CHAPTER XXVIII.

Fourth Journey to Berlin--Unfortunate Circumstances--Help--Study of Kant's Writings--Characteristic of my own Works.

When I came to Berlin, Mendelssohn was no longer in life,[61] and my former friends were determined to know nothing more of me. I did not know therefore what to do. In the greatest distress I received a visit from Herr Bendavid, who told me that he had heard of my unfortunate circumstances, and had collected a small sum of about thirty thalers, which he gave to me. Besides, he introduced me to a Herr Jojard, an enlightened and high-minded man, who received me in a very friendly manner, and made some provision for my support. A certain professor, indeed, tried to do me an ill turn with this worthy man by denouncing me as an atheist; but in spite of this I gradually got on so well, that I was able to hire a lodging in a garret from an old woman.

I had now resolved to study Kant's _Kritik of Pure Reason_, of which I had often heard but which I had never seen yet.[62] The method, in which I studied this work, was quite peculiar. On the first perusal I obtained a vague idea of each section. This I endeavoured afterwards to make distinct by my own reflection, and thus to penetrate into the author's meaning. Such is properly the process which is called _thinking oneself into a system_. But as I had already mastered in this way the systems of Spinoza, Hume and Leibnitz, I was naturally led to think of a coalition-system. This in fact I found, and I put it gradually in writing in the form of explanatory observations on the _Kritik of Pure Reason_, just as this system unfolded itself to my mind. Such was the origin of my _Transcendental Philosophy_. Consequently this book must be difficult to understand for the man who, owing to the inflexible character of his thinking, has made himself at home merely in one of these systems without regard to any other. Here the important problem, _Quid juris?_ with the solution of which the _Kritik_ is occupied, is wrought out in a much wider sense than that in which it is taken by Kant; and by this means there is plenty of scope left for Hume's scepticism in its full force. But on the other side the complete solution of this problem leads either to Spinozistic or to Leibnitzian dogmatism.

When I had finished this work, I showed it to Marcus Herz.[63] He acknowledged that he was reckoned among the most eminent disciples of Kant, and that he had given the most assiduous application while attending Kant's philosophical lectures, as may indeed be seen from his writings, but that yet he was not in a position to pass a judgment on the _Kritik_ itself or on any other work relating to it. He advised me, however, to send my manuscript directly to Kant himself, and submit it to his judgment, while he promised to accompany it with a letter to the great philosopher. Accordingly I wrote to Kant, sending him my work, and enclosing the letter from Herz. A good while passed, however, before an answer came. At length Herz received a reply, in which, among other things, Kant said:--

"But what were you thinking about, my dear friend, when you sent me a big packet containing the most subtle researches, not only to read through, but to think out thoroughly, while I am still, in my sixty-sixth year, burdened with a vast amount of labour in completion of my plan! Part of this labour is to furnish the last part of the _Kritik_,--that, namely, on the Faculty of Judgment,--which is soon to appear; part is to work out my system of the Metaphysic of Nature, as well as the Metaphysic of Ethics, in accordance with the requirements of the _Kritik_. Moreover, I am kept incessantly busy with a multitude of letters requiring special explanations on particular points; and, in addition to all this, my health is frail. I had already made up my mind to send back the manuscript with an excuse so well justified on all these grounds; but a glance at it soon enabled me to recognise its merits, and to show, not only that none of my opponents had understood me and the main problem so well, but that very few could claim so much penetration as Herr Maimon in profound inquiries of this sort. This induced me...," and so on.

In another passage of the letter Kant says:--"Herr Maimon's work contains moreover so many acute observations, that he cannot give it to the public without its producing an impression strongly in his favour." In a letter to myself he said:--"Your esteemed request I have endeavoured to comply with as far as was possible for me; and if I have not gone the length of passing a judgment on the whole of your treatise, you will gather the reason from my letter to Herr Herz. Certainly it arises from no feeling of disparagement, which I entertain for no earnest effort in rational inquiries that interest mankind, and least of all for such an effort as yours, which, in point of fact, betrays no common talent for the profounder sciences."

It may easily be imagined how important and agreeable to me the approbation of this great thinker must have been, and especially his testimony that I had understood him well. For there are some arrogant Kantians, who believe themselves to be sole proprietors of the Critical Philosophy, and therefore dispose of every objection, even though intended, not exactly as a refutation, but as a fuller elaboration of this philosophy, by the mere assertion without proof, that the author has failed to understand Kant. Now these gentlemen were no longer in a position to bring this charge against my book, inasmuch as, by the testimony of the founder himself of the Critical Philosophy, I have a better right than they to make use of this argument.

At this time I was living in Potsdam with a gentleman who was a leather-manufacturer. When Kant's letters arrived, I went to Berlin, and devoted my time to the publication of my _Transcendental Philosophy_. As a native of Poland I dedicated this work to the king, and carried a copy to the Polish Resident; but it was never sent, and I was put off from time to time with various excuses. _Sapienti sat!_

A copy of the work was also sent, as is usually done, to the editor of the _Allgemeine Litteraturzeitung_. After waiting a good while without any notice appearing, I wrote to the editor, and received the following answer:--"You know yourself how small is the number of those who are competent to understand and judge philosophical works. Three of the best speculative thinkers have declined to undertake the review of your book, because they are unable to penetrate into the depths of your researches. An application has been made to a fourth, from whom a favourable reply was expected; but a review from him has not yet been received."

I also began to work at this time for the _Journal für Aufklärung_. My first article was on _Truth_, and was in the form of a letter to a friend[64] in Berlin. The article was occasioned by a letter which I had received from this friend during my stay in Potsdam, and in which he wrote to me in a humorous vein, that philosophy was no longer a marketable commodity, and that therefore I ought to take advantage of the opportunity which I was enjoying to learn tanning. I replied, that philosophy is not a coinage subject to the vicissitudes of the exchange; and this proposition I afterwards developed in my article. Another article in the same periodical was on _Tropes_, in which I show that these imply the transference of a word not from one object to another that is analogous, but from a relative to its correlate. I wrote also an article on _Bacon and Kant_, in which I institute a comparison between these two reformers of philosophy. _The Soul of the World_ was the subject of another discussion in this journal, in which I endeavoured to make out, that the doctrine of one universal soul common to all animated beings has not only as much in its favour as the opposite doctrine, but that the arguments for it outweigh those on the other side. My last article in the journal referred to the plan of my _Transcendental Philosophy_; and I explain in it that, while I hold the Kantian philosophy to be irrefutable from the side of the Dogmatist, on the other hand I believe that it is exposed to all attacks from the side of the Scepticism of Hume.

A number of young Jews from all parts of Germany had, during Mendelssohn's lifetime, united to form a society under the designation, Society _for Research into the Hebrew Language_. They observed with truth, that the evil condition of our people, morally as well as politically, has its source in their religious prejudices, in their want of a rational exposition of the Holy Scriptures, and in the arbitrary exposition to which the rabbis are led by their ignorance of the Hebrew language. Accordingly the object of their society was to remove these deficiencies, to study the Hebrew language in its sources, and by that means to introduce a rational exegesis. For this purpose they resolved to publish a monthly periodical in Hebrew under the title of [Hebrew:** ], _The Collector_, which was to give expositions of difficult passages in Scripture, Hebrew poems, prose essays, translations from useful works, etc.

The intention of all this was certainly good; but that the end would scarcely be reached by any such means, I saw from the very beginning. I was too familiar with the principles of the rabbis and their style of thought to believe that such means would bring about any change. The Jewish nation is, without reference to accidental modifications, a perpetual aristocracy under the appearance of a theocracy. The learned men, who form the nobility in the nation, have been able, for many centuries, to maintain their position as the legislative body with so much authority among the common people, that they can do with them whatever they please. This high authority is a natural tribute which weakness owes to strength. For since the nation is divided into such unequal classes as the common people and the learned, and since the former, owing to the unfortunate political condition of the nation, are profoundly ignorant, not only of all useful arts and sciences, but even of the laws of their religion, on which their eternal welfare is supposed to depend, it follows that the exposition of Scripture, the deduction of religious laws from it, and the application of these to particular cases, must be surrendered wholly to the learned class which the other undertakes the cost of maintaining. The learned class seek to make up for their want of linguistic science and rational exegetics by their own ingenuity, wit and acuteness. To form an idea of the degree in which these talents are displayed, it is necessary to read the Talmud along with the commentary called _Tosaphoth_, that is, the additions to the first commentary of Rabbi Solomon Isaac.[65]

The productions of the mind are valued by them, not in proportion to their utility, but in proportion to the talent which they imply. A man who understands Hebrew, who is well versed in the Holy Scriptures, who even carries in his head the whole of the Jewish _Corpus Juris_,--and that is no trifle,--is by them but slightly esteemed. The greatest praise that they give to such a man is _Chamor Nose Sepharim_, that is, _An ass loaded with books_. But if a man is able, by his own ingenuity, to deduce new laws from those already known, to draw fine distinctions, and to detect hidden contradictions, he is almost idolised. And to tell the truth, this judgment is well founded, so far as it concerns the treatment of subjects that have no ulterior end in view.

It may therefore be easily imagined, that people of this sort will scarcely accord a hearing to an institute which aims merely at the cultivation of taste, the study of language, or any similar object, which to them appears mere trifling. Yet these are not the few educated men, scattered here and there,--the steersmen of this ship which is driven about in all seas. All men of enlightened minds, it does not matter how much taste or knowledge they possess, are treated by them as imbeciles. And why? Simply because they have not studied the Talmud to that extent, and in the manner, which they require. Mendelssohn was in some measure esteemed by them on this account, because in point of fact he was a good Talmudist.

I was therefore neither for, nor against, this monthly periodical; I even contributed to it at times Hebrew articles. Among these I will mention merely one,--an exposition of an obscure passage in the commentary of Maimonides on the Mishnah, which I interpreted by the Kantian philosophy. The article was afterwards translated into German, and inserted in the _Berlinische Monatsschrift_.

Some time after this I received from this society, which now calls itself the _Society for the Promotion of all that is Noble and Good_, a commission to write a Hebrew commentary on the celebrated work of Maimonides, _Moreh Nebhochim_. This commission I undertook with pleasure, and the work was soon done. So far, however, only a part of the commentary has as yet appeared. The preface to the work may be considered as a brief history of philosophy.

I had been an adherent of all philosophical systems in succession, Peripatetic, Spinozist, Leibnitzian, Kantian, and finally Sceptic; and I was always devoted to that system, which for the time I regarded as alone true. At last I observed that all these systems contain something true, and are in certain respects equally useful. But, as the difference of philosophical systems depends on the ideas which lie at their foundation in regard to the objects of nature, their properties and modifications, which cannot, like the ideas of mathematics, be defined in the same way by all men, and presented _a priori_, I determined to publish for my own use, as well as for the advantage of others, a philosophical dictionary, in which all philosophical ideas should be defined in a somewhat free method, that is, without attachment to any particular system, but either by an explanation common to all, or by several explanations from the point of view of each. Of this work also only the first part has as yet appeared.

In the popular German monthly already mentioned, the _Berlinische Monatsschrift_, various articles of mine were inserted, on Deceit, on the Power of Foreseeing, on Theodicy, and other subjects. On Empirical Psychology also I contributed various articles, and at last became associated with Herr Hofrath Moritz in the editorship of the periodical.[66]

So much with regard to the events which have occurred in my life, and the communication of which, I thought, might be not without use. I have not yet reached the haven of rest; but--

/p "Quo fata trahunt retrahuntque sequamur." p/

CONCLUDING CHAPTER.

The closing words of the Autobiography themselves awaken the desire to know the sequel of the author's life, and it seems therefore appropriate to finish the narrative by the sketch of a few facts derived mainly from the little volume of _Maimoniana_, to which reference has been made in the preface.

It is perhaps scarcely necessary to state that Maimon's life to the very end continued to retain the stamp it bore throughout the whole period described in the preceding chapters. That stamp had apparently been impressed on it even before he left Poland; and the Western influences, under which he came in Germany, never altered essentially the character he brought with him from home.

Even in its external features his life enjoyed no permanent improvement. Fate had indeed been somewhat hard upon a man of so much genuine culture and sensibility. Still the chronic poverty, which filled the largest cup of suffering in his life, was due not wholly to circumstances: it was partly his own nature or habits that kept him a pauper. This is all the more remarkable, that there is perhaps no work of moral or religious instruction which attaches more importance than the Talmud to industrial pursuits.[67] Saturated as his mind was with Talmudic lore, and disciplined as his early years had been by Talmudic training, Maimon could not be ignorant of the advantage which the spiritual life derives from financial independence on others; and it might therefore have been expected of him that, like many of the great rabbis, and Spinoza and Mendelssohn too, he would have devoted himself to some remunerative occupation, however humble. This would not have been impossible even in Poland, where the Jews were subject to no disability excluding them from the common industries of the country; and from the Autobiography it appears that, even at an early period of his life, he was more than half aware that his poverty was due, not wholly to the imperious demands of a higher culture, but to a somewhat selfish indolence.[68] In Germany, with its more advanced civilisation, it would have been much less difficult for him to make a tolerable living at some employment. The Autobiography shows that he was very generously received by a large circle of influential friends, who took a great deal of pains to secure for him a position of independence, and that they abandoned their effort only when they found it in vain. From the _Maimoniana_ also it appears that some of the most eminent men of his time continued to tender their friendly services. Among others, Plattner, Schultze (Aenesidemus), and even Goethe, made advances towards Maimon in a way that was not only very flattering, but might have been very helpful, if he had so chosen.[69] But he never got rid of the habit, which he had acquired in Poland, of depending on others; and the low standard of comfort, to which he had accustomed himself, left him without sufficient stimulus to seek an escape from his pauperised condition.

His condition, therefore, never improved. He continued during his later years to work at various literary employments; but the remuneration he obtained for these was never sufficient for his subsistence. His works appealed to a very limited public. He had consequently often to go a-begging for a publisher, and to content himself with what slight honorarium the reluctant publishers chose to give.[70] The literary hack-work, of which he was obliged to do a good deal, brought him no better return. That sort of labour was probably as poorly paid in Berlin at the time as in the Grub Street of last century. He was therefore at times reduced to utter beggary. Many of his earlier friends, as appears from the Autobiography, had lost patience with him; and some, who had helped him before, when he was forced by sheer starvation to apply to them afterwards, treated him as a common beggar, dismissing him with a copper in charity (_Zehrpfennig_), and at times with unnecessarily cold, even insulting language.[71] If we add to this the fact, that his irregular habits often made him the victim of unscrupulous men,[72] it will not seem surprising that he sometimes fell into a bitter tone and harsh judgments about his friends,[73] or that he was apt occasionally to burst out into pretty strong language of general misanthropy.[74]

Perhaps Maimon might have risen out of the chronic destitution, to which he seemed doomed, if he had cultivated in any degree the virtue of thrift. But thriftlessness, as the Autobiography shows, had been an hereditary vice in his family, at least for two generations before him; and though he gives vivid pictures of its pitiable results in the households of his grandfather and father, he never made any effort to rise above it himself. Whenever he obtained any remuneration for his work, instead of husbanding it economically till he obtained more, he usually squandered it at once in extravagancies, often of a useless, sometimes of a reprehensible kind.[75] He points out in his first chapter, that his grandfather might have been a rich man if he had kept accounts of income and expenditure. But his friend Wolff, has to confess that, good mathematician as Maimon was, he never seemed to think of the difference between _plus_ and _minus_ in money-matters.[76] With such a character one of Maimon's friends was not far from the truth, when on a fresh application for assistance, he dismissed him, too harshly perhaps, with the blunt remark, "People like you there is no use in trying to help."[77] Certainly help was not to be found in Maimon himself, and it is difficult to see how he could have avoided the chance of a miserable death by actual starvation, had it not been that a generous home was at last opened to him, where he closed his days in comfort and peace.

A character like that of Maimon implied a general irregularity of life,--an absence of that regulation by fixed rules of conduct, which is essential to wellbeing. He was not indeed unaware of the importance of such regularity. "I require of every man of sound mind," he said one day, "that he should lay out for himself a plan of action." No wonder that this requirement leads his friend to remark, that it seemed to him as if Maimon's only plan of life had been to live without any plan at all.[78]

The irregularity of his habits is strikingly seen in his want of method even at his literary work. Notwithstanding the technical culture he gave himself in early life in drawing, he seems never to have reached any degree of muscular expertness. Wolff remarked his awkwardness in handling his pen, and his inability to fold a letter with tolerable neatness.[79] In other respects also he was careless about those mechanical conveniences by which mental work is usually facilitated. He was commonly to be seen working at a very unsteady desk, one leg of which was supported by a folio volume.[80] He did not even confine himself to any particular place for work. Apparently he spent more of his day in public taverns than in his private lodging, and he might often be seen amid the distraction of such surroundings writing or revising proofs, while, as a consequence, his papers sometimes were mislaid and lost, and his work had all to be done over again. It was said of the Autobiography itself that it had been written on an alehouse bench.[81] He could never understand how any man could do intellectual work by rule; and therefore, though he had to make his living as best he could by literature, he never formed the habit of reserving one part of the day for work. He commonly worked in the morning, at least in _his_ morning, and that, his friend acknowledges, was not very early;[82] but this itself was evidently no fixed rule. Probably for the same reason he never adopted the plan, which authors find so serviceable, of first sketching an outline of a work before it is written out in detail. "I have," he said one day, "given up, with good result, the habit of making a draught beforehand. You are not, by a long way, so careful about your work when you know that you are going to write it over again; you neglect many a thought, do not write it down, because you believe that it will occur to you again in copying out, which frequently does not happen."[83] It is clear, however, that, his opinion to the contrary notwithstanding, his writings suffered from his unmethodical habits. "The fact," says the most competent of judges on this subject, "that Maimon is far from having attained the recognition which his importance deserves, may be accounted for by the defective condition of his writings. His extraordinary acuteness was designed, but was not sufficiently cultivated, to give to his investigations the light and the force of methodical exposition. He wrote with most pleasure in his Talmudic fashion, commenting and disputing, without proper sifting and arrangement of his materials. To these defects must be added the faults of his style. It is surprising that he learned to write German as he