Sorrow and suffering are not endless. A new day broke for the Jews. The
walls of the Ghetto fell, dry bones joined each other for new life, and
a fresh spirit passed over the House of Israel.
Enervation and decadence
were succeeded by regeneration, quickened by the spirit of the times, by
the ideas of freedom and equality universally advocated.
The forces
which culminated in their revival had existed as germs in the preceding
century. Silently they had grown, operating through every spiritual
medium, poetry, oratory, philosophy, political agitation. In the
sunshine of the eighteenth century they finally matured, and at its
close the rejuvenation of the Jewish race was an accomplished fact in
every European country. Eagerly its sons entered into the new
intellectual and literary movements of the nations permitted to enjoy
another period of efflorescence, and Jewish humor has conquered a place
for itself in modern literature.
Our brief journey through the realm of love and humor must certainly
convince us that in sunny days humor rarely, love never, forsook Israel.
Our old itinerant preachers (_Maggidim_), strolling from town to town,
were in the habit of closing their sermons with a parable (_Mashai_),
which opened the way to exhortation. The manner of our fathers
recommends itself to me, and following in their footsteps, I venture to
close my pilgrimage through the ages with a _Mashal_. It transports us
to the sunny Orient, to the little seaport town of Jabneh, about six
miles from Jerusalem, in the time immediately succeeding the destruction
of the Temple. Thither with a remnant of his disciples, Jochanan ben
Zakkaï, one of the wisest of our rabbis, fled to escape the misery
incident to the downfall of Jerusalem. He knew that the Temple would
never again rise from its ashes. He knew as well that the essence of
Judaism has no organic connection with the Temple or the Holy City. He
foresaw that its mission is to spread abroad among the nations of the
earth, and of this future he spoke to the disciples gathered about him
in the academy at Jabneh. We can imagine him asking them to define the
fundamental principle of Judaism, and receiving a multiplicity of
answers, varying with the character and temper of the young
missionaries. To one, possibly, Judaism seemed to rest upon faith in
God, to another upon the Sabbath, to a third upon the _Torah_, to a
fourth upon the Decalogue. Such views could not have satisfied the
spiritual cravings of the aged teacher. When Jochanan ben Zakkaï rises
to give utterance to his opinion, we feel as though the narrow walls of
the academy at Jabneh were miraculously widening out to enclose the
world, while the figure of the venerable rabbi grows to the noble
proportions of a divine seer, whose piercing eye rends the veil of
futurity, and reads the remote verdict of history: "My disciples, my
friends, the fundamental principle of Judaism is love!"
THE JEWISH STAGE
Perhaps no people has held so peculiar a position with regard to the
drama as the Jews. Little more than two centuries have passed since a
Jewish poet ventured to write a drama, and now, if division by race be
admissible in literary matters, Jews indisputably rank among the first
of those interested in the drama, both in its composition and
presentation.
Originally, the Hebrew mind felt no attraction towards the drama. Hebrew
poetry attained to neither dramatic nor epic creations, because the
all-pervading monotheistic principle of the nation paralyzed the free
and easy marshalling of gods and heroes of the Greek drama.
Nevertheless, traces of dramatic poetry appear in the oldest literature.
The "Song of Songs" by many is regarded as a dramatic idyl in seven
scenes, with Shulammith as the heroine, and the king, the ostensible
author, as the hero. But this and similar efforts are only faint
approaches to dramatic composition, inducing no imitations.
Greek and Roman theatrical representations, the first they knew, must
have awakened lively interest in the Jews. It was only after Alexander
the Great's triumphal march through the East, and the establishment of
Roman supremacy over Judæa, that a foothold was gained in Palestine by
the institutions called theatre by the ancients; that is, _stadia_;
circuses for wrestling, fencing, and combats between men and animals;
and the stage for tragedies and other plays. To the horror of pious
zealots, the Jewish Hellenists, in other words, Jews imbued with the
secular culture of the day, built a gymnasium for the wrestling and
fencing contests of the Jewish youth of Jerusalem, soon to be further
defiled by the circus and the _stadium_. According to Flavius Josephus,
Herod erected a theatre at Jerusalem twenty-eight years before the
present era, and in the vicinity of the city, an amphitheatre where
Greek players acted, and sang to the accompaniment of the lyre or flute.
The first, and at his time probably the only, Jewish dramatist was the
Greek poet Ezekielos (Ezekiel), who flourished in about 150 before the
common era. In his play, "The Exodus from Egypt,"
modelled after
Euripides, Moses, as we know him in the Bible, is the hero. Otherwise
the play is thoroughly Hellenic, showing the Greek tendency to become
didactic and reflective and use the heroes of sacred legend as human
types. Besides, two fragments of Jewish-Hellenic dramas, in trimeter
verse, have come down to us, the one treating of the unity of God, the
other of the serpent in Paradise.
To the mass of the Jewish people, particularly to the expounders and
scholars of the Law, theatrical performances seemed a desecration, a
sin. A violent struggle ensued between the _Beth ha-Midrash_ and the
stage, between the teachers of the Law and lovers of art, between
Rabbinism and Hellenism. Mindful of Bible laws inculcating humanity to
beasts and men, the rabbis could not fail to deprecate gladiatorial
contests, and in their simple-mindedness they must have revolted from
the themes of the Greek playwright, dishonesty, violence triumphant, and
conjugal infidelity being then as now favorite subjects of dramatic
representations. The immorality of the stage was, if possible, more
conspicuous in those days than in ours.
This was the point of view assumed by the rabbis in their exhortations
to the people, and a conspiracy against King Herod was the result. The
plotters one evening appeared at the theatre, but their designs were
frustrated by the absence of the king and his suite. The plot betrayed
itself, and one of the members of the conspiracy was seized and torn
into pieces by the mob. The most uncompromising rabbis pronounced a
curse over frequenters of the theatre, and raised abstinence from its
pleasures to the dignity of a meritorious action, inasmuch as it was the
scene of idolatrous practices, and its _habitués_
violated the
admonition contained in the first verse of the psalms.
"Cursed be they
who visit the theatre and the circus, and despise our laws," one of them
exclaims.[55] Another interprets the words of the prophet: "I sat not in
the assembly of the mirthful, and was rejoiced," by the prayer: "Lord of
the universe, never have I visited a theatre or a circus to enjoy
myself in the company of scorners."
Despite rampant antagonism, the stage worked its way into the affection
and consideration of the Jewish public, and we hear of Jewish youths
devoting themselves to the drama and becoming actors.
Only one has come
down to us by name: the celebrated Alityros in Rome, the favorite of
Emperor Nero and his wife Poppæa. Josephus speaks of him as "a player,
and a Jew, well favored by Nero." When the Jewish historian landed at
Puteoli, a captive, Alityros presented him to the empress, who secured
his liberation. Beyond a doubt, the Jewish _beaux esprits_ of Rome
warmly supported the theatre; indeed, Roman satirists levelled their
shafts against the zeal displayed in the service of art by Jewish
patrons.
A reaction followed. Theatrical representations were pursued by Talmudic
Judaism with the same bitter animosity as by Christianity. Not a matter
of surprise, if account is taken of the licentiousness of the stage, so
depraved as to evoke sharp reproof even from a Cicero, and the hostility
of playwrights to Jews and Christians, whom they held up as a butt for
the ridicule of the Roman populace. Talmudic literature has preserved
several examples of the buffooneries launched against Judaism. Rabbi
Abbayu tells the following:[56] A camel covered with a mourning blanket
is brought upon the stage, and gives rise to a conversation. "Why is
the camel trapped in mourning?" "Because the Jews, who are observing the
sabbatical year, abstain from vegetables, and refuse to eat even herbs.
They eat only thistles, and the camel is mourning because he is deprived
of his favorite food."
Another time a buffoon appears on the stage with head shaved close. "Why
is the clown mourning?" "Because oil is so dear." "Why is oil dear?" "On
account of the Jews. On the Sabbath day they consume everything they
earn during the week. Not a stick of wood is left to make fire whereby
to cook their meals. They are forced to burn their beds for fuel, and
sleep on the floor at night. To get rid of the dirt, they use an immense
quantity of oil. Therefore, oil is dear, and the clown cannot grease his
hair with pomade." Certainly no one will deny that the patrons of the
Roman theatre were less critical than a modern audience.
Teachers of the Law had but one answer to make to such attacks--a
rigorous injunction against theatre-going. On this subject rabbis and
Church Fathers were of one mind. The rabbi's declaration, that he who
enters a circus commits murder, is offspring of the same holy zeal that
dictates Tertullian's solemn indignation: "In no respect, neither by
speaking, nor by seeing, nor by hearing, have we part in the mad antics
of the circus, the obscenity of the theatre, or the abominations of the
arena." Such expressions prepare one for the passion of another
remonstrant who, on a Sabbath, explained to his audience that
earthquakes are the signs of God's fierce wrath when He looks down upon
earth, and sees theatres and circuses flourish, while His sanctuary lies
in ruins.[57]
Anathemas against the stage were vain. One teacher of the Law, in the
middle of the second century, went so far as to permit attendance at the
circus and the _stadium_ for the very curious reason that the spectator
may haply render assistance to the charioteers in the event of an
accident on the race track, or may testify to their death at court, and
thus enable their widows to marry again. Another pious rabbi expresses
the hope that theatres and circuses at Rome at some future time may "be
converted into academies of virtue and morality."
Such liberal views were naturally of extremely rare occurrence. Many
centuries passed before Jews in general were able to overcome antipathy
to the stage and all connected with it. Pagan Rome with its artistic
creations was to sink, and the new Christian drama, springing from the
ruins of the old theatre, but making the religious its central idea, was
to develop and invite imitation before the first germ of interest in
dramatic subjects ventured to show itself in Jewish circles. The first
Jewish contribution to the drama dates from the ninth century. The story
of Haman, arch-enemy of the Jews, was dramatized in celebration of
_Purim_, the Jewish carnival. The central figure was Haman's effigy
which was burnt, amid song, music, and general merrymaking, on a small
pyre, over which the participants jumped a number of times in gleeful
rejoicing over the downfall of their worst enemy--
extravagance
pardonable in a people which, on every other day of the year, tottered
under a load of distress and oppression.
This dramatic effort was only a sporadic phenomenon.
Real, uninterrupted
participation in dramatic art by Jews cannot be recorded until fully six
hundred years later. Meantime the Spanish drama, the first to adapt
Bible subjects to the uses of the stage, had reached its highest
development. By reason of its choice of subjects it proved so attractive
to Jews that scarcely fifty years after the appearance of the first
Spanish-Jewish playwright, a Spanish satirist deplores, in cutting
verse, the Judaizing of dramatic poetry. In fact, the first original
drama in Spanish literature, the celebrated _Celestina_, is attributed
to a Jew, the Marrano Rodrigo da Cota. "Esther," the first distinctly
Jewish play in Spanish, was written in 1567 by Solomon Usque in Ferrara
in collaboration with Lazaro Graziano. The subject treated centuries
before in a roughshod manner naturally suggested itself to a genuine
dramatist, who chose it in order to invest it with the dignity conferred
by poetic art. This first essay in the domain of the Jewish drama was
followed by a succession of dramatic creations by Jews, who, exiled from
Spain, cherished the memory of their beloved country, and, carrying to
their new homes in Italy and Holland, love for its language and
literature, wrote all their works, dramas included, in Spanish after
Spanish models. So fruitful was their activity that shortly after the
exile we hear of a "Jewish Calderon," the author of more than twenty-two
plays, some long held to be the work of Calderon himself, and therefore
received with acclamation in Madrid. The real author, whose place in
Spanish literature is assured, was Antonio Enriquez di Gomez, a Marrano,
burnt in effigy at Seville after his escape from the clutches of the
Inquisition. His dramas in part deal with biblical subjects. Samson is
obviously the mouthpiece of his own sentiments:
"O God, my God, the time draws quickly nigh!
Now let a ray of thy great strength descend!
Make firm my hand to execute the deed That alien rule upon our soil shall end!"
Towards the end of the seventeenth century, the Portuguese language
usurped the place of Spanish among Jews, and straightway we hear of a
Jewish dramatist, Antonio Jose de Silva (1705-1739), one of the most
illustrious of Portuguese poets, whose dramas still hold their own on
the repertory of the Portuguese stage. He was burnt at the stake, a
martyr to his faith, which he solemnly confessed in the hour of his
execution: "I am a follower of a faith God-given according to your own
teachings. God once loved this religion. I believe He still loves it,
but because you maintain that He no longer turns upon it the light of
His countenance, you condemn to death those convinced that God has not
withdrawn His grace from what He once favored." It is by no means an
improbable combination of circumstances that on the evening of the day
whereon Antonio Jose de Silva expired at the stake, an operetta written
by the victim himself was played at the great theatre of Lisbon in
celebration of the auto-da-fé.
Jewish literature as such derived little increase from this poetic
activity among Jews. In the period under discussion a single Hebrew
drama was produced which can lay claim to somewhat more praise than is
the due of mediocrity. _Asireh ha-Tikwah_, "The Prisoners of Hope,"
printed in 1673, deserves notice because it was the first drama
published in Hebrew, and its author, Joseph Pensa de la Vega, was the
last of Spanish, as Antonio de Silva was the last of Portuguese, Jewish
poets. The three act play is an allegory, treating of the victory of
free-will, represented by a king, over evil inclinations, personified by
the handsome lad Cupid. Though imbued with the solemnity of his
responsibilities as a ruler, the king is lured from the path of right by
various persons and circumstances, chief among them Cupid, his
coquettish queen, and his sinful propensities. The opposing good forces
are represented by the figures of harmony, Providence, and truth, and
they eventually lead the erring wanderer back to the road of salvation.
The _dramatis personæ_ of this first Hebrew drama are abstractions,
devoid of dramatic life, mere allegorical personifications, but the
underlying idea is poetic, and the Hebrew style pure, euphonious, and
rhythmical. Yet it is impossible to echo the enthusiasm which greeted
the work of the seventeen year old author in the Jewish academies of
Holland. Twenty-one poets sang its praises in Latin, Hebrew, and Spanish
verse. The following couplet may serve as a specimen of their eulogies:
"At length Israel's muse assumes the tragic cothurn, And happily wends her way through the metre's mazes."
Pensa, though the first to publish, was not the first Hebrew dramatist
to write. The distinction of priority belongs to Moses Zacuto, who wrote
his Hebrew play, _Yesod Olam_[58] ("The Foundation of the World") a
quarter of a century earlier. His subject is the persecution inflicted
by idolaters upon Abraham on account of his faith, and the groundwork is
the Haggadistic narrative about Abraham's bold opposition to idolatrous
practices, and his courage even unto death in the service of the true
God. According to Talmudic interpretation a righteous character of this
description is one of the corner-stones of the universe.
It must be
admitted that Zacuto's work is a drama with a purpose.
The poet wished
to fortify his exiled, harassed people with the inspiration and hope
that flow from the contemplation of a strong, bold personality. But the
admission does not detract from the genuine merits of the poem. On the
other hand, this first dramatic effort naturally is crude, lacking in
the poetic forms supplied by highly developed art.
Dialogues, prayers,
and choruses follow each other without regularity, and in varying
metres, not destitute, however, of poetic sentiment and lyric beauties.
Often the rhythm rises to a high degree of excellence, even elevation.
Like Pensa, Zacuto was the disciple of great masters, and a comparison
of either with Lope de Vega and Calderon will reveal the same southern
warmth, stilted pathos, exuberance of fancy, wealth of imagery,
excessive playing upon words, peculiar turns and phrases, erratic style,
and other qualities characteristic of Spanish dramatic poetry in that
period.
Another century elapsed before the muse of the Hebrew drama escaped from
leading strings. Moses Chayyim Luzzatto (1707-1747) of Padua was a poet
of true dramatic gifts, and had he lived at another time he might have
attained to absolute greatness of performance.
Unluckily, the
sentimental, impressionable youth became hopelessly enmeshed in the
snares of mysticism. In his seventeenth year he composed a biblical
drama, "Samson and the Philistines," the preserved fragments of which
are faultless in metre. His next effort was an allegorical drama,
_Migdal Oz_ ("Tower of Victory"), the style and moral of which show
unmistakable signs of Italian inspiration, derived particularly from
Guarini and his _Pastor Fido_, models not wholly commendable at a time
when Maffei's _Merope_ was exerting wholesome influence upon the Italian
drama in the direction of simplicity and dignity.
Nothing, however,
could wean Luzzatto from adherence to Spanish-Italian romanticism. His
happiest creation is the dramatic parable, _Layesharim Tehillah_
("Praise unto the Righteous!"). The poetry of the Bible here celebrates
its resurrection. The rhythm and exuberance of the Psalms are reproduced
in the tone and color of its language. "All the fragrant flowers of
biblical poetry are massed in a single bed. Yet the language is more
than a mosaic of biblical phrases. It is an enamel of the most superb
and the rarest of elegant expressions in the Bible. The peculiarities of
the historical writings are carefully avoided, while all modifications
of style peculiar to poetry are gathered together to constitute what may
fairly be called a vocabulary of poetic diction."[59]
The allegory _Layesharim Tehillah_ is full of charming traits, but lacks
warmth, naturalness, and human interest, the indispensable elements of
dramatic action. The first act treats of the iniquity of men who prize
deceit beyond virtue, and closes with the retirement of the pious sage
to solitude. The second act describes the hopes of the righteous man and
his fate, and the third sounds the praise of truth and justice. The
thread of the story is slight, and the characters are pale phantoms,
instead of warm-blooded men. Yet the work must be pronounced a gem of
neo-Hebraic poetry, an earnest of the great creations its author might
have produced, if in early youth he had not been caught in the swirling
waters, and dragged down into the abysmal depths of Kabbalistic
mysticism. Despite his vagaries his poems were full of suggestiveness
and stimulation to many of his race, who were inspired to work along the
lines laid down by him. He may be considered to have inaugurated another
epoch of classical Hebrew literature, interpenetrated with the modern
spirit, which the Jewish dramas of his day are vigorously successful in
clothing in a Hebrew garb.
In the popular literature in Jewish-German growing up almost unnoticed
beside classical Hebrew literature, we find popular plays, comedies,
chiefly farces for the _Purim_ carnival. The first of them, "The Sale of
Joseph" (_Mekirath Yoseph_, 1710), treats the biblical narrative in the
form and spirit of the German farcical clown dialogues, Pickelhering
(Merry-Andrew), borrowed from the latter, being Potiphar's servant and
counsellor. No dramatic or poetic value of any kind attaches to the
play. It is as trivial as any of its models, the German clown comedies,
and possesses interest only as an index to the taste of the public,
which surely received it with delight. Strangely enough the principal
scene between Joseph and Selicha, Potiphar's wife, is highly discreet.
In a monologue, she gives passionate utterance to her love. Then Joseph
appears, and she addresses him thus:
"Be welcome, Joseph, dearest one, My slave who all my heart has won!
I beg of thee grant my request!
So oft have I to thee confessed,
My love for thee is passing great.
In vain for answering love I wait.
Have not so tyrannous a mind,
Be not so churlish, so unkind--
I bear thee such affection, see,
Why wilt thou not give love to me?"
Joseph answers:
"I owe my lady what she asks,
Yet this is not among my tasks.
I pray, my mistress, change thy mind; Thou canst so many like me find.
How could I dare transgress my state, And my great trust so violate?
My lord hath charged me with his house, Excepting only his dear spouse;
Yet she, it seems, needs watching too.
Now, mistress, fare thee well, adieu!"
Selicha then says:
"O heaven now what shall I do?
He'll list not to my vows so true.
Come, Pickelhering, tell me quick,
What I shall do his love to prick?
I'll die if I no means can find
To bend his humor to my mind.
I'll give the