,
diametrically his opposite, who labored to disintegrate Judaism, and
succeeded in throwing the whole Jewish race into a turmoil, which long
interfered with its progress. Sabbataï Zevi was at once Spinoza's
opposite and his ally. He possessed many more admirers than the
philosopher of Amsterdam, became for a space the idol of the Jewish
race, and has secret adherents even to the present time. Sabbataï Zevi
(born Ab 9, 1626, died 1676), of Smyrna, in Asia Minor, was of Spanish
descent, and became the originator of a new Messianic frenzy, the
founder of a new sect. He owed the attachment which he inspired even as
a youth, not to his qualities of mind, but to his external appearance
and attractive manner. He was tall, well formed, had fine dark hair, a
fine beard, and a pleasant voice, which won hearts by speech and still
more by song. But his mind was befogged by reason of the predominance
of fancy; he had an enthusiastic temperament and an inclination to what
was strange, especially to solitude. In boyhood Sabbataï Zevi avoided
the company and games of playmates, sought solitary places, and what
usually has charms for the young did not attract him. He was educated
by the current method. In early youth he studied the Talmud in the
school of the veteran Joseph Eskapha, a staunch Talmudist of Smyrna,
but did not attain to great proficiency. The more was he attracted by
the confused jumble of the Kabbala. Once introduced into the labyrinth
of the Zohar, he felt himself at home therein, guided by Lurya's
interpretation. Sabbataï Zevi shared the prevailing opinion that the
Kabbala can be acquired only by means of asceticism. He mortified his
body, and bathed very frequently in the sea, day and night, winter
and summer. Perhaps it was from sea-bathing that his body derived the
peculiar fragrance which his worshipers strongly maintained that it
possessed. In early manhood he presented a contrast to his companions
because he felt no attraction to the female sex. According to custom
Sabbataï Zevi married early, but avoided his young, good-looking wife
so pertinaciously, that she applied for divorce, which he willingly
granted her. The same thing happened with a second wife.
This aversion to marriage, rare in the warm climate of the East,
his assiduous study of the Kabbala, and his ascetic life, attracted
attention. Disciples sought him, and were introduced by him to the
Kabbala. Twenty years old he was the master of a small circle. He
attached disciples to himself partly by his earnest and retiring
manner, which precluded familiarity, partly by his musical voice,
with which he sang in Spanish the Kabbalistic verses composed by
Lurya or himself. Another circumstance must be added. When Sultan
Ibrahim ascended the throne, a violent war broke out between Turkey
and Venice, which made the trade of the Levant unsafe in the capital.
Several European, that is, Dutch and English, mercantile houses
in consequence transferred their offices to Smyrna. This hitherto
insignificant city thereby acquired importance as a mart. The Jews of
Smyrna, who had been poor, profited by this commercial development, and
amassed great riches, first as agents of large houses, afterwards as
independent firms. Mordecai Zevi, Sabbataï's father, from the Morea,
originally poor, became the Smyrna agent of an English house, executed
its commissions with strict honesty, enjoyed the confidence of the
principals, and became a wealthy man. His increasing prosperity was
attributed by the blind father to the merit of his Kabbala-loving son,
to whom he paid such great reverence, that it was communicated to
strangers. Sabbataï was regarded as a young saint. The more discreet,
on account of his folly, declared him to be mad. In the house of his
English principal, Mordecai Zevi often heard the approach of the
millennium discussed, either he himself or some of his people being
enthusiastic believers in the apocalypse of the Fifth Monarchy. The
year 1666 was designated by these enthusiasts as the Messianic year,
which was to bring renewed splendor to the Jews and see their return to
Jerusalem. The expectations heard in the English counting house were
communicated by Mordecai Zevi to the members of his family, none of
whom listened more attentively than Sabbataï, already entangled in the
maze of the Luryan Kabbala, and inclined to mistake enthusiastic hopes
for prosaic fact. What if he himself were called upon to usher in this
time of redemption? Had he not, at an earlier age than any one before,
penetrated to the heart of the Kabbala? And who could be more worthy of
this call than one deeply immersed in its mysteries?
The central point of the later Kabbala was most intense expectation of
the Messiah; Lurya, Vital, and their disciples and followers proclaimed
anew, "The kingdom of heaven is at hand." A peculiar redemption was to
precede and accompany it--the redemption of the scattered elements
of the original soul (Nizuzoth) from the fetters of original evil, the
demon nature (Kelifoth), which, taking a hold on men through the fall
of the angels or divine elements, held them in captivity, impeded their
upward flight, and necessitated the perpetual transmigration of souls
from body to body. As soon as the evil spirit was either consumed,
annihilated, rendered powerless, or at least existed by itself without
admixture of the divine, then the Kabbalistic order (Olam ha-Tikkun)
would prevail, streams of mercy would pour forth without let or
hindrance upon the lower world through the channels of the Sefiroth,
and fructify and miraculously quicken it. This work of redemption
can be accomplished by every truly pious man (Zaddik), who having an
enlightened soul, and being initiated into the Kabbala, stands in close
union with the world of spirits, comprehends the connection between the
upper and lower world, and fulfills all religious exercises (Kewanoth)
with concentrated devotion and with due regard to their influence upon
the higher powers. Still more effectually the Messiah, the son of
David, will accomplish the annihilation of demoniacal powers and the
restoration of lost souls, or rather the collection of the scattered
elements of the universal soul of Adam. For to the Messiah, in whom
dwells a pure, immaculate soul, are unfolded the mysterious depths of
the higher worlds, essences, and divine creation, even the Divine Being
Himself. The Messiah of the seed of David would, to a certain extent,
be the original man (Adam Kadmon) incarnate, part of the Godhead.
This Luryan mysticism dazzled the bewildered brain of the Smyrna youth,
and produced such confusion and giddiness, that he thought he could
easily usher in this spiritual redemption, which would be immediately
followed by that of the body. In what manner this haughty wish to play
the part of a Messiah germinates and breaks forth in enthusiastic
minds, is an impenetrable riddle. Sabbataï Zevi was not the first
to believe himself able to reverse the whole order of the world, by
mystical hocus-pocus, and partly to succeed in the endeavor. Certain
it is that the extravagant notions entertained by Jews and Christians
with regard to the near approach of the time of grace worked upon
Sabbataï's weak brain. That book of falsehoods, the Zohar, declared
that in the year of the world 5408 (1648) the era of redemption would
dawn, and precisely in that year Sabbataï revealed himself to his
train of youthful companions as the Messianic redeemer. It happened
in an apparently insignificant manner, but the mode of revelation
was of great import to the initiated. Sabbataï Zevi uttered the full
four-lettered name of God in Hebrew (Jhwh, the Tetra-grammaton) without
hesitation, although this was strictly prohibited in the Talmud and
by the usage of ages. The Kabbalists attached all sorts of mystical
importance to this prohibition. During the dispersion of Israel, the
perfection of God Himself was to a certain extent destroyed, on account
of the sinfulness of men and the degradation of the Jewish people,
since the Deity could not carry out His moral plan. The higher and
lower worlds were divided from each other by a deep gulf; the four
letters of God's name were parted asunder. With the Messianic period
of redemption the moral order of the world, as God had laid it down in
the plan of the universe, and the perfection and unity of God would be
restored. When Sabbataï Zevi permitted himself to pronounce the name
of God in full, he thereby proclaimed that the time of grace had begun
with him.
However, despite his pious, mystical life, he had too little authority
at the age of two and twenty for the rabbis to allow an infraction of
the existing order of things, which might lead to further inroads.
When Zevi's pretensions became known some years later, the college of
rabbis, at their head his teacher Joseph Eskapha, laid him and his
followers under a ban. Many bickerings ensued in the community, the
particulars of which are not known. Finally he and his disciples were
banished from Smyrna (about 1651). The Messianic delusion appeared
to have been extinguished, but it smouldered on, and broke out
again, about fifteen years later, in a bright, consuming flame. This
persecution, far from terrifying Sabbataï Zevi, gave him a sense of
his dignity. The idea of a suffering Messiah had been transplanted from
Christianity to Judaism; it was the accepted view that humiliation was
the precursor of the Messiah's exaltation and glorification. Sabbataï
believed in himself, and his disciples, amongst them Moses Pinheiro,
a man of mature age, highly esteemed for scientific acquirements,
shared the belief with tenacity. If the Messiah had been obliged to beg
his way through the world, his illusion would not have long held its
ground. But Sabbataï was richly provided with means, he could maintain
his independence and his presumed dignity, and win adherents to his
cause. At first, however, he kept himself in concealment, did not say
much about his Messiahship, and thereby escaped ridicule. Whither he
betook himself after his banishment from his native city is not quite
certain; probably to the Turkish capital, where dwelt the largest
Jewish community, in which were so many clean and unclean elements,
that everyone could find companions for plans and adventures. Here he
made the acquaintance of a preacher, Abraham Yachini, who confirmed
him in his delusion. Yachini stood in high repute on account of his
talent as a preacher. He was a needy and artful fellow, and made
neat transcriptions for a Dutch Christian, who dabbled in Oriental
literature. From selfish motives or delight in mystification, and to
confirm Sabbataï Zevi in his delusion, Yachini palmed off upon him an
apocryphal manuscript in archaic characters, which he alleged bore
ancient testimony to Sabbataï's Messiahship.
"I, Abraham, was shut up for forty years in a cave, and
wondered that the time of miracles did not make its appearance.
Then a voice replied to me, 'A son shall be born in the year of
the world 5386 (1626), and be called Sabbataï. He shall quell
the great dragon: he is the true Messiah, and shall wage war
without weapons.'"
This document, which the young fanatic himself appears to have
taken for a genuine revelation, became later on the source of many
mystifications and impostures. However, it appeared inadvisable to
the dupe and the deceiver that he should appear in Constantinople.
Salonica, which had always paid homage to mysticism, seemed a more
suitable field for Kabbalistic extravagances. Here, therefore, Sabbataï
resided for some time, gained adherents, and came forward with greater
boldness. Here he enacted one of his favorite scenes, by which he
afterwards worked upon the imagination of the Kabbalists. He prepared a
solemn festival, invited his friends, sent for the sacred book (Torah),
and intimated to those present, that he was about to celebrate his
mystical marriage with it. In the language of the Kabbala this meant
that the Torah, the daughter of heaven, was to be united indissolubly
with the Messiah, the son of heaven, or En-Sof. This scene displeased
the discreet rabbis of Salonica, and they decreed his banishment.
Thence he betook himself to the Morea, probably to relatives and
friends of his father, and resided for some time at Athens, where
at that time there was a Jewish community. When the Jews of this
region heard of the sentence pronounced upon him, they gave him no
encouragement. This opposition, far from discouraging him, only served
to make him bolder; he probably regarded his sufferings as necessary
for the glorification of the Messiah.
At last, after long wandering, a prospect of realizing his dream
presented itself at Cairo. In the Egyptian capital there was a Jewish
mint-master and tax-farmer, with the title of Saraph-Bashi, similar
to the Alabarchs at Alexandria in earlier ages. At that time (after
1656) the office was held by Raphael Joseph Chelebi, of Aleppo, a
man of great wealth and open-handed benevolence, but of unspeakable
credulity, and ineradicable propensity to mysticism and asceticism.
Fifty learned Talmudists and Kabbalists were supported by him, and
dined at his table. Everyone who sought his compassion found help and
relief in his need. While riding in the royal chariot, and appearing
in splendid robes, he wore sackcloth underneath, fasted and bathed
much, and frequently at night scourged himself. Samuel Vital, a son of
Chayim Calabrese, superintended his constant penances according to the
Kabbalistic precepts of Lurya (Tikkun Lurya). These were intended, as
has been stated, to hasten the coming of the Messiah. To be in Cairo
and not to make Raphael Joseph's acquaintance was an inconceivable
course for a Kabbalist. Sabbataï Zevi thus came into his circle, and
won his confidence the sooner, as, owing to his independent position,
he did not desire anything of him. He appears to have partially
revealed his Messianic plans to Raphael. He had grown older, maturer,
and wiser, and knew how to make men amenable to his wishes. The
Apocalyptic year, 1666, was drawing near, and it was important to use
the auspicious moment.