The century remarkable among other things for encyclopedia enterprises,—Chambers' Encyclopedia in England, the Universal Lexicon in Germany, and that wonderful and monumental work, the Encyclopédie in France—saw, before its close, a similar attempt, in miniature, in Hebrew and by a Slavonic Maskil. Whether the Hebrew encyclopedist was influenced by the example of Dr. Tobias Cohn's Ma'aseh Tobiah mentioned above, or was unconsciously imbued with the prevailing tendency of the times, it is impossible to tell. In any event, he resorted to the same means, and presented the Jewish world with a volume containing a little of every science known, under the innocent name The Book of the Covenant (Sefer ha-Berit, Brünn, 1797).
The book appeared anonymously. This, the author assures us, was due not to humbleness of spirit, but to a vow. His diligence and constant application had greatly impaired his eyes. He vowed that if God restored his sight, and enabled him to finish his task, he would publish the book without disclosing his authorship. God hearkened unto his prayers, and the work was soon completed. But an unforeseen trouble arose. His book was ascribed "by some to the sage of Berlin, by others to the Gaon of Vilna, and by many to the united efforts of a coterie of scholars, for it could not be believed that so many and diverse sciences could be mastered by one person." Moreover, the author was censured for being afraid to come out openly and boldly as a champion of Haskalah.[38] In spite of obstacles and strictures, the book met with success surpassing the author's expectations. It found its way not only into Russia, Poland, and Germany, but even into France, Italy, England, Holland, and Palestine. An edition of two thousand copies was entirely exhausted, unusual at a time when books were costly and money was scarce, and another edition was issued. What Phinehas Elijah (Hurwitz) of Vilna had sown in tears, he lived to reap in joy.
There was a crying need in Russia for a work of the sort. In Germany the very Government encouraged organizations and publications aiming at enlightenment. Accordingly, a Society for the Promotion of the Good and the Noble was started, and the Meassef was published. In Russo-Poland not even a Hebrew printing-press was permitted, and certainly no periodical publications would have been tolerated. Phinehas Elijah, therefore, grasped the opportunity, and showed himself equal to it. His aim was, like that of the French encyclopedists, to lead his readers "through nature to God." He gives an account of the various sciences, natural and philosophical, as a prolegomenon to the study of theology, even of the mystic teachings of Vital's Gates of Holiness. Withal he evinces a sound intellect and refined, if rudimentary, taste. He decries the "ancestor worship" that rendered the Jew of his day a fossil specimen of an extinct species. The present is superior to the past, "a dwarf on a giant's shoulder seeth farther than doth the giant himself." He ridicules the base and degrading habit of dedicating books to "benefactors, friends, lovers, parents, men, or women." His work was written for the glory of God, and he dedicates it to eternal, all-conquering truth.[39]
All these Maskilim, so many hands reaching out into the light, were both the cause and the consequence of the longing for enlightenment characteristic at all times of the Slavonic Jew. Graetz and his followers among the latter-day Maskilim delighted in calling them "they that walk in darkness." Facts, however, prove that at no time before Nicholas I was education per se regarded with the least suspicion, though the Talmud was given the preference. As in the pre-Haskalah period, the greatest Talmudists deemed it a sacred duty to perfect themselves in some branch of secular science. When, in 1710, a terrible plague broke out in his native town, Rabbi Jonathan of Risenci (Grodno) vowed that, "if he were spared, he would disseminate a knowledge of astronomy among his countrymen." To fulfil the vow he went to Germany (1725), where, though blind, he devoted himself assiduously first to the acquisition of astronomy, then to writing on it.[40] Baruch Yavan of Volhynia, who more than any one exposed the impostures of Jacob Frank, "spoke and wrote Hebrew, Polish, German, and probably French," and his accomplishments and address won him the admiration of Count Brühl, the virtual ruler of Poland, and the favor of the highest officials at St. Petersburg. His associate in the righteous fight, Bima Speir of Mohilev, was also possessed of a thorough command of the language of Russia, and was well posted in its literature, history, and politics. The Pinczovs, descendants of Rabbi Polack, connected with the most eminent rabbinical families, and themselves famous for piety and erudition, produced many works on mathematics and philosophy. Mendelssohn's translation of the Pentateuch was at first hailed with joy, and was recommended by the most zealous rabbis. Doctor Hurwitz of Vilna did not hesitate to dedicate his 'Ammude Bet Yehudah to Wessely, who was more popular in Russo-Poland than in Germany. The whole edition of his Yen Lebanon, which fell flat in the latter country, though offered gratis, was sold when introduced into the former.[41] Joseph Pesseles' correspondence concerning Dubno, with David Friedländer, the disciple of Mendelssohn (1773), proves the high esteem in which the liberal-minded savants of Berlin were held in Russia. The rabbis of Brest, Slutsk, and Lublin gave laudatory recommendations to Judah Löb Margolioth's popular works of natural science, which form a little encyclopedia by themselves. Margolioth was the grandson of Mordecai Jaffe, himself rabbi successively at Busnov, Szebrszyn, Polotsk, Lesla, and Frankfort-on-the-Oder (d. 1811). The writings of Baruch Schick of Shklov, referred to above, were accorded the same welcome. His translation of Euclid and his treatises on trigonometry, astronomy ('Ammude ha-Shamayim), and anatomy (Tiferet Adam) won the admiration of rabbis as well as laymen. Epitaphs of the day contain the statement that the deceased was not only "at home in all the chambers of the Torah," but also in "philosophy and the seven sciences." And this, exaggerated though it may be, must be seen to contain a kernel of the truth, when we recall that among Maimon's intimate friends was the rabbi of Kletzk, Lithuania; that in the humble dwelling of his father there were works on historical, astronomical, and philosophical subjects; that the chief rabbi of a neighboring town, Rabbi Samson of Slonim, who, according to Fünn, "had in his youth lived for a while in Germany, learned the German language there, and made himself acquainted in some measure with the sciences," continued his study of the sciences, and soon collected a fair library of German books.[42] Saadia, Bahya, Halevi, Ibn Ezra, Crescas, Bedersi, Levi ben Gerson (whom Goldenthal calls the Hebrew Kant), Albo, Abarbanel, and others whose works deserve a high place in the history of Jewish philosophy, were on the whole fairly represented in the libraries, and diligently studied in the numerous yeshibot and batte midrashim.
Thus the enlightenment which dawned upon France, Germany, and England cast a glow even on the Slavonic Jews, despite the Chinese wall of disabilities that hemmed them in. Unfortunately, this only helped to render them dissatisfied with their wretched lot, without affording them the means of ameliorating it. While the Jews in Western Europe profited and were encouraged by the example of their Christian neighbors; while, in addition to their innate thirst for learning, they had everywhere else political and civil preferments to look forward to, in Russo-Poland not only were such outside stimuli absent, but the Slavonic Jews had to struggle against obstacles and hindrances at every step. No such heaven on earth could be dreamed of there. The country was still in a most barbarous state. Those who wished to perfect themselves in any of the sciences had to leave home and all and go to a foreign land, and had to study, as they were bidden to study the Talmud, "lishmah," that is, for its own sake. This is the distinguishing feature between the German and Slavonic Maskilim during the eighteenth century. The cry of the former was, "Become learned, lest the nations say we are not civilized and deny us the wealth, respect, and especially the equality we covet!" The latter were humbly seeking after the truth, either because they could better elucidate the Talmud, or because, as they held, it was their truth, of which the nations had deprived them during their long exile.[43] They were unlike their German brethren in another respect. Almost all of them were "self-made men," autodidacts in the truest sense. Lacking the advantages of secular schools, they culled their first information from scanty, antiquated Hebrew translations. Maimon learned the Roman alphabet from the transliteration of the titles on the fly-leaves of some Talmudic tracts; Doctor Behr, from Wolff's Mathematics. But no sooner was the impetus given than it was followed by an insatiable craving for more and more of the intellectual manna, for a wider and wider horizon. "Look," says Wessely, "look at our Russian and Polish brethren who immigrate hither, men great in Torah, yet admirers of the sciences, which, without the guiding help of teachers, they all master to such perfection as to surpass even a Gentile sage!"[44] Such self-education was, of course, not without unfavorable results. Never having enjoyed the advantage of a systematic elementary training, the enthusiasts sometimes lacked the very rudiments of knowledge, though engaged in the profoundest speculations of philosophy. "As our mothers in Egypt gave birth to their children before the mid-wife came," writes Pinsker somewhat later,[45] "even so it is with the intellectual products of our brethren: before one becomes acquainted with the grammar of a language, he masters its classic and scientific literature!"
Steadily though slowly, brighter, if not better, days were coming. "Thought once awakened shall not again slumber." As Carlyle says of the French of that period, it became clear for the first time to the upturned eyes of the Jews, "that Thought has actually a kind of existence in other kingdoms [than the Talmud]; that some glimmerings of civilization had dawned here and there on the human species." They begin to try all things; they visit Germany, France, Denmark, Holland, even England; learn their literatures, study in their universities, and contribute their quota to the apologetic, controversial, scientific, and philosophic investigations "with a candor and real love of improvement which give the best omens of a still higher success." Fortune, indeed, has cast them also into a cavern, and they are groping around darkly. But this prisoner, too, is a giant, and he will, at length, burst forth as a giant into the light of day.
(Notes, pp. [310-314].)