Solomon Maimon: An Autobiography Part 11

With the Ontology, the Cosmology, and the Psychology all went well; but the Theology created many difficulties, inasmuch as I found its dogmas, not only not in harmony, but even in contradiction, with the preceding propositions. At the very beginning I could not a.s.sent to Wolff's argument _a posteriori_ for the existence of G.o.d in accordance with the Principle of Sufficient Reason; and I raised the objection to it, that, inasmuch as, according to Wolff's own confession, the Principle of Sufficient Reason is abstracted from particular cases of experience, the only point which can be proved by it is, that every object of experience must have its sufficient reason in some other object of experience, but not in an object beyond all experience. I also compared these new metaphysical doctrines with those of Maimonides, or rather of Aristotle, which were already known to me; and I could not bring them into harmony at all.

I resolved therefore to set forth these doubts in the Hebrew language, and to send what I wrote to Herr Mendelssohn, of whom I had already heard so much. When he received my communication, he was not a little astonished at it, and replied to me at once, that in fact my doubts were well founded, that I should not however allow myself to be discouraged on their account, but should continue to study with the zeal with which I had begun.

Encouraged by this, I wrote in Hebrew a dissertation in which I brought into doubt the foundations of Revealed as well as of Natural Theology.

All the thirteen articles of faith, laid down by Maimonides, I attacked with philosophical arguments, with the exception of one, namely the article on reward and punishment, which I conceded merely in its philosophical interpretation, as referring to the natural consequences of voluntary actions. I sent this dissertation to Mendelssohn, who was not a little amazed, that a Polish Jew, who had scarcely got the length of seeing the Metaphysics of Wolff, was already able to penetrate into their depths so far, that he was in a position to shake their results by means of a correct Ontology. He invited me to visit him, and I accepted his invitation. But I was so shy, the manners and customs of the Berliners were so new to me, it was not without fear and embarra.s.sment, that I ventured to enter a fas.h.i.+onable house. When therefore I opened Mendelssohn's door, and saw him and other gentlefolks who were there, as well as the beautiful rooms and elegant furniture, I shrank back, closed the door again, and had a mind not to go in. Mendelssohn however had observed me. He came out and spoke to me very kindly, led me into his room, placed himself beside me at the window, and paid me many compliments about my writing. He a.s.sured me, that, if I went on in this way, I should in a short time make great progress in Metaphysics; and he promised also to resolve my doubts. Not satisfied with this, the worthy man looked after my maintenance also, recommended me to the most eminent, enlightened and wealthy Jews, who made provision for my board and other wants. Their tables I was at liberty to enjoy when I chose, and their libraries were open to my use.

Especially worthy of mention among these gentlemen was H----, a man of many attainments and excellent disposition, who was a particular friend and disciple of Mendelssohn. He took great pleasure in my conversation, often discussed with me the most important subjects in Natural Theology and Morals, on which I expressed my thoughts to him quite frankly and without disguise. I went over with him in a conversational way all the systems known to me that are generally denounced, and defended them with the greatest pertinacity. He met me with objections; I answered them, and brought in my turn objections against the opposite systems. At first this friend regarded me as a speaking animal, and entertained himself with me, as one is apt to do with a dog or a starling that has been taught to speak a few words. The odd mixture of the animal in my manners, my expressions, and my whole outward behaviour, with the rational in my thoughts, excited his imagination more than the subject of our conversation roused his understanding. By degrees the fun was turned to earnest. He began to give his attention to the subjects themselves; and as, notwithstanding his other capabilities and attainments, he had no philosophical head, and the liveliness of his imagination generally interfered with the ripeness of his judgment, the results of our conversations may be readily imagined.

A few examples will be sufficient to give an idea of the manner in which I conducted a discussion at the time, of the ellipses in my diction arising from my deficiency in expressions, and of the way in which I ill.u.s.trated everything by examples. I endeavoured once to make Spinoza's system intelligible,--to show that all things are merely accidents of a single substance. My friend interrupted me and said, "But, good heavens! are not you and I different men, and do we not each possess an existence of our own?" "Close the shutters," I called in reply to his objection. This strange expression threw him into astonishment; he did not know what I meant. At last I explained myself.

"See," said I, "the sun s.h.i.+nes through the windows. This square window gives you a square reflection, and the round window a round reflection.

Are they on that account different things, and not rather one and the same suns.h.i.+ne?"

On another occasion I defended Helvetius' system of self-love. He brought against it the objection, that we surely love other persons as well as ourselves. "For instance," said he, "I love my wife;" and to confirm this he gave her a kiss. "That proves nothing against me," I replied. "For, why do you kiss your wife? Because you find pleasure in doing it."

Herr A---- M---- also, a good honest fellow, and at that time a wealthy man, allowed me free access to his house. Here I found Locke in the German translation, and I was pleased with him at the first hasty glance, for I recognised him as the best of the modern philosophers, as a man who had no interest but the truth. Accordingly I proposed to the tutor of Herr A---- M----, that he should take lessons from me on this admirable work. At first he smiled at my simplicity in proposing, that I, who had scarcely got the length of seeing Locke, should give lessons to him whose native tongue was German, and who had been brought up in the sciences. He acted, however, as if he found nothing offensive in the matter, accepted my proposal, and fixed an hour for the lessons. I presented myself at the time appointed, and began the lessons; but as I could not read a word of German correctly, I told my pupil to read aloud paragraph by paragraph in the text, and that then I should give him an exposition of each. My pupil, who pretended to be in earnest, consented to this also, to carry on the joke; but how great was his astonishment when he found, that no joke was to be played in the matter, that in fact my expositions and remarks, though delivered in my own peculiar language, evinced a genuine philosophical spirit.

It was still more amusing, when I became acquainted with the family of Widow Levi, and made the proposal to her son, the young Herr Samuel Levi,[53] who is still my Maecenas, that he should take lessons from me in the German language. The studious youth, incited by my reputation, was resolved to make a trial, and wished me to explain Adelung's _German Grammar_. I, who had never seen Adelung's Grammar, did not allow myself to be at all disconcerted on this account.[54] My pupil was obliged to read Adelung bit by bit, while I not only expounded it, but added glosses of my own. In particular I found a good deal to take exception to in Adelung's philosophical explanation of the parts of speech; and I drew up an explanation of my own, which I communicated to my intelligent pupil, by whom it is still preserved.

As a man altogether without experience I carried my frankness at times a little too far, and brought upon myself many vexations in consequence. I was reading Spinoza. His profound thought and his love of truth pleased me uncommonly; and as his system had already been suggested to me by the Cabbalistic writings, I began to reflect upon it anew, and became so convinced of its truth, that all the efforts of Mendelssohn to change my opinion were unavailing. I answered all the objections brought against it by the Wolfians, brought objections against their system myself, and showed, that, if the _nominal definition_s of the Wolfian Ontology are converted into _real definitions_, conclusions the very opposite of theirs are the result. Moreover, I could not explain the persistency of Mendelssohn and the Wolfians generally in adhering to their system, except as a political dodge and a piece of hypocrisy, by which they studiously endeavoured to descend to the mode of thinking common in the popular mind; and this conviction I expressed openly and without reserve. My friends and well-wishers, who for the most part had never themselves speculated on philosophical subjects, but blindly adopted the results of the systems prevailing at the time as if they were established truths, did not understand me, and therefore also were unable to follow me in my opinions.

Mendelssohn, whose usual course was to tack, did not wish to oppose my love of inquiry, secretly even took pleasure in it, and said, that at present indeed I was not on the right road, but that the course of my thoughts must not be checked, because, as Descartes rightly remarked, doubt is the beginning of thorough philosophical speculation.

CHAPTER XXIV.

Mendelssohn--A chapter devoted to the memory of a worthy friend.

_Quis desiderio sit pudor aut modus tam cari capitis?_

The name of Mendelssohn is too well known to the world, to make it necessary for me here to dwell long on the portraiture of the great intellectual and moral qualities of this celebrated man of our nation. I shall sketch merely those prominent features of his portrait, which have made the strongest impression upon me. He was a good Talmudist, and a pupil of the celebrated Rabbi Israel, or, as he is otherwise named after the t.i.tle of a Talmudic work which he wrote, Nezach Israel (the strength of Israel),--a Polish rabbi who was denounced for heresy by his countrymen. This rabbi had, besides his great Talmudic capabilities and acquirements, a good deal of scientific talent, especially in mathematics, with which he had attained a thorough acquaintance, even in Poland, from the few Hebrew writings on this science, as may be seen in the above-mentioned work. In this work there are introduced solutions of many important mathematical problems, which are applied either to the explanation of some obscure pa.s.sages in the Talmud, or to the determination of a law. Rabbi Israel of course was more interested in the extension of useful knowledge among his countrymen than in the determination of a law, which he used merely as a vehicle for the other.

He showed, for example, that it is not right for the Jews in our part of the world to turn exactly to the East at prayer; for the Talmudic law requires them to turn to Jerusalem, and, as our part of the world lies north-west from Jerusalem, they ought to turn to the south-east. He shows also how, by means of spherical trigonometry, the required direction may be determined with the utmost exactness in all parts of the world, and many other truths of a similar kind. Along with the celebrated Chief Rabbi Frankel, he contributed much to develop the great abilities of Mendelssohn.

Mendelssohn possessed a thorough acquaintance with mathematics; and this science he valued, not only for its self-evidence, but also as the best exercise in profound reasoning. That he was a great philosopher, is well enough known. He was not indeed an originator of new systems; he had however amended the old systems, especially the Leibnitio-Wolfian, and had applied it with success to many subjects in philosophy.

It is hard to say whether Mendelssohn was endowed with more acuteness or with depth of intellect. Both faculties were found united in him in a very high degree. His exactness in definition and cla.s.sification, and his fine distinctions, are evidences of the former talent, while his profound philosophical treatises afford proofs of the latter.

In his character, as he himself confessed, he was by nature a man of strong pa.s.sions, but by long exercise in Stoical morality he had learnt to keep them under control. A young man, under the impression that Mendelssohn had done him a wrong, came one day to upbraid him, and indulged in one impertinence after another. Mendelssohn stood leaning on a chair, never turned his eye from his visitor, and listened to all his impertinences with the utmost Stoical patience. After the young man had vented all his pa.s.sion, Mendelssohn went to him and said, "Go! You see that you fail to reach your object here; you can't make me angry." Still on such occasions Mendelssohn could not conceal his sorrow at the weakness of human nature. Not infrequently I was myself overheated in my disputes with him, and violated the respect due to such a man,--a fact on which I still reflect with remorse.

Mendelssohn possessed deep knowledge of human nature,--a knowledge which consists not so much in seizing some unconnected features of a character, and representing them in theatrical fas.h.i.+on, as in discovering those essential features of a character, from which all the others may be explained, and in some measure predicted. He was able to describe accurately all the springs of action and the entire moral wheelwork of a man, and understood thoroughly the mechanism of the soul.

This gave a character, not only to his intercourse and other dealings with men, but also to his literary labours.

Mendelssohn understood the useful and agreeable art of throwing himself into another person's mode of thought. He could thus supply whatever was deficient, and fill up the gaps in the thoughts of another. Jews newly arrived from Poland, whose thoughts are for the most part confused, and whose language is an unintelligible jargon, Mendelssohn could understand perfectly. In his conversations with them he adopted their expressions and forms of speech, sought to bring down his mode of thinking to theirs, and thus to raise theirs to his own.

He understood also the art of finding out the good side of every man and of every event. Not infrequently, therefore, he found entertainment in people whose intercourse, owing to the eccentric use of their powers, is by others avoided; and only downright stupidity and dullness were offensive to him, though they were so in the highest degree. I was once an eye-witness of the manner in which he entertained himself with a man of the most eccentric style of thinking and the most extravagant behaviour. I lost all patience on the occasion, and after the man was gone I asked Mendelssohn in wonder, "How could you have anything to do with this fellow?" "We examine attentively," he said, "a machine whose construction is unknown to us, and we seek to make intelligible its mode of working. Should not this man claim a like attention? should we not seek in the same way to render intelligible his odd utterances, since he certainly has his springs of action and his wheelwork as well as any machine?"

In discussion with a reasoner who held stubbornly to a system once adopted Mendelssohn was stubborn himself, and took advantage of the slightest inaccuracy in his opponent's way of thinking. On the other hand, with a more accommodating thinker he was accommodating also, and used commonly to close the discussion with the words, "We must hold fast, not to mere words, but to the things they signify."

Nothing was so offensive to him as an _esprit de bagatelle_ or affectation; with anything of this sort he could not conceal his displeasure. H---- once invited a party, in which Mendelssohn was the princ.i.p.al guest, and he entertained them the whole time with talk about some hobby of his, which was not exactly of the choicest kind.

Mendelssohn showed his displeasure by never deigning to give the slightest attention to the worthless creature. Madam ---- was a lady who affected an excess of sensibility, and as is customary with such characters, used to reproach herself in order to extort praise from others. Mendelssohn sought to bring her to reason by showing her impressively how exceptionable her conduct was and how she ought to think seriously about improvement.

In a disconnected conversation he took little part himself; he acted rather as observer then, and took pleasure in watching the conduct of the rest of the company. If, on the other hand, the conversation was coherent, he took the warmest interest in it himself, and, by a skilful turn, he could, without interrupting the conversation, give it a useful direction.

Mendelssohn could never take up his mind with trifles; matters of the greatest moment kept him in restless activity, such as the principles of Morals and of Natural Theology, the immortality of the soul, etc. In all these branches of inquiry, in which humanity is so deeply interested, he has also, as I hold, done as much as can be done on the principles of the Leibnitio-Wolfian philosophy. Perfection was the compa.s.s which he had constantly before his eyes, and which directed his course, in all these investigations. His G.o.d is the Ideal of the highest perfection, and the idea of the highest perfection lies at the basis of his Ethics.

The principle of his aesthetics is sensuous perfection.

My discussion with him on our first acquaintance referred mainly to the following points. I was a faithful adherent of Maimonides before I became acquainted with modern philosophy; and, as such, I insisted on the negation[55] of all positive attributes to G.o.d, inasmuch as these can be represented by us only as finite. Accordingly I proposed the following dilemma: Either G.o.d is not the absolutely perfect being, in which case his attributes may by us be not only _conceived_, but also _known_, that is, represented as realities belonging to an object; or He _is_ the absolutely perfect being, and then the idea of G.o.d is conceived by us, but its reality is merely _a.s.sumed_ as problematic. Mendelssohn, on the other hand, insisted on the affirmation, with regard to G.o.d, of all realities,--a position which goes very well with the Leibnitio-Wolfian philosophy, because it requires, in order to prove the reality of an idea, nothing more than that it is thinkable, that is, fulfils the law of Non-Contradiction.

My moral theory was then genuine Stoicism. It aimed at the attainment of free will and the ascendency of reason over the feelings and pa.s.sions.

It made the highest destination of man to be the maintenance of his _differentia specifica_, the knowledge of the truth; and all other impulses, common to us with the irrational animals, were to be put in operation merely as means to this chief end. The knowledge of the good was not distinguished by me from the knowledge of the true; for, following Maimonides, I held the knowledge of the truth to be the highest good of man. Mendelssohn, on the other hand, maintained that the idea of perfection, which lies at the basis of Ethics, is of much wider extent than the mere knowledge of the truth. All natural impulses, capacities and powers, as something good in themselves (not merely as means to something good), were to be brought into exercise as realities.

The highest perfection was the idea of the maximum, or the greatest sum, of these realities.

The immortality of the soul, for me, following Maimonides, consisted in the union with the Universal Spirit of that part of the faculty of knowledge which has been brought into exercise, in proportion to the degree of that exercise; and in accordance with this doctrine I held those only to be partakers of this immortality, who occupy themselves with the knowledge of eternal truths, and in the degree in which they do so. The soul, therefore, must, with the attainment of this high immortality, lose its individuality. That Mendelssohn, in accordance with modern philosophy, thought differently on this subject, every one will readily believe.

His sentiments in reference to revealed or positive religion I can give here, not as something made known to me by himself, but merely in so far as I have been able to infer them from his utterances on the subject in his writings with the a.s.sistance of my own reflections. For at that time, as an incipient freethinker, I explained all revealed religion as in itself false, and its use, so far as the writings of Mendelssohn had enabled me to understand it, as merely temporary. Moreover, being a man without experience, I thought it an easy matter to convince others in opposition to their firmly rooted habits and long-cherished prejudices, while I a.s.sumed the usefulness of such a reformation to be undoubted.

Mendelssohn therefore was unable to hold any conversation with me on the subject, since he could not but fear lest, as has happened, and happens still, in the case of several others, I should p.r.o.nounce his arguments in reply to be mere pieces of sophistry, and should attribute motives to him on that account. From his utterances, however, in the preface to his _Mana.s.seh ben Israel_ as well as in his _Jerusalem_, it is clear that, though he did not consider any revealed _doctrines_ to be eternal truths, yet he accepted revealed laws of religion as such, and that he held the laws of the Jewish religion, as the fundamental laws of a theocratic const.i.tution, to be immutable as far as circ.u.mstances allow.

So far as I am concerned, I am led to a.s.sent entirely to Mendelssohn's reasoning by my own reflections on the fundamental laws of the religion of my fathers. The fundamental laws of the Jewish religion are at the same time the fundamental laws of the Jewish state. They must therefore be obeyed by all who acknowledge themselves to be members of this state, and who wish to enjoy the rights granted to them under condition of their obedience. But, on the other hand, any man who separates himself from this state, who desires to be considered no longer a member of it, and to renounce all his rights as such, whether he enters another state or betakes himself to solitude, is also in his conscience no longer bound to obey those laws. I a.s.sent moreover to Mendelssohn's remark, that a Jew cannot, by simply pa.s.sing over to the Christian religion, free himself from the laws of his own religion, because Jesus of Nazareth observed these laws himself and commanded his followers to observe them. But how, if a Jew wishes to be no longer a member of this theocratic state, and goes over to the heathen religion, or to the philosophical, which is nothing more than pure natural religion? How, if, merely as a member of a political state, he submits to its laws, and demands from it his rights in return, without making any declaration whatever about his religion, since the state is reasonable enough not to require from him a declaration with which it has nothing to do? I do not believe Mendelssohn would maintain that even in this case a Jew is bound in conscience to observe the laws of his fathers' religion merely because it is the religion of his fathers. As far as is known, Mendelssohn lived in accordance with the laws of his religion.

Presumably, therefore, he always regarded himself as still a member of the theocratic state of his fathers, and consequently acted up to his duty in this respect. But any man who abandons this state is acting just as little in violation of his duty.

On the other hand I consider it wrong in Jews, who from family attachments and interests profess the Jewish religion, to transgress its laws, where, according to their own opinion, these do not stand in the way of those motives. I cannot therefore understand the conduct of Mendelssohn in reference to a Jew of Hamburg who openly transgressed the laws of his religion, and who was on that account excommunicated by the chief rabbi. Mendelssohn wanted to cancel the excommunication on the ground that the church has no rights in civil matters. But how can he then maintain the perpetuity of the Jewish ecclesiastical state? For what is a state without rights, and wherein consists, according to Mendelssohn, the rights of this ecclesiastical state? "How," says Mendelssohn, (in the preface to _Mana.s.seh ben Israel_, p. 48), "can a state allow one of its useful and respected citizens to suffer misfortune through its laws?" Surely not, I reply; but the Hamburg Jew suffers no misfortune by virtue of the excommunication. He required only to say or do nothing which legally leads to this result, and he would then have avoided the sentence. For excommunication is merely tantamount to saying:--"So long as you put yourself in opposition to the laws of our communion, you are excluded from it; and you must therefore make up your mind whether this open disobedience or the privileges of our communion can most advance your blessedness." This surely cannot have escaped a mind like Mendelssohn's, and I leave it to others to decide how far a man may be inconsistent for the sake of human welfare.

Mendelssohn had to endure many an injustice at the hands of otherwise estimable men, from whom such treatment might least have been expected.

Lavater's officiousness is well enough known, and disapproved by all right-thinking men.[56] The profound Jacobi had a predilection for Spinozism, with which surely no independent thinker can find fault, and wanted to make out Mendelssohn, as well as his friend Lessing, to be Spinozists, in spite of themselves. With this view he published a correspondence on the subject, which was never intended to appear in print, and be subjected to public inspection. What was the use of this?

If Spinozism is true, it is so without Mendelssohn's a.s.sent. Eternal truths have nothing to do with the majority of votes, and least of all where, as I hold, the truth is of such a nature, that it leaves all expression behind.

Such an injustice must have given Mendelssohn much annoyance. A celebrated physician maintained even, that it caused his death; but, though I am not a physician, I venture to gainsay the a.s.sertion.

Mendelssohn's conduct in relation to Jacobi, as well as to Lavater, was that of a hero. No, no! this hero died in the fifth act.

The acute preacher, Jacob, in Halle published, after Mendelssohn's death, a book ent.i.tled, _Examination of Mendelssohn's Morgenstunden_, in which he shows that, according to the _Critique of Pure Reason_, all metaphysical doctrines are to be rejected as baseless. But why does this concern Mendelssohn more than any other metaphysician? Mendelssohn did nothing but develop to greater completeness the Leibnitio-Wolfian philosophy, apply it to many important subjects of human inquiry, and clothe it in an attractive garb. It is just as if any one were to attack Maimonides, who has written an excellent astronomical treatise on Ptolemaic principles, by writing a book with the t.i.tle, _Examination of the Hilchoth Kidush Hakodesh of Maimonides_, in which he should seek to refute his author on Newtonian principles! But enough of this.

CHAPTER XXV.

My aversion at first for belles lettres, and my subsequent conversion--Departure from Berlin--Sojourn in Hamburg--I drown myself in the same way as a bad actor shoots himself--An old fool of a woman falls in love with me, but her addresses are rejected.

For _belles lettres_ I discovered not the slightest inclination; I could not even conceive how any man was to form a science of what pleases or displeases--a matter which, according to my opinion at the time, could have merely a subjective ground. One day when I was taking a walk with Mendelssohn, our conversation fell upon the subject of the poets, whom he recommended me to read. "No," I replied, "I am going to read none of the poets. What is a poet but a liar?" Mendelssohn smiled at this and said, "You agree in this with Plato, who banished all poets from his Republic. But I hope that with time you will think differently on the subject." And so it happened soon.

Longinus' _On the Sublime_ fell into my hand. The examples of the sublime which he adduces from Homer, and particularly the celebrated pa.s.sage of Sappho, made a deep impression on my mind. I thought to myself, these are but foolish trifles, it is true, but the imagery and descriptions are really very beautiful. After that I read Homer himself, and was forced to laugh heartily at the foolish fellow. What a serious air, I said to myself, over such childless stories! By and by, however, I found a great deal of pleasure in the reading. Ossian, on the other hand, whom I got to read afterwards (of course only in German translations) produced on me a peculiarly awe-inspiring effect. The pomp of his style, the impressive brevity of his descriptions, the purity of his sentiments, the simplicity of the objects described by him, and lastly, the similarity of his poetry to that of the Hebrews, charmed me uncommonly. Thus I found also a great deal of gratification in Gessner's Idylls.

My friend, the Pole of whom I spoke in the preceding chapter, who occupied himself mainly with _belles lettres_, was greatly delighted at my conversion. I used to dispute with him the utility of these studies; and once, when he was reading to me as a model of vigour in expression a pa.s.sage of the Psalms, in which King David shows himself a master in cursing, I interrupted him with the words, "What sort of an art is this?

Why, my mother-in-law--G.o.d bless her!--when she was squabbling with a neighbour woman, used to curse much more wildly than that!"