Hebraism and Universalism in Hebrew Literature

Mr. [Israel Ḥayim] Taviov says: “Those who vehemently demand a large and broad literature in the Hebrew language, comprising all branches of wisdom and science—they are the ultranationalists of the first order! They want to make Israel a nation that dwells apart, one that does not depend on the opinions of others. They are the ones who counsel that we fill the pit from its own diggings.”¹

How people differ in their views! A person such as myself thinks just the opposite of this, that only those who wish to banish general topics from Hebrew literature, and who want Hebrew literature to be confined to a narrow domain, to deal only with matters of “the Jewish world”—they are the ultranationalists of the first order, who want to make the Jewish people a reclusive nation that is not dependent on the opinions of others; they are the ones who counsel that we fill the pit from its own diggings (that it is the fount of wisdom for each nation to draw on its own literature). They are the true chauvinists, who find no equal among any other nation or language. On the other hand, those who want Hebrew literature to contain not only belles-lettres and poetry but also wisdom and knowledge, those who want to import into the Jewish camp from outside the select works of the sages and scholars of general literature, they at any rate are not chauvinists and reactionaries, and they do not want Israel to be a reclusive nation. [ . . . ]

As for the poverty of the Hebrew language required for scientific terminology, you should consider that the word does not create the idea, but the reverse. As we use our language for scientific matters, its poverty will diminish bit by bit, and with the passing of time it will become a rich language like any other. But if we agree with Mr. Taviov that the fact that Hebrew is not a spoken language would be an obstacle to creating a scientific literature, I fail to see the difference in this regard between belles-lettres and scientific literature. [ . . . ]

Behold—diligent translators have come forward and have graced the world with the works of the Russian authors [Alexander] Pushkin and [Mikhail] Lermontov, [Ivan] Turgenev and [Leo] Tolstoy; and the Polish authors [Adam] Mickiewicz, [Józef] Kraszewski, and [Henryk] Sienkiewicz. Other translators like them came and graced us with the artistic achievements of the Hungarian authors [Sándor] Petőfi and [Mór] Jókai; the Czech authors Janko [Kráľ] and [Frantisek] Čelakovský; the Danes [Adam Gottlob] Oehlenschläger, [Ludvig] Holberg, [Hans Christian] Andersen, and [Georg] Brandes; and the Norwegians [Bjørnstjerne] Bjørnson and Ibsen; and others. Mr. Taviov may rest assured that had these great authors had been born Jewish and written in Hebrew, they would not have been strangers to the “outside” world, and their works would not “be consigned to darkness,”² for there would be no lack of translators from Hebrew, for it is known that Christians study the Hebrew language and its literature. There were times when many gentile scholars occupied themselves with the study of Hebrew literature in its original language; indeed, in our own day many Christians learn the Hebrew language in order to read their holy scriptures in the original. If our contemporary Hebrew literature were of high quality, it would certainly not be ignored; and we do not lack Hebrew translators who could serve as intermediaries between Hebrew and European literature. In our generation, the generation of the steam engine and electricity [ . . . ]. It is surprising to me that Mr. Taviov, for all his timidity, allowed the writing of Hebrew belles-lettres and had no worry about their quality [for better or for worse] being discovered in the wider world. Mr. Taviov has confessed that he does not denigrate our belles-lettristic literature. Why would he not have qualms about the greater glory that these books could impart to us, had they been written in the languages of the world? Have we not accrued some honor from the works of [Heinrich] Heine, [Berthold] Auerbach, [Leopold] Kompert, and [Karl Emil] Franzos? [ . . . ]

Indeed, we see that some have recently complained about the new Hebrew writers—and I am among them—who engage continually in universal works, panoramas of life and probing of emotions that contain no trace of sanctity or Jewishness, depicting scenes that have neither immersed in the mikveh nor feature cholent and ‘eruv tavshilin.³

And truly, it is not dependent on desire alone, for even if we agree to Mr. Taviov’s desire, we would not be able to rid Hebrew literature of its universal character. Jewish life and universal life are irrevocably commingled; the separation that Mr. Taviov wants is impossible in our age. First we are human beings, and then Jews. The universal human condition is our natural state, and our Jewishness secondary, and of course the latter always depends on the former. In the artistic task whose source is in the emotions, it is impossible to exclude this universal element. The force of emotions impels the creator to his creative task. The impressions he receives from outside are also beyond his conscious control, and they must necessarily burst forth to find expression in fleshed-out pictures and forms. Now you come to chastise the creative artist for giving place in his descriptions to general lines that do not pertain to what is Jewish—by your narrow eye and limited circle of vision—and you forget that the artist’s work proceeds by way of necessary, involuntary processes. Just as we cannot blame a person for breathing in oxygen and exhaling carbon dioxide, so we cannot blame the creative artist for taking in certain impressions from life and giving them forth to the world in the form of artistic works. Little do you know that precisely those universal impressions that are suspect in your eyes are the stronger ones that will arouse the artist’s excitement and imagination. Furthermore, if it were within the artist’s ability to fashion the types that you approve, Jewish types but devoid of humanity, they would be only caricatures. A Jewish soul without the universal personality traits and emotions common to all people is not a living soul. [ . . . ]

But let us concede that Mr. Taviov was right in his judgment of the Hebrew language, that it had ceased to be the language of the Jews. In that case, I would request that he take one more step and derive the logical consequence that one should no longer write in Hebrew at all, and that Jews should only use the languages of their lands of residence for purposes of literature. Then even if his judgment would not find favor among the nationally-minded Jews in our midst, it would at least be logical. But there is no more ludicrous view than that Jews should maintain two literary languages in each country—Hebrew and the vernacular—the one for sacred matters and the other for secular subjects. We can only imagine what opinion our younger generation, educated in European culture, would have of the Hebrew language, if its literature were stunted and unnatural in this manner, knowing that everything dealing with the general world was to be sought only in the vernacular languages.