2. Life in Exile.—Moses ben Maimon was old enough and cultivated enough to take in new impressions, and to benefit by new experiences. For years the family moved about from place to place, since safe ‘cities of refuge’ for Jews at that date were but few and far between. They finally settled down at Fostat, in Egypt, where an elder brother, David, seems to have been the chief bread-winner in the family. David ben Maimon was a dealer in precious stones, and Moses is said by some historians to have helped his brother for a while in thecutting and polishing of these gems. Although other historians vehemently deny that Moses had ever anything to do with trade, yet, knowing the respect in which manual labour is always held by Jews, and how often literary men of the race have been handicraftsmen, there seems, on the face of it, no improbability in the story, and rather a reason for giving credence to it, since all agree that at one period in their lives David ben Maimon took upon himself the care and support of his young brother. But whether Moses ever helped in the workshop or not, it is quite certain that he was no idler. He read and wrote most industriously, and before he was twenty-three he had published a treatise on the Jewish calendar, which shows some considerable knowledge of mathematics, and for years he worked away steadily at the production of a learned commentary on the Mishnah. When the time came for choosing a profession—for again, of course, the Law could not be ‘used as a spade’—Maimonides decided to become a physician. That even did not promise to be a very profitable pursuit, for his services were always at the disposal of the class who could not pay fees, but he took the keenest interest in all his patients, and it was not very long before his skill attracted the notice of influential outsiders.
3. Becomes a Court Physician.—In the middle of the twelfth century, Saladin, titular sovereign of Syria, was virtual Sultan of Egypt, and was proving himself, in every action, a hero fit for reality as well as for romance. Saladin had many kingly qualities, and not least among them was his aptitude forfinding out good men, and honouring them when found. Saladin seems to have heard of Maimonides through his vizier, Alfadhel, who, first knowing the Jewish doctor professionally, had come, as he knew him more intimately, to regard him with great admiration as a friend. The introduction to the Sultan proved very fortunate, in a worldly sense, for Maimonides. He was put on the roll of physicians, which gave him a recognised position in the profession, and, in return for certain fixed hours of attendance at court, a pension was allotted to him. The appointment was made about 1186, when Maimonides was more than fifty years of age, and the most valuable thing about it was the freedom it gave him from money anxieties, which especial worry is quite fatal to the production of good original work.
4. Court and other Employment.—But the court appointment gave him no freedom from work, nor any license to be idle. And still less did Maimonides let his successes in the outer world make him indifferent to the wants and the welfare of his own community. It is possible that the physician of Saladin, whose services, report said, had even been solicited by Richard of England, became, by degrees, a little more in request among his own congregation than had he remained only the congregational doctor. But as he grew famous, Maimonides was far too generous to recall whether his fame had come first from without or first from within, and his talents and his services were always at the disposal of all who needed him, poor or rich, Jew or Mahomedan, without much thought of self in the matter. Maimonides was afamous correspondent, and an extract from one of his letters to a friend at this stage in his life will give some idea of what work meant to a popular physician in the Middle Ages.[41]
‘With respect to your wish to come here to me, I cannot but say how greatly your visit would delight me, for I truly long to communicate with you, and would anticipate our meeting with even greater joy than you. Yet I must advise you not to expose yourself to the perils of the voyage, for beyond seeing me, and my doing all I could to honour you, you would not derive any advantage from your visit. Do not expect to be able to confer with me on any scientific subject for even one hour, either by day or night, for the following is my daily occupation:—I dwell in Mizr [Fostat], and the Sultan resides at Kahira [Cairo]; these two places are two Sabbath days’ journeys (about one mile and a half) distant from each other. My duties to the Sultan are very heavy. I am obliged to visit him every day, early in the morning; and when he, or any of his children, or any of the inmates of his harem, are indisposed, I dare not quit Kahira, but must stay during the greater part of the day in the palace. It also frequently happens that one or two of the officers fall sick, and I must attend to their healing. Hence, asa rule, I repair to Kahira very early in the day, and even if nothing unusual happens, I do not return to Mizr until the afternoon. Then I am almost dying with hunger; I find the antechambers filled with people, both Jews and Gentiles, nobles and common people, judges and bailiffs, friends and foes—a mixed multitude, who await the time of my return. I dismount from my animal, wash my hands, go forth to my patients, and entreat them to bear with me while I partake of some slight refreshment, the only meal I take in the twenty-four hours. Then I go forth to attend to my patients, write prescriptions and directions for their several ailments. Patients go in and out until nightfall, and sometimes even, I solemnly assure you, until two hours and more in the night. I converse with them, and prescribe for them while lying down from sheer fatigue; and when night falls I am so exhausted that I can scarcely speak. In consequence of this, no Israelite can have any private interview with me, except on the Sabbath. On that day the whole congregation, or, at least, the majority of the members, come unto me after the morning service, when I instruct them as to their proceedings during the whole week; we study together a little until noon, when they depart. Some of them return and read with me after the afternoon service until evening prayers. In this manner I spend that day. I have here related to you only a part of what you would see if you were to visit me.’
5. His Writings.—Busy as he was, yet, like most very busy people, Maimonides always found plenty of time for everything, and he continued to write andto study and to prescribe, in a way that seemed wonderful to those who were not in the secret of how good work gets done. To say he was ‘a genius’ does not quite explain it. Maimonides’ genius was of the steady sort, that has industry for its roots, and grudges neither years of labour nor daily efforts of self-denial. The precious leisure of ten whole years was spent by Maimonides in the production of a single book, and this ‘leisure’ of early manhood must have included very many monotonous hours, which might have been given to personal pleasure or to active enjoyment. And even odd minutes were utilised by Maimonides. In the intervals of his great works he would write a treatise on medicine or mathematics, or throw off a poem, or indulge in an epigram.
The title of the ten-years book is [a]הַיָּד הַחֲזָקָה], ‘The Strong Hand.’ It consists of an introduction and fourteen sections or books. In the introduction he describes the chain of tradition from the time of Moses till his own days, and the rest is a religious code, containing the Jewish laws—written and oral—systematically arranged and presented to the reader without discussion or argument. This work was published in 1180, when Maimonides was forty-five years old, and it was well received by most of the people who were wise enough to understand it. In 1191 a very important book was brought out by Maimonides, which, under the name of [a]מוֹרֶה נְבוּכִים], ‘a Guide to the Perplexed,’ attracted an immense amount of attention, but not altogether of a favourable sort, to the author. The book deals with the perplexities of religious belief, and tries to solve some of the many puzzles in life and in religion to which God Himselfgives and withholds the key, when He says to the children of men, ‘My ways are not your ways, neither are your thoughts My thoughts.’ Maimonides, in a reverent but still in a philosophising spirit, tried to reconcile these ‘thoughts and ways,’ and to lift the lower to a comprehension of the higher. His efforts were not always, nor altogether, understood. In the then debased state of the Jews, the pressing need of a God who should be ‘near’ to them, had led, in many instances, to an ideal of divinity something a little different from, something a little lower than, what ‘the Lord, the Spirit of all flesh,’ should mean. There was a tendency, here and there, to materialise God, to localise His favours, and to dogmatise concerning His doings. Against all this, Maimonides patiently and persistently strove. To take as an instance a very famous chapter in this book, which has excited much controversy. The theme is the Jewish code concerning sacrifice. Maimonides argues that the blood of ‘cattle on a thousand hills’ could never have been, at any time, a desirable, or even an acceptable, offering to a loving and merciful God. He ‘guides the perplexed’ to the conclusion that the sacrificial system of the Jews was designed as an education, with the object of weaning a people living in the midst of idolatrous nations from worse, and of leading them to better, things. He considered the laws on sacrifice as designed against idolatry. But, in his view, the value of sacrifice, like the value of prayer, lay in the fact that it was a means to an end, and not an end in itself. He held that ‘sacrifice’ was designed toteach self-denial and practical repentance, and that the especial form, through which, in the world’s early history, such lessons were taught, was suited to the conditions under which it was given. Such reasoning sounded to many, not the loving argument it really was in favour of a spiritual idea of God, but a reasoning away of old received and literal renderings of time-honoured texts.
And even this much-resented chapter on sacrifice did not produce so much discussion and bitter feeling as did some chapters on prophecy, in which Maimonides appeared to represent the power of prophecy as, in degree, a natural development of man’s intellect. The conflict between faith and philosophy was waxing strong among Christians. There was a growing tendency to call names on both sides, to denounce science as paganism, and to sneer at religion as superstition. The sounds of this conflict between philosophers and theologians, in the larger world around them, found echoes among the Jews. We must remember that, except in Spain, the poor Jews of Europe, for centuries, had had no healthy interest whatever outside of their religion. Their Law was their ‘light,’ and their Talmud was the only window through which that light was let in upon their lives. Oftentimes they ‘darkened with counsel’ the rays of Law and Talmud both. The endeavour of Moses Maimonides was to clear away the gathering mists, and to broaden the window-panes, that the knowledge of the Lord might shine out on all the multitude. But the poor persecuted Jews clung to their Law and their Talmud, to every line of Mishnah and Gemara, witha love that was so personal and passionate, that any sort of criticism on such prized possessions was suspected and resented. Maimonides’ views on God and angels and prophets were based on Greek philosophy, and these views did not seem to his opponents any better than their own notions, which were drawn from the national sources of Midrash and Hagadah. Hence it is hardly surprising that some Rabbis forbade the study of [a]מוֹרֶה נְבוּכִים], and called its author a heretic. When the opinion of the Rabbis became known to the Dominicans, these latter had copies of the book burnt in the market-place of Paris.
6. His Character.—In the writings of Maimonides we discover the talent of the man, but it is in his attitude under the response which these writings met with that we find out his character. He never grew angry at the mistaken zeal of his co-religionists. He understood the circumstances, and could make allowance for injustice, and pass over personal annoyance. And yet he was by no means a patient man. He did not like stupid nor ignorant criticism concerning essential principles of Judaism, and he could express himself in no very gentle language when he or his writings met with opposition of that sort. Still, he showed every respect to his opponents. He saw that there was a good as well as a bad side to the clamour and the seeming narrow-mindedness; and to enthusiastic, earnest natures like Maimonides’, intolerance is easier to bear than indifference. At this crisis in his life, Maimonides showed that he had ‘staying’ power. He could wait as well as he could work. He let his faith—
‘Rest large in time, and
That which shapes it to some perfect end.’