In the place where I resided I had a bosom friend, Moses Lapidoth by name. We were of the same age, the same studies, and nearly the same external circumstances, the only difference being, that at an early period I already showed an inclination to the sciences, while Lapidoth had indeed a love of speculation, and also great acuteness and power of judgment, but had no wish to proceed further than he could reach by a mere sound common sense. With this friend I used to hold many a conversation on subjects of mutual interest, especially the questions of religion and morals.
We were the only persons in the place, who ventured to be not mere imitators, but to think independently about everything. It was a natural result of this, that, as we differed from all the rest of the community in our opinions and conduct, we separated ourselves from them by degrees; but, as we had still to live by the community, our circumstances on this account became every day worse and worse. 'Tis true, we noted this fact, but nevertheless we were unwilling to sacrifice our favouriteinclinations for any interest in the world. We consoled ourselves therefore, as best we might, over our loss, spoke constantly of the vanity of all things, of the religious and moral faults of the common herd, upon whom we looked down with a sort of noble pride and contempt.
We used especially to open our minds,à la Mandeville, on the hollowness of human virtue. For example, smallpox had been very prevalent in the place, and thereby many children had been carried off. The elders held a meeting to find out the secret sins, on account of which they were suffering this punishment, as they viewed it. After instituting an inquiry it was found, that a young widow of the Jewish people was holding too free intercourse with some servants of the manor. She was sent for, but no sort of inquisition could elicit from her anything beyond the fact, that these people were in the habit of drinking mead at her house, and that, as was reasonable, she received them in a pleasant and polite manner, but that in other respects she was unconscious of any sin in the matter. As no other evidence was forthcoming, she was about to be acquitted, when an elderly matron came flying like a fury and screamed, "Scourge her! scourge her! till she has confessed her sin! If you do not do it, then may the guilt of the death of so many innocent souls fall upon you!" Lapidoth was present with me at this scene, and said, "Friend, do you suppose that Madam is making so fierce a complaint against this woman, merely becauseshe is seized with a holy zeal and feeling for the general welfare? Oh no! She is enraged, merely because the widow still possesses attractions, while she herself can no longer make claim to any." I assured him that his opinion was thoroughly in accordance with my own.
Lapidoth had poor parents-in-law. His father-in-law was Jewish sexton, and by his slender pay could support his family only in a very sorry style. Every Friday the poor man was therefore compelled to listen to all sorts of reproach and abuse from his wife, because he could not provide her with what was indispensable for the holy Sabbath. Lapidoth told me about this with the addition:—"My mother-in-law wants to make me to believe that she is zealous merely for the honour of the holy Sabbath. Nay, verily; she is zealous merely for the honour of her own holy paunch, which she cannot fill as she would like; the holy Sabbath serves her merely as a pretext."
Once when we were taking a walk on the wall round the town, and conversing about the tendency of men, which is evinced in such expressions, to deceive themselves and others, I said to Lapidoth, "Friend, let us be fair, and pass our censure on ourselves, as well as on others. Is not the contemplative life which we lead, and which is by no means adapted to our circumstances, to be regarded as a result of our indolence and inclination to idleness, which we seek to defend by reflections on the vanity of all things? We are content with our presentcircumstances; why? Because we cannot alter them without first fighting against our inclination to idleness. With all our pretence of contempt for everything outside of us, we cannot avoid the secret wish to be able to enjoy better food and clothing than at present. We reproach our friends as vain men addicted to the pleasures of sense, because they have abandoned our mode of life, and undertaken occupations adapted to their powers. But wherein consists our superiority over them, when we merely follow our inclination as they follow theirs? Let us seek to find this superiority merely in the fact, that we at least confess this truth to ourselves, while they profess as the motive of their actions, not the satisfaction of their own particular desires, but the impulse to general utility." Lapidoth, on whom my words produced a powerful impression, answered with some warmth, "Friend, you are perfectly right. If we cannot now mend our faults, we will not deceive ourselves about them, but at least keep the way open for amendment."
In conversations of this kind we two cynics spent our pleasantest hours, while we made ourselves merry sometimes at the expense of the world, sometimes at our own. Lapidoth, for example, whose old dirty clothes had all fallen into rags, and one of whose sleeves was wholly parted from the rest of his coat, while he was not in a position even to have it mended, used to fix the sleeve on his back with a pin, and to ask me, "Don't I look like aSchlachziz(a Polish noble)?" I, again, could notsufficiently commend my rent shoes, which were quite open at the toes, because, as I said, "They do not squeeze the foot."
The harmony of our inclinations and manner of life, along with some difference in our talents, made our conversation all the more agreeable. I had more talent for the sciences, made more earnest endeavours after thoroughness and accuracy of knowledge than Lapidoth. He, on the other hand, had the advantage of a lively imagination, and consequently more talent for eloquence and poetry than I. If I produced a new thought, my friend knew how to illustrate it, and, as it were, to give it embodiment in a multitude of examples. Our affection for one another went so far, that, whenever it was practicable, we spent day and night in each other's company, and the first thing we did, on returning home from the places where we severally acted as family-tutors, was to visit each other, even before seeing our own families. At last we began to neglect on this account the usual hours of prayer. Lapidoth first undertook to prove, that the Talmudists themselves offered up their prayers, not exclusively in the synagogue, but sometimes in their study-chambers. Afterwards he pointed out also, that the prayers held to be necessary are not all equally so, but that some may be dispensed with altogether: even those, which are recognised as necessary, we curtailed by degrees, till at last they were totally neglected.
Once, when we went for a walk on the wall during thehour of prayer, Lapidoth said to me, "Friend, what is going to become of us? We do not pray now at all."
"What do you mean by that?" I inquired.
"I throw myself," said Lapidoth, "on the mercy of God, who certainly will not punish his children severely for a slight neglect."
"God is not merelymerciful," I replied; "He is alsojust. Consequently this reason cannot help us much."
"What do you mean by that?" asked Lapidoth.
I had by this time obtained from Maimonides more accurate ideas of God and of our duties towards Him. Accordingly I replied, "Our destination is merely theattainment of perfection through the knowledge of God and the imitation of His actions. Prayer is simply the expression of our knowledge of the divine perfections, and, as a result of this knowledge, is intended merely for the common man who cannot of himself attain to this knowledge; and therefore it is adapted to his mode of conception. But as we see into the end of prayer, and can attain to this end directly, we can dispense altogether with prayer as something superfluous."
This reasoning appeared to us both to be sound. We resolved therefore, for the purpose of avoiding offence, to go out of the house every morning with ourTalethandTephilim(Jewish instruments of prayer), not, however, to the synagogue, but to our favourite retreat, the wall, and by this means we fortunately escaped the Jewish Inquisition.
But this enthusiastic companionship, like everything else in the world, had to come to an end. As we were both married, and our marriages were tolerably fruitful, we were obliged, for the purpose of supporting our families, to accept situations as family-tutors. By this means we were not infrequently separated, and afterwards were able to spend merely a few weeks in the year together.
The place, where I first occupied the position of family-tutor, was at the distance of a league from my residence. The family was that of a miserable farmer in a still more miserable village; and my salary was five thalers in Polish money. The poverty, ignorance, and rudeness in the manner of life, which prevailed in this house, were indescribable. The farmer himself was a man of about fifty years, the whole of whose face was overgrown with hair, ending in a dirty, thick beard as black as pitch. His language was a sort of muttering, intelligible only to the boors, with whom he held intercourse daily. Not only was he ignorant of Hebrew, but he could not speak a word of Jewish; his only language was Russian, the common patois of the peasantry. His wife and children were of the same stamp. Moreover, the apartment, in which they lived, was a hovel of smoke, black as coal inside and out, without a chimney, but with merely a small opening in the roof for the exit oi the smoke,—an opening which was carefully closed as soon as the fire was allowed to go out, so that the heat might not escape.
The windows were narrow strips of pine laid crosswise over each other, and covered with paper. This apartment served at once for sitting, drinking, eating, study and sleep. Think of this room intensely heated, and the smoke, as is generally the case in winter, driven back by wind and rain till the whole place is filled with it to suffocation. Here hang a foul washing and other dirty bits of clothing on poles laid across the room in order to kill the vermin with the smoke. There hang sausages to dry, while their fat keeps constantly trickling down on the heads of people below. Yonder stand tubs with sour cabbage and red beets, which form the principal food of the Lithuanians. In a corner the water is kept for daily use, with the dirty water alongside. In this room the bread is kneaded, cooking and baking are done, the cow is milked, and all sorts of operations are carried on.
In this magnificent dwelling the peasants sit on the bare ground; you dare not sit higher if you do not wish to be suffocated with the smoke. Here they guzzle their whiskey and make an uproar, while the people of the house sit in a corner. I usually took my place behind the stove with my dirty half-naked pupils, and expounded to them out of an old tattered Bible, from Hebrew into Russian Jewish. All this together made such a splendid group as deserved to be sketched only by a Hogarth, and to be sung only by a Butler.
It may be easily imagined, how pitiable my condition here must have been. Whiskey had to form my sole comfort;it made me forget all my misery. This was increased by the fact, that a regiment of Russians, who were rioting at that time with every conceivable cruelty on the estates of Prince Radzivil, was stationed in the village and its neighbourhood. The house was constantly full of drunken Russians, who committed all sorts of excesses, hewed to pieces tables and benches, threw glasses and bottles into the faces of the people of the house, and so on. To give merely one example, a Russian, who was stationed in this house as guard, and whose charge it was to secure the house against all violence, came home once drunk, and demanded something to eat. A dish of millet with butter was placed before him cooked. He shoved the dish away, and shouted an order for more butter. A whole small tub of butter was brought, when he shouted again an order for another dish. This was brought immediately, whereupon he threw all the butter into it, and called for spirits. A whole bottle was brought, and he poured it likewise into the dish. Thereafter milk, pepper, salt, and tobacco, in large quantities had to be brought to him, the whole being put in, and the mixture devoured. After he had taken some spoonfuls, he began to strike about him, pulled the host by the beard, struck him in the face with his fist, so that the blood flowed out of his mouth, poured some of his glorious broth down his throat, and went on in this riotous manner till he became so drunk that he could no longer support himself, and fell to the ground.
Such scenes were at that time very common everywhere in Poland. If a Russian army passed a place, they took with them aprowodnik, or guide, to the next place. But instead of seeking to be supplied by the mayor or the village magistrate, they used to seize the first person whom they met on the road. He might be young or old, male or female, healthy or sick, it mattered nothing to them; for they knew the road well enough from special charts, and only sought an opportunity for outrage. If it happened that the person seized did not know the way at all, and did not show them the right road, they did not allow themselves to be sent astray on this account; they selected the road all right, but they cudgelled the poor prowodnik till he was half-dead,for not knowing the way!
I was once seized as a prowodnik myself. I did not indeed know the way, but luckily I hit upon it by chance. Fortunately, therefore, I reached the proper place, and the only violence I suffered, besides a good many blows and kicks from the Russian soldiers, was the threat, that, if ever I led them astray, I should certainly be flayed alive—a threat which they might be trusted with carrying into execution.
The other places which I filled as tutor were more or less similar to this. In one of these a remarkable psychological incident occurred in which I took the principal part and which is to be described in the sequel. An incident of the same kind, however, which happenedto another person and of which I was simply eye-witness, must be mentioned here.
A tutor in the next village, who was a somnambulist, rose one night from his bed and went to the village churchyard with a volume of the Jewish ceremonial laws in his hand. After remaining some time there he returned to his bed. In the morning he rose up, without remembering the least of what had happened during the night, and went to the chest where his copy of the ceremonial laws was usually kept, in order to take out the first part,Orach Chajimor the Way of Life, which he was accustomed to read every morning. The code consists of four parts, each of which was bound separately, and all the four had certainly been locked up in the chest. He was therefore astonished to find only three of the parts,Joreh Deahor the Teacher of Wisdom, being awanting. As he knew about his disease he searched everywhere, till at last he came to the churchyard where he found theJoreh Deahlying open at the chapter,Hilchoth Abhelothor the Laws of Mourning. He took this for a bad omen and came home much disquieted. On being asked the cause of his disquietude he related the incident which had occurred, with the addition, "Ah! God knows how my poor mother is!" He begged of his master the loan of a horse and permission to ride to the nearest town, where his mother lived, in order to enquire after her welfare. As he had to pass the place where I was tutor, and I saw him ridingin great excitement without being willing to dismount even for a little while, I asked him the cause of his excitement when he related to me the above-mentioned incident.
I was astonished, not so much about the particular circumstances of this incident, as about somnambulism in general, of which till then I had known nothing. My friend, on the other hand, assured me that somnambulism was a common occurrence with him, and that it meant nothing, but that the circumstance of theHilchoth Abhelothmade him forebode some misfortune. Thereupon he rode off, arrived at his mother's house, and found her seated at her frame for needlework. She asked him the reason of his coming, when he replied that he had come merely to pay her a visit, as he had not seen her for a long time. After he had rested for a good while, he rode back; but his disquietude was by no means wholly removed, and the thought of theHilchoth Abhelothhe could not get out of his head. The third day after, a fire broke out in the town where his mother lived, and the poor woman perished in the flames. Scarcely had the son heard of the conflagration, when he began to lament that his mother had so miserably perished. He rode off in all haste to the town, and found what he had foreboded.
About this time I became acquainted with a sect of my nation, called theNew Chasidim, which was then coming into prominence.Chasidimis the name generally given by the Hebrews to thepious, that is, to those who distinguish themselves by exercising the strictest piety. These were, from time immemorial, men who had freed themselves from worldly occupations and pleasures, and devoted their lives to the strictest exercise of the laws of religion and penance for their sins. As already mentioned, they sought to accomplish this object by prayers and other exercises of devotion, by chastisement of the body and similar means.
But about this time some among them set themselves up for founders of a new sect. They maintained that true piety does not by any means consist in chastisement of the body, by which the spiritual quiet and cheerfulness, necessary to the knowledge and love of God, are disturbed. On the contrary, they maintained that man must satisfy all his bodily wants, and seek to enjoy the pleasures of sense, so far as may be necessary for the developmentof our feelings, inasmuch as God has created all for his glory. The true service of God, according to them, consists in exercises of devotion with exertion of all our powers, and annihilation of self before God; for they maintain that man, in accordance with his destination, can reach the highest perfection only when he regards himself, not as a being that exists and works for himself, but merely as an organ of the Godhead. Instead therefore of spending their lives in separation from the world, in suppression of their natural feelings, and in deadening their powers, they believed that they acted much more to the purpose, when they sought to develop their natural feelings as much as possible, to bring their powers into exercise, and constantly to widen their sphere of work.
It must be acknowledged, that both of these opposite methods have something true for a foundation. Of the former the foundation is obviously Stoicism, that is, an endeavour to determine actions by free will in accordance with a higher principle than passion; the latter is founded on the system of perfection. Only both, like everything else in the world, may be abused, and are abused in actual life. Those of the first sect drive their penitential disposition to extravagance; instead of merely regulating their desires and passions by rules of moderation, they seek to annihilate them; and, instead of endeavouring, like the Stoics, to find the principle of their actions in pure reason, they seek it rather in religion. This is apure source, it is true; but as these people have false ideas of religion itself, and their virtue has for its foundation merely the future rewards and punishments of an arbitrary tyrannical being who governs by mere caprice, in point of fact their actions flow from an impure source, namely the principle of interest. Moreover, in their case this interest rests merely on fancies, so that, in this respect, they are far below the grossest Epicureans, who have, it is true, a low, but still a real interest as the end of their actions. Only then can religion yield a principle of virtue, when it is itself founded on the idea of virtue.
The adherents of the second sect have indeed more correct ideas of religion and morals; but since in this respect they regulate themselves for the most part in accordance with obscure feelings, and not in accordance with distinct knowledge, they likewise necessarily fall into all sorts of extravagances. Self-annihilation of necessity cramps their activity, or gives it a false direction. They have no natural science, no acquaintance with psychology; and they are vain enough to consider themselves organs of the Godhead,—which of course they are, to an extent limited by the degree of perfection they attain. The result is, that on the credit of the Godhead they perpetrate the greatest excesses; every extraordinary suggestion is to them a divine inspiration, and every lively impulse a divine call.
These sects were not in fact different sects of religion; their difference consisted merely in the mode of theirreligious exercises. But still their animosity went so far, that they decried each other as heretics, and indulged in mutual persecution. At first the new sect held the upper hand, and extended itself nearly over the whole of Poland, and even beyond. The heads of the sect ordinarily sent emissaries everywhere, whose duty it was to preach the new doctrine and procure adherents. Now, the majority of the Polish Jews consist of scholars, that is, men devoted to an inactive and contemplative life; for every Polish Jew is destined from his birth to be a rabbi, and only the greatest incapacity can exclude him from the office. Moreover, this new doctrine was to make the way to blessedness easier, inasmuch as it declared that fasts and vigils and the constant study of the Talmud are not only useless, but even prejudicial to that cheerfulness of spirit which is essential to genuine piety. It was therefore natural that the adherents of the doctrine spread far and wide in a short time.
Pilgrimages were made to K. M. and other holy places, where the enlightened superiors of this sect abode. Young people forsook parents, wives and children, and went in troops to visit these superiors, and hear from their lips the new doctrine. The occasion, which led to the rise of this sect was the following.[43]
I have already remarked that, since the time when the Jews lost their national position and were dispersed among other nations where they are more or less tolerated, they have had no internal form of government but their religious constitution, by which they are held together and still form, in spite of their political dispersion, an organic whole. Their leaders, therefore, have allowed themselves to be occupied with nothing so much as with imparting additional strength to this, the only bond of union by which the Jews still constitute a nation. But the doctrines of their faith and the laws of their religion take their origin in the Holy Scriptures, while these leave much that is indefinite in regard to their exposition and application to particular cases. Consequently the aid of tradition is of necessity called in, and by this means the method of expounding the Holy Scriptures, as well as the deduction of cases left undetermined by them, is made to appear as if specified in determinate laws. This tradition could not of course be entrusted to the whole nation, but merely to a particular body—a sort of legislative commission.
By this means, however, the evil was not avoided. Tradition itself left much that was still indeterminate. The deduction of particular cases from the general, and the new laws demanded by the circumstances of different times, gave occasion for many controversies; but through these very controversies and the mode of their settlement, this body became always more numerous, and itsinfluence on the nation more powerful. The Jewish constitution is therefore in its form aristocratic, and is accordingly exposed to all the abuses of an aristocracy. The unlearned classes of the people, being burdened with the care of supporting not only themselves but also the indispensable learned class, were unable to give their attention to abuses of the kind. But from time to time men have arisen out of the legislative body itself, who have not only denounced its abuses, but have even called in question its authority.
Of this sort was the founder of the Christian religion, who at the very outset placed himself in opposition to the tyranny of this aristocracy, and brought back the whole ceremonial law to its origin, namely, a pure moral system, to which the ceremonial law stands related as means to end. In this way the reformation at least of a part of the nation was accomplished. Of the same sort also was the notorious Shabbethai Zebi, who, at the close of last century[44]set himself up as Messiah, and was going to abolish the whole ceremonial law, especially the rabbinical institutions. A moral system founded upon reason would, owing to the deeply rooted prejudices of the nation at that time, have been powerless to work out a wholesome reformation. To their prejudices and fanaticism therefore it was necessary tooppose prejudices and fanaticism. This was done in the following way.
A secret society, whose founders belonged to the disaffected spirits of the nation, had already taken root in it for a long time. A certain French rabbi, named Moses de Leon, is said, according to Rabbi Joseph Candia, to have composed theZohar, and to have foisted it upon the nation as an old book having for its author the celebrated Talmudist, Rabbi ben Jochai. This book contains, as stated above, an exposition of the Holy Scriptures in accordance with the principles of the Cabbalah; or rather, it contains these principles themselves delivered in the form of an exposition of the Holy Scriptures, and drawn, as it were, from these. It has, like Janus, a double face, and admits, therefore, of a double interpretation.
The one is that which is given with great diffuseness in Cabbalistic writings, and has been brought into a system. Here is a wide field for the imagination, where it can revel at will without being in the end better instructed on the matter than before. Here are delivered, in figurative language, many moral and physical truths, which lose themselves at last in the labyrinth of the hyperphysical. This method of treating the Cabbalah is peculiar to Cabbalistic scholars, and constitutes the lesser mysteries of this secret society.
The second method, on the other hand, concerns the secret political meaning of the Cabbalah, and is knownonly to the superiors of the secret society. These superiors themselves, as well as their operations, remain ever unknown; the rest of the society you may become acquainted with, if you choose. But the lattercannotbetray political secrets which are unknown to themselves, while the formerwill notdo it, because it is against their interest. Only the lesser (purely literary) mysteries are entrusted to the people, and urged upon them as matters of the highest importance. The greater (political) mysteries are not taught, but, as a matter of course, are brought into practice.
A certain Cabbalist, Rabbi Joel Baalshem[45]by name, became very celebrated at this time on account of some lucky cures which he effected by means of his medical acquirements and his conjuring tricks, as he gave out that all this was done, not by natural means, but solely by help of theCabbalah Maasith(the practical Cabbalah), and the use of sacred names. In this way he played a very successful game in Poland. He also took care to have followers in his art. Among his disciples were some, who took hold of his profession, and made themselves a name by successful cures and the detection of robberies. With their cures the process was quite natural.They employed the common means of medicine, but after the usual method of the conjurer they sought to turn the attention of the spectator from these, and direct it to their Cabbalistic hocus-pocus. The robberies they either brought about themselves, or they discovered them by means of their detectives, who were spread all over the country.
Others of greater genius and a nobler mode of thinking, formed far grander plans. They saw that their private interest, as well as the general interest, could be best promoted by gaining the people's confidence, and this they sought to command by enlightenment. Their plan was therefore moral and political at the same time.[46]At first it appeared as if they would merely do away with the abuses which had crept into the Jewish system of religion and morals; but this drew after it of necessity a complete abrogation of the whole system. The principal points which they attacked were these:—
1. The abuse of rabbinical learning. Instead of simplifying the laws and rendering them capable of being known by all, the learning of the rabbis leaves them still more confused and indefinite. Moreover, being occupied only with the study of the laws, it gives as muchattention to those which are no longer of any application, such as the laws of sacrifice, of purification, etc., as to those which are still in use. Besides, it is not the study, but the observance of the laws, that forms the chief concern, since the study of them is not an end in itself, but merely a means to their observance. And, finally, in the observance of the laws the rabbis have regard merely to the external ceremony, not to the moral end.
2. The abuse of piety on the part of the so-called penitents. These become very zealous, it is true, about the practice of virtue. Their motive to virtue, however, is not that knowledge of God and His perfection, which is based on reason; it consists rather in false representations of God and His attributes. They failed therefore of necessity to find true virtue, and hit upon a spurious imitation. Instead of aspiring after likeness to God, and striving to escape from the bondage of sensual passions into the dominion of a free will that finds its motive in reason, they sought to annihilate their passions by annihilating their powers of activity, as I have already shown by some deplorable examples.
On the other hand, those who sought to enlighten the people required, as an indispensable condition of true virtue, a cheerful state of mind disposed to every form of active exertion; and they not only allowed, but even recommended, a moderate enjoyment of all kinds of pleasure as necessary for the attainment of this cheerful disposition. Their worship consisted in a voluntaryelevation above the body, that is, in an abstraction of the thoughts from all created things, even from the individual self, and in union with God. By this means a kind of self-denial arose among them, which led them to ascribe, not to themselves, but to God alone, all the actions undertaken in this state. Their worship therefore consisted in a sort of speculative adoration, for which they held no special time or formula to be necessary, but they left each one to determine it according to the degree of his knowledge. Still they chose for it most commonly the hours set apart for the public worship of God. In their public worship they endeavoured mainly to attain that elevation above the body, which has been described; they became so absorbed in the idea of the divine perfection, that they lost the idea of everything else, even of their own body, and, as they gave out, the body became in this state wholly devoid of feeling.
Such abstraction, however, was a very difficult matter; and accordingly, whenever they came out of this state by new suggestions taking possession of their minds, they laboured, by all sorts ofmechanical operations, such as movements and cries, to bring themselves back into the state once more, and to keep themselves in it without interruption during the whole time of their worship. It was amusing to observe how they often interrupted their prayers by all sorts of extraordinary tones and comical gestures, which were meant as threats and reproaches against their adversary, the Evil Spirit, who tried to disturbtheir devotion; and how by this means they wore themselves out to such an extent, that, on finishing their prayers, they commonly fell down in complete exhaustion.
It is not to be denied that, however sound may be the basis of such a worship, it is subject to abuse just as much as the other. The internal activity following upon cheerfulness of mind, must depend on the degree of knowledge acquired. Self-annihilation before God is only then well-founded, when a man's faculty of knowledge, owing to the grandeur of its object, is so entirely occupied with that object, that he exists, as it were, out of himself, in the object alone. If, on the contrary, the faculty of knowledge is limited in respect of its object, so that it is incapable of any steady progress, then the activity mentioned, by being concentrated on this single object, is repressed rather than stimulated. Some simple men of this sect, who sauntered about idly the whole day with pipe in mouth, when asked, what they were thinking about all the time, replied, "We are thinking about God." This answer would have been satisfactory, if they had constantly sought, by an adequate knowledge of nature, to extend their knowledge of the divine perfections. But this was impossible in their case, as their knowledge of nature was extremely limited; and consequently the condition, in which they concentrated their activity upon an object which, in respect of their capacity, was unfruitful, became of necessity unnatural. Moreover, theiractions could be ascribed to God, only when they were the results of an accurate knowledge of God; but when they resulted from a very limited degree of this knowledge, it was inevitable that all sorts of excesses should be committed on the credit of God, as unfortunately the issue has shown.
But the fact that this sect spread so rapidly, and that the new doctrine met with so much applause among the majority of the nation, may be very easily explained. The natural inclination to idleness and a life of speculation on the part of the majority, who from birth are destined to study, the dryness and unfruitfulness of rabbinical studies, and the great burden of the ceremonial law, which the new doctrine promised to lighten, finally the tendency to fanaticism and the love of the marvellous, which are nourished by this doctrine,—these are sufficient to make this phenomenon intelligible.
At first the rabbis and the pietists opposed the spread of this sect in the old fashion; but in spite of this, for the reasons just mentioned, it maintained the upper hand. Hostilities were practised on both sides. Each party sought to gain adherents. A ferment arose in the nation, and opinions were divided.
I could not form any accurate idea of the new sect, and did not know what to think of it, till I met with a young man, who had already been initiated into the society, and had enjoyed the good fortune of conversing with its superiors. This man happened to be travellingthrough the place of my abode, and I seized the opportunity of asking for some information about the internal constitution of the society, the mode of admission, and so forth. The stranger was still in the lowest grade of membership, and consequently knew nothing about the internal constitution of the society. He was therefore unable to give me any information on the subject; but, as far as the mode of admission was concerned, he assured me that that was the simplest thing in the world. Any man, who felt a desire of perfection, but did not know how to satisfy it, or wished to remove the hindrances to its satisfaction, had nothing to do but apply to the superiors of the society, andeo ipsohe became a member. He did not even require, as you must do on applying to a medical doctor, to say anything to these superiors about his moral weakness, his previous life, and matters of that sort, inasmuch as nothing was unknown to the superiors, they could see into the human heart, and discern everything that is concealed in its secret recesses, they could foretell the future, and bring near at hand things that are remote. Their sermons and moral teachings were not, as these things commonly are, thought over and arranged in an orderly manner beforehand. This method is proper only to the man, who regards himself as a being existing and working for himself apart from God. But the superiors of this sect hold that their teachings are divine and therefore infallible, only when they are the result of self-annihilation before God, thatis, when they are suggested to themex tempore, by the exigence of circumstances, without their contributing anything themselves.
As I was quite captivated by this description I begged the stranger to communicate to me some of these divine teachings. He clapped his hand on his brow as if he were waiting for inspiration from the Holy Ghost, and turned to me with a solemn mien and his arms half-bared, which he brought into action somewhat like Corporal Trim, when he was reading the sermon. Then he began as follows:—
"'Sing unto God a new song; His praise is in the congregation of saints' (Psalm cxlix., 1). Our superiors explain this verse in the following way. The attributes of God as the most perfect being must surpass by far the attributes of every finite being; and consequently His praise, as the expression of His attributes, must likewise surpass the praise of any such being. Till the present time the praise of God consisted in ascribing to Him supernatural operations, such as the discovery of what is concealed, the foreseeing of the future, and the production of effects immediately by His mere will. Now, however, the saints, that is, the superiors, are able to perform such supernatural actions themselves. Accordingly in this respect God has no longer preeminence over them; and it is therefore necessary to find some new praise, which is proper to God alone."
Quite charmed with this ingenious method of interpretingthe Holy Scriptures, I begged the stranger for some more expositions of the same kind. He proceeded therefore in his inspired manner:—"'When the minstrel played, the spirit of God came upon him' (2 Kings iii. 15). This is explained in the following way. As long as a man is self-active, he is incapable of receiving the influence of the Holy Ghost; for this purpose he must hold himself like an instrument in a purely passive state. The meaning of the passage is therefore this. When the minstrel (הַמְנַגֵּן, the servant of God), becomes like his instrument (כְּנַגֵּן), then the spirit of God comes upon him."[47]
"Now," said the stranger again, "hear the interpretation of a passage from the Mishnah, where it is said, 'The honour of thy neighbour shall be as dear to thee as thine own.' Our teachers explain this in the following way. It is certain that no man will find pleasure in doing honour to himself: this would be altogether ridiculous. But it would be just as ridiculous to make too much of the marks of honour received from another, as these confer on us no more intrinsic worth than we have already.This passage therefore means merely, that the honour of thy neighbour (the honour which thy neighbour shows to thee) must be of as little value in thine eyes, as thine own (the honour which thou showest to thyself)."
I could not help being astonished at the exquisite refinement of these thoughts; and charmed with the ingenious exegesis, by which they were supported.[48]My imagination was strained to the highest pitch by these descriptions, and consequently I wished nothing so much as the pleasure of becoming a member of this honourable society. I resolved therefore to undertake a journey to M——, where the superior B—— resided. I waited with the greatest impatience for the close of my period of service, which lasted still for some weeks. As soon as this came to an end, instead of going home (though I was only two miles away), I started at once on my pilgrimage. The journey extended over some weeks.
At last I arrived at M——, and after having rested from my journey I went to the house of the superior under the idea that I could be introduced to him at once. I was told, however, that he could not speak to me at the time, but that I was invited to his table onSabbath along with the other strangers who had come to visit him; that I should then have the happiness of seeing the saintly man face to face, and of hearing the sublimest teachings out of his own mouth; that although this was a public audience, yet, on account of the individual references which I should find made to myself, I might regard it as a special interview.
Accordingly on Sabbath I went to this solemn meal, and found there a large number of respectable men who had met here from various quarters. At length the great man appeared in his awe-inspiring form, clothed in white satin. Even his shoes and snuffbox were white, this being among the Cabbalists the colour of grace. He gave to every new comer his salaam, that is, his greeting. We sat down to table and during the meal a solemn silence reigned. After the meal was over, the superior struck up a solemn inspiriting melody, held his hand for some time upon his brow, and then began to call out, "Z—— of H——, M—— of R——," and so on. Every new comer was thus called by his own name and the name of his residence, which excited no little astonishment. Each recited, as he was called, some verse of the Holy Scriptures. Thereupon the superior began to deliver a sermon for which the verses recited served as a text, so that although they were disconnected verses taken from different parts of the Holy Scriptures they were combined with as much skill as if they had formed a single whole. What was still more extraordinary,every one of the new comers believed that he discovered, in that part of the sermon which was founded on his verse, something that had special reference to the facts of his own spiritual life. At this we were of course greatly astonished.
It was not long, however, before I began to qualify the high opinion I had formed of this superior and the whole society. I observed that their ingenious exegesis was at bottom false, and, in addition to that, was limited strictly to their own extravagant principles, such as the doctrine of self-annihilation. When a man had once learned these, there was nothing new for him to bear. The so-called miracles could be very naturally explained. By means of correspondence and spies and a certain knowledge of men, by physiognomy and skilful questions, the superiors were able to elicit indirectly the secrets of the heart, so that they succeeded with these simple men in obtaining the reputation of being inspired prophets.
The whole society also displeased me not a little by their cynical spirit and the excess of their merriment. A single example of this may suffice. We had met once at the hour of prayer in the house of the superior. One of the company arrived somewhat late, when the others asked him the reason. He replied that he had been detained by his wife having been that evening confined with a daughter. As soon as they heard this, they began to congratulate him in a somewhat uproarious fashion. The superior thereupon came out of his study and askedthe cause of the noise. He was told that we were congratulating our friend, because his wife had brought a girl into the world. "A girl!" he answered with the greatest indignation, "he ought to be whipped."[49]The poor fellow protested. He could not comprehend why he should be made to suffer for his wife having brought a girl into the world. But this was of no avail: he was seized, thrown down on the floor, and whipped unmercifully. All except the victim fell into an hilarious mood over the affair, upon which the superior called them to prayer in the following words, "Now, brethren,serve the Lord with gladness!"
I would not stay in the place any longer. I sought the superior's blessing, took my departure from the society with the resolution to abandon it for ever, and returned home.
Now I shall say something of the internal constitution of the society. The superiors may, according to my experience, be brought under four heads: (1) the prudent, (2) the crafty, (3) the powerful,[50](4) the good.
The highest class, which rules all the others, is of course the first. These are men of enlightenment, who have attained a deep knowledge of the weaknesses of men and the motives of their actions, and have early learned the truth that prudence is better than power, inasmuch as power is in part dependent on prudence, while prudence is independent of power. A man may have as many powers and in as high a degree as he will, still his influence is always limited. By prudence, however, and a sort of psychological mechanics, that is, an insight into the best possible use of these powers and their direction, they may be infinitely strengthened. These prudent leaders, therefore, have devoted themselves to the art of ruling free men, that is, of using the will and powers of other men, so that while these believe themselves to be advancing merely their own ends, they are in reality advancing the ends of their leaders. This can be maintained by a judicious combination and regulation of the powers, so that by the slightest touch upon this instrument it may produce the greatest effect. There is here no deceit, for, as presupposed, the others themselves reach their own ends by this means best.
The second class, the crafty, also use the will and the powers of others for the attainment of their ends; but in regard to these ends they are more short-sighted or more impetuous than the former class. It often happens, therefore, that they seek to attain their ends at the expense of others; and their skill consists not merely in attaining their own ends, like the first class, but in carefully concealing from others the fact that they have not reached theirs.
The powerful are men who, by their inborn or acquired moral force, rule over the weakness of others, especially when their force is such as is seldom found in others, as, for example, the control of all the passions but one, which is made the end of their actions.
The good are weak men who are merely passive in respect of their knowledge and power of will, and whose ends are reached, not by controlling, but by allowing themselves to be controlled.
The highest class, that of the prudent, supervising all the others without being under their supervision, as a matter of course rules them all. It makes use of the crafty on their good side, and seeks to make them harmless on their other side by outwitting them, so that when they believe they are deceiving, they themselves are deceived. It makes use, moreover, of the powerful for the attainment of more important ends, but seeks, when necessary, to keep them in check by the opposition of several, it may be weaker, powers. Finally it makes useof the good for the attainment of its ends, not merely with them but also with others, inasmuch as it commends these weak brethren to the others as an example of submission that is worthy of imitation, and by this means clears out of the way those hindrances that arise from the independent activity of the others.
This highest class begins usually with Stoicism, and ends with Epicureanism. Its members consist of pious men of the first sort, that is, such as have for a considerable time devoted themselves to the strictest exercise of religious and moral laws, to the control of their desires and passions. But they do not, like the Stoic, look upon Stoicism as an end in itself; they regard it merely as a means to the highest end of man, namely, happiness. They do not therefore remain at the Stoical stage, but, after having obtained from it all that is necessary to the highest end, they hasten to that end itself, the enjoyment of happiness. By their exercise in the strictest Stoicism their sensibility for all sorts of pleasure is heightened and ennobled, instead of becoming duller, as it is with gross Epicureans. By means of this exercise also they are placed in a position to defer every pleasure that presents itself till they have determined its real worth, which a gross Epicurean will not do.
The first impulse to Stoicism, however, must lie in the temperament, and it is only by a kind of self-deception that it is shifted to the account of voluntary activity. But this vanity imparts courage for actual undertakingsof a voluntary nature, and this courage is continually fired by their successful issue. As the superiors of this sect are not men of science, it is not to be supposed that they have hit upon their system by the guidance of reason alone. Rather, as already said, the motive was, in the first instance, temperament, in the second, religious ideas; and it was only after that, that they could attain to a clear knowledge and practice of their system in its purity.
This sect was therefore, in regard to its end and its means, a sort of secret society, which had nearly acquired dominion over the whole nation; and consequently one of the greatest revolutions was to have been expected, if the excesses of some of its members had not laid bare many weak spots, and thus put weapons into the hands of its enemies. Some among them, who wished to pass for genuine Cynics, violated all the laws of decency, wandered about naked in the public streets, attended to the wants of nature in the presence of others, and so on. By their practice of extemporising, as a consequence of their principle of self-annihilation, they introduced into their sermons all sorts of foolish, unintelligible, confused stuff. By this means some of them became insane, and believed that in fact they were no longer in existence. To all this must be added their pride and contempt of others who did not belong to their sect, especially of the rabbis, who, though they had their faults, were still far more active and useful than these ignorant idlers. Men beganto find out their weaknesses, to disturb their meetings, and to persecute them everywhere. This was brought about especially by the authority of a celebrated rabbi, Elias of Wilna,[51]who stood in great esteem among the Jews, so that now scarcely any traces of the society can be found scattered here and there.
After the account of the secret society in the last chapter, this seems the most appropriate place to state, for the examination of the thoughtful reader, my opinion aboutmysteries in general, and about themysteries of religionin particular.
Mysteries in generalare modes of the causal relation between objects in nature,—modes which are real or held to be real, but which cannot be disclosed to every man by the natural use of his powers of knowledge.Eternal truths, that is, those necessary relations of objects which are founded on the nature of our powers of knowledge, however few may be familiar with them, are not, according to this definition, mysteries, because any one can discover them by the use of his powers of knowledge.
On the other hand, the results ofsympathyandantipathy, the medicalspecifics, and similar effects, which some men fall upon by mere accident, and which they afterwards find confirmed by means of observations and experiments, are genuinemysteries of nature, which can be made known to another person, not by the use of hispowers of knowledge, but only either by an accident of the same kind, or by communication from the first discoverer. If mysteries of this sort are not confirmed by observation and experiment, the belief in their reality is calledsuperstition.
Religionis a covenant formed between man and another moral being of a higher genus. It presupposes a natural relation between man and this higher moral being, so that, by the mutual fulfilment of their covenant, they advance the interest of each other. If this natural relation (not being merely arbitrary and conventional) is real, and the mutual obligation of the contracting persons is founded on this relation, then it forms atrue, but otherwise afalse, natural religion. If the mutual obligation between man and the higher being or his representatives is drawn up in a formal code, there arises apositiveorrevealed religion.
The true religion, natural as well as revealed, which, as already observed, constitutes Judaism, consists in a contract, at first merely understood, but afterwards expressed, between man and the Supreme Being, who revealed Himself to the patriarchs in person (in dreams and prophetic appearances), and made known by them His will, the reward of obeying it and the punishment of disobedience, regarding which a covenant was then with mutual consent concluded. Subsequently, through his representative Moses, He renewed His covenant with the Israelites in Egypt, determining more precisely theirmutual obligations; and this was afterwards on both sides formally confirmed on Mount Sinai.
To the thoughtful reader I do not need to say, that the representation of a covenant between God and man is to be taken merelyanalogically, and not in its strict sense. The absolutely Perfect Being can reveal Himself merelyas idea to the reason. What revealed itself to the patriarchs and prophets, suitably to their power of comprehension, in figure, in an anthropomorphic manner, was not the absolutely Perfect Being Himself, but a representative of Him, His sensible image. The covenant, which this Being concludes with man, has not for its end the mutual satisfaction of wants; for the Supreme Being has no wants, and the wants of man are satisfied, not by means of this covenant, but only by observation of those relations between himself and other natural objects, which are founded on the laws of nature. This covenant, therefore, can have its foundation nowhere but in the nature of reason, without reference to any end.
Heathenism, in my opinion, is distinguished from Judaism mainly by the fact, that the latter rests upon theformal, absolutely necessary laws of reason, while the former (even if it be founded on the nature of things and therefore real) rests upon themateriallaws of nature which are merely hypothetically necessary. From this the inevitable result is polytheism; every particular cause is personified by imagination, that is, representedas a moral being, and made a particular deity. At first this result was a matter of mereEmpiricism; but by and by men had occasion to observe that these causes, which were represented as particular deities, were dependent on each other in their effects, and in a certain aspect subordinate to each other. There thus arose gradually a whole system of heathen theology, in which every deity maintains his rank, and his relation to the rest is determined.
Judaism, on the other hand, in its very origin contemplated asystem, that is, a unity among the forces of nature; and thereby it received at last thispure formalunity. This unity is merely ofregulativeuse, that is, for the complete systematic connection of all the phenomena of nature; and it presupposes a knowledge of themultiplicityof the various forces in nature. But owing to their excessive love of system, and their anxiety for the preservation of theprinciplein its purity, the Israelites seem to have wholly neglected its application. The result was that they preserved a religion which was pure indeed, but at the same time very unfruitful, both for the extension of knowledge and for its application in practical life. By this cause may be explained their constant murmuring against the leaders of their religion, and their repeated relapse into idolatry. They could not, like enlightened nations at the present day, direct their attention to purity of principle and useful application of their religion at the same time, and therefore ofnecessity they failed either in the one or in the other. Finally the Talmudists introduced a merelyformalapplication of religion which aimed at no real end; and by this means they made matters worse and worse.
This religion, therefore, which, by the intention of its founder, should have formed the Jews into the wisest and most intelligent of nations, made them by its injudicious application the most ignorant and unreasonable of all. Instead of the knowledge of nature being combined with the knowledge of religion, and the former subordinated to the latter merely as the material to the formal, the former was altogether neglected; and the principle, maintained in its mere abstractness, continued without any application.
Mysteries of religion are objects and acts, which are adapted to ideas and principles, and the inner meaning of which is of great importance, but which have in their outward form something unseemly or ridiculous or otherwise objectionable. They must therefore, even in regard to their outward form, be kept concealed from the vulgar eye, which cannot penetrate into the inner meaning of anything; and accordingly for it they must be a double mystery. That is to say, the objects or acts themselves constitute the lesser mysteries, and their inner meaning the greater mysteries.
Of this sort, for example, among the Jews, in the tabernacle, and afterwards in the Holy of Holies in the temple, was the ark of the covenant, which, according to the testimonyof renowned authors, showed much resemblance to the sacred chest in the innermost shrine of some heathen temples. Thus we find among the Egyptians the casket of Apis, that concealed from the vulgar eye this dead animal, which as a symbol indeed had an important meaning, but in itself presented a repulsive aspect. The ark of the covenant in the first temple contained, it is true, according to the testimony of Holy Scripture, nothing besides the two tables of the law; but of the ark in the second temple, built after the Babylonian captivity, I find in the Talmud a passage which is too remarkable not to be adduced. According to this passage the enemies, who seized the temple, found in the Holy of Holies the likeness of two persons of different sex embracing, and profaned the sacred object by a crass exposition of its inner meaning. This likeness was said to be a vivid sensible representation of the union between the nation and God, and, in order to guard against abuse, had to be withdrawn from the eye of the common people, who cling to the symbol, but do not penetrate to its inner meaning. For the same reason thecherubimalso were concealed behind the veil.
Of the same sort were the mysteries of the ancients in general. But the greatest of all mysteries in the Jewish religion consists in the name, Jehovah, expressingbare existence, in abstraction from allparticular kinds of existence, which cannot of course be conceived withoutexistence in general. The doctrine of the unity of God, andthe dependence of all beings on Him, in regard to their possibility as well as their actuality, can be perfectly comprehended only in conformity with asingle system. When Josephus, in his apology against Apion, says, "The first instruction of our religion relates to the Godhead, and teaches that God comprehends all things, is an absolutely Perfect and Blessed Being, and is thesole cause of all existence," I believe that these words contain the best explanation of the otherwise difficult passage, where Moses says to God, "Behold, when I come unto the children of Israel, and shall say unto them, The God of your fathers hath sent me unto you, and they shall ask, What is his name? what shall I answer unto them?" and God replies, "Thus shalt thou say unto the children of Israel, Jehovah, the God of your fathers, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob hath sent me unto you, for this is my name for ever, and this is my memorial unto all generations."[52]For, in my opinion, this passage means nothing more than that the Jewish religion lays at its foundation the unity of God as theimmediatecause of all existence; and it says therefore precisely the same as the remarkable inscription on the pyramid at Sais, "I am all that is and was and shall be; my veil has no mortal removed," and that other inscription under the column of Isis, "I am that which is." The name, Jehovah, is called by the TalmudistsShem haezam(nomen proprium),the name of the essence, which belongs to God in Himself, without reference to His operations. The other names of God, however, areappellative, and express attributes which he has in common with all His creatures, only that they belong to Him in the most eminent degree. For example,Elohimis a lord, a judge.Elis a mighty one,Adonai, a lord; and the same is the case with all the rest. The Talmudists drive this point so far as to maintain, that the Holy Scriptures consist merely of the manifold names of God.
The Cabbalists made use of this principle. Having enumerated the chief attributes of God, arranged them in order and brought them into a system which they callOlam EzilothorSephiroth, they not only picked out an appropriate name for each in the Holy Scriptures, but they made in addition all sorts of combinations of these attributes in various relations, which they expressed by similar combinations of the corresponding names. They could therefore easily expound the Holy Scriptures according to their method, inasmuch as they found therein nothing but what they had before put in themselves.
Besides these there may also be mysteries in a religion which consist in the knowledge that the religion, as understood by enlightened people, has no mysteries at all. This knowledge may be connected either with an endeavour to destroy gradually among the people the belief in mysteries, and to banish the so-called lessermysteries by publishing the greater, or, on the contrary, with an endeavour to preserve among the people the belief in mysteries, and to make the preservation of the lesser mysteries part of the subject of the greater.
The Jewish religion, according to the spirit of its founder, is of the first kind. Moses, as well as the prophets who followed him, sought constantly to inculcate that the end of religion is notexternal ceremonies, but the knowledge of the true God as the sole incomprehensible cause of all things, and the practice of virtue in accordance with the prescriptions of reason.
The heathen religions, on the other hand, show evident traces of the second kind. Still I am not, like some, inclined to believe that everything in these was planned forintentional deception, but I believe that the founders of these religions were for the most part deceived deceivers; and this mode of representing the matter is far more in accordance with human nature. I am also unable to imagine that such secret designs could be propagated, by means of a formal tradition, from generation to generation. And, moreover, what would have been the use of this? Have not later generations the same faculty as the earlier of contriving schemes to reach their ends? There are princes who have never read Macchiavelli, and yet have admirably carried his principles into practice.
With regard to the society of pietists described above I am persuaded that it had as little connection with thefree-masons as with any other secret society. But conjectures are allowed, and here we have to do merely with thedegree of probability. In my opinion there are in every state societies which are essentially secret, but which externally have no appearance of being such. Every body of men with a common interest is to me a secret society. Its aim and principal operations may be ever so well known, still themost importantof these remain concealed to the uninitiated. Of such a secret society, as of others, much good as well as evil may therefore be said; and so long as they do not carry their mischief too far, they are always tolerated.
The Society of Pietists had a similar end in view to that of the Order of Illuminati in Bavaria, and employed nearly the same means. Its aim was to spread itself among people wandering in the dark; and it made use of superstition in a remarkable manner, as means to this end. It sought chiefly to attract the youth to itself, and by a sort of empirical knowledge of men, to educate every member to that, for which he seemed to be destined by nature, and to assign him his proper place. Every member of the society was allowed to acquire as much knowledge of its aim and internal constitution, as enabled him to look merely backwards on his subordinates, but not forwards on his superiors. These superiors understood the art of communicating truths of reason by means of sublime figures, and of translating these figurative representations into truths of reason. Itmight almost be said of them, thatthey understood the language of animals—a very important art, which is indispensable to every teacher of the people. By doing away with a gloomy piety, their doctrines met with acceptance among the lively youth. The principle of self-annihilation, taught by them, is, when well understood, nothing else than the foundation of self-activity. By its means all the modes of thought and action, which have become rooted by education, habit and communication with others, and by which human activity is wont to receive a wrong direction, are to be destroyed, and one's own free mode of action introduced. Moral and æsthetic feeling can in fact be preserved and perfected by this principle alone. It is only when ill understood, that it can be injurious, as I have shown by the example of this society itself.