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Psychobiographical 
Methodology: 

THE  CASE  OF  WILLIAM  JAMES 


JAMES  WILLIAM  ANDERSON 


James  William  Anderson  is  Visiting  Lecturer  ir  the  Division  of  Psychology,  Depart- 
ment of  Psychiatry,  Northwestern  LIniversity  Medical  School  in  Chicago.  He  has 
written  articles  on  the  psychobiographical  study  of  the  James  family,  the  political 
Personality  of  Woodrow  Wilson,  and  psycho biograpliical  methodology. 


N. 


o  enterprise  involving  psychology— with  the  possible  exception  of 
brain-washing— receives  as  much  criticism  as  psychoWography  (see,  e.g., 
Barzun,  1974;  Coles,  1973;  Crews,  1980;  Himmelfarb,  1975;  Staniiard, 
1980).*  But  those  who  Champion  psychobiography  have  to  admit  that  the 
bulk  of  the  criticism  is  richly  descrved;  studies  in  this  area  regularly 
transgress  the  Standards  of  either  psychology  or  history  or  of  both  those 
disciplines. 

Before  undertaking  a  psychobiographical  study  of  William  James's 
young  adulthood  (Anderson,  1980),  I  wrote  a  review  of  the  methodo- 
logical  Uterature  (Anderson,  1981).  I  described  the  central  difficulties 
which,  according  to  the  literature,  psycho  biographers  encounter,  discussed 
the  suggestions  which  scholars  have  made  for  minimizing  these  difficulties, 
and  proposed  a  strategy  for  my  investigation  of  James's  life.  But,  of 
course,  I  discovered  what  experimental  researchers  have  long  known;  itis 
far  casier  to  design  a  strategy  than  to  execute  it. 


245 


246 


Psychobiographical  Methodology 


This  review  is  a  reexaminalion  of  psychobiographical  methodology  in 
the  light  of  what  1  learned  since  I  began  studying  James.  1  will  also  suggest 
novel  approaches  which  other  researchers  might  adopt  in  their  attempts  to 
circumvent  the  more  intransigent  problems  involved  in  psychobiographical 
writing. 


RESEARCH  AS  THE  FOUNDATION  OF  PSYCHOBIOGRAPHY 

Psychologists  who  do  quantitative  research  are  aware  that  their 
conclusions  can  be  no  better  than  the  data  on  which  they  are  based. 
Discussions  of  psychobiographical  methodology  rarely  focus  on  the 
research  itself.  (For  exceptions,  see  Arzt,  1978;Elms,  1976;  Greenst ein, 
1969;  Manuel,  1971.)  But  research  may  be  even  more  crucial  in  psychobio- 
graphical studies  than  in  quantitative  studies  because  of  the  subtlety  of  the 
interpretations  which  rest  on  this  researchc 

Difficulties  with  psychobiographical  research  began  with  what  is  often 
cited  as  the  first  psychobiographical  bock,  Freud'sLeüWjrJodiflf  Vinci  and 
a  Memory  of  His  Childhood.  In  the  memory  mentioned  in  the  title, 
Leonardo  related  that  when  he  was  in  his  cradle  a  bird  flew  down  and  then 
used  its  tail  to  open  his  mouth  and  strike  him  against  his  lips.  Freud 
organized  the  entire  book  around  his  interpretations  of  tliis  memory -or 
fantasy,  as  he  calls  it.  However,  Freud  made  a  critical  error.  He  relied  on 
German-language  sources  and  did  no  research  in  primary  materials.  In  his 
sources  the  Italian  word  nibio  was  mistranslated  as  vulture,  while  it 
actually  means  another  type  of  bird^the  kite  (see  Schapiro,  1956).  Freud*s 
misidentification  of  the  bird  undermined  his  intricate  interpretations; — r-r^- 


For  example,  one  of  his  chief  conclusions  was  that  Leonardo  had  spent 
the  formative  first  years  of  his  life  with  his  mother  but  with  no  father. 
Other  scholars  had  determined  that  Leonardo's  birth  was  illegitimate  and 
that  by  the  age  of  five  he  had  been  taken  into  his  father's  household,  but 
there  was  no  indication  when  his  reunification  with  his  father  took  place: 
shortly  after  his  birth,  shortly  before  he  reached  the  age  of  five,  or  some 
time  in  between. 

The  ancient  Egyptians,  according  to  Freud,  believed  that  all  vultures 
were  female  and  that  they  were  impregnated  by  the  wind.  But,  Freud 
acknowledged,  it  might  seem  unlikely  that  Leonardo  would  have  been 
familiär  with  this  beHef  since  hieroglyphics  were  not  deciphered  until 
centuries  after  his  death.  However,  Freud  discovered  that  the  Church 


Jtmes  William  Anderson 


247 


Fathers  frequently  quoted  the  Egyptian  idea  about  vulture  conception 
because  it  offered  support  for  the  plausibiHty  of  the  Virgin  Birth.  Hence 
he  offered  his  reconstruction.  Leonardo  had  once  read  about  this  belief  in 
the  Church  Fathers  or  in  a  book  of  natural  history.  "At  that  point  a 
memory  sprang  to  his  mind,  which  was  transfomied"  into  the  fantasy 
about  the  vulture.  The  fantasy  signified  that  "he  also  had  been  such  a 
vulture-child-he  had  had  a  mother,  but  no  father." 

The  importance  of  the  fantasy,  according  to  Freud,  is  that  it  seems  to 
teil  US  that  Leonardo  "spent  the  critical  first  years  of  his  life  not  by  the 
side  of  his  father  and  stepmother,  but  with  his  poor,  forsaken,  real  mother, 
so  that  he  had  time  to  feel  the  absence  of  his  father."  Freud  observed, 
"This  seems  a  slender  and  yet  a  somewhat  daring  conclusion  to  have 
emerged  from  our  psycho-analytic  efforts"  (1910:  90-91).  He  then  went 
on  to  describe  the  far-reaching  consequences  for  Leonardo  of  living  during 
his  first  three  to  five  years  with  only  his  mother.  But,  of  course,  Freud's 
intricate  speculations  coUapse  because  the  bird  was  not  a  vulture.  Psycho- 
logical  interpretations  often  rest  on  minute  details;  knowing  the  exact 
Word  or  phrasing  or  the  context  of  a  quotation  can  make  all  the  differ- 

ence. 

Although  in  the  earlier  article  I  briefly  mentioned  the  advantages  of 
imary  research,  once  1  became  involved  in  psychobiographical  work 
myself  I  learned  first-hand  about  the  stark  dif  ^^rences  between  the  histor- 
ical  figure  as  portrayed  in  seccmdary  accounts  and  that  same  person  as  he 
is  re^aled  in  the  primary  materials. 

What  has  been  called  James's  "spiritual  crisis"  was  the  focus  of  my 
study.  For  six  yeaß  while  in  his  20s  (1867-1872),  he  was  depressed  and  at 
times  suicidal.  He  had  difficulty  working  and  frequently  complained  of  his 
lack  of  Willpower.  He  also  suffered  from  a  number  of  psychologically 
based  Symptoms,  such  as  eye  trouble,  back  pain,  and  insomnia. 

^QIX^  a  philosophy  professor  at  Harvard  who  had  studied  under  James,  . 


developed  the  Interpretation  of  James's  spiritual  crisis  which  has  domi- 
nated  James  scholarship.  Psychological  approaches  were  alien  to  Perry.  His 
only  attempt  to  use  psychology  in  understanding  James  was  to  label  him 
as  "neurasthenic"  (Perry,  1935:  I,  322).  James  himself  at  times  talked 
about  suffering  from  neurasthenia.^  But  the  term,  populär  during  the 
second  half  of  the  nineteenth  Century,  had  become  obsolete  by  1910,  a 
füll  25  years  before  Perry  published  his  work.  And  it  explains  little. 
Neurasthenia  simply  means  "nerve  weakness,"  and  it  was  used  to  cover 


248 


Psychobiographical  Methodology 


virtually  all  nonpsychotic  psychological  problems  other  than  hysteria  and 
hypochondria  (see  Chatel  and  Peele,  1970-1971).  Not  surprisingly,  Perry 
emphasizes  a  philosophical,  instead  of  a  psychological,  explanation  of 
James 's  difficulties.  'The  spiritual  crisis  was  the  ebbing  of  the  will  to  live, 
for  lack  of  a  philosophy  to  live  by,"  he  wrote.  And  he  added  that  James 
"experienced  a  personal  crisis  that  could  be  relieved  only  by  a  philoso- 
phical insight"  (Perry,  1935:  1, 322-323). 

Even  this  brief  summary  is  sufficient  to  indicate  that  a  psychobio- 
grapher  would  be  in  danger  if  he  attempted  to  base  a  study  of  James  on 
Perry's  biographical  treatment  of  him.  But  Perry  also  exercised  consider- 
able  control  over  the  published  sources.  His  two-volume  study  of  James 
includes  hundreds  of  James's  letters  as  well  as  diary  extracts  and  other 
materials.  But  Perry  systematically  edited  the  documents  in  such  a  way 
that  they  support  his  portrait  of  James.  Probably  he  was  not  consciously 
attempting  to  give  a  misimpression.  But,  because  of  his  emphasis  on 
philosophy,  comments  which  seem  psychologically  relevant  to  us  appeared 
extraneous  to  him; so  he  often  omitted  them.^ 

What  matters  is  the  cumulative  effect  of  hundreds  of  deletions,  but  one 
specific  example  will  illustrate  the  nature  of  Perry's  editorial  work.  One  of 
James 's  most  dramatic  diary  entries  concems  his  decision  to  abandon  his 
desire  to  become  a  philosopher.  (Later,  of  course,  James  reversed  this 
decision.)  He  wrote  that  his  "strongest  moral  and  intellectual  craving 
[was]  for  some  stable  reality  to  lean  upon"  but  a  philosopher  forfeits  such 
stability  because  his  responsibility  is  "every  day  to  be  ready  to  criticize 
afresh  and  call  in  question  the  grounds  of  his  faith  of  the  day  before."  The 
crucial  sentence,  as  quoted  by  Perry,  reads:  "I  fear  the  constant  sense  of 
instability  generated  by  this  attitude  would  be  more  than  the  voluntary 
faith  [  can  keep  going  is  sufficient  to  neutralize"  (Perry,  1935:  I,  343).  But 
Perry  omitted  the  second  half  of  the  sentence.  James  actually  continued: 
"and  that  dream-conception,  'maya,'  the  abyss  of  horrors,  would  *spite 
of  everything  grasp  my  Imagination  and  imperil  my  reason.'"*  Perry's 
deletion  takes  the  reader's  attention  away  from  James's  fear  of  losing  liis 
psychological  stability,  falling  into  an  "abyss  of  horrors,"  and  becoming 
bereft  of  reason,  and  it  serves  to  stress  James's  concern  with  the  philo- 
sophical issue  of  "voluntary  faith." 

Perry's  work  on  James  demonstrates  that  not  only  are  secondary 
sources  unreliable  but  even  published  letters  and  diary  extracts  may  be 
misleading.  The  only  safe  alternative  is  to  work  directly  in  the  primary 
materials. 


James  William  Anderson 


249 


kOt* 


Most  scholars  who  did  not  do  research  in  the  primary  materials  have 
accepted  Perry's  Interpretation  of  James's  spiritual  crisis.  For  example, 
Fancher  (1979),  using  published  sources,  wrote  a  21-page  account  of 
James's  life  and  repeated  Perry's  interpretation.  In  his  book-length  study 
of  Freud,  by  contrast,  Fancher  (1973)  provided  a  number  of  perceptive 
original  insights  into  the  development  of  Freud's  work. 

Tlie  Suggestion  is  that  psychobiographical  portraits  which  rest  on 
secondary  sources— and  whose  authors  have  not  immersed  themselves  in 
the  data— are  bound  to  be  inadequate.  One  of  the  most  respected  psycho- 
biographies  is  the  George  and  George  (1956)  study  of  Woodrow  Wilson. 
When  I  first  read  it,  I  found  their  depiction  of  Wilson's  personality  to  be 
persuasive  on  the  whole.  But  Arthur  S.  Link,  a  Wilson  specialist,  told  me 
that  Wilson  scholars  have  never  taken  the  bock  seriously.  The  Georges 
largely  wrote  the  book  from  secondary  sources  and  made  virtually  no  use 
of  the  Wilson  papers,  which  were  available  in  the  Library  of  Congress. 
When  I  studied  the  papers  in  depth  I  discovered  that  the  data  contradicted 
the  Georges'  portrait  of  Wilson  (see  Weinstein,  Anderson,  and  Link,  1978). 

Hjelle  and  Ziegler  provide  another  example  of  psychobiography  based 
on  secondary  sources.  In  a  recent  textbook  they  note  that  a  personality 
theorist's  "basic  assumptions  about  human  nature  rcflect  [his]  own  per- 
sonality stntcture,''  and  therefore  they  provide  biographical  Sketches  of 
each  theorist  to  help  the  reader  "understand  him  or  her  as  a  j)erson" 
(1981 :  443).  But  these  short  sketches  are  filled  with  errors  which  a  scholar 
who  had  immereed  himself  in  the  data  on  the  theorists'  lives  would  have 
avoided.  For  example,  they  overlook  the  identity-related  issues  involved  in 
Erik  H.  Erikson's  name  change.  In  their  account,  his  father's  name  was 
Erikson,  and  his  mother  was  remarried  to  a  Dr.  Homburger  when  he  was 
thfee.  They  continue,  "Later,  in  signing  his  first  psychoanalytic  articles, 
Erikson  used  his  stepfather's  sumarne  as  his  own,  although  he  chose  to  be 
known  by  his  original  name  when  he  became  a  naturalized  American 
Citizen  in  1939"  (1981 :  1 13-1 14).  In  fact,  Erikson's  father  was  not  named 
Erikson,  and  his  mother's  maiden  name  was  not  Erikson  either.  Appar- 
ently  he  grew  up,  from  an  early  age,  with  the  name  Erik  Homburger.  In 
choosing  the  name  Erikson  he  was  making  a  statcmcnT^lTTathe  was  not 
Dr.  Homburger's  son,  and  not  the  son  of  his  "mythical"  father,  but  his 
own  son:  Erikson.  As  an  ambivalent  expression  of  "gratitude"  to  his 
stepfather,  he  demoted  the  name  Homburger  to  the  Status  of  a  middle 
name  and  retained  just  the  initial  "H"  in  his  name  when  it  was  printed  on 
the  title  pages  of  his  books.^ 


250 


Psychobioeraphical  Methodology 


James  William  Anderson 


251 


The  Chief  point  I  have  been  making  is  that  extensive  research  is  the  sine 
qua  non  of  psychobiography.  However,  a  biographer  must  not  become  so 
involved  in  ascertaining  the  facts  as  to  forget  that  psychological  reality  is 
what  matters  most. 

For  example,  biographers  have  gone  to  heroic  lengths  to  determine 
whether  Adolf  Hitler  had  a  Jewish  grandfather.  There  is  suggestive -but 
not  defmitive-evidence  that  his  grandmother  had  worked  as  a  servant  in  a 
Jewish  household,  had  become  pregnant  by  her  employer,  and  had  subse- 
quently  given  birth  to  Hitler's  father.  However,  as  Waite  (1977)  points  out, 
the  important  question  \&  not  whether  Hitler's  grancffather  was  Jewish  but 
whether  Hitler  suspected  that  he  was.  And,  in  fact,  there  is  ample  evidence 
that  Hitler  did  have  such  a  suspicion.  He  ranted  that  the  Aryan  race  would 
suffer  "blood  poisoning"  because  of  the  Jews  Üving  in  its  midst,  and, 
apparently  feeling  his  own  blood  was  tainted,  he  regularly  applied  leeches 
to  himself  and  directed  his  physician  to  remove  blood  wdth  a  syringe.  He 
deprecated  Jews  for  supposedly   having  bodily   odors  and  "offensive" 
noses,  and  he  also  had  phobic  concems  about  his  own  bodily  odors  and  his 
large  nose.  He  promulgated  a  law  that  Jews  could  not  employ  young, 
Gentile  household  servants,  and  more  than  once  he  inexplicably  flew  into 
a  rage  when  Catholic  household  servants  were  mentioned.  Eventually,  he 
directed  the  Gestapo  to  conduct  a  private  investigation  of  his  genealogy, 
presumably  in  the  hope  that  his  fear  would  finally  be  put  to  rest.  Only  the 
conclusion  that  Hitler  was  afraid  he  had  Jewish  blood  explains  his  stränge 
behavior.  But  what  should  be  emphasized  here  is  that  the  historical  truth 
of  whether  or  not  he  had  a  Jewish  grandfather  is  secondary;  it  was  his 
suspicion  that  played  such  a  central  role  in  the  development  of  his  rabid 
anti-Semitism.  If  he  had  known  about  his  ancestry  with  certainty,  the 
consequences  would  have  been  radically  different.  There  is  ample  evidence 
that  Hitler,  from  an  early  age,  feit  worthless  and  degraded.  His  suspicion  of 
being  part  Jewish  assisted  him  in  developing  a  defense  against  these 
feelings.  He  projected  the  darkest  side  of  his  self-image  onto  Jews;  he  said 
in  a  sense:  I  am  not  ugly,  unlikable,  and  depraved-  Jews  are.  The  paris  of 
himself  which  he  detested  he  idenüfied  with  his  suspected  Jewish  blood 
and  then  tried  to  extemalize  them.  His  whole  career  announced  that  he 
could  not  be  Jewish  because  he  was  the  greatest  Jew-hater  in  history. 
There  are  many  reasons  for  Hitler's  anti-Semitism,  but  it  probably  would 
not  have  reached  such  a  virulent  intensity  without  his  suspicion  that  he 
was  part  Jewish  himself. 


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A  psychobiographer,  despite  his  Immersion  in  the  data,  must  remember 
that  his  Chief  purpose  is  to  reconstruct  the  inner  world  of  his  subject. 

* 

THE  PSYCHOBIOGRAPHER'S  RELATIONSHIP  WITH 
HIS  OR  HER  BIOGRAPHICAL  SUBJECT 

As  the  literature  on  psychobiographical  methodology  recognizes,  one  of 
the  most  perilous  pitfalls  in  the  field  is  the  tendency  to  denigrate  or 
idealize  the  biographical  subject  (Donald,  1972;  Erikson,  1968;  George 

and  George,  1973). 

Recently  I  attended  a  Symposium  at  which  a  historian  presented  a 
psychobiographical  paper  on  one  of  history's  most  admired  martyrs.  Her 
paper  revolved  around  her  reassessment  of  his  act  of  martyrdom.  She 
argued  that  in  giving  his  life  for  his  beliefs  he  was  also  damaging  his  wife 
and  children  who  were  left  by  his  death  with  little  money  and  with  no 
father  and  husband.  Perhaps,  she  went  on,  his  martyrdom  represented  his 
way  of  punishing  or  sadistically  injuring  lüs  family.  In  the  ensuing  discus- 
sion  she  revealed  that  when  her  own  parents  had  gotten  divorced,  her 
father  had  moved  to  another  part  of  the  country,  and  his  absence  had  feit 
to  her  like  a  painful  abandonment.  No  doubt  the  martyr's  family  suffered. 
But  the  psychobiographer  failed  to  weigh  their  suffering  against  the 
benefits  which  accrued  to  the  thousands  of  people  who  shared  his  beliefs. 
Her  personal  experience  kept  her  from  taking  a  balanced  view  toward  her 
subject. 

In  the  anecdote,  denigration  may  have  been  involved.  But  my  experi- 
ence in  working  on  James's  Ufe  showed  me  that  the  issue  is  more  compli- 
cated  than  simple  denigration  or  idealization.  I  found  that  I  developed  ah 
interne  relationship  through  my  years  of  involvement  with  his  Ufe.  At 
times  I  idealized  him  and  enjoyed  the  Status  of  being  connected  to  so 
exalted  a  figure.  At  other  times  I  found  fault  with  him  in  order  to 
convince  myself  momentarily  that  I  was  smarter  or  saner  or  friendlier  than 
he.  Occasionally,  I  dreamt  about  him,  and,  as  my  wife  will  attest,  I 
mentioned  him  in  social  convereations  with  intolerable  frequency.  In  many 
intricate  ways  my  basic  myths  about  myself,  my  conflicts,  and  my  preoc- 
tions  became  intermixed  with  my  understanding  of  lüs  life. 

Lbewenberg  (1980)  observed  recently  that  the  biographer's  emotional 
"re^tions  may  help  the  reader  identify  the  subject's  central  conflicts.  For 
example,  he  noted  that' Deutscher  (1959),  while  describing  Leon  Trotsky's 


I 


?^ 


252 


Psychobiographical  Methodology 


James  William  Anderson 


253 


struggle  with  Josef  Stalin,  becomes  angry  with  his  subject,  Trotsky.  Pre- 
sumably  Deutscher  identified  with  Trotsky  but  did  not  share  his  wariness 
over  assuming  power,  and  therefore  Deutscher  feit  angry  with  him  for 
acting  in  a  seemingly  inexplicable  way. 

Based  on  my  own  experience,  I  am  convinced  that  every  psychobio- 
grapher  will  have  complicated  and  intense  personal  reactions  to  his  subject. 
Merely  satisfying  himself  that  his  view  ii  not  based  exclusively  on  either 
ideaÜzation  or  denigration  is  not  enoug^.  The  first  Step  is  to  admit 
openly-to  himself  at  least-that  he  is  emotionally  involved.  What  follows 
then  is  the  hard  work  of  constantly  examining  and  reexamining  his 
relationship  with  his  subject.  He  can  attempt  to  determine  the  extent  to 
which  his  reactions  stem  from  his  own  concems  and  conflicts  and  the 
extent  to  which  they  offer  insights  into  his  subject's  personality.  If  he  can 
disentangle  his  feeÜngs,  he  then  can  use  them  as  an  important  tool  in  his 
investigation  of  the  figure  whom  he  is  studying.  If  the  scholar  who  studied 
the  martyr  had  been  aware  of  the  sources  of  her  resentment  toward  him, 
she  could  have  avoided  her  one-sided,  exaggerated  condemnation  of  him. 
At  the  same  time,  with  such  self-awareness,  she  might  have  been  able  to 
use  her  personal  reaction  constructively.  For  example,  her  emotional 
response  might  have  alerted  her  to  the  possibility-overlooked  by  other 
scholars-that  the  martyr's  familial  relationships  were  worth  investigating. 
Similarly,  Deutscher,  instead  of  simply  becoming  angry  at  Trotsky  and 
leaving  it  to  perceptive  readers  such  as  Loewenberg  to  divine  the  source  of 
his  anger,  could  have  focused  more  deliberately  on  the  conflicts  which 
underlay  Trotsky 's  discomfort  with  power. 

But  in  working  on  James  I  have  seen  how  difficult  it  is  to  get  in  touch 
with  all  of  one's  personal  feeUngs  about  a  subject.  Thereare  further  Steps 
which  psychobiographers  potentially  could  take. 

Perhaps  it  should  be  Standard  practice  for  each  psychobiographer  to 
include  an  appendix  describing  his  feelings  about  his  subject,  his  biases, 
and  the  way  in  which  he  decided  to  write  about  that  particular  person. 
Freud  did  something  like  that  in  his  introduction  to  the  psychobiography 
of  Wilson  on  wliich  he  collaborated  with  Bullitt.  Freud  made  the  "confes- 
sion  that  the  figure  of  the  American  President  ...  was  from  the  beginning 
unsympathetic  to  me,  and  that  this  aversion  increased  in  the  course  of 
years  the  more  I  leamed  about  him  and  the  more  severely  we  suffered 
from  the  consequences  of  his  intrusion  into  our  destiny."  He  claimed  tliat 
his  "antipathy"  gave  way  to  "pity"  once  he  began  studying  Wilson.  But  his 


description  of  his  pity  makes  it  clear  that,  however  his  emotions  may  have 
changed,  his  hostiÜty  to  Wilson  did  not  abate.  He  noted  that  the  feeling  of 
pity  becomes  overwhelming  when  one  compares  Wilson's  weakness  to  "the 
greatness  of  the  task  which  he  had  taken  upon  himself  (Freud  and  Bullitt, 
1967:  xi;  xüi).  Freud's  attempt  to  come  to  grips  with  his  feelings  about 
Wilson  did  not  prevent  him  from  contributing  to  a  distorted,  denigrating 
examination  of  the  American  President.  But  at  least,  since  Freud  discussed 
his  feelings,  the  reader  has  the  opportunity  to  take  them  into  account 
when  assessing  the  biography. 

An  interview  with  an  author  can  help  make  similar  information  avail- 
able.  For  example  ,^U^ugstioned  Edel  (1 953-1 972),^lhg-aiithorof  a 
five-volume,  psychologicaUyinformed  biography  of  Henry  James^  regard-^ 
ing  his  feeling?  about  the  novelist.  Before  the  interview  Allen  (1967),  who 
wrote  the  Standard  biography  of  William  James,  commented  to  me  that 
Edel's  own  family  constellation  had  led  him  into  jn  Identification  with 
IfeniyTames.  TÖterriioted  that  EaeI,"ärr1&figlisEp^rofessor,  wa?t5  months 
yolh>geiLihan_his  brother,  a  philosophy  professor,  just  as  Henry,  the  man 
of  letters,  was  15  months  younger  than  William,  the  philosopher.  As  a 
result,  Allen  explained,  Edel  tended  always  to  favor  Henryks  perspectives 
over  William's.  This  rumor-and  similar  ones -circulate  among  scholars  of 
the  James  family,  but  no  one  had  ever  directly  asked  Edel  about  it,  not 
even  Allen,  who  had  been  Edel's  coUeague  for  years  in  New  York  Univer- 
sity's  Department  of  English.  When  I  brought  up  the  subject  with  Edel  I 
learned  that  the  story  was  incorrect;  actually  Edel  was  the  eider  not  the 
younger  brother.  In  a  number  of  ways  his  role  was  more  Hke  William's 
than  Henry's.  Like  William,  he  was-more  "gr^garious"  and  less  bookish  and 
he  "bossed"  his  brother  "around  a  great  deal."  One  direct  conscquence  of 
his  familial  Situation,  Edel  added,  was  that  it  led  him  to  ask  "whateffect 
Henry  James  had  on  William"  and  to  include  a  chapter  in  the  second 
volume  wliich  focused  on  William.  In  other  ways,  however,  Edel's  role  was 
similar  to  Henry's.  His  brother,  like  William,  was  the  better  Student,  and 
Edel  feit  like  a  younger  brother  when  his  brother  was  tutoring  him 
(Anderson,  1979:  21).  In  short,  the  facts  are  considerably  more  compli- 
cated than  the  rumors.  That  is  the  advantage  of  such  interviews:  They  give 
US  access  to  rieh  material  pertaining  to  the  relationship  between  author 
and  subject. 

Another  possibility  would  entail  the  psychobiographer  asking  others, 
particularly  individuals  who  are  intimately  acquainted  with  his  personality 


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arid  scholars  who  specialize  in  the  study  of  the  same  figure,  to  read  the 
manuscript  and  to  comment  specifically  on  his  relationship  with  his 
subject.  Individuab  who  know  the  psychobiographer  well  would  be  able  to 
recognize  where  his  personal  preoccupations  might  be  coloring  his  inter- 
pretations,  while  readers  who  specialize  in  the  study  of  the  same  subject 
would  be  able  to  point  to  areas  where  he  might  be  providing  a  distorted 
picture  of  the  subject. 

Two  scholars  have  carried  this  approach  a  step  further.  Platsch,  a 
historian  writing  a  psychobiography  of  Friedrich  Nietzsche,  and  Moraitis,  a 
psychoanalyst  with  an  interest  in  psychohistory,  collaborated  on  an  ex- 
ploration  into  the  process  of  writing  a  biography.  Fletsch  did  not  merely 
ask  Moraitis  to  comment  on  his  work;  they  met  systematically  for  12 
sessions,  and  both  of  them  wrote  about  their  work  together  (Moraitis, 
1979;  Fletsch,  1977).  As  an  example  of  the  process  they  used,  they 
differed  on  a  particular  interpretation  and  sought  to  understand  the  reason 
for  their  disagreement.  They  found  that  it  was  related  to  "two  distinct 
transference  reactions  toward  the  material"  and  that  their  views  "repre- 
sented  partial  insights  about  Nietzsche  that  could  complement  each  other 
rather  than  being  antithetical"  (Moraitis  and  Fletsch,  1979:  73).  Once  the 
transference  reactions  were  identified  and  analyzed,  they  concluded,  it  was 
possibie  to  use  them  in  developing  a  more  comprehensive  understanding  of 
the  subject. 

PSYCHOBIOGRAPHY  AS  CROSS-CULTURAL  RESEAROI 

Fsychobiography  is^ajorm^cross-cultural  research;  the  subjecUimlßsS'^ 
he\s-ft-cünIemporary,  lived  in  a  culture  significaritly  ^Heirent  from  our 
present-day  culture.  (For  other  discussions  of  this  issue,  see  Fischer,  1970; 
Elms,  1976;LeVine,  1975). 

Often  a  behavior  of  the  subject  will  not  have  had  the  same  meaning  in 
the  subject's  era  as  it  does  in  our  era.  Yet  psychobiographers  often  make 
interpretations  on  the  basis  of  20th-century  values  and  Standards.  For 
^— example,  the  Geoi^erföcused  on  several  weD-knownracfe  about  Wilson's 
childhood:  He  did  not  learn  the  aiphabet  until  he  was  9  and  did  not  read 
with  facility  until  11,  and  he  entered  school  at  the  age  of  10  but  did 
poorly  at  first.  They  concluded  that  "perhaps  . . .  failing-refusing-to 
learn  was  the  one  way  in  which  the  boy  dared  to  express  his  resentment 
against  his  father"  (1956:  7).  The  Georges  assumed  that  Wilson's  slowness 


»    ,•■' 


P' 


in  leaming  to  read  was  the  sort  of  behavior  which  might  have  served  as  an 
expression  of  resentment.  But  they  brought  with  them,  to  tliis  interpreta- 
tion, today's  emphasis  on  learning  to  read  punctually  at  the  age  of  6. 
Wilson's  behavior  would  have  appeared  far  less  deviant  in  the  mid-19th 
Century.  Furthermore,  the  period  from  ages  3  1/2  to  8  1/2  in  his  child- 
hood coincided  with  the  Civil  War.  In  Augusta,  Georgia,  where  he  lived, 
the  schools  were  in  a  chaotic  condition,  and  Wilson,  along  with  many 
other  children,  did  not  begin  attending  school  until  well  after  Appo- 
mattox.  During  Wilson's  childhood,  tardiness  in  developing  a  faciUty  for 
reading  was  not  an  apt  vehicle  for  venting  hostility  toward  a  scholarly 
father  as  it  would  be  during  our  era. 

The  work  of  another  historian  ülustrates  a  more  thoughtful  approach  to 
the  interpretation  of  a  psychobiographical  subject's  behavior.  Studying  an 
early  19th-century  diary,  Ranlett  noticed  that  the  diarist,  a  school  teacher 
named  Cynthia  Everett,  stressed  the  benefits  of  beating  her  students 
whenever  they  needed  discipline.  But  Ranlett  realized  that  her  subject  was 
not  necessarily  brutal  just  because  20th-century  Standards  condemn  cor- 
poral  punishment;  such  punishment  was  common  wliile  Everett  was  a 
teacher.  The  challenge  was  to  detemüne  whethcr  or  not  Everett's  use  of 
force  was  excessive  according  to  early  19th-century  mores.  Ranlett  dis- 
covered  that  eventually  Everett  was  dismissed  for  her  abuse  of  corporal 
punishment.  At  this  point -but  not  sooner- Ranlett  (n.d.)  ^  asjustifiedin 
concluding  that  her  subject  had  a  sadistic  tendency  for  which  psycho- 
logical  explanations  could  be  sought.  (For  a  similar  inddent  in  anthro- 
pological  research,  see  Parsons,  1969.) 

If  it  is  important  witli  behaviors  to  consider  the  cultural  context,  it  is 
even  more  crucial  with  ideas,  since  they  gain  their  meaning  from  their 
*  relationship  to  larger  currents  of  thou^t.  For  example,  in  studying 
James's  personality  I  noticed  that  more  than  once  he  describedhimself  as 
suffering  from  "nervous  weakness"  (Perry,  1935: 1, 346).  I  recognized  this 
phrase  as  a  potentially  revealing  indication  of  his  image  of  himself  and  liis 
understanding  of  his  psychological  difllculties.  But  in  order  to  uncover 
what  the  idea  meant  to  him  I  had  to  examine  it  in  relation  to  the  complex 
of  attitudes  toward  mental  illness  which  he  adopted  from  his  culture. 

During  the  second  half  of  the  19th  Century  there  was  wide  agreement 
that  a  "hereditary  taint"  was  implicated  in  all  forms  of  mental  ilhiess. 
iames-ac€epted^^hi&-bclief.-lii4ULj£ai4y-review  he  referred  approvingly  to 
the  contention  of  a  leadingpsychiatrist,  Henry  Maudsley,  that  "the  hercdi- 


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tary  element  holds  the  first  place  in  the  production  of  insanity ."  No  doubt 
onc  of  the  reasons  James  was  so  hesitant  to  get  married— he  finally  was 
married  at  the  age  of  36-was  that  he  feared  passing  on  the  taint  to  his 
children.^  In  the  same  review  he  noted  that  "right  breeding"  was  "one  of 
the  most  important  means"  of  averting  mental  illness  (James,  1974:  43). 
During  his  long  and  tumultuous  courtship  with  Alice  Gibbens,  the  woman 
he  eventually  married,  he  wrote  her  that  "the  marriage  of  unhealthy 
persons"  was  a  crime  against  natural  law.'' 

Defining  his  condition  as  basically  inherited  and  physiological  deflected 
his  attention  from  psychological  factors.  In  addition,  medical  experts 
specifically  wamed  against  introspection  (Feinstein,  in  press).  James  took 
their  wamings  to  heart;  for  example,  he  wrote  his  brother  Henry  that  he 
welcomed  a  job  teaching  physiology  because  it  offered  "a  diversion  from 
the  introspective  studies  whichhad  bred  a  sort  of  philosophical  hypochon- 
dria  in  me  of  late."®  In  looking  at  James's  experience,  we  can  see  obvious 
psychological  issues,  such  as  his  conflicts  about  his  choice  of  vocation  and 
his  struggle  to  achieve  autonomy.  But  it  was  unUkely  that  James  would  see 
these  issues  because  lüs  culture  did  not  provide  ready  ways  to  conceptual- 
ize  them. 

In  the  View  of  the  period,  an  individuafs  inherited  nervous  weakness 
was  part  of  his  lower  seif,  the  savage,  uncivilized  residue  from  his  evolu- 
tionary  ancestors,  and  if  he  surrendered  to  his  lower  seif,  he  would  be 
condemned  to  a  life  of  invalidism  and  insanity.  But  his  higher  faculties  -his 
capacity  for  volition  and  virtue— could  do  battle  against  his  nervous  weak- 
ness (Fullin wider,  1975).  Accepting  this  view,  James  pictured  himself  as 
fighting  a  constant  war,  but  he  complained  that  his  lack  of  strength  made 
"inward  virtue"  all  the  more  difficult.  "Constant  reflection,  Inhibition, 
resolution,  whipping  up  of  courage,  adopting  of  privation,  everything 
voUtional  in  short,"  he  wrote,  "tax  unbearingly  an  already  overtaxed 
nervous  System;  and  invalids  who  let  everything  *slump'  have  much  to  be 
said  in  their  favor."^ 

In  Short,  James  held  various  views  which  were  associated  with  his  iniage 
of  himself  as  suffering  from  nervous  weakness;  he  believed  that  he  had  a 
hereditary  defect,  that  he  should  not  get  married,  that  introspection  was 
dangerous,  and  that  he  would  become  an  invaHd  if  he  relaxed  in  his 
constant  battle  against  his  inner  tendencies.  This  pattem  is  understandable 
only  when  considered  in  cultural  context.  (For  a  sensitive  reconstruction 
of  the  view  James's  sister,  Alice,  had  of  her  "nervous"  problems,  see 
Strouse,  1980.) 


All  of  an  individual's  behaviors  and  ideas  are  deeply  embedded  in  the 
historical  period  in  which  he  lives.  The  psychobiographer's  interpretations 
are  likely  to  be  mistaken  if  he  is  not  careful  to  determine  what  his  material 
would  have  meant  from  his  subject's  point  of  view.  As  I  noted  in  the 
earlier  article,  the  psychobiographer's  chief  defense  against  tliis  danger  is 
to  immerse  himself  in  his  subjcct's  era  so  that  he  will  be  able  to  understand 
the  subject's  experience  much  as  the  subject  himself  would  have  under- 
stood  it.  I  would  also  like  to  propose  some  additional  strategies  which  the 
psychobiographer  might  adopt. 

A  specific  strategy  for  dealing  with  cross-cultural  differences  would 
involve  three  stepfernrst^^  the  psychobiographer  would  make_an_explicit 
effQrt  to  ^eaHistr&tj__the  sü^ect's  "way~~of'  seeTng  his  experience.  My 
remarks  on  James's  understanding  of  his  nervousTwe^ikness^nditsconno- 
tations  illustrate  the  first  step.  Second,  he  would  try  to  determine  pre- 
cisely  where  the  subject's  understanding-even  in  the  subjcct's  own  opin- 
ion-was  inadequate.  For  example,  James  acknowledged  that  he  could  not 
fathom  why  his  Symptoms  came  and  went  as  they  did.  To  him  it  was  all  "a 
dark  business."^^  The  psychobiographer  may  regard  James's  confusion  as 
an  invitation  to  attempt  to  provide  the  missing  interpretation.  And  that 
leads  to  the  third  step:  The  psychobiographer,  building  on  his  subject's 
own  way  of  conceptualizing  his  experience,  would  attempt  to  make  sensc 
of  what  was  inexplicable  to  his  subject.  For  example .  one  might  explore 
the  way  tensions  within  James's  family  were  related  to  the  vicissitudes  of 
his  Symptoms.  Using  such  a  strategy,  the  psychobiographer  not  only  shows 
his  respect  for  his  subject's  viewpoint  but  also  takes  advantage  of  psycho- 
logical perspectives  which  can  deepen  our  understanding  of  his  subject's 
experience. 

There  is  another,  more  novel,  strategy  which  the  psychobiographer 
sensitive  to  cross-cultural  difficulties  could  employ:  He  would  search  for 
living  individuals  who  largely  share  his  subject's  cultural  valucs  and  then  he 
would  conduct  a  series  of  Interviews  with  them.  Sometimes  an  archeologist 
speciahzing  in  the  Late  Stone  Age  will  study  an  existing  stone-age  culture. 
For  example,  he  might  investigate  the  ways  these  living  people  use  stone 
tools  which  look  much  the  same  as  the  artifacts  of  an  extinct  culture 
1980).  Similarly,  a  scholar  interested  in  James  could  find  indivi- 
Juals^om  a  certain  kind  of  eastem,  New  England  background  and  explore 
•^^'^  th^ir  attitudes  toward,  for  example,  nervous  weakness.^*  He  could  ask 
them  what  they  thought  of  introspection  and,  if  they  had  their  hesitancies 
about  it,  why.  A  psychobiographer  studying  the  Kennedy  family  could 


1^ 


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James  William  Anderson 


259 


familiarize  himself  with  the  values  and  beliefs  of  Irish-Americans,  and 
someone  studying  Douglas  MacArthur  might  concentrate  on  leaming 
about  people  who  grew  up  in  military  surroundings.  Of  course,  the 
parallels  between  the  subject's  views  and  those  of  the  living  people  would 
not  be  exact,  but  still  the  psychobiographer  would  have  the  opportunity 
to  attain  valuable  insights  on  many  topics. 

ÜSE  OF  PSYCHOLOGICAL  THEORY 

In  the  earlier  article  I  discussed  some  of  the  difficulties  in  applying 
psychological  theory  to  biography  (also  see  Arzt,  1978;  George,  1971; 
Glad,  1973),  and  I  specifically  commented  that  psychodynamic  theory 
seemed  to  be  the  most  appropriate  perspective  for  such  work  since  it  gives 
promise  of  supplying  answers  to  the  kinds  of  questions  which  biographers 
find  most  vexing. 

In  recent  years  there  has  been  increased  awareness  of  the  possibilities 
for  using  other  types  of  psychological  theory  in  historical  work  (Gilmore, 
1979).  Hom  (1980a,  1980b)  applies  family -Systems  theory  to  the  Black- 
wells  and  shows  that  it  illuminates  many  elusive  problems,  such  as  the 
tendency  toward  invalidism  in  the  family.  Crosby  (1979)  has  considered 
the  use  of  social-psychological  concepts,  such  as  attribution  theory,  in 
biography.  Hoffer  (1979)  and  Wemik  (1979)  both  make  use  of  cognitive 
psych ology  in  their  psychohistorical  work.  Craik  (1977)  has  pioneered  in 
the  application  of  trait  psychology  to  historical  studies.  There  can  be  no 
doubt  that  aU  of  these  approaches  contribute  to  our  understanding  of  the 
individual  in  his  or  her  complexity. 

Nonetheless,  in  my  study  of  James  I  found  not  only  that  psycho- 
dynamic theory  was  valuable  but  also  that  specific,  recently  developed 
psychoanalytic  approaches  seemed  to  clarify  material  whose  meaning  was 
particularly  elusivß.  Object-relations  theory-both  the  British  approach,af  ^ 
%5nnicott  (1958;  1965^971)  and  Guntrip  (1961,  1969,  197l)and3ß  ^ 
Ammc^fi^verstoh  of^ernberg  (1975,  1976, 1980)  helped  me  understand 
James's  relationships.  It   provided   perspectives  useful  in  analyzing  the 
expectations  which  he  brought  to  his  friendships  and  romances  and  which 
underlay  his  tendency  toward  Isolation.  (Cf.  Mazlish's,  1978,  and  Demos's, 
1980,  emphasis  on  transference.)  Mahler's  (1 968>  l^T^^Mafaler;  Pines,  and:^:^ 
Bergman,  1975)  separation^niiividuation  theory  pffe red  a  >yay  of  concept- 
ualizing  James's  early  experiences  and  assessing  their  impact  on  his  later 


w 


Personality.  Finally,  Kohut's  (1971,  1977,  1978)  psychology  of  the  seif 
seemed  particularly  well-suited  to  the  exploration  of  issues  that  were 
^eeiitral  in  James's  life.  Two  other  psychobiographers-Strozier  (1981)  in 
his  work  on  Abraham  Lincohi  and  Bongiomo  (1980)  in  his  work  on 
Wilson— have  akö  made  use  of  the  psychology  of  the  self^  Strozier  (1978) 
and  Demos  (1980)  have  discussed  the  applicabiHty  of  Kohut's  worlTTo^ 

historical  studies.  ^  ~^^' ~ 

To  give  an  example  of  my  use  of  Kohut's  approach,  I  will  focus  on  a 
central  issue  in  my  study  of  James's  life  and  discuss  how  the  psychology  of 
the  seif  contributed  to  my  investigation  ofthat  issue.  One  question  which 
any  Scholar  of  James's  young  adulthood  must  answer  is  why  this  individ- 
ual—who  later  became  one  of  our  most  influential  and  productive  scho- 
lars-went  through  a  period  of  six  years  in  which  he  was  so  disabled.  As 
noted  before,  Perry's  explanation  emphasizes  James's  difilculty  in  finding 
a  philosophical  meaning  of  life.  The  chief  psychological  Interpretation, 
developed  by  Strout  (1968)  and  Feinstein  (1977),  explores  his  confiicts 
with  his  father  over  his  choice  of  vocation.  Certainly  these  issues  played  a 
role  in  James's  difficulties,  but  they  do  not  account  for  the  severity  of  his 
suffering.  He  did  not  merely  ruminate  over  the  meaning  of  life;  for  six 
years  he  was  often  unable  to  motivate  himself  to  accomplish  even  the 
simplest  of  tasks.  He  was  not  just  mildly  depressed;  he  periodically  had  to 
struggle  to  avoid  killing  himself. 

l  Kokut^  emphasis  on  the  seif  draws  attention  to  James's  fear  of  frag- 
entation.  During  James's  spiritual  crisis  his  underlying  concem  was  with 
-ftadle  seif.  At  one  point  he  actually  experienced  what  Kohut  calls 
fragmentation  of  the  seif.  He  was  suddenly  enveloped  "as  if  it  came  out  of 
the  darkness"  by  "a  horrible  fear  of  my  ownexistence.'' He  later  recalled 
that  "it  was  as  if  something  hitherto  solid  within  my  breast  gave  way 
entirely,  and  I  became  a  mass  of  quivering  fear."  He  quickly  regained  his 
equilibrium,  but,  afterward,  he  noted,  "I  awoke  moming  after  moming 
with  a  horrible  dread  at  the  pit  of  my  stomach,  and  with  a  sense  of  the 
insecurity  of  life  that  I  never  knew  before"  (James,  1936:  157-158).  Three 
or  four  years  later  he  was  still  terrified  that  his  seif  would  shatter  again.  He 
confided  in  his  diary  that  he  had  a  need  **for  somc  stable  reality  to  lean 
upon"(Perry,  1935:  I,    343). 

Even  in  the  latter  years  of  his  life,  after  his  most  serious  Symptoms  had 
long  since  abated,  James  remained  uneasy  about  his  underlying  susceptibil- 
ity  to  fragmentation.  After  reading  Pierre  Janet's  pioneering  work  on 


m. 


m 


260 


Psychobiographical  Methodology 


James  William  Anderson 


261 


dissociative  states,  James  suspected  that  he  liimself  had  a  ''soul"  that  was 
"disintegrated"  (1920:  I,  347).  Some  38  years  after  the  fragmentation 
experience,  he  underwent  an  experience  that  was  nearly  as  terrifying.  He 
awoke  one  night  in  the  middle  of  a  dream,  and  while  he  was  thinking 
about  it  he  became  "suddenly  confused  by  the  contents  of  two  other 
dreams  that  shuffled  themselves  abruptly  in  between  the  parts  of  the  first 
dream."  He  feared  that  he  was  suffering  from  "an  invasion"  of  multiple 
personaUty.  "Decidedly  I  was  losing  hold  ofm^JsdCand^^ 
tance  with  a  quatlty^oTKiental  distrgss4hafThad  never  known  before,"  he 
concluded.  He  could  fmd  no  way  to  brace  himself  against  his  anxiety.  "In 
this  experience  "  he  commented,  "all  was  diffusion  from  a  centre,  and  a 
foothold  swept  away,  the  brace  itself  disintegrating  all  the  faster  as  one 
needed  its  support  more  direly"  (James,  1910:  207-208). 

James's  despondency  over  his  failiire  to  find  a  philosophical  meaning  of 
life  and  his  conflicts  with  his  father  over  the  question  of  vocation  were 
both  real,  but  neither  can  be  fully  understood  without  reference  to  his 
fragile  seif.  According  to  Kohut,  an  individual  who  lacks  a  cohesive  seif 
will  also  be  without  a  deeply  anchored  set  of  values.  It  was  only  when 
James's  inability  to  fmd  meaning  in  the  outer  world  was  combined  with 
his  unreliable  inner  values  that  he  feit  so  lost.  Similarly,  a  well-developed 
seif  provides  the  only  foundation  on  which  an  individual  can  establish  true 
independence.  James's  troubles  with  his  dependency  on  his  father  make 
sense  only  when  we  realize  that,  with  liis  difflculties  in  the  sphere  of  the 
seif,  he  had  no  alternative  to  his  reliance  on  his  father. 
i  J  Using  Kohut's  psychology  of  the  seif  also  draws  our  attention  to  other 
Ifopics  which  we  can  predict,'given4aTfTes's^elf9athelüg>^,-will  havejnati. 


itered  in  his  life.  A  person  such  as  James  can  be  expected  to  have  failed  to 
leceive  empathic  care  from  his  parents,  particularly  his  mother,  in  eaxiy^ 
life;  so  Kohut's  theory  leads  us  to  examine  his  relationship  with  his  mother 
(Anderson,  1979).  In  addition,  such  a  person  would  be  expected  to  have 
had  troubles  in  the  area  of  idealization;  James's  father  was  so  inconsistent 
and  idiosyncratic  that  he  undermined  his  children's  attempts  to  idealize 
him.  Kohut's  approach  ako  has  consequences  for  understanding  the 
improvement  in  James's  condition-a  topic  which  I  shall  consider  later  in 
this  review. 

In  Short,  Kohut's  psychology  of  the  seif  has  all  the  characteristics  of  a 
powerful  theory.  It  explains  material  that  is  otherwiseinexplicable,  draws 
together  4ssues  that  had  seemed  disparate,  and  suggests  additional  topics 


1^ 


which  are  worth  exploring.  In  my  experience  the  approaches  of  Maliler, 
Kjemberg^-Winnidott,  and  Guntrip  provided  similar  benefits,  and  I  also 
recommend  theirjise  in  psychobiographical  worlc:  — 

ANALYZING  AN  ABSENT  SUBJECT 

Some  critics  argue  that  psychobiography  is  futile  from  the  Start.  They 
concede  that  a  psychotherapist,  in  the  course  of  many  sessions,  has  an 
opportunity  to  uncover  his  patient's  imier  world.  But  in  psychobiography 
the  subject  is  absent;  the  psych obiographer  has  to  assemble  his  portrait 
JifinLwritten  materials,  and  he  is  never  able  to  question  his  subject  directly 
(Barzun,  1974^;Etannard,  1980).  (For  responses  to  this  oriti^m,  see^edo, 
1972;  George  and  George,  1964;  Wolfenstein,  1972;  Wyatt,  1963;  Zonis, 
1977.)  Certainly  these  critics  have  a  point.  Freud,  if  he  had  been  able  to 
talk  to  Leonardo,  would  not  have  gone  careening  off  in  the  wrong 
direction.  He  would  have  asked  Leonardo  whether  he  was  familiär  with 
myths  about  vultures.  And  Leonardo  would  have  answered,  "But  the  bird 
asn't  a  vulture;  it  was  a  kite!" 

Nonetheless,  as  I  noted  in  the  earlier  article,  the  psychobiographer 
actually  has  certain  advantages  compared  to  the  psychotherapist.  What 
follows  is  a  description  of  three  advantages  from  which  I  benefited  in  my 
iaa>flrt5n  James. 

First,  as  Mazlish  has  pointed  out  (1978),  the  psychobiographer  is  able 
to^'cG^^;<ron  thft4^imony  of  other  people  who  knew  his  subject,  while  a 
psychotherapist  r^^Ty-4i4s^  chance  to^zdk^o  those  who  are  acquainted 

oraries  heavily  influ- 


with  his  patient.  The  accounts  of  James's  con1 
enced  my  understanding  of  him.  In  particular,  what  theywrofe  about  him 
occasionally  clashed  with  what  he  said  about  himself.  These  disparities 
forced  me  to  find  explanations  that  could  reconcile  them,  and  they  also 
taught  me  that  I  could  not  always  accept  James's  self-descriptions. 

Second,  when  a  psychobiographer  studies  someone  like  James  who  was 
an  author,  he  can  search  the  author's  i)odv^3fi¥fttteft-w^riUjQjLself-reveM- 
ingJnformaüol?;  the  psychotherapist  has  no  comparable  source.  We  know 
about  James's  (1936)  experience  of  fragmentation  only  because  he 
included  a  vivid  description  of  it  in  The  Varieties  ofReligious  Experience: 
in  that  work  he  disguised  the  passage's  source  by  noting  that  an  anony- 
mous  Frenchman  had  sent  it  to  him,  but  he  later  admitted  that  he  had 
written  it  himself.  In  his  eariy  works  he  often  dealt  with  topics  which  we 


The  Psychobiography 
Debate: 

AN  ÄNÄLYTICäL  REVIEW 


WILLIAM  McKinley  rl-ntan 


WiUiam  McKinley  Runyan  is  Assistant  Professor,  School  of  Social  Weifars,  ar.d 
Assistant  Research  Psychologis*,  Institute  of  Personality  Assessrr.ent  and  Research,  st 
the  University  of  California,  Beikeley.  His  primary  ir.terer.s  are  iri  tiie  study  of 
iives,  persor.aüty  theory,  and  phiiosophy  cf  tr.e  social  sciencc^.  Ke  i>  auJ-.-ir  cf 
Lfe  Histoncs  and  Ptychobiograpny:  Exploration:  in  Thejr\  an::  -'.etkod  '^Oxtc.-d 
University  Press,  in  r  ress). 


F. 


V 


Ps 


s>^chobiog:aphica]  studies  'A'hich  utilize  psycholcgical  (often  psycho- 
analytic)  theor>'  in  interpreting  the  Iives  of  public  er  hisicrical  figures  have 
become  increasingly  prominent  and  increasLngly  contrcversia!  in  rcccnl 
years.  Advocates  of  psychobiograpir/j'e.g.,  Lang;:  1958:  Erikscn,  iPSS, 
1969;  Mazlish^pIU  AnüerscivlS.si^981b)  see  the  use7jf-s>'s-wejnätic 
psycHolügy  as  a  signiacant  advance  over  the  informal  psychology  traci- 
tionally  used  in  biography.  "Viewed  in  the  iig!;:  of  modern  depth  psycho!- 


-?». 


AUTHOR*S  NOTE:  This  projec:  v.as  facüitatcd  by  a  gran:  frcm  the  Committee 
on  Research,  University  of  California,  Berkeley.  I  would  like  to  thank  James  W. 
Anderson,  Faye  Crosby,  ^nd  Alan  C.  ELtis  fc:  •^•'l:  incisive  ccrp*ments  on  an  eaiüc: 
vcrsicn  of  uhis  chapter. 


22^ 


226 


P^ychobiocraph)  Debate 


ogy,  the  homespun,  common-sense  psychological  intcrpretations  of  past 
historians,  even  some  of  the  greatest,  seem  woefully  inadequate,  not  to  say 
naive''  (Langer,  1957,  pp.  286-287).  Psychological  conceptualizations  and 
assumptions  are  inevitably  embedded  in  the  description  and  interpretaüon 
of  lives,  and  even  those  categorically  opposed  to  systematic  psychoIog>'  are 
forced  to  rely  on  an  implicit  psychology  (Erikson,  1958).  The  only 
question,  according  to  this  view,  is  not  whether  to  use  psychology  or  not, 
but  Vvhether  the  biographer  should  draw  on  the  discipline  of  psycholog>'  as 
well  as  on  common  sense  and  personal  experience. 

On  the  other  hand,  critics  of  psychobiography  (e.g..  Barzun.  1974; 
Coles,  1975;  Stannard,  1980;Stone,  1981)cl3im  that  tiit  whole  enterprise 
has  been  "disappointing,  partly  bccause  of  the  flimsiness  of  the  evidence 
of  childliood  experience,  panly  because  of  the  speculative  nature  of  tlie 
causal  links  with  adult  behavior,  partly  because  of  the  neglect  of  the 
influence  of  tlie  great  processes  of  historical  change  in  religion,  economics,- 
politics,  Society,  and  so  on"  (Stone,  198l7pp.  220-221).  In  one  of  the 
more  intemperate  critiques  of  tlie  whole  field  of  psychohistory,  including 
psychobiography,  Stannard  (1980)  charges  that  **from  the  eariiest  endeav- 
ors  to  write  psychohistory  to  those  of  the  present,  individual  writings  of 
would-be  psychohistorians  have  consistcntly  been  characterized  by  a  cava- 
!:•::  Attitüde  toward  fact,  a  contorted  attitude  toward  logic,  an  irrespon- 
sible  attitude  toward  theory  Validation,  and  a  myopic  attitude  toward 
cultural  differcnce  and  anachronism''  (p.  147). 

This  review  attempts  to  confront  the  charges  of  the  critics  and  to  lake 
2J1  equally  critical  look  at  the  claims  and  methods  of  practitioners.  This 
examination  of  foundations  and  principles  in  psychobiography  is  intended 
to  be  of  use  in  assessing  the  field's  potentials  and  limitations.  (See  also  the 
methodological  discussions  in  Anderson,  1981a,  1981b;Crosby  d:  Crosby, 
.1981;  Elms,  1976;  Mack,  1971;  Grecnstein,  1975a,  1975b;  Runyan.  1981, 
in  press;  and  Tetlock,  Crosby,  &  Crosby,  1981).  The  next  sections  present 
h  brief  historical  sketch  of  work  in  psychobiography,  a  sample  of  three 
ps>'chobiographical  interpretations,  and  a  definition  of  the  boundaries  of 
the  field.  Each  of  the  succeeding  sections  examines  a  controversial  issue  m 
ihe  debate  over  the  mcrits  and  limitations  of  psychobiography,  mcluding 
the  Problem  of  inadequate  e\idence,  postdictive  reconstnictiuns,  reduc- 
tionism.  the  importance  of  childhood  experience  for  adult  behavior,  and, 
fmally,  the  transhistorical  and  cross-cultural  generalit)'  of  psychological 
theor>'. 


i 

*  i. 


.7  . 


William  McKinley  Runyan 


227 


HISTORICAL  BACKGROÜND 

The    psychobiographical    enterprise,    initially    conceived    as    applied 
psychoanalysis,  was  launched  with   Freud's  Leonardo  Da   Vinci  and  a 
Memory  of  His  Childhood  (1910).  A  sample  of  otlier  early  psychoanalytic 
studies  are  analyses  of  Shakespeare  (Jones.  1910),  the  artist  Giovanni 
Segantini  (Abraham,  191 1  [1956]),  Richard  Wagner  (Graf,  191 1),  Amen- 
hotep  IV  (Abraham,  1912   [1935]),  Martin  Luther  (Smith,  1913),  and 
Socrates  (Karpas,  1915).  A  number  of  these  eariiest  psychobiographical 
studies  are  summarized  in  Dooley's  "Psychoanalytic  Studies  of  Genius" 
0916)  and  discusscd  in  Barnes  (1919)  aiid  Fearing  (1927).  During  the 
192ÖS  a  large  number  of  psychobiographical  works  were  published,  oüen 
by  those  with  no  formal  training  in  ps>'choanalysis  or  psychiatry,  vith 
several  of  the  best  known  (Garraty,  1954)  beirig  studies  of  Margaret  Füller 
(Anthony,    1920),   Samuel   Adams   (Hariow,    1923),    Edgar   .AUen  Poe 
(Krutch,  1926),  and  Abraliam  Lincoln  (Clark,  1923,  1933). 

This  rising  tide  of  psychoanalytic  biography  led  to  a  number  of  attacks 
on  the  method  (e.g.,  NVTiilbey,  1924;  DeVoto,  1933),  but  the  production 
of  psychobiographies  continued  throu^  the  1930s.  By  the  end  of  tlie 
decade,  there  were  psychobiographical  studies  of  writers  such  as  Tclstoy. 
Dostoevsky,  Moliere,  Sand,  Goethe,  Colericge,  Nietzsche,  Poe,  luid  Rous- 
seau and  of  public  figures  including  Caesar,  Lincoln,  Napoleon,  Darwin, 
and  .AJexander  the  Great  (Anderson,  1978).  ''V^Tiile  the  father  of  psycho- 
analysis, Sigmund  Freud,  v/as  srudying  the  behavior  of  Moses,  Leonardo  da 
Vinci,  and  Woodrow  Wilson,  he  him^elf  v^-as  under  investigation  by  anoiher 
psychohistorian.  It  seemed  tliat  by  the  end  of  tlie  1930's  almost  no  one 
had  cscaped-even  Houdini  had  been  analNTed"  (.Anderson,  1978,  p.  1).  In 
contrast,  the  1940s  were  a  relatively  slow  period  for  psychological  biogra- 
phy, with  e.xceptions  such  asGuttmacher'?  (1941)  study  of  George  III  and 
Längeres  study.  Hie  Mind  of  Adolf  Hitler,  cnginally  written  in  194^  for 
the  Office  of  Strategie  Ser\'ices  but  noi  published  until  1972. 

The  1950s  saw  a  renewed  production  of  psychobiographies,  such  as 
studies  of  Jonathan  Swift  and  Lewis  Carroll  (Greenacre,  1955),  and 
Beethoven  and  his  ncphew  (Stcrba  &  Sierba,  1954).  Tlie  m.ajor  turninc 
point,  however,  in  tenris  of  more  rigorous  and  methodologically  sc' 
conscious  psychobiography  was  the  publica: ion  of  George  and  Geor. 
Woodro\\^  Wilson  and  Colonel  IIousc:  A  Personality  Study  (1956)  and 
Erikson's   Young  Man  Luther:  A  Study  in  Psychoanalysis  and  Hisiory 


F»'i 


22S 


Piychoblogrttphy  Debite 


(1958).  In  the  1960s  and  70s  there  was  an  enormous  outpouring  of 
psychobiographical  analyses  of  writers,  artists,  musicians,  politicians,  reli- 
gious  leaders,  scientists,  and  others.^ 

Prominent  examples  of  recent  psychobiographical  woiks  are  studies  of 
Henry  James  (Edel,  1953-1970),  Isaac  Newton  (^^anueI,  196S),  Gandhi 
(Erikson,  1969),  Max  Weber  (Mitzman,  1969),  Einily  Dickinson  (Cody, 
1971),  Stalin  (Tucker,  1973),  James  and  John  Stuart  Mill  (Mazlish,  1975), 
Andrew  Jackson  (Rogin,  1975),  T.  E.  Lawrence  (Mack,  1976),  Adolf 
Hitler  (Waite,  1977),  Beethoven  (Solomon,  1977),  Samuel  Johnson  (Bäte, 
1977),  B.  F.  Skinner  (Elms,  1981),  and  Richard  Nixon  (Brodie,  1981)and 
studies  of  groups  of  individuals,  such  as  American  Presidents  (Barber, 
1972),  revolutionapr'  leaders  (\Volfenstein,  1967;  Mazlish,  1976),  person- 
ality  theorists  (Stolorow  &  Atwood,  1979),  utopians  (Manuel  ä  Manuel. 
1979),  and  philosophers  (Scharfstein,  1980). 

The  flavor  of  the  field  can  be  given  through  a  sample  of  psychobio- 
graphical argumcnts  or  interpretations.  I  \^il!  brietly  present  examples 
drawn  from  studies  of  Woodrow  Wilson,  Emily  Dickmson,  and  Wilhelm 
Reich.  Of  necessity,  these  interpretations  are  given  in  barest  outline, 
without  the  density  of  detail  needed  to  corroborate  or  disprove  them.. 

Woodrow  Wilson 

In  three  major  executive  positions,  as  President  of  Princeton  Univ2rsity, 
as  Governor  of  New  Jersey,  and  as  President  of  the  United  States, 
Woodrow  Wihon  experienced  a  similar  pattern  of  impressive  early  accom- 
plishm.ents,  foUowed  by  a  period  of  controversy,  ending  in  serious  setbacks 
or  defeats.  The  last  and  most  serious  of  these  urmecessary  defeats  washis 
failure  to  obtain  Senate  ratificaticn  of  the  Versailles  Treaty  which  wculd 
have  led  to  participation  of  the  United  States  in  the  Leagae  of  Nations. 
Edmund  Wilson  (1952)  obser\'ed: 

As  President  of  the  United  States,  he  repeated  after  the  V-'ar  his 
whole  tragedy  as  President  of  Princeton-with  Lcdge  in  the  role  of 
West,  the  League  of  Nations  in  the  place  of  the  quad  system,  ?.nd  the 
Senate  in  the  place  of  the  Princeton  trustees.  It  is  possible  to  observc 
in  certain  lives,  where  conspicucusly  superior  abilities  are  united 
with  serious  deficiencies,  not  the  progress  in  a  career  or  vocation 
that  carries  the  talented  man  to  a  solid  position  or  a  definite  goal, 
but  a  curve  plotted  over  and  over  again  and  always  dropping  from 
some  flight  of  achievement  to  a  steep  descent  into  failure  [p.  322). 


'i/v.. 


%^ 


T-  T-    -^ 


*-;■•, 


rk 


WillUip  McKinley  Runyan 


229 


How  is  such  a  pattern  to  be  explained?  George  and  George's  (1964) 
basic  hypothesis,  derived  from  Lasswell  (1948),  is  that  Wilson 's  inierest  in 
power,  and  his  means  of  exercising  it,  wasbased  on  a  need  to  compensate 
for  damaged  self-esteem.  In  the  stages  of  seeküig  power,  he  could  be 
flexible  and  adaptive,  but  in  confiicis  which  developed  in  the  exercise  of 
power,  he  often  became  rigid  and  self-dcfeatingly  uncomproirjsing.  In 
addition  to  a  personal  need  for  power,  Wilson  also  had  a  desire  for  social 
approval  and  for  feeling  virtuous.  **His  stem  Calvinist  conscience  forbade 
an  unabashed  pursuit  or  use  of  power  for  personal  gratification.  He  could 
express  his  desire  for  power  only  insofar  as  he  ccn\incingly  rationalized  it 
in  terms  of  dtruistic  service,  and  fased  it  with  laudable  social  objcctives" 
(George  &  George,  1964,  p.  117). 

Once  faced  with  poUtical  Opposition  to  z  program  to  which  he  had 
committed  himsslf,  Wilson  painted  his  ov.ti  position  as  the  only  morally 
worthy  one  and  refused  to  compromise,  In  both  the  battiss  with  Dean 
Andrew  West  at  Princeton  over  the  formation  of  a  new  graduate  school 
and  with  the  Senate  Opposition  headed  by  Henry  Cabot  Lodge  ove:  the 
ratification  of  the  Versailles  Treaty,  Wilson  alienated  the  moderate  Cle- 
ments who  could  have  supported  him  and  drove  them  into  the  arms  of  his 
opponents.  In  such  situations  of  conflict,  Wilson's  desire  to  acmeve  a 
worthwhile  political  goal 


became  of  less  importance  than  to  maintain  tquilibrium  oi  [his] 
Personality  system.  He  seems  to  have  experienced  Opposition  to  his 
will  in  such  situations  as  an  unbearable  threat  to  his  self-esteem.  fo 
compromise  in  these  circumsiances  was  to  submit  to  dcirinaticn  in 
the  very  sphere  of  power  and  politica!  Icadership  m  v/hich  he  sought 
tc  repair  his  damcged  self-esteem.  Opposition  to  his  will,  therefore, 
set  into  motion  disruptive  anxieries.  and  brought  to  the  surface 
long-smouldering  aggressive  feeür.gi  thit,  as  a  child,  he  had  not  darcd 
to  express  [George,  1971,  p.  94]. 

Wilson's  behavior  was  traced  back  to  treatment  by  his  father,  z  perfec- 
ticnistic  and  demanding  Presbyterian  minister  who  often  ridiculcd  his  son. 
The  child's  resentment  and  rage  were  never  directly  expressed  toward  his 
father,  but  remained  to  influence  beha\ic:  throughcut  his  adult  Ufe.^ 

Emily  Dickinson 

Emily  Dickinson  v>'as  notorious  for  seclusiveness  in  he:  home  town  of 
.Amherst,  while  her  poetry  was  \1rtualiy  unknown. 


23« 


Psychobiogrsphy  Debate 


As  early  as  her  twenty-second  year  Emily  Dickinson  was  going  out 
of  her  way  to  avoid  meeting  people.  A  year  later  she  wrote  that  she 
was  going  to  church  early  to  avoid  having  'to  go  in  after  all  the 
people  had  got  there*.  By  the  time  she  was  iwcnty-eight  it  was  a 
fixed  'custom'  for  her  to  run  whenever  the  doorbeli  rang.  By  the  age 
of  thirty  she  was  retreating  to  her  room  when  old  friends  callcd  and 
hstening  to  their  voices  from  upslairs.  The  next  year  she  inaugurated 
the  habit  of  dressing  exclusively  in  white  that  she  was  to  maintain 

for  the  rest  of  her  life Evenlually  she  retreated  indoors  alto- 

gether,  and  for  the  last  fifteen  years  of  her  life  the  neighbors  knew 

she  was  there  by  faith  aione On  the  rare  occasions  when  she 

consented  to  Visit  with  old  friends,  she  and  the  visiior  conversed 
from  opposite  sides  of  a  door  left  siightly  ajar.  She  wuuld  not  allow 
a  physician  to  examine  her  during  an  illness,  and  he  was  expected  to 
arrive  at  his  diagnosis  from  a  glimpse  of  her,  fully  clothed,  as  she 
walked  past  a  doorway  (Cody.  1971,  pp.  19-20]. 

Her  reclusiveness  has  been  variously  attributcd  to  a  frustrated  love 
affair,  an  effort  to  conscrve  energy  and  have  time  to  write,  vengefulness 
tov/ards  her  father,  er  her  piain  looks.  Cody  (1971)  argues  that  Eniily 
Dickinson's  disturbance  can  be  attributed  in  part  to  a  troubled  relationship 
vith  her  mother.  Her  mother  is  revealed  in  family  correspondence  as  **an 
naoitually  coinplaining  woman,  subject  to  depression  and  hypochondria. 
She  appears  emotionally  shallow,  self-centered,  ineffectual,  conventional, 
timid,  submissive,  and  not  very  bright"  (p.  42).  Cody  argues  that  it  is 
likely  that  Emily  Dickinson 

experienced  what  she  interpreted  as  a  cruv-l  rejection  by  her  mother. 
Many  of  her  Statements,  her  choice  of  certain  recurring  metaphors 
and  Symbols,  and  the  entire  course  of  her  life,  \iewed  psychoanalyt- 
ically,  argue  for  the  truth  ol  this  assumption.  However,  there  exists 
no  record  of  any  concrete  instance  in  which  Mrs.  Dickinson  took 
such  an  attitude  toward  her  daughter.  Nevertheless,  knowledge 
gained  from  the  clinical  study  of  patients  who  hear  scars  similar  to 
Emily  Dickinson's  is  persuasive  evidence  for  the  existence  in  the 
poet's  life  of  damaging  experiences  comparable  to  theirs  [p.  2] . 

Emily  Dickinson  once  wrote  in  a  letter  that  if  anything  upsetting  hap- 
pened  to  her,  she  ran  home  to  her  brothcr.  "He  was  an  awful  Molher,  but  I 
liked  him  better  than   none"  (Cody,   1971,  p.  42).  Tlie  case   for  the 


f. 

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William  McKinley  Runyan 


231 


existence  of  maternal  deprimtion  is  based,  however,  primarily  on  clinical 
experience,  inferences  from  psychoanalytic  iheory,  and  Interpret ations  of 
her  poetry. 

Wühelm  Reich 

Certain  aspects  of  the  thouglit  of  ^\*illleLm  Reich,  author  oi  Charccter 
Analysis  (1933),  Vie  Mass  Psychology  of  Faschm  (1933),  and  Tlie  Func- 
tion of  the  Orgasm  (1942)  can,  Stolorow  and  Atwood  (1979)  argue,  be 
traced  to  a  traumatic  childhood  experier.ee.  "Our  theis  is  that  Reiches 
theoretical  system  reflects  and  symbolizes  a  profound  personal  staiegle 
which  is  traceable  to  his  childhood  experience  of  his  mother's  suicide"  (p. 

111). 

Tliree  important  themes  run  through  au  of  Reich 's  work:  ''(1)  the 
notion  that  the  expression  of  sexuality  coLicides  with  the  expression  :.nd 
functioning  of  life  in  general;  (2)  the  notion  that  the  hfe-sexual  functions 
are  being  perpetually  suppressed  and  distorted  by  anti-sexual  deatii  forces 
in  the  worid;  and  (3)  the  notion  that  he,  by  an  inner  mes.sianic  imperative, 
be  the  champion  of  life  and  sexuality  in  their  struggle  against  the  lorces  of 
dcath"  (Stolorow  &  Atwood,  1979,  pp.  111-112).  As  a  psychotl^.erapist, 
Reich  was  concemed  with  helping  patienis  dissolve  the  "character  amior" 
or  defenses  which  interfercd  witli  the  free  flow  of  sexual  and  lifo  energies. 
In  his  political  and  biological  writings,  he  emphasized  a  simüar  theme  of 
supporting  these  sexual  and  life  energies  against  oppressive  forces. 

It  seems  plaucible  üiat  these  themes  nii-ir.ing  througli  Reiches  werk  liave 
their  origin  in  a  traumatic  event  that  occurrcd  duunghis  fourteenth  year. 
Reich  discovered  that  his  mother  was  harjig  a  secret  love  affair  with  one 
of  his  tutors.  He  reported  this  to  his  jea  -us  and  cxplosivcly  violent  father. 
His  mother  responded  by  committingsuicide,  which  scemcd  to  be  a  direct 
conseqacnce  of  his  ov,n  actions.  Stolorow  and  Atwood  (1979)  hypoth- 
csize  that  "the  circumstances  of  her  death  constituted  the  nuclear  Situa- 
tion around  which  the  structure  of  his  representational  world  crystal- 

lized If  it  is  assumed  tliat  in  betraying  his  mother's  unfaithfulness  the 

young  Reich  was  acting  out  of  an  idennfication  with  his  father's  authori- 
tarian  and  sexually  restriktive  values,  then  tlie  reasons  for  his  subsequent 
life  of  struggle  against  sexual  repression  begin  to  bccome  clear.  Since  in 
actins  on  the  basis  of  a  narrow  code  of  sexual  morality  he  was  responsible 
for  the  dcath  of  the  one  person  he  loved  above  all  othcrs,  an  immense 
bürden  of  pain  and  guilt  must  have  beer,  generated.  WTiat  could  be  a  betier 


V*. 


232 


■i" 


> 


Pfychobiogrtphy  Dcbttc 


way  to  atone  for  his  fateful  act  of  betrayal  than  devoting  himscif  to  the 
eradication  of  all  those  values  and  ways  of  thinkLng  which  had  motivated 
him?  This  line  of  reasoning  also  sheds  light  on  why  he  regarded  the 
repression  of  sexuality  as  such  a  vicious  and  deadly  force  in  human  affairs. 
This  was  because  his  own  attempt  to  inhibit  his  beloved  mother's  sexuality 
led  directly  to  her  suicide. . . .  [W]e  might  Interpret  his  relentless  struggle 
against  the  death  forces  as  a  sustained  attempt  to  undo  his  act  of  betrayal 
and  thereby  magically  restore  his  mother  to  life"  (pp.  120-122). 

These  three  examples  suggest  the  kinds  of  arguments  and  interpreta- 
tions  offered  in  psychobiography  and  the  kinds  of  analyses  that  have 
aroused  so  much  controversy.  Can  Wilson's  rigid  behavior  be  traced  to 
unconscious  hostUity  in  his  relationship  with  his  father?  Is  it  legitimate  to 
explain  Emily  Dickinson's  reclusiveness  and  stränge  behavior  m  terms  of  a 
postdictive  reconstruction  of  her  relationship  with  her  moiher?  Did  a 
Single  traumatic  event  have  a  life-long  impact  on  the  themes  of  Reich's 
work?  After  ouüining  a  more  systematic  definition  of  the  field  of  psycho- 
biography,  this  chapter  will  examine  a  number  of  the  specific  questions 
that  arise  in  assessing  the  validity  of  such  interpretations.  ' 


DFF!>rTION 

As  a  preliminary  distinction,  psychohistory  can  be  divided  into  two 
rnain  branches:  psychobiography,  dealing  with  the  study  of  indi\iduals, 
and  group  psychohistory,  dealing  wiih  the  psychological  characteristics  or 
formative  experiences  of  groups  such  as  the  Nazi  youth  cohon,  Hiroshima 
surWvors,  or  Vietnam  veterans  (e.g.,  Lifton,  1967;  Loewenberg,  1971). 
The  foUowing  discussion  is  concerned  primarily  with  developing  a  defmi- 
tion  of  psychobiography,  but  it  also  examines  conceptions  of  psycho- 
history  in  general  that  have  Lmplications  for  the  definition  of  osyclio- 
biography. 

One  apparently  sensible  approach  is  to  defme  psychohistory  as  the 
application  of  psychology  to  history,  with  an  associated  definition  of 
ps\'chobiography  as  the  usc  of  psychology  in  biography.  One  such  defini- 
tion is  offered  by  Anderson  (1978):  **The  term  'psychohistorian'  will  be 
used  to  include  any  scholar  who  uses  psychology  in  an  attempt  to 
understand  and  explain  historical  behavior"  (p.  2). 

Although  enviably  simple,  this  definition  has  limitations.  Consider  the 
arg-üment  of  Erikson  and  others  that  every  biography  includes  at  least  the 
use  of  an  implicit  psychology.  Does  all  biography  then  become  psycho- 


.-"^ 


^i 


r^'. 
«t 


t^.- 


Winiim  McKinley  Runytn 


233 


biography?  It  seems  necessary  to  eläborate  this  definition  so  that  it  refers 
to  the  explicit  use  of  formal  or  systematic  psychological  theory.  Thus,  the 
defmition  could  now  read:  Psychobiography  is  the  expücit  use  of  formal 
or  systematic  psychology  in  biography. 

Many  have  defmed  psychohistory  as  the  application  of  psychoanalytic 
theory  to  history  and,  correspondingly,  psychobiography  as  the  applica- 
tion of  psychoanalytic  theory  to  biography.  For  example,  psychobio- 
graphy is  **in  other  words,  the  application  of  psychoanalytic  concepis  to 
biography"  (Friedlander,  1978,  p.  29).  If  this  defmition  is  used,  how  is 
one  to  define  the  application  of  other  psychological  tiieories  to  biography? 
Clearly,  this  defmition  is  too  restrictive.  It  seems  most  sensible  to  defme 
ps>'chobiogra?hy  as  the  use  of  any  explicit  or  formal  psychological  theory 
in  biography,  not  just  the  application  of  psychoanaivtic  theory.  Tnere  may 
be  psychoanalytic  psychobiography,  phenomenological  psychobiography, 
behavioral  psychobiography,  and  so  on. 

A  broader  definition  of  psychobiography  as  biography  emplo\ing  any 
explict  Personality  theory  is  endorsed  by  a  number  of  writers,  such  as  Glad 
(1973)  and  Tucker  (1977).  A  definition  that  encompasses  all  forms  of 
Personality  theory  is  an  improvement,  but  how  are  we  to  characterize  a 
biographical  study  that  makes  use  of  social  psychology,  developmental 
psychology,  or  some  other  branch  of  p3>xhology?  Also,  how  is  one  to 
classify  a  study  making  use  of  conceptual  frameworks,  or  typologies,  or 
data,  or  methods  (such  as  content  analysis,  graphology,  or  personaüty 
assessment  procedures)  but  not  formal  theory  per  se?  A  case  can  be  made 
for  defining  ps>'chobiography  not  s-olely  as  the  application  of  personality 
theor>'  to  biography,  but  also  as  the  application  of  psychological  concerts, 
data,  and  methods  from  any  branch  of  psychology  to  biography.  '  ~  ^ 

In  light  of  these  considerations,  psychobiography  may  be  defined  as  the 
explicit  use  of  systematic  or  form*al  psycholog}'  in  biogriphy.  Three 
aspects  of  this  definition  should  be  noted.  First,  the  field  is  deuned  by  the 
use  of  psychology,  which  may  or  may  not  be  psychoanalytic.  Second,  the 
use  muri  be  explicit  or  visible,  in  erder  to  distinguish  psychobiography 
from  all  those  biographies  which  make  implicit  use  of  commonsense 
psychology.  Third,  the  defmition  refers  not  to  the  application  of  person- 
ality theory  but  to  the  use  of  psycholog\',  which  is  intended  to  include 
within  ps>'chobiography  those  works  drauing  on  the  fuU  ränge  of  re- 
sources  of  the  field  of  psycholog>%  including  psychological  concepts,  data, 
and  methods,  as  well  as  theory,  from  developmental,  ciinical,  social,  di\d 
personaüty  psychology.  Additional  considerations  may  eventually  necessi- 


w 


i 


^mi 


fl:;. 


234 


Psychobiography  Debate 


pJaIü,lJie  revision  of  the  definition  offered  here,  but  it  seems  adequate  for 
present  pilrposes. 


N 


TI{E  QUESTION  OF  IN  ADEQUATE  EVIDENCE 

In  the  controversy  over  psychobiographical  metliods  and  accomplish- 
ments,  one  of  the  most  frequent  criticisms  is  that  interprctaücns  are  based 
on  inadcquate  evidence.  **Tlie  historian's  most  serious  objection  to  psycho- 
history  is  that  sweeping  declarations  about  actions  or  personalities  are 
based  on  sparse  evidence"  (Anderson,  1978,  p.  1  ] ).  A  reviewer  of  Längeres 
Tlic  Mind  of  Adolf  Hitler  (1972)  charges  that  "some  of  Ü\o  most  impor- 
tant  conclusions  of  Langer's  book  are  based  on  non-existent,  unreliable,  or 
misinterpreted  evidence"  (Gatzke,  1973,  p.  400).  The  issue  of  inadequate 
evidence  is  frequently  raised  in  regard  to  psychoaiialytic  biography  in  the 
form:  'Tou  can't  put  the  person  on  the  couch."  For  example,  the 
application  of  psych oaiialysis  to  biography  "must  procecd  without  the 
central  instrument  for  the  investigation  of  the  unconscious:  free  associa- 
tion"(Kohut,  1960,  p.  571). 

The  psychoanalyst  (or  *psychohistorian')  who  wishes  to  use  psycho- 
logical  materials  in  an  eff ort  to  obtain  a  deepcr  understanding  of  a 
historical  figure,  or  in  the  reconstruction  of  histoncal  events,  is, 
however,  confronted  with  major  problems  of  evidence.  In  conduct- 
ing  a  psyclioanalysis  the  investigator  has  only  to  vvait  and  he  is 
likely,  tlirough  the  processes  of  free  association,  intcrprctation,  and 
working  through,  to  obtain  systematic  data  concerning  his  patient's 
past  history,  inotivations,  conflicts,  and  ego  strengths.  To  be  sure, 
resistance  and  the  ego  defenses  distort,  but  this  ver\'  distortion  can 
then  be  the  subject  of  further  analysis  and  vaHdation.  .  .  .  When  we 
try  to  apply  psychological  incthods  to  a  historical  figure.  we  have  no 
such  Cooperation  and  no  ar.alogous  systematic  way  to  obtain  infor- 
mati^on  [Mack,  197],  p.  153]. 

Finally,  there  is  the  criticism  thai  if  early  childhood  experience  is  partic- 
ularly  influential,  tliis  is  just  the  period  about  which  the  psychohistorian  is 
likely  to  have  the  least  infoimation.  "Freudian  psychology  has  not  been 
much  use  to  the  historian,  who  is  usually  unable  to  penetrate  the  bed- 
room,  the  bathroom  or  the  nursery.  If  Freud  is  rieht,  and  if  these  are  the 
places  where  the  action  is,  there  is  not  mucli  the  historian  can  do  about  it" 
(Stonc,  1981,  p.  53). 


1" 

i 


« 


> 


.  «l* 


1 


William  McKinley  Runymn 


235 


There  are,  in  sum,  Claims  of  insufficient  evidence,  of  evidence  of  the 
wrong  kind  (not  enough  free  associaiions  or  dream  reports),  and  not 
enough  evidence  from  the  right  period  (i.e.,  childhood).  Tliese  criticisms 
need  to  be  taken  more  seriously  than  they  have  been.  Both  Freud  in  his 
study  of  Leonardo  and  ErÜLson  in  his  analysis  of  Luther  have  been  severely 
criticized  for  developing  psychological  interpretations  from  inadequate 
data  about  early  experience.  In  the  absence  of  sufficient  liistorical  evi- 
dence, it  is  not  possible  to  develop  credible  psychological  interpretations 
of  the  lives  of  historical  figures. 

W^iat  are  the  Lmplications  of  problems  of  e\idence  for  the  psychobio- 
graphical cnterprise?  Tliey  do  not  mean  that  psychobiography  is  impos- 
sible,  as  has  sometimes  been  suggested,  but  rather  ihat  attention  is  best 
devotcd  to  historical  figures  about  whom  tliere  is  sufficient  evidence  to 
develop  and  test  psychological  explanations.  Also,  in   the  absence  of 
evidence  about  clüldliood  experience,  some  types  of  eady  developmental 
explanations  are  best  avcided,  as  psychological  theoiy  is  not  sufficicndy 
determinate  to  pennit  accuratc  retrodiciions  or  reconstructions  (a  problem 
to  be  discussed  in  ihe  next  section).  Tlie  problems  of  evidence  mean  that 
some  types  of  questions  cannot  be  answered  about  some  individuals,  but 
this  in  no  way  impairs  the  possibility  of  developing  ps>^chological  interpre- 
tations of  the  many   aspccts  of  behavior  and  experience  of  historical 
individuals  for  which  there  is  adequate  evidence.  Third,  on  acomparaiive 
basis,  the  problems  of  evidence  are  not  as  severe  as  they  may  first  appear, 
as  there  are  also  a  numbe:  of  evidehtial  advantages  the  psychobiographer 
has  over  the  psychotherapist. 

It  seems  im'deniable  that  the  ps>chobiographer  typically  haslessaccess 
to  material  such  as  free  associations,  dream.s,  and  transference  reactions 
than  does  the  psychoanalyst.  On  the  other  band,  the  psychobiographer  lias 
the  advantage  of  having  Information  about  a  person  who  has  hved  his  or 
her  entire  life.  The  average  patient  in  psychoanalysis  is  relaüvely  ycung 
and  has  often  not  yet  Hved  througii  important  hfe  cxperiences  such  as  tlie 
rearing  of  children,  the  peak  of  his  er  her  career,  or  the  death  of  parents. 
Reactions  to  these  experiences,  which  may  be  revelatory  of  personality, 
are  thus  not  available  for  Interpret aiion.  But  the  usual  subject  of  psycho- 
biography 

has  lived  his  entire  life  and  has  met  death.  Not  only  the  development 
and  mid-stages  of  his  life  are  available  for  inspection  but  also  its 
ultimate  unfolding  and  final  resüluiion.  This  mcans  that  m  discover- 


Ji!- 


»rr 


1!» 


Wi 


.V. 


236 


Pfychobiofr«phy  Debst« 


ing  the  dominant  psychological  themcs  of  his  subject's  emotional 
evolution  the  psychoanalytic  biographer  has  at  his  disposal  a  broader 
spectrum  of  behavior  through  more  decades  of  life  than  has  the 
analyst  with  a  living  patient  [Cody,  1971,  p.  5]. 

Second,  the  psychobiographer  is  not  limited  to  information  coming 
from  the  subject  alone,  but  may  draw  heavily  on  "outside  sources'* 
(Höfling,  1976,  p.  229).  He  or  she  is  able  to  leam  how  a  variety  of  other 
informants  perceived  the  situations  the  subject  was  in,  and  their  reactions 
to  the  individual's  personality  (Anderson,  1981a).  For  important  public 
figures  confidential  information  about  their  lives  is  sometimes  not  released 
or,  available  until  after  their  death  or  the  death  of  their  immediate 
relatives. 

Third,  if  the  subject  is  a  literary  or  creative  person,  the  psychobio- 
grapher has  a  wealth  of  creative  material,  perhaps  exiprtzzmgum^i-^zycbj^ 
gic2l  States  and  conflicts,  whJch  may,  with  caution,  be  drawn  upon  in 
interpreting  the  subjcct's' personality.  For  example,  "Emily  Dickinson, 
surely,  possessed  a  grester  capacity  for  the  perception  and  discrimination 
of  psychological  processes  and  a  greater  ability  to  find  appropriate  words 
to  express  her  inner  experiences  than  any  patient  who  has  ever  been 
ncyrhcan?Jyzed.  From  this  Standpoint  she  is  the  psychoanalysand  par 
exceUence"  (Cody,  1971,  p.  6).  This  may  put  the  point  a  little  too 
strongly,  but.some  creative  in-divldualshave  been  more  articulately  expres- 
sive of  their  inner  states  and  experiences  than  the  typical  therapy  patient. 

Founh,  there  are  sometimes  Substitutes  for  a  person's  dreams  or  free 
associations  (Anderson,  1981a).  For  example,  Davis  (1975)  analyzes  draw- 
ings  and  caricatures  made  by  Theodore  Roosevelt  in  adolescence  when  he 
portrayed  himself  and  members  of  his  family  turning  into  animals.  Equiva- 
lents  to  free  associations  have  been  found  in  the  "lanj-uac.^  exercises''  of 
archeologist  Heinrich  Schliemann  in  which  he  revealcd  dreams  and  unccn- 
scious  wishes,  and  in  the  conversation  book  written  by  Beethoven  to  cope 
with  his  deafness  (Bergmann,  1973,  p.  842). 

A  fifth  advantage  is  that  the  e\idence  used  in  psychobiography  is 
avaücble  to  ?'\  so  that  original  interpretations  may  be  critically  examined 
and  alternatives  may  be  proposed  and  tested.  In  psychotherapy  the  data 
are  typically  not  publicly  available,  which  miakes  it  less  likely  that  such  a 
corrective  process  can  take  place.  In  sum,  the  psychobiographer  often  has 
access  to  information  not  available  to  the  psychotherapist,  such  as  intor- 


**- 


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WiUItin  McKinley  Runyin 


237 


mation  about  the  person's  whole  life  span,  from  associates  of  the  individ- 
ual,  and  from  the  analysis  of  expressive  or  creative  activities. 

RECONSTRUCTION 

In  rIsponse--tt>-the  paucity-<>f-«^4d^  childhood  experience  and  the 
importance  of  such  experience  within  psycTioanalytic  theory,  psycho- 
biographers  have  sometimes  used  psychoanalytic  theory  to  reconstruct  or 
postdict  what  must  have  happened  in  childhood.  Greenacre  (1955),  for 
exam.ple,  argues  that  childhiood  wants  can  be  **reconstructed  from  knov^Ti 
characteristics,  problems,  and  repetiüve  actions  supported  by  memory 
traces.'*  Indeed,  "the  experienced  psychoanalyst  knows  just  as  defmitely 
as  the  Internist  observing  later  sequeiae  of  tuberculosis . . .  that  the  dcfor- 
mity  is  the  result  of  specific  acts  upon  the  grov^ing  organism"  (p.  107). 
Such  reconstractions  have,  however,  not  gone  uncriticized,  even  when 
executed  with  considerable  sophistication.  Erikson,  fo:  example,  has  been 
criticized  for  reconstructing  Luther's  relationship  to  liis  mciher  on  ihe 
basis  of  adult  behavior. 

In  his  study  of  the  young  Luther.  Erikson  üterally  invents  little 
Martinas  relation  to  his  mother,  using  as  a  bisis(as  a  *document')  the 
behavior  of  Luther  the  man. .  .  .  Erikson  does  not  Interpret  a  repeti- 
tive  behavior  on  young  Luther's  part  in  terms  of  an  anconscious 
dynamic;  he  jumps  fron  a  presumed  characteristic  of  the  Pveformer  • 
to  the  inferential  reconstruction  of  essenüal  data  about  the  iaiter's 
family  environment  [Friedlander,  1978,  p.  27]. 

The  reconstrucrion  of  specific  life  evcnts  is  not  as  extreme  as  the 
practice  of  hagiographers.  who  sometimes  reconstructed  entire  lives  if 
information  was  unavailable.  Agr.eilus,  a  Bisho?  of  Ravenni  in  the  nmth 
Century,  while  compieting  a  series  cf  hves  of  his  predecessors  in  that 
Position,  confessed:  "In  order  that  there  might  not  be  a  break  in  the  series, 
I  have  composed  the  life  myself,  with  the  help  of  God  and  the  prayers  of 
the  bretheren"  (Clifford,  1962,  p.  x).  Seme  historians  are  outraged  at  the 
more  lim.ited  psychobicgraphic?J  practice  of  reconstructing  particular 
events  or  relationships  and  feel  that  it  is  no  more  acceptable  than  the 
reconstructive  techniques  of  the  Bishop.  The  practice  of  retrodicticn  is 
especially  trcubling  when  an  earlier  event  is  retrodicted  and  then  later 
assumed  to  have  been  firmly  established.  Tliis  practice  has  been  roundly 


258 


Psychobiosnphy  Debmte 


criticized  both  by  hislorians  and  by  some  psych oanalysts  (e  g    Wyatt 
1956). 

Before  concluding  that  retrodiction  is  never  justified  in  psycho- 
biography,  let  us  consider  one  of  the  strengest  arguments  for  reconstruc- 
tion,  and  one  of  its  niost  persuasive  examples. 

Psychoanalysis  is  not  alone  among  sciences  in  providing  a  means 
whcreby  the  existence  of  what  is  not  directly  perceptible  can  be 
ferred.  Thus,  the  psychoanalytic  interpretation  of  the  life  of  a 
histoncäl  figure  is  in  certain  respccts  comparable  to  the  reassembling 
of  a  fossil  skeleton.  y\nd  when  the  life  under  consideration  has  been 
rent  by  a  psychological  calaclysm,  the  interpretive  reconstruction  is 
not  unüke  the  piecing  together  of  the  fragments  of  an  aircraft  that 
has  cxploded  in  flight. 

In  the  first  instance  the  paleontologist  dovetails  the  scaitered  bones 
according  to  the  laws  of  coniparative  anatomy;  the  progression  of 
vertebrae,  for  example,  liave  a  known  and  more  or  kss  constant 
relationship  to  each  other  throughout  the  animal  kingdom.  In  the 
second  example,  the  engineer  assembles  the  shattercd  metal  of  the 
aircraft  on  a  scaffold  corresponding  to  the  known  dimensions  of  the 
type  of  plane  to  which  the  wrcckage  belongs;  when  all  the  available 
r::^ces  are  laid  out  in  this  way,  a  sequence  of  Stresses  becomes 
discernible  whosc  concentric  v/aves  lead  back  to  and  establish  the 
point  of  origin  of  the  explosion.  In  either  example,  what  provides 
the  gestalt  and  guides  the  interpretation  placed  on  each  discrete  ■ 
particle  is  a  body  of  general  knowledge-the  laws  of  bone  stracture 
in  the  one  casc,  the  structure  or  blueprints  in  the  other  [Codv  1971 
PP.  1-2).  -  . 

Cody  then  argues  that  psychoanalytic  theoo^  has  discovered  conflicts 
and  motives  believcd  to  be  operant  to  some  degree  in  all  lives,  and  that 
when  many  pieces  of  evidence  are  available  the  theorv'  can  somctimes  be 
used  to  perceive  the  relationships  among  the  autlientic  bits  of  evidence  and 
to  make  inferences  aboul  the  rough  structure  of  missing  pieces  of  evi- 
dence. This  is  equivalent  to  making  plaster  bones  in  reconstructing  a  fossil 
skeleton.  **One  such  *plaster  bone'  in  the  present  study  is  the  assumption 
that  carly  in  Emily  Dickinson*s  Jife  she  experienced  what  she  interpreted 
as  a  cruel  rejection  by  her  mother.  Many  of  her  Statements,  her  choice  of 
certain  recurring  metaphors  and  Symbols,  and  the  entire  coursc  of  her  Iife, 
viewed  psychoanalytically,  argue  for  ihe  truth  of  this  assumntion"  (Codv 
197J,p.  2). 


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\^'niiam  McKinley  RunytD 


239 


Is  such  a  practice  always  to  be  avoided?  Perhaps  there  are  a  few  cases  in 
which  extensive  evidence  is  available  and  in  which  a  clear  and  weU- 
supported  iheoretical  structure  exists  which  would  justify  the  tentative 
reconstruction  of  the  gross  features  of  an  unknown  event.  Even  so, 
biograpliical  reconstruction  is  extremely  risk>^  and  m  most  cases  unjusti- 
fied.  In  light  of  the  indeterininacy~T)f4eyeJppniental  theory,  the  lack  of 
envpirical  support  for  psychoanalytic-genetic-thfory,  and  tfie  ffirrf^ple 
possible "pröcesses  Te ading  to  any  given  outcome,  the  case  for  banning 
reconstruction  altogether  in  psychobiography  is  a  fairly  strong  one.  But  if 
retrodiction  is  to  be  practiced  at  all,  it  is  essential  that  reconstruciions 
clearly  be  labelcd  as  such  and  kept  distinct  from  events  for  which  there  is 
documentary  evidence. 

REDUCTIONISM 

Another  common  charge  against  psychobiography  is  that  of  ''reduction- 
ism."  One  form  of  the  reductionist  criiique  is  that  psychological  factors 
are  ovcremphasized  at  the  expense  cf  extemal  social  and  historical  factors. 
**ln  turning  to  Freud,  historians  interested  in  the  psychological  aspect  of 
their  discipline  have  concentrated  upon  the  internal  biographies  of  Lndivid- 
uals  to  the  almost  complete  exclusion  of  the  society  in  which  ihe  lives  of 
their  subjects  take  place"  (Hundert,  1972,  pp.  467-468).  Or,  *\inlike 
economic,  social,  poHtical  or  religious  infiuences,  the  subject's  'psychol- 
0^''  is  considercd  to  be  the  source.  His  mental  State  determines  all  other 
variables,  and  then  responds  to  them"  (Anderson,  1978,  p.  15). 

A  second  Version  of  the  reductionist  criticism  is  that  psychobiography 
focuses  excessively  on  psychopathologicaLpiocesses  and  gives  insufficient 
attention  to  normality^7n(r(5feativity.  Parüciilarly  in  the  carly  history  of 
ps>'chobiography,  works  were  somethnes  calied  "pathographies,"  "Ihereby 
cmpliasizing  the  basic  concem  with  abnormality  and  leading  to  the  conclu- 
sion  that  what  psychoanalysis  had  to  offer  to  an  understanding  of  the  hves 
of  grcai  men  consisted  mainly  in  a  documentation  and  explication  of  their 
foibles  and  follies"  (Meyer,  1972,  p.  373). 

A  third  type  of  reductionism  is  to  explain  adult  character  and  behavior 
exclusively  in  terms  of  early  diildhood  experience  while  neglecting  later 
forinative  processes  and  infiuences.  "What  is  chiefly  wrong  with  the 
convcntional  psychoanalytic  biography  is  its-cxiide  unilatejaÜ«».  It  sug- 
gests  a  one-to-one  relationship,  aij^uing  that  the  protagonist  did  this  or  that 
because  of  some  painful  experience  in  early  childhood"  (Hughes,  1964, 


F- 


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f 


1^^ 


240 


Piychoblogrsphj  Debtte 


p.  58).  Erikson  (1969)  identified  this  forni  of  reductionism  as  "origin- 
ology,**  or  '"the  habitual  effort  to  find  the  *causes'  of  a  man's  whole 
devclopment  in  his  childhcod  conflicts"  (p.98).  Two  other  reductive 
fallacies  are 

•*the  critical  period  fallacy/*  which  attempts  to  build  a  study  of  a 
man's  life  around  a  certain  **key**  period  of  development,  and 
"eventism,"  the  discoveiy'  in  some  important  episode  in  a  man*s  life 
of  not  cnly  the  prototype  of  his  behavior  but  the  tuming  point  in 
his  hfe  from  which  all  subsequent  events  and  work  are  derived.  Bcth 
these  oversimplifications  lend  artistic  grace  to  a  biographical  study, 
but  also  impose  unnatural  ordcr,  shape,  and  direction  to  the  often 
rather  amorphous  nature  and  fitful  course  of  a  human  life,  even  that 
of  a  great  man  [Mack,  1971,  p.  156], 


In  response  to  these  charges  of  reductionism,  it  must  be  acknowledged 
that  too  many  psychobiographies  have  suffered  from  üaws  such  as  over- 
emphasizing  the  psychological,  the  pathological,  or  theinfluence  of  child- 
hood  conflicts.  A  number  of  contemporary  psychobiographers  (e.g.,  Bäte, 
1977;  Erikson,  1969;  Mack,  1976)  are,  however,  aware  of  such  dangers 
anc!  are  avoidlng  them  by  integrating  the  psychological  with  the  social  and 
histcrical,  by  analyzing  not  just  pathology  but  also  strengths  and  adaptive 
capac  lies,  and  by  studying  formative  influences  not  just  in  chüdhocd  but 
throughout  the  life  span. 

THE  RELATlONSHir  OF  CHILDHOOD  EXPERIENCE 
TO  ADULT  BEHAVIOR 

One  of  the  most  complex  and  difficult  issues  in  the  field  of  psycho- 
biography  is  that  of  assessing  the  influence  of  childhood  experience  on 
adult  character  and  behavior.  In  psychoanalytically  oriented  psychobiog- 
raphies,  aspects  of  adult  behavior  are  often  attributed  to  circumstances 
and  experiences  in  childhood.  In  the  worst  cases,  "hypotheses  about  early 
developments  are  speculatively  deduced  from  adult  events  and  thcn  used 
to  explain  those  events"  (Izenberg,  1975,  p.  139).  Li  more  fortunate  cases, 
available  evidence  about  childhood  experience  is  interpreted  as  an  impor- 
tant causal  determinant  of  aduh  perscnality  and  behavior.  This  practice  of 
attributing  important  causal  influence  to  early  experience  is  consistent 


William  McKinley  Runyan 


241 


i*'** 


^^ 


j^' 
^ 


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with  dassical  psychoanalytic  theories  of  personality  development.  Freud 
(1938  [1969])  stated,  for  example:  '*Analytic  experience  has  convinced  us 
of  the  complete  truth  of  the  assertion  so  often  to  be  heard  that  the  child  is 
psychologically  father  to  the  adult  and  ihat  the  events  of  his  first  years  are 
of  paramount  importance  for  his  whole  later  life"  (p.  187). 

Tliis  practice  of  interpreting  the  whole  hfe  in  terms  of  early  childhood 
experience  has,  however,  come  under  attack  from  a  number  of  different 
directions.  Historians  have  challenged  the  causal  interpretations  provided 
for  particular  cases:  "I  just  do  not  ihLik  that  such  things  as  the  extermina- 
tion  of  sLx  million  Jews  can  be  explained  by  the  alleged  faci  that  Hiiler's 
mother  was  killed  by  treatment  given  her  by  a  Jewish  doctor  in  an  attempt 
to  eure  her  Cancer  of  the  breast;  or  tliat  Luther's  defiance  of  the  Roman 
church  can  be  explained  by  the  bmtal  way  he  was  treated  by  liis  father  or 
by  his  clironic  constipation"  (Stone,  1981,  p.  220).  Stone's  Statement 
exaggerates  the  issues,  though,  as  there  is  an  important  difference  between 
claiming  that  childhood  experience  is  the  cause  of  later  events  versus 
arguing  that  it  is  a  partial  or  contributing  cause  of  individual  behavior. 
Even  psychoanalytically  oriented  psychobiographers  criticize  the  practice 
of  positing  childhood  experience  as  the  only  cause  of  later  behavior,  as  in 
Erikson's  (1969)  critique  of  ''originolog}'"  and  Mack's  (1971)  critique  of 
the  critical  period  fallacy,  and  of  the  fallacy  of  attributing  all  subsequent 
development  to  a  Single  important  cvent. 

From  another  direction,  empirical  tests  of  Freudian  theor>',  revicv/ed  in 
Kline^l972)  and  Fisher  and  Greenberg  (1977),  raise  scrious  questions 
about  r.^pects  orpfetniVihecrirrTrfTTvCu^ 

there  is  som.e  evidence  about  Clusters  of  traits  consistent  with  Freud's 
conception  of  oral  character,  and  substantial  evidence  about  orderiiness, 
obstinancy,  and  parsimony  clustering  togcther  as  Freud  suggested  in  the 
anal  or  obsessive  character,  the  bulk  of  quantitative  empirical  studics  do 
nct  demonsuaie  connections  betv/een  cl'.aracter  types  and  specific  child- 
hood experiences  associatcd  with  feeding  or  toilet-training.  Wlietlier  more 
methodologically  scphisticatcd  studies  in  the  future  will  provide  more 
Support  for  these  theories  is  an  open  quesrion,  but  at  present,  a  substantial 
number  of  studies  do  not  support  them  and  provide  little  reason  for 
belicving  them  to  be  valid. 

Even  if  the  specific  connections  betvveen  early  psychosexual  experience 
and  adult  character  which  Freud  suggested  are  not  supported,  this  does 


^ 
{' 


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1' 


141 


Psychobiocmphy  Debatc 


not  resolve  the  rnore  general  issue  of  connections  between  childliood 
experience  and  adult  behavior.  ainical  experience  in  some  cases  seems  to 
provide  apparently  compelling  evidence  of  connections  between  childhood 
experience  and  adult  behavior.  This  may,  of  course,  be  no  more  than  a 
methodological  artifact,  but  it  may  also  be  tliat  such  clear-cut  connections 
do  exist  for  some  individuals,  even  though  not  in  aörScrofui^niQreLiecent 
.jdevelopmejityn  psychqanab^^  as  in  the  work  of  Mahler,  Winni- 

..  cott,  or  Kohut,  provide  more  complex   waysof'analyzing  childhood 
expenence-  which  may'pTO\ide"löunderT^n!TtoipnsTd^  cliiia'-^ 

hood  expenertce  to  adult  behavior>.Thlr'a7the  study  of  childhoöcl  experi- 
ence may  be  useful  in  developing  interprctations  of  adult  behavior,  or 
forming  hypotheses  about  the  meaning  of  aspects  of  an  individuars  adult 
behavior,  even  if  a  causal  connection  between  the  two  is  not  exphcitly 
argued. 

The  study  of  childhood  experience  may  be  of  some  importance  in 
psychobiography,  but  perhaps  not  in  tlic  v/ay  suggestcd  by  classical 
Freudian  theory.  There  has,  in  receni  years,  bcen  a  widespread  shift  in 
Ihinking  within  developmental  and  personality  psychology  about  the  influ- 
ence  of  early  childhood  experience.  In  contrast  to  earher  beUefs  about  the 
crucial  impact  of  childhood  experience  on  adult  behavior  (e.g.,  Bowlby, 
.'^52;  Bloom,  1964;  Kelley,  1955),  thcre  has  been  a  growing  beiief  that 
the  efTects  of  early  deprivation  can  be  substantially  modified  by  later 
experience  and  that  behavior  and  personality  are  shaped  and  changed 
throughout  the  lifo  course  (e.g.,  Brim  &  Kagan,  1980;  Qarke  Sc  Qarke, 
1976;  Mische!,  1968;  and  Rutter,  1979).  The  argument  is  not  that  eariy 
childhood  experiences  have  no  effects,  but  rather  that  the  effects  of  such 
experiences  are  mediated  by  intervening  experiences  and  contingencies, 
and  that  personality  and  beha\nor  are  continuously  shaped  throughout  the 
hfe  cycle.  ^ 

Eariy  experience,  of  whatever  form,  rarely  has  a  dircct  impact  on  adult 
personality;  rather,  early  experience  shapes  early  personality,  whichinÜu- 
ences  the  kinds  of  later  en\ironments  one  is  Hkely  to  encounter,  v^'hich  in 
tum  influences  later  experience,  which  affects  personality,  and  so  on  in  an 
intcractive  cycle  (\Vachtel,  1977).  The  effects  of  early  experiences  are 
mediated  through  a  chain  of  behavior-determining,  person-detemiining, 
and  situation-determining  processes  throughout  the  life  course  (Runyan, 
1978).  Thus,  any  given  event  or  experience  can  have  a  variety  of  possible 
effects  and  meanings,  depending  on  initial  personality  structure,  initial 
environment,  and  the  causal  structure  of  subsequently  encountered  envi- 


i^r^"-.'  •- 


n* 


IT 


>ViUiam  McKinley  Runyan 


243 


ronments  and  experiences.  Furthermore,  the  causal  structure  of  the  life 
course  is  such  that  there  is  usually  a  variety  of  alternative  paths  or 
processes  leading  to  any  given  outcome  (Runyan,  1980). 

What  are  the  implications  for  psychobiography  of  this  transactional 
View  of  human  development  in  which  personality  ismodifiable  throughout 
the  life  span?  First,  adult  personality  cannot  be  attributed  directly  to 
specific  childhood  experiences,  and  particulariy  not  to  specific  experiences 
with  breastfeeding  or  toilet-training,  which  empirical  evidence  indicates  are 
not  substantial  determinants  of  adult  outcome.  Second,  if  there  are  alter- 
native paths  or  processes  to  any  given  outcome,  then  in  most  instances 
postdiction  is  to  be  avoided.  Third,  if  evidence  on  early  experience  is 
available,  the  effects  of  such  experience  should  not  be  applied  directly  to 
adult  personality,  but  rather  traced  through  a  sequence  of  inter/ening 
stages  and  processes. 

The  folloNving  example  from  Cody's  (1971)  study  of  Emily  Dickinson 
illustrates  such  a  sequential-interactional  model  of  analysis  in  psycho- 
biography: 

[Olne  sees  a  circular  process  inimical  to  the  woman  but  kindly  to 
the  artist;  feelings  of  rejection  by  the  mothcr  lead  to  hostility  and 
bitter  denunciation  of  the  mother  and  what  she  represents.  As  a 
result,  guilt  feehngs  are  engendered  that  in  turn  evoke  a  need  for 
punishment  that  is  partly  satisfied  through  sclf-inflicted  social  depri- 
vation brought  about  by  means  of  neurctic  s>'mptoms.  The  ens^aing 
loneliness  and  frastration  then  feed  the  art  in  ways  that  have  been 
nientioned.  The  art  in  tum,  providing  its  own  compensatory  and 
self-reinforcing  gratification,  demands  further  sclf-denial .  .  .,  which 
is  brought  about  by  the  perpetuation  of  the  estrangenient  from  and 
enmity  toward  mother,  rehgion,  God,  and  society.  These  hostile 
rcjewtions  in  tum  evokc  more  guil:  feelings  and  further  suffering  and 
a  continuation  of  the  endless  cycle  [pp.  498-499 1 . 

The  study  of  formative  influences  throughout  the  Hfe  cycle  makes 
analysis  more  complicated,  but  it  also  has  certain  advantages  for  psycho- 
biography in  that  early  childhood  experience,  for  which  evidence  is  usually 
unavailable,  is  no  longer  so  predominantly  important.  Attention  can  then 
be  directed  to  those  formative  periods  and  processes  for  which  adequate 
evidence  is  more  oftcn  available.-One  of  the  advantages  of  Eriksonian 
theory,  in  whicli'Character  and  identity  are  imponaiuly  shaped  at  later 


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244 


Psychobioerj  phy  Debati 


ages,  is  that  the  psych obiographer  is  more  likely  to  have  usabie  evidence 
on  Ulis  period  of  the  subject's  life  (Stone,  1981 ,  p.  53). 

There  are,  in  sum,  several  serious  difficulties  wilh  psychobiographical 
analyses  that  attribute  adult  pattems  of  beha\ior  to  particular  childhood 
experiences.  Those  analyses  which  do  so  an  the  basis  of  psychodynamic 
theories  of  psychosexual  development  are  problematic  hecause  of  the  bulk 
of  cmpirical  evidence  thai  does  not  support  such  theories.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  reciprocal-interactive  view  of  development  currently  advocated 
in  life  span  developmental  psychology  and  in  personality  theory  is  not  far 
enough  advanced  to  be  widely  used.  \Vhat  should  the  psychobiographer  do 
in  light  of  these  difficulties?  One  recommendation  is  to  proceed  sparingly 
with  Statements  aitributing  adult  behavior  to  childliood  experiences,  depri- 
vations,  or  conflicts.  In  reference  to  the  study  of  Woodrow  AVilson  dis- 
cussed  earlier,  Brodie  (1957)  states  that  the  authors  "are  inevitably  on 
weaker  ground  when  they  try  to  explain  the  genesis  of  the  WÜsonian 
neurosis  than  when  they  describc  the  manner  in  which  it  expressed  itsclf 

full-blov^T] It  is  one  thing  to  observe  compulsive  behavior  and  identify 

h  for  what  it  is;it  is  quite  another  to  find  the  original  causes"  (p.415). 

An  extensive  evaluative  review  of  work  in  psychobiography  and  psycho- 
histor}'  by  Crosby  and  Crosby  (1981)  reaches  a  similar  conclusion  about 
the  limitations  of  explanations  in  terms  of  childhood  expcrience.  The 
Crosbys  applied  a  quantitative  rating  System  to  79  articles  and  books  in 
political  psychobiography,  and  in  Ught  of  their  criteria  (e.g.,  adequacy  of 
evidence,  consideration  of  plausible  rival  hypotheses,  and  references  to 
relevant  theoretical  and  einpirical  literature),  those  studies  focusing  on 
''coherent  whole"  or  paitem  explanations  of  adult  behavior  were  rated 
more  positively  than  those  relying  on  causal  explanations  in  terms  of 
cliildhood  expericnce. 

Psychology  can  be  uscd  for  many  purposes  other  than  drawing  causal 
conncctions  between  childhood  experience  and  adult  beha\ior.  It  can  be 
useful  für  identifying  patterns  in  current  behavior,  for  providing  concepts 
and  categories  for  analyzing  experience,  for  suggesting  hypotheses  about 
the  meaning  of  circumstances  or  events  for  an  individual,  for  providing 
normative  or  comparative  data  about  phcnomena  of  intcrest,  for  providing 
methods  to  use  in  analyzing  biographical  evidence,  and  so  on.  It  may  be 
that  the  greatest  contributions  of  psychology  to  biography  lie  in  just  such 
areas,  in  the  conceptualization  and  interprctation  of  biographical  evidence, 
v.'ithout  always  attempting  to  relate  adult  behavior  to  childhood  experi- 
ence. 


Wniiam  McKinley  ^unyan 


245 


^i|*tf^ 


^Kru». 


TRANSHISTORICAL  AND  CROSS-CULTITIAL  GENERA UTY 
IN  PSYCHOLOGICAL  THEORY 

Psychobiographers  and  psychohistorians  are  often  criticized  for  apply- 
ing  a  parocliial  psychological  theory  to  individuals  of  other  cultures  and 
hi:>torical  periods.'If  psychoanalysis  was  developed  to  explain  the  behavior 
of  neurotic  mJddle-  and  upper-class  Vlennese  at  the  turn  of  the  twentietli 
Century,  how  can  it  be  appropriately  used  to  explain  the  behavior  of  those 
in  other  cultures  and  historical  periods?  The  problem  was  clearly  fonnu- 
lated  in  1938  by  historian  Lucien  Febvre:  "How  can  we  as  iüstcrians 
make  use  of  psychology  which  is  the  product  of  obsci^ation  cairied  out  on 
twentieth-century  man,  in  order  to  interpret  the  actions  of  the  mar.  of  the 
past?"  (quoteu  in  Gilmore,  1979b,  p.31).  It  is  alleged  that  m^my  psycho- 
lüstorians 

begin  by  postulating  that  there  is  a  theor\'  of  human  behavior  which 
tränscends  history.  This  claim  to  possess  a  scientific  syslem  of 
explanation  of  human  behavior  based  on  proven  clinical  data,  which 
is  of  universal  validity  irrespective  of  time  and  place,  is  v/holly 
unacceptable  to  the  historians  since  it  ignores  the  critical  importance 
of  changing  context—religious,  moral.  cultural,  economic,  social,  and 
political.  It  is  a  claim,  moreover.  tliai  has  recently  been  rejected  by 
'Tiany  of  the  more  perceptive  .members  of  the  psychological  profes- 
sionitself  [Stone,  1981,  p^Oj. 


One  final  cxpression  of  this  critique  is  that 

the  psychohistorian  employs  theoretical  modeis  and  cognitive 
assumptions  created  from  the  material  of  the  preseni-and  then 
imposes  them  on  the  past.  In  so  doing,  he  or  she  must  assume  that  in 
most  fundamental  ways  all  people,  at  all  places,  at  all  times.  have 
viewed  themselves  and  the  worid  about  them  in  substantially  the 
same  fashion.  If  man  qua  man  were  not  always  essentially  the  same, 
the  behavior  of  many  past  individuals  (to  say  nothing  of  whole 
cultures)  would  be  psychoanaiytically  unintelligible.  Their  actions 
and  motives  would  be  operating  at  a  level  beyond  the  reach  of 
psychoanalytic  concepts  and  suppositions,  which  are  products  of  the 
direct  study  of  primarily  urban,  post-industrial,  literate,  twentieth- 
century,  Western  individuals-and  mostly  **abnormal"  and  demo- 
graphicaily  nonrepresentative  ones  at  that.  .  .  .  It  thus  seems  clear 
that  even  if  psychoanalytic  theury  were  an  effective  technique  for 


I 


"•>' 

* 

.1*^. 

V--* 


246 


Psycbobiocnphy  DelMUe 


I 


understanding  the  world  of  the  present,  it  would  be  a  hopcless 
exercise  in  intellectual  myopia  to  apply  it  to  the  past  [Stahnard, 
1980,  pp.  121,1431. 

\Vhat  is  the  vaDdity  of  such  criticisms?  First,  it  must  be  acknowledged 
that  some  of  the  charges  are  tnie,  that  psych obiographers  have,  at  times, 
been  unaware  of  cultural  and  historical  differcnces,  which  has  biased  their 
interpretations.  As  one  example,  Langer  (1972)  is  criticized  for  seeming 
"largcly  unaware  of  the  family's  social  setting  or  of  the  customs  of  the 
time.  It  srniply  will  not  do  to  cite  Hitler's  addressing  his  father  as  'Herr 
Vater'  (Mr.  Father)  as  evidence  of  patemal  tyranny  and  oppression. 
Family  formality  was  widespread  in  nineteenth-century  Europe,  and  did 
not  necessarily  indicate  either  lack  of  filial  affection  or  the  presence  of 
societal  authoritarianism"  (Orlow,  1974,  p.  135).  This  problem  is  common 
to  aU  biographical  and  historical  writing  and  is  not  insurmountable;  the 
psychobicgrapher  simply  must  leam  about  the  cultural  and  historical 
context  of  his  or  her  subject. 

It  can  readily  be  agreed  tliat  eihnocentrism^4>lcmporocer.trism  are  to 
be  avoided  in  interpreting  individuais  irom  other  culturcs  and  historical 
periods.  Does  this,  however,  cause  any  insoluble  problems  for  psycho- 
biocraphy?  I  think  not,  as  there  are  a  variety  of  effective  responses  to  the 
problem.  As  a  first  step,  the  psychobiographer  must  learn  enough  about 
the  subject's  social  and  historical  context  to  have  an  adequate  frame  of 
rcference  for  interpreting  tlie  mcaning  of  specific  actions,  Statements,  and 
practices. 

Sccond,  the  study  of  relevant  comparison  groups'and  of  local  contexts 
within  the  subject's  social  and  historical  world  can  help  in  developing 
understandings  of  the  individual  (Anderson,  1981b).  However,  understand- 
ings  derived  from  studies  of  similar  groups  are  not  likely  to  be  sufficient  in 
themselves,  because  we  are  ofteu  most  interestcd  in  those  individuais  who 
stand  out  significantly  from  other  Renaissance  painters,  othernineteenth- 
century  writers,  other  twcntieth -Century  American  Presidents,  and  so  on. 
It  is  also  important  to  conduct  idiographic  studies  of  the  individual  in 
Order  to  reveal  aspects  of  his  or  her  personality,  Situation,  and  cxperience 
that  may  differentiate  him  or  her  from  others  in  the  same  social  and 
historical  context  (Runyan,  1982).  Finally,  if  we  accept  Kluckhohn  and 
Murray 's  (1952)  classic  Statement  that  persons  are  in  some  ways  like  all 
others.  like  some  others,  and  Üke  no  others,  then  it  follows  tliat  at  least 
some  psychological  conceptualizations  and  theories  will  hold  universally 


WiDiam  McKinley  Runjan 


247 


*-  . 


(see  Lonner,  1979;  Triandis,  1978)  and  thus  can  be  appropriateiy  applied 
to  any  psychobiographical  subject.  The  context-boundedness  of  many 
psychological  theories  is  not  unrecognized  by  psychologists  (e^.,  Cron- 
bach,  1975;  Gergen,  1973),  and  it  is  necessary  to  examine  more  closely 
what  aspects  of  psychological  conceptualizations  and  theories  can  and 
cannot  be  appUed  acfoss  different  cultures  and  historical  periods.  This  is  a 
difficult  task  which  requires  psychology  to  become  more  closely  inte- 
grated  with  the  other  social  sciences,  panicularly  with  liistory  in  tcsting 
the  transhistorical  generality  or  specificity  of  its  propositions  (Simonton, 
1981),  and  with  anthropology  and  sociolog;'  in  exploring  the  cross<ultural 
generality  of  its  dieories  (Triandis  &  Lambert,  1979). 

In  Short,  errors  have  sometimes  been  made  in  naively  assumirg  that 
psychoanal>tic  or  other  psychological  theory  could  automatically  be 
applied  to  individuais  in  any  cultural  or  historical  setting,  but  this  does  not 
mean  that  psychohistory  does  not  work  or  cannot  work.  Rather,  psycho- 
biographical Interpretation  is  a  complex  three-tiercd  intellectual  enterprise 
which  needs  to  draw  not  just  on  those  theories  which  hold  universally  but 
also  on  group  andnröTrtex4-«5.pcciric,.,g^«erali2alions,  and  on  idiographic 
studies  of  the  particular  individual. -  - 


CONCLUSION 

This  chapter  has  reviewed  a  wide  ränge  of  opinions  about  psychobiogra- 
phy  and  examined  arguments  and  examples  related  toissues  including  the 
problem  of  inadequate  evidence,  historical  reconstruction,  reductionism, 
the  influence  of  childhood  experience  on  adult  behavior,  and  the  cross- 
cuhural  and  tnjishistorical  generality  of  psychological  theory.  Due  to 
limitations  of  space,  it  has  not  been  possible  to  discuss  a  number  of  otlier 
important  issues,  such  as  the  reiationship  cf  the  bicgrapher  to  his  or  he: 
subject  (Anderson,  19Slb;  Erikson,  1975,  Mack,  1971),  ethical  issues  in 
the  study  of  public  figures  (American  Psychiatric  Association,  1976;  Elms, 
1976;  Höfling,  1976;  Runyan,  in  press),  and  the  logic  of  explanation  in 
psychobiography  (Crosby,  1979;  Runyan,  1981).  Progress  m  psycho- 
biography  will  depend  on  advancements  in  personality.  social,  clinical,  and 
developmental  psychology,  as  well  as  on  work  within  its  own  borders.  in 
turn,  psychobiographical  inquir>'  proNides  an  opportunity  for  exploring 
the  extent  to  which  the  discipUne  of  psychology  can  or  cannot  illurninate 
the  Hfe  and  experience  of  particular  individuais. 


•sT 


24S 


Pfycbobiogriphy  Debate 


NOTES 


1.  Useful  historical  rcviews  are  contained  in  Anderson  (1978),  Bergmann  (1973) 
Coles  (1975),  Garraty  (1954.  1957),  Qad  (1973),  and  Mack  (1971),  and  bibüofra' 
phies  m  Cremerius  (1971),  DeMause  (1975),  and  Gilmore  (1976,  1979a,  1979b). 
Therc  are  also  now  Journals  devoted  to  the  field  with  the  Psychohistory  Review  and 
the  Journal  of  Psychohistory,  uith  occasional  contributions  in  Journals  such  as 
Bioi^raphy,  the  Journal  of  Interdisciplinary  History,  and  a  great  variety  of  other 
Journals  in  history,  literature,  poütical  sciencc,  psychoanalysis,  and  psychology. 

2.  This  interpretation  of  Wüson's  behavior  has  been  challenged  in  Weinstein 
Anderson,  and  Link  (1978)  and  Weinstein  (1981)  with  an  alternative  theory  that 
Wüson  suffered  from  a  series  of  smaU  strokes  in  bis  later  years,  but  defended  with 
additional  evidence  in  George  and  George  (1981). 


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Mazlisl'.i  *   i976. 

Bool-^^   C.  Some  reflections  on  the  con'^-Ibuiion  of  psychoanalysis  to  biography. 

Meyct.  1:  „luilysis and  Comemporary  Science,  1972,7.  373-391. 

Ps\  i  'w  ptrsonality  c5  assement.  New  York:  John  Wilcy,  1968. 
Mische!,.    A.  The  iron  cagc:  An  historicjl  mrcrpretaticn  of  Max  Weber.  New  York. 
Mitzinai'.;  ^  ^  Dunlap,  1969. 

Gro^r>    Thc  significance  of  time  and  place  in  psychohistory.  Journal  of  Intcrdis- 

Orl<'^v,  ■     ,'  tii^tory,  1974,7.  131-138. 
ciplr 


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250 


Psychobiouraphy  Debate 


Friedlaiider,  S.  History  and  psych oa na lysis.   New  York:  Holmes  &  Meier,   1978. 
(Orifiinally  published,  1975.) 

Freud,  S.  Leonardo  da  Vinci  and  a  memory  of  his  childhood.  Standard  Edition  12, 
3-82.  London:  Ho^'arth  Press.  1957.  (Originally  published,  1910.) 

Freud,  S.  An  outline  of  psychoanalysis.  Standard  Edition,  23,  141-207.  London: 
Hogarth  Press,  1969.  (Origmally  published,  1938.) 

Garraty.  J.  A,  The  interrelations  of  psychology  and  biography.  Psvchological  Bul- 
letin, 1954,37,  569-582. 

Garraty,  J.  A.  The  ticture  of  biography.  New  York:  Vintagc,  1957. 

Gatzke,  IL  W.  Hitler  and  psychohistory.  American  Ilistorical  Review    1973    78 
394-401.  •  .      . 

Gedo,  J.  E.  The  meüiodology  of  psychoixn'dlyxic  hiogidphy.  Journal  of  t he  American 

Psychoanalytic  Association,  1912,20,  638-649. 
Gtürge,   A.   L.   Some   uses  of  dynamic   psychology   in   political  biography:  Gase 
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GtüT^t,  A.  L,  &  George,  J.  L.  Woodrow  Wilson  and  Coloncl  House:  A  personality 

study.  New  York:  Dover,  1964.  (Originally  published,  1956.) 
George,  A.  L.,  &  George,  J.  L.  Woodrow  Wilson  and  Colonel  House:  A  reply  to 
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Gergen,  IC  J.  Social  psychology  as  history.  Journal  of  Personality  and  Social  Psy- 
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GihTiore,  W.  The  methodology  of  psychohistory:  An  annotated  bibliogiaphy.  Vie 

i.ychohistory  Review,  1976,  5,  4-33. 
Gilmore,  W.  Paths  recently  crossed:  Ahernatives  to  psychoanalytic  psychohistory. 

The  Psychohistory  Review,  1979,  7(3),  43-49.  (a) 
Gihnore,  W.  Paths  recently  crossed:  Alternatives  to  psychoanalytic  psvchohistory 

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HI.  New  York:  Scribner's,  1941. 
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Hughes,  H.  S.  History  as  art  and  es  scicnce.  New  York:  Harpcr  &  Row,  \  964. 


'^  r 


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•*V    S 


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251 


Hundert,  E.  J.  Historv',  psycholog\%  and  ihe  study  of  deviant  behavior.  Journal  of 

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Mack,  J.  E.  A  prince  of  our  disorder:  Tne  Ufe  of  T.  E.  Uwrcncc.  Boston:  Little, 

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p"  .■ 


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William  McKinley  Runyan 


253 


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Contemporary  Psychology,  1956./.  ICrS-lC". 


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AnnaO. 

One  Hundred  Years 
of  Psychoanalysis 


Anna  O.— •  Bertha  Pappenheim  was 
treated  by  Joseph  Breuer  from  1880-1882. 
This  is  the  foundation  of  psychoanalysis. 
Now,  one  hundred  years  later  we  shall 
approach  the  case  from  the  development 
of  psychodynamic  theory  and  therapy.  As 
reported,  there  is  controversy  as  to  whether 
she  was  a  hysteric,  borderline  psychotic  or 
a  victim  of  the  cultural  period — or  all  three. 
When  Anna  O. — Bertha  Pappenheim 
recovered  she  moved  from  Vienna  to 
Frankfurt,  Germany.  She  became  interested 
in  the  feminist  movement  in  Germany.  She 
became  angry  at  the  plight  of  young  Jewish 
girls  who  were  being  sold  as  prostitutes  in 
Turkey.  She  rescued  these  girls,  and  set  up 
an  Institution  for  them  and  for  unmarried 
mothers.  She  became  a  pioneer  in  the  fem- 
inist movement  of  Europe.  She  died  in  May 
1936,  after  the  Nazis  had  come  to  power  in 
Germany.  Even  to  the  end,  she  stood  up 
against  the  Nazis.  In  1956,  the  West  German 
government  honored  her  with  a  postage 
stamp  dedicated  to  the  work  she  did. 

How  would  we  treat  Anna  O.  if  she  came  to 
cur  Office  today?  What  have  we  learned? 

Program  will  begin  Saturday 
at9:30A.M. 


Saturday,  November  17, 1979 

9:30  A.M.  to  12  Neon 

Max  Rosenbaum,  Ph.D.,  Chairman  of  Conference 
Clinical  Professor,  Adelphi  University 

A  Reconsideration  of  the  Case  of  Anna  O. 

George  H.  Pollock,  M.D.,  Ph.D. 

Director,  Chicago  Institute  of  Psychoanalysis 
Professor  of  Psychiatry,  Northwestern  University 

AnotherView  -f) 


Walter  Stewart,  M.D.,  New  York  Psychoanalytic  I'rfstj 

Family  Perspective 

Donald  A.  Bloch,  MD. 


Director,  Ackerman  Institute  for  Family  Therapy  ^ 

Cultural  Factors 

John  P.  Spiegel,  M.D.,  Professor,  Brandeis  University  v/^ 

12:30  RM,  to  1:30  RM,  Lunch  Break 
1:30  P.M.  to  5:00  RM. 

Panel  Discussion 

Anna  0.:  The  Cultural  Setting 

Maria  F.  Fleischl,  M.D. 

Director,  Social  Rehabilitation  Clinic, 
Postgraduate  Center  for  Mental  Health 

Elsie  Pappenheim,  M.D. 

Associate  Clinical  Professor,  Psychiatry 
Downstate  Medical  Center,  New  York 

Alexandra  Symonds,  M.D. 

Faculty,  American  Institute  of  Psychoanalysis 
Karen  Horney  Center 

Sarita  Mekler,  Ph.D.,  Professor 

Clinical  Psychology,  National  University  of  Mexico 

Max  Rosenbaum,  Ph.D.,  Clinical  Professor 
Postdoctoral  Program,  Adelphia  University 

Saturday  Night 

7:3g_RIVLl(UaP.M. 

A  movie  made  for  German  TVshowing  Freud's  early  circle 
and  Anna  O.  (Bertha  Pappenheim).  Also  present,  great 
grandnephew,  Wolfgang  Pappenheim,  M.D.,  psychiatrist 
^choanalvst  and  members  of  the  BfeüeffiaTntry. 


,       V....        « 

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...     •'••■•       • 


'^'*f*'ir«^'*''?^?fc'l;7--^- 


VC',"^'' 


V 


\ 


LIFE  HISTORIES 
AND  PSYCHOBIOGRAPHY 

Explorations  in 
Theory  and  Method 


V 


William  McKinley  Riinvan 


rni%crsitv  of  California.  Berkclcv 


New  York     Oxford 
OXFOI^O  l'NIVERSITY  PRESS 

1982 


-"».  •. 
":•* 


Elms 


Book  Review  --  1 


^o[r^^ 


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re^5 


BOOK  REVIEW 


lQt?:9§2§Sti2D  iQ  ii29I§EtiZl  Ill§  ii23?:5B^®£l5  9a®5t  f2E 


S§i^zAwgreness.  Edited  by  Samuel  H.  Baron  and  Carl  Fletsch. 
Hillsdale,  N.J.:  Analytic  Press,  1985,  367  pp.  *    x,  $35.95. 
The  Leaderi  P§ZSb2li4§t2Ei9§i  i§§5Z§-  Edited  by  Charles  B. 

Strozier  and  Daniel  Off er.  New  York:  Plenum  Press,  1985,  324 
pp.   -t-  xvi,  $39.50. 

I^e  Structure  of  Mind  in  Hiator:^!  Eiü®  11§I2E  Ei3y£®§  kU 
Pa^chohiator;^.  By  Philip  Pomper.  New  York:  Columbia 
Univeraity  Preaa,  1985,  192  pp.   *    xvi,  $20.00. 

Political  psychobiography  is  here  to  stay.   As  long  as  past 
presidents  and  other  political  leaders  remain  foci  of  admiration, 
antipathy,  or  aheer  puzzlement  for  acholara  and  ordinary 
Citizens,  someone  will  need  to  bring  psychological  sophistication 
to  bear  on  the  study  of  their  life  hiatoriea.   Aa  long  aa 
candidates  run  on  the  strength  of  their  personal ities  as  much  as 
or  more  than  on  their  platforms,  someone  should  look  closely  at 
their  peraonality  Claims  and  at  the  peraonality-oriented 
counterclaims  of  their  opponents.   As  long  as  the  fate  of  our 
nation  and  our  world  remaina  in  the  hands  of  human 

decision-makers  who  reach  their  conclusions  through  irrational  as 
well  as  rational  processes,  someone  ought  to  make  detailed 
studies,  as  quickly  and  responsibly  as  posaible,  of  potential 


Elms 


Book  Review  --  2 


psychologically-based  flaws  in  those  decisional  processes.   Most 
of  those  "someones,"  it  seems  to  me,  should  be  well-trained 
scholars  of  political  psychology  rather  than  journalists  or 
political  activists.   And  having  accepted  the  assignment  of  being 
those  "someones,"  serious  political  psychobiographers  must  assume 
the  further  Obligation  of  making  their  work  as  good  as  possible. 

Psychobiography  has  been  a  seif -conscious  discipline  front  the 
beginning.   Freud' s  (1910)  book  on  Leonardo  is  filled  with 
cautions  on  how  to  avoid  psychobiographical  errors,  though  Freud 
did  not  always  observe  those  cautions.   Erikson's  Young  Man 
Luther  (1958)  is  an  illustrative  handbook  of  psychobiography, 
rivaled  only  by  his  Gandhils  Truth  (1969).  Though  the  first  major 
political  psychobiography,  George  and  George's  (1964)  Wgodrow 
WiiS2D  äQd  Cglgnel  Hguse,  was  resolutely  narrative  in  form, 
psychobiographical  research  lessons  were  conveyed  in  a  preface,  a 


•• 


Research  Note,"  and  subsequent  papers  by  Alexander  George  (e.g,. 


1971).  Yet  even  in  comparison  with  these  very  seif -conscious 
progenitors,  the  field  of  psychobiography  (and  its  parent 
discipline,  psychohistory)  has  lately  undergone  a  dramatic 
escalation  in  seif -awareness.   From  handbook  chapters  (e.g., 
Croaby  and  Croaby,  1981;  Cooks,  1986)  to  methodological 


mon 


ographs  (e.g,  Runyan,  1984;  Wallace,  1985),  we  are  now  being 


told  a  great  deal  about  how  to  think  about  and  how  to  do 
psychobiography.   For  further  examples  of  this  escalation,  we 
need  look  no  further  than  the  three  books  under  review,  published 
almoat  aimultaneoualy :  one  dealing  primarlly  with  the 


^  « 


Elma 


Book  Review  --  3 


methodology,  one  with  the  theory,  and  one  with  the  metatheory  o£ 
paychobiography  and  paychohiatory . 

Baron  and  Fletsch ^s  IntrogEectign  in  Biggraghx  may  be  most 
immediately  useful  for  tho  working  political  psychologist,   The 
psychobiographer's  personal  blas  toward  the  biographical  subject, 
positive  or  negative,  has  been  recognized  as  a  major  source  o£ 
error  ever  aince  Freud  warned  against  both  idealization  and 
pathography.   The  principal  means  recommended  here  to  deal  with 
such  transference  errors  ia  to  recruit  a  psychiatriat  or  clinical 
psychologist,  who  will  become  the  psychobiographer's  "special 
reader"  at  aome  point  before  a  final  draft  is  produced.   Thia 
"special  reader"  is  expected  to  read  selected  primary  materials 
about  the  psychobiographical  subject,  aa  well  as  early  drafts  of 
the  researcher's  work,  and  then  to  conduct  a  series  of  depth 
interviewe  with  the  psychobiographer  to  make  the  latter's  ongoing 
or  Potential  transference  reactions  toward  the  research  subject 
more  salient.   The  clinician's  role  is  to  be  neither  a  true 
collaborator  (though  the  word  "collaboration"  is  often  used  here) 
nor  a  therapiat  but  a  reaearch  conaultant,  aenaitizing  the 
researcher  to  biographical  blind  spots  that  even  weli-inf ormed 
seif -analysis  might  not  reveal .   This  approach  originated  in  the 
work  of  one  of  the  editors,  Carl  Fletsch,  with  psychoanalyst 
George  Moraitis;  the  latter's  original  paper  describing  the 
consultative  process  is  reprinted  here.   By  the  testimony  of 
Fletsch  and  Moraitis,  the  consultative  process  worked  well,  and 
two  other  biographical  researchers  soon  made  use  of  Moraitis' 


4 


Elina 


Book    Review    --    4 


Services  as  well.   Still  other  researchers  recruited  their  own 
clinicians,  so  that  we  have  here  descriptiona  of  three  extensive 
research  consultations  with  Horaitis  and  three  without.   In  all 
instances,  the  biographers  found  the  consultations  surprisingly 
useful,  though  none  feit  that  the  process  solved  everything  for 
them  or  converted  them  into  thoroughgoing  paychoanalytic 
biographers.   In  one  instance  after  another,  the  researcher 
describes  an  initial  feeling  that  he  did  not  really  need  to  delve 
more  deeply  into  the  paychology  of  his  subject  in  order  to 
understand  the  subject  suff iciently ;  then  a  significant 
re-evaluation  of  the  subject's  life  and  particularly  of  his  own 
relationship  to  the  subject  after  the  clinical  consultation;  and 
a  revelatory  re-reading  of  key  documents  in  the  subject's  life  or 
work.   (Several  female  biographers  were  invited  to  participate  in 
the  Conference  from  which  this  volume  developed,  but  for  reasons 
interestingly  discussed  by  Fletsch  on  pp.   358-359,  the  final 
roater  was  all-male.) 

Though  other  ways  to  deal  with  transference  problems  in 
biography  are  also  discussed  here,  reading  this  book  is  likely  to 
make  the  reader  want  to  try  the  consultative  process  pioneered  by 
Fletsch  and  Moraitis.  Even  if  a  willing  and  capable  psychoanalyst 
or  clinical  paychologiat  ia  unavailable  for  conaultation, 
however,  the  many  detailed  examples  of  biographer  transference 
should  usefully  sensitize  other  biographers  to  issues  they  may 
have  been  ignoring  or  underestimating  in  their  own  work. 


(Several  of  the  biographical  subjects  treated  in  this  volume  were 


Elms 


Book  Review  --  5 


strongly  involved  with  political  issues;  they  include  Henry 
Adams,  Plekhanov,  Stalin,  T.  E.  Lawrence,  and  James  Forrestal.) 

lQ£3E2§E§Sti2D  iQ  ii295:3EliX  does  not  push  any  particular 
Version  of  personality  theory.   Psychodynamic  processes  are 
assumed  to  exist,  but  in  some  papers  they  are  hard  to  detect  even 
in  their  vaguest  form.   Strozier  and  Off er 's  book,  The  Leader, 
has  a  much  more  specific  theoretical  agenda:  to  demonstrate  and 
to  encourage  the  use  of  Heinz  Kohut's  "seif  psychology"  in 
studies  of  political  leaders.   That  is  a  worthy  aim,  since  seif 
psychology  is  one  of  the  most  promising  recent  theoretical 
developments  in  personality  psychology.   (Related  developments, 
including  the  theoretical  approaches  of  Otto  Kernberg  and  the 
British  object-relations  school,  go  almost  unmentioned  in  this 
volume.)   The  Leader  contains  several  valuable  contributions  in 
Support  of  that  aim;  it  disappoints  mainly  in  not  remaining 
consistently  at  the  same  high  level. 

The  book's  centerpieces  are  psychobiographical  studies  of 
Woodrow  Wilson,  Kaiser  Wilhelm  II,  and  Cough  Whitlam.  Joseph 
Bongiorno  manages  the  difficult  feat  of  bringing  new  insights  to 
our  understanding  of  the  already  intensively-studied  Wilson, 
particularly  with  regard  to  the  mutually  rewarding  relationship 
between  Wilson  and  his  father.   Bongiorno  is  occasionally  more 
dogmatic  in  his  speculations  about  Wilson's  inner  life  than  he 
needs  to  be,  but  on  the  whole  he  provides  a  complex  and  subtle 
alternative  to  George  and  George's  influential  analysis. 


Bongiorno  argues  against  the  diagnosis  of  a  narcissistic 


Elma 


Book  Review  --  6 


Personality  diaorder  in  Wilson.  Thomas  Kohut  argues  persuasively 
for  just  such  a  diagnosis  in  the  case  of  Kaiser  Wilhelm  II.  He 
further  argues  that  Wilhelm's  political  failures  and  successes 
derived  from  that  narcissistic  pattern,  in  combination  with  the 
needs  of  the  German  people  for  a  dramatically  symbolic  national 
leader.   Kohut  also  shows  that  Wilhelm 's  contemporaries  were 
often  quite  aware  of  his  narcissism  and  its  central  role  in  his 
leadership  behavior.   Contemporary  perceptions  are  much  less 
uniform  with  regard  to  Australia's  recent  prime  minister.  Cough 
Whitlam.  James  A.  Walter  presents  an  interesting  case  for 
narcissism  in  Whitlam;  he  is  especially  good  on  the  developmental 
role  of  Whitlam's  apparently  bland  but  actually  difficult 
relationships  with  his  parents.   However,  Walterjjf  does  not  make  a 
strong  case  for  narcissism  as  a  necessary  construct  in  explaining 
Whitlam's  political  career,  and  he  does  not  seriously  consider 
alternative  psycho log ical  explanations. 

Ih§  Lfö^der^'s  other  case  studies  are  less  extensive.   Strozier 
provides  a  not  altogether  independent  extract  from  his  excellent 
book  on  Lincoln  (1982),  using  but  never  reaily  clarifying  Heinz 
Kohut 's  concept  of  a  "group  seif."   Muslin  and  Desai  piece 
together  some  interesting  material  on  Gandhi 's  childhood,  but  do 
not  offer  a  major  theoretical  alternative  to  Erikson's  book. 
Zonis  and  Offer  mainly  teil  us  Crealistically )  how  hard  it  would 
be  to  do  a  thorough  seif -psychological  study  of  the  Arab-Israeii 
confiict  and  its  leaders. 


Strozier  and  Offer's  iengthy  introduction  to  The  Leader 


Elma 


Book  Review  --  7 


aketchily  summarizes  the  contributions  of  auch  figures  as  Freud, 
Erikson,  and  Lifton  to  the  psychohistorical  study  of  leadership. 
A  more  penetrating  diacuaaion  of  thoae  three  figurea,  along  with 
Herbert  Marcuse  and  Norman  0.  Brown,  can  be  found  in  Philip 
Pomper '3  The  Structure  gf  Mind  in  HiatorY-  Though  the  title  may 
sound  pompous,  it  has  been  carefully  chosen.   Rather  than  dealing 
with  the  detaila  of  paychological  theoriea  aa  applied  to 
paychohiatory  and  paychobiography.  Pomper  concerna  himself  with 
the  organizing  principlea  or  "architectonica"  uaed  by  theoriata 
in  developing  their  theoriea.   Pomper  identifiea  five  very  broad 
architectonica  (mainly  biological  in  origin) :  genetic, 
epigenetic,  ayatemic,  dialectic,  and  cataatropic.   Freud'a 
orientation  is  primarily  genetic,  Erikson's  epigenetic,  and  the 
other  theoriata'  dialectic.   But  Pomper  demonatratea  how  each 
theorist  actually  combines  several  of  the  five  architectonica  in 
aaaembling  a  theoretical  atructure;  e.g-,  Erikaon'a 
atage-developmental  approach  ia  baaed  on  a  combination  of 
epigenetic,  dialectic,  and  cataatrophic  architectonica,  with  a 
bit  of  ayatemica  thrown  in. 

Pomper  often  haa  a  more  inapired  way  with  worda  than  the 
other  authors  reviewed  here  <e.g.,  "Dispensers  of  group  salvation 
are  saviors  pro  tem,  from  a  psychoanalytic  point  of  view,"  p. 
10) .  Hia  summariea  of  the  key  constructs  in  the  theoriea  he 
reviewa,  and  hia  contraata  of  specific  theoriea,  are 
knowledgeably  and  aympathetically  done.   But  the  major 
contribution  of  hia  book  ia  a  critical  one:  he  convincingly  ahowa 


Elms 


Book  Review  --  8 


how  strongly  ideological  the  best-known  paychohistorical  works 
cire.   Freud,  Erikson,  Harcuse,  Brown,  Lifton  --  each  has  a 
broader  poli-tico-philosophical  agenda  than  any  specific  work 
would  indicatep  and  each  tries  to  argue  that  his  broad  position 
is  validated  by  specific  psychohistorical  and  psychobiographical 
evidence.   Pomper  is  politely  skeptical  as  he  considers  each 
theory^s  ideological  underpinnings  (e.g.,  the  dialectic 
architectonic  "is  the  modern  intelligentsia^s  poetics  of  hope," 
p.   171).  But  the  reader  who  is  engaged  in 

psychobiographical/psychohistorical  research,  or  who  wishes  only 
to  evaluate  the  work  of  others,  should  be  given  pause  by  Pomper ^s 
evidence  of  the  pervasive  politicization  of  personality 
theories.   Pomper  sees  the  theorists  he  has  studied  as  offering 
'"therapeutic  ideologies"  (p.  175),  and  those  are  probably  better 
than  anti-therapeutic  ideologies«   But  not  everyone  would  agree 
that  a  supposedly  scientific  field  should  be  in  the  business  of 
offering  ideologies  of  any  kind  --  or,  at  least,  that  such  an 
enterprise  should  be  its  primary  business. 

Whatever  his  or  her  ultimate  goals,  a  high  level  of 
professional  seif -awareness  is  essential  for  the  political 
psychobiographer .   These  three  books  are  excellent  means  to 
increase  awareness  of  conceptual,  theoretical,  and  methodological 
alternatives  that  may  signif icantly  improve  the  quality  of 


further  work  in  this  field. 


»  # 


Elms 


Book  Review  --  9 


REFERENCES 


Alan  C.  Elms 


Department  of  Psychology 
University  of  California 


Davis,  California  95616 


Cooks,  G.  (1986).  Contributions  of  psychohistory  to  understanding 
politics.   In  Hermann,  M.  G.  (ed.),  Political  Psxchologijj^ 

Q2Dt9!SE2I!9EX  PlI2bl§n5§  5QSl  IS§y§§»  Jossey-Bass,  San  Francisco. 

Crosby,  F.,  and  Crosby,  T.  L.  (1981).  Psychobiography  and 

psychohistory.   In  Long,  S.  (ed.),  Handbogk  of  Political 
Behavior,  Vol.  1,  Plenum,  NewYork. 

Erikson,  E.  H.  (1958).  Young  Man  Luther,  Norton,  New  York. 

Erikson,  E.  H.  (1969).  Gandhi^s  Truth,  Norton,  New  York. 

Freud,  S.  (1910).  Leonardo  da  Vinci  and  a  memory  of  his 

childhood.   In  Strachey,  J.  (ed.),  The  Standard  Edition  of 
the  Complete  PsYchglggical  Works  gf  Sigmund  Freud,  Vol.  11, 
Hogarth  Press,  London  (English  translation,  1957). 

George,  A.  L.,  and  George,  J.  L.  (1964).  Wggdrgw  Wilsgn  gnd 

Q9i9Q§i  H2ä5Sl  A  Personality  Study f  Dover,  New  York. 
George,  A.  L.  (1971).  Some  uses  of  dynamic  psychology  in 

political  biography.   In  Greenstein,  F.  L.,  and  Lerner,  H. 

(eds.),  A  Source  Book  fgr  the  Study  of  Personality  and 

Politics,  Markham,  Chicago. 


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^  IMTRODUCTION 


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tteety-e^^Women's  Biography 


/ 


\: 


INl897,WHILEnLI/,AlJKIMCAÜYSTANTONWASrRUl'AUINCHLR 
incmoirs,  slic  wrotc  Susnu  ü.  Amliony: 

Dcar  Susnn.  I  do  tl.iiik  in  tl.is  c.irlicr  pnrt  of  yoin  lifc  there  shoi.KI  bc' 
Sonic  inysterious  or  undcfincd  rcfcrcnccs  to  son.c  falitt  siiffcriiig  luve 
Mlair  If  your  sistcrs  cm  picnn  any  facts  in  tliat  linc  froin  yoiir  irue 
inwardncss  notl.ing  couUI  l)f  morc  agiccabic  lo  nie  iti.in  to  wcavc  a 
scnnincntnl  cliapicr  cntiilcd.  for  insistcncc  "Hie  Roinancc  of  Sitsni,  D. 
Antl.ony-$  Youiißcr  Ü.iys."  I  low  alt  tl.c  daily  papcrs  would  Jump  nt 
'not ' 

St.iiiton  l.nci  a  rcason  für  wnming  to  crcatc  a  ncw  Image  of  licr 
l'CM  fncnd.  During  tlicir  tinic,  Amliony  and  wonicri  likc  l.cr— woincn 
^v  u»  tcfuscd  to  bc  dcpcndciit  oii  mcii  aiul  wlio  comniittcd  tlicin- 
scivcs  to  tbcir  owii  sex  iliroiigh  tlic  womcirs  rielits  inavcinciit— 
wcrc  portrnycd  by  I  Icnry  jai.ics  in  The  liostonians  as  fanntically 
dnvcn,  iinfulfillcd,  inconiplctc  woiucn.  Trend  offcrcd  ibc  woild  a 
clinical  dinpnosis  to  c.xplain  single  womcn  wIio  livcd  as  Antl.ony 
did;  thcir  cl.oicc  was  labdcd  scxiu.l  rcprcssiou  or  sublimalioii  of 
sex  into  work.  And  by  tlic  turn  of  ilic  ccntiirv,  tbc  vvoinan  wlio 
refused  to  bc  dominatcd  was  sccn  by  scxologists  as  cold  and  jiard. 
In  Antbony's  casc,  her  passionatc  cliarisnia  was  rcduccd  to  cvidciicc 
Ol  rigid  autlioritarianisni. 

Ulis  Icttcr,  »ypical  of  Stanton's  bmnor,  also  rcfltctcd  bcr  sub- 
missmn  to  romantic  csscniialisin.  Sl>c  kncw  that  an  account  of  her 
best  fricnd's  lovc  lifc  woiild  liavc  justificd  Anthony's  work  and  her 


*    k  • 


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I 
« 


«M^ 


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•  • 


L«i^ 


Ihcory  of  Wontcn^s  Uio^rajjhy 


politicnl  lifc.  Lntc  in  her  own  lifc,  cvcii  Atitlioiiy  hcrsclf  succuinbcJ 
tu  prcscnting  to  tlic  public  nn  iJcntity  which  was  not  actually  her 
own.  ScvcrnI  timcs  wl^n  qiKstioncd  by  reporicrs  on  thc  subjcct  of 
her  lüvc  hfc,  shc  said  iliat  shc  hnd  becn  in  lovc  niany  timcs,  and 
then  quickly  rcstorcd  her  storv  to  her  own  rcnhty  by  turning  it  into 
3  pohticnl  Statement,  snying  i  ,.u  marriagc  without  cquahty  was  in- 
conceivable  to  her,  and  iliat  shc  had  ncvcr  met  an  eqiial  to  marry. 
But  in  tlic  process  to  prove  tlint  slic  was  normal  and  not  sick  or 
aberrant,  shc  would  ovcrstate  thc  being-in-lovc-scvcral-timcs  story 
(which  was  actually  a  relativcly  insignificanr  rcality  in  her  life). 
Wheiher  or  not  this  gave  hei  cgo  saiisfaction,  it  was  somcthing  shc 
cvcntually  understood  as  necessary  to  get  peoplc  to  listen  to  and 
lake  seriously  her  political  dcmands. 

Patriarchal  Society  will  not  acccpt  any  wonian  who  refuses  to  bc 
dominatcd.  If  shc  persis^  thus^it  rewrites  her  history  and  rcshapes 
her  character,  punitively  twisting  her  will,  bending  her  Image,  and 

distoriing  her  identiiy  uniil  her  dcfiancc  appears  as  a  deformity 

an  abcrration  of  nnture.  But  over  timc  it  has  proven  impossiblc  to 
completely  suppress  ihc  rcality  of  thc  livcs  of  indcpendent,  sclf-dc- 
fincd  women  such  as  Susan  U.  Anthony.  'I  hey  periodically  re-emcrgc 
from  behind  thc  historical  dcformaiion  of  thcir  livcs  to  dcfy  patrinr- 
chy  once  again.  In  tradiiional  history,  a  lifc  likc  Anlhony's  secms 
to  be  an  anomaly;  but  to  fcminists,  thc  anomaly  suggcsts  that  this 
kind  of  life  story  has  morc  to  say  about  all  womcn.  \\\  fcminist  rc- 
search,  thc  anomaly— thc  "ru;-urc  of  history"— is  oftcn  thc  point 
where  we  begin  to  look  für  wo*  icn's  rcality.  It  is  therc  that  wc  com- 
prehend  the  fuller  cxtent  of  'lat  patriarchy  has  distorted  or  ex- 
cludcd  in  its  dominaiion  of  w   inen.^ 

Likc  nny  other  oppresscd  gunip,  women  live  in  the  contradiction 
of  actively  and  creativcly  coi'  ucting  thcir  own  idcntity  whilc  thc 
niale-dominatcd  socicty  imposcs  a  rcductivc,  biologized  idcntity  upon 
them  thus  making  ihem  mercly  producls  of  drives  and  instincts.  To 
thc  extcnt  ihat  women's  livcs  do  nut  fit  thc  tradiiional  femalc  dcf- 
initions,  all  women  arc  misfits. 

For  thc  past  t\vo  decadcs  thc  study  of  women's  history  nnd  fem-  • 
inist  theory  has/^'nerated  neu  rescarch  and  insichts  that  havc  bc- 
gun  10  correct  illasculinizcd  history.  Wc  havc  pg^rcachcd  a  critical  . 
juncturc  where  history  and  theory  requirc  grounding  in  womcn's  • 
realiiies.  Women's  biography  is  emcrging  as  a  new  genre,  which  wtlJ>. 
challcngc  thc  very  siruclurc  andi:ategories  of  ihc  history  men  (lavc 
jcalously  guardcd  as  thcir  own. 

Historical  sociologists  arc  bfeg  force4.to  un-think  thc  dualisms 


<- 


V 


t 


IWC/ 


I 

I 


; 


in  wliich  mncro  hns  bccn  disconncclcd  froin  thc  micro  niul  tlic  in- 
diviclual  lus  bccn  dissocintcü  froni  ihcorics  of  socicty.  An^'  Frcncli 
philüsophcr  Tniil  Ricocur  Ims  criticizcd  top-düwn  history  for  rc- 
nlncing  ''il^c  subjccts  of  actiuii  wiih  ciuitics  that  arc  anonymous" 
and  for  niaking  history  a  scicncc  lliat  studics  nations,  sociciics,  so- 
cial classcs,  or  nicntalitics.^  l'cininist  Iiistorians  havc  brokcn  ground 
by  dcnionsirating  ihc  disconlinuily  bctwccn  wonicn's  history  and 
tradiiional  historical  pcriodizaiion/  By  unpcopling  history  and  so- 
ciülogy,  and  disconnccting  daily  hfc  and  subjcctivc  rcahty  from  thc 
cpochs.'pcriods,  and  major  social  caicgorics,  grand  history  and  nia- 
cro-sociology  havc  rcniaincd  thc  strongholds  of  patriarchal  ihought. 
These  disciplincs  arc  conccrncd  with  ihe  history  of  thc  grcat  wars, 
thc  grand  philosophical  tradiiions,  thc  storics  of  grcat  nicn,  and  thc 
origins  of  thcorics.  hi  rcaction  to  male  control  of  history  womcn 
havc  rccapturcd  a  history  of  womcn— a  ncw  social  history  '•froin 
thc  hottom  up."  But  thc  social  history  of  womcn  has  not  yct  scri- 
ously  impingcd  on  or  forccd  a  rcformulation  of  pcriodization  and 
grniid  polilical  and  economic  thcorics. 

Thc  iiivv  iiitcr'T^t-in  vs'mHen'j  biub'>U'l0'  ^'"'  ^^^  LAplaiiKd  in  [Mrt 

l^>^4^^MH^biography  rcqiiircs  thnt  wc  bc  truc  to  our  subjcct, 

thnt  WC  not  only  rc-crcnic  thc  phcnomcnology  of  daily  lifc  to  un- 

cüvcr  thc  subjcctivity  of  ihc  seif  but  that  wc  locatc  our  subjcct  in 

her  own  historicr.l  context  and  that  reqiiircs  repcriodization.  Thus 

biography  can  rendcr  thc  constructcd  divisions  that  separate  social 

history  from  grand  history,  divorcc  ihcory  from  rcality,  niacro  from 

]  niicro,  into  falsc  categorizations.  ^^  ,Jc^    <>\tyl^  t 

^oqt  Ihc  theory  of  women's  biography  l^w^dcvclope^m-wmH»« 

^rj-  SM^iv-BT^\t7tiTOTT7VlTftr5mr^moves  in  a  progression  Irojn  tb^hc- 


<s 


VK 


*^ 


IS 


nomcnolügv  of  daily  lifc  to  thc  structurc  of  histor>;JH7i  _ 
nicant  to  forcc  thc  anoinalics  and  thc  distortions  and  cclipscs  of 
masculiniz.cd  history  into  a  ncw  clarit^{;^-i4^<^4^€ffl4HHHg  pouu  of  M 
iS^^^r^xw.  WliLU  vvomciro  rubjcctivffy-rWd  ^^^^ 

raphT^TFrprescalu!^         futidamcntal  diallcngcjo^TtT^ 
iial  constructionüTm^rir^-^vM^la^^  by  patriarchy. 

I  But,  most  iniportantIj^%s4^cTT--^^  according  to 

•thc  niatcriAL^nrditions  of  womcn's  livcs,  wc  cnablc  t 
v4&^wAV-4^mo^t  for  our  &t»<^H^tK. 


\^. 


lic 


OS 


V 


^fl 


0  0 

llislory  is  kcy  to  thc  structuring  of  human  subjcctivity  as  it  offers 
a  past  from  which  wc  can  locatc  oursclvcs  in  timc,  culturc,  and 


rf-^- 


J^^Ö 


^eMUftlm^Whcn  womcn  aic  dcfincd  in  terms  of  csscntialist  roles 
that  arc  drawn  from  inslinctual  or  biological  mandatcs,  thcy  arc 
confincd  to  a  personal  past  and  knowii  only  through  private  cxis- 
tcncc. 

I  am  posing  a  vcry  cicar  Opposition  bctwccn  imposed  csscntiahst 
dcterminism  that  dcfines  thc  female  and  thc  nctivc  social  construc- 
tion  of  hersclf  in  the  world.  I  am  intentionnlly  situating  thcsc  as 
polar  oppositcs  to  crcaie  ideal  typcs  that  crystallize  thc  füllest  rcality 
of  cach  cnd  of  thc  spectrum  of  identiiy,  rcnlizing  that  all  that  is 
bctwccn  them  is  niorc  complicatcd  and  confuscd  than  thc  opposi- 
tions  thcmselvcs  rcprcscnt. 


Discovcring  the  Aciing  Subjcct 


\     - 


,   rcmii.ists  nrc  loukin^  nt  history  witl.  a  ncw  eye— tlic  eye  of  womaii 

/from  I.cr  own  historicnl  protip— ihc  collcctivc  bnsc  of  nclworks  Iroiu 

which  womcn  comc  to  be  kiiowii  as  actiiig  subjccts  of  history.  by 

lüstory  wc  mcan  subjcctivc  history.  Our  doctucnts  arc  womcn  s 

livcs:  thcir  letters,  diarics,  testimony,  expcricnces.  and  nucractions. 


•  . 


•^^ 


fr. 


JLL 


JL^ 


m     »»-■ 


cc)ii5ciousnc5S  uf  tlicir  conditjons  nf  .r,..m»o^,„,    ,„ 

Subjcctivc  lustory  bceins  witl.  tl,c  lifc  story.  This  is  whnt  Ricocur 
rcfcrs  tu  as  a  return  to  tl.c  n.u.ativc.  Hc  nrgu„  tl,at  -Mstory  can 
not  .   .       scvcr  cvcry^nncctio.i  with  narrntivc  witlioiu  losinc  jt, 
ns.oncal  chnrnctcr  "rhlosvcvcr.  thc  nnrmtivc  or  lifc  l,is,ory  m,  " 

of  an  nuI.vKlt.al  s  l.fc.  Ihnt  is  uhcrc  I  bcgnn  wi.l,  Susan  ü.  AntI  o- 
ny  5  l.fc.  l-bcsn»-Uy-^UUHt  nll  nf  l.or  .lin».^,.^.e.5.,HHMctJt 
and  cvcn  n,any  of  tl,c  books  in  l.cr  pcrsonnl  library,  whicl,  is  now 
m  l.c  Library  of  ( cgrcss    I  fullowccl  her  tl.rough  exciting  cvcnts 
and,  l.kew.sc,  hvcd  tl.rongh  thc  .nundn.,e  day-to-day  routinc    tlic 
rcpctn.vcncss  tbat  was  rcficctcd  in  niany  letters  and  diaries.  Then 
as  I  read  tbc  staten.ents  fron,  tbc  wo.nnn's  rights  n.ovcinct,  tbcir 
cun  cre.Kc  calls  and  docun.cnts,  articics  froin  newspapcrs  tbat  cov- 
crcd  tbc.r  actions  and  Antbony's  appcarancc  in  onc  city  aftcr  an- 
othcr.  shc  becanic  nmrc  prcscnt  l«  ,uc,  dcspitc  r':c  ccniury  differcncc 
.M  our  l.ves.  1  read  her  fayoritc  novcis,  thc  o(,cs  n.ost  populär  with 
wo,„cn  ü   her  day,  cspeanily  novclists  and  pocis  I.kc  Charlotte  Bronte 
a..dl.hzabeth  Barrett  Browni.,R.  |  fi„nliy  perceived  fron,  her  readi.,« 
of  thcsc  novcis  what  n,spircd  her  a.,d  what  in  thcn  reficctcd  her 
ow„  l.fc  to  her    lins  b.oi.ght  her  cven  closer  to  n,e.  Then  I  visiicd 
ihc  v.liages  and  c.t.cs  where  shc  livcd,  spending  afternoons  Walking 
down  couniry  roads  and  i.„o  cily  hackyards  t«  scc  what  shc  saw 
And  wh.lc  1  was  wr.ting  about  her  political  work  and  sometin.cs 
hnd.np  her  too  d.stant  fron,  n,e.  I  cven  stood  up,  sct  up  son,cthi.,R 
I.kc  a  lectun,  on  n,y  work  table,  and  read  son.c  of  her  speechcs 
.-.lüud.  „  .f  thcy  were  bcing  prcsci.ted  lo  audiences.  1  finally  got  a 
fcci  for  her   a  scnsc  of  who  shc  was  t!,at  wcnt  far  bcyond  a  studied 
anaiys.s  of  !,er  l.fc.  Ih.s  was  a  differe.u  way  of  knowing  that  niadc 
her  vcry  prcscnt  to  inc. 

But  to  this  point  of  thc  rescarch,  biographical  study  is  only  dc- 
scr.pt.vc  and  ,s  not  yet  connected  to  human  subjcctivity-that  is. 
thc  seif,  thc  hfc  forcc.  Thc  rescarch  has  es.ablishcd  thc  historical 
contcxt  fron,  which  biography  grows  fron,  iiarrativc  into  intcrprc- 
tat.on.  A.,.hony  vvould  havc  ren,aincd  a  distant  objcct.  a  n,odcl  with 
whom  I  idct.hcd  but  did  „Ol  know,  nntil  I  wci,t  onc  stcp  furthcr 
nnd  bcgan  to  Interpret  thc  facls  of  her  lifc  by  dcriving  ,hc  actuai 
mcan.ng  shc  attributed  to  thosc  facts.  Thc  rescarch  into  her  papcrs 

Wid  dücuinents  allowcd  mc  to  rcconstruct  thc  ohjcctivc  conditions 
of  situntions  in  Amliony's  iife.  l-ro,n  ihcm  I  was  ablc  to  intcrprct 
t!)C  nicanings  t!,at  shc  attributed  t<;  '  er  interactions  both  with  her- 
$elf  and  with  oihers.  

VChcn  WC  engagc  in  this  kind  of  intcrpretation  with  our  subjcct 
whcn  wr.ting  a  biography,  wc  ncccssarily  inicract  with  that  indi- 
v.dual.  Wc  bcgii,  to  k.,ow  nur  subjcct  thc  ■  ay  wc  know  others  in 
our  hves.  Fron,  that  kind  of  knowing,  we  hopc  to  bc  ablc  to  ap- 
proximaic  how  our  subjcct  knew  herseif  and  others  in  her  lifc.  As 
Anthony  inlerpretcd  the  words  and  gcstures  of  thosc  in  her  lifc,  I 
füund  that  the  inore  fuily  I  approximated  her  nicaning  in  intcr- 
prcting  her  words  and  actions,  thc  inorc  fuIly  shc  bccainc  a  subjcct 
to  n,c  becausc  I  was  involved  with  her.  As  I  bcgnn  to  undcrstand 
Aiithony's  intcractions  with  oihcrs,  such  as  her  fa.nily,  her  friends, 
and  her  foes  and  colleagucs,  I  can,c  lo  know  her  in  a  way  that  ac- 
tually  dcvelopcd  into  a  relationship  with  her  ovcr  tiinc.  Shc  was  no 
longcr  the  ob|cct  of  iny  itKi^y^^Ufjhc^hccJmc  a  subjcct  to  n,c.  HcrC 


® 


0(^0^-0  ^k^—    ^ 


ita^J-  . 


A 


iccts  to  revcal  tl.c  ,nutcrns  of  soci.l  kknvi„r  bccnnsc  ly  o,    bc 
.ntcrprctccl  ns  rcprcsc.u.uivc.  It  is  cl.f,crcnt  wi.I,  biog     ,  ,  "Äs 
progrcssccl  ...  .,.y  .„volvc...c.,t  with  A,uhü..y,  I  bcgn.,  to  fi  ul  nuscl 
nlinost  n..to.„nncalI>-  prcJ.cti..R  her  response  or  1,'r  cours    o  '  'et , 
...  pnrt.cular  s.tunt.c.s;  f,o.„  tl.c  i.,füri,Kuio„  i.,  I,cr  letters  or  otl.e 
tlocm.cts   sl.e  wuuki  verify  ,„y  i,.tcrprctntiu...  Tl.is  is  what  soci- 
olog.sts  cnll  snt...aliü..  wl.c.  stuclying  collcctive  lifc  historics-  it  is 
Ihnt  po.i.t  wli.ch  CMC  rtMcbcs  wbc.  a  ccrtni.i  prcclieiaüility  iiucr- 
vciics  niid  is  verificJ. 


-    5^<J~ 


üy  tli.s  tm.e   tl,c  rchnicslup  with  thc  subjcct  l,as  pnsscd  bcyond 
tl.c  bas.c  Icvcl  of  ...tcpretatio,,  jost  dcscribetl.   h.slcncl,  as  wc  clo 
w.th  ciüsc    ..cnds,  we  nssui.ic  a  subjcctivc  cc,„„cetio..  cvcii  bcfore 
systc.nt.cally  .„tcrprcti.ig  an  actiun  or  tryi.ig  to  fi.id  tbc  .uea„i„K 
of  a  pi.rasc.  Rcgard.i.g  oi.r  friciids  we  ca..  bc  proii.ptcd  to  sav   "I 
know  she  vvm.ld  .,ot  .\o  tbaf  «r  "That  is..'t  likc  l.er"  or  "Shc-s  just 
l.kc  .hat.     Wc  prcsu.,.e  .o.i,ctl.i.,g  bccai.sc  ot.r  i.itcractions  bavc 
tnkc..  US  ...  clüscr    i.,to  a  dccpcr  level  of  k.,o-.vi„g.  ,|,nt  of  subiect 
to  sub)ect-..,tcrsubicctiviiy.  A.,d  tbis  is  bow  I  ca.„c  to  k.iow  Susa., 
Ü.  A..tbo.,y.  At  r.rst  tbcrc  was  a.i  i„itiai  attracti«,.  a.ul  an  i.ucrest 
m  gctt.ng  to  k.,ow  her  bclter.  It  was  .,ot  a.i  i.istant  k..üwIedBc  or 
i.k.ng  but  O..C  tbat  dcvclopcd  over  ti.nc  a..d  crcatcd  closcncss    For 
.n  .nvolv.ng  ourscivcs  i..  wo.nc.i-s  livcs  a.,d  touchi.ig  tbcir  subicc- 
t.v.ty,  WC  bcg.n  to  k.,ow  what  will  ri.ig  truc  for  thc....  Tbis  gave  n.e 

n  truly  ob,cc.ivc  a.,d  dialectical  poi„t  of  rcfcrccc  lo  tballcge  tbc 
traditional  h.stoncnl  .ntcrp.ctaiio.i  of  Antbo.iy's  lifc 
I  s......„nri7.cd  this  dy.ian.ic  of  si.bjcciivc  i.,teractio.*,  in  a  ,986  pa- 

pcr  I  de bvcrcd  ...  Paris.  "Wc  arc  co.Kcrned  herc  will,  ,he  subjcctiv- 
uy  of  sc  f  as  thc  seif  co.,.cs  to  bc  know.,  to  itself  tbrough  i.,tcraetion 
«.th  otbcrs  and  w.ih  o.icsclf  wbere  tl.c  i.,tcraetion  i.,volves  i.Ucr- 
prct.ng  and  .nternali7.i.,g  tbc  .nca.,i„p  of  thc  o.hcr  who  thc.  does 
not  rcia...  an  ob,cct  bnt  beco.ncs  a  subject  to  ihc  seif,  a  subjcct  as 
tbc  sub,cct.v.ty  ...  thc  ...teraction  c.ergcs  a.id  is  i.,.cr..ali«d  by  tbc 
othcr.  Ih.s  .s  .,0t  only  tbc  basis  for  i.,terprcti..g  biography,  b»t  it 
forn.s  .bc  eorc  of  social  life.  it  ereates  tbc  eo...Tectio..s  a..;o..g  i„- 
d.v.dnnls  tbe  .„ca.is  by  wb.cb  wc  are  located  i..  tl.c  social  world. 
0..e  s  snbjcct.v.ty,  howevcr,  ca.,  ..ever  bc  fully  or  co...pletely  con,- 
prchcded  or  ...terprctcd  by  thc  otl.er;  „or  sbo..Id  wc  wa.,t  to  for 
K  .s  ...  thc  f..ll..css  of  ...y  ow.,  subjcetivity  tbat  I  a...  thc  '...e'  wbo 

li.Kling  a.jd  rcvcaling  a  wo..,.i.,*s  subjcetivity  sbould  ..ot  bc  co.,- 
uscd  w.ib  ,de..t.fyi.,g  witi,  her.  Ma..y  biograpl.e.s  toJny  talk  about 
l.c.r  .dent.f.cnt.o..  w.th  il.eir  s..bject  to  tbc  extet  tbat  it  is  son.c- 
t.n.cs  assu...ed  that  to  writc  a  biography  is  to  writc  o..c's  own  bi- 
ography. I  d.sagrcc.  It  is  truc  that  wo..,e.,  likc  Susan  B.  A.,tl,o.,y 
n.Hl  Kh7.abetl.  Cady  Sta.,to.,  re.uai.,  i..,porta.,t  ...odels  for  won.cn 
of  tüday.  Many  won.c,  bavc  idctified  with  tbcn,,  likc.cd  our  struggic 
to  thc.rs.  a.,d  bavc  taken  couragc  fioin  tbcir  spiriied  livcs.  lU.t  tbc 
b.ograpbcr  ...ust  takc  a  further  step  to  iranscc.d  pcrso.,al  idcntifi- 
cat.on  w.tb  bcr  subject.  As  thc  biograpber  of  Susa..  ü.  Anthony,  if 


^ttSUxf^<^ 'Ij) 


C{^\^<^^  0 


< 


^ 


l^i4<iuH/;^vith  her,  fiiKting  iiiy  lifc  In  Iicr  bJogrnphy,  I  would  liavc 
falsciy  cqiinicJ  us.  Uhimntcly,  iclciuificntion  is  not  an  cquatioii  nt 
all  but  a  kiiid  of  Iicroinc  worsliip;  it  is  ;in  objcciification  of  tlic  otlicr— 
a  rcfusal  of  sul))cctivity.  -Ton  pftui  bn^mH^^^-^-HHj^ostrrlTrmT^rtvry 
xauhetr-^iibictfi^r-nVDnicirfcnuvv  iliis  rmlytuu  tr^ü4fern-ri)eff><u>f--> 

di^tej^liisicnJ  of  itlcniification,  I  cainc  to  slinrc  a  dialcctical  rcla- 
tionsliip  with  Aiitlioiiy  lli.nt  coniiiuiaüy  rcvcalcd  morc  to  nie  nbout 
how  she  kncw  hcrsclf  anj  fruni  hcrsclf  hovv  slic  knew  and  intcractcd 
with  others.  Surprisingly,  I  camc  to  know  morc  of  niysclf  thrmigli 


interaction  witi)  Iicr. 


^ 


UJ^ 


Ui^x^^r.^ 


(LcNol-^-^^^t' 


/ 


-H-^^ 


5  <^^-'ß-iA<-^  '-^ 


yvu.-(rv-^ 


.-' 


1 

« 

4 


Probnhly  thc  niost  iniportant  inipact  of  csscntiahst  dctcrminisni 
in  thc  (dc)f(;rmntiün  of  human  subjcclivity  is  in  how  it  shapcs  tcm- 
porality.  lo  dcfine  womcn  by  ihcir  scxiiahty  and  rcproductivity  is 
to  rcniüvc  ihcm  from  thc  progrcssion  of  hisiory.  In  contrast  to  thc 
hislorical  undcrstanding  womcn  as  acting  subjccts  of  luslory,  duough 
csscntinlism  vN^onicn  arc  imivcrsahz.cd  by  sexual  rclations  and/or 
mollicrhood.  '  .    #.  .  , 


#Xr* 


»  s 


tS 


Without  a  concrcic  h^cation  in  history,  tlicrc  is  no  social  cohcsion 
^bind  woman  to  woman  [■f^^gMiinlu.niinnlr^  womcn  socially  at- 
omizcd.  W^)man  H^alonc  wiih  her  luisband,  lovcr,  or  famiiy  »h 
Ü*;»Pisülaic^her  Irom  thc  social  reahiics  that  would  bond  her  with  '' 
her  sex.  Esscntialism  as  sucli  consiitutcs  an  cffort  to  annihilate 
wonicn's  ^ubjcctivity.  it  is  n  lic  about  onc's  seif.  It  is  a  lie  nbout 
wonicn,  becausc  it  rcsts  on  tlic  assumption  that  onc's  seif  is  unrc- 
''^!!^^'  \V.^^'^^^  similar  scivcs.  To  not  bc  phlc  to  idcntify  onescif  with 
a  ''wc"  is  to  not  lake  onc's  proup  or  onc5;clf  as  subjccts  of  hisiory. 

Ry-ee4vuagtT-tne!v4>on4-MHW4--G<*9i^ 


(f/i^icJ^-JL^ 


1 


»     ••  • 


-/Susan 


Y 


.  cf(  tK>gi^p>fiy-^f;Siisan  B.  Antlionv^Htrp^^biogrnpIiy  is  tlic  story^^of  a 

^     Single  wüinnn  who  constructcd  her  lifc  couisc  by  surpnssing  thc  iin- 

posilions  of  biologlcnl  tlctcrnn'nisnis  on  Iicr  icJcntiiy,  whilc  thc  social 

rcjcction  slic  cxpcricnccd  für  nonidcntity  with  woninn's  rolc  rc- 

vcnlcd  thc  rcgulaiory  forcc  it  Iicld  ovcr  vvonicn  as  n  clnss.> 

A^  ''  uns  Single  nnd  tlicrcforc  nblc  to  siistnin  an  inibrokcn  identity  wiih 
her  sex  her  bioprnphy  reveals  tl;rt  whcn  woinan  is  married  and 

:  lliercforc  not  able  to  bc  a  wonian  unto  herscif  slic  is  isolatcd  froni 

other  women  and  nuist  construct  her  priniary  identity  throngh  her 

^  juisband  and  her  fntnily.  Mnrriagc  and  any  forni  of  relationship  which 

eniiscs  wonien  to  shift  thcir  identity  honi  thenisclves  separates  wonicn 

fruin  each  other  denies  thcni  their  identity  wiili  thcir  own  sex 

thcir  class  of  wonicn  — and  thcrcforc  dcnics  thcin  a  truc  •'wc/'  For 
Anthony,  being  single  — ihat  is,  a  wonian  unto  herscif— no  longcr 
mcnnt  being  alone  and  scparntc.  I  ler  lifc  story  revcals  that  for  her 
bcing  Single  mcnnt  affirniing  her  identity  as  a  wonmn  witii  womcii. 
In  other  words,  siic  did  not  havc  to  bcconie  unsingic.  Shc  did  not 
hnve  to  changc  her  nnnic,  her  legal  Status,  or  shift  her  needs  and 
identity  froin  herscif  and  her  woinan's  wor Id  to  a  niatc,  as  did  her 
nmrried  sisters.  For  Susan  B.  Anthony,  being  single  ineant  thm-ehe   S^ 


\  • 


^ 


ih- 


I 

X 


s 

\ 
I 

1 


1 


identified  with  a  woman's  "wc."  Beeause  shc  was  not  innrricTslic 
was  ablc  to  live  in,  with,  and  through  her  own  proup — wonicn. 
'Ulis  unbroken  identity  cvcntually  led  her  to  thc  ccnter  of  thc  wom- 
cn's  niovcnient,  where  her  |')olitical  identificntion  with  her  own  group 
was  built  not  only  in  reaction  to  being  opprcssed  but  also  froni  thc 
independencc  of  wonicn  coniing  together  out  of  thcir  own  strcngth. 
In  this  way,  wonicn  transcend  thc  alicnation  of  thc  seif,  which  bc- 
conics  locked  into  csseniinlist  nieanings,  by  activcly  pursuing  thcir 
own  livcs  in  a  social  conlext  that  docs  not  prohibit  group  identi- 
ficntion. 1  he  social  construction  of  seif  that  rcfuscs.  to  bc  detcr- 
mincd  by  natural,  ineviiable  roles  provides  thc  bcginning  point  for 
cxploring  who  wonicn  arc  as  a  class,  and  tlint  will  ultiniatcly  dircct 

US  to  locatc  wonien  in  a  valid  historicalcontcxt.   

Not  being  particularly  inicrcstcd  in  inarriagc  and  ultiniatcly  rc-  ^ 
fusif^g  thc  rolc  of  thc  old  niaitl,  Anthony  faccd  thc  world  wiih  few   \ 
nioJcIs  before  her.  At  that  inonicnt  shc  began  to  niakc  choiccs.  Even    ' 
though  shc  was  not  sure  what  shc  would  do  or  where  it  would  takc 
her,  shc  discovercd  a  ncw  scnsc  of  tlic  futuic  that  opcned  up  bcforc 
her.  Her  sccniingly  ordinary  choiccs,  such  as  dcciding  to  spend  niurc 

linie  working  for  tenipernnce  rcforni  than  in  her  gardtn  which  shc 
loved,  were  rclentlessly  nioving  her  into  directions  wonicn  had  not 
takcn  bcforc. 

Unniarkcd  by  cereniony,  gifis,  and  congratulations,  thc  choiec  to 
bc  Single  is  usually  found  in  sniall  acis,  sccniingly  insignificant  dc- 
cisions  that  niovc  onc  in  ininiediatcly  inipcrceptiblc  ways  away  froin 
marringe  —  sonietinics  cven  bcforc  onc  has  rcjectcd  inarriagc  per  sc. 
It  niny  not  bc  so  niuch  a  reaction  against  niarriagc  niorc  than  it  is 
a  disintcrest  in  this  social  institution.  Bcing  single  involves  no  dra- 
niatic  breaks,  no  severing  or  disruption  of  onc*$  identity. 

Making  choiccs  iiioved  Susan  out  of  her  cousin's  fainily.  It  brokc 
her  away  froni  wonien's  private  spherc.  But  whcn  I  followcd  her 
froni  thc  private  spherc  to  thc  public  wdi  Id,  it  hecanic  apparrni  lh;U 
nicicly  having  an  in^^lcpcndcm  will  and  inconic  was  not  enougli  to 
preparc  her  for  thc  world  outsidc  of  thc  honie  and  teaching. 

Truc  wonianhood — with  its  personal,  nioralistic  piciy — was  scen 
as  not  only  appropriate  [or  womcn*s  nioralityj^utjfor  Lcailux:  cliib 


drcii  (wliicli  IS  why  tcncliing  was  so  conipntiblc  with  Nvoincn's  pri- 
vate sphcrc).  WomcK  liad  iiucrnnli/xd  tlic  l'uritai,  morality  tl.nt  causcü 
thcm  tu  uiulcrstaml  tlic  cliaractcr  of  morality  as  indiviüiial  seif 
scarchmg,  significd  by  thc  traiisgrcssiu.i  of  GoJ's  will,  rcctificd  by 
a  personal  picty  tliat  Icd  to  riglticousncss  ovcr  private  bcliaviors 
Würncii  monitorcd  tiicnisclvcs,  cach  oti.cr,  aiul  thcir  childrcii.  'ftr 

'^d  »vei  vvuiiiLii  u.i!,  Lumplctc  Llchul  uuiiict» 


Confincd  to  O^individiial  Icvcl,  tliis  moralistic  picty  bccamc  for 
inaiiy  wonicn  a  way  of  not  kiiowiDg  tlic  world  outsidc  tlic  family— 
thcir  private  spliere.  When  Antliony  bcgan  her  political  work._sl 

o,xporioiico>j^  a  diffcreiit  liistorical  cuiitexLm  v.lii>.li  jIhi 

Mcr  inoralitTj^Iiiftcd  wliilc  licr  iiioral  pcrccpts  did  not. 


V 


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IWW 


~* — — . • „ .. ..,  I  

Ulis  changc  from  liomc  to  Society,  froiii  privnic  inornlistic  picty 
to  public,  groiip-oriciucd  inorni  nnalysis  of  issiics  in  ctliicnl  terms 
fit  für  public  discoursc  wns  not  only  n  pcrsonni  sliift  for  Siisnn  B. 
Anthony.  Her  intlividual  expcricncc  at  this  tinic  wns  niirrorcd  by 
thc  womcn's  niovcinent  in  gcnernl.  I  agrec  vvitli  tlic  fcminist  liis- 
lorians  wlio  credit  t!»c  woinen  wlio  partici|>;Ued  in  tcnipcrnncc  rc- 
form  work  in  tlic  iS^os  witli  tlic  renl  bcginnings  of  thc  ninctccntli- 
ccntury  Anicricnn  womnn's  rights  movement.  But  furtlicr  distinc- 
tions  must  bc  made  bctween  tlic  two  moments  of  womcirs  protcst. 
llic  first  phasc  nssocinled  with  cnriy  Icmpernncc  work  was  prc- 
conscious  fenn'nism.  Teinpernnce  reform  focuscd  on  individuals  and 
on  persona!  Solutions  to  private  behavior  tluu  would  remain  pri- 
vate. 1  hc  rcformcrs  thought  neithcr  of  chnnging  society  nor  of  ana- 
lyzing  die  probicm  bcyond  its  individual  manifcstations.  Tlieir  np- 
proacli  was:  If  liquor  makes  men  drunk  and  drunk  men  arc  abusivc 
then  takc  ihe  liquor  away  from  ihcm.  Womcn  could  spcak  in  public 
but  from  a  personal  morality  nicant  only  for  the  private  splicre.  In 
many  ways,  this  assurcd  thcir  opponents  that  their  threats  wcre  ul- 
timately  harmicss.  Willi  the  Declaration  of  Scntimcnts,  writtcn  by 
Elir.abeih  Cady  Stanion  and  adopted  at  the  1848  Scneca  Falls  Con- 
vention, that  privaiized  morality  was  transformed  into  political  is- 
sues  that  confronted  the  civil  and  legal  structures  that  supported 
patriarchal  dominaiion  of  women. 

f+rt:  personal  Iransformation  of  morality  involves  resiructuring 
womenTsubjcctivity.  In  1852,  as  President  of  Anlhony's  newiy  fornicd 
Woman's  State  Tcmperance  Society,  Stanton  declarcd:  *'Let  no 
woman  remain  in  the  rclation  of  wife  with  a  confirmed  drunkard. 
Let  no  drunkard  be  thc  faiher  of  her  children.  .  ,  .  Lct  iis  pctition 
our  State  government  so  to  modify  thc  laws  affecting  marriagc  and 
thc  custody  of  children,  that  thc  drunkard  shall  have  no  claims  on 
wife  of  child."  Whcn  Anihony's  morality  was  transformed  to  tlic 
public  sphere,  she  revcrscd  social  causality.  She  showcd  that  it  was 
not  alcohol  that  thrcaicns  womcn  aml  ihe  family,  but  thc  structurc 
of  marriagc  that  made  womcn  vulnerable  to  drunkcn  husbands. 

Her  ncw  analysis  rcficclcd  a  sliift  in  cmphasis  to  society,  group 
behavior,  institutions,  and  political  meanings.  1  Icr  private  riglu- 
eousncss  ovcr  personal  transgression  bccamc  externalizcd  to  a  civil 
rcsponsibility  and  an  cgalitarian  ethic  fit  for  confronting  social  is- 
sucs  in  thc  public  world.  Anthony  learncd  that  it  was  not  woinen's 
private,  moralistic  picty  that  allowed  womcn  to  infhicncc  thc  world 
as  the  guardians  of  its  morality.  It  was  actually  thc  revcrsc:  The 
public  sphere  controllcd  by  men,  dcfincd  the  limits  and  shaped  thc 
possibililics  of  thc  private.  As  Anthony's  subjcctivity  refornied  aroimd 
her  egalitarian  eihics,  her  political  work  took  on  cicar  dcfinition.  A 
violation  of  thc  moral  code  was  no  longcr  wrong  becausc  it  of- 
fcnded  somc  vague  prcccpis  of  pr(»pricty  or  idcas  of  personal  sin- 
fulness,  but  becausc  it  violaicd  human  bcings  civil  and  political  rights. 
Further,  that  violation  was  found  not  only  in  individual  acts,  it  was 
systematized  into  institutions  like  marriagc  and  slavery  and  Icgal- 
izcd  by  the  courts  and  governments.  Transformation  from  inter- 
nalizcd  picty  to  moral  and  elhical  position  takcn  in  thc  public  world 
was  a  struggic  in  political  consciousness,  a  story  of  thc  rcforinula- 
tion  of  subjcctivity  that  bccamc  nccessary  once  Antliony  began  to 
make  choiccs  /hat  took  her  outsidc  thc  homc  and  tcachinc.      .      c-       ^0 

What  I  am -^4+eHH^hcrc  is  a  thcory  of  dcvfclop^^^ent  thot  tnUe^»^^ 
political  consciousncss^^^itc^;i1mnintioi^'t4ti4:^identifics  develop-  ->,   ^^^^^^ 
nient  as  transformation  aiKl  not  mercly  a  progression  fronl  onc  stnge 
to  anoliicr.  Tolitical  consciousness  is  coiisciousncss  of  domination 


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nnd  it  rcquircs  ;/;/ic;uning  whnt  one  lins  bccn  iniight  in  orcicr  to  not 
kfiow  ilmt  onc  nnd  onc's  group  nrc  llic  objecto  of  Joniinntion.  Un- 
dcr  doniination  niornlity  is  intcrnnlixcd  and  slmpcs  tlic  seif  so  thnt 
it  will  not  conflict  wiili  or  challcngc  power,  in  ihc  ninetecnth  Cen- 
tury, limt  niennt  ndhering  tu  a  niornlity  tlint  was  not  mcant  to  go 
bcyond  tbc  privntc  spliere.  To  takc  niornl  nnd  ctliicnl  positions  ovcr 
tbcir  dcinands  for  legal  nnd  politicnl  rights,  wonicn  nnd  tbcir  move- 
ment had  to  trnnsform  ilieir  morality  into  an  etbicnl  rcsponsibility 
tbat  wüiild  rcflect  botb  tbcir  nnnlysis  of  collcctivc  domination  nnd 
tbc  morni  bnscs  for  tbeir  proposcd  rcmcdies.  \\\  Antbony's  case,  t!iis 
mcani  abnndoning  tbe  pieiy  of  true  womnnbood  for  a  morality  bascd 
on  radicnl  egniitnrinnism. 

Tbc  effect  on  Antbony  was  pronounced  and  it  rcvenis  bow  po- 
litical  consciüiisness  sbnpes  subjcctivity.  Consciousness  of  donn'na- 
tion  produced  awnreness  of  tbc  possibilitics  wbicb  would  surpass 
it.  As  Antbony's  public  work  opcned  ncw  futurcs  ft^ber  witb  many 
unknowns  bcforc  bcr,  bcr  life  bcgan  to  rcvcal  wbnt  bad  bappcncd 
to  woinen  likc  ber  niarried  sistcrs  wbosc  lives  werc  dcfincd  by  im- 
possibilities  raibcr  tbnn  opportunitics.  Marringc  i evealcd  wbat  wonicn 
cannot,  must  not,  sbould  not  and  ultimntely  will  not  do.  Antbony 
irniisfiKMicd  tbe  objicuvc  rcalily  of  an  old  mai^Ps  lifc  inlo  a  t^'^v^ 
rcnli.y  for  bcrsdf,  wbicb  surpasscd  tbc  picvious  dcfinition  of  woi\icn,^J[^ 
nnd  tbc  fuiurc  opencd  bcforc  bcr. 

By  transforniing  personal  picty 
inio  civil  rc5poiisibilily,  sbe  bcgan  to  connect  ber  cxpcricncc  of  cboicc 
ai]d  possibility  to  all  women  and  to  tbc  objcctivc  condiiions  tbat 
block  tbeir  futurc,  as  well  as  tbc  conditions  tbat  u^nsccnd  tbcir  • 
iminanencc,  wbicb  domination  makcs  impossible."^;J/f bis  rcvcaling 
knowicdgc  of  tbe  seif  and  tbc  olber  is  political  conscioitsncss. 


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llic  fulcrum  bctwccn  tbc  inciividual  and  bistory  is  tbc  social  group. 
In  1949,  Simone  de  Ueauvoir  notcd  tbat  cxcept  in  fcminist  gntbcr- 
ings,  womcn  do  not  say  •'wc."  By  contrast,  "rroletarians  sny  'Wc*; 
Ncgrocs  also.  Regarding  tbcmselvcs  as  subjects,  tbcy  transform  tbc 
üourgcüis,  tbc  wbites,  into  *otbcrs.'  But  womcn  do  not  say  wc."  a 
Womcn  will  not  entcr  bistory  one  by  one;  tbat  is  not  tbc  naturc  of 

C power  and  domination. X^'^^  ^vomnn■will  ctUer  bigtory  onlr  whcn 
iHl-wettYcn-"rrTif7-ljLL,iuj>L  in  defiance  uf  nralc  domifi.ittf^t!  vvom< 
eloi med  tbcir  own  b i^^ry  nnd  .sie  luakmg  k.^^nien  nuist 
cated  in  tbcir  own  bistorical  group. ^NX'bclbcr  or  not  any  onc  womai 
f    ^^crtly  identibes  with  womcn  as  her  group,  womcn  exist  as  a  class 
]]y  viriuc  of  tbcir  coHectivc  relati'    .sU)  male  powctgs^fKJK^J 

Flow  ibcn  do  women  form  tbcir  own  group  idcnlily?  Wbat  is 
involvcd  in  resiructuring  subjcctivity  from  bcing  unsingle  to  idcn- 
lificniiun  witb  oncself  and  wiib  women?_  Determinisms  arc  ovcr- 
come  tbrougb  cboicc.  Making  cboiccs  and  projccting  from  tbc  past 
onio  a  ncw  acliviiy  nicans  realiz.ing  not  only  wbat  one  can  do  but 
wlmt  onc  luiist  do.  Tbis  continiinlly  rcvcnis  ncw  possibilitics  —  ncw 
bccüiningT^gnin  Anibony's  lifc  is  illusiraiivc.  l>TTr-HfrHH>^Uv4^ 
e-rnmining  Lu.i  il.iI  Li»t;irv— tbc  dccision  to  remain  singic— is  so 
cijlly  (tSjt  is.  pobticaily)  micrprcicd  as  an  ineviiability  or  non- 
^^un^t.  Dccidn'5  to  marry  is  givcn  tbc  appcnrance  of  a  dramatic 
dcc!5:on  markcd  by  Irpil  announccments,  civil  and  religious  ccrc- 
monics,  cbange  of  residcncc,  and  for  tbc  woman  cbangc  of  social 
Status.  In  otber  words,  marriagc  appears  to  bc  tbc  Institution  tbat 
1$  socially  constructed  and  cbosen  — tberefore  not  at  all  incvitabic. 
Yet  It  IS  tbc  legitimizcd  social  location  tbat  cncloscs  womcn  in  atem- 
poral, universalized  rolcs  of  scxuality  and  motbcrbood,  tbc  activc 
contcxt  in  wbicb  domination  is  intcrnalizcd  and  incvitability  be- 
comcs  subjcctively  siructured  in  dissociation  from  woman's  group 
identity. 


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I.n..  onc  s  seif,  IS  tl,c  conscqucncc  of  wo.ncn  brcnking  il.cir  idctity 
Iroin  tlicir  sttbjectwc  wc. 

In  Opposition  to  tliis  world  vicw  of  wo.nan  Stands  vvomnirs  drcnin  ^ 
to  bc  a  woninn  unto  hcrscif.  To  l)c  a  wonian  whcsc  iclcniity  nnd 
hfc  nrc  slmpcd  througli  her  idcas,  her  actioits,  and  her  own  projecls. 
1  hc  dcsirc  to  live  with  anotlicr  and,  coniradiciorily,  to  bc  a  wonian  . 
luiio  oncscif  is  niorc  of  a  dilcninia  for  niany  lato  Iwcnticth-ccntiiry  I 
women  than  it  was  for  ilieir  sislers  a  Century  bcforc.  Sonic  wonicn 
attcnipt  to  approxirnatc  that  drcam  by  finding  ''a  rooni  of  onc's 
own/*  Oihcrs  rcnlizc  sonic  of  what  ii  ineans  to  bc  woinan  unto 
oncself  whcn  iheir  childrcn  nrc  grown  and  gonc,  and  thcy  arc  no 
I'  iigcr  witli  thcir  nintc.  1  ragically,  sonie  women  nevcr  toucli  thesc 
possibililics.  Indccd,  in  our  tinics,  it  is  ihc  inlcniion  of  riglit-wing 
antifcniinisin  to  insnrc  ihat  woincn  ncvcr  will  j 


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I Toin  cxniniiiing  wonicn's  lives,  wc  c.in  rcdcfinc  llic  incaning  of  bcing 
a  wonian  and  discovcr  wlmt  nmsculine  hisiory  has  supprcsscd:  how 
wonicn  mnkc  liisiory  and  ilicrcforc  who  women  arc.  Thus,  woincn's 
biogrnpliy  nuist  bc  a  ncw  rcading  of  hisiory,  wliich  dcmands  ihc 
rcwriling  of  all  hisiory.  But  ilmt  is  not  cnough.  Wonien's  lives  havc 
ciihcr  bccn  liidtlcn  bchind  ihc  portrayals  of  tlicm  as  wives,  niotliers, 
and  loveis;  or,  wlicn  women  cnnnot  bc  defincd  through  csscntiahst 
iinagc«;,  ihcir  lives  havc  bccn  viciously  di.Morlcd,  as  in  ihc  casc  of 
Susan  Vi.  Antliony. 

Too  often  biographics  of  women  liavc  short  changcd  tiicir  sub- 
jccts  by  assuming  ihat  ilic  fullncss  of  womaifs  subjcctivity  is  cquat- 
nblc  with  tlicir  personal  lives,  whcrc  intimatc  rclations  with  luis- 
bands,  lovers,  and  ciuldicn  oficn  usurp  thc  searcli  for  intcraction 
and  subjcctivity  ihat  wc  discovcr  whcn  wc  find  liic  diverse  and  sig- 
nificant  way  wonicn  act  in  ihcir  own  historical  circumstanccs.  "1  hc 
tmerging  genrc  of  women's  biography  nuist  bc  based  on  a  scarch 
for  womcn's  subjcciivity,  wlierc  ihc  subjcct  bcconics  known  to  us 
througli  her  actions  and  her  history.  ,  .^^^ 

1  l.story  bcconics  a  dynarnic  nctivc  forcc  rcvcnicd  in  tl,c  nrcscnt. 
act.MK  Ol,  tl.c  futurc.  Tl.crcf„rc  .l.is  coLccpt  ,.f  w.Mnn.'..  |,io,;n.,,l,y 
i^,fW-  uMKT.nal  will,  -phiciMK  woinc,  i.,  l,ist„ry,"  as  if  history  is 
n.i  nircndy  fonncd  rcnlity  nnd  all  wc  nccd  .0  do  is  nukc  a  slot  in 
K  for  uoM.cn.  lmtrnt+H-^h,4-fJ,a4-«l,^«,m>m-r*«mm««Kmir-t,f^ 
Ucre  WC  niust  distinguisli  hctwccn  ihc  inicrprctation  ncccssary  in 
wonicn-s  b.ogrnpliy  froni  that  in  biographics  of  nicn.  Ccncrally  nicn's 
l.le  storics  rcMcct  thc  known  socicty  and  acccplcd  rcnditions  of  his- 
tory   Cü.tsaiiicnily  traditional  historical  pctioditation  providcs  a 
valui  hasc  for  intcrprctiuK  ntcn's  lives  bccansc  it  highlights  and  rc- 
vcals  tl.cm.  But  woiucn's  biogrnpliy  nuist  break  through  the  csscn- 
tinlisms  that  hnvc  a  grasp  on  thcir  idcntitics  and  givc  thcni  thcir 
place  ni  soc.cty    |„  Ufii„g  xvonicn's  biogrnpliy  fron,  its  in.bcdded- 
ness  in  csscm.ahsni.  womcirs  history  can  bc  fonnd  through  bio-  ' 

grnphical  Interpretation  which  cntcrs  into  thc  historical  coinplcxity 
nnd  mult.dinicns.onality  of  womcn's  lives  that  hns  bccn  n.adc  all 
«he  n.ore  coinplex  by  tlicir  exciusion  fron,  history.  If  woincn's  bi- 
ügrnphy  is  wnttcn  fron,  an  approach  that  bcgiiis  with  tlicir  rolcs  as 
moihers  and  sexual  parincrs  whcrc  a  history  of  childbcaring  and 

motherhoodiss.mr'raddcdon.thcresultisthntwomcn'shvcsarc  ,     ,    ^  . 

not  trcntcd  as  ,f  thcy  nrc  niuliidimcnsiona!  at  M.  M^  juu.>....Js^  JuO^d-^'^  .f -^-Ij  . 

Im  writ.ng  thc  biography  of  Susan  ü.  Anthony.  I  wa?ablc  to  dis-  "^^   ^"' 

Cover  her  as  an  acting  subjcct  by  cxploring  the  choiccs  shc  nindc- 
thc  largc  and  s.nall  oncs,  as  well  as  tlic  significant  andinsignificant 
ones.  Uioicc  is  action;  it  rcvcals  human  cngagcmcnt  with  thc  world 
and  othcrs  around  us.  It  is  thc  social  plane  whcrc  onc  intcracts  frotn 


/ 


Thevry  of  Wofficfi*s  üio^rophy 


X-xi    I 


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Oy' 


i        / 


iiucntiüiinlity  willi  rcccivcd  rcnlity.  Making  cluiiccs  iiu)vcs  tlic  iii- 
clividiinl  from  rccciving  rcalily  lo  ;Klinj;  upon  it  aiul  lluis  trnnblnling 
rcccivcd  rcnliiy  into  her  lifc.  Clioicc  hns  to  do  wiih  tlic  fiilurc;  it  is 
cütisiaiuly  rcncwcd  forwnrd  moliun  luward  soinclhing.  Tlic  fulurc 
nnd  hüw  a  woinnii  intcracis  wiih  it  is  shnpcd  by  niul  rcquircs  pro- 
jccting  froin  thc  past.  — %x:.  — 

These  distinctioiis  nrc  criticnl  lo  uiulcrstnnding  huw  womcii  in- 
tcrnahzc  ilomiiKUiuii,  becnusc  ihc  abihly  lo  conccptunlizc  ihc  fu- 
lurc, and  ihc  hisiory  from  vvhich  tlic  fiiturc  is  projected,  nrc  criicinl 
lo  cxpcricnciiig  nnd  Icnrniiig  who  wc  are  and  what  wc  cnn  bcconic. 
If  woniaii  is  liniilcd  lo  a  personal  past,  which  ilciachcs  her  from 
idcnlificnlion  wiih  her  grunp,  and  W  liisiory  has  cxciudcd  or  diniin- 
ishcd  ihc  rcprcscninlion  of  licr  gronp  in  iis  slory,  her  snbjcclivity 
bccoincs  slrnclured  hy  a  pasl  nnd  lliercforc  lovvard  a  fntiirc  thnt  is 
confincd  by  thcse  hniiis.  A  confined  and  Hiniied  futurc  diininislics 
possibihty  and  iliat  in  turn  will  effect  how  far  a  wontan  ihinks  slic 
cnn  go  in  ncling  for  and  from  hcrscIfc^amt-Hgr^in  ihccc  linnlc  oi>  "^ 
nvJiou-AvUt-be-fhtiped-tvy  ihc  oxv^nr  of  hishny  necordcd  lo  herH^^i"  '^ 
ptiat-bcfng  lüiiSiiiUK'd  b)  Im  pLiat^iml,  fn>nilii^t-|>f^M  na  nvcII  as  tl^g 
Story  uf  hiaory  to  lhe-c:c<em-4hi^Mt-44»clvtdcs  licr  eli>sii 

Suji  World  where  mcn  iiavc  nnogantly  rclained  hislory  for  thci>>- 
sclv^sjlvhön  a  wonicn  projccts  l)cyonil  Iier  personal  lifc,  sj^p^ces 
y  n  hist()ry's5|the  *\)lher."  llc  is  historical,  and  h^-^utTÜcr Stands 
her  as  a  tiniclcss  nriK^sal.  Her  snhjeciiviiy,  rnnfmcd  lo  ihc  per- 
sonal, is  limited,  dcfinco^iid  defornicd  h><f^niporalily  nnd  uni- 
vcrsnlizntion  which  have  bc'''w;ri;ha^e'1ür  fornuilating  her  fnture. 
In  contrast,  wonien's  biograplw>lr:ii"h>ct)gaged  with  thc  subjcets  in 
her  innltitlitncn^ionnlity  res  <7fcs  n  hisiory  toxv^jnicti  that  hicaks  iheir 

»ai^is  why  so  nuich  is  at  sinket 


aiLiniuxality^l  haj^is  why  so  nuich  is  at  sinke  Irwo^nling  a  ncvv 
genrc  of  wmiicfTs  biography:  wonien's  lifc  slory  ns  tüTaKüujjniphy 


i 


is  csscpiitTTtü  cinnncipntion.  ll  is  wherc  woinen  will  finally  rec 

Ihercforc,  wonien's  biugrnphy  can  no  longer  be  confiilcd  lo  thc 

Slory  of  woincn's  private  livcs.  Nor  can  wonicn  bc  sntisficd  only 
wiih  a  rieh,  ncw  social  hislory  of  cvcrydny  lifc,  cven  ihough  tlicsc 
nccounls  havc  givcn  us  hisiories  of  ihc  hiddcn  realiiics  of  hoiisc- 
work,  nioihcrhood,  and  of  wonicn's  networks.  It  takcs  wonicii  or- 
gnnizcd  on  rheir  own  behnlf  lo  rcclaini  nll  that  nien  havc  nppro- 
prinicd  for  thcnisclves  —  pnrliculnrly  ihe  grand  periods,  major  cpochs, 
and  cras  of  ihcir  hislory.  Womcn's  hislory  will  bc  a  comprehcnsivc 
rcalily  whcii  not  only  arc  thc  storics  of  individual  wonicn  and  thc 
hisiories  of  wonicn's  daily  livcs  recordcd  biit  wlien  feminism  forccs 
a  rewriting  of  all  liistory.  It-i»-c^bvtou3  fltt^t  it  i.^  \^Kn  cnoiigh  lo  ni>ikc 
wjQinc4V^pewbgc>r  u\  nmlc  hifiiory,  giving  iin  "woinen  in  lIiL  ^■ia 
pHlctJtyic  lui''  ui  "lhe-|f*^^Jf5tMM<in-rrr>iimH^ — xx,U^f^K^nr  rU^  «imy  Ki»t 
Irr^f^i^d,  ihrongh  UH^P^biography  wc  will  conic  to  know  who  woinan 
is  and  what  shc  cnn  bc  —  cven  by  facing  whnt  shc  has  bccn  dcnicd, 
not  pcrmiltcd,  or  foibiddcn  lo  own  of  herseif  and  thc  world.  Rc- 
capturing*<>ff4^biügrnphy  for  women  is  to  insist  on  having  it  all  for 
our  siibjcct,  for  her  class,  for  ourscivcs.  


I 


\i4 


/ 


Nofcs 


/2.S- 


I 


Notes 


-'  I 


7 
3 

3 

/ 

t 
3 


i 

B 

5 

BPL 

^ 

.C 

7 

HL 

1 

LC 

^ 

MHS 

t) 

NYPL 

RHS 

2 

RPL 

^ 

IlMSC 

4 

R 

5 

SL 

< 
a 

SFHS 

SSC 

? 

SD 

3 

URL 

-V 

V 

Abbrcviatious  UscJ  ht  thc  Notes 

IMF.  FOUOWINC;  AP.CjmVFS  IIOinrNC  dkk.inai.  susan  n.  aniiiony 
mnnu^cript  pnpcrs  wcrc  coiisiiltcd  niul  nrc  refcrrcJ  td  in  thc  Notes  in  nn 
nbbrcviatcd  form. 

n.ificroft  I.ihrnry 

Bosrcin  Public  Libraryf^ 

Coriicll  Univcrsity  Librnry 

Hnnriiigton  Ijlirnry 

I.ibrnry  of  0)ni;rc$s  I 

M.iss.ichusctf5  Historic.ll  Society 

New  York  Public  Library 

Rocbcstcr  Historicnl  Society 

Uücbcstcr  Public  Librnry 

llocbcsicr  Museum  Ä:  Science  Cicnicr 

Riirpers  Uiu'vcrsity,  Dtniplnss  l.ibr.iry 

Scblesinper  Librnry  on  tbe  I  I.vtory  c,f  Wmncn  in  Americn, 

Knilciiric 
Senccn  bnlls  Historicnl  Socictv 
Sopbin  Srnitb  CoHection,  Snurb  College 
Stowe-Dny  Fdundntion 
Univcrsity  of  Rocbcsfer  Libr.iry 
Vnssnr 


/■r 


&. 


I 
I 

i 


\ 


l 


rrolo 


^nc 


2.  EI.MbctI,  OJy  St.inton.  Susnn  U.  A.nlu.ny.  MntiWn  Josclyn  dcc 


I 


f 
I 

I 
f 


; 

m 


Tlicury  of  Woniai's  ISiogrophy 

I.  ncHicKc  si.,„i„.,  »„j  ii,„i„,  s,,,„„„  ni,„ti,,  tftjM,  (v,/v 


.//4 


i*a«i 


p'  J<87JSJI0H.  g,ric,  2Colu,„l,;,_D,rry  ^2.,r>M.ni4, 2.U.K7  1Ö.0.5J  / 

^anuRl,!^  ,nd  ünvid  PC.ucr  (Cl...,,..:  U„ivcrsi,y  of  Chiogo  1;";; 

4.  J„n„  Kell,.,  "The  Social  Rclniic,  „f  .l,c  Stxcv  Mc.t,oJ„l„cic.il  l.n- 
r  .c.-,,..,.,,  of  W.,.„n,-,  H.*,nry."  i.,  \Vo.„c„.  I  Uslvry  and  Thcory  (U   „ '". 


> 


^(p2) 


:■    I 


^     . 


f 
I 

9 


5.  See  Jean  Paul  Sartre.  The  Family  Idiot:  Gustave  Flaubert  1821- 
18  5  7,  vol.  1 y  translbted  from  French  by  Carol  Cosman  '(Chicago: 
Universlty  of  Ch Icago ' Press .  1981)  for  both  blography  and  method 
which    approaches    the    unlty    of    these    dlchotomies. 

6.  Paul    Ricoeur,    177.   , 

7.  Herbert  Blumer,  "  I  n  t roduc t ion  to  the  Transaction  Edition," 
Cntiqur  of  Research  in  the  Social  Sciences.  An  Appraisal  of 
Thomas  and  Zani escki ' 8  ,The  Polish  Peasant  in  Europe  and» America 
(New  Brunswick:  Transaction,  1975 )  .  Se"e  xxx-xxxi  ii  TöT  ä 
discussion  of  repr esb ^ ta t i vene ss  in  life-history  methodology. 
See  also  Daniel  Bertaux,  "L'approche  biogra  ph  ique ,  sa  vaHdite 
methodologique,  ses  po t en t ia  li ties , "  Cahiers  Internat ionaux  de 
socioUte  69  (1980):  206-8  for  a  discussion  of  Saturation  in 
biographical    methodology. 


8.  Kathleen  Barry,  "The  Method  of  Blography  in  Feminist 
Research,"  Paper  developed  and  presented  at  Centre  National*'de  a 
Recherche  Sc  1 en t i f iqu e  ,  Laboratoire  d ' An t hro polog ie  Sociale, 
Paris,  1986.  This  concept  of  the  fundamental  dynamics  of 
interaction  is  drawn  from  Herbert  Blumer's  concept  of  symbollc 
interaction  based  on  the  work  of  George  Herbert  Mead.  See 
Herbert  Blumer,  Symbollc  In ter ac t loni sm :  Perspective  and  Methods 
(Englewood  Cliffs:  Pr en t ice-Ha 1 1 ,  1969;  and  George  Herbert  Mead, 
'■'^"*^'      Seif     and     Society      from     the     Standpoint     of     a     Social 


Behaviorist  (Chicaco:  Universlty  of  Chicago  Press,  193^ ,  '1967 ) . 
While  flnding  symbollc  interaction  an  important  expllcatlon  of 
subjoctlvlty  In  Interaction,  thls  paper  explores  the 
Intersections    of    Interaction    wlth    social    structure    and    hlstory. 

9.    Sartre    s    concept    of    the      negation    of     the    negatlon"    is     useful 


her 


See  Search  for  a  Method,  where  he  shows  that 


fi 


def  ined    by 


the  negatlon  of  the  refused  reallty  in  the  natne  of  the  reaiity  t. 
be  produced,  It  rena.ins  the  captlve  of  the  actlon  w'hich  it 
clarlfies,  and  disappears  along  wlth  It,"  (p.  92)  and'  that  "only 
the     project,     as    a    medlatlon     betweon     two    moments    of    objectivity 


can    account     for     hlstory;     that     Is     for     human    creativity 
York;    Knopf,    1963,    Vintage,    1968) 


•I 


^N 


ew 


10.  See  SiTione  deBeauvolr,  The  Secon  d  Sex  ,  where  she  equates 
imnanence  wlth  stagnaljion,  "the  brutish  life  of  subjerflon  to 
given  condltlons."  translated  from  French,  H.M.  Parshley  (New 
York:    Bantam    1953)    xxvlil. 


0 

l 

F 


/??>? 


11.  Simone  deBeauvoir,  The  S 


econd  Sex,  xviii 


12.  Jean  Paul  Sartre,  The  S 


earch  for  a  Method,  85-100 


i. 


I'.- 


% 


Eine  »Prinzessin«  und  ein  Prinz  ohne  La 


»längst  amortisiert«  habe  und  es  jetzt  nichts  mehr  anderes  gebe  »als 
-  Sterben«^'*.  Das  war  natürlich  iibertr  eben,  Ausdruck  einer  momenta- 
nen Stimmuiig'und  wohl  mit  Blick  jouf  die  Adressatin  geäußert.  Die 
Ehe  hätte  sich  vielleicht  »amortisiert«,  vom  »Sterben^V  könnte  jedoch 
nicht,  oder  wenn,  dann  nur  in  übertragenem  Sinne,  die  Rede  sein. 
Mard\a  und  Minna  Bcrnays,  »Prinzeßchen  und  Prinzoßchcnschwc- 
ster«''^  hatten  ihre  ursprüngliche  Faszination  für  Freud  zwar  nach 

wenigcrjahren^^^ 

tion   iedoch  sehr  rasch  durch  andere  Frauen  ersetzt: '.zuerst   durch 

»Patientinnen«  und  dann  durch  mehr  und  mehr  »Analytikerinnen«. 

Es  entstanden  jene  »intellclctuellen  Reihen<<^^\   von  denen  in  den 

folgenden  Kapiteln  die  Rede  sein  wird.  \ 


li, 


1^ 
::» 
»s 

•  • 

r. 


•'l 


w 


fi 


I 

>. 

"■•1" 
••t 


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38 


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W 
■•"♦ 


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n 


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I 


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V. 


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.  I 
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i 


Bertha  Pappenheim  alias  »Anna  O. . .« 


! 


i:. 


2.  »Die  eigentlich^  Entdeckerin  der 
Psychoanalyse«? 

BERTHA  PAPPENHEIM  {1859-1936)  alias 

»ANNAO...« 


13 

Die  Kämpferin:  Bertha  Pappenheim 


Es  gihi  Menschen  von  Geist,  es  gibt  Menschen  von  Leidenschaft,  beides  ist 
nick  so  häufig,  ivie  man  meint,  es  gibt,  noch  viel  seltener,  Menschen  von 
Geist  und  Leidenschaft.  Ein  Mensch  leidenschaftlichen  Geistes  ist  Bertha 
Papl^enheim  gewesen.  -:,  •        • 

Diese  emphatischen  Sätze  finden  sich  in  dem  Beileidsschreiben  des 
Philosophen  ^Martin  Buher  zum  Tode  von  Bertha  Pappenheim  am 
28.  Mai  1936.  Die  Frau,  für  die  Buber  diese  Schwärmer jschen  Worte 
fand,  hatte  drei  jähre  zuvof- die  Nationalsozialisten  waren  in  Deutsch- 
land gerade  an  die  Macht  gekommen  -  ihre  eigene  Bedeutung  sehr  viel 
skeijp^cher  eingeschätzt,  '^vie  die  Nachrufe  zeigen,  die  sie  -  ironisch, 
den  Stil  von  fünf  verschietlenen  Zeitungen  imitierend  -  selh^verlaßt 
hat:  I 


»Familicnhlatt«: 

Sie  war  eine  Frau,  die  jahrzehntelang  eigensinnig  für  ihre  Ideen  eingetreten 
ist,  Ideen,  die  in  der  Zeit  lagäx.  Aber  sie  tat  es  oft  in  Formen  und  auf  Wegen, 
die  einer  Entwicklung  vorg^Ufen  wollten,  so  wie  sie  auch  nicht  nach  jeder- 
manns  Sinn  und  Geschmack  waren. 

Schädel 

»Israelit«:  g 

Noch  Herkunft  und  Erziehung  eine  orthodoxe  Frau,  die  sich  im  Laufe  der 
Jahrzehnte  und  unter  dem  Nachweislichen  Einßuß  revolutionierender  Ge- 
danken der  Frauenbewegui^  von  ihrer  Wurzel  loszulösen  vermeinte  -  sich 
oft  feindselig  gebürdete  -  sie  aber  doch  nicht  verleugnete.  Sie  hätte  (.  .  .)  der 
Orthodoxie  bessere.  Dienste  ]eisten  müssen. 

Schädel,    ::  -  ' 


;  • 


39 


H 


t 


■f.. 


i. 


'   .       « r  •     .'4      >» 

»Die  eigentliche  Entdeckerin  der  Psychoanalyse«? 

■ — r — — — T~"  ~  ^ 

»C;V. -Zeitung«:  '  :?l  s 

'.(.  ; .  j  cin^  Frau  von  guten  Fähigkeiten,  käml^ferisch  jüdischem  Wesen  und 
cleutscher  Kuüur  g!dc/i  i^cr/)/Iic;itct, ;  ilie  sich  nbcr  in  ihrer  Schärfe  und 
AMmung  des  Gedankenguts,  das  j^r  7ucht  zusagte,  hcu'ußt  außerhalb 
unserer  Reihen  stellte.  *.|  ;    b 

(...)  Scheide/      "  .:!  ;r 

»Jüdische  Rundschau«:  j         •  '■. 

Ei)ie  c'i/rige,  alte  Gegi\erin  unserer  Beilegung,  der  dennoch  jüdisches 
Bewußtsein  und  Kraft  nicht  abzuslncchen  sind.  Wo  sie  deutsch  zu  sein 
glaubte,  war  sie  doch  nur  eine  Assimihinj 

Schädel    '■'  ■'  j 

»Blätter  des  jüdischen  Frauenbundes«:  *■ 

Sie  giiindctc  im)ahrc  1904  den  »Jüdischen  FranenbuncU,  dessen  liedcw 

tung  längst  nxcht  erfaßt  ist.  >  ji 

Die  Wkltjudenschaft  -  Männer  und  Frauen  -  höruUen  iJxrJür  diese  snzmle 

Tat  dankbar  sein.  Sie  sind  es  nicht. 


Schädel 


.7 


Ir' 


Hinter  dem  sclicrzhaften  Spiel  mit  dem  eigenen  Nnchrut  zu  Lebenszei- 
ten ist  die  Bitterkeit  der  Verfasserin  deutlich  zu  spüren:  Gerade  diejeni- 
gen, dcnen~ihre  unermüdliche  Arbeit  gcRolten  hatte  -  die  jüdischen 
Frauen  -,  werdyi  ihr  kein  ehrendes  Andenken  bewahren  und  ihre 
Bedeutung  v^d^en.  All  ihr  Einsatz  für  die  jüdische  Fmanzipalions- 
bewcgung  wird  umsonst  gewesen  sein.  Niemand  wird  ^sie  vermissen, 
weil  sie  für  niemand  »etwas«^  bedeutet  hat.  ■; 

21  Jahre  zuvor  -damals  befand  sith  die  Initiatorin  und  Vorsitzende 
des  »Jüdischen  Frauenbundes«  auf  dem  Höhepunkt  ihrer  öffentlichen 
Wirksamkeit  und  Anerkennung  -  hatte  die  53jährige  Bcrtha  Pappen- 
heim  bereits  ein  sehr  melancholisches  Fazit  ihres  Lebens  gezogen.  An 
eine  Freundin  schrieb  sie  1912:        \  '         t 


(.  . .)  icli  bin  weder  in  meiner  Arbeit  und  Art  nocli  in  ,meincr^Person 
eingcti/ur^elt  und  notu/endig  geu.'ordcn.j  Für  tiichis  und  nieninndcn. 

Die  depressive,  die  eigene  Leistung  entwertende  Charakterisierung  der 
eigeneTP^t^  steht  im  krassen  Gegensatz  sowohl  zu  den  zahlreichen 
positiven  Nachrufen,  die  dann  tatsächlich  zu  ü^em  Tocl  -  trotz  der 


Berdia  Pappenheim  alias  »Anna  O.  ■ .« 


Dcrtba  Pappenlicim 


»finsteren  Zeiten«  -  ersdiicnen  sind,  wie  auch  zu  der  öffentlichen 
Anerkennung,  die  Bertha?  Pappenheim  -  ungeachtet  aller  Anfeindun- 
gen im  Einzelfall  -  als  Aktivistin  der  jüdischen  Frauenbewegung  zeidc; 

hens  erfahren  hat.  i 

ha  rappcnhci 


iC 


••  •# 


"Und  doch  hat  Bertha  Pappenheim  mit  ihrer  depressiven  Prognose 
recht  behalten.  Wer  kennt  heute  noch  ihren  Namen,  und  wer  weili  um 
ih7r?ät)eit?"Wer  weiß,  laß  sie  I899,die  revolutionäre  Kampfschrift 
»Verteidigung  der  Recht|  der  Fra^n«  (1792)  von  Mary  Wollstone- 
craft  neu  übersetzt  und  auf,eigene  Kosten  herausgegeben  hat  ,  wer,  daß 
sie  1910^ie  »Denkwürdigkeiten  der  Glückel  von  Hameln«,  eines  der 
bedÜuSidsten  kulturgescj^ichtlichen  Dokumente  zum  Leben  jüdischer 
Frauen  im  Deutschland  d|s  17.  Jahrhunderts,  aus  dem  Westjidd^ischen 
übersetzt  und  ebenfalls  alif  eigene  Kosten  herausgegeben  hat  ?  Wer 
kennt  ihr  agitatorisches  Schauspiel  »Frauenrecht«  von  189?  ,  wer  .hre 
leidenschaftlichen  Aufsäße  zur  »Judenfrage«  0900)«  oder  zum  »Mäd- 
chenhandel« (1929)'?  Wer  weiß,  daß  sie  1_902  die  »Weibliche  Für- 


sorge«,  eine  Flif^^nis|ion  für'  in  Not  geratene  Frauen,  gegründet, 
1904  den  »Jüdischen  Fr4iei-»bund«  ins  Leben  gerufen  und  1.907  auf 
dii^  Kosten  ein  »Hei^  für  gefährdete  Mädchen  und  un^KillHhe 


Kinder«  eingerichtet  hat|  das  in  der  Pogromnacht  am  4.Novembei 


..c. 


w 


41 


.! 


i " 


•  k 


ji 


I 

0 


I        -         ' 
«Dic'eigcntUchltntdeck^^^ 

2 — ^ j : \i     ■ 

■■'  '■■■■  \  X,  •  c^nr^  wnrde?'°  Und  wer  kehnt  ihre  vielfältigen 
1938  von  den  Naz.s  zerstört  ^"T  .  ^^T  .^^j,,,  Fri.envereine«  und 
Aktivitäten  im  Vorstand  des  »Bundes  ^^"^^^  ^  ,^  5 

,.  .Bund zur  Bekän.pa.ng '-'f^^:^&Z^^^ 
'  zialisten  und  Ke-^-inncn  -  ^^^^^J^^^^^  jer  Deutschen 
und  Frauenrechtleru.    t  s.e     tro^  e.^    MeÄl^<.  die  \95±.^^ 

S;Sr):^::aXc^nLdes)odischen:p^^^ 

Sien  -  in  der  Öffentlichkeit  s0Jutwi^I£IS£S5en.| 


.1 

•  .-•  J 

«  •  J 


•:l.' 


.1 

•  1; 


.    .1 


\ 


•j: 


1?  :!• 
Fl:. 


Briefmarke  der  peutschen  Bundespost.  1 
„Dertho  Pappcnl^eim.  Helfer  der  Menschhe.t« 


'1 

!• 

r  t 

I: 
■i 

w 

h 

.  ••  •. 


Bertha  Pappenheim^llailAl}!^ 


O.  ••« 


TT 


Die  Patientin:  »Anna  O...«  \ 

11  £        ;        ..:  ■    !    -i 

aTTjiil^rühnue  Pati^ntlirän^e^^  Hyste- 

den  90er  ]al.en  des  vci,rigen]ahd^nde-^ 
ne-Theorienemwickelthaben^li^^o    n 

Bertha  Pappenheim.  ^|-^ -/^^^  C^entalen  Freud-Bio.r.v 

22  Jahre  ^-^^^^^^^'^^c^^Lin^^     ^^^  ^-»^  »^•'"^- 

Phie  -hSB^^^^i^^^^^^'^^^  die  spätere 

dem  Pseudonym  »Anna  U...«  aus  aen       y        ^^ 

Frauenrechtlerin  Bertha  Pappenheim  verberge^      ^  ^^.^  ^^_^    •• 

Was  aber  haben  ^f^^^^J^^^^-^n^  Bertha  Pappen- 
diffusen und  ^<^^-;  ^"I^^^X^^^  '  S  Organisatorin  für  die  Rechte 
heim,  die  ^^--^^'H^^'^':  die'  überliejer-^r^mkenge- 

''''<^B^::iEy:ZVsl'^nson  vor?  Sind  »Anna  O.  .  •« 
migcTTCÜnlKiiUcn  Erf  hlung    P  »Penthesilea«  und  sem 

und  Bertha  .^fP^^  hlX^nur^^^  t^^ 
sanftes  »Käthchen  vo^    p    „l  Ztzurück  in  die  Frühzeit  derjao- 
Die  Antwort  auf  d.|se  Frage  fuhrt  ^"  "";  '\     j;,-l[;i^,7^^^ 
analvse  und  die  Enfeg^^l^g^^ 

Fr^;STnTB?^  ^seinen  »Fünf  Vorlesungen       . 
(1 909)  hatte  Freud  r|ckblickend  ausgeführt:  ; 

„   j-      Ä.'  AipP.ychoamhse  ins  Üben  gerufen  zuhaben,  so 
Wenn  «  f'"  ^-^l!";.  ^ t    -^f^  ersten  An/ängerr  derselben  nicirt 

bis  loi 


A     tilhericht    mit  dem  Breuer 'die  gemeinsamen 

Sehen  wir  uns  ^enf  aUbe^^  ;  ^  ^^  ^^^^^^  ^^j^^^  3,^,^ 
»Hysterie-Studien«  |roHnete.  emma  g 

Patientin  folgendert|aßen  em:  ;          j             ^       . 


u. 


i". 


43 


i'.' 

■lii 


lU 


»Die  eigentliche  Entdeckerin  der  Psychoanalyse <t''      >  :   ij 


Ja' 

I 


S.i 


\ 


Frl.  AwxaO.  . .,  zur  Zeit  der  Erkrankung  {IS80)  21  Jahre  alt,  erscheint  als 
neurotfathisch  mäßißj  stark  belcistet  tlurch  einige  in  der  großen  Familie  vorge- 
komijxene  Psychosen:  die  Eltern  sind  nervös  gesund,  SiC:  selbst  früher  stets 
gesund,  ühuc  irgendein  hlervosuni^Avcüxrend  der  Entwicklungsl)eriode;  von 
bedeutender  Intel/igen^,  erstaunlich  scharfsinniger  Kombination  und  scharf- 
sichtiger huuition;  ein  kräftiger  Intellekt,  der  auch  solide  geistige  hlahrung 
verdaut  hätte  und  sie  brauchte,  nach  Verlassen  der  Schule  aber  nicht  erhielt. 
Reiche  poetische  und  phantastische  Begabung,  kontrolliert  durch  sehr  schar- 
fen  und  kritischen  Versfan J.  Dieser  letztere  machte  sie  auch  völlig  unsugge- 
stibel;  nur  Argumente,  nie  Behauptungen  hatten  Einfluß  auf  sie.  Ihr  Wille 
war  energisch,  zäh.  und  ausdauernd;  manchmal  zum  Eigensinn  gesteigert,  der 
sein  Ziel  nur  aus  Güte,  um  anderer  willen,  aufgab.        ;!  • 

Zu  den  wesentlicJisten  Zügen  des  Charakters  gehörte  mitjeidine  Güte:  die 
Pflege  und  Besorgung  einiger  Armen  und  Kranken  leistete  ihr  selbst  in  ihrer 
Krankheit  ausgezeichnete  Dienste,  da  sie  dadurch  einen  starken  Trieb  befrie- 
digen konnte.  -  Ihre  Stimmungen  hatten  immer  eine  leichte  Tendenz  z^nx 
Übermaße,  der  Lustiglieit  und  der  Jrauer;  daher  auch  einige  Launenhaftig- 
keit. Das  sexuale  Element  war  erstaunlich  unentwickelt;' die  Kranke,  deren 
Leben  7nir  dmchsicht^  wurde,  wie  selten  das  eines  Menschen  einem  ai\dern, 
hatte  nie  eine  Liebe  gehabt,  und  in  all  den  massenhaften  hlalluzinaüonen 
ihrer  Krankheit  tauchte  niemals  dieies  Element  des  Seelenlebens  empor. 

Diese  Patientin  kommt  mit  einer  Reihe  von  schweren  Störungen  zu 
Breuer:  starken  Kopfschmerzen,  Sehstörungen,  Lähmungserscheinun- 
gen,  Halluzinationen,  Absenzenj'  Angstzuständen  und  Sprachverlust. 
Breuer  diagnostiziert  »zwei  ganz  getrennte  Bewußtseinszustände«.  In 
dem  einen  sei  die  Kranke  »relativ  normal«  und  sanftmütig,  in  dem 
anderen  halluziniere  sie  und  sei  ihrer  Umgebung  gegenüber  »ungezo- 
gen«^^:  Die  Kranke  spricht  selbst  davon,  daß  sie  »zvyei  Ichs«^  habe, 
»ein  wirkliches  und  ein  schlechtes,  das  sie  zum  Schlimmen  zwinge«  . 
Breuer  bemerkt  dazu:  J 


11 


t 


Der  Gegensatz  ?:u;i5c/ien  der  unzurechnungsfähigen,  von  Halluzinationen 
gehetzten  Kranken  am  Tage  und  dem  geistig  völlig  klaren  Mädchen  bei  Nacht 
war  höchst  merkwürdig.  ^®  :t 


,t.i 
r 


••I 


Noch  merkwürdiger  erscheint  Bireuer  die  extreme  i^>Desorganisation 
der  Sprache«.*^  Zunächst  treten  starke  Sprachstörungen  auf,  die 
schließlich  zum  gänzlichen  Verlust  der  »Muttersprache«  führen.  Die 


44 


't  ■ 


i 


Bertha  Pappenheim  alias  »Anna  O. . .« 


Patientin  spricht  mehrl^re  Monate  lang  nur  noch  Englisch,  manchmal 
auch  Französisch  und  Italienisch:  y 


1 


,'ii 


i» 


Sie  sprach  nun  nur  Englisch  imd  verstand  nicht,  was  man  ihr  deutsch  sagte. 
Ihre  Umgebung  mußte  Ei\glisch  mit  ihr  sprechen:  selbst  die  Wärterin  lernte 
sich  einigermaßen  so  verständigen.  Sie  las  aber  Französisch  und  Italienisch; 
sollte  sie  es  vorlesen,  so  las  sie  mit  staunenerregender  Geläufigkeit,  fließend, 
eine  yortre/jflichc  englische  Übersetzung  des  Gelesenen  vom  Blatte. 

I  •  ■    •     ■  • 

Schließlich  verweigerte  die  Patientin  auch  noch  die  Nahrung,  und 
Breuer,  der  die  einzige  Person  ist,  auf  die  sie  positiv  reagiert  und  die  sie 
immer  erkennt^ \  muß^sie  wie  ein  Kind  füttern. 

Die  Behandlung  erweist  sich  als  schwierig  und  langwierig,  da  immer 
neue^  Beschwerden  auftreten.  Zudem  stirbt  während  der  Behandlung 
der  Vater  der  Patientin^  bei  dessen  nächtlicher  Pflege  die  Krankheits- 
Symptome  zuerst  aufgetreten  warei\.  Eines  Nachts,  als  sie  übermüdet 
am  Bett  des  Vaters  gesessen  habe,  hatte  sie  plötzlich  -  wie  sie  [Breuer 
erzählt  -  eine  seh warzc|Sch lange  gesehen,  die  sich  dem  kranken  Vater 
genähert  habe:  if  • 


Einmal  wachte  sie  nachts  in  großer  Angst  um  den  hochfiebernden  Kranken 
und  in  Spannung,  weil  von  Wien  ein  Chirurg  zur  Operation  erwartet  wurde. 
Die  Mutter  hatte  sich  für  einige  Zeit  entfernt,  w\d  Anna  saß  am  Kranken- 
bette, den  rechten  Arm  über  die  Stuhllehne  gelegt.  Sic  geriet  in  einen 
Zustand  von  Wachträuiixen  und  sah,  wie  von  der  Wand  her  eine  schwarze 
Schlange  sich  dem  t^ranKen  näherte,  um  ihn  zu  beißen.  (.  . .)  Sie  wollte  das 
Tier  abwehren,  war  abe?  wie  gelähmt;  der  rechte  Arm,  über  die  Stu/ille/ine 
/längend,  war  »eingeschlafen«,  (...)  und  als  sie  ihn  betrachtete,  verwandcl- 
ten  sich  die  Finger  in  kleine  Schlangen  mit  Totenköpfen  (Nägel). 

Breuer  löst  diese  Halkfzination  ziemlich  realistisch  auf: 


1!l< 


Es  ist  u'a/irsc/ieinlic/i,  daß  auf  der  Wiese  hinter  dem  Hause  wirklich  einige 
Schlangen  vorkamen,  üher  die  das  Mädchen  schon  früher  erschrocken  war, 

und  die  nun  das  Material  der  Halluzination  abgaben.       r:  • 

E  • ;:  V  .  ■ 

Auch  für  die  Lähmung  hat  Breuer  eine  einfache  Erklärung: 


45 


Il-, 


fl 


1 


»Die  eigent;lichc  Entdeckerin  der  Psychoanalyse^ 


_  r. 


r 


f." 
1 


li! 


Wa/irscheirj!ic/i  machte  sie  Versuche,  die  Schlange  mit  der  gelähmten  rechten 
Harid  zu  verjagen,  und  dadurch  trat  die  Anästhesie  und  jMhnwmg  derselben 
in  Assoziation  mit  der  Schlangenhäüuzination.         : ;'  |' ' 


;  I  V 

'A  ■    ^ 

Im  übrigen  steht  er  der  Patientin  zieniUch  hilflos  gegenüber.  Nicht  er 
ist  es,  der  den  Heilungsprozeß  vorantreibt,  sondern  die  Patientin,  die 
spontan  eine  Methode  der  freien  Assoziation  entwickelt  und  selbst 
entdeckt,  daß  sie  sich  durch  Erzählen  von  den  Krankheitssymptomen 
Ijcfreien  kann.  Deshalb  hajjonesjsie  als  »die  eigentliche  Entdecker  in 
der  kathartischen  Methode«  bezeichnet  und  dainiqßreuers  Verdienst 
für  die  Eritstehungsgeschichte  der  Psychoanalyse  entscheidend  ge- 
sr^hmäleri^  Der  historischen  Gerechtigkeit  halber  muß  jedoch  festge-. 
halten  werden,  daßiBreuer  in  der  Behandlung  unverzichtbar  und  auch 
nicht  zu  ersetzen  war,  denn  die  Patientin  war  nur  bereit,  ihrh  gegenüber 
zu  erzählen.  Zusammen  entwickeln  sie  eine  »therapeutisch-technische 
Prozedur«;'^,  die  von  der  Patientin  »talking  eure«  (Redekur)  bzw. 
»chimney-sweeping«  (Kaminfegen)  genannt  wird  und  die  »Anna 
O.  .  .«  schließlich  von  ihren  quellenden  Symptomen  befreit: 

:;:<  '    •  ^:  4 

Jcdes^cm^eine  ^'^r\\[non\  dxeses  verwjicVeXten  Yira^dd\e^tsh\\des  wurde  für  sich 
\}orgenomn\en;  die  sämtlichen  Anlässe,  bei  denen  es  aufgetreten  war,  in 
umgekehrter  Reihenfolge  erzähh,  beginnend  mit  den  Tagen,  bevor  Patientin 
bettlägerig  geworden,  nach  rückwärts  bis  zu  der  Veranlassung  des  erstmali- 
gen Auftretens.  War  dieses  erzählt,  so  war  cLis  SymlHom  damit  für  nn?]ier 
behoben.    :'  k-    .  \i 

So  wurden  die  Kontrakturpareisen  und  A?u'i.sf/ic5ien,  die  verschiedenen 
Seh"  und  Hörstörungen,  hleuralgie;i\,  Husten,  Zittern  u.dgl.  und  schließlich 
auch  die  Slnachstönmgen  » weger zäJüt«.  ^■■ 

Es  grenzt  schon  an  ein  Wunder,  was  Breuer  zu  berichten  weiß:  Die 
noch  vor  kurzer  Zeit  von  Halluzinationen  verfolgte!  und  von  zahlrei- 
chen  massiven  Störungen  beeinträchtigte  Kranke',  ist  allein  durchs 
Erzählen  gesund  geworden;  Breuer  als  Arzt  hat  ihr  praktisch  »den 
ganzen  Vorrat  an  Phantasmen«  abgenommen.  ^^ 

Auf  diese  Weise  schloß  auch  die  ganze  Hysterie  ab.  Die  Kranke  hatte  sich 
selbst  den  festen  Vorsatz  gebildet,  am  Jahrestag  ihrer  Trqrisferierung  auf  das 
Land  müsse  sie  mit  allem  fertig  sein.  Sie  betrieb  darurjx  anfangs  ]uni  die 
»talking  cure<r  mit  großer,  aufregender  Energie.  Am  letzten  Tage  reprodu" 


46 


30 


I.; 


*.:t 


;• 


Bertha  Pappenheim  alias  »Anna  O.  .  .« 


zierte  sie  mit  der  Nachhilfe,  daß  sie  das  Zimmer  so  arran^erte,  wie  das 
Krankenzimmer  ihres  Vaters  gewesen  war,  die  oben  erzählte  Angsthalluzina- 
tion, welche  die  Wurzel  äer  ganzen  Erkrankung  gewesen  war  und  in  der  sie 
nur  englisch  hatte  denken  imd  beten  können;  sprach  unmittelbar  darauf 
Deutsch  und  war  nunfref  von  all  den  unzähligen  einzelnen  Störungen,  die  sie 
früher  dargeboten  hatte,  pann  verließ  sie  Wien  für  eine  Reise,  brauchte  aber 
doch  noch  längere  Zeit,  bis  sie  ganz  ihr  psychisches  Gleichgewicht  gefunden 
hatte.  Seitdem  erfreut  sie  sich  vollständiger  Gesundheit.^^ 

ö     >  :•«•,■    - 

Ein  Happy-End  also,  ;;das  fast  zu  schön  ist,  um  wahr  zu  sein.  Das 
Mißtrauen,  das  sich  uiiwillkürlich  beim  Lesen  der  glatten  Darstellung 
des  Falles  durch  Breu(ir  aufdrängt,  ist  nur  zu  berechtigt,  wie  neuere 
Forschungen  zeigen."^  it^Tatsächiidb.J\:ar^leJPatiennn_,k.e  ge- 

heilt,  wie  Breuer  behauptet.  Aber  aucli  in  anderen  Punkten  ist  seine 
Falldarstellung  unvollständig  bzw.  unwahr. 

Freud  wa/der  erstejder  immanente  Widersprüche  in  der  Falldarsteh 
lung  Breuers  erkann  t,||nriit  seiner  Ivritikaber  aus  Rücksicht  auf  die 
gemeinsame  Vermientlichung  dezent  hTnterm  Berg  gehalten  hatte. 
Privat  aber  machte  en  sich  über  die  Versicherung  Breuers,  daß  das 


»sexuale  Element  (.  .  . ),  erstaunlich  unentwickelt«     sei  bei  der  Patien- , 

Tii        i  I  / 


lieber  Brief  an  seine  Verlobtd  Martha 


tin,  lustig,  vvi£^ 
Bernays  zeigt,  die  Bertl;\a  Pappenheim  übrigens  aus  gemeinsamer  Wie- 
ner Zeit  ner  kannte  unii  Interesse  an  deren  Schicksal  bekundete. ^"^  Als 
die  Beziehung  zu  Breuer  sich  lockerte  und  schließlich  in  offene  Feind- 
Schaft  überging,  distjaniierte  Freud  sich  auch  offen tlicli_von  dem  ehe- 
mals  umworbenen  Kollegen.  In  der  Darstellung  »Zur  Geschichte  der 
psychoanalytischen  Bewegung«  <fT91^  findet  sich  folgende  kritische 
Passage  zu  Breuer:        | 


'  .1 


ii 


.H 


Man  erinnert  sich,  daß  Breuer  von  seiner  berühmten  ersten  Patientin  ausge- 
sagt hatte,  das  sexuale  Element  sei  bei  ihr  erstaunlich  unentwickelt  gewesen 
und  habe  niemals  eineiv'ßeitrag  zu  ihrem  reichen  Krankheitsbildc  geliefert. 
Ich  habe  mich  immer  "^erwundert,  daß  die  Kritiker  diese  Versic/ierung 
Breuers  meiner  Behauptung  von  der  sexuellen  Ätiologie  der  Neuroseix  nicht 
öfter  entgegengestellt  hdhen,  und  weiß  noch  heute  nic/ic,  ob  ich  in  dieser 
Unterlassung  einen  Beu|is  für  ihre  Diskretion  oder  für  ihre  Unachtsamkeit 
sehen  soll.  Wer  die  Brewc|sc/ie  Krankengeschichte  im  Lichte  der  in  den  letzten 
zwanzig  Jahren  gewonnenen  Erfahrung  von  neuem  durchliest,  wird  die 
Symbolik  der  Schlangen^^des  Starrwerdens,  der  Armlähmui\g  nicht  vnßver- 


I 
I 


47 


f 


l 


5^l*r»i 


At 


»Die  eigentliche  EntJeckerin  der  Psychoanalyse«'! 


■1-  '*  ■ 


^l; 


^Ij 


i: 


Stehen  \mi  Amc]\  Einredmnngcler  Siiuaikm  am  Krankenhciic  des  Waicxs  die 
wirkliche  Deutung  jener  Symlnombildung  leicht  erraten,  Seiix  Urteil  über  die 
Rolle  der  Sexualität  im  Seelenleben  jenes  Mädchens  wird  sich  daim  von  dem 
ihrc^s  Arztes  weit  entfernen.  Breuer'lstand  zur  Herstellung  der  Kranken  der 
intensivste  suggestive  Rapport  zu  Gebote,  der  uns  gerade  als  Vorbild  dessen, 
was  wir  >^\Jbertragung«  heißen,  dienen  kann.  Ich  habe  nun  starke  Gründe 
zu  vermuten,  daß  Breuer  nach  der  Beseitigung  aller  SymlHome  die  sexuelle 
Motivierung  dieser  Übertragung  an  neuen  Anzeichen  entdecken  mußte,  daß 
ihm  aber  die  allgemeine  hlatur  dieses  unerwarteten  Phänomens  cntgnxg,  so 
daß  er  hier,  wie  von  einem  »untoward  event«  betroffen,  die  Forschwxg 

-t/r       I 

abbrach.       \ 


^ 


Dieses  »untoward  event«  hat  Freud  knapp  zwanzig  Jahre  später  - 
Breuer  war  damals  etwas  über  zehn  Jahre  tot  -  in  einem  Brief  an  Stefan 
Zweig  näher  ausgeführt: 


•liV 


Was  bei  Breuers  Patientin  wirklich -vorfiel,  war  ich  imstande,  später  lange 
nach  unserem  Bruch  zu  erraten,  als  mir  plötzlich  eine  Mitteilung  von  Breuer 
einfiel,  die  ei\  mir  eimrnil  vor  der  Zeit  unserer  gemeinsamen  Arbeit  in  cinclereni 
Zusammenhäng  gemacht  und  nie  r)\el\r^ieder}wlt  hatte.  Am  Abend  des 
Tages,  )iac/idem  alle  ihre  Symptomejiewältigt  waren,  wurde  er  wieder  zu  ihr 
gerufen,  fand  sie  verworren,  sich  iii  Unterleibskrämpfen\windend.  Auf  die 
Frage,  was  mit  ihr  sei,  gab  sie  zur  Ajntwort:  »jetzt  kommt  das  Kind,  das  ich 
vonDr.  B.  habe«.  In  diesem  Moment  hatte  er  den  Schlüssel  in  der  Hand,  der 
den  Weg  zu  den  Müttern  geöffnet  hätte,  aber  er  ließ  ihn  fallen.  Er  hatte  bei  all 
seinen  großen  Geistesgaben  nichts  Faustisches  an  sich.  In  konventionellem 
ErUsetzen  ergriff  er  die  Flucht  und  überließ  die  Kranke  einem  Kollegen.  Sie 
liämpfte  noch  monatelang  in  cinemlSanatoriimi  um  ihre  Herstelhmg. 


Ji»: 


Breuer  hat  also,  wenn  man  der  Version  Freuds  Glauboin  schenken  darf, 
und  es  besteht  kein  Anlaß,  den^^Kern  seiner  Darstellung  zu  bezwei- 
feln^^,  ^ieT^atientttfnTStTg^^ 

verlassen. \|ones  berichtet  in  seiner  Freud-Biographieivon  einer  ähnli- 
chen Situation,  die  sich  einige  Jahre  später  zugetragen  haben  soll: 

Etwa  zehn  jähre  später,  zu  einer  Zcif,  als  Freiul  mit  Breuer  Fälle  bearbeitete, 
holte  ihn  dieser  zu  ei7\er  Jvjsterisclxeri^atientin.  Bevor  sie  zii  ihr  hineingingen, 
beschrieb  er  ihm  ihre  Symptome,  worci^f  Freud  erklärte,  sie  seien  typisch  für 
eine  Schwangerschaftsphantasie.  Diese  Wiederholung  der  früheren  Situation 

48       ^         i  ■■  ; 


I 


: 


>  . 


;li 


Be r tha  Pappenheim  alias  »Anna  O. 


.  .« 


\^ ' 


|i 


war  für  Breuer  zuviel.  O/ihe  ein  Wort  zu  sagen,  naJxm  er  Stock  und  Hut  und 
verließ  schkunigsi  das  Ham.\ 

§  •■ 

So  verständlich  die  Angit  Breuers  auch  sein  mag,  so  pröhlematisch  ist 
die  Art  und  Weise,  wie  |er  diese  Angst  verdrängt  lind  aus  seiner 
Falldarstcllung  verschwinden  läßt  und  sich  selbst  als  »Wundeiheiler« 
stilisiert.  Seine  Patientiit  jedenfalls  blieb  in  tiefster  Verwirrung  zurück. 
ie  jüngst  aufgefund(i'ne  Sanatoriumsunterlagen  belegen,  brauchte 
sie  noch  Iahte,  um  sichau  stabilisieren  und  sich  von  ihrer  schweren 
Mednai'fneWcnabhängigkeit  zu  befreien.  Offenbar  hatte  sich  Breuer 
auraie>>F^3Siir<<  alleu^  nicht  verlassen,  sondern  auch  zu  hohen 


i.n  Ml  I  I-  I  .ii-pa».!.... 


Morphiumdosen  gegriffen,  sei  es,  um  die  Schmerzen  der  Patientin  zu 
lindern,  sei  es,  um  ihreri  Redefluß  zu  befördern.  Die  Krankenhaus- 
akte,  die  im  Sanatorium  Bellevue  in  Kreuzungen  aufbewahrt  wird, 
zeigt,  daß  sowohl  die  sornatischen  wie  die  psychischen  Störungen 
keineswegs  behoben  waren.  Nach  der  Erfahrung  mit  Breuer  scheint  die 
Patientin  kein  großes  Zutrauen  mehr  in  die  ärztliche  Kunst  gehabt  zu 
haben.  Der  behandelnd;^  Arzt  klagt  über  die  »unliebenswürdige  Ge- 
reiztheit«"^', die  die  Patientin  vor  allem  den  Ärzten  gegenüber  an  den 
Tag  gelegt  habe:  j»   ;.:  •.  .      . 


i 


So  beurtheilte  sie  in  abfälliger  Weise  die  Unzulänglichkeit  der  Wissenschaft 
gegenüber  ihrem  Leiden  itnd  betonte  in  bissiger  Art  die  Zwecklosigkeit  ihres 
Kuraufenthaltes  hierselbsti.  .  .)"*  j, 

I  ,.  i  '■ 

Zurück  blieb  ein  lebenslanger  Affekt  gegen  die  Psychoanalyse.  In  ihren 


43 


Heimen  verbot  sie  jedqjArt  von  psychoanalytischer  Behandlung 
Anna  Freud  erinnert  sic;h|daran,  daß  Bertha  Pappenheim  nach  Ab- 
Schluß  der  Behandlung  leitlebens  »feindselig  zur  Analyse«  gestanden 
habe."*"*  Von  Bertha  Pappenheim  selbst  ist  eine  Äußerung  überliefert, 
die  ihre  tiefe  Ambivalent  gegenüber  der  erfahrenen  Behandlung  verrät: 

Psychoanalyse  ist  in  der  Hand  des  Arztes,  was  die  Beichte  in  der  Hand  des 
katholischen  Geistlichen  ist;  es  hängt  von  dem  Anwender  und  der  Anu^en- 
düng  ab,  ob  sie  ein  gutes  Instrument  oder  ein  z'^eischneidiges  Schwert  ist. 


Der  abrupte  Abbruch  dü|  Behandlung  scheint  aber  weniger  schädlich 

gew'esen  zu  sein,  als'n^ch  der  Behandlungs^eschiciite  zu  erwarT^n 

gewesen  wäre.  Die  Trennung  von  Breuer  scheint  die  Kräfte  der  Patien- 

1 

e  .     •  ,       ■  ■ 

i  49 


'; 


»Die  eigentliche  !:iuclcckeiin  der  I\sychoanalyse«? 


Iktthii  l'appcnliciin  (1882) 


50 


f 


i  Bertha  Pappenheim  alias  »Anna  O.  .  .« 


tin  mobilisiert  zti  haben:  Sie  schmiedete  Zukunftspläne,  was  der  behan- 
delnde Arzt  freilich  als  »fehlende  Hinsicht«  in  die  Schwere  ihres 
Krankheitsztistandes  bewertete:  ;  - 

Die  feJxlcndc  Einsicht  in  die  Schwere  ihres  Status  ncrvosus  verrieth  sie  in  ihrer 
Projccteiiinacherei.  So  beschiijtigte  sie  ihr  Vorhaben,  sich  der  praktischen 
Kranke  ul)^lle^  zu  leiclmcn  und  ^iicar  baldmögdc/ust,  wochenlang  (...) 

* 

i 

Diese  »Proiectennuicherei«,  von  der  der  Arzt  so  abfällig  spricht,  ist  für 
die  Patientin  h()chst\vahrscheinlich  lebensrettend  gewesen.  Gegen  die 
Ärzte  und  gegen  elie  Pamilie  setzte  sie  es  durch,  daß  sie  noch  während 
ihrer  klinischen  Behandlung  eine  Krankenpflegeschule  besuchen 
durfte.  Sic  erkämi^fte  sich  damit  ein  Stück  Selbständigkeit,  freilich  auf 
einen-i  Gebiet,  das  traditionell  als  weibliche  Domäne  galt.  Es  zeigte  sich 
jedoch  alsbald,  daß  sie  die  (jrenzen  pflegerischcr  Arheit^Nveit  hinter 
sfcTuasscTTsotlte,  daß  sie  die  Krankenpflege  nicht  als  unverhindlichen 
ZcitvcM  treib  einer  höherenTochter  betreiben  wollte,  sondern  als  ernst- 
hafte  Berufstätigkeit  plante.  '<' 

Woher  kam  diese  Hntschlossenheit,  und  woher  nahm  die  Patientin 
die  Kraft?  Wie  konnte  iius  der  »beklagenswerten  Patientin  Anna 
O.  .  .«  die  »imponie_n^nde  Gestalt  der  Bertha  Pappenheini«  werdenr^ 
Gibt  CS  einen &7sammenhanii  zwischen  dieser  erstaunlichen  Entwick- 
kmg  und  der  Behandlung  hei  Breuer?  Was  hat  sich  während  eler 
Bebaiullung  bei  Breuer  eigentlich  in  Wahrlieit  abgespielt?  Was  sind  die 
wirklichen  Ursachen  für  die  vielfältigen  Krankheitssyn\ptome  der  Ber- 
tha rappenliei^m?  Hat  Breuer  seine  Patientin  letzten  Endes  docli  ge- 
hcilt'^'"^,  hat  IVMtha  Pappenheim  sich  selbst  geheilt  und  sich  ihre  Gesun- 
dung gegen  die  Psychoanalyse  erkämpft,  oder  sind  die  späteren  Aktivi- 
täten ntir  eine  Fortsetzung  der  Krankengeschichte  der  »Anna  O.  .  .« 
auf  einer  anderen  Ebene?  Fragen  über  Fragen,  auf  die  es  k^ne  sichere 
Arawort  gibt.  ^, 

DieTrankengeschichte;'  die\Bretier  crzj^ihlt,  ist  so  sehr  »verändert, 
geglättet  und  geschönt«"^^.;  daß  es  im  nachhinein  unmöglich  ist,  dj_e 
»wahre  Krankengeschiclue«jii^  r_ekonstruieren.  Auch  neuere  biogra- 
phische Arbeiten  können  insbesondere  das  tj^n^      Jas  iihejj^^ 
u ncl  J u ge nTTkj t]jjTcht_a^^  Es  ist  clelTia^lb  auch  fahrlässig, 

Vern^utungen  darüber  anzustellen,  wie  intim  die  Beziehung  zwischen 
Breuer  luid  Bertha  Pappenheim  gewesen  sei  und  ob  Bertha  Pappen- 
heim nicht  zusätzlich  noch  eine  traumatische  sexuelle  Erfahrung  am 

■    I 


51 


■m^ 


ym 


m.. 


i^ 


f/^i^f^ 


W' 


»Die  eigentliche  Entdeckerin  der  Psychoanalyse«?  '^\ 


Hertha  Pappenheim  (1882) 


\ 


50 


Hertha  Pappenheim  alias  »Anna  0.  .  .« 


tin  mobilisiert  zu  haben:  Sie  schmiedete  Zukunftspläne,  was  der  behan- 
delnde Arzt  freilich  als  >>fehlende  Einsicht«  in  die  Schwere  ihres 
Krankheitszustandes  beweftete:  •       j  '  - 


t 


Die  fehlende  Einsicht  in  die  Schwere  ihres  Status  nervosus  verrieth  sie  in  ihrer 
Projectenmacherei.  So  beschäftigte  sie  ihr  Vorhaben,  sich  der  praktischen 
Kranf<enl)ßege  zit  widmen  und  z'^t'ar  haldmöghchst,  ivochenlang  (...) 

h      ■      - 

Diese  »Projectenmacherei«,  von  der  der  Arzt  so  abfällig  spricht,  ist  für 
die  Patientin  höchstwahrscheinlich  lebensrettend  gewesen.  Gegen  die 
Ärzte  und  gegen  die  Familie  setzte  sie  es  durch,  daß  sie  noch  während 
ihrer  klinischen  Behandlung  eine  Krankenpflegeschule  besuchen 
durfte.  Sie  erkämpfte  sich  clamit  ein  Stück  Selbständigkeit,  freilich  auf 
eineni  Gebiet,  das  traditionell  als  weibliche  Domäne  galt.  Eszeigtesich 
jedoch  alsbald,  daß  sie  die  Grenzen  pflegerischer  Arbeit  weit  hinter 
sfcliilassensollte,  daß  sie  die  Krankenpflege  nicht  als  unverbindlichen 
Zeitvertreib  einer  höherenlTochter  betreiben  wollte,  sondern  als  ernst- 
hafte  Berufstätigkeit  plante. !  ^  "  ; 

Woher  kam  diese  Entschlossenheit,  und  woher  nahm  die  Patientin 
die  Kraft?  Wie  konnte  aus  der  »beklagenswerten  Patientin  Anna 
O.  .  .«  die  »imponier^ndeGestalt  der  Bertha  Pappenheim«  werdenT 
Gibt  es  einen ^iisammenhanj]!  zwischen  dieser  erstaunlichen  Entwick- 
lung und  der  Behandlung;  bei  Breuer?  Was  hat  sich  während  der 
Behandlung  bei  Breuer  eigentlich  in  Wahrheit  abgespielt?  Was  sind  die 
wirklichen  Ursachen  für  die  vielfältigen  Krankheitssymptome  der  Ber- 
tha  Pappenheim?  Hat  Breuer  seine  Patientin  letzten  Endes  doch  ge- 
heilt"*^, hat  Bertha  Pappenheim  sich  selbst  geheilt  und  sich  ihre  Gesun- 
dung gegen  die  Psychoanalyse  erkämpft,  oder  sind  die  späteren  Aktivi- 
täten nur  eine  Fortsetzung  der  Krankengeschichte  der  »Anna  O.  .  .« 
auf  einer  anderen  Ebene?  fragen  über  Fragen,  auf  die  es  kdne  sichere 

Antwort  gibt.  1     '  !' 

Die^rankengeschichte|  die^euer  erzählt,  ist  so  sehr  »verändert, 
geglättet  und  geschönt«'*^i  daß  es  im  nachhinein  urimöghch  ist,  die 
»wahre  Krankengeschichte«  zu  rekonstruieren.  Auch  neuere  biogra- 
phische Arbeiten  können  jjrisbesondere  dasPunkel,  das  übeTKlhdhelt 
und  Jugend  liegt,_jiIchLii^^  Es  ist  deshalb  auch  fahrlässig, 

Vermutungen  darüber  anzustellen,  wie  intim  die  Beziehung  zwischen 
Breuer  und  Bertha  Pappehheim  gewesen  sei  und  ob  Bertha  Pappen- 
heim nicht  zusätzlich  noch  eine  traumatische  sexuelle  Erfahrung  am 


51 


*■;<% 


»Die  eigentliche  Entdcckcrin  der  Psychoanalyse«? 


ii 

•'S 

l 


;i 


.'Di 


.i 


Krankenbett  des  Vaters  gemacht  Habe.  Für  all  solche  Spekulationen  ist 
die  Quellenlage  viel  zu  schmal  urid  ungesichert. 


Deutlich  jaber  ist,  daß  »Anna  Ö.  . .«  einq:"r^jckt  nnsfigur)ist  und 
daß  zumindest  in  der  Phantasic\Breuers  das  »sexuelle  Moment«  keines- 


vveizs'so  unbedeutend  warTwIe  er/als  Arzt  den  Anscliein  zu  erwecken 
s^uclitTDie  Namensvvahl  »Anna  0-  . .«,  über  deren  Hmtergrunde  oft 
spekuliert  worden  ist^^  hat  eine  verdeckte  sexuelle  Bedeutung,  die  aus 
,der  Literatur  hekannt  ist.  So  spieltjjCleist  mit  seinem  Titel  »Die 
Marquise  von  O.  .  .«  ebenso  mit  den  frivolen  Assoziationen  des 
ScJM-iftzeichens  O,  wie  dies  der  pornogmphische  Roman  »Die  Ge- 
schichte  der  O. .  .«  tut.  Das  Pseudonym  »Anna  O.  .'.«,  gewählt,  um 
die  Identität  der  Patientin  zu  verhüllen,  enthüllt  unfrei wilhg  den  Arzt 
und  seine  Phantasien  über  Weihlichkeit,  die  große  Ähnlichkeit  mit 
denen  haben,  die  hreud  iTTseinem  »Traum  von  Irmas  Injektion« 
ausagiert,  und  die  im  übrigen  zum  ürundbestand  der  kollektiven  Phan^ 
tasien  über  Weiblichkeit  gehören,  ^ie  in  patriarchalischen  Uesell- 
schalten  kursieren.  '  ^, 


•^ 


<» 


:.i 


r 


.•'! 


)\ 


% 


■:  f 


./ 


52 


*j 


i 


i 

.JL. 


Bertha  Pappenheim  alias  »Anna  O.  .  .« 


0 

s  • 

"S 


Kampfobjekt  im  Rivalitätsstreit 
zwischen  Freud  und  Breuer 


-ü 

V 

I*: 


Es  erstaunt  deshalb  nicht,  daß  Freud  sofort  ein  lebhaftes  Interesse  für 
die  Krankengeschichte  ifynna  O.  .  .s  entwickelte.  Bereits  bevor  er  im 
Jahre  1885  zu  Charcot^^j.nach  Paris  ging,  um  sich  vor  Ort  mit  dessen 
Hysterieforschung  auseinanderzusetzen,  hatten  ihn  Breuers  Erzählun- 
gen  über  Bertha  Pappenheim  fasziniert:  , 

Breuer  hatte  mir,  schon  e/ilic/i  nach  Paris  ging,  Mitteilungen  über  einen  Fall 
vonHysterie  gemacht,  den  er  in  den  Jahren  1880  bis  1882  auf  eine  besondere 
Art  behandelt,  wobei  er  tiefe  Einblicke  in  die  Verursachung  und  Bedeutung 
der  hysterischen  Syml)tome  geii'innen  konnte.  (...)  Er  las  mir  unederhQk 
Stücke  der  Krankei}ßes^ichtevor,  von  denen  ich  den  Eindruck  empfing,  hier 
sei  mehr  für  das  Verständnis  der  hJeurose  geleistet  ii;ordcn  als  je  zuvor.  ^^ 


Josef  Breuer  und  seine  Frau  Mathilde 


53 


JH-T^I 


^.«^ 


K' 


i:'' 


4 


i 

'r 


( 


:! 


f.? 


»Die  eigentliche  Entdeckcrln  der  Psychoanalyse«     __ 

Im  Gegensatz  zu  Breuer  nimmt  Freud  diesen  Fall  sofort  als  Beweisstück 
für  die  Rieht ii/keit  seiner  Theorie  über  die  sexuell^^n  Ursachen  der 
sogenannten  hysterischen  Phänomene.  In  seiner  stilisierenden 
'  »Selbstdarstellung«  von  1925  f^ßt  Freud  die  Differenzen  zwischen 
Breut;r  und  sich  in  der  Beurteilung  des  »Falls«  folgendermaßen  zusam- 

!■     ■ 

Ais  ich  in  den  nächsten  Jahren  nach  den  »Studien<^  diese  Ansichten  über  die 
ätiologische  Rolle  der  Sexualität  beiden  Neurosen  geuvniien  hatte,  hielt  ich 
über  sie  einige  Vorträge  in  ärztlichen  Vereinen,  fand  aber  mir  Unglauben  und 
Widcrspruch.lBreuer  versuchte  noch  einige  Male,  das  große  Gewicht  seines 
persönlichen  Ansehens  zu  meinen  Gunsten  in  die  Wagschäle  zu  werfen,  aber 
er  erreichte  nichts,  und  es  war  leicht  zu  sehen,  daß  tue ;  Anerkennung  der 
sexuellen  Ätiologie  auch  gegen  seine  hJeigungen  ging.  Er  hätte  mich  durch  den 
Hinweis  auf  seine  eigene  erste  Patientin  schlagen  oder  irre  machen  können, 
bei  der  sexuelle  Momente  angeblich  gar  keine  Rolle  gespielt  hatten.  Er  tat  es 
aber  nie;  ich  verstand  es  lange  nicht,  bis  ich  gelernt  hatte,  mir  diesen  Eall 
richtig  zu  deuten  und  nach  einigen  früheren  BemcWcunge?!  von  ihn  den 
Ausgang  seiner  Be/uinci(ung  zu  rekonstruieren.  Nachdem  diej<aü\artische 
Arbeit  erledigt  schien,  hatte  sich  bei  dem  Mädchen  plötzlich  ein  Zustand  von 
»ÜbertragungWiebe«  eingestTlltTden  er  nicht  rfiehr  mit  ihreml<.ranhein  in 
Beziehung  brachte,  so  daß  er  sich  bestürzt  von  ihr  zurückzog.  Es  war  ihm 
offenbar  peinlich,  an  dieses  anscheinende  Mißgeschick  erinnert  zu  icerden. 
Im  Benehmen  gegen  mich  schwankte  er  eine  Weile  ^tt'isq/ien  Anerkennung 
und  herber  Kritik,  dann  traten  Zufälligkeiten  hinzu,  wi6  sie  in  gespannten 
Situationen  7iienia/5  ausbleiben,  und  wir  trennten  uns  voneinander. 


/ 


/ 


)- 


Der  »Fall  Anna  O.  .  .«  wird  voii|  Freud  im  nachherein  zum  Prüfstein 
einer  gescheiterten  Freundschaft  gemacht.  Daß  es  dabei  nicht  nur  um 
die  richtige  wissenschaftliche  Diagnose  ging,  sondern  auch  um  die 
Konkurrenz  zwischen  zwei  Männern,  zeigt  die  abfällige  Bemerkung 
über  Breuer,  die  Freud^^egenubcr  seiner  Verlobten;  Martha  Bernays 
bereits  1883  gemacht  hat.  Als  diese  die  Furcht  äußerte,  daß  sich  auch 
:  zwischen  Freud  und  seinen  Patientinnen  die  Beziehungen  so  entwik- 
kein  könnten,  daß  sie  wie  Breuers  Frau  Mathilde  Grund  zur  Eifersucht 
haben  könne,  beruhigt  Freud  seihe  Verlobte  mit  dem;  für  Breuer  wenig 
schmeichelhaften  Satz:  »Um  Schicksale  zu  haben  wje  Frau  Mathilde, 
muß  man  die  Frau  eines  Breuer  söin.«^^  Breuer  war  sensibel  genug,  um 
die  Ablehnung  und  die  Konkurrenz  seines  jüngeren. Kollegen  zu  spü- 

V  ^    '  •   vi        . 


.\ 


\  •• 


54 


» ■ 


tf 


f'l 


'  I    •  Bertha  Pappenheim  alias  »Anna  O.  . .« 

— — — ^— — — ^^— —  ■';■  ,  I 

■i        . 

ren.  Wiederholt  hat  ersieh  darüber  beklagt,  daß  er  von  Freud  »mehr 
oder  weniger  ausgeschejltet  und  links  liegengelassen  worden«  sei, 
nachdem  die  gemeinsame  Publikation  erschienen  war. 

Wie  recht  er  mit  difeser  Vermutung  hatte,  zeigen  die  erst  1985 
vollständig  veröffentlichten  Briefe,  die  Freud  an t Wilhelm  Fließ  zwi- 
schen 1887  und  19041schrieb:  Gegen  Ende  deriSöer"jahre  wurde 


Breuer,  der  »Freund  uiTijd  Helfer  in  schwierigen  Lebenslagen«  ,  von 
dessen  hohem  Ansehen  Freud  als  aufstrebender  junger  Wissenschaftler 
profitiert  hatte,  durch  Wilhelm  Fließ  ersetztl^^ 

Es  geht  hier  nicht  um  eine  kritische  Auseinandersetzung  mit  der 
problematischen  Verquickung  von  Freundschaften  und  Karrierepla- 
nung  in  Freuds  Biographie,  sondern  um  den  Status  der  Patientinnen  im 
Konkurrenzkampf  der  Männer.  Es  kann  kein  Zufall  sein,  daß  sowohl  in 
der  Freundschalt  zu^rcuer  und\F[ieß  als  auch  später  in  der  zu^ung  die 
Machtkämpfe  immer  über  Frauen  abgewickelt  worden  sind.  Als  Pa- 
tientinnen  bilden\^Bertha  Pappenheim\^  Emma  Eckstein  unciySabina 
Spielrein  eine  geheime  Reihe  m  der  Gründungsgeschichte  der  Psycho- 
analvse.  Sie  sind  das  umkämpfte  Terrain,  auf  dem  sich  die  Männer  mit 
ihren  Deutungen  über  Weiblichkeit  und  Sexualität  zu  beweisen  haben, 
sie  sind  das  »MateriaU,  aus  dem  die  Theorieri  über  den  Zusammenhang 
zwischen  Sexualität  und  Hysterie  entwickelt  werden.  Und  sie  sind  das 
»Material«,  aus  dem  sich  die  Träume  der  Dichter  speisen.  So  trägt  die 
»Elektra«  von'TIugo  vo^  Hojmannsthal  Züge  der  »Anna  O. .  . «  ,  und 
[StefarLZ\veig  wird  für  seine  Arbeit  an  dem  Buch  »Die  Heilung  durch 
den  Geist«^^  von  »Aniia  O. .  .«  inspiriert.  Wie  aber  kann  aus  einem 
Objekt  männlicher  Deutungskunst  und  Projektionsarbeit  ein  Subjekt 


\ve 


rden? 


•..)• 


r.v. 


55 


t 


*f, 


'iV 


»Die  eigentliche  Entdeckerin  der  PsycKhanalyse«?   '' 

»Hure  in  der  Phantasie«  und  »Helferin  der  Meiiscliheit« 


vi 

Die  zwei  Seiten  der  Bertha  Pappenlieim 

4 


'^ 

n 


m! 


•:\'   . 


Der  1  ehensweg' Bertha  PappenheiniS  nacli  dem  Abbruch  der  BehancU 
Umg  durch  Breuer  zeigt,  clab  das  nicht  cintach  gewesen" ist.  Zunächst 
einmal  muß  sie  sich  einen  rieuen  Namen  zulegen  und  siclVaamit 
"cleuttich  von  dem  Namen  abgrenzen,  den  ihr  Breuer -als  Patientin 
gegeben  hat.  Das  Pseudonym  »P.  Berthold«,  unter  dem  sie  ab  1890 
publiziert,  ist  nicht  geschlcchtsneutial,  sondern  eine  miinnlicheTaS' 
sung  ihres  eigenen  Namens  Bertha. •■Unter  diesem  Pseudonym  hat  sie 
iv'j-W'  u.  a.  1899  ihr  sozialkritisches  Schauspiel  »Frauenrecht«  und  die  Über- 
setzung von  Mary  WoUstonecrafts.  »Verteidigung  der  Rechte  der 
Frauen«  veröffentlicht.  Erst  ab  1900  publizierte  sie  unter  ihrem  Namen 
Bertha  Pappenheim.  Die  frühen  poh tischen  Schriften  haben  ein  ge- 
meinsames Thema:  die  Unterdrückung  und  die  sexuelle  Ausbeutung 
der  Frau  durch  gewissenlose  Männei.  Sie  sind  Anklagen  und  Befrei- 
ungsschriften zugleich.  Bertha  Pappepheim  setzt  hier  auf  einer  anderen 
Ebene  fort,  was  sie  mit  ihrem  »Privattheater«  in  der  »Redeki.ix<jLici 
Breuei^und  in   ihren  frühen,  bei letrjstjschen_Aiii^^^  hegojaaca 

hnrxf  _Oip  politischen  Texte  sind  ;;ein  Versuch,  die  traumatischen 
Erfahrungen  literarisch  zu  verarbeitet,  und  sie  eröffnen  der  Verfasserin 
zugleich  dieTvföIjlichkeit,  die  eigenen  Erlebnisse  in  einen  historischen 
Kontext  zu  stellen.  Die  Schrift  von jMary  Wc)llstonecraft,  die  bereits 
lUÜ  lahre  vorher  dTe  Unterdrückung  der  Frau  zum  Thema  gemacht 
hatte,  hat  dabei  eine  sicherlich  nicht  zu  unterschätzende  Bedeutung  für 
die  Selbstfindung  von  Bertha  Pappenheim  gehabt.         ij 

AberaucFTin  den  späteren  Veröffentlichungen  nacli'der  Jahrhun- 
dertwende ist  der  Bezuß  auf  die  ursprüngliche  Krankengeschichte  un- 
verkennbar.  Der  leidenschaftliche  Ka»liELi£R£|^  den  »Mädchenhan- 
del« und  die  organisatorische  und  piiblizistische  TätTgToeTHm  »gefal- 
le ricMäd  che  n<<  und  »uneheliche  Kinder«  spitzt  nur  das  zu,  was  sich 
bereits  vor  der  JahrhunderT^X^'drirtrGnmdthema  abgezeichnet  hat: 
die  universelle  Unterdrückung  und  Ausbeutung  der  Frau  im  natriar- 
chalischeh  System.  g  '% 

Hat  Bertha  feppenheim  damit  das  geschafft,  was  Fr»^ud  als  Erfolg 
einer  Analyse  alisah,  nämlich  daß  der  Kranke  lernen  soUö,  sein  »hyste- 
risches  Elend  in  gemeines  Unglück  zü  verwandeln«?  ja  und  Nein.  Ja, 
weil  sie  erkannt  hat,  daß  -  wie  sie  eine  ihrer  Figuren  sagen  läßt  -  ihr 


56 


V. 


N; 


I 


r 

■«■• 


?■    :      Bertha  Pappenheim  alias  »Anna  O.  ■  ■« 

eigenes  Unglück  »nur  ein  kleiner  Teil  des  großen  Elends«  war,  sich 
mit  dieser  Erkenntnis  aber  nicht  begnügt,  sondern  daraus  kämpferische 
Konsequenzen  für  ihr  Handeln  gezogen  hat.  Nein,  weil  sie  in  ihrer 
kämpferischen  Haltung  gegen  die  »jüdischen  Mädchenhändler«  -  in 
einer  Zeit  des  offen  herrschenden  Antisemitismus  -  das  Augenmaß  zu 
verlTeren  drohte  und  weil-  ihre  Fürsorge  für  die  Prostituierten  von 
extremer  Sexualfeindschaft  einerseits  und  penetranter  Glorifizierung 
derTvIutterscliaft  andererseits  geprägt  war.  Mit  dieser  opaltung  der 
Frauen  in  »Hure«  und  »Heilige«  aber  reproduzierte  nertna  rappen- 
heim  genau  die  traditionellen  Bilder  von  "WcIblTclikeit,  denen  sie 
selbst  -  zuerst  als  Patientinj  später  alsFrauenrechtlerin  -  zu  entkom- 
men suchte. 


I 


'•hI.K.*^  I  ^-T  ■■■.  i-      .1    . 


\ 


1  ]v.;- 

..'»1    •',  '  i 


Bertiiä  Pappenheim  um  1907 

'•'it.  ." 

1         • 

Es  gibt  eine<gelieime  Kontipuita)des  Rebellentums  im  Leben  Bertha 
Pappenheims^  Als  »schlimifie«  Patientin  verstieß  sie  dabei  noch  ekla- 
tanter gegen  die  traditionellen  Bilder  von  Weiblichkeit  wie  später  als 
»philantropische«  Frauenrechtlerin.  Ihr  Rebellentum  trägt  ambiva- 
lente Züge.  In  bedrückendlr  Weise  spiegelt  es  den  enormen_Druck, 
»höhere  Tochter^wie  Bertha  Pappenheim  in  der  damaligen 


1»  Kl 


i'i 


I 


dem  eine 


U{ 


Co. 


7!-i  TT- 


iii 


»Die  eieentliche  Entdeckerin  der  Psychoanalyse«? 

\ 2^— ' — l-r — -— b- 


\ 


VI 

■.:! 


Gesellschaft  ausgesetzt  war.  ZugleicHlläßt  es  in  beeindruckender  Weise 
-  in  der^erotesken  Verzerrung  durchldie  Krankheit  ebenso  wie  in  der 
extremen  Anspannung  des  sozialpolitischen  Engagements  -  die 
enorme  Kraft  erkennen,  mit  der  Bertha  Pappenlieim  gegen  die  Ver- 
hältnTsse  rebellierte.  In  ihrem  Rebellentum  wird  sie  -  ohne  daß  ihr  dies 

>>i»iwii    ■  i     »-  1.  ••  111/- 

selbst  bewußt  gewesen  sein  dürfte  -  iihmer  wieder  von  der  Gesellschaft 
und  deren  Normen  und  WciblichkeusvorsteUungen  cingefioTtTTn  ih- 
rennnteresse  für  die  »gefallenen  Madclien«,  dassiebis  mdie  bordelle 
des  Osmanischen  Reiches  führte,  lassen  sich  unschvver  dje  »scliljm' 
men«  Seiten  wiedererkennen,  die  sie  seihst  in  ihrer  Krankheit  aus- 
agiert  hatte,  und  in  der  Sorge  uinclie  »unehehchen  Kinder«  findet  die 
afte^Sclvwmigersc^^^  eine    gesellschafdich    legitimierte 

Form.        -        ;.  ■  ii 

Als  »Hure  in  der  Phantasie«  hatyaicy  Frceman  in  ihrer  romanhaften 
Biographie  Bertha  Pappenheim  bezeichnet  und  damit  auf  Parallelität 
ten  der  Patientin  »Anna  O. ..«  und  der  späteren  »Helferin  der 
Menschheit«  aufmerksam  gemacht:  I 


Ui":  .< 


ix 

V» 
iil 


ii 


Ihre  bewußten  Motive  waren  edel.  Aber  wie' steht  es  mit  den  iinbcwußtenl 
Warum  richtete  sie  ihr  Leben  so  ein,  \daß  sie  es  immer  mit  verlassenen, 
unverheirateten  Aind  schwangeren  Mädchen  zu  tun  hatte!  Bis  zu  ihrem 
Todestag  hielt  sie  den  Blick  unverwandt  auf  die  endlose  Prozession  junger 
unverheirateter,  schwangerer  Mädchen  gerichtet,  jene  Opfer  männlicher 
Begierde  und  des  eigenen  unbeherrschten  Sexualtriebs.  Und  das  Ergebnis 
dieses  Zusammenwirkens  war  die  Gebmt  eines  Kindes,  das  Bertha  Pappen- 
heim  herzen  und  küssen  konnte,  als  wäre  es  -  wenigstens  für  einen  Augen- 
blick -  ihr  eigenes.  (...)  Bertha  Pappenheim  verbrachte  ihr. Leben  damit, 
Frauen  zu  retten,  die  das  taten,  was  sie  nicht  zn  tun  wagtä  -  die  Huren 
wurden,  ihre  sexuellen  Wünsche  zur  Schau  trugen  und  sich  schwängern 
ließen.^^ 


Man  muß  einersolchen  psychologisi^renden  Deutung  nicht  bis  in  alle 
Einzelheiten  folgen,  der  Kern  der  Beobachtuniz  aberTst  richtig:  Bertha 
Pappehheim  schuf  sich  sowohl  in  der  Literatur  wie  in  der  politischen 
Arbeit  Bereiche,  in  denen  die  traumatischen  Erlebnisse  ihrer  lugen^^h 
zeit  erst  einmal  »wee;erzählt<<  und  »we^frearbpirpt«  werden  konnten^ 
um  dann  letztlich  als  Verdrängtes  in  den  Texten  und  der  Arbeit  wieder: 
aufzuerstehen. -Ob  diese  traumatischen  Erfahrungen,  die  sie  zu  einer 
einsamen,  asketischen  und  depressiven  Frau  machten,  auf  eigenes 


58 


■J-' 
Vi 

.V 

■{, 

v: 


f 


Bertha  Pappenheim  alias  »Anna  O. . .« 


1f 

unterdrücktes  sexuelles  Begehren  zurückgehen,  wie  Freeman  mut- 
maßt^^,  oder  nicht  vielmehr  erlittene  sexuelle  Gewalt  spiegeln,  wie 
[Grunenherg      meint,  muß||unentschieden  bleiben.  Wahrscheinlich 
liegt  die  Wahrhejxin  der  Mitte.  -1  ; 

Auch  auf  di^rage^wie  die  politische  Tätigkeit  von  Bertha  Pappen- 
heim  einzuschätzen  ist,  alsjimponieTerKle^Eeistung  ,  als  problemati- 
sches Helfersyndrom^^  oder.als  paranoid  gefärbter  Verfolgungswahn  ^, 
gibt  es  keine  eindeutige  Antwort.  Auf  einfache  Formeln  läßt  sich  ihr 
Leben  nicht  bringen.  Eines  aber  ist  sicher:  Bertha  Pappenheim  blieb 
ihr  Leben  lang  an  »Anna  O, .  .«  gefesselt. 


.'  f  '.-'fit  r:  ,'r  • 


i 


Bertha  Pappenheim.  Nach  c(ner  Zeichnung  von  Joseph  Oppenheim,  1934 

i  .         : 

Ihre  Anstrengungen,  sich  aus  dieser  Fesselung  zu  befreien,  erinnern  an 
die  vergeblichen  Bemühungen  von  Sisyphus,  den  sie  selbst  als  mytho- 
logischen  Bezugspunkt  für  il^re  Arbeit  zitiert. ^^  Im  Gegensatz  zu  Sisy- 
phus aber  hat  Bertha  Pappenheim  ihre  Fesselung  nicht  als  unentrinn- 
bares Schicksal  begriffen,  sondern  die  gesellschaftlichen  Ursachen  sehr 
klar  erkannt,  wie  folgende  ironische  »Üenkzetcei«'"  zeigen: 


I 

.1.' 


59 


•i'-.J 


11 


»Die  eigentliche  Entdeckerin  der  Psychoanalyse«?  'i 


y 


jt 


^ 


Liebe  Töc/iter!  ?? 

Wenn  ic/i  mir  eine  Bibelkritik  erlauben  dürfte,  würde  ich' sagen,  daß  aus 
der  ungerechten  Stellung,  die  die  Bibel  der  Frau  zuweist,  klarlxervorgeht,  daß 
sie  die  Niederschrift  eines  genialen,  aber  männlichen  Menschen  ist  und  nicht 
ein  göt\\\c\\es  Diktat,  d.  /i.  die  logischä  notwendige  Folge  des  gottgewollten 
Unterschiedes  der  Geschlechter. 


:i< 


I 


Wenn  es  eine  Gerechtigkeit  im  Jenseits  gibt,  werden  drüben  die  Frauen  die 
Gesetze  machen  und  die  Männer  die  Kinder  kriegen.  Ob  dann  der  heilige 
Petrus  »beamtet«  bleibt!!  t  i 


,*• 


1 


Auf  die  Gerechtigkeit  im  Jenseits'  hat  Bei tha  Pappeiiheim  freiHch 
nicht  warten  wollen.  Sie  hat  alle  ihre  Kraft  dafür  eingesetzt,  daß  sich 
bereits  im  Diesseits  die  Verhältnisse  wenigstens  schon  ein  bißchen 
ändern.  Sie  ist  zur  Frauenrechtlerin  geworden,  weil  ihr  Lebensweg  sie 
empfindlich  für  die  Ungerechtigkeit  der  Geschlechteroixlnung  und  für 
Unterdrückung  durch  Männer  gemacht  hat.  Im  September  1919  no- 
tierte sie:        /l  $ 

Die  K4änner  sind  so  eitel  \md  durch  Generationen  in  der  Beurteilung  ihrer 
selbst  so  verwöhnt,  daß  einer  die  sachliche  Kritik  einer  Frau,  an  seinem  Tun 
und  Verhalten  nur  als  allgemeine  »Männerfeindlichkeit«  empfindet. 

■  Die  Frauen  dagegen  haben  so  wenig  Selbstsicherheit,  daß  sie  glauben,  »der 
Mann«  sei  immer  Stütze,  Helfer  imd  Retter,  auch  wenn  er  im  Einzelfall  als 
Persönlichkeit  cj'icicnC  minderwertig  und  für  eine  gegebene  Sache  unbrauch- 
bar ist.'^^       '■}.  k 

■      ;-i   .  ■       ■ 

f     ::  ;it-  i,  '     ^ 

Auch  wenn  sich  aus  einem  solchen  Statement  kein  direkter  Seitenhieb 
auf  Breuer  oder  Freud  und  die  psychbanalytische  Behandlung  erschlie- 
Ben  läßt,  so  zeigt  es  doch,  claI5  Bertha  Pappenheim  aus  ihren  Erfahrun- 
gen  Konsequenzen  gezogen  hat,  die;ln  ihrer  femimstischen  Zuspitzung 
sicherlich  weder  Breuer  noch  Freud;ent2ückt  hätten./   . 


i4 


;.l 
U 


t 


2? 

I 
I 


60 


Irma  -  Emma  -  Dora 


3.  Die  ersten  Patientinnen 


1»: 

IRMA  -  EMMA  4  DORA 

f 

Irma—  ]^    , 

Der  Traum  des  Analytikers 


^:' 


Die  Geburtsstunde  und  der  Geburtsort  der  Psychoanalyse  lassen  sich 
ziemlich  genau  bestimmen;  In  der  Nacht  vom  23.  auf  den  24.  Juli  1895 
hatte  der  damals  39jährige  Privatdozent  für  Nervenkrankheiten  Sig- 
mund Freud  während  des  Sommerurlaubs  auf  Schloß  Bellevue  in  der 
Nähe  von  Wien  einen  Traum,  den  er  knapp  fünf  jähre  später  in  einem 
Brief  an  seinen  Freund  Wilhelm  Fließ  zum  Initialtraum  für  die  Entste- 
hung der  Psychoanalyse  erklärte.  Nicht  ohne  Koketterie  fragte  er  den 
Freund: 


I 


Glaubst  du  eigentlich,  daß  an  dem  Hause  dereinst  auf  einer  Marmortafel  zu 

lesen  sein  wird:  ?  4  '  ■ 

»Hier  enthiülte  sich  am  24.  JuU  1895 

dem  Dr.  Sign\.  Freud  das  Geheimnis  des  Traumes. « 


Dieser  Traum,  der  nach  Freuds  Aussage  der  »erste  ist,  den  er  einer 
eingehenden  Deutung«^  unterzog,  ist  der  »Traum  von  Irmas  Injek-  _ 
tion«.  Freud  hat  ihn  anl^zentraler  Stelle  in  seine  »Traumdeutung«  ' 
(1900)  aufgenommen,  uni  daran  seine  »Methode«  zu  demonstrieren. 
Dieser  Traum  -  eigentlich  ein  Alptraum  -  ist  ein  Schlüsseltext  über  die 
Beziehung  zwischen  Arzt  und  Patientin,  über  das  Verhältnis  zwischen 
den  Geschlechtern  und  über  das  Verständnis  von  Weiblichkeit  in  der 
Frühgeschichte  der  psychoanalytischen  Bewegung.  Freud  faßte  den 
Traum  folgendermaßen  zusammen: 


r, 


Eine  große  Halle  -viele  Gäste,  die  wir  empfangen.  -  Unter  ihnen  Irma,  die 
ich  sofort  beiseite  nehme,  tum  gleichsam  ihren  Brief  zu  beantworten,  ihr 
Vorwürfe  zu  machen,  daß  5|e  die  »Lösung«  noch  nicht  akzeptiert.  Ich  sage 
ihr:  Wenn  du  noch  Schmerzen  hast,  so  ist  es  wirklich  nur  deine  Schuld.  -  Sie 
antwortet:  Wenn  du  wüßtest,  was  ich  für  Schmerzen  jetzt  habe  im  Hals, 


61 


i] 


••       i.-iV 


*   •■••,- 


Anmerkungen 


iv 

:5 


•ti 


t- 


I 


■iii 


2.   »Die  ei'gctulic/ie  Entdeckerin  der  Psychoanalyse«!  -7  i  '; 
Bertha  Pappenheim  ( 1859-19.36)  alias  »Anna  O. ':  .1  f 

1  Zit.  nach  Dora  Edingcr  (Hrsg.):  Bertha  Pappenheim.  Leben  und  Schriften.  Frank- 
fVirta.M.  1963,  S.  7.  ^,  P  jj;- 

2  Edinger,  S.  150/1.  .     ' 

3  Ebd..  S.  49. 

4  Ebd.,  5.61. 

5  Mary  Wollstonccraft:  Eine  Verteidigung  der  Rechte  der  Frau.  Dresden  und  Leipzig 
1899.  (Unter  dem  Pseudonym  B.  Berthold).  Das  Vorwort  von  Bertha  Pappenheim 
findet  sich  auch  in  der  Neuausgabe  von  Mary  Wollstonecraft  (hrsg.  v.[ Bertha 
Ralii^.  Zürich  1975,  2  B.le.  ,'  y  v  ' 

6  Denkwürdigkeiten  der  Ghickel  von  Hameln.  Wien  1910.  Siehe  auch  George  FL 
PoHock:  Glückel  von  1  lamein.  Bertha  Pappenheim's  Idealizcd  Ancestor.  In:  Ame- 
rican Imago  28  (1971),  S.  216-227.  Zu  Glückel  von  Hameln  vgl.  neuerdings 
Andrea  Misler,  in:  Die  Juden  in  Flaniburg  1590-1990.  Hrsg.  von  Arno  Herzig. 
Hamburg  1991.  Für  das  Glückel  von  Hnmcin-Gemälde  von  L.  Pilikowski  saß  Bertha 
Pappenheim  Modell,  vgl.  Jensen,  S.  133,  137  und  247  (Abb.). 

7  Frauenrecht.  Schauspiel  in  drei  Aufzügen.  Dresden  1899.  (Unter  dem  Pseudonym 
R  Berthold.)  •!  j 

8  Zur  Judenfrage  in  Galizien.  Fr.'uikfurt  a.  M.  1900.  (Unter  dem  Pseudt)nym  P. 
Bcrthold.)    ■■  ^ 

9  Mädchenhandel -Wellsammelvormundschaft.  Berlin  1929. 

10  Ellen  M.  Jensen:  Streifzüge  durch  das  Leben  von  Anna  O.  Bertha  Pappenheim.  Ein 
Fall  für  die  Psychiatrie  -  Ein  Leben  für  die  Philanthropie.  Frankfurt  a.  M.  1984, 
S.  97  ff.  Siehe  auch  Helga  1  leubach:  Das  Heiu\  des  Jüdischen  Frauenbundes.  Neu- 
Isenburg  1986.  ^  :»■ 

11  Ernest  Jones:  Das  Leben  und  Werk  von  Sigmund  Freud.  Bern  und  Stuttgart  1960, 
Bd.  1,  S.  266.  (Die  amerikanische  Ausgabe  erschien  1953.)     ii 

12  Siginund  Freud:  Über  Psychoanalyse.  In:  Gesammelte  Werke,  DJ!  VIII,  S.  3.  Inder 
späteren  Darstellung  »Zur  Geschichte  der  Psychoanalytischen  Bewegung«,  in: 
Gesammelte  Werke,  Bd.  X,  S.  45f.,  hat  Freud  die  Zuschreibung  etwas  modifiziert. 

13  Sigmund  Freud,  Josef  Breuer:  Studien  über  Hysterie.  Frankfurt  a;'  M.  1970,  S.  20.  In 
den  Gesammelten  Werken  fehlen  dierFeilc  von  Breuer.  (In  iUn  ursprünglichen 
Hysterie-Studien  von  1905  waren  die  Verfasser  nach  dem  Alphabet  aufgeführt,  die 


.1*- 


Neuausgabe  von  1970  dreht  diese  Reihenfolge  um.) 

14  Freud,  Breuer,  S.  22. 

15  Ebd.  ' 


f 


:l 


1.* 


I 


16  Ebd.,  S.  23.  ; 

17  Ebd. 

18  Ebd.,  S.  25. 

19  Ebd.,  S.  23. 

20  Ebd.,  S.  24. 

21  Ebd. 

22  Ebd.,  S.  33/4. 

23  Ebd.  .  .' 

24  Ebd.,  S.  34. 

25  Jones,  Bd.  I,  S.  266.  Zu  der  Frage(wcr/Iie  »kathart  ische  Methode«  als  Vorstufe  der 


\ 


Psychoanalyse  eigentlich  »entdec-kr«  hat  (Bertha  Pappenheim,  Josef  Breuer,  Sig- 


302 


i 


,.-^- 


i 


Anmerkungen 


mund  Freud,  Jacob  Bemays,  Theodor  oder  filise  Gomperz),  vgl.\  Volker  Langholh\ 
Die  »kathartische  Methode«.   Klassische  Pnilologie,  literarische  Tradition  und 
Wissenschaftstheorie  in  der  Frühgeschichte  der  Psychoanalyse.  In:  Medizinhistori> 
sches  Journal  25  (1990),  S.|5-39.         •        |  *•; 

26  Albrecht  Hirschmüller:  Physiologie  und  Psychoanalyse  im  Leben  und  Werk  Josef 
Breuers.  Bern  1978.  In  seiner  sorgfältigen,  auf  ausgedehnten  Quellenstudien  beru- 
henden Arbeit  bezeichnet  Hirschmüller  »di|  Freijd-Jones'sche  Version  vom  Ende 
der  Behandlung  der  Anna  O.  (.  .  .)  als  elhe  Legende«  (S.  176)  und  kritisiert 
insbesondere,  daß  Jones  Breuers  Leistung  abgewertet  habe  (S.  177).  So  einleuch- 
tend die  Darstellung  bei  Hirschmüller  im  einzelnen  auch  ist,  insbesondere  in  bezug 
auf  die  skandalöse  Abwertung  der  BreuerscheK  Leistung  in  der  Freud-Forschung,  so 
wenig  können  sie  doch  den  Skandal  der  Anfja  O. -Behandlung  im  Zusammenspiel 
zwischen  Breuer  und  Freud  entkräftend 

27  Freud,  Breuer,  b.  Jl. 

28  EUL,  S.  27. 

29  Ebd.,  S.31. 

30  Ebd.,  S.  27. 

31  Ebd.,  S.  35. 

32  Ilirschmüller  (Anm.  26)  hat  die  diesbezüglichen  Krankenhausakten  von  Bertha 
Pappenheim  aufgefunden  und  veröffentlicht,;  S.  348 ff.  / 


l 

■  4 
I'. 


3}  Freud,  Breuer,  S.  20. 


li 


/ 


34  Vgl.  Sigmund  Freud:  Brautbriefe.  Frankfurt  ai  M.  1988.  S.35. 

35  Vgl.  Hirschmüller  (Anm.  26),  S.  171.  | 

36  Sigmund  Freud:  Zur  Geschichte  der  psychoanalytischen  Bewegung.  In:  Gesam- 
melte Werke,  Bd.  X,  S.  49.  'I 

37  Sigmund  Freud:  Briefe  1873-1939.  Ausgew.  uiid  hrsg.  von  Ernst  und  Lucie  Freud. 
2.  erw.  Aufl.  Frankfurt  a.  M.  1968,  S.  427  f.  ';j 

38  Vgl.  dagegen  Hirschmüller  (Anm.  26),  S.  176.  Siehe  aucli|  Bernd  Nitzschkej  Skiz- 
zen  aus  dem  Leben  von  Bertha  Pappenheirri  (Anna  O.).  In:  Psyche  44  (1990), 
S.819.  I 


39  Jones,  Bd.  1,  S.  269. 

40  Vgl.  Hirschmüller  (Anm.  26),  S.  362. 

41  Ebd.,  S.364. 

42  Ebd. 

43  Edinger,  S.  13:  »Es  steht  (...)  nach  den  Aussagen  ihrer  späteren  engsten  Mitarbei- 
terinnen fest,  daß  sie  jede  psychoanalytische  Behandlung  eines  unter  ihrer  Fürsorge 
stehenden  Menschen  immer  streng  verboten  nat.« 

44  Zit.  nach  Nitzschke.  S.819.  | 

45  Edinger,  S.  12/3.  |i 

46  Hirschmüller  (Anm.  26),  S.  364.  l 

47  »Es  ist  eben  diese  Diskrepanz  zwischen  der  beklagenswerten  Patientin  Anna  O.  und 
der  imponierenden  CJestalt  der  Bertha  Pappenheim,  die  immer  wieder  Anlaß  zu 
Fragen  und  neuen  Interpretationen  gegeben  hat.«  Albrecht  Hirschmüller:  Durch 
Leiden  zur  schöpferischen  Kraft?  Anna  O.  und  Bertha  Pappenheim.  VortT^gstypo- 
skript,  in:  Dokumentation  zum  50.  Todestag  jvon  Bertha  Pappenheim.  Veranstal- 

•  .  tungsreihe  im  Auftrag  des  Magistrats  der  Stadt  Neu-Isenburg,  1986,  S.  57. 

48  »Vielleicht  darf  man  sagen,  sie  (Bertha  Pappenheim)  habe  durch  Breuers  Behand- 
lung fertiggebracht,  gewisse  (psychotische?)  tch-Strukturen  auszuklammern  und 
niederzuhalten.«  Hirschmüller  (Anm.  26),  S.  170. 


ir 


303 


■k" 


*   • 

• '-.'. 

•"  ••  •! 

■i'^S'} 


:^•.v  f 


:.» 


Anmerkungen 


? 


1^'. 
•?!: 


49  HirscKmüller  (Anni.  26).  S.  265.     f 

50  Vgl-  neucjclingslYoIande  Tisseron:  Du'clucil  a  la  rdparationr  Anna  O.  resiitiice  a 
Bertha  Pappenheim.  ['ans  iyH6,  iiTic|  F.  Schwci^liofer:  Das  Pmättheatcr  der  Anna 
O.  Ein  psychoanalytisches  Lehrstück,  ein  Emanzipationsdrama.  München  und 
Basel  1987.  j;  T  |; 

51  Frccman  (Anm.  65)  sieht  in  »AnnaiO. . .«  eine  Anspieluno'aiif  Freuds  Schwester 
(S.  246),  Nitzschke  einen  Bezug  aufweine  Erziihlung  von  Bertha  Pappenheimund 

X     assoziiert  ini  ührigen  das  »A  und  O,  Alpha  und  Oiuega«  (S.;824),  währencfaahnr 
(Anm.  5)  das  Pseudonym  als  »Anna  Null«  (Bd.  11,  S.  15)  aüdöst  und  Breiier  unJ 
Freud  entwertende,  frauenfeindliche  Tendenzen  unterstellt.';:;    " 

52  Das  Verhältnis  zwischen  Charcot  und  Freud  ist  durch  neuere  C^uellenpuhlikationen 
aufgehellt.  Vgl.  Toby  Gelfand:  »Mon  eher  Docteur  Freud«;  Charcot's  unpuhlished 
correspomlcnce  to  Freud,  1888-1893.  In:  Bull.  Ilist.  Med.  62  ( 1988),  S.  563-588, 
und  Alain  de  Mijolla:  Les  lettres  de  Jean-Martin  Charcot  a  Sigmund  Freud 
(1886-1893).  Le  crepuscule  d'un  dieu.  In:  Revue  fran^aise  de  Psychanalyse  52 
(1988),  S.  703-725.  i  ij 

53  Sigmund  Freud:  Zur  Geschichte  der  Psychoanalytischen  Bewegung.  In:  Gesam- 
melte Werke,  Bd.  X,  S.  44.  : 

54  Sigmund  Freud:  Selhstdarstellung.  In:  Gesan\melte  Werke,  Bd.  XIV,  S.  51. 

55  Zit.  bei  Jones,  Bd.  1,  S.  268.  \\  •    ;!   . 

56  Hirschmülier  (Anm.  26),  S.  254.      j{         '  ^*    |  ^  ^ 

57  Jones,  Bd.l.S.  266.  j!  4   |^ 

58  Vgl.  Jones.  Bd.  I,S.  346 ff.  ^  \    |;'     " 

59  Vgl.  Bernd  Urhan:  1  lofmannsthal,  Freud  und  die  Psychoanalyse.  Quellenkundliche 
Untersuchungen.  Frankfurt  a.  M.  1976,  und  Michael  Worhs:  Nervenkunst,  Litera- 
tur und  Psychoanaly.se  im  Wien  der  Jahdumdertwende.  Frankfurt  a.  M.  1983. 

60  Stefan  Zweig:  Die  Heilung  durch  den  Geist.  6.  Aufl.  F-rankfurt  a.  M.  1992. 

61  Freud,  Breuer:  »Sie  pflegte  systematis.ch  das  Wachträumen,  das  sie  ihr  >Privatthea- 
ter<  nannte«  (S.  20).  .:  i  ^ 

62  Vgl.  zu  ihren  frühen  bclletrisrischen  Arbeiten,  Hirschmülier,  S.  164-170,  und 
Jensen,  S.  42-44  imd  127  ff.  ';  | 

63  Sigmund  Freud:  Studien  über  Hysterie.  In:  Gesammelte  Werke,  Bd.  I,  S.  312. 

64  P  Bcrthold  (=  Bertha  Pappenheim):  In  der  Trödelbude.  Lnhr  1890,  zit.  nach 
Nitzschke,  S.812.  't  '4  ^- 

65  Lucy  Freeman:  Die  Geschichte  der  Anna  O.  Der  Fall,  der  Sigmund  Freud  zur 
Psychoanalyse  führte.  München  1973,  S.  253.  Vgl.  die  harsche  Kritik  an  Freeman 
bei  Berta  Rahm  (Anm.  54),  Nitzschke  (Anm.  38)  schlieft  sich  über  weite  Strecken 

.    den  Thesen  von  Freeman  an,  ohne  die  Verf.  freilich  zu  nennen. 

66  Ebd.,  S.  255.  -c  ^. 

X67  \Angelika  Grunenberg:  Todestag  von  Hertha  Pappenheim,  f-reiids  Patientin  »Anna 
O.«;  WDR  11,  28."^.  1991,  Sendu.^g  Zeitzeichen  (Mskr.).       |  [. 
68  Vgl.  Hirschmüller  (Anm.  47),  S.  57.  ii  ,    \  ;; 


r- 


^ 


«! 


69  Freeman,  S.  253. 

70  Nitzschke,  S.  799. 

71  Vgl.  die  zweibtändige  Sammlung  von  Reisebriefen  unter  dem  Titel  »Sisyphus- 
Arbeit«,  Leipzig  1924  und  Berlin  1929.  Ml 

72  Jensen,  S.  179 ff.  f-  '<   1 

73  Ebd..  S.  184.                •  %  '■  vi' 

74  Ebd.,  S."  185.  r  c 

' :                  ■       ■  -i-  '  ■                ^ 

,304 


Anmerkungen 


75  Ebd.,S.  184/5.  I 

76  Eine  feministische  Lesart,  in  der  die  Hysterie  von  Bertha  Pappenheim  als  kulturelles 
Konstrukt  gedeutet  wird,  findet  sich  in  dem  anregendere  Beitrag  voiuMarion  A. 
Kaplan:  Anna  O.  und  Bertha  Pappenheim}'  A  historical  perspective.  liiTAnna  O. 
Füurtecn  contemporary  reinterpretations.  Hrsg.  von  Max  Rosenbaum  und  Melvin 
Muroff.  New  York  und  London  1984,  S.  101-117.  Siehe  auch  in  demselben  Band 

i  Anne  Steinmann,  S.  118-131.  Steinmanri  glaubt,  daß  Anna  O.  von  einer  Thera- 


pcutin  hätte  vollständig  gclicilt  werden  können. 


3.    Die  ersten  Patientinnen 
IRMA  -  EMMA  -  DORA 


I 
iii 


ti. 


i 


1  Sigmund  Freud:  Briefe  an  Wilhelm  Fließ  1887-1904.  Ungekürzte  Ausgabe.  Hrsg. 
von  J.  M.  Masson.  Frankfurt  a.  M.  1985,  S.  458. 

2  Sigmund  Freud:  Die  Traumdeutung.  In:  Gesammelte  Werke,  Bd.  ll/lll,  S.  111. 

3  Ebd.,S.  111/2.  |-i         ^; 

4  Vgl.  J.Grunert:  Freud  und  Irma.  In:  Psyche  29  (1975),  S.  721-744;  Kurt  R.  Eissler: 
Ein  Abschied  von  Freuds  »Traumdeutung«.  In:  Psyche  41  (1987),  S.  969-986; 
Helmut  Thomä:  Wer  war  Freuds  »Irma«?;;  ebd.,  S.  987-991,  und  Uwe  Flendrik 
Peters:  Irma  -  Emma  -  Martha  -  Anna.  Einige  zusätzliche  Bemerkungen  zu  Ausfüh- 
rungen von  K.  R.  Eissler  und  H.  Thomä.  (n:  Psyche  43  (1989),  S.  830-848. 

5  Vgl.  Moniquc  Schneider:  Der  weibliche  Blick  und  die  theoretische  Schrift.  In: 
Psyche43(1989),S.  331-338.  | 

6  »Ich  muß  mir  eingestehen,  daß  ich  Irma  und  meine  Frau  in  diesem  Traume  nicht 
sehr  liebenswürdig  behandle,  aber  zu  meiner  Entschuldigung  sei  bemerkt,  daß  ich 
beide  am  Ideal  der  braven,  gefügigen  Patientin  messe.«  Traumdeutung.  In:  Gesam- 
melte Werke,  Bd.  11/111,  S.l  15.  |i). 

7  Christa  Rohde-Dachser:  Expedition  in  de'n  dunklen  Kontinent.  Weiblichkeit  im 
Diskurs  der  Psychoanalyse.  Berlin  und  Heidelberg  1991,  S.  169. 

8  Georges  Devcreux:  Baubo.  Die  mythische  Vulva.  Frankfurt  a.  M.  1985.  Vgl.  zur 
Kritik  an  Devereux  Rohde-Dachser,  S.  246  ff. 

9  Vgl.  auch  den  Brief  an  Wilhelm  Fließ  vom  28.03.  1888:  »Ich  habe  gerade  eine 
l>ame  in  Hypnose  vor  mir  liegen  und  kann  daher  ruhig  weiterschreiben.«  Der  Brief 
endet  mit  dem  Satz:  »Die  Zeit  für  die  Hypnose  ist  um.«  Briefe  an  FlieB,  S.  8/9. 

10  Sigmund  Freud:  Studien  über  Hysterie.  In:  Gesammelte  Werke,  Bd.  I,  S.  208. 
U  Ebd.  '' 

12  Ebd.,S.  166. 

13  Ebd.,S.  208. 

14  Ebd.,S.  166. 


I 


i 


15  Ebd.,  S.  308:  »Ganz  gewöhnlich  klagt  die.Kranke,  wenn  man  die  Druckprozedur 
vornimmt  (.  .  .).  Der  Kopfschmerz  bedeutet  die  Abneigung,  sich  beeinflussen  zu 
lassen.«  k 


16  Ebd.,S.  282. 

17  Elxl.,S.  280. 

18  EM. 


I 


i 

t 


305 


V 


Anmerkungen 


1! 


I 


^ 

1 


'i^4 


^1 


l 


39  Freud  Collection,  zit.  nacli  Gay.  S.  609.  : '  |  ^•- 

40  Vgl.  Klaus  Thewelelt:  Objektwahl.  Ober  Paarbildungsstrategien  <Si  Bruchstück 
einer  Freudbiographie.  Frankfurt  a.  M.i;l 990,  S.  120.  i    .{  ■  • 

41  Hilda  Doolittle:  Huldigung  an  Freud.  Frankfurt  a.  M.  1975,  S.  87. 

42  Ebd.;  S.  168:  »Als  ich  dem  Professor '^agte,  daß  ich  in  Francis  Josepha  vernarrt 
gewesen  sei  und  vielleicht  mit  ihr  glücklich  geworden  wäre,  sagte  er:  >Nein  -  aus 
biologischen  Gründen,  nein!<« 

43  Zit.  nach  Peters,  S.  191. 

44  Salber(Anm.  12),  S.  31  ff.  j 

45  Vgl.  auch  Anna  Freud:  Die  Schriften  der  Anna  Freud.  München  1980,  10  Bde.  Die 
Arbeiten  zur  Hampstead-Child-Clinic  finden  sich  in  Bd.  IV.     ff.' '' 

46  Zit.  nach  Peters,  S.  290.  .     ij  i;- 

47  Anna  Freud:  Schlagephantasie  und  Tagtraum  (1922).  In:  dies.:  Die  Schriften  der 
Anna  Freud.  München  1980,  Bd.  I,  S.  141. 

48  Ebd..S.  142.,  ,; 

49  Ebd.  • 

50  Ebd.,  S.  143/4. 

51  Ebd.,S.  144.' 

52  Ebd.,S.  145. 
'53  Ebd.,S.  146. 

54  Ebd.,S.  148/9. 

55  Ebd.,S.  147. 

56  Ebd.,S.  151/2. 

57  Ebd.,S.  152.; 

58  Ebd.,S.  155. 

59  Ebd.,  S.  56. 

60  Vgl.  dazu  auch  Sophie  Freud:  Meine ''drei  Mütter  und  andere  Leidenschaften. 
Düsseldorf  1989.  Die  Psychoanalytikerih  Sophie  Freud  ist  eine  Enkelin  Sigmund 
Freuds  und  Großnichte  Anna  Freuds.  Eine  ihrer  »drei  Mütter«  ist  Anna  Freud,  der 
sie  in  dem  Kapitel  .»Das  Vermächtnis  vonAnna  Freud«  ein  Denkmal  setzt,  S.  323  ((. 
In  der  Frage,  ob  Anna  Freud  eher  eine  »loyale  Tochter«  oder  eher  eine  »eigenstän- 
dige prau«  gewesen  sei,  nimmt  Sophie  Freud  eine  vermittelnde  Position  ein. 

61  Günther  Bittner  und  Peter  Heller  (Hrsp.):  Eine  Kinderanalyse' bei  Anna  Freud 
1929-1932.  Retrospektive  von  Peter  Heller  mit  Dokumentation  iind  Notizen  von 
Anna  Freud.  Kommentar  von  Günther  J3ittner.  Würzburg  1983,  S.  297/8. 

62  Vgl.  Anna  Freud:  Vier  Vorträge  über  Kinderanalyse  ( 1926/7).  In:  dies.:  Die  Schrif- 
ten der  Anna  Freud,  Bd.  I,  S.  44/5..       \\  t'    4 

63  Vgl.  Peters,  S.  13.  |  .|  " 

64  Theweleit  (Anm.  40),  S.  120/1:  »(. .  .):\velcher  Vater  hinterließ  einer  Tochter  je 
ein  derartiges  Reich  (Arbeitsgebiet,  Lebensgebiet).  Und  es  war  gedacht  als  Hinter- 

!  lassenschaft.  Freuds  Kronprinz  war  einelprau,  schließlich.  Mit  cjen  Männern  des 
Vereins  (sie  mochte  sie)  war  sie  verbunde|n,  wie  es  kein  Mann  gewesen  wäre:  ohne 
Krieg.  Den  gab  es  eher  mit  Konkurrentiimen  wie  Melanie  Klein.  }(Und  mit  einem 
neuen  König  Lacan,  den  sie,  nach  einmoiliger  Kongreßberührungi  mied.)« 


I 
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i  I 


Literaturverzeichnis 


Literaturverzeichnis 


Diese  Bibliographie  enthält  mir  übergreifende  Tfte!.  Zu  den  einzelnen  ?atien- 
tinnen  undloder  Anal':jtiker innen  siehe  die  Angaben  in  den  Anmerkungen  m 
den  einzelnen  Porträts.'  i' 


i 


AUCEROLLES,  JO^LLE:  Mein  Analytiker  und  ich.  Tagebuch  einer  verhängnisvollen 
Beziehung.  Frankfurt  a.  M.  1991.  i| 

ANONYMA:  Verführung  auf  der  Couch.  Eine  Niederschrift.  Freiburg  1988. 

BENJAMIN,  JESSICA:  Die  Fesseln  der  Liebe.  Psychoanalyse.  Feminismus  und  das  Pro- 
blem der  Macht.  Frankfurt  a.  M.  1990.  1 

BERKLEY,  GEORGE  E.:  Vienna  and  its  Jews.  The  Tragedy  of  Success,  1880-1980. 
Cambridge,  Ma.ss.  1988.  il  { 

BODENHEIMER,  ARON  RONALD  (Hrsg.):  Freuds  Qegenwärtigkcit.  ' Zwölf  Essays. 
Stuttgart  1989.  ,|  ; 

BRAUN.  CHRISTINA  VON:  Nicht  Ich.  Logik,  Lüge,  Libido.  Frankfurt  a.  M.  1990. 

BREDE,  KAROLA  (Hrsg.):  Was  will  das  Weib  in  mir? Tilgung  anläßlich  des  70.  Geburts- 
tages von  Margarethe  Miischerlich-Nielsen.  Freiburg  1989. 

BRINKER-GABLER,  GISELA  (Hrsg.):  Zur  Psychologie  cler  Frau.  Frühe  Texte.  Frankfurt 
a.  M.  1978.  ,j  i 

CAMENZIND.  ELISABETH  UND  STEINEN.  ULFA  VON  DEN  (Hrsg.):  Frauen  verlassen 
die  Couch.  Feministische  Psychotherapie.  Zürich  1989. 

CHASSEGUETSMIRGEL.  JANINE  (Hrsg.):  Psychoanalyse  der  weiblichen  Sexualität. 
Frankfurt  a.M.  1974.  j 

DIES.  (Hrsg.):  Wege  des  Anti-Ödipus.  Frankfurt  a.  Mi  1978.  :         .    \ 

DIES.:  Zwei  Bäume  im  Garten.  Zur  psychischen  Bedeutung  der  Vater-  und  Mutterbil- 
der. Psychoanalytische  Studien.  München  und  Wien  1988.  • 

CHODOROW.  NANCY:  Das  Erbe  der  Mütter.  Psychoanalyse  und  Soziologie  der  Ge- 
schlechter. München  1985.  '■        ili: 

DIES.:  Femijxism  and  Psychoanalytic  Theory.  New  Ha'ven  and  London  1989. 

DÖRNER.  KLAUS:  Bürge  und  Irre.  Zur  Sozialgeschichte  und  Wissenschaftssoziologie 
der  Psychiatrie.  Frankfurt  a.  M.  1969.  Ij 

DRIGALSKI.  DÖRTE  VON:  Blumen  auf  Granit.  Einq  Irr-  und  Lehrfahrt  durch  die 
deutsche  Psychoanalyse.  2.  Aufl.  Frankfurt  a.  M.  1991. 

EICKE.  DIETER  (Hrsg.):  Tiefenpsychologie.  Weinheim  und  Basel  1982,  4  Bde. 

ELLENBERGER,  HENRY  E:  Die  Entstehung  des  Unbewußten.  Bern,  Stuttgart,  Wien 
1973,  2  Bde.  jj 

ESCHENRÖDER.  CHRISTOF  T:  Hier  irrt  Freud.  Zur^Kritik  der  psychoanalytischen 

Theorie  und  Praxis.  München  1989.  i 

FLAX,  JANE:  Thinking  Fragments.  Psychoanalysis,  Feininism  and  Postmodernism  in 

theContemporary  West.  Berkeley  1990.  '•  • 

FOUCAULT.  MICHEL:  Wahnsinn  und  Gesellschaft.  Fra 
FREEMAN,  LUCY  UNDSTREAN.  HERBERTS.:  Freud  & 
FREUD,  SIGMUND:  Briefe  1873-1939.  Ausgew.  und  hrsg.  von  Ernst  und  Lucie  Freud. 

2.  erw.  Auflage,  Frankfurt  a.  M.  1968.  " 


likfurta.  M.  1969. 
Women.  New  York  1987. 


:i 


')i 


331 


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Literaturverzeichnis 


r^ 


DERS.:  Gesammelte  Werke.  Chronologisch  geordnet,  unter  Mitwirkung  von  Marie 
Bonaparte,  Prinzessin  Georg  von  Griechenland,  hrsg.  von  Anna  Freud  u.  a.  London 
1940-1952,  17  Bde.  Bd.  18  Frankfurt  a.  M.  1968.  (Seit  1960  die  gesamte  Edition  bei 
Fischer.)       '  i,  .:    Im, 

DERS.:  Sein  Leben  in  Bildern  und  Texten.  I:lrsg.  von  Ernst  Freud  M.a.,  Frankfurt  a.  M. 

1989.  ;:|v;  :•    ;  ij;  .         ,  ../.■ 

FREUD,  SIGMUND  AND  ART.  (Katalog)  London  und  New  York  1989. 
GAY,  PETER:  Freud.  Eine  Biographie  für  un*;ere  Zeit.  Frankfurt  a.  M.  1989. 
•    GROENEWOLD.  GABRIELE:  Ich  und  kein  Ende.  Der  Mythos  von  Ocdipus  und  der 

Sphinx.  Frankfurt  a.  M.  1985.  /  .;     •= 

HAGEMANN-WniTE,  CAROL:  Frauenbewegung  und  Psychoanalyse.  Basel  und  Frank- 

f\irta.  M.  1979.  :■  .; 

HEMECKER,  WILHELM  W.:  Vor  Freud.  Philosophicgcschichtliche  Voraussetzungen  der 
Psychoanalyse.  München  1990.  '|? 

HERIK,  JUDITH  VAN:  Freud  on  Fcminity  and  Faith.  Berkeley,  Los  Angeles,  London 
1982.  \. 

HIRSCHMÜLLER,  ALBRECHT:  Freuds  Begegnung  mit  der  Psychiatrie.  Von  der  Hirnmy- 
thologie zur  Neurosenlchrc.  Tübingen  1991.  .. 

HOFFMANN,  DAGMAR  (Hrsg.):  Frauen  in  der  Psychiatrie  oder  wie  männlich  ist  die 
Psychologie?  Bonn  1991.  i: 

HONEGGER,  CLAUDIA:  Die  Ordnung  der  iOeschlcchicr.  Die  Wissenschaften  vom 
Menschen  und  das  Weib.  Frankfurt  a.  M.;  New  York  1991.  .; 

ISRAEL,  LUCIEN:  L^ie  unerhörte  Botschaft  der  Hysterie.  München  und  Basel  1983. 

JACOBY,  RUSSELL:  Die  Verdrängung  der  Psychoanalyse  oder  der  Triuiuph  des  Konfor- 
mismus. Frankfurt  a.  M.  1990.  .[ 

JONES,  ERNEST  Das  Leben  und  Werk  von  Sigmund  Freud.  Bern  und  Stuttgart 
1960-1962,  3  Bde.  l:  i 

KAMPER.  DIETMAR  UND  WULF.- CHRISTOPH  (Hrsg.):  Die  Wiederkehr  des  Körpers. 
Frankfurt  a.  M.  1982.  jj  ; 

KOFMAN,  SARAH:  L'enigme  de  la  femnie.  La  fcmme  dans  Ics  textes  de  Freud.  2.  Aufl. 
Paris  1983.  (f  r 

KÖHLER,  THOMAS:  Abwege  der  Psychoanalyse-Kritik.  Zur  Unvvisscnschaftlichkeit  der 
Anti-Freud-Literatur.  Frankfurt  a.  M.  1989,  -i  '. 

KRÜLL,  MARIANNE:  Freud  und  sein  Vater.  'Die  Entstehung  der  Psychoanalyse  und 
Freuds  ungelöste  Vuerbindung.  München  1979. 

KRUTZENBICHLER.  H.  SEBASTIAN  UND  ESSER,  HANS:  Muß  denn  Liebe  Sünde  sein? 
Über  das  Begehren  des  Analytikers.  Freiburg  1991.  i     4 

KURNITZKY,  HORST:  Ödipus.  Ein  Held  der  westlichen  Welt.  Bedin  1981. 

LORENZER.  ALFRED:  Die  Wahrheit  der  psychoanalytischen  Erkenntnis.  Ein  historisch- 
materialistischer  Entwurf.  Frankfurt  a.  M.  Ii974. 

DERS.:  Intimität  und  soziales  Leid.  Archäologie  der  Psychoanalyse.  Frankfurt  a.  M. 

1984.  i  .^  I  .,•   :^i  .  .... 

LUZIFER-AMOR.  Zeitschrift  zur  Geschichte  der  Psychoanalyse.  FIrsg.  von  Hanna 
Gerkle  und  Gerd  Kimmeric.  Tübingen  1988  ff.  ' 

MAIDENBAUM,  ARYEH  UND  MARTIN.  STEPHEN  A.  (Hrs«.):  Lingering  Shadows.  Jun- 
gians,  Freudians  and  Anti-Semitism.  Boston  und  London  1991. 

MAHONY,  PATRICK  J.:  Der  Schriftsteller  Sigmund  Freud.  Frankfurt  a.  M.  1989. 

MASSON,  JEFFREY  MOUSSAIEFF:  Was  hat  man  dir,  du  armes  Kind,  getan?  Sigmund 
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DERS.:  Dark  Science.  Women,  Sexuality  und  Psychiatry  in  the  Nineteenth  Century. 

New  York  1986.  | 

DERS.:  Die  Abschaffung  der  Psychotherapie.  Ein  Plädoyer.  München  1991. 
MITCHELL,  JULIET  Psychoanalyse  und  Feminismus.  Frankfurt  a.  M.  1976. 
OLIVIER,  Cl  IRISTIANE:  Jokastes  Kinder.  Die  Psyche  der  Frau  im  Schatten  der  Mutter. 

München  1989.  "  '  | 

OXAAL,  IVOR  u.  a.  (Hrsg.):  Jews,  Antisemitism  and  Culture  in  Vicnna.  London  und 

New  York  1987.  \ 

FOHLEN.  MANFRED  UND  BANTZ-HOLZHERR,  MARGARETHE:  Eine  andere  Aufkl;i- 

rung.  Das  Freudsche  Subjekt  in  der  Analyse.  Frankfurt  a.  M.  1991. 
PSYCHE.  Zeitschrift  für  Psychoanalyse  und  ihre  Anwendung.  Begründet  von  Alexander 

Mitscherlich.  Stuttgart  1946  ff.  j|' 

REICHENEDER,  JOHANN  GEORG:  Zum  Konstitutionsprozeß  der  Psychoanalyse.  Stutt- 
gart 1990.  i|^ 
RICE,  EMANUEL:  Freud  and  Moses.  The  long  journey  home.  New  York  1990. 
RIJNAARTS,  JOSEPHINE:  Lots  Töchter.   Über  den  Vater-Tochter-lnzest.  München 

1991.  ;l 

ROBERT,  MARTllE:  Die  Revolution  der  Psychoanalyse.ilLeben  und  Werk  von  Signuuid 
Freud.  Frankfurt  a.  M.  1967.  !| 

DIES.:  Sigmund  Freud.  Zwischen  Moses  und  Ödipus.  Kjünchen  1975. 

ROHDE-DACHSER,  CHRISTA:  Expedition  in  den  dunklen  Kontinent.  Weiblichkeit  im 
Diskurs  der  Psychoanalyse.  Berlin  u.  a.  1991.  '^, 

SAYERS,  JANET:  Mothering  Psychoanalysis.  Flelene  Deutsch,  Karen  Horney,  Anna 
Freud  and  Melanie  Klein.  London  1991.  I| 

SPRENGNETHER.  MADELON:  The  Spectral  Mother.  Freud,  Feminism,  and" Psychoana- 
lysis. Ithaca  und  London  1990.  il; 

SOMBART,  NICOLAUS:  Die  deutschen  Männer  und  ihre  Feinde.  Carl  Schmitt.  Ein 
deutsches  Schicksal  zwischen  Männerbund  und  Matriarchatsmythos.  München  und 
Wien  1991.  f 

SULLOWAY,  FRANK:  Freud.  Biologie  der  Seele.  Köln  1982. 

SCHAPS,  REGINA:  Flysterie  und  Weiblichkeit.  Wisserischaftsmythen  über  die  Frau. 
Frankfurt  a.  M.  und  New  York  1982.  jli 

SCHLESIER,  RENATE:  Mythos  und  Weiblichkeit  bei  Sigmund  Freud.  Zum  Problem  der 
Entmydiologisierung  und  Remythologisierung  in  der  psychoanalytischen  Theorie. 
Frankflirt  a.  M.  1981.  | 

THEWELEIT  KLAUS:  Objektwahl  (All  you  need  ist  love  \.  .).  Über  Paarbildungsstrate- 
gien &  Bnichstück  einer  Freudbiographie.  Basel,  Frankfurt  a.  M.  1990. 


Idämng  oder  Das  Rätsel  der 


VOGT,  ROLL":  Psychoanalyse  zwischen  Mythos  und  Au 

Sphinx.  Frankfurt  a.  M.  und  New  York  1986. 
WORBS,  MICHAEL:  Nervenkunst.  Literatur  und  Psychoanalyse  im  Wien  der  Jahrhun 

dertwende.  Frankfurt  a.  M.  1983.  ;| 

YERUSHALMI.  JOSEF  HAYIM:  Freud's  Moses.  Judaism,  Terminable  and  Interminable. 

New  Haven  and  London  1991.  f 

YOUNG-BRUEHL.  ELISABETH:  Freud  on  women.  London  1990. 

V 

ZIMMER,  DIETER  E.:  Tiefenschwindel.  Die  endlose  und  (lie  beendbare  Psychoanaly.'^c. 
.     Reinbek  1990.  ^ 


332 


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Gerald  Kreft 

Zur  Archäologie  der  Psychoanalyse  in  Frankfurt: 
Fundstücke  und  Perspektiven  um  Ludwig  Edinger 


Von  Oktober  bis  Dezember  1925  war  Frankfurt  am  Main  Ort  der  ersten 
akademischen  Selbstdarstellung  der  Psychoanalyse  an  einer  deutschen 
medizinischen  Fakultät.  Teilnehmer  dieser  sechs  abendlichen  Kolloquien 
zu  Fragen  zeitgenössischer  Psychotherapie  gründeten  im  Oktober  1926  die 
Frankfurter  Psychoanalytische  Arbeitsgemeinschaft,  aus  der  das  am 
16.2.1929  eröffnete  Frankfurter  Psychoanalytische  Institut  als  Gastinstitut 
am  Frankfurter  Institut  für  Sozialforschung  hervorging.* 

Bemerkenswert  an  jenem  organisationsgeschichtlichen  Auftakt  der 
Psychoanalyse  in  Frankfurt  ist,  daß  er  auf  Interesse  innerhalb  des  Universi- 
tätsklinikums zurückging.  Die  beiden  Initiatoren,  der  Internist  Gustav  von 
Bergmann  wie  der  Neurologe  Kurt  Goldstein  waren  dort  Direktoren  der 
Medizinischen  Klinik  bzw.  des  Neurologischen  Institutes.  Demgegenüber 
bot  in  Bedin  nicht  die  Universität,  sondern  ein  Ärztlicher  Verein  der 
Psychoanalyse  im  Frühjahr  1925  die  Gelegenheit  einer  offenen  Anerken- 
nung.^ Daß  in  Frankfurt  lokalspezifische  Momente  bei  der  Etablierung  der 
Psychoanalyse  eine  Rolle  spielten,  stellt  Michael  Laier  heraus: 

»Die  Zusammenarbeit  von  Kurt  Goldslein  und  Psychoanalytikern  halle  in 
Frankfurt  Tradition,  denn  zu  Goldsleins  Mitarbeilern  am  Neurologischen  In- 
stitut gehörten  beispielsweise  Siegmund  Heinz  Fuchs,  Friedrich  Peds  und  (...) 
Frieda  Fromm-Reichmann.  Inieressanlerweise  wurden  diese  drei  Miiarbeiler 
Goldsteins  im  Rahmen  ihres  weiteren  beruHichen  Werdeganges  sehr  unorthodo- 
xe Psychoanalytiker.«^ 

An  dieser  Stelle  soll  der  Versuch  unternommen  werden,  in  mikrologisch 
orientierter  Spurensuche  an  einigen  bislang  unveröffentlichten  medizin- 
und  lokalhistorischen  Dokumenten  plausibel  zu  machen,  daß  in  dieser 
Stadt  ältere,  über  Kurt  Goldslein  hinausweisende  informelle  Beziehungen 


'    Vgl.  die  Beiträge  von  Michael  Laier  und  Helmul  Siefert  in  diesem  Band:  außerdem  Laier 

1989,  30  und  53:  ders.  1994.  181:  Waldvogel  1992.  42. 
^    De  Clerck  1994.  44. 
^   Laier  1994.  182. 

195 


\ 


Gerald  Kreft 


Fundstücke  und  Perspektiven  um  Ludwi^i  Edinger 


zur  entstehenden  Psychoanalyse  existiert  haben,  die  in  ein  spezifisches,  in 
die  Wilhelminische  Zeit  zurückreichendes  Milieu  eingebettet  waren  und 
noch  nach  dem  Zweiten  Welticrieg  die  Geschichte  der  Psychoanalyse  -  nun 
allerdings  nicht  mehr  nur  in  Frankfurt  -  bewegten. 

Ein  solcher  Zugang  zur  Geschichte  der  Psychoanalyse  in  Frankfurt  darf 
sich  in  mehrfacher  Hinsicht  als  »archäologisch«  bezeichnen:  als  Beitrag  zu 
Aspekten  des  nervenärztlichen  Diskurses  um  1900;  als  Untersuchung  einer 
lokalen  Vorgeschichte  der  Psychoanalyse;  im  Sinne  des  alltäglichen 
Sprachgebrauchs  als  Ausgraben  von  Verschüttetem,  das  auch  Sigmund 
Freud  zum  Vergleich  von  Altertumsforschung  und  Psychoanalyse  anregte: 
»Beiden  bleibt  das  Recht  zur  Rekonstruktion  durch  Ergänzung  und  Zu- 
sammenfügung der  erhaltenen  Reste  unbestritten.«^  Insofern  die  freige- 
legten Fundstücke  sachlich  verschiedenen  Problemschichten  angehören, 
destruiert  die  folgende  Darstellung  deren  chronologische  Reihe,  um  sie 
strukturell  neu  zu  konstruieren.  Dabei  werden  in  unterschiedlicher  Intensi- 
tät Konturen  von  Beziehungen  sichtbar,  die  untereinander  zwar  korres- 
pondieren, miteinander  jedoch  allein  durch  lose  Enden  verknüpft  sind. 
Diese  Konstellationen  lassen  sich  vorgreifend  mit  Namen  bezeichnen: 
Ludwig  Edinger-  Kurt  Goldstein  -  Max  Horkheimer  (I);  Ludwig  Edinger 
-  Sigmund  Freud  (II);  Familie  Edinger  -  Bertha  Pappenheim  (III). 


I.  Ludwig  Edinger  -  Kurt  Goldstein  -  Max  Horkheimer 

Gustav  von  Bergmanns  Interesse  an  der  Psychoanalyse  läßt  sich  auf  seine 
Berliner  Zeit  zurückdatieren.^  Nicht  problematisiert  wurde  bisher,  in  wel- 
cher Hinsicht  das  Engagement  Kurt  Goldsteins  bei  der  Etablierung  der 
Psychoanalyse  in  Frankfurt  auch  auf  Ludwig  Edinger  (1855-1918),  das 
Neurologische  Institut  und  die  Familie  Edinger  zurückweist.^  Nach  Edin- 
gers  Tod  wurde  Goldstein  dessen  Nachfolger  als  Direktor  des  Neurolo- 
gischen Instituts  und  Extraordinarius  für  das  Fach  Neurologie  an  der 
Frankfurter  Stiftungsuniversität.^  Zeitgenossen  beschrieben  ihn  als  einen 


**  Freud  GW  XVI.  45  f.  Zum  Stellenwert  mikrologischer  Ansätze  Kritischer  Theorie  in  der 
allugsgeschichtiichen  Forschung  vgl.  Kreft  1988;  Unterschiede  von  »mikrohistorischer 
Indiziensicherung«  und  »psychoanalytischer  Tiefenhermeneuiik«  prononciert  Lorenzer 

1985. 
^  Kallmorgen  1936,  222;  Westphal  1922.  538. 
*  Vgl.  Emisch  1991;  Ludwig  Edinger.  1855-1918.  Gedenkschrift  1959. 
'  Eulner  (1962).  20. 


196 


Ludwig  Edinger 

Die  in  den  Beständen  des  Edinger-Archivs  im  Neurologischen  Institut  erhaltene 
Photographie  ist  vermutlich  um  1910  entstanden.  Sie  zeigt  Ludwig  Edinger  an  seinem 
Schreibtisch.  Im  Hintergrund  sind  schemenhaft  Kleinodien  seiner  umfangreichen 
Kunstsammlung  erkennbar.  Das  Bild  vermittelt  einen  atmosphärischen  Eindruck  vom 
Interieur  des  wilhelminischen  Bildungsbürgenums. 


197 


Gerald  Kraft 

Edinger  »verwandten  Geist«^.  In  seiner  »Auiobiography«  charakterisierte 
Kurt  Goldstein  (1878-1965)  diese  Beziehung  näher: 

»In  Edinger  I  found  an  excelienl  inierpreler  of  ihe  great  variations  in  ihe  rela- 
lionship  of  the  slnjcture  of  the  nervous  System  lo  the  behaviour  of  animals, 
thus,  he  created  a  new  field  of  science:  >the  comparative  anatomy  of  the  ner- 
vous system<.  Although  my  basic  concepts  later  diverged  from  his,  he  had 
lifelong  ejfects  upon  my  thinking.  His  was  an  all-embracing  attitude  towaräs 
living  beings,  he  tumed  particjiarly  to  the  study  of  the  nervous  System  of  man. 
It  led  him  lo  strive  a  treatment  center  as  the  goal  of  his  work,  a  wish  that  un- 
fortunately  was  never  be  fulfilled.  The  strength  of  his  intention  was  shown  in 
the  facl  that  he  nof  oniy  gave  me,  his  Oberarzt  (im  Original  deutsch]  (first 
assistent)  in  his  institute  [seit  1914],  whom  he  needed  very  badly,  permission 
to  organize  my  special  institute  for  brain-injured  soldiers,  but  even  dismissed 
me  from  his  laboratory  with  the  words:  >Your  work  with  human  beings  is  of 
much  greater  importance  than  my  Iheoretical  work  in  the  laboratories.r 

Beide  Lebenswerke,  vergleichende  Morphologie  des  Gehirns  (Edinger)  und 
organismische  Neuropsychologie  (Goldstein)  gewinnen  ihre  Einheitlichkeit 
aus  dem  spinozistisch-goetheanischen  Begriff  einer  qualitativ  schöpferischen 
Natur,  natura  naturans)^  Insbesondere  in  der  klinischen  Zusanimenarbeit 
mit  dem  Gestaltpsychologen  Adhemar  Gelb**  setzte  Goldstein  fort,  was 
Ludwig  Edinger  1910  mit  Max  Wertheimer  und  der  Gründung  eines  »Psy- 
chologischen Vereins«  auf  theoretischem  Gebiet  begonnen  hatte. *^  Gold- 
steins Initiative,  theoretische  und  klinische  Neurologie  mit  der  medizinischen 
Psychologie  im  Neurologischen  Institut  organisatorisch  zusammenzuführen, 
suchte  das  interdisziplinär  angelegte  Forschungsprojekt  seines  »Lehrers«  zu 
verwirklichen.*-*  Wissenschaftsexteme  Faktoren,  insbesondere  die  Finanznö- 


•  Kappers  1915.  436. 
Goldslein  [1962],  20  (kursive  Hervorhebungen  von  G.  K.). 


10 

II 

12 


IJ 


Vgl.  Schmidt  1984;  Wiehl  1983. 

Vgl.  Bergius  1962;  Kallmorgen  1936,  119  f.;  Goldslein  1919. 

Die  von  Enusch  (1991,  129  f.)  noch  vermißten  Unierlagen  des  von  Ludwig  Edinger 
begründeten  »»Psychologischen  Vereins«  und  seiner  insgesamt  sechs  Treffen  zwischen 
dem  5.11.1910  und  dem  23.2.1911  konnte  ich  inzwischen  im  Neurologischen  Institut 
auffinden.  Max  Wertheimers  prinzipielles  Ausschlußverhälinis  von  Gestallpsychologie 
und  Psychoanalyse  wird  gegenwärtig  so  nicht  mehr  aufrechterhalten  (Waldvogel  1993. 
36  fO.  Die  Protokolle  vermerken  auch  die  Einladung  von  Hans  Cornelius,  des  akademi- 
schen Philosophie lehrers  von  Max  Horkheimer  und  Theodor  W.  Adorno,  die  dieser 
allerdings  nicht  wahrnahm.  In  Ludwig  Edingers  Sonderdrucksammlung  »Philosophie« 
findet  sich  ein  Exemplar  von  Cornelius  1910  mit  persönlichem  Gruß. 
Goldstein  1918. 114.  Goldslein  [1918a];  Medizinische  Fakultät  Frankfurt  1919  und  1928. 
Vgl.  Kreft  (1996)  sowie  Kreft  et  al.  (1996);  vgl.  auch  Schlote  et  al.  (1995). 


198 


Fundstücke  und  Perspektiven  um  Ludwig  Edinger 

te  der  durch  den  Ersten  Weltkrieg  gezeichneten  StadtJcasse  haben  über  das 
Schicksal  dieses  avantgardistischen  Projekts  entschieden.  Der  1930  einge- 
weihte Neubau  der  Universitätsnervenkiinik  wurde  dem  Psychiater  und  Ge- 
himpathologen  Karl  Kleist  (1879-1960)  unterstellt,  dessen  traditioneller  loka- 
lisationstheoretischer  Ansatz  in  der  Geschichte  der  Himforschung  einen  para- 
digmatischen Gegensatz  zu  dem  Goldsteins  darstellt.'^  In  seinen  Handlungs- 
möglichkeiten beschnitten,  wechselte  Goldstein  zeitgleich  nach  Berlin,  wo  er 
im  jüdischen  Krankenhaus  Moabit  eine  eigene  Neurologische  Abteilung  er- 
öffnete: »In  this  way  the  vision  of  Ludwig  Edinger  became  a  reality.«^ 

,  Bereits  1918  sah  Goldstein  die  Relevanz  seiner  Forschungen  für  die  So- 
ziologie, die  er  in  einem  Beitrag  zu  den  »Studien  über  Autorität«  des,  1933 
ebenfalls  emigrierten  Frankfurter  Instituts  für  Sozialforschung  skizzierte. ^^ 
Dessen  »Spiritus  rector«.  Max  Horkheimer,  war  in  den  frühen  1920er  Jah- 
ren Teilnehmer  an  Goldsteins  Veranstaltungen  über  »Himverietztenpsy- 
chologie«.*^  Am  Ende  seines  dabei  geführten  Notizheftes  »Ballet  de  lan- 
gage«^^  (Sprachballett)  findet  sich  die  folgende  Handzeichnung. 


.    >5s-si' 


■HA>i  u(Jh 


»Freud  nach  dieser 
Vorlesung.  Sehr  schön« 
(Max  Horkheimer) 


'*  Volk  [1994];  Eulner  [1962],  20  u.  30;  Clarke  1973.  1 16  ff. 

•*  Goldstein  1967.  149. 

*'  Goldsiein  [1918a];  Goldstein  1936. 

"  Bergius  1962,  360. 

'•  Max  Horkheimer  Archiv  VII  10. 


199 


Gerald  Kreft 

Anläßlich  des  70.  Geburtstages  von  Kurt  Goldstein  brachte  Max  Hork- 
heimer  1948  seine  freundschaftliche  Verbundenheit  zum  Ausdruck: 

»Von  dieser  Periode  an  (...)  habe  ich  nicht  aufgehört,  Sie  zu  den  Lehrern  und 
menschlich  nahe  stehenden  Geistern  zu  zählen,  denen  ich  am  meisten  verdanke. 
Ihnen  wird  das  wohl  nicht  so  bewußt  gewesen  sein,  denn  ich  war  ja  kein 
Student  an  Ihrer  Fakultät  und  unsere  Fächer  schienen  sich  nur  oberflächlich  zu 
berühren.  Aber  es  gehört  gerade  zu  den  Dingen,  die  ich  durch  Sie  erfahren 
habe,  daß  die  tiefe  Versenkung  in  eine  spezielle  Disziplin  sich  wohl  mit  dem 
Willen  verträgt,  die  Grenzen,  die  sie  von  anderen  trennt,  zu  überwinden.  Wenn 
es  auch,  seit  den  ersten  Begegnungen,  so  geblieben  ist,  daß  wir  uns  nur  zuwei- 
len geü-offen  haben,  so  hat  uns  doch,  wenn  ich  recht  fühle,  die  Zeit  eher  noch 
einander  genähert  als  auseinander  gebracht.  Die  wissenschaftliche,  aufs  konkrete 
Wissen  bezogene  Gesinnung,  als  deren  Vertreter  Sie  mir  zuerst  erschienen  sind, 
stiftet  ja  in  der  Gegenwart  eine  um  so  solidere  Verbindung,  als  sie  seltener 
wird.«" 

Etwas  von  diesem  Geist  zeichnete  bereits  Ludwig  Edinger  aus,  als  er  1891 
die  erste  große  Tagung  zu  »elektrotherapeutischen  Streitfragen«  initiier- 
te,^°  weist  jedoch  auch  über  seine  Person  hinaus  auf  das  eigentümliche 
kulturpolitische  Klima  im  Wilhelminischen  Frankfurt.^*  Bis  zur  Eröffnung 
der  in  Deutschland  einzigartigen  Stiftungsuniversität  im  Jahre  1914  waren, 
insbesondere  durch  die  großzügigen  Mittel  der  Senckenbergischen  Stiftung, 
ansässige  Mediziner  in  einer  Art  »Frankfurter  Republik  der  Ärzte«  organi- 
siert, einer  lokaispezißschen  Tradition  deutsch-jüdischer  Subkultur}^ 
Anläßlich  jenes  organisationsgeschichtlichen  Auftakts  der  Psychoanalyse 
in  Frankfurt  personifizierte  Kurt  Goldstein  somit  Identität  und  Differenz 
der  sich  bildenden  »geistigen  Linken«"  im  Frankfurt  der  Weimarer  Re- 
publik mit  dem  liberaldemokratischen  Bürgertum  der  Vorkriegszeit  und 
Ludwig  Edingers  Wissenschaftsprojekt. 


"   Max  Horkheimer  Archiv  II  8.59.  Die  theoriegeschichilich  wie  sysiemaiisch  subkutane 
Bedeutung  des  Gestalunsatzes  für  die  Kritische  Theorie  ist  bislang  Forschungsdesiderat 
geblieben  (Schmid  Noerr  1987.  456  ff.:  Rogler  1986.  85  u.  103;  Korthals  1985.  316  ff.). 
L.  Edinger  ei  al.  1892;  vgl.  Möbius  1893. 
Vgl.  Hansert  1992;  Kümmel  1993;  Friedeburg  1991. 
Mann  1972;  vgl.  Heuberger  et  al.  1988.  175  f. 
Wiggershaus  1986.  129;  vgl.  Schivelbusch  1982. 


20 
21 
22 
2J 


200 


Fundmcke  und  P<:npektiven  um  Lud^vis  Edinger 

II.  Ludwig  Edinger  -  Sigmund  Freud 
Emsl  Schauer  (1905-1965): 

„  d™.  8.«»-..  dl)  Ö.S  N»'»'l°f  ■«•;^^ '"  Ä^  der  Medizin,- 

und  dort  unier  Verschluß  aufbewahrt.« 

..  .e,c.  Bo*,  ^':^^:-s^^s:'^^!^^:^ 

sie^ne  ihre,  ^'-'^^''^^^'^T.frrZ^^S::^  .erschon.-»  A.- 
|,ge  de,  »^''^'^  ""^  ,f  S  i  "sVa.ka..l^  der  Ed,nge«:hen  Son- 
ßerdem  sind  fünf  Artikel  f  reuus  m      p  Abteilungen 

derdrucksammlung  vermerkt.  ^^^^^^^ J^^    ^  f^J^  ^^^^^ 
mit  speziellen  neurologischen  ^rankheitsb  'dern  zugeora 

finden  sich  die  restlichen  \--'^  ^T^ZZl^Z 'i-  ^eit- 

Miszellen  zun,  Then.a  ^^^j^^^-^^^^^^ 

schriftenbestande  der  Bibliothek  ^^ "e  e 

Freuds«.  23  Rezensionen"  sowie  zahlreiche  Aufsatze. 


1985). 
^  Freud  1895d;  Freud  1909. 

ÄS  S-mlung  Ludwig  Edingers  zugesprochen  werden.  • 

»Neurologisches  Ceniralblau«:  1885-1896. 

201 


29 


Gerald  Kreft 

Theorien  diskutieren.  Schließlich  hatte  Freud  noch  1926  in  seiner  »Selbst- 
darstellung« erinnert: 

»Ich  war  ein  ebenso  eifriger  Arbeiter  im  gehimanalomischen  Institut  wie  früher 
im  physiologischen.  Kleine  Arbeiten  über  Faserverlauf  und  Kemursprünge  in 
der  Oblongata  sind  in  diesen  Jahren  entstanden  und  immerhin  von  Edinger  be- 
merkt worden.«^' 

Auf  diesem  Wege  wäre  ein  Eindruck  vom  Umfang  dessen  vermittelt,  was 
Ludwig  Edinger  in  seiner  Bibliothek  von  Namen  und  Werk  des  Wiener 
Kollegen  zugänglich  gewesen  sein  könnte.  Folgt  man  Ellenbergers  Be- 
griffsschema zu  Charakterisierung  der  »präpsychoanalytischen  Periode«  in 
Freuds  Entwicklung,^^  so  sind  -  bis  zum  Jahre  1896,  d.  h.  bis  zum  Er- 
scheinen der  1.  Auflage  der  »Studien  über  Hysterie«  (1895)  bzw.  zahl- 
reicher Rezensionen  -  Freuds  Arbeiten  zur  »mikroskopischen  Anatomie«, 
»klinisch-anatomischen  Neurologie«,  »klinischen  Neurologie«  und  zur 
»Neuroseniehre«  deutlich  repräsentiert."^*^  Das  Gebiet  der  »theoretischen 
Neurologie«,  mithin  ein  »Wendepunkt«  in  Freuds  Entwicklung  von  der 
Medizin  zur  Psychologie,  war  nur  in  drei  Zeitschriftenbesprechungen 
präsent.^  Kein  Hinweis  findet  sich  auf  die  »Kokain-Episode«,  die  als 


JO 


31 


32 


»Neurologisches  Centralblaii«:  1885-1901 
»Centralblatt  für  Nervenheilkunde«:  1905-1909 
»Jahresbericht  Neurologie  und  Psychiaü-ie«:  1901-1907 
»Deutsche  Zeitschrift  für  Nervenheilkunde«:  1891-1895 
»Brain«:  1896 


(9  Rezensionen) 
(7  Rezensionen) 
(4  Rezensionen) 
(2  Rezensionen) 
(1  Rezension) 


Freud  1925d,  36.  Edinger  (1886)  besprach  Freud  1884c.  Freud  1885d  und  Freud  1886b 
sowie  Freud  1886c  (Edinger  1887).  Bei  den  beiden  von  Freud  erinnerten  Arbeiten  zum 
Aufbau  der  Medulla  oblongata  handelt  es  sich  um  Freud  1885d  und  Freud  1886b  (v^l. 
Bemfeld  1951,  168).  Jenes  Freud-Zitat  gab  seinerzeit  den  Anstoß  für  meinen  »marginalen 
Annäherungsversuch«  an  »Ludwig  Edinger  und  Sigmund  Freud«  (Kreft  1989a).  In- 
zwischen lassen  umfangreiche  Veröffentlichungen  (Hirschmüller  1991;  Emisch  1991; 
Reicheneder  1990)  sowie  eigene  Forschungen  im  Rahmen  der  Herausgabe  der  nachge- 
lassenen Autobiographie  Ludwig  Edingers  diese  Thematik  ungleich  detailliener  begreifen. 
Ellenberger  1985,  564  et  passim. 

»Mikroskopische  Anatomie«:  8  Originalarbeilen,  1  Rezension 

»Klinisch-Anatomische  Neurologie«:  4  Originalarbeiten,  1  Rezension 

»Klinische  Neurologie«:  2  Originalarbeiten,  2  Rezensionen 

»Theoretische  Neurologie«:  3  Rezensionen 

»Neurosenlehre«:  7  Originalarbeiten,  2  Rezensionen 

Schoenwald  1954;  Vogel  1956.  285;  vgl.  ders.  1954;  Stengel  1954.  Auf  die  werkge- 
schichtliche Bedeutung  der  Freudschen  Aphasiestudie  (Freud  1891b)  hat  erstmals  Rudolf 
Brun  hingewiesen  (Brun  1936,  203  f.).  Die  Vorstellung  einer  »lokalisatorisch-anatomi- 
schen  Punkt-für-Punkt-Abbildung  der  Körperperipherie  in  der  Hirnrinde«  ist  hier  ersetzt 
durch  die  von  deren  »Repräsentation«  gemäß  ontogenetisch  ausgebildeten  Sprachassozia- 


202 


'^mj 


Funäsiücke  und  Perspektiven  um  Ludwig  Edinger 

Element  der  Freudschen  Zusammenführung  von  medizinisch-naturwissen- 
schaftlichem Diskurs  und  »subjektiver  Erfahrung«"  bedeutsam  ist. 

Auf  der  Ebene  «mikroskopischer  Anatomie«  lobte  Edinger  die  »guten 
Resultate«  der  von  Freud  emwickelten  »Goldfärbemethode«    Zweimal 
zeigten  Freuds  »ganz  auf  eigenen  Untersuchungen  beruhende(n)  Schilde- 
rune(en    )  auf  erfreuliche  Weise  fast  vollkommen(e)«  Übereinstimmungen 
mit  den  von  Edinger  veröffentlichten  Beobachtungen,  wenngleich  einmal 
eine  »wesentlich«  abweichende  Deutung.  Freuds  Mitteilungen  waren  »von 
Wichtigkeit«.  An  der  Arbeit  von  Darkschewitsch  und  Freud  bemerkte 
Edinger  eine  gegenüber  dem  eigenen  Sprachgebrauch  modifizierte  Nomen- 
klatur Von  den  Autoren  beim  Studium  hirnanatomischer  Faserverlaufe 
aufgeworfene  Fragen,  die  sich  der  »Lösung  durch  rein  anatomische  Metho- 
den im  Allgemeinen  zu  entziehen  (scheinen)«^,  erwähnte  Edinger  nicht. 
Möglicherweise  stufte  er  sie  nicht  gleichermaßen  als  grundsätzlich  em.  da 
er  auch  Grenzen  des  von  Freud  Mitgeteilten  bemerkte.'   Sigmund  Freud 
wiederum  anerkannte  1887  die  Autorität  Edingers: 

«Die  letzten  drei  Jahre  haben  uns  mit  drei  Darstellungen  der  Lehre  vom  Ge- 
himb  e  beschenkt,  in  welchen  die  didaktische  Absicht  m  den  Vordergaind 
tritt  Die  er.te  derselben.  Edinger's  >Zehn  Vorlesungen  über  den  Bau  der  ner- 
vöin  Centralorgane,  1885<  ist  ein  kurzer,  aber  vortrefflich  gelungener  Versuch 
wTher  aus  der  Anatomie  des  Centralorgans  alles  dasjemge  hervorhebt,  was 
derzeit  physiologisch  oder  pathologisch  verwertbar  erscheint.« 

Auf  der  Ebene  «theoretischer  Neurologie«  überrascht  die  Besprechung 
Freuds  von  Edingers  Arbeit  »Eine  neue  Theorie  über  die  Ursachen  einiger 
Nervenkrankheiten,  insbesondere  der  Neuritis  und  der  Tabes«,  die  bislang 
ätiologisch  getrennte  Krankheitsbilder  der  nervenärztlichen  Praxis  »unter 
einheitlichen  Gesichtspunkten  zusammenfassen«^'  will.  Freuds  Rezension 
macht  sichtbar,  daß  das  Konzept  einer  »Ergänzungsreihe«  pathogener 


.ionen  (Reicheneder  1991.  314  ff.).  Das  damit  erreichte  funktionell-metaphorische  Ver- 
SI  von. BX.ungen:<  meint  einen  psychophysischen  Parallelismus  demzufoge 
rluedem  physiologischen  Vorgang  ^-n  psychi-her  ems^^^^^^^^  a^.     e^  ", 

Dsvchischen  ein  physiologischer  zu  Grunde  liegt«  (Spehlmann  1953.  36). ^ur  gegen 
Sen  Aph^iediskussion  unter  Beoicksichtung  der  Konzepte  Freuds  und  Goldsterns 

vgl.  Hillert  1.990. 
"  Reicheneder  1991,  107;  vgl.  vom  Scheidt  1989. 
"  Freud  1886b;  zitiert  nach  Reicheneder  1991.  58. 

Zitate:  Edinger  1886,  9  u.  11;  Edinger  1887,  126. 

Freud  I887e,  1642. 

Edinger  1893.  89. 

203 


)7 


Gerald  Kreß 

Faktoren  seiner  psychoanalytischen  Applikation  vorangeht  -  sei  es  neurolo- 
gisch, sei  es  philosophisch."*^  Von  hier  aus  erscheint  Edinger  als  ein  wahl- 
verwandter Zeitgenosse  Freuds: 

»Es  verlohne  sich  wohl,  sich  einmal  in  philosophischer  Absicht  mit  dem  The- 
ma: Ätiologie  der  Nervenkrankheiten  zu  beschäftigen.*^  (...)  Man  kann  die 
unbefriedigende  Tatsache,  daß  so  viele  verschiedene  Momente  doch  dieselbe 
Krankheil  produzieren,  verständlicher  machen,  wenn  man  annimmt,  diese 
ätiologischen  Momente  seien  zumeist  indirekt  wirksame,  und  sie  kämen  trotz 
aller  Verschiedenheit  in  einem  ätiologischen  Mittelglied  zusammen,  welches  die 
direkte,  aber  auch  die  spezifische  Ursache  der  Krankheit  isl,^^  (...)  und  was 
Edinger  uns  verspricht  geht  auch  dahin,  uns  eines  dieser  Mittelglieder  aufzu- 
decken, in  dem  die  mannigfaltigen  indirekten  Ätiologien  zusammentreffen«,  die 
sich  für  Edinger  »aus  dem  Funktionieren  des  Nervensystems  herleite(n).  Denn 
die  Funktion  des  Nervengewebes,  behauptet  er  in  Anlehnung  an  Gedankengän- 
ge von  Weigert  und  Roux,  geht  mit  einem  Verbrauch  einher,  der  einen  Ersatz 
fordert  (...)  und  somit  ein  möglicher  Faktor  in  der  Ätiologie  der  Nervenkrank- 
heiten (ist).«^' 

Freuds  Kritik  erkennt  der  Funktion  den  Status  einer  spezifischen  Ursache 
für  die  Ätiologie  der  in  Frage  stehenden  Kranlcheitsbiider  nicht  zu. 

»Wir  können  uns  nur  der  Gelegenheit  freuen,  die  uns  geboten  wurde,  um  uns 
mit  einer  ätiologischen  Anschauung  auseinander  zu  setzen,  welche  offenbar  die 
Schranken  zwischen  der  Ätiologie  der  organischen  Nervenkrankheiten  und 
jener  der  Neurosen  nicht  beachten  wird,  zumal,  wenn  ein  Mann  vom  Range 
unseres  Autors  sich  zum  Vorreiter  einer  solchen  Lehre  macht.«** 

Der  Einfluß  von  Wilhelm  Roux  auf  Freuds  »Auffassung  vom  Seelenleben 
als  einem  Kampfplatz,  auf  dem  ein  Streit  zwischen  verschiedenen  Tenden- 


*  Freud  I905d,  141  f.;  Freud  1916-17.  376;  Ellenberger  1985.  652;  Sulloway  1982.  144. 

'"  Dieses  Selbstverständnis  formulien  eine  bislang  unbemerkte  Kominuiiät  von  »präpsy- 
choanalytischer« und  »psychoanalytischer«  Werkemwicklung  Freuds:  »Seitdem  ich 
begonnen  habe,  mir  die  Tatsachen  der  Psychopathologie /;/i//o.so/7/iucA  zurechtzulegen  ...« 
(Freud  1905c,  165).  Vgl.  Nagl  et  al.  1990;  Vetter  et  al.  1989. 

*'  Exakt  im  Sinne  dieser  »speziflschen  Ursache«  begriff  Freud  1895  die  ätiologische 
Wertigkeit  der  Sexualität  an  der  Entstehung  neurotischer  Krankheitsentitäten  (Freud 
1895f,  338;  Sulloway  1982,  143  ff.).  In  den  »Studien  über  Hysterie«  stand  diese  dynami- 
sche Auffassung  der  Hysterie  als  Verdrängung  sexueller  Impulse  (»Abwehrhysterie«) 
noch  neben  der  genuin  Breuerschen  Theorie  eines  verändenen  Bewußtseinszustands 
(»Hypnoidhysterie«),  der  für  die  inadäquate  Reaktion  auf  ein  psychisches  Trauma 
verantwortlich  gemacht  wurde. 

■"  Freud  1895a,  27  f.  (kursive  Hervorhebungen  von  G.  K.). 
**  ebd. 


204 


Fundslücke  und  Perspektiven  um  Ludwig  Edinger 

zen  ausgetragen  wird«,  ist  in  der  Sekundärliteratur  sichtbar  geworden.^^ 
Der  paradigmatische  Zusammenhang  zwischen  Edingers  Aufbrauchtheone 
und  seiner  Konzeption  von  vergleichender  Hirnantomie  und  Psycholog.e. 
der  im  Be^f  der  Funktion  zentriert  ist.  wurde  bislang  n.cht  bemerkt. 
Die  Edinger  und  Freud  gemeinsame  Bezugnahme  auf  Roux  macht  deut- 
lich daß  beide  die  Modernisierung  des  Evolutionsparadigmas  mitvollzogen 
haben  ^'  Beide  suchten  auf  der  Ebene  »mikroskopischer  Anatom.e«  den 
von  Ernst  Haeckel  als  »biogenetisches  Grundgesetz«  refomiuherten  Zti- 
sammenhang  einer  ontogenetischen  Rekapitulation  phylogenetischer  Ent- 
wicklungsstadien zu  stützen.«  Der  Schritt  von  Roux.  den  darwinistischen 
Selektionsgedanken  vom  »Kampf  ums  Dasein«  zwischen  Lebewesen  als 
»Kampf  der  Teile  im  Organismus«  ins  Innere  selbstregulat.v  funktionie- 
render Organismen  zu  verlegen.-  mündete  bei  Edinger  und  Freud     m 
z^ei  methodologisch  eigenständige  Forschungsprogramn^e  mnerhalbetn^ 
überfireifenden  Diskursuniversums  biopsychischer  Vorlaußgkeif  ,  dessen 
Spuren  an  funktional  äquivalenten  Theorieelementen  gesichert  werden  kon- 

"'"ßeide  glaubten  (noch),  in  irgendeiner  fernen  Zukunft  werde  der  Fort- 
schritt des  Wissens  Himanatomie  und  Psychologie  »einen«  (Edinger)  bzw. 
die  von  der  Psychoanalyse  angenommenen  »psychischen  Kräfte«,  ihrerseits 
Substitute  »chemischer  Stoffe«,  könnten  einmal  »auf  den  Boden  organi- 
scher Träger  gestellt  werden«  (Freud)."  In  den  »Studien  über  Hysterie« 
verstand  Freud  die  psychologischen  Implikationen  seiner  therapeutischen 


«  Brandeil  1970  59  et  passim;  Sulloway  1982.  161  f..  382  u.  41 1;  H.rschmul ier  1978.  291. 

-  !S^to.T^e  allein  getrieben  wäre  eine  sterile  Wissenschaft.  Erst  in  dem  Momente,  wo 
m,rr^^a2e  nach  dfm  Verhälmis  der  anatomischen  Stniktur  zu  der  Funkuon  auf  wirft. 
Tewi^t  SKn  AllTst^ktur  ist  ja  nur  durch  die  Funktion  entstanden  und  erhalten« 
(Edinger,  zitiert  nach  Emisch  1991,  200).  ,,,„,.      ^      looi  8i  ff 

"  Edineer  1897-  Freud  1916-1917,  376;  Freud  1940a.  111.  Vgl.  We.nganen  1993.  8 1  ff^ 

«  SLder  .991.  39  et  passim;  Spatz  1959.  48-52.  Vgl.  Haeckel  1908,  49;  Peters  1980; 

«  Zurp!!b?embestand  der  Emwicklungsmechanik  im  evolutionsmeoretischen  Denken  bis 
tozur  »AurpQiese«  organismischer  Systeme  im  Diskurs  des  gegenwart.gen  »rad.kalu, 
IConstAikiivismus«  vgl.  Weingarten  1993,  246  ff. 

»  ZuTk  lität  einer' meu^psychologischen  Interpretation  ^^er  Fsjc  -"a  y-^- ^^^^ 
Perspektive  einer  Theor.e  autopoietischer  Systeme  vgl.  Brocher  et  al.  1986  und  S.es     al. 

«   Difzirkuläre  Struktur  dieser  Reflexionsfigur  antizipierter  Identität  hat  Gerd  Kimmerle  in 
?rSn  Ari;^'!"  zur  Metapsychologie  der  Psychoanalyse  themaus.ert  (K-mmerle 
'     1990;  dere.  1989;  ders.  1988;  ders.  1986). 
«  Freud  1914c.  144.  Vgl.  Krefl  1989a.  29  f. 

205 


Gerald  Kreft 

Innovationen  in  physiologisch-energetischen  Begriffen.  Noch  1917  erhoffte 
er  sich  von  der  Biochemie  ein  Kriterium,  das  die  allgemeine  Anerkennung 
der  von  ihm  postulierten  sexuellen  Natur  infantiler  Organlust  sichern 
würde."  Korrespondierend  konzipierte  Edinger  ein  komplementäres  Ver- 
hältnis zwischen  vergleichender  Neuroanatomie,  energetischer  Neurophy- 
siologie  und  beobachtender  Tierpsychologie.  Von  hier  aus  anerkannte  er 
die  Existenz  »unbewußten  Denkens«: 

»Es  denkt  ständig  in  uns,  auch  ohne  daß  wir  es  wollen  und  wissen,  und  infolge 
dieses  unbewußten  Denkens  vollzieht  sich  ein  großer  Teil  unserer  Handlungen 
gleichfalls  ohne  Bewußtsein. «^^ 

Dabei  gelang  Edinger  ein  Durchbruch  mit  der  »Systematisation  phyloge- 
netisch verschieden  alter  Strukturen  in  einer  neuen  Synorganisation  mit  sei- 
ner Unterscheidung  von  Alt-  und  Neuhim  (Palaeo-  und  Neoencephalon)«, 
deren  Bedeutung  für  seine  vergleichende  Psychologie  eingehend  dargestellt 

wurde.^^ 

Freuds  Fortentwicklung  auf  der  Ebene  der  »Neurosenlehre«  war  für  die 
Entstehung  der  Psychoanalyse  entscheidend.  Dabei  spielten  schöpferische 
Irrtümer  oder  Teilwahrheiten  eine  heuristische  Rolle  und  rechtfertigen  es, 
Freud  nach  der  Seite  seiner  Theoriebildung  als  »Kryptobiologen«  zu  cha- 
rakterisieren, dessen  »eigene  biologische  Ansätze  schließlich  (...)  von  den 
zunehmend  komplizierter  werdenden  psychoanalytischen  Darstellungen 
(unkenntlich  gemacht)«  wurden.^ 

»Was  Freud  während  seiner  berühmten  >Selbslanalyse<  entdeckte  (...)  war  nicht 
die  infantile  Sexualität  per  se  sondern  eher  die  größtenteils  persönliche  -  das 
heißt  autobiographische  Bestätigung  von  Fließ*  früheren  Entdeckungen«,  wobei 
die  Transposition  des  »biogenetischen  Grundgesetzes«  in  die  Stufenfolge  inf.an- 
tiler  Sexualentwicklung  »vielleicht  die  am  wenigsten  beachtete  Quelle  eines  a- 
priori-Einflusses  in  der  gesamten  psychoanalytischen  Theorie  dar(siellt).«" 

Diese  lineare  Bewegung  bricht  sich  einerseits  mit  der  Einbindung  von 
Sexualität  in  bereits  bestehende  intersubjektive  Strukturen  (ödipale  Trian- 
gulierung).  die  deren  individuelle  Entwicklung  ihrerseits  präformieren; 
andererseits  konstituieren  die  mit  der  Pubertät  einsetzenden  nachträglichen 


"  Freud  1916-17.  331  ff. 

"  Edinger  1895a.  122. 

"  Starck  1985.  114;  Emisch  1991.  141  ff. 

^  Sulloway  1983.  45  f.:  vgl.  ders.  1982. 

"  Sulloway  1983.  83  (kursive  Hervorhebung  von  G.  K.). 


206 


Funästücke  und  Perspektiven  um  Ludwig  Edinger 

Bedeutungsumschreibungen  infantiler  Phantasien  ein  reflexives  antluo- 
LloS^  Strukturverhlltnis  (Zweizeitigkeit  der  Sexualentwicklung),  da 
ÄS  unhintergehbaren  Symbolisierungsprozeß  vermittelt 

''' Freuds  singulare  Originalität  besteht  in  der  Art,  me  er  neurophysiolo- 
JrZgZ^i^  Begriffe  wie  »Bahnung«  oder  .Widerstand <<^n  de 

yc^^^^^^^^^^  Malyse  von  »Abwehr«  und  >>Ubertragung<<  ut.^^^^^^ 

eCem  ef.Verdrängung«  und  >>Unterdrückung«  semantisch  un^^^^^^ 
ch  eden  in  seine  Theorie  der  anschlichen  Sexualuat.^^^^^^^^^^ 
Freud  das  von  ihm  thematisierte  Unbewußte  in  einem  ^f^^''''^^^^^ 
Kontext  Von  hier  aus  erscheint  seine  »Selbstanalyse«  als  ein  Prozeß 
'S  n  sterben,.,  als  s*«ssiv„  Zerfall  In  das  "^-'^J^^J^^^, 
eck«  von  Arzt.  Patient  und  Krankheit  eingepaßter  Großen-  und  AHmach^ 
oha^taL  in  dem  Freud  seine  Identität  als  Psychoanalytiker  und  em  »vol- 
phantas^n  in  d^^^^^  des  Alltags«  entwickelte.^  Kognitiver  Ausgangs- 

LTaL  b  r.^^  un™4«che.  Jed«  Mä^ng  und  Beschreibung 
Tou  nde  Ta^^^^^^  des  Bewußtseins«^.  Dieses  Problembewußtsein  teilte 
er  r^^^^^^^^^^^^^  cler  sein  naturwissenschaftliches  Vorgehen,..,- 

matisch  rechtfertigte: 

.Wl,b.b.„.el„A.n«da™.*.^^^^^^^^^^ 

System  geleisteten  Arbeit  dem  Trager  >bewuiJt 

mi<^^<^^^^oxz^^um^^r.^''''''^^''''ZZZonZiZ^^r.  will,  die 
nicht  erlaubt  sein,  wenn  er  einen  -«''"«"  f^^l^f^^^^^^^^ 

ErgebnissederErke^^^^^^^^^^ 

rstudferrdaß  w.r  Gesetzmäß.gkeiten  in  ihnen  nachweisen  lernen.« 


»  Vgl  Kerz-Rühling  1993;  Erdheim  1993;  Kimmerle  1989;  Gekle  1989. 

:  ^EimT/sz'sV.^m  u.  24  «.;  vgl.  Er..e.m  1989;  aazu;  Kreft  1982  und  Kreft  1989. 

*'  Freud  1940a.  79.  r  v\ 

"  Edinger  1900,  562  f.  (kursive  Hervorhebungen  von  ü.  KJ. 

207 


Gerald  Krefi 

Erkenntnistheoretisch  schloß  Edinger  sich  hier  u.a.  der  Einebnung  des 
Dualismus  von  geistigen  und  körperlichen  Vorgängen  durch  Ernst  Mach'^ 
an.  In  einem  solcherart  reformulierten  psychophysischen  Parallelismus,  der 
sich  »auf  das  Verhältnis  zweier  Empfindungsreihen  reduziert,  die  in  funk- 
tionaler Abhängigkeit  zueinander  stehen«^,  bejahte  Edinger  die  Eigen- 
ständii^keit  einer  rein  psychologischen  Therapie  und  trennte  die  Gruppe  der 
traumatischen  Neurosen  bzw.  die  Hysterie  »scharf«^^  von  organisch  be- 
dingten Nervenkrankheiten.  Im  Anschluß  an  Charcot,  bei  dem  Edinger 
1883,  knapp  zwei  Jahre  vor  Freud,  in  Paris  hospitiert  hatte,  formulierte  er: 
»Die  Entstehung  der  traumatischen  Neurose  ist  einstweilen  nur  psycholo- 
gisch zu  analysieren.«^ 

Von  hier  aus  bezog  sich  Edinger  auch  auf  Freuds  Psychoanalyse.  Auf 
dem  Deckblatt  des  bereits  erwähnten  Exemplars  der  2.  Auflage  der  »Stu- 
dien über  Hysterie«  findet  sich  der  Stempelaufdruck:  »Zur  gefl.  Bespre- 
chung«; darunter  ein  zweiter  Stempel:  »Deutsche  Medizinische  Wochen- 
schrift. Prof.  Dr.  J.  Schwalbe.  Berlin  W.«.  Offenbar  erhielt  Ludwig  Edinger 
dieses  Buch  als  Rezensionsexemplar  zugeschickt  -  ein  bemerkenswerter 
Vorgang,  vermittelt  er  doch  einen  Eindruck  von  den  Kompetenzen,  die  ihm 
seine  Zeitgenossen  zusprachen.  Angesichts  der  in  Berlin  gerade  stattfin- 
denden Etablierung  der  Psychoanalyse^^  dürften  diese  nicht  allein  fachli- 
cher, sondern  auch  bemfsstrategischer  Natur  gewesen  sein.  In  der  Ausgabe 
vom  16.9.1909  der  genannten  Zeitschrift  findet  sich  die  folgende  Anzeige: 

>\Jos.  Breuer  und  Signu  Freud  (Wien).  Studien  über  Hysterie.  Zweite  Aunage. 
Leipzig  und  Wien.  F.  Deulicke  1909.  269  S.,  7,00  M.  Ref.  Edinger  (Frankfun 

a.  M.). 

In  neuem,  unverändertem  Abdrucke  liegt  hier  die  Arbeit  vor,  von  der  Freuds 
Studien  über  so  mancherlei  psychologische  Vorgänge  ausgehen.  Sie  ist  seiner- 
zeit hier  ausführlich  besprochen  worden;  daß  ein  Neudruck  nötig  wurde,  be- 
weist, wie  lebhaft  das  Interesse  der  Ärzteschaft  an  diesem  lehn-eichen  Buche 
ist.« 

Edingers  »Rezension«  enthält  eine  Fehlleistung.  Die  »Studien«  wurden 
»seinerzeit«  in  der  Deutschen  Medizinischen  Wochenschrift  nicht  »bespro- 


"  Vgl.  Kaiser  1982;  Driesch  1977.  39  f.  u.  116  ff. 

**  Hildebrandt  1985.  152. 

**  Schuster  1901a.  753  f. 

**  Edinger  1900b.  64  f.  Vgl.  Emisch  1991.  63;  Sulloway  1982.  58  ff. 

*'  Decker  1971.  461. 

**  Edinger  1909. 


208 


Fundslücke  und  PenpekUven  um  Ludwig  Edinger 

chen«  Allerdings  findet  sich  dort  der  Bericht  einer  Sitzung  des  Medizini- 
shen  Vereins  in  Greifswald  vom  4.5.1901,  auf  der  ein  Fall  von  Hysterie 
mit  »direkter«  sexueller  Ätiologie  im  Hinblick  auf  die  »bekanntlich«  von 
Freud  und  Breuer  vertretenen  Ansichten  diskutiert  wurde:  Die  grundsatzli- 
che  Anerkemiung  der  psychologischen  Bedeutung  der  >>kathart^^^^^^ 
Methode«  unterliege  »gewissen  Einschränkungen«,  auf  die  bereits  Warda 
aufmerksam  gemacht  habe.^'  Dessen  Arbeit  hatte  in  ungewoluil icher  Aus- 
führlichkeit (30  Seiten)  den  Verlauf  einer  »kathartischen  Behandlung« 
dargestellt  und  findet  sich  als  Sonderdruck  in  Ludwig  Edingers  Samm- 
lung ''  Warda  galt  nicht  nur  den  Zeitgenossen  als  seltener  Befürworter 
der  »kathartischen  Methode«,  sondern  erscheint  inzwischen  als  »früher 
Protoanalytiker«.^»  Bis  zum  Zeitpunkt  des  Referates  Edingers  waren  in 
jener  Zeitschrift  überhaupt  erst  zwei  Arbeiten  Freuds  kun.  besprochen  bzw. 
eine  Verteidigung  Freuds  durch  C.  G.  Jung  angezeigt  worden. 

Vor  dem  Hintergrund  der  skizzierten  Problemlage  läßt  sich  an  Edingers 
zeittypischer  »Yes,  but ...  reaction«^^  eine  zweifache  Ambivalenz  extrapo- 
lieren Zi^m  einen  verstand  er  sein  Interesse  an  den  »Studien«  als  professio- 
nelles und  stellte  sich  in  den  Kontext  aufgeschlossener,  die  psychoanalyti- 
sche Entwicklung  Freuds  aufmerksam  verfolgender  Arzte,  die  zwar  deri 
Einfluß  psychischer  Erkrankungsursachen  anerkannten,  nicht  unbedingt 
aber  den  Interpretationsrahmen  einer  spezifisch  sexuellen  Ätiologie  teilten. 
Edinger  stand  damit  in  einer  wirkungsgeschichtlich  eher  n^ar&i"^^  S^^^^^f ' 
nen  Rezeptionslinie  der  »Studien«,  in  der  die  »kathartische  Methode« 
Breuers  durchaus  in  ihrem  Eigenwert  begriffen  und  weiterentwickelt 

"""'zum  anderen  signalisiert  die  -  etwa  zwischen  1908  und  1913  erfolgte 
-  Niederschrift  einer  Autobiographie  den  Versuch  Ludwig  Edingers  m 
einen  Prozeß  lebensgeschichtlichen  Erimiems  mit  durchaus  selbstanalyti- 
schen Ambitionen  einzutreten. 


^   Wesiphal  1901.  177  f. 

'«   Warda  1900. 

"    Ralmann  1904  346;  Decker  1977.  120  u.  131. 

"  JrdTJlb  (D  .  med.  Sehr.  1904.  Ref.  Ziehen);  Freud  1905a  (Dt.  r.ed.  Wschr^  190. 
hreua  lyu  D  vui.  „        i^i^hre  Freuds.  Münch.  med.  Wochenschr.  No.  47.  Ver- 

Sut  t  ll^F^^euTgeTenü^er  Angriffen  Aschaffenburgs  in  No.  37  ders.  Wo- 
chenschrifi  (Dt.  med.  Wschr.  1906). 

'^     T\f^rVt^r  1977    96  r^  •    I 

SSSmüller'  1978.  256-259.  Zur  gegenwärtigen  Entdeckung  unausgeschöpfter  Potem.ale 
im  »Urbuch  der  Psychoanalyse«  vgl.  Grubrich-Simms  1995.  JU  ii. 

209 


74 


Gerald  Kreft 

»Einmal  will  ich  meinen  Kindern  erzählen,  wie  es  ihrem  Vater  ergangen,  dann 
aber  -  und  das  ist  der  Zweck,  der  mir  heute  näher  liegt  -  möchte  ich  [zu]  er- 
mitteln suchen,  wie  ich  geworden  bin,  was  auf  mich  eingewirkt  und  wie  sich 
ÖQT  ganze  Mensch  gebildet  hat.«^^ 

Ludwig  Edingers  »Erinnerungen«  stehen  in  mehrfachen  Traditionszusam- 
menhängen; zunächst  als  jüdische,  dann  als  ärztliche  Autobiographie.^^ 
Weiterhin  knüpfen  sie  an  die  »Seelennaturkunde«  des  18.  und  19.  Jahrhun- 
derts an,  in  der  die  »Autobiographie  als  Quelle  der  Erkenntnis  des  ganzen 
Menschen«  galt.^^  Insbesondere  Goethe,  dessen  Autobiographik  als  Medi- 
um von  Wissenschaftshistoriographie  und  Anthropologie  versuchte,  »Natur 
und  Geschichte  in  der  Form  zu  vermitteln«,  dem  »seine  wissenschaftliche 
>Produktion<  unabtrennbar  von  seinem  >Lebensgange<  war«,^*  stand  Lud- 
wig Edinger  wohl  vor  Augen,  als  er  seinen  »Erinnerungen«  den  Titel 
»Mein  Lebensgang«  gab.  Darin  bekennt  er  die  bis  zu  symbiotischen  Ver- 
schmelzungserlebnissen reichende  Identifikation,  die  »Liebe,  die  ich  zu 
ihm  [Goethe]  gefaßt  (...),  so  sehr,  daß  ich  sehr  oft  meine  eigenen  Gedan- 
ken aus  ihm  heraus  oder  in  ihn  hinein  lese«.  Mit  Goethe  beklagte  er,  »daß 
man  nirgend [s]  zugeben  wollte,  daß  Wissenschaft  und  Poesie  vereinbar 
seien,  daß  beide  sich  freundlich  zu  beiderseitigem  Vorteil  auf  höherer 
Stelle  gar  wohl  begegnen  könnten«^'.  Eine  eingehende  Interpretation  der 
»Erinnerungen«  Edingers  hätte  zu  zeigen,  inwieweit  seinen  »Bildungs- 
roman  (...)  der  Betrachtung  des  Selbst  als  einer  ^/cA  ennvickelnden  Einheit 
in  einer  sich  entwickelnden  Welt«  -  durchaus  goetheanisch  -  »geheime 
Brüche,  Verzeiflungen  und  Nachdenklichkeiten  begleiten«.^ 

Zu  einem  sukzessiven  Zerfall  seiner  Identifikationen  mit  den  gesell- 
schaftlich anerkannten  Rollen  des  erfolgreichen  Grundlagenforschers  und 
Arztes  ist  es  in  Edingers  Autobiographie  nur  ansatzweise  gekommen. 
Gleichwohl  umkreist  auch  seine  wiederkehrende  Qualifizierung  von  le- 
bensgeschichtlichen  Erlebnissen  als  »erstmals«  durchaus  den  neuralgischen 
Punkt  des  individuellen  Unbewußten  bzw.  der  eigenen  Pathologie:  »Da- 


75 


76 


Edinger,  zitiert  bei  Emisch  1991,  12  f.  (kursive  Hervorhebungen  von  G.  K.). 
Richards  1979.  »Weder  die  ärztliche  Selbstbiographie  im  ganzen,  noch  deren  Anfänge  in 
der  Renaissance  sind,  soweit  ich  sehe,  bisher  Gegenstand  eingehender  Untersuchung  ge- 
wesen« (Kümmel  1983,  116). 

Pfoienhauer  1987.  5  (kursive  Hervorhebung  von  G.  K.). 
Koranyi  1984,  257  u.  1 1  ff.  (kursive  Hervorhebung  von  G.  K.). 
Edinger  [1908-1913]  (kursive  Hervorhebung  von  G.  K.).  Vgl.  Jamme  1984;  Mandelkow 
1980.  210  ff. 
"  Maziisch  1972.  263  f.;  Pfotenhauer  1987.  23. 


210 


77 


7g 


7V 


Funds tücke  und  Perspektiven  um  Ludwig  Edinger 

mals  [1903]  war  ich  zum  erstenmal  in  meinem  Leben  nervös«.^'  Sicher- 
lich hebt  die  szenische  Konkretheit  der  Edingerschen  »Erinnerungen«  die 
von  Freud  radikal  bezeichnte  Grenze  dieser  literarischen  Gattung  nicht  auf: 

»Eine  psychologisch  vollständige  und  aufrichtige  Lebensgeschichte  würde  aber 
soviel  Indiskretionen  über  Familie,  Freunde  und  Gegner,  meist  noch  lebend, 
erfordern  -  bei  mir  wie  bei  jedem  anderen  -  daß  sie  sich  glatt  ausschließt.  Was 
alle  Autobiographien  wertlos  macht,  ist  ja  ihre  Verlogenheit.«" 

Gleichwohl  läßt  sich  das  von  Edinger  nachgelassene,  umfangreiche  persön- 
liche Werk  als  erhellende  Darstellung  der  Binnenperspektive  jüdischer 
Assimilationshoffnungen  und  (medizin-)historisches  Dokument  eines  kul- 
turellen Unbewußten^^  dechiffrieren,  das  als  funktionales  Äquivalent  zur 
Freudschen  »Selbstanalyse«  den  beide  übergreifenden  Diskurszusammen- 
hang komplettiert. 


in.  Familie  Edinger  -  Bertha  Pappenheim 

Die  informelle  Vorgeschichte  der  Psychoanalyse  in  Frankfurt  ist  mit  dem 
Aufweis  des  Ludwig  Edinger  und  Sigmund  Freud  übergreifenden  Diskurs- 
zusammenhanges sowie  eines  auch  aus  Ludwig  Edingers  interdisziplinärem 
Wissenschaftsprojekt  resultierenden  Interesses  Kurt  Goldsteins  an  der 
Psychoanalyse  nicht  erschöpft.  Darüber  hinaus  bestanden  verwandtschaftli- 
che Beziehungen  der  Familie  Edinger  zu  Bertha  Pappenheim,  jener  von 
Josef  Breuer  von  Dezember  1880  bis  Juli  1882  behandelten  »Anna  0.«  der 
»Studien  über  Hysterie«  (1895).  Bertha  Pappenheim  war  eine  Cousine 
zweiten  Grades  von  Anna  Edinger  (1863-1929),  der  Gattin  Ludwig  Edin- 


"'    Edinger  [1908-1913]  (Ludwig  Edinger- Archiv). 

Brief  Sigmund  Freuds  an  Eduard  Bernays  vom  10.8.1929  (Freud  1960a.  387), 


i2 


«1 


Der  hier  verwendete  Begriff  des  »kulturellen  Unbewußten«  markiert  einen  Knotenpunkt 
disparater  Diskussionssiränge:  Nichtidentitäien  von  psychoanalytisch-individuellem,  kultu- 
rellem und  gesellschaftlichem  Unbewußtem  notierte  Schmidt  (1970,  257,  ders.  1976. 
104):  Foucaults  Projekt  einer  »Archäologie«  verstand  sich  als  Enthüllung  unbewußter 
StAJkturen  epochaler,  kulturspezifischer  Diskurse  (Frank  1984,  196-236,  vgl.  Karpenstein- 
Eßbach  1995);  Adorno  (1955)  formulierte  das  Verhälmis  von  Psychoanalyse  und  Soziolo- 
gie dialektisch,  Devereux  (1972)  komplementaristisch.  Angesichtes  dieses  Problembe- 
stands erecheinen  Gesellschaft,  Kultur  und  Individuum  in  einer  »triangulierten  Unschärfe- 
relalion«  (Kreft  1988,  53  f.).  Vgl.  Literaturangaben  in  Anmerkung  60. 

211 


Gerald  Krcfl 

gers.*^  Die  Schwiegertochter  Ludwig  und  Anna  Edingers.  die  promovierte 
Historikerin  Dora  Edinger  (1890-1977).  gehörte  dem  von  Bertha  Pappen- 
heim begründeten  »Jüdischen  Frauenbund«  an  und  war  deren  maßgebliche 
erste  Biographin.*^  Im  folgenden  soll  ihr  weitgehend  unerschlossener 
Nachlaßt  unter  der  Fragestellung  herangezogen  werden,  ob  sich  daraus 
Hinweise  auf  die  Vorgeschichte  der  Psychoanalyse  in  Frankfurt  ergeben. 
Im  Jahre  1953  erschien  der  erste  Band  der  Freud-Biographie  von  Emest 
Jones.  In  einer  Anmerkung  lüftete  er  das  Pseudonym  von  »Fräulein  Anna 
O.«,  deren  Behandlung  durch  Josef  Breuer  ihm  als  »einer  der  Ausgangs- 
punkte der  Psychoanalyse«  galt: 

»Da  sie  die  eigentliche  Entdeckerin  der  kaihanischen  Methode  war,  verdient  ihr 
wirklicher  Name  Bertha  Pappenheim  (17.  Februar  1859  bis  28.  Mai  1936)  hier 
Erwähnung.«*^ 

Jüdische  Kreise  erfuhren  von  Jones'  Buch  durch  die  kenntnisreiche  Be- 
sprechung Wilfred  C.  Hulses  im  New  Yorker  »Aufbau«  vom  29.1.1954: 

»Anna  0.  wurde  schließlich  von  ihrer  Muller  nach  deren  Heimatstadt  Frankfurt 
zurückgeholt,  wo  sie  langsam  gesundete  und  in  späteren  Jahren  eine  Führerin 
der  deutschen  Frauenbewegung,  eine  der  Schöpferinnen  der  Sozialfürsorge,  eine 
bekannte  Schriftstellerin  und  Wohltäterin  der  Menschheit  wurde.  Anna  0.,  der 
berühmte  Fall  von  klassischer  Hysterie,  ist  niemand  anderes  als  Bertha  Pappen- 
heim!«" 

Bereits  am  26.2.1954  nahm  der  Rezensent  Stellung  zu  der  »von  Dora 
Edinger  und  andere(n),  die  von  der  Identität  Bertha  Pappenheims  mit  der 
>Anna  0.<  der  Breuer-Freudschen  Hysterie-Arbeilen  ^c/io/2  lange  wußten« 
aufgeworfenen  Frage,  »ob  die  Veröffentlichung  des  Namens  nicht  einen 
Bruch  der  ärztlichen  Schweigepflicht  durch  Dr.  Jones  darstellt«*^  Seit- 


ttS 


86 


•"  Ich  danke  Herrn  M.  Lenarz,  wissenschaftlicher  Mitarbeiter  am  Jüdischen  Museum  in 
Frankfurt  am  Main,  für  seine  engagierte  Hilfe  bei  der  exakten  Rekonstruktion  der 
Verwandschaftsverhältnisse  anhand  Leonhard  1929. 
Vgl.  Feidel-Mertz  1993. 

Es  handelt  sich  um  den  umfangreichen  Briefwechsel,  den  Dora  Edinger  etwa  in  den 
Jahren  1954  bis  1963  während  ihrer  biographischen  Arbeiten  zu  Benha  Pappenheim 
führte.  Dieser  ist  in  einem  Teilnachlaß  Dora  Edingers  enthalten,  der  sich  heule  im 
Jüdischen  Museum  in  Frankfurt  am  Main  befindet. 
Jones  1984.  264  und  266. 
Hülse  1954a,  16. 

Hülse  1954b.  Zu  dieser  »Enthüllung«  vgl.  Heubach  1993,  303  ff;  Hirschmüller  131  f.. 
178;  zur  ärztlichen  Schweigepflicht  vgl.  Fichtner  1994. 


212 


«7 
W 


«y 


Fundstücke  und  Perspektiven  um  Ludwig  Edinger 


>■#• 


■•/ 


•1> 


♦    ••;■»'      ,,;*'' 


^' 


i 


^^•'^. 


-^^L^^ 


V 


«^u> 


v.'ii;'^hi'-'iiii..'' 


•■  vv.. 


r'ä.l 


Hertha  Pappenheim 

Die  Photographie  gehört  zu  den  Beständen  des  Jüdischen  Museums  in  Frankfurt  am 
Main.  Ihre  näheren  Ents'.ehungsunnsiände  sind  nicht  bekannt.  Sie  ähnelt  einem  Bertha 
Pappenheim-Porträt,  das  von  einem  Frankfurter  Hofphotographen  ca.  1905  aufgenom- 
men wurde  (Jensen  1984.  244).  Beide  Male  ist  Bertha  Pappenheim  mit  zusammenge- 
stecktem weißem  Haar  in  einem  vornehmen  schwarzen  Kleid  und  entsprechenden 
Handschuhen  aus  einer  linksseitigen  Perspektive  zu  sehen.  Der  Hintergojnd  wurde  weg- 
retuschiert. Die  hier  veröffentlichte  Photographie  ist  vermutlich  um  1910  entstanden. 


213 


Gerald  Kre/t 

dem  sind  zahlreiche  Publilcationen  zum  Anna  O./Bertha  Pappenheim- 
Komplex  erschienen.^  In  ihnen  erschließen  sich  weitere  Bedeutungs- 
gehalte der  Dekuvrierung  durch  Jones.  Nach  wie  vor  irritiert  die  »Identi- 
tät« einer  der  berühmtesten  Patientinnen  der  Medizingeschichte  mit  einer 
bedeutenden  Repräsentantin  des  europäischen  Judentums  vor  dessen  Ver- 
nichtung durch  den  Nationalsozialismus.  Seriöserweise  wird  inzwischen 
festgehalten,  daß  die  bereits  1954  erwartete  »tiefenpsychologische  Biogra- 
phie (...),  die  unter  Benutzung  alles  nun  zur  Verfügung  stehenden  Materials 
(...)  uns  eine  neue  und  bessere  Einsicht  in  die  Höhen  und  Tiefen  mensch- 
licher Entwicklung  geben  wird«,  bislang  nicht  vorliegt.'*  Für  Dora  Edin- 
ger.  der  es  darum  ging,  »daß  Bertha  Pappenheim  nicht  nur  als  >Anna  0.< 
fortlebt«'^,  war  dies  auch  unmöglich,  »since  there  is  no  source  material 
whatever  of  the  most  important  period  from  1882  to  1896«'-^. 

Daß  Dora  Edinger  die  »jugendliche  Erkrankung«  Bertha  Pappenheims 
»verschwiegen«  habe,  ist  bloße  Kolportage.'^  Allerdings  kam  sie  erst 
1968  auf  das  1954  von  Hülse  bereits  Angedeutete  zurück: 

»When  she  [B.P.)  was  in  her  early  iwenties  she  suffered  a  serious  breakdown. 
Her  family  knew  about  it  -  it  was  a  cousin  who  informed  Jones.  /  heard  about 
it  from  a  relative  who  was  also  Bertha  Pappenheim's  good  friend,  Louise  Gold- 
schmidl:  my  falher-in-law  Ludwig  Edinger,  Neurologisl,  (1855-1918).  who  was 
a  second  cousin  by  marriage,  later  conßrmed  it.  Bertha  Pappenheim  knew  that 
I  had  been  lold  and  once  showed  me  a  family  chart  her  brother  and  a  cousin 
had  drawn  up,  tracing  numerous  marriages  between  close  relatives  and  a 
number  of  serious  emotional  breakdowns.  Nothing  at  all  was  known  to  her 
friends  and  co-workers,  and  Jones*  unauthorized  disciosure  came  as  a  great 
shock.«'* 


^  Außer  den  in  der  Literaturiisie  genannten  Arbeiten  Dora  Edingers  sind  mir  über  vierzig 
deutsch-  und  englischsprachige  Texte  bekannt,  die  sich  speziell  mit  Anna  OTBertha 
Pappenheim  beschäftigen.  Die  obligatorische  Themaiisierung  dieses  »Falles«  in  der  ein- 
schlägigen Literatur  zur  Entwicklung  der  Psychoanalyse  ist  Legion.  Bislang  existiert  kei- 
ne eigenständige  Aufarbeitung  dieser  Rezeptionsgeschichie.  die  sich  auch  als  Studie  zur 
»wissenschaftlichen  Mythenbildung«  sehr  schön  eignen  würde.  Im  folgenden  wird  auf  die 
Sekundärliteratur  nur  insofern  Bezug  genommen,  als  sie  die  hier  vorgestellten  Qucl- 
lenfunde  unmittelbar  berührt. 

Hülse  1954b.  Vgl.  Jensen  1984,  12;  Heubach  1993.  307.  Zur  aktuellen  Methodendiskus- 
sion vgl.  Röckelein  1993;  Kimmerle  1992;  Kombichler  1987. 
Brief  Dora  Edingers  an  Dr.  Homburger,  4.9.1958. 
Brief  Dora  Edingers  an  Dr.  Max  M.  Stern,  11.9.1959  und  18.2.1960. 
Dick  1993,  306.  Vgl.  Edinger  1958.  181;  Edinger  1959;  Edinger  1963.  12. 
Edinger  1968,  14  f.  (kursive  Hervorhebungen  von  G.  K.). 


VI 


yj 


y4 


ys 


Fundstücke  und  Perspektiven  um  Ludwig  Edinger 

Lucy  Freemann,  deren  romanartige  Biographie  der  Anna  0.  aus  dem  Jahre 
1972  u.  a.  auf  nicht  näher  ausgewiesene  Gespräche  mit  Dora  Edinger 
zurückgeht,  bietet  eine  erweiterte  und  leicht  modifizierte  Version: 

»Einige  Verwandte  Berlha  Pappenheims  wußten,  daß  sie  Anna  O.  war  und  daß 
sie  als  etwa  Zwanzigjährige  einen  >schweren  Zusammenbruch<  erlitten  halle. 
Ludwig  Edinger,  der  mit  einer  Cousine  zweiten  Grades  von  Bertha  Pappenheim 
verheiratet  war,  teilte  das  seiner  Schwiegertochter  Dora  Edinger  mit,  Dora 
EdingQX  fragte  dann  ihre  angeheiratete  Tante,  Louise  Goldschmidt,  ob  es  wahr 
sei,  daß  Bertha  Pappenheim  die  in  Freuds  Buch  >Stüdien  über  Hysterie<  er- 
wähnte Anna  0.  sei.  Ihre  Frage  wurde  von  der  Tante  ohne  weiteres  bejaht. 
Dora  Edinger  erklärt,  Bertha  Pappenheim  habe  gewußt,  daß  sie  informiert  sei. 
Trotzdem  habe  sie  weiter  nichts  bei  ihr  erfahren,  als  daß  sie  ihr  Familienauf- 
zeichnungen  gezeigt  habe  (...)  Dora  Edinger  stellt  fest,  daß  dieses  völlige 
Stillschweigen  über  die  früheren  Jahre  überraschen  niußte,  weil  Bertha  Pappen- 
heim gern  über  sich  selber,  über  ihre  Eltern  und  ihre  Erziehung  gesprochen 
habe.  Sie  vermutet,  daß  dieses  völlige  Verschweigen  ihrer  Analyse  [!]  darauf 
zurückzuführen  sei,  daß  Bertha  Pappenheim  gefürchtet  habe,  man  werde  den 
Vorfall  mißverstehen  und  sie  für  verrückt  oder  zumindest  für  nicht  völlig 
normal  halten.  Sie  habe  sich  auch  schützen  müssen,  weil  man  damals  [!]  anders 
über  diese  Dinge  dachte.«** 

Laut  Freeman  soll  Bertha  Pappenheim  Dora  Edinger  ihre  »Familienauf- 
zeichnungen« gezeigt  haben,  nachdem  diese  »1923  mit  ihrem  Mann  von 
Berlin  nach  Frankfurt  gezogen  war«^^  Diese  Datierung  ist  fragwürdig. 
Fritz  Edinger  (1888-1942)  soll  sich  bereits  1920  als  Nervenarzt  in  Frank- 
furt niedergelassen  haben.'*  Da  Ludwig  Edinger  im  Januar  1918  starb, 
Dora  und  Fritz  Edinger  1914  getraut  wurden  und  sich  wohl  seit  ihrer  Hei- 
delberger Studienzeit  1910/11^  kannten,  müßte  Dora  Edinger  schon  jah- 
relang von  jener  »Identität«  gewußt  haben,  ohne  daß  Bertha  Pappenheim 
reagiert  hätte.  Allerdings  scheint  es  mehrere  derartige  Gespräche  gegeben 
zu  haben,  die  insgesamt  auf  Ludwig  Edinger  zurückverweisen. 

»I  knew  from  my  father  in  law,  [Ludwig  Edinger]  and  B.P.  knew  that  I  knew, 
that  she  was  >Anna  0.<,  but  never  hos  she  ever  made  a  remark  to  any  one  of 
US  concerning  her  experience,  though  she  frequently  lalked  to  me  about  the 
cases  of  psychoses  in  the  family.« '°° 


^  Freemann  1973,  214  f.  (kursive  Hervorhebungen  von  G.  K.). 
Freeman  1973,  249. 


n 


w 


100 


Kalimorgen  1936.  253. 

Universitälsarchiv  Heidelberg,  Brief  vom  5.6.1994. 

Brief  Dora  Edingers  an  Dr.  Stern.  11.10.1959. 


214 


215 


Gerald  Kraft 

Die  private  Bedeutung  der  Erkrankung  Bertha  Pappenheims  und  anderer 
naher  Familienangehöriger,  die  z.  T  ebenfalls  im  Kreuzlinger  Sanatorium 
Bellevue  behandelt  wurden,  mag  Dora  Edinger  davon  abgehalten  haben, 
darüber  weiteres  zu  veröffentlichen.  Eine  Passage  aus  dem  Originalmanu- 
skript ihres  Buches  aus  1963,  die  dort  gestrichen  wurde,  verlängert  diese 
Zusammenhänge  in  Bertha  Pappenheims  frühe  Frankfurter  Jahre  zurück: 

»Es  steht  aber  nach  den  Aussagen  ihrer  späteren  engsten  Mitarbeiterinnen  fest, 
daß  sie  jede  psychoanalytische  Behandlung  eines  unter  ihrer  Fürsorge  siehenden 
Menschen  immer  streng  verboten  hat;  [unter  ihnen  waren  viele  hysterische, 
deren  Beschwerden  sie  kühl  und  klar  durchschaute:  andererseits  hat  sie  ge- 
sprächsweise oft  auf  Fälle  schwerer,  aber  vorübergehender  geistiger  Erkrankung 
unter  Verwandten  der  mütterlichen  Seile  hingewiesen.  1882  [!]  kam  ihre  ver- 
witwete Mutter  mit  ihrer  einzigen  überlebenden  Tochter  nach  Frankfurt  zurück. 
wo  sie  aus  den  eben  genannten  Gründen  in  Bezug  auf  die  Krankheit  Bertha 
Pappenheims  in  ihrer  Familie  Verständnis  finden  konnte].«^^^ 

Es  darf  als  sicher  angenommen  werden,  daß  Bertha  Pappenheim  in  diesem 
Milieu  der  Frankfurter  Angehörigen  ebenfalls  »Verständnis«  fand.  Auch 
hier  waren  »die  >unverstandene<  oder  >unglückliche<  Frau  (...)  hysterische 
Krankheiten  und  >nervöse  Stimmungen<  (...)  eine  häufige  Erscheinung«, 
deren  Zusammenhang  mit  den  sozialen  Veränderungen  in  der  historischen 
Situation  bürgerlicher  Frauen  im  allgemeinem,  jüdischer  Frauen  im  beson- 
deren, eingehend  diskutiert  wurde. *^^  Zu  berücksichtigen  sind  außerdem 
lokale  Spezifika.  Dora  Edingers  Hinweis,  die  »streng  orthodoxe  Familie 
Pappenheim«  habe  innerhalb  des  zeitgenössischen  Wien  »wirklich  in  einer 
anderen  Welt«  gelebt,  bestätigt  ein  neuerer  kulturhistorischer  Zugang: 
»One  must  (...)  consider  the  culture  shock  that  young  Jewish  girls  were 
exposed  to  when  they  got  into  the  social  world  of  Vienna.«'^^  Darüber 
hinaus  pointierte  Dora  Edinger  den  Unterschied  der  Pappenheims  zum  Le- 
bensstil ihrer  Frankfurter  Angehörigen: 

»In  meiner  längeren  Arbeit  [1963]  versuchte  ich  zu  sagen,  wie  international 
Beziehungen  und  Interessen  der  Familie  Goldschmidt  waren.  Die  Frauen  waren 
weltoffen  und  durch  eine  Verwandte  wurde  B.R,  wie  sie  mir  selbst  erzählt  hat. 


Dora  Edinger  [o.  J.j.  5  f.  Bis  auf  geringfügige  stilistische  und  orthographische  Korrektu- 
ren unterschieden  sich  Original manuskript  und  Veröffentlichung  durch  zwei  Streichungen 
und  damit  einhergehende  Textumstellungen. 
'°^  Kaplan  1981.  47  ff.;  Gödde  1994,  42  ff.;  vgl.  Micale  1989. 

'"  Brief  Dora  Edingers  an  Ellen  Jensen.  6.3.1961  (kursive  Hervorhebungen  von  G  K  )• 
Spiegel  1984, 57.  o  -    .. 


216 


Fundstücke  und  Perspektiven  um  Ludwig  Edinger 

zur  ersten  sozialen  Arbeit  herangezogen.  Dort  kam  sie  auch  zuerst  in  Bezie- 
hung zur  Frauenbewegung.«'^ 

Der  genaue  Zeitpunkt  des  Umzugs  der  Bertha  Pappenheim  nach  Frankfurt 
war  Dora  Edinger  seinerzeit  nicht  bekannt.  Erst  Henry  Ellenbergers  Quel- 
lenfunde, die  wesentlich  auf  Dora  Edingers  Hinweise  zurückgingen,  haben 
der  Forschung  neue  Wege  gewiesen.'^^  Zahlreiche  Unstimmigkeiten  zwi- 
schen dem  1895  von  Breuer  in  den  »Studien«  veröffentlichten  Behand- 
lungsbericht und  seinem  Krankenbericht  aus  dem  Jahre  1882  sowie  den 
Akten  aus  den  anschließenden  Sanatoriumsaufenthalten  Bertha  Pappen- 
heims hat  Hirschmüller  dokumentiert.'^  Die  Wiederherstellung  ihrer  Ge- 
sundheit dauerte  »zumindest  bis  zum  Ende  der  achtziger  Jahre« '°^  Ab 
dem  14.11.1888  war  sie  in  Frankfurt  gemeldet.  Aus  ihrer  frühen  Frankfur- 
ter Zeit  sind  nur  fragmentarische  Informationen  überliefert.  Erst  ab  1895 
arbeitete  sie  kontinuierlich  als  Leiterin  eines  jüdischen  Waisenhauses.'^ 

Dora  Edinger  wollte  der  »Gefahr«  begegnen,  »daß  alle  Deutungen 
[von]  Jones:  B.P.'s  Frömmigkeit,  soziale  Interessen  eben  nur  als  Nach- 
wirkung unbeendeter  Analyse  interpretiert  werden«'^  und  kritisierte  die 
Einseitigkeit  zeitgenössischer  psychoanalytischer  Interpretationen: 

»Both  (Roback  and  Karpe)  completely  neglected  the  Jewish  aspect  of  her  story; 
to  orthodox  Judaism  the  family  has  alway  meant  the  one  prescribed  outlet  for 
the  jezer  hora  [Geschlechtstrieb]. «"° 

Demgegenüber  deutete  Richard  Karpe:  »You  are  blocked  probably  by  the 
same  (middleclass)  prejustice  (as  Bertha  Pappenheim).«''' 


^^  Brief  Dora  Edingers  an  Eilen  Jensen,  6.3.1961  (kursive  Hervorhebungen  von  G.  K.);  vgl. 
Jensen  1984.  41  f. 

'"'  Ellenberger  1972.  273  f.  et  passim:  vgl.  ders.  1985.  665  ff. 

'^  Hirechmüller  1978.  131-158  und  348-383;  vgl.  Jensen  1984.  22-40. 

'"'  Hifschmüller  1978.  204. 

'*•  Freemann  1972.  71-79;  Hirschmüller  1978.  158-178;  Jensen  1984.  40-46.  Diese  Quellen- 
lage zu  Bertha  Pappenheims  frühen  Frankfurter  Jahren  verdichtet  Schweighofer  zu  einer 
»Biographie«,  die  »kaum  nennenswerte  Lücken  auf(weist)«  (Schweighofer  1987,  43  ff.) 

^^  Brief  Dora  Edingers  an  Paul  Homburger.  3.10.1958. 

'"^  Brief  Dora  Edingers  an  Dr.  Max.  M.  Siem,  11.10.1959.  Ich  danke  Herrn  Dr.  Wachten, 
wissenschaftlicher  Mitarbeiter  am  Jüdischen  Museum  Frankfurt  am  Main,  für  die  Über- 
setzung des  von  Dora  Edinger  in  aschkenasischer  Dialektvarianie  verwendeten  hebräi- 
schen Begriffs  »jezer  hora«. 

"'  Dora  Edinger  zitiert  aus  einem  an  sie  gerichteten  Brief  Richard  Karpes  in  ihrem  Schrei- 
ben an  Frau  Werner  vom  8.2.1959. 


217 


Gerald  Kreft 

Zu  dieser  Zeil  unterhielt  Dora  Edinger  Kontakt  mit  dem  jüdischen 
Psychoanalytiker  Max  M.  Stern  (1895-1982),  der  Hertha  Pappenheim  noch 
persönlich  gekannt  hatte  und  bereit  war,  einen  Artikel  zu  dem  von  ihr 
geplanten  Buch  beizusteuern.  Ungeachtet  seiner  kritischen  Schlüsse:  daß 
die  »negativen  Folgen  der  ungelösten  inneren  Konflikte«  Bertha  Pappen- 
heims ihre  »Verkennung  allgemein  bedingter  kultureller  Entwicklung[en]« 
und  »Ablehnung  fast  aller  fortschrittliche (n)  Strömungen  ihrer  Zeit«  nach 
sich  zogen,*  *^  begrüßte  Dora  Edinger  seine  Analyse  als  »excellent«**^ 
Seine  Vorgehensweise  sei  »genau  so,  wie  wir  es  uns  wünschen  können, 
unter  voller  Würdigung  von  B.P/s  Persönlichkeit«* '\ 

Stern  nahm  eine  in  der  Pflegesituation  des  sterbenden  Vaters  aufbre- 
chende Gefühlsambivalenz  von  »niedergehaltenen  triebhaften  Regungen« 
-  sowohl  »infantil  (...)  fixierten  sexuellen  (inzestuösen)  (...)  als  auch  (...) 
aggressiven«  -  als  Grundlage  von  Bertha  Pappenheims  Erkrankung  an.**^ 
Gegenüber  der  von  Breuer  1895  veröffentlichten  (und  nicht  zuletzt  aus 
Gründen  der  Anonymisierung  zweideutigen)  Charakterisierung  der  Familie 
Pappenheim  als  »puritanisch«*'^  stellte  Stern  die  ätiologische  Relevanz 
der  spezifisch  jüdischen  Problematik  heraus: 

»Vom  Soziologischen  her  war  ihre  Erkrankung  die  Folge  der  zu  jener  Zeil 
bereits  in  vollem  Gang  befindlichen  Rebellion  gegen  die  bereits  morbid  gewor- 
dene, dem  Untergang  sich  zuneigende  Gesellschaftsform.  Diese  soziologische 
Situation  war  besonders  bedeutsam  für  die  Stellung  der  orthodox  jüdischen  Ge- 
meinschaft. Diese  verdankte  den  revolutionären  Strömungen  ihre  Befreiung  und 
ihre  gesellschaftlich  und  ökonomisch  aufsteigende  Stellung;  andererseits  aber 
hielt  sie  fest  an  der  ihre  Identität  bestimmende [n]  religiösen  Tradition,  die 
durch  sie  ihre  Würde  wieder  erhalten  halte.  Dies  ist  aber  einer  der  Hintergründe 
für  die  Ambivalenz  Bertha  Pappenheims  zur  Gesellschaft,  gegen  die  sie  revol- 
tierte, während  sie  zugleich  an  ihren  Konvenüonen  auch  festhielt.«*'^ 


"'  Max  M.  Sicm  [1959],  15  f.  Im  Frankfurier  Jüdischen  Museum  war  das  zum  Nachlaß 

Dora  Edingers  gehörende  Manuskript  gegenwärtig  nicht  auffindbar.  Ich  bedanke  mich 

herzlich  bei  Hemi  Dr.  Albrechl  Hirschmüller  für  sein  liebenswürdiges  Enigegenkommen. 

mir  eine  Kopie  seiner  Kopie  zu  überlassen.  Wanim  die  Arbeit  Slems  seinerzeit  nicht 

erschien,  ist  bislang  unbekannt. 

Brief  Dora  Edingers  an  Max  Stern  11.10.1959. 

Brief  Dora  Edingers  an  Frau  Werner.  6.11.1959;  ebenso  im  Brief  an  Paul  Homburger 

vom  14.1.1960. 
»•*  Stern  [19591,  8. 
"*  Breuer  1895,  20. 
'"  Stern  [1959],  7. 


113 
114 


218 


Fundstücke  und  Perspektiven  um  Ludwig  Edinger 

Dieser  Zusammenhang  läßt  sich  vertiefen  durch  Henry  E''enbergers  Hin- 
weis auf  Bertha  Pappenheims  «Opposition  against  rehgion«  .  So  notier- 
te Breuer  1882  deren 

«Sehr  monotones,  ganz  auf  die  Familie  beschränktes  Leben  Ersatz  wi^  ge- 
sucht in  leidenschaftlicher  Liebe  zu  dem  sie  verhätschelnden  Vater  (...)  Sie  ist 
duralem  nicht  religiös,  die  Tochter  sehr  orthodox  frommer  Juden  gewohnt  an 
SSte  Befolgung  der  Vorschriften  um  des  Vaters  willen,  durfte  s.e  au  h 
j?m  n^^um  seLtwillen  daran  festhalten.  Eine  Rolle  in  üuem  Üben  sp.elte 
Religion  nur  als  Gegenstand  stiller  Kämpfe  und  stiller  Opposition.« 

Von  hier  aus  wäre  Bertha  Pappenheims  spätere  Reformstrategi^e  jüdischer 
Traditionszusammenhänge  zu  begreifen  als  überdeterminierte  Akkulturati- 
onsbemsung  zwischen  dem  liberalen,  bildungsreligiös  zu  nennenden  Mi- 
lieu ihrer  assimilierten  Frankfurter  Angehörigen  und  den  überkommenen 
patriarchalischen  Gemeindestrukturen.  In  der  zweiten.  1963  gestric  enen 
Passage  schildert  Dora  Edinger.  wie  Bertha  Pappenheim  sich  durch  ihre 
Forderungen 

»fin  scharfe  Kämpfe  mit  den  Männern  der  Gemeinde  brachte  die  ihre  Tätigkeit 
i^rsS.  Mal  kritisch  beobachtet  sahen.  Bertha  Pappenheims  eigentümliche 
TmbZ  deinem  Augenblick  eine  Situation  zu  Überblicken,  geheime  Hern- 
X^fu  Irstehen  un'd  Abhilfe  vorzuschlagen,  machte  sie  zu  -er  unb^qu  ' 
Z  Mitarbeiterin  in  einem  Kreise,  der  uaditions-  und  gefühlsmäßig  die  Wohl- 
fahrtspflege der  Gemeinde  leitete].«'*" 

Die  Betonung  der  jüdischen  Komponente  darf  dabei  durchaus  auf  ihre 
Wiener  Familien-  und  Lebensgeschichte  zurückbezogen  werden  da  sie  z.a 
bei  Anna  Edinger  so  nicht  hervortritt.  Diese  setzte  sich  in  den  frühen 
1890er  Jahren  für  die  Idee  der  Alkoholbekämpfung  ein'  "nd^^J"^»; 
geblich  beteiligt  an  der  1898  beginnenden  Koordinierung  der  Frankfurt  r 
privaten  Fürsorgeeinrichtungen  bis  hin  zu  deren  Überführung  in  die  stadti- 
Lhe  Sozialhilfe  nach  dem  1.  Weltkrieg.  1904.  als  Bertha  Pappenheim  den 
•  Jüdischen  Frauenbund«  gründete.'"  leitete  sie  die  soziale  Sektion  au 
dem  Kongreß  des  Weltfrauenbundes  in  Beriin.  Sie  gehorte  -  wie  spater 


'"  Ellenberger  1972.  274. 

"•  Breuer  1882.  1  f.;  zitiert  nach  Hirschmüller  1978,  .}4y. 

'"  Dora  Edinger  (o.J.).  10. 

'"  Meyer-Renschhausen  1989.  187. 

122 


Kaplan  1981.  25  und  39. 


219 


Gerald  Kreft 


Fundstücke  und  Perspekiiven  um  Ludwig  Edinger 


Bertha  Pappenheim  -  zum  Vorstand  im  »Bund  deutscher  Frauen«.'" 
Beide  bekleideten  Positionen  im  städtischen  »Waisen-  und  Armen- 
Amt«.'^  Nicht  zuletzt  als  Vorsitzende  des  »Verbandes  Frankfurter  Frau- 
envereine« war  Anna  Edinger  auch  Mitglied  in  dem  von  Bertha  Pappen- 
heim geführten  Verein  »Mädchenclub«  sowie  im  »Heim  des  Jüdischen 
Frauenbundes  in  Neu-Isenburg«.'"  Beide  Aktivistinnen  waren  Nichten 
von  Louise  Goldschmidt,  die  bei  Bertha  Pappenheims  Hinwendung  zur 
Sozialarbeit  »eine  gewisse  Rolle  gespielt  haben  (soll)«'^^  und  gehörten 
in  Bertha  Pappenheims  frühen  Frankfurter  Jahren  zu  einem  Freundeskreis 
»junger  Verwandter«: 

»Man  traf  sich  frühmorgens  an  einem  Reitslall,  wo  Pferdepfleger  die  Pferde 
schon  bereithielten,  und  galoppierte  dann  durch  die  Wälder,  um  schließlich  in 
einem  Gasthaus  (...)  zu  frühstücken.«'^^ 

Danach  wäre  nachvollziehbar,  daß  Dora  Edinger  1968  Louise  Goldschmidi 
und  Ludwig  Edinger  als  Quellen  ihrer  Kenntnis  von  Bertha  Pappenheims 
»serious  breakdown«  (s.  o.)  angab.  Ihren  späteren  Mitarbeiterinnen  und 
Schülerinnen  gegenüber  mag  diese  davon  geschwiegen  haben.  Hat  sie  aber 
wirklich  »mit  niemanden  über  ihre  Erfahrungen  mit  Breuer  (gespro- 
chen)«'^? Es  darf  gefragt  werden,  was  Bertha  Pappenheim  »von  den 
Zusammenhängen,  die  sie  in  der  Hypnose  über  ihre  Symptome  entwickel- 
te«'^^  hätte  erzählen  können,  wenn  sie  jemanden  gehabt  hätte,  dem  sie 
es  hätte  erzählen  wollen.  Josef  Breuer  vermerkte  dazu  1882:  »Sie  selbst 
weiß,  glaube  ich,  an  details  davon  nur,  was  ich  ihr  davon  erzählt  habe 
(nach  ihrem  Bericht  in  der  Hypnose).«'^° 

Nach  Reicheneder  läßt  der  Bericht  Breuers  erkennen, 


I2J 


Meyerhof  1930.  266;  Kaplan  1981.  42.  Zum  umfangreichen  Wirken  Anna  Edingers  sind 
gegenwärtig  umstandslos  zugänglich  allein  die  knappen  Angaben  bei  Schiebler  (1988, 
77),  Arnsberg  (1983.  95)  und  Achinger  (1965.  306).  Zum  Verhältnis  vom  »Bund  Deut- 
scher Frauenvereine«  zum  »Jüdischen  Frauenbund«  vgl.  Kaplan  1981.  73  ff.  et  passim. 
Zur  unabgegoltenen  Problematik  von  egalitärer  Bürgergesellschaft  und  muliikultureller 
Differenzierung  vgl.  Krefi  1991,  49ff. 

•"  Sudtarchiv  Frankfurt:  Magislraisakte  R  350/1.  14. 
Mitgliederverzeichnisse  in  Heubach  1986. 
vgl.  Hirschmüller  1978.  160  f.;  vgl.  Freeman  1982,  71  ff. 

'"  Freemann  1973.  75  u.  79. 

'*•  Sulloway  1982,  99. 

^^  Reicheneder  1987.  313. 

'*  Zitat  nach  Hirschmüller  1978,  350. 


I2S 
126 


»bis  zu  welchem  Grade  die  Krankheitsvorgänge  wie  auch  die  in  der  Hypnose 
erzählten  Geschichten  der  Patientin  in  diesem  Normalzustand  bewußt  waren. 
Breuer  verzeichnet  darüber:  >Nach  der  Entlastung  durch  die  Erzählung  in  ihrer 
Abendhypnose  sprach  sie  französisch  oder  ilal<ienisch>,  so  daß  wir  immer 
wußten,  wovon  sie  am  anderen  Tag  wissen  werde  und  wovon  nicht  (...)  Die 
>englischen<  Zeiten  des  Abends  blieben  völlig  ohne  Residuen  in  ihrer  Erinne- 
rung<.«''^' 

Außerdem  habe  das  »Remedium  [Robert]  Binswangers  [im  Sanatorium 
>Bellevue<  1882]  gerade  im  vollkommenen  Vergessen  dieser  Zeit  und  ihrer 
Ereignisse«  bestanden.*^^  Ein  zureichendes  theoretisches  Verständis  der 
»kathartischen  Methode«  schließlich  sei  erst  nach  Abschluß  der  Behand- 
lung Josef  Breuers  in  der  Zusammenarbeit  mit  Sigmund  Freud  entstan- 
den.'^^ 

Die  Frage,  inwieweit  Bertha  Pappenheim  die  »Studien  über  Hysterie« 
und  Freuds  weitere  Entwicklung  kannte,  ist  in  der  Sekundärliteratur  oft 
diskutiert  worden,  ohne  daß  sich  Verbindliches  ergeben  hätte. '■^'^  Die 
historiographische  Imagination  aber  läßt  sich  durch  einen  Fund  im  Nachlaß 
Dora  Edingers  weiter  anregen: 

»Ich  weiß  nicht,  ob  ich  Ihnen  schrieb,  daß  mir  immer  bekannt  war,  daß  B.P. 
Anna  0.  war;  ich  glaube,  später  war  mein  Schwiegervater  [Ludwig  Edinger] 
ihr  Arzt,  den  Freud  sehr  hoch  schätzte,  was  aber  nicht  auf  Gegenseitigkeit  be- 
ruhte. Mein  Schwiegervater  scheute  vor  Freuds  Folgerungen  -  bewußt  wenig- 
stens -  zurück.«'"^* 

Da  Dora  Edinger  keine  riäheren  zeitlichen  Angaben  machte,  ergibt  sich  ein 
Spektrum  von  Möglichkeiten,  die  Relevenz  ihrer  Erinnerung  zu  situieren. 
In  der  schwächsten  Variante  würde  es  sich  um  einen  bloßen  Irrtum  han- 
dein. Ludwig  Edinger  hätte  nicht  als  Arzt  der  Bertha  Pappenheim,  sondern 
als  Familienangehöriger  von  deren  »Identität«  mit  Anna  0.  gewußt.  In  ei- 
ner etwas  stärkeren  Version  wäre  er  erst  viele  Jahre  nach  ihrer  Ankunft  in 
Frankfurt  ihr  Arzt  geworden.  Unter  Berücksichtigung  seines  seit  1883 
bestehenden  Renommees  als  erster  Neurologe  Frankfurts  sowie  (seit  1885) 


'"    Reicheneder  1990.  323. 

'"   Reicheneder  1990.  326;  vgl.  Hirschmüller  1978.  152  ff. 

'^^   Reicheneder  1990.  323;  ders.  1987.  313:  ders.  1983.  247;  Hirschmüller  1978,  149. 

'^   Freeman  1972.  212  f.  u.  256;  Jensen  1984.  37;  Schweighofer  1987,  123  ff.;  Lustiger 

1988.  368. 
'^*   Brief  Dora  Edingers  an  Frau  Bendemann,  24.9.1957  (kursive  Hervorhebungen  von 

G.  K.). 


220 


221 


Gerald  Kreß 

als  weithin  anerkannter  Hirnforscher  erscheint  jedoch  die  starke  Annahme 
durchaus  plausibel,  daß  Bertha  Pappenheim  bereits  1888/1889  keinen 
anderen  Arzt  aufsuchte  als  ihren  berühmten  Veiwandten.*^  Dies  würde 
aber  beinhalten,  daß  -  wenn  überhaupt  jemand  -  dann  Ludwig  Edinger  von 
Bertha  Pappenheim  etwas  über  ihre  Behandlung  durch  Josef  Breuer  erfah- 
ren konnte.  Die  größte  Bedeutung  erlangte  Ludwig  Edinger  als  ein  bislang 
unberücksichtigtes  sozialisierendes  Moment  in  der  »glorreiche (n)  Heim- 
kehr« Bertha  Pappenheims  vom  Wiener  »Niemand«  zum  Frankfurter  »je- 
mand«^"^^  wenn  seiner  Behandlung  nicht  nur  somatische,  sondern  auch 
psychotherapeutische  Wirkung  eingeräumt  würde. 

Berücksichtigt  man  das  Arsenal  an  Methoden,  das  Ludwig  Edinger  in 
seinen  Veröffentlichungen  diskutierte,  so  besieht  durchaus  die  Möglichkeit, 
daß  die  von  ihm  gepflegte  kathartische  Anamnese  und  Seelenbehandlung, 
»einen  Kranken  ausreden  zu  lassen«*^,  ihm  Informationen  über  Bertha 
Pappenheims  Therapie  bei  Josef  Breuer  lieferte,  sofern  diese  davon  über- 
haupt Erinnerungen  (oder  Kenntnisse)  hatte.  Außerdem  gab  er  1911  an: 

»Die  Suggestion  in  der  Hypnose  hat  vor  ca.  zwanzig  Jahren  eine  große  Rolle 
gespielt;  Arzte  und  Kranke  standen  mehr  als  heule  unter  der  Überzeugung,  daß 
hier  ein  mächtiger  Heilfaklor  gegeben  ist.  und  aus  diesem  Grunde  hallen  wir 
damals  besser  Erfolge  als  heule  (...)  [Dies]  rührt  zum  guten  Teil  auch  daher, 
daß  die  Ärzte  sich  [inzwischen)  viel  intensiver  (...)  mit  der  Psyche  des  Kranken 
beschäftigen  lernten  und  daß  wir  erfuhren,  wieviel  hier  durch  eine  verständige 
Analysierung  des  Seelenlebens  und  eine  suggestive  Leitung  zu  erreichen 
ist.«»^' 

Und  1906  hatte  er  für  die  »psychologische  Behandlung«  erklärt:  »Sie  sollte 
ein  Kunstwerk  im  höchsten  Sinne  des  Wortes  sein,«  das  vor  allem  darauf 
beruht,  »das  Vertrauen  der  Patienten  zu  gewinnen.«*"*^ 

Die  Anerkennung  dieser  stärksten  Bedeutungsvariante  einer  Arzt-Pa- 
tient-Beziehung zwischen  Ludwig  Edinger  und  Bertha  Pappenheim  müßte 


'^  Bei  dem  1890  in  Kreuzungen  gesiorbenen,  vermeintlichen  »Frankfurter  Neurologe(n)« 
Carl  Westphal,  der  möglicherweise  1882  zu  einem  Bertha  Pappenheim  betreffenden  Kon- 
silium im  »Bellevue«  hinzugezogen  wurde  (Hirschmüller  1978,  362;  kursive  Hervorhe- 
bung von  G.K.),  handelt  es  sich  um  einen  Berliner  Psychiater  (Page!  1901,  1843  ff.). 

'"  Schivelbusch  1982.  78. 

'"  Edinger  [1908-1913]  (Ludwig  Edinger  Archiv).  Zum  zeitgenössischen  Stellenwert  der 
Katharsis  vgl.  Shorter  1991,  27  u.  34;  Hirschmüller  1978.  208  f.;  Dalma  1963.  256  et 
passim. 

^^  Edinger  1911.  12. 

'^  Edinger  1906.  226. 


222 


Fundstücke  und  Perspektiven  um  Ludwig  Edinger 

ein  weitgehendes  Umschreiben  des  »Gründungsmythos«  der  Psychoanalyse 
nach  sich  ziehen. ^^'  Doch  auch  dann,  wenn  man  diese  Annahme  als  spe- 
kulativ ablehnt,  kann  die  sich  Ludwig  Edinger  nachträglich  erschließende 
Relevanz  der  1893  vorläufig  mitgeteilten''^  1895  ausführlich  veröffent- 
lichten Fallgeschichte  des  »Frl.  Anna  0.«  nicht  übersehen  werden.  Mit  der 
»Identität«  von  Anna  O.  und  Bertha  Pappenheim  muß  ihm  die  Tragweite 
seiner  -  sei  es  privaten,  sei  es  professionellen  -  Kenntnisse  bewußt  gewor- 
den sein.  Von  diesem  Zeitpunkt  an  stand  ihm  aber  der  »eine(.)  Schritt 
weiter  auf  der  Bahn  (...),  die  zuerst  Charcot  so  erfolgreich  (...)  betreten 
hat«'^\  in  einer  von  keinem  zeitgenössischen  Kollegen  geteilten  Kon- 
kretheit vor  Augen:  in  der  Person  Bertha  Pappenheims.  Wenn  überhaupt 
jemand  außer  Breuer  und  Freud,  dann  war  es  Ludwig  Edinger.  der  die  von 
Breuer  formulierte  Epikrise  beurteilen  konnte: 

»Die  wunderbare  Tatsache,  daß  vom  Beginne  bis  zum  Abschlüsse  der  Erkran- 
kung alle  aus  dem  zweiten  [unbewußten  Bewußtseins-]  Zustande  stammenden 
Reize  und  ihre  Folgen  durch  das  Aussprechen  in  der  Hypnose  dauernd  beseitigt 
wurden  (...)  Als  Patientin  nach  Abschluß  der  hysterischen  Phänomene  in  einer 
vorübergehenden  Depression  war,  brachte  sie  unter  anderen  kindische  Befürch- 
tungen und  Selbslanklagen  auch  die  vor,  sie  sei  gar  nicht  krank  und  alles  sei 
nur  simuliert  gewesen.  Ähnliches  ist  bekanntlich  schon  mehrfach  vorgekommen 
(...)  Dann  verließ  sie  Wien  für  eine  Reise,  brauchte  aber  doch  noch  längere 
Zeit,  bis  sie  ganz  ihr  psychisches  Gleichgewicht  gefunden  hatte.  Seitdem  erfreut 
sie  sich  vollständiger  Gesundheit.«'*^ 

Ludwig  Edingers  Zurückhaltung  gegenüber  Freuds  weiterer  Entwicklung 
(Verführungstheorie,  Ödipuskomplex),  sein  Interesse  an  den  »Studien«  und 
damit  auch  an  Josef  Breuer,  der  im  Falle  der  Anna  0.  eine  sexuelle  Ätiolo- 
gie immer  abgelehnt  hatte'^^  schließlich  seine  Hinwendung  zu  einer  ver- 
ständigen wie  suggestiven  »psychologischen  Analysierung«  würden  so 
Dora  Edingers  Charakterisierung  ihres  Schwiegervaters  zu  einem  in  sich 
konsistenten  Bild  abrunden. 

Was  Dora  Edinger  -  zwischen  zwei  Gedankenstrichen  -  über  das 
Verhältnis  Ludwig  Edingers  zu  Sigmund  Freud  formulierte,  ist  paradox 
genug.  Zugleich  scheint  darin  etwas  von  den  Ambiguitäten  der  hier  skiz- 


''•'   Appignanesi  ei  al.  1992.  121;  vgl.  Forrester  1986. 
'''  Freud  [und  Breuer]  1893a. 
•'^  Ebd..  97. 

'^  Breuer  1895.  35  u.  39  f. 

'"*  Breuer  1882,  2  (zitiert  bei  Hirschmüller  1978.  349):  Breuer  1895.  20;  Breuer  1907  (zitiert 
bei  Cranefield  1958.  320  und  Ackerknechi  1957,  171).  Vgl.  Forrester  1986,  18  ff. 

223 


Gerald  Kreji 

zierten  Vorgeschichte  der  Psychoanalyse  in  Frankfurt  insgesamt  auf:  »be 
wüßt  wenigstens«  scheute  man  vor  Freuds  Folgerungen  zurück. 


Unveröffentlichte  Quellen 


Ludwig  Edinger  Archiv 

Edinger.  Ludwig  [1908-1913]:  Erinnerungen.  Mein  Lebensgang.  [Vier  Klemm- 
hebelmappen, 151  vorwiegend  mit  Maschine  beschriebene  Seiten] 

Goldstein,  Kurt  [1918a]:  Vorschlag  betreffend  die  Umgestaltung  des  Institituts  zur 
Erforschung  der  Folgeerscheinungen  nach  Hirnverletzungen  in  ein  Institut  für 
medizinische  Psychologie.  [Frankfurt  am  Main;  Vier  mit  Maschine  beschriebe- 
ne Seiten]. 

Medizinische  Fakultät  Frankfurt  (1919):  Vorschläge  der  medizinischen  Fakultät  für 
die  Organisation  der  Neurologischen  Klinik  und  der  neurologischen  Forschung. 
26.11.1919.  Frankfurt  am  Main  [Zwei  mit  Maschine  beschiriebene  Seiten]. 

Medizinische  Fakultät  Frankfurt  (1928):  Eingabe  der  Medizinischen  Fakultät 
Frankfurt  am  Main  über  die  notwendige  Neuorganisation  des  Neurologischen 
Institutes.  An  das  Ministerium  für  Wissenschaft,  Kunst  und  Volksbildung 
Beriin.  12.9.1928.  Frankfurt  am  Main  [Zehn  mit  Maschine  beschriebene  Sei- 
ten]. 

Psychologischer  Verein  [1910/1911]:  [Sechs  Psychologische  Abende  vom 
5.11.1910  bis  23.2.1911.  Sieben  teils  von  Hand,  teils  mit  Maschine  beschriebe- 
ne Seiten]. 

Scharrer,  Ernst  [1962]:  Geschichte  des  Neurologischen  Instituts  1933-1937.  [Frank- 
furt am  Main.  Sechs  mit  Maschine  beschriebene  Seiten]. 

Max  Horkheimer  Archiv 

Horkheimer,  Max  [oJ.]:  [Kurt  Goldstein  über  Gehimpathologie.  Datierung  unklar] 

(Signatur  VU  10) 

Horkheimer,  Max  (1948):  Brief  an  Kurt  Goldstein  vom  4.11.1948 

(Signatur:  n.8.59) 

Jüdisches  Museum 

Edinger,  Dora  [1954-1963]:  Briefwechsel 

Edinger,  Dora  [oJ.]:  Aus  dem  Nachlaß  von  Bertha  Pappenheim  (1859-1936) 

gesammelt  und  eingeleitet  von  Dora  Edinger. 

Leonhard,  Hans  Mayer  (1929):  Vorfahren  und  Nachfahren.  Nachkommen  des 

Salomon  Benedikt  Goldschmidt  in  Frankfurt,  gestorben  1812.  Frankfurt 

Stern,  Max  M.  [1959]:  [Bertha  Pappenheim.  Siebzehn  mit  Maschine  beschriebene 

Seiten  ohne  Titel]. 


224 


Fundstücke  und  Perspektiven  um  Ludwig  Edinger 

Stadtarchiv  Frankfurt 

Magisuatsakte  350/1:  »Organisation  der  Städtischen  Verwaltung  (1903-1924)«, 
Auszug  aus  dem  Milgliederverzeichnis  der  städtischen  Ämter  und  Deputationen 
etc. 

Universitätsarchiv  Heidelberg 

Brief  vom  5.6.1994  (Beü-.:  Inrnnatrikulationen  von  Dora  und  Fritz  Edinger) 


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234 


PSYCHOANALYSE  IN  FRANKFURT  AM  MAIN 


Zerstörte  Anfänge 

Wiederannäherung 

Entwicklungen 


Herausgegeben  von 

Tomas  Plänkers 

Michael  Laier 

Hans-Heinrich  Otto 

Hans-Joachim  Rothe 

Helmut  Siefert 


A  • 


edition  diskord 


Für  Druckkostenzuschüsse  danken  wü-  herzlich  der  Walter  Artelt  und  Edith 
Heischkel-Artelt-Stiftung.  dem  Frankfurter  Psychoanalytischen  Institut,  der 
Fördergeseilschaft  Psychoanalyse  am  Sigmund-Freud-lnstiiut.  der  Stadt 
Frankfurt  a.M.  und  der  Sigmund-Freud-Stiftung. 


Inhalt 


Hilmar  Hoffmann 

Psychoanalyse  in  Frankfurt.  Grußwort  der  Stadt  (1989) 

Horst-Eberhard  Richter 
Vorwort 

Werner  Bohleber 
Vorwort 

Tomas  Plänkers 
Einleitung 


14 


20 


27 


Die  Deutsche  Bibliothek  -  CIP-Einheitsaufnahme 

Psychoanalyse  in  Frankfurt  am  Main  :  zerstörte  Anfänge. 
Wiederannäherung,  Entwicklungen  /  hrsg.  von  Tomas  Plänkers 

...  -  Tübingen  :  Ed.  diskord,  1996 
ISBN  3-89295-602-2 
NE:  Plänkers,  Tomas 


©  1996  edition  diskord,  Tübingen 

Computer-Satz:  Anne  Schweinlin,  Tübingen 

Druck:  Fuldaer  Verlagsanstall 

ISBN  3-89295-602-2 


I.    DAS  »FRANKFURTER  PSYCHOANALYTISCHE  INSTITUT« 
VON  1929-1933 

Michael  Laier 

»Sie  wissen,  dass  alles  von  unserem  alten  Institut  vernichtet 

wurde.«  Das  Frankfurter  Psychoanalytische  Institut  (1929-1933) 

Hans-Joachim  Rothe 

Ein  exemplarisches  Schicksal.  Karl  Landauer  (1887-1945) 

Tomas  Plänkers 

Hygiene  der  Seele.  Heinrich  Meng  (1887-1972) 

Ursula  Engel 

Vom  »Thorapeutikum«  nach  Chestnut  Lodge. 

Frieda  Fromm-Reichmann  (1889-1957) 

Bernard  Görlich 

Psychoanalyse  und  Soziologie:  Erich  Fromm 

Sabine  Rothe 

Psychoanalyse  im  Netzwerk  der  Gruppe. 

S.  H.  Foulkes  in  Frankfurt  a.  M. 

Helmut  Siefert 

Wie  eine  Stecknadel  im  Heuhaufen.  Psychoanalyse  an  der 

Frankfurter  Medizinischen  Fakultät  vor  1933 


39 


41 


87 


109 


141 


153 


161 


180 


Gerald  Krefi 

Zur  Archäologie  der  Psychoanalyse  in  Frankfurt: 

Fundstücke  und  Perspektiven  um  Ludwig  Edinger 

Michael  Laier 

Der  Neurologe  Kurt  Goldstein  (1878-1965)  und  seine  Beziehung 

zu  Gestaltpsychologie  und  Psychoanalyse 

Tomas  Plänkers 

Die  Verleihung  des  Frankfurter  Goethe-Preises  an  Sigmund  Freud 

1930.  Aus  den  Sitzungsprotokollen  des  Goethe-Preis-Kuratoriums 


II.  PSYCHOANALYSE  IN  FRANKFURT  AB  1956 
DAS  SIGMUND-FREUD-INSTITUT 

Falk  Berger 

»Das  Tragen  eines  Smokings  wäre  ein  Fauxpas«. 

Die  Veranstaltung  zum  100.  Geburtstag  Sigmund  Freuds  im 

Jahre  1956 

Falk  Berger 

Zur  »Biographie«  einer  Institution. 

Alexander  Mitscherlich  gründet  das  Sigmund-Freud-Institut 

Hermann  Argelander 

Zur  Geschichte  des  Sigmund-Freud-Instituts 

Margarete  Mitscherlich-Nielsen 

Das  Sigmund-Freud-Institut  unter  Alexander  Mitscherlich  - 

ein  Gespräch 

Emma  Moersch 

Forschung  und  Berufspolitik. 

Das  Sigmund-Freud-Institut  unter  Clemens  de  Boor 

DAS  FRANKFURTER  PSYCHOANALYTISCHE  INSTITUT 

Eugenia  Fischer,  Rene  Fischer,  Hans-Heinrich  Otto 
Von  der  Rhein-Main-Neckar-Gruppe  über  die  Frankfurier 
Psychoanalytische  Vereinigung  zum  Frankfurter  Psycho- 
analytischen Institut. 
Eine  Chronologie 


195 


235 


254 


333 
335 


335 


349 


373 


385 


413 
450 


450 


PSYCHOANALYSE  AN  DER  JOHANN  WOLFGANG 
GOETHE-UNIVERSITÄT 

Peter  Kutter 

Der  Stachel  im  Fleisch: 

Das  Institut  für  Psychoanalyse  im  Fachbereich  Psychologie 

Aloys  Leber  und  Manfred  Gerspach 

Geschichte  der  Psychoanalytischen  Pädagogik  in  Frankfurt  a.  M. 

Stavros  Mentzos 

Psychoanalyse  in  der  Abteilung  für  Psychotherapie  und 

Psychosomatik 

Gerd  0  verbeck 

»The  Mysterious  Leap  from  the  Mind  to  the  Body«. 
Psychogenese  -  Krankheitsverarbeitung  -  interaktioneile 
Psychosomatik  -  biopsychosozialer  Situationskreis: 
was  bleibt  für  die  psychoanalytische  Psychosomatik? 

Michael  Lukas  Moeller 

Gold  und  Kupfer.  Die  Psychoanalyse  in  der  Medizinpsychologie 

Volkmar  Sigusch 

Zum  Verhältnis  von  Psychoanalyse  und  Sexualwissenschaft 


PSYCHOANALYSE  UND  IHRE  ANWENDUNGEN 

Elisabeth  Müller-Brühn 

Geschichte  und  Entwicklung  des  Instituts  für  analytische  Kinder- 

und  Jugendlichen-Psychotherapie  in  Frankfurt  a.  M. 

Willi  G.  Baumann  und  Jörg  M,  Scharff 
Psychoanalyse  und  Beratung 

Jänos  Paäl  und  Dieter  Becker 

Die  Weiterbildung  von  Ärzten  zu  Psychotherapeuten  auf 

psychoanalytischer  Gmndlage 


461 


461 


489 


542 


560 


576 


596 


Bernard  Görlich 

Grenzüberschreitungen.  Alfred  Lorenzer: 

Erkenntnis-,  Sozialisations-  und  Kulturtheoretiker  der  Psychoanalyse     617 

Alfred  Krovoza  und  Christian  Schneider 

Politische  Philosophie  -  politische  Psychologie.  Über  das  Verhältnis 

von  Kritischer  Theorie  und  Psychoanalyse  nach  1945  630 


654 


654 


703 


733 


Volker  Kimbel,  Brigitte  Leuchtweis-Geriach,  Inge  Rieber-Hunscha 
Der  Frankfurter  Arbeitskreis  für  Psychoanalytische  Psychotherapie 
(FAPP) 

Sylvia  Florstedt 

Die  psychotherapeutische  Weiterbildung  von  Diplom-Psychologen 

auf  psychoanalytischer  Grundlage 

KURZINFORMATIONEN 

Hans-Martin  Lohmann 

50  Jahre  PSYCHE  (1947-1996) 

Sibylle  Drews 

»Zeitschrift  für  psychoanalytische  Theorie  und  Praxis« 

Sibylle  Drews 

Sigmund-Freud-Stiftung  zur  Förderung  der  Psychoanalyse  e.  V. 

Die  Redaktion 

Schriftenreihe  »Materialien  aus  dem  Sigmund-Freud-Insiitui« 

Gunzelin  Schmid  Noerr 
Die  Archive  der  »Frankfurter  Schule«  und  das 
Alexander-Mitscherlich-Archiv  der  Stadt-  und 
Universitätsbibliothek  Frankfurt  a.  M. 


738 


748 
753 

753 

757 

759 

764 


766 


Autorinnen  und  Autoren 
Bild-  und  Quellennachweise 
Personenregister 


771 
779 
783 


;^ 


■^^ 


stand 


a:-:;   i 


that  p. 


2!> 


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■'>^  '^ 


Reviews  of  Books 


GENERAL 

,  iMRLES  B.  STROZIER  and  DANIEL  OFFER,  cdiiors.  The 
\.Jn-  Psycholmtmcal  Essays.  Foreword  b>  peixr 
i.o  New  York:  Plenum.  1985.  Pp.  xv,.  324.  $39.50. 


1  ius  anthologv  is  reniiniscent  of  the  liiüe  girl  vMth 
,Ik  iinl   WHen  it  is  gooci.  it  is  very  good  mdeed: 
ulun  il  is  bad  it  is  appalling.  The  tedious  iniroduc- 
loiA   (hapicrs  by  Charles  B.  Sirozier  and  Daniel 
Oilor  add  liltle  lo  oui  undcrsianding  ot  the  prob- 
Ums  of  applving  psydiolog\  lo  historical  analysis. 
1 JR  ediior's  reseni  ihe  cnücisms  leveled  at  "psycho- 
hi>ti)rians"  bv  iheir  niore  conventional  rolleagnes. 
h.n  theii   own   vcntures  into  hisioiv  deinonstrate 
nuviseix    whv   ihe   genre  sonietinics  lies  open  to 
aiiuk:  iheir  essays  abound  in  reductionism,  irre- 
s{>..nsibk  oversiaiemeni,  and  hrsioncal  misunder- 

In  "Lincoln  and  the  Crisis  of  the  18oOs   Siro/iei 
asserts  that  Lincolns  personal  paranoid  tendencies 
responded   to  the   "rampani   paranoia"  sweepmg 
America:  "Something  new  appeared  on  the  scene  in 
ihe  1 850s.  The  dark  shadow  of  paranoia  .  . .  came  to 
blv)i  out  the  sun  entirely  .  .  .  Lincoln  shuddered  in 
terror  at  an  imagined  conspiracy"  (pp.  92.  93).  The 
language  is  extravagant,  and  the  evidence  is  msuf- 
ticieni  to  persuade  us  that  the  clinical  diagnosis  oi 
Paranoia   is  appropnate.  One  can  ceriainly  find 
evidence  of  suspicion,  violence,  and  conspirac>  in 
the   1850s,  but  they  scarcely  constitute  "rampani 
Paranoia"  and  were  not  "something  new"  in  Amer- 
ican life.  As  Leonard  Ridiards  has  shown,  hystena. 
suspicion,  and  mob  violence  againsi  abolitionists 
reached  their  apogee  in  the  1 830s,  and  the  irrational 
nativist,  anti-Negro  hvsteria  bursi  into  violent  riots 
in  Philadelphia  in  ihe'l840s.  Moreover,  Lincoln  did 
not  reenter  politics  in  1854  because  he  had  suddenlv 
"become  a  different  pcrson '  (p.  102);  such  a  State- 
ment is  psychologicallvjiaive^^ndJiiMon^^ 
jnjfogned.  Lint;okrWentereclpolitic.s  for  solid  poITf- 
icaTTSiöns  and  not  because  of  any  undisclosed 
psychic  meumorphosis.  Bv  insisting  on  psychologi- 
cal  explanations  without  suflicient  documentation, 


Strozier  trivializcspo[iiical_;__so^^ 
-1ssuerüfTranscen3ing  imporunce. 
~~  T^e^erränd  tTie'ATäB^Tsi^  A  Psycho- 

analvtic  Interpretation"  by  Offer  and  Marvin  Zonis 
offers  no  meaningful  psychological  or  historical  In- 
terpretation. Instead  of  preseniing  a  systematic 
study  of  leaders  in  the  Near  Last,  the  auihors  flu 
about  among  a  dozcn  topk  s  and  ofler  such  startling 
inanities  as  "\Ve  must  listen  to  whai  people  sav  lo 
undersiand  what  they  are  saving"  (p.  293)  and  "One 
cannoi  get  a  meaningful  psyclu)logKal  understand- 
ing  of  the  Middle  Last  by  studvmg  it  at  a  dis-^ 
tance,  . .  .  or  even  in  the  region"  (p.  294). 

In    their   concluding    rhaptcr.    "Reflect'.ons   on 
Leadership."  Strozier  and  Offei  iucludc  the  follow- 
ing:  "Ihe  abiliiy  to  gel  along  wilh  others  is  impor- 
tani  for  most  persons  in  office    (p.  308).  and  iwen- 
tieih-ceniury  poliiical  leaders  are  "somewhat  more 
Stahle  emotionallv  and  less  imjnilsive  than  leaders  ot 
the  pasi  millenniuni    (p.  309;.  ( Thev  do  not  use 
Adolf  Hitler.  Idi  Amin.  Jean  Bokassa.  aad  Muamar 
rrH^ddhah  to  suppoit  iheir  ihesis.) 
'      It  is  regrettablc  that  the  seminal  ideas  of  Hein/ 
Kohut,  which  can  prove  valuable  to  hisiorians,  have 
been  inappropriately  applied  in  such  superficial  and 
I   ilUionsidered  articles.  We  can  be  graieful,  houever, 
^ttiai  three  essays  are  strong  enough  to  rescue  this 
volume  froin  disa.sten^Human  Muslin^and  Prakash 
Desai's  "The  TransfoPmaiion  ol  iFiTSelf  of  Ma- 
hatma  Oandhi,"  Joseph   Bongiornc/s   "Woodrovv 
Wilson    Revi.siicd      Ihe   Pi e-n>lili?al   Vears,"   and 
/rhomas  KohutX"M^r^^>^   ^"^^R^  ^*  ^  Nation:  An 
Investigation  of  Kaiser  Wilhelm  Us  Uadership  of 

the  Germans." 

In  their  penetrating  and  persuasive  article  Muslin 
and  Desai  fulfill  their  purpo.se  of  providing  "not  a 
Solution  to  the  mystery  of  Gandhi,  but  ...  an  en- 
hanced  appreciation  of  the  complexiiies  of  the  man" 
(p.  111).  They  employ  Kohutian  analvsis  to  reach  a 
decperiawgbqhan  KriksoA^N^s  able  to  achieve.  The 
young  GandhU  distraiTglit  and  f  ragmenied  youth, 
engaged  in  an  anxious,  lifelong  search  for  "tlie 
pcrfect  GuiTj"— which  is  to  say,  for  an  idealized 
parent  or  for  some  purpose  that  would  give  mean- 


355 


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a  ivain  in  South  Af..ca  mK»uced   a 

,a,u..g   ^«^'^»»■»^•T^  ™is  Uüc  rag  ••  in.o  cre- 

C;andh-.  u,  ^'•--'j^'V^rr:«  beo..e  for  him 

ihe 'seif  object  iiui  pi'      ,  i.^^TrTTieviouslv  e  uJtJ 
Ixconie  one  «f  h«"»>  ^  j       ^.,,s  and  his  long- 

1„  his  rt•^vard^lg  «^>;  !;     ^  ,,  ,,;,  „arenis  and 

enrkhes  Alexander  ^-  ;'7;/,.,„as  ihai  not  only 
C;c... ges  pi-^-la  her  :a  '  >ve.ly  dependent. for 
büih  we.e  narc.sMSt.caM>  ^^    ^,,^^  ^j,„. 

Wilson  Sr.  wro.e  n.  a  l'^""-  «"  „^e  ■  ■  ■  M.y  hcaft 
«hat  pleases  you  «»"f  >  »^m  hat  can  hardly  be 
c,  ies  ..ui  for  you  to  »  ^^'^^  ;^,;^^,,,i„„  „i  his  father 
e.,duvcd.7  he  p...  >  S  '  "'  [  ^,^  ,,ppUed  hin, 
i,„,,eded  Ihe  son^  .5'"^  '';  ^^  ,,i,n,  as  he  sa.d. 

.i.'h  the  en.pa.luc  '"  ""^    ■^^.Ji.aielv  needed. 
,„,  ..pintual  -P;-  ,':,,;     X,lces  at  P.  ince.on 
R,  K.a<lM.K  ^^'''""""  ,f,  ,,,a,  Nvhatcve.  the  real- 

Uv.  W.Hon  ''^''"-7'-;''     i  h  s  l  .iher  and  l)e.;a.nc  con- 

vi.»  eci  th:u  ne  'au—^^J^is  he  con.ronted 
•  *^Wlüiümiü^  "™,"\;,;,ad  late.  dunng  the 
,,,iU.re  and  ^'«^H-aT--^  "^        ,,-,  ,,i,,er  had  done. 

Lcague  <  «"''"^'^'.^"l^,,  .«s.  and  self-defeating  de- 
«ith  inlUx.l.le.  ^^l  '  «  '  X  ,  ,^,  ,hat.  in  trying  to 
harne.  Ihe  trased      IV  1^^^^^^^^         .^^^^^^  ^^„,,d.  he 

r,„d  cohesion  an<l  "r  '^  ,  ^-   ^rilliant  capac- 

was  at  the  sa.ne  m  ne    ün.  ^^  „,„ 

weak  and  inefle^t've  (p.  »«"^  J^  .,  remarkaWe 
paradox  by  '''-"^"'t  ifad  ^p "  tont  h«  inca- 
'capabilities  '«- ^>!n^;t^J"J,,s  thesis  is  .hat 

pacity  for  !><!--  ^j^T^^  «  ^^  ''^"= 

tlie  Kaiser  s_naKisM_^^ 


fcrent  syn.bolic  '"'f  *  t.  "  '   snecialW  »»ccause  th.s 

„ aits  were  a  pohfcal  "^^''"f '  "ES  P"^l^'^-  '"^=^- 
leader  had  nociear  ^^'^^^^^P^';"  J  Jse.  he  steered 
pable  "',,^'--'5 -;  Tad    toward  different  ob^ 

g"ve.nn.ent.  -f T^^fj  ^^i.h  c.Lri.n.ted  di- 
bdligerant  ve.b<.s.  v    a"  ^^_j  j„„,esuc 

rccilv  tohis  pohncal  f^-«  "^•='    /"     f^,  -[he  Kaisei 

[S:t':.liicleade.shipb.^^^^^^^^^^ 

„,  vei  V  politicat  "-"-7^:::;"f„Xssay  .vritten  bv  a 

'  '"^""^»^'T;«  Ä       "  -'S-  and  histoi. 

erson  traincd  ui  '^"".  P  >„,,^,,„u,Ricalh  intonncl 

l,e,nonstrateshovv  "'"'"h  '  P  ;;*\"  Uustaiuling  o.  ihe 

h.si...ian  "■^'i'r':''  "'a  ;rv"ith  '^ose  on  C;andhi 
past.  His  "XHlel  study,  al  "«g   ^  ^,  ^..^avs 

a"<nvil..n  woud.^      n--  ,,^,  ,,,^.. 

cciii.  RüBER'V(;.  t.  wAin 


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,,,,,,  ,e,ionaUv.  «K.allv.  '";  'f'^y '    .^^u.l.^ 
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Kaiser  as  an  e.npath.cjdM>)ect. 


Lawrence   Lnoauin. 
2H5.  S29.95. 

,,.iUp  Po.npe. .  who.  -;/- r^^^SreV^^nX 
hiMon.  addresses  hunself  '»^'^  ":j\  ,„l  Freud, 
p,,  hohistoricü  --eP"-  J''N^S.an  (>•  Btou" 

and  BoUrtjay  Litton.  In  o  der  to  ^^^.^.^ 

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;:.,icular  hame  of  -'-^^^.^JiV^^^^  .hat  U  •; 
spare.  1  «a.uu.t  dwell  '"^'^^P  ,.,,„,.  a..d  «h.'t  ' 
,  .aginative.  ""^"f"';  "',;..  h>.  .uia..bl.- ....«' 

^»''-/•'""\?e;r.rrh;'r;\deco.i.,...i-j;^ 

:Äi:;:ru;h.oreaccess.ble.<..eadu 

tbev  Imve  hUherio  beeu-  ^^^,j,,.j  ,h.u  •« 

cc>ulclex,lain,<>nthehas.s^)^^^^^^^ 

ücns,  both  tbe  -ur-  <>      -     -  ,.,.h  ^^  ; 

contc.us  become  ctfective. 


propositions  obvio 
the  link  bctwe«n  c 
carried  him  so  far 
conhdent,  was  brol 
^'  Intcrcstcd  in  psych 
to  reestablish  (his  li 
of  psychosocial  lert 
intentions  and  put 
)^  thal  explaining  or 
^  particular  organizi 
vi  the  proccss  by  wh 
[^,  jficld  multiple,  cot) 
^  intcrpreuitions  of  n 
Iwv  lio  grounds  othcr  \\ 

('v  cho^i'iK  atnong  th 
[S^    Soinc  language 
';arguc  ihat  no  solu« 
%  compeling,  and  coi 
>r^  liWc.  incaning  in  ef 
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'  These  issues  of 
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äconttxt  in  which  < 
dtbcusscs.  Because 
»Ive  the  pioblem. 
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vatth«  nioral  levei 
Irilh  iheir  work    I 
" fingen  Tretidsf 
flilisin  in  a  diflerc' 
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ÄnV  in  tlie  coiic< 
Mattusc  is  desciibi 
*«  mvrniivencss"  i 
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:*^an  vision  (p  1 
,  r  8y  f  mphasiijng 
^  JffchohistoritaJ  <(• 
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^^jc^    SiGMuM^  l«e£aee^:Srs^r  s^tufcje    n53-/n3 


BOOK  REVIEW 

Bruno  Bettelheim,  Freud  and  Man's  Soui  (New  York:  Knopf,  1983), 
112  pages 

Rcvicwcd  by  David  James  Fisher,  PhD. 

Bruno  Bettelheim  belongs  to  the  finest  tradition  of  European  and  psycho- 
analytic  culture  criticism.  Whether  he  is  explaining  perspicadously  the 
group  dynamics  of  Jewish  prisoners  in  concentration  camps,  unmasking  the 
sentimental  populär  appeal  of  the  Anne  Frank  memoirs,  undermining 
satirically  and  caustically  replying  to  Portnoy'i  Complaint,  distinguishing 
trenchantly  between  survival  and  resistance  in  dealing  with  the  literature 
and  films  of  the  Holocaust,  or  deciphering  playfully  the  unconscious  roots  of 
fairy  tales,  Bettelheim  has  been  at  the  cutting  edge  of  critical  discourse  for 
the  past  thirty-five  years.  His  works  irritate.  Even  his  redundancies  shake  us 
from  our  complaccncy.  He  does  not  take  the  consensus  viewpoint.  His 
creativity  requires  that  he  be  the  Outsider,  taking  well-timed  and  piercing 
shots  at  various  establishments  and  conformist  points  of  view.  His  writings 
invariably  challenge  the  readers'  received  ideas.  They  cajole  the  reader  to 
reply,  to  get  angry,  to  enter  into  dialogue  with  Bettelheim,  to  sce,  as  it  were, 
if  his  tone  of  aurhority  is  based  on  substance,  or  if  it  simply  expresses  an 
authoritarian  personality. 

Freud  and  Man'i  Soui,  his  thirteenth  book.  focuses  on  the  most  significant 
area  of  inquiry  in  the  human  and  social  sciences  today,  language;  more 
specifically,  it  addresses  the  elusive  issue  of  Freud's  language,  the  content 
and  spirit,  the  surface  structure  and  significant  latencies,  of  Freud's  texts. 

Bettelheim's  argument  is  that  Freud's  writings  have  been  misrepresented  by 
his  translators  in  The  Standard  Edition.  Why  make  such  a  fuss  about 
distorted  translatlon?  The  culture  critic  cannot  disregard  these  inaccuracies 
because  Freud's  ideas  have  radically  shifted  the  twentieth-century 
perception  of  humanity.  Freudian  terminology  has  penetrated  into  everyday 
Speech.  Freud's  words  have  evolved  into  a  universe  of  thcir  own;  his 
language  has  had  an  unparalleied  if  uncertain  destiny.  Language  is  central  in 
understanding  Freud's  theoretical  orientation;  the  repercussions  of  Freud's 
words  are  vast  for  those  engaged  in  therapeutic  endeavors  and  in 
humanistic  enterprises.  Thus,  how  Freud  was  translated  is  of  decisive 
importance  in  how  he  is  read  and  how  his  ideas  are  applied.  The  strategy  of 
Bettelheim's  book  is  to  indicate  selectively  crucial  mistranslations  of  Freud's 
work  from  the  German  to  the  English.  He  is  uniquely  qualified  to  perform 
this  task.  He  entered  adulthood  in  Freud's  Vienna  in  the  1920's  and  1930's. 
His  cultural,  educational,  ethnic,  and  linguistic  background  resembles 
Freud's  (the  most  important  contrast  would  be  the  absence  of  medical  and 
neurophysiological  training  in  Bettelheim's  formacion). 


20 


Bettelheim  alerts  us  to  the  outright  errors,  esoterism,  and  clumsy  technical 
Jargon  in  The  Standard  Edition.  This  obstructs  the  process  of  making 
Freud's  words  accessible  to  the  reader.  The  translators  failed  to  engender  a 
sense  of  the  implications  of  psychoanalytic  concepts.  He  emphasizes  how 
Freud,  an  ingenious  and  inventive  writer,  rarcly  borrowed  from  Latin  and 
Greek  usage;  rather  the  major  sources  of  his  writings  camc  from  ordinary 
spoken  German,  as  well  as  from  the  existing  psychological  and 
psychopathological  literature  of  his  day.  Bettelheim  hammecs  away  at 
several  overlapping  themes:  that  Freud  sounds  more  abstract,  more 
scientific,  more  dispassionate.  more  mechanistic  in  English  than  in  German; 
that  the  recourse  to  specialized  vocabulary  in  the  English  version  Covers  up 
imprecise,  often  soft,  thinking  and  deflects  the  reader  from  emotional 
associations;  that  Freud  frequently  opted  for  the  most  simple  word  in 
German  without  striving  for  consistent  meaning  every  time  he  used  a  givcn 
term;  that  Freud's  language  was  explicitly  chosen  to  sound  an  intimate  note. 
that  is,  that  he  built  theory  in  order  to  strike  his  audiences'  private  register. 
In  Short,  reading  Freud  ought  to  be  a  process  of  familiarity,  akin  to  the 
spontaneous,  empathic  feelings  of  closeness  experienced  in  confronting 
what  is  human  in  oneself.  Reading  Freud  ought  not  to  be  conducted  at  too 
great  a  distance,  ought  not  tö  be  experienced  with  the  feelings  of 
strangeness  or  detachment.  Freud's  sublime  gifts  as  a  writer  allow  his 
audience  to  return  to  themselves  both  emotionally  and  intellectually.  The 
corpus  of  his  work  is  an  extended  invitation  to  explore  one's  inner  depths;  it 
encourages  a  deeper  understanding  of  one's  unconscious  and  of  the 
unconscious  modal ities  of  others. 

Although  he  does  not  cite  his  predecessors,  Bettelheim's  critique  of  the 
faulty  translations  in  The  Standard  Edition  is  not  new.  Lacan,  among  the 
most  penetrating,  has  been  railing  against  erroneous  conclusions  based  on 
erroneous  translation  for  years.  In  their  süperb  The  Language  of 
Psychoanalysis,  Laplanche  and  Pontalis  call  for  more  "faithful  translation " 
of  Freud's  work.  English  translator,  James  Strachey,  mentioned  the 
*'deficiencies"  and  the  "irremediable"  faults  of  his  efforts  in  the  1966 
"General  Preface"  to  The  Standard  Edition.  Strachey  was  aware  of  the 
untranslatable  verbal  points  in  Freud's  writings,  especially  in  the 
autobiographical  works  like  The  Interpretation  of  Dreams  and  The  Psycho- 
pathoiogy  of  Everyday  Life.  He  mentioned  that  Freuds  German  editions 
were  often  untrustworthy.  Moreover,  Jones  alerts  us  to  Freuds  "cavalier ' 
attitude  about  foreign  editions  of  his  writings;  Jones,  nevertheless,  predicted 
that  the  English  translation  would  be  more  accurate  than  all  previous 
editions. 

At  first  glance,  Bettelheim  seems  harsh  in  criticizing  the  Herculean 
enterprise  of  making  Freuds  complete  psychological  works  available  in 
English.  Perhaps  the  best  that  any  individual  could  accomplish  would  be  a 
sustained  strucnire  with  a  unified  thematics.  This,  it  seems  to  me,  Strachey 
accomplished.  Bettelheim  would  disagree,  strenuously.  He  is  attacking  a 


21 


9 

sacred  cow  by  calling  into  question  The  Standard  Edition,  which  scholars 
and  laymen  have  gratefully  uscd  since  its  publication  between  1933  and 
1974.  The  extensive  annotations,  explanations,  cross  refercncing,  and  its 
official  authorization  by  the  Freud  family,  have  made  it  a  chief  source  of 
reference  for  those  seriously  committed  to  studying  Freud's  work. 
Bettelheim  irreverently  reveals  gaps  in  the  translation,  glaring  errors  of 
fact,  and  unteifable  misinterpretations  of  Freud's  major  texts»  including  the 
titles  of  his  works. 

For  Dettelheim,  The  Standard  Edition  does  a  disservice  to  Freud  because  it 
distances  the  reader  from  his  own  unconscious,  barring  access  to  his  own 
deepest  desires.  Freud  modernized  the  injunction  toknow  thyself  by  forcing 
his  audietKe  to  confront  what  is  darkest,  ugliest,  nK)st  untamed,  most 
disordered  in  themselves.  Freud's  insights,  Dettelheim  contends,  injure 
modern  human  beings'  narcissistic  image  of  themselves  as  dvilized, 
rational,  perfectable,  loving»  progressive,  dutifui,  and  harmonious. 
Misleading  and  incorrect  translations  subvert  Freud's  humanistic 
intentions;  consequently,  his  translators  are  responsible  for  a  "perversion  of 
the  original,"  proving,  oiKe  again,  how  the  translator  is  a  "traitor  to  the 
author." 

Bettelheim  explains  the  betrayal  of  Freud  by  his  —  admittedly  —  sclf- 
chosen  translators.  When  psychoanalysis  was  presented  to  English  and 
American  audiences,  the  analytical  side  was  given  a  privileged  position  over 
the  psychical  side.  Psyche,  Bettelheim  reminds  us,  means  soul,  emotion,  and 
the  human  conccived  in  an  unscientific  sense.  To  comprehend  the  psychc, 
Freud  held  that  one  had  to  know  and  deal  with  one's  unconscious  strivings, 
uhconscious  fantasies,  and  symbolic  representations.  This  form  of  knowing 
required  interpretation,  a  sustained  effort  to  get  beneath  the  surface  of 
things,  to  restore  the  psyche  to  its  latent  laycrs  of  mcaning.  The  Standard 
Edition  distorts  the  Spiritual  side  of  psychoanalysis  by  over-emphasizing 
analysis,  the  scientific  effort  to  break  down  and  to  disscct  the  mind. 
Scientiscs  tend  to  approach  the  mental  apparatus  from  the  outside,  thus 
disregarding  the  nuances,  metaphorical  quality,  poetic  and  imagistic 
Contents  of  the  soul.  For  Bettelheim  psychoanalysis  unquestionably  belongs 
to  the  humanistic  disciplines.  This  was  Freud's  intention.  It  is  consistent 
with  the  determining  influence  of  Goethe  on  Freud's  development  and 
methodology.  It  is  consistent  with  Bettelheim's  thesis  that  Freud's 
reflections  are  most  fully  synthesized  in  his  late,  cultural  texts. 
Unfortunately,  Freud's  translators  blunted  the  emotional  impact  of  what 
Freud  was  conveying  in  order  to  make  the  scientific  component  of  his 
discourse  palatable  to  the  "positivistic-pragmatic"  branch  of  study  so 
dominant  in  England  and  America.  The  clarity  and  definitiveness  of  Freud's 
writings  in  English  camoufluge  the  contradictions  and  ambiguities  of  the 
German  original.  The  Standard  Edition  obscures  the  spirit  as  well  as  the 
context  of  Freud's  ideas  by  transforming  what  is  essentially  a  human  science 
(a  branch  of  knowledge  much  closer  to  hermeneutical-spiritual  knowing) 
into  something  that  resembles  natural  science. 

22 


Bettelheim  detects  two  motives  that  underlie  the  mistranslations:  the  desire 
to  make  psychoanalysis  acceptable  to  a  medical  and  Psychiatric  Community 
in  England  and  America;  and  the  unconscious  wish  of  the  translators  to 
detach  themselves  from  the  emotional  impact  of  the  unconscious. 
Countering  recent  efforts  to  debunk  Freud  by  characterizing  him  as  an 
unoriginal,  anachronistic,  nineteenth-century  man  of  science,  Bettelheim 
Claims  that  Freud  evoked  from  a  biologist  to  a  theoretician  of  the  soul.  For 
evidential  value,  he  observes  that  Freud  rarely  cited  scientific  or  medical 
literature,  while  often  referring  to  or  paraphrasing  literary,  artistic,  and 
Philosophie  works.  Freud  wanted  the  psychoanalytic  profession  to  be  ideally 
composed  of  "seoilar  ministers  of  souls,"  that  is,  something  between  the 
physician  and  the  secular  priest.  There  is  no  doubt  that  Freud  borrowed 
from  and  contributed  to  psychology,  but  to  a  form  of  psychology  far 
removed  from  the  banalities  of  Anglo-Saxon  behaviorism  of'  the  gross 
obviousness  of  academic  psychology.  He  was  unconcerned  with  predictive  or 
readily  replicated  empirical  science.  Rather,  Freud's  psychology  was  tied  to  a 
hermeneutical  branch  of  philosophy  devoted  to  grasping  the  deeper,  buried, 
fragmented,  and  many-layered  nature  of  psychic  reality. 

Bettelheim's  most  telling  illustration  of  mistranslation  is  his  exegesis  of  the 
concept  of  soul  (in  German:  die  Seele).  Freud  clearly  and  distinctiy  meant 
soul  and  not  mind  or  mental  apparatus  (as  The  Standard  Edition  has 
rendered  it).  Bettelheim  has  rehabilitated  the  concept  of  soul  for  the 
psychoanalytic  profession,  while  affirming  a  militantly  secular  and 
Humanist  version  of  this  metaphor.  He  does  so  without  muting  Freud's 
lifelong  atheism  and  his  unwavering  distrust  of  wishfui  or  delusional 
thinking.  The  soul  ought  not  to  belong  exclusively  to  the  universe  of 
discourse  of  religious  thinkers,  Jungians,  or  mystics.  By  soul  Bettelheim 
means  people's  common  humanity,  their  essence,  their  most  valuable  traits, 
their  Spiritual  core.'  Soul  cannot  be  comprehended  precisely  without 
collapsing  its  emotional  and  vitalistic  resonances.  Soul  cannot  be  defined  or 
pinned  down.  Soul  is  one  of  those  broader  concepts  straddling  psychology 
and  language;  it  is  a  metaphor  that  Freud  employed  self-consciously  as  a 
metaphor.  It  evokes  both  an  intellectual  and  an  affective  response.  It  has 
nothing  whatsoever  to  do  with  the  supernatural,  with  a  religious  diety,  with 
salvation,  or  with  immortality.  As  a  secular  discipline,  it  is  not  incompatible 
for  psychoanalysis  to  be  concerned  with  Spiritual  endeavors.  The  g(Kxl 
psychoanalytic  researcher  investigates  the  underworld  of  the  soul.  He  treats 
the  soul  as  the  human  being's  most  prized  possession,  knows  that  the  soul 
requires  a  care  and  respect  —  a  love  —  not  to  be  mistaken  with  the  medical 
orientation  of  therapy  and  eure  for  the  body.  Bettelheim  contends  that 
Freud  never  wished  psychoanalysis  to  be  a  sub-specialty  of  the  medical 
profession.  The  text  he  cites  most  often  by  Freud  is  the  much  neglected 
Question  of  Lay  Analysis. 

Bettelheim  offers  other  tasty  examples  of  incorrect  English  constructions  of 
Freud's    seminal    concepts.    As    an    adherent    of    the    structural    model, 


23 


Bettelhcim'  shows  that  che  English  vcrsion  of  id,  cgo,  supcrego  radically 
falsifies  Freuds  original  German,  transforming  thcsc  living  aspccts  of  thc 
soul  into  cold.  rcified,  reductionistic  agencies  of  thc  mind,  totally  bluncing 
thc  affective  impact  on  thc  reader.  Freud  scicctcd  personal  pronouns  to 
namc  these  concepts;  Bettelhcim  restores  thc  it  (for  id),  1  or  mc  (for  cgo), 
and  above  I  (for  supcrego),  showing  how  thc  personal  pronouns  relate 
directly  to  thc  individual's  experiences,  thereby  arousing  his  associations, 
fantasies,  and  desircs.  The  personal  pronouns  allow  thc  reader  toget  inside 
thc  psychoanalytic  process  itscif;  they  allow  his  I  or  mc  to  borrow  from, 
coexisc  with,  achieve  rational  control  over,  thc  it.  He  rctranslates  thc 
famous  linc  from  Freud's  Thirty-first  lecture  in  thc  New  Introductory 
Lectures  on  Psychoanalysis  as  "Wherc  it  was,  therc  should  become  1."  Thc  I, 
in  brief,  does  not  unseat,  ridc,  or  oblitcratc  thc  it,  but  rathcr  thc  I  labors  to 
change  itself  in  significant  ways  in  order  to  achicvc  or  perpetuate  culturc. 

Therc  arc  othcr  semantic  rectifications  in  thc  Bettelhcim  volumc.  "Free 
association"  is  not  free  at  all  and  hc  urges  us  to  translatc  it  as  an  idea  or 
image  that  spontaneously  comes  to  mind.  Hc  translates  fcnding  off  or 
parrying  for  "defense,"  occupation  for  "cathexis,"  and  lapsc  for  "slips  of  thc 
tonguc."  Hc  revcals  a  double  error  in  thc  title  of  thc  1915  cssay,  "Instincts 
and  Their  Vicissinidcs,"  and  substimtes  "Drives  and  Their  Mutability."  For 
Civilization  and  Us  Discontenfs,  an  inspired  title  in  my  judgment, 
Bettelhcim  prcfcrs  a  more  litcral  The  Uneasiness  Inherent  in  Cuhure  —  a 
title  consistent  with  thc  undcrlying  Intention  of  thc  text  to  bc  sure,  but 
inconsistent  with  thc  artistic  underpinnings  and  imaginative  structure  of 
thc  cssay. 

However,  I  found  it  forced,  and  a  bit  illogical,  for  thc  translators  of  The 
Standard  Edihon,  Jtimcs  Strachey  and  Anna  Freud,  to  be  held  rcsponsible  for 
thc  positivistic,  empiricist,  and  mcdical-biological  slant  of  thcsc  twenty-four 
volumes,  cspecially  if  wc  remember  historically  that  both  Strachey  and 
Anna  Freud  wcre  lay  analysts,  both  were  analyzcd  by  Freud,  and  that  both 
were  deeply  trusted  by  Freud  and  members  of  his  estate.  Every  translation  is 
a  rewriting  and  a  reinterpretation.  Certainly,  therc  are  critical  inaccuracics, 
pretensions,  and  linguistic  probicms  in  The  Standard  Edition-,  often  thc 
multiplicity  of  mcaning,  thc  carthiness,  thc  wit,  thc  Jewish  humor,  and  thc 
poetry  of  Freud's  writings  arc  not  sufficiently  ficshcd  out. 

Ultimatcly,  Bettelhcim's  indictment  of  thc  translators  of  The  Standard 
Edition  is  exaggerated.  Ferhaps  purposcfully.  From  their  own  publishcd 
writings,  it  is  dear  that  Strachey  and  Anna  Freud  sought  to  anchor 
psychoanalysis  in  a  biological  framework  based  on  Freud's  early  energy 
modcl.  It  was  not  bad  faith  or  unconscious  motives  that  made  them  rcject 
Bettelhcim's  vcrsion  of  psychoanalysis  as  an  interpretive  science  with  its 
own  laws  and  techniques,  its  own,  primarily  hermeneutical,  sense  of 
exactitude  and  rescarch  stratcgics.  That  is,  Bettelhcim's  Freud  is  subjectivcly 
diffcrent  from  thc  Freud  of  Strachey  and  Anna  Freud;  different,  in  that  his 


24 


is  more  literary,  more  historical  and  archeological  in  meihixlology,  more 
cnamored  of  prehisiory  and  mythoJogy,  more  preoccupied  with  securing 
psychoanalysis  a  place  of  honor  in  cuhural  history,  less  interested  in 
establishing  its  verifiability  and  experimental  validity.  For  Bettelheim 
psychoanalysis  is  more  exciting  as  a  general  theory  of  culturc,  not  (as  for 

Anna  Freud  and  Stachey)  as  a  refined  instrument  of  therapy.  Bettelhcim 
secs  thc  complexity  in  Freud's  thought  by  explicating  his  gifts  as  a  writer: 
his  ability  to  operate  on  many  levcls  simultaneously,  his  deft  choice  of 
allusions  and  rcfcrcnccs,  his  capacity  to  touch  his  readers  affectively  and 
intellectually. 

If  Bettelhcim  makes  errors  in  emphasis,  hc  compensates  for  them  by  his 
candid  and  intransigent  humanism.  He  does  not  tediously  lament  thc 
current  (rathcr  continuous!)  crisis  or  decline  of  thc  humanities.  Instead,  he 
makes  a  strong  case  for  humanism.  In  thc  process,  he  recruits  Freud  to  a 
pivotal  Position  in  thc  modern  humanist  tradition,  albeit  a  hermeneutical- 
spiritual  one.  Bettelhcim's  humanism  is  oriented  toward  ihe  dynamic  of 
self-discovery,  toward  integrating  the  hidden  and  narcissistically  injurious 
tniths  about  onc's  inner  world.  His  is  a  demystifying  and  critical  humanism 
which  attempts  to  lay  bare  the  psycho-sexual  roots  of  human  beings'  psyche 
and  behavior.  This  form  of  humanism  is  neither  mawkish  nor  akin  to  the 
bclicf  in  Santa  Claus.  Bettelhcim  firmly  understands  the  determining  role  of 
thc  unconscious  in  symbol  formation,  inner  and  outer  representations  of 
reality,  and  in  thc  multiple  ways  in  which  individuals  deceive  themselves. 
Bettelhcim  practices  a  polemical  kind  of  psychoanalytic  culturc  criticism.  He 
discioses  thc  errors,  sophistry,  idiocy,  dangers,  and  silliness  (sometimes  all 
of  the  above)  in  his  opponcnt's  views.  Bettelhcim  has  a  vision  and  willingly 
argucs  it.  Hc  is  prepared  to  gcncralizc,  to  take  risks,  to  give  offense,  in  order 
to  stir  up  his  audience. 

Despite  its  negations,  I  read  this  cssay  as  esscntially  an  affirmative  work.  It 
is  writtcn  in  defense  of  culturc,  more  specifically  it  depicts  how  conflict 
works  both  to  gencrate  and  to  allow  thc  individual  to  comprchend  cultural 
creation.  Bettelhcim  secs  noend  to  the  individual's  antagonistic  relationship 
to  his  cnvironment,  no  end  to  intrapsychic  conflict.  He  accepts  these 
strugglcs  as  part  of  humanity's  cxistential  cursc.  Rathcr  than  be  wished 
away,  struggic  ought  to  bc  embraced.  It  is  not  accidental  that  the  feisty 
Bettelhcim  publishcd  this  work  first  in  The  New  Yorker,  the  weckly  that 
analysands  read.  It  appears  he  dccided  tactically  to  influence  thc 
psychoanalytic  Community  by  Coming  through  the  back  door,  analysts  would 
hear  his  message  via  the  analysands's  words  from  the  rouch.  Therc  is 
controlled  anger  in  his  writings,  a  certain  glec  in  Standing  apart,  a  pride  in 
pointing  out  thc  deficiencies  and  shallowness  of  American  culturc. 
Bettelhcim's  tendency  to  repeat  himself,  a  characteristic  flaw  in  all  of  his 
writings,  suggests  a  frustration  at  not  being  listened  to,  an  exasperation  at 
not  being  understood. 


25 


Despite  .ts  weakncsses.  its  sclf-rightcous  and  s.riden,  tone,  he  has  written  a 

p.nred  essay.  which  posits  char  knowledge  of  ,he  ,elf  and  ,hac   he^arch 

for  ,he  tnith  arc  at  che  cenrer  of  .he  psychoanalycic  project.  He  wrhe,  f  om 

an  .ndepcndent  and  free  .hinking  position.  one  which  ndicares  his  debTto 

ol;;"etrhr''  '":'•  "r""^ ''-  '^^  ^-^-  -<«  h-;  a„t : 

11  psychoanalysis    in    America.    Psychoanalysis     he 

cmphasrzes    was   never  des.gned   ro    n,ove  in   ,he  direction   of  s;Kial 

anx.et.es  of  any  c.v.hzat.on.  In  the  midst  of  ,he  contemporary  malaise  of 
psychoanalys.s.    the   essay    is   an   eloquent   testimony   to  the   neei    fo 
humaneness    truthfulness.  compassion.  and  courage  on  the  part  of  the 
psychoanalync  researcher  and  practitioner  in  pursuit  of  the  buricS  meani^g 
of  hun^an.tys  .nner  life.  Bettelheim,  finaily.  enjoin,  u,  to  renirn Tthe 

rtL':'or;rd^r  ^i'y^r^^^^^^^^^     — -  ^  p-- 

intet.i„ab,e^  but   Be.te.heL"  :;r  hV"!rtic:Mr 

undeterrcd.  He  wou  d  aaree  with  T  <;   Bi;«.  ;~         •  prucess,  ts 

sustain  the  journey:  °'  '"  '"'"'"'"«  "'  '°  ''•""^*'  »"'' 

Wc  shall  not  ccasc  from  exploration, 
And  the  cnd  of  all  our  cxploring 
Will  bc  to  arrivc  wherc  wc  startcd 
And  know  the  place  for  the  first  time. 


LOS 
ANGELES 

PSYCHOANALYTIC 

BULLETIN 


:  iyoLiy^.Ndi;Ägt»«a?83|i|ilf  ii«^^ 


INTERVIEW  WITH  DR.  ALBERT  MASON 
by  F.  Robert  Rodman,  MD. 

AS  I  REMEMBER  HER 
by  Rudolf  Ekstcin,  PhD. 

BOOK  REVIEW: 

Freud  and  Man 's  Soul  by  Bruno  Bctteiheim 

Rcvicwcd  by  David  James  Fishcr,  Ph.D. 

REMARKS  by  Ivan  McGuire,  MD. 
(with  introduction  by  Samuel  Wilson,  M.D.) 

REPORT  OF:  The  Presencation  entided 
**Preoccupacion  and  die  Analytic  Situation" 
by  Melvin  Lansky,  M.D. 
Reported  by  Joseph  Jones,  M.D. 

REPORT  OF:  The  Presentation  entitled 

**A  Psychoanalytic  Exploration  of  Michelangelo's  Histories 

in  the  Sistine  Chapel" 

by  Jerome  Oremland,  M.D 

Reported  by  Qay  Whitehead,  M.D. 


17 


20 


27 


32 


34 


m 


•I  A.  psyciioanai.yth:  s<x:iety  a  insiiiute 


|Reprliilrtl  frooi  Amiajcan  Imaco«  Vol.  SS.  No.  I»  Spring.  197fl| 


Siginiinci  Frciul  and  Romain  Rolland: 

The  Tericstrial  Animal  and  His 

Great  Oceanic  Friend 


Sigmund  Freud  and  Romain  Rolland: 

The  Tcrrestrial  Animal  and  His 

Great  Oceanic  Friend 


tty 

ÜAVIÜ  JAJMES  FISIIER 


IReprlnied  fiu.n  Amciican  |mac4i.  Vol.  SJ.  No.  |.  Spring. 


1916\ 


".  •  .1  may  confcss  to  you  lliat  I  havc  rarcly  rxpcricnccd 
tliat  mystciious  actraction  of  one  human  bcing  for  anodier 
ai  vividly  as  I  havc  with  you;  it  is  lomchow  bound  up» 
pcrhaps,  wich  ihc  awarcncss  of  our  bcing  so  diffcrcot/* 

Freud  to  Rolland 
May,  19S1 

THE  FREUD  ROLLAND  CORRESPONDENCE: 

Fl  VE  NEW  LETFERS 
Eoitok'b  Note 

"  David  James  Fbher,  now  a  membcrof  tlic  Htstory  Depart- 
ment at  thc  University  of  Illinois  (Urbana  Champaign) ,  did 
rescarch  at  thc  Archivcs  Romain  Rolland  in  Paris  between 
1971  and  1975  and  came  acrojs  five  unpublished  Ictiers  from 
Freud  to  Rolland.  Tlirough  his  cfforu,  copies  wcrc  placed 
in  thc  Sigmund  Freud  Copyrights,  wlildi  granted  pcnnission 
for  their  reproduction  in  tJüs  articie« 

••  Two  or  threc  of  thc  letters  arc  of  somc  significancc.  Thc 
first.  dated  March  2.  1923,  acknowledges  thc  gifi  of  Rolland'i 
"  Liluli/'  which  ironicaliy  dcflates  illusions  aisociated  with  war. 
Ernest  Jones  (1957)  states  llial  thc  book  was  sent  by  tlic 
French  author  on  Fcb.  23  along  with  tlic  revelation  that  he 
had  bcen  following  Freud's  writings  for  twenty  years,  Tlic 
sccond  Ictter,  written  by  Freud  on  June  15,  1924,  rcfcn  to  a 
pcnonal  visil  by  Rolland  to  himself  and  to  his  daughter  Anna, 
and  coniains  a  rare  hint  of  a  wish  for  death  as  hc  waj 
suffering  severe  pain  connected  wiüi  his  Cancer.    A  mcssagc 


David  Jaincs  Fislicr 


atknoivlcdgiiig  Rolland's  congmliilations  oii  liis  ciglitictli 
binhday  js  a  rcinlndcr  not  only  of  Frciuls  rncmorablc  Icilcr 
aboia  liis  "  Memory  "  of  tlic  Acropolis,  wrilicn  on  tlic  occasion 
of  Rollaiuls  scvcniicili  binhday.  biic  of  thc  special  nieasiirc 
be  goi  froiii  Kolland   (Jones  1057). 

Mr.   lisber'j  docioral  dissertation.  Romain  Rolland  and 
ihe  (lucUion  of  ihe  Inielleclual,  will  bc  pnblislied  in  I97C/' 

Frcud's  rclationship  wiih  Komain  Rolland  spans  tbe  ycari 
1923  lo  1939.  It  began  whcn  ibc  Iwo,  aged  sixly-scvcn  and 
fifty  seven  ycars  rcspectively,  bad  rcacbed  incellcctual  maturiiy. 
Vase  diflercnces  separalcd  tliem,  and  ibcir  controvcrsics  on 
rcligious  Sensation,  on  psychoanalysis,  and  on  mysticism  sprang 
partly  from  divergent  cultnral  and  social  formations.  Central 
Knro|>ean  and  Jewisli,  Freud  was  beir  to  tlic  ninetcentb  cen- 
tnrys  evoliitionary  and  raiionaliit  traditions.  VVhilc  also 
straddling  thc  two  ccntnries,  Rolland  was  Frencb  and  Catholic, 
a  professional  bistorian  and  nuisicologist  by  training.  an 
artist.  novclist.  and  biographer  of  cpic  bcroes.  Morcovcr,  ibcir 
Personalities  contrasted  wjdcly. 

After  thc  publication  of  thc  Frcudjnng  correspondcncc, 
scbolars  now  agree  that  Frcud's  pcrsonality  dccisivcly  stamped 
itscif  u|>on  thc  cvolution  of  psychoanalytic  theory  and  practicc.« 
Wc  sball  sec  how  and  wby  Freuds  cbaracter  playcd  an  cnlg- 
maiic  rolc  in  bis  fricndship  witli  thc  Frencb  Nobel  laurcatc. 
Ilecansc  bc  was  unablc  lo  separate  men  from  tlieir  Idcas.« 
Freuds  exchanges  witli  Rolland  wcrc  at  oncc  intimatc  and 
maikcd  by  personal  friciions.  In  tbc  latc  1920'j  and  carly 
I930'i,  thcy  rcacbed  an  impassc  on  thc  qnestlon  of  thc  orlgini 
and  significancc  of  ihc  "  occanic  "  Sensation,  Freuds  mixed 
feelings  for  Rolland  surfaced  again  hi  bis  1936  paper,  "A 
Disiurbancc  of  Memory  on  thc  Acro|)olis;*  written  to  celc'biTitc 
thc  Frencb  wriiers  sevcntielh  birthday.    On  thc  other  band, 

•William    McCulie.  ccl      T|.^   Com^pondenc^   Delu^ien   Sif^mund   Fuuä  0nä 
C.  C.  yun^  (P.I.Kclon.  IU7<) .  OamhuJ  b,  H.l,.h  Mai.nhcln,  i,n.l  R    F   C   llull 
AI.«  con.uli  Lionel  TrllllnK.  -  I  l.e  Frcoa/junK  Ul.c...-   i/..  Nn^YorkTi^^^^^^ 

M»--  rTr'  ^n-    "^'.V'.r  '•  '''  "^    ^'-""^  ^'^^•-  -^  5,>ccl.l  Kellet 


Sigmund  Freud  and  Romain  Rolland 


Rolland  opposed  various  kcy  assumptions  of  tbc  psychoanalytic 
metliod  for  personal  and  intuitive  reasons.  Thc  intellectual 
paths  of  Freud  and  Rolland  crisscrossed  at  a  timc  whcn  a  wider 
European  elfort  was  under  way  lo  grasp  thc  broader  ini|>ort 
of  a  recciitly  ruptured  civilization« 

•       •       •       •       • 

Tbc  Freud  Rolland  rclationship  began  fratemally  in  Feb- 
rurary,  1923.  On  thc  nintb  of  ibat  month,  Freud  wrotc  a 
Short  Ictter  to  thc  Frencb  scienttst  and  aesthctician,  Edouard 
Monodllcrzen.  thanking  bim  for  bis  cxpression  of  "human 
sympatby."  Tbis  simple  gesture  bad  momcntarily  dispellcd 
thc  atmos|)here  of  distrust  wliicb,  according  to  Freud,  permeated 
post  war  Fiiropc.  Freud  extendcd  Monod-Herzen'i  cxpression 
of  fellowship  by  asking  bim  to  convcy  bis  greelings  to  Rolland: 
"  Since  you  are  a  friend  of  Roman  Rolland,  niay  I  ask  you  to 
pass  on  to  bim  a  word  of  respect  from  an  unknown  admircr."  • 

After  recciving  Frcud's  grccting  from  Monod-Hcrzen, 
Rolland  replied  promptly  on  February  22.  1923  with  hu  firit 
personal  Ictter  to  Freud.  Ilc  admitted  with  pridc  that  hc  had 
been  one  of  thc  firsi  Frcncbmen  to  appreciatc  Freud'i  wriiings, 
liaving  discovered  The  Inicrpretation  of  Dreams  somc  Iwenty 
years  earlier,  long  before  thc  world  bad  recognized  Frcud'i 
gcniui.  Ilc  playcd  on  Frcud's  pbrasc.  "unknown  admircr," 
by  gcntly  flattcring  tbc  Viennesc  pbysician:  bc  indicated  that 
Stefan  Zweig  and  bc  bad  ofien  discussed  Freud.  Rolland  used 
thc  metaphor  of  exploration  lo  describe  thc  impacl  of  Frcud's 
discovcries:  "You  havc  been  ihc  Christopher  Columbus  of  a 
new  continent  of  tbe  mind."  Wbilc  many  arlisu  and  philos- 
ophers bad  already  discovered  ibc  unconscious,  ibey  had 
arrived  ai  their  perceptions  bapbazardly.  Freud  offercd  a 
systematic  access  lo  thc  mind;  bis  •*  conquesu  "  wcrc  advancing 
noi  only  other  branches  of  psychology  and  medicine,  bui  wcrc 
also  benehting  men  invoived  in  litcrary  aciiviiy.  Rolland 
confcssed  that  Frcud's  "subliminal  vislons'*  corresponded  lo 
"  somc  of  [bis]  intuitions." 

Ilc  atiributcd  thc  nielancholy  in  Frcud's  Ictter  to  Monod- 
Herzen   to  thc   "  present  miseries "  of  living  in   a  defeatcd 

■Ulicr.  Ffciitl  lo  Eiloiiaid  Moiio«!  Ileiicfi.  Feb.  9.  I92S.  In  Emil  L.  Freud 
eil..  LeUtn  Ol  Sigmunä  frn»ä  li7J'l9)9  (Loficloo.  WO),  CnnilaietI  by  Tania 
•iiü  Jairtci  Sicni,  p.  U6.     (Ilcieaficr  dlcd  u  frtuJ  LtlUn) 


Davit]  Jaincs  Fislicr 


liatcd  by  ilic  prcscncc  of  anci  Scmiiisiii  in  posi  war  Central 
Europc,  was  not  coiuluctivc  to  (aitli  in  illnsioiis.  llccaiisc 
Frciicli  scientific  mcilicxl  proccccicd  by  tcaring  away  tbc  ni.isks 
wliicb  bid  buinan  dcfcnses.  fcars.  aiid  dcsircs,  bis  tecbnicjiic 
oficn  provcd  to  bc  a  painfid  oiic,  liowcvcr  tlierapcutic.  In 
luidcrminding  bunian  scUdcccption.  bc  had  not  sparcd  bim- 
seif.  ••  A  grcai  pari  of  niy  lifc's  work  (I  am  10  years  older  tban 
yoii)  bas  becn  spent  trying  to  dcstroy  ilinsions  of  iny  own  and 
tbosc  of  mankind." 

Freud  tbougbc  tbat  Rolland  inigbt  be  Intcrcsted  in  bis 
prcliminary  elforts,  bowcver  transiiional,  to  move  from  an 
analysis  of  individual  psycbes  to  tbose  of  society.  Tbus.  besidcs 
scnding  bim  a  copy  of  Groufß  Psychology  and  Analysis  oj  ihc 
Ego  (1921),  not  a  '  particularly  succcssfui  *•  work,  be  tbrew 
out  a  daring  Observation:  '*  It  is  surely  bard  enongb  to  perscrvc 
tlie  continuation  of  oiir  spccies  in  tbe  conllict  bctween  our 
instinctual  naiurc  and  tbc  dcinands  niadc  npon  \i%  by  civili- 
lation.  •  (Freud  Leiiers,  p.  347)  Freuds  preoccupation  witli 
bis  old  age,  bis  Jcwijhncss,  bis  Kicnce,  and  tbc  dilcinma  of 
tbc  individual's  rclaiiönsbip  to  bis  society  recurs  tbrougbout 
tbc  Freud  Rolland  rclaiiönsbip. 

Rolland  reactcd  to  Frcud's  finl  Ictter  by  comnicnttng  tbat 
II  was  wriiten  witli  *  inncb  bitlcrncss/'  primarily  because  of 
Freuds  dual  bürden:  tiiat  of  being  a  "  dcstroyerof  illusions  " 
and  of  bearing  tbc  bcavy  weigbt  of  bcing  Jewisb,  "  proscribVd 
and  buniiliated  in  tbe  Middlc  Agcs  and  now  again  madc 
resi>onsible  in  Austria  for  tbe  war,  in  Cermany  for  tbc  dii- 
astrons  peacc/*  Above  all,  Rolland  found  Freud  -verv 
IHTssimistic  about  tbc  futurc  of  bumanity."« 

Soon  after  recciving  Freuds  Ictter,  Rolland  inaiied  bim  a 
copy  of  li7u/i  (1919)  ~a  play  wbicb  ironically  dcflated  con- 
temporary  mystiricalions  about  modern  warfarc.  Freud  was 
touclied  by  tbc  gift  and  by  Rolland',  personal  dedicatlon, 
wbicli  IS  now  unforlunately  lost.  Tbc  tone  of  Freuds  Ictter  of 
acknowledgemcnl  is  onc  of  warmdi  and  affection  for  tbc  Frencli 

.n7,::::i:j:i'r;j'«i:x"i  i:'-'- "—  -••-  •--<«  M.„b  <.  i«, 


Sigmund  Freud  and  Romain  Rolland 


Marcb  12,  1923 
Dcar  Fricnd 

Tbank  you  very  mucb  for  tbe  small 
book.    I  bave  of  course  becn  long  familiär 
wiib  iis  tcrriblc  bcauty.    I  find  tbc 
subtie  irony  of  your  dedication  well 
deservcd  since  I  liad  completely  forgotten 
LUtili  wbcii  I  wrote  tbc  silly  passagc 
in  question  in  my  Ictter,  and  obviously 
onc  ougbt  not  to  do  tbat. 

Across  all  boundaries  and  bridges, 
I  would  likc  to  press  your  band. 

Freud  • 

Freud  read  a  newspaper  account  of  Rolland's  planned 
Visit  to  Vicnna  '•  and  asked  Zweig  to  arrangc  a  meeting  bctween 
Rolland  and  bimself: 

• 

On  rcading  in  llie  paper  tliat  Romain  Rolland  ii  in  Vicnna 
1  iinincdialcly  (cU  llie  d«ire  lo  makc  the  personal  acquain- 
lance  of  the  man  I  liave  rcvcrcd  from  afar.  But  I  did  not 
know  Low  IG  approach  him.  I  was  all  (he  more  plcaied  to 
hcar  from  you  (hat  he  wants  to  visit  me,  and  I  hauen  to 
submit  to  you  my  auggestions. 

Freud  cxprcjjcd  cnthusiasm  about  the  prospect  of  meeting 
Zweigt  ••  great  fricnd/*  as  well  as some  concem  about  Rolland*» 
precarioui  health.  (Rolland  suffered  Crom  insomnia  and  a 
chronic  bronchial  condition.)     Still  feeling  icvere  discomfort 

SIcmund  Ficud  Coprilghw  Li.l.  (or  tulhorluilon  lo  publUh  ihb  "od  ü^e  l^r 
o.h.r  «npub.Uh.d  [«..,.  (nH.  F,<ud  ,o  Ro.Und.    I  -Tould  IIU  ,o  ^.iS« 

HU€l<tu»UuMm  IruncU.  FacMll,  o(  Mtditlne.  Tari,.  I9M    ^„uUru   t^ 

leiten  in  Frcnth;    ibe  IramUilo...  miy  be  RolUnd-;  ^   ^"^'^* 

"For  dculti  aboui  Rollondi  imo  weck  ioioiun    ibe  roaln  oLIrr«  «l  _i.i^ 

SIrauu    €t    ilümatn    itollanä,      Cotrtiüondanca    Fwam^^^t.    a^    t  .    !^ 

1951)  pp.  59  M.  ,0«:  ic.,„.  RoG  r^uurzwj'i;:.™  M  *m^- 

A.  R.  R.:   ...d  leller  Slelan  Zwei,  lo  Fiideiike  Zwei.   M..  IJ    i«l    x\)^^' 


2G 


David  James   Fislicr 


iiiorc  icil  or  siipcrior.  Wliilc  iioi  dciiyinp;  llic  iinif|iicncss 
niul  slr€fi);ili  o(  ilicsc  coiiipciing  (oucs.  Kollaiul  asscilcd  lliat 
iiiai)  was  capahic  of  rcroiic ilii)g  ilicriii  nnd  of  acliicviiijr  a  <lcsir- 
ablc  wliolcncss.  As  a  roritclivc  lo  IicimIs  iinlialancc,  Rolland 
oircrcd  ilic  llcraclitiaii  aiid  iiiiisical  idcal-ilic  task  of  suiving 
for  llic  rcsoliihon  of  clasliiii^;  forces.  For  liirii.  thc  "  liighcsl 
joy "  coiuislcd  in  tlie  pcrfcct  rcali/alion  of  a  psycliological 
liannoiiy.  Acliialixing  tliis  ideal  implied  iiciiher  llic  suhor- 
dinaiioii  of  "  seeing.  helievini^.  ami  douliiing  "  totlicunfettercd 
play  of  llic  iinconsciotis.  nor  did  il  precliidc  ihc  rolc  of  iniiiilivc 
and  non-raiioiial  forccs.** 

Ilaving  compleied  llic  draft  of  liis  book  in  Jiily  1929, 
Ficiid  piiblislied  Civiliialion  and  Id  Üiscouteiils  lalc  lliat  ycar, 
heforc  Rolland's  iliice  voliinic  work  appearcd.  Ilis  csteem 
for  Rolland— ilis  allusions  lo  tlic  Frencli  wriicr  as  '*  oiic  of  llic 
cxcepiional  fcw,"  "  llie  fiiend  wliom  I  so  iiuicli  lionor  "--wcnt 
liand  in  lianii  willi  cffons  lo  considcr  Rolland's  objeciions  lo 
The  Futurc  of  a|i  Illusion.  CIcarly,  Freud  liad  Rolland  in 
niiiul  wlicn  lic  spokc  of  ilic  '*greai  inen"  wlio  wcrc  admired 
liy  ilicir  conicm|>orarles,  wlio  did  noi  iisc  "  falsc  slandaids  ot 
ineasurenicnt/'  and  wlio  comprclicnded  "  wliat  is  of  valnc  in 
lifc."  In  a  fooinoic  added  in  1931,  Freud  cnded  ilic  aecr^cy 
and  Italed  cxpliciily:  "  1  nced  no  longcr  liidc  llic  fact  llial  llic 
fricnd  spokcn  of  in  llic  lexl  is  Romain  Rolland."  '' 

In  llic  firsi  chapicr,  Frcnd  disciissed  Rolland's  asscriion 
llial  llic  "oceanic"  was  llic  viial  soiircc  of  religious  ciiergy. 
Ycl,  hc  began  bis  analysis  by  ideiuifying  Rolland  wiili  llic 
defense  of  illusion.  Hc  poinicd  lo  LiluU  (1919)  as  a  poem 
in  wliicli  llic  Frencli  antlior  liad  "once  praiseil  llic  niagic  of 
illusion."  '*  lierc,  FVeud  was  iiiisiaken;  Liluli  was  a  play  and 
noi  a  |>oein,  and  aliboiigb  il  conlained  somc  vcrsc,  it  was  an 
Arisiophanic  farcc  wliicIi  aliackcd  war  in  parlicular  as  man- 
kind's  greaiesi  folly  and  in  gcncral  all  iliosc  illnsions  and 
lies  wbicli  liad  coniribiiicd  lo  inass  desirnclion.'*     Secondly, 

•*Ullcr.  Rolland  lo  FreuJ.  Jiil|   19.  1929.  A.  R.  R. 

'*  Sidinuiicl  Ifcutl.  Civitiialion  anä  lli  üUconlenlt  (I9S0)  ,  Standard  Edition, 
XXI,  p.  GS.  n.  I. 

••  Ibid,  p.  66. 

«•Romain  Ruiland.  t.ituU  (Parli.  1919):  Cor  Rollanila  CNplanailon  of  Mi 
InlnilluM  In  liluli,  coniiili  Iciicr  hom  Rolland  lo  liiai  de  iliionvillc,  Ma«  IS, 
I9:;U  In  Un  D^au  yita^e  A    loui  Sgm,  pp.  161,  I6S. 


Sigmund  Ficiid  and  Romain  Rolland 


27 


Frcnd's  discrelion  aboui  Rolland's  ideniiiy  was  unnecessary; 
liiere  ivas  no  reason  for  bim  "  lo  liide  "  ibal  Rolland  was  ihe 
man  allnded  lo  in  tlic  Icxi,  for  llic  Frencli  wriier  bad  Iwicc 
granled  Freud  permission  lo  usc  bis  rcmarks  in  llicir  Iclicrs. 
1  lins,  ibc  essay  opens  wiib  a  conibinalion  of  praisc  and  sliglit 
blanie.  aiid  a  loucb  of  seif  conscious  lescrvc  ioward  Rolland. 
Evidenily.  Rollands  posiiion  causcd  Freud  "  no  small  di(f|. 
culiy." 

As  bc  moved  inio  ihc  inierpreiaiivc  scciions,  Freud 
sandwicbcci  bis  argnmenl  beiween  undersialcmenis  and  qualiß- 
calions.  Ilc  admiiied  bonesily  iliai  bc  bad  ncvcr  cxpcrienccd 
religious  sensalions,  and  lliai  iliey  werc  exiremely  unsuilablc 
for  psycboanalyiic  cvaluaiion:  "  I  cannot  discovcr  Ibis'  oceanic  * 
feeling  in  myscif.  Ii  is  noi  easy  lo  deal  scicniifically  willi 
feclings."*«  And  again;  "  Lei  nie  admii  once  morc  ibal  it  is 
very  difficull  for  nie  lo  work  wiib  ibcsc  alinosl  iniangiblc 
quanliiies."  •* 

Aller  suinmarizing  accuratcly  (wiibout  direclly  quoiiiig 
Rolland's  descriplion  of  ilic  "  oceanic  "  feeling) ,  Freud  focuscd 
bis  discussion  noi  on  llic  pbysiological  cbaracierisiics  of  ihc 
Sensation,  bul  raiber  "  on  ibc  ideaiional  conieni  wbich  is 
inost  rcadily  associaied  wiib  ibc  feeling."  "  Hc  suggeslcd  lliai 
llic  "oceanic"  feeling  consolcd  man  regarding  bis  niorlaliiy 
and  ibc  unccrlainiy  of  mucb  of  bis  exisiencc.  Willioul  dcnying 
ibc  cxisicncc  of  ibc  sensaiion,  bc  qnesiioncd  wbcibcr  il  was 
ibc  source  of  man's  religious  nceds  or  ibc  mosi  clemeniary  of 
inan's  cmoiions.  "  From  my  own  experiencc  Icould  not 
conviiicc  myself  of  (bc  primary  naiurc  of  sucb  a  feeling."" 
Tbc  "oceanic"  cmanaied  from  a  siagc  in  üic  cbild's  dcvelop- 
mcnl  wlicrc  ibcrc  werc  fcwer  dislinclions  beiwccn  ibc  cgo  and 
llic  World,  wbcrc  an  "  iniimaic  bond  "  connccled  ibc  cbild'i 
seif  and  bis  immcdialc  surroundings,  cspecially  bis  moibcr.  In 
adulis,  il  was  noi  coniradictory  for  ibc  feeling  of  "  oneness 

**  Civiliialion  and  lU  DitconUnts,  p.  65. 

••  Ibid.  p.  72. 

*•  Ibid.,  p.  6S.  Ralhcr  fliaii  cvaluale  llie  pliyilologlcil  baali  of  niplldim. 
Of  diicusi  Ihc  link  bclwccn  iiiyillclsin  and  Iranccs.  Freud  dioppcd  ihc  luuc«  bi 
quoiiiig  a  icii  fiom  SchUlcr.  I'«»»ibljr.  ihe  unnamed  "anoihcr  fricnd  of  lolne* 
U  an   alluiluii   lo   Rolland,    (pp.   1212) 

•'  Ibid..  p.  6$. 


Ü8 


David  Jariics   Fislicr 


witli  llic  iiiiivcrsc "  lo  cocxist  wich  lliosc  inoic  dcvclopccl 
iiagcs  of  ihc  cgo  in  whicli  thc  cgo  (uiictioiicd  siinullancoiisly  to 
scpaiatc  ihc  seif  froni  tlic  cxtcrnal  woild  and  lo  dcfcnd  llic 
seif  agaJDst  Ihc  "sciisalioris  of  iinpicasiire/*  Sincc  |)$ycho- 
aiialysis  |K)5iicd  tliat  iio  pliasc  of  llic  psychc  was  cvcr  dcsiroycd, 
it  followcd  ihai  Kollaiid*s  **  occanic  "  scnsaiions  wcrc  prtscrval 
rcsidiics  of  primilivc  fctiings  whicli  could  hc  diffcicniialcd 
fioiii  oilicr  iiiorc  niaiiirc  aspccu  of  ihc  iiiiiul,  spccifically  i(s 
criiiral  capaciiy.  Thoiigh  ilicrc  was  iio  ncccssary  disparity 
hclwccii  (ccling  ihc  '•occanic"  and  bcing  capaldc  of  conscious 
"  rcaliiy  icsliiig."  Freud  indicaicd  ihai  pathology  oficn  icsiiltcd 
wlicn  oiic  bilirrcd  ihc  bonndary  linc  bclwccn  ihc  cgo  and  ilic 
cxicinal  World.** 

Ilowcvcr,  in  graniing  lliai  ihc  •'occanic"  was  "a  pnrcly 
snl)jcciivc  facl/*  Frcnd  contcstcd  ihat  ii  was  ihc  fundamental 
sonitc  of  rcligious  cnci^'y.  VVhilc  hc  liaccd  sncli  all  embiacing 
fcciings  lo  ••an^*  carly  pliasc  of  ihc  niind's  dcvclopmeni,  hc 
hcld  ihal  i(  did  not  incamatc  inan's  strongest  and  riiosi 
rccurring  fears  and  wislics.  Thus.  hc  rclcgaicd  Rolland*« 
"occanic"  fcciing  inlp  ihc  hackground  as  a  sccondary  manl- 
fcsiaiioii  of  ihc  cgo,  and  rcpcalcd  cmphaiically  ihc  niain  ilicsis 
of  Th€  Fuiurc  of  an  llhuion  wiih  rcspcci  lothciiciiroiicorigins 
of  rcligion: 

Thc  dcrivaiion  of  rcligious  nccds  froni  Ihc  infani's 
hclplcssncss  and  ihc  longing  for  thc  fallier  aroujcd  by  U 
seein  lo  mc  incoutrovertiblc,  cspccially  sincc  Ihc  fecling 
is  nol  simply  prolonged  from  childhood  days,  bul  is 
pcmianenlly  susiained  by  fear  of  ihc  aiipcrior  power  of 
Faic.  I  cannot  ihink  of  any  nced  in  childhood  as  suong  as 
llic  nced  for  thc  failicr'i  proiecüon.** 

Ilcncc.  it  was  thc  oedipal  conriguraiion  deriving  fioin  infantile 
helplcssness  whicli  funiishcd  llic  nccds  and  amhivalcni  cncrgics 
in  rcligious  bclicvcrt. 

Aj  for  as  thc  origini  of  Rolland's  •'occanic"  scntimcnt, 
Freud  loised  out  Iwo  speculations,  boih  of  whicli  hc  Icft  in 

••  Ibid.,  p.  66, 

"/6iJ.  p.  72   (ray  llallci). 


Sigmund  Freud  and  Romain  Rolland 


29 


fragmciiiary  form.  First,  thc  "occanic"  might  correspond 
lo  ihe  narcissistic  funclion  of  thc  cgo,  maxiinized  to  includc  a 
fecling  of  lovc  for  thc  world  (\ .  .miglii  seelc  somelhing  likc 
Ihc  rcsioraiion  of  limitless  narcissisin  ")  .  Secondly,  llic  fecling 
mighl  derivc  from  Ihc  cgo's  elforls  to  ward  off  concrcic  dangers 
in  thc  cxtcrnal  world  by  mcans  of  a  total  idcnlificaiion  with 
ihe  universc.  Thc  "occanic"  was  consoling  bccausc,  ihrough 
Ihc  process  of  incorporalion,  thc  threalening  aspecis  of  reality 
iverc  nciitralizcd  and/or  absorbcd  ("a  first  attcinpt  at  a 
rcligious  consolaiion,  as  ihough  it  wcrc  anoihcr  way  of  dis- 
clainiing  die  danger  wliich  thc  cgo  recognizes  as  threalening  it 
from  llic  cxtcrnal  world  ")  .•* 

Rolland  publishcd  bis  most  susiained  defense  of  thc 
"occanic"  Sensation  in  bis  threc  voluinc  Essay  on  Alysticism 
and  Action  in  Living  Inäia.  Whilc  answering  Freuds  critiquc 
of  myslicisni  in  thc  intiodiiciion  and  appendix  of  ihc  work, 
hc  also  cliallcnged  traditional  postulates  of  scientific  invesii- 
gaiion  in  gcncral  and  of  psychoanalysis  in  particular.  This  did 
not.  howcvcr,  prevent  Rolland  froru  prcssing  for  a  scientific 
inquiry  iiiio  mystical  cx|>criencc. 

European  scientisu  and  psychoanalysis  wcrc  obstructing 
llic  cflorts  of  civiliiaiional  intcrpcnctration  by  waging  a  baitlc 
against  rcligion  on  two  fronis:  thcy  condcinncd  thc  rcligious 
consciousncss  wiihout  liaving  cxpcrimcnted  with  thc  faci  of 
rcligious  expcricncc,  and  thcy  confused  thc  articulation  and 
ritualiiation  of  rcligious  fcciings  with  thc  intcnsity,  durabiliiy, 
and  imaginative  possibiliiicsof  such"  spontaneouscniptions/'  •» 
To  correct  thc  superficial  treaiment  of  rcligion  by  twcnticth 
Century 'i  "extreme  rationalisu,"  Rolland  madc  a  casc  for 
Hindu  mysticism.  Through  thc  study  of  two  cxemplary 
Indian  pcrsonalities,  and  by  mcans  of  compari^ons  with  Wes- 
tern forms  of  mysiicisin  and  music/*  hc  providcd  thc  deuils 


••  Ibid..  p.  72. 

••  Rumalti  Ruiland.  rh$  Lift  of  llamäktUhna  (Calcuili.  1970).  Iraruliled  by 
E,  F.  Maiculm  SiolUi.  pp.  i5.  Thli  was  fini  piiblulictJ  u  £jiai  jur  U 
myiti4iu€  €t  l'aaion  de  l'lndß  vivAnU:    U  VU  dt  lUmaktuhntL    (Paili,   I92<|) 

••AI   Ihe  aamc    llmc    Ihac    KolUnd   wa«    wililng  on    Hindu   nitiilcUni    he 
wti   uroikliiB  on   ilie  carif   voliiiuct  of  hU   masilvc   iiudy   of   Beethoven;     kjc 
Romain  Rolland,  bttihovcn,     Let  Cranäet  ifoquet  aiaUUti  d§  tlUroiqus  i 
l'ApfHinhnaU   (Paili.  1928)   and  Romain  Rolland.  Coel/i«  <f  Beelhovcn   (PaiU 


50 


David  James  Fiilicr 


aiiil  an  hhiorirar  pniiit  of  .Icpariiirc  Un   furilicr  knowlcdge 
alHJiit  iion  rational  iikkIcs  of  pcrccption  and  cxijccncc. 

Tlic  scclion  cniiilcd  "  ConccrninK  Mys«<c  Inirovcrjion  and 
llic  Scicniific  Valuc  for  Iti  Kno»vlt<rj;c  of  ilic  Kcal  "  prcsup- 
posc.l  ihat  jticnrc  and  rcligion  werc  not  incoinpaiihlc.  D.spiic 
ll.cir  distinci  nio<lci  of  appli.ation.  botli  wtrc  roads  to  frccdom 
wayi  of  knowiiiK  •""'«l  aitaininK  llic  iruili.    Tlie  probicm  witli 
Ihc  n.odcrn  scientific  approacli  to  rcligion  was  its  tcndcncy  to 
analyzc  cxicrnals  and  in  roinniciisuralc  iiial>ility  lo  pcnctratc 
t.i  thc  dcpilis  of  ihc  rcli|;Jou]  niind.  Nonctlicltss.  tlic  "  occanic  " 
Sensation  was  not  conipiclicnsibk  l>y  known  nicilio<ls  of  ilie 
liilcllcctual  diakctic."     Coiiscc|Mcntly.    Rolland    nrKcd    ll.at 
Jcicntists  study  Iransccndent  states  of  conscioiisncss  and  dccp 
inirovcision    (mysticisin)-lic  horrowcd  tlic  tcrin  froin  C.  G 
Jung-in  Order  to  compictc  tlicir  cxplanatioiu  of  llie  niinds 
total  activity.** 

To   study    inysticism    olijcctively.    ilie   spirit   of   William 
James,  not  of  I-rpud,  lud  to  bc  cmulated."    Rolland  iicld  tliat 
scientists    slioiild    stop    dissociating    rcason    fioin    intuiticm 
Scientists  sliould  atknowlcdgc  ll.c  legitimacy  of  "generative 
int.iiiions"  in  all  mental  activity.  incinding  tl.cory  buildioK 
and    Interpretation.      Tl.ey    sliould    bc    awarc    ll.at    anotl.cr 
rcality  existed  "outsidc  of  reason  and  ilic  senscs."     Thc  pro- 
jecl  was  to  drive  inio  il.e  working  of  tlic  "occanic"  fccliiiß 
with  ll.c  byp..il,csis  ll.at  mysiicism  was  anotl.cr  dimcnsion  of 
liin..an  expcritnce.  not  an  isolatcd  ecrcniricity.     |)y  cxploring 
iIhs  sinic  of  c«.nscioiuiie$j.  sciencc  «ould  eiiricli  liscif,  discovcr 
inicrnal  laws  for  mystiial  activity,  at  ll.c  sa.nc  lime  lliat  it  niade 
availablc  to  oil.ers  non  .aiioi.al  ino<lcs  of  disciplinc.  discoursc 
and  ways  of  reacl.ing  il.c  truil,.    To  l.amllc  llic  difficulties  of 
all   iii(|uiries  into  niyitical   cxpcricncc.  Rolland  tallcd  f..r  a 

I9S0)      Fo,  ■  provota.Ue  ,i,„|y  „(  Iln|Un,|-,  ,clgl,«l,,  ,„J  ,|,c  ,„|c  „|  nccilioven 

••  Ron.«iii    «ullan.l.    Iht    lift    of    ru.tkanau.la  on.l   ll,t    t/nii-rr«!   r„.„  I 
C.Uuu.    I.J7Ü, ,  ......U.c.l  ..,   t.   F.   MaUol...  S...l,l..  ,.,.'  JIJ    3  7        lÄ         I 

I  >>rL.>a...U   „    ,  •t,.a„t.7,    Vni,.n,\  2   V«l,.,„c..    (|.,.i..    I-Jj!,)      "'    '"'   *^"  ''' 
U.C.1   l.un.    t..Kl.,l,   .0   UcuU   l.y    »'„„k    Ab...,i,.      '  '  '    '-^^J'    •""•• 


Sigmund  Freud  and  Romain  Rolland 


31 


radical  lypc  of  rescarcti,  a  tcchniquc  whicli  would  narrow  tlic 
gap  bctwcen  jubjcct  and  objeci.  Ife  «uggcsted  thai  thc 
obscrvcr  Idcntify  witli  and  expcricncc  tiie  Sensation  of  tlie 
objeci  obscrved:  "ll.c  l'loiinian  idcnliiy  of  tlic  scer  and 
lliing  Seen."  •' 

In  |)roposing  a  psyclioanalyiic  invesiigation  into  tli<; 
fcelings  wliicli  werc  tlic  rcligious  Sensation,  rathcr  ifian  thc 
idcaiional  Clements  clustcred  around  it.  Rolland  was  anlici- 
paiing  s.ibsejjucnt  revisions  of  classical  psyclioanalysls  as  thcory 
and  practicc.  IJy  luggcsiing  ilie  cnd  lo  tlic  Separation  bctwcen 
analyst  and  analysand.  Iic  forcsliadowed  sorne  of  thc  "  lhcrapic$ 
of  comi.iiiincnt  "  whicli  cl.allcnged  Frcudian  hegemony  dnring 
Freuds  lifctimc  and  alter  liis  death.  llis  desirc  »o  integrale 
Frcmls  work  on  ihe  unconscious  with  thc  discoveries  of  spon- 
laneous  rtligion  and  creative  an.  parallelcd  che  approach  of 
Jung  on  a  ccriain  Icvcl.  Rolland*  writings  also  prcfigurcd  the 
synthctic  studics  of  Norman  O.  Brown  and  Herbert  Marcusc." 

Rolland  liypottiesizcd  tliat  nun  institutional  spirituality 
might  bc  a  strong  way  of  mcdiaiing  bctwcen  man  as  he  was 
thcn  and  as  hc  cuuld  bccome.  One  could  not  alford  to  ignore 
Ihc  "ocranic"  seniiment  bccausc  it  might  be  the  source  of 
universal  cnergies  capable  of  uniting  mankind.  Thc  task  for 
ihc  fiiliiie  was  to  creaic  man,  lu  "  reawaken  Co<l  in  man."  " 

lle  dchncd  his  coiicept  of  rcligion  organically:  it  was 
"pcrpciual  birih."  cunsiani  siriving.  unreleniing  aspiration. 
If  oiic  displayed  a  couiagcous  attitudc  in  the  quest  for  trulh.  if 
one  graspcd  an  cnd  wliich  «npcrsedcd  individual  lifc.  and'  if 
one  werc  prcparcl  for  long  pcriwls  of  seif  wcrifice.  onc  could 
bc  considcrcd  icligious.  Kollandj  jtance  was  ihai  of  thc 
n.onisi;  he  assiimcd  ihai  men  and  socicties  werc  unitary 
ulu>\ci  with  no  indcpcndcni  pans.  The  divine  was  an  idca- 
f<.rcc  which  livcd  in  cvery  man.  Tliis  "  living-nniiy  "  connecied 

"  Iht  Uli  of  yiwkaiiiinila.  p.  312. 
.,.,  "H""""»  O.   llK.wii.  /.,.,«•,   /i„,iy,    (Krw    Volk    \>.m\.  ,,p.  «2    88  89    MI 
Sil.      II... c  .,c  rcl  .li«r...uc.  I.c.wc.„  RolUa.1-.  ,k..UIo  ,  ,'.m|  I.,;«.,-.     „1, 

•'  rh€  Life  Ol  Vivtkanamla^  p.  SI5. 


32 


David   Jainci  Fialicr 


mair$  soiil  lo  ihc  niiivirrsc  aiul  Rcncraicd  che  rclcasc  of  rcligioiis 
cncrKits.     Rolland  dcsciihcd  iliis  diviiic  tsscncc  ai  iiiyiliical; 
il  cxisicd  hcyoiul  ilic  caicgorics  of  limc.  spare,  and  ransaliiy 
Mc  nscd  waicr  imagcry  lo  übjcciiry   iu  cycliial  and  crcniivc 
(|nali(ics: 

I  bclongr  lo  a  land  of  rivcri. . .  Now  of  all  rivcrs  die  niosi 
sacml  i)  Chat  which  gnslics  ouc  cicrnally  fiom  die  dcpths  of 
che  soni  and  fiom  ics  rockj  and  glacicis.  Ilicicin  lies 
primeval  Force  and  Chat  b  what  I  call  religion.  Evcry- 
ching  helongs  Co  chis  river  of  che  Soul,  flowing  froni  che 
daik  nnphnnhed  reservoirj  of  our  licinß,  che  conscious. 
realized,  and  masccrcd  Heing  ...  Froni  che  sonrcc  to  che 
sca,  froni  die  sca  Co  che  sourcc,  cverydiing  consists  of  che 
sainc  Energy,  of  che  Heing  ivichouC  beginning  and  wichonc 
tnd.** 

Rolland  speculaccd  diac  che  "oceanic'*  fecling  miglit  bc  üic 
grntracnig  force.  che  deep  acruccurc.  of  all  religions  cxiscence. 
I  he  sclfj  feeling  of  oiieneu  widi  che  cnvironincnc.  che  cnd 
to  che  diicinccion  bcCwcen  aubjecl  and  objccc,  niighi  be  che 
.igency  of  che  fncure  nnificacion  of  mankind.  Furthcrinore  die 
piiinary  gracificacion  of  chosc  lylio  cxpericnced  che  "  occanic  " 
was  leal  and  oninipresenc. 

Ai  a  disscrninacor  of  Hindu  myscical  clioughc.  Rolland 
also  cried  Co  descroy  che  iceroiyped  rnisundcrsiandings  about 
IncJian  religiosicy.  Ile  poinceti  Co  India'j  rnovemeni  for  indc- 
iHTiidence  in  order  Co  illustracc  chac  inyscicisin  necd  not  be 
siKially  passive.  Candhi'i  |ifc  and  work  proved  tliat  Hindu 
spiucual  forccj  could  be  harnaued  InCo  piiq)oseful  social  and 
political  Channels.  Rolland  diiagrceJ  wich  die  corninonplace 
Chac  incroversion  ineant  Highc.  Chat  it  waj  an  cscape  from  life'a 
conlhctj.  I  he  irue  iiacure  of  myscical  accivicy.  as  pracciccd  by 
Rainakrishna,  and  cxpecially  Vivckanaiida.  was  acruggle.  More- 

'"''"^.rV.V"  '"y*^'^'*'"  J'J  »Ol  bavc  a  ••iporadic  characCer.- 
as  Williain  James  had  wriccen.  but  "a  daily.  mechodical 
qiialicy.  Eiiropeans  had  to  reallze  Chat  mystical  enliRlitcn. 
incnl  was  anodicr  form  of  lelf  discovery.    Mysiicism  led  Co  che 

••  Th§  Ul§  Ol  HämaktiihnM,  pp.  (V^). 


Sigmnnd  Freud  and  Romain  Rolland 


SS 


pnrificacion  of  idcas.  The  rcalin  of  che  pure  Idea  was  a  place 
where  cocigies  collected  in  cornprcssed  but  powerfui  form,  and 
where  chcy  wcre  in  nacui^l  liarmony  wich  che  universe: 

And  it  woiild  bc  stränge  if  menCal  joy  werc  a  sign  of  error. 
The  iniscrust  sliown  by  some  mascers  of  psychoanalysis  for 
che  free  naciiral  play  of  che  mind,  rejoicing  in  ics  own 
posscssion-che  scijjma  chey  imprint  upon  it  of  '*  narcissism  *• 
and  ••  auco  erocicisni  "-belrays  in  chem  unknowingly  a 
reverse  kind  of  rcligious  asceticism  and  renunciation.*' 

In  Coming  Co  bis  cricique  of  modern  psycliological  cheory. 
Hollands  aim  was  Co  show  how  leading  Cheoreticians  placed 
cercain    aspecu   of    religions    sensacion    inio   a    preconceived, 
naaow  cheorecical  framcwork**    Hc  thought  Chat  Riboi.  Janec. 
Rleuler.  and  Freud  had  crred  in  cxccnding  cheir  analysis  of 
•*  funccional  disorganlzaiion  "  to  thc  cntire  realm  of  the  mind. 
Frcud's  use  of  thc  concept  of  '*  rcgression  "  sprang  froin  bis 
own  nocion  of  a  hicrarchy  of  thc  minds  accivicies.    Sincc  hc 
accorded  science  and  che  cxcrcisc  of  rcason  thc  bighest  place, 
Freud  denigrated  religion  as  a  neurocic  rcsidue  of  an  earlier 
and  now  surpasscd  slagc  of  devclopmcnt.     Tbc  Icrm   "rc- 
gression" carricd  a  "  pejorative  sensc."    Rather  tiian  disparage 
unconscioiis  functions  of  thc  mind  with  regard  to  rcligioui 
tensation.  pure  speculation.  or  imaginative  activity.  Rolland 
aucrced  that  thcsc  activicics  could  bc  as  disinccresced  as  scicnci* 
fic  pursuics.     Incrovcrsion  workcd  by  going  back  into  onc's 
unconscioiis  in  order   Co  move  forward  inco  cnlighcenmenL 
More  significancly.  thcsc  carly.  if  not  primary.  Operations  of  thc 
mind  werc  "  t]io<sc  wbidi  disappcar  last-thcy  arc  tlic  foun- 
dations  of  Deing."  •• 

Dcspitc  Frcud'i  "  cnstomary  cncrgy  **  in  dcfcnding  cstab- 
blished  scicncific  laws.  Rolland  challengcd  hii  uncritical  faich 
in  cvoluiionary  tlicorics.  What  Rcj^nd  strcMcd  was  tfic 
Indestrucciblc  and  univcnal  aspecu  of  man'i  spiricual  naturc. 
not    thc    mind'i    niore    recent--and    less    firmly    andiorcd- 

••  Thi  l,if€  Ol  yivtkananäo,  pp.  SIS  SU. 
SS9sio^'*'   ^'''   **'   i'«maArj|/m«,   p.   5;     r/i#   Ul$   oj   rh^UnMiU,   pp.    $SI. 
••  Th0  Ult  ol  Fhekonanäa,  p.  SSd. 


31 


f^^t^-^^^^m^m^^^^^mmm^ 


David  j.inics  Fislicr 


•"    »     »»■■  i»»i 


a((|ui$uioiis.  llc  acccptcil  a  iiiodifial  Lamarckiaii  vicw  Chat 
llic  luiinan  conditioii  was  ihc  pioiluct  of  iiinaic  tliaratlcrisiici 
(licrcdiiy)  iiucrariiiig  wiili  acquired  cliaracicrisiics  (iiiairs 
ailapiaiion  lo  liis  cnvironincm) .  Trciid's  ciror  was  iliai  lic 
dowiißradcd  inairs  iiinaic  |xjsscs$ion$.«* 

Siiiiilarly.  Kolaiid  rcjccicd  VrtiuVs  iniplicit  scalc  of  valiics 
vis  4  vis  ilic  "sii|)rcmc  riinctioii  of  ilic  niiiid/'  Hc  cxcoriaicd 
ilic  Sharp  divisioiis  sei  iip  liciwccn  llie  rcality  and  plcasurc 
pniiciplcj.  thc  opposilioii  hcUvccii  aciion  in  ihc  cxicrnal. 
niatcrial  world  and  crcaiivc  rcprcscniation  in  a  fantasy  or 
drcam  world.  llc  advocaicd  ilic  inicKraiiun  of  gcncraiivc 
intuiiions  and  scientific  nieilicKi: 

Hut  if  itiis  gre,it  cffort  is  rcjeclcd  wich  ihc  disdainfnl 
grsiurc  of  ihc  cxcliisivc  ralionalisls,  and  parlicnlarly  of 
Ihc  psychopaihologisis  who  ilirow  discredil  on  "  the 
crUcrion  of  inlelledual  salisfaclion  "  or~as  ihc  greai  Freud 
says  wiih  ausicrc  scorn-on  "thc  plcasurc  pTincil»U;* 
which  is  in  his  cyes  ihai  of  ihc  *'  maladjusicd  "-ihosc  who 
rcjccl  ic  arc  far  l^ss  ihc  servanis  of  ihc  "real"  as  ihey 
imaginc  ihcmselvcs  to  hc,  ihan  of  a  proud  and  Puriian 
faiih  whosc  prejudiccs  liavc  bcconic  ihcir  second  naiurc.** 

Rolland  judgcd  ihat  Frcud's  conccplual  apparaius  so  deprc 
ciaial  intuiiivc  and  inslinciual  fuiiciions  of  ilic  niind  that  his 
Ihcory  lacked  proiiortion.  Conscqucnily.  psyclioanalysls  failcd 
to  coniprehcnd  liow  unconscious  fornis  of  cogniiion  wcrc 
Icgiiiinaic  in  thcir  tnvn  right,  and  how  Intuition  bicndcd  wiili 
iTitional  aciivity.  ••  Thc  irrcvcrani  ohscrvcr  is  lemplcd  lo  say 
•  Physician,  heal  thyselfl  "•  »• 

«ccausc  of  thcir  biases,  and  becausc  of  thc  limited,  how- 
cvcr.  innovative,  naiurc  of  thcir  conrpicsts,  Rolland  cpiesiioned 
why  psychoanalysis  appoinlcd  thcmscivcs  thc  "Standard 
bcarcrs  "  for  thc  rcality  principic.  Why  did  they  circumscribc 
thc  iHiundarics  and  funciions  of  thc  real?  And  ullimatcly  iverc 
scientisis  thc  best  judgcs  of  objeclivc  and  subjctilvc  rcalily?  »* 


•*lbiä.  pp.  331  337. 
••I6iii,  p.  3t5. 


••i6i.l.  p.  336. 
In.rovcMiu.,    m   ,   d.|cnan.c.     llc   eitel   .,>c.Ullic.|    wu.k,    In   lic   Hc^iZlZ 


Sigmund  Freud  and  Romain  Rolland 


35 


Once  thc  process  of  synihesiiing  sciencc  and  Intuition  bad 
bcgun,  man  would  takc  a  gigantic  sicp  toward  realiiing  his 
wliolc  naiurc  and  would  inove  in  thc  direction  of  an  amorous 
fiision  wiih  humanity.  '  Man  was  not  yct/'  Rolland  concluded. 
bnt  man  would  bccomc  man  throiigh  educalion,  meditaiion. 
and  abovc  all,  ilirough  renunciation  and  sacrificc." 

Rolland  mentioned  proiidly  to  Stefan  Zweig  that  hc  bad 
not  oiily  'provokcd-  scvcral  themes  in  Cii/i/izn/ion  and  li$ 
Diiconiculs,  bul  also  that  hc  was  thc  "  unnamed  friend  •*  whom 
Freud  had  hinted  at  in  thc  first  pages  when  hc  discussed  thc 
••oteanic  fcciing."  ||c  regrelted  that  Freuds  cssay  bad 
appearcd  beforc  his  thrce  volumc  work  on  Hindu  mysticism 
was  piiblished;  if  Freud  bad  only  waiicd  bc  would  liavc  found 
ainplc  *  expcrimenial  materials"  of  thc  "oceanic"  feeling 
lo  siibmit  to  analysis: 

And  bis  argumentation  would  bavc  bcen  more  preciic  and 
cflicacions  wiih  thesc  inatcrials.  Abovc  all  bc  would  fuvc 
Seen  that  contemporary  man  is  not  involvcd  alone,  tiial 
tbis  issuc  of  soul  proceeded  witbout  inteirupiion  for 
ceniuries.  and  ibal  it  bc  charged  witb  no  symptom  of 
weakncss.  Error  or  trutb.  wbat'i  thc  difference?  EVC17. 
Ihing  is.  perhaps,  an  Illusion.  Ilut  cvery  lived  illusion  is 
a  fact." 


Fulfilllng  bis  promise,  Rolland  icnt  Freud  bis  tbrec 
volumc  work  immediaicly  after  its  publicaiion  in  Paris  in 
1930.  In  bis  Iciter  of  ibanks  for  thc  gift,  wriitea  on  January 
19,  1930,  Freud  replied  playfully  10  sonic  of  Rollands  criticism 
of  psychoanalysis: 

Ifa.llilon.  In  cnlcmpoiari  ptydioloKy.  »nm«la.  etlucailon«!  ptyiholory.  aod 
•rlcnllfic  mcil.cHloloKy.  See  i«,.ciilvcly.  »cidlnand  Moicl.  bJ^Ji  iurNntro^ 
v<ruon  mjril.^Mr:  Huäc  f>iychologique  ä€  PaudoDiny,  tAnoi^agiie  <l  Z 
jur/^,iri  -„/ro  ra,  d#  myUUhm,  (Gtnev..  1918);  Chili«  ßaüüouin  "U 
fUficislon  cl  In  pl.^««..,(,.t,  <lc  iccul  en  p.rcl.ologic.-  Journal  dt  Ftycholo^U 

K.luuaHl    U    Hoy.       T,    OiKiplinc    de    ri«HMilon/'    Per     riyni  /  N-    33  3^' 

"  The  l.tlc  of  yivrkenantU,  p.  25i. 

»•  Ullcr.  RoIIjimI  iu  .Sufan  Zweig.  Occ.  30.  1929,  A.  R.  R. 


Sfi 


David  Janics  Fislicr 


Of  coiirsc  I  siHm  cliscovcrcil  tlic  scciioii  of  ilic  hook  most 
inicrcsiing  to  inc— llic  bcginiiint;.  in  wliicli  yoii  comc  to 
gii|)s  wiili  IIS  extreme  raiioiialisls.  'Ilial  yoii  call  nie 
'*  giaiul  "  licrc  I  havc  takcii  qiiiic  well;  I  caiiiiot  oiijcct  lo 
yoiir  iroiiy  wheii  i(  is  iiiixed  witli  so  nuicli  aniiability.** 

Freiicl's  old  reseiitinciit  wiili  respcci  lo  liis  break  witli 
Jung  resiirfaced  lierc.  llc  quickly  disinissed  liis  fornicr 
disci|)le*s  wriiings  as  pariially  inysiical— a  deiiigraiipn  ihal 
Kolland  would  surely  noi  appreciale.  ".  ..tlie  disiinciion 
hciween  •exiroverl*  and  *  inlroveil*  derives  Iroin  C.  G.  Jung, 
wlio  is  a  liit  üf  a  niystic  hiniscif  and  liasirt  belonged  to  us  (or 
ycars.  We  don'l  attacli  any  gieat  iniporlancc  to  tlic  distinctioii 
and  arc  well  awarc  tliat  peoplc  can  botli  at  tlic  samc  tiine, 
and  iisnally  arc."  ** 

Freud  coniesicd  Rollaiurs  allegation  tliat  vaiious  psycho- 
analytic  concepts  werc  inliercnlly  pejorative;  lic  argued  tliat 
tliey  werc  noiiiiorn^ativc  dcscriptivc  teniis.  Rolland  was 
siniply  wrong  in  iinpi(ting  a  valuc  judgrnent  to  Frcud's  con- 
cepUial  tenninology: 

...oiir  terms  such  as  regression,  narcissism,  pleasure* 
principlc  arc  of  a  purely  dcscriptivc  iiatiirc  and  don't 
carry  witliin  tliemselves  any  valuation.  Tbc  mental  pro- 
ccsses  inay  cliangc  dircction  or  coinbinc  forces  witli  eacli 
oilier;  (or  iiisuncc  cven  renecting  is  a  regressive  process 
witliout  losing  any  of  itj  dignity  or  iniportancc  in  being 
so.'* 

Witbout  clal>orating  üiem»  Freud  tben  ainrnied  tliat 
psychoanalysis  bad  priorities  and  a  bierarcliy  of  values.  Since 
psyclioanalysis  was  a  collateral  brancb  of  science»  not  a 
IKr//(inJc/i(iuung,  bc  conceived  of  its  basic  fiinction  as  a 
tlierapeutic  onc.  Tbc  thcrapcutic  goal  was  neitber  to  fiirnisli 
a  key  to  tbc  meaniiig  of  lifc  nor  to  cliart  a  course  for  niankind*s 
unification.  Its  objectives  werc  niorc  luinibic.  Above  all 
eise,   psyclioanalysis   was  designed   so   tliat   individuals  could 

u  UiirT,  Freud  lo  RolUnU.  Jin.  19.  1950,  Freud  UlUn,  p.  S92. 


Sigmund  Freud  and  Romain  Rolland 


87 


comprelicnd    ilieir   limitations   and   adjust   to  ibeir   external 
rcaliiy. 

Finally.  psyclioanalysis  also  bas  its  scale  of  values,  but  its 
solc  aim  is  lo  cnhancc  tlic  bannony  of  tbc  Ego  wliicb  is 
cxpccied  successfully  to  mediale  belween  tbc  claims  of 
tbc  instinctual  lifc  (tbc  ••  Id  •')  and  tbosc  of  tbc  external 
World,  tinis  betwcen  inner  and  outer  reality.»» 

Mysticism,  Freud  added.  migbt  provide  answeri  to  tbe 
various  meiapliysical  puzzles  of  liuinan  existcncc,  as  well  ai 
an  intuitive  incans  of  cxploring  maus  unconscious.  Hut  tbe 
Problem  wiib  knowledgc  gaiiied  by  irrational  means  ivas  tbat 
II  did  not  cnbaiicc.  and  migbt  even  weaken.  tbc  ego  wliicb  was 
rontinually  barraged  by  bosiilc  forces.  The  external  world 
rcmamed  a  tbreai,  and  man  was  obligcd  to  copc  with  in 
dcmands  regardless  of  tbc  profundity  of  bis  imights  into  tbe 
souls  ••  viciisuudes.  Frcud's  impasse  witb  Rolland  on  these 
issuc  appeared  total: 

We  secm  to  divergc  rather  far  in  thc  rolc  wc  assign  to 
intuiiion.  Your  mysticj  rely  on  it  to  leacb  tbem  how  to 
solvc  thc  riddlc  of  tbc  iiniversc;  wc  believc  thai  ii  cannoi 
reveal  lo  us  anything  but  primitive,  instinctual  Impulses 
and  atmudes-highly  valuablc  for  an  cmbryology  of  tbc 
soul  when  corrcctiy  inicrpreted.  but  wortblew  for  orlcn- 
tation  in  thc  alicn,  external  world.»« 

Freuds  criiiquc  of  Rolland's  mysticism.  of  bis  usc  of 
Intuition,  and  hi,  search  for  integrated  unities.  was  dcstined 
lü  becomc  thc  orthodox  Frcudian  rcactiontolaterpbilosopbical 
and  utopian  exprcssions  of  bclief.  According  to  thc  criiiquc 
inystics  (and  iclealists)  werc  immaturc,  retrograde,  and  es' 
capist.  Ibey  retreaicd  from  external  reality  out  of  fear  or 
becaiisc  of  an  inahility  lo  copc  with  thc  compromiscs  and 
subm.ssions  that  social  lifc  demanded.  As  such,  tbc  Solution, 
Uicy  posed  werc  fallacious  becausc  ihey  resicd  on  meiapliysical 

tt  Ibid. 

•M^iii..  pp.  592  395. 


.1» 


David    |«iiiics  Fislicr 


foiiiulations  and  diildliood  wislies.'*  Freud  concliidcd  liis 
Itiicr  Oll  a  cüiitiliainry  iioic.  Ilc  rcaliznl  tlial  liis  half  private, 
liair  |Hihlic:  roiMtovcrsy  wiili  Kolhiiid  was  dcadlockcci,  (hat 
iiciilicr  was  likcly  lo  yicid  (o  tlic  othcr's  position.  Siiicc  liis 
fccliiigs  für  tlic  Frciidi  wrilcr  v/crc  "  warm/*  lic  wantcd  to  ciul 
tlic  dchaic  Irss  dis|)iiiniioitsly.  For  llic  rcasoii,  lic  sliiftcd  his 
poiiii  of  vicw  in  tlic  Ictttr  from  tlic  personal  "  I  '•  to  thc  Icss 
pcisonal  ''wc"  foiin.  Ncvcrtlieicss,  lic  niadc  onc  last  point 
ahout  liis  own  cpisicinolo|;ical  oricntatioii  wliicli  contrastcd 
inipliriily  ivitli  UollaiKr$  dcsirc  for  a  grand  syntlicsis.  CAven 
llic  limited  iiatiirc  o(  man's  knowledgc  about  the  world  and 
liimscif,  Freud  allinned  (in  tlic  **  I  "  form)  that  tlicrc  wcrc 
rcftaiii  plicnoinciia  wliidi  remaiiicd  iiiexpli(ali|e  at  tlic  prcscnt 
lioiir.  Ilc  reliised  to  piophcsy  alioiit  tlic  fiiture.  lint,  in 
addition.  lic  liope<l  liis  idealisiic  fiieiid  woiild  not  inistake  liini 
for  a  coinpletc  scepiic: 

Slionid  oiir  pailis  cross  oncc  morc  in  lifc.  it  woiild  l>c 
pleasant  to'disiiiss  all  tliis.  From  a  distancc  a  coidial 
salntation  is  hcttcr  tlian  |)olemirs.  Just  onc  morc  iliing: 
I  am  not  an  out  and  out  sccpiic.  Of  onc  tliing  I  am  ahso- 
luicly  positive:  tlicrc  arc  ccrtain  tljings  wc  cannot  know 
now.** 

Tlic  last  paragrapli  of  iliis  remarkahly  Condensed  Ictlcr 
clarihes  tlie  firsl  paraj^rapli  of  tlic  s;inic  Ictlcr.  wliich  liad 
o|Krncd  coiispieuously  witli  a  jokc.  Tlic  jokc  itscif,  as  Freudian 
llicory  instructs  us,  poscd  Imtli  tlic  outline  of  tlic  probicm  and 
a  skctcli  of  its  Solution: 

I  ftliall  now  (ry  wiili  your  guidance  to  pcnciratc  into  llic 
Indian  jungic  from  wliicIi  until  now  an  uncertain  blendiiig 
of  llellcnic  love  of  pro|)ortion,  Jewisli  sobrieiy,  and 
pliilistinc  timidity  liavc  kepc  mc  away.  I  rcally  oiiglil  (o 
liavc  tackicd  it  carlicr«  for  tlic  plants  of  tliis  soil  sliouldn'l 

»•  The  Triuiu/i/i  «/  Ihc  Theraf^eulic.  |»|i.  232  '262;  tftud:  The  Mind  o/  Hu 
Moraliit,  |»p.  2HI  3M»;  l'^iil  lliii»cur.  lU  l.'/iilrr/ir/'lafioii.  Kttni  Sur  fteuä 
(TaiU.  IW»S),  I».  52S;  Miilicl  Daiiscrcau.  trcuä  el  VaOUitme  (raiii.  I07II. 
n>.    121  122.  ' 

••UllCf.  Ficua  lo  KollaiiJ.  Jai,.  lU,  |930.  ffeud  leiten,  |i.  SÜJ. 


Signiiiiid  Freud  and  Romain  Rolland 


39 


bc  alien  to  mc;    I  l.avc  diig  to  ccrialn  depihs  for  (heir 
roots.** 

The  jokc  reveals  I'rcuds  feclings  of  seif Jenigration  as 
well  as  the  ilefcnsivc  reassertion  of  his  individuality  As  a 
scientist  a  Jew  who  had  mastcred  pagan  culturcs,  and  a 
cultivaied  Central  Fiiropcan  intclleclual  who  paiscd  liidfr: 
inciits  Ol.  artisiic  creation.  Freud  was  uniiuimidated  by  thc 
allen  realm  of  Indian  religiosity.  (Hcsidcj  associating  it 
with  the  Id.  pcrhaps  he  idcntificd  thc  "Indian  iungic  "  with 
passivity  and  feinininjty.) 

riius.  thc  hiuiior  plays  a  defensive  rolc.    Al  this  liincturc 

in  thc  Freud  Rolland  relationship.  temperament.  intclleclual 

inclmaiion,   artisiic   appreciaiion.    historical   role,    and    world 

View    both    ronverged    and    clashcd.      Freud's    feclings    wcrc 

un.nistakenly  divided:    he  feit  a   bicnd  of  attiaction  and  re- 

fHilsion   reipcct  and  cnvy,  and.  abovc  all.  thc  stränge  Sensation 

tliat    Rolland   and    he    wcrc    utterly   difTcrent.      Rather   than 

spotl  the  fr.endship  with  a  serious  polemic.  and  a  permanent 

breach    Freud  calied  a   trucc.     Thc  conilict  had  cntcred  an 

insoluble  stagc.  and  Freud  managed  it  by  Ictting  it  drop.  A$  hc 

aptly  said:    ••  Hut  it  isnt  easy  to  pas,  beyond  thc  limtts  of  onc«, 

naiurc        Clearly.  hc  was   not  going  to   transcend   his  back- 

ground.  age.  personality.  or  thcoretical  bcnt.     Rolland  could 

accomphsh  this  no  morc  than  he.     Howcvcr.  both  men',  final 

Views  on  thc  -occanic"  had  yet  to  bc  expressed,  and  Freud, 

mixed  feel.ngs  for  Rolland  would  rcemergc  in  another  contcxt 
in  1996. 


Rolland  incnjioncd  to  Cliaric,  Baudouin  tliat  hu  work 
on  Imlian  mysiiciim  Lad  prccipi.a.cd  a  conirovcny  will.  Freud. 
I  e  cxplaincd  il.ai  il.c  old  n.aiier  had  rejcctcd  ihe  catrgoric, 
of  .n.rovcrsion"  and  "  cxirovcnion."  as,ociaü„g  ihcm  wilh 
Jung,  mysiical  inclinaiions.  "I  havc  cxchangcd  »evcral 
Ici.cr,  wnh  rrcud  concerning  my  work.  ||e  dcfculcd  l,i,„,cH 
about  co.ulc.u.u.g  aiiy  onc  of  il.e  iwo  forccj  of  .hc  mlnd- 
rcn.,.,.c.al.  tciurifngal;  and  hc  flung  hack  (hc  error  lo  lunß  " 
I  hüMj-h  ihcrc  IS  no  cvidcncc  ihai  Rolland  kncw  of  .hc  Freud/ 
Jung  s|,lu  uf  1913.  hc  rccopicd  Freud',  »cn.cncc  in  Gcrma,, 


40 


David  Jaincs  Fislicr 


("  will)  is  a  liit  of  a  iiiystic  liiinsrif  and  liasn't  hclongecl  lo  iis 
for  ytais").  and  lic  addcd  |)arcntheiically:  "  that  sinclls  of 
cxconuniinicntion."  *' 

Freud  seilt  Kolland  a  copy  of  ilie  5ccoiul  tdition  (1931) 
of  Civiliiation  and  Hs  Discontcnls  willi  an  aiiitising  dcdicatioii 
inscribcd  on  tlic  firsi  pagc:  "riic  'I'crrcsdial  Aniinal  lo  liis 
(»rcral  occanic  Fricn<l/'  (Seinem  grossen,  oiranis(  licn  rrciind. 
das  I^ndticr»  18.9.1931)  I  liis  confirincd  tliat  Uollaiid  liad 
becn  llic  **  unconscioiis  Inspiration  "  of  ihc  (irst  pages  of  Freuds 
hock.  The  dedication  froiii  Freud  iinpressed  liiiii  as  being 
•*  ironic  and  af[cctionaic."" 

FrciuFs  dedication  is  criicial  becaiisetlietenesirial  aniinal/ 
oceanic  dicliotoiiiy  links  tlic  iniellcctnal  and  personal  relation- 
sliips  of  Freud  and  Rolland.  In  tlieir  coiilliit  ovcr  religioiis 
Sensation,  tlie  dispiitaius  liad  not  inet  oii  tlie  saine  fooiing. 
Conse(|iiently,  no  decision  could  bc  leaclitd.  Yei,  iherc  bad 
lieeii  djalogiic  and  an  alfenivc  bond  was  esiablisbed  beiween 
tlic  two.  Rolland  Wiis  evciydiing  tliat  Freud  was  not;  thus 
Ficiid,  tlic  scicntiTic  p^yehologist,  identified  liiniself  widi  tlic 
inaicrial  world,  witli  tlic  contictc,  wilh  intcllectiial  lifc  wliicli 
bad  brokcn  tlirougli  to  llic  prc<onscious  or  conscious  stagc. 
For  Freud,  Rolland  swani  in  tlie  bonndless  waters  of  clerniiy 
and  universal  love-liis  inind  licld  back  at  llic  stagc  of  tlic 
unconscioiis.  Freud's  fratcrnal  (eelings  wcrcinixed  wilbfeelings 
of  iiifatuaiion  for  tlic  Frcncli  writcr.  Rolland  was  a  gcntile. 
a  practising  niystic,  a  niusic  lovcr,  a  pliilosopliical  Idealist«  and 
a  biimaniuirian  writcr  wlio  upliftcd  and  consoied  niankind. 
It  is  (piitc  |>ossiblc  üiat  Freud  saw  in  Rolland  various  faccis  of 
bis  own  Personality,  Clements  tliat  lic  liad  long  supprcssed, 
such  as  bis  susceptibiliiy  to  inystical  ideas,  bis  own  creativc 
aspirau'ons,  and  bis  dcsirc  to  servc  mankind. 

Usiiig  Frcud'i  scvcny Tifth  birtbday  as  an  occasion,  Rolland 
pursucd  tlic  tlicmc  of  rcconciliation  in  tlic  personal  tone  and 

•  •toller.  l^olUnJ  lo  Ctiailct  Daiidoln.  Maich  IS,  1950,  A.  R.  R.  In  • 
klier  lo  llaiMloiiin  dalctl  Apill  Ifl.  |ir^«J.  RolUnd  ilaicil  lh«l  oiotl  **  raaiieii 
o(  |ialliulogical  |»ijrcliol<>)(f  "  wcic  txiicr  tullctl  lo  Ix:  oUicrvcd  ai  cajc  hhloric« 
Ihaii  lo  tenrc  M  -  wtxlel  ohicnrcii ".  TlieU  incai>acliy  lo  graip  rclii;loiii 
•ciiiailont  icvcalcd  •  IcMt  of  **  C4ifiiact  wich  llvlng.  |»||,  ind  liealilif  realiiy." 
A.  Iv.  H. 

•  •  Roniilii  Ruiljnil,  Joutnal  Inllmt,  No».,  1950  Dcc  1911.  p.  Jfl,  \,  R.  R. 


Sigmund  Freud  and  Romain  Holland 


41 


llic  content  of  liis  Icctcr.     Ile  CcU  a  moral  bond  witli  Freud 
bccause  of  die  piyclioanalyit**  fcarleii  and  disintcrcjted  icarcli 
(or  inilji.  Whal  wai "  piychologically  curiouj  "  aboiit  Rolland« 
o»vn  niind  was  tlie  balanciug  of  three  facctj  of  liis  pcrsonality: 
(ecling.  knowing.  and  dcsiring.     In  him,  fcciing  coiTcn>oiidcd 
to  tlie  "occanic."  knowing  corrcspondcd  to  doubt    (on   tlic 
iiiodcl  of  Montaigne) .  and  deiiring  correjpondcd  to  "  noihing- 
lo  total,  boiiiidicss  cffaccincnt."    Tliui.  Freuds  juxtapoiitioii 
of  bis  owncarth  bound  naiurc  and  Rolland'»  "occanic"  im- 
piilsci,   tlic  concrete  and  tlic  abstracl,  the  matcrial  and  llie 
mciaphyjiral.  ivcre  forccd  and  unnccessarily  anUgonistic  Op- 
position».   To  sce  without  ilhisions  was  not  Incompatible  witli 
fcciing  a  conncction   witli  past  and  prcscnt  bunianity.     IIc 
rcitcrated  ili.it  tlic  "occanic"  Sensation  was  an  innate  (caturc 
of  tlie  luinian  pcrsonality,  tbat  it  existcd  objcctivcly  in  nica 
of  all  hisiorical  pcriods  and  clasics  rcgardicss  of  cilinological 
or  gcopolitical  boundarics.  Sincc  hc  had  publisbcd  liis  voluincs 
on   Indian    iiiysticism.   cchocs  bad   rcaclicd  bim    froin   inany 
sourccs,  incbiding  Austrian  oncs,  wbicb  corroborated  the  widc- 
scale  prcjcnce   of   sucJi   "  Inviiiblc   forces."     The   form   and 
substancc  of  tliis  "  vital  featurc"  of  maii's  cxlslcnce  remained 
to  bc  sludied;    the  contoiirs  of  the  "  truth  "  of  the  "  occanic  " 
remained  a  task  for  men  of  tlie  future  to  detcrniine,    Arguing 
ftom  a  Jarncsian  pragmatic  point  of  view.  he  opposed  die 
analysis  of  intuitive  »ensations  with  preconceivcd  caiegorics. 
IMiilojophcrs  and  activists  would  bc  foolish   to  ncgicct  the 
impalpable  but  highly  explosive  naiure  of  "  oceanic  "  forces. 
Rolland  proclalmcd  that  lie  livcd  by  the  rnotto  "  bc  wliai  you 
musl  bc  "/"  do  whal  you  must  do  "  not  limply  out  of  infantile 
rcbcilion  or  dclight  in  his  own  uniqueness.  but  rather  as  a 
nccessary  point  of  departure  in  his  quest  for  human  abnndance 
and  screnity.** 

Freud,   dccply   moved   by  Rolland'i   intimatc   tone   and 
Struck  by  ihc  tcnacity  of  his  defense  of  Intuitive  forces.  rcplicd: 

You  answcrcd  my  picasantry  wilh  the  most  precious  infor- 
niatlon  about  your  own  pcrson.  My  profound  thanks  for 
it 


••  Leiur,  Roll.nd  lo  fieud,  M«;  S,  I9JI.  A.  R.  R. 


42 


David  James  Fislicr 


A|)|.roa.  hm,;  lifc'$  incvical.lc  ciul.  rcmimic«!  of  jt  |,y  vci 
aiio.licr  o|>craiioii  ami  aivaic  ihat  I  am  imlikcly  tu  $cc  you 
a«aiii.  I  may  confcss  lo  yo.i  ihal  I  l.avc  raicly  cxpcricnml 
«liai  niysicrioi.,  auraclüm  of  ouc  luiman  for  aiio.l.cr  as 
vivKily  ai  I  havc  will.  y«u;  it  is  «.mcl.«»v  hound  ,.„ 
pcihai»!.  Willi  ilic  aivarcncji  of  oiir  Lciiig  jo  diirercm.  ' 
Farcivclll  •• 

Distaiicc.  agc  and  illncis  would  prcvcni  a  coidial  rcso- 

lUion  or  ilicir  dcl.a.c  aiul  a  frcsh  rciioialion  of  ihcir  friciuljl.i,, 

M»»t  crucially.  Fred  a.lmiuc.l   l.i,  own  .imhivalcncc  al.om' 

Holland:    l.ij  fccling  of   "  myUeriou,  altractioii  "  aiid   yct  of 

cur  bdii«  M  dijfcrciu."      Ihc  iinusi.al   forte  of  ihc  IcUcr 

dcrivcd  panially  froni  Freds  sci.se  of  ß„ilt  ahout  Ins  niixcd 

ccl,,,,;,  .„ward  l.is  fricml.     ll.c  doul.lc  fccling  wa,  accenu.aicd 

l.y  llic  cvcr  presciu  consciousncss  of  hij  impcmling  dcaili 

Rolland  rcacicd  Jo  Freud',  May;  im  kuer  in  an  ex- 
rhangc  wul.  Zwcfg  in  carly  J„ne  of  tl.at  ycar.  "  Exchange  of 
iniercsnng  leller,  vhl.  Professor  Freud.  Tl.c  läse  received 
rom  liim  liad  an  alfecilonaic  accent  wliltli  louchcd  mc  It 
hinied  at  ll.c  feeling  il.at  dealli  wa,  near."  Ifc  claimcd  (hat 
Freud  ,  (Kistulaiion  of  Eros  and  tl.c  dealh  instinct  narallcled 

hisownimui(ion,concerni..gthi,meta,,,ycholoßlcalo,,nosilion: 
I  he  enlargemenl  of  his  theory  (lo  thi,  douhlc  dement,  life 
and  deatli)  corres|>onds  curiously  lo  ihe  seif  confesjion  that  I 
inadc  lo  hmi."M  Ro||n„d  might  l.ave  addcd  (hat  Freud  Lad 
compresscd  these  cwin  concepi,  inio  powcrfui  emotion,  when 
expressing  his  sccrct  feclings  about  Rolland. 


A  contemporary  historiaii  has  aigucd  ihat  (i.c  oriijins 
of  psychoanalysi,  wcrc  ;  co«nter,H.li.ical.- "  Afler  summa- 
niMig  Ircud,  posilions  in  ihc  dchaic  on  ihc  "  oceanic  "  ihis 
con.epiual  frame  can   he  hroadcned  hy  ad.li„g  ,|,.n  ,|,*e  con- 


Sigmund  Freud  and  Romain  Rolland 


49 


scf|ucnccs  of  psychoanalytic  tlicory  wcrc  counicrrcligious« 
countcrmysiical,  and  inoic  or  less  iiispiciout  of  all  iniuiiivc 
forms  of  rognilion.  Dcspitc  hii  scnsitivity  lo  litcniry.  plastic, 
nnd  rcprcscncaiional  forins  of  arlislic  cxprcssion,  Freud  was 
disUirbed  by  and  distrusiful  of  artistic  creations  wliich  had 
ilicir  origin  in  ilic  realm  of  llic  Id.  Wliilc  his  llieory  neutra- 
lizcd  politics  by  posiiing  llic  primacy  of  insiincts  and  sexualiiy. 
il  aiiacked  religion  and  irralional  docirtnes  as  culiurally 
repressive.  Mysiics  and  belicvcrs  acicd  immaiurely  l>ecausc 
ihcy  rcsolved  falsciy  thc  perennial  icnsions  bciwecn  individuals 
and  ibeir  social  and  culiuml  milicus.  A  greal  op|H)neni  of 
fully  iniegiatcd  world  vicws.  Freud  saw  llic  world  ai  pcr- 
manenily  aiomiied;  onc  could  nol  wisli  away  ilic  myriad 
levels  of  ilie  individualf  csirangement  in  locieiy.  Man  \^% 
by  dcfiniiion  sick,  divided,  and  incapable  of  cscaping  from  tbc 
submissions  required  for  bis  daily  cxisiencc.  Tbosc  wbo 
posiulaied  synibcses  or  liberation  on  an  abstracl  plane  werc 
misleading  mcn.  looiliing  ibcm  wiih  promiscs  of  individual 
iransfonnailon,  bappiness,  and  perfcciion  wben  only  infor- 
malion  and  coinpromise  werc  rcally  possibic.  From  ibc 
Frcudian  viewpoint,  llic  best  ttial  could  bc  cxpccted  was  ibc 
thcrapenlic  goal:  accommodaiion  to  thc  externa!  world  ai  it 
was,  amelioraiion  of  man*s  pinfui  internal  conllicis»  and 
foriificaiion  of  thc  cgo  against  internal  and  cxtcmal  aisaulu 
on  it." 

On  thc  olber  band,  Rolland's  poini  of  refercncc  wai 
idealisiic,  proplieiic,  and  syntbctic.  iiis  view  of  human 
nature  presupposed  that  man  could  bc  radically  transformcd. 
Rolland  rejecied  Frcud's  detcrminism  as  pessimisiic  and  rc- 
duciivc,  and  he  belicvcd  ihat  man  was  neither  good  nor  cvil, 
sick  nor  bcalihy,  but  ratber  capablc  of  achieving  a  Symphonie 
balancc  of  his  mental  and  organic  processes.  To  fulfill  this 
equilibrium  and  to  mainiain  it  was  man's  task.  Rolland  was 
far  more  preoccupied  wiili  character  building  and  thc  releasc 
of  man's  laicnt  eihical  capaciiies  than  %vas  Freud.  Thoiigh  ihc 
Frciith   wrilcr  was  aware  of  thc  danger  wliich  thc  excessivc 

••riiill|»  KUrt.  Thi  TfiumLh  of  Ihg  T/icra/^rulu,  pp.  W  107;    Philip  RIcff 
Fuud:    the  htind  o/  Iht  Mo,alut  (New  Yoik.  1061).  pp.  361892;   Kiidi  fiomm* 
l'tjfchoanalym  and  Hiligion,   (New  llavcn,  1972).  pp.   I  20. 


i« 


» 


44 


David  Jamci  Fislicr 


consirainis  of  conscicnce  coiihl  Icad  lo,  Freud  pcrceivcd  ihc 
liazards  of  giiilc  and  rcprcssiuii  far  inorc  inciaivcly  tliaii  did 
Holland.  In  o|iposi(ion  lo  Frcud's  dualisin,  Rolland  contcsicd 
ilic  ificviialilc  antagonisins  hctwccn  niaicrial  rcality  and  ilic 
"occanic"  rcality,  tlic  plcasnrc  principlc  and  rcaliiy  principle, 
induciion  and  dcduction,  tlic  litc  and  dcatli  instincu.  To  lie 
wliolc  for  liim  incant  altaining  a  psycliological  halancc;  it  did 
noi  nican  l>ccoining  cgosynionic.  TIic  cgo  was  pari  of  ilic 
halancc,  bnt  liad  to  cocxist  with,  not  ward  o(f  or  rcplacc,  thc 
unconscions  and  tlie  anpcrcgo. 

Wliat  Rolland  cxpcctcd  froin  Freud,  but  did  not  rcccivc, 
was  «in  cnipircal  psyclioanalyiic  cxploration  of  the  varioiis 
dinicnsions  of  tlic  "occanic"  Sensation.'*  Inlincnced  by  tlic 
contribütions  of  Hcrgson,  Ix  Roy,  and  James,  Rolland  de- 
fended  religious  Sensation  as  a  practicing  niystic  Yet  bc  also 
assnnied  tliat  rcligion  coiild  bc  anti  iiisiitutional,  nondeistic, 
and  even  actively  subversive  of  cstablislied  attitudes  and  norms. 
Mysticism  for  Rollapd  was  not  a  pathologicai  siatc.  Ilis 
concept  of  rcligion  did  not  corrcs|>ond  lo  citiicr  of  Freud's  two 
prototypes:  tbc  Catbolic  Cluircli  and  tbc  Jewisb  rcligion. 
Altbougb  bc  was  unclear  al>out  die  ultimatc  trulb  and  ligniri- 
cance  of  tbc  "  occanic,"  bc  ly^s  ccrtain  tliat  tbc  Sensation  could 
bc  feit  witbout  imparing  tbc  excrcisc  of  onc*s  criticaj  facultics. 
Rolland's  belief  in  tbc  "occanic"  was  non  autboritarian:  il 
was  a  faiili  buili  on  insigbu  wbicb  grew  out  of  expcrience,  and 
it  was  bistorically  verinablc.** 

Just  as  bc  opposed  FVciid'iovcrvalüationofreason»  Rolland 
op|>osed  tbc  mctbodologioil  foundations  and  somc  of  tbc  major 
conclusions  of  Frcudian  ihcory.  In  tbc  tarne  manncr  tliat  bebad 
cballcnged  tbc  ortbo<lox  tlicory  and  practicc  of  Marxisin« 
Leninism  in  tJic  IDlfO«  for  its  prcscriptive  laws  and  rigidity,** 

••  For  ■  cunicropotarf  compatlion  of  ihe  •ImHatlllc«  l>€lwctn  pifclio- 
•nalpU  tnJ  uipilcUiu.  cuntuli  ncil>crt  riiifaicllc,  "Tlic  Ego  aiul  Mpik 
Scincsjiici«,'*  In  läenlily  anj  AnMiety:  Sutvifol  of  Ihe  Ferton  in  Matt  SociUy, 
ed.,  MauiUc  K.  Siciii.  Aiiliur  J.  Viülih,  David  M.  White.  (New  Yoik.  1900). 
pp.  5V<^  583. 

••  Tht  Tflumph  of  Ihi  TherafHutU,  pp.  179.  179  n.  50;  Freud:  The  MInä 
of  Ihe  Muralitl,  pp.  291  2*n. 

•»  lor   •    coinplclc   disciiuion    of   llolland'i   rcacilcHi    lo    Marxiuo    and    llic 

Riiiilaii     KcnroliiUon     In     ilic     eaiiy     im.'Oi.    lec     David    J^met     Hilici,    - 1  !ic 

Kulljiul  fiaiüuMc  Dcbaic,  **  Survty,  Spilng  Summer,  l!)74.  Vol.  20.  N«  2/S.  pp. 
121  159.  •  /  •  If. 


Si(,niiiind  Freud  and  Romain  Rolland 


45 


Uc  combaited  cfTorts  to  systcmatiic  Freud's  findingi  in  tbc 
social  and  ciiltural  realm.  IIc  tbougbt  tbat  mucb  of  Frcudian 
tcrminology  was  cmotionally  cbarged,  and  tbat  Frcudian 
concepis  wcic  offen  connocativc  as  well  as  denotative.  Ai  a 
contcmporary  cri|ic  wlio  was  not  a  membcr  of  tbc  inter- 
national  psycboanalytic  movement.  Rolland  rccogniicd  a 
religious  componcnt  in  tbc  institutionalization  of  Frcudian 
pjycboanalysis.  Perbaps  bccausc  of  bis  own  Catbolic  cbild- 
liood.  bc  saw  Freud's  discoveries  dcveloping  into  a  ncw 
cliurcli  wbicb  included  masters  and  disciples,  dogma.  con- 
fcssions  and  sccrcts.  strict  rcquiremcnts  for  mcmbcrsbip,  and 
excoinmunications  of  dissident  membcrs. 

On  one  Icvel.  Rolland's  reaction  to  Frcudianism  rcficctcd 
tbc  eclcctic.  bcrctical,  and  non  analytic  aspccu  of  bis  own 
iniclligcnce.  On  anotbcr  level,  it  mirrored  tbc  slowncss  and 
dimciiltics  wiib  wbich  Freud's  idcas  wcrc  bcing  acccpied  in 
France,  even  by  somconc  wlio  was  acquainted  with  seminal 
tcxts  as  early  as  1909."  One  cannot  cxplain  Rolland's  cavalier 
dismissal  of  tlie  ocdipal  configuration  and  of  infantile  scxu- 
aliiy  as  mercly  a  rcsiduc  of  tbc  ninctcentb  ccntury's  roman- 
ticiiation  of  cbildren  and  tbc  family.  It  is  quitc  |>os8iblc  tbat 
Rolland  was  disturbed  pcrsonally  by  Frcudian  tbcory.  Ilis 
resistancc  to  somc  of  tbc  icvolutionai7  implications  of  psydio- 
analysis  parallcled  Freud's  block  to  mysticism  and  music. 

It  is  dillicult  to  asccrtain  how  well  Freud  undcrstood 
Rolland  tbc  man  or  bis  idcas.  Tbc  converse  is  equally  difficult 
to  judgc.  Morc  likcly  tban  not,  there  was  partial  compre- 
bension  on  boib  sides.  Rolland  liked  and  rcspcctcd  Freud  as  a 
pcrson.  Wbat  bc  found  compelling  about  Freud  was  bij 
Piercing  inrclligcnce,  bis  sioicism.  bis  tireicss  aciivity.  bis 
vigorous  allegiancc  to  science  and,  as  sbown  by  their  letters, 
bis  candor  about  tbc  nearness  of  dcatb.  Freud  bad  been 
defensive,  intolerant,  and  disputatious  with  Rolland;  yet  bc 
bad  also  revealcd  bis  vulnerability.  and  warmtb,  and  an  intensc 
aifcciion  for  bis  French  fricnd.     Bccause  bc  could  not  dis- 

"Eülil.  IkinardKlix.  rUt  ötbuin  de  la  |>i|chanalr»€  en  Fran«- 
Eurot>e  N-  5S9.  Marcl.  1974.  pp.  69  87;  ColeUc  Co.Vul>cU.  freuäel  iZlin 
noUand.  /..IUI  jur  /a  dicouvefU  de  la  pemU  pryihoünaiyiique  öor  quelquei 
rmi/aini  fianfan.  kjcuUy  of  Mcdkliic.  raili.  1966    op.  dl.  ^ 


•  . 


4 


4ri 


David  Jainci  Fijlicr 


liiiKuisli  bciwccn  Uollaiul  die  man  and  Uollaml'i  idcas  Freud'i 
f«tliiiK$  tüwar.l  hiin  tvcic  alwayi  double  cdßtd,  (ull  of  rcvcrwij 
Ic  IS  ihis  aml.ivalciirc.  ilic  oscillaiioii  »„iwcen  aiiratilon  and 
avcisKHi.  iliai  creaics  llic  inystcrioiis  and  dynaniic  clcnimi  in 
ilicir  tclaiionship  and  dcliaics. 

•    •   •   •   • 

Aficr   I<).10  ilic   iiiipai  t  of  llic  woil.I  dcprcsjion  and  liic 
fcaifui  s|>rca<ling  of  iniernational  fascisiii  forccd  Kolland  iniu 
an   aKonuuig   rcasjcjimcnt   of   his   posiiioni   vis  i  vis  conicni- 
poraiy  affairs.     As   lic   iKcainc   inorc   cngagcd   in   social   and 
|M)liinal    slrnnKlcs    in    Furopc,    liis   connniinicnis    jo    Hindu 
niysiicisni  and  Gandhian  non  violtncc  wancd.     In  the  spriuR 
and  snnuncr  of  VXM,  Rolland  collahoraJcd  witli  il.c  Conunun 
ist    inicliccinal.    Henri    llaibussc,    lo   crealc    a    nniied    fmni 
inoven.enc  on  ilic  l.efi.    Wlial  was  lo  lic  known  as  tlic  Ainsicr- 
dain  llcycl  Movenicni  was  inauguiatcd  a(  a  fargc  inccrnaiional 
congrcss  in  August.  I9S2.    To  pnblicizc  ihc  congrcsi.  Uailiussc 
appealcd  lo  ilie  Kuropcan  incdical  profcssion  botli  to  atlcnd 
and  $up|>ori  ilie  A">sicrdam  niccting,     Erncsi  Jones  rciwns 
tbat    Ireud   signed    ll.e   appeal."      J  luis,    Kollands   poliiical 
aciiviiy  indirci  ily  louclicd  ins  relationsliip  to  Freud 

Fron.  IÜ3;i  to  Vm,  Rolland  cincrgcd  as  onc  of  tl.e  syni- 
bohc  bcads  of  ibe  international  anii  fascist  movement  VViiliin 
tbc  framcwork  of  anii  fas<:ist  resisiance.  Iie  critically  endorscd 
Populär  Front  governmenis.  and  lic  was  pariicularly  enibusias. 
nc  about  tlie  Republica.i  campaign  in  Spain.  Fascism  jolud 
bini  out  of  bis  Immersion  in  inyticism  and  rcligious  qucsiioiis 
Resistance  to  fascism  »vas  tlie  crucial  factor  wliicti  mediuied 
bctwcen  Ins  support  of  Gandliian  melliods  and  Soviel 
Connnunism."  It  wuuld  play  a  role  in  bis  last  contacts  witb 
Freud. 


lotn*' *"/.""'. '"""^  SIpnHn.l  K.cu.l:    Life  in.l  Woik.    -H,«  l.a.i   |.|,„c   |<||<i. 
I9J9       (l..mdo„.   1957).   V..I     |||.  ,,    ,hz.     C:...!»...!»  Ö.o.,;!..     Ü  .«  ;  i"     .1.   nl 

Wla.1  ...1,  M„ic|    |„,  u  gut.rt  om  U  .^.^U„i,.„   (Alcr...,,  I'JM),  ,.,.   U|  ,;. 


Sigmund  Freud  and  Komain  Kolland 


47 


Tliougb    burdened    by    illiiess    and    agc,    taxcd    by    the 
liciglitencd  levcl  of  anti  Jcwisb  sentiment  in  Vienna.  and  faced 
wiili  tlie  projpect  of  cmigraiion.  Freud  was  awarc  of  Kolland's 
poliiical  ciigagemcnt.     VVbcn  askcd  by  Victor  Wittkowski,  a 
German  wriier.  to  iielp  ccicbratc  Rolland»  scvcntieili  biribdäy. 
Freud  replied  iliat  bc  wonld  not  be  able  to  coniribute  a  iicw 
piccc  of  writing  for  bis  "  rcvercd  Fricnd  Romain  Kolland  '.• 
because  bis  crtativc  cnergies  wcrc  exbausled.     Hc  alluded  lo 
Pari  I  of  ibe  tben  unpublisbed  Moses  and  Monotiteism  wbich 
lie  iboiiglit  migbt  "  bavc  been  of  special  intcrest  to  K.  R.,  but 
Jl  sulfered   fron»  onc  defcci  wliicli  prcvcntcd  ii  from  bcing 
publisbcd    sincc    iiiy    ability    lo    pro«lucc    has    dried    up? " 
Nonetlieless,    Freud    was    irrllated    by    Wittkowskis    (pialifi- 
catlon    tliat    poliiical   lopics   bc   exciudcd   from   all    birtliday 
contribiitions.     In  the  bigbly  pollticized  ambicnce  of  Europc 
and  espccially  In  tlie  ligbt  of  Rolland'i  public  stanccs.  such  a 
rcqucst  was  dcbilitatlng:  ' 

If  thcrc  is  somcthing  tbal  inakcs  this  rcfusal  easicr  for  mc. 
it  is  tbat  *•  all  referenccs  to  polltici "  have  to  bc  cxciuded. 
Under  thIs  paralyzing  restriction-not  bcing  allowcd  to 
follow  niy  urgc  to  pralse  hIs  couragc  of  conviction.  his  love 
of  truih.  and  bis  tolerancc-l  couldn't  do  anylbing,  evcn 
If  I  were  in  my  primc. 

Insiead  of  olfering  a  contributjon,  Freud  would  pcrsonaljic  his 
birthday  grecling  lo  Rolland:  "  On  January  29  I  «hall  teil 
hiin  in  a  few  lines  tbat  I  am  thinking  of  hlin  with  alfection."  •• 
Wittkowski  farcd  no  better  wlih  Rolland  tban  he  bad  wllh 
Freud  in  ibis  period.  Rolland  was  irked  by  Wittkowskis 
Insensitiviiy  lo  bis  anti  fascist  commitmcnts.  Tbc  Ccrman 
writcr  erred  in  trylng  to  comparimcntalizc  Rollands  multi- 
facctcd  existente,  and  in  dcpollticiiing  his  social  and  Inicllcctual 
activities: 

I  clo  not . . .  separate  my  arllnlc  work  from  my  social 
acilviiy...Onc  day  yoii  will  nmlcrsland  tiiat  itic  locial 
siriij{Klc  in  wliicIi  I  am  pariicipating  is  also  ihc  grcaicsl 
cniiihai  for  llie  defense  of  Ciiliiirc  wliich  is  llircatcned  by 

•»  Ullcr.  Freud  lo  Victor  Wliikowikl.  Jan.  ö.  |9M.  fnud  trllrri,  p.  «S. 


* 


4ft 


David  Jaincs  Flslicr 


llic  iiuernaiional  faselst  liarliarisin  aiid  hy  ihc  brcaili  of 
cicalli  of  cvcrylliiiig  wliicli  cliiigs  lo  ilic  past.*« 


Fiinccss  Marie  Honapanc  solitilcd  Rollarurs  aid  in  Iryinjj 
lo  sccuic  a  Nobel  Priic  for  Fieml.  licransc  of  tlie  gracc  aiid 
liicidily  of  Frciid's  siylc,  shc  believc«!  Iic  would  havc  a  hcncr 
«liancc  for  llic  lileiary  awaid  llian  llic  NoIkI  riizc  for 
Mcdicine.  Kolland  was  deliglilcd  lo  snlunit  Irciids  naine  to 
llic  Swedish  Acadeiiiy;  liowcvcr,  liis  expeclaiioos  for  siiccess 
werc  low  priinarily  bccausc  llic  conienis  of  Freuds  wrilings 
did  not  free  pcoplc  froin  fear  and  anxiciy.  Freud  probed  loo 
dceply;  bis  concliisions  werc  uiiscllliiig.  Furibcrniorc,  inany 
gieat  wriiers  bad  bcen  ignorcd  by  ibis  celebraicd  world 
oig-ani/iuion: 

You  know  niy  aircciionatc  adiniiaiion  for  S.  Freud. 
It  would  be  a  plcasiire  and  au  lionor  for  mc  lo  nominale 
bim  lo  ibe  Swedisb  Acadeniy  for  llie  Nobel  Prize  of 
Lileraiure.  » 

Hut  I  grcally  f6ar  lliai  tbc  proposal  lias  lilllc  cbancc. 
Tbc  example  of  Hcrgson  llial  you  iiivokc  is  explaincd  by 
ibc  inagic  of  bis  style  and  by  bis  reassiiriiiß  idealism. 
S.  Freud  is  bardly  reassiuingl  1  do  not  forget  wilb  decp 
biiieiness  tliat  ibc  greaiest  of  ibe  Englisb  wriiers  of  our 
times,  lliomas  Ilardy.  nevcr  received  tbc  priie . . .  •» 

On  Janiiary  29,  1936.  Freud  telegiapbed  Rolland  a 
grcelinj;  in  bonor  of  bis  seveniielli  birlbday.  It  read;  *•  Ueit 
ivisbes  your  faitbful.  Sigmund  Freud."  •• 


Dcspiic  bis  forecasls.  Freud  iniislered  ibe  sircnglli  lo 
producc  inorc  tban  a  nicre  iclegrain  lo  celebraic  Kollaiurs 
seyeniieib  birlbday.  Tbc  intiinalc  yet  clusive  paper,  'VA 
Disiurbancc  of  Memory  on  ibe  Acropolis:   An  Opeii  l.elter  lo 

»•I^Ucr.  Rolland  lo  Vlcior  Wllikowslil,  May  19.  1936.  A.  R.  R. 

•f  l-cllcr.  Rulland  lo  Marie  Ili>iiii)arlc.  jaii.  20.  |«J3ö.  A.  R.  R.;  also  icc 
Journal  hilimc,  Otl.  I,  1935  Jiily.  1936.  |».  60,  A.  R.  R. 

M  TcIcKrani.  Fieiul  lo  Kollanü.  Jan  29.  1930.  A.  R.  R.  lU  pcriolwlon  ol 
Sigmund  Ficucl  Copplgblf. 


Si|rmiind  Freud  and  Romain  Rolland 


49 


Romain  Rolland  on  ibe  Occaslon  of  bis  Scvenlieib  Birlbday/* 
(daied    January.    1936).    demonsiratcd.    on    a    lurfacc    Icvcl. 
Freuds  exiraordinary  fondness  for  bis  French  friend.     Takcii 
at  face  value.  Freuds  opening  paragraph  was  eulogislic: 

...  I  bave  inadc  long  efforis  to  find  somclbing  that  might 
111  any  way  bc  worlby  of  you  and  mJgbt  givc  cxpression  lo 
niy  admiiaiion  for  your  lovc  of  truib.  for  your  couragc  in 
your  belicfs.  and  your  affection  and  good  will  towardj 
bumanity;  or  again,  soinelliing  ibat  migbt  bear  wiiuess 
to  my  gratiludc  lo  you  as  a  wrilcr  wbo  bas  afforded  mc  lo 
many  momenis  of  exaltation  and  picasure.** 

Wbat  Freud  gave.  bowcvcr.  was  not  a  culogy.  but  tbc  *'  gift 
of  an  Impoverisbed  creaturc."  A  dose  analysis  of  tlic  tcxt 
Jliould  providc  a  significant  cluc  to  tbc  rccurring  lension  in 
Freuds  aliiiiide  toward  Rolland~ibc  psycbical  source  ol 
Freud's  ambivalent  feelings  for  bis  "  rcvered  friend." 

Tbc  paper  appeared  lo  bavc  noibing  wbauoever  to  do 
wilb  Rolland,  nor  was  it  clear  wby  tbc  French  wrilcr  migbt 
bc    inicresied    in   iis  subjcct   matter.      In   tbe   papcr,    Freud 
recounted  tbc  deiails  of  an  incident  wbicb  bad  occurred   in 
laic  August,  1904.     Wbilc  on  vacaiion  in  Triestc,  Freud  and 
bis  youngcr  broibcr  Alexander  diangcd  tbcir  plam  to  visit 
Aibcns.    Ahbougb  tbc  idca  of  visiiing  Greecc  Icft  tbem  botb 
"discontenicd,*   ihcy  travcllcd   tlierc  for  lomc   incxplicablc 
reason.    Oncc  in  Atbcns.  Freud  cxpcricnced  a  itrangc  feeling 
of  disbelief;    bis  Iboiigbis  werc  expressed  in  tbc  cxclamaiion: 
"So  all  Ibis  really  does  cxist.  just  as  wc  Icamt  aj  scbooll"  ••• 
Freud  focused  tbc  rcmaindcr  of  tbc  paper  on  an  analyiical 
evaluaiion  of  Ibis  thougbi.  including  an  cxplanaiion  of  bis 
broibers  astonisbmcnt  at  bis  cxpression  of  disbelief,  an  cluci- 
daiion  of  tbc  conccpt  of  "derealiiaiion."  and  an  Intcrprcuiivc 
Solution  to  tbc  riddlc  of  tbe  incident-wby  it  rccurrcd  in  bis 
niemory. 

To  inicrpret  ibc  undcriying  causcs  of  bis  mcmory  di*. 

••  Slf  miind  Kf ciiil.  -  A  Dliiurliancc  o(  Mcroorr  on  ibc  Acrot>olb*    A«  Orw^ 

Stanämrd  täihutn,  XXII.  pp.  259  21»  »•■"•o*/,     |i:»JO). 

•♦^IMd..  p.  241. 


5U 


D.ivid  janici  Fisher 


liirhaiirc  aiul  ilic  aaomp.iiiyin^  tlisinrtioii  of  hiscory.   Frciitl 
arKiie.l  ihai  liis  incictluliiy  ai  jctiiij;  ihc  Acropolis  arosc  Irom 
a  (liJMluHxl  (idiilii   ihai   |r-   wonid  cver  src  Athens;    lic  Itail 
not   «loiiltud   ilic   cxiticiue  of   Alliciu   inclf.      Ilis  srcniirisin 
al)ouc  Ilis  al>ilily  to  "  iravcl  so  far  "  was  itlauil  lo  liia  lifo  Um^ 
lüvc   o(   iravclliiif;.   wliiVli    in   lurn   «IcrivrtI    fiuiii   a   ivisli    lo 
csrai>c  criiain   hiinlciis   of  liis   yuiiili   and    fauiily   lifc.     Tlic 
disiurhih);  (|iialiiy  altotit  |;(»i„(.  "  mrIi  a  long  »vay  "  was  iliat 
II  iMvolvid  siiipassing  hjs  f;„licr.  hoili  in  icinis  of  ilie  giandcur 
of  ilic  wisli  und  in  icrnis  of  ilic  proliiliiiion  agaiust  fulfdlinL' 
•  lic    im|Hdse.      Tl.c   f.uil(    |  mul    feit   on    liij   airival   nt   llic 
Atropolis,  likc  llic  dtprcssion  cxpcritnccd  M    I  riesle,  was  ilic 
iinconsrions  giiilt  frh  hy  a  son  aliont  liis  sn|iciioriiy  ovcr  liis 
faihcr.     1  hiis,  an  osiciisildy  picasiiialdc  iiioiiunl  liad  involved 
Irciidj    implied    fallier    criiirisni    for    liaviii^»    accoinpliihed 
soiiieiliiii|;  Ijeyond  ihc  realin  of  liis  lailicr's  capaciiies;   litis  led 
lo   uiieasiiiess   on    Freud»   pari.      And    so    Freii(i    concluded: 
"Tliiis  wliat  inierfcred  wiili  oiir  enjoynient  of  ilic  journcy  lö 
Aliiens  was  a  fcelinj;  of  filial  piely."  '•• 

Tlioiiuli   Freuds  sklf  analysls  of  ilic  rccurring  naiurc  of 
this    incideiit    is   plausible,   oilier   cxplanaiions   are    possible 
Stholars  liave  vicwed  Freuds  l.cller  lo  Rolland  m  a  "  small 
niasicrpiece."  a  "  liierary  Bcm."  a  "  work  of  an."  and  as  proof 
of  Freuds  •'great  adiniraiioii  for  liini  (UollandJ." '*• 

Slochower  aciounis  for  llic  nnanalyied  voyeurislic  aspecls 
of  llic  paper  and  for  Freuds  Sensation  of  liaving  oncc  seen 

•••  Ibid.,  pp.  2<7  218. 

»••  See  lci,«cl|»elr.  Mailhc  KoIhtM.  ÜOrJ,/,,  4  Motte.  f,cud  tt  U  con. 
^,n,ce  ,,.,vt  (l'a,|,.  |!17<).  pp  aU;  „„,,  sio<l„.wtr.  "  t,„uV,  -  lUiA  Vu' 
on  ll.e  At,..poll.:  A  Sp.,lH>lic  Kelle  o(  •  Milcr  NuJ,,-"  Tht  V,ithoL«hHc 
Qu.„«y.    Vol.    XXKIX     Na.    I.    1070.    p.    IH);     M.,k    R.n.cr.   -  SV^SZlnd 

IX/0.  p.  555:  Anna  Ficud  ,...1  Ja,„c.  .Sl.acl.t,.  it«n.U„l  fMtion.  XXII  p  2S0 
^o,  o«l.tr  .Mc«.n«M.  „I  11.1.  p.,«,,  cü„,..|,  J„|,„  Ahlml.  •  l.cudi  lün.cca 
»ccl.Mß,  .1,«,,,  All.c.»  «„  ,|.e  A.,..p..|i,.-  AmttUa»  l,„ago.  V..I    XXVI    N«    4 

^^''i"\ «  "'  M""0'y  «-.   .I.c   Ac,..,«II.-  I.,   Rc|„l..„  .0  l.le.,.l.y  lli..«?/ 

V  ".  yV  ^''"''  ""  "«kK'O""««  "I  »icu.!,  |li.iu,b»nc  ü,,'  le 
summ,  r.tml,  •ni.,..,|.„ue  ..I  Mcmo.y  „„  ,|,e  A.ropoll,-  .„J  e  PoMtm 
t>n.to,  V..I.  XXVI.  No.  i.   Wlnlc,   IW.-J.  pp    JC«  572  ""'""'•        '*""""'» 


Sigmund  Freud  and  Romain  Rolland 


51 


I he  A,  ropohs    (of  havin«  heen  ihcrc  bcfore)    by  emphaslzjnß 
llic  do.ninani   role  of  mo.her  f.gures.     Freud',  memory   was 
dislurbcd.    SIcKhower   spcculaies.    becausc    hc    associaicd    llie 
Acropolts  wtth  a  nicnacing  imagc  of  bis  molhcr.    Tbc  memory 
distiirbance  arosc  becausc  of  ihc  conilict  bciwccn  »ceinK  il« 
»ymb«.lit  iinagc  of  ihe  moil.cr's  geniialia  and  Freuds  fear  of 
«loii.ß  so;    Uli,  conflici  explains  Freuds  guilt  and  lii,  desirc  to 
conccal    il.e   cpismle.     Slochower   irace,    ihe   classic   fear    of 
casiraiion  in  Freud  lo  a  repressed  memory  of  having  ,ccn  his 
moihcr   nude   as   a    foiir   ycar  old    child.      flisioritally.    the 
cpisodc    might    havc    been    triggered    by    Freud",    uncasines, 
aboul    Ins      ocdipal    relaiionship "    lo    Wilhelm    Flies,;     ihe 
frtendship  will.  Fliess  had  laken  a  bad  lurn  in   1904.  Flies, 

iialii" "•'••'  "'"'   '"""*  ''■"*  '''*ß'"'"*'  '•'»  Discovery  of  biscx- 

Kanter  approaches  ihc  paper  as  a  ".elfanalyUc  .cwion." 

Ic  uncovcr,  ihrec  insiances  of  Freud",  ambivalence  and/or 

hüsuliiy  ioward  Rolland:    f.rse.  ihe  paper  is  noi  ccicbralory  in 

conicnl.  Ihc  givcr  ungraciously  admiuing  hi,  "  difTiculilc,  "  in 

wriiing  Ihc  Opcn  Lciicr;  jccond.  Freud",  insisicncc  on  hi,  own 

os,  of  poivcr   implies   ll.ai   Kolland",  crcaiivc  cnergic,  will 

likewisc  dimintsh  as  hc  ages;   iliird.  Freud",  veilcd  comparLon 

wiih  Rolland  ,  modc  of  ,crving  humanity.  thc  oblique  rcfcrcnce 

lo  Ihc  consolalions  of   religion  and   art   a,  opposcd   to  the 

dcmysttfying  insighis  of  jcicncc.'»« 

F.irther.nore.  Kanzer  observe,  that  Freud  revcrse,  hi, 
idcniiiy  wall  Rolland  on  ,cvcral  occasion,  within  ihe  body  of 
»he  paper.  A,  Freud  becomc,  il,e  patieni  in  ihe  »elf  analytic 
Session,  ihe  Frcnch  wriler  becomc,  ihc  analy«,  hence  Flieu* 
Jticcessor.  Will.  Rolland  addressed.  bul  ,ilent.  Freud  replacc, 
hin,  a,  a  wriler.  Hccause  of  thc  "Transferencc  "  phenomena  in 
Freud,  Cham  of  associaiions.  Rolland",  role  in  the  paper  «ivc, 
way  lo  Ihe  ,ibling  .ubsiiiuie.  Alexander  Freud.  And  finally. 
while  faniasizmg  himself  in  Na,K.leon-,  place  at  thc  moment  o 
coronaiion  at  Noire  Dame  in  Pari,,  Freud  usurp,  boih  Rolland*, 
religio..,  fa.th  and  naiionaliiy.«»» 


52 


David  Jaincs  Fislicr 


SJKmnnd  Freud  aml  Romain  Rolland 


53 


r. 


Kaiiicr  conchidcj  ili.nt  Frciia'i  rißoroiii  aiul  imajslnailvc 
seif  analysii  not  oiily  climinatri  Irciitrj  rival  faihcraiid  llrotlicr. 
hui  alio  by  infcrcncc  climiiiaics  ilic  rival  Rollami;  Frciul'j 
-nnlyiii  hat  allayctl  iiis  giiilt  willioiit  liavhiß  cradicaicd  llie 
iinlin|)|)jnc5j  of  an  old  man  v/itli  biitcr  incmoricj.  Yct  for 
rCan/cr,  Frcud'j  confroniacion  witli  old  agc  is  ullinialcly 
••  rcaliuic,"  tliat  lj,  insigliiful  witliout  bcing  ciilicr  neurone  or 
consolalory.  Iiis  scifanalyjij  having  |cd  tu  tlic  "liarmüniouj 
rcsointion  of  tlie  conilicting  forcc."  '•• 

In  contrait  to  tlic  dcfinitivcncjj  of  tliis  aijciimcnl,  I  sce 
llic  |>aper  niorc  problcniatically;  I  hold  iliat  Freudj  analysls 
lias  not  rcjolved  ilic  variouj  anibiguitics  in  liie  papcr.  Tliii 
is  particnlarly  apparcnt  with  rcgard  to  its  conclujion  wlieii 
Frcn<!  rcaucrtj  his  uncasincis,  hii  anxicty  abuiit  old  age  and 
dcclining  |)owcr,  and  wiicn  he  picadj  for  rcstraint  and 
patiencc  froni  Rolland. 

'Ihc  folloiving  linc  pf  argument  is  luggcjtcd.    Tl.e  paprr 
hai  a  contrapunlal  itmölure   which  centcrs  around   Frciid'o 
piojection  of  extreme  jtrength  and   wcakne«  onto  liimscif. 
It  u  writien  by  a  man  wlio  had  "sccn  betler  days,"  yct  by 
ihe  jamc  man  wlioic  sclcntiflc  discovcrici  could  be  applied  "  by 
a  hold  cxtcnjion.  to  tlic  human  racc  as  a  ivholc."    In  tlie  $amc 
|>an!graph  in  wliicli  hc  discusjcj  bis  relative  diuatijfaction  and 
jMJwerIcMneM  ai  an  adoicscent.  hc  spcaki  of  bis  icJt  for  travel  ••' 
in  cpic  icinu:     "...one  fceli  oncielf  like   a   bcro   who   has 
pcrfonucd   dcedj   of   Iniprobablc   grcatncM."      Freud    evokc« 
anoiber  grandiose  Image  of  binuclf  in  comparing  a   makc- 
IhtIicvc  convenation  hc  might  havc  had  wiih  Alexander  as  a 
diild  to  a  remark  allcgcdly  made  by  Napoleon  to  bis  broibcr 
at  thc  moment  of  thc  Corsican'i  "coronation  as  Empcror." 
Finally.  thcrc  ii  Frend'i  icnsc  of  a  loss  of  productivc  powcra, 
hii  dciirc  to  create  lomctliing  worihy  of  Rolland,  expressed  at 
ilic  bcguinmgof  thc  papcr.  and  a  concluding-almost  paihclic- 
plea   for   Rolland'i   "  forbcarance "   becausc   of   age   and    an 

••*  nu,  JJ7.  JS9.  ui. 

.1...'!!^*''  ""•'""""«  »"".•"'"  •"«''•  ^"""  Inlcprcl,  Fred-,  .rabllloo  to 
♦1.1«  U.C  Aa»,K.IU  ..  Il.e  lulf.llmrni  o(  ,  po«„lul  o<di,..|  dc.l.t:  "  ,|^ 
»,jc.cnc.  o»  .h.  Jou.nct  ..  wo,.,.,  ol  .  hcl.-,  uward- ,.,' |,  cou.ou  „;;n  o« 
wlUi  Ilic  lUiXbcr  In  Uili  liiu>ui|>aijblc  .«Hing.'    ||,i,/.,  „.  534.   '"'"""•  «""'<"» 


i 
I 


inabiliiy  10  travel.  Moreover.  thc  idca  of  Frcud'i  humility  and 
inipoicncc  was  offset  by  thc  reality  of  bis  ability  to  posc 
brilliani  thcorctical  solniions  to  problems.  in  this  inslance 
10  explicaic  ilie  meaning  of  thc  meniory  disturbance. 

Aloiigside  of  his  own  personal  hesilaiions.  Freuds  attl- 
ludcs  towaitl  Alexander  had  been  marrcd  by  "  inteifcrcnce  " 
at  ll.c  timc  of  ihe  incidcni.    Thcy  boih  had  fcU  gloomy  alxjut 
ihe  prospect  of  going  to  Greetc  whilc  in  Trieste.     Ilowcvcr 
oncc  thcy  had  reached  thc  Acropolis.  and  after  Freud  had 
cxpcrienccd  Ins  Sensation  of  amazement.  he  did  not  ask  bis 
broiber  liow  he  feit:  "  A  certain  amounl  of  rescrve  surroundcd 
Ihe  wholc  episode."  •••    Tbc  specific  "  Inlcrferencc  "  bctwcen 
Uiem.  Freud  asscrted.  had  been  his  broihcr's  astonishmcnt  at 
bis  cxpression  of  disbclief.    "  Whai  hc  had  been  cxpectiiig  wa, 
raihcr  so.nc  exprcssion  of  delight  or  admiration."  Furtherrnüre, 
u  I,  cxplicily  siatcd  in  thc  papcr.  as  well  as  repcaicd  in  a  leitcr 
to   Arnold    Zweig   during    thc   lame    montli.»»    that    Freud 
assoc.aled  Rolland  with  his  brother;   thcy  werc  ü.c  »amc  age: 
My  brother  is  ten  years  younger  iban  I  am.  so  lie  Is  thc  «mc 
age  as  you-a  coincidcnce  which  hai  only  occurrcd  to  me."  "• 
Wlut  associatcs  Rolland  and  Alexander  further  was  thc  ex- 
pectation  on  botl,  thcir  paru  that  ihey  wouldreccivecxpressions 

uJJT'''  '°"'  ^"""^  °"  ''""  ^•'PPy  occasions;  „cilhcr 
Rolland  on  Ins  .cvcnticth  birthday  nor  Alexander  on  first 
•eeing  thc  Acropoli,  wcrc  prescnted  with  thc  anticipaicd 
response.  Wben  Freud  make,  thc  transiiion  from  thc  descrip- 
uvc  10  thc  analytlcal  .cclion  of  thc  papcr.  hc  .witche.  hl, 
narrauve  from  thc  fint  pcrson  «ingular  to  thc  first  penon 
Plural.  Thc  logical  Implicatlon  is  that  Alexander  shared 
Freud  i  guilt  toward  his  falber.  What  Freud  ü  doing  hcre  is 
brolher"^  ""consciously  hi,  own  falber  criticisin  on  to  his 

Mo,t  crucially.  Freud*!  associatlons  in  Uie  papcr  lead  him 

rom  an  ana  ysis  of  thc  brothers'  Imprenion,  to  thc  idea  of 

Joint  guilt  „iih  rcfercncc  to  thcir  faihcr.    In  thc  process.  hc 

Uli«."'"."'''*.'"*  °'  """°T  on  «he  AciopolU."  p.  24S 

•'•    A  I)J..u,l>»,ue  Ol  Memo.,  „„  u.e  Aci^^lU."  p    «0  ^' 


54 


Davitl  jaincs   Tislicr 


tliaws  an  iinfhitlcring  tli.narini/atioii  of  liis  loii|;  cicceascd 
(ailicr:  "  Onr  (allicr  liad  hccii  in  hiisiiicss,  lic  liad  iio  sccoiulaiy 
cdiuaiion.  and  Allicns  ronld  noi  liave  niraiK  iniii  li  (o  liini."  '** 
Yci  Irciicrs  cxplanaiion  <>(  liis  incinoiy  distiiiliafirc.  iliat  liis 
sciitiinciits  of  filial  piciy  aiosc  fioni  rrvcicnrc  for  and  faitli- 
fulncss  lo  liis  paicnis,  |>aili(  niaily  liis  fadirr.  is  incoinplclc. 
One  could  argnc  tliat  tlic  nnanaly/cd  incon|;rniiies  in  tlic 
|>a[)cr,  in  addiiion  lo  Frcnd's  personal  Ihicinalions.  derivc  froin 
liasic  conilicts  in  I'rcnd's  |isyclie.  Tliiis,  che  ineniory  dislnr- 
hance,  ihc  depiession.  llic  einergcntc  uf  inicrirrencc  and  in- 
crednlily  beiween  Trend  and  liis  lirollier  give  rise  In  nnavowed 
bnt  disinrbed  feelings  froni  Frend  Ioward  Holland.  Tiend's 
inierference  witli  Alexander  spills  over  lo  Kolland.  Fiirilier- 
niorc.  tlic  unconscious  discrepancy  lielween  Frend's  (eelings  of 
lieroisni  and  powerlessness  |)oint  lo  gnill  ns  llic  key  tansal 
agency  in  ilic  episodc. 

Cnilc  explaiiis  wliy  ilie  incident  was  oidy  parlially  ex- 
plained  in  ilie  pa|>er.  Flic  gnill  ilscK  derived  fioni  Frend's 
ambivalent  atiiindc  iowhrd  liis  fallier,  liis  internal  conflict 
nianifested  iiself  llirongli  patricidc  as  well  as  tliroiigli  snperego 
ideniifitation  ("filial  piety  ")  wich  liis  failier.  llie  classical 
lovehatc  feeling,  ilie  inipulse  to  onlsirip  liis  fatlier  wliicli 
clashed  wiih  liis  awareness  of  tlic  forhiddcn  iiainrc  of  ihat 
wish,  converged  lo  prodncc  Frend*s  resisiaiuc  and  gnill.  In 
Ficndian  terms,  Freuds  anxiety  over  hisdesire  to  kill  liis  fatlier, 
matched  hy  his  longing  for  his  faiher's  love  and  protection, 
piovide  Ihc  censoring  agency  and  dyiiamics  for  iliis  specific 
episodc.  Metapsythologically,  Frend's  iinresolved  ocdipal 
feelings  for  his  fatlier  hecarne  llic  rnoior  forrc  in  die  inevitahic 
tcnsion  c^used  by  Frend's  nrge  to  love  (ihc  iiisiinct  of  Eros) 
and  to  liaic  (tlic  instinci  of  dcstruclion) . 

Frend  connected  age  wich  loss  of  power  ("  I  am  len  years 
older  llian  yoii  and  rny  poweis  of  production  arc  at  an  cnd  •*) . 
liis  netirosis  about  his  age  wem  band  in  band  witli  h^ 
paiernalistic  feelings  toward  die  yoiingcr  Rolland.  Tbc  Freud- 
Rolland  relationship,  in  Freuds  miiid,  re  ciiaMed  ihc  falber- 
son   patierii    in    terms   of   an    cldcr   broihers    feelings    for   a 

"II  /6W..  p.  247. 


Sigmund  Freud  and  Romain  Rolland 


55 


chcrished  younger  sibliiig.     In  ihc  paper,  Freud  had  compared 
Iwo  varictics  of  dishclief.  llic  scnsalioiis  of  dcrealization  and  of 
••  loo  good  10  bc  irue."  ••>     Fiemrs  Sensation  of  incredulity  in 
Athens  in   VJOi  was  not  tinlike  onc  which  he  dcscribed  in  a 
I!I2Ü  leter  lo  Rolland:    thcre.  Iie  implied  Rolland's  fricndship 
snrpassed  bis  cxpeclations  and  fullilled  a  specific  ambition."* 
Frend's  giiih  abont  his  faihcr  was  cxacerbaied  by  liaving  pre- 
senied  Rolland  with  a  birihday  prcscnt  witb  such  cmotionally 
charged  conicnis.  Wc  kiiow  tliat  Freud  dislikcd  -  exaggerated  - 
cxpressions  of  sympatliy.  especially  for  cclebrations  like  birth- 
days.«'^     In  his  revolt  agaiiisi  iliis  "conveniion,"  bc  offered  a 
gifl  which  not  only  fccorded  liisown  divided  psychc,  but  which 
also  qiiestioned  whclhcr  hc  •clescrved  *  Rollands  fricndship^ 
a  man  wlio  "  kncw  how  to  givc  prcscnis." 

If  WC  assunic  ihai  Frciidf  ainbivalencc  toward  his  falber 
was   dtsplaced    on    to    Rolland,   ii   is    probable   tliat    Freuds 
laudatory    remarks,   onc   miglit   say    his    cllusivc    flaticry    of 
Rolland  in   die  fii^t  paragrapb  of  tlic  open  Icitcr.  werc  in- 
tended    lo   compcnsatc    Rolland.      Freud    disguised    bis   dual 
fcclmgi  for   Rolland  by  cxaggcratiiig   the  positive   naiurc  of 
Ins  fricndship;    i>crliaps  hc  also  wishcd  to  makc  amcndj  to  ihe 
Frciich   writer  for   the   wouiiding   psycliological   truths   about 
himscif,  and  tbc  feelings  about  his  faihcr,  expressed  in  ihc 
niaifi  body  of  the  paper.    Dtic  lo  tlieir  prior,  unrcsolved  dcbatc 
on  Ihc  -oceanic"  Sensation,  and   bccausc  Freuds  feelings  of 
ainbivalcncc   had  surfaced    in    his    May.    1931    Ictlcr,   Frcud'j 
memory  of  Rolland  involvcd  mixcd  emoiions.     It  is 'probable 
ihai  Freud  harbored  a  gricvancc  against  Rolland,  and  tbat  no 
dctads    of    the    "occanic"    incident    werc    forgoticn.      Tlic 
Acropohs  episodc  rcawakencd    his  feelings  of  attmction   for 
and   Separation    from   Rolland,   ihc  unhridgeablc   difrerences 
bciween  the  great  occanic   friend   and   the  terrestrial  animal. 
Ilaving   feit    unwprthy    bccausc  of  criminal    feelings   for   bis 

•"/fciM.  pp.  U2  2i%. 
avc    lovT  iL  /        '^  «Mrnilo.,   „    a||.      |,„,    J,^„  ^^„   „^,'  ^^         \ 

I  äacn.  11.  r;:;,!:  ir:r';jn  ^  iiti.!.:  ^  •  ^""'"""^  ^'''•^'  ^^  "^* 

^^^   M«  riu  r.y.hupalholugy  of  tv.vfäay  if/e.  Standard  EäiUon.  VI.  pp.   151- 


56 


David  Jaincs  Fislicr 


Sigmund  Freud  and  Romain  Rolland 


67 


faihcr,  Freud  asVcd  for  "  forlicarancc/*  liopinß  ilial  Rolland 
(likc  Ins  fathcr)    would  cxcrcisc  paticncc  and   resiiaint  witli 
rcj^ard   lo  llic  morc  agjjrcssivc  sicic  o(  liis  amhivalcncc,   iliat 
aide  whicli  picturcd  hin)  as  unlicroic.  a  rival  or  a  failurc, 

Insliorl,  Freud  liad  hit  uj :onadcc|Jiiuili  v/licn  licniadcllic 
confcsiion:  "  tlic  person  wlio  gavc  expression  lo  tlic  rcmark 
was  dividcd,  far  morc  sharply  ilian  was  usnally  noticcablc . .  /•  »•• 
Wiihout  entircly  rcalizing  it  liimsclf,  Freuds  chronic  ambiv- 
alencc  for  liis  fallier  was  extendcd  to  his  fcelings  loward 
Rolland. 

It  is  likely  ihat  Rolland  was  informcd  ahoul  bul  did  not 
read  Frcud's  analysis  of  die  memory  disiurhantc.  Afier 
thanking  Freud  for  liis  birtliday  telegiaiii,  hc  spolcc  of  his 
feelings  of  respecl  and  aflectioii  for  die  Viaiiicsc  physician. 
In  die  leiier  wliich  would  he  llie  last  direcl  tominunicaiion 
froin  Rolland  to  Freud,  ihc  French  wriler  accincd  unaware 
of  Freud'«  ambivalent 'feelings  for  liini.  Willi  conirollcd 
cniolion,  hc  mcniioned  boih  che  birlh  of  iheir  friendship,  his 
cternal  graticudc  lo  Zweig  for  having  iiilroduced  ihcin.  and 
his  sensc  of  ihc  muiualiiy  of  ilieir  relaiionship.  "  You  know 
whai  profound  respect  1  have  for  tlic  man  wliose  fearicss 
glancc  has  penelraicd  to  ihe  bolloin  of  ihc  iiilcrnal  abyss.  I 
luve  adniired  him  for  a  long  limc.  I  am  happy  and  proud  of 
his  sympalhy."  "• 


Zv/elg  continued  as  intermediaiy  bctwceii  Freud  and 
Rolland  in  FremPi  last  ycars.  On  February  17,  1936.  hc 
rcipiesied  Rolland's  signaiurc  for  an  international  cominittee 
honoring  Freud's  eighticlh  birtliday.«»'  Freud  ihanked  Rolland 
for  pariicipaiing  in  ihc  birlhday  ccicbration  in  a  iwo  part 
noie.  The  printed  part  read:  "  I  ihank  you  cordially  for  ihc 
part  you  played  in  thc  ccicbration  of  my  cightictli  birlhday. 
Youri  Freud."    Thc  persoiially  inscribed  scciion  read: 

I  cannot  teil  you  liow  glad   I  was  to  rcceive  your  aiilo- 
graphcd  note.    I  am  far  from  heilig  as  inscnsilivc  lo  piaisc 

•••-A  l)laiiiibaiic<  ül  Mciiiorf  oii  Ihc  Acfoixillt.**  p.  211. 
>!•  Ixllcr.  Kolland  lo  ricu«l,   tcl»    fl,  fyjti.  A.  K.   IL 
«»»l^llcr,  Sidan  Iweig  lo  KolhiiJ,  Ycb.  17.  IWß.  A.  II.  U. 


and   blame  as  I  would  likc  to  appcar  through   natural 
scIfKicfcnsc."« 

Tlic  last  direcl  conlact  between  Rolland  and  Freud  occurred 
In  carly  1937.  Rollandi  sccond  wife.  Marie  Romain  Rolland, 
had  written  Freud  asking  for  icvcral  copies  of  signed  manu- 
Kripu  wliich  would  bc  sold  at  an  auciion  to  raisc  moncy  for 
thc  Spanish  Republicans.  Freud  complicd  and  addcd 
ironically: 

Dear  Madame 

Merewith  two  samples  of  my  handwriiten  production« 
Do  you  iruly  belicvc  tliat  peoplc  would  glvc  moncy  for 
that? 

My  cordial  rcgards  lo  you  and  Romain  Rolland. 

Your  dcvoied 
Freud  "• 

Enthusiasllc  aficr  scelng  Freud  in  Vienna  in  February. 
1937,  Zweig  wrolc  that  only  thc  "old"  continued  to  slruggle 
iniellectually  in  thc  modern  world."»  Laie  in  1937,  Zweig  rc- 
visiied  his  maslcr  In  Vienna;  he  found  Freud  ••admirable. 
cicar  in  mind.  füll  of  unshakeable  convictionj  and  new 
kindness  in  bis  old  age."  "^ 

Thc  Nazi  invasion  of  Austria  on  March  II.  1938  madc 
llfc  Insupporlablc  for  Freud.  Hc  Icft  Vienna  wiih  his  family 
for  London  on  June  4.  1938.  Zweig  mcniioned  his  "  joyful.'* 
reunion  wiih  Freud  in  England  in  a  leiier  daied  June  21,  1938. 
Alihough  thc  fascisli  had  sirippcd  him  of  his  maierial  rcsour- 
CCS  and  iricd  lo  destroy  his  books.  Frcud'i  mind  remaincd 
••  indcpendent  and  combalivc/*  Recause  of  his  ill  healih,  Zweig 
again  rcquesied  Rolland's  sup|)ort  in  obiaining  a  Nobel  Priie 
for  Freud.'" 


««•txllcr.    Freud    lo    Rolland 
Slgaiund    Ficud  Otpyilglui. 
AI*  Leiter,   riciid  lo 


May.  .1956.   A.    R.    R.      hf    perinluloa    of 


»«•toller,  riciid  lo  Maile  Romain  Rolland.  Jan.  ö,  I9S7.  A.  R.  R      Br 
pctnilsilon  o(  SiKinnnd  Ffciid  Co|>yrighii.  '        ' 

iMUllcr,  Zweig  lo  Rolland,  teil.  IB.   1937.  A.  R.  R. 

'      III  i^llrr      7%äi^i»    Ia    D#^II^...I      l\^^     1      ana*!       Ann 


Uller.  Zweig  lo  Rolland,*  Dcc.  7,  1957.  A.  R.  R. 
ixUllcr.  Zweig  lo  Rolland.  June  21.  1950.  A.  R.  R. 


•s 


Si(>iiiiiiul  Ficiid  niid  Romain  Rolland 


59 


BH 


David    |anics  Fislicr 


Rolland  liad  (ollowul  llic  iicws  o(  rrciid's  liaiassincnt  hy 
die  Na/is  and  his  (ort cd  cxpaliialion.  Ifitirr's  ciUiancc  inio 
Virnna  and  iUt  liaisli  trrannciu  of  Ficnd  liy  tlic  fasi  ist  van- 
i|nisli(:is  stinuilalcd  Rolland  lo  dcciaini  an^^iily  aliont  lliosc 
"hrstially  hrniali/cd  "  nicn  wlio  snircrcul  un<lcr  llic  (ascist 
yokc: 

1  lic  World  lias  l(»5t  iis  scnsc  of  lioiior  .  .  .  Tlic  ciierßciic 
iincrvcniion  of  ilic  Ainhassador  of  ilic  Unilcd  States  was 
ncccssary  to  $avc  old  Professor  Frcnd.  octogcnarian  and 
sick,  froni  insnils  and  deaili,  and  tlic  works  of  liis  wliolc 
hic  .  .  .  VVlien  onc  evoked  tlie  riiins  of  tlic  ancient  world 
..;der  tlic  rnsli  of  tlic  Raiharians.  onc  woiild  liave  be- 
licved  tlial  an  indestriictihic  dikc  liad  lieen  constniited 
aroiind  civiliiation.  Uiit,  all  tlic  lainc,  tlie  harliarians  arc 
;.i:iid  civili/ütion  .  .  .'*• 

Ncver  blind  to  beroic  behavior,  Rolland  coninientcd  on 
Freiid's  tranmatic,  |M)ignant  last  jonrncy  in  a  letier  written 
lo  /wei(;  in  London." '* Send  Freud  gieetings  on  iiiy  bebalf. 
Prcsent  liiin  witli  niy  affec  tionatc  rcs|>ect.  1  liavc  ncver  doubted 
bis  bravery  for  an  instant.  Ilis  ciitirc  lifc  bas  been  tbe 
exaiiiplc  of  it."  "* 

1  bat  Rolland  was  fond  of  Freud  and  recognized  tlic  value 
of  bis  tbeoieiical  contribntion  can  bc  dociiinentcd  by  a  lettcr 
lic  wrotc  to  Alfred  O.  Mendel  during  tbis  period.  Mendel,  tbc 
American  cditor  of  Pyrainid  l>ooks,  was  compiling  a  series  of 
iiilnKluciory  essays  on  tbc  world's  great  tliinkcrs.  Ilaving  re- 
appraised  bis  carlier  mixed  feelings  for  licr,  Rolland  sug^ested 
tliai  Marie  Honaparte  be  given  tbc  conimission  to  write  on 
Freud  in  tbe  colleclion:  "  Iksides.  sbe  is  Frend's  best  Student 
and  bis  Aniigone  on  tbc  cartli  of  exile."  Noiwitbstanding 
ütlier  "  remarkablc "  personaliiies  in  tbc  Frciidiaii  scliool, 
Rolland  siipporicd  tbe  clioicc  of  Prinress  lionapartc.  To 
associate  llieir  naines  logetber,  bc  addcd,  woiild  bc  a  "  mag- 
nirtceiit  dcmoiistraiioii  "--a  iribnic  to  Freiid's  powcrfui  in- 
fliieiicc  in  all  realiiis  of  intelleciiial  Itle.*'* 

i>i  Komain  Rollaotl.  Journal  inlimt,  Jan..  lUSR  )aii.  10)9.  p.  29.  A.  II.  R. 
i>«Ullcr.  Rollaml  lo  SicUii   /wiri|{.  Aiigiisl  25.   IU1H.  A.  11.  R. 
I"  Ullcf.  Uollaiiil  lu  AUicd  O.  Mriulcl.  Sc|*l.  23.  PJ^H,  A.  R.  R. 


VVliilc  expressiiig  bis  genuine  sympatliy  for  Freud  tbc 
man.  bis  work,  and  bis  pligbt.  Rolland  ncver  allowed  personal 
seiHiincnis  to  blunt  liis  crilical  Opposition  to  basic  F>eiidian 
tbcory.  In  a  Ictter  to  Monod  Herzen,  tbc  man  wbose  lettcr 
had  firsi  begnn  tbc  Freud  Rolland  rclationsbip,  bc  expressed 
bis  **  rcvulsion  "  al  tbc  ciirrent  wave  of  psycboanalytic  explana- 
(ions  by  scientists,  psycbologisu,  and  bistorians,  incbiding 
Sonic  of  bis  own  friciids.  Still  resisting  some  of  tbc  universal 
p<istiilates  of  tbc  psycboanalytic  movement,  Rolland  confessed 
lliat  bc  '*  ncver  liad  tiouble  in  barmonizing  witliin  bimself  tbe 
falber  and  tbc  inolbcr."  Tbc  central  problem  with  tbc  con- 
lemporary  *'  morbid,  inaniacal  ulilization  "  of  Freudian  con- 
stnicts  was  tbe  reductionism  wbicb  accompanied  it:  "  I  bc- 
licve  lifc  to  be  inorc  rieb  and  morc  complex.  Tbc  Freudian 
liypoibesis  seenis  lo  mc  to  falsify  it,  in  siniplifying  lifc  to  tbc 
extreme— and  I  add  not  in  tbc  inost  natural  and  bealiby 
scnsc.'" 

Kolland  recordcd  sombcriy  tbc  ncws  of  Frcud's  deatb  on 
Septcinbcr  22,  1939  in  bis  private  Journal:  "  Deatb  in  London 
of  Dr.  Sigmund  Freud,  wlio  cscaped  from  tbc  Nazis  of  Ausiria 
tlianks  to  aid  from  America.    Ilc  was  83  ycars  old."  "» 

With  Frcud's  deatb  and  with  Eiiropc  on  tbc  cvc  of  a 
second  world  war,  somc  of  tbc  vast  issues  wliicli  tbc  two  liad 
disciissed  and  disagreed  over  uo  longcr  seemed  so  vitally  im- 
portant.  Traise  and  blamc,  ambivalencc  and  rcsistance,  analy- 
sis  and  ayntbesis,  irony  and  affcctioh,  all  rcccdcd  into  tbc 
background  as  Europc's  "  discontentcd  "  civilization  appeared 
to  bc  giving  way  to  barbarism.  It  was  in  tbc  mood  of  fcllowsbip 
and  of  sensitivity  to  tbc  suffering  of  otbers  tbat  Rollond  wrotc 
a  lettcr  of  bereavement  to  Zweig  dated  September  27,  1939. 
*'  I  liave  sccn  tbrough  tlic  accounis  of  Frcud's  interment  tbat 
you  werc  at  tbc  side  of  tbc  old  mastcr  wbom  you  lovcd."  *** 

David  James  Fishcr,  Pb.D. 
History  Department 
University  of  Illinois 
Urbana,  Illinois     61801 

n«  l>cilcr.  RoManil  lo  CJoiiaiü  MunocMIcricn,  Matcli  0.  I9S9,  A.  R.  R. 
nt  Hoiiiaiii  Rollaiiü.  /oiiriml  intime,  Sc|>l.  22.  I9S9,  A.  R.  R. 
IM  l^cilcr.  Rullanü  lo  Sufaii  Zweig.  S<pl.  27.  I9S9,  A.  R.  R. 


Modern  European 
Intellectual  History 


REAPPRAISALS  AND  NEW  PERSPECTIVES 


Ediled  by 

DoMiNiCK  LaCapra  and 
Steven  L.  Kaplan 


CORNELL  UnIVERSITY  PrESS 

hhaca  and  London 

nö2^ 


ClIAPTER  NiNE 

Reading  Freud's  Civilization 
and  Its  Discontents 

David  James  Fisher 


Your  letler  of  Dccember  5,  1927,  conlaining  your  fcmarks  aboul  a 
fecling  you  describe  as  **occanic"  has  Icfl  me  no  peace. 

Freud  lo  Romain  Rolland,  14  July,  1929 

I  can  al  leasl  listen  wiihoul  indignalion  lo  Ihe  crilic  who  ii  of  the 
opinion  Ihal  when  one  surveys  Ihe  aimt  of  cullural  endeavor  and  the 
means  it  employs,  one  is  bound  lo  come  lo  the  conclusion  thal  the 
whole  efforl  is  not  worlh  the  trouble,  and  thal  Ihe  outcome  of  it  can 
only  be  a  State  of  affairs  which  the  individuai  will  be  unable  to 
tolerale.  My  impadiality  is  made  all  the  easier  lo  me  by  my  know- 
ing  very  liltle  about  all  these  Ihings. 

Fieud,  Civilizaiion  and  hs  DisconUnis,  1930 

CMIization  and  Its  Discontents  can  be  viewed  as  a  starting 
point  for  the  Student  of  modern  Western  cullural  and  intellectual  his- 
tory. This  relaxed,  imaginative,  and  discursive  essay  combines  tightly 
reasoned  passages  with  lyrical  tlighls,  speculative  leaps  with  qualify- 
ing  Statements,  lilerary  with  nonliterary  forms  of  writing.  The  lext 
also  contains  some  dead  ends,  some  nonsense,  and  some  anachronis- 
tic  and  problematic  assertions,  which  can  be  jettisoned  or  radically 
revised  without  damaging  the  richness  of  the  essay.  The  art  of  reading 

Thii  paper  is  dcdkaied  lo  my  faihcr.  Marlin  M.  Fisher,  MD. 

I  am  gralcfui  lo  lx)uis  Brcger.  Peler  Gay.  Steven  L.  Kaplan.  Dominick  LaCapra.  Peler 
Loewenberg.  and  Ruih  B.  Shapiro  for  having  crilicized  an  carlier  vcrsion  of  Ihii  paper.  I 
also  Ihank  Sigmund  Freud  Copyrighls.  The  Inslilulc  of  Psycho- Analysis.  Ihe  Hoganh  Prcsi, 
and  W.  W.  Norlun  8l  Company,  ine  for  permission  lo  quole  from  Volume  21  of  The 
CompUie  Psychological  Wotks  oj  Sigmund  Freud  Iranslaied  and  edilcd  by  James  Sirachey. 

25  t 


David  James  Fisiibr 

Freud  is  not  to  take  every  word  as  revealed  Imlh;  lel  us  follow  his 
insistence  on  analytic  interpretalion  and  on  desacralization  by  viewing 
his  own  works  in  a  critical  spirit. 

Foucault  has  asserted  that  Freud  began  the  mcxlem  medical  and 
psychological  dialogue  with  unreason;  he  accomplished  this  hnguistic 
breakthrough  by  systematically  investigaling  Ihe  physician-patienl  re- 
lationship.'  Freud  was  also  an  'Initiator  of  discourse'*^  on  society  and 
culture,  employing  psychoanalytic  perspectives  to  diagnose  the  psy- 
chological roots  of  cultural  trends,  to  unearth  archaic  pattems  in  ''civ- 
ilized**  behavior,  and  to  illuminate  the  relationship  of  the  individual  to 
society. 

In  Civilizaiion  and  lis  Disconienis,  we  confront  an  author  who 
writes  without  precautions,  sometimes  without  apparent  transitions, 
who  leaves  things  out,  and  who  does  not  always  explaiii  his  premises.^ 
His  narrative  structure  is  not  linear  or  fiKused  around  one  central 
theme/  This  places  a  bürden  on  the  reader.  To  comprehend  these 
absences,  these  nonlogical  juxtapositions,  the  mixed  nature  of  the 
style,  to  grasp  the  multiple  meanings  of  the  lext,  the  reader  is  well 
advised  to  be  familiär  with  psychoanalytic  theory,  to  have  a  knowl- 
edge  of  Freud*s  revolutionary  works,  including  the  seminal  books  on 
dreams,  infantile  sexuality,  jokes,  the  psychopathology  of  everyday 
hfe,  and  the  case  studies,  in  addition  to  his  social,  anthropological, 
and  religious  writings.  Knowledge  of  Freud*s  correspondence,  his 
biography,  and  the  political  and  cultural  history  of  his  era  lielp  lo 
situate  him  and  this  text  in  its  historical  framework. 

Psychoanalysis  focuses  on  intrapsychic  conflict.  Freud  conceptu- 
alized  the  mind  in  dualisms,  in  binary  opposites.  I  have  used  the 
method  of  deciphering  contradictory  forces  to  understand  the  structure 

'Michel  Foucault.  Madness  anä  Civilizaiion:  Ä  Hisiory  oflnsanity  in  ihe  Age  of  Reawn, 
tr.  Richard  Howard  (New  York.  1973),  198.  277-278;  Foucaull.  The  Hisiory  of  Sexuality, 
Ir.  Roben  Hurley  (New  York,  1978).  53.  56,  150.  13^-139;  see  my  review  of  Foucaull' i 
Hisioire  de  la  sexualiti,  in  The  Journal  of  Fsychohistory  5  (Winter  1978)).  481-486. 

'Michel  Foucaull.  "Whai  Is  an  Author?"  in  Language.  Counier- Memory,  Praiiice:  Selec- 
ud  Essays  and  Interviews,  Ir.  and  ed.  Donald  F.  Bouchard  (ilhaca.  1977),  13 1-136; 
Foucault.  The  Order  of  Things:  An  Archaeology  of  ihe  Human  Sciences  (New  York.  1970), 
373-376 

'Provocative  readings  of  Freud 's  texts  can  be  found  in  Jacques  Lacan.  Ecrits:  A  Selection, 
ir.  Alan  Sheridan  (New  York,  1977).  114-178,  292-325;  Lacan,  "Desirc  and  the  Interpreta- 
tion of  Desirc  in  Hamlet,**  tr  James  Hulberl.  Yale  French  Studies,  no  55-56  (1977),  1 1-52; 
Samuel  Weber,  'it. "  Glyph,  4  (1978).  1-31. 

*Roy  Schafer.  "Narration  in  the  Psychoanalytic  Dialogue,"  Criiical  Inquiry  7  (1980). 
2^53;  Leo  Bersani,  'The  Oiher  Freud."  Humaniiies  in  Society  i,  no.  1  (1978).  33-49; 
Peter  Brooks.  "Freud's  Masterplot:  Queslions  of  Narrative,"  Yale  French  Studies,  no. 
55-56  (1977),  280-300;  Pcler  Brooks.  "Fictions  of  the  Wolfman:  Freud  and  Nairalive 
Understanding,"  Diacritics,  (1979).  72-81. 

252 


Reading  Freud*s  Civilizaiion  and  lls  DiscoiHents 

and  hidden  components  of  Civilizaiion  and  Its  Oiscontents.  Unravel- 
ing  these  oppositions  enables  the  reader  to  see  invisible  connections  in 
the  text,  thus  assisting  him  to  make  mediations  and  lo  1111  in  the  gaps 
between  manifest  and  latent  relationships,  which  Freud  only  hints  at. 
In  this  paper  I  shall  discuss  the  various  strategies  Freud  employs  in 
Coming  to  grips  with  Romain  Rollands  postulalion  of  the  "oceanic 
Sensation."  I  will  map  out  and  explain  Freud's  appeal  to  his  audience 
and  his  rhetorical  maneuvers  in  Chapter  i  of  Civilizaiion  and  Its 
Discontents,  his  altemation  between  a  polemical,  defensive,  and  dis- 
putatious  voice,  and  one  that  indicates  his  warmth,  vulnerability, 
modesty.  enidition,  and  creative  audacily.  I  will  examine  his  mixed 
feelings;  his  theoretical  and  speculative  passages  that  link  the  oceanic 
feeling  to  narcissism;  his  use  of  jokes,  irony,  literary  deviccs.  quota- 
tions,  and  humor  lo  evade  the  issue;  and  his  imaginative  but  abortive 
altempl  to  sei  up  explanatory  analogies  from  olher  disciplines.  The 
creative  ambiguity  of  Freuds  thought  will  be  accounted  for  in  terms 
of  his  tolerance  for  his  own  theoretical  inconsistencics  and  gaps  in 
knowledge  or  method;  that  is,  his  own  certainties  coexisted  with  un- 
decidabilily  and  plurality  of  meaning. 

Freud*s  introduction  of  Romain  Rolland,  particularly  in  Chapter  i 
but  also  throughout  the  text,  allows  him  to  scrutinize  cullure  from  a 
highly  subjective  point  of  view,  in  addition  to  one  which  appears 
disinterested.  I  will  indicate  how  Rolland  figures  in  Freud*s  analysis 
of  the  Judeo-Christian  commandment  "Lovc  thy  neighbor";  how  one 
can  extend  psychoanalytic  cultural  criticism  to  see  the  oceanic  Sensa- 
tion as  a  reaction-formation,  a  benign  desire  disguising  the  sadistic 
wish  for  the  total  annihilalion  of  mankind.  I  will  show  the  way  Freud's 
ambivalence  loward  Rolland  takes  the  form  of  bipolar  oppositions  in 
the  text:  Freud  sees  Rolland's  world  view  as  prophetic  and  saintly  but 
poses  psychoanalysis  as  a  therapeutic  tool  and  an  instniment  tq  desac- 
ralize  religious  and  mystical  modes  of  thinking.  Rolland  is  present 
throughout  the  text  as  Freud's  Double  and  Other,  an  object  of  irresist- 
ible  attraction  and  aversion,  someone  with  whom  Freud  is  deeply 
identified  and  from  whom  he  feil  unalterably  different.  Rolland  simul- 
laneously  represenls  the  achievemenls  of  Westem  civilizaiion,  and  the 
dangers  of  excessive  Sublimation.  In  short,  Freud  condenses  his  am- 
bivalent feelings  for  the  French  wriler  into  his  meditalions  on  civiliza- 
iion as  a  whole.  I  view  the  addition  of  three  footnoles  and  a  one- 
sentence  conclusion  to  the  1931  second  edition  as  a  continuation  of 
the  oceanic  Sensation  controversy,  a  displacement  of  Freud's  double 
feelings  loward  Rolland  onto  a  parallel  text.  and  Freud's  last  word  on 
the  significance  of  this  intellectual  encounter. 


253 


David  James  Fisiier 

Aller  Ihe  appeurance  of  ihe  second  edition»  Freud  senl  Rolland  a 
personally  inscribed  copy  wilh  a  dedicalion:  "Froni  the  Terreslrial 
Animal  lo  his  Greal  Oceanic  Friend/*'  This  ironic  dedicalion  gocs  lo 
Ihe  heart  of  ihe  debale  ihal  ihe  two  carried  on  and  gives  us  a  view  ol 
Freud*s  melhod  of  thinking  and  his  slyle  of  inlellectual  life.  Foucaull 
has  specified  (hat,  in  analyzing  discourse,  knowledge  of  ihe  speaker*s 
identily  and  of  his  siluation  is  oflen  as  infiporlanl  as  ihe  lexl  ilself  or 
omissions  in  the  lexl.  The  lerrestrial  animal/oceanic  friend  dicholomy 
condenses  ihe  mixed  feelings  and  ihe  almosl  unbridgeable  divergences 
of  Freud  and  Rolland.  It  also  suggesls  ihal  iheir  conlroversy,  which 
flows  inlo  ihe  enlire  fabric  of  Civilization  and  lis  Disconienis,  inlo 
iheir  letlers,  inlo  Rolland's  three-volume  study  of  indian  myslicism,^ 
and  Freud*s  1936  paper  on  the  Acropohs/  was  nol  conducled  in  Ihe 
same  conceplual  conlext.  The  debale  ended  in  an  impasse,  each  par- 
ticipant  holding  lo  his  original  position. 

Freud,  the  lerrestrial  animal,  saw  himself — possibly  too  rigidly— as 
a  scientific  psychologist,  identified  himself  wilh  the  malerial  world, 
wilh  the  biological  and  earthly  realm  of  drives,  wilh  concrele  and 
observable  data.  He  atlempted  to  speak  the  language  of  the  reality 
principle,  and  evolved  a  methodology  which  worked  on  the  level  of 
the  conscious.  Freud*s  methodology  relied  on  the  applicalion  of  logic 
to  seemingly  illogical  phenomena.  His  intelligence  was  comforlable  in 
the  analytic  register,  and  his  skeplicism  moved  toward  crilical  in- 
quiry,  nol  toward  resignation  or  despair.  Furthermore,  his  characleris- 
tic  mode  of  thinking  is  analytic.  He  was  aulhentically  self-crilical, 
exlending  his  radical  doubl  toward  himself  and  toward  his  own  theo- 
relical  perspective.  The  lerrestrial  animal  took  seriously  Charcot*s 
ironic  injunction  to  combine  theory-building  wilh  dose  Observation 
of  reality;  it  was  a  proleclive  measure  against  his  own  speculative  in- 

'For  a  füll  discussion  of  this  debale.  see  my  "Sigmund  Freud  and  Romain  Rolland:  The 
Terreslriai  Animal  and  His  Greal  Oceanic  Friend,"  AmerUan  ImaKO  33  (Spring  1976). 
1-59;  also  see  David  S.  Werman.  "Sigmund  Freud  and  Romain  Rolland."  International 
Review  oj  Psycho  Analysis  4  (1977).  225-242;  Irving  B  llarrison.  "On  Ihe  Muiemal  Ori- 
gins  of  Awe,"  The  Psychoanalyuc  Siuäy  of  the  ChiU  3«  (1975).  iBi-i95.  Irving  B  Harri- 
son.  "On  Frcud's  View  of  ihe  Infanl-Moiher  Relalionship  and  of  Ihe  Oceanic  Fceling— 
Sonic  Subjeclive  Influenccs,"  Journal  ofihe  American  Hivchoanaivtic  Association  27.  no.  I 
(1979).  39*^4J<;  an*t  ^  Moussaieff  Masson.  The  Oceanic  teelin^:  The  Ori^ms  of  Reli- 
fiious  Sentiment  in  Ancieni  Inäia  ((X)rdrechl.  Holland.  1980).  33-50 

^Romain  Rolland.  Essai  sur  la  mystique  et  I' actum  de  linde  vivante:  Ijm  vie  de  Roma- 
knshna  (Paris  1929),  and  Essai  sur  la  mystique  et  l'action  de  l'lnde  vivante:  La  vie  de 
Vivekananda  et  l'evangel  universel,  2  vols.  (Paris  1930) 

'Sigmund  Freud.  "A  Dislurbunce  of  Memory  on  ihe  Acropolis:  An  Opcn  Letter  to  Romain 
Rolland  on  ihe  Occasion  of  His  Sevenlieth  Bidhday"  (193^).  Standard  Edition  of  ihe 
Compleie  Psychological  Works  of  Sigmund  Ereud,  (London.  1964).  22:23(^248. 


Reading  Freud*s  Civilization  and  Its  Disconients 

clinations.  Nor  did  Freud  ever  propose  that  his  writings  were  defini- 
tive pn  any  subject.  His  humility  is  closely  related  to  his  melhod  of 
problem-solving.  The  derogation  of  his  own  work  was  not  merely 
ceremonial,  not  just  a  disarming  mode  of  speech,  but  an  essential  pari 
of  the  quesl  for  Irulh.  accuracy,  and  perpetuation  of  the  process  of 
understanding.  Here  is  Freuds  ironic  comment  upon  the  complelion 
of  Civilization  and  Its  Discontents,  it  reads  almost  as  a  paradigm  of 
self-deprecalion: 


Anna  has  already  told  you  thal  I  am  working  on  somelhing,  and  today  I 
have  writlen  the  last  senlence.  which — so  far  as  is  possible  without  a 
library— finished  the  work.  It  deals  wilh  civilization,  sense  of  guilt, 
happiness  and  similar  lofiy  lopics.  and  strikes  me,  no  doubt  rightly.  as 
very  superfluous — in  conlrast  to  earlier  works,  which  always  sprang 
from  some  inner  necessity.  But  what  eise  can  I  do?  One  can*t  smoke 
and  play  cards  all  day,  I  am  no  longer  much  good  al  Walking,  and  most 
of  what  ihcre  is  to  read  doesn't  inleiest  me  any  morc.  So  I  wrote.  and  in 
that  way  the  time  passed  quiie  pleasantly.  In  writing  this  work  1  have 
discovered  afresh  the  most  banal  truths.' 

Rolland,  the  oceanic  friend,  swam  in  the  boundless  waters  of  eter- 
nity  and  universal  love — his  mind  retained  access  lo  primitive  emotions; 
he  valued  the  images,  Symbols,  affects,  and  subjeclive  experiences 
Ihal  were  derivatives  of  the  primary  process.  He  was  a  mystic  and  a 
religious  believer,  and  his  Imagination  worked  intuilively,  introspec- 
lively,  and  synthetically;  he  emphasized  similarities.  not  differences, 
between  people,  groups,  nalions,  past  and  present  forms  of  religious 
and  cultural  life.  Moreover,  his  need  for  transcendence  was  linked  to 
a  search  for  totalily,  the  goal  of  which  was  for  the  individual  to 
achieve  a  Symphonie  balance  of  competing  psychic  and  social  forces. 

In  his  conlroversy  with  Rolland,  Freud  had  moved  from  an  analysis 
of  the  common  person's  religion  to  a  iheoretical  evaluation  of  the 
foundalions  of  humanistic  mysticism — to  what  Rolland  alleged  was 
the  deepest  and  most  universal  source  of  the  religious  impulse.  Rol- 
land had  touched  a  sensitive  nerve  in  pointing  out  that  Freud  had  not 
analyzed  ecslatic  stales  or  deep  introspective  feelings  in  The  Future  of 
an  Illusion  (1927).  Rolland  subsequently  described  and  coined  the 
term  *'oceanic  Sensation*'  in  an  eight-paragraph  letter  written  to  Freud 

'Letter  from  Freud  lo  Lou  Andreas- Salom^.  28  July  1929.  in  Sigmund  Freud  A  Lou 
Andreas-Salami  Leiters,  ed.  BmesI  Pfeiffer.  Ir.  William  tnd  Elaine  Robson-Scott  (New 
York.  1972).  181;  for  an  inleresiing  reply  to  Freud's  analysis  of  ihe  oceanic  Sensation,  see 
lelter  from  Lou  Andreas-Salom^  lo  Freud.  4  Jan.  1930,  ibid.,  182-183. 

255 


David  James  Fisiier 

in  December  1927,  in  which  he  pressed  Freud  tor  such  a  scientific 
evaluation.* 

Sponianeous  rehgious  sensulion,  he  (old  Freud,  was  a  pn^tonged 
intuitive  feeling  of  contact  wilh  the  eternal,  a  direct  feehng  o\  vast- 
ness,  of  living  in  or  among  immense  forces.  Rolland  insisted  that  the 
oceanic  feeling  be  researched  and  understood  as  an  energy  which 
surpassed  traditional  categories  of  time,  space,  and  causality.  It  had 
nothing  to  do  with  organized  or  instilutionalized  religion  or  promises 
of  personal  salvation.  This  *'free  vital  gushing"  {jaillissemenl  viial) 
promised  to  be  a  spontaneous  source  of  action  and  thought  that  might 
have  regenerative  powers  for  the  undeveloped  nations  of  the  world 
and  for  decadent  Europe.  Because  he  was  an  accomplished  critical 
realist,  Rolland  could  not  be  dismissed  as  a  mindless  or  crackpot 
mystic.  In  his  wrilings  he  never  opposed  reason  or  scholarly  and  scien- 
tific investigations.  He  asserted,  on  the  contrary,  that  the  oceanic 
Sensation  could  exist  side  by  side  with  one*s  critical  faculties,  that  the 
oceanic  did  not  give  rise  to  a  world  of  illusibns. 

Rolland  proposed  that  the  oceanic  feeling  was  a  Sensation  of  the 
individuaFs  identity  with  his  surroundings,  of  sublime  connection  to 
objects,  to  one*s  entire  seif,  and  to  the  universe  as  an  indivisible 
whole.  It  ended  the  Separation  of  the  seif  from  the  outside  world  and 
from  others  and  promised  the  individual  participation  in  higher  Spiri- 
tual realms.  It  resisted  traditional  Western  scientific  and  empirical 
explanations,  and  Rolland  attributed  the  Sensation  to  a  primeval  force 
in  all  people.  The  oceanic  was  nothing  less  than  the  divine  inner  core 
of  existence;  it  had  the  quality  of  perpetual  birth.  The  oceanic  feeling 
was  an  idea-force,  a  benign  form  of  energy,  which  could  mediate 
between  man  as  he  was  now  and  man  as  he  could  become.  Since  the 
Sensation  fostered  relatedness  among  individuals,  it  could  potentially 
break  down  the  barriers  of  class,  ethnicity,  nationality,  sexuality, 
culture,  and  generation,  and  could  possibly  lead  to  universal  fraternity 
in  the  distant  future.  For  Rolland  the  oceanic  Sensation  represented  an 
indestmctible  moral  aspect  of  man*s  spiritual  nature.  It  was  nothing 
less  than  the  basis  of  religious  experience:  spontaneous,  innate,  omni- 
present,  the  force  responsible  for  the  individuaPs  amorous  bonds 
with  other  humans  and  the  environment.  The  French  writer  also  feit 
that  the  oceanic  contained  enonnous  imaginative  possibilities;  that  it 

*Lxller  from  Romain  Rolland  lo  Freud.  3  Dec.  1927  in  Romain  Rolland.  Un  beau  visage  a 
lous  sens.  Choix  de  leltres  de  Romain  Rolland  (1886-1944),  Cahiers  Romain  Rolland.  No. 
17  (Paris.  1967).  264-266;  for  an  English  Iranslaiion.  see  Fisher.  "Sigmund  Freud  and 
Romain  Rolland."  20-22. 

256 


Reading  Freuds  Civilizatum  und  tis  Distontents 

provided  the  artist  with  reservoirs  of  inspiration.  instinctive  sources  of 
creativity.  It  was  the  force  that  unified  the  works  of  literature,  music. 
and  humanistic  mysticism.  It  was  a  centering  and  harmonizing  emo- 
tion. Exploration  of  the  oceanic  feeling  could  lead  to  new  forms  of 
self-discovery  and  self-mastery,  to  the  purification  of  ideas,  and  to 
insights  about  the  nonrational  foundations  of  being.  Not  simply  a 
fantasy.  mysticism  was  a  form  of  knowledge  and  Cognition  that  oper- 
ated  through  the  emolions.  If  he  practiced  on  a  daily.  methodical 
basis.  as  in  meditation  or  in  yoga,  the  mystic  could  expand  the  oce- 
anic Sensation  into  another  mode  of  discourse,  a  new  spiritual  disci- 
pline.  another  way  of  reaching  higher  truths. 

Freud's  treatment  of  the  oceanic  Sensation  in  Chapter  1  of  Civiliza- 
tion  and  lis  Disconienis  deserves  carefui  scmtiny.  Freud  was  obvi- 
ously  not  exaggerating  when  he  wrote  to  Rolland  that  "your  letter  of 
December  5,  1927  containing  your  remarks  about  a  feeling  you  de- 
scribe  as  oceanic'  has  left  me  no  peace."*"  There  is  a  combination  of 
praisc  and  slight  blame  in  this  chapter.  a  touch  of  self-conscious 
reserve  toward  Rolland,  and  a  complex  repertoire  of  rhetorical  and 
analytical  strategics."  In  facl,  throughout  this  chapter  Freud  is  unusu- 
ally  evasive  and  tentative. 

He  disarms  the  reader  with  his  humility,  his  modesly,  his  candor, 
and  his  admission  of  personal  limitations.  He  opens  by  mentioning  the 
difficulties  in  treating  a  reputedly  universal  feeling  that  is  absent  in 
himself:  "I  cannot  discover  this  'oceanic*  feeling  in  myself '*  (CMIiza- 
hon,  p.  65)."  With  Understatement,  the  father  of  psychoanalysis  admits 
how  probicmatic  it  is  to  deal  with  emotions:  *'lt  is  not  casy  to  deal 
scientifically  with  feelings"  (p.  65).  He  states  the  inadequacies  of  his 
insights  and  his  method:  "I  have  nothing  to  suggest  that  would  have  a 
decisive  influence  on  the  Solution  of  this  problem"  (p.  65).  Before 
beginning  to  set  up  linguistic  resemblances,  he  wams  the  reader  to 
beware  of  his  analogies:  "This  analogy  may  be  too  rcmotc"  (p.  68).  He 

"toller  from  Freud  lo  Romain  Rolland.  14  July  1929.  in  Leilers  of  Sigmund  Freud,  cd. 
Ems!  L  Freud,  ir  Tania  and  James  Siem  (New  York  i960;  hcrcaficr  ciied  as  Freud 
Leiiers),  388  ii  may  not  t>e  accidenlal  ihal  Freud  wroic  Rolland  on  Baslille  Day,  ihe  mosi 
imixmanl  secular  holiday  for  llie  French.  and  also  ihe  lillc  of  one  of  Rolland's  mosi 
celebraled  plays.  Le  Quatorze  Juillei  (1902). 

"Rol)ert  R.  Holi.  "On  Reading  Freud."  Abstraai  ofihe  Standard  Edition  ofihe  Compleie 
Psychologiial  Works  of  Sigmund  Freud,  cd.  Carrie  Ue  Rolhgeb  (New  York.  1973).  3-73; 
also  see  Roy  Schafer.  Ä  New  Languagefor  Pmhoanaly%is,  (New  Haven.  1976). 

"All  cilalions  are  lo  Sigmund  Freud.  Cixilizaiion  and hs  üisionienis,  Ir.  James  Sirachey. 
vol  21  of  The  Standard  Edition  of  the  Complete  Psychological  Words  of  Sigmund  Freud, 
(t.ondon:  Hoganh  Press.  1961). 


257 


David  Jamüs  Fisiilr 

refers  lo  (he  ubsence  of  research  and  reliable  knowledge  on  the  issue: 
*The  subjecl  has  hardly  been  sludied  as  yel"  (p.  69).  He  brielly  lakes 
on  Rolland's  role,  becomes  ihe  imaginalive  writer.  ihe  lyricist,  Ihe 
man  who  gives  expression  to  (he  ran(as(ic,  (he  un(hinkable,  and  (he 
dreamhke:  *There  is  clearly  no  poin(  in  spinning  our  phan(asy  any 
fuilher,  for  i(  leads  (o  (hings  (ha(  are  uniinaginable  and  even  absurd*' 
(p.  70).  As  his  wrUing  becomes  dialogic.  he  an(icipa(es  (he  reader*s 
cridcism  and  a((emp(s  (o  coun(er  (he  expec(ed  rebu((al:  "Our  a((empl 
seenis  (o  be  an  idie  game,"  "We  bow  (o  (his  objec(ion."  and  *Terhaps 
we  are  going  (00  far  in  (bis"  (p.  71 ).  He  signals  (he  reader  (o  beware  of 
spurious  arguiiien(s:  *To  me  (his  claim  does  no(  seem  conipelhng"  (p. 
72);  and  he  refuses  (o  specula(e  on  (he  unknown  and  perhaps  (he 
unknowable:  "There  may  be  some(hing  fur(her  behind  (ha(.  bu(  for  (he 
momem  i(  is  wrapped  in  obscurity  *  (p.  72).  And  he  s(a(es  his  inabih(y 
(o  analyze  diffuse  emo(ional  cons(ella(ions:  **Le(  me  admi(  once  more 
(ha(  it  is  very  difflcuh  for  me  lo  work  wilh  (hese  almos(  in(angible 
quanli(ies**  (p.  72). 

I(  is  meaningfui  (hat  in  Civilizaiion  and  lis  Discontenis,  Freud*s 
discourse  on  cuUure  begins  and  ends  wi(h  himself.  The  firs(-person 
poini  of  view — *i,"  "me."  "my,"— is  used  six(een  (imes  in  (he  second 
and  (hird  paragraphs.  Conspicuously.  he  concludes  (he  essay  wi(h 
(hir(een  firs(-person  references  in  (he  las(  paragraph  of  Chap(er  8.  By 
opening  and  closing  on  a  personal  no(e,  (he  au(hor  indica(es  his  sub- 
jec(ive  involvemen(  with  (he  ques(ions.  In  such  s(udies,  pseudoscien- 
tific  aloofness  or  value-free  detachmen(  is  inappropria(e. 

In  (he  (ex(,  disciaimers,  qualifica(ions,  unders(a(emen(s.  and  use  of 
the  personal  idiom  mn  coun(er  (o  Freud*s  sweeping  generaliza(ions, 
his  universal  in(erpre(a(ions.  aiid  his  aJ  hominem  argumen(s.  Wi(hin 
the  nrst  chapter,  Freud  reiterates,  bu(  does  no(  prove  or  demons(ra(e, 
the  main  (hesis  of  The  Fulufe  of  an  Illusion.  *The  deriva(ion  of 
religious  needs  from  (he  infan(*s  helplessness  and  (he  longing  for  (he 
fa(her  aroused  by  i(  seem  to  me  incontrovertible"  (p.  72).  A  skillful 
rhe(orician,  Freud  knew  how  (o  use  adjec(ives  for  emphasis.  Yet 
empha(ic  s(a(emen(s  are  no(  substi(u(es  for  sus(ained  argumen(,  well- 
documen(ed  evidence,  and  convincing  proof.  A  nonjudgmen(al  reader, 
working  wi(hou(  a  priori  limi(a(ions  on  wha(  he  is  permi((ed  (o  dis- 
cover,  is  no(  persuaded  (ha(  (he  oceanic  is  by  necessi(y  a  secondary 
manifes(a(ion  of  the  mind. 

Let  me  men(ion  o(her  evasions  and  rhe(orical  s(ra(egies  in  (his 
chap(er.  Freud  deals  wi(h  (he  idea(ional  con(en(  of  (he  oceanic  Sensa- 
tion rather  (han  u^i(h  (he  feeling  i(self  or  wi(h  i(s  physiological  signs 

23H 


Rcading  Freud's  Civiiization  and  iis  üisconienis 

(p.  65).  (Rolland  had  asked  for  an  empirical  inquiry  into  the  feeling, 
and  had  described  the  physiological  transformations  resulting  from 
yoga.)  Freud  paraphrases  but  does  not  quote  Rolland*s  letter  on  the 
oceanic,  compressing  eight  paragraphs  into  one,  even  after  Rolland 
had  twice  granted  his  permission  to  use  the  material  from  their  private 
discussion.  Freud*s  summary,  while  accurate,  does  not  precisely  con- 
vey  the  tone  or  the  substance  of  the  original  document.  The  scientific 
language  Freud  uses  is  different  from  Ihe  metaphorical  and  imagistic 
language  of  Rolland's  letter;  Freud's  Version  corresponds  to  a  free- 
floating  transcription,  an  adaptation  of  vitalistic  ideas  into  a  psycho- 
analytic  vocabulary  and  conceptual  framework.  Freud's  refusal  to 
name  Rolland  as  the  friend  in  the  firsl  chapter  (of  the  Tirsl  edilion) 
also  suggests  some  feeling  of  hostility  toward  Rolland's  views  or 
possibly  toward  Rolland  himself.  The  emphasis  on  Rolland's  humane- 
ness  and  on  Freud's  friendship  for  him  may  mask  unfriendly  feel- 
ings.  Philip  Rieff  has  observed  that  Freud  was  unable  to  separate  men 
from  their  ideas;'^  something  about  Rolland's  crilique  of  psychoanalysis 
and  his  lenacious  defense  of  mysticism  ieft  Freud  unsetlled. 

Moreover,  Freud  does  not  always  use  irony  lo  deflate  pretenlious 
ideas  or  to  disrupt  the  reader' s  received  notions.  In  this  essay  irony 
camouflages  his  personal  limitations,  becomes  a  form  of  self-defense, 
and  occasionally  a  technique  to  mock  opposing  philosophical  or  meth- 
odological  orientations.  The  irony  often  works  against  the  spirit  of 
critical  inquiry,  against  the  authentic  search  for  a  Solution  to  Ihe  prob- 
lem.  I  suggest  that  Rolland's  account  of  the  oceanic  Sensation  caused 
Freud  to  take  refuge  in  a  variety  of  verbal  sublerfuges — jokes,  seif- 
laceration,  cynicism,  and  fmally  a  gracefui  form  of  literary  dismissal. 

In  letters  debating  the  oceanic  Sensation,  Freud  joked  about  Rol- 
land's defense  of  Indian  mysticism:  **I  shall  now  Iry  wilh  your  guid- 
änce  to  penetrate  into  the  Indian  jungle  from  which  until  now  an 
uncertain  blending  of  Hellenic  love  of  proportion,  Jewish  sobriety, 
and  philistine  timidity  have  kept  me  away."'^  The  joke  acknowledges 
Freud's  consciousness  of  his  differences  from  Rolland;  Freud  em- 
ployed  self-mockery  to  reassert  his  individualily,  his  own  wide  cul- 
tural  erudition,  and  his  serious  commitment  to  use  psychoanalysis 
to  understand  nonclinical  materials.  The  ethnocentric  labeis  incon- 
gruously  placed  side  by  side,  Ihe  clever  name-calling  aimed  at  him- 
self, all  suggest  defensiveness  on  Freud's  pari.  Freud  was  unwilling  to 

''Philip  Ricff.  The  Triumph  cf  ihe  Therapeutic:  Uses  cf  Faiih  qfler  Freud  (New  York. 
i960).  80. 


'^l^ller  from  Freud  lo  Romain  Rolland,  19  Jan.  1930.  Freud  Leiters,  392. 


259 


David  James  FisiitR 

muke  his  way  through  his  friend*s  Inüiun  jungle;  perhaps  he  feured  it 
would  be  tcK)  primeval,  too  amorphous  lo  yield  (o  analytical  Interpre- 
tation. His  collision  with  Rolland  in  their  correspondence  reminded 
him  of  his  own  personal  limitations  and  blind  spots.  This  made  him 
reiterate  the  fact  that  psychoanalytic  methods  had  not  illuminated  all 
realms  of  knowledge  and  that  the  science  was  not  an  integrated  world 
Vision. 

One  way  of  dealing  with  the  debate  over  mysticism  was  to  State 
candidly,  as  Freud  did,  ''that  it  is  not  easy  to  pass  beyond  the  limits  of 
one*s  nature.**'^  ''Nature"  implies  his  background,  intellectual  forma- 
tion,  age,  character  structure,  and  theoretical  bent.  Freud,  good  tacti- 
cian  that  he  was,  knew  when  to  call  a  truce  in  a  polemic,  also 
when  to  retreat.  He  gracefully  ends  his  discussion  of  the  oceanic 
feeling  in  Civilizalion  and  lls  Discontents  not  by  moving  into  a  de- 
tailed  analysis  of  parapsychology,  trances  and  ecstasies  but  by  citing 
some  iines  from  Schiller:  ''Let  him  rejoice  who  breathes  up  here  in  the 
roseate  light!*'  (p.  73).  By  implication,  Freud  breathed  better  on  other 
terrains,  feit  uncomfortable  '*above/'  more  at  ease  in  Iower,  or  *infer- 
nai  Regions.**'* 

Employing  maneuvers  of  classical  rhetoric  to  disarm  the  reader, 
admitting  that  his  subject  was  intangible  and  puzzling,  and  warning 
the  reader  to  beware  of  analogies,  metaphors,  and  lyricism,  Freud 
used  all  the  devices  that  he  wamed  against.  Before  Publishing  his 
Interpretation ,  he  wrote  to  Rolland  with  customary  self-deprecation: 
'*But  please  don*t  expect  from  my  small  effort  any  evaluation  of  the 
'oceanic*  feeling.  I  am  experimenting  only  with  an  analytical  diver- 
sion  of  it;  I  am  Clearing  it  out  of  the  way,  so  to  speak.***^ 

Freud  was  nonetheless  able  to  develop  a  compelling  analysis  of  the 
oceanic  Sensation.  He  denied  Rolland*s  hypothesis  that  the  oceanic 
feeling  was  at  the  root  of  religious  beliefs.  In  illustrating  the  genetic 
fallacy,  Freud  showed  that  he  was  nonreductionist  in  wielding  his 
own  theory.  Nodal  points  in  psychological  development  do  not  auto- 
matically  derive  from  the  earliest  stages  of  infancy;  and  the  oceanic, 
while  remote,  is  not  primary  in  the  individuafs  psychosexual  devel- 
opment; nor  is  it  the  foundation  of  his  religious  faith.  For  Freud,  the 
oceanic  Sensation  is  related  to  a  pre-oedipal  period  of  ego  develop- 
ment. The  sublime  feeling  of  fusion  with  the  universe  reflects  Sensa- 


ls 


Ibid. 

i^Freud  ciied  a  passagc  from  Virgil's  Aeneid  für  his  epigraph  lo  The  Interpretation  of 
Dreams:  *if  I  cannul  bend  ihe  Higher  Powers,  /  I  will  move  Ihe  Infernal  Regions." 
''Leiter  from  Freud  lo  Romain  Rolland,  20  July  1929,  Freud  Letters,  389. 

260 


Reading  Freud*s  Civilization  and  ils  Üiscontenh 

tions  of  early  childhood  when  the  Infant  distinguishes  impertectiy  be- 
tween  the  seif  and  the  external  world.  With  the  ego*s  boundaries  with 
the  universe  blurred  or  incorrectiy  drawn,  the  Infant  experlences  an 
indissoluble  bond  with  his  surroundings.  This  feeling  of  the  ego*s 
omnipotence  corresponded  to  the  child*s  merger  with  the  mother,  or 
more  specifically  with  the  mother*s  breast.  Freud  conjectures  that  the 
Infant  experlences  unpleasurable  sensatlons  as  outside  the  seif.  Even- 
tually,  through  experience  the  chlld  Is  forced  to  distinguish  the  Inter- 
nal from  the  external,  the  seif  or  ego  from  that  which  is  outside  the 
seif.  '*Our  present  ego-feeling  is,  therefore,  only  a  shrunken  residue 
of  a  much  more  inclusive — indeed,  an  all-embracing — feeling  which 
corresponded  to  a  more  intimate  bond  between  the  ego  and  the  world 
about  it**(p.  68). 

The  oceanic  refers  to  a  symbiotic  fusion  between  mother  and  Infant; 
it  Is  the  feeling  of  being  harmonlously  unlfied  with  the  mother,  or 
perhaps  the  memory  of  this  experience,  reinforced  by  the  child's 
longing  for  warmth,  closeness,  protection,  and  security.  The  oceanic 
Sensation  recaptures  the  soothing  feeling  of  being  enveloped  by  a 
benevolent  matemal  guardlan,  of  being  caressed,  fed,  warmed,  and 
rocked.  The  infant*s  nondifferentiation  from  his  mother  includes  all  of 
her  pads  and  attributes,  from  her  voice,  gestures,  and  clothlng  to  her 
gaze  and  her  language.  The  infant*s  lack  of  Separation  from  the  out- 
side world  is  related  to  his  feeling  of  being  afloat  in  his  surroundings, 
of  swimming  in  the  waters  of  pleasurable  Stimuli.'* 

Freud  suggested  that  the  oceanic  Sensation  recurred  in  adult  life  as 
a  wishfui  fantasy,  reassuring  the  individual  about  such  disagreeable 
features  of  existence  as  mortallty,  the  harshness  of  everyday  life,  and 
the  compromises  and  accommodations  necessary  for  survival.  Thus 
oceanic  feelings  were  powerfui  forms  of  consolation  for  the  precar- 
iousness  of  human  existence.'*  Freud  also  connected  the  oceanic  to  the 

"Margaret  S.  Mahler.  Fred  Pine.  Anni  Bergman.  Psychological  Birih  ofthe  Human  Itrfam 
(New  York,  1975).  44.  State:  "From  the  second  month  on.  dim  awarene&s  of  ihe  need- 
salisfying  object  marks  ihe  beginning  of  the  phase  of  normal  symbio&is,  in  which  Ihe  infam 
behaves  and  functions  as  though  he  and  his  mother  were  an  omnipotent  System — a  dual 
unily  within  one  common  boundary  This  is  perhaps  what  Freud  and  Romain  Rolland 
discussed  in  their  dialogue  as  Ihe  sense  of  boundlessness  of  the  oceanic  feeling." 

'*Erik  H.  Erikson.  "The  Life  Cycle:  Epigenesis  of  identiiy."  Identity,  Youth.  and  Crisis 
(New  York.  1968).  102-103.  lo^  PostFreudian  etiologicaj  crilicism  avoids  reduclionism 
by  seeing  the  oceanic  feeling  as  more  than  an  infantile  experience;  ego  psychologists  argue 
Ihat  the  Sensation  can  also  generale  hope  and  tnist  in  the  future.  The  experience  may 
cncourage  an  adolescent  or  adult  to  pcrsevere  in  adverse  circumstances.  lo  stniggle  as- 
siduously  lo  bring  his  efforls  to  fniilion.  Erik  Erikson  links  faith  lo  the  development  of  trust, 
which  Sterns  from  the  "altainability  of  primal  wishes,'*  and  he  incisively  suggesis  Ihat  Ihese 
wishes  are  aitained  in  the  child's  earliest  Imst  in  his  mother. 

261 


David  James  Fisiiir 

process  of  introjechon,  ihe  abilily  to  incorporale  dungemus  or  feartul 
aspects  of  realily,  which  was  likewise  coinlorting  because  absorplion 
countereJ  Che  given  menace.  In  Civilizaiion  andits  Discontents,  Freud 
associates  Che  oceanic  feeling  wilh  masochislic  drives,  more  specifi- 
cally  with  the  defense  against  self-destructive  rage  or  self-mutilialing 
Impulses.  Narcissistic  rage  and  self-devaluation  can  frequently  take 
the  form  of  suicidal  feehngs.  As  if  to  balance  Rolland*s  cosmic  pro- 
pensities,  his  urge  toward  flight  and  Iranscendence,  Freud  ciles  a 
hierary  source,  Christian  Dietrich  Grabbe,  to  remind  his  readers  that 
escape  from  conflict  in  suicide  is  not  a  viable  Option:  "'We  cannot  fall 
out  of  this  World*"  (p.  65). 

In  the  Hnal  analysis  Freud  viewed  the  cKeanic  Sensation  as  largely  a 
regression  to  a  childlike  State  in  which  the  individual  had  no  concep- 
tion  of  himself  as  differentiated  from  objects  or  from  the  environment, 
and  in  which  he  experienced  an  ecstatic  feeling  of  well-being.  It  was 
related  to  the  narcissistic  function  of  the  ego  whereby  the  seif  could 
be  extended  to  embrace  all  of  the  world  and  humanity;  thus  it  was,  as 
Freud  put  it,  the  seif  enlarged  to  "limitless  narcissism"  (p.  72).  Ulti- 
mately,  he  rejected  mystical  and  Idealist  positions,  seeing  them  as  ir- 
rational retreats  from  extemal  reality;  they  might  endanger  the  ego's 
capacity  to  respond  to  internal  assaults  from  unconscious  impulses 
and  to  threats  and  obstacles  encountered  by  the  individual  in  social 
life.  From  the  point  of  view  of  Freud*s  psychology  and  his  value 
System,  mysticism  was  a  mystiHcation.  He  wrote  to  Rolland: 

We  seem  to  diverge  ralher  far  in  the  role  we  assign  to  intuition.  Your 
mystics  rely  on  it  to  leach  them  how  lo  solve  the  riddle  of  the  universe; 
we  believe  that  it  cannot  reveal  lo  us  anylhing  bul  primitive,  instinctual 
impulses  and  attitudes — highly  valuable  for  an  embryology  of  ihe  soul 
when  correctiy  inlerpreted,  bul  worthless  for  orienlalion  in  Ihe  allen, 
extcrnal  world.'*' 

Notwithstanding  this  dialectically  complex  analysis  of  the  oceanic, 
Freud,  in  the  first  chapter  of  Civilizaiion  und  hs  üisconienis,  deploys 
his  repertoire  of  rhetorical  and  critical  skills  to  elude  the  oceanic 
Sensation.  Just  as  he  is  speculative  and  open-ended  in  his  theorizing, 
so.  too,  is  he  mobile  and  inconclusive  in  his  suggestions  for  further 
research.  Emphatically  stated  and  firmly  grounded  psychoanalytic 
ideas  coexist  with  more  fragmentary  and  problematic  interpretations. 
The  result  Is  multiple  significances  atlached  to  the  oceanic,  not  one 

^'t^ller  frum  Freud  lo  Romain  Rolland.  19  Jan.  1930,  h'reuJ  Leiters,  393. 
262 


Reading  Freud's  Civilizaiion  and  !is  üisconienis 

final  Solution.  These  fragmentary  interpretations.  In  the  form  of  wan- 
dering  associutions,  Ironie  and  pictorial  Juxtapositions,  inversions  and 
role  reversals,  and  a  dissemination  of  analogies,  show  us  Freud's 
mind  at  work  on  a  particularly  baffling  issue.  Freud  blends  Iheoretical 
speculation  and  other  rhetorical  maneuvers  in  Civilizaiion  and  lls 
Discontenis\  I  attribute  this  blend  partially  lo  Ihe  speed  with  which  the 
work  was  written.  Freud  completed  the  Tirsl  drafi  of  il  in  one  monlh 
without  having  access  to  a  library;  at  seventy-lhree,  he  wrote  easily, 
fluenlly,  densely,  and  wilh  remarkable  versalility.  His  competence  as 
a  Problem  solver  was  intacl.^'  The  very  speed  of  ihe  composilion  under- 
scores  his  adherence  lo  the  psychoanalytic  ruie:  Ihe  wriler,  like  the 
patient,  is  willlng  to  say  without  censorship  and  resiriciion  whalever 
comes  to  mind.  In  shorl,  I  see  Ihis  work  as  autobiographlcal,  and  as 
one  in  which  Freud  constanlly  employs  the  device  of  free  associalion. 

To  illustraie  how  Ihe  mind  is  siruclured  and  to  show  how  pasi 
memories  are  preserved  in  mental  life,  Freud  ingeniously  borrowed 
an  analogy  from  anolher  field,  archaeology.  The  psychoanalytic  ap- 
proach  to  culture  is  akin  lo  Ihe  excavalion  of  ancienl  siles  where 
iayers  of  buried  materlal  and  ruins  are  oflen  preserved  nexl  lo  more 
modern  and  restored  parts  of  a  cily.  It  is  noi  accidenlal  that  Freud 
selecis  Rome  as  his  exemplary  ancienl  cily.  Rolland*s  firsl  name  was 
Romain,  which  is  French  for  Roman.  To  follow  Ihe  intemal  logic  of 
Freud's  associations  lo  Rolland,  we  should  remember  Ihal  roman  is 
Ihe  French  word  for  novel,  romance,  riction,  and  romanesque;  more- 
over  Rolland  had  written  Iwo  roman-fleuves  (Jean-Christophe  and 
Uäme  enchanlie),  which  in  French  is  a  novel  saga,  a  novel  con- 
siructed  like  a  river,  which  flows  into  Ihe  sea.  Freud  may  have  been 
reminded  of  Ihe  Etemal  City  by  Ihe  putative  etemal  qualily  of  the 
oceanic  feeling.  He  may  also  have  known  Ihal  Rolland  spenl  a  **Roman 
Spring"  in  Ihe  Etemal  Cily  from  1889  to  1891,''  doing  wprk  in  Ihe 
Vatican  Archives  for  his  doctoral  dissertalion  on  Ihe  hislory  of  Ihe 
opera." 

Freud's  Rome  analogy  has  a  Iriparlite  siruclure:  it  begins  as  a 
historical  discourse,  glides  into  archaeology,  and  concludes  wilh  a 

"Emesi  Jones.  The  Life  and  Work  of  Sigmund  Freud:  Tke  Last  Phase  1919-1939  (New' 
York.  1957).  14«.  339-342,  345-348 

"Romain  Rolland.  Hriniemps  Romain.  Choix  de  leiires  de  Romain  Rolland  ä  sa  mire 
(188^1890),  Cahiers  Romain  Rolland.  No.  6  (Paris.  1954);  Romain  Rolland.  Reiour  au 
Palais  Farnise.  Choix  de  lettre s  de  Romain  Rolland  ä  sa  mire  (1890-1891),  Cahiers 
Romain  Rolland,  No.  8  (Paris.  1956). 

'*Romain  Rolland.  Les  origines  du  ihiätre  lyrique  moderne.  Hisloire  de  l'opira  avant 
Lully  et  Scarlatti  (Paris.  1895). 

263 


David  James  Fisiikr  ' 

biological  comparison.  All  three  analogies  are  fragmenlary,  tentative, 
and  discontinuous;  the  Iransitions  are  not  readily  apparent  or  logical. 
They  are  linked  to  Rolland  by  Freud*s  free  association,  and  by  his 
assuming  ihe  public  and  professional  roles  of  (he  French  writer. 

First,  Freud  reveals  his  competence  and  chann  as  a  historian,  mix- 
ing  vignettes  with  bits  of  erudition  aboul  ancient  and  contemporary 
Rome.  Rolland  had  been  trained  as  a  historian  at  the  University  of 
Paris.  Here  Freud  temporarily  displaces  him  as  an  archaeological  his- 
torian. The  positive  pole  of  Freud's  ambivalence  toward  Rolland  cor- 
responded  to  his  exceptional  fondness  for  Rome.'^  The  verbs,  **ad- 
mire,"  **grace/*  and  **bequeathed,*'  reveal  Freud*s  affection  for  the  city 
(pp.  69-71). 

Second,  Freud  shows  how  identified  he  is  with  Rolland*s  pursuits 
by  usurping  Rolland's  vocation  as  a  writer.  The  Rome  analogy  is 
written  in  exquisite  and  lyrical  prose.  We  should  remember  that  Freud*s 
literary  and  stylistic  genius  was  recognized  in  his  lifetime;  he  was 
awarded  the  Goethe  Prize  for  Literature  in  1930.  On  two  occasions  in 
Chapter  i  of  Civilization  and  lls  Discontents,  he  interrupts  his  scien- 
tific narrative  with  these  artistic  digressions:  **Now  let  us,  by  a  flight 
of  Imagination,  suppose  that  Rome  is  not  a  human  habitation,  but  a 
physical  entity'*  (p.  70).  And,  **There  is  cleariy  no  point  in  spinning 
out  our  phantasy  any  further**  (p.  70). 

After  anthropomorphizing  ancient  Rome,  Freud  suddenly  abandons 
his  historical  and  archaeological  analogies  as  inappropriate  and  in- 
troduces  an  embryological  one.  His  point  is  to  show  that  the  different 
stages  of  mental  development  are  preserved,  absorbed,  or  effaced  in 
mature  mental  structures;  or,  put  more  cauliously.  are  **not  necessarily 
destroyed*'  (p.  71),  despite  the  exigencies  of  the  life  cycle  and  the 
processes  of  amnesia.  Yet,  here  too,  Freud  is  frustrated.  He  knows 
that  his  analogy  is  weak  and  imprecise.  Once  again  he  stops  trying  to 
conceptualize  the  mind  in  spatial  or  pictorial  terms. 

Why  did  Freud  try  out  and  then  relinquish  the  biological  analogy? 
One  reason  may  be  his  association  of  Rolland  with  pictorial  or  natu- 
ralistic  forms  of  representation.  Rolland  had  written  several  books  on 
painters,  including  a  well-known  biographical  study  of  Michelangelo. 
Many  of  Michelangelo*s  most  sublime  creations  are,  of  course,  housed 
in  Rome.  Freud  admired  Michelangelo*s  work  and  wrote  an  essay  on 
his  Moses. ^  In  their  letters,  Freud  once  referred  to  Rolland's  mystical 

'^Sce  Cirl  E.  Schorske.  **Püliiics  and  Pairicitlc  in  Freud's  Interpretation  of  Dreants." 
Fin-de-SUcle  Vienna:  Poiitics  anä  Culture  (New  York.  1980).  189-193,  199.  202-203. 

'^Romain  Rolland.  La  vie  de  MichelÄnge  (1906)  (Paris  1964);  Sigmund  Freud.  'The 
Moses  of  Michelangelo."  (1914).  Standard  Edition  0/ the  Complete  Psychological  Works  of 
Sigmund  Freud,  ed.  James  Sirachey,  (l>ondon,  1953).  211-238. 

264 


Reading  Freud's  Civiiizalion  and  lls  Disionienis 

knowledge  as  ''highly  valuable  for  an  embryology  of  the  soul  when 
correctiy  interpreted."'**  His  own  approach  to  embryology  tended  to  be 
traditionally  scientific,  empirical,  and  ontogenetic.  Yet  Freud  was 
also  quite  conscious  of  the  finite  parameters  of  pictorial  forms  of 
representation.  The  psychoanalyst,  in  short,  conceives  of  the  mind 
with  a  knowledge  of  the  limitations  both  of  writing  and  of  nonverbal 
forms  of  representation. 

The  first  chapter  of  Civiiizalion  and  lls  Disconienis  effectively 
shows  how  inconclusive  analogies  are,  even  the  most  ingenious.  The 
Roman  associations  Rolland's  oceanic  Sensation  Iriggered  in  Freud  in 
tum  gave  rise  to  three  abortive  analogies  and  assorted  discontinuous 
attempts  to  represent  his  concepts  historically,  archaeologically,  imag- 
inatively,  and  pictorially.  All  partially  failed.  Moreover,  the  back  and 
forth  movement,  the  offering  and  relinquishing  of  the  analogies,  dis- 
rupts  the  narrative  and  theoretical  flow  of  Freud's  own  discourse, 
muting  the  definitive  impact  of  the  oceanic  discussion.  Freud  both 
recognized  and  gave  expression  to  the  difficulties  involved  in  convey- 
ing  psychoanalytic  insights  about  the  layers  of  the  mind.  This  problem 
was  particularly  acute  in  describing  overiapping  layers  of  the  mental 
apparatus  where  old  and  new  cohabit,  where  fragments  and  conden- 
sations  and  displacements  often  become  the  only  evidence  of  earlier 
content  and  structures.  Freud's  own  language  here  i$  remarkably  mo- 
bile and  shifting.  His  form  of  expression  seems  to  refiect  the  form  and 
content  of  his  material,  which  is  fiuctuating,  overdetermined,  erratic, 
and  cannot  be  pinned  down  with  one  comprehensive  picture  or  one 
overarching  theoretical  model. 


Various  disguised  allusions  to  the  question  of  the  oceanic  Sensation 
pervade  the  text.  In  Chapter  8,  Freud  rejected  the  Judeo-Christian 
commandment  *'Love  thy  neighbor  as  thyself»"  as  an  unrealistic  in- 
junction,  which  is  not  only  nearly  impossible  to  fulfiU,  but  once  ful- 
filled,  caused  more  injury  and  stress  than  the  aggressiveness  against 
which  it  is  a  defense.  Freud  perceived  Rolland  to  be  an  advocate  of 
universal  love:  ^'Because  for  us  your  name  has  been  associated  with 
the  most  precious  of  beautifui  illusions,  that  of  love  extended  to 
all  mankind."'^  We  also  know  that  Freud  read  Rolland's  biography 
of  Gandhi,  in  which  the  French  writer  updated  and  popularized  the 
Tolstoyan  (and  Kantian  and  Christian)  notion  of  neighboHy  love,  in 
addition  to  linking  it  to  the  political  philosophy  of  nonviolent  re- 


^Lxller  from  Freud  lo  Romain  Rolland.  19  Jan.  1930.  Freud  Letten,  393. 
''Leiter  from  Freud  lo  Romain  Rolland,  4  March  1923,  Freud  Leiters,  341 


263 


David  Jamis  PisiitK 

sisCance.  "Muhatma  Gandhi,'*  Freud  wroie  to  his  triend,  "will  accom- 
pany  ine  on  my  vacalion  which  will  begin  shortly.*'" 

In  debunking  (he  imperative  to  love  one's  neighbor  uncritically, 
Freud  is  directly  replying  to  Rolland's  world  vision.  The  command- 
ment,  in  his  view,  contains  a  self-serving  component,  for  its  only 
practical  value  is  to  reinforce  the  ethical  person*s  sense  of  seif- 
righteoüsness.  "'Natural*  ethics.  as  it  is  calied,  has  nothing  to  ofler 
here  except  the  narcissistic  satisfaction  of  being  able  to  think  oneself 
better  than  others"  (Civilizaüon,  p.  143).  PsychcxJynamically,  the  good 
conscience  of  the  Christian  stems  froin  bad  failh.  The  precept  of 
universal  love  presupposes  a  neglect,  or  a  glossing  over,  of  distinc- 
tions  between  the  ego  and  the  real  world  (p.  102). 

From  a  psychoanalytic  view,  Freud  objected  to  the  notion  of  uni- 
versal love  on  practical  as  well  as  on  theorelical  grounds.  Nondiscrim- 
inating  love  offered  to  humanity  is  egalitariun  and  nonreflective,  dis- 
regarding  differences  in  the  behavior  of  human  beings.  Love  extended 
to  humanity  in  general  tends  to  devalue  the  love  directed  toward  the 
particular  individual.  This  is  an  obvious  injustice  to  the  one  who  is 
loved  (p.  102).  Freud  also  held  that  niost  people  were  unworthy  of 
love,  that  it  was  foolish  to  love  those  who  were  power-hungry  or 
ambitious  for  success,  or  who  sought  material  wealth  with  no  authen- 
tic  desire  to  serve  others.  Love  and  friendship  ought  to  be  reserved  for 
the  deserving,  for  those  who  can  reciprocate,  and  not  wasted  on  the 
multitudes  of  people  who  are  hostile,  malicious,  and  impotent,  and 
who  crave  domination  over  others.  It  is  in  this  context  that  Freud 
asserts  that  people  are  wolves,  not  gentle  creatures;  most  people,  he 
observes,  are  unlovely  and  unlovable  (pp.  102,  109-111).  Further- 
more,  Freud  posits  that  the  idea  of  universal  love  is  rooted  in  nar- 
cissism — that  people  are  thus  motivated  to  seek  out  and  love  idealized 
aspects  of  themselves  in  others,  that  sharing  common  values,  common 
interests,  and  a  common  cultural  orientation  also  can  be  traced  back  in 
part  to  a  deep  need  to  love  a  mirror  of  oneself  (pp.  84,  1 18). 

In  Chapter  5  of  Civilizalion  and  Its  Discontents  Freud  shows  that 
the  Judeo-Christian  (and  Rollandist)  precept  ''Love  thy  neighbor"  is 
an  extension  of  the  feeling  of  oneness  with  the  universe,  of  the  non- 
disceming  feeling  connected  with  an  amorphous  love  of  humanity. 
The  oceanic  Sensation  and  Christian  moral  injunctions  ultimately  stem 
from  the  same  psychical  source.  To  deflate  these  absolutist  moralistic 
ideals,  Freud  used  unusual  images: 

'*l>eller  from  Freud  lo  Romain  Rolland.  15  June  1924.  cited  in  Fisher.  "Sigmund  Freud 
and  Romain  Rolland."  10. 

266 


Reading  Freud's  Civilizalion  and  Its  Discontents 

But  if  I  am  to  love  him  (with  this  universal  love)  mcrely  t>ecause  he, 
too,  is  an  inhabitant  of  this  earth,  like  an  insect.  an  eanh-womi  or  a 
grass-snake,  then  I  fear  that  only  a  small  modicum  of  my  love  will  fall 
to  his  share— not  by  any  possibility  as  much  as,  by  the  judgment  of  my 
rcason,  I  am  entitied  to  retain  for  myscif.  What  is  the  point  of  a  precept 
enunciated  wiih  so  much  solemnity  if  its  fulfillment  cannot  be  recom- 
mended  as  reasonable?  |P.  iio| 


He  States  rhetorically  that  realization  of  the  precept  is  palpably  absurd, 
and  he  jokes  about  the  commandment  to  drain  away  its  pretentious- 
ness.  Finally,  he  cites  a  hilarious  tale  by  Heinrich  Heine  about  loving 
one's  neighbors  only  after  they  have  been  murdered:  *"One  must,  it  is 
true,  forgive  one's  neighbors— but  not  before  they  have  been  hanged**' 
(p.  110  n.  I).  Freud  is  casting  Heine's  modemistic,  ironic  parable 
against  Rolland*s  idealism.  He  is  also  illustrating  how  literary  Per- 
formances can  give  expression  to,  can  legitimize  with  humor,  forbid- 
den  sadistic  wishes. 

As  a  diagnostician  of  civilizational  malaise,  Freud  searched  for 
hidden  phenomena  in  cultural  and  ideological  modes  of  expression. 
He  pointed  out  how  manifestations  of  love  and  forebearance  often 
disguised  feelings  of  deep  intolerance.  He  recalied,  for  instance,  how 
the  love  preached  by  organized  Christianity  was  often  offsei  by  the 
disastrous  history  of  Christian  persecutions,  massacres,  and  hostility 
toward  non-Chrislians  (p.  1 14).  I  would  like  to  extend  the  Freudian 
interpretation  of  the  oceanic  Sensation  by  arguing  that  the  feeling 
which  is  described  as  the  deep  source  of  religion  and  of  human  re- 
latedness  on  a  grand  scale  is  actually  a  reaction-formation.  That  is  to 
say,  the  limitless  narcissism  of  the  oceanic  conceals  or  counters  a 
feeling  of  universal  hatred  for  humanity. 

1  think  that  individuals  who  prociaim  love  for  humanity  secretly 
have  powerful  feelings  of  aggression  and  conlempt  for  humanity,  that 
feelings  of  etemity  actively  spring  from  unbounded  feelings  of  le- 
pressed  rage,  of  unsatisfled  oral  cravings.  Rolland's  oceanicism  con- 
ceals a  strong  sadistic  impulse,  a  monumental  fury  against  humanity, 
a  drive  to  destroy  civilization.  The  openly  proclaimed  affection 
for  and  overidealization  of  humanity  hides  a  devaluation  of  it.  The 
oceanic  Sensation  comforted  Rolland  by  wiping  out  his  recurring  feel- 
ings of  despair  and  loss  of  direction;  monumental  feelings  of  connec- 
tion  opposed  his  feelings  of  unconnectedness.  The  reactions  took  the 
form  of  feelings  of  omnipotence,  grandiosity,  optimism,  and  the  pat- 
tem  of  attaching  himself  to  strong,  admired  father  figures  to  reeslab- 

267 


David  James  Fisiibr 

lish  his  self-esteem.  The  philosophical  ideal  ist  may  incorporule  gran- 
diose objects  as  a  defense  against  infantile  feelings  ot  anxiety,  shame, 
guilt,  and  lack  of  self-worth.  The  person  who  feels  universal  love  may 
paradoxically  be  the  one  with  the  harshest  and  most  primitive  super- 
ego.  To  defend  himself  against  his  own  self-punishing  conscience, 
Rolland  emerged  as  a  public  man  of  virlue,  self-sacrifice,  and  pen- 
ance.  Thus  the  narcissism  associated  with  the  oceanic  Sensation  does 
not  fundamentally  spring  from  self-love  or  self-admiration;  it  may 
embody  an  elaborate  defense  against  aggressive  impulses. 

For  Rolland  then,  and  by  implication  for  all  humanistic  mystics, 
total  love  of  humanity  may  be  unconsciously  fused  with  the  impulse 
to  annihilate  humanity  totally.  This  fusion  of  opposites  generated 
powerfiil  tensions  in  his  art,  his  cultural  criticism,  and  his  engagement 
with  contemporary  society.  Psychoanalysis  can  lay  bare  the  psychical 
roots  of  metaphorical  and  idealist  modes  of  expression,  such  as 
oceanic  feelings.  It  shows  how  these  apparently  benign  attitudes  are 
diametrically  opposed  to  repressed  wishes,  how  these  attitudes  be- 
come  constituted  as  reactions  to  these  impulses.  Under  the  cloak  of 
universal  pity,  compassion,  virtue»  and  humane  contact,  the  oceanic 
Sensation  may  function  to  counter  sadistic  and  immoral  impulses, 
wishes  that  are  incompatible  with  conscious  and  civilized  outlooks. 

In  consequence  of  Ihis  primaiy  mulual  hoslility  of  human  beings,  civi- 
lized society  is  perpetually  threatened  with  disintegration.  The  interest 
of  work  in  common  would  not  hold  it  together;  instinctual  passions  are 
stronger  than  reasonable  interests.  Civilizalion  has  to  use  its  utmost 
efforts  in  order  to  sei  limits  to  man*s  aggressive  instincts  and  to  hold  the 
manifestations  of  them  in  check  by  psychical  reaction-formations  .  .  . 
hence  too  the  ideal  commandment  to  love  one*s  neighbor — a  command- 
ment  which  is  really  justified  by  the  fact  that  nothing  eise  mns  so 
strongly  counter  to  the  original  nature  of  man.  In  spite  of  every  effort, 
these  endeavors  of  civilizalion  have  not  so  far  achieved  very  much.  |P. 

Ii2| 

From  an  examination  of  their  correspondence,  a  discourse  analysis 
of  Civilizalion  and  Its  Disconienis,  and  an  interpretation  of  Freud*s 
1936  paper  ''A  Disturbance  of  Memory  on  the  Acropolis:  An  Open 
Letter  to  Romain  Rolland  on  the  Occasion  of  His  Seventieth  Birthday,** 
I  have  concluded  that  Freud  viewed  Rolland  as  one  of  the  special  few, 
marked  off  from  the  masses  by  his  sensibility  and  his  gifts.  Freud 
considered  him  a  man  of  encyclopedic  knowledge  and  wisdom»  who 
had  a  powerfui  commitment  to  research  and  leaming.  Moreover,  Rol- 

268 


Reading  Freud *s  Civilizalion  and  lls  Disconlenis 

land  posed  tough  and  significant  questions;  he  knew  what  questions 
really  mattered.  Rolland  represented  those  men  who  did  the  work  of 
civilizalion,  who  knew  how  to  discipline  their  imaginations,  who 
worked  steadily,  who  led  a  regulär  life,  who  kept  visitors  and  diver- 
sions  away,  and  who  appreciated  the  psychological  necessity  of  intel- 
lectual  work. 

Rolland  was  Freud*s  unnamed  friend  in  the  Tirst  edition  of  Civiliza- 
lion and  lls  Disconlenis  who  saw  a  gap  in  the  psychoanalytic  explana- 
tion  of  religion,  a  gap  which  perplexed  Freud  enough  to  rethink  his 
previous  position.  In  his  life  and  work  Rolland  refused  to  be  paro- 
chial,  self-serving  or  narrow-minded.  He  was  an  exceptional  man, 
whose  sincerity  and  tolerance  never  interfered  with  his  courageous 
articulation  of  dissenting  opinions  (he  took  public  stances  in  favor  of 
the  doctrines  of  paciflsm,  Gandhism,  and  antifascism,  and  was  known 
to  be  sympathetic  to  communism).  In  the  Tirst  paragraph  of  Civiliza- 
lion and  lls  Disconlenis,  Freud  refers  to  Rolland  in  glowing  terms  as 
someone  who  does  not  use  false  Standards  of  measurement,  who  does 
not  seek  power,  success,  or  wealth  for  himself  or  admire  Ihem  in 
others.  The  tendemess  of  this  description  underlines  Freud *s  esteem 
for  the  French  writer,  whom  he  viewed  as  an  exemplary  figure.  The 
reverential  tone  and  substance  of  Civilizalion  and  lls  Disconlenis  is 
congruent  with  the  opening  paragraph  of  **A  Disturbance  of  Memory 
on  the  Acropolis."^ 

For  Freud,  Rolland  had  evoked  into  more  than  a  famous  man  of 
letters.  He  had  become  a  contemporary  idealist  and  prophet,  in  short  a 
writer  with  a  priestly  world  view.  Conceiving  of  his  role  and  mission 
with  arch-seriousness,  Rolland  offered  Inspiration  and  consolation  to 
his  countless  readers,  presenting  them  with  strong  culture  heroes 
(Michelangelo,  Beethoven,  Jean-Chrisiophe,  Gandhi)  upon  whom 
they  could  attach  themselves.  Rolland  had  moved  beyond  the  confines 
of  being  novelist,  critic,  and  historian  to  make  universalist  pronounce- 
ments  to  his  audience,  to  speak  on  all  issues  in  the  name  of  higher 
wisdom.  He  conceived  of  the  writer  in  a  sacerdotal  manner,  as  if  he 
had  a  divine  authority  and  a  highly  moral  agenda. 

However,  Freud  *s  veneration  for  Rolland  Covers  a  repressed  ten- 
dency  to  compete  with  and  devalue  his  friend.  As  early  as  the  first 
paragraph  of  Civilizalion  and  lls  Disconlenis,  Freud  qualiHes  his  ad- 
miration  for  Rolland  with  sentences  which  soften,  check,  and  self- 
criticize  (p.  64).  The  füll  nature  of  Freud*s  ambivalence  toward  Rol- 


'*Ficud.  **A  Disturbiifice  of  Memory  on  ihe  Acropolis,**  339. 


269 


David  Jamls  Kisiiik 

land  is  revealed  in  Che  ihird  paragraph:  "l'he  views  expressed  by  Che 
Iriend  who  I  so  inuch  honor,  and  who  hiniseU  once  praised  ihe  magic 
üf  illusion  in  a  pDcm"  (pp.  64-65).  To  praise  illusion  is  (anlamount  lo 
defending  self-deception.  In  a  lelter  lo  Rolland.  Freud  wrole:  "A  greal 
pari  ot  my  life*s  work  (I  am  len  years  older  ihan  you)  has  been  spenl 
llrying  lo)  deslroy  illusions  of  my  own  and  ihose  of  mankind.***"  Age. 
experience.  malurily,  world-weariness,  and  psychoanalylic  insighls  all 
encouraged  Freud  to  be  wary  of  ihe  bad  failh  and  blind  alleys  con- 
necled  wiih  wishfui  (hinking. 

(3n  ihe  lasl  page  or  ihe  essay,  Freud  announces  his  firm  refusal  to 
play  ihe  role  of  prophel.  sage,  revolulionary  or  religious  leader  (Civil- 
izaiion,  p.  145).  In  brief.  he  rejecls  the  füll  speclrum  of  Rolland*s 
public  roles.  All  he  can  be  is  whal  he  is:  an  imparlial  man  of  science, 
a  iheory-builder,  committed  lo  the  search  for  and  ihe  expression  of  the 
irulh.  Freud  saw  himself  as  a  demyslifier  of  magical  and  metaphysical 
explanations  aboul  man  and  his  relalionship  lo  Ihe  world.  In  conlrasl 
lo  Rolland,  he  refused  lo  offer  his  audience  consolation  or  easily 
digested  images  of  ihemselves.  In  Opposition  to  Rolland*s  lendency  lo 
sacralize  the  inlellectual,  Freud  assumed  Ihe  iherapeutic  slance  of 
desacralization.  The  psychoanalylic  critic  of  culture,  he  teils  us  ex- 
plicilly,  offers  interprelations,  not  Tixed  meanings.  This  is  a  responsi- 
ble  posture,  for  inlerprelalions  can  be  modified,  revised,  and  reas- 
sessed,  while  grandiose  Claims  of  omnipotence  persuade  by  their 
appeal  to  our  need  for  failh,  hope,  grandeur,  and  happiness.  Ralher 
ihan  beslow  upon  his  readers  a  lofty  syslem  of  moral  leachings,  linked 
lo  a  iranscendenl  realm,  Freud  presents  them  wilh  a  critical  melhod  of 
inquiry,  and  wilh  a  model  which  demands  thal  they  proceed  wilh  iheir 
inquiry  in  a  nonjudgmental,  analylically  neutral,  delached,  and  em- 
palhic  manner. 

In  all  of  Freud*s  writings  to  or  aboul  Rolland,  ihere  is  a  pronounced 
lension,  a  wavering  belween  affeclion  and  genuine  esteem  on  the  one 
band,  and  slrain,  envy.  and  bitlemess  on  Ihe  other.  This  lension 
stemmed  from  Freud*s  oscillation  belween  uncanny  feelings  of  famil- 
iarity  wilh  Rolland  and  his  sense  of  unalterable  Separation  from  him. 
On  an  unconscious  level,  Rolland  may  have  represented  a  rival,  a 
ten-year-younger,  gifted  sibling,  a  conlentious  but  private  Opponent  of 
psychoanalylic  theory  and  practice,  an  object  of  competilion,  envy, 
and  hoslilily — someone,  in  brief,  to  be  replaced,  argued  wilh,  or  to  be 
cleared  out  of  the  way. 

Rolland  was  Freud*s  Double.  Freud  feit  a  kinship  wilh  Rolland  for 
his  capacilies  as  a  realistic  wriler,  as  a  novelist  and  playwrighl  wilh 

270 


Reading  Freud*s  Civilizaiion  anä  lls  Disconienis 

psychological  probity;  he  identified  wilh  the  French  writer's  ability  to 
penetrate  benealh  social  Conventions.  Freud  feit  altracted  lo  artists 
who  handied  language  deflly  and  who  playfully  tapped  the  Imagina- 
tion. Rolland  had  provided  his  readers  wilh  moments  of  pleasure, 
comfort,  and  exaltation.  He  was  an  artisl  wilh  a  vast  public,  wilh 
enormous  contemporary  resonance;  thal  is,  he  was  a  maker  of  high 
culture  who  spoke  a  language  accessible  to  the  masses. 

Rolland*s  capacily  lo  communicate  with  and  move  the  masses  was 
highly  problemalic  in  Freud*s  eyes,  however,  especially  given  Freud*s 
view  of  the  mass  public  as  uncrilical,  lazy,  careless,  unreliable,  easily 
deflected  by  the  pleasure  principle,  easily  manipulated  by  inloxicating 
substances  and  religious  sedatives  and  narcotics.  Moreover,  Rolland*s 
ability  lo  mediale  belween  high  and  populär  culture  reminded  Freud 
of  his  own  isolation,  unpopularity,  and  vulnerabilities.  Freud,  the 
scienliflc  investigalor,  had  reached  his  insighls  only  after  long  and 
laborious  efforl,  after  detours  and  a  lifetime  of  investigalions.  As 
founder  of  psychoanalysis,  he  had  given  expression  to  disturbing  and 
unwanted  Imlhs  aboul  the  human  mind.  Humanily  had  often  repaid  him 
for  his  labors  by  trealing  him  unkindly  or  by  lotaily  ignoring  him.^ 

Whal  I  am  suggesling  here  is  thal  Freud  tended  lo  make  invidious 
comparisons  belween  Rolland  and  himself,  thal  he  tended  lo  overes- 
timate  Rolland*s  popularily,  and  thal  he  subtiy  made  a  distinction 
belween  varieties  of  Sublimation.  As  ihe  Other,  Rolland  had  gifls  that 
Freud  lacked.  If  we  examine  the  ambivalence  of  this  relationship,  we 
can  infer  thal  Freud  valued  scientific  Sublimation  as  more  reliable  and 
more  prudenl  Ihan  the  Substitute  salisfactions  of  the  artist.  Despile  his 
sensitivily  lo  lilerary,  plastic,  and  representalional  forms  of  artistic 
expression,  Freud  was  disturbed  by,  and  dislmstful  of,  artistic  cre- 
ations  that  had  their  origin  in  the  realm  of  the  id.'* 

To  be  sure,  Freud's  admiration  for  Rolland  as  a  cieative  writer, 
humanitarian,  pacifisl,  and  concilialor  of  mankind  exisled  side  by  side 
with  envy  and  distrust  of  him.  Whal  is  atlractive  in  Rolland  is  high- 
lighted  by  Freud*s  perceplion  of  their  dissimilarities:  "I  may  confess 
lo  you  that  I  have  rarely  experienced  that  myslerious  attraction  of  one 
human  being  for  anoiher  as  vividly  as  I  have  with  you;  it  is  somehow 

^tcllcr  from  Freud  lo  Romain  Rolland,  4  March  1923.  Freud  Leuen,  341. 

"Lohn  Anderson.  "Freud.  NicUschc.'*  Salmagunäi,  No.  47-48  (Winler-Spring  1980), 
3-29;  Fran^oise  L.  Simon-Miller.  "Ambivalence  and  Ideniificalion:  Freud  on  Lilcralure.** 
Lileralure  anä  Psychology,  28,  no.  1  (1978).  23-39,  28.  no.  3-4  (1978).  151-167;  Lionel 
Trilling.  "Freud:  Wiihin  and  Beyond  Culture*'  (I95S).  BeyondCuliure:  Essays  on  Lileralure 
anäLearning  (New  Yort  1965).  77-i02,  and  "Art  and  Neurosir  (1945,  1947),  The  Liberal 
Imaginaiion:  Essays  on  Lileralure  anä  Society  (New  Yoit,  1976),  160-180. 


J/f 


David  Jambs  hisiiiiK 


bound  up  perhaps,  with  (he  awareness  of  our  being  so  üifferent/*" 
Rolland,  then,  represented  both  hreud's  Double  and  (he  0(her.^^  As 
Freud*s  Double,  Rolland  was  a  bro(her  in  (he  cuUural  en(eq)rise:  he 
was  irrepressibly  hones(,  had  (he  courage  ol  his  convicdons,  under- 
s(ood  individual  psychology  and  (he  role  of  ins(inc(s,  defied  social 
conven(ions,  and  combined  his  individual  in(egri(y  wi(h  ai1is(ic  abil- 
i(y.  As  Freud*s  0(her,  Rolland  was  (he  unreachable  love-objec(,  a 
symbolic  objec(  of  (emp(a(ion  and  seduc(ion,  a  desire  (ha(  remained 
e(emally  unfulfilled.  His  differences  from  Freud  were  s(riking.  It  is 
qui(e  possible  (ha(  Freud  saw  in  Rolland,  as  Double  and  as  0(her, 
long  suppressed  aspec(s  of  his  own  personali(y,  such  as  a  suscep(ibil- 
i(y  to  mys(ical  ideas,  a  craving  for  success  and  recogni(ion,  crea(ive 
aspira(ions,  and  a  desire  (o  serve  humani(y. 

In  Civilizaiion  andits  Disconients,  (he  scien(is(,  ailis(,  and  in(ellec- 
tual  are  (he  pro(o(ypes  of  (he  sublima(ed  man.  Freud  delinea(es  sharp 
op|)osi(ions  be(ween  artis(ic  ac(ivi(y  and  (he  work  of  science.^  I  would 
like  (o  sugges(  (ha(  Rolland  is  one  of  (he  principal,  bu(  invisible 
representa(ives  of  ar(is(ic  and  in(ellec(ual  sublima(ion  in  (he  essay, 
and  (ha(  Freud  approaches  him  wi(h  a  charac(eris(ic  double-edged 
sword:  wi(h  apprecia(ion  on  (he  one  band;  and  wi(h  a  consciousness  of 
Ihe  risks  involved  in  (oo  much  sublima(ion  on  (he  o(her  band — (he 
inference  being  (ha(  Rolland  could  no  longer  serve  as  a  realis(ic  model 
for  emula(ion. 

Freud  recognized  (he  self-discipline  and  years  of  self-sacrifice  (ha( 
wen(  in(o  (he  crea(ion  of  li(erary  mas(erpieces.  Rolland  was  an  *'Un- 
forge((able  Man""  because  he  knew  how  (o  suffer,  how  (o  endure 
hardship,  how  (o  give  al(njis(ically  (o  humani(y,  and  he  no(  only 
embcxlied  will  power,  bu(  also  channeied  his  psychic  drives  in  con- 
s(ruc(ive  direc(ions.  In  his  rela(ionship  and  deba(es  wi(h  Rolland, 
Freud  was  forced  (o  revise  his  earlier  a  priori  views  of  (he  artis(  as 
passive,  given  over  (o  fan(asy,  slighdy  feminine,  ou(  of  (ouch  wi(h  (he 


"L>eltcr  from  Freud  lo  Romain  Rolland.  May  1931.  Freud  Leiters,  406. 

"See  Icller  from  Freud  lo  Arthur  Schnilzler.  14  May  1922.  Freud  Leiters,  197-198.  for 
Frcud's  Ihoughis  on  his  doubleness  wiih  a  prominent  Viennese  whter.  For  a  psychoanalytic 
reading  of  Ihc  problem  of  olhemess.  scie  (jican.  "Desire  and  Ihe  Inlerprelalion  of  Desire  in 
Hamlet"  II-52;  Jacques  Lacan.  'The  Function  of  Language  in  P&ychoanalysis."  in  The 
Language  of  ihe  Seif,  tr.  Anthony  Wilden  (Baltimore.  1968).  3-87;  Anthony  Wilden.  "Lacan 
and  the  Discourse  of  ihe  Other."  ibid  .  137-311;  Herbert  1.  Kupper  and  Hilda  S.  Roll- 
man-Branch,  "Freud  and  Schnitzler — (Doppelgänger)."  Journal  of  American  Psychoanalytic 
Association  7  (1959).  109-126. 

^J.  Laplanche  and  J.-B.  Pontalis.  The  Language  of  Psycho- Analysis,  Ir.  Donald  Nichol- 
son-Smith.  (New  York,  1973).  431-433 

"Letter  from  Freud  lo  Romain  Rolland,  29  Jan.   1926,  Freud  Leiters,  364;  ihis  is  Ihe 
opening  line  of  Freud's  Iribute  lo  Rolland  on  his  sixtictli  biiihduy. 

272 


Reading  Frcud's  Civilizaiion  imä  hs  Disionlenis 

reality  principle — a  dreamer  and  roinan(ic.  Rolland  had  demons(ra(ed 
(ha(  cuUural  work  emanated  from  (he  ar(is(*s  self-mas(ery.  Unless  (he 
impulses  were  (amed,  (he  cuUural  produc(s  (hemselves  could  no(  be 
(ransformed  in(o  vehicies  for  (he  (ransfer  of  energy  be(ween  (he  ar(is( 
and  his  public.  Commi((ed  (o  (he  crea(ion,  reinven(ion,  and  in(erpre(a- 
tion  of  beau(y,  Rolland*s  life  and  work  (ook  on  meaning  in  (he  pro- 
duc(ion  of  useless  ye(  highly  prized  artis(ic  objec(s  and  ideas  (Civiliza- 
iion, pp.  82-83).  The  Word  ''useless*'  is  in(ended  nei(her  (o  denigra(e 
cuhure,  nor  to  confer  meaning  on  cuhural  objec(s;  ra(her,  Freud  is 
referring  (o  a  biological  and  ma(erial  concept  of  necessi(y.  Artists  like 
Rolland  had  (o  survive  (hrough  compensa(ory  forms  of  gra(irica(ion. 
They  derived  sus(enance  from  the  pleasure  of  s(eady  men(al  work, 
from  (he  narcissis(ic  pleasure  of  giving  birth  to  beautifui  crea(ions,  a 
joy  no(  unlike  (hose  which  parents  derive  from  their  children;  and 
from  the  mild  intoxications  that  come  with  solving  mental  problems 
er  perfecting  one*s  craft. 

Freud  reasons  in  Civilizaiion  and  lis  Disconienis  that  too  much 
Sublimation  can  result  in  grave  dangers  to  the  artist  himself.  To  de- 
prive  the  instincts  of  direct  gratification  is  to  court  the  possibility  of 
frustration  and  mental  disorder;  it  may  even  warp  the  perspective  of 
the  artist,  or  impair  his  ability  to  complete  projects.  According  to 
Freud*s  theory  of  the  economics  of  the  libido,  the  life  of  regiment  and 
restriction  can  give  rise  to  a  severely  stunted  personality.  Overly 
sublimated  artists  like  Rolland  lived  like  horses  without  oats;^  they 
ignored  or  obliterated  instinctual  demands.  They  often  loved  ideas  or 
humani(y  in  an  abs(ract  and  disembodied  sense;  they  withdrew  from 
the  cities  and  from  social  relationships;  they  lived  a  hermit*s  exis- 
tence;  they  mortified  the  flesh;  they  craved  rest,  isolation,  and  soll- 
tude;  and  they  were  unable  to  achieve  or  to  sustain  mutual,  intimate, 
heterosexual  love  rela(ionships  (Civilizaiion,  pp.  79-81,  102). 

Thus  the  poignant  Situation  of  the  makers  of  civilization  is  that 
those  who  apparently  gave  the  most  to  society  and  to  posterity  re- 
ceived  very  little  in  retum.  According  to  Freud*s  perception,  Rolland 
was  a  perfect  symbol  of  the  overly  sublimated,  ascetic,  self-abne- 
ga(ing  man  of  cuhure,  (he  martyr  who  knew  how  to  give  gifts,  yet 
who  seemed  cons(i(u(ionally  or  psychologically  incapable  of  permit- 
ting  human  reciprocity.  Wi(hin  (he  Freudian  concep(ual  framework, 
Oedipal  man  is  guil(-ridden,  while  narcissistic  man  is  tragic.  Rolland 
thus  served  Freud  simuhaneously  as  a  symbol  of  (he  achievemen(s  of 
civilization  and  an  example  of  the  dangers  of  excessive  Sublimation. 

'^Sigmund  Freud.  Five  Lectures  on  PsychoAnalysis  (igio),  Standard  Edition  ofthe  Com- 
plete Psychological  Works  of  Sigmund  Freud,  cd.  James  Sirachey  (LA>ndon.  1937K  li:SS- 


273 


David  Jambs  Fisiiir 

For  the  second  edition  of  Civilizaiion  and  Its  Disamtents,  Freud 
added  several  footnotes,  one  sentence  to  an  exisling  rootnote,  and  the 
concluding  line  tu  the  text.  I  suggest  that  these  seemingly  trivial 
edilorial  corrections  rerer  directly  and  indirectly  to  Rolland,  that  they 
are  a  parallel  text  that  reflects  Freud's  continual  ambivalente  toward 
the  French  writer,  and  that  they  require  interpretation.  They  are  part 
of  the  dehate  on  the  oceanic  feeling,  and  they  continue  the  polemic, 
further  illustrating  Rolland^s  presence  throughout  the  text  of  Civiliza- 
iion and  Its  Discontents. 

After  mencioning  but  discretely  not  naming  bis  "friend'*  four  times 
in  the  text  (five  if  we  include  the  reference  to  ''another  friend  of  mine** 
who  experiments  with  yoga,  who  is  also  Rolland),  Freud  abruptly 
ends  the  confidentiality,  identifies  Rolland  by  name,  and  then  cites 
three  of  bis  works:  '*Liluli.  Since  the  publication  of  bis  two  books, 
Im  Vie  de  Ramakrishna  and  La  Vie  de  Vivekananda,  I  need  no  longer 
hide  the  fact  that  the  friend  spoken  of  in  the  text  is  Romain  Rolland** 
(p.  65,  n.  I).  The  word  **hide**  is  süriking;  one  wonders  about  Freud*s 
mixed  motives  in  concealing  this  Information,  especially  given  bis 
methodological  interest  in  exposing  latent  psychologicai  lelationships 
and  meanings. 

While  discüssing  the  mental  satisfactions  of  concentrated  intellec- 
tual  or  artistic  activity,  Freud  adds  the  following  note  on  narcissistic 
forms  of  self-sufficiency:  *'No  discussion  of  the  possibility  of  human 
happiness  should  omit  to  take  into  consideration  the  relation  between 
narcissism  and  object  libido.  We  require  to  know  what  being  essen- 
tially  self-dependent  signiFies  for  the  economics  of  the  libido'*  (Civil- 
izaiion (p.  84,  n.  2).  This  passage  shows  that  to  Freud  there  was 
a  real,  if  not  fully  articulated,  connection  between  Rolland*s  radical 
Isolation  from  society  and  from  others  and  Freud *s  theoretical  specu- 
lations  about  narcissism.  We  watch  Freud  opening  up  a  path  for 
further  research,  urging  the  psychoanalytic  researcher  to  investigate 
narcissistic  disorders  from  the  point  of  view  of  object  relations,  that 
is,  by  analyzing  how  the  individual  relates  to  signiflcant  others,  be- 
ginning  with  his  mother.^^ 

To  link  the  concept  of  virtue  and  a  punitive  conscience,  Freud  adds 
a  footnote  in  Chapler  7.  In  citing  Mark  Twain*s  story  'The  First 
Melon  I  Ever  Stole,*'  Freud  is  once  again  casting  one  literary  sensibil- 
ity  against  another,  siding  with  Twain  against  Rolland.  His  purpose  is 

'This  suggesliun  has  reccnlly  led  10  crealivc  resulis  in  the  psychoanalytic  works  of  Heinz 
Kohul.  The  Änaivsis  of  the  Seif  (New  York.  197 1).  anti  of  Otto  Kemberg.  BonJerline 
Condiiions  and  Faihohgual  Nanisiism  (New  York.  1973). 


Reading  Freud *s  Civilizaiion  and  ils  üisconlenis 

to  Signal  the  dangers  of  overly  strict  moral  stances.  To  ans  wer  Rol- 
land*s  righteousness,  to  refute  the  French  moralist*s  defense  of  a 
severe  conscience,  Freud  juxtaposes  Twain's  light,  sarcastic  musings 
on  melon  stealing.  The  melon  is  a  sexually  evocative  symbol,  and  to 
engage  in  melon  stealing  is  to  fulfill  a  proscribed  but  universal  wish. 
Twain  wonders  out  loud:  '"Was  it  the  first?**  And  Freud  replies:  *The 
Hrst  melon  was  evidently  not  the  only  one**  (p.  73,  n.  2).  Thus  Freud 
himself  steals  the  metaphor  to  indicate  in  a  gentle  way  that  virtue 
often  cloaks  underlying  sadistic  tendencies.  Like  Heine*s,  Twain*s 
honesty  is  refreshing  and  funny;  Freud  was  delighted  by  Twain*s 
ability  to  lift  the  censorship  which  surrounds  pilfering  and  other  *'im- 
moral**  acts.  He  viewed  this  admission  as  a  disruptive  activity  which 
carried  an  important  psychologicai  significance. 

Finally,  the  last  sentence  of  the  second  edition  of  Civilizaiion  and 
Ils  Disconienis  can  be  viewed  not  as  an  afterthought,  not  simply  a 
presentiment  of  the  rise  of  Nazism,  but  rather  as  a  deliberate  effort  to 
counter  the  optimism  connected  with  the  supposed  retum  and  victory 
of  Eros  in  the  perpetual  struggle  between  life  and  death:  **But  who  can 
foresee  with  what  success  and  with  what  result?**  (p.  145).  This  inter- 
rogative mode  suggests  that  Freud*s  metapsychology  is  fundamentally 
dissimilar  to  Rolland*s  oceanic  metaphysics.  Freud's  technique  and 
conceptual  apparatus  do  not  necessarily  lead  to  wisdom,  progress, 
happiness,  or  optimistic  conclusions.  To  end  the  second  edition  on  a 
measured  note  is  to  restate  the  cautionary  stance  of  psychoanalysis. 
Enlightening  man  about  his  unconscious  processes  and  his  psycho- 
sexual  development  may  take  generations.  Nor  is  Freud  more  sanguine 
about  the  tangible  results  of  his  own  methodology  in  analyzing  cul- 
tural  pattems,  in  providing  answers  to  man*s  "ultimate  concems/*  or 
in  guaranteeing  the  triumph  of  Eros  over  Thanatos.  It  may  also  be  that 
he  wanted  to  reply  to  Rolland*s  oceanic  Sensation  one  last  time:  by 
criticizing  oceanic  optimism,  Freud  ends  his  mbst  synthetic  essay 
poignantly,  with  modesty  and  uninhibited  skepticism. 

The  history  of  the  psychoanalytic  movement  is  intimately  related  to 
Freud*s  personal  and  intellectual  history.  In  a  dramatic  way  Freud  was 
his  own  most  persistent  patient.  And  throughout  his  life,  he  continued 
to  Interpret  his  dreams,  to  free-associate,  to  analyze  jokes,  slips, 
memory  disturbances,  In  shoit  to  apply  his  techniques  to  himself  with 
the  evenly  suspended  attention  he  calied  for  In  the  treatment  of  pa- 
tients.  Rieff  has  described  Freud*s  directness  and  candor.  and  bis 
adherence  to  the  ethic  of  honesty  In  psychoanalytic  theory  and  prac- 


274 


275 


David  James  Fisiibr 

tice;  (he  overriding  psychoanalycic  ruie.  alter  all.  is  to  say  whal  comes 
to  mind.  Freud*s  discourse  on  cullure  in  CivilizatUm  and  Its  Discon- 
tents  does  precisely  this:  and  wilh  resulls  (hat  are  stunning,  surprising, 
and  majestic. 

As  a  diagnostician  of  culture,  Freud  is  not  always  logically  consis- 
tem,  conceptually  precise,  or  philosophically  rigorous.  His  arguments 
are  not  always  crystal  clear,  his  mediations  are  often  insufriciently 
elaborated.  In  reading  him  we  have  to  beware  of  his  sloppiness,  his 
(Kcasional  use  of  nonreferential  material,  and  his  unhistorical  ten< 
dency  to  rely  on  poorly  defined  temporal  and  spatial  categories.  This 
early  pioneer  in  the  psychohistory  of  culture  often  lacks  historical 
speciHcity. 

Freud*s  restless,  curious  mind  is  perpetually  searching  for  signifi- 
cations;  he  could  not  tolerate  meaninglessness.  If  Freud  errs  in  any 
direction,  it  is  in  his  tendency  to  overinterpret,  which,  in  tum,  reflects 
his  desire  for  closure,  for  posing  Solutions  to  problems.  Frequently 
these  Solutions  are  tentative,  speculative,  and  shifting,  while  the  is- 
sues  being  scrutinized  seem  pressing  and  urgent.  But  if  he  overintel- 
lectualizes,  he  also  displays  remarkable  ease  with  contradiction,  am- 
biguity,  and  mixed  meanings.  He  not  only  appreciates  the  process  of 
delay  involved  in  building  theory  and  in  conducting  research,  but  he 
also  calls  for  periodic  reassessments  of  working  hypotheses  in  the 
light  of  new  data. 

In  initiating  psychoanalytic  discourse  on  culture,  Freud  brought  to 
his  researches  a  militantly  atheistic  and  secular  point  of  view.  This  is 
totally  opposed  to  the  world  view  of  Romain  Kolland.  For  Freud  the 
accent  is  always  on  man  himself,  as  he  is,  without  metaphysical  or 
sentimental  embellishment.  Psychoanalysis  is  not  formulated  as  a  re- 
ligion;  it  neither  provides  a  fully  integra(ed  world  vision,  nor  offers 
answers  to  the  riddles  of  the  universe.  We  have  seen  how  Freud  sets 
up  psychoanalytic  constructs  as  a  stable,  scientiflc  theory  differentiat- 
ing  them  from  less  reality-bound  endeavors,  such  as  literature,  music, 
mysticism,  or  revolutionary  politics,  which  are  likely  to  instigate  or 
perpetuate  illusions.  Yet  his  own  writing  is  often  literary,  metaphor- 
ical,  evocative,  mobile,  and  wandering.  Freud  tapped  his  own  fantasy 
life  in  his  writings,  and  his  very  best  writing  is  playful.  In  Civilization 
and  Its  Discontents,  he  even  played  with  the  notion  that  civilization 
itself  might  be  overvalued,  that  cultural  production  may  not  be  worth 
the  sacriflce  and  demands  it  entails  for  the  individual  creator. 

Extending  the  psychoanalytic  stance  of  technical  neutrality  toward 
the  patient,  Freud  remains  neutral  toward  past  and  present  forms  of 

276 


Reading  Freud's  Cmlizaüon  and  Its  üisiontents 

culture.  Such  neutrality  allows  both  for  empathic  understanding  and 
for  self-retlexive  interpretations.  Freud  thus  consciously  avoids  spec- 
ulating  about  the  value  of  human  civilization.  Unlike  Rolland,  he 
deliberately  refuses  the  role  of  prophet,  makes  no  predictions  about 
the  future  of  mankind,  presents  no  coherent  scale  of  values  or  partic- 
ular  set  of  priorities  to  his  public. 

Instead  of  mindless  hope  or  religious  consolation,  instead  of 
ecstatic  fusion  with  humanity  or  narcissistic  fantasies  of  amorous 
bonding,  Freud  offers  the  qualified  program  of  an  irreligious  educa- 
tion  to  reality,  informed  by  psychoanalytic  insights  and  methods. 
In  the  twentieth  Century,  only  the  ignorant  can  afford  to  bypass  psy- 
choanalysis. Such  an  educalion  aims  at  subverting  naive  or  antipsy- 
chological  prejudices,  at  eroding  rigid  ethical  codes  and  outdated 
moralisms,  in  order  to  establish  a  more  sober  approach  to  the  peren- 
nial ques(ion  of  freedom  and  necessity. 

The  psychoanalytic  outlook  on  culture  stresses  how  society,  through 
language,  symbol,  ritual,  institutions,  and  the  family,  imposes  itself 
on  our  drives.  Freud*s  point  of  view  in  Civilization  and  Its  Discon- 
tents  mirrors  his  therapeutic  posture:  both  the  analyst  in  the  clinical 
setting  and  the  psychoanalytic  culture  critic  endorse  the  voice  of  the 
reality  principle,  opposing  simultaneously  the  unrelenting  demands  of 
the  id  and  the  false  idealism  and  destructive  demands  of  the  superego. 
In  contrast  to  oceanic  forms  of  merger,  the  reality  principle  presup- 
poses  that  the  seif  can  keep  distinct  the  line  where  the  seif  ends  and 
the  extemal  worid  and  the  world  of  objects  begins;  that  is,  it  requires 
paying  attention  to  the  real  world.  The  ego  needs  to  be  both  protected 
and  fortiHed;  it  is  fragile,  easily  ensnared,  easily  decentered.  Part  of 
the  condition  of  being  neurotic  in  modern  society  means  the  impossi- 
bility  of  achieving  mental  synthesis.  The  ego  develops  defensive  and 
adaptative  tendencies  to  cope  with  this  absence  of  psychic  and  social 
harmony.  Paul  Ricoeur  argues  that  for  Freud  the  reality  principle  is 
closely  linked  to  an  ethical  idea  of  prudence.  The  individual  leams 
how  to  endure  pain,  loss,  Separation,  lack  of  success,  unpleasure, 
without  giving  way  to  despair  or  destructive  deflections,  and  without 
"acting  out."'* 

Writing  neither  as  an  indignant  enemy  of  nor  as  an  apologist  for 
civilization,  believing  neither  in  imminent  social  apocalypse  nor  in 
some  static  model  of  the  individual's  conflict  with  society,  Freud 
refrained  from  a  priori  ethical  judgments  and  prescriptions.  He  is  a 

*'Paul  Ricoeur.  Freud  anJ  Philosophy:  An  Essay  on  Inierpreiaiion,  U.  Denis  Savage  (New 
Haven.  1970).  279.  302-309.  326. 

277 


1^. 


David  James  FisiitR 

System  builder  who  appreciaied  the  inconclusive  quality  of  lived  expe- 
rience,  of  disrupcions  thal  could  not  he  circumscribed  by  sysleins.  He 
is  a  moralist  who  relrains  from  inoral  preaching.  a  teacher  who  es- 
chews  didaclicism.  Trulh  seeking  is  elevated  inio  a  process  of  com- 
prehending  ihe  individuals  Situation  in  society.  The  Suspension  of 
value  judgmenl  is  Ihus  a  slep  toward  seil  knowledge.  toward  Iruly 
critical  forms  of  cuhural  inquiry,  for  ii  liberales  the  mind  from  infan- 
tile modes  of  thought.  It  is  also  a  way  of  releasing  the  individual  from 
violence  and  seif  destrucliveness.  without  imitaling  or  intemalizing 
the  aggression.  Ethical  neulrality  makes  it  possible  for  the  reality 
principle  lo  dominate  Ihe  pleasure  principle  in  the  development  and 
deployment  of  human  consciousness.  Consciousness— "de-emolional- 
ized  reason"^*— becomes  indispensable  in  Freud 's  view  of  cultural  con- 
tinuily  and  ruplure;  it.  alone,  provides  the  individual  with  the  tools  by 
which  he  can  masler  natura  and  move  gropingly  Ioward  conirol  of 
aggression.  guilt.  and  his  own  self-destructiveness.  Consciousness  be- 
comes  crucial  in  lifling  the  censors.  in  moving  toward  self-fulfillment 
in  ones  work  and  in  one's  love  life.  Freud,  ihen.  presenis  psycho- 
analysis  as  more  than  a  synchronic  discourse  which  comments  on  oiher 
discourses  in  an  artifical  and  ahistorical  manner.  Psychoanalylic  cul- 
lure  crilicism  integrales  iheory  and  praciice,  white  working  al  the 
poinis  of  convergence  of  the  individuals  life  in  society;  il  is  orienied 
Ioward  the  individuals  mastery  of  infantile  modes  of  thought  and 
behavior  without  denying  Ihe  complexities  of  lived  experience. 

To  read  Civilizaiion  and  Its  Disconients  is  lo  recognize  thal  the 
psychoanalylic  interprelation  of  cullure  may  be  as  fundamentally  in- 
terminable  and  enriching  lo  the  reader  as  psychoanalylic  Ireatment  is 
to  the  palient.  The  book*s  own  self-reflexive  form  and  ambiguous 
meaning  prepare  us  for  Ihe  long  process  of  remembering.  repealing. 
and  working  through  thal  is  involved  in  the  mastery  of  the  Freudiaii 
instrumenl  of  liberalion.  The  ideal  reader  and  teacher  of  Civilizütion 
and  Its  Discontents  would  be  one  with  a  tolerance  of  delay.  delour, 
and  postponement  in  Ihe  search  for  answers  to  meaningfui  queslions. 
Such  a  reader  would  be  open  lo  psychoanalylic  cullure  crilicism  as  a 
research  sirategy.  or  al  least  would  be  willing  to  suspend  his  disbelief. 
An  audience  of  such  readers  would  be  unafraid  to  draw  on  iheir 
reservoir  of  personal  emolions  as  well  as  on  their  intelleclual  facul- 

*^hc  Icmi  is  iaken  from  Frank  E  and  Frilzic  P  Manuel.  Uiopian  Thought  in  the  Western 
Wor/</ (Cambridge.  Mass  1979).  791;  ihe  Manuels  read  Civilizaiion  an J  Its  Disamienis  as 
"Ihe  mosl  irenchani  and  devasialing  aiiack  on  uiopian  illusions— whal  he  {Freud)  calied  the 
luilabies  of  heaven— ihai  has  cver  l)een  delivercd"  (788). 

278 


Reading  Freud*s  Civilizaiion  and  hs  Disconienis 

lies.  Such  an  audience  would.  above  all,  Iry  to  emulale  Freud:  in 
using  one*s  own  psychic  conflicls  and  ambivalences  creatively  in 
Order  to  fertilize  one*s  relationship  lo  the  cultural  process — as  a  bolh 
Creator  and  recipient  of  thal  cullure. 


279 


BOOK  REVIEW 

A  Secret  Symmetry:  Sabina  Spielrein  Between  Jung  And  Fretul 

Aldo  Carotenuto,  ed. 
Reviewcd  by  David  James  Fisher,  Ph.D. 

Exciting  archival  discoveries  perplex  and  create  fresh  difficulties  for  the 
historian  of  psychoanalysis.  He  must  immediately  consider  the  issue  of 
disclosure.  He  is  forced  to  decide  if  the  sources  should  be  concealed, 
censored,  stashed  away»  published  partially,  er  published  fully  but  with 
edjtorial  annotations  and  scholarly  paraphrenalia.  G)nteniporary  writers 
seem  astonishingly  eager  to  exhume  the  corpses  of  famous  psychoanalysts. 
Audiences  are  curious  to  read  the  results  of  these  disinterments,  especially  if 
the  content  proves  to  be  scandalous  or  salacious.  All  too  often,  gifted 
pioneers  of  psychoanalysis  are  treated  tactiessly  and  exhibitionistically, 
without  the  slightest  regard  for  their  struggles  and  lasting  contribution. 
Time  and  distance  normally  permit  one  to  scrutinize  a  life  dispassionately, 
even  with  nuance,  thereby  allowing  the  public  access  to  the  facts,  allowing 
them  to  draw  their  own  conclusions.  Recent  studies  in  psychoanalytic 
scholarship,  biography  most  egregiously,  have  trivialized  the  genre. 
Frequently,  untrained  authors  present  us  with  a  wild  and  irresponsible 
autopsy  of  the  mind.  The  autopsies  have  tended  to  be  debunking  and 
reductionistic,  often  gratuitously  so.  With  their  undue  emphasis  on  the 
sensational,  the  irrelevant,  the  gossipy,  and  the  polemical,  these  works  have 
overwhelmed  judicious  attempts  to  appraise  the  life  and  significance  of  a 
given  psychoanalyst  or  psychoanalytic  school. 

Documents,  of  course,  do  not  speak  for  themselves.  They  often  disguise 
their  meanings.  They  must  be  situated,  placed  in  an  intellectual  context,  and 
understood  in  terms  of  the  life  history  of  the  individual.  Above  all,  the 
sources  must  be  interpreted. 

Aldo  Carotenuto,  a  Jungian  analyst  and  Professor  of  Psychology  at  the 
University  of  Rome,  faced  these  choices  in  1977,  when  he  was  presented 
with  a  fascinating  batch  of  unpublished  material  discovered  in  Geneva  at  the 
Institute  of  Psychology.  Carotenuto  examined  documents  left  behind  by 
Sabina  Spielrein,  a  forgotten  and  rather  remarkable  personality  in  the 
psychoanalytic  movement.  The  Spielrein  collection  included  as  its  center 
piece  a  forty-one  page  diary  written  from  \909  to  1912;  framing  the  diary 
were  triangulär  exchanges  between  Spielrein,  Jung,  and  Freud;  specifically, 
there  were  forty-six  letters  from  Jung  to  Spielrein  (which  the  Jung  estate 
refused  authorization  to  publish);  twelve  letters  from  Spielrein  to  Jung; 
twenty  letters  from  Freud  to  Spielrein;  and  two  letters  (or  drafts)  from 
Spielrein  to  Freud. 


26- 


In  A  Secret  Symmetry,  Carotenuto's  strategy  is  to  present  the  documents  in 
süperb  translations  and  then  to  narrate  Spielrein's  life  and  times,  weaving 
in  her  theoretical  writings  with  a  linear  account  of  her  psychoanalytic  and 
cultural  milieu.  Carotenuto  writes  from  the  perspective  of  Analytic 
Psychology.  While  much  of  bis  exposition  is  valuable,  I  found  bis 
interpretative  passages  unconvincing,  tendentious,  and  regrettably  off 
target.  When  bis  language  is  not  plainly  presumptuous,  it  is  often  apologetic 
for  Jung  and  bis  transparently  indecent  behavior.  For  me,  the  primary 
documents  are  more  compelling  than  the  accompanying  essay. 

The  great  discovery  in  this  text  is  Spielrein  herseif.  And  what  a  magnificent 
person  she  was!  On  first  encounter  one  is  Struck  by  her  versatility  and  her 
ecumenical  interests,  her  probing  doubt  and  poignant  self-doubt.  I  was 
impressed  by  her  self-consciousness  and  self-reflexiveness,  her  capacity  for 
continuous  emotional  and  intellectual  growth.  This  sensitive  soul,  with 
slightly  mystical  and  neo-romantic  tendencies,  reflected  on  and  transcended 
her  own,  quite  deep-seated,  psychological  disturbances  in  an  imaginative, 
altogether  Singular  fashion.  She  was  a  vibrant  personality  who  possessed  a 
rare  blend  of  artistic  intuition,  scientific  rigor,  and  theoretical  originality. 
Spielrein  belongs  to  that  generation  of  brilliant  and  willful  women  who 
were  committed  to  psychoanalysis  because  psychoanalytic  theory  and 
practice  sprang  from  the  depths  of  their  beings.  Psychoanalysis  became  her 
life,  her  calling,  her  bridge  to  the  past  and  to  the  future.  Her  scientific  work 
complemented  her  scholarly  investigations  of  folklore,  mythology,  the 
psychology  of  religion,  music,  art  history,  and  that  frontier  region  where 
language  and  psychoanalysis  intersect.  Her  inventiveness,  intellectual 
audacity,  visceral  devotion  to  research,  psychological  perspicaciousness,  her 
capacity  to  survive  a  tumultuous  ordeal  and  to  generate  fertile  ideas,  all  seem 
so  exceptional  that  she  appears  larger  than  life. 

But  she  was  not  a  character  in  a  novel.  Spielrein  was  born  in  1883  in 
Rostov-on-Don,  the  eldest  child  and  only  surviving  daughter  in  a  family 
with  four  siblings.  She  came  from  the  cultivated  Russian  Jewish  bourgeoisie, 
a  bourgeoisie  which  was  educationally  conscious  and  oriented  toward 
Europe.  Her  grandfather  and  great-grandfather  had  been  bbbis.  Spielrein's 
carly  childhood  was  marked  by  painfui,  extended  episodes  of  feces  retention, 
often  lasting  two  weeks.  She  recurrently  fantasized  about  defecating  on  her 
father.  In  addition,  she  feared  soiling  herseif.  (Curiously,  her  name 
cranslates  as  "clean"  "play"  in  German).  Spielrein  masturbated 
compulsively  and  expressed  wildly  ambivalent  feelings  for  the  people  in  her 
life.  She  was  periodically  depressed;  her  suicidal  thoughts  alternated  with 
uncontrollable  bouts  of  laughing,  weeping,  and  screaming.  In  1SK)4,  at  age 
20,  her  parents  brought  her  to  the  Burgholzli  mental  hospital  ih  Zürich,  an 
Institution  renowned  for  its  treatment  of  severe  psychic  disorders — path- 
ology  that  we  would  classify  today  as  borderline  or  psychotic.  Her  physician 
was  Jung.  Jung  apparently  treated  her  according  to  Freud's  methods.  He 
diagnosed  her  illness  as  severe  hysteria,  or  as  he  put  it  to  Freud,  "psychotic 


-27- 


hy-teria."  (Bettelheim.  in  a  recent  cssay  in  the  New  York  Review  of  Bookf, 
argues  that  she  was  schizoid  and  probably  cxperienced  one  or  more 
Schizophrenie  episodes.)  In  1905.  Spielrein  had  recovercd  enough  to  enter 
the  University  of  Zürich  to  study  medicine.  In  1911  she  graduated  as  a 
doctor  in  medicine.  with  a  specialty  in  psychiatry,  after  writing  her  thesis  on 
The  Psychological  Content  of  a  Gase  of  Schizophrenia." 

In  1912,  Spielrein  published  a  seminal  papcr  entitied  "Destniction  as  a 
Cause  of  Coming  into  Being.'  Written  in  German.  it  appeared  in  the 
Yearbook  for  Psychoanalysis  and  Piychopathological  Research;  the  paper 
was  a  daring  inquiry  into  the  death  instinct.  anticipating  by  eight  years 
Freuds  discussion  of  the  same  subject  in  Beyond  the  Pleasure  Principle. 
Several  of  Spielreins  insights  prefigure  the  findings  of  existential 
psychoanalysis  in  the  1930's  and  1940s. She spent  the period October.  191 1. 
to  November.  1912,  in  Vienna.  wherc  she  became  closely  associated  with 
Freuds  circle  and  the  Vienna  Psychoanalytic  Society.  She  also  lived  in  Berlin 
for  a  time.  In  1913  SpieIrcin  married  Dr.  Paul  Scheftel;  while  little  is 
recorded  about  the  marriage.  we  do  know  that  her  daughter.  Renate,  was 
born  in  September,  1913. 

From  1914  until  1923.  SpieIrcin  became  the  proverbial  wandering  Jew. 
practicing  psychoanalysis  in  Swiss  cities  such  as  Uusannc.  Chateaux  dOex.' 
and  Geneva.  For  eight  months  in  1921.  she  analyzed  the  great  cognitivc 
psychologist,  Jean  Piaget,  in  Geneva.  Possibly  under  Piagets  influence,  she 
published  a  1922  paper  calied  "Consideration  of  Various  Sieges  of  Lingu'istic 
Development:  The  Origins  of  the  Childish  Words  Papa  and  Mama.'  Herc 
she  attempted  to  integrate  semantic  and  pcrceptual  approaches  to  the  mind 
within  a  psychoanalytic  conceptual  frame.  Passages  from  her  papers  reveal 
her  incisive  grasp  of  issues— the  breast  and  the  babys  activity  of  sucking  at 
the   mother's   breast;   the  centrality  of   language   in   the   psychoanalytic 
dialogue  and  the  role  of  otherness  in  the  unconscious— which  Melanie  Klein 
and  Jacques  Lacan  would  subsequently  highlight  in  their  theoretical  projects. 
Spielrein  was  a  forerunner,  a  powerfui  germinal  thinker.  In  1923  and  clearly 
out  of  sympathy  for  the  social  experiment  under  way  in  the  Soviet  Union 
(in  1923  Lenin  was  still  alive.  though  gravely  ill;  Stalin  had  not  yet  emerged 
as  bis  successor,  nor  Consolidated  bis  power).  Spielrein  returned  home  to 
Rostov-on-Don.  She  did  so  with  Freuds  blessing.  She  became  involved  in 
the  Russian  psychoanalytic  movement,  participating  in  a  research  endeavor 
on  psychoanalytic  pedagogy.  She  helped  to  design  a  special  home  for  infants 
and  children  combining  psychoanalytic  views  of  sexual  education  and  early 
childhood  development  with   a  socialist  environmentalism  and  a 
commitment  to  humanize  the  Community.  Her  last  paper,  dated   1931, 
focused  on  childrens  drawings.  comparing  those  executed  with  eyes  open 
and  those  with  eyts  closed;  the  metaphor  of  seeing  and  non-seeing  may 
indicate  her  frustration  with  the  practical  attempt  to  synthesize  the  ideas  of 
Marx  and  Freud.  In  1936  the  Communist  Party  outlawed  psychoanalysis  in 
the  Soviet  Union.  Spielrein,  herseif,  probably  perished  in  Stalins  purges  in 


28 


1937.  She  left  behind  some  30  papers. 
So  much  for  the  contours  of  her  lifc. 

Spielreins  diary  and  letters,  however,  reveal  that  the  Jung/Spielrein 
connection  exceeded  the  boundary  and  propriety  of  the  patient-physician 
relationship.  All  the  available  evidence  suggests  a  passionate  love  affair 
between  the  two.  almost  certainly  one  that  was  consummated  sexually.  Jung 
was  Spielreins  first  love.  He  came  to  represent  not  only  that  indispensable 
person  who  had  "cured"  her,  but  also  her  "savior."  "rescuer."  her  personal 
charismatic  hero.  She  collaborated  with  Jung  in  bis  early  papers  on 
association.  They  seemed  to  have  many  ideas  in  common.  Jung  confided  to 
her  bis  own  dreams  during  her  therapeutic  sessions;  he  requested  that  she 
read  his  intimate  Journal,  and  invited  her  to  meet  bis  wife  and  children  in 
the  Jung  family  circle.  Since  Jungs  letters  remain  unpublished.  we  can  only 
guess  at  the  motives  of  his  heirs.  Cover-up  seems  likely.  We  may  never 
know.  The  love  affair  with  Spielrein  clearly  threatened  Jungs  professional 
career.  It  decisively  shifted  Freuds  perceptioh  of  him. 

While  it  is  impossible  to  date  the  precise  beginnings  of  the  affair.  we  know 
that  it  became  public  knowledge  in  1909.  In  all  probability  Emma  Jung, 
Jung's  wife,  wrote  to  Spielrein's  mother  in  Russia  bringing  the  salient  facts 
out  in  the  open.  Soon  after  Spielrein  wrote  Freud  informing  him  of  the 
matter,  requesting  his  advice  and  Intcrccssion.  Jung  then  wrote  a  self- 
serving  and  malicious  letter  to  Spieircin's  mother,  rationalizing  his  behavior 
on  the  grounds  that  he  was  not  paid  a  fee  for  his  Services.  Payment. 
according  to  Jung's  chop  logic.  and  not  some  other  code.  moral  or 
professional,  is  what  guaranteed  an  analyst's  integrity.  restraint.  and  respect 
for  his  patient.  Instead  of  taking  rcsponsibility  for  his  breach  of  clinical 
ethics,Jung  claimed  that  money  was  the  real  issuc;  and  he  urged  Spielrein's 
mother  to  compensate  him  for  his  Services.  After  reading  this  letter,  and 
hearing  Jung  s  corroboration  of  Spielrein's  version,  Freud  revised  his  carlier 
opinions  of  both  Spielrein  and  Jung,  the  latter  his  chosen  successor.  Freud 
stated  that  he  had  bcen  "wrong"  in  automatically  siding  with  Jung,  "wrong" 
in  misconstruing  the  facts  to  Speilrein's  disadvantage,  and  pleased  with 
Spielrein's  maturity  in  resolving  the  disturbing  intimacy  with  Jung. 

Yet,  Spielrein  resolved  her  conflict  with  Jung  in  her  own  peculiar  fashion. 
She  stepped  "between "  Jung  and  Freud;  that  is,  she  became  the  self- 
appointed  intermediary,  attempting  to  conciliate  the  two  Systems,  and 
promoting  a  rapprochement  between  the  estranged  thinkers  after  the  split 
in  1913. 

If  words  can  describe  Jung's  behavior  toward  Spielrein,  they  are  adjectives 
not  vcrbs.  Perhaps  shabby,  disrespectfui,  inexcusable,  and  dishonest  fit. 
Jung,  himself,  admitted  being  a  scoundrel  and  a  knave.  Spielrein  calied  Jung 
a  "No-good."  She  feit  used  and  abused  by  him,  desiring  to  "forgive  him  or 
murder  him."  On  one  occasion  she  smacked  Jung  in   the  face,  while 


-29- 


threarening  him  with  a  Icnife.  Carotenuto  refers  to  Jungs  behavior  as  a 
betrayal.  He  intimates  that  Jung  may  have  been  incapable  of  loving,  that  he 
had  marked  paranoid  tendencies,  and  that  he  was  opportunistically 
concerned  with  his  professional  reputation.  Technically,  he  explains  Jungs 
amorous  involvement  with  his  patient  in  terms  of  "psychotic  counter- 
transference,'  alleging  that  the  analysts  emotional  reaction  to  Spielrein 
triggered  some  "psychotic  nuclei"  in  the  Zürich  psychiatrist.  In  other 
passages,  nonetheless,  Carotenuto  attributes  Jungs  errors  to  youth, 
inexperience,  bad  taste,  exuberance,  cven  his  intuitive  faculties.  The  account 
of  Jungs  irresistibility  to  women  is  circular:  women  found  him  "seductive" 
because  of  Jungs  supposed  "feminine"  nature.  By  implication,  Carotenuto 
persuades  us  to  forgive  Jung,  to  remain  conscious  of  fifty  years  of  solid  and 
Creative  contributions.  and  to  always  remember  Freud's  immature 
blindspots;  Carotenuto  repeatedly  compares  the  Spielrein  affair  with 
Freud's  infatuation  with  cocaine.  Comparisons  are  always  invidious. 
Carotenuto's  analogies,  however,  worlc  against  holding  Jung  accountable  for 
his  actions. 

To  vilify  Jung  with  accusations  of  bad  faith  is  one  thing,  to  offer  a  critical 
analysis  is  quite  another.  The  documents  reveal  that  the  Spielrein  matter 
came  to  light  at  a  crucial  historical  conjuncture  when  relations  between 
Freud  and  Jung  began  to  deteriorate.  Without  rehearsing  the  complex 
reasons  for  the  Freud-Jung  split,  we  need  to  be  aware  that  personal  and 
theoretical  differences  converged  to  produce  the  rupture. 

We  know  that  Freuds  Jewishness,  the  so-calied  "Jewish  question,"  always 
operated  in  Freud's  relations  with  Jung.  Jung  appeared  an  excellent  choice  to 
succeed  Freud  because  he  was  a  respectable  Gentile;  that  is,  Freud  feit  that 
this  son  of  a  Protestant  Swiss  pastor  would  help  bring  psychoanalysis  a 
measure  of  legitimacy  in  the  Christian  ^orld  and  visibility  in  the  Psychiatric 
universe.  Under  Jungs  guidance,  Freud  hoped,  psychoanalysis  would  cxit 
from  its  ghetto-like  seclusion,  overcome  its  taint  of  Jewishness,  and  hcncc 
become  more  widely  diffused  in  medical  and  scientific  circles.  In  short, 
resistance  to  the  theory  would  not  center  around  the  Jewishness  of  the 
theory's  founder  and  its  chief  practitioners. 

After  the  rupture  with  Freud,  Jung  characterized  psychoanalysis  a  "Jewish 
psychology  "  There  is  abundant,  and  I  think  irrefutable,  evidence  that  Jung 
made  anti-Jewish  and  pro-Nazi  Statements  during  the  era  of  the  Third 
Reich,  asserting,  for  example,  that  the  Jewish  unconscious  lacked  the 
vitality,  universalism,  rootedness.  and  creative  depths  of  the  Germanic 
people.  From  1934  to  1940,  Jung  served  as  cditor  of  the  National  Socialist 
controlled  Zentralblatt  für  Psychotherapie,  writing  inflammatory  letters 
against  the  "corrosive"  nature  of  the  Jewish  point  of  view  in  psychology  and 
castigating  Freud  for  his  'soulless  materialism*  The  Spielrein  documents 
illustrate  that  Jungs  anti-Semitism  played  a  critical  and  dissolving  role  in 
the  Freud-Jung  relationship,  long  before  Hitler  entered  the  historical  stage. 


As  a  non-Jewish  Jew  who  came  into  consciousness  in  anti-Semitic  Vicnna, 
Freud's  Jewishness  was  an  integral  part  of  his  subjcctive  and  professional 
identity.  While  not  observing  Jewish  rites  or  believing  in  the  theology, 
Freud  never  denied  his  Jewishness,  never  opted  for  strategies  of 
assimilation,  and  never  embraced  any  form  of  Jewish  nationalism.  Nor  did 
he  accept  the  anti-Semitic  stereotypes  of  Jews  that  pervaded  many  stratas  of 
Viennese  society  and  culture,  including  the  university.  For  him,  Jewishness 
was  a  metaphor  for  pride,  for  thinking  rigorously  and  independently.  In 
brief,  being  Jewish  allowed  Freud  to  think  against  himself  and  to  risk 
thinking  against  the  scientific  and  moral  biases  of  his  contemporaries.  He 
also  associated  Jewishness  with  a  vague  kind  of  "ethical"  consciousness,  a 
commitment  to  honesty  in  human  relations,  to  candor  in  the  practice  of 
psychoanalysis.  Jewishness,  lastly,  provided  Freud  with  a  limited  sense  of 
Community  and  fraternity;  despite  his  unpopularity  and  isolation,  certain 
Jewish  colleagues  made  him  feel  welcome,  understood,  at  home. 

During  her  liaison  with  Jung,  Spielrein  had  a  recurring  fantasy  of  bearing 
Jung  a  son.  She  named  the  boy  child  Siegfried,  picturing  him  to  be  some 
kind  of  Wagnerian  hero,  an  Aryan  conqueror.  Siegfried  would  be  the  visible 
sign  of  the  Jung-Spielrein  union,  the  living  symbol  unifying  the  Aryan  and 
Jewish  souls.  Siegfried  also  got  into  the  latent  content  of  Spielrein's  dreams. 
From  a  Jungian  slant,  the  dream  could  be  interpreted  to  mean  that  the  great 
Aryan-Semitic  hero  might  effectuate  a  lasting  bond  between  Jung's 
typologies,  his  interests  in  parapsychology,  and  the  occult  and  Freud's  libido 
theory  and  his  more  empirically  based  science. 

Qrotenuto  quotes  a  fragment  of  a  letter  from  Jung  to  Spielrein,  dated 
September,  191 1,  in  which  Jung  stiffly  and  didactically  advises  his  pupil  how 
to  court  Freud  in  order  to  win  his  favor.  I  find  the  advice  mocking  and 
contemptuous  of  Freud:  "Approach  him  as  a  great  master  and  rabbi,  and  all 
will  be  well."  (p.  182).  Spielrein  took  issue  with  several  of  Jung's  anti-Jewish 
accusations  in  January,  1918.  As  a  Russianjew  with  a  rabbinical  heritage, 
Spielrein  was  aware  of  the  rieh  Jewish  mystical  and  messianic  tradition.  She 
pointed  out  to  Jung  that  Jewish  Spiritual  life  had  existed  for  centuries  and 
that  it  still  existed;  she  also  replied  to  Jung's  reproach,  so  prototypically 
anti-Semitic,  that  the  Jews  were  historically  responsible  for  the  murder  of 
Christ.  In  defense  of  Freud,  she  asserted  that  Freud  did  not  reduce  all  of 
man's  activity  to  primitive  instinctual  wishes;  nor  did  Freud's  theories 
denigrate  man's  higher  cultural  accomplishments,  simply  because  he 
understood  the  roots  of  culture  in  the  repression  and  Sublimation  of 
primitive  urgings. 

To  be  sure,  Freud  reacted  more  negatively  to  the  Siegfried  fantasy  than  did 
Jung.  He  instructed  Spielrein  to  break  her  dependency  on  Jung  by  Coming  to 
Vienna  and  by  entering  into  analysis  with  him.  Even  after  her  marriage. 
Spielrein  remained  pathologically  attached  to  Jung,  Freud  thought.  This 
suggested  self-hatred  on  her  part,  a  masochistic  identification  with  her  anti- 


30- 


-31- 


Semitiraggressor.  When  threatened  or  enraged,  Freud,  too,  proved  unable 
to  resist  thc  vocabulary  of  the  chosen  people:  "My  wish  is  for  you  to  be  cured 
completely.  1  must  confess,  after  thc  evcnt,  that  your  fantasies  about  thc 
birth  of  the  Savior  to  a  mixed  union  did  not  appeal  to  me  at  all.  Thc  Lord,  in 
that  anti-Semitic  period,  had  him  born  from  the  superior  Jewish  racc.  But  I 
know  these  are  my  prejudices."  (pp.  116-117).  Freud  repeatedly  rcfcrs  to 
Jung,  nastily,  in  the  letters  to  Spielrein  as  her  "Germanic  hero."  Part  of  bis 
hatred  for  Jung  was  associated  with  Jung's  Aryan  posturings  and  bis  racial 
arrogance;  he  unsubtly  invited  Spielrein  to  make  the  same  choice  as  he  had 
made:  "I  imagine  that  you  love  Dr.  J.  so  deeply  still  because  you  have  not 
brought  to  light  the  hatred  he  merits." 

Despite  Freud's  words,  Spielrein  clung  to  her  poetic  ideas  about  generating 
a  Siegfried.  Upon  learning  of  Spielrein's  pregnancy,  Freud  attempted  to 
shatter  her  Wagnerian  phantasm  with  irony:  "I  am,  as  you  know,  cured  of 
the  last  shred  of  my  predilection  for  the  Aryan  cause,  and  would  like  to  takc 
it  that  if  the  child  turns  out  to  bc  a  boy  he  will  develop  into  a  stalwart 
Zionist."  Only  a  fanatical  Jewish  nationalist,  by  implication,  could  combat  a 
hostile  anti-Semite.  As  a  psychoanalyst  and  as  a  Jew,  Freud  was  convinced 
that  one  had  to  recognize  and  ultimately  tosever  ties  with  one's  anti-Jewish 
enemies.  He  located  Jung  in  thc  lattcr  camp,  asserting  that  Jung  belongcd 
there  characterologically;  nor  would  be  respond  to  scientific  or  logical 
reasoning.  No  wishfui  fantasy  about  a  blond  hero  could  rc-recruit  Jung  to 
the  psychoanalytic  cause.  Mixing  bittcrncss,  resignation,  and  rcalism,  Freud 
did  not  mince  bis  words  to  Spielrein:  "Wc  are  and  remain  Jews.  Thcothers 
will  only  exploit  us  and  will  never  understand  or  appreciate  us." 

After  the  birth  of  Spielrein's  daughter,  Freud's  Icttcr  of  congratulation 
mingied  joy  with  anger:  "Now  we  can  think  again  about  thc  blond  Siegfried 
and  perhaps  smash  thc  idol  before  bis  time  comes."  It  is  not  implausiblc  to 
read  in  Freud's  last  letter  to  Spielrcin,  dated  9  February  1923,  supporting 
her  move  to  Russia  —  "Lastly,  you  will  bc  on  home  ground"  —  a  tacit 
approval  of  her  return  to  her  Jewish  origins.  Just  as  returning  to  Russia  may 
have  represented  her  way  of  liberating  herseif  from  her  idealization  of  Jung, 
so  it  may  have  been  her  subjectivc  way  of  accepting  her  Eastern  Jewish 
roots,  culture,  and  environment. 

The  Spielrein  correspondence  is  not  thc  only  place  whcre  Freud  denounced 
Jung's  anti-Semitism.  He  once  accused  Jung  of  "lies,  brutality,  and  anti- 
Semitic  condescension  towards  me."  Except  for  those  partisans  of  thc  Anti- 
Defamation  League,  it  may  seem  a  bit  one-sidcd  to  accord  so  much 
importance  to  Jung's  anti-Jewish  opinions  in  bis  break  with  Freud. 
Spielrein,  however,  feit  the  issue  to  be  quite  central.  Her  stance  "between" 
Freud  and  Jung,  between  "two  stools  "  as  Freud  dubbed  it,  mcant  straddling 
different  methods  of  theory,  research,  and  clinical  practice,  but  above  all, 
divergent  political  and  moral  orientations. 


Regarding  splits,  Freud  took  the  position  that  in  most  instances 
reconciliations  were  unproductive.  Adversaries  had  to  be  so  designated, 
dilutcrs  had  to  bc  opposed,  crude  misinterpreters  had  to  bc  jettisoned,  or  at 
least  labcled  popularizcrs  or  vulgarizers.  Freud's  originality  as  a  thinkcr,  bis 
strength  as  the  founder  of  an  international  movement,  partially  consisted  in 
bis  ability  to  name  things  that  stare  us  in  thc  face.  He  assigned  names  that 
made  these  things  visible,  their  meaning  could  then  bc  dcciphcrcd.  He  was 
against  mediators  if  they  significantly  altered  what  was  unique,  especially  if 
they  made  dissimilar  things  thc  same. 

Spielrein's  creativity  was  as  such  a  mediator.  She  attempted  to  fuse 
opposites,  to  discount  specificity,  and  to  obscure  difference,  in  order  to 
achicvc  a  union  of  psychological  theorics  and  techniques  of  analysis. 
Spielrein's  strivings  for  integration  may  have  dcrivcd  from  her  inability  to 
accept  endings,  her  incapacity  to  toleratc  Separation.  Equally  important, 
however,  was  her  need  for  affirmation.  To  counter  the  destructiveness  she 
cncountcred  in  lifc,  to  offset  Jung's  personal  sadism  toward  her,  to  balance 
thc  cruel  sexual  attraction  of  thc  anti-Semitic  Jung  for  thc  beautifui  and 
brilliant  Jewess,  to  rcvcrsc  thc  violation  of  thcir  clinical  and  professional 
rclationship,  she  creatcd  mythical  linkages,  an  ccumenical  vision,  which 
nullificd  contradictions.  Instead  of  succumbing  to  her  own  destructive 
wishcs,  instead  of  floundcring  in  thc  morass  of  Jung's  deccit,  she  became 
fascinated  by  thc  symmetries  between  Jung  and  Freud,  disregarded  the 
asymmetrics,  inventing  in  the  process  a  language  of  harmony  and  unity. 
Who  knows  if,  in  thc  long  run,  Spielrein's  thrust  toward  wholeness  may 
have  born  fruit? 


LOS 
ANGELES 

PSYCHOANALYTIC 

BULLETIN 


VOL.  2,  Nq.  l 


1983 


SEPTEMBER 


BOOK  REVIEW:  A  Secret  Symmetry:  Sabina  Spielrein 
Between  Jung  And  Freud,  Aldo  Carotenuto,  ed., 
Reviewed  by  David  James  Fisher,  M.D. 


32 


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THE  CHOICE  OF  A  NAME: 

"DORA"  AND 
FREUD'S  RELATIONSHIP 

WITH  BREUER 


Hannah  S.  Decker,  ph.d. 


V..   -. 


FREUD  EXPLAiNEi)  IN  Tlic  Psychopat/iology  of  B:vcryday  Life 
(1901b)  why  he  had  given  the  name  "Döra"  to  his  adolcsceiu 
patient,  Ida  Bauer  (Rogow,  1978).  "Dora"  was  thc  name  takcn 
by  a  nursemaid,  Rosa,  who  worked  for  his  sister,  who  was  also 
named  Rosa.  To  prevcnt  confusion  in  the  houschold,  the  inaid 
had  to  take  another  name  and  had  chosen  "Dora."  So  Freud,  in 
searching  for  a  name  for  a  girl  whose  real  name  could  not  be  used 
in  a  case  history  meant  for  publication,  diought  of  thc  plight  of 
the  nursemaid  who  could  not  use  her  name.  Moreover,  addcd 
Freud,  a  governess  (nursemaid)  employcd  in  his  paticnt's  housc 
had  affccted  her  lifc.  Thus  it  was  that  Ida  Bauer  became  the  now 
famous  Dora. 

Freud  had  no  difficulty  or  hcsitation  in  choosing  the  name 
Dora.  He  wrote  (1901b):  "It  might  have  bcen  expectcd-and  I 
myself  expectcd-that  a  whole  host  of  womcn's  namcs  would  bc 
at  my  disposal.  Instcad,  one  name  and  only  onc  occurrcd  to 
me~  thc  name  ^Dora"'  (pp.  240-241).  Dora  was  clearlv  W^M"  I 

/  CT) 

wouId  like  to  suggest  that  Freud'5  strong  conviction  of  thc 
suitability  of  the  name  was  fuclcd  by  yct  another  circumstancc. 

113 


MMMh««»a^ 


1J4 


HANNAH  S.   DECKER 


Sclf-analyscs  havc  unavoidablc  shortcomings,  a  fact  of 
which  Freud  himself  became  aware.  As  an  old  man,  he  re- 
markcd:  "In  sclf-analysis  ihc  danger  of  incompleteness  is  partic- 
ularly  grcat.  One  is  too  soon  satisfied  with  a  part  explanation, 
behind  which  resistance  may  casily  bc  keeping  back  something 
that  is  more  important  perhaps"  (1935,  p.  234).  We  will  never 
know  if  the  foliowing  is  "more  important,"  but  it  is  certainly  of 
some  intcrest  for  its  possible  connection  with  Dora's  naming,  for 
the  view  it  aHords  of  Freud's  relationship  with  Josef  Breuer,  for 
the  light  it  sheds  on  cases  of  hysteria  100  years  ago,  and  for  its 
illustratioii  of  the  complex  nature  of  the  physician-paticnt  rela- 
tionship. 

Freud  knew  a  real  Dora  vvho  was  the  identical  age  as  Ida 
Bauer- Dora  Breuer,'  the  daughter  of  his  former  collaborator, 
Josef  Breuer  (Polloek,  1968;  Ellenberger,  1970;  Hirsehmüller,' 
1978;  Rogow,  1978).  Therc  is  a  great  deal  of  evidence  to  .sug- 
.gest   the   likehhood    that    Ida    Bauer  was  named   after   Dora 
Breuer,  in  addition  to  being  named  after  Freud's  sistcr's  nunse- 
niaid.  Breuer,  as  is  well  known,  was  a  physiologist  and  highiy 
respected  Vienne.se  internist  who  had  befriendcd  Freud  eariy  in 
his  career  and  who  had  co-authored  the  Studies  on  Hysteria 
(1893-1895)  with  him.  Breuer  contributcd  significantly  to  the 
development  of  psychoanalysis  by  acquainting  Freud  with  his 
hypnotherapeutic   treatment   of  a   young  hysterical   woman, 
"Anna  O.,"  the  pseudonym  for  Bertha  Pappenheim,  who  be- 
came the  first  German  social  worker.  Indeed,  the  case  history  of 
Anna  O.  is  the  first  chapter  of  Studies  on  Hysteria. 

There  are  remarkable  similarities  in  the  lives  of  both 
Brcucr's  Anna  O.  and  Freud's  Dora.^  Both  girls  wcre  from 
upper-middle-class  Jcwi.sh  families,  did  not  get  on  well  with 

'Both  girls  wnc  l,orn  in  lOü'i,  IJorn  Breuer  on  March  1 1  and  Ida  Bauer  on 
-November  I     .Vl.,r<-ov,r.  1  r<ud  ihouglii  that  Dora  Breuer  was  hörn  "shorlly  after" 
June   nsa2,  thus  hnng.ng  ihc  two  birth  daics  cvcn  closer  toi^ether  in  his  inind  f  E  L 
l'rciid,  1%0.  p.  2(i(i).  '  \ 

'.'Jörne  of  the  inforuMli-in  nlwut  Anna  O.  in  this  papcr  has  only  recenily  been 
...ade  puDhr  by  Hir.M  hn.Olie.  (1!>7H).  Thus.  for  the  first  tirnc.  a  comparison  bctween 
the  two  cascs  hccoincs  jx;:\sil)I{\ 


iin'h'«i>Ma: 


^.•^tJU*iX.. 


\-  <m*fM:urinmu-M-'MCbm'itt*.^f** 


THE  CHOICE  OF  A  NAME 


115 


r  .\ 


their  mothcrs,  had  a  brothcr  very  dose  in  age  whom  they  dis- 
liked,  doted  on  and  were  indulged  by  their  fathers,  had  fathers 
with  tubcrculosis,  were  concerned  with  their  father's  illness, 
were  educated  above  their  expected  level  of  activity,  and  pre- 
sented  initially  with  the  same  Symptom,  a  hysterical  cough. 
Both  also  suffered  from  a  facial  neuralgia.  Additionally,  Anna  O. 
and  Dora  may  have  experienccd  hysterical  childbirths;  Freud 
certainly  believed  this  to  be  so  for  both  young  women. 

Each  case,  respectively,  was  a  tumultuous  evcnt  in  the  lifo 
of  Breuer  and  Freud,  marking  or  coinciding  with  substantial 
milestoncs  in  their  personal  and  professional  activities. 
Moreover,  a  central  feature  of  each  case  was  the  unrecognizcd 
transference  and  countertransference.  In  both  instances  this 
culminated  in  Breuer  and  Freud  rejecting  the  requcsts  of  their 
patients  to  be  taken  back  into  treatment. 

Transference  and  Conniertrmmjcrence  in  the  Case  of  Anna  0, 

Josef  Breuer  was  most  probably  Anna  U/s  faniily  physician, 
and  beforc  her  family  called  on  him  to  treat  her,  he  had  already 
been  caring  for  her  father,  who  was  suffering  from  tubcrculosis 
(Hirschmüller,  1978).  Breuer  treated  Anna  O.  from  Novem- 
ber, 1880  until  June,  1882,  sometimes  seeing  her  as  often  as 
once  or  twice  a  day.  There  is  some  disagreement  on  the  nature 
of  the  transference  that  ensued,  but  these  few  facts  are  known: 
Therc  were  times  in  the  treatment  when  Anna  O.  recogni/.ed 
no  one  but  Breuer,  ate  only  when  Breuer  fed  her,  drastically 
worsened  when  Breuer  had  to  leave  for  several  days,  would  not 
talk  to  Breuer  until  shc  knew  it  was  indeed  hc  by  fecHng  his 
hands,  and  refused  to  give  her  history  to  a  coopcrating  physi- 
cian. 

In  addition,  based  on  information  Freud  said  he  got  from 
Breuer  plus  his  own  reconstruction,  Freud  (1925,  p.26) 
declared  in  his  autobiography  that  Anna  O.  had  developed  \i 
condition  of 'transference  love,'"  and  he  told  Ernest  Jones  (1953) 
and  Stefan  Zweig  (E.  L.  Freud,  1960)  that  this  culnnnatcxl  in  a 


jevmrv-' -r^ 


ne 


HANNAM  S.  DECKER 


hystcrical  childbirth.  Whcn  faced  with  this  event,  Breuer 
"retired  in  dismay,"  according  to  Freud  (1925,  p.  26).  The  story 
of  Breuer  and  Anna  O.  has  recendy  bcen  closely  cxamined  by 
Hirschmüller  (1978),  who  had  access  to  hitherto  unused  docu- 
mcnts.  On  that  basis,  Hirschmüller  argues  that  transference 
and  countertransference  did  not  affect  the  Anna  O.-Breuer 
relationship  and  certainly  not  its  conclusion.  Hirschmüller  like 
Ellenberger  (1970,  1972)  before  him,  also  corrccts  several  inac- 
curacies  publishcd  by  Freud  and  Jones  regarding  the  lives  of 
Bertha  Pappenheim  and  Dora  Breuer. 

This  historiographic  controversy,  it  seems  to  me,  does  not 
substantially  affect  the  discussion  here.  Even  if  the  precise 
events  of  Breuer's  termination  of  the  treatment  remain  in 
dispute,  two  significant  facts  remain  clear.  One  is  that,  after  a 
ycar  and  a  half  of  intensive  treatment,  sometimes  including 
twice-daily  visits  from  Breuer,  there  had  to  be  a  transference. 
The  socond  is  (hat  Breuer  was  not  aware  of  the  transference,  or 
at  most  recognized  it  only  at  the  end  of  the  treatment,  if  Freüd's 
Story  is  accurate.  As  to  that  accuracy,  there  is  no  way  to 
disprovc  Frcud's  contcntion  bccausc  it  is  known  that  Breuer 
wrotc  only  a  modified  version  of  Anna  O.'s  illness. 

Not  only  did  Breuer  not  recognizc  the  transference,  but  his 
countertransference  remaincd  at  an  unconscious  level.  Yet, 
there  is  considerable  evidence  of  the  countertransference. 

At  the  time  Breuer  began  caring  for  Anna  O.  he  was 
thirty-eight  years  old  and  a  well-known  and  sought-after  private 
practitioner.  He  was  a  Privaldozenl  (somewhat  akin  to  a  modern 
lecturcr  or  instruc(or)  in  internal  mcdicine  at  the  University  of 
Vienna  medical  school  and  had  ambitions  to  rise  to  a  professo- 
nal  rank.  Earlier  in  his  carcer,  he  had  carried  out  significant 
rcscarch  with  Ewald  Hering  on  the  regulatory  apparatus  of 
breathmg,  and,  while  he  was  seeing  Anna  O.,  he  was  lecturing 
and  giving  demonstrations  at  the  medical  school  on  mcthods  of 
clinical  investigation  and  therapy.  He  was  married  and  the 
father  of  four  childicn. 

Anna  O.  was  a  well-cducatcd,  very  intelligent,  physically 


\im   'nifri  iiii»aV  in-iitj!W'ift';ikiiija^i.t> 


Lu 


.'j  i-. . 


THE  CIIOICE  OF  A  NAME 


117 


attractivc,  and  unmarried  woman  oftwenty-onc.  It  is  |)robably 
significant  for  the  countertransference  that  Anna  O/s  real 
name  — Bertha- was  also  the  name  of  Breuer's  mothcr  and  his 
eldest  daughter.  Breuer's  mother  had  died  when  she  was  about 
twenty-six  and  Breuer  himself  was  two  or  three  (her  exact  date 
of  death  is  unknown  and  extant  sources  are  in  conilict  over 

Josefs   age  when   she  died).   Breuer  did  not  remember  his 
mother,  but  he  knew  her  tombstone  said  that  she  had  died 

"adorned  \im  Schmuck]  with  youth  and  beauty"  (Hirschmüller, 
1978,  p.  22).  Pollock  (1968)  postulates  that  Bertha  Pappen- 

heim's  youth  and  attractivencss  may  have  aroused  Breuer's 

repressed  longings  for  his  young  mother. 

At  any  rate,  Breuer  chose  to  begin  his  case  history  with  an 

empathic  and  vivid  portrait  of  an  appealing  personality  who 

contained  within   hcrself  the  "powerful   instinct^'  to  care   for 

others.  He  wrote: 

She  was  markedly  ftuelligent,  with  an  astonishingly  quick 
grasp  of  things  and  penctrating  intuition.  She  possessed  a 
powerful  intellect  which  would  have  been  capable  of  di- 
gesting  solid  mental  pabulum  and  which  stood  in  necd  of 
it.  .  .  .She  had  great  poetic  and  imaginative  gifts,  which 
were  under  the  control  of  a  sharp  and  critical  common 
sense.  .  .  .  One  of  her  essential  traits  was  sympathetic  kind- 
ness.  Even  during  her  illness  she.  .  .look[ed]  aftcr  a  num- 
ber  of  poor,  sick  people  [thus  beingj  able  to  satisfy  a  power- 
ful instinct.  .  .  .The  dement  of  sexuality  was  astonishingly 
undeveloped  in  her.  The  patient,  whose  lifc  bccamc  known 
to  me  to  an  extent  to  which  one  person's  life  is  seldom 
known  to  another,  had  never  been  in  love.  .  .  .This  girl, 
who  was  bubbling  over  with  intellectual  vitality,  led  an  ex- 
tremely  monotonous  existence  in  her  puritanically  minded 
family  [Breuer  and  Freud,  1893-1895,  pp.  21-22]. 

Within  two  wecks  of  being  called  to  treat  her,  Breuer  was 
seeing  her  every  day.  Though  he  considered  the  possibility  of 
her  having  a  tubercuhir  mcningitis,  he  dropped  this  theory  in 


«*ir  ?*>..>'*  -«^j 


V  •»« 


^>'a«if.tjEUtt «.  jxju:-jt 


T^^y^W-'K-s:- 


yi^- 


1'18 


■  -  ^•^-ittii.^.ip-.  .■■«rf.:    -t  -f  tmi.\'_LL. 


■»<■' 


HANNAH  S.  DECKER 


favor  of  his  original  diagnosis  of  hysteria  (Hirschmüller,  1978). 
But  daily  Visits  to  hysterical  women  were  not  routine  medical 
practice.  Breuer's  unusually  frcquent  medical  visits  to  Anna  O 
must  be  Seen  as  part  of  the  countertransference.   It  is  true 
Breuer  was  known  as  a  conscientious  and  sympathetic  physi- 
cian,  yet  his  intensive  involvement  with  Anna  O.  was  most 
probably  ovcrdctcrmined.  Not  only  was  there  his  attraction  to 
the  young  Anna  O./ßertha,  but  he  was  very  likely  drawn  by 
Anna  O.'s  upsct  ovcr  her  father's  illness  and,  later  on,  her  gricf 
over  her  father's  death.  This  death  may  well  have  aroused  in 
Breuer  unconscious  mcmories  of  his  own  feelings  over  the  losscs 
of  his  mothcr  (Pollock,  1968)  and  of  a  younger  brother,  who  had 
died  seven  years  earlier  of  tuberculosis,  the  same  disease  that 
killed  Anna  O.'s  father. 

The  countertransference  was  further  manifest  when  Anna 
O.  bccamc  suicidal  about  six  months  after  Breuer  bcgan  seeing 
her.  Breuer  did  not  wish  to  stop  treating  her,  but  he  knew  she 
should  be  hospitalizcd.  The  usual  way  to  handle  a  well-to-do 
woman  would  be  to  send  her  away  to  a  Sanatorium.  Breuer  com- 
promiscd.  In  June,  1881  he  had  her  moved  to  a  cottage  on  the 
grounds  of  a  nearby  Sanatorium,  but  she  was  not  listed  as  a  pa- 
tient  and  remaincd  undcr  his  personal  care  (Hirschmüller,  1978) 
Meanwhile,  discord  had  developed  between  Breuer  and 
his  wife,  Mathilde,  either  over  the  frequency  of  Breuer's  Visits  to 
Anna  O.  or  the  intensity  of  his  involvement  with  her.  Freud 
wrote  to  his  future  wife,  Martha  Bernays,  who  was  a  friend  of 
Anna  O.  (the  Pappenheims  and  the  Bernays  knew  each  other) 
that  Mrs.  Breuer  was  apparently  jealous  of  the  relationship  be- 
tween   her   husband   and   his   mcdically   demanding   patient 
CJones,  1953).  Bora  Breuer,  born  six  years  after  her  ncxt-oldest 
brothcr-and  the  last  of  the  Breuer's  five  children-was  con- 
ceived  in  June,  1881,  at  or  right  after  the  time  Breuer  decided  not 
to  ho.spitahzc  Anna  O.  but  to  keep  on  treating  her.  Clearly  this 
was  an  emotionally  difTicult  time  in  the  individual  lives  of  both 
Breuer  and  his  wife  as  well  as  in  their  marriage.  Freud  must 
havc  stressed  the  dclicate  nature  of  events  to  his  fiancee,  be- 


THE  CHOICE  OF  A  NAME 


119 


cause  she  wrote  back  to  him  saying  she  hoped  nonc  of  Freud's 
patients  would  ever  fall  in  love  with  him  (Jones,  1953).  Many 
years  later,  in  a  letter  to  the  Swiss  psychiatrist,  August  Forel, 
Breuer  wrote: 

At  that  time  I  learned.  .  .  something  of  practical  iin- 
portance.  .  .  namely,  that  it  was  impossible  for  a  "general 
practitioner"  to  treat  a  case  of  that  kind  without  bringing 
his  activities  and  mode  oflife  completely  to  an  end.  I  vowed 
at  the  time  that  I  would  not  go  through  such  an  ordeal 
again  [Cranefield,  1958,  p.  319]. 

If  Freud  was  right  about  the  dramaiic  event  of  Anna  O.'s 
hysterical  pregnancy,  we  would  havc  to  include  Breuer's  fiigjit 
from  her  bedside  as  another  example  of  the  countertransference. 
If  indecd  the  scene  nevcr  occurrcd,  there  are  still  .sorne  rather 
remarkable  subsequcnt  events.  After  a  year  and  a  half  of  treat- 
ment,    Breuer's   patient  .remaincd   ill.    Ry   March,    1882   sJie 
developed,  among  other  .Symptoms,  a  trigeminal  neuraigia,  and 
she  had  become  a  morphine  addict  as  well.  In  June  stili  lü'rthor 
Symptoms  appeared.  Now,  at  last,  she  had  to  be  hospitalizcd. 
She  remained  at  a  Swiss  Sanatorium  for  three  months,  but  whcn 
she  was  ready  to  leave,  Breuer  refused  to  take  her  back  as  a  pa- 
tient (Hirschmüller,    1978).   Although  he  continued  to  treat 
hysterical  patients,  he  never  again  uscd  the  "cathartic"  method 
of  treatment  he  had  evolved  with  Anna  O.  Breuer's  withdrawal 
both  from  Anna  O.  and  from  his  pioneering  course  of  therapy  is 
a  further  example  of  his  countertransference.    It  is  possiblc 
that  the  very  same  factors  that  created  Breuer's  fascination  with 
Anna  O.'s  ca.se  eventually  repelled  him.  "The  Anna  O.  rel.ntion- 
ship  was  threatening  on  scveral  counts:  the  dangerous  revival  of 
reprcssed  oedipal  conflicts,  of  rcpressed  mourning  for  the  dead 
mother,    and    of  ambivalent    feelings   toward    his    [younger] 
brother"  (Pollock,  19G8,  p.  725).  Breuer's  mother  had  died  at  or 
after  the  birth  of  this  brother,  the  same  one  who  later  died  of 
tuberculosis. 

Final  instanccs  of  the  countertransference  can  be  .seen  both 


-Tf77Tf^lt^r£V'n<i3/*.t  .AWi.Tiri^nciB.Tjiw?; 


I20 


HANNAH  S.  DECKER 


in  Bicuci's  rcluctancc  to  publish  the  case  history  (hc  was  pushcd 
to  it  by  Freud)  and  in  thc  actual  account  itself.  The  case,  as  it 
appcars  m  Studics  on  Hyslcria  (1893-1895),  contains  neither  the 
Information  that  Anna  O.  was  still  ill,  and,  indeed,  had  devel- 
opcd  new  Symptoms  toward  the  end  of  the  treatment,  nor  the 
fact  that  she  was  quite  sick  for  many  years  afterward,  although 
the  circumstances  were  well  known  to  Breuer. 

Certainly  during  the  turbulent  months  he  was  caring  for 
Anna  O.,  Breuer  was  unaware  of  both  the  transference  and 
countertransference.  Perhaps  at  the  end  of  the  treatment  and  in 
subsequent  years,  he  gained  some  awareness  of  the  transfer- 
ence, and  much  later,  in  writing  to  Forel,  has  some  insight  into 
his  own  emotional  involvement,  although  he  never  recognized 
thc  effects  such  involvement  had  on  the  treatment. 

Transference  and  Countertransference  in  the  Case  o/Dora 

Thc  issue  of  lack  of  recognition  of  the   transference  while 
treating  a  young  hysterical  woman  is  significant  because  Freud, 
in  the  threc  months  hc  saw  Dora  (October-Decembcr,  1900),' 
also  had  an  incomplete  awareness  of  the  transference,  even 
though  by  that  timc  he  had  already  written  on  the  subject. 
Freud's  slowness  in  fully  comprehending  the  various  phenom- 
ena  of  the  clinical  transference  had  to  do  partly  with  the  fact  that 
his  own  analysis  was  a  self-analysis.^  Therefore,  it  did  not  end 
in  the  manner  of  modern  analyses,  by  which  the  analysand  rec- 
ognizcs  and  works  through  the  transference  to  his  own  analyst. 
Rather,  Freud  discovered  transference  phenomena  pieccmeal 
through  clinical  work.  The  case  of  Dora  was  but  one  step  in 
Freud's  evolution  of  the  concept. 

Like  Breuer,  Freud  trcated  the  patient's  father  before  car- 
mg  for  the  daughter,  though  in  this  case  the  father  had  Syphilis. 
While  treating  Dora,  Freud's  recognition  of  her  transference 

'Kohut  (1976,  p.  4n(;)  ev<-n  pc.Mulatcs  that  "Freud-.,  sdf-analysis  was  not  a  sclf- 
thcrapcutic  c.xpcnrncc  but  ratlicr  the  crowning  achicvcmcnt  of  his  cn-ative  gcnius." 


Im'x-  ■  w.^^.^-^\^'^.^^^^  iMmA  III 


'  itw^^'-fwmmbt'^mk.  ^i 


'^'^M^tffAbA^ttiM  ^ 


THE  CHOICE  OF  A  NAME 


121 


was  limited  to  thc  awareness  that  shc  identified  him  with  her 
father  in  a  negative  way,  suspecting  both  mcn  of  not  bcing 
honest  and  straightforward  with  her  (Freud,  1905a).  Moreover, 
he  did  not  make  use  of  this  knowledge  in  the  psychother- 
apy.  Only  after  the  treatment  endcd  did  Freud  bccomc  aware 
that  Dora  had  also  transferred  her  negative  fcehngs  — "her  crucl 
impulses  and  revengeful  motives"- toward  Herr  K.  onto  him. 
Never,   however,  did   Freud   recognize   Dora's  positive  trans- 
ference from  both  her  father  and  Herr  K.,  an  Omission  which 
left   him   believing  that  the  only  reason  Dora   had   left   thc 
treatment  after  just  three  months  was  out  of  "revengc,"  i.e.,  by 
denying  Freud   the   time   necessary   to   help   her,   Dora   was 
demonstrating  to  him  his  "helplessncss  and  incapacity"  (p.  120). 
In  truth,  as  has  been  shown  (MusHn  and  Gill,  1978),  Freud 
barely  acknowledged  Dora's  sexual  interest  in  him  and  never 
brought  up  the  matter  with  her.  It  seems  likely  that,  with  her 
abrupt  departurc,  Dora  ^vas  also  floeing  from  what  she  uncon- 
sciously  perceived  as  a  seduction  (Bios,  1972;  Muslin  and  Gill 
1978). 

So,  Freud  (1905a,  p.  1 18),  like  Breuer,  "did  not  succeed  in 
mastering  the  transference  in  good  time."  Similarly,  the  coun- 
tertransference remained  unconscious.  There  is  no  evidence 
Freud  had  come  to  any  explicit  realization  of  the  countertrans- 
ference by  1900  when  he  first  saw  Dora,  nor  even  by  1905  when 
her  case  history  was  finally  published.  It  was  not  until  1910  that 
Freud,  reporting  to  his  colleagues  on  innovations  in  technique, 
stated  he  had  "become  aware  of  the  'countertransference,'  which 
arises  in  [the  physician]  as  a  result  of  the  patient's  infiucnce  on 

his  unconscious  feelings No  psychoanalyst,''  Freud  (1910) 

succincdy  observed,  "goes  further  than  his  own  complexes  and 
internal  resistances  permit"  (pp.  144-145). 

Thc  "Fragment  of  an  Analysis  of  a  Case  of  Hysteria"  is 
laden  with  evidences  of  Freud's  countertransference,  some  of 
which  have  been  previously  documented  (Längs,  1976;  Mar- 
cus, 1974;  Muslin  and  Gill,  1978;  Spiegel,  1977).  These  atti- 
tudes  and  reactions  become  clearer  when  we  look  at  some  of  (he 


v.'w;7T*i»ri«r7r.' 


"iJW^n 


1.22 


»ii--,.:*:^  *A-~. •■ifcr,:a'  -'iir  Mh  i  ><  .^--i^.^^.  -j^hjjflif.^. , ., .,  |, 


'«WmjUaI« 


il»ltM.  ■■ 


HANNAH  S.   DECKER 


THE  CHOICE  OF  A  NAME 


123 


issucs  aiul  cvcnts  (liat  wcrc  uppcrrnost  in  Frcud\s  rnind  in  thc 
months  surroundinir  his  trcatmcnt  of  Dora.  Throughout,  throb- 
l)ing  likc  a  basso  conlinuo,  was  thc  accclcratiiig  disintcgralion 
of  Frcud\s  fricndship  witli  his  confidant,  Wilhelm  Flicss.  71iis 
dctcriorating  rclalionship  evoked  unconscious  memorics  of  thc 
issues  involvcd  in  Freud's  estrangement  from  Breuer,  and  was 
thereby  connected  with  Freud's  naming  of  Dora.  So  the  very 
naming  was  part  of  the  countertransference,  but  I  will  discuss 
this  aspect  scparately  sincc  it  nceds  extensive  consideration. 

Freud's  predominant  mood,  in  the  months  hefore  he  began 
sccing  Dora,  was  onc  of  dcpression;  he  was  despondent  over  thc 
rcception  of  7'ke  Interpretation  of  Dreams,  pessimistic  about  what 
life  had  to  offer,  prcoccupicd  with  his  aging,  and  worried  about 
his  small  practice  and  limited  income.  In  March,  1900  he  wrote 
to  Flicss,  who  livcd  in  Berlin:  "You  know  I  have  been  going 
through  a  decp  inner  crisis,  and  if  we  met  you  would  see  how  \i 
has  agcd  me"  (Freud,  1H87-1902,  p.  314). 

Freud  had  unrcalistically  hoped  that  publication  of  the 
dream  book  would  bring  enthusiastic  and  widcspread  recogni- 
tion  of  his  genius.  The  response  to  The  Interpretation  of  Dreams 
was  actually  quite  good  (Bry  and  Rifkin,  1962;  Decker,  1975), 
but  nowhere  near,  of  course,  Freud's  expectations.  Moreover, 
he  nevcr  even  found  out  about  much  of  thc  positive  notice  the 
book  received  throughout  Gcrmany  (Decker,  1977).  Thus  he 
came  to  feel  that  the  understanding  of  his  theories  was 
"meager,"  and  he  interpreted  thc  praise  he  received  as  "acts  of 
charity"  (Schur,  1972,  p.  205).  Percciving  all  reviews  in  this 
way,  he  w^is  tormentcd  by  doubts  about  his  talcnts  and  about 
thc  value  of  his  work. 

'Fhc  publication  of  The  Interpretation  of  Dreams  and  Frcud's 
vicw  of  thc  rcception  coincidcd  with  and,  indeed,  was  probably 
partly  responsible  for  his  gloomy  appraisal  of  himsclf  at  middle 
agc.  l^hus,  at  New  Ycar,  1900  hc  feit  that,  "the  most  interesting 
(hing  about.  .  .thc  ncw  Century.  .  .for  us  is,  I  dare  say,  that  it 
contains  the  datcs  ofour  dcath"  (Freud,  1887-1902,  p.  307).  He 
saw  his  vitality  waning,  his  cigar  smoking  and  sexual  lifc  cir- 


cumscrlbcd,  and  on  his  forty-fourth  birlhday  hc  {xjitraycd 
himsclf  as  "a  rather  shabby  old  Jew"  (Freud,  1887-1902,  p.  319; 
Jones,  quoted  in  Roazcn,  1975).  Alniost  as  frequcnt  as  his  com- 
plaints  to  Flicss  about  thc  rcception  of  thc  drcam  book,  wcrc 
Freud's  anxious,  detailcd  reports  chronicling  the  startings  and 
stoppings  of  patients  (Freud,  1887-1902).  At  times  he  was  down 
to  three  or  four  sessions  a  day;  the  departure  of  any  patient  was 
a  fmancial  blow. 

The  circumstances  I  have  portraycd  do  not,  of  course,  ac- 
count  for  the  entire  r^nge  of  Frcud's  countertransference,  but 
they  do  enablc  us  to  vicw  some  of  Frcud's  reactions  in  a  broad 
perspective.  Although  by  the  time  Freud  began  treating  Dora 
hc  was  already  over  the  worst  of  his  dcpression  and  fcdings  of 
self-doubt,  he  seized  on  the  opportunity  offered  by  Dora's  two 
dreams  to  collect  additional  proof  that  thc  ideas  in  7hc  Interpreta- 
tion of  Dreams  had  indeed  been  correct.  Whilc  analyzing  Doi'a  hc 
was  also  looking  for-agd  found -cvidcncc  for  his  theories  of 
thc  instinctual  hasis  of  infantile  and  childhood  scxuality  (Freud, 
1887-1902)  ultimatcly  to  be  published  in  the  77iree  Essays  on  the 
Theory  ofSexuality  (1905b)  and  in  "My  Views  on  the  Pait  Playcd 
by  Sexuality  in  the  Aetiology  of  the  Neuroses''  (1906).  Thus,  his 
research  interests  at  times  took  precedence  over  the  treatmcnt.'^ 
This  accounts  in  part  (though  obviously  not  wholly)  for  thc 
large  number  of  sexual  interpretations  made  to  Dora  and  for 
Freud's   conclusion   that   Dora   should   have   rcspondcd   with 
mature  sexual  excitement  at  fourteen  when  shc  feit  Plerr  K.'s 
pcnis  against  her. 

Freud  had  reactcd  cjuite  dilfercntly  to  an  earlicr  case  of 
attempted  seduction  at  a  time  when  hc  was  advocating  thc  sc- 
duction  theory  of  hystcria.  When  treating  Dora,  onc  of  thc 
"assumptions"  Freud  (1905a,  p.  31)  was  testing  was  his  rcviscd 
theory  of  infantile  sexuality.  It  is  possible  that  his  shift  from  thc 
seduction  theory  to  a  bclicf  in  the  instinctual  basis  for  chilcihood 

^Frcud  (1912,  p.  1 14)  latcr  aclviscd  against  such  a  priorily  sirur  Vascs  whidi 
arc  dcvotrd  from  thc  first  to  scirntific  purposts  and  arc-  trcatcd  arcordirurlv  siiKVi  m 
thcir  outcnmc."  '   ' 


r'^w; 


•    .j*,^"»    V.t*T^.  ■'-      •        *    _      ■   ■»'». 


>i.m*mä,<*f»m"tu'-miii^*^  • 


124 


HANNAH  S.   DECKER 


scxuality  aUbctcd  Ins  attitiidc  toward  Doras  initial  sexual  cn- 
counter  vvith  Herr  K.  Six  or  more  years  before  he  psycho- 
analyzcd  Dora,  Freud  had  brielly  treated  "Katharina^'  (Breuer 
and  Freud,  1893-1895),  a  girl  whose  father  had  attempted  to 
seduce  her  vvhen  she  was  Iburtecn  and  who  then  at  sixteen  savv 
her  father  in  bed  with  her  cousin.  The  story  has  some  obvious 
parallels  with  Dora  s  experiences,  but  when  one  reads  Katha- 
rina's  case,  one  finds  that  Freud  was  sympathetic  to  Katharina's 
sexual  predicaments  in  a  way  he  was  not  to  Dora's.  With  regard 
to  Katharina,  Freud  spoke  of  "the  horror  by  which  a  virginal 
mind  is  overcome  when  it  is  faced  for  the  first  time  with  the 
World  of  sexuality."  He  hoped  he  had  helped  Katharina,  "whose 
sexual  sensibility  had  becn  injured  at  such  an  early  age"  (Breuer 
and  Freud,  1893-1895,  pp.  127,  133).  But  when  Freud  (1905a) 
treated  Dora,  he  believed  that  "a  hcalthy  girl  under  such  cir- 
cumstances  [an  attempted  seduction]  certainly  would  have.  .  . 
feit  fa]  genital  Sensation"  (p.  29);  when  a  girl  did  not  rcspond 
vvith  j)assi()n,  she  was  "entirely  and  completely  hysterical"  (p. 
28).  üne  wonders  whether  Freud  expected  a  diffcrent  sexual 
response  from  Dora  than  he  had  from  Katharina  because  it 
would  Support  his  research  goal  of  establishing  a  theory  of  in- 
fantile sexuality. 

Freud's  outlook  at  niiddle  age  led  to  additional  unrecog- 
nized  countertransference  phenomena.  Although  Freud  stated 
he  was  not  going  to  further  the  causes  and  aims  of  either  Dora 
or  her  father,  Freud  did  take  Dora's  father's  side  to  the  cxtent 
that  he  was  sympathetic  with  the  father's  sexual  plight.  There 
are  in  the  case  history  frequent  references  to  a  man  "getting 
nothing'  from  his  wife.  When  Dora's  father  brought  Dora  to 
Freud,  he  told  Freud  he  got  nothing  out  of  his  wife.  In  making 
his  proposal  to  Dora  at  the  lake,  Herr  K.  told  Dora  he  got 
nothing  from  his  wife.  In  infcrpreting  to  Dora  her  love  for  Herr 
K.,  Freud  (1905a,  p.  70)  informed  Dora:  "So  you  are  ready  to 
give  Herr  K.  what  his  wife  withholds  from  him."  The  opposite 
therne  is  also  portrayed:  that  a  woman  can  get  what  she  wants 
from  a  man.  Freud  told  Dora  if  she  had  wanted  to  marry  Herr 


.*<•  r'ii)wMr-rfiii<n»itti  II  i>tt»>u7i 


THE  CHOICE  OF  A  NAME 


'■^mrt^-mmpf'' 


125 


K.,  Frau  K.  would  have  agreed:  "Your  father s  relatioiis  wiih 
Frau  K. . .  .  made  it  certain  that  her  consent  to  a  divorcc  could 
be  obtained;  and  you  can  get  anything  you  likc  out  of  your 
father"  (p.  108).  While  Freud  was  trcating  Dora,  he  also  was 
getting  either  very  little  or  nothing  from  his  wife,  and  thus  could 
empathize  with  the  Situation  of  Dora  s  father,  a  man  not  far 
from  him  in  age.''^  Some  of  the  recent  commentators  on  the 
Dora  case  have  been  critical  of  what  appcars  to  be  Freud's  tacit 
acceptance  of  the  pernicious  interfamilial  relationships  in  which 
Dora  was  enmeshed  and  of  the  conspicuous  way  she  was  being 
used  by  adults  to  further  their  own  ends.  Freud's  silence  on 
these  matters  is  more  easily  understood  if  seen  as  a  product  of 
his  identification  with  Dora's  father. 

Freud's  sympathy  with  Dora's  father  can  also  be  seen  in 
Frcud's  proposal  for  untangiing  the  complex  ties  betwccn  Dora's 
family  and  the  K.'s:  the  K.'s  should  get  divorced,  Dora's  father 
and  Frau  K.  would  contipue  their  affair,  and  Dora  could  marry 
Herr  K.  "The  scheme  would  by  no  mcans  have  Ixen  so  irnprac- 
ticable.  .  .this  would  have  been  the  only  possible  Solution  for  all 
the  partiesconcerned"  (Freud,  1905a,  p.  108).  But  it  wasclearly 
a  Solution  more  beneficial  to  Dora's  father  than  to  Dora. 

In  the  same  letter  (October  14,  1900)  in  which  Freud  in- 
formed Fliess  he  had  begun  treating  Dora,  he  also  told  him  he 
was  "collecting  material  for  the  psychology  of  everyday  life" 
(Freud,  1887-1902,  p.  325).  In  The  Psychopathology  of  Everyday 
Life,  which  appeared  ten  months  later  (August  1901),  F^rcud  rc- 
counted  an  incident  of  his  "accidental"  embrace  of  a  young  girl 

•Jones  (1955)  vvrotc  that  by  th(!  agc  of  about  rorty-five  Freud  ccascd  Jiaving  sex- 
ual rclations  with  his  wife.  As  carly  as  1897,  thcrc  are  hints  of  his  rcsirictcd  scxuality 
in  a  Icttcr  Freud  scnt  to  Flicss,  and  in  1900  hc  rcportcd.  "I  have  finishcc)  with  hogci- 
ting  children"  (Freud,  1887-1902,  p.  312).  VVc  know  that  Freud  considered  coitus 
intcrruptus  and  niasturbation  unhcalthy,  so  this  stalcment  implics  a  signilitant 
diminution  or  an  end  to  marital  relations.  Ali  this  is  somewhat  coniirmed  by  a  letter 
Jung's  wife,  Emma,  wrote  to  Freud  in  November  1911,  wherein  she  recalls  Frcud's 
Visit  with  the  Jungs  two  months  carlier.  Af  that  tiinc,  Freud  and  Knuua  Jung  sccni 
to  have  had  a  talk  about  Freud's  family,  and  he  told  her  (hat  his  "irjarriaqe  had  !fuig 
been  'amortized,'  now  there  was  nothing  more  to  do  cxeept—die''  (McGuire  r»71 
pp.  443,  4Jfi).  ^        •  '     •      ' 


•*-r;.-S?rTv»nrw 


'.KL    'J«bM.J 


126 


4.'.-iU'4tit*mii.il*  im^*uJ^^ 


■A4äte 


^"yi^i^te« 


HANNAH  S.  DECKER 


at  tho  Iioinc  of  Sonic  fricnds.  Mc  rclalod  liow  thc  girl  had  "arouscd 
a  fcding  of  picasuro  in  rm-  which  I  had  long  thought  was  cxtinct" 
(Fnnul,   IWil),  pp.   175-176).  So,  a(  ihc  titnc  hc  was  sccing 
Dora  it  was  quitc  possiblc  for  thc  middlc-agcd  Freud  to  havc 
liad  a  iibidinal  involvcmcnt"  (Muslin  and  Gill,  1978,  p.  324  ff.) 
with  Dora  and  to  havc  becn  unawarc  of  it.  Freud  ('l905a,  pp. 
20,  23)  had  found  Dora  at  cightccn  to  bc  a  girl  of  "intelligent 
and  cngaging  looks  [and]  intcllcctual  precocity."  We  know  that 
thc  subjcct  of  a  sexual  relationship  bctwcen  an  oldcr  man  and  a 
youngcr  woman  existed  in  Freud's  mind.  Thus,  onc  more  exam- 
plc  of  the  countertransference  was  Freud's  finding  "incompre- 
hensible'  Dora's  slapping  Herr  K.,  a  man  twice  her  age,  after  his 
proposal  to  her  at  the  lake.  To  Freud,  Herr  K.  was  «still  quitc 
young  and  of  prcpossessing  appearance,"  and  Freud  termed  the 
slap  a  "brutal.  . ; rcfusal"  (pp.  46;  29,  fn.  3;  38,  fn.  2). 

Finally,  as  mcntioncd  above,  Freud's  Iibidinal  involvement 
was  rcsponsible  for  his  vicwing  Dora's  suddcn  Hcpnrturc  solcly 
as  an  act  of  hostility  and  rcvcngc  and  not  sceing  that  she  was 
also  Ilecing  Crom  what  she  unconsciously  perccivcd  as  a  seduc- 
tion.  Pcrhaps  also  his  unconscious  attraction  to  Dora  helps  to 
cxplain  why  Freud  expected  her  to  rcact  with  the  passion  of  an 
adult  woman  to  Herr  K.'s  sexual  overtures. 

Other  instanccs  of  Freud's  countertransference  revolve 
around  his  anger,  though  elements  of  libido  are  involved-just 
as  somc  of  the  Iibidinal  factors  cited  above  includc  aspects  of 
hostihty.  Thcre  secm  to  have  been  three  main  sources  of  Freud's 
anger:  (1)  the  unavoidable  ambivalence  he  (as  well  as  other  con- 
temporary  physicians)  had  toward  hysterical  female  patients 
(Decker,  1981);  (2)  Dora's  abrupt  termination  at  a  time  when 
cvery   departing   patient   was   a   financial   affliction;   (3)   the 
premature  ending  of  a  case  that  was  restoring  Freud's  faith  in 
hmiself  and  in  thc  correctness  of  his  dieorics  and  was  providing 
additional  evidence  that  his  reviewers  had  indeed  underesti- 
matcd  him. 

Freud  found  Dora  to  be  a  difficult  patient,  as,  in  truth 
hysterical  womcn  of  thc  day  often  were.  He  complaincd  that  she 


THE  CHOICE  OF  A  NAME 


— i."WAilMW>^i,»<^ 


127 


was  a  "young  woman  of  very  indcpcndcnt  judgmciu,  who  had 
grown  accuslomcd  to  laugh  at  the  ellbrts  of  doctors"  (IQOfia,  p. 
22).  Mc  notcd  that,  in  the  coursc  of  (rcatmcnt,  slu;  ijrodua-d 
"somc  rcally  rcmarkable  achicvcmcnts  in  thc  direction  of  in- 
tolerablc  bchavior"  (p.    75).   As  a  rcsuk,   hc  had  not  "cornc 
through  thc  strugglc  unscathed"  (p.    109).  While  Freud  latcr 
recognizcd  that  Dora's  Icaving  trcatmcnt  was  part  of  thc  trans- 
ference,  his  initial  reaction  was  to  accusc  her  of  Icaving  delibcr- 
atcly  to  thwart  him:  "Her  brcaking  off  so  unexpcctcdly,  just 
when  my  hopcs  of  a  succcssful  termination  of  thc  trcatmcnt 
were  at  their  highest,  and  her  thus  bringing  thosc  hopcs  to 
nothing-this  was  an  unmistakable  act  of  vengcancc  on  her 
part"  (p.  109). 

Dora's  vengcancc  arouscd  Freud's.  Hc  madc  no  cfibrt  to 
kccp  her  in  psychoanalysis  and  argucd  that  hc  had  bc(>n  corrcct 
not  to  havc  "shown  a  warm  personal  intcrcsl  in  her"  (p.  !()<)) 
Rui  his  cxplanntion  was  ^l'-fcnsivc  and  somcwhat  cnig.natic: 

Sincc  in  cvery  casc  a  portion  of  thc  iactors  thal  aiv  cncoun- 
tered  under  the  form  of  resistancc  rcmains  unknown,  I 
have  always  avoided  acting  a  part,  and  have  contented  my- 

self  with  practising  the  humbler  arts  of  psycholog)' I 

keep  the  fact  in  mind  that  there  must  be  some  limits  set  to 
the  extent  to  which  psychological  influence  may  bc  used, 
•        and  I  respect  as  one  of  these  limits  the  paticnt's  own  will 
and  understanding  [p.  109]. 

When  Dora  reappeared  in  Freud's  office  more  than  a  ycar  latcr 
asking  for  help  for  a  facial  neuralgia,  hc  refused  to  takc  her  back 
mto  trcatmcnt.  "One  glancc  at  her  face"  convinced  him  that  "she 
was  not  in  earnest  over  her  request"  (pp.  120-121).  Freud  madc 
this  quick  assessmcnt  though  Dora  had  come  on  her  own  and  not 
unwilhngly  dragged  in  by  her  father,  as  in  thc  original  analvsis 
He  masked  his  revenge  by  claiming,  "I  do  not  know  what  kind  of 
help  she  wantcd  from  me,"  but  his  anger  rcvcalcd  itsclf  Nvhcn  hc 
"promiscd  to  forgivc  her  for  having  dcprivcd  fhim)  of  thc  satisfac- 
tion  of  [a]  radical  eure  for  her  troubles"  (p.  1 22). 


»»JH  ■  !W  Jir4*'  ■*!•  ,  »**■ ; 


128 


liANNAM  S.   DECKER 


•i'titii'iJbilUiämttLjkdmf^^ÜSklMtti^^t^JAiiMt 


'■'U^ 


-rjjf  •■«,-„,.,-        ^    •-«■<r»|.- 


t%)* 


..K%......  '^■■rn^fftamk'i 


The  cascs  ol'Dora  and  Anna  O.  arc  notable  lor  the  eom- 
plcx  nature  of  thc  transferences  and  countertransferences  and 
thcir  relative  or  cven  eomplete  obseurity  to  all  the  participants 
at  thc  time  of  trcatmcnt.  Morcover,  the  very  multiplicity  of  the 
transfercnce  and  countertransferenee  phenomcna  scrves  as  a 
reminder  of  the  ovcrdetermined  nature  of  all  physician-patient 
relationships,  not  only  those  stemming  from  psychoanalysis. 
After  all,  Breuer  treated  Bertha  Pappenheim  in  his  capacities  as 
a  family  physician  and  an  internist.  A  close  perusal  of  the  two 
eases  also  discloses  the  many  similarities  in  the  lives  and  ill- 
nesses  of  the  young  women  involved,  enticing  us  to  form  some 
generalizations  about  hysteria  in  the  late  nineteenth  Century 
(see  also  Krohn,  1978).  But  that  is  not  all  that  is  provocative. 
What  compels  our  interest  cven  further  is  the  fact  that  while 
Freud  was  troating  Dora  at  the  end  of  1900  and  writing  up  the 
case  in  thc  beginning  of  1901,  Breuer  was  never  far  irom  his 
niind.  In  oiiu-r  words,  (here  is  yet  more  that  links  the  rases  of 
Anna  O.  and  Dora. 

) 

« 

7'hc  Posthumous  Power  of  Josef  Breuer 

l'Veud  and  Breuer  had  for  many  years  enjoyed  a  mutually  satis- 
fymg  relationship  based  on  several  conscious  and  unconscious 
roles:  student/mentor;  bright,  poor  "comer'Vrespected,  estab- 
lished  patron;  younger  brother/older  brother;  and  son/father. 
They  also  became  friends  and  scientific  collaborators.  Although 
together  they  published  Sludies  on  Hysteria  (1893-1895),  Freud 
more  than  Breuer  was  the  motivc  force  of  this  venture  (Hirsch- 
müllcr,  1978).  After  the  book  appeared,  Breuer  made  it  clear 
that  while  he  admired  and  encouraged  Freud  in  his  endeavors, 
he  could  not  be  a  wholehearted  companion  on  the  paths  Freud 
\yas  detcrminedjy  pursuing  (Hirschmüller,  1978).  Freud  resented 
this  scientific  rejcction  and  allowed  a  distancc  and  eventually  a 
certain  anger  to  develop  (Jones,  1953).  By  the  time  Freud  was 
treating  Dora,  the  two  mcn  were  virtually  estranged. 

Freud's  ambivalcnce  toward  Breuer  can  alrcady  be  .secn  in 


I  m^mtu  i'l  '■■  ,(<,mtt^^ 


.  j»>Wi 


".i 


TUE  CHOICE  OF  A  NAME 


129 


Ins  lamuus  dream  of  "Irma's  injection"  wlnch  look  place  ovci-  the 
night  of  23-24  July  1895  at  a  summer  resort,  the  villa  Bellevue 
rhis  was  a  bare  two  months  after  the  appearance  of  thc  Sludies 
ontiystena.  The  circumstances  surrounding  the  dream  of  Irma-s 
injection  are  an  uncanny  harbinger  of  events  and  feelings  occur- 
nng  five  years  later  when  Freud  treated  Dora.  There  is  a  direct 
Ime  from  Irma  to  Dora  based  on  Freud's  anger  at  Breuer,  his 
acknow  edgment  of  Breuers  experience  with  Anna  O.,  and  his 
desire  that  Breuer  approve  of  his  work  with  hysterical  patients 
There  are  also  some  similarities  between  the  case  of  Irma  and 
that  of  Dora.  Irma  was  a  young  woman  (a  wido^v),  who  was 
Freuds  pat.ent  as  well  as  a  friend  of  Freud  and  his  family 
There  were  transference  and  countertransferenee  problems  in 
the  treatment  owing  to  Irma's  friendship  with  the  Freuds    (In 
Dora  s  case,  too,  some  of  the  transference  and  counterfransier- 
ence  phenomena  can  be  traccd  to  Freud's  treatment  or  acquain- 
tance  with  various  memlMys  of  Dora's  family  as  well  as  wi,h 
Herr  K.)     reud  (1900)  wrote  of  his  therapemic  relauonship 
with    rma:  I  proposed  a  Solution  to  the  patient  which  she  seemed 
unwilling  to  accept.  While  we  were  thus  at  variance,  we  had 
broken  olf  the  treatment  for  the  summer  vacation"  (p    106) 
Freud  called  Irma  «disobedienf  and  "recalcitrant  to  treatment  ^ 
and  wished  she  had  been  more  like  a  friend  of  hers-anothe'r 
woman  he  knew-whom  he  imagined  would  have  been  more 
cooperative  and  «told  fhim]  more"  (pp.  1 10-113,  passrm).  Thus 
Dora  shared  with  Irma  what  Freud  saw  as  a  certain  negativism' 
and  he  was  annoyed  at  them  both. 

Now,  one  day  during  the  summer  break  of  1895  Freud 
concluded  that  a  friend  (Dr.  Oskar  Rie),  who  was  acquaintcd 
with  h.s  family,  Irma,  and  Breuer,  had  hinted  that  Freud  had 
not  done  all  he  should  have  for  Irma.  Stung  bv  this  seeming  re- 
proach  Freud  sat  down  that  very  night  (the  night  before  (he 
dream)  and  wrote  a  copious  account  of  his  treatment  of  Irma 
with  the  Intention  of  giving  it  to  Breuer  so  as  to  justifv  liimself 
Gnnstem  (1968,  p.  31)  rightiy  suggests  that  Freud  wan.ed 
Breuers  judgment  on  the  case  because  of  his  experience  with 


130 


HANNAH  S.   DECKER 


Anna  O.  "Freud  may  have  feit  that  of  all  pcoplc  Breuer  vvould 
certainly  bc  the  one  to  understand  the  kind  of  problems  that  his 
pationt  Irma  vvould  have  as  well  as  the  kind  of  problems  with 
vvhich  the  psychotherapist  would  be  confronted  in  this  kind  of 
Situation."  In  the  dream,  indeed,  Freud  (1900,  p.  107)  had  the 
Breuer  figure  ("Dr.  M.")  repeat  his  own  "examination"  of  Irma 
and  eonfirm  it. 

Freud,  as  his  own  Interpretation  of  the  dream  revealed, 
also  wanted  to  ehastise  Breuer  for  not  joining  him  in  his 
psychologieal  method  of  treating  hysteria.  In  the  dream,  Freud 
had  Dr.  M.  make  some  nonsensical  Statement  so  that  he  would 
appear  foolish.  Freud  (1900)  explained  that  he  "was  expressing 
derision  at  physicians  who  are  ignorant  of  hysteria"  and  also 
feeling  superior  to  Breuer  for  not  Spotting  a  hysteria  in  a  patient 
he  was  treating  for  tuberculosis  (this  happened  to  be  Irrna's 
friend,  the  woman  Freud  thought  would  have  been  a  more  co- 
operative  patient).  In  short,  as  Freud  put  it:  "I  had.  .  .revenged 
myself  in  this  dream  on.  .  .Dr.  M.'*  (p.  115). 

Now,  \ve  ean  move  alu^ad  five  years  to  1900,  the  year  Freud 
treated  Dora.  That  summer,  Freud  spent  his  vacation  in  the 
same  place  where  he  had  the  dream  of  Irma's  injection  and  even 
recalled  the  event  in  a  Ictter  to  Wilhelm  Fliess  (Freud, 
1887-1902).  Then,  in  October,  Dora  came  to  him  for  treatment 
and  he  began,  at  the  same  time,  collecting  the  examples  that 
were  to  end  up  as  The  Psychopathology  of  Everyday  Life.  An  anec- 
dote  concerning  Breuer  immediately  found  its  way  into  the  sec- 
tion  on  the  forgetting  of  impressions.  Freud  (1901b)  explained 
how,  in  an  attempt  to  locate  a  familiär  shop  that  sold  strong- 
boxes,  he  walked  the  streets  of  central  Vicnna,  where  he  knew 
the  shop  was,  but  was  unable  to  find  it.  Hc  then  looked  in  a 
trades  directory  and  immediately  spotted  the  störe  he  had  been 
unable  to  locate.  It  was  on  the  very  same  street  as  the  building 
of  "the  M.  family"  with  wliom  Freud  had  had  an  "intimate 
friendship"  that  had  given  way  to  "a  total  estrangement."  Freud 
explained: 

On  my  walk  through   the  town   in  search  of  the  shop- 
window  with  the  strong  boxes  I  had  i)assed  through  every 


liWi  riftw twim"  Tifitüf» ii n ir irtiTÜi  H^mutm^HUHLiXlsm^^ 


THE  CHOICE  OF  A  NAME 


131 


IM 


Street  in  the  district  but  this  one,  which  I  had  avoided  as  if 
it  were  forbidden  territory.  The  motive  of  unpleasure  re- 
sponsible  in  the  prcsent  case  for  my  failurc  to  find  my  way 

is  easy  to  recognize My  aversion . .  .  applied  not  to  the 

safe-manufaeturer  I)ut  to  another  pcrson,  whorn  I  did  not 

want  to  think  about There  was  a  sccond  connection 

thcrc,  one  involving  its  subject  matter,  for  nioney  playcd  a 
part  among  the  reasons  for  my  estrangement  from  the 
family  living  in  the  building  [pp.  137-138]. 

The  "M.  family,"  of  course,  was  the  Breuer  family,  and  the 
"aversion.  .  .  to  another  person"  was  the  hostility  tojo.sef  Breuer. 
Money  was  an  issue  between  Freud  and  Breuer.  Breuer  refused 
to  be  repaid  some  money  he  had  lent  Freud  when  he  was  young 
and  poor,  and  Freud  resented  this,  sceing  it  as  a  way  Breuer 
had  of  keeping  him  in  an  inferior  position.  Moreover,  in  the 
same  month  Freud  began  seeing  Dora,  he  had  a  dream  which 
he  interpreted  as  dealing  ^ith  a  man  to  whom  he  had  been  in 
debt;  Freud  (1901a,  p.  638)  feit  he  had  "paid  dearly"  for  the  use 
of  the  man's  money. 

Thus,  simultaneously  with  treating  Dora,  Freud  was  re- 
calling  his  past  relationship  with  Breuer,  which  obviously  in- 
volved  the  case  of  Anna  O.  But  Freud's  dwelling  on  the  old 
friendship  and  collaboration  does  not  end  with  the  incidents  of 
the  strong-box  störe  and  the  dream  of  being  in  debt.  For  right 
bcfore  Dora  came  to  Freud,  and  continuing  into  the  fall  of 
1900,  Freud  was  plunged  into  rumination  on  his  relationship 
with  Breuer  and  its  continued  significance  for  him.  That  is 
because  Breuer  was  in  the  midst  of  treating  the  illncss  of 
Wilhelm  Fliess's  mother-in-law,  who  lived  in  Vienna,  and  Fliess 
and  Freud  corresponded  for  months  on  the  subject.  Freud's  feel- 
ings  and  reactions  at  this  time  have  to  been  seen  in  light  of  his 
deteriorating  relationship  with  Fliess.  This  inevitably  evoked 
memories  of  his  friendship  with  Breuer.  Freud  was  now  con- 
tcmplating  the  ruins  of  an  old  emotional  tic  at  the  same  time  as 
he  was  involved  in  the  disintegration  of  a  current  bond.  Sinte 
Fliess  did  not  agree  with  Breucr's  treatment  of  his  mothcr-in- 


1*52 


IMNNAH  S.   DECKER 


law,  Freud  had  thc  opportunity  of  vciitlng  Ins  slrong  ambiva- 
icncc  toward  Breuer  (Schur,  1972).  The  following  passages 
from  letters  to  Fliess  exprcss  the  deep  emotions  Breuer  still 
aroused  in  Freud,  in  spite  of  his  disclaimers: 

I  do  no  longer  despise  [Breuer].  I  have  feit  his  strength.  If 
he  is  dead  as  far  as  you  two  [Fliess  and  his  wife]  are  con- 
cerned,  he  is  still  exerting  his  power  posthumously.  What 
eise  is  your  wifc  doing  but  working  out,  under  a  dark  com- 
pulsion,  the  Suggestion  Breuer  planted  in  her  soul  when  he 
congratulated  her  on  the  fact  that  I  was  not  living  in  Berlin 
^     and  could  not  disrupt  her  marriage? 

And  later: 

As  far  as  Breuer  is  concerncd,  you  are  certainly  quite  right 
in  calling  hini  thc  brother.  However,  I  do  not  share  your 
conlenipl  for  fricndship  bctwcen  mcn .  .  ,  .  As  you  well  know, 
in  niy  lile  a  vvoman  has  nevcr  bcen  a  Substitute  for  a  coin- 
rade,  a  friend.  If  Breucr's  niasculine  inclination  wcrc  not  so 
odd,  so  faint-hearted,  so  contradictory .  .  .he  would  be  a 
beautiful  example  of  the  kinds  of  achievements  to  which 
the  androphile  current  in  man  can  be  sublimatcd  [Schur, 
1972,  pp.  216-217]. 

Although  the  incidents  of  looking  for  the  strong-boft  störe, 
dreaming  of  an  old  debt,  and  being  concerned  with  the  care  be- 
ing  received  by  Flicss's  mother-in-law  provide  the  strongest 
evidence  of  Freud's  continucd  thoughts  of  what  Breuer  meant  to 
him,  thcrc  werc  minor  events  as  well.  In  May,  1900,  five  months 
before  Dora  appearcd,  Freud  was  finally  able  to  hclp  a  patient 
Breuer  had  repeatedly  refcrred  to  him  for  treatment  over  the 
preceding  four  ycars.  PVeud  (1887-1902)  gleefully  rcported  to 
Fliess:  "She  told  mc  that  when  she  told  Breuer  of  her  extraordi- 
nary  improvcment,  he  clapped  his  hands  and  exclaimed  again 
and  again:  'So  he  is  right  aftcr  all!'"(pp.  319-320).  Then  while 
Freud  Was  einher  sreing  Dora  or  writing  up  the  case,  Breuer 
"pcstered"  him  to  deli\rf  a  Iccturc  before  the  Philosophical 
Society,  and  Freud  agreccl  tu  do  so  (p.  329). 


.     ifi'iViitüidfrii,  .    'i  rf.       ■'■-^^.Iv^rK-/^  ^nLh'wii.a.aj  I  JT 


THE  CHOICE  OF  A  NAME 


'.<t«*,'tmk  «■  >i4.iiM'>.>. 


133 


V* 


ßcforc  coiiclucliiig,  U  is  pcrtincnl  (o  notc  ilial  Freud  had 
named  twp  of  his  daughtcrs  after  Brcuer's  relatives.  His  first 
daughter,  Mathilde  (born  1887),  was  named  after  ßreucr's 
wife,  and  his  last  daughter,  Anna  (born  1895),  was  named  after 
Breuer's  daughter's  sister-in-law,  who  was  also  Freud's  patient. 
A  precedcnt  had  been  established. 

The  Overdderminahon  of  Dora's  Name 

When  Freud  (1925)  wrote  his  autobiography  at  sixty-nine,  he 
gave  thc  case  of  Anna  O.  a  very  distinctive  place  in  his  own  pro- 
fessional development:  "The  State  of  things  which  [Breuer]  had 
discovered  seemed  to  me  to  be  of  so  fundamental  a  nature  that  I 
could  not  believc  it  could  fall  to  be  present  in  any  case  of  hys- 
teria  if  it  had  been  proved  to  occur  in  a  single  one"  (p.  21). 
Thus,  when  troubled  by  a  difRcuIt  transfercnce-countcrirans- 
ference  Situation  in  (he  n^c  of  Inna,  Iic  Unncd  (o  Bnuer- 
Anna  O.'s  psyrhothcrapist-for  confirmation  of  liis  tiu-rapcutic 
procedure.  This  was  already  at  a  time  when  relations  bctwcen 
the  two  men  were  strained.  But  by  1901  matters  bctwcen  the 
two  men  stood  so  badly,  and  Freud  was  so  angry,  he  could  no 
longer  write  a  case  history  for  Breuer's  approbation.  Yet  that  hc 
unconsciously  wished  he  could  seems  entirely  likcly.  The  case  of 
Dora  had  great  similarities  to  that  of  Anna  O.  Freud,  as  the 
evidence  indicates,  kept  thinking  about  Breuer,  even  thöugh  he 
did  not  want  to  think  about  him.  Freud  had  derived  wide-ranging 
and  intense  satisfaction  from  his  fricndship  with  Breuer,  and 
Breuer,  as  Freud  admitted  to  Fliess,  was  a  man  who  could  "excrt 
...his  power  posthumously"  (Schur,   1972,  p.  216).  In   1900, 
Freud  was  still  excited  and  moved  when  he  rccei\'ed  a  report  that 
Breuer  recognized  his  theoretical  and  thcrapeutic  capacities. 

Although  it  is  a  speculation,  I  think  that  unconsciously  Freud 
wanted  Breuer's  continucd  approval,  that  he  was  awai-e  of  thc 
correspondences  bctwcen  Dora  and  Anna  Ü.,  and  (hat  tliese  ob- 
vious  correspondences  made  him  feel  even  morc  than  hc  had 
in  1895  that  Breuer's  scientific  desertion  was  "ridiculous"  and 
"nonsensical"  (Freud,  1900,  pp.  113,  114).  Combining  a  ir.nern- 


»134 


-  '■^H--|itTii  rtfiiii 


HANNAH  S.  DECKER 


brancc  of  past  namings,  a  wish  that  a  dead  fricndship  wcrc  still 
alive,  and  an  ironic,  nose-diumbing  gesture,  Freud  namcd  bis 
paticnt  in  part  aftcr  Breuers  daughtcr,  who  was,  after  all,  thc 
samc  agc  and  had  becn  conceivcd  (as  Freud  absolutely  believed) 
in  connection  with  niarital  dilliculties  brought  on  by  Breuer's 
trcatment  of  Anna  O. 

While  Freud  could  consciously  admit  bis  anger  at  Breuer, 
he  could  not  consciously  admit  bis  desire  for  their  continued 
fricndship.  Morcovcr,  hc  could  ncither  face  bis  feelings  about 
surpassing  Breuer,  wbo  bad  been  like  a  fatber  to  bim,  nor  con- 
front  ihc  libidinal  attachment  that  bad  existed  between  bim  and 
Dora.  These  were  the  resistances  that  may  bave  kept  bim  "satis- 
fied  with  a  part  explanation"  (Freud,  1935,  p.  234)  of  bis  choice  of 
the  name  Dora.  Eightcen  years  before,  when  Freud  and  Martha 
were  still  engaged,  Martha  had  written  to  bim  that  she  hoped  as 
Freud's  wife  she  would  never  be  in  the  Situation  where  a  patient 
would  be  in  love  with  her  busband.  Wbercupon  Freud,  still  living 
in  bis  fatbers  house,  l)li(brly  (old  her  not  to  worry:  Tor  that  to 
bappen  one  has  to  be  a  Breuer"  (Jones,  1953,  p.  225). 

Summary 

I  bave  suggested  that  Freud's  choice  of  the  pseudonym  Dora  for 
bis  eighteen-year-old  bysterical  patient,  Ida  Bauer,  was  over- 
determined.  Dora,  it  seems  likely,  was  named  not  only  after 
Freud's  sisters  nursemaid,  as  Freud  bimselfexplained,  but  also 
after   Dora   Breuer,  Josef  Breuer's   youngest   daughter.    Tbis 
theory  is  bascd  on  an  examination  of  the  similarities  in  the  lives 
and  Symptoms  of  Anna  O.  (Breuer's  famous  bysterical  patient  of 
1880-1882)  and  Dora;  on  an  analysis  of  the  transferences  and 
countertransferences  in  the  cases  of  these  two  young  women; 
and  on  evidences  of  the  persistent  significance  of  Josef  Breuer  in 
Freud's  life  aftcr  1895.  These  specific  inquiries  also  call  atten- 
tion to  tlic  nature  of  hysteria  at  the  end  of  the  nineteenth  Cen- 
tury and   to  the  ever-present  complexities  of  the  physician- 
patient  rclationship. 


THE  CHOICE  OF  A  NAME 


135 


■k 


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The  luf'-rnaticnal  Journal  ofClinUnl  and  Expcrinxental  Jlypnosis 
1977,  Vol.  XXV,  No.  2,  lOG-llS 


THE  CATHARTIC  METHOD  AND  THE 
EXPECTANCIES  OF  BREUER 

AND  ANNA  OJ 

M.  B.  MACMILLAN-"'' 

hUmash  Univcrsity,  Australia 

Abslracl:  Expectancies about  theconsequences of the suppression  of 
bchavior  and  about  the  effects  of  expressing  emotions  arc  proposed 
as  aources  of JjicJUalkmg  eure"  which  dcveloped  during  Breucr's 
treatment  of  Anna  0.  and^vHTch  later  became  known  as  tho  cathar- 
tic  mcthodL/Xlthoucli  the  argument  is  similar  to  one  proposed  by 
Ellenbcirgcr  (iÜ70,  U)72)  it  sets  out  a  more  rational  alternative  to  bis 
explanaiiorvthatttve  method  was  partly  a  creation  of  the  mytho- 
poetic  unconfHjiöUs.  The  analysis  of  the  tntüractiontrcTweoirBreucr" 
and  Anna  0.  mnkcs  explicit  the  expectancies  underlying  each  of  the 
Steps  through  which  the  cathartic  method  developed  and  traces 
thcse  expectancies  to  the  general  beliefs  and  the  specific  theoretical 
interesLs  shared  by  them. 

Authoritativo  accounUs  of  Breuer\s  treatment  of  Anna  O.  claim  or 
imply  that  Breuer  discovcrcd  a  genuine,  if  limited,  method  for  the 
treatment  of  hysterical  Symptoms  (Freud,  1910,  1925;  Jones,  1953). 
Breuer  seemed  to  have  observed  that  Symptoms  were  acquired  during 

^  Manuscript  submittx:d  April  10,  1976;  final  revision  received  October  12,  1976. 
Editor^s  Notc^This  manuscript  is  of  relcvance  to  the  Intcrnalionaf  Journal  not 
mcrely  bccavse  itprcsents  a  novd  historical  reconstruction ,  hut  rathcr  hccausc  it  uscs  a 
classic  case  to  dlustmtc  irnportant  issucs  of  immediatc  mcrit.  It  illustratcs  how 
apparcntly  specific  Ircatments  may  nonethclcss  bc  cffcctivc  in  largc  part  hccause  they 
rcsonatc  ivithjhcjhared  expectancies  ofthe  paticnt  andhis  therapist.  It  sugncsls  how 
such  cffccts  mifihl  hcT^^^TFonceptucUizcd  as  alo?m  of  placcho  r^ponse,  The  manu- 
script shows  how  cven  the  most  astutc  ohserver  may  inadvertcntly  help  crcate  the  data 
that  he  then  carcfully  recorrls  as  novd  cuidence  to  snpport  hus  cvolvin/'  theory.  The 
implicafions  of  this  manuscript  for  trcafmcnts  such  as  the  primal  scrcam  or  for 
obscrvations  such  as  rcgression  bcyond  birth  are  worthy  ofthe  rcadcr.s  considoration 
Jt  is  hoped  that  this  historical  rcanalysis  cf  the  gcrmiruil  case  frnni  which  modern 
dvnam.ir  psychintry  cvolved  may  scrue  to  wakc  cach  of  us  somcwhat  more  cautious 
about  Ou^kind  ofobrcrvations  rcquired  to  dncumcnt  our  hypothescs. 

•  An  cnrhor  v.Msion  of  tho  papor  was  prcsontod  at  tho  Aniiual  Conference  of  tho 
Australian  Psyclolo^'ical  Socioty,  1975. 

=  Heprinf  rcquosf.s  should  bonddrcsscd  to  M.  B.  Macmillan.  Dopartincnt  of  Psv- 
ch(?lnf:y,  Mona.-h  University.  Clayton,  Victoria.  3168,  Australia. 

^;  Tho  aulh.r  wi.hcs  (o  thank  Dr.  L.  Ryder  for  her  cncouraj^cmont  .-uid  criticnl 
assistTince  in  the  preparafinn  of  ihis  manuocript.  Ms.  P.  J.  Weir  for  Ih..  tranr-lations 
an:i  Prof;^se:or  [L  It.  n,.y  nnd  Dr,  D.  R.  F.  Irvinc  for  ihcir  commonls  on  an  cariy  drafl 
Of  'nc  papor. 

t06 


CATHARTIC  METHOD  AND  EXPECTANCIES 


107 


i 


cmotionally  charpcd  incidcnts  in  which  the  exprension  ofthe  affoi*' 
had  not  taken  place.  The  Symptoms  disnppcarcd  v/hen,  during  ihp 
patient's  autohypnoses,  those  incidents  were  relived  and  thcir  emo- 
tion givenBctatürt' verbal  expression.  That  expression  of  affect  was 
later  called  abreacliön  and  it  was  the  central  element  of  what  camc  to 

.    be  known- na  the  crrthartic  method  (Breuer  &  Freud,  1893,  1895). 
In  this  paper  it  is  argued  that  the  "talking  eure"  was  a  type  of  non- 

.^  specific  Suggestion  therapy  which  derived  its  therapeutic  effective- 
ness  from  the  shared  expectancies  of  Breuer  and  A.nna  0.  rather  than 
from  the  properties  ofthe  method  itself.  The  argument  develops  from 
Ellenberger's  (1970)  Observation  that  Anna  0/s  illness  resembled  the 
classic  spmnambulistic  illnesses  of  an  earlier  era  in  which  the  treat^:__ 
ment  rnethods  origTnated  from  the  initiative  of  patients  and  wero^ 
fostered  by  the  unaware  encouragement  of  therapists.  Analysis  ofthe 
'treatment  shows  that  the  initiative  and  encouragement,  at  each  of 
the  Steps  through  which  the  method  developed,  was  based  on  identifi- 
able  expectancies.  It  is  suggested  that  two  beliefs  probably  shared  by  ^ 
Breuer  and  Anna  O.  are  the  sources  ofthe  expectancies.  One  belief 
was  that  illness  could^be  caused  by  the  suppression  of  behavior  and-<;;" 

~fKe  other  was  the  belieTthat  a  calmer  mood  Would  föllowTfom  the  s^.^ 

— expreasiQni)Xthe^iotions  of  pity  and  terror.  The  Tust  of  these  beliefs 
is  identical  with  wliat  Ellenbergcr  (1066)  has  called  the  concopt  ofthe 


ff 


r 


pathogenic  secret  while  the  second  is  a  minor  adaptation  of  a  central 
tenet  of  Aristotle's'*  theory  of  the  tragedy. 

The  papcr  is  in  three  sections:  (a)  a  description  of  Breuer's  clinical 
observations,  (fc)  an  attempted  identification  of  the  sources  of  the 
talking  eure  through  an  analysis  ofthe  treatment,  (c)  and  a  discus- 
sion  of  the  implicat.ions  of  the  argument. 

The  Clinical  Observations 

Breuer^s  first  attendancc  upon  Anna  0.  was  for  a  nervous  cough 
which  had  developed  during  a  deterioration  in  pbysical  healtli  attrib- 
utcd  to  an  over-zealous  nursing  of  her  very  sick  father.  Only  minimal 
signs  of  hysteria  were  then  present:  momentav^qbsences  were  ob- 
served, during  which  she  would  stop  in  mid-sentonce,  repeat  her  last 
words,  pause,  and  then  go  on  speaking.  Anna  0.  did  not  know  what 
had  happened  during  the  abscnccs;  indecd,  she  seemed  at  ürst  only 


J 


partly  aware  of  themTMüch  later,  Breuer  was  to  reconstruct  the 
events  of  this  period  which  lasted  from  mid-July  to  about  December 
10,  1880.  It  had  begun  when  Anna  0.,  dozing  by  her  fathcr's  bedside, 
had  an  hallucination  of  a  snake  about  to  bite  him.  She  had  tried  to 
ward  off  the  snake  with  her  right  arm  which  had  gone  to  sleep  and 

^  Aristotle's  De  Poctica  is  the  specific  work  reforrcd  to  Ihroughout  th's  p;ip' 


'^r. 


>«»•  .*-   ^ii.amlti-1 


I  WJI'  t^^*    4t      'mMa 


-i  Jb- 


108 


M.  B.  MACMILLAN 


was  Virtual ly  pnralyzcd.  Whcn  ahe  lookod  at  her  fingcrs  thcy  liad 
turned  into  little  snakes  with  death's  heads.  After  the  hallucination 
had  vanished,  she  tried  to  pray  in  her  native  German  but  could  find 
only  English  words.  The  next  day,  the  hallucination  recurred  when 
she  saw^O^ent  branch.  That  revival  was  the  ürst  abscnce,  and  in  each 
-^  subscqüont -n/;.sc7ic(?  JJ-iere  was  a  repctition  of  the  hallucination. 
Breuer  later  supposed  that  around  the  hallucination  a  secondary 
State  of  consciousness  began  to  develop.  By  December  llth,  Anna  0^ 
was  so  ill  that  she  became  a  bed  patient  herseif. 

The  second  phase  of  the  illness  commenced  with  an  immediate" 
manifestation  of  two  distinct  states  of  consciousness,  headaches,  dis- 
turbances  of  vision,  a  convergent  squint,  paralysis  of  the  neck  mus- 
cles,  and  contractures  and  anaesthesias  of  the  arms  and  legs.  As  the 
illness  progressed,  the  absences  were  extended  until  the  secondary 
consciousness  became  more  stable.  A  complex  speech  disturbance 
manifcsted  itself  during  this  time:  Anna  O.  gradually  lost  the  power 
to  speak,  initially  only  in  grammatically  correct  German,  but  later 
she  was  unable  to  speak  at  all  for  2  weeks.  Breuer  (Breuer  &  Freud, 
1895)  hypothesized  that  the  speech-itJSS'wäs^due  to  her  being  "very 
much  offendcd  ovcr  somcthing  and  [that  shel  had  detormined  not  to 
speak  about  it  Ip.  25]."  As  the  original  case  report  indicates,  she  had 
bcen  "hurt"  by  soniething  said  or  donc  by  her  fathcr  (Ellenbcrger, 
1972).  Once  Breuer  had  "obliged"  her  to  talk  about  it,  she  regaincd 
her  power  of  speech  completely.  Similar  observations  were  made 
about  her  mood  changes.  During  her  daytime  absences  she  had  been 
observed  to  be  "obviously  creating  some  Situation  or  episode  to  which 
she  gave  a  clue  with  a  fcw  muttered  words  [Breuer  &  Freud,  1895,  Pp. 
28-291."  When,  in  the  evening,  she  "woke"  from  her  afternoon  sleep 
into  a  spontaneous  autohypnosis,  she  frequently  repeated  the  words 
^^tormenting,  tormenting."  An  observer,  now  repeating  the  mutter- 
mgs  of  the  äfternooirrcöutd  get  her  to  elaborate  a  story  in  the  style  of 
a  fairy-tale,  usually  involving  as  the  central  character  a  girl  sitting 
anxiously  by  a  sick  bed.  At  the  conclusion  of  the  story  she  woke  up 
completely,  now  feeling  "comfortable"  in  mood.  Breuer  encouraged 
her  to  teil  the  stories,  for  he  found  that  this  more  normal  state  lasted 
until  the  followiiig-day.  Concurrently,  her  physlcal  Symptoms  were" 
^omewhat  relieved. 

After  her  fatherijiea4;k4n-Apnl,  18^,  the  third  phase  of  the  illness 
tommenced.  Not  having  been  allowed  to  see  her  father  during  the 
previous  2  months,  she  was  totally  unprepared  for  his  death.  Two 
days  of  stu^rfoHovved.  More  Symptoms  developed:  human  beings 
appearedwax-lik'eand  could  not  be  difterentiated  from  one  another;  a 
pronounced  "negative  attitude"  developed  toward  her  relatives  and 


CATHARTIC  METHOD  AND  EXPECTANCIES 


109 


!.'•; 


she  now  lost  the  ability  tound(^£stnnd  German.  A  Consultant  who  had 
nScen  called  irnraslTorevcnperceived  until  he  blew  smoke  directly 
into  her  face.  This  forceful  breaking  down  of  her  negative  hallucina- 
tion caused  her  to  fall  to  the  ground  unconscious.  A  severe  anxiety 
attack  thcn  ensued.  Breuer  calmed  her  down  with  difficulty,  but  on 
his  next  visit  several  days  later  she  was  much  worse.  "She  had  gonc 
entirely  without  food  the  whole  time,  was  füll  of  anxiety  and  her 
hallucinatory^.aös(?nee5  were  filled  with  ieinrifyingjigures,  death's 
-heads  and  skeletons  [Breuer  &  Freud,  1895,  p.  27l?nBreüer  now 
observed  that  if,  during  her  autohyphoses,  she  could  be  persuaded  to 
talk  about  i^e^hallucinations  she  would  wake: 

clear  in  mind,  calm  and  chccrful.  She  would  sit  down  to  work  and  write 
or  draw  far  into  the  night  quite  rationally.  At  about  four  she  would  go  to 
bed.  Next  day  the  whole  series  of  events  would  be  repeated.  It  was  a  truly 
remarkable  contrast:  in, the  day-timc  the  irresponsible. patient  pursued  _ 
by  hallucinations*  and  at  night  the  girl  with  her  mind  completely  clear  . 
[Breuer  &  Freud,  1895,  Pp.  27-28]. 

Oyer  the  next  6  or-T-week&jis  the  two  states  of  consciousness  became 
more  separated,  Breuer  encouraged  her  to  talk  about  her  hallucina- 
tions  and  this  ensured  a  more  tol^rablc  mental  stato  for  at  loast  a  part 
of  each  day.  The  talking  had  little  other  offoct  on  the  mental  Symp- 
toms and  none  on  the  physical.  In  fact,  her  condition  so  detcriorated 
during  this  period,  with  suicidal  gcstures  becoming  so  frecpiciit,  that 
she  was  forcibly  transferred  to^^ei  Inzersdorrsänatorium  outsidc  of 
Vienna  on  July  12,  1881.  T    ("^     ^~" 


She  retui'ned  to  Vienna  itself  at  the  beginning  of  November.  With 
the  exception  of  a  5-week  period  in  July  and  August,  Breuer  saw  her 
daily  during  the  third  period.  After  her  return  to  Vienna,  she  ex- 
tended the  talking  method  to  some  bizan^e  behaviors,  not  reported  at 
all  in  the  published  account  of  the  case,  which  she  calkdjjer  'Taiicij^ 
(Ellenberger,  1972).  She  appears  to  have  talked  first  aboiit  the  orTgins 
of  her  fancy  of  stocking  wearing.  She  sometimes  woke,  quite  puzzlcd, 
to  find  that  she  was  in  bed  with  her  stockings  on.  It  transpired  that 
when  her  father  had  been  ill  and  she  had  been  forbidden  to  sco  him, 
she  had  put  her  stockings  on  to  withstand  the  cold  when  she  got  up, 
secretly,  to  listen  at  his  door  during  the  night.  She  was  now  putting 
the  stockings  on  during  an  absence  before  going  to  bed.  This  fancy  of 
stocking  wearing  ceased  after  she  recalled  its  origin.  Recollccting  the 
origins  of  her  other  Symptoms  was  similarly  effective.  The  ürst  which 
v/as  overcome  was  an  inability  to  drink.  She  recalled  that  she  had 
once  been  disgustcd  that  her  lady-companion's  dog  had  bcen  allowed 
to  drink  from  a  glass: 


110 


M.  B.  MACMILLAN 


CAtHARTIC  METHOD  AND  EXPECTANCIES 


111 


Tlio  pn(iont.  hnd  snid  nothinf^  ns  sbo  hnd  wantod  to  ho  polito.  Aflcr  giving 
further  energetic  cxpression  to  the  anger  shc  had  hcld  back,  she  asked 
for  somclhing  to  drink,  drank  a  large  quantily  of  water  without  any 
difficulty  and  woke  froni  her  hypnosis  with  the  glass  at  her  lips;  and 
thereupon  the  disturbance  vanished,  never  to  return.  A  number  of 
extremely  obstinato  whims  vvere  similarly  removed  afler  she  had  de- 
scribed  the  cxperiences  which  had  given  rise  to  them  [Breuer  &  Freud, 
Pp.  34-35]. 

The  disappearance  of  this  Symptom  seems  to  have  marked  the  end  of 
the  third  phase  of  the  illness  and  the  beginning  of  the  fourth. 

During  the  fourth  period  a  quite  remarkable,  almost  unique,  fea- 
ture  of  the  disorder  appeared.  Breuer's  "great  surprise"  at  the  reHef  of 
the  inabiHty  to  drink  was  foUowed  by  his  systematic  exploitation  of 
Anna  0/s  willingness  to  talk  about  her  fancies  and  her  Symptoms. 
Endeavoring  to  clear  up  the  remaining  Symptoms,  he  found  that  most 
of  her  evenings  were  being  spent  in  reUving  the  events  ofthat  same 
lay  365  days_earHer.  According  to  Breuer,  entries  in  her  niothgr!s_ 


ITThep 

_fbr  6  months,  until  June,  1882,  inclusive.  Breuer  had  to  contend  with 
mcmories  of  two  kinds:  those  of  1882  and  öf  the  corresponding  day  iH- 
1881.  Two  scts  of  rccollcctions  were  now  required  in  order  to  recon- 
struct  the  chronology  of  the  many  appearances  of  each  symptom. 
Because  of  this  complexity,  Breuer  decided  to  hypnotize  Anna  0.  to 
obtain,  not  recollections,  but  a  list  of  all  the  circumstances  under 
I  which  each  symptom  had  manifested  itself  (Breuer  &  Freud,  1895,  p. 
Ä«6).  Even  with  the  list,  the  process  of  recoUection  was  laborious.  She 
'f|recalled,  for-e.xample^30^  instances  where  she  had  failed  to  hear 
somcthing  said  to  her.  "TKcse  were  classified  into  sevcn  separate-- 
gToups:  108  instances  when  she  had  not  heard  someone  come  into  the 
room,  27  instances  of  not  understanding  when  several  people  were 
talking,  and  so  on.  Each  instance  had  to  be  correctly  ordered  to  its 
gi'oup  and  then  to  its  correct  part  of  the  sequence  and  relived  in 
reverse  order  before  the  symptom  disappeared.  Central  to  these  recol- 
lections was  the  hallucinatory  image  of  the  snake  about  to  bite  her 
father.  Its  recall  ended  the  fouilh  phase  of  the  illness.  According  to 
the  1895  account  shc  was  now  cured  (Breuer  &  Freud,  1895). 

Within  5  weeks,  however,  she  had  relapscd,  and  a  fifth  period,  not 
described  in  Breuer's  later  account,  commenced^  On  July  12^882, 
Anna  0.  was  admittcd  to  the  Sanatarium  Bellevue  in  Kreuzlingelir 
Switzerland,  where  she  romained  until  October  29,  1882  (EUenber- 
ger,  1972).  AUhough  Breuer's  original  notes  had  claimed  a  **great 
allevintion,"  n»uch  pathology  was  still  present  during  her  stay  at  the 
Bellevue.  Hystcrical  fcatures,  spcech  disordersralternations  of  con- 
^cicusness,  and  a  facial  neuralgia  described  only  in  the  original  cäse 


•  •• « 


' 


notos,  were  still  present.  Not  surprisingly,  sho  was  described  ns 
making  **disparaging  judgments  against  the  ineffcctiveness  of  science 
in  regard  to  her  suflerings  [Ellenberger,  1972,  Pp.  277-278J."  Her 
Symptoms  were  apparently  unchanged  on  discharge.  Where  she  then 
went,  and  by  what4öeansjshe.^:asfinally  relieved^her ^jmiptoms is 
not  known.  However,  some  time  before Uiencnd^f  the  1880\s  shc  was 
Symptom  free.  She  then  commenced  a  quite  notable  career;  she  is  now 
regarded  in  Germany  as  the  founder  of  the  profession  of  social  work. 

SOURCES  OF  THE   TaLKING   CuRE 

Reliving  of  the  events  producing  the  Symptoms,  what  Anna  0. 
named  "the  talking  eure,"  has  long  been  recognized  as  the  esscnce  of 
Breuer's  treatment  method.  Nevertheless,  thcre  is  much  confusion 
about  the  details  of  the  method  and,  until  quite  recently,  a  failure  to 
appreciate  either  the  nature  or  implications  of  Anna  O.'s  contribu- 
tion.  As  will  be  seen,  Anna  O.  not  only  invented  the  talking  eure:  she 
dominated  and  directed  treatment  from  the  beginning.  Afler  having 
been  ''obliged"  to  speak  of  the  hurt  done  to  her  by  her  father,  she 
extended  the  talking  procedure  through  the  fairy-tale  stories,  to  the 
hallucinations,  and  finally  to  the  origins  of  the  fancies  and  Symp- 
toms. Analysis  shows  that  the  Virst  two  of  these  steps  providcd  the 
foundation  for  the  others. 

Breuer  (Breuer  &  Freud,  1895)  believed  that  Anna  O.  had  deliber- 
ately  decided  not  to  speak  to  her  father.  He  assumed  that  that 
voluntary  suppression  of  speech  had  generalized: 

As  I  knew,  she  had  feit  veiy  much  offendcd  over  somcthing  and  had 
dctcrmined  not  to  speak  about  it.  When  I  guessed  this  and  obliged  her  to 
talk  about  it,  the  inhibition,  which  had  madc  any  othcr  kind  ofuttcrance 
impossible  as  well,  disappeared  [p.  25,  author's  italics,  M.B.M.]. 

His  treatment  strategy  was  based  upon  the  expectation  that  by 
overcoming  the  specifically  suppressed  behavior  a  more  general  efTect 
would  result.  Had  Breuer  not  had  that  expectation  there  would  have 
been  no  point  in  his  obliging  Anna  0.  to  speak.  Anna  0.  had  some- 
how  communicated  to  Breuer  both  her  feeling  of  ofTense  and  the 
deliberateness  of  her  decision  not  to  speak.  Breuer^s  response  to  that 
communication  set  into  motion  the  therapeutic  train  of  events. 

Breuer's  response  seems  too  consistent  with  what  Ellenberger 
(1966)  has  called  the  concept  of  the  pathogenic  secret  for  it  to  have 
been  merely  idiosyncratic.  From  eai'liest  times  and  in  many  forms  of 
Society,  illnesses  of  all  kinds  have  been  seen  both  as  resulting  from 
unexpfessed,  secret  ideas  and  as  being  curahlc  through  the  expres--^ 
sion  of  the  sccrat.  By  tho  time  Breuer  came  to  treat  Anna  Ö.,  the 
concept  was  well  established  in  religion,  literature,  and  criniinology, 


112 


M.  B.  MACMILLAN 


as  well  as  in  Iho  specializcd  litcraturo  on  hypnosis  and  hystcria. 
Ellenberger  specifically  mentions  a  recognition  of  the  concept  in  de 
Puyscgur  (cited  by  Ellenberger,  1966)  and  its  explicit  use  by  the 
Viennesc  physician,  Moritz  Benedikt  (cited  by  Ellenberger,  1966),  as 
the  fundamental  principle  of  his  method  of  treating  hysteria. 
Breuer  s  first  stop  in  the  treatnient  of  Anna  O.  was,  thercfore,  con- 
sistent  with  a  body  of  belief  that  the  general  speech  function  would  be 
restored  once  the  specific  sccret  had  been  uncovered.  Anna  0.  may 
well  have  sharcd  this  belief,  sincc  it  was  not  restricted  to  medical 
circles;  in  any  case,  she  created  a  Situation  which  requested  just  that 
Step  from  Breuer. 

The  second  step  in  the  treatment  was  Anna  0/s  telling  of  the  fairy 
stories.  Each  story  was  bascd  upon  a  Situation  which  she  had  *'ob- 
viously"  created  earlier  during  thejlay,  each  required  the  presence  of 
another  person  to  repeaTsome  ofthe  words  from  that  earlier  Situation 
if  Anna  O.  was  to  elaborate  the  story,  and  her  general  mood  was  more 

imfortable^-öfterwards,  although  her  Symptoms  were  unchanged. 
Aristotle's  theory  of  catharsis  seems  tq  h^e  been  a  major  influence 
upon  this  Step.  Ellenberger  (1970)  citefe  Dalma  a^  having  shown  that 
an  onormous  intcrost  in  catharsis  and  the  drama  had  arisen  in 
Vienna  after  the  publication  of  a  book  on  catharsis  by  Bernays  in  1880 
(cited  by  Ellenberger,  1970)  — the  very  year  Anna  O.'s  illness  had 
begun.  That  gonoral  interest  together  with  the  specific,  and  pro- 
nounced,  theatrical  interests  of  Anna  O.  and  Breuer  could  have 
created  a  set  of  shared  beliefs  about  the  effects  of  story  telling.  And 
those  effects  would  have  been  to  calm  only  the  general  mood  and  not 
to  alter  the  Symptoms.  Partly  for  this  reason,  Aristotle's  theory  is  a 
strenger  candidate  for  the  source  of  this  second  step  than  for  the 
cathartic  method  as  a  whole,  as  Ellenberger  has  proposed. 

Aristotle's  theory  had  required  the  characters  of  a  tragedy  to  be 
moved  by  fear  and  pity  so  that  the  watching  audience  would  be 
purified  ofthose  two  emotions.  While  in  the  De  Poetica  Aristotle  did 
not  define  what  was  to  be  understood  by  purification,  it  is  clear  that  it 
was  taken  to  mean  some  kind  of  vicarious  discharge  ofthose  emotions 
in  the  audience.  Anna  O.'s  days  were  filled  with  hallucinatory  fears, 
her  eveni ng  stories  with  pity  for  the  poor  nursing  girl.  To  a  thcatri- 
cally  orientcd  ponson,  it  might  not  have  seomcd  stränge  that  express- 
ing  or  dischargiijg  evon  one  of  these  emotions  through  a  story  would 
benefit  a  general  emotional  State;  Breuer  was  just  such  a  person. 
Quite  apart  from  Bornays'  book  or  his  own  general  cultiu*al  back- 
ground,  Breuer  had  a  special,  highly  de>^oped,  interest  in  the  Greek_ 
drama(M^yt:«rn92S).  He  could  hardly  have  been  ignorant  of  Aristo- 
TTeVtTTcory.  Anna  O.'s  repctition  ofthe  word  *'tormenting"  came  to 


i'^fjkjC:^--' 


CATHARTIC  METHOD  AND  EXPECTANCIES 


113 


reprcsont  a  Suggestion  that  she  be  allowed  to  follow-up  the  Situation 
or  episode  "obviously  created"  during  the  daytime  absence.  Once  the 
prompt  ofthe  words  muttered  during  the  absence  was  provided,  Anna 
0.  responded  with  the  lines  from  her  "rehearsal."  Breuer's  expecta- 
tions  then  allowed  for  the  elaboration  of  a  calming  story. 

Anna  O.'s  own  expectations  would  at  least  have  matched  Breuer's. 
She  was  a  person  of  considerable  culture  (Jensen,  1970)  who  conceiva- 
bly  knew  of  Bernays'  book  directly  and  who  had,  on  the  evidence  of 
her  later  writing,  a  pronounced  theatrical  talcnt.  Long  afler  her 
treatment  with  Breuer,  she  wrote  stories  and  plavs  in  which  pity  for 
the  central  character  was  the  dominant  motif  (Jensen,  19J70iJKarpe 
1961).  ThereAva&y  in^ddllibn,  a  möre  direct  connection.  In  response  to 
being  restricted  to  an  extremely  monotonous  life  by  her  puritanically- 
minded  family: 

She  embellished  her  life  .  .  .  by  indulging  in  systematic  day-drcanüng, 
which  she  described  asjißr^jnxata-thaatre'.  While  everyone  thought  she 
was  attending,  she  was  living  through  fairy  tales  in  her  imagination 
[Breuer  &  Freud,  1895,  p.  22]. 

Her  therapeutic  story  telling  was  little  more  than  another  Perform- 
ance in  this  private  theatre,  Jhis  time  with  herseif  as  audience 
watching  the  melodrama  ofthe  pitiful  girl  fearfully  nursing  her  sick 
fathcr. 

The  medical  and  other  literature  of  the  time  devoted  to  altered 
States  of  consciousness  might  also  have  led  Breuer  to  think  ofthe  two 
States  of  consciousness  — so  prominent  from  the  second  stage  of  Anna 
O.'s  illness  onwards  — in  theatrical  terms  and  therefore  as  modifiable 
by  catharsis.  For,  although  the  number  of  cases  of  what  would  now  be 
regarded  as  instances  of  multiple  personality  reported  in  the  litera- 
ture was  not  more  than  five  or  six,  the  amount  of  discussion  gener- 
ated  by  them  was  considerable  (Sutcliffe  &  Jones,  1962;  Taylor  & 
Martin,  1944).  The  discussion  was  not  limited  to  formal  case  reviews 
in  the  medical  literature;  in  the  nineteenth  Century  such  casos  were 
thought  to  be  especially  relevant  to  such  questions  as  the  natui'e  of 
the  seifand  the  structure  ofthe  personality.  Taine,  an  enormously 
influential  French  philosopher,  cultural  historian,  and  literary  critic 
devoted  a  substantial  part  of  his  De  Ulntelligcnce  (1878)  to  double 
consciousness  and  multiple  personality.  He  used  a  striking  theatrical 
metaphor  to  sum  up  the  implications  of  these  cases  and  the  appar- 
ently  similar  ones  of  mediumistic  possession: 

The  human  brain  is  a  theatre  whcre,  on  several  planes,  several  differcnt 
plays  are  stagcd  simullaneously,  but  only  one  of  which  isillumincd.  .  .  . 
Certainly  one  fmds  hcre  a  doubliug  ofthe  scK  {dcdnublemcnf  du  moi), 
the  simultaneous  presence  of  two  scries  of  parallel  and  indepcndcnt 


114 


M.  B.  MACMILLAN 


idcas,  of  two  centrcs  of  action,  two  psychological  pcrsons  juxtaposod  in 
the  same  brain,  each  with  a  difierent  mission,  one  at  centre  stage  and 
other  in  the  wings  [Taine,  1878,  Pp.  16-17]. 

This  particular  metaphor  was  much  quoted,  in  whole  or  in  part,  for 
example  by"Ribot  (1885),  Janet  (1886),  and  Binet  (1889,  1892).  One 
may  presume  that  its  central  point  was  in  even  wider  circulation  and 
that  it  was  possibly  known  to  Breuer.  He  could  have  known  of  the 
metaphor  directly  for  he  was  familiär  with  other  works  by  Taine 
(cited  by  Meyer,  1928).  He  almost  certainly  knew  of  a  similar  theatri- 
cal  metaphor  describing  consciousness  as  a  stage  and  ideas  as  actors 
which  had  been  proposcd  by  his  friend  and  colleague  Hering  (1895). 

Applying  the  talking  method  to  the  hallucinations  was  simply  an 
extension  of  the  second  step.  No  more  than  a  calming  of  mood  would 
be  expected  to  result  from  the  discharge  of  emotions  and  that  was 
what  happened.  Anna  0.*s  Symptoms  were  unchanged  and  her  condi- 
tion  so  deteriorated  that  she  was  hospitalized.  The  treatment  proper 
began  in  the  fourth  and  fifth  steps  when  the  talking  method  was 
applied  first  to  the  origins  of  the  fancies  and  then  to  the  origins  of  the 
synriptoms.  The  expected  result  ofthat  application  would  be  a  combi- 
nation  of  the  cxpectnncy  of  the  first  step,  that  talking  would  rcmovo 
Symptoms  bnscd  on  sccrets,  with  the  cxpcctancy  of  the  second  and 
third  Steps  that  emotional  expression  would  bring  about  a  general 
mood  change.  Only  one  fact  is  not  accounted  for  by  this  explanation 
and  that  is  why  it  was  so  long  beforc  the  last  two  steps  were  taken. 

Anna  0.*s  dircction  of  the  treatment  continued  until  the  end  when 
she  decided  upon  the  date  and  mode  of  its  termination: 

The  patient  herseif  had  formed  a  strong  dctermination  that  the  whole 
treatment  shouldbe  finished-by  the  anniversary  of  the  da_y  oiLw_hich_she 
was  movcd  into  the  countQr^AtJlie  beginning  ofJune,  accordingly,  she 
entered  into  the  talking  eure'  with  the  greatest  ener^:  On  the  last 
day-by  the  help  of  re-arranging  the  room  so  as  to  resemble  her  father's 
sickroom-she  rcproduced  the  tenüfying  hallucination  .  .  .  which  consti- 
tuted  the  root  of  her  whole  illness  [Breuer  &  Freud,  1895,  p.  40]. 

By  this  rc-enactmcnt,  Anna  0.  nominated  the  hallucination  of  the 
snake  as  the  cause  of  her  illness  and  gave  Breuer  a  starting  point  for 
his  reconstruction  of  its  evolution. 

Ellenberger  (1970)  seems  to  have  been  the  first  to  point  out  the 
significance  of  Aima  0.  s  domination  of  the  treatment.  He  notes  that, 
m  this  and  in  olhcr  respects,  Anna  0.^s  case  resembled  the  classic 
mcbnieric  and  magjictic jrurgs^  from  the  late  eighteenth  Century  In 
those  cases,  subjects  had  regularly^^t^u^^ 


CATHARTIC  METHOD  AND  EXPECTANCIES 


115 


i 


i 


the  causes  of  the  Symptoms  and  the  methods  of  cure.'^  The  apparcntly 
absolute  accuracy  of  Anna  0.*s  memory  for  the  events  of  a  year 
earlier  and  the  intense  personal  relation  between  herseif  and  Breuer 
are  two  other  features  with  parallels  in  the  classic  cases.  An  impor- 
tant  implication  of  Ellenberger's  comparison  is  that  Anna  O.'s  re- 
sponse to  Breuer's  method  of  treatment  ought  to  be  regarded  as  no 
more  remarkable  than  the  "eures"  developed  in  the  earlier  cases. 

DiSCUSSION 

It  is  only  probable  that  Breuer  and  Anna  0.  did  share  the  beliefs 
and  expectations  attributed  to  them  in  this  paper;  there  is  no  way  of 
establishing  the  facts  with  certainty,  nor  can  one  say  that  the  success 
of  the  "talking  eure"  did  derive  from  the  beliefs  and  expectations 
common  to  Anna  0.  and  Breuer.  But,  if  it  did,  and  if  Anna  O. 
dominated  the  treatment  to  the  extent  suggested,  Breuer's  therapeu- 
tic  method  may  be  placed  within  a  tradition  of  similar  methods  and 
evaluated  accordingly.  Almost  from  the  beginning  of  the  modern  era, 
the  details  of  the  treatment  methods  using  hypnosis  seem  to  have 
developed  from  specific  sets  of  beliefs -part  social  and  part  personal. 
For  example,  Mcßmcr's  patientsconvulscd  their  way  to  health  proba- 
bly  because  they  believed  the  thcn  currcnt  medical  opinion  that 
convulsive  crises  were  a  necessary  preliminary  to  the  recovery  from 
any  illness ~a  belief  which  Doctor  Mesmer  would  hardly  have  dis- 
couraged.  In  contrast,  the  method  of  magnctic  slecp,  which  sup- 
planted  that  used  by  Mesmer,  was  stumbled  upon^bj^e  Puysegur  in 
mesmerizing  his  servants  and  other  social  infenorsTsTeep,  symboliz- 
ing  the  passive  Submission  of  servant  to  mastcr,  was  an  appropriate 
response  to  be  made  by  de  Puysegur's  subjects,  and  they  recovered 
through  sleeping  rather  than  through  convulsive  crises.  Mesmerism 
and  magnetic  sleep  clearly  resemble  the  administration  of  inert 
drugs,  the  use  of  precious  metals,  and  the  Performance  of  sham 
Operations  in  having  no  properties  which  would  explain  their  mode  of 
action  and  in  relying  for  their  curative  effects  on  the  implicit  sugges- 
tions  of  the  expectancies  surrounding  their  use.  The  "talking  eure" 
appears  to  belong  to  this  same  sub-class  of  non-specific  suggestive 

•^  Such  features  were  regularly  reported  in  the  mcsmcric  prcss  of  the  ninetoenth 
Century  (Dingwall,  1967,  Vol.  1)  and  were  not  confincd  to  the  early  period.  In  about 
1900,  Edgar  Cayce  the  American  medical  clairvoyant,  diagnosed  the  cause  of  his 
aphonia  by  inspecting  his  own  vocal  cords.  He  then  instructod  the  hypnotist  to  give 
him  a  Suggestion  to  increase  the  circulation  to  the  affocted  parts.  Cayce's  sclf- 
perception  restorcd  his  voice.  Intere.-^tingly,  his  hypnotist  knew  of  similar  self- 
diagnosis  from  the  work  of  de  Puyscgur  (account  citod  by  Cerminara,  1950). 


116 


M.  B.  MACMILLAN 


therapies,  the  members  of  which  sometimes  relieved  some  of  the 
Symptoms  of  hysteria. 

This  conceptualization  of  the  *'talking  eure"  has  three  important 
implications.  First,  even  if  the  mechanism  by  which  Suggestion  pro- 
duces  eures  is  unknown,  explaining  the  efTects  of  Breuer's  method  by 
the  implicit  suggcstions  of  the/expeeiancies  provides  a  rational  alter- 
native to  the  explanation  of  Ellenberger  (1970)  who  proposed  the 
method  to  bc  a  crention  of  the  mvthopoetie  unconscipus.  Seeond,  the 
Short  time  between  the  end  of  Breuer's  treatment  and  Anna  O.'s 
relapse  might  require  no  special  explanation;  like  a  number  of  other 
-noiirspmücjreatments,  the  "talking-cure"  might  have  been  eapable 


eRly~eyanescentj;esulü 
Suggestion  methods  the  cffectiveness  of  Breuer's  technique  also  de- 
j  pended  partly  upon  socially  determined  expectancies  shared  by  thera- 
I  pist  and  patient,  it  might  be  anticipated  that  its  effectiveness  would 
decline  as  those  social  beliefs  declined  or  became  unfashionable.  The 
faet  that  its  usc  is  now  rather  restricted  might  index  the  waning  of 
common  convictions,  similar  to  those  of  Breuer  and  Anna  0.,  neces- 
sary  to  keep  the  method  alive. 

Referenxes 

Aristotle.  />  Partien.  fOn  the  nrt  nfPortryJ  (T.  Bywatcr,  Trans.)  In  W.  D.  Ross  (Ed.), 
The  ivorks  nfAristntlc.  Vol.  11.  Oxford:  Oxford  Univcr.  Press,  1924. 

HiNET,  A.  Recherchcs  sur  les  altorations  de  la  conscicnce  chez  Ics  hysteriques. 
(Studics  on  alterations  of  consciousncss  in  hysicnca.]  Revue philosophique ,  1889, 
27,  135-170. 

Einet,  A.  Les  alterations  de  la  personnalite .  [Alterations  ofpersonalityj  Paris:  Alcan, 
1892. 

Breuer,  J.,  &  Freud,  S.  On  the  psychical  mechanisms  of  hystcrical  phenomena: 
Preliminary  communication.  Inj.  Strachey  (Ed.  &  Trans.),  The  Standard  cdition 
of  the  cnmplete  psycholof,ncal  works  of  Sigmund  Freud.  Vol.  2.  Studies  on  hys- 
teria. London:  Hogarth  Press  &  Inst,  of  Psycho-analysis,  1955.  (Orig.  Publ.  1893.) 
Pp.  3-17. 

Breuer,  J.,  &  Freud,  S.  Gase  historics;  theoretical;  the  psychotherapy  of  hysteria.  In 
J.  Strachey  (Ed.  &  Trans.),  The  Standard  edition  of  the  complcte  psychological 
works  of  Sigmund  Freud.  Vol.  2.  Studies  on  hysteria.  London:  Hogarth  Press  & 
Inst,  of  P.sycho-analysis,  1955.  (Orig.  Publ.  1895.)  Pp.  21-305. 

Cerminara,  G.  Many  mansions.  New  York:  Morrow,  1950. 

DlNCWALL,  E.  J.  Hypnosis  in  France,  1800-1900.  (Vol.  1)  In  E.  J.  Dingwall  (Ed.), 
Abnormal  hypnttic  phenomena:  A  survey  of  nincteenth-century  case.s.  New  York: 
Barnes  &  Noble,  1968. 

Ellenberger,  H.  F.  The  pathogenic  secret  and  its  therapeutics.  J.  Hist.  behav.  Sei., 
1966,  2,  29-42. 

Ellenberger,  H.  F.  The  discovery  of  the  unconscious:  The  history  and  evolution  of 
dynamic  psych iatry.  New  York:  Basic  Books,  1970. 

Ellenberger,  H.  F.  The  story  of  "Anna  O":  A  critical  rcvicw  with  ncw  data.  J.  Hist. 
behau.  Sei.,  1012,  S,2C>l-21d. 

Freud,  S.  Five  Icctures  on  psyehoanalysis.  In  J.  Strachey  (Ed.  &  Trans.),  The 
Standard  edition  nf  the  completc  psychological  works  of  Sigmund  Freud.  Vol.  11. 


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Five  lectures  on  psycho-analysis,  Leonardo  da  Vinci,  and  other  works.  London: 

Hogarth  Press  &  Inst,  of  Psycho-analysis,  1957.  (Orig.  Publ.  1910.)  Pp.  3-56. 
Freud,  S.  An  autobiographical  study.  In  J.  Strachey  (Ed.  &  Trans.),  The  Standard 

edition  of  the  completc  psychological  works  of  Sigmund  Freud.  Vol.   20.  An 

autobiographical  study,  inhibitions,  Symptoms  and  anxiety,  the  question  of  lay 

analysis  and  other  works.  London,  Hogarth  Press  &  Inst,  of  Psycho-analysis, 

1959.  (Orig.  Publ.  1925.)  Pp.  7-74. 
Hering,  E.  On  memory  and  the  specific  energies  of  the  nervous  System.  Chicago: 

Open  Court,  1895. 
Jankt,  P.  Les  nctcs  incon.scionts  et  Ic  dcodoublemcnt  do  la  personnalite  pendnnt  lo 

somnambulisme  provoque.  [Unconscious  acts  and  the  Splitting  of  the  porsonality 

during  induced  somnambulism.j  Revue  Philosophique,  1886,  22,  577-592. 
Jensen,  E.  M.  Anna  0-A  study  of  her  latcr  life.  Psychoanal.  Quart.,  1970,  39,  269- 

293. 
Jones,  E.  The  life  and  work  of  Sigmund  Freud.  Vol.  1.  The  formative  ycars  and  the 

grcat  discovcries:  1856-1900.  New  York:  Basic  Books,  1953. 
Karpe,  R.  The  rescue  complex  in  Anna  O's  final  identity.  Psychoanal.  Quart.,  1961, 

30,  1-27.  '♦ 

Meyer,  H.  H.  Joseph  Breuer,  1842-1925.  Neue  Österreichische  Biographic,  1815- 

1918,  1928,5,  30-47. 
RiBOT,  Th.  Les  maladies  de  la  personnalite.  [Diseases  of  pcrsonality .]  Paris:  Alcan, 

1885. 
Sutclifp'e,  J.  P.,  &  Jones,  J.  Personal  identity,  multiple  pcrsonality,  and  hypnosis. 

Int.  J.  Clin.  exp.  Hypnosis,  1962,  10,  231-269. 
Taink,  11.  De  rinlclligcnce.  [About  intcllif;cnce.J  (Vol.  1.)  (3rd  ed.)  Paris:  Hachotto, 

1878. 
Taylor,  W.  S.,  &  Martin,  M.  F.  Multiple  pcrsonality.  J.  abnorm.. soc. Psycho!.,  1041, 

5.9,  281-300. 


Die  kathartische  Methode  und  die  Erwartungen  von  Breuer  und  Anna  0. 

M.  B.  Macmillan 

Abstrakt:  Erwartungen  von  den  Konsequenzen  des  unterdrückten  Verhaltens  und 
den  Effekten  des  Ausdrucks  von  Gefühlen  werden  hier  als  Quollen  der  **Kur  des 
Aussprechens**  vorgeschlagen,  die  sich  aus  Breuers  Behandlung  der  Anna  0. 
entwickelte  und  die  später  als  die  kathartische  Methode  bekannt  wurde.  Obgleich 
dies  Argument  dem  von  Ellenberger  (1970)  vorgeschlagenen  ähnlich  ist,  gibt  es  doch 
eine  rationellere  Alternative  für  seine  Erklärung,  dass  die  Methode  zum  Teil  eine 
Schöpfung  des  mythopoetischen  Unbewusstseins  sei.  Eine  Analyse  der  Interaktion 
zwischen  Breuer  und  Anna  O.  drückt  sehr  klar  die  Erwarlun^^en  aus,  die  jedem  der 
Schritte  unterliegen,  durch  die  sich  die  kathartische  Methode  entwickelt  und  leitet 
diese  Erwartungen  von  den  allgemeinen  Ansichten  und  den  speziellen,  theore- 
tischen Interessen,  die  sie  teilen,  her. 


La  methode  cathartique  et  les  attentes  de  Breuer  et  d'Anna  O. 

M.  B.  Macmillan 

Resume:  L'article  propose  que  les  attentes  concernant  (a)  les  consequences  de  la 
suppression  d'un  comportement  et  (b)  les  effets  et  Pcxpression  des  emotions  sont  los 
sourc^^s  de  la  **ture  pur  la  parole**  qui  s*cst  elaborcc  durant  Ic  trailcment  d'Anns\  O. 


1 


for  IBulietin   of   the  British   Psvcholoeical   Society 


"The^ Futarive   Illness   of  Anna  0." 


t 


Dear  Editors, 


Throughout  his  career,  Professor  Hans  J.  Eysenck  has  suffered  from  an  obsessive  need 

to  denigrate  the  members  of  the  psycho-analytical  profession  (e.g.  Eysenck  and  Wilson,  1973), 

ai^d  because  he  has  sought  no  treatment  for  his  condition,  his  Symptom  persists  unabated* 

In  a  recent  commentary  (Bulletin,  March  1985),  Eysenck  assaults  the  Freudian  establishment 

yet  again,  and  he  accuses  us  of  "ignorance"  and  of  a  "lack  of  scientific  integrit^/"  (p.  83). 

The  parricular  subject  under  discussion  is  the  famous  case  of  Fräulein  Anna  0. .   Josef 
Breuer,  Sigmund  Freud,  and  generations  of  psycho-analysts  have  claimed  that  Anna  0. 
suffered  frcm  an  hystericai  neurosis,  and  that  Breuer  successfully  removed  her  Symptoms 
with  the  cathartic  method  (e.g.  Jones,  1953);  as  such,  this  case  has  become  a  cause 
celebre,  and  as  Eysenck  notes,  many  therapists  have  continued  to  refer  to  the  treatment 
as  an  Illustration  of  therapeutic  efficacy  of  psycho-analysis.   Eysenck  however  does 
not  believe  that  Anna  0.  suffered  from  hysteria;  he  has  been  seduced  by  the  outlandish 
hypothesis  (advanced  by  a  librarian  called  Elizabeth  M.  Thornton)  (1983)  that  Anna  0. 
had  actually  contracted  tuberculous  meningitis.   Eysenck  Claims  that  her  Symptoms  never 
disappeared  and  that  she  continued  to  suffer  all  her  life;  further,  Eysenck  accuses  Freud 
of  having  "knowingiy  suppressed"  (p.  83)  this  evidence  "in  order  to  further  the  myth  of 
psychoanalytic  therapy  as  a  successful  eure"  (p.  83). 


Not  only  is  Eysenck  unfamiliar  with  the  case  at  hand  (e.g.  when  he  lectured  on  this 
in  Oxford  in  198^,  he  claimed  that  Anna  0.  was  one  of  Freud's  "patients")  (!),  but  he 
has  obviously  never  read  even  an  elementary  textbook  on  medicine.   If  he  had  bothered 
to  fainiliarise  himself  with  the  most  facile  writings  on  the  subject,  he  would  have 
realised  that  Anna  0.  could  not  have  suffered  from  what  Eysenck  calls  a  "physiological 
disease"  (p.  83).   Tuberculous  meningitis  results  from  an  infection  of  the  meninges 
(i.e.  the  membranes  surrounding  the  brain  and  the  spinal  cord)  caused  by  the  tubercle 
bacillus.   The  multifarious  Symptoms  can  include:   headache,  vomiting,  slowing  of  the 
pulse,  cranial-nerve  palsies,  oculomotor  palsies,  pupillary  changes,  blindness,  deaf ness , 
vascular  thrombosis,  ischemic  brain  damage,  dementia,  coma,  and  hydrocephalus.   If  untreated, 
tuberculous  meningitis  is  "invariably  fatal"  (Des  Prez,  1979,  p.  493;  see  also,  Crofton, 
1974;  Critchley,  1978). 

Bertha  Pappenheim  (the  real  name  of  "Anna  0.")  developed  her  Symptoms  in  1880,  at  the 
age  of  twenty-one  years  (Breuer,  1895).   Eysenck  neglects  to  mention  that  Fräulein 
Paopenheim  did  not  die  until  1936,  at  the  rioe  old  age   of  seventy-seven,  after  having 
become  wcrld  farr.ous  as  a  pioneer  social  worker  and  feminist  (e.g.  Freeman,  1972;  Guttman, 
1984).   Had  she  contracted  meninigitis  and  lived  until  such  an  age,  she  would  deserve  a 
whole  chapter  in  medical  history  as  a  most  unusual  case  indeed!   Pappenheim  died  long 
before  pharmacological  treatments  (e.g.  isoniazid,  rifampin,  streptomycin)  had  been 
introducsd,  and  so,  i_f  she  did  have  meningitis,  she  would  have  survived  without  the 
aid  of  pharmacotherapy;  and  as  the  untreated  cases  result  in  premature  death,  this  is 
highly  unlikely. 


Yet  Eysenck  continues  his  pompous  and  ill-informed  diatribes.   Anthony  Storr  (1983)  has 
already  offered  a  sound  medical  rebuttal  to  Thornton 's  meningitis  theory  in  the  widely 
circulated  Times  Literary  Supplement,  and  it  is  a  great  pity  that  we  should  have  to 


OO 


r*  ^ 


n 


d  so  much  time  keeping  the  facts  straight  and  correcting  the  ignorance  of  such 


stuoborn  and  regrettably  influential  psychologists  as  Eysenck. 


Yours  faithfully, 


^ 


-s  •  / 


•   »  •  \  .  >  l  V 


Director 

The  Oxford  Psvcho-Analytical  Forum 

Corpus  Christ:!  College 

ür.iversity  oi    Oxford 

Oxford  0X1  4JF 


REFERENCES 


Breuer,  Josef.   (1895).   "Fräulein  Anna  0.".   Pp.  15-37.   In  Breuer,  Josef,  and 
Freud,  Sigmund.   Studien  über  Hysterie.   Vienna:   Franz  Deuticke. 

Critchley,  Macdonald.  (Ed.).   (1978).   Butterworths  Medical  Dictionary.   Second  Edition. 
London:   Butterworth  and  Company  (Publishers) . 

Crofton,   J.W.   (1974).   "Tuberculosis".   Pp.  69-86.   In  Alstead,  Stanley,  and 

Girdwood,  Ronald  H.  (Eds.)   Textbook  of  Medical  Treatment.   Thirteenth  Edition. 
Edinburgh:   Churchill  Livingstone. 

Des  Prez,   Roger  M.   (1979).   "Extrapulmonary  Tuberculosis".  Pp.  491-498.   In 

Beeson,  Paul  B.,  McDermott,  Walsh,  and  Wyngaarden,  James  B.   (Eds.).   Cecil 

Textbook  of  Medicine.   Fifteenth  Edition.   Philadelphia,  Pennsylvania:   W.B. 
Saunders  Company. 

Eysenck,   Hans  J.   (1984).   "How  Wrong  Was  Freud?".   Lecture  at  the  Oxford 
Psycho-Analytical  Forum.   University  of  Oxford.   Oxford.   30th  April. 

Eysenck,  Hans  J.   (1985).   "Anna  0.".   Bulletin  of  the  British  Psychological  Society. 
38 •  82—83 . 

Eysenck,  Hans  J,  ,  and  Wilson,  Glenn  D.   (1973).   The  Experimental  Study  of  Freudian 
Theories.   London:   Methuen  and  Company. 

Freeman,   Lucy.   (1972).   The  Story  of  Anna  0.  .   New  York,  New  York:   Walker  and  Company. 

Guttman,  Melinda  J.   (1984).   "Anna  O.'s  Private  Theater".   Lecture  at  the  Oxford 
Psycho-Analytical  Forum.   University  of  Oxford.   Oxford.   7th  May. 

Jones,  Ernest.   (1953).   Sigmund  Freud:   Life  and  Work.   Volume  One:   The  Young  Freud:  -, 
1856-1900.   London:   Hogarth  Press. 


Storr,  Anthony.   (1983).   "Beware  the  Primal  Horde".   Times  Literary  Supplement. 
Pp.  1266.   18th  November. 


Thornton,  Elizabeth  M.   (1983). 
Blond  and  Briggs. 


Freud  and  Cocaine:   The  Freudian  Fallacy.   London 


Bulletin  of  the  British  Psychological  Society,  38,  82-83,  1985. 


p.    82. 


p.    83. 


\ 


Euch  Community  within  the  Fellowship  has  a  'house 
Programme'  which  contains  a  diversity  ot  aaivities.  The 
house  I  work  at  had  a  social  skills  programme,  devised  by  a 
psychologisc  and  run  by  myseif,  again  with  the  use  ot 
psychological  insights  and  techniques. 

It  is  quite  clear  t^at  psychological  techniques  are  not 
used  only  by  t'ormally  qualit'ied  psychologists,  but  that 
rnany  other  prot'essionals  in  related  spheres  also  use  them. 
Recently  I  was  asked  my  occupation.  the  term  'residential 
socia'  workcr'  ccnjured  up  an  image  totaily  incongrueut  to 
mv  occupation.  but  the  term  'psychologist'  will  be  reserved 
for  those  with  some  formal  postgraduate  qualification. 
Surely  this  rule  is  out  of  place  when  one  considers  such 
cases  as  above. 

Yours  faithfullv, 
MICHAEL  MOTTRAM 
Trainee  Scholar.  The  Richmond  Fellowship.  'Browside',  5 
Carnatic  Road.  Liverpool  LIS  8BY 

The  genetics  of  schizophrenia 

Dear  Editors, 

I  fear  that,  in  his  eagernes  to  demolish  me  with  quotable 
passages  from  Bernal  and  recent  references  to  Kailmann. 
Marshall  {Bulletin.  December  1984)  has  really  missed  the 
poini  of  my  earlier  lettter  on  the  gcnetics  of  schizophrenia. 
I  agree  with  him  that  it  is  deplorable  that  Kailmann  is  the 
only  source  quoted  in  many.  quite  recent.  textbooks  in 
abnormal  psychology  and  psychiatry.  My  own  inclination  is 
to  put  this  down,  not  to  sociopolitical  motives  on  the  part 
of  the  authors.  but  to  ignorance,  laziness,  or  more 
eenerouslv.  to  the  inordinale  lensth  of  time  it  alwavs  seems 
to  take  before  even  quite  well-established  research  findings 
enter  general  textbooks  on  a  topic.  With  all  due  rcspect  for 
Marshall's  quiie  legiiimaie  conccrn  about  the  social 
contextual  nature  of  scientific  'facts',  1  would  suggesi  [hat 
in  the  particuiar  case  of  schizophrenia  the  weighi  o{ 
evidence  —  beginning  to  accumulate  before  Kallmanns 
siudies  and  contmuing  right  up  to  the  present  day  —  puts  a 
genetic  inllucnce  in  the  disorder  beyond  reasonable  doubl, 
ünfortunately  —  and  this  was  ihe  real  pomi  of  my  lettcr  — 
that  i.s  H'-.t  sayir.g  vcry  much:  cxccpi  thai  all  diversity  of  thj 
human  spccies  has  some  genetic  Clement,  determining  the 
sensiiivity  to  environmental  intluenccs  which  are  as  yet.  in 
the  case  ot  schizophrenia.  poorly  understood.  Even  the 
authors  of  Sot  in  Our  Genes,  a  book  of  which  Marshall 
ciearly  appnn'os,  do  not  deny  the  existence  of  genes  or 
their  poteniialitv  for  inllucncing  behaviour;  their  objec- 
tion,  with  which  l  eniirely  concur,  is  with  a  crudely 
determinisiic  inierpretation  of  genetic  evidence. 

1  am  sorry  that  .Marshatl  seemed  somewhai  thrown  by 
what  he  refers  to,  in  my  letter.  as  the  *juxiapositions"  in  my 
argunient:  by  which  l  presume  he  means  my  arguing 
simultaneously  hoiii  against  a  simplistic  "disease  'eniiiy' 
View  of  schizophrenia  ami  iu  favour  of  the  genetic 
evidence.  His  puzzlemeni  is  revealing.  It  illustraies  that  the 
biases  aiising  from  sociopolitical  aitiiude  and  the  inier- 
pretation o(  scientific  evidence  are  noi  as  neally  aligned  as 
he  supposes. 

Yours  faithfullv. 
GORDON  CLARIDGE 
Magdalen  College.  Oxford 

Anna  (). 

Dear  EdiiDrs. 

In  \\w  Janu.irv  üuUcnn  o\  \\\\s  ycar.  J\idy  Coopcr  rcvicws 


a  book  on  .Anna  C.  which  contains  14  contemporan.' 
reinierpretaiions*.  The  reviewer  staies  'that  from  a 
severely  incapaciiated  young  woman  Anna  O.  was  enabled 
to  become  a  vigorous  and  tireless  worker  for  womens 
rights.  The  analysis  was  impressiveiy  successful  ihere'.  The 
14  authors  of  the  book  State  how  they  would  have  treated 
the  case,  and  the  reviewer  asks:  'would  practitioners  today 
have  done  any  beiter  than  Breuer  and  Freud?' 

One  can  only  wonder  at  the  level  of  ignorance  displayed 
by  the  authors  of  the  book  and  the  reviewer  aiike. 
Ellenberger  (1972)  quoted  Jung  as  saying  in  1925  that  this 
famous  case,  *so  much  spoken  about  as  an  example  of 
brilliant  therapeutic  was  in  reality  nothing  of  the  kind  that 
.  .  .  ihere  was  no  eure  at  all  in  the  sense  of  which  it  was 
originally  presented'.  Indeed,  as  we  now  know  due  to  the 
detective  work  of  Ellenberger  »S:  Hirschmüller  (1973), 
Anna  O.  was  not  in  fact  suffering  from  any  kind  of 
Psychiatric  illness,  but  from  tuberculous  meningitis,  and,  as 
Thornton  (1983)  has  pointed  out,  *the  follow-up  report  by 
the  Sanatorium  doctor  contains  definite  proof  that  the 
Symptoms  which  Breuer  had  claimed  had  been  '^per- 
manenily  removed"  by  the  "caihartic"  treaimeni  were  still 
present  long  after  he  had  ceased  to  have  her  in  his  care'. 

In  oiher  words.  Anna  O.  did  not  suffer  from  a 
psychological  but  a  physiological  disease  caused  by  a  virus; 
she  was  not  cured  by  Breuer  but  continued  for  many  years 
with  very  much  the  same  Symptoms;  and  Freud  knowingly 
suppressed  much  of  the  evidence  available  to  him  (and 
known  to  Jung  and  others)  in  Order  to  further  the  myth  of 
psychoanalytic  therapy  as  a  successful  eure.  That  this 
myihology  should  still  be  taken  seriously  by  the  authors  of 
the  book.  or  the  reviewer,  speaks  volumes  about  the  lack 
of  scientific  integnty  so  charactcrislic  of  this  branch  of 
'knowledge'. 

.    *      Yours  faithfullv, 
\       H.  J.  EYSENCk 
Universiiv  of  London  Institute  of  Psvchiatrv 


Ellenberger,  H.  F.  (1972).  'The  story  of  Anna  0.\  a 
criiical  review  with  new  data,  History  of  the  Behav- 
ionral  Sciences.  8,  267-279. 

Hirschmüller.  A.  (197S).  Physiologie  und  Psychoünaly^o 
im  Leben  und  Werk  Joseph  Breuers.  Jahrbuch  der 
Psychoanalyse.  Supplemenl  4.  Bonn:  Huner. 

Thornton,  E,  M.  (1983).  Freud  and  Cocaine.  London: 
Blond  Sl  Briggs. 

Cuncepts  o(  irnpairnient,  disability  and  handicap 

Dear  Editors, 

I  wish  to  point  out  an  anomalous  usage  of  terms  [o  which 
psychologists  appear  to  be  adhering.  Your  January  Bulletin 
contains  a  book  review  and  öne  inviiation  to  use  a 
publicaiions  index,  boih  of  which  :>peak  of  'handicap'  but 
do  not  mention  'disability'.  This  is  odd  and  regrettable  for 
two  reasons. 

Firstly,  as  explamed  later,  I  believe  that  disability  not 
handicap  should  be  pivotal  for  psychologists.  Secondly, 
VV'HO  (1980)  has  now  standardized  terininology  in  a 
desirable  way  that  reflects  both  the  original  derivaiional 
meaning  o{  ihc  terms  in  English.  and  reflects  the  concep- 
lual  necd  to  distinguish  ceriain  domains  of  funciioning. 
Inipairmcnt  refers  to  abnormal  or  reduced  functioning  of 
an  Organ  i)r  sysiem  whelher  directly  observed  or  directly 
ink'rred;  it  is  ihercfore  a  physiok»gical  con'"'ni.  Disability 
refcrs  to  a  reduced  repertoire  o\  generally  v  iluable^ 
biological.  physic»!  or  ^(K'ial  skills  —  tlimus  the  diSi[>ihi 


\ 


^ 


t. 


THE  SEDUCTIONS  OF 
PSYCHOANALYSIS 

FREUD,  LACAN  ANDDERRIDA 
JOHN  FORRESTER 

Department  of  History  and  Philosophy 
of  Science.  University  of  Cambridge 


>  '■ 


t. 


.¥*. 


%  ••? 


.(' 


j< 


'•% 


\ü 


.<. 


The  right  of  the 

University  of  Cambridge 

to  print  and  seil 

all  manner  of  books 

H'OJ  granfed  by 

Henry  VIH  in  1534, 

The  University  has  printed 

and  published  continuously 

since  1584, 


^E 


ll 


CAMBRIDGE  UNIVERSITY  PRESS 

CAMBRIDGE 

NEW   YORK       PORT  CHESTER 

MELBOURNE       SYDNEY 


1 


THE  TRUE  STORY  OF 

ANNA  O. 


<• 


: 


Above  all,  the  patient  will  begin  his  treatment  with  a  repetition  .  .  . 

Sigmund  Freud  • 

In  1932,  Sigmund  Freud  vvrote  to  his  friend  Stefan  Zweig  con- 
cerning  some  misleading  remarks  that  Zweig  had  made  in  his  book 
Mental  healers  about  the  prehistory  of  psychoanalysis.  Freud 
wanted  to  correct  the  impression  that,  in  his  treatment  of  Anna  O. , 
the  first  patient  of  psychoanalysis,  Breuer  had  brought  to  light 
certain  suppressed  siSxual  feelings.  That  this  was  not  in  fact  what 
had  happened  could  have  been  deduced  from  Breuer's  own 
published  record  of  the  case  in  Studies  on  hysteria,  There  he  had 
written: 

The  Clement  of  sexuality  was  astonishingly  undeveloped  in  her;  the 
patient,  whose  life  became  known  to  me  to  an  extent  to  which  one  person's 
life  is  seldom  known  to  another,  had  never  been  in  love,  and  in  all  the 
enormous  number  of  hallucinations  which  occurred  during  her  illness  that 
Clement  of  mental  life  nevcr  emergcd,^ 

■ir.  .'A 

But  Freud  not  only  cprrected  the  erroneous  account  Zweig  had 
given,  he  added  his  own  version  of  the  end  of  the  treatment  of 
Breuer's  patient,  a  version  which  forms  the  basis  for  a  history  of 
psychoanalysis  -  in  fact  can  be  described  as  locating  the  true  point 
of  origin  of  psychoanalysis,  the  point  from  which  its  entire  later 
development  makes  sense. 

What  really  happened  with  Breuer's  patient  I  was  ablc  to  gucss  latcr  on, 
long  after  the  break  in  our  rclations,  whcn  I  suddenly  rcmcmbercd 
something  Breuer  had  once  told  me  in  another  context  before  we  had 
bcgun  to  coUaborate  and  which  he  nevcr  repeatcd.  On  the  evcning  of  the 
day  whcn  all  her  Symptoms  had  been  disposed  of,  he  was  summoned  to  the 
patient  again,  found  her  confuscd  and  writhing  in  abdominal  cramps. 
Asked  what  was  wrong  with  her,  she  rcplied:  'Now  Dr.  B.'s  child  is 
Coming!'  .  .  .  Seized  by  convcntional  horror  hc  took  flight  and  abandoncd 
the  patient  to  a  coUcaguc.  For  months  afterwards  she  strugglcd  to  regain 
her  hcalth  in  a  Sanatorium.^ 


■m 


^.1 


VI 


;li 


■  r 


W 


17 


l 


1 1 


The  temptation  of  Sigmund  Freud 

Freud  recounted  how  this  was  Breuer's  lost  opportunity:  'At  this 
moment  he  held  in  his  band  the  key  that  would  have  opened  ''the 
doors  to  the  Mothers",  but  he  let  it  drop/'^The  key  phrase,  no 
doubt,  is  "Dr.  B.  5  child\  The  transference  was  in  his  grasp,  but  he 
let  it  go. 

If  this  is  an  account  of  the  origin  of  psychoanalysis,  then  it  is 
couched  in  the  form  of  a  negative:  it  recounts  Bxtwtx'^  failure  to 
found  psychoanalysis,  here  conceived  of  as  centred  on  the  sexual 
transference.  Freud,  looking  back  in  retrospect,  implies  that 
Breuer  could  have  made  the  discoveries  he  himself  later  made,  if 
only  he  had  been  able  to  recognise  this  sexual  transference:  that  is,  a 
moment  in  the  treatment  of  a  patient  when  sexuality  erupted  into 
the  open  in  the  form  of  a  direct  implication  of  the  doctor. 

For  it  should  be  remembered,  despite  what  Freud  implied  in 
other  parts  of  his  letter  to  Zweig, -''  that  Breuer  fully  recognised  the 
importance  of  sexuality  in  the  etiology  of  the  neuroses:  'the  great 
majority  of  severe  neuroses  in  women  have  their  origin  in  the 
marriage  bed\^  And  Breuer  was  aware  enough  of  the  context  of 
social  relations  in  which  such  an  'assertion'  could  be  made  and 
recognised  to  add  the  foUowing  note: 

It  is  a  most  unfortunate  thing  that  clinical  medicine  ignores  one  of  the  most 
pathogenic  factors  or  at  least  only  hints  at  it  delicately.  This  is  certainly  a 
subject  in  which  the  acquired  knowledge  of  experienced  physicians  should 
be  communicated  to  their  Juniors,  who  as  a  rule  blindly  overlook  sexuality 
-  at  all  events  so  far  as  their  patients  are  concemed^ 

We  should  note  the  manner  in  which  Breuer's  criticisms  of  his 
colleagues  for  only  hinting  at  the  importance  of  sexuality  is 
repeated  in  his  own,  allusion  to  the  reason  for  young  doctors' 
systematic  blindness  to  the  importance  of  sexuality:  namely,  their 
preoccupation  with  their  own  sexual  desire  as  opposed  to  the  sexual 
reality  of  their  patients.  Breuer  was  thus  invoking  in  an  uncannily 
accurate  fashion  precisely  the  perception  of  his  'Juniors'  that  Freud 
was  later  to  judge  was  true  of  his  'senior',  Josef  Breuer.^ 

Breuer  was  certainly  aware  of  the  ubiquity  of  the  sexual  problem. 
Yet  we  can  still  safely  conclude,  I  think,  that  this  did  not  guarantee 
that  he  was  immune  from  strong  personal  reactions  when  he  was 
implicated  in  this  very  etiology. 

It  is  clear,  then,  that  the  overall  significance  of  Freud's  recon- 
struction  of  the  denouement  of  the  treatment  of  Anna  O.  was  to 
show  that  Breuer  had  the  key  of  the  sexual  transference  in  his  band 
and  let  it  slip;  we  can  add  that,  despite  Freud's  forgetting  it,  it  was 

18 


\ 


K 


V 


The  true  story  of  Anna  O. 
,ot  so  much  the  sexual  aspect  of  this  that  was  important  but  the 
combination  of  the  two:  sexuaUty  which  imphcated  the  doctor. 

Transference  or  countertransference 

Another  source  of  Information  concerning  the  end  of  Anna  O  's  - 
or  more  appropriately.  Bertha  Pappenheim's-  treatment  exists.  It 
kthe  correspondence  between  Freud  and  his  francee  Martha,  in 
which  conversations  with  Breuer  and  various  bits  of  gossip  are 
exchanged. 

I  know  this  from  a  coUeague.  the  Assistant  to  the  Chief  Physician  who  is 
lerknown  there  and  w^ho  sometimes  goes  out  there  to  Substitute  for  Dr^ 
Br  slauer    He  is  completely  enchanted  by  the  giri,  by  her  provocat.ve 
apTearance  m  spite  of  her  grey  hair ,  by  her  wit  and  her  cleverness.  I  beheve 
that  tf  he  as  a  psychiatrist  did  not  know  so  weil  what  a  bürden  the 
nc  in  tion  to  a  hys  encal  illness  can  be,  he  would  have  fallen  m  love  w.th 
he     But   Martchen,  discretion  on  all  sides.  And  be  discreet,  too   about 
what  I  am  about  to  teil  you.  Breuer  too  has  a  ve.,-  high  opinion  of  her,  and 
Le  up  her  care  because  it  was  threaten.ng  h.s  happy  marnage.  H.s  poo 
wife  could  not  stand  the  fact  that  he  was  so  exclusively  devot.ng  h.mself  to  a 
Zornan  about  whom  he  obviously  spoke  with  great  mterest^  She  was 
Ter^a  nly  only  jealous  of  the  demands  made  on  her  husband  by  another 
wom  n  Her  jealousy  did  not  show  itself  in  a  hateful,  tormentrng  fash,on_ 
but^n ä  silent  y  recognized  one.  She  feil  iU,  lost  her  sp.r.ts,  unt.l  he  not.ced 
r^d  d  scovered  the  reason  why.  This  naturally  was  enough  for  h.m  to 
completdy  withdraw  his  medical  attention  fron.  B.P.  Can  you  keep  th.s  to 
yourself,  Martchen?"^ 

Martha  replied: 

It  has  often  been  on  the  t.p  of  my  tongue  to  ask  you  why  B-^^^^P 
Bertha  l  could  well  imagine  that  those  somewhat  removed  from  .t  we  e 
w  ong  to  say  that  he  had  ;ithdrawn  because  he  reaHsed  that  he  was  unable 
ToTanyth  ng  for  her.  It  is  curious  that  no  man  other  than  her  Phys.aan  of 
tL  moment  got  dose  to  poor  Bertha,  that  is  when  she  was  healthy  she 
alreadyThad  the  power]  to  turn  the  head  of  the  most  sensible  of  men  -  wha 
a  r^isfotune  for  the  girl.  You  will  laugh  at  me,  dearest,  I  so  v.v.dly  put 
m"seinn  the  place  of  the  silent  Frau  Mathilde  that  I  could  scarcely  sleep 

last  night.'" 

Two  days  later,  Martha  received  Freud's  complex  response: 

My  beloved  little  angel.  you  were  right  to  expect  ^^atl  would  laugh  atyou^ 

I  do  so  with  great  gusto.  Are  you  really  so  vam  as  to  beheve  hat  people  are 

going  to  contest  your  right  to  your  lover  or  later  to  yo"r  husband    Oh  no 

he  remains  entirely  yours,  and  your  only  comfort  w.ll  have  to  be  that  he 

19 


4 


iil 


)! 


'•i.. 


The  temptation  of  Sigmund  Freud 

himself  would  not  wish  it  any  other  way.  To  suffer  Frau  Mathilde's  fate, 
one  has  to  be  the  wife  of  a  Breuer,  isn't  that  so?'' 


Whereas  Freud's  recollected  reconstruction  in  his  letter  to  Zweig 
focused  almost  exclusively  on  the  relationship  between  Breuer  and 
his  patient,  here  Sigmund  and  Martha  are  placing  that  treatment 
within  a  complex  web  of  medical  and  famihal  relations.  Freud  is 
describing  the  position  of  the  two  men,  Breuer  and  the  assistant, 
who  become  fascinated  by  Bertha  ('Breuer  too  has  a  very  high 
opinion  of  her').  To  be  sure,  the  two  men  hold  back  from  Bertha, 
although  for  different  reasons:  the  Assistant  because  he  cannot 
forget  what  he  as  a  psychiatrist  knows  about  such  a  woman  patient, 
Breuer  because  he  had  it  brought  to  his  attention  by  his  wife  how 
exclusive  his  interest  in  his  patient  had  become.  Freud's  account 
wavers  between  on  the  one  hand  attributing  to  Breuer  the  same 
amorous  interest  that  the  Assistant  was  fully  aware  of,  but  which 
the  latter  moderates  given  his  better  knowledge,  and  on  the  other 
denying  that  Breuer  feit  anything  other  than  medical  concern  for 
his  patient,  whose  demands,  unhappily  for  her,  were  perceived  by 
Mathilde  Breuer  as  excessive  and  beyond  the  call  of  medical  duty. 
To  Freud,  one  of  the  doctors  was  clearly  amorously  inclined,  with 
medical  knowledge  acting  as  the  limit  on  his  action;  the  other, 
Breuer,  was  medically  concerned  to  the  point  of  exclusive  devo- 
tion,  and  the  limit  on  his  devotion  was  placed  by  an  outside  force, 
his  wife's  perception  of  a  threat  to  her  position  in  his  affections,  this 
external  force  thus  determining  the  point  at  which  his  medical 
devotion  passed  over  into  something  eise.  The  two  men  shared  a 
common  response,  but  their  different  motivation  and  reasons  tor 
caution  obscured  this  common  dement. 

So  it  feil  to  Martha,  momentarily  identifying  with  Bertha's 
position,  to  separate  out  what  would  later  be  called  the  dimension 
of  transference-countertransference.  Her  comment,  while  gram- 
matically  awkward,  succinctly  managed  to  leave  in  suspense 
whether  it  was  transference  or  countertransference  at  issue:  Tt  is 
curious  [merkwürdig]  that  no  man  other  than  her  physician  of  the 
moment  got  close  to  poor  Bertha,  that  is  when  she  was  healthy  she 
already  [had  the  power]  to  turn  the  head  of  the  most  sensible 
[vernünftigsten]  of  men  -  what  a  misfortune  for  the  girl.'^^ 

Freud's  reply,  however,  does  not  address  this  acute  Observation. 
Instead,  he  picks  up  on  the  second  identification  manifest  in 
Martha's  letter,  that  with  Mathilde  Breuer,  the  abandoned  doctor's 
wife  rather  than  the  unfortunate  patient,  thus  focusing  on  the 

20 


k 


i 


? 


The  true  story  of  Anna  O. 

doctor's  relation  with  his  spouse  rather  than  on  the  doctor-patient 
elationship  in  which  her  friend  Bertha  had  become  embroiled. 
What  Martha  had  seen,  which  Freud  could  not  yet  see,  was  the 
•jmpersonal  nature  of  the  process',  as  Freud  was  to  describe  the 
transference,  indeed  this  specific  occasion  of  the  transference,  in 
bis  obituary  of  Breuer  in  1925  J^  Martha  could  perceive  it  -  'It  is 
curious  .  .  .  '  -  by  picking  up  the  cues  in  Freud's  letter  describing 
the  similar  responses  of  both  doctors  to  the  patient;  she  could 
recognise  the  key  element  of  repetition  in  their  response,  the 
repetition  that  turns  it  into  something  impersonal'.  And  in  this 
sense  her  interpretation  of  Freud's  letter  was  a  psychoanalytic  one 
avantla  lettre:  making  explicit  what  he  had  said  without  knowing  it. 
What  is  more,  her  interpretation  is  entirely  in  accord  with  the  way 
in  which  the  Aristotelian  tradition  has  always  cast  this  element  of 
repetition:  as  the  essential  ingredient  of  tragedy,  the  automaton  of 
fate:  'what  a  misfortune  .  .  .  '  Only  much  later  was  Freud  to  make 
this  tragic  aspect  central  to  his  conception  of  transference. 

For  the  moment,  though,  Freud  would  not  perceive  the 
impersonal  or  'universal' '"^  nature  of  the  Breuer-Bertha  affair.  He 
was  too  concerned  to  combat  the  possibility  that  the  same  thing  as 
had  happened  to  Mathilde  Breuer  might  happen  to  Martha.  Such 
was  Freud's  sophistication,  though,  that  even  in  this  defensive 
move  he  touched  on  a  key  aspect  of  this  question:  he  discerned 
vanity  masquerading  as  jealousy ,  implicitly  invoking  a  notion  of  the 
projected  desire  of  the  vain  woman  onto  her  rivals  as  a  source  of  the 
fear  of  loss  aimed  at  by  jealousy.  The  next  sentence,  however, 
Switches  tack,  shiftingifrom  the  vanity  of  women  to  the  weight 
attaching  to  the  masculine  lover's  character:  To  suffer  Frau 
Mathilde's  fate,  one  has  to  be  the  wife  of  a  Breuer  .  .  .  '  Freud  is 
implying  that  there  was  something  overly  complex  or  insufficient  in 
Breuer's  love  for  his  wife  -  something,  for  instance,  like  a  dissatis- 
faction  in  love,  from  which  Freud  will  not  suffer  if  Martha  loves  him 
in  a  spirit  of  humility  rather  than  vanity. 

Masson^-^  concludes  from  this  sequence  of  letters  that  Freud  did 
not  yet  know  of  (or  was  not  willing  to  mention  to  Martha)  the 
phantom  pregnancy,  the  'event'  which  he  was  later  to  think 
prompted  Breuer  to  terminale  his  treatment  of  her  in  June  1882. 
However,  it  seems  more  likely  that  this  is  exactly  what  Breuer  had 
informed  Freud  of  in  July  1883,  on  the  evening  of  the  hottest  day  of 
the  year,  in  a  letter  we  will  come  to  shortly;  it  seems  likely  that  this 
is  the  item  referred  to  in  that  letter  which  Breuer  asked  his  young 
coUeague  not  to  speak  of  with  Martha  until  after  their  marriage.  As 

21 


V»;    . 


^ 


II 


t  i 


The  temptation  of  Sigmund  Freud 

Freud  himself  implied  in  his  letter  to  Zweig  of  1932,  it  was  not  so 
much  knowing  about  this  incident  -  not  so  much  the  fact  of  having 
been  told  of  it  -  as  knowing  how  to  make  something  of  it  which  was 
to  be  Freud's  later  achievement.  Where  Martha  saw  the  tragedy  of 
fate,  Freud  was  later  to  see  the  dynamic  source  of  therapeutic 
change,  to  see  the  possibihty  of  changing  one's  fate  rather  than 
submitting  to  it. 

But  are  we  to  conclude  that  the  true  discoverer  of  the  trans- 
ference  was  Martha  Bernays?  That  would  be  fooHsh  -  precursoritis 
of  the  most  flagrantly  terminal  kind.  She  may  well  have  recognised 
something  that  Freud  was  both  personally  disinclined  to  ponder 
and  professionally  incapable  of  recognising  at  the  same  time.  That 
is,  it  might  well  have  been  structurally  impossible  for  him  to  make 
that  recognition  within  the  terms  of  his  conception  of  medical 
practice  (To  suffer  Frau  Mathilde's  fate,  one  has  to  be  the  wife  of  a 
Breuer,  isn't  tiiat  so?').  Indeed,  this  argument  can  be  taken  one 
Step  further:.  Breuer  was  incapable  of  recognising  it  as  well,  but  he 
was  at  least  in  a  better  position  than  either  Freud  or  Martha,  since 
he  actually  had  a  practice  in  which  such  a  perception  might  have 
been  put  to  good  use.  Freud's  distinction  was  to  put  such  a 
perception  to  good  use  within  such  a  practice,  later,  when  he 
became  a  doctor  -  that  is,  he  made  the  perception  of  the  trans- 
ference  a  theoretical  element  within  a  theoretical  argument  that 
neither  Martha's  psychological  acuity  nor  Breuer's,  Chrobak's  and 
Charcot's  professional  worldly  wise  acumen  could  achieve.^^^ 
.  However,  we  can  offer  yet  another  interpretation  of  this  inci- 
dent. ^What  Freud  told  Martha  of  in  his  letter  was  perhaps  not  so 
much  the  germ  of  the  transference  as  the  distorted  account  of  the 
countertransference.  After  all,  it  was  the  doctors  whose  interest 
was  aroused  by  Bertha;  it  was  the  doctors  and  the  disturbance  it 
caused  in  them  that  formed  the  true  subject  matter  of  Freud  and 
Martha's  exchange  of  letters.  Bertha  figured  as  the  poor  soul  who 
still  had  the  power  to  attract  her  doctors'  attention,  the  poor  soul 
who  'had  the  power  to  turn  the  head  of  the  most  sensible  of  men'.  ^ '^ 
What  caused  consternation  and  required  discretion  was  the 
doctors'  reaction  to  their  fascination  for  her.  It  seems  more 
plausible  to  say  that  Freud  and  Martha  were  discovering  the 
countertransference  than  the  transference. 

And  that  is  where  the  story  of  the  hysterical  childbirth  funda- 
mentally  alters  one's  understanding  of  what  was  going  on.  Freud's 
Story,  recounted  for  the  first  time  in  1932,  concentrated  on  this 
transferential  'acting  out'  as  being  the  'key  to  the  mothers'.  Yet 

22 


4- 


1 


V 


The  true  story  of  Anna  O. 

hat  concerned  him  and  Martha  in  1883  was  more  like  a  key  to  the 
"fathers,  the  key  that  Breuer  was  to  highlight  in  the  Studies  on 
Lysteria  as  so  crucial  to  understanding  the  ignorance  about  femin- 
ine sexuality  among  doctors:  the  young  doctors  overlook  the  factor 
of  sexuahty  precisely  because  they  are  blinded  by  the  presence  of 
their  own  sexuahty.  Does  this  account  not  fit  what  Freud  and 
Martha  conjectured  had  happened  to  Breuer?  Breuer  remarked  on 
the  absence  of  sexuahty  in  the  case  of  Anna  O.,  only  to  fall  victim 
to  a  sexual  crisis  in  which  he  was  suddenly  implicated,  whether  we 
take  that  crisis  to  have  primarily  been  his  wife's  chronic  jealousy  or 
the  sudden  advent  of  Bertha's  scene  of  childbirth.  Breuer  was  no 
spring  chicken  in  1882  when  the  scene  with  Bertha  occurred  (he 
was  forty  years  old)  but  did  he  quite  qualify  as  one  of  the  experi- 
enced  physicians  who  knew  of  the  importance  of  sexuality  as  a 
pathogenic  factor  in  the  neuroses?  Or  was  he  more  akin  to  one  of 
the  Juniors,  who  were  blind  to  it  because  of  their  own  preoccu- 

pations? 
So  we  are  inevfeBly  led  to  ask:  Which  came  first,  the  trans- 

ference  or  the  couhtertransference?  And  it  seems  we  can  answer 

this  question  only  with  another:  Does  it  make  sense  to  try  to 

separate  them?  Is  it  plausible  to  give  an  answer  to  this  question? 

Might  it  not  be,  for  psychoanalysis,  the  chicken-and-egg  question 

par  excellence? 

But  even  to  set  sail  in  the  uncharted  waters  of  the  transference 
and  countertransference,  Freud  had  to  adopt  a  particular  strategy 
of  defence  -  a  fruitful  defence,  given  the  future  survival  value  of 
psychoanalytic  techriique  -  that  enabled  him  to  hear  his  patients 
say  things  like  'Dr.  B.'s  child  is  Coming!'  and  immediately  respond 
by  affirming,  'Thisis  not  my  baby,  it  is  someone  eise's.  Whose?' 

The  disclaiming  of  responsibility  for  the  baby  is  the  key  to  many 
of  the  levels  we  are  dealing  with  here.  Dr  B.'s  baby  is  quite 
obviously,  on  one  level,  psychoanalysis  herseif.  Breuer  fled  from 
the  scene,  as  if  he  were  guilty.  Freud  stayed  and  disclaimed  respon- 
sibility. It  seems  so  utterly  implausible  for  Freud  to  disclaim 
responsibility  for  psychoanalysis  -  and  yet  that  is  precisely  what  he 
offen  would  do  in  later  years.  For  instance,  when  presented  in 
1909,  in  Worcester,  Massachusetts,  with  what  he  later  called  'the 
first  opportunity  of  speaking  in  public  about  psychoanalysis','«  he 
declared: 

If  it  is  a  merit  to  have  brought  psychoanalysis  into  being,  that  merit  is  not 
mine.  I  had  no  share  in  its  earliest  beginnings.  I  was  a  Student  and  working 
for  my  final  examinations  at  the  time  when  another  Viennese  physician, 

23 


:< 


%. 


<*- 


•^■^ 


l' 


;i| 


!'   '     I 


The  temptation  of  Sigmund  Freud 

Dr.  Josef  Breuer,  first  (in  1880-2)  made  use  of  this  procedure  on  a  girl  who 
was  suffering  from  hysteria.'*^ 

Freud  is  quite  unequivocal:  Breuer  is  responsible  for  psycho- 
analysis.  And  it  is  to  the  examination  of  the  theme  of  responsibility 
that  we  now  turn. 


Responsibility  and  irresponsibility 

The  interpretation  of  dreams  is  the  royal  road  to  the  unconscious. 
Freud's  first  step  down  this  royal  road  was  taken  on  24  July  1895, 
when  he  analysed  the  dream  he  had  dreamed  the  night  before:  the 
dream  of  Irma's  injection.^"  In  this  dream,  Freud  treated  a  patient 
who  was  in  reahty  causing  him  some  trouble,  not  least  as  a  result  of 
the  disapproval  for  his  method  of  treatment  he  sensed  his  col- 
leagues  feit.  In  alarm  and  anxiety  in  the  dream,  he  called  ia  a  senior 
colleague,  who  is  undoubtedly  Breuer,  and  then  two  younser 
medical  colleagues;  each  of  these  men,  but  particularly  the  Breiäer 
figure,  make  medical  fools  of  themselves,  and,  as  if  in  response, 
Freud  sees  a  chemical  formula,  trimethylamine,  which  is  a  direct 
reference  to  his  close  friend  and  colleague,  Fliess,  who  offers  him 
supportive  suggestions  and  coUaborative  discussion. 

The  analysis  of  the  dream  led  Freud  to  discern  in  the  dream  a 
complex  attempt  to  demonstrate  that  he  is  not  responsible  for  the 
failure  of  his  treatment  of  Irma;  if  she  still  has  pains,  whatever  these 
pains  are  caused  by,  it  is  clearly  not  Freud  the  dreamer's  fault. 

Freud  dreamed  the  dream  of  Irma's  injection  shortly  after  the 
publication  of  Studies  on  hysteria,  the  project  whose  accom- 
plishment  marked  the  termination  of  his  intimacy  with  Breuer,  its 
co-author.  That  book  contained  Breuer's  account  of  his  treatment 
of  Anna  O.  and  his  chapter  on  the  theory  of  hysteria,  together  with 
four  case  histories  of  women  hysterics  by  Freud  and  a  final  chapter 
by  Freud  devoted  to  the  therapy  of  hysteria;  the  authors'  'Prelimi- 
nary  communication'  of  1893,  which  Freud  had,  after  much  urgine, 
gotten  Breuer  to  collaborate  on  in  1892  following  their  Joint 
treatment  of  Frau  Cäcilie  M.,  preceded  the  case  histories.  All  of 
these  patients  were  women;  two  of  them  had  been  treated  as  a 
result  of  prolonged  and  detailed  collaboration  between  Freud  and 
Breuer  (Frau  Emmy  von  N.  and  Frau  Cäcilie  M.). 

The  Irma  dream  repeated  this  scene:  Freud's  treatment  of  a 
female  hysteric,  his  calling  in  Breuer  for  an  opinion  on  the  case. 
Already  here,  as  we  broach  the  topic  of  the  dream,  we  sense  how 

24 


» 

I" 

t 


f 


The  true  story  of  Anna  O. 
„e  complicated  relations  of  Freud's  life  and  work  are  being 
Lnreted  represented  and  selected  fron,  by  the  dream.^'  The 
rL  Cam  proposes  one  clear  Solution  .o  ques.ions  of  med.cal 
"^non  »y  i.  is  a  disciaimer  of  Freud's  responsibih.y  for  any- 
SS  goes  wrong  in  che  ,rea,ment  of  his  pafienf,  wh.le  „  ,s  also 
fsu.emen.  of  Breuor's  incompe.ence.  his  ignorance  of  what  ,s 

''thS  of  .he  dream  is  .hus  a  recapi.ula.ion  of  ,he  scene  of  .he 
oris^  of  psychoanalysis  i.self  in  so  far  as  i.  s.ages  the  exammanon 
^  a  femate  pa.ien.  by  Freud  and  Breuer.  Ye.,  m  the  dream  and  ,.s 
°  so  a^ions  .here  is  none  of  .he  sense  of  close  confi.c.-free. 
terr^onious  collaboration  .hat  can  be  perceived  .hrough  readmg 
between  .he  hnes  of  .he  Sliidies: 

n,  Breuer  and  1  knew  (Frau  Emmy  von  N.]  pretty  well  and  for  a  longtimc 
»d  we  ü    d  .0  mile  when  we  compared  her  charac.er  with  the  p.cture  of 
I  hyttedcalpsyche  whrch  can  be  traced  fron,  early  times ...  The  wonran 

we  came  to  know  was  an  admirable  one. 22 

This  atmosphere  of  warm  intimacy  had  been  established  over  long 
irrs  oHriendship,  from  the  early  1880s  on.  In  a  letter  to  h.s  fiancee 
wdlten  in  1883,  Freud  descnbed  an  evening  with  Breuer  asfollows: 
Then  we  had  supper  upstairs  in  --hirtsleeves  (at  the  n.o^ 
writine  in  a  somewhat  more  advanced  negltge),  and  then  came  a  lengmy 
medica  con  er^ation  on  moral  insanity  and  nervous  diseases  and  stränge 
Tasfh   tories    your  friend  Hertha  Pappenheim  also  cropped  up  -  and  then 
Tbe  ame  rather  personal  and  very  intimate  and  he  toi    -  ^  "umb-  ^f 
thinas  about  his  wife  and  children  and  asked  me  to  repeat  what  ht:  had  sa.d 
on ly'^  t^^^^^^^^^^^         married  your  Martha'.  And  then  I  openedup.  and  sa.d: 
This  same  Martha,  who  at  the  moment  has  a  sore  th-a Un  Dus  ^nb  00k 
is  in  realitv  a  sweet  Cordelia,  and  we  are  already  on  terms  of  the  dosest 
Tn tima;  a'nd  can  say  anything  to  each  o^her^  Whereupon  he  sa.d    e  eoo 
alwavs  calls  his  wife  by  that  name  because  she  is  mcapable  of  displayn  g 
a ffec  on  to  o  hers,  even  including  her  own  father.  And  the  ears  of  bo  h 
CA  the  one  of  37  and  the  other  of  22,  must  have  been  rmgmg  wh.le 
we  were  thinking  of  them  with  serious  tenderness.- 

As  we  know  from  the  Studies,  this  atmosphere  of  balmy  intimacy 
w  s  the  condition  for  Breuer's  being  persuaded  to  pubhsh  h. 
Tase-history  of  Anna  O.  Certainly  that  case  -uld  nev  r  be 
regarded  as  a  complete  success,  as  we  have  see-  Bertha^^^^^^^ 
confined  to  a  Sanatorium  after  the  abrupt  endmg  of  her  treatment, 
and  her  condition  continued  to  deterioriate.  Freud  wrote  to  Martha 
some  months  later: 

25 


The  seductions  of  psychoanaijsis  reflects  on  the 


1; 


hlCt'O**'«'    '^^    •r^C'\rr^V\r\'\yy'y\\rcic      »«-o    /->< 


I '^  I     ry-»«  »»^ /-|/^ 


1^^ 


The  temptation  of  Sigmund  Freud 

Bertha  is  once  again  in  the  Sanatorium  in  Gross-Enzersdorf,  I  beHeve. 
Breuer  is  constantly  talking  about  her,  says  he  wishes  she  vvere  dead  so  that 
the  poor  woman  could  be  free  of  her  suffering.  He  says  she  will  never  be 
well  again,  that  she  is  completely  shattered.^'^ 

All  of  this  material  reinforces  the  impression  gained  from  Ellenber- 
ger's  important  paper^^^  that  Breuer's  treatment  of  Anna  O.  was  in 
large  part  a  medical  disaster,  however  many  Symptoms  were 
disposed  of  through  the  talking  eure.  As  can  be  seen  from  this 
letter,  Breuer  was  considerably  agitated  over  the  fate  of  his  patient 
-  was  indeed  preoccupied,  we  may  infer,  with  the  questions  of 
medical  responsibility  that  pervaded  Freud's  work  with  neurotics  in 
the  1890s. 2^'  However,  we  have  already  seen  that  in  his  correspon- 
dence  with  Martha,  Freud  was  more  intent^on  absolving  Breuer 
from  medically  irresponsible  action  in  Berthä^s  case  than  he  was  in 
learning  the  lesson  that  Martha  could  have  taught  him  about  the 
repetition  of  Bertha's  amorous  relation  with  her  two  doctors.  'She 
was  certainly  only  jealous  of  the  demands  made  on  her  husband  by 
another  woman.'  The  readiness  with  which  Freud  assured  Martha 
of  the  restricted  focus  of  Mathilde's  jealousy  indicates  the  import- 
ance  of  his  excluding  the  possibility  that  any  other  dimension  was 
present  -for  instance,  the  demands,  implicit  or  otherwise,  that  her 
fiusband  was  making  on  the  patient.  Surely  it  would  not  have  been 
difficult  for  Freud  to  contemplate  such'demands,  given  that  he  had 
just  described  a  colleague  and  peer  of  his  who  was  sorely  tempted 
to  make  such  demands.  Freud's  initial  response,  then,  to  the 
question  of  erotic  tensions  between  doctor  and  patient  is  not 
reprobation,  nor  headshaking,  but  is  rather  one  of  focusing  on  the 
question  of  the  motives  for  the  doctor's  actions. 

In  his  view,  Breuer's  excessive  interest  in  Bertha  did  not  amount 
to  an  erotic  demand.  Martha,  however,  bypassed  such  a  fine 
distinction,  homing  in  instead  on  the  interesting  fact  that  Bertha's 
erotic  life  had  twice  become  exclusively  centred  on  her  relationship 
with  her  doctor.  Freud  was  more  intent  on  absolving  Breuer  from 
medically  irresponsible  behaviour.  And  it  is  exactly  this  theme  that 
preoccupied  Freud  on  the  night  of  24/5  July  1895,  in  the  dream  of 
Irma's  injection.  The  question  he  now  posed  himself  was:  Who  is 
responsible  for  Irma's  persistent  pains?  And  the  answers  proved 
that,  on  three  different  counts,  it  was  not  her  doctor  who  was 
responsible. 

It  is  not  only  the  dream  of  Irma's  injection  that  focuses  on  the 
question  of  medical  responsibility. ^"^  It  would  be  possible  to  argue 
that  this  is  the  central  concern  of  the  majority  of  dreams  of  his  own 

26 


v^ 


\ 


I 


5 


R 

? 


I 


kl 

d 

M 

n 

ll 
t: 


t 


k.'-' 


», 

Tv 


The  true  story  of  Anna  O. 

that  Freud  analysed  in  The  Interpretation  of  dreams.  As  we  have 
Icnown  since  Max  Schur  pubHshed  the  letters  from  Freud  to  FHess 
dealing  with  the  Emma  episode  of  March  1895,  the  dream  of  Irma's 
iniection  dealt  with  FHess'  responsibiUty  for  that  mishandled 
Operation,  as  well  as  with  Freud's  preoccupation  with  his  responsi- 
bility  for  Irma's  and  his  other  hysterics'  treatment.  We  can  extend 
the  account,  so  that  one  of  the  underlying  themes  of  the  dream- 
book  itself  is  revealed  as:  Who  is  responsible  for  psychoanalysis?^« 
There  is  a  previously  unnoticed  connection  between  the  scene  of 
the  treatment  of  Anna  O.  and  the  scene  of  the  Irma  dream  -  a 
connection  which,  if  we  were  not  dealing  with  the  prehistory  of 
psychoanalysis,  would  be  regarded  as  a  coincidence  of  no  sig- 
nificance.  As  Freud  teils  us  in  his  associations  to  the  first  dement  of 
the  dream, 

we  were  spending  that  summer  at  Bellevue,  a  house  standing  by  itself  on 
one  of  the  hüls  adjoining  the  Kahlenberg.  My  dream  was  thus  anticipating 
.  .  .  it  was  my  wife's  birthday  and  a  number  of  guests,  including  Irma,  were 
being  received  by  us  in  the  large  hall  at  Bellevue.-'^ 

As  Ellenberger"^^^  has  discovered,  Bellevue  was  also  the  name  of  the 
hospital  at  which  Anna  O.  was  consigned  by  Breuer  after  his  abrupt 
termination  of  her  treatment. '^^  This  unforeseen  connection  backs 
up  our  hypothesis  that  Freud's  Irma  dream  is  repeating  the  found- 
ing  treatment  of  Bertha  Pappenheim.  Freud  is  asking  the  question: 
was  Breuer  irresponsible  in  his  treatment  of  Bertha,  was  Fliess 
irresponsible  in  his  treatment  of  Emma,  am  I  irresponsible  in  my 
treatment  of  Irma  (Anna  Hammerschlag)  and  all  the  other  hyster- 
ics I  am  treating?-^^  Yet,  as  I  indicated  above,  it  is  only  because 
Freud  could  convert  this  question  of  personal  and  medical  ethics 
into  one  of  theoretical  significance  that  he  was  able  to  found 
psychoanalysis,  through  separating  out  the  dimension  of  trans- 
ference-countertransference.  He  avoided  taking  responsibiUty  - 
this  method  of  treatment  is  Breuer's,  not  mine,  this  patient's 
amorous  advance  is  not  directed  to  me  but  to  someone  eise,  these 
pains  are  not  due  to  me  but  to  someone  eise.  Even,  perhaps,  his 
own  child,  Anna,  who  is  in  his  wife's  womb  as  he  dreams  the  Irma 
dream,  and  is  its  symbolic  core,  its  navel,  belongs  to  someone  eise  - 
to  psychoöAinalysis,  maybe,  the  word  he  coined  six  weeks  after 
Anna's  birth,  the  child  to  which  Anna  Freud  was  to  devote  her  life. 
It  is  also  possible  to  venture  one  final  piece  of  psychoanalytic 
detective  work  on  Freud's  children,  so  as  to  ascertain  the  inter- 
action  of  theory  and  experience. 

27 


•■«?, 


!■  l 


i 


h 


•J.       J- 
'i 


?>, 


i 


ti. 


I 


The  temptation  of  Sigmund  Freud 

One  of  the  stories  Freud  told  in  'On  the  history  of  the  psychoana- 
lytic  movement'  pertained  to  a  Joint  consultation  with  Chrobak. 
The  patient's  anxiety  states  could  be  assuaged  only  by  information 
about  her  physician's  exact  whereabouts  at  all  hours  of  the  day. 
After  the  consultation,  Chrobak  mentioned  to  Freud  that  this 
patient  was  still  a  virgin,  despite  eighteen  years  of  marriage,  and 
that  in  cases  like  these  the  doctor  cannot  hope  for  a  eure  but  must 
Protect  the  husband's  reputation  with  his  own.  When  people  talk 
about  the  doctor's  inability  to  eure  such  a  patient,  all  the  doctor  can 
do  is  keep  silent.  In  such  cases,  Chrobak  went  on,  the  only  eure  was 
the  repeated  dosage  of  a  'penis  normalis\ 

It  is  possible  that  this  Joint  consultation  was  the  one  arranged  just 
as  Martha  started  labour  with  her  first  child,  Mathilde  (named  after 
Mathilde  Breuer). -^-^  And  Freud  was  brought  to  remark  in  this 
context  that 

•My  Consulting  room  is  füll  of  new  faces  .  .  .  as  if  the  birth  of  a  daughter 
were  equal  to  a  certificate  of  qualification  for  the  medical  profession. 

So  we  may  well  be  entitled  to  treat  Freud's  memory  of  the 
consultation  with  Chrobak,  as  recounted  in  1914,  as  a  screen- 
memory  of  the  birth  of  his  first  child  (a  daughter)  and  the  advent  of 
paternity.  Jokingly,  he  himself  equated  the  medical  and  paternal 
functions;  we  can  interpret  this  as  a  flight  from  the  responsibility  of 
paternity  into  that  of  the  doctor.  We  find  here  the  same  move  as 
elsewhere:  the  personal  function  of  paternity  (if  such  exists)  is 
replaced  by  the  'impersonal'  function  of  the  doctor.  The  'penis 
normalis"  which  one  might  well  have  attributed  to  Freud  following 
the  birth  of  his  first  child  is  now  to  be  hidden  behind  the  reputation 
of  the  doctor.  'It  is  not  me  who  is  the  father  of  this  child,  but  the 
doctor,  maybe  even  my  senior  colleague,  Chrobak.'  This  fantasy 
then  reverberates  in  Freud's  memory  as  the  screen-memory  of  the 
consultation,  whose  moral  is:  Tt  is  not  me  who  is  the  father  of  the 
idea  that  sexuality  lies  in  the  heart  of  the  neuroses,  but  Chrobak, 
who  would  prescribe  a  penis  normalis  if  he  could.' 

Such  remarks  could  be  made  about  the  other  stories  that  Freud 
teils  of  the  origins  of  psychoanalysis  -  those  of  Breuer  and  Charcot, 
from  the  same  pages  as  the  Chrobak  story,  and  also  all  those  other 
precursors  that  Freud  filled  his  own  writings  with.  There  is  a  stränge 
dialectic  at  work  here  between  Freud's  continual  unearthing  of 
precursors  for  the  discovery  of  psychoanalysis  (his  wish  to  disown 
responsibility  for  his  child)  and  the  quite  transparent  fact  that  only 
Freud  was  responsible  for  psychoanalysis,  that,  if  anything,  his 

28 


f 


tJ 


t 

1 

1 

(1 

t 

t 


The  true  story  of  Anna  O. 

followers  are  irremediably  weighed  down  by  the  debt  to  Freud  they 
•ncur  in  becoming  analysts.  This  debt  is  the  transference  to  Freud, 
the  defining  characteristic  of  the  profession.  In  which  case,  Freud's 
memory  of  the  case  might  well  be  intertwined  with  questions 
concerning  his  own  paternal  function. 

The  dream  of  Irma's  injection  is  thus  not  only  the  moment  when 
Freud  opened  up  the  royal  road  to  the  unconscious.  It  is  the 
repetition  of  the  founding  scene  of  psychoanalysis,  Breuer's 
treatment  of  Anna  O.,  the  analyst's  confrontation  with  the  female 
Hysterie;  and  it  is  also  an  attempt  to  avoid  repeating  Breuer's  flight 
in  the  face  of  the  anxiety  of  responsibility,  medical,  marital  and 
otherwise.  But  it  avoids  that  repetition  by  placing  the  onus  of 
responsibility  for  founding  psychoanalysis  elsewhere.  In  avoiding 
that  responsibility,  Freud  could  thus  discover  the  sexual  trans- 
ference: he  could  rename  the  moment  when  a  patient  (er  his  wife) 
said  'Dr.  Freud's  baby  is  coming!'  as  nothing  to  do  with  him. 
Someone  eise's  responsibility.  Whose? 


*?. 


Hl 


-'■;.; 


»     • 


29 


IC» 


'■  ]l 


k 


!   I 


'I  i 


•  % 


1  The  true  story  of  Anna  O. 

This  chapter  was  written  a  week  after  the  birth  of  my  daughter,  Katrina;  it 
is  dedicated  to  her. 

1  Freud,  ^Remembering,  repeating  and  workine-through'  (1914g),  SE 
XII  150. 


t  1 


318 


i^'- 


Üf^ 


^ 


4i 


W^ 


Notes  to  pages  17-18 

>  Breuer,  'Das  sexuale  Element  war  erstaunlich  unentwickelt;  die 
Kranke,  deren  Leben  mir  durchsichtig  wurde,  wie  selten  das  eines 
Menschen  einem  andern,  hatte  nie  eine  Liebe  gehabt,  und  in  all  den 
massenhaften  Halluzinationem  ihrer  Krankheit  tauchte  niemals  dieses 
Element  des  Seelenlebense  empor',  in  Studies  on  hysteria  (1895d),  SE 
II  21-2;  Studien  über  Hysterie,  p.  20. 
,  3  Letters,  pp.  409-10,  letter  dated  2  June  1932. 

4  Ibid. 

5  Earlier  in  the  letter,  Freud  remarks:  'If  things  had  been  as  your  text 
maintains,  then  everything  eise  would  have  taken  a  different  turn  [this 
indicates  the  sense  in  which  Freud  saw  the  early  history  of  psycho- 
analysis  as  crucially  dependent  on  how  this  incident  turned  out].  I  would 
not  have  been  surprised  by  the  discovery  of  sexual  aetiology,  Breuer 
would  have  found  it  more  difficult  to  refute  this  theory,  and  if  hypnosis 
could  obtain  such  candid  confessions,  I  probably  would  never  have 
abandoned  it.'  Freud  here  forgot  that  it  was  not  the  sexual  aetiology  of 
the  neuroses  that  Breuer  objected  to  but  rather  to  the  seduction  theory 
and  its  subsequent  development  in  the  theory  of  infantile  sexuality.  In 
his  biography  of  Freud,  Jones  reinforced  this  view  of  Breuer's  distaste 
for  sexuality.  One  aim  of  this  chapter  is  to  remind  us  that  the  crucial 
factor  was  never  sexuality,  but  was  rather  the  transference  and  its 
implications  for  therapeutic  technique. 

6  SE  II  246;  emphasis  in  original. 

7  SE  II  246n  1 .  In  the  conversation  with  Breuer  quoted  below  in  the  letter 
from  Freud  to  Martha,  Breuer  asked  Freud  to  repeat  certain  things  only 
after  he  was  married,  an  injunction  that  foreshadows  the  picture  of  the 
veil  of  secrecy  drawn  by  senior  doctors  over  the  subject  of  sexuality. 
Freud's  response  to  this  injunction  is  also  a  foreshadowing:  in  claiming 
that  he  can  already  say  anything  to  his  wife,  he  im.plicitly  refuses  to  obey 
any  such  injunction  to  secrecy,  a  position  he  will  vigorously  defend  in 
the  Dora  case-history  as  necessary  in  any  scientific  study  (see  SE  VII 9). 
In  the  Story  Freud  recounted  later  (see  note  16  below;  SE  XIV  13), 
Breuer  expressed  himself  as  follows:  These  things  are  always  secrets 
d'alcöve\\  and  when  asked  by  the  young  Freud  what  he  meant, 
explained  what  the  word  alcöve  (marriage  bed)  meant  -  again,  Breuer 
took  this  topic  to  be  one  in  which  the  dialectic  of  the  knowledge  of 
experience  and  the  ignorance  of  innocence  was  paramount.  Freud's 
conception  was  altogether  differently  oriented. 

8  In  his  new  edition  of  the  Freud/Fliess  correspondence  {The  complete 
letters  of  Sigmund  Freud  to  Wilhelm  Fliess.  1887-1904),  J.M.  Masson 
includes  a  lengthy  note  translating  some  comments  of  Breuer's  on 
Freud's  theories  concerning  the  sexual  aetiology  of  the  neuroses, 
delivered  to  the  Vienna  College  of  Physicians  on  4  November  1895, 
when  he  supported  Freud  in  public  but  told  Freud  in  private:  'But  all 
the  same,  I  don't  believe  it.'  At  the  public  meeting,  Breuer  had  said: 
'Especially  in  the  case  of  the  female  sex,  the  complaint  about  the 

319 


I 


'■«■»^ 


\ 


I 


-i ! 


m 


■r" 


'  i 


Notes  to  pages  19-21 

underestimation  of  the  sexual  factor  is  justified.  It  is  not  rieht 
example,  that  in  the  case  of  girls  who  suffer  from  insomnia  etc 
simply  prescribes  iron  for  anemia,  without  even  thinking  öf  mj  ^""^ 
bation,  while  in  the  case  of  young  men  we  immediately  look  for  ^1^' 
tions.  In  this  respect  we  are  in  a  State  of  hysteria;  we  repress  this  feel 
which  is  unpleasant  to  us.  We  simply  know  nothing  about  the  sexualitw 
girls  and  women.  No  physician  has  any  idea  what  sorts  of  Symptoms 
erection  evokes  in  women ,  because  the  young  women  do  not  want  to  ta^k 
about  it  and  the  old  ones  have  already  forgotten'  (p.  151nl).  Breuer  thu 
repeated  the  same  structure  of  argument,  with  some  of  the  terms 
changed:  where  he  had  talked  of  older  and  younger  doctors,  he  now 
talked  of  old  and  young  women.  And  the  'unpleasant  feeling'  that  he  is 
referring  to  seems  likely  to  have  been  the  unpleasantness  of  recognising 
the  sexuality  of  women.  It  is  this  unpleasantness  that  Freud  was  to  imply 
had  prevented  Breuer  from  recognising  the  importance  of  the  dramatic 
events  which  terminated  his  treatment  of  Bertha.  Breuer's  harping  on 
the  axis  of  'older/younger'  -  something  Freud  was  never  once  to  do 
throughout  his  writings  on  sexuality  -  indicates  that  he  attributed  some 
change  in  his  position  over  the  period  1882  to  1895  to  his  having  become 
a  'senior'  in  the  mean  time. 
9  Letter  of  31  Oct.  1883.  It  is  a  mystery  why  this  letter  was  not  published 
in  the  original  edition  of  Freud's  correspondence,  since  it  is  of  great 
historical  and  personal  interest;  the  hypothesis  of  a  general  cover-up  of 
the  Freudian  skeletons  will  not  explain  its  Omission,  since  all  the 
important  elements  had  been  at  least  alluded  to  in  Jones'  account  in  his 
biography  of  Freud.  This  letter  was  quoted  in  an  appendix  to  the 
manuscript  of  the  complete  edition  of  the  Freud-Fliess  correspondence 
prepared  by  J.M.  Masson,  but  unfortunately  this  appendix  was  not 
published.  Masson  discusses  at  some  length  the  question  of  the  fluc- 
tuations  of  Freud's  relations  with  Breuer,  and  the  vexed  question  of  the 
origin  of  the  various  stories  about  the  abrupt  end  of  Anna  O.'s 
treatment.  He  concludes  that  the  matter  is  not  decided  by  the  survey  of 
the  available  evidence,  nor  by  the  new  evidence  he  introduces:  namely, 
the  previously  unpublished  letters  to  Fliess  made  available  in  his  edition 
of  the  Complete  letters,  the  unpublished  letters  to  Breuer  from  which  he 
quotes,  and  the  unpublished  letters  between  Sigmund  and  his  fiancee, 
which  he  also  quotes  and  cites  from  at  length.  I  would  like  to  thank 
Sigmund  Freud  Copyrights  for  permission  to  quote  from  these  letters. 

10  Letter  of  2  Nov.  1883;  translation  slightly  adapted. 

11  Letter  of  4  Nov.  1883. 

12  'Es  ist  merkwürdig,  der  armen  Bertha  ist  nie  ein  anderer  Mann  näher 
getreten  als  ihr  jeweiliger  Arzt,  das  heisst  die  hätte  als  Gesunde  schon 
das  Zeug  dazu,  dem  vernünftigsten  Manne  den  Kopf  zu  verdrehen,  ist 
das  ein  Unglück  mit  dem  Mädchen,  nicht  wahr.' 

13  'Josef  Breuer'  (1925g),  SE  XIX  280:  'I  found  reason  later  to  suppose 
.  .  that  a  purely  emotional  factor,  too,  had  given  him  an  aversion  to  further 

320 


<!4^H 

■PI 

ri4 

1 

■ 

ri6 

• '^^1 

v^^B 

HSSniSu.^ 

'    A  ' 

18 
19 


20 


21 


<-. 


Notes  to  pages  21-5 

work  on  the  elucidation  of  the  neuroses.  He  had  come  up  against 
something  that  is  never  absent  -  his  patient's  transference  on  to  her 
physician,  and  he  had  not  grasped  the  impersonal  nature  of  the 
process.' 

|l4  'On  the  history  of  the  psycho-analytic  movement'  (1914d),  SE  XIV  12. 

15  In  the  unpublished  Appendix  cited  above  (note  9). 
|l6  A  reference  to  the  three  stories  told  Freud  by  these  three  senior 

'  colleagues  when  he  was  a  young  man,  each  implying  that  sexuaUty  was 
the  key  to  the  neuroses.  See  *On  the  history  of  the  psycho-analytic 
movement'  (1914d),  SE  XIV  12-15. 

17  Cf.  Lacan's  account  of  the  Breuer-Bertha-Freud  scene,  in  Sem  X, 
Session  4,  5  Dec.  1962  (unpublished):  'Breuer  bit  the  bait  that  Anna  O.' 
offered  him,  whereas  Freud  was  neurotic.  And  since  he  was  both 
intelligent  and  courageous,  he  knew  how  to  make  use  of  his  own  anxiety 
when  faced  with  his  desire  -  which  was  at  the  bottom  of  his  ridiculous 
^^,  attachment  to  this  impossible  fine  lady  who,  what  is  more,  buried  him 
and  who  was  known  as  Frau  Freud  -  and  knew  how  to  make  use  of  it  in 
Order  to  project  onto  the  X-ray  plate  of  his  fidelity  to  this  fantasised 
object,  so  as  to  be  able  to  recogiii.se  there  without  even  blinking  for  one 
moment  what  it  was  necessary  to  do,  namely  to  understand  what  all  this 
was  for  and  to  admit  straight  off  that  Anna  O.  had  her  sights  perfectly 
trained  on  him,  Freud,  but  clearly  he  was  a  little  harder  to  get  than  the 
other,  Breuer.  It  really  is  because  of  this  that  we  owe  our  entry  into 
analysis  through  fantasy  and  a  rational  employment  of  the  trans- 
ference.' 

18  'On  the  history  of  the  psycho-analytic  movement'  (1914d),  SE  XIV  17. 

19  Five  lectures  on psycho-analysis  (1910a  [1909]),  SE  XI  9.  Freud  adapted 
and  in  part  retracted  this  version  of  the  origins  of  psychoanalysis,  when 
he  came  to  write  'On  the  history  of  the  psycho-analytic  movement^  in 
1914.  Strachey  supplies  useful  notes  on  this  subject,  appended  to  the 
texts  quoted  from  here.  See  also  some  remarks  in  chapter  9,  this 
volume,  pp.  235ff. 

20  See  The  Interpretation  ofdreams  (1900^),  SE  IV  106-21.  This  'specimen 
dream'  of  psychoanalysis,  as  Freud  called  it,  has  been  the  object  of  a 
great  deal  of  attention  and  analysis;  I  will  deal  with  it,  together  with 
many  of  the  themes  raised  in  this  chapter,  in  my  forthcoming  book,  The 
dream  of  psychoanalysis. 

21  This  manner  of  treating  the  history  of  psychoanalysis  can  be  further 
developed,  which  I  will  not  be  able  to  do  in  this  chapter.  It  will  suffice  to 
Signal  a  further  hypothesis  offered  by  Anzieu  in  his  UAuto-analyse  de 
Freud,  pp.  690ff.,  with  respect  to  the  'Table  dlwte'  dream  (SE  V  638), 
where  the  woman  friend  who  figures  in  the  dream  is  identified  with 
Bertha  Breuer,  sister  of  Dora  Breuer,  and  sister-in-law  of  Anna 
Hammerschlag  (Irma  of  the  Irma  dream),  and  is  linked  up  with  the 
roughly  contemporaneous  Dora  case  -  to  the  extent  that  Anzieu 
surmises  that  Dora's  name  is  taken  from  Dora  Breuer,  so  that  Dora 

321 


I 


L'Ä» 


and 

ym 


?04. 


^i 


»89 


'i 


I 


I 


!i 


iff'!^^ 


i! 


>l 


Notes  to  pages  25-7 

becomes  a  revenant  of  Anna  O./Bertha  Pappenheim.  Herr  K.  in  Dor  • 
Story  then  corresponds  to  Breuer:   the  man  'seduced'  by  a  vou^^ 
Hysterie  (just  as  the  friend  in  the  dream  seduces  Freud)  -  see  /  'a.  ,"^ 
analyse,p.l22.  '^"'°- 

22  SE  II 103.  Or  note  the  close  collaboration  between  Freud  and  Breuer ' 
the  treatment  of  Frau  Emmy  von  N.:  see,  for  instance,  SE  II  54,5 
where  Breuer  pops  in  and  out  of  the  treatment  room,  while  Freud 
quickly  takes  over  the  position  of  authority  that  Breuer  had  previousiv 
occupied  for  the  patient.  by  teliing  her  'a  white  lie',  thus  aiding  thl 
mcrease  of  Freud's  influenae  over  her. 

23  Letters,  pp.  55-6,  letter  dated  13  July  1883. 

24  Letter  dated  5  Aug.  1883. 

25  Eilenberger,  'The  story  of  "Anna  O.'",  pp.  267-79. 

26  See  chapter  2,  pp.  38ff. 

27  In  his  comprehensive  account  of  Freud's  dreams  and  self-anaiysis 
Anzieu  remarks  on  the  importance  of  the  theme  of  responsibihty' 
making  remarks  that  support  the  thesis  advanced  here.  See,  in  par- 
ticular,  L'/l«/o-arta/y5e,  pp.  609and659. 

To  take  only  one  example  among  the  many  dreams  concerned  with 
respons.bihty,  and  medical  responsibihty  in  particular:  One  of  the  key 
dreams  m  Freud's  'self-analysis'  was  the  dream  of  a  memory  of  taking 
money  from  a  doctor's  wife  wrongfuliy,  and  thus  revolved  around  the 
theme  of  Freud's  steahng  from  his  patients  the  money  they  pay  him  for 
treatment;  this  led  back  to  a  childhood  scene  in  which  he  stole  money 
from  his  mother  at  the  bebest  of  his  nurse,  who  was  sacked  and 
imprisoned  when  it  was  discovered  (see  Complete  letters,  letter  of  3/4 
Oct.  1897).  Or,  in  the  dream  'Autodidasker  (SE  IV  298-302),  Freud's 
perennial  concern  to  be  right  about  a  diagnosis  of  the  sexual  aetiology 
of  the  neuroses  allows  the  'deeper'  wishes,  concerning  the  fate  of  his 
children,  to  find  expression. 

•  One  of  the  other  major  dreams  discussed  in  the  book,  the  dream  of 
the  botanical  monograph,  can  also  be  seen  as  a  repetition  of  the  Irma 
dream  (see  SE  IV  176,  where  Freud  vvonders  what  would  have 
happened  if  the  woman  in  this  botanical/floral  dream  had  been  calied 
Anna  [Irma's  real  name],  not  Flora),  and  is  also  a  dream  preoccupied 
with  medical  responsibility  (made  explicit  by  Freud,  in  SE  IV  173)-  the 
dream  was  in  the  nature  of  'a  self-justification,  a  plea  on  behalf  of  my 
own  rights'. 

28  The  theme  of  responsibility  is  far  larger  than  I  have  time  and  space  to 
devote  to  it  here.  My  thinking  on  this  subject  is  very  close  to  that  of 
Cottet,  Freud  et  le  desir  du  psychanalyste.  For  example,  in  discussing 
the  relation  between  countertransference  and  the  responsibility  of  the 
analyst,  Cottet  remarks  (p.  169):  The  notion  of  countertransference 
has  for  a  long  time  taken  the  place  of  a  conceptual  response  to  this 
question,  and  has  relegated  to  second  place  considerations  concerning 
the  responsibility  of  the  analyst  in  the  conduct  of  the  eure.' 

322 


4: 


Notes  to  pages  27-32 

29  SE  IV  108. 

30  Ellenberger,  The  Story  of  ''Anna  0."\ 

31  It  is  not  certain  that  Breuer  ceased  seeing  her  in  July  1882,  when  she 
was  moved  to  Bellevue,  at  Kreuzungen,  until  29  October  1882.  Hut  he 
wrote  out  her  case,  which  formed  the  basis  for  the  report  in  Studies  on 
hysteria,  probably  shortly  after  the  latest  date  mentioned  in  the  report, 
June  1882,  which  is  also  when  his  account  of  his  treatment  of  Anna  O. 
in  the  Studies  ends.  It  seems  most  plausible,  then,  given  the  available 
evidence,  to  date  Breuer's  flight  from  Anna  O.  in  June  1882.  This  does 
not  explain  all  the  elements  of  the  history:  we  have  yet  to  discover  how 
Freud  managed  to  believe  that  Breuer's  daughter,  Dora,  was  conceived 
on  a  second  honeymoon  decided  upon  in  order  to  escape  from  the 
threat  that  Anna  O.  posed  to  his  marriage.  See  the  letter  to  Stefan 
Zweig  quoted  above  (note  3),  esp.  p.  408. 

There  is  a  further  coincidence  in  the  history  of  psychoanalysis 
associated  with  the  hospital  at  Bellevue,  in  the  town  of  Kreuzlingen,  in 
Switzerland,  also  previously  unremarked  upon.  The  Binswanger  family 
were  the  doctors  in  Charge  of  the  Sanatorium  there  over  several  decades 
-at  the  time  when  Bertha  wasplaced  there  by  Breuer,  and  then  in  1912 
when  Ludwig  Binswanger  was  a  patient  there,  in  danger  of  death. 
Freud  went  to  visit  him  in  secret  there,  and  Jung  took  this  rapid 
weckend  visit  to  a  town  close  by  Zürich  of  which  he  was  uninformed  as 
a  gesture  of  rejection.  It  became  known  as  the  'Kreuzungen  gesture', 
and  was  the  moment  from  which  Freud  and  Jung  dated  the  beginning  of 
their  esträngement.  See  The  Freud/Jung  letters,  pp.  509-10. 

32  The  fact  that  Bertha  was  a  friend  of  Martha's,  the  fact  that  Anna 
Hammerschlag  as  well  as  her  friend  in  the  Irma  dream,  Sophie 
Schwab-Paneth,  were  members  of  the  Freud  circle  of  friends,  th^  fact 
that  the  Breuers  and  the  Hammerschlags  were  intermarrying  -  all  these 
overlappings  between  medical  and  family  ties  are  of  great  significance, 
but  can  only  be  mentioned  here  rather  than  analysed  in  detail.  See  my 
forthcoming  The  dream  of  psychoanalysis. 

33  Letters,  p.  236,  letter  dated  24  Oct.  1887. 


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I*  ' 

I'  I 


FREUD'S CLARK  UNIVERSITY  LECTURES 
RECONSIDERED* 


PAUL  ROAZEN 

11  St.  Andrews  Garden 
Toronto,  Canada  M4W  2C9 


The  five  lectures  Freud  dclivcrcd  at  Clark  Univcrsity  in  Septem- 
ber 1909  are  justifiably  famous.  The  occasion  was  a  nieniorable 
onc:  **Freud  spoke  .  .  .  to  a  highly  traincd  and  distinguished  group, 
dottcd  with  nien  of  real  cminence  in  psychology  and  related  ficids, 
in  the  coursc  of  an  event  of  widely  acknowlcdged  intellectual  dis- 
tinction"  (Ross,  1972,  p.  389).  Clark  University  in  Worcestcr, 
Massachusetts,  under  the  leadership  of  G.  Stanley  Hall,  was  to  bc 
ihc  only  institution  ever  to  award  Freud  an  honorary  degrce.  For 
Freud  the  trip  to  North  America,  which  includcd  somc  steps 
icross  the  border  into  Canada  at  Niagara  Falls,  rcpresented  a  taste 
of  dcarly  sought  academic  recognition.  If  Freud  retained  a  lasting 
disdain  for  most  things  American,  some  of  the  people  he  met  at 
Clark,  such  as  William  James,  werc  to  be  among  the  exccptions 
Ihat  for  Freud  always  proved  his  ruies  (Roazen,  1 975). 

Many  readers  have  been  first  introduced  to  psychoanalysis  by 
Ihc  clear  exposition  of  his  ideas  that  Freud  worked  out  for  his 
American  audience.  As  late  as  1957  James  Strachey  thought  that 
'*in  spite  of  all  the  additions  that  were  to  bc  niade  to  the  structure 
of  psychoanalysis  during  the  following  quartcrof  a  Century,  thesc 
lectures  still  provide  an  admirable  preliminary  picture  which  calls 
for  very  little  correction."  Almost  forty  years  have  passed  since 
Freud's  death;  by  examining  his  text  in  the  contcxt  of  the  mind/- 
body  Problem  we  should  have  a  good  idea  of  the  contours  of 
Frcud's  concepts. 

•Prcparcd  for  tlie  program  on  the  Mind/Body  at  the  1977  meetings  of  tlic  American 
Acadcmy  of  Psychoanalysis.  Also  presentcd  at  the  Meeting  of  the  American  Academy  of 
hychoanalysis,  Toronto,  April  1977. 


447 


I.Amcr.  Acad.  Psychoanalysis,  5(4):  447-458 
0  1977  by  John  Wiley  &  Sons,  Inc. 


448  /  ROAZEN 


FREUD'S  LECTURES  RECONSIDERED  /449 


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Freud  began  his  first  lecture  with  a  bow  to  liis  early  nicntor 
Josef  Breuer.  In  giving  his  account  of  the  history  of  the  psycho- 
analytic  "method  of  examination  and  treatment,"  Freud  gcne^ 
ously  claiined  that  it  was  Breuer  who  merited  the  credit  for  having 
created  psychoanalysis.  Within  five  years,  however,  after  the  splils 
with  Alfred  Adler  and  Carl  G.  Jung,  Freud  corrected  his  remarks 
in  connection  with  Breuer,  assuming  (as  he  put  it  in  a  footnotc 
added  in  1923  to  his  Clark  lectures)  "the  entire  responsibility  for 
psychoanalysis." 

Freud  began  his  discussion  at  Clark  by  nioving  inimediately  lo 
Breuer's  famous  case  of  "Anna  O."  Over  half  of  Freud's  first  leo 
ture  was  taken  up  with  some  of  the  details  of  Anna  O.'s  afflictions, 
and  the  course  of  Breuer's  cathartic  treatment  of  her  in  1880-82. 
She  suffered  from  florid  symptomatology  which  ought  not,  Freud 
contended,  to  be  mistakenly  attributed  to  physical  aetiology. 
Anna  0.  had  a  paralysis  and  loss  of  Sensation  at  the  extrcmitici 
of  one  side  of  her  body  —  and  suffered  from  the  sanie  probicm 
sometiines  on  her  other  side.  Her  sight  was  restricted,  and  her  eye 
movements  peculiar.  She  nervously  coughed,  and  had  a  probicm 
with  the  way  she  held  her  head.  She  atc  with  extreme  difficully, 
and  was  unable  to  drink  for  some  weeks  in  spite  of  being  intcnsciy 
thirsty.  At  several  points  she  was  unable  to  speak  or  undcrstand 
German,  her  language,  whilc  communicating  instead  in  English. 
She  could  also  be  subject  to  what  the  French  called  "absenccs,*' 
or  confusional  states.  She  had,  in  the  terminology  of  the  nine- 
teenth  Century,  taken  to  her  bed. 

Freud  expressed  satisfaction  that  the  majority  of  liis  audicncc 
was  a  nonmedical  one,  since  according  to  his  experience  conven- 
tional  medical  wisdom  of  that  timc  was  too  apt  to  be  therapcutic» 
ally  pessimistic.  The  Freud  of  the  pre-World  War  I  era  was  unlikc 
the  aloof  victim  of  Cancer  of  his  old  age;  at  the  time  of  his  trip  lo 
America  in  1909  he  was  centrally  conccrned  with  Symptoms  and 
the  alleviation  of  mental  suffering.  In  an  interview  Freud  gave  in 
Worcester  for  the  Boston  Transcript  he  declared:  "As  you  askmc 
about  my  own  method  of  psychotherapy  I  must  first  mention  that 
there  are  of  course  many  sorts  and  ways  of  psychotherapy.  All  arc 
good  if  they  accompüsh  their  object,  that  is  cffect  a  eure"  (Rui* 
tenbeck,  1973). 

Anna  O.'s  kind  of  "hysteria"  deservcd,  Freud  held,  the  sym* 
pathy  and  understanding  of  the  therapist.  Paradoxically,  a  favor- 
able  prognosis  for  the  patient's  recovery  too  often  deprivcd  Ihc 
physician  of  the  caring  attitude  he  would  have  for  suffcrcrs  of 


organic  diseases.  Novel  theories  wcre  needed  to  underniine  a  sim- 
plistic  moral  injunction  for  the  patient  to  pull  herseif  togcther. 
Furthermore,  the  hysteric's  symptomatology  violated  common 
sense  assumptions  about  the  mind  and  the  body.  Freud  thought 
the  ailments  of  Breucr's  patient  could  be  satisfactorily  explained 
by  Breucr's  technique  of  going  back  to  their  earliest  appearance. 
Tlirough  what  Anna  O.  called  the  "talking  eure,"  or  "chimney 
sweeping,"  it  proved  "possible  to  bring  about  the  disappearance  of 
the  painful  Symptoms  of  her  illness,  if  she  could  be  brought  to 
rcmember  under  hypnosis,  with  an  accompanying  expression  of 
affect,  on  what  occasion  and  in  what  connection  the  symptom 
had  first  appeared"  (Strachey,  1957,  p.  14).  Freud  wasconvinced 
that  Anna  O.'s  Symptoms  proved  to  be  the  outcome  of  unrcsolved 
emotional  experiences. 

Oddly  enough  Freud  had  picked  a  patient  who  had  not  in  fact 
been  successfully  treated  by  psychotherapy.  It  is  true  that  in  later 
iife  she  became  a  famous  Gennan  social  worker;  the  Government 
of  West  Germany  honored  her  after  World  WarTwo  by  printing  a 
postage  stamp  with  her  picture.  Perhaps  her  successful  career  helps 
explain  why  Ernest  Jones,  Freud's  authorized  biographer,  revealed 
the  patient's  name  "much  to  the  family's  displeasure"  (Ellcn- 
berger,  1972).  But  Professor  Henri  Ellenberger  has  convincingly 
unearthed  material  which  supports  a  contention  of  Jung's  that 
Freud  had  told  him  about  Anna  O.  as  a  therapeutic  failure.  Unlike 
Freud,  Jones  mentioned  in  print  that  Anna  O.  had  not  fared  '*so 
well  as  one  might  gather  from  Breucr's  published  account.  Re- 
lapses  took  place,  and  she  was  removed  to  an  institution  .  .  ." 
(Jones,  1954).  In  addition  to  her  other  problems,  after  Breucr's 
cathartic  treatment  Anna  O.  was  addicted  to  morphine.  Füll  re- 
covery took  place  only  later,  but  the  recuperative  process  rcmains 
shrouded  in  mystery  (Ellenberger,  1972). 

It  is  hard  not  to  question  why  Freud  chose  to  repeat  Breucr's 
rcluctant  use  of  this  particular  case  history.  Early  on  Freud  feit 
the  need  to  Surround  his  own  beginnings  with  a  historical  context, 
and  evidently  by  1909  he  still  wanted  to  establish  a  heritage  be- 
hind  his  own  characteristic  therapeutic  approach,  a  continuity 
with  forcrunners.  Freud  complaincd  afterwards  that  Breuer  had 
failed  to  include  his  own  counter-transference  feelings  towards  his 
attractive  and  highly  intelligent  young  patient.  (It  has  not  been 
possible  to  document  the  stories  Freud  told  people  hkc  Ernest 
Jones  and  James  Strachey  about  Breucr's  reactions  to  Anna  O.'s 
transferences.)  In  1914  Freud  wrotc:  "It  will  be  remembercd  that 


■tTi^ 


450  /  ROAZEN 

Breuer  said  of  his  famous  first  paticnt  that  the  elenient  of  sexual« 
ity  was  astonishingly  undeveloped  in  her  and  had  contribulcd 
nothing  to  the  very  rieh  chnical  niaterial  of  the  case."*  Breuers 
report,  however,  does  not  conform  to  Freud's  description;  for 
while  Breuer  pointed  out  her  lack  of  sexual  development,  he  had 
not  gone  on  to  deny  any  role  erotic  feelings  might  havc  playcd  in 
her  disturbances. 

Enough  time  has  elapsed  so  that  we  have  a  clearer  picturc  of 
how  much  both  Breuer  and  Freud  left  out.  Despite  Frcud^s  inlCT» 
est  in  Anna  O.'s  particular  Symptoms,  he  teils  us  notliing  about  her 
religious  background.  (Her  family  was  an  orthodox  Jewish  onc.) 
Although  onc  might  infer  niaterial  about  her  social  class,  Freud 
isolates  individual  Symptoms  from  their  human  context.  For  ex« 
ample,  Anna  O.  had  a  lady  companion  she  evidently  did  not  canc 
for;  yet  at  Clark  Freud  focused  on  a  symptom  like  "disgusf*  at  hcf 
lady  companion's  dog,  and  how  this  influenced  her  own  problcmi, 
without  drawing  attention  to  the  larger  social  dilemnia  Anna  0. 
found  herseif  in.  It  is  not  just  that  Freud,  as  well  as  Breuer,  OYC^ 
looked  the  cultural  Situation  of  talented  young  women  of  that  cnt 
But  even  in  describing  the  effects  on  Anna  O.  of  the  dcathof  her 
father  Freud  report s  no  curiosity  about  what  the  fathcr  mitbt 
have  been  like,  nor  the  quality  of  his  relationship  to  his  daughlcr. 
It  therefore  becomes  impossible  to  accept  Freud's  confidcnt  pri^ 
diction  of  exactly  what  kind  of  additional  Symptoms  shc  migbl 
have  developed  without  the  benefit  of  Breuer's  treatment. 

Symptoms  must  be  evaluated  in  the  context  of  interpersonal, 
social,  and  somatic  data.  Ernest  Jones  characterized  Anna  O.  M 
having  developed  ''a  museum  of  Symptoms"  (Jones,  1954,  p.  245)* 
His  metaphor  is  suggestive:  if  patients  no  longer  fall  ill  that  wa)\ 
what  can  account  for  it?  Sex  and  biology  are  not  the  samc  thinf; 
even  if  Anna  O.  were  sexually  disabled,  it  does  not  follow  tlialH 
was  improper  for  some  people  to  remain,  as  did  Anna  0.,  childicii 
and  unmarried.  Any  concept  of  symptomatology  has  to  includc,  ia 
addition  to  physical  components,  moral  as  well  as  social  elcmcnlk 
Symptoms  can  be  a  warning  signal,  a  challenge  to  bewarc  of  «If* 
betrayal.  From  the  point  of  view  of  a  therapist,  helping  people  hu 
to  be  understood  in  terms  of  the  pre-existence  of  certain  social 
norms.  Implicitly  Freud  may  have  been  aware  of  some  of  then 
Problems;  for  although  he  had  started  out  as  a  clinical  workcr,  bjf 

♦"On  the  History  of  the  Psychoanalytic  Movement,"  in  Vol.  XIV,  The  Standard  SS^ 
tion,  p.  11. 


^1 


FREUD'S  LECTURES  RECONSIDERED  /  45 1 

Ihe  end  of  his  life  he  preferrcd  to  take  his  stand  as  a  pure  scientist. 

Essentially  in  1909  Freud  was  using  Anna  O.'s  case  history  for 
the  sake  of  illustrating  the  psychological  principles  he  had  cvolved 
by  then;  detours,  which  might  seem  warrantcd  today,  would  have 
contradicted  his  purposes  and  distracted  his  audience.  Every  ncu- 
rotic,  Freud  held,  clings  emotionally  to  the  past:  "They  cannot  get 
free  of  the  past  and  for  its  sake  they  neglect  what  is  real  and  im- 
mcdiate"  (Five  lectures  .  .  .  ,  p.  17).  Emotions  consist  in  "displace- 
ablc  magnitudes."  If  affects  were  "strangulated"  they  had  to  find 
an  **abnormar'  outlet.  Here  Freud  was  bent  on  sumniarizing  the 
now-famous  concept  of  convcrsion.  But  even  apart  from  hysteria 
Freud  held  that  "a  certain  portion  of  our  mental  excitation  is  nor- 
mally  directed  along  the  paths  of  somatic  innervations  and  pro- 
duccs  what  we  know  as  an  'expression  of  emotions'"  (ibid.,  p.  18). 
Symptoms  arise  from  inappropriate  discharge.  Through  correcting 
gaps  in  memory  the  therapist  can  hope  to  remove  the  conditions 
from  which  symptomatology  originally  arose. 

Freud  found  liistorical  consciousness  a  useful  mcans  of  intro- 
ducing  novices  to  his  psychology.  And  so  he  began  his  second  Icc- 
lurc  by  recounting  his  experiences  as  a  student  of  Charcot's  in 
Paris.  Freud  and  Breuer  had  started  out  by  equating  psychological 
Iraumas  with  the  effects  of  somatic  ones,  although  as  Freud 
pointed  out  it  had  not  been  Charcot,  for  all  his  interest  in  demon- 
strating  hysterical  paralyses,  but  his  student  Pierre  Janet,  who 
followed  up  on  the  psychological  train  of  thought. 

Freud  then  introduced  a  concept  distinctive  to  his  own  way  of 
Ihinking:  resistance.  Neurotics  suffer  from  forgottcn  mcniories, 
but  lost  recollections  survive  unconsciously.  Although  that  which 
is  dcfended  against  seeks  relcase,  inner  obstacles  interfcrc  with  for- 
biddcn  gratifications.  According  to  Freud  those  blocks  in  turn 
rcsist  the  therapist's  efforts  to  revive  past  memorics.  Freud's  con- 
cept of  resistance,  however,  has  proved  a  controversial  one,  since 
it  opcns  the  way  to  the  patient's  healthy  ego  feeling  the  analyst 
must  always  possess  supcrior  knowledge.  Yet  in  terms  of  his  own 
cra  Freud  was  attempting  to  be  less  authoritarian  than  others  in 
ipproaching  "nervous"  difficulties. 

From  our  own  standpoint  Freud  seems  excessivcly  confidcnt 
ibout  his  ability  to  attain  therapeutic  success.  He  based  his  theory 
of  the  necessity  of  removing  resistance  on  supposed  processes  of 
recovery.  "Starting  out  from  the  mechanism  of  eure,  it  now  be- 
comes possible  to  construct  quite  definite  ideas  of  the  origin  of 
Ihc  illness"  (ibid.,  p.  23).  Patients,  Freud  argued,  suffcr  from  inner 


452  /  ROAZEN 


FREUD'S  LECTURES  RECONSIDERED  /  453 


!t 


conflicts;  rather  than  face  the  pain  of  acknowledging  wishtllt 
odds  with  ethical  and  aesthetic  Standards,  repression  comcstel# 
play.  A  conflict  betwcen  opposing  mental  forces  charactcrizciplj|Pfc^ 
chological  problems.  Freud  thought  that  the  techniquc  of  tm 
associations,  rather  than  hypnosis,  is  valuable  precisciy  bccauMi 
enables  the  therapist  to  observe  resistances  and  reprcssions.  Sfmf^ 
toms  are  a  sign  of  unsuccessful  handüng  of  wishes  which  arc  ioHl 
erable.  Ailments  are  Substitutes  for  repressed  ideas. 

Freud  had  beheved  that  his  hosts  were  a  practically  orieMud 
people,  and  only  in  his  third  lecture  did  he  try  to  outline  fjb 
broader  imphcations  of  his  theories.  Jokes  were  illustrationifli«! 
normal  life  of  the  Operation  of  distorted  Substitutes  for  undeft|im 
complexes.  Slips  and  above  all  dreams  were  other  everyday  Mt^ 
ues  to  knowledge  of  the  repressed  unconscious.  Sincc  FffiA 
death  there  has  been  so  much  attention  given  to  ego  psycbokl0^  '^, 
that  it  is  worth  pointing  out  how  restricted  a  view  of  the  egolf 
had  as  of  1909;  when  Freud  spoke  about  "the  ego's  forccio(# 
fence"  he  specified  that  he  had  in  mind  "resistances"  (iblJ,,  p.]S|p  : 
The  distortions  behind  Symptoms  help  to  explain  the  diigalMI 
that  take  place  in  dreaming.  Freud  proposed  that  we  only  (tMB 
repressed  wishes  by  means  of  a  variety  of  unconscious  subte 

Although  by  now  we  take  the  principle  almost  for 
Freud's  1909  pronouncement  about  the  momentous  signi 
of  childhood  experiences  was  by  no  means  a  commonplicc 
dreams  he  thought  "the  child  that  is  in  man  pursues  itse 
.  .  .  "  (ibid.,  p.  36).  In  the  face  of  the  human  capacity  tot 
past  Problems  into  the  present,  Freud's  aim  was  that  ofcnl 
ment.  He  was  fully  confident  of  the  ability  of  his  techniquct 
bring  the  pathogenic  psychical  material  into  consciousness  udlä 
to  get  rid  of  the  ailments  that  have  been  brought  about  by  ttüflfs^ 
mation  of  substitutive  Symptoms"  (ibid.,  p.  38).  % 

But  as  we  lock  back  at  Freud  in  1909  it  is  hard  to  bclicitlM 
he  was  justified  in  advocating  his  techniques  as  if  they  couMll 
learnt  in  anything  like  the  manncr  of  the  methods  of  hislolc^ygr 
surgery.  Instead  of  living  up  to  the  ideal  of  self-knowlcdgc  fttsä 
had  succeeded  in  deceiving  himself  about  the  objcctivily  of  Ihl^ 
conclusions.  For  from  today's  perspective  it  is  clear,  as  it  wtl  Ü 
many  of  Freud's  contemporarics,  that  what  he  had  to  offer  wm 
best  described  as  hypotheses  rather  than  as  "findings."  And  iatcl 
ence  hypotheses  are  valuable  to  the  extent  they  are  capabk  it 
being  fruitful  of  further  developments,  including  altcralioo  ttd 
correction;  as  a  scientist  therefore  Freud  should  havc  been 
cautious. 


Only  in  his  fourth  lecture  did  Freud  pinpoint  the  role  in  his  sys- 
ktn  of  erotic  factors.  He  assigncd  "predominant  significance"  to 
*ci0tic  disturbances"  in  mental  life.  SexuaHty  like  syniptomatol- 
90  challenges  any  mind-body  dichotomy.  Freud  was  as  every 

%¥bcT  figure  in  intellectual  history  a  man  of  his  times;  and  what- 
«W  the  ultimate  significance  of  his  ideas  he  had  to  share  many 
jrtconceptions  of  his  society.  In  reaction  against  conventional 
Central  European  wisdom  Freud  took  what  now  secms  an  arbi- 
Cary  approach  to  Symptoms;  he  saw  them  as  psychogenic  in  char- 
Jdcr,  not  social  or  somatic,  whereas  we  now  believe  that  all 
brtorscan  play  their  part  (Roazen,  1976). 

If  Freud  was  boldly  original  in  his  willingness  to  treat  Symptoms 
Äpsychologically  meaningful,  he  was  also  sticking  out  his  neck  in 
«dcmning  prevailing  sexual  morality.  He  objectcd  to  the  lack  of 
Oodor  about  sex,  as  people  veiled  their  feelings  in  lies,  prudery, 
üd  pruricnce.  Freud  attributed  neurotic  Symptoms  not  just  to  the 
Jüsistcnce  of  childhood  impressions,  but  in  particular  to  the  sur- 
rinl  of  powerful  erotic  experiences.  Infantile  sexuality  was  for 
fitud  the  root  of  later  troubles;  for  under  stress  adults  rcgress 
l^k  to  carlier,  "not  complctely  conqucred"  complexes. 
Freud  was  concerned  with  both  the  mental  as  well  as  the  physi- 
side  of  sexual  life.  Oedipal  conflicts  were  for  him  the  cssence 
'if  neurosis  —  "the  nuclcar  complex  of  every  neurosis"  -  which  he 
ight  explained  the  significance  of  barriers  against  incest.  The 
iorai  Freud  drew  from  the  Oedipus  complex  reflects  the  liberal 
ikological  framework  with  which  he  worked.  It  is,  Freud  held, 
^•nrilable  and  "perfcctly  normal"  for  a  child  to  be  erotically 
■Hüchcd  to  its  parents.  But  later  the  oedipal  constellation  must  be 

llrfuscd.  Fach  individual  should  take  parents  as  modeis,  and  trans- 
krlibidinal  involvement  to  new,  nonfamilial  "objects."  The  child 
aast  gradually  detach  himself  from  his  parents,  which  Freud  con- 
iJcrcd  "a  task  that  cannot  be  cvadcd  if  the  young  individuaPs  so- 
cai  fitness  is  not  to  be  cndangercd"  ("Fivc  Lcctures  .  .  .  ,"  pp.  47- 
<J).  Education  has  its  role  to  play  in  hclping  the  individual  to 
»ancipatc  himself  from  his  family.  And  Freud  rccommcndcd 
H)choanalysis  as  a  kind  of  after-cducation  "for  the  purpose  of 
•itrcoming  the  residues  of  childhood"  {ibid.,  p.  48). 

AI  the  outsct  of  his  fifth  and  final  lecture  Freud  brought  his 
filtern  together.  The  frustration  of  erotic  nceds  lies  behind  ncu- 
nik:  illness;  and  he  saw  this  frustration  as  stemming  from  outside 
ttpcdiments  as  well  as  from  internal  inflcxibilities.  Yet  frustration 
onnot  be  logically  defined  apart  from  a  given  social  and  moral 
ÄWtcxt;  for  what  is  considered  illcgitimatc  in  one  classor  era  will 


454  /  ROAZEN 


FRHUD'S  LECTURES  RECONSIDERED  /455 


■  I 


Ji 


=' 


r 


be  deenied  satisfying  clsewhere.  For  all  his  Philosophie  skepticism, 
Freud  proeeeded  here  as  if  absolute  norms  eould  be  universally 
agreed  upon.  This  issue  is  a  key  one  since  he  treated  illness  as  a 
Surrogate  satisfaction.  According  to  Freud  "pathological  Symp- 
toms constitute  a  portion  of  the  subject's  sexual  life  or  even  thc 
whole  of  his  sexual  life  ..."  (ibid.,  p.  49).  Freud's  theory  of  ro 
sistances  supported  his  contcntion  that  a  patient,  dcspite  an  cffort 
to  overcome  difficulties,  will  unconsciously  opposc  recovery.  To 
Freud  the  flight  froin  reality  was  one  way  ofdefining  neurotic  ill- 
ness. But  psychological  problems  have  to  involvc  "biological  dam- 
age"  for  Freud;  ncurotics  are  regressed,  infantile,  unable  to  gct 
beyond  their  childhood  beginnings. 

Neurotics  are  not  alonc  in  being  wish-fulfilling  creatures.  Freud 
believed  that  everyone  resorts  to  fantasy  to  make  up  for  unsatisfy- 
ing  realities.  It  is  typical  of  hini  to  have  viewed  fantasy  in  a  nega- 
tive light.  Failure  leads  to  withdrawal  into  fantasy,  and  in  thc 
event  of  "illness"  Substitute  satisfactions  explain  symptoniatology. 
'The  energetic  and  succcssful  man  is  one  who  succeeds  by  his 
efforts  in  turning  wishfui  fantasies  into  reality"  (ibid.,  p.  50).  For 
Freud  reality  appears  hard  and  unappeasable.  One  way  of  satisfy- 
ing the  inexorable  demands  of  life  is  through  artistic  creation  in- 
stead  of  Symptoms.  But  "persistent  rebellion  against  the  real 
World,"  in  the  absence  of  adequate  artistic  creativity,  leads  to  thc 
Isolation  of  neurosis.  Freud  took  a  critical  view  of  religion,  but  at 
the  same  time  saw  neurosis  on  the  increase  due  to  the  decHnc  of 
religious  faith.  Perhaps  his  fundamental  antagonism  to  Catholicism 
can  be  seen  in  his  choice  of  a  specific  analogy:  'Today  neurosis 
takes  the  place  of  the  monasteries  which  used  to  be  the  refugc  of 
all  whom  life  had  disappointcd  or  who  feit  too  weak  to  face  it.** 

Despite  his  eagerness  to  leave  his  audience  with  a  comprehensivc 
view  of  psychoanalytic  psychology,  most  of  Freud's  last  Iccturc 
was  devoted  to  advocating  the  significance  of  his  chosen  method 
of  treatment.  Hc  introduced  it  by  clucidating  the  concept  of  trans- 
ference,  which  Freud  modestly  called  "the  most  important  of  thc 
observations  which  confirm  our  hypothesis  of  thc  sexual  instinctu- 
al  forces  operating  in  neuroscs"  (ibid.,  pp.  50-51).  Thc  paticnt's 
irrational  feelings,  directcd  in  the  coursc  of  treatment  toward  thc 
analyst,  indicated  to  Freud  the  existence  of  unconscious  wishfui 
fantasies.  He  repudiated  the  notion  that  transfcrences  niight  bc 
''created  by  psychoanalytic  influcnce":  It  "arises  spontaneously  in 
all  human  relationships  just  as  it  does  between  the  patient  and  thc 
physician"  (ibid.,  p.  51 ).  But  one  can  question  whether  Freud  had 


chosen  the  proper  alternative.  Transference  does  not  have  to  be 
*'created"  by  the  psychoanalytic  Situation  in  order  for  it  to  bc  in- 
fluenced  by  it.  And  the  question  of  its  spontaneous  arousal  "in  all 
human  relationships"  is  supcriatively  a  matter  of  degree. 

Freud  proposed  that  transference  was  to  be  psychoanalysis's 
means  of  therapeutic  influcnce.  He  was  confidcnt  that  aftcr  the 
patient  was  shown  in  therapy  thc  existence  of  irrationally  infantile 
feelings  it  would  be  possible  to  gain  mastcry  over  neurotic  proc- 
esses.  But,  as  we  shall  see,  Freud's  ideal  of  rationalism  misicd  him. 
It  is  noteworthy  from  our  own  perspective  that  as  clear  as  Freud 
attempted  to  be,  and  as  consistcnt  ashe  tried  to  make  hissystcni, 
he  does  not  State  what  limits  on  transference  reactions  shouki  be 
therapeutically  set.  Nor  is  he  explicit  how,  besides  the  use  of  ra- 
tional explanations,  the  therapist  ought  tomeet  transference  com- 
plexes  once  they  appear  in  a  treatment  setting.  If  it  is  agrccd  tiiat 
the  analytic  Situation  can  itscif  mobilizc  transfcrences,  F>cud 
missed    how   his   techniques  gcncrally    influcnce  the  matcrial   it 

uncovers. 

Freud  was  aware  of  one  so-callcd  resistancc  to  psychoanalysis  - 
"people  are  afraid  of  doing  härm  ..."  (ibid.,  p.  52).  Since  Freud 
set  out  to  stir  up  repressed  sexual  instincts,  hc  conccded  the  Icgiti- 
macy  of  the  question  of  whether  the  patient's  higher  seif  would  be 
in  danger  of  being  overwhelmcd.  Freud's  answer  though  was  firm. 
A  surgeon  does  not  fear  the  consequences  of  taking  measures  to 
eure  a  disease.  All  Operations  temporarily  increase  pain  for  the 
sake  of  the  ultimate  recovery.  Most  of  us  have  witnessed  thc  catas- 
trophe  of  severe  mental  collapsc;  and  the  disease  model  is  hard  to 
get  out  of  one's  mind.  But  is  neurosis  an  "illness"  likc  a  physical 
disorder?  It  is  in  any  event  highly  doubtfui  that  in  the  sphcrc  of 
the  psycho  there  can  bc  any  such  thing  as  what  Freud  confidcntly 
had  in  mind,  "a  permanent  eure."  It  is  qucstionable  how  many  to- 
day  eould  go  along  with  Freud  in  thinking  that  psychoanalysis 
"can  make  the  same  claims  as  surgery  .  .  .  ."  Freud  thought  that 
the  mental  suffering  of  analysis  was  much  less  than  thc  pain  of  sur- 
gery, and  "quite  negligiblc  in  proportion  to  the  severity  of  the 
underlying  ailment"  (ibid.,  pp.  52-53). 

Freud  was  uncompromising  in  rcjecting  even  the  possibility  of 
negative  psychoanalytic  rcsults:  "the  final  outcome  that  is  so 
much  dreaded  -  the  destruction  of  the  paticnt's  cultural  charactcr 
by  thc  instincts  which  have  been  set  free  from  reprcssion  is 
totally  impossible."  Once  again  Freud's  drastic  alternative,  "the 
destruction"  of  the  patient's  higher  capacitics,  can  be  rcjected. 


456  /  ROAZEN 


FREUD'S  LECTURES  RECONSIDERED  /  457 


Freud  gave  the  narrow  logic  for  his  sclf-assurance:  "our"  expcri- 
ences  as  analysts  "have  taught  us  with  certainty"  that  the  lifting  of 
repressions  can  "only"  be  to  weaken  the  power  of  unconscious 
drivcs  (ibid.,  p.  53).  Freud  belicved  that  the  patient's  critical  judg- 
ment  is  more  rehable  than  continucd  self-deception.  And  hc 
thought  that  sexual  drives  are  especially  capable  of  being  subli- 
mated  into  more  "socially  valuable"  directions. 

But  without  more  expHcit  attention  to  moral  values  it  is  impos- 
sible  to  be  sure  of  the  merits  of  any  therapeutic  results.  Freud  did 
not  generally  advocate  sweeping  problems  undcr  rugs,  but  he  tricd 
to  evade  the  Philosophie  impUcations  of  his  clinical  practiccs.  On 
one  social  point  alone  Freud  was  clear,  and  it  was  on  this  note  thal 
he  concluded  his  Clark  lectures:  society  has  been  unduly  sexually 
restrictive,  and  social  patterns  have  thereby  had  neurotic  consc- 
quences. 

Freud  had  begun  his  first  lecture  by  offering  the  case  of  Anna 
O.  as  an  illustration  of  his  principles.  If  confronted  with  the  actual 
clinical  history  that  we  now  know,  he  might  rationalize  the  thera- 
peutic failure  in  her  case  on  the  grounds  that  analysis,  instead  of 
catharsis,  had  not  been  carried  out.  Even  so  it  is  bound  to  sccm 
utopian,  misleading  to  therapists  as  well  as  patients,  to  hold  out 
the  hope  of  "complete  success"  in  any  kind  of  psychotherapy 
(ibid.,  p.  53).  Freud  was  in  reality  at  his  best  as  a  therapist  whcn 
he  maintained  a  sense  of  the  limits  of  what  can  ever  be  therapcu- 
tically  accomplished.  Yet  the  ideal  he  promulgated  at  Clark,  the 
creation  of  a  neutral  technique  capable  of  transforming  human  na- 
ture,  helps  explain  one  source  of  Freud's  appcal  to  his  New  World 
audience. 

It  would  be  erroneous  to  conclude  that  criticism  of  any  parts  of 
Freud's  writings  implies  a  lack  of  appreciation  for  his  staturc  in 
the  history  of  ideas.  If  Freud  was  wrong  on  a  point,  it  is  in  his  own 
best  scientific  spirit  to  try  to  point  it  out.  The  passage  of  alniosl 
seven  decades  since  Freud  delivered  liis  lectures  at  Clark  has  givcn 
historical  distance  to  what  he  was  thcn  proposing.  Too  much  of 
what  Freud  inaugurated  has  been  credulously  accepted  by  the 
pubUc.  His  capacities  as  a  stylist  have  not  been  equalled  by  anyone 
in  the  history  of  psychoanalysis.  George  Bernard  Shaw  oncc  rcle- 
vantly  wrote: 

He  who  has  something  to  assert  will  go  as  far  in  power  of  style  as  its 
momentousness  and  his  conviction  will  carry  him.  Disprove  his  asscr- 
tion  after  it  is  made,  yet  his  style  remains.  Darwin  no  more  destroycd 


the  style  of  Job  or  Handel  than  Martin  Luther  destroyed  the  style  of 
Giotto.  All  the  assertions  get  disproved  sooner  or  later;  and  so  we  find 
the  World  füll  of  a  inagnificent  debris  of  artistic  fossils,  with  the  matter- 
of-fact  credibility  gone  clean  out  of  them,  but  the  form  still  splendid. 
(Mills,  1953). 

Freud's  texts  are  historical  documcnts,  not  sacred  texts.  One 
Problem  is  that  no  one  since  his  death  has  been  able  to  comc  up 
with  a  synthesis  that  matches  the  systematic  power  of  his  own 
mind.  A  lot  of  post-Freudian  writing  has  been  like  the  adding  of 
epicycles  to  the  Ptolcmaic  conccption  rathcr  than  looking  toward 
an  entirely  ncw  view.  But  there  is  no  agrced-upon  alternative  yet 
to  psychology  as  Freud  Icft  it. 

It  is  at  least  clear  that  Freud's  exposition  of  psychoanalysis  was 
dcsigned  to  convince;  readers  have  not  often  enougli  seen  how  hc 
could  Stack  the  deck  in  favor  of  persuading  others  to  his  own 
point  of  view.  If  Anna  O.  was  at  best  a  therapeutic  standoff,  then 
Freud  should  not  have  begun  with  her  case  at  Clark  and  then 
cndcd  his  lectures  on  a  note  of  therapeutic  optimism.  Perhaps  shc 
would  not  now  be  seen  as  neurotic.  By  the  end  of  his  life  Freud 
was  a  good  dcal  Icss  sure  of  himself  diagnostically  as  well  as  thera- 
peutically.  But  hc  continucd  to  deceive  himself  about  the  scien- 
tific Status  of  what  he  had  earlier  come  up  with. 

Historical  conscientiousness  requires  that  we  acknowicdge  how 
bold  Freud  was  in  an  area  still  so  uncertain  today.  On  some  points, 
like  the  significance  of  childhood,  we  are  too  apt  to  take  for 
granted  insights  based  on  one  of  Freud's  central  contentions.  Yet 
another  of  his  key  points,  the  sexual  origins  of  neurotic  symptom- 
atology,  sounds  obviously  wrong,  a  product  of  Freud's  own  cul- 
ture,  and  probably  his  personalily  as  well.  In  a  fundamental  way, 
how'ever,  Freud  was  challenging  traditional  conceptions  of  the 
mind  and  the  body.  Symptoms  can  have  meaning,  even  ifnot  the 
ones  Freud  emphasized;  and  psychotherapeutic  intcrvcntions,  cvcn 
if  Freud's  particular  recommended  techniques  are  not  adopted, 
can  affect  bodily  processes.  In  a  sense  it  was  his  idealism  that  Icd 
him  to  hope  that  through  changcs  in  sexual  practiccs  one  could 
directly  influence  suffcring  in  the  mental  sphere.  Freud  was  a 
Prophet  in  addition  to  being  a  scientist,  a  seer  as  well  as  a  psychol- 
ogist. His  artistic  capacities  ensured  his  triumph  in  intcllcctual  his- 
tory, and  no  doubt  artistry  played  a  role  in  his  therapeutic  prac- 
ticcs as  well.  Yet  to  the  degree  that  later  workers  have  been  able  to 
pursue  his  leads,  and  even  come  to  quite  diffcrent  conclusions, 
Freud  descrves  his  ranking  place  in  the  history  of  modern  science. 


!  i 


458  /  ROAZEN 
References 


\Y' 


EUenberger,  H.  F.  (1972),  The  Story  of  Anna  O  :  A  Critical  Review  wilh 

Data,  Journal  of  the  History  of  the  Dehavioral  Sciences,  8,  (3)  270. 
Jones,  E.  (1954),  Sigmund  Freud:  Life  and  Work,  Vol.  I,  Hogarth  h«^ 

London, p. 247.  ' 

Mills,  C.  and  T.  Veblen  (1953),  Introduction,  The  Theory  of  the  iMm 

Class,  New  American  Library,  New  York,  p.  vi. 
Roazen,  P.  (1975),  Freud  and  his  Followers,  Knopf,  New  York;Ncw Afl«s> 

can  Library  ed.,  1976. 
Roazen,  P.  (1976),  Erik  //.  Erikson:  The  Power  and  Limits  of  a  Vision^Vm 

Free  Press,  Macmillan,  New  York. 
Ross,  D.  (1972),  G.  Stanley  Hall:  The  Psychologist  as  Prophet,  Univ.crfCIl 

cago  Press,  Chicago,  p.  389. 
Ruitenbeck,  H.  M.  (Ed.)  (1973),  in  Freud  As  We  Knew  Hirn,  Waync  SUä| 

University  Press,  Detroit,  pp.  23-24. 
Strachey,  J.  (Ed.)  (1957),  Five  Lectures  on  Psychoanalysis,  in  llic  Sit. 

Edition  of  the  Complete  Psychological  Works  of  Sigmund  Freud,  Vdi 

XI,  Hogarth  Press,  London,  pp.  4-5. 


iv 


ISYCHOANALYSIS  AND  OBESITY* 


COLLEBN  S.  RAND 

Department  of  Psyclüatry 
Ufüversity  of  Florida 
GaiuesviUe,  Florida  32601 

ALBERT  J.  STUNKARD 

Department  of  Psyelüatry 
Ufüversity  of  Pefinsylvania 
Philadelphia,  Pennsylvania  19104 


This  study  dcscribcs  84  obese  patients  compared  with  63 
ftilchcd,  normal-wcight  patients,  all  treatcd'by  psychoanalysis  or 
^choanalytic  therapy.  Information  about  the  characteristics  of 
dK  Iwo  samples  was  contributcd  by  72  psychoanalysts,  membcrs 
rf!hc  American  Acadcmy  of  Psychoanalysis. 

The  study  had  threc  goals:  (1)  to  test  thc  fcasibility  of  a  largc- 
ulc  rescarch  project  using  data  contributcd  by  psychoanalysts 
»ilh  disparate  theorctical  oricntations  working  in  various  parts  of 
Ik  country;  (2)  to  assess  in  a  systcmatic  way,  on  thc  basis  of  psy- 
cboanalytic  data,  personality  characteristics  of  obesc  as  compared 
«itli  non-obcsc  patients;  and  (3)  to  asccrtain  the  effectiveness  of 
p?j>xhoanalysis  in  treating  two  problems  specific  to  obcsity:  over- 
ftight  and  disparagemcnt  of  body  image. 


HISTORICAL  OVERVIEW 

Thc  long  period  of  tijne  each  psychoanalyst  spends  with  each 
palicnt  in  an  individual  practice  has  been  a  barricr  to  studying 
Borc  than  a  rclativcly  small  nuniber  of  patients  suffering  from  a 

•Prcsentcd  at  Uic  Meeting  of  thc  American  Acadcmy  of  Psychoanalysis,  Miami, 
Jür  1976. 

459 

lAmcr.  Acad.  Psychoanalysis,  5(4):  459-497 
%  1977  by  John  Wilcy  &  Sons,  Inc. 


1  ll 


^i 


w 


MM 
»St 


W^ 


1.    ^ 


Projective  identification  -  the  unconscious  phantasy  implemcntin|  Äi 
non-Iexical  aspecls  o(  language  and  behaviour,  aimed  at  communicillÄI 
rather  than  action  (Bion). 

Jntrusive  identification  -  the  unconscious  omnipotent  phantasy,  med^ 
nisni  of  defence  (Melanie  Klein) 

Claustruni      the  inside  of  the  object  penetrated  by  intrusive  idcntificitl« 

Container      the  inside  of  the  object  receptive  of  projective  idenlifkilwtti 

This  niodification  of  our  language  elevates  to  a  qualitative  level  ihc  iittWff^ 
tions,  quantitative  in  nature,  made  previously  by  terms  such  as  ^'noWMJT, 
''excessive",  '^massive"  appended  adjectivally  to  ^^projective  identificatkm'*- 

H  Broadlands  Road, 
London  N6  4AN 

REFERENCES 

Bion,  W.R.  {\^b4)  Clements  of  Psychoanalysis,  Heinemann,  London. 
Klein,  M.  (1946)  Notes  on  Sonie  Schizoid  Mechanisms.  In  The  Wriimtt^ 
Melanie  Klein,  Vol.  III,  Hogarth,  London. 


4 


# 


*  ChUd  Psychotficrapy.  1982,  Vol.  8 

!¥H5'  ^^^^^  AND  THE  GASE  OF  ANNA  O 
^  «E-EXAMINATION 

aaJSTOPHhR  RHEVl-S,  M.A..  Ph.D.  Oxford 

iNMduction 

»»Je  Paper  I  want  to  reconsider  an  episode  Ironi  (he  earlicst  hisiory  of 
»fAwnalysis,  and  in  so  doing  to  celebrate  a  centenary  of  sorts.  Just  one 
Mti  years  ago  this  Summer  Dr.  Josef  Breuer  concluded  the  treatmeiit 
>t  tte  iwenty  three  year  old  Bertha  Pappenheim,  more  famihar  under  the 
IMOonym,  Anna  0.  Shortly  afterwards.  on  November  IXlh  1882   he  com- 
•iliaicd  his  findings  to  his  young  colleague  and  protögd.  Dr.  Ireud   and 
»«»rty  through  a  chain  of  consequence  the  case  came  to  have  such  a'pro- 
imA  innuence  on  subsequent  psychoananalyiic  theory  and  practice   llow- 
IW.  my  reason  for  wishing  to  re-exaniine  (his  episode  is  not  simply  to 
*wd  an  anniversary,  however  noteworlhy.  I  hope  to  show  tliat  (hcre  is 
*rt  lo  merit  carelul  scrutiny  about  the  case  ilself,  and  about  the  rencctions 
•««r.nd  Freud  made  upon  it  in  the  decade  and  a  half  before  its  publica- 
*■«  the  first  Case  History  in  their  joint  Studk-s  on  Uvueria  (Freud  I  «9Sd) 
fftherc  IS  one  thing  which  being  a  Child  Psychotherapist  in  daily  com- 
«iion  with  the  mental  hfe  of  small  children  constantly  teaches   it  is 
»Mttl.$ation  Ol  how  richly  infonnative  a  guide  can  be  the  way  Ihoüghts 

-.r*y  *7  'mpulses  are  dealt  with  in  the  earliest  stages  of  life  for  under- 
SWÄPg  the  complexities  of  aduK   mental  processes.  One  learns  far  more 

v**  idult  menlal  life  fron,  the  study  of  children  (han  about  the  children's 
**"''''  'f°'"  "'«  '""dy  "f  adults.  Similariy  with  the  history  of  psycho- 
ill»r«t»- 10  undeisland  current  concepts  and  controversies  one  must  look  to 
Mfmx  Unlortunately.  psychoanalysis  who  have  lurned  to  historical  research 
«W  100  ofien  tended  to  vicw  (he  past  in  terms  of  the  prcsent  rather  than  ihe 
wer  way  about. 

»«Mead.  I  propose  (aking  seriously'Preud's  own  dictum  in  the  prefacc 
t*ftni  years  later  lor  a  new  edition  ol' Studies  on  Hysicria: 

i  an  give   no  bet(er  advice    to   anyone   interested  in  the  dcvelopment 
■^Otharsis  mto  psychoanalysis  than  to  begin  with  .  .  .  (this  work) 
«•ithusfoilowthepath  I  myselfhave  trodden".  (S.K.  2  p.xxxi). 
Jpropose  to  proceed  as  follows.  First,  I  shall  provide  a  Synopsis  of  the 
JJlwna  laccoun(  of  Anna  O.'s  ireatmen.   by   Breuer  and  its  aftcrmath. 
*«Ishal  place  alongs.dc  this  (he  docunientary  evidence  which  has  come  (o 
*1W  Ihe  last  decade  (hat  con(radic(s  or  calls  in  question  imporlant  Clements 
»  ** iraditional  account.  After  ihis  I  shall  suggest  an  cxpianation  of  how  the 
?*fc  p.lK-r  is  busc-d  on  u  Icc.ure  givcn  as  Ihc  Chairn.an-s  Address  to  (ho  Section  ol 

2?«,  l;!^     ''  T   ^^^•^•""'"^•^^"^^  "'  '^'  »'"'^"  '^y-holo^.ical  Socicv  al  .ho  K.,y 
wn> Ol  Mcdionc.  London  in. lanuary  I9«().  '  '^  '^"y-" 


202 


203 


•kUkMMMkMua 


'tuimntm  iliin«^    M 


l«MM 


*^wnw  m  lu  -  ifTr    • 


(raditional  version  with  its  distortions  and  half  truths  came  about,  befoü 
finally  and  vcry  tcnlatively  suggesting  a  motive  for  the  unwitting  hislofterf 
distortions  wliich  becanie  enibedded  in  tlie  traditional  account  and  whick 
have  proved  so  ditTicult  to  dispel. 

The  traditional  version  of  the  Anna  0  episode  and  its  sequel 

Bertha  Pappenheim  was  first  ireated  by  Josef  Breuer  towards  the  end<J# 
1880  when  she  took  to  her  bed  with  a  nuniber  of  bizarre  Symptoms  includü^ 
partial  loss  of  speech,  disturbances  of  Vision  and  paralysis  of  the  liml».  Tht 
onset  of  these  Symptoms  appeared  to  coincide  with  the  serious  illncssofhtl 
father  to  whom  she  was  greatly  devoted.  Following  her  father*8  dcath  M 
April  1881  her  condition  detcriorated  still  further.  A  feature  which  fascinair* 
Breuer  about  her  case  was  the  way  in  which  she  appeared  to  move  abnipily 
from  one  mental  State  in  which  she  behaved  relatively  normally  to  anoliiü 
during  which  she  was  like  a  wilful  and  bad  tempered  child.  Gradually  BroMT 
conccivcd  the  idea  tliat  Anna  O's  secondary  State  was  the  product  of  aforti 
of  self-hypnosis.  Whilst  in  this  State  the  patient  got  into  the  habit,  encourigll 
by  Breuer,  o(  talking  out  ideas  and  impressions  which  occurrcd  to  her.  Thcif 
he  eventually  discovered  to  bc  the  instigating  causes  of  her  various  hysteriöi 
Symptoms. 

During  the  sccond  year  of  her  trealmcnt,  it  became  apparent  to  Bttittt 
that  in  her  secondary,  so  called  *1iypnoid"  State  she  was  living  through  Ät 
memory  o\'  events  which  had  occurred  precisely  365  days  carUer.  Two  cvrwtl 
of  the  previous  year  in  particular  assumed  immense  significance  in  the  patmA% 
rccollections:  first  her  father's  death:  and  second,  her  removal  to  asanatoinni 
in  the  June  following  her  father's  death,  when  Breuer's  attendancc  on  li*f 
became  for  a  time  less  continuous  than  before. 

Gradually  her  various  Symptoms  receded  as  the  instigating  memoricsttt^i 
talked  out  one  by  one  in  st  riet  chronological  sequence.  With  the  eventvdl 
disappearance  o\'  her  last  and  mosi  intractable  symptom  -  tiie  inabihty  W 
speak  or  understand  her  native  German  and  her  exciusive  reliance  on  EngMl 
~  Breuer  proinptly  tcrniinated  the  treatment.  Me  did  this  largely  at  ^ 
instigation  o\'  Ins  wife,  who  was  becoming  jealous  at  the  amount  of  attcnlKMI 
Breuer  was  devotiiig  to  bis  youthtul  patient  and  ct>ncerned  at  the  cffccl  Ä 
was  having  on  thcir  faniily  life.  However,  on  the  vcry  cvening  of  the  djy  <a» 
which  Breuer  lerininaled  the  eigliteen  monih  long  treatment,  he  was  calk4 
back  urgently  to  the  patient's  bedside  to  find  her  in  the  ihroesof  a  phantoü 
childbirth.  In  alarni  at  this  unt'oreseen  tum  of  events,  and  unwilling  (o  cu*^ 
template  the  sexual  impori  of  his  patient's  behaviour  (since  throu|^aii| 
Breuer  had  regardcd  Anna  O  as  devoid  o\'  sexual  feelings  and  propcnuncil 
he  put  her  into  a  deep  hypnotic  trance.  quickly  left  the  house  and  hcnoi' 
foi-ward  abandoncd  further  responsibility  for  her  care.  The  paticni  «ü 
subsequently  placed  in  a  Sanatorium  where  she  took  some  time  to  rcco^ft«. 
Meanwhilc  Dr.  Breuer  and  his  wife  departed  on  a  long  holiday  to  shoie  n^ 


204 


I 


Jto  crmnbling  marriage,  in  the  course  of  which  their  youngest  daugl.ter 
Pöra,  was  conceived.  u^funci, 

l^Z^uTnolV'c^"  'u'"""'  aspresented  by  Freud'sofficial  biographer 

rJS  hZl/  ,    ^       '  '^'  "'"''''  °^  ^'''^'^  ''^  '^''''"'^  'he  authori.y  of 
»««dhunself  Jones  goes  on  to  allege  that  subsequently  Breuer  remained 

kA  f^cmated  and  frightened  by  the  Anna  0  episode.  He  never  undertook 

WHher  comparable  case  of  psychical  treatment  again.  On  the  othcr  hand 

^rrmntcated  the  deta,ls  of  the  case  soon  afterwards  tu  I  i  you      fr    ,  d 

2t;.«?/"h''h"'  '"'"''T  '^^^"^  '"^"^''  ^""  '"  '^^^"^•'"-'e  in'a  study 
rf^Jena  wh.ch  was  to  include  among  its  Case  Histories  that  of  Anna  O 

Wr,  con  tnumg  ambivalence  was  demonstrated  by  his  acceptance    but' 
2^  on  cond.tion  that  any  implications  of  a  possible  sexual  etilgy  of  he 
4««bance  were  to  be  kept  firriily  in  the  background.  Furthermore   B reue 

f«?ov  r  le  b,  .  r"  *^"'"^'hution,  and  eventually  parted  from 

»«.d  over  the  latters  ms.stencc  on  espousing  a  psychological  account  of 

Sr«  chnr^r  ";  ^'"''  /^'  "P^"^'""  "^  ^«"-l  -'''-^•^  and  t  ! 
«Dhv  inl  r  '"^"'T'  '^'"'"'^^  Prominently  in  preference  to  his 
«•  phystological  vers,on  of  the  etiology  with  a  consequent  emphasis  on  the 

i  In^inT'    ^'^  Tr  '  'f'"^  ^^'-"ii"inM  <l'e  illness  and  as  an  indispens 

«•is  Ol  psychoanalysis  wtth  which  at  least  indirectly  and  unwittingly  ife 
^b«n  so  .nttma.ely  connected.  His  reticence  stemmed  from  a  Sre  to 

Z^Zs  '  '"  '''"'^*''"""  ^*"'  ''^^"^'^  controversial 

at  Anna  0  Case:  the  testimony  of  recently  discovered  evidence 

«any  of  the  facts  in  the  above  account  are  not  in  dispute  though  the 
*«pre.at.on  len.  them  by  Jones  on  the  alleged  authority  of  Freud  may  be 

.I^iLTR  '' ''''"'  '''  '^'"'^  «rAnnaO's  illness  and  gradual  recovery 
•  p^wded  m  Breuer  s  own  case  pre.scntation  in  the  Studics.  Our  conftdence 
« ^  source  has  been  confirmed  by  the  recent  discovery  (LIienberger   1  Sz) 
^ih*  actual  case  notes  written  by  Breuer  in  1882  for  the  güidanc^  of  the 
S^^rSatrum  ;l'r  1-  ^^^"-/^PP-'-im  on  her  aSnlfsZ  ^o 
«r^  .h.,  r    ,^       Kreuzl.ngen  m  Switzerland  in  the  late  summer  of  that 
m  -  that  IS  not  long  alter  Breuer's  treatment  had  ended  These  notes  I, 
«  «gntfican, ly  alter  anything  in  Breuer's  account  of  the  S.udies  ältWh 
«Jj.mpl.ly  the  pic.urc  of  Bertha  Pappenheim's  pers<.nality  l^unb  Su 
•Orte  famtly  ctrcumstances  at  the  time  of  her  illness.  We  lca;r;or  mZc 
J.  fc«  cbelhous  naturc.  her  antipathy  ,o  relig.on  and  her  antagonsm  Howards' 

«UW5d.  19.5d.),  Ol  Breuer-s  Statement  in  the  Studies  that  "the  elemen. 
rf  «xuahiy  was  astonishingly   undeveloped   in   her"    (S  E    2  n  on    tT 
-*~l  ,882  notes  allow  us  to  arr.ve  a,  a'clearer  undersLnding  cllj^?.  Jfal 

205 


I 


i^ 


■i'A 


Breuer  nieant  by  this.  He  evidently  diel  not  believe  that  all  sexual  feeliifl 
were  dorinant  in  Anna  O,  but  Ihat  thcy  had  been  diverted  from  thcir  normrf 
expression  by  her  excessive  affection  for  her  father. 

These  original  case  notes  provide  a  niore  complete  picture  too  about  llit 
stages  Anna  O  went  througli  during  her  eighteen  months  treatment  by  Brcorf 
It  is  interesting,  lor  instance,  to  note  that  Breuer  was  originally  consullcdbf 
the  fainily  about  Anna  O's  persistent  cougli.  No  indication  was  given  at  te 
time  that,  in  ihe  eyes  of  her  family,  she  was  suffering  from  a  major  disocthi. 
In  fact,  it  emerges  that  Anna  O  suppHed  most  of  the  details  conccminglwi 
earlier  physical  Symptoms  -  that  is,  in  the  six  months  between  her  flw« 
seizure  and  disturbance  of  speech  and  Breur's  initial  consultation. 

Breuer,  for  his  part,  first  suspected  that  she  was  suffering  from  mcnln|ltll 
or  some  other  organic  disorder.  What  alerted  him  lo  a  possible  psycholofttl 
causation  was  the  Observation  that  the  onset  of  her  gross  Symptoms  cüincnk4 
with  a  rebukc  administered  by  her  beloved  father  following  an  arguimÄ 
between  them.  Probably  out  of  discretion  Breuer  did  not  enlarge  on  iMn 
incident  in  his  pubHshed  Case  Histoiy.  (It  should  be  remembered  thil  At 
Pappenheinis  were  still  resident  in  Vienna  up  to  1888,  and  as  HirschmuBit 
(1978)  has  recently  shown,  several  contemporaiy  readers  recogniscd  ttet 
idcntity  o^  the  patient  when  the  Case  History  was  first  published  in  I895>, 
From  the  original  notes,  however,  we  derive  a  clearer  picture  of  this  cpismk. 
The  row  was  obviously  a  major  onc.  and  after  it  Anna  0  never  saw  her  fathif 
again  for  the  last  two  months  of  his  life.  It  is  not  entirely  clear  to  whal  exMA 
this  was  due  to  her  obstinacy  or  her  father's,  or  whether  her  molhcr  anl 
brother  prevented  further  contact  between  them.  What  we  do  learn  is  thathir 
niolher  and  brother  denied  her  access  to  her  father's  sick  room  during fcil 
final  days  o^  life  and  that  the  tamily  withheld  from  her  the  truth  of  hfr 
father's  death  for  some  days  after  the  actual  event. 

In  the  light  of  these  revelations.  it  is  hardly  surprising  that  Anna  0  bectfW 
deeply  suspicious  and  antagonistic  towards  her  family  during  the  sub$cqu«M 
months.  It  was  during  this  period  that  she  remained  virtually  incommunkldök, 
speaking  only  to  her  English  nurse,  complaining  of  derealisation  expericncr* 
refusing  to  take  food  from  anyone  except  Breuer,  and  making  frcquc«« 
suicide  gestures.  So  critical  did  her  State  and  the  difficulty  of  managinj  hif 
become  that  two  months  after  her  father's  death,  on  June  7th  1881.  Brmtf 
decided  that  she  should  be  moved  to  a  house  in  the  grounds  of  a  sanatorl«« 
at  In/.ersdorf,  a  littlc  way  out  of  Vieima.  This  transfer,  according  to  the  notei, 
was  accomplished  'lorcibly.  but  without  dcceit". 

The  plan  was  that  this  change  o^  regime  would  enable  Breuer  to  cui  dim» 
on  his  daily  and  oflcn  twice  daily  Visits  and  ensure  proper  twenty  four  hÄf 
care  for  his  chromcally  ill  patient.  However,  once  at  the  Sanatorium  AnnjO 
becanie  so  destruclive  and  disruptive  -  breaking  Windows  and  consi^nify 
attenipting  suicide  -  that  she  was  discharged  and  returned  to  her  fafflty 
sliortly  after  a  six  weeks  holiday  taken  by  the  Breuers  in  July  and  August  trf 
that  year. 

206 


Jl^lT    l  events  are  only  sketched  in   barest   outline  in   Breuer's 
woun      n  the  Studies    Perhaps  because  of  this,  insufficient  attention  has 
Jw^paid  in  accounts  of  how  Anna  O's  treatment  ended  to  the  fact  (hat  she 
Wnclf  decided  on  the  date  her  treatment  was  to  finish.  (cf.,  SE  2  p  40) 
^  day  was  to  be  the  anniversary  of  her  enforced  sojourn  in  the  sanatoriuni 

f  si^odZ  '^"^- J,^-^,«--^  should  have  consented  to  this  decision  is  n 
»«irpris ing  as  might  first  appear.  For  one  thing,  Anna  O  was  by  now  in  a 
«ch  healthier  and  more  stable  State  of  mind  than  she  had  been  twelve 
«Hhs  previously.   Secondly,   in   her   daily  sessions  with   Breuer  she  had 
•rueinatically  unburdened  herseif  of  a  series  of  memories  and  feelings  which 

T^rlT    /?h        ''^'^  ""'^^  '^'  ""^'^  ^^  '""'^  ^^  ^'''  P^^y^i^^J  Symptoms, 
m  r«ult  of  this  process  was  that  aU  or  almost  all  of  her  Symptoms  had  now 

fcppeared.  Thirdly,  during  the  whole  of  this  period,  Breuer  discovered  that 
•  her  secondary  or  hypnoid  State  ~  the  one  she  was  in  when  the  traumatic 
«iemor.es  emerged  -  Anna  0  was  living  througli  events  which  had  occurrec 
tuctly  365  days  earlier.  Lastly,  it  transpired  that  the  final  day  of  her  treal- 
»eol  was  particularly  significant  in  marking  the  disappearance  of  her  earliest 
m  most  intractable  hysterical  Symptom.  This  was  what  in  the  188-  notes 
•rcucr  referred  lo  as  her  ^aphasia^,  a  term  used  to  denote  her  prolonged 
Z^nl^  ""'  understand  her  native  tongue  and  herexclusive  reliance 

ll  is  not  a  question,  of  course,  of  deciding  whether  the  timing  of  the 
•munation  of  Anna  O's  eighteen  month  treatment  was  opportune,  o,  whether 
ireuer  himself  was  wise  in  assenting  to  it.  The  important  point  is  that  the 
*lice  of  date  was  consistent  with  all  that  had  gone  before.  The  pattern  of 
^t«  lyrriptom  alleviation  was  that  each  symptom  finally  disappeared  when 
m  only  when,  the  original  instigating  memory  was  brought  to  light  More-' 
•er.  the  disappearance  of  Symptoms  had  to  be  in  reverse  order  to  their  onset 

t7^''  [''n^'l  \  "^^'  ^'^^  ^^^''^  ^^  '^ß^^^'  consistency  of  her  states"  - 
it^p.37).  Nothing  could  be  more  logically  consistent  than  that  the  first 
»matic  moment  of  all  which  lay  at  the  root  of  her  hysterical  aphasia 
^  come  to  the  surface  and  be  alleviated  on  the  very  day  that  saw  the 
«iplet.on  Ol  her  treatment.  The  date  was  significant,  too,  in  the  light  of 
Moa  0  s  propensity  to  live  simultaneously  in  the  present  and  (in  her  secondary 
ÄJe)  365  days  earlier:  here  she  was  commemorating  her  enforced  removal 
^he  Sanatorium  and  at  the  same  time  (to  use  a  later  concept  of  Freud) 
teung  passive  into  active  by  leaving  Breuer  where  a  year  earlier  he  had 
Ippearcd  to  be  deserting  her. 

On  the  subject  of  Anna  O's  mental  State  at  the  time  treatment  was  finished 

•r   88    notes  record  Breuer's  opinion  that  -after  termination  of  her  treat-' 

«t  there  was  great  alleviation".  What  then  of  the  famous  terminal  episode^ 

,  IJ  no  reference  m  the  notes  to  Anna  O's  hysterical  childbirth  syrriptoms 

^that  evening  and  to  Breuer's  abrupt  departure  from  the  scene^  Thanks 

l^lT)  T's'  ''''^  ''''''''''  ^'  '^"  ^^^^^  ^'^^  there"  absolute  y 
^fvidence  of  this  havmg  occurred,  at  least  not  in  the  way  so  vividly  re- 

207 


;| 


Im 


rn 


ported  by  Jones  on  the  basis  of  Freud's  reconstruction  of  the  event.  In  fad» 
we  can  be  even  more  dogmatic.  For  there  is  evidence  to  show  that  the  circufü» 
stances  could  not  possibly  be  as  Jones  describes  them.  According  to  hlBi, 
Anna  0  was  conimitted  to  a  Sanatorium  at  Gross  Enzersdorf  following  h« 
alleged  display  in  front  of  the  perplexed  Breuer,  whereupon  he  and  hi$  will 
betook  tlieniselvcs  in  haste  to  Venice  for  a  second  honeymoon  to  shorc  «p 
their  crunibling  marriage  in  the  course  of  which  their  youngest  daugliter  wn 

conceived. 

liowever,  Anna  O  did  not  enter  a  Sanatorium  until  six  weeks  after  hü 
treatment  with  Breuer.  This  Sanatorium  was  not  situated  at  Gross  Enzcrjdolf 
(there  never  was  a  Sanatorium  there).  The  Breuers  did  not  go  to  Venicc  ihH 
year.  Their  youngest  daughter,  Dora,  was  not  conceived  during  this  purporttd 
hoUday,  as  she  was  aJready  three  months  old  by  the  Summer  of  1882.  <X 
course,  nobody  is  in  a  position  to  say  catcgorically  that  Anna  0  did  WA 
display  Symptoms  of  hysterical  childbirth  on  the  day  in  question,  but  sind 
the  only  evidence  in  support  of  it  is  Freud's  own  reconstruction  half  accntmy 
later,  and  as  in  nearly  every  other  respect  their  reconstruction  contridicl» 
everything  eise  we  know  about  what  happened,  prudence  requires  us  to  treu 
the  account  aspiibüshed  by  Jones  with  a  great  deal  of  caution. 

The  two  versions  compared:  a  possible  line  of  explanation 

If  it  is  so  at  variance  witli  the  known  facts,  how  did  tiie  traditional  accouat 
o(  the  termination  o\'  Anna  O's  treatment  by  Breuer  ever  gain  such  univcrwl 
currency?  Are  we  lo  suppose  that  Freud  or  his  otTicial  biographer  delibcratdy 
concocted  a  fictitious  stoiy?  Some  recent  commentators  have  gone  so  faris 
to  suggest  this  hypothesis.  However,  1  beHeve  a  more  tenable  explanation  in 
possible,  one  which  incidentally  helps  to  cast  new  light  on  the  subscqutÄ 
history  of  the  Breuer-Freud  collaboration  over  the  Stuclies  on  Hystcria  and  llt 
sequcl.  I  want  to  suggest  that  the  whole  reported  episode  constitutcs  whM 
Freud  called  a  **screen  memory'\  That  is,  it  represents  a  tendentious  f^ 
collection  of  certain  historical  cvents  distorted  by  displacement  and  conden» 

sation. 

Let  US  compare  tnst  the  traditional  and  more  accurate  versions  of  fhf 
course  o\'  Anna  O's  treatment  and  see  if  we  can  detect  how  Jones's  accouni  - 
or  Freud's  reconstruction  o(  the  events  if  that  is  wiiat  it  really  is  -  camcIO 
take  shape. 

The  first  thing  we  notice  is  that  Gross  Enzersdorf,  the  place  which  Jon» 
wrungly  gives  as  the  location  of  tlie  Sanatorium  to  wliicii  Anna  O  went  afw 
her  treatment  by  Breuer  in  1882,  is  vei-y  similar  in  sound  to  Inzersdorf,  the 
place  to  which  Anna  0  actually  went  at  a  critical  point  in  her  treatment  j 
year  carlier.  Could  it  be  thcn  that  Freud  or  Jones  has  confused  not  only  the 
name  but  the  sequencc  o(  events.  attribuling  to  the  end  of  her  period  of 
treatment  something  which  actually  took  place  at  an  earlier  stage? 

Let  US  look  for  somc  further  clues.  Jones  relates  a  scries  of  events  affectlnf 
the    Breuers,   which    he    alleges  followed  immediately  on  the   termination. 


bduding  the  conception  of  their  youngest  daugliter.  Ellenberger  (1970)  has 
CJliblished  beyond  doubt  that  Dora  Breuer  was  actually  born  on  March  l  Ith 
18ii2.  A  simple  calculation  reveals  that,  supposing  her  to  have  been  a  füll 
Ifrm  baby,  she  must  have  been  conceived  somewhere  between  the  4th  and 
lllh  June  1881.  Now  we  happen  to  know  the  date  of  Anna  O's  forcible 
«inoval  to  Inzersdorf:  Breuer  reports  that  this  occurred  on  June  7th  1881. 
We  also  know  that  the  Breuers  departed  for  their  Summer  holiday  five  weeks 
iftcr  this,  that  is,  just  at  the  time  when  Mrs  Breuer  was  probably  receiving  the 
fifst  intimations  that  she  was  pregnant.  We  know  too  that  an  explicit  reason 
for  Breuer's  decision  to  transfer  Anna  O  to  the  Sanatorium  was  his  wish  to  be 
lelicvcd  of  the  responsibility  virtually  for  keeping  her  alive,  since  following 
her  father's  death  Anna  O  had  refused  to  take  food  from  anyone  eise  but  him. 
AI]  of  this  is  consistent  with  Jones's  Suggestion  that  the  Breuer  family  was 
ifider  considerable  strain  in  June  1881  as  a  result  of  Breuer's  embroilment 
with  her  case.  Contrary  to  Jones,  it  makes  much  better  sense  to  assume  that 
this  was  the  period  of  maximum  strain  than  to  attribute  this  to  the  same 
period  a  year  later,  when  Anna  0  from  all  accounts  was  no  longer  in  a 
Siacidal  State  and  was  on  the  way  to  at  least  partial  recovery. 

Whether  their  daughter's  conception  was  an  act  of  reconciliation  between 
Breuer  and  his  wife  matters  little.  Contrary  to  what  Jones  says,  Mrs  Breuer 
«n$  almost  certainly  pregnant  already  by  the  time  they  went  on  holiday  in 
1881. 

We  are  still  left,  of  course,  with  the  problem  of  accountin^  for  the  most 
fimous  detail  of  this  whole  alleged  episode,  namely  the  incident  of  the 
hysterical  childbirth  Symptoms  displayed  by  Anna  O  on  the  evening  after  her 
treitment  was  supposed  to  have  ended.  How  did  this  detail  become  woven 
mto  the  Story,  with  all  its  purported  consequences  on  Breuer? 

In  a  letter  to  Stephen  Zweig  in  1932(Freud  1 960a)  referringto  the  Anna  O 
•ffair.  Freud  quoted  in  direct  speech  what  Anna  0  was  alleged  to  have  said  to 
Breuer  during  this  incident.  Her  words  were  "now  Dr.  Breuer's  baby  is 
OMning".  The  final  day  of  her  treatment  was  June  7th  1882.  We  can  be  sure 
of  ihis  date  because,  as  we  have  already  observed,  AnnaO  elected  to  conclude 
her  treatment  on  the  anniversary  of  her  enforced  removal  to  Inzersdorf,  the 
6te  of  which  (June  7th  1 88 1 )  he  obliges  us  with  in  the  Studies,  Yet  we  have 
abo  established  that  this  date  was  significant  for  another  reason.  It  emerges 
that  it  was  the  anniversary  or  thereabouts  of  the  conception  of  the  Breuer's 
daughter  (June  4th-l  Ith  1881).  Given  that  throughout  her  treatment  Anna  O 
kad  been  re-living  the  significant  episodes  affecting  her  life  a  year  earlier,  are 
wt  not  justificd  in  interpreting  the  sense  of  her  alleged  remark  '*now  Dr. 
Brcucr's  baby  is  Coming"  to  be  that  she  recognised  (and  wanted  her  doctor 
to  know  that  she  recognised)  that  events  in  bis  personal  life  as  well  as  in  her 
own  had  taken  place  at  the  time,  June  7th  1881,  of  which  the  final  day  of 
tieatment  was  the  anniversary? 

It  might  be  asked  'Mf  so,  ihen  why  were  her  words  in  the  present  tense?" 
The  answer  is  that  throughout  the  period  of  her  recovery  Anna  O  was  in  the 


208 


209 


habit  not  just  of  remembering  but  of  actually  re-enacting  the  events  of  ayc« 
earlier  as  these  emerged  in  her  hypnoid  State.  Thus  **now  Dr.  Breuer's  baby  b 
Coming''  would  constitute  a  re-enacted  Statement  whose  actuaJ  referencc  w» 
to  something  happening  a  year  earlier. 

On  this  hypothesis  it  is  quite  credible  that  some  such  verbal  interchaii^ 
as  that  rcportcd  by  Freud  did  actually  occur  between  Anna  O  and  Brcuci. 
and  probably  on  the  final  day  of  her  treatment.  1  do  not,  however,  fecl  thU 
there  are  any  grounds  for  believing  in  the  phantom  pregnancy  and  the  hystcricjl 
childbirth  Symptoms.  It  seems  more  plausible  to  suppose  that  this  reconsiruc 
tion  of  what  took  place  was  based  on  Freud's  faulty  recollection  of  wh^l 
Breuer  had  actually  reported  to  him. 

Breuer's    1882  notes  record  the  great  relief  Anna  O  experienced  at  ihe 
conclusion  o(  her  treatment,  without  there  being  any  Suggestion  of  what 
Freud  was  later  to  describe  as  an  "untoward  event".  Breuer  may  have  sup. 
pressed  this  detail,  but  why  should  he?  Admittedly,  Anna  O's  recovery  wn 
not  sustaincd,  yet  some  weeks  were  to  elapse  before  she  was  admitted  to  the 
Sanatorium  in  July  1882.  In  between  times  she  had  been  well  enough  lo  travd 
abroad  with  her  family.  Furthermore,  there  is  no  independent  evidencc  to 
Support    Freud's   inlerprctation  of  the  motives  he  imputed  to  Breuer  fof 
supposediy  abandoning  bis  young  patient  in  the  middle  of  an  acute  hystcrKal 
episode.  It  has  been  said  that  Breuer  was  so  unnerved  by  Anna  O's  allcgcd 
behaviour  towards  him  that  he  never  undertook  any  comparable  cases  again. 
However   in  the  archives  of  the  same  sanitorium  to  which  Anna  O  went  in  iKe 
Summer  of  1882,  and  from  which  his  original  case  notes  have  been  recovcrcd. 
there  have  recently  been  found  seven  other  case  studies  by  Breuer,  aUemploy- 
ing  the  same  cathartic  techniquc,  six  of  which  were  begun  after  his  trealmcm 

cfAnnaO. 

This  finding  effectively  disposes  of  Jones's  contention  that  Breuer  was 
unnerved  by  his  involvemcnt  wilh  the  case.  It  is  probably  true  that  nonc  of 
the  subsequent  cases  was  as  complex  and  daunting  as  that  of  Anna  0.  bul 
then  nor  were  any  of  those  which  Freud  himself  treatcd  and  eventually 
reported  on  in  their  Joint  SfuJics  on  Hystcria.  Perhaps  Breuer  summcd  up 
his  own  attitudc  to  this  type  of  treatment  best  ycars  later  in  a  letter  he  wrol« 
to  Auguste  Forel  (Crancfield  1958).  In  it  he  suggested  that  ircatments  such 
as  these  were  not  lo  bc  undertaken  lighily.  They  placed  a  great  stram  on  a 
general  practitioner  and  their  utilily  could  not  always  be  assured  -  a  vicw, 
incidentally,  which  was  closely  akin  to  Freud's  own. 

To  summarise  the  argumcnt  so  far,  thcrcfore,  I  maintain  that  traditional 
accounts  as  rccorded  by  Freud,  Jones  and  oihers  of  what  iranspircd  between 
Breuer  and  Ins  fanious  patient,  both  during  the  course  of  her  treatment  and 
immcdiately  afterwards,  arc  based  on  a  distortcd  recollection  and  inicr. 
pietation  of  ccttain  historic  events.  This  distortion  is  comparable  in  kmd  to 
that  which  Freud  postulatcd  as  occurring  with  screen  memories.  So  far, 
howevcr,  I  have  contentcd  mysclf  with  trying  to  identify  the  discrepancits 
between'  the  rcmembcrcd  and  actuul  events.  In  ordcr  to  sustain  the  thcMS 

210 


tet  a  mechanism  is  at  work  comparable  to  that  which  produces  screen 
«»cmories  I  face  the  more  difficult  task  of  adducing  a  motive  for  the  dis- 
tortion. 

TW  Anna  0  episode  as  a  screen  memory : 
kpursuit  of  a  motive  for  the  distortion 

I  want  now  to  turn  the  spotliglit  away  from  the  relationship  between 
litucr  and  Anna  O  and  turn  instead  to  the  relationship  between  Freud  and 
Bfcuer  as  it  evolved  in  the  years  following  Anna  O's  treatment.  If  it  is  true 
dat  a  tradition  has  come  to  overlay  the  facts  about  Anna  O's  actual  treat- 
sient,  a  tradition  which  has  had  the  effect  of  distorting  the  accurate  record- 
w%  of  what  took  place,  it  is  equally  the  case  that  the  historical  account  of 
(he  collaboration  between  Breuer  and  Freud  has  been  the  object  of  a  like 
4egree  of  distortion.  To  give  some  instances:  Jones  would  have  us  believe 
that  Breuer  remained  so  ambivalent  about  the  Anna  O  case  that  when  hc 
fuully  committed  himself  to  Joint  publication  be  proved  dilatory,  critical 
aid  obstructive;  furthermore,  the  price  of  his  co-operation  was  an  under- 
(iking  on  Freud's  part  to  omit  any  reterence  to  possible  sexual  factors  in 
the  proposed  etiology  of  hysteria. 

Ncilher  of  these  assertions  is  consistent  with  the  facts.  Breuer  completed 
httcontribution  to  the  Joint  work,  the  Case  History  of  Anna  O  and  the  long 
«niral  chapter  on  the  theory  of  hysterogenesis  before  Freud  had  cven  begun 
to  write  his  own  final  chapter  on  therapy.  If  Breuer  was  often  critical  of  the 
Im  Freud  was  taking  over  certain  issues  to  do  with  the  incidence  and  treat- 
ment of  traumatic  hysteria,  the  same  was  true  of  Freud,  who  spokc,  for 
«wlance*,  in  a  letter  to  Fliess  (cf.  Kris  U)54)  of  want  ing  to  dissociate  himself 
cnlircly  from  the  views  expressed  in  Brcuer's  theoretical  chapter.  As  for 
Bfcuer's  alleged  resistance  to  countenancing  a  sexual  etiology  of  hysteria,  this 
B  contradicted  by  Breuer's  own  Statement  in  the  Studies  on  Hysteria  that 
dislurbances  of  sexuality  were  almost  invariahly  at  the  root  of  hysterical 
Symptoms  (S.E.2  p.244). 

Two  üther  grounds  for  the  intellectual  estrangement  between  Breuer  and 
Freud  have  been  pul  forward  at  different  times.  The  first  was  that  Breuer 
opicd  for  a  hypnoid  State  theory  of  hysteria  as  opposed  to  Freud's  own 
picference  for  a  theory  based  on  defence  and  repression;and  the  second  was 
that  Breuer  favoured  a  physiological  theory,  whereas  Freud  preferred  a 
psychological  one.  Howevcr,  neither  of  these  grounds  readily  explains  their 
diffcrences.  In  1892  when  they  were  about  to  publish  their  first  Joint  essay 
on  hysterogenesis,  it  is  clear  that  Freud  was  as  firm  in  his  espousal  o{  the 
hypnoid  State  theory  as  Breuer  (S.E.l  pp.  147-8).  Fven  during  their  preparation 
uf  the  nianuscript  of  the  Studies  on  Hysteria  three  years  later,  when  Freud 
wi$  g,»ving  increasing  prominence  to  the  concept  o(  defence  as  the  primary 
cjusal  factor  in  hysterical  traumas,  he  continucd  to  believe,  like  Breuer,  that 
ihe  hypnoid  State  and  defence  theories  were  ultimately  alternative  ways  o( 
ücscribing  the  same  postulated  sequencc  of  events  (S.E.2  p. 286).  Likcwise,  it 


1  . 
t 

I 


211 


t 


r 


■\x 


V 

-  \ 


Im^ 


is  inaccurate  to  credit  Breuer  with  a  physiological  and  Freud  with  a  psycho- 
logical  theory  of  hysterogenesis  at  the  time  ihe  Studies  on  Hysteria  weif 
being  written.  Breuer  is  adamant  in  his  theoretical  chapter  thatheispropouaf 
a  psychological  account  of  hysterical  mechanisms  -  he  even  apologises  tohii 
reader  for  excluding  physiological  types  of  explanation.  As  for  Freud,  H 
should  be  remembered  that  through  most  of  the  1880s  he  supportcd  • 
physiological  explanation  of  hysteria  and  was  highly  critical  of  the  psyclu^ 
logical  theories  associated  with  Bernheim.* 

None  of  the  theoretical  grounds  which  have  so  far  been  alleged  for  tht 
estrangement  between  Breuer  and  Freud  really  gets  to  the  root  of  the  diffa»' 
ences  between  thetn.  All  that  can  be  said  with  certainty  is  that  Breuer  ml 
Freud,  who  despite  their  personal  differences  had  reached  what  they  thou|M 
was  a  true  identity  of  view  concerning  the  mechanism  of  hysterical  phenomeÄ 
by  early  in  1893  when  they  published  their  Preliminary  Communicatkm, 
gradually  sensed  a  growing  rift  between  them  on  intellectual  as  well  a$  per 
sonal  grounds,  and  though  they  could  identify  the  signs  of  this  rift  in  tiM 
way  they  chose  to  interpret  certain  phenornena  or  in  the  weiglit  they  accordai 
to  certain  postulated  mechanisms,  they  remained  totally  unable  to  spedf| 
what  ultimately  underlay  these  divergences. 

Returning  to  the  Anna  O  case,  and  considering  it  as  a  screen  mcnM«y 
in  psychoanalytic  history,  what  does  it  convey?  Briefly,  it  says  that  in  i  p•^ 
history  of  psychoanalysis  there  occurred  a  treatment  episode  which  irti 
marked  by  great  inventiveness  on  the  part  of  the  physician,  aided  by  lill 
rather  remarkable  patient,  a  treatment,  however,  whose  successful  outco«! 
was  placed  in  jeopardy  througli  the  physician's  failure  to  grasp  an  essenftll 
implication  of  the  treatment  method  hc  himself  had  pioneered  (namcly  ik« 
transference  aspects  of  Anna  O  and  Breuer's  therapeutic  relationship). 

Thus,  we  have  a  collaborative  endeavour  which  finally  miscarried  du«  •> 
the  participant's  failure  to  recognise  a  disguised  but  vital  faclor  affccti^l 
their  interactions.  The  outcome,  therefore,  -  again  viewing  it  as  a  scieet 
meinory  was  unexpected  failure,  the  result  of  a  sudden  setback  whoü 
effects  remained  unresolved  because  the  physician  was  unable  to  counlc»» 
ance  the  true  State  of  affairs. 

Compare  this  screen  meniory  with  the  other  relationship  I  have  alluM 
to,  the  history  of  the  Breuer-Freud  partnership.  Here  again  we  find  a  joM 
pioneering  endeavour  which  miscarried  on  the  verge  of  success.  The  «» 
loward  cvent  in  this  case,  the  incident  which  inimediately  followcd  ihf 
apparently  successful  conipletion  of  their  work,  but  which  in  effect  nulllfiwl 
nmch  of  what  had  gone  before  was  Brcuer's  apparent  rcpudiation  (or  90  i 
appeared  to  Freud)  of  all  that  they  had  jointly  stood  lor. 

In  essence,  what   Breuer  was  saying  about  Freud's  latest  innovalion  (to 

*  Tbc  rcadcr  wishing  to  pursuc  in  greatcr  detail  the  theoretical  issiics  in  qucstion  ifitfev 
dispute  between  Breuer  and  Ireud  niay  eure  to  consuii  Models  oj  fhe  Mind  in  tht  tmtf 
Writin^s  oj  Sif^mund  hreud  (Recves,  1978),  especially  chapters  2  and  3. 


t 


tkory  of  defence  and  repression)  was  that  whilst  descriptivelv  it  was  füll  of 
^tftmx.scientifically  it  was  lacking  a  true  basis  in  hard  empir'ical  data  (S  E  2 
^236).  Freud's  Project  for  a  Scientific  Psychologv  (1950a)  written  within 
tmks  of  the  appearance  of  the  Studies  on  Hysteria  set  out  to  dispose  of  the 
«ithcsis  between  descriptive  and  scientific  explanations  which  Breuer  had 
wd  lü  criticise  the  drift  of  his  latest  innovations.  Begun  in  a  mood  of  absolute 
idf  confidence,  the  Project  was  abandoned  in  a  State  of  mental  disarray  a 
«oplc  of  months  later.  Moreover,  Freud  subsequently  displayed  towards  the 
•unuscript  of  this  ill  fated  Project  all  the  antipathy  and  rejection  which  he 
h^i  alleged  that  Breuer  had  displayed  towards  the  memory  of  Anna  O  (Kris 
1954).  ^  '^ 

lam  aware  that  in  introducing  ^rQ\xd\  Project  for  a  Scientific  Psychologv 
■Ho  the  discussion,  especially  in  so  summary  a  manner,  I  have  raiscd  issues 
lÄd  perspectives  which  take  us  far  from  the  original  starting  point,  Anna  O. 

Yct  if  we  really  want  to  explain  why  the  enigmatic  figure  of  Anna  O  has 
Ott  such  a  long  shadow  over  the  history  of  psychoanalysis  it  is  inipossible 
10  avoid  mention  of  the  Project.  In  a  sense  it  represents  Freud's  ^'terminal 
«pisodc"  with  Breuer.  The  reason  why  the  tradition  about  Breuer's  final 
tmbroilment  with  Anna  0  and  its  consequences  has  become  so  entrenched 
Jljc  history  of  psychoanalysis,  I  suggest,  is  that  it  served  as  a  convenient 
*^)lKcment  for  a  conflict  over  what  in  modern  scientific  Jargon  niight  be 
oRcd  the  proper  paradigm  for  psychoanalysis.  Weither  Freud  nor  his  biographer 
Jones  ever  satisfactorily  resolved  this  conflict.  And  one  has  only  to  make  the 
WM  cursory  inspection  of  the  latest  additions  to  the  perennial  debaie  about 
tiecsscntial  nature  of  psychoanalytic  theory  to  see  that  the  conflict  continues 
lounfold,  like  a  neurosis,  the  same  issues  taking  on  constantly  chansine  vet 
«rrcpeatedforms. 

Longwood  Cottages, 
148  Abingdon  Road, 
Slandlake, 
Ki.Witney, 
(hon,  0X8  7RL. 

tEFERENCES 

Oineficld,  P.F.   (1958)   -Josef  Breuer's  Evaluation  of  his  Contribution  to 
ftycho^nalysis''.  Int.  ./.  Psycho-anai,  39:319-322. 

ttkftberger,  H.F.  (1970)   The  Discovery  of  the  Unconscious  London-  Allen 
Une. 

?f".wT'  H>\  (1972)  -The  Story  of  Anna  O:  A  Critical  Review  and  New 
öiti  J.Hist.  Behav.  Sei.,  8:267-279. 

f«ud.  S.  with  Breuer,  J.  (1893a)  "On  the  Psvchical  Mechanism  of  Hysterical 

ntnomena:  Preliminary  Communication"  Stand'drd  Fd  2 

fftud,  S.  with  Breuer,  J.  ( 1895d)  Studies  on  Hysteria  Standard  Fd  2 

fftud,  S.  (19Ü5d)  Three  Essays  on  Sexuality  Standard  Fd.7. 


212 


213 


mmmmmm 


m 


i^  n 


M 


F'reud,  S.  (l925cJ)  An  Autohiographical  Study  Standard  Ed. 20. 

Freud,  S.  (1941b)  "Notiz  'I/f  "Standard  F:d.  1. 

Freud,  S.  ( 1 950a)  A  Project  for  a  Scientific  Psychology  Standard  Fd.l . 

Freud,  S.  {\9b0h)  Letters:  1873-1939  London:  Hogarth. 

HirschmuUer,  A.  (1978)  Physiologie  und  Psychoanalyse  in  Lehen  und  Werk 

J ose j  Breuers.  Bern:  Hans  Huber. 

Jones,  E.  (1953)9  Sigmund  Freud:  Life  and  Work   Vol.l.  London:  Hogarth. 

Kris,  F.  ( 1954)  The  Origins  of  Psychoanalysis  London:  Imago. 

Reeves,  A.C.  (1978)  Models  of  the  Mind  in  the  harly  Writings  of  Sigmund 

Freud  Unpublished  Ph.D.  Thesis,  Univ.  of  London. 


WH 


IChildPsycbotherapy,  1982.  Voi  8 

REVIEWS 

im  Raynor:  The  Adopted  Child  Comes  of  Age.  National  Institute  of  Social 
Services  Library  No.36,  1980.  George  Allen  and  Unwin.  Paperback,  £5.50. 

Thcrc  are  rather  few  studies  which  look  at  the  adult  outcome  of  adoptions, 
ind  Raynofs  is  valuable  for  this  reason.  The  book  is  the  result  of  a  study 
sponsored  by  the  Thomas  Coram  Foundation  for  Children.  This  research 
Hlcmpted  to  locate  all  the  adoptive  families  with  which  the  Thomas  Corarn 
Foundation  had  placed  a  child  born  between  1948  and  1951  inclusive,  and 
Co  interview  parents  and,  separately,  the  adoptees  themselves,  aged  between 
22  and  27  at  interview.  Because  the  Coram  Foundation  placements  all  involved 
I  pcriod  of  fostering  sometimes  for  several  years  -  before  the  adoption, 
one  of  the  questions  Raynor  wished  to  explore  was  whether  this  had  any 
effect  on  outcome.  The  study  therefore  included  a  second  group  of  adoptive 
families,  where  the  children,  born  over  the  same  1948-51  period,  had  been 
placed  directly  for  adoption  througli  the  National  Adoption  Society,  with 
DO  fostering  period  involved. 

Not  all  the  families  could  be  located,  or,  once  located,  agreed  to  the 
interview.  The  study  finally  comprised  interviews  with  160  families  and  with 
105  of  the  adoptees.  In  some  cases  the  adoptees  were  unavailable  for  inter- 
view for  other  reasons  ~  e.g.  living  abroad  -  but  in  36  cases  it  was  the  adoptive 
parents  who  declined  to  let  their  adult  son  or  daughter  be  interviewed.  It 
appears  that  frequently  their  decision  reflected  fears  of  stirrrng  up  thoughts 
and  feelings  about  the  adoption  which  parents  hoped  and  believed  their  child 
hadforgotten  about. 

Thus  already,  before  we  even  turn  to  the  interviews  themselves,  we  have 
an  indication  of  one  of  the  central  concerns  emerging  from  the  book:  the 
enonnous  unease  generated  in  some  of  the  parents  by  discussion  of  the 
adoption  and  the  child's  separate  biological  origins. 

Raynor  approaches  the  question  ''How  have  the  adoptions  turned  out?'' 
by  looking  at  the  overall  vicw  of  the  parents  and  the  adoptees,  as  well  as  at 
the  current  *1ife-adjustment''  of  the  adoptees.  As  she  points  out,  the  latter 
criterion  is  particulariy  handicapped  by  the  absence  of  a  comparison  group 
üf  non-adopted  people.  Without  such  a  group  it  is  difficult  to  assess  whether 
ihe  70%  *^good  adjustmcnt"  rate  is  grounds  for  optimism  about  adoption 
outcome,  or  whether  the  30%  marginal-to-poor  adjustment  rate  is  grounds 
for  pessimism.  Perhaps  it  means  more  to  say  that  857o  of  parents  and  80% 
of  adoptees  feit  their  adoption  had  worked  out  satisfactorily  -  usually  very 
much  so.  It  is  worth  bearing  this  satisfaction  in  mind  in  what  follows,  because 
inevitably  most  of  the  areas  which  are  of  particular  interest  in  the  book 
concern  difficulties  and  6//5-satisfactions. 

Before  turning  to  these,  however,  it  is  worth  making  a  general  point  about 
the  structure  of  the  study.  Raynor  had  access  to  two  sorts  of  infonnation. 


214 


215 


mmmm* 


ON  THE  HISTORY      (H^^^ 

In  his  trcat- 
mcnt  of  her  case,  Breuer  was  able  to  make  use  of  a  very  intensc 
suggestive  rapport  with  thc  patient.  which  may  serve  us  as  a 
complete  prototype  of  what  we  call  *transference'  to-day.  Now 
I  have  strong  reasons  for  suspecting  that  after  all  her  Symptoms 
had  been  relieved  Breuer  must  have  discovered  from  fiirther 
indications  the  sexual  motivation  of  this  transference,  but  that 
thc  universal  nature  of  this  unexpected  phenomenon  escaped 
him,  with  the  result  that,  as  though  confronted  by  an  'unto- 
ward  event*,!  he  broke  off  all  fiirther  investigation.  He  never 
Said  this  to  me  in  so  many  words,  but  he  told  me  enough  at 
different  times  to  justify  this  reconstruction  of  what  happened. 


'■^ 


AN  AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL  STUDY 


{lU^) 


he  too  shrank  from  recogniz- 
mg  the  sexual  aetiology  of  die  neuroses.  He  might  have  crushed  , 
me  or  at  least  disconcerted  me  by  pointing  to  his  own  first  n 
padent,  in  whose  case  sexual  factors  had  ostensibly  played  no 
part  whatever.  But  he  never  did  so,  and  I  could  not  understand  - 
why  this  was,  until  I  came  to  Interpret  the  case  correcdy  and  to 
reconstruct,  fh)m  somc  remarks  which  he  had  madc,  die  con- 
dusion  of  his  treatment  of  it.  After  die  work  of  catharsis  had 
seemed  to  bc  completed,  the  girl  had  suddenly  developed  a 
condition  of 'transference  love';  he  had  not  connected  this  widi 
her  illness,   and  had  thereforc  retired  in  dismay.«  It  was 
obviously  painfiil  to  him  to  bc  reminded  of  this  apparent 
contreUmps. 


"  JOSEF  BREUERS' 


("lur) 


It  must  have  called  for  a  large 
amount  of  personal  interest  and,  if  thc  phrase  can  bc  allowed, 
o£  medical  Ubido,  . .  ^ 


To  STEFAN  ZWEIG  r>>4- ~ 


*« , 


.-.•.-»•f- 


yv 


Vicnna,  Hohe  Warte,   3.6.1939 


w. 


What  reaUy  happened  with  Breuer^s  paücnt  I  was  able  >o 
guess  later  on,  long  after  the  break  in  our  rclations.  when  I  • 

suddenly  remembered  someüung  Breuer  had  once  told  me  in 
anoüier  context  before  we  had  begun  to  collaborate  and  which 
he  never  repeated.  On  thc  evening  of  the  day  when  all  her 
syniptoms  had  been  disposed  of,  he  was  summoned  to  the 
paticnt  again,  found  her  confused  and  writhing  in  abdominal 
cramps.  Asked  what  was  wrong  with  her,  she  replied:  "Now 
Dr,  B.*s  child  is  Coming!" 

At  this  moment  he  held  in  his  hand  the  key  that  would  have 
opened  the  **doors  to  the  Mothers",»  but  he  let  it  drop.  With  all 
his'  great  intellectual  gifts  there  was  nothing  Faustian  in  his 
nature,  Seized  by  conventional  horror  he  took  flight  and  aban- 
doned  the  paticnt  to  a  colleague.  For  months  afterwards  she 
struggled  to  regain  her  hcalth  in  a  Sanatorium. 

I  was  SO  convinced  of  this  reconstruction  of  mine  that  I 
published  it  somcwhere.  Breuer's  youngest  daughter  (born 
shorüy  after  the  above-mentioned  treatment,  not  without  sig- 
nificance  for  the  deeper  connections!)  read  my  account  and 
asked  her  father  about  it  (shorüy  before  his  death).  He  con- 
firmed  my  version,  and  she  informed  me  about  it  later. 

Very  sincerely  yours 

Freud 


/  I  found  reason  later  to  suppose  that  a  purelyi« 

emotional  factor,  too,  had  given  him  an  avereion  to  furthcr' 
work  on  thc  elucidation  of  thc  neuroses.  He  had  comc  up;. 
against  something  that  is  never  absent— his  patient*s  trans-:| 
ferencc  on  to  her  physician,  and  he  had  not  grasped  thc! 
impersonal  nature  of  the  process.  '  "^ 


Sigmund  Freud  to  his  fiancfee,  Martha  BernayS|  then  in  Hamburg:- 


[Vienna^]  Wednesday,  October  31f  1883  :   10:00  am 


•••  What  you  will  learn  about  me  from  Emma  Pappenheim  I  can 
teil  you  rightaway:  that  once  I  was  with  Breuer  in  front  of 
her  house  in  Gersthof «  and  that  once  she  ran  into  me  on  the 
Gersthof er  Hauptstrasse.  It  will  surely  interest  you  that 
your  friend  Hertha  P«  is  doing  well  in  the  Enzersdorfer  [sie] 
institution,  is  getting  rid  of  her  pains  and  her  morphine- 
poisoning,  and  is  rapidly  gaining  weight»  This  I  know  from  a 
colleague  Sekundariusi  who  is  known  there  and  who  sometimes 
drives  out  there  to  Substitute  for  Dr«  Breslauer,  He  is  very 
taken  with  the  girl,  with  her  piquant  looks  in  spite  of  the 
grey  hair^  her  wit  and  her  intelligence,  I  believe  that 9 
were  it  not  that^  as  a  psychiatrist ,  he  knows  so  acutely 
what  a  Gross  [to  have  to  hear2   is  the  disposition  to  severe 
hysterical  illnesseS|  he  would  have  fallen  in  love  with  her« 
But  discretion  all  aroundt  Marty«  Also  in  respect  of  what  I 
teil  you  now«  Breuer  too  has  a  very  high  opinion  of  her  and 
has  given  up  her  care  because  his  happy  marriage  threatened 
to  come  unstuck  on  account  of  it«  The  poor  wife  could  not 
bear  it  that  he  devoted  himself  so  exclusivexy  xo   a  woman^ 
about  whom  he  obviously  spoke  with  much  interest ^  and  was 
certainly  jealous  of  nothing  eise  but  the  engrossment  of 
her  husband  by  a  stranger«  Not  in  the  ugly,  tormenting  wayi 
but  in  the  quietly  resigned  manner«  She  feil  ill,  lost  her 
spiritSf  until  it  dawned  on  him  and  he  learned  the  reason 
for  it|  which  of  course  was  a  command  for  him  to  withdraw 
completely  from  his  activity  as  physician  of  B«P««  Can  you 
be  silent|  Marty?  It  is  nothing  dishonourable ,  but  rather 
something  very  intimate  and  that  one  keeps  to  oneself  and 
one*s  beloved«  I  know  it  of  course  from  him  personally;  he 
seemed  to  hint  that  something  about  his  staying  away  is 
circulating«  I  could  not  teil  him  what«  You  ^  my  dsurling^ 
will  also  not  ask  after  it« 


I  have  to  close  because  I  still  have  to  go  to  Ultzmann 


•  • 


your  faithful  Sigmund 


y^y  '  '■  ♦'••^     • /.   ^ 


SIGMUND  FREUD:   LIFE  AND   WORK 


{liss) 


Freud  has  related  to  mc  a  fuller  account  than  he  describcd  in 
his  writings  of  the  peculiar  circumstances  surrounding  the  cnd 
of  this  novel  treatment.  It  would  seem  that  Breuer  had  developed 
what  we  should  nowadays  call  a  streng  counter-transferencc  to 
his  interesting  patient.  At  all  cvents  hc  was  so  cngrossed  that 
his  wife  became  bored  at  listcning  to  no  other  topic,  and  beforc 
long  jealous.  She  did  not  display  this  openly,  but  became  un- 
happy  and  morose.  It  was  long  before  Breuer,  with  his  thoughts 
clsewhere,  divined  the  meaning  of  her  State  of  mind.  It  provoked 
a  violent  reaction  in  him,  perhaps  compounded  of  love  and 
guilt,  and  hc  decided  to  bring  the  treatment  to  an  cnd.  He 
announced  this  to  Anna  O.,  who  was  by  now  much  bcttcr,  and 

bac^e  her  good-byc,  But  that  evening  he  was  fetched  back,  to 
find  her  in  a  greatly  excited  State,  appa^^ently  as  ill  as  evcr.  The 
patient,  i.'ho  accon^".ng  to  him  had  appeared  to  bc  an  asexual 
being  ?.na  had  nevti*  made  any  allusion  to  such  a  forbidden 
topic  tliioun;hout  the  rrcatmcnt,  was  now  in  the  throes  of  an 
hys!?rical  ch^ldbirth  (p:-*udocyesisy,"  the  logical  termination  of 
a  phantom  p  .*gnancy  t^at  had  bcen  invisibly  developing  in 
respoi»i:e  t'^  ?rcuer's  miristrations.  Though  profoundly  shocked, 
hc  manag jd  to  cdm  her  down  by  i^ypnotizing  her,  and  then 
fled  the  house  in  ^x  cold  swCäI.  The  next  day  he  and  his  wife 
left  for  Venice  to  spcnd  a  £-*cond  honeynioon,  which  rcsulted 
in  the  conception  of  a  daughtc:;  the  girl  bom  in  these  curious 
circumstances  was  nearly  sixty  years  later  to  commit  suicidc  in 
Vienna  to  escarje  the  Nazis.  ;v  ;  ,i    reiH*^. . 

Confirmation  of  this  account  may  bf.  found  in  a  conten:  porary 
letter  Freud  wrote  to  Martha  which  contains  substantially  the 
same  sto^yu*  She  at  once  identified  herseif  with  Breuer's  wife, 
and  hoped  the  same  thing  would  not  evcr  happen  to  her,  where- 
:.  lipon  Freud  rcproved  her  vanity  in  supposing  that  other  women 
*  would  *all  in  love  with  her  husband:  Tor  that  to  happen  onc 
has  to  be  &  Breuer.*  * 

The  poor  patient  did  not  fare  so  well  as  onc  might  gather 

r  from  Breuer's  published  account.  Rclapses  took  place,  and  she 

):  was  removed  io  an  instiintion  in  Gross  Enzersdorf.  A  year  aftcr 

discontiriaiiig  the  treatment  Breuer  confided  io  Freud  that  she 

was  quitc  unhinged  and  that  hc  wished  she  would  die  and  so 

rte  released  froru  her  suffering.*  She  improved,  however,  and 

gave  up  morphsa.  A  fcw  years  later  Martha  relatcs  hovf  *Anna 

O.*,  who  happened  to  bc  an  old  friend  of  hers  :md  later  a 

connection  by  marriage,  visited  her  more  than  once.  She  was 

then  pretty  well  in  the  day-time,  but  still  suffered  from  her 

hallucinatory  staies  as  evening  drew  oh:*'  - 

Frl.  Berlha  (Anna  O.)  w;5s  not  only  highly  intelligent,  but 
cxtrcmely  attractive  in  physiquc  and  persohality;  when  rcmoved 

*  ^  In  this  connection  it  is  of  interest  thüt  her  first  social  werk,  beginning 
in  1890,  was  to  spcnd  twclvc  years  as  'Mother*  of  an  orphan  institudon. 
Later,  however  (Apr.  8,  1922),  she  was  to  writc:  *Ii  thcrc  h  any  justice 
in  the  next  life  women  will  make  the  laws  there  and  men  will  bcar  the 
children.V  .    .      %   -^  ..        .    •.•.^..>.. 

•  M.,  Oct.  31,  1883.    ■      '  •  M.,  Nov.  11,  1883. 
--^*M.,  Aug.  5,  1883.  ^     .    :  A> 

•  Letters  from  Martha  to  her  mothcr,  Jan.  2  aiid  May  31,  1887.    * 


1^, 

• 


*• 
\ 


.    » 


to  the  Sanatorium  she  inflamed  the  heart  of  the  psychiatrist  in 
Charge.  Her  mother,  who  was  somewhat  of  a  dragon,  had  come 
from  Frankfurt  and  took  her  daughter  back  there  for  good  at 
the  cnd  of  the  eighties.  Bertha,  who  was  bom  and  brought  up 
in  Vienna,  retained  her  Viennese  gracc,  charm  and  humour. 
Some  years  before  she  died  she  composed  five  witty  obituary 
notices  of  herseif  for  different  periodicals.  A  very  serious  side, 
however,  developed  when  she  was  thirty,  and  she  became  the 
first  social  worker  in  Germany,  one  of  the  first  in  the  world. 
She  founded  a  periodical  and  several  institutes  where  she 
trained  students.  A  major  part  of  her  life's  work  was  given  to 
women's  causes  and  emancipation,  but  work  for  children  also 
ranked  high.  Among  her  exploits  were  several  expeditions  to 
Russia,  Poland  and  Roumania  to  rescue  children  whose  parents 
had  perished  in.pogroms.  She  never  married,  and  she  remained 
very  devoted  to  God.^  •  !.      >     ^    *   -  i -vv  *  ,» 

/  Some  tcn  years  later,  at  a  time  when  Breuer  and  Freud  were 
studying  cases  together,  Breuer  called  him  into  consultation 
about  the  case  of  an  hystcriciü  pat'ent.  Before  going  in  to  see  her 
he  described  her  Symptoms,  whereupon  Freud  pointed  out  that 
they  were  typical  products  of  a  phantasy  of  pregnancy.  The 
recurrence  of  the  old  Situation  .was  too  much  for  Breuer.  With- 
out  saying  a  word  he  took  up  his  hat  and  stick  and  hurriedly 
left  the  house.  .    '  « 

Freud  was  greatly  interested  in  hearing  of  the  famous  case 
of  Anna  O.,  which  he  did  soon  after  its  termination  in  June, 
1882;  to  be  cxact,  on  November  18.*  It  was  so  far  outside  his 
experience  that  it  made  a  deep  impression  on  him,  and  he 
would  discuss  the  details  of  it  with  Breuer  over  and  over  again. 
When  he  got  to  Paris  and  had  an  opportunity  of  talking  with 
Charcot,  he  told  him  about  the  remarkable  discovery,  but  as  he 
remarked  to  me,  *Charcot's  thoughts  seemed  to  be  elsewhere* 
and  he  quite  failed  to  arouse  his  interest.  This  seems  for  a  time 
to  have  damped  his  own  enthusiasm  about  the  discovery. 


M  IS^'^^ 


''i'<^    (liiii. 


I  ■- 


c 


l' 


^ '  u///y  la/n 


/  i  (_  <• 


/•^(^ 


i;/-/_  ,     ^ 


'^10 


"iutitifi    ii^t'iuM 


\ 


18 


A^,    Ar^luA^^.     ^^VU   ^^tx^oMAAAx^  Mas^^>^^  QuvJt^'cly  :   j.^v^^  OcuV    f%^  /^^4^ 


THE    HAPSBURG    MONARCHY 

dorscd  the  Pragmatic  Sanction,  to  lay  claim  to  the  industrially  rieh  and 
heavily  German-inhabited  province  of  Silesia,  part  o£  the  lands  of  the  Bohe- 
mian  crown.  An  appeal  to  arms  to  decide  the  issue  opened  the  first  miHtary 
chapter  in  the  prolonged  contest  between  Hohenzollern  Prussia  and  Haps- 
burg  Austria  for  supremacy  in  central  Europe,  a  struggle  that  closed  only 
in  1866.  The  armies  of  Frederick  seized  most  of  Silesia  and  held  on  perma- 
nently,  despite  repeated  and  valiant  Austrian  attempts  to  repossess  it;  and 
it  was  this  choice  territorial  morsel,  with  its  iron  resources  and  manufac- 
tures,  which  largely  enabled  Prussia  to  claim  a  place  among  the  first  powers 
of  Europe. 

Throughout  the  arduous  tussles  with  Prussia,  subject  peoples  of  the  Haps- 
burgs  were  generally  faithful  to  the  dynasty,  loyal  defenders  of  the  suprana- 
tional realm.  To  curry  favor  in  Bohemia,  Maria  Theresa  was  crowned  with 
the  ancient  crown  of  the  kingdom,  but  bit  by  bit  she  whittled  away  the 
limited  rights  of  the  local  diet  and  merged  the  administrative  institutions 
with  those  of  Austria  proper." 

Without  the  devoted  support  of  Hungary  it  is  doubtful  whether  the  Haps- 
burg  State  could  have  sustained  the  struggle  with  Prussia  at  all.  Magyar 
oligarchs,  though  chafing  under  the  infringement  of  their  medieval  rights, 
rallied  behind  the  crown  when  Maria  Theresa  confirmed  their  liberties,  in- 
cluding  exemption  from  taxation,  and  declared  Fiume  to  be  a  "corpus  se- 
paratum"  of  the  crown  of  St.  Stephen.  Yet,  bent  as  she  was  upon  unifying 
the  Monarchy,  the  queen  placed  Hungarian  State  finances  more  thoroughly 
under  the  direction  of  Vienna  and  invested  royal  lieutenants  with  part  of 
the  authority  of  the  old  county  assemblies. 

Affluent  Magyar  grandees  were  assigned  posts  in  the  imperial  Service  at 
Vienna,  married  German  wives,  and  became  markedly  "Austro-German"  in 
outlook.  But  the  lesser  Magyar  gentry  stubbornly  held  to  the  national  lan- 
guage  and  literature,  the  national  customs  and  costumes,  to  be  preserved  at 
all  costs,  along  with  inherited  political  institutions,  from  imperial  encroach- 
ment. 

Compensation,  in  a  sense,  for  the  loss  of  the  greater  part  of  Silesia  accrued 
to  Austria  in  the  form  of  a  section  of  Poland.  Sharing  with  Russia  and  Prus- 
sia in  the  first  partition  of  that  country  in  1772,  Austria  gained  the  province 
of  Galicia  (or,  more  accurately,  Galicia,  Lodomeria,  and  the  county  of  Zips), 
inhabited  by  Poles  and  Ruthenians  or  Ukrainians.  In  1795  another  chunk  of 
Poland,  which  included  the  cities  of  Cracow  and  Lublin,  passed  into  the 
Hapsburg  orbit.  Austria  also  laid  claim  to  northern  Moldavia,  a  Turkish 
property,  to  the  southeast  of  Galicia,  in  which  Russia  had  an  intercst,  and 
which  was  peopled  by  a  heterogeneous  peasantry,  mostly  Ruthenians  and 
Rumanians.  Under  pressure  from  Vienna,  the  Porte  relinquished  sovercignty, 
and  the  area  entered  (1777)  the  polyglot  Hapsburg  realm  as  the  Bucovina. 


THE    REALM    OF    THE    HAPSBURGS 


19, 


V 


Joseph  II  (1780-1790),  who  had  been  coregent  with  his  mother  and  suc- 
ceedcd  her  on  ihe  throne,  belongs  near  the  top  of  the  benevolent  autocrats  of 
the  agc.  He  carried  forward  the  work  of  monarchical  centralization  which 
Maria  Theresa  had  started.^^  Influenced  by  the  philosophy  of  the  "Enlighten- 
ment"  and  utterly  contemptuous  of  traditions  and  Conventions,  he  ordained 
that  German  should  be  the  official  language  of  the  realm  save  for  Galicia  and 
the  Italian  provinces.  No  friend  of  organized  Christianity,  this  innovating, 
doctrinaire  experimentalist  proclaimed  frecdom  of  worship,  suppressed  mon- 
asteries  by  the  dozen,  and  deprived  foreign-born  bishops  of  their  properties. 
Thus  he  established  a  tradition  of  anticlericalism  in  Austria,  which  never 
wholly  died  away,  and  many  an  Austro-German  of  the  next  Century  was 
accustomed  to  refer  to  his  political  creed  as  "Josefinismus,"  which  he  ap- 
pealed  to  whenever  clericaÜsm  had  to  be  combatted  or  the  leadership  of  the 
German  dement  in  the  monarchy  seemed  to  be  endangered. 

For  the  wclfarc  of  commoners  Joseph  II  displayed  a  deep  and  abiding  con- 
cern,  and  for  their  benefit  he  publishcd  many  humanitarian  measures.  On 
his  command,  for  instance,  the  peasantry  was  liberated  from  serfage,  the 
penal  code  was  humanized,  punishment  of  allcged  witches  was  stopped,  and 
discriminations  against  Jews  were  relaxed. 

Rcforms  are  seldom  populär  with  those  whose  interests  and  convictions 
are  or  seem  to  be  adversely  aflected,  and  it  was  thus  in  the  realm  of  Joseph  II. 
His  innovations  roused  violent  hostility  in  conservative  and  conventional 
circles.  Proudly  conservative  Magyar  aristocrats,  enraged  by  religious  and 
social  changes,  were  further  embittercd  by  the  refusal  of  Joseph  II  to  take 
the  royal  coronation  oath  or  to  convoke  the  Hungarian  diet.  Similar  discon- 
tent  and  antidynastic  rumblings  prevailcd  among  big  landowners  in  Bohemia, 
in  Galicia,  and  in  Lombardy.  And  in  every  province  militant  Catholic 
clericalism  raiscd  the  battle  cry  that  "religious  toleration  is  the  parent  of 
disscnsion." 

Just  before  "the  revolutionary  emperor"  died,  rebellion  broke  out  in  the 
Austrian  Netherlands,  diplomatic  relations  with  Prussia  were  strained  almost 
to  the  point  of  rupture,  and  Hapsburg  troops  were  actually  at  war  with  Tur- 
kcy.  The  economic  life  of  the  realm,  morcover,  was  well-nigh  prostrate. 

Zcal  for  reform  had  inspired  the  ambitious  monarch  to  try  to  accomplish 
too  much  too  quickly,  and  to  his  contemporaries  his  short  reign  must  have 
seemed  a  mere  parenthesis,  a  weird  political  monstrosity.  For  his  tomb, 
Joseph  II  composed  his  own  epitaph:  "Hcrc  lies  Joseph  II,  who  was  unfor- 
tunate  in  all  his  enterprises." 

His  brother,  the  new  ruler,  Leopold  II  (1790-1792),  radically  reversed  State 
policies,  repealed  reforms  right  and  left,  remanded  the  peasants  to  bondage, 
restored  Catholic  privileges,  and  endeavored  to  appease  national  minorities. 
The  Hungarian  assembly,  for  one  thing,  was  called  together,  and  it  clearly 


/ 


20 


THE    HAPSBURG    MONARCHY 


and  cleverly  reasserted  the  liberties  and  constitutional  rights  of  the  Magyar 
nation. 

"Hungary,"  the  law  of  the  diet  read,  "together  with  the  parts  thereunto 
annexed,  is  a  free  kingdom  and  independent  as  regards  the  whole  form  of 
government  .  .  .  [it]  is  possessed  of  its  own  separate  existence  and  must 
consequently  be  governed  and  ruled  by  its  hereditary  king,  crowned  accord- 
ing  to  law."  At  the  same  time  Hungarian  lordship  over  Croatia  was  reaf- 
firmed,  for  the  Croatian  diet  at  Agram  formally  resolved  that  aflairs  of 
concern  to  both  kingdoms  should  be  regulated  at  Budapest;  only  domestic 
matters— not  defined  with  precision — remained  within  the  competence  of  the 
Croatian  assembly.  Taken  together,  these  measures  attested  that  the  Magyar 
governing  elements,  which  had  been  on  the  defensive  ever  since  the  catas- 
trophe  at  Mohacs,  had  assumed  the  initiative,  and  they  held  it  through  the 
succeeding  Century. 

Prudence  and  wisdom  characterized  Leopold  II's  dealings  with  Bohemia. 
He  convoked  the  diet,  listened  to  local  grievances,  agreed  to  modest  political 
changes,  and  had  himself  formally  crowned  as  king.  At  Prague  he  attended 
theatrical  Performances  in  the  Czech  language,  and  heard  a  scholarly  lec- 
ture  in  Czech  on  the  importance  of  the  Hapsburg  Slavs.  While  Leopold 
reigned,  the  growth  of  the  Czech  intelligentsia  was  fostered  by  the  estab- 
lishment  of  a  chair  in  the  Czech  language  at  the  University  and  by  the 
building  of  Czech  gymnasia  in  Prague. 

IX 

Like  the  rest  of  Europe,  the  Monarchy  of  the  Hapsburgs  was  stirred  to  the 
depths  by  the  French  Revolution  and  the  ambitions  of  Napoleon  Bonaparte. 
Lust  for  territorial  aggrandizement,  dynastic  ties  with  the  French  queen, 
Marie  Antoinette,  daughter  of  Empress  Maria  Theresa,  dread  of  the  reper- 
cussions  that  the  French  revolutionary  ideology  would  have  upon  its  own 
repressed  and  nationally  diversified  subjects,  the  upthrust  of  patriotic  senti- 
ments  among  the  Austro-Germans— these  varied  interests  and  impulses  made 
the  House  of  Hapsburg  the  implacable  foe  of  revolutionary  and  Napoleonic 
France. 

Warfare  with  France  started  in  1792  and  persisted  with  interruptions  until 
the  fallen  Bonaparte  as  an  abject  prisoner  was  shipped  to  a  desolate  isle  in 
the  Southern  reaches  of  the  Atlantic.  More  than  once  in  the  interval  Haps- 
burg arms  tasted  defeat,  more  than  once  the  French  adventurer  dictated 
humiliating  terms  of  peace  to  the  venerable  Hapsburg  State.  And  to  Napo- 
leon, Emperor  Francis  I  (1792-1835)^^  offered  up  his  daughter,  Marie  Louise, 
as  a  matrimonial  sacrifice  quite  in  conformity  with  the  cherished  maxim  of 
the  dynasty:  "Bella  gerant  aliil  Tu,  felix  Austria,  nube." 

Hapsburg  soldiers,  it  is  true,  inflicted  a  major  defeat  upon  the  French  at 


I 

t 

1 


THE    REALM    OF    THE    HAPSBURGS 


21 


Aspern,  dose  by  Vienna  (1809);  the  arniy  was  commanded  by  Archduke 
Charles,  whose  niilitary  prestige  rivals  that  of  Prince  Eugene  of  Savoy  in 
Austnan  annals.  Both  herocs  on  prancing  chargers  adorn  the  Heldenplatz 
in  the  Iieart  of  Vienna.  The  Commander  of  the  alHcd  troops  which  adminis- 
tercd  a  catastrophic  whipping  to  Napoleon  at  Leipzig  in  1813  was  the  Aus- 
tnan Ficld  Marshai  Charles  Schwarzcnberg,  who  is  remembered  in  another 
ot  Vienna  s  equcstrian  monuments. 

Not  to  bc  outshone  by  the  parvenu  Bonaparte,  who  had  been  crowned  as 
French  emperor  in  1804,  Francis  I  proclaimed  himself  Austrian  emperor  in 
the  same  year  and  bestowed  upon  the  realm  of  the  Hapsburgs  the  title  of 
lim,,ne  of  Austria.  Magyar  and  Czech  spokesmen  promptly  repudiated  this 
Innovation,  for  it  implied,  or  seemed  to  imply,  the  loss  of  the  independent 
intcgrity  jealously  claimed  for  Hungary  and  Bohemia.  In  1806  the  moribund 
Holy  Roman  Empire,  whose  headship  had  for  almost  four  centuries  been 
v.riually  hereditary  in  the  Hapsburg  family,  was  unccremoniously  laid  in 
the  gravc. 

Territorial  permutations  and  combinations  which  crowded  the  Napoleonic 
epoch  entailed  vcry  considerable  alterations  in  the  Hapsburg  map,  mostly  im- 
permancnt.  At  the  international  congress  that  wrote  Settlements  of  peace  after 
the  Napoleonic  warfare,  convened  significanily  in  Vienna,  and  presided  over 
by  the  suave  Austrian  foreign  minister  and  later  chanccllor,  Count  Clemens 
Metiermch,  the  House  of  Hapsburg  achieved  imprcssive  territorial  gains. 
But  it  was  obhged  to  renounce  title  to  ihc  southern  Netherlands,  modern 
ßelgium,  and  small  holdings  along  the  Rhine." 

By  the  Treaty  of  Vienna,  Dalmatia,  wcstern  Istria,  scattered  islands  in  the 
Adnatic,  which  were  formerly  possessions  of  the  Venetian  republic,  Venetia 
itsell,  and  the  adjoining  province  of  Lomhardy,  passed  ander  the  Austrian 
scepter.  Inasmuch  as  members  of  the  Hapsburg  dynasty  held  the  thrones 
of  1  uscany,  Parma,  and  Modena,  and  since  Austrian  influencc  in  the  Papal 
State  and  in  the  kingdom  of  the  Two  Sicilies  was  extensive,  the  Italian  penin- 
sula  had  much  the  appearance  of  an  appendage  to  the  Austrian  empire. 
Pohsh  Galicia,  less  actually  of  the  Polish  kingdom  than  had  belonged  to 
Austria  before  the  advent  of  Napoleon  but  still  a  largc  area,  was  assigned 
to  t^ie  Hapsburgs.  And  the  tiny  republic  of  Cracow,  the  sole  free  fragment 
of  Poland  Icft  by  the  peacemakers  of  1815,  was  ultimately  absorbcd  by  Aus- 
tria in  1846  with  the  sanction  of  Prussia  and  Russia,  partners  in  the  Polish 
partilion. 

As  a  Substitute  for  the  discarded  Holy  Roman  Empire,  statesmen  at  the 
Congress  of  Vienna  invented  the  loose  German  Confederation  which  em- 
braced  all  of  German  Europe  and  that  part  of  the  Hapsburg  realm  which 
had  belonged  to  the  Holy  Roman  Empire;  and  Austria  was  givcn  the  presi- 
dency  of  the  diet  of  the  confederation  in  pcrpetuity.  Acceptance  of  that  rc- 


22 


THE    HAPSBURG    MONARCHY 


sponsibility  signified  the  Austrian  intention  to  play  a  leading  part  in  German 
affairs  of  the  f uture  as  it  had  in  the  past.  In  fact,  in  Germany  and  in  Italy 
the  Austrian  government  was  constrained  to  balk,  if  possible,  territorial  uni- 
fication  and  Uberalizing  tendencies  as  essentiai  for  the  preservation  o£  the 
many-tongued  Hapsburg  realm  itself. 


In  the  forepart  of  the  nineteenth  Century,  Francis  I  (1792-1835),  the  dry, 
bureaucratic,  and  reactionary  Austrian  emperor,  and  his  faithful  servant, 
Metternich,  were  devoted  to  the  conservative  pattern,  to  the  maintenance  of 
the  territorial  Status  quo,  to  the  Germanization  of  subject  peoples,  and  to 
patriarchal  autocracy.  The  emperor's  political  philosophy  was  crystallized  in 
the  injunction,  *'Govern  and  change  nothing."  To  these  gentlemen,  the  rad- 
ical  ideas  unloosed  by  the  French  Revolution  and  given  wide  currency  by 
the  charioteers  of  Bonaparte  were  anathema,  charged  with  dynamite,  to  be 
repressed  at  all  costs.  **My  realm,"  remarked  Francis  I  to  a  Russian  diploma- 
tist, "resembles  a  worm-eaten  house.  If  one  part  is  removed  one  can  not 
teil  how  much  will  fall,"  and  that  line  of  logic  was  never  absent  from  the 
calculations  of  the  directors  of  Hapsburg  policies.  Such  schooling  as  was 
made  available  served  as  a  facile  Instrument  for  indoctrinating  pupils  with 
a  sense  of  allegiance  to  the  Status  quo}^ 

Ahle  men,  the  Rhineland-born  chancellor  Metternich  excepted,  Francis  I 
distrusted  and  kept  in  Subordination.  And  Metternich 's  weight  in  domestic 
aflairs  was  limited,  though  he  is  erroneously  supposed  to  have  been  omnipo- 
tent. As  he  himself  candidly  acknowledged,  "J'ai  gouverne  TEurope  quel- 
quefois,  TAutriche  jamais."  Elaborate  and  closely  reasoned  recommendations 
which  the  chancellor  sponsored  for  modest  reforms  in  government  were 
carefully  pigeonholed,  though  he  saw  to  it  that  every  province  had  an  as- 
sembly  to  scrutinize  projects  of  law  and  tax  proposals.  By  means  of  the  bu- 
reaucratic trinity,  police,  espionage,  and  rigorous  censorship,  the  masters  of 
Austria  attempted  to  hold  the  realm  in  a  strait  jacket." 

Ferdinand  I,  who  succeeded  to  the  throne  in  1835,  was  genial  and  benevo- 
lent-minded  enough,  but  otherwise  he  was  ill-endowed,  and  a  victim  of 
epilepsy.  He  was,  in  fact,  little  more  than  a  head  upon  which  to  rest,  one 
after  another,  the  varied  crowns  of  the  dynasty.  State  aflairs  were  actually 
directed  by  a  Council  of  three  men,  Metternich  among  them,  who  quarreled 
among  themselves  to  the  detriment  of  imperial  well-being. 

Try  as  they  would,  the  ruling  authorities  could  not  curb  the  centrifugal 
dynamics  of  nationalism,  nor  stifle  the  notion  of  populär  participation  in 
government  which  the  French  Revolution  had  brought  to  the  fore.  All 
across  the  realm  nationalist  movements  gathered  force  in  the  early  decades 
of  the  nineteenth  Century,  and  they  were  not  only  a  challenge  to  dynastic 


THE    REALM    OF    THE    HAPSBURGS 


23 


I 

i 


i- 


authoritarianism  but  positively  dangerous  for  the  unity  of  the  Hapsburg 
State.  Provincial  assemblies  served  as  forums  in  which  to  voice  dissatisfaction 
with  prcvailing  arrangements  and  to  agitate  on  behalf  of  the  natural  rights 
of  men.  Intellectuals  of  many  kinds  and  all  tongues  inveighed  heatedly 
against  the  rigors  of  the  censorship.  True,  laws  regulating  the  importation 
of  foreign  books  were  relaxed  in  the  1840's,  but  restrictions  on  periodicals 
and  newspapcrs  stood  unchanged. 

Industrialism,  in  the  meantime,  the  supreme  revolutionizing  force  of  the 
nineteenth  Century,  had  started  to  transform  the  economy  of  the  empire,  or 
rather  of  sections  of  it.  The  laying  down  of  railways  in  the  thirties  and  for- 
ties  symbolized  the  dawning  of  the  new  machine  age  in  the  old  State. 
With  machinofacture  both  the  middle  class  and  the  industrial  working  class 
grew  larger;  both  were  restive  under  the  existing  political  and  social  order; 
both  were  touched  by  the  revolutionary  ideology  of  1789. 

Even  in  the  countryside  open  discontent  with  anachronistic  customs  and 
institutions  displayed  itself.  Protests  over  the  bondage  of  serfdom  and  de- 
mands  for  reformation  in  landholding  were  frequent  and  loud  in  Austria 
proper  and  in  Bohemia,  while  a  murderous  jacquerie  of  Ruthenian  laborers 
against  thcir  Polish  masters  in  Galicia  in  1846  strikingly  testified  to  the  prev- 
alcnce  of  deep-seated  grievances  with  the  Status  quo}^ 

XI 

Throughout  the  Napoleonic  era  Hungary  was  no  less  loyal  to  the  Haps- 
burg crown  than  in  the  trying  years  of  Maria  Theresa's  reign.  True,  a  secret 
Society  of  intellectuals  inspired  by  French  revolutionary  principles  was  organ- 
izcd,  but  its  mcmbership  was  small  and  its  life  short.  Magyar  chiefs  would 
have  nothing  to  do  with  a  shimmering  overture  made  by  Bonaparte,  which 
would  have  given  Hungary  independence.  Rather  the  military  requisitions 
of  the  crown,  which  drained  the  land  of  men  and  goods,  were  dutifully  met 
in  spite  of  the  fact  that  the  national  Constitution  was  suspended  and  the  royal 
dict  not  assembled  between  181 1  and  1825. 

These  infringements  upon  tradition  fostered  a  Hungarian  national  revival 
which,  in  some  of  its  manifestations,  was  defiriitely  anti-Hapsburg.  Men  of 
letters  in  this  Augustan  age  of  Magyar  literaturc  encouraged  the  use  of  the 
mother  tongue  and  propagated  nationalistic  and  even  Separatist  sentiments. 
The  establishment  of  a  Hungarian  acadcmy  of  science  and  of  a  national 
thcatcr  were  concrete  signs  of  the  Magyar  cultural  renaissance.  When,  on 
the  urgings  of  Prince  Metternich,  the  diet  was  at  last  restored,  law  upon 
law  was  passed  with  the  object  of  making  Magyar  the  language  of  all  the 
peoj)les  of  Hungary. 

Nationalistically  minded  men— for  the  aristocrats,  Count  Stephen 
Szechenyi,  coiner  of  the  optimistic  watchword,  "prefer  to  think  not  that 


36 


THE    HAPSBURG    MONARCHY 


GOVERNMENTS    OF    THE    DUAL    MONARCHY 


37 


"a  veil  to  be  drawn  over  the  past,"  and  by  the  distribution  of  thc  customary 
coronation  gifts  among  invalided  Hungarians  and  widows  and  orphans  of 
thosc  who  had  participated  in  the  insurrection  of  184S-49.  A  general  am- 
nesty  was  decreed  for  all  connected  with  that  dismal  chapter  in  Hungarian 
history. 

So  weak  had  the  sentiment  for  revolution  become  that  even  the  veteran 
insurgent,  General  Klapka,  assured  Andrassy  that  "in  the  resurrection  of  the 
Constitution  he  saw  the  beginning  of  a  happy  period  for  our  people  and  the 
first  Step  toward  its  vital  task  in  eastern  Europe."  If  the  Ausgleich  of  1867 
did  not  create  a  symmetrical  System  of  government  for  the  Hapsburg  realm, 
it  went  far  to  conciliate  the  Magyar  ruling  class,  and  that  was  the  immediate 
object.  It  is  not  difficult  to  imagine  a  constitutional  framework  superior  to 
the  one  that  was  devised,  but  at  the  time  it  was  probably  the  best  that  could 
be  worked  out. 

III 

Steps  had  been  taken  in  the  meantime  to  place  constitutionalism  on  a  solid 
footing  in  the  Austrian  half  of  the  Monarchy.  To  ratify  the  Ausgleich  with 
Hungary  and  to  remodel  the  governmental  machinery  of  the  empire  of  Aus- 
tria,  parliament  would  have  to  be  convoked. 

According  to  the  February  Constitution  of  1861,  deputies  of  the  lower 
house  of  parliament  were  to  be  chosen  by  the  provincial  diets  on  the  basis  of 
socioeconomic  classes  or  curiae.  On  the  proposal  of  Count  Belcredi,  with 
Beust  in  support,  the  emperor  issucd  a  rescript,  January  2,  1867,  calling  an 
"extraordinary  parliament,"  extraordinary  because  it  would  be  elected  by 
the  diets  without  reference  to  the  curiae.  Since  this  change  in  the  clectoral 
law  promised  to  bring  victory  to  the  advocates  of  a  federalized  Austria, 
angry  protests  were  registered  by  German  liberals,  who  vainly  argued  that 
deputies  should  be  chosen  as  prescribed  in  the  February  Constitution. 

In  the  election  that  followed,  the  diets  of  Bohemia,  Moravia,  Carniola,  and 
Galicia  chose  friends  of  federalism — men  who  were  in  the  main  unsympa- 
thetic  to  the  projected  compromise  with  Hungary.  From  the  German  prov- 
inces,  on  the  other  band,  deputies  were  returned  who  were  decidedly  favor- 
able  to  the  Ausgleich,  but  they  declined  to  take  seats  in  thc  extraordinary 
parliament. 

Beust,  who  had  changed  his  mind  regarding  the  extraordinary  parliament, 
counseled  its  abandonment  as  federalistic  and  dangerous  for  the  dualistic 
deal  with  Hungary,  but  Belcredi  hotly  dissented.  Differences  between  the 
two  men  were  ventilated  before  the  emperor  who,  after  his  customary  deliber- 
ation,  sided  with  the  Saxon.  Thereupon  Belcredi  resigned,  Beust  was  named 
minister-president  of  Austria,  and  the  way  was  cleared  for  a  speedy  Solution 
of  constitutional  questions. 


,! 


l  . 


I. 


! 


I 
1 


■  l 


On  February  18,  1867,  an  imperial  message  to  the  Austrian  diets  an- 
nounced  that  thc  extraordinary  parliament  had  been  given  up  and  that  a  par- 
liament elected  by  the  several  classes  would  be  called  a  month  later.  To  that 
body  bills  would  be  presented  making  such  modifications  in  the  Austrian  Con- 
stitution as  were  necessitated  by  the  impending  Ausgleich  with  Hungary,  cre- 
ating  a  responsible  ministry,  enlarging  provincial  home  rule,  and  improving 
thc  fighting  Services  and  the  judiciary.  When  the  diets  of  Bohemia,  Moravia, 
and  Carniola  reported  that  they  would  not  send  representatives  to  parlia- 
ment, they  were  summarily  dissolved.  The  Galician  diet  hesitated,  but  the 
othcrs  chose  delegates  and  after  the  lapse  of  a  few  weeks  newly  chosen  diets 
of  Bohemia,  Moravia,  and  Carniola  followed  suit.  In  the  Bohemian  diet  a 
majority  sympathetic  to  the  ministry*s  wishes  was  secured  by  official  pres- 
sure and  by  the  personal  influence  of  Francis  Joseph  among  the  landed 
nobility. 

Generally  pleased  over  the  course  evcnts  had  taken,  Francis  Joseph  wrote 
to  his  friend.  Albert  of  Saxony,  "Beust  is  already  a  thorough  Austrian!  He 
is  developing  commendable  activity  and  cnergy  while  at  the  same  time  pre- 
serving  his  sense  of  humor;  we  work  together  excellently."  The  emperor 
openly  manifested  his  confidence  in  Beust  (and  his  approval  of  the  Aus 
gleich)  by  appointing  him  chancellor  of  the  empire,  an  honor  conferred 
only  twice  before  in  Austrian  history. 

Upon  the  convocation  of  parliament,  May  22,  1867,  Beust  announced  that 
a  responsible  ministry  would  be  chosen  from  the  parliamentary  majority, 
the  German  constitutional  or  liberal  party.  But  that  group  refuscd  to  take 
over  the  management  of  the  government  until  the  settlement  with  Hungary 
had  been  completed.  Beust  was  therefore  obliged  to  organi2x  a  temporary 
ministry  composed  of  men  of  small  political  influence.  PoHsh  spokesmcn 
muddied  the  waters  by  insisting  that  Galicia  should  be  given  special  autono- 
mous  rights,  and  Beust,  in  order  to  sccure  Polish  parliamentary  support, 
promised  substantial  concessions. 

After  receiving  bills  to  regulate  anew  the  relations  between  State  and 
church  and  to  establish  the  principle  of  ministerial  responsibility,  parliament 
adjourned  to  permit  representatives  of  Austria  and  Hungary  to  iron  out 
the  dctails  of  Joint  finance.  After  lengthy  discussions  and  pressure  from  the 
monarch  it  was  decided  that  Hungary  should  bear  30  per  cent  of  the  com- 
mon cxpenses,  or  approximately  the  proportion  that  had  been  paid  annually 
by  die  Hungarian  counties  during  the  preceding  decade.  Without  recogniz- 
ing  that  both  halves  of  the  Monarchy  were  responsible  for  existing  debts, 
Hungary  promised  to  make  a  relativcly  small  payment  each  year  to  meet 
these  obligations.  With  the  making  of  the  financial  accord,  the  settlement 
with  Hungary,  subject  to  approval  by  the  Austrian  parliament,  was  finished. 

No  sooner  had  the  Austrian  parliament  reassembled  than  the  twenty- 


50 


Tllli    HAPbliURG    MüNAKC:ilY 


GliKMAN     LlßliKAL    PKLUOM  1  iN  A  iN  Cl.     ii.'     AI    .^IKIA 


n 


II 


In  the  course  of  the  negotiation  of  the  Settlement  of  1867  Beiist  is  re- 
ported  to  have  observed  to  Andrassy,  "You  look  after  your  barbarians  aiul 
we  will  look  after  ours."  Piece  by  piece  concessions  were  extended  to  the 
Polish  *'barbarians"  which  assured  thcir  loyalty  to  the  new  Austrian  ordcr, 
but  other  national  groups  of  Aiistria,  notably  the  Czechs,  the  Yugoslavs,  and 
the  Italians,  were  unappeased,  and  their  leaders  were  inclined  to  believe  ihat 
stubbornness  might  be  rewarded  witli  concessions  as  in  the  case  of  the  Mag- 
yars.  Guarantees  of  national  equality  that  had  been  inscribed  in  the  funda- 
mental law  of  the  State  failed  to  satisfy,  if  for  no  other  reason,  because  cxpe- 
rience  had  shown  the  worthlessness  of  such  pledges.  What  the  minority 
leaders  in  general  desired  was  extensive  and  genuine  provincial  autonomy. 
"Nowadays,"  a  minister  was  heard  to  remark,  "every  nationality,  even 
every  little  bit  of  a  nationality,  wants  an  Ausgleich" 

It  was  argued  by  spokesmen  of  the  Czechs  that  the  lands  of  the  crown 
of  St.  Wenceslaus,  meaning  the  provinces  of  Bohemia,  Moravia,  and  Silesia, 
possessed  comparable  rights  with  the  lands  of  the  crown  of  St.  Stephen  and 
should,  therefore,  be  given  a  constitutional  Status  analogous  to  that  of  Hun- 
gary.  The  most  outspoken  advocate  of  Czech  autonomy  was  Dr.  Francis  L. 
Rieger,  a  miller's  son,  who  had  emerged  as  a  public  figure  during  the  rcvo- 
lutionary  storm  of  1848,  and  who  was  the  son-in-law  of  Palacky,  the  eloquent 
Czech  patriotic  historian. 

In  some  respects  Rieger  resemblcd  the  Magyar  Deak,  for  he  was  a  law'yer 
well  versed  in  constitutional  history  and  tenacious  of  bis  countrymen*s  inter- 
ests,  but  his  case  for  home  rule  restcd  on  less  substantial  ground  than  the 
Magyar*s.  Though  Magyar  rights  had  often  been  violated,  they  neveriheless 
remained  in  being  to  1849,  while  Bohemian  rights  had  not  been  operative 
since  the  early  seventeenth  Century.  In  the  diet  at  Prague,  Rieger  inveighed 
in  shrill  tones  against  the  dualistic  settlement  and  confidently  predicted  the 
disruption  of  the  Monarchy  unless  it  was  remodeled.  Holding  that  the  new 
Austrian  regime  lacked  constitutional  validity,  he  and  his  fellows  declincd 
to  attend  the  sessions  of  the  reichsrat. 

Aggrieved  Czech  patriots  directcd  their  gaze  toward  Russia,  the  big 
benevolent  brother  of  Slavdom.  In  May  of  1867,  a  group  of  Czech  politicians 
and  intellectuals  made  a  pilgrimage  to  Russia,  ostensibly  to  participate  in  a 
Slav  ethnographic  Convention;  the  journey  roused  a  storm  of  protest  in  the 
Austro-Gcrman  prcss  and  governing  circlcs,  though  Bcust  appears  not  to 
have  been  uneasy.  It  also  causcd  (lutterings  among  the  Polish  feudalists 
of  Galicia,  who  thoroughly  detested  Russia. 

At  Moscow  the  Pan-Slav  congress  published  an  appeal  to  all  Austrian 
Slavs  to  combine  so  as  to  secure  a  federal  pattern  of  government.  At  public 


H 


1 


banquets  Czech  delegates  declaimed  against  the  overbearing  tyranny  of  the 
Viennese  administration,  and  Rieger  tried  to  persuade  Tsar  Alexander  II 
that  Russia  could  furnish  the  moral  support,  if  she  would,  that  would  enable 
Slav  minorities  everywhere  to  gain  their  legitimate  rights.  The  Czechs  pro- 
posed  the  cstabUshment  of  a  permanent  Slav  institute  and  biennial  cuhural 
Conferences  of  Slavs,  but  without  success.  They  left  Moscow  with  the  unfor- 
gettable  words  of  one  of  the  enthusiastic  Russian  promoters  of  the  gathering 
ringing  in  their  ears,  "The  Slav  question  has  been  transferred  now  from 
books  and  private  studies  to  the  street,  to  public  Squares,  to  churches,  and 

to  theaters.'* 

Poles  were  conspicuously  absent  from  the  Moscow  Conference,  and  at  the 
close  of  the  gathering  Rieger  remonstrated  with  the  Russians  for  the  abusive 
treatment  of  the  Polish  minority  in  the  tsardom.  For  that  he  was  sternly 
rebuked,  for  the  Russians  would  not  countenance  outside  interference  in 
domestic  affairs.  Pan-Slavism  at  the  time  was  too  closely  identified  with 
Orthodox  Christianity  to  appeal  warmly  to  the  Roman  Catholic  Slavs  of 
Austria,  and  linguistic  disparities  presented  another  big  barrier  to  Slav  Co- 
operation. Some  Czechs,  it  is  true,  entered  the  Orthodox  fold  in  the  illusory 
belief  that  Russia  would  act  energetically  on  behalf  of  adherents  of  the 
national  reÜgion.  Actually,  the  tsarist  government  was  unprepared  to  inter- 
cede  in  Vienna  even  to  secure  autonomy  for  Bohemia. 

In  June  1868,  when  Francis  Joseph  appeared  in  Prague  to  dedicate  a 
bridge,  the  Czech  population  manifested  its  ill-will  by  boycotting  the  city. 
And  next  month,  the  birth  anniversary  of  John  Huss  afforded  an  occasion 
for  fervent  national  demonstrations.  Viennese  ministers  now  entered  into 
conversations  with  the  Czechs  for  reconciliation,  the  first  of  a  long  series  of 
discussions,  but  no  common  ground  of  accommodation  could  be  discovered. 

So  that  there  might  be  no  doubt  of  what  the  Czechs  claimed,  their  deputies 
in  the  Bohemian  diet  published  in  September  of  1868  a  detailed  Declaration 
of  Rights  and  Expectations,  which  served  until  the  dissolution  of  the  Mon- 
archy as  the  most  authoritativc  exposition  of  the  Czech  position  on  consti- 
tutional questions.  On  the  basis  of  rather  flimsy  historical  precedents,  the 
Czechs  insisted  that  the  organic  unity  of  the  lands  of  the  "Bohemian  Crown" 
should  be  recognized,  that  Francis  Joseph  should  take  the  royal  oath  and 
be  crowned  in  Prague,  and  that  inequitable  electoral  laws,  which  discrimi- 
nated  against  the  Czechs,  should  be  democratized.  Only  the  diet  in  Prague, 
it  was  asserted,  was  competent  to  modify  the  historical  relationship  of 
Bohemia  to  the  sovereign;  as  matters  stood,  no  legislation  enacted  in  the 
Vienna  reichsrat  could  lawfuUy  apply  to  Bohemia.  Until  the  Czech  claims 
were  met,  Czech  representatives  would  hold  aloof  from  the  Austrian  parlia- 
ment;  and  Czech  deputies  in  the  diet  of  Moravia  adopted  a  declaration  of 
similar  tenor. 


52 


THE    HAPSBURG    MONARCHY 


GERMAN    LIBERAL    PREDOMINANCE    IN    AUSTRIA 


55 


Czcch  hostility  to  the  dualistic  regime  was  by  no  means  confined  to  public 
men.  Czech  military  conscripts,  for  example,  in  one  district  balked  at  taking 
the  oath  of  allegiance  to  the  crown,  declaring,  "We  are  ready  to  serve  our 
homes,  the  lands  of  the  Czechs,  and  for  the  holy  crown  of  Wenceslaus  .  .  . 
We  will  not,  however,  stir  in  favor  of  German  rule  in  Bohemia,  or  for  the 
Magyars."   Anti-Hapsburg   street    outbursts    attained    such    dimensions    in 
Prague  that  the  city  was  placed  under  a  State  of  siege  which   lasted  six 
months.  Czech  newspapers  were  confiscated  and  suppressed,  and  police  were 
freely  employed  against  the  'Tenians  of  Austria,"  as  some  Austro-Germans 
labeled  the  Czech  dissidents.  Relying  on  the  Cooperation  of  the  German 
Clement,  the  Austrian  government  tried  to  rule  Bohemia  by  repression,  as 
it  had  often  done  before  and  as  it  would  frequently  do  in  the  future— a 
tyranny  tempered  by  extremely  slender  concessions  such  as  the  founding  of 
a  technical  high  school  for  Czech  youths. 

Under  the  circumstances,  Czech  politicians  looked  to  France  for  help  at 
the  very  moment  that  the  cabinet  of  Vienna  was  engaged  in  conversations 
with  Napoleon  III  for  a  military  alliance.  Rieger  on  a  visit  to  Paris  conferred 
with  Napoleon  III,  then  esteemed  as  the  arbiter  of  Europe  and  known  to  be 
devoted  to  the  principle  of  nationality,  and  besought  him  to  exert  pressure 
in  Vienna  on  behalf  of  the  Czech  pretensions.  But  Napoleon  III,  already 
sufficiently  perplexed  by  dangerous  antagonism  with  Prussia,  was  no  more 
responsive  to  Czech  entreaties  than  the  Russian  tsar  had  been. 

Certain  extremist  Czechs  thought  to  purchase  the  goodwill  of  Napoleon 
with  tangible  military  values.  "Once  independent,"  read  a  secret  memoran- 
dum  dispatched  to  the  French  emperor,  "Bohemia  will  keep  northern  and 
Southern  Germany  apart  so  that  a  French  army  may  be  more  rapidly  thrown 
into  Bohemia  than  a  Prussian  army  could  be  sent  to  the  Upper  Rhine 
province  .  .  .  The  Bohemian  nation  .  .  .  can  in  a  very  short  time  effect  a 
rapid  diversion  in  favor  of  France  .  .  .  exasperated  national  sentiment  if 
translated  into  action  during  a  war  could  cause  the  [Hapsburg]  monarchy 

to  fall  to  pieces." 

All  hope  of  French  intervention,  which  was  never  very  real,  disappeared 
with  the  swift  defeat  of  the  Napoleonic  armies  by  Prussia  in  1870.  After 
that,  Czech  leaders  looked  more  favorably  upon  the  idea  of  a  compromise 
with  the  Hapsburg  crown. 

III 

The  Austrian  cabinet  allowed  special,  though  modest,  linguistic  and 
administrative  privileges  to  the  Poles,  who  lorded  it  over  the  province  of 
Galicia,  with  its  large  and  backward  Ruthenian  or  Ukrainian  population.  In 
imitation  of  the  Czechs,  Polish  politicians  drafted  in  1868  a  Galician  Reso- 
lution   which  called  for  far-reaching  provincial  self-government  and  per- 


mitted  only  limited  participation  by  Galicia  in  imperial  affairs.  If  Vienna 
had  accepted  the  Resolution,  the  Status  of  Galicia  in  the  realm  would  have 
been  quite  similar  to  Hungary's  and  the  province  might  well  have  become 
a  rallying  ground  for  independence-mindcd  Poles  of  Prussia  and  Russia. 
As  a  means  of  showing  his  disapproval  of  the  federalist  ferment  among  the 
Poles,  and  to  allay  apprehensions  that  had  bccn  roused  in  Prussia  and  Russia, 
Francis  Joseph  ostentatiously  canceled  a  trip  that  he  had  planned  to  Galicia. 
Though  unwilling  to  acquiesce  in  the  Resolution,  the  Austrian  authorities 
quite  readily  extended  privileges  to  the  Poles  which  gave  Galicia  a  consid- 
erable  dcgree  of  self-government  and  facilitated  the  Polonization   of  the 
Ruthenian  minority.  Polish  was  recognized  as  the  language  of  public  admin- 
istration,  the  law  courts  included,  and  of  secondary  schools,  except  that 
religious  instruction  might  be  oflered  in  the  Ruthenian  tongue.  In  1871  a 
special  Austrian   ministry   for  Galician  alTairs   was   created  and  financial 
arrangements  were  adjusted  along  lines  dcsired  by  Polish  politicians.  By  thesc 
concessions  the  Vienna  regime  hclpcd  to  cement  the  dcvotion  of  Polish 
leaders  to  the  crown  and  assured  the  ministry  of  the  votes  of  Polish  depu- 
ties  in  the  imperial  parliament. 

Whereas  Poles  in  Russia  and  Prussia  were  looked  upon  and  treated  as 
inferiors,  in  Galicia  they  reigned  supremc  and  they  were  in  the  main  well 
aware  of  their  comparatively  favorcd  Status.  If  the  Hapsburg  realm  should 
disintcgrate,  many  Austrian  Poles  reasoncd,  Galicia  would  pass  under  the 
harsh  sceptcr  of  the  tsar  or  of  Prussia  and  the  last  State  would  be  infinitely 
Icss  attractive  than  the  first.  Wherefore,  such  a  respected  Polish  grandee  as 
Prince  Czartoryski  asserted  that  the  first  duty  of  Galician  Poles  was  to 
uphold  and  dcfcnd  the  Hapsburg  Monarchy  as  a  haven  of  liberty  between 
Muscovite  barbarism  and  Prussian  militarism;  and  he  echoed  the  thought 
of  many  of  his  countrymen. 

Over  the  heads  of  the  Polish  landed  aristocracy  the  Vienna  government 
held  a  heavy  club,  the  threat  of  social  rcvolt,  which  exercised  a  restraining 
influcnce  upon  Separatist  activity.  The  prccedent  of  1846,  when  Hapsburg 
oflicials  incited  rural  laborers  against  Polish  landed  interests,  might  again  be 
invokcd.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  that  rising  marked  a  turning  point  in  the 
attitudc  of  the  Polish  proprietors  toward  Austria,  for  thereafter  they  identified 
thcmselvcs  with  the  government  against  the  soil  workers,  more  particularly 
ihc  Ruthcnians.  By  coöperating  with  the  Vienna  administration  it  was  pos- 
sible  for  the  Poles  to  submerge  the  Ruthcnians,  though  by  no  means  wholly. 


IV 


As  a  scmiindependent  province,  Galicia  attained  a  unique  place  in  the 
cultural  affairs  of  the  entire  Polish  nation.  Refugee  patriots  from  Russian 
and  Prussian  Poland  found  asylum  in  the  congenial  Galician  cities  of  Cracow 


'>'^( 


i  li  L.      i  i  tX  L  j  n  \.    t      i 


iVi  s 


.  t. t.in 


and  Laubcg,  whose  universities  fosicrcd  a  distinctly  Polish  intellectual  lifc. 
Pohsh  magnate  families  patronized  learning  and  the  arts,  and  occasionally 
a  Pohsh  nobleman  comb.ned  an  active  carecr  in  poHtics  with  a  hvely  intcrcst 
m  the  th.ngs  of  the  mind  and  spirit.  Such  a  one  was  Count  Leon  PiniAski. 
who,  after  study.ng  m  Polish  and  German  universities.  lectured  on  Roman 
law  m  the  Un.vcrs.ty  of  Lemberg.  At  his  homc  this  wcalthy  landowner  com- 
posed  mus.c  and  wrotc  on  art  and  on  Marcus  Aurelius.  Dante,  and  Shake- 
speare;  for  a  decade  Pinii^ski  sat  in  the  Vienna  reichsrat  and  for  five  vcars 
he  served  as  viceroy  of  Galicia. 

But  achievements  in  scholarship,  in  letters,  and  in  the  arts  were  much 
more  largely  the  work  of  the  Polish  middle  class  than  of  the  aristocracy 
It  was  at  Cracow,  redolent  of  memories  of  medieval  Poland,  of  which  it  was 
the  cap.tal,  and  the  home  of  Poland's  oldest  university,  that  Polish  national 
culture  was  most  assiduously  and  most  fruitfully  cultivated.  The  ancient 
Jagellonian  University,  dating  from  1363,  to  which  was  attached  the  Acadcmy 
ot  Arts  and  Sciences,  became  the  intellectual  capital  of  the  Polish  nationality 
after  the  restoration  of  Polish  as  ti,e  language  of  Instruction  in   .861.   It 
quickly  enroUed  more  than  a  thoiisand  students  and  by  19c«  therc  were 
over  a  hundred  professors.  In  the  classrooms  of  the  University  men  and 
women  were  trained  who,  upon  the  rebirth  of  Poland  in  1918.  organizcd 
the  educational  system  of  the  country  at  all  levels,  and  provided  leadershin 
in  every  branch  of  the  public  Service.  There,  in  the  Austrian  era,  sccrct 
pohtical  societies  were  founded  by  students  and  their  eiders  to  promotc  the 
cause  of  Pohsh  national  resurrectioii. 

Freedom  of  inquiry  was  permitted.  Natural  science  flourished  and  Cracow 
University  gained  international  renown  through  a  school  of  historians  who 
foreswore  romanticized  idealism,  stu.lied  and  published  documentary  mute- 
nals  on  medieval  and  early  modern  Poland,  and  freshly  cvaluated  the  coun- 
try spast.  Where  scholarship  demanded  it,  the  Cracow  school,- which  was 
presided  over  by  Michael  Bobrzy.iski,  somctime  Galician  gove'rnor,  had  no 
quaims  about  assigning  the  dismembcrment  of  Poland  to  the  grievous  in- 
competence  and  blindness  of  the  Polish  nobility. 

Another  school  of  history  flourished  at  Lemberg  University.  with  Professor 
Xavier  Liske,  a  scholar  of  vast  eruclition,  in  charge.  In  his  seminar  many 
of  the  leading  Pohsh  historians  of  .he  next  generation  received  their  pro- 
fessional tra.ning.  His  brilliant  colleague,  Szymon  Askenazy,  who  was  edu- 
cated  in  the  Russian  University  of  Warsaw,  concerned  himself  with  polemical 
rcsearches  in  modern  history,  especially  the  Napoleonic  period  and  diplo- 
macy  Historians  at  Lemberg  extolled  the  constructive  achievements  of 
Poland  in  the  past  and,  in  contrast  to  their  fellows  at  Cracow,  attributed 
Chief  responsibility  for  Poland's  downfall  in  the  eighteenth  Century  to  the 
rapacity  of  predatory  ncighbors.  Intellectual  warfare  between  the  Cricow 


OLKM/VN     J_  i  1>  ».  u  .-i  1,     1  «viiivv  ni  1  ,,.»,(  V.  ü     iu      .vUSiuJ.-i 


iX 


"realists"  and  the  Lemberg  "romantics"  enlivened  Polish  historical  learning, 
infused  it  with  a  dynamic  character,  and  brought  to  Hght  a  wealth  of  new 
cvidence  on  the  antecedents  of  Poland's  spoliation.  But  after  about  1900  the 
romanticizing  intcrpreters  were  reluctantly  obHged  to  acknowledge  the 
victory  of  the  scholars  in  Cracow. 

Outstanding  among  PoHsh  men  of  letters  residing  in  Cracow  was  Stanis- 
laus  Przybyszewski,  who  was  born  in  Russia  and  studied  in  Germany  before 
settling  down  in  Galicia.  Around  him  he  gathered  a  Company  of  young 
literary  rebels  who  lived  and  wrote  in  an  unorthodox,  "realistic"  fashion. 
In  his  own  novels  and  dramas,  Przybyszewski  treated  sexual  themes  in  un- 
conventional  ways  and  preached  that  every  individual  was  an  absolute  law 
unto  himself.  His  The  Children  of  Satan  and  Homo  Sapiens  are  prized  as 
classics  of  modern  Polish  prose,  but  their  popularity  was  short-lived. 

Przybyszcwski*s  foremost  disciple,  Stanislaus  Wyspianski,  has  been  doubly 
acclaimed  as  a  prophet  of  Poland's  political  resurrection  and  the  foremost 
literary  genius  of  Polish  Galicia.  His  famc  rests  chiefly  on  his  realistic  and 
dramatic  masterpiece,  The  Wedding,  which  was  a  valuable  antidote  to  much 
of  the  fanciful  romanticism  of  other  literary  advocates  of  Polish  resurrection.* 
The  Wedding  rccoums  the  marriage  of  a  Polish  townsman,  who  was  a  poet, 
and  a  simple  peasant  maid,  with  guests  from  city  and  countryside  in  attend- 
ance  at  the  ceremony.  The  dialogue  deals  in  turn  with  a  highly  imaginative 
Interpretation  of  Polish  history,  the  present  degradation  of  the  nation,  and  the 
prospects  for  the  future.  Poles  of  all  ranks  should  unite  to  achieve  national 
freedom,  the  aulhor  pleads,  but,  in  the  pessimistic  conclusion,  the  townsfolk, 
who  ought  to  serve  as  leaders  for  the  peasantry,  are  shown  to  be  wanting  in 
national  ardor  and  conviction. 

Wyspianski's  Deliverance  graphically  pictured  the  faults  and  frailties  of 
the  Poles  and  summoned  readers  to  assist  in  the  rebirth  of  an  independent 
Poland;  more  a  patriotic  manifesto  than  a  piece  of  great  literature,  Deliver- 
ance exerted  a  strong  influence  upon  a  whole  generation  of  Polish  readers. 
In  two  dramatic  tragedies,  The  Curse  and  The  Judges,  Wyspianski  described 
the  ways  of  the  peasants  and  their  dealings  with  village  priest  and  Jewish 
shopkeeper;  rustic  ignorance  and  superstition  and  the  penalties  they  brought 
were  vividly  depicted.  Wyspianski's  writings  had  abundant  recognition 
while  the  author  lived  and  his  death  was  mourned  by  the  whole  Polish 
nation  at  a  huge  funeral  in  Cracow. 

The  most  eminent  poet  of  Galicia  was  John  Kasprowicz.  Born  into  a 
peasant  houschold  in  Prussian  Poland,  Kasprowicz  moved  to  Lemberg  and 
became  professor  of  comparative  literature  in  the  university  there.  In  that 
capacity  he  translated  Greek,  English,  and  German  poctry  into  Polish,  but 
his  real  renown  was  based  upon  original  compositions  which  recounted  the 
manners  and  the  grinding  poverty  of  the  peasantry;  yet  in  those  folk  he 


56 


THE    HAPSBURG    MONARCHY 


discerned  the  force  that  would  one  day  Hberate  the  Poles,  both  socially  and 
politically.  The  piain  teachings  of  Jesus  in  the  Gospels  appealed  powerfully 
to  Kasprowicz,  and  in  The  Christ  he  drew  vivid  contrasts  bctween  thosc 
teachings  and  the  practices  of  historical  and  contemporary  Christianity.  In 
the  latter  part  of  his  life  Kasprowicz  drifted  into  philosophical  mysticism, 
having  grown  skeptical  about  the  peasantry,  once  his  passion.  His  writings 
gave  inspiration  to  the  oncoming  generation  of  Polish  poets. 

Adam  Asnyk,  who  chose  Cracow  as  his  home  after  taking  part  in  an 
insurrection  against  Russia  in  1863,  secured  recognition  as  the  outstanding 
Polish  lyricist  of  his  time,  and  was  distinguished  as  a  playwright  as  well. 
His  writings  were  animated  by  profound  faith  in  the  common  man  and 
deep  love  of  nature.  Mr.  Baker  in  Brazil,  a  populär  epic  relating  the  harsh 
cxperiences  of  Polish  emigrants  to  the  New  World,  brought  fame  to  Marie 
Konopnicka,  and  another  of  her  poems,  Rota  (The  Oath),  in  which  she  in- 
veighed  heatedly  against  German  oppression  of  the  Poles,  was  adopted  as 
a  national  song. 

Among  the  visual  arts,  Poles  of  Galicia  excelled  only  in  painting.  The 
academy  at  Cracow  was  the  artistic  citadel  and  Jan  Matejko,  its  director  for 
many  years,  was  the  greatest  creative  genius.**  His  paintings,  which  were 
executed  on  a  lavish  scale,  recalled  romantic  episodes  from  Poland's  past 
and  were  calculated  to  evoke  ardent  national  emotions.  The  finest  of  them 
were  "The  Battle  of  Grünwald,*'  "Sobieski  at  Vienna,"  presented  by  the  artist 
to  Pope  Leo  XIII,  and  "Reytan  Protesting  against  the  First  Partition  of 
Poland."  For  the  great  hall  of  Cracow  University  Matejko  painted  a  famous 
picture  of  the  young  Copernicus,  greatest  of  the  graduates  of  the  Institution. 
The  scientist  is  depicted  on  a  roof  from  which  he  studies  the  movements  of 
the  heavenly  bodies;  his  face  lights  up  with  radiant  joy  as  the  faint  begin- 
nings  of  the  great  heliocentric  truth  associated  with  his  name  dawn  upon 
him. 

Other  Galician  artists  employed  their  brushes  in  reviving  historical  memo- 
ries,  expressing  the  mute  resignation  of  the  Poles  to  their  political  fate,  or 
hinting  at  happier  days  yet  to  come.  Wyspianski,  painter  as  well  as  man  of 
letters,  decorated  stained-glass  Windows  in  Cracow's  churches  with  dramatic 
representations  of  Polish  kings,  heroes,  and  saints. 

With  its  splendid  medieval  edifices— the  Gothic  cathedral  of  St.  Stanislaus, 
the  veritable  Westminster  Abbey  of  the  nation,  in  which  reposed  the  mortal 
remains  of  Poland's  illustrious  kings,  warriors,  and  authors;  the  royal  Castle 
close  by,  high  above  the  Vistula,  in  which  Polish  sovereigns  resided  until  the 
seventeenth  Century;  the  Gothic  edifice  of  the  cid  University,  in  whosc 
charming  Venetian  courtyard  was  erected  a  graceful  statue  of  Copernicus; 
the  quaint,  gaunt  remnants  of  the  city's  medieval  ramparts— with  all  these 
architectural  treasures,  harking  back  to  the  greater  glories  of  Poland,  Cracow 


gilRman  liberal  predominance  in  austria 


57 


eclipscd  other  Polish  communities  in  interest  and  as  a  source  of  patriotic 
inspiration. 

Owing  to  its  location  on  the  Vistula  and  at  a  commercial  crossroads, 
Cracow  prospcred  economically;  trade  and  industry  expanded  and  by  1914 
the  population  was  well  beyond  the  100,000  mark.  The  novelist  Joseph 
Conrad,  who  visited  Cracow  in  1914  aflcr  an  absence  of  forty  years,  found 
an  alert  and  busy  city  instead  of  the  drab  provincial  town  he  had  known 
as  a  lad.  Althoiigh  the  Community  was  heavily  Polish  in  composition,  a  large 
Jcwish  colony  dwelt  amidst  poverty  and  squalor  in  the  Casimirski  district, 
set  apart  from  Cracow  proper. 

Lemberg  (Lvov),  the  sprawling  Galician  capital,  at  the  eastern  end  of 
the  province,  contained  a  polyglot  population,  Polish  mainly,  but  with  a 
jargc  admixturc  of  Jews,  Ruthenians,  and  Germans.  With  Ruthenian  patriots 
Poles  battled  incessantly  to  preserve  the  dominantly  Polish  character  of  the 
city.  The  University  in  particular,  in  which  after  1871  Polish  was  the  lan- 
guage  of  instruction,  was  the  scene  of  constant  strife,  not  always  verbal, 
betwcen  partisans  of  the  rival  nationalities.  As  the  marketing  point  for  Gali- 
cian oil,  whcat,  timber,  and  sugar  bccts,  Lemberg  flourished  commercially, 
and  as  a  major  center  of  Communications  where  four  railways  converged, 
the  city  developed  into  the  third  largest  Community  of  the  Austrian  empire. 


Like  the  Czechs,  many  Italian  subjccts  resented  the  Austrian  regime 
established  in  1867,  and  Italian-spcaking  deputies  elected  to  the  Vienna 
parliament  from  Trieste  refused  to  attend  sessions  until  1877.  Italians  in 
the  Southern  part  of  the  Tyrol  agitatcd  in  the  local  diet,  in  the  imperial 
Icgislature,  and  through  petitions  to  Francis  Joseph  from  scores  of  towns, 
for  a  separate  autonomous  governmcnt.  Patriotic  societies  were  organized  to 
carry  on  propaganda  favorable  to  the  union  of  Italian-populated  areas  with 
the  kingdom  of  Italy.  The  Italian  national  committee  for  Trentino  thanked 
the  city  of  Bassano  for  selecting  Count  Manci,  a  Tyrolese  Italian  firebrand, 
as  its  deputy  in  the  parliament  of  Italy.  When  the  government  of  Italy 
announced  that  in  the  future  emigrants  from  "the  provinces  not  yet  an- 
ncxed"  would  bc  denied  Italian  citizenship,  a  few  of  the  Italianissimi  moved 
across  the  border  into  Italy. 

The  reaction  among  Austrian  Yugoslavs  to  the  arrangements  of  1867 
followed  no  clear-cut  pattern.  Certain  Slovenes,  for  instance,  asked  for  a 
Slovene  State  in  the  Monarchy  but  their  agitation  was  handicapped  by  the 
fact  that  Slovenes  were  dispersed  in  six  provinces.  Eventually  they  chose 
to  concentrate  on  securing  local  concessions,  and  small  grants  were  actually 
madc  to  them,  such  as  lecture  courses  in  Slovene  at  Graz  University.  Among 
the  C'roats  who  were  Austrian  subjccts,  tlicre  was  no  Uttle  sentiment  in  favor 


57 


Ui  an  auionomous  Croaiiaii  slatc,  whicli  wuuld  ineludc  ihc  Slovciic-iniiabiicd 
areas  and  Dalmatia,  as  well  as  Croatia  proper. 

The  dict  of  Dalmatia  was  the  theater  of  fierce  national  squabbles  as  thc 
Italian  Slav-hating  minority  Struggled  with  Croats  and  Serbs.  An  insurrec- 
tion  against  Hapsburg  lordship  broke  loose  in  1869  in  southern  Dalmatia,  in 
the  Cattaro  district,  being  precipitated  by  an  imperial  order  requiring  young 
men  to  present  themselves  for  military  service  from  which  hitherto  they  had 
been  exempt.  With  some  help  from  their  free  Montenegrin  brothers,  the 
Bocchesi  heroically  resisted  imperial  troops  and,  indeed,  only  laid  down  their 
arms  when  given  assurances  that  conscription  would  not  be  applied  and  that 
the  insurgents  would  be  amnestied. 

Dissatisfaction  with  the  new  governmental  scheme  inspired  one  clarion 
call  from  a  German  quarter  for  the  reordering  of  the  Austrian  Constitution 
along  fcderal  lines.  A  respected  and  liberal  publicist,  Adolph  von  Fischhof, 
who  had  fought  in  the  Vienna  revolution  of  1848,  published  Oesterreich  und 
die  Bürgschaften  seines  Bestandes  (1869),  in  which  he  pleaded  with  Austro- 
German  Liberais  to  slough  ofl  their  centralistic  sympathies.  As  an  empire  of 
divergent  national  groups,  Austria,  he  urged,  should  be  remodeled  on  a 
federal  basis,  imitative  either  of  Switzerland  or  of  the  United  States,  and 
allowing  a  large  measure  of  home  rule  to  the  several  nationalities.  Federalism, 
Fischhof  persuasivcly  argued,  was  absolutely  necessary  to  ensurc  the  preser- 
vation  of  the  realm.  "Only  centralism  makes  the  peoples  centrifugal;  if 
Austria  were  decentralized  they  would  be  centripetal,"  he  wrote.  While  thc 
book  crcated  a  stir  in  Austrian  political  circles  and  inspired  other  plans  for 
the  reOrganization  of  the  realm,  it  failed  lo  capture  the  support  of  the  prc- 
dominant  German  Liberais;  stanch  Bohcmian  Germans  blasted  thc  autho;' 
as  doctrinairc  and  rcactionary.  So  far  as  the  bulk  of  the  articulate  Austro- 
Germans  were  concerned,  Fischhof's  was  a  voice  crying  in  the  wilderness, 
though  his  central  idea  of  federalism  was  presently  to  find  a  place  in  prac- 
tical  politics." 

VI 

Short-lived  Austrian  cabinets  grappled  inefTectively  with  the  puzzling 
task  of  appeasing  the  dissident  nationalities.  No  formula  could  be  discovcred 
that  would  reconcile  Czech  federalistic  aspirations  with  German  notions  of 
centralism  and  Magyar  aversion  to  drastic  constitutional  change.  Debates  in 
parliament  commonly  degenerated  into  acrid  verbal  warfare,  more  congenial 
to  a  madhouse  than  to  a  responsible  branch  of  government.  Czechs  were 
bluntly  told  that  they  wcrc  "thc  barbarous  vassals  of  Russia,  the  Tyrolcsc 
that  they  arc  the  benighted  and  bigoted  slaves  of  thc  pope,  the  Germans 
that  they  arc  tyrannical,  bloodthirsty  and  irreligious."  ^ 

Upon  the  outbreak  of  thc  Franco-German  war  in  1870  political  interest 


li 


was  icnipoiaiily  divcitcd  10  thc  iiiici national  sccnc.  ror  /^Uiinai»  nuc.niai, 
as  well  as  her  cxternal,  affairs  the  outcome  of  the  struggle  in  the  West  had 
significant  consequences.  Austro-Germans,  or  at  least  thc  bourgeois  clemcnt 
and  the  Alpine  peasantry,  rejoiced  over  thc  military  success  of  Bismarckian 
Germany  and  lauded  thc  proclamation  of  the  HohenzoUern  empire.  Populär 
pro-Gcrman  demonstrations  in  Graz  grew  so  tumultuous  that  policc  inter- 
vencd  and  imposed  a  ban  on  them.  It  was  in  that  intoxicating  hour  that  the 
Pan-Gcrman  movement  in  Austria,  which  died  away  only  with  thc  actual 
Union  of  Austria  with  Germany  in  April  of  1938,  had  its  real  beginnings. 
Not  unprophetically,  Deputy  Rechbauer  exclaimed  in  the  reichsrat  in  June 
of  1871,  "Our  fathers  were  Germans,  and  if  fate  should  destroy  Austria,  we 
would  again  be  Germans." 

In  markcd  contrast  to  the  Austro-Germans,  wartime  sympathies  among 
the  Slavs  were  decidedly  pro-French,  and  Magyars  were  rather  French  in 
their  outlook,  though  the  Hungarian  ministry  itself  was  stanchly  Ger- 
manophilc. 

Along  with  many  of  his  subjects,  Francis  Joseph  wondered  whether 
Bismarck,  having  acquired  Alsace-Lorraine  by  the  victory  over  France,  would 
Stretch  out  his  band  to  all  lands  whcre  German  was  spoken.  Pan-Gcrman 
eflfervescence  cut  the  monarch  to  the  quick,  and  that,  together  with  dread  of 
Bismarck*s  covetousness,  induced  the  ruler  to  steer  a  new  tack  on  the  stormy 
Austrian  domestic  sea.  Quietly  he  selected  a  ministry  that  had  Slavophile 
leanings,  detested  Austro-German  libcralism,  and  proposed  to  placatc  dis- 
satisfied  Slav  nationalities  by  reconstructing  thc  imperial  edificc  on  a  federal 

pattern. 

Thc  new  premier  was  Count  Charles  Hohenwart,  a  cautious  conservative 
and  devout  Clcrical,  who  held  that  conciliation  of  the  Slavs  was  indispensable 
for  the  conduct  of  State  business  and  to  ensurc  thc  future  of  thc  monarchy 
as  a  great  power.  His  minister  of  commerce,  A.  E.  F.  Schäffle,  an  cconomist 
who  had  recently  been  invited  to  the  University  of  Vienna  from  Tübingen, 
was  the  dominant  personality  in  the  cabinet.  Fiercely  critical  of  Bismarck 
and  his  ways,  advocatc  of  varied  socializing  reforms  and  universal  suffragc, 
and  a  firm  believer  in  federalism  for  Austria,  Schäffle  seemed  to  be  the  man 
of  the  hour.  Two  conservative  Czechs  and  a  Pole,  the  last  as  special  minister 
for  Galicia,  were  given  places  in  the  Hohenwart  ministry. 

From  the  outset,  the  German  Libcrals  and  their  press,  except  for  an 
unregencrate  conservative  bloc,  savagely  assailed  thc  Hohenwart  ministry, 
whose  appointment,  it  was  feit,  indicated  that  Francis  Joseph  had  taken  thc 
initiative  in  public  business  out  of  thc  hands  of  the  parliament.  Fcars  were 
openly  expressed  lest  this  Slavophile  cabinet  should  sacrifice  thc  Germans 
in  Bohemia  to  the  Czechs,  even  as  the  Ruthenians  in  Galicia  were  being 
handcd  over  to  the  mercies  of  thc  Polish  governing  castc.  More  than  onc 


5? 


100 


THE    HAPSBURG    MONARCHY 


THE    GREAT    RENUNCIATION 


101 


pourings  of  General  Ratislav  Fadeyev,  whose  Reflections  on  the  Eastcrn 
Qucstion  appeared  in  1869.  Short,  smoothly  written,  translated  into  many 
tongues,  this  work  attained  a  unique  position  in  the  Pan-Slavist  literature 
of  the  time.  Fadeyev  harped  upon  the  theme  that  the  Solution  o£  the  Near 
Eastcrn  question,  Russia*s  largest  problem,  required  the  annihilation  of  Aus- 
tria,  the  holder  of  the  key  to  the  Turkish  door.  Austria  was  a  greater  obstacle 
to  the  Russian  mission  than  Britain  or  France,  who  could  only  bar  the 
way  to  Constantinople  by  seapower.  Therefore,  Austrian  Slavs  and  Ruma- 
nians  should  be  incited  to  rebel  with  promises  of  freedom;  Polish  Galicia 
should  first  of  all  be  wrested  from  Austria,  assurances  having  been  given 
the  Poles  that  they  would  be  allotted  their  rightful  place  in  a  general  Slav 
Community  under  the  aegis  of  Russia.  The  liberation  of  the  Hapsburg  Czechs 
and  Croats  came,  of  course,  within  the  purview  of  this  Pan-Slav  evangelist.® 
Sentiments  of  a  similar  order  were  propagated  by  the  capable  and  calculating 
General  Nicholas  Ignatyev,  ambassador  of  the  tsar  at  Constantinople  from 
1864  to  1877.  For  him  as  for  Fadeyev,  Pan-Slavism  meant  an  aggressively 
chauvinistic  policy  pointed  against  the  Danube  Monarchy  and  Turkey  alike. 

It  seems  perfectly  clear  that  the  real  directors  of  Russian  diplomacy,  Alex- 
ander II  and  bis  foreign  secretary,  Gorchakov,  were  but  little  affected  by  the 
fervent  Pan-Slav  ideology,  but  in  foreign  chancelleries,  particularly  in  Vi- 
enna,  the  propaganda  caused  considerable  vexation  and  apprehension.  Upon 
Serbs,  including  those  who  were  Hungarian  subjects,  Fadeyev's  teaching 
made  a  decided  impression,  and  the  political  restlessness  of  the  Czechs  was 
traceable  in  some  measure  to  Pan-Slav  inspiration;  among  them,  as  in  Galicia, 
Pan-Slav  literature  was  distributed  with  a  generous  band.  All  of  this  could 
not  fail  to  add  fuel  to  the  fires  of  Austrian  distrust,  to  conjure  up  fears  that 
Russia,  in  the  clothing  of  Pan-Slavism,  was  waiting  for  a  favorable  chance 
to  disrupt  the  Monarchy  of  the  Hapsburgs. 

Moving  on  to  the  Balkans,  Austrian  relations  with  Rumania  were  less 
than  happy.  Vienna  had  steadfastly  resisted  the  union  of  Moldavia  and 
Wallachia  to  form  the  kingdom  of  Rumania — a  goal  reached  in  1866 — 
partly  because  it  was  believed  that  such  a  State  would  be  nothing  more  than 
a  Muscovite  outpost  in  the  Balkans,  partly  because  it  would  encourage  sep- 
aratism  among  the  large  Rumanian  population  of  Hungary.  Beyond  that, 
if  Rumania  were  Consolidated,  other  Balkan  peoples  would  be  inspired  to 
strive  for  similar  ends,  which  would  surely  cause  trouble,  possibly  terri- 
torial losses,  for  the  Hapsburg  realm. 

Only  grudgingly  did  Vienna  acquiesce  in  Rumanian  unity,  and  it  op- 
posed  the  selection  of  a  foreign  prince  to  rule  over  the  country.  When  the 
Rumanian  choice  feil  upon  Prince  Charles  of  the  Hohenzollern  family,  he 
thought  it  politic  to  travel  across  Austria  to  bis  new  home  in  the  guise  of  a 
commercial  drummer!  In  collaboration  with  most  of  the  other  great  pow- 


I 


l 


i 


I 


ers,  Austria  put  pressure  on  Rumania  to  force  an  amelioration  in  the  lot 
of  the  Jewish  population,  which  had  been  subjected  to  expulsions  and  other 
forms  of  abuse  and  persecution.  That  intervention,  from  which  Russia  studi- 
ously  kept  aloof,  intensified  Rumanian  resentment  toward  its  great  western 
ncighbor. 

The  main  Rumanian  grievance,  however,  was  the  Magyar  treatment  of 
the  Rumanians  in  Transylvania.  Oncc,  when  it  was  proposed  to  Prince 
Charles  that  a  real  reconciliation  with  the  Hapsburgs  should  be  negotiated, 
he  replied,  "I  can  work  band  in  band  with  Hungary  only  when  Hungary 
has  changed  her  policy  toward  the  Rumanians  in  Transylvania.  I  cannot 
abolish  the  natural  sympathies  which  exist  between  Rumanians  on  both  sides 
of  the  political  boundary.  I  am,  therefore,  entitled  to  expect  that  the  Hunga- 
rian government  will  do  everything  that  is  right  and  fair  in  dealing  with 
the  real  interests  of  its  Rumanian  subjects  .  .  .  I  lay  stress  upon  this  point 
for  it  is  the  principal  condition  for  bringing  about  a  good  understanding 
between  the  two  countries."  This  and  similar  admonitions  Magyar  politi- 
cians,  bent  upon  assimilating  the  Rumanians,  disregarded  to  their  peril. 

Serbia  likewise  occasioned  some  imeasiness  at  the  Ballplatz  because  of 
ihe  magnetic  influence  it  might  exert,  was  indeed  exerting  in  a  limited  way, 
upon  South  Slavs  dwelling  under  the  Hapsburg  and  the  Ottoman  flags. 
Scrbian  patriots  who  dreamed  of  a  Yugoslav  State  embracing  all  South 
Slavs  had  followed  with  lively  intercst  the  success  of  the  unification  movc- 
ments  in  Italy  and  Rumania.  Serb  volunteers  who  had  fought  in  Garibaldi's 
famous  Sicilian  army  declared  in  a  farewell  message  to  their  Commander, 
"Your  triumphs  in  Southern  Italy  have  made  every  noble  heart  leap  on  the 
shores  of  the  Danube  and  the  Sava."  For  the  purpose  of  wresting  Yugoslav- 
inhabited  territory  from  Turkey,  Prince  Michael  of  Serbia  contemplated 
a  Balkan  league  of  nations,  but  an  assassin's  bullet  removed  him  in  1868  and 
the  league  idea  perished.  Serbian  foreign  trade  was  restricted  almost  exclu- 
sively  to  Austria,  which  enabled  Vicima  to  exercise  a  large  if  not  a  Control- 
ling influence  in  the  foreign  politics  of  the  principality.^^ 

Montenegro's  ambitious  prince  Nicholas  leaned  heavily  on  Russia  and 
with  its  blessing  had  tried  in  1866  to  obtain  an  Adriatic  outlet  from  Turkey. 
That  project  was  upset  by  the  powers  who  suspected  that  the  port,  while 
nominally  Montenegrin,  would  be  in  fact  Muscovite.  As  evidence  of  bis 
Russophile  sentiments,  Nicholas  sent  bis  daughters  to  Russia  for  an  educa- 
tion  and  husbands;  St.  Petersburg,  on  its  part,  promoted  the  candidacy  of 
the  prince  to  the  throne  of  Serbia,  left  vacant  by  MichaePs  murder. 

With  the  Ottoman  empire  Austrian  relations  may  on  balance  be  described 
as  cordial.  True,  pressure  from  Vienna  had  just  obliged  the  sultan  to  evacu- 
atc  bis  soldiers  from  the  principality  of  Serbia,  but  during  an  uprising  of 
Cretans,  Austrian  diplomacy  worked  to  prevent  the  disturbances  from  spread- 


lacfc  was  a  markcd  lendcncy  towaid  inJcpcndent  proprictorsliips  on  whicli 
gardens  and  vineyards  were  cultivated  to  satisfy  the  requirements  of  Vienna 
and  other  populous  centers.  Ownership  of  landed  property  in  Carniola  was 
especially  widesprcad,  a  heritage  of  thc  land  redistribution  eflfected  while  the 
provincc  belonged  to  the  Napoleonic  kingdom  of  Illyria.  As  of  1870,  small 
Austrian  farms  were  not,  as  a  rule,  hcavily  mortgaged;  it  was  exceptional 
to  find  a  Httle  holding  mortgaged  to  as  much  as  half  its  value,  and  on  the 
independent  farmsteads  there  was  considerable  material  comfort  and  con- 
tentment. 

In  certain  areas  of  the  empire  peasants  supplemented  their  incomes  in 
special  ways.  Tourist  traffic,  for  example,  in  the  Austrian  Alps,  in  the  health 
spas  of  Bohemia,  and  on  the  Dalmatian  coast  created  seasonal  employment; 
in  one  Styrian  district,  peasants  turncd  amateur  veterinarians  and  traveled 
far  and  wide  over  eastern  Europe  doctoring  animals  by  rule-of-thumb  tech- 
niques;  many  a  Bucovinian  rustic  was  hired  as  a  "beater"  on  a  large  game 
preserve.  Wonk  in  forests  and  in  timher  industries  was  an  important  source 
of  revenue  for  sonne  poor  peasants;  and  almost  everywhere  household  handi- 
crafts  were  carricd  on  in  cottages  when  the  weather  was  inclement  and  in 
the  Winter  months  when  the  ground  could  not  be  worked.  Womenfolk  spun 
and  wove,  made  lace  and  embroidcry,  or  plaited  straw  articles,  while  the 
men  turncd  out  baskets  and  pots  or  worked  up  articles  of  wood  and  leathcr; 
wages  for  this  toil  were  invariably  small,  miserably  small. 

The  growth  of  factory  production,  which  had  ruinous  consequences  for 
cottage  industries,  and  competition  from  mechanized  agriculture  both  at 
home  and  abroad  seriously  affected  the  economy  of  the  small  proprietor  of 
Austria.  Service  of  mortgages  reduced  some  peasants  in  time  to  the  living 
Standards  their  fathers  had  known  in  the  serf  period,  when  they  were  obli- 
gated  to  turn  over  part  of  their  harvests  to  noble  lords.  Many  a  small  owner 
sought  escape  from  his  economic  plight  by  moving  into  factory  centers  or 
to  a  new  home  beyond  the  Atlantic.  Increasing  pressure  of  population  in 
the  countryside  likewise  swelled  the  exodus  to  cities  and  overseas. 

In  some  mountainous  districts  of  Austria  wealthy  townsmen  bought  up 
peasant  holdings,  planted  them  with  trees,  and  used  them  as  hunting  pre- 
serves.  What  happened  was  poetically  dcpicted  by  the  novelist  Peter  Rosegger 
m  Jacob  the  Last,  a  tale  of  rural  Styria.  In  the  novel  many  peasants  seil  their 
properties  to  a  rieh  city  chap,  who  allows  trees  to  grow  up  on  land  that  oncc 
had  been  tilled.  Ravenous  deer  ruin  the  crops  of  those  peasants  who  linger 
on  in  the  Community.  So  the  peasants,  with  one  solitary  exception,  part  with 
their  holdings  and  move  off  to  cities,  whcre  they  find  living  drab  and  un- 
satisfying.  But  the  obdurate  Jacob  clings  tenaciously  to  his  good  earth,  though 
conditions  of  existence  grow  progressively  more  harsh.  He  is  caught  killing  a 
deer  for  food;  imprisoned,  and  in  terrible  misery  of  mind  and  spirit,  he  takes 


1 


m 


I. 


{ 


. 


his  own  hfe.  To  his  mcniory  an  old  fricnd  laised  a  rudc  loinbsionc,  into 
which  was  cut:  "Jacob  Steinruther,  the  last  peasant  of  Altenmoss." 

Except  in  the  Adriatic  region,  there  was  not  much  farm  tenantry  m  the 
Austrian  empire  and  where  it  existed  the  landowner  commonly  supplied 
seeds  and  fertilizers.  The  tenant's  share  of  the  produce  was  as  httle  as  a 
third,  though  in  the  least  fertile  districts  his  portion  might  reach  as  much 
as  four-fifths.  So  long  as  a  tenant  cultivated  the  land  properly  he  could  not 
lawfully  be  evicted,  and  if  he  desired  he  might  purchase  the  property.  There 
was  a  distinct  trend  toward  the  conversion  of  tenant  farmers  into  mdepend- 

ent  proprietors. 

The  conspicuous  features  of  rural  economy  in  the  provmccs  of  Bohemia, 
Moravia,  and  Silesia  were  the  large  estates  of  the  aristocracy  and  the  dwarf 
properties  of  the  peasantry.  Census  reports  of  1896  disclosed  that  more  than 
a  quarter  of  the  land  of  Bohemia  belonged  to  fewer  than  2  per  cent  of  the 
landowners,  while  in  Moravia  a  third  was  owned  by  fewer  than  i  per  cent. 
Huge  properties  in  Bohemia,  extending  over  more  than  five  thousand  areas, 
covered  more  than  a  quarter  of  the  province;  the  largest  of  the  holdings, 
bclonging  to  the  powerful  Schwarzenberg  clan,  reached  almost  five  hundred 
thousand  acres,  a  veritable  kingdom.  In  Moravia  and  Silesia  the  proportion 
of  big  estates  was  almost  as  great,  and  properties  of  thirty  thousand  acres 
were  not  unusual.  A  considerable  part  of  these  latifundia  was  forested  and 
much  of  the  arable  soil  was  leased  to  peasants.  On  the  big  estates  agricultural 
machinery  was  increasingly  the  vogue  and  there  was  a  tendency  to  grow 
crops  that  required  a  minimum  of  labor. 

In  the  northern  provinces  peasant  holdings  capable  of  supporting  a  family 
were  relatively  rare,  by  no  means  typical.  As  of  1896,  45  per  cent  of  the  farms 
were  under  an  acre  and  a  quarter  and  58  per  cent  were  smaller  than  two 
and  one-half  acres;  owners  of  these  dwarf  properties  often  rented  additional 
land  from  the  great  estates.  Similar  conditions  of  land  tenure  existed  in 
Galicia,  where  three-fifths  of  the  productive  soil  belonged  to  big  estates  and 
many  peasants  owned  only  an  acre  or  two.  In  the  Cracow  district,  for  each 
big  property  there  were  thirty  to  forty  dwi^rf  farms,  and  a  Uke  Situation 
prevailed  in  the  heavily  wooded  province  of  Bucovina. 

The  insufficiently  landed  rural  class,  wherever  found,  depended  heavily 
for  livelihood  upon  employment  on  the  large  estates,  while  the  whoUy  land- 
less  class,  an  enlarging  Company,  lived  entirely  on  their  pay  as  farm  laborers. 
Treated  with  scant  consideration,  illiterate  and  inefficient,  paid  poorly  and 
worked  long  hours  in  the  busy  seasons,  the  Austrian  rural  proletariat  resem- 
bled  that  of  Hungary,  Russia,  and  scctions  of  Italy.  On  the  wide  Schwarzen- 
berg domains,  the  workers,  some  Germans,  some  Czechs,  lived  in  a  feudal 
cnvironment,  subject  to  eviction  from  their  rented  huts  if,  for  instance,  they 
married  without  the  sanction  of  their  lord. 


1 


168 


THE    HAPSBURG    MONARCHY 


II 

Human  conditions  among  rural  workers  were  perhaps  worst  in  Polish 
Galicia,  where  a  huge  surplus  of  labor  normally  existed  and  the  nobility 
had  almost  unlimited  authority  over  thc  poverty-strickcn  ficld  hands.  Not 
infrequently  half  the  wages  was  Hquidated  in  spirits  which  thc  proprietors 
alone  had  the  legal  right  to  distill  and  distribute.  In  the  1870's  a  Galician 
rustic  toiled  from  daylight  to  dusk  £or  the  sum  of  twelve  ccnts  a  day  in 
winter,  eighteen  cents  in  summer,  and  as  much  as  twenty-nine  cents  during 
the  arduous  harvest  season.  Women  in  Silesia  cultivated  potatoes  for  ten 
Cents  a  day  and  a  spot  of  corn  brandy;  male  workers,  hired  by  the  year, 
were  given  maintenance  and  twenty  dollars.  And  yet  in  these  northern 
provinces  wages  had  advanced  any where  from  50  to  150  per  cent  since  forced 
labor  had  ceased  a  generation  earlier.  Many  Galician  field  workers  owned  a 
plot  of  ground,  or  rather  several  small,  scattered  strips,  and  a  dwelling,  as 
a  rule  a  miserable  and  flimsy  structure  of  wood  and  clay  covered  with  thatch. 
On  the  larger  Silesian  estates  workers  were  furnished  cottages  and  garden 
patches  by  employers. 

Housing  at  best  left  much  to  be  desired;  at  worst,  the  Situation  horrified 
foreign  travelers.  An  English  agricultural  specialist  reported  these  findings 
in  the  late  i86o's:  "At  one  village  ...  I  had  an  opportunity  of  seeing  how 
they  [the  laborers]  were  lodged:  one  large  barnlike  building,  with  only  a 
ground  floor,  was  divided  into  two  rooms.  In  one,  forty  feet  long,  twenty 
fect  Wide,  and  ten  feet  high,  were  six  beds  and  four  families;  in  the  other, 
somewhat  smaller,  were  five  beds,  and  three  families.  Smallpox  having 
broken  out  a  fortnight  before,  I  was  told  some  tenants  of  this  wretched  abode 
had  been  removed  in  order  to  thin  it.  There  was  one  common  cooking 
stove  to  the  whole,  and  to  add  to  the  wretchedness  of  the  place,  it  was  in- 
fested  with  rats.  A  more  deplorable  scene  it  had  never  been  my  lot  to 
witness."  ^ 

Pauper  Standards  of  living  inspired  strikes,  rioting,  and  home  burnings 
in  Galicia,  which  were  particularly  serious  at  the  end  of  the  nineteenth  Cen- 
tury, and  landowners  were  forced  to  raise  wages.  Workers  in  Bucovina  had 
a  habit  of  falling  into  debt  to  local  usurers  and  spent  much  of  their  lives 
trying  to  liberate  themselves. 

Low  living  Standards  among  the  rural  poor  and  land  hunger  were  incen- 
tives  to  seek  economic  improvement  in  the  industrial  communities  of  Austria 
or  seasonal  work  on  the  great  estates  of  eastern  Germany  and  Russia,  and 
for  the  bolder,  the  more  venturesome,  to  emigrate  across  the  sea.  It  was  about 
1880,  after  oceanic  transportation  rates  had  fallen  and  when  industry  and 
agriculture  were  expanding  rapidly  in  the  United  States,  that  the  migration 


\ 


1 1 


THE    AUSTRIAN        OTHER    HALl 


>> 


169 


!( 


!■ 


I  • 


h\ 


m-\ 


m 


from  Austria  took  on  impressive  dimensions,  reaching  its  peak  early  in  the 
twentieth  Century. 

Legislation  dating  from  the  era  of  Mctternich  and  even  earlier  attempted 
to  prevent  emigration  entirely,  but  later  the  government  tried  to  regulate 
and  restrict  it.  It  was  stipulated  in  the  constitutional  laws  of  1867  that  "free- 
dom  of  emigration  is  limited  only  by  liability  to  perform  military  service"; 
but  a  good  many  emigrants  departed  sccretly  and  so  escaped  duty  as  con- 
scripts.  Statistics  on  the  number  of  deparlures  vary  greatly  in  completeness 
and  accuracy  and  can  be  regardcd  mercly  as  suggestive.  Something  like 
four  out  of  five  of  all  emigrants  in  thc  period  from  1876  to  1910  sailed  for 
the  United  States  and  most  of  the  rest  found  new  homes  in  Canada. 

Mcthods  of  cultivation,  like  Systems  of  landowning,  showed  considerable 
diflercnces  in  various  sections  of  the  Austrian  empire.  Modern  improvements 
in  farm  tcchnique  were  confined  pretty  largely  to  areas  in  which  extensive 
estates  were  located;  on  these  big  properties,  annual  rotation  of  crops,  the 
use  of  artificial  manure,  periodic  changc  of  seeds,  dcep  plowing  with  ma- 
chinery  came  into  use,  the  GaHcian  landlords  being  less  progressive  in  these 
rcspects  than  the  others.  Peasant  produccrs  generally  preserved  the  wasteful, 
uncconomic  scattered-plot  System  and  the  old  custom  of  allowing  one-third 
of  the  arable  soil  to  lie  fallow  each  year  in  order  to  recuperate  its  fertility. 
Since  Galician  peasants  were  able  to  obtain  animal  fertilizers  only  in  insuffi- 
cient  quantitics,  night  soil  in  powder  form  was  applied  extensively,  as  in 
China  and  Japan.  Tools  of  peasant  cultivators  were  frequently  no  newer 
than  the  Old  Testament;  grain  was  thrcshed,  for  example,  chiefly  by  women 
with  flails  after  the  outdoor  work  was  finished  in  the  autumn. 


III 


i 


Blcssed  with  varied  climatic  conditions,  ranging  from  rather  dry  Bohemia 
0  the  well-watered  and  semitropical  Adriatic  districts,  Austria  yielded  a  wide 
variety  of  soil  products.  Everywhere  rye,  the  largest  single  crop,  and  wheat 
were  grown,  and  oats  and  barley  in  many  regions.  Bohemia,  which  was  the 
most  productive  province  agriculturally,  raised  large  crops  of  potatoes  and 
clovcr,  and  made  a  specialty  of  sugar  bects;  the  output  of  sugar  beets  per 
acre  even  surpassed  that  in  Germany,  and,  apart  from  furnishing  sugar, 
they  yielded  molasses,  fodder,  and  fertilizer.  Turnips  were  widely  cultivated 
in  the  northern  areas,  and  small  quantitics  of  tobacco  were  grown  in  Galicia 
and  Bucovina.  In  Dalmatia  and  the  rcgion  around  Vienna,  vineyards  were 
of  considerable  significance. 

Stock  raising  was  an  important  source  of  income  and  providcd  substan- 
tial  surpluses  for  export.  In  the  Alpine  highlands  much  care  was  devoted  to 
the  breeding  of  horned  cattle;  peasants  had  pasturage  privileges  on  the  hill- 
sidcs  as  well  as  in  the  meadows  of  thc  lowland.  Toward  the  end  of  May, 


-*  w^ 


170 


THE    HAPSBURG    MONARCHY 


TH£    AUSTRIAN    **OTHER    HALF" 


cattle  and  sheep  were  driven  to  the  Iower  part  of  the  highland  and  gradually 
ate  their  way  upward  as  the  summer  progressed.  Feed  for  winter  consump- 
tion  was  scarce;  it  was  mostly  hay,  with  turnips  occasionally,  but  clover  was 
reserved  for  horses.  In  the  Vienna  area,  milch  cows  and  sheep  were  raised 
in  large  numbers,  but  few  cattle  were  bred  in  the  southern  provinces,  for 
there  land  was  minutely  divided  and  the  soil  was  stony.  Dalmatia,  however, 
was  famed  for  goats  and  sheep  and  Istria  for  sheep. 

On  the  large  estates  of  the  north,  livestock  thrived  on  the  abundant 
natural  pasturage  and  the  waste  from  breweries  and  sugar  refineries.  Galicia 
exported  cattle,  especially  oxen;  it  was  a  common  practice  for  the  large 
estate  owners  to  buy  animals  in  Russia,  fatten  them  during  the  winter 
months,  and  ship  them  to  the  market  in  the  spring.  The  more  enterprising 
Polish  landlords  went  in  for  superior  breeds  of  sheep  and  of  horses.  Bohemia 
and  Moravia  raised  pigs  on  a  large  scale. 

Before  1914,  the  Danube  Monarchy  was  the  largest  wood-exporting  coun- 
try  in  the  world.  About  a  third  of  the  Austrian  empire  was  covered  with 
woodlands,  the  proportion  being  highest  in  the  Alpine  areas  and  Buco- 
vina,  and  smallest  in  Galicia.  Spruce,  beech,  and  oak  had  the  largest  com- 
mercial  importance  and  much  spruce  was  shipped  to  Germany,  Italy,  and 
other  Mediterranean  countries.  Forests  furnished  part-time  employment  for 
peasants  in  the  making  of  furniture  and  charcoal,  and  in  pulp  and  cellulose 
mills.  Rigid  laws  regulated  the  care  and  cutting  of  woodlands;  yet  before 
World  War  I  Austrian  timber  was  being  felled  faster  than  it  grew.  Excellent 
schools  for  the  training  of  expert  foresters  were  maintain.ed. 

For  the  agriculturist  the  world  around,  the  problem  of  credit  to  meet 
emergency  expenses  or  to  tide  him  over  until  crops  were  harvested  and  seid 
presented  perennial  difSculties.  Scarcity  of  credit  was  a  constant  source  of 
distress  among  landowners,  small  and  large,  and  village  usurers  fleeced  with- 
out  ruth  the  simple  rustics  who  needed  cash.  Old-line  Austrian  savings  banks 
extended  loans  on  landed  property,  but  the  newer  commercial  banks  rc- 
stricted  rural  lending  almost  entirely  to  the  large  estates,  which  oficred 
better  security  than  the  peasant  farmsteads.  In  the  i88o's  pcasant  borrowers 
had  to  pay  as  much  as  12  per  cent  a  year  in  interest;  large  proprietors,  only 
half  that  figure.  A  few  special  mortgage  institutions  in  the  Austrian  prov- 
inces made  loans  to  agrarian  interests  at  relatively  low  rates. 

Of  special  importance  for  peasant  welfare  was  the  development  of  co- 
operative  banking  on  principles  that  had  been  devised  by  a  Rhineland  mayor, 
Raffeisen,  and  that  had  worked  successfully  in  Germany.  The  first  Raffeisen 
Society  of  Austria  appears  to  have  been  organized  by  Germans  in  Bohemia 
in  1888;  the  value  of  the  institution  was  quickly  appreciated,  so  that  by 
1912  over  eighty  thousand  banks  were  in  Operation.  Some  artisans  and 
factory  workers  joined  the  societies  but  most  members  were  soil  workers; 


171 


1^ 


f 


peasant  banks  in  Galicia  served  as  depositories  for  emigrants  who  had  gone 
to  die  New  World. 

Each  Society  restricted  its  sphcre  of  activities  to  a  limited  area,  ordinarily 
to  a  Single  village.  From  deposits  madc  by  peasants  and  others  loans  were 
extended  to  needy  members.  When  a  peasant  required  funds  he  applied  to 
the  bank^s  committee  of  managcment,  indicating  the  purpose  to  which  the 
loan  was  to  be  put.  Proof  of  financial  solvency  and  of  the  good  character 
of  the  borrower  were  prerequisites  to  lending  and  management  was  obli- 
gated  to  see  that  the  funds  were  expcnded  for  the  specified  purpose.  Loans 
were  extended  for  as  long  as  four  years  at  a  general  interest  rate  of  4^  per 
cent,  or  about  a  third  of  the  charge  for  loans  from  other  sources.  Eventually, 
both  Czechs  and  Germans  in  Bohemia  set  up  central  Raffeisen  banks  to 
reinforce  the  local  societies. 

Out  of  the  coöperative  banks  dcveloped  other  coöperative  societies  to 
bcnefit  the  Austrian  peasantry.  They  spread  most  rapidly  in  the  i88ü's  and 
1890's,  when  the  twin  peril  of  American  and  Russian  agricultural  competi- 
tion  was  most  serious.  Dairying  societies  were  pioneers  in  producers'  coöpera- 
tlvcs  and  their  success  in  obtaining  higher  prices  inspired  imitation  by 
wincgrowers,  by  olive  raisers  in  Dalmatia,  and  by  flax  producers  in  the 
northern  provinces.  Peasants  also  formed  societies  to  purchase  farm  ma- 
chinery,  to  operate  distilleries,  to  störe  grain,  and  so  on;  in  parts  of  the 
empire  the  practice  of  buying  goods  in  bulk  and  Cooperation  in  the  sale 
of  products  were  remarkably  well  dcveloped  by  the  twentieth  Century. 
Almost  without  exception  these  organizations  netted  economic  gains  for 
their  members  and  they  probably  did  more  to  improve  or  at  least  to  hold 
steady  the  living  Standards  of  the  landed  peasantry  than  all  the  government 
legislation,  tariff  protection  included,  put  together. 

IV 

It  IS  a  truism  that  none  but  a  peasant  can  really  penetrate  the  peculiar 
psychology,  the  distinctive  mentality,  of  the  European  countryfolk.'  Igno- 
rance,  stupiciity,  and  habit  combined  to  make  them,  particularly  if  they  were 
owners  of  property,  incredibly  patient  and  industrious,  extremely  conserva- 
tive,  cautious  and  mistrustful.  The  ränge  of  peasant  interests  was  confined 
to  the  necessary  and  the  traditional:  the  exacting  routine  of  land  labor,  the 
satisfactions  and  consolations  afforded  by  mother  church,  the  simple  diver- 
sions  of  the  countryside,  and  reluctantly,  under  duress,  a  term  of  Service  in 
the  conscript  army,  and  the  payment  of  taxes. 

A  peasant's  overarching  pride  was  his  land;  his  loftiest  ambition,  if  he 
was  landless,  was  to  obtain  land.  Both  the  soil  and  the  tools  that  turned  the 
soil  were  sacred,  the  very  stuff  and  staff  of  life.  However  few  his  acres 
might  be,  the  peasant  clung  to  them  tenaciously  and  cultivated  them  in 


•.   i  >. 


hK-iii,  togciiicr  ^vhil  suiau  i.acU.MiKii  aiiu  iHlici  [)aiu  DuUi^ii.i.^  üi  ihr 
eines,  all  or  most  o£  whom  were  acliniited  to  ihe  suHrage  by  the  cnfiaii- 
chisement  of  "five-gulden  men"  in  1882,  furnished  the  voting  strengtli  of 
Christian  Socialism. 

It  was  not  in  the  countryside,  however,  but  in  imperial  Vienna  that 
Christian  Socialism  scored  its  initial  and  most  astounding  successes.  Thcre 
its  outstanding  leader  was  one  o£  the  most  remarkable  figures  of  modern 
Austrian  politics,  Doctor  Karl  Lucger/'  Son  of  an  ordinary  Viennese  con- 
cierge,  Lueger  attended  the  University  of  Vienna  and  entered  the  legal 
profession.  As  a  German  Liberal  he  was  elected  in  1875  ^«  ^'^e  Vienna 
municipal  Council  and  he  attracted  attention  by  his  eloquent  and  unrestrained 
mdictments  of  corruption  and  mismanagement  in  the  conduct  of  municipal 
business;  he  exposed  profiteering  in  the  administration  of  municipal  ceme- 
teries  and  flagrant  dishonesty  in  the  building  of  street  railways.  In  courts  of 
law  this  man  of  the  people  stood  forth  as  the  advocate  and  protector  of  the 
underprivileged  and  the  "little  man."  An  individual  of  robust  dislikes,  . 
Lueger  delivered  fervent  diatribes  against  Jewry  as  the  source  of  the  cor- 
rupting  forces  in  public  and  private  aflairs  and  levcled  his  guns  at  the 
Magyars,  or  the  Judaeo-Magyars,  as  he  was  wont  to  call  them.  Magyars 
he  despised  because  they  had  assimilated  many  Jews,  allowed  Protestants 
a  prominent  place  in  politics,  discriminated  against  Germans,  and  exerted 
a  decisive  voice  in  the  foreign  policies  of  the  Dual  Monarchy. 

To  genuine  devotion  to  the  intercsts  of  the  Hapsburgs,  Lueger  joined 
consuming  love  for  his  native  Vienna  and  high  moral  courage.  Endowed 
with  amazing  physical  vitality  and  a  resonant  voice,  he  shone  as  an  orator; 
he  had  perfect  command  of  the  Viennese  vernacular  and  mixed  mucli 
homely  wit  into  his  populär  addresses.  With  the  backing  of  anti-Jewish 
Journals  and  societies,  he  was  elected  to  the  Austrian  parliament  in  1885  «" 
the  platform  of  "a  united  Austria,  German  in  fabric,  Slav  in  sympathy, 
Hapsburg  in  dynasty."  He  was  well  on  the  way  to  a  carcer  that  was  to 
make  him  the  darling  of  Vienna  and  one  of  the  very  strongest  persönalities 
in  Hapsburg  public  affairs. 

The  brothers  Liechtenstein  rallied  the  clerically  minded  among  the  aris- 
tocrats  to  the  banner  of  Christian  Socialism.  Tall,  elegant  Prince  Alois  made 
public  appearances  for  the  party  on  festival  occasions,  delivered  highly 
chiseled  academic  discourses,  replete  with  epigrams,  which  the  crowd  grected 
with  frenzied  applause.  Then  after  shaking  hands  with  a  few  favored  ones 
he  withdrew  to  the  solitude  and  quiet  of  his  palace  and  library,  leaving  the 
lesser  fry  to  carry  on  the  populär  propaganda.  At  the  reichsrat  balloting  of 
1891,  Lueger  and  thirteen  others  were  elected  as  Christian  Socialists,  and  by 
that  time  the  movement  had  become  a  potent  factor  in  the  municipal  aflairs 
of  the  imperial  capital.  Before  long,  as  will  later  be  explaincd,  the  Christian 


öocialLsis  captufcd  Vicniia,  Ukmj^h  ouiiiuu  ui  i»*- 
provinces  the  party  attracicd  littlc  suppoii. 


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The  Poles  of  Galicia  preserved  their  reputation  as  the  favored  children 
of  the  Austrian  empire  and  were  granted  additional  privileges  from  ume  to 
time,  such  as  the  right  to  use  the  Polish  language  on  the  railways  of  the 
province.  Francis  Joseph  won  the  hearty  applause  of  Poles  everywhere  when 
in  1889  he  elevated  the  archbishop  of  Cracow,  universally  esteemed  as  the 
primate  of  Polish  Catholicism,  to  the  dignity  of  a  prince.  "Every  writer," 
exulted  an  Austrophile  Pole,  "blesses  the  sovereign  who  has  fostered  the 
national  resurrection  of  the  Poles  under  the  aegis  of  Austria."  Thus  the  Poles 
had  their  rewards  for  the  steady  support  that  the  deputies  gave  the  govern- 
ment  in  Vienna  on  both  domestic  and  foreign  policies. 

The  Polish  Club  in  fact  formed  the  most  thoroughly  disciplined,  most 
politically  astute  and  rclatively  the  most  influential  bloc  in  the  Austrian 
parliament,  and  invariably  voted  as  a  unit.  German  Liberais  openly  dis- 
played  their  aversion  for  the  Poles.  When  Vienna,  at  the  time  a  stronghold 
of  German  Liberalism,  celebrated  (1883)  the  bicentenary  of  the  deliverance 
of  the  capital  from  the  Turks,  the  vital  role  of  the  Polish  hero  Sobieski  was 
delibcrately  depreciated  by  the  German  managers  of  the  affair.  Outside  of 
Vienna,  the  Christian  world,  on  the  other  band,  hailed  the  festival  as  a 

"Sobieski  celebration." 

Hatred  of  Austrian  Poles  for  Russia,  oppressor  of  their  kinsmen,  showed 
no  abatement,  and  lively  interest  was  displayed  in  fellow  nationals  in  the 
Prussian  kingdom.  Land-expropriation  schemes  sponsored  by  Bismarck 
evoked  angry  protests,  and  press  criticisms  grew  so  acrimonious  that  the 
Austrian  ministry,  sensitive  to  the  feeling  of  the  German  ally,  applied 
repressive  censorship.  Although  consistently  loyal  to  Austria,  Poles  did  not 
neglect  to  keep  alive  their  national  heritage;  the  centennial  of  the  heroic 
rising  of  Kosciusko,  for  example,  was  commemorated  (1894)  at  Cracow,  with 
representatives  of  the  Russian  and  Prussian  Poles  in  attendance.  Similar 
all-Polish  gatherings  marked  the  burial  of  the  national  poet  Mickiewicz  in 
Cracow  (1895)  and  the  anniversary  of  the  ancient  university  there. 

It  was  during  the  Taaffe  epoch  that  industrialism  entered  Galicia  in  a 
significant  way.  New  railways  were  laid  down,  small  factories  built,  and 
the  Output  of  petroleum  increased.  Though  wells  had  been  dug  as  early  as 
1853,  half  a  dozcn  years  before  petroleum  was  discovered  in  Pennsylvania, 
scarcity  of  capital  and  crude  techniques  retarded  production,  until  Stanislas 
Szczepanowski  became  interested.  He  had  studied  abroad  and  on  his  return 
invited  Canadian  technicians  and  foreign  capital  to  participate  in  the  produc- 
tion and  refining  of  oil;  before  his  death  in  1900  Galicia  was  not  only  sup- 


216 


THE    HAPSBURG    MONARCHY 


plying  the  petroleum  requirements  of  the  Monarchy  but  was  marketing  a 
small  surplus  in  Germany.  A  man  of  many  talcnts,  Szczepanowski  was  an 
active  figure  in  politics,  in  coöperative  societies,  and  in  populär  education, 
and  his  leadership  gave  a  lasting  impetus  to  the  economic  development  of 
backward  Galicia.  In  all  of  this  he  was  abetted  by  a  line  of  skillf  ul  govcrnors, 
such  as  Count  Casimir  Badeni,  who  held  office  from  1888  to  1895. 

Polish  politicians  worked  tirelessly  to  strengthen  Polish  lordship  over 
the    Ruthenian    or    Ukrainian   minority,    which    predominated    in    eastern 
Gahcia  and  was  almost  as  numerous  as  the  Poles  in  the  province  as  a  whole; 
Ruthenians  were  spoken  of  as  the  sworn  foes  and  worst  enemies  of  the 
Polish  nationality.  Ruthenian  deputies  in  the  Galician  diet,  who  in  1861 
formed  a  quarter  of  the  entire  body,  were  gradually  eliminated;  Ruthenian 
representation  in  the  imperial  reichsrat,  too,  suflered  a  sharp  diminution,  and 
treason  trials  of  Ruthenians  in  Galicia,  priests  and  journalists,  believed  to 
be  intrigumg  with  Russia,  were  familiär  occurrences.  Poles  habitually  snoke 
of  educated  Ruthenians  as  mere  tools  of  Russia,  which  was  true  only  of  one 
faction,  the  Old  Ruthenians,  who  held  that  the  salvation  of  their  countrymen 
lay  m  pohtical  union  with  the  tsardom.  Dominated  by  the  clergy-their 
headquarters  was  the  Uniat  Cathedral  in  Lemberg-the  conservative  Old 
Ruthenians  encouraged  the  use  of  the  Muscovite  language  and  poked  fun 
at  the  idea  that  there  was  a  definite  Ukrainian  language  and  literature. 

At  odds  with  these  eiders  were  the  Young  Ukrainians,  Ukrainian  na- 
tionalists,  who  considered  themselves  members  of  a  distinct  nationality  and 
g  oned  m  the  Ukrainian  dialect.  They  dreamed  of  building  an  independent 
Ukramian  State,  and  on  the  way  to  that  goal  they  desired  an  autonomous 
Ukraniian  unit  mside  the  Dual  Monarchy,  embracing  areas  in  Hungary 
m  which  Ruthenians  predominated  as  well  as  similar  districts  in  Austria 
Ardently  interested  in  the  peasant  masses,  who  lived  in  a  semiservile  rela- 
tion  to  Polish  landlords,  the  Ukrainophiles  were  responsive  to  democratic 
pohtical  principles  and  were  inclined  to  be  anticlerical  in  outlook.  These 
ideas  they  circulated  in  several  patriotic  publications. 

Ukrainophilism  in  Austria  was  fostered  by  the  repression  of  the  Ukrain- 
lan  Population  in  Russia.  Tsar  Alexander  II,  rendered  uneasy  by  the  growth 
of   Ukrainian   sentiments,   ordered    (1876)    the   suppression    of   Ukrainian 
learned  societies,  forbade  the  publication  or  circulation  of  books  in  Ukrain- 
ian, and  imposed  other  restrictions  upon  the  use  of  the  Ukrainian  tongue. 
Thereupon   Russian  Ukrainophile   intellectuals   took  up   residence  abroad, 
some  in  Swiss  Geneva,  others  in  Austrian  Galicia,  which,  it  was  hoped' 
would  serve  as  the  nucleus  round  which  all  areas  inhabited  by  UkrainianJ 
might  coalesce-another  Piedmont.  Unhappily,  the  Ukrainians  of  Galicia 
could  not  agree  upon  a  common  front  and  competed  against  each  other 
at  the  polls,  which  redounded  to  the  benefit  of  their  Polish  adversaries.  As 


TAAFFE*S    IRON    RING     1879-189}  217 

timc  movcd  on  it  was  apparent  that  the  Ukrainian  nationalist  faction  was 
making  hcadway  at  the  expense  of  the  Muscovite  Old  Ruthenians/' 

The  Viennese  government  was  alert  to  the  value  of  Ukrainophilism  in 
the  cvent  of  war  with  Russia,  and  not  unmindful  of  the  fact  that  if  necessary 
the  Ruthenians  might  be  serviceable  in  rcstraining  the  Poles  in  Galicia.  It 
was  gratifying  to  Vienna  to  hear  a  Ruthenian  spokesman,  Polenowski,  de- 
clare  at  a  time  when  relations  with  Russia  were  acutely  strained  that  his 
countrymen  were  ready  "at  any  momcnt  to  sacrifice  their  lives  for  their 
country  and  their  emperor,  under  whose  scepter  they  had  experienced  so 
many  blessings." 

Ukrainian  nationalists  pressed  for  the  conversion  of  the  University  of 
Lcmberg,  which  had  a  mixed  German  and  Ruthenian  character  uhtil  the 
seventies  when  Polish  was  made  the  language  of  instruction,  into  a  Ru- 
dicnian  institution,  or  failing  that  the  cstablishment  of  a  new  Ruthenian 
university.  Eight  hundred  Ukrainians,  it  was  urged,  were  in  attendance 
at  institutions  of  higher  learning,  and  cnough  Ruthenian  professors  were 
at  work  in  various  institutions,  it  was  claimed,  to  staff  an  independent 
university.  Polish  politicians,  howcvcr,  vctoed  that  demand,  though  they 
authorizcd  a  professorship  of  Ukrainian  history  in  the  University  of  Lem- 
berg.  In  1894,  ^'^^  foremost  Ukrainian  historian,  M.  D.  Hrushevsky,  was 
invitcd  from  Kiev  to  occupy  the  new  chair;  in  collaboration  with  other 
iiuellecluals,  he  founded  a  Journal,  Litcruturno-Naiil^ovy  Vistru^  (Messen- 
ger of  Literature  and  Science),  which  was  a  serviceable  instrumcnt  in 
pioj)agaling  an  anti-Russian  Version  of  Ukrainian  nationalism.  The  review 
was  published  under  the  auspices  of  the  Shevchenko  Scientific  Society, 
founded  at  Lcmberg  in  1873  to  promolc  scholarly  study  of  Ukrainian  bis 
tory,  philology,  and  natural  science. 

A  rallying  ground  for  Ukrainian  scholars  of  both  Russian  and  Austrian 
citizenship,  the  Schevchenko  Society  attained  international  repute  for  its 
Icarncd  publications.  Writers  of  fiction,  drama,  and  poetry  enriched  the 
slender  stock  of  Ukrainian  literature,  and  the  centenary  of  Kotlyarevsky's 
Acneid  (1898),  perhaps  the  most  prizcd  picce  of  literature  in  the  Ukrainian 
language,  occasioned  eflusive  patriotic  dcmonstrations.  Libraries,  privately 
financcd  schools,  gymnastic  and  coöperative  societies,  each  contributed  dis- 
tinctively  to  the  slowly  emerging  Ukrainian  national  consciousness.  The 
battle  with  the  Poles  went  merrily  on,  and  little  enough  had  the  Ukrainians 
to  show  for  their  zeal— aside  from  the  chair  of  history  at  Lemberg,  only 
a  Single  Ukrainian  gymnasium,  the  publication  of  notices  in  odicial  places 
in  the  Ukrainian  language,  and  the  use  of  th'e  mother  tongue  in  courts  of 
law.^^  But  as  the  ensuing  years  disclosed,  it  was  perilous  for  Polish  politicians 
in  Galicia  to  ignore  Ukrainian  sentiments  and  aspirations. 


290 


THE    HAPSBURG    MONARCHY 


Galician  frontier,  and  the  Austrian  High  Command  countercd  by  increas- 
ing  the  military  forccs  in  GaHcia,  laying  an  cmbargo  on  the  exportation  of 
horses,  calling  conscripts  to  the  colors  months  in  advance  of  the  scheduled 
time,  and  ordering  new  repeating  rifles.  The  gravity  of  the  crisis  arising  out 
of  the  Bulgarian  imbrogho  necessitated  these  warUke  measures,  Kälnoky 
explained  to  the  delegations.  Upon  the  Viennese  Stock  Exchange  and  on 
Austrian  business  generally,  war  alarums  had  a  very  depressing  eflect. 

On  the  diplomatic  front  three  major  events  of  1887  reactcd  upon  the 
Austrian  international  position:  the  renewal  of  the  Triple  Alliance,  an  entente 
with  Britain  to  which  Italy  was  party,  and  the  replacement  of  the  League 
of  the  Three  Emperors  by  Bismarck's  famous  Reinsurance  Treaty  with 
Russia.  This  last  agreement  was,  however,  unknown  in  Vienna. 

The  stormy  international  scene  of  1887  played  squarely  into  the  hands 
of  the  Italians,  who  feit  that  the  Triple  Alliance  had  done  little  to  further 
their  national  interests.  In  1885,  when  Italy  laid  hands  upon  Massawa  on 
the  Red  Sea,  she  was  told  by  Austria  that  she  would  be  expected  to  with- 
draw  as  soon  as  Britain  retired  from  Egypt,  which  seemcd  like  an  ungen- 
erous  stand  for  an  ally  to  take.  Actually  Italy  expected  and  wanted  diplo- 
matic Support  from  her  Triplice  allies  to  enable  her  to  carvc  out  a  really 
impressive  African  empire.  And  Italy  envisaged  the  western  Balkans  as  a 
convenient  field  for  expansionist  energy;  in  any  case  Austrian  power  in  the 
Balkans  ought  not  to  be  increased  unless  Italy  secured  appropriate  com- 
pensation. 

As  early  as  November  1885,  Italy  had  informed  her  allies  that  she  would 
renew  the  Triple  Alliance  only  if  given  assurances  of  backing  for  her  colo- 
nial  aspirations  and  promises  that  her  interests  in  the  Balkans  would  bc 
protected.  Count  Robilant,  the  new  Italian  foreign  minister,  feit  strongly 
that  the  original  Triplice  treaty  was  insufficiently  profitable  to  Italy   and 
was  determined  that  the  alliance,  if  renewed,  should  yield  larger  dividends 
for  his  country.  But  Kalnoky  declined  to  meet  the  Italian  wishes  and  Bis- 
marck  was  of  like  mind  for  a  time,  though  eventually  he  shifted  his  ground. 
He  approved  a  draft  treaty  that  Italy  produced  in  November  of  1886,  and 
he  pressed  Austria  to  concur.  But  Kalnoky  still  hung  back,  for  he  feared 
embroilment  with  France  as  a  result  of  Italian  colonial  aspirations  and  he 
was  unwilHng  to  concede  to  the  Italians  a  foothold  on  the  Balkan  side  of 
the  Adriatic.  Austria,  he  said,  would  consent  only  to  the  renewal  of  the 
treaty  of  1882  without  alteration. 

Afraid  lest  Italy  might  gravitate  toward  France  or  Russia,  Bismarck 
then  made  the  ingenious  proposal  that  the  original  treaty  should  be  per- 
petuated  but  should  be  supplemented  by  bilateral  pacts,  which  would  satisfy 
Italian  desires.  There  would  be  a  pact  between  Germany  and  Italy  in  which 
the  former  would  commit  itself  to  back  the  Italian  colonial  aims,  and  also 


M 


71 


iB 


THE    TRIPLE    ALLIANCE     1880-1897  291 

an  Austro-Italian  Convention  in  which  Vienna  would  promise  compensation 
to  Italy  should  the  Austrian  position  in  the  Balkans  be  bettered.  To  that  plan 
Kalnoky  asscnted,  with  the  reservation  that  Austrian  annexation  of  Bosnia 
would  not  entitle  Italy  to  a  reward.  Italy  eagerly  accepted  these  terms,  and 
in  February  of  1887  appropriate  diplomatic  instruments  were  signed. 

Under  the  terms  of  the  Austro-Italian  Convention,  the  two  allies  would 
coöperate  to  prescrve  the  territorial  Status  quo  in  the  Near  East,  but  if 
changcs  should  become  necessary,  then  the  two  powers  would  decide  in 
advance  on  the  division  of  the  spoils.  By  the  special  treaty  with  Germany, 
that  power  was  pledged  to  fight  at  Italy's  side  to  prevent  France  from 
appropriating  TripoH  or  Morocco,  even  though  Italy  should  start  the  war; 
in  this  wise,  an  unmistakably  aggressive  character  was  imparted  to  the 
Triple  Alliance. 

Austrian  and  British  diplomacy  had,  in  the  main,  followed  parallel  lines 
with  reference  to  Russian  activities  in  the  Near  East.  Both  were  bent  upon 
Iiolding  Russian  influence  in  Bulgaria  at  the  minimum;  yet  each  cabinet 
was  suspicious  of  the  other^s  diplomacy  and  hesitant  about  promising  posi- 
tive Support.  In  the  autumn  of  1886  Anglo-Austrian  discussions  were  held 
on  a  formal  understanding  which  would  be  pointed  against  Russia,  but 
Britain  would  do  nothing  more  than  assure  Austria  of  her  good  will.' 

Behind  the  sccnes,  in  connection  with  the  conversations  on  the  renewal 
of  the  Triple  Alliance,  Bismarck  urgcd  Italy  to  strike  a  bargain  on  the 
Mediterranean  with  Britain.  At  odds  with  France  over  Egypt  and  distrustful 
of  Russian  pretensions  in  the  Balkans,  Britain  responded  cordially  to  Italian 
overtures.  Notes  were  exchanged  in  February  1887  between  the  two  govern- 
mcnts  binding  them  to  act  together  to  maintain  peace  and  the  Status  quo 
along  the  Mediterranean  and  adjoining  seas. 

Meantime,  Austro-British  pourparlers  had  been  revived  and  after  the 
Anglo-Italian  entente  was  negotiated,  Austria  immediately  signed  the  docu- 
incnt.  This  tripartite  Mediterranean  league,  designed  to  preserve  things  as 
thcy  were,  could  be  turned  efTectively  against  France  or  Russia  or  both. 
Latcr  on  in  1887,  the  Mediterranean  understanding  was  made  much  more 
specific,  for  all  three  signatories  promised,  among  other  things,  to  uphold 
lurkish  rights  in  Bulgaria,  in  the  Straits,  and  in  Asia  Minor.  Plainly  this 
was  an  entente  directed  against  Russian  expansion  in  the  Near  East— 
Austria^s  central  concern-and  it  might  also  be  applied  to  restrain  French 
imperialism  in  north  Africa. 

Austro-Russian  antagonism  over  Bulgaria  fatally  destroyed  the  League 
of  the  Three  Emperors.  Russia  would  not  renew  it.  Yet  the  men  on  the 
Ncva,  afraid  of  being  isolated,  addresscd  overtures  to  Bismarck  for  a  treaty 
committmg  Russia  and  Germany  to  ncutrality  in  case  of  war.  Because  of 
the  Austrian  alliance,  which  Bismarck  was  determined  to  preserve,  he  could 


292 


THE    HAPSBURG    MONARCHY 


TUE    TRIPLE    ALLIANCE    1880-1897 


293 


not  sign  a  gcneral  ncutrality  pact;  he  indicated,  however,  his  readiness  to 
cntcr  into  an  understanding  of  limited  scope. 

/On  the  principle  that  half  a  loaf  was  better  than  none,  the  Russians 
acquiesced  and  in  June  of  1887  arranged  a  very  secret  bargain  with  Ger- 
many,  which  is  often  referrcd  to  as  Bismarck's  Reinsurance  Treaty.  Each 
signatory  was  committed  to  bcnevolcnt  neutrality  should  the  other  go  to 
war,  with  the  exceptions  that  Germany  would  not  be  bound  to  neutrality 
if  Russia  attacked  Austria,  and  that  Russia  would  become  a  free  agent  in 
case  of  a  German  attack  on  France.  Germany,  moreovcr,  promised  to  Sup- 
port Russia  diplomatically  in  the  Near  East;  more  exactly,  Russia  could 
rely  on  hclp  from  Berlin  in  regaining  a  dominant  place  in  the  aflairs  of 

Bulgaria.  •  ■    n 

The  wisdom  and  the  morality  of  Bismarck's  deal  of  1887  with  Russia 
have  bcen  the  subjects  of  lengthy  and  acrimonious  debate  in  the  world  of 
scholarship.  Germany  had  promised  in  1879  to  stand  on  the  side  lines  if 
Austria  should  attack  Russia.  Was  that  pledge  incompatible  with  Germany  s 
Obligation  to  f^ght  alongside  of  Austria  in  case  she  were  the  victim  of  a 
Russian  attack?  It  is  not  difficult  to  believe  that  the  arrangement  with  Russia 
was  diplomatic  behavior  on  the  grand  design,  for  so  long  as  Bismarck  kept 
in  friendly  contact  with  Russia  he  was  in  a  stronger  position  to  smooth  out 
Russo-Austrian  quarreis  to  the  advantage  of  peace.  Unless  it  be  assumed 
that  Austria  had  a  reasonable  right  to  ascendancy  in  Bulgaria,  one  must 
accept  the  verdict  of  Langer  that  "It  is  hard  to  see  how  he  [Bismarck]  can 
be  accused  of  having  betrayed  Austrian  interests."  " 


Austria  had  renewed  the  treaty  of  the  Triple  Alliance,  arranged  an 
entente  with  Britain,  and  broken  of!  the  diplomatic  tie  with  Russia,  but 
the  future  of  Bulgaria  still  hung  in  the  balances.  Russia  seemingly  held  a 
trump  Card  in  Bismarck's  pledge  of  support  in  Bulgaria;  how  useful  that 
was  the  event  would  presently  show. 

In  July  of  1887,  the  Bulgarian  assembly  chose  as  ruler  Prlnce  Ferdinand 
of  Saxe-Coburg,  anothcr  young,  inexperienced,  and  headstrong  individual, 
to  whom  time  was  to  assign  the  epithct  of  "The  Fox."  He  was  the  owncr 
of  a  large  estate  in  Hungary  and  held  a  lieutenancy  in  an  Austrian  rcgimcnt, 
which  he  was  obliged  to  resign  before  accepting  the  Bulgarian  princedom; 
Austrian  agents  probably  had  a  good  deal  to  do  with  his  selection  as  prince. 
In  any  case  it  was  not  unnatural,  despite  Kalnoky's  disdaimers,  for  Russia 
to  look  upon  Ferdinand  as  Austria's  man,  and  Russia  complained  vehemently 
against  his  election.  But  a  Russian  appeal  to  Bismarck  to  have  Austria  oppose 
Prince  Ferdinand  feil  on  stony  ground.  Wherefore,  Russia  took  Steps  look- 
ing  to  the  expulsion  o£  the  Hapsburg  puppet  from  Sofia  by  force;  gcneral 


V 
kV 


\ 


\ 


preparations  for  war  were  speeded  up,  and  more  soldiers  were  posted  along 

the  Galician  border. 

In  high  Vicnna  quarters  it  appeared  as  though  an  armed  clash  was  now 
unavoidable,  and  Austria  sought  definile  assurances  of  German  help.  Bis- 
marck, however,  held  back  until  rumors  reached  Berlin  that  tsarist  troops 
were  being  mobilized  in  the  vicinity  of  Prussian  Poland;  then  he  applied 
ihe  financial  brake  to  the  Muscovite  war  chariot  by  making  it  impossible 
for  Russia  to  borrow  funds  in  the  Berlin  money  market.  That  revelation  of 
Cermany's  attitude  had  a  dampening  cffect  upon  Russian  military  ardor. 
Nevertheless,  prominent  Russians  delivcred  bellicose  speeches,  and  army  con- 
centrations  close  to  Galicia  went  on  apace;  certain  German  officials  conjec- 
tured  that  Russia  would  pounce  upon  Austria  in  the  spring  of  1888.  Bismarck 
admonished  Austria  to  prepare  for  an  auack,  while  avoiding  any  move  that 
might  legitimately  cause  provocation  in  St.  Petersburg. 

On  the  assumption  that  war  was  in  the  offing,  Austria  tried  to  arrange 
with  Germany  on  the  way  in  which  the  troops  of  the  two  countries  should 
be  employcd.  The  patriarchal  war  hawk,  Archduke  Albrcchl,  approvcd  a 
plan  for  a  Joint  Austro-German  preventivc  war  on  Russia,  but  the  Hapsburg 
()olitical  authorities  scorned  it,  for  Bismarck  kept  dinning  in  their  ears  that 
Germany  would  fight  only  if  Russia  was  the  attacker.  Military  chiefs  of 
Austria  and  Germany  conferred,  it  is  true,  on  plans  of  campaign,  without, 
however,  reaching  positive  conclusions.  Nothing  was  clearer  than  that  Ger- 
many was  unwilling  to  pull  Austrian  chcstnuts  out  of  the  Balkan  fire. 

In  spite  of  military  preparations  the  Vienna  cabinet  seems  to  have  been 
averse  to  taking  the  initiative  for  war.  Prime  Minister  Tisza  declared  to  the 
Hungarian  parliament  that  ahhough  ihc  Monarchy  was  in  shape  to  deal 
with  any  emergency,  it  desired  ncithcr  extension  of  influcnce  "nor  increase 
of  territory,  as  had  been  falsely  ascribcd  to  us  .  .  .  We  desire  foremost  of 
all  die  prcservation  of  peace."  At  the  cnd  of  the  year  Russia,  too,  displayed 
a  Icss  bellicose  tone,  her  ambassador  in  Vienna  asserting  that  his  country  had 
no  inlention  of  warring  upon  Austria  nor  even  of  resorting  to  force  in  order 
to  cstablish  its  ascendancy  in  Bulgaria.  War  fever  was  further  reduced  in 
Fcbruary  of  1888  when  Bismarck  causcd  the  terms  of  the  Austro-German 
alliance  to  bc  published.  All  the  world  ihen  knew  that  Germany  was  bound 
to  fight  Russia,  if  that  power  should  aiiack  Austria.  The  disclosure  had  a 
sobering  effcct  upon  warmongers  in  both  St.  Petersburg  and  Vienna. 

By  April  1888,  the  clouds  of  war  which  had  hung  so  low  over  Europe 
had  largely  been  dispelled.  The  Vienna  stock  market,  invariably  a  reliable 
baromcter  on  the  State  of  the  international  weather,  boomed  in  a  way  remi- 
niscent  of  the  early  seventies,  and  the  prcss  began  to  speak  of  Francis  Joseph 
as  the  "peace  emperor." 

üncc  more,  as  in  1878,  the  "old  diplomacy"  had  succeeded  in  keeping 


■>. 


V'': 


316 


» 


THE    HAPSBURG    MONARCHY 


tic  piece,  was  written  with  fervor  and  in  a  highly  florid  fashion.  Otto 
Hauser  in  his  1848  depicted  the  German-speaking  populace  locked  in  mor- 
tal  combat  with  their  South  Slav  fellows. 

The  provincial  tale  in  the  Tyrol  had  its  most  perfect  expression  in  the 
work  of  Adolf  Pichler,  a  geologist  by  profession,  the  author  of  Tales  of  the 
Tyrol,  and  of  Karl  Schönherr,  who  mingled  quaint  sentimentality  with 
ruthless  realism  after  the  manner  of  Anzengruber.  One  of  his  comedies, 
The  Barth,  was  focused  upon  a  peasant  custom  that  regarded  the  father  as 
master  of  the  household  until  the  eldest  son  married  and  took  over  authority. 
Belief  and  Home,  which  was  almost  a  tract  for  religious  tolerance,  was  set 
in  the  era  of  the  Reformation  when  Tyrolese  Protestants  were  commanded 
to  abjure  the  new  religious  teaching  or  be  expelled  from  their  homes.  But 
many  peasants  chose  to  perish  rather  than  give  up  Luther's  Bible. 

For  the  soil  and  towns  of  Galicia  there  were  the  warm  and  moving 
Galician  Tales  and  Jewish  Tales  of  Count  Leopold  von  Sacher-Masoch,  who 
was  spoken  of  as  the  Galician  Turgenev.  The  leading  poet  of  the  ghetto  was 
K.  E.  Franzos,  a  Jew  with  a  Western  outlook,  who  extolled  the  superiority 
of  German  culture  over  Polish. 

Folkways  among  the  Germans  of  Bohemia  were  gracefully  presented  in 
the  novels  of  Adalbert  Stifter.  His  Indian  Summer  was  judged  by  some 
critics  to  be  one  of  the  most  beautiful  pieces  of  prose  in  the  German  lan- 
guage,  and  Witi/{o,  a  leisurely  historical  romance,  was  much  prized.  The 
work  of  a  native  of  the  Bohemian  forest  and  a  devout  Catholic,  Stifter's 
fiction  reflected  the  sobriety  and  simplicity  of  his  environment  and  the  ccr- 
titudes  of  his  religion;  trivial,  everyday  commonplaces  were  etched  into  a 
background  of  highland  forest  and  lowland  heath.  As  documents  of  social 
history  the  writings  of  Stifter  have  unique  value. 

Out  of  Bohemia,  too,  came  one  of  the  most  powerful  pacifist  tracts  of  the 
Century,  Baroness  Bertha  Suttner's  iMy  Down  Your  Arms  (1889),  which 
was  in  the  form  of  a  German  nobleman's  Journal  and  recounted  in  vivid 
and  realistic  language  the  personal  experiences  and  tragic  sufTerings  of  one 
who  lived  through  the  wars  of  German  unification.  It  is  indeed  a  long  scr- 
mon  on  the  kind  of  pacifism  that  rested  its  case  on  ethical  and  humanitarian 
considerations.  Suttner,  whose  father  was  a  field  marshal,  was  the  first  Presi- 
dent of  the  Austrian  peace  society,  editor  of  a  pacifist  magazine,  and  Nobel 
prize  winner.  Among  others  whom  she  befriended  was  Alfred  H.  Fried,  a 
tireless  and  persuasive  preacher  of  international  peace  in  German  Europe.^ 

IV 

Austro-German  contributions  to  exact  scholarship  may  first  of  all  be 
illustrated  by  the  historians  of  distinction.  A  landmark  in  Austrian  scien- 
tific historiography   was  the  founding  of  the   Historical   Institute  at   the 


1 


I 


AUSTRIA:    KULTUR   UND    STURM    1893-1899  317 

t 

University  of  Vienna  in  1855  by  the  Tyrolese  scholar,  A.  Jager.  Theodor 
Sickl,  who  followed  him  as  director  in  1869,  devoted  himself  to  discover- 
ing  and  editing  medieval  documents  from  Austrian  and  Italian  sources. 
From  his  seminar  and  that  of  Fickler  at  Innsbruck,  a  specialist  in  medieval 
law  and  institutions,  emerged  a  set  of  top-rank  historical  investigators,  some 
of  whom  moved  on  to  Germany. 

At  the  time  that  the  Historical  Institute  was  starting  its  memorable  ca- 
reer,  the  Austrian  government  relaxcd  the  censorship  and  adopted  a  more 
gcnerous  policy  with  regard  to  the  study  of  the  rieh  manuscript  resources 
concentrated  in  Vienna.  A  pioneer  in  applying  the  scientific  approach  to 
the  study  of  the  past  was  Alfred  Arncth,^  who  as  custodian  of  the  imperial 
archivcs  after  1868  had  a  unique  opportunity  to  exploit  original  State  docu- 
ments. Already  he  had  eulogized  the  House  of  Hapsburg  in  an  elaborate 
biography  of  Prince  Eugene  of  Savoy  (3  vols.,  1858),  the  dashing  cavalier 
of  the  eightcenth  Century  who  had  done  so  much  to  revive  the  drooping 
prestige  of  the  imperial  dynasty.  In  tcn  wcighty  volumes,  the  History  of 
Maria  Theresa  (i  863-1 879),  Arncth  prcscntcd  a  vast  array  of  original  mate- 
rials  looscly  strung  together;  much  Icss  a  biography  of  the  energetic  em- 
prcss  than  an  encyclopedia  of  her  limcs,  this  monumental  work  is  indis- 
pensable for  an  understanding  of  the  politics  of  Europe  in  the  eighteenth 
ccfitury.  Into  it  was  woven  an  illuminating  portrait  of  Emperor  Joseph  II, 
a  man  whose  broad  outlook  was  congenial  to  Arneth's  own  moderately 
liberal  convictions.  As  an  archivist,  Arncth  introduced  methods  that  were 
copied  in  other  historical  treasure  hoiiscs,  and  his  innovations  were  perpetu- 
ated  in  Vienna  by  a  line  of  admirablc  successors  in  the  ofHce  of  director  of 
the  State  rccords. 

Overshadowcd  though  they  were  by  historians  in  Germany,  Austro- 
Gcrman  scholars  added  not  insignificantly  to  the  stock  of  historical  learning. 
A  History  of  Italy  in  the  Middle  Ages,  by  Ludo  M.  Hartmann,  dealt  in  an  en- 
lightcning  manner  with  economic  and  social  affairs,  and  skillfully  revealed 
the  important  impact  of  medieval  Italy  upon  German  life.  In  dramatic  prose, 
Heinrich  Kretschmayer  composed  a  History  of  Venice,  which  adequately 
eniphasizcd  the  economic  and  cultural  cvolution  of  the  "Queen  of  the  Adri- 
atic."  Ludwig  von  Pastor*s  massive  History  of  the  Popes  cast  fresh  light  on 
the  Reformation  era  from  the  inexhaustible  resources  of  the  Vatican  library; 
though  sympathetic  to  the  papacy,  it  was  a  singularly  balanced  study,  and 
an  invaluable  one.  Onno  Klopp  in  studies  on  the  seventeenth  Century  vigor- 
ously  defended  the  politics  of  the  Hapsburgs  in  the  early  phases  of  the 
Thirty  Years'  War;  his  History  of  the  Fall  of  the  House  of  Stuart  displaycd 
greater  erudition  on  Continental  afTairs  than  on  England.  Francis  Krones,  in 
a  Handboof{  of  Austrian  History,  broke  new  ground  by  showing  the  influ- 
cnce  of  geography  and  ethnic  factors  upon  political  development,  and  Au- 


336 


THE    HAPSBURG    MONARCHY 


A    LEAP    IN    THE    DARK 


337 


dustrial  Output  in  1912  being  reported  about  50  per  cent  ahead  of  a  decade 
earlier;  factories  in  Bohemia  increased  faster  than  the  supply  of  skilled 
workmen. 

III 

Order  prevailed  in  parliament  until  irrepressible  Czech  deputies  sounded 
the  national  trumpet  anew.  Pan-Germans  answered  in  kind,  again  legislative 
activity  stopped,  and  the  conduct  of  government  by  imperial  decree  was  re- 
vived.^  The  price  of  peace  which  the  Czechs  enumerated  in  1903  included  a 
federal  regime  for  the  empire,  equality  of  the  Czech  and  German  languages 
in  central  administrative  bureaus  and  in  State  offices  in  Bohemia  and  Mo- 
ravia,  democratization  of  the  franchise,  and  a  Czech  university  in  Moravia. 
That  set  of  demands  merely  brought  the  thinking  of  Czech  autonomists  up 
to  date. 

Many  of  the  provincial  diets,  too,  were  paralyzed  by  nationalistic  squab- 
bles.  Germans  filibustered  in  Bohemia,  Slovenes  in  Styria,  Italians  in  the 
Tyrol,  Italians  and  Slovenes  vied  with  one  another  in  obstructing  the  diet 
of  Istria,  and  Ruthenians  withdrew  in  hot  anger  from  the  Galician  assembly. 
Eastern  Galicia  in  1902,  as  four  years  earlier,  was  harassed  by  bloody  clashes 
between  soil  people  and  magnates  or  workers  imported  as  strikebreakers. 
Battlcs  of  students  at  Lemberg  mirrored  the  high  tension  that  prevailed  in 
the  province.  The  Polish  ruling  class  would  not  hear  of  a  separate  Ruthenian 
university,  though  appropriations  were  voted  for  a  Ruthenian  theater  and  an 
additional  secondary  school. 

The  desire  for  a  national  university  stood  high  on  the  demands  of  Ru- 
thenian, Italian,  and  Slovene  minorities.  Only  in  such  an  institution  could 
national  cultures  be  properly  cultivated  and  men  obtain  in  their  mother 
tongue  the  education  that  was  prerequisite  for  important  government  posts. 
Austrian  subjects  of  Italian  speech  had  attended  the  University  of  Padua 
until  1866,  when  Venetia  was  ceded  to  Italy;  then  some  courscs  for  Italians 
were  offered  at  Innsbruck,  but  friction  between  students  and  Gcrman- 
speaking  townsmen  was  unending.  Spokesmen  of  Italians  asked  for  an  inde- 
pendent  university  at  Trieste,  but  that  request  was  vetoed  in  Vienna,  on  the 
score  that  it  would  surely  degenerate  into  a  hotbed  of  Irredentism  and  would 
intensify  the  clamor  of  other  minorities  for  separate  universities.  Instead, 
the  ministry  of  Koerber  proposed  that  a  distinctly  Italian  faculty  of  law 
should  be  established  at  Innsbruck. 

That  plan  was  actually  carried  out  but  when  the  institution  opened 
(1904)  Germans  and  Italian  students  clashed  and  a  German  was  killcd.  The 
excitement  raced  into  sections  of  the  Tyrol  where  Italians  lived,  and  some 
property  was  destroyed  before  troops  restored  order.  Italians  everywhere  in- 
terpreted  the  episode  as  fresh  evidence  that  Austro-Germans  rcgardcd  them 


(i 

i 


* 


I 


as  undcsirable  intruders;  the  Irredentist  cause  was  quickened  and  Italian 
deputies  in  the  diet  of  the  Tyrol  invokcd  the  weapon  of  obstruction. 

German  spokesmen  in  the  Austrian  parliament  charged  the  Koerber 
ministry  with  responsibility  for  the  mclancholy  events  in  Innsbruck  and  de- 
mandcd  its  resignation.  Physically  worn  down  by  his  unenviable  responsi- 
bilitics  and  defeated  on  a  minor  fiscal  measure,  Koerber  retired  at  the  end 
of  1904. 

IV 

Prolongcd  political  turmoil  strcngthcned  the  conviction  that  domestic 
iranquillity  could  be  achieved,  if  indccd  it  could  be  achieved  at  all,  only  by 
a  gcnuinely  dcmocratic  franchise.  Social  Democrats,  for  example,  incessantly 
declaimcd  against  the  mere  sop  thrown  to  democracy  by  the  creation  of  a 
fifth  electoral  curia  in  1897.  Dircct  and  equal  manhood  suffrage,  the  able 
Socialist  thinker  Karl  Renner  urgcd,  would  prove  a  powerful  counterweight 
to  national  antagonisms  for  in  that  way  the  political  power  of  the  poorcr 
classcs  would  be  greatly  increased,  and  these  elements  were  favorably  dis- 
poscd  to  the  preservation  of  the  empire  and  interested  in  social-welfare 
legislation,  while  the  bourgeoisie  were  immersed  in  the  special  interests  of 
their  particular  nationalities.* 

Renner's  conception  of  a  parliament  divided  along  horizontal  and  class 
lines  instead  of  vertical  national  groupings  won  considerable  acceptance  out- 
side  of  Socialist  ranks.  Cheek  to  jowl  with  the  Social  Democrats  on  the  fran- 
chise  issue  were  the  Christian  Socialists  and  the  Czechs.  The  threat  to  intro- 
duce  democratic  suffrage  in  Hungary  in  order  to  break  a  deadlock  there  be- 
tween crown  and  parliament,  the  revolutionary  upheaval  of  1905  in  Russia, 
and  the  news  that  a  Russian  parliament  (duma)  would  be  elected  on  a  broad 
franchise  aided  the  cause  of  political  democracy  in  Austria.  Victory  was  vir- 
tually  assured  when,  in  November  of  1905,  Francis  Joseph,  profoundly 
moved  by  the  implications  of  the  Russian  revolution,  and  in  the  belicf  that 
the  alchemy  of  political  democracy  would  somehow  soften  the  nationality 
conflicts,  ex{)ressed  his  approval  of  franchise  reform. 

The  task  of  formulating  an  equal-suffrage  bill  feil  to  the  cabinet  of 
Baron  von  Gautsch,  the  emperor*s  "public  Utility'*  man,  who  had  repeatedly 
bobbed  up  in  the  ministerial  kalcidoscope.  Favorably  regarded  by  Czech 
politicians,  who  quit  their  obstructionist  tactics  on  his  nomination,  Gautsch 
contrived  to  secure  parliamentary  ratification  of  a  new  military  recruitment 
law,  an  economic  arrangement  with  Hungary,  and  foreign-trade  and  tariff 
treatics.  While  the  premier  personally  shared  the  conservative  apprehension 
that  dcmocratic  suffrage  would  inevitably  bring  on  the  ruin  of  the  realm,  he 
bowed  to  the  wishes  of  the  sovereign  in  the  matter. 

On  the  day  that  parliament  convcncd  to  consider  the  franchise  question, 


In  the  Speech  from  the  throne  welcoming  the  new  parliament,  it  was  cx- 
plained  that  the  crown  expectcd  ordcrly  transaction  of  Business  and  the  pas- 
sage  of  much-needed  social  and  economic  legislation,  now  that  the  sufTrage 
had  been  democratized.  A  reconstructed  Beck  ministry  secured  approval  of 
the  purchase  of  the  Bohemian  Northern  railway  and  of  a  measure  ratifying 
a  new  economic  arrangement  with  Hungary,  which  raised  the  Hungarian 
contribution  to  the  Joint  expenditures  of  the  Monarchy  and  defined  the 
customs  agreement  between  the  two  partners  as  a  treaty. 

Parhamentary  waters  were  churned  up  by  the  Wahrmund  aflair  which 
brought  the  issues  of  clericalism  and  academic  hberty  to  the  fore.  Clcrically 
minded  men  had  long  inveighed  against  the  prevalence  of  unorthodox  tend- 
encies  in  the  universities  of  the  cmpire.  Lueger,  for  instance,  in  an  address 
of  November  1907,  denounced  the  universities  as  "hotbeds  of  subversive 
ideas,  revolution,  godlessness,  and  antipatriotism.'*  Presently  Wahrmund, 
Professor  at  Innsbruck,  who  had  for  years  battled  against  the  clerical  spirit, 
published  a  pamphlet,  The  Catholic  Attitüde  and  Free  Learning,  arguing 
that  an  unbridgeable  chasm  separated  Catholic  orthodoxy  from  contempo- 
rary  scholarship. 

Infuriated  Catholics  demanded  the  dismissal  of  Wahrmund,  and  the 
papal  nuncio  joined  in  the  cry,  for  which  he  was  sternly  reprifnanded  by  the 
Austrian  foreign  office.  The  offending  professor,  nonetheless,  was  forced 
from  bis  chair  and  the  offensive  brochure  was  confiscated.  Thereupon  Stu- 
dent friends  and  foes  of  Wahrmund  clashed  violently  at  Innsbruck,  causing 
the  Suspension  of  lectures;  students  at  other  institutions  who  admired 
Wahrmund  laid  aside  their  books.  Deputies  in  parliament  took  sides  on  the 
case,  the  Czech  scholar  Masaryk  dcHvering  a  memorable  plea  for  academic 
freedom.  State  authorities  poured  oil  on  the  troubled  waters  with  assurances 
that  freedom  of  inquiry  would  not  be  further  infringed,  and  Wahrmund 
was  assigned  a  post  in  the  German  university  of  Prague,  which  he  filled  to 
his  death  in  1932.  , 

In  Moravia,  meanwhile,  real  progress  had  been  achieved  in  mitigating 
German-Czech  animosities.  By  action  of  the  diet  in  1905,  seats  in  the  pro- 
vincial  legislature  were  distributed  closely  in  keeping  with  the  comparative 
numbers  of  each  national  group;  and  for  certain  kinds  of  legislation  the 
concurrence  of  two-thirds  of  the  representatives  was  prescribed.  Local  civil 
servants  would  be  chosen  from  the  two  nationalities  in  the  same  proportions 
as  assemblymen,  and  local  areas  would  themselves  determine  the  language 
to  be  spoken  by  civil  servants.  That  accommodation  generated  a  better  temper 
in  Moravia  and  demonstrated  that  the  highly  combustible  national  issuc 


would  yicld  to  iicaimcni  Ji  an  aiiiuidL  oi  modcKUu^ii  ani*    i  ...ju. ..^  ^^ic 

vailed  in  both  camps.^ 

It  was  hoped  in  Viennese  ministerial  circles  that  a  comparable  formula 
might  be  discovered  for  Bohemia,  where,  of  course,  national  antagonisms 
were  much  more  bitter  than  in  Moravia.  Moderate  Czechs  and  Germans 
seemed  not  far  apart,  were  separated  merely  by  "a  wall  as  thin  as  paper,**  as 
an  optimistic  current  phrase  ran.  But  to  rupture  the  paper  proved  impossible; 
the  ancient  feud  proceeded  briskly.  Again  the  Bohemian  diet  was  dissolved, 
again  Prague  witnessed  disorders  and  street  battles  and  Czech  deputies  in 
Vienna    withdrew   their    support   from    the    Beck    ministry,    which    soon 

folded  up. 

Relations  between  Poles  and  Ruthenian  intellectuals  in  Galicia,  mean- 
while, showed  no  sign  of  betterment,  rather  grew  more  embittered  as  the 
Ruthenian  educated  class  clamored  for  cquality  of  rights  for  their  country- 
men.  High  hopes  that  Ruthenian  leaders  cherished  while  the  universal- 
suffrage  law  was  under  debate  were  dashed  to  the  earth  when  the  final  act 
discriminated  against  them  and  in  favor  of  their  Polish  adversaries.  Despite 
official  pressure  in  the  election  of  1907,  twenty-two  Ukrainophiles  and  five 
Russophiles  were  returned  to  the  reichsrat. 

These  deputies  declaimed  in  Vienna  against  Polish  oppression  and  up- 
braided  the  ministry  for  refusal  to  authorize  a  separate  Ruthenian  university 
in  Lemberg  or  to  organize  an  autonomous  Ukrainian  province.  And  to 
emphasize  their  discontent  they  had  no  hesitancy  in  indulging  in  obstruc- 
tion,  wildly  singing  a  national  anthem:  "The  time  has  gone  for  serving 
Muscovite  or  Pole."  One  deputy  who  tried  to  deliver  a  speech  in  Russian 
was  silenced  by  the  reichsrat's  president;  another  wrenched  the  top  off  his 
desk,  intending  to  hurl  it  at  the  executive,  but  his  aim  was  bad  and  he 
Struck  and  seriously  injurcd  a  Slovene  deputy. 

Within  Galicia  itself,  Ruthenian  malignity  was  concentrated  on  Count 
Andrew  Potocki,  who  had  assumed  the  governorship  in  1903.  A  genial  Pol- 
ish nobleman,  Potocki  was  firmly  convinced  that  the  Ruthenians  must  be 
kept  in  leash.  As  governor,  he  vetoed  an  application  for  a  Ruthenian  savings 
bank,  ordered  the  dissolution  of  Ruthenian  clubs,  restricted  the  migration 
of  seasonal  farm  workers  to  Germany,  and  winkcd  at  terrorism  in  elections. 
Ruthenian    deputies   in    Vienna   clamored    in    vain   for   the   dismissal   of 

Potocki. 

Matters  took  a  turn  for  the  worse  early  in  1908,  when  Polish  police  by 
their  brutality  caused  the  death  of  a  Ruthenian  peasant,  Kahanets.  There- 
upon a  Ukrainophile  Student  at  Lemberg,  Miroslav  Sichinsky,  assassinated 
Potocki,  shouting  as  he  did  so,  "For  the  wrongs  done  to  the  Ukrainian 
people,  for  the  elections,  for  the  death  of  Kahanets."  At  his  trial  Sichinsky 
expressed  regret  for  the  murder  but  insisted  that  a  deed  of  violence  was 


1 


342 


THE    HAPSBURG    MONARCHY 


necessary  to  call  universal  attention  to  the  malevolence  of  the  Polish  admin- 
istration  and  the  terrible  plight  of  the  downtrodden  Ruthenians.  His  attorney 
pleaded  that  the  culprit  should  be  judged  in  the  light  of  the  fierce  national 
antagonisms  in  Galicia.  Sentenced  to  prison,  Sichinsky  escaped  and  con- 
trived  to  reach  the  United  States,  where  he  became  an  active  leader  among 
Ukrainians,  who  hailed  him  as  a  selfless  patriotic  hero,  worthy  of  high 
praise.^ 

International  complications  soon  diverted  attention  from  the  domestic 
politics  of  Austria.  The  annexation  of  Bosnia,  proclaimed  in  October  of  1908, 
provoked  sharp  differences  of  opinion,  recalling  the  cleavage  in  1878  when 
Hapsburg  armies  had  marched  into  and  occupied  Bosnia.  Premier  Beck 
thought  annexation  imprudent,  which  infuriated  the  heir  presumptive, 
Francis  Ferdinand,  previously  a  devoted  admirer  of  Beck,  who  was  once 
his  tutor.  Many  Czech  and  Christian  SociaHst  deputies  had  fallen  out  with 
the  prime  minister,  which  gravely  undermined  his  parliamentary  position. 
When  the  dangerous  crisis  over  Bosnia  was  nearing  a  climax,  Beck  resigned, 
having  learned  in  the  rough  school  of  experience,  as  had  his  predecessors, 
that  the  job  of  managing  heterogeneous  Austria  demanded  almost  super- 
human faculties. 


^    CHAPTER     FIFTEEN     IJ! 


DUALISM   IN   CRISIS:   HUNGARY 

1890-1910 


Lue  relatively  long  period  of  hungarian  ministerial 
s!ability  associatcd  with  the  namc  of  C>)loman  Tisza  was  succeeded  by  an 
cra  of  short-lived  cabinets.  Upon  Tisza's  withdrawal,  his  finance  minister, 
Julius  Szapary,  became  prime  minister,  promising  to  carry  forward  the  "Gen- 
cral's"  policies.  Hungary  soon  found  iisclf  in  the  throes  of  a  Kulturkampf 
arising  directly  from  marital  questions,  hut  involving  the  wider  issues  of 
rcligious  freedom  and  the  authority  of  Catholicism  in  the  secular  sphere. 

Conlrovcrsy  over  mixed  marriagcs,  that  is,  of  unions  between  persons  of 
(lifTcrcnt  Christian  faiths,  had  its  roots  dcep  in  Hungary 's  past.  Until  1791 
such  marriagcs  had  been  unlawful,  hut  an  act  of  that  year  declared  them 
valid.  Priests  of  the  Roman  Catholic  faiih,  however,  refused  to  solemnize 
niixcd  marriagcs  unless  the  parties  promised  to  raise  their  children  in  the 
Catholic  faith.  Louis  Kossuth,  for  examplc,  a  Lutheran  engaged  to  a  Catho- 
lic, was  marricd  by  the  Lutheran  ritual  after  a  priest  declined  to  perform 
the  ceremony  without  a  formal  pledge  respecting  the  religion  of  the  children. 
Under  pressure,  the  Hungarian  parliamcnt  enacted  a  law  (1868)  requiring 
the  ollspring  of  mixed  marriages  to  follow  the  faith  of  the  parent  whose  sex 
was  inheritcd.  But  Catholic  clergy  willfully  evaded  the  law,  appealing  alike 
to  the  dictates  of  their  conscience  and  the  holy  ordinances  of  their  church. 
Whcrever  possible  they  baptized  all  children  of  mixed  unions,  entering 
their  names  on  Catholic  registries;  the  imposition  of  heavy  fines  was  no  de- 
tcrrent  to  clerical  zeal. 

That  bit  of  history  formed  the  background  (or  part  of  it)  for  demands 
that  all  births  should  bc  recorded  by  State  authorities  and  that  civil  oflicials 


432 


THE    HAPSBURG    MONARCHY 


AUSTRIA    ON    THE    EVE 


4)3 


livcs.* "  They  professed  allegiance  to  the  Hapsburg  sovereign.  "If  our  Tsizar 
[emperor]  knew  what  was  going  on  he  would  soon  put  matters  right,"  the 
countryfolk  told  Birkbeck. 

At  St.  Petersburg  in  1913,  the  Galician  Benevolent  Society,  founded  to 
propagate  RussophiUsm  in  Galicia,  held  a  Conference,  with  Russian  prelates 
and  both  Russian  and  Ruthenian  poHticians  and  inteilectuals  in  attendance. 
Count  Vladimir  Bobrinsky,  the  director  of  the  society,  welcomed  the  Ru- 
thenians  as  brothers  and  lauded  them  for  their  constancy  and  fortitude  in 
the  face  of  severe  oppression  and  persecution.  **We  Russians,"  he  exclaimed, 
"can  profit  by  the  example  you  are  setting  in  your  fierce  struggle  for  the 
Orthodox  faith  and  Russian  culture."  Asserting  that  the  society  pursued 
only  cultural  and  not  political  aims,  Bobrinsky  appealed  for  closer  ties  be- 
tween  Ruthenians  and  Russians,  a  plea  to  which  the  delegates  from  the 
Hapsburg  Monarchy  heartiiy  assented.  A  chorus  entertained  the  delegates 
with  a  prayer  to  St.  Peter  imploring  him  to  release  Galicia  from  the  alien 
yoke.  And  a  few  months  later  Russophile  Ruthenians  at  a  meeting  in  Lem- 
berg  adopted  resolutions  of  gratitude  to  Russia  for  solicitude  on  bchalf  of 
the  poor  brothers  in  the  realm  of  the  Hapsburgs. 

Not  long  afterward  Austrian  and  Hungarian  police  arrested  scores  of 
Russophile  Ruthenians,  priests  and  peasants,  on  charges  of  high  treason,  of 
conspiring  to  unite  the  Ruthenian  areas  to  Russia.  All  the  accused  who  were 
Austrian  subjects  were  acquitted,  but  thirty-two  of  their  fellows  in  Hungary 
were  fined  and  imprisoned;  Austrian  officialdom,  it  was  clear,  regarded 
Russophilism  as  much  less  a  menace  than  it  was  considered  in  Hungary. 
Yct  the  authorities  flared  up  when  Sazonov,  the  Russian  foreign  minister, 
in  the  spring  of  1914,  spoke  in  a  threatening  tone  concerning  human  condi- 
tions  in  eastern  Galicia;  the  cabinet  in  Vienna  declared  that  it  would  brook 
no  external  interference  in  domestic  affairs  and  that  the  government  was 
concerned  to  better  the  lot  of  the  Ruthenians. 

IV 

Among  Austrian  Slavs,  in  the  meantime,  a  new  version  of  Slav  fraternity 
along  cultural  and  economic  lines  had  come  into  being,  under  the  title  of 
Neo-Slavism.  Sponsored  in  particular  by  the  Czech  Kramaf,  the  movement 
was  taken  up  and  popularized  by  other  Slav  politicians  and  inteilectuals. 
Kramär  proposed  that  economic  bonds  between  Austrian  Slavs  should  be 
knit  more  closely,  that  a  Slav  bank  should  be  organized,  that  a  Slav  com- 
mercial  fair  should  be  established  to  promote  the  sale  of  Slav-made  products, 
and  that  transportation  facilities  with  Russia  should  be  improved.  With  other 
Austro-Slav  deputies  he  visited  St.  Petersburg  early  in  1908  to  confer  on  the 
material  and  cultural  interests  of  Slavdom  with  prominent  Russians  and 
other  Slavs.  Hearty  approval  of  the  ideals  of  Neo-Slavism  was  expressed  at 


ij 


a  banquct  in  honor  of  the  Austrian  gucsts,  attendcd  by  the  ministers  of 
Tsar  Nicholas  II.  Publicists  of  the  day  remarked  that  the  spirit  of  Slav 
brotherhood  had  never  been  so  real  or  so  deep. 

At  Prague  in  July  of  1908,  represcntative  public  men  and  writers  from 
all  branches  of  Slavdom,  except  the  Ukrainians  but  including  Poles,  assem- 
blcd  for  the  first  of  a  series  of  annual  Nco-Slav  Conferences.  Discussions  and 
resolutions  dcalt  with  KramäFs  economic  schemes,  the  exchange  of  visits 
between  Slavs  of  difTerent  countries,  and  the  formation  of  a  permanent  in- 
ternational Slav  committee.  EfTorts  were  made  to  foster  better  feelings 
between  the  Czechs  and  the  Austrian  Poles  and  to  heal  the  old  feud  between 
Poles  and  Russians,  without  however  producing  anything  concrete.  It  is 
claimed  that  in  secret  sessions  the  avowed  objectives  of  the  Neo-Slav  Confer- 
ence were  jettisoned  in  favor  of  purely  political  aims,  that  it  was  decided 
that  the  Austrian  Slavs  should  coöperatc  to  achieve  Slav  dominance  in  the 
Hapsburg  Monarchy,  and  that  in  the  event  of  a  general  European  war  the 
Slavs  should  rebel  against  the  Triple  Alliance.* 

The  inability  of  Russia  to  block  the  Austrian  annexation  of  Bosnia  and 
the  studied  repression  of  Polish  subjects  persuaded  Kramaf  that  the  Austrian 
Slavs  must  take  leadership  in  Slavdom.  That  theme  he  expounded  in  a 
reichsrat  address,  remarking  that  "it  is  lucky  that  Russia  can  find  in  the 
West  a  bulwark  of  Slavdom"  against  the  German  menace.  At  another  con- 
clave  of  Neo-Slavism,  held  at  Sofia  in  1910,  Balkan  political  questions  were 
canvassed  in  secret  and  a  common  Slav  policy  was  considered,  though  prob- 
ably  not  actually  agreed  upon.*^ 

Thousands  of  Slav  gymnasts  participated  in  an  international  Sokol  car- 
nival  at  Prague  in  191 2.  Disapproval  of  Hapsburg  foreign  policies  and  fra- 
ternal  sympathy  for  the  Yugoslavs  were  freely  expressed.  Athletes  and 
spectators  joined  lustily  in  an  Inter-Slavonic  anthem,  Hei  Slovane,  which 
contained  such  sentiments  as  "Thunder  and  lightning,  thunder  and  light- 
ning,  the  Russians  are  with  us,  and  those  who  withstand  them,  the  French 
will  swcep  away,"  and  "The  Slavs  shall  never  perish  even  though  the  num- 
ber  of  Germans  equals  the  number  of  souls  in  hell."  To  Kramaf  an  English 
Journalist  commented:  "These  are  not  gymnasts;  they  are  an  army."  "Yes," 
the  Czech  chieftain  responded,  "with  j)roper  weapons  they  would  count  in  a 
European  war."**  That  cultural  Neo-Slavism  was  a  sort  of  veneer  on  old- 
fashioned  political  Pan-Slavism  was  suggested  in  1914  when  Kramaf  pro- 
posed to  Nicholas  II  that  the  kingdoms  of  Bohemia  and  Poland  should  be 
governed  by  Russian  grand  dukes  as  parts  of  a  huge  Slav  state.^ 

In  Bohemia,  meanwhile,  an  authoritarian  regime  had  been  set  up  to 
administer  provincial  aflairs.  Since  the  storms  of  1908  the  assembly  had  been 
whoUy  ineflectual,  owing  to  German  filibustering;  local  finance  had  become 
chaotic,  and  the  provincial  scene  was  darkened  by  unemployment  and  indus- 


472 


THE    HAPSBURG    MONARCHY 


of  policy.  Still  thc  Wilhelmstrasse  believed  that  in  case  of  war  thc  worst 
that  Rumania  would  do  would  be  to  remain  neutral;  active  military  Co- 
operation Vvith  Russia  seemed  beyond  the  ränge  of  probability. 

As  a  natural  and  adequate  counterpoise  to  the  set  of  Balkan  states  that 
had  gravitated  into  the  Russian  orbit,  Austria  strove  to  build  up  a  Bulgar- 
Turkish  coalition.  Bulgaria,  however,  despite  bitterness  toward  her  neighbors, 
drew  back,  afraid  of  bcing  implicated  in  a  grave  Turkish  dispute  with  Grcece 
over  certain  Aegean  isles.  Vienna  pressed  upon  Berlin  the  value  of  an  alli- 
ance  with  Bulgaria,  but  the  Germans  could  not  be  moved,  holding  that  such 
an  alignment  would  irretrievably  alienate  Rumania  from  the  Triplice.  As 
the  Austrians  saw  it,  Rumania  had  for  practical  purposes  already  passed  into 
the  camp  of  the  common  enemy  and  Bulgaria,  as  an  ally,  would  compensate 
for  that  perfidy.  But  only  after  the  beginning  of  war  in  1914  and  the  Ruma- 
nian  declaration  of  neutrality  did  the  Germans  veer  round  to  the  Austrian 
views  concerning  Bulgaria. 


VHI 


No  one  in  the  Ballplatz  doubted  that  the  ultimate  cause  of  anxiety  over 
thc  Balkans  was  Russia.  The  tsardom  was  the  guardian  angel  of  the  Serbs 
and  utterly  distrusted  the  objectives  of  Hapsburg  diplomacy,  refusing  to 
believe  that  Austria  was  a  satiated  State  without  territorial  ambitions.  In  thc 
winter  of  1913  a  Russian  quarrel  with  Germany  over  the  sending  of  a  mili- 
tary mission  to  Constantinople  momentarily  diverted  Muscovite  hostility 
from  Vienna  to  Berlin,  for  it  was  suspected  that  Germany  was  angling  to 
obtain  mastcry  at  the  Straits  and  thus  forestall  Russian  aspirations  in  that 


area. 


Stories  in  the  Pan-Slav  press  of  Russia  on  the  formation  of  the  new 
Balkan  league  excited  grave  disquiet  in  Austria,  and  journalists  shouted 
violently  about  **the  Russian  peril."  Russian  Pan-Slavism,  commented  thc 
influential  Neue  Freie  Presse,  constantly  endangered  the  peace  of  Europe 
and  was  moving  heaven  and  earth  to  make  Russia  the  patron  and  protector 
in  one  form  or  another  of  every  Balkan  country.  Austrian  mistrust  of  Russia 
was  not  restricted  to  the  doings  of  Muscovite  diplomatists  in  the  Balkans. 
Mischief-making  propagandists  werc  sleeplessly  at  work  in  the  Slav  prov- 
inces  of  the  Monarchy,  particularly  among  the  Ruthenians,  sowing  seeds  of 
dissension;  but  the  cabinet  of  Vienna  preferred  not  to  complain  over  inci- 
dents  lest  tension  be  heightened  to  no  good  purpose.  Almost  daily,  episodes 
along  the  border  of  Galicia  provoked  acrid  press  comment,  and  animus 
toward  Russia  grew  with  the  arrest  of  Hapsburg  subjects  who  allegedly 
were  tools  of  the  tsardom.  Keen  apprehension  was  aroused  by  the  expansion 
of  Russian  armaments,  by  preparations  for  war  along  the  frontiers  of  the 


BEFORE    THE    WAR 


473 


Monarchy  and  of  Germany,  and  by  the  blatant  boasting  of  certain  Muscovite 
military  chieftains.^* 

With  Italy,  Austrian  relations  grew  so  straincd  in  the  spring  of  1914  that 
responsible  German  statesmen  expected  an  armed  clash.  Each  cabinet  sus- 
pected that  the  other  had  predatory  designs  upon  thc  new  creation,  Albania; 
rival  financial  houses  competed  for  the  dubious  privilege  of  equipping  the 
little  country  with  a  national  bank.  Sharp  cleavages  of  opinion  developed 
over  the  Austrian  claim  to  a  protectorate  over  the  Catholic  population  and 
over  the  actual  prerogatives  of  the  ruler,  Prince  William  of  Wied,  a  German 
prince  and  a  captain  in  the  German  army. 

Ignorant  of  Albania  and  the  people,  unschooled  in  the  devious  arts  of 
diplomacy,  the  Prince  had  only  grudgingly  accepted  the  crown  at  the  request 
of  Austria  and  Italy.  His  State  had  no  army,  no  administrative  System,  no 
tr^asury,  a  superabundance  of  politicians,  and  a  band  of  emigrants  returned 
from  the  United  States  with  acquired  notions  as  to  how  an  up-and-coming 
country  should  be  governed.  Shortly  aftcr  the  Prince  landed  in  his  adopted 
country  he  was  confronted  by  a  nativist  rebellion.  In  June  of  1914  the  "great 
press"  of  Vienna  teemed  with  stories  of  anarchy  in  Albania  and  with  earnest 
appeals  to  the  powers  to  intervene  and  restore  discipline,  for  disturbances 
anywhere  in  the  Balkans  had  a  nasty  habit  of  inspiring  convulsions  else- 
whcre.  For  Austria  and  Italy,  in  short,  Albania  was  another  Schleswig- 
Holstein;  each  foreign  office  jealously  and  suspiciously  watched  every  move 
the  other  made  and  took  appropriate  countermeasures. 

Yct,  despite  the  cleavage,  the  cabincts  kept  up  the  pretense  of  solidarity. 
At  the  conclusion  of  a  Conference  in  April  1914,  the  two  foreign  ministers 
issucd  a  Joint  communique  affirming  their  devotion  to  the  Triplice  and 
stating  that  both  governments  held  identical  view^  on  international  ques- 

17 

tions. 

It  was  not  possible  in  Austria  to  rcconcile  formal,  official  assertions  of 
friendship  with  fervent  anti-Hapsburg  outbursts  in  the  Italian  press,  in 
patriotic  societies,  and  in  the  broad  mass  of  the  population.  Well  has  it  been 
Said  that  "every  Italian  carried  in  his  heart  a  seed  of  Irredentism." 

Considerations  of  prestige  and  security  impelled  Austria  and  Germany 
to  hang  together  regardless  of  diflerenccs  on  particular  points.  For  them,  as 
for  the  nations  arrayed  in  the  Triplc  Entente,  union  brought  strength,  dis- 
unity  would  invite  destruction.  On  specific  Balkan  items  Vienna  and  Berlin 
stood  leagues  apart;  the  desire  of  Austria,  for  example,  to  attract  Bulgaria 
into  the  Triplice  fellowship  was  resisted  by  the  Wilhelmstrasse.  And,  although 
Germany  regarded  Greece  as  a  valuable  candidate  for  admission  to  the 
Triplice,  the  Ballplatz  distrusted  Greccc  because  it  coquetted  with  Serbia. 

Hesitantly  Berlin  had  come  round  to  the  thinking  of  Vienna  with  regard 
to  the  menace  of  the  Greater  Serb  idea  to  the  Hapsburg  Monarchy.  It  was 


484 


THE    HAPSBURG    MONARCHY 


Ordinate  Germans  to  Czechs  in  Bohemia  or  to  put  Ruthenians  on  a  parity 
with  Poles  would  have  thc  support  o£  Austro-German  or  Polish  public  men. 
And  the  thought  was  never  out  o£  the  mind  of  Hapsburg  policy  makcrs  that 
fcderalization  might  stinnulatc  secessionist  tendencics  among  Italians,  Ru- 
manians,  and  Yugoslavs,  at  least,  perhaps  among  Austro-Germans  as  well. 
Francis  Joseph  was  not  concerncd  in  his  latcr  years  with  questions  of  in- 
ternal reconstruction,  but  Francis  Ferdinand,  as  has  been  indicated,  was 
known  to  desire  thoroughgoing  changes,  though  in  precisely  what  direction 
must  remain  conjectural  until  his  private  papers  are  available  for  scholarly 
scrutiny.  It  is  almost  certain,  however,  that  he  intended  to  postpone  his 
coronation  as  king  o£  Hungary  until  the  Constitution  had  been  remodeled. 
Yet  many  Austrians  who  worked  with  him  have  doubted  whether  he  pos- 
sessed  the  resolution  to  carry  out  his  intentions  in  the  teeth  of  the  certain 
resistance  of  the  Magyars,  particularly  if  the  authorities  in  Berlin  abetted 
them.  In  any  case,  the  murder  of  the  Archduke  at  Sarajevo  in  June  of  1914 
dealt  a  staggering  blow  to  those  who  anticipated  that  his  accession  to  the 
throne  would  be  foUowed  by  a  "new  constitutional  deal"  in  the  old  Mon- 
archy. 

in 

Whether  without  the  Intervention  of  World  War  I  the  Hapsburg  Mon- 
archy  would  have  endured  much  longer  must  always  remain,  as  it  has  already 
been,  a  subject  of  lively  academic  speculation.  The  Hapsburg  institution,  likc 
others,  carried  within  it  the  seeds  of  its  own  destruction.  Nonetheless,  four 
terribly  wasting  years  of  war,  crowned  by  catastrophic  military  defeat  and 
accompanied  by  cruel  human  suflering  and  militant  Separatist  propaganda, 
were  required  to  bring  about  the  actual  dissolution  of  the  realm.  That  record 
in  itself  proves  that  the  seemingly  "unworkable  anachronism"  of  the  Haps- 
burgs  possessed  elements  of  toughness  and  vitality  which  the  clashing  na- 
tional disharmonies  tended  to  conceal  or  smother.  What  indeed  were  the 
sources  of  strength  of  the  venerable  Hapsburg  State,  what  the  forces  that 
combined  to  hold  the  congeries  of  Irelands  which  was  Austria-Hungary 

together? 

Palacky*s  oft-quoted  utterance  that  if  Austria  had  not  existed  it  would 
have  been  necessary  to  create  her  applied  with  peculiar  force  in  the  economic 
sphere/*  In  greater  or  lesser  degree,  all  Hapsburg  Citizens  benefited  from 
living  in  the  largest  free-trade  area  in  Europe  outside  of  Russia,  and  tariff 
protection  shielded  manufacturers  from  the  superior  industrial  establish- 
ments  of  Germany  and  Britain  and  guarded  agricultural  producers  from 
transatlantic,  Russian,  and  Balkan  competition.  The  maintenance  of  eco- 
nomic unity  under  dualism  was  possible  because  when  the  customs  union 
was  from  time  to  time  prolonged  Austria  almost  invariably  made  concessions 


■•  u 


REFORMATION    AND    SOURCES    OF    STRENGTH 


485 


!• 


(i 


to  Hungary — concessions  which  tended  to  work  to  the  injury  of  Austrian 
manufactures  and  were  of  advantage  to  Hungarian  agriculture  and  indus- 
try.  At  the  renewal  in  1907,  the  customs  union  was  for  the  first  time  defined 
as  a  treaty,  an  arrangement  which  underscored  the  fact  that  the  economic 
partnership  was  wearing  thin  and  suggested  that  when  the  treaty  expired  in 
1917  the  Magyars  might  be  content  with  nothing  short  of  füll  economic  in- 
dependence.  Roseate  Hungarian  plans  for  industrial  progress  looked,  in  fact, 
to  the  time  when  the  kingdom  would  be  essentially  self-suificient  in  manu- 
factured  goods. 

Across  the  generations  of  political  unity  the  economy  of  the  Hapsburg 
peoples  and  provinces  had  become  intcgrated,  though  huge  disparities  ex- 
isted between  west  and  east  in  material  development  and  Standards  of  com- 
fort.  A  kind  of  rudimentary  division  of  labor  had  evolved,  with  the  produc- 
tions  of  onc  region  complementing  those  of  another.  Greater  specialization 
was  handicapped  by  traditional  diflerences  in  customs  and  costumes,  in  the 
jnethods  of  farming,  by  the  hindrancc  which  linguistic  diflerences  imposcd, 
and  by  the  low  purchasing  ability  of  the  mass  of  the  population.  But  with 
the  passing  of  time  a  delicate  economic  balance  had  emerged,  production  and 
consumption  within  the  borders  of  the  Monarchy  were  fairly  matched,  and, 
cxeept  for  rubber,  cotton,  nickel,  coppcr,  and  wool,  the  Hapsburg  dominions 
were  virtually  self-sustaining. 

Surpluses  of  wheat  and  corn  and  livestock  raised  on  the  plains  of  Hun- 
gary and  Galicia  were  advantagcously  marketed  in  the  industrialized  areas 
of  Austria.  And  Italian  winegrowers  had  more  profitable  outlets  than  would 
have  been  theirs  if  they  had  been  Citizens  of  the  kingdom  of  Italy.  The 
timber  of  the  Alpine  provinces  and  of  the  northern  reaches  of  Hungary, 
the  coal  of  Bohemia  and  Moravia,  thc  iron  ore  and  magnesite  of  Styria, 
the  oil  of  Galicia — these  resources  met  the  requirements  of  other  sections  of 
ihe  sprawling  realm  remarkably  well.  Moreover,  large-scale  industries  in 
Bohemia,  in  the  Vienna  area,  in  Styria,  in  parts  of  Hungary,  all  of  which 
cxpanded  phenomenally  in  the  decadc  before  1914,  went  far  to  satisfy  the 
rising  though  still  relatively  limited  demands  for  finished  textiles  and  other 
manufactures;  and  Vienna  was  thc  financial  and  commercial  heart  of  the 
realm,  with  arteries  running  off  in  every  direction. 

True,  competitive  nationalisms  gcnerated  friction  in  the  economic  sphere 
in  the  form  of  local  boycotts  and  thc  like.  Yet  the  material  advantages  of  the  ^ 
Hapsburg  union  were  pretty  generally  recognized,  save  in  extreme  secession-    , 
ist  circles.  Representative  Czech,  Magyar,  Slovak,  and  Slovene  spokesmen  / 
acknowledged  that  their  nationalitics  were  too  small  to  form  viable  inde- 
pendent  states  in  an  age  of  mass  production  demanding  broad  markets. 

Integration  of  trade  and  exchange  was  matched  and  promoted  by  the 
transportation  facilities  of  the  Dual  Monarchy.  The  great  Danube  and  her 


\ 


!kZ 


iii 


whereas  Frederick  11  had  iuhWited  a  well  organized  cconomy.  Second,  the 
Mana  Theresan  administr\dv\  rcforms  had  not  been  completed  and  cer- 
tainly  not  succeeded  to  a  d^re\  that  would  bid  well  for  a  concerted  war 
effort  for  years  to  come.  Third,  international  relations  had  changed: 
Since  the  war  had  failed  to  strengthen  the  position  of  Russia,  France, 
Sweden,  or  for  that  matter  of  any  of  the  Gcrman  princes,  who  feebly 
supportcd  the  alliance,  an  Austrian  victory  would  have  offset  the  balance 
of  power.  There  was  little  reason  to  assumc  that  Europe  would  have  al- 
lowed  Habsburg  power  to  weaken  Prussia  seriously— let  alone  to  destroy 
her— provided  she  would  have  been  able  to  do  so.  The  peace  of  Hubertus- 
burg of  February  15,  1763,  concluded  just  five  days  after  the  more  im- 
portant  peace  of  Paris  between  France  and  England,  comprised  these 
main  provisions.  Prussia  would  keep  Silesia  wich  the  exccpdon  of  the 
small  Southern  part,  that  is  precisely  within  the  confines  established  at 
the  peace  of  Dresden  in  Dccember,  1745.  Saxony  was  restored,  and  Fred- 
erick agreed  to  have  the  vote  of  Brandenburg  in  a  futurc  imperial  elec- 
tion  cast  for  Joseph.  Consequently  the  following  month  he  was  elected 
in  Frankfurt  as  Roman  king  and  heir  to  bis  father  as  emperor.  Emperor 
Francis,  Maria  Theresa's  consort,  dicd  unexpectedly  in  August  1765,  hence 
Joseph  succeeded  him  sooner  than  expccted.  Unlike  his  father  he  became 
also  coregent  in  the  Habsburg  domains.  Had  it  not  been  for  the  Prussian 
approval,  Joseph's  succession  as  Holy  Roman  emperor  would  probably 
have  had  to  be  secured  with  some  furthcr  concessions  to  Prussia.  In  this    . 
respect  Frederick's  consent  to  Joseph's  election  in  the  peace  treaty  had  ' 
meaning. 

Yet  in  substance  Prussia's  retention  of  Silesia  representcd,  of  coursc,  a 
defensive  victory  of  major  proportions.  It  impressed  contemporary  Europe 
as  much  as  posterity  ever  since.  Though  the  extcnt  of  Frederick's  spec- 
tacular  succcss  should  not  be  minimized,  in  German  and  Austrian  his-  ' 
toriography  it  is  frequently  seen  in  distorted  proportions.  It  is  widcly  held 
that  the  struggle  for  the  supremacy  in  Gcrmany,  to  use  Heinrich  Fried- 
jung's  terms,  began  there  and  then  and  continued  until  it  was  resolved  by 
the  Prussian  victory  at  Königgrätz  in  1866.  To  a  point  this  opinion  is 
correct,  but  only  to  a  point.  By  1763  an  all-out  victory  of  Austria  ending 
with  the  partition  of  Prussia  had  bccome  impossible.  Even  if  Austria  had 
regained  Silesia  it  would  not  have  meant  the  end  of  Prussia  and  the  cnd 
of  the  struggle  for  the  supremacy  in  Germany.  The  conflict  prcsumably 
would  have  continued  in  different  form  and  at  a  different  speed,  but  con- 
tinued it  would  have. 

More  controversial  is  another  viewpoint  frequently  argued,  namely  that 

^"^^"^       VvUt|-.   WwKj.  <]  C(Mj-  ^w^,    l^^V- 


41 


the  outcome  of  the  Seven  Ycars'  War— takiiig  a  long-raiigc  vicw— had 
doomed  the  leadership  of  the  Germans  as  the  dominant  national  group  in 
the  Habsburg  empire.  Since  reducdon  of  the  number  and  the  economic 
strength  of  Germans  in  relative  terms— so  the  argument  goes— impaired 
Austria's  position,  Maria  Theresa  was  forced  to  look  for  compensation  in 
Polish,  Ruthenian,  and  Roumanian  territories.  With  this  poHcy  the  possi- 
bility  of  Germanizing  the  non-German  peoples  within  the  Habsburg  mon- 
archy  was  lost.  Austria  was  to  become  permanently  a  multinational  em- 
pire, which  eventually  led  to  its  dissoludon. 

This  is  an  argument  post  hoc  propter  hoc.  The  loss  of  the  fertile  Silesian 
principalities,  endowed  with  rieh  mineral  resources  and  advanced  indus- 
trial  establishments,  undoubtedly  weakcned  the  Habsburg  empire,  apart 
from  the  serious  decline  in  political  prestige.  Yet  the  loss  of  Silesia  by  it- 
self  did  not  represent  a  major  shift  in  the  national  composition  of  Habs- 
burg power,  which  comprised  at  the  beginnings  of  the  Seven  Years'  War, 
exclusive  of  Belgium  and  Milan,  fifteen  million  people.  Fewer  than  one 
and  a  half  million  of  them  were  inhabitants  of  Silesia  and  a  sizable  pro- 
portion  of  them  was  of  Polish  nationality.  The  acquisition  of  Galicia  in 
the  first  partition  of  Poland  in  1772  changed  the  ethnic  composition  of  the 
Habsburg  monarchy,  but  it  would  be  an  oversimplification  to  assume  that 
Austria's  participation  in  the  parUtion  was  primarily  dependent  on  the 
outcome  of  the  Silesian  wars. 

These  are  the  facts.  When  Joseph  became  emperor  of  the  Holy  Roman 
Empire  and  coregent  of  the  Habsburg  lands  in  1765,  the  foreign  policy  of 
the  monarchy  became  undoubtedly  more  dynamic  and  ambitious,  though 
the  empress  and  Kaunitz  still  controlled  the  brakes.  Austria's  and  Prussia's 
intcrests  as  shown  in  the  first  meeting  between  Frederick  II  and  Joseph  in 
Neisse  in  Silesia  in  1770  were  focused  on  Russia's  expansion  in  eastern 
Europe  in  general,  and  the  Black  Sea  region  and  her  sway  over  Poland 
in  pardcular.  Actually  die  Habsburg  empire  did  not  play  a  very  restrained 
part  at  that  time.  A  few  weeks  before  the  entrevue  at  Neisse  Austrian 
troops  had  occupied  the  Zips  district  ^  as  prelude  of  more  sweeping  terri- 
torial changes  to  come.  This  move  preceded  the  Russo-Polish  understand- 
ing  concerning  the  first  partition  of  Poland  and  in  pardcular  the  Prussian 
occupadon  of  northwestern  Polish  territories  (West  Prussia)  by  about 
three  years.  The  occupation  of  the  Zips  had  morally  weakened  tlie  Aus- 

8  Lcgally,  the  Zips  comitat,  on  the  northcrn  fringc  of  Slovak  territory  bclongcd 
to  Hungary,  but  at  the  time  of  the  Austrian  occupation  it  was,  according  to  the 
terms  of  the  treaty  of  LubHn  of  1412,  for  an  undetermined  period  mortgaged  to  the 
Polish  crown. 


^  ^  ^"^ory  of  the  Habsburg  Empire 

trian  position,  thc  Russo-Polish  agreement  diel  so  politically.  Now  it  had 
become  imposs.ble  for  Austria  to  hold  back.  The  alternative  would  have 
been  up  to  that  point  either  an  undivided  Poland  as  Russian  satellite  or  a 
partuion  between  Russia  and  Prussia  only.  Either  Solution  would  have 
meant  a  cons.derable  shift  of  the  balance  of  power  to  the  disadvantag " 
the  Habsburg  emp.re.  Predictably,  Maria  Theresa  yielded  to  the  entreatie 
of  Kaunuz  and  Joseph.  Since  Austria  could  not  change  the  co^"    o 
ven  s,  Fredertck  s  prediction  that  the  empress  would  pr!y  and  weep  bu 

elte?  't'/"Vr  '""^  ""^-  ^"  ^^^"^^  --'^-^  ^he  Habs'burg 
empire  comphed  wuh  the  Standard  course  of  prerevolutionary  eighteenth 
-n  ury  power  po  itics.  The  consequences,  however,  were  L  L  hing 

P  s  ivelv  Tb  T  m''"?  .'V'"'  "^^"^  P°"^"  ^»^"^  Europe  watched 
pass.vely  This  first  Mun>ch  helped  much,  in  an  ideological  sense,  to  ease 

the  way  for  later  conquests  by  threat  rather  than  use  of  violence. 

Second,  the  domestic  aspects  of  the  partition  were  important.  They  must 

be  Seen  m  context  wüh  the  acquisition  of  d.e  Bukovin'a  from  TurL^  in 

Sxed  Rur""      J""^''"""  "•''^  ^^"^'^-  The  cession  of  this  land 
of  mixed  Ruthenian  and  Roumanian  population  was  extorted  from  Turkey 

as  pnce  ofAustrian  Mediation  in  the  peace  of  Kuchuk-Kainarji  between 

Russ.a  and  the  High  Portal  in  X774.  By  taking  Turkey's  side  caut  ousi; 

had  nctually  defended  her  interests  morc  succcssfully  than  some  eiehtv 
ycars  later  during  the  Crimean  war.  The  Habsburg  monarchyfuthe^ 
more,  could  cash  in  on  her  diplomatic  Intervention  and  be  paid  b    t"  ke 
or  an  acuon  wh.ch  was  as  much  in  her  own  interest  as  in  that  of  the  de 
d.n  n,  Ottoman  empire.  This  was  perhaps  d.e  most  successful  Li 
move  in  Kaunitz's  foreign  policy.  ^ 

lisS''!' .f  V''"^""'"""/^  ^'^''''  '■^"Shly  within  the  confines  reestab- 
.shed  at  he  Congress  of  Vienna  in  18x5,  substantially  changed  the  ethnic 
c  mpos.t.on  of  the  Habsburg  monarchy.  Austria  wal  presented  wi^ 

ranges,  wh.ch  n  geograph.cal  terms  were  separated  from  the  bulk  of  the 

archv   i   r       '  K  "°"°'""  '''''''  "^^  incorporated  in  the  mon- 

archy.  Although  the  potentialities  of  its  development  were  great    they 

R  .k  S f;  T  '^''"  '"  conjunction  with  the  acquisition  of 

Bukovma,  added  also  formidable  national  problems  to  those  gradually 
developmg  m  the  monarchy.  Apart  from  the  fact  that  now  the  Germ  „ 


An  Empire  Reasserts  Itsclf  ^^ 

Position  was  really  weakcncd,  the  Galician  Poles  were  part  of  a  great  na- 
tion  with  a  powerful  tradition  of  cultural-political  independence.  The  en- 
suing  Problems  could  be  adjusted  to  a  degree  but  never  solved  within  the 
confines  of  the  Habsburg  monarchy.  Therc  were  other  issues  as  well.  With 
thc  acquisition  of  Galicia,  the  Habsburg  monarchy  inherited  the  national 
struggie  between  Poles  and  the  Ruthcnian  branch  of  the  Ukrainian  people 
in  die  castern  part  of  the  new  crownland.*  The  social  position  of  the 
Rutlienians  was  and  remained  poorer  than  even  that  of  the  poor  Polish 
pcasants.  This  inferiority  cxtended  also  to  political  Status.  Unlike  the  Gali- 
cian Poles,  the  Ruthenians  were  devoid  of  a  class  of  aristocratic  and  minor 
noble  landowners.  Some  strength,  it  is  true,  was  added  to  the  unsatisfac- 
lory  Ruthenian  Situation  in  Galicia  through  the  acquisition  of  Bukovina 
with  a  population  of  more  than  two-fifths  Ruthenians.  They  had  lived 
within  the  Hungarian  southern  rangcs  of  the  Carpathians  (after  1918 
called  Carpato-Ukraine)  ever  aftcr  thc  thirteenth  Century.  They  had  not 
represcnted  a  significant  national  problem.  This  came  into  existence  only 
with  the  incorporation  of  substantial  Ruthenian  minorities  in  Galicia  and 
liukovina. 

What  was  true  concerning  the  emergence  of  a  Ruthenian-Ukrainian 
Problem  applied  to  a  lesser  degree  to  a  Roumanian.  The  position  of  the 
Transylvanian  Vlachs  was  strengthened  by  the  incorporation  of  the  more 
ihan  one-third  Roumanian  population  in  Bukovina.  This  in  turn  was 
bound  to  have  an  effect  on  relations  between  the  national  groups  in  Tran- 
sylvania.  The  specter  of  a  formidable  national  problem  in  conjunction 
wuh  a  social  one-the  absorption  of  peoples  of  diffcrent  socioeconomic 
Icvels— was  on  the  rise. 

The  ensuing  German  policy  of  Joseph  II,  reluctantly  tolerated  by  Maria 
Theresa  but  supported  by  Kaunitz,  has  to  be  seen  in  the  context  of  these 
evcnts.  As  noted  before,  thc  outcome  of  the  Silesian  wars  had  not  yet  sub- 
slantially  affccted  Austria's  German  position.  The  acquisitions  of  Zips 
('769).  Galicia  (1772),  and  Bukovina  (1775)  undoubtcdly  did.  Yet  the 
war  of  die  Bavarian  Succession  (1778-1779)  did  not  result  directly  from 
Austria's  defcat  in  the  Seven  Years*  War  nor  for  that  matter  from  any 
ciear  recognition  of  the  naüonal  problems  created  by  the  acquisition  of 
Slavic  territory  in  the  east  in  conjunction  with  the  loss  of  predominantly 
German  Silcsia.  Joseph  II  and  Kaunitz  followed  rather  a  more  sweeping 
and  consistent  but  unwise  Habsburg  policy,  namely  that  annexations  in 

«The  Ruthenians  (the  natnc  is  a  I.-ttinizniion  of  Russians)  are  understood  here 
ns  he  tiiost  western  branch  of  the  Ukrainian  pcoplc,  scttlcd  in  the  main  in  eastern 
Oalicia  biit  in  part  also  in  northeastern  Hiingary, 


^  ^^  History  of  the  Habsburg  Empire 

until  1776.  The  fact  that  Maria  Theresa  only  slowly  foUowed  humani- 
tarian  reforms  introduced  already  in  Denmark  and  several  Gcrman  statcs 
including  Prussia,  was  not  due  to  any  innate  cruelty  of  her  character  but 
to  her  inability  to  comprehend  die  new  thought  diat  proof  would  be 
more  convincing  if  based  on  a  combination  of  testimony  by  witnesses  and 
circumstantial  evidence  than  primarily  on  extorted  confessions. 

This  modern  notion  was,  of  course,  fully  within  the  intcllectual  grasp 
of  Joseph  who  introduced  a  new  order  of  criminal  procedure  in  1788,  in 
line  with  the  reforms  wrested  from  the  empress  in  1776.  Yet  if  Joseph 
was  a  humanitarian,  he  was  one  of  a  strictly  utilitarian  nature  and  bis 
Code  of  Substantive  Criminal  Law  of  1787,  which  did  away  with  capital 
punishment  substituted  for  it  Hfe  sentences  of  hard  labor  of  the  most  cruel 
kind  likc  pulling  ships  or  treading  mills  to  give  the  government  the 
benefit  of  a  wretched  criminaPs  toil.  On  the  other  band,  die  egaUtarian 
character  of  the  new  code  with  emphasis  on  humiliating  punishment  for 
crimes  committed  by  nobles  did  much  to  break  the  class  character  of 
Austrian  justice.  An  order  of  civil  procedure,  initiated  under  Maria 
Theresa,  which  left  more  initiative  to  the  Htigants  than  before,  was  in- 
troduced between  1782  and  1784;  an  order  on  procedure  in  cases  of  bank- 
ruptcy  followed. 

Joseph  did  not  Hve  long  enough  to  see  the  enactment  of  the  drafts  of 
die  planned  Austrian  code  of  civil  law.  This  comprehensivc  codification, 
considered  to  this  day  the  crowning  masterpiece  of  Austrian  judicial 
legislation,  was  not  promulgated  until  181 1.  Yet  a  marriagc  law,  which 
reverted  Jurisdiction  from  ecclesiasdc  to  civil  courts  and  a  new  inheritance 
law  were  introduced  in  Joseph's  time.  So  was  in  1786  at  least  the  first 
part  of  the  Austrian  civil  code  dealing  with  the  personal  Status  of  die 
individual.  None  of  these  legislative  works  pertained  to  Hungary.  Joseph's 
legislative  reform  for  the  hereditary  and  Bohemian  lands  and  Galicia  rcprc- 
^sented,  despite  some  shortcomings,  a  proud  and  enduring  achievement.^^ 

c)   REFORM  IN  TUE  NEW  PROVINCES 

Another  undeniable  achievement  of  Maria  Thcresa's  and  Joseph's  rcigns 
pertained  to  Galicia  and  Bukovina,  whosc  administrations  were  mcrgcd 
with  the  Austrian-Bohemian  court  Chancery  in  1787  after  a  short-livcd 
Galician  court  Chancery  had  been  dissolved.  Not  unül  1849  was  a  separate 

^^  Menry  E.  Strakosch,  State  Absolutism  and  the  Rule  of  Law:  The  struggle  for 
Codification  of  Civil  Latv  in  Austria  1733-181 1  (Sydney,  1967),  pp.  1-163; 
Ostcrloh,  foseph  von  Sonnenfels,  pp.  165-199;  Kann,  A  Study  in  Austrian  Intcllec- 
tual Hi Story,  pp.   1 81-189. 


I 


m 


W^- 


A  n  Empire  Reasserts  Itself  jgj 

crownland   administradon   permancntly    established    in    the    Bukovina. 
Both,  Maria  Theresa  and  Joseph,  but  particularly  the  latter,  tried  to  raise 
the  Galician  economy  to  the  modcst  level    of  the  neighboring  Habsburg 
lands.  Proteedon  against  the  exccsscs  of  robot  (personal  labor  for  the 
lords)  was  granted  to  all  peasants;  immigrants  were  exempted.  Immigra- 
don  of  peasants,  pardcularly  from  south  Germany  was  encouraged.  They 
were  granted  tax  exemption  for  a  number  of  years  and  freedom  from 
military   service  for   their  sons,    rcceived   building  material,   and   were 
allowed   premiums   for   agricultural   improvements.   The   settlement  of 
craftsmen  from  other  lands  was  also  encouraged,  and  the  internal  cus- 
toms  dudcs  for  Imports  of  (usually  inferior)  agricultural  products  from 
Galicia  to  the  neighboring  Bohemian  lands  abolished.  Similar  measures 
were   provided   for   the   peasantry    in   Bukovina,   though    here,    unlike 
in   Galicia,  the  great  ladfundia  owners  were  not  Polish   nobles.  The 
Uniate  Church  with  her  orthodox  liturgy  but  Roman  Catholic  afiiliation 
held  most  of  the  land.  The  Habsl)urg  policy  in  Galicia  and  Bukovina  to 
Support  the  Uniate  Church  and   her  cducational  instiiutions   and   to  a 
Icsser    dcgree    the    Greek    Orthodox    Church    for    the    benefit    of    the 
Ruthenian  Ukrainian  population  in  the  new  eastern  terntories  cannot  be 
classificd  simply  as  äivide  et  impera  policy  between  Poles  and  Ruthen- 
ians.  But  undoubtedly  the  Austrian  administration  was  aware  that  the 
Poles  in  the  period  between  first  and  sccond  partition  prescnted  a  serious 
national  and  political  problem,  an  issue  that  could  not  be  found  as  yet 
in  the  rclations  to  the  Ruthenians.^** 

D.      ECONOMIC  POLICIES 

llie  regime  under  the  direcdon  of  the  empire-wide  Commerce  Direc- 
tory, established  as  eady  as  1741,  pursued  a  mercantiHst  commercial  and 
industrial  poHcy,  revised  and  somcwhat  refined  by  the  doctnnes  of  popu- 
lationism.  According  to  these  thcories,  the  wealth  of  the  State  rested 
primarily  in  its  skilled  labor  force.  It  would  be  instrumental  in  achieving 
the  old  mercandlist  aim  of  a  big  cxport  surplus  balance  of  trade,  though 
in  a  more  sophisdcated  sense  than  had  previously  been  the  case.  Skilled 
labor  was  now  considered  a  value  in  itself  like  previously  bullion.  Under 
Maria  Theresa  these  objecüves  were  pursued,  partly  by  a  system  of  high 
protective  tariffs,  partly  by  the  prohibition  of  the  Import  of  luxury  goods 
and  an  embargo  on  the  export  of  various  raw  materials.  A  number  of 
internal  custom  lines  were  abolished,  but  those  between  Hungary  and 

^•"^Arncih,  Geschichte  Maria  Theresias,  X,  76-101;  Mitrofanov,  Joseph  II,  I,  252- 
268. 


/ 


^^  History  of  the  Habsburg  Empire 

check    them    so    spectacular.   Prussian    economic    policy    was    in    part 
prompted  and  in  part  helpcd  by  the  fact  that  the  industrial  revolution  had 
made  greatcr  progress  in  Germany  than  in  Austria.  The  advantages  of  a 
customs  Union,  initiated  by  Prussia  as  early  as  1819,  appeared  more  con- 
spicuous  to  the  German  meniber  states  of  the  Confederaüon  than  to  the 
Austnan  statcsmcn.  Metternich's  feeblc  e/Torts  to  delay  a  German  eco- 
nomic Union,  which  easily  might  become  a  political  one  to  the  detriment 
of  Austria,  were  unsuccessful,  in  part  also  because  he  wanted  to  avoid  a 
pohtical  Showdown  with  Prussia  as  long  as  the  political  philosophy  of 
the  Prussian  government  was  agreeable  to  him.  Political  considerations 
preceded  economic  ones.  Accordingly  his  means  of  checking  the  Prussian 
dcsigns  were  ineflective.  A  South  German  customs  union,  consisting  of 
Baden  and  Württemberg  and  a  large  Central  German  union  of  Saxony, 
Hanover,  Kurhessen,  and  the  Thuringian  states,  both  concluded  in  1828, 
were  favored   by   Austria.  Just    the   same,   most  members   joined   the 
Deutsche  Zollverein,  which  bccame  a  reality  on  January  i,  1834.  It  com- 
prised  most  states  of  the  Confcderation  except  for  Austria,  Baden,  the 
I  lansa  cities,  Nassau,  and  Mecklenburg.  Altogether,  this  union  comprised 
23,000,000  people  and  in  part  territories  with  high  cultural  and  economic 
Standards.  It  is  not  too  much  to  say,  that  the  materialization  of  the  Zoll- 
verein  stood  for  a  preliminary  decision,  that  the  Coming  political  struggle 
for  the  supremacy  in  Germany  would  result  in  the  victory  of  Prussia.  No 
matter  how  reactionary  the  Prussian  regime  under  Frederick  William  III 
and  Frederick  William  IV  was,  no  matter  how  brutal-indeed  more  brutal 
than  in  Austria-the  persecutions  of  the  "demagogues"  were,  the  German 
nation  associated  the  idea  of  German  unification  with  a  reformed  and 
liberalized    Prussia   and    not    with    a    predominandy    agricultural    and 
predominantly  non-Germanic  Habsburg  empire.^ 

The  question  arises  whether  the  death  of  Empcror  Francis  in  1835 
changed  matters  for  better  or  worse.  The  replacement  of  a  petty  tyrant  by 
a  feeble-minded  successor,  the  new  emperor  Ferdinand,  dubbed  "the 
Benign,"  changed  little.  The  absurdly  excessive  application  of  the  principle 
of  legitimacy  adhered  to  by  Francis  and  Metternich,  namely  the  succession 
of  an  incapacitated  man  because  he  was  the  next  heir  to  the  throne, 
damaged  the  System  itself.  On  the  other  band,  the  intellectual  equipment 
of  the  sccond  prince  in  the  line  of  succession,  Archduke  Francis  Charles, 
the  father  of  the  future  emperor  Francis  Joseph,  was  not  impressive 

•^Theodore    J.    Hamcrow,    Restoraüon,    Revolution,    Reaction:    Economics   and 
Pohtics  tn  Germany,  1813-^1871  (Princcton,  1966),  pp.  10-16;  Heinrich  von  Srbik 
Deutsche   Einheit:   Idee   und    Wirklichkeit   vom    heiligen   Reich    bis   Königgrätz 
(Munich,  1963),  I,  257-283. 


StaiidstiU,  Decline,  Stabilization  240 

cidicr.  In  this  sense  the  State  Conference  established  in  1836,  nominally  to    ( 
assist  but  actually  to  replace  the  emperor,  could  hardly  do  worse  and  in  / 
some  respcct  might  have  done  bettcr  than  a  Ferdinand  or  Francis  Charles  ' 
who  would  have  had  free  reign.  The  Conference  was  presided  over  by 
Emperor  Francis'  most  undistinguished  brother,  Archduke  Louis.  Francis 
Charles  added  little  lustre  to  it,  while  the  only  gifted  and  by  character 
strongest  scions  of  the  imperial  house,  archdukes  Charles  and  John,  were 
cxcludcd  by  the  will  of  the  late  emperor.  Decisive  influence  in  Council  • 
war,  held  by  Metternich  and  by  Count  Anton  Kolowrat,  since  1826  con-   ' 
fercnce   minister  and  in  charge  of  financial  and  of  over-all  domestic 
pohcies.  Thus  in  internal  policies  it  is  perhaps  more  correct  to  speak  for 
the  last  two  decades  of  the  restoration  period  of  a  Kolowrat  regime 
rather  than  a  Metternich  regime.  Yet  the  philosophy  of  the  restoradon 
System  in  external  and  the  police  System  in  internal  aflairs  was  associated 
with  Metternich  all  over  Europe.  In  any  case,  two  statesmen  of  stature 
were  the  leading  members  of  the  State  Conference.  Metternich,  though  he 
had  passed  the  peak  of  his  success,  was  still  considered  a  man  of  foremost 
expcrience  in  foreign  aflairs.  Kolowrat,  a  more  capable  administrator, 
had  at  least  a  limited  understanding  for  the  problems  of  nadonalism  in 
its  conservative  and  tradidonal  historical-political  pattern.^  , 

In  1833,  at  the  entrevue  of  Münchengrätz  in  Bohemia  the  old  emperor  / 
iM-ancis  had  received  the  solemn  promise  of  the  tsar,  that  he  would  sup- 1 
port  the  antirevolutionary  policies  conducted  in   the  name  of  the  de- 
bilitated  heir.  Considering  Nicholas'  sentiments  of  conservative  chivalry 
therc  was  no  reason  to  doubt  the  seriousness  of  this  pledge.  There  was 
complete  Cooperation  in  the  settlement  of  the  Turkish-Egypdan  crisis  of 
1840  and  in  the  conclusion  of  the  Dardanelles  treaty  the  following  year, 
which  closcd  the  Straits  in  peacetime  to  the  men  of  war  of  all  nations.  Yet 
thesc  were  matters  of  no  immediate  concern  to  the  Habsburgs.  A  better 
test  of  still  harmonious  relations  with  Russia  was  the  incorporadon  of  the   / 
I'iee  City  State  of  Cracow  in  1846  into  Austrian  territory,  which,  following  / 
the  Polish  insurrection  in  Galicia,  took  place  with  the  füll  endorsement  of 
the  two  other  partitioning  powers  of  old.  The  Polish  Piedmont  seemed 
to  bc  destroyed.  Equally  important  for  Austria,  the  incorporation,  com- 
bined  with  the  conspicuous  factor  of  Russian  and  Prussian  intolerance 
against  thcir  Polish  subjects,  helpcd  to  give  a  relatively  moderate  Habs- 
burg Polish  policy  the  chance  of  smooth  sailing  for  a  long  dme." 

^Eduard  Winter,  Romantismus,  Restauration  und  Frühliberalismus  im  öster- 
reichischen Vormärz  (Vienna,  1968),  pp.  206-211;  Srbik,  Metternich,  II,  8-24. 

*^  Hanns  Schlitter,  Aus  Österreichs  Vormärz  (Vienna,  1920),  I,  Galizien  und 
Kiakan,  t<>-34. 


39^  History  of  the  Habsburg  Empire 

the  Cathollc  Seminary  in  Trnava  (Tyrnau,  Nagyszombat).  In  his  grarn- 
mar  of  1850  he  merged  the  major  Slovak  idioms,  represented  in  extreme 
form  by  Bernoldk  and  §tür,  into  a  distinct  Hterary  language,  which 
despite  its  Czech  roots  maintained  their  Slovak  characteristics. 

Slovak  novels,  stories,  epics,  and  lyrics  had  existed  previously.  They 
continued  to  thrive  further  after  their  national  identity  had  been  fully 
recognized,  not  against  but  basically  with  the  Cooperation  of  the  neigh- 
boring  Czech  people.  Problems  of  die  future,  when  bodi  nations  would 
have  to  live  side  by  side  in  the  same  State,  could  not  yet  be  clearly  en- 
visioned.^® 

E.    The  Poles 

The  center  of  Polish  national  hfe  in  the  two  decades  between  the  first 
and  third  partition  was  still  the  area  around  Warsaw.  Afterward  for  a 
füll  gencration,  the  generation  of  Poüsh  Hterary  Messianism,  and  roman- 
ticism,  Paris  became  the  rallying  point  of  political  Polish  emigration  and 
to  a  degree  of  Polish  cultural  activities.  Later,  intellectual  Poland,  though 
repressed  in  many  ways,  had  its  center  of  intellectual  gravity  gradually 
returned  to  Russia  largely  because  of  the  rise  of  Panslavism  among  Rus- 
sians  as  well  as  Poles.  But  another  center  was  in  the  Republic  of  Cracow, 
established  at  the  Congress  of  Vienna  and  returned  in  1846  to  Austrian 
rule.^^  Cracow,  during  its  republican  era  had  its  old  medieval  university 
reorganized  by  the  dorne  capitular  Hugo  Koitqtaj  between  1777  and  1782. 
A  Society  of  Fine  Arts  was  established  there  in  1853  and  later  raised  to  an 
academy.  The  opening  of  the  National  Polish  Museum  followcd  in  1879. 
The  University  of  Lwow  founded  in  1784  as  well  as  the  Polytcchnicum  of 
1844  still  oflered  instruction  in  German.  As  the  result  of  the  administrative 
semi-autonomy  granted  to  Galicia  in  1868,  this  changed  in  1871. 

After  1830  the  Poles  in  the  Habsburg  monarchy  were  treated  better  than 

those  in  Russia  and  at  Icast  after  the  suppression  of  the  second  PoHsh 

revolt  of  1863  better  than  those  in  Prussia.  Yet  the  evolution  of  PoHsh 

cultural  life  did  not  benefit  much  from  these  conditions  on  Austrian 

territory  because  Warsaw  rcmained  after  all  the  center  of  the  kingdom  and 

the  Poles  believed  that  their  resurrcction  could  only  come  from  there. 

Warsaw,  not  Cracow  was  also  believed  to  be  the  future  core  of  Polish 

culture.  The  Habsburg  empire  seemed  too  feeble  ever  to  be  able  to  guaran- 

tee  a  comprehensive  Polish  future  within  its  confines.  There  was,  further- 

2®Pypin    and    Spasovic,   Geschichte   der   slawischen    Literaturen,   11:2,   310-352; 
Ludwig  von  Gogolak,  Beiträge  zur  Geschichte  des  slowa1{ischen  Volkes  (Munich, 
1963-1972),  I,  221-253,  II,  1-171  passim,  III,  19-31. 
21  Cracow  had  bccn  also  undcr  Austrian  rule  from  1 795-1 809. 


From  Laie  Efiliglitenment  to  Libcralism  jgj 

morc,  die  Rudienian  movement  for  equality,  in  particular  in  eastern 
Galicia,  and  the  Poles  feit,  more  wrongly  than  rightly,  that  the  govern- 
ment  in  Vienna  used  a  dit/ide  et  impera  policy  by  backing  up  the  Ruthe- 
nians  against  them.  Whether  right  or  wrong,  ill  feelings  were  stronger 
in  cultural  life  than  on  the  administrative  level. 

None  of  the  PoUsh  classics  such  as  Mickiewicz,  Slovacki,  and  Krasinski, 
is  directly  related  to  GaUcian  history,  but  a  near-great  writer,  Count 
Alexander  Fredro  (1793-1876)  wrote  excellent  comedies  in  die  style  of 
Mülicre  and  had  them  performed  in  the  national  theaters  in  Cracow  and 
Lwow.  Disünguished  scholars  and  academic  teachers  were  the  historian 
of  law  Anton  S.  Helcel,  and  the  political  philosopher  Pawel  von  Popiel. 
Both  resided  in  Cracow  after  its  reincorporation  into  Austria.  The 
medieval-history  scholar  Karol  Szajnocha  in  Lwow  was  barred  from  an 
academic  position  because  of  revolutionary  acüvities  in  his  youth.  Notable 
was  the  stimulating  Hterary  critic  Julian  Klaczko  who  wrote  mainly  in 
French,  until  the  mid-nineteenth  Century  the  language  of  Polish  high 
Society  in  Galicia.^^ 

The  glory  of  Gothic  and  Renaissance  paintings  represented  by  Hans 
von  Kulmbach  in  the  sixteenth  Century,  and  wood  sculpture  in  the  late 
fifteenth  by  the  great  Veit  Stoss  were  claimed  equally  for  Polish  and 
German  culture.  The  place  of  birth  and  training  of  thcse  men  was 
German,  the  influence  of  the  environment  largely  though  not  fully  Polish. 
Their  süperb  achievements  could  not  be  revived  by  the  historical  school  in 
the  nineteenth  Century,  but  some  of  its  outstanding  representatives  like 
Jan  Matejko  (1838-1893),  a  painter  of  major  historical  compositions,  and 
his  contemporary  Julian  Kossak,  a  portraitist,  were  fine  artists.^^ 

F.    The  Ruthenians 


24 


A  major  factor  in  the  Hterary  history  of  the  Ruthenians  in  Galicia 
which  camc  under  Austrian  rulc  in  1772  and  1774,  was  the  alienation  of 
aristocracy  and  intelligentsia  from  their  Historie  culture.  Polish  influence 

22  Manfred  Kridl,  in  Bcrnadotte  Schmitt,  ed.,  Poland  (Berkeley,  1945),  pp.  284- 
310;  Manfred  Kridl,  A  Survey  of  Polish  Utcrature  and  Culture  (The  Hague, 
1967),  pp.  317  f.;  Count  Stanislaus  Tarnovvski,  "Polnische  Literatur"  in  [Crown- 
princc  Rudolf]  Die  österreichisch-ungarische  Monarchie,  vol.  Galizien,  591-648; 
Erasmus  Piltz,  ed.,  Poland  (London,  1919),  pp.  291-301;  Czcslav  Milosz,  The 
History  oj  Polish  Uterature  (London,  I9^>9),  pp.  158-259. 

23Ladislaus  Luszizkiewicz,  "Archiiccinrc'*  in  [Crownprincc  Rudolf]  Die  öster- 
reichisch-ungarische Monarchie,  vol.  Calizien,  pp.  694-720  and  Marian  von 
Sokolski,  "Malerei  und  Plastik",  ibid.  pp.  745-771. 

2*Jointly  with  the  Hungarian  Carpathu  Ruthenians  the  most  western  branch  of 
the  Ukrainian  people. 


4^4  u- 

- .  Htstory  of  the  Habsburg  Empire 

Magyar  intransigcnce,  in  addition  to  increasine  fnnrl  n  •         r       , 
a  so    ndirectlv   inrrp^c.^        j      •  '"^reasing  tood  prices  direct  y, 

Magyar  I^Z^ZT     "T"''  "^  '°  '^'  """^'"'^  P^^-^  «^  the 

than  fifty  workers  each  P  ^/^^^fif^h^  ot  them  employed  less 

The  c  nTer  o   A-  ?"'""^  '^^^^  '^^^  ""^^  P°J"--1  ieverage. 

aerlulM'  ,       .'"  "°"'"''  ^^"^"^'"^  ^"^  machine-xnanufacturing    In 

in  SfPvr  ^n^    k      •    I  •    ,       ^""^^^  ^"^  ^PPer  Austria,  armament  works 
.88.,  which  mmed  d,e  rieh  iron  ,esou,c«  of  northwe„cr„  S  v„a  Yc,  ^ 

BrennerrouK  a  sccond  ™p„„a„,  co„„cc,i„g  link  be,„„„  Vill,   ! 
WiruthafapoJiiikösmreiiun' '  ,-irAH.lw    j       f»««"™«  semtinim. 


!li 


IV 


l-;i 


DccUne  and  Discord  4^5 

to  shipping  was  by  an  Inland  sca,  the  Adriatic,  the  cxpansion  of  the  Aus- 
trian  Lloyd  Tricstino  to  the  largcst  commercial  shipping  Company  in  the 
Meditcrranean  was  highly  satisfactory,  as  was  the  development  of  the 
Austrian  Danube  Steamship  Company,  which  carried  freight  from 
the  Gel  man  frontier  to  the  Black  Sea. 

In  Austrian  agriculture,  sugarbeet  plantations  in  Moravia  and  potato 
plantations  in  Galicia  could  be  efliciently  run,  but  farming  in  the  Alpine 
and  Karst  lands  to  the  south  was  in  a  State  of  continuous  crisis.  The 
homesteads  were  too  small,  farm  labor  in  the  mountains  strenuous,  and 
the  climate  too  harsh  to  raise  crops  at  prices  which  could  compete  with 
the  Hungarian  large-scale  production,  particularly  in  wheat.  Beef  cattle 
in  die  Alpine  territories  could  not  compete  with  the  Hungarian  imports 
bccause  of  die  high  fodder  costs,  and  chcaper  meat  could  not  compete  with 
the  lower-quality  beef  cattle  raised  in  Galicia.  The  Austrian  mountain 
peasant  in  general  was  in  debt,  which  commenced  usually  as  soon  as  he 
carne  into  possession  of  the  farm.  First  he  had  to  carry  the  debts  in- 
curred  by  his  father,  secondly  he  had  to  pay  off  his  brothers*  and  sisters' 
share  in  the  inheritance,  and  hc  could  do  neither  without  mortgaging 
his  homestcad.  Most  Alpine  peasants  concentrated   on  dairy  products, 
fruit,  and  sometimes  vegetables,  but  these  rarely  sufficed  to  earn  the 
hvelihood  for  a  whole  family.  The  answer  was  in  many  cases  a  forced 
selling  out  to  the  lumber  companies  er  to  the  big  estates  owners  who 
changed  pastures  and  fields  to  forests,  a  transaction  which  combined  the 
plcasure  of  enlarged  hunting  facilitics  with  the  opportunity  of  profitable 
salcs  to  the  lumber  mills.  If  the  Austrian  mountain  peasant  could  havc 
been  assisted  it  would  have  bcen  by  cheapcr  credits  and  a  channeling  of 
production  into  more  specialized  products.  But  die  major  problem  of 
merging  die  smallest  farms  to  units  of  at  Icast  twenty  acres,  which  could 
Support  a   family,  was   not  solvable  without  far-rcaching  govcrnment 
intcrvention.  This,  like  farm  subsidies,  was  out  of  the  question  in  pre- 
war  Austria.  But  although  it  was  unccrtain  how  the  mountain  peasants 
could  be  hclped,  the  tariff  war  with  Serbia  was  counterproductive.*^® 

As  for  Hungary  including  Croatia-Slavonia,  the  competitive  superior- 
ity  of  Hungarian  agriculture  was  not  only  based  on  the  economic  power 
of  the  big  estates  owners.  Climate,  soil  conditions,  and  centuries  of  ex- 
perience  of  the  labor  force  favored  large-scale   agricultural  Operations, 

ß»H.  Matis  and  K.  Bachinger,  "Österreichs  industrielle  Entwicklung"  ibid.,  pp. 
105-229;  Benedikt,  DU  wirtschaftliche  Entwicklung  in  der  Franz  Joseph  Zeit,  pp.  104- 
181;  März,  Österreichische  Industrie  und  lUnkpoUtik  in  der  Zeit  Franz  Josephs  L, 
pp/ 213-362;  Trcmcl,  Wirtschafts-  und  Sozialgeschichte  Österreichs,  pp.  324-372; 
Matis,  Österreichs  Wirtschaft  1848-1013,  pp.  yji-Z^3' 


» 


X^oZiA^  I«  H-y 


culturation"  and  '-ructur    " Is^LZ7"  '"'^T^  ^'^P^^^^'«"«  "^c- 
Gordon's  sense.  ass.m.lation  '  will  also  be  applied  in 

The  course  of  Jewish  ;5<;Qimii^f;^ 
from  acculturation Tgro"p Xal"  '"  "'^'^nth -Century  Europe 
with  urbanization,  with  the  n^'Z^.  Tf  ^''  "'"^"^  '''^«"  '«"ked 
of  Eastern  or  Cen  ral  EuropeTnto  dde^  ^  ''°"'  ''''  «•"^"  *«-"« 

from  traditional  restrictions  on  °   "  «"etropolitan  areas.  Freed 

nineteenth-century  ew  Touir^^^^^^^  f'^''^^  ^"'^  '^°'"'-"^''  '«te 
educationai  oppoLniti  s  whici  onlvTr''''/'^^""'^''^'  ^"^ 
cities,  released  from  the  resTSs  on^  "  ^.  '°"''*  °"^'-  I"  ^he 

a  small-town  environmem  ,ews  ab/?"".''  ''^'-'^y'^  •'"P««'^^  by 
social  and  religious  paTerns  and  .«^  f."?-  *'"'''*"°"^'  '"'^'^^^i'' 
Jews  entered  net  proSns  oÜIIh "^  T  ^°"^8^°*«  «»"^ty 

a  higher  levei  o^so.T^::^:::^'::^'^:^^.'''' '1^7^ 

Ipe^rir  ^^  °^  "^^-  '''  -^^  lewish^s^Sirn  r^rSy 

veritable  hotbedfo^The  Ices  l'  T  ^  Factors  of  assimilaticfn- 
more  rapidly  there  than  in Ty  oZ  part'o^rl^"  "^'^  ^'^"^^'^  ^"'^ 
feared  that  intermarriage  and  UveTsion  bot  n.o""'^'''  "  '"^P'" 
City  than  elsewhere,  vvould  causp  Vhl  ^'  '^  common  in  the 

people.  Large  cities  were  plSarlv  d.    ''PP''""^^  °^  »^e  Jewish 
of  the  greater  social  interac  ^  '   l  ^"«'T''  ^'  '"''''''^'  t'^^ause 
by  the  urban  economv  and  cönl^     '7'""  "°"-^"^^  precipitated 
well  as  weaker  chur^contro    tin      '.  """°"''  «PPortunities,  as 
the  urban  tolerance  for  dtetitv    In  ^H°""f- '"'  ^«""^^y^'^e,  and 
Jewish  Community  were  loösen  d  and    he  r"    ''  "'  '^"'^^  °^  '»^« 
outside  influence,  with  assimTn.         ?    ^^"^^  "^^'^  susceptible  to 
consequence.  RuppTn  recTg'^ed  "thar    ;°""""^'  ''^^°'""°"  '^e 
Jewish  assimilatio'n'  but  h?n  vShele L^^^^^^^^  '''''''  ?  ^»- 

convert  to  Christianity  in  order  fr.  u        *  ^^"^^  ^°"'^  o"'y 

dominant  culture  coul'd  bestow  u  Th^Z  T ^""'"f"'  "'^''^^  ^^e 
two  millstones  of  anti-Semitism  ;;nH  ,     declared:  "Between  ihe 

of  being  destroyed  '  M  "'^  ass.m.lation,  Judaism  is  in  danger 

Ruppin's  pessimistic  assessmenf  of  tu..  ■ 
Jewish  identity  makes  the  stud v  ./ ,      •  ?P'''  °^  "»-banizatlon  on 
particularly  exciting  and  imporfam    V"''"'"'  assimilation  in  Vienna 
excellent  opportunity  to  tTC^in   T'  '^^'''^^  '^'  ""'"'^"^^  '^n 


.>^  ••  /-^  6^..  ^  >^y„..fe,.  q^J 


perfec   case  study  of  Jewish  assimilation.  Moreover,  in  Vienna  it  is 

poss.ble  to  study  the  impact  of  the  urban  environment  ön  the  a 

sunUahon  of  all  Jews,  not  just  the  prominent  elite.  The  ready  ava'  - 

abahty  of  sources  which  lend  themselves  to  Statistical  analys  s  enables 

he  histonan  to  analyze  the  transformations  which  occu^eT.^  Jewiih 

oaal  and  economic  behavior  and  the  mechanisms  which  thraveTage 

Jew  devised  to  ensure  Jewish  group  survival.  The  undersSne 

Berlin   b"h  "ff  ^"^''^^  '°'  ^''"^  ^"'^  easily  be    p^ed  tf 
Berln   Budapest   Prague,  and  other  Central  European  cities.^ 

RuooTn  h  JT  ^-  T'^f^''  ''''  "^'"^  °^  ^^''"^'«^'  (metropolis) 
Ruppm  had  in  mmd  when  he  spoke  of  the  dangers  for  Jews  of 

metropohtan  hfe.  In  the  second  half  of  the  nineteenth  Century  vTenna 
was  one  of  the  most  cosmopolitan  cities  of  Europe  as  weU  a  one 
of  the  largest,  with  a  population  of  almost  two  milHon  As'he  actual 
thCh  R  i""''  P°'^^^°*'  ^"'^  -"^«-tional  Austria-Hunglr;      ven 

the  Center  of  pohtical  power  and  wealth  in  the  Austro-Hunearian 
Monarchy.  Its  intellectual  preeminence  and  economic  opporEs 

and  for  Th"  ''"'"^  P'''^  *°  ''"^  •"'  ^°*h  for  its  native'^^opulat  on 
fnto  %r  ;"^";'S^.^"'rJ^^«  «nd  non-Jews  alike-who%freamed 
laTon.  ^^^  "  '''°""''^  •"  opportunities  for  Jewish  assim' 

In  contrast  to  the  Situation  in  other  Central  European  Grosssfädte 
however,  the  large  Viennese  Jewish  Community  J^s  comreroi 
imrn.grants  or  their  children  who  came  from  a  wide  rangeTCuistic 
cutural    and  religious  backgrounds  and  who  consequenüy'cöped 

200  OOn  Uw'^TJ  ^''""^  '"  '^•"^^^^  ^^y«-  Numbering  almost 
200,000  by  World  War  I,  the  Jewish  Community  of  Vienna  had 

Jew^Tom  thrrV'"'^'  """""'^^  •"  ^"'^-  -  Central  Europe 
and  f^oT  L  u  P'°T'"'  °'  ^°^^'^'^'  Moravia,  and  Galicia, 

and  from  Hungary,  began  flocking  to  Vienna  when  the  Austrian 

oTmsT^  t'-^'"'^'  residentiaf  restrictions  after  thf  ReCo"Sn 
ot  1848  «  These  immigrants  were  both  rieh  and  poor    urban  and 
rural,  traditional  and  already  assimilated,  German-  o^Y^c^sh  speak 
mg.  Many  sought  total  assimilation;  others  were  commit ted    o  the 
preservafon  of  Jewishness  in  its  religious  or  national  gu.se    Their 

to  v[:n"ia"'"''"°"  "'  ^°^'^  "^'^  '°^  '  "^»^  -'^  varifd  response 

vll^^n'  ^^^  '*'''"^*''  °^  antisemitic  politics  in  tum-of-the-century 
V.enna'    underscores  both  the  substantial  obstacles  as  well  as  the 
potentjal  goads  to  Jewish  assimilation  over  which  Ruppin  angu  sh  d 
The  Chnsfan  Social  Party,  which  dominated  the  Cify^Cound   af  er 

successfully  used  aggressive  antisemitic  oratory  to  attract  middle- 


6    The  Jews  of  Viema 


c  ass  voters,  angry  with  economic  modemization  or  political  Liber- 
alism,  into  its  camp.  Christian  Social  Mayor  Karl  Lueger  (1897-1910) 
never  fulfilled  his  antisemitic  promises,  but  the  vitality  of  the  anti- 
semitic  movement  persuaded  some  Jews  to  convert  to  Christianitv 
pln'    ^^^J^""^  time  made  total  assimilation  virtually  impossible,' 

reZ,V?""  "''°,  '.'"^""^  '^''"'^  '*•  Antisemites  continued  to 
remmd  the  Jews  mcludmg  the  already  baptized,  of  their  Jewishness. 

Pv.n  ir  ^  ,.  V    ^Tt  ""^°  ""'^'^'^"^  '°  ^'^""^  fr«»"  traditional  or 
even  nontraditional  homes  in  Bohemia,  Moravia,  Galicia,  and  Hun- 

gary  eagerly  acculturated.  Most  ceased  to  dress,  talk,  and  behave 

hke  small-town  "shtetl"  Jews  and  became  European  burghers   thev 

abandoned  Yiddish  for  German,  traditional  Jewis^h  namesfor  proper 

EuroT  T^''  ^'t'^  "T""''  ^""^  '^'  ''y^''  °^  nineteenth-century 
Europe.  They  exchanged  traditional  Jewish  economic  functions  for 
modern  urban  roles,  sometimes  becoming  highly  successful  busi 
nessmen,  industrialists,  and  professional«.  llneyMeLmed  ^^  h  Habs-' 
bürg  Austna,  with  the  German  Liberal  Party  that  had  brought  them 
emancpation  (even  after  the  party  abandoned  them  in  the  antisemhk 
hn-de-s.ecle),  and  especially  with  German  culture.  They  attended  the 
Gymnastum  and  university  in  record  numbers,  imbibed  Western  cul- 
ural  yalues  there,  and  participated  well  beyond  their  numbers  in 
cuhuTe        '^  PoP"'ation  as  producers  and  consumers  of  German 

Some  Viennese  Jews  went  beyond  acculturation.  For  some,  espe- 
cially ,n  the  Upper  classes,  Jewish  identity  was  often  attenuated,  and 
apart  from  constant  antisemitic  reminders  the  only  tie  to  it  was  in 
me  words  of  the  writer  Vicki  Baum,  a  "little,  Jewish"  grandfathe'r  '« 

baSlrordrTJ'"'   "'.°  T^  '"^'"^^^^  """^  ^--  ---'«ted 
myself  a  German,  my  Judaism  meant  little  to  me  "  " 

In  particular,  many  of  these  well-to-do,  articulate  Jews  abandoned 
Jewish  rehgious  practice.  Gertruds  Berliner,  for  example,  noted  in 
her  memoirs  that  she  grew  up  in  an  assimilated  environment  replete 
with  Chnstmas  tree,  Easter  eggs,  and  Visits  to  the  Catholic  church 

ZJ^"  7"t\  ''l""^'"^  ""''  ^»^''^•^°°^  '"  Vienna,  Toni  easter 
the  wife  of  philosopher  Ernst  Cassirer,  remarked  that  "we  were  raised 
without  religion.  Father's  family  hadn't  observed  the  rituarsforTree 
generahons.  .  ."  n  The  playwright  Arthur  Schnitzler,  desp  te  his 
avowed  Jewish  self-consciousness,  recalled  the  almost  total  absence 
of  Jewish  observance  in  his  family,  which  barely  observed  Yom 
Kippur,  the  Day  of  Atonement  and  holiest  day  of  the  Jewish  year 
Although  his  grandmother  fasted  and  prayed,  the  others  celebrated 
he  day  mamly  for  her  sake,  and  after  her  death  solely  out  of  a 
feeling  of  reverence  for  her."  Her  generation  fasted  on  Yom  Kippur 


Introduction    7 


.  .  .  lended  to  display  indifference  (o  the  spirit  of  lewish  refipinn 
nd  oppos,„on  someUm«  even  a  sarcaslic  ^„i,„de  .o    s  ,^S 

ioward  .11  oteervr„croMe±rX,„     '1  ,    '"^  "'«""''  '""'"'' 

wklely  available  to  the  Jews  in  Vien™  a  '''^P""''-^''  "eve, 

.o.a„y  assi^iated,  the  Jew^o  "viennaTn, „VX"eS  '2  aTeif 

zr:atot?r;St°"  ?h;C"  '""=■  ^^-"pp'nV  L'; 

that  if  thP  urZJr  T      following  pages  will  demonstrate 

prov  Ld  he  necesZir^  '"h 'f '  ?'"^^'  ^"™"^«-'  >'  ^'- 
fdentity  and^^arrt  on  7Sh^^^^^^^  T"""^'  ^^^^^»^ 

abandoned  many  of  the  JZtZtVk^^t^^^^^^         T' 
comn^unal  life  for  centuries  in  Central  and  Eas'em  Eur^  But  hev 

rytdTor  ^o^e^rntr^  t^'  urban  so^:r;int^:s 

diffe.ed  from  traditional  ones  but  were  nonetheless  distinctively  Jew 

paSrnslTbff^undTlh  °'  T'  ^*  ''^""'^^'^  ^^^^^  behavior 
hadZl^^l  f      1^^  '^''"^  °^  occupation.  Traditionally,  Jews 

wet  reSed  äs'?  ^^'n'T^  '''u'  '"'  ^°"'"^-^'  vocationsVw^h 
ZnL^  ^P'""y  ^^^''^-  '^^^  ^«^s  in  Vienna,  given  ereater 

economic  opportunities,  abandoned  the  old  Jewish  p  ofess^oSt 
stead  of  assimilating  into  the  economic  mainitrea^Towe^r  the, 
chose  a  new  role  as  salaried  employees  in  business  and  Inda  t 
Since  few  non-Jewish  Viennese  worked  as  non-govemmental  cS' 
salesmcn,  or  managers,  and  since  many  Jews  were  Ü^T  pmn^  j' 
a  new  identifiably  Jewish  occupation  haV  been  created  '    '    ' 


10    The  Jeivs  of  Vienna 


Introduction    1 1 


genuously  remarked  on  the  occasion  of  being  honored  by  B'nai  B'rith 
that  ''my  Service  to  the  Jewish  cause  is  confined  to  the  Single  point 
that  I  have  never  disowned  my  Jewishness."  ^^ 

Antisemitism  may  have  accentuated  the  Jewish  consciousness  of 
many,  but  it  did  not  create  Jewish  identity.  A  positive  Jewish  will 
to  survive  was  also  manifest  in  fin-de-siecle  Vienna.  Sigmund  Freud, 
more  than  any  other  famous  Viennese  Jew,  exemplified  this  proud 
assertion  of  Jewishness.  Freud  rejected  Judaism  as  a  religion,  but  he 
feit  deep  emotional  bonds  with  the  Jewish  people  and  pride  in  his 
Jewish  identity  and  heritage.^®  He  was  a  member  of  B'nai  B'rith  from 
1897,  honorary  president  of  the  Vienna  branch  of  YIVO  (Yiddish 
Research  Institute)  from  1919,  a  collector  of  Jewish  jokes  and  anec- 
dotes,  and  a  staunch  def ender  of  Jewish  honor.^^  In  1939  he  told 
the  London  branch  of  YIVO:  "You  no  doubt  know  that  I  gladly  and 
proudly  acknowledge  my  Jewishness  though  my  attitude  toward  any 
religion,  including  ours,  is  critically  negative."  *° 

Thus,  in  contrast  to  Ruppin's  dire  warnings,  while  urbanization 
certainly  facilitated  greater  Integration  of  Jews  into  European  society, 
it  also  created  a  Situation  in  which  Jews  could  redefine  themselves 
as  a  group  within  European  society.  The  process  of  urbanization 
itself  provided  the  impetus  for  forming  new  types  of  Jewish  group 
identity  and  caused  Jews  to  retreat  partially  from  the  push  for 
assimilation  at  work  since  the  beginning  of  the  nineteenth  Century. 

The  following  pages  will  focus  on  key  elements  in  the  process  of 
assimilation  and  on  the  conscious  and  unconscious  mechanisms  by 
which  Jews  preserved  their  group  identity  and  ensured  their  collective 
continuity.  Discussion  of  Jewish  migration  to  Vienna  provides  the 
necessary  demographic  framework  for  this  study.  The  divergent  back- 
grounds  and  expectations  of  Jewish  and  non-Jewish  immigrants  to 
Vienna  can  partially  explain  the  distinctive  Jewish  modes  of  accom- 
modation  to  urban  life.  In  order  to  understand  the  ways  in  which 
Jews  made  use  of  urban  opportunities,  this  book  will  analyze  the 
transformation  of  Jewish  economic  preference,  the  role  of  the  Gym- 
nasium in  ensuring  social  mobility  and  acculturation,  and  such  at- 
tempts  at  total  assimilation  as  intermarriage  and  conversion  to  Chris- 
tianity.  Lastly,  this  book  will  explore  the  brakes  which  the  Jews 
placed  on  their  assimilation,  including  the  establishment  of  Jewish 
neighborhoods,  and  the  creation  of  a  vast  network  of  political,  social, 
religious,  and  cultural  organizations  in  which  Jews  could  meet  each 
other  and  assert  new  forms  of  Jewish  identity. 

This  study  of  Viennese  Jewry  commences  in  1867  and  terminates 
in  1914.  In  1867,  the  same  year  as  the  Compromise  Agreement 
creating  Austria-Hungary,  the  Austrian  govemment  emancipated  the 
Jews,  that  is,  it  granted  them  equal  civil,  political,  and  religious  rights 


\: 


tx 


\i 


with  all  other  Austrian  Citizens.  In  one  stroke  the  Liberal  government 
removed  any  remaining  medieval  disabilities  on  Jewish  occupation, 
residence,  or  political  and  civil  rights.**  Jews  now  possessed  the 
opportunity  to  assimilate  and  indeed  the  government  encouraged 
them  to  do  so.  The  encouragement  was  unnecessary  as  Austrian  and 
similarly  emancipated  Hungarian  Jews  rushed  to  take  advantage  of 
the  new  opportunities.  The  beginning  of  World  War  I  provides  a 
natural  terminal  date  for  this  study.  The  war  resulted  in  the  dissolution 
of  the  Dual  Monarchy  and  the  creation  of  a  rump  Austrian  State  in 
its  former  German-speaking  territories.  Moreover,  during  the  war, 
large  numbers  of  Galician  Jews  fled  to  Vienna  to  escape  the  onslaught 
of  Russian  troops  who  unleased  waves  of  pogroms  against  them.*^ 
The  influx  of  these  Galician  Jews,  combined  with  the  new  problems 
of  the  Austrian  Republic,  created  a  Jewish  Community  which  differed 
markedly  from  its  prewar  predecessor. 

The  analysis  of  Jewish  assimilation  between  1867  and  1914  is 
based  primarily  on  several  quantifiable  sources:  Jewish  birth,  marriage, 
and  conversion  records,  the  registration  records  of  several  Gymnasien 
in  the  city,  and  the  tax  records  of  the  organized  Jewish  Community 
of' Vienna,  the  Israelitische  Kultusgemeinde,  commonly  called  the  Ge- 
meinde or  the  IKG.*^  Of  these,  the  birth  and  marriage  records  are 
valuable,  despite  their  bias  toward  the  more  youthful  members  of 
the  population,  because  they  provide  Information  on  geographical 
origins,  occupation,  and  residential  preference  of  a  cross  section  of 
Viennese  Jewry.  The  tax  records,  on  the  other  hand,  contain  similar 
data  only  on  the  older  and  more  affluent  members  of  the  Community. 
Austrian  law  required  all  Jews  to  belong  to  the  Gemeinde,  but  only 
those  prosperous  enough  to  pay  an  annual  tax  of  at  least  20  Kronen, 
approximately  one-third  of  Viennese  Jewry,  were  entered  in  the  IKG 
tax  roUs.  Samples  of  birth,  marriage,  and  tax  records,  the  first  two 
cross-sectional  and  young,  the  third  reflecting  the  middle  and  upper 
classes,  provide  insight  into  the  origins  and  social  composition  of 
the  Viennese  Jewish  Community  in  a  significant  period  of  growth. 
The  Gymnasium  and  conversion  records  offer  specific  Information  on 
education  as  a  vehicle  for  social  mobility  and  assimilation,  and  the 
extent  of  total  assimilation  into  Viennese  society. 

Records  such  as  those  studied  here  appear  to  contain  only  bare- 
bones  facts  about  Viennese  Jewry.  Nevertheless,  close  analysis  of 
them  reveals  a  good  deal  about  how  assimilation  affected  all  Viennese 
Jews,  not  just  the  articulate  elite  who  wrote  memoirs  of  their  own 
experiences.  Memoirs,  novels,  and  newspaper  stories,  although  in- 
timate  and  lively,  permit  an  understanding  of  only  a  thin  Stratum 
of  Viennese  Jews,  while  the  quantitative  data  enable  the  historian 
to  understand  social  forces  that  affected  the  entire  Jewish  Community. 


12    The  ]ews  of  Vienna 


On  the  other  band,  mentality,  mood,  Intention,  the  personal  element 
are  difficult  to  extract  from  Computer  printouts  but  abound  in  memoirs, 
novels,  and  newspaper  articles.  Neither  a  close  reading  of  such 
literature  nor  a  quantitative  study  offers  a  comprehensive  picture  of 
social  change  among  Viennese  Jews;  taken  together,  however,  they 
provide  a  deeper  understanding  of  Jewish  accommodation  to  modern 
life. 


li 


2.  The  Creation  of  Viennese 

Jewry:  Jewish  Migration 

to  Vienna,  1867-1914 


MORE  THAN  IN  MOST  European  cities,  the  process  of  Jewish 
assimilation  in  Vienna  was  intimately  connected  to  the  larger  phe- 
nomena  of  Jewish  migration  and  urbanization  in  the  nineteenth 
Century.  Almost  all  of  the  Jewish  residents  in  the  Austrian  capital 
were  immigrants  or  the  children  of  immigrants  who  arrived  in  the 
city  bnly  after  the  Austrian  government  lifted  the  traditional  restric- 
tions  on  Jewish  residence  during  the  Revolution  of  1848,  and  con- 
firmed  Jewish  residential  freedom  in  the  Emancipation  of  1867.  Ea- 
gerly  rushing  from  the  small  towns  and  cities  of  Austria-Hungary  to 
take  advantage  of  the  economic  and  cultural  opportunities  of  the 
Grossstadt,  Viennese  Jews  arrived  in  the  capital  with  a  wide  ränge 
of  prior  experiences  and  expectations  of  urban  life.  These  Jewish 
immigrants  were  very  different  from  gentile  immigrants  to  the  city. 
Moreover,  Jews  from  different  provinces  of  the  Dual  Monarchy  di- 
verged  from  each  other  in  terms  of  their  wealth,  previous  urban 
experience,  level  of  already  achieved  assimilation,  and  attitude  toward 
further  assimilation.  As  a  result,  Jews  from  Bohemia,  Moravia,  Galicia, 
and  Hungary  experienced  Vienna  differently.  Their  backgrounds 
slrongly  influenced  both  their  further  assimilation  and  their  allegiance 
to  some  sort  of  continued  Jewish  identity  in  the  Habsburg  capital. 

Jewish  migration  from  the  provinces  to  Vienna  was  of  course  part 
of  two  larger  population  movements  of  the  nineteenth  Century,  the 
urbanization  of  Austrians  and  Europeans  generally,  and  the  move- 
ment of  Central  and  Eastern  European  Jews  from  small  towns  into 
the  cities  and  overseas  to  the  United  States.  In  the  nineteenth  Century 
European  cities  grew  enormously.^  Men  and  women  left  their  home 
communities  and  moved  from  villages  to  towns,  from  provincial  cities 
to  major  metropolitan  centers.  Poor  peasants  abandoned  the  land  to 
work  in  the  newly  established  factories.  The  middle  classes  sought 


14    The  Jews  of  Vienna 


N 


The  Creation  of  Viennese  lewrv    15 


Map  2:1 


aimU  ^'°"°'""  °PP°^t""'««s  *at  only  the  large  cities  could 
offer.  The.r  m.grat.on  contributed  to  the  transformation  of  Europe 

urbTn'oIie  "^ricultural  society  to  a  commercial,  industrial,  and 

in  wht"h7h  '"  ^'•'"'"I','''  T"  '"'^  "'''''  P^°P'^  '^^*  »he  communities 

ätgkett  in  Austnan  legal  parlance),»  which  included  the  right  to  receive 
communal  charity  and  vote  in  communal  elections,  in  order  to  move 

oftheterm    Austna    is  in  order  (see  map  2:1).  After  the  Compromise 

^!TZt°!  T''  *'h  S'^""^^  '^^"''^•^y  ^-^-^  Austria-Hun! 
Ss  InH  .".'  ";''  'Hungary"  each  managing  its  own  internal 
affairs    and  united  only  m  a  common  foreign  policy  and  Foreign 

losenh    'A°T°"  T"^'  '"^  '"  ''''  P'^^°"  °^  '^'  Emperor  FraS 
oseph.    Austna    refers  to  all  those  provinces  which  were  represented 

in  the  Austnan  imperial  parliament,  the  Kekhsral,  in  Vienna  Stretch- 
Ih!'-"  '.  l^l  '^'^i-^»'^^^  around  the  Hungarian  crown  lands,  "Aus- 
tria  included  the  largely  German-speaking  Alpine  provinces  of  Tirol, 
Vorarlberg,  Salzburg,  as  well  as  Upper  and  Lower  Austria,  and  the 
blovene-  and  German-speaking  provinces  of  Styria  and  Carinthia  It 


cluded  In  Au  tr  a  S       al^ThrC^^^^^^^^^  Yc'  ^"'  ^^""'"'-  '" 
inrPQ  nf  R^K^    •        7^/'^°  f"e  Czech-  and  German-speakine  nrov- 

sylvania).  ,he  South  Slav  areSoTcroalU  anH?^'"  """"'^"*  ^'"'- 
P«-cen,age  „,  a„  aS^h^  chos'  „Zr^^e^"^,'«:^'^!? 

Population  8  Moreover    h  J    V  ^  to  11%  of  the  total  Austrian 

Lemberg  and  Cracow,  werf  thl^^teirg^  wi  ^  ^^tZ^Z 

3%^r:^6%T;^^^^^^^^^^^^  or  betweTn 

in  1869  to  2  031  498  in  i  o^n  f'Zut  '"  *''''  P^"°'^'  f'""'"  ^07,514 
thP  ison    ^'"^^'^^^  '"  ^^10,"  although  much  of  this  growth  reflects 
the  1890  incorporation  of  the  suburbs.  In  Hungary   Budaoest's  non 
ulation  near  y  doubied  betwepn  is«n  =.«,^  -lonn  S'"^y'  ouaapests  pop- 
tn  71 A  17Ä  .      .    oetween  1  ööü  and  1900,  growing  from  360  551 

to  716,376,  a  rate  of  nearly  5%  a  year '^  ^i^oov,03i 

Nineteenth-century  Jews  were  also  on  the  move  in  Europe  eenerallv 

e^s  eCared'tm 'r  '''T'  '""''''^  ^"^  PersecuL'Tas^^ 
jews  emigrated  from  Russia,  Rumania,  and  the  Austrian  province 


16    The  Jews  of  Vienna 


The  Creation  of  Viennese  Jewry    17 


of  Galicia  to  the  United  States.^^  Central  and  Eastern  European  Jews 
also  flocked  to  the  eitles.'*  Traditionally  excluded  from  agricultural 
occupations,  European  Jews  had  always  been  an  urban,  rather  than 
a  rural  group.  Nevertheless,  living  in  small  towns  and  acting  as 
middlemen  between  the  urban  and  rural  markets,  the  Jews  had  been 
an  integral  part  of  the  rural  economy.  In  the  course  of  the  nineteenth 
Century,  Jews  in  increasing  numbers  left  the  countryside  for  the  larger 
towns  and  eitles.  In  Russia,  this  phenomenon  was  partly  the  result 
of  governmental  policy  to  eliminate  the  Jews  from  the  rural  economy 
and  end  their  supposedly  malevolent  influence  on  the  peasants."  In 
Austria-Hungary  or  Germany,  the  urbanization  of  the  Jews  was  not 
caused  by  any  governmental  anti-Jewish  pressure,  but  was  a  spon- 
taneous  response  to  the  changes  introduced  by  legal  and  civil  eman- 
cipation.  Freed  from  traditional  restrictions,  and  attracted  by  the 
greater  economic,  social,  and  cultural  opportunities  elsewhere,  Jews 
successfully  created  a  new  life  whether  in  America  or  in  the  eitles 
of  Germany,  Austria-Hungary,  and  Russia. 

Urbanization  was  the  most  salient  feature  of  Jewish  demographic 
change  in  Austria-Hungary  in  the  late  nineteenth  Century.  As  a  result, 
Jews  concentrated  more  heavily  in  cities  than  any  other  Austrians 
or  Hungarians.  Only  10.6%  of  all  Austrians — including  the  Jews — 
lived  in  the  ten  largest  cities  of  Austria  in  1900,  but  23.3%  of  Austrian 
Jews  lived  there.  Similarly,  in  Hungary  only  6.4%  of  all  Christians 
lived  in  the  eleven  largest  cities,  but  26.1%  of  the  Jews  in  1900  did 
so.'^  In  Galicia  in  particular  Jews  much  more  than  non-Jews  con- 
centrated in  cities.  In  1900,  only  7.3%  of  all  Galicians  (including 
Jews)  lived  in  the  forty  cities  with  over  10,000  inhabitants,  but  over 
one-third  of  all  Jews  did.'^  Moreover,  within  most  Austrian  and 
Hungarian  cities  Jews  formed  a  noticeable  minority.  In  western  Aus- 
trian cities  like  Vienna,  Prague,  and  Brunn,  Jews  composed  only 
about  8-9%  of  the  city  population,  but  eastern  Austrian  cities  like 
Lemberg,  Cracow,  and  Czernowitz  were  between  one-quarter  and 
one-third  Jewish,  and  many  county  seats  in  Galicia  and  Bukovina 
contained  a  Jewish  majority.'®  The  same  was  true  in  Hungary,  where 
the  county  seats  had  very  large  Jewish  populations,  and  Budapest, 
with  one-quarter  of  its  population  Jews,  was  often  pejoratively  called 
Judapest.'' 

Urban  Jewish  population  growth  was  most  spectacular  in  Vienna. 
In  1857,  only  about  1%  of  all  Austrian  Jews  lived  in  the  capital;  by 
1900,  13%  of  all  Austrian  Jews  were  Viennese.  Almost  no  Jews 
resided  in  the  Residenzstadt  in  1850,  but  the  Community  grew  at 
such  a  rapid  rate  that  by  World  War  I  there  were  almost  200,000 
Jews  in  the  city  (Table  2:1).^° 


Table  2:1.  Jewish  Population  in  Vienna,  1787-1910 


Year 


f 


Number  of  Jews 


Number 
of  Viennese 


Jewish  %  of 
Total  Population 


1787 

532  or  230  (1784) 

207,405 

1800 

903  or  310 

231,049 

1830 

975  or  1,270 

317,768 

1847 

1,588  or  4,000* 

402,501 

1857 

6,217** 

284,999** 
476,222*** 

2.2% 

1869 

40,230« 

607,514» 

6.6%« 

1880 

73,222 

726,105 

10.1% 

1890 

118,495 

1,364,548»« 

8.7% 

1900 

146,926 

1,674,957 

8.8% 

1910 

175,318 

2,031,498 

8.6% 

*  See  discussion  below. 

**The   1857  census  counted  only   the  einheimisch  residents,   i.e.,  those   who  had 
Viennese  Heimatrecht.  This  number  represents  only  those  who  had  legal  domiciliary 
rights  in  Vienna. 
***lhe  1857  census  estimate  of  the  number  of  actual  residents  in  Vienna. 

•  Beginning  in  1869  all  Austrian  censuscs  enumerated  the  actual  resident  population. 
•«Viennese  increase  so  large  over  1880  because  of  the  1890  incorporation  of  the 

suburbs  as  Districts  XI-XIX  of  the  city.  Few  Jews  lived  in  the  outer  districts. 
Sourtes:  Bevölkerung  und  Viehstand,  1857,  "Niedcr-Oesterreich,"  pp.  2-3;  Bevölkerung 
und  Viehstand,  1869,  Vol.  11  (Nieder-Oesterreich),  pp.  2-13;  Ost.  Stat.,  1:2, 
pp.  2-3;  32:1,  pp.  46-47;  63:1,  pp.  48-49;  N.F.  2:1,  p.  33*;  SjSW  (1885),  p. 
14;  SjSW  (1910),  p.  25;  Jeiteles,  pp.  40-42;  Low,  pp.  161-63. 

Before  the  Revolution  of  1848  the  Imperial  Government  permitted 
few  Jews  to  live  in  Vienna.  Certain  wealthy  Jewish  individuals,  such 
as  the  court  factor  Samuel  Oppenheimer,  were  "tolerated,"  that  is, 
given  special  royal  privileges  to  live  in  the  Hauptstadt  (capital  city), 
along  with  members  of  their  families,  their  servants,  and  employees.^^ 
Hstimates  vary  as  to  the  real  number  of  Jews  in  Vienna  during  this 
Toleranzperiode,  and  the  two  which  exist  are  both  probably  short  of 
the  actual  number.  Israel  Jeiteles,  calculating  total  population  from 
the  number  of  tolerated  Jewish  families,  argued  that  there  were  about 
1,600  Jews  in  Vienna  in  1847.^^  Akos  Low,  however,  made  a  case 
for  double  that  number.  He  compared  the  percentage  of  recorded 
Jewish  births,  deaths,  and  marriages  to  those  for  Viennese  generally, 
and  thus  derived  the  percentage  and  number  of  Jews  in  the  population 
at  large.  He  reported  that  there  were  about  230  Jews  in  Vienna  in 
1784,  310  in  1800,  1,270  in  1830,  and  approximately  4,000  Jews  in 
the  capital  in  1848."  Since  the  Jewish  birth,  death,  and  marriage 
rates  differed  from  the  general  Viennese  rates  in  the  later  decades 
of  the  nineteenth  Century,  in  all  likelihood  they  also  differed  earlier 
in  the  Century,  especially  since  the  pre-1848  Community  was  a  wealthy 
one.  It  is  impossible,  however,  to  arrive  at  any  better  estimate  of 
the  Jewish  population. 


^^     ilic  ]cwb  oj  Vicniia 


In  the  decades  which  followed  the  1848  lifting  of  restrictions  on 
Jewjsh  res,dence  in  Vienna,  and  especially  after  the  1 867  emancipation 
%  u,  ^n?'  ^'t"^''^  Population  of  Vienna  grew  extremely  rapidly 
(Table  2:2).  In  the  1860s,  the  Community  grew  46%  each  Lr  The 
growth  rate  calculated  for  the  period  1857-1869  is,  however,' arti- 

only  native  (emhemtsch)  Jews,  always  a  small  percentage  of  the  total 
Jewish  Population  of  the  city.  During  the  1880s,  the  Viennese  Jewish 
Community  experienced  its  largest  absolute  growth.  As  the  Community 

frZl'T'-  u^%  "  ''"'''"'  '"^"'^  °^  newcomers,  the  relative 
growth  dimmished.  Even  so,  until  the  1890s,  Jewish  population  grew 
at^a  h,gher  rate  than  that  of  the  general  population  of  Vienna  (Table 

The  expansion  of  the  Jewish  Community  was,  of  course,  not  the 

result  of  natural  increase,  but  of  the  massive  influx  of  Jews  from 

o  her  parts  of  the  Dual  Monarchy.»  Non-Jews  also  migrated  to  Vienna 

at  this  time,  but  immigration  provided  a  much  larger  proportion  of 

V.ennese  Jewish  population  growth  than  it  did  in  the  population  at 

large.  At  the  end  of  the  Century,  about  45%  of  all  Viennese  were 

natiye  born,  but  only  about  20%  of  the  Jews  had  been  born  in  the 
capital.26  '"^ 

Jewish  immigrants  to  Vienna  may  have  participated  in  alareer 
Austrian  population  movement,  but  when  they  arrived  in  the  citv- 
as  indeed  after  they  had  lived  in  the  city  for  decades-they  were  a 
unique  group,  profoundly  different  from  non-Jewish  immigrants  Jews 
migrated  for  uniquely  Jewish  reasons,  and  they  came  from  different 
areas  of  Austna-Hungary  than  did  non-Jewish  immigrants.  Moreover 

but  not  nearly  so  widespread  in  non-Jewish  circles.  Finally    unlike 
most  immigrants,  Jews  were  not  peasants  unaccustomed  to  city  life. 

Table  2:2.  Growth  Rate,  Jewish  and  General  Population  of  Vienna.  1857-1910 


Year 


Jewish 
Growth 


1857-69 
1869-80 
1880-90 

1890-1900 
1900-1910 


%  Jewish  %  General 

Growth       %  Per  Year        Growth 


%  Per  Year 


34,013 
32,992 
45,273 

28,431 
24,392 


547% 
82% 
61.8% 

24.0% 
19.3% 


45.6% 
7.5% 
6.2% 

2.4% 
1.9% 


27.6%* 

19.5% 

87.9%** 

12.6%*** 

22.7% 

21.3% 


2.3%* 

1.8% 

8.8%** 

1.2%*** 

2.3%, 

2.1%> 


•Calculated  from  estimate  of  actual  population  for  1857  and  actual  population  for 

*♦*♦  S'^'^^u  '^^^  »"<^J"d'ng  newly  incorporated  suburbs 

Growth  rate  in   Districts  I-X,   which  had  been  the  entire  citv  of  ViPnn.  ir.  .i 
previous  census  in  1880  ^        Vienna  in  Ihe 


i 


The  Creation  of  Viennese  Jeivry    19 


Ü 


On  the  contrary,  Jews  had  lived  in  towns  and  cities  and  thus  were 
able  to  make  the  necessary  adjustments  to  life  in  the  metropolis 
more  easily  than  non-Jews.  The  unique  Situation  of  Jewish  immigrants 
was  an  important  factor  in  their  continued  distinctiveness  in  Vienna. 
Unlike  most  cities  which  only  attracted  immigrants  from  their 
immediate  provincial  hinterlands,  Vienna  did  draw  a  diverse  im- 
migrant  population.27  But  Jewish  and  gentile  immigrants  to  Vienna 
came   from  different  areas  of  the  Dual  Monarchy.   Unfortunately, 
official  statistics  did  not  differentiate  between  Jews  and  non-Jews,' 
and  thus  it  is  impossible  to  ascertain  the  origins  of  gentiles  as  distinct 
from  all  Viennese.  The  typical  immigrant  to  Vienna  came  either  from 
Lower  Austria,  the  province  in  which  Vienna  was  located,  or  from 
Bohemia  and  Moravia,  the  Czech  lands  to  the  north  and  northwest 
of  the  city  (Table  2:3).  In  1890,  for  example,  45%  of  all  Viennese— 
including  the  Jews— were  native  born,  and  11%  were  Lower  Austrian. 
Fully  30%  of  all  Viennese,  and  50%  of  all  the  immigrants  came  from 
Bohemia  and  Moravia.  Virtually  no  men  and  women  left  their  homes 
in  the  Alpine  or  coastal  provinces,  or  in  Galicia  and  Bukovina  to 
live  in  Vienna.  Hungarians  sometimes  moved  to  the  Austrian  capital 
of  the  Dual  Monarchy,  and  between  7%  and  9%  of  all  Viennese 
had  legal  residence  rights  in  Hungary.^» 

In  Order  to  determine  the  geographical  origins  of  the  entire  Jewish 
Community,  and  thus  correct  for  the  youthful  bias  of  the  two  cross- 
sectional  Jewish  populations  studied  here  (grooms  and  fathers),^^  it 
was  necessary  to  combine  the  data  from  all  five  sample  years'and 
generate  some  average  statistics.  According  to  this  1870-1910  com- 
posite  (Table  2:4),  in  contrast  to  typical  Viennese,  Jews  divided  fairly 
evenly  into  groups  born  in  Vienna,  Bohemia  and  Moravia,  Galicia, 
and  Hungary.  On  the  average,  the  major  difference  between  the 
general  and  the  Jewish  migration  to  Vienna  lay  in  the  importance 
of  Galicia  and  Hungary  as  provinces  of  origin.  Hungary,  of  secondary 
significance  as  the  birthplace  of  all  Viennese  men  and  women,  was 
the  original  home  of  almost  one-quarter  of  the  Jews  in  the'  city. 
Moreover,  only  2%  of  all  Viennese— including  the  Jews— were  Gal- 
ician,  but  one-fifth  of  all  Viennese  Jews  were  born  in  that  Polish- 
Ruthene  province.  Because  one-quarter  of  the  Viennese  Jewish  Com- 
munity had  been  born  in  Bohemia  and  Moravia,  it  would  appear  as 
if  these  two  provinces  enjoyed  equal  significance  as  recruiting  grounds 
for  Jewish  and  non-Jewish  immigrants.  In  fact,  however,  half  of  all 
immigrants  to  Vienna  but  only  one-third  of  the  Jewish  immigrants 
(i.e.,  those  not  born  in   Vienna)  came  from  these  two  provinces. 
Unlike  typical  Viennese,  the  Jews  in  Vienna  almost  never  were  born 
in  Lower  Austria,  a  province  in  which  few  Jews  had  ever  lived.  Due 
to  the  immigrant  origins  of  the  Jewish  Community,  half  as  many 


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T/ie  Creation  of  Vienrtese  Jewry    21 


Jews  as  Viennese  generally  were  native-born  Viennese.  The  pattern 
of  Jewish  migration  to  Vienna  described  here  reflected,  to  some  extent, 
the  residential  concentration  of  Austro-Hungarian  Jewry  generally. 
In  1857,  at  the  beginning  of  the  migration,  40%  of  all  Jews  in  the 
Habsburg  Monarchy  lived  in  Hungary,  46%  in  Galicia  and  Bukovina, 
and  13%  in  Bohemia,  Moravia,  and  Silesia.^o 

Looking  at  the  average  picture  created  here  obscures  the  fact  that 
indeed  the  Viennese  Jewish  Community  was  created  by  three  over- 
lapping  waves  of  migration  from  these  different  areas  of  the  Dual 
Monarchy.  The  youthful  bias  of  the  cross-sectional  samples  provides 
especially  good  insight  into  the  changing  patterns  of  Viennese  Jewish 
immigration  (Table  2:5).  The  first  Jews  in  the  city,  those  who  possessed 
imperial  patents  of  toleration,  were  overwhelmingly  Bohemian  and 
Moravian.  When  residential  restrictions  were  lifted  in  the  1850s  and 
1860s,  Czech  Jews  migrated  to  Vienna  in  large  numbers.  They  were 
quickly  overtaken,  however,  by  the  second  wave  of  migrants,  those 
from  Hungary.  The  Hungarian  influx  continued  through  the  1880s 
but  began  to  taper  off  due  to  Magyarization  in  Hungary  in  the  1890s 
and  afterwards.  The  third  wave  of  migration  consisted  of  Jews  from 
Galicia  who  arrived  only  in  the  final  decades  before  the  First  World 
War.3> 

Information  on  the  geographica!  origins  of  the  pre-1848  Jewish 
Community  is  spotty  at  best.  In  the  period  between  1784,  when 
Emperor  Joseph  II  ordered  Jews  to  begin  recording  their  births, 
marriages,  and  deaths,^^  and  1848,  the  percentage  of  Czech  Jews  in 
the  Jewish  Community  of  Vienna  declined  as  the  percentage  of 
Hungarian  Jews  increased.  In  his  study  of  the  social  structure  of 

Table  2:4.  Place  of  Birth  of  jewish  Groonts,  Cotnposite,  1870-1910 


Land 


Number  of  Grooms 


Percent 


Vienna 

Olher  Lower  Austria 

Bohemia 

Moravia 

Silesia 

Galicia 

Bukovina 

Othcr  Austria 

Hungary 

Other  Foreign* 


178 

21 
104 
129 

14 
167 

14 

3 

204 

43 

N  =  877** 


20.3 

2.4 
11.9 
14.7 

1.6 
19.0 

1.6 

0.3 
23.3 

4.9 

100.0% 


♦  "Other  Foreign"  includes  13  grooms  from  Germany,  13  from  Russia,  5  from  Rumania, 

8  from  the  Balkans,  and  4  from  other  areas. 
•♦  Differences  in  Ns  and  Total  Sample  Size  in  this  and  all  subsequent  tables  caused 

by  missing  information. 


Li 


Table  2:5.  Place  of  Birth  of  Jewish  Fathers,  n69-1910 


Overall* 
N  =  1060 


1869 

N  =  324 


1880 
N  =  146 


1890** 
N  =  179 


1900 
N  =  241 


1910 
N  =  170 


Vienna 
Other 

Lower  Austria 
Bohemia 
Moravia 
Silesia 
Galicia 
Bukovina 
Other  Austria 
Hungary 
Other  Foreign 


17.6% 

1.2 

8.2 
12.5 

0.8 
18.0 

1.0 

0.4 
35.8 

4.3 


21.3% 

0.6 

8.6 
13.0 

0.3 
10.5 

0.3 

42.3 

3.1 


11.6% 


11.0 
15.1 

0.7 
13.7 

1.4 

44.5 
2.1 


16.8% 

3.4 

8.4 
14.0 

1.1 
15.6 

1.1 

1.1 
35.8 

2.8 


16.2% 

0.4 

7.1 
12.9 

1.7 
20.7 

0.8 

33.6 
6.6 


18.2% 

2.9 
6.5 
7.6 

34.7 

2.9 

0.6 
19.4 

7.1 


100.0%         100.0%        100.0%        100.0%        100.0%        100.0% 


•Overall  statistics  are  based  on  birthland  for  1869,  1880,  1900,  and  1910  and  on 
Heimatland  for  1890,  the  year  in  which  land  of  birth  was  not  indicated  in  'the  birth 
records. 

**  Heimatland  figures. 

Viennese  Jews  in  this  period,  Akos  Low  discovered  that,  between 
1784  and  1806,  20%  of  the  Jews  in  Vienna  were  Bohemian  or 
Moravian,  21.3%  were  Hungarian,  17.8%  were  native,  and  24.7% 
were  of  unknown  origin.  In  the  twenty  years  preceding  the  Revolution 
of  1848  only  19.7%  were  Czech,  but  33.5%  were  Hungarians,  22.9% 
were  native-born,  and  11.7%  were  of  unknown  origins.  At  this  time 
virtually  no  Galician  Jews  lived  in  Vienna."  ' 

By  the  end  of  the  1850s,  the  majority  of  Jews  in  Vienna  were 
Hungarian.  According  to  a  recent  study  of  the  manuscript  census  for 
1857,  only  about  15%  of  the  Jews  in  that  year  came  from  Moravia, 
and  4%  from  Bohemia.  Twenty  percent  of  the  Jews  were  native- 
born,  and  Galicians  accounted  for  about  10%  of  the  population.^^ 

After  the  Emancipation  of  the  Jews  in  1867,  Jews  streamed  into 
Vienna  from  Bohemia,  Moravia,  Hungary,  and  GaHcia,  with  the 
Hungarians  at  the  fore.  In  1880  (Table  2:5)  26%  of  Jewish  fathers 
were  Bohemian  and  Moravian,  14%  were  Galician,  and  45%,  or 
almost  half,  were  Hungarian.  Hungarian  migration  accelerated  rapidly 
through  the  1880s,  then  began  to  taper  off  in  the  1890s  and  drop 
considerably  by  1910.  In  1869,  42%  of  all  Jewish  fathers  were 
Hungarian,  but  in  1910,  only  19%  were  Hungarian.35  Immigration 
from  Czech  lands  also  continued  to  decline,  and  in  1910  half  as 
many  fathers  were  from  Bohemia,  Moravia,  and  Silesia  as  in  1880. 
Only  at  the  very  end  of  the  nineteenth  Century  did  Galician  Jews 
begin  to  move  to  Vienna  in  large  numbers.  By  so  doing  they  gradually 
transformed  a  Hungarian  and  Czech  Community  into  a  Galician  one. 
Only  11%  of  the  Jewish  fathers  in  1869  were  Galician,  but  by  1910 


i 


•  1ullv  35%  of  the  fathers  were  bom  in  Galicia.  At  the  same  time  the 
percentaee  of  native-born  Jews,  which  had  declined  between  1869 
and  1880  because  of  the  influx  of  immigrants  after  emancipation, 
also  grew  slowly  but  steadily  from  12%  in  1880  to  18%  in  1910 

These  Jewish  immigrants  came  to  Vienna  to  stay.  Unlike  gentile 
immigrants,  Jews  generally  migrated  with  the  hope,  at  least,  of  finding 
permanent  residence  in  the  city.  Most  nineteenth-century  immigrants 
moved  to  towns  and  cities,  and  then,  more  often  than  not,  quickly 
departed  to  seek  their  fortunes  elsewhere.  Transiency,  not  perma- 
nence,  was  the  hallmark  of  urban  life.^^  Jews,  however,  rarely  pos- 
sessine  the  luxury  of  returning  to  their  former  homes,  remained  m 
their  new  locations  and  made  great  efforts  to  adjust  to  their  new 

life  ^^  u 

Without  the  manuscript  census  it  is  impossible  to  determine  the 

exact  extent  of  Jewish  transiency  and  persistence  The  birth  and 
marriage  records  do  not  lend  themselves  to  this  kind  of  analysis. 
The  tax  rolls  of  the  Israelitische  Kultusgemeinde  do  permit  an  mquiry 
into  the  stability  of  the  Jewish  Community,  but  only  for  the  middle 
and  Upper  classes,  the  group  which  was  the  most  like  y  to  rema.n 
in  the  City."  Poorer  Jews  were  probably  more  wilUng  to  leave  Vienna 
than  the  affluent,  and  thus  judging  Jewish  transiency  on  the  basis 
of  taxpayers  alone  is  somewhat  unfair.  Unfortunately,  there  is  no 
wav  of  rectifying  the  problems  with  the  sources. 

The  Jews  who  paid  taxes  to  the  Gemeinde  tended  to  remam  in 
Vienna  a  long  time.  FuUy  53.8%  of  all  Gemeinde  members  retained 
their  membership  for  over  ten  years,  and  most  of  these,  or  30.6  /o, 
were  members  for  over  twenty  years.''  Only  29.5%  were  members 
for  five  years  or  less.  Figures  for  long-term  membership  would  be 
higher  if  statistics  were  induded  from  beyond  1914,  the  termina 
date  of  this  study.  The  riebest  Gemeinde  members  were  the  mos 
likely  to  remain  in  the  city.  Of  those  who  after  an  initial  tax  assessment 
were  reassessed  and  paid  between  100  and  499  Kronen  each  year 
to  the  IKG  (N  =  114),  78.9%  remained  Gemeinde  members  more  than 
ten  years,  and  very  few  (7%)  less  than  five  years.  Of  those  whose 
firstLsessment  was  in  this  bracket,  63.7%  remained  m  the  Geme,«d 
more  than  ten  years,  and  21%   more  than  31  years    Death    not 
transiency,  was  the  primary  reason  for  ending  affiliation  with  the 

Gemeinde.  ,  .      ..  j  ,  »fu 

Unlike  many  non-Jewish  immigrants,  most  Jews  migrated  with 
their  families,"  and  not  as  Single  individuals.  Consequent  y  Jewish 
women  in  Vienna  came  from  the  same  areas  of  the  Dual  Monarchy 
as  Jewish  men.  Jewish  women  ignored  the  "rules"  of  female  migra- 
tion, and  like  men,  moved  long  distances  from  the  provinces  to 
Vienna.  Gentile  women,  moving  mostly  for  the  purposes  of  marriage 


XZ 


i 


26    The  Jeivs  of  Vienna 


Table  2:7.  Regio«  of  Origin  of  ]ewish  Grooms,  Brides,  and  IKG  Taxpayers,  Composite, 

1870-1910 


Grooms* 

Brides* 

IKG 

Taxpayers 

(1855-1914)** 

# 

% 

# 

% 

# 

% 

Lower  Austria 

Vienna 

178 

89.4 

339 

93.4 

809 

99.1 

Near  Vienna 

9 

4.5 

11 

3.0 

2 

0.2 

Not  Near  Vienna 

8 

4.0 

12 

3.3 

5 

-        0.6 

Unspec. 

4 

2.0 

1 

0.3 

0 

0.0 

Total 

199 

363 

816 

Bohemia 

Central 

23 

22.1 

12 

18.5 

66 

29.7 

Northwest 

14 

13.5 

6 

9.2 

34 

15.3 

Northeast 

22 

21.2 

11 

16.9 

28 

12.6 

Southeast 

20 

19.2 

23 

35.4 

58 

26.1 

Southwest 

18 

17.3 

10 

15.4 

27 

12.2 

Unspec. 

7 

6.7 

3 

4.6 

9 

4.1 

Total 

104 

65 

222 

Moravia 

South 

103 

79.8 

80 

72.7 

138 

65.4 

North 

24 

18.6 

26 

23.6 

71 

33.6 

Unspec. 

2 

1.6 

4 

3.6 

2 

0.9 

Total 

129 

110 

211 

Galicia 

West 

35 

21.0 

34 

27.6 

38 

24.1 

Central 

24 

14.4 

14 

11.4 

15 

9.5 

Northeast 

79 

47.3 

57 

46.3 

85 

53.8 

Southeast 

28 

16.8 

15 

12.2 

13 

8.2 

Unspec. 

1 

0.6 

3 

2.4 

7 

4.4 

Total 

167 

123 

158 

Hungary 

Left  Dan  übe 

89 

43.6 

62 

42.2 

203 

40.5 

Right  Danube 

52 

25.5 

42 

28.6 

98 

19.6 

Danube/Tisza 

30 

14.7 

19 

12.9 

99 

19.8 

Right  Tisza 

4 

2.0 

— - 

^— 

18 

3.6 

Left  Tisza 

5 

2.5 

3 

2.0 

9 

1.8 

Tisza/Maros 

6 

2.9 

6 

4.1 

14 

2.8 

Transylvania 

0 

2 

1.4 

1 

0.2 

Fiume 

0 

— 

^— 

4 

0.8 

Croatia/Slavonia 

4 

2.0 

5 

3.4 

17 

3.4 

Unspec. 

14 

6.9 

8 

5.4 

38 

7.6 

Total 

204 

147 

501 

*  Based  on  place  of  birth. 
**  Based  on  Heimatland. 


The  Creation  of  Viennese  Jewry    27 


Probably  because  there  was  little  regional  Variation  in  the  cause 
for  their  migration,  Bohemian  and  Moravian  Jews  moved  to  Vienna 
more  or  less  in  proportion  to  their  regional  distribution  at  home. 
Most  Moravian  Jews  lived  in  the  southern  part  of  the  province,*' 
and  three-quarters  of  Moravian  Jews  in  Vienna  were  born  in  southern 
Moravia.  Minor  regional  variations  in  the  causes  for  migration  from 
Galicia  did  lead  to  differences  between  the  regional  origins  of  Galician 
Jews  in  Vienna  and  the  regional  distribution  of  Galician  Jews  at 
home.  In  particular,  although  25%  of  all  Galician  Jews  lived  in 
southeast  Galicia  near  the  Hungarian  border,'^'  only  12%  of  Galician 
Jews  in  Vienna  (average  of  grooms,  brides,  and  IKG  taxpayers)  came 
from  the  southeastern  region  of  the  province.  Jews  from  western, 
central,  and  northeast  Galicia,  however,  eagerly  migrated  to  Vienna 
(Table  2:7). 

In  Hungary,  however,  there  was  great  regional  Variation  in  the 
causes  for  Jewish  migration.  Thus  Hungarian  Jews  did  not  migrate 
to  Vienna  in  proportion  to  their  dispersion  at  home.  Almost  all 
Hungarian  Jews  in  Vienna,  about  70%  of  men  and  women  alike, 
left  western  Slovakia  and  western  Hungary,  the  regions  on  both 
sides  of  the  Danube  River  relatively  close  to  Vienna  itself  (Table 
2:7).  The  bulk  of  the  remainder  of  Hungarian  Jews  in  Vienna  came 
from  the  district  between  the  Danube  and  Tisza  Rivers,  the  region 
which  included  the  city  of  Budapest.  Only  a  scattered  few  were  born 
in  the  central  or  eastern  districts  of  Hungary,  where  most  Hungarian 
Jews  resided.  In  1900,  36%  of  all  Hungarian  Jews  lived  in  the  two 
northeastern  regions  on  both  sides  of  the  Tisza  River,'^  but  only  4% 
of  Hungarian  Jews  in  Vienna  were  born  in  this  sub-Carpathian  area. 
True,  22%  of  Hungarian  Jewry  lived  in  the  two  western  regions,  but 
that  figure  is  much  smaller  than  the  percentage  of  Hungarian  Jews 
in  Vienna  from  those  areas.  Within  Hungary,  30%  of  all  Jews  lived 
between  the  Danube  and  Tisza  Rivers,  almost  all  in  Budapest,  but 
only  16%  of  the  Hungarian  Jews  in  Vienna  were  born  there. 

Like  all  other  immigrants,  Jews  moved  to  Vienna  for  a  variety  of 
positive  and  negative  economic,  political,  and  psychological  reasons. 
Jews,  however,  migrated  to  the  city  for  reasons  which  were  unique 
to  Austro-Hungarian  Jews.  Vienna  certainly  offered  them  greater 
economic  and  cultural  opportunities,  as  well  as  more  prestige  and 
Status.  It  also  provided  an  escape  from  provincial  antisemitism  which 
was  often  expressed  in  economic  pressure  against  Jewish  merchants 
and  traders,  with  Jewish  poverty  the  result.  Vienna  itself  was  the 
scene  of  antisemitic  demagoguery,  but  Czech,  Polish,  and  Hungarian 
Jews  feit  such  strong  linguistic,  cultural,  and  ideological  ties  to  the 
city  that  its  antisemitism  paled  beside  its  great  attractiveness  to  them. 


n 


"that  unquenchable  thirst  to  drink  deeply  of  German  culture  and 
language."  so  jhe  Viennese  Zionist  Isidor  Schallt  noted: 

The  Jews,  throughout  the  entire  nineteenth  Century,  were  entirely  Ger- 
man. They  were  German  through  their  education,  because  German 
cuhure  dominated  in  the  multi-lingual  Empire.  .  .  .  The  Jews  were 
German  because  to  them  the  German  people  in  Austria  were  the  symbol 
of  freedom  and  progress.®* 

Finally,  Jews  chose  to  move  to  Vienna  because  they  identified  it 
with  the  liberal,  progressive  forces  which  had  granted  them  eman- 
cipation  in  1867,  and  with  the  German  Liberal  Party  to  which  they 
were  staunchly  loyal,  even  after  the  Liberais  abandoned  the  Jews 
and  many  Austro-Germans  embraced  antisemitism."  Galician  Jews 
in  particular  revered  Vienna  as  the  home  of  the  Liberalism  which 
had  freed  the  Jews  from  age-old  disabilities."  Despite  the  growth  of 
antisemitism  in  Vienna  itself,  Austrian  Jews  continued  to  regard  Franz 
Joseph's  Residenzstadt  as  a  kind  of  political  oasis. 

Concerned  with  the  preservation  of  their  rights,  Austrian  Jews 
staunchly  supported  the  Habsburg  multinational  Empire.  It  was  only 
natural  for  a  group  described  as  "the  only  Austrians  in  Austria"  »< 
to  choose  to  live  in  the  city  which  was  the  home  of  the  other  pan- 
Austrian  institutions:  the  emperor,  the  civil  service,  and  the  army. 
Excluded  by  antisemitism  and  their  pro-Habsburg  orientation  from 
the  Czech  or  Polish  national  camps,  Jews  would  logically  move  to 
the  Austrian  capital. 

Characteristics  of  Jewish  Immigrants 

The  Jews  who  responded  to  these  challenges  and  attractions  and 
who  arrived  in  Vienna  in  the  Czech,  Hungarian,  or  Galician  waves 
of  migration  came  from  a  wide  ränge  of  economic,  cultural,  and 
religious  backgrounds.  Consequently,  they  brought  with  them  dif- 
ferent  expectations  of  urban  life  and  different  attitudes  toward  the 
impact  of  Vienna  on  their  assimilation  and  their  continued  Jewish 
identity.  It  is,  unfortunately,  impossible  to  determine  how  religious 
these  immigrants  were,  either  when  they  first  arrived,  or  after  years 
of  living  in  Vienna.  It  is  also  impossible  to  ascertain  from  computer- 
readable  data  the  extent  to  which  they  had  already  acculturated  and 
assimilated  before  they  migrated  to  the  Grossstadt.  It  is  possible, 
however,  to  determine  their  relative  economic  prosperity  as  well  as 
the  extent  to  which  Jewish  immigrants  were  urban  dwellers  before 
they  moved  to  Vienna.  The  different  levels  of  wealth  and  prior  urban 


3S 


experience  of  the  Jews  in  the  three  waves  of  migration  were  important 
factors  in  shaping  the  different  attitudes  of  Bohemian,  Moravian, 
Hungarian,  and  Galician  Jews  toward  assimilation. 

Those  Jews  who  migrated  in  the  early  waves  of  Immigration  from 
Bohemia,  Moravia,  and  Hungary  were  relatively  prosperous.  Moving 
to  take  advantage  of  new  opportunities,  these  Jews  easily  achieved 
a  certain  measure  of  wealth  and  respectability  after  settling  in  the 
city.  Bohemian,  Moravian,  and  Hungarian^s  j^^vs  appeared  in  the 
same  proportions  among  the  prosperous,  taxpaying  echelons  of  the 
Jewish  Community  (Table  2:9)  as  in  the  Community  at  large.  Just  as 
among  the  Jewish  grooms,  one  quarter  of  the  IKG  taxpayers  were 
from  Hungary,  and  21%  were  from  Bohemia  and  Moravia.  Jews  from 
these  areas  were  either  already  members  of  the  middle  classes  when 
they  arrived,  or  quickly  achieved  middle-class  Status  once  in  Vienna. 

The  Bohemians  were  the  riebest  Jewish  immigrants  to  Vienna.  In 
the  middle  of  the  nineteenth  Century,  they  were  represented  in  the 
IKG  tax  rolls  above  their  share  in  the  general  Jewish  population.  In 
1869  only  8.6%  of  the  Jewish  fathers  were  Bohemian,  but  almost 
14%  of  all  the  new  entrants  to  the  IKG  tax  rolls  between  1868  and 
1879  had  legal  residence  rights  in  Bohemia  (Table  2:10).  Moreover, 
except  for  those  with  Viennese  Heimatrecht,  Bohemians  were  more 
likely  than  any  other  Viennese  Jews  to  be  assessed  more  than  the 
20  Kronen  minimum  tax  for  the  IKG. 

The  Hungarians,  on  the  other  band,  were  the  least  prosperous  of 
the  early  immigrants.  In  all  likelihood,  the  Hungarian  migration 
contained  a  fair  number  of  poor  along  with  the  more  respectable 
middle  classes.  Although,  on  the  average,  Hungarians  were  repre- 
sented in  the  tax  rolls  in  proportion  to  their  numbers  in  the  Community 

Table  2:9.  Heimatland*  of  IKG  Taxpayers,  Composite,  1855-1914 


Land 


Number 


Percent  of  Total 


Vienna 

Other  Lower  Austria 

Bohemia 

Moravia 

Silesia 

Galicia 

Bukovina 

Other  Austria 

Hungary 

Other  Foreign** 


809 

7 

222 

211 

32 
158 

18 

15 
501 

95 


39.1 
0.3 

10.7 

10.2 
1.5 
7.6 
0.9 
0.7 

24.2 
4.6 


2,068 


100.0% 


*  The  IKG  only  recorded  Heimat  Community,  not  place  of  birth. 
**  "Other  Foreign"  includes  41  Germans,  13  Russians,  13  Rumanians,  10  from  other 
Balkan  countries,  and  18  others. 


36    The  Jews  of  Viema 


Table  2:10.  Heimatland  of  New  IKG  Members,  New  EtUrants  in  Each  Decade 


1855-67 
N  =  225 


1868-79 
N  =  394 


1880-89 
N=356 


1890-99 
N  =  491 


1900-1914 
N  =  582 


Vienna  &  N.O. 
Bohemia 
Moravia  & 

Silesia 
Galicia  & 

Bukovina 
Other  Austria 
Hungary 
Other  Foreign 


53.3% 
7.6 

10.7 

2.2 

0.4 

22.2 

3.6 

100.0% 


21.6% 
13.7 

12.4 

13.2 

1.0 
31.7 

6.3 

100.0% 


18.0% 
11.8 

16.3 

9.8 

0.3 

37.4 

6.5 

100.0% 


26.1% 
14.7 

16.3 

11.8 
1.2 

25.7 
4.3 

100.0% 


69.1% 
6.4 

5.2 

4.5 

0.5 

11.2 

2.9 

100.0% 


at  large,  in  every  decade  the  number  of  Hungarians  admitted  to  the 
tax  roll's  of  the  IKG  was  somewhat  lower  than  the  number  of 
Hungarians  in  the  general  Jewish  Community.  In  1880,  for  example, 
44.5%  of  the  Jewish  fathers  were  born  in  Hungary,  but  in  the  decade 
1880-89  only  37.4%  of  the  new  IKG  taxpayers  possessed  Hungarian 
Heimat  (Table  2:10  compared  to  2:5). 

In  the  decades  before  World  War  I,  the  percentage  of  Bohemian, 
Moravian,  and  especially  Hungarian  Jews  among  the  new  entrants 
to  the  IKG  tax  rolls  (Table  2:10)  declined  considerably.  Although, 
for  example,  31.7%  of  all  new  entrants  were  Hungarian  between 
1868  and  1879,  only  11.2%  of  the  new  applicants  in  the  final  years 
before  World  War  I  were  from  Hungary.  This  decline  merely  reflected 
the  ebb  in  migration  from  those  areas  of  the  Monarchy  during  the 
late  nineteenth  Century,  as  well  as  the  liberalization  of  Heimatrecht 
laws  in  1910  which  permitted  many  to  change  their  legal  residence 

to  Vienna. 

Galicians,  who  comprised  the  third  wave  of  Jewish  Immigration 
to  Vienna  at  the  very  end  of  the  Century,  were  by  far  the  poorest 
jews  in  Vienna.  On  the  average  between  1870  and  1910,  20%  of 
the  Jewish  Community  was  Galician,  but  only  8%  of  all  IKG  taxpayers 
during  this  period  came  from  Galicia.  There  were  two  distinct  groups 
of  Galician  Jews  in  Vienna.  A  small  group  of  Galician  Jews  moved 
to  Vienna  in  the  1860s  and  1870s,  probably  to  take  advantage  of 
Viennese  opportunities,  and  they  tended  to  be  prosperous,  repre- 
sented  in  the  IKG  tax  rolls  at  the  same  rate  as  they  were  in  the 
Community  at  large.  In  1869,  only  10.5%  of  all  Jewish  fathers  were 
born  in  Galicia,  but  as  many  as  13.2%  of  all  new  IKG  taxpayers 
between  1868  and  1879  had  legal  residence  in  Galicia  (Table  2:10). 
Moreover,  before  1880,  Galician  members  of  the  IKG  easily  changed 
their  Heimat  to  Vienna,  a  procedure  which  required  a  good  bit  of 


The  Creation  of  Viennese  Jewry    37 


money,  at  a  rate  higher  than  any  other  Viennese  Jews.  The  Galician 
Jewish  masses  who  arrived  in  the  city  at  the  end  of  the  Century,  on 
the  other  hand,  were  overwhelmingly  poor,  and  they  probably  mi- 
grated  because  economic  necessity  and  antisemitism  forced  the  issue. 
Thus,  virtually  none  of  them  were  sufficiently  prosperous  to  pay  IKG 
taxes.  In  1910,  at  a  time  of  massive  Galician  influx,  35%  of  all  Jewish 
fathers  were  born  in  Galicia,  but  only  4%  of  new  Gemeinde  taxpayers 
between  1900  and  1914  were  Galician.  Their  Status  as  recent  im- 
migrants  only  partially  explains  the  absence  of  Galicians  in  the  tax 
rolls.  In  general,  they  simply  lacked  the  economic  wherewithal  to 
pay  Gemeinde  taxes  in  proportion  to  their  share  in  the  Jewish  pop- 
ulation.  As  will  be  later  demonstrated,  these  Galicians  of  the  second 
and  larger  wave  of  Galician  Immigration  to  Vienna  were  less  urban 
and  probably  had  greater  attachments  to  traditional  Jewish  life  than 
did  earlier  migrants  from  that  province,  or  anywhere  eise. 

The  richest  Jews  in  Vienna  were  those  who  were  native  to  the 
city.  Jews  with  Viennese  Heimat  were  twice  as  likely  to  be  represented 
in  the  taxpaying  echelons  of  the  Jewish  Community  as  in  the  Com- 
munity at  large.  On  the  average  between  1870  and  1910  only  18% 
of  the  fathers  and  20%  of  the  grooms  were  Viennese-born,  but  almost 
40%  of  all  IKG  taxpayers  between  1855  and  1914  (Table  2:9)  pos- 
sessed legal  residence  rights  in  Vienna.  Moreover,  the  IKG  levied 
the  highest  tax  assessments  on  Jews  who  had  Viennese  Heimatrecht. 
Before  the  Jews  were  emancipated,  over  half  of  the  new  taxpaying 
members  of  the  IKG  had  legal  domiciliary  rights  in  Vienna,  but  once 
Jews  began  to  immigrate  in  large  numbers,  the  percentage  of  native 
Viennese  Jews  in  the  IKG  tax  rolls  plummeted  (Table  2:10).  At  the 
end  of  the  Century,  the  number  of  Jews  with  legal  residence  rights 
in  Vienna  grew  rapidly  so  that  almost  70%  of  the  new  taxpayers 
after  1900  possessed  Viennese  Heimat,  Part  of  this  increase  was 
caused  by  the  1910  liberalization  of  the  rules  for  changing  Heimat, 
This  increase  also  attests  to  the  growth  of  a  well-to-do  second 
generation  of  Jews  in  the  capital. 

Rieh  or  poor,  Jews  who  migrated  to  Vienna  were  familiär  with 
urban  life  when  they  arrived  in  the  city.  Unlike  gentile  immigrants, 
most  of  whom  were  born  in  peasant  villages  and  small  towns,®^  Jews 
who  moved  to  Vienna,  like  Austrian  and  Hungarian  Jews  in  general, 
had  lived  in  large  towns  and  cities,  and  a  considerable  number  of 
them  had  even  resided  in  the  other  Grossst'ddte  of  the  Dual  Monarchy. 
Only  about  5%  of  the  male  Jewish  immigrants  and  3%  of  the  female 
ones  were  born  in  villages  of  less  than  500  people,  and  16%  of  the 
immigrants  of  both  sexes  were  born  in  small  towns  with  500-1,999 
residents.  Over  a  third  came  from  larger  towns  of  2,000-9,999  people. 
IVtost  important,  almost  one-half  of  the  Jewish  men  and  women  who 


lw 


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&  <i  ;<(:r{ 


inhabitants  than  was  true  in  1869  (Table  2:12).  Conversely,  31%  of 
the  Hungarian  Jewish  fathers  in  1869  had  been  born  in  small  cities 
of  10,000-99,999  residents,  but  only  18%  of  the  Hungarian  Jewish 
fathers  in  1910  originated  in  such  cities.  The  number  migrating  from 
the  largest  cities  declined  after  1870  and  remained  constant  from 
1880  to  1910.  Jews  in  Hungarian  cities  may  have  increasingly  chosen 
Budapest  over  Vienna  when  they  wanted  to  improve  their  situations. 
Small-town  Jews  in  westem  Slovakia  or  westem  Hungary  probably 
continued  to  move  to  Vienna  because  it  was  so  close. 

Jews  who  migrated  to  Vienna  from  Galicia  were  also  not  typical 
Galician  Jews.  In  fact,  they  were  much  more  urban  than  Galician 
Jews  generally.  Whether  because  of  greater  poverty,  greater  mobility, 
or  easier  accessibility  to  the  means  of  transportation,  Jews  living  in 
the  cities  of  Galicia  were  much  more  likely  to  move  to  Vienna  than 
any  other  Jews  in  the  province.  Within  Galicia,  28%  of  all  Jews  lived 
in  cities  with  over  10,000  residents,  and  5.4%  lived  in  the  capital, 
Lemberg.8'  Among  Galician  Jewish  brides  and  grooms  in  Vienna, 
however,  over  60%  came  from  cities  with  more  than  10,000  residents 
and  14%  from  Lemberg  alone.  Moreover,  despite  rapid  urbanization 
in  Galicia  in  the  late  nineteenth  Century,  between  1870  and  1910 
the  percentage  of  Galician  Jewish  immigrants  to  Vienna  born  in  large 
cities  declined  markedly  (Table  2:13). 

This  decline  again  reveals  the  fact  that  indeed  two  waves  of  Jewish 
migrants  left  Galicia  for  Vienna.  The  first,  very  small  wave  in  the 
1860s  and  1870s  consisted  preponderantly  of  men  and  women  from 
the  cities  of  Galicia.  In  1869,  fully  82%  of  all  Galician  Jewish  fathers 
in  Vienna  (Table  2:13)  had  been  born  in  cities  with  more  than  10,000 
inhabitants,  including  24%  born  in  the  largest  cities  of  the  province. 
As  we  have  already  seen,  these  Jews  were  also  prosperous,  upwardly 
mobile  men  and  women  who  sought  to  take  advantage  of  Viennese 
opportunities.  On  the  other  band,  those  Jews  who  participated  in 
the  second,  mass  wave  of  Immigration  at  the  end  of  the  nineteenth 

Table  2:12.  Size  of  Hometown  of  Hungarian  Fathers,  1869-1910 


1869 
N=  121 

1880 
N  =  60 

1890* 
N  =  63 

1900 
N  =  75 

1910 
N  =  28 

Under  500 
500-1,999 
2,000-9,999 
10,000-99,999 
Over  100,000 

0.8% 
11.6 
42.1 
31.4 
14.0 

3.3% 

6.7 
48.3 
36.7 

5.0 

7.9% 
52.4 
33.3 

6.3 

5.3% 
21.3 
40.0 
24.0 

9.3 

3.6% 
25.0 
46.4 
17.9 

7.1 

100.0% 

100.0% 

100.0% 

100.0% 

100.0% 

• 

♦  1890  figures 

based  on  Heimatland,  not  place 

of  birth. 

t 

. 

i/k 

.  ^li   .^ 

.  K  niiebi   j , 

-y    41 

Table  2:13.  Size 

of  Hometown 

of  Galician  Jewish  Fathers,  1869- 

1910 

1869 

N  =  33 

1880 
N=18 

1890* 
N  =  28 

1900 
N  =  49 

1910 
N  =  57 

Under  500 
500-1,999 
2,000-9,999 
10,000-99,999 
Over  100,000 

18.2% 

57.6 

24.2 

5.6% 
11.1 
44.4 
38.9 

28.6% 

39.3 

32.1 

2.0% 

6.1 
30.6 
34.7 
26.5 

3.5% 
14.0 
36.8 
29.8 
15.8 

100.0% 

100.0% 

100.0% 

100.0% 

100.0% 

*  1890  figures  based  on  Heimatland,  not  place  of  birth. 

Century  were  less  likely  to  have  been  born  in  the  cities,  more  likely 
to  come  from  the  smaller  towns  of  Galicia.  Thus,  in  contrast  to  1869, 
only  46%  of  the  Galician  Jewish  fathers  in  1910  came  from  cities  of 
more  than  10,000  residents.  In  this  forty-one-year  period,  the  number 
of  Galician  Jewish  fathers  born  in  towns  with  2,000-9,999  inhabitants 
doubled  from  18%  to  37%,  and  the  number  born  in  even  smaller 
towns  rose  as  well.  The  most  striking  decline  was  in  the  number  of 
Galician  Jews  in  Vienna  born  in  Lemberg.  Almost  30%  of  the  Galician 
Jewish  grooms  in  1880  were  Lemberger,  but  only  6%  were  born  in 
the  Galician  capital  in  1910.  Moreover,  although  small-town  life  does 
not  necessitate  poverty,  as  we  have  seen,  the  Jews  in  the  second 
wave  of  migration  were  overwhelmingly  poor. 

Whatever  the  size  of  their  hometowns,  Jewish  immigrants  to  Vi- 
enna, especially  those  from  Galicia  and  Hungary,  came  from  com- 
munities  which  contained  substantial  Jewish  populations  (Table  2:14). 
About  two-fifths  of  Jewish  immigrants  to  Vienna  were  born  in  small 
Jewish  communities,  but  a  large  percentage  were  born  in  large  com- 
munities  as  well.  With  the  exception  of  Jews  from  Prague,  Jews  who 
immigrated  to  Vienna  from  Bohemia  and  Moravia,  like  Bohemian 
and  Moravian  Jews  generally,^^  hailed  from  small  Jewish  communities. 
Fully  80%  of  Bohemian  Jewish  grooms  and  90%  of  Moravian  grooms 
came  from  communities  of  less  than  2,000  Jews.  Hungarian  Jews  in 
Vienna,  on  the  other  band,  were  considerably  more  likely  than 
Bohemian  or  Moravian  Jewish  immigrants  to  have  been  born  in 
medium  or  large  Jewish  communities,  including  Budapest  itself. 

Galician  Jews  in  Vienna,  like  Galician  Jews  generally,  came  from 
very  large  Jewish  communities. '^  In  contrast  to  the  overwhelming 
majority  of  Bohemian,  Moravian,  and  even  Hungarian  Jews  born  in 
communities  of  less  than  2,000  Jews,  only  24%  of  the  Galician  grooms 
were  born  in  such  small  Jewish  communities.  Conversely,  almost 
half  of  the  Galician-born  Jewish  brides  and  grooms  in  Vienna  came 
from  very  large  Jewish  communities  in  which  between  10,000  and 


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The  Creation  of  Viennese  Jewry    43 


l^ 


100,000  Jews  resided.  As  indicated  above,  Jews  in  these  towns  were 
a  substantial  minority,  and  sometimes  even  a  majority  of  the  total 
population. 

All  of  the  differences  between  Czech,  Hungarian,  and  Galician 
Jews  in  Vienna  may  partially  explain  why  there  were,  in  effect,  two 
Jewish  communities  in  the  city,  one  composed  of  the  native-born, 
Bohemians,  Moravians,  and  Hungarians,  and  the  other  composed  of 
Galicians.  It  was  not  just  their  recent  Status  as  immigrants  that 
differentiated  the  Galicians  from  the  other  Jews  in  Vienna.  Galician 
Jews  also  had  a  sense  of  themselves  as  a  distinct  group,  an  Eastern 
European  outpost  in  a  sea  of  Central  European  Jews,  and  they  strove 
to  maintain  that  distinctiveness  in  Vienna. 

To  be  sure,  like  Jews  in  Germany,  the  already  Germanized  Jews 
from  Bohemia,  Moravia,  and  Hungary  did  regard  Galician  Jews  with 
a  measure  of  contempt  and  separated  themselves  from  these  Polish 
Jews.92  George  Cläre  remembered  the  distaste  he  feit  for  his  maternal 
grandmother  from  Lemberg: 

I  was  already  second-generation  Viennese,  and  Viennese-born  Jews  feit 
re'sentment  towards  the  less  assimilated  Jews  from  the  Hast.  We  were, 
or  rather  thought  we  were,  quite  diffcrent  from  that  bearded,  caftaned 
lot.  We  were  not  just  Austrian,  but  German-Austrian.  Little  wonder  that 
I  resented  the  Yiddish  sing-song  intonation  with  which  Adele  spoke 
German,  a  "yoich"  sigh  at  the  Start  and  end  of  almost  every  sentence.'^ 

In  fact,  all  of  Clare's  grandparents  were  from  Galicia  or  Bukovina, 
but  they  had  succeeded  in  Germanizing  and  thus  shared  the  general 
contempt  for  Eastern  Jews.  Cläre  admitted  that  he  long  resented  the 
fact  that  his  own  mother  was  born  in  Galicia.'* 

For  their  part,  Galician  Jews  had  a  strong  sense  of  their  own 
identity  and  the  worth  of  Polish  Jewish  culture.  Resenting  the  "Ger- 
man" Jewish  antipathy  to  them,  Polish  Jews  consciously  created  their 
own  culture  in  Vienna. '^  i^  ^  ^^\\  f^^  ^y^^  creation  of  an  Organization 
of  Polish  Jews  in  Vienna,  "L"  declared: 

Indeed,  the  "great"  Viennese  Jews  whose  fathers  migrated  from  Bohemia, 
Moravia,  or  Hungary  consider  themselves  better  than  the  "Eastern  Jews," 
the  Poles  or  Russians  .  .  . 

He  urged  that  Galician  Jews  band  together,  "to  fulfill  important  social 
duties  to  their  Eastern  brothers."  '^  Galician  Jews  also  sought  to 
preserve  Galician  Jewish  religious  culture  in  "German"  Vienna  through 
the  establishment  of  synagogues  in  which  Services  would  be  con- 
ducted  according  to  Polish  customs.'^ 


-ii 


.t    iL\.L':>    ^ 


r   1 1  >>>'»•* 


This  sense  of  separateness  was  translated  into  marriage  preferences. 
Native-born,  Bohemian,  Moravian,  and  Hungarian  Jews  married  each 
other  in  proportion  to  their  share  in  the  population  and  avoided  the 
Galicians.  Conversely,  Galician  Jews  almost  exclusively  chose  each 
other  as  marriage  partners.  Most  Viennese  Jewish  marriages  (60.6%) 
involved  men  and  women  born  in  different  provinces  of  the  mon- 
archy,»8  but  only  5.8%  of  the  Bohemian  grooms,  2.1%  of  the  Moravian 
grooms,  and  5.5%  of  the  Hungarian  grooms  chose  Galician  brides. 
Bohemians  shied  away  from  Hungarians  to  some  extent  as  well. 
Although  12.5%  of  the  native-born  brides  married  Galician  men, 
almost  all  Jewish  brides  from  Moravia,  Bohemia,  and  Hungary  shunned 

men  from  Galicia.  . 

Galician  Jews,  however,  overwhelmingly  married  other  Gahcian 
Jews.  The  native-born  also  had  a  high  endogamy  rate,  but  the 
Galicians'  endogamy  rate  was  twice  as  high  as  that  of  any  other 
Viennese  Jews  (Table  2:15).  (Male/female  differences  relate  to  the 
different  proportion  of  each  national  group  within  the  male  and 
female  populations.)  One-quarter  of  each  national  group,  on  the 
average,  married  spouses  from  their  province  of  origin,  but  half  of 
the  Galician  grooms  and  three-quarters  of  the  Galician  brides  married 
other  Galicians.  Due  to  increased  migration,  Galician  endogamy  in- 
creased  between  1870  and  1910;  51.7%  of  Galician  brides  married 
Galician  men  in  1880,  and  79.6%  did  so  in  1910. 

As  will  be  shown  later,  Galician  Jews  in  Vienna  also  concentrated 
more  densely  in  the  Jewish  neighborhoods  of  the  city.  Moreover, 
Viennese  Jews  from  Galicia  participated  more  actively  than  other 
Viennese  Jews  in  movements  like  Zionism  and  diaspora  Jewish  na- 
tionalism  which  sought  to  revive  Jewish  national  feelings  in  late 
Habsburg  Vienna.  They  provided  the  majority  of  the  rank  and  file 
as  well  as  the  leadership  cadres  of  these  two  movements.  Galician 
Jews,  Coming  from  regions  of  greater  Jewish  density  and  intensity 
of  Jewish  life  than  other  Viennese  Jews,  may  have  been  more  devoted 
than  Bohemian,  Moravian,  Hungarian,  or  native  Viennese  Jews  to 
asserting  their  Jewish  identity  and  living  a  more  consciously  Jewish 
life.  They  were  probably  also  more  religious. 

Table  2.15.  PerceiUage  of  Grooms  and  Brides  From  Each  Land  Marrying  Partners  From 

Thal  Land 


%  Grooms 


%  Brides 


Vienna 

Bohemia 

Moravia/Silesia 

Gaiicia/Bukovina 

Hungary 


62.4 
15.4 
27.7 
49.7 
34.2 


33.6 
25.8 
34.2 
72.1 
47.9 


i 


■  Urbanization  and  assimilation  were  interrelated  phenomena,  but 
the  fact  that  Jewish  immigrants  came  to  Vienna  from  large  towns 
and  cities  did  not  mean  that  they  were  all  assimilated  or  seekmg 
Integration  into  gentile  culture.  The  Jews  of  Bohemia  and  Moravia 
were  less  urban  than  other  Austrian  Jews  but  assimilated  into  Eu- 
ropean culture  earlier  than  Eastern  European  Jews,»»  and  were  the 
majority  of  the  most  assimilated  Jews  in  Vienna.  Galician  Jews,  more 
heavily  concentrated  in  cities  than  Jews  of  any  other  province,  were 
the  most  religious  and  the  least  assimilated,  and  would  provide  the 
demographic  foundation  for  a  good  deal  of  assertive  Jewish  separatism 

in  Vienna.  ... 

The  fact  that  Jewish  immigrants  to  Vienna  were  so  urban  did, 
however,  prepare  them  for  the  necessary  adjustments  they  had  to 
make  to  life  in  the  capital.  Arriving  in  Vienna  with  urban  experience 
and  urban  occupations,  the  Jews  were  in  a  better  position  than  most 
immigrants  to  make  use  of  the  expanded  opportunities  they  en- 
countered.  Many  Jewish  immigrants  were  extremely  poor,  but  their 
previous  urban  experience  meant  that  they  engaged  in  commercial 
or  artisanal  occupations.  Not  having  to  work  for  very  low  wages  at 
heavy  labor,  as  did  immigrants  of  peasant  stock,  they  were  m  a 
better  position  to  improve  their  economic  Status.  Largely  literate, 
they  were  able  to  move  into  new  urban  occupations. 


Do       i  nC  i%  ii:>  t*;    . 


1 1  ■(■<•« 


Table  3:5.  Occupations  of  Jewish  Grooms  from  Vienna,  Bohemia,  Moravia,  Galicia,  and 

Hungary,  1870-1910 


Viennese* 
Composite       1870  1880 

N  =  184         N-3         N  =  8 


1890  1900  1910 

N  =  20       N  =  58       N  =  95 


Civil  Servants 

4.3% 

^M«p 

10.0% 

5.2% 

3.2% 

Professionals 

9.4 

66.7% 

25.0% 

5.0 

5.2 

9.5 

Industrialists 

3.8 

— 

5.2 

4.2 

Merchants 

31.5 

62.5 

50.0 

27.6 

28.4 

Business  Employees 

38.0 

— 

12.5 

30.0 

37.9 

43.2 

Artisans 

8.7 

33.3 

— 

5.0 

12.1 

7.4  ' 

Workers 

4.3 

— 

6.9 

4.2 

100.0% 

100.0% 

100.0% 

100.0% 

100.0% 

100.0% 

Bohemians 

• 

Composite 

1870 

1880 

1890 

1900 

1910 

N  =  98 

N=  13 

N  =  16 

N  =  19 

N  =  25 

N-25 

Civil  Servants 

2.0% 

7.7% 

__ 

5.3% 

mmm. 

--. 

Professionals 

11.2 

23.1 

12.5% 

5.3 

8.0% 

12.0% 

Industrialists 

7.1 

7.7 

6.3 

10.5 

8.0 

4.0 

Merchants 

31.6 

30.8 

31.3 

26.3 

32.0 

36.0 

Business  Employees 

28.6 

— 

18.8 

31.6 

36.0 

40.0 

Artisans 

13.3 

23.1 

25.0 

15.8 

8.0 

4.0 

Workers 

6.1 

7.7 

6.3 

5.3 

8.0 

4.0 

100.0% 

100.0% 

100.0% 

100.0% 

100.0% 

100.0% 

Moravians  and  Silesians 

Composite 

1870 

1880 

1890 

1900 

1910 

N  =  130 

N-  14 

N=  17 

N  =  27 

N  =  37 

N  =  35 

Civil  Servants 

3.1% 

7.7% 

.i__ 

._ 

8.6% 

Professionals 

14.6 

21.4 

5.9% 

14.8% 

16.2% 

14.3 

Industrialists 

3.8 

— 

7.4 

2.7 

5.7 

Merchants 

42.3 

42.9 

70.6 

51.9 

37.8 

25.7 

Business  Employees 

23.8 

14.3 

5.9 

11.1 

35.1 

34.3 

Artisans 

10.0 

14.3 

11.8 

14.8 

8.1 

5.7 

Workers 

2.3 

— 

5.9 

— 

— 

5.7 

100.0% 

100.0% 

100.0% 

100.0% 

100.0% 

100.0% 

Galicians  and 

Bukovinians 

Composite 

1870 

1880 

1890 

1900 

1910 

N  =  160 

N  =  3 

N  =  14 

N  =  32 

N  =  51 

N  =  60 

Civil  Servants 

1.9% 

„.^ 

_ 

2.0% 

3.3% 

Professionals 

11.3 

— 

7.1% 

12.5% 

15.7 

8.3 

Industrialists 

— 

— 

— 

Merchants 

41.3 

66.7% 

21.4 

50.0 

35.3 

45.0 

Business  Employees 

26.3 

— 

42.9 

21.9 

19.6 

31.7 

Artisans 

15.0 

33.3 

28.6 

9.4 

21.6 

8.3 

Workers 

4.4 

— 

— 

6.3 

5.9 

3.3 

100.0% 

100.0% 

100.0% 

100.0% 

100.0% 

100.0% 

*  Includes  a  iew  Lower  Austrians 


tnnn   i  niilti  ti>  Clerk    :>/ 


Table  3:5.  Occupations  of  Jewish  Grooms  from  Vienna,  Bohemia,  Moravia,  Galicia,  and 

Hungary,  1870-1910— Continued 


Hungarians 

Composite 

1870 

1880 

1890 

1900 

1910 

N  =  186 

N  =  33 

N  =  48 

N  =  46 

N  =  27 

N  =  32 

Civil  Servants 

1.1% 

^^_ 

.^__ 

3.7% 

3.1% 

Professionals 

7.0 

— 

2.1% 

8.7% 

18.5 

9.4 

Industrialists 

4.3 

9.1% 

2.1 

4.3 

3.7 

3.1 

Merchants 

55.4 

69.7 

68.8 

50.0 

40.7 

40.6 

Business  Employees 

16.1 

— 

10.4 

23.9 

22.2 

25.0 

Artisans 

12.9 

21.2 

14.6 

8.7 

11.1 

9.4 

Workers 

3.2 

— 

2.1 

4.3 

— 

9.4 

100.0% 

100.0% 

100.0% 

100.0% 

100.0% 

100.0% 

dustrialists  or  artisans.  To  be  sure,  their  participation  in  industry 
paied  by  comparison  with  that  of  all  Czechs  (Jews  and  non-]ews)  in 
Vienna,  74%  of  whom  pursued  industrial  occupations  in  1910,  mostly 
as  workers  in  the  clothing  industry. ^^  Following  emancipation,  Bo- 
hemian  Jews  had  striven  to  become  craftsmen,  and  in  1870  and  1880 
about  one-quarter  of  the  Bohemian  Jewish  grooms  had  achieved  that 
goal.  By  1910,  however,  the  proportion  of  craftsmen  among  Bohemian 
Jews  had  declined  to  4%.  Many  Bohemian  Jews  had  put  on  Shirts 
and  ties  to  join  the  office  staffs  of  the  city.  Bohemian  Jewish  "in- 
dustrialists," many  of  whom  may  have  been  simply  the  more  pros- 
perous  artisans,  did  likewise. 

Changes  in  occupational  structure  among  Galician  Jews  in  Vienna 
between  1880 — the^l870  sample  was  too  small  for  Statistical  anal- 
ysis — and  1910  reflect,  on  the  other  hand,  two  concomitant  factors: 
^^  the  greater  occupational  traditionalism  of  the  second  wave  of  Galician 
Jewish  migrants,  and  the  same  modernizing  trends  common  among 
all  Jewish  groups  at  this  time.  The  Galician  grooms  sampled  from 
1880  came  with  the  first,  less  traditional,  wave  of  Galician  migration 
to  Vienna.  Only  one-fifth  of  the  1880  grooms  were  merchants,  while 
two-fifths  registered  as  business  employees  and  a  substantial  number 
as  artisans.  By  1890,  however,  the  second  wave  of  migration  had 
set  in,  creating  a  reversal  of  the  1880  distribution.  In  the  next  two 
decades,  most  Galician  Jewish  grooms  were  recorded  as  merchants, 
while  few  held  clerical,  sales,  or  managerial  positions.  Only  in  1910 
did  the  number  of  Galician  Jewish  business  employees  increase  while 
the  number  of  Galician  Jews  participating  in  trade  decreased  to  some 
extent.  Like  Bohemians,  many  Galicians  abandoned  artisanal  occu- 
pations in  Order  to  work  in  offices. 


58    The  Jews  of  Vienna 


Front  Trader  to  Clerk    59 


Richer  Jews  who  had  Heimatrecht  in  Vienna,  Bohemia,  Moravia, 
Hungary,  or  Galicia  also  increasingly  found  employment  as  clerks, 
salesmen,  and  managers,  although  presumably  they  did  so  at  a  higher 
and  more  remunerative  level  than  those  who  could  not  afford  to 
pay  IKG  taxes.  For  example,  in  1868-79,  only  6.9%  of  new  entrants 
into  the  Gemeinde  tax  rolls  who  had  legal  residence  rights  in  Vienna 
were  Business  employees,  but  27.5%  of  such  new  entrants  in  the 
1900s  were  thus  employed  (Table  3:6).  Similarly,  more  new  IKG 
taxpayers  from  Moravia,  Bohemia,  Hungary,  and  to  a  lesser  extent 
Galicia,  pursued  clerical  or  managerial  careers  in  the  1900s  than  in 
the  preceding  decades.  Unlike  Jewish  grooms  from  Bohemia  who 
abandoned  artisanship  in  order  to  become  business  employees,  Bo- 
hemian  IKG  taxpayers  behaved  like  all  other  Viennese  Jews  and  left 
careers  in  trade  in  order  to  become  clerks,  salesmen,  or  managers. 
Native-born  Viennese  IKG  taxpayers  were  the  most  likely  Jews  in 
Vienna  to  become  civil  servants  in  the  late  nineteenth  Century;  by 
the  1900s,  6.4%  of  all  new  entrants  to  the  IKG  tax  rolls  with  Viennese 
Heimat  worked  for  the  imperial  or  municipal  government.  Finally, 
many  IKG  tax  payers  with  Galician  Heimatrecht  moved  into  such 
professions  as  medicine,  law,  engineering,  and  writing.  In  the  first 
decade  after  emancipation  only  8.3%  of  all  new  IKG  taxpayers  from 
Galicia  practiced  a  profession,  but  in  the  1900s,  24%  did  so. 

The  pattern  of  occupational  transformation  among  Viennese  Jews 
differed  radically  from  the  legendary  social  mobility  of  the  Jews  in 
New  York.  The  Eastern  European  Jews  who  emigrated  to  New  York 
were  skilled  laborers  when  they  arrived  in  the  United  States.  Begin- 
ning  as  poor  tailors  in  the  burgeoning  garment  industry,  many  became 
wealthy  clothing  manufacturers  with  lightning-like  rapidity,  and  their 
children  entered  the  professions.^^  The  sons  of  the  merchants  who 
immigrated  to  Vienna,  on  the  other  hand,  turned  to  clerical  and 
managerial  careers,  but  both  groups  of  Jews  experienced  profound 
upward  social  mobility,  that  is,  a  rise  in  social  Status,  wealth,  and 
prestige.  Working  as  clerks  or  salesmen  meant  guaranteed  income 
and  a  secure  position  for  the  sons  of  poor  traders  living  at  the  brink 
of  poverty.  Vienna  made  it  possible  for  Jews  to  enjoy  careers  which 
gave  them  more  security,  wealth,  prestige,  and  Status  than  they  had 
enjoyed  before. 

Because  of  the  concentration  of  Jews  in  trade  and  clerical  careers, 
it  is  virtually  impossible  to  measure  Jewish  social  mobility  by  the 
scales  employed  by  most  historians.  Such  scales  place  merchants  in 
the  very  highest  rank,  along  with  professional,  civil  servants,  and 
upper-level  managers.  These  scales  measure  the  movement  of  men 
and  women  from  the  blue-collar  laboring  classes  into  two  white- 
collar  ranks,  the  highest  rank  of  merchants  and  professionals,  and 


Table  3:6.  Occupations  of  IKG  Taxpayers  from  Vienna,  Bohemia,  Moravia,  Galicia,  and 

Hungary,  1855-1914 


B|            Vienna  and 

Entered  IKG  In: 

H|                Lower  Austria 

Overall 

1855-67 

1868-79 

1880s 

1890s 

1900s 

B: 

N  =  683 

N  =  91 

N  =  72 

N  =  55 

N  =  105 

N  =  345 

H             Civil  Servants 

4.7% 

1.1% 

2.8% 

1.8% 

5.7% 

6.4% 

Ki            Professionals 

16.0 

11.0 

12.5 

20.0 

21.0 

16.2 

»•           Industrialists 

5.7 

11.0 

6.9 

12.7 

6.7 

2.3 

R.              Merchants 

42.8 

63.7 

59.7 

34.5 

30.5 

37.4 

B"             Business  Employees 

18.6 

1.1 

6.9 

14.5 

17.1 

27.5 

m^            Arlisans 

12.3 

12.1 

11.1 

16.4 

19.0 

10.1 

V            Workers 

— 

— 

100.0% 

100.0% 

100.0% 

100.0% 

100.0% 

100.0% 

m 

Entered  IKG  In: 

■[^            Bohemians 

Overall 

1855-67 

1868-79 

1880s 

1890s 

1900s 

N=186 

N  =  14 

N  =  41 

N  =  39 

N  =  62 

N  =  30 

B             Civil  Servants 

2.7% 

2.4% 

_ 

1.6% 

10.0% 

K             Professionals 

15.1 

42.9% 

24.4 

10.3% 

9.7 

6.7 

H             Industrialists 

8.6 

7.1 

7.3 

12.8 

9.7 

3.3 

K             Merchants 

41.9 

42.9 

51.2 

41.0 

45.2 

23.3 

■              Business  Employees 

19.9 

— 

7.3 

15.4 

25.8 

40.0 

■/             Artisans 

11.8 

7.1 

7.3 

20.5 

8.1 

16.7 

B              Workers 

— 

— 

— 

— 

1 

100.0% 

100.0% 

100.0% 

100.0% 

100.0% 

100.0% 

■              Moravians  and 

Entered  IKG  In: 

■                  Silesians 

Overall 

1855-67 

1868-79 

1880s 

1890s 

1900s 

1 

N-220 

N  =  20 

N  =  43 

N-53 

N  =  75 

N=29 

■              Civil  Servants 

1.8% 

^^_ 

2.3% 

3.8% 

3.4% 

M              Professionals 

6.8 

16.3 

3.8 

6.7% 

3.4 

B               Industrialists 

6.4 

5.0% 

9.4 

8.0 

6.9 

B               Merchants 

53.6 

70.0 

58.1 

52.8 

50.7 

44.8 

B              Business  Employees 

18.6 

5.0 

9.3 

17.0 

25.3 

27.6 

B              Artisans 

12.7 

20.0 

14.0 

13.2 

9.3 

13.8 

B              Workers 

— 

— 

1 

100.0% 

100.0% 

100.0% 

100.0% 

100.0% 

100.0% 

B;            Galicians  and 

Entered  IKG  In: 

K                 Bukovinians 

Overall 

1855-67 

1868-79 

1880s 

1890s 

1900s 

N=  161 

N  =  4 

N  =  48 

N  =  31 

N  =  53 

N  =  25 

H             Civil  Servants 

2.5% 

__ 

4.2% 

3.2% 

1.9% 

K            Professionals 

13.7 

8.3 

9.7 

17.0 

24.0% 

R             Industrialists 

3.1 

25.0% 

2.1 

6.5 

1.9 

B             Merchants 

50.9 

75.0 

64.6 

48.4 

39.6 

48.0 

H             business  Employees 

14.3 

— 

4.2 

9.7 

26.4 

16.0 

B             Artisans 

15.5 

— 

16.7 

22.6 

13.2 

12.0 

K             Workers 

— 

— 

— 

^^■v 

100.0% 

100.0% 

100.0% 

100.0% 

100.0% 

100.0% 

96    The  Jews  of  Vienna 


Most  Viennese  Czechs  lived  in  Favoriten  (X),  but  almost  no  Jews 
from  Bohemia  or  Moravia  (or  anywhere  eise)  lived  in  that  district 
or  the  other  working-class  districts  in  which  Czechs  concentrated 
(Table  4:11).  Much  of  this  difference  was  caused  by  the  divergent 
economic  Status  of  the  two  groups.  The  majority  of  the  Czechs  in 
Vienna  worked  in  factories,  while  most  Bohemian  and  Moravian  Jews 
practiced  middle-class  occupations.  Consequently,  the  two  groups 
would  be  unlikely  to  live  together.  Even  the  middle  classes  of  both 
groups  avoided  each  other.  Middle-class  Czechs  lived  in  Districts  III, 
V,  and  to  a  lesser  extent  in  IX,  but  Bohemian  and  Moravian  Jews 
concentrated,  as  did  most  Jews,  in  Districts  I,  II,  VI,  and  IX.  Czech 
gentiles  and  Bohemian  and  Moravian  Jews  avoided  each  other,  not 
only  for  class  reasons,  but  for  cultural  ones  as  well.  Bohemian  and 
Moravian  Jews  who  spoke  German  and  identified  with  German 
culture*7  would  not  seek  out  common  residence  with  gentiles  whose 
everyday  language  was  Bohemian  or  Moravian.  The  most  important 
cause  of  the  residential  Separation,  however,  was  the  desire  of  each 
group  to  establish  its  own  identity  in  the  city. 

Taking  Jewishness  as  the  primary  criterion  in  neighborhood  se- 
lection,  most  Viennese  Jews  did  not  make  distinctions  based  on 
geographical  origins  as  long  as  their  neighbors  were  other  Jews.  Only 
for  Galician  Jews  was  provincial  origin  an  important  issue  when  they 
chose  housing.  The  division  of  the  Jewish  Community  into  two  groups, 
one  composed  of  natives,  Bohemians,  Moravians,  and  Hungarians,' 
and  the  other  composed  of  Galicians  did  make  itself  feit  to  some 
limited  extent  in  Viennese  Jewish  residential  pattems.  These  differ- 
ences,  however,  were  not  as  great  as  those  between  neighborhoods 
of  German  Jews  and  Eastern  European  Jews  in  New  York,  Paris,  or 
London  in  the  nineteenth  Century.** 

As  a  consequence  of  the  differences  between  the  two  groups  of 
Jews,  the  average  Index  of  Dissimilarity  for  Jews  born  in  Vienna, 
Bohemia,  Moravia,  and  Hungary  was  low,  only  25%,  indicating  the 
high  level  of  internal  Integration  among  these  Jews.  The  Index  of 
Dissimilarity  for  Bohemian  and  Galician  Jews,  on  the  other  band, 
was  39%,  reflecting  the  different  residential  pattems  of  these  two 
Jewish  groups.  Moreover,  while  all  Jews  in  Vienna  lived  in  large 
numbers  in  the  Leopoldstadt,  the  Inner  City,  and  the  Aisergrund, 
the  Galicians  concentrated  much  more  heavily  in  the  Leopoldstadt 
and  the  Brigittenau  than  any  other  Jews  in  the  city  (Table  4:12).  An 
average  of  57%  of  all  Galician  grooms  between  1870  and  1910  lived 
in  these  two  districts,  compared  with  two-fifths  of  Hungarian  and 
Moravian  Jews  and  only  30%  of  Bohemian  Jews.  Over  half  of  the 
Jewish  grooms  from  the  Brigittenau  (XX)  were  born  in  Galicia.  On 
the  other  band,  Galician  Jews  were  less  likely  than  other  Jews  to 


The  Jewish  Neighborhoods  of  Vienna    97 


s ll  e  la  il  "h      V  '^^"^hilf-Neubau  (VI-VII),  but  just  as  likely 
as  the  native-born,  Moravians,  and  Hungarians  to  live  in  the  Alser- 
grund,  which,  ,t  will  be  recalled,  contained  pockets  of  poor  Jew 
Because  a  large  number  of  Galicians  were  poor,  more  of  them  aTso 

rnatTxvlxVlo""'  ^"  ""'''''''  ''-'''  ^^'y  ^"  ^^^^  ^^ 
Galician  Jews  concentrated  in  the  Leopoldstadt  not  simply  because 
of  heir  recent  Immigrant  Status  or  their  poverty.  Rather  they  perce  ved 
host, hty  among  the  more  Germanized  Jews'toward  "Polish'Wews 
ad    hus  probably  wanted  to  live  together  as  a  source  of  comfor 
and  to  assert  their  own  self-worth.  Even  richer  Galician  Jews  in 
V  enna,  those  who  paid  taxes  to  the  IKG,  were  more  likely  than  anv 
other  group  of  middle-class  Jews  to  live  in  the  den  elv  lewish 
Loopoldstadt   In  fact,  39.5o/o  of  all  Gemeinde  members  S,r  n 
Gahcia  hved  in  the  second  district,  compared  with  250/0  of  Gemeinde 
ta  payers  in  general.  Even  when  Galicians  were  more  affluenTmey 
st  11    ended  to  remain  in  the  old  Jewish  neighborhood,  where  etLnic 
attachments  were  strong.  Although  they  were  less  concentrated  in 
the  second  district  in  1910  than  they  had  been  in  the  1870    (34  6% 
compared  with  55.6%),  Galicians  remained  much  more  ükelv  than 
any  other  middle-class  Jews  in  Vienna  to  live  in  the  Jew  sh  gh  tto 

Zn  y   ^i-  T  ^'^'-  ^^'  Bohemians  were  much  less  likel^ 

hnn  most  Viennese  Jews  to  live  in  the  Leopoldstadt  (about  onT 

fourth  compared  with  one-third)  and  the  outer  district  ,  but  more 

likely    o   live  m    the  Inner  City,   Districts  III-V,   X,   VI-VIII    and 

eTanrfnt:;a?ed '""^^""'^-  ""''-  ^^^^  '^^  ^'^^  --- 
Table  4:12.  Rcsidctial  Distribution  "/ /'^«JGrooms /rom  Each  Area  of  Origin,  Composite, 


Vienna* 
N  =  186 


I 
II 

III-V,  X 

VI-VIII 

IX 

XI-XIX 

XX 

XXI 


10.2% 
31.7 

8.6 
15.1 
10.8 
19.4 

3.2 

1.1 


ohemia 

Moravia** 

Galicia» 

4  =  83 

N  =  100 

N  =  169 

10.8% 

12.0% 

5.9% 

28.9 

41.0 

47.3 

13.3 

12.0 

8.9 

16.7 

12.0 

5.3 

20.5 

10.0 

10.1 

7.2 

10.0 

13.0 

1.2 

3.0 

9.5 

1.2 

___ 

Hungary 
N  =«  155 


Other  Foreign 
N  =  28 


100.0%         100.0%         100.0%  100.0% 


16.1% 
42.6 
12.9 
13.5 

9.7 

3.9 

1.3 


100.0% 


14.3% 

39.3 

10.7 

14.3 

14.3 

3.6 

3.6 


100.0% 


•  Includes  a  few  born  in  Lower  Austria 
*•  Includes  Silesians. 

*  Includes  those  born  in  Bukovina. 


130    The  Je  WS  of  Vienna 


termarry,»  presumably  some  Jews  married  non-Jews  because  they 
wanted  to  facilitate  advancement  to  the  upper  strata  of  society  or 
to  consolidate  gains  already  achieved,  or  because  newfound  Status 
provided  greater  opportunities  for  intermarriage.  Others  intermarried 
because  they  were  indifferent  to  Judaism  or  consciously  desired 
assimilation.  Most,  however,  probably  married  non-Jews  because  they 
happened  to  meet  and  wanted  to  marry  a  particular  gentile  man  or 
woman.  As  one  sociologist  has  noted  about  American  Jewry,  "The 
Jew  who  intermarries,  then,  generally  does  so  because  he  wis'hes  to 
marty  rather  than  because  he  wishes  to  intermarry."  ><> 

Analysis  of  records  kept  by  the  IKG  of  marriages  between  Jews 
and  people  who  declared  themselves  konfessionslos^^  reveals  that  in 
Vienna  two  types  of  Jews  intermarried:  one  group  belonged  to  the 
nsing  middle  class,  and  the  other  belonged  to  the  lowest  dasses.  As 
in  the  case  of  conversion  (to  be  discussed  below),  these  groups  split 
along  gender  lines.  Men  who  chose  to  intermarry  generally  belonged 
to  the  middle  class,  while  intermarrying  women  tended  to  come 
either  from  the  lower-middle  class  or  from  the  working  classes.  The 
middle-class  men  and  women  may  well  have  expected  intermarriage 
to  improve  their  social  Standing,  but  when  lower-dass  Jewish  women 
intermarried,  they  did  so  not  because  they  wanted  to  rise  in  social 
Status  but  because  they  met  and  desired  to  marry  fellow  workers. 

Jewish  men  who  intermarried  pursued  careers  as  business  em- 
ployees  or  merchants  (Table  6:2).  Almost  half  of  the  Jewish  men 
who  married  konfessionslos  women  identified  themselves  as  business 
employees.  The  other  upwardly  mobile  group,  however,  is  most 
conspicuous  in  its  absence;  none  of  the  Jewish  grooms  who  married 
konfessionslos  brides  in  this  admittedly  small  sample  (N  =  30)  were 
Professionals.  Undoubtedly,  professional  did  intermarry,  but  doctors, 
lawyers,  and  writers  who  could  most  expect  career  advantages  from 
family  alliances  with  gentiles,  would  want  to  maximize  those  ad- 
vantages by  Converting  from  Judaism  before  they  married  non-Jewish 
women.  On  the  other  band,  some  business  employees  who  inter- 
married remained  nominally  Jewish.  Jewish  artisans  and  workers 
rarely  married  gentile  women.  Jewish  men  in  mixed  marriages  do 
not  seem  to  have  married  for  money.  Few  of  the  konfessionslos  brides 
hved  in  the  wealthy  neighborhoods  in  the  Inner  City  or  Wieden. 
Unfortunately,  Information  on  the  occupation  of  the  brides'  fathers 
was  not  available. 

Jewish  women  who  married  konfessionslos  men  belonged  to  both 
the  middle  and  lower  dasses.  Almost  half  (45.9%)  of  the  Jewish 
brides  of  konfessionslos  husbands  (N  =  24)  married  business  employ- 
ees, while  25%  married  professional  or  dvil  servants,  and  25% 
married  artisans  or  workers.  Only  one  married  a  merchant.  Of  the 


Ititemarriage  and  Conversion    131 


Table  6:2.  Occupations  of  Jewish  Grooms  Who  Married  konfessionslos  Brides  (Number) 


Civil  Servants 

Professionals 

Industrialists 

Merchants 

Business  Employees 

Artisans 

Workers 


1 

1 
8 

16 
2 
1 


N  =  29* 


•  One  groom  did  not  list  profession. 

ten  brides  for  whom  occupation  was  listed,  six  worked  in  the  needle 
trades,  an  occupation  which  gave  them  considerable  contact  with 
gen üle  workers.  On  the  other  band,  wealthy  Viennese  Jewish  women 
rarely  married  gentiles,  at  least  not  without  prior  conversion  to 
Christiantty.  None  of  the  brides  who  married  konfessionslos  men  lived 
in  the  Inner  City  or  Wieden. 

Most  Jews  who  intermarried  did  not  live  in  areas  of  Jewish  con- 
cenlration,  in  neighborhoods  where  the  presence  of  a  large  number 
of  Jews  would  deter  such  matches.  One-quarter  of  both  men  and 
women  who  intermarried  had  homes  in  the  second  district,  but  Jewish 
men  who  married  konfessionslos  women  were  most  likdy  to  live  in 
Mariahilf-Neubau  (VI-VII),  and  the  outer  districts,  while  the  Jewish 
women  who  married  non-Jews  mostiy  resided  in  the  Josefstadt  (VIII) 
the  Aisergrund  (IX),  and  the  outer  districts. 

A  look  at  the  place  of  origin  of  intermarrying  Jews  also  produces 
an  mlerestmg  pattern.  Those  who  chose  konfessionslos  partners  had 
been  born  in  Vienna,  Bohemia,  or  Moravia  generally  speaking.  In 
the  decades  before  Worid  War  I,  only  one-fifth  of  Viennese  Jewrv 
were  natives  of  Vienna,  but  63.3%  of  the  Jewish  men  who  married 
konfessionslos  women  and  56.5%  of  the  Jewish  women  who  married 
non-Jews  had  been  born  in  the  Austrian  capital.  Jews  from  the  more 
traditional  areas  of  Jewish  settlement  in  Hungary  and  Galida  only 
rarely  mtermarried.  Among  the  Jewish  men  who  intermarried    10% 
came  from  Galida  and  3%  from  Hungary,  while  among  the  women 
the  ftgures  were  4%  and  9%,  respectivdy.  When  Jews  intermarried 
they  chose  partners  who  were  either  native-born  or  Czech,  as  would 
be  expected  given  the  ethnic  composition  of  the  Viennese  population 
To  sum  up,  intermarriage  in  Vienna  was  a  reality,  and  the  numbers 
mvolved  grew  from  decade  to  decade.  But  its  extent  did  not  imply 
the  imminent  demographic  dedine  of  the  Jewish  Community  of  The 
Reichshauptstadt.  Despite  the  fears  it  evoked  in  the  Jewish  Community 
neither  did  conversion  to  Christianity. 


j<  K\  b   iij    \  iCUllii 


Netu 


( "Harmony" )  (1903)  saw  themselves  as  men  from  "the  best  circles 
of  Vienna  Jewry"  and  as  "a  phalanx  of  high-principled,  intelligent, 
and  educated  Jews,  an  ethical  society."  Both  chapters  devoted  them- 
selves to  the  idea  that  one  could  be  both  a  Jew  and  a  "modern 
man."  Deriving  its  leadership  from  the  same  circles  as  the  IKG,  B'nai 
B'rith  sought  to  deflate  anti-Jewish  prejudice  not  through  public 
action,  but  through  what  it  considered  proper  Jewish  public  and 
personal  conduct.'«  B'nai  B'rith  supported  the  work  of  the  human- 
itarian  organizations  mentioned  above,  and  worked  tirelessly  on 
behalf  of  Russian  Jewish  pogrom  victims,  those  Jews  who  suffered 
during  the  Balkan  Wars,  and  poor  Jews  in  the  Austrian  capital. 
Eintracht,  for  example,  ran  the  Toynbee  Hall  Jewish  settlement  house 
in  Brigittenau  (XX)  after  its  original  Zionist  directors  were  no  longer 
able  to  do  so  in  1904.  Both  chapters  sponsored  lectures  on  Jewish 
and  general  topics,  including  Freud's  early  lectures  on  the  Interpre- 
tation of  dreams.^^  In  1911  the  B'nai  B'rith  opened  a  youth  Organi- 
zation, the  Jüdischer  Jugendbund,  to  inculcate  its  values  among  the 
younger  generation  of  Viennese  Jewish  notables. '^  B'nai  B'rith  pro- 
vided  both  an  opportunity  for  secular  Jews  to  experience  their  Jew- 
ishness  profoundly,  and  an  important  framework  within  which  mem- 
bers  of  the  Viennese  Jewish  elite  could  associate  primarily  with  each 
other. 

Vienna's  wealthiest  and  most  prominent  Jews  did  not  find  them- 
selves alone  in  their  humanitarian  and  charitable  work  on  behalf  of 
other  Jews.  Middle-class  and  poor  Jews  also  organized  to  help  others 
less  fortunate  and  to  socialize  with  each  other.  Moreover,  many  Jews 
organized  self-help  organizations  which  offered  sickness  and  death 
benefits  to  members,  perhaps  because  they  resented  the  condescend- 
ing  tone  of  the  charities  run  by  the  notables.  Among  these  societies 
were  the  Kranken-,  Witwen-,  und  Waisenunterstützungs-Verein:  Chesed 
Shel  Emes  (  "Society  for  Support  to  the  Sick,  Widowed,  and  Orphaned: 
Act  of  True  Kindness" ),  and  Wohlt'ätigkeits-  und  Krankenunterstüt- 
zungs-Verein:  Mazmiah  Jeschua  (  "Society  for  Benevolence  and  Support 
for  the  Sick:  Growth  of  Salvation" )."  The  decades  before  World 
War  I  witnessed  the  growth  of  women's  charitable  organizations 
which  provided  bourgeois  Jewish  women  with  the  opportunity  to 
fulfili  the  nineteenth-century  ideal  of  female  philanthropy.  These 
women's  groups  provided  footl,  clothing,  even  summer  camps  to 
poor  school  children,  and  worked  for  the  education  of  Jews  in 
working-class  areas  of  the  city.^*  Moreover,  Jews  organized  special 
interest  associations  and  Tempelvereine  ( "Synagogue  Societies" )  to 
build  new  synagogues. 

Alongside  the  general  charitable  and  social  organizations  of  Jews 
in  Vienna,  an  extensive  network  of  Immigrant  religious,  cultural,  and 


uoiKü  anu  ,.iifii>n  uuniny      1:>1 


social  organizations  existed.  Immigrants,  especially  those  from  Galicia, 
feit  scorned  by  and  excluded  from  the  Germanized  Jewish  establish- 
ment,  and  they  proudly  created  a  Galician-Jewish  subculture  in 
Vienna.  Even  wealthy  Galician  Jews  joined  in  this  separate  Galician 
Jewish  Community. 

The  basic  unit  of  Immigrant  Community  life  was  the  Landsmann- 
schaft, that  Organization  of  people  from  the  same  town  or  district 
found  in  all  areas  of  Jewish  immigrant  settlement  in  Western  Europe 
and  America.  Landsmannschaften  provided  sickness  and  death  benefits 
to  members,  and  more  importantly  functioned  as  centers  of  social 
life  where  people  from  the  same  town  could  establish  warm  con- 
nections  with  old  friends  and  neighbors.  Shunning  the  official  Com- 
munity, they  sought  financial  assistance  and  sociability  largely  from 
each  other.  Most  of  the  Landsmannschaften  in  Vienna  were  composed 
of  Galician  Jews,  but  many  Hungarian  and  Moravian  Jews  founded 
such  organizations  as  well.^^ 

Yiddish-speaking  Jewish  immigrants  did  not  have  much  success  in 
creating  a  strong  Yiddish  culture  in  Vienna.  No  Yiddish  newspapers 
appeared  in  cities  in  Germany  with  large  Eastern  European  popu- 
lations,  and  the  same  was  true  in  Vienna.  The  German-language 
milieu  perhaps  explains  this  absence.  Since  Yiddish  was  linguistically 
close  to  German,  Yiddish  Speakers  did  not  face  much  difficulty  reading 
the  German-language  press  once  they  had  mastered  the  Gothic  Script. 
Moreover,  German-speaking  Jews  deprecated  Yiddish  as  Jargon  and 
may  have  placed  difficulties  in  the  way  of  those  wishing  to  create 
a  Yiddish  press. '^ 

Moreover,  Jewish  immigrants  to  Vienna  did  not  write  great  Yiddish 
literature  in  this  period  as  did  Eastern  European  immigrants  in  New 
York,  London,  and  Paris.  Organizations  like  Jüdische  Kultur  did  Spon- 
sor "evenings"  for  Yiddish  poetry  readings  and  lectures  on  Yiddish 
literature,^^  but  apart  from  these  "evenings"  the  only  active  public 
Yiddish  culture  in  Vienna  was  the  Yiddish  repertory  theater.  In  the 
final  years  before  World  War  I,  one,  sometimes  two,  Yiddish  repertory 
theaters  performed  the  classics  of  the  Yiddish  stage  in  Vienna.  The 
Jüdische  Bühne  ( "Jewish  Stage" ),  a  repertory  group  under  the  di- 
rection  of  M.  Siegler,  performed  at  the  Hotel  Stefanie  on  the  Ta- 
borstrasse  in  the  heart  of  the  Leopoldstadt,  providing  regulär  seasons 
of  plays  by  Avrom  Goldfadn,  Jakob  Gordin,  Lateiner,  Perez  Hirsch- 
bein, and  others.  The  Jüdisches  Theater-Variete  performed  similar 
melodramas  in  Yiddish. ^^ 

Immigrant  Jews  in  Vienna  focused  more  attention  on  their  religious 
needs  than  on  Yiddish  culture.  Galician  (and  Hungarian)  Jews  in 
Vienna  established  many  Beth'duser,  prayer  rooms,  where  they  con- 
ducted  Services  as  they  had  back  home.  These  Jews  found  the  more 


152    The  Jews  of  Vienna 


formal  religious  Services  in  the  Gemeinde  temples  uncomfortable. 
Wealthier  Jewish  immigrants  from  Galicia  also  established  their  own 
synagogues  which  would  be  both  "Polish"  and  consonant  with  their 
middle-class  or  upper-class  respectability.  Annoyed  both  by  the  noisy 
orthodox  Beth'duser,  and  by  the  German  tone  of  the  official  IKG 
synagogues,  they  resolved  to  create  their  own  decorous  and  modern 
temple,  in  which  Services  would  be  conducted  according  to  the  "Polish 
rite/'  that  is,  using  the  Polish  melodies.  The  Israelitischer  Bethhaus- 
Verein,  Beth  Israel,  organized  in  1882,  sought  to  build  a  synagogue 
that  would  be  "a  spiritual  home  for  the  Jewish  people  [of  Polish 
origin]  in  the  metropolis  of  the  Empire."  Ignaz  Jolles  of  the  building 
committee  assured  Viennese  Jewry  that  this  "light  and  clean"  syn- 
agogue would  not  be  the  scene  of  zealotry  nor  "a  fortress  of  Opposition 
to  religious  enlightenment"  but  a  modern,  orthodox  synagogue  for 
Services  conducted  according  to  Polish-Jewish  customs  and  melo- 
dies." After  raising  money  in  the  1880s  and  1890s  from  such  wealthy 
Galician  Jews  in  Vienna  as  Arthur  Edler  von  Mises,  and  conducting 
a  lottery  in  1891  and  1892  with  the  assistance  of  Galician-born 
polemicists  Saul  Raphael  Landau  and  Josef  Samuel  Bloch,  the  Verein 
built  a  synagogue  at  29  Leopoldsgasse  in  the  Leopoldstadt  in  time 
for  the  1893  High  Holidays.^o 

Galician  Jews  in  Vienna  did  not  content  themselves  with  religious 
and  social  organizations.  Their  spokesmen  called  for  political  agitation 
within  the  Jewish  Community  to  combat  the  contempt  for  "Polish" 
Jews  among  the  Germanized  Jewish  elite  and  to  ensure  equal  rep- 
resentation  for  Ostjuden  (Eastern  European  Jews)  in  Jewish  communal 
affairs.  In  an  article  in  the  Jev^ish  weekly  Oesterreichische  Wochenschrift 
in  April,  1908,  an  author  named  J.  Grobtuch  noted:  "In  no  other 
Weltstadt  is  such  an  animosity  against  Galician  Jews  so  predominant 
as  in  Vienna."  He  called  on  all  Galician  Jews  in  the  city  to  organize 
in  Order  to  obtain  better  conditions.  Grobtuch  himself  shied  away 
from  direct  confrontations;  he  merely  demanded  more  Jobs  for  Gal- 
ician-Jewish  clerks  and  salesmen  who  faced  discrimination  at  the 
hands  of  antisemites  and  "antisemitic"  Jews  alike.^* 

Responding  to  Grobtuch's  Suggestion  in  the  pages  of  S.  R.  Landau's 
Jewish  nationalist  weekly,  Neue  National-Zeitung,  a  writer  identified 
as  "Dr.  K"  agreed  that  the  animosity  against  Polish  Jews  in  Vienna, 
especially  in  the  halls  of  the  IKG,  was  staggering  and  necessitated 
an  Organization  of  Galician  Jews.  He  quarreled,  however,  with  Grob- 
tuch's  a Version  to  political  action.  On  the  contrary,  he  argued,  a 
Galician  Jewish  Organization  should  engage  in  political  struggle  to 
elect  self-conscious  Galician  Jews  to  the  Board  of  the  Gemeinde  to 
ensure  representation  for  Galician  interests  there.  He  called  on  the 
already  existing  Galician-Jewish  organizations  such  as  the  Kaufm'än- 


Networks  and  Jewish  Identity    153 


nischer  UnterstUtzungsverein:  Osten  ( "Society  for  the  Protection  of 
Merchants:  The  East" ),  organized  in  1876  to  provide  loans  and 
grants-in-aid  to  Galician  Jews  in  Vienna,  to  unite  in  a  strong  new 
Organization  of  all  Ostjuden  in  the  capital.^^ 

Two  years  later,  in  1910,  the  Verband  der  'östlichen  Juden  in  Wien 
( "Federation  of  Eastern  Jews  in  Vienna" )  was  founded  to  "raise  the 
feeling  of  solidarity  among  the  Jews  of  eastern  origin  in  Vienna,  as 
well  as  to  protect  and  further  their  interests  in  social,  material,  and 
economic  areas."  The  Organization  appealed  to  all  those  dissatisfied 
with  the  present  condition  of  Eastern  European  Jews  in  Vienna, 
where  Galician  Jews  were  held  in  contempt  by  Jews  from  the  Czech 
lands  and  Hungary.  It  urged  its  members  to  engage  in  political  action 
to  overcome  that  contempt.  The  Federation  also  sought  to  provide 
legal  and  financial  assistance  to  poor  Galician  Jews  in  the  city,  and 
to  persecuted  Jews  in  Eastern  Europe.  Primarily,  however,  it  saw 
itself  as  the  center  of  Galician-Jewish  social  life  in  Vienna.^^ 

One  group  of  orthodox  Galician  Jews  organized  to  protect  the 
special  interests  of  very  religious  Galician  Jews  in  the  city.  In  October 
1903,  this  group  opened  a  chapter  of  Machzike  Hadath  (  "Strength- 
eners  of  the  Faith"  )  to  unite  the  orthodox  for  political  action.  Machzike 
Hadath,  originally  founded  in  1879  in  Galicia,  argued  that  the  Ge- 
meinde Board  and  the  Jewish  establishment  ignored  the  needs  of 
orthodox  Galician  Jews.  In  addition  to  serving  the  religious  needs  of 
Jewish  migrants  enroute  to  America,  Machzike  Hadath  strove  to  unify 
the  Polish-Jewish  Community  of  the  capital.^* 


Political  Organizations 


Alongside  these  charitable  and  social  organizations,  Viennese  Jews 
established  political  movements  to  fight  for  individual  Jewish  rights 
or  for  Jewish  national  equality.  Political  and  racial  antisemitism  in 
the  Habsburg  capital  forced  the  Jews  not  only  to  worry  about  their 
Position  but  also  to  reexamine  their  assimilationist  goals.  As  a  result, 
they  created  three  new  movements  to  deal  with  the  problem  of 
antisemitism  and  to  redefine  what  it  meant  to  be  a  Jew  in  Austria. 
The  first  response  of  the  Jews  in  Vienna  was  to  create  the  Oesterreich- 
Israelitische  Union  (  "The  Austrian-Israelite  Union" ),  which  sought 
to  defend  Jewish  rights  against  the  increasingly  violent  attacks  of  the 
Austrian  antisemites.  Viennese  Jews  subsequently  created  Zionism, 
which  sought  to  establish  a  Jewish  State  in  the  land  of  Israel,  and 
diaspora  Jewish  nationalism,  which  regarded  Zionism  as  utopian  fluff 
and  demanded  the  recognition  of  the  Jewish  nation  within  a  nationally 
federated  Austria. 


216    Notes 


Notes    217 


largest  wave  of  migration  from  Galicia  arrived  between  1857  and  1869,  and 
that  the  period  1880-1910  witnessed  a  gradual  decline  in  the  migration  of 
Jews  from  Galicia  to  the  capital.  My  findings,  on  the  contrary,  indicate  an 
increase  in  Jewish  migration  to  Vienna  in  the  later  period.  Mr.  Rabinbach 
did  not  employ  primary  sources,  and  it  seems  that  his  conclusions  are 
incorrect.  See  Marsha  L.  Rozenblit,  "A  Note  on  Galidan  Jewish  Migration 
to  Vienna/'  Austrian  History  Yearbook  (forthcoming). 

32.  In  1766  the  Empress  Maria  Theresa  ordered  Bohemian  and  Moravian 
Jews  to  record  their  births  and  circumcisions.  In  1784,  her  son  Joseph  II 
extended  the  order  to  Vienna.  See  Julius  Rosenfeld,  Die  MatrikelfUhrung  der 
Israeliten  in  Oesterreich  nach  den  bestehenden  staatlichen  Vorschriften  (Vienna, 
1913). 

33.  Low,  p.  179.  Low  must  have  miscalculated  somewhat  because  his 
figures  do  not  add  up  to  100%. 

34.  Peter  Schmidtbauer,  "Zur  sozialen  Situation  der  Wiener  Juden  im  Jahre 
1857,"  Studia  Judaica  Austriaca  6  (1978),  p.  62.  Schmidtbauer  studied  a 
sample  of  the  Jewish  population  in  the  Inner  City  and  the  Leopoldstadt,  a 
sample  which  accounted  for  46.9%  of  the  Jews  in  Vienna  in  1857. 

35.  In  his  study  of  the  1869  census,  Jeiteles  (pp.  56-57)  found  3.4%  of 
the  Jews  in  Vienna  to  be  Viennese,  11.3%  Bohemian,  20.9%  Moravian,  13% 
Galician,  and  46.3%  Hungarian.  Jeiteles  derived  these  figures  from  the  number 
of  Jewish  families  rather  than  the  number  of  Jewish  individuals  in  Vienna. 

36.  Much  work  has  been  done  on  population  transiency  in  American  cities. 
See  for  example,  Michael  Katz,  The  People  of  Hamilton,  Canada  West:  Family 
and  Class  in  a  Mid-Nineteenth-Century  City  (Cambridge,  Mass.,  1975),  pp. 
20-21,  122,  127-31;  Stephan  Themstrom,  The  Other  Bostonians:  Poverty  and 
Progress  in  the  American  Metropolis,  1880-1970  (Cambridge,  Mass.,  1973),  eh. 
2;  Peter  Knights,  "Population  Turnover,  Persistence  and  Residential  Mobility 
in  Boston,"  in  Nineteenth-Century  Cities:  Essays  in  the  New  Urban  History, 
ed.  Stephan  Thernstrom  and  Richard  Sennett  (New  Haven,  1969),  pp. 
258-74.  In  a  paper  delivered  to  the  American  Historical  Association  in 
December  1979,  William  Hubbard  reported  great  population  transiency  in 
the  Austrian  city  of  Graz  in  the  nineteenth  Century. 

37.  Thomas  Kessner,  The  Golden  Door:  Italian  and  Jewish  Immigrant  Mobility 
in  New  York  City  1880-1915  (New  York,  1977),  pp.  142,  147-48. 

38.  In  his  study  of  Hamilton,  Ontario,  Michael  Katz,  pp.  127-31  found 
that  the  persistence  rate  of  the  wealthy  was  much  higher  than  that  of  the 
less  prosperous. 

39.  In  Hamilton  only  about  one-third  of  the  population  retained  its  res- 
idence  in  the  city  from  decade  to  decade  (Katz,  p.  122). 

40.  The  Jewish  preference  for  family  migration  has  been  discussed  in  the 
literature  on  mass  migration  of  Jews  to  the  United  States.  See  for  example, 
Samuel  Joseph,  pp.  127-32;  Lestschinsky,  Jewish  Migration,  p.  8.  The  Galician 
Jews  who  fled  to  Vienna  during  Worid  War  I  also  came  with  their  families. 
See  Aryeh  Tartakower,  "Jewish  Migratory  Movements  in  Austria  in  Recent 
Generations,"  in  Josef  Fraenkel,  The  Jews  of  Austria:  Essays  in  Their  Life, 
History  and  Destruction  (London,  1967),  p.  291. 


41.  Rauchberg,  Bevölkerung,  pp.  101-2,  111;  idem,  "Der  Zug  nach  der 
Stadt,"  pp.  130,  138;  idem,  "Heimatsverhältnisse/'  p.  353;  Weber,  pp.  276-78. 

42.  Ost.  Stat.,  63:1,  pp.  lii,  3;  63:2,  p.  55. 

43.  Regions  of  the  Austrian  provinces  used  in  Table  2:7  are  those  officially 
designated  by  the  Austrian  Statistical  Central  Commission;  see,  for  example, 
Ost.  Stat.,  32:2,  p.  viin.  For  a  list  of  Bezirke  in  each  region,  see  ibid.  For 
Hungary,  the  regions  used  here  are  those  employed  in  the  Ungarisches 
statistisches  Jahrbuch,  which  divided  Hungary  proper  into  seven  regions  along 
its  principal  rivers:  the  Left  Bank  of  the  Danube,  Right  Bank  of  the  Danube, 
between  the  Danube  and  Tisza,  Right  Bank  of  the  Tisza,  Left  Bank  of  the 
Tisza,  between  the  Tisza  and  Maros,  and  Transylvania,  as  well  as  Fiume 
and  Croatia-Slavonia.  To  place  Jewish  hometowns  into  these  provinces  and 
regions,  I  employed  the  Austrian  Statistical  Central  Commission's  Allgemeines 
Ortschaften-Verzeichniss  der  im  Reichsrathe  vertretenen  Königreiche  und  Länder 
nach  den  Ergebnissen  der  Volkszählung  vom  31.  December  1900  (Vienna,  1902), 
and  its  Gemeinde-Lexikon  der  im  Reichsrathe  vertretenen  Königreiche  und  Länder 
bearbeitet  auf  Grund  der  Ergebnisse  der  Volkszählung  vom  31.  December  1900 
(Vienna,  1903-8).  The  Allgemeines  Ortschaf ten-Verzeichniss  recorded  the  pop- 
ulation of  every  commune  in  Austria,  and  the  Gemeinde-Lexikon  broke  down 
the  population  of  every  commune  by  religion.  For  Hungarian  towns  and 
cities,  I  used  Publications  statistiques  hongroises  (1900). 

44.  Figures  on  regional  origin  for  general  population  from  Rauchberg, 
Bevölkerung,  p.  119;  idem,  "Heimatsverhältnisse,"  pp.  385-86. 

45.  Ibid. 

46.  Rauchberg,  Bevölkerung,  p.  129. 

47.  Rauchberg,  Bevölkerung,  p.  119;  "Heimatsverhältnisse,"  pp.  385-86. 

48.  Rauchberg,  Bevölkerung,  p.  135;  "Der  Zug  nach  der  Stadt,"  p.  148. 

49.  Based  on  figures  provided  in  Gemeinde-Lexikon  .  .  .  1900,  X,  Mähren. 

50.  Based  on  figures  provided  in  Gemeinde-Lexikon  .  .  .  1900,  XII,  Galizien. 

51.  Based  on  figures  provided  in  Ungarisches  statistisches  Jahrbuch  (1900) 
and  Publications  statistiques  hongroises,  n.s.  1  (1900). 

52.  Rauchberg,  Bevölkerung,  pp.  91,  136,  146-47;  idem,  "Der  Zug  nach 
der  Stadt,"  pp.  149,  169;  Weber,  pp.  158-220;  KöUmann,  "The  Process  of 
Urbanization,  "  pp.  59-61;  E.  A.  Wrigley,  Population  and  History  (New  York, 
1969),  pp.  146-202. 

53.  Wrigley,  eh.  5. 

54.  Austrian  Jewish  population  density  calculated  from  figures  provided 
in  the  Gemeinde-Lexikon  .  .  .  1900. 

55.  Hungarian  Jewish  population  density  calculated  from  figures  provided 
in  Ungarisches  statistisches  Jahrbuch  (1900),  and  Publications  statistiques  hon- 
groises, n.s.  1  (1900). 

56.  Ibid. 

57.  Ibid. 

58.  See  Gemeinde-Lexikon  .  .  ,  1900,  XII,  Galizien. 

59.  Ibid.,  IX,  Böhmen. 

60.  Theodor  Haas,  Die  Juden  in  Mähren:  Darstellung  der  Rechtsgeschichte 
und  Statistik  unter  besonderer  Berücksichtigung  des  19.  Jahrhunderts  (Brunn, 
1908),  pp.  7,  14;  idem,  "Statistische  Betrachtungen  über  die  jüdische  Be- 


\ 


l£i^.Mi^&iäM.i 


^i^;,^'?'9^-^fV-^:-^;CVi:::r 


'  kiUffmt\Uiüil 


374 


JOURNAL  OF  FAMILY  HISTORY 


Winter,  1980 


Frey,  M. 
1978     "Du  manage  et  du  concubinage  dans  les 

classes   populaires   a  Paris  (1846-1847)." 

Annales:  E.S.C.  33:809-829. 
Henry,  L.  and  C.  Uvy 

1%2    "Quelques  donnees  sur  la  r^gion  autour  de 
Paris  au  XVIIIe  siecle."   Population  17- 
297-326. 
Kaplow,  J. 

1972    The  Names  of  Kings.  The  Parisian  Ubor- 
ing  Poor  in  the  Eighteenth  Centuiy.  New 
York:  Basic  Books. 
Lachiver,  M. 

1%9    U  Population  de  Meulan  du  XVIIe»au 
XIXe  siecle.  Etüde  de  demographie  bis- 
torique.  Paris:  S.E.V.P.E.N. 
Laslett.  P. 

1977    Family   Life  and   lUidt   Love   in   Eariier 
Generations.  Cambridge:  Cambridge  Uni- 
vcrsity  Press. 
Lottin.  A. 

1970    "Naissance  Ul^gitime  et  fUles-mWes  a  Lille 
au   XVIIIe  siicie."   Revue   d'histoire 
moderne  et  contemporaine  17:278-322. 
Musksud.  M.,  and  A.  Nizard 

1977  "Enfants  trouvcs,  reconnus,  legitimes.  Les 
statistiques  de  la  filiation  en  France,  aux 
XIXe  et  XXe  sikles."  Population  32:1159- 
1220. 

Neuman,  R.  P. 

1978  "Working  Class  Birth  Control  in  WUhel- 
mine  Germany."  Comparative  Studies  in 
Society  and  History  20:408-28. 


Perrot,  M. 
1976    "L'eloge  de  la  me'nagere  dans  le  discours 
des  ouvriers  fran9ais  au  XIXe  si^Ie."  In 
Mythes  et  reprcsentations  de  la  femme  au 
XIXe  siecle.  Paris:  A.  Colin. 

Pierrard,  P. 

1%5    U  vie  ouvriere  k  Ulle  sous  le  Second  Em 
pire.  Paris:  Blous  et  Gay. 
Rouf  Paul 

1903    U  Code  de  l'union  librc.  Paris:  A.  Micha- 
Ion. 
Shorter,  E. 

1971     "Illegitimacy,  Sexual  Revolution,  and  So- 
cial Change  in  Modern  Europe."  Journal  of 
Interdisciplinary  History  2:237-272. 
1971a  "The  Decline  of  Non-Marital  FertUity  in 
Europe,    1880-1940."   Population  Studies 
25:375-393. 
1973    "Female  Emandpation.  Birth  Control.  and 
Fertility  in  European  History."  American 
Historical  Review  78:605-640. 
Le  Travail. 

1901-   Organe  sodaliste  et  syndical  des  travailleurs 
1906    du  canton  d'Argenteuil. 
ThuUIier.  G. 

1966    "Une  erreur  d'investissement:   Imphy  de 
1854  l  1860."  In  Aspccts  de  r&onomie 
nivernaUe  au  XIXe  siecle.  Paris:  A.  Colin. 
Tilly.  L,  J.  Scott,  and  M.  Cohen 
1976    "Women's  Work  and   European  Fertility 
Pattems."  Journal  of  Interdisdplinary  His- 
tory 6:447-476. 
Tricart,  J. 

1948    U  culture  fhiiri^  dans  la  r^gion  paris 
ienne.  Parii:  P.U.F. 


Winter.  1980 


JOURNAL  OF  FAMILY  HISTORY 


}&      375 


HOUSEHOLDS  AND  HOUSEHOLD 
FORMS  OF  VIENNESE  JEWS  IN 
1857 


Peter  Schmidtbauer' 


Immigration  and  Distribution 

By  the  middle  of  thc  nineteenth  Century, 
Vienna  had  become  a  major  center  of 
European  Jewry.  Jews  flocked  to  Vienna  as 
the  most  important  economic  and  political 
center  of  southeastem  Europe,  at  first 
from  western  Hungary  and  Moravia,  later 
from  Galicia,  Rumania,  and  even  Russia. 
Numbering  only  6,000  Jews  in  a  popula- 
tion  of  357,000  in  1840  (1.7  pcrcent), 
Vienna  included  202,000  of  them  in  a 
Population  of  1,866,000  by  1923  (10.8  per- 
cent)  (Goldhammer,  1927:9;  Statistisches 
Jahrbuch,  1883  ff.).  This  increase,  how- 
ever,  requires  correction,  because  the 
initial  number  shows  the  legal  residents, 
not  the  illegal  ones  whose  number  was 
considerable  in  the  first  half  of  the  nine- 
teenth Century.  Moreover,  many  Jewish 
immigrants  were  lost  due  to  a  rising 
tendency  among  them  to  convert  to 
Christianity,  not  only  among  the  well-to- 
do,  but  also  among  the  common  people 
(cf.  Mischler,  1887:  70-71).  Altogether  the 
Viennese  Jewry  lost  about  13,000  by  con- 
version  from  1848  to  1914  (Statistische 
Jahrbuch,  1883  ff.)  Although  the  Jews 
were  not  the  only  minority  in  Vienna,  thcy 
were  practically  the  only  non-Christians; 
all  other  non-Giristians  combined  never 


exceeded  0.25  percent  during  the  Mon- 
archy. 

The  great  majority  of  thc  Jews  came  to 
live  in  the  Leopoldstadt,  a  large  Island  in 
the  Danube  near  the  center  of  Vienna, 
where  the  seventeenth-century  ghetto  had 
been.  From  the  old  ghetto  the  Jewish  set- 
tlement  spread  all  over  the  Leopoldstadt, 
so  that  in  1923  38.5  percent  of  the  popula- 
tion  there  was  Jewish  (Goldhammer,  1927: 
10).  Another  center  of  Jews  in  the  city  lay 
immediately  opposite  the  Leopoldstadt 
where  ofßcially  tolerated  Jewish  tradesmen 
had  lived  in  the  eighteenth  Century.  The 
oldest  eztant  synagogue  was  there,  as  well 
as  the  main  center  of  Jewish  cultural  and 
religious  life.  But  the  number  of  Jews  was 
never  so  large  as  to  form  a  solidly  ethnic 
enclave  anywhere  in  the  city. 

nOURE  1.  VIENNA:  AREAS. 


Laopoldttadt 


k 


% 


B 


Im*   of    0*nt*t 


*Dr.  Schmidtbauer  eamed  hb  doctorate  at  the 
Univerthy  of  Vienna  where  he  it  at  pnMnt  aaaiitaBt 
lecturer  in  the  Institute  of  Economic  and  Social  Hit- 
tory.  His  current  reeearch  is  devoted  to  the  ttudy  of 
household  and  family  in  preinduitrial  Austria. 


^ 


tt  »t0>miH 


Oty 


■tum 


•  ►4- ' 


U 


376 


JOURNAL  OF  FAMILY  HISTORY 


Winter,  1980  ■winter,  1980 


Using  thc  census  of  October  31,  1857 
(the  only  onc  for  which  all  thc  original 
Sheets  are  preserved  in  the  Vienna  city 
archives),  I  have  compared  Jewish  and 
non-Jewish  populations  in  four  types  of 
areas  marked  by  letters  in  Figure  1.  This 
comparison  comprises  four  different  areas 
of  Jewish  settlement:  A  consisted  primarily 
of  upper-class  Citizens,  including  a  very 
small  number  of  Jews  (3.0  percent  of  6,000 
inhabitants);  B  had  a  larger  percentage  of 
Jews  concentrated  mainly  near  the  syna- 
gogue  (23.3  percent  of  7,100  inhabitants); 
C  was  centered  on  the  old  Leopoldstadt 
ghetto  (44.9  percent  of  3,700  inhabitants); 
and  D  was  a  more  or  less  newly  built-up 
area  with  a  growing  Jewish  population 
(15.8  percent  of  7,300  inhabitants). 

The  social  stratification  of  these  areas 
is,  of  course,  difficult  to  establish.  Ncver- 
theless,  I  have  tried  to  distinguish  them 
using  the  number  of  servants,  the  profes- 
sions  of  household  heads,  and  the  presence 
of  aristocratic  families  as  essential  criteria. 
Four  ncw  types  of  areas  appeared,  ranging 
from  the  very  best  (I)  to  the  worst  (IV)  (see 
Figure  2).  One  can  see  that  the  majority  of 
the  Jewf  lived  among  the  cit/s  middlc 
dasses.  Whereas  the  percentage  of  Jews  in 
the  best  area  I  was  only  5.3  percent  of 
3,600  inhabitants,  it  was  29.0  percent  in 
area  II  with  8.000  inhabitants,  and  feil  to 
16.6  percent  in  area  III  with  5,300  in- 
habitants and  16.1  percent  in  area  IV  with 
7,800  inhabitants.  On  average,  then,  Jews 
in  the  Vienna  of  1857  lived  in  more  wcll-to- 
do  areas  than  non-Jews.  Among  the  4,644 
Jcwi  in  the  sample,  exactly  half  of  them 
lived  in  area  II,  27.1  percent  in  area  IV. 
18.8  percent  in  area  III,  and  only  4.1  per- 
cent in  area  L' 

It  is  well-nigh  impossible  to  discover  ex- 
actly  where  the  immigrants  came  from.  At 


'The  tample  cooulned  74.7  percent  of  the  ofBd- 
ally  registeied  Jewish  populatk»  of  Vieniu  (cf.  Gold, 
1971:15).  UnderregistntkMi  probably  occurred,  but 
was  much  less  frequent  than  h  had  been  before  1848. 


FIGURE    2.    VIENNA:    SGCIG-GEO- 
GRAPHICAL  AREAS. 


Ltopoldstadt 


Ar*  »t  Oinute 


Wnj  fMM 


the  time,  Austrian  subjects  were  registered 
by  right  of  residence,  which  husbands  con- 
ferred  on  wives  and  fathers  on  children. 
regardless  of  where  wives  or  children  were! 
actually  bom.  People  acquired  the  right  of  j 
residence  after  a  sojoum  of  several  yean  inj 
one  place,  but  this  residence  became  a  fic-j 
tion  if  they  subsequently  moved.  Thus,  the 
registration  by  right  of  residence  providfli{ 
only  a  rough  idea  of  where  the  family  ori-j 
ginated  or  where  its  members  were] 
actually  bom.' 

Despite  this.  it  appean  that  over  301 
percent  of  Immigrant  Jews  came  froflif 
Hungary,  including  Slovakia  (with  Prest-j 
burg/Poszony/Bratislava)  and  from  Bu^| 
genland  (eastem  Austria).  including  Mat« 


*Iii  1900.  the  divergence  between  birthplacc 
legal  residence  wu  25  percent  (plus  or  minus), 
tables  in  Statistisches  Jahrbuch.  1901:34^1.  In  H 
the  dirergence  woiüd  hare  been  somewhat  snialler. 


JOURNAL  OF  FAMILY  HISTORY 


377 


tersdorf/Nagymarton.  Between  15  and  20 
percent  of  the  Jews  came  from  Moravia 
where  the  emigration  center  was  Nikols- 
burg/Mikulov.  About  10  percent  origi- 
nated  in  Galicia.  A  number  of  Galician 
Jews  may  have  acquired  rights  of  residence 
in  other  places,  mainly  Moravia,  on  thcir 
way  to  Vienna,  but  direct  immigration 
from  Galicia  was  rising:  thc  youngest  and 
poorest  of  the  Viennese  were  the  many 
lodgers  from  Galicia.  Accounting  for 
about  a  fifth  of  all  non-Jewish  immigrants 
to  Vienna,  Bohemia  scnt  only  a  littlc  over  5 
percent  of  the  city's  Jews.  The  proportion 
of  proven  indigenous  Jews  among  adults 
was  negligible,  about  1  percent  (Schmidt- 
bauer. 1978:62). 


The  pattems  of  immigration  for  Jews 
and  Christians  differed  grcatly.  First,  they 
came  from  different  regions.  Thc  per- 
centage of  Jews  from  Hungary  was  6.1 
times  higher  than  that  of  Christians;  for 
Jews  from  Galicia,  it  was  7.5  times,  and 
for  Jews  from  Moravia.  2.2  times.  On  thc 
other  band,  the  percentage  of  Christian 
immigrants  from  Bohemia  was  3.6  times 
larger  than  that  of  Jews;  and  from  the 
Alpine  provinces,  the  proportion  of  Chris- 
tians was  more  than  10  times  greater 
(Schmidtbauer,  1978:63).  But  beyond 
these  regional  differences,  the  whole 
structure  of  Jewish  immigration  was 
different.  While  the  vast  majority  of 
Christian  immigrants  came  as  apprentices 


FIGURE  3.  POPULATION  PYRAMIDS:  LEOPOLDSTADT. 


"it     i2ä     iJö 


Chrisfians 


«e  .jo 


t — t 


«0 


I  Itdgars 


I«»itn 


*  larvanti 


»     40     2      i     Ä     äö     itö     itö     2ö    £     Äd 


Jews 


«0       120 


40 


20       40 


60 


VO      120 


agt  group  0-9*100 


Malea        Feouüet 


IV 


E^ 


b't-- 


fcff.Vt.'.i^  ^ 


f 


i 


X 


l*!^f» 


-Sti 


&' 


i'A 


.#^: 


!-^ 


■r,--! 


\ 


.1 


i'^^ 


j 


378 


JOURNAL  OF  FAMILY  HISTORY 


Winter,  1980 


or  servants,  thc  Jewish  immigrants  settled 
mainly  as  lodgers,  apart  from  a  rather 
small  number  of  Jewish  cooks  (see  Figure 
3).  Moreover,  these  cooks  consitituted  the 
only  sizcable  group  of  female  Jewish  immi- 
grants, while  among  Christians  female 
immigrants  outnumbered  males  by  about 
1.8  to  1.  Thus,  cven  the  general  sex  ratio 
difFcred;  the  Jews  in  the  Leopoldstadt  had 
a  ratio  of  122  males  to  100  females,  the 
Christians  one  of  80  to  100. 

The  impact  of  Immigration  on  the 
Population  pyramid  is  shown  in  Figure  4, 
whcre  one  can  see  that  Immigration  was 
rclativcly  higher  for  non-Jews  throughout 
the  period.  But  the  differences  were  es- 
pecially  large  among  women.  Female 
Christian  Immigration  also  does  not  seem 
to  have  been  afTected  by  economic 
changes;  its  curve  does  not  show  any  of  the 
periodic  bulges  cspecially  prominent  for 
all  men  and  to  a  lesser  degree  for 
Jewish  women. 


Houiehold  Forms 


Area  of  residence  certainly  conferred 
social  Prestige.  But  to  evaluate  social 
Status  more  thoroughly,  the  researcher 
must  study  the  composition  of  the  House- 
hold. Considering  the  five  basic  roles  in  a 
pre-modem  Austrian  household— heads, 
children,  kin,  servants,  and  lodgers — one 
can  form  a  number  of  household  types  and 
for  a  basic  evaluation,  compare  the  fre- 
quencies  of  different  types  among  different 
groups  in  the  population.^ 

All  forms  of  households  with  kin  other 
than  members  of  the  nuclear  family  were 
rare;  none  had  more  than  2  percent  in  the 
Population.  Taken  together  only  9.8  per- 
cent of  all  households  contained  such  kin. 
A  lower  socio-economic  Standing  meant  a 


*Cf.  Schmidtbauer,  forthcoming.  Of  course,  there 
»re  no  iure  borderlines  betwecn  these  roles.  Some 
divisions  will  always  be  somewhat  arbitrary. 


nOURE  4.  POPULATION  PYRAMID.  LEOPOLDSTADT  1857. 


Malet 


Femalet 


Jtws 

Chrisfions 


/f 


ry 


.-«0 


\ 


■^ 


) 


('"  c::l..„ 

■.». _ 


./ 


b 

) 


ISO 


«0  so 


Agt    group    0  -1  ■  100 


•»-^ 


\., 


■"•■N.. 


■^ 


vo 


IST 


200 


Winter.  1980 


JOURNAL  OF  FAMILY  HISTORY 


379 


large  number  of  households  with  non-nu- 
clear  kin  (7.4  percent  of  households  in 
area  I  compared  to  12.5  percent  in  area 
IV).  Surprisingly  thc  Jews  had  consistently 
fewer  households  with  kin  beyond  the  nu- 
clear family,  although  close  kinship  ties 
among  Jews  have  always  been  stressed  in 
the  literature  (cf.  Maier,  1973:561  ff.; 
Goldschmied,  1898:58  ff.).  This  may  have 
resulted  from  the  short  time  most  Vien- 
nese  Jews  had  lived  there  by  1857;  they  had 
not  been  established  long  enough  in  order 
tobring  in  relatives.  Nevertheless,  the  kin- 
ship ties  of  Jews  extended  fiirther  than 
those  of  non-Jews.  Among  the  lattcr,  52 
percent  of  all  coresident  kin  consisted  of 
the  household  head's  siblings  and  only  10 
percent  were  relatives  more  distant  than 
parents,  siblings,  sons-  and  daughters-in- 
law,  or  grandchildren.  Among  Jews  34 


percent  were  siblings  and  26  percent  even 
more  distant  relatives.  Thus.  we  may 
emphasize  the  importance  of  kinship  ties 
in  the  formation  of  the  Jewish  household, 
though  not  the  numbers  of  non-nuclear 
kin.  The  pecentage  of  Jewish  households 
with  such  kin  was  much  lower  than  that  of 
Christians,  just  as  the  mean  number  of  kin 
per  Jewish  household  was  lower  (1.22  com- 
pared to  1.38  per  household). 

From  the  role  played  by  servants  in  the 
households  of  Vienncse  Jews  in  1857,  one 
immcdiately  recognizes  the  Jews*  favorable 
economic  Situation.  In  neariy  all  instances, 
not  only  the  percentage  of  households  con- 
taining  domestic  servants,  but  also  the 
mean  number  of  servants  per  household 
were  higher  than  those  of  Christians.  This 
is  shown  in  Table  1.  On  the  other  band, 
Christians  lived  with  more  non-domestic 


TABLE  1.  DOMESTIC  SERVANTS  IN  JEWISH  AND  NON- JEWISH  HOUSE- 
HOLDS. 


A.  Jews 

Areal 

Area  II 

Area  III 

Area  IV 

Total 

Households  with  Domestic 

Servanu 

87.2^ 

87.3* 

70.4% 

33.6% 

76.7% 

Mean  Number  per  Servant- 

keeping  Household 

2.43 

1.71 

1.60 

1.34 

1.71 

B.  Christians 

Households  with  Domestic 

Servants 

39.4^ 

38.7% 

48.4% 

29.3% 

47.0% 

Mean  Number  per  Servant- 

keepins  Household 

1.82 

1.66 

1.49 

1.21 

1.36 

TABLE  2.    NON-DOMESTIC   SERVANTS   IN  JEWISH   AND   NON-JEWISH 
HOUSEHOLDS. 


/ 


A.  Jews 

Areal 

Area  II 

Area  III 

Area  IV 

Total 

.                               ! 

Households  with  Non- 

) 

domestic  Servanu 
Mean  Number  per  Servant- 

3.8% 

7.6% 

6.3% 

4.0% 

6.1% 

1 

keepint  Household 

1.33 

2.12 

2.14 

3.00 

2.21 

B.  Christians 

I 

Households  with  Non- 

domestic  Servants 
Mean  Number  per  Servant- 

20.0% 

29.2% 

11.7% 

13.8% 

18.7% 

l 

keeping  Household 

2.14 

2.97 

2.81 

2.94 

2.90 

^ 


380 


JOURNAL  OF  FAMILY  HISTORY 


Winter.  1980 


servants,  such  as  apprentices  and  work- 
mcn  who  generally  joined  thc  households 
of  thcir  employers.  Hcrc  thc  percentage  as 
well  as  thc  mean  number  were  far  higher 
among  non-Jews  than  among  Jews  (sec 
Table  2)/ 

It  is  sometimes  difficult  to  distinguish 
bctwcen  live-in  employees  and  lodgcrs  who 
had  no  working  relationship  to  thc  kin 
core  of  thc  household.  Slightly  under  half 
of  thc  households  in  our  sample  contained 
lodgers,  somewhat  less  among  non-Jews 
than  among  Jews  (45.4  versus  49.5  per- 
Cent,  respectively).  But  Christians  had  a 
slightly  greater  number  of  lodgers  per 
household  among  those  keeping  them 
(2.33  compared  to  2.22).  Percentage  and 
mean  number  rose  from  area  I  to  area  IV. 
Only  the  Jews  of  area  I,  a  relatively  small 
number,  defied  this  rule:  thcy  had  more 
lodgers  than  Jews  elsewhere.  The  majority 
of  lodgers  in  Jewish  households  were  also 
Jews,  an  understandablc  fact  in  light  of  the 
difficulties  that  lodgers  faced  in  observing 
the  regulations  of  ritual  law  in  non-Jewish 
households.  It  is  also  understandablc  that 
the  great  majority  of  Jews  who  had  no 
household  of  their  own  lived  as  lodgers  or 
servants  with  other  Jews  (Schmidtbauer, 
1978:59).  Most  of  the  lodgers  were  soll- 
tary,  only  about  a  quarter  Uved  in  recog- 
nizable  sub-groups  within  the  main  house- 
hold either  with  spouses,  children,  or  other 
relatives.  This  was  tnie  for  Jewish  and 
non-Jewish  households  alikc  in  all  areas. 

Tuming  finally  to  the  nuclear  familiet  at 
the  Center  of  the  househokl,  one  can  make 


*Thii  it  due  to  tlw  fa^  that  Vienoete  joumeymen 
«ad  apprratkw  Ihrad  with  th«ir  artisaiial  employvn 
natu  falrly  late  iiito  thc  nfaieteenth  emtarj  (im 
Ehnwr,  1976).  Artkant  were  rery  underrepreMnted 
among  Jewi.  Thc  only  non-doneetlc  aerranti  In 
Jewlth  houachcMt  were  walten  in  family  reetaaranti, 
exoept  for  a  fcw  thope.  That,  the  nnmber  of  aon* 
Jewlth  hoateholdt  coataining  emplojeea  bot  no 
dooMitic  terraatt  li  rather  larg»  (8.8  percent  of  all 
hotttdiokU);  the  nnmber  for  Jewlth  houaeholdt  It 
negl^ble  (0.4  percent). 


out  fundamental  differences  between  Jews 
and  Christians.  Whcreas  72.0  percent  of 
all  Jewish  households  contained  children, 
only  57.4  percent  of  the  non-Jewish  did  so. 
Diffcrcnt  factors  worked  to  produce  this 
result.  Although  thc  fertility  of  Jewish 
womcn  was  tower,  their  Infant  mortality 
was  also  lower:  in  cfFcct,  a  larger  number 
of  their  children  survived  (Goldhammer, 
1927:20,22).  Also  the  recent  increase  in 
Jewish  Immigration  in  the  years  im- 
*  mcdiately  preceding  1857,  from  a  trickle 
to  a  flood,  resulted  in  a  larger  proportion 
of  Jewish  couples  of  childbearing  age.  In 
the  Leopoldstadt,  for  instance,  60.7  per- 
cent of  thc  Jewish  household  heads  and 
thcir  wives,  compared  to  only  50.8  percent 
of  the  Christian  couples,  were  undcr  age 
45.  These  cfFects  were  so  strong  that  they 
offiset  the  number  of  Jewish  children  who 
Icft  thcir  homes  carlicr  than  their  Chris- 
tian counterparts  (cf.  Schmidtbauer. 
1978:76).  The  pattem  of  leaving  homc  was 
in  general  difTcrent.  Christian  children 
Started  leaving  carlicr,  but  some  remained 
at  home  very  long  indeed;  whcreas  Jewish 
children  started  leaving  slightly  latcr,  but 
only  a  fcw  stayed  on  for  any  Icngth  of  time. 
The  fact  that  "children"  of  over  40  were 
virtually  absent  among  Jews  might,  of 
course,  be  cxplained  by  thc  lower  meao 
age  of  their  heads  of  household;  thc  age 
group  of  heads  over  age  65  with  such 
"chiklren"  was  small,  but  the  data  for  thii 
extreme  group  were  consistent  with  the 
data  for  younger  children  who  were  mach 
more  numerous  among  Jews  (see  Table 
3)." 

The  percentage  of  Jewish  families  with 
sons    exceeded    those    with    daughters; 


*  What  conttltntet  the  difBneoce  between  a  "chUd* 
of  4S  Ihrlng  wHh  a  parent  of  70  and  a  household  head 
of  45  Ihring  whh  a  father  of  70  in  hii  househoidr  Fo^ 
tunately,  the  ceneut  clearly  dlttlngvithed  theae  cas«. 
for  tiie  owner  or  mein  teaant  of  ti»  hooiehold  ww  al* 

wayi  Itited  flitt.  Thlt  doei  reprtieat  lonc  todal 
reality.  bot  I  cannot  dedde  yet  just  bow  accnrate  It  ik 


Winter,  1980 


JOURNAL  OF  FAMILY  HISTORY 


381 


TABLE  3.  AGE  STRUCTURE  OF  CHILDREN. 


Soni 


Jewish        Christian 


Mean  Age  of  Children 
Children  Over  14 
Over  20 
Over  30 


Daughters 
Jewish         Christian 


among  Christians  it  was  rcverscd.  This  was 
undoubtedly  caused  by  diffcrcnt  attitudes 
towards  marriagc  among  the  two  groups. 
.I[?£l*£*!Ü^  »J'  Jcwcsses  marricd  (over  90 
percent),  whilc  nearly  40  percent  of  non- 
Jewish  womcn  did  not  (Schmidtbauer, 
1978:74-75).  These  were  mainly  servants, 
but  the  great  surplus  of  unmarried  womcn 
ccrtainly  affected  a  daughter's  chances  for 
marriagc. 

By  far  the  grcatcst  number  of  household 
heads  were  marricd  couples.  Here  again 
WC  observe  considcrable  difTcrences  be- 
tween Jews  and  non-Jews.  Marricd  couples 
headed  83.2  percent  of  thc  Jewish,  but 
only  70.7  percent  of  Christian  house- 
holds.* This  was  due  in  part  to  the  lower 
mean  age  of  the  Jewish  household  heads 
which  resulted  in  fcwer  widowed  persons, 
due  in  part  to  diffcrcnt  marriagc  pattems 
among  Jews  and  their  difforent  pattems  of 
immigration,  and  in  part  to  the  diffcrcnt 
social  role  played  by  Jewish  women.  Jews 
marricd  younger  wives  far  more  often  than 
did  Christians;  and  the  mean  age  differ- 
ence  between  Jewish  spouses  was  on 
average  higher,  although  extreme  age  dif- 
ferences were  absent.'  For   cvcry    100 

*Unmarried,  common  law  couplei  played  only  a 
negligible  role.  For  both  craedt  th^  made  up  only  0.2 
percent  of  the  couplet  in  the  dty. 

'  Schmidtbauer,  1978:63-65.  The  pattem  of  eerly 
Jewiih  marriagc  mu  not  coatpkuoui.  Thcre  were  a 
fcw  bridei  of  16,  all  fron  a  Tarklth-Sephardlc  back- 
ground.  thowtng  Orleatal  ratber  thaa  Eattem  Euro- 
pean iafluenc«.  Bat  the  age  difforence  between 
spouset  was  more  apparent.  Only  8.1  percent  of  all 
Jewlth  ooupica  had  olöer  wtvet,  compared  to  21.3 
percent  of  all  Christian  couplet.  Moreorer,  the  age 
difference  between  spootei  wat  0.7  fean  emailer  for 
thete  Jewi. 


households  headed  by  widowers,  thcre 
were  119  Christian  households,  compared 
to  137  Jewish  households,  headed  by 
widows. 

Another  difference  between  Jews  and 
Christians  was  thc  distribution  of  house- 
holds headed  by  an  unmarried  person. 
Given  the  prevailing  form  of  Jewish  Im- 
migration and  thc  more  housc-bound  Situ- 
ation of  thc  unmarried  Jewish  woman,  the 
percentage  of  households  headed  by  a 
Single  unmarried  woman  was  far  lower 
among  Jews  than  it  was  among  Christians 
(4.0  and  17.8  percent,  respectively),  even 
though  thc  proportions  for  mcn  were 
about  equal  (20.0  and  18.4  percent.  re- 
spectively) (see  Table  4). 

Combining  the  main  roles  of  children, 
kin,  servants,  and  lodgers,  one  can  form  a 
set  of  16  diffcrcnt  basic  household  types, 
distinguished  by  the  presence  or  abscncc 
of  diffcrcnt  mcmbers  (see  Table  5). 

TABLE  4.  HEADSHIPS  OF  THE 
HOUSEHOLD  aEOPOLDSTADT). 


Jews 


Christians 


Couples 

Malet  Single 
Widowed 
Separated  or 
Unknown 

Femakt  Single 
Widowed 
Separated  or 
Unknown 


J^L-  J^L.  -_ÖL_  _ÄL 


OJ 


0.8 


0.9 


3.7 


(a)  Peroentagtt  of  aU  HoutehoMt. 

(b)  Percentafat  of  Houaeholdt  Not  Headed 
by  Coopie. 


( 


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t 


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382 


JOURNAL  OF  FAMILY  HISTORY 


Winter,  1980 


Winter,  1980 


JOURNAL  OF  FAMILY  HISTORY 


383 


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One  can  see  immediately  that  Jews  were 
concentrated  in  two  Household  forms  and 
that  Christians  were  morc  cvenly  distrib- 
uted.  The  two  dominant  Jewish  household 
forms  were  divided  betwecn  those  with 
only  children  and  servants  (28.0  pcrcent) 
and  those  with  children,  servants,  and 
lodgers,  but  without  non-nuclcar  kin  (27.6 
percent).  Together  they  accounted  for  55.6 
percent  of  all  households  (thc  third  most 
frequent  form  was  only  8.6  percent). 
Among  thc  Christians,  on  the  other  hand, 
five  different  household  forms  excceded  10 
percent,  totaling  63.6  percent  of  all  house- 
holds. 

There  were  considerable  ditfercnces 
between  the  areas,  especially  among 
household  types  E  and  F,  and  J  and  K,  re- 
spectively.  Household  forms  with  servants 
but  without  non-nuclear  kin  or  lodgers 
more  than  halved  from  area  I  to  area  IV. 
On  thc  other  hand,  forms  with  just  lodgers 
(no  kin  or  servants)  increased  greatly  from 
area  I  to  area  IV— thrccfold  among 
Christians  and  morc  than  elcvenfold 
among  Jews.  Thc  percentagcs  of  all  house- 
holds containing  both  servants  and  lodgers 
remained  rclativcly  constant,  as  did  the 
percentage  of  non-Jewish  households  con- 
taining neither. 

Jewish  households  in  all  arcas  were  morc 
likely  to  contain  both  servants  and  lodgers. 
Thc  percentagcs  for  thcsc  household  forms 
were  about  1.7  timcs  larger  among  Jews 
than  among  Christians,  with  no  great 
Variation  across  arcas.  This  was  diflFcrent 
for  household  forms  containing  lodgers 
but  no  servants,  as  well  as  for  those  con- 
taining neither.  Herc  thc  percentagcs  for 
Christians  were  4.3  and  3.0  timcs  higher, 
respcctivcly,  than  those  for  Jewi  In  area  L 
But  the  two  groups  grcw  tecrcasingly 
similar  clscwhcre.  Thus,  thc  percentage  of 
Christian  households  whh  neither  servants 
nor  lodgers  was  in  area  IV  only  twice  that 
of  Jewish  households.  The  percentage  for 
households  with  lodgers  but  no  seivants 
«'as  practically  equal  for  both  groups. 


HoaMhoId  Development! 

For  insight  into  thc  development  of  house- 
holds,   one   would   ideally   need   annual 
listings  over  a  pcriod  of  scveral  dccades. 
Although  such  series  exist  clscwhcre  in 
Austria,  they  do  not  in  Vienna  (cf  Mit- 
terauer  and  Sieder,  1979),  One  can,  of 
course,  use  Berkncr's  mcthod  of  analyzing 
household  structurcs  by  arranging  house- 
holds according  to  thc  age  of  the  house- 
hold head,  and  hope  for  thc  best  (Berkner, 
1972).  This  mcthod,  however,  presupposes 
that  thc   principal  characteristics  of  a 
household 's  development  remained  static 
for  at  Icast  one  gencration,  implying  that 
the  Situation  of  thc  old  household  heads 
would  be  comparablc  to  thc  Situation  of 
thc  young  household  heads  in  forty  years' 
time  (and  vice  versa,  that  thc  Situation  of 
thc  young  heads  today  would  be  roughly 
thc  same  as  the  Situation  of  those  forty 
years  cariier).  Now  there  is  some  plausi- 
bility  to  this  assumption  for  a  rural  Com- 
munity in  thc  eighteenth  Century;  but  for  a 
rapidly  growing  city  in  the  middle  of  the 
nineteenth.  this  assumption  cannot  hold. 
One  must  allow  for  divergent  tendencics. 
Probably  it  is  best  not  to  flgure  out  the 
ideal   dcvelopmental  cyclc  of  a   Jewish 
household  in  mid-nineteenth-century 
Vienna,  but  to  comparc  thc  household 
forms  of  oldcr  and  younger  Jews  and  of 
Jews  and  Christians,  respcctivcly. 

Fint,  let  us  discuss  only  Jewish  house- 
holds. Sizc  of  thc  group  of  household 
heads  and  wives — designated  herc  as  thc 
center  of  the  household — changed  as  thc 
head  grcw  oldcr  just  as  one  would  »pect  it 
would:  thc  mean  aggrcgatc  number  of 
heads  and  wives  per  household  rose  from 
1.75  for  heads  agcd  28  or  younger  or  1.89 
for  those  agcd  35  to  39,  and  then  slipped 
back  to  1.59  for  those  over  age  60.  At  thc 
same  time,  the  sex  ratio  changed  from  134 
male  to  100  fcmale  household  heads  for 
those  under  age  30, 102:100  for  those  agcd 
35  to  39.  but  73:100  for  those  over  age  60. 


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384 


JOURNAL  OF  FAMILY  HISTORY 


Winter,  1980 


Winter,  1980 


JOURNAL  OF  FAMILY  HISTORY 


385 


*i  I  j 


Single  heads  of  househoid  were  generally 
young  and  male;  widowed  heads  were 
often  old  and  female.  The  mean  number  of 
children  per  househoid  similarly  changed. 
For  heads  up  to  age  29  it  was  0.75  per 
househoid;  it  then  rose  to  3,  a  level  main- 
tained  for  15  years  after  which  it  dropped 
again  to  1.27  for  the  oldest  group  among 
househoid  heads.  Until  the  head  reached 
age  34  the  househoid  centers  were  the 
largest  portion  of  the  househoid,  while 
from  age  35  to  39  children  were  the  larg- 
est. 

The  number  of  servants  also  changed. 
The  youngest  heads  of  househoid  had  the 
smallest  number  of  servants,  usually 
female,  whose  functions  were  probably 
often  performed  by  relatives.  Shortly 
afterward,  an  interesting  diversification 
occurred.  As  households  reached  the 
maximum  number  of  children,  the  mean 
number  of  female  servants  rose,  even 
though  the  actual  number  of  households 
with  servants  dropped.  This  Situation  is 
not  difficult  to  ezplain.  As  children 
arrived,  more  helping  hands  were  neces- 
sary,  but  the  corresponding  stress  on 
financial  resources  also  grew.  The  better- 
off  took  in  more  servants  just  as  the  less 
well-off  had  to  let  them  go.  Thus,  the  pcr- 
centage  of  households  with  servants  di- 
minished  at  the  same  time  the  mean  num- 
ber of  servants  per  househoid  grew. 

This  Observation  is  valid  only  for 
domestic  servants;  for  business  employees, 
other  considerations  lead  to  quite  difFerent 
developments.  Thii  divergence  is  best  seen 
in  area  I,  where  artisans  formed  a  smaller 
group  of  the  population.  There  mean 
number  of  female  servants  per  househoid 
roae  firom  under  1  in  the  fint  age  group  to 
orer  3  in  the  44  to  49  age  group.  Mean- 
while,  all  households  with  servants 
dropped  from  80  to  60  percent  of  the  total. 
Generally  speaking,  the  number  of  female 
Mrvants  reached  a  peak  among  househokl 
heads  between  ages  40  and  44,  despite  the 
apparent  reductions  in  the  number  of  male 


servants.  As  the  age  of  the  househoid  head 
continued  to  rise,  the  mean  number  of 
small  and  simple  households  resulted  in  a 
low  average  number  of  female  servants. 

An  interesting  sidelight  appears  from 
these  data.  Given  the   importance  Jews 
traditionally  placed  on  kosher  cooking,  it 
makes  sense  that  many  who  did  not  cook 
themselves  retained  a  Jewish  cook  (or  at 
least  a  well-trained  Christian  cook,  though 
the  training  would  not  show  up  in  cur 
source).  In  fact,  practically  all  Jewesses  in 
Service  were  employed  as  cooks.  Now  list- 
ing  Jewish  and  Christian  cooks  according 
to  the  age  of  househoid  head,  one  notices 
an  interesting  phenomenon:  the  longer  the 
Jews  lived  in  Vienna,  the  less  frequcntly 
they  hired  Jewish   cooks,   and  the  less 
strictly  they  must  have  observed  the  old 
Rabbinic  code.  It  appears  that  Jews  were 
becoming  assimilated.  Among  the  young- 
est Jewish  househoid  heads,  Jewish  cooks 
predominated  over  Christian  cooks  by  100 
to  62.  In  time,  this  changed.  The  35-39  age 
group  already  had  more  Christian  than 
Jewish  Cooks,  while  the  45-49  age  group 
employed  the  former  3.8  times  more  often 
than  they  did  the  latter.  This  trend  was 
rcversed,  however,  by  a  clcar  division  be- 
tween Jews  raised   after  the  Napoleonic 
Wars  and  those  raised  before  and  during 
this  first  impact  of  secularization  among 
East   European  Jewry.    The   oldest   age 
groups  had  Jewish  cooks  far  more  often 
than  most;  their  ratio  of  Jewish  to  Chris- 
tian cooks  was  100:64. 

Again  if  we  list  the  households  accord- 
ing to  the  age  of  the  head,  lodgers  and 
relatives  shared  in  a  development  the  op* 
poaite  of  what  occurred  among  close  kin 
and  servants.  The  mean  number  of  lodgers 
wu  high  among  households  with  young 
heads;  it  decreased  for  the  mkldle  agt 
groups,  then  became  high  again  for  older 
heads.  For  the  last  age  group,  the  lodgers, 
in  fact,  constituted  the  largest  sub-group 
in  the  househoid.  The  same  tcndcncy  can 
be  observed  for  relatives,  ahhough  thf 


TABLE  6.  JEWISH  HOUSEHOLD  COMPOSITION  BY  AGE  OF  HOUSEHOLD 
HEAD. 


Age  of  Hoiachold  Head 

0-29 
30-34 
35-39 
40-44 
45-49 
50-54 
55-59 
60-»- 


Hetd/Wife         ChUdrcq 


Mean  Number  of 
Kin 


Servanu         Lodiert 


Total 


0.8 

0.2 

U 

1.0 

4.8 

1.3 

0.1 

1.4 

0.8 

5.4 

2.4 

0.1 

IJ 

0.9 

6.8 

3.0 

0.1 

1.7 

0.9 

7.5 

2.7 

0.1 

U 

1.4 

7.2 

3.0 

0.1 

1.4 

1.1 

7.3 

2.5 

0.1 

1.4 

1.5 

74 

1.3 

0.2 

1.5 

1.8 

6.3 

TABLE  7.  HOUSEHOLD  TYPES  ACCORDING  TO  AGE  OF  HOUSEHOLD 
HEAD  (PERCENT).  ^^^nyji.u 


Age  of 
Head 


— Household  Type 

A__B_   C___D__E_  J__0_H J K_J^M      N 


No. 


-     -       3 

7     —     — 


B.  Non-Jewi 


20     11 


—       2 


See  Table  5  for  bousehold  fomu.  A-R. 

number  involved  was  far  smaller.  It  is 
clear  that  lodgers  occupied  the  living  Space 
vacated  by  departing  children  or  dis- 
charged  servants,  a  development  recently 
observed  for  niral  households  (cf.  Mit- 
teraucr  and  Sieder,  1979).  It  may  be  that 
older  people  needed  the  additional  income 
provided  by  the  lodgers. 


—      1 


1    — 
-      1 


3    - 


3     18 


1     12 


11      16 
13     14 


1    — 


93 


All  these  fieatures  combined  show  that 
the  mean  househoid  size  grew  from  the 
househoid  head's  early  years  until  his  40s, 
remained  stable  to  the  end  of  his  SOs,  and 
then  dropped  off.  The  figures  for  the 
Jewish  households  in  my  sample  can  be 
found  in  Table  6. 

When  we  tum  to  the  dominant  house- 


■9 

I 


y^ 


y 


^•^ 


!j»','ifvl.J4l 


386 


JOURNAL  OF  FAMILY  HISTORY 


Winter,  1980 


hold  forms  according  to  the  age  of  the 
head,  we  observe  that  the  concentration 
of  the  households  of  the  Jews  into  two 
main  forms  did  not  result  from  the  lower 
average  age  of  the  household  head; 
diversification  did  not  necessarily  increase 
with  the  age  of  the  Jewish  head.  Jewish 
household  forms  were  even  morc  concen- 
trated  among  the  older  age  groups.  But 
among  Christians,  the  trend  seems  to  bc 
just  the  reverse.  The  main  reason  for  the 
scattering  of  Christian  households  into 
more  forms  was  the  high  proportion  of 
childless  households,  largely  the  result  of 
the  large  pcrcentage  of  spinsters  and  the 
latc  mean  age  at  marriage  among  Chris- 
tians. The  household  forms  listed  by  the 
age  of  head  are  found  in  Table  7. 

Unfortunately,  we  cannot  analyze  Single 
household  forms  in  the  different  socio- 
geographical  areas,  primarily  because  the 
numbers  are  too  small  to  be  statistically 
significant.  But  we  can  deal  with  the  in- 
cidences  of  household  roles.  There  were  no 
great  differences  in  the  frequencies  of 
children  and  relatives,  either  between 
areas  or  between  Jews  and  Christians,  be 
yond  the  fact  mentioned  earlier  that  the 
number  of  household  heads  with  children 
was  smaller  among  Christians. 

The  picture  was  different  for  servants 
and  lodgers  (see  Figure  5).  While  the  num- 
ber of  Jewish  households  with  lodgers  in- 
creased  with  the  age  of  the  head,  the 
number  of  Christian  households  with  them 
actually  decreased.  In  area  IV  particular- 
ly,  Jews  and  non-Jews  behaved  in  com- 
pletely  different  ways,  according  to  the 
graph.  It  is  not  clear  why  this  should  have 
been  the  case.  But  in  light  of  the  develop- 
ment  of  servant-keeping  households,  it 
may  indicate  that  the  older  Jews,  at  least  in 
the  poorer  areas  of  Vienna,  were  generally 
in  a  depressed  economic  State.  Thus,  they 
had  no  servants  and  eked  out  an  addi- 
tional  income  by  taking  in  lodgen,  since 
Jewish  immigrants  espedally  seemed  pre- 
ptred  to  live  in  even  more  crowded  condi- 


tions  than  other  immigrants  to  the  city.* 
On  the  other  band,  elderly  Christians  were 
more  likely  to  take  a  small  room  and  live 
alone  on  savings  and  occasional  work. 
Moreover,  unlike  the  vast  majority  of  Jews, 
a  number  of  Christians  received  an  allow- 
ance  from  the  town  or  from  a  charity, 
making  them  less  dependent  on  additional 
earnings. 

It  has  been  observed  already  that  with 
the  aging  of  the  household  head,  the  num- 
ber of  Jewish  households  with  servants  in 
area  IV  feil  sharply  and  consistently;  in 
area  III  it  remained  more  or  less  constant, 
and  in  areas  I  and  II  it  rose  generally. 
Despite  other  differences,  the  same  was 
true  for  Christian  households,  only  the  de- 
cline  in  area  IV  was  not  as  sharp  and  the 
rise  in  area  II  was  stronger  and  more  con- 
sistent.  The  V-shapcd  course  of  the  curve 
for  area  I  is  interesting,  for  this  seems  to 
be  a  clear  reflection  of  changes  in  the 
Standards  of  living  during  the  family  life 
cycle.  The  number  of  households  with  ser- 
vants declined  as  growing  children  became 
more  expensive,  nurses  became  more  dis- 
pensable, and  more  housework  was  done 
by  the  children.  When  this  period  was 
over,  the  children  left  home  or  became  less 
expensive  to  maintain,  while  salaries  in- 
creased  for  civil  servants  and  Clerks,  who 
formed  the  major  portion  of  the  popula- 
tion  of  area  I.  This  rising  Standard  of 
living  was  reflected  in  the  rising  number  of 
servants  and  in  the  rising  mean  number  of 
servants  per  household,  for  the  most 
prosperous  could  afford  to  mcet  increascd 
needs  for  labor  by  retaining  more  servants. 
In  contrast,  the  wages  of  workers,  who  in- 
variably  formed  the  biggest  part  of  the 
Population  of  area  IV,  did  not  increase 
with  the  age  of  the  household  head.  This 


•Orercrowding  in  nineteenth-century  Vtenn»  was 
lerious,  etpecUüly  among  the  working  clast.  Even  w 
Ute  u  1919,  •  private  inveitigation  reported  among 
the  poorer  Jews  in  the  LeopoMstadt  an  average  of  sii 
penons  per  room.  See  Goldhammer,  1927:  59  leq- 


I 


-J 


Winter,  1980 


JOURNAL  OF  FAMILY  HISTORY 


387 


FIGURE  5.  HOUSEHOLDS  ACCORDING  TO  AGE  OF  HEAD. 


households  with  servants 


M 


V 


\ 


♦IV 


100- 


-H — I 1 — I 1 1 1 1 1 1- 

29  34  39  U  i,9  54  59  6t  69  ^ 


10- 


lll.-' 


'MIl 


.IV 


0-1 »— t — t     t     <    t     t     < — \ — •— 

'        29  5^39'»^495^596'»69  70 

Note:  Percentages  are  running  averagei 


households  with    lodgers 


Jews 


,r-  area 


IV 


V 


.^^ 


IV 


_: Il-areo 

Ill-areo 

^^-^IV-areo 


v^/ 


\ 


V. 


'41 


-I — I — I — I — I — I — I — I — I — t- 
29  34  39  44  (,9  54  59  64  69  70 


gqe  of  head 


Christians 


II V   y- 


lIII 


'SI 


H — y—i — »-H — » — I — I — I — H- 
2,  34  3,  44  ^9  54  9j  64  «  70 


ogt  of  haad 


V  l> 


i 


^ 


fe 


*i^ 


\ 


iJ  wV  »'     ,  ult 


i 


388 


JOURNAL  OF  FAMILY  HISTORY 


Winter.  1980  ■  ^>"*«''  ^^^ 


might  be  an  additional  reason  for  the  de- 
creasing  number  of  households  with  ser- 
vants. 

Concimion 

The  overwhelming  number  of  Jewish 
Household  heads  in  1857  Vienna  were  not 
bom  there,  but  immigrated  some  time 
during  the  previous  40  years.  In  time 
Jewish  immigration  grew  even  stronger  as 
the  city's  employment  structure  enabled 
Jews  to  set  up  households  of  their  own  at  a 
youngcr  age.»  Since  the  traditional  Hast 
European  Jewish  society  bound  women 
closely  to  home,  few  Jewish  girls  immi- 
grated to  Vienna  on  their  own.  Not  only 
did  this  affect  the  percentage  of  Single  fe- 
male  household  heads,  but  it  also  altered 
the  number  of  Jewish  servants  and  the  sex 
ratio  of  the  whole  Jewish  population. 

There  were  also  other  factors  in  Jewish 
family  life.  Jewish  kinship  was  recognized 
to  a  removed  degree;  neighborhood  and 
Community  relations  in  the  East  European 
ghetto  were  strong.  Consequently,  new 
arrivals  found  at  least  temporary  shelter 
with  a  Jewish  family.  Morcover,  the 
employment  structure  of  the  Jews  resulted 
in  particular  attitudes  towards  servants, 
children  leaving  home,  and  the  family. 
Such  domestic  arrangements  received 
greater  attention  among  Jews  than  they 
did  among  Christians. 

All  this  strongly  affected  Jewish  house- 
hold forms,  which  assumed  a  distinctive 
distribution.  Pattems  of  marriage,  chil- 
dren leaving  home,  and  familial  values 
resulted  in  more  households  with  children; 
kinship  and  Community  ties  affected  the 
number  of  lodgers;  and  marriage  and  im- 
migration afÜBcted  the  part  played  by 
tingle  and  widowed  heads  of  households. 


'Vary  hm  Jewt  (mcum  utlsans'  apprentkes  or 
jooniejniMn  incapable  of  etUblkhing  a  household  of 
thtir  own  for  a  long  time.  ThU  was  far  easier  for 
lalasmen  or  ckrks,  the  occupatkmi  of  a  large  portkm 
of  the  more  ordinaiy  Jewi  in  Vienna  (cf.  Schmidt- 
baner,  1978:  63-65). 


Thus,  the  whole  fabric  of  Viennese  Jewish 
household  structure  differed  from  that  of 
Christians.  While  the  household  forms  of 
second-generation  Jews  probably  grew 
closer  to  general  Christian  household 
features,  the  great  and  constant  flux  of 
Jewish  immigrants  throughout  the  nine- 
tcenth  Century  ensured  that  more  tradi- 
tional patterns  persisted. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY 

Berkner,  Lutz 

1972  "The  Stem  Family  and  the  Developmental 
Cycle  of  Peasant  Households:  An  Eigh 
teenth-Century  Austrian  Ezample."  Ameri 
can  Historical  Review  77:396-418. 

Ehmer,  J. 
1976    Familie,  Haushalt  und  Beruf  in  Wien  in  der 
industriellen  Revolution.  Unter  besonderer 
Berücksichtigung  der  Vorstadt  Gumpen 
dorf  1857.  Unpublished  doctoral  disserta 
tion.  Unhrersity  of  Vienna. 
Gold,  H. 
1966    Geschichte  der  Juden  in  Wien.  Ein  Gedenk 

buch.  Tel-Aviv. 
1971    Geschichte  der  Juden  in  Osterreich.  Ein 
Gedenkbuch.  Tel-Aviv. 
Goldhammer,  L. 

1927    Die  Juden  Wiens.  Leipzig. 
Goldschmied,  L. 

1896    Modernes  Judentum.  Leipzig. 
Grunwakl,  M. 
1936    Vienna.  Philadelphia:  Jewiih  Community 
Series. 
Bureau  für  Statistik  der  Juden 

1906    Die  Juden  in  Österreich.  Heft  4.  Berlin 
Makr.J. 

1973  Der  Judentum  von  der  biblischen  Zeit  bb 
zur  Moderne.  München. 

Mayer,  S. 
1917    Die  Wiener  Juden.  1700-1900.  BerUn. 

Mischler.  E. 
1887    "österreichisches  Stadtebuch.  StatiftiKhe 
Berichte    der    grosseren    orterreichlKhen 
Stidte.  Wien. 
Mitterauer.  Michael  and  Reinhard  Sieder 
1979    "The  Devekypmental  Procm  of  Domeitic 
Oroupa:  Problems  of  Reconstniction  »n^ 
PoMibUities  of  InterpreUtion."  Joornal  of 
FamUy  History  4:257-284. 


JOURNAL  OF  FAMILY  HISTORY 


>Ä      389 


Poliakov,  L. 

1978    Geschichte  des  Antisemitismus.  Worms. 
Schmidtbauer,  P. 
1978    "Zur  sozialen  Situation  der  Wiener  Juden 
im  Jahre  1857."  Studia  Judaica  Austriaca. 
Vol.  VI. 
Forth-    Household   and  Family   in   Preindustrial 

Coming  Austria. 
Schwarz,  I. 

1909    Das  Wiener  Ghetto.  Leipzig. 
Statistisches  Jahrbuch 

1883-   Statistisches  Jahrbuch   der   Stadt  Wien. 

1914 


Iv« 


Cv«^ 


I 


«■.. 


,<</a 


■4 


f  » 


388 


JOURNAL  OF  FAMILY  HISTORY 


Winter.  1980  ■  ^»"*«'*'  ^^^ 


might  be  an  additional  reason  for  the  de- 
creasing  number  of  households  with  ser- 
vants. 

Conclniion 

The  overwhelming  number  of  Jewish 
household  heads  in  1857  Vienna  were  not 
bom  there,  but  immigrated  some  time 
during  the  previous  40  years.  In  time 
Jewish  Immigration  grew  even  stronger  as 
the  city's  employment  structure  enabled 
Jews  to  set  up  households  of  their  own  at  a 
younger  age.*  Since  the  traditional  East 
European  Jewish  society  bound  women 
closely  to  home,  few  Jewish  girls  immi- 
grated to  Vienna  on  their  own.  Not  only 
did  this  afTect  the  percentage  of  Single  fe- 
male  household  heads,  but  it  also  altered 
the  number  of  Jewish  servants  and  the  sex 
ratio  of  the  whole  Jewish  population. 

There  were  also  other  factors  in  Jewish 
family  life.  Jewish  kinship  was  recognized 
to  a  removed  degree;  neighborhood  and 
Community  relations  in  the  East  European 
ghctto  were  strong.  Consequently,  new 
arrivals  found  at  least  temporary  shelter 
with  a  Jewish  family.  Moreover,  the 
employment  structure  of  the  Jews  resulted 
in  particular  attitudes  towards  servants, 
children  leaving  home,  and  the  family. 
Such  domestic  arrangements  received 
greater  attention  among  Jews  than  they 
did  among  Christians. 

All  this  strongly  afTected  Jewish  house- 
hold forms,  which  assumed  a  distinctive 
distribution.  Pattems  of  marriage,  chil- 
dren leaving  home,  and  familial  values 
resulted  in  more  households  with  children; 
kinship  and  Community  ties  afTected  the 
number  of  lodgers;  and  marriage  and  Im- 
migration afTected  the  part  played  by 
Single  and  widowed  heads  of  households. 


Wcry  fcw  Jews  becamt  uüutu'  apprentkes  or 
joameynen  loc«p«blc  of  esttblbhing  •  household  of 
their  own  for  •  long  time.  This  wu  far  easler  for 
ulesmen  or  derks.  the  oocupatlons  of  a  large  portk» 
of  the  nore  ordlnaiy  lewi  In  Vienna  (cf.  Schmidt* 
bauer,  1978:  63-65). 


Thus,  the  whole  fabric  of  Viennese  Jewish 
household  structure  differed  from  that  of 
Christians.  While  the  household  forms  of 
second-generation  Jews  probably  grew 
closer  to  general  Christian  household 
features,  the  great  and  constant  flux  of 
Jewish  immigrants  throughout  the  nine- 
teenth  Century  ensured  that  more  tradi- 
tional patterns  persisted. 


BIBLIOGRAPIIY 

Berkner.  Lutz 

1972  "The  Stern  Family  and  the  Developmental 
Cycle  of  Peasant  Households:  An  Eigh 
teenth-Century  Austrian  Eiample."  Amen 
can  Historical  Review  77:396-418. 

Ehmer,  J. 
1976  Familie.  Haushalt  und  Beruf  in  Wien  in  der 
industriellen  Revolution.  Unter  besonderer 
Berücksichtigung  der  Vorstadt  Gumpcn 
dorf  1857.  Unpublished  doctoral  disserta 
tion.  Univenity  of  Vienna. 
Gold.  H. 

1966    Geschichte  der  Juden  in  Wien.  Ein  Gedenk 

buch.  Tel-Avhf. 
1971    Geschichte  der  Juden  In  Osterreich.  Ein 
Gedenkbuch.  Tel-Aviv. 
Goklhammer.  L. 

1927    Die  Juden  Wiens.  Leipzig. 
Goldschmied,  L. 

1896    Modernes  Judentum.  Leipzig. 
Grunwakl.  M. 

1936    Vienna.  PhUadelphia:  JewUh  Community 
Series. 
Bureau  for  Statistik  der  Juden 

1906    Die  Juden  in  Österreich.  Heft  4.  Berlio. 
Maier.  J. 

1973  Der  Judentum  von  der  biblischen  Zelt  bis 
zur  Moderne.  München. 

Mayer,  S. 

1917    Die  Wiener  Juden.  1700-1900.  Berlin. 
MlKhler.  E. 
1867    "Österrdchischea  Stadtebuch.  StatistiKhe 
Berichte    der    grösseren    oaterreichiKhen 
Stldte.  Wien. 
Mitterauer.  Michael  and  Reinhard  Slader 
1979    "The  Developmental  Procett  of  Domestk 
Group«:  Problems  of  Reconstructlon  »od 
PosslbUities  of  Interpretation."  Journal  of 
FaroUy  History  4:257-264. 


JOURNAL  OF  FAMILY  HISTORY 


>a     389 


Poliakov.  L. 
1978    Geschichte  des  Antisemitismus.  Worms. 

Schmidtbauer,  P. 
1978    "Zur  sozialen  Situation  der  Wiener  Juden 
im  Jahre  1857."  Studie  Judaica  Austriaca. 
Vol.  VI. 
Forth-    Household   and   Family   in   Preindustrial 

Coming  Austria. 
Schwarz.  1. 

1909    Das  Wiener  Ghetto.  Leipzig. 
Statistisches  Jahrbuch 

1883-  Statistisches  Jahrbuch   der   Stadt   Wien. 

1914 


•,,.•■,..  "yt.      ■  ■■     . 

■     '■•'■:     ■  ■-■   '■■    ''  '    •     -•-<*:-.. -fV'';V'    "  ■'      '    ' 


.' '. 


V  •      '  ji    '.  V 


.  t 


•.l.' 


>.  »! 


m 


m: 


.;..'«♦ 


|W5>?^ff  ■-'•■■ 
I,  **j-,.'»»:  .»  ..  .-,. 

_.     ■£!  .T  '-w  ' 


M3>; 


du?-"'. 


'ÄM- 


ff 

I 


i 


'■Mi.!*- 


1880. 


Illiistrirtc  Frauen-Zeitung.     VII.  Jahrg.     Berlin  l88o.     No.  15.  —  26.  Juli. 


4 


i 


S  s 


^ 


.'S: 
'-7 

r 

i 

n 


Q 

i 


4 

M- 


^ 


\ 


«~« 


f 


f  > 


I! 
il 


1 


I 


>f 


X  __,  1^,.      -r- 


^KAß^4/IU*^C'^ 


Original  21,5  cm  hoch. 


Anzug  mil  angesetzter  Schosstaille,  ßuntfarbige  Stickerei  verziert  das  dunkle  Leinengewebe. 
Gefalteter  Rock;  seitwärts  durch  Querfalten  geraffte  Tunika  mit  eingeknüpfter  Kranze.  Enge  Aermel; 
breiter  Kragen;  Spitzenrüsclie.  Capote-Hut  mit  Tiillbarbe.  —  Anzug  mit  langer  Schosstaille. 
V'alenciennes-Einsätze  garniren  die  Pliss^s  des  Rockes  und  die  gefaltete  Tunika-Draperie.  Breiter  Revers- 
Kragen  um  den  herzförmigen  Ausschnitt  der  Taille.  Enge  Aermel  mit  dreifacher  Spitzen -Manschette. 
Kunder  Strohluit  mit  breiter,  seitwärts  niedergebogener  Krempe,  Blumen  und  Handschleifen. 

—   154   — 


"m 


5H5E 


1884. 


La  grande  Toilette  des  Dames.     XVI.  Jahrg.     Berlin  1884.     No.  3.     März. 


r  V  ' 

t 


i 


1:f 


•f 


li 


r 
,    t 

•i« 

i 


Mff* 


iiH 


il 


I    : 


1    1 


il 


4 


Original  24,5  cm  hoch. 


Strassen-Anzug.    Breit  gefalteter  Rock;  Schürzen-  und  eingereihte  Panier-Draperie  mit  sehr  hoch- 
gebauschter llinterbahn.     Lange  Schnebbentaille  mit  lirausem  Latztheil  und  Revers;  breiter  offener  Steh- 
kragen.    Glatte  enge  Aermel  mit  schmalen  Aufschlägen.     Kleiner  Capote-Hut  aus  Chenille   mit  Sammet- 

blumen  garnirt;   Kinnschleife  aus  breitem  Bande. 


—      156      — 


The  Queen,  the  Lady 's  Newspaper  and  Court  Chronicle.     Vol;  LXXXV. 

London   1889.     Nr.  2210.     May  4. 


Original  19  cm  hoch. 


Englische  Hof t rächt.     Ausgeschnittene  Schnebbentaille  aus  blauem  Brocat  mit  sehr  kurzen  Puflf- 
ärmeln;  glatter  Brocat-Rock  mit  silbergestickten  Panneaux  aus  Sammet.    Cour-Schleppe  aus  weissem  Atlas 
mit  eingewirkten  Disteln.    Schleier  und  Federn  im  hochfrisirten  Haar.    Weisses  Haidekraut  als  Schmuck. 

Lange  Handschuhe. 

—   157  — 


<W  .•-  ..^B*»»-.-«"^ 


Original  19  cm  hoch. 


Anzug  m.t  Ueberkleid.    Rock  mit  kurzer  Schleppe,  der  glatten  Taille  verstürzt  angesetzt.    Pelerinen- 
Kragen   mrt  gestickter  Passe  und   hohem    Stehkragen.     Lange,  vom    Ellbogen   anschliessende  Aermel.  - 

Anzug  m.t  e.ngereil,ter  Taille.    Glatter  Rock,  am  Saum  mit  voller  Spitzenrüsche  besetzt.    Eingereihte 
Tadle  m,t   Latztheil   und   Schärpe;    Halsrüsche.     Oben   hoch    gebauschte,    unten    enge,    über   die   Hand 

fallende  Aermel. 


n 


ZSl^S 


Sin 


A/f^r/ZM    G-uTTm fi-A/t^    CUpll€^Tj^c^aI 


/^^cm^Bs 


f 


:'    ;*fw^i* Hit 


iIi^vTT'r 


•fPfseiliW^r'^t'Wi 


.!J«(«tl||m«»«.-i''ti''l-tt,-MMir.c(i)fl!t,4»^«^^i^ 


=^ 


3 


H 


Jewish  Women 
in  Time  and  Torah 


by 
Eliezer  Berkovits 


KTAV  PUBLISHING  HOUSE,  INC. 

HOBOKEN.  NEW  JERSEY 
1990 


♦^^*fl«**-  %,i^  i  Mitft^  >.1^vtK,^•y,'l*«■;  -Z  v-,u.' 


/  Jewish  Women  in  Time  and  Torah 
5.  Conclusions 

Glossary 

Index 


128 


135 


139 


Foreword 

It  is  not  our  Intention  in  this  work  to  plead  the  cause  of  Jewish 
women  against  the  numerous  Jewish  laws  that  today  are  rightly 
considered  unfair  or  even  unjust;  nor  do  we  intend  to  defend 
Judaism  against  criticism  for  its  treatment  of  women.  The  aim 
is  neither  to  be  critical  nor  to  be  apologetic;  but  on  the  basis  of 
our  understanding  to  unravel  the  truth,  from  the  aggadic  and 
halakhic  sources,  of  some  of  the  fundamental  principles  of 
Judaism. 

If  we  seek  truth  and  understanding,  we  must  realize  that 
because  we  are  living  in  a  different  era,  we  may  not  be  in  a 
Position  to  evaluate  the  significance  of  the  mores  and  laws  that 
appear  in  the  traditional  Jewish  sources.  The  changes  since 
biblical  and  talmudic  times  have  been  radical.  Women  and  men 
today  are  not  the  same  as  the  women  and  men  who  lived, 
worked,  planned,  and  hoped  many  centuries  ago.  Conditions  of 
life,  reality,  social  order,  aspirations,  and  goals  have  changed 
fundamentally.  If  we  criticize,  we  may  not  know  what  we 
criticize;  if  we  defend,  we  may  have  no  idea  what  we  defend. 

However,  awareness  of  the  changes  over  time  is  not  enough. 
One  must  also  have  an  adequate  understanding  of  the  System  of 
Judaism  as  it  treats  the  time-conditioned  reality  of  the  life  of  the 
people. 

There  were  essentially  three  distinct  phases  in  the  evolving 
Status  of  Jewish  women.  The  first  phase  was  Torah-tolerated 
rather  than  Torah-established  or  Torah-taught.  It  derived  from 
the  mores,  conditions,  and  circumstances  of  an  early  age,  and 
was  not  essentially  different  from  what  we  find  in  other  societies 
in  the  same  stage  of  development.  Women's  Status  in  this  era 
was  nonpersonal.  While  it  could  not  be  changed  overnight  by 
legislation,  certain  limited  changes  were  effected  to  indicate  the 

1 


*tit*rtt4^mi*f»»rnwv«»t«ktwr*»«%«it^rf*t4-,4iJ4^.h^^ 


-Harf*r»-  «r.*-     5 


2  /  Jewish  Women  in  Time  and  Torah 

direction  of  the  kind  of  development  the  Torah  desired.  The 
second  phase  estaWished  woman's  personal  Status.  And  finally. 

in  our  discussion  of  ihe  ihird  phfise.  ue  atiempl  lo  ckriA'  some 


^•*  ~^uZ  •'.^.^>: 


i"  »M  C*    >jL 


Jih^. 


■  fl—    .  I  .      ■  y       ^ 


■«  '  t: 


P- 


•tc^i  Tör  ^ic  prc^i^^ni;  ir.^r^tS  er  j^^ccicu.. 


Most  ofihc  mareriaJ  in  rhe  iaü  secr/on  of  rhe  founh  chapicr 
is  dealt  with  in  chapter  2  under  **Halakhic  Innovations/'  How- 
ever,  because  of  the  importance  of  the  subject  for  the  contem- 
porary  Situation,  we  present  it  apart  from  the  interpretive  con- 
text  of  the  discussion. 


( ( 


Charter  i 
WOMEN  ARE  A  PEOPLE  BY  THEMSELVES" 

(Shabbat  62a) 


THE  NONPERSONAL  STATUS 

Before  entering  into  a  discussion  of  specific  laws  and  mores,  it 
will  be  advisable  to  examine  the  Status  that  women  had  in  the 
early  centuries  of  Jewish  antiquity  and  the  centuries  immedi- 
ately  following.  How  were  they  seen  and  evaluated?  One  of  the 
earliest  Statements  about  women  is  found  in  the  words  of  the 
prophet  Jeremiah:  'The  mighty  men  of  Babylon  stopped  waging 
war.  They  sit  in  fortresses.  Their  strength  has  left  them.  They 
have  become  like  women."'  In  other  words,  women  are  not  just 
the   weaker  sex;  they  are  weak.  The  consequences  of  this 
opinion  are  evident  in  the  midrashic  interpretation  of  several 
bibh'cal  verses.  One  of  the  most  reveahng  is  based  on  two  words 
in  the  Book  of  Genesis,  where  we  are  told  about  Lamech:  ''And 
he  begat  a  son."^  The  Midrash  relates  the  Hebrew  ben,  ''son,'' 
to  the  verb  hanah,  which  means  "to  build.''  And  the  explana- 
tion  given  is:  "A  son  from  whom  the  world  was  buih.''  The  son, 
of  course,  was  Noah,  who  rebuih  the  world  after  the  flood,  the 
idea  being  that  sons,  i.e.,  men,  are  the  world-builders.^  It  may 
very  well  be  that  in  antiquity  and  even  centuries  later,  condi- 
tions  were  such  that  women,  because  of  their  nature,  were  not 
capable  of  "world  building."  However,  the  Situation  thus  estab- 
lished  had  most  serious  results  for  the  treatment  that  women 
received  in  society.  World-builders  are,  of  course,  also  family- 
builders,  and  that  is  why  a  family  is  calied  after  the  father  and 
not  after  the  mother.  The  talmudic  formulation  is:  "The  father's 


lUlUfauIl  -^Aiiui 


,r:tH»i^;;^H'^^;^"^^i^^'^ *^- •*^n?^ri>x»?f<W*>"'' <H«»* .w^.■^>y»^*M>-^4^li^»rV*.^^.  .:„,^i^^^^^-  .  xv.*^'^.»^  , 


•Ä  Women  in  Time  and  Torah 


w4 


,--  1 


alled  a  family;  the  mothcr's  family  is  not  calied  a 
amily."  The  Talmud  bases  this  determination  on  a  verse  at  the 
beginning  of  the  Book  of  Numbers,  where  Moses  is  asked  by 
God  to  count  the  heads  of  the  Community  of  the  children  of 
Israel  '^according  to  their  families,  their  fathers'  houses/''* 
Obviously,  this  is  the  origin  of  the  widespread  expression  ''my 
father's  house''  (note  that  there  is  no  comparable  ''my  mother's 
house").  The  interpretation  justifies  certain  aspects  of  the  inher- 
itance  law  which  are  rather  discriminatory  against  the  women 

in  the  family. 

Another  most  revealing  Statement  about  the  treatment  that 
women  received  in  early  Jewish  society  is  found  in  a  mishnah: 
'The  man  has  precedence  over  (he  woman  to  be  maintained/'^ 
This  means  that  if  both  are  in  danger  of  their  lives,  e.g.,  if  both 
are  in  equal  danger  of  drowning,  the  man  is  to  be  saved  first. 
Maimonides  explains  that  since  (he  man  is  obligated  to  observe 
more  mitzvot  (divine  commandmcnts)  than  the  woman,  his  lifc 
is  of  greater  sanctity  than  the  woman's.^  It  is  not  our  intention 
to  enter  into  a  discussion  of  the  reasons  for  the  exemption  of 
women  from  the  Obligation  to  observe  mitzvot  aseh  she-lui- 
zenuin  ^eramcih,  commandmen(s  whose  observance  is  dcpcnd- 
ent  on  certain  times  of  the  day  or  the  season.  Aside  from  that, 
this  law  means  that  the  life  of  a  woman  is  less  valuable  than  that 
of  a  man  and,  therefore,  is  morc  easily  dispensed  with.  Not  only 
does  woman,  at  this  stage,  not  have  equal  Status  with  man  in 
this  male-built  society,  but  she  is  rcally  outside  of  it. 

Suffice  it  to  cite  just  two  halakhic  discussions  that  have  a 
bearing  on  this  subject.  Women  are  obligated  to  say  Birkut  lia- 
Mazon  (grace  after  meals).  The  Talmud  asks,  however,  whether 
this  Obligation  is  of  biblical  origin  or  is  based  on  a  rabbinic 
innovation.  The  question  requires  an  explanation:  Why  should 
it  be  a  rabbinical  commandment?  The  Bible  says  clearly:  ''And 
you  shall  eat  and  be  satisfied,  and  you  shall  bless  the  Eternal 
One,  your  God.''^  Surely  this  is  not  an  Obligation  dependent  on 
the  time  of  day.  Why  should  women  not  be  obligated  to  recite 
grace  as  a  biblical  mitzvah?  The  reasön  this  question  arises  is 


* 'Women  Are  a  People  by  Themselves"  I  5 

explained  in  the  commentaries  of  Rashi  and  Tosafot.  According 
to  Rashi,  the  command  to  say  grace  does  not  seem  to  apply  to 
women  because  after  the  words  "and  you  shall  bless  the  Eternal 
One,  your  God"  the  Bible  continues:  "for  the  good  land  that 
He  gave  you,"  and  as  we  know,  the  land  was  distributed  among 
the  male  members  of  the  tribes  and  women  did  not  receive  a 
share  in  it.  How  can  they  thank  God  for  the  "good  land"  if  it 
was  given  to  the  men  and  not  to  them? 

Tosafot  does  not  agree  with  this  explanation.  Maintaining  that 
the  question  is  raised  because  in  the  Birkat  ha-Mazon  we  thank 
God  "for  the  covenant  that  You  have  sealed  in  our  flesh  [i.e., 
circumcision]  and  Your  Torah  that  You  have  taught  us,"  it  notes 
that  women  are  neither  circumcised  nor  obligated  to  study 
Torah.  In  other  words,  they  were  not  given  the  covenant  and 
have  not  received  the  Torah.* 

One  cannot  help  wondering  how  such  ideas  could  have  en- 
tered the  minds  of  the  talmudic  authorities  who  made  these 
Statements!  Is  it  really  conceivable  that  since  the  sign  of  the 
covenant  was  the  circumcision,  the  covenant  was  not  concluded 
with  all  Israel,  but  only  with  its  male  members!  Or  is  one 
supposed  to  imagine  that  since  women  were  not  obligated  to 
study  Torah,  therefore  the  Torah  was  given  only  to  the  men  and 
not  to  the  Jewish  people  in  its  entirety!  Would  not  the  study  of 
the  Torah  and  the  keeping  of  its  commandments  and  listening  to 
its  teaching  shape,  indeed  create,  the  Jewish  people  in  its 
entirety!  And  as  for  Rashi's  explanation,  is  it  conceivable  that 
the  land,  having  been  distributed  among  the  male  members,  was 
not  given  as  a  divine  blessing  to  the  entire  Jewish  people?  Do 
the  numerous  biblical  promises  that  God  will  bring  the  children 
of  Israel  to  a  "land  flowing  with  milk  and  honey"  apply  only  to 
the  male  children  but  not  to  the  female?  Thank  God,  the 
woman's  Obligation  to  say  grace,  because  of  the  biblical  com- 
mand, was  accepted  as  halakhah,  as  the  valid  law.  And  yet  the 
very  idea  why  women  ought  to  be  excluded  from  the  biblical 
command  seems  to  be  absurd. 

Another  aspect  of  the  halakhic  discussion  of  this  subject  may 


1 

r, 


J 


»lii'l-l.V^'y*«<tW>«4«4*t»^*t»«4fc»\lAy|A<^i{W'.lfcJttt>i 


f'.'^m'^fff^^-'^  '^-'^.  e.js*'*^'**'^-^?  ■'  ■ 


1 1  - 1 ' 


6  /  Je»'Ash  Women  in  Time  and  Tor  an 

enlighten  us.  What  real  difference  does  it  make  whether  women 
have  a  biblical  or  only  a  rabbinic  Obligation  to  say  grace  after  a 
meal?  Whatever  the  case  may  be,  they  are  required  to  do  it.  The 
explanation  given  is  based  on  the  generally  vahd  halakhic  prin- 
ciple  that  one  person  may  act  for  someone  eise  to  fulfill  (certain) 
commandments  if  they  are  both  under  the  same  Obligation. 
Thus,  if  a  husband  is  unable  to  say  grace,  his  wife  can  fulfill  the 
commandment  for  him  (assuming  he  was  present  and  listening). 
But  since  the  husband  is  obligatcd  by  the  biblical  command,  his 
wife  can  only  act  for  him  if  her  Obligation  is  also  of  biblical 
quality.  However,  if  her  Obligation  is  only  by  rabbinic  institu- 
tion,  she  cannot  function  for  her  husband,  since  biblically  she  is 
not  under  any  Obligation.  But  now  the  question  arises:  In  the 
case  of  Birkat  ha-Mazon,  an  exception  to  the  generally  valid 
principle  exists.  The  biblical  Obligation  to  say  grace  is  depend- 
ent  on  one's  having  eaten  a  certain  minimum  amount  of  food. 
Strangely  enough,  according  to  the  din,  if  a  person  has  eaten 
less  than  the  prescribed  amount,  his  Obligation  is  now  reduced 
to  the  rabbinical  level.  Nevertheless,  he  may  still  recite  the 
blessing  for  another  man  who  has  partaken  of  the  required 
amount  of  food  that  determines  his  Obligation  by  biblical  com- 
mand. 

A  further  question  is  now  justified:  Even  if  a  woman's  grace 
Obligation  is  only  rabbinical,  why  should  a  wife  not  be  able  to 
recite  the  blessings  after  the  meal,  cvcn  if  her  husband's  Obliga- 
tion is  of  biblical  force?  And  now  comes  the  quite  surprising 
and  hardly  believable  explanation.  A  man,  in  relation  to  another 
man,  has  to  act  in  accordance  with  the  principle  that  kol  Yisrael 
arevin  zeh  ba-zeh  C'all  Israel  are  responsible  for  one  another").^ 
Since  man  has  the  additional  Obligation  to  assist  another  man  to 
fulfill  his  biblical  duty,  he  can  function  for  another  man  even  if, 
as  in  the  case  like  this,  his  own  Obligation  to  say  grace  is  only 

rabbinical. 

Not  so  a  woman,  however.  The  principle  that  **all  Israel  are 
responsible  for  each  other"  does  not  apply  to  women.'« 
Astounding!  Are  women  really  not  included  in  kol  Yisrael  ("all 


** Women  Are  a  People  by  Themse Ives"  I  7 

Israel* ')?  Is  it  even  imaginable  that  Jewish  women  are  not  under 
the  Obligation  of  mutual  Jewish  responsibility!  How  is  it  to  be 
understood?  The  examples  we  have  discussed  seem  to  indicate 
that  women  were  indeed  not  included  as  active  participants  in 
the  Society  of  "world-builders/'  The  highest  respect  that  is 
expressed  for  the  role  of  women  in  society  at  that  time  is  found 
in  the  words  that  Rav  addressed  to  Rabbi  Hiyya:  "In  what  lies 
the  merit  of  women?  In  bringing  their  children  to  the  synagogue 
[where  they  used  to  study]  and  in  letting  their  husbands  go  to 
the  bet  hamidrash  [the  house  of  higher  Torah  study]  and  in 
waiting  up  for  them  to  return  home  from  the  bet  hamidrash, "'^^ 
Certainly,  this  function  of  women  deserves  to  be  appreciated. 
In  essence  it  means  that  the  task  of  women  was  to  assist,  to 
help  the  "world-builders.**  In  other  words,  their  task  was  to 
serve. 

MARRIAGE  AND  DIVORCE 

Nothing  gives  clearer  expression  to  the  servile  responsibility  of 
women  than  the  original  laws  of  marriage  and  divorce.  The 
principle  upon  which  marriage  was  based  is  clearly  formulated 
by  Maimonides,  who  writes:  ''When  a  man  espouses  a  wife, 
what  he  says  to  her  should  be  clearly  understood  to  mean  that 
he  is  purchasing  the  woman  and  not  that  she  conveys  herseif  to 
him  as  his  possession.*'»^  The  expression  he  uses  is  related  to  a 
phrase  in  the  first  mishnah  in  Tk-actate  Kiddushin,  which  begins 
with  the  words  ha-ishah  nikneit,  "the  woman  is  bought/*  Ac- 
cording to  the  talmudic  interpretation,  the  law  derives  from  the 
biblical  phrase  *'when  a  man  takes  a  wife."'^  In  this  context  'Uo 
take**  means  to  acquire  possession.  Otherwise,  the  word  mika- 
desh,  literally  meaning  "to  sanctify,''  is  used.  By  the  act  of 
kiddushin  a  man  "separates''  a  woman  from  all  other  men  unto 
himself.  To  this  day,  the  marriage  formula  under  the  huppah  is: 
Harei  at  mekudeshet  li,  '*you  are  sanctified/separated  for  me.'' 
The  meaning  is  the  same:  "You  belong  to  me,  because  I  am 
acquiring  you."  However,  ''possession''  here  does  not  connote 


\ 


\vm\  .i[iinii  Tii,! Hl  iHüHiiiifii  I     .  .K!""  -i..."  ,    ?'^'  "''^jt' ;'  -'^ '** ' Ht  >|% '^< 


8  /  Jewish  Warnen  in  Time  and  Tomh 

property  as  such,  which  applies  only  to  slaves,'^  but  means  that 
the  husband  is  buying  the  woman*s  Services.  Her  main  Obliga- 
tion is  to  bear  his  children.  The  commandment  **Be  fruitful  and 
multiply''  was  given  only  to  men,  not  to  women.  Thus  a  man 
has  to  provide  himself  with  a  wife  in  order  to  fulfill  the  com- 
mandment. Since  it  is  the  husband  who  enacts  the  marriage,  by 
acquiring  the  woman's  Services  and  thus  making  her  his  wife, 
only  the  husband  can  terminale  Ihe  marriage.  According  to  the 
law,  no  divorce  may  take  place  against  the  will  of  the  husband. 
On  the  other  hand,  he  may  divorce  his  wife  whenever  it  pleases 
him  to  do  so.  According  to  Rabbi  Akiva,  divorce  is  justified  even 
on  such  frivolous  grounds  as  the  husband's  finding  another 
woman  more  pleasing  to  him  than  his  wife.'^ 

The  legal  form  of  marriage  that  hands  the  wife  over  into  the 
power  of  her  husband  was  in  itself  inadequate  to  serve  as  the 
foundation  of  marriage.  The  husband  had  to  have  some  respon- 
sibilities  toward  his  wife.  Three  basic  ones  are  stated  in  the 
Bible:  she*erah,  kesutah,  ve-onatah,  i.e.,  the  husband  is  re- 
quired  to  provide  his  wife  with  food,  clothing,  household  goods, 
and  a  place  to  live  in.  Finally,  he  is  also  commanded  not  to 
withhold  from  her  the  satisfaction  of  the  natural  sexual  needs  of 
a  normal  woman. 

Beyond  this,  it  is  difficult  to  find  in  the  Torah  any  other 
Obligation  of  the  husband  toward  his  wife.  We  have  the  institu- 
tion  of  the  ketuhah  (marriage  contract).  But  whether  the  ketii- 
bah  is  biblically  prescribed  or  is  one  of  the  later  takkanot 
hakhamim  (rabbinical  rulings)  remains  an  unresolved  issue  in 
the  Talmud  and  the  major  commentaries.'^  Maimonides  states 
unambiguously:  **It  was  the  scholars  [hakhamim]  who  estab- 
lished  the  ketuhah  for  the  wife,  so  that  it  would  not  be  easy  for 
the  husband  to  send  her  away."'^  The  ketuhah  states  the  hus- 
band*s  contractual  Obligation  to  pay  a  certain  sum  of  money  to 
his  wife  if  he  divorces  her.  The  sum  itself  was  rabbinically 
prescribed  (i.e.,  200  zuz  or  its  equivalent),  but  the  bride's 
relatives  were  free,  before  the  marriage,  to  negotiate  a  more 


*'WomenAre  a  People  hy  Themselves**  I  9 

adequate  compensation  for  the  wife  in  case  of  divorce.  The 
contract  became  legally  binding  for  both  sides. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  wife's  responsibilities  toward  her 
husband  were  all  based  on  takkanot  hakhamim  (rabbinical  rul- 
ings). Since  the  husband  had  to  provide  his  wife  with  her  füll 
sustenance,  she  was  required  to  render  certain  domestic  Serv- 
ices to  him.  According  to  the  Mishnah:  "These  are  the  Services 
that  a  wife  has  to  perform  for  her  husband:  grind,  bake,  wash, 
Cook,  nurse  her  child,  prepare  the  bed  for  him,  and  work  in 
wool.''  (She  may  be  released  from  these  duties  in  proportion  to 
the  number  of  maid-slaves  that  she  brings  with  her  into  mar- 
riage.)'^ 

It  is  important  to  note  why  such  heavy  duties  were  imposed 
upon  the  wife.  According  to  the  talmudic  sources,  this  was  done 
in  Order  to  compensate  the  husband,  in  a  sense,  for  the  expense 
of  providing  daily  sustenance  for  her.  Even  though  this  was 
required  under  biblical  law,  the  talmudic  teachers  realized  that 
it  was  a  rather  one-sided  Obligation.  It  could  give  the  marriage 
an  ethically  questionable  character;  emphasizing  the  bought 
character  of  the  wife  for  the  purpose  of  enabling  the  husband  to 
fulfill  the  mitzvah  of  begetting  children.  On  the  other  hand,  a 
mutuality  of  Obligation  would  introduce  a  personal  dement  into 
the  marriage.  The  wife  would  serve  her  husband  in  order  to 
make  herseif  beloved  by  him:  kedei  shetekhabev  et  atzmah  al 

ba'alah. 

The  idea  that  the  wife  made  herseif  beloved  by  her  husband 
through  the  Services  she  rendered  him  had  far-reaching  conse- 
quences.  According  to  the  mishnah  quoted  above,  one  of  the 
wife*s  required  duties  was  '*to  prepare  the  bed  for  him/'  In 
another  talmudic  passage,  Rabbi  Isaac  elaborates  that  according 
to  rabbinical  ruie,  the  wife  is  freed  from  the  bürden  of  this  labor 
in  direct  proportion  to  the  number  of  maid-servants  (i.e.,  slaves) 
she  brings  with  her  into  the  marriage.  If  she  brings  four  servants 
with  her,  she  may  sit  in  a  katedra  (a  chair  of  dignified  comfort). 
There  is  one  kind  of  service  from  which  she  is  not  released, 
however.  Maimonides  quotes  Rabbi  Isaac  as  follows:  *Thus, 


•1 


->.« 


.-;-i; 


ir''-»>^n' 


10  /  Jewish  Women  in  Time  and  Torah 

every  wife  washes  the  face,  hands,  and  feet  of  her  husband; 
prepares  for  him  the  cup  of  wine  [it  was  customary  to  mix  wine 
with  a  measure  of  water];  prepares  the  bed  for  him;  Stands 
before  him  and  waits  on  him,  for  instance  by  handing  him  water, 
handing  him  Utensils,  er  taking  them  from  before  him — and 
similar  things/'^o  R^shi  explains:  ''The  scholars  gave  her  this 
advice  to  establish  in  Israel  Ihat  she  would  be  beloved  by  her 
husband.  However,  only  in  the  case  of  a  wife  who,  because  of 
the  number  of  her  maid-servants  is  free  from  all  other  work,  do 
the  sages  advise  [her]  to  continne  with  these  Services. ''2'  In 
other  cases,  she  has  to  render  these  Services  to  her  husband  as 
part  of  her  duties,  not  merely  as  a  wise,  rabbinically  recom- 
mended  policy.  Another  passagc  in  Maimonides  may  be  looked 
upon  as  the  ultimate  formulation  of  a  wife's  duties  toward  her 
husband,  and  at  the  same  time  as  a  clear  indication  of  the  Status 
of  women:  ''Thus  they  [the  scholars]  commanded  that  the  wife 
should  honor  her  husband  beyond  any  limit,  and  his  fear  should 
be  over  her,  and  everything  she  does  should  be  according  to  his 
demands.  He  should  be  in  her  eyes  like  a  prince  or  a  king  who 
behaves  in  accordance  with  his  heart's  desires.  She  should 
remove  everything  that  is  hatefui  to  him,  etc. "22  According  to 
the  commentaries,  this  is  based  on  the  talmudic  passage  in 
which  a  son  raises  the  question:  *'If  my  father  and  my  mother 
each  ask  me  to  bring  them  a  glass  of  water,  to  whom  should  I 
bring  the  water  first?''  The  answer  is:  *'Serve  your  father  first, 
for  you  and  your  mother  are  both  required  to  honor  him.*'^^ 
Maimonides'  formulation  is  an  elaboration  of  what  is  meant  by 
the  kavod  (honor)  due  to  the  hustxmd.  It  is  an  elaboration  that 
was  included  in  the  wife*s  duties  toward  her  husband.  A  sum- 
mary  of  all  these  Services  and  duties  can  be  found  in  a  midrashic 
Statement:  ''Only  a  wife  who  fulfills  the  will  of  her  husband  is 
proper,  worthy."24  One  wonders  whether  the  purpose  of  such 
far-reaching  Service  and  honor  is  only  to  make  the  wife  more 
beloved  by  her  husband;  is  it  not  also  the  necessary  conse- 
quence  of  her  inferior,  serving  Status? 
At  this  phase  in  the  developnient  of  the  laws  of  marriage. 


1 1 


Women  Are  a  People  by  Themselves"  I  1 1 


making  oneself  beloved  falls  essentially,  and  one-sidedly,  upon 
the  wife.  Of  course,  corresponding  to  the  responsibilities  of  the 
wife,  the  husband  has  to  reciprocate.  But  how  far  that  is  from 
personalizing  the  marriage  is  easily  seen  in  the  light  of  the 
qualiflcations  that  some  of  these  duties  received.  For  instance, 
it  was  the  husband's  duty  to  provide  medical  care  for  his  wife  if 
she  feil  ill,  but  his  responsibility  had  its  limits.  "If  he  sees  that 
the  sickness  is  a  long-lasting  one  and  he  would  lose  much 
money,  he  may  say  to  her:  'Here  is  your  ketubah.  Heal  yourself 
with  its  value  or  eise  I  divorce  you.'  And  he  may  go.'*  Adds 
Maimonides:  "According  to  the  law,  the  husband  can  do  so,  but 
it  is  not  proper  behavior  [derekh  eretz]  to  act  in  this  manner.  "25 
There  were  several  similar  rulings.  A  husband  is  required  to 
redeem  his  wife  if  she  is  taken  prisoner  or  kidnapped,  but  if  the 
ransom  demanded  for  her  release  is  more  than  "her  value*' 
compared  to  other  prisoners,  he  need  not  redeem  her.  On  the 
other  hand,  if  the  generally  accepted  ransom  is  far  above  the 
worth  of  her  ketubah,  he  cannot  say:  "I  am  divorcing  her.  Here 
is  her  ketubah,  let  her  go  and  redeem  herseif."  In  such  a  case 
he  is  compelied  to  redeem  her,  even  if  the  sum  demanded  is  as 
much  as  ten  times  the  value  of  her  ketubah.  And  even  if  the 
ransom  demanded  represents  everything  he  possesses.  How- 
ever, if  the  husband  redeems  his  wife  as  prescribed  and  she  falls 
into  captivity  a  second  time,  he  may  then,  if  he  wishes,  divorce 
her  and  pay  her  the  value  of  her  ketubah,  and  it  is  up  to  her  to 
redeem  herseif. ^^ 

Laws  of  this  kind  show  that  the  Services  the  wife  has  to 
render  in  order  to  make  herseif  beloved  by  her  husband,  thus 
introducing  a  personal  dement  into  the  utterly  impersonal  mar- 
riage arrangements,  are  quite  one-sided.  The  laws  we  have  cited 
prove  that  the  personal  dement,  intimacy,  is  still  lacking  in  this 
kind  of  marriage.  » 

It  could  not  have  been  otherwise,  because  of  the  wife's 
complete  dependence  on  her  husband.  Her  Obligation  to  do  all 
the  work  we  have  indicated  was  extended  into  the  general 
principle  that  her  earnings  belonged  to  her  husband.  Beyond 


A 
■*  I 

i 

i 


.Hif^t1fll»«4«l«#»»<H»tW*lf«*t*'*''l*MM^  4:^  «•■  ^  t  Jf  „ft  ^  •.» 


12  /  Jewisli  Warnen  in  Time  and  Torali 

that,  even  what  she  might  happen  to  find  became  his  posses- 
sion.-'  The  rationale  for  ihis  rulinc  is  similar  lo  the  one  that 


XiO«*e*wr.  A;r«i«IS  Lo  lO  ä. 


i . .  ^"^Q.  w  ^wcr*  ^i  ijijwi.^ie. 


v%c^c'»eri  wue 


acquires  is  acquired  by  her  husband."^  In  keeping  vvith  these 
rules,  the  law  o(  inheritance  follows  logically.  Accordingly,  if 
the  wife  dies,  the  husband  inheriis  her  property  (i.e.,  property 
that  she  brought  into  the  marriage  or  received  after  the  marriage 
as  a  gift  or  inheritance);  but  if  he  dies,  she  does  not  inherit  him. 
(We  need  not  enter  into  the  discussion  of  whether  this  is  a 
biblical  ruie  or  a  later  rabbinical  arrangement.)^^ 

According  to  the  Talmud,  the  Torah  was  aware  of  the  wife's 
almost  total  dependence  on  her  husband.  The  thought  is  based 
on  the  verse  Leviticus  19:2,  *'One  should  fear  one's  mother  and 
father.*'  In  the  Hebrew  of  this  verse,  *'one"  is  expressed  by  the 
Word  ish,  which  means  **a  man.''  Is  a  woman,  then,  not  obliged 
'*to  fear''  her  parents?  The  question  is  answered  by  the  gram- 
matical  form  of  the  word  '*should  fear,"  which  in  the  Hebrew 
original  is  tirau,  the  plural.  Why?  Obviously,  because  the  Torah 
wishes  to  say:  **Both  of  you,  man  and  woman,  should  fear  your 
parents."  Why  then,  asks  the  Talmud,  does  the  verse  begin  with 
the  Singular  ish?  It  answers:  The  emphasis  is  on  the  man 
because  he  has  the  power  to  do  it,  and  not  on  the  woman, 
because  she  is  under  the  authority  of  others.  Explains  Rashi: 
**He  has  the  power  because  no  one  may  object  to  his  intcntion; 
but  a  husband  may  prevent  his  wife  from  doing  what  is  de- 
manded  of  her."^® 

One  may,  of  course,  ask  the  question:  if  a  wife  is  required  to 
serve  her  husband,  is  she  not  much  different  from  a  slave?  The 
very  phrase  '*what  a  woman  acquires  belongs  to  her  husband" 
is  exactiy  the  same  as  that  asscrted  about  a  slave:  **What  a 
slave  acquires  belongs  to  his  master."  (It  also  appears  in  the 
formulation:  *'A  slave  cannot  acquire  anything  without  his 
master,  a  woman  cannot  acquire  anything  without  her  hus- 
band"; i.e.,  in  both  cases,  the  acquisition  is  the  masler's.) 


**Women  Are  a  People  hy  Thcmselves"  I  13 

Indeed,  Rashi  explains  a  discussion  in  the  Talmud  on  the  basis 
of  the  identity  of  these  phrases:  "For  a  wife  is  like  a  slave,  for 
her  husband  possesses  the  work  of  her  hands  and  whatever  she 
may  find,  just  as  the  master  of  a  slave  has  the  same  right  to  the 
acquisition  by  a  slave."  It  is  worth  noting  that  the  Talmud  was 
fully  aware  of  the  similarity  between  the  positions  of  the  slave 
and  the  wife. 

In  the  introductory  part  of  the  morning  service  a  male  person 
says  blessings.  In  one  he  thanks  God  for  not  making  him  a 
slave;  in  the  other  for  not  making  him  a  woman.  The  question 
arises:  What  need  is  there  for  the  first  blessing,  on  not  having 
been  created  a  slave,  since  the  same  gratitude  is  expressed  in 
the  second  blessing  when  one  thanks  God  for  not  having  made 
one  a  woman.  Explains  Rashi:  **For  the  wife  serves  her  husband 
like  a  maid-servant,  like  a  slave  his  master."  The  answer  does 
not  change  much  in  the  wife's  Status,  though  he  also  says: 
*'Nevertheless,  the  Status  of  a  slave  is  still  somewhat  lower."^^ 

SOCIAL  EXCLUSION 

No  wonder  that  such  evaluation  of  women's  character  has  led 
to  their  social  exciusion  in  a  two-fold  sense:  neither  their  intel- 
ligence  nor  their  character  was  trusted.  According  to  the  Mid- 
rash,  woman's  lack  of  intelligence  is  even  asserted  in  the  Torah. 
This  is  derived  from  the  passage  in  Exodus  where  Moses  is  told 
how  to  communicate  the  teaching  to  the  Jewish  people.  The 
text  reads:  "Thus  shall  you  speak  to  the  house  of  Jacob  and  teil 
the  children  of  Israel. "^^  Undoubtedly  there  is  a  differcnce  in 
meaning  and  emphasis  between  the  Hebrew  tomar,  ''to  say, 
speak,"  and  taggid*  which  connotes  a  more  comprehensive  and 
intense  communication.  At  the  same  time,  the  phrase  ''the 
house  of  Jacob"  is  usually  interpreted  as  referring  to  the 
women.  The  result  is  the  following  interpretation:  "  'Thus  shall 
you  speak  to  the  house  of  Jacob' — these  are  the  women.  Give 
them  roshei  devarim,  a  short  summary  of  the  themes  that  they 
will  be  able  to  understand;  'and  teil  the  children  of  Israel' — 


I  i 


!i 


li'.ii 


tfi».  Yi'1%  ^itt  lit'iaM^  illt  'll  T 


^4^1>»tgHf i|p^  f  1  n»«*n  ^r^v* . 


14  /  Jewish  Women  in  Time  and  Torah 

these  are  the  men.  They  arc  to  be  taught  the  subjects  in  the 
minutest  detail,  for  they  are  able  to  understand  them/*^^  It  is 
taken  for  granted  that  the  intelligence  of  women  is  quite  inferior 
to  that  of  men;  they  are  unable  to  study  and  to  understand  the 
Torah.  Such  an  evaluation  of  female  intelligence  has,  of  course, 
certain  halakhic  consequences.  Thus,  for  instance,  the  Talmud 
raises  the  following  question:  Assume  that  a  get  (divorce  docu- 
ment)  is  written  on  a  tablet  that  belongs  to  the  woman.  Accord- 
ing  to  the  law,  the  material  on  which  a  get  is  written  must  be 
the  property  of  the  husband  whcn  he  hands  it  to  his  wife  to  be 
divorced.  In  this  case,  the  husband  was  giving  this  get  to  his 
wife.  Since  the  material  of  the  document  has  to  be  the  husband's 
property,  can  we  assume  that  the  wife  transfered  possession  of 
the  material  to  the  husband  before  he  gave  her  the  get,  so  that 
it  bccame  his  property,  or  do  we  say:  "His  wife  does  not 
understand  such  a  legal  transaction''?  Various  attempts  are 
made  in  order  to  prove  that  in  similar  cases  of  legal  require- 
ments,  we  assume  that  the  necessary  transfer  is  properly  under-  . 
stood  and  executed.  However,  the  proof  is  rejected.  Says  Rav 
Ashi,  with  a  tone  of  indignation  (note  that  a  great  part  of  the 
Talmud  is  verbal  discussion  between  the  teachers):  "How  can 
you  cite  that  other  case.  Maybe  it  is  different,  for  a  man  knows 
how  to  transfer  possessions''  (in  a  case  like  this).  Also  rejected 
is  anothcr  cxamplc  to  prove  that  such  a  transfer  may  bc  assumed 
to  have  taken  place,  on  the  grounds  that  even  an  old  man 
understands  how  to  act  in  such  a  Situation,  but  a  woman  may 
not  have  such  understanding.^^  A  similar  example  illustrates  the 
same  point.  In  tractate  Kiddushin  the  story  is  told  of  a  man  who 
gave  a  woman  a  piece  of  silk  as  the  legal  act  of  kiddushin, 
making  her  his  wife.^^  In  a  case  like  this  the  object  has  to  be 
appraised,  for  if  it  does  not  have  the  value  declared  by  the 
husband,  the  kiddushin  are  invalid.  What  if  the  declared  value 
is  fifty  and  the  piece  of  silk  obviously  is  worth  that  much;  is  an 
official  evaluation  still  necessary  or  not?  Rabbah  and  Rav  Jo- 
seph disagree  on  this  point.  According  to  Rabbah  no  evaluation 
is  necessary,  for  the  indicated  value  is  obvious.  Not  so  Rav 


! 


*    l 


**V/omen  Are  a  People  by  Themselves**  I  15 

Joseph.  He  holds  that  the  evaluation  is  still  required;  since 
women  have  no  experience  in  evaluation  the  woman  in  this  case 
does  not  rely  on  the  acknowledged  value  and  is  not  really  in 
agreement. 

Not  only  did  women  not  have  the  ingelligence  to  understand 
more  than  an  elementary  introduction  to  a  short  summary  of 
the  subjects  in  the  Torah,  but  according  to  Rabbi  Eliezer,  a 
father  was  forbidden  to  teach  his  daughter  Torah. ^^  The  final 
conclusion  thus  was:  *There  is  no  other  wisdom  for  a  woman 
except  at  the  spindle.  As  it  is  written:  *Every  woman  of  wisdom 
of  the  heart  was  weaving  with  her  hands/  "^*  One  of  the 
Midrashim  defines  women*s  Status  in  one  concise  sentence  that 
really  says  everything:  ''Women  are  incompetent  to  teach  Torah 
[i.e.,  give  decisions  in  accordance  with  Torah  teaching],  and  one 
may  not  rely  on  their  words."  In  essence  this  view  introduces  a 
ncw  dement  into  the  evaluation  of  the  female — lack  of  trust. 
One  must  not  trust  women.  In  a  sense,  this  dement  appears, 
according  to  the  explanation,  in  the  reason  that  Rabbi  Eliezer 
gives  for  not  allowing  a  father  to  teach  his  daughter  Torah.  His 
words  are:  ''He  who  teaches  his  daughter  Torah  teaches  her 
lewdness.''  This  is,  of  course,  extremdy  disturbing,  and  the 
Talmud  asks:  "Lewdness?  How  can  that  be?  Is  the  Torah 
lewdness?'*  The  answer  is:  "Say  it  this  way — it  is  as  though  he 
taught  her  lewdness."  This  correction  reduces  the  astonishment 
somewhat,  but  still  needs  explanation.  Rashi  clarifies  it  as 
follows:  "  'As  ir — because  from  her  Torah  studies  she  learns 
cunning  and  will  do  all  kinds  of  things  secretly."^'  This  lack  of 
trust  has  yet  another  significance:  Women  are  not  trusted  in 
matters  of  possession. 

We  have  learned  that  whatever  a  woman  finds  {me^Vat  ha- 
ishah)  belongs  to  her  husband.  According  to  the  Babylonian 
Talmud,  the  reason  for  this  ruie  is  to  avoid  possible  hatred  by 
the  husband  (or:  to  make  her  beloved  by  him — see  above).  The 
Jerusalem  Talmud  does  give  the  same  reason  that  is  found  in  the 
Babylonian  teaching.  However  immediatdy  afterward  follows 
the  rather  surprising  and  original  opinion  of  Rabbi  Yose,  who 


1  < 


•1 


i 


.^.,j^«W*-.^,..^,»*«^»►^««t,:,^.,«,.„.^1,^ 


16  /  Jewish  Women  in  Time  and  Torah 

Said:  "[Whatever  the  wife  finds  becomes  the  husband's  prop- 
erty]  so  that  she  will  not  steal  from  her  husband  and  say  it  is 
something  she  found/'^»  Nothing  could  better  express  the  sig- 
nificance  of  the  midrashic  Statement  quoted  earlier  that  one  may 
not  rely  on  a  woman's  words.  But  obviously  such  an  attitude 
toward  a  wife  could  not  be  limited  to  the  case  of  found  objects. 
It  surely  is  due  to  a  general,  all-embracing  suspicion. 

Equally  serious  is  the  lack  of  trust  regarding  the  woman\s 
sexual  behavior.  It  was  gencrally  accepted  that  women  were 
more  easily  seduced  than  men.  Thus  the  Mishnah  teaches:  *'A 
man  should  not  isolate  himscif  with  two  women,  but  two  men 
may  do  so  with  one  woman/*^'  The  explanation  being:  For 
women  are  light-minded  (i.e.,  unreliable),  and  even  two  women 
in  isolation  with  one  man  are  easily  seduced.  Neither  woman 
will  be  inhibited  by  the  presence  of  the  other,  for  each  will 
readily  act  the  same  way.  The  Situation  is  different  with  two 
men  and  one  woman,  in  which  case  each  man  will  be  ashamed 
to  commit  an  immoral  act  in  the  presence  of  the  other.^' 

The  lack  of  trust  regarding  sexual  behavior  led  to  limiting  the 
woman's  contact  with  male  members  of  society.  Maimonides 
sums  up  the  social  exciusion  of  women  in  these  words: 

For  every  women  has  the  right  to  leave  her  home  and  go 
to  her  father's  house  in  ordcr  to  visit  him  or  to  a  house  of 
mourning  or  even  to  a  wcdding  as  an  act  of  loving-kindncss 
to  her  friend  or  relatives,  so  that  thcy  may  also  come  and 
Visit  her.  She  is  not  likc  a  prisoncr  that  she  should  ncithcr 
come  and  go.  But  it  is  shamefui  for  a  woman  to  leave  her 
home  continually,  at  times  outside  her  home  and  at  others 
even  Walking  in  the  strects.  A  husband  should  prevent  his 
wife  from  doing  this.  He  should  not  allow  her  to  leave  the 
house  more  than  once  in  a  month  or  twice,  according  to 
the  need.  For  the  beauty  of  a  woman  consists  in  her  staying 
withdrawn  in  a  corner  of  her  home,  for  this  is  how  it  is 
written:  ^*AII  the  honor  of  the  king's  daughter  is  within 
[her  home]. ""»^ 


( ( 


Women  Are  a  People  by  Themselves"  I  17 


Maimonides  here  combines  two  Clements  of  woman's  seclusion: 
her  husband's  control  over  her  and  the  affirmation  of  her  dig- 
nity:  the  husband  may  not  treat  her  as  if  she  were  a  prisoner  in 
his  home,  and  she  should  appreciate  that  it  is  fitting  for  her  to 
behave  like  a  princess.  However,  a  passage  in  the  Talmud  says 
that  one  of  Eve's  punishments  was  to  be  *'kept  in  a  prison." 
Rashi  explains  it  by  citing  the  very  words  quoted  by  Maimo- 
nides: "  'A  prison,'  as  it  is  written:  all  the  honor  of  a  king's 
daughter  is  within  [her  home].'''*^ 

Maimonides  was  most  likely  correct  in  ascribing  the  woman's 
secluded  place  in  the  home  to  '*the  dignity  and  honor  ofa  king's 
daughter."  Considering  the  social  practices  in  his  time,  it  was 
indeed  not  proper  for  a  respectable  woman  to  roam  the  streets 
and  the  marketplaces;  it  was  improper  and  occasionally  quite 
dangerous.  Yet  the  seclusion  of  women  was  also  a  form  of 
control  exercised  by  their  husbands  that  turned  the  home  for 
them  very  nearly  into  a  **prison.''  At  least  one  midrashic 
opinion  attempts  to  find  a  basis  for  such  control  in  the  Torah 
itself.  When  God  created  Adam,  through  him  He  blessed  the 
future  male  race  and  said:  "Multiply  and  fill  the  earth  and 
subdue  it. ''^5  If  the  word  in  the  Hebrew  original,  khivshuha, 
were  to  stand  by  itself  it  may  be  understood  as  **subdue  her," 
i.e.,  the  woman.  On  it  follows  the  explanation:  *The  man 
subdues  [i.e.,  controls]  his  wife,  so  that  she  should  not  walk 
around  the  marketplaces  [i.e.,  outside  the  home]  and  not  fall 
into  disgrace  [or  sin],  as  happened  to  Dinah,  the  daughter  of 
Leah,  the  wife  of  Jacob. "^^  For  this  reason  she  has  to  be  kept 
back  from  public  life.  In  Rabbi  Meir's  opinion,  the  generally 
accepted  attitude  towards  the  wife's  withdrawal  from  society 
was:  *'She  talks  to  her  brothers  and  relatives  and  the  husband 
does  not  object."^^ 

A  number  of  halakhot  were  based  on  the  weakness  of  the 
female  character  in  matters  of  sexual  self-control.  We  have 
learned  (see  above)  that  if  a  woman  brings  into  her  marriage  an 
appropriate  number  of  maid-slaves  who  will  do  the  work  that 
she  would  otherwise  be  obligated  to  perform,  she  is  free  from 


'<'Ä 


, 


^ 
1' 


,  l&^k  *-** 


>»*'W''^><q^M»»^^MyiH-'«»' »>'^<f »y»i? aj^<<«.Mii^»i^y.j8^ir»is^ K^m im^-**-*  ..•>!.;.»  aj^'  ►•.:;t!*^ 


if 


-/^«--j-i  ^:r'^^f.  -.^  i-'^  j.'.-  y:^-:^: 


those  Services.  However,  sa>s  Rabbi  EJiezer:  '*£ven  ii  she 
brings  wilh  her  a  hundred  servanls,  the  husband  has  to  compel 
her  to  do  the  work  in  wooi-weaving,  for  idieness  leads  to 
lewdness."^*  It  is  worth  noting  that  immediately  after  this  fol- 
lows  an  opinion  of  Rabbi  Simeon  ben  Gamliel,  who  says:  *'Even 
if  the  husband  takes  a  vow  regarding  his  wife  that  she  should 
abstain  from  every  kind  of  work  [i.e.,  because  of  the  'nazirite 
oath'  he  imposes  on  her,  she  would  not  be  permitted  to  do  any 
kind  of  work  as  long  as  she  is  his  wife],  he  has  to  divorce  her 
and  pay  the  value  of  her  ketubah;  for  idieness  leads  to  bore- 
dom.'*  The  opinion  of  Rabbi  Simeon  ben  Gamliel,  shows  a  great 
concern  for  the  woman  that  is  altogether  lacking  in  the  attitude 
of  Rabbi  Eliezer.  Yet,  surprisingly,  Maimonides  cites  the  State- 
ment of  Rabbi  Simeon  ben  Gamliel  as  authoritative,  but  attaches 
to  it  the  reasons  given  by  Rabbi  Eliezer — once  again:  for  idie- 
ness leads  to  lewdness. 

The  nadir  of  the  view  of  women's  sexual  conduct  is  reached 
in  a  Statement  by  Resh  Lakish.  According  to  him  a  woman  will,  ' 
if  need  be,  marry  any  man,  '*for  it  is  better  to  dwell  in  two  than 
to  sit  around  like  a  widow/'  Added  to  this  was  the  comment: 
**And  all  of  them  go  and  commit  adultery,  and  the  offspring  is 
ascribed  to  the  husband. "^^ 

OPINIONS 

After  all  this,  one  should  not  be  surprised  by  the  many  negative 
opinions  about  the  nature  of  women.  The  Torah  says:  **And 
God  built  the  rib  He  had  taken  from  Adam  as  a  woman. *'^®  One 
of  the  talmudic  teachers  says: 

God  had  been  considering  from  which  part  of  Adam's 
body  to  build  the  woman.  He  decided:  not  from  the  head, 
she  would  carry  herseif  proudly;  not  from  the  eye,  that 
she  not  be  too  inquisitive,  prying;  not  from  the  ear,  that 
she  not  be  too  submissive;  and  so  on — none  of  these  parts 
of  the  human  body  would  come  up  to  the  divine  expecta- 


"Women  Are  a  People  by  Themselves"  I  19 

tions.  Therefore,  He  decided  on  a  place  that  is  covered  in 
man;  even  when  a  man  Stands  naked  that  place — of  the 
ribs — is  covered.^' 

Inspite  of  it,  all  the  divine  fears  about  the  negative  character  of 
the  woman's  personality  came  true.  This  is  then  illustrated  by  a 
number  of  examples  found  in  the  Bible  itself.  It  is  to  this  divine 
disappointment  that  Proverbs  refers:  *'And  they  dissolved  all 
my  plans.''"  A  similar  statement  about  the  female  nature  is 
found  in  another  midrashic  passage:  **Our  teachers  said:  Tour 
qualities  maintain  women.  They  are  gluttonous,  docile,  lazy, 
jealous.'  Rabbi  Judah  ben  Rabbi  Nehemiah  said:  'They  are  given 
to  anger  and  are  talkative.'  Rabbi  Levi  said:  'They  are  also 
thievish  and  walk  the  streets.'  "^^  Somewhat  less  critical  is  the 
saying:  'Ten  measures  of  talk  was  given  to  the  world,  of  which 
women  took  nine,  and  one  measure  was  left  to  the  rest  of  the 
World. ''^^  More  extreme  is  Rabbi  Joshua's  opinion  that  a  woman 
prefers  one  measure  of  worldly  goods  and  lewdness  to  nine 
measures  of  that  which  would  impose  continence  on  her.^^  In 
comparison  to  man,  she  was  considered  a  poor  hostess.^^ 

TIME  AND  TORAH 

If  one  considers  the  Status  of  women  as  it  emerges  from  these 
laws,  mores,  and  opinions,  one  cannot  help  wondering:  Is  this 
Judaism?  Is  this  Torah?  How  is  all  this  to  be  reconciled  with 
Torah  values  and  ideals?  What  happened  to  "And  thou  shalt 
love  your  fellow  as  yourself  and  to  "Righteousness,  righteous- 
ness,  thou  shalt  pursue"? 

What's  more,  the  record  of  women  in  the  Torah  is  fundamen- 
tally  different  from  what  might  be  expected  on  the  basis  of  this 
evaluation  of  them  as  inferior  human  beings.  To  Abraham  God 
says:  "Whatever  Sarah  says  to  you,  listen  to  her  voice."  It  is 
Rebecca  who  sees  Jacob's  true  worth,  and  not  Isaac,  who 
prefers  Esau.  In  Egypt,  Miriam  acts  as  a  prophetess  beside 
Moses,  and  during  the  prophetic  period  there  were  prophetesses 


■    ,  ■,.-1.  v«i(«^p^™ 


20  /  Jewish  Women  in  Time  and  Torah 

as  well  as  prophets  in  Israel.  Moreover,  there  were  two  out- 
standing  female  figures  during  the  age  of  the  **Shoftim/'  Divine 
messages  to  ordinary  people  are  sent  through  women.  \\  is  to 
the  future  mother  that  the  angcl  is  sent  to  foretell  the  birth  of 
Samson  and  to  teach  her  how  to  bring  him  up.^^  True,  the  rabbis 
maintain  that  her  husband,  Manoah,  was  an  ignoramiis  in  that 
he  followed  his  wife's  advicc.  But  the  fact  is  that  it  was  the  wife 
who  received  the  '^advicc"  and  not  the  husband.  Help  is  pro- 
\'\dtd  lo  iht  prophtl  EUjhh  h\  h  uomita  choseD  for  ihis  pwvpost 


^     - 


*   .i.   Ä  *- 


Viere  pcrionri^d  for  ihe  iaie  oiikc  morhers. 
The   nashim  tzadkaniyot   ("righteous   women")   fulfilled   a 

unique  task  in  the  history  of  the  Jewish  people.  About  Ihe 
redemplion  from  Egypt  it  is  said  that  the  children  of  Israel  were 
redeemed  because  of  the  meril  of  such  women. ^*  In  the  days  of 
Ahaseurus,  the  Jews  were  savcd  through  Esther;  and  at  Hannu- 
kah,  through  Judith.  There  is  even  a  general  formulation  to  the- 
effect  that  the  Jewish  people  achieve  redemption  because  of  the 
nashim  tzadkaniyot  who  live  in  (heirgeneration.^^The  only  ones 
among  the  Children  of  Israel  who  refused  to  participate  in  the 
worship  of  the  golden  calf  were  the  women.  According  to  one 
tradition,  they  were  given  Rosh  Hodesh  as  a  reward  to  celebrate 
and  observe  as  a  Holy  Day  by  not  working. 

It  is  notcworthy  that  whenever  anyone  challenged  the  right- 
ness  of  a  law  taught  by  Moses,  it  was  women,  not  men,  who  did 
so.  According  to  the  biblical  law  of  inheritance,  only  sons  had 
the  right  to  inherit  the  land  of  their  fathers.  This  law  had  its 
justification.  The  promised  land  was  to  be  distributed  among  the 
twelve  tribes  in  proportion  to  their  numbers.  If  women  were  to 
inherit  with  their  brothers,  it  would  happen,  as  a  result  of 
marriages  of  women  of  one  tribe  to  men  from  other  tribes,  that 
the  land  would  pass  from  tribe  to  tribe.  This  would  upset  the 
equity  of  the  original  division,  by  incrcasing  the  amount  of  land 
in  some  tribes  and  diminishing  it  in  others.  The  father  of 
Zelafhad  died  without  male  heirs  so  that  the  family  remained 


r*^ 


(-• 


* 


"Women  Are  a  People  by  Themselves*'  I  21 

without  a  share  in  the  land.  His  daughters  gathered  courage 
**and  stood  before  Moses,  before  the  priest  Eleazar,  before  the 
heads  of  the  tribes  and  the  entire  people  at  the  door  of  the  tent 
of  the  sanctuary,"  and  pleaded — giving  the  reasons  for  their 
pleading:  **He  died  .  .  .  leaving  no  sons;  why  should  the  name 
of  our  father  be  removed  from  the  midst  of  his  family  because 
he  has  no  son?  Give  us  inheritance  among  our  father's  broth- 
ers!" When  Moses  brought  the  case  before  God  for  a  decision, 
God  said  to  him:  "The  daughters  of  Zelafhad  speak  rightly  .  .  . 
give  them  their  share  in  the  inheritance  of  their  father.'*^ 

It  is  remarkable  that  the  rabbis,  with  similar  great  moral 
courage,  elaborated  the  principle  of  justice  that  motivated  the 
daughters.  They  assert  that  "when  the  daughters  of  Zelafhad 
heard  that  the  land  was  to  be  distributed  among  the  tribes  but 
not  to  the  female  members,  they  assembied  to  consider  the 
matter.  They  said:  The  loving-kindness  of  men  of  flesh  and 
blood  is  unlike  the  loving-kindness  of  the  Holy  One,  blessed  be 
He:  they  prefer  the  male  to  the  female  human  being;  not  so  the 
Holy  One,  blessed  be  He;  His  loving-kindness  is  over  all  his 
works,  as  it  is  written,  'and  His  loving-kindness  is  over  all  his 
works.'  "^'  And  one  cannot  help  wondering:  Did  not  the  laws  of 
inheritance  established  by  Moses  originate  in  the  will  of  God? 
Did  God  have  to  be  reminded  that  His  loving-kindness  was 
spread  over  all  His  works? 

Finally,  wc  hardly  ever  realize  that  to  this  day,  religious  Jews 
pray  the  daily  Shemoneh  Esreh  in  a  manner  which  was  taught 
US  by  Hannah,  the  wife  of  Elkanah,  who — in  God's  response  to 
her  prayer — became  the  mother  of  the  prophet  Samuel.  Rabbi 
Hamnuna  explains: 

How  many  important  halakhot  [laws  of  prayer]  can  we 
learn  from  what  is  said  about  Hannah's  prayer:  "And 
Hannah  spoke  from  her  heart" — this  means  that  he  who 
prays  should  concentrate  in  his  heart;  "only  her  lips 
moved" — he  who  prays  should  pronounce  the  words 
clearly;  "and  her  voice  was  not  heard" — this  teaches  us 


I 


1  j 


*^j(mii^»^-\^m%'^vm>»^ 


.,^  ^M^^ß^^ •^H^-.xH.v-  -  -■^m^<^^. ^>J?^v^.^  ^*4 HVA-  '^  \M  •* '  r'4^  ■  ^  •  .'^  •' 


that  ii  is  forbidden  lo  raise  one's  voice  in  one's  prayers: 
**And  Eli  ihought  that  she  was  drunk,  etc."— this  means 
thal  one  must  not  pray  when  one  is  drunk." 

It  is  important  to  understand  that  the  Statements,  laws,  mores, 
and  opinions  that  we  have  disciissed  thus  far  were  not  really 
about  the  nature  of  women,  but  aboiit  what  women  bccame  as 
the  resiih  of  the  Status  granted  them.  Probably  nothing  proves 
this  more  cicaiiy  Ihan  the  negative  view  about  their  intclligcnce. 
We  have  quoted  above  the  midrashic  Interpretation  of  the 
bibHcal  words:  *'And  God  made  a  woman  from  Adam's  rib.''  It 
held  that  God  chose  the  rib  after  considering  which  part  of 
Adam's  body  would  be  most  suitable  for  the  creation  of  Evc, 
but  that  His  plans  were  uhimately  defeated,  because  women 
have  all  the  evil  qualities  that  He  wanted  to  eliminate  (see 
above).  However,  surprisingly,  there  is  also  another  interpreta- 
tion  of  the  word  va-yiven,  rehUcd  to  binah,  *'wisdom" — namely, 
that  God  provided  Eve  with  wisdom,  which  teaches  us  that  God 
gave  woman  understanding  superior  to  that  of  man.^^  This  has 
certain  halakhic  consequences.  According  to  the  law  a  person 
who  takes  an  oath  (e.g.,  to  abstain  from  certain  enjoyments)  is 
required  to  keep  it  if  he  is  mature  enough  to  understand  the 
meaning  of  the  Obligation  that  he  imposed  upon  himscif.  Be- 
cause of  her  superior  intelligence,  a  girl  at  the  age  of  twelve  is 
adjudged  to  be  capable  of  such  understanding,  while  a  boy 
reaches  maturity  at  the  age  of  thirteen.  The  Talmud  adds:  'This 
is  the  view  of  Rabbi  [Rabbi  Judah  ha-Nasi,  the  editor  of  the 
Mishnah].  But  Rabbi  Simeon  ben  Elazar  said:  What  has  been 
Said  about  the  young  girl  applies  to  the  young  boy,  and  vice 
versa:  girls  mature  enough  to  obligate  themselves  should  be  of 
the  age  of  thirteen."^  The  qucstion,  of  course,  is:  What  hap- 
pened  to  the  female's  superior  intelligence?  Tosafot  explains 
that  Rabbi  Simeon  ben  Elazar  does  not  disagree  with  Rabbi's 
original  Interpretation  of  the  blibical  va-yiven,  but  maintains 
that  the  boys'  natural  intelligence  develops  because  he  is  so 
often  in  the  house  of  his  teacher,  which  is  not  the  case  for  girls. 


''Women  Are  a  People  by  Themselves*'  I  23 

The  opinion  is  formulated  more  explicitly  in  a  midrash:  *The 
way  of  a  woman  is  to  sit  in  her  house;  that  of  a  man,  to  go  out 
into  the  marketplaces,  and  thus  he  learns  wisdom  from  other 
people. '*^5  What  we  hear  here,  then,  is  indeed,  as  Rabbi  as- 
serted,  that  women  are  by  nature  of  superior  intelligence,  but 
that  their  intelligence  cannot  mature  because  of  their  lack  of 
education  and  exciusion  from  social  and  economic  activities. 
They  had  no  experience  in  legal  matters,  such  as  the  legal  forms 
of  property  transfer,  or  in  monetary  evaluation  of  everyday 
objects  (see  above).  The  failure  to  acknowledge  the  dignity  of 
the  female  personality  was  also  responsible  for  the  lack  of  trust 
in  monetary  matters.  As  we  saw,  women  had  practically  no 
rights  in  matters  of  property.  The  principle  was:  What  a  wife 
acquires  belongs  to  her  husband.  There  were  some  exceptions; 
for  instance,  the  property  a  wife  brought  with  her  into  her 
marriage  (known  as  nikhsei  melog  and  nikhsei  tzon  barzel),  or 
property  given  her  by  others  with  the  condition  that  her  husband 
would  have  no  right  over  it.  But  even  with  such  property  she 
did  not  have  freedom  of  disposition,  as  the  yields  of  it  belonged 
to  her  husband.  Furthermore,  if  she  died,  the  husband  inherited 
her  possessions;  but  when  he  died,  she  did  not  inherit  him  (see 
above).  No  wonder,  then,  that  occasionally  a  wife  might  be 
inclined  to  steal  from  her  husband  (see  above). 

Again,  the  necessity  for  laws  obligating  the  wife  to  work  in 
Order  to  make  herseif  beloved  by  her  husband  only  underlies 
the  impersonal  character  of  a  marriage  that  is  based  essentially 
on  **arrangements.'*  This  is  sufficient  to  explain  the  lack  of  trust 
in  matters  of  sexual  loyalty  to  her  husband.  Everything  wa^ 
Obligation,  lacking  the  personal  closeness  and  intimacy  of  love 
between  husband  and  wife.  Indeed,  there  could  not  have  been 
much  personal  emotional  commitment  by  the  wife  in  a  marriage 
in  which  the  mutuality  of  personal  intimacy  was  lacking.  It  is 
remarkable  that,  apparently,  the  talmudic  teachers  were  them- 
selves aware  of  the  basic  impersonality  of  such  marriages. 
Among  the  **curses*'  bestowed  on  Eve  and,  through  her,  on 
women  in  general  is  one  that  *'she  was  [as  if]  ostracized  from 


*<^iiyywpty»>'Mii<<»W'!**'^*p»?'»>>>:'^»^'>^^y^^  n  y^  u^  'i(lf-^><M.t^ 


rr' 


24  /  y^vv/Ä'/i  Wome'M  ///  Time  and  Torali 

all  men."  The  explanation  is  that,  whereas  a  husband  may 
marry  as  many  women  as  he  pleases.  without  any  consideration 


XiU.'^. 


>icie  ^r  i:j 


.i.mi^U.tm' 


.m^S^-.^jC'Zi    i 


JCc. 


riie  ^  j^-T 


^icc  iJC-«:  -»»^iiLc-i  rui  *»ji*i. 


hlC'jCZf  ^  i^ZkCC 


ihe>  lived  made  of  me/n.  VVe  noitd  Rcsh  L<ikiih's  opinion  thäi 
a  woman  would  be  wiJhng  to  marry  any  man  because  ir  is  belter 
to  live  with  anyone  rather  Ihan  be  unmarried;  but  then  she 
would  go  and  commit  adultcry  and  say  that  the  offspring  was 
her  husband's.  In  a  society  in  which  women  had  no  education 
or  profession  and  in  all  matters  of  maintenance  were  completcly 
dependent  on  their  husbands,  such  behavior  on  the  part  of 
women  is  understandable.  In  a  similar  manner,  one  may  also 
understand  the  law  (see  above)  that  one  must  not  relieve  onc's 
wife  of  any  of  the  Services  a  woman  is  obligated  to  perform,  for 
such  freedom  would  lead  to  tiflut  (immorality,  lewdness).  In- 
deed,  in  a  society  in  which  a  woman  must  stay  secluded  in  her 
home,  how  could  she  endure  idleness!  Opinions  and  laws  of  this 
kind  bespeak  the  nature  of  the  society  rather  than  the  essential 
female  character. 

In  a  sense,  the  same  applies  to  what  may  be  considered  the 
most  radically  negative  Statement  about  female  behavior.  We 
are  referring  to  witchcraft.  In  the  Torah  itself  we  find  the  verse: 
"Let  not  a  witch  live."  The  Talmud  explains:  "Why  is  a  female 
witch  mentioned  [the  Hebrcw  for  ^'witch/'  mekhashefah,  is 
feminine]?  Because  mostly  women  engage  in  witchcraft. *'^^  Is 
this  really  true?  Does  the  Torah  say  so?  It  is  a  personal  opinion, 
and  it  must  have  some  timely  basis.  In  the  Ethics  of  the  Fathers, 
it  is  Said:  '*He  who  marries  many  wives  increases  witchcraft." 
Finally,  we  hear  the  opinion:  'The  best  among  women  engage 
in  witchcraft."^  Perhaps  this  final  opinion  qualifies  all  the 
previous  Statements  and  also  offers  an  explanation.  Obviously, 
most  women  are  not  '*the  best"  among  women.  Why,  indeed, 
would  the  best  among  women  be  engaged  in  witchcraft?  It 
seems  to  us  that  this  too  teils  more  about  the  society  than  about 


''Women  Are  a  People  by  Themselves"  I  25 

« 

the  nature  of  women.  Who  would  be  "the  best  among  women" 
referred  to  in  this  context?  Clearly.  not  the  most  pious,  the 
most  modest  and  observant.  By  "the  best  among  women"  are 
meant  those  v.ho  are  mosl  inieUeclually  gifted  and  energetic; 
ihose  v^ho  would  be,  if  permitted.  ihe  mosl  able  lo  prove 
themselves  and  assert  their  personal  dignity.  For  this  very 
reason,  they  are  the  most  frustrated  women  in  a  society  m 
which  females  have  no  education,  and  are  denied  any  form  of 
active  participation  in  the  iife  of  the  Community  aside  from 
"bringing  their  children  to  the  Talmud  Torah"*'  and  waiting  for 
their  husbands  until  they  return  from  the  house  of  study.  It  is 
understandable  that  many  of  them  turned  to  the  dark  realm  of 
witchcraft,  where  their  gifts  and  capabilities  could  find  a  form 
of  fulfillment.  One  might  see  in  this  a  form  of  rebellious  self- 
affirmation.  It  may  be  that  the  example  set  by  the  "best  among 
the  women"  influenced  many  less-gifted  women,  who  then 
followed  their  example.  That  would  explain  the  view  of  Rabbi 
Simeon  ben  Yohai,  who  noted  that  in  "later  generations,  the 
daughters  of  Israel  do  not  keep  themselves  from  witchcraft 
activities."™  This  may  have  been  an  unconscious  rebelhon  of 
sorts  against  the  treatment  women  received. 

In  attempting  to  understand  this  stränge  phenomenon  in  Jew- 
ish  Iife,  we  must  realize  that  many  of  the  negative  opinions 
about  women  and  their  place  in  society  are  not  authentically 
Jewish.  For  instance,  a  study  of  the  practices  in  classical  Greece 
reveals  many  similarities  and  parallels  between  the  two  socie- 
ties   For  example,  the  established  principle  was  "that  men  are 
born  to  rule  and  women  to  obey."  The  treatment  of  wives 
followed  this  principle.  Socrates,  for  instance,  when  he  was 
dying,  desired  to  be  among  his  male  friends.  His  wife,  Xan- 
thippe, he  dismissed  bluntly  from  his  deathbed.  This,  in  itself. 
was  a  dramatic  indication  of  the  emotional  gulf  between  hus- 
band and  wife.  The  purpose  of  marriage  was  procreation.  and 
woman  is  occasionally  referred  to  as  a  "field  to  plow."  In  fact, 
"since  the  male  seed  is  all-important,  any  female  will  do."  In 
Aeschylus'  Eiimenides  the  mother's  role  in  conception  is  de- 


1 


': 


il 

(1 

I 


^^«iwiiPiJW^  ^.^,^  -Hf  >^i?#^.t^..»#citt-^.'.<- 


#:>>  ■t'»*'!,^^ .  )t,,^i.^(|.«j^.,^^,^», 


(»i'^:' •-»<■*.>■<.. .;^.,,   -i;    1, 


■**•    ,^-     ■>    V-V''3(.^ 


..  .««-^«^  •>»•     •';.:•.* 'j  -'  «jv-   ■r":vf*>j ..  ***'!*'***' 


26  /  Jewish  Women  in  Time  and  Torah 


.^ta.-.-a. 


>^a^' 


^^--*  •  '  -'  "> ' ' 


JL>crcJl4Jc! 


♦•-»--ü.- 


-».-^w  ^  -cicrirec 


Citizen  women  were  perpetually  under  the  guard/anship  of 
a  man,  usually  the  fathcr  or,  if  he  were  dead,  the  male 
next-of-kin.  Upon  marriage  the  woman  passed  into  the 
guardianship  of  her  husband  in  most  matters,  with  the 
important  hmitation  that  her  father,  or  whoever  eise  had 
given  her  in  marriage,  retained  the  right  to  dissolve  the 
marriage.  If  the  husband  predeceased  the  wife,  the  guard- 
ianship of  her  dowry,  and  perhaps  of  her  person,  passed 
to  her  sons  if  they  were  of  age,  or  to  thcir  guardians. 

The  Separation  of  women  from  mcn  was  like  a  replica  of  what 
we  found  in  early  Jewish  society.  There  were  separate  quarters ' 
for  men  and  women.  *Tree  women  were  usually  secluded  so 
that  they  could  not  be  scen  by  mcn  who  were  not  close  rela- 
tives." It  was  maintained  **that  some  women  were  even  too 
modest  to  be  seen  by  men  who  were  relatives,  and  for  a  stränge 
man  to  intrude  upon  free  women  in  the  house  of  another  man 
was  tantamount  to  a  criminal  act."  Men  spent  most  of  their  time 
in  public  areas,  such  as  the  marketplace,  etc.  Respectable 
women  remained  at  home.  Greek  women  would  sit  secluded  in 
the  interior  parts  of  the  house. 

The  work  of  the  Greek  wife  was  not  different  from  that  of  her 
Jewish  counterpart.  The  housework  was  entirely  her  responsi- 
bility.  If  the  house  was  wealthy,  she  supervised  the  work  of  the 
slaves.  However,  working  in  wool  was  traditionally  a  woman's 
task.  **When  Augustus  wishcd  to  instill  respect  for  old-fash- 
ioned  virtues  among  the  sophisticated  women  of  his  household, 
he  set  them  to  work  in  wool  and  worc  thcir  homcspun  results."' 
(One  is,  of  course,  reminded  of  the  talmudic  Statement  that  the 
only  wisdom  of  women  is  in  the  spindle.) 


**  Women  Are  a  People  by  Themselves**  I  27 

As  for  women's  intelligence,  Aristotle,  to  cite  one  example, 
taught  that  *'the  deliberative  part  of  a  woman's  soul  was  impo- 
tent and  needed  supervision,"  whereas  his  disciple,  Theophras- 
tus,  maintained  '*that  more  education  would  turn  women  into 
rather  lazy,  talkative  busybodies."  These  ideas  about  the  edu- 
cation of  women  recall  Maimonides'  interpretation  of  Rabbi 
Eliezer's  Statement  as  to  why  a  father  should  not  teach  his 
daughtcr  Torah  (see  above):  **Our  sages  commanded  that  one 
should  not  teach  one's  daughtcr  Torah  because  the  minds  of 
most  women  are  incapable  of  concentrating  on  learning,  and 
thus,  because  of  their  intellectual  poverty,  they  turn  the  words 
of  the  Torah  into  words  of  nonsense — vain  talk."^' 

The  handling  of  property  was  also  determined  by  woman's 
limited  intelligence.  ''Women  in  Greece  could  acquire  property 
through  their  dowries,  or  by  gifts,  or  by  inheritance  as  sisters, 
Cousins,  nieces,  and  aunts.  .  .  .  Some  women  were  actively 
aware  of  financial  matters,  but  their  property  was  nevertheless 
managed  by  male  guardians."  Greek  women  did  not  even  go  to 
market  for  food.  Purchase  and  exchange  were  considered  finan- 
cial transactions  too  complicated  for  women  to  be  entrusted 
with.  There  was  also  the  additional  desire  to  ''protect  women 
from  the  eyes  of  strangers  and  from  intimate  dealings  with  shop 
keepers."^^ 

We  shall  conclude  this  section  of  our  study  with  two  quota- 
tions.  In  the  Talmud  and  Midrash  we  find  a  discussion  of  the 
apparent  contradiction  between  Proverbs  18:22,  ''One  who  has 
found  a  wife  finds  goodness,"  and  Ecclesiastes  7:26,  "I  find  the 
wife  to  be  more  bitter  than  death  itself."  The  contradiction  is 
resolved  by  the  explanation:  "If  she  is  a  good  wife,  there  is  no 
end  to  her  goodness;  if  she  is  a  bad  wife,  there  is  no  end  to  her 
badness."^^  The  Greek  poet  Hesiod  said  much  the  same  thing: 
*'A  man  wins  nothing  better  than  a  good  wife  and  nothing  worse 
than  abad  one."^^ 

One  is  almost  inclined  to  ask  whether  Hesiod  was  influenced 
by  the  Midrash  or  whether  the  Midrash  was  aware  of  Hesiod's 
formulation.   However,  the  question  should  be  asked  in  its 


M^    ■.^-^f»i 


'«4»flr)r«0n((H#|rl'f'«^«pi4f>^,*)f«^  I.***-»''  «-vTjfc-V«. 


♦t»-.i;u<..^l#<i,.,    ■<-lyjpr.*,,-^jiik,f4«^.4N\.>^A    *#■*-{  ^#^  A'-.|jHt»W' ■•!;•■■  "*-*"^ ' '^•' 


A^^ptv.    ^ 


24  ^  Je/^iih  Vtornen  in  Iime  arui  lorun 

widest  application.  In  view  of  the  similarities  between  the 
ancient  Jewish  and  ancient  Greek  societies,  there  is  no  need  for 
US  to  enter  into  detaiied  historical  research  as  to  dates  and 
possible  contacts.  It  is  quite  clear  that  we  are  here  confrontcd 
with  a  general,  purely  human  phenomenon.  Obviously,  this  is 
how  women  were  evaluated  in  the  original  male-cstablished 
social  structure.  Their  Status  was  determined  in  accordance 
with  the  Functions  they  were  able  to  perform  in  such  societies. 
These  were  matters  completely  time-conditioned  and  subject  to 
the  values  entertained  and  understood  by  the  men  and  women 
of  the  period.  The  original  forms  of  social  and  economic  life 
upon  which  the  Status  of  women  were  based  were  not  intro- 
duced  and  established  by  the  Torah. 

The  social,  economic,  and  even  religious  practices  of  early 
Jewish  Society  were  sometimes  contrary  to  principles  of  the 
Torah.  But  how  could  Judaism  make  peace  with  them?  Uow 
could  it  live  with  them?  This  question  introduces  us  to  one  of 
the  major  problems  of  Halakhah. 

The  Torah  addresses  itself  to  man  in  this  world.  As  is  empha- 
sized  in  the  Talmud,  the  Torah  was  not  given  to  God-serving 
angels.  The  task  is  to  improvc  the  world  by  the  ideal  of  divine 
kingship,  i.e.,  by  the  acknowledgment  of  divine  authority.  But 
the  world  is  this  world.  It  is  the  raw  material  of  which  man 
himself  is  a  part.  In  this  respect,  Jews  share  their  human  nature 
with  the  rest  of  mankind.  The  Torah  speaks  to  man.  But  to 
which  man?  The  words  of  etcrnity  are  addressed  to  man  in  time, 
to  man  who  is  forever  changing  as  the  times  change.  How  can 
the  same  teaching  meaningfully  he  conveyed  to  the  Jcw  at  the 
time  of  the  Exodus,  then  again  during  the  First  and  Second 
Temples?  Can  we  expect  the  same  values  to  be  appreciated  by 
the  Jews  of  Babylon  and  hundreds  of  years  later  by  Spanish 
Jewry?  Can  the  goals  and  aspirations  of  Judaism  in  the  Middle 
Ages  be  shared  by  the  Jewries  of  the  Modern  Age?  And  yet  God 
speaks  the  same  word  to  all  gcnerations.  How  is  that  possible? 
How  may  the  word  of  etcrnity  function  meaningfully  in  the 
midst  of  the  earthly  reality  of  time-conditioned  human  beings? 


"Women  Are  a  People  hy  Themselves"  I  29 


It  would  seem  that  the  rabbis  of  the  Midrash  dealt  with  one 
aspect  of  the  problem.  One  need  not  call  on  the  changing  times 
in  Order  to  formulate  the  issue.  In  every  society,  at  any  time, 
people  differ  in  their  physical  capacities  and  intellectual  abili- 
ties,  in  their  imagination,  tastes,  desires,  and  goals  for  life.  Yet 
there  seems  to  be  the  one  and  the  same  truth  for  all. 

Commenting  on  Psalms  29:4,  ^The  voice  of  God  [came]  with 
power,''  Rashi  says:  "At  the  time  of  the  giving  of  the  Torah, 
God  limited  His  voice  in  accordance  with  the  strength  of  the 
Israelites  to  receive.''  The  thought  is  developed  with  greater 
clarity  in  the  Midrash  on  Exodus.  It  is  noted  that  the  psalmist 
does  not  say  that  the  voice  of  God  was  heard  "with  His  power'' 
but  simply  "with  power."  The  meaning  is  that  Standing  at  Sinai, 
each  one  received  the  Voice  in  accordance  with  his  own 
strength:  the  old  people  in  accordance  with  their  strength,  and 
so  also  the  young  ones,  the  children,  and  the  women— each 
group  heard  it  commensurate  with  its  own  strength.  It  is  true 
that  the  reference  here  is  to  physical  capacity.  Had  God  spoken 
to  them  with  the  might  of  His  strength,  no  one  could  have 
endured  it.  Each  received  the  Voice  at  a  pitch  appropriate  to  his 
or  her  hearing  capacity.  But  if  this  was  true  of  the  physical 
quality  of  the  Voice,  how  much  more  is  it  evident  that  they  all 
received  the  same  word,  but  each  in  conformity  with  his  own 
Spiritual  and  moral  capacity.  There  is  no  other  way  of  receiving 
the  meaning  of  any  communication. 

Maimonides  was  fully  aware  of  the  consequences  of  this 
human  condition.  His  Solution  of  the  problem  may  be  learned 
from  his  interpretation  of  the  animal  sacrifices  the  Jewish  people 
were  commanded  to  offer  in  the  Sanctuary  of  Jerusalem.  Ac- 
cording  to  Maimonides,  prayer  is  a  form  of  divine  service  far 
superior  to  animal  sacrifices.  That  being  so,  why  were  they  not 
ordered  from  the  very  beginning  to  pray  rather  than  bring 
korbanot?  This  is  his  explanation: 

It  is  impossible  for  man  to  change  suddenly  from  one 
extreme  to  the  other.  It  is  impossible  for  him  suddenly  to 


«-»■^  -  »..■»..M.^J 


'»IPyyiitBIpiu*^,^. 'ytii»<M!^«^Hf3<^^<^^  ^-^si«  uAii^^uym ^^swv,  -f^'^-s^^ IfffW*!^:;?- t'-f  ^  '^  f^^ff^*^'*^^  ''^'^ 


•>',■•■  .  .>^4f^  j,»*  'M'  #i-v> 


30  /  Jenish  Women  in  Time  and  Torah 

give  up  what  he  has  bcen  accustomed  to.  As  God  sent 
Moses  to  make  us  **a  kingdom  of  priests  and  a  holy 
nation,"^^  and  (o  dedicate  oiirselves  to  His  Service,  as  it  is 
Said:  ''And  to  serve  Hirn  with  all  your  heart/'^^  the  pre- 
vailing  custom  in  the  world  was  to  sacrifice  animals  in  the 
temples  which  people  had  erected  to  their  idols,  to  bow 
down  to  them  and  burn  incense  before  them,  etc.  God's 
wisdom  counseied  Hirn  that  to  command  the  Jcws  to  givc 
up  all  that  kind  of  service  and  annul  it  completely  would 
have  been  something  that  their  hearts  could  not  havc 
accepted.  Human  nature  is  forever  inclined  towards  the 
accustomed  practice.  Such  a  command  would  he  as  if  a 
prophet  came  to  us  [today]  to  call  us  to  the  service  of  God 
and  Said:  "God  has  commanded  you  not  to  pray  to  Him  or 
fast  or  ask  for  help  in  times  of  trouble,  but  to  make  your 
Service  be  pure  thought  without  any  action/*  [In  fiict,  this 
is  what  Maimonides  considered  the  avodah  aharonah,  the 
ultimate  service  of  God  by  pure  thought  meditating  upon 
Him.]  For  this  reason,  God  allowed  the  [generally  prac- 
ticed]  sacrificial  Services  to  remain,  but  directed  them 
away  from  those  creatcd  or  imagined  powers  in  which 
there  is  no  truth  to  His  own  name,  blessed  be  He,  and 
commanded  to  dedicate  (hem  to  Him.  Thus,  He  com- 
manded US  to  build  a  sanctuary  to  Him,  etc.,  and  that  the 
sacrifices  shall  be  offercd  to  Him:  ''If  one  from  among  you 
will  offer  a  sacrifice  unto  Me,"^^  etc.,  etc.  Thus,  this  divine 
guidance  achieved  its  purpose— that  even  the  mcmory  of 
idol  worship  was  erased  among  us,  and  the  important  truth 
was  established  in  the  midst  of  our  people,  i.e.,  the  exis- 
tence  of  God  and  His  unity.^« 

The  goal  had  been  set,  "to  serve  Him  with  all  your  heart," 
which  the  rabbis  explained  as  follows:  "What  is  the  service  of 
the  heart?  It  is  prayer."  Yet  this  goal  was  to  be  achieved  only 
gradually,  by  a  guided  changc  in  the  human  capacity  to  undcr- 
stand  and  absorb  it.  Numerous  authorities  do  not  agree  with 


''Women  Are  a  People  by  Themselves*'  I  31 

Maimonides'  interpretation  of  the  meaning  of  animal  sacrifices. 
But  the  principle  that  he  uses  for  his  interpretation  has  general 
validity  and  reveals  Judaismus  basic  method  for  the  application 
of  the  eternal  word  of  God  to  the  time-conditioned  reality  of  the 
human  Situation.  It  says:  The  goals  and  the  values  are  these 
forever.  But  they  are  taught  and  applied  with  the  wisdom  of 
understanding  that  time-conditioned  reality  cannot  be  changed 
overnight.  The  method  of  the  Torah  is  to  acknowledge  reality, 
to  take  human  nature  into  account  and  apply  the  eternal  word 
to  it  so  far  as  is  possible.  Thus  to  teach  values  and  guide 
behavior,  indicating  the  goal  towards  which  the  guided  change 
has  to  move.  The  goal  is  to  integrate  the  eternal  with  the 
temporal;  not  to  change  human  nature  but  to  realize  its  Poten- 
tial. This  is  the  principle  that  one  may  derive  from  Maimonides' 
interpretation  of  the  meaning  of  animal  sacrifices  in  the  Temple 
of  Jerusalem.  Whether  one  agrees  with  his  interpretation  in  this 
specific  case  or  not,  the  principle  as  such  has  general  validity. 
Maimonides  rightly  maintains  that  one  may  find  many  examples 
of  this  kind  of  guidance  in  the  Torah. 

We  shall  consider  here  just  one  case,  that  of  slavery.  It  is  not 
our  Intention  to  consider  it  in  its  general  significance.  Judaism's 
attitude  to  the  Canaanite  slave  requires  a  special  study,  but  the 
ideal  is  fuUy  indicated  in  the  words  of  Job,  who  says:  "Do  I 
deny  justice  to  my  slave,  male  or  female,  when  they  quarrel 
with  me?  And  what  would  I  do  when  God  arose  and  recalled  it? 
How  could  I  answer  Him?  Did  not  the  One  who  formed  him 
form  me,  too,  and  shape  us  in  one  womb!''^^  Even  regarding  the 
Canaanite  slave,  the  teaching  was: 

Notwithstanding  the  law,  the  qualities  of  piety  and  wisdom 
require  that  one  be  merciful  and  pursue  justice  and  not 
impose  one's  yoke  on  one's  slave.  One  should  not  oppress 
him  and  should  give  him  to  eat  and  drink  from  all  available 
food  and  drink  [i.e.,  the  same  as  one's  own  food  and 
drink].  The  sons  of  our  father  Abraham— the  Jews,  upon 
whom  the  Holy  One,  blessed  be  He,  poured  out  in  abun- 


^t%pn?9iwMMrf*-     '  I  *^-*  •  . .  H— - 


J•-"'1-t«:t-^ 


'.  i^  .***. 


*■  ■  1*-  ,-i»-*I'>, 


m 


32  /  Jewish  Women  in  Time  and  Torah 

dance  the  good  that  is  the  Torah,  and  commanded  them 
just  Statutes  and  laws— have  mercy  on  all.  Such  are  the 
attributes  of  the  Holy  One,  blessed  be  He,  that  they  [the 
Jewish  people]  are  commanded  to  Imitate,  which  declarc 
'.hhi  His  Hjzrcizi  2j^  02  ül  His  uoriis.  To  ihe  one  wbo  i% 


V  •  1* 


•1.1^  A  ■  ■  ■»< 


^    .i^      •**-r'^«i 


'-U   *. 


^  s 


J^  -Jt» 


•  c^.  t    «^i 


gtntral  practica  in  other  civilizauons.  /n  bibJicaJ  limes,  a  ihi'ef 
who  could  not  retum  what  he  had  stoJen  or  pay  for  its  value 
vvould  be  sold  as  a  slave  through  a  rabbinical  court.  However, 
he  could  only  be  sold  for  a  term  of  six  years.  At  any  time  during 
his  enslavement,  if  he  came  into  the  possession  of  funds  suffi- 
cient  to  pay  his  master  the  sum  he  had  paid  for  him,  minus  the 
value  of  the  time  he  had  already  served,  he  was  permitted  to  do 
so  and  go  free.  In  general,  he  was  to  be  treated  like  a  hired 
servant,  not  like  a  slave;  thus,  he  was  freed  from  certain  kinds 
of  labor  that  were  usually  donc  by  slaves,  such  as  carrying  his 
master's  change  of  clothing  to  the  bath  and  taking  off  his 
master's  shoes.  The  master  had  to  treat  him  like  an  equal  in 
matters  of  food,  drink,  clothing,  and  living  conditions  ("for  he 
should  have  it  good  with  you").«'  When  the  years  of  his  slavery 
were  up,  the  Jewish  slave  was  not  to  be  sent  away  empty- 
handed.  He  was  to  be  paid  a  '*severance  fee,''  probably  the  first 
ever  in  human  history,  as  it  is  written:  "You  should  grant  him 
from  your  sheep,  your  harn,  and  your  wine  cellar.  You  should 
give  him  from  that  with  which  God  has  blessed  you.''»^  j^ 
general,  slaves  were  to  be  treated  with  respect,  as  befit  fellow- 
Israelites.  As  a  result  of  all  this,  Jews  eventually  concluded  that 
he  who  bought  himself  a  slave  bought  himself  a  master.*^  Far  be 
it  from  me  to  maintain  that  Jcws  always  followed  these  ruics 
and  teachings.  There  is  sufficient  proof  in  the  Torah  to  the 


4 


I 
1 


^iiSi 


vi 


'ff 


* 'Women  Are  a  People  by  Themselves'*  I  33 

contrary.  Yet  there  is  little  doubt  in  my  mind  that  in  a  Jewish 
State,  governed  by  these  teachings  and  ruies,  had  it  been  in 
cxistcnce,  slavery  would  have  been  abolished  long  centuries 
bcfore  the  age  of  Lincoln. 

In  the  case  of  slavery,  Judaism  was  confronted  with  the  same 
Problem  that  Maimonides  discusses  with  regard  to  animal  sac- 
rifices.  International  historical  experience  in  this  matter  is  more 
than  sufficient  to  prove  that  a  biblical  command  to  forbid  slavery 
would  not  have  been  understood  and  would  certainly  not  have 
been  accepted.  On  the  contrary,  it  would  have  led  to  an  active 
rejection  of  the  ideas  of  respect  for  human  dignity  and  equality 
of  Status  before  God.  The  method  used  was  guided  by  the  ideal, 
which  was  applied  effectively  to  the  time-conditioned  Situation. 

This,  indeed,  is  the  essential  nature  of  Halakhah:  It  recog- 
nizes  the  continually  changing  human  condition.  Its  task  is  not 
to  change  the  law  as  man  and  conditions  change.  That  would 
not  be  Torah-guidance.  Halakhah  affirms  the  law,  but— recog- 
nizing  the  ultimate  authority  of  the  word  of  God  as  revealed  in 
the  Torah— applies  it  in  a  manner  that  enables  the  meaning  and 
purpose  of  the  law  to  guide  man  and  society  in  the  context  of 
the  aimed-at  integration  of  Torah  and  life.  Judaism  commits  the 
Jew  to  the  ever-enduring  vital  partnership  with  God.  The  result 
is  Torat  Hayyim,  a  living  Torah. 

TORAH-TOLERATED,  NOT  TORAH-TAUGHT 

Undoubtedly,  the  basic  views  and  values  that  originally  deter- 
mined  the  Status  of  women  in  Jewish  society  were  not  derived 
from  the  Torah,  even  though  many  of  them  were  later  given 
midrashic  justification.  They  were  Torah-tolerated  because  they 
could  not  be  abolished  with  an  act  of  Torah  legislation.  They 
had  to  be  tolerated,  but  certain  changes  and  differences  were 
present  which  indicated  that  an  entirely  different  system  of 
values  and  teachings  also  existed.  The  most  significant  differ- 
ence  between  ancient  Greece  and  early  Jewish  society  is  to  be 
Seen  in  the  fact  that  in  the  latter  women  were  not  under 


-•••»     «•< -^BBi^»^^^ 


"W"<i 


■^»w 


■i*^ 


^msv"'  '»"^T^-v  v'Vf'^♦v•- 


■'^'iSp^V^f:,  .-«?»^fain- •■•'Th^s;^-.'  "i..i«A*j^»-N-  -»««i^uv'-^..««-  .:*  «'j  -'M'^  "•'*'*   '^'*'^*  ^^  •■•;.   r'' 


:S; 


El-  ■  -t 


'* 


^#  _.f  ¥<^rjc  t  jf  ^ir^i  ^u:  u^\J,r 


«  Zxt  TTu'rTf^r   Vtx:.   J!l^   ^-^•^•^^^^-'^  ^  Ti*.    ^  -  ^'  ^^ 


• 


given  \Tiio  mxxnihgt  cig^nsi  h^r  v^iil.  h  is  j'ndeed  inic  ihai  once 
she  was  married  she  came  under  the  authority  of  her  husband; 
but  as  we  saw  above,  while  a  Greek  woman  retumed  to  the 
guardianship  of  her  father  (or  her  nearest  male  relative,  if  the 
father  had  died)  after  a  divorce,  a  divorced  Jewish  woman 
remained  free  and  under  her  own  control.  While  a  Jewish 
woman*s  marriage  could  only  be  dissolved  by  her  husband,  even 
this  may  be  better  appreciated  when  one  compares  it  with  the 
Greek  guardian's  power  over  his  ward,  for  he  could  dissolve  her 
marriage  at  any  time,  even  against  her  will.  This  had  far- 
reaching  consequences.  A  marriage  that  can  be  revoked  at  any 
time  by  an  Outsider  does  not  confer  the  same  sense  of  perma- 
nence  offered  by  a  marriage  which  is  completely  handed  over 
into  the  care  of  a  personal  relationship  between  husband  and 
wife.  A  marriage  that  can  be  annulled  at  any  time  by  outside 
interference  cannot  develop  the  same  sense  of  personal  close- 
ness,  nor  does  it  allow  the  same  strength  of  mutual  moral 
commitment,  as  the  one  whose  quality  of  worth  depends  com- 
pletely upon  a  mutuality  of  understanding  between  husband  and 
wife.  Thus  Judaismus  abolition  of  continuous  guardianship  over 
women  was  in  itself  a  revolutionary  change  in  their  social  Status. 
It  meant  a  recognition  of  their  maturity  and  gave  them  a  measure 
of  responsibility  for  the  management  of  their  personal  lives.  It 
was  an  indication  of  the  course  to  be  followed  in  the  movement 
towards  a  more  just  recognition  of  the  female  personality. 

The  fact  that  the  negative  opinions  about  Jewish  women  were 
not  unanimous  indicates  that  there  was  another  source  deter- 
mining  woman's  Status.  Much  was  Torah-tolerated,  but  there 
was  also  Torah-guidance.  We  have  already  considered  the  inter- 
pretation  of  the  biblical  words  that  God  made  the  woman  from 
one  of  Adam*s  ribs.  This  took  place  after  God  weighed  the  evil 
consequences  that  would  follow  if  any  other  part  of  the  male 
body  were  used  for  the  purpose.  Yet  it  was  all  to  no  avail.  The 


**Womcf/i  Are?  a  People  by  Theniselves 


As  we  leamed,  ihe  same  words  were  also  inierpreied  as  indicai- 
ing  that  God  gave  women  a  greater  measure  of  understanding 
than  men.  True,  as  we  also  saw,  because  of  the  social  condi- 
tions,  women  had  no  chance  to  develop  their  intellectual  poten- 
tial.  But  the  idea  that  femine  intellect  was  by  its  nature  superior 
to  that  of  the  male  indicates  a  certain  human  dignity  whose 
actualization  was  denied  to  women  by  the  man-made  Status 

allowed  to  them. 

There  are  also  other  considerable  disagreements  between  the 

talmudic  teachers  about  the  nature  of  women.  Relying  on  the 

prophet  Isaiah's  criticism  of  the  public  behavior  of  the  daugh- 

ters  of  Israel  in  his  day,  there  is  an  opinion  that  describes  their 

very  Walking  as  overbearing,  seductive  pride.«^  On  the  other 

band,  in  the  Midrash  Tanhuma  it  is  said:  'The  daughters  of 

Israel  are  not  loud,  neither  do  they  walk  proudly  and  do  not 

break  out  in  hilarity.*'»^  They  are  modest  in  their  behavior.  Or 

as  it  is  also  put:   'The  daughters  of  Israel  are  pleasant."«^ 

According  to  the  Jerusalem  Talmud,  it  is  not  the  way  of  women 

to  be  lazy.8^  There  is  a  world  of  difference  between  this  appre- 

ciation  and  the  insultingly  negative  opinions,  cited  above,  that 

describe  women  as  gluttonous,  docile,  lazy,  and  curious,  and  as 

well,  according  to  Rabbi  Judah,  as  ''given  to  anger,  uncontrolled 

and  talkative.''««  How  different  is  the  evaluation  that  describes 

women  as  merciful.»'  We  have  opinions  that  women  are  more 

ungenerous  towards  guests  than  men.^  But  Rabbi  Yosi  bar 

Hanina,  basing  himself  on  the  words  of  the  Shunammite  woman, 

who  said  to  her  husband  about  Elisha,  "Behold,  please,  I  have 

known  that  he  is  a  God-dedicated,  saintly  man,"  explains: 

"This  shows  that  a  woman  has  more  sensitivity  in  recognizing  a 

guest  than  a  man."^'  We  find  the  same  view  stated  in  simpler 

language:  "The  woman  acknowledges  a  guest  more  readily  than 

the  man. "^2  ^s  for  the  rule  of  woman's  unreliability,  it  could 

not  be  consistently  applied.  The  first  mishnah  in  the  tractate  of 

Hullin  Starts  with  the  words:  "All  may  perform  the  religious 

slaughter  of  animals  [i.e.,  shehitahl  and  their  Performance  is 


••^-.«Si. 


^,^«^^w^»«^^am.•«.5«w^'^t*.i^,^  .^,^,  ^.^ ,^  •ifft.^lMr^ A^^^H- 


',^-.»f^.».^Vj_^;r/.4-#^\J«f  ^Hi,:;.- 


kosher  [i.e.,  in  conformity  with  the  required  laws]."  The  Talmud 
explains  that  mosl  people  who  occupy  themselves  with  slie- 
hitah  are  reliable.  Of  course,  the  Mishnah's  Statement  that  the 
shehitah  of  all  is  acceptable  includes  women.  The  Tosafot, 
commenting  on  this  mishnah,  quotes  the  Hilkhot  Erez  Yisrael, 
which  States  that  women  shoiild  not  do  religious  slaughtering 
because  they  are  ^light-minded/'  i.e.,  emotionaliy  unable  to 
endure  the  act  of  slaughter.  Ilowever,  relying  on  what  is  said  in 
Tractate  Zevahim,'^^  Tosafot  maintains  that  the  imihov  o{  Hilkhot 
Erei  Yisniel  was  only  exprcssing  his  personal  opinion.  Tosalbt 
and  many  other  leading  authorities  reject  this  opinion.'^'*  Never- 
theless,  the  custom  developed  that  women  are  not  permitted  to 
perform  shehitah,  There  were  arguments  as  to  whether  the 
custom  (minhag)  may,  in  this  case,  invalidate  the  halakhah 
(law).''^  It  is  remarkable  that  even  the  insistence  on  the  power  of 
the  minhüf^  could  not  be  consistently  upheld.  In  another  context 
the  question  arises  as  to  why  we  can  rely  on  the  testimony  of 
only  one  woman  that  the  meat  that  she  scrvcs  in  her  home  is 
kosher.  The  answer  given  is  based  on  the  principle  that  the 
testimony  of  one  witness,  which  normally  would  not  be  relied 
on,  is  admitted  if  the  matter  on  which  the  witness  testifies  is  be- 
yado,  i.e.,  in  his  power  to  perform.  Tosafot  remarks  that  since  a 
woman  can  learn  how  to  carry  out  the  ritual  of  slaughtering,  the 
matter  is  be-yadah,  in  her  power.  She  is  therefore  trusted.'^ 
Obviously,  in  the  widest  scnse  of  the  word  the  custom  of  not 
allowing  a  woman  to  do  shehitah  became  baseless. 

In  a  similar  sense,  the  Obligation  of  a  woman  to  do  every  kind 
of  housework  and  also  serve  her  husband  (see  abovc)  was  not 
strictiy  observed.  First  of  all,  there  is  a  dissenting  opinion. 
Referring  to  the  mishnah  listing  the  manifold  duties  of  the  wife, 
It  IS  said:  ^^This  is  not  in  accordance  with  the  opinion  of  Rabbi 
Hiyya,  who  insisted:  ^A  wife  is  only  for  beauty  and  for  the  sake 
of  children.'  Rabbi  Hiyya  also  taught  that  he  who  wishes  his 
wife  to  be  delicate  should  clothc  her  in  fine  linen.'"^^  But  even 
according  to  the  opinion  that  all  the  housework  is  a  woman's 
Obligation,  Maimonides,  basing  himself  on  the  Talmud,  states: 


"Women  Are  a  l'ecpfAe  hy  'Ihemselves"  I  il 

'*  Every thing  is  to  be  done  in  accordance  with  the  custom  of  the 
land.  If  it  is  not  customary  for  women  to  do  those  Jobs,  one 
cannot  force  them  to  carry  them  out.''  Similarly  the  Rosh,  a 
great  halakhic  authority,  quotes  a  halakhic  decision  that  *'now, 
in  our  days,  it  is  not  the  way  of  women  to  mill  and  to  do  laundry ; 
they  cannot  be  compelled  to  do  such  work."  The  Rosh  was 
born  in  1250  and  died  in  1328.  It  is  difficult  to  say  when  the 
practice  he  cites,  the  freeing  of  women  from  certain  onerous 
Jobs,  came  into  existence.  However,  we  find  in  the  Talmud  that 
the  women  in  the  city  of  Mehoza  did  not  mill  or  do  laundry.  The 
custom  of  the  women  in  Mehoza  is  significant.  However,  in  both 
of  the  cases  quoted  above,  the  opinion  of  Rabbi  Hiyya  and  that 
of  Maimonides,  where  such  work  is  not  customary,  it  is  empha- 
sized  that  the  women  were  required  to  weave.^**  These  are 
comments  added  to  the  text  by  the  commentators.  There  is  little 
doubt  that  the  women  of  the  Middle  Ages  were  legally  free  from 
all  kinds  of  housework,  including  weaving.  It  is  very  likely  that 
this  was  also  in  accord  with  the  halakhic  decision  quoted  by  the 
Rosh.^ 


Notes 

1.  Jeremiah  51:30. 

2.  Genesis  5:28. 

3.  See  Rashi,  quotingMidrashTanhuma,  chap.  11. 

4.  Bava  Batra  109b. 

5.  Horayot  I3a. 

6.  Maimonides,  Commentary  on  the  Mishnah,  ibid 

7.  Deuteronomy  8:10. 

8.  Rashi  and  Tosafot  on  Berakhot  20b. 

9.  Shavuot  39a. 

10.  See  Rosh  on  Berakhot  20b. 

11.  Berakhot  17a. 

12.  Hilkhot  Ishut  3:1. 

13.  Deuteronomy  22:13. 

14.  See,  e.g.,  Kiddushin  7b. 

15.  Gittin90a. 


■■''^t^^:l^t(lWf0i''^^^f*^*t''*^^^  ■  •  ■^'  *«ÄSf .  \;4  <v«r»«l:.  ^ttw.fi'  ■     ^'f.^'-- 


36     Je.^un  v^omen  ut  T'uiie  üj-ui  Fur^^A 


ttVM'-V 

.  )Miil)'iii-:l 

A 

iVr.    ,     • 

■i 

m 

'1 

1 

'^W 

1 

i_. 

'1 

•  .*''5T<fe*  ^    ■■-i'ii.' TS »-*'»•#.<>  •-■rtAJ''-AV   ...     *»*■;-•••    ■•  .vi>iu.«>*';''    ..*.»,.    A«. 


r'^' 


'.  !♦♦.'{.*»     ,1 


"Wbm^AZ  Ar^  a  People  by  Themselves'*  I  39 


16.  See  Kctuboi  1  JOb.  39b.  and  Jla.  mainiy  lo'^ut:  Söthh  21a,  s.v. 

17.  Ishui  10:7. 

18.  Keiubot59b. 

19.  Ketubot61a. 

20.  Ishut21:3. 

21.  Ketubot61b. 

22.  Ishut  15:20. 

23.  Kiddushin  31a. 

24.  Yalkut  Shimoni,  Shoftim  4,  end  of  par.  42;  see  also  Even  ha-Ezer 
369,  Rema. 

25.  Ishut  14:17.  « 

26.  Ibid.,  par.  19. 

27.  Ketubot65b. 

28.  Nazir  24,  Gittin  77a,  etc. 

29.  BavaBatra  II  Ib. 

30.  Rashi  to  Kiddushin  20b. 

31.  Rashi  to  Kiddushin  23b,  s.v.  kinyan  d'ishah. 

32.  Menahot43b. 

33.  Exodus  28:2. 

34.  Midrash  Rabbah,  Exodus  28:2. 

35.  Gittin  20b. 

36.  Fol.  7b. 

37.  Sotah20a. 

38.  Yoma  66b;  citing  Exodus  35:25. 

39.  Rashi  onSotah  Ib. 

40.  Yerushalmi,  Ketubot,  chap.  5. 

41.  Kiddushin  80b. 

42.  Rashi,  ibid. 

43.  Ishut  13:11,  citing  Psalms  45:14. 

44.  Eruvin  100b. 

45.  Genesis  1:28. 

46.  Ibid.  34:1. 

47.  Gittin  90a. 

48.  Ketubot  59b. 

49.  Ibid.  72a. 

50.  Genesis  2:22. 

51.  Midrash  Rabbah,  citing  Genesis  18:3. 

52.  Proverbs  1:25. 

53.  Midrash  Rabbah,  Genesis  45:48. 

54.  Kiddushin  49b. 

55.  Sotah  2a. 


n 


56.  Bava  Mezia  87a. 

57.  Shoftim,  chap.  13. 

58.  Pesahim  109b. 

59.  Midrash  Zuta,  Ruth. 

60.  Numbers  27:2-6. 

61.  Sifrei,  ibid.,  citing  Psalms  145:9. 

62.  Berakhot  31a,  citing  I  Samuel  1:1. 

63.  Niddah45b. 

64.  Ibid. 

65.  Genesis  Rabbah  18a. 

66.  Eruvin  100b. 

67.  Sanhedrin  67b. 

68.  Sotah  15b. 

69.  Berakhot  17a. 

70.  Eruvin  64b. 

71.  Talmud  Torah  1:13. 

72.  The  material  presented  here  on  the  Status  of  women  in  classical 
Greece  is  all  from  Sarah  R  Pomeroy,  Goddesses,  Whores,  Wives,  and 
Slaves:  Women  in  Classical  Antiquity, 

73.  Yevamot  63b;  Midrash  Shoher  Tov,  chap.  59. 

74.  Quoted  by  Pomeroy,  op.  cit.,  p.  48. 

75.  Exodus  9:6. 

76.  Deuteronomy  11:13. 

77.  Leviticus  1:2. 

78.  Moreh  Nevukhim  3:32. 

79.  Job  31:13-14. 

80.  Maimonides,  Hilkhot  Avadim,  conclusion,  citing  Deuteronomy 

13:18. 

81.  Leviticus  25:40. 

82.  Deuteronomy  15:14. 

83.  Kiddushin  20a. 

84.  Shabbat. 

85.  Nasso. 

86.  Nedarim  82-89,  Niddah  36. 

87.  Ketubot  5:6. 

88.  Midrash  Genesis  Rabbah  45:46. 

89.  Megillah  18b. 

90.  Bava  Mezia  87. 

91 .  Midrash  Rabbah  10,  citing  II  Kings  4:9. 

92.  Berakhot  10a. 

93.  31b. 

94.  Twr,  Yoreh  De'ah  1. 


f^0lßm^f0i*^gff^.jin^re:^/ 


'»•'.??*»•.  ^ 


.»    '  'ij  ,iX'-,r   r 


i     "*  ,,f '^   K 


.r'^;^^^   ^ j.lr    ^*^    .,^' 


98.  On  Rabbi  Hiyya,  see  Tosafoi,  ibid.;  for  Maimonides.  se«  Ishui 

21. 

99.  Pesahim20b. 


Charter  2 
WOMAN  AS  A  PERSON 

"For  thou  art  a  holy  nation  to  the  Elernal 
One.  your  God."  Rabbi  Elazar  explained: 
"Men  as  wellas  women."  (Yeriishalmi,  Kid- 
dushin I,  7) 

TORAH  IDEALS  AND  TEACHING 

The  examples  discussed  in  the  previous  chapter  are  an  indica- 
tion  that  the  aspect  of  the  wife's  duties  that  brought  her  Status 
dosest  to  that  of  a  servant  was  gradually  disregarded .  The  more 
positive  and  appreciative  opinions  and  practices  undoubtedly 
indicate  that  woman's  Status  gradually  changed  to  something 
far  different  from  the  more  primitive  position  granted  her  in  the 
original  man-made  and  man-dominated  society.  We  are  no 
longer  dealing  with  an  early,  unavoidably  Torah-tolerated 
Status,  but  with  a  transformation  to  a  Torah-directed,  Torah- 
required  Status  based  on  Torah  teaching.  The  teaching  repre- 
sents  a  radical  rejection  of  the  original  maie-determined  and 
male-dominated  Position  of  women. 

We  shall  quote  some  of  the  principles  of  the  teaching.  Rabbi 
Eleazar  said:  "Any  man  who  has  no  wife  is  not  a  man,  for  it 
says  in  the  Torah:  'Male  and  female  He  created  them  and  called 
their  name  Adam.'  "'  Man  and  woman  together  are  a  complete 
Adam.  Rabbi  Helbo  säid:  "One  should  always  be  especially 
carefui  [to  safeguard]  the  honor  of  one's  wife,  for  the  blessing 
in  one's  house  is  found  only  by  the  merit  of  one's  wife."  About 
honoring  one's  wife  it  is  also  said:  "He  who  loves  his  wife  as 
himself  and  honors  her  more  than  himself— of  him  does  the 
Torah  say,  'and  you  will  know  that  there  is  peace  in  your  home, 
etc.'  "^  In  the  same  context,  we  also  find  the  saying:  "He  who 
has  no  wife  lives  without  joy.  without  blessing,  without  the 
goodness  of  life,  [and  finally]  without  life."  This  Statement 

41 


i   I 


v^,.v^^sT«r...K  ^^..\>  mwmtiniftM  »'iimi)^jn(»(nttt.-A' 


'^*v.-»f-  rf  v^  *  ■■^■r''  ?■■*■- 


M'*-M4  9  *  Hf '•«J'> 


42  /  Jewish  Women  in  Time  and  Torah 


assumes  that  the  wife  is  treated  as  expressed  in  the  previous 
sayings.  According  to  the  Jerusalem  Talmud,  on  the  occasion  of 
one's  marriage  all  one's  sins  are  forgiven.^  In  the  same  vein 
Rabbi  Alexander  taught:  **Anyone  whose  wife  dies  during  his 
life,  the  world  itself  is  darkened  for  him/''*  Rav  Samuel  ben 
Nahman  said:  *'Everything  can  be  replaced;  but  for  the  wife  of 
one's  youth  there  is  no  replacement."  It  was  also  taught:  **A 
man  dies  only  for  his  wife;  and  a  woman,  only  for  her  hus- 
band."^  It  was  further  taught:  *'A  person  whose  wife  dies  is 
forbidden  to  remarry  until  the  passing  of  three  festivals,  so  that 
he  will  be  without  any  joy  during  that  period  and  will  not  forget 
the  love  of  his  wife."^  For  all  these  teachings  proofs  are  quoted 
from  Verses  in  the  Torah. 

This  evaluation  of  the  woman' s  importance  has  significant 
halakhic  consequences.  We  may  Start  with  the  halakhic  deter- 
mination  of  certain  questions  pertaining  to  the  wife's  obliga- 
tions.  If  a  wife  refuses  a  husband's  request  that  she  nurse  her 
child,  and  it  is  her  family's  custom  not  to  breast-feed,  we  ruie 
in  her  favor.  However,  what  is  the  law  when  it  is  her  way  to 
breast  feed  but  not  so  in  his  family.  After  whose  custom  is  one 
to  decide?  For  the  decision  that  according  to  her  husband's 
wont  she  is  free  from  this  Obligation  two  reasons  are  given. 
First,  by  her  marriage  she  rises  to  the  social  and  material  Status 
of  her  husband,  but  never  descends  from  her  own  Status.  This 
principle  is  based  on  the  midrashic  interpretation  of  two  words 
in  the  Torah  that  describe  the  Status  of  a  married  woman — 
be'ulat  ba'ai''  which  is  interpreted  in  this  way.  Second,  accord- 
ing to  Rabbi  Eleazar,  the  decision  is  based  on  the  biblical  words 
about  the  nature  of  Eve,  of  whom  it  is  said  that  *'she  was  the 
mother  of  all  the  living"  (i.e.,  all  human  beings).  The  words 
mean  that  the  woman  was  given  *Tor  life  and  not  for  suffering."* 
There  is  little  doubt  that  these  reasons,  which  qualify  and  limit 
the  wife's  original  Obligation,  are  a  breakthrough  toward  a  new 
determination  of  the  woman's  Status.  For  instance,  the  principle 
that  a  wife  rises  to  her  husband's  Status  obliges  him  to  maintain 
her  according  to  his  financial  capacity.^  Whereas  it  was  origi- 


Woman  as  a  Person  I  43 

nally  said  that  preserving  the  man's  life  takes  precedence  over 
preserving  the  woman's,  it  was  later  determined  that  if  a  man 
dies,  and  the  possessions  he  leaves  are  sufficient  for  his  sons 
and  daughters,  the  sons  become  the  heirs  and  the  daughters  are 
supported  from  the  father's  possessions.  If  the  possessions  are 
not  sufficient  for  both  the  sons  and  the  daughters,  however, 
then  the  daughters  are  the  ones  that  inherit  and  the  sons  have 
to  Support  themselves  by  begging.'«  In  the  same  spirit  it  was 
declared  that  if  two  orphans,  one  a  male  and  the  other  a  female, 
have  to  be  supported  by  charity  funds,  the  female  orphan  is  to 
be  provided  for  first,  and  the  male  only  afterwards;  because  it  is 
the  way  of  man  to  go  begging,  but  it  is  not  the  way  of  a  woman 
to  do  so.  The  same  preference  is  given  to  the  female  orphan 
when  two  orphans  have  to  be  married  off.  The  female  is  married 
off  first,  and  then  the  male,  since  a  woman  feels  more  shame  at 
being  unmarried  than  does  a  man.»'  There  is  one  halakhah  in 
which  these  two  earlier  principles  are  disregarded.  We  have 
quoted  the  law  that  if  a  son's  father  and  mother  both  ask  him 
for  a  glass  of  water,  he  has  to  offer  it  to  his  father  first,  then  to 
his  mother;  for  he  and  his  mother  both  have  the  duty  to  honor 
the  father.  The  halakhah  we  will  quote  seems  to  overrule  this 
law  as  well  as  the  one  that  in  matters  of  sustenance  the  male  is 
to  be  given  preference  over  the  woman.  According  to  Tractate 
Horaiyot,'2  jf  a  person  is  in  captivity  together  with  his  father 
and  his  Torah  teacher,  and  all  three  need  to  be  ransomed,  then 
he  comes  before  his  teacher,  and  his  teacher  before  his  father. 
But  if  his  mother  is  also  held  captive,  then  she  is  to  be  given 
preference  over  all  of  them.  Surely,  in  captivity,  the  danger  to 
the  woman  is  more  serious  than  the  danger  to  the  man,  but  if 
sustaining  a  male  alive  is  our  duty,  this  would  seem  all  the  more 
reason  to  ransom  the  male  captive  before  the  female.  Similarly, 
if  we  must  honor  a  father  by  handing  him  a  glass  of  water  first. 
how  much  more  important  would  it  be  to  honor  him  by  giving 
him  preference  over  the  mother  where  his  life  might  be  in 
jeopardy!  Clearly,  this  rule  reflects  Judaism  as  taught  and  pre- 
scribed  and  not  just  Judaism  in  its  toleration  of  ancient  customs. 


**  •'-*'"'^< 


44  /  Jewish  Warnen  in  Time  and  Torah 


•''— ^  •  -        ■*- 


T..-,^"Tr    -^i^'-'-   ,I^Vi-L 


1 

1  Wu 
jflM 

'^ 

ft  ■        I  r 


^        -M» 


rt  >d . : 


moiher,  he  said:  "i  ^\ih\\  siand  bcfore  ihe  Shekhjnah  [divi/ie 
presencej  rhal  has  arrived/'^* 

HALAKHIC  I\\0\ATIO\S 

The  halakhic  consequences  of  this  teaching  were  revolutionary 
and  far-reaching.  According  to  Torah  law,  a  father  has  the  power 
to  give  his  minor  daughter  (up  to  the  age  of  twelve  years  and  six 
months)  in  marriage  to  whomever  he  pleases.  But  the  rabbis 
taught  that  it  is  not  right  to  do  so  and  commanded  that  the  father 
wait  until  the  child  is  mature  enough  to  say:  "This  is  the  one  I 
wish  to  marry/'  Tosafot  exphiins  that  because  of  the  uncertain- 
ties  of  a  galut  existence  we  cannot  afford  to  wait  until  our 
daughters  are  of  age  to  marry,  since  we  may  not  be  able  to 
provide  their  dowries  at  that  time.'^  This  comment  is  significant 
because  it  also  explains  the  reason  for  the  original  law.  The 
father  was  permitted  to  give  a  minor  daughter  in  marriage 
because  conditions  were  such  that  a  female  child  obtained  a 
degree  of  protection  through  marriage  that  she  would  not  have 
in  the  home  of  her  parents.  Vox  a  very  similar  reason  the  ruie 
was  later  established  that  in  the  event  of  the  fathef  s  death,  his 
authority  in  this  matter  passes  to  the  child's  mother  and  broth- 
ers. 

Legally  a  man  has  the  right  to  appoint  a  representative  to  act 
for  him  in  performing  the  marriage  ceremony  of  Kiddushin. 
Rav,  one  of  the  leading  talmudic  teachers  in  Babylon,  ruied  that 
one  must  not  do  so  unless  previously  acquainted  with  the 
intended  bride.  One  should  not  do  so  because  it  is  written: 
**And  thou  shalt  love  your  neighbor  as  yourself."  Without 
having  previously  known  the  bride,  he  might  find  that  he  would 


Woman  as  a  Person  I  45 

iblc  to  love  her."»  The  same  command  of  the  Torah  is  also 
in  Order  to  forbid  sexual  relations  between  husband  and 
wife  in  the  daylighi,  for  in  ihe  Ughl  of  day  ihe  husband  mighl 
discover  bodily  blemishes  on  his  wife  that  would  estrange  him 
from  her.'^ 

Ruies  were  introduced  in  order  to  limit  the  power  of  the 
husband  over  his  wife.  Legally  a  husband  had  the  right  to 
divorce  his  wife  whenever  it  pleased  him  to  do  so.  In  order  to 
curb  the  willfulness  of  husbands,  the  ketubah  (marriage  con- 
tract)  was  introduced.  It  requires  that  a  husband  who  wants  to 
divorce  his  wife  must  pay  her  two  hundred  silver  coins,  a  sum 
not  readily  available  to  most  husbands.  According  to  the  ac- 
cepted  talmudic  view,  the  ketubah  was  instituted  so  that  ''it 
shall  not  be  easy  in  his  eyes  [i.e.,  the  husband's]  to  divorce 
her.'*'*  A  similar  restriction  was  also  placed  on  the  grounds  for 
divorce.  In  the  Mishnah  we  find  that  Bet  Hillel  and  Rabbi  Akiva 
offer  rather  surprising  explanations  to  justify  a  husband's  di- 
vorcing  his  wife.  According  to  the  House  of  Hillel,  the  husband 
may  divorce  her  if  *'she  has  burnt  his  food.''  Rabbi  Akiva 
maintains  that  the  husband's  finding  another  woman  *'more 
pleasing"  is  sufficient  reason  for  a  divorce.  Strangely  enough, 
both  teachers  find  proof  for  these  opinions  in  the  Torah  itself. 
One  may  take  comfort  from  the  fact  that  Bet  Shammai  interpret 
the  relevant  biblical  passage  as  saying  that  '*a  husband  should 
not  divorce  his  wife  unless  he  finds  her  violating  sexual  moral- 
ity."'^  It  is  important  to  note  that  even  though  the  opinions  of 
Bet  Hillel  are  usually  accepted  as  valid  as  against  the  teaching 
of  Bet  Shammai,  in  this  case  the  Halakhah  is  according  to  Bet 
Shammai. 2® 

Even  more  remarkable  are  the  halakhic  innovations  that  were 
introduced  in  order  to  protect  the  wife  from  becoming  an 
agunah,  i.e.,  a  woman  not  divorced  and  thus  bound  to  her 
husband  and  yet  in  fact  having  no  husband  to  live  with.  We  shall 
list  a  number  of  such  cases.  According  to  the  law  of  the  Torah, 
the  husband  is  required  to  pay  the  scribe  for  writing  the  gei 
(divorce  document).  Referring  to  the  Mishnah,  the  Gemara 


'  t'^:'*^'''^''^/*':-'^-'.-*"^^^^^-^ 


1i^^^^^l^tr'P>'^m.bn- 


■.\  ••♦...fv*«  ?»-^i!» A.  '<  m  '^i  t.' ^^■:  y 


-J    vi,. 


about  the  uife's  vflal  inlerests  may  be  understood  from  che 
follovving  slory:  A  childless  vvoman  (afler  ten  years  of  marriage) 
came  before  Rav  Nahman  asking  for  a  get  and  the  payment 
provided  in  the  ketiibah  in  the  event  of  a  divorce.  Rav  Nahman 
told  her  that  since  she  was  dcmanding  the  divorce,  her  husband 
did  not  have  to  pay  her;  shc  had  no  valid  reason  to  request  a 
divorce  because  unh'ke  her  husband,  she  was  not  commanded 
by  the  Torah  to  ''procreate  and  multiply/'  The  woman  replied 
that  she  needed  ''a  cane  |to  lean  on]  in  her  old  age  and  a  spade 
for  her  burial/'"  In  other  words,  she  needed  children  to  support 
and  provide  for  her  in  old  age  and  to  take  care  of  her  biirial. 
The  rabbi  decided  that  in  such  a  case  ''we  certainly  compel 
the  husband''  to  meet  his  wife's  demand.  Certainly,  by  Rav 
Nahman's  time  the  rather  primitive  Status  which  the  Torah  had 
tolcrated — the  view  that  that  woman  was  primarily  a  male- 
servicing  sex  object — had  been  radically  changed.  The  human 
dignity  of  women  had  been  greatly  established  by  means  of  t)ie 
halakhic  institutions  and  innovations  discussed  above.  ^ 

Inhcritance 

> 

Clearly,  the  laws  of  inheritance  could  not  be  maintained  in  their 
original  form.  Originally,  the  biblical  ruies  were  promulgated  in 
response  to  the  complaint  of  the  daughters  of  ZelafTiad  (sce 
above).  They  were  told  that  their  complaint  was  justified,  but 
were  commanded  to  marry  men  of  their  own  tribe  **so  that  the 
estates  given  to  the  tribes  may  not  be  transferred  from  one  tribe 
to  another.  As  for  the  children  of  Israel — everyone  should  hold 
on  to  the  estate  of  his  fathcr.''^"  This  ruiing  was  based  on  social 
and  economic  considerations.  Nevertheless,  it  had  to  be 
changed,  according  to  the  Talmud,  after  the  generation  of  Ze- 
lofhad's  daughters.  The  rabbis  based  their  ruie  on  a  midrashic 
interpretation  of  the  two  words  with  which  the  biblical  com- 
mand  is  introduced:  ve-zch  ha-clavar,  *'this  is  the  matter.''  This 
phrase  was  taken  as  meaning,  '*this  is  the  matter  only  for  the 
present  generation,"  meaning  that  the  tribes  were  permitted  to 


Woman  as  a  Person  I  53 

intermarry  in  subsequent  generations.  The  day  on  which  this 
new  ruiing  was  established  was  the  fifteenth  of  the  month  of  Av, 
of  which  Rabbi  Simeon  ben  Gamliel  said,  "There  were  no 
holidays  in  Israel  that  were  celebrated  like  the  fifteenth  of  Av 
and  the  Day  of  Atonement."^^  Unquestionably,  such  a  reinter- 
pretation  of  the  words  zeh  ha-davar  is  extremely  weak.  We 
assume  that  the  rule  arose  from  the  experience  of  the  people.  In 
actual  practice,  it  became  impossible  to  maintain  the  marital 
Separation  between  the  twelve  tribes.  Gradually,  all  the  other 
laws  of  inheritance  were  adjusted  either  to  practical  require- 
ments  or  in  keeping  with  the  restored  female  dignity  in  the 

Society. 

Another  takkanah  (regulation)  departing  from  the  original  law 
of  inheritance  was  introduced  because  conditions  made  it  nec- 
essary.  According  to  biblical  law,  a  husband  inherits  the  dowry 
of  his  wife,  and  when  the  father  of  a  family  dies,  his  sons  inherit 
his  property,  which  is  shared  out  among  all  of  them.  In  a 
polygamous  society,  this  meant  that  part  of  the  dowry  of  one 
wife  ultimately  passed  over  into  the  hands  of  the  sons  of  another 
wife.  Therefore  fathers  were  not  inclined  to  provide  an  adequate 
dowry  for  their  daughters,  who  remained  unmarried  as  a  result. 
In  Order  to  prevent  this,  the  rabbis  introduced  a  revised  marriage 
contract,  known  as  ketubat  benin  dikhrin,  providing  that  if  the 
wife  died,  her  dowry  would  be  given  only  to  her  own  sons,  and 
the  rest  of  the  father's  property  was  to  be  divided  among  all  his 
sons.  In  essence,  this  reform  was  a  departure  from  Torah  law, 
even  though  the  rabbis  of  the  Talmud  found  a  biblical  reason  for 
it  in  the  Torah's  rule  that  a  father  should  make  an  effort  to 
marry  off  his  daughter.^«  What  is  truly  significant  here  is  that 
time-conditioned  circumstances  made  it  necessary  to  introduce 
an  innovation  that  in  fact  was  a  change  in  the  biblical  law  of 

inheritance. 

Another  rule  of  inheritance  caused  a  great  deal  of  discomfort: 
the  law  that  the  husband  inherits  his  wife  but  she  does  not 
inherit  him.  The  first  limitation  of  the  law  was  introduced  with 
the  decision  that  if  a  wife's  father  insists  prior  to  the  marriage 


-j«*»;wii*"  >»*^ 


■yA  .H'  •V>4V.V<^•f.^r^^A'o'•*^*•^><4^■)r«f)V-.l^i*V•^u■'  N-*t*^'ii     '  NH,-'-.,'*vi..f.  .<!r-^a'»*»  -., 


54  /  Jewish  Women  in  Time  and  Tor  ah 

that  the  husband  shall  not  inherit  his  daughter's  dowry  and 
whatever  eise  he  bestows  upon  her,  his  condition  is  valid  and 
the  husband  does  not  inherit  his  wifc's  property.  Similarly,  if 
the  wife's  father  gave  her  somc  property  after  the  marriage,  on 
the  condition  that  her  husband  have  no  share  in  it  and  not  inherit 
it,  his  condition  is  respected/' 

Another  problem  arose  in  a  case  where  the  wife  died  shortly 
after  the  marriage.  Why  should  the  husband  inherit  her  prop- 
erty? After  all,  her  father  gave  it  to  her  for  her  use.  If  this 
occurred  within  a  year  of  the  marriage,  Rabbenu  Tam  ruied,  the 
dowry  should  be  returned  to  her  father.  Towards  the  end  of  his 
life,  though,  it  appears  that  Rabbenu  Tam  changed  his  mind  in 
this  matter.  Nevertheless,  the  hagaah  (note)  attached  to  the 
Rosh  quotes:^' 

I  have  found  written  by  Rabbenu  Tam  that  he  placcd  a 
herem  [ban]  on  the  Jews  of  France  and  Lombardy,  and 
they  agreed  with  him,  that  if  the  wife  dies  within  a  year  of ' 
her  marriage,  whatever  is  left  of  her  dowry  and  her  jewelry 
should  be  returned  to  those  who  gave  them  to  her  or  to 
her  heirs.  Other  communities  introduced  the  ruie  that  if 
one  of  the  couple  should  die  within  two  years  of  their 
marriage  without  leaving  any  offspring,  half  of  the  dowry 
should  be  returned  to  the  heirs  of  the  departed.^^ 

Even  more  significant  was  the  takkanah  of  the  Community  of 
Toledo,  specifying  that  if  the  wife  died  during  the  lifetime  of  the 
husband,  **and  there  are  healthy  offspring,  whether  a  son  or  a 
daughter  .  .  .  whatever  is  Icft  of  her  property,  the  husband 
should  share  it — half  and  half— with  that  offspring.  When  she 
leaves  no  surviving  descendant,  all  her  remaining  property 
belongs  to  her  husband  and  to  those  who  have  a  right  to  inherit 
her  (by  family  relationship).  The  husband  should  band  over  half 
of  what  he  would  normally  inherit  according  to  biblical  law,  to 
the  one  who  has  the  first  claim  on  her  inheritance."^^  Elsewherc 
the  7i/r  emphasizes  that  since  all  sorts  of  practices  exist,  every- 
thing  is  to  be  decided  in  accordance  with  the  accepted  ruies  in 


Woman  as  a  Person  I  55 

the  various  communities.^^  Even  more  explicit  is  the  Rivash: 
'*In  matters  concerning  the  husband's  right  to  inherit  his  wife, 
every  Community  has  its  own  rules  or  practices.  Everyone  who 
marries  without  making  any  explicit  conditions  does  so  in 
agreement  with  the  acknowledged  takkanah  or  minhag  prevail- 
ing  in  that  Community. "^^  The  Rivash  refers  to  Maimonides  for 

Support. 

What  these  new  regulations  mean  is,  in  essence,  a  departure 
from  the  original  law  that  kol  mah  she-kanah  ishah  kanah 
ba'alah,  i.e.,  whatever  a  wife  acquires  is  acquired  by  her 
husband,  and  whatever  remains  of  her  dowry  he  inherits.  The 
changes  became  necessary  as  an  act  of  fairness  and  justice 
consequent  upon  the  personal  Status  that  the  woman  acquired 
in  changed  condition  and  under  the  influence  of  Torah  teaching. 

Summing  up  the  results  of  our  study  thus  far,  we  have  discov- 
ercd  the  developing  Status  of  women  as  it  passed  through  two 
different  levels:  the  Torah-tolerated  one  and  the  Torah-guided 
and  Torah-instructed  one.  On  the  first  and  Iowest  level,  in  the 
early  man-built  and  man-maintained  society,  woman  is  not 
recognized  as  possessing  her  own  personality.  At  this  stage  she 
is  merely  an  impersonal  adjunct  to  the  male.  It  is  the  Torah- 
teaching  that  recognizes  her  in  her  own  personal  existence  and 
establishes  her  human  dignity  in  a  world  in  which  she  has  her 
own  vitally  important  place  because  of  her  own  life-related 
nature.  Only  on  the  impersonal  level  can  there  be  a  rule  permit- 
ting  a  husband  to  say  to  his  sick  wife,  *^Here  is  your  ketubah. 
heal  yourself  with  its  monetary  value  or  eise  I  will  divorce 
you,''  when  he  sees  that  her  medical  bills  would  cause  him  great 
monetary  loss.^^  Only  when  a  wife  is  the  property  of  her 
husband,  acquired  because  of  the  Services  she  can  perform,  can 
such  a  regulation  be  legally  justified.  On  the  other  hand,  on  the 
level  of  woman's  Torah-directed  personal  Status,  such  a  rule 
would  violate  fundamental  ethical  principles  of  the  Torah.  Our 
Problem  today  is  that  the  Torah-directed  personal  Status  has  not 
as  yet  completely  overcome  some  Clements  that  have  survived 


1*1 


I 


56  /  Jew'ish  Women  in  Time  and  Torah 


from  the  earlier  period.  Nothing  shows  this  more  convincingly 
than  the  way  in  which  Maimonides  combined  some  essential 
features  of  the  personal  and  the  impersonal  Status.  We  have 
learned  of  the  rabbinical  command  to  love  one's  wife  as  onescif 
and  honor  her  more  than  oneself.  We  also  noted  the  wife's  duty 
to  look  up  to  her  husband  as  to  a  prince  and  take  care  of  all  his 
needs.This  is  the  formiilation  of  Maimonides: 

And  thus  have  oiir  sages  commanded  that  a  man  should 
honor  his  wife  more  than  himself  and  love  her  as 
himself.  .  .  .  And  Ihus  have  they  also  commanded  the  wife 
that  she  honor  her  husband  **more  than  enough/'  that  the 
fear  of  him  should  be  upon  her,  and  that  all  her  work 
should  be  done  in  accordance  with  his  instruction;  he 
should  be  in  her  eyes  like  a  prince  or  a  king  who  may  act 
as  he  desires;  she  should  also  remove  from  before  him 
everything  that  is  hatefui  to  him,  etc/^ 

It  is  difficult  to  understand  why  Maimonides  did  not  see  the 
contradiction  between  thcse  two  commands.  How  can  a  hus- 
band who  loves  and  honors  his  wife,  as  indicated,  want  her  to 
fear  him,  to  look  up  to  him  as  if  he  were  a  prince  simply  because 
he  happens  to  be  her  husband,  and  to  remove  from  his  presence 
everything  that  might  displease  him?  The  truth  is  that  the  two 
principles  are  mutually  cxciusive:  either  you  love  your  wife  as 
yourself  and  honor  her  more  than  yourself,  or  you  demand  that 
she  regard  you  as  her  lord  and  master,  and  serve  you  accord- 
ingly. 


Notes 

1 .  Yevamot  63a,  citing  Genesis  3:2. 

2.  Yevamot  62b. 

3.  Bikkurim  1:5. 

4.  Menahot  22. 

5.  Ibid., '22b. 


..':V,«i»'/^»i>--%j(  «h.  p7f^ 


Woman  as  a  Person  I  57 


6.  Tosafot  to  Mo'ed  Katan  23a. 

7.  Genesis  20:3. 

8.  Ketubot6la. 

9.  E.g.,  Maimonides,  Ishut  11:12. 

10.  BavaBatra  139b. 

11.  Ketubot67b. 

12.  Fol.  13. 

13.  Ketubot  103. 

14.  Kiddushin  31a. 

15.  Tosafot,  Kiddushin  41a,  s.v.  keshehi\  for  the  ruling  in  the  case  of 

the  father's  death,  see,  e.g.,  Yevamot  107b. 

16.  Kiddushin  41a. 

17.  Niddah  17a. 

18.  Kiddushin  IIa. 

19.  Gittin90a. 

20.  Maimonides,  Gerushin  2:27. 

21.  BavaBatra  167a. 

22.  Gittin  20a. 

23.  Ibid. 

24.  See  Magid  Mishnah,  Gerushin  2:4. 

25.  Gittin  19b. 

26.  Ibid.  26a. 

27.  Ibid.  26b. 

28.  Yevamot  99a. 

29.  Maimonides,  Gerushin  13,  end. 

30.  Ketubot  77a. 

31.  Gerushin  2:20. 

32.  Ishut  14:8. 

33.  Ketubot  63b,  s.v.  abal  amra, 

34.  Ibid. 

35.  Responsa,  see.  8.  A  detailed  discussion  of  the  entire  subject  will 
be  found  in  my  Ha-Halakhah  Kohah  ve-Tafkidah.  pp.  136-143. 

36.  Gittin  33a;  also,  e.g.,  Yevamot  90b  and  Gittin  73a.  An  extensive 
discussion  of  this  subject  will  be  found  in  my  Tenai  be-Nissuln  u-ve- 

Get. 

37.  Yevamot  65b. 

38.  Numbers  36:6-7. 

39.  Ta'anit  26b. 

40.  Ketubot  52b. 

41.  Gittin  77a,  Nazir24b. 

42.  Ketubot  47. 

43.  Tur,  Even  ha-Ezer  118,  beginning. 


mm^.^m^^^-^'W^'^iH-'^^i^^' '.' 


58  I  Jewish  Women  in  Time  and  Torah 

44.  Ibid.,  chap.  57. 

45.  Responsa,  no.  64. 

46.  Maimonides,  hhut  14:  J8.  as  above. 

47.  Jshut  15:19-20. 


Charter  3 
^' IN  THE  MIDST  OF  MY  PEOPLE  I  DWELL" 

(II  Kings  2:13) 


It  is  our  task  to  eliminate  whatever  remains  from  the  Torah- 
toleraled,  impersonal  phase  and  to  establish  woman's  Status 
completely  on  the  Torah-taught  and  prescribed  personal  level. 
It  is  obvious  that  the  talmudic  opinions  regarding  the  inadequate 
intelligence  of  women  no  longer  have  any  validity.  The  view 
that  a  woman's  knowledge  extends  only  to  the  spindle  might 
have  applied  in  a  society  which  provided  women  with  only  a 
limited  education,  but  it  does  not  hold  today.'  It  is  true  that  the 
Statement  was  supported  by  a  verse  in  the  Bible.  When  the 
Tabernacle  was  bcing  built  in  the  wildcrness,  "every  woman, 
wise  at  heart,  was  weaving  with  her  hands,  etc.*'^  Indeed,  that 
was  the  only  significant  contribution  to  the  building  of  the 
Tabernacle  that  women  were  able  to  make  at  the  time.  But 
certainly  the  Bible  did  not  State  that  women  in  all  generations 
to  come  would  remain  incapable  of  acquiring  other  knowledge 
and  other  abilities.  The  rabbinic  view  was  a  completely  time- 
conditioned,  midrashic  interpretation.  It  teils  us  what  Rabbi 
Eliezer  thought  about  women,  but  we  know  now,  from  actual 
experience,  that  the  intelligence  of  women  is  not  below  that  of 
their  male  counterparts.  In  fact,  today's  women  study  and  learn 
and  acquire  expertise  in  many  of  the  intellectual  and  academic 
disciplines.  Rabbi  Eliezer's  Statement  that  one  should  not  teach 
Torah  to  one's  daughter  because  she  will  craftily  misuse  her 
knowledge  has  lost  all  its  meaning.  With  the  comprehensive 
education  they  receive,  present-day  girls  and  women  are  in  no 

59 


f  ■Ä'^I*IKC*»  V  *.»<•. W|!"W«*,V^/i«-  -h  /■  -, 


~f---        f    T>J  *    >. 


»  ».^M|^>> 


-»-^  < .  j'"»v 


■V..«r,vi'.Vjrfi«^, 


6»)     Je^.isn  Aornen  w.  Juce  unJ  Jjrun 

need  of  Torah  study  in  order  ro  acr  cunn/ngly,  if  they  so  desire. 
On  the  contrary,  it  is  jusr  because  of  (heir  general  education 
that  they  should  study  Torah  comprehensively  and  in  depth.  so 
that  they  may  integrate  their  secular  knowledge  into  a  Torah- 
taught  world-view  of  meanings  and  values. 

It  may  be  helpfui  at  this  juncture  to  take  a  closer  look  at 
Rabbi  Eliezer's  view  of  women.  The  story  is  told  that  a  wise 
woman  asked  Rabbi  Eliezer  the  following  question:  "Why  were 
different  punishments  meted  out  for  one  and  the  same  sin,  that 
of  the  golden  calf?''  Rabbi  Eh'czer  did  not  answer  the  question, 
and  put  her  off  with  the  words  quoted  earher:  **A  woman  can 
have  no  other  understanding,  cxcept  to  work  at  weaving."  This, 
however,  is  only  the  first  part  of  the  story.  In  the  Jerusalem 
Talmud,  Hyrcanus,  Rabbi  Eliezer's  son,  asked  his  father  why 
he  had  refused  to  answer  the  woman's  question.  Upon  which 
we  hear  the  surprising  answer:  '^May  the  words  of  the  Torah  be 
burned  rather  than  be  handcd  over  to  women. ''^  Words  like 
these  Show  that  women,  for  Rabbi  Eliezer,  were  utterly  unreli- 
able.  How  widespread  this  opinion  was  may  be  judged  from  the 
fact  that  the  majority  of  the  talmudic  sages  disagree  with  Rabbi 
Eliezer.  And  yet,  contrary  to  the  generally  accepted  principle 
that  Halakhah  is  to  be  decided  according  to  the  majority  opin- 
ion, in  this  case,  the  opinion  of  the  majority  was  disregarded, 
and  Rabbi  Eliezer's  view  prevaiied  practically  until  our  own 
days.  As  we  have  indicated,  the  time  has  come  to  disregard 
completely  the  minority  teaching. 

In  essence,  the  issue  is  inseparable  from  the  idea  of  trust.  As 
we  have  shown  above,  woman  was  not  trusted  on  the  impersonal 
level  in  matters  of  property  or  in  sexual  behavior.  Obviously, 
the  law  that  whatever  a  wife  acquires  is  eo  ipso  acquired  by  her 
husband,  because  otherwise  she  might  steal  from  him  and  claim 
that  she  has  found  it,  has  become  not  only  meaningless  but 
offensively  uncthical.  The  twofold  lack  of  trust  was  justified  on 
the  impersonal  level.  One  may  trust  only  a  person,  a  human 
being,  whom  one  respects  or  loves.  As  we  learned,  the  ruie  was 


''In  the  Midst  ofMy  People  l  Dwell"  I  61 

that  '*a  husband  should  not  allow  his  wife  to  leave  the  house 
more  than  once  in  a  month,  or — if  necessary — on  a  few  more 
occasions,*'  the  reason  being  that  '*the  beauty  of  a  woman  lies 
in  her  sitting  in  a  corner  of  her  house,  for  so  it  is  written,  'the 
honor  of  a  king's  daughter  is  within.'  ''^  I  doubt  whether  there 
is  a  Single  religious  family  today  in  which  the  **king's  daughter'' 
conducts  herseif  accordingly.  In  our  time,  such  a  ruIe  would 
turn  the  home  into  a  prison  for  the  wife.  Women  today  have  the 
opportunity  to  ''grow  up,"  to  develop  their  potential;  they 
possess  a  measure  of  self-respect;  they  have  a  place  and  func- 
tion  in  public  life.  In  a  mixed  society  in  which  the  female 
Personality  is  respected,  not  every  contact  between  man  and 
woman  has  sexual  significance.  If  the  Talmud  says  that  '*  women 
are  a  people  by  themselves,"^  it  gives  expression  to  their 
Separation  from  the  life  and  work  of  society.  It  is  a  radical 
summing  up  of  the  impersonal  condition  of  women  as  servile 
adjuncts  to  the  male  world.  They  are  exciuded  because  they  are 
seen  essentially  in  their  femininity.  In  this  condition,  every 
contact  with  them  is  seductive. 

The  point  is  well  illustrated  by  the  well-known  saying  of 
Samuel,  who  declared:  kol  be-ishah  ervah,  *'the  voice  of  a 
woman  is  unchastity."^  The  way  this  Statement  is  formulated  is 
worthy  of  attention.  It  does  not  say  that  a  woman's  voice  is 
unchaste.  That  would  mean  that  one  must  not  speak  to  a  woman 
at  all.  Therefore,  SamuePs  law  is  rendered  as  follows  in  the 
Shulhan  Arukh:  "One  should  take  care  not  to  hear  the  singing 

* 

voice  of  a  woman  at  the  time  of  the  recitation  of  the  Shema 
Israel  [Hear,  0  Israel]  prayer."«  Obviously,  the  idea  is  that 
because  of  the  sexual  quality  of  her  voice,  one  would  be  unable 
to  concentrate  on  the  Shema.  The  Rema  rightly  adds  the  com- 
ment:  ''However,  her  regulär  voice  is  not  indecent.''  (The  term 
ervah  applies  only  to  a  married  woman.  Accordingly,  one  would 
be  forbidden  to  listen  to  the  singing  of  a  married  woman  but  not 
to  that  of  an  unmarried  one.  However,  regarding  the  Shema, 
one  should  not  listen  to  the  singing  of  any  woman.)  It  is 


*:x^}s*'- 


'.-*^'-  -v*-*'^-^- 


•V  TipK^t^ 


'  WC~'^^.*.-4,«?«-<#«-  Vf^x  ■ 


li^v.  **«  -^  ^-ik-f-^cfvrf  f^^,(.i^4.., .. :  Ai^*  --.  ••:','  ,f  • 


't.'t*^iff^^»^^'i>im*i^  ^t:r*\r.<*  .,■• 


Aj/-^  ->^,^ 


■'     .r-^.   -rtt-w-WK- 


10 


62  /  yc^t'M'//  Wr;/?k^/j  ///  Time  ancl  Torah 

noteworthy  that   the  phrase  kol  be-ishah   (^^the   voice  in  a 
woman-)  is  parallel  to  the  saying  of  Rav  Hisda:  shok  be-ishah 
ervah,  ''the  naked  thigh  of  a  woman  is  ervakr""  In  other  words, 
to  listen  to  the  singing  of  a  woman  is  as  indecent  as  to  view  her 
naked  thigh.  One  cannot  help  wondering  how  the  sexual  impli- 
cations  of  the  two  acts  could  ever  have  been  considcred  equal. 
AI  the  same  time,  one  cannot  overlook  the  fact  that  (he  words 
in  the  Song  of  Songs  (Shir  ha-Shirim)  lipon  which  Samuel  bases 
his  Statement  have,  indeed,  a  sensuai  meaning.  The  lovcr  says 
to  his  beloved:  'Tet  me  see  thy  countenance,  let  me  hear  thy 
voice;  for  sweet  is  thy  voicc,  and  thy  countenance  is  comely.'' 
And  in  the  same  context:  '^My  beloved  is  mine,  and  I  am  his.'^ 
This,  of  course,  is  not  an  everyday  occurrence.  It  is  hardly 
believable  that  Samuel  should  have  turned  the  words  'Tor  sweet 
is  your  voice''  out  of  their  specific  meaning,  spoken  in  a  highly 
amorous  Situation,  and  atthbutcd  their  quality  to  the  voice  of 
every  woman  all  the  time  and  in  every  Situation. 

There  is  only  one  explanation:  On  the  impersonal  level  öf 
exciusion  from  society,  woman's  character  appears  foremost  in 
her  sensuality.  Thus,  every  contact  with  her  has  an  dement  of 
sexual  seduction.  All  this  no  longer  has  any  validity  in  an  agc 
when,  on  the  basis  of  Torah  ideals,  woman  has  been  acknowl- 
edged  in  her  personal  humanity  and  has  been  integrated  into  the 
comprehensive  structure  of  human  existence.  Nowadays,  the 
singing  ofa  woman  is  not  fundamcntally  different  from  what  the 
original   Halakhah  termed  "her  regulär  voice."  A   woman's 
voice,  even  when  she  is  singing,  is  nothing  unusual  today,  and 
it  is  no  more  distracting  during  the  Shema  prayer  than  that  ofa 
man  singing.  Only  in  specific  amorous  situations  as  in  the  Song 
of  Songs,  may  it  have  a  sensuai  quality. 

In  the  same  way,  a  numbcr  of  other  Statements  about  women 
no  longer  apply.  As  we  saw,  one  of  the  most  negative  sayings 
about  women  is  found  in  the  Midrash:  "Women  are  not  capable 
of  teaching,  nor  may  one  rely  on  their  words.""  A  statcment 
like  this  should  be  disregarded.  It  might  have  been  justified  in 


''In  the  Midst  ofMy  People  I  Dwell"  I  63 

its  time,  but  today  the  words  of  women  are  no  less  reliable  than 
those  of  men.  Nor  is  there  any  reason  to  claim  that  women  who 
have  the  right  kind  of  education  and  learning  are  incapable  of 
teaching.  Similarly,  it  may  once  have  been  justifiable  for  the 
Talmud  to  say  that  women  should  not  teach  children,  because 
this  would  would  bring  them  into  contact  with  their  fathers,*^ 
but  we  have  now  reached  a  stage  in  which  the  numerous  daily 
contacts  between  men  and  women  are  free  of  seductive  quali- 
ties,  and  as  a  result  this  ruie,  too,  has  lost  its  meaning.  In  light 
of  all  this,  there  is  little  doubt  that  woman's  Status,  both  in 
marriage  and  in  society,  has  to  be  revised.  There  is  ample 
precedent  for  doing  so. 

Let  US  consider  some  further  halakhic  consequences  of  the 
new  Situation.  As  we  have  already  seen,  the  husband's  power 
over  his  wife  was  curbed  and  limited  in  several  areas.  A  husband 
might  be  required  to  divorce  his  wife  by  his  own  "free  will" 
when  the  wife  could  not  be  expected  to  continue  to  remain  with 
him.  In  such  cases,  the  Beth  Din  would  force  the  husband  until 
he  was  ready  to  agree  to  give  his  wife  the  desired  get  of  his  own 
"free  will."  This  Solution  was  applied  even  when  the  wife 
declared  that  her  only  reason  for  desiring  a  divorce  was  incom- 
patibility  between  the  two  of  them.  Moreover,  there  are  cases 
where,  because  of  the  husband's  disregard  of  rabbinical  ruies  or 
violations  of  generally  accepted  canons  of  behavior,  the  mar- 
riage was  retroactively  annulled. 

In  our  days,  the  Situation  in  matters  of  divorce  is  intolerable. 
In  numerous  cases,  after  a  marriage  has  broken  down,  the 
husband  exploits  his  power  either  to  refuse  to  give  his  wife  a  get 
altogether  or  to  dictate  onerous  conditions,  especially  in  regard 
to  property  or  money.  This  causes  a  great  deal  of  suffering  for 
many  wives.  The  injustice  involved  is  extremely  serious  and 
represents  a  hillul  Hashem,  a  desecration  of  the  divine  name. 
The  cases  described  above  should  be  treated  as  precedents  to 
follow  in  our  own  time.  In  my  Tenai  be-Nissuin  u-ve-Get,  I 
have  shown  that  there  is  ample  halakhic  basis  for  the  inclusion 


.'^,-^tP!Sm»;-.*rwyt . 


i 


t   ; 


^^^f. 


>     *^. 


^  -  rf><' ^-*- -  •'i»  >* 


>-»3<P-     i- 


-♦*^        i4 


coriJirioni.  ine  n'i-üna^c  ceco*7iei 


^'iiiuueJ  rccruaciiwei/ 


^'^ed 


A  si/ni'lar  re\  ision  is  needed  regarding  ihe  propeny  rights  of 
ihe  ujfe.  In  this  area,  too,  rhere  is  ampJe  halakhic  precedent. 
Quite  cleariy,  as  we  saw  in  ihe  preceding  chapters,  the  original 
biblical  law  of  inheritance,  according  to  which  only  sons  inherit 
the  father,  was  justified  in  the  era  when  the  land  was  divided 
among  the  tribes  of  the  children  of  Israel.  Had  daughters  been 
entitied  to  inherit,  intertribal  marriages  would  have  led  to  the 
accumulation  of  large  shares  of  the  land  by  some  tribes  to  the 
detriment  of  others.  Since  the  dispersion  of  the  tribes  from  the 
land  of  Israel  and  the  destruction  of  the  State,  this  law  no  longer 
apph'es.  However,  another  law  of  inheritance  requires  a  review. 
As  we  learned,  in  case  of  the  wife's  death,  the  husband  inherits 
her  property;  e.g.,  her  dowry.  On  the  other  hand,  she  does  not- 
inherit  her  husband's  estate.  As  to  the  first  law,  we  noted  that  it 
was  gradually  eroded  and  finally  disregarded.  Already  in  the 
Talmud,  it  was  determined  that  a  father  could  make  a  premarital 
condition  that  the  husband  would  not  inherit  what  he  gave  his 
daughter  on  her  marriage.  Similariy,  even  though  the  ruie  was 
that  whatever  a  woman  acquired  was  acquired  by  her  husband, 
there  was  an  important  exception  to  this  ruIe.  People  could  give 
her  gifts  or  any  kind  of  property  with  the  condition  that  her 
husband  have  no  share  in  it.  Later  on,  after  the  conclusion  of 
the  Talmud,  we  found  that  in  various  communities  all  kinds  of 
takkanot  (regulations)  were  introduced  which  limited  the  valid- 
ity  of  the  husband's  right  to  his  wife's  property.  Of  course,  all 
this  was  done  prior  to  the  marriage,  so  that  the  husband  was 
familiär  with  the  terms  and  accepted  them.  Even  after  the 
marriage  there  was  a  way  of  disregarding  the  husband's  claim 
to  her  inheritance.  Nachmanides  decided  that  the  wife  could 
make  a  condition  that  after  her  husband  inherited  her  he  would 
turn  the  inheritance  over  to  her  heirs.  Finally  we  reach  the 


m 


( I 


///  the  Midst  ofMy  People  I  Dwell"  I  65 


summation;  **IIowcvcr  in  cvery  Community  iherc  arc  takkanot 
and  mlnhanln,  Vcgulalions  and  customs/  in  thcsc  matters; 
gencrally,  anyonc  who  marrics  does  so  in  accordance  with  the 
customs  and  practices  among  them,  as  already  Maimonides 
determined  it.'*'^  All  of  this  was  in  keeping  with  the  ruIe  that 
before  the  marriage  it  was  possible  to  make  the  condition  that 
would  eliminate  the  husband's  right  to  inherit  his  wife. 

As  for  the  other  aspect  of  the  law  of  inheritance,  determining 
that  the  wife  does  not  inherit  her  husband's  property,  it  is 
undoubtedly  a  survival  from  the  era  of  woman's  impersonal, 
subservient  Status.  Accordingly,  the  sons  inherit  the  father's 
property  and  from  it  are  to  support  their  widowed  mother.  Can 
such  a  law  be  maintained  with  good  conscience  in  a  society  in 
which  the  husband  is  taught  to  love  his  wife  as  himself  and 
honor  her  more  than  himself?  How  can  it  be  reconciled  with  the 
warning  that  Rabbi  Judah  ha-Nasi  gave  his  sons  on  his  deathbed. 
to  '*take  extreme  care  regarding  the  honor  of  your  mother,''  or 
the  words  of  Rabbi  Joseph  who,  when  he  heard  his  mother's 
footsteps,  Said,  **I  shall  stand  before  the  divine  presence  that 
has  arrived.''  Quite  cleariy,  different  legal  arrangements  are 
needed  for  determining  property  rights  in  marriage  as  well  as  in 
matters  of  inheritance  in  the  case  of  the  death  of  the  wife  or  the 
husband.  All  this  is  possible  in  accordance  with  the  Halakhah; 
for  in  monetary  matters  conditions  agreed  upon  by  the  parties 
concerned  are  legally  valid.  Normally,  one  would  say  that  in 
this  area  the  law  of  the  country  should  prevail,  in  accord  with 
the  principle  oidina  demalkhuta  dina,  i.e,  the  law  of  the  country 
is  halakhically  acknowledged  law.  But,  of  course,  it  is  conceiv- 
able  that  both  parties  will  agree  upon  specific  conditions  in 
certain  individual  cases. 

Certain  halakhic  ruies  regarding  the  function  of  women  in 
public  life  also  require  revision.  According  to  Halakhah,  a 
woman  is  not  admitted  as  a  witness.  We  saw,  at  least  in  one 
case,  that  an  exception  was  made  in  order  to  protect  a  wife 
against  becoming  an  agunah.  We  also  noted  Maimonides'  expla- 


i  1 


I 


V.    I 


*  I 


( 


.*?><•*.„     ,.?',  .•i«SKN>.vr,;.,"'>4.V,.-.v»  +r»"?(;f.r'>-^^/'" 


O.r*'   '* 


66  /  Jewish  Women  in  Time  and  Torah 

nation  that  all  the  exceptions  in  this  case  (i.e.,  one  witness,  etc.; 
see  above)  could  be  made  because  the  purpose  of  the  law  about 
witnesses  was  to  establish  the  truth.  In  the  case  in  which  the 
exceptions  were  allowed,  it  was  reasonable  to  assume  that  an 
otherwise  not  accepted  testiniony  was  reliable.  We  must  ask 
ourselves  whether  it  is  reasonable  to  believe  that  today  a  wo- 
man's  testimony  would  still  be  less  reliable  than  a  man's?  We 
have  determined  that  the  slatement  that  the  words  of  women 
are  not  reliable  no  longer  has  any  truth  value.  Today's  women 
have  a  comprehensive  education,  including  thorough  Torah 
study,  are  active  professionally,  and  are  acknowledged  in  their 
own  Personalities:  they  are  clearly  no  less  trustworthy  than 
men. 

It  is  true  that  the  exciusion  of  women  from  appearing  as 
witnesses  is  based  on  a  verse  in  the  Torah. '^  However,  thcre  is 
a  very  important  precedent  for  the  acceptance  of  a  woman  as  a 
judge — Deborah.  Tosafot  asks  how  Deborah  could  be  a  judge,, 
since  someone  who  is  disqualified  as  a  witness  cannot  be  a 
judge. '^  The  answer  given  is:  *'Most  likely  she  could  function  as 
a  judge  because  the  peoplc  accepted  her  on  account  of  the 
Shekhinah  [divine  presence]  that  was  with  her.'*  It  is  important 
to  understand  that  it  was  not  (he  presence  of  the  Shekhinah  that 
qualified  her.  The  Shekhinah  was  the  reason  why  the  pcople 
accepted  her  and  submitted  to  her  authority.  Her  acceptance  by 
the  people  was  decisive.  It  was  the  people  from  whom  she 
derived  her  authority. 

Such  is,  indeed,  the  Halakhah.  People  have  the  right  to 
appoint  someone  as  a  judge  over  them  or  to  trust  him  as  a 
witness,  even  though  normally  he  would  not  be  qualified  for 
those  tasks.  A  person  has  the  right  to  submit  himself  to  an 
unqualified  judge  or  witness.  A  father  cannot  judge  for  a  son, 
neither  in  his  favor  nor  against  him.  Yet  in  a  case  that  requires 
legal  judgment,  if  one  party  is  willing  to  accept  his  own  father 
or  the  other  party's  father  as  a  judge,  then  either  father,  as  the 
case  may  be,  has  the  authority  to  function  for  the  two  parties  as 
a  judge  whose  decision  is  binding.  In  fact,  in  many  communities 


I  < 


In  the  Midst  ofMy  People  I  Dwell"  I  67 


in  which  courts  were  established  to  ruie  in  matters  of  communa! 
concern,  it  was  also  customary,  as  a  ruIe,  to  allow  even  relatives 
to  testify  in  matters  of  communal  interest.'^  Not  to  admit  women 
as  witnesses  on  the  basis  of  their  acceptance  by  the  Community 
of  the  Jewish  people  would  be  to  exciude  them  from  the  male 
World.  However,  as  we  determined  above,  the  principle  of 
exciusion  has  lost  its  validity  in  the  phase  of  women's  Torah- 
taught  personal  Status.  Indeed,  in  view  of  women's  share  in 
social  life  and  their  role  in  it,  the  exclusively  male  world  does 

not  exist  any  longer. 

The  same  holds  for  the  question  of  appointing  women  to 
public  Offices.  The  Torah  says:  'Thou  shalt  appoint  a  king  over 
you."'^  The  Sifrei  comments:  "A  king  but  not  a  queen."  This 
rule  became  the  law.  A  woman  could  not  ruIe  as  queen.  Mai- 
monides  adds:  'Thus,  all  appointments  in  Israel  are  to  be 
male."'^  Maimonides  combines  the  appointment  of  kings  with 
other  Offices  of  authority,  even  though  the  Bible  only  mentions 
the  Office  of  the  king.  Obviously,  he  feit  that  both  have  the  same 
reason.  According  to  the  Kesef  Mishneh.'^  the  source  for  this 
rule  was  the  mishnah  in  Kiddushin  which  states  that  all  dealings 
with  women  (in  all  kinds  of  work  activities)  lead  to  evil  prac- 

tices.2® 

Once  again  we  are  up  against  ** women  being  a  people  by 
themselves,''  which  has  been  completely  overturned  now  that 
woman's  Torah-prescribed  personal  existence  has  ended  her 
seclusion  in  a  corner  of  her  home  as  befits  a  princess.  What  is 
more,  public  offices  today  are  fundamentally  different  from 
what  they  were  in  the  age  of  the  Israelite  monarchy.  The  king 
was  appointed  by  the  Sanhedrin  and  a  prophet.  He  was  an 
absolute  monarch,  not  accountable  to  the  people.  And  all  ap- 
pointments derived  their  authority  from  the  monarchic  order.  It 
is  important  to  pay  carefui  attention  to  the  exact  biblical  text  in 
this  matter.  It  reads:  '^Appoint  a  king  over  you'';  the  king  was 
appointed  to  be  above  the  people.  And  similarly  all  the  Iower 
dignitaries  in  this  monarchial  System  were  appointed  to  rule 
above  the  people.  Today,  there  are  ruies  and  regulations  for  all 


1? 


H 


.*  '•"**h--<' 


68  /  Jewish  Warnen  in  Time  and  Torah 

public  Offices  whose  authorily  derives  from  the  will  of  the 
people.  Public  officials  function  on  the  basis  of  their  acceptance 
by  the  people.  As  we  saw,  such  acceptance  has  validity  with  the 
Support  of  the  halakhic  System  of  Judaism.  There  is  a  surprising 
precedent  for  a  woman  being  active  in  public  affairs.  The 
prophet  Elisha  wished  to  express  his  gratitude  to  the  Shunna- 
mite  for  the  generous  hospitality  she  had  extended  to  him.  In 
her  presence,  he  had  his  young  servant  say  to  her:  '*Behold, 
you  have  so  anxiously  taken  care  of  us.  What  can  we  do  for 
you?  Is  there  anything  you  would  have  us  talk  to  the  king  about, 
or  to  the  head  of  the  army?''  Her  answer  was:  ''I  dwell  in  the 
midst  of  my  people,"  which  the  Targum  Yonatan  renders:  ''I 
am  engaged  in  the  affairs  of  my  people  [i.e.,  and  carry  the 
bürden  of  the  Community]. '^^i  xhis  indeed  should  be  the  essence 
of  women's  Status  today  in  Judaism:  I  live  in  the  midst  of  my 
people  and  take  my  share  in  caring  for  the  communal  needs  in 
accordance  with  my  ability. 


'7m  the  Midst  ofMy  People  I  Dwell"  I  69 


Notes 

1.  Yoma  66b. 

2.  Exodus  35:25. 

3.  See  above;  also  Sotah  21b;  e.g.,  Rashi's  explanation, 

4.  Sotah  3:4. 

5.  Maimonides,  Ishut  14:1 1. 

6.  Shabbat  62b. 

7.  Berakhot  24a. 

8.  Chap.  75,  par.  35. 

9.  Berakhot  24a. 

10.  Song  2:44. 

11.  Midrash  Numbers  Rabbah  10. 

12.  Kiddushin  84a. 

13.  Rivash,  Responsa,  no.  64. 

14.  Shevuot  30a. 

15.  Bava  Kama  15a. 

16.  See,  e.g.,  Rashba,  Responsa,  680. 

17.  Deuteronomy  17:14. 


18.  Melakhim  1:4. 

19.  Ibid. 

20.  Kiddushin  82b. 

21.  See  Pahad  Yitzhak,  s.v.  zibbiir. 


iWrl 


110/  Jewish  Women  in  Time  and  Tor  ah 

know  that  he  is  a  very  hard  man.  She  cannot  endure  him 
because  of  (he  many  quarreis;  he  also  starves  her,  so  that  she 
actually  hates  life  itself/'  His  ansvver  was:  "He  should  let  her 
go  and  pay  her  the  value  of  the  ketubah,  for  ue  practice  Ihe 
principle  that  a  'woman  was  created  for  life  and  not  for  suffer- 
ing'  [based  on  the  biblical  explanation  of  the  name  Eve:  'For 
she  was  the  mother  of  all  living*].''^^  The  Tashbaz  furthcr 
strengthcns  his  argiimenl  by  adding:  *'A  pcrson  cannot  live 
together  with  a  snake  in  one  basket.  .  .  .  quarreling  in  the  house 
is  more  difficult  to  endure  than  a  home  without  food/'  Finally, 
he  concludes  that  in  the  case  before  him  '*one  compells  the 
hüsband  until  he  agrees  [to  divorce  her]/' 

The  Tashbaz  does  not  ignore  the  fact  that  some  of  the  later 
halakhic  authorities  (aharonim)  do  not  agree  that  the  husband 
can  be  forced  to  give  a  get.  He  adds:  ''But  neither  are  we  to  be 
disregarded.  And  in  a  matter  (hat  depends  on  logical  considera- 
tion,  the  dayan  [rabbinical  judge]  has  nothing  but  what  his  own 
eyes  see/'  Undoubtedly,  this  is  the  right  approach  for  the 
halakhic  decision,  especially  in  our  own  days. 

Some  rabbis  objected  to  the  idea  of  retroactively  annulling 
marriages  because  of  the  seriousness  of  the  possible  violations 
of  the  laws  regarding  marricd  women.  Nevertheless,  in  every 
generation  from  the  time  of  the  Babylonian  gaonim  almost  until 
our  own  day,  many  commimitics  established  communal  marital 
rcgulations  the  violation  of  which  would  lead  to  retroactive 
annuimcnt  of  the  marriage.  In  general  this  was  done  with  the 
approval  of  recognized  and  highly  respected  halakhic  authori- 
ties.^*' 

If  in  past  generations  the  problems  were  so  serious  that 
rabbinical  sages  and  communities  were  compelied  to  rencw  the 
Solution  of  retroactive  annulment,  how  much  more  serious  are 
the  Problems  today,  when  there  have  been  fundamental  social, 
cducational,  and  professional  changes  in  Ihc  Status  of  the 
woman!  In  my  work,  Tcmü  he-Nissuin  u-ve-Gei  I  have  shown 
that  there  are  halakhic  possibilities  to  introduce  conditions  into 
the  ketuhah  (marriage  contract)  whose  violation  would  bring 


Contemporary  Halakhic  Issues  Regarding  Women  /  1 1 1 

about  the  retroactive  annuimcnt  of  the  marriage.  (I  regret  to  say 
that  my  work  has  not  been  given  serious  consideration,  and 
instead  all  kinds  of  Statements  have  been  made  maintaining  that 
my  teacher,  Rabbi  Y.  Y.  Weinberg,  z./.,  withdrew  the  moral 
Support  that  he  gave  to  the  work.  I  have  to  declare  that  in  all 
these  Statements  and  rumors  there  is  not  the  slightest  truth.) 

It  is  difficult  to  understand  how  the  rabbinical  authorities  of 
our  day  can  so  utterly  disregard  the  humanitarian  commitments 
and  important  principles  of  halakhic  ethics  that  guided  the 
halakhic  practice  of  the  talmudic  and  post-talmudic  sages. 


THE  AGUNAH  PROBLEM 

The  Problem  of  the  agunah,  in  the  widest  sense,  has  some  very 
serious  implications  for  the  Status  of  women  in  our  days.  There 
are  numerous  cases  of  unscrupulous  husbands  misusing  their 
halakhically  awarded  control  over  the  divorce  process.  Some 
men  have  demanded  extortionate  sums  of  money  from  the  wife 
or  her  family  before  agreeing  to  a  divorce.  Others  have  withheld 
the  get  as  a  way  of  forcing  a  wife  to  accept  an  unfair  property 
settlement.  Still  others,  with  vicious  intent,  simply  refuse  to 
give  a  get  and  abandon  their  wives  without  divorcing  them. 

All  this  causes  a  great  deal  of  suffering  for  wives,  especially 
in  Israel,  where  they  may  have  to  wait  for  years  before  a  divorce 
is  arranged,  not  necessarily  in  accordance  with  strict  principles 
of  justice.  The  problem  has  different  facets,  though  no  less 
serious,  in  the  diaspora.  While  demands  for  money  in  return  for 
a  get  come  up  there  too,  of  course,  a  woman  who  refuses  to 
submit  to  blackmail  by  her  husband  may  instead  turn  to  civil 
divorce  as  a  Solution  to  the  problem.  If  she  does  so  and  then 
wishes  to  marry  someone  eise,  she  may  find  a  rabbi  who  is 
willing  to  officiate  without  raising  any  questions  regarding  a 
religious  divorce  from  her  previous  marriage.  Or  eise,  as  often 
happens,  she  can  remarry  in  a  civil  ceremony.  In  both  cases, 
according  to  Jewish  law,  she  would  be  an  eshet  ish,  a  married 


*  1 


112  /  Jehish  Women  in  Time  and  Torah 


uoman  \\\ing  ujih  anoiher  man.   Her  chUdren.  mamzerim, 
uould  not  be  aJloued  lo  marry  inio  the  Jeu ish  Community. 

Since  taJmudic  times,  no  generation  has  been  u  ithout  Prob- 
lems of  this  kind.  It  is  our  IniQnüon  to  briefly  summarize  some 
of  those  Problems  and  show  how  rabbis,  among  them  some  of 
the  greatest  halakhic  authorities,  struggied  to  solve  them.^  As 
we  will  see,  they  did  so  by  utilizing  the  halakhic  concept  of 
tenai  be-kiddushin  (conditional  marriage). 

The  practice  of  conditional  marriage  existed  already  in  tal- 
mudic  times,  as  is  shown  by  the  following  story  told  in  the 
Talmud:^'  In  Alexandria,  toward  the  end  of  the  Second  Temple 
period,  people  would  give  kiddushin  to  their  wives  (i.e.,  legally 
espouse  a  woman  as  wife  by  giving  her  an  object  of  vaUie  for 
that  purpose).  But  when  the  time  of  their  entering  into  the  h 
uppah  (marriage  canopy)  arrived,  other  men  would  come  and 
take  them  away  (by  force)  and  marry  them.  The  sages  intended 
to  declare  the  children  mamzerim,  since  the  mothers  had  been 
legally  married  before  and  the  second  marriage  was  invalid.  Said 
Hillel  the  Eider,  *'Show  me  the  ketubah  [original  marriage 
contract]  of  your  mothers."  They  brought  it  to  him,  and  it  was 
found  written  in  it:  **When  you  move  to  my  house,  you  shall  be 
my  wife  according  to  the  laws  of  Moses  and  Israel.*'  Naturally, 
the  sages  no  longer  declared  the  offspring  mamzerim,  for  the 
condition  **when  you  move  into  my  house*'  invalidated  the  act 
oi  \\\t  fivsi  kiddushin. 

On  the  basis  of  contemporary  practice,  it  may  be  difficult  to 
understand  the  meaning  of  this  story.  Originally,  the  two  phases 
of  marriage,  erusin  and  nissu'in,  were  separated  from  each  other 
in  time.  Erusin,  normally  translated  as  "engagement,**  was  not 
an  **engagement*'  in  the  sense  in  which  the  term  is  understood 
today.  It  was  kiddushin,  the  actual  legal  espousal  of  a  person  as 
one*s  wife  by  giving  her  the  rcquired  object  of  value  and  saying, 
in  the  prescnce  of  two  witncsses:  '*With  this  ring  (or  coin  or 
any  object  of  value]  I  wed  you  in  accordance  with  the  law  of 
Moses  and  Israel.**  Nissu'in,  the  ceremony  under  the  huppcih 
and  the  joining  of  the  bride  and  bridegroom,  followed  sometime 


afler  erusin.  As  a  ruie,  the  bride  was  given  twelve  months  to 
prepare  herseif  for  married  life,  which  started  with  nissu'in, 
Since  the  act  of  *'engagement**  could  take  place  at  any  time,  in 
any  place,  and  in  the  presence  of  any  two  witnesses,  even 
without  the  knowledge  of  the  family  or  any  other  public  an- 
nouncement,  it  often,  apparently,  was  not  taken  vcry  seriously 
by  the  two  parties.  Either  or  both  might  change  their  minds  long 
before  nissu'in;  the  bridegroom  might  marry  another  woman  or 
the  bride  agree  to  marry  another  man,  even  allowing  herseif  to 
be  carried  away  by  force.  In  the  first  case,  she  is  deserted  by 
her  prospective  husband;  in  the  other,  she  is  deserting  him.  But 
in  both  cases,  the  original  act  of  erusin  is  valid,  so  she  is  an 
eshet  ish,  a  legally  married  woman. 

When  she  is  deserted,  she  becomes  an  agunah  and  cannot 
marry  another  man  without  a  get.  In  the  other  case,  if  she  lives 
with  another  man,  both  are  committing  adultery  and  their 
children  are  mamzerim.  In  order  to  solve  this  problem,  a  condi- 
tion {tenai)  was  introduced  into  the  ketubah  stating  that  the 
kiddushin  of  the  erusin  would  take  effect  only  if  followed  by  the 
appropriate  arrangement  of  the  nissu'in.  In  other  words,  if 
nissu'in  did  not  take  place,  the  act  of  kiddushin  became  invalid. 
The  woman  would  then  be  free,  according  to  Halakhah,  to 
marry  another  man. 

.  However,  the  same  problem  continued  to  trouble  other  com- 
munities,  especially  in  the  East,  in  Africa,  and  later  on  in  Italy 
and  other  places.  Because  of  the  time  lapse  between  the  erusin 
and  the  nissu'in  and  the  private  nature  of  erusin,  there  were  a 
great  many  secret  *'engagements,**  the  seducing  of  inexperi- 
enced  young  girls  to  accept  kiddushin  from  all  kinds  of  question- 
able  characters.  This  happened  especially  to  daughters  of  well- 
to-do  families.  Often  these  *'engagements**  were  dishonest, 
intended  only  for  the  purpose  of  exploiting  the  famihes. 

In  Order  to  eliminate  this  evil,  various  communities  instituted 
takkanot  (communal  regulations)  ordering  that  nissu'in,  the 
Union  of  bride  and  bridegroom  under  the  huppah,  should  follow 
immediately  upon  the  kiddushin  by  erusin.  In  time  it  was  found 


■^i»»<Ä,— >4!;^,^»-».-^.,..-y^^«*»|l»^^iV(t„!r.»  ^tm^f/HT-^ffffff^;'  _^  ■^. 


il^i...  ,j  v^-nii;':  H..^v  •-'>  >•'"■" 


3.1 


ll 


I , 


li. 


*>: 


114/  Jewish  Women  in  Time  and  Torah 

that  this  was  not  enough.  Thus,  further  takkanot  were  intro- 
duced  requiring  that  all  marriages  be  supervised  by  the  rabbi  of 
the  Community,  the  mara  de-atra,  who  would  also  officiate  at 
the  marriage  ceremony.  In  some  instances  it  was  prescribed 
that  all  marriages  had  to  take  place  in  the  presence  of  a  number 
of  communal  trustees  appointed  for  that  purpose.  Later  on,  the 
presence  of  at  least  ten  people  was  necessary.  (In  a  sensc,  this 
is  the  historical  basis  for  our  present  practice  of  kiddushin  and 
huppah  taking  place  at  the  same  time  and  in  the  presence  of  ten 
people.)  When  the  prospective  bridegroom  did  not  obey  these 
rules,  he  would  be  put  into  herem  (religious  excommunication) 
or  a  monetary  punishment  would  be  imposed.  He  might  even  be 
put  in  prison  or  given  a  form  of  corporal  punishment. 

But  what  was  to  be  done  in  cases  where  people  disobeyed 
these  rulings?  The  problem  became  extremely  serious  after  the 
loss  of  communal  autonomy,  when  Jewish  communities  and 
rabbinical  courts  were  no  longer  able  to  enforce  punishments. 
In  modern  times  there  were  additional  problems  deriving  from 
the  introduction  of  secular  laws  governing  marriage.  In  some 
countries  marriages  were  not  allowed  before  a  certain  age. 
Often,  the  marriage  had  to  be  recorded  by  the  State  registrar 
before  the  religious  ceremony  could  take  place.  Such  laws  were 
binding  on  all  Citizens." 

If  Jews  married  earlier  than  the  prescribed  age  or  did  not 
register  with  the  State  authorities,  their  marriage  was  not  recog- 
nized  by  the  State.  Thus,  if  the  husband  in  a  halakhically  valid 
marriage  wanted  to  dissolve  the  union,  he  could  go  to  the  civil 
court  and  declare  that  the  marriage  had  taken  place  in  violation 
of  the  law  of  the  State.  The  marriage  would  be  annulled,  leaving 
him  free  to  leave  his  wife  and  remarry  in  civil  court.  The  wife, 
however,  would  become  an  agiinah,  completely  dependent  for 
her  freedom  on  the  whim  of  the  husband  who  had  deserted  her. 
Of  course,  the  wife  might  follow  the  same  procedure  and  havc 
the  marriage  dissolved  in  civil  court.  That  would  enable  her  to 
marry  another  man  according  to  the  law  of  the  country,  but 
under  Jewish  law  she  and  her  new  husband  would  be  committing 


Contemporary  Halakhiclssues Regarding  Women  /  115 

adultery,  with  all  the  halakhic  implications  for  themselves  and 
their  offspring.  What  was  to  be  done  if  these  things  were 
happening  in  violation  of  the  takkanot  of  the  communities? 

The  Problem,  in  essence,  was  the  same  one  we  have  encoun- 
tered  already  in  connection  with  the  takkanah  of  Rabban  Gam- 
liel  the  Eider,  who  ordered  that  once  a  husband  sent  a  get  to  his 
wife  through  a  shaliah  (messenger)  he  could  not  cancel  the 
authorization  without  the  knowledge  of  the  shaliah  or  his  wife. 
Otherwise  the  wife  might  think  that  she  was  divorced  when,  in 
fact,  the  get  had  been  annulled  by  her  husband's  withdrawal  of 
its  halakhic  validity.^^  lipon  which  the  Talmud  asks  the  ques- 
tion:  What  if,  in  spite  of  the  takkanah  of  Rabban  Gamliel,  the 
husband  does  cancel  his  authorization  without  the  messenger's 
knowledge?  According  to  the  law  of  the  Torah,  he  has  the  right 
to  do  that.  Thus  the  get  he  sent  is  invalid,  but  neither  the 
shaliah  nor  the  wife  knows  it.  Thinking  she  is  a  divorced 
woman,  the  wife  might  remarry,  with  all  the  tragic  conse- 
quences  of  such  a  marriage.  One  of  the  answers  given  to  the 
question— the  one  accepted  as  Halakhah— was:  People  who 
marry  assume  that  the  marriage  is  taking  place  in  accordance 
with  the  rabbinical  rules  (as  is  implied  by  the  phrase  "in 
accordance  with  the  laws  of  Moses  and  Israel").  If  a  husband 
violates  any  of  those  rules,  the  rabbis  have  the  authority  to 
annul  the  validity  of  his  kiddushin.  Thus,  the  wife  becomes  free, 
even  though  the  get  she  received  is  a  meaningless  piece  of 

paper. 

Clearly,  communities  have  the  required  halakhic  authority  to 
establish  communal  takkanot  in  matters  of  marriage.  Once  the 
acknowledged  rabbinical  court  of  a  Community  or  even  a  coun- 
try actually  introduces  such  regulations,  it  has  the  authority  to 
annul  kiddushin  retroactively  if  the  takkanot  are  violated. 

This  was  the  challenge  to  rabbis  and  communities  through  the 
ages  as  they  struggied  with  the  problem  of  the  agunah:  to 
establish  adequate  takkanot  whose  violation  would  bring  about 
the  retroactive  annulment  of  a  marriage.  The  precedents  in  the 
Talmud  would  seem  to  have  provided  a  rather  easy  Solution  to 


■^& 


O;'^^ 


116/  Jewish  Women  in  Time  and  Torah 


il  •  1 


ihe  prob/em.  bui  manv  ouisiandjng  ialmudic  scholars  refuscd  fo 
aci  on  ihe  principJe  of  ihe  mbbinjcai  auihoriiv  lo  ajinuai  X/V/- 
dushin  reiroacijvejv.  Thev  reasoned  ihaf  conremporar)  rabbis 
uere  less  qualified  ihan  rhe  rabbis  of  taJmudi'c  li/nes.  "VVe  are 
not  like  (he  court  of  Rav  Ami  and  Rav  Assi/'  they  would  argue. 
So  too  mied  Ihe  Rema.^  And  yet,  an  impressive  number  of 
oulslanding  and  commanding  halakhic  aiKhorities  ruicd  diffcr- 
ently.  The  well-known  gaonini  of  the  eighth,  ninth,  and  tenth 
centuries,  among  them  Rabbi  Sherira  Gaon,  Rav  Jiidah,  and 
Rav  Hai,  taiight  unequivocally  that  the  rabbis  of  every  genera- 
tion  have  the  right  to  anniil  marriages  that  took  place  against 
their  will.  The  sages  of  Worms  and  Speyer,  in  the  days  of  the 
Ravan  and  Rambam,  followcd  in  their  footsteps.^^  The  Mabil, 
one  of  the  great  authorities  of  the  fifteenth  Century,  declared 
that  post-gaonic  rabbinical  teachers  who  since  the  days  of  the 
gaonim  opposed  the  annuimcnt  of  kiddushin  were  obviously 
unaware  of  their  views,  for  the  rulings  of  the  gaonim  were  not 
contained  in  any  written  work.  The  rabbis  of  later  generations 
would  have  followed  these  rulings  and  practices  if  they  had 
known  about  them.^ 

It  is  worth  noting  that  those  who  hesitated  to  allow  appropri- 
ate  conditions  in  the  ketuhali  were  mostly  dealing  with  isolated 
cases.  On  the  other  band,  where  problems  occurred  more 
frequently,  rabbis  were  more  inclined  to  use  their  authority  to 
establish  ncedcd  takkanot  and  to  invalidate  kiddushin  that  took 
place  in  disobedience  to  their  takkanot.  In  order  to  eliminate  all 
misunderstandings,  it  was  required  that  the  regulations  should 
clearly  State  that  any  violation  of  the  ruies  would  bring  about 
the  annulment  of  the  marriage. 

Nearer  to  our  times,  the  Hatam  Sofer  agreed  to  the  invalida- 
tion  of  the  kiddushin  as  long  as  the  couple  had  not  lived  together 
as  man  and  wife.  He  reasoned  that  a  rabbinical  court  may  act 
on  the  principle  of  hefkcr  bet  din  hefker,  i.e.,  property  expro- 
priated  by  the  ruiing  of  a  rabbinical  court  becomes  ownerless. 
Accordingly,  if  a  bridegroom  espouses  a  wife  in  violation  of  an 
established  takkanah,  he  loses  his  ownership  over  the  kesef 


i. 


Cüntemporary  Hdukhlc  Issues  Rdiording  Women  i  117 

d^-SL  Tw-m:-\r  ^  211^  zy^^z^  '^  Zl^   r.'^rt^.'   tollt    J-  ÜXiil.^    -ixLUl 


kiddushin  has  not  laken  place. 

Ifnissu'in  by  huppah  did  take  place,  however,  and  the  couple 
had  lived  together  as  husband  and  wife,  the  marriage  had  a 
much  strenger  basis,  for  according  to  the  halakhah  a  wife  may 
be  acquired  not  just  by  kesef  hui  also  by  the  act  of  cohabitation. 
The  Hatam  Sofer  maintained  that  in  talmudic  times  the  rabbis 
had  the  power,  when  the  prescribed  ruIes  were  violated,  to 
invalidate  even  such  a  marriage  by  declaring  the  cohabitation  to 
be  an  act  of  harlotry  (zenut).  In  post-talmudic  times  the  rabbis 
no  longer  had  this  authority.^^  Therefore,  the  annulment  of  the 
original  kiddushin  of  kesef  (ix,,  espousal  by  means  of  an  object 
of  value)  accomplishes  nothing.  The  marriage  would  still  be 
legal  because  of  the  other  form  of  kiddushin  effected  by  the 
couple's  living  together  as  husband  and  wife. 

It  has  rightly  been  pointed  out  that  the  Hatam  Sofer's  argu- 
ment  does  not  apply  to  the  conditions  of  life  in  our  times. 
Kiddushin  by  cohabitation  is  a  halakhically  valid  concept,  but  it 
is  only  effective  if  the  following  conditions  are  met:  (1)  the 
bridegroom  declares  before  the  act  that  his  intention  is  to 
espouse  the  bride  by  it  as  his  wife;  (2)  two  witnesses  testify  that 
cohabitation  for  the  purpose  of  kiddushin  actually  took  place; 
(3)  the  witnesses  are  appointed  by  the  bridegroom  specifically 
to  be  aware  of  the  couple's  seclusion  for  the  intended  purpose. 
All  this  would  violate  the  sense  of  decency  and  ethical  sensitiv- 
ity  in  our  generation.  Undoubtedly,  in  our  time  people  who 
marry  rely  completely  on  kiddushin  by  kesef  as  the  halakhically 
legal  basis  of  their  marriage.  Therefore,  if  any  of  the  established 
takkanot  (communal  or  rabbinical  marriage  regulations)  is  vio- 
lated, the  kiddushin  may  be  annulled  retroactively.^ 

The  qualified  applicability  of  conditional  marriages  argued  by 
the  Hatam  Sofer  and  other  outstanding  Ashkenazi  talmudic 
authorities  was  disregarded,  especially  by  some  of  the  greatest 
Sefardi  scholars.  At  the  beginning  of  the  nineteenth  Century, 
the  rabbi  of  Trieste  sought  to  introduce  takkanot  and  to  annul 


il 


'**^*"«I»T-«.| 


118/  Jewish  Women  in  Time  and  Tor  ah 

marriages  when  they  were  disobeyed.  His  decision  was  sup- 
ported  by  reference  to  the  Hida,  an  outstanding  halakhic  au- 
thority.^^ 

The  rabbi  of  Trieste  and  the  Hida  both  made  use  of  the 
halakhic  principle  known  as  le-migdar  milta,  i.e.,  "to  fence  in 
against  an  evil."  This  principle  has  its  source  in  the  talmudic 
discussion  of  whether  the  sages  have  the  authority  la'akov 
davar  min  ha-Torah,  *'to  uproot  something  from  the  Torah."  In 
case  of  need,  it  is  declared,  they  may  disregard  any  teaching  of 
the  Torah.  According  to  one  opinion,  they  only  have  the  right  to 
do  so  passively,  by  nonaction;  another  view  holds  that  they 
have  the  authority  to  do  so  even  by  active  disregard.  In  the  end 
the  discussion  concludes:  le-migdar  milta  shani,  ''to  fence  in  a 
matter  is  different,'*  i.e.,  when  an  evil  violates  Torah  principles, 
there  is  no  difference  of  opinion;^"  in  other  words,  when  an  evil 
violates  a  principle  of  the  Torah,  all  agree  that  a  law  of  the  Torah 
may  be  uprooted  in  order  to  eliminate  it.  The  rabbi  of  Trieste 
quoted  the  Rosh,  one  of  the  greatest  halakhic  authorities  since 
the  dose  of  the  Talmud,  in  support  of  his  ruiing.  Because  of  the 
importance  of  the  Rosh's  words  for  all  generations,  we  shall 
quote  them  here: 

Everyone  who  weds  a  wife  does  it  [in  such  a  manner]  that 
the  marriage  takes  place  in  agreement  with  their  ruiings 
[i.e.,  of  the  rabbis].  And  in  each  generation  people  marry 
with  the  understanding  that  they  are  adhering  to  the  ruiings 
of  their  contemporary  rabbis,  who  instituted  them  le- 
migdar  milta  [''to  fence  in  the  matter,''  i.e.,  to  eliminate 
some  evil].  All  marriages  become  legally  effcctive  only  in 
accordance  with  their  takkanot,  Even  if  a  person  should 
wed  by  cohabitation,  the  act  is  rendered  harlotry  [and  the 
marriage  annulled].  How  much  more  so  when  the  espousal 
of  the  wife  was  done  by  kesef[\.e.,  by  handing  her  some 
object  of  value],  when  the  principle  of  hefker  bei  din 
applies  [i.e.,  the  rabbinical  court  negates  the  bridegroom's 


h 


Contemporary  Halakhic  Issues  Regarding  Women  /  119 

ownership  of  the  ^^5^/given],  and  no  kiddushin  had  taken 
place  at  all. ^* 

Most  revealing  was  the  attitude  of  the  Rashba.  In  one  of  his 
responsa  he  deals  with  a  case  that  happened  in  his  city.  After 
discussing  the  matter  with  "our  teachers,"  the  Rashba  says,  he 
decided  that  it  was  right  to  annul  the  marriage.  He  even  adds: 
"My  teacher,  the  Ramban,  agreed  with  me."  But  he  concludes: 
"Nevertheless  it  is  still  necessary  to  consider  the  matter."^^  yet 
in  another  responsum,  discussing  the  same  subject,  he  writes 
that  if  it  is  a  matter  of  "'le-migdar  milta  [fencing  in  against  an 
evil],  if  the  communities,  or  even  a  Single  Community,  wish  to 
correct  a  Situation,  by  all  means  let  them  protect  their  takkanot 
by  also  introducing  the  takkanah  of  retroactive  annulment  of 

ihe  kiddushinr'^ 

Actually,  the  inclusion  of  appropriate  conditions  in  a  marriage 
contract  seems  to  be  halakhically  a  rather  simple  matter,  as  the 
following  discussion  shows.  Torah  law  says  that  the  surviving 
brother  is  to  marry  the  widow  of  a  husband  who  dies  without 
leaving  any  offspring.  If  he  refuses  to  do  so,  the  halitzah 
ceremony  is  performed.  Without  it,  the  widow  is  not  free  to 
enter  into  a  new  marriage.  Apparently  this  law  caused  serious 
Problems  through  the  ages,  for  in  some  cases  the  surviving 
brother  was  a  mumar  (apostate)  and  refused  to  participate  in 
the  halitzah  ceremony,  or  could  not  be  found,  or  lived  so  far 
away  that  the  cost  of  the  trip  would  have  been  excessive,  or  was 
mentally  disturbed  and  incapable  of  functioning.  Such  cases 
caused  much  hardship  for  the  widows  affected  and  sometimes 
led  them  to  disregard  the  Torah  law  and  marry  someone  eise, 
even  though  doing  so  was  a  transgression.  In  order  to  eliminate 
these  Problems,  Rabbi  Israel  of  Bruenn  (usually  referred  to  as 
M'hari  Brin)  added  a  condition  to  the  ketubah  specifying  that 
the  marriage  would  be  annulled  retroactively  if  the  husband  died 
childless  and  his  surviving  brother  refused  to  submit  to  the 

halitzah  ceremony. ^^ 
The  tenai  introduced  by  Rabbi  Israel  of  Bruenn  is  not  to  be 


120  /  Jewish  Women  in  Time  and  Torah 

confused  with  a  tenai  specifying  that  the  law  of  levirate  marriage 
to  the  surviving  brother  or  the  Obligation  of  halitzah  was  to  be 
disregarded  altogether.  The  Talmud  clearly  states  that  such  a 
condition  would  violate  what  is  written  in  the  Torah  and  thus 
would  have  no  validity.^^  In  the  M'hari  Brin's  ketuhah,  the 
husband  does  not  reject  the  biblical  Institution  of  levirate  mar- 
riage or  anything  connected  with  it.  On  the  contrary,  he  fully 
accepts  the  law  of  the  Torah,  but  in  order  to  protect  his  wife 
against  a  great  deal  of  suffering  should  a  specific  Situation  arise, 
he  declares  that  the  marriage  does  not  take  legal  effect  right 
from  the  beginning.  This  is  a  simple  arrangement  in  complete 
conformity  with  the  general  rules  governing  conditional  con- 
tracts.  Understandably,  it  was  suggested  that  the  operative 
principle  of  the  tenai  of  the  M'hari  Brin  should  be  extended  to 
include  other  kinds  of  conditions  necessary  to  safeguard  the 
desired  character  of  marriages.^^ 

As  for  the  halakhic  validity  of  a  tenai  added  to  a  marriage 
contract,  Rabbi  Kook,  of  blessed  memory,  wrote  that  the  con- 
dition Stands  and  is  effective.  However,  rabbis  should  not  ar- 
range  tena'im  as  a  general  practice,  for  this  would  erode  the 
form  of  the  mitzvah  of  marriage,  the  foundation  of  the  sanctity 
of  the  Jewish  family.^^ 

Such  fears  hardly  seem  warranted  nowadays,  when  social 
conditions  and  widespread  permissiveness  are  severely  shaking 
the  Jewish  family.  On  the  contrary.  The  exploitation  of  the 
power  to  give  a  get  by  unscrupulous  husbands,  which  has 
become  a  daily  occurrence,  causes  a  great  deal  of  disillusion- 
ment  with  the  quality  of  justice  implicit  in  the  marriage  laws. 

Several  other  halakhic  principles  were  also  utilized  to  annul 
kiddushin  retroactively,  if  the  Situation  demanded  it.  A  discus- 
sion  in  the  Talmud  indicates  that  the  problem  dealt  with  by  the 
M'hari  Brin  also  occupied  the  talmudic  sages.  The  question  Is 
raised:  If  the  brother  of  the  deceased  husband  is  a  niumar  and 
refuses  to  submit  to  the  halitzah  ceremony,  shouldn't  the  mar- 
riage be  dissolved  retroactively  and  automaticaliy,  because  it  is 
quite  obvious  that  the  wife  would  never  have  agreed  to  the 


Contemporary  Halakhic  Issues  Regarding  Women  /  121 

marriage  if  she  had  known  that  she  would  have  to  undergo  such 
a  trial?  The  question  is  answered  with  an  idea  that  is  already 
familiär  from  our  previous  discussion:  a  woman  is  willing  to 
accept  any  husband  because,  as  Resh  Lakish  said,  *'it  is  better 
to  live  in  two  than  to  live  alone.''^«  We  pointed  out  in  the  earlier 
discussion  that  Resh  Lakish's  view  had  some  meaning  in  a  time 
when  women  were  uneducated,  could  not  earn  a  living,  and  had 
no  social  Status.  Completely  dependcnt  on  marriage,  they 
would,  if  need  be,  accept  any  husband.  Quite  clearly,  the  very 
idea  would  be  insulting  to  the  Jewish  women  of  modern  times. 

Be  that  as  it  may,  we  learn  an  important  principle  from  this 
talmudic  passage:  Adata  de-hakhe  lo  kiddsha  nafsha,  i.e.,  there 
occasionally  may  arise  a  Situation  where  one  may  be  sure  that 
the  wife  would  never  have  accepted  the  kiddushin  if  she  had 
been  aware  of  the  lot  that  would  befall  her.  In  such  cases,  there 
would  be  no  need  for  conditions  explicitly  incorporated  into  the 
marriage  contract.  And  indeed,  about  fifty  years  ago,  a  rabbi 
suggested  **that  in  case  a  woman  becomes  an  agunah  the 
kiddushin  should  become  invalid.  The  wife  should  not  need  a 
get  even  if  she  had  lived  together  with  her  husband  as  is 
customary.  One  may  adjudge  it  with  certainty  that  it  was  not 
'for  this'  that  she  agreed  to  the  marriage,  even  if  no  condition 
had  been  made  in  advance.  For  there  cannot  be  any  greater 
damage  for  a  woman  than  to  remain  an  agunah  forever."^' 

There  were  other  talmudic  precedents  to  be  considered  in  the 
effort  to  solve  the  agunah  problem.  We  have  already  discussed 
the  uvda  de-Narash,  *'the  case  of  [the  forced  marriage  of] 
Narash."8o  ^  minor  girl  had  been  given  into  marriage  by  her 
mother  and  brothers,  as  was  the  rabbinical  ruie  when  the  father 
died.  However,  since  a  marriage  to  a  minor  was  binding  only 
rabbinically  and  had  no  biblical  basis,  the  husband  planned  to 
remarry  the  girl  when  she  reached  the  age  of  majority.  At  that 
time  she  was  taken  to  the  huppah,  but  before  he  could  give  her 
the  kiddushin,  another  person  took  her  away  by  force  and 
performed  the  kiddushin  as  required  by  the  Torah.  As  a  result, 
the  young  woman  was  now  the  legally  married  wife  of  the 


^•>  !'•  > 


122  /  Jewish  Women  in  Time  and  Torah 

second  man.  But  the  rabbis  said:  *'He  acted  improperly;  we  too 

shall  treat  him  improperly.'*  They  declared  the  second  man's 

kiddushin  invalid  and  returned  the  woman  to  the  first  man. 

The  same  principle  of  invalidating  a  kiddushin  is  used  in  the 

Talmud  in  another  context.  A  man  took  a  woman,  hung  her 

from  a  tree,  and  said  to  her:  'Miere  is  your  kiddushin.  If  you 

accept  it,  I  will  let  you  go/'«'  Since  the  woman  accepted  the 

kesef  kiddushin  (the  article  of  monetär y  value  given  her  for  the 

purpose  of  espousal),  even  though  it  was  under  duress,  she  was 

held  to  be  legally  married  to  the  man.  But  again  the  rabbis 

declared:  "He  acted  improperly;  we  too  shall  deal  with  him 

improperly."  They  declared  the  kiddushin  invalid.  The  woman 

was  free,   without  a  get,   to  go  and  marry  whomever  she 
pleased.*2 

As  we  now  see,  the  Talmud  itself  offers  three  different 
grounds  for  annulling  a  kiddushin:  (1)  the  precedent  of  the 
takkanah  of  Rabban  Gamliel  the  Eider,  namely,  that  a  get  sent 
to  one's  wife  by  the  hand  of  a  shaliah  may  not  be  cancelled 
without  the  Knowledge  of  the  messenger  and  the  wife;  (2)  where 
the  husband  has  a  condition  or  causes  a  Situation  that  would 
have  made  the  wife  reject  the  marriage  if  she  had  known  about 
it  beforehand;  (3)  where  the  husband  acts  shelo  ke-hogen  (im- 
properly). 

The  differences  are  obvious.  In  the  case  of  the  takkanah  of 
Rabban  Gamliel,  the  husband  had  the  biblical  right  to  cancel  the 
get  even  without  the  knowledge  of  his  messenger  or  his  wife. 
Because  of  the  possible  evil  consequences  of  such  action  for  the 
wife,  who  might  think  that  she  was  divorced  when  in  fact  she 
was  not,  Rabban  Gamliel  eliminated  the  husband's  original 
right. 

In  the  second  case,  no  initial  condition  was  stated  explicitly, 
but  it  is  understood  that  it  was  one  of  the  terms  of  the  wife's 
agreement.  In  the  third  examplc,  too,  one  acts  on  the  basis  of 
an  implied  condition  of  the  Jewish  marriage  law,  as  if  to  say: 
This  is  not  the  way  to  wed  a  wife;  it  violates  our  principles  of 
justice,  etc.  In  the  second  example,  the  wife's  interest  and 


i- ' 


i 


I 


Ccniiim^crjs'j  IL^itiAAic  IssutLi  Rii-^jinx  ^cnux 


VJ> 


.^ 


•^^cc  :^-^a1l  i^oi  ^'j 


In  ihe  ihird  example,  ihe  märriÄ^e  is  aiizluhcü  beca*i>e  ibe 
husbÄiid  \ioUied  basic  pöüdples  ot  Iev.iih  eüiics  ihat  he  under- 
look  lo  obey  v.hen  he  said  lo  ihe  bride.  "l  v.ed  ihee  ke-iiii 
Mosheh  ve-Yisrael  [according  lo  ihe  laws  of  Moses  and  Israel]." 
Of  these  three  talmudic  precedents  for  relroactively  invalidat- 
ing a  marriage,  one  might  think  it  would  be  easiest  to  apply  the 
takkanah  of  Rabban  Gamliel  the  Eider.  After  all,  Rabban  Gam- 
liePs  ruie  was  explicitly  stated  in  advance,  whereas  in  the  other 
two  cases  there  were  no  known  ruies  whose  violation  would 
bring  about  the  annulment  of  the  kiddushin.  However,  to  ad- 
judge  the  three  examples  in  this  manner  would  be  a  mistake. 
The  takkanah  of  Rabban  Gamliel  was  a  rabbinical  innovation  to 
deny  the  husband  a  right  granted  him  by  the  Torah.  In  the  other 
two  cases,  the  rabbis  acted  in  order  to  safeguard  certain  ethical 
principles  included  in  the  formula  ke-dat  Mosheh  ve-Yisrael,  so 
far  as  they  are  essential  for  the  Torah-ordained  Jewish  marriage. 
Once  it  was  established  that  any  of  these  principles  had  been 
violated,  the  kiddushin  automatically  became  invalid.  Of  course, 
not  everyone  is  qualified  to  decide  whether  a  violation  has 
occurred.  In  the  examples  before  us,  it  was  done  by  halakhic 

authority. 

We  have  no  intention  of  giving  a  halakhic  ruiing  on  how  the 
agunah  problem  in  our  day  should  be  solved.  This  is  not  the 
place  for  it.*^  It  is,  however,  sad  to  contemplate  the  fact  that,  in 
spite  of  the  continually  deteriorating  Situation,  nothing  signifi- 
cant  has  been  undertaken  to  solve  the  problem.«^  In  order  to  do 
so,  a  rabbinical  court  would  have  to  deliberate  seriously  on  two 
questions: 

1.  What  are  the  situations  that  may  develop  in  a  marriage 
regarding  which  one  might  rule  that  no  normal  woman  would 
agree  to  such  a  marriage  had  she  know  what  might  befall  her 
as  a  result? 

2.  What  are  the  moral  and  ethical  principles  of  the  Torah  that 


"5i«r«t 


124  /  Jewish  Women  in  Time  and  Tor  ah 

are  automatically  included  in  *'the  laws  of  Moses  and  Israel" 
as  the  basis  ofa  Jewish  marriage? 

Neither  of  these  determinations  would  have  to  be  explicitly 
included  in  the  keiubah. 

One  of  the  rabbis  who  agreed  to  the  retroactive  annulment  of 
kiddushin  writes  that  one  does  it  so  that  the  people  will  know 
that  the  sages  of  the  time  are  concerned  about  the  well-being  of 
the  daughters  of  Israel  and  to  build  a  fence  against  lawlessness.®^ 
Even  though  the  words  the  rabbi  was  using  are  a  quotation  from 
the  Talmud,^  still  .  .  . 

How  far  removed  we  are  from  care  and  concern  for  the  well- 
being  of  the  daughters  of  Israel!  The  rabbinical  establishment 
does  not  seem  to  pay  much  attention  to  the  suffering,  and  often 
the  disillusionment  with  Judaism  itself,  caused  by  its  fear  to 
accept  halakhic  responsibility  for  the  Solution  of  the  present- 
day  agimah  problem.  Its  membcrs  seem  indifferent  to  the  many . 
violations  of  the  teachings  of  the  Torah,  especially  in  the  areas 
of  ethics  and  morality,  that  are  due  to  the  unresolved  Status  of 
the  agunah  problem!  Ultimately,  the  Situation  involves  a  high 
measure  oi hillul  Hashem  for  which  the  rabbinical  establishment 
is  responsible.  This,  surely,  is  not  halakhic  Judaism. 


Notes 

1.  Arakhin  96a. 

2.  Orah  Hayyim  589. 

3.  Berakhot  21a. 

4.  Orah  Hayyim  589:  6,  17:2. 

5.  Ibid.  38:3. 

6.  Ibid. 

7.  On  Maimonides,  Hilkhot  Tzitzit  3:40,  end. 

8.  Tosafot  on  Eruvin  96a,  Kosh  ha-Shanah  33a;  Bah  on  Tur,  Yoreh 
De'ah  246;  also  Orah  Hayyim  47. 

9.  Orah  Hayyim  282:6. 

10.  Rashi  on  Ketubot  57a,  s.v.  ha'k'mashma  lan. 

11.  His  comment  on  the  Rif,  Berakhot  20b. 

12.  Berakhot  20b. 


:■ 


l 


Contemporary  Halakhic  Issues  Regarding  Women  I  125 

13.  Ibid. 

14.  Ibid. 

15.  Ran  on  ibid.  and  on  Sukkah  38a;  7//r  and  Bet  Yosef,  Orah  Hayyim 
186. 

16.  Cr  Zarua  on  Rosh,  Megillah  4a. 

17.  Berakhot  3:3. 

18.  Deuteronomy  8:10. 

19.  Berakhot  45b. 

20.  Hilkhot  Berakhot  5:6. 

21.  Chap.  4:16. 

22.  Orah  Hayyim  199:7. 

23.  Ti/r,  Orah  Hayyim  199. 

24.  Ran  on  Megillah  19b. 

25.  This  passage  is  not  found  in  the  text  of  Rashi  included  with  the 
Talmud.  See  Beit  Yosef,  Orah  Hayyim  199. 

26.  Sukkah  38a,  s.v.  b'emet  amru. 
11,  Berakhot  20b. 

28.  Orah  Hayyim  271. 

29.  Arakhin  3a. 

30.  Orah  Hayyim  271:2. 

31.  Ibid. 

32.  Arakhin,  3a,  s.v.,  Vatuyi  nashim. 

33.  Orah  Hayyim  271:2. 

34.  Yad  ha-Hazaka,  Megillah  1:1. 

35.  Megillah  2,  conclüsion. 

36.  7wr,  Orah  Hayyim  689. 

37.  Megillah  1. 

38.  Megillah  4a. 

39.  Ibid;  see  Tosafot,  s.v.,  she-afhen  hayu  he-oto  ha-nes. 

40.  Megillah  2:5. 

41.  Ibid. 

42.  Berakhot  20b,  note  35. 

43.  Deuteronomy  24. 

44.  Bava  Batra  167a. 

45.  Ibid.  168a. 

46.  Gittin  19b. 

47.  Ketubot  77a. 

48.  E.g.,  Maimonides  justifies  this  apparently  self-contradictory  pro- 
cedure  in  Laws  of  Divorce  2:5  and  2:20.  There  are,  of  course,  other 
explanations. 

49.  Yevamot  65b. 

50.  Fol.  33a. 


•■•.M-  '»rt-V^tJ-Wi- 


126  /  Jewish  Women  in  Time  and  Torah 

51.  Yevamot90b. 

52.  Ketubot3b. 

53.  Yevamot. 

54.  Ishut  14:8. 

55.  Rif,  Ketubot  63a-b. 

56.  Even  ha-Ezer  154. 

57.  Ketubot  6Ia,  citing  Genesis  3:20. 

58.  Responsa,  II.  part.  eh.  3. 

59.  E.g.,  A.  H.  Freimann*s  Seder  Kiddushin  ve-Nissu^in  me-Aharei 
Hatimat  ha-Talmud  ad  Zemanenu;  also  M.  Elon's  Ha-Mishpat  ha-lvri 
2:20. 

60.  The  examples  reported  here  are  mainly  taken  from  the  excellent 
work  of  A.  Freimann,  cited  in  the  preceding  note.  A  comprehensive 
discussion  of  the  halakhic  issues  involved  will  be  found  in  my  work, 
Tenai  bi-Nissu'in  u-ve-Get  (Jerusalem:  Mosad  Harav  Kook,  1966). 
Unfortunately,  this  book  has  been  out  of  print  for  a  long  time. 

61.  Bava  Mezia  104a 

62.  Cf.  Freimann,  op.  cit.,  pp.  218-219,  314,  etc. 

63.  Gittin33a 

64.  Sludhan  Amkh,  Even  ha-Ezer  28,  end. 

65.  See  Freimann,  p.  100. 

66.  Responsa,  pt.  II,  par.  105. 

67.  Freimann,  p.  314. 

68.  E.g.,  see  my  Tenai  be-Nissuin  u-ve-Get,  p.  48. 

69.  Freimann,  pp. 316-3 19. 

70.  Yevamot  90b. 

71.  Rosh,  Responsa,  35:1. 

72.  Responsa,  1206 

73.  Ibid.  551. 

74.  Even  ha-Ezer  157:4. 

75.  Yerushalmi,  Bava  Mezia  7:7. 

76.  See  Freimann,  p.  386. 

77.  Ibid.,  p.  392;  see  also  my  Tenai  he-Nissu'in  u-ve-Get,  p.  56. 

78.  Bava  Kama  110b. 

79.  Freimann,  p.  393. 

80.  Yevamot  llOa. 

81.  Bava  Batra  48b. 

82.  Freimann,  p.  107,  quotes  the  Radbaz,  who  refers  to  the  principle 
of  *1mproper  action"  by  the  husband  in  dealing  with  the  possibility  of 
retroactive  annulment. 

83.  Those  who  are  interested  may  consult  my  work,  Tenai  be- 
Nissu*in  u-ve-Get. 


Cünidnzzcnrj  HiiiuJLiic  hdjjis  RjiZ'Jxjin^  Womd.i      11* 


prenupüal  cgrcemems  v»iikh  may  be  eoforced  in  ihe  civü  couns.  Is 
ihis  noi  a  coofession  ihai  a  serious  halakhic  problem  cannoi  be  solved 
>fciihin  ihe  sysiem  of  ihe  Halakhah?l 

85.  Freimann,  p.  332. 

86.  Keiubot2a. 


'} 


■  "  .t>r*t»^l*f: 


,f «.  .^*».*^4.-#t«'«w^j#»*»**WM  if-'  .>.%^*«,^v!'.**H«»'*riw,^v..,^.  rt*  '»«^^  '*\r>''f»tiff9m^mi^(^i»^^>i»f*^  ■ 


Chapter  5 
CONCLUSIONS 


We  have  found  that  there  have  been  two  phases  in  the  Status  of 
women  in  Jewish  tradition.  The  nonpersonal  one,  essentially 
determined  by  the  social  and  economic  conditions  of  an  early 
Society,  was  not  much  different  from  what  could  be  observed  in 
the  non-Jewish  cultures  of  the  time.  It  was  a  condition  tolerated 
by  the  Torah,  but  not  instiliited  by  Torah  teaching  and  Torah 
values. 

The  second  phase,  which  we  calied  the  personal  Status  of  the 
woman,  acknowledged  the  value  and  dignity  of  the  female 
Personality.  It  was  taught  and  demanded  by  Torah  ideals.  It 
even  led  to  halakhic  innovations  out  of  concern  for  the  rights 
and  welfare  of  women.  Unfortunately,  the  second  phase  did  not 
follow  upon  the  first  in  historical  development.  Moreover,  the 
personal  Status  did  not  arise  as  a  historical  reality,  especially  in 
the  area  of  religious  ritual,  after  the  overcoming  of  the  mores 
deriving  from  the  conditions  that  had  determined  women's 
nonpersonal  Status.  The  two  value  Systems  existed  side  by  side 
for  many  centuries,  and  to  some  extent  even  into  our  own  time, 
without  adequate  realization  that  Torah  teachings  were  not 
being  given  adequate  realization  in  the  daily  life  of  the  people. 

Most  revealing  in  this  respect  is  the  opinion  of  Rav.  He  taught: 
'*Do  not  marry  two  women  [polygamy  was  still  practiced].'* 
Explains  Rashi:  **Because  they  join  to  plot  against  you."  Rav 
continues:  **However,  if  you  did  marry  two,  also  marry  a  third 
one."  Once  again  Rashi  explains:  'The  third  one  will  reveal  the 
plottings  of  the  other  two." 

Yet  the  same  Rav  also  ruied  that  even  though,  according  to 

128 


f 


f, ' 


Conclusions  I  129 

biblical  law,  a  man  has  the  right  to  appoint  a  shaliah  (represen- 
tative)  to  espouse  a  wife  on  his  behalf,  he  should  not  do  so, 
because  the  Torah  says,  ''And  thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbor  as 
thyself."  What  Rav  means  is  that  if  a  man  did  not  see  the 
woman  before  she  became  his  wife,  he  might  turn  out  not  to 
like  her  after  the  marriage,  and  then  he  would  be  in  violation  of 
the  commandment  to  love  his  neighbor. 

In  these  two  sayings  of  Rav  the  two  Systems  confront  each 
other.  The  Torah  teaches:  "thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbor  as 
thyself."  But  on  the  other  band,  there  were  also  the  actual 
conditions  of  the  lives  of  the  people.  The  teaching  demanding 
the  acknowledgment  of  the  woman's  personal  Status  had  not  as 
yet  overcome  all  the  consequences  of  the  early  impersonal 
Status. 

Let  US  recall  some  of  the  examples.  According  to  the  Halak- 
hah  as  stated  in  the  Talmud,  women  are  no  less  obligated  than 
men  to  say  grace  after  a  meal.  Accordingly,  women  should  have 
the  right  to  say  Birkhat  ha-Mazon  even  for  men,  who  would 
fulfill  their  own  Obligation  by  listening  to  their  reading  it  for 
them.  Nothing  in  the  Talmud  contravenes  such  a  ruiing.  Yet 
post-talmudic  codifiers  of  the  Halakhah  ruled  that  women  could 
not  act  in  this  manner  on  behalf  of  men.  As  we  saw,  the  reason 
for  such  exciusion  appears  in  two  forms.  One  held  that  women 
have  no  part  in  the  obligations  that  follow  from  the  principle 
that  "all  Jews  are  responsible  for  each  other."  The  second, 
based  on  the  personal  Status  of  women  (and  thus  even  more 
objectionable),  held  that  women  do  not  have  an  adequately 
respected  position  to  be  authorized  to  perform  the  religious 
Obligation  of  saying  grace  on  behalf  of  men.  Even  more  charac- 
teristic  is  the  opinion  of  Rabbenu  Nissim  (Ran),  who  distin- 
guishes  between  the  inclusion  of  a  woman  in  the  required 
quorum  for  zimun  (the  saying  of  grace  jointly,  for  which  three 
persons  are  required)  and  the  reading  of  the  Megillah.  Women 
are  excluded  from  zimun,  according  to  him,  but  he  had  to 
acknowledge  not  only  that  women  have  the  authority  to  read 
the  Megillah  even  for  men,  but  that  they  may  be  included  in  the 


.1 


....    ^  ».«if .«■»-«•.. ».•^•».-♦■t*»-V,-V...,>fl».   ■.4***1**f|r4?<»*'M-.» 


130  /  Jewish  Women  in  Time  and  Tor  ah 

required  quorum  for  public  reading.  And  now  comes  the  surpris- 
ing  distinction:  The  blessing  before  the  reading  requires  no 
change  in  its  formula,  no  matter  how  many  people  participate 
in  it.  Therefore,  the  text  of  the  blessing  will  not  attract  attention 
to  the  female  presence,  whereas  zimun  in  the  required  quorum 
of  three  is  added  to  the  regulär  text  of  the  grace,  and  thus  the 
presence  of  a  woman  would  be  noted. 

In  other  words,  women  are  excluded  from  zimun  because  one 
must  not  call  attention  to  their  presence.  We  also  noted  that 
notwithstanding  the  clear  fact  that  on  mishnaic  authority  it  is 
stated  that  women  are  obligated  to  read  the  Megillah  and  are 
qualified  to  do  so,  a  complicated  discussion  as  to  whether 
women  are  obligated  to  read  the  Megillah  is  conducted  by  later 
post-talmudic  authorities,  arguing  against  the  Mishnah's  Posi- 
tion on  the  basis  of  a  Tosefta  whose  opinion  would  not  normally 
be  accepted. 

Finally  we  find  a  compromise  Solution,  not  fully  recognizcd 
in  the  Shulhan  Arukh,  that  while  women  are  not  to  read  the 
Megillah  themselves,  they  should  listen  to  its  reading.  Another 
compromise  Solution  is  that  women  may  read  the  Megillah  to 
women.  Equally  remarkable  and  revealing  is  Rashi's  opinion 
that  women  may  not  participate  in  zimun,  not  even  with  their 
husbands,  because  **the  association  with  them  is  improper." 
Even  more  surprising  is  the  ruiing  in  the  Shulhan  Arukh  about 
women  putting  on  tefillin  for  prayer.  The  commandment  of 
tefillin,  as  we  have  seen,  is  the  foundation  for  the  rule  that 
women  are  not  obligated  to  fulfill  mizvot  aseh  she-ha-zeman 
geramah,  positive  commandments  connected  with  the  time  of 
the  day,  the  week,  or  the  season.  Yet  it  was  also  ruied  that  if 
women  wish,  they  may  obligate  themselves  concerning  even 
those  commandments.  Now  come  some  post-talmudic  authori- 
ties, basing  themselves  on  a  private  post-talmudic  view  that 
women  should  not  be  allowcd  to  put  on  tefillin.  And  thus 
appears  the  ruiing  in  the  Shulhan  Arukh  that  women  should  not 
be  permitted  to  put  on  tefillin  because  they  are  not  sufficiently 
careful  about  their  bodily  hygiene. 


k 


h' 


Conclusions  /  131 

One  cannot  help  asking  how  such  attitudes  and  ruiings  can  be 
reconciled  with  Torah  principles  that  a  man  should  love  his  wife 
as  himself  and  honor  her  more  than  himself,  or  the  teaching  that 
a  house  is  blessed  mainly  because  of  the  wife  and  many  others 
in  the  same  spirit.  There  is  only  one  explanation:  in  spite  of  the 
Torah  Ideals  and  teachings,  the  views  about  the  female  person- 
ality,  and  the  social  conditions  that  determined  them,  persisted 
from  the  phase  of  the  nonpersonal  Status  of  women.  If  Rashi 
says  that  it  was  not  proper  to  sit  together  with  women  to  say 
grace,  or  the  Shulhan  Arukh  ruies,  with  reference  to  the  men- 
strual  period,  that  women  do  not  take  sufficient  care  to  keep 
their  bodies  clean,  these  were  indeed  the  conditions  at  those 
times.  Because  the  mores  of  the  nonpersonal  phase  persisted,  it 
was  indeed  difficult  to  accept  the  idea  that  women  could  read 
the  Megillah  for  men  or  were  important  enough  to  say  grace,  for 
this  would  have  meant  that  men  could  fulfill  their  duties  in 
Cooperation  with  such  incomplete  personalities. 

At  the  same  time  we  ought  to  understand  that  these  and  all 
similar  ruiings  are  not  based  on  the  piain  and  clear  meaning  of 
the  classical  halakhic  text.  In  fact,  they  are  often  deviations 
from  it,  creating  exceptions  to  normally  valid  principles.  Often 
we  are  confronted  not  with  original  halakhic  principles,  but  with 
ruiings  imposed  upon  Halakhah  by  the  prevailing  time-depend- 
ent  culture  that  made  it  necessary  to  respect  the  existing  male- 

female  relationship. 

The  power  of  the  influence  of  the  nonpersonal  Status  of 
women  was  indicated  by  the  saying  of  Rabbi  Eliezer,  according 
to  which  a  person  who  teaches  his  daughter  Torah  is  as  if  he 
had  taught  her  promiscuity.  This  in  itself  is  sufficient  to  show 
the  survival  of  the  values  of  the  nonpersonal  Status.  But  how 
much  more  powerfui  does  such  survival  prove  itself  when  one 
learns  Rabbi  Eliezer's  opinion  about  women  from  the  text  in  the 
Jerusalem  Talmud,  which  states,  as  we  noted,  *'Let  the  Torah 
be  burnt  but  not  be  handed  to  women."  Notwithstanding  all 
this,  Rabbi  Eliezer's  ruiing  was  generally  followed,  in  most 
religious  circles,  up  to  our  own  days. 


■■■*:*■  *»*'^ 


■•>«  :?i  >•',»•>•  v.M»y 


't*,- tHU-njt-H^ 


»,^^.-«l*s<fVJ«W»t****' '*'^**  W*»^..»i«»*?'^.'HV«>#<W^t?-^ 


132  /  Jewish  Women  in  Time  and  Torah 


The  most  deplorable  aspect  of  the  present-day  Situation  in 
matters  of  Halakhah  and  religious  ritual  is  the  fact  that  even 
though  the  personal  Status  of  women  has  been  fully  achieved  in 
the  social  sphere,  little  attention  has  been  given  to  the  halakhic 
consequences.  Many  of  the  ruiings  discussed  above.  which  in 
effect  impose  the  surviving  mores  of  the  nonpersonal  stage 
upon  the  Halakhah,  have  rcmained  untouched.  Unfortunately, 
ignoring  current  developments  in  this  way  reflects  a  nonhalakhic 
attitude.  Instead  of  examining  the  basis  of  certain  takkanot 
(ruies  and  regulations)  to  see  whether  they  still  have  meaning 
and  purpose,  the  rabbinical  establishment  is  afraid  of  any 
change  and  anything  new.  In  certain  areas,  of  course.  life  itself 

has  taken  over. 

We  noted  that  Maimonidcs,  on  the  basis  of  a  source  in  the 
Talmud,  ruled  that  a  husband  should  not  allow  his  wife  to  leave 
their  home  more  than  once  or  iwice  a  month.  I  strongly  doubt 
that  this  law  is  still  observed  in  religious  circles.  Are  there  still- 
any  families  whose  daughters  behave  in  accordance  with  the 
biblical  teaching  that  "the  honor  of  a  king's  daughter  is  inside  a 
corner  of  her  house"?  But  Ict  us  also  realize  that  the  contem- 
porary  practice  is  not  a  violation  of  the  teaching  of  Maimonides. 
The  Rambam  was  right.  In  the  time  of  the  Talmud  and,  obvi- 
ously,  in  his  own  day  too,  such  was  proper  behavior  for  Jewish 
women.  It  would  be  completcly  meaningless  today. 

At  the  same  time,  we  cannot  help  noting  the  text-addicted 
inconsistent  attitude  of  the  religious  establishment.  Daughters 
of  religious  families  and  young  wives  study  and  learn  all  kinds 
of  professions.  They  work  in  offices,  business  enterprises,  and 
organizations  together  with  men.  Many  of  them  earn  the  living 
for  the  family  while  their  husbands  study  Torah  in  a  kollel.  Yet, 
at  the  same  time,  serious  objections  are  raised  against  women 
being  elected  to  public  offices.  At  the  time  of  this  writing  the 
rabbinate  in  Israel  strongly  opposes  the  election  of  women  to 
religious  Councils  because  one  of  the  responsibilities  of  such 
Councils  is  the  election  of  rabbis  in  their  cities.  As  we  have 
shown,  there  is  no  halakhic  basis  whatever  for  opposing  wom- 


> , 


Conclusions  I  133 

en's  participation  in  public  offices,  Councils,  and  representative 

^'''how  far  we  have  come  from  the  ethics  of  authentic  Halakhah 
is  well  iUustrated  by  two  exampies.  We  have  found  that  m 
recognition  of  the  personal  human  dignity  of  women.  major 
changes  and  innovations  were  introduced  even  into  some  b.bli- 
cal  laws.  For  instance.  talmudic  and  post-talmudic  ruhngs  and 
regulations  ensured  that  women  would  be  treated  justly  m 
matters  of  inheritance.  This  meant  that  the  early  laws  were 
.  effectively  abolished.  As  we  have  shown.  those  laws  were  valid 
in  their  own  time  but  became  severely  discriminatory  and  intol- 
erable  once  woman's  personal  Status  had  been  acknowledged. 
And  yet  to  this  day.  when  a  husband  bequeathes  his  possess.ons 
to  his  wife  in  his  last  will  and  testament.  the  Israeli  rabbinate 
will  call  the  children  and  ask  them  whether  they  are  willing  to 
renounce  their  father's  inheritance  to  their  mother.  What  could 
be  more  farcical  than  such  a  procedure! 

One  recalls  that  Rabbi  Judah  ha-Nasi  calied  in  his  sons  before 
his  death  and  urged  them  to  be  extremely  carefui  in  all  matters 
concerning  respect  for  their  mother.  And  before  him.  when 
Rabbi  Joseph  heard  the  footsteps  of  his  mother  coming.  he 
would  rise  out  of  respect  for  the  approaching  divine  presence 

But  by  far  more  objectionable  is  the  utter  disregard  for  the 
numerous  halakhic  innovations  introduced  by  talmudic  teachers 
to  Protect  the  wife  against  the  possible  harmful  consequences 
of  the  husband's  behavior  in  matters  of  divorce.  These  innova- 
tions would  enable  us  to  introduce  appropriate  tenaim  (condi- 
tions)  into  the  marriage  contract  (ketubah)  that  would  solve  the 
many  Problems  arising  from  a  broken-down  marriage.  But  noth- 
ing is  being  done,  and  the  result  is  the  untold  suffermg  of  the 
many  wives  who  are  exposed  to  the  willfulness  of  their  hus- 
bands. The  Situation  is  especially  serious  in  Israel,  where  mar- 
riages  and  divorces  are  under  the  authority  of  the  rabbinate. 
The  prevailing  conditions  are  not  due  to  Halakhah;  on  the 
contrary,  they  are  in  violation  of  fundamental  princ.ples  of 
halakhic  ethics. 


-»    . .  \t.  •vt'<^.,'bf-»y».^,.,.j>%.fiSj^,.^  .■J'it^.^f.^-*.*-:^  ■•.i'-..-  ri^' 


'  *  '  *.-i*4.. 


,  >.^^y».^.g^fy.<|M»<<i>.n-i><M».,t.^-4>«*»W'»*^'\  >  '*U^^^9^ffn^^ 


134  /  Jewish  Warnen  in  Time  and  Tor  ah 

Unfortunately,  the  problem  that  we  are  discussing  is  not 
limited  to  the  subject  of  the  Status  of  women  in  Judaism.  It  is  a 
Problem  that  involves  the  cntire  area  of  present-day  religious 
faith.  The  so-calied  drift  to  the  night  is  a  drift  toward  a  naive, 
unquestioning  spirituality.  In  essence,  it  is  a  drift  away  from 
authentic  Halakhah.  Because  of  this  it  would  be  useless  to  place 
our  hopes  on  the  rabbinical  establishment  either  in  Israel  or  in 
the  Diaspora.  Just  because  of  this  we  need  rabbis  who  are 
talmidei  hakhamim  (talmudic  scholars)  with  an  adequate 
worldly  education,  who  are  seriously  concerned  and  troubled 
by  the  inadequate  regard  for  the  problems  of  contemporary 
Jewish  religious  life,  whose  sense  of  rabbinical  responsibility 
will  give  them  courage  to  speak  out;  and  who,  at  least  in  the 
area  of  their  influence,  will  introduce  the  halakhic  changes  that 
are  required  in  recognition  of  the  human  dignity  of  the  Jewish 
woman  of  today.  Perhaps  this  will  lead  to  a  gradual  halakhic 
renewal  that  will  ultimately  reestablish  Judaism  as  Torat 
Hayyim — a  Torah  of  Life.  '' 


Notes 


1.  Pesahim  113a. 


GLOSSARY 


Words  set  in  small  caps  are  defined  elsewhere  in  the  Glossary. 

Ba^p.    Rabbi  Joel  Sirkes  (1561-1640).  Poland.  Author  of  res- 

ponsa  and  oi  Bayit  liadash  commentary  on  the  tur. 
Behag.    The  anonymous  author  of  the  Halakhot  Gedolot,  a 

summary  of  talmudic  law  often  attributed  to  Simeon  Kayyara 

of  Basra  (9th  Cent.). 
Even  ha-Ezer.    The  third  major  section  of  the  TUR  and  the 

SHULHAN  ARUKH,  treating  all  aspects  of  marriage  and  divorce 

Haglb.  A  comment  or  gloss  to  a  main  body  oftext.  Especially 
referring  to  the  glosses  of  rema  on  the  shulhan  arukh. 

Halakhah.  Jewish  law.  Derived  from  the  Hebrew  word  mean- 
ing  "walk,  go."  Halakhah  is  both  the  set  of  normative  reli- 
gious Standards  and  the  traditional  process  for  determining 

those  Standards. 

Kesef  Mishneh.  One  of  the  principal  commentaries  to  the  ram- 
BAM's  Mishneh  Torah.  Written  by  Joseph  Karo  (1488-1575), 
the  author  of  the  shulhan  arukh.  The  major  a.m  of  the 
Kesef  Mishneh  is  to  identify  the  talmudic  sources  underlying 
the  halakhic  ruiings  of  the  Mishneh  Torah. 

Magßid  Mishneh.  One  of  the  principal  commentaries  on  the 
rambam's  Mishneh  Torah.  Written  by  Vidal  Yom  Tom  of 
Tolosa  in  the  fourteenth  Century.  He  attempts  to  resolve 
difficult  passages  and  often  defends  the  Mishneh  Torah 
against  the  criticisms  of  Rabbi  Abraham  ben  David  of  Pos- 

quiöres  (Rabad)  . 

Midrash.  A  rabbinic  method  of  analysis  or  commentary  typi- 
cally  employed  in  relation  to  the  Bible.  The  linguistic  root  of 
the  term  means  "search.  investigate."  Midrash  is  a  process 
of  deriving  or  uncovering  layers  of  meaning,  legal  impUca- 

135 


f0t^  «<««i*^Mr.M«<4'^ 


•^»^^'^•^timMti, 


136  /  Jewish  Women  in  Time  and  Torah 

tions,  **historicar'  details,  etc.,  over  and  beyond  !hc  slrictl 
lireral  sense  of  the  le.xi.  Midrashic  uorks  usuaJJy  take  Ihc 
form  of  either  a  susrained  horrJJeiicaJ  preseniaiion  on  a  cer- 
lain  iheme  or  a  line-b)  -line  execesis  of  a  bitUc^  um. 

Midrash  Rabbah.  The  general  name  given  to  a  sei  of  midrashic 
works  on  the  Pentateuch  and  five  books  of  the  Writings  (Song 
of  Songs,  Ruth,  Lamentations,  Ecclesiastes,  Esther).  These 
collections  achieved  their  final  literary  form  between  the  fifth 
and  twelfth  centuries  c.e.  Each  book  (e.g.,  Genesis  Rabbah, 
Ruth  Rabbah)  is  an  independent  composition,  and  the  style 
and  purposes  of  each  can  vary  considerably. 

Rabbenu  Tarn.  Rabbi  Jacob  ben  Meir  (1096-1171).  France.  A 
grandson  of  rashi.  R.  Tarn  was  the  most  authoritative  rabbin- 
ical  figure  of  his  time  throughoiit  France,  Germany,  and  other 
parts  of  the  Jewish  world.  Besides  his  Status  as  a  decisor  of 
HALAKHAH,  hc  was  the  principal  force  behind  the  creation  of 
the  System  of  talmudic  analysis  known  as  tosafot. 

Rambam.  Rabbi  Moses  ben  Maimon,  known  also  as  Maimoni- 
des  (1135-1204).  Spain  and  Egypt.  Rambam  is  probably  the 
most  well-known  Jew  of  the  Middle  Ages.  His  influence  on 
the  history  of  Judaism  as  halakhist  and  philosopher  has  been 
profound.  His  main  works  include  the  Commentary  to  the 
Mishnah,  the  Guide  to  the  Pcrplexed,  his  major  philosophical 
Statement,  and  most  importanlly  the  Mishneh  Torah,  proba- 
bly the  most  comprehensivc  account  of  Jewish  law  ever 
produced. 

Rashba.  Rabbi  Solomon  ben  Abraham  Adret  (1235-1310). 
Spain.  He  is  best  known  for  his  tremendous  production  of 
responsa,  numbering  well  over  10,000.  In  these  he  addresscd 
questions,  sent  to  him  from  all  over  the  Jewish  world,  on  all 
types  of  legal  issues.  He  also  dealt  with  problems  of  exegesis 
and  philosophy.  In  addition,  Rashba  commented  extensively 
on  the  Talmud. 

Rashbam.  Rabbi  Samuel  ben  Meir  (1080-1174).  France.  A 
grandson  of  rashi  and  the  older  brother  of  rabbenu  tam. 
Prominent  both  as  a  talmudist  and  as  a  biblical  commentator 
in  the  tradition  of  his  grandfathcr.  With  Bible  his  approach 
was  to  stress  the  literal,  straightforward  meaning  of  the  text. 

Rashi.     Rabbi  Solomon  ben  Isaac  (1040-1105).  France.  The 


Glossary  I  137 
Premier  commeatator  oq  Bible  and  Talmud.  His  werk  is 


,«  . 


and bccame  \in:üÄii">  s^uon^ ^o^ ^i»v.I;  1^-1.^3  iz. 
Rema.  Rabbi  Moses  ben  Israel  Isseries  (1525-1572).  Poland. 
One  of  the  leading  halakhic  authorities  for  Ashkenazic  Jewry 
(Germany,  Eastern  Europe,  Russia).  He  added  supplemen- 
lary  notes  to  the  shulhan  arukh,  a  code  of  law  which  most 
often  reflected  Sefardic  practice  (Spain,  Western  Europe, 
North  Africa).  By  bringing  in  Ashkenazic  traditions  and  cus- 
toms  he  made  it  possible  for  the  Shulhan  Arukh  to  become  a 
universally  accepted  authority. 

Rif.  Rabbi  Isaac  ben  Jacob  Alfasi  (1013-1103).  North  Africa. 
Author  of  the  Sefer  Halakhot,  the  most  important  code  of 
Jewish  law  prior  to  the  rambam's  Mishneh  Torah.  The  Rif*s 
work  was  an  attempt  to  summarize  and  give  the  final  rulings 
of  talmudic  discussions.  In  doing  so  he  tried  to  preserve  the 
language  and  structure  of  the  Talmud  as  much  as  possible. 

Rivash.  Rabbi  Isaac  ben  Sheshet  (1326-1408).  Spain  and  North 
Africa.  Author  of  large  numbers  of  responsa.  His  writings 
were  consulted  extensively  by  Joseph  Karo  in  the  formulation 

of  the  SHULHAN  ARUKH. 

Rosh.  Rabbi  Asher  ben  Yehiel  (1250-1327).  France,  Germany, 
and  Spain.  Outstanding  halakhic  authority  and  talmudic 
Scholar.  His  legal  decisions  were  one  of  the  three  principal 
sources  upon  which  the  rulings  of  the  shulhan  arukh  were 
based.  His  schools  also  produced  extensive  tosafot.  One  of 
the  few  rabbis  to  exercise  direct  influence  in  his  own  lifetime 
over  Ashkenazic  and  Sefardic  Jewry. 

Shoftim.    The  Hebrew  name  for  the  biblical  book  of  Judges. 

Shulhan  Arukh.  Hebrew  for  'Trepared  Table.'*  Composed  by 
Joseph  Karo  with  additions  by  rema  and  first  published  in 
1565.  This  work  became  the  major  authority  for  halakhic 
practice  throughout  the  Jewish  worid.  It  is  divided  into  the 
same  four  major  divisions  as  the  tur  of  Jacob  ben  Asher.  It 
contains  concise  rulings  in  all  areas  of  Jewish  tradition  still 
directly  relevant  after  the  destruction  of  the  Second  Temple. 

Sifre.  Eariy  collections  of  midrash  on  the  biblical  books  of 
Numbers  and  Deuteronomy.  Probably  edited  toward  the  end 


138  /  Jewish  Women  in  Time  and  Torah 

of  the  fourth  Century  c.e.  in  the  land  of  Israel.  Contains  both 
legal  and  homiletical  material. 
Ibrgum  Yonatan.    An  Aramaic  translation  of  the  second  section 
of  the  Hebrew  Bible,  which  is  termed  Prophets.  This  transla- 
tion originated  in  the  land  of  Israel  and  was  probably  redacted 
by  the  seventh  Century  c.e.  Its  purpose  was  to  make  these 
biblical  books  accessible  to  Jews  who  were  no  longer  fluent 
in  Hebrew.  More  than  a  literal  translation,  it  contains  a  great 
deal  of  midrashic  and  legendary  material. 
Tashbaf.    The  three-part  collected  responsa  of  Rabbi  Simeon 
ben  ^emah  Duran  (1361-1444),  North  Africa.  His  writings 
touch  on  a  very  wide  ränge  of  topics.  Besides  ruiings  on 
HALAKHAH,  the  author  wrote  on  issues  pertaining  to  history, 
philosophy,  mathematics,  astronomy,  and  the  like. 
Ibsafot.     A  method  of  talmudic  analysis  which  developed  in  the 
rabbinical  academies  of  France  and  Germany  from  the  twelfth 
to  the  fourteenth  Century.  These  schools  produced  an  exten- 
sive literature  of  talmudic  commentary,  and  this  method  of 
study  spread  throughout  most  parts  of  the  Jewish  world.  The 
Standard  editions  of  the  Talmud  have  rashi's  commentary  on 
one  side  of  the  page  and  a  set  of  Tosafot  on  the  other  side. 
Tbr.     Also  known  as  the  Arba*ah  Turim,  'The  Four  Rows." 
Major  halakhic  compendium  written  by  Jacob  ben  Asher 
(1270-1340)  in  Spain.  The  Tur  became  particularly  significant 
for  its  organizational  structure,  which  was  adopted  by  almost 
every  subsequent  code  of  Jewish  law,  most  importantly  the 
SHULHAN  ARUKH.  It  is  divided  into  four  main  sections:  Orah 
Hayyim  (everyday  ritual,  prayer,  Sabbath  and  holidays);  yg*- 
REH  de'ah  (dietary  rules,  sexual  regulations,  laws  of  conver- 
sion,  mourning,  and  various  other  topics);  even  ha-ezer 
(laws  of  marriage  and  divorce);  and  Hoshen  Mishpat  (civil 
and  judicial  procedure). 
Yoreh  De'ah.    The  second  major  section  of  the  tur  and  the 
SHULtiAN  ARUKH.  It  includes  a  wide  variety  of  subjects,  such 
as  dietary  rules,  restrictions  relating  to  idolatry,  sexual  regu- 
lations, laws  of  vows  and  oaths,  honoring  parents,  charity, 
conversion,  and  mourning  practices. 


••••'':»«  t-£;;-tmf-t-. 


M 


INDEX 


Agimah.  45-48,  65,  100,  101,  106, 

107,  111-124,  133 
Apologetics,  1 
Aristotle,  27 
Asmakhta,  82-83 

B 

Barhu  (prayer),  82,  83 
Bat-Mitzvah,  80-81 
Bet  Din.  See  Rabbinical  Court 
Birkat  ha-Mazon.  See  Mitzvot 

and  Women 
Blessings 
over  the  Torah,  75 
said*1nvain*\  71-72 
upon  performing  a  mitzvah, 

70-72 
**who  has  not  made  me  a 
woman/siave'\  13 
B'notZelafJwd,20-'2\,52 
Breastfeeding,  42 


Child-bearing.  8,  52.  102-103 
Circumcision,  5,  80-81,  86 
Community  practices,  54-55,  65, 
66-68,  113-116 
See  also  Minhag;  Takkanot 
Covenant.  See  imder  Women 

D 

Davor  she-bi-kedushah  (sacred 

prayer),  81-83 
Deborah  (Biblical  judge),  66 


**Dina  demalkhuta  dina\  65 
Dinah,  17 

Divorce,  14,34,  111,  133-134 
civil,  111,  114,  127n. 
innovations  in,  for  wife's 

benefit,  45-52,  63,  100-111 
as  men*s  perogative,  8,  45 
through  retroactive  annulment. 
103-105,  110-124 

E 

Education.  See  under  Women 
*'Einonesbe'gittin'\  106 
"Elu  ve-elu  divrei  Elokim 

Hayyim",  79 
Esther,  20,  98 
Eve,  18,22.23,42 


Guardianship 
in  Greek  society,  26 
not  existing  among  Jews,  33-34 

H 

Mali  nah.  119-121 

Hannah,  21-22 

''Hejker  bet  din  hefker".  46,  101 . 

116,  118 
Hillul  Hashem  (desecration  of 
the  divine  name),  63,  124 
Husbands 
abusing  their  power,  63,  111, 

120,  133 
avoiding  their  hatred,  12,  15 
being  beloved  by,  9-11,  15,  23 


139 


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3 


WOMEN 

and 

JEWISH  LAW 

An  Exploration  of  Women's  Issues 
in  Halakhic  Sources 

RACHEL  BIALE 


SCHOCKEN  BOOKS  •  NEW  YORK 


l 


INTRODUCTION 


Interest  in  Ihe  history  of  women  has  accompanied  the  growth  of 
self-awareness  and  political  consciousness  generated  by  the 
women's  movement.  Similarly,  Jewish  women  have  focused  much 
attention  on  the  Status  and  life  of  women  in  Jewish  society.  In  order 
to  understand  the  contemporary  reality  of  Jewish  women's  lives  we 
must  learn  of  their  past,  of  the  place  of  women  in  traditional  Jewish 
Society.  This  book  offers  some  of  the  sources  which  are  critical  for 
the  study  of  women  in  traditional  Jewish  life.  These  are  sources  of 
Halakhah,  Jewish  law,  which  formed  the  backbone  of  Jewish  life 
before  secularization. 

The  centrality  of  the  Halakhah  to  Jewish  life  and  its  inaccessi- 
bility  to  contemporary  readers  not  reared  in  traditional  Jewish 
learning,  or  "study  of  Torah."  inform  the  purpose  of  this  book. 
The  Halakhah  is  inaccessible  to  the  untrained  reader  because  its 
methods  of  argumentation  are  so  complex  that  they  often  seem 
impenetrable,  and  because  of  the  sheer  volume  of  the  literature. 
Moreover,  in  the  case  of  women,  not  only  contemporary  secular 
readers  lack  access  to  halakhic  sources;  women  within  Orthodox 
Jewish  society,  today  and  in  the  past,  have  rarely  had  the  neces- 
sary  training  for  the  study  of  the  law,  and  never  the  requisite 
Status  and  recognition  for  formulating  Halakhah. 

Women  have  participated  in  the  evolutionof  the  Halakhah  only 
in  the  "prenatal"  and  "Postpartum"  stages  of  the  process.  They 
encountered  problems  and  conflicts  in  daily  life  and  raised  ques- 
tions  that  required  halakhic  decisions:  from  the  minutia  of  the 
laws  of  kashrut  (dietary  laws)  in  their  kitchens,  to  the  momentous 
Problems  of  marriage,  divorce,  procreation,  abortion,  and  rape.  At 
the  end  of  the  process  women,  like  men,  implemented  the  rulings 


A-  •  i  J. 


di.\^.N 


■ti 


INTRODUCTION 


of  the  halalchic  authoriries  uho  uere  excJusiveJy  maJe.  At  times 
women  have  argued  halakhic  issues  with  the  recognized  aiithori- 
tios  of  their  day.  The  Talmud  (Nedarim  50b)  teils  of  a  vvoman  who 
came  before  Rav  Judah  to  ask  a  halakhic  question,  and  provoca- 
tively  disputed  his  ruling.  But  such  a  case  was  probably  rare,  and 
she  was  deemed  brazen:  punished  by  heaven,  "she  burst  and 
died."  As  a  rule,  women  in  the  past  as  well  as  womon  in  the 
prescnt  havebeen  halakhically  silent. 

The  collection  of  halakhic  sources  in  this  bock  is  intended  ns  a 
first  Step  toward  drawing  women  into  the  circle  of  the  Halakhah. 
Such  an  attempt  is  necessarily  fraught  with  considerable  Prob- 
lems  and   limitations.    The   Talmud   is  traditionally  calied  an 
"ocean,"  which  symbolizes  its  vastness  and  depth,  and  immer- 
sion  in  the  Talmud  is  just  the  first  step  toward  Icarning  of  Ihe 
Halakhah.  Only  the  greatost  scholars  can  master  its  füll  ränge. 
Moreover,  any  comprehensive  treatment  of  an  aspect  of  Ihe  Hala- 
khah would  be  so  detailod  and  technical  as  to  exclude  most 
readers.  Therefore.  far  from  pretending  to  present  a  definitive  and 
complete  study  of  women  in  Jewish  law,  I  have  chosen  to  select 
some  of  the  most  central  issues  and  central  texts  from  biblical  to 
contemporary  times.  I  have  also  sought  texts  that  domonstrate  Ihe 
flexibility  and  originality  of  rabbinic  thinking  as  well  as  those  thal 
represent  the  major  positions  on  each  issue.  No  doubt  there  will 
be  those  who  would  select  other  texts,  but  I  have  tried  to  follow 
the  rabbinic  principle  that  "he  who  tries  to  grasp  too  much,  grasps 
nothing  at  all." 

I  have  also  tried  to  limit  this  study  to  the  law  itself.  A  social 
history  of  Jewish  women  remains  to  be  written,  and  given  the 
increasing  impact  of  women's  history  on  Jewish  historians,  proba- 
bly will  be  written  in  the  Coming  years.  The  Status  of  women  in 
Jewish  law  is  only  one  aspect,  one  source,  for  that  story.  1  have 
tried  not  to  draw  conclusions  about  the  actual  life  of  women  from 
the  law,  except  where  it  seemed  warranted.  Law  sometimes  lags 
behind  social  reality  and  sometimes  anticipates  it.  At  times  atli- 
tudcs  change  in  populär  mores  and  behavior,  and  only  later  enler 
codified  law,  while  at  others  the  law  may  permit  much  more  than 
populär  attitudes  will  tolerate. 


The  sources  in  this  book  reflect  the  trends  of  development  and 
change  in  the  Halakhah  and  demonstrate  the  continuing  contro- 
versies  over  fundamental  issues.  The  material  in  each  chapter  is 
organized  in  historical  progression,  usually  starting  with  biblical 
legislation,  moving  to  the  Mishnah  and  Gemara  (the  two  histori- 
cally  successive  parts  of  the  Talmud)  and  then  to  medieval  and 
modern  codes,  commentaries,  and  responsa.  Together  with  this 
historical  structure  I  have  also  tried  to  organize  each  chapter  to 
present  a  wide  variety  of  opinions,  from  those  of  the  majority  to 
the  dissenting  voices. 

My  selection  of  halakhic  sources,  like  any  selection  from  a  vast 
literature,  is  informed  by  a  certain  view  of  the  Halakhah.  I  believe 
that  historically  the  Halakhah  has  been  characterized  more  by 
disagreement  (mabloket)  than  by  consensus,  more  by  mechanisms 
of  change  than  by  forces  of  rigid  conservatism.  I  do  not  dispute  the 
fact  that  there  is  consensus  in  the  Halakhah  on  many  issues,  and 
that  its  fundamental  Impetus  is  to  preserve  the  customs  of  the 
past.  However,  historical  study  of  halakhic  sources  shows  that  the 
mechanisms  for  change  and  the  openness  of  the  tradition  in  pre- 
serving  minority  opinions  have  been  primary  factors  in  assuring 
the  perpetuation  of  the  legal  System.  A  historical  perspective  fur- 
ther  shows  that  the  attempt  to  present  a  monolithic  and  extremely 
conservative  portrait  of  the  Halakhah  is  more  a  characteristic  of 
the  response  of  modern  Jewish  Orthodoxy  to  secularism  than  a 
central  feature  of  the  Halakhah  in  earlier  periods. 

Thus  the  sources  in  this  book  retlect  development,  change,  and 
controversy  in  the  Halakhah.  They  also  demonstrate  that  despite 
the  difficulties  in  drawing  general  conclusions  about  the  treat- 
ment of  "women's  issues*'  in  the  Halakhah,  we  can  see  a  gradual 
and  persistent  effort  to  redress  the  fundamental  imbalance  in 
power  between  men  and  women  which  characterizes  biblical  law. 
The  evolution  of  the  laws  of  divorce  illustrates  this  trend.  In  the 
Bible,  divorce  is  a  unilateral  action  of  a  husband;  it  permits  no 
right  of  appeal  to  the  wife  and  precludes  the  possibility  of  a 
woman's  initiating  divorce  proceedings  against  her  husband. 

Rabbinic  law,  in  the  course  of  about  ten  centuries,  makes  four 
major  changes  in  the  laws  of  divorce  to  improve  women's  lot. 


UTjcL 


JDlCZiU** 


ting  a  biJl  of  divorce  (ge/j  which,  while  ii  cannot  prevent  a  deter- 
mined  husband  from  divorcing  bis  wile  **unjustJy/*  at  least  re- 
duces  the  possibiJity  of  rash,  thoughtJess  divorces  effected  in  the 
heat  of  anger.  Second,  the  Talmud  introduces  a  numberof  circum- 
stances  which  may  serve  as  grounds  for  a  woman  to  seek  a  divorce 
from  her  husband  (she  still  cannot  divorce  him,  but  rather  may 
appeal  to  a  Jewish  court  to  compel  him  to  divorce  herj.  Further- 
more,  postbiblical  Halakhah  introduces  the  keiuhah,  a  marriage 
document  which  in  actuality  is  a  sort  of  "divorce  insurance."  In 
the  keiuhah,  which  the  groom  gives  to  the  bride  at  the  wodding. 
he  promises  substantial  payments  in  the  event  of  a  divorce  (or  bis 
death),  thus  securing  the  divorcee  some  measure  of  economic  pro- 
tection. Finally,  in  the  Middle  Ages  the  ban  of  Rabbenu  Gershom 
(tenth  Century)  forbids  divorcing  a  woman  against  her  consent. 
The  unilateral  power  of  men  to  effect  divorce  remains  a  major 
factor  in  the  Halakhah,  but  it  is  considerably  tempered  by  postbib- 
lical rulings. 

Other  areas  of  Halakhah  reveal  a  similar  trend.  The  laws  of 
onah,  the  sexual  relations  between  husband  and  wife,  for  ex- 
ample,  seem  intended  to  redress  the  imbalance  in  sexual  power 
and  initiative  between  men  and  women  in  a  traditional  family  and 
Society.  The  rabbis,  apparently  perceiving  that  men  are  more 
likely  to  control  sexual  relations  in  a  marriage,  and  to  demand 
sexual  satisfaction  when  Ihey  desire  it,  require  a  man  lo  satisfy  his 
wife's  sexual  needs,  and  at  the  same  time  forbid  him  to  rape  his 
wife.  The  times  of  "conjugal  duties"  are  prescribed  in  the  Mish- 
nah  "according  to  the  rabbis'  estimate  of  the  woman's  notion  of 
what  would  satisfy  her,"  and  furthermore,  "if  he  sees  that  she  is 
asking  him  for  that  act,  by  attracting  his  attention  and  adorning 
herseif  in  front  of  him,  thcn  he  is  commanded  to  please  her  in  tliis 
matter   of   mitzvah"   (Avraham  ben   David,   ßa'alei  Ha-NefGsh, 
Sha'ar  Ha-Kedushah). 

Despite  the  trend  toward  increasing  woman's  rights  and  protec- 
tion in  many  areas  of  Halakhah,  two  major  notes  of  caution  are 
necessary.  First,  in  some  areas  of  women's  lives,  pcrhaps  most 
important  in  those  related  to  sexuality,  the  Halakhah  was  proba- 


INTRODUCTION  7 

bly  more  permissive  and  more  generous  to  women  than  life  itself. 
In  the  case  of  sexual  relations  between  husband  and  wife  the 
Halakhah  grants  all  the  rights  for  sexual  satisfaction  to  the  woman 
and  places  all  the  restraints  on  the  man.  I  suspect  that  in  reality, 
despite  the  laws  of  onah,  sex  more  often  was  initiated  and  con- 
ducted  to  satisfy  the  husband's  sexual  needs,  and  women  often 
responded  to  men's  sexual  demands  against  their  own  wishes  and 
pleasures.  Another  example  of  the  gap  between  Halakhah  and 
actual  practice  is  the  laws  regarding  the  menstruant  woman  (nid- 
dah).  The  Halakhah  requires  severe  restrictions  of  the  normal  in- 
timacies  between  husband  and  wife  during  the  niddah  period,  but 
does  not  prescribe  social  and  religious  ostracism.  However,  popu- 
lär attitudes  toward  the  niddah  included  the  notion  that  her  very 
breath  and  footsteps  contaminate,  so  that  one  should  avoid  any 
contact  with  her,  even  greeting  her  with  social  pleasantries.  It  was 
common  practice  for  the  niddah  to  abstain  from  the  synagogue 
during  the  period  of  her  impurity. 

A  gap  between  common  practice,  folk  beliefs,  and  populär  atti- 
tudes on  the  one  band,  and  formal  legal  principles  on  the  other,  is 
a  feature  of  all  organized  societies  governed  by  law.  Common 
wisdom  has  it  that  laws  normally  lag  behind  social  reality.  Per- 
missive, liberalizing  attitudes  begin  with  changes  in  populär 
mores  and  behavior,  and  only  later  enter  codified  law.  If  this  is 
true,  it  is  clearly  true  only  part  of  the  time.  In  the  case  of  some  of 
the  halakhic  material  presented  in  this  book  the  law  may  have 
preceded  common  practice  in  what  to  the  contemporary  eye  are 
liberal,  compassionate  attitudes  toward  women. 

The  second  note  of  caution  about  the  "liberal,"  or  even  "liberat- 
ing,"  trend  in  the  Halakhah  pertaining  to  women  concerns  its 
limitations.  Much  as  the  rabbis  and  later  legal  authorities  at  times 
impress  and  even  surprise  us  with  their  comprehension  of  the 
condition  of  women  in  their  society,  and  their  efforts  to  better  it, 
whatever  could  be  done  to  increase  women's  legal  rights  and  pro- 
tect  them  remained  within  a  legal  System  which  women  could 
never  penetrate.  The  authority  to  make  halakhic  decisions  has ' 
always  been  the  province  of  men.  Every  ordained  rabbi  (Ordina- 
tion today  is  usually  granted  by  a  formal  Institution — diyeshiva  or 


"  ISTRODUCnOS 

rabbinical  schooI-buJ  Jogally  is  vaJid  uhen  con/erred  by  an  indi- 
viduaJ  rabbi  of  recognized  stalurej  is  qualified  to  determine  HaJa- 
khah.  But  haJakhic  decisions  of  historicaJ  significance  are  made  in 
eacJi  generation  by  those  rabbis  vvho  can  display  both  extraordi- 
nary  leaming  in  their  published  works  (responsa,  halakhiccodcs 
and  commentaries)  and  can  count  on  a  substantial  following  in 
the  Community.  The  two  factors  of  course  usualiy  emerge  band  in 
band.  The  fact  that  both  factors  reflect  subjective  judgment  inoans 
that  while  our  view  of  the  prominent  halakhic  authorities  of  the 
past  IS  fairly  well  established.  at  any  given  historical  moment 
there  are  many  competing  clainis  for  the  "authoritative  lialakhic 
voice"  of  the  times.  Until  very  recently  women  played  no  role  in 
tiie  struggle  for  recognition  among  halakhists  and  in  the  evolution 
ot  the  Halakhah.  While  women  could  and  did  gain  more  halakhic 
rights  in  the  course  of  generations.  they  never  gained  halakhic 
power.  They  have  been  silent  recipients,  Outsiders  to  the  procoss. 

I  beheve  that  it  is  time  for  women  to  try  to  penetrate  the  world  of 
the  Halakhah.  They  need  to  acquire  the  tools  to  comprehend  ha- 
akhic  reasoning,  study  past  halakhic  rulings.  and  finally.  formu- 
late  their  own  views  of  the  Halakhah.  Women  must  take  upon 
themselves  the  study  of  Torah  from  which  they  are  legally  ex- 
empt.  Indeed.  all  Jews  who  are  preoccupied  with  fashioning  a 
Jewish  hfe  have  a  stake  in  understanding  the  Halakhah.  Rogard- 
less  of  their  definition.  secular  or  religious.  all  forms  of  contempo- 
rary  Jewish  life  must  arise  out  of  a  confrontation  with  the  past 
Whether  one  lives  in  harmony  with  tradition  or  in  tension  with  it 
one  must  contend  with  that  tradition.  Comprehending  the  Hala- 
khah is  necessary  for  a  Jewish  life.  whether  one  seeks  to  follow 
Jewish  law  or  depart  from  it. 

For  those  who  choose  to  study  the  Halakhah  without  following 
its  prescriptions  there  is  tension  and  perplexity  in  störe.  Why 
study  these  laws  when  one  has  no  Intention  of  heeding  them?  Can 
one  study  and  understand  the  Halakhah  while  rejecting  its  funda- 
mentally  imperative  nature?  It  seems  to  me  that  between  the  alter- 
natives of  studying  Ihe  Halakhah  in  ordcr  to  live  by  it  and  study- 
ing  it  as  a  rarefied  academic  pursuit  there  is  a  third  course.  It  is  a 
way  of  leaming  which  engages  the  sources  in  intelloctual  and 


INTRODUCTION  9 

personal  spheres,  allowing  them  to  become  part  of  one's  vocabu- 
lary  and  world  of  associations,  without  necessarily  becoming  pre- 
scriptions for  daily  life. 

In  Order  to  engage  in  meaningful  Jewish  discourse  today,  and  to 
formulate  personal  and  communal  ways  of  "being  Jewish"  in  the 
modern  period,  it  is  necessary  to  acquire  a  shared  "Jewish  lan- 
guage."  which  is  the  language  of  the  traditional  Jewish  sources.  If 
we  master  the  language  of  these  sources  and  use  them  as  an  an- 
chor,  we  can  talk  about  contemporary  problems  in  a  way  that 
connects  them  to  what  is  already  known  and  crystallized.  Other- 
wise  we  sever  the  connection  with  the  past  on  which  our  world 
rests.  In  order  to  understand  what  puzzles  and  concerns  us  in  the 
present  we  must  turn  to  the  past,  even  though  it  may  at  first  be 
more  confusing,  obscure,  and  alien  than  our  present.  In  the  case  of 
Halakhah,  for  many  Jews  today,  and  for  Jewish  women  in  particu- 
lar,  leaming  the  language  of  the  past  is  learning  a  foreign  lan- 
guage. Yet  this  language  is  crucial,  not  only  in  order  to  understand 
the  history  of  the  Halakhah  and  what  Jewish  life  has  been,  but  also 
to  formulate  Jewish  life  and  aspirations  today. 


MARRIAGE 


he  hallmarks  of  maturity  and  self-fulfillment  in  almost  all  cul- 
tures.  The  Pentateuch  and  the  historical  books  of  tho  Biblo  gener- 
ally  supply  US  with  accounts  of  the  marriages  of  their  more  promi- 
nent  figures.  The  most  dotaiied  of  those  accounts  aro  the  stories  of 
the  ZnT'       ??.'^''  P^'^triarchs.  Isaac  and  Jacob.  We  learn  of 

24)  We  learn  about  love  and  devotion  in  the  story  of  Jacob  who 

hrst  bride,  Leah,  and  anolher  sevcn  years  to  marrv  his  sornnrl 
belov  d  bnde,  Rachel  (Genesis  29).  But  when  w^look     r  sToc     ' 
legislation  about  marriage  we  find  a  void.  There  are  no  exnl icit 
prescnptions  concerning  requirements  for  marriage  (such  as  mini 
mum  age,  marriage  within  one's  class.  etc.)  nor  regarling  the  ^xTct 
procedure  necessary  for  effecting  marriage 

Rather  than  direct  legislation  about  marriage  we  find  rcferenco 
to  the  act  of  marriage  as  if  in  passing,  in  the  context  of  legislation 

thar^wZ  '""'  rT''  '^^  ^"-^"^P'^'  Deuteronomy  24  :  5  states 
that  When  a  man  takes  a  new  wife  he  shall  not  go  out  with  tho 
army  for  one  year,  nor  shall  ho  be  taxed  to  supply  the  army  ''  Tho 
purpose  of  this  text  is  to  legislate  the  exemption  of  a  newly  m  r- 

Takir  a  r  "^^'^l^^^y;:^  — ^  ^  special  consequenrof 
taking  a  new  wife,"  but  teils  us  nothing  about  how  a  man  goes 

t"who"ll    '  ''T''';  '^-^~y  22:13  doals  wifh 
with  hpH       H  1'  '  ""'^"  '"1  '""^'^  ''  '^^^"  f*-^"  has  inlercourse   • 
tTe     cn   '  ,'!;^;'^^\^^^"/^^  '^«r  «f  not  having  been  a  virgin  before 
their  cohabitation,  but  does  not  explicate  how  "taking  a  wife"  is 

44 


MARRIAGE 


45 


carried  out  in  the  first  place.  All  the  biblical  references  to  marriage 
are  characterized  by  a  lack  of  explicit  legislation  on  how  to  effect 

marriage. 
Most  of  the  references  to  marriage  in  the  Bible  have  two  more 

features  in  common: 

1.  The  use  of  the  term  "to  take"  (la-kahat)  to  designate  marriage 

2.  The  automatic  association  of  marriage  ("taking")  and  sexual 
relations 

If  the  nature  of  the  legal  act  of  "taking"  is  unclear,  what  comes 
after  it  is  as  clear  as  could  be:  the  groom  and  bride  have  sexual 
intercourse.  Now  there  are  two  possible  views  of  biblical  mar- 
riage: either  the  "taking"  is  the  same  thing  as  having  intercourse 
and  marriage  was  simply  effected  through  sexual  relations  and 
cohabitation,  or  taking  in  marriage  did  involve  procedure  and 
ceremony  but  these  were  determined  by  family  customs  and  com- 
munal  practice.  In  the  latter  case  it  may  have  been  unnecessary  to 
add  legislation  to  well-established  custom,  or  possibly  even  prob- 
lematic  if  there  were  considerable  variances  in  local  practices  and 
family  traditions.  Most  likely  the  reality  lay  somewhere  in  be- 
tween.  Probably  sexual  relations  were  the  act  which  made  a  mar- 
riage take  effect,  yet  they  were  surely  preceded  and  followed  by 
certain  ceremonies  and  celebrations.  Especially  among  the  afflu- 
ent  classes  in  society  we  can  expect  that  marriage  was  accompa- 
nied  by  a  set  procedure.  At  least  we  have  explicit  evidence  in  the 
case  of  Isaac  and  Rebecca  that  engagement  was  formulated  and 
celebrated  according  to  family  custom.^ 

The  Bible  then  supplies  us  with  plenty  of  evidence  about  mar- 
riage but  with  no  explicit  prescriptions.  Postbiblical  Halakhah 
relies  therefore  on  interpretation  of  the  biblical  text  in  legislating 
marriage.  The  cornerstone  of  this  legislation  is  the  legalistic  inter- 
pretation of  the  term  "taking"  which  characterizes  biblical  refer- 
ences to  marriage.  A  second  element  in  the  Halakhah  is  the  clear 
connection  between  the  act  of  marriage  and  the  act  of  sexual  inter- 
course. This  element,  as  we  shall  see,  becomes  a  problematic  one 
when  we  enter  the  talmudic  discussion. 


«  » 


_  1 


*  ». 


.c 


-•« 


MARRIAGE 


47 


1  ,1 


The  central  text  for  the  Hdlakhah  on  marriage  is  the  very  first 
Paragraph  of  Tractate  Kiddushin  (Betrothals).  The  first  misUnoh 
in  the  tractate  contains  in  hrief  the  fundamental  laws  of  marriage 
as  well  as  the  complications  and  problems  which  ensue  from 
them.  These  are  the  primary  issues  in  our  discussion,  and  we  shall 
therefore  follow  the  text  of  Kiddushin  2a  throughout  tliis  chapter. 

Mishnah:  A  woman  is  acquired  in  three  ways  and  acquires  herseif  in  two. 
She  is  acquired  by  money,  by  deed,  or  by  intercourse.  "By  money":  Bet 
Shammai  maintain:  a  dinar  or  the  worth  of  a  dinar.  Bet  Hiliel  ruie:  a 
perutah  or  the  worth  of  a  pmilah.  And  how  much  is  a  pcrutah?  An  eighth 
of  an  Italian  issar. 

And  she  acquires  herseif  by  divorce  or  by  the  death  of  her  husband.  A 
yevamah  is  acquired  by  intercourse  and  acquires  herseif  by  Imlitzah  or 
by  the  yabam's  death. 

Gemara:  "A  woman  is  acquired."  Why  does  he  State  here:  "A  woman  is 
acquired."  while  elsewhere  he  teaches  "A  man  betrothes"  (Kiddushin 
41a)?  Because  he  wishes  to  state  "money."  And  how  do  we  know  Ihat 
money  effects  betrothal  [kiddushin)?  By  deriving  the  meaning  of  "taking" 
from  the  field  of  Ephron.  Here  it  is  written  "When  a  man  takes  a  wife" 
(Deut.  24  :  1)  and  there  it  is  written  "I  will  give  you  money  for  the  fiold, 
take  it  from  me"  (Gen.  23  :  12).  Moreover  "taking"  is  designated  acquisi- 
tion  {kmyan),  for  it  is  written:  "The  field  which  Abraham  acquired"  (Gen. 
49:30),  and  also  "men  shall  acquire  fields  for  money"  (Jer.  32:15). 
Therefore.  he  teaches  "A  woman  is  acquired."  Then  let  bim  state  there 
(Kiddushin  41a)  "A  man  acquires."  He  first  employs  biblical  phraseology 
but  subsequently  the  rabbinical  idiom.  Now.  what  does  the  rabbinical 
idiom  [mekadesh]  connote?  That  he  interdicts  her  to  all  men  as  hekdiish. 
But  why  not  teach  here  "a  man  acquires"?  Because  he  wants  to  teach  the 
second  clause  "and  acquires  herseif,"  which  refers  to  the  woman.  He 
therefore  teaches  the  first  clause  likewise.  with  reference  to  her.  Hien  let 
him  State:  "A  man  acquires  .  .  .  and  makes  her  acquire"?  [No]  Because 
there  is  the  husband's  death  where  it  is  not  he  who  acquires  (herself)  for 
her,  but  Heaven  who  confers  jherself]  upon  her.  Alternatively,  wer«  it 
taught  "he  acquires"  I  might  have  thought  even  against  her  will,  lience  il 
is  stated:  "A  woman  is  acquinul";  only  with  her  consent,  and  not  without 
lt.  lKiddushin2a-bl 

The  mishnah  opens  with  a  general  Statement:  "A  woman  is 
acquired  in  three  ways  and  acquires  herseif  in  two."  The  central 
term  in  this  phrase  requiros  cxplanation:  what  is  the  meaning  of 
"acquire"  and  what  does  it  have  to  do  with  marriage?  Indeed  Ihe 


Gemara  which  foUows  immediately  addresses  this  very  question 
The  term  "acquisition,"  kinyan.  normally  refers  to  purchase  of 
property.  The  term  commonly  used  by  the  rabbis  to  refer  to  mar- 
riage  is  kiddushin  (betrothal).  just  like  the  name  of  the  tractate 
The  Gemara  begins  with  the  question  of  why  this  mishnaic  text 
uses  the  term  «'acquire"  instead  of  "betroth"  (mekadesh)  which  is 
used  in  other  passages  about  marriage.  The  answer  is:    Because  he 
[the  rabbi  who  cited  this  halakhah]  wishes  to  state  money.      In 
other  words,  money  is  clearly  connected  to  the  term    acquire, 
since  acquisition  of  property  is  done  throughpayment  o  money 
The  mishnah  wants  to  teach  us  that  marriage.  like  acquisition.  can 
also  be  effected  through  payment  of  money.  How  dowe  know 
that?  asks  the  Gemara.  "By  deriving  the  meaning  of  taking  from 
the  field  of  Ephron."  The  field  of  Ephron  was  purchased  by  Abra- 
ham for  a  burial  plot.  We  know  that  Abraham  "acquired    it  be- 
cause  we  are  told  that  he  paid  for  it  a  certain  sumo   money  and 
because  another  text  (Gen.  49  :  30)  refers  to  the  field  with  that 
specific  term  «'acquired"  (kanah).  The  field  which  Abraham  ac- 
quired  is  also  referred  to  in  the  biblical  text  as  a  field  which  was 
^taken."  Therefore  the  purchase  of  the  field  of  Ephron  teaches  us 
that  "taking"  and  "acquiring"  mean  the  same  thing.  They  both 
mean  acquisition  by  payment  of  money.  N«^^:^^^;!P^^^•;^"1^^^^^ 
riage  is  referred  to  in  the  biblical  texts  as  "taking'  (  when  a  man 
takes  a  wife."  etc.).  Thus  we  may  place  marriage  in  a  chjun  of 
identities:  purchase  by  money  =  "acquisition    =    taking    -  mar- 
riage. And  thus  we  learn  that  a  woman  may  be  acquired     by 
money''    from    the    very   formulation   "A   woman    is    acquired 

However.  this  acquisition  of  a  woman  by  money  is  not  purchase 
of  property.  For  one  thing.  a  man  may  not  seil  the  woman  he 
"acquires"  for  a  wife.  For  another.  the  amount  of  money  requ.red 
for  acquiring  a  woman  is  so  small  that  we  could  not  poss.bly  th.nk 
that  we  are  dealing  with  a  regulär  financial  transaction  here.  Even 
though  there  is  a  dispute  between  Bet  HiUel  and  Bet  Shamma.  as 
to  the  sum  of  money  required  for  kmyan  ("Bat  Shamma.  ma.ntam: 
a  dinar  or  the  worth  of  a  dinar.  Bet  Hiliel  rule:  a  Peru'ah  oj  he 
worth  of  a  perutah").  both  schools  cite  mmimal  sums.  Bet  H.llcl 


4ä 


U  O.VfE.V  ASD  fEWlSH  LA  W 


cites  the  smaJIest  coin,  a  perutah.  and  their  ruiing  is  accepted  as 
halakhab.  AU  of  this  goes  (o  show  that  the  amount  of  nionoy  is 
immaterial  because  the  acqiiisition  is  symbolic.  If  theexchangeof 
money  is  not  an  actual  purcliase.  what  then  is  the  "real"  ineaning 
of  acquiring  a  woman  in  man  läge?  What  are  the  actual  legal  imoli- 
cationsofthisact? 

The  Gemara  illuminates  llie  mcaning  of  marriage  by  contrasling 
the  terminology  used  here,  "acquiring."  and  the  terminology  usod 
eisewhere  in  the  Mishnah,  kuldushin.  About  the  use  of  "acquirc" 
here  and  "betroth"  (mekadosh)  later  in  this  tractate  the  Gemara 
says:  "He  uses  biblical  phraseoiogy  here  but  subsequently  tho 
rabbinical  idiom."  To  the  question  of  what  the  rabbinical  tenn 
Jciddushin  means  and  connotes  the  Gemara  answers:  "That  ho 
mlerdicts  her  to  all  other  men  as  hekdesh."  Hekdesh  is  a  tcrin 
which  describes  an  object  that  has  been  set  aside  for  some  pur- 
pose.  usually  a  ritual  one,  and  may  not  be  touched  by  anyone  nor 
used  to  any  other  end.  This  is  the  original  meaning  of  the  word 
kadosh   "holy"  or  "sanctifiod."  an  object  or  place  that  is  set  aside 
trom  all  other  (profane)  things  and  remains  separated  from  them 
In  the  act  of  kiddushin  (betrolhal)  a  man  sefs  bis  wife  aside  and 
forbids  her  to  all  other  men.  According  to  the  Halakhab  a  married 
woman  has  an  exclusive  sexual  relationship  with  her  husband 
She  IS  "out  of  bounds"  to  all  other  men  and  is  "forbiddcn  to  tho 
rest  of  the  world"  (asurah  Je-ku/ei  alma). 

The  act  of  acquisition  is  an  act  in  which  the  man  sets  the  woman 
aside  for  himself  only.  The  term  kiddushin  is  crucial  for  making 
this  point  since  it  includes  the  notion  of  exclusivity.  The  notion  of 
acquisition  does  not  prevent  sharing.  One  might  have  thought  if 
only  the  term  kinyan  was  used  that.  just  as  a  man  may  share 
property  he  had  purchased  with  others.  so  he  may  share  the  wifo 
he  had  "acquired"  with  fellowmen.  Therefore  the  concept  of  "tak- 
ing"  in  marriage  is  a  fusion  of  kinyan  and  hekdesh. 

The  notion  of  kiddushin,  that  the  husband  "interdicts  her  to  all 
other  men."  applies  to  wonien  only.  A  woman  who  is  married  is 
only  allowed  to  have  sexual  rolations  with  her  husband.  Her  hus- 
band. however.  is  not  forbidden  to  have  relations  with  other 
women.  provided  that  those  other  women  are  not  married  them- 


MARRIAGE 


49 


selves.  This  passage  is  a  reflection  of  the  system  of  polygyny 
which  prevailed  in  the  Halakhah.  A  man  may  have  several  wives 
whilc  a  woman  may  only  have  one  husband.  Undoubtedly.  one  of 
the  reasons  for  this  restriction  was  to  protect  children  from  doubts 

concerning  paternity. 

The  Talmud  illustrates  the  notion  of  polygyny  (inaccurately 
also  called  polygamy:  polygyny  refers  to  multiple  wives,  polyg- 
amy  to  multiple  partners  of  either  sex)  with  a  concrete  example: 

Raba  Said:  (If  he  saysj  "Become  betrothed  to  a  half  of  me."  she  is  be- 
trothed.  [If  he  says]  "Half  of  you  is  betrothed  to  me,"  she  is  not  betrothed. 
(Kiddushin  7al 

Raba  states  that  a  man  who  asks  a  woman  to  marry  half  of  him  is 
contracting  a  valid  marriage.  Another  half  of  him  may  marry 
another  woman.  In  fact.  according  to  the  Halakhah  which  Raba 
relies  on.  a  man  may  "split  himself"  into  many  more  parts.  that  is, 
he  may  marry  as  many  women  as  he  wishes.  The  Talmud  states 
only  one  limitation  on  the  number  of  wives  a  man  may  marry  and 
this  law  only  applies  to  the  king.  The  king  is  not  allowed  to  marry 
more  than  eighteen  women.  for  a  larger  number  would  interfere 
with  the  fulfillment  of  his  political  duties.  as  we  learn  from  the 
case  of  Solomon  who  had  a  thousand  wives  (Sanhedrin  21a).  A 
woman.  on  the  other  band,  may  only  marry  one  man  so  that  a  man 
who  asks  to  betroth  only  half  of  his  bride  ("Half  of  you  is  be- 
trothed to  me")  is  attempting  the  impossible.  Such  a  betrothal  is 
not  valid  and  "she  is  not  betrothed." 

Raba's  ruiing  as  well  as  other  passages  in  the  Talmud  make  it 
clear  that  polygyny  is  permitted.  A  man  may  marry  as  many  wives 
BS  he  wishes  as  long  as  he  continues  to  fulfiU  his  marital  and 
sexual  Obligations  (see  Chapter  5  on  Sexuality  and  Marital  Rela- 
tions) toward  all  of  them.  The  rabbis  speculated  that  four  wives 
are  the  realistic  maximum  so  that  the  husband  can  devote  one 
week  out  of  the  month  to  each  to  fulfill  the  duty  of  onah  (Yevamot 
44a)  However.  a  reading  of  the  Talmud  as  a  historical  document 
Shows  that  these  were  theoretical  speculations.  We  do  not  hear  of 
a  Single  rabbi  who  had  more  than  one  wife  and  we  have  no  spe- 


50 


WOMEN  AND  JEW/ISH  LAW 


cific  C£is5  dl frd  h}  v/ÜJ: 


1   t 


I    '     • 


**'-*£:£     £.*fil 


-Lif 


--^-^  -  T-i-"''  .  A*!^:.  ii^ J  seierai 


^'-^l"  i:_' —  *     iwr?^-"^ 


r     r  — , 


-=^  £-j: 


i« 


=*^     ^= ^=^   -  ."— if   ••f^  4IJ  xiof 


licllTotd  TrT  '^"'  '"^'''"'  "■''  ""'  '^^^^"■"^  '■"  '^«  P^^'t^'b- 

.n  Ph  S  '"^^'^  '"  "'^'  ^'^^'«^  Aß««  f«^  'hose  /evvs  livin« 

in  Chr  stian  countr.es.  Christiani.y  forbade  polygyny  aJ.oßXr 
so  for  /evvs  living  under  Chris.ian  rule  and  influenae  i.ßSa^^^^^ 

permit  it  in  their  laws.  By  ihe  ninth  and  tenlh  cenfuries  (he  -.vpr 
s.on    o  polygyny  (which  was  n.os.  probably  never  äcU  a  ly  r'  r  ',  -" 

•ced  by  the  Jews  in  Europe)  bo^an  to  take  the  form  of  p  öh  bi  ons 
setm  Community  practice  a„,l  rul..  (takanot).  Trad.C  y  "u 
dehn.t.ve  Order  against  polygyny  is  attributed  to  Rabbon     Ger 

that^it  had  already  been  accep.ed  in  many  communities  before  bis 
The  liorem  fwrit  of  excommunicalionl  accordino  fn  il.»  ..,11         t 

edilion))       "^""'^'"'  °f  Rothenburg  (ca.  1220-1293).  No.  1022  (IVague 

thJ';orro;'l'"r  °^  ''^'^u'""  '^"'^^°'"  °"  P^'y^yny  is  stated  in 

derivedluch  oHr*  '  *^'"'  <'   '^'^''""'"""'^^"°"-  ^1-  rabbis 
derived  much  of  their  power  and  legal  authority  from  tho  fact  that 

hey  could  Order  a  person  who  breaks  the  ruies  of  the  communitv 

o  be  excommunicated  and  ban  any  contact  with  him  When  S 

there  IS  a  problem:  one  cannot  go  back  and  change  the  Talmud 
and  the  Statements  there  which  permit  this  practice  The  proSi 
.on  .s   herefore  introduced  as  a  new  layer  a  new  ru  ino  callod  a 
okanah.  Since  the  Bible  and  Talmud  do'^ot  forb.d  t  the  |ö  ibi 

utLdtv't'T  r."*  '^  '"''^'"  "P  -'^h  a  different  sou  ce  of 
authonty.  namely.  the  authority  of  the  Community  and  its  leading 


1 


MARRIAGE 


51 


rabbis.  Anyone  who  violates  the  takanah  cannot  be  threatened 
with  appropriate  retribution  since  neither  the  Bible  nor  the  Mish- 
nah  and  Talmud  prescribe  punishment  for  polygyny.  Therefore 
the  violator  must  be  threatened  by  being  banned  from  the  Commu- 
nity whose  takanah  he  has  violated. 

The  ban  of  Rabbenu  Gershom  on  polygyny  was  only  accepted 
by  a  portion  of  the  worldwide  Jewish  Community  of  the  Middle 
Ages.  by  Ashkenazic  Jewry  which  was  within  the  domain  of 
Christianity.  The  Jews  who  resided  in  Islamic  countries  did  not 
accept  this  ban  and  among  them  polygyny  was  practiced,  even 
though  it  was  rather  rare.*  This  was  possible  in  Islamic  countries 
since  polygyny  is  permitted  in  Islam  (a  man  may  marry  up  to  four 
wives).  In  the  State  of  Israel,  where  Ashkenazic  and  Sephardic 
Jews  have  come  together,  the  differing  practices  posed  a  problem. 
A  Prohibition  on  polygyny  was  enacted  by  the  State  of  Israel  as 
part  of  the  definition  and  consolidation  of  the  rabbinical  laws 
applying  to  personal  Status  (dinei  ishut),  and  was  imposed  on 
Jews  from  all  countries  alike.  However.  those  Jews  who  arrived  in 
Israel  with  more  than  one  wife  (and  this  was  particularly  true 
among  the  Jews  of  Yemen)  were  allowed  to  maintain  their  polygy- 

nous  marriages. 

Finally,  it  must  be  understood  that  the  ban  of  Rabbenu  Gershom 
does  not  have  the  Status  of  an  immutable  law  and  in  very  special 
circumstances  may  be  revoked.  Such  revocation  requires,  as 
stated  in  the  responsum  of  the  Maharam,  the  consent  of  one  hun- 
dred rabbis  from  three  different  regions.  The  circumstances  war- 
ranting  revocation  of  the  ban  of  Rabbenu  Gershom  are  extraordi- 
nary,  such  as  when  the  wife  cannot  accept  a  writ  of  divorce  (get) 
because  she  has  disappeared.  when  she  has  apparently  died  but 
there  is  no  proof  of  her  death.  when  she  has  become  insane,  or 
when  she  stubbornly  refuses  without  reasonable  cause  to  consent 
to  a  get  (regarding  the  requirement  that  the  woman  accept  the  writ 
of  divorce,  see  Chapter  3).  In  other  words.  in  extreme  cases  where 
a  man  is  bound  to  a  woman  he  can  neither  live  with  nor  divorce, 
the  ban  of  Rabbenu  Gershom  may  be  lifted  so  the  man  may  marry 
a  second  wife."  We  can  appreciate  the  importance  of  this  "loop- 
hole"  when  we  realize  that  it  is  not  available  for  women.  A 


I  • 


(  . 


uoman  can  never  be  aiJöued  to  maiT>-  another  man  unJess  her 
husband  divorces  her  or  dies,  even  if  herhusband  is  insane  orhas 
been  gone  and  not  heard  of  for  thirty  years.  A  woman  in  such 
circumstances  is  called  an  agunah  (one  who  is  bound),  and  we 
shall  return  to  the  grave  problems  of  such  a  Situation  in  Chapter  4. 
The  Mishnah  cites  a  second  way  of  effecting  marriage:  "by 
deed."  How  is  the  vaUdity  of  the  deed  for  effecting  kiddushin 
proven?  The  use  of  a  deed  [shiar)  for  effecting  marriage  is  drawn 
from  its  use  to  dissolve  marriage: 

How  do  we  know  that  with  a  deed  [one  can  effect  marriage)  as  well?  It  is 
logical.  Since  money  which  cannot  release  [from  marriage)  enters  [one 
into  marriage),  then  a  deed  which  does  release  should  not  enter  one  [into 
marriage)  as  well? 

And  should  you  say:  "A  deed  should  release  and  enter"?  The  "at- 
tacker" [kafegor]  should  l)ecome  the  ''defender"  [sanejgor)?  The  words  of 
one  are  different  from  the  words  of  the  other.  Could  you  say  the  same 
about  money,  perhaps?  Namely,  that  this  money  is  different  ifrom  that 
money?  The  nature  of  money  is  the  same  here  and  there.  [Kiddushin  Sa) 

The  use  of  a  deed  is  derived  from  the  procedure  of  divorce.  One 
uses  money  in  order  to  effect  marriage  but  cannot  use  monoy  to 
dissolve  marriage  through  divorce.  Since  divorce  is  the  graver  act 
of  the  two,  a  deed  which  can  release  from  marriage  (i.e.,  a  get) 
should  certainly  have  tho  power  to  enter  one  into  marriage.  This 
logical  argument  may  be  assailed  by  a  question:  If  a  deed  which 
dissolves  a  marriage  is  the  "attacker"  of  the  marriage,  is  it  reason- 
able  to  say  that  the  very  same  thing,  a  deed,  can  be  the  "dofender" 
of  marriage,  i.e.,  that  it  can  effect  marriage  to  begin  with?  The 
answer  is  that  it  is  sensible  because  there  is  a  diffcrence  between 
the  words  of  one  deed  and  the  other:  these  words  enter  one  into 
marriage  while  those  release  the  bonds  of  marriage.  Porhaps,  then, 
by  the  same  logic  we  could  argue  that  money  may  be  iised  to  effect 
divorce.  Since  money  elTects  marriage  we  could  argue  tliat  it 
ought  to  dissolve  marriage  as  well,  and  say  that  the  money  used 
for  kiddushin  is  different  from  the  money  used  for  a  divorce.  No, 
answers  the  Gemara,  you  could  not  make  that  argumont  since 
money  is  the  same  whenever  you  use  it;  a  coin  is  always  a  coin. 


MARRIAGE 


53 


and  clear  on  this  score:  when  a  man  taKes  a  wne  .„  .^„j 

i^tercourse  with  her.  The  term  for  intercourse.  b,  ah   >«  derived 
from  the  common  biblical  euphemisms  "ba  aleha    (  he  came 

-r:;ra;^Ä^^^^^^^^^^  ways  of  effecUn, 

nf  the  three  ways  is  vaiid,  as  siaieu  m  mc  j  ^m  mt 

01  me  uiicc  w  jr  ^    ntercourse    (Ji, 

Stlhi:',  :rHo'wi:\n  .hatldlc  d„cus.o„  we  See  .He 

emergence  of  some  changes: 

l  Sro^;Ä°r  ■■'^uraTr^  ™o„e.  .  a„  o*.  o, 

.  ''■l'C:ödTüon'7r::u,ren„en.  o,  pr,or  arrange.en.  o.  ,he 

marriage  (shiddukhin). 

These  changes  are  summarized  in  the  following  passage  about  a 
man  who  be'trothed  a  woman  with  an  object  worth  no  less  but  no 
morethanaperutah: 

A  certaln  n,=.  be.ro.hed  w,,h  »  7tÄw!;'-Aott1f  IS  Ä" 
„p„„  R»^b,  Ah.  ^n  H»n.  »„,  o  R  bb  |o.ph._^  H  _^^^^      1^  ^„^ 

■reC:r °t'wi."o  r„rÄi:r  Ä^is .  P-e.  ....s. . 

divorce.  ...  .      t-        n  ♦v.r^co  Pav  inflicted  no  punishment, 

The  Nehardeans  maintain:  For  all  »^"f«^^,'' '"' ^  aV^anRe^  Others 
excepting  for  betrothal  by  »"♦«^'^"""^^'^'^"„"iK  uSKness.  |Kid- 
stale:  Even  with  prior  arrangement— on  account  oi 

dushinl2bl 


u 


t  -  ' 


~    f 


^u 


*   1 


,t.  - 


MARRIAGE 


55 


ipinr  (Lnj  Licccr^uju.  lüvivftfu  rr.>ir  woj  i-Lfo  i£jz  visfw  er  mc-  rizci  L.^ 
consuJted.  Rabbi  Joseph.  Rabbi  Joseph  lesponded  by  citing  the  di- 
vergent üpinions  oi  Riiv  ar^d  Samuel,  each  lequiiing  a  diiieient 
punishment,  and  advised  Rabbi  Aha  to  appJy  both  measures.  The 
man  should  be  flogged  in  accordance  with  the  opinion  of  Rav. 
Flogging  was  the  punishmoiit  for  mardut,  rebolliousness  and  disre- 
gard  for  rabbinical  authority  and  for  the  customs  of  the  Community. 
Despite  the  flogging  Rav  apparently  let  the  marriage  stand.  This  we 
conclude  from  the  fact  that  Samuel,  who  is  in  disagreement  with 
Rav.  required  that  the  man  he  compelled  to  divorco  his  now  wife. 
Rabbi  Joseph  in  his  answer  to  Aha  recommends  that  the  man  both 
be  flogged  and  forced  to  divorce  his  wife,  in  other  words,  a  more 
stringent  view  than  the  viow  of  cither  Rav  or  Samuel. 

Rav  is  attributed  with  a  whole  list  of  cases  in  which  he  punished 
the  offender  with  flogging:  "Anyone  who  betrothed  in  the  market- 
place,  or  by  intercourse,  or  without  prior  arrangement,  etc.**  All 
these  cases  involve  actions  which  are  not  illegal  (on  the  contrary. 
betrothal  by  intercourse  is  mandated  in  the  Mishnah)  but  which 
violale  acccptcd  custom  and  undcrminc  the  authority  of  the  rabbis. 
There  is  another  tradition  cited  here  which  minimizes  the  number 
of  cases  in  which  Rav  called  for  punishment  by  flogging.  It  is  the 
tradition  cited  in  the  name  of  the  Nehardeans  who  claimed  that  Rav 
only  punished  one  offenso  by  flogging:  betrothal  by  intercourse 
without  prior  arrangement.  According  to  the  Nehardeans,  Rav  per- 
mitted  betrothal  by  intercourse  as  long  as  the  marriage  had  been 
prearranged  and  agreed  upon  by  the  family  of  the  bride  (that  is  the 
füll  meaning  of  shiddukhin).  He  only  forbade,  and  thus  punished. 
betrothal  which  was  effected  by  intercourse  '*on  the  spot,"  without 
consultation  and  approval.  This  tradition  is  disputed  by  "others" 
who  Claim  that  Rav  flogged  anyone  who  betrothed  by  intercourse. 
even  if  there  were  shiddukhin  beforehand.  This  last  opinion  fur- 
nishes  a  reason  as  well:  *'on  account  of  licentiousness."  That  is. 
betrothal  by  intercourse  could  all  too  easily  smack  of  sexual  moti- 
vation.  If  one  betrothes  by  intercourse  there  is  room  to  wondcr 
whether  the  füll  solemnity  of  kiddushin  was  intended  in  the  act,  or 
whether  sexual  pleasure  was  foremost  in  the  man*s  mind. 

The  last  two  opinions  in  the  passage  from  the  Gemara  indicate 


clearly  that  betrothal  by  intercourse  was  considered  the  least  de 
s  rab  e    the  least  proper,  and  the  most  suspect  form  of  effcct.ng 
sirable.  j»^!.  '^°;  »;.  J'ß.^^,    g^j  the  Mishnah  not  only  permit  bu 

Samuel  have  with  betrothal  by  a  perulah  or  an  objec    1  teraiiy 
woT   peruiah  is  similar.  as  is  the  problem  with  b««-  '-  ^  h«. 
marketplace  and  betrothal.  through  any  means.  without  sh.dduk 
Tin  All  these  instances  have  the  same  feature  in  common:  betro- 
S  is   f fected Without  parental  approval  or  involvement  w.  hou 
communal  sanction.  and  without  rabbm.c  -j;^:°  .  T'^^    ji^e 
rrux  of  the  problem  with  the  three  ways  of  effecting  marriage 
They  rciu  re  very  simple  procedures  and  Prescribe  no  form  of 
lutside  cöntrol.  With  betrothal  by  intercourse  there  is  addit.on- 
«llv  the  "tainf'of  free  sexual  relations.  .  ,    -,  a^ 

Mlrriaie  is  a  very  serious  matter.  In  a  traditional  soc.ety  it  de- 
termTnTs  not  o'nly  the  nature  of  family  Hfe  and  personal  happmess 
ofThe  Supt:but  also  cements  the  social  and  econom.-^^^^^^ 
nf  tliP  f amilies  Social  expectations  and  economic  needs  seem   o 
Indatetrmarriage  brcontrolled  by  the  Pa-ts  of  the  bnde 
and  eroom  and  that  society's  representatives  sanction  the  mar 
iage'nd  participate  in  its  celebration.  Yet  accor^-g  to  th   Hala- 
khah  in  Kiddushin.  a  man  may  marry  at  bis  will  as  long  as  he 
finds     woman  who  consents  to  intercourse  or  accepts  a  peru  ah 

man  lvbe?roth  with  a  perutah  or  by  intercourse.  these  practces 

summarizes  the  rulings  on  the  three  ways  of  effecting  k.ddushm 
clearly  and  succinctly: 

11  «  ^f  fVi*.  art  i«;  thus  1" A  woman  is  acquired  in  three 


56 


WOMEN  AND  JE WISH  LAW 


MARRIAGE 


57 


I-! 


:il 


selves  to  betroth  with  money  or  its  equivalent.  Also,  if  a  man  wants  to 
betroth  with  a  deed  he  may  do  so.  But  we  do  not  acquire  with  intercourse 
as  the  first  means.  If  a  man  does  betroth  with  intercourse  he  is  flogged  for 
rebelliousness  so  that  Israel  should  not  become  promiscuous  in  this  mat- 
ter, despite  the  fact  that  his  betrothal  Stands  as  valid  betrothal.  And  the 
same  holds  for  one  who  betrothes  without  engagement  or  one  who  be- 
trothes  in  the  marketpiace:  he  is  flogged  for  rebelliousness  so  that  this 
does  not  accustom  people  to  licentiousness.  (Maimonides,  Mishneh 
Torah,  Seder  Nashim,  Hilkhot  Ishut  3  :  21-22] 

The  Halakhah  after  tlie  Mishnaic  period  took  pains  to  eliminate 
the  practice  of  betrothing  by  intercourse.  with  an  insif^nificant 
object  worth  no  more  Ihan  a  perutah,  and  without  proper  prepara- 
tion  and  decorum.  Bolrothal  was  preceded  by  engagoment  [shid- 
dukhin)  and  effectod  with  a  marriage  contract  (ketubnh)  and  an 
object  of  significant  value.  Intercourse  was  postponed  until  after 
the  ceremony  of  kiddiishin  and  acquired  new  significance  as  the 
necessary  consummalion  of  betrothal. 

The  legal  validity  of  intercourse,  an  exchange  of  a  perulcih,  otc, 
for  effecting  marriage  could  not  be  erased  or  undone.  Problems 
resulting  from  this  fact  remain  a  constant  feature  in  the  Halakhah. 
The  most  common  probloms  were  various  forms  of  elopement 
(nisu'ei  seter).  These  were  marriages  against  the  wish  of  Ihe  par- 
ents,  or  marriages  in  which  a  particularly  young  or  naive  bride 
was  conned  into  accejiling  betrothal. 

For  generations  after  Maimonides  the  problem  of  inappropriate 
marriages  persisted.  The  Community  had  to  legislate  severe  pun- 
ishments  in  order  to  assure  that  marriages  take  place  in  front  of 
two  witnesses  and  a  minyan  of  non-witnesses  in  the  proper  cere- 
monial  manner  of  huppah  ve-kiddushin  to  assure  the  sanction  of 
family  and  the  religious  establishment.  Thus,  for  example,  the 
minutes  of  the  Council  of  Iho  Community  of  Lithuania  recorded  in 
the  seventeenth  Century  include  a  takanah  (ruling)  which  pun- 
ishes  anyone  who  marries  without  proper  ceremony  and  Commu- 
nity sanction  with  flogging  and  excommunication: 

* 

Anyone  who  deliberately  and  brazenly  violates  the  customs  of  Israel  by 
marrymg  a  woman  or  a  virgin  without  [a  minyan|  and  a  huppnh  shall, 
together  with  the  witnesses  who  assisted  him  in  this  foul  diied,  he  excom- 


municated  and  ostracized  in  this  world  and  in  the  world  to  come.  Their 
sin  shall  not  be  forgiven  and  the  court  shall  punish  them  severely  by 
hanging  them  from  a  post  and  administering  forty  lashes  without  any 
possibility  of  ransom  (bail).  They  shall  be  punished  and  tortured  with  all 
manner  of  suffering  and  excommunications  as  a  means  of  preventing  the 
promiscuity  of  the  generation.  [Minute  Book  of  the  Council  of  Lithuania, 
Item  No.  43  (S.  Dubnowedition)r 

The  extremely  severe  punishments  mandated  in  this  ruhng  (forty 
lashes  without  the  possibihty  of  substituting  a  fine  for  some  of 
them  could  in  some  cases  amount  to  a  death  sentence!)  suggest  the 
extent  of  the  Opposition  to  marriages  against  the  wishes  of  the 
parents  and  the  sanction  of  the  Community. 

The  problem  of  elopement  was  particularly  severe  in  the  mish- 
naic and  talmudic  periods  and  the  early  Middle  Ages,  because  in 
addition  to  betrothing  at  an  early  age  (even  before  the  girl  reached 
twelve)  it  was  common  to  wait  a  year  between  betrothal  (kiddu- 
shin)  and  full-fledged  married  lifo  (nisu'in).  This  meant  that  for  a 
year  the  bride  and  groom  were  legally  fully  married  but  were  not 
living  as  husband  and  wife.  The  waiting  period  was  susceptible  to 
a  change  of  heart  by  either  party,  or  to  the  entry  of  another  man 
interested  in  the  bride.  The  Talmud  reports  a  case  of  a  man  who 
"snatched"  a  woman  who  had  been  betrothed  as  a  minor,  had 
become  an  adult,  and  was  about  to  enter  her  marriage: 

. .  .  it  once  happened  in  Naresh  that  a  man  betrothed  a  girl  when  she 
was  a  minor.  When  she  became  an  adult  and  he  placed  her  on  the  bridal 
chair  another  man  came  and  snatched  her  away  from  him.  Even  though 
Rav's  disciples,  Rabbi  Bruna  and  Rabbi  Hananel,  were  present,  they  did 
not  require  her  to  obtain  a  bill  of  divorce  from  the  second  man  .  .  .  Rav 
Ashi  said:  He  acted  improperly  so  they  treated  him  improperly  also  and 
annulled  his  betrothal.  Said  Rabina  to  Rav  Ashi:  [Your  explanation  isl 
satisfactory  where  the  man  betrothed  with  money;  what  if  he  betrothed 
by  intercourse?  The  rabbis  declared  his  intercourse  to  be  an  act  of  mere 
fornication.  [Yevamot  llOal 

As  the  girl  in  Naresh  was  preparing  to  enter  her  marriage  with  the 
man  who  had  betrothed  her  earlier,  another  man  came  and 
"snatched"  her,  that  is.  took  her  and  betrothed  her.  There  was 
some  disagreement  between  the  rabbis  about  the  response  to  this 


58 


U'OMEN  .^VD  JEWISH  L.\\V 


n 


MARRIAGE 


59 


-.«^ 


u.U. 


^^ux~^ 


J£lL'  rruif 


ilL'-.     IV 


\lt 


.a^ 


z^ 


O-C 


the 

fiDff 


was  legaliv  fürtidden  ro  him^  ar^d  scxc  cc^Aia  rcCi^ni  ro  hxrr  grcAjm 
uithout  needing  a  divorce  from  the  second  man.  Rav  Ashi  feit  that 
the  initial  betrothal  did  not  have  effect  since  it  was  done  before 
the  girl  reached  maturity  and  had  not  yet  been  followed  by  inter- 
course  and  nisu'in.  Thus  Rav  Ashi  believes  that  the  betrothal  of 
the  "snatcher"  did  hold,  and  in  order  to  do  justice  and  return  the 
woman  to  her  groom  the  rabbis  annulled  this  betrothal. 

Rav  Ashi  explains  that  the  rabbis  retaliated  against  the 
"snatcher"  for  bis  impropor  betrothal  by  doing  him  a  nasty  turn 
and  annullihg  his  act  of  kiddiishin.  Rabina  wonders  about  Ihis 
annulment.  If  the  betrothal  v^as  done  by  money  the  rabbis  have 
the  authority  to  expropriate  the  man's  money  rotroactively  so 
that  legally  speaking  the  money  was  not  his  at  the  timc  of  the 
betrothal  and  he  could  not  validly  betroth  with  it.  But,  asks  r<a- 
bina,  the  rabbis  cannot  very  well  retroactively  eliminate  his  abil- 
ity  to  have  intercourse.  Therefore,  if  betrothed  by  intercourse, 
how  can  the  betrothal  be  annulled?  The  answer  of  Rav  Ashi  is 
that  the  rabbis  have  the  power  to  declare  retroactively  that  the 
act  of  intercourse  was  an  act  of  mere  sexual  promiscuity  (he'IInt 
zenut)  and  not  an  act  of  betrothal. 

The  possibility  of  annuUing  a  marriage  could  furnish  a  Solution 
for  the  Problem  of  elopement  and  inappropriate  marriago.  How- 
ever,  it  is  a  rather  difficult  procedure  to  defend  since  both  retroac- 
tive  expropriation  and  declaration  of  intercourse  as  be'ilat  zenut 
require  a  considerable  Stretch  of  logic  and  legal  reasoning.  It  was 
reserved  for  very  extreme  cases,  and  cancelling  an  inappropriate 
marriage  by  divorce  was  a  y)referable  avenue. 

The  Problem  of  the  waiting  period  was  handled  in  differcnt 
ways  in  the  major  centers  of  Jewish  life.  In  Alexandria,  for  ex- 
ample,  it  was  common  lo  add  a  clause  to  the  ketubah  (tho  mar- 
riage contract),  which  was  written  during  the  kiddushin,  wheroby 
the  kiddushin  would  be  voided  if  the  groom  did  not  actually  lake 
the  bride  into  his  home  to  begin  their  married  life  within  a  year  of 
the  writing  of  the  ketubaJi.  In  ancient  Israel  it  was  common  to 


write  an  agreement  (simphon)  which  made  the  kiddushin  depen- 
dent  on  nisu'in's  taking  place  within  a  specified  time  (usually  a 
year) '  In  Babylonia  arrangements  based  on  conditional  clauses 
were  rejected  because  the  prevailing  halakhic  view  was  that  mar- 
riage cannot  be  conditional  (ein  tnai  be-nisu'in).^  Generally.  the 
family  of  the  bride  took  great  care  to  protect  her  during  the  vul- 
nerable period  between  kiddushin  and  nisu'in,  while  gradually  a 
new  custom  emerged:  kiddushin  and  nisu'in  were  joined  into  one 

two-part  ceremony.^°  , 

We  would  imagine  that  most  cases  of  elopement  involved  a 
couple  who  wanted  to  marry  against  the  wishes  of  the  parents. 
However,  if  we  return  to  the  case  of  the  girl  at  Naresh  (Yevamot 
110a),  it  seems  that  there  the  bride  herseif  was  opposed  to  the 
(second)  marriage  which  was  later  annulled.  Otherwise  it  would 
be  difficult  to  understand  the  story  which  implies  that  she  re- 
turned  to  her  first  husband.  Yet  this  is  puzzling.  If  the  girl  happily 
returned  to  her  first  husband  after  the  annulment  of  the  second 
betrothal.  why  did  she  allow  herseif  to  be  "snatched"  and  be- 
trothed by  the  second  man  to  begin  with?  Had  she  no  say  in  the 

matter  of  her  own  betrothal?  i     i    •  i 

The  Gemara  in  Kiddushin  2a  makes  it  very  clear  that  the  bride 
must  consent  to  her  own  marriage.  The  phrasing  in  the  mishnah, 
**a  woman  is  acquired,"  is  brought  as  proof  that  the  woman's 
consent  is  necessary:  **were  it  taught  'he  acquires/  I  might  have 
thought  even  against  her  will,  hence  it  is  stated:  'A  woman  is 
acquired';  only  with  her  consent,  and  not  without  it."  The  mish- 
nah  is  purposefully  phrased  to  indicate  that  the  woman  has  her 
say  in  kiddushin;  so  states  the  Gemara.  However.  in  the  subse- 
quent  discussion  of  the  Gemara  on  how  exactly  a  woman  has  to 
give  her  consent  we  find  an  opening  for  problems.  The  woman  s 
consent,  according  to  the  Gemara.  does  not  require  definite  articu- 
lation.  Silence  on  the  woman's  part  may  be  construed  as  consent 
(shtikah  ke-hodayah).  In  other  words,  if  a  woman  is  given  a  sum 
of  money  or  an  article  as  a  token  of  betrothal  and  does  not  protest 
the  act.  she  is  betrothed.  This  allows  for  certain  circumstances 
when  a  woman  may  be  betrothed  without  full-fledged  consent. 
The  Problems  pertain  especially  to  the  Situation  of  a  very  young 


60 


WOMEN  AND  JEWISH  LAW 


MARRIAGE 


61 


girl,  perhaps  like  the  girl  of  Narcsh,  either  conned  by  deception 
and  false  promises,  or  Ignorant  of  the  details  of  the  Halakliah. 

Despite  these  problems  mosl  inarriages  went  along  srnoothly 
with  parental  approval  and  proper  consent  of  the  bride.  Yet  even 
in  the  proper  marriages  there  were  often  questions  about  the  com- 
pleteness  of  the  woman's  consent.  This  was  not  because  of  decep- 
tion or  trickery  on  the  groom's  part,  but  because  most  marriages  in 
Jewish  Society  were  arranged  by  the  parents.  Social  Conventions 
dictated  that  a  daughter  submit  lo  the  marital  choice  of  her  par- 
ents, so  the  bride's  consent  was  closer  to  acquiescence  than  to 
choice  and  decision.  Additionally,  as  we  shall  soon  see,  wornen 
were  often  married  at  a  very  young  age,  twelve  or  even  earlier,  so 
that  their  "consent"  was  hardly  well  considered  and  mature. 

There  is  a  tension  between  the  laws  which  require  the  woman's 
consent  (and  by  prescribing  simple  ways  of  effecting  kiddushin, 
place  marriage  in  the  control  of  die  couple)  and  social  Convention 
which  puts  marriage  in  the  hands  of  the  parents.  We  have  seen 
this  tension  at  work  in  the  grachial  suppression  of  betrothal  by 
intercourse  and  of  the  minimum  sum  of  one  perutah.  Both  wero 
suppressed,  we  have  argued,  because  they  allowed  valid  betroth- 
als  which  involved  no  parental  or  communal  supervision.  Simi- 
larly,  when  parents  arranged  the  marriages  of  their  children,  they 
in  fact  often  ignored  the  requiremcnt  of  true  consent. 

An  interesting  example  of  the  i)roblem  of  marriage  without  pa- 
rental consent  appears  in  an  eighteenth-century  responsum  from 
Germany  reporting  what  must  have  been  a  rather  scandalous  case: 

[There  was  a  case  of)  a  rieh  man's  son  who  betrothed  a  maiden,  one  of  the 
servants  of  the  household  .  .  .  and  later  he  regretted  his  action  and 
changed  his  mind,  and  his  father  and  other  family  members  opposed  this 
also.  .  .  .  For  generally,  the  maids  in  any  household  set  their  eyes  on  the 
sons  of  the  wealthy  and  give  themselves  to  them  easily  in  order  to  get 
them  accustomed  to  having  them  and  then  to  be  betrothed  by  them.  And 
since  this  one  acted  improperly  . .  .  we  too  shall  act  with  her  improperly. 
Ilacob  Reischer,  fiesponsa  Shevut  Yuakov  Part  2,  No.  112] 

The  case  is  a  classic  one:  the  son  of  a  rieh  man  is  apparently 
seduced  by  the  maid.  Young  and  naive,  he  falls  in  love  with  her 


.nd  betrothes  her.  Uter  on.  probably  faced  by  Ihe  outrage  of  Ihe 
,miW.   nd  undoubtedly  by  various  Ihrea.»  of  *™;^a"d  d-n- 

sr^;::b*^'l:^-s:S^ 

=:S  ÄeS  be  wei  '^1^^= 

Ta  d' *  dvclng  a  n.lve  boy)  i.  should  be  «"'-^f^^U^lZ', 
mmes  that  the  maid  managed  to  con  the  boy  into  betrotf^  mg  her 
by"  duclön  and  n,an,pola,ion.  and  thus  mies  on  the  matter  as  ,f 
she  had  been  the  acllve  agent  in  the  beli-othal. 

The  case  described  above  is  unusual  in  the  sense  tha  it  ,s  the 
woman  who  pre  untably  maneuvers  the  man  into  an  tmproper 
Targe  Mor'e  often  i,  was  the  other  way:  >  ™" -"-„7™", 
intn  marriaee  This  is  so  for  two  reasons:  first.  the  man  is  me 
äXeleTal  agent  in  effecting  betrothal.  andsocml  Conventions 
oenera  ly  viewed  the  man  as  the  one  who  seeks  a  bnde.'  Second 
fhouSi  a  woman  needs  to  consent  to  the  betrothal.  mere  pass  ve 
acce?tancronhe  token  of  marriage  constitutes  consent  accordmg 

";f:eem:Äespite  the  fetter  of  the  law  wh^ch  in  Kidd-^^^^^^ 

prescribes  a  simple  transaction  between  5^°°'"  ^"J.  ^.f^^^t^X 
hee  agents.  marriage  in  fact  was  placed  ""d;^^'^'»  con»^°^^^^ 
mostly  parental  controls.  This  is  not  surpnsmg  when  we  real.ze 
Td  appreciate  the  centrality  of  marriage  m  Jewish  society.  Every 
fhrnfu  se^rns  hangs  on  marriage:  social  Status,  economic  gains 
H  ^«hiUtv  Dersonal  fulfillment.  sexual  satisfaction  and  control. 
Tnd  :" c'öur^;  Seal  continuity.  It  is  .uite  logical  that  .arriage 
should  not  be  left  to  the  whims  and  desires  of  the  young. 

?he  functions  marriage  fulfills-legally.  socially.  and  person 
allv    are  summarized  in  the  Tur's  opening  paragraph  in  Even 
Ha^^zer^theTection  covering  the  laws  regarding  personal  Status: 

Blessed  be  the  name  of  God  who  fs^resj^e.ooä  «^ ^J'-^^^  .^^^^^^^^^ 


t> 


:•  ti 


■'«r*-'.: 


62 


WOMEN  AND  JEWISH  LAW 


creation  of  man  is  procreation  and  multiplication  and  that  it  is  not  possi- 
ble  without  a  mate  and  therefore  lle  commanded  him  to  cleave  to  tlio 
mate  He  had  made  for  him.  Therefore,  a  man  is  required  to  marry  a  wife 
in  Order  to  procreate  and  multiply.  And  he  who  does  not  engage  in  pro- 
creation is  liice  one  who  spills  blood,  for  it  is  written  [whoever  spilis| 
"man's  blood"  (Gen.  9  :  6)  and  rigiit  next  to  it  "And  you  shall  be  fruitfui 
and  multiply"  (Gen.  9  :  1).  And  he  is  like  the  one  who  lessens  the  Divino 
image  since  it  is  written  "In  the  image  of  God  He  had  made  man,  and  you, 
be  fruitfui  and  multiply"  (Gen.  1  :  27-28).  And  he  causes  the  Divine 
spirit  [shekhinah]  to  depart  from  Israel. 

And  whoever  lives  without  a  wife  lives  without  well-being,  without 
blessing,  without  a  home,  without  Torah,  without  a  protective  wall,  with- 
out peace.  And  Rabbi  Eliezer  said:  whoever  has  no  wife  is  not  a  man,  and 
once  he  marries  a  woman  bis  transgressions  vanish  into  thin  air,  as  it  is 
written:  "He  who  has  found  a  wife  has  found  well-being  and  shall  please 
God."  [Jacob  ben  Asher,  Arba'cili  Turim,  Even  Ha-Ezer,  Chap.  1,  Laws  of 
Procreation,  I] 

Even  Ha-Ezer  is  the  volume  in  Jcicob  ben  Asher's  code  of  law 
Arba'ah  Turim  (or  Tur  for  short),  which  encompasses  the  laws  of 
family  life.  It  is  named  for  the  phrase  in  Genesis  2  :  18  which 
describes  the  creation  of  a  campanion  for  the  first  man  as  the 
creation  of  a  heipmate  for  him  (ezer  ke-negdo).  The  introduction 
to  the  laws  of  marriage  here  is  by  no  means  accidental  or  hapha- 
zard.  It  is  a  carefuUy  phrascd  summary  of  the  essentials  of  the 
Institution  and  purpose  of  marriage. 

The  first  purpose  of  marriage  according  to  the  formulatioii  in 
the  Tur  is  to  furnish  companionship  since  *'He  knew  that  it  is  not 
good  for  man  to  be  alone  and  therefore  made  a  heipmate  for  him" 
(Gen.  2  :  18).  It  is  rather  remarkable  that  the  author  of  the  Tur 
places  the  psychological  need  for  intimacy  and  protection  against 
lonnlinoss  as  the  first  ßoal  of  marriage,  takingprecedence  over  the 
biological  need  of  procreation. 

Procreation  is  the  second  |)urpose  of  marriage.  Self-propagation 
is  the  *'intention"  of  creation  for  all  living  species.  Not  to  engage 
in  procreation  is  likencd  to  thrcc  things:  murder,  lossening  the 
divine  image,  and  causing  the  divine  presence  to  depart  from  the 
Community  of  Israel.  The  three  violations  illustrate  the  three  lev- 
els  of  meaning  and  purpose  in  procreation.  The  first  Icvel  is  the 
biological  one  common  to  all  living  creatures:  procreation  means 


MARRIAGE 


63 


creating  life;  not  procreating  means  destroying  P^t^"^^^  /^^^^;    ^,1 
who  does  not  engage  in  procreation  is  like  one  who  spdls  blood 
because  by  not  replacing  himself  with  bis  progeny  he  is  hke  the 
one  who  commits  suicide.  The  second  level  is  particular  to  the 
human  race.  Procreation  is  man's  way  of  creating  somethmg  m  his 
own  image  and  the  image  of  God.  It  is  man's  way  of  r^^na^^^^B J^^^^^ 
original  creation  of  a  man  "in  our  own  image    (Gen^l  .26)^  I  his 
meaning  of  procreation  is  most  fully  developed  in  the  Kabbalah 
which  Postulates  a  process  of  union  of  male  and  female  Principles 
within  God.  The  third  purpose  of  procreation  is  anchored  in  the 
national  framework,  since  it  maintains  the  special  tie  between 
God  and  the  people  of  Israel.  The  link  between  procreation  and 
God's  special  relationship  with  Israel  can  clearly  be  seen  in  the 
ceremony  of  circumcision   (brit   miJah).  Circumcision.  as  de- 
scribed  in  Genesis  17  when  first  performed  by  Abraham  on  him- 
seh  and  his  sons  Ishmael  and  Isaac,  is  a  pact  of  alhance  between 
God  and  Abraham  in  which  fertility  is  the  central  promise.  There- 
fore  a  Jew  who  does  not  engage  in  procreation  in  ^ffect  reframs 
from  perpetuating  the  special  pact  (brit)  between  God  and  IsraeL 
He  thus  diminishes  the  divine  presence  (the  Shekhinah)  within 

the  lewish  Community.  ^         r    .      r 

The  transgressions  which  one  commits  if  he  reframs  from  pro- 
creation are  followed  by  a  Ust  of  bounties  that  the  bache  or  does 
noTexperience.  A  man  without  a  wife  lives  without  wel  -bemg 
without  blessing.  without  a  home.  Rabbi  Eliezer  goes  eyen  further. 
Coever  has  no  wife  is  not  a  man."  The  gloomy  lot  of  the  bache- 
lor  is  compared  with  the  good  fortune  of  the  man  who  marnes.  He 
not  only  gains  all  the  blessings  that  the  bachelor  m  sses.  but  even 
his  past  transgressions  are  forgiven:  "they  vamsh  mto  thm  a.r  _ 

The  Tur  does  not  mention  the  blessings  that  a  woman  finds  m 
marriage  nor  her  Obligation  in  the  act  of  procreation.  The  reason  .s 
twofold.  First,  the  Tur  is.  of  course.  addressed  to  men  and  U^u. 
admonishes  and  encourages  men  to  marry.  Second.  m  line  with 
?he  prevailing  assumption  in  the  rabbinic  tradition.  acob  ben 
Asher  Presumes  that  "A  woman  wants  to  marry  more  than  a  man 
wan  to  marry"  (Yevamot  113a).  No  special  en-uragem^n  and 
promise  of  benefit  is  needed  for  a  woman.  for  she  would  marry  as 


• 


64 


WOMEN  AND  JEWISH  LAW 


soon  as  an  appropriate  opportunity  arises.  The  Talmud  expresses 
this  presumed  desire  to  marry  in  a  succinct  Statement:  "A  woman 
prefers  to  be  impoverished  and  be  married  than  be  wealthy  and 
unmarried"  (Sotah  20a).  Similarly,  the  rabbis  assumed  that  a 
woman  has  a  natural  desire  to  bear  children.  As  we  shall  see  in 
greater  detail  in  Chapter  8  on  i)rocreation  and  contraccption,  the 
rabbis  purposefully  refrained  from  making  procreation  a  duty  for 
women. 

In  addition  to  companionship,  happiness,  and  procreation,  mar- 
riage  serves  another  central  purpose:  the  control  of  the  sexual 
Impulse  (yetzer  ha-ra): 


A  man  who  has  reached  the  age  of  twenty  years  and  has  not  yet  marricM 
wife  spends  all  his  days  in  sin.  In  sin?  Do  not  actually  think  so,  hut  rath 
say:  [he  spends  all  his  days]  in  thoughts  of  sin.  (Kiddushin  29h] 


la 
ther 


The  sexual  Impulse  is  omnipresent  and  must  find  expression.  An 
unmarried  man  does  not  have  a  wife  with  whom  he  can  satisfy  his 
sexual  desires.  He  must  therefore  turn  to  other  women,  at  least  in 
fantasy.  The  bachelor  is  not  suspected  of  actually  committing  sex- 
ual transgrcssions,  but  he  is  assumed  to  be  committing  them  in 
thought.  Without  a  wife,  he  is  surc  to  turn  his  fantasles  to  women 
who  are  not  permitted  to  him. 

Marriage,  of  course,  is  no  insurance  against  temptation.  The 
rabbis  in  all  gcnerations  saw  temptation  as  an  ever-present  force 
in  the  iives  of  men.  As  for  women,  some  rabbis  saw  them  as 
equally  given  to  sexual  temptation  while  some  regarded  them  as 
immune  from  it.^^  Marriage  provides  a  channeling  of  erotic  desire 
which  is  sufficient  for  most  men  to  at  least  prevent  excessive 
dwelling  on  it  and  any  overt  acts  of  adultery.  Therefore  while 
"one  is  forbidden  to  even  look  into  the  face  of  a  Single  woman" 
when  it  is  done  for  erotic  pleasure,  one  may  look  "in  order  to  see  if 
she  is  attractive  in  his  eyes  so  that  he  might  marry  her"  (Maimo- 
nides,  Mishneh  Torah,  Book  of  1  lolincss,  21  :  3). 

There  is  another  threat  of  sexual  transgression  to  the  bachelor, 
and  that  is  the  sin  of  hashbiüui  zern:  improper  Omission  of  seed. 
Ejaculation  outside  of  heterosexual  intercourse  is  undosirablc  at 


I 

l 


MARRIAGE 


65 


K    t   Tf  U  orcurs  without  intention.  such  as  in  one's  sleep  (ba'al 

pious  might  take  on  some  fom,  fjT'^^foZ  (Genesis  38). 

who  purposefully    cast  ^'^  seeu     1^  .        injerruptus] 

filling  his  duty  as  a  lev.r  (he  ^«    P^^f  "^'^^^^^3i„i    ^^y  form  of 
and  was  killed  by  God  as  a  P"" fhmenL  Certa mly      y 
„Masturbation  -"^^  be  a  grave  offe^^^^^^^^^^^^  ^^^^  ^^  ^ 

masturbation  that  the  Talmud  st^t^s  mal  ^^^^^ 

woman  examination  of  the  gemtals   «  ^^^^^   '"  °;„  -the  band 

mine  the  onset  of  -l--fl'T\ZMS^u^^^^^^^^  ^)- 

that  goes  below  the  belly-button  f^^^J^l^^^^^ °"i  Jp^oper  sexual 
Sex  within  -"iage-  the  -^eg-^^^^^^^^^^  ^„»ection 

fantasies  and  activit.es.  The  ""'";"'  ,abletotempla- 

against  them.  The  -m--d,,73^1",^ei  to  be" Lss  Hkely  toact  on 
lion  since  women  are  S«"«^«  ^  ^^^^'^^^^^^^^^^^       »o  temptation.  The 
their  sexual  impu^es  eve-nh^y,^^;  "^^  .^  ^^^^  ^^^   . 
greater  sexual  danger  to  un^arr  expected  to 

form  of  seduction.  elopement.  or  rape^  ^ J°        j^  another.  that 
pass  from  one  protected  Status,  »^at  of  a  d-ßh  -  »o  ^  , 

of  a  wife.  This  transilion  is  expected  to  f  "^^  f  "^^^^^^„'„./it'^nto  the 
The  traditional  way  to  control  «f  ^"«j  ^  J^^"^  ^^^r  Lg«.  Just  at 
marital  relationship  even  before  it  emerges.  ^^  V  '^^^j^f^^;^^  f^, 
the  beginning  of  puberty  (age  Jwelv^  for  B-^  -^Jh!^,,,,,,. 
boys).  which  was  the  practice  "J"^"y  ^^^^^  transgressions. 
served  to  curtail  the  sexual  ^  ^erv  L'portan  function:  it  al- 

marriage.  i„u4o„n  vpar-old  to  the  wedding  can- 

The  Talmud  states.    An  eighteen-year  olü  lo  ^^ 

opy"  (Pirkei  Avot  5  :  21)  about  males^  nd    A  man  ^s  »o  ^^^.^ 

botroth  '^^«j;,-^f-;^;tfj     rdl°^S  41a)  about 

she  grows  up  and  says.  i  wdut  .  .^  marry  sons  and 

females.  Nevertheless  the  common    r,  »^ -^^„^.„„..Hes 

daughters  earlier.  In  Middle  Eastem  ana  i  ^^^ 

the  practice  in  Jewish  cornmuniti.  rhTgrms  were  usually  con- 
age  of  twelve  or  even  earlier.  while  tne  gruui 


^  I^^u^  .   t.-  w  i:^  i"JiIrzl^^  i 


MARRIAGE 


67 


--*»    ^H^«-^ 


i    ^    I*      ^  ■ 


-T    i' 


:c   .  _' 


— -'_^«.    i»  *-y.^- 


r:    ^-  ;:^  r 


fiTil} 


~C  -<«^erT 


t  .r.  J   i. 


his  sons  and  daughters  close  to  their  Coming  or  age  (b'amuJLh  le-fir- 
kan\  is  the  one  of  whom  it  is  said:  'And  you  shaJJ  know  that  your 
tent  is  at  peace.'  "  "Close  to  tiieir  Coming  of  age"  was  understood 
to  refer  to  the  reaching  of  puherty  and  sexual  maturity.  Ttierefore 
the  Tut  states:  "He  who  niarries  early,  at  age  thirteen,  is  fulfilling 
the  mitzvah  in  an  exemphiry  manner"  (Tut,  Even  Ila-Ezer  1  :  <l). 
The  Tut  adds  a  precaution:  *'But  prior  to  age  thirteen  he  shoiild 
not  marry  them  because  it  is  like  promiscuity  [zenn<]."  One 
should  not  marry  off  his  children  before  they  reach  thirteen  be- 
cause they  will  not  have  reached  sexual  maturity  and  cannot  carry 
on  a  fruitful  sexual  relationship.  Sex  with  no  potential  for  concep- 
tion  whatsoever  is  analogous  to  masturbation  and  "wasting  seed" 
(hashhatat  zerah). 

Yet  despite  the  Tur's  ruling  that  thirteen  for  a  boy  and  twelve  for 
a  girl  is  the  earliest  age  for  marriage,  earlier  marriages  were  not 
unhcard  of.  Such  early  marriages  posed  a  halakhic  probicm  since 
they  violated  talmudic  prcscriptions  es  well  as  rulings  such  as  the 
Tur's.^^  They  were  practiced  primarily  for  economic  and  social 
reasons:  in  order  to  secure  optimal  matches  at  the  time  they  were 
available.  Another  reason  was  the  dowry,  the  neduniyah.  Since 
one  was  not  sure  that  today's  assets  will  be  here  tomorrow,  whtm 
money  for  a  neduniyah  was  available  a  match  was  made  and  the 
terms  agreed  upon.  This  explanation  appears  in  Tosafot's  com- 
mentary  on  Kiddushin: 

"A  man  is  forbidden  to  marry  off  his  daughter  when  she  is  a  minor":  .  .  . 
Nevertheless,  it  is  cur  custom  to  betroth  our  daughters  even  if  they  are 
minors  because  day  after  day  tlie  [oppression  of|  Exile  [gaiull  incroasos 
and  if  a  man  has  the  possibility  of  giving  his  daughter  a  dowry  now  |he 
betrothes  her],  lest  he  not  have  it  later  on  and  she  will  remain  an  aguncih 
forever.  [Tosafot,  Kiddushin  41  a| 

Tosafot  explain  that  the  economic  Situation  is  such  that  people  do 
not  trust  what  tomorrow  will  bring  and  thus  marry  their  daughters 
off  as  soon  as  they  can  afford  to.  It  is  interesting  that  the  text  refers 


to  a  Rirl  who  is  not  married  as  soon  as  the  chance  arises  as  an 
agunah  (a  "grass  widow."  a  woman  unable  to  marry  because  she 
is'bound  to  a  husband  who  is  no  longer  there).  Sure  y  her  s^tus 
would  not  legally  be  that  of  an  agunah  for  she  will  be  free  to 
marry.  But  in  practica  she  might  never  have  the  chance  and  thus 
would  remain  unmarried  all  her  life.  as  if  she  were  barred  from 
marriace  like  an  agunah.  ,.      i      r 

Ea  ly  marriages   prior  to  age  thirteen  for  boys  and  twelve  for 
oirls.  posed  definite  halakhic  problems.  But  perhaps  even  graver 
were   the   psychological   problems   which  resulted   from   such 
nremature  marriages.  The  Haskalah  (Enlightenment)  hterature   s 
^Ik  in  descriptions  of  personal  tragedy  and  mar.tal  strife  result- 
ng  from  immature  betrothals.  certainly  a  biased  v.ew  s.nce  the 
Haskalah  made  an  ideological  point  of  condemmng  trad.t.onal 
marriage.  The  maskilim  criticized  the  early  age  of  marr.age    he 
ZpLte  control  over  spouse  selection  by  the  parents.  and  the 
subiugation  of  the  choice  to  economics  and  social  standing  They 
offered  instead  the  ideal  of  romantic  love.»  But  even  halakhic 
writings.  reflecting  the  traditional  Orthodox  position.  often  trans- 
mit  the  tragic  consequences  of  premature  marriages.  Such  mar- 
Hages  could  easily  lead  to  sexual  dysfunction.  ^^^^-\^^^, 
monv   and  unhappiness.  We  have  no  way  of  mak.ng  Statistical 
3;tes  about  the  fate  of  couples  married  at  extremely  young 
ages   We  probably  should  assume  that  most  such  marriages  pre- 
vatled  even  if  the  initial  period  of  married  life  was  traumatic  and 
unhappy.  In  some  extreme  cases  premature  marriages  ended  tragi- 
caUy .'such  a  case  became  a  cause  celebre  in  rabbin.c  -cles  -^^^^^^ 
second  half  of  the  eighteenth  Century.  As  reported  by  Yehezkel 
Landau  in  his  responsa  Neda  bi-Yehudah  (second  edit.on).  Re- 
sponsüm  52.  a  boy  and  a  girl  were  married  when  he  was  twelve 
and  she  eleven.  They  lived  together  in  her  parents'  home.  more  a 
brother  and  sister  than  as  husband  and  wife.  There  were  no  sexu 
relations  between  them.  With  time  they  were  mocked  by  the  r 
peeJs  and  acquaintances  because  their  --riage  was  a^onma  - 
riaee  They  feit  increasing  pressure  to  consummate  the  marriage 
and  final  y  one  night  the  boy  came  to  his  bride.  I"  the  middle  o 
?he  sexual  act  someone  knocked  on  the  door  and  the  boy.  in  h.s 


68 


VVOMEN  AND  JEWISH  LAW 


fear,  had  a  premature  ejaculafion.  Penetration  was  neverachieved 
and  when  the  rabbi  examined  the  slieet  the  next  morniiig  he  fouiul 
on  it  only  traces  of  semen  and  no  "blood  of  virginity"  (see  Deut. 
22  :  15-18).  There  was  great  commotion  and  shame,  and  soon 
afterward  the  boy  disappearod.  He  was  never  heard  from  again 
and  the  girl  became  an  agiinah:  bound  to  a  husband  she  did  not 
have  and  unable  to  marry  anyone  eise.  The  girl's  parents  sought 
the  opinion  of  many  rabbis  in  an  attempt  to  release  her  from  the 
marriage  and  allow  her  to  remarry. 

The  halakhic  discussion  in  the  case  of  this  girl  who  became  an 
ügunah  was  a  complicated  one  since  there  were  two  questions 
involved:  the  validity  of  premature  marriage  in  general  and  the 
validity  of  this  particular  marriage  which  was  not  consummated. 
The  legal  problems  involved  in  premature  marriages  were  diffi- 
cult  because  there  are  halakhic:  grounds  for  forbidding  such  mar- 
riages, yet  after  the  fact,  most  of  them  were  allowed  to  stand.  The 
Problem  is  similar  to  that  of  betrothal  by  intercourse  or  'VitH  a 
myrtle  branch."  In  principle  such  kiddushin  are  forbidden,  as  we 
have  already  seen,  but  once  effected  they  are  valid  (Kiddushin 
12b).  Furthermore  many  cascs  of  premature  marriages  occurred 
during  times  of  upheaval:  either  periods  of  imminent  threat  of  war 
and  dispersal,  or  times  when  there  were  decrees  or  rumors  of 
impending  decrees  forbidding  or  restricting  Jewish  marriages. 
Thus  factors  of  instability  and  fear  played  perhaps  a  greater  role 
than  strict  legal  considerations  in  determining  the  age  of  marriage 
in  different  periods  and  differcnt  places. 

Marriage  occupies  the  central  place  in  personal  and  communal 
life  in  traditional  Jewish  society.  It  serves  as  the  instrumcnt  of 
control  over  economic  fortunos,  social  Status,  sexual  activity,  and 
self.perpetuation.'^  It  also  offors  inlimacy.  emotional  fuHiIhnenl, 
and  a  sphere  for  eroticism.  Inevitably,  societal  constraints  and 
control  come  into  conflict  with  personal  aspirations.  Though  the 
Halakhah  Starts  with  laws  of  marriage  which  allow  it  as  an  inde- 
pendent  act  of  a  couple,  easily  performed  and  with  few  legal  and 
economic  constraints,  it  gradually  imposes  more  and  more  restric- 
tions,  wresting  control  of  marriage  from  the  hands  of  the  young 
couple  and  putting  it  in  the  hands  of  parents  and  the  communal 


69 

MARRIAGE 

others  in  traditional  Jewish  «"^fy^^^^j'^^by  the  parents. 
niarriage.  Usually  the  choiceofa  husband -made        ^^^p^^  ^^^ 

as  are  the  "^«^f --^J,^  ,^^^^^^^^  is  passive:  she 

rrpT  r  betrottl  brsUem^iesence;  only  U  she  wants  to 
TroS  need  she  say  any  words  ^-inB  the^^^^^^^^^  ,„  .he 

,ust  as  she  is  a  P--^  P ^n  ^  d  ssdut  on  "1  marria'ge  by  di- 
woman  is  a  passive  agent  in  »^e  d^^«°'"      j^^^„^  .he  woman's 

vorcc.  m  the  case  °J ---^^-^t  J^^^^ 

passive  role  can  lead  to  the  P"^«''»«"^^  °;       ^  .  ^  ^y  her  father  to  a 

^"^'^  T t;^o^herlr4re^orrhrand^n  the  case  of 
Tor^^stela^l  ie  in  the  next  cha^e.  üje  ^^^^^^ 
the  woman's  passivity  can  be  much  more      g'c  ^^ 

„.arried  to  a  hated  hu«b-d  aga.^^^^^^^^^^^^^  „^^„„h). 

recipient  of  a  divorce,  never  its  Initiator. 


?  15« 


i'i 


(  ■ 


I 


r 


;  I. 


; 


■1 


t  i 


1. 


DIVORCE 


fnn       .      "T"*  V  "  '"■•*•'  "''  '"^^'^ge.  vv-hen  ue  search  the  ßibie 
or  matenal  on  divorce  ue  do  not  find  systema.ic  or  detailed 
lcß.sIat,on.  Howcver.  wo  do  find  one  passage  on  divorce  vvhch 
elaborates  enough  to  givo  us  some  notion  of  ?he  „ature  of  drvo  c 
in  b.bhcal  law.  Douleronomy  24  dcals  wi.h  a  special  case  of  dl 
vorco:  forbidding  a  divorcöe  wbo  remarried  and  hen  divorcclet 
aga.n  to  return  to  her  first  husband.  In  passing,  wilhin  a  ci  c^n, 
stant.al  clause  describing  the  initial  divorce.  fhe  passageWaTs 
qu.te  a  lot  about  the  prac.ice  and  procednre  of  divorce  in  general 

fhen  the  second  man  rejecis  her.  writes  her  a  bill  of  d^orceS  l,a  ri. 

Let  US  begin  with  the  end  of  the  passage  where  we  finally  roach 
the  legislative  Statement.  The  point  of  this  passage  is  iS  a 

agrro\e?is'"t"  f."''?  ""'i  ^^"*  ^^^  away LyLtlk  t 
aga.n  to  be  h.s  wife  after  she  "had  been  defiled"  by  marriage  to 

first  huTand    Sh'  "T^"  ''  "'''''''''"  ^"»  ^'^  with'regard  to  h  ^ 

70 


i- 


k 


DIVORCE 


71 


evening  and  in  the  morning  she  would  return  to  him.  [Nachmanides 
(Ramban)  on  Deut.  24  :  4] 

If  it  wäre  not  for  this  prohibition  a  man  could  divorce  his  wife  one 
day,  she  could  marry  another  man  *'for  the  night,"  and  then  be 
divorced  by  him  and  return  to  marry  her  first  husband:  a  simple 
System  of  "wife  swapping"! 

This  law  may  have  a  preventive  aim  as  Nachmanides  proposes, 
but  more  likely  it  is  primarily  a  reflection  of  a  tension  within 
biblical  law  between  acceptance  of  divorce  and  elements  of  a 
Position  opposed  to  divorce  altogether.  The  clearest  example  of 
this  antidivorce  sentiment  is  in  the  prophecy  of  Malachi:  "God 
stood  in  testament  between  you  and  your  first  wife  and  now  you 
have  turned  treacherously  against  her.  ...  Do  not  turn  against  the 
wife  of  your  youth  for  the  one  who  sends  away  [his  wife]  is 
hateful.  .  .  ."*  We  also  deduce  that  antidivorce  sentiments  re- 
mained  alive  in  postbiblical  Judaism  from  the  teachings  of  Jesus 
and  the  prohibition  on  divorce  in  the  Church.^ 

Within  actual  legislation,  Opposition  to  divorce  remained  con- 
fined  to  the  special  laws  for  priests.  The  priests  were  forbidden  to 
marry  divorcees  (Leviticus  21),  though  they  were  not  forbidden  to 
divorce  their  wives.  This  stränge  asymmetry  can  only  be  under- 
stood  if  we  understand  the  prohibition  on  marrying  a  divorcee  as 
part  of  the  strict  laws  of  purity  by  which  the  priests  were  bound. 
The  same  term  is  applied  to  a  divorcee  as  to  various  agents 
(corpses,  reptiles,  etc.)  which  cause  ritual  impurity.  For  the 
priests,  who  had  to  observe  more  stringent  laws  of  purity  than  the 
rest  of  the  nation  because  of  their  Service  in  the  Temple,  a  woman 
who  had  had  sexual  relations  with  another  man  (i.e.,  a  divorcee  or 
a  zonah,  one  who  had  sexual  relations  outside  marriage)  was  "de- 
filed" and  forbidden.  Perhaps  there  was  actually  some  theory  of 
priestly  "purity  of  blood"  which  extended  the  meaning  of  ritual 
purity  to  encompass  sexual  relations  and  familial  lineage. 

The  prohibition  in  Deuteronomy  24  :  1-5,  which  considers  a 
woman  who  married  a  second  time  "defiled"  in  respect  to  her  first 
husband  and  forbidden  to  remarry  him,  is  a  vestige  of  the  antidi- 
vorce sentiment  expressed  in  the  priestly  code  and  in  Malachits 


il 


mk^ 


i'    l 


•t  «:., 


-  -^    Il,v 


iT  _•  bc 


^rc^::£C_-.  n^:  ir  Li  i  ziIzlöj  VctiLige:  LCr  överäii  innisiüiDeiiteTon' 
omy  24  is  to  portray  divorce  as  an  accepted  part  of  human  life.  As 
a  legal  transaction  divorce  is  simple  and  quick:  the  husband  sim- 
ply  ''wriies  her  a  bill  of  divorcement,  hands  ii  to  her,  and  sends 
her  away  from  his  house"  (verse  1). 

The  legitimacy  of  divorce  is  accentuated  in  postbiblical  Hala- 
khah.  The  Mishnah  focuses  on  tho  power  of  the  gel  to  rolease  the 
u^oman  from  her  husband  and  allow  her  to  marry  anew,  ralher 
than  presenting  it  as  a  negative  indictment  of  the  divorcee: ' 

Mishnah:  The  essence  of  the  get  is  the  words:  Behold  you  are  horebv 
permitted  to  any  man.  Rabbi  Judah  says:  [He  must  add|:  And  this  shall  he 
to  you  from  me  a  writ  of  divorce  and  a  letter  of  release  and  a  bill  of 
dismissal.  wherewith  you  may  go  and  marry  any  man  that  you  please. 
[uittm  85  a-b] 

Two  formulations  of  the  g(;t  appear  here,  the  second  requiring 
more  detailed  phrasing.  Bolh  are  in  agreement,  howover,  that  tlio 
essence  of  the  gel  is  that  it  frecs  the  woman  to  go  and  marry 
w^homever  she  pleases. 

To  say  that  the  essence  of  a  divorce  bill  is  to  free  the  woman  to 
marry  another  man  is  not  to  suggost  that  divorce  was  encouraged, 
taken  lightly.  or  carried  no  consequences  of  societal  judgment' 
Stigma,  or  condemnation.  The  Talmud  includes  pronouncements 
and  anecdotes  intended  to  oxalt  a  first  marriage  as  faithfulnoss  to 
"the  wife  of  thy  youth."  and  to  condemn  divorce  and  remarriago- 
for  example,  the  laconic  "Two  divorcees  who  marry— four  opin- 
lons  in  bed"  (Pesahim  112a)  or  "When  a  man  divorces  his  first 
wife  even  the  altar  sheds  tears"  (Gittin  90a).  The  point  is  rather 
that  any  negative  evaluation  and  subsequent  implications  are  not 
incorporated  into  the  Halakhah.  They  remain  as  societal  con- 
straints,  powerful  enough  that  condemnation  was  most  likely  pur- 
posely  excluded  from  the  legal  sphere  in  order  to  allow  legitimate 
avenues  to  dissolve  marriages  which  were  unusually  unhappy. 

Both  biblical  law  and  postbiblical  Halakhah  permit  divorce  and 
Institute  no  punitive  or  detrimental  consequence  to  either  the 
divorcing  man  or  the  divorced  woman.  But  the  Status  of  divorce  is 
determined  by  still  two  other  major  considerations  which  we  have 


DIVORCE 


73 


yet  to  address:  First,  is  there  a  requirement  for  certain  circum- 
stances  or  reasons  to  Warrant  divorce?  Second,  how  easy  is  it  to 
effect  a  divorce?  Both  issues  are  embedded  in  the  Deuteronomic 

text. 

Deuteronomy  24  :  1  describes  the  circumstances  of  divorce 
thus:  "she  fails  to  please  him  because  he  finds  some  [matter  of} 
indecency  [erval  davor]  in  her."  This  brief,  ambiguous  formula- 
tion  gives  rise  to  a  debate  between  Bet  Hillel  and  Bet  Shammai. 
There  are  two  central  questions  that  call  for  interpretation: 

1.  What  is  the  exact  nature  of  the  "matter  of  indecency"  (ervat 

davor)? 

2.  What  is  the  significance  of  the  clause  "because  he  finds  ervat 
davor  in  her"?  Is  it  included  here  merely  to  explain  why  she  fails 
to  please  him  but  not  to  exclude  other  reasons  why  the  woman 
loses  her  husband's  favor?  Or  is  it  here  to  mandate  that  only  if  the 
husband  finds  some  indecency  (ervat  davor,  whatever  that  may 
be)  in  her  may  he  divorce  her,  while  other  reasons  do  not  Warrant 
divorce? 

As  we  shall  see  in  following  the  talmudic  discussion,  this  is  just  a 
simplified  formulation  of  the  problems  inherent  in  the  Deutero- 
nomic passage  on  divorce: 

Mishnah:  Bet  Shammai  say:  a  man  should  not  divorce  his  wife  unless  he 
has  found  her  guilty  of  some  sexual  misconduct  [matza  bah  dvar  ervah] 
as  it  is  said:  "because  he  has  found  some  matter  of  indecency  in  her."  Bet 
Hillel,  however,  say:  [he  may  divorce  her]  even  if  she  has  merely  spoiled 
his  food,  since  it  says:  "because  he  has  found  some  matter  of  indecency  in 
her."  Rabbi  Akiva  says:  [he  may  divorce  her]  even  if  he  simply  finds 
another  woman  more  beautiful  than  she,  as  it  is  said:  "and  it  comes  to 
pass,  if  she  finds  no  favor  in  his  eyes." 

Gemara:  It  has  been  taught:  Bet  Hillel  said  to  Bet  Shammai:  Does  not  the 
text  distinctly  say  "thing"  [davor]?  Bet  Shammai  rejoined:  And  does  it 
not  distinctly  say  "indecency"  [ervah]?  Bet  Hillel  replied:  Had  it  only 
said  "indecency"  [ervah]  without  "thing"  [davor]  I  should  haye  con- 
cluded  that  she  should  be  sent  away  on  account  of  "indecency"  [he.,  a 
sexual  transgression]  but  not  on  account  of  any  [lesser]  "thing."  There- 


74 


WOS^ES  .\.\'D  JTkMSH  L.\\V 


iz^re  "ihizg"  is  s^jccined.  Agaln.  n^J  i:  said  Qniy  Tni-.j"  wizhout  "iDffe- 
Ccnjy  i  kvoui j  häve  cünciaaeJ  :n*ir  /li  divörceci/  on  äccö^nt  o/  "(hing" 
she  may  remarn",  but  if  on  account  of  "indecency"  she  shouJd  not  be 
permitted  to  remarn-.  Thereiore  "indecency"  is  also  speciüed. 

And  u  hat  do  Bei  Shammai  make  of  the  word  "thing"?  [They  arguej:  It 
says  here  "thing"  and  ii  says  in  another  place  "thing."  viz.  "ßy  the  mouth 
of  two  witnesses  or  by  the  mouth  of  three  witnesses  a  thing  shaJI  he 
established."  Just  as  there  twa  witnesses  are  required,  so  here  two  wit- 
nesses are  required.  And  Bet  HiJlel?  (They  can  retortj:  Is  it  written  "inde- 
cency in  a  thing"?  And  Bet  Shammai?  [They  can  retort|:  Is  it  written 
"either  indecency  or  a  thing"?  And  Bet  Hillel?  For  this  reason  it  is  written 
"a  matter  of  indecency"  [ervat  davar]  which  can  be  taken  either  way. 

Rabbi  Akiva  says:  even  if  he  simply  found  another.  .  .  .  What  is  the 
ground  of  the  difference  here  [between  the  various  rulingsj?  It  is  indi- 
cated  in  the  dictum  of  Resh  Lakish  who  said  that  ''ki"  has  four  meanings: 
"if,"  "perhaps,"  "but,"  "because."  Bet  Sliammai  held  that  we  transhite 
here:  *It  comes  to  pass  that  she  finds  no  favor  in  bis  eyes  bocauso  he  has 
found  some  matter  of  indecency  in  her."  Rabbi  Akiva  held  that  we  trans- 
late:  "  . .  .  or  if  he  finds  some  matter  of  indecency  in  her."  [Gittin  9üa-bJ 

The  Mishnah  cites  three  opinions  regarding  the  circumstances 
or  legitimate  grounds  for  divorce.  All  three  opinions  rest  on  the 
Interpretation  of  the  clause  "and  it  comes  to  pass  that  she  finds  no 
favor  in  his  eyes  because  he  has  found  some  matter  of  indecency 
[ervat  davor]  in  her"  in  Deuloronomy  24  :  1.  Bet  Hillel  and  Bet 
Shammai  agree  that  the  grounds  for  divorce  are  describod  by  the 
phrase  "he  has  found  some  matter  of  indecency  in  her"  but  dis- 
agree  on  the  cxact  mcaning  of  Ihe  phrase,  specifically  the  nature  of 
ervat  davor.  The  opinion  of  Rabbi  Akiva  is  different:  he  interprots 
the  clause  in  Deuteronomy  24  :  1  to  include  two  sejjarate  State- 
ments regarding  the  grounds  for  divorce.  As  explicated  in  the 
fourth  Paragraph  of  the  Gemara  "Rabbi  Akiva  held  that  we  trans- 
late:  'and  it  comes  to  pass  that  sho  finds  no  favor  in  his  eyes  or  if 
he  finds  some  matter  of  indecency  in  her.'  "  For  Akiva's  Interpre- 
tation the  exact  nature  of  ervat  davor  is  not  crucial  hecauso  the 
first  part  of  the  clause,  "she  finds  no  favor  in  his  eyes,"  Stands 
independcntly  as  a  dcscription  of  grounds  for  divorce,  so  that  a 
man  may  divorce  his  wife  even  if  ho  mcrcly  mct  another  woman 
he  likes  heiter.^ 

The  primary  concern  of  the  Gemara  in  our  passage  is  to  recon- 


DIVORCE 


75 


struct  and  explicate  the  nature  of  the  disagreement  between  Bet 
Hillel  and  Bet  Shammai.  At  the  core  of  the  controversy  js  a  sirnple 
disagreement  on  the  meaning  of  ervat  davor.  Ervah  .s  the  b.bUcal 
term  for  a  prohibited  sexual  relation  (the  literal  meanmg  o   e  voh 
s  "nakedness").  It  seems  most  plausible  from  the  context  of  the 
Deuteronomy  passage.  as  well  as  other  references  to  d.vorce  m 
anecdotal  material  in  the  Bible,  that  the  original  cause  for  d.vorce 
was  adultery.  The  word  davor  means  "thing,"  or    matte  .    Ervat 
davor  is  a  construct  case  made  up  of  the  two  nouns  put  together 
The  crix  of  the  disagreement  between  Bet  Hillel  and  Bet  Shamma. 
is  the  question  of  which  noun  mod.fies  wh.ch.  Bet  Shammai 
argue  that  the  noun  davor  modifies  the  noun  ervah.  thus  reading 
?he  Phrase  to  mean  "a  matter  of  ervoh."^  Bet  Shamma.'sreadmg  s 
probably  the  one  closer  to  the  original  intent  of  the  Deuteronom.c 
fext  Bet  Hillel  argue  that  the  word  ervah  modifies  the  word  davor 
and  should  be  read  here  as  an  adjective.  that  is.  "an  ervah-hke 
matter  ""n  other  words  Bet  Hillel  hold  that  ervah  is  not  used  here 
Ts  a  'echnlal  term  for  sexual  transgression.  but  rather  m  a  general 
descriptive  way  to  indicate  something  indecent  o^y^r^seenAj^ 

The  Gemara  reconstructs  the  arguments  of  each  s.de  through  a 
flctional  dialogue.  Bet  Hillel  begin  by  '^haHenging  Bet  Shamma,  s 
Interpretation,  saying:  "Does  not  the  text  d.stinctly  say  th.ng  ^ 
n  other  words  if  the  text  intended  to  refer  to  sexual  transgressmn 
as  Bet  Shammai  hold,  the  word  ervah  would  -Jf-  --^^a^^  ^^ 
nrecisely  the  term  for  sexual  transgression.  Yet  the  text  states 
"thing"  and  since  nothing  in  the  biblical  text  is  superfluous 
"Ihing"  refers  to  any  other  matter  as  grounds  for  d.vorce  "even  if 
she  has  merely  spoiled  his  food."  ;„„.  "AnH 

Bet  Shammai  respond  with  the  same  Ime  of  reason  ng.  And 
does  it  not  distinctly  say  ervah?".  that  is.  if  any  ihing  were 
?ntended  the  word  ervah  would  be  superfluous.  F-therrnore  if 
any  "thing"  is  sufficient  ground  for  divorce.  ervoh  sexual  trans- 
gression. need  not  be  specified  since  a  general  "thrng  would 
fer  a  nS  include  sexual  transgression.  Therefore.  accord.ng  to  the 
reasoning  of  Bet  Shammai.  the  word  ervah  was  specified  so  that 
uTe  consluct  ervat  dovar  must  mean  sexual  transgression  and 
nothing  of  lesser  magnitude. 


-e^^ifiMm^f^ 


76 


WOMMN  AND  JEWISH  LAW 


!l 


*;« 


'  l 


' ' 


t 
t 

1^' 


) 


Vi 


Bet  Hillel  respond  to  Ihis  argiiment  by  analyzing  wliat  the  im- 
plication  of  the  text  would  bo  if  only  ervah  were  stated  or  if  only 
"thing"  were  stated.  First:  "Had  it  only  said  'ervah'  without 
'thing*  I  should  have  conchided  that  she  should  be  sent  away  on 
account  of  ervah  but  not  on  account  of  any  [lesser]  thing."  Had  the 
text  only  used  the  vi^ord  ervah,  argue  Bet  Hillel,  it  would  have 
been  evident  that  only  sexual  transgressions  are  grounds  for  di- 
vorce,  which  is  the  position  of  Bet  Shammai.  But  since  the  text 
does  not  use  only  the  Mrord  ervah,  Bet  Hillel  argue  that  it  necessar- 
ily  intends  to  imply  more,  that  is,  to  include  other  things  as 
grounds  for  divorce.  Second,  if  only  the  word  "thing"  had  been 
stated  "I  would  have  conchided  that  if  divorced  on  account  of  a 
'thing*  she  may  remarry,  but  if  on  account  of  ervah  she  would  not 
be  pcrmitted  to  remarry."  Clearly  one  could  not  argue  that  the 
word  "thing"  is  stated  in  order  to  exclude  sexual  transgression  as 
grounds  for  divorce,  since  sexual  transgression  is  the  most  radical 
violation  of  the  rules  and  purpose  of  marriage.  Therefore  if  the 
text  had  stated  only  "thing,"  a  different  justification  would  have 
been  necessary.  Stating  "thing"  alone  might  imply  that  the  legisla- 
tion  does  not  apply  to  divorce  due  to  sexual  transgression.  One 
might  have  then  concludcd  that  whereas  here  the  wonian  may  go 
and  niarry  anotlicr  man,  if  a  woman  is  divorced  on  account  of 
sexual  transgression  the  law  is  stricter  and  she  is  forbidden  to 
remarry.  That  is  not  the  case  in  the  Halakhah,  since  the  law  does 
not  forbid  a  woman  divorced  on  account  of  sexual  transgression  to 
remarry,  except  to  the  man  with  whom  the  sexual  transgression 
wascommitted.^ 

The  conclusion  of  Bet  Hillel  from  this  reconstruction  of  the 
implication  of  using  only  ervah  or  only  davor  in  the  biblical  text 
is  that  both  ervah  and  davor  are  necessary  to  understand  this 
phrase.  This  seems  to  defeat  the  argument  of  Bet  Shammai,  who 
Interpret  ervat  davor  to  mean  simply  and  only  ervah  (sexual 
transgression).  Since  Bet  Hillel  have  just  shown  that  both  words 
are  necessary,  the  conclusion  is  that  Bet  Hillers  Interpretation  of 
ervai  davor  as  the  generalized  "unseemly  matter"  is  the  correct 
one.  This  is  so  unless  Bet  Shammai  can  prove  that  the  word  davor 


DIVORCE 


77 


has  some  function  in  the  phrase  other  than  implying  that  more 
than  sexual  transgression  is  intended.  .       ,     »u 

Bet  Shammai  have,  of  course,  just  such  an  explanation  for  the 
function  of  the  word  davor.  They  argue:  "It  says  here  'thmg  and  it 
says  in  another  place  'thing,'  viz.  'By  the  mouth  of  two  witnesses 
or  by  the  mouth  of  three  witnesses  a  thing  shall  be  established 
(Deut  19  •  15).  The  word  ^hing"  functions  here  as  a  key  word  to 
indicate  that  the  testimony  of  two  witnesses  to  the  sexual  trans- 
gression is  necessary  in  order  to  permit  divorce  on  those  grounds 
That  is,  the  word  davor,  according  to  Bet  Shammai.  does  not 
function  in  any  way  to  modify  the  word  ervah  directly,  but  rather 
to  introduce  the  additional  Information  that  the  testimony  of  two 

witnesses  is  required.  ^^„.  jf 

The  presumed  retort  of  Bet  Hillel  to  this  argument  ^s  jo  say^If 
the  two  words  are  separate,  one  referring  to  the  grounds  for  di- 
vorce  and  the  other  to  the  testimony  of  witnesses,  why  is  the 
sentence  not  phrased  accordingly?  Why  does  it  not  State    inde- 
cency  [ervah]  in  a  thing  Ibe-davarl'^  That  is,  indecency  in  an  act 
(davor)  which  is  attested  to  by  two  witnesses.  There  is  a  signih- 
cance  imply  Bet  Hillel,  to  the  fact  that  ervah  and  davor  are  linked 
together  in  one  unit,  as  a  construct  case.  But  this  same  argumen 
can  be  turned  against  the  Interpretation  of  Bet  Hillel.  If.  as  Bet 
Hillel  hold,  the  text  refers  to  either  sexual  transgression  or  any 
other  "thing"  as  grounds  for  divorce,  why  is  this  not  indicated 
clearly  by  stating  "either  ervoh  or  [another]  thing"? 

Here  Bet  Hillel  retort  with  the  final  argument:  "For  this jeason  i 
is  written  'ervat  davor'  which  can  be  taken  either  way.  Bet  Hillel 
and  Bet  Shammai  have  reached  a  stalemate:  neither  side  can  pro- 
vide  conclusive  evidence  for  its  Interpretation  and  neither  school 
can  raise  an  objection  to  the  other  school's  view  that  cannot  be 
refuted  or  turned  against  its  own  Interpretation.  At  this  point  Bet 
Hillel  Win  the  argument.  Since  their  Interpretation  argues  for  an 
Inclusive  meaning  (i.e.,  both  sexual  transgressions  and  other 
"things")  it  can  include  the  fact  that  there  is  an  irresolvable  disa- 
greement  between  Bet  Hillel  and  Bet  Shammai  without  internal 
contradiction.  If  Bet  Hillel  argue  that  the  phrase  essentially  means 


78 


WOMEN  AND  JEWISH  LAW 


i 


that  either  sexual  transgression  or  other  "unseemly  things"  are 
grounds  for  divorce,  they  can  incorporate  Bet  Shammai's  insis- 
tence  that  sexual  transgression  is  grounds  for  divorce.  Bet  Shani- 
mai,  on  the  other  hand,  argiie  that  only  sexual  transgression  is 
grounds  for  divorce,  and  nothing  eise.  How  then  are  they  to  ex- 
plain  the  fact  that  they  cannot  prove  this  conclusively?  Clearly  the 
text  is  ambiguous  and  open  to  more  than  one  Interpretation!  This 
argument  is  analogous  to  the  following  hypothetical  dialogue  be- 
tween  Aand  B: 

A:  "Statement  X  is  an  amhiguous  statement." 
B:  "No!  Statement  X  is  not  ambiguous,  it  can  only  be  interpreted 
one  v^ay." 

A:  "The  very  fact  that  v^o  disagree  proves  that  the  stateinent  is 
indeed  ambiguous!" 

Thus  the  vievi^  of  Bet  Hillel  prcvails  and  the  phrase  ervat  davor  is 
understood  in  the  Halakhah  to  mean  that  a  man  may  divorce  bis 
w'\fe  for  a  sexual  transgression  or  any  other  matter  that  is  distaste- 
ful  to  him. 

The  principle  of  Bet  Hillel  that  ervat  davar  significs  any  iin- 
seemly  matter  holds  as  the  basis  for  the  law  of  divorce.  Yet  there  is 
a  difference  between  sexual  transgression  and  any  other  unseemly 
thing.  Whcrcas  in  the  case  qf  "oliier  unseemly  malters"  the  hus- 
band  has  the  right  to  divorce  bis  wife,  in  the  case  of  sexual  trans- 
gression he  has  an  Obligation  to  do  so.  Even  if  he  is  inclined  to 
forgive  her  and  forget  her  violation,  the  Halakhah  requires  him  to 
divorce  her  as  she  is  guilty  of  sexual  transgression."  In  his  coin- 
mentary  on  Deuteronomy  24  :  1  Rashi  states  that  if  there  is  reasoii 
to  suspect  the  wife  of  sexual  transgression  "He  is  commanded  to 
divorce  her  lest  he  come  to  like  her." 

Since  the  Halakhah  is  in  accordance  with  Bet  Hillel  the  groimds 
for  divorce  are  open-ended:  they  are  a  matter  for  individual  dis- 
cretion  and  judgment.  The  cause  for  divorce  is  subjective,  since 
what  to  one  man  is  a  grave  matter  to  another  is  only  a  minor 
irritation.  The  Talmud  makes  dear  that  regardless  of  the  nature  of 
the  grounds  for  divorce,  onco  marital  disharmony  has  gotten  to 


DIVORCE 


79 


the  point  where  the  husband  has  made  up  his  mind  to  divorce  his 
wife.  he  should  do  so  forthwith.  Otherwise  he  is  exploitmg  his 
wife  and  "devising  evil"  against  her. 

Rabbi  Mesharsheya  seid  to  Raba:  If  a  man  made  up  bis  mind  to  divorce 
his  wife  but  stie  still  lives  with  him  and  waits  on  him.  what  do  we  do?  [He 
replied]  We  apply  to  him  the  versa:  "Devise  not  evil  against  your  neigh- 
bor  seeing  as  he  dwells  securely  by  thee."  (Gittin  90b| 

The  biblical  formulation  of  the  laws  of  divorce  is  brief  and  open 
to  several  interpretations.  as  we  saw  from  the  dispute  between  Bet 
Hillel  and  Bet  Shammai  regarding  the  grounds  for  divorce.  Simi- 
larly  Deuteronomy  24  is  also  ambiguous  about  the  procedure  of 
divorce.  The  whole  process  is  described  in  a  few  words:  "He 
writes  her  a  bill  of  divorce  (se/er  keritut.  literally.  "a  writ  of  cut- 
ting  off  "1  [the  marriage].  hands  it  to  her.  and  sends  her  away.   The 
mishnaic  and  talmudic  discussion  is  preoccupied  with  the  exact- 
ing  details  of  the  writing  of  a  bill  of  divorce  (a  get).  its  precise 
formulation.  and  the  manner  in  which  it  is  delivered  to  the 
woman.  Much  of  Tractate  Gittin  is  devoted  to  questions  such  as: 
Who  is  qualified  to  write  a  bill  of  divorce?  What  is  the  text  of  such 
a  writ'  Who  is  qualified  to  deliver  a  get?  How  must  the  woman 
accept  it  in  order  for  it  to  be  valid?  What  happens  when  a  get  is 
delivered  by  a  mcssengcr  Coming  from  abroad?  etc.' 

The  laws  pertaining  to  the  writing.  delivery.  and  acccptance  ot  a 
gel  are  very  complex  and  include  an  astonishing  ränge  of  possibie 
circumstances.  We  will  not  present  these  halakhot  here  in  detail, 
but  rather  merely  observe  the  general  principle  that  divorce  re- 
quires an  elaborate  and  exacting  procedure.  It  is  very  important  to 
note  the  difference  in  complexity  between  the  laws  of  marriage 
and  the  laws  of  divorce.  As  we  saw  in  Chapter  2.  there  is  very  little 
technical  detail  or  procedural  requirement  standing  in  the  way  of 
a  man  who  wishes  to  marry:  all  he  needs  is  a  peruiah  or  an  object 
of  its  worth  and  the  woman's  consent.  In  the  case  of  divorce  the 
opposite  is  true:  many  legal  requirements  which  demand  accu- 
racy  and  care  stand  in  the  way  of  a  man  who  wants  to  divorce  bis 
wife  But.  ironically.  the  woman's  consent  is  not  necessary.  as  it  is 


'K  » 


80 


WOMEN  AND  JEWISH  LAW 


in  marriage.  The  Halakhah  seems  to  counterbalance  the  fact  that 
the  woman*s  consent  is  not  necessary  and  that  the  grounds  for 
divorce  are  open-ended  by  k^gislation  which  will  create  at  least 
some  impediments  to  divorce. 

In  biblical  law  it  appears  that  divorce  was  a  simple  matter,  and 
this  may  have  had  the  important  advantage  that  an  unhappy  mar- 
riage could  be  ended  easily  and  without  delay.  However,  it  also 
had  severe  disadvantages  from  the  point  of  view  of  the  woman.  A 
woman  had  no  protection  against  unwanted  divorce  because  her 
consent  was  not  required.  She  had  no  protection  against  a  divorce 
that  seemed  unjust  because  the  grounds  for  divorce  included  vir- 
tually  anything  which  displeased  her  husband.  Finally,  a  woman 
could  do  nothing  in  the  face  of  a  rash  divorce,  given  in  anger, 
because  there  was  no  "cooling-off"  period  created  by  legal  re- 
quirements  and  procedure. 

Mishnaic  law  addressed  the  vulnerability  of  women  not  pnly 
through  the  detailed  regulations  about  the  writing  and  delivery  of 
the  get,  but  also  through  the  keiubah.  The  ketubah  is  a  marriage 
document  that  a  groom  gives  to  bis  bride.  It  outlines  the  general 
obligations  of  the  husband  toward  bis  wife  ("to  cherish,  honor, 
feed  and  support .  .  .  and  live  together  like  man  and  wife"),  and 
lists  the  financial  commitmcnts  the  husband  undertakes  toward 
his  wife  in  case  of  divorce  (or  bis  death).  Though  the  ketubah  is 
written  and  handed  to  the  woman  at  the  time  of  the  betrothal,  the 
bulk  of  its  text  deals  with  the  financial  arrangements  in  case  the 
marriage  cnds  through  divorce  or  the  husband's  death.  The  hus- 
band agrees  in  the  ketuboh  to  pay  his  wife  three  kinds  of  pay- 
ments  in  case  of  a  divorce  (the  "ketubah  sum,"  the  value  of  the 
trousseau,  and  the  tosefia,  an  additional  sum),  altogether  amount- 
ing  to  a  handsome  payment.  The  purpose  of  the  payment  is  to 
assure  the  financial  integrity  of  the  divorcee,  and  it  may  be 
claimed  by  the  woman  against  any  of  her  husband's  or  his  inhori- 
tors*  property. 

The  importance  of  the  keluhnh  is  that  it  protects  the  divorcöe 
against  financial  disaster.  Although  the  ketubah  is  given  to  the 
bride  as  part  of  the  marriage  ccremony,  and  was  traditionally  writ- 
ten   artistically    and    in    certain    communities    illuminated    to 


DIVORCE 


81 


heiRhten  the  joy  of  the  wedding,  its  legal  significance  pertains  to 
d Worce.«  Sinie'the  ketubah  obligates  the  l-^band  to  pay  hj^^^^ 
considerable  sums  if  he  divorces  her,  it  was  seen  by  the  rabbis  in 
the  Talmud  as  an  important  deterrent  to  rash  divorces.  The  Tal- 
mud  States  that  the  obligations  of  the  ketubah  were  -PO-d  upon 
lewish  men  so  that  divorcing  their  wives  would  not  be  a  simple, 
ght  ma"  er  in  their  eyes.  Moreover,  to  strengthen  the  protection 
affo  ded  by  the  ketubah,  the  Halakhah  requires  a  woman  always 
^  keep  her  ketubah  with  her;  if  the  ketubah  is  lost,  the  couple 
may  not  continue  to  live  together  until  another  ketubah  is  wri  ten^ 
Tbv  some  accident  a  woman  is  divorced  and  cannot  produce  her 
klYah  her  h^  is  still  bound  by  the  obligations  that  would 

have  been  included  in  the  ketubah,  were  it  to  be  found. 

The  ketubah  and  the  complex  requirements  of  delivering  a  get 
afford  women  some  protection  against  irrational  and  un,ust  d  - 
vorces   but  this  is  only  partial  protection.  The  most  vulnerable 
To  nt  'for  a  wife  remain:  she  cannot  initiate  divorce,  on   he  one 
hand  and  may  be  divorced  without  her  consent,  on  the  other.  In 
he  Middle  Ages  the  vulnerability  of  the  woman  to  divorce  with 
n„  heed  .o  h,f  wishes  wa.  .dd,e,sed  through  a  '»«a'  '-rl"^  ^ 
the  Halakhah.  Despite  the  explicit  talmudic  Statement    A  woman 
may  be  divorced  with  her  consent  or  without  if  (Yevamot  112b  . 
Truling  was  introduced  which  forbade  divorcing  a  woman  against 
her  coLent  The  rule  is  traditionally  ascribed  to  Rabbenu  Ger- 
shom  M?^^^  However,  there  is  historical  evidence  that 

by  h"  Urne  this  was  already  accepted  practice  among  most  Ashke- 
nazicjews. 

l"enlh  cenlmyl.  Responsa.  1 12d  (Prague  edil.on)! 

The  herem   a  ban  and  Ihreal  of  excomitiunication  againsl  any 
„ffender!  wT,  a  common  and  convenien.  vehicle  for  .n.roducmg 


82 


WOMEN  AND  JEWISH  LAW 


new  legislation  in  the  post-lalmiidic  period.  The  herem  ponniltecl 
the  consensus  of  the  comminiity  to  enter  the  Halakhah  as  n(;w 
legislation.  Usually  such  legislation  added  new  cuslonis  and 
slightly  amended  previous  halakhah  and  practice.  Rarely  diel  it 
actually  contradict  the  laws  of  the  Talmud.  The  sanction  for  such 
legislation  was  the  consensus  of  the  Community,  so  that  anyono 
violating  it  was  threatencd  with  cxcommunication. 

The  legislation  prohibiting  (hvorce  against  the  woman's  consent 
is  ascribed  to  Rabbenu  Gershom  Me'or  Ha-Golah  together  with  th(5 
Prohibition  on  polygyny.  The  two  are  intimately  linked.  Prior  to 
this  ruling  the  Halakhah  allowcd  a  man  to  dissolve  his  marriago 
unilaterally  by  divorce  or  aU(;r  it  radically  by  taking  another  wife. 
Following  the  ban  of  Rabbenu  Gershom  a  man  can  no  longer  re- 
solve  marital  problems  by  such  unilateral  actions.  Marital  discord 
now  has  to  be  resolved  throiigh  negotiations  with  the  woman. 
Generally  a  woman  could  not  actually  avoid  a  divorce  indoünitely 
by  withholding  her  consent.  A  man  could  ultimately  force  his 
wife  to  give  her  consent  by  making  their  marital  life  unbearable. 
However,  having  the  power  to  refuse  a  divorce  gave  the  woman  at 
least  some  control  over  the  terms  negotiated  for  the  divorce. 

There  is  actually  a  certain  duplication  of  functions  between  tho 
kehibcih  and  the  ban  of  Rahbonu  Gershom  against  divorcing  a 
woman  without  her  consent,  as  Moses  Isseries  obsorves  in  his 
commentary  on  the  Shuihan  Avukh: 


At  the  present  time  in  our  icuuls,  since  one  cannot  divorce  a  woman 
against  her  consent  because  of  the  ban  of  Rabbenu  Gershom,  you  could 
have  eased  the  requirements  for  tiie  writing  of  the  keiubah.  However,  that 
is  not  ourcustom  [minhcig].  [Moses  Isseries  (Rema),  Commentary  toShuJ- 
han  Arukh.  Even  Ha-Ezer  66  :  3| 

Since  a  woman  may  no  longer  be  divorced  against  her  will  the 
ketubah  is  not  as  crucial,  for  she  can  withhold  her  consent  to  the 
divorce  until  a  satisfactory  Rnancial  agreement  is  reached.  How- 
ever, the  ketubah  did  not  fall  into  disuse  or  become  a  mere  formal- 
ity  even  though  it  was  no  longer  the  only  guarantee  for  the 
woman's  rights  in  case  of  divorce.  The  centrality  of  the  keiubah  in 
the  marriage  customs  and  its  antiquity  were  sufficient  to  guaran- 


DIVORCE 


83 


tee  its  perpetuation.  One  might  speculate  that  a  ter  the  ban  of 
Rabbenu  Gershom  the  ketubah  served  less  a  legal  function  and 
more  a  psychological  one.  It  stood  at  the  time  of  marnage  as  a 
"stimon'ylo  the  good  intentions  and  worthiness  o  the  husband 
Since  marriages  were  generally  arrangod  and  based  on  ^f^^^^^^^ 
reputation,  class.  and  learning  rather  than  on  any  mtimate  famil- 
larity  between  groom  and  bride  or  their  families.  such  testimony 
and  assurance  were  very  important.^  u-  u      ^  i.axro 

The  process  of  change  in  the  laws  on  divorce  which  we  have 
examined  thus  far  reveals  three  major  steps  that  d^^^^^^^/^e  vul- 
nerability  of  the  married  woman  to  bemg    sent  away    by  her 
husband.  The  first  changes  occur  in  mishnaic  and  talmudic  law 
The  simplicity  of  the  act  of  divorce  in  the  Bible  is  transformed. 
Divorc7becomes  a  complex  legal  procedure  and  this  serves  to 
Protect  women  against  rash  and  irrational  divorces.  The  ketubah 
^"arantees  that  the  divorcee  will  not  be  destitute  and  also  serves 
as  a  deterrent  against  divorcing  a  wife  too  easily.  Later,  in  the 
Middle  Ages,  the  ban  of  Rabbenu  Gershom  requires  the  woman  s 
consent  for  divorce  and  thus  makes  her  a  negotiating  party  m  the 
process  of  divorce  rather  than  atotally  passive  subiect. 

Despite  the   gradual   increase   in  the  protection  afforded  to 
women,  divorce  laws  maintain  women  in  a  position  of  weakness. 
The  most  significant  problem  in  the  legal  position  of  women  m 
regard  to  divorce  is  that  a  woman  cannot  divorce  her  hu  b  n^^ 
There  are  several  narratives  in  the  Bible  which  indicate  hat  bibli- 
I  1  sod^^^^^        permit  a  woman  to  divorce.  or  at  least  to  leave,  her 
husband  if  he  failed  to  fuliill  his  marital  obligations  For  example 
udges  19  contains  the  story  of  a  Levite's  concubine  (pilegesh  . 
who  certainly  had  no  more  rights  than  a  wife.  deserting  her  hus- 
Cl-masterL  return  to  her  father's  house.  Her  reasons  for  leav- 
ing  are  not  mentioned  but  they  are  apparently  not  questioned  for 
the  husband  comes  to  his  father-in-law's  house  to  ^ngraUate  h»^ 
seif  and  plead  to  have  her  back.  Another  case  in  1  Samuel  25 
mplies  that  a  woman  whose  husband  has  deserted  her  may  aban- 
d"n  her  marriage  and  be  given  by  her  father  to  another  mam  De- 
spite  these  and  other  passages  which  imply  some  rights  on  the 
part  of  the  woman  and/or  her  father  to  end  a  marriage.  Deuteron- 


84 


WOMEN  AND  JEWISH  LAW 


DIVORCE 


85 


omy  24,  the  explicit  legal  text  on  divorce,  makes  no  mention 
whatsoever  of  the  woman's  right  to  initiale  divorce.^" 

The  Halakhah  for  the  most  part  evolves  wilh  the  assumption 
that  divorce  is  only  an  act  of  the  hushand.  There  is  some  evidence 
from  Genizah  material  that  in  the  oarly  Middle  Ages,  at  least  in 
North  Africa,  women  had  the  right  to  divorce  their  hushands 
v^hen  the  hushands  vy^ere  guilty  of  such  flagrant  violations  of  their 
duties  as  desertion  and  failing  to  provide  food  for  their  wives  and 
children/^  However,  the  Babylonian  Talmud  does  not  include  the 
possibility  of  a  woman's  divorcing  her  hushand  and  thus  the  legal 
tradition  which  allov^ed  them  this  pov^er  disappeared. 

The  Babylonian  Talmud  prescribcs  only  one  v^ay  for  a  woman 
to  try  to  bring  about  a  divorce  that  she  desires,  that  is,  by  appeal- 
ing  to  a  Jewish  court  to  compol  her  hushand  to  divorce  her.  The 
Talmud  specifies  certain  condilions  which  Warrant  such  court 
action.  These  conditions  fall  into  three  major  categories: 

1.  When  the  husband  is  affliclod  by  various  physical  aibncnts  or 
charactoristics  which  are  dccnied  iinciidurablc  for  the  wife 

2.  When  the  husband  violatos  or  neglects  his  marital  obhgations 

3.  When  there  is  sexual  incompalibility  between  husband  and 
wife  (on  this  issue,  as  we  shail  see,  there  is  a  division  in  Ihc 
halakhic  opinionsj 

Mishnah:  The  following  are  conipolled  to  divorce  [their  wives|;  a  man 
who  is  afflicted  witli  boils,  or  iins  u  polypiis,  or  gathers  [objoclional  mat- 
ter) or  is  a  coppersmith  or  a  tannor,  whetiier  lliey  were  |in  siicti  condi- 
tions or  positionsj  before  they  niarried  or  wiiettier  they  arose  afler  tiiey 
had  married.  And  concerning  all  Ihese  Rabbi  Meir  said:  althougb  tho  man 
made  a  condition  with  her  (that  slie  acqidesce  to  his  defectsj  she  may 
nevertheless  plead,  "I  thought  I  could  endure  him,  but  now  I  cannot 
endure  him."  The  Sages,  however,  said:  She  must  endure  (any  such  per- 
son|  despite  her  wishes,  the  only  exception  being  a  man  afllicted  witii 
boils,  because  she  (by  her  interconrsej  will  enervate  him. 

Gemara;  What  (is  meant  by  on«)  "who  has  a  polypus"? — Rah  )udah  re- 
plied  in  the  name  of  Samuel:  [Onii  who  suffers  from  an  offensive]  nasal 
smell.  In  a  Baraita  it  was  taught:  (One  suffering  from]  offensive  breath. . .  . 
"Who  gathers."  What  (is  meant  by  one|  "who  gathers"? — Rah  Judah 
replied:  One  who  gathers  dogs'  excroments. 


An  obiection  was  raised:  "One  who  gathers  means  a  tanner!  . . .  - 
[The  definition)  is  [a  matter  in  dispute  between)  Tannaim.  For  it  was 
taught:  "One  who  gathers"  means  a  "tanner":  and  others  say:  It  means 
"one  who  gathers  dogs' excrements." 

"Or  is  a  coppersmith  or  a  tanner."  What  is  meant  by  a  copper- 
smith"'-Rav  Ashi  replied:  A  kettle-smith.  Rabbah  bar  Bar  Hana  ex- 
plained:  One  who  digs  copper  from  the  mine.  It  was  «^"8^«.  "  agreenient 
with  Rabbah  bar  Bar  Hana:  What  is  meant  by  a  coppersmith?  One  who 
digs  copper  from  the  mine.  (Ketubot  77a] 

Tho  Mishnah  opens  with  a  list  of  men  who  are  compelled  to 
divorce  their  wives  due  to  a  condition  which  makes  them  offen- 
sive, be  it  a  medical  problem  or  a  consequence  of  their  occupa- 
tion   The  Gemara  explicates  the  details  of  each  condition  in  an 
attcmpt  to  understand  what  makes  it  offensive.  After  listing  the 
conditions.  the  Mishnah  states  the  general  principle  that  such 
men  are  compelled  to  divorce  their  own  wives  whether  the  offen- 
sive condition  arose  before  or  after  the  marriage.  In  other  words 
knowledge  of  the  condition  is  not  sufficient  grounds  for  requmng 
tho  woman  to  abide  it.  Apparently  the  rabbis  held  that  knowmg 
about  these  conditions  from  a  distance  is  not  like  living  with  them 
every  day.  The  only  case  in  which  prior  knowledge  invalidates  a 
woman's  request  for  a  divorce  on  one  of  these  grounds  is  if  there  is 
an  explicit  statement  prior  to  the  marriage  that  the  woman  accepts 
the  man  despite  his  condition.  Even  in  such  a  case  of  explicit 
agreement  there  is  a  minority  opinion  of  Rabbi  Meir  that  the 
woman  may  request  a  divorce.  The  woman  might  have  whole- 
heartedly  believed  that  the  condition  was  acceptable  to  her  but 
found  the  reality  of  it  in  life  unbearable.  She  may  plead:     I 
thought  I  could  endure  him  but  now  I  cannot  endure  him.    The 
majority  opinion  is  different.  however.  Since  an  explicit  declara- 
tion  was  made.  the  woman  must  stand  by  her  word  and  accept  her 
husband's  condition.  There  is  one  exception.  however  everi  in 
the  View  of  the  majority.  and  that  is  the  case  of  a  man  afflicted  by 
boils,   since  sexual   intercourse  aggravates  the   condition   and 
would  be  likely  to  hamper  a  normal  sexual  rclationship. 

Two  physical  conditions  are  considered  too  offensive  for  a 
woman  to  endure:  "boils"  (a  skin  disease)  and  a  "polypus"  (a 


-.•«^«.  -»n'- 


86 


WOMEN  AND  JEWISH  LAW 


condition  the  Amoraim  spcculate  caused  chronic  bad  nasal 
smell).  In  later  Halakhah  Ihese  conditions  are  understood  moro 
broadly  as  referring  to  any  physical  problem  or  ailment  con- 
sidered  "a  serious  defect"  (nioom  gadoJJ  because  it  is  offensive  to 
most  people.  What  constitutes  such  a  defect  is  determined  by  the 
rabbi  who  is  faced  with  an  actual  problem.  Not  only  diseases 
cause  such  defects  that  a  woman  has  grounds  to  demand  a  di- 
vorce.  but  also  certain  occupations.  The  exact  reason  why  the 
occupations  mentioned  in  the  passage  ("one  who  gathers,  a  cop- 
persmith  and  a  tanner")  are  offensive  is  already  unclear  to  Amo- 
raim. It  appears  that  they  may  be  occupations  v^hich  cause  one  to 
have  a  persistent  bad  odor— at  least  that  seems  to  be  the  case  of 
"one  who  gathers"  and  a  tanner.  The  general  principle,  however, 
is  that  men  who  are  physically  repulsive  to  their  wives.  because  of 
either  medical  or  occupational  conditions,  are  compelled  togrant 

their  wives  a  divorce. 

The  second  category  of  men  who  are  compelled  to  divorce  their 
wives  are  those  who  rcfuse  to  fulfill  their  marital  obligations.  Tho 
marital  obligations  are  primarily  two:  maintenance  and  oncih. 

Rav  stated:  If  a  husband  says:  "I  will  neither  maintain  nor  support  |my 
wife)"  he  must  divorce  her  and  also  give  her  her  ketubali.  Rabbi  Elazar 
went  and  told  this  statement  to  Samuel  [who]  exclaimed:  "Make  Elazar 
eat  barley!  Rather  than  compel  him  to  divorce  her  let  him  be  compelled  to 
maintain  her!"  And  Rav  [what  would  he  answer]?  "No  one  can  live  with  a 
serpent  in  the  same  basket."  |K(;tub()t  77al 

The  husband  in  this  case  declares  that  he  will  not  fulfill  bis  Obli- 
gation to  "maintain  and  support"  bis  wife  (as  stated  in  the  ketn- 
bah).  Rav  states  that  he  should  be  compelled  to  divorce  her.  He 
has  violated  his  commitment  in  the  marriage  and  thus  should  be 
compelled  to  end  it.  Thero  is,  however,  a  very  strong  objection  to 
this  view,  as  stated  by  Samuel.  Samuel  first  exclaims  that  Elazar. 
who  reportcd  the  opinion  of  Rav  (thus  apparently  subscribing  to 
it),  should  "eat  barley!"  This  pronouncement  is  a  bit  obscure.  It 
should  probably  be  interprntod  "Let  Elazar  be  reduced  to  jKwerly 
and  still  maintain  her!"  Samuel  held  that  the  man  should  be  com- 
pelled to  maintain  his  wife  according  to  his  duty,  before  he  is 


DIVORCE 


87 


compelled  to  divorce  her.  This  is  an  attempt  to  use  the  powers  of  a 
Bet  Din  to  preserve  the  marriage  rather  than  dissolve  it.  Indeed 
Rav's  requirement  that  the  husband  be  compelled  to  divorce  bis 
wife  may  seem  a  bit  rash,  yet  Rav's  retort  indicates  that  the  posi- 
tion  is  well  thought  out.  The  court  could  compel  the  husband  to 
support  his  wife  rather  than  compel  him  to  divorce  her,  but  his 
refusal  to  support  her  is  only  one  manifestation  o  bis  general 
attitude  toward  her.  Clearly  the  husband  is  very  hostile  toward  bis 
wife  and  for  her  to  live  with  him  while  the  court  compels  him  to 
maintain  her  would  be  like  living  "with  a  serpent  in  the  same 

basket."  ,.        .    ^i  t  „ 

Rav  and  Samuel  disagree  along  the  same  lines  in  the  case  ot  a 
man  who  withholds  from  his  wife  her  fundamental  right  of  onah 
by  refusing  to  have  sexual  relations  with  her.  This  case  is  a  ittle 
more  complicated.  for  whereas  no  merit  can  be  seen  in  the  act  ot  a 
man  who  refuses  to  support  his  wife.  a  man  who  vows  not  to  have 
intercourse  with  his  wife  may  have  an  acceptable  justification.  He 
may  forbid  himself  to  have  intercourse  in  order  to  depnve  himselt 
of  sexual  pleasure  as  a  form  of  penance  or  he  may  wish  to  go  away 
and  study  Torah.  thus  depriving  his  wife  of  her  sexual  rights  for 
the  duration  of  his  studies.  Rav  views  a  limited  period  of  sexual 
abstinence  for  penance  or  study  favorably.  provided  that  the  pe- 
riod is  brief.  He  holds  that  a  man  may  abstain  from  his  marital 
duty  due  to  a  vow  if  he  specifies  the  length  of  time  (i.e..  a  week 
according    to    Bet    Hillel    and    two    weeks    according   to    Bet 
Shammai)."  If  he  does  not  specify  the  length  of  time.  he  has  vio- 
lated an  essential  element  in  his  marital  Obligation  and   he  mus 
divorce  her  forthwith  and  give  her  the  ketubah.    Samuel  holds 
that  a  man  who  makes  this  kind  of  unlimited  vow  may  stay  with 
his  wife  until  the  end  of  the  permitted  period  of  abstention  in   he 
hope  that  he  may  find  some  way  to  void  his  vow  and  thus  save  the 

""sämuei  consistently  tries  to  maintain  the  marriage  as  long  as 
possible.  in  the  hope  that  reconciliation  f"'*/««"»";'«"  r^'f ' 
arise.  Rav  takes  a  different  basic  stance.  He  feels  that  when  a 
husband  has  violated  the  marital  commitment  by  declaring  that 
he  will  not  support  his  wife  or  by  vowing  to  abstain  from  sex 


GÖ 


'/•  ÜMZ.\  .Wu  jz,  •\~lSH  LAVt 


indefiniteJy,  he  has  aJready  gone  too  fax.  The  basis  for  the  niar- 
riage  clearly  no  longer  exisls  since  there  is  neither  gooduill  nor 
Intention  to  fulfill  his  duties  on  the  part  of  the  husband.  Once 
things  have  gotten  to  that  point  the  marriage  shoiild  be  ended 
immediately  by  compelling  the  husband  to  divorce  his  wife.  Tho 
Rabbinate  in  Israel  today  gonorally  takes  the  position  of  Samuel 
when  it  deals  with  requests  for  divorce.  Couples  seeking  a  divorc(5 
are  generally  urged  to  attempt  to  achieve  reconciliation,  '*shlom 
bayit,**  and  delays  are  imposod  before  the  husband  is  allowod  to 
givehis  wifea  gel. 

The  third  reason  for  compelling  a  husband  to  divorce  his  wife  is 
under  dispute  in  the  Halakhah:  some  authorities  rule  that  sexual 
incompatibility  (vyrhen  the  v^ife  says:  **He  is  repulsive  to  me," 
ma'is  alay)  is  grounds  for  compelling  a  divorce  while  others  re- 
fute  the  notion.  The  latter  authorities  hold  that  the  wife  is  **a 
rebellious  one"  (moredet)  and  treat  her  accordingly,  as  we  shall 
soon  see.  The  split  in  the  Hahikhah  is  based  on  a  talmudic  passago 
discussing  the  nature  of  the  rebellious  wife: 

What  is  understood  by  **a  rebeUious  woman"?  Ameimar  said:  [One]  who 
says:  "I  like  him  but  I  wish  to  torment  him."  If  she  said,  however,  "Hu  is 
repulsive  to  me  [ma'is  alay),"  no  pressure  is  to  be  brought  to  bear  upon 
her.  Mar  Zutra  mied:  Pressure  is  to  be  brought  to  bear  upon  her.  [For] 
such  a  case  once  occurred  and  Mar  Zutra  exercised  pressure  upon  the 
woman  and  [as  a  result  of  the  reconciUation  that  ensued]  Rabbi  Hanina  of 
Sura  was  born  of  their  reunion.  This,  however,  was  not  [the  right  thing  to 
do).  [The  successful  result]  was  due  to  the  help  of  Heaven.  [Ketubot  (}3b| 


According  to  Ameimar  thero  are  two  kinds  of  women  who  refuse 
to  have  sex  with  their  husbands.  The  first  is  the  rebellious  woman. 
This  is  a  woman  who  basically  likes  her  husband  and  does  not 
have  a  problem  having  sex  with  him.  Rather,  she  is  withholding 
sex  as  a  means  to  an  end:  she  wishes  to  torment  him.  Later  com- 
mentaries  expand  this  notion,  suggesting  that  she  wishes  to  pim- 
ish  him  for  some  offense  or  tries  to  get  something  she  desires  out 
of  him  by  using  sex  as  a  bargaining  chip.^^  Such  a  woman  is  to  be 
treated  severely:  she  is  compelled  to  revoke  her  refusal.  This  is 
done  (as  in  the  case  of  a  rebollious  husband)  by  threats  of  the  Bei 


DIVORCE 


89 


Din,  a  continuous  reduction  of  her  ketubah  payment  as  long  as 
she  persists  in  her  rebellion,  and  the  Talmud  states,  her  brazen- 
ness  is  announced  and  condemned  in  the  synagogues  every 
week.^"*  (Later  commentators  generally  State  that  this  measure  is 
not  actually  practiced  in  their  day.)^^  The  other  kind  of  woman  is 
the  one  who  refuses  to  have  sex  with  her  husband  on  the  grounds 
that  he  is  repulsive  to  her.  The  reason  is  presumably  some  kind  of 
fundamental  incompatibility.  Such  a  woman,  according  to  Amei- 
mar, is  not  compelled  to  acquiesce  to  sexual  relations  with  her 
husband  and  there  are  no  measures  taken  against  her.  Ameimar 
probably  presumes  that  such  a  marriage  should  be  ended  by  a 
divorce;  however,  the  passage  is  not  explicit  enough  for  us  to 
deduce  whether  he  only  assumed  that  the  husband  would  natur- 
ally  divorce  his  wife,  or  actually  held  that  the  husband  should  be 
compelled  to  divorce  his  wife.  This  ambiguity  is  the  reason  for  the 
subsequent  split  in  halakhic  opinions. 

Before  we  proceed  with  the  discussion  of  subsequent  Halakhah 
we  must  note  the  minority  opinion  of  Mar  Zutra.  Mar  Zutra  held 
that  even  the  woman  who  pleads  total  disgust  with  her  husband 
should  be  pressured  to  resume  sexual  activity  with  him  since  he 
feit  that  even  such  an  extreme  Situation  can  be  mended  and  recon- 
ciliation achieved.  His  proof  is  the  Statement  that  he  had  once 
ruled  in  this  fashion  and  the  couple  did  reunite  and  their  reunion 
resulted  in  the  birth  of  a  son  who  became  a  prominent  rabbi. 
However,  the  opinion  of  the  majority,  as  reported  anonymously  in 
the  passage,  indicates  disapproval  of  Mar  Zutra's  ruling.  The  fact 
that  a  prominent  son  resulted  from  the  reunion  was  due  "to  the 
help  of  Heaven,*'  that  is,  to  special  divine  intercession.  Such  di- 
vine  intercession  cannot  be  generally  relied  on  in  conducting  hu- 
man affairs.*®  Mar  Zutra's  ruling  was  wrong  as  a  general  ruling 
even  though  in  the  specific  case  before  him  it  brought  beneficial 

results. 

The  Talmud  then  concludes  that  a  woman  who  is  repulsed  by 
the  mere  thought  of  having  sexual  relations  with  her  husband  is 
not  to  be  pressured  into  resuming  her  sexual  life  with  him.  Rashi, 
in  his  commentary  on  Ketubot  63b,  accentuates  this  ruling.  He 
States:  "  'She  is  not  compelled':  to  protract  her  [stay  in  the  mar- 


.^M-r-^''- 


90 


WOMLiV  AiVD  JEWISH  LAW 


DIVORCE 


91 


riage],  but  rather  he  gives  her  a  ge(  and  she  goes  out  without  her 
kefubah."  Rashi  clarifies  that  one  does  not  make  any  attompts  to 
prolong  the  marriage  because  of  hopes  that  a  reconciliation  will 
emerge.  Rather,  he  rules  that  the  husband  gives  her  a  get,  presu- 
mably  immediately  upon  her  Statement  "he  is  repulsive  to  me," 
and  that  she  loses  her  keiubah  payment  since  she  initiated  the 
breakup  of  the  marriage  and  the  husband  could  not  be  accusod  of 
not  fulfilling  his  duties.  It  seems  that  in  this  matter  Rashi  follows 
the  general  psychological  assumptions  of  Rav:  a  marriage  that  has 
gotten  to  this  point  of  dnterioration  is  no  longer  viable.  Rashi 
presumes  that  a  woman  would  not  come  forth  with  this  kind  of 
Statement  and  seek  the  dissolution  of  her  marriage  unless  Ihings 
were  truly  unbearable  for  her. 

Rabbenu  Tarn  takes  a  difforent  approach,  imputinga  very  differ- 
ent  motivation  to  the  wornan  who  states  **he  is  repulsive  to  me'*: 

The  Kuntres  interpreted  this  passage  [as  follows):  we  do  not  compel  her 
to  romain  under  him  but  rnlhor  ItJt  liim  give  her  a  gof  and  put  her  out 
without  her  keiubah:  That  would  mean  that  he  is  conipelled  to  divorce 
her.  And  this  does  not  secun  right  to  Rabbenu  Tarn  for  then  we  would 

have  to  worry  that  she  might  have  set  her  eyes  on  another  man And 

therefore  Rabbenu  Tarn  intorprets  this  that  we  do  not  cqmpel  the  husband 
to  divorce  her.  And.  in  fact,  the  Kuntres  itself  does  not  explicitly  say  that 
you  compel  the  husband  to  give  her  a  get.  [Tosafot  on  Ketubot  ü3b) 

The  Tosafot  begins  with  an  analysis  of  Rashi  (the  Kuntres).  From 
Rashi's  insistence  on  immcdiate  divorce  and  his  firm  Statement 
that  the  woman  is  not  to  be  compelled  to  remain  "undor  him,"  we 
would  deduce  that  Rashi  holds  that  should  the  husband  rehise  to 
divorce  her  (as  a  spiteful  act)  he  would  be  compelled  to  do  so. 
Rabbenu  Tarn  disagrees  with  this  logical  extension  of  Rashi's 
view.  His  worry  is  that  this  ruling  would  give  women  a  conve- 
nient  way  to  terminate  an  unwanted  marriage  if  they  found 
another  man  they  desircd.  A  woman  in  such  a  position  would 
simply  State  that  her  husband  is  repulsive  to  her  and  refuse  to 
have  sexual  relations  with  him,  and  the  husband  would  be  forced 
to  divorce  her.  Rabbenu  Tarn  does  not  wish  to  give  women  such 
power.  Though  it  appears  that  Rashi's  view  does  give  women  a 


t 


i 


way  of  forcing  a  divorce,  the  Tosafot  undermines  this  possibility 
by  pointing  out  that  Rashi  does  not  explicitly  State  that  the  hus- 
band is  compelled  to  divorce  his  wife. 

The  Shulhan  Arukh  (Even  Ha-Ezer  77)  and  most  subsequent 
authorities  followed  the  opinion  of  Rabbenu  Tam  in  this  matter: 
while  of  course  they  expected  the  husband  to  divorce  his  wife  in 
such  circumstances,  they  did  not  compel  him  to  do  so.  But  as 
against  this  view  there  is  a  minority  tradition  which  follows  the 
rule  of  Maimonides,  who  held  that  a  man  is  compelled  to  divorce 
his  wife  if  she  attests  that  she  cannot  bear  to  have  sex  with  him: 

A  woman  who  denies  her  husband  sexual  intercourse  is  called  rebellious 
[moredet].  They  ask  her  why  she  has  rebelled.  If  she  says:  **I  despise  him 
and  I  cannot  bring  myself  to  be  possessed  [sexually]  by  him,"  they  com- 
pel him  to  divorce  her.  For  she  is  not  a  captive  that  she  should  be  pos- 
sessed by  one  who  is  hatefui  to  her.  And  she  goes  out  without  any  ke(u- 
bah  payment  at  all.  [Maimonides,  Mishneh  Torah,  Hilkhot  Ishut  14  :  8] 

Maimonides  justifies  the  forced  divorce  by  pointing  out  that  the 
woman  is  fundamentally  a  free  person.  She  is  not  a  captive  who 
can  be  forced  to  have  sexual  relations  against  her  will.  In  another 
place  Maimonides  refers  again  to  the  prohibition  against  a  hus- 
band's  raping  his  wife:  "He  may  not  rape  her  [Jo  ye'enos  oiah]  and 
may  not  cohabit  with  her  against  her  will,  but  only  with  her  con- 
sent and  out  of  mutual  arousal  ["talk"l  and  joy,"*^  even  though  he 
holds  that  as  a  general  rule  a  woman  should  accept  sexual  rela- 
tions with  her  husband  when  he  initiates  them  and  not  withhold 
sex  in  order  to  cause  him  unhappiness  or  push  him  to  make 
greater  displays  of  his  love  for  her.*" 

Maimonides  goes  even  further  and  compels  the  husband  to  di- 
vorce his  wife  if  he  requires  her  to  do  certain  things  which  violate 
her  dignity: 

A  man  who  makes  his  wife  vow  that  she  would  teil  others  what  he  says  to 
her  or  what  she  says  to  him  of  the  words  of  frivolity  and  jest  which  a  man 
exchanges  with  his  wife  during  sexual  relations — this  one  shall  be  com- 
pelled to  divorce  her  and  give  her  her  keiubah.  For,  she  cannot  be  asked 
to  be  brazen  and  teil  others  such  embarrassing  things.  And  so  also  if  he 
makes  her  promise  to  make  the  necessary  efforts  during  intercourse  so 


).  ^m- 


^\j»^ 


92 


WOMEN  AND  JEWISH  LAW 


that  she  would  not  conceive,  or  if  he  makes  her  do  silly  or  useless  things. 
Such  a  man  should  divorce  her  and  give  her  the  ketubah.  [Maiinonidos, 
Mishneh  Torah,  Hilkhot  Ishut  14:5] 

Making  a  joke  at  the  wife's  expense  by  requiring  her  to  teil  others 
about  intimate  matters  or  pcrform  silly  and  useless  tasks  is  forbid- 
den.  It  would  be  a  violation  of  a  marital  Obligation  stated  in  the 
ketubah:  to  honor  one's  wife.  The  last  case  is  that  of  a  man  who 
requires  bis  wife  to  try  to  prevent  conception  (this  is  probably  not 
by  using  contraception  but  by  "natural  means":  the  Talmud  reports 
the  opinion  of  Abbaye  that  ** Women  who  are  harlots  tum  over  after 
intercourse  in  order  to  prevent  conception,"  Yevamot  35b). 
Though  a  woman  is  not  legal ly  required  to  procreate,  and  therefore 
in  some  cascs  may  purposcfully  try  to  avert  or  prevent  conception, 
conceiving  and  childbearing  are  considered  a  "natural  right'*  of 
women  and  therefore  a  husband  may  not  require  bis  wife  to  avert 
conception  (see  Chapter  8  on  procreation  and  contraception). 

While  Maimonides  expands  the  ränge  of  cases  where  a  husband 
is  compelled  to  divorce  bis  wife,  other  halakhists  often  strictly 
adhere  to  the  definition  of  grounds  for  compelling  a  divorce  found 
in  the  Talmud.  This  is  true  even  where  the  "offensive  condition" 
seems  much  more  severe  than  those  cited  in  the  Talmud.  Such  is  a 
case  discussed  by  Rabbi  Jacob  ben  Asher,  the  author  of  the  Tun 

A  question  was  brought  before  my  father  the  Rosh  [Rabbenu  Asher  ben 
Yehiel]  of  blessed  memory  [and  he  ruled):  In  the  case  of  a  man  who  acts 
insane  [niishtateh]  every  day  and  his  wife  says:  "My  father  was  a  poor 
man  and  because  of  his  poverty  he  married  me  to  this  man  and  I  had 
thought  that  I  could  accept  [his  behavior]  but  it  is  impossible  because  he 
is  crazy  [metoraf]  and  I  am  afraid  that  he  might  kill  me  in  his  rage,"  we  do 
not  force  him  to  divorce  her  because  we  only  compel  those  who  are  cited 
by  the  Sages  as  ones  who  are  compelled  [to  divorce}.  Rather,  let  her 
persuade  him  [tefaysenu]  to  divorce  her  or  let  her  accept  him  and  live 
from  his  estate. 

The  woman  in  the  case  before  the  Rosh  is  not  forced  to  live  with  a 
husband  who  has  an  offensive  pliysical  defect  or  unpleasant  odor 
due  to  his  work.  Rather,  he  is  not  responsible  for  his  actions, 
acting  "insane"  and  apparcntly  having  daily  tantrums  of  uncon- 


DIVORCE 


93 


trollable  rage.  The  woman  lives  in  fear  for  her  life.  She  was  forced 
into  this  Situation  because,  being  poor,  her  father  could  not  afford 
the  dowry  necessary  to  marry  her  to  a  decent  man.  The  Rosh 
apparently  did  not  question  the  woman's  testimony  about  her 
husband's  behavior.  Yet  he  ruled  that  it  is  impossible  to  force  this 
husband  to  divorce  his  wife  in  order  to  free  her  from  danger.  This 
is  because  the  Talmud  did  not  specify  dangerous,  aggressive,  or 
"insane"  behavior  as  grounds  for  compelling  the  husband  to  di- 
vorce his  wife.  The  best  the  Rosh  can  offer  the  woman  is  two 
options.  The  first  is  to  use  her  charms  to  persuade  the  husband  to 
give  her  a  divorce  (the  same  term,  Je/ayes,  is  generally  used  to 
describe  the  manner  in  which  a  husband  should  persuade  his  wife 
to  have  sexual  relations  with  him  in  order  that  he  not  do  it  against 
her  wishes).  The  second  Option  is  for  the  woman  to  accept  the 
reality  of  her  Situation  and  remain  married  to  her  husband  but  live 
apart  from  him.  That  is  the  implication  of  the  Rosb's  Statement 
"let  her  live  from  his  estate." 

The  case  before  Rabbenu  Asher  ben  Yehiel  involved  a  man  de- 
scribed  as  insane  and  violent.  What  is  the  attitude  of  the  halakhic 
authorities  toward  domestic  violence  in  general?  Is  it  considered  a 
normal  part  of  marital  life  or  a  breach  of  its  fundamental  princi- 
ples?  There  is  a  ränge  of  attitudes  in  the  Halakhah.  Some  authori- 
ties regard  wife-beating  as  wholly  unacceptable,  and  rule,  unlike 
the  Rosh,  that  a  violent  husband  should  be  compelled  to  divorce 
his  wife  (if  she  seeks  a  divorce).  Others,  however,  do  accept  a 
limited  amount  of  beating  when  it  is  used  as  punishment  for  seri- 
ous  offenses,  and  do  not  regard  wife-beating  as  a  legitimate 
ground  for  compelling  a  man  to  divorce  his  wife. 

The  Maharam  of  Rothenburg  is  one  of  the  most  prominent  au- 
thorities to  whom  is  attributed  the  view  that  wife-beating  is  a 
breach  of  the  marital  Obligation,  and  who  would  therefore  compel 
a  husband  who  beats  his  wife  to  divorce  her.  The  Maharam's 
ruling  is:  "a  man  who  beats  his  wife  .  .  .  is  compelled  to  give  her  a 
divorce."'^  A  later  authority.  Binyamin  Ze'ev  (who  lived  in  the 
first  half  of  the  sixteenth  Century  in  Greece)  expands  this  view  by 
stating  "If  we  cannot  find  another  Solution  for  the  Situation,  we 
compel  him  to  divorce  her  and  give  her  the  ketubah  payment  even 


:<k^^.  .V 


.JÄ.v^>-4N*t««^v.Af 


94 


WOMMN  AND  JEWISH  LAW 


if  she  had  initially  acceptod  Ihe  Situation  knowingly."^"  In  olhcr 
words,  even  if  the  woman  had  accepted  being  beaton  by  her  hus- 
band  when  she  first  married  him,  if  she  wants  a  divorce  laier  on 
her  husband  is  compelled  lo  divorce  her  and  unhko  tho  rebeUioiis 
wife  she  does  not  lose  the  payment  that  is  her  due. 

The  strengest  condenniation  of  wife-beating  is  represented  in 
the  opinion  of  Rabbenu  Simhah  ben  Shmuel  of  Vilri  (autlior  of  the 
Vitri  Mahzor;  died  1105)  as  cited  by  Joseph  Karo  in  Bei  Ynsof,  bis 
commentary  on  the  Tun 

I  found  in  a  responsum  of  Riihbenu  Simhah  that  *'it  is  an  accepted  view 
that  we  have  to  treat  a  man  who  beats  his  wife  more  severely  than  we  Ireat 
a  man  who  beats  a  fellowman,  since  he  is  not  obligated  to  honor  iiim  but 
is  obhgated  to  honor  his  wife  more  than  himself.  And  a  man  who  doejs 
this  should  be  put  under  a  ban  and  excommunicated  and  flogged  and 
punished  with  various  forms  of  torment;  one  should  even  cut  off  his  band 
if  he  is  accustomed  to  it  [wif(}-beating].  And  if  he  wants  to  divorce  her  let 
him  divorce  her  and  give  her  the  ketubah  payment." 

Further  on  he  wrote:  "You  should  impose  peace  between  them  and  if 
the  husband  does  not  fulfill  his  part  in  maintaining  the  peace  but,  rather, 
continues  to  beat  her  and  denigrate  her,  let  him  be  excommunicated  and 
let  him  be  forced  by  gentile  (authoritiesj  to  gjve  her  a  gel,  .  .  ."  IJoseph 
Karo,  Bei  Yosef,  Even  Ha-Ezer  154  :  15] 

Rabbenu  Simhah  vievi^s  wife-beating  as  more  serious  than  assault- 
ing  a  man  because  in  addition  to  the  assault  one  violates  the  duty 
to  honor  his  wife,  a  duty  canonized  in  the  ketubcih.  He  mandates 
severe  punishments  as  the  first  step  in  dealing  with  a  wife-beater: 
a  herem  (ban  on  social  and  commercial  relationships),  excommu- 
nication,  and  corporal  punishment.  If  these  threats  and  measures 
do  not  stop  the  husband  from  abusing  his  wife,  he  is  to  be  com- 
pelled to  divorce  her.  Rabbenu  Simhah  prescribes  using  the  non- 
Jewish  authorities  to  obtain  such  a  divorce  if  necessary,  since  they 
have  power  to  impose  greater  punishments  than  the  Jewish 
Courts. 

As  against  these  authorities  who  compel  a  husband  to  divorce 
his  wife  if  he  beats  her,  stand  the  opinions  of  some  of  the  most 
important  figures  in  the  history  of  the  Halakhah:  Joseph  Karo, 
Maimonides,  and  Moses  Isseries.  None  of  them  advocates  or  ac- 


DIVORCE 


95 


cepts  severe  beating  and  physical  abuse  of  a  wife  by  her  husband, 
but  they  all  accept  limited  beatings.  Karo  rules  that  "we  should 
not  compel  a  husband  to  divorce  on  the  basis  of  such  grounds 
since  they  were  not  mentioned  [as  legitimate  grounds]  by  any  of 
the  famous  authorities  [ha-poskim  ha-me/ursamim]"  (Beit  Yosef, 
on  the  Tur,  Even  Ha-Ezer  154  :  15).  Maimonides  in  his  Mishneh 
Toroh  recommends  beating  a  bad  wife  as  a  form  of  discipline.^^ 
while  Moses  Isseries  in  his  commentary  on  the  Tur  refines  the 
circumstances  when  wife-beating  is  acceptable  as  a  punishment. 
He  rules  that  under  certain  circumstances  wife-beating  does  not 
justify  compelling  the  husband  to  divorce  his  wife,  but  "unwar- 
ranted"  wife-beating  does: 

.  .  .  For,  if  he  is  the  cause  [for  the  beating]  he  must  divorce  her.  Only, 
let  the  Bei  Din  warn  him  first  once  or  twice  |not  to  persist].  But  if  she  is 
the  cause  of  it,  for  example,  if  she  curses  him  or  denigrates  his  father  and 
mother  and  he  scolds  her  calmly  first  and  it  does  not  help,  then  it  is 
obvious  that  he  is  permitted  to  beat  her  and  castigate  her.  And  if  it  is  not 
known  who  is  the  cause,  the  husband  is  not  considered  a  reliable  source 
when  he  says  that  she  is  the  cause  and  portrays  her  as  a  harlot.  for  all 
women  are  presumed  to  be  law-abiding  [kesheroi].  [Moses  Isseries,  Dar- 
khei  Moshe,  Tur,  Even  Ha-Ezer  154  :  15] 

Isseries  distinguishes  between  two  kinds  of  wife-beating:  one  a 
form  of  aggression  by  the  husband  ("when  he  is  the  cause")  and  a 
second,  a  form  of  punishment  for  serious  offenses  ("when  she  is 
the  cause").  If  a  wife  persists  in  cursing  her  husband  and  his 
parents  and  does  not  mend  her  ways  after  he  talks  to  her  nicely,  he 
is  justified  in  beating  her  in  order  to  punish  her  and  stop  her 
behavior.  Should  a  husband  and  wife  each  accuse  the  other  of 
being  the  cause  of  the  beating,  the  court  is  to  discount  the  hus- 
band's  testimony.  Underlying  Isserles's  Statement  that  women  are 
generally  presumed  to  be  law-abiding  (i.e.,  "innocent  unless 
proven  guilty")  is  a  realization  that  the  husband  is  in  a  position  of 
greater  power  in  the  family  and  can  easily  accuse  his  wife  of 
transgressions  of  various  kinds  and  justify  his  beating  as  a  proper 
punishment.  The  fact  that  Issedes  favors  the  testimony  of  the 
woman  in  determining  who  is  at  fault  in  the  Situation  of  wife-beat- 


9:  t 


96 


WOMEN  AND  JEWISH  LAW 


DIVORCE 


97 


ing  somewhat  counterbalances  the  husband's  upper  band  in  the 

family. 

We  bave  seen  tbat  there  is  considerable  divergence  in  the  Hala- 
khah  regarding  the  question  of  whether  wife-beating  is  a  legiti- 
mate  reason  for  compelling  a  husband  to  divorce  bis  wife.  The  one 
extreme  in  the  ränge  of  opinions  is  tbat  wife-beating  is  not  a 
reason  for  compelling  a  divorce,  while  the  other  extreme  is  tbat 
wife-beating  is  a  sufficient  cause.  In  the  middle  is  the  position  of 
Isseries  who  distinguisbes  between  acceptable  pimitive  beating 
and  unwarranted  aggression  for  which  a  man  should  be  com- 
pelled  to  give  bis  wife  a  divorce.  The  question  of  wife-beating  in 
Jewish  law  and  life  requires  much  more  researcb  and  discussion. 
Clearly,  while  there  is  considerable  Opposition  to  wife-beating, 
the  "common  wisdom"  tbat  Jews  do  not  abuse  tbcir  wives  is  in- 
correct.  Those  who  wish  to  argue  this  position  often  cite  the  State- 
ment attributed  to  Mordecai  bcn  Hillel  (died  1298),  aiitbor  of  the 
influential  code  Se/er  Mordecai:  *'it  is  not  the  custom  of  our 
people.  only  of  the  gentiles."  But  they  do  not  refer  to  statemonts 
like  those  by  Maimonides  or  Isseries  who  favor  ])iinitivc  beating 
"for  a  just  cause.*'  One  indication  tbat  wife-beating  was  not  totally 
taboo  in  traditional  Jewisii  socicties  is  tbc  fact  tbat  recent  osti- 
mates  bave  placed  the  nuinber  of  abused  women  in  Israel  today  at 
around  100,000.^^  The  blame  for  this  is  often  placed  on  the  break- 
down  of  traditional  family  and  communal  structures.  Although 
this  is  certainly  the  critical  element,  it  still  seems  difficult  to  argue 
that  a  Problem  of  such  proportions  has  no  roots  in  patterns  of  the 

past. 

The  grounds  for  compelling  a  man  to  divorce  bis  wife  are,  tben, 
offensive  pbysical  conditions,  violation  of  marital  obligalions, 
and  for  some  authorities  sexual  incompatibility,  and  wife-beating. 
The  categories  may  of  course  intersect.  A  man  who  is  repulsive  to 
bis  wife  because  of  one  of  the  conditions  of  medical  ailment  or 
occupational  Situation  may  be  so  offensive  to  his  wife  that  sexual 
relations  become  unbearable.  A  man  who  vows  not  to  maintain 
his  wife  or  not  to  bave  sexual  relations  with  her  may  in  fact  be 
expressing  sexual  incompatibility  and  its  frustrations. 

These  categories  furnisb  women  with  a  limited  access  to  the 


power  that  men  bave  in  the  matter  of  divorce.  Under  any  of  these 
circumstances  a  woman  may  demand  that  her  husband  be  conri. 
pelled  to  issue  her  a  divorce.  But  how  is  that  done?  The  power  to 
compel  a  man  to  divorce  his  wife  rests  with  a  court.  a  Bet  Dm.  The 
woman  must  appeal  to  the  Bet  Din  and  ask  the  court  to  use  its 
power.  This  is  a  problematic  procedura  for  two  reasons^  First, 
there  is  a  fundamental  problcm  since  "a  man  can  give  a  divorce 
only  with  his  füll  consent"  (Yevamot  112b).  Second.  there  is  a 
practical  problem  of  how  the  court  can  actually  enforce  its  man- 
date  to  compel  certain  men  to  divorce  their  wives.  Both  issues  are 
addressed  in  the  following  talmudic  passage: 

Similarly  in  the  case  of  divorces  we  say  that  force  is  appHed  to  bim 
untVl  he  Ss  '[consent/'  But  there  too  perhaps  there  is  a  special  reason 
viz    hat  t  fs  a  religious  duty  to  listen  to  the  words  of  the  Sages.  What  we 
must  sIAherefo^  is  that  it  is  reasonable  to  suppose  that  under  the 
nrpssure  he  reallv  made  up  his  mind  [and  agreed|.  .  .  •  .       ui. 

•^  Rav  udah  questioned  this  |on  the  grounds  of  the  folow.ng  m.shnahl: 
"A  Lt  extorted  by  pressure  applied  by  an  Israehte  is  val  d.  but  if  he 
oVessureU  applied  by  a  non-Jew  it  is  invalid.  A  non-Jew  also,  however. 
SaTbe  commissioned  |by  a  Bet  Din]  to  flog  the  husband  and  say  to  h,m: 

%?;?h;is"ou[5Sgrb;  invalid  if  extorted  by  a  non-Jewl?  Car^not 
we  sa^that'in  that  case  alfo  the  man  makes  up  his  mind  under  pressure  to 
Rrant  the  divorce?  This  rule  must  be  understood  in  the  ligh  of  he  stale 
men  made  by  Rabbi  Mesharsheya:  According  to  the  Torah  .tself.  the  get 
TvaM  even  if  extorted  by  a  non-Jew.  and  the  reason  why  the  rabbis 
decTa  edT.nvalid  was  so  as  not  to  give  an  opportunity  to  any  lew.sh 
woman  tokeep  Company  with  a  non-Jew  and  so  release  herseif  from  her 
husband.  [Baba  Batra48al 

The  context  of  this  passage  is  a  rather  complex  discussion  of  prop- 
erty  claims  and  transactions  under  special  circumstances  of  du- 
ress.  The  significance  of  the  text  for  our  discussion  ts  what  we  can 
learn  about  compelling  a  man  to  divorce  bis  w.fe.  The  .dea  of 
compelling  someone  to  an  act  which  should  be  done  by  cho.ce 
troubling.  It  is  explained  by  saying  that  pressure  is  applied  untU 
he  man  States  "I  consent."  Whereas  in  the  case  of  selhng  property 
all  we  can  say  to  justify  this  is  "it  is  reasonable  o  suppose  th 
under  the  pressure  he  realJy  made  up  bis  mind  to  seil.   i.e..  under 


98 


WOMEN  AND  JEWISH  LAW 


pressure  he  had  a  genuine  change  of  heart  (a  probleniatic  con- 
cept),  in  the  case  of  divorce  we  can  add  the  weight  of  the  Obliga- 
tion to  heed  the  ruiings  of  the  rabbis.  In  other  words,  though 
initially  the  husband  doos  not  wish  to  divorce  his  wife,  once 
ordered  to  do  so  by  a  court  he  is  under  legal  Obligation  to  follow 
the  Order.  We  can  assume,  at  Icast  for  the  sake  of  argument,  if  not 
as  a  believable  Statement  of  reality,  that  the  husband  would  not 
wish  to  violate  the  law  by  disregarding  the  Orders  of  the  rabbis, 
and  therefore  will  genuinely  consent  to  divorcing  his  wife. 

The  reason  the  rabbis  ongage  in  such  a  tortured  argument  is 
their  wish  to  allow  women  access  to  divorce  in  circumstances  of 
extreme  need  despite  the  hoJakhah  that  a  man  must  give  a  divorce 
of  his  own  volition.  Indeed  Rav  Judah  calls  for  the  use  of  forco  in 
compelling  a  divorce  because  he  apparently  has  serious  donbts 
that  the  mere  duty  to  listen  to  the  rabbis  and  respect  their  autlior- 
ity  will  be  sufficient  to  change  the  mind  of  a  stubborn  man. 

The  mishnah  cited  by  Rav  Judah^^  begins  by  making  a  clear 
distinction  between  a  divorce  extorted  by  a  Jewish  court  and  one 
extorted  by  a  gentile  court,  but  then  in  practice  gets  around  the 
distinction.  The  need  to  insure  a  way  to  compel  a  stubborn  hus- 
band to  divorce  his  wife  ovorpowers  the  rabbis'  reluctance  to  open 
the  door  to  power  and  authority  outside  their  control.  The  logical 
mechanism  employed  to  get  around  the  mishnoh's  rule  is  to  argue 
that  though  a  divorce  extorted  by  a  non-Jewish  court  is  invalid,  a 
divorce  extorted  by  a  non-jew  ai  the  bidding  of  a  Jewish  couri  is 
valid.  The  significance  of  this  refinement  of  the  law  is  that  non- 
Jewish  Courts  held  much  greater  punitive  powers  than  Jewish 
Courts,  so  their  threat  was  of  greater  consequence.  In  the  case  of  an 
extremely  stubborn  husband,  when  the  power  ofa  Jewish  courl  to 
apply  pressure,  exhort,  and  make  threats  did  not  suffice,  "a  non- 
Jew  could  be  commissioned  to  flog  the  husband  and  say  to  him: 
Do  what  the  Israelite  bids  you."  It  was  important  then  to  make  a 
Provision  for  utilizing  tho  power  of  non-Jewish  authorities  to 
compel  a  divorce  in  extreme  circumstances.  Yet  it  was  also  neces- 
sary  to  avoid  opening  up  an  avenue  for  undermining  the  structure 
of  the  Jewish  Community  and  its  institutions.  As  Rabbi  Meshar- 
sheya  explains:  if  a  non-Jewish  authority  could  extort  a  valid  di- 


DIVORCE 


99 


vorce  this  would  encourage  a  woman  who  was  unhappy  with  her 
marriage  to  "keep  Company  with  a  non-Jew  and  so  release  herseif 
from  her  husband."  This  would  pose  a  threat  both  to  marriages 
and  to  the  government  of  Halakhah  through  Jewish  authorities. 
The  upshot  of  this  discussion  is  that  white  a  Jewish  court  can  use 
the  "Services"  of  non-Jewish  authorities  to  compel  a  reluctant 
husband  to  divorce  his  wife,  a  woman  cannot  "take  the  law  into 
her  own  hands"  by  befriending  a  non-Jew  and  getting  him  to  have 
the  non-Jewish  authorities  extort  a  divorce  from  her  husband. 
Control  over  divorces  remains  then  in  the  hands  of  Jewish  courts. 
A  woman  who  wishes  to  end  her  marriage  because  her  husband  is 
offensive  to  her,  or  does  not  fulfiU  his  marital  duties,  (or  is  sexu- 
ally incompatible  with  her)  must  appeal  to  a  Bei  Din  to  exercise 
the  power  to  compel  a  divorce.  The  process  would  clearly  be  a 
painful  one,  so  we  can  confidently  assume  that  it  was  usually 
limited  to  cases  of  extreme  marital  disharmony. 

Today  the  need  to  use  the  authority  of  a  civil  court  in  extreme 
cases  of  husbands*  refusing  to  grant  a  get  remains.  In  the  State  of 
Israel,  it  is  of  course  not  a  gentile  court.  Rather,  according  to 
Israeli  law  the  rabbinical  courts  have  the  authority  to  appeal  to  the 
civil  courts  and  the  police  and  request  the  incarceration  ofa  recal- 
citrant  husband.  In  the  Diaspora,  the  use  of  civil  courts  continues 
to  be  problematic.  In  the  nineteenth  Century,  following  the  Institu- 
tion of  secular  divorce  in  France,  Rabbi  Michael  Weil  of  Paris 
proposed  a  fundamental  Solution  to  the  problem  by  suggesting 
that  any  divorce  granted  by  the  French  courts  shall  automatically 
annul  the  power  of  the  kiddushin  so  that  a  get  will  not  be  neces- 
sary.  The  Suggestion  was  summarily  rejected.  In  the  twentieth 
Century  there  have  been  a  number  of  proposals  advanced  regard- 
ing  the  use  of  civil  authorities  to  enforce  the  will  of  a  Jewish  court 
as  well  as  a  number  of  actual  trials  where  a  civil  court  intervened 
to  secure  a  Jewish  divorce. ^"^  However,  none  of  the  proposals  or 
actual  cases  gained  sufficient  rabbinical  approval  or  recognition 
to  serve  as  a  general  precedent  and  guideline.  In  the  Diaspora 
today  within  the  Orthodox  world  it  is  not  uncommon  to  use  civil 
authorities  to  force  a  stubborn  husband  to  grant  a  divorce,  not  by 
appealing  to  a  court  to  compel  him  directly,  but  by  using  threats  of 


100 


WOMEN  AND  JEWISH  LAW 


other  legal  actions  against  him,  particularly  threats  to  initiale  in- 
vestigations  of  tax  evasions,  etc.  In  New  York  City  there  is  a 
women's  league  which  has  been  established  by  Orthodox  women 
in  Order  to  bring  maximal  pressure  to  bear  on  husbands  who  re- 
fuse  a  divorce.  The  State  of  New  York  passed  a  law  in  1983  which 
essentially  requires  a  religious  divorce  as  a  prerequisite  fora  civil 
divorce.  This  law  is  a  large  slep  toward  greater  reliance  on  civil 
laws  to  enforce  Jewish  law  and  resolve  the  problem  of  the  recalci- 
trant  husband  (see  Chapter  4). 

The  talmudic  prescription  for  compelling  a  man  to  divorce  his 
wife  in  certain  circumstances  and  the  medieval  ban  on  divorcing  a 
woman  against  her  consent  are  two  fundamental  changes  in  the 
laws  of  divorce.  The  first  balances  the  power  of  a  man  to  divorce 
his  wife  for  practically  any  cause  by  allowing  a  woman  with 
"good  cause"  to  seek  a  divorce  through  a  court.  The  second  curbs 
the  unilateral  power  of  a  man  to  divorce  his  wife  at  will  by  requir- 
ing  her  consent  to  the  divorce.  Yet  neither  Innovation  fully  solves 
the  problem  of  inequality  of  power  between  men  and  women  in 
divorce.  Extreme  cases  are  possible  and  have  occurred,  wherethe 
power  of  a  court  falls  to  compel  a  man  to  divorce  his  wife  even  if 
the  grounds  for  divorce  are  indisputably  legitimate.  Even  in  Israel 
where  the  rabbinical  courts  rely  on  the  power  of  the  civil  govern- 
ment  to  impose  their  decisions  there  have  been  a  few  cases  where 
a  man  simply  could  not  be  compelied  to  divorce  his  wife.  The 
most  celebrated  case  has  been  of  a  husband  who,  in  order  to  spile 
his  estrangcd  wife,  has  been  incarcerated  in  prison  for  years  but 
still  refuses  to  give  her  a  gel. 

The  ban  of  Rabbenu  Gershom  against  divorcing  a  woman  with- 
out  her  consent  suffers  from  a  similar  problem  due  to  the  imbal- 
ance  of  powers  underlying  the  laws  of  divorce.  If  a  woman  tries  to 
match  the  stubbornness  of  the  recalcitrant  husband  described 
above  the  Bet  Din  can  resolve  the  problem  against  her  wishes  by 
suspending  the  ban  of  Rabbenu  Gershom,  that  is,  either  permitting 
her  husband  to  divorce  her  against  her  consent  or  to  marry  a 
second  wife.  In  addition,  should  a  woman  go  on  refusing  to  accept 
a  divorce,  her  husband  can  threaten  her  with  simply  leaving  her 
and  establishing  a  relationship  with  another  unattached  woman. 


DIVORCE 


101 


A  married  man  who  has  children  with  another  woman  does  not 
thereby  make  his  children  mamzerim  or  bastards  (as  long  as  the 
other  woman  is  unmarried),  as  does  a  married  woman  who  has 
children  with  another  man.  Thus  the  horror  of  making  his  chil- 
dren suffer  for  an  illicit  relationship  does  not  hang  over  a  man 
who  cannot  get  his  wife  to  accept  a  divorce  as  it  does  over  a 
woman  who  cannot  obtain  a  divorce  from  her  husband. 

Despite  significant  changes  in  the  law  of  divorce  which  protect 
women  and  grant  them  some  power  and  control  over  divorce,  the 
Overall  balance  remains  greatly  unfavorable  to  women.  Women 
remain  very  often  at  the  mercy  of  their  husbands,  especially  when 
they  are  the  ones  who  desire  a  divorce.  A  husband  has  the  power 
to  delay  and  even  prevent  his  wife  from  remarrying  by  refusing  to 
give  her  a  divorce.  As  we  shall  see  in  the  next  chapter,  a  man  may 
deliberately  force  his  wife  into  the  tragic  State  of  the  agunah,  the 
woman  who  neither  lives  a  married  life  with  her  husband  nor  has 
the  Option  of  marrying  another  man.  A  woman  in  such  a  Situation 
can  fight  for  resolution  by  appealing  to  rabbis  and  courts,  but  she 
fights  against  considerable  obstacles,  all  embedded  in  the  original 
biblical  definition  of  divorce  as  a  unilateral  act  of  the  husband. 


^^4=^ 


THE  AGUNAH  AND  THE 

YEVAMAH 


The  Agunah 

The  fate  of  the  agunah  is  porhaps  the  most  tragic  conscquenco  of 
the  laws  of  marriage  and  divorcc.  The  agunah  is  a  woman  whoso 
marriage  is  in  fact  ended  or  suspended,  but  who  legally  romains  a 
married  woman  (eshet  ish),  iinable  to  remarry.  The  agunah  is 
bound  (agunah  means  "anchored")  to  a  husband  who  no  longer 
lives  with  her  but  she  caniiot  **acquire  herseif"  and  bo  free  to 
marry  another  man.  There  are  several  circumstances  whicli  caus(5 
a  woman  to  become  an  agu nn Ji : 

1.  The  husband  deserts  his  wifo  and  disappears. 

2.  The  husband  dies  but  there  is  no  valid  testimony  for  his 
death. 

3.  The  marriage  is  untenahlo  but  the  husband  refuses  to  divorce 
his  wife  despite  the  threats  and  punitive  measures  of  a  Bai  Diu 
(seeChapter  3). 

4.  The  marriage  is  untenahhj  but  the  husband  is  legally  incom- 
petent  to  grant  a  divorce  (usually  on  account  of  insanity). 

5.  A  woman  becomes  a  yovamah  and  the  Jevir  refuses  to  per- 
form either  Jevirate  marriage;  or  liaJitzah,  or  his  whereabouts  are 
not  known,  or  he  is  an  apostale. 

The  Problem  of  the  agunah  is  not  discussed  in  the  Bible.  There 
is  only  one  use  of  the  term  (Ruth  1:13)  and  it  does  not  have  the 
precise  legal  meaning  of  agi nut  in  later  texts.  However,  in  the 
Mishnah  and  the  Talmud  we  find  ample  discussion  of  the  prob- 

102 


THE  AGUNAH  AND  THE  YEVAMAH 


103 


lem,  and  the  responsa  literature  (especially  from  the  late  Middle 
Ages  onwards,  as  the  mobility  of  Jews  increased)  is  replete  with 
cases  of  agunot  (plural  of  agunah).^  Problems  of  agunot  received 
so  much  attention  in  the  halakhic  literature  for  two  reasons:  first 
and  foremost,  because  of  the  tragic  Situation  of  the  agunah,  who 
was  neither  married  nor  unmarried,  and  second,  because  the  grav- 
ity  of  the  problem  often  impelled  most  rabbis  to  seek  the  advice 
and  ruling  of  their  prominent  contemporaries  rather  than  rule  on 
their  own. 

The  Halakhah  had  to  grapple  with  a  tension  between  the  desire 
(in  fact  the  mitzvah)  to  find  ways  of  permitting  the  agunah  to 
remarry  and  the  great  fear  of  ruling  incorrectly  and  allowing  a 
married  woman  to  marry  another  man.  The  fear  of  permitting  an 
adulterous  marriage  by  mistake  is  so  great  because  this  transgres- 
sion  is  a  very  grave  one,  and  because  the  law  requires  that  should 
the  first  husband  turn  up,  the  woman  must  be  divorced  by  her 
second  husband  but  is  barred  from  remarrying  her  first.  She 
would  be  forbidden  to  both  men.  If  she  has  any  children  with  the 
second  husband  they  would  be  mamzerim  (bastards).^  One  after 
another  the  rabbis  describe  their  agony  and  anxiety  in  making 
definitive  decisions  in  cases  of  agunot.  They  are  caught  between 
the  hammer  of  declaring  a  woman  an  agunah  and  thus  condemn- 
ing  her  to  spend  her  life  waiting  for  a  husband  who  will  never 
return,  and  the  anvil  of  permitting  adultery  by  allowing  a  married 
woman  to  remarry. 

The  side  of  leniency  in  the  problem  of  the  agunah  is  succinctly 
stated  by  Rabbenu  Asher  ben  Yehiel  (1250-1328):  "One  must  in- 
vestigate  all  possible  avenues  in  order  to  release  [le-hatir]  an  agu- 
nah" (Responsa  of  Rosh  51  :  2).  A  rabbi  ruling  on  the  case  of  an 
agunah  should  make  every  effort  to  permit  her  to  remarry.  and 
according  to  another  authority,  David  ben  Zimra,  should  avoid 
being  overzealous  in  contriving  reasons  to  bar  her  from  remarriage: 


And  you  can  see  with  your  own  eyes  that  every  wise  man  {hakham,  i.e., 
rabbi]  must  seek  out  arguments  for  releasing  [the  agunah],  since  it  is  like 

a  Situation  of  danger  [ke-mekom  sakanah] And  whoever  seeks  out 

speculations  and  exacting  details  in  order  to  rule  strictly  and  forbid  (re- 


.\^'if-^: 


IM 


\VO.\fE\  A\D  JEW'ISH  LAIV 


marriagej  and  to  make  the  woman  an  agunah,  the  rabbis  Ihakhamhu]  are 
displeased  wifh  him.  (David  ben  Zimra  (Radbaz),  Responsa,  No.  25| 

The  agunah  is  in  a  Situation  of  "danger,"  according  lo  David 
ben  Zimra,  not  only  because  of  the  grave  consequences  of  the  state 
of  aginut,  but  also  because  solving  her  problem  requires  urgency. 
If  the  agunah  is  not  released  quickly  with  the  evidencc  that  is 
available  immediately.  the  chance  for  resolution  decreases  dra- 
matically  and  the  woman  might  eventualiy  commit  aduhery  if  she 
cannot  be  legally  released  to  remarry.  If  a  woman  is  in  danger  of 
becommg  an  agunah  because  her  husband  has  deserted  her  orhas 
disappeared   under  mysterious  circumstances,  the  longer  öne 
waits  the  less  likely  it  is  that  his  traces  would  be  found.  If  the 
husband  is  thought  to  be  dead  but  there  is  no  direct  evidence  of 
his  death.  one  must  seek  witnesses  immediately,  since  with  the 
passage  of  time  memory  vanishes  and  witnesses  disappear.  Fi- 
nally,  the  passage  of  time  is  a  considerable  disability  for  the 
woman  who  seeks  to  be  released  from  aginut,  for  if  she  comes  to  a 
rabbi  a  long  time  after  the  circumstances  which  caused  her  to 
become  an  agunah  had  occurred,  he  might  well  suspect  that  her 
arguments  for  being  released  and  allowed  to  remarry  are  very 
weak.  Olherwise.  he  would  naturally  reason,  why  would  she  have 
waited  so  long  in  the  agonized  state  of  aginut  before  comina  to 
request  his  ruling? 

The  principle  of  urging  quick  resolution  of  the  problems  of  agu- 
nof  IS  augmented  by  permitting  testimony  of  the  kind  that  is  unac- 
ceptable  in  most  categories  of  litigation.  such  as  the  testimony  of  a 
woman.  a  minor,  or  words  heard  in  passing  in  the  conversation  of 
non-Jews.  This  kind  of  testimony  is  particularly  important  in  the 
cases  of  aginut  which  are  due  to  the  husband's  death  under  un- 
clear  circumstances.  These  are  the  intractable  cases  of  aginut   be- 
cause whereas  a  deserter  may  ultimately  be  found  and  a  reluc'tant 
husband  eventualiy  convinced  or  compelled  to  divorce  his  wifo  a 
man  who  has  died  is  gone  for  good,  and  if  there  is  no  diroct 
testimony  to  his  death.  no  new  evidence  is  likely  to  arise.  In  such 
cases  the  Halakhah  accepts  the  testimony  of  only  one  witnoss 
(normally  two  male  witnesses  are  required),  as  well  as  of  persons 


THE  AGUNAH  AND  THE  YEVAMAH 


105 


who  are  usually  ineligible  to  be  witnesses,  including  the  wife 
herseif.  Only  five  women  are  invalid  witnesses  for  an  agunah 
whose  husband  has  died:  all  are  close  relatives  on  the  husband's 
side  (his  mother,  sister,  second  wife,  wife  by  Jevirate  marriage, 
and  daughter  by  another  wife).  These  women  may  be  hostile  to  the 
agunah  and  therefore  their  testimony  is  suspect.  They  may  be 
plotting  to  get  rid  of  her:  if  they  testify  that  her  husband  is  dead 
and  she  subsequently  remarries,  then  when  the  first  husband  re- 
appears  she  is  forbidden  to  both  her  husbands.  Such  plotting  is 
probably  more  a  theoretical  than  a  realistic  possibility,  but  it  is 
sufficient  to  invalidate  the  testimony  of  the  husband's  dosest  fe- 
male  relatives. 

The  woman  herseif,  as  we  have  said,  though  by  no  means  a 
neutral  party,  is  a  legitimate  witness  to  her  husband's  death.  The 
reason  for  this  is  that  were  she  to  give  false  testimony,  the  woman 
would  be  placing  herseif  in  a  very  risky  position.  If  her  husband, 
whom  she  had  reported  dead,  ever  returns  to  her,  she  is  an  adul- 
teress.  The  presumption  of  the  Halakhah  is  that  "concerning  such 
matters  as  are  bound  to  come  to  light,  one  does  not  He"  (Yevamot 
93b).  One  would  not  testify  that  a  man  had  died  unless  it  is  true, 
otherwise  the  "dead  man"  may  one  day  reappear  and  uncover  the 
deception. 

Against  the  leniency  in  accepting  testimony  which  would  free  an 
agunah  and  allow  her  to  remarry  Stands  the  caution  required  to 
prevent  adulterous  marriages.  Permitting  a  married  woman  to 
marry  another  man  meant  permitting  and  assisting  in  a  grave  sex- 
ual transgression  and  allowing  the  possibility  of  the  birth  of  mam- 
zerim.  Therefore  in  cases  where  the  husband  was  alive  no  leniency 
could  be  found  to  permit  a  woman  to  marry  another  unless  she  had 
a  divorce.  In  the  cases  of  a  deceased  husband,  though  the  testimony 
of  one  witness  was  sufficient,  that  testimony  had  to  include  direct 
evidence  of  the  man's  death.  For  example,  a  man  seen  drowning  in 
a  large  body  of  water  whose  boundaries  cannot  be  seen  (yam  she- 
ein  lo  sof)  cannot  be  considered  dead  unless  his  body  is  found. 
There  is  a  remote  chance  that  he  survived  and  emerged  from  the 
water  beyond  the  witness's  horizon.  Presumption  of  death,  as  logi- 
cal  as  it  may  be,  is  not  acceptable  as  proof  of  death. ^ 


106 


WOMEN  AND  JEWISH  LAW 


Under  normal  circumslances,  as  we  have  alroady  statod,  a 
woman  who  testifies  that  hör  husband  is  dead  is  deemed  a  reliable 
witness  and  is  permitted  to  rcmarry.  Such  normal  circumstaiicos 
are  defined  in  the  Mishnah  hy  Iwo  factors:  '*When  there  is  peace  in 
the  World  and  peace  betwoon  him  and  her"  (Yevamot  114b).  In 
peaceful  times  when  familitjs  are  intact  in  their  communitios  and  a 
death  occurs,  the  circumstances  are  known  to  the  woman  and  to 
other  members  of  the  connnunity.  This  assures  that  the  woman 
who  States  "My  husband  is  doad"  most  probably  has  actually  secm 
him  dead  and  is  unlikely  to  I  ic  since  other  members  of  the  Commu- 
nity are  involved  as  well.  The  second  requirement  for  relying  on 
the  wife*s  testimony  alono  is  that  "there  has  been  poace  betweon 
him  and  her."  If  it  is  known  to  have  been  otherwise,  one  might 
suspect  the  woman  would  testify  to  her  husband's  death  just  in 
Order  to  be  rid  of  him.  Such  deception  is  particularly  feared  in  the 
case  of  a  couple  who  travelcd  away  from  their  own  Community. 

A  similar  Situation  of  presumed  death  which  may  not  releaso  an 
ni!,un(ih  is  that  of  death  in  war: 

And  if  there  is  a  war  in  the  world  and  she  [the  dgunah}  comes  and  says: 
•*My  husband  is  dead,"  she  is  not  rehable,  even  if  there  was  peace  be- 
tween  them.  She  would  probal)ly  rely  (in  her  statement]  on  the  presump- 
tion  that  most  of  the  soldiers  died  and  therefore  he  must  have  died  too. 
For  example:  if  the  first  ones  and  the  last  ones  were  killed  and  her  hus- 
band was  in  the  middle,  she  would  say:  since  these  were  killed  and  tiioso 
were  killed,  he  was  killed  among  them. 

Therefore,  she  is  not  reliable;  even  if  she  says  "I  buried  him."  Some 
say:  if  she  says  "I  buried  him"  she  is  reliable.  And  if  she  says  "He  died  in 
bis  bed"  she  is  reliable  accordiiig  to  everyone's  opinion.  [Yevamot  114lj]^ 

In  times  of  war,  as  described  in  Yevamot  114b,  the  ruies  chango.  If 
a  woman  whose  husband  wont  to  war  states  that  he  had  died,  her 
testimony  is  not  considered  reliable.  This  is  the  case  even  if  there 
was  peace  between  husband  and  wife  before  the  war  and  thus  no 
rcason  to  suspect  the  woman  of  deception.  The  woman  is  most 
likely  to  assume  that  her  husband  is  dead  on  the  basis  of  reasou- 
able  considerations,  but  without  direct  testimony.  The  Situation  is 
illustrated  in  the  example  in  Yevamot.  The  soldiers  in  the  battio 


THE  AGÜNAH  AND  THE  YEVAMAH 


107 


were  arranged  in  three  groups:  those  in  the  front,  those  in  the 
middle,  and  those  in  the  back.  The  woman  has  been  given  testi- 
mony that  those  in  the  front  and  those  in  the  back  were  killed.  Her 
husband  did  not  return  from  the  war.  The  logical  conclusion  is 
that  since  he  was  in  the  middle  he  was  killed  as  well.  But  this  is 
only  a  logical  guess  and  there  is  at  least  a  distant  chance  that  he 
survived.  Therefore  a  woman  who  testifies  that  her  husband  died 
in  war  is  not  reliable.  The  text  goes  even  further:  "even  if  she  says: 
*I  buried  him'  she  is  not  reliable."  This  seems  puzzling  since  it 
appears  that  she  has  direct  evidence  of  her  husband's  death.  The 
late-seventeenth-century  commentary  Bei  ShmueJ  (by  Samuel 
ben  Uri  Shraga  Feibish)  on  the  ShuJhan  Arukh,  Even  Ha-Ezer 
17  :  48,  explains  that  the  woman  who  says  "I  buried  him"  is  not 
reliable  because  "we  suspect  that  she  might  be  lying  since  it  is  not 
usually  possible  in  a  war  to  linger  and  bury  him."  If.  alternatively, 
the  body  was  brought  back  from  the  war  her  testimony  is  still 
suspect  since  disfigurement  of  battle  wounds  and  the  delay  be- 
tween death  and  burial  make  identification  problematic.  Several 
possible  questions  about  the  likelihood  of  a  woman's  identifying 
her  dead  husband  and  burying  him  in  the  midst  of  war  must  have 
caused  the  rabbis  to  reject  the  testimony  of  such  a  woman.  But  not 
everyone  agreed  with  this  position:  "some  say:  if  she  says:  'I 
buried  him'  she  is  reliable."  Another  principle  in  judging  whether 
or  not  the  testimony  of  a  woman  is  reliable  is  advanced  by  Rabbi 
Judah  Ha-Nasi,  who  judges  by  the  mood  and  appearance  of  the 
woman: 

Rabbi  Judah  says:  In  all  cases  she  is  not  reliable  unless  she  comes  forth 
crying  and  her  clothes  torn.  They  said  to  him:  Both  this  one  and  that  one 
shall  marry.  [Yevamot  114b]'* 

Rabbi  Judah  suggests  that  the  testimony  of  a  woman  that  her  hus- 
band died  should  only  be  accepted  if  there  are  clear  signs  that  she 
is  mourning  him:  she  is  distraught  and  her  clothes  are  torn  as  a 
sign  of  bereavement.  If  she  does  not  show  such  signs  one  would 
naturally  suspect  her  testimony.  If  the  woman  shows  no  sorrow  it 
would  seem  that  there  was  no  peace  between  husband  and  wife 


108 


VVOMEN  AND  JEWISH  LAW 


during  the  marriage  and  that  invalidates  her  testimony.  However, 
the  majority  rules  that  outward  signs  of  bereavement  are  not  le- 
gally  required.  Whether  she  comes  to  testify  crying  or  not,  in 
mourning  or  not,  she  would  be  allowed  to  remarry  on  the  strongth 
of  her  own  testimony. 

As  we  have  seen,  while  the  requirements  concerning  the  wit- 
nesses  are  lax  because  of  the  danger  of  aginut  (Yevamot  93b),  the 
Standards  demanding  direct  evidence  of  death  remain  firm,  and 
these  are  sometimes  impossible  to  meet.  The  problem  of  oblaining 
direct  evidence  of  death  is  particularly  severe  in  cases  of  death  by 
v^ar,  highuray  robbery,  and  other  types  of  attack  such  as  a  pogrom. 
Death  under  such  circumstances  often  meant  that  the  widovi^  be- 
came  an  agunah.  This  has  become  a  problem  of  greator  and  more 
tragic  proportions  in  recent  history  due  to  the  Holocaust.  An  un- 
precedented  number  of  deaths  occurred  w^ith  no  one  surviving  to 
bear  direct  testimony.  Many  wromen  who  by  extraordin^ry  luck 
survived  the  Holocaust  bocame  agunot.  Because  of  the  "Holocaust 
agunot"  there  has  been  increased  interest  in  flnding  newr  Solu- 
tions to  the  problem,  and  uncovering  Solutions  proposcd  in  earlier 
halakhic  sources.^ 

The  Mishnah,  perhaps  rcading  the  problem  of  the  ngunah  into 
the  Bible.  states  that  already  during  the  time  of  the  Monarchy  a 
Solution  to  the  problem  of  wartime  agunot  had  evolved:  "Anyone 
going  out  to  the  wars  of  the  House  of  David  v^ould  give  Ins  v^ife  a 
writ  of  divorce"  (Ketubot  9b).  The  chance  of  being  killed  in  war 
with  no  direct  witness  surviving  was  such  that  a  man  would  di- 
vorce his  wife  before  going  lo  war  in  order  to  preempt  Ihn  threat  of 
her  becoming  an  agunah. 

Rashi  and  Rabbenu  Tarn,  in  their  commentaries  on  Ketubol  9b, 
differ  in  their  interpretalions  of  this  "prebattle  divorce."  Rashi 
argues  that  the  get  given  by  mcn  on  their  way  to  war  was  a  condi- 
tional  divorce:  it  was  wrilten  out  but  not  officially  given  to  the 
woman.  If  the  husband  did  not  return  from  the  war  and  was  pre- 
sumed  dead,  an  agcnt  appointed  by  the  husband  prior  to  his  de- 
parture  or  a  Bei  Din  conld  "activate"  the  divorce  by  formal ly 
delivering  it  into  the  woman's  hands.  This  notion  of  a  conditional 
get  is  problematic.  First  of  all,  in  principle  a  get  is  an  instrument 


THE  AGÜNAH  AND  THE  YEVAMAH 


109 


to  dissolve  a  marriage  which  is  no  longer  tenable  and  not  a  safe- 
guard  against  future  misfortunes  for  a  happily  married  couple. 
Second,  a  get,  once  written,  should  be  delivered  to  the  woman  as 
promptly  as  possible  since  a  man  is  not  allowed  to  continue  mar- 
ried life  with  a  woman  he  has  decided  to  divorce.  There  are  also 
many  complications  in  the  details  of  execution.  Since  an  agent 
must  be  appointed  there  is  always  the  danger  that  the  agent  him- 
self  will  die  or  disappear  and  then  the  woman  would  be  an  agu- 
nah just  the  same.  As  for  the  possibility  of  appointing  a  Bet  Din 
(rather  than  a  specific  individual)  as  an  agent  for  this  purpose. 
there  are  many  doubts  raised  in  the  halakhic  literature  as  to 
whether  a  Bei  Din  can  function  as  a  shaliah,  a  personal  agent.^ 

Therefore  Rabbenu  Tam  prefers  a  different  Interpretation  of  the 
passage  in  Ketubot.  He  argues  that  the  get  in  question  was  a  full- 
fledged  one,  but  a  promise  was  made  between  husband  and  wife 
that  if  the  husband  returns  from  the  war  they  would  remarry. 
Rabbenu  Tam's  Solution  is  not  without  problems  either.  First,  if 
the  husband  is  a  priest  he  may  not  remarry  his  wife  since  she  is, 
formally  speaking,  a  divorcee.  and  priests  are  forbidden  to  marry 
divorc6es.  Second,  if  when  the  husband  returns  one  of  the  parties 
does  not  honor  the  promise  to  remarry,  the  divorce,  which  ini- 
tially  was  not  in  earnest,  holds  without  any  conditions  and  the 
rejected  spouse  has  no  recourse. 

The  conditional  divorce  and  the  divorce  before  going  out  to  war 
are  two  possible  ways  to  avert  the  threat  of  a  woman's  becoming 
an  agunah,  but  both  of  them  are  legally  problematic  and  have  not 
been  accepted  as  regulär  measures  for  preventing  aginut.  Other 
suggestions  have  been  proposed  but  they  are  also  burdened  by 
complications.  One  Suggestion  is  to  Institute  marriages  limited  m 
time:  to  stipulate  in  the  ketubah  that  the  marriage  is  effective  for 
so  many  years.  If  by  the  end  of  the  stipulated  period  the  husband 
is  not  present  to  renew  the  marriage,  the  woman  is  automatically 
unmarried  and  will  not  become  an  agunah.  This  idea  does  not  sit 
well  with  the  fundamental  notion  of  kiddushin:  that  a  couple 
marries  with  the  hope  of  lifelong  commitment  and  only  divorces 
when  the  marriage  is  untenable.  Another  Suggestion  is  stipulating 
in  the  ketubah  that  the  marriage  would  be  annulled  if  the  husband 


-  -  -» 


;v6.\rz_\  /j.; 


;-'.'•  liriL.-/»*/ 


THE  AGÜNAH  AND  THE  YEVAMAH 


111 


is  absent  for  a  certain  amount  of  time.  This  notion  relies  on  the 
ruling  which  permits  the  rabbis  to  annul  a  marriage  which  is 
inappropriate  (Yevamot  110a),  but  as  we  have  already  stated  in 
our  discussion  of  annulment  of  marriage,  that  is  itself  a  difficult 
procedure  to  sustain/ 

The  Conservative  movement  in  America  attempted  to  deal  with 
the  Problem  of  agunot  due  to  the  husband's  disappearance  or 
refusal  to  grant  a  divorce  through  the  Instrument  of  the  keiubab. 
An  addition  to  the  keiubab  proposed  in  1954  by  Saul  Lieberman 
had  the  couple  mutually  agrec  to  submit  to  the  authority  of  a  ßet 
Din  to  determine  the  terms  for  the  dissolution  of  the  marriage  (if 
this  is  not  accomplished  by  mutual  consent)  when  it  deems  this 
appropriate  according  to  Halakhah.  The  proposal  met  with  severe 
criticism  from  Orthodox  quarters.  Though  the  addendum  has 
been  maintained  in  Conservative  kctuboi,  its  validity  and  enforce- 
ability  remain  questionable."  Another  preemptive  measure  was 
proposed  and  ratified  by  the  Conservative  Rabbinical  Assembly  in 
1968.  This  measure  involves  an  ante-nuptial  agreement  (fenni  be- 
kiddushin)  which  makes  the  marriage  conditional  upon  certain 
defined  circumstances  (i.e..  the  husband  is  present,  Supports  bis 
wife,  etc.).  This  Solution,  like  the  ketubah  addendum,  suffers 
technical  halakhic  problems  and  is  no  help  to  women  who  marry 
in  the  usual  ceremony  without  these  special  precautions.^ 

Another  non-halakhic  approach  to  rosolving  problems  of  nginut 
has  been  to  appeal  to  civil  courts.  There  have  been  several  cases  in 
the  United  States  where  an  cigunah  petitioned  a  civil  court  to 
compel  her  husband  to  give  her  a  ge[,  arguing  that  the  ketubah  can 
be  viewed  by  a  civil  court  as  a  contractual  agreement  between 
husband  and  wife.  The  husband  who  abandons  bis  wife  and  di- 
vorces  her  by  civil  divorce  violates  bis  Obligation  to  preserve  the 
marriage  or  to  dissolve  it  "according  to  the  laws  of  Moses  and 
Israel. "'°  The  most  radical  stcp  in  this  direction  has  been  the 
recent  legislation  in  the  State  of  New  York  (passed  in  August  1983) 
which  States  that  no  civil  divorce  will  be  granted  unless  the  per- 
son  seeking  the  divorce  has  removed  all  barriers  to  bis  former 
partner's  remarriage.  This  "neutraP'  formulation  is  clearly  aimed 
at  the  Problem  of  the  agunah,  making  it  impossible  for  a  man  to 


get  a  civil  divorce  unless  he  gives  his  wife  a  gel,  releasing  her  and 
permitting  her  to  remarry.  This  new  legislation,  as  well  as  previ- 
ous  court  cases.  have  created  considerable  controversy  from  two 
opposite  sides  of  the  fence.  On  the  one  side  are  those  raising 
questions  about  the  validity  of  such  an  approach  from  the  point  of 
view  of  Halakhah,  questioning  both  the  courts'  Interpretation  of 
the  ketubah  as  well  as  the  validity  of  a  get  ordered  by  a  non-Jewish 
authority.  On  the  other  side  are  those  opposed  to  use  of  civil 
legislation  and  civil  courts  because  they  feel  that  sanctioning  a 
religious  ceremony  and  Halakhah  in  this  way  violates  the  Con- 
stitution.^^ The  fact  that  despite  the  controversy  the  New  York 
State  legislation  was  strongly  supported  by  both  the  Orthodox  and 
Conservative  leadership  points  above  all  to  the  gravity  of  the  prob- 
lem  and  the  inability  of  the  Jewish  Community  at  the  present  time 
to  solve  it  halakhically. 

The  most  far-reaching  Solution  to  aginut  ever  proposed  is  in 
effect  to  eliminate  kiddushin  altogether  and  resort  to  a  System  of 
cohabitation  (piJagshut).  Cohabitation,  somewhat  like  common- 
law  marriage,  institutes  family  life  just  like  marriage.  Since  ac- 
cording to  Halakhah  the  children  of  such  a  marriage  are  as  legiti- 
mate  as  those  of  a  proper  marriage,  and  their  rights  are  the  same. 
no  grave  problems  would  ensue.  The  woman  is  the  one  who  needs 
the  protection  of  proper  kiddushin  since  the  obligations  outlined 
in  the  ketubah  automatically  apply  to  the  husband  when  kiddu- 
shin is  effected.  But  this  problem  could  be  solved  by  a  contract  or 
agreement  that  would  State  the  woman's  rights.  This  Solution  of 
abolishing  kiddushin  actually  suffers  fewer  halakhic  problems 
and  complications  than  the  other  Solutions  which  have  been  pro- 
posed. However.  it  violates  the  fundamental  precept  of  marriage 
by  betrothal  "according  to  the  laws  of  Moses  and  Israel,**  so  it  is 
inconceivable  that  it  would  be  adopted. ^^ 

The  different  halakhic  Solutions  proposed  for  the  problem  of  the 
agunah  have  two  features  in  common:  first.  they  are  all  preemp- 
tive measures,  and  second,  they  have  all  been  rejected,  if  not 
ignored,  by  most  halakhic  authorities.  The  first  fact  indicates  that 
the  problem  of  the  agunah  could  at  best  be  prevented  by  measures 
taken  at  the  time  of  marriage.  Once  a  woman  has  become  an  agu- 


112 


WOMEN  AND  JEWISH  LAW 


nah  there  are  certain  circumstances  where  there  is  absolutely  no 
valid  halakhic  way  of  releasing  her  and  permitting  her  to  remarry. 
The  only  possible  remedy  for  such  circumstances  would  be  a 
revolutionary  change  in  the  Halakhah,  giving  women,  or  Jowisli 
Courts  the  power  to  divorce  a  man  without  his  consent.  Barring 
such  radical  change  in  the  Halakhah,  women  who  are  agunot  face 
two  options:  a  long,  tortuous  struggle  to  find  a  halakhic  authorily 
who  will,  after  all,  find  some  way  to  release  them  (usually  a  tech- 
nical  point  allowing  invalidation  of  the  original  betrothal),  or  I)y 
opting  out  of  the  observant  Jewish  Community,  thereby  sacrificing 
the  Halakhah  in  favor  of  personal  fulfillment  in  remarriage. 

Problems  of  agunot  will  continue  to  be  discussed,  and  hopo- 
fully  resolved,  on  a  case-by-case  basis.  Since  the  cases  of  agunot 
are  addressed  one  by  one  and  usually  out  of  the  public  eye,  it  is 
difficult  to  ascertain  what  the  dimensions  of  the  problem  actually 
are  today.  The  formal  position  of  the  Ministry  of  Religions  in 
Israel  has  been  that  "there  is  hardly  an  agunah  in  the  State  of 
Israel  today  who  has  not  been  released  in  accordance  with  the 
Halakhah"  (Z.  Warhaftig,  deputy  minister  of  religions,  Proceed- 
ings  of  the  Knesset  11  :  1550).  How  reliable  this  testimony  may  be 
is  unclear  since  it  is  in  the  interest  of  the  Ministry  of  Religions  to 
minimize  the  extent  of  the  problem.  The  few  cases  of  agunol  Ihat 
have  come  under  scrutiny  since  the  establishment  of  the  State 
have  caused  public  scandals  and  an  outcry  for  legal  steps  to  end 
the  tragedy  of  the  agunah,  including  demands  to  replace  the  rule 
of  Halakhah  with  civil  marriage.'^  In  other  Jewish  communitios 
there  is  no  Instrument  for  conducting  a  complete  and  systematic 
survey. 

Given  the  complexities  in  the  laws  regarding  the  release  of  the 
agunah  and  the  difficulties  we  have  mentioned  in  all  the  Solutions 
thus  far  proposed,  it  seems  that  the  only  way  the  problem  of  the 
agunah  can  be  eliminated  is  by  a  far-reaching,  radical  takanah. 
Such  a  takanah  would  probably  be  more  radical  than  the  takanot  of 
Rabbenu  Gershom  against  polygyny  and  divorce  without  the 
woman's  consent.  It  would  in  fact  have  to  rule  in  favor  of  some  form 
of  annulment  of  kiddushin  after  a  specified  period  of  absence  of  a 
husband  or  for  divorce  against  or  without  the  husband*s  consent. 


THE  AGUNAH  AND  THE  YEVAMAH 


113 


The  first  Option  would  make  the  power  of  kiddushm  conditional 
upon  the  husband's  presence  as  a  marital  partner;  the  second 
would  alter  the  male-centered  unilateral  nature  of  divorce.  Such 
radical  changes  in  the  Halakhah  seem  impossible  at  the  present 
time  since  the  internal  divisions  in  the  Orthodox  and  general  Jew- 
ish  World  prevent  the  kind  of  consensus  that  would  be  necessary  to 
legitimate  such  momentous  legislation.  Meanwhile  the  pnce  to  be 
paid  is  the  individual  tragedy  of  each  woman  who  becomes  an 
agunah. 

The  Yevamah 

The  yevamah  is  the  widow  of  a  man  who  died  childless  and 
was  survived  by  a  brother.  The  widow  is  bound  to  he  brother:  he 
Tust  eUher  marry  her  or  release  her  by  means  of  ha  itzah  or  by  h.s 
own  death.  If  the  surviving  brother.  the  yabam  (  ev.r)  neither 
marries  the  yevamah  nor  performs  the  ceremony  of  hahlzah.  she 

'^r  iro??eTrate  marriage  is  biblical.  It  is  stated  in  Deuteron- 
omy  and  is  also  reflected  in  two  narratives:  the  story  of  Judah  and 
Sar  (Genesis  38)  and  the  Book  of  Ruth.  The  story  of  Tamar 
illustrates  the  plight  of  the  yevamah:  first  she  loses  her  husband 
E  be  ore  bearing  a  child.  Onan.  her  brother-in-law.  »hen  marnes 
her  but  performs  "coitus  interruptus."  sp.llmg  bis  seed  on  the 
ground  because  he  knows  that  the  progeny  would  not  bear  h^ 
name  but  rather  the  name  of  his  deceased  brother.  As  Pun'shment 
for  his  act  God  kills  Onan.  Widowed  again  with  no  chiidren.  la- 
mar  must  now  wait  for  the  third  brother.  Shelah  to  grow  up  and 
perform  levirate  marriage.  With  the  passage  of  time  Judah   Ta- 
maras father-in-law.  apparently  forgels  her  and  fa.ls  to  marry  her 
to  his  son  Shelah.  In  desperation  Tamar  d.sguises  herseif  asa 
prostitute  and  presents  herseif  to  Judah  who.  unaware  of  her  .den- 
tity.  has  intercourse  with  her.  When  the  truth  of  her  idenUty 
romes  to  light   Judah  is  remorseful.  Though  Tamar  had  in  fact 
Tormit  °ecl  fncU.  Judah  states:  "She  is  in  the  ^^•^^:, 
This  comes  of  my  not  giving  her  to  my  son  Shelah  to  be  his  wife 

(Gen.  38  :  26). 


•tt'-.M^tnr^'W^^r-  • 


tt;l 


f\ 


!i 


f  r 


218 


WOMEN  AND  JEWISH  LAW 


Luria  seems  to  contradict  himself:  first  he  states  the  presumption 
that  a  woman  who  has  evil  sons  may  sterilize  herseif  in  ordor  not 
to  bring  more  children  of  that  kind  into  the  world.  Then  he  says 
that  only  suffering  in  birth  justifies  self-sterilization,  but  finally  he 
concludes  by  affirming  again  that  a  woman  may  sterilize  herseif 
lest  she  multiply  her  wicked  progeny.  It  seems  that  Luria  is  trying 
to  describe  a  woman  in  such  fear  of  bearing  more  wicked  children 
that  it  causes  her  tangible  suffering.  At  any  rate,  what  this  confus- 
ing  passage  does  show  is  that,  for  Luria,  the  use  of  contraception  is 
generally  open  to  all  women  who  have  their  own  compelling  roa- 
sons  for  wanting  to  avoid  bearing  more  children. 

Solomon  Luria's  position  is  the  most  permissive  position 
within  the  bounds  of  the  halakhic  discussion.  He  combines  Ra- 
shi's  '*permissive"  position  in  respect  to  method  of  contraception 
and  Rabbenu  Tam's  leniency  in  permitting  the  three  women  and 
all  others  to  use  a  contraceptive  device.  He  concludes  that  any 
woman  may  use  a  contraceptive  device  inserted  prior  to  Inter- 
course.  He  considers  as  reasonable  grounds  for  practicing  birth 
control  not  only  danger  or  extreme  pain  to  the  mother,  but  also 
concern  over  the  welfare  of  her  children,  both  physical  and  moral. 

Even  when  we  consider  the  most  permissive  position  of  Solo- 
mon Luria  we  must  balanco  it  with  the  value  of  procreation  in 
traditional  Jewish  society.  His  leniency  should  not  be  interprelod 
as  either  license  for  or  indication  of  widespread  use  of  contraccjp- 
tion.  Luria  undoubtedly  hold  procreation  as  a  personal  and  com- 
munal  goal  of  supreme  importance.  Rather,  his  permissive  view 
must  be  understood  as  the  most  extreme  manifestation  of  a  consci- 
entious  effort  in  the  Halakhah  to  provide  women  with  legitimate 
avenues  for  protecting  their  lives,  their  bodies,  and  their  existing 
families  when  continued  pregnancy  and  childbearing  was  a 
threat.  We  must  beer  in  mind  that  prior  to  the  development  of 
modern  medicine  pregnancy  and  childbirth  carried  a  significant 
hazard.  The  fear  of  death  in  childbirth  was  by  no  means  far- 
fetched,  nor  the  concern  about  the  nutrition  and  welfare  of  a  nurs- 
ing infant  a  rare  problem.  Thus  the  controversy  over  contracep- 
tion in  the  Halakhah  must  be  seen  as  a  balancing  act  between  the 
primacy  of  procreation  and  the  very  real  hazards  of  childbirth. 


E'ifl^^^H 

^^^^v 

^^H'*' 

i^^H 

^^HB<^ 

Tt'^^^^^^l 

^^^^^Bb'' 

'-'^^M^H 

^^^H»'?;' 

^^B-r 

ii^^^H 

HE^'''! 

ABORTION 


Elective  abortion  has  been  a  highly  controversial  issue  in  the  last 
decades.  The  contemporary  debate  revolves  around  the  question 
of  whether  a  woman  has  the  moral  and/or  legal  right  to  choose  to 
abort  the  fetus  she  carries.  In  Jewish  law  the  question  of  purpose- 
fully  induced  abortion  first  arises  in  the  Mishnah:  May  a  fetus  be 
destroyed  by  the  mother  or  her  agent  (a  physician)?  The  issue  of 
abortion  in  the  Halakhah  remains  a  hotly  debated  one  today.^ 
There  is  a  consensus  that  the  Halakhah  permits  an  abortion  when 
it  is  necessary  in  order  to  save  the  mother's  life.  The  grounds  of 
contention  are  the  possible  other  reasons  for  inducing  an  abortion: 
preventing  the  birth  of  an  illegitimate  child,  an  unwanted  child. 
or  a  severely  handicapped  child. 

The  biblical  sources  for  the  discussion  of  abortion  in  the  Hala- 
khah do  not  address  the  issue  of  elective  abortion.  The  Bible  only 
refers  to  accidental  abortion,  yet  this  reference  lays  the  foundation 
of  the  halakhic  discussion. 


"When  men  fight,  and 
miscarriage  results,  but 
shall  be  fined  according 
payment  to  be  based  on 
penalty  shall  be  life  for 
foot  for  foot,  "burn  for 
21  :  22-25] 


one  of  them  pushes  a  pregnant  woman  and  a 
no  other  misfortune  ensues,  the  one  responsible 
as  the  woman's  husband  may  exact  from  him.  the 

reckoning.  ^^But  if  other  misfortune  ensues,  the 
life,  ^""eye  for  eye,  tooth  for  tooth,  band  for  band, 
burn,  wound  for  wound,  bruise  for  bruise.  [Ex. 


The  case  in  Exodus  is  of  an  accidental  abortion  caused  by  a  man's 
striking  a  pregnant  woman  in  the  course  of  a  fight  with  her  hus- 
band. The  fetus  is  expelled  from  the  womb  and  is  lost.  If  the 
woman  herseif  suffers  no  barm,  the  man  who  Struck  her  and 


219 


220 


WOMEN  AND  JEWISH  LAW 


caused  the  miscarriage  is  fined.  The  husband  sets  tho  amount  of 
the  fine,  since  the  loss  of  the  fotus  is  deemed  his  loss,  and  the  fine 
is  paid  under  supervision  of  the  judges.  If,  on  the  other  hand, 
there  is  '*misfortune,"  if,  say,  the  woman  loses  her  hfe  as  a  resiilt 
of  the  miscarriage,  the  case  becomes  a  capital  crime  and  the  al- 
tacker  pays  with  his  own  life. 

There  is  a  clear  distinction  in  this  ruHng  between  the  woman 
and  her  child:  the  woman  is  a  Hving  person,  a  ne/esh,  and  anyono 
who  harms  her  body  or  kills  her  must  pay  in  kind.  The  fetus  is  not 
a  person  in  this  sense.  Destroying  it  through  causing  an  abortion  is 
not  a  capital  crime  and  carries  no  capital  punishment.  Rather  it  is 
a  crime  of  causing  loss  and  destruction,  analogous  to  properly 
damage.  The  damage  is  inflicted  on  the  husband,  not  on  the  preg- 
nant  woman,  since  he  loses  his  progeny.  Why  is  it  the  husband 
who  suffers  the  loss  of  progeny  and  not  the  woman?  Because  in 
biblical  law,  while  the  woman  herseif  is  not  quite  the  property  of 
her  husband  since  she  is  a  person  and  not  an  object  (harming  her 
is  a  capital  crime  and  not  a  crime  against  property),  any  of  her 
products,  whether  through  work  or  pregnancy,  are  the  property  of 
her  husband.  The  text  in  Exodus  21  indicates  that  in  biblical  law  a 
fetus  has  the  Status  of  an  object,  not  of  a  person.  This  fundamental 
principle  informs  the  discussion  of  abortion  in  Jewish  law  even 
when  the  abortion  is  intentional  and  not  accidental. 

In  Christianity  there  is  a  tolally  different  development  based  on 
the  same  source,  Exodus  21  :  22.  This  development  hinges  on  a 
different  translation  of  the  phrase  '^but  no  other  misfortune 
ensues"  than  the  one  used  here,  which  is  based  on  the  traditional 
Torah  text.  The  Septuagint  translates  the  word  ason  C'misfor- 
tune,"  ''disaster")  to  mean  "form,"  and  applies  it  to  the  fetus 
rather  than  to  the  mother.  Subsequently  the  text  was  understood 
as  making  a  distinction  between  a  fetus  that  has  no  form  and  a 
fetus  with  a  form.  The  Church  Fathers  ruled  that  a  fetus  is  form- 
less  until  the  fortieth  day  and  becomes  formed  thereafter.  Thus 
killing  an  unformed  fetus  was  not  a  capital  crime  but  aborting  a 
formed  fetus  was.  Even  that  distinction  was  abolished  in  later 
Christianity  because  the  soul  was  believed  to  enter  the  fetus  at  the 
moment  of  conception,  and  thus  aborting  a  fetus  even  prior  to  the 


K 

H^ 

^^1 

^^^HjLiK 

"i^^^H 

^HSJh 

^^^H 

^^HRfcrt 

^^^^^1 

'■^^^^^^1 

^^Bb^ 

m 

ABORTION 


221 


fortieth  day  meant  dooming  that  soul  to  hell  since  it  could  not 
gain  its  salvation  by  baptism.  Beginning  with  the  same  biblical 
source  the  Catholic  church  developed  an  absolute  prohibition  on 
abortion,  while  Jewish  law  found  room  to  permit  it.^ 

The  circumstances  when  abortion  is  permitted  are  subject  to 
much  halakhic  discussion.  In  the  Talmud  we  find  permission  for 
abortion  in  order  to  save  the  life  of  the  mother.  The  underlying 
lustification  for  this  ruling  is  that  the  fetus  is  not  a  living  person 
and  has  no  independent  Status.  The  fetus  is  considered  a  part  of 
its  mothefä  tcc~.  uccr  vcz^kh  \=.=^.  "^i  f=tds  is  its  matter- s 


Üü^-  v'rr.'r-  z 


■y   •» 


-  - 


.». 


'-.v>  :iii  le^ü  ri^üis  ivicn 


toward  indcpendeivi  Uie,  iLai  ii,  wten  ihc  cirji  prooess  ^^^-  ^'  ^ 
still  not  a  ne/esh  (living  person).  and  it  may  be  destroyed  to  save 

its  mother: 

If  a  woman  is  having  difficulty  giving  birth.  one  cuts  up  the  fetus  within 
her  and  takes  it  out  limb  by  limb.  because  her  life  takes  precedence  over 
its  life.  Once  its  greater  part  has  emerged.  you  do  not  toucii  it.  because 
you  may  not  set  aside  one  life  for  another.  [Oholot  7  :  6] 

This  passage  in  Oholot  (Oholot  is  a  tractate  in  the  Mishnah  for 
which  there  is  no  talmudic  commentary)  is  the  cornerstone  of  the 
halakhic  discussion  of  therapeutic  abortion,  that  is.  abortion  per- 
formed  to  save  the  life  of  the  mother  and  preserve  her  health.  As 
long  as  the  fetus  has  not  emerged.  which  according  to  this  text 
happens  when  "most  of  its  body  has  come  out."  and  according  to 
a  variant  cited  in  Sanhedrin  72b  "when  its  head  has  come  out  it 
is  not  a  person  and  therefore  its  life  is  inferior  to  its  mother's  life. 
Once  the  fetus  has  emerged  it  has  the  same  Status  as  the  mother 
and  then.  even  if  it  threatens  the  mother's  life.  it  may  not  be 
touched.  This  is  because  the  fundamental  principle  of  capital  law 
in  the  Halakhah  is  that  one  may  not  set  one  life  over  another 
because  "you  do  not  know  that  your  blood  is  redder  than  his 

(Sanhedrin  45b).  . 

Since  the  text  in  Oholot  explicitly  refers  to  the  principle  that 
"one  may  not  put  aside  one  life  for  another."  it  seems  absolutely 


« 


< 


222 


WOMEN  AND  JEWISH  LAW 


clear  that  the  reason  one  inay  dismember  a  fetus  in  the  birth 
process  to  save  the  mother  is  that  it  does  not  yet  have  such  "Hfo." 
Such  indeed  is  Rashi's  explanation:  "For  as  long  as  it  has  not  yet 
emerged  into  the  world,  it  is  not  a  nefesh  [living  person]  and  one 
may  kill  it  to  save  its  mother"  (Rashi  on  Sanhedrin  72b).  By  extcn- 
sion  of  the  same  principle,  if  the  fetus  threatens  the  lifo  of  the 
mother  prior  to  the  beginning  of  birth,  for  example,  in  the  case  of 
severe  hemorrhaging  or  toxemia.  its  life  should  be  set  aside  to  save 
the  life  of  the  mother. 

Most  cases  of  threat  to  the  mother's  life  occur  during  the  birth 
process  itself,  as  described  in  Oholot.  The  Talmud  rules  that  he- 
cause  the  fetus  is  not  a  ne/esh  it  may  be  aborted  to  save  the 
mother's  life  so  long  as  it  has  not  emerged  sufficiently  to  acquire 
its  own  life.  In  another  conlext  the  Talmud  rules  that  a  newborn  is 
not  actually  considered  viable  (bar  kayma]  until  it  has  lived  for 
thirty  days  (Niddah  44b).  Could  we  perhaps  say  that  evcn  a  new- 
born Infant  is  not  a  full-fledged  life  and  may  be  set  aside  to  protoct 
its  mother's  life?  No,  because  even  though  the  newborn's  future 
life  is  still  in  question,  the  life  it  possesses  now  has  the  same 
worth  as  the  life  of  a  viable  porson. 

Ben  Zion  Uziel,  v^ho  u^as  chief  rabbi  of  Israel  in  the  195()s, 
explained  this  principle  in  bis  ruling  on  abortion: 

• 

Because  when  a  child  dies  within  thirty  days  (being  then  considered  a 
Stillborn  and  not  mourned  like  a  person  who  had  died)  it  becomes  evi- 
dent only  in  retrospect  that  it  was  stiliborn  [ne/eJ]  and  that  the  period  of 
its  life  was  only  a  continuation  of  the  vitality  of  its  mother  that  remained 
in  him.  But  if  one  should  kill  it  within  the  thirty  days  because  its  life  is 
only  a  continuation  of  the  mother's  vitality.  since  there  is  no  way  of 
ascertaining  whether  it  indeod  was  a  stiliborn  or  not,  that  is  not  a  crime 
for  which  one  is  executed,  because  of  the  doubt.  Nevertheless  it  is  cer- 
tainly  prohibited  to  kill  it,  because  of  that  doubt.  [Ben  Zion  Uziel.  Mish- 
petei  L/ziei,  Hoshen  Mishpat  3  :  46] 

Uziel  explains  that  it  is  only  in  retrospect,  when  a  newborn  dies 
before  it  reaches  its  thirtieth  day,  that  one  realizes  that  it  was  in 
fact  a  Stillborn.  You  cannot  justify  killing  a  newborn  by  the  argu- 
ment  that  it  might  have  died  within  the  first  thirty  days  anyway. 


ABORTION 


223 


But  Uziel  rules  in  an  unusually  lenient  manner  that  a  person  who 
kills  a  child  within  thirty  days  of  its  birth  is  not  liable  for  a  capital 
crime  because  of  the  questionable  life  of  the  child.  He  uses  this 
conclusion  to  justify  therapeutic  abortion.  His  ruling  is  actually  of 
greater  significance  to  another  problem  which,  to  the  best  of  my 
knowledge,  has  not  yet  been  formally  addressed  in  the  halakhic 
literature:  the  problem  of  discontinuation  of  life-support  mechan- 
isms  for  a  premature  or  severely  damaged  newborn  baby  who 
cannot  live  independently.^ 

In  addition  to  permitting  an  abortion  to  save  the  life  of  a  woman 
having  great  difficulty  in  childbirth  (clearly,  life-threatening  diffi- 
culty  and  not  the  natural  pain  of  the  birth  process),  the  Talmud 
permits,  even  Orders,  an  abortion  in  another  Situation:  when  a 
pregnant  woman  is  sentenced  to  execution.  As  we  shall  see,  this 
rather  peculiar  ruling  serves  as  the  basis  for  those  halakhists  who 
wish  to  be  lenient  and  permit  abortion  in  other  than  life-threaten- 
ing circumstances.  The  passage  in  Arakhin  which  contains  the 
discussion  of  abortion  in  a  woman  doomed  to  execution  must  be 
understood  as  a  theoretical  analysis  of  principles,  not  as  a  reflec- 
tion  of  practice,  since  it  is  evident  that  in  talmudic  times,  capital 
punishment  was  generally  not  carried  out. 

Mishnah:  If  a  woman  is  about  to  be  executed,  one  does  not  wait  for  her 
until  she  gives  birth;  but  if  she  had  already  sat  on  the  birthstool  [yashvah 
al  ha-mashber]  one  waits  for  her  until  she  gives  birth.  . .  . 

Gemara:  But  that  is  self-evident,  for  it  is  her  body!  It  is  necessary  to 
teach  it,  for  one  might  have  assumed  since  Scripture  says  "according  as 
the  woman's  husband  shall  lay  upon  him"  that  it  [the  woman's  child]  is 
the  husband's  property,  of  which  he  should  not  be  deprived.  Therefore, 
we  are  informed  [that  it  is  not  so].  .  .  . 

"But  if  she  had  already  sat  on  the  birthstool":  What  is  the  reason?  As 
soon  as  it  moves  [from  its  place  in  the  womb]  it  is  another  body  (gu/a 
ahavina].  Rav  Judah  said  in  the  name  of  Samuel:  If  a  woman  is  about  to  be 
executed  one  strikes  her  against  her  womb  so  that  the  child  may  die  first, 
to  avoid  her  being  disgraced.  That  means  to  say  that  [otherwise]  she  dies 
first?  But  we  have  an  established  principle  that  the  child  dies  first.  . . . 
This  applies  only  to  [her  natural]  death  because  the  child's  life  is  very 
frail.  The  drop  [of  poison]  from  the  angel  of  death  enters  and  destroys  its 
vital  Organs,  but  in  the  case  of  death  by  execution  she  dies  first.  .  .  . 
[Arakhin  7a-b] 


224 


WOMEN  AND  JEWISH  LAW 


ABORTION 


225 


Let  US  first  summarize  this  rather  complex  passage  in  Arakhin. 
The  Mishnah  begins  with  a  ruling  in  the  context  of  laws  pertain- 
ing  to  the  benefits  which  the  living  may  derive  from  the  dead 
(persons  and  animals).  The  ruling  is  that  a  pregnant  woman  sen- 
tenced  to  execution  is  killed  immediately  unless  the  birth  process 
has  aheady  started.  In  otlicr  words,  one  does  not  wait  for  the 
pregnancy  to  be  completed  and  the  child  to  be  born,  but  destroys 
both  the  mother  and  the  embryo  she  carries.  The  Gemara  opens 
with  a  question:  Is  it  not  self-evident  that  one  does  not  wait  for  the 
fetus  to  mature  and  be  born  since  we  know  that  the  fetus  is  con- 
sidered  a  mere  part  of  its  mother's  body?  The  answer  is  that  it  is 
not  self-evident  since  one  might  have  concluded  from  Exodus  21 
where  the  fetus  is  the  property  of  its  father  that  the  father  may  not 
be  deprived  of  bis  property  because  bis  wife  has  transgressed  and 
is  to  be  executed.  Therefore,  explains  the  Gemara,  an  exphcit 
ruling  is  necessary.  The  only  exception  to  the  rule  is  when  the 
fetus  has  already  begun  its  descent  into  the  birth  canal  (when  the 
mother  has  **sat  on  the  birthstool").  However,  this  exception  has 
nothing  to  do  with  the  fathcr's  property  rights,  but  rather  with  the 
fact  that  at  this  point  the  fetus  has  become  "a  separate  body" 
(notice,  not  yet  an  independent  life!)  and  is  no  longer  part  of  its 
mother's  body. 

Following  the  general  explication  of  the  passage  the  Gemara 
enters  a  rather  grisly  discussion  of  the  details  of  the  fetus's  fate  in 
the  execution.  According  to  Samuel  the  fetus  is  not  merely  a  pas- 
sive part  of  the  woman's  body  in  the  execution,  but  rather  one 
purposely  attempts  to  kill  it.  I  lis  reasoning  is  that  the  woman  not 
be  disgraced  in  the  execution.  How  might  she  be  disgraced?  Rashi 
explains  that  the  trauma  of  tho  execution  could  cause  the  onset  of 
labor  and  a  stillbirth  in  the  midst  of  the  execution.  To  prevent  this 
the  fetus  is  killed  first.  The  rabbis  question  this  reasoning  not  on 
moral-religious  grounds  but  on  the  basis  of  their  physiological 
knowledge.  Do  we  not  know  that  when  a  pregnant  woman  dies 
her  fetus  always  dies  first  because  the  cause  of  her  death  ("tho 
drop  from  the  angel  of  death")  entcrs  the  womb  first  and  destroys 
the  fetus?  The  answer  is  that  this  principle  holds  in  the  case  of 
natural  death  from  disease,  but  not  in  the  case  of  sudden  death  by 


execution.  SamueVs  principle  thus  remains:  one  kills  the  fetus 
first  to  avoid  the  mother's  disgrace  at  her  last  moments  of  life. 

The  passage  in  Arakhin  seems  a  rather  bizarre  mixture  of  cruelty 
and  compassion.  On  the  one  band  we  have  a  seemingly  heartless, 
technical  discussion  of  the  execution  of  a  pregnant  woman  and  the 
destruction  of  her  fetus.  It  seems  extremely  cruel  to  the  woman  who 
cannot  give  birth  to  her  child  and  to  the  fetus  which  is  not  given  a 
Chance  to  be  born  and  live  its  own  life.  On  the  other  band  the 
consideration  behind  this  is  in  fact  a  compassion  and  concern  for 
the  woman  who  has  been  doomed.  The  Gemara  does  not  explicate 
these  considerations  but  they  are  explained  by  the  commentary  of 
the  Tosafot.  It  would  be  cruel  to  the  woman  if  she  were  not  exe- 
cuted immediately  in  order  to  wait  for  the  birth  of  the  child,  explain 
the  Tosafot,  because  a  delay  between  sentencing  and  execution  is  a 
form  of  torture,  innui  ha-din.  Innui  ha-din,  delay  in  carrying  out 
the  sentence,  is  prohibited  in  Jewish  law  because  it  adds  unwar- 
ranted  anguish  to  the  punishment.  A  person  sentenced  to  execu- 
tion should  not  be  tormented  psychologically  by  having  to  await 
and  anticipate  his  end.  Therefore  a  pregnant  woman  is  executed 
immediately  rather  than  being  made  to  wait  in  anguish  until  the 
pregnancy  comes  to  its  term.  This,  the  Tosafot  clarify,  only  holds 
when  the  sentence  has  already  been  pronounced.  If  the  woman  is 
known  to  be  pregnant  before  the  trial  or  the  determination  of  the 
sentence,  the  sentencing  itself  is  postponed  until  after  the  birth.  In 
such  a  case,  waiting  is  not  innui  ha-din  because  the  woman  can 
hope  for  acquittal  or  a  lesser  punishment. 

The  practical  importance  of  the  ruling  in  Arakhin  is  not  of 
course  for  cases  of  execution,  but  for  other  cases  where  the  mother 
is  in  great  distress  due  to  the  pregnancy.  It  is  possible  to  deduce 
from  Arakhin  a  general  principle  that  a  fetus  may  be  aborted  to 
avoid  mental  anguish  (any  condition  analogous  to  innui  ha-din) 
or  disgrace  to  the  mother.  Only  a  few  halakhists  choose  to  pursue 
this  logic.  The  most  permissive  among  them  is  Jacob  Emden: 

You  asked  if  it  is  prohibited  to  destroy  a  fetus  in  the  womb  of  a  mother 
who  is  known  to  have  been  whoring,  whether  a  Single  woman  or  a  mar- 
ried  woman. 


M 


226 


WOMEN  AND  JEWISH  LAW 


I  found  the  responsum  in  the  book  Havai  Yair  where  the  rabbi  |Yair 

Bachrach]  was  asked  about  it And  this  \s  bis  answer:  .  .  .  Tbere  is  no 

difference  between  her  being  Single  and  available,  and  the  fetus  being  a 

mamzer  [bastard]  from  a  married  woman And  I,  most  junior  among 

my  peers,  say  that  in  my  humble  opinion  there  is  a  big  difference  in  this 
matter  .  .  .  between  [a  married  woman  who  commited  adultery)  and  a 
Single  woman,  or,  certainly,  a  married  woman  who  is  pregnant  from  her 
husband.  . .  .  Indeed,  the  one  asking  the  question  asked  about  a  married 
woman  who  had  whored  and  it  is  a  very  good  question.  and  I.  accordmg 
to  my  Views,  would  lean  toward  permitting  her  (to  abort]  if  1  were  worthy 
of  giving  a  ruling.  For,  it  seems  to  me  that  there  is  room  to  be  lenient  since 
she  had  committed  adultery  and  "the  blood  is  on  her  hands."  From  now 
on  she  is  doomed  to  execution  according  to  the  law  of  the  Torah.  Even 
though  her  life  is  not  given  into  our  hands  to  end,  nevertheless  sho  is 
condemned  to  death  by  the  judgment  of  Heaven  .  .  .  and  if  her  sentence 
were  in  our  hands  we  would  have  executed  her  and  the  fruit  of  her  womb, 
just  as  it  is  in  Arakhin  where  you  do  not  wait  for  her  (to  give  birth).  And 
this  case  is  even  stronger  since  there  [Arakhin]  it  is  in  reference  even  to  a 
legitimate  fetus  and  here  it  is  a  fetus  conceived  through  transgressiön  Ihat 
is  also  condemned  to  death.  i   n    i 

It  is  evident  that  you  do  not  worry  about  it  [the  fetus]  and  it  is  killed 
through  [the  execution  of]  ils  mother.  Therefore.it  seems  to  me  simple 
that  there  is  also  no  prohibition  against  destroying  it.  .  .  . 

And  even  with  a  legitimate  fetus,  there  is  reason  to  be  lenient  for  the 

sake  of  a  great  need  as  long  as  it  had  not  yet  moved  even  if  it  is  not  a  case 

of  threat  to  the  mother's  life,  but  to  save  her  from  it  because  it  causes  her 

pain.  And  the  matter  needs  further  deliberation. 

Nevertheless,  it  is  evident  that  there  is  still  a  prohibition  o  priori  on 

destroying  the  fetus clearly  it  is  not  forbidden  when  it  is  done  be- 

cause  of  a  [great]  need.  . .  .  Therefore,  our  ruling  is:  if  there  is  no  reason 
[that  is,  in  case  of  legitimate  fruit]  it  is  forbidden  to  destroy  the  fetus.  But 
in  the  case  before  us  of  a  married  woman  who  went  astray,  I  have  pro- 
nounced  my  lenient  opinion  that  it  is  permitted  [to  abort],  and  perhaps  it 

even  almost  has  the  reward  of  a  mitzvah [Jacob  Emden,  Responsa 

She'elatYa'avetz.No.  43] 

The  case  discussed  by  Emden  was  first  brought  to  another  au- 
thority.  Yair  Bachrach  (1638-1702.  Germany).  who  ruled  on  it  in 
bis  responsum  (no.  31)  in  Havai  Yair.  It  involved  a  married 
woman  who  conceived  in  adultery.  Afterward  "she  repented  and 
cried  out  all  day  and  all  night  without  rest  to  her  teary  eyes,  which 
flowed  tears  like  a  river,  and  she  Struck  her  head  against  the  wall 
tili  it  bled"  and  she  asked  her  husband  and  the  rabbi  to  allow  her 


ABORTION 


227 


to  repent.  She  suspected  that  she  was  P-Bnant  because  her  me^^^ 
struation  ceased,  and  so  she  went  to  the  rabb.  to  ^sk  it  she  may 
••drTnk  from  the  potion  which  will  expel  the  cursed  seed  The 
auILor  o^Hovot  ^oir  first  rules  that  the  Halakhah  ^sno^^l^^^ 

for  a  mamzer  (bastard)  than  for  a  l-g'»''"«^«.  ^^".»^Ifj;^^^^'^^^^^^^^^^ 
areues  on  the  basis  of  talmudic  reasonmg  that    there  is  total  per 
mfsson  ?or  what  you  have  asked  [performing  an  abort.onl  accord- 
J^o  o  thelaw  of  the  Torah.  were  it  not  for  the  custom  held  among 
u?and  among  them  [non-Jews]  to  prevent  b-^^^^;^»;^  ^^^^^^^ 
aeainst  Prostitution  and  those  whoring  after  promiscuity.     in 
oSer  words.  Bachrach  holds  that  from  a  «trictly  legal  pomof 
V  ew  the  woman  in  question  may  drink  a  potion  tha  will  induce 
View  the  woman       q  because  of  the  prevail- 

nUBut  in  the  end  he  reverses  his  lenient  position.  Emden  takes 
issue  wi  h  Bach^ach's  claim  that  there  is  no  difference  between  a 
erimate  child  and  a  bastard.  He  argues  that  a  woman  who  con- 
1S  in  adulterv  would  be  sentenced  to  death  according  to 
T  rl  llw  and  she  Td  her  fetus  would  be  killed.  Therefore  the 
Lrsl'^rauTcontmned  to  death  by  the  >-  and  the  mothe^^^^^^^^ 
then  kill  it  "and  we  do  not  worry  about  h.s  1'^«-  J«!^^«"^^^^^^^^^ 
ment  seems  logical  enough.  but  suffers  a  ma)or  flaw  The  fact  that 
Te  fetus  would  die  with  the  mother  if  she  were  to  be  executed  by 
a  coult  do^s  not  mean  that  anyone  eise,  including  the  mother.  may 
mtlm,  with  this  argument  in  addition  to  th   s      ^    ^  «^^^^ 
Emden  feels  there  is  enough  reason  to  rule  that   there  is  no  proni 
bition  against  destroying  it."  jff„,o  „rith  Rarhrach 


228 


WOMEN  AND  JEWISH  LAW 


before  the  fetus  begins  to  move  on  its  way  out  of  the  womb.  Wliat 
is  such  "great  need"?  Emden  does  not  clarify  it  beyond  referring 
to  the  pain  caused  to  the  mother.  Clearly  this  could  not  be  tho 
natural  pain  of  birth.  On  the  other  band  it  is  evidently  not  a  throat 
to  life,  but  a  lesser  hazard.  Perhaps  Emden  does  not  expHcitly 
define  "great  need"  on  purpose,  for  this  vagueness  makes  bis 
ruling  flexible.  Through  this  general  term  he  allows  abortion  for 
reasons  of  suffering.  not  only  threat  of  death,  and  leaves  the  deter- 
mination  of  what  constitutes  "great  need"  to  each  rabbi  in  evcry 
specific  circumstance.  One  set  of  circumstances  may  cause  pain 
and  great  need  to  one  woman  but  not  to  others,  and  furnish 
grounds  for  permitting  her  to  abort  where  others  would  continue 
the  pregnancy  to  term."* 

As  opposed  to  the  talmudic  rulings  permitting  abortion  in  order 
to  save  the  mother's  life  and  preserve  her  from  anguish  and  dis- 
grace,  there  are  several  passages  in  the  Talmud  which  topd  to 
prohibit  abortion.  The  clcarcst  of  such  Statements  is  Rabbi  Yisli- 
mael's: 

Rabbi  Yishmael  says:  "He  who  spiljs  the  blood  of  man,  in  [by|  man  shall 
his  blood  be  spilled."  What  is  ''man  in  man"?  This  is  the  fetus.  [Sanhe- 
drin  57bl 

YishmaePs  Statement  is  an  interpretation  of  the  passage  in  Gene- 
sis 9  in  which,  following  the  Flood,  the  sons  of  Noah  are  given  a 
set  of  universal  laws.  One  of  these  laws  pertains  to  capital  crimes 
and  rules  that  whoever  commits  murder  shall  be  killed  by  his 
fellowmen:  "He  who  spills  man's  blood  by  man  shall  his  blood  be 
spilled."  The  Hebrew  is  ambiguous  since  the  letter  bet  can  mean 
either  "by"  or  "in."  Yishmael  interprets  the  bet  not  to  mean  "by 
man"  but  "in  man."  He  th(3refore  reads  the  verse  in  Genesis 
(against  its  piain  meaning):  "He  who  spills  the  blood  of  a  'man  in  a 
man'  shall  be  killed."  The  "man  in  a  man"  he  understands  to  be  a 
fetus. 

The  laws  given  to  the  sons  of  Noah  are  regarded  by  the  rabbis  as 
universal  moral  laws  governing  the  gentiles  [Bnei  Noah).  Accord- 
ing  to  Yishmael,  killing  a  fetus  is  prohibited  to  the  gentiles  and 


ABORTION 


229 


considered  a  capital  crime.  Yet,  as  Rashi  explains  in  his  commen- 
tary  to  Yishmael's  Statement.  "If  [a  gentile)  strikes  a  woman  and 
her  child  is  expelled,  he  is  executed  for  this,  and  among  Israel  he 
is  not  until  [the  fetus]  emerges  into  the  world."  The  notion  that 
abortion  is  a  capital  crime  for  gentiles  but  not  for  Jews  was  proble- 
matic  since  the  Halakhah  typically  assumes  that  the  laws  of  Bnei 
Noah  are  encompassed  within  the  laws  of  the  Jews  which  are 
much  stricter  and  more  numerous.  The  Tosafot  solve  this  problem 
by  arguing  that  abortion  is  a  transgression  for  both  Jews  and  gen- 
tiles. For  a  gentile,  killing  a  fetus  is  a  capital  crime  and  for  a  Jew  it 
is  not.  For  a  Jew  it  is  a  transgression  of  the  category  asur  aval 
patur  (prohibited  but  not  punishable).  Despite  this  formal  distinc- 
tion,  as  a  rule  gentile  and  Jew  are  both  prohibited  from  killing  a 
fetus  but  are  permitted  to  do  so  in  order  to  save  the  life  of  the 
mother.  White  the  prohibition  of  abortion  to  Bnei  Noah  does  not 
interfere  with  the  permission  to  abort  a  fetus  in  order  to  save  its 
mother,  it  does  express  very  forcefuUy  the  fundamental  Opposi- 
tion to  abortion. 

The  view  of  abortion  in  the  Talmud  is  therefore  two-sided.  On 
the  one  band,  the  fetus  is  not  considered  a  person  and  thus  may  be 
set  aside  to  save  the  mother's  life  and  preserve  her  from  disgrace. 
On  the  other  band  the  fetus  is  a  potential  person  and  thus  killing  it 
is  similar  to  murder.  In  fact  the  universal  laws  for  non-Jews  equate 
abortion  with  murder.  The  laws  of  the  Jews  do  not  rule  out  abor- 
tion as  murder,  but  do  include  the  fetus  in  the  same  category  with 
all  living  persons  who  should  be  saved  at  all  costs,  even  if  one  has 
to  violate  the  law  to  do  so  (Arakhin  7b). 

Despite  the  complexity  of  the  talmudic  view  of  abortion,  it 
would  have  been  reasonably  simple  for  subsequent  halakhists  if 
they  could  rely  on  the  Talmud  alone  in  rendering  judgments  on 
abortion.  There  would  be  no  question  about  allowing  abortion  to 
save  the  mother's  life,  and  there  would  be  a  natural  spectrum  of 
opinions  about  what  circumstances  constitute  the  same  suffering 
as  innui  ha-din  or  the  disgrace  of  a  woman  about  to  be  executed. 

However,  a  ruling  in  Maimonides'  Mishneh  Torah  confuses  and 
complicates  the  issue  for  all  halakhists  writing  from  the  twelfth 
Century  onward: 


230 


WOMEN  AND  JEWISH  LAW 


This,  too,  is  a  mitzvah:  not  to  take  pity  on  the  life  of  a  pursuer  [lodel], 
Therefore  the  Sages  have  ruled  that  when  a  woman  has  difficulty  in 
giving  birth  one  may  cut  up  the  child  within  her  womb,  either  by  drugs  or 
by  surgery,  because  he  is  like  a  pursuer  seeking  to  kill  her.  Once  his  hend 
has  emerged  he  may  not  be  touched  for  we  do  not  set  aside  one  life  for 
another;  this  is  the  natural  course  of  the  world.  [Maimonides,  Mishnah 
Torah,  Hilkhot  Rotze'ah  U-Shmirat  Nefesh  1:9)^ 

Maimonides  cites  the  ruüng  of  Oholot  Chapter  7  which  allows 
dismembering  a  fetus  in  order  to  save  the  mother's  life,  but  he 
brings  a  totally  different  justification  for  it.  Whereas  in  Oholot, 
and  in  Rashi  as  well,  the  justification  is  that  the  fetus  is  not  a 
nefesh,  in  Maimonides  the  reason  is  that  the  fetus  is  like  a  pur- 
suer. The  Halakhah  permits  anyone  who  sees  a  person  pursuing 
another  in  order  to  kill  him  (indicated  by  a  weapon  in  his  band, 
etc.)  to  kill  the  pursuer  in  order  to  save  the  victim.  The  normal 
rules  pertaining  to  manslaughter  are  suspended:  one  may  kill  the 
pursuer  without  warningand  due  process.  Furthermore,  Maimon- 
ides States  that  it  is  prohibited  to  take  pity  on  the  pursuer  and 
refrain  from  killing  him.  He  must  be  killed  in  order  to  save  the 
victim.  This  lav^  is  Maimonides'  justification  for  killing  a  fetus 
when  the  birth  threatens  the  mother's  life. 

The  apparent  implication  of  Maimonides'  ruling  is  that  it  is 
only  because  the  fetus  is  a  pursuer  that  one  may  kill  it,  and  not 
because  the  fetus  is  not  a  nefesh  and  thus  its  life  inferior  to  the  life 
of  the  mother.  This  contradicts  the  discussion  in  Sanhedrin  72b 
where  the  question  of  the  fetus  as  a  pursuer  is  considered.  In  the 
passage  in  Sanhedrin  it  is  suggested  that  the  fetus  be  considered  a 
pursuer  but  this  Suggestion  is  then  rejected.  The  reason  is  that  the 
threat  which  the  fetus  poses  to  the  mother  is  part  of  nature,  unlike 
murder.  Therefore  abortion  is  permitted  because  the  fetus  is  not  a 
nefesh,  not  because  it  "pursues"  its  mother.  Yet  Maimonides  puts 
forth  the  "pursuer"  argument  and  thus  implies  that  no  other  cir- 
cumstances  besides  threat  to  the  mother's  life  Warrants  abortion, 
making  it  difficult  to  undcrstand  and  justify  the  rulings  of  Ara- 
khin  7a-b,  Sanhedrin  72b,  and  Rashi. 

The  contradiction  between  Maimonides'  view  and  the  talmudic 
sources  poses  difficulties  for  those  writing  after  him,  and  indeed 


ABORTION 


231 


much  of  the  halakhic  discussion  focuses  on  the  problem  of  the 
fetus  as  a  pursuer.'  Furthermore  there  are  problems  in  the  logic 
behind  Maimonides'  ruling,  for  it  seems  flawed  in  and  of  itself. 
Yehezkel  Landau  (eighteenth  Century,  Prague).  for  example,  in  a 
responsum  on  abortion,  raises  some  of  the  inherent  logical  prob- 
lems in  Maimonides'  pursuer  argument: 

And  the  difficulty  in  the  ruling  of  Maimonides  is  that  he  considers  the 
fetus  before  its  head  emerges  to  be  a  pursuer,  and  after  its  head  emerges 
he  does  not  consider  him  a  pursuer  for  that  is  "the  natural  course  of  the 
World  "  And  this  is  peculiar  since  before  the  head  emerges  it  is  also  the 
natural  course  of  the  world"!  Unfortunately,  this  matter  has  not  been 
clarified  for  me  and  I  find  no  clear  way  to  explain  it.  and  to  explam  it 
away  with  excuses— that  has  already  been  done  in  previous  generations. 
[Yehezkel  Landau,  t^oda  bi-Vehudah  (2nd  ed.),  Hoshen  Mishpat  No.  59] 

If  Maimonides  holds  that  it  is  only  because  the  fetus  is  a  pursuer 
that  we  may  kill  it  and  not  because  it  has  inferior  Status,  that  is 
understandable.  But  then,  what  is  the  difference  between  a  fetus 
before  its  head  has  emerged  and  one  after?  The  fundamental  pomt 
of  the  law  in  the  Talmud  is  that  there  is  a  difference  between  a 
yet-unborn  fetus,  which  is  not  yet  a  nefesh,  and  a  fetus  whose 
head  has  emerged  and  is  already  a  living  person.  If  you  abolish 
this  distinction,  as  Maimonides  implicitly  does,  you  are  left  with 
no  distinctions  at  all.  The  fetus  after  the  head  has  emerged  is 
pursuing  its  mother  just  as  much  as  the  fetus  before  birth.  Or,  as 
Landau  states  it,  if  the  fetus  after  the  head  emerges  is  not  con- 
sidered a  pursuer  because  the  difficulty  of  birth  is  part  of  the 
natural  course  of  things,  why  is  this  not  true  for  the  fetus  before 
the  head  emerges?  Is  it  not  part  of  the  natural  course  of  thmgs  that 
a  fetus  has  difficulty  emerging  from  the  womb  and  thereby  en- 

dangers  its  mother's  life? 

Most  authors  do  not  focus  on  this  logical  problem  in  Maimon- 
ides. Rather,  they  are  preoccupied  with  the  contradiction  between 
Maimonides'  view  and  the  Talmud  and  Rashi.  Two  basic  ap- 
proaches  emerge:  one  essentially  adopts  Maimonides'  pursuer  ar- 
gument as  the  one  and  only  justification  for  aborting  a  fetus,  while 
the  other  tries  to  "save"  the  view  of  Rashi  and  the  Talmud  that  the 


232 


WOMEN  AND  JEWISH  LAW 


ABORTION 


233 


fetus  is  not  a  ne/esh  until  its  liead  emerges,  and  explain  Maimo- 
nides'  Statement  as  a  reference  to  only  a  specific  aspect  of  tho 
Problem  of  abortion.  The  first  approach  leads  to  the  most  stringent 
rulings  on  abortion,  permitting  abortion  only  in  cases  where  tho 
fetus  endangers  its  mother's  life  during  birth  prior  to  the  emer- 
gence  of  the  head.  The  second  view  allows  more  lenient  rulings 
because  it  continues  to  hold  that  the  fetus  before  birth  is  inferior 
to  the  mother  in  its  claim  on  life.  This  view  permits  abortion  in 
cases  of  hazard  other  than  dealh  during  birth. 

The  first  approach  can  be  seen  in  the  halakhic  writings  of 
Hayyim  Soloveitchik  (died  1918): 

The  reason  for  the  opinion  of  Maimonides  here,  namely,  that  the  fetus  is 
like  a  pursuer  pursuing  her  in  order  to  kill  her,  is  that  he  believed  that  a 
fetus  falls  into  the  general  law  of  pikuah  nefesh  [avoiding  hazard  to  life]  in 
the  Torah  since  a  fetus,  too,  is  considered  a  nefesh  and  is  not  put  aside  for 
the  life  of  others.  And  if  we  intend  to  save  [her]  life  through  the  life  of  the 
fetus  and  he  were  not  a  pursuer  the  law  would  pertain  that  you  do  not  save 
one  ne/esh  through  [sacrificing]  another.  Therefore,  if  we  were  to  judge 
this  case  according  to  the  general  nile  of  pikuah  ne/esh  in  the  Torah  wo 
would  not  put  aside  the  fetus's  hfe  for  the  mother's  life.  And  it  is  only 
because  of  the  law  of  saving  the  one  who  is  pursued  that  there  is  the  ruling 
that  the  fetus's  life  is  put  aside  to  save  the  mother's  life.  .  .  .  [Hidduslwi 
Rabbi  Hayyim  Soloveitchik  to  Mishneh  Torah,  Hilkhot  Rotze'ah  1  :  9] 

Soloveitchik  states  emphatically  that  the  fetus  is  considered  a 
ne/esh  and  therefore  is  protected  by  the  law  of  pikuah  ne/es/i  and 
by  the  law  which  forbids  choosing  one  life  over  another.  Only 
because  the  fetus  is  a  pursuer  may  you  save  the  mother  through 
killing  it.  Soloveitchik  regards  Maimonides*  rule  of  the  pursuer 
not  as  a  ruling  against  the  pursuer  but  as  a  duty  toward  the 
pursued;  the  victim  must  be  saved  from  murder. 

Issar  Unterman,  chief  rabbi  of  Israel  in  the  1960s  and  1970s, 
advanced  the  same  principle  as  Soloveitchik:  the  fetus  may  be 
killed  only  because  it  becomes  a  pursuer;  otherwise  killing  a  fetus 
"is  within  the  category  of  murder  . .  .  and  without  the  reason  of 
*pursuer'  it  is  altogether  forbidden  to  kill  the  fetus. "^  However, 
Unterman  modifies  bis  strict  position  by  allowing  certain  circum- 
stances  of  emotional  distress  to  qualify  as  pursuit  for  murder  by 


the  fetus.  The  circumstances  are  those  where  pregnancy  and  birth 
may  cause  the  mother  such  distress  that  she  will  have  suicidal 
intentions.  In  such  a  case  the  fetus  is  threatening  the  mother  s  hfe 
though  the  agent  of  "pursuit"  is  the  mother  herseif.  A  fetus  that 
plunges  its  mother  into  a  suicidal  State  may  be  considered  a  pur- 
suer and  thus  may  be  aborted. 

As  against  the  strict  views  of  Soloveitchik  and  Unterman,  we 
find  authorities  who  try  to  maintain  a  more  lenient  position.  The 
most  lenient,  like  Jacob  Emden,  essentially  reject  the  ruling  by 
Maimonides.  They  view  it  as  an  addendum  to  the  talmudic  rule, 
aiming  to  strengthen  the  justification  for  abortion  but  no   intend- 
ing  to  undermine  or  challenge  the  reason  stated  in  the  Talmud  for 
permitting  abortion.  Most  authorities  try  to  walk  a  fine  line  be- 
tween  Maimonides  and  the  Talmud  as  interpreted  by  Rashi. 
Shneor  Zalman  (Freikin)  of  Lublin  (died  1902),  for  example,  ex- 
plains  that  the  reason  for  Maimonides'  "pursuer'  argument  is  not 
To  eliminate  the  reasoning  in  the  Talmud  (that  the  fetus  is  not  a 
ne/esh)  but  to  teach  us  that  the  fetus  is  the  type  of  pursuer  that 
pursues  without  evil  intention.  It  is  like  the  case  of  a  load  on  a 
ship  that  is  about  to  sink  at  sea,  and  may  be  cast  away  in  order  to 
save  the  ship  and  its  passengers: 

In  such  circumstances  the  cargo  is  the  reason  for  the  danger  to  ^fe  and^^ 
herefore  called  pursuer.  Even  though  there  is  no  crime  in  the  cargo  that 

is  on  the  boTat  all.  and  the  excess  weight  is  caused  equally  by  the  people 
nefashotras  by  the  cargo.  nevertheless,  the  cargo  is  considered  pursuer 

Lnd  it  is  sac^  to  save  the  people.  [Shneor  Zalman  of  Lublin.  Re- 

sponsa  Torat  Hesed  2  :  42) 

The  point  of  the  analogy  between  the  fetus  and  cargo  on  a  ship  is 
that  both  are  considered  pursuers  without  havmg  ev.l  intentions 
and  without  purposeful  pursuit.  The  second  f '"'»«"ty  'f  '  1^^ 
when  compared  to  the  life  of  a  living  person  ("«/««h  ^oth  the 
cargo  and  the  fetus  are  sacrificed  to  save  the  person  s  hfe  though 
Sey  did  no  wrong.  The  interesting  element  in  this  Interpretation 
is  that  Shneor  Zalman  uses  the  pursuer  argument  to  learn  some- 
hing  relevant  about  the  fetus.  but  ultimately  relies  on  the  mfenor 
3s  o  its  life  to  justify  "throwing  it  overboard"  like  the  cargo.  m 


234 


WOMEN  AND  JEWISH  LAW 


Order  to  save  the  mother's  life.  In  other  words,  in  principlo  he 
does  not  abandon  the  ruHng  of  the  Talmud  and  Rashi  that  the 
fetus's  Hfe  is  set  aside  because  it  is  not  a  ne/esh." 

The  more  lenient  position  allows  abortions  in  cases  of  hazard  to 
the  mother,  other  than  mortal  danger.  Such  was  a  case  brought 
beforc  Ben  Zion  Uzicl,  wlio  likc  Unlorman  was  a  chief  ral)bi  in 
Israel. 

You  have  checked  with  me  abovit  a  question  brought  before  you  whore  a 
woman  who  was  suffering  some  ailment  in  her  ear  became  pregnant  and 
then  became  dangerously  ill  and  the  doctors  told  her  that  if  she  does  not 
abort  her  fetus  she  should  become  totally  deaf  in  both  ears.  She  and  her 
husband  fear  God  and  keep  His  laws  and  they  ask  if  they  are  permittod  to 
follow  the  doctors'  Orders  and  abort  the  fetus  by  means  of  drugs,  in  order 
to  save  her  from  total  deafness  for  the  rest  of  her  life.  . .  . 

We  learn  in  this  matter  that  according  to  the  doctors  the  fetus  will 
cause  its  mother  deafness  for  the  rest  of  her  life,  and  there  is  no  greater 
disgrace  than  that.  for  it  will  min  the  rest  of  her  life.  make  her  miserable 
all  her  days  and  make  her  undesirabje  in  the  eyes  of  her  husband.  There- 
fore,  it  is  my  humble  opinion  that  she  should  be  permitted  to  abort  her 
fetus  through  highly  qualified  doctors  who  will  guarantee  ahead  of  tinie 
that  her  life  will  be  preserved.  as  much  as  this  is  possihle.  jlien  Zion 
Uziel.  Mishpefei  üziel,  Hoshen  Mishpat  3  :  46] 

Uzlel  rules  in  favor  of  allowing  an  abortion  in  ordor  to  savo  the 
mother's  hearing,  even  though  her  life  itself  is  not  endangorod  (he 
is  careful  to  require  abortion  by  competent  doctors  lest  tlie  abor- 
tion itself  endanger  the  mother's  life).  Me  bases  his  ruling  on  Ära- 
khin,  where  abortion  is  permitted  to  save  the  woman  from  dis- 
grace. He  holds  that  "there  is  no  greater  disgrace"  for  the  woman 
than  losing  her  hearing  completely,  for  she  will  be  miserable,  and 
possibly  become  unattractivo  and  a  nuisance  to  her  husband.  This 
could  ultimatelyundermine  her  marriageand  ruin  her  life.  UziePs 
View  is  that  because  the  fetus  is  not  a  ne/esh  it  may  be  killod  in 
Order  to  protect  the  mother.  On  the  other  band,  he  continues,  the 
Status  of  the  fetus  does  not  allow  aborting  it  when  there  is  no  good 
reason,  since  the  fetus  has  polcntial  life: 

At  any  rate,  it  is  very  clear  that  they  did  not  permit  killing  a  fetus  other 
than  when  there  is  a  need  for  it,  even  if  the  need  is  a  slim  one  [tzorekh 


'1 


ABORTION 


235 


kalush],  such  as  when  it  would  disgrace  the  mother.  But  without  a  need  it 
is  certainly  prohibited,  because  it  is  destruction  and  prevention  of  the 
possibility  of  Hfe  for  a  ne/esh  in  Israel. 

UziePs  View  is  very  lenient.  Not  only  does  he  allow  abortion  for 
almost  any  "need,"  even  a  weak  cause,  but  he  does  not  cite 
murder,  or  the  Suggestion  of  murder,  as  the  reason  for  prohibiting 
abortion  "without  a  need."  Rather,  protection  of  potential  life  is 
the  reason  for  prohibiting  abortion  without  good  cause. 

Most  recently  Menachem  Elon,  chief  justice  of  the  Israeli  Su- 
preme  Court  and  a  highly  regarded  scholar  of  the  history  of  Jewish 
law  (author  of  the  three-volume  compendium  Ha-Mishpat  Ha- 
Ivri)  published  his  view  on  the  question  of  whether  or  not  abor- 
tion is  considered  murder  in  the  Halakhah.  As  against  the  position 
of  Unterman,  who  equates  abortion  with  murder,  Elon  states: 
"Other  halakhists  follow  the  more  generally  accepted  way  of  the 
Halakhah  in  arguing  that  killing  a  fetus  does  not  constitute  a  viola- 
tion  of  the  prohibition  on  murder,  but  only  a  transgression  against 
a  [lesser]  prohibition.  which  most  authorities  consider  a  Prohibi- 
tion according  to  the  rabbis  only  [not  according  to  the  Torah)." 

In  a  volume  of  responsa  composed  during  the  Holocaust, 
Ephrayim  Oshri  addresses  the  question  of  permitting  abortion 
in  Order  to  save  both  mother  and  Infant  from  murder  by  tfie 
Nazis  He  introduces  the  volume  of  responsa  by  saying:  '  I 
wrote  outlines  of  these  answers  in  those  days  of  horror  so  that 
they  should  remain  in  memory." 

In  the  matter  of  saving  herseif  by  abortion  in  the  Ghetto:  I  was  asked  _. 
about  a  woman  who  became  pregnant  in  the  Ghetto  if  she  is  Perm'»«^  »o 
abort  in  order  to  eliminate  the  pregnancy  since  the  Nazis  ha-tme  im) 
ordered  that  any  Jewish  woman  who  becomes  pregnant  shall  be  kUled. 
she  and  her  fetus.  and  therefore  this  is  a  matter  of  danger  to  life. 

When  a  specific  person  has  been  requested  from  the  community, 
they  may  band  him  over  (so  that  he  shall  be  killed  and  the  community 
saJedT  M  the  more  so  here:  certainly  it  is  pemitted  to  kill  h«  fet"s  in 
order  to  save  the  woman. ...  And  since  in  this  case  it  is  clear  that  both  of 
them  would  die.  definitely  one  should  permit  her  to  perform  an  abortion. 
[Ephrayim  Oshri.  Responsa  mi-Ma'amakim,  Part  1.  No.  20| 


236 


WOMEN  AND  JEWISH  LAW 


ABORTION 


237 


Oshri  cites  the  ruling  that  a  Community  may  sacrifice  one  of  its 
members  in  order  to  save  everyone  eise,  if  the  person  is  someone 
who  has  been  specified  and  requested  by  name.  If  you  may  do  that 
with  a  living  person,  certainly  you  may  do  it  with  a  fetus.  Since  it 
is  clear  beyond  doubt  that  without  an  abortion  both  mother  and 
fetus  will  be  killed,  an  abortion  is  permitted.  The  Situation  Oshri 
discusses  pertains  to  the  inhuman  tyranny  of  the  Nazis.  Dut  a 
similar  problem  could  arise  for  medical  reasons.  It  is  conceivable 
that  a  pregnancy  and/or  birth  would  threaten  the  life  of  both 
mother  and  child.  In  such  a  case,  as  in  the  case  discussed  by 
Oshri,  an  abortion  is  mandated. 

Contemporary  questions  to  halakhic  authorities  have  often  fo- 
cused  on  circumstances  where  there  is  danger  to  the  future  child 
and  not  to  the  mother.  Problems  of  this  nature  arose  with  mothers 
who  feared  the  birth  of  a  child  with  severe  deformities  or  retarda- 
tion  because  the  mother  used  Thalidomide  or  contracted  rubella 
during  the  pregnancy.  Abortion  was  sought  in  order  to  prevent  the 
birth  of  a  deformed  child  into  a  life  of  suffering.  The  Halakhah  has 
no  room  for  killing  a  fetus  in  order  to  prevent  its  future  suffering, 
because  handicap  or  suffering  do  not  infringe  on  the  right  to  live. 
However,  in  a  recent  opinion  Rabbi  Moshe  Yonah  Ha-Levi  Zweig 
of  Antwerp  rulod  that  in  the  case  of  a  Thalidomide  baby  abortion 
is  permitted  before  the  fortieth  day,  but  afterward  may  only  be 
performed  "for  the  mother's  health"  and  not  for  other  consider- 
ations.^"  A  possible  way  out  of  this  problem  is  to  rely  on  the  view 
of  Emden  and  others  that  anguish  to  the  mother  constitutes  a 
"great  need"  and  can  justify  abortion.  Thus  Rabbi  Yehiel  Jacob 
Weinberg,  a  prominent  rabbi  living  in  Switzerland,  published  a 
ruling  in  1966  permitting  a  woman  who  contracted  rubella  during 
her  first  trimester  to  abort  the  fetus  because  fear  that  it  will  be  born 
"without  some  organ  or  without  any  intelligence  .  .  .  causes  her 

.^»:.r«  »»11 

pain. 

An  even  more  extreme  case  is  that  of  a  fetus  known  to  have 
Tay-Sachs  disease,  for  not  only  is  such  a  fetus  doomed  to  groat 
physical  suffering,  but  its  life  expectancy  is  very  short  (three  to 
four  years).  Thus  the  mother  can  expect  great  suffering  if  she  hears 
such  a  child,  and  the  child  is  ultimately  not  viable  since  the  dis- 


ease is  terminal  and  incurable.  Because  of  these  considerations. 

Eliezer  Waidenberg  (1917 ).  a  prominent  rabbi  in  Jerusalem, 

has  ruled  that  aborting  a  Tay-Sachs  fetus  is  permitted: 

One  should  permit . .  .  abortion  as  soon  as  it  becomes  evident  without 
doubt  from  the  test  that.  indeed,  such  a  baby  (Tay-Sachs  babyl  shall  be 

born   even  until  the  seventh  month  of  her  pregnancy lt.  mdeed.  we 

may 'permit  an  abortion  according  to  the  Halakhah  because  of  "great 
need"  and  because  of  pain  and  suffering.  it  seems  that  this  is  the  classic 
case  for  such  permission.  And  it  is  irrelevant  in  what  way  the  pain  and 
suffering  is  expressed,  whether  it  is  physical  or  psychological.  Indeed. 
psychological  suffering  is  in  many  ways  much  greater  than  the  suftering 
of  the  flesh.  [Eliezer  Waidenberg.  Responsa  Tzitz  Eliezer,  Part  13.  No. 
1021 

While  Waidenberg  argues  very  strongly  for  permitting  abortion  to 
a  woman  faced  with  the  tragedy  of  giving  birth  to  a  Tay-Sachs 
baby,  other  contemporary  halakhists  have  opposed  this.  as  they 
maintain  that  only  direct  physical  threat  to  the  mother's  hfe  is 
legitimate  grounds  for  abortion.  ^   .     . 

Not  unlike  Catholics  and  fundamentalist  Protestants,  Orthodox 
Jews  are  faced  with  the  challenge  of  mores  from  their  surrounding 
environment  regarding  abortion  that  have  changed  radically  m 
the  last  decades.  In  North  America  and  Europe  wide  sections  of 
the  Population  consider  abortion  a  legitimate  Option  for  a  woman 
who  does  not  want  the  child  she  carries.  regardless  of  her  reasons. 
Despite  repeated  challenges  from  religious  quarters  this  is  also  the 
Status  quo  codified  in  law  in  many  countries.  In  Israel  abortion  is 
legally  more  restricted.  In  1977  the  Israeli  Knesset  put  into  law 
what  had  been  the  prevailing  practice,  permitting  abortion  in 
cases  of  serious  hazard  to  the  mother;  conception  from  adultery, 
child  pregnancy,  and  rape;  suspicion  of  severe  birth  defects  and 
congenital  disease;  and  of  pressing  socioeconomic  factors  which 
would  prevent  the  parents  from  providing  the  essentials  of  a 
healthy  environment.  The  last  item  was  a  subject  of  great  contro- 
versy  because  the  religious  party  Agudat  Yisrael  opposed  it  vocif- 
erously.  In  1979,  as  part  of  the  coalition  agreement  between  the 
Likud  party  and  Agudat  Yisrael,  the  last  category  was  repealed 
from  the  law. 


<  ;  1 


I  i 


>i 


238 


WOMEN  ANn  JEWISH  LAW 


In  response  to  the  challonge  of  the  environment.  inost  Orthodox 
rabbis  have  adopted  the  more  stringent  view  of  abortion.  It  has 
become  a  common  practicc  lo  cry  out  against  abortion  as  minder 
and  as  a  form  of  genocide.  Often  the  memory  of  the  Holocaust  is 
brought  mto  the  discussion.  with  those  supporting  and  practicing 
abortion  castas  Hitler's  accomphces.  As  against  this  view.  the 
cntics  of  Orthodoxy  and  Ilalnkhah  have  accused  Jowish  law  and 
trad.l.on  of  total  disregard  for  the  essential  human  rights  of 
women  and  subjugatlon  of  women  to  the  role  of  child  producers 
In  the  heat  of  the  debate  each  side  often  dlsregards  the  ränge  of 
opm.ons  which  are  in  fact  represented  in  the  Halakhah  through 
US  historical  development. 

Despite  the  complexity  of  the  issue.  one  can  make  somc  general- 
izations  about  abortion  in  Jewish  law.  The  Halakhah  does  not  rec- 
ogrnze  a  right  of  a  woman  to  abort  a  child  because  it  is  unwanted  in 
Order  to  hmit  the  size  of  her  family.  or  in  order  to  save  herseif  the 
pam  and  suffering  which  are  naturally  inherent  in  giving  birth  and 
raising  children.  But  it  does  recognize  as  a  fundamental  printiple 
the  nght  of  a  woman  to  protoct  her  life  by  abortion.  It  is  part  of  the 
nght.  and  duty.  of  self-preservation  {pikuah  nefesh).  The  sirict  in- 
erpreters  of  the  principle  include  within  it  only  the  protection  of 
Ute  in  cases  where  the  fetus  threatens  the  mother  with  death  The 
more  lenient  halakhists  include  in  the  principle  of  self-protection 
Rm  Tn?tfTl"i!*  °^her  hazards:  pain.  mental  anguish.  and  disgrace. 
But  for  halakhists  of  both  approaches.  abortion  is  always  an  extra- 
ordinary  measure  in  extreme  circumstances. 


RAPE 


OuR  CONCEPTION  of  lapc  has  undergone  a  major  change  in  recent 
years.  Whereas  in  the  past  rape  was  generally  regarded  as  a  crime 
of  passion  and  uncontrollable  sexual  urges,  it  is  viewed  today 
primarily  as  an  act  of  violence.  It  is  an  act  of  violence  between  a 
man  and  a  woman  who  are  cast  in  traditional  social  and  familial 
roles  as  streng  and  weak,  dominating  and  subservient,  aggressor 
and  victim.  This  new  understanding  of  rape  is  based,  on  the  one 
band,  on  psychological  studies  of  men  who  have  committed  rape, 
and  on  the  other  band,  on  the  new  awareness  of  male  and  female 
roles  and  Images  in  our  society  which  feminism  has  brought  into 
focus.^ 

In  the  Halakhah  we  find  a  complex  view  of  rape.  Rape  is  gener- 
ally Seen  as  a  forced  act  fueled  by  sexual  urges  (even  between 
husband  and  wife)  or  alternatively  as  a  man's  way  of  forcibly 
acquiring  a  wife  by  sexually  possessing  her.  But  we  also  find 
recognition  of  the  aggressive-sadistic  dement  in  rape.  The  Bible 
Includes  a  number  of  accounts  of  rape  where  the  primary  motiva- 
tion  is  violence,  not  sexual  gratification.  The  most  strikingarethe 
descriptions  of  the  gang  rape  of  the  Levite's  concubine  in  the  town 
of  Givah  ( Judges  19),  and  the  attempted  homosexual  rape  of  Lot's 
guests  (the  three  angels)  in  Sodom  (Genesis  19).  If  we  compare  the 
two  accounts  we  find  many  literary  similarities,  suggesting  that 
the  two  accounts  were  fashioned  to  resemble  one  another  to  ac- 
centuate  their  impact  as  stories  of  ultimate  human  barbarism.  In 
the  story  of  Lot  the  townspeople  demand  that  the  three  men  who 
came  to  visit  Lot  be  handed  over  to  them  so  that  they  can  sexually 
molest  them.  Lot  attempts  to  save  bis  guests  by  offering  bis  two 
virgin  daughters  to  the  crowd  instead.  But  why  he  prefers  to  sacri- 


239 


266 


WOMEN  AND  JEWISH  LAW 


I  believe  that  the  call  for  women  to  become  leaders  within  the 
Jewish  World  must  be  extended.  Certainly  the  Ordination  of 
women  rabbis  is  a  step  in  this  direction.  But  authority  in  the 
Jewish  tradition  comes  less  from  formal  titles  than  from  learning. 
Jewish  women  of  all  religious  persuasions  and  commitments  must 
become  learned  in  the  Halakhah,  even  if  they  do  not  actually  live 
by  it,  for  it  is  the  framework  and  vocabulary  of  Jewish  life.  The 
first  and  most  important  step  in  the  dialectical  revolution  of  pre- 
serving  and  changing  is  talmud  torah:  the  serious  study  of  the 
Halakhah.  Only  those  who  explore  the  historical  roots  of  the  Ha- 
lakhah and  master  its  logic  may  become  part  of  its  future  growth. 


ü 


NOTES 

Pentateuch  passages  are  quoted  from  the  Jewish  Publication  Society 
translation  of  the  Torah  and  passages  from  the  Babylonian  Talmud  are 
quoted  from  the  Soncino  translation,  unless  otherwise  noted  for  either. 
Occasionally  I  have  made  minor  changes  in  the  above  translations.  When 
a  Pentateuch  verse  is  quoted  in  the  Babylonian  Talmud  I  have  maintained 
the  Soncino  translation  which  may  vary  from  the  JPS  translation  cited 
earlier  on  in  the  text.  Translations  of  all  other  texts  are  mine  unless 
otherwise  indicated  in  the  notes. 

Chapter  1.  Women  and  the  Mitzvot 

1.  See  the  summary  in  David  Feldman,  "Women's  Role  and  Jewish 
Law."  Conservative  ]udaism  26,  no.  4  (Summer  1972):  29-39.  and  a  more 
conservative  view  in  Moshe  Meiselman,  Jewish  Woman  in  Jewish  Law 
(New  York.  1978).  Chap.  9.  ,  ,^..    .    i  .       .. 

2.  See  Saul  Berman,  'The  Status  of  Women  in  Halakhic  Judaism, 
reprinted  in  The  Jewish  Woman,  edited  by  Elizabeth  Koltun  (New  York, 
1976),  pp.  114-28.  For  a  "pro-feminist"  Orthodox  view.  see  Blu  Green- 
berg,  On  Women  and  Judaism:  A  View  from  Tradition  (Philadelphia, 

1981),Chaps.  1  and  2. 

3    See  Meiselman,  Jewish  Woman  in  Jewish  Law,  Chaps.  8  and  9. 

4.  Exceptions  to  the  rule  regarding  tefillin  and  tzitzit  are  discussed  in 
the  Talmud,  e.g.,  Rosh  Ha-Shanah  33a.  which  cites  cases  of  women  (Mik- 
hal.  daughter  of  King  Saul)  who  according  to  the  Midrash  wore  tzitzit  and 
tefiijin  For  a  discussion  of  the  mitzvah  of  blowing  the  shofar,  see  Arlene 
Pianko,  "Women  and  the  Shofar."  Tradition  14.  no.  4  (Fall  1974):  53-62. 
See  also  Meiselman,  Jewish  Woman  in  Jewish  Law.  Chaps.  21  and  22. 

5.  The  subject  of  iehinoi  and  women's  historical  relation  to  prayer 
remains  hardly  touched  by  scholarly  work.  In  bis  overview  of  Jewish 
prayer  Jewish  Worship  (Philadelphia.  1971),  Abraham  Milgram  devotes 
one  and  a  half  pages  (pp.  473-74)  to  the  subject.  For  biographical  details 
about  women  who  composed  iehinot,  see  Solomon  Ashkenazi,  "Women 
Authors  of  Piyyutim,  Tehinot,  and  Prayers"  (Hebrew),  Mahanayim  109 
(1967):  75-82;  as  well  as  Ashkenazi's  Woman  in  the  Jewish  Perspective 
(Hebrew)  (Tel  Aviv,  1957).  Some  new  "women's  prayers"  have  recently 
been  composed  for  occasions  such  as  giving  birth  and  Rosh  Hodesh.  See 
Arlene  Agus,  "This  Month  Is  for  You:  Observing  Rosh  Hodesh  as  a 

267 


268 


NOTES  TO  PAGES  22-38 


.^v 


NOTES  TO  PAGES  39-50 


269 


1  t 
}  I 


Woman's  Holiday,"  and  Daniel  Leifer  and  Myra  Leifer,  "On  the  Birthof« 
Daughter,"  both  in  Koltun's  The  Jawish  Woman.  A  particularly  emotion- 
laden issue  iias  been  the  question  of  women  reciting  Kaddish  for  their 
parents:  see  Sara  Reguer,  "Kaddisli  from  the  'Wrong'  Side  of  the  Mehi- 
tzah,"  in  Susannah  Heschel,  On  Being  a  ]ewish  Feminist  (New  York» 
1983),  pp.  177-81. 

6.  Feldman,  "Women's  Role  and  Jowish  Law,"  p.  36.  For  a  view  advo- 
cating  counting  women  in  a  minyan  in  the  Conservative  Movement,  see 
Phillip  Sigal,  "Women  in  a  Prayor  Quorum,"  Judaism  23  (Spring  1974): 
174-82. 

7.  As  cited  in  Feldman,  "Women's  Role  and  Jewish  Law";  see  there  for 
more  detailed  discussion  of  Ran's  position. 

8.  See  Rabbenu  Tam's  view  in  Tosafot  on  Rosh  Ha-Shanah  33a,  and 
Menahem  Ha-Meiri,  Bei  Ha-Behiiah  on  Megillah  23a.  For  a  derivation  of 
Torah  reading  from  the  mitzvah  of  hak'hel,  see  Abraham  Gumbiner,  Ma- 
gen Avraham  (Commentary  on  the  Shuihnn  Arukh).  Orah  Hayyiin 
282  :  3.  See  also  Meiselman's  discussion,  in  Jewish  Wonuin  in  jewish 
Law,  Chap.  9. 

9.  The  basis  for  this  view  is  the  position  of  Jacob  Landau  (fifteenth 
Century);  see  the  discussion  in  Feldman,  "Women's  Role  and  Jewish 
Law." 

10.  See  Meiselman,  ]ewish  Womim  in  Jewish  Law,  Chap.  20. 

11.  The  practice  in  regard  to  aliyot  varies  from  one  Conservative  con- 
gregation  to  another  as  the  Rabbinical  Assembly  decided  to  allow  each 
Conservative  synagogue  to  rule  according  to  its  own  members'  wishes. 
For  background  discussion,  see  A.  131umenthal,  "An  Aliyah  for  Women," 
Proceedings  of  the  Babbinical  Assembly  of  America  19  (1955):  168-81. 
For  more  recent  articles,  see  Ora  Hamelsdorf  and  Sandra  Adelsberg,  Jew- 
ish Women  and  Jewish  Law:  ßihliography  (Fresh  Meadows,  N.Y.,  1980). 

12.  My  translation. 

13.  For  this  view,  see  Meiselman, /ewish  Woman  in  Jewish  Law,  Chap. 
20. 

14.  On  the  Obligation  of  childron  toward  their  parents,  see  Gerald  Blid- 
stein,  Honor  Thy  Father  and  Thy  Molher;  Fiiial  Responsibility  in  Jewish 
Law(New  York,  1975). 

15.  See  Judith  Hauptman,  "Women  in  the  Talmud,"  in  Religion  and 
Sexism,  edited  by  Rosemary  Ruether  (New  York.  1974).  For  an  analysis  of 
the  most  prominent  learned  woman  in  the  Talmud,  Beruriah.  the  wife  of 
Rabbi  Meir,  see  Ann  Goldfeld,  "Women  as  Sources  of  Torah  in  the  Kah- 
binic  Tradition,"  Judaism  24,  no.  2,  reprinted  in  Koltun,  The  Jewish 
Woman. 

16.  For  a  comprehensive  review  of  the  Halakhah  and  attitudes  toward 
teaching  women,  and  a  strong  Orthodox  advocacy  of  institutionalized 
Jewish  education  for  girls,  see  Rabbi  Techoresh,  "Regarding  the  Educa- 


tica  q£  Giris-  iH^hraW.  N-cam  \Z  1 1969V.  77-81.  See  also  -\rthur  Silver^ 


X  4 


LcüTcwiti  L:C^c^  ±^  r^^^  ^  ^rrtJCi^rt:»  :ic  r-^i^ü  ^iv  A^^^iii  .. 


have  any  desire  to  perform  niur.  ot  trom  wnicXiinev  iJ^  c.xc^-|PA  ^^^^^ j--' 
only  meaning  of  a  mitzvah  is  the  fact  that  it  has  been  commanded.  The 
mitzvot,  in  bis  view.  have  absolutely  no  intrinsic  value.  This  view  is 
rather  similar  to  Sa'adia  Gaon's  view  of  the  mitzvot  shim'iyot. 

18.  As  cited  in  Ha-aretz  daily  newspaper  (abbreviated  from  an  article 
in  the  religious  Journal  Amudim).  May  4.  1983.  ,     of 

19  For  the  debate  on  the  Ordination  of  women  rabbis  in  the  Ketorm 
movement,  see  Central  Conference  of  American  Rabbis  (^C AR).  "Report 
of  the  Committee  on  Ordination  of  Women."  CCAR  Vearbook  66  (1956): 

9—93 

20 '  The  faculty  of  the  Jewish  Theological  Seminary  voted  to  approve 
the  Ordination  of  women  rabbis  in  October,  1983.  The  debate  over  Ordina- 
tion of  women  in  the  Conservative  movement  generated  many  articles.  hör 
a  summary.  see  the  following:  "Commission  for  the  Study  of  the  Ordina- 
tion of  Women.  Final  Report,"  Conservative  /udaism  32  (Summer  1979): 
63-80;  Fishel  Pearlmutter.  "Report  on  the  Decision  of  the  Commission  to 
Study  the  Ordination  of  Women."  The  Rabbinical  Assembly.  New  York. 
Feh  2  1979;  Proceedings  o/  (he  Rabbinical  Assembly,  Statements  before 
the  Commission  on  the  Ordination  of  Women.  dated  Sept.  7.  1979.  and 
Dec.  3.  1979.  See  also  Gerson  Cohen.  "On  the  Ordination  of  Women 
Conservative  /udaism  32  (Summer  1979):  56-62;  and  an  article  by  Ruth 
Wisse  which  aroused  much  criticism  by  "pro-feminists.  Women  as  Con- 
servative Rabbis."  Commentary  68  (Oct.  1979):  59-64. 


Chapter2.Marriage 

1.  Genesis  24. 

2.  My  translation.  ,      .,..,,     .        ,ri„ 

3  See  Ze'ev  Falk.  Jewish  Matrimonial  Law  in  Ihe  Middle  Ages  Ox- 
ford. 1966);  and  A.  H.  Freiman.  Seder  Kiddushin  Ve-Nisu'in  (Jerusalem. 
1964).  For  a  more  detailed  work  on  Jewish  marriage,  see  Kaiman  Kahana. 
The  Theoryo/Marriage  in  Jewish  Law  (Leiden.  1966).  .  ,  .    .^ 

4  There  is  a  debate  in  the  Halakhah  as  to  which  is  better:  to  violate  the 
ban  against  polygyny  or  to  violate  the  ban  on  divorcing  a  woman  agains 
her  will  when  the  marriage  is  untenable  and  the  woman  refuses  to  accept 
a  ge^  Serfor  example.  Benjamin  Rabinowitz  Teomim.  "A  Release  from 


iffl 


270 


NOTES  TO  PAGES  51-74 


^4::.i-z:  j^-±x^ 


the  Ban  of  Rabbenu  Gershom  in  the  Gase  of  a  Gripple"  (Hebrew),  Noam  2 
(1959):  284-316. 

5.  See  the  discussion  in  Freinian,  Seder  Kiddushin  Ve-Nisu'in,  passini. 

6.  My  translation. 

7.  Translation  by  David  Biale. 

8.  For  a  discussion  of  the  Simphon,  see  Freiman.  Seder  Kiddushin 
Ve-Nisu'in,  pp.  11-13. 

9.  Yevamot  94b  and  107a.  See  also  the  Symposium  on  the  issue  of 
conditional  kiddushin  in  Noam  1  (1958):  52-110. 

10.  The  traditional  blessing  at  the  marriage  ceremony  inchides  Ihcj 
Statement  ''Blessed  be  He  who  forbade  us  the  arusot  [women  betrothed 
but  not  yet  married]  and  permitted  us  the  nesu'ot  [women  laken  in  both 
betrothal  and  nisu'inj."  For  an  interesting  reflection  of  the  gradual  fusion 
of  the  two  ceremonies,  see  Rashi.  Responsa  (Elfenbein  edition).  No.  194. 

11.  See.  e.g.,  Niddah  31b:  "Ral)bi  Dostai's  students  said  to  hini:  Why 
does  a  man  court  a  woman  but  a  woman  not  court  a  man?  |He  answered| 
It  is  like  a  man  who  loses  somelhing:  who  goes  looking  for  whom?  The 
one  who  lost  the  thing  goes  looking  for  it!"  See  also  Berakhot  lOb. 

12.  See  ßirkei  Yosef,  the  commentary  on  the  Shulhnn  Arukh,  by 
Hayyim  Yosef  David  Azulai  (eighteenth  Century).  "Hirhur  [sexual 
thoughts]  is  not  relevant  to  women"  [Even  Ha-Ezer  1:16).  For  a  more 
detailed  discussion.  see  below,  Ghapter  5  on  sexuality  and  marital  reia- 
tions,  and  Louis  Epstein.  Sex  Laws  and  Cusioms  in  Judaism  (New  York, 
1967),Ghaps.  1  and  4. 

13.  On  the  issue  of  child  marriages,  see  Jacob  Katz.  "Family.  Kinship, 
and  Marriage  among  Ashkenazim  in  the  Sixteenth  to  Eighteenth  Gentu- 
ries,"  jewish  Journal  of  Sociolo^y  1  (1959):  4-22.  A  more  detailed  and 
technical  articie  appeared  in  Hebrew:  Jacob  Katz,  "Marriage  and  Marital 
Life  at  the  End  of  the  Middle  Ages,"  Zion  10  (1946):  21-54. 

14.  See  David  Biale,  Childhood  Marriage  and  the  Fan}ily  in  the  Eastern 
European  jewish  EnlightenmenV'  (American  Jewish  Gommittee,  1983). 

15.  We  have  not  discussed  the  question  of  the  economic  side  of  mar- 
riage here.  For  an  excellent  review  of  the  economic  rights  and  constraints 
which  apply  to  a  married  woman,  see  Samuel  Morrell,  "An  Equal  or  a 
Ward:  How  Independent  Is  a  Married  Woman  According  to  Rabbinic 
Law?"  Jewish  Social  Studies  44,  nos.  3-4  (Summer-Fall  1982):  189-210, 
especially  Part  1  (pp.  189-97). 

Chapler  3.  Divorce 

1.  Malachi  2  :  14-16  (my  translation). 

2.  See  Evald  Lovetam,  "Divorce  and  Remarriage  in  the  New  Testa- 
ment," The  Jewish  Law  Annual  4  (1981):  47-65. 

3.  In  the  final  analysis  Bet  Hillel  and  Rabbi  Akiva  hold  similar  views 


as  regards  the  practicai  posslbiiines  ior  ä  man  lo  ininaic  oivorce.  since  m 
bolh  cases  ihe  grounds  for  divorce  would  be  what  ihe  husband  subjec- 
tively  desires  or  finds  distasteful.  Yet  their  analysis  of  the  text  is  very 

different. 

4.  In  the  mishnaic  text  the  quote  attributed  to  Bet  Shammai  actually 
inverts  the  word  order  to  read  devar  ervah.  This  reading  is  the  more 
natural  grammatical  order  for  the  meaning  that  Bet  Shammai  assign  to  the 

phrase. 

5.  See  the  discussion  in  Yair  Zakovitch,  "The  Woman's  Right  in  the 
Biblical  Law  of  Divorce,"  The  Jewish  Law  AnnuaJ  4  (1981):  33-34. 

6.  An  aduheress  is  forbidden  to  both  her  husband  and  her  lover:  "asu- 
rah  Je-ba'alah  u-Je-vo'alah"  (Sotah  27b). 

7.  For  a  succinct  summary  of  the  laws  of  divorce,  see  Blu  Greenberg, 
"Jewish  Divorce  Law,"  Lilith.  1.  no.  3  (1977):  26-29;  and  Simon  Green- 
berg. "And  He  Writes  Her  a  Bill  of  Divorce,"  Conservative  Judaism  24 
(1970):  75-141 .  For  the  Gonservative  movement's  position  on  divorce,  see 
Edward  Gershfield  (ed.),  The  Jewish  Law  of  Divorce  (New  York,  1968). 

8.  On  the  history  of  the  ketubah,  see  Louis  Epstein,  The  Jewish  Mar- 
riage Contract  (New  York,  1927);  and  Moses  Gaster,  The  Ketubah  (re- 
printed;  New  York.  1974).  On  the  artistic  tradition  of  illuminated  ketubot, 
see  David  Davidovitch,  The  Ketubah:  Jewish  Marriage  Contracts  through 
the  Ages  (Hebrew  and  English)  (Tel  Aviv,  1968). 

9.  The  ketubah  often  includes  additional  details  of  the  financial  agree- 
ment  between  the  couple.  These  were  called  fena'im  (conditions).  In 
some  cases,  when  the  bride  came  from  a  wealthy  family  the  tena'im 
included  a  provision  allowing  her  to  engage  in  business  on  her  own 
behalf.  For  a  detailed  discussion  of  such  clauses  and  the  question  of  a 
woman's  right  to  engage  in  business  for  herseif,  see  Samuel  Morrell,  "An 
Equal  or  a  Ward:  How  Independent  Is  a  Married  Woman  According  to 
Rabbinic  Law?"  Jewish  Social  Studies  44,  nos.  3-4  (Summer-Fall  1982): 

190-97.  . 

10.  For  extensive  discussion  and  more  examples,  see  Zakovitch,  "The 

Woman's  Rights." 

11.  See  Mordechai  Friedman,  "Divorce  upon  the  Wife's  Demand  as 
Reflected  in  Manuscripts  from  the  Gairo  Geniza,"  The  Jewish  Law  An- 
nual 4  (1981):  103-26. 

12.  Ketubot  61b. 

13.  See  Rashi  and  Tosafot  on  Ketubot  61b. 

14.  Ketubot  63b. 

15.  See  the  Shulhan  Arukh,  Even  Ha-Ezer  77,  and  commentaries  there. 

16.  See  similarly  the  discussion  of  the  use  of  contraception  in  Ghapter 
8  on  procreation  and  contraception,  where  one  cannot  be  expected  to  rely 
on  divine  mercy  to  prevent  a  dangerous  pregnancy  (Yevamot  12b). 

17.  Maimonides.  Mishneh  Torah.  Hilkhot  Ishut  15  :  17. 


272 


NOTES  TU  PAGES  91-103 


NOTES  TO  PAGES  105-111 


273 


18.  Ibid.,  15  :  18.  For  further  discussion  of  the  rebellious  wife,  S(3e 
Morrell,  "An  Equal  ora  Ward?"  Part  3,  pp.  198-201. 

19.  Quoted  in  Moses  Isserles's  commentary  on  the  Tun  Darkhei 
Moshe,  Even  Ha-Ezer  154  :  11.  However,  another  source  (Responsa  of 
Binyamin  Ze'ev,  No.  88)  cites  the  Maharam  of  Rothenburg  as  one  of  tiie 
authorities  who  permit  physical  punishment  to  chastize  a  wife.  For  fur- 
ther discussion  of  the  ränge  of  opinions  on  wife-beating  (primarily  as  a 
form  of  punishment  for  her  cursing  the  husband's  parenls),  soe  Morrell, 
"An  Equal  or  a  Ward?"  Part  2,  pj).  1 97-98,  and  the  extensive  footnotes  for 
thissection. 

20.  Binyamin  Ze'ev,  Responsa  No.  88. 

21.  Moses  Maimonides,  Mishneh  Torah,  Hilkhot  Ishut  21  :  3,  10.  The 
Rabad  (Avraham  ben  David  of  Posquieres),  in  his  commentary  on  the  Mish- 
neh Torah,  expresses  great  surprise  at  this  rulingand  rejects  it  altogether. 

22.  See  Prime  Minister's  Office  Commission  on  ihe  Status  of  Women 
(Jerusalem,  1978).  The  commission  was  established  in  1975  and  was 
headed  by  Knesset  member  Ora  Namir.  It  submitted  a  summary  of  its 
findings  and  its  recommendations  in  February  1978  and  a  füll  report  in 
August  1978.  There  is  a  recenl  article  on  wife-beating  among  American 
Jews:  Mimi  Scarf,  "Marriage  Made  in  Heaven?  Battered  Jewish  Wives,"  in 
Susannah  Heschel,  On  ßeing  a  Jewish  Feminist  (New  York,  1983),  i)p. 
51-64.  However,  a  more  extensive  treatment  of  the  problem  in  both 
quantitative  and  analytical  terms  remains  to  he  written. 

23.  This  mishnah  is  also  citod  in  Giltin  88b. 

24.  For  a  concise  discussion  of  the  Paris  proposal  and  other  refonn 
proposals  for  the  Solution  of  the  agunah  problenfi,  see  Moshe  Meiselman, 
Jewish  Woman  in  Jewish  Law  (New  York,  1978),  Chap.  17.  For  a  more 
detaiied  discussion,  see  Meir  IIa  Meiri  (Feuerwerger),  Eznit  Nashim  (Lon- 
don, 1955).  See  also  Mark  Washofsky,  *The  Recalcitrant  Husband:  The 
Problem  of  Definition,"  The  Jewish  Law  Annual  4  (1981):  144-06.  For 
further  discussion,  see  below, Chapter 4,  'The  Agunah  and  the  V^vamah." 

Chapter  4.  The  Agunah  and  the  Yevamah 

1.  For  an  extensive  compilalion  of  halakhic  material  on  ngunot,  see 
Isaac  Parkas  Kahan,  Se/er  licj-Agunot  (Jerusalem,  1954).  For  rabbinic  and 
comparative  sources  on  the  ai^unah  and  the  yevamah,  see  S.  Belkin, 
''Levirate  and  Agunate  Marriage  in  Rabbinic  and  Cognate  Literature," 
Jewish  Quarterly  Review,  40  (1970):  275-329.  For  a  review  of  the  propos- 
als for  resolution  of  the  aguncih  problem,  see  Moshe  Meiselman,  Jewish 
Woman  in  Jewish  Law  (New  York,  1978),  Chap.  17. 

2.  In  Jewish  law  an  illegitimate  child  (mamzer)  is  only  the  product  of 
an  expressly  forbidden  union,  not  a  child  born  out  of  wedlock.  A  mamzer 
may  not  marry  any  Jew/Jewess  unless  the  other  person  is  also  a  mamzer. 


t" 


A  man  who  is  a  mamzer  may  also  marry  a  woman  who  converts  to 

rr-P^ÄTlriÄnor-  (Hebrew).  Noam  19  (1977):  61- 

'"4:  BothpassagesfromYevamotmbar^^^^^^^^^^^  ^^ 

5.  For  example.  Meir  »«Meir.   Feuerwerger^. n  ms  t^^  ^^^ 

"TTor^rdlSön  of  conditional  divorce.  see  Eliezer  Berkowitz.  Te- 

nai  Be-Nisu'in  l^-^e-Getj Jerusalem.  1967).  „.arriage.  see  A.  H. 

7    For  an  extensive  discussion  of  annulment  Ol  mdi     g. 

Frlim'an.  Seder  Kiddushin  Ve-Nisu'in    Jerusalem   1964)   Chapt. ^.^^  ^ 

Symposium  in  Noam,  ^o»"™«3.  KLiNoam  11  (1968).  See  also 
Conditional  Clause  in  Marriage    f"!^';^';  ^^^^^^^ 

Law  Annual  4  (1981):  207-25.  .     ,   .  uj»  1954  pp.  64-68.  For  a 

8.  SeeProceedingso/theRabbm.cal  A^^^^^^  ^^^  ^^^^^„ 

discussion  and  critique  ot  the  ^^;®°f™^„  .:,;„„  2  no.  1  (Fall  1959  : 

rii8:rrrrm^pÄ^ 

^ISS!'ISS^^I^^^^^^  Me'^elman.  /e.ish 
^rSei"E'Sn^n"e\';Sp'roposal  "Tnai  Be-Kiddushin."  Proceedings 
o/the  Rabbinical  Assembly  1968  Pp.  229-241^^^^     ^^^  ^^^  ^^^^^  g,,^^ 

10.  For  a  review  of  ^o"^  "?f ';  ^,f„b^  of  the  Ketubah  as  a  Private 
son.  "American  Courts  and  the  EnforceabUity  ot  tn  ^^_^^  ^^^ 
Contract."  Conservative  uda.sm  35  no^  3  Spring  )^^.^^^  ^^^^^^ 
Bernard  Meislin.  "Pursuit  of  '^e  Wife  s  RigW  to  a 

and  Canadian  Courts."  T^he/ewish  U.w  Ann"al  4  U«»  ^  ^^^.^^^  .^ 

11.  See  Nat  Hentoff.;Who  Will  Rescue  the  ,^^^^^^  ^^  ^^^.^^  ^^.^ 

Limbo'"  The  Vi  läge  Voice.  Sept.  13.  laöJ,  aim 

Äin  the  October  4  issueof  The  V.l löge  Vo.ce  ^^^^^  ^^^^^ 

12.  See  the  discussion  m  E.  G.  EUinson.  '^'S"  '  g      ^jj^  va'akov 
Vp  Visrael  (Tel  Aviv.  1975),  Chap.  5.  esp.  pp.  86   ^^■J>^^ 
EmIerResponsa  Sh;'elat  Ya'avetz  vol.  2  Responsum  #15. 


274 


NOTES  TO  PAGES  112-123 


' 


13.  See  Shulamit  Moni,  The  Status  Quo:  From  State  of  Law  to  State  of 
Halakhah  (Hebrew)  (Tel  Aviv,  1970). 

14.  My  translation. 

15.  My  translation. 

16.  For  a  detailed  discussion,  see  Freiman,  Seder  Kiddushin  Ve- 
Nisu*in. 

17.  For  a  detailed  discussion  of  the  problems  of  a  yevamah  who  "falls 
before  a  levir,"  see  Meir  Ha  Mein,  Ezrat  Nashim,  Chaps.  5-14;  Isaac  Jacob 
Vachtfogel,  "Regarding  a  Yevamah''  (Hebrew)  Noam  6  (1963):  112-18; 
and  Abraham  Moshe  Fingerhut,  "Regarding  the  Woman  Who  Requires 
Vibum"  (Hebrew).  Noam  6  (1963):  119-23. 


Chapfer  5.  SexuaJity  and  Marita!  Relations 

1.  For  general  works  on  sexuality  in  Jewish  law  and  tradition,  se^e 
Roland  Gittelsohn,  Love,  Sex  aml  Marriage:  A  ]ewish  View  (New  York, 
1976);  Robert  Gordis,  Love  and  Sex:  Ä  Modem  ]ewish  Perspective  (New 
York,  1978);  as  well  as  his  Sex  and  the  Family  in  Jewish  Tradition  (New 
York,  1967).  See  also  Maurice  Lamm,  The  Jewish  Way  in  Love  and  Mar- 
riage (San  Francisco,  1980).  For  a  wealth  of  material  on  sexuality  in  the 
View  of  the  Rabbis  see  Louis  Epstein,  Sex  Laws  and  Customs  in  Judaism 
(New  York,  1967).  A  good  many  of  the  pronouncements  on  sexuality  in 
the  Talmud  and  the  Midrash  (including  some  of  the  more  daring  and 
surprising  ones)  have  been  collected  in  the  Hebrew  anthology  by  Shlomo 
Shva,  Ahavüh  Doheket  et  Ha-Basar  (Tel  Aviv,  1979). 

2.  On  masturbation  and  touching  of  the  genitals  by  men,  see  the  State- 
ment "in  the  case  of  a  man  the  band  that  reaches  below  the  belly-button 
should  be  chopped  off"  (Niddah  13a).  On  homosexuality,  see  Chapter  7, 
below. 

3.  The  tension  between  the  strength  and  covertness  of  female  sexuality 
is  expressed  by  another  passage  in  the  Talmud  which  forbids  a  court 
Order  to  supply  a  woman  with  wine  (as  part  of  a  ketubah  settlement). 
Wine  is  dangerous  because  it  loosens  the  restraint  and  releases  the  hid- 
den  sexual  Impulse:  "Rabbi  Eliezer  said:  We  do  not  order  a  woman  to  be 
supplied  with  wine  since  wine  accustoms  a  person  to  desire  sexual  inter- 
course.  For  we  have  learned:  one  glass  is  beneficial  for  a  woman,  two 
glasses  are  a  disgrace  [nivul],  three — she  demands  sex  with  her  mouth, 
four — she  demands  even  a  donkey  in  the  market  and  has  no  restraints. 

"Raba  said:  all  of  that  [is  the  case]  if  her  husband  is  not  with  her,  but  if 
her  husband  is  with  her — it  is  pormitted"  (Ketubot  65a). 

4.  There  are  innumerable  Iraditional  and  scholarly  commentaries  on 
the  two  Genesis  stories.  I  recently  found  a  new  insight  in  an  article  by 
Meir  Shalev  (''Bible  Now"  [Hebrew],  Ha-Aretz  daily  newspaper,  May  21, 


t: 


NOTES  TO  PAGES  116-1«  -- 

iPR«^!  in  which  he  Points  out  the  fact  that  in  the  second  story  Adam  and 

'TClhe  Uta'dic  discussion  ol  Ihe  naW-e  ol  Ih.  «.raiclion,  innu^  in 

°Fefd  Jn;2dofMltrSc.n.rol  and  Abor,lon  ,n  ,e.,sh  U.» 
|New  York.  1 9741. Chsp s-  -Und  5.  ,    .  ,,,„  confllcl 

thls  «nslon,  mosl  famous  among  ''■»'""«'^''iSYn  David  Zimmer. 
Z';;.rof  E^S'Äo£■;n^ÄSsh"Ä  Tolmud  ,Heh.w, 

r.;^  ranirplfclI'^SÄÄrBrol-i^)  '"^  -""^ 

in  his  responsa  Me'il  Tzedakah. 
9.  My  translation. 

ual  Morality  (New  York,  1976).  i  eviticus  Rabbah 

Chapter  1^^"'*]  M-Kyia  For  an  «360?^^  on  the  notion 

Eruvin  100b  and  Niddah  71a.  hör  an  exceiiuii  h  Marital  Re  a- 

of  female  seed  and  ideas  about  f  "«^«P''°";,X"^„^7he  fSow^ngcolorful 

tions,  Chap.  7.  On  the  preference  "^^"^f '.^^l'.'I.Xsaaes    aid:  The  world 

lext  is  characteristic  of  ^abbm.cal  att.tudes^  The  Sages  sa^ 

cannot  exist  without  ma  es  and  females    Woe  »o  hirn  wh  ^^^^ 

children!  A  daughter  is  like  a  trap   °\,^er  father-  for  te^  t 

not  sleep  at  night.  When  she  .s  srna  1  »^f^'-^V  promiscu^^^^      when   she 

i"re^Ü  s^iitht  -  «:  irshe^^marries-that  she  .ight 


I 


276 


NOTES  TO  PAGES  147-163 


II 


"1 

'i! 


not  produce  children;  when  she  grows  old — that  she  would  praclice 
witchcraft"  (Sanhedrin  100b). 


ChapterG.  Niddah:  The  Laws  of  ihe  Menstruani 

1.  See  Janice  Delaney,  Tha  Curse:  A  Cultural  lUsiory  of  Mcnsiruntion 
(New  York,  1976);  and  Penelü|)()  Shuttle,  The  Wise  Wound:  Evc's  Caivsh 
and  Everywonmn  (New  York,  1978). 

2.  See  Jacob  Neusner,  A  Hisiovy  ofthe  Mishnaic  Law  ofPurity  (Leiden, 
1974),  for  a  general  discussion  of  the  laws  of  purity  and  impurity,  and  hi.s 
article,  "From  Scripture  to  Misluiah:  The  Origins  of  the  Mishnaic  Trac- 
tate  Niddah,"  Journal  of  Jewish  Studios  29  (1978):  135-48,  for  a  specific 
discussion  of  the  evolution  of  tho  laws  of  niddah. 

3.  See,  for  example,  Rachel  Adler,  "Tum'ah  and  Taharah:  Ends  and 
ßeginnings,"  in  The  /ewish  VVoinon,  edited  by  Elizabeth  Koltun  (New 
York,  1976),  pp.  63-71. 

4.  The  distinction  of  types  of  blood  was  particularly  difficult  in 
premodern  times  because  medical  and  physiological  knowledge  of  the 
female  genital  and  reproductive  Systems  was  very  limited.  In  modern 
times  rabbis  have  often  relied  on  medical  diagnosis  and  expertise  to 
resolve  problems  of  women  with  unusual  menstruation  patterns.  See,  for 
example,  Shlomo  Zalman  Auerl)ach,  "A  Proposal  for  a  Solution  for 
Women  in  the  Matters  of  Niddah''  (Hebrew),  Noam  7  (1964):  134-74;  and 
the  response  to  this  Suggestion  in  Ihe  subsequent  issue  of  Noam  by  Mena- 
hem  Kasher  (7  :  293-349).  For  more  general  Information  about  the  laws 
of  niddah,  including  speculations  about  the  religious  and  psychological 
value  of  these  laws,  see  Moshe  Meiselman,  Jewish  Woman  in  Jewish  Law 
(New  York,  1978),  Chap.  19;  and  iHu  Greenberg,  On  Women  and  Judaism: 
A  View  from  Tradition  (Philadelphia.  1981),  Chap.  4,  "In  Defense  of  the 
'Daughters  of  Israel*:  Observations  on  Niddah  and  Mikveh."  For  more 
specific  details,  see  Moses  Tendier,  Pardes  Rimonim  (Jerusalem,  1970). 

5.  The  kinds  of  punishments  which  a  court  can  impose  on  an  offender, 
including  the  different  forms  of  capital  punishment,  are  discussed  in 
detail  in  Tractate  Sanhedrin. 

6.  A  woman  of  wealth  is  also  required  by  the  rabbis  to  engage  in 
weaving  in  order  to  keep  away  from  idleness,  since  "idleness  leads  to 
sin"  (Ketubot  64b). 

7.  My  translation. 

8.  The  commentaries  on  the  Tur  and  Shulhan  Arukh  include  a  lengthy 
discussion  of  this  matter  as  well  as  other  related  questions,  such  as 
should  a  woman  have  special  clothing  to  be  worn  during  her  niddah 
period,  may  these  be  pretty  clothes,  and  may  she  demand  such  clothing 
from  her  husband. 


NOTES  TO  PAGES  166-180 


277 


9    Kaiman  Kahana.  Dough.er  of  Isroe,:  Lews  of  Family  Puri.y  (New 

^t'  Smo  Pines's  translation  of  The  Guide  .o  the  Perplexed  (Ch- 

Tl-  'än'lhe  Boraito  De-Niddoh.  see  C.  M.  Horowitz.  Tose/ta  Attiko.o  4 

and  5  (1980)  and  Encycloped.a  Juda.ca.  ^^^  psychological  and 

12.  For  some  modern  attempts  to  ^ea'     .     ,  ,e,vish  Woman  m 

SP  ritual  value  of  the  laws  °   "'^tes  iras  a  way^^^^ 

Jewish  Law,  Chap  19.  ^e^elman  sees  t  as  a  w  y        ^^  ,  ^^^  ^^ 

Presence  into  a  sphere  where  ""  f '' ^J.^nJ  ,he  couple  to  see  each 
way  to  enrich  the  mar.ta  ^«>«''«"^„^'P  "^s  S  Orthodox  writers  have 
other  as  spiritual  not  only  ^«''"«»^'^^d Talue  of  the  laws  of  niddah 
also  argued  for  the  medical  «ou^dness  ana  f^,  »he  low  mci- 

(especially  claiming  that  the.r  £^^7"^^^^  .  for  example.  Moses  Tend- 
dence  ofcervical  Cancer  amongewishwomenh  presenting  the  laws  of 
1er   Pardes  Rimonim.  For  another  P^.^P^.^^^^^^^^  marital  Ideals, 

n'ddah  in  terms  of  »^eir  effect  on  mar.a^  l^e  and  J^^^      ^^^  ^  f^^,^-,,, 

see  Norman  Lamm.  A  Hedge  o/  S^jf'^^^  Greenberg,  On  Women  and 

Orthodox  analysis  of  the  »^^,«  °*  "i^T^^^^^^  and  ßeginnings.   For  a 

Judaism,  and  Adler, 'Turn  ah  and  Taharc^h.fc      ^^^  ^^^.^  Appe  bäum 

psychological  analysis  of  the  laws^^^^^     ^^^,^  .^  ,  Law,"  Journal 

"Psychosomatic  Aspecis  oi  mc  55-70. 

of  Psychology  and  Judaism  2,  no  1  (Fall  1977). 
13    See  Auerbach,  "A  Proposal. 

Chapter7.SexuaIityOufsideo/Marriage 

^  .      .*•      v\/   9   fi  resardinfi  homo- 

1967)  Chap.  5.  ,.         ^^  Yair  7akovitch,  "The  Woman's 

H^!:  inÄs^t  "^^  -  --' '  '^^«^'•• 

-3.  m  addition   an  uncle.  wife  is  a«      prohibited^  Jl^iÄsMi^ 
marrying  a  brother's  wife  'f  «jersed  «  j^„  „„  „  „y.ng  a 

levirate  marriage;  .«-^aP;-  4-  ^^^  married  Leah  and  then  her  s.ster 
wife's  sister  was  violated  by  jacoo,  wi 
Rachel.  .  .    daußhter  is  considered  a  special  act  ot 

4.  In  fact  marrying  a  sister  sdaugmer 
kindness  and  merit;  see  Yevamot  62b. 
5    Translation  by  Shlomo  Pines. 


ii 


278 


NOTES  TO  PAGES  181-198 


6  See  a  similar  argument  on  the  function  of  these  laws  as  a  way  of 
taking  in  female  relatives  from  outside  the  immediate  family  in  Stephen 
E.  Bigger,  *The  Family  Laws  of  Leviticus  18  in  Their  Setting."  Journal  o/ 
BiblicaJLiterature  98  (1979):  187-203. 

7  See  David  Biale's  discussion  of  the  impact  of  early  marriage  on  the 
adoiescence  of  men  in  eastern  Europe  in  ChiJdhood  Marriage  and  tha 
Family  in  (he  Eastern  European  Community  (American  Jewish  Commit- 

tee,  1983). 

8.  FordetailsseeLouisEpstein.SexLmvs.pp.  119-123. 

9  For  example.  Judges  19.  1  Samuel  25,  2  Samuel  11.  For  a  detailed 
discussion  of  this  thesis,  see  Zakovitch.  'The  Woman's  Rights,'*  esp.  pp. 

32—41 

10  I  am  indebted  for  the  analysis  of  the  sotah  passage  to  Prof.  Jacob 
Milgrom,  Near  Eastern  Studies  Department,  University  of  California  at 

11.  The  subsequent  discussion  in  Sotah  outlines  the  specific  rules 
pertaining  to  the  conduct  of  the  ordeal  and  the  husband's  behavior. 

12.  For  further  discussion,  see  Epstein,  Sex  Laws,  Chap.  9. 

13.  Seeibid.,esp.  p.  212. 

14  The  Halakhah  tries  to  protect  the  children  of  an  adulteress  by  a 
general  ruling  that  the  children  are  considered  to  be  the  children  of  the 
husband  (not  the  lover).  even  if  the  woman  testifies  otherwise  (Sotah 
27a).  This  rule  is  questioned  only  in  the  case  of  a  woman  who  has  com- 
mitted  adultery  repeatedly  (Shulhan  Arukh.  Even  Ha-Ezer  4:15.  29). 

15  See  Louis  Epstein,  Sex  Laws,  Chap.  7;  and  E.  G.  Ellinson,  Nisu  in 
She-Lo  Ke-Dai  Moshe  Ve-Visraol  (Tel  Aviv,  1975),  Part  1. 

16.  See  Ellinson,  Nisu'in,  Part  2,  Chap.  7. 

17  The  crucial  distinction  between  actual  intercourse  and  olher  sex- 
ual acts  is  also  evident  in  the  discussion  of  the  mother's  fondling  her  son 
in  Sanhedrin  69b  and  from  sevcjral  discussions  in  the  Talmud  of  the  exact 
degree  of  penile  penetration  which  constitutes  intercourse  (bi'ah),  for 
example,  in  Yevamot  55a-b  and  Sotah  4a. 

18.  Two  males  may  also  sleep  together  since  homosexuality  is  nor- 
mally  not  suspected  among  Jews;  however,  they  should  not  sleop  facing 
eachother  (Kiddushin  82a).  . 

19.  On  homosexuality  in  tho  Halakhah,  see  Norman  Lamm,  Judaism 
and  the  Modern  Attitüde  to  Homosexuality,"  Encyclopedia/udaica  1974 
Vearbook  (Jerusalem.  1974),  pp.  194-205. 

Chapter  8.  Procrcntion  and  Contraceplion 

1  The  most  comprehensive  treatment  of  the  issues  of  procreation. 
contraception.  and  abortion  in  the  Halakhah  is  David  M.  Feldman,  Mari- 


NOTESTO  PAGES  198-214 


279 


T      'ch  I  aw  (New  York, 
,  ,  Ralalions    Birth  Conlrol  ""^  Abortion  In  le^iJ^^^^^^p^aslÄB 

!l  mebrew  with  English  abstracts)  ^  j|977)^  ^„  hasizes  the 


rVaoter  9  on  abortion  is  based  on  ■^•fj"  ^^j^^i^ed  in  the  Tal- 
irTechni3rSeUn,and^^^^^^^^^^^^^ 

.  different  passage  n  Genes^  l  35  :  U  where  .t  is  ad 


2.  Technicaiiy  uic  ^w -       p         jg  (Gen.  a  :  i )  wu«=.<= "  •-  -  ._ 

Ja  irom .f £-'„rr:Ju  as'hom 'cenesis  35  j«"''-,.  .s^-d^ 
lo  Noah  and  hjs  f"'-'  ,  .  jj  u  inlerpreled  as  a  Wessing 
dressed  to  lacob.  Genes«  1  ■  nivorce  "Theje^lsh 

•»Tr/sTle,  ShiW,  -impo-ence  as  .  Cound  fo,  D.vorca. 

-^'«ptrn^-ent  of  the  Sages  is  actuaUy  ope^  las^Ä^ 

p^Lüorthat  it  is -tually  fVl'tr^onU^Z^^rT^^^ 
'*'^^"tnT•.he^net  weU  as  the  other  ^^'l^^'SSZ.  eleven 

'*''Tmanner'  only  refers  to  the  '"'"°':  f  ."J'two  women  mentioned. 
usual  manner    ui»j  ,       y  jq  the  hrsi  lyvu  Gemara  er 

»"S""=  SÄttd^an,  M0H,o,  -..»^^^.P--;,,,  „ 

::S.=ä&jCH'P.a.»,  «..od  ».  ^^ 

;:  r  :'=nÄ»si.n  o,  »^^^^^^^^^^ 

14.  Translatedinibid..p.l9''- 


:.J4^J^'-  ' 


280 


NOTES  TO  PAGES  215-232 


NOTES  TO  PAGES  233-256 


281 


I 


15.  Translated  in  ibid.,  pp.  225-26  (I  have  made  a  few  modifications 
in  the  translation  forgreater  clarity). 

16.  Translated  in  ibid.,  p.  211. 


Chapfer  9.  Abortion 

• 

1.  The  most  extensive  treatment  of  abortion  in  the  Halakhah  is  David 
M.  Feldman,  Marita]  Relaüons,  Birih  Conirol  and  AboTÜon  in  /evvisli  Law 
(New  York.  1974),  Part  5.  There  have  been  many  other  articles  written  on 
the  subject.  Some  articles  in  English  are:  David  Bleich,  Contempornry 
Halakhic  Problems  (Nev^  York,  1977),  chapter  XV:  325-371,  and  Fred 
Rosner.  "The  Jewish  Attitüde  toward  Abortion,"  TradHion  10  (Winter 
1968):  48-71;  Victor  Aptov^itzer.  "The  Status  of  the  Embryo  in  Jewish 
Criminal  Law,"  ]ew\sh  QuarterJy  Review  15  (1924):  84-118;  G.  B.  Hali- 
bard,  "Abortion  in  Jev^ish  Law:  A  Recent  Judgment,"  The  ]ew\sh  Lciw 
Annuai  3  (1980):  139-53;  Robert  Gordis,  "Abortion:  Major  Right  or  Basic 
Wrong?"  Midstream  24:  3  (March  1978):  44-49.  See  also  several  articles 
in  a  Symposium  conducted  in  SWma,  Dec.  9  and  23, 1977,  Blu  Greehberg, 
On  Women  and  ]uda\sm:  A  View  jvom  Tradition  (Philadelphia,  1981), 
Chap.  6,  "The  Issue  of  Abortion."  In  Hebrew  see  D.  M.  Maeir,  "Abortion 
and  Halakhah:  New  Issues,"  Dinei  Yisvael  7  (1976):  137-150;  Moshe 
Yonah  Ha-Levi  Zweig.  "On  Abortion,"  Noam  7  (1964):  35-56;  Issar  Ye- 
hudah  Unterman,  "On  the  Question  of  Danger  to  Life  and  a  Fetus,"  Noam 
6  (1963):  1-11;  and  Menahem  Rakover,  "Bibliography  on  Abortion  in 
Hebrew  Law,"  Beri'ut  Ha-Tzibbur  17,  no.  4  (1975):  305//. 

2.  On  abortion  in  Christianity,  see  John  T.  Noonan,  Jr.  (ed.),  The  Moral- 
iiy  of  Abortion:  Legal  and  Uistorical  Perspectives  (Cambridge,  Mass., 
1970),  pp.  1-59. 

3.  This  of  course  is  also  a  problem  with  adults,  as  in  the  celebrated 
case  of  Karen  Ann  Quinlan.  However,  in  the  case  of  a  newborn  in  the 
Halakhah  the  considerations  are  somewhat  different  because  of  the  ruling 
that  a  neonate  is  not  considered  bar  kayma  (viable)  until  it  reaches  its 
thirtieth  day. 

4.  For  further  discussion  of  the  nature  of  mental  anguish  as  a  hazard 
for  the  mother  which  Warrants  abortion,  see  Moshe  Spero.  "Psychiatric 
Hazard  in  the  Halakhic  Disposition  toward  Abortion:  The  Role  of  the 
Caseworker."  Journal  of  Jewish  Communal  Services  53:2  (Winter  1976): 
155-164. 

5.  Translation  by  Feldman,  Marital  Relations,  p.  276. 

6.  For  a  detailed  discussion  of  this  complex  issue,  see  Feldman,  Mari- 
ta! Relations,  Chap.  15. 

7.  Issar  Unterman,  "ße-Inyan  Pikuah  Nefesh  shel  übar,"  Noam  6 
(1964):  1. 


8.  For  further  discussion  of  the  analogy  of  the  ship's  cargo  as  **pur- 
suer,"  see  Feldman,  Marita]  Relations,  Chap.  15. 

9.  Menahem  Elon,  **Hapalah  MeJakhutit,"  Ha-Encyclopedia  ha-Ivrit, 
Suppl.  vol.  2  (Tel  Aviv,  1983). 

10.  Moshe  Yonah  Ha-Levi  Zweig,  "On  Abortion"  (Hebrew),  Noam  7 
(1964):  36-56. 

11.  Yehiel  J.  Weinberg,  "Abortion  in  a  Sickly  Woman"  (Hebrew). 
Noam  9  (1966):  193-215. 

Chapter  10;  Rape 

1.  See  Susan  Brownmiller,  Against  Our  Will:  Men,  Women,  and  Rape 
(New  York,  1975). 

2.  In  recent  years  there  have  been  a  few  cases  of  rape  in  Israel  among 
immigrant  Georgian  Jews  where  it  became  apparent  that  rape  was  being 
used  as  a  way  of  forcing  a  marriage  against  parental  wishes.  In  some  cases 
such  rape  was  a  way  of  forcing  marriage  against  the  civil  laws  which 
prohibit  marriage  before  the  age  of  seventeen  for  women  and  eighteen  for 
men. 

3.  For  a  detailed  discussion  of  the  laws  pertaining  to  the  captive 
woman,  see  Gerald  Blidstein.  "The  Status  of  Women  Captives  and  Con- 
verts  in  Medieval  Halakhah"  (Hebrew).  Hebrew  Law  AnnuaJ  3-4  (1976- 
1977):  35-116.  See  also  Meir  HaMeiri,  Ezrat  Nashim,  Chap.  4,  who  ana- 
lyzes  the  Halakhah  in  regard  to  women  held  captive  in  concentration 
camps  and  rules  leniently  that  they  are  all  permitted  to  their  husbands, 
Israelites  and  kohanim  alike. 

4.  See,  forexample,  Ketubot  65b  and  Avodah  Zarah  17a. 

5.  For  further  discussion  of  rape  in  the  Halakhah,  see  Ben  Zion  Scher- 
schevsky.  Dinei  Mishpahah  (Jerusalem,  1967),  pp.  49-51  and  316;  and 
Louis  M.  Epstein,  Sex  Laws  and  Customs  in  Judaism  (New  York.  1967), 
Chap.  8. 

Epilogue 

1.  Rachel  Adler.  "The  Jew  Who  Wasn't  There,"  first  published  in 
Davka  (Summer  1971):  7-11.  reprinted  in  On  Being  a  Jewish  Feminist, 
edited  by  Susannah  Heschel  (New  York.  1983),  pp.  12-18.  Fora  similar 
viewpoint  from  a  historical  perspective,  see  Paula  Hyman,  "The  Other 
Half:  Women  in  the  Jewish  Tradition,"  Conservative  Judaism  26: 4  (Sum- 
mer, 1972):  14-21  and  her  "The  Jewish  Family:  Looking  for  a  Usable 
Fast,"  reprinted  in  Heschel.  pp.  19-28. 

2.  For  a  bibliography  (including  English  publications  only).  see  Aviva 
Cantor.  Bibliography  on  the  Jewish  Woman  (Fresh  Meadows,  N.Y.,  1979), 
esp.  Sect.  3;  and  the  more  extensive  Ora  Hamelsdorf  and  Sandra  Adels- 


I 


282 


NOTES  TO  PAGES  257-263 


NOTES  TO  PAGE  263 


283 


berg,  Women  and  Jewish  Law:  Bibliography  (Fresh  Meadows,  N.Y., 
1980).  For  more  recent  material,  see  articles  in  Journals  such  as  Conserva- 
tive  Judaism,  Judaism,  Liliih,  Moment,  Present  Tense,  Response,  Sh'mn, 
and  Tradition. 

3.  See  Shulamit  Aloni,  The  Status  Quo:  From  a  State  ofLaw  toa  State 
ofUalakhah  (Hebrew)  (Tel  Aviv,  1970). 

4.  For  the  recent  literature  on  these  issues,  see  the  refenuices  cited  in 
the  notes  to  Chaps.  3,  4,  8,  and  9,  above. 

5.  See  Central  Conference  of  American  Rabbis  (CCAR),  "Report  of  the 
Committee  on  Ordination  of  Women,"  CCAR  Vearbook  66  (1956):  9-93; 
and  Sally  Priesand  (the  first  wonian  rabbi  ordained  by  the  Reform  move- 
ment), Judaism  and  the  New  Woinan  (New  York,  1975).  There  has  be(jn  a 
Plethora  of  articles  on  the  issiie  of  Ordination  of  women  in  the  Conserva- 
tive  movement.  See  Hamelsdorf  and  Adelsberg,  Jewish  Women  and  Jew- 
ish Law  (Fresh  Meadows,  1980),  passim.  Some  of  the  most  significant 
publications  are  in  the  notes  to  Chap.  1,  "Women  and  the  Mitzvol,"  n.  20. 

6.  On  women  as  witnesses,  see  Moshe  Meiselman,  Jewish  Woman  in 
Jewish  Law  (New  York,  1978),  Chap.  13. 

7.  David  Bleich,  "Halakhah  as  an  Absolute,'*  Judaism  29  (1980);'30- 
37. 

8.  Eugene  Mihaly,  "Halakhah  Is  Absolute  and  Passe,"  Judaism  29 
(1980):  68-75.  An  extreme  feminist  view  is  that  of  Rosalyn  Lacks,  Women 
and  Judaism:  Myth,  History,  and  StruggJe  (New  York,  1980). 

9.  See  Meiselman,  Jewish  Woman  in  Jewish  Law,  Introduction. 

10.  Reuven  P.  Bulka,  "Women's  Role:  Some  Ultimate  Concerns,"  Tra- 
dition 17,  no.  4  (Spring  1979):  38. 

11.  Saul  Berman,  'The  Status  of  Women  in  Halakhic  Judaism,"  Tradi- 
tion 14,  no.  2  (Fall  1973):  5-28.  Reprinted  (abridged)  in  Koltun,  The 
Jewish  Woman,  pp.  114-28. 

12.  Ibid.,  in  Koltun,  pp.  122,  123. 

13.  Eliezer  Berkowitz,  Crisis  and  Faith  (New  York,  1976),  pp.  97-121. 

14.  Robert  Gordis,  **A  Dynamic  Halakhah:  Principles  and  Procedures 
in  Jewish  Law,"  Judaism  28  (Summer  1979). 

15.  David  M.  Feldman,  Maritnl  Relations,  Birth  Control  and  Abortion 
in  Jewish  Law  (New  York,  1974);  and  bis  "Women's  Role  and  Jewish 
Law,"  Conservative  Judaism  26  (Summer  1972):  29-39. 

16.  Blu  Greenberg,  On  Women  and  Judaism:  A  View  from  Tradition 
(Philadelphia,  1981).  See  also  her  "Feminism:  Is  It  Good  for  the  Jews?" 
Hadassah  Magazine  57:  8  (April  1976):  10-11,  30-34;  and  her  "Women's 
Liberation  and  Jewish  Law,"  Lilith  1,  no.  1  (Fall  1976):  16-19,  42-43. 

17.  Cynthia  Ozick,  "Notes  Towards  Finding  the  Right  Question,"  re- 
printed inHeschel(ed.),  On  ßeinga  Jewish  Feminist,  pp.  120-51. 

18.  Ibid.,  p.  142. 

19.  Ibid.,  p.  150. 


20.  Ibid. 

21.  Ibid. 

22.  Adler, *Thele\v\VhoWasnH There."  inHeschel,pp.  13-14. 

23.  Ibid..  p.  17. 

24.  Jacob  Neusner  has  argued  in  many  places  Ihat  the  Mishnah  is 
really  ahistorical  and  does  not  relale  closely  to  the  Bible.  It  is  the  Gemara 
which  makes  the  connection  to  the  biblical  sources  with  its  typical  inves- 
tigation  of  vvhat  the  biblical  source  is  for  each  mishnaic  ruling.  See  his 
"Halakhah  and  History."  Judaism  29  (1980):  52-56. 


i , 


HALAKHIC  SOURCES 


Note:  This  list  of  halakhic  sources  includes  only  the  major  texts  cited  in 
this  book. 

Bible 

Medieval  biblical  commentaries: 

Rashi  (Rabbi  Solomon  ben  Isaac,  llth  Century) 

Abraham  Ibn  Ezra  (12th  Century) 

Ramban  (Rabbi  Moses  ben  Nachman,  Nachmanides,  13th  Century) 

Mishnah(ca.  200C.E.) 

Commentary  on  the  Mishnah,  Moses  ben  Maimon  (Maimonides,  12th 

Century) 

Talmud  (consists  of  the  Mishnah  and  the  Gemara-commentary  on  the 
Mishnah) 

Jerusalem  (or  Palestinian)  Talmud  (ca.  400  C.E.) 
Babylonian  Talmud  (ca.  500  C.E.) 
Medieval  talmudic  commentaries: 
Rashi 
Tosafot  (a  school  of  French  and  German  commentators,  12th-13th 

centuries) 
Se/er  Ha-Yashar,  Rabbenu  Tam  (Rashi's  grandson,  a  member  of  the 

Tosafot  school,  12th  Century) 
Yam  Shel  Shlomo,  Solomon  Luria  (16th  Century) 

Codes  and  Commentaries 

Mishneh  Torah,  Moses  ben  Maimon  (Maimonides) 
Se/er  Mordecai,  Mordecai  ben  Hillel  (13th  Century) 
Se/er  Mitzvot  Katan.  Isaac  of  Corbeil  (1 3th  Century) 
Se/er  Abudarham,  David  Abudarham  (14th  Century) 


285 


i  r.- 


-.  :    t 


1 

< 

Ji 


286 


WOMEN  AND  JEWISH  LAW 


Tur  f  Arba'ah  TurimJ.  Jacol)  hon  Asher  (14th  Century) 

Bei  Yosef,  Joseph  Karo  (KUh  Century) 

Darkhei  Moshe,  Moses  Issorles  (16th  Century) 
Shuihan  Arukh,  Joseph  Karo 

Glosses  of  Rema,  Moses  Isseries 

Magen  Avraham,  Abraham  Gumbiner  (17th  Century) 

Responsa  (rabbinical  ruiings  on  specific  cases) 
Ezrat  Nashim.  Meir  HaMeiri  (20th  Century) 
Hatam  So/er.  Moses  Sofer  (ll)lli  Century) 
Havat  Yair,  Yair  Bachrach  (17th  Century) 
Hemdat  Shiomo.  Solomon  Lifschutz  (19th  Century) 
Igrot  Moshe,  Moshe  Feinstein  (20th  Century) 
Maharam  Rothenburg,  Meir  of  Rothenburg  (13th  Century) 
Mishpetei  UzieJ,  Ben  Zion  IJziel  (20th  Century) 
Noda  ßi-Yehudah,  Yehezkel  Landau  (18th  Century) 
She'elat  Ya'avetz,  Jacob  Emden  (18th  Century) 
Tshuvot,  Hai  Gaon  (lOth  Century) 

Tshuvot  Eashi,  Solomon  ben  Isaac  (Rashi,  llth  Century) 
Tzitz  EJiezer,  Eliezer  Judah  Waidenberg  (20th  Century) 

Non-legal  Literature 

Ba'alei  Ha-Nefesh,  Abraham  ben  David  (Rabad,  12th  Century) 
Iggeret  Ha-Kodesh,  ascribed  to  Nachmanides  (see  above) 
Seferliasidim,  Judah  He-Hasid  (12th  Century) 


1 


GLOSSARY 


agunah  (pl.  agunot)  A  woman  who  is  "bound"  in  marriage  to  a  husband 
with  whom  she  no  longer  lives.  Generally,  the  husband  has  either 
disappeared,  died  without  direct  witnesses  to  bis  death,  or  refuses  to 
grant  bis  wife  a  divorce  even  though  they  are  separated.  An  agunah  is 

unable  to  remarry. 
aliyah,  aliyah  la-Torah  (pl.  aliyot]  Being  "called  up  to  the  Torah."  A 

symbolic  reading  of  the  Torah  by  members  of  the  congregation;  (the 

person  who  has  an  aliyah  usually  reads  only  the  blessings  while  a 

cantor/reader  chants  the  actual  Torah  portion). 
Amora  (pl.  Amoraim)  Rabbi(s)  of  the  Talmudic  period  who  are  cited  in 

theGemara*. 
bet  din  A  Jewish  court  ruling  according  to  the  Halakhah*. 
Bet  Hiliel  An  early  first  Century  school  of  Tannaim*  who  followed  the 

teachings  of  Hiliel:  traditionally  thought  of  as  more  "liberal"  than  the 

competing  tradition  of  Bet  Shammai*. 
ße^  Shammai  A  school  of  Tannaim*  following  the  teachings  of  Shammai. 
ervah  A  sexual  transgression:  a  violation  of  one  of  the  prohibited  sexual 

relations. 
Gcmara  The  Talmudic  commentary  on  the  Mishnah*. 
gel  A  Jewish  writ  of  divorce. 
Halakhah  The  corpus  of  traditional  Jewish  law;  a  specific  ruling  within 

Jewish  law. 
halitzah  The  ceremony  in  which  a  Jevir*  renounces  bis  Obligation  to 

marry  his  yevamah*  and  releases  her  to  marry  anyoneof  herchoosing. 
hashhatat  zera  "Destruction  [or  spilling)  of  seed":  ejaculation  of  semen 

outside  the  vagina. 
herem  A  ban  of  excommunication  from  the  Jewish  Community. 
ketubah  The  Jewish  marriage  contract  given  by  the  groom  to  the  bride 

specifying  his  obligations  during  the  marriage  and  in  the  event  of  its 

dissolution. 


287 


288 


WOMEN  AND  JEWISH  LAW 


kiddushin  Betrothai:  the  actual  legal  act  effecting  marriage. 

levir  The  brother  of  a  married  man  who  dies  without  children,  upon 

whom  the  Obligation  of  leviraia  marriage*  falls. 
levirate  marriage  The  marriage  of  a  widow  whose  husband  died  child- 

less  to  one  of  her  deceased  husband's  brothers. 
mamzer  A  bastard:  the  child  of  an  adulterous  union. 
midrash  The  genre  of  rabbinic  commentary  that  expands  and  explicates 

the  biblical  text.  In  this  book,  as  in  many  other  works,  the  term  is  used 

to  refer  to  the  non-legal  commeiilaries  (midrash  aggaddah). 
mikveh  A  ritual  bath  used  for  puriiication. 
minyan  A  group  of  ten  people  (Iraditionally  adult  males)  constituting  a 

quorum  for  public  prayer. 
Mishnah  The  oral  tradition  codified  in  200  C.E.  under  the  direction  of 

Rabbi  Judah  Ha-Nasi. 
niddah  A  menstruating  woman. 
nisu'in  The  ceremony  marking  the  beginning  of  married  life  signified  by 

the  huppah  (canopy)  and  specilied  blessings. 
onah  The  sexual  rights  of  a  married  woman;  the  marital  obligations  of  a 

husband. 
responsa  Collections  of  legal  opinions  written  by  rabbis  in  response  to 

questions  about  actual  cases. 
shiddukhin  An  engagement;  generally  a  prerequisite  for  kiddushin*. 
takanah  (pl.  takanot]  Rabbinic  legislation  in  the  post-Talniudic  period 

that  can  alter  or  amend  the  law. 
Talmud  A  compilation  of  the  Mishnah*  and  Gemara*  codified  in  a  Baby- 

lonian  version  circa  500  C.E.  and  a  Palestinian  Version  (the  Jerusalem 

Talmud)  in  the  preceding  Century.  (Unless  otherwise  stated,  all  refer- 

ences  to  the  Talmud  in  this  book  are  to  the  Babylonian  Talmud.) 
Tanna  (pl.  Tannaim]  Rabbi(s)  contributing  to  the  oral  tradition  codified 

in  the  Mishnah*. 
yevamah  A  woman  whose  husband  dies  without  children  who  is  subject 

to  the  levirate  marriage*. 
yibum  A  levirate  marriage*. 
zenuf  Sexual  promiscuity  or  prostitution. 
zonah  A  prostitute;  a  woman  who  engages  in  zenut*. 


INDEX 


Abortion:  accidental,  219-20;  in  Chris- 
tianity.  220-21;  elective,  219,  225- 
2»,  234-38;  and  law  of  Gentiles, 
227-29;  as  murder,  229-30,  232, 
235,  238;  problem  of  rodef,  229-34; 
therapeulic,  221-22,  228,  230-31, 

238 
Abraham  ben  David  (Rabad),  6, 132- 

34,136,253-54 
Abiidarham,  David  ben  Joseph,  13-14 
Adler,  Rachel.  256,  261,  263-64 
Adultery,  adulterous  marriage,  33, 105, 

155, 175, 183-89;  and  abortion,  226 
Agunah.  102-13,  260;  definition  of, 

102;  as  result  of  early  marriage,  68 
Akiva,  Rabbi,  163,  245;  on  adultery, 

189;  on  divorce,  74;  marriage  of,  39; 

on  Prostitution,  191 
AJiya  Ja-Torah,  25,  28-29,  41,  264 
Annulment  of  marriage,  57-58;  in  case 

ofagunah,  109-10,112 
Asher  ben  Yehiel  (Rosh).  92-93, 103 
Ashi,Rav,57 
Assuming  obligations,  12,  41-43,  264. 

See  also  Mitzvah 

Ba'al  keri  (nocturnal  emission),  65 
Bachrach,Yair.  226-27 
Bais  Yaakov  schools,  38 
Baraita  De-Niddah,  169-72 
Barren  woman:  sex  with,  216-17 
Bastard  (mamzer),  101, 103, 105, 190, 

227 
Ben  Azzai,  33-36 
Benyamin  Ze'ev,  93-94 
Berkowitz,  Eliezer,  260-61 
Berman,Saul,  259-60 

Bcruriah,  35 

Bestiality,  155 

Bet  din  (rabbinic  court):  power  to  com- 


pel  husband  to  divorce  wife,  97, 99, 
100.  See  also  Court 
Bet  Hillel.  47,  73-78, 129 

Bei  Midrash.  39 

Betrothal  (kiddushin).  46-49,  53;  in 

Bible,  45-47;  impmper,  53-61 .  See 

also  Marriage,  kiddushin 
Bet  Shammai,  47.  73-78, 87, 129 
Bi'ah.  See  Sexual  intercourse 
Bleich,  David,  258 
Blessing,  12. 17-19 
Blood,  152-53;  purity  of .  71 ;  of  virgin- 

ity.68 
Bulica,  Reuven,259 


Child,  children.  16-18,  26-27,  30-31, 

36,  64,  201-2.  214-15.  217-18 
Childbearing:  and  curse  of  Eve.  123-24 
Childbirth.  151-52.  218.  223-24 
Christianity:  and  polygyny.  50;  pmhibi- 

tionon  divorce.  71 
Circumcision  (brit  milah).  10,  29-30, 

63 
Cohabitation  (pilagshut),  111.  See  also 

Concubine 
Commandment.  See  Mitzvah 
Companionship:  as  reason  to  marry,  62 
Conception,  147, 173-74,  204-5,  220 
Concubine  (pilegesh),  83 
Conditional  divorce,  108-9 
Conditional  marriage,  59, 110 
Conjugal  duties.  See  Onah 
Conservative  movement,  25, 110,  257- 

58,261 
Contraception.  202-18 
Court,  non-Jewish  or  civil,  97-100, 

110-11 
"Cup  of  mots"  (kos  ikarin).  See  Stcril- 

ization 


289 


/.  '  25^15 


s//. 


i 


V 


f>^JHZi€^ 


Feminism: 
Is  It  Good  for  the  Jews? 


HÖHERE  is  much  to  be  learned  from  the  women's  movement  that 
-■■  can  enhance  the  quality  of  our  hves  as  Jews.  For  feminists  there 
is  much  to  be  gained  from  a  serious  regard  of  traditional  Jewish 
values.  Yet  at  this  point  the  possibility  of  a  positive  relationship 
between  the  two  seems  improbable,  if  not  impossible.  Traditional 
Judaism  has  written  off  feminism  as  an  extremist  movement,  a 
temporary  cultural  fad.  Feminists  have  reviled  rabbis  as  women- 
haters,  male  chauvinists,  or,  at  best,  men  with  ancient  hang-ups. 
A  religion  and  an  ideology  that  under  happier  circumstances  might 
have  nurtured  each  other  instead  have  become  antagonists.  Why? 
The  aims,  achievements,  and  to  some  extent  even  the  processes 
of  feminism  have  been  revolutionary.  The  fact  that  it  has  been  a 
bloodless  revolution  leads  some  people  to  dismiss  feminism  as  a 
petulant,  middle-class  women's  hobby.  Regardless,  the  women's 
movement  has  profoundly  altered  social  attitudes  toward  women 
and  the  way  women  think  about  themselves.  Increasingly,  public 
philosophy  and  policy  assume  that  women  are  füll  human  beings 
with  a  capacity  for  achievement  in  all  spheres  in  which  men  func- 
tion.  Women  are  no  longer  simply  adjuncts  of  the  men  in  their 
lives.  Our  secular,  legal,  social,  and  educational  Systems  are  under 
constant  pressure  to  include  women  as  equals;  our  religious  insti- 
tutions,  however,  lag  far  behind  in  the  process  of  recognition. 

Throughout  the  centuries,  Judaism  generated  revolutionary  ethi- 
cal  teachings.  Why  will  it  not  now  incorporate  the  lessons  of 
feminism?  Equality  in  various  spheres  long  has  been  fundamental 
to  Judaism;  indeed,  biblical  teaching  enjoins  equality  before  law. 


ON     WOMEN    AND     JUDAISM 


equal  ownership  of  property,  equality  of  all  men.^  Logically,  there- 
fore,  should  not  feminist  goals  be  embraced  by  Judaism  today  as  a 


j=r-.^-=- 


chiüenges  oi  teminism.  Tnie,  Reform  Judaism  has   taken  many 
Steps  in  this  direction,  beginning  with  the  call  by  the  Breslau  Con- 
ference in  1846  for  füll  equality  of  men  and  women  in  all  areas  of 
religion.  This  equalization  remained  largely  formal,  however,  for 
little  of  substance  and  leadership  was   given  to  women.   Reform 
Judaism  made  fewer  religious  demands  upon  both  men  and  women, 
and  the  changes  it  internalized  tended  to  flow  more  from  a  simple 
adoption  of  liberal  or  modern  values  than  from  Jewish  considera- 
tions.  Neither  Reconstructionism,  which  pioneered  in  bat  mitzvah 
and  in  calling  women  to  the  Torah,  nor  Reform  accepted  women 
for  rabbinic  training  until  the  women's  movement  pushed  them 
across  the  line  in  the  last  decade.  Even  within  these  groups  there  is 
still  significant  lay  resistance.  Basically,  then,  the  response  of  the 
Jewish  Community  can  be  characterized  as  follows:  the  more  tradi- 
tional  the  Jewish  Community  has  been — or  the  more  conserving  its 
nature   (including   elements   within   Reform)— the   more   likely   it 
tends  to  resist  challenges  from  feminist  ideology.  This  is  as  true  of 
women  in  the  Jewish  Community  as  it  is  of  men. 

There  are  several  explanations  for  this  response.  First,  Jewish 
women,  on  the  whole,  have  been  treated  well  by  Jewish  men,  with 
strong  cultural  values  sanctioning  such  behavior.  As  a  result,  they 
have  been  content  to  live  within  the  traditional  religious  and  social 
roles  that  have  been  assigned  to  them.  In  practice  these  meshed 
rather  well:  freedom  from  communal  religious  responsibilities,  such 
as  synagogue  prayers,  enabled  women  better  to  fulfill  the  familial 
role  that  Jewish  society  had  ordained  for  them. 

The  second  reason— and  here  we  confront  a  factor  more  funda- 
mentally  resistant  to  change— is  the  halakhic  model  of  Judaism. 
Halakhah,  the  body  of  Jewish  religious  law,  includes  the  religious 
institutionalization  of  sexual  and  social  Status.  In  other  words,  what 

was  a  sociological  truth  about  women  in  all  previous  generations 

that  they  were  the  "second  sex"— was  codified  in  many  minute 


Feminism:  Is  It  Good  for  the  Jews? 


ways  into  Halakhah  as  religioethical  concepts,  binding  upon  future 
generations  as  well.  What  often  is  overlooked  today  is  that,  over 
the  ages,  Jewish  tradition,  by  and  large,  has  upgraded  the  Status  of 
women.  It  is  true  that  in  some  centuries  women  were  set  firmly 
into  disadvantageous  positions.  Hut  for  the  most  part,  as  the  Jew- 
ish people  moved  through  history,  Jewish  law  granted  increasing 
Protections,  safeguards,  and  even  expansions  of  the  rights  of 
women.  Thus,  Halakhah  influenced  and  responded  to  changes  in 
society  at  large.  One  of  the  virtues  of  the  halakhic  system  is  that 
it  has  tried  to  maintain  the  balance  of  needs  between  Community 
and  individual,  Jew  and  non-Jew,  authority  and  freedom,  religion 
and  society.  In  this  Century,  however,  halakhic  authorities  have 
been  concentrated  overwhelmingly  in  the  change-resistant  sector 
of  society. 

The  third  reason  for  the  traditional  Jewish  resistance  to  the 
feminist  challenge — although  this  is  not  always  openly  articulated 
— derives  from  the  widespread  fear  that  feminist  ideology  poses 
an  underlying  threat  to  Jewish  survival.  Not  lost  on  today's  Jewish 
leadership  is  the  fact  that  modernism  has  taken  a  great  toll  on  the 
Jewish  faithfui — and  so  may  feminism,  the  reasoning  goes.  Whether 
consciously  or  subconsciously,  Jewish  leadership  is  fearful  of  expos- 
ing traditional  Jewish  attitudes  toward  women  to  the  claims  of 
women's  liberation  movements.  This  fear  is  not  completely  invalid, 
nor  is  it  restricted  to  the  Orthodox  sector.  But  feminism  will  not 
disappear  by  simply  ignoring  it  or  rejecting  it  as  dangerous.  Rather, 
the  dangers  should  be  identified  and  guarded  against,  within  the 
context  of  a  positive  incorporation  of  the  virtues  of  feminism  into 
Jewish  life. 

Today,  while  secular  society  has  opened  up  a  new  ränge  of  real 
roles  and  psychological  expectations  to  women,  the  halakhic  Status 
and  religious  life  of  Jewish  women  remain  circumscribed.  It  is  like 
sitting  in  a  stationary  car  alongside  a  moving  one:  the  effect  upon 
one  passenger  is  a  sense  of  moving  backwards;  upon  the  other,  a 
sense  of  pulling  away,  of  losing  connection,  of  leaving  behind. 
When  confronted  with  harsh  but  often  valid  feminist  criticism, 
religious  resistance  has  taken  the  form  of  apologetics  and  defensive- 
ness.  Some  Jewish  women  accept  these  prescriptions  and  rational- 
izations;  others  move  closer  toward  the  secular  pole,  abandoning 


ON    WOMEN     AND    JUDAISM 

not  only  observance  but  all  tradlhonal  religious  values  as  well 
bince  there  is  no  currently  sanctioned  universe  of  discourse  be- 
tween  feminism  and  Judaism  regarding  the  religious  Status  of 
women,  the  feminist  movement  often  has  attacked  and  rejected 
the  basic  structures  and  life  values  that  Judaism  has  contrlbuted  to 
human  society.  This,  of  course,  leads  to  further  mutual  estrange- 
ment.  ^ 

What  is  sorely  needed  today  is  the  creation  of  a  dialectical  ten- 
s,on  between  Jewish  values  and  the  mores  of  modern  society  in 
light  of  the  far-reaching  implications  of  women's  liberation 

One  crucial  part  of  the  dialectic  is  to  measure  the  halakhic  and 
religious  Status  of  Jewish  women  against  the  feminist  notion  of 
equahty  of  women.  There  must  be  .wo-way  communication  and 
mfluence,  not  withdrawal  and   Separation.   An   authentic  Jewish 

hTII  l  rTT  '^'  '""'*  '''^  "^^  approaches  within 
Halakhah  to  absorb  and  express  women's  concems  and  must  seek 
to  imbue  women's  concems  with  Jewish  values 

There  are  several  areas  in  Jewish  religious  life  where  the  goals 
of  femmism  may  be  applied  creatively.  This  means  interaction,  not 
mere  apmg  or  assimilation.  Though  the  truth  is  painful  to  those  of 
US  who  live  by  Halakhah,  honesty  bids  us  acknowledge  that  Jewish 
women,  particularly  in  the  more  traditional  Community,  face  in- 
equahty  m  the  synagogue  and  participation  in  prayer,  in  halakhic 
educahon,  m  the  religious  courts,  and  in  areas  of  communal  leader- 
ship.  These  subjects  will  be  discussed  in  separate  essays  more  fully 
below,  but  here  I  will  touch  briefly  upon  some  possible  halakhic 
adaptations. 


Familx/  Law  and  the  Religious  Courts 

Certain  halakhic  handicaps,  which  ränge  from  denying  the  dignity 
of  women  to  causing  them  outright  grief  and  injustice,  Warrant 
.mmediate  attention.  Jewish  divorce  law,  for  instance,  requires  that 
a  husband  write  and  deliver  a  get  (a  bill  of  divorce)  to  his  wife  in 
Order  for  the  marriage  to  be  terminated.  The  effect  is  that  the  wife 
becomes  dependent  on  the  will  of  her  husband  in  matters  of  di- 
vorce. This  has  led  to  the  foUowing  problems:  instantes  of  extor- 


Feminism:  Is  It  Good  for  the  Jews? 


tion  in  the  case  of  the  recalci tränt  husband;  innocent  suffering  for 
the  agunah,  a  woman  whose  husband  is  physically  unable  to  au- 
thorize  the  get. 

In  this  generation,  sadly,  divorce  has  become  more  prevalent;  in 
contrast  to  previous  generations,  divorce  now  often  is  initiated  by 
the  wife.  Many  men,  particularly  those  who  were  socialized  to  a 
male-oriented  reality,  are  threatened  doubly  by  this.  Some  base 
men  even  make  use  of  the  prescriptions  of  Halakhah  to  spite  their 
wives,  withholding  the  get  even  after  the  civil  divorce  has  been 
granted,  for  they  know  that  a  Halakhah-abiding  woman  will  not 
be  free  to  start  a  new  life  until  she  has  the  Jewish  writ  of  divorce 
in  hand. 

A  further  problem  that  grows  out  of  this  particular  imbalance 
in  Jewish  family  law  is  the  divisiveness  among  contemporary  Jew- 
ish communities.  At  one  end  of  the  spectrum  are  those  who  have 
dropped  the  requirement  of  a  get  altogether.  A  comprehensive  Solu- 
tion, one  that  resolves  the  problem  of  recalcitrant  husbands  and 
will  be  acceptable  to  all  Jewish  denominations,  is  sorely  needed. 
Halakhic  leaders  thus  far  have  not  treated  with  sufficient  serious- 
ness  the  proposed  Solutions  that  address  these  problems. 

Jewish  religious  courts  do  not  accept  the  testimony  of  women. 
A  law  that  once  protected  women  by  preventing  them  from  being 
subpoenaed  into  the  public  sector  now  must  be  reexamined  in 
terms  of  equality  of  men  and  women.  Although  there  are  measures 
available  that  manage  to  circumvent  this  discriminatory  law,  none 
lends  honor  or  dignity  to  the  Status  of  women.  It  is  therefore  urgent 
that  contemporary  legal  and  rabbinic  scholars  search  within  the 
Halakhah,  as  did  their  predecessors  in  times  past,  for  Solutions  to 
end  these  iniquities. 


Synagogue  and  Prayer 

Although  there  is  a  ränge  of  opinion  within  the  Jewish  tradition 
with  regard  to  women's  liturgical  obligations,  none  can  dispute  the 
fact  that  women  have  fewer  prayer  responsibilities  than  do  men. 
Moreover,  in  communal  prayer,  which  is  the  preferred  form  accord- 
ing  to  tradition,  women  have  neither  responsibilities  nor  rights. 


ON     WOMEN    AND     JUDAISM 


8 


Women  are  not  counted  as  part  of  the  minyan  (prayer  quorum  of 
ten),  nor  are  they  called  up  to  the  Torah,  nor  are  they  permitted 
any  Service  leadership  role  in  the  synagogue,  such  as  rabbi,  cantor, 
or  Torah  reader.  These  exclusions  stem  largely  from  the  halakhic 
principle  that  women  are  exempt  from  affirmative  commandments 
(mitzvot)  that  must  be  performed  within  a  given  time  frame,  such 
as  morning,  afternoon,  and  evening  prayers. 

The  Talmud  offers  no  clear-cut  rationale  for  the  principJe  of 
exer:ption.  In  a  hrmizrä  sucänci  zr^ysis,  Sad  Benr^  h^  äiouTj 


— i— _r 


>.     ^ '    - 


*  ■    — 


ZO. 


^•v-x. 


do  yrlzh  a  pizucuhi  dme  h^.e  fror:!  which  wo-en  are  exeniptr 
Taken  in  its  most  charitable,  weiJ-intentioned  light,  the  pattem 
seems  to  suggest  a  desire  to  reJieve  a  woman  of  those  obligations 
that  may  create  conflict  within  her  as  a  result  of  her  domestic 
duties. 

Given  the  new  social  awareness  about  women— their  maturity, 
their  ability  to  assume  multiple  responsibilities,  and  their  increas-' 
ing  acceptance  of  roles  that  go  beyond  the  home— the  time  now 
seems  ripe  for  a  serious  reevaluation  of  the  principle  of  exemption.  , 
A  reinterpretation  of  Halakhah  may  lend  itself  to  shrinking  the 
period  of  exemption,  that  is,  to  obligate  women  to  observe  time- 
bound  mitzvot,  yet  allow  for  exemptions  during  those  years  when 
there  are  overriding  family  demands.  This  exemption  may  operate 
until  a  woman's  youngest  child   is   seven,  ten,   or   thirteen.  The 
model  to  follow  is  the  rabbinic  principle:  ha-osek  ba-mitzvah  patur 
min  ha-mitzvah  (one  who  is  occupied  in  carrying  out  one  mitzvah 
is  excused  from  the  Performance  of  another  mitzvah  within  the 
same  time  span).  At  the  very  least,  this  may  resolve  the  problem 
of  women  being  excluded  from  the  edah,  the  holy  congregation. 

Sensitive  halakhists  must  recognize  that  the  general  effect  of 
exempting  women  from  prayer  conditions  them  to  a  negative  or 
indifferent  attitude  toward  prayer  altogether.  Women  almost  never 
pray  at  home;  prayer  thus  becomes  a  function  of  intermittent  syna- 
gogue attendance,  hardly  an  incentive  to  serious  prayer.  Although 
the  Law  Committee  of  the  Conservative  Rabbinical  Assembly  did 
sanction  the  inclusion  of  women  in  the  minyan,  it  did  not  take  the 


Feminism:  Is  It  Goodfor  the  Jews? 


ri. 


necessary  further  step  of  equating  women  and  men  in  prayer  re- 
sponsibilities. In  Orthodox  synagogues,  where  the  mehitzah  (the 
partition  in  synagogues  separating  men  from  women)  tends  to  re- 
•  inforce  the  inequality  of  the  sexes  rather  than  allow  for  separate 
but  equal  prayer,  an  intermediate  and  temporary  step  may  be  the 
formation  of  a  women's  minyan.  Women  thereby  could  develop 
the  skills  for  leading  prayer,  understanding  its  Organization  and 
themes,  and  reading  the  Torah. 

Prayer  should  not  be  a  vicarious  act  but  one  of  personal  partici- 
pation.  At  present,  men  generally  perform  for  women  even  those 
liturgical  roles  that  are  binding  on  women,  such  as  kiddush,  the 
benediction  recited  over  wine  on  the  Sabbath  and  festivals,  and 
megillah,  the  reading  of  the  Book  of  Esther  on  Purim.  The  woman 
thus  practices  the  commandments  by  proxy  and  often  finds  herseif 
helpless  if  the  male  in  her  life  is  absent.  Even  if  the  proxy  Situation 
were  to  continue  to  give  satisfaction  to  Jewish  women — which  is 
unlikely  as  their  feminist  consciousness  changes — it  operates  only 
within  the  family  context.  Single  women,  divorcees,  and  widows 
cannot  enjoy  rituals  by  family  proxy  and  therefore  often  are  denied 
the  Spiritual  nourishment  such  rituals  offer.  Moreover,  such  women 
generally  are  consigned  to  tangential  roles  in  communities  that  or- 
ganize  themselves  Jewishly  around  a  synagogue. 

Life-cycle  ceremonies,  such  as  brit  and  bar  mitzvah,  generally 
have  had  no  equivalents  for  women,  particularly  in  the  traditional 
Community.  Similarly,  rituals  that  celebrate  biological  events  unique 
to  women  (such  as  childbirth  and  the  onset  of  menstruation)  are 
conspicuously  absent  in  the  tradition.  To  be  sure,  some  women, 
often  with  the  help  and  encouragement  of  men,  are  beginning  to 
develop  religious  forms  that  bind  up  their  unique  psychic  or  physi- 
cal  conditions  with  Jewish  tradition  and  the  Jewish  people.^  In  this 
regard,  however,  far  more  remains  to  be  done. 


Education 


Halakhic  education  is  the  Single  most  important  area  in  reaching 
for  the  equalization  of  women  in  the  Jewish  Community.  In  the 
Jewish  religious-legal  System,  much  leeway  for  personal  judgment 


ÜN    WOMEN    AND    JUDAISM 


L=  cvsn  to  r.Dsk:rr.  (hdaU^:  d-i£iorr--^.£ri(.  JVoir,-:  i-dsi 


10 


aa- 


Feminism :  Is  It  Cood  for  the  Jews  ? 


11 


■  -■  i  -^ 


■-  — 1 — =  .j». 


■       I      ^a. 


•  t         -^=^  — 


*2V 


and  overcome  disabiiities,  it  is  essenrid  that  the  Community  train 
women  to  become  poskot.  üntil  novv,  only  men  have  studied  and 
understood  Halakhah,  and  they  alone  have  made  all  the  decisions; 
women  have  been  kept  ignorant  of  the  processes  of  Jewish  law. 
Today,  women  must  apply  themselves  seriously  to  Jewish  scholar- 
ship.  There  must  be  Institutes  of  higher  Jewish  education,  such  as 
the  kolel  (communally  supported  talmudic  Institutes),  where  women 
can  study  uninterruptedly  with  some  degree  of  financial  security. 
Women  must   be   trained   to  make  legal  decisions  not  only  for 
women  but  for  the  entire  Jewish  Community.  It  is  to  be  hoped  that 
the  notion   of  women   rabbis   uitimately   will   be   accepted    in   all 
branches  of  Judaism,  for  women  can  make  a  valuable  contribution 
to  the  Spiritual  growth  of  the  Jewish  Community.  As  currently  struc- 
tured,  the  Community  encourages  a  brain  drain.  Jewish  women 
with  fine  minds  are  being  wooed  by  secular  society  to  make  their 
contribution  there,  while  the  door  to  Jewish  scholarship  remains, 
in  great  part,  closed.  , 


Communal  Life 

The  sociological  and  religious  limitations  imposed  upon  Jewish 
women  have  spilled  over  into  areas  of  lay  leadership  in  the  Jewish 
Community.  In  the  past,  there  were  strong  obstacles  to  women 
assuming  leadership  roles.  Increasingly,  this  resistance  is  breaking 
down,  and  greater  numbers  of  Jewish  women  are  beginning  to  play 
a  more  significant  role  in  communal  affairs.  In  many  of  the  com- 
munity's  educational  and  Philanthropie  institutions,  however,  cer- 
tainly  in  the  lay  functions  in  the  synagogue,  women  are  still  barred 
from  the  top  decision-making  posts.  It  is  as  if  the  myth  that  only 
men  are  capable  of  making  major  decisions  still  operates  in  the 
Jewish  Community,  even  as  it  is  being  destroyed  everywhere  eise. 
Jews  often  were  blessed  with  grcat  leaders;  at  other  times,  they 


^  •  I« 


m 


have  paid  a  steep  price  for  short-sighted  decisions  made  by  inade- 
quate  persons  who  assumed  power.  As  some  contemporary  com- 
munities  sadly  have  learned,  a  highly  successful  businessman  does 
not  always  have  qualities  that  are  transferable  to  communal  leader- 
ship. Both  men  and  women  must  begin  to  reformulate  in  their  col- 
lective  consciousness  exactly  what  the  requisites  are:  leadership 
abilities,  a  healthy  measure  of  common  sense,  an  abiding  concern 
for  the  fate  of  the  Jewish  people,  and  a  dedication  equal  to  the 
tasks  at  hand.  These  qualities  are  not  sex-specific.  The  question  of 
discrimination  apart,  the  Community  can  ill  afford  to  reject  one-half 
of  the  Potential  pool  from  which  to  draw  its  capable  leaders. 

These  are  but  a  few  of  the  ways  in  which  feminist  values  can 
inform  us  as  Jews.  Necessary  changes  can  be  v>^rought  in  keeping 
with  the  tenets  and  spirit  of  Halakhah.  This  means  using  those 
halakhic  categories  that  are  clearly  an  integral  part  of  the  living 
dynamic  of  Jewish  law.  Halakhah  need  not  be  asked  to  conform  to 
every  passing  fad,  nor  should  poskim  become  fellow-travelers  of 
every  fashionable  current;  neither  may  the  leadership  hide  behind 
Slogans  of  immutability  that  are  dishonest  caricatures  of  Halakhah. 
Judaism  throughout  the  centuries  always  has  been  open  to  other 
social  philosophies  as  a  means  of  upgrading  and  enhancing  its  own 
religious  System.  There  is  ample  precedent  for  the  Integration  into 
Jewish  tradition  of  the  best  values  of  the  society  in  which  we  live, 
especially  where  these  illuminate  or  confirm  central  themes  in 
Judaism — the  dignity  of  man  and  woman  as  created  in  the  image 
of  God. 


Marriage,  Family,  Children 

We  must  go  a  step  further.  To  be  authentically  Jewish  means  not 
only  to  take  and  learn  from  the  broader  universe  but  to  serve  as  a 
corrective  within  the  larger  society.  As  Jews  we  need  not  buy  the 
whole  package  of  feminism.  Rather,  we  must  infuse  our  own  ethic 
into  a  changing  society  and  seek  to  check  the  excesses  to  which  all 
revolutionary  movements  fall  prey.  The  cosmic  mission  of  the 
Jewish  people  throughout  history— "a  light  unto  the  nations"— is 
no  mere  rhetorical  flourish. 


\i. 


ON     WOMEN    AND     JUDAISM 


12 


Thus,  we  must  walk  a  very  fine  line,  continually  monitoring  even 
those  parts  of  the  new  that  we  have  integrated  into  our  lives  to  see 
%sKcther  they  adequately  meet  our  o^vn  tests.  All  of  this  implies  an 
instant  readiness  to  scrap  whatever  is  antithetical  to  essential  Jew- 
ish  values,  whatever  bodes  ilj  hr  Jewish  sur\'ivaJ.  Feminism,  /or 
£li  iir  piiar-nd  far  vpzrhd:xs:  rif  st^nn  a.-  Je^^sk  ^-nr-,^    m.-U^.-j 


^  t=*ciär; 


■Olli« 


Mi^ 


.!«><&. 


■ir:i:^:ir5 


•  >*i^ 


►v  x^cr  ^^cdifr: 


^v.T*.  r=^',  renmJ,  iniüc.''  The  :e=i  iir.pajr  upon  wo-.en  or  sach 
unrefined  messages  is  to  have  them  throw  out  the  baby  with  the 
bath  water,  to  abandon  the  vvhole  enterprise  without  a  backward 
glance. 

The  women's  movement  thus  can  be  said  to  have  made  a  not 
inconsiderable  contribution  to  the  crushing  assault  that  has  been 
mounted  on  the  family  by  contemporary  society.  Signs  of  erosion 
are  everywhere.  The  Jewish  family,  too,  is  beginning  to  crumble, 
as  witness  the  unprecedented  rise  in  the  divorce  rate  among  Jews 
and  the  ahenation  of  husbands  from  wives  and  parents  from  chil- 
dren,  with  all  that  this  portends  for  the  future  of  family  life.  Young   ' 
Jewish  women  openly  discuss  their  suspicions  about  and  objections 
to  marriage,  their  intent  to  have  no  children.  This  is  in  striking 
contrast  to  previous  generations,  where  marriage  and  children  were 
a  young  woman's  whole  future  and  where  (taking  the  matter  to  its 
extreme)  there  was  almost  a  feeling  of  family  dishonor  if  a  young 
woman  was  not  married  off  by  the  age  of  twenty-one. 

Today  we  are  wiser  and  acknowledge  that  not  every  woman  can 
find  happiness  in  marriage  or  in  marriage  alone.  But  given  the  pre- 
vailing  pressures,  we  risk  the  danger  of  having  the  other  Option— 
a  traditional  marriage  and  family  relationship— blocked  altogether 
from  consciousness  and  consideration. 

All  of  this  is  particularly  threatening  to  Judaism,  for  at  the  Jew- 
ish core  is  the  family  unit.  The  transmission  of  values— ethical, 
ritual,  and  philosophical— is  effected  largely  through  the  family! 
The  Jewish  family  has  been  the  primary  source  of  strength  and 
Support  in  coping  with  an  often  dangerous  and  hostile  world. 
Today,  particularly  in  America,  this  latter  function  of  the  Jewish 


n 


Feminism:  Is  It  Good  for  the  Jews?      1      13 


family  happily  is  underutilized,  which  should  not  mislead  us  into 
underestimating  its  other  functions  with  respect  to  Jewish  survival. 
In  fact,  new  scientific  research  confirms  what  tradition  has  told  us 
all  along:  the  family  is  the  most  potent  socializing  and  civilizing 
force  available  to  us;  it  is  also  the  Single  strongest  determinant  of 
religious  commitment,  values,  and  educational  achievement.'  Thus, 
the  growing  shift  to  school  and  synagogue  for  the  transmittal  of 
Jewish  values  seems  a  clear  case  of  misguided  judgment.  Even  those 
who  see  the  havurah  movement— the  increasingly  populär  religious 
fellowship  groups— as  the  educational  wave  of  the  future  misjudge 
the  reasons  for  its  success.  To  my  mind,  the  havurah  is  best  under- 
stood  as  a  unit  that  simulates  a  family.  At  its  best,  which  can  be 
very  good,  it  is  a  Supplement  to  or  Substitute  for  the  family.  It  has 
evolved  out  of  the  search  by  many  isolated  young  Single  people, 
as  well  as  couples,  for  the  proper  framework  to  encompass  their 
celebration  of  Judaism.  Deprived  as  they  are  by  the  social  forces 
of  the  traditional  family  unit,  such  individuals  fill  the  void  by  creat- 
ing  its  dosest  approximation,  the  nonbiological  family. 

Aside  from  the  question  of  Jewish  values,  the  issue  of  continuity 
is  at  stake.  The  earliest  evidence  on  contemporary  nontraditional 
human  groupings  indicates  that  these  offer  far  less  satisfaction, 
contentment,  and  stability  than  their  proponents  suggest.  Further- 
more,  there  seems  to  be  a  confusion  of  roles  and  responsibilities. 
Certainly,  the  family  survived  for  so  many  thousands  of  years  as 
an  institution,  with  all  its  imperfections,  because  it  was  and  re- 
mains  the  most  ethical  and  viable  of  relationships. 

For  all  of  these  reasons,  then,  feminists  informed  by  Jewish 
values  have  another  responsibility  in  addition  to  the  call  for 
equality.  We  must  explore  all  possible  avenues  to  strengthen  the 
family  and  compensate  for  its  limitations  before  casting  it  aside  as 
an  outmoded  institution,  one  that  no  longer  serves  human  needs. 

First,  we  who  call  ourselves  Jewish  feminists  must  set  the  record 
straight:  one  need  not  engage  in  a  total  rewriting  of  history  to 
effect  change.  It  is  true  that  the  family  was  the  context  in  which 
women  functioned  as  the  second  sex  throughout  history.  It  is  also 
true  that  other  roles  beyond  those  of  wife-mother  were  limited 
severely.  Today,  in  overwhelming  part,  neither  of  these  conditions 
is  a  necessary  concomitant  of  a  woman's  choice  of  role  as  wife- 


OK     WOJilEN    AND    JÜDAISM 


14 


^U =:.   .:=^ 


^  >~^-        ■i'       T^m  «■■  .^.^        '^~'        -  -  ^1-  -"i»i* 


-^    »v- =: 


.4^« 


ii::5  :rzc  :zr :::. 


inererore,  tiie  nrsz  siep  is  nor  ro  Jenigrare  me  rradicional  roies 
women  have  occupied  nor  to  hold  in  contempt  those  who  choose 
them.  Just  as  we  reject  the  restrictive  mold  that  confined  women  in 
the  past,  so  for  the  next  round  of  history  we  must  not  coerce  all 
women  into  new  restrictive  roIes  that  exclude  wives  and  mothers. 
A  case  in  point:  the  honorable  phrase  "working  woman/'  as  ap- 
plied to  vocations  outside  the  home,  undermines  women's  work  in 
family  roles.  It  belies  the  truth  known  to  anyone  who  has  done  a 
measure  of  both:  it  is  a  more  difficult  task  to  raise  young  children, 
to  keep  a  family  and  home  going,  than  to  do  most  other  kinds  of 
work.  The  new  coercion,  of  course,  is  quite  pervasive.  How  often 
has  one  found  oneself  engaged  in  casual  conversation  on  any  num- 
ber  of  social  occasions  with  a  married  woman,  a  mother  of  young 
children,  who  when  asked  what  she  does,  mumbles,  "Nothing/' 
This  woman  probably  has  been  on  her  feet  all  day,  serving  others, 
and  giving  love,  but  a  flood  of  guilt  washes  over  her  just  the  same. 
She  plays  the  game  by  the  currently  fashionable  rules,  succumbing 
to  a  truncated  definition  of  creativity  and  productivity  that  doesn't  ' 
come  close  to  what  a  large  part  of  life  is  all  about — nurturing  and 
being  nurtured. 

We  must  check  the  negative  attitudes  that  abound  with  respect 
to  raising  children  and  see  to  it  that  such  verbs  as  "mothering"  are 
restored  to  our  vocabularies  as  worthy  options.  More  than  that, 
since  women  are  being  bombarded  with  contrary  messages,  we 
must  educate  others  to  the  pleasures  and  rewards  of  marriage  and 
child-rearing.  These  are  precious  gifts  and  should  not  be  relin- 
quished  so  readily.  Support  of  career  women,  Single  women,  and 
women  involved  in  political  change  need  not  imply  denigration  of 
the  family.  There  is  need  to  reintroduce  into  women's  consciousness 
the  perspective  of  a  total  life.  Family,  career,  and  advanced  educa- 
tion  must  not  be  seen  as  options  that  exclude  each  other,  for  each 
can  be  pursued  at  different  levels  of  intensity  at  different  life 
stages.  This  kind  of  thinking  may  help  women  who  respond 
naturally  to  the  roles  of  wife-mother  to  feel  less  anxious  in  the 


i\<> 


Feminism:  Is  It  Cood  for  the  Jeivs? 


15 


face  of  contemporary  pressure  to  choose  one  role  exclusively  or  to 
be  superwomen,  pursuing  everything  simultaneously. 

Another  element  in  the  safeguarding  of  the  family  is  to  teach 
Society  to  open  up  more  flexibly  to  women  who  have  chosen  the 
path  of  marriage  and  family.  One  subtle  indication  of  prejudice  by 
the  femiiüst  movement  for  career  over  family  has  been  its  ordering 
of  priorities.  The  movement  has  mounted  an  attack  for  equal  oppor- 
tunity  and  equal  pay  for  full-time  careers,  yet  it  has  done  very 
little  about  discrimination  in  salaries  for  part-time  Jobs,  most  of 
which  are  filled  by  mothers.  Nor  has  the  movement  begun  seriously 
to  reconsider  the  adjustments  necessary  to  help  reintegrate  a 
woman  into  a  career  after  she  completes  her  fifteen-  or  twenty- 
year  stint  at  mothering.  The  woman  who  has  been  out  of  the  work 
market  for  almost  two  decades  continues  to  be  penalized  for  this 
decision  over  the  next  thirty  years  of  her  life.  This  is  an  injustice 
to  women,  bad  for  society,  and  another  negative  factor  in  deciding 
whether  to  become  a  mother.  There  has  been  a  conspiracy  of  in- 
difference  to  this  disability  by  both  so-called  male  chauvinists  and 
doctrinaire  feminists.  It  is  time  for  some  serious  efforts  in  this 
area.  Society  must  be  restructured  to  allow  women  a  choice  of 
roles,  so  that  the  whole  matter  is  not  simply  reduced  to  a  case  of 
either/or.  Bringing  the  husband  back  into  a  central  role  in  the 
family,  not  just  as  provider  and  supporter  but  as  child-rearer  and 
involved  husband,  will  push  the  whole  process  along  that  much 
faster;  it  will  be  a  liberation  of  men,  women,  and  children,  too. 

Happily,  there  has  been  some  growth  of  awareness  on  these 
issues.  Founders  of  the  women's  movement,  such  as  Betty  Friedan, 
have  called  for  greater  female-male  Cooperation  in  redressing  the 
imbalance  of  society  and  for  a  critical  affirmation  of  family  and 
childbearing  done  in  a  spirit  of  true  sharing.  Unfortunately,  the 
radical  feminists  have  tended  to  dismiss  or  demean  such  views  and 
this  in  turn  has  triggered  and  been  used  to  rationalize  the  backlash 
against  the  Equal  Rights  Amendment  and  the  women's  movement. 

Finally,  there  must  be  a  corrective  to  some  of  the  unrealistic  con- 
ceptions  regarding  the  newfound  selfhood  of  women.  This  is  as 
much  an  air-brushed  Version  of  reality  as  was  the  "little  woman" 
image  of  the  past.  By  and  large,  women  no  more  can  do  it  all  them- 


ON     VVOMEN    AND    JUDAIS  M 


16 


Feminism:  1$  It  Cood  for  the  Jews?      I      17 


selves  than  men  can.  Loneliness  and  anomie  are  the  real  enemies 

of  life,  not  commitment  to  human  relationships. 

Some  women  Interpret  women's  hberation  only  in  terms  of  their 
own  personal  needs,  narrowly  defined.  This  has  led  to  a  psychology 
of  self-actualization  that  exclaims,  "Let  no  one  eise's  needs  stand 
in  my  way/'  The  result  is  a  denial  that  there  can  be  self-fulfillment 
in  the  process  of  giving  to  others.  Any  relationship  of  intimacy,  if 
it  is  to  last,  requires  the  surrender  of  some  of  the  seif— disciosing, 
sharing,  making  compromises,  yielding.  This  is  as  true  for  men 
as  for  women.  Perhaps  women  of  previous  generations  were  overly 
generous  in  their  yielding  of  seif,  but  the  proper  rectification  for 
this  is  not  to  be  found  in  overcompensation.  There  is  a  point  at 
which  too  great  a  sense  of  seif  is  unhealthy,  unrealistic,  even 
destructive. 

Building  a  marriage  and  a  family,  for  all  its  satisfactions,  must 
include  a  willingness  to  suffer  some  disabilities,  to  live  with  frus- 
tration.  Not  everything  in  life  can  be  equal  at  every  given  moment. 
Good  family  situations  are  being  exploded  by  unreal  expectations 
and  demands  for  immediate,  personal  gratification.  The  capacity  to 
live  with  frustration  has  been  dangerously  weakened.  Women, 
newly  imbued  with  women's  values,  must  not  allow  themselves 
now  to  deny  the  undeniable,  and  they  must  teach  it  to  the  men  in 
their  lives:  for  a  marriage  and  a  parent-child  relationship  to  blos- 
som,  it  takes  time,  energy,  a  measure  of  sacrifice,  and  generosity 
of  spirit,  all  the  opposites  of  instant  gratification.  To  strive  for 
perfection  yet  to  live  with  less  than  perfection  has  been  a  classic 
Jewish  response.  Jews  of  today  ought  to  share  that  message  with 
the  rest  of  society. 


Contemporary  Sexual  Morality 

Another  issue  that  should  be  confronted  by  feminists  and  all  others 
steeped  in  Jewish  values  is  the  new  morality.  Although  this  code 
of  sexual  license  made  its  appearance  well  before  women's  Hbera- 
tion, the  impact  of  feminism  has  been  to  extend  the  particular 
messages  to  the  female  population,  thereby  legitimating  them  for 
all.  Formerly  a  man's  prerogative  and  oppressive  to  women,  extra- 


marital  affairs  now  have  become  a  symbol  of  equality  for  women, 
undermining  family  stability  and  contributing  to  the  soaring  number 
of  broken  families.  Because  most  Jews  are  concentrated  in  urban, 
higher-income,  better-educated  sectors,  they  are  exposed  to  these 
new  values— in  contrast  to  previous  generations,  when  Jews  lived 
by  an  internal  moral  code.  Although  some  of  the  bases  of  faithful- 
ness  and  low  divorce  rates  of  previous  generations  were  negative 
and  coercive,  the  shift  is  a  grim  warning  of  the  destructive  poten- 
tial  in  many  well-intentioned  feminist  cliches,  particularly  that  of 
sexual  freedom. 

Although  Judaism  traditionally  has  nurtured  healthy  sexual  out- 
lets  within  marriage  and  even  recognized  them  before  marriage,  it 
put  strict  curbs  on  extramarital  sexuality.  In  fact,  two  out  of  the 
ten  commandments  prohibit  such  liaisons.  One  need  not  identify 
with  the  male  privilege  or  the  double  Standard  suggested  in  these 
laws  to  agree  with  the  main  goal  of  the  prohibitions  involved.  The 
desire  to  engage  in  extramarital  sex  is  not  abnormal.  The  Torah 
spoke  to  real  people  with  real  passions  and  sought  to  lift  these  to 
a  higher  level.  The  difference,  however,  between  the  past  and  the 
present  is  that  formerly  these  passions  had  to  be  contained  within 
the  realm  of  one's  fantasy  life,  whereas  the  dominant  ethic  now 
pushes  for  their  untrammeled  expression. 

As  Jews,  we  must  say  that  not  everything  one  wants  one  may 
have,  nor  is  it  invariably  good  and  healthy  to  let  it  all  hang  out. 
The  whole  structure  of  mitzvot  has  taught  us  that  one  is  really  free 
only  within  an  ethical  and  moral  structure.  Given  human  limita- 
tions,  ethics  within  an  interpersonal  relationship  necessarily  in- 
volves  restraint  or  frustration.  Judaism  never  outlawed  divorce.  It 
permitted  divorce  as  a  necessary,  if  regrettable,  means  to  end  an 
unsatisfactory  relationship.  But  the  parameters  of  the  marital  rela- 
tionship, while  it  was  being  lived,  were  at  least  fidelity,  holiness, 
and  mutual  respect.  Feminists  who  claim  that  women  now  should 
have  füll  sexual  freedom  define  freedom  as  allowing  the  ex-slave 
the  same  right  to  abuse  that  previously  only  the  master  had.  Jewish 
feminists  should  rather  challenge  and  censure  these  values  in  male 
society.  We  should  press  for  equal  morality,  not  equal  amorality. 

Another  aspect  of  the  dialectical  relationship  between  Judaism 
and  feminism  involves  separating  out  messages  that  are  good  for 


\ 


ON    WOMEN     AND    JUDAISM 


18 


Society  in  general  yet  harmful  to  the  Jewish  people.  Thus,  in  the 
era  of  "the  vanishing  American  Jew/'  Zero  Population  Growth  is 
no  answer  for  us.  To  survive  with  a  margin  of  safety,  Jews  need  a 
Population  explosion,  not  ZPG.  Of  course,  no  one  should  be  coerced 
into  having  children;  giving  birth  only  for  the  sake  of  Jewish 
survival  probably  will  result  in  an  unhealthy  family  nexus.  As 
Jews  living  in  the  post-Holocaust  age,  we  must  be  acutely  aware 
that  the  holiness  and  faith  in  creating  and  enhancing  life  add  a 
profound  dimension  of  depth  to  the  joy  of  child-rearing. 

The  Holocaust  informs  our  attitudes  toward  abortion  as  well.  As 
survivors  of  an  era  in  which  six  million  Jews  were  killed,  one-fourth 
of  them  children,  we  have  to  consider  both  sides  of  the  abortion 
issue.  From  a  Jewish  perspective,  we  must  talk  about  the  precious- 
ness  of  hfe,  not  just  about  the  right  to  life.  A  woman's  right  to 
consider  the  quality  of  life  that  she  and  her  child  will  have  should 
go  band  in  hand  with  education  on  the  sanctity  of  life  and  on  the 
risk  of  devaluating  life  in  unthinking  or  easy  medical  Solutions. 

The  halakhic  outlook  opposes  abortion  on  demand.  As  Jews,  we 
must  demonstrate  that  abortion  need  not  eliminate  reverence  for 
life  nor  joy  in  creating  life.  An  orientation  of  this  nature  will  allow 
new  halakhic  attitudes  toward  abortion.  It  also  will  help  curb  the  ' 
facile,  nonchalant  attitudes  toward  abortion  as  well  as  the  abuses 
that  can  grow  out  of  abortion  reform.  The  protection  of  the  quality 
of  life  is  the  ethical  basis  of  abortion,  but  this  may  be  offset  or 
destroyed  by  a  loss  of  reverence  for  life.  Abortion  never  must  be 
allowed  to  become  simply  a  preferred  method  of  birth  control. 
Halakhic  guidelines  that  accommodate  women's  needs  yet  com- 
municate  this  traditional  reverence  for  life  are  called  for. 

If  one  is  not  locked  into  the  narrowly  focused  battle  surrounding 
the  issue  of  abortion,  many  other  possibilities  emerge,  such  as  the 
establishment  by  the  Jewish  Community  of  adoptive  agencies  for 
pregnant  Jewish  women  who  cannot  or  do  not  want  to  keep  their 
own  babies.  Carrying  the  baby  to  birth  and  giving  it  up  for  adop- 
tion  should  be  an  available  Option.  The  current  universal  dominance 
of  the  pro-abortion  values  among  Jews  has  all  but  destroyed  the 
availability  of  Jewish  babies  for  adoption.  This  causes  real  Prob- 
lems for  couples  who  wish  to  adopt. 

The  feminist  movement  has  brought  another  unfortunate  mes- 


Feminism:  Is  It  Good  for  the  Jews? 


19 


sage  of  modern  society — its  materialistic  orientation.  Men's  and 
women's  worth  are  determined  by  what  and  how  much  they  pro- 
duce,  what  kind  of  Jobs  they  hold,  their  titles,  their  earnings,  and 
not  by  their  values  and  characters.  This  has  led  to  dehumanization, 
worship  of  success,  and  rejection  of  failures,  including  the  poor. 
This  attitude  spills  over  into  a  critique  of  volunteerism.  In  part  a 
reaction  to  the  exclusion  of  women  from  high-paying  Jobs,  women's 
voluntary  and  philanthropic  efforts  have  been  scorned.  Such  slogans 
as  "Self-esteem  comes  from  a  salaried  job"  or  'Tf  it  isn't  paid  for 
it  isn't  taken  seriously"  are  no  longer  whispered.  These  ideas  lead 
some  women  to  abdicate  responsibilities  that  used  to  be  shared 
by  all.  Jewish  charitable  organizations,  the  mainstay  of  the  Jewish 
Community,  are  in  decline  because  the  ranks  of  committed  workers 
now  march  to  a  different  beat. 

Jewish  feminists  must  affirm  the  basic  Jewish  principle  that  the 
human  being  is  valuable  in  his  or  her  very  being.  We  must  articu- 
late  the  value  in  serving,  in  giving  of  ourselves  to  others,  in  acts 
of  lovingkindness  that  can  be  performed  in  volunteer  work,  in 
professional  life,  in  being  a  good  family  member  and  friend.  Not 
everyone  can  afford  to  work  without  pay,  but  this  certainly  should 
remain  a  respected  Option.  Those  who  find  satisfaction  in  giving 
to  others  should  be  praised,  not  scorned.  The  traditional  role  of 
enabüng  is  a  valid  one  as  long  as  it  is  not  limited  to  women,  nor 
women  limited  to  it.  Every  member  of  the  Community  should  be 
educated  to  his  or  her  responsibility  for  the  Community. 

We  must  attempt  to  infuse  these  values  into  the  society  we  seek 
to  create,  rather  than  simply  imitate  the  errors  of  the  male  society 
we  slowly  are  entering.  The  truly  revolutionary — and  more  diffi- 
cult — task  is  to  change  the  very  frame  of  societal  values.  To  rise 
above  the  production-value  System,  to  reorient  society,  is  to  lib- 
erate  men  and  women  for  a  more  human  living. 

We  must  check  the  excesses  of  those  feminists  who  are  against 
men,  almost  antihuman  in  their  hostility.  Jewish  women  do  not 
need  to  hate  men  in  order  to  energize  themselves,  nor  should  Jew- 
ish men  be  seen  simply  as  crude  oppressors  of  women  throughout 
history.  We  do  not  require  such  cartoons  to  justify  ourselves.  For 
most  of  our  history,  Jewish  men  and  women  suffered  together 
from  external  persecution  and  hostility;  it  was  their  mutual  soli- 


Oii   ytouis  AüD  iZDAisu     j      2J 


darity  that  carried  them  through.  Instead  of  placing  ourselves  at 
opposite  poles,  we  must  try  to  liberate  men  so  that,  together  with 
women,  they  will  strive  for  a  sense  of  dignity  and  human  worth. 

Finally,  we  must  reject  the  notion  that  equality  means  androgyny. 
From  the  perspective  of  Judaism  there  can  be  separate,  clear-cut 
roles  in  which  men  and  womcn  may  function  as  equals  without 
losing  separate  identities.  Male  and  female  are  admittedly  difficult 
concepts  to  define,  but  we  must  be  aware  in  each  instance  whether 
we  are  dealing  with  the  dignity  of  equality,  which  is  an  essential 
value  in  Judaism,  or  the  identity  of  male  and  female,  which  is  not. 
Jewish  women  who  have  identified  with  feminist  goals  have  an 
added  measure  of  responsibility  in  all  of  these  issues,  for  they  are 
in  a  better  position  to  influence  and  be  heard  out  by  both  sides. 

It  is  no  mean  task  to  walk  the  fine  line  between  old  and  new, 
Status  quo  and  avant-garde,  tradition  and  change,  God's  command- 
ments  and  the  emerging  needs  of  societies  and  individuals.  But 
Judaism  has  survived  considerable  odds  and  has  managed  to  con- 
tribute  greatly  to  world  civilization  precisely  because  in  each  era 
it  managed  to  walk  that  fine  line.  To  keep  the  balance  between 
these  opposing  Forces  is  probably  more  difficult  now — the  forces 
are  stronger  and  at  a  higher  level  of  tension  in  our  time,  and  sot' 
ciety  is  more  open.  But  our  faith  in  Judaism  and  the  Jewish  people 
gives  US  the  strength  to  demand  and  expect  the  same  achievement 
in  cur  time.  It  is  a  task  worthy  of  the  effort. 

NOTES 

1.  Emanuel  Rackman,  "Equality  in  Judaism/'  in  Equality,  ed.  J.  Roland 
Pennock  and  John  W.  Chapman  (New  York:  Lieber-Atherton,  1967). 

2.  Saul  Berman,  'The  Status  of  Women  in  Halakhic  Judaism/'  Tradition 
14  (Winter  1973) :  5-28. 

3.  See,  for  example,  Arlene  Agus,  "This  Month  Is  for  You:  Observing 
Rosh  Hodesh  as  a  Woman's  Holiday/'  in  The  Jewish  Woman:  New  Perspec- 
tives, ed.  Elizabeth  Koltun  (New  York:  Schocken  Books,  1976),  pp.  84-93;  A 
Guide  toward  Celehrating  the  Birth  of  a  Daughter  (New  York:  Jewish  Women's 
Resource  Center,  1980). 

4.  Geoffrey  Bock,  "The  Social  Context  of  Jewish  Education:  A  Literature 
Review"  (paper  delivered  at  the  CoIIoquium  on  Jewish  Education  and  Jewish 
Identity  of  the  American  Jewish  Committee,  New  York,  April  1974).  See  also 
Harold  5.  Himmelfarb,  "The  Non-Linear  Impact  of  Schooling:  Comparing 
Different  Types  and  Amounts  of  Jewish  Education/'  Sociology  of  Education 
50  (April  1977) :  114-32. 


Can  a  Mild-Mannered 
Yeshiva  Girl  Find  Happiness 

among  the  Feminists? 


ON  occasion  I  have  been  asked:  How  can  one  so  rooted  in 
Jewish  tradition,  so  at  home  with  halakhic  prescriptions  and 
proscriptions,  have  such  strong  feminist  leanings?  Are  the  two  not 
mutually  exclusive,  anomalous,  contradictory?  To  the  extent  that 
one's  worldview  is  shaped  by  small  incidents,  special  encounters, 
and  chance  events,  as  much  as  it  is  by  environment,  endowment, 
and  formal  education,  I  would  like  to  share  with  the  reader  some 
of  those  points  along  the  route  of  a  transition  woman. 

I  was  born  into  a  strongly  traditional  family.  With  all  the  struc- 
ture  this  entails,  it  was  quite  natural  to  be  socialized  early  into  the 
proper  roles.  I  knew  my  place  and  I  liked  it — the  warmth,  the 
rituals,  the  solid,  tight  parameters.  I  never  gave  a  thought  as  to  what 
responsibilities  I  did  or  didn't  have  as  a  female  growing  up  in  the 
Orthodox  Jewish  Community.  It  was  just  the  way  things  were — 
the  most  natural  order  in  the  world. 

My  friends  and  I  shared  the  same  world  of  expectation.  I  re- 
member  the  year  of  the  bar  mitzvahs  of  our  eighth-grade  male 
friends.  We  girls  sat  up  in  the  women's  section  of  the  synagogue 
and  took  great  pride  in  "our  boys."  If  we  thought  about  ourselves 
at  all,  it  was  along  the  lines  of  "thank  God  we  are  females  and  don't 
have  to  go  through  this  public  ordeal."  Quite  remarkably,  there 
never  was  any  envy  of  what  the  boys  were  doing,  never  a  thought 
of  "why  not  us?''  Perhaps  it  was  because  we  knew  that  our  big 
moment  would  come:  as  proper  young  ladies  growing  up  in  the 


21 


! 


i 


!* 


'4 


The  Theoretical  Basis  of 
VJomens  Equality  injudaism 


I 


T  A  7E  who  are  committed   to   traditional   Judaism  are   standing 
^  ^  today  at  the  crossroads  on  the  question  of  women.  Feminism 
disturbs  our  previous  equilibrium,  for  it  makes  a  fundamental  claim 
about  women  contrary  to  the  model  generated  by  Halakhah. 
The  feminist  ideology  can  be  summed  up  as  follows: 

1.  Women  have  the  same  innate  potential,  capability,  and  needs  as 
men,  whether  in  the  realm  of  the  spirit,  the  word,  or  the  deed. 

2.  Women  have  a  similar  capacity  for  Interpretation  and  con- 
comitant  decision  making. 

3.  Women  can  function  fully  as  "outside"  persons,  in  broader 
areas  of  society  beyond  the  home. 

4.  Women  can  and  should  have  some  control  over  their  own 
destinies,  to  the  extent  that  such  mastery  is  possible  for  anyone. 

Let  US  reduce  these  broad  Statements  from  the  level  of  general- 
ization  to  a  theology  of  woman  as  Jew; 

1.  A  woman  of  faith  has  the  same  innate  vision  and  existential 
longing  for  a  redemptive-covenantal  reahty  as  a  man  of  faith.' 
She  has  the  same  ability  and  need  to  be  in  the  presence  of  God 
alone  and  within  the  context  of  the  Community.  Such  a  woman 
is  sufficiently  mature  to  accept  the  responsibilities  for  this  rela- 
tionship  and  the  rights  that  flow  from  these  responsibihties.  If 
these  Spiritual  gifts  do  not  flow  naturally  from  her  soul,  she 
can  be  educated  and  uplifted  in  them  in  much  the  same  fashion 
that  Jewish  men  are. 


39 


J  ifc     t%  Z  UIS 


^-v-  j::zA:iu 


40 


iy>M , 


^  "^-i  -  '*-r' 


"^TCXii  ^ilri  ?   I"^  ^*A  imiTL  2  .1— -4 


JTw 


2.    Jewish  women,  as  much  as  men,  have  the  mental  and  emotional 
capacities  to  deal  directly  u-ifh  the  most  sacred  Jemsh  texts 
and  pnmary  sources.  Jewish  v/omen  are  capable  of  interprefing 
tradition  based  on  the  sources.  They  can  be  involved  in  the 
decis.on-making  process  that  grows  out  of  the  blending  of  in- 
nerited  tradition  with  contemporary  needs. 

3.  Some  women,  as  some  men,  are  capable  of  functioning  in  the 
positions  of  authority  related  to  the  religious  and  physical  sur- 
vival  of  the  Jewish  people. 

4.  Women  as  a  class  should  not  find  themselves  in  discriminatory 
positions  in  personal  situations.  In  such  matters  as  marriage  and 
divorce,  a  woman  should  have  no  less  control  or  personal  free- 
dom  than  a  man,  nor  should  she  be  subject  to  abuse  resulting 
from  the  constriction  of  freedom. 

These,  then,  are  the  basic  claims  that  a  woman,  sensitized  to  the 
new,  broader,  cultural  value  System,  can  carry  over  into  her  life 
as  a  Jew.  I  am  not  arguing  here  whether  halakhic  Judaism  deems  a 
woman  inferior,  although  there  are  more  than  a  few  sources  in  the 
tradition  that  lend  themselves  to  such  a  conclusion;^  nor  will  I 
accept  at  face  value  those  Statements  that  place  women  on  a  sep- 
arate  but  higher  pedestal.  What  I  am  saying  is  that  Halakhah,  con- 
trary  to  the  feminist  values  I  have  described  above,  continues  to 
delimit  women.  In  some  very  real  ways,  halakhic  parameters  in- 
hibit  women's  growth,  both  as  Jews  and  as  human  beings 

I  do  not  speak  here  of  all  of  Halakhah.  One  must  be  careful  not 
to  generalize  from  certain  critical  comments  and  apply  them  to  the 
System  as  a  whole.  In  fact,  my  critique  could  grow  only  out  of  a 
profound  appreciation  for  the  System  in  its  entirety-its  ability  to 
preserve  the  essence  of  an  ancient  revelation  as  a  fresh  experience 
each  day;  ,ts  power  to  generale  an  abiding  sense  of  kinship,  past 
and  present;  its  intimate  relatedness  to  concerns  both  immediate 
and   other-wordly;   its   psychoiogical    soundness;    its    ethical    and 
moral  integrity.  On  the  whole,  I  believe  that  a  Jew  has  a  better 
Chance  of  living  a  worthwhile  life  if  he  or  she  lives  a  life  according 
to  Halakhah.  Therefore,  I  do  not  feel  threatened  when  addressing 
the  question  of  the  new  needs  of  women  in  Judaism  nor  in  ad- 
mitting  the  limitations  of  Halakhah  in  this  area.  Indeed,  it  is  my 


eis       ..  tZ       .  »r*    tf  k  f-        ♦iC 


very  rzim  in  nzü^krac  juaEism  rr^Li  n. 

search  within  it  for  a  new  level  of  perfection,  as  Jews  have  been 

doing  for  three  thousand  years. 

From  this  understanding  one  is  moved  perforce  to  ask  the  next 
question:  if  the  new  feminist  categories  are  perceived  to  be  of  a 
higher  order  of  definition  of  woman  than  those  that  Hmit  her,  how 
are  we  to  explain  the  gap  between  the  feminist  model  and  the 
halakhic  model?  This  becomes  even  more  problematic  when  one 
considers  the  sheer  abundance  of  ethical  and  moral  constructs  in 
Judaism  (e.g.,  the  injunctions  not  to  insult  another,  to  lift  up  one's 
brother  before  he  falls,  not  to  lead  another  into  temptation,  not  to 
judge  unless  one  has  been  faced  with  the  same  Situation).  How  is 
it  possible  that  a  tradition  with  so  highly  developed  a  sensitivity  to 
human  beings  could  allow  even  one  law  or  value  judgment  that 
demeans  women,  much  less  a  host  of  such  laws? 

There  are  certain  external  and  internal  factors  that  explain  the 
insufficiency  of  the  tradition  with  regard  to  women.  The  stratifica- 
tion  of  men  and  women  in  Judaism  simply  reflects  the  male-female 
hierarchical  Status  in  all  previous  societies  in  human  history.^ 
Moreover,  in  light  of  the  primary  model  of  Jewish  woman  as  do- 
mestic  creature — as  wife,  mother,  dependent,  auxiliary — all  other 
roles  and  responsibilities  that  seemed  to  conflict  with  the  primary 
model  simply  were  eliminated.* 

I  do  not  wish  to  imply  that  Jewish  women  were  oppressed.  This 
is  far  from  the  truth.  Given  the  historically  universal  stratification 
of  the  sexes,  plus  the  model  of  the  Jewish  woman  as  enabler  and 
the  exclusive  male  (rabbinic)  Option  of  interpreting  the  law,  there 
could  have  been  widespread  abuse  of  the  powerless.  But  this  did 
not  happen.  In  fact,  the  reverse  is  true;  throughout  rabbinic  history, 
one  observes  a   remarkably   benign   and   caring   attitude    toward 

women. 

Nevertheless,  there  is  a  need  today  to  redefine  the  Status  of 
women  in  certain  areas  of  Jewish  law.  First,  a  benign  and  caring 
stance  is  not  discernible  in  every  last  instance  of  rabbinic  legisla- 
tion.*  Second,  paternalism  is  not  what  women  are  seeking  nowa- 
days,  not  even  the  women  of  the  traditional  Jewish  Community. 
Increasingly,  such  women  are  beginning  to  ask  questions  about 
equality,  about  a  more  mature  sharing  of  responsibility,  about  di- 


ON    WOMEN     AND    JUDAISM 


42 


vesting  the  power  of  halakhic  Interpretation  and  legislation  of  its 
Singular  maleness. 


2. 


3. 


// 


I  have  referred  to  the  crossroads  at  which  we  stand.  A  crossroad 
implies  choices.  There  are  three  ways  in  which  halakhic  Jews  may 
proceed  with  regard  to  the  question  of  women: 

1.    We  can  revert  to  the  fundamentalist  pole,  where  hierarchy  of 

male  and  female  remains  unchallenged  in  most  areas  of  human 
life. 

We  can  allow  the  new  value  system  to  penetrate  our  civil  lives 
but  not  our  religious  lives.  In  other  words,  women  may  be  en- 
couraged  to  see  themselves  as  equals  in  social,  economic,  and 
political  spheres.  This  is  the  current  stance  of  modern  Ortho- 
doxy. 

We  can  find  ways  within  Halakhah  to  allow  for  growth  and 
greater  equality  in  the  ritual  and  spiritual  realms,  despite  the 
fact  that  there  are  no  guaranfees  where  this  will  lead  us. 

It  is  my  firm  belief  that  the  third  path  is  the  one  we  now  must 
begm  to  follow.  Admittedly,  I  have  been  propelled  in  that  direction 
by  the  contemporary  Western  humanist  liberation  philosophy  of 
the  secular  women's  movement;  those  who  would  hurl  at  me  the 
Charge  of  "foreign-body  contamination"  therefore  are  absolutely 
nght.  But  is  there  any  religion  in  history,  including  Judaism,  that 
has  not  borrowed  from  the  surrounding  culture?  The  real  question 
IS,  What  do  we  do  with  what  we  borrow?  What  are  the  unique 
Jewish  ways  in  which  we  appropriate  positive  ideas,  customs,  and 
values?  How  we  can  enhance  our  system  by  these  new  accretions? 
And  most  important,  in  what  ways  can  they  become  continuous 
with  the  essence  of  Judaism? 

True,  the  original  impulse  for  all  this,  as  I  have  said,  derives 
from  femmism,  but  even  if  such  a  movement  hadn't  evolved  I 
still  would  like  to  think  that  a  creative  pondering  of  the  ideals  of 
Torah  Judaism  might  lead  to  the  same  conclusions.  Thus,  the  cen- 
tral concern  of  these  observations  has  to  do  with  organic,  internal 


The  Theoretical  Basis  of  Women's  Equality  in  Judaism 


43 


changes,  changes  in  our  private  Jewish  lives,  unmediated  by  So- 
ciety, quotas,  affirmative  action,  and  the  like — changes  based  on 
intrinsic  Jewish  values  and  brought  about  because  the  halakhic 
way  of  life  calls  them  forth. 


/// 


Let  US  examine  briefly  some  working  principles  of  Halakhah. 
Halakhah  is  not  simply  a  collection  of  laws.  It  is  a  way  of  life 
or,  more  correctly,  a  way  of  living.  For  a  Jew,  a  life  directed  by 
Halakhah  is  as  near  perfect  a  way  of  life  as  possible.  The  sum  of 
its  parts — observing  the  Sabbath,  kashrut,  giving  to  charity,  having 
a  family,  being  part  of  a  Community,  teaching  children,  studying 
Torah,  loving  God — is  infinitely  greater  than  each  of  the  parts.  All 
things  great  and  small — reciting  a  blessing  over  new  clothes,  or 
after  elimination,  or  over  different  varieties  of  foods;  cutting  the 
toenails,  or  breaking  an  egg  the  Jewish  way — each  minute  act 
further  distills  that  Jewish  core. 

Why  do  I  say  ''near  perfect"?  Halakhah  is  a  System  that  is 
being  perfected  continually.  Indeed,  the  rabbinic  tradition  stresses 
humanity's  role  as  a  partner  in  the  task  of  perfecting  an  imperfect 
World.  One  cannot  but  perceive  Halakhah  as  a  fluid,  dynamic  Sys- 
tem. Fluidity  on  specific  laws  about  women  is  itself  an  example  of 
that  dynamism. 

Halakhah  interprets  and  reflects  reality,  not  just  tradition. 
Halakhah  never  operated  in  a  totally  closed  system.  There  always 
has  been  a  healthy  consideration  of  immediate  circumstances  and 
broader  societal  forces.  Even  when  rabbinic  leaders  ehacted  circum- 
scribing  legislation,  that  too  was  a  form  of  interaction  with  broader 
Society.  The  whole  body  of  responsa  literature  reflects  those  influ- 
ences.  So  do  such  rabbinic  concepts  as  gezerah  she-ayn  ha-tzibur 
yakhol  la-amod  bah  ("restrictions  imposed  upon  the  populace  that 
the  majority  cannot  endure  are  not  to  be  levied")  and  dina 
de-malkhuta  dina  ("the  civil  law  of  the  land  is  the  law"). 

The  techniques  of  reinterpretation  are  built  right  into  the  Sys- 
tem. It  was  proper  use  of  these  techniques  that  enabled  rabbinic 
Judaism  to  be  continuous  with  the  past,  even  as  it  redefined  and 


ON    WOMEN     AND    JUDAISM 


44 


Sil'. 


Ui 


redirected  the  present  and  future.  The  techniques  also  allowed  for     ; 


«'■  .       *-Z    ^    \Slu, 


ic>^*  Z3Z.  *.n:  i^ve  two 


♦  ,,,.... 


:^    -Zc? 


r,_i — xr^  i 


^  ^ 

*  1^» 


t^m  «»  ^  I      ■  ■  ■  ifclT    S    I       ■  ifc 


accornrr*od 2 rion  is  tne  use  ct  :isrKa<rj:i,  a  sciipvdial  pässage  oz  word 
on  which  a  novel  transition  is  pegged.  An  asmakhta  o/ten  seems 
illogicaJ,  farfetched,  arbitrary.  Yet  the  logic  is  in  the  technique  it- 
self.  Through  the  use  of  asmakhta  one  never  loses  sight  of  the 
original  revelation  at  Sinai,  even  though  the  new  interpretation 
may  go  far  beyond  the  cid.  Other  halakhic  techniques  to  accom- 
plish  similar  ends  are  takkanot  (directives  enacted  by  halakhic 
scholars  enjoying  the  force  of  law),  gezerot  (precautionary  rulings), 
and  hora'at  sha'ah  (emergency  rulings);  even  pilpulistic  interpreta- 
tions  were  used  to  develop  and  refine  legal  rulings  further. 

A  central  theme  seems  to  emerge:  where  there  was  a  rabbinic 
will,  there  was  a  halakhic  way.  This  is  not  to  say  that  talmudic  and 
post-talmudic  literature  is  not  "the  law  of  Moses  at  Sinai."  It  is 
that,  but  it  is  also  the  substance  of  rabbinic  will  finding  a  halakhic 
way.  What  shall  we  call  it?  Continuing  revelation?  Wise,  interpre- 
tive  judgment  based  on  inherited  tradition?  An  understanding,  di- 
vinely  given  or  intuited,  of  the  appropriate  moment  for  greater  re- 
straint,  or  relaxation  of  the  rules,  or  heightened  responsibility? 
Surely  the  rabbinic  decision  to  accept  the  testimony  of  a  wife  or  a 
Single  witness — as  sufficient  evidence  to  establish  the  fact  of  death 
of  the  husband  and  thereby  free  her  to  reniarry — is  a  sign  of  rabbinic 
compassion  that  somehow  found  halakhic  expression.  Surely  Rab- 
benu  Gershon\,  the  tenth-century  authority,  used  his  power  and 
Position  to  enact  a  takkanah  (ordinance)  that  disallowed  forcible 
divorce. 

A  good  deal  of  leeway  in  interpretation  was  given  to  individual 
scholars.  The  lack  of  centrahzation  of  authority  from  the  Second 
Temple  period  and  onward  was  not  perceived  as  a  weakness  in 
rabbinic  tradition.  The  concept  of  moreh  de-atra  (following  the 
ruling   of   the   local   rabbinic    authority),    the   füll   disciosure   of 


The  Theoretical  Basis  of  Wotnens  Equality  in  Judaism      \      45 

disputes  between  scholars,  the  transmission  of  minority  ruling 
along  with  the  majority  ones— these  are  as  fundamental  to  the 
workings  of  Torah  as  Torah  itself . 

There  is  a  heavy  emphasis  of  ethical  content  in  biblical  and  rab- 
binic literature.  Ethical  principles  are  at  least  as  important  as  ritual 
ones.'  The  concept  of  equality  in  both  ethical  and  ritual  spheres 
emerges  not  only  as  principle  but  as  process— a  gradual  movement 
from  a  society  where  slavery  was  permitted  to  the  de  facto  abolish- 
ment  of  slavery;  the  jubilee  year  as  a  means  of  avoiding  concentra- 
tion  of  wealth  in  the  hands  of  a  few;  the  developing  structure  of  a 
convenantal  Community  rather  than  a  hierarchical  one;  authority 
based  on  merit  (the  rabbis)  rather  than  birth  or  wealth  (priests, 
Levites,  and  landowners).  Clearly,  this  trend  in  Jewish  history— 
hierarchial  to  covenantal,  birth  to  merit— has  far-reaching  implica- 
tions  for  women  in  Judaism. 


IV 

In  light  of  these  working  principles  of  Halakhah,  one  must  ask 
some  pointed  questions :  Does  halakhic  stratification  of  the  sexes 
explicitly  serve  a  theological  purpose,  that  is,  relatedness  to  God? 
For  example,  is  inequity  in  divorce  law  or  exclusion  from  court 
testimony  or  insufficiency  to  be  counted  for  a  quorum  of  some  ulti- 
mate  value  in  Judaism?  Is  there  any  way  that  the  release  of  women 
from  the  Obligation  to  study  Torah,  or  praying  at  the  prescribed 
times,  can  be  understood  in  the  sense  of  kedushah,  holiness,  a 
"setting  aside"?  We  are  offered  no  reasons  for  observing  kashrut, 
yet  we  clearly  understand  it  as  an  act  of  holiness,  a  special  calling, 
a  Symbol  of  the  unique  relationship  between  God  and  the  Jewish 
people.  Is  that  how  we  must  understand  the  stratification  of  male 
and  female  in  Jewish  ritual?  Must  we  say  that  God's  eternal  plan 
for  the  sexes  was  a  hierarchy,  one  dominant  and  one  subordinate 
sex  as  law  and  ritual  define  us?  Could  it  be  that  God,  who  loves  all 
of  His  creatures,  prefers  and  esteems  the  devotion  of  one  whole 
class  more  than  the  other?  Or  can  we  say  perhaps  that  the  inequity 
is  reflective  of  an  undisputed  socioreligious  stance  of  ancient  times? 
Intuitively,  and  with  a  new  awareness  of  the  ethics  of  male- 


The  Theoretical  Ba^is  of  Womens  Equality  in  Judaism      \      47 


— -^iH^SAXT     ^ 


>       - 


•>^»  ~V  .liii  »^    J^ 


.A^       .U^ 


LiOZ  ö  pi^r.  :c>T  t^ez'czcuy  c:  zr.e  sexes:  zoic  cL'^isicn,  yes  zo  sczTie 
extent;  but  superiority,  no.  That  could   be   only  a   time-bound, 
human  Interpretation  of  God's  vviJl,  from  which  women  ought  now 
to  be  exempt.  If  the  male-female  stratification  is  sociological  rather 
than  theological,  are  we  bound  to  it  forever?  Does  the  fact  that  this 
long-standing  sociological  truth  has  been  codified  into  Halakhah 
oblige  US  to  make  an  eternal  principle  out  of  an  accident  of  history? 
For   that  answer   we   must   turn    to   other  characteristics   of   the 
Halakhah,  as  I  have  indicated  above:  its  proven  ability  to  undergo 
reinterpretation  in  specific  areas,  particularly  on  women's  issues; 
its  pattern  of  equalizing  unequals;  its  allowance  for  human  sub- 
jectivity;  its  process  of  self-perfection  over  the  long  course  of  its 
unfolding;  its  emphasis  on  ethical  sensitivity  so  that  no  class  of 
people  feels  disadvantaged;  its  movement  from  ascribed  to  earned 
Status,  with  authority  flowing  from  merit,  not  birth  or  sex. 

It  vvould  seem,  then,  that  füll  equalization  of  women  in  Judaism 
should  be  consistent  with  the  wider  principles  of  Torah.  In  fact,  we 
ought  to  go  one  step  further.  If  the  hierarchy  of  the  sexes  serves 
no  religious  function,  if  Halakhah  has  the  capacity  for  reinterpreta- 
tion, if  equality  is  a  basic  positive  value  in  Judaism,  then  it  be-' 
hooves  the  Community  and  its  leaders  to  take  the  initiative;  together 
they  must  search  for  new  ways  to  Upgrade  religious  expression  and 
new  means  by  which  to  generate  equality  for  women  in  tradition. 
No  longer  shall  we  hear  the  argument  that  women  are  demanding 
this  or  that  of  the  Halakhah.  Rather,  the  issue  should  be  set  forth 
in  the  following  terms:  Halakhah,  the  Jewish  way,  cries  out  for 
reinterpretation  in  the  light  of  the  new  awareness  of  feminine  equal- 
ity, feminine  potential. 


V 


Let  US  apply  this  theoretical  structure  to  specific  situations.  Given 
the  unmistakable  pattern  toward  equalization  in  Jewish  divorce 
law — that  is,  the  gradual  limitation  of  the  male's  absolute  rights 
and  the  gradual  expansion  of  Protections  for  women — the  rabbis  of 
today  can  no  longer  plead  an  inability  to  rectify  the  inequity.  To 


!( 


I 

>  ^ 


say  that  their  hands  are  tied  or  that  they  can  resolve  an  individual 
case  but  cannot  find  a  comprehensive  Solution  is  to  admit  that  they 
are  unworthy  of  the  authority  vested  in  them.  Worse,  it  bespeaks 
a  lack  of  rabbinic  will  to  find  a  halakhic  way.  How  eise  is  one  to 
explain  the  reluctance  of  certain  gedolim  (rabbinic  authorities)  to 
build  upon  the  halakhic  groundwork  laid  out  by  such  contempo- 
rary  scholars  as  Emanuel  Rackman,  Eliezer  Berkovits,  and  Ze'ev 
Falk,  who  have  come  forth  with  alternative  Solutions  in  the  form 
of  respec table  halakhic  precedents?  What  these  gedolim,  the  prin- 
cipal  religious  decision  makers  of  contemporary  Orthodoxy,  are 
really  saying  is  that  they  feel  a  need  to  preserve  the  original  male 
prerogative  in  matters  of  divorce,  for  they  know  well  that  the  only 
person  whose  hands  are  tied  is  the  woman,  who  is  often  fair  game 
for  blackmail. 

Similarly,  we  can  apply  the  theoretical  model  to  education  and 
religious  leadership.  If  Torah  study  and  its  teaching  is  something 
of  high  value,  surpassing  all  other  mitzvot,  what  could  possibly 
justify  closing  off  parts  of  the  activity  to  one  half  of  our  people? 
Is  it  ethical  to  say  that  women  are  unequal  to  the  task,  especially 
when  exceptional  modeis  have  indicated  otherwise?  Moreover,  here 
is  a  clear  instance  whereby  the  System  continuously  perfects  itself. 
What  is  accepted  now  in  the  way  of  Torah  study  for  women  was 
absolutely  out  of  bounds  three  generations  ago.  Sarah  Schneier, 
the  founder  of  the  Bais  Yaakov  movement  of  education  for  girls, 
faced  severe  Opposition  in  her  time,  but  every  young  Jewish  woman 
who  has  received  a  Jewish  education  from  that  day  on  is  the  bene- 
ficiary  of  her  vision  and  persistence.  Once  she  accomplished  what 
she  did,  those  who  watched  it  happen  and  those  who  understood 
it  as  a  more  perfect  expression  of  a  woman's  Jewishness  somehow 
found  a  halakhic  way  to  make  Jewish  education  for  women  legiti- 
mate,  even  desirable. 

Let  US  press  the  perfection  model  one  step  further  and  confront 
the  dilemma  head  on.  If  the  study  of  Torah  and  Mishnah  is  not 
forbidden  to  women,  why  does  Talmud  remain  off  limits?  And  if 
certain  study  is  permitted  to  women,  why  is  it  not  encouraged? 
The  answer  is  clear:  because  direct  access  to  learning  is  the  key  to 
religious  leadership  in  the  traditional  Jewish  Community.  Without 
it,  there  is  no  way  a  woman  can  qualify  as  a  scholar,  a  halakhic 


':^ — sju. 


#  # 


f^  .  _^        ..  


::r.     i^v-: 


..      rNl-^     CCis 


ro  rajic  aüruroLng  qücsrions.  A  vvoman  wicii  a  sense  or  her  innare 
Potential  will  begin  to  ask,  "Why  shouldn't  I,  too,  strive  to  be 
learned?"  A  woman  the  match  in  learning  of  any  rabbinical  Stu- 
dent will  sooner  or  later  ask,  "Why  can't  I,  too,  be  ordained?'' 
Ultimately,  a  new  generation  of  parents  who  place  high  value  on 
Torah  study  will  ask,  "Why  not  expect  the  same  from  our  daugh- 
ters  as  from  our  sons?" 

To  deny  fulfillment  of  these  expectations  is  to  assume  that  women 
never  can  be  equal  to  men  in  spirit  and  intellect  and  therefore  to 
demean  and  shame  the  class  of  women;  it  is  also  to  deny  Halakhah 
its  power  to  Interpret  reality— and  live.  If  it  is  none  of  these  things, 
then  it  can  be  only  a  means  of  reserving  power  and  authority  as  an 
exclusively  male  prerogative.  Olherwise,  who  would  not  share 
Torah  with  all  who  seek  it. 

Finally,  we  come  to  a  consideration  of  the  place  of  women  in 
Jewish  liturgy.  If  prayer  is  a  form  of  Jewish  commitment,  if  women 
as  Jews  are  nourished  by  the  same  covenantal-redemptive  Vision, 
how  can  we  justify  excluding  them  from  the  unity  of  the  spiritual 
congregation?  Some  would  advance  the  familiär  set  of  hoary  argu- 
ments— that  the  honor  of  the  Community  is  diminished  by  women's' 
participation,  that  women  are  not  capable  of  making  a  sustained 
commitment  to  the  fixed  times  of  prayer,  that  women  are  unable 
to  handle  the  tension  between  this  pull  and  that.  But  are  these 
real  descriptions  of  a  whole  class  of  women?  Were  they  ever  in- 
herent  truths,  or  simply  convenient  excuses  to  preserve  the  Privi- 
leges of  a  male  fraternity  whose  business,  admirably  enough,  was 
God-centered? 

If  one  perceives  that  change  of  any  sort  goes  against  the  grain 
of  the  Halakhah,  then  there  can  be  no  shared  universe  of  discourse 
above  the  level  of  form.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  we  begin  with  the 
idea  of  Halakhah  as  the  divine  way  to  perfection,  then  we  can 
proceed  to  examine  form  and  essence  independently.  If  prayer 
(essence)  is  primary  in  the  Jewish  System  and  fraternity  (form) 
secondary,  the  next  stage  would  be  to  acknowledge  women  as 
equals  in  the  spiritual  Community  and  allow  men  to  find  other  ex- 
pression  for  their  fraternal  impulses. 

A  sense  of  Community  emanates  not  so  much  from  shared  physi- 


Ihe  Theoretical  Basis  of  Women's  Equality  in  Judaism 


49 


cal  presence  as  from  shared  memory  and  Obligation.  Thus,  a  Jew 
experiences  feelings  of  kinship  even  when  praying  in  the  privacy 
of  his  home.  The  inclusion  of  women  in  liturgy — public  and  private 
— becomes,  then,  a  building  up  of  tradition  and  Community,  not  a 
breaking  down.  If  young  boys  can  grow  biologically  into  Jewish 
responsibilities,  perhaps  it  is  not  too  much  to  expect  that  women 
can  grow  historically. 


VI 


So  much  for  an  idealized  rendering  of  Jewish  feminism.  Despite 
the  fact  that  the  theory  seems  to  fit — internally  consistent,  or- 
ganically  linked,  and  halakhically  coherent — there  remains  never- 
theless  much  fear  and  resistance,  the  kind  that  goes  far  beyond 
learned  considerations. 

The  antagonists'  charges  take  many  forms:  tampering  with 
Halakhah,  changing  the  unchangeable,  watering  down  Judaism, 
undermining  the  family,  destroying  virtues  of  female  modesty, 
blurring  sexual  roles,  mixing  religion  with  sexual  politics.  And 
finally  the  veiled  and  distant  threat  that  while  these  specific  emen- 
dations  in  Halakhah  in  and  of  themselves  may  be  fine,  all  this 
tinkering  ultimately  will  undermine  Torah,  tradition,  mitzvot, 
Halakhah,  norms,  faith,  stability,  rootedness;  in  short,  everything 
we  hold  so  dear. 

This  is  indeed  a  heavy  load  for  Jewish  feminists  to  bear.  Surely 
some  of  the  voiced  fears  serve  to  prevent  those  with  new  ideas 
from  veering  too  widely  off  course.  Nevertheless,  these  fears  must 
be  addressed  directly,  for  they  have  a  way  of  escalating,  of  feeding 
on  themselves,  of  losing  touch  with  reality. 

One  aspect  of  that  reality  is  that  the  Status  quo,  as  we  have 
inherited  it,  has  not  been  totally  static.  Surely  there  are  risks  in- 
volved  whenever  tradition  undergoes  change.  But  Halakhah  is  not 
to  be  treated  as  a  goses,  a  rapidly  failing  body  that  one  cannot 
move  lest  it  give  out  its  final  death  rattle.  Halakhah  was  intended 
to  be  preserved,  and  there  is  a  healthy  difference  between  preserv- 
ing  and  freezing  solid.  "Preserving"  does  not  preclude  bringing 
to  the  System  human  responses  that  will  enhance  and  expand  Torah 


w  J» 


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values.  Those  who  counfer  this  claim  vvith  labeis  o/  Conservative 
and  Reform  are  simply  playing  the  name  game,  an  easy  way  to 
avoid  confronting  the  issues. 

Taking  the  risk  at  its  very  worst,  if  giving  rehgious  equality  to 
women  should  turn  out  to  be  a  dreadful  mistake  for  ritual  Hfe, 
there  ought  to  be  that  recognition  and  assurance  that  halakhic 
Judaism  will  outlast  the  folly  of  any  Single  generation.  To  think 
otherwise  bespeaks  a  lack  of  faith  in  the  divinity,  as  well  as  the 
eternality,  of  Revelation  and  the  Covenant.  It  also  bespeaks  an 
overwhelming  pride  and  cosmic  immodesty  to  assume  that  the  en- 
tire  religious  enterprise  depends  wholly  on  human  action  or 
inaction. 

Let  US  now  turn  to  the  accusation  that  these  adaptations  consti- 
tute  a  watering  down  of  Judaism.  I  find  myself  thoroughly  con- 
fused  by  this  equation,  even  more  so  when  I  hear  its  paraphrase: 
"Strike  a  blow  for  Yiddishkeit,  keep  a  woman  from  learning 
Torah."  Does  the  encouragement  of  women's  learning  or  the  inclu- 
sion  of  women  in  the  prayer  structure  actually  sap  the  strength  of 
Judaism? 

If  the  religious  Community  operates  by  the  criteria  that  guided  us 
throughout  rabbinic  history,  then  this  accusation  must  fly  out  the  ' 
Window.  We  must  ask  the  proper  questions:  Do  the  changes  enable 
US  to  grow  as  Jews?  Do  they  enlarge  our  commitment  in  some  way? 
Are  they  serious  and  sustained  additions  to  the  religious  life?  Cer- 
tainly  an  increase  of  obligations  and  rights  for  women  cannot  be 
equated  to  adding  a  fifth  fringe  on  the  tzitzit  or  a  fifth  variety  to 
the  lulav/ 

The  Charge  that  Jewish  feminists  are  mixing  religion  with  sexual 
politics  must  be  examined,  not  denicd.  Those  who  say  it  is  unthink- 
able,  unwise,  unholy,  or  untraditional  to  speak  of  Halakhah  and 
political  pressure  in  the  same  breath  are  simply  hiding  historical 
facts.  Politics  and  pressure — the  substance  as  well  as  the  art — 
certainly  have  affected  halakhic  decisions  throughout  our  history. 
How  could  leaders  know  the  needs  of  individuals  and  special  in- 
terest  groups  if  not  through  politics,  pressure,  power  plays,  pro- 
test,  and  pleading.  These  actions  enabled  those  with  knowledge 
and  authority  to  bring  a  different  subjectivity  to  their  task  of  in- 
terpreting  the  law. 


The  Theoretical  Basis  of  Women  s  Equalit]/  m  Judaism      \      51 


The  issue  of  tzniut  has  often  been  invoked  in  discussions  of 
such  matters.  {Tzniut  is  the  concept  that  embraces  privacy,  mod- 
esty,  restraint,  decency,  and  chasteness.)  Is  there  a  loss  of  this 
virtue  as  women  take  on  public  and  private  roles  previously  as- 
signed  only  to  men?  Yes,  if  we  define  tzniut  to  mean  women  as 
"inside"  persons  with  no  public  presence  in  ritual  or  liturgy  and 
subject  to  circumscribed  actions  and  areas  of  control;  breaking  all 
these  taboos,  in  this  view,  constitutes  a  flagrant  violation  of  the 
norms  of  tzniut.  But  it  is  necessary  to  define  tzniut  of  women  more 
broadly,  that  is,  in  terms  of  its  characteristics,  not  its  role  limits. 
Tzniut  is  both  absolute  and  relative;  absolute  in  modes  of  behavior, 
dress,  Speech,  and  relative  in  all  those  things  as  well.  In  certain 
communities  at  certain  times,  a  woman  did  not  initiate  actions, 
speak  until  spoken  to,  or  venture  forth  into  public  places  (a  man's 
domain);  she  did  not  uncover  her  ankles,  elbows,  neck,  eyes.  What 
is  today  perfectly  acceptable  behavior  in  the  modern  Orthodox 
Community  in  speech,  thought,  dress,  and  action  was  unheard  of  a 
generation  ago.  Furthermore,  what  is  permissible  in  one  Community 
is  not  permitted  in  another. 

At  a  recent  Conference  in  Israel,  held  at  a  religious  kibbutz,  not 
a  Single  Israeli  woman,  not  even  the  s/iaif/-covered  wives  of  some  of 
the  yeshiva  rabbis,  wore  nylon  stockings  at  the  Sabbath  synagogue 
Services.  Sandal-covered  feet  were  considered  modest  enough;  not 
so  the  American  women  present,  who  wouldn't  think  of  showing 
up  in  shul  with  bare  toes.  And  at  a  recent  sheva  berakhot—ä  cele- 
bration  in  honor  of  the  newly  married  couple— the  young  bride,  a 
graduate  of  the  strict  Orthodox  Bais  Yaakov  school,  delivered  a 
d'var  Torah  (homily)  in  the  mixed  audience.  This  would  have  been 
considered  peritzut  (licentious  behavior)  a  mere  generation  ago. 

Even  in  the  most  closed  sectors  of  the  Jewish  Community, 
women  are  no  longer  inside  persons.  They  are  moving  inexorably 
in  the  other  direction,  into  Jobs,  careers,  higher  education,  com- 
munal  roles.  A  woman  who  assumes  a  public  presence  in  secular 
Society  without  overstepping  the  bounds  of  an  internal  modesty 
will  do  no  less  in  the  religious  sector.  To  enable  a  woman  to  be- 
come  a  bat  Torah  is  hardly  likely  to  lead  her  to  immorality;  to 
consider  a  woman  part  of  the  holy  congregation  will  not  lead  to 
profligacy.  Initially,  the  newness  of  it  all  may  jar  the  sensibilities, 


ON     WOMEN     AND    JUDAISM        |        52 


The  Theoretical  Basis  of  Womens  Equality  in  Judaism 


53 


but  soon  much  of  it  will  be  Uken  for  granted.  With  hindsight. 


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socicr/  is  2  Problem  or  izunense  gcr^erai  corxexn  to  whlch  rdlgioiis 
leaders  ought  to  put  their  energies.  It  should  not,  however,  be  con- 
hised  with  keeping  a  vvoman  in  her  place. 

There  is,  in  addition,  the  fear  that  there  will  be  a  blurring  of  the 
sex  roles  as  a  vvoman  increasingly  does  a  ''man's  thing."  This 
again  is  based  on  the  premise  that  authority,  leadership,  initiative, 
and  matters  of  the  spirit  (prayer)  and  the  mind  (study)  are  exclu- 
sive  male  prerogatives.  (Oddly  enough,  matters  of  the  spirit  and 
the  mind  seem  somehow  feminine;  but  never  mind,  we  now  know 
that  these  stereotypes  do  justice  to  neither  sex.) 

To  be  sure,  Judaism  places  very  heavy  emphasis  on  Separation. 
We  are  always  separating  things  into  their  categories,  Spaces,  time 
slots,  and  so  forth:  Sabbath  from  weekday,  milk  from  meat,  wool 
from  linen,  leaven  from  unleaven,  and  yes,  men  from  women.  In  ' 
doing  so,  the  uniqueness  of  each  thing  or  each  being  is  enhanced; 
a  sense  of  holiness  is  miraculously  established  through  the  com- 
mandments  of  setting  apart. 

One  cannot  deny  that  Judaism  has  succeeded  in  generating  a 
healthy  sense  of  sexual  identity,  and  we  must  be  on  guard  to  pre- 
serve  this.  But  it  cannot  be  done  in  ways  which  keep  women  sup- 
pressed,  nor  by  means  of  which  women  are  perceived  as  less  holy 
or  more  limited.  Moreover,  the  specific  repair  that  Jewish  women 
are  suggesting  need  not— indeed,  will  not— break  up  healthy  cate- 
gories of  male  and  female.  How  do  we  know  this?  From  what  we 
see  all  around  us.  We  once  had  imagined  that  women  as  executives 
and  priests  and  men  as  househusbands  and  kindergarten  teachers 
inevitably  would  become  either  masculinized,  feminized,  or  neu- 
tered  in  the  process.  Not  so.  Nor  have  women  rabbis  become  sirens 
or  man-like.  Somehow,  there  must  bc  other,  perhaps  finer,  ways  to 
keep  human  sexuality  intact  than  the  broad,  sweeping  functions  we 
have  inherited. 


fy 


Finally,  we  must  respond  to  the  oft-expressed  fear  that  equality 

in  Judaism  will  undermine  family  life.  Whether  it  is  their  disaffec- 

tion  with  family  life  that  drives  some  women  to  feminism  or  the 

new  knowledge  that  there  is  an  unstigmatized  alternative  (divorce) 

to  a  marriage  of  unequals  or  the  heavy  feminist  emphasis  on  self- 

actuallzation  that  somehow  generates  an  impatience  widi  th.e  difn- 

culties  of  building  a  relationship,  the  fact  is  that  an  exceedingly 

high  Proportion  of  women  with  feminist  leanings  have  been  or  are 

now  being  divorced.  A  Jew  committed  to  the  idea  of  family  stability 

is  rightly  scared. 

Yet  we  must  take  the  issue  apart.  Every  splintered  marriage  can- 
not be  laid  at  the  doorstep  of  the  women's  movement;  the  attempt 
to  repair  circumstances  of  abuse  or  powerlessness  in  a  marriage 
should  not  be  lumped  together  with,  say,  a  predisposition  to  cre- 
ating  a  tunnel  vision  about  the  female  seif.  The  shortfalls  of 
women's  liberation  are  used  too  easily  as  a  cover  for  maintaining 
the  Status  quo  in  Orthodoxy.  A  healthy  family  life  and  feminist 
values  certainly  are  not  mutually  exclusive.  Similarly,  füll  Status 
for  women  in  the  religious  life  of  the  Community  need  not  of  neces- 
sity  compete  with  marital  bliss.  On  the  contrary,  it  can  enhance 
the  relationship  in  many  subtie  ways. 

For  a  marriage  to  succeed  today,  there  must  be  a  general  equation 
of  partners.  There  may  not  be  perfect  equality  at  every  given 
moment;  in  fact,  there  may  be  large  periods  of  unevenness.  One 
character  and  personality  may  dominate;  sometimes  one  partner 
needs  and  takes  much  more  than  the  other.  In  a  good  marriage, 
however,  there  must  be  a  basic  minimum  perception  of  each  other 
as  equals.  It  is  to  this  center  that  the  relationship  returns  after  the 
inevitable  rough  spots;  it  is  this  cognitive  equality  that  lends  stabil- 
ity to  marriage. 

Such  a  psychological  valence  of  equals  is  not  generated  currently 
by  Halakhah,  neither  in  its  assignment  of  primary  mitzvot  to  men 
nor  in  the  legal  asymmetry  of  the  marriage  relationship,  as  divorce 
law  retrospectively  defines  it.  Those  who  persist  in  interpreting 
Halakhah  along  the  lines  of  male-female  hierarchy  truly  miss  a 
great  leadership  opportunity;  if  only  they  would  use  their  posi- 
tions  of  authority  to  strengthen  a  cognitive  equality,  without  which 
contemporary  marriages  seem  doomed  to  failure. 


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up  her  womb.  Women  will  not  abandon  their  babies  vvfioJesale  in 
Order  to  attend  the  moming  minyan.  Those  fevv  women  who  will 
choose  the  rabbinate,  with  its  open-ended  demands,  it  is  hoped  will 
choose  and  be  chosen  by  husbands  willing  to  take  up  the  family 
slack  (as  countless  rebbetzins  have  done  all  these  years).  And  a 
woman  who  learns  how  to  say  kiddush  er  havdalah  or  read  the 
Torah  with  correct  cantillations   is  not  destroying   the   fabric  of 
family  life  unless  we  willfully  define  it  that  way.  The  truth  is  that 
the  rigors  of  law  school  or  a  nine-to-five  job  or  a  demanding  career 
represent  far  greater  intrusions  into  family  life  than  the  religious 
responsibilities  that  will  fall  to  a  woman  under  a  true  equality  in 
Judaism.  If  anything,  the  participation  of  women  will  strengthen 
ritual  and  religious  institutions,  which  are  themselves  major  Sup- 
port Systems  of  family  life. 

These  are  times  for  learning  new  combinations.  A  young  woman, 
an  only  child,  wanted  to  say  kaddish  for  her  beloved  late  father. 
(Kaddish,  the  daily  prayer  by  mourners  during  the  eleven  months 
following  the  death  of  an  immediate  relative,  can  be  recited  only ' 
in  the  presence  of  a  quorum  of  ten.)  It  didn't  matter  to  her  whether 
she  was  counted  in  the  minyan  (she  wasn't);  all  she  wanted  was 
to  recite  the  ancient  memorial  prayer,  at  the  appropriate  time,  in 
the  appropriate  setting— in  this  instance,  at  the  early  moming 
synagogue  Service.  But  she  had  a  two-year-old  daughter.  Her  hus- 
band,  a  sociology  professor,  found  it  perfectly  natural  to  take  füll 
responsibility  for  the  early-moming  parenting.  When  queried  by  a 
suspicious  friend  as  to  his  own  liturgical  responsibilities,  the  young 
father  responded  with  candor:  yes,  at  first  it  did  interrupt  his  own 
prayer,  but  quickly  he  learned  to  adjust  the  schedule  to  his  little 
daughter's  needs,  at  no  loss  to  his  own  morning-prayer  routine. 

I  do  not  want  to  sound  glib  on  this  issue.  Family  stability  is  a 
variable  that  the  Community  must  monitor  continually  and  care- 
fully  with  each  new  change.  I  know  that  even  as  we  appropriate 
feminist  values  to  enhance  the  position  of  women  in  Judaism,  we 
must  take  care  to  maintain  a  dialectical  stance.  Without  yielding 
its  legitimate  claims  to  justice  and  quality,  we  have  to  be  able  to 


The  Theoretical  Basis  of  Women  s  Equality  in  Judaism      \      55 

separate  ourselves  from  those  elements  that  can  be  destructive  of 
Jewish  family  values:  an  excessive  emphasis  on  self-actualization 
that  can  erode  human  relationships,  a  commitment  to  family,  and 
the  need  for  continuity  in  a  Community.  But  we  also  must  refrain 
from  using  family  stability  as  a  blanket  slogan  in  the  name  of 
which  women  will  continue  to  be  read  out  of  the  fuUness  of  the 
tradition. 

What  I  envision,  then,  when  the  theory  of  Jewish  feminism  is 
carried  to  its  practical  conclusion,  is  an  adaptation  of  tradition  that 
will  allow  for  the  maturation  of  woman  as  Jew — learned,  respon- 
sible,  observant  of  Halakhah,  able  to  exercise  her  füllest  potential — 
a  woman  so  committed  to  the  Jewish  people  that  she  will  incorpo- 
rate  its  values  and  needs  as  she  begins  to  make  the  personal 
choices  society  now  holds  out  to  her. 


NOTES 


1.  See  Joseph  B.  Soloveitchik,  "The  Lonely  Man  of  Faith/'  Tradition  7 
(Summer  1965):  5-67.  Rabbi  Soloveitchik  writes  of  the  "democratization  of 
the  God-man  confrontation"  to  all  men;  it  seems  that  the  author  also  is 
describing  the  condition  of  women. 

2.  See  Leonard  Swidler,  Women  in  Judaism  (Metuchen,  N.J.:  The  Scare- 
crow  Press^  1976). 

3.  Simone  de  Beauvoir,  The  Second  Sex  (New  York:  Bantam  Books, 
1953);  Rosemary  R.  Ruether,  ed.,  Religion  and  Sexism  (New  York:  Simon 
and  Schuster,  1974);  Michelle  Z.  Rosaldo  and  Louise  Lamphere,  eds.,  Women, 
Culture.  and  Society  (Palo  Alto:  Stanford  Universily  Press,  1974). 

4.  Regarding  the  elimination  of  conflicting  responsibilities,  see  Sefer 
Abudraham  ha-shalem  (Jerusalem:  Usha,  1959),  Order  of  the  Weekday 
Prayers,  Ihe  Morning  Blessings. 

5.  Moshe  Meiselman,  Jewish  Women  and  Jewish  Law  (New  York:  Ktav, 
1978),  chap.  16. 

6.  See,  for  example,  the  commentaries  on  ve-haya  ekev  tishma'un,  Deut. 
7:12;  naval  bi-reshut  ha-Torah,  Lev.  12:2,  particularly  Nachmanides'  com- 
ments;  shiluah  ha-kan,  Deut.  22:6,  and  commentaries. 

7.  These  are  the  examples  found  in  the  Sifre  on  Deut.  13:1,  explicating 
the  law  neither  to  add  to  nor  subtract  from  the  mitzvot  in  the  Torah.  On 
this  verse  see  also  the  comments  of  B.  H.  Epstein,  ed.,  Torah  temimah 
(Jerusalem:  Hotza'at  Sefer,  1970). 


1 


Jewish  Women:  Coming  of  Age 


» 

ij 

» 

t 


npHE  role  of  the  Jewish  woman  today  is  defined  by  ancient  and 
-■•  deeply  rooted  historical  precedents.  It  is  for  this  reason  that 
contemporary  social  forces  have  a  different  impact  upon  her  role 
and  Status  than  such  forces  do  upon  women  in  general.  I  shall 
attennpt  here  to  clarify  some  patterns  in  the  development  of 
women's  role  in  Jewish  culture  and  society.  These  patterns  can 
serve  as  a  guide  to  those  who  feel  a  need  for  a  change  but  believe 
that  change  should  be  directed  by  modeis  within  Jewish  tradition 
and  should  be  articulated  in  proper  halakhic  categories. 

It  is  difficult  to  generalize  about  the  condition  of  Jewish  women 
throughout  history,  considering  the  different  societies,  life-styles, 
and  enormous  ränge  of  circumstances  to  which  they  adapted  them- 
selves.  Adding  to  the  confusion  is  the  disparity  between  laws  per- 
taining  to  women  and  the  historical  reality  reflected  in  the  same 
tradition.  It  is  no  surprise,  then,  that  this  amorphous  mass  of  data 
has  given  rise  to  contradictory  positions.  At  one  extreme,  some 
maintain  that  the  Jewish  woman  was  little  more  than  a  man's 
chattel.  One  source  they  cite  is  the  commandment  from  the  deca- 
logue?VYou  shall  not  covet  your  neighbor's  wife,  or  his  male  or 
female  slave,  or  his  ox  or  his  ass,  or  anything  that  is  your  neigh- 
bor's" (Exod.  20:14).  At  the  other  extreme  are  those  who  contend 
that  Judaism  placed  women  on  a  pedestal — not  only  was  the  Jewish 
woman  better  off  than  her  sisters  in  surrounding  cultures,  but  she 
was  also  a  higher  spiritual  being  than  man. 

One  favorite  proof  text  offered  in  support  of  the  latter  view  is 
the  biblical  account  of  creation:  woman  was  created  after  man. 


57 


OS    i-tJUlS    ASZf    JL'DAliU 


Co 


Jewish  Women:  Coming  of  Age 


59 


farther  up  on  the  ontological  scale  and  therefore  the  highest  form 
of  creation;^  woman's  creation  from  man's  rib  is  conveniently 
overlooked.  There  are  also  a  variety  of  Statements  from  rabbinic 
texts  to  show  how  the  Jewish  woman  has  never  stepped  down 
from  her  pedestal.  Since  neither  of  these  views  obviously  reflects 
the  vvhole  truth,  we  must  forgo  the  luxury  of  easy  generalizations 
and  instead  examine  as  carefully  as  we  can  whatever  evidence  is 
available. 


/ 


The  Bible  states  that  woman  was  created  to  serve  as  a  "fitting  help- 
mate  for  man"  (Gen.  2:18).  Her  chief  function  was  to  bear  chil- 
dren;  failure  to  do  so  was  a  trauma.  From  the  biblical  stories  of 
Rachel  and  Hannah  we  learn  that  the  harren  woman  was  ridiculed 
as  well  as  pitied.  Worse,  in  her  own  eyes  she  had  failed  (Gen. 
30:1  ff.;  1  Sam.  1:5  ff.).  Unmarried,  a  girl  was  subject  to  the  au- 
thority  of  her  father;  only  he  could  release  her  from  vows  (Num. 
30:4-6).  Her  father  could  give  her  hand  in  marriage  (Gen.  29:16- 
28;  Josh.  15:16;  Exod.  21:7;  Deut.  22:16).  When  she  married, 
authority  over  her  was  transferred  from  father  to  husband  (Num. 
30:7-16).  Her  husband  was  now  her  master  (Gen.  3:16).  It  is  no 
accident  that  the  Hebrew  word  ba'nl  means  both  "husband"  and 
"master." 

There  are  many  legal  distinctions  between  men  and  women 
drawn  from  biblical  literature:  a  wife  could  not  initiate  divorce, 
but  her  husband  could  divorce  her  if  he  found  some  fault  (Deut. 
24:1-4).  A  woman  could  not  give  legal  testimony  or  serve  as  a 
judge  (Deut.  1:13).  Inheritance  Privileges  were  denied  her;  indeed, 
in  certain  instances,  the  widow  was  regarded  as  part  of  her  hus- 
band's  property.'  Daughters,  however,  could  inherit  directly  from 
a  deceased  father,  but  only  if  there  were  no  male  heirs  (Num.  27). 

Women  were  also  protected  from  certain  abuses  of  the  law. 
Although  a  man  paid  a  mohar  (bride's  price)  for  his  wife,  he  was 
not  permitted  to  "resell"  her  or  dispose  of  her  at  will,  as  he  could 
with  his  other  possessions;  this  applies  even  to  a  wife  acquired  as 
a  captive  of  war  (Deut.  21:14).  Furthermore,  a  Hebrew  man  was 


f 


forbidden  to  seil  or  force  his  daughter  into  Prostitution,  a  wide- 
spread  practice  in  many  parallel  ancient  cultures.^  Many  biblical 
narratives,  such  as  the  stories  of  Dinah  and  Tamar,  indicate  that  a 
woman's  honor  was  highly  guarded,  carefully  protected,  and  occa- 
sionally  avenged  (Gen.  34,  38).  The  rape  laws  of  the  Bible  are 
unusual.  If  a  virgin  was  raped,  the  rapist  was  forced  to  marry  her 
(Deut.  22:28-29).  Of  course,  she  was  not  bound  to  accept  the 
rapist  for  a  husband,  though  she  might  choose  to  do  so,  fearing 
that  once  she  had  been  violated  no  one  eise  would  have  her.^  In 
torts  and  damages,  a  woman  was  protected  equally  under  the  law, 
with  few  exceptions.^  Finally,  the  position  of  a  mother  was  almost 
sacrosanct:  dishonoring  a  mother  warranted  the  curse  of  God; 
cursing  a  mother  was  a  sin  punishable  by  death  (Deut.  27:16; 
Lev.  20:9). 

There  is  a  striking  contrast  between  biblical  law  and  biblical 
narrative,  however.  The  law  presupposes  a  passive  woman  whose 
destiny  was  controlled  by  men,  but  the  narrative  portrays  matri- 
archs  as  powerful  figures.  The  text  does  not  stint  in  its  description 
of  women's  assertiveness  and  manipulative  powers  (Rebekah,  Jael, 
Bathsheba)  or  the  independence  and  sheer  force  of  their  personali- 
ties  (Rachel,  Hannah).  There  were  women  prophets  and  leaders 
(Miriam,  Deborah,  Huldah).  There  were  widows  of  very  substan- 
tial  means,  heirs  to  their  husbands'  wealthy  estates  (Judith  of 
Bethulia).  Still,  here  too  we  must  add  a  qualification:  throughout 
the  Bible  we  find  various  negative  Statements  about  women;  al- 
though these  have  no  legal  weight,  they  tend  to  offset  somewhat 
the  positive  value  judgments  and  narratives.*^ 

Beyond  the  legal  and  narrative  descriptions,  there  was  a  pro- 
found  religious  dimension  to  the  biblical  woman's  life.  What  were 
her  religious  obligations?  She  was  present  at  Sinai  and  experi- 
enced  Revelation.  She  was  obligated  to  observe  numerous  positive 
commandments,  such  as  the  dietary  laws,  the  Sabbath,  and  the 
hearing  of  the  law  every  seventh  year.^  Most  of  the  negative  com- 
mandments were  binding  upon  her.  Only  males  were  required  to 
make  the  three  annual  pilgrimages  to  Jerusalem  each  year  (Exod. 
23:17,  34:23;  Deut.  16:16),  yet  wives  often  accompanied  their  hus- 
bands  to  the  Temple,  where  special  areas  were  set  aside  for  women 
(1  Sam.  1-2).®  From  biblical  times  on,  the  woman  figured  most 


ON    WOMEN    AND    JUDAISM 


60 


importantly  in  the  transmission  of  religious  identity;  a  Jew  is  one 
born  to  a  Jewish  mother,  regardless  of  the  father's  religion. 

What  emerges  is  a  picture  of  a  woman  who  was  not  truly  equal 
but  by  no  means  persecuted.  Although  she  suffered  limited  rights 
in  matrimony,  divorce,  the  courts,  and  inheritance,  she  was  fairly 
well  protected  in  most  areas  under  the  law  and  on  occasion  was 
able  even  to  rise  to  a  position  of  national  importance.  Finally,  she 
had  significant  religious  obligations,  albeit  fewer  than  men,  to  ful- 
fill  as  a  participating  member  of  the  Community. 

One  caveat;  despite  the  fond  belief  of  some  apologists  that  the 
Israelite  woman  was  always  better  off  than  her  non-Jewish  coun- 
terpart,  ethnographers  believe  otherwise.  Egyptian  women  were 
equal  to  men  in  the  courts;  Babylonian  women  could  acquire  prop- 
erty,  take  legal  action,  make  contracts,  and  share  directly  in  their 
husbands'  inheritance.  In  most  areas,  however,  the  laws  regarding 
women  in  neighboring  cultures  were  quite  similar.  The  patriarchal 
marriage  customs,  for  example,  are  almost  identical  to  the  marriage 
rites  described  in  the  Hammurabi  codes,  circa  1700  b.c.e.® 


// 

The  picture  of  women  in  talmudic  times  can  also  be  said  to  elude 
easy  generalization.  All  the  laws  concerning  women  were  dis- 
cussed  in  great  detail;  in  some  cases  her  rights  wer^  expanded,  in 
others  they  were  limited. 

In  many  areas,  women's  Status  was  improved  under  rabbinic 
law.  For  example,  biblical  law  suggests  that  a  father  could  marry 
off  his  daughter  as  he  saw  fit.  The  rabbis  ruled  that  a  woman 
should  not  be  given  in  marriage  without  her  consent  (Kiddushin 
2b,  44a;  Yevamot  19b). '°  The  conditions  of  direct  inheritance  by 
daughters  were  expanded  (Bava  Batra  9:1;  Ketubbot  4:6,  13:3), 
although  a  wife  still  was  denied  direct  inheritance  from  her  hus- 
band  (Bava  Batra  8:1,  109b,  lllb;  Bava  Kamma  42b;  Ketubbot 
83b).  The  Talmud  ensured  a  woman's  right  to  retain  separate  prop- 
erty  that  she  owned  prior  to  marriage  (Ketubbot  78a).  Furthermore, 
the  biblical  mohar  and  the  talmudic  nedunyah  (dowry  money  spe- 
cified  in  the  marriage  contract)  were  held  in  escrow,  along  with 
any  other  properties  she  brought  with  her  into  the  marriage;  all 


Jewish  Women:  Coming  of  Age 


61 


these  conditions  were  stipulated  in  the  ketubah  (marriage  contract). 
All  of  this  was  returned  to  her  in  the  event  of  divorce  or  the  death 
of  her  husband  (Ketubbot  82b).'' 

The  ketubah  gave  her  security  and  provided  a  safeguard  for 
many  of  the  woman's  rights.  Her  husband  was  obligated  legally 
to  honor,  support,  and  maintain  her  in  proper  style,  pay  her  medi- 
cal  and  dental  bills,  ransom  her  if  she  were  taken  captive,  and  pro- 
vide  her  with  a  proper  burial  (Ketubbot  4:4,  51a).''  The  ketubah 
also  protected  her  in  the  event  of  a  divorce.  Biblical  law  stated 
that  the  husband  could  divorce  his  wife  if  he  found  something  dis- 
pleasing  {ervat  davar).  By  obligating  the  husband  to  pay  his  wife 
a  clearly  stipulated  amount  upon  divorce — over  and  above  the 
mohar  and  nedunyah — the  ketubah  tended  to  discourage  hasty  de- 
cisions.  The  rabbis  provided  the  woman  with  additional  protection 
by  limiting  the  legal  circumstances  under  which  a  man  could  di- 
vorce his  wife  (Gittin  90a);  this  did  not  necessarily  improve  the 
Status  of  women,  however.  Although  divorces  were  less  prevalent 
in  talmudic  times,  it  was  much  harder  for  a  divorced  woman  to 
remarry.  When  a  husband  had  to  give  valid  reasons  for  divorcing 
his  wife,  the  result  was  to  attach  a  certain  Stigma  to  her.  In  the 
Talmud  it  was  considered  disgraceful  to  marry  a  divorced  woman 

(Gittin  90b). 

Even  with  the  safeguards  provided  by  rabbinic  law,  the  woman 
was  still  passive  in  the  creation  and  dissolution  of  a  marriage.  As 
long  as  the  married  woman  remained  in  a  position  of  dependency, 
her  rights  generally  were  ensured;  as  soon  as  she  tried  to  assert 
some  mastery  over  her  own  life,  the  doors  began  to  close;  ''a 
woman  buys  herseif  [her  independence  and  freedom]  with  a  get" 
(Kiddushin  13b).  If  the  wife  wanted  a  divorce  and  her  husband 
did  not,  he  could  refuse  to  issue  a  get."  The  Talmud  gives  specific 
conditions  under  which  a  woman  could  seek  a  divorce  (say,  if  her 
husband  did  not  support  her  in  proper  style  or  did  not  satisfy  her 
sexually)  (Ketubbot  5:6,  77^)}''  All  of  this  was  an  important  step 
in  recognizing  the  woman's  prerogative  in  family  law.  Rabbinic 
law,  however,  allowed  no  provision  for  a  woman  to  write  and  de- 
liver  a  get  or  deposit  it  with  a  rabbinic  court. 

Throughout  the  centuries,  rabbis  have  forced  recalcitrant  hus- 
bands  to  grant  divorces,  leveling  various  sanctions  against  them 


ON    WOMEN    AND    JUDAISM 


62 


when  necessary  (Arakhin  5:6).  Yet  the  inequity  of  the  divorce  law 
at  times  has  caused  extensive  delays,  humiliations,  and  extortions. 
Arising  from  this  divorce  law  is  the  tragic  case  of  the  agunah 
(literally,  one  who  is  anchored).  An  agunah  is  a  woman  whose 
husband  has  deserted  her  or  is  insane,  missing,  or  presumed  dead, 
though  death  has  not  been  verified  by  a  witness.  Since  only  the 
husband  may  write  a  bill  of  divorce  and  under  these  circumstances 
none  is  forthcoming,  the  woman  is  not  permitted  to  remarry.  Sensi- 
tive to  the  plight  of  the  agunah,  rabbinic  law  made  admissible  the 
wife's  own  testimony  concerning  her  husband's  death  (Yevamot 
93b,  114b-116a);  this  was  done  to  spare  the  woman  from  being 
anchored  to  an  absentee  husband  for  the  rest  of  her  life. 

A  special  law  pertained  to  family  violence.  A  man  was  forbidden 
to  strike  his  wife;  if  he  Struck  her,  he  had  to  pay  reparations  for 
damages,  pain,  and  shame  (Bava  Kamma  8:1)."  Nor  could  a  man 
aggravate  his  wife,  for  her  tears  will  open  the  gates  of  heaven  and 
his  evil  deeds  will  be  known  (Bava  Metzia  59a).   Talmudic  law 
spelled  out  every  facet  of  the  law  as  it  applied  to  the  woman.  She 
was  exempt  from  those  positive  commandments  that  must  be  per- 
formed  at  specific  times,  such  as  wearing  the  tzitzit  and  tefillin, 
reciting  the  Shema,  and  the  three  complete  daily  prayer  Services 
(Kiddushin  29a;  Eruvin  96b;  Berakhot  20a-b;  Menahot  43a).  She 
was  exempt  also  from  certain  commandments  that  were  not  time- 
specific  (Eruvin  96h).''  In  various  communal  or  group  events,  she 
could  be  a  participant-observer  but  had  no  equal  Status  in  Per- 
formance of  ritual.  This  held  true  for  the  mitzvah  of  sukkah,  the 
celebration  of  Simhat  Bet  ha-Sho'evah,  the  redemption  of  the  first- 
born,  inclusion  in  the  minyan  for  grace  after  meals,  and  reading 
the  Torah  at   the  communal   prayer   service   (Sukkah  2:18,   53a; 
Kiddushin   34a;   Megillah   47b,  23a).   There   are   important   early 
precedents  in  Jewish  law  for  women's  obligatory  participation  in 
liturgical  and  ritual  areas,  such  as  reading  the  Book  of  Esther  on 
Purim  and  lighting  the  Hanukkah  candles  (Megillah  4a;  Shabbat 
23a).  Even  the  denial  of  the  privilege  of  being  called  up  to  the 
Torah  is  set  forth  in  language  that  suggests  a  positive  precedent: 
women  could  be  (and  presumably  were)  called  to  the  Torah,  but 
the  practice  was  discarded  because  of  the  honor  of  the  Community 
(Megillah  23a).^^  Although  Halakhah  allowed  for  a  female  shohet. 


Jewish  Women:  Coming  of  Age 


63 


the  Community  rarely  permitted  it  (Hullin  2a).  A  woman  was  obli- 
gated  by  biblical  law  to  say  grace,  but  the  Talmud  states  that  a  man 
whose  wife  (or  son)  says  the  blessings  for  him  may  be  "cursed"  in 
the  eyes  of  the  Community  (Berakhot  20b).'®  Women  were  sep- 
arated  from  men  in  the  Temple  (it  is  not  known  whether  this  origi- 
nated  in  talmudic  or  pretalmudic  times)  because  the  presence  of 
women  could  lead  to  an  atmosphere  of  frivolity  (Middot  2:5; 
Sukkah  5:1-4,  5lb).^®  By  extension,  men  and  women  also  were 
separated  in  houses  of  worship. 

The  Talmud  also  contains  varying  judgments  about  women, 
which  generally  reflect  the  feeling  of  the  individual  rabbis  who 
expressed  them  rather  than  any  particular  consensus.^^  There  are 
Statements  of  hostility  and  disdain,  equating  women  with  evil  and 
temptation.  "A  woman  is  a  pitcher  füll  of  filth,  yet  all  run  after 
her"  (Shabbat  152a).  "Women  are  greedy,  eavesdroppers,  lazy, 
and  envious"  (Nedarim  3lb).  More  typical  are  the  positive  State- 
ments of  love,  affection,  and  admiration  for  women — particularly 
women  as  wives — and  even  acknowledgments  of  dependency  upon 
her:  "He  shall  love  her  as  himself  and  honor  her  even  more  than 
himself"  (Yevamot  62b);  "If  your  wife  is  small,  bend  down  and 
whisper  in  her  ear"  (Bava  Metzia  59a),  that  is,  take  counsel  with 
her  in  all  matters. 

This  attitude  of  respect,  despite  the  limitations  in  her  legal  Status, 
may  have  been  won  in  the  home,  the  domain  in  which  woman  ex- 
celled:  "What  blessing  dwells  in  the  home  comes  from  the  wife" 
(Bava  Metzia  59a).  Her  primary,  preferred,  almost  Singular  role  in 
the  home  went  band  in  hand  with  release  from  wider  social  and 
religious  obligations  and  rights.  How  perceptive  the  rabbis  were  in 
understanding  (or  establishing)  this  connection  can  be  seen  in  their 
repeated  choice  of  the  psalmist's  phrase,  "All  glorious  is  the  king's 
daughter  within  the  palace"  (Ps.  45:14),  which  the  rabbis  interpret 
as,  "The  honor  of  a  woman  is  in  her  home."  They  applied  this 
phrase,  almost  as  a  talmudic  principle,  to  numerous  decisions  con- 
cerning women  (Shevuot  30a).  The  Talmud  seems  to  have  required 
women  to  be  passive  and  dependent;^^  many  of  the  laws  designed 
to  Protect  the  woman  reflect  that  very  passivity.  The  Talmud  extols 
virtues  such  as  modesty,  Submission,  and  forbearance,  all  qualities 
that  befit  a  woman  who  knows  her  place  and  stays  in  it. 


ON     WOMEN    AND    JUDAISM 


64 


Jewish  Women:  Coming  of  Age      |      65 


True,  there  were  some  few  exceptional  women  who  rose  to  in- 
tellectual  heights  or  great  levels  of  piety  and  received  recognition 
for  their  achievement,  but  they  did  not  generally  participate  in  the 
academies  of  learning  or  assume  leadership  positions  within  the 
religious  Community.  They  were  not  completely  unrecognized,  how- 
ever,  for  some  of  their  halakhic  interpretations  and  pious  acts  are 
recorded  in  the  Talmud  and  rabbinic  literature  (Eruvin  63a; 
Ketjbbot  c2h-63a).- 


'  •' ^  "      ■  «  I  «^ ;_ ^k 


V*' 


♦♦^ 


i^rrunir  sizrus. 


^-    — 


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zZLZjZZX,^^,    ^»Z^jZT* 


categor/  as  minors  and  slaves,  the  principal  difference  heing  that 
the  latter  two  could  grow  up  and  out  of  their  ascribed  limitations 
(Bava  Kamma  88a;  Berakhot  47b).  It  was  not  without  good  reason 
that  every  morning  a  male  Jew  vvould  recite  the  benediction, 
"Blessed  be  God  ...  for  not  having  created  me  a  woman  .  .  .  a 
slave  .  .  .  a  gentile."  No  one  for  a  moment  challenged  the  ap- 
propriateness  of  those  daily  morning  blessings. 


23 


The  Middle  Ages  reflected  the  persistence  of  certain  basic  inequali- 
ties.  Still,  woman's  position  gradually  improved.  In  approximately 
1025  C.E.,  Rabbenu  Gershom  of  Mainz,  Germany,  temporarily 
banned  polygamy  upon  pain  of  excommunication  (Shulhan  Amkh, 
Even  ha-Ezer  1:9-11);  although  its  time  limit  expired  in  the  Hebrcw 
year  5000,  polygamy  never  again  was  practiced  by  Jews  in 
Ashkenazic  Europe.^'  In  oriental  countries,  where  multiple  wives 
were  common,  Jews  continued  to  practice  polygamy  right  through 
the  modern  period.''  Rabbenu  Gershom  also  formally  banned  forci- 
ble  divorce  (issuing  a  get  without  the  wife's  consent). ""  Other  safe- 
guards  against  forced  divorce  also  were  added,  indicating  an  at- 
tempt  to  ameliorate  the  Situation  of  women. 

Medieval  rabbis  worked  to  ease  further  the  plight  of  the  agunah. 
Every  possible  decision  was  made  in  her  favor."  If  a  husband  was 
about  to  leave  the  Jurisdiction  of  the  court,  he  was  placed  under  ' 


vlJ 


'1 


oath  not  to  desert  his  wife;  where  his  behavior  warranted  it,  he  was 
compelled  to  divorce  his  wife  before  leaving  {Shulhan  Arukh,  Even 
ha-Ezer  154:8-9).  In  certain  instances,  a  married  man  could  not 
leave  a  Community  without  the  approval  of  its  leaders,  and  even 
then  only  for  a  limited  period  of  time  and  with  prearranged  guar- 
antees  for  his  family's  support."  This  worked  fairly  well  in  a 
closely  knit,  interdependent,  and  religiously  observant  society.  But 
there  still  were  many  instances  in  which  women  remained  agunot 
for  extended  periods  of  time. 

In  this  Century,  a  Geniza  discovery  was  made  of  several  ketubot 
more  than  a  thousand  years  old.  In  some  of  them,  the  wife  stipu- 
lates  that  her  husband  must  grant  her  a  divorce  if  he  takes  a 
concubine.''  It  is  clear  from  these  documents,  which  constitute  in- 
teresting  precedents,  that  some  women  negotiated  their  own  condi- 
tions  for  a  marriage  contract. 

Inheritance  laws  relating  to  the  Jewish  woman  also  were  up- 
graded,  and  many  Jewish  communities  enacted  legislation  whereby 
a  wife  could  inherit  directly  from  her  husband's  estate.  As  Ze'ev 
Falk  explains,  'The  widow  was  made  heir  by  will,  though  not  by 
law,  to  part  of  her  husband's  estate."^^ 

In  some  exceptional  instances,  women  were  allowed  to  partici- 
pate in  ritual  and  liturgical  areas  that  formerly  were  closed  to  them, 
such  as  being  counted  in  a  minyan  for  grace  af ter  meals  or  wearing 
the  ritual  garments  assigned  to  men."  By  the  thirteenth  Century, 
one  Scholar  was  sufficiently  self-conscious  about  the  morning  bene- 
diction  "Blessed  be  God  ...  for  not  having  created  me  a  woman" 
to  stress  that  it  was  "not  because  women  were  inherently  in- 
ferior.'"'' A  Century  later,  a  parallel  prayer  for  women  was  inserted 
into  the  liturgy:  "Blessed  be  God  ...  for  having  created  me  ac- 

cording  to  his  will."" 

Some  cite  Jewish  mysticism  of  the  medieval  period  as  a  wedge 
in  the  male-oriented  structure  of  Judaism.  The  kabbalist  literature 
does  contain  some  elements  of  a  feminine  theology;  the  Shekinah, 
the  divine  presence,  is  described  in  feminine  terms.  Mysticism, 
however,  had  little  bearing  on  the  real  Status  of  women  under  Jew- 
ish law.  Hasidism  undermined  somewhat  the  image  of  the  male- 
dominated  house  of  study  as  the  central  locus  of  Judaism,  but  the 
bulk  of  Jewish  tales  involving  women  still  centered  around  the 


ON     WOMEN     AND    JUDAISM        1 


66 


Jewish  Women:  Coming  of  Age 


67 


home  and  family.  Only  one  woman.  Hannah  Rachel,  the  Maid  of 

Ludomir,  rose  to  great  heights  in  Hasidic  hierarchy.  She  became  a 

rebbe,  leader  of  a  Hasidic  sect,  and  held  court  behind  a  curtain." 

Women  were  assiduous  in  their  piety  during  the  medieval  period. 

The  Ja  WS  of  niddah  fritaaJ  purin-  and  immarsiofl)  were  observed 


^ -'•••='-> 


•  \z 


i*».4*  C-     ^. 


-^^t^^L^cilZ     '^TTi 


ihem.  Ahhough  many  upper-class  /ewish  women  in  Spain  and  hä\y 
received  model  Renaissance  educations,  most  Jewish  women  were 
not  routinely  educated  in  Jewish  texts.'-^  A  populär,  though  some- 
what  exaggerated,  idealization  held  ihat  the  Jewish  woman  was 
content  to  work,  tend  to  all  the  family's  needs,  and  educate  her 
young  children  in  religious  observance  in  order  to  enable  her  hus- 
band  and  sons  to  learn  Torah.  At  the  end  of  days  she  would  sit  on 
a  footstool  at  her  husband's  feet  in  the  Garden  of  Eden.  It  was  an 
excellent  working  relationship,  and  the  Institution  of  marriage  was 
enhanced  by  common  goals  and  these  mutually  accepted  role 
designations. 

Many  ethical  wills  of  the  medieval  period  reflect  Jewish  attitudes 
toward  women.  One  father,  Judah  Ibn  Tibbon  (1120-ca.  1180)  of 
France,  writes  in  his  will: 

My  son!  I  command  thee  to  honor  thy  wife  to  thine  utmost  capacity. 
She  is  intelligent  and  modest,  a  daughter  of  a  distinguished  and  edu- 
cated family.  She  is  a  good  housewife  and  mother,  and  no  spendthrift. 
Her  tastes  are  simple,  whether  in  food  er  dress.  Remember  her 
assiduous  attendance  of  thee  in  thine  illness,  though  she  had  been 
brought  up  in  eiegance  and  luxury.  Remember  how  she  afterwards 
reared  thy  son  without  man  er  woman  to  help  her.  Were  she  a  hired 
nurse  she  would  have  earned  thy  esteem  and  forbearance;  how  much 
the  more,  since  she  is  the  wife  of  thy  bosom,  the  daughter  of  the 
great,  art  thou  bound  to  treat  her  with  consideration  and  respect.  To 
act  otherwise  is  the  way  of  the  contemptible.^^ 

IV 

From  this  Brief  sketch  of  the  position  of  Jewish  women  through 
the  span  of  many  centuries,  three  principles  emerge.  Laws  con- 


i 


cerning  woman  underwent  considerable  change;  her  position  was 
not  static.  In  fact,  her  Status  generally  improved;  most  of  the 
legislation  concerning  women — from  biblical  through  talmudic 
through  medieval— upgraded  her  position.  Further,  her  condition 
was  influenced  to  some  extent  (e.g.,  monogamy,  inheritance)  by 
the  Status  of  women  in  the  surrounding  cultures  and  societies. 
Rabbinic  scholars  were  responsive  to  society  and  in  many  instances 
incorporated  external  social  norms  into  their  own  legal  system. 

These  principles  seem  to  hold  much  promise  as  guidelines  for 
the  present  and  future.  Still,  there  are  two  basic  problems  we  must 
acknowledge:  first,  the  Jewish  woman  always  was  subjected  to  dis- 
abilities  in  certain  areas  of  Jewish  law,  just  as  all  women  have  been 
faced  with  disabilities  throughout  history.  That  these  disabilities 
have  been  codified  in  halakhic  decisions,  however,  makes  it  more 
difficult  to  engender  change.  Second,  the  role  of  the  Jewish  woman 
usually  was  assigned  to  her  by  men.  The  rabbis  had  the  sole  power 
to  determine  her  rights  and  obligations,  which  were  presented  to 
her  as  faits  accomplis.  In  other  words,  she  was  kept  Ignorant  of 
the  processes  of  development  of  Jewish  law. 

The  feminist  movement  generates  new  expectations;  it  has  its 
greatest  impact  on  Jewish  women  in  these  two  areas.  Like  all 
women,  Jewish  women  will  not  accept  inequalities  so  readily,  com- 
fortable  though  the  Status  quo  may  be  after  centuries  of  condition- 
ing.  Jewish  women  will  begin  to  recondition  themselves  to  what 
ultimately  will  be  a  more  satisfactory  Situation.  Indeed,  we  are 
witnessing  an  increase  of  Jewish  women,  learned  and  faithful,  who 
want  to  enlarge  their  religious  and  ritual  expression  of  Judaism. 
At  present,  these  women  are  capable  of  the  füll  ränge  of  human 
expression  and  learning;  they  are  not  asking  to  be  led  out,  they 
are  asking  to  enter  Jewish  life  more  fully.  To  discourage  them  in 
their  endeavors  is  to  act  contrary  to  the  ethics  of  Jewish  law,  the 

ethics  of  human  dignity. 

Similarly,  Jewish  women  now  must  begin  to  study  the  processes 
of  legal  Interpretation  and  innovation  to  enable  them  to  emerge 
from  a  position  of  ignorant  dependency  to  one  of  knowledgeable 
self-reliance  and  authority.  Women  must  apply  themselves  seriously 
to  the  difficult  demands  of  Jewish  scholarship;  perhaps  this  is  the 
only  route  that  eventually  will  lead  to  lasting  Jewish  liberation. 


->         *     i    Jt.  1    2         ^    J-    Z 


i  -   r  A. 


«:£ 


;1*i:H 


1 1 


-  -s^    •*--: 


.» • 


'Mjiv.isr.  v.c„^n  ca.-  expecr  :o  p.i>  a  creac-.e  rcle  in  irJ-jencir.g 

ratcinic  decisions  /or  oar  time,  not  only  in  tke  area  oi  v.omen's 

halakhic  Status  but  in  aJi  areas  o/  /ewish  Ji/e. 
Some  confront  these  chalJenges  by  saying  that  nothing  can  be 

changed.  This  is  certainly  not  true  of  Halakhah,  which  is  a  living 
System,  an  ongoing  process.  There  have  been  stringent  and  lenient 
trends  in  Jewish  law  in  every  generation.  By  combining  common 
sense  and  a  sensitivity  to  contemporary  needs  with  a  desire  to  re- 
main  faithful  to  the  Torah,  rabbis  in  every  generation  succeeded  in 
preserving  a  love  for  the  tradition  and  a  sense  of  its  continuity." 
It  is  important  to  emphasize  this  fact,  for  contemporary  resistance 
to  change  has  wrapped  itself  in  a  cloak  of  biblical  authority  and 
rabbinic  immutability.  Rabbi  Yannai,  a  leading  amora,  teaches  us 
otherwise: 

If  the  law  had  been  given  in  the  form  of  final  rulings,  the  world  could 
not  exist  (Rashi  explains:  it  is  essential  that  the  Torah  can  be  in- 
terpreted  this  way  or  that  way).  Moses  said,  "Master  of  the  universe, 
teil  me  which  way  is  the  Halakhah."  God  answered  him,  "Follow  the 
majority."" 

That  Jewish  women  are  beginning  to  grapple  with  the  problems 
is  a  healthy  sign,  because  halakhic  changes  never  occurred  in  a 
vacuum  but  always  in  response  to  real  needs.  Thus  the  extent  of 
the  change  we  shall  witness  will  be  in  direct  proportion  to  the 
amount  of  unrest.  It  will  take  a  lot  to  recondition  both  men  and 
women  in  the  Jewish  Community  to  these  new  values.  Maybe  un- 
rest and  rebellion  against  stereotypes  must  be  considered  the  grcat- 
est  merit,  and  lack  of  pride  and  simple  obedience  the  greatest  sin. 
A  large  part  of  the  responsibility  for  change  lies  with  Jewish 
women  who  must  articulate  more  openly  and  more  clearly  their 
own  needs.  Current  leaders  cannot  but  be  influenced  by  special 
pleading;  this  has  happened  many  times  in  our  history. 

For  the  present  generation  of  Jewish  women,  a  clear  mandate 
can  be  given.  In  the  areas  of  marriage  and  divorce,  the  remaining 
disabilities  should  be  removed  quickly;  enough  halakhic  ground- 
work  has  been  laid  to  allow  no  room  for  further  procrastination. 
The  unequal  Status  of  women  in  the  religious  courts  needs  halakhic 


Jewish  Women:  Coming  of  Age      |      69 

reinterpretation  and  repair.  There  must  be  a  flowering  of  women's 
prayer  and  an  encouragement  of  leadership  roles  for  women  in 
liturgy.  And,  most  important— the  means  whereby  all  of  these  will 
be  wrought— Jewish  women  must  begln  to  acquire  an  intensive 
Jewish  education  right  up  through  the  level  of  high-quality  rab- 
binic schools,  preferably  non-sex-differentiated,  so  that  each  will 
hear  the  Interpretation  of  the  law  in  the  presence  of  the  "other," 
so  that  they  simultaneously  grow  in  understanding  of  the  tradition. 
Only  then  will  women  become  part  of  the  learned  elite  of  our 
Community  in  whose  hands  is  vested  the  authority,  the  power,  the 
leadership,  and  the  Inspiration. 

An  eternal  Judaism  will  integrale  and  grow  with  such  changes 
because  these  changes  are  wholly  compatible  with  the  spirit  of  the 
fundamental  principle  of  Judaism— that  every  human  being  is  cre- 
ated  in  the  image  of  God.** 


NOTES 

1.  See  Aaron  Soloveitchik,  "A  Jewisli  View  of  the  Higher  Nature  of 
Woman,"  The  Jewish  Horizon,  November  1969. 

2  This  is  one  conclusion  that  can  be  drawn  from  the  Institution  of 
levirate  marriage.  In  certain  instantes  this  law  worked  to  the  disadvantage 
of  the  woman;  she  was  not  free  to  remarry  as  she  pleased.  In  other  instantes 
the  law  offered  her  protection:  she  did  not  go  unredeemed,  confined  to 
widowhood  and  childlessness  (Gen.  38).  At  some  point  in  biblical  history  Ihe 
law  of  levirate  marriage  became  a  matter  for  the  clan  and  not  on  y  the  im- 
mediate  family  of  the  deceased  (Ruth  2-4).  The  Bible  records  the  füll  ränge  of 
human  drama-love,  protection,  abuse,  power-that  was  played  out  as  a  result 
of  the  ioose  connection  between  a  man's  wife  and  his  possess.ons  (2  Sam. 
16:21-22;  1  Kings  2:22).  See  also  Roland  de  Vaux,  Ancient  Israel:  Us  Life 
and  Institutions  (New  York:  McGraw-Hill,  1965),  pp.  20-21,  38. 

3  It  is  true  that  Lot  was  prepared  to  give  his  daughters  to  the  townsmen 
to  have  their  sexual  pleasure,  but  this  was  seen  only  as  a  drastic  measure  to 
save  the  lives  of  Lot's  household  guests  (Gen.  19:8). 

4  This  law,  like  unjust  rape  laws  throughout  most  of  human  liistory, 
seems  to  imply  some  degree  of  complicily  on  the  part  of  the  victim.  In  that 
time,  however,  this  biblical  law  protected  her.  Moreover,  it  seems  clear  from 
the  other  laws  on  rape  that  the  woman  was  considered  a  victim;  there  was  a 
very  sharp  delineation  of  the  circumstances  under  which  she  could  be  con- 
sidered an  accomplice  (Deut.  22:13-28). 

5  In  this  respect,  biblical  law  was  years  ahead  of  contemporary  law 
where  court  Settlements  and  insurance   claims  paid   to  women   were,   unt.l 


ON     WOMEN     AND    JUDAIS 


M 


70 


Jewish  Women:  Coming  of  Age 


71 


Talmud  teaches  that  paymenU  for  pain  and   shame  were  made  direc  ly  ,o 


^3 


Hi 


•.  ^' 


»c^.^ 


'^'J    i-    i-i*i^«ir     j«f^     ^:nit      -  — , 


£xod   20:10  nor  i^  Deut.  5:14),  b.t  daughters  and  /emaJe  slaves  are.   Trai- 
tion  teacnes  tr.ar  rr.e  .ixe  is  ^.d^i,i  Ln  ir.e     you"  addressed  :o  her  h::=rar.d 

States    men  and  women"  (Deut.  31:12;  ne\\.  8:2-3). 

8.  See  Middot  2:5  and  Sukkot  51b  for  fuller  descriptions. 
A  L ''?'  ^^^^°/^^^^^^"-^"I*"raI   comparison,   see  de    Vaux,   Ancient  Israel. 
and  Martin  Noth,  Ihe  Laws  in  the  Pentatcuch  and  Other  Studies  (Philadel- 
pnia;  Fortress  Press,  1966). 

10.  This  rabbinic  decision  is  pegged  to  the  slory  of  Rebekah,  who  is  asked 
tor  her  consent.  Here,  as  in  other  instances,  Ihe  asmakhta  is  selective,  over- 
looking  evidence  that  points  up  the  reverse  Situation:  that  the  marriage  was 
contracted  by  the  "consenting"  males-EIiezer  representing  Abraham  on  one 
s.de  and   Laban  and  his   father,   Betuel,   on    the   other.   The   finality   of    that 
agreement  is  confirmed  by  the  description  of  Eliezer  prostrating  himself  in 
thankfulness  to  God  and  then  paying  the  bride's  price  to  the  new  in-Iaws; 
only  then  do  they  go  off  and  consult  Rebekah.  Such  is  the  power  of  asmakhta 
j-to  Interpret  Halakhah  and  enable  it  to  be  continuous  with  Torah.  See  the 
discussion  in  Chanoch  Albeck,  ed.,  Bereshit  Rabbah  (Jerusalem:  Wahrmann 
Books,  1965),  vol.  2,  24:57  and  p.  653,  n.  3. 

11.  He  was  entitled,  however,  to  invest  her  property  for  profit,  which 
became  part  of  his  estate,  not  hers  (Ketubbot  65b).  In  two  cases,  in  1958  and 
1971,  the  Supreme  Court  of  Israel  reversed  the  rabbinic  court's  decision  based 
on  Ketubbot  65b  and  upheld  the  1951  equal  rights  law  by  abolishing  the  hus- 
band  s  right  to  profits  from  his  wife's  property.  See  Stephen  Beiner,  "Israeli 
Divorce  Law:  A  Comparative  Study"  (unpublished),  p.  lO. 

12.  Maimonides  underscores  the  historical  development  of  the  different 
Protections  accorded  her.  See  Mishneh  Torah,  Hilkhot  Ishut  12:2. 

13.  It  is  only  the  husband  who  may  wrile  and  deliver  the  get;  until  the 
eleventh  Century,  the  wife's  consent  was  not  even  required  legally.  In  prac- 
tice,  however,  the  absolute  right  of  the  husband  to  put  aside  his  wife  was 
more  theoretical  than  practical.  Throughout  the  discussions  of  divorce  in  the 
Talmud  and  the  responsa,  it  becomes  obvious  that  this  theoretical  right  had 
ceased  to  exist  for  centuries  before  Rabbenu  Gershom's  ban.   Even  with   re- 
quirement  for  consent,  there  was  still  resistance  to  Rabbenu  Gershom's  for- 
mal decree,  which  was  not  incorporated  into  Sephardic  tradition  until  much 
later.  Maimonides  reaffirms  the  original  principle  that  a  woman  can  be  di- 
vorced  with  or  without  her  consent  (Mishneh  Torah,  Hilkhot  Gerushin  1:2). 
Thus,  the  importance  of  an  unfolding  Halakhah  to  stabilize  gains  in  women's 
rights.    See    Shulhan    Arukh,    Even    ha-Ezcr    119:6,    Isseries    commenlary; 
Responsa  Asheri  42:1. 


m 


14.  See  also  Shulhan  Arukh,  Even  ha-Ezer  76:11.  Motivated  by  an  aware- 
ncss  of  the  sexual  needs  of  women  as  well  as  men,  the  Talmud  established 
minimum  requirements  for  the  frequency  of  intercourse,  which  vary  according 
to  the  occupation  of  the  husband  (Ketubbot  6lb-62b). 

15.  Maimonides  seems  to  be  the  firsl  to  specify  husband-wife  relation- 
ships.  See  Maimonides,  Mishneh  Torah,  Hilkhot  Hovel  u-Mazzik  4:16-18. 

16.  See  Saul  Berman,  "The  Status  of  Women  in  Halakhic  Judaism," 
Tradition  14  (Winter  1973) :  5-28. 

17.  One  later  Interpretation  (Ritva,  Megillah  4a)  is  that  men  in  the  syna- 
gogue  would  be  put  to  shame  if  a  woman  was  able  to  read  the  Torah  and 
recite  its  blessings  while  they  were  not  able  to  do  so.  See  David  Feldman, 
"Woman's   Role    and   Jewish    Law,"   Conservative   Judaism    (Summer    1972): 

29-39. 

18.  Rashi's  commentary  interprets  "cursed"  as  shamed,  similar  to  the 
idea  of  kevod  ha-tzihbur  in  a  communal  setting  of  Torah  reading:  a  man 
would  be  shamed  if  his  wife  could  say  the  blessing  but  he  could  not. 

19.  The  Mishnah  teaches,  "Originally  ezrat  nashim  (the  women's  hall) 
was  all  level;  only  later  did  they  Surround  it  with  a  balcony  so  that  women 
should  look  on  from  above  while  the  men  were  below  them— in  order  that 
they  not  be  intermingled."  There  is  no  extant  gemara  on  these  passages; 
subsequent  commentators,  however,  all  suggest  that  this  was  done  specifically 
for  the  Simhat  Bet  ha-Sho'eva  celebration.  It  seems  that  women  were  initially 
allocated  a  special  courtyard  or  hall  in  the  Temple  complex.  When  the  men 
moved  the  celebration  to  the  women's  area,  they  (priests,  Leviles,  and  Israelite 
men)  expropriated  the  area  for  their  celebration,  which  was  quite  spectacular. 
They  constructed  a  balcony  so  that  women  could  look  on. 

20.  Judith  Hauptman,  "Images  of  Women  in  the  Talmud,"  in  Religion 
and  Sexism,  ed.  Rosemary  R.  Reuther,  pp.  197-208;  Leonard  Swidler,  Women 
in  Judaism  (Metuchen,  N.J.:  The  Scarecrow  Press,  1976),  chaps.  4-5. 

21.  Even  the  talmudic  description  of  the  optimal  coital  position  reflects 
this  attitude  (i.e.,  the  husband  should  be  on  top  because  he  should  take  the 
initiative)  because  the  commandment  for  procreation  is  upon  him,  not  upon 
her,  and  because  she  is  the  receiver,  he  the  giver.  See  Masekhet  Kallah,  at  the 
end  of  Berakhot.  In  Masekhet  Kallah  Rabali,  this  baraita  appears  at  the  end 
of  chapter  1.  See  also  Shulhan  Arukh,  Orah  Hayyim  240. 

22.  Swidler,  Women  in  Judaism,  pp.  97-111. 

23.  The  blessing  is  attributed  to  Rabbi  Meir  (Menahot  43b);  it  is  also 
found  in  Tosephta  Berakhot  6:23  in  a  more  original  form.  In  both  these 
sources  a  legal  rather  than  social  reason  is  given:  "Blessed  be  God  .  .  . 
for  not  having  created  me  a  woman"  because  woman  is  not  obligated  to  ful- 
fill  the  commandments,  such  as  tefillin  on  his  head,  tefillin  on  his  arm,  tzitzit 
on  his  garment— all  of  which  continually  remind  him  of  God's  presence.  The 
blessing  was  inserted  into  the  daily  morning  prayer  with  no  accompanying 

explanation. 

24.  This  would  have  been  socially  unacceptable  in  a  Christian  culture, 
where  the  celibate  life  was  considered  ideal.  Oddly  enough,  six  centuries 
later  Rabbi  Jacob  Emden  criticized  the  original  ban  as  an  aping  of  gentile 
customs.  Emden,  She'elat  Ya'avetz  (Lemberg:  1884),  2:15. 

25.  Simon  ben  Zemach  Duran,  Sefer  ha-Tashbetz  (Amsterdam,  1741),  no. 


O.S'     ;VOM£.S-    A\D    JLDAISU 


72 


Jeiüish  Women:  Coming  of  Age 


73 


94;  Rabbi  SoJomon  (son  of  Duran),  Teshuvot  RashhasK  no.  61A;  Teshuvot 
ha-Rashha  (Viina:  Komm,  1881),  vol.  4,  no.  257.  See  also  Teshuvot  ha~Rashha 
(Vjina;  Romm,  1875),  vol.  3,  no.  446.  In  1948,  when  the  Yemenite  /ews  were 
brought  to  Israel  in  Operation  Magic  Carpet,  many  arrived  with  several  wives 
in  tow.  In  response,  the  chief  rabbis  of  Israel  calied  a  national  rabbinic  Con- 
ference in  1950  and  passed  a  takkanah  making  monogamy  binding  on  all 
Jews,  regardless  of  their  social  or  geographic  origins.  Existing  polygamous 
unions  were  allowed  to  continue  unaffccled,  however. 

26.  In  European  Sephardic  culture,  where  Rabbenu  Gershom's  ban  was 
not  acknowledged,  the  Community  stepped  in  to  protect  a  woman  against  a 
forcible  divorce.  Rabbi  Solomon  ben  Aderet  cites  an  ordinance  where  consent 
of  the  majority  of  the  Community  was  required  for  divorce. 

27.  Isak  Parkas  Kahan,  Sefer  ha-agunot  (Jerusalem:  Mossad  Harav  Kuk, 
1954),  esp.  "Release  to  (re)  Marry  Grantcd  to  a  Witness  Who  Testified  on  the 
Death  of  a  Husband,"  pp.  31ff. 

28.  Benjamin  Ze'ev,  Responsa  (Jerusalem:  Stitsberg,  1959),  no.  64.  See 
also  Kahan,  Sefer  ha-agunot. 

29.  It  is  interesting  to  note  that  these  stipulations  were  made  in  ketubbot 
of  oriental  origin,  where  polygamy  was  neither  forbidden  nor  unknown.  S.  D. 
Goitein,  'The  Position  of  Women  According  to  the  Cairo  Geniza  Documents/' 
Papers  of  the  Fourth  World  Congress  of  Jcwish  Studies,  vol.  2  (Jerusalem 
1968),  pp.  177-79;  idem,  "Jewish  Women  in  the  Middle  Ages,"  Hadassah 
Magazine  (October  1973).  See  also  Mordecai  Friedman,  'The  Ethics  of  Medie- 
val  Jewish  Marriage,"  in  Religion  in  a  Religious  Age,  ed.  S.  D.  Goitein  (Cam- 
bridge, Mass.:  Association  for  Jewish  Sludies,  1974),  pp.  83-101;  Ze'ev  Falk, 
Jewish  Matrimonial  Law  and  The  Divorce  Action  hy  the  Wife  in  Jewish  Law 
(Jerusalem:  Hebrew  University,  1973). 

30.  Falk,  Jewish  Matrimonial  Law,  cites  the  following:  Mordecai,  Nashim  ' 
70;  Meir  of  Rothenberg,  Responsa   (Prague  ed.)   875;  Joel  Muller,   Teshuvot 
hakhmei  Zarfat  ve-Lotir  (Vienna,  1881),  pp.  13,  47,  49,  51.  On  the  question 
of  direct  inheritance,  see  Isadore  Epstein,  ed.,  The  Responsa  of  Rabbi  Solomon 
ben  Adreth  (New  York:  Ktav,  1968),  p.  85f. 

31.  Mordecai,  Berakhot  173;  Piskei  Mordecai,  Hilkhot  K'tanot  949  See 
Mishneh  Torah,  Hilkhot  Tzitzit  3:9;  Eruvin  96a;  Rosh  Hashanah  33a;  Hullin 
110b,  86b;  Hagigah  16b;  and  the  Ran's  comments  on  Rabbenu  Tam's  ruling 
of  women  permitted  to  say  a  blessing  on  positive  time-bound  commandments 
in  Ran,  Commentary  on  Alfasi  (Rosh  Hashanah,  955). 

32.  As  mentioned  above,  n.  23,  the  "more  mitzvot"  reason  is  given  in 
the  Talmud  and  the  Tosefta.  Rabbi  Yaakov  Anatoli,  a  thirteenth-century 
halakhist,  repeats  it  with  his  disclaimer  about  women's  inferiority.  On  this 
same  theme,  see  Samson  Raphael  Hirsh,  Commentary  on  the  Torah  (London: 
I.  Levy,  1962),  Lev.  23:  43. 

33.  Sefer  Abudraham  ha-shalem  (Jerusalem:  Usha,  1959),  Order  of  the 
Weekday  Prayers,  Morning  Blessings. 

34.  See  Harry  M.  Rabinowicz,  World  of  Hasidism  (London:  Valentine, 
Mitchell,  1970),  pp.  205-7. 

35.  A  tradition  deriving  from  an  interpretation  of  Rabbi  Eliezer's  State- 
ment, "He  who  teaches  his  daughter  Torah  is  as  if  he  has  taught  her  lewd- 
ness"  (Sotah  3:4).  Torah  there  refers  to  the  possible  merit  a  sotah  may  have 


^ 


i! 

« 


that  would  Warrant  postponing  punishment.  Very  few  rabbinic  Statements 
have  been  taken  so  far  afield  from  their  context.  Nonetheless,  one  must  point 
to  the  social  and  religious  values  in  the  Jewish  Community  that  permitted 
interpretations — so  negative  to  women's  intellectual  capacity — to  crop  up 
continually  throughout  the  rabbinic,  medieval,  and  modern  periods.  See  Israel 
Abrahams,  Jewish  Life  in  the  Middle  Ages  (New  York:  Atheneum,  1969),  p. 
340f;  Simcha  Assaf,  Sources  in  the  History  of  Education  in  Israel  (Tel  Aviv: 
Dvir,  1954),  vol.  1. 

36.  Israel  Abrahams,  ed.,  Hebrew  Ethical  Wills  (Philadelphia:  The  Jew- 
ish Publication  Society  of  America,  1976),  p.  78. 

37.  Eliezer  Berkovits,  "Conversion  According  to  Halakhah — What  Is  It?" 
Judaism  23  (Fall  1974):  467-78;  Emanuel  Rackman,  One  Man's  Judaism  (New 
York:  Philosophical  Library,  1970). 

38.  Jerusalem  Talmud,  Sanhedrin,  eh.  4,  halakhah  2  (16a). 

39.  See  Irving  Greenberg,  "Jewish  Tradition  and  Contemporary  Prob- 
lems," in  Relationships  between  Jewish  Tradition  and  Contemporary  Social 
Jssues  (New  York:  Yeshiva  University,  1969). 


ON     WOMEN    AND    JUDAIS 


M 


104 


positive  commandment  Ihat  is  not  time-bound  '  ^''''  ''  " 


Jn  Defense  of  the  ''Daughters 

of  Israel':  Observations  on 

Niddah  and  Mikveh 


A  Very  Private  Affair 

QEVERAL  years  ago,  on  a  June  evening,  my  husband  and  I  left 
^  our  children  in  the  care  of  a  baby-sitter  and  went  out  for  two 
hours.  I  had  told  the  baby-sitter  and  Moshe,  the  only  child  still 
awake  at  that  hour,  that  we  were  going  Shopping.  I  knew  that 
Moshe  vvould  be  asleep  by  the  time  we  returned,  so  there  was  no 
question  of  having  to  deal  with  the  natural  inquisitiveness  of  a  six 
year  old.  I  also  knew  that  Patti,  our  baby-sitter,  the  teenage  daugh- 
ter  of  our  Irish  Catholic  neighbors,  was  too  well  bred  to  inquire 
why  I  had  come  back  from  Shopping  with  no  packages  but  with  a 
headful  of  long,  wet  hair. 

It  was  not  that  I  was  ashamed  to  talk  about  mikveh,  the  ritual 
bath.  But  because  the  subject  is  so  fraught  with  modesty  and  taboo, 
I  would  have  preferred  to  avoid  it.  What  I  didn't  anticipate  upon 
our  return  was  to  find  an  old  friend  who  had  stopped  by  the  house. 
Carol  and  I  had  been  in  graduate  school  together  for  four  years. 
She  knew  a  little  about  Jewish  life;  her  grandparents  had  been 
Orthodox.  Unlike  some  people  of  their  liberal,  intellectual  back- 
ground,  Carol  and  her  husband  were  not  antagonistic  toward 
Judaism.  On  the  contrary,  while  they  would  have  none  of  Shabbat, 
kashrut,  synagogue  life,  or  day-school  education  for  themselves  or 


105 


ON     WOMtN     AND    JUDAISM 


106 


their  son,  they  were  nevertheless  quite  respectful  of  our  way  of 
life. 

Carol  has  an  incredible  mind.  Anything  she  had  ever  read  or 
heard  was  tucked  away  in  some  crevice  of  memory,  to  be  recalled 
instantly  at  the  proper  moment.  Somewhere  in  the  past,  maybe  in 
her  brief  bout  with  Hebrew  school  fifteen  years  earlier,  she  had 
heard  about  mikveh.  Thus,  she  was  able  to  put  it  all  together  im- 
mediately— wet  hair,  street  clothes,  no  packages— and  come  up 
with  an  answer.  The  moment  the  baby-sitter  closed  the  door  behind 
her,  Carol  blurted  out,  "Do  you  really  practice  that?  Do  you 
actually  go  to  the  .  .  .  the  mikveh?" 

For  the  first  time  in  my  life  I  had  the  feeling  that  someone  was 
seeing  me  as  some  kind  of  aborigine  disguised  in  twentieth-century 
garb.  I  found  myself  at  a  loss  for  words.  It  was  a  subject  that  lay 
very  quiet  and  deep  inside  of  me.  I  then  had  been  married  for  ten 
years.  No  one  had  ever  asked  me  why  I  observed  the  laws  of 
niddah.  (Niddah,  it  should  be  noted,  has  several  meanings,  depend- 
ing  on  the  context:  the  laws  pertaining  to  niddah;  the  State  of 
being  sexually  unavailable;  that  time  of  month  that  includes  men- 
strual  flow  and  after-period;  a  woman  in  a  State  of  niddah.)  I  had 
never  even  asked  myself  the  question  or  discussed  it  with  my  par-' 
ents,  sisters,  or  friends,  not  even  with  my  husband,  who  observed 
the  practice  with  me.  In  fact,  the  dosest  I  had  come  to  a  discussion 
of  the  matter  was  when  a  high-school   friend  confided  that  her 
mother  said  she  feit  like  a  bride  each  month  after  going  to  the 
mikveh.  It  embarrassed  me  that  a  mother  could  make  so  suggestive 
and  revealing  a  disclosure  to  a  daughter,  and  for  the  rest  of  my 
impressionable  teen  years  I  could  not  look  at  that  pious  woman 
without  a  headful  of  immodest  imaginings. 

It  wasn't  that  I  didn't  know  the  laws  or  the  ancient  and  con- 
temporary  meanings  attached  to  them.  I  had  read  many  of  the 
"little  books"  on  the  subject;  they  succeeded  in  neither  frightening 
me  nor  inspiring  me.  Being  a  good  "daughter  of  Israel"— the  phrase 
is  a  euphemism  for  one  who  observes  the  laws  of  niddah  and 
mikveh— it  never  occurred  to  me  that  I  would  do  anything  other 
than  keep  the  particular  practice.  Just  as  my  mother  and  mother-in- 
law  went  to  some  vague  "meeting"  once  a  month,  there  was  no 


In  Defense  of  the  'Vaughters  of  Israel' 


107 


doubt  that  I  too  would  carry  on  the  chain  of  tradition.  But  like 
many  such  things,  I  took  the  whole  matter  of  mikveh  for  granted. 
I  had  managed  to  appropriate  intact  its  grand  claims,  but  I  had  no 
sense  of  what  positive  meaning  it  had  for  me.  Nor  could  I  articu- 
late  what  I  was  doing  or  thinking  during  those  occasional  times— 
and  there  were  such — when  it  was  a  hardship  or  a  nuisance  for  me 
to  observe  this  mitzvah. 

I  think  I  mouthed  some  cliches  to  Carol  and  then  quickly 
changed  the  subject.  In  time,  Carol  went  on  to  become  a  well- 
known  psychoanalyst,  was  divorced,  remarried,  and  divorced 
again.  The  last  I  heard,  she  was  making  a  fortune  in  private  prac- 
tice in  Los  Angeles  and  writing  a  book.  I  haven't  seen  her  for 
fifteen  years,  but  once  a  month,  as  I  comb  out  my  wet  hair  in  the 
mikveh,  I  chuckle  inwardly  as  her  astounded  expression  passes 
before  my  eyes.  Over  the  years,  I  have  begun  to  sort  out  some  of 
my  feelings  about  this  mitzvah,  so  powerful  that  it  manages  to 
control  and  make  a  Statement  about  a  human  drive  that  every- 
where  eise  no  longer  seems  to  be  subject  to  boundaries  established 
by  law,  culture,  or  even  family  values. 

The  mikveh,  as  we  all  know,  has  come  under  attack  by  Jewish 
feminists,  not-so-Jewish  feminists,  and  not-so-feminist  Jews.  Carol 
didn't  say  so,  but  she  probably  thought  to  herseif,  "Mikveh. 
Ahah!  'Primitive  blood  taboo.'  Outmoded  and  demeaning  notions 
of  'unclean  and  impure'!"  Perhaps  some  of  these  elements  at  one 
time  or  another  were  associated  with  the  concept  of  niddah.  Today 
they  hold  no  weight,  however,  at  least  not  for  me  nor,  I  believe,  for 
most  of  the  women  who  lovingly  or  reflexively  take  upon  them- 
selves  the  Obligation.  Besides,  one  just  as  easily  could  defend  niddah 
in  terms  of  its  function  in  a  prefeminist  society.  For  example, 
niddah  was  intended  to  protect  women's  selves  and  sexuality;  not 
bad,  considering  that  society  was  oriented  to  the  female  serving  the 
male,  sexually  and  otherwise.  Niddah  also  provided  safeguards 
against  women  becoming  mere  sex  objects;  even  when  the  law 
could  not  change  social  perceptions,  at  least  it  minimized  those 
times  when  this  attitude  could  be  acted  upon.  Finally,  the  Talmud 
gives  the  most  functional  view  of  all,  sexist  though  the  language 
may  seem  today;  "Because  a  man  may  become  overly  familiär  with 


('»«•, 


:.j»    •^::j^ii*   ^xr  :zDAiBxi 


1» 


"•— '       ^  —     '.        ^•-•k-'       -•—»-..     — ^^VOU^^^      ^^>       -.r^  ^/^       ^     ^l-iC-.      i^trC-       ,.-rCg^         >^^        -   ^fi_  11-^ 

r:^e  a  ::.cc?.u  hr  se-zen  ciea.-;  ::^/>  jV^iioyyir.;^:  r/.i^»>e>j  >o  riv^r  s/ie 
will  be  as  beloved  fto  him  after  niddahj  as  on  the  day  of  her 
marriage"  (NiddahSlb). 


I'  ( 


^\:'^.T— ^     ►jrvU»^'»^ÜX    -i? 


T/i^  Law  and  Its  Practice 

The  Bible  lays  down  the  initial  principles  of  physical  Separation 
during  menses : 

When  a  woman  has  a  discharge,  her  discharge  being  blood  from  her 
body,  she  shall  remain  in  her  impurity  seven  days;  whoever  touches 
her  shall  be  unclean  until  evening.  (Lev.  15:19)^ 

Do  not  come  near  a  woman  during  her  period  of  uncleanness  to  un- 
Cover  her  nakedness.  (Lev.  18:19)- 

If  a  man  lies  with  a  woman  in  her  infirmity  and  uncovers  her  naked- 
ness, he  has  laid  bare  her  flow  and  she  has  exposed  her  blood  flow; 
both  of  them  shall  be  cut  off  from  all  the  people.  (Lev.  20:18) 

In  the  rabbinic  explication  of  biblical  tradition,  we  find  that  the 
minimum  niddah  period  increases  from  seven  to  twelve  days^ — , 
that  is,  a  five-day  minimum  allotted  for  the  flow  and  seven  days 
for  the  "whites/'  the  additional  days  of  Separation.^  (A  word  about 
the  use  of  the  term  "whites":  I  do  not  like  the  term  seven  "clean" 
days,  which  all  of  the  English  sources  employ,  for  it  evokes  its 
counterpart,  "unclean."  I  therefore  prefer  "whites/'  which  is  the 
literal  translation  of  the  talmudic  levanim,  the  white  garments  that 
women  were  required  to  wear  during  those  seven  days  in  order  to 
facilitate  the  search  for  stains.)  If  the  flow  or  the  staining  lasts 
longer  than  five  days/  the  seven-day  "white"  count  begins  after 
the  last  day  of  flow.°  The  whole  cycle  is  completed  with  immer- 
sion.^  This  is  known  as  tevilah.  Afterward,  a  woman  can  resume 
sex  until  the  next  menstruation,  some  two  and  a  half  weeks  later. 
The  tevilah  is  also  attended  by  numerous  details.  Unless  there  are 
extenuating  circumstances,  the  immersion  takes  place  in  the  even- 
ing, after  dark,  at  the  completion  of  the  twelfth  day. 

As  for  the  mikveh  itself,  there  are  numerous  laws  concerning 
the  mikveh  and  its  construction.  In  fact,  a  whole  tractate  of  the 


basin  that  is  drained  each  day).  The  word  mikveh  simply  means  a 
collection  (of  water).  This  must  be  stationary  water,  not  flowing, 
as  from  a  tap,  and  its  sources  must  be  natural — rain  water,  wells, 
natural  ice,  or  ocean  or  lake  water.  As  the  ancient  rabbis  were  of  a 
practical  nature,  however,  and  since  it  would  be  difficult  to  collect 
all  that  water  naturally,  they  legislated  that  only  a  certain  per- 
centage  of  these  natural  waters  is  required  to  constitute  a  kosher 
mikveh;  the  rest  may  be  made  up  from  regulär  tap  or  drawn  water. 
A  lake  or  ocean  may  be  used  for  the  purpose,  although  there  is 
halakhic  concern  that  out  of  fear  of  such  waters  the  immersion  will 
not  be  performed  properly. 

Since  the  destruction  of  the  Second  Temple,  the  mikveh  has  been 
used  primarily  for  women,  but  there  are  other  uses  for  it  as  well. 
Some  men  go  to  the  mikveh  to  purify  themselves  before  certain 
holidays,  particularly  Yom  Kippur.  Mikveh  is  also  the  final  step  in 
conversion  to  Judaism.  Many  traditional  Jews  also  immerse  their 
new  Utensils  in  the  mikveh  before  using  them.  For  these  other  pur- 
poses,  the  mikveh  is  used  only  during  the  day.  You  will  never  see 
a  man  about  the  mikveh  at  night.  The  men  who  accompany  their 
wives  to  the  mikveh— and  this  is  often  the  case— sit  in  their  cars 
parked  down  the  street  aways. 


In  the  Mikveh 

If  you  have  never  been  to  a  mikveh,  this  is  what  to  expect.  First 
you  are  asked  whether  you  want  a  "private"  or  a  "semiprivate." 
Private  means  that  the  mikveh  basin  (a  small,  deep  pool)  is  in  the 
same  room  where  you  bathe  in  a  regulär  tub  to  prepare  for  the 
immersion;  semiprivate  and  shower  mean  that  you  bathe  or  shower 
in  your  room  but  must  go  into  an  adjacent  room  to  use  the  mikveh 
basin.  Depending  on  the  construction  of  the  semiprivate,  it  can  be 
like  playing  musical  doors— all  doors  that  lead  to  the  mikveh  basin 
are  closed  before  your  door  is  opened— so  that  you  will  have  com- 


ON    WOMEN    AND    JUDAISM 


110 


plete  privacy  vvhile  immersing.  Before  the  bath,  you  brush  your 
teeth,  rinse  your  mouth,  trim  your  nails,  and  remove  all  makeup, 
dentures,  rings — anything  that  is  not  part  of  the  body.  After  the 
bath,  you  rinse  off  in  the  shower,  or  just  the  latter  if  you  have 
already  bathed  at  home  that  evening.  (This  elaborate  ritual  of 
cleansing,  incidentally,  is  further  proof  that  the  mikveh  has  nothing 
to  do  with  personal  hygiene  or  cleanliness.)  You  comb  out  your 
hair,  which  you  have  just  shampooed,  and  wrap  yourself  in  a  white 
sheet  or  tovvel.  Then  you  press  the  buzzer,  which  summons  the 
"mikveh  lady." 

Mikveh  ladies  come  in  several  varieties.  I  have  been  to  a  dozen 
different  mikvehs  over  the  last  twenty  years,  and  each  mikveh  lady 
has  her  own  style.  They  are  generally  sensitive,  devout  women  who 
are  kind  but  not  prying.  They  have  a  rather  pleasant,  quiet,  busi- 
nesslike  manner  that  is  exactly  called  for  in  so  personal  a  Situation. 
Occasionally,  you  will  run  across  a  mikveh  lady  who  has  some 
idiosyncracies,  such  as  entering  your  room  without  knocking  to  see 
if  you  are  ready,  or  one  who  will  fight  you  over  another  sixteenth 
of  an  inch  of  your  carefully  trimmed  fingernails,  or  even  one  who, 
without  any  warning  whatsoever,  will  run  a  comb  through  your 
pubic  hair  while  you  stand  there  in  total  shock.  In  all  fairness,  . 
however,  these  are  the  sum  total  of  grievances  Tve  heard  concern- 
ing  mikveh  ladies  over  the  years. 

The  mikveh  lady  checks  to  see  if  you  have  prepared  yourself 
properly  (trimmed  nails,  etc.).  She  looks  you  over  to  see  if  there 
are  any  loose  hairs  on  your  body,  which  she  gently  removes.  Hold- 
ing on  to  the  side  of  the  rail,  you  walk  down  a  few  steps  to  the 
bottom  of  the  mikveh — the  water  is  about  Shoulder  height.  With 
legs  slightly  part,  lips  and  eyes  closed  but  not  clenched  tightly, 
arms  spread  a  bit  at  your  sides  but  not  touching  the  side  walls, 
you  bend  your  knees  in  a  crouching  position  and  go  completely 
under.  If  you  have  long  hair  you  have  to  go  a  little  deeper,  so  that 
every  Strand  of  hair  will  be  under  water.  You  don't  have  to  stay 
under  the  water  for  even  an  extra  second.  All  you  have  to  do  is 
immerse  yourself  completely  and  then  come  right  up.  If  you've 
done  it  right  (every  bit  of  you  below  the  water  line)  your  mikveh 
lady  will  pronounce  it  "kosher.'' 

Then,    Standing   there   in    the   water,  you   recite   the   blessing: 


hl  Dcjensc  cj  uic    Du^^hicrs  cj  ln^Ci'      ^      111 

Barukh  ata  adonai  eloheinu  melekh  ha-olam  asher  kideshanu 
be-mitzvotav  ve-tzivanu  al  ha-tevilah  (Blessed  are  You  O  Lord,  our 
God,  King  of  the  Universe,  who  has  sanctified  us  by  His  command- 
ments  and  commanded  us  concerning  immersion).  Other  blessings 
are  often  added,  the  most  common  one  being  the  yehi  ratzon:  "May 
it  be  Your  will  O  Lord,  our  God  and  God  of  our  fathers,  that  the 
Temple  be  speedily  rebuilt  in  our  time;  give  us  our  portion  in  Your 
Torah,  so  that  we  may  serve  You  with  awe  as  we  did  in  days  of 
old.  And  we  shall  offer  to  You  the  thanks  offering  of  Judea  and 
Jerusalem  as  was  done  in  years  gone  by."^  Many  women  cover 
their  heads  with  a  terry  cloth,  which  the  mikveh  lady  hands  them, 
before  saying  the  blessing.  (It  does  seem  rather  incongruous,  cov- 
ering  one's  head  in  modesty  and  respect  when  all  the  rest  of  you  is 
Standing  there  stark  naked.  But  that's  how  it  is  often  done.) 

After  the  blessings,  you  dip  under  two  more  times;  each  time,  the 
mikveh  lady  pronounces  it  "kosher."  Then  you  come  up  the  steps, 
and  she  wraps  a  white  sheet  around  you  and  leaves  the  room  for 
you  to  dress.  Before  you  leave,  you  pay  a  mikveh  fee  that  ranges 
from  three  to  ten  dollars.  (In  no  way  does  the  fee  cover  the  cost 
of  running  the  mikveh,  which  is  heavily  subsidized  by  the  Com- 
munity.) 

A  bride  is  brought  to  the  mikveh  a  day  or  two  before  her  wed- 
ding. There  are  some  slight  variations  in  custom,  but  the  basic 
procedures  are  the  same.  Sephardim  make  a  real  celebration  of  the 
event,  their  equivalent  to  the  bride's  shower.  Among  Ashkenazim, 
it's  pretty  quiet,  strictly  a  mother-daughter  affair. 

Most  of  the  mikvehs  today  are  quite  pleasant  places,  especially 
the  newer  ones,  built  with  the  modern  woman's  tastes  in  mind.  All 
mikvehs  have  hair  dryers.  Some  even  have  beauticians  and  cosme- 
ticians  in  attendance  several  evenings  a  week.  The  next  stage  will 
probably  be  whirlpools,  saunas,  and  exercycles.  And  why  not?  It 
loosely  fits  the  concept  of  hiddur  mitzvah,  the  beautification  of  a 
mitzvah.  No  more  the  image  of  the  mikveh  for  middle-aged 
rebbetzins  only.  I  have  seen  women  leaving  the  mikveh  looking  as 
if  they  had  just  stepped  out  of  the  pages  of  Vogue,  Rabbi  Akiba — 
who  believed  that  women  should  use  cosmetics  and  make  them- 
selves  attractive  (even  during  their  menstrual  period),  so  that  they 
not  become  repulsive  to  their  husbands— would  have  been  proud! 


ON     WOMEN     AND    JUDAISM 


112 


The  Historical  Development  of  the  Laws  of  Niddah 

The  laws  of  niddah  provide  us  not  only  with  an  elaborate  "how- 
to    but  also  with  a  fascinating  lesson  of  the  way  in  which  Halakhah 

T.T^  ,'  ^^^  P'^"P''  ""  ^'  ^"'^^  f«-««"  the  Bible,  through 
the  Mishnah,  the  Tosephta,  the  two  Talmuds,  and  medieval  and 
modern  rabbinic  literature. 

The  biblical  commandment  of  Separation  during  menses  occurs 
in  two  different  contexts:  laws  dealing  with  other  forms  of  defile- 
ment,  impurity,  and  death;  and  laws  regulating  forbidden  sexual 
relations.  Thus,  at  the  outset,  we  encounter  the  two  themes  that 
are  associated  with  niddah-themes  that  are  reflected  in  Halakhah 
throughout  history-sometimes  intertwined,  sometimes  overshad- 
owed,  sometimes  parallel. 

As  for  the  defilements  and  impurities  mentioned  in  the  Bible 
these  generally  are  related  to  death:  contact  with  a  dead  body,  losJ 
of  menstrual  blood,  loss  of  semen  through  nocturnal  emission,  or 
ieprosy  (all  symbolic  of  the  rampant  forces  of  death  taking  over 
as    the  hfe-giving   Juices   that  nurture   body   tissue   mysteriously 
cease)    Purification  through  the  living  waters,  then,  symbolizes  a 
renewal,  a  re-creation,  a  regeneration  of  the  life  forces.^  As  such 
punfication  was  considered  a  privilege,  not  a  bürden.  To  concretize' 
h,s,  there  was  a  tangible  communal  reward:  access  to  the  sanc- 
tuary  (and,  later,  the  Temple),  where  one  could  bring  a  sacrifice 
and  hnd  oneself  in  the  presence  of  God,  who  gives  life.  One  who 
did  not  undergo  a  purification  rite  could  not  reenter  the  sanctuary 
The  second  association  is  that  of  family  purity.  (In  fact,  the  laws 
ot  niddah  are  known  as  taharat  ha^mishpahaK  the  laws  of  family 
purity.)  The  ancient,  eternal  truth  is  that  society  will  destroy  itself 
if  it  lacks  ethical  sexual  relationships.  Although  no  explicit  reason 
IS  given  for  forbidding  relations  during  menses,  clearly  this  falls 
into  the  category  of  curbing  liaisons  that  are  most  open  to  exploita- 
tion  or  that  are  most  typical  of  animal  rather  than  human  behavior- 
mcest,  sex  with  individuals  who  live  under  the  same  roof  but  who 
are  not  each  other's  partners,  sex  with  animals.  For  these  forbidden 
liaisons,  a  punishment  of  karet  was  meted-a  cutting  off  of  the 
soul  of  the  transgressor  from  the  Community. 

After  the  destruction  of  the  Second  Temple,  the  categories  of 


I?:  DcjTcni^  cf  ihi  *^D-;4<?:tcTs  cf  Ur^cV      I      113 


taharah  and  tum'ah  (pure  and  impure)  become  almost  irrelevant  to 
daily  life.  In  Eretz  Israel,  certain  practices  were  to  be  maintained 
because  of  the  holiness  of  the  land,  but  gradually  even  these  died 
out.  This  does  not  mean  that  the  rabbis  of  the  Talmud  ceased  dis- 
cussing  these  concepts  and  their  practical  implications;  it  does  sig- 
nify,  however,  that  all  other  forms  of  taharah  and  tum  ah  were 
essentially  inoperative:  vessels,  tents,  hands,  liquids,  etc.  Thus,  be- 
cause there  was  no  longer  a  Temple  where  purity  had  to  be  pre- 
served,  a  person  who  came  into  contact  with  a  dead  body  no  longer 
had  to  undergo  ritual  immersion.  The  only  vestige  of  this  practice 
remaining  today  is  the  washing  of  hands  after  leaving  a  funeral 
parlor  or  cemetery.  More  germane  to  our  concern,  a  man  who  had 
a  bodily  discharge  no  longer  had  to  abstain  from  sex  until  he 
underwent  purification.  The  only  person  still  subject  to  purification 
rites  is  the  menstruous  woman. 

Following  the  destruction  of  the  Temple,  the  emphasis  shifted 
from  tum'at  niddah  (Separation  for  reasons  of  defilement,  impurity, 
Pollution,  and  taboo)  to  issur  niddah  (proscription  of  a  sexual  rela- 
tionship  because  it  is  forbidden  by  Jewish  law).  Still,  the  whole 
area  of  niddah  never  completely  lost  its  association  with  impurity 
and  defilement.'^  Indeed,  the  rabbis  strengthened  the  "fence" 
around  the  original  prohibition.  Sometimes  they  built  on  one  base, 
sometimes  on  the  other,  of  ten  connecting  the  two. 

The  talmudic  discussion  in  Shabbat  13a  is  a  perfect  example.  The 
pericope  opens  with  an  invitation  to  "come  and  see  how  purity 
has  increased  in  Israel"  (in  rabbinic  times).  The  scholars  ask:  may 
a  niddah  sleep  in  bed  with  her  husband,  each  fully  clothed,  thus 
avoiding  bodily  contact?  Shammai  answers  in  the  affirmative — they 
may  sleep  together  fully  clothed,  for  sleeping  together  (during  the 
"white"  days)  is  not  prohibited,  only  intercourse.  Hillel  disagrees 
— and  the  law  is  according  to  Hillel. 

In  this  discussion,  several  analogies  are  drawn  as  proofs:  some 
evoke  defilement,  others  the  restrictions  on  proper  sex  relations. 
One  is  treated  in  this  passage  to  a  taste  of  Halakhah  in  process. 
The  discussion  takes  place  after  the  minimum  day  count  was  in- 
creased from  seven  days  (biblical)  to  twelve  (five  menses  plus 
seven  "whites");  initially,  only  intercourse  was  forbidden  during 
the  seven  "whites,"  but  at  some  point  in  the  rabbinic  period,  prob- 


ON     WOMEN    AND     JUDAISM 


114 


ably  around  the  time  of  Hillel  and  Shammai  (first  Century  b.c.e.), 
the  biblical  taboo  against  any  and  all  forms  of  bodily  contact  during 
menses  was  carried  over  to  the  seven  "whites"  as  well.  The  elusive 
biblical  concept,  that  impurity  could  be  transmitted  by  contact  by 
touching,  was  dropped  from  every  other  category,  yet  increased  in 
the  case  of  niddah. 

Similarly,  the  biblical  punishment  for  infraction  of  niddah  was 
intensified,  and  karet  was  extended  to  include  the  seven  "whites." 
As  we  read  in  Shabbat  13a-b: 

• 

[It  is  taught  in  the]  Tanna  de-be  Eliyahu:  It  once  happened  that  a 
certain  scholar  who  had  studied  Bible  and  Mishnah  and  had  un- 
stintingly  served  scholars,  died  at  middle  age.  His  wife  took  his 
tefillin  and  carried  them  aboiit  in  the  synagogue  and  school  houses 
and  complained  to  them  [the  scholars] :  "It  is  written  in  the  Torah, 
Tor  that  is  thy  life  and  the  length  of  thy  days'  (Deut.  30:20).  My 
husband,  who  read  much  Bible  and  studied  much  Mishnah  and  served 
scholars  a  great  deal,  why  did  he  die  at  middle  age?"  No  man  could 
answer.  On  one  occasion  I  [Eliyahu,  the  supposed  author  of  the 
Tanna]  was  a  guest  at  her  house,  and  she  related  the  whole  story  to  me. 
I  Said  to  her:  "My  daughter,  how  was  he  to  you  in  the  days  of  your 
menstruation?"  "God  forbid/'  she  replied,  "he  did  not  even  touch  me 
with  his  little  finger."  "And  how  was  he  in  the  days  of  your  'whites'?" 
"He  ate  with  me,  drank  with  me,  and  slept  with  me  in  bodily  contact, 
and  it  did  not  occur  to  him  to  do  otherwise."  I  said  to  her:  "Blessed 
be  the  Omnipresent  for  slaying  him,  for  He  did  not  condone  this  be- 
havior.  Therefore,  even  though  the  man  had  much  merit  on  account 
of  his  love  for  the  Torah,  God  punished  him,  for  lo,  the  Torah  has 
said,  'And  you  shall  not  approach  a  woman  as  long  as  she  is  impure 
by  her  menses'  (Lev.  18:19)." 

The  Mishnah  refers  to  an  Institution  that  undoubtedly  grew  out 
of  the  defilement  concept.  Bat  ha-tum'ot  (special  houses  of  un- 
cleanness)  were  set  aside  so  that  women  could  be  segregated  during 
menses. ^^  This  Isolation  was  not  practiced  in  Babylonia  during  the 
mishnaic  period,  however.*^  As  is  written  in  Ketubbot  61a: 

Rabbi  Isaac  ben  Hanania  further  stated  in  the  name  of  Rav  Huna: 
All  kinds  of  werk  which  a  wife  may  perform  for  her  husband,  a 
menstruous  woman  may  also  perform,  except  for  filling  his  cup,  pre- 
paring  his  bed,  washing  his  face,  hands,  and  feet.  Said  Rabba:  The 
Prohibition  for  preparing  his  bed  applied  only  in  his  presence.  If  done 


In  Defense  of  the  "Daughters  of  Israel' 


115 


in  his  absence,  it  doesn't  matter.  With  regard  to  filling  his  cup, 
Samuel's  wife  made  a  change  [during  her  "whites"];  she  served  him 
with  her  left  hand. 

In  other  words,  actions  that  were  circumscribed  biblically  for  rea- 
sons  of  defilement,  such  as  touching  the  husband's  bed,  were  now, 
in  third-century  Babylon,  circumscribed  for  reasons  of  sexual 
arousal. 

Variations  showed  up  in  attitudes  as  well  as  practice.  The  author 
of  the  following  talmudic  Statement  sounds  a  negative  note:  "If  a 
menstruous  woman  passes  between  two  [men]  during  the  beginning 
of  her  menses,  she  will  slay  one  of  them;  and  if  she  is  at  the  end  of 
her  menses,  she  will  cause  strife  between  them"  (Pesahim  lila). 
Another  talmudic  passage  (Niddah  31b)  Stresses  the  romantic  ele- 
ment:  a  niddah  is  off  limits  so  that  she  will  be  more  desirable 
afterward. 

And  so  it  goes.  The  medieval  literature  largely  emphasizes  the 
poIlution  theme.  The  Zohar,  with  its  almost  palpable  sense  of  purity 
and  impurity  in  the  world,  is  most  explicit: 

One  who  cohabits  with  a  niddah  drives  the  divine  presence  from  the 
World.  There  is  no  stronger  impurity  in  the  world  than  that  of  niddah. 
Wherever  they  go,  the  divine  presence  is  driven  from  before  them. 
Furthermore,  such  a  person  brings  evil  sickness  upon  himself  and 
upon  the  child  born  [from  such  a  union].  .  .  .  When  a  person  draws 
near  to  a  niddah,  her  impurity  passes  to  him  and  resides  in  all  of  his 
limbs  ...  for  it  is  written:  "and  her  impurity  will  be  upon  him"  (Lev. 
15:24).  The  seed  which  he  brings  forth  at  that  time  is  imbued  with  the 
spirit  of  impurity  and  remains  in  a  State  of  impurity  throughout  its 
existence,  for  its  very  creation  and  foundation  stem  from  profound 
impurity,  which  is  the  strongest  of  all  impurities.  (Parshat  Shmot) 

We  find  a  similar  view  in  Nahmanides: 

The  glance  of  a  menstruous  woman  poisons  the  air.  .  .  .  She  is  like 
a  viper  who  kills  with  her  glance.  How  much  more  härm  will  she 
bring  to  a  man  who  sleeps  with  her?  She  is  a  pariah;  men  and  women 
will  distance  themselves  from  her  and  she  will  sit  alone  and  speak  to 
no  one.  .  .  .  The  dust  on  which  she  walks  is  impure  like  the  dust 
defiled  by  the  bones  of  the  dead.  And  the  rabbis  said:  "Even  her 
glance  brings  härm."  {Commentary  on  the  Torah,  Lev.  12:14) 


O.V     W01.1I»«     ASDJI'DAISU        l        116 


Maimonides,  however,  for  all  that  he  believed  that  women  be 
kept  under  wraps,  was  of  a  different  mind  regarding  isolation.  The 
Babylonian  tradition  of  setting  women  aside  to  prevent  them  from 
their  normal  Household  duties,  was,  in  his  eyes,  inauthentic  to  rab- 
binic  tradition;  it  smacked  of  sectarian  extremism,  perhaps  even  the 
most  dreaded  sectarianism  of  all,  Karaism.  Thus  Maimonides  per- 
mitted  women  to  touch  a  garment,  cook  foods,  and  generally  serve 
their  husbands  at  all  times  (Mishneh  Torah,  Hilkhot  Issurei  Biah 
11:6,7,15). 

In  medieval  Spain,  where  Christianity  stressed  the  sinfulness  of 
sex  and  Islam  played  up  the  taboo,  there  arose  some  additional 
prohibitions  in  Jewish  law.  One  in  particular,  the  interdiction 
against  a  niddah  entering  a  synagogue,  was  widely  observed. 

With  the  beginning  of  the  modern  period  comes  a  new  phe- 
nomenon,  an  attempt  to  provide  a  rationale  for  niddah  in  terms 
that  would  be  more  appealing  to  the  enlightened  mind.  Thus,  as 
Samson  Raphael  Hirsch  writes,  "in  the  proper  marital  relationship, 
husband  and  wife  must  live  periodically  as  sister  and  brother.  This 
tends  to  establish  rather  than  curtail  intimate  family  relationships, 
both  morally  and  spiritually.  And  just  as  one  gains  entry  to  the 
holy  sanctuary  after  purification,  so  one  is  able  to  resume  sexual  ' 
relations,  which  are  also  of  a  consecrated  nature."^^ 

In  the  contemporary  literature  on  niddah,  we  see  the  dual  influ- 
ence.  Some  authorities  stress  impurity,  defilement,  punishment, 
danger,  and  various  minute  details,  the  neglect  of  which  entails 
absolute  infraction  of  the  law;  others  emphasize  married  love, 
mutual  respect,  the  holiness  of  sex,  and  the  temptations  that  are 
involved  when  two  people  live  in  such  close  proximity.'* 

Often  in  contemporary  literature  these  themes  are  meshed.  Thus 
today,  for  example,  strict  observance  of  niddah  means  that  there 
be  absolutely  no  physical  contact  between  husband  and  wife,  that 
their  beds  be  separated,  that  they  do  not  hand  any  object  to  each 
other  directly.  One  prominent  halakhic  authority  states  that  even 
a  baby  is  not  to  be  handed  directly  (from  husband  to  wife)  during 
niddah,  unless  there  is  no  other  way.  While  it  is  possible  to  explain 
laws  of  this  sort  as  safeguards  against  sexual  arousal,  they  seem  to 
be  more  evocative  of  biblical  concepts  of  impurity,  where,  for  ex- 
ample, a  man  who  touches  the  chair  or  bed  or  clothing  of  one  who 


In  Defense  0/  the  "Daughters  of  IsTueV*      \      117 

is  tamei  (unclean)  becomes  unclean  himself.  Yet,  there  is  also  the 
other  genre  of  prohibitions:  a  man  should  not  gaze  excessively 
upon  his  wife;  a  woman  should  not  sing  in  the  presence  of  her 
husband.  In  other  words,  everything  must  be  done  to  bank  all  the 
Potential  fires  of  passion. 


One  Woman  s  Contemporary  View 

Relatively  few  Jews  observe  the  laws  of  niddah  today,  not  the  great 
mass  of  assimilated  Jews  who  ignore  mitzvot  in  general,  nor  Re- 
form Jews  who  view  niddah  as  a  relic  of  rabbinic  Judaism,  nor  Con- 
servative  Jews  who  default  by  silence,  nor,  for  that  matter,  many 
Jews  who  consider  themselves  Orthodox.  And  yet,  the  laws  of 
niddah  and  mikveh  are  considered  gufei  ha-torah,  the  essential 
laws  of  the  Torah.  Mikveh,  for  instance,  takes  precedence  in  com- 
munal  efforts  over  building  a  synagogue  or  buying  a  Torah  scroU. 
Moreover,  observance  of  niddah  is  one  of  the  three  primary  mitzvot 
of  women,  the  other  two  being  nerot  (the  kindling  of  candles)  and 
hallah  (taking  off  a  portion  of  the  bread  dough  and  consecrating  it) 
(Berakhot  20b).  Why  then  has  niddah  fallen  by  and  large  into 
desuetude? 

One  explanation  is  that  niddah  is  simply  very  difficult  to  keep. 
Of  all  the  core  mitzvot,  it  certainly  makes  the  most  rigorous  de- 
mands.  Sex  is  as  powerful  a  drive  as  hunger,  yet  we  have  only 
five  fast  days  a  year  compared  with  approximately  one  hundred 
fifty  days  of  niddah.  One  not  trained  to  observe  the  law  would 
hardly  consider  it. 

Some  would  say  that  niddah  and  mikveh  have  fallen  afoul  of 
brass  plumbing,  the  arch  symbol  of  modern  civilization.  Too  many 
people  confuse  the  laws  of  niddah  with  hygiene.  Indeed,  how 
often  have  I  heard  people  say,  'T  can  just  as  easily  stay  home  and 
take  a  bath."  This  kind  of  thinking  is  due  in  part  to  an  inadequate 
education  on  the  subject,  including  the  simple  fact  that  one  is  re- 
quired  to  take  a  bath  before  going  to  the  mikveh.  It  is  also  prob- 
ably  due  to  the  use  of  words  like  "clean"  and  "unclean,''  vy/hich 
might  not  have  crept  into  Jewish  tradition  had  women  been  part 
of  the  process  of  the  rabbinic  unfolding  of  the  law  during  the  last 


^     .  ^  ^  ^  .  j; 


In  Defense  of  the  ''Daughters  of  Israel" 


119 


two  thousand  years.  The  Torah  deals  with  concepts  of  spirilual 
purity  and  impurity  that  were  amorphous  and  perhaps  logically 
incomprehensible,  even  in  Temple  times.  But  once  the  Temple  was 
destroyed  and  there  was  no  longer  a  Single  physical  locus  of  ulti- 
mate  purity,  the  human  mind  transmuted  these  concepts  into 
terms  with  which  it  could  deal.  Somehow,  relative  cleanliness  be- 
came  the  code  association. 

A  further  fact  that  contributed  to  the  growing  disregard  of 
niddah  is  that  all  throughout  the  medieval  period  the  notion  of 
taboo  overpowered  the  dement  of  kedushah,  the  holiness  of  the 
physical  relationship.  Of  course,  taboo  and  holiness  are  tied  to- 
gether  intimately — that  is,  the  setting  up  of  limits  so  that  what 
happens  within  them  becomes  very  special.  The  preponderant 
focus,  however,  on  what  not  to  do  during  the  niddah  period — 
combined  with  little  discussion  or  appreciation  of  what  takes  place 
during  the  time  when  sex  is  permissible — left  the  whole  area  quite 
vulnerable.  Instead  of  giving  post-niddah  sex  the  green  light,  in 
the  form  of  positive  articulation,  the  laws,  as  they  developed,  con- 
tinued  to  give  sex  the  red  light.  This  is  seen  most  clearly  in  the 
Shulhan  Arukh,  which  prescribes  sex  to  be  kept  at  a  minimum.  A 
certain  prudishness  was  generated  here,  not  to  be  confused  with 
modesty.  It  is  interesting  to  note  that  onah  (the  Obligation  of  a 
husband  to  satisfy  his  wife  sexually),  an  equally  important  concept 
in  the  Torah,  has  found  httle  stress  in  Jewish  tradition.  Thus,  as 
modern  men  and  women  became  increasingly  disenchanted  with 
taboos,  niddah  suffered  accordingly.  This  falloff  is  unfortunate,  for 
niddah  and  mikveh  have  great  meaning  today,  in  a  woman's  life 
and  in  the  shared  life  of  a  man  and  woman  who  love  each  other. 

Why  do  I  observe  niddah  and  mikveh?  Because  I  am  so  com- 
manded,  because  it  is  a  mitzvah  ordained  by  the  Torah.  Were  I  not 
so  commanded  by  Jewish  law,  I  surely  would  not  have  invented 
such  a  rigorous  routine.  The  flesh  is  weak  and  no  lofty  scheme 
imaginable  could  have  made  me  tough  enough  to  observe  niddah. 
All  of  this  is  true  for  my  husband  as  well,  for  neither  of  us  could 
adhere  to  the  practice  unilaterally.  Without  a  mutual  understanding 
and  acceptance  of  Halakhah,  observance  of  niddah  in  marriage 
would  be  reduced  to  a  test  of  wills  each  month. 

Precisely  because  it  is  a  mitzvah,  it  holds  a  certain  sense  of 


r 


sweetness  for  me.  As  I  go  about  my  business  at  the  mikveh,  I  often 
savor  the  knowledge  that  I  am  doing  exactly  as  Jewish  women  have 
done  for  twenty  or  thirty  centuries.  It  is  a  matter  not  only  of  keep- 
ing  the  chain  going,  but  also  one  of  self-definition:  this  is  how  my 
fcr^eirs  dei^jcd  thczrisclves  as  JewLih  women  and  as  part  ob  the 
commurjry  and  iViis  is  hov»  1  denne  xTiVS-clf .  It  is  the  ser»s-e  et  Com- 
munity with  them  that  pleases  me.  There  is  yet  another  aspect  to 
observing  a  mitzvah  for  its  own  sake.  The  laws  of  niddah  contin- 
ually  remind  me  that  I  am  a  Jew  and  niddah  reinforces  that  deep 
inner  contentment  with  a  Jewish  way  of  life. 

Acceptance  of  the  mitzvah,  then,  is  the  base;  attendant  sensations 
of  "Community,"  "Jewish  womanhood,"  and  "chain  of  tradition" 
are  the  embellishments.  There  is  more  to  it  than  that,  however. 
Niddah  serves  a  whole  ränge  of  functions  in  an  interpersonal  rela- 
tionship, appropriate  to  its  ebb  and  flow  and  to  its  different  stages 

of  growth. 

In  the  early  married  stage,  when  passion  and  romance  dominate, 
niddah  allows,  nay  encourages,  a  man  and  woman  to  develop  other 
techniques  of  communication.  In  the  second  stage,  that  of  young 
children,  tired  mothers,  and  hardworking  fathers,  niddah  is  an 
arbitrarily  imposed  refresher  period.  Inasmuch  as  it  regulates  the 
off  times,  it  synchronizes  the  on  times.  No  law  can  program  desire, 
but  there  is  probably  a  better  chance  of  the  meshing  of  expecta- 
tions  among  couples  who  observe  niddah.  In  the  third  stage,  as  a 
woman  approaches  menopause,  niddah  and  mikveh  bring  her  to  a 
monthly  appreciation  of  her  continuing  ability  to  be  fertile.  One 
may  wonder  whether  a  woman  who  has  faithfuUy  observed  mikveh 
all  her  life  feels  a  heightened  sense  of  loss  at  menopause. 

Finally,  in  all  of  these  stages,  niddah  generates  a  different  sense 
of  seif  for  a  woman,  a  feeling  of  self-autonomy.  Some  women  can 
generate  these  feelings  out  of  their  own  ego  strength;  for  those  to 
whom  it  is  not  innate  or  instinctive,  niddah  is  a  catalyst  to  this 

consciousness. 

Some  feminists  have  challenged  the  very  concept  of  mikveh. 
Yet  mikveh  well  could  be  the  prototype  of  a  woman's  mitzvah.  It 
is  unique  to  woman;  it  makes  a  Statement  about  woman  as  Jew;  it 
builds  human  character.  Thus  we  need  not  rationalize  what  has 
been  wrong  with  mikveh  but  rather  affirm  what  has  been  right  and 


ON     WOMEN    AND    JUDAISM 


120 


what  is  doable.  Not  everything  concerning  women  that  has  with- 
stood  the  test  of  time  is  good;  not  everything  from  biblical  tradition 
has  withstood  the  test  of  time.  But  in  the  cosmic  order  of  things, 
mikveh  seems  to  be  an  attempt  to  attach  some  measure  of  holinesJ 
to  a  primal  urge.  As  it  was  passed  on  through  countless  genera- 
tions,  mikveh  could  not  help  take  on  certain  nuances,  some  of 
them  less  honorable  toward  women.  It  falls  to  this  generation  of 
women,  Jewish  women  with  a  new  sense  of  seif,  to  restore  that 
Clement  of  holiness  to  our  bodies,  our  selves. 


Some  Modest  Proposais 

There  are  several  things  regarding  niddah  and  mikveh  the  com- 
munity  can  do  in  the  way  of  education  and  even  refinement. 

1.  Niddah  and  mikveh  should  be  reappropriated  in  the  context  of 
a  woman's  mitzvah.  Uniquely,  it  is  a  mitzvah  in  which  women  per- 
form  the  act,  with  men  serving  as  enablers.  Now  that  women  are 
calling  for  greater  inclusion  in  tradition,  the  first  step  should  be  to 
reeducate  the  Community  on  women's  mitzvot  that  already  exist. 

2.  There  should  be  a  Clearing  up  of  some  of  the  negative  lan- 
guage  associated  with  niddah  and  mikveh— "unclean''  for  example 
—and  of  some  of  the  horrendous  threats  that  have  been  bruited 
about  (children  conceived  during  a  niddah's   intercourse  will   be 
born  blind,  leprous,  armless,  etc.).  That  doesn't  impress  people 
who  prefer  to  take  on  new  obligations  out  of  love,  not  terror. 
While  much  of  the  contemporary,  English-language  literature  does 
stress  kedushah,  the  holiness  of  marriage  and  family  purity,  the 
new  literature  should  emphasize  the  holiness  of  sex  itself.  Indeed, 
the  parallel  ought  to  be  drawn:  a  man  who  goes  to  the  mikveh 
before  Yom  Kippur  purifies  himself  not  from  a  State  of  defilement 
but  rather  in  order  to  be  more  holy  for  what  he  does  next  (that  is, 
entering  holy  time).  Similarly,  menstrual  blood  is  not  defilement; 
rather,  after  a  period  of  Separation  a  woman  purifies  herseif  to  be 
more  holy  for  what  follows,  sexual  relations. 

3.  Perhaps  some  of  the  women's  contemporary  needs  can  be 
grafted  onto  niddah.  For  example,  doctors  advise  women  to  check 


In  Defense  of  the  ''Daughters  of  Israel" 


121 


their  breasts  every  month  for  Cancer,  but  most  women  neglect  these 
self-examinations.  If  this  were  somehow  tied  halakhically  to 
niddah,  women  would  do  so  routinely.  Similarly,  an  annual  Pap 
smear  or  gynecological  examination  that  would  be  tied  ritually  to, 
say,  the  first  niddah  cycle  after  Rosh  Hashanah  may  add  new  mean- 
ing  to  the  mitzvah;  more  than  that,  it  may  save  thousands  of 
women's  lives  each  year. 

4.  At  certain  stages  of  life,  and  for  certain  people,  abstention 
from  sex  for  almost  half  a  month  is  too  difficult  to  sustain.  Per- 
haps there  ought  to  be  a  halakhic  reconsideration  of  the  biblical 
time  span.  At  this  time  of  retum  to  ritual  and  tradition,  many  more 
Jewish  couples  seriously  may  consider  the  observance  of  niddah 
were  it  limited  to  the  seven-day  period  prescribed  by  biblical  law. 

5.  Particularly  where  brides  are  concerned,  and  on  the  assump- 
tion  that  we  still  place  a  value  on  virginity  before  marriage,  the 
distinction  between  menstrual  blood  and  blood  of  the  hymen  ought 
to  be  made.  Starting  off  with  eleven  days  of  abstinence  is  a  poor 
way  to  engender  healthy  attitudes  about  the  joys  of  sex  in  marriage. 

6.  One  of  the  interesting  things  that  turned  up  in  the  course  of 
my  research  on  modern  Orthodox  women  is  the  diversity  in  observ- 
ance of  the  associated  laws  of  negi'ah,  the  interdiction  against  all 
physical  contact.  Many  couples  seem  to  have  drawn  the  line  differ- 
ently,  and  the  ränge  was  enormous.  As  one  who  respects  the  mitz- 
vah of  niddah — but  also  as  a  Student  of  history  who  understands 
that  after  the  destruction  of  the  Temple  the  emphasis  quite  natu- 
rally  shifted  from  tum'at  niddah  (Separation  for  reasons  of  ritual 
impurity)  to  issur  niddah  (proscription  of  sexual  relations) — I  find 
the  emphasis  on  negi'ah  excessive  and  onerous.  Today  we  have 
somewhat  healthier  attitudes  about  physical  affection.  The  Halakhah 
should  reflect  a  confidence  in  its  faithful.  One  who  observes  the 
mitzvah  of  niddah  will  not  jump  into  bed  the  moment  the  flesh  of 
a  loved  one  is  pressed. 


Like  many  hukkim  from  the  Torah  (rituals  and  rules  for  which 
we  are  given  no  ethical  or  logical  reason),  niddah  has  come  down  to 
US  through  three  thousand  years  of  Jewish  living.  It  has  been 
tempered  and   shaped  by  successive  generations,  yet  it  remains 


ON    WOMEN    AND     JUDAISM        [        122 


relatively  intact,  faithful  to  its  original,  divine,  biblical  form.  And 
although  we  cannot  understand  it  by  means  of  logic,  it  obviously 
*serves  a  deep  human  need. 

All  things  considered,  the  laws  of  niddah  have  added  a  dimen- 
sion  to  our  marriage,  have  made  it  richer,  more  special.  Since  it  is 
these  small  margins  that  make  the  difference  in  life,  I  consider  the 
effort  worthwhile.  All  in  all,  I  like  being  a  proper  "daughter  of 
Israel." 


NOTES 

1.  "Uncleanness"  is  a  dreadfui  word,  a  poor  translation  and  even  poorer 
connotation  of  the  Hebrew  tarnet.  I  could  not  find  a  Single  English  Bible  that 
used  a  different  word,  however.  Tamei  is  more  accurately  understood  as  "im- 
pure"— the  reverse  condition  of  tahor  ("pure");  both  words  take  on  an  en- 
tirely  different  meaning  when  considered  in  light  of  Temple  access  or  wor- 
ship,  to  which  they  are  related.  Part  of  the  problem  in  this  pericope  is  that 
the  Word  niddatah  (her  State  of  being  niddah)  is  transiated  as  "her  impurity/' 
so  another  word  had  to  be  used  for  tum'ah.  More  properly,  niddatah  should- 
have  been  transiated  as  "in  the  time  of  her  flow  (menses)"  or  "in  the  lime 
of  her  Separation  (distancing)."  Even  where  the  concept  of  Separation  is  used, 
some  translators  use  the  word  "banishment/'  based  on  Rashi's  commentary  of 
Lev.  15:19.  See  Even  Shoshan  and  Jastrow  dictionaries,  s.v.  niddah. 

2.  This  verse  seems  to  be  the  bridge  phrase,  interweaving  the  two  themes, 
impurity  and  forbidden  sexual  relationships. 

3.  This  is  derived  from  the  laws  of  a  zavah  (one  who  has  a  discharge), 
who  must  wait  seven  additional  days  afler  the  discharge  stops  (Niddah  66a 
on  Lev.  15:23). 

4.  There  is  a  special  dispensation  for  newlyweds:  eleven  days  instead  of 
twelve.  The  reason  for  this  is  that  the  loss  of  blood  is  probably  from  the 
breaking  of  the  hymen  and  not  from  the  womb.  Since  one  could  not  know 
for  sure,  the  rabbis  set  aside  four  days  plus  seven  "whites."  More  logically, 
if  it  could  be  determined  within  four  days  that  it  is  extrauterine  blood  (i.e., 
from  the  hymen),  then  why  the  seven  "whites"  altogether?  We  know  from 
other  cases  that  it  is  only  menstrual  blood  that  made  one  a  niddah;  after  a 
Caesarian  birth  there  was  no  period  of  Separation. 

5.  This  is  determined  by  a  series  of  self-examinations.  Staining  is  con- 
sidered part  of  the  flow  period.  In  fact,  there  are  more  laws  on  staining  than 
on  any  other  aspect  of  niddah.  Since  the  laws  were  so  intricate,  there  were, 
by  acclaim,  certain  rabbis  in  each  generation  who  were  specialists  in  the 
laws  of  niddah.  Questions  would  be  sent  to  them  from  great  distances.  The 
details  were  originally  spelled  out  in  Mishnah  Niddah:  finding  color  or  size. 


•tt 


fcj£^^  ■ 


1^  tk* 


r:  is  rar:  ci  i^ä  £c*<  er  ran  cc  *e\«:i  Lr^-r-ccix^ 


v%r.ere  it  orlgir.-ites  (vagir^  or  wcnb),  the  >eli-€vinir-iticr.  prcced;ire<   >**ci* 
testimony  counts,  vshen  are  the  tests  properly  done,  etc. 

6.  Since  it  is  not  uncommon  for  a  woman  to  stain  for  several  days  after 
the  menstrual  flow,  this  puls  an  extra  bürden  on  couples  tr>'ing  to  obser\e 
the  laws  carefuUy.  For  women  who  have  long  menses  (seven  or  eight  days), 
it  means  a  period  of  at  least  two  weeks  or  more  of  abstenlion  from  sex. 

7.  Although  the  Bible  doesn't  describe  the  purification  ritual  for  niddah 
(other  than  the  passage  of  seven  days),  the  rabbis  taught  that  the  same  pro- 
cedure  used  by   men  applied   to   women:   immersion   in   living   waters    (Lev. 

15:13). 

8.  I  was  never  sure  about  the  relevance  of  that  particular  prayer.  The 
following,  however,  seems  to  suggest  itself :  niddah  and  mikveh  are  the  only 
extant  rituals  of  that  period  when  tum'ah  and  taharah  were  taken  with  ut- 
most  gravity  and  when  the  Temple  was  the  symbol  of  purity  and  closeness 
to  God.  Moreover,  on  the  day  following  the  immersion,  the  mendicant  would 
bring  two  turtledoves  to  the  sanctuary  as  sacrifice.  This  additional  prayer 
symbolizes  the  longing  for  that  time  in  our  past  or  for  messianic  redemption 

of  the  future. 

9.  See  Rachel  Adler,  "Tumah  and  Taharah— Mikveh,"  in  The  first  Jewish 
Catalog,  ed.  Richard  Siegel,  Michael  Strassfeld,  and  Sharon  Strassfeld  (Phila- 
delphia: The  Jewish  Publication  Society  of  America,  1973),  pp.  167-71. 

10.  The  clearest  indication  of  this  was  when  the  Mishnah  was  codified. 
Almost  two  hundred  years  after  the  destruction  of  the  Second  Temple,  the 
tractate  Niddah  was  classified  not  in  Order  Women  but  in  Order  Purification. 
It  is  also  the  only  one  of  the  twelve  mishnayot  in  Order  Purification  that  has 

a  gemara  explicating  it. 

11.  Rashi  and  Bartenura  explain  this  as  rooms,  not  houses  (Niddah  7:2). 

12.  Several  centuries  later,  segregation  was  indeed  practiced  in  Babylonia 
(Mishneh  Torah,  Hilkhot  Issurei  Bi'ah  11:6,  7, 15). 

13.  Cf.  Samson  Raphael  Hirsch,  The  Pentateuch  (London:  L  Levy,  1962), 

chap.  15. 

14.  Some  contemporary  works  of  one  kind  or  the  other  are  Kaiman 
Kahana,  Daughter  of  Israel:  Laws  of  Family  Purity  (New  York:  Feldheim, 
1970);  Norman  Lamm,  The  Hedge  of  Roses  (New  York:  Feldheim,  1968); 
Pinchas  Stolper,  The  Read  to  Responsible  Jewish  Adulthood  (New  York:  Union 
of  Orthodox  Jewish  Congregations  of  America,  1967);  Zev  Schostak,  The 
Purity  of  the  Family:  Its  Ideology  and  Its  Laws  (New  York:  Feldheim,  1971). 


Jewish  Attitudes  toward  Divorce 


nPRADITIONAL  Jewish  divorce  law  suggests  two  things:  how 

-■"    much  change  has  occurred  throughout  history  and  how  much 

more  change  needs  to  occur  so  that  the  law  may  serve  women  non- 

discriminately.*  The  evolutionary  process  begins  with  biblical  law: 

A  man  takes  a  wife  and  possesses  her.  She  fails  to  please  him  because 
he  finds  something  obnoxious  {ervat  davar)  about  her,  and  he  writes 
her  a  bill  of  divorcement,  hands  it  to  her,  and  sends  her  away  from 
his  house.  (Deut.  24:1) 

Both  physical  and  psychological  uprooting  were  in  störe  for  the 
woman  who  overly  displeased  her  husband.  She  had  no  power  to 
prevent  or  refuse  the  divorce,  nor  was  there  provision  for  her  to 
divorce  him  if  she  wanted  out  of  the  marriage  and  he  didn't.  Di- 
vorce was  the  absolute  right  of  the  husband,  not  an  illogical  con- 
sequence  of  a  patriarchal  society. 

The  Bible  itself,  however,  begins  the  process  of  modification  of 
these  absolute  rights.  First,  the  fact  that  the  husband  had  to  write 
a  bill  of  divorce  and  present  it  to  his  wife  served  as  protection  for 
her  (Isa.  50:1;  Jer.  3:8).  It  was  a  delaying  tactic;  he  could  not,  in 
a  fit  of  anger,  simply  pronounce  with  finality  the  formal  declara- 
tion  of  divorce.  (Irreversible  oral  divorce  was  the  alternative  in 
ancient  Eastern  cultures.)  Second,  a  man  was  required  to  pay  a 
penalty  upon  divorce.  This  is  learned  from  the  biblical  law  of 
accusation,  in  which  a  husband,  as  grounds  for  divorce,  publicly 
accuses  his  wife  of  premarital  sex  and  of  coming  to  him  without 
her  virginity  (Deut.  22:13-21).  Why  would  he  bother  to  accuse  her 


125 


ON    WOMEN    AND    JUDAISM 


126 


leioish  Attitudes  toward  Divorce 


publicly,    antagonize   her   family,   and   humiliate   himself   in    the 
process  when  he  could  have  simply  divorced  her  quietly  and  at 
will?  Because  if  the  charge  was  upheld,  he  was  released  from  pay- 
ing  the  Standard  penalty.  Third,  the  Bible  describes  two  instantes 
in  which  the  absolute  prohibition  against  divorce  applies:  if  the 
husband  falsely  accused  his  wife  of  having  had  premarital  sex;  or 
if  a  man  raped  a  woman  whom  he  was  obligated  to  marry  (provid- 
ing,  of  course,  she  would  accept  him),  he  could  not  thereafter  di- 
vorce her  (Deut.  22:28-29).  (This  "law  of  the  rapist"  may  appear 
crude  and  rather  cruel.  In  reality,  however,  it  was  designed  to  pro- 
tect  the  woman;  having  lost  her  virginity  through  no  fault  of  her 
own,  she  would  have  been  otherwise  unmarrlageable.)  Both  of  these 
restrictions  must  be  understood  in  the  broader  context— the  Com- 
munity's  Prärogative  to  set  limits  on  a  man's  absolute,  private  right 
of  divorce. 

The  biblical  law  on  divorce  comes  almost  as  an  aside,  as  a 
wrinkle  in  the  law  that  forbids  a  man  to  remarry  his  ex-wife  in 
the  event  that  she  had,  in  the  interim,  married  another  man.  This, 
too,  was  an  encroachment  on  a  man's  Virtual  control  over  divorce. 
Moreover,  the  Bible  teaches  that  there  was  an  alternative  to  di- 
vorce. Polygamy,  in  a  stränge  sort  of  way,  protected  a  woman,  for 
a  man  did  not  have  to  divorce  one  wife  in  order  to  take  another. 
Biblical  narrative  portrays  a  different  Situation  altogether.  Polyg- 
amous  marriages  were  quite  rare,  yet  divorce  was  also  very  rare. 
Women  were  not  driven  out  wholesale.  Even  in  those  isolated  in- 
stances  where  a  woman  was  sent  away,  it  was  traumatic  for  the 
husband  as  well  (Gen.  21:11-12;  1  Sam.  3:14-16).  The  social  sanc- 
tions  of  the  Community  against  divorce  must  have  been  very  strong. 
One  more  word  about  contexts.  Biblical  divorce  law  seems  to 
reflect   less  an  ancient  blas   of   the  Hebrew  religion   concerning 
women  than  it  does  the  general  Near  Eastern  male-oriented  culture 
in  which  biblical  law  was  grounded  contextually.  Parallel  ciiltures, 
such  as  the  Sumerian  and  Hittite,  have  equivalent  divorce  rites' 
The  Code  of  Hammurabi,  in  force  in  Mesopotamia  during  the  time 
of  the  Patriarchs,  records  laws  on  marriage  and  divorce  that  are 
almost  identical  to  biblical  law.* 

Nevertheless,  one  cannot  dismiss  biblical  divorce  law  simply  as 
ancient  culture-bound  mores  or  sociological  axioms  of  patriarchy. 


1 


127 


For  Jews,  biblical  law  is  revelation  and  thus  the  basis  of  all 
Halakhah  that  follows.  The  rabbis  of  the  Talmud  were  not  in- 
sensitive to  inequities  in  biblical  divorce  law.  Little  by  little,  the 
imbalance  was  tempered  by  numerous  rabbinic  measures  that,  on 
the  whole,  gave  women  greater  protection.  Still,  the  basic  principle 
of  man's  rights  was  always  there,  limiting  how  far  the  tradition 
could  go  in  creating  a  better  distribution  of  power  in  family  law. 

One  method  by  which  the  rabbis  reinforced  this  principle  of  ab- 
solute right  was  the  selective  weighting  of  scriptural  phrases.  "And 
he  writes  her  a  bill  of  divorcement,  hands  it  to  her,  and  sends  her 
away  from  his  house"  was  interpreted  as  a  sweeping  divine  prin- 
ciple of  the  male  prerogative.  The  Mishnah  teaches,  "The  man  who 
divorces  is  not  like  the  woman  who  is  divorced,  because  the  woman 
is  divorced  with  her  consent  or  against  her  will,  while  the  man 
divorces  only  with  his  own  free  will"  (Yevamot  14  ;1).  Only  a  man 
can  write  a  bill  of  divorcement  (Gittin  20a;  Bava  Batra  168a). 

On  the  other  band,  the  phrase  "hands  it  to  her"  was  not  in- 
terpreted as  divine  principle  requiring  the  wife's  acceptance  or  con- 
sent; rather,  it  was  explained  as  procedure.  Even  as  procedure, 
there  was  a  good  deal  of  leeway:  a  man  may  throw  the  get  (bill  of 
divorcement)  into  her  lap  or  workbasket  or  date  dish  or  onto  the 
parapet  where  she  might  be  standing  (Gittin  8;1,  77a-79a).  Only 
in  some  very  limited  situations  is  the  phrase  "hands  it  to  her"  used 
as  a  principle  (Yevamot  113b). 

In  an  early  rabbinic  dispute  between  the  schools  of  Hillel  and 
Shammai,  a  pattern  emerges  that  characterizes  much  of  rabbinic 
action  for  centuries  to  come.  Shammai,  the  strict  constructionist  of 
biblical  law,  maintained  that  the  scriptural  words  ervat  davar  (Deut. 
24:1-4)  literally  and  exclusively  meant  adultery.  Thus,  a  woman's 
infidelity  was  the  only  legitimate  grounds  for  divorce.  (The  Catho- 
lic  church  reinforced  this  strict  constructionist  view  and  has 
wrestled  with  a  most  untenable  position  on  divorce  ever  since.) 

Hillel,  who  generally  interpreted  the  scriptures  broadly,  under- 
stood ervat  davar  as  anything  offensive  to  the  husband,  even  bum- 
ing  his  food.  As  in  most  disputes,  rabbinic  law  followed  Hillel 
(Gittin  9:10).^ 

For  the  next  few  centuries,  major  talmudists  reiterated  the  prin- 


^ 


O  .V     t'iOUES     AS  D    j::DAl5\i 


125 


Jewish  Attitudes  toward  Divorce 


129 


•| 


ciple  of  the  unrestricted  right  of  the  husband  to  divorce.  The 
opposing  View  was  not  ignored  entirely,  however.  It  made  itself 
feit  in  two  ways:  in  the  growing  number  of  halakhic  curbs  on  a 
man's  absolute  right  and  in  the  moral  dicta  of  the  Talmud,  such  as 
"he  who  divorces  his  wife  is  hated  by  God"  (Gittin  90b). 

Thus,  throughout  much  of  rabbinic  history,  three  forces  operated 
in  tension;  the  theory  of  man's  absolute  right,  the  biblical  prece- 
dents  that  qualified  these  rights,  and  the  earliest  layer  of  rabbinic 
sources  that  interpreted  biblical  laws  broadly  or  narrowly.  These 
three  constructs  could  be  weighted  in  every  rabbinic  decision,  de- 
pending  on  one's  teacher's  views,  the  climate  of  the  times,  or  one's 
inclinations  and  the  particular  divorce  case  at  hand. 

Rabbinic  modification  took  several  forms:  increasing  the  number 
of  cases  in  which  the  absolute  prohibition  against  divorce  applies, 
embellishing  and  encumbering  the  divorce  proceedings,  expanding 
the  financial  responsibilities  of  the  husband,  and  enlarging  the 
wife's  opportunity  to  assent  or  dissent,  giving  her  some  mastery 
over  her  own  fate  as  a  married  woman. 

1.  Increasing  the  number  of  cases.  Two  new  cases  were  added 
beyond  the  two  prohibitions  of  biblical  origin:  a  man  could  not 
divorce  a  wife  who  had  become  insane  and  thus  would  have  been' 
unable  to  take  care  of  herseif  (Yevamot  14:1,  113b),  nor  could  a 
man  divorce  a  wife  who  had  been  taken  captive/  Another  kind  of 
prohibited  divorce  involved  a  child  bride,  not  uncommon  in  orien- 
tal  Jewish  communities. 

2.  Embellishing  the  proceedings.  The  complex  rules  attending 
actual  divorce  were  spelled  out  in  the  Talmud  and  were  further  re- 
fined  in  post-talmudic  rabbinic  literature.*^  These  rules  apply  today 
just  as  they  did  throughout  the  entire  medieval  world. 

A  get  must  be  handwritten  by  a  scribe  at  the  specific  Instruction 
of  the  husband.  The  language  is  Aramaic,  following  the  talmudic 
textual  form,  with  the  details  of  the  particular  case  filled  in  at  the 
appropriate  places.  The  central  part  of  the  get  is  the  husband's 
declaration:  "I  will  release  and  set  aside  you,  my  wife,  in  order 
that  you  may  have  authority  over  yourself  to  marry  any  man  you 
desire.  .  .  .  You  are  permitted  to  every  man.  .  .  .  This  shall  be  for 
you  a  bill  of  dismissal,  a  letter  of  release,  a  get  of  freedom"  (Gittin 
9:1-3;  Mishneh  Torah,  Hilkhot  Gerushin  4:12). 


Great  care  is  taken  in  the  process  of  writing  the  get.  The  scribe 
has  to  make  a  formal  gift  to  the  husband  of  all  the  writing  mate- 
rials  he  will  use.  A  get  may  be  declared  invalid  if  the  writing,  sign- 
ing,  and  delivery  are  misdated.  Two  male  witnesses  must  sign  the 
get.  The  husband  must  present  the  get  to  the  wife,  again  in  the 
presence  of  witnesses  (usually  the  same  two  men).  If  this  is  im- 
possible  or  impractical,  he  may  appoint  an  agent  of  delivery,  as 
may  the  wife  for  receipt  of  the  get;  the  laws  concerning  agency, 
however,  are  even  more  complicated. 

Upon  receipt,  the  wife  hands  the  get  over  to  the  bet  din  (rabbinic 
court),  consisting  of  three  men.  They  make  a  tear  in  the  document, 
signifying  the  tearing  asunder  of  the  relationship  as  well  as  the 
conclusion  of  the  legal  transaction  of  divorce.  The  bet  din  files  the 
get  for  safekeeping  and  gives  a  shtar  piturin  (document  of  release 
attesting  that  the  wife  has  received  a  valid  get). 

The  Standard  procedures  in  a  divorce  are  so  exact,  so  detailed, 
that  those  in  attendance  must  be  experts  at  it.  In  many  medieval 
communities,  as  in  modern  ones,  often  there  was  only  one  rabbi 
sufficiently  qualified  to  handle  gittin  (religious  divorce  proceedings). 
The  real  function  of  the  myriad  of  laws  was  to  bring  the  couple 
into  contact  with  the  bet  din,  whose  members  understood  their 
role  as  more  than  scribes  or  legal  experts.  Long  before  the  get  was 
actually  drawn,  they  would  try  to  use  their  offices  to  effect  a  re- 
conciliation.  Only  after  all  eise  failed  would  they  monitor  and 
supervise  the  final  act.  This  whole  process  ultimately  served  to 
undermine  the  notion  of  absolute  right.  In  theory,  the  husband 
still  had  a  private  and  absolute  right,  but  in  practice  as  well  as  in 
the  populär  mind  he  now  had  to  look  to  the  bet  din  for  sanction. 

3.  Expanding  the  husband's  financial  responsibilities.  The  ketu- 
bah  (marriage  contract)  states  that  the  wife  is  entitled  to  a  return 
of  her  dowry  and  any  other  properties  she  had  brought  with  her 
into  the  marriage,  plus  support  for  her  until  she  remarries.  It  thus 
discouraged  divorce  by  levying  economic  sanctions.  If  it  failed  to 
prevent  divorce,  however,  at  least  the  woman  was  provided  with 
some  measure  of  security.  The  ketubah  also  protected  her  interests 
during  marriage.  The  husband  was  obliged  to  provide  for  her  ac- 
cording  to  her  Station  in  life,  to  pay  her  medical  and  dental  bills,  to 
ransom  her  if  she  were  taken  captive,  and  to  bury  her  decently 


OS     iVOWIS'    AND    JL'DAlSU 


130 


(Ketubbot  4:4-9,  5a;  Mishneh  Torah,  Even  ha-Ezer,  Hilkhot  Ishut, 
12  ;2). 

The  Talmud  did  not  formalize  the  Standard  ketubah  text  but  did 
establish  a  basic  minimum  level  of  recompense.  Beyond  that,  it 
allowed  many  variations.  Thus,  in  medieval  times,  tailor-made 
ketubot  were  written  vvhere  a  wife  stipulated  the  conditions  under 
which  her  husband  must  grant  her  a  divorce  and  still  pay  the 
ketubah  (say,  if  he  took  a  concubine). 

4.  Wife's  opportunity  to  assent  or  dissent.  In  practice,  the  theo- 
retical  right  of  the  husband  to  put  away  his  wife  was  eroded 
continually  throughout  rabbinic  times.  Finally,  in  the  eleventh  Cen- 
tury, Rabbenu  Gershom  of  Mainz  formally  decreed,  by  means  of  a 
takkanah  (rabbinic  directive),  that  a  woman  could  not  be  divorced 
without  her  consent.  Woman's  will  now  carried  legal  force.  Al- 
though  no  one  would  call  it  by  that  name,  Rabbenu  Gershom's 
decree  formally  set  aside  the  principle  of  man's  absolute  right  of 
divorce. 

What  the  rabbis  really  were  trying  to  do  was  protect  a  woman 
from  being  divorced.  The  end  of  the  tractate  on  divorce  closes 
with  a  quote  from  the  prophet  Malachi,  which  summarizes   the 
ethical  and  moral  values  that  seem  to  have  informed  the  rabbinic, 
deliberations  throughout:  / 

If  a  man  divorces  his  first  wife,  even  the  altar  sheds  tears  .  .  .  be- 
cause  the  Lord  has  been  witness  between  you  and  the  wife  of  your 
youth,  against  whom  you  have  dealt  treacherously,  even  though  she 
has  been  your  companion  and  the  wife  of  your  covenant.  (Gittin  90b) 

What  about  the  right  of  the  wife  to  sue  for  divorce?  The  germ 
of  such  a  notion  existed  in  biblical  law,  for  if  a  man  didn't  live  up 
to  his  contractual  obligations,  his  wife  was  entitled  to  bring  suit: 

When  a  man  sells  his  daughter  as  a  slave,  .  .  .  if  she  proves  to  be 
displeasing  to  her  master,  who  designated  her  for  himself,  he  must 
let  her  be  redeemed.  .  .  .  If  he  marries  another,  he  must  not  withhold 
from  this  one  her  food,  her  clothing,  or  her  conjugal  rights.  If  he 
fails  her  in  these  three  ways,  she  shall  go  free,  without  payment. 
(Exod.  21:7-11) 

In  other  words,  this  Jewish  bondswoman  could  go  out,  free  of 


Jewish  Attitudes  toward  Divorce      1      131 


debts,  without  a  financial  settlement  but  with  a  bill  of  divorcement 
in  band  (Mekilta,  Mishpatim,  sec.  3;  Arakhin  5:6)  Yevamot  14:1; 
Gittin  9:8).  Because  bondswomen  probably  had  very  little  clout, 
tradition  assumes  that  the  bill  of  divorcement  was  mandated  by 
some  others  with  power — the  court  perhaps,  or  the  city  eiders 
(Bava  Batra  48a;  Yevamot  106a).  It  was  reasonable  to  assume 
that  if  a  mere  bondswoman  was  protected  by  contractual  rights, 
certainly  would  a  wife  be  who  entered  the  marriage  as  a  free 
woman. 

In  rabbinic  times  the  contractual  obligations  of  the  husband  were 
expanded  and  elaborated.  Many  of  the  grounds  that  entitled  the 
wife  to  divorce  reflected  great  sensitivity  to  women's  needs.  Sexual 
satisfaction,  a  condition  legislated  in  the  Bible,  was  given  real 
definition  by  the  rabbis.  They  even  legislated  the  minimum  number 
of  times  for  intercourse,  which  varied  according  to  the  husband's 
occupation:  a  sailor  had  to  come  ashore  at  least  once  every  six 
months,  a  Scholar  had  to  satisfy  his  wife  at  least  once  a  week.  If 
a  husband  refused  to  meet  his  wife's  conjugal  rights,  she  could 
exercise  her  Option  for  divorce  through  the  bet  din.  If  she  chose 
not  to  exercise  this  right,  her  husband  could  be  fined,  week  by 
week  (Ketubbot  6lb-62b). 

Impotence  also  was  legitimate  grounds  for  divorce,  deriving 
from  an  older  rabbinic  law  that  actually  permitted  a  woman  to 
make  such  a  charge  without  bringing  proof.  A  late  mishnaic  law 
permitted  the  husband  to  contest  the  accusation  but  left  the  bürden 
of  proof  upon  him  (Yevamot  65a-b). 

If  a  wife  vowed  not  to  have  intercourse  with  her  husband  and 
he  did  not  take  pains  to  annul  such  a  vow,  she  was  entitled  to  sue 
for  divorce  (Ketubbot  5:8-9).  If  she  wanted  to  live  in  the  Holy 
Land  or  move  from  one  Palestinian  city  to  Jerusalem  and  he  re- 
fused to  follow  her  or  to  remain  there  with  her  (Ketubbot  llOb); 
if  he  had  a  serious  disease  or  a  continual  bad  odor  from  his  occupa- 
tion, like  carrying  düng  or  tanning  hides  (Ketubbot  7:9);  if  he  did 
not  Support  her  in  the  style  to  which  she  had  been  accustomed  or, 
if  he  was  wealthy,  in  the  style  proper  for  one  of  his  means  (Ketub- 
bot 5:8-9);  or  if  he  failed  to  live  up  to  anything  in  the  ketubah, 
the  wife  was  entitled  to  sue  for  divorce.  The  medieval  rabbis  added 
two  more  grounds  for  divorce:  if  he  beat  her  or  if  he  visited  prosti- 


ON     WOMEN     AND     JUDAISM 


132 


tutes  (Shulhan  Arukh,  Even  ha-Ezer,  Hilkhot  Gittin  154:3,  com- 
mentaryof  Rama).° 

Contractual  rights  worked  as  follows:  if  a  husband  did  not  meet 
his  responsibilities  to  his  wife  she  could  go  to  the  bet  din,  present 
her  case,  and  obtain  a  subpoena  compelling  him  to  appear  to  answer 
the  charges.  The  court  would  first  press  him  to  fulfill  his  obliga- 
tions.  If  he  failed  to  do  so,  the  court  could  coerce  him  into  granting 
the  divorce  by  levying  economic  and  social  sanctions  against  him. 
The  law  maintained,  however,  that  he  was  taking  this  action  "of 
his  own  free  will";  the  talmudic  phrase  is,  "We  use  coercion  until 
he  says  'I  want  to'  "  (Yevamot  106a).  By  such  legal  fiction,  the  old 
theory  of  a  man's  initiative  was  retained  intact,  all  the  while  that, 
in  real  life,  the  woman's  rights  increased. 

A  pattern  thus  emerges.  For  the  husband,  the  original  right  to 
divorce  was  unchallenged  and  private,  but  the  historical  develop- 
ment  of  the  law  served  continually  to  limit  it.  In  the  case  of  the 
wife,  her  initial  rights  were  limited,  but  as  Halakhah  expanded 
through  the  post-biblical  generation,  these  were   broadened    and 
formalized.  This  unmistakable  pattern  refutes  the  simple-minded 
charges  that  rabbis  seized  every  opporlunity  to  keep  women  power- 
less.  Quite  the  reverse  is  true,  considering  the  rabbinic  capacity  for 
interpreting  the  law,  as  well  as  the  transfer  of  male  authority  from  ' 
one  generation  to  the  next— there  is  an  impressive  degree  of  sensi- 
tivity  and  benevolence  in  the  unfolding  of  the  law.  A  growing  set 
of  Obligations  of  husband  to  wife  and  the  increasing  formalization 
of  her  rights  to  redress  through  the  bet  din  are  clear  indications  of 
an  attitude  of  concern  toward  the  woman. 

Still,  we  are  left  with  some  large  and  serious  problems.  Instead 
of  grappling  directly  with  the  sexist  principle  that  only  a  man  had 
the  right  to  divorce  (i.e.,  write  and  transfer  the  get),  the  rabbis 
used  various  legal  maneuvers  to  subvert  the  original  principle.  The 
exclusive  right  as  derived  from  the  Bible  was  never  formally 
challenged;  it  was  simply  chiseled  away,  bit  by  bit.  As  a  result, 
rabbinic  authorities  in  any  given  generation  could  revert  back  to 
the  original  notion  of  a  man's  power  over  his  wife. 

An  example  of  this  is  found  in  Rabbenu  Gershom's  decree  that  a 
man  could  not  take  more  than  one  wife  or  divorce  his  wife  against 
her  will  (Shulhan  Arukh,  Even  ha-Ezer  1:10,  119:6,  Rama).  This 


ii^-Si. 


was  a  significant  breakthrough.  But  a  minor  qualification  wa5  ap- 
pended  to  the  end  of  this  takkanah:  if  a  recalcitrant  wife  refused  a 
divorce  or  was  physically  unable  to  accept,  a  husband  could  deposit 
the  get  with  the  rabbinic  court,  announce  his  intention  to  divorce, 
receive  the  approval  of  a  hundred  rabbis,  and  then  would  be  free  to 
take  another  wife.  Thus  here,   as  in   other  instances,   the   more 
egalitarian  decision  concerning  a  woman's  right  of  consent  could 
be  reversed  or  tempered  in  certain  situations  on  the  theory  that  the 
husband's  legal  right  could  not  be  abrogated.  Somehow,  in  special- 
need  cases,  the  Halakhah  managed  to  find  a  way  round  the  biblical 
and  talmudic  requirement  that  the  husband  band  her  a  get.  One 
need  not  wonder  why  the  Halakhah  did  not  find  a  parallel — and 
equally  necessary — loophole  to  allow  a  wife  release  from  a  similar 
Situation. 

This  brings  us  to  the  second  and  more  formidable  problem:  a 
woman  could  not  and  can  not  present  her  husband  with  a  get  and 
thereby  divorce  him,  although  she  can  do  the  actual  writing  of  it. 
The  theory  is  that  the  husband  is  the  one  who  created  the  bond 
and  therefore  he  must  be  the  one  to  sever  it  (Kiddushin  56:  9b). 
Nor  is  there  any  provision  in  Jewish  law  by  which  a  get  is  granted 
judicially  in  the  absence  of  or  without  the  consent  of  the  husband. 
Only  the  husband  can  grant  a  get. 

This  can  give  rise  to  the  agunah,  the  anchored  wife,  anchored 
to  an  absentee  husband.^  There  are  two  types  of  agunot:  a  woman 
whose  husband  either  has  deserted,  is  insane,  or  is  missing  and 
presumed  dead  but  whose  death  has  not  been  verified  by  two  wit- 
nesses;  and  a  woman  who  is  the  wife  of  a  recalcitrant  husband  who 
refuses  the  get  for  ignoble  reasons.  This  latter  type  of  agunah 
points  up  the  potential  for  real  abuse  in  Jewish  divorce  law.  Indeed, 
in  every  generation  there  have  been  sinister  tales  of  spite,  black- 
mail,  extortion,  and  delay  until  the  wife  has  met  her  recalcitrant 
husband's  price. 

Throughout  the  centuries  rabbis  have  tried  continually  to  allevi- 
ate  the  plight  of  the  agunah.  In  talmudic  times  the  bet  din  accepted 
her  own  testimony  as  sufficient  proof  of  the  husband's  death,  a 
sharp  reversal  of  Halakhah,  which  required  two  male  witnesses  in 
all  matters  that  come  before  the  rabbinic  courts;  this  is  to  protect 
her  from  the  possibility  that  she  might  become  forever  anchored 


ON     WOMEN     AND    JUDAISM         1         134 


to  an  absentee  husband  (Gittin  3a).  In  talmudic  law,  a  man  was  not 
permitted  to  leave  the  Community  without  guaranteeing  an  agree- 
ment  to  divorce  if  he  did  not  plan  to  return  within  a  specified  time 
(Gittin  6:5,  6;  Ketubbot  IIb).  This  was  a  regulär  feature  of 
medieval  Jewish  society,  where  husbands  had  to  leave  for  extended 
periods  of  time  in  order  to  earn  a  livelihood.^ 

In  this  era,  contemporary  rabbis  expended  great  effort  to  release 
the  agunot  of  the  Holocaust.  The  Israeli  rabbinate,  too,  has  adapted 
Halakhah  to  Israel's  current  precarious  reality.  In  a  broad  move,  it 
required  all  married  male  soldiers  to  deposit  a  conditional  writ  of 
divorce  with  the  bet  din  before  going  to  the  front  lines.  This  was 
based  on  ancient  precedent  (Ketubbot  9b). Moreover,  after  the  Yom 
Kippur  War,  in  a  single  religious  enactment,  over  a  thousand  young 
women  were  released  from  what  otherwise  would  have  been  ex- 
tended agunah  proceedings. 

Still,  there  remain  many  cases  of  agunot  in  Jewish  communities 
around  the  world.  Some  cases  are  too  hard  to  crack,  some  take 
years  to  settle,  some  women  find  they  must  pursue  and  beg. 
Despite  the  compassion  of  the  many  rabbis  who  resolve  individual 
cases,  women  testify  to  a  certain  humiliating  quality  inherent  in 
the  basic  notion  of  agunah,  in  her  Status  in  the  Community,  and  in 
the  very  process  of  release  from  this  State.  ' 

Ironically,  an  open  society  has  worked  to  the  disadvantage  of 
the  Jewish  woman  who  wants  to  bring  suit  for  divorce.  In  the 
closed,  relatively  autonomous  Jewish  communities  of  the  past,  re- 
ligious authorities  could  level  sanctions  against  a  recalcitrant  hus- 
band; in  modern  societies,  however,  the  rabbinic  courts  (outside  of 
Israel)  have  authority  only  over  those  people  who  voluntarily  sub- 
mit  themselves  to  its  dictates.  Contemporary  batei  din,  trying  to 
function  in  a  secular  society,  have  a  low  rate  of  success  in  their 
power  of  subpoena.  Even  in  Israel  there  are  men  who  have  chosen 
to  remain  in  jails  to  which  the  bet  din  remanded  them  rather  than 
free  their  wives  with  a  get. 

Thus,  in  the  attempt  to  reduce  the  disparity  between  man's 
power  and  woman's  powerlessness  in  divorce,  the  rabbis  tried 
hard— perhaps  not  hard  enough.  It  would  have  taken  little  more 
collective  responsibility  to  close  the  gap  altogether,  to  create  a  Situa- 
tion of  real  equality  under  the  law.  The  rabbis  assumed  wide  pow- 


Jeioish  Attitudes  toward  Divorce 


135 


ers  of  interpretation  of  divine  law,  and  even  of  innovation,  in 
situations  where  the  general  needs  of  the  Community  called  for 
accommodation  to  reality  rather  than  rationalization  of  an  unwieldy 
Status  quo.  That  the  rabbis  did  not  go  the  final  step  in  equalizing 
divorce  law  indicates  that  they  were  guided  in  their  interpretations 
by  principles  of  paternalism  and  hierarchy  rather  than  of  equality 
of  male  and  female.  For  this  they  cannot  be  faulted,  given  the  al- 
most  universal  nature  of  the  sexual  hierarchy.  Failure  of  some  con- 
temporary rabbis,  however,  to  use  precedents  that  do  exist  and 
failure  to  acknowledge  that  past  improvements  in  divorce  law  are 
but  part  of  a  continuing  process  leads  one  to  conclude  that  many  of 
them  prefer  to  maintain  the  principle  of  absolute  right,  apologetic 
platitudes  notwithstanding. 

Several  Solutions  have  been  formulated  in  modern  times.  Reform 
Judaism  understood  the  Halakhah  to  be  indefensible  in  terms  of 
the  ethical  and  social  categories  central  to  Reform,  so  it  simply 
dropped  gittin  and  said  civil  divorce  will  do.  If  one  is  concerned 
more  for  equality  than  for  tradition,  that  Solution  meets  the  test. 
If,  however,  one's  commitment  is  to  both  more  equality  and  greater 
Jewish  observance  in  every  sphere  of  life,  then  that  is  no  Solution 
at  all.  In  fairness,  it  should  be  added  that  Reform  is  asking  of  itself 
different  questions  today;  it  is  searching  for  ways  to  make  Jewish 
law  altogether  more  encompassing.  The  time  seems  ripe  for  Reform 
to  rethink  its  stance  on  gittin.  Meanwhile,  it  has  no  operative  Jew- 
ish divorce  law. 

Reconstructionism  has  formulated  a  Solution  that  lies  somewhere 
between  the  two  ends  of  the  spectrum — or,  more  correctly,  at  the 
two  ends  of  the  spectrum.  The  Reconstructionist  rabbinate  uses 
the  traditional  get  and  all  of  the  attendant  procedures.  When  a 
previously  divorced  woman  wants  to  remarry  but  has  been  unable 
to  secure  a  get  from  her  former  husband,  the  Reconstructionist 
bet  din  simply  will  give  her  a  shtar  piturin,  a  document  that  de- 
clares  her  free  to  remarry,  even  though  she  has  no  get,  nor  has  her 
marriage  been  annulled. 

For  the  last  three  decades,  Conservative  Judaism  has  gone 
through  three  stages  of  emendation  in  an  attempt  to  eliminate  po- 
tential   abuse  yet   remain   faithful   to   inherited   tradition.®   These 


C^M      ^f    '^U.  l  M     JL  h  Z*     l  ^  J  X:h,U 


135 


]ewish  Attituiks  ioward  Divorcc      \      137 


changes  are  instructive,  for  they  give  some  idea  of  the  possibilities, 

the  Problems,  and  the  processes  invoJved. 

The  Lieberman  ketubah  was  used  first  in  1954.  By  means  of  a 
takkanah,  Rabbi  Saul  Lieberman  appended  a  t'nai  (conditional 
clause)  to  the  Standard  ketubah:  if  the  marriage  ends  in  civil  di- 
vorce,  either  party  may  invoke  the  authority  of  the  bet  din  to  deter- 
mine  the  Jewish  course  of  action,  the  transfer  of  a  get.  If  either 
party  refuses  the  get,  he  or  she  becomes  liable  to  suit  in  civil  court. 
Presumably  the  court  will  enforce  the  bet  din's  decision.  Although 
this  ketubah  generally  is  no  longer  used  for  the  purposes  of  re- 
solving  cases  of  a  recalcitrant  spouse,  it  is  used  widely  in  marriages 
performed  by  Conservative  rabbis.  (One  of  the  problems  with  this 
ketubah  was  that  it  didn't  cover  divorce  cases  where  the  ketubah 
had  not  been  used  originally.  Moreover,  the  credibility  of  its  threat 
depended  on  its  enforceability  in  a  civil  court,  and  this  remains  in 
doubt.  The  Lieberman  clause  was  rejected  by  the  Orthodox  as 
being  halakhically  invalid  because  of  its  indeterminate  nature.  First, 
the  damages  [knas,  fine]  were  not  spelled  out  and,  therefore,  one 
would  not  sign  such  a  contract  making  oneself  liable  to  an  unde- 
termined  penalty.  The  Lieberman  ketubah,  however,  does  use  the 
Word  pitzuim,  damages,  a  term  often  employed  in  contracts  and 
one  that  is  halakhically  valid;  this  is  about  as  specific  as  one 
would  want  to  be  at  the  time  of  a  marriage  ceremony.  Second,  the 
pledge  the  groom  was  making  was  considered  an  asmakhta — a 
pledge  to  pay  a  fine  for  a  Situation  that  he  was  not  really  expecting 
would  come  to  pass.) 

The  second  stage  was  adoption  of  the  Berkovits  t'nai  in  1968, 
which  differs  from  the  Lieberman  Solution  in  that  it  attached  con- 
ditions  to  the  act  of  marriage  itself.  Rabbi  Eliezer  Berkovits  based  his 
work  on  two  elements:  the  principle  that  a  marriage  could  be  nulli- 
fied  by  the  rabbinic  authorities,  and  the  precedent  in  Jewish  law  of 
establishing  specific  conditions  for  a  marriage.  Unmet,  such  condi- 
tions  would  enable  a  bet  din  to  determine  that  the  marriage  was 
voided  retroactively  and  never  legally  constituted.  This  precedent 
had  also  been  used  by  the  rabbis  of  Paris  in  the  late  nineteenth  Cen- 
tury. The  Berkovits  conditions  were  that  the  couple  not  be  separated 
for  an  undue  amount  of  time,  that  neither  refuses  (or  becomes  un- 
able)  to  give  or  accept  a  divorce,  and  that  the  wife  does  not  conceive 


out  of  adulterous  union.  The  Conservative  law  committee  modified 
this,  and  Rabbi  Edward  Gershfield  worked  out  a  text  to  this  effect: 
if  our  marriage  should  end  in  a  civil  divorce  and  within  six  months 
thereafter  I  give  you  a  get,  our  marriage  will  remain  valid  and 
binding;  if,  however,  six  months  have  passed  and  I  do  not  give  you 
a  get,  then  our  marriage  will  have  been  null  and  void.  This  was  not 
appended  to  the  ketubah;  it  was  signed  as  a  separate  pre-nuptial 
agreement.  In  this  instance  there  was  no  need  to  turn  to  the  civil 
courts  to  enforce  the  get.  On  the  other  band,  its  being  a  separate 
document  was  also  its  weakness;  couples  were  reluctant  to  sign  it 
at  such  a  happy  moment  in  their  lives.  (This  proposal  was  rejected 
by  the  Orthodox  on  the  grounds  that  marriage  is  an  unconditional 
commitment  and  conditional  marriages  and  divorces  thereby  are 
rendered  invalid  by  consummation  of  the  marriage.") 

The    third-stage    Solution,    widely    operative    in    Conservative 
Judaism  today  in  problem  divorce  cases,  is  a  broader  application  of 
havka'at  kiddushin  (the  power  of  the  rabbis  to  annul  marriages 
ab  initio)  (Bava  Batra  48b;  Gittin  33a;  Kiddushin  3a).  It  is  based 
on  the  talmudic  principle  that  all  who  marry  within  the  Jewish 
Community  do  so  with  the  implied  consent  of  and  under  the  condi- 
tions laid  down  by  the  rabbis.  (The  phrase  "according  to  the  laws 
of  Moses  and  Israel"  is  in  the  ketubah  and  is  also  a  central  part  of 
the  ring  ceremony.)  Thus,  a  man's  act  of  marrying  a  woman  is 
validated  by  the  rabbis'  sanction  of  that  act.  Just  as  they  give  sanc- 
tion,  so  can  they  remove  sanction;  the  marriage  continues  to  exist 
only  as  long  as  the  rabbis  agree  to  its  existence.  If  the  rabbis  re- 
move their  sanction  because  of  certain  conditions  no  longer  operat- 
ing,  the  original  act  of  kiddushin  (betrothal)  is  voided.  Retroac- 
tively, it  becomes  simply  an  act  of  giving  a  gift,  such  as  a  ring. 
And  what  about  a  marriage  that  was  consummated?  Even  there, 
the  rabbis  could  declare  the  sexual  liaison  to  have  been  a  non- 
marital  act  (i.e.,  an  act  of  prostitution). 

How  does  it  work  today  in  Conservative  Judaism?  In  the  case  of 
a  recalcitrant  husband,  the  wife  first  goes  to  her  own  rabbi  for 
help.  If  he  cannot  compel  the  husband  (ex-husband  by  civil  law)  to 
grant  a  get,  the  wife  then  appears  before  a  special  bet  din  established 
by  the  Conservative  rabbinate.  She  produces  her  civil  divorce  as 
well  as  proof  of  previous  good-faith  attempts  to  secure  a  get.  If  the 


ON     WOMEN     AND     JUDAISM        [         138 


bet  din  is  satisfied,  it  will  issue  a  document  retroactively  declaring 
the  marriage  null  and  void,  and  she  is  then  free  to  remarry.  This 
differs  from  the  Berkovits  t  nai  in  that  no  additional  conditions  are 
attached  to  the  marriage  and  no  special  agreement  needs  to  be 
signed.  This,  too,  was  rejected  by  many  Orthodox  rabbis,  on  the 
grounds  that  the  power  to  annul  marriages  was  used  only  in  lim- 
ited instances  and  in  post-talmudic  times  the  power  to  annul 
marriages  has  been  constricted. 

What  has  been  done  by  the  Orthodox  Community?  Beyond  re- 
jecting  the  strides  taken  by  Conservative  Judaism  there  has  been 
little  movement.  Meanwhile,  increasing  numbers  of  traditional 
women  who  have  sued  for  divorce  face  the  threat  of  blackmail  for 
a  get. 

The  Winds  of  change  are  in  the  air,  however.  In  1967,  when 
Berkovits  published  his  book,  Tnai  be-nisuin  u-ve-get  (Conditional 
clause  in  marriage  and  divorce  agreements),  he  intended  it  not  for 
Conservative  Judaism  but  for  the  Orthodox  Community  of  which 
he  is  a  member.  Initially  he  had  the  approval  of  his  teacher,  the 
eminent  posek  Harav  Yechiel  Yaakov  Weinberg.  With  increasing 
pressure  from  the  right,  the  ailing  Weinberg  withdrew  his  approval, 
and  the  vocal  elements  in  the  Orthodox  rabbinate  utterly  rejected 
Berkovits's  proposal.  There  was  quiet  support  for  Berkovits,  but 
quiet  support  doesn't  help  much. 

In  the  early  1970s,  Ze'ev  Falk,  an  Orthodox  professor  at  the 
Hebrew  University,  updated  the  facts.''  He  gave  a  generous  survey 
of  all  previous  Solutions  offered,  stating  that  the  recalcitrant  hus- 
band  Situation  is  more  widespread  in  Israel  than  in  the  United 
States,  with  cases  often  taking  up  to  ten  years  to  resolve  through 
the  religious  courts,  ten  years  during  which  a  woman  cannot  re- 
marry. In  1977,  Irwin  S.  Haut''  traced  the  history  of  an  ancient 
takkanah  enacted  by  the  geonim  and  used  by  them  for  over  three 
hundred  years:  if,  after  twelve  months,  the  wife  does  not  relent  in 
her  pursuit  of  a  get,  the  husband  can  be  forced  by  the  bet  din  to 
give  one  to  her.  This  takkanah  was  enacted  long  ago  to  put  an  end 
to  the  practice  of  Jewish  women  hiring  gentile  strong-arm  men  "to 
force  him  until  he  says  I  want  to."  Haut  calls  for  the  Israeli  rabbi- 
nate, as  a  centralized  authority,  to  enact  a  new  takkanah,  along  the 
lines  of  the  geonic  one  that  long  since  has  expired.  It  would  compel 


Jewish  Attitudes  toivard  Divorce 


139 


a  man  who  lives  outside  Israel  and  who  has  been  granted  a  civil 
divorce  to  give  his  wife  a  get;  if  a  man  so  enjoined  by  the  bet  din, 
whether  in  the  diaspora  or  in  Israel,  still  refuses,  then  the  bet  din 
shall  declare  the  marriage  annulled  or  dissolved.  The  difference  be- 
tween  this  Solution  and  the  Conservative  one  today  is  the  use  of  a 
takkanah  and  the  centralization  of  authority  in  the  Israeli  rabbinate. 

In  Jewish  Women  in  Jewish  Law,  widely  read  in  Orthodox  circles, 
Moshe  Meiselman  acknowledges  the  problem  of  recalcitrant  hus- 
bands.^^  In  his  unswerving  desire  not  to  touch  the  halakhic  Status 
quo,  he  calls  on  the  secular  courts  for  a  Solution:  the  civil  court 
should  enforce  the  decision  of  the  bet  din  when  it  recommends  a 
get  and  none  is  forthcoming.  Meiselman  doesn't  deal  with  the 
First  Amendment  issue;  moreover,  although  he  acknowledges  the 
very  sporadic  success  in  civil  courts  thus  far,  he  waves  that  prob- 
lem aside  with  the  unfounded  optimism  that  the  problems  will  be 
solved  by  better  education  of  civil  judges.^*  But  he  does  call  for 
repair. 

At  its  annual  Convention  in  1978,  the  Rabbinical  Council  of 
America  devoted  a  major  session  to  the  contemporary  problems  in 
gittin.  Rabbi  Meir  Feldblum,  a  noted  halakhic  authority,  raised  the 
issues  and  several  Solutions.  At  Bar  Ilan  University's  Conference 
on  Jewish  Women  in  1978,  the  president,  Rabbi  Emanuel  Rackman, 
an  acknowledged  leader  of  modern  Orthodoxy,  opened  the  delib- 
erations  with  a  halakhic  history  of  havka'at  kiddushin.  He  forth- 
rightly  called  for  its  use  by  the  rabbinate.  Several  months  later  he 
repeated  this  call  in  print;  his  message  was  picked  up  on  the  front 
page  of  several  American  Jewish  weeklies. 

Finally,  there  have  been  the  efforts  of  women,  in  smaller  and 
larger  communities.  A  group  of  Orthodox  women  in  a  Canadian 
city  simply  announced  that  none  of  them  would  go  to  the  mikveh 
until  a  friend  of  theirs  received  a  free  get  from  her  ex-husband, 
who  was  holding  out  for  twenty-five  thousand  dollars.  The  woman 
received  her  get  in  no  time.  In  1980,  an  Organization  called  G.E.T. 
was  formed  by  traditional  women  who  intend  to  apply  pressure 
until  women  Get  Equal  Treatment  in  Jewish  divorce  proceedings. 

Nevertheless,  the  problems  of  inequity  remain,  with  an  increas- 
ing number  of  women — the  traditional  women — paying  a  steep 
price  for  their  adherence  to  Halakhah.  What  is  more,  an  altogether 


ON     WOMEN     AND    JUDAISM        |        140 


Jeiüish  Attitudes  toioard  Divorce 


141 


new  Problem  exists,  unprecedented  in  Jewish  history:  a  Community 
operating  by  four  different  sets  of  divorce  law,  as  if  we  were  four 
different  communities. 

What  remains  to  be  done,  then,  is  to  formulate  a  Solution  that 
would  solve  both  problems:  eliminate  any  potential  for  abuse  of 
women  and  unite  all  branches  of  Judaism  in  its  universal  accept- 
ance.  To  achieve  both  means  that  all  Jews  will  have  to  accept  that 
there  is  something  distinctive  about  being  a  Jew  and  living  under 
Jewish  law.  It  means  that  we  will  all  have  a  heightened  sense  of 
awareness  that  marriage  and  divorce  and  every  other  sweep  of  our 
lives  should  be  experienced  properly  within  the  framework  of  a 
holy  Community, 

Like  most  of  our  rituals,  divinely  mandated  and  contoured  by 
several  millennia  of  Jewish  living,  a  Jewish  divorce  is  about  as 
finely  tuned  to  the  human  need  of  the  moment  as  one  could  an- 
ticipate.  Unlike  the  final  moment  in  a  civil  divorce,  a  Jewish  divorce 
is  not  an  adversary  Situation.  There  is  no  litigation,  no  grounds, 
no  recriminations,  no  attempts  at  reconciliation,  no  high  drama.  In 
fact,  there  is  almost  no  conversation.  All  of  that,  whatever  there 
was  of  it,  took  place  at  another  time.  The  divorce  itself  is  an  un-  , 
adorned  legal  procedure,  performed  at  the  last  stage,  an  act  that 
lends  a  profound  sense  of  finality  and  closure  to  the  relationship. 
This  is  no  small  feat,  for  as  social  scientists  increasingly  report,  a 
sense  of  closure  is  one  of  the  most  difficult  stages  for  one  to  reach 
in  the  throes  of  a  divorce. 

But  it  is  not  its  worthiness  as  a  therapeutic  tool  on  which  the 
strength  of  Jewish  divorce  rests.  A  Jewish  divorce,  like  a  Jewish 
marriage,  a  Jewish  birth,  or  a  Jewish  death,  is,  quite  simply,  the  way 
a  Jew  lives.  This  is  how  Jews  have  done  these  things  for  several 
millennia;  this  is  the  manner  in  which  one  marks  oneself  as  a  Jew 
today. 

Thus  leaders  of  all  of  the  branches  of  Judaism  will  have  to  come 
together  and  talk  to  each  other  in  order  to  work  out  a  mutually 
acceptable  Solution,  each  recognizing  the  other  as  part  of  klal 
Yisrael,  the  total  Jewish  Community.  Smug,  isolationist  positions 
will  have  to  fall  away. 

To  help  that  process  along,  women  will  have  to  increase  their 


I 


i 


efforts.  Given  the  current  nature  of  entrenched  interests  and  insti- 
tutional  hard  lines,  Jewish  women  of  every  political  and  religious 
shade  must  attempt  to  bring  together  the  dissonant  ends  and  to 
fill  the  vacuum  created  by  loss  of  initiative  of  current  religious 
leaders.  Who  can  know  the  impact  of  a  thousand  women  protest- 
ing  to  the  leaders  of  Reform  Judaism  for  restoration  of  a  halakhic 
Jewish  divorce  law?  Who  can  know  the  effect  of  a  thousand  Jews 
calling  on  the  bet  din  of  the  Rabbinical  Council  of  America  to 
reexamine  the  current  injustices  in  halakhic  divorce?  (Surely  the 
rabbinic  authorities  would  approach  their  storehouse  of  halakhic 
precedents  and  principles  with  a  different  sense  of  urgency,  in 
much  the  same  way  they  have  done  in  so  many  individual  cases  of 
agunot.)  Who  knows  but  that  the  pressure  on  Conservative  leader- 
ship  will  spur  them  to  seek  greater  Cooperation  with  all  strata  of 
the  Jewish  religious  Community? 

It  is  hard  to  project  what  the  optimal  form  of  revision  ultimately 
will  be.  Perhaps  it  will  be  along  the  lines  of  havkaat  kiddushin, 
used  by  the  Conservative  bet  din  and  recommended  by  numerous 
Orthodox  scholars.  Perhaps  it  will  be  a  conditional  clause  added 
to  the  ketubah.  Perhaps  the  diaspora  rabbinate  will  place  it  in  the 
hands  of  the  Israeli  rabbinate,  where  the  centralization  of  author- 
ity  in  family  law  lends  itself  more  easily  to  global  rather  than  in- 
dividual Solutions. 

Perhaps,  with  a  new  sense  of  equality  of  women,  the  revision 
will  take  the  form  of  a  takkanah  that  will  empower  a  woman  to 
transfer  a  get.  If,  as  halakhists  defensively  point  out,  marriage  is 
a  change  of  Status  rather  than  unilateral  acquisition  of  woman  by 
man,  if  a  woman  is  a  mutually  active  and  reciprocal  partner  in  all 
of  these  transactions,  if  divorce  is  a  more  halakhically  correct  way 
of  ending  a  marriage  than  annulment,  then  having  a  woman  de- 
liver  the  get  where  a  man  refuses,  may  be  a  better  halakhic  Solu- 
tion all  around.  A  usable  precedent  may  be  one  that  circumvents 
the  law  requiring  a  husband  to  pay  for  the  writing  of  the  get. 
When  a  man  refused  to  pay  the  scribal  fee,  the  court  required  the 
woman  to  pay  so  that  the  husband  would  not  cause  her  delay  in 
securing  her  freedom  (Bava  Batra  168a). 

All  of  this  brings  us  to  the  question  of  tradition  and  change.  In 
view  of  the  fact  that  the  unfolding  Halakhah  on  divorce  reflects  an 


ON     WOMEN    AND    JUDAISM 


142 


Jeiüish  Attitudes  toward  Divorce 


143 


unmistakable  pattern  of  limiting  the  husband's  and  expanding  the 
wife's  rights,  the  rabbis  •£  today  no  longer  can  say  they  can  not 
"work  it  out."  To  say  their  hands  are  tied,  or  to  say  they  can  re- 
solve  an  individual  problem  but  not  find  a  global  Solution,  is  to 
deny  their  collective  responsibility.  Worse,  it  bespeaks  a  lack  of 
rabbinic  will  to  find  a  halakhic  way.  What  they  are  really  saying 
is  they  are  not  worthy  of  the  authority  vested  in  them,  for  well 
they  know  that  the  only  person  whose  hands  are  tied  is  the  woman 
whose  family  must  pay  blackmail. 

If  there  were  no  abuses  in  the  area  of  divorce,  I  would  not  mind 
the  male  prerogative  preserved  and  this  law  untouched.  A  one- 
sided  kiddushin  harbors  no  real  injustice  and  ought  to  be  appreci- 
ated  for  what  it  is:  an  ancient  rabbinic  tradition,  the  Jewish  way 
men  and  women  have  married  for  thousands  of  years.  In  that  alone 
there  is  great  value  and  sentiment. 

But  given  the  opposite  condition  today — increasing  abuse — 
halakhists  ought  to  commit  themselves  not  only  to  alleviation  of 
individual  distress  here  and  there  but  to  the  notion  of  a  just  law. 
For  alleviation  of  an  individual  is  not  justice  for  an  entire  System. 
If  halakhists  do  not  put  their  minds  and  energies  to  this  problem, 
then  I  suspect  that  we  will  see  what  we  have  seen  in  the  past — the 
regulation  of  one  more  area  of  human  relations  shrinking  in  the 
hands  of  the  interpreters  of  Jewish  law,  as  growing  numbers  of 
Jews  solve  their  problems  elsewhere.*'^ 

Broad-scale  resolution  of  the  inequity  would  serve  another  ad- 
vantage.  It  would  eliminate  the  enormous  cost  in  rabbinic  time 
and  energy  now  spent  in  trying  to  procure  a  get  from  a  recalcitrant 
husband.  Religious  leaders  would  then  be  free  to  attend  to  the  real 
problem:  the  factors  behind  the  rising  rate  of  divorce,  the  unreal 
expectations  of  marriage,  the  ideology  of  "me  first,"  the  impatience 
men  and  women  have  when  it  comes  to  working  steadily  at  a 
relationship. 

Some  years  ago,  when  I  first  began  to  research  the  subject,  I 
feit  a  great  ambivalence,  even  a  sense  of  dread,  as  I  spoke  of  funda- 
mental change  of  the  biblical  principle  of  absolute  right.  Part  of 
that  dread  grows  out  of  my  spiritual  rootedness  in  a  Community 
that,  at  most,  allows  itself  to  speak  in  hushed  tones  about  gradual 
changes  over  a  period  of  two  millennia.  Nor  am  I  unmindful  of  the 


i 


fact  that  the  divinity  of  the  Torah  has  remained  so  strong  through- 
out  the  ages,  precisely  because  the  rabbis  were  so  careful  not  to 
forbid  what  was  permitted  and  permit  what  was  forbidden.  By 
nature  and  education,  then,  I  have  always  preferred  Solutions  that 
involved  least  change  in  the  basic  structure  of  Halakhah. 

Nevertheless,  I  must  stop  and  ask  whether  half-way  Steps  would 
be  doing  a  disservice  to  Jewish  women,  say,  ten  generations  from 
now.  Has  that  not  happened  to  women  in  this  generation  of  Jew- 
ish living  in  an  open  society?  Moreover,  with  increased  under- 
standing  of  law  and  process  I  must  question  whether  the  principle 
is  truly  principle.  Perhaps  the  essence  of  biblical  law  is  the  deliv- 
ery  of  the  get,  a  formal  document  that  gives  proper  legal  and 
psychological  closure  to  a  relationship.  Perhaps  the  male  preroga- 
tive— man  giving  the  get  to  woman — is  but  form  and  not  essence. 
Perhaps  it  was  an  accident  of  history  that  a  pervasive  notion  of 
hierarchy  of  the  sexes  enabled  procedure  to  be  hardened  into  prin- 
ciple, thereby  blocking  out  other  more  important  principles  such  as 
tikkun  olam,  improvement  of  the  social  order,  equality  for  all  mem- 
bers  of  the  covenanted  Community. 

Inevitably,  there  will  always  be  injustice  and  imbalances  in 
every  divorce  Situation;  that,  sadly,  is  the  nature  of  the  dissolution 
of  a  human  relationship.  But  the  law  should  not  discriminate 
against  one  sex.  And  if  there  is  one  woman  in  each  generation  who 
suffers  unnecessarily  as  a  result  of  the  law,  then  the  law  is  biased 
against  all  women. 

If,  as  I  believe,  Judaism  is  the  most  ethical,  most  sensitive  of  all 
religions,  if  since  revelation  Judaism  has  moved  toward  its  own 
best  values,  a  reinterpretation  that  would  bring  about  greater 
equality  should  be  articulated  not  in  categories  of  change/no  change 
but  rather  as  part  of  the  organic  growth  of  a  holy  people  as  it 
moves  through  history. 


NOTES 

1.  I  recommend  four  excellent  sources  on  this  topic,  two  in  English  and 
two  in  Hebrew:  David  Werner  Amram,  The  Jewish  Law  of  Divorce  in  the 
Bible  and  Talmud  (New  York:  Hermon,  1968);  Ze'ev  Falk,  Divorce  Action  by 


I 


ON    WOMEN    AND    JUDAISM        |        144 


the  Wife  in  the  Middle  Ages  (Jerusalem:  Hebrew  University,  1973);  Benzion 
Schereschewsky,  Dinei  mishpahah  [Family  law]  (Jerusalem:  R.  Mass,  1967); 
Eliezer  Berkovits,  Tnai  he-nisuin  u-ve-get  [Condilional  clause  in  the  marriage 
and  divorce  agreements]   (Jerusalem:  Mossad  Harav  Kuk,  1967). 

2.  See  James  B.  Pritchard,  ed.,  Ancient  Near  Rastern  Texts  (Princeton: 
Princeton  University  Press,  1969),  pp.  137-40;  Roland  de  Vaux,  Ancient  Israel: 
Its  Life  and  Institutions  (New  York:  McGraw-Hill,  1965),  eh.  2. 

3.  Rabbi  Akiba  extended  this  further:  it  was  within  the  rights  of  the 
husband  to  discard  his  wife  if  he  found  another  he  liked  better;  he  based 
his  Interpretation  on  the  phrase  "if  she  found  no  favor  in  his  eyes."  See 
Meyer  S.  Feldblum,  Talmudic  Law  and  Literature  (New  York:  Yeshiva  Uni- 
versity, 1969),  pp.  221-3. 

4.  Since  this  was  an  abrogation  of  the  biblical  right  of  the  husband,  the 
rabbis  saw  fit  to  explain  their  action.  They  forbade  it  because  they  under- 
stood  the  consequences,  that  the  woman  would  become  destitute  and  helpless 
and  an  easy  prey.  Hut  they  "covered"  their  humane  tracks  with  a  legal  ra- 
tionale. Since  the  Torah  required  the  get  be  given  "into  her  band,"  it  must 
have  been  meant  that  she  be  capable  of  receiving  it  (i.e.,  in  possession  of  her 
füll  faculties;  this  was  one  instance  where  "into  her  band"  was  applied  as  prin- 
ciple  and  not  merely  as  procedure).  Further,  the  Torah  described  a  divorcce 
as  "one  who  is  cast  away  from  his  house  and,  therefore,  will  not  return.  But 
an  insane  person,  you  send  her  away  and  she  keeps  Coming  back"  (Yevamot 
113b).  This  is  an  example  of  that  profound  rabbinic  process,  of  making  rab- 
binic  law  "continuous"  with  the  Torah.  Interestingly,  when  Maimonides  de- 
scribes  this  ruling,  he  cites  only  the  humane  reason  and  not  the  legally  con- 
tinuous  one  (Mishneh  Torah,  Hilkhot  Gerushin  10:23).  Tracing   the  process 
a  Step  further,  in  medieval  times,  after  the  ban  on  polygamy  was  enacted,' 
the  rabbis   occasionally  granted   dispensation  to   the  husband  of   an   insane 
woman  to  take  another  wife.  This  was  permitted,  however,  only  when  the 
insanity  was  deemed  incurable  and  the  husband  provided  adequatcly  for  her 
care,  a  rather  humane  Solution  all  around.  Maimonides'  formulation  is  a  bit 
harsher:  the  husband  sets  her  aside,  takes  another  wife^  and  when  she  be- 
comes  well   he  then  divorces  her.   In  olher  words,   there  is  no  condition   of 
incurability  here.  Moreover,  the  husband  is  not  required  to  provide  shelter, 
medical  care,  nor  ransom  money  (Mishneh  Torah,  Hilkhot  Gerushin  10:23). 
Obviously,  Maimonides  applied  neither  Rabbenu  Gershom's  ban  against  forci- 
ble  divorce  nor  exceptions  to  it.  On  the  other  band,  Maimonides  went  further 
than  Rabbenu  Gershom  in  certain  respccts. 

5.  The  Shulhan  Arukh  lists  101  steps  in  the  ruies  of  procedure  attending 
divorce.  The  Rama  adds  several  notes  and  refinements  to  that  list.  See  Amram, 
Jewish  Law  of  Divorce,  pp.  192-204.  Another  work  used  by  those  who  deal 
regularly  with  gittin  is  the  Kav  Naki,  the  scventeenth-century  comprehensive 
manual  of  divorce  procedures. 

6.  There  was  even  a  Spanish  tradition  that  required  no  grounds  at  all: 
"If  she  says,  'I  despise  him,'  in  my  opinion  we  compel  him  to  divorce  her 
immediately,  for  she  isn't  like  a  captive  that  she  must  have  intercourse  with 
someone  who  is  hateful  to  her"  (Mishneh  Torah,  Hilkhot  Ishut  14:8). 


Jewish  Attitudes  toioard  Divorce 


145 


7.  See  Chaim  Grade's  novel,  The  Agunah  (Boston:  Twayne,  1974). 

8.  See  Israel  Abrahams,  Jewish  Life  in  the  Middle  Ages  (New  York: 
Atheneum,  1969),  p.  90. 

9.  See  Seymour  Siegel,  "The  Living  Halakhah:  Conservative  Judaism  and 
Jewish  Law,"  United  Synagogue  Review  (Winter  1979). 

10.  See  Moshe  Meiselnian,  Jewish  Women  and  Jewish  Law  (New  York: 
Ktav,  1978),  pp.  103-8. 

11.  Ze'ev  Falk,  The  Divorce  Action  by  the  Wife  in  Jewish  Law  (Jeru- 
salem: ILRCU  1973). 

12.  Irwin  H.  Haut,  "A  Problem  in  Jewish  Divorce  Law:  An  Analysis  and 
Seme  Suggestions,"  Tradition  16  (Spring  1977):  29-49. 

13.  Meiselman,  Jewish  Women,  eh.  14. 

14.  Several  scholars  and  legal  historians  have  shown  the  inherent  fallacy 
of  relying  on  the  civil  courts  in  this  matter.  See,  for  example,  A.  Leo  Levin 
and  Mayer  Kramer,  New  Provisions  in  the  Ketubah:  A  Legal  Opinion  (New 
York:  Yeshiva  University,  1955). 

15.  See  Stephen  Beiner,  "Israeli  Divorce  Proceedings:  A  Comparative 
Study"  (unpublished). 


The  Issue  of  Abortion 


T  TENSE  at  the  thought  of  getting  caught  up  in  the  contro- 
■*■  versy  over  abortion.  Emotionally,  theologically,  as  a  Jew,  and 
most  of  all  as  a  mother  who  is  nurtured  daily  by  the  sights  and 
Sounds  of  her  children,  I  am  opposed  to  abortion.  And  yet,  the 
other  facets  of  unwanted  pregnancy  cannot  be  ignored — fatigued 
and  harassed  parents,  the  shame  of  rape,  the  premature  end  of 
youth  (in  the  case  of  teenage  pregnancy),  the  degradation  and  dan- 
ger of  coat-hanger  abortions,  and,  not  least,  the  overwhelming  and 
exclusive  claim  a  child  makes  on  a  woman's  life  for  many  of  her 
strongest  years.  I  therefore  have  supported  legalized  abortion  re- 
form, with  the  füll  knowledge  of  the  ambivalence  of  my  position. 

Social  issues,  whatever  their  nature,  are  rarely  clear-cut,  with  all 
the  truth  on  one  side.  This  is  particularly  so  in  the  case  of  abortion. 
Here  we  find  conflicts  between  the  generally  accepted  halakhic 
Position  on  abortion  and  the  individual  needs  of  women.  There  is 
also  the  disjunction  between  concern  for  world  overpopulation  and 
concern  for  Jewish  survival,  where  sheer  numbers  are  significant. 
There  is  the  disparity  between  the  opportunity  to  increase  medical 
knowledge  and  the  excesses  of  fetal  experimentation.  Finally,  there 
is  conflict  in  the  confusion  of  options,  as  well  as  in  areas  of  control 
assigned  to  religion  or  State  or  individual.  What  changes,  one  must 
ask,  does  a  society  undergo  when  ever  greater  areas  of  morality 
become  matters  of  individual  conscience? 

But  one  is  forced  to  make  choices,  and  because  all  life  decisions 
are  made  with  competing  claims  in  mind,  I  must,  however  tenu- 
ously,  come  down  on  the  side  of  abortion  as  a  legal  Option  in  the 


147 


i 


ON     WOMEN    AND    JUDAISM        |        148 


United  States.  Moreover,  as  a  member  of  a  faith  Community  that 
has  a  stake  in  the  lavvs  of  this  country,  I  believe  that  we  ought  to 
reexamine  the  Jewish  tradition  to  see  where  the  more  lenient  in- 
terpretation  of  the  Jewish  law  can  support  legalized  abortion.  We 
should  do  this,  however,  with  reservations,  and  also  with  a  sense 
of  urgency,  in  order  to  inform  our  people  and  society  at  large  with 
our  own  value  System. 

All  of  this  means  exploring  new  roles  and  responsibilities  for 
the  halakhic  Community  rather  than  continuing  to  expend  time  and 
energy,  as  is  now  the  case,  in  trying  to  impose  the  stricter  in- 
terpretation  of  Jewish  law  upon  a  nation  that  to  a  large  degree  has 
moved  in  the  other  direction.  To  permit  abortion  as  a  medical  Op- 
tion, yet  to  educate  and  infuse  society  with  a  transcendent  perspec- 
tive, may  be  the  greatest  contribution  that  moral  and  religious 
communities  can  make.  It  ultimately  may  end  the  long,  grisly 
history  of  illegal  abortions  yet  simultaneously  begin  to  curb  facile 
abortions.  It  also  may  help  a  searching  society  to  internalize  an 
ethic  that  incorporates  a  sense  of  the  preciousness  of  human  rela- 
tionships  and  of  life  itself. 

The  antiabortion  elements  in  the  Jewish  Community  commonly 
cite  the  following  arguments  to  support  their  claims: 

1.  The  dangers  to  which  legalized  abortions  could  lead,  that  is, 
abuses  of  scientific  manipulation,  such  as  eugenics  or  euthana- 
sia. 

2.  The  halakhic  view  opposing  abortion  except  in  lifesaving  cases. 

3.  The  devaluation  of  human  life  in  the  abortion  process  itself — 
men  and  women  taking  matters  into  their  own  hands,  "tran- 
scending  their  role  as  humans  and  undertaking  to  play  God.'" 

Regarding  the  first  argument,  there  is  no  evidence  that  legalizing 
abortion  necessarily  will  lead  to  greater  abuses.  Sweden  liberalized 
its  abortion  laws  many  years  ago,  yet  Germany,  without  a  long 
history  of  legalized  abortion,  conceived  of  and  executed  the  Aryan 
master  race  plan  and  the  Mengele  medical  experiments.  This 
domino  argument  is  not  relevant  to  the  abortion  controversy.  In 
good  measure,  the  responsibility  of  the  halakhic  Community  is  not 
to  say  that  abortion  will  lead  to  abuse,  but  rather  ever  to  be  alert 
that  it  does  not. 


As  tcr  n^e  Kalikhic  posidar*  or*  «rcrdon,  xti  rr%'ie»ing  ir.e  ;irer«- 
ture  it  appears  that  there  are  a  number  of  different  views,  some 
lenient,  others  strict.*  These  all  derive  from  several  basic  sources  in 
the  Torah,  Mishnah,  and  Talmud.  The  most  direct  Statement  on  the 
matter  is  to  be  found  in  Mishnah  Oholoth  1\6\  "\i  a  woman  is 
having  a  hard  labor,  and  her  life  is  in  danger,  then  the  fetus  may 
be  cut  up  and  extracted  limb  by  limb,  for  her  life  takes  precedence 
over  that  of  the  fetus.  But  if  the  greater  part  of  the  fetus  has  al- 
ready  been  born,  one  may  not  touch  it,  for  the  life  of  one  person 
may  not  be  taken  for  that  of  another."  Until  its  birth,  then,  the 
fetus  is  not  a  nefesh,  a  human  life. 

Halakhah  does  not  view  abortion  as  murder,  as  a  crime  calling 
for  capital  punishment.  Nor  does  it  ascribe  rights  to  the  fetus, 
which  explains  the  relative  absence  of  the  "right-to-life"  stance  in 
the  Jewish  antiabortion  campaign.  The  Torah  teaches  that  if  a  man 
strikes  a  pregnant  woman  and  kills  the  fetus,  he  is  fined  only  dam- 
ages  for  property  (Exod.  21:12,  22-23);  ironically,  this  fine  is  paid 
to  the  husband,  as  if  the  fetus  were  considered  his  property. 

Around  these  central  themes  there  has  arisen  a  whole  body  of 
rabbinic  literature  dealing  with  such  questions  as  the  Status  of  the 
fetus  before  and  after  forty  days — the  Talmud  describes  the  fetus 
as  "water"  until  the  fortieth  day — and  what  constitutes  legitimate 
circumstances  for  abortion  (Yevamot  69b;  Niddah  15b,  30a-b; 
Berakhot  60a). 

On  the  whole,  the  traditional  Jewish  view  on  abortion  has  been 
more  permissive  than  the  classic  Christian  view.  Yet  even  where 
abortion  was  permitted  by  halakhists,  it  was  performed  only  in 
cases  of  therapeutic  abortions  where  not  to  abort  would  constitute 
a  grave  threat  to  the  life  or  health  of  the  mother.  With  very  few 
exceptions,  the  health  of  the  fetus  is  not  seen  as  a  valid  reason  for 
abortion.  Thus,  in  those  minority  opinions  that  permit  abortion 
for  malformed  fetuses,  such  as  in  the  Thalidomide  cases,  the  rab- 
binic decisions  are  based  on  a  broad  interpretation  of  the  threat  to 
the  mother's  health  and  not  on  considerations  of  the  potential  suf- 
fering  of  the  child.' 

The  real  issue  we  face  today,  however,  is  not  therapeutic  abor- 
tion but  abortion  on  demand.  In  this  regard  there  are  very  few 
Jewish  responsa  dealing  with  abortion  based  on  personal,  economic. 


I 


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\  pre- 


r/iC/Jer/i  ti/Zies,  /^he/e  even  bi/t/»  controi  was  leuncted  care/uiiy  and 
where  the  procreative  function  was  high  on  the  list  of  mitzvot,  new 
life  was  valued,  particularJy  so  because  Jife  aJtogether  was  pre- 
carious:  you  had  to  have  eight  chiJdren  if  you  wanted  four  to  sur- 
vive.  And  until  modern  times,  abortion  was  not  common  in  the 
general  culture  (/ews  in  the  diaspora  aivvays  have  been  aHected  by 
the  mores  of  the  prevailing  society).  Furthermore,  in  our  own  day, 
when  many  Jews  opt  to  have  only  one  or  two  children,  and  when 
the  issue  of  abortion  has  assumed  national  importance,  most  Jews 
do  not  look  to  rabbinic  guidance  for  decisions  in  these  areas. 

Since  there  are  no  traditional  Jewish  precedents  for  abortion  on 
demand,  one  way  to  maintain  some  integrity  within  the  halakhic 
framework  could  be  to  broaden  the  interpretation  of  therapeutic 
abortion,  to  extend  the  principle  of  precedence  of  the  mother's 
actual  life  and  health  to  include  serious  regard  for  the  quality  of 
life  as  well.  By  linking  one  to  the  other — respect  for  the  quality  of 
her  life  to  the  ancient  halakhic  regard  for  her  life  when  the  embryo 
threatens  her  physically — this  would  help  the  decision-makers  more 
readily  to  adjust  between  legitimate  and  illegitimate  need.  Indeed, 
in  the  halakhic  literature  there  exist  several  precedents  of  exactly 
that  nature.  In  the  nineteenth  and  twentieth  centuries  there  have 
been  responsa  permitting  abortion  in  cases  of  rape  of  a  married 
woman,  in  cases  where  the  birth  would  cause  extended  suffering  to 
the  mother,  or,  as  noted  above,  in  the  minority  decisions  on  mal- 
formed  fetuses.  These  decisions  were  made  by  respected  halakhists 
who  moved  in  their  application  of  the  law  from  purely  physical  to 
mental  and  emotional  considerations  of  the  mother — which  is  what 
the  current  issue  regarding  abortion  is  all  about/ 

Although  one  can  envision  a  halakhic  stance  that  urges  avoid- 
ance  of  abortion  for  all  the  familiär  traditional  and  theological  rea- 
sons,  the  circumstances  under  which  abortion  is  permissible  may 
be  widened.  Such  conditions  may  include  the  emotional  inability 
to  cope  with  childbearing  and  rearing — for  example,  the  need  to 
Support  oneself  (or  one's  spouse)  through  school,  the  time  required 
for  a  marriage  to  stabilize,  overwhelming  responsibilities  to  other 
children,  and  so  forth.  In  these  cases,  abortion  should  be  seen  as  a 


t- 


1 


«I  »w       •«. 


A,^«C     «L.«^i      ^««C     KaV.4 


cITvV 


tion  upon  indix-iduals  and  society — 1  l\nd  merit  in  the  view  that  the 
Problem  with  easy  abortion  is  that  it  may  become  simply  a  means 
of  birth  control,  devoid  of  the  seriousness  regarding  the  mystery  of 
human  conception.  I  understood  this  when  I  read,  some  years  ago, 
of  the  strike  of  nurses  in  a  large  Hast  Coast  hospital.  They  could 
no  longer  abide  the  continual  sight  of  aborted  fetuses  piled  high  in 
the  bins  of  the  abortion  theater.  The  image  that  follov^ed  in  my 
mind  was  the  heaps  of  corpses  that  numbed  the  Allied  inspection 
teams  in  Auschwitz,  1945,  and  that  numb  the  Jewish  people  for- 
ever.  It  is  the  ultimate  desecration  of  man  and  woman  made  in  the 
image  of  God.  Here,  truly,  is  the  dialectic  in  the  abortion  issue  with 
which  one  must  come  to  grips. 

The  question  then  arises:  how  can  one  retain  the  principles  of 
reverence  for  life  built  into  the  Halakhah  while  broadening  the 
grounds  for  abortion. 

One  answer  is  that  sanctions  for  abortion — or  against  it — should 
be  framed  as  part  of  a  theological  whole,  in  which  conception  and 
birth  are  core  segments  of  that  theology.  A  Jew  should  ask  and 
answer  personal  questions  with  wider  reference  to  a  religious  code 
that  has  as  its  value-source  God  and  Community.  This  is  the  re- 
verse  of  how  abortion  decisions  often  are  made  today. 

It  will  take  courage  for  the  framers  of  Jewish  law  to  rule  that  in 
certain  instances  abortion  is  the  higher  morality,  in  keeping  with 
Overall  principles  of  kavod  ha-briot  (respect  for  all  living  things) 
and  tzelem  elohim  ("in  the  image  of  God") — principles  that  some- 
times  are  lost  in  the  myriad  of  laws  developed  to  express  those 
very  priorities.  For  example,  Jewish  law,  as  we  have  seen,  sanc- 
tions abortion  in  cases  where  the  mother's  health  is  at  stake.  In 
various  responsa,  rabbinic  authorities  have  extended  this  notion  to 
include  her  psychological  health  as  well.*^  Those  responsa  could 
Support  new  ones,  which  would  encompass  such  variables  as  physi- 
cal strength,  stress,  even  delay  in  child  rearing  for  purposes  of 
family  planning.  Further,  the  fact  that  in  Jewish  law  love  and  mar- 
riage are  positive  values  should  allow   room  to  deal   with  cases 


Iti 


ON     W  (J  M  I.  N     AND     /  U  D  A  /  S  M        | 


152 


'^^•■^Vi- 


vvhere  a  wife  becomes  pregnant  before  ihe  couple  has  had  a  chance 
to  develop  a  solid  relationship. 

The  principle  of  ve-hai  ba-hem  ("and  you  shall  live  by  them/' 
the  mitzvot  that  is  [Lev.  18:5])"  could  be  applied  to  the  abortion  of 
a  Tay-Sachs  or  deformed  fetus.  Here  the  dignity  of  tzelem  elohim 
must  be  interpreted  not  as  opposing  abortion  lest  it  lead  to  de- 
humanization  but  rather  in  the  light  of  the  suffering  and  the  in- 
evitable  death  that  will  ensue.  It  is  true  that  some  children  with  de- 
formities  are  more  loved  and  evoke  deeper  feelings  of  compassion 
than  do  perfect  specimens.  Yet  institutions  are  füll  of  pathetic, 
rejected,  malformed,  non-functioning  children  who  eke  out  a  mis- 
erable, inhuman  life  and  whose  parents  have  deep  vvells  of  guilt. 
In  this  Situation,  forced  birth  is  the  dehumanizing  Situation.  Finally, 
the  fact  that  the  Talmud  considered  a  fetus  as  water  until  the 
fortieth  day  allows  further  room  for  abortion  under  wider  circum- 
stances. 

Halakhists  should  not  be  fearful  of  extending  Jewish  law  to  cre- 
ate  a  better  meshing  of  personal  needs  with  traditional  dictates. 
This  does  not  mean  that  the  Halakhah  must  legitimate  itself  by 
simply  saying  yes  to  all  its  claimants.  It  does  mean  that  in  moving 
toward  a  more  realistic  position,  its  negative  value-judgments  also 
will  be  taken  seriously.  By  moving  in  these  directions,  we  will  not 
be  compromising  the  Halakhah.  The  rabbis  took  the  goals  and 
ideals  of  the  Torah  as  their  starting  points  and  showed  how  to 
strive  for  the  ideal  in  a  real  life  with  all  its  conflicting  claims.  By 
opening  its  stance  on  abortion,  traditional  Judaism  could  go  on  to 
develop  new  roles  and  responsibilities  for  itself  today. 

One  such  responsibility  could  be  to  support  research  on  earlier 
and  self-implemented  methods  of  pregnancy  detection.  If  modern 
science  has  been  able  to  develop  the  pill  (which  is  halakhically 
permissible  despite  the  fact  that  it  circumvents  the  goal  of  procrea- 
tion),  then  it  is  presumably  capable  also  of  developing  the  morning- 
after  detection  and  antidote  kit.  It  goes  without  saying  that  the 
halakhic  Community  should  investigate  and  develop  better  methods 
of  contraception  and  wider  education  on  birth  control. 

Some  additional  responsibilities  could  be  the  establishment  of 
adoption  agencies,  continued  vigilance  and  monitoring  of  the  effects 
of  legal  abortion  to  prevent  abuses,  greater  communal  sharing  of 


( 


tion,  and  more  mature  responsibility-  tor  one's  sex  life. 

The  halakhic  stance  must  not  become  simply  a  matter  of  Opposi- 
tion to  abortion,  with  grudging  exceptions  granted  in  particular 
cases.  Rather,  the  emphasis  should  be  that  alternatives  to  abortion 
are  available,  but  that  reasons  for  having  children  are  far  more 
compelling.  To  wit:  every  child,  who  is  special  and  unique,  has  the 
right  to  a  life  of  love  and  care.  Children  also  return  love  and  care; 
they  are  precious  and  not  creatures  who  get  in  the  way.  In  these 
parlous  times,  when  children  often  are  regarded  as  nuisances  or 
hindrances  to  self-fulfillment,  these  basic  truths  ought  to  be 
stressed. 

A  Jewish  theology  of  abortion  should  postulate  that  the  Jewish 
people  need  to  increase  their  birth  rate  and  replenish  themselves 
after  Auschwitz,  even  as  we  seriously  attend  to  the  general  ques- 
tion  of  World  overpopulation;  what  is  good  for  the  rest  of  the 
World  is  not  always  good  for  the  Jews.  Although  one  does  not  have 
a  child  for  the  sake  of  history,  many  Jews  of  this  generation  have 
understood  instinctively  that  creating  life  is  the  only  real  response 
one  can  make  after  death. ^  These  ideas  cannot  be  coerced;  rather, 
they  must  be  set  forth  as  valid  and  desirable  options,  competing  in 
a  Society  where  the  opposite  messages  are  currently  more  populär. 

What  effect  would  all  this  have  upon  the  Halakhah  itself?  It 
well  may  lead  to  an  extension  of  the  halakhic  ambits,  from  a  stress 
on  proper  observance  of  rituals  to  a  stress  on  proper  ethical,  social, 
and  sexual  decision  making.  As  Jews  we  have  always  believed  in 
an  ethical,  judicial  System  that  governs  every  aspect  of  life.  There 
is  a  great  need  today  to  reinstate  that  capacity  in  areas  of  ethics 
and  morality.  This  may  encourage  more  Jews — even  those  who  con- 
sider  themselves  observant  of  Jewish  law — to  take  the  Halakhah 
seriously  as  a  moral  force  in  their  lives. 

Abortion  is  really  a  Symptom  of  a  larger  problem.  Ours  is  a 
Society  that  establishes  the  value  of  goods  over  relationships,  pos- 
sessions  over  people,  ease  and  comfort  over  labor  and  giving.  As 
creatures  of  modemism,  we  tend  to  see  our  daily  existence  as  of 
cosmic  importance  while  losing  sight  of  our  real  consequence  in 
the  course  of  human  civilization.  We  try  to  hide  these  truths  of 
human  existence  with  pills,  material  goods,  diversions  of  every 


ON    WOMEN     AND     JUDAISM 


154 


sort.  Even  sexual  ecstasy  becomes  a  cover  for  real  relationships. 
The  imbalance  in  our  society  is  too  obvious  to  miss.  As  a  result, 
contemporary  society  borders  on  the  selfish.  And  Jews  are  no  bet- 
ter than  any  other  group  in  this  respect. 

The  present  clamor  for  abortion  is,  in  part,  an  overreaction  to 
the  past,  to  the  way  women  feel  about  their  roles  in  society,  their 
constriction  of  options  other  than  motherhood,  their  dependency, 
their  powerlessness.  The  ultimate  expression  of  this  feeling  is  the 
notion  that  many  feminists  have  made  central  to  their  claims  for 
abortion — the  right  to  control  their  own  bodies.  This,  to  my  mind, 
is  too  narrow  a  focus  when  considering  the  miracle  of  life  creation. 
Furthermore,  such  an  attitude  releases  men  from  their  responsibil- 
ity,  thereby  reinforcing  the  sexist  modeis  that  it  seeks  to  under- 
mine.  Moral  theologians  ought  to  attend  to  the  climate  of  disabili- 
ties  and  inequities  regarding  women — in  the  larger  society  and  in 
the  Jewish  Community — so  that  the  Situation  will  not  foment  into 
a  final  crisis,  with  rejection  of  childbirth  and  child  rearing  as  the 
expressions  of  dissatisfaction. 

Hand  in  band  with  the  greater  halakhic  responsibility  and  flexi- 
bility  regarding  abortion  should  be  also  a  critique  of  the  society 
that  currently  reduces  human  concerns  to  such  issues.  Along  with 
this  must  come  some  moral  guidance  on  how  a  whole  society  can  / 
begin  to  integrate  those  values  that  have  at  their  center  reverence 
for  life  itself . 


NOTES 


1.  Rabbinical  Council  of  America,  "Statement  on  Abortion/'  1972. 

2.  The  most  comprehensive  treatment  of  the  subject  in  English  is  David 
M.  Feldman,  Marital  Relations,  Birth  Control,  and  Abortion  in  Jewish  Law 
(New  York:  Schocken,  1974).  See  also  J.  David  Bleich,  "Abortion  in  Halakhic 
Literature,"  and  Fred  Rosner,  "The  Jewish  Attitude  toward  Abortion,"  Tradi- 
tion 10  (Winter  1968). 

3.  One  exception  to  this  is  the  decision  by  Rabbi  Saul  Yisraeli,  who 
ruled  that  in  Thalidomide  cases  abortion  is  a  favor  to  the  potential  child 
as  much  as  a  relief  for  the  mother's  anguish.  From  Responsa  Amud  Ha- 
yemini,  no.  32  (1966),  as  quoted  in  Feldman,  Marital  Relations,  p.  292,  n.  134. 


The  Issue  of  Abortion 


155 


4.  See  Feldman,  Marital  Relations,  chs.  14-15. 

5.  Ibid.,  pp.  284-94. 

6.  That  mitzvot  were  commanded  for  people  to  live  by  and  not  to  die  by. 
Classically,  this  biblical  phrase  has  had  a  limited  legal  application;  still,  the 
principle  is  a  powerful  one  and^  although  not  explicitly  stated,  underlies 
many  halakhic  decisions. 

7.  Irving  Greenberg,  "Cloud  of  Smoke,  Pillar  of  Fire,"  in  Auschwitz: 
Beginning  of  a  New  Era?,  ed.  Eva  Fleischner  (New  York:  Ktav,  1977). 


/     > 


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i/My'^(:>  ^/^Ar//7//  ^c^c 


Maiizv€s 


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/- 


THE  LIBRARY  OF  JEWI5H  LAW  AND  ETHICS 

VOLUME  VI 
Edited  BY  Norman  Lamm 

President  and  Jakob  and  Erna  Michael  professor  of  Jewish  philosophy 

Yeshiva  Universily 


Hi/^       OXovOvi^      Ücrvu^t^^       h^^lUA-Sa  .     cix^  (y/' i^re^ 


Jewish  Woman 


in 


Jewish  Law 


hy 

Moshe  Meiselman 


KTAV  PUBLISHING  HOUSE,  Inc./New  York 
YESHIVA  UNIVERSITY  PRESS/New  York 


1978 


4, 


(. 


I 


!  I 


The  Source  of  Jewish  Values 


The  Story  of  creation,  as  viewed  by  Jewish  tradition,  establishes 
God  not  only  as  the  One  who  brought  the  physical  universe 
into  being,  but  also  as  the  source  of  moral  law.  The  Midrash 
teils  US  that  the  moral  and  physical  worlds  are  not  independent 
of  each  other.*  God  created  the  physical  universe  with  a  moral 
purpose.  Just  as  a  builder  does  not  build  randomly,  but 
proceeds  from  a  prearranged  plan  to  achieve  his  desired  end,  so 
God  had  a  plan  when  He  created  the  physical  universe.  Our 
tradition  teaches  that  the  moral  principles  of  the  Torah  were 
the  prearranged  plan  which  determined  the  patterns  of 
physical  creation.  The  laws  of  the  Torah,  tradition  continues, 
preceded  physical  creation.  To  realize  the  moral  end  of  crea- 
tion, man  was  fashioned  to  serve  as  that  being  who  would 
bring  moral  order  into  the  universe.  There  is,  hence,  no  con 
tradiction  between  the  laws  of  the  Torah  and  human  nature. 
The  God  of  nature  and  the  God  of  the  Torah  are  one.^ 

However,  the  relationship  between  the  physical  and  moral 
laws  is  of  a  more  profound  nature.  For  the  Jew,  the  very  notion 
of  a  creation  ex  nihilo  carries  with  it  an  inescapable  conclusion. 
That  is  to  say,  the  creation  of  the  universe  includes  the  creation 
of  the  rules  which  govern  the  universe.  The  physical  and  moral 
rules  that  govern  the  world  are  not  a  priori.  Both  were  brought 
into  existence  by  God  Himself,  both  represent  His  will,  and 
neither  is  justified  by  anything  other  than  His  will.  The  fun- 
damental laws  of  gravity,  for  instance,  are  themselves  a  crea- 
tion. In  the  words  of  the  Psalmist:  "He  has  given  a  law  [i.e.,  the 
laws  of  nature]  which  shall  not  be  transgressed"  (Ps.  148:5). 

The  fact  that  the  divine  will,  which  is  self-justifying,  lies  at 


s 


l 


^  Jeivish  Woman  in  Jeioish  Law 

thc  base  of  all  physical  law,  is  implicit  in  the  nature  of  scientific 
investigation.  When  a  scientist  asks  the  question  "why?/'  he  is 
doing  one  of  two  things.  Either  he  is  looking  for  the  principle 
underlying  a  specific  phenomenon  or  he  is  taking  a  specific 
principle  and  looking  for  an  even  more  basic  principle.  When 
Newton  saw  the  apple  drop  and  asked  "why?/'  he  was  looking 
for  the  underlying  principle  of  which  the  falling  apple  was  a 
specific  application.  His  quest,  of  course,  ended  with  the  dis- 
covery  of  the  laws  of  universal  gravitation.  When  a  contem- 
porary  physicist  contemplates  the  laws  of  gravity  and  asks 
"why?/'  he  is  searching  for  an  even  more  fundamental  law. 
However,  the  physical  world  offers  no  answers  to  the  ultimate 
why,  since  physical  laws,  ultimalely,  are  merely  an  expression 
of  the  divine  will.^ 

This  reasoning  applies  not  only  to  the  physical  world  but  to 
the  moral  world  as  well.  Creation  ex  nihilo  implies  to  the  Jew 
that  everything  is  derived,  finally,  from  the  divine  will.  The 
moral  law,  like  the  physical,  is  a  result  of  the  self-justifying 
divine  will.  Physical  creation  occurred  subsequent  to  the  cs- 
tablishment  of  the  moral  code  and  was  accomplished  in  confor- 
mity  with  its  goals  and  principles. 

While  the  divine  will  is  sufficient  in  the  area  of  physical 
law,  the  establishing  of  the  moral  code  is  more  complcx. 
Physical  law  is  forced  upon  us  by  Cod.  Creation,  by  definition, 
establishes  God  as  the  source  of  physical  law,  but  we  are  given 
freedom  in  moral  decisions. 

In  the  moral  sphere,  God  is  the  source  of  ethics  for  three 
reasons.  First  and  most  basic,  because  God  is  omnipotent  and 
has  prescribed  serious  punishmcnt  for  those  who  transgress 
His  will  and  bountiful  reward  for  those  who  fulfill  it.  To  the 
imperatives  'Thou  shalt"  and  "Thou  shalt  not,"  weak,  finite, 
earth-ridden  man  can  only  submit  in  dutiful  obedience.  Indeed, 
for  many  people  reward  and  punishment  provide  thc  sole 
motivation  for  adhering  to  the  moral  law. 

However,  the  tradition  has  always  spoken  disparagingly  of 


n! 


^ 


The  Source  of  Jewish  Values  5 

those  who  do  not  move  beyond  this  stage  to  higher  Icvels  of 
Service.*  The  tradition  makes  no  distinction  among  those  who 
utilize  the  Torah  for  their  own  ends-whether  financial  reward, 
ego  satisfaction,  or  spiritual  reward.  God  must  be  served  and 
His  will  followed  for  the  intrinsic  value  of  God's  word. 

The  compelling  nature  of  God's  word  is  derived  from  th( 
two  concepts  of  yirat  ha-romemut  and  ahavat  ha-shem.  Man'e 
awareness  of  God's  overwhelming  otherness,  of  His  infinite 
wisdom  and  power,  and  of  his  own  limited  and  finite  nature 
lies  at  the  basis  of  the  proper  attitude  toward  God.  This  awe  ol 
transcendence— i//rflf  ha-romemut— \tse\f  compels  obedience 
and  Submission  to  the  divine  will.  However,  Judaism  proceed^ 
beyond  yirat  ha-romemut  to  ahavat  ha-shem,  love  of  God.  Th( 
basic  concept  which  underlies  ahavat  ha-shem  is  the  experienct 
of  God  as  the  ultimate  source  of  all  value  and  worth— as  H( 
who  is  valuable  beyond  all  conceiving.  These  two  concepts- 
yirat  ha-romemut,  awe  of  transcendence,  and  ahavat  ha-shem 
love  of  God— which  arises  out  of  the  experience  of  God  as  ab 
solute  value— establish  the  basis  of  the  moral  law. 

The  Shema,  the  fundamental  Statement  of  Jewish  belief,  ex 
presses  this  idea  clearly.  It  begins  with  the  Statement,  "Hea 
[more  accurately,  "Understand"],  O  Israel,  the  Lord  is  our  God 
the  Lord  is  [the  only]  one"  (Deut.  6:2).  The  Statement  of  unit 
is  interpreted  by  the  Talmud*  and  Midrash**  as  referring  t. 
God's  total  uniqueness  and  otherness.  This  uniqueness  an. 
otherness  provide  the  basis  for  yirat  ha-romemut,  awe  o 
transcendence.  The  Shema  then  proceeds  to  the  love  of  God 
"And  thou  shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God  with  all  thy  heart  an 
with  all  thy  soul  and  with  all  thy  might."  It  is  only  from  thi 
point  that  the  subsequent  verses  can  and  do  proceed  to  discus 

the  moral  law/ 

The  fundamental  place  in  religious  morality  occupied  b 
the  perception  of  God  as  the  source  of  absolute  value  was  als 
recognized  by  the  famous  German  theologian,  Rudolf  Ottc 
who  wrote; 


s 


0 


Innhli  Wonuin  in  Icwitih  I  mo 


The  Source  of  Jewish  Values 


ll  is  iu)l  llul  ihe  »iwc  of  holiness  is  ilsclf  siniply  "ftMi "  in  f»uf  i)f 
wluU  is  absolutely  ovcrpowering,  beforc  which  therc  is  no  alter- 
native to  blind  awe-struck  obedience.  "You  alone  are  holy"  is 
rather  a  paean  of  praise  which  so  far  from  being  a  faUering  con- 
fession  of  the  divine  supremacy,  recognizes  and  extols  a  vahie, 
precious  beyond  all  conceiving.  The  object  of  such  praise  is  not 
simply  absolute  might  making  its  claims  and  compelling  their 
fulfillment,  but  a  might  that  has  at  the  same  time  the  supremest 
right  to  make  the  highest  claim  to  Service  and  receives  praise 
because  it  is  in  an  absolute  sense  worthy  to  be  praised/ 

The  distance  between  man  and  God  is  not  only  in  might,  or 
in  wisdom,  but  also  in  value.  God  is  ultimate  value,  and  man's 
life  acquires  value  only  through  his  relationship  w^ith  God. 
This  concept  lends  true  ultimacy  to  the  religious  moral  life. 
Man  achieves  value  in  his  life  only  by  surrendering  his  in- 
dependent  claims  to  value  and  realizing  his  unique  and  special 
relationship  to  the  source  of  all  value. 

Judaism  categorically  rejects  Kant's  use  of  man's  reason  as 
the  source  of  ethics.  Kant  regarded  man's  rationality,  and  that 
alone,  as  the  source  of  ethics,  but  to  Judaism  man  cannot  be  the 
source  of  ultimate  value.  Man  acquires  ultimate  value  only 
because  on  the  sixth  day  of  creation  he  was  created  in  the  image 
of  God.  The  Midrash  elaborates  upon  this  theme  by  declaring 
that  man  was  created  in  the  image  of  a  monkey  as  well  as  in  the 
image  of  God,  and  thus  if  man  were  to  reject  his  godly  image, 
he  would  be  left  with  nothing  but  the  image  of  a  monkey.'' 

Judaism  also  unequivocally  rejects  the  basic  axiom  of 
humanistic  and  much  liberal  thinking  that  man  per  se  is  the 
source  of  value.  We  read  in  Leviticus:  "If  anyone  sins  and 
rebels  against  the  Lord  and  deals  falsely  with  his  neighbor  ..." 
(Lev.  5:21).  The  Tosefta  comments  on  the  order  of  the  phrascs 
in  this  verse:  "No  man  deals  falsely  with  his  neighbor  unless  he 
first  rebels  against  God."^°  Since  belief  in  God  is  the  basis  of  all 
morality,  the  rejection  of  morality  is  ultimately  based  on  the  re- 
jection  of  God. 


\ 


I 

) 


■  '}• 


The  Talmud  sees  a  similar  idea  in  the  order  of  the  Ten 
Commandments."  The  first  commandment  is:  "I  am  the  Lord, 
your  God"  (Exod.  20:2).  This  provides  a  basis  for  the  subse- 
quent  universal  commands  of  human  morality.  Man  himself 
cannot  be  the  source  of  morality. 

Every  ethical  System  addresses  itself,  explicitly  or  implicit- 
ly,  to  the  question  of  the  source  of  value.  Any  compelling 
ethical  motivation,  even  in  the  area  of  interhuman  relations,  is 
built  on  the  assumption  that  human  life  possesses  some  intrin- 
sic  value;  Judaism  sees  this  value  exclusively  in  man's 
relationship  to  God.  Schweitzer  found  the  source  of  value  in 
the  concept  of  life,  others  found  it  in  the  human  being  himself, 
still  others  in  the  concept  of  human  society,  but  Judaism  found 
it  in  God.  Since  God  is  the  sole  source  of  value.  He  is  the  sole 
arbiter  of  moral  action. 

The  fundamental  Statement  of  Jewish  monotheism,  "Hear, 
O  Israel,  the  Lord  is  our  God,  the  Lord  is  fthe  only]  one"  (Deut. 
6:2),  is  much  more  than  a  rejection  of  polytheism  or  of  a 
trinitarian  understanding  of  God.  It  affirms  that  no  power  in 
the  World,  physical  or  moral,  coexists  with  God.  Thus,  there 
can  be  no  axiological  absolutization  of  anything  but  God 
Himself.  To  set  up  man,  the  State,  or  any  concept  as  a  moral  ab- 
solute is  a  total  violation  of  the  command  "the  Lord  is  [the 
only]  one." 

Thus,  in  the  realm  of  the  moral  law  also,  the  question 
"why?,"  is  not  the  essential  question.  Since  the  essence  of 
moral  imperative  is  the  divine  will,  with  its  own  intrinsic 
justification,  beyond  that  there  is  no  why.  The  moral  why,  like 
the  physical  why,  is  nothing  but  a  search  for  the  underlying 
principles  of  divine  will.  He  who  is  the  source  of  our  physical 
reality  is  the  source  of  our  sense  of  value. 

The  physical-divine  will  followed  the  moral-divine  will 
chronologically.  The  physical  world  came  into  being  as  the 
place  where  the  moral  divine  will  would  be  realized.  Physical 
creation  was  not  accomplished  in  an  amoral  context  but  rather 


s 


8 


Jewish  Woman  in  Jewish  Law 


in  the  context  of  the  moral  divine  will.  Physical  creation  had  a 
direction  and  a  moral  purpose;  that  is  why  the  Midrash 
declares  that  creation  found  its  fulfillment  in  the  revelation  at 
Sinai. *^ 

It  will  be  useful  to  summarize  our  discussion  at  this  point. 
The  Jew's  motivation  for  serving  God  is  threefold.  At  its 
simplest,  it  is  merely  fear  of  retribution  and  anticipation  of 
reward.  The  next  level  is  an  awed  awareness  of  God's 
overwhelming  otherness.  The  highest  level  is  the  realization 
and  acceptance  of  God  as  the  ultimate  source  of  all  value  and 
worth,  i.e.,  love  of  God.  The  Talmud  ascribes  the  steps  from 
the  first  and  second  levels  to  the  third  to  Abraham.'^  It  points 
out  that  he  was  the  first  person  to  understand  that  God  is  to  bc 
worshipped  not  only  as  the  suprcme  power,  the  unification  of 
the  entire  pagan  pantheon  into  one  being,  but  also  as  an  adon, 
or  master,  who  has  the  ultimate  righl  to  make  demands  of  man. 
That  is  why  Abraham  is  held  up  as  the  exemplar  of  love  of 
God. 


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} 


Creation  of  Woman 


In  Genesis  we  read  of  the  dual  quality  of  the  creation  of  man. 
As  a  purely  physical  being,  man  was  created  from  the  dust,  as 
were  all  the  other  animals.  But  man  was  elevated  above  the 
other  animals  and  endowed  at  creation  with  a  divine  spark. 
This  divine  essence,  referred  to  by  the  Bible  as  zelem  elokim/ 
man's  divine  image,  or  nishmat  ruah  hayim,^  the  breath  of  the 
spirit  of  life,  defines  man's  spiritual  nature  and  gives  ultimate 
value  to  his  life. 

The  creation  of  woman  also  reflects  the  duality  of  human 
existence.  The  Bible  records  together  the  creation  of  woman 
and  the  creation  of  man  in  the  image  of  God:  "And  God  created 
man  [the  human  being]  in  His  image,  in  the  image  of  God  did 
He  create  him  [the  human  being],  male  and  female  He  created 
them''  (Gen.  1:27).  A  distinction  is  drawn,  though,  with  regard 
to  the  physical  creation  of  woman.  She  was  not  created  from 
dust,  as  was  man  and  as  were  all  the  other  animals,  but  rather 
from  the  body  of  man.  The  reason  for  this,  we  shall  see,  was  to 
establish  the  proper  framework  for  marriage. 

The  Talmud  gives  us  a  second  interpretation  of  the  se- 
quence  of  verses  relating  to  the  creation  of  woman. ^  It  suggests 
that  the  first  person  was  a  self-sufficient  androgynous  being. 
Thus,  the  verse  in  Genesis  teils  us:  "Male  and  female  He 
created  them,"  i.e.,  the  first  human  being  was  both  male  and 
female.  God,  however,  said  that  it  is  not  good  for  a  human  be- 
ing to  be  totally  self-sufficient  and  devoted  only  to  himself ,  and 
therefore  He  divided  this  person  into  two  separate  human  be- 
ings,  one  male  and  one  female,  each  with  his  own  individual 
talents  and  personality.  Either  one,  alone,  is  incomplete.  The 


s 


10 


Jewish  Woman  in  Jewish  Law 


Creation  of  Woman 


11 


completion  and  perfection  of  the  human  personality  occurs 
wlien  man  and  woman  live  for  each  other,  give  to  each  other, 
and  Function  together  as  one  unit,  each  performing  his  and  her 
own  unique  tasks. 

In  explaining  the  nature  of  creation,  the  Raavad  comments: 

It  is  for  this  reason  that  God  saw  fit  to  change  the  ordcr  of 
creation  when  He  came  to  man.  For  had  He  created  man  and 
^  woman  from  the  earth,  each  independently,  each  would  havc 

gone  his  own  way.  Husband  and  wifc  would  not  be  designated 
>  one  for  the  other  to  live  together,  for  they  would  havc  been 
created  separately.  Rather,  God  created  woman  from  man  so 
that  they  should  live  together  as  one  unit,  each  one  needing  the 
other.* 

Marriage  is  man's  natural  State.  All  human  beings  are 
necessarily  incomplete  without  a  mate,  and  it  is  through  mar- 
riage that  completion  is  achieved.  Marriage  and  family  are  in- 
tegral parts  of  the  divine  plan.  They  are  not  arbitrary  and  un- 
natural institutions  created  by  society,  but  rather  reflect  an  im- 
portant  aspect  of  human  nature.  The  biblical  verse  describing 
marriage,  "Therefore  shall  a  man  leave  his  father  and  his 
mother  and  cleave  unto  his  wife  and  they  shall  be  one  flesh" 
(Gen.  2:24),  follows  immediately  upon  the  creation  of  Eve.  It  is 
a  natural  consequence  of  the  manner  of  creation. 

The  Raavad  continues  that  the  manner  of  creation  not  only 
makes  marriage  the  natural  State  of  man,  but  also  defines  the 
proper  relationship  within  marriage.  The  basic  attitude  of 
marital  partners  to  each  other  must  be  one  of  hesed.  Hesed  is 
that  character  trait  which  Judaism  feit  must  underlie  all  in- 
terpersonal relationships.  It  is  the  basis  of  all  Jewish  ethics. 
Hesed  is  the  ability  to  give  to  another  out  of  a  sense  of  closeness 
and  identification  with  that  other's  needs.  One  who  gives  out 
of  hesed  does  so  because  the  other's  need  is  as  real  to  him  as  his 
own.  The  story  of  creation,  the  Raavad  continues,  teils  man 
that  the  ideal  marriage  is  the  one  in  which  he  treats  his  wife  as 


1 


'f 


1 

i 


i 


he  would  himself,  because,  in  a  very  real  sense,  she  is  a  part  of 
him.*  Hence,  Jewish  law  requires  a  man  to  be  as  concerned 
about  his  wife  as  he  would  be  about  himself.  The  marriage 
relationship  is  the  paradigm  of  hesed,  for  in  marriage  one  is 
continually  required  to  focus  on  another  and  to  be  as  sensitive 
to  the  other's  needs  as  one  would  be  to  one's  own. 

The  Bible's  role  definition  for  woman  follows  upon  the 
Story  of  creation:  "And  Adam  called  his  wife  Eve,  for  she  was 
the  mother  of  all  life"  (Gen.  3:20).  In  the  Bible,  the  assigning  of 
a  name  is  not  only  the  giving  of  an  arbitrary  title  but  is  also  an 
essential  part  of  role  definition.  To  give  Eve  the  name  "mother 
of  all  life"  is  to  assign  her  that  task  as  her  fundamental,  though 
not  necessarily  exclusive,  role.* 

The  Midrash  states  that  this  role  definition  results  from  the 
nature  of  creation.*  Implicit  in  woman's  creation  was  a  com- 
mand  that  she  develop  a  specific  trait  of  the  human  personality 
to  its  maximum— the  capacity  for  tzniut.'^ 

The  root  VU,  zena,  occurs  twice  in  the  Bible,  once  in  the 
verse  HDDn  D'^VllX  nsi  ve'et  znuim  hokmah  "Those  who  are 
private  [in  their  Torah  learning]  will  achieve  wisdom"  (Prov. 
11:2),  and  once  in  the  verse,  "He  has  told  you,  man,  what  is 
good  and  what  the  Lord  demands  from  you,  but  to  do  justice, 
love  kindness,  and  to  walk  privately  with  your  God"  (Mic. 
6:8).  When  anyone,  male  or  female,  serves  God,  he  must  con- 
centrate  on  the  inner  dimensions  of  his  personality.  Tzriiut  is 


*It  should  be  observed  that  man's  naming  of  woman  in  Genesis  2:23  and 
later  in  Genesis  3:20,  is  unlike  his  naming  of  the  beasts.  Whereas  man's  im- 
position  of  names  upon  the  beasts  asserts  his  cognitive  superiority  and 
physical  mastery  over  them,  in  Eve's  case  his  name  acknowledges  Cod's  will 
acting  independently  of  and  prior  to  his  own.  The  assignment  of  the  name 
ishah  in  Genesis  2:23  is  subsequent  to  God's  Statement  in  Genesis  2:20.  The 
name  Eve  is  given  only  after  God  has  given  a  second  role  assignment  in 
Genesis  3:16,  as  a  resiilt  of  the  initial  sin  of  Adam  and  Eve.  This  point  is 
overlooked  by  Mary  Daley  in  Beyonä  God  the  Father,  Boston,  Beacon  Press, 
1973. 


} 


S 


12 


Jewish  Woman  in  Jewish  Law 


the  inner-directed  aspect  of  striving,  the  essence  of  the  Jewish 
heroic  act.  Woman  was  enjoined  to  develop  this  trait  of  pcr- 
sonality  to  its  highest  degree.  This  is  symbohzed  by  the  fact 
that  woman  was  created  from  a  part  of  the  body  which  is 
private  in  two  senses-first,  it  is  generally  clothed,  and  second, 
it  is  located  beneath  the  skin. 

But  in  the  Jewish  context,  hidden  from  pubHc  view  does  not 
imply  inferiority.  For  instance,  in  Genesis,  when  the  angels 
Visit  Abraham,  they  ask  him:  "VVhere  is  Sarah,  your  wife?" 
Abraham  answers:  'Tn  the  tent"  (Gen.  18:9),  to  which  Rashi 
cites  the  comment  of  the  rabbis:  «"»n  nvi^:^,  znuah  hee,  "Sarah  is 
a  private  person."  Yet  we  find  that  Sarah  achieved  greater 
Spiritual  stature  than  Abraham.  A  few  chapters  later  we  read 
that  God  instructed  Abraham:  "All  that  Sarah  teils  you, 
hearken  to  her  voice"  (Gen.  21:12),  to  which  Rashi  comments: 
"This  teaches  us  that  Sarah  was  superior  to  Abraham  in 
prophecy."  Although  in  their  life  together  Abraham  took  the 
public  role,  this  implies  absolutely  nothing  about  personal  im- 
portance  or  spiritual  greatness,  for  the  Jewish  hero  is  the  hero 
of  the  inner  stage,  not  the  public  stage. 

Tzniut  is  not  restricted  to  women.  The  high  points  in  the 
lives  of  the  major  male  figures  of  the  Bible  occurred  in  private. 
This  is  made  most  explicit  in  the  story  of  Jacob's  fight  with  the 
angel. 

Atid  Jacob  was  left  by  himself  and  a  man  fought  with  him  until 
dawn.  And  he  saw  that  he  could  not  defeat  him  and  he  smote 
him  on  his  hip.  And  Jacob's  hip  was  dislodged  while  fighting 
with  him.  And  he  [the  man]  said:  "Send  me,  for  the  dawn  is 
rising,"  and  he  [Jacob]  said:  "I  will  not  send  you  unless  you 
bless  me.  .  .  ."  And  he  said:  "No  longer  shall  you  be  calied 
Jacob,  but  Israel,  for  you  have  fought  with  God  and  with  men 
and  have  emerged  victorious."  [Gen.  32:25-29] 

The  last  verse  is  very  puzzling.  What  does  it  mean  to  fight  with 
God?  Onkelos  offers  a  different  translation:  "For  you  have 
fought  before  God  and  against  men."  The  name  Israel,  ac- 


* 


^i 


Creatton  of  Woman 


13 


cording  to  his  translation,  indicates  before  whom  one  acts  and 
to  which  audience  one  attaches  significance.  It  teils  us  that 
Jacob's  struggles  were  performed  only  for  the  sake  of  God  and 
not  for  the  sake  of  any  human  audience. 

This  idea  is  implicit  throughout  the  Bible.  When  Abraham 
and  Isaac  reached  the  high  point  of  their  moral  lives  in  the 
episode  of  the  Akedah,  they  did  so  in  front  of  no  audience  but 
the  Almighty  Himself.  They  had  been  accompanied  on  their'. 
journey  by  Ishmael  and  Eliezer,  but  upon  approaching  the 
mountain,  Abraham  told  his  servants:  "You  stay  here  .  .  .  the. 
lad  and  I  must  go  on  .  . .  "  (Gen.  22:8). 

When  Joseph  withstood  the  temptations  of  Potiphar's  wife, 
the  high  point  of  his  moral  life,  we  read:  "And  no  memberpf 
the  household  was  there  in  the  house"  (Gen.  39:11).  WhenVh?" 
high  priest,  on  Yom  Kippur,  entered  the  Holy  of  Holies,  we* 
read:  "And  no  man  may  be  in  the  Tent  of  Assembly  from  wlfen 
he  comes  to  atone  in  the  Holy  Place  until  he  leaves"  (Lev 
16:17). 

How  different  they  are  from  Greek  heroes!  Perhaps  the 
clearest  example  is  the  contrast  between  the  Akedah  and  the 
Greek  tragedy  Iphigenia  in  Aulis.  While  Abraham  sacrificed 
Isaac  to  God,  for  God,  and  before  God  alone,  Agamemnon 
sacrificed  Iphegenia  for  Greece  and  in  the  presence  of  Greece. 
The  essence  of  the  Greek  heroic  act  lay  in  its  public  appeal  and 
public  nature.  There  was  no  glorification  of  inner  heroism,  but 
only  of  public  display  and  public  approval. 

Far  from  the  shores  of  Aulis  was  the  Jewish  hero.  To  the 
Jew,  moral  victory  for  both  man  and  woman  is  what  one  does 
for  God  and  before  God,  the  source  of  all  value.  Jewish  tradi- 
tion  frowns  upon  public  display,  for  the  moment  a  human  acts 
in  public,  his  motivation  can  be  tainted  by  unworthy  con- 
siderations. 

R.  Yobanan  said:  "A  covenant  has  been  drawn  iip  that  he  who 
teils  in  his  Torah  study  in  private  does  not  quickly  forget,  as  it 
says:  'And  those  who  are  private  will  achieve  wisdom'  fProv 
ll:2l."' 


.  « 


',  '. 


\  ' 


.;t-  • 

WLlf.i  '^  »,' 


Vi  « 


s 


14 


Jewish  Woman  in  Jeioish  Law 


An  important  aspect  of  the  rcligious-moral  act  is  its  privacy, 
far  from  the  approval  of  the  crowd.  It  is  in  this  light  thaf  we 
understand  the  classic  Jewish  legend  that  the  world  is  main- 
^     tained  in  each  generation  through  the  merit  of  thirty-six  h  idden 
saintly  persons.  The  highest  achievement  is  that  of  the  hidden 
saintly  man  who  toils  his  whole  Ufe  for  God's  approval  alone. 
Thus,  the  verse  nn^lD  nVan  na  mi33  bo,  kol  kebudah  hat  ha- 
melekh  penimah,  "The  entire  glory  of  the  daughter  of  the  king 
hes  on  the  inside"  (Ps.  45:14),  is  absolutely  nonpejorative.  This 
verse,  which  underlies  much  of  the  Jewish  attitude  foward  the 
female  role,  has  been  used  in  rabbinic  Hterature  in  two  ways. 
First,  it  has  been  viewed  as  a  Statement  of  the  private  nature  of 
,    the  female  role,'  and  second,  as  a  panegyric  on  the  private 
I    nature  of  the  religious  experience  in  general.'»  The  Midrash 
unifies  the  two  interpretations  and  sees  the  same  underlying 
thread  running  through  both  applications  of  the  verse-true 
achievement  is  always  in  the  private  sphere,  hidden  from  the 
public  eye. 

"And  God  spoke  to  Moses  in  the  Wilderncss  of  Sinai." 
fNum.  1:11  Before  the  Tenl  of  Assembly  was  erected.  He  spoke 
to  him  from  the  bush  .  .  .  and  afterwards  in  the  iand  of  Egypt 
...  and  afterwards  in  Midian  ...  and  afterwards  at  Sinai 
but   after   the  Tent  was  erected   He  said:   "How  beauliful   is 
tznnü  fprivacy]!"  as  it  says:  "And  to  walk  privafely  wilh  yoiir 
Cod"  [Mic.  6:8],  and  therefore  He  spoke  with  him  in  the  Tent 
And  so  too  did  David  say:  "The  entire  glory  of  the  daughler  of 
tlie  king  lies  on  the  inside,  more  so  than  the  one  who  is  clothcd 
in  golden  garments"  fPs.  45:141.»  The  daughter  of  the  king  is 
Moses,  who  is  the  king  of  Torah.  The  one  clothed  in  gold  is 
Aaron  fthis  refers  to  the  eight  golden  garments  worn  by  the 
high  priestl.  Hence,  it  is  said  that  a  woman  who  is  private  in  her 


*The  King  James  translation  is:  "The  king's  daughter  is  all  glorious 
w.thm,  her  clothing  is  of  wrought  gold."  The  translation  in  the  text  accords 
with  the  midrashic  Interpretation. 


Creation  of  Woman 


15 


life  fand  hence  plays  Moses'  role  by  emphasizing  private 
religious  experience],  even  if  she  is  an  Israelite,  is  deserving  to 
marry  a  priest  and  give  birth  to  high  priests.f  This  is  what  the 
Holy  One  said:  "It  is  my  glory  to  speak  on  the  inside."" 

Aaron,  the  high  priest,  performed  his  divine  Service  publicly. 
Moses  spoke  to  God  in  private  and  thereby  achieved  a  higher 
religious  level.  In  the  spiritual  dimension,  public  exposure  is 
very  often  a  handicap  rather  than  an  asset. 

Public  and  private  are  necessary  aspects  of  the  lives  of  both 
men  and  women.  Neither  sex  is  restricted  to  either  area,  but 
tradition  did  say  that  the  private  sphere  should  be  the  domi- 
nant area  of  a  woman's  life.  However,  even  a  man,  whose 
primary  involvement  is  public,  was  reminded  that  his  highest 
achievements  are  the  acts  that  he  does  in  private. 


tThis  is  based  on  a  dual  interpretalion  of  the  above  verse  in  Psalms.  The 
first  one  translates  the  words  nwiaV  3m  mxatPOD  mi"mis/ibe?of  zahab  lehiislinh 
as  "more  so  than  he  .  .  .  ";  the  second  interprets  as  saying:  "her  garments  will 
be  the  priestly  golden  garments." 


s 


Family:  The  Focus  of  Jewish  Life 

The  family  is  the  basic  unit  of  society,  and  if  this  is  true  of 
Society  at  large,  it  is  certainly  true  in  Jewish  life.  Despite  opin- 
ions  to  the  contrary,  the  synagogue  is  not  the  focus  of  Judaism. 
The    Center    of    Jewish    life    has    been,    and    will    always 
be,  the  home.  The  collapse  of  traditional  Judaism  in  America 
followed  the  collapse  of  the  Jewish  home,  not  that  of  the  syn- 
agogue. The  synagogue  broke  down  in  the  mid-twentieth  Cen- 
tury because  the  traditional  family  had  been  secularized  several 
decades  earlier.  When  contemporary  critics  of  Judaism  claim 
that  the  synagogue  is  the  center  of  Jewish  life,  it  is  because  they 
have  tasted  only  the  most  insipid  and  sterile  forms  of  Jewish 
existence. 

The  Jewish  woman  is  the  creator,  molder,  and  guardian  of  ' 
he  Jewish  home.  The  family  has  always  been  the  unit  of 
Jewish  existence,  and  while  the  man  has  always  been  the  fami- 
ly s  public  representative,  the  woman  has  been  its  soul 

The  creation  of  a  Jewish  home  is  no  small  task.  It  requires 
much  niore  than  the  burdens  of  childbearing,  childrearing,  and 
menial  household  tasks,  for  to  create  a  Jewish  home  is  to  create 
a  new  link  in  the  chain  of  Jewish  existence  and  tradition  It  is 
not  easy  to  form  children  in  the  Jewish  mold  and  prepare  them 
to  become  Jewish  adults,  and  such  a  task  would  not  have  been 
primarily  assigned  to  women  had  they  not  been  especially 
prepared  for  it,  physically,  psychologically,  intellectually,  and 
spiritually,  by  Almighty  God  Himself.  Moreover,  the  raising  of 
Jewish  children  cannot  be  performed  simply  by  a  day-care 
center,  for  this  task  requires  a  unique  spiritual  being  on  a  high 

16 


Family:  The  Focus  of  Jewish  Life 


17 


spiritual  level.  "Hearken  my  son  to  the  discipline  of  your  fathcr 
and  do  not  forsake  theTorah  teachings  of  your  mother"  (Prov. 
1:8).  While  a  Jew  ideally  learns  Torah  discipline  primarily  from 
his  father,  he  learns  the  fundamental  concepts  and  principles  of 
Judaism  primarily  from  his  mother.  A  child  needs  both  parents, 
each  performing  a  specialized  individual  role.* 

A  primary  aspect  of  the  mother's  role  is  to  communicate  the 
fundamentals  of  Jewish  belief  and  practice  to  her  children.  She 
must  teach  her  children  to  know  God,  love  Him,  fear  Hirn,  and 
worship  Him,  and  she  must  bring  the  concepts  of  God  and  His 
Service  to  life  for  them.  The  vibrancy  of  these  concepts  gives 
the  Jewish  home  its  unique  power,  and  the  subsequent 
religious  life  of  every  Jew  is  dependent  on  the  success  of  this 
early  maternal  teaching. 

There  are  many  facets  to  homemaking.  Providing  for  the 
physical  needs  of  the  members  of  the  household  is  only  one 
part  of  a  Jewish  housewife's  work.  While  this  responsibility  is 
generally  a  necessary  component  of  her  job,  her  most  impor- 
tant  task  is  to  provide  the  religious  base  for  her  children  and 
the  proper  religious  environment  for  all  members  of  the 
household.  In  such  a  context,  even  the  physical  aspects  of 
homemaking  achieve  a  spiritual  dimension. 

Since  Jewish  tradition  viewed  the  maintenance  of  home  life 
as  critical,  both  husband  and  wife  were  expected  to  participate 
in  it.  Primary  responsibility  was  assigned  to  the  mother,  but  the 
father  was  expected  to  take,  and  did  take,  an  active  role  in  the 
religious  upbringing  of  the  children.  Judaism  has  always  con- 
demned  the  absentee  father  who  takes  little  or  no  part  in  the 
rearing  of  his  children. 

The  phrase  "Jewish  home"  has  suffered  much  in  recent 
literature.  It  has  been  stereotyped  and  maligned  to  such  a 
degree  that  most  people  are  ashamed  of  the  Jewish  mother  and 


*These  two  tasks  mesh  together  and  each  partner  must  participate  with 
the  other's  work.  We  are  talking  only  of  primary  responsibility. 


18 


Jewish  Woman  in  Jewish  Uno 


the  Jewish  home.  But  the  stereotype  is  false-"Jewish  home" 
does  not  connote  chopped  livcr  and  gefilte  fish!  The  Jewish 
home  is  a  unit  of  great  vitahty  whose  functioning  expresses  tlie 
divine  way  of  life  that  is  the  Torah.  The  principles  of  the  Torah 
are  not  mere  intellectual  abstractions;  they  must  be  brought 
to  life  in  the  Jewish  home.  The  Jewish  home  is  the  center  of  our 
existence;    it   is    the    place   where    sanctity   and    Torah    are 
translated  into  real  life,  where  children  are  imbued  with  the 
prmciples  of  Judaism  and  adults  live  in  accordance  with  the 
d.vine  will.  The  Jewish  home  is  not  merely  for  children,  but  for 
addtsas  well  The  Talmud  teils  ns  not  only  that  the  success  of 
K.  Yehoshua  ben  Hanania  was  due  to  his  mother,'  but  also  that 
the  success  of  R.  Akiva^  and  the  catastrophe  of  R.  Ela.ar  ben 
Arakh'  were  due  to  their  wives. 

The  Midrash  relates  a  most  indicative  and  telling  tale: 

It  is  told  that  a  pious  man  was  married  to  a  pious  woman  and 
they  were  childless.  They  said:  "Our  life  together  does  not 
benefit  the  Almighty  One/'  and  they  divorced.  He  married  a 
w.cked  woman  and  she  made  him  wicked.  She  married  a  wicked 
man  and  made  him  righteous.  h  follows  that  all  depends  on  the 
woman.* 

On  a  day-to-day  basis,  it  is  the  woman  who  provides  the 
general  home  atmosphere  that  will  determine  her  family's 
spintual  direction,  for  better  or  worse. 

The  Jewish  woman  is  the  soul  and  Inspiration  of  the  Jewish 
home^  Through  building  this  home  she  achieves  her  ultimate 
Jewish  self-definition.  and  the  stamp  she  leaves  on  the  home 
expresses  her  own  uniqueness  and  individuality. 


Bihlical  Women 


The  Jewish  people  have  always  treasured  the  stories  in  the 
Bible,  using  them  as  sources  of  examples  to  follow  in  their  own 
Hves.'  Biblical  figures  have  served  as  role  modeis  for  countless 
generations  of  Jews,  both  male  and  female.  The  biblical  heroine 
is  a  strong  woman  totally  involved  in  the  building  of  her  home 
and  her  people.  The  role  she  plays  is  crucial,  and  is  shown  to 
have  a  critical  influenae  on  the  future  and  nature  of  the  Jewish 
people. 

In  the  Story  of  Abraham  and  Sarah,  Abraham  is  obviously 
the  major  public  figure.  Sarah  is  kept  very  much  in  the 
background.  This  idea,  implicit  in  the  biblical  text,  is  made  ex- 
plicit  by  the  rabbis  in  their  comment  that  "Sarah  was  a  private 
person."^  However,  when  the  proper  environment  of 
Abraham's  home  was  threatened  by  Ishmael's  behavior,  and 
the  negative  influence  of  Ishmael  on  Isaac  threatened  Jewish 
survival,  Sarah  acted  quickly.  While  Abraham,  who  was  preoc- 
cupied  with  his  public  role,  lacked  the  proper  insight  into  the 
Situation,  Sarah  demanded:  "Drive  away  the  maid  servant 
[Hagar]  and  her  son"  (Gen.  21:10).  The  moral  implications  and 
the  daring  of  this  Statement  reveal  the  strong  role  that  Sarah 
played  in  Abraham's  home.  When  Abraham  hesitated,  the  Bi- 
ble  teils  US,  God  said  to  him:  "All  that  Sarah  teils  you,  listen  to 
her  voice  ..."  (Gen.  21:12).  God  Himself  upheld  the  morality 
and  correctness  of  Sarah's  demand. 

Sarah  was  not  motivated  by  hatred  of  Hagar  or  by  jealousy, 
for  if  this  had  been  the  case,  God  would  not  have  upheld  her. 
The  rabbis  teil  us   that  Sarah  was  upheld  because  she  had 

19 


\ 


20 


Jewish  Woman  in  Jeioish  Law 


achieved  a  higher  level  of  prophecy  than  Abraham.  Her 
Spiritual  insight  and  sensitivity  had  shown  her  the  dangers  for 
Isaac  created  by  IshmaeVs  presence  in  Abraham's  home.^ 

After  Sarah  passed  away,  we  are  told  very  httle  about 
Abraham's  activities.  Sarah's  role  coiild  not  be  taken  over  by 
Ketiirah.  The  children  of  Abraham  who  did  not  grow  up  in 
Sarah's  home,  under  her  guidance,  did  not  become  his  spiritiial 
heirs.  Abraham  had  eight  sons.  Only  Isaac,  born  of  the  ap- 
propriate  mother  and  educated  by  her,  was  fit  to  carry  on 
Abraham's  work. 

The  life  of  Rebecca  and  Isaac  is  a  striking  parallel  to  that  of 
Abraham  and  Sarah.  "And  Isaac  brought  her  to  the  tent  of 
Sarah,  his  mother"  (Gen.  24:67).  Rebecca  took  over  Sarah's 
role.  When  Isaac  lacked  the  necessary  insight  to  evaluate  Esau's 
triie  character,  Rebecca,  acting  in  a  morally  courageous  man- 
ner, preserved  the  future  of  the  Jewish  people.  In  this  instance, 
Isaac  himself  recognized  the  correctness  of  Rebecca's  actions. 

The  difficulties  facing  Leah  and  Rachel  were  of  a  different 
Order.  The  Bible  does  not  say  that  they  performed  actions  as 
dramatic  as  those  of  Sarah  and  Rebecca,  but  they  were  assigned 
a  more  difficult  task-that  of  creating  a  proper  environment  for 
Jacob  within  the  negative  atmosphere  of  Laban's  home.  The 
moral  difficulties  they  faced  were  of  a  day-to-day  nature,  biil 
the  two  women  were  successful-the  twelve  sons  of  Jacob  all 
remained  true  to  the  spiritual  calling  of  their  fathers,  becoming 
the  foundation  pillars  on  which  the  Jewish  nation  was  built. 

This  picture  of  women  possessing  the  moral  strength  and 
determination  necessary  for  the  formation  of  the  Jewish  people 
is  a  constant  theme  throughout  the  Bible  and  the  rabbinic  com- 
mentaries  to  the  Bible.  For  example,  at  a  critical  point  in  Jewish 
history,  it  was  the  moral  courage  of  the  midwives  that  saved 
the  nation.*  Again,  when  the  Jewish  men  were  overtaken  by 
despair  during  the  period  of  servitude  in  Egypt,  it  was  their 
wives  who  kept  the  hope  of  redemption  alive.^  Similarly,  when 
Amram  decried  the  frustration  of  bcaring  children  in  Egypt,  his 


Bihlical  Women 


21 


C 


daiighter  Miriam  prevailed  upon  him  not  to  destroy  the  Jewish 
people  out  of  overreaction  to  frustration.' 

Women  are  constantly  presented  as  figures  of  great  moral 
strength  during  periods  of  crisis.  On  the  fortieth  day  after 
Sinai,  the  male  population  panicked  at  Moses'  apparent  disap- 
pearance.  The  men  brought  catastrophe  upon  themselves  by 
making  the  golden  calf .  The  women,  on  the  other  band,  did  not 
panic  and  refused  to  participate  in  the  making  of  the  calf.' 
Later,  when  the  spies  reported  that  an  attempt  to  conquer  Ca- 
naan  would  result  in  disaster,  the  determination  of  the  men  col- 
lapsed  again  at  a  moment  of  crisis.  The  rabbis  teil  us,  however, 
that  the  faith  of  the  women  held  strong,  and  hence  the  women 
were  not  included  in  the  decree  sentencing  the  entire  generation 
of  the  exodus  to  die  in  the  wilderness.  • 

The  picture  of  the  Jewish  woman,  held  up  for  future 
generations,  is  uniform.  It  is  a  picture  of  moral  strength  and 
determination  that  survives  periods  of  crisis  and  provides  the 
foundation  upon  which  the  Jewish  home  can  be  built. 

Is  it  any  wonder  that  the  rabbis  said:  "Each  generation  is 
redeemed  because  of  the  righteous  women  of  that  genera- 
tion"?' The  women  have  given  the  Jewish  people  their  moral 
strength,  and  that  strength  enabled  the  Jews  of  each  generation 
to  survive  the  crises  they  faced. 


Torah  Knowledge  for  Woman 


w. 


Torah  Knowledge  for  Women 


All  authorities  agree  that  women  are  exempt  from  the  Obliga- 
tion to  learn  Torah.'  The  Mishnah  discusses  the  propriety  of 
teaching  Torah  to  women,  but  never  entertains  the  idea  that 
they  are  obligated  to  study.  However,  to  say  that  women  are 
not  required  to  involve  themselves  in  Torah  study,  while  cer- 
tainly  true,  oversimplifies  the  Situation. 
The  Mishnah  says: 

Ben  Azzai  said  that  a  man  must  teach  his  daughter  Torah.... 
R.  Eliezer  said  that  he  who  tcaches  his  daughter  Torah  is  con- 
sidered  as  if  he  had  taught  her  tiflut.' 

The  word  tiflut  has  been  interpreted  in  two  ways.  Most  have 
understood  it  to  mean  "trivial  and  irrelevant  things."^  This  in- 
terpretation  identifies  tiflut  with  the  root  tofel  as  found  in  the 
verse  "Can  that  which  is  tasteless  [tofel]  be  eaten  without 
sah?''  (Job  6:6).  An  alternative  Interpretation  of  tiflut  is  "im- 
morality." 

Maimonides,  who  adopts  the  first  Interpretation,  is  most 
explicit.  Certain  areas  of  study  are  intrinsically  esoteric  and  can 
be  understood,  even  on  a  minimal  level,  by  only  a  very  limited 
group.  Torah,  Maimonides  says,  is  not  so.  "It  is  accessible  to 
all,  young  and  old,  man  and  woman,  those  with  great  minds 
and  those  with  limited  ones."^  Torah  may  be  accessible  to  all  on 
their  own  level,  but  solid  accomplishment  on  any  level  requires 
complete  dedication  of  time  and  effort.  Since,  as  Maimonides 
says,*  women  are  not  generally  ready  to  dedicate  themselves 
completely  to  Torah  study,*  their  knowledge  will  necessarily  be 

34 


m 


superficial.  Given  such  superficial  knowledge,  a  woman  wi 
not  be  able  to  appreciate  the  depth  and  scope  of  Jewish  learnin 
and  will  come  to  consider  it  irrelevant  and  trivial,  i.e.,  tiflu, 

The  alternative  translation  of  tiflut  as  "immorality"  reasor 
in  a  similar  manner. '  Superficial  knowledge  can  easily  be  mi^ 
directed.  One  of  the  major  areas  of  Halakhah  where  one  relic 
on  a  woman's  judgment  is  that  of  f amily  purity.  A  woman  wh 
has  only  superficial  knowledge  in  this  area  may  make  halakhi 
decisions  that  involve  both  her  husband  and  herseif  in  a  vioL 
tion  of  these  very  important  laws. 

It  is  true  that  the  rabbis  approached  the  learning  of  Tora 
by  women  with  great  caution.  Superficial  knowledge  i 
dangerous  in  all  areas,  independently  of  whether  the  possessc 
of  the  knowledge  is  male  or  female,  and  it  is  especiall 
dangerous  in  so  crucial  and  complex  an  area  as  Torah.  Thus  th 
Talmud  asks:  "Who  is  an  evil,  sly  man?"«  Ulah  answered  "it  i 
one  who  studies  the  Bible  and  the  Mishnah,  but  has  not  learnc 
from  the  wise  men."  RashI  explains  that  he  who  has  m 
learned  sufficiently  to  acquire  a  deep  and  thorough  undei 
Standing  of  his  material  and  hence  will  not  know  how  to  appi 
his  knowledge  in  practice.  "R.  Elazar  said  that  such  a  person  i 
an  am  ha-aretz  .  .  .  .R,  Aha  bar  Yaakov  said  that  he  is 
sorcerer  [i.e.,  he  practices  sleight  of  band]."  Rashi  explains  th 
latter  by  saying  that  a  person  with  superficial  knowledge  wi 
utilize  his  knowledge  to  deceive  people.  In  the  same  contex, 
the  Talmud  says  in  the  same  passage:  "R.  Elazar  said:  'He  wh 
teaches  his  daughter  Torah  is  considered  as  if  he  had  taught  hc 
tiflut/" 

But  the  precautions  against  superficial  knowledge  wer 
balanced  by  another  series  of  considerations.  Whereas  th 
Torah  is  not  meant  to  be  only  an  intellectual  abstraction  but  i 
also  meant  to  be  realized  in  practice,  the  mitzvah  of  learnin; 
Torah  is  a  dual  one.'  On  its  most  basic  level,  it  is  derived  fror 
the  verse  "So  that  you  will  learn  them  and  you  will  observe  t. 
keep  them"  (Deut.  5:1).  One  must  study  so  that  he  will  be  abl 


36 


Jewish  Woman  in  JewisJi  Law 


to  perform.  "The  ignorant  cannot  be  fearful  of  sin,  nor  can 
they  be  pious/''°  The  law  is  exceedingly  complex,  and  only  one 
who  is  knowledgeable  can  be  truly  observant.  Anyone  who  is 
truly  motivated  to  observe  the  mitzvot  will  find  himself  equally 
motivated  to  study.  The  mitzvah  of  studying  Torah  extends  far 
beyond  the  practical,  however.  The  Torah  is  the  word  of  God 
and  hence  valuable  per  se.  All  areas  of  Torah  are  significant, 
for  they  are  all  expressive  of  the  divine  will,  whether  or  not 
they  are  relevant  in  practice."  Women  are  bound  by  the  first 
commandment  of  studying  Torah."  All  who  are  bound  to  do 
are  bound  to  know  and  understand  what  they  are  doing.  The 
Tosafot'^  derive  this  rule  from  the  verse  in  Deuteronomy,  "As- 
semble   the    people,    men,    women,    and    children,    and   your 
stranger  in  your  gates  so  that  they  will  hear  funderstand]  and 
so  that  they  will  learn  and  they  will  fear  the  Lord,  your  God, 
and  they  will  be  cautious  to  perform  all  the  words  of  this 
Torah"    (Deut.    31:12).    In    practice,    therefore,    women    are 
dutybound  to  learn  a  large  segment  of  the  Torah,  but  they  are 
not  required  to  dedicate  themselves  completely  to  a  total  in- 
volvement  in  all  aspects  of  the  word  of  God. 

The  learning  of  Torah  is  an  optional  activity  for  women  in- 
sofar  as  the  command  of  intellectual  involvement  per  se  is  con- 
cerned.  However,  if  a  woman  does  study  Torah,  she  has  a  mitz- 
vah, and  her  activity  falls  within  the  Talmud's  discussion  of 
the  optional  learning  of  Torah. 

R.  Meir  said:  "How  do  we  know  that  even  a  gentile  who  learns 
Torah  is  to  be  considered  on  a  par  with  the  high  priest?  It  is 
because  the  verse  in  Scripture  says:  'Which  a  person  should  do 
and  live  by  them'  [Lev.  18:5].  It  does  not  say  'priest'  or  'Levite' 
or  'Jew'  but  rather  person.  This  teaches  us  that  even  a  gentile 
who  learns  Torah  is  to  be  considered  on  the  same  level  as  a  high 
priest."  It  was  said  [of  R.  Meir's  Statement]  that  he  does  not 
receive  the  reward  of  the  obligated  one  but  rather  of  a  non- 
obligated  performer  [which  is  less],  for  R.  bianina  said:  "Greater 
is  the  reward  of  he  who  performs  out  of  Obligation  than  he  who 
performs  not  out  of  Obligation."'* 


I 


i 


Torah  Knowledge  for  Woman 


37 


The  learning  of  Torah  by  women  presents  a  paradox.  On  the 
one  band,  it  is  a  highly  meritorious  act.**  On  the  other,  it  is  an 
act  frowned  upon  by  R.  Eliezer  in  the  Mishnah.  Maimonides 
quotes  both  sides  of  the  paradox: 

A  woman  who  studies  Torah  is  rewarded,  but  not  to  the  same 
degree  as  is  a  man,  for  she  is  not  commanded  and  anyone  who 
does  that  which  he  is  not  commanded  to  do,  does  not  receive  the 
same  reward  as  one  who  is  commanded  but  a  lesser  reward. 
However,  even  though  she  is  rewarded,  the  sages  commanded  a 
man  not  to  teach  his  daughter  Torah.  This  is  because  women  are 
not  disposed  to  dedicate  themselves  to  study  and  will  turn  the 
words  of  Torah  into  foolish  words  according  to  their  limited  un- 
derstanding  [due  to  their  lack  of  interestj.  Our  sages  said  that 
anyone  who  teaches  his  daughter  Torah  is  to  be  considered  as  if 
he  had  taught  her  trivial  and  unimportant  things.'" 

The  above  phrase,  "the  sages  commanded  a  man  not  to 
teach  his  daughter,"  was  interpreted  by  R.  Hayim  Yosef  David 
Azulay  (d.  1806),  commonly  referred  to  as  Hidah,  as 
representing  a  practica]  warning  rather  than  a  legal 
Prohibition.*^  He  was  puzzled  by  the  fact  that  the  Talmud 
describes  positively  the  vast  scholarship  of  Beruriah,  the  wife 
of  R.  Meir  and  daughter  of  R.  Hananiah  ben  Teradion.'**  Had 
the  command  of  the  sages  been  a  legal  prohibition,  then  it 
would  apply  to  all  women  equally,  even  to  the  most  highly 
motivated  and  brilliant  women.  Hidah  therefore  concludes  that 
the  command  of  the  sages  is  a  warning  against  teaching  women 
who  are  not  sufficiently  motivated.  The  sages  recognized  the 
fact  that  women  were  not  involved  in  intellectual  pursuits  and 
cautioned  against  teaching  them.  This  was  not  given  the  form 
of  a  legal  prohibition  and  hence  allowed  motivated  women  to 
pursue  their  studies.  Furthermore,  it  also  allowed  for  a  shift  in 
attitude  due  to  a  change  in  the  general  orientation  of  women 
toward  intellectual  pursuits.  A  direct  implication  of  Hidah's 
view  would  be  that  in  contemporary  society,  where  women  are 
regularly  involved  in  serious  academic  pursuits,  they  may,  nay 


38 


Jewish  Woman  in  Jeioish  Law 


Tor  ah  Knowledge  for  Woman 


39 


should,  seriously  pursue  their  Torah  studies.  The  Talmud  teils 
US  that  during  the  reign  of  Hezekiah,  the  religious  and  scholar- 
ly  level  of  the  people  was  so  high  that  "they  searched  from  Dan 
to  Beer-Sheba  and  did  not  find  an  ignoramus,  from  Gevath  to 
Antiproth  and  could  not  find  a  young  boy  or  girL  man  or 
woman,  who  was  not  completely  conversant  with  the  detaiied 
laws  of  ritual  cleanliness."*'  At  times  when  motivation  is  high, 
the  Torah  is  accessible  to  all  alike,  male  and  female. 

The  paradox  is  resolved  in  a  different  manner  by  the  author 
of  the  Perishah^°  (d.  1640).  To  teach  Torah  to  women  is  forbid- 
den.  However,  if  they  demonstrate  their  motivation  by  study- 
ing  Torah  on  their  own,  and  thereby  show  that  they  consider  it 
to  be  a  serious  pursuit,  the  prohibition  is  removed.  Thus,  even 
though  he  seems  to  give  the  Statement  "The  sages  com- 
manded''  a  legal  interpretation,  he  allows  for  a  different  at- 
titude  when  we  are  confronted  by  a  Situation  which  clearly 
demonstrates  motivation.  One  does  not  impose  Torah 
knowledge  upon  women,  as  one  does  upon  men,  for  they  are 
not  required  to  study.  But  one  may  teach  Torah  to  a  woman 
who  demonstrates  the  proper  motivation., 

The  view  of  Hidah  and  of  the  author  of  the  Perishah  is 
echoed  in  the  responsa  of  R.  Yehudah  Aszod  (d.  1866),  who 
writes:  "We  do  not  find  anywhere  that  women  are  forbidden  to 
study/'^»  In  the  volume  of  responsa,  Maayan  Ganim,  the 
author  not  only  permits  motivated  women  to  study  the  Torah 
but  praises  them  and  urges  his  audience  to  encourage  them  in 
their  work." 

There  is  a  small  group  of  authorities  who  view  "the  com- 
mand  of  the  sages"  as  a  legal  prohibition."  However,  even 
these  scholars  concur  that  this  legal  prohibition  does  not  apply 
to  the  area  of  study  required  for  Performance.  Everyone  is  of 
the  opinion  that  such  study  is  obligatory.  The  vast  majori ty  of 
scholars,  on  the  other  band,  have  interpreted  "the  command  of 
the  sages"  as  a  caution  against  teaching  Torah  to  those  who  are 
not  ready  to  take  such  studies  seriously.  However,  at  all  times. 


ii 


') 


1 1 


I, 


even  for  these  authorities,  the  study  of  Torah  by  women  re- 
mains  an  optional  activity. 

A  totally  different  direction  has  been  taken  by  scholars  of 
the  twentieth  Century.  Its  effect  has  been  to  make  Torah  study 
mandatory  for  women.  As  has  been  seen,  women  are  required 
to  learn  those  areas  of  Torah  necessary  for  the  proper  Perfor- 
mance of  their  mitzvot.  Rabbi  Israel  Meir  ha-Cohen  (d.  1933), 
author  of  Hafetz  Hayim,  in  his  work  Likutei  Halakhot  to 
Sotah,  comments  on  the  talmudic  Statement  regarding  the 
learning  of  Torah  by  women: 

It  would  seem  to  me  that  this  is  only  at  those  times  of  history 
-'  when  everyone  lived  in  the  place  of  his  ancestors  and  the 
ancestral  tradition  was  very  strong  for  each  individual  and  this 
motivated  him  to  act  in  the  manrTef^f  his  forefathers.  .  .  . 
However,  nowadays,  when  the  tradition  of  our  fathers  has 
become  very  weakened  and  we  find  people  who  do  not  live  closc 
to  the  parental  environment  and  especially  that  there  are  those 
who  have  been  given  a  secular  education,  certainly  it  is  required 
to  teach  them  the  entire  Bible,  the  ethical  writings  of  our  sages, 
etc.,  so  that  the  principles  of  our  holy  faith  will  be  strong  for 
them.  Otherwise,  Heaven  forbid,  they  may  deviate  entirely  from 
the  path  of  God,  and  violate  all  the  precepts  of  the  Torah. ^* 

The   author   of    Hafetz    Hayim  extends    the   requirement  o( 
teaching  a  woman  those  mitzvot  which  are  applicable  to  hei 
from  practical  instruction  to  include  all  that  is  necessary  foi 
proper  motivation  and  Performance.  This,  he  says,  varies  frorr 
Society  to  society.  In  those  societies  where  the  environment  h 
sufficiently  strong  not  to  require  education  for  proper  motiva 
tion,    no    education    is    required,    although    it    is    permitted 
However,  in  contemporary  society,  where  education  is  a  pre 
requisite  for  proper  motivation,  such  education  is  not  only  per 
mitted  but  is  also  required.  Very  few  people  with  a  colleg( 
education  in  Western  culture  and  a  grade-school  education  ir 
Judaism  can  be  properly  observant.  For  a  college-educatec 


ii 


% 


40 


Jewish  Woman  in  Jeioish  Law 


woman,  a  college-level  education  in  Judaism  is  not  optional,  it 
is  absolutely  required. 

The  words  of  the  author  of  Ha  fetz  Hayim  are  echocd  by 
Rabbi  Zalman  Sorotzkin  (d.  1966)  in  his  werk  Moznaim  la- 
Mishpat.^^  In  an  ingenious  tour  de  Force,  he  says  that  nowa- 
days  one  who  does  not  teach  his  daughter  Torah  leaves  her 
prey  to  street  culture  and  eo  ipso  teaches  her  its  immorality.  It 
is  not  the  teaching  of  Torah  that  teaches  tiflut,  immorality,  but 
rather  the  lack  of  such  teaching. 

The  overwhelming  weight  of  modern  authority  follows  this 
line  of  reasoning,"  and  the  existence  of  schools  of  higher 
Jewish  learning  for  women  among  all  factions  of  contemporary 
Orthodox  Jewry  is  ample  proof  of  this  fact. 

In  summary,  the  learning  of  Torah  is  not  obligatory  for 
women   as  it  is   for  men.   A   man's   ultimate  task  is  an  all- 
engrossing  involvement  in  the  study  of  Torah.  A  woman's 
ultimate  task  is  in  another  area  and  another  direction.  She  is 
obligated  to  study  and  be  proficient  in  order  to  perform  her 
mandatory  tasks.  All  knowledge  necessary  for  the  Performance 
of   her    tasks    is   obligatory.    At    times   when  only    technical 
knowledge  is  necessary,  only  technical  knowledge  is  required.     / 
When  more  sophisticated  knowledge  is  necessary  to  ensure 
Performance,    such    knowledge   is   required.    Other   areas   of 
knowledge  are  optional.  The  sages  were  cautious  about  permit- 
ting  women  to  venture  into  areas  irrelevant  to  Performance. 
Some  scholars  say  that  they  forbade  it.  Most  say  that  they 
urged  caution  and  prudence  out  of  fear  of  the  dangers  of  super- 
ficial  knowledge.    No   authorities   ever  meant  to  justify   the 
perverse  modern-day  Situation  in  which  women  are  allowed  to 
become  sophisticatedly  conversant  with  all  cultures  other  than 
their  own.  If,  in  the  twentieth  Century,  American  women  are 
more  familiär  with  the  Protestant  ethic  than  with  the  Jewish 
ideal,  it  is  nothing  but  a  violation  of  the  original  intent  of  R. 
Eliezer's  Statement.  In  twentieth-century  America,  there  is  no 
reason  for  Jewish  women  to  be  Ignorant  of  the  basics  of  their 


I 

i 


Torah  Knowled<^e  for  Woman 


41 


tradition.  All  are  dutibound  to  learn  the  word  of  God  and  serve 
Him. 

The  exclusion  of  women  f rom  Torah  learning  was  not  car- 
ried  over  to  other  areas  of  intellectual  involvement.  With 
reference  to  intellectual  faculties  the  Talmud  says:  "R.  Hisdah 
says  .  .  .  this  teaches  us  that  women  were  given  greater  intel- 
ligence  [binah  yeterah]  than  men."^^  Most  commentaries  have 
interpreted  the  talmudic  Statement  in  accordance  with  the 
above  translation.  Some  have  translated  the  key  phrase  hiriah 
yeterah  as  referring  to  earlier  maturity." 

The  current  feminist  critique  of  Judaism  has  seized  upon 
another  talmudic  passage  as  an  alleged  denigration  of  the  intel- 
ligence  of  women— the  phrase  rov  nashim  daatan  kalot 
alayhen.  According  to  feminist  critics,  this  comment  indicates 
that  the  talmudic  sages  regarded  women  as  silly,  frivolous,  ig- 
norant,  and  incapable  of  being  educated.  There  is  nothing  in 
the  Talmud  to  substantiate  this  claim. 

The  phrase  is  used  twice  in  the  Talmud,  both  times  in  the 
same  context— that  most  women  under  intense  pressure  will 
yield  more  easily  than  most  men.^'  This  is  not  a  general  rule 
covering  all  situations  and  was  never  meant  as  such;  it  was 
only  a  Statement  of  general  psychological  tendencies.  Hence, 
we  read  rov  nashim— ''most  women."  It  was  never  used  in  the 
Talmud  in  reference  to  intellectual  abilities  or  moral  character. 
To  the  contrary,  in  many  places  in  the  Bible  and  Talmud  we 
find  it  asserted  that  woman  is  higher  in  a  moral  sense  than  man, 
as  has  been  discussed  earlier.  The  phrase  rov  nashim  daatan 
kalot  alayhen  should  be  viewed  in  the  context  of  the  story  we 
related  earlier  of  the  pious  man  and  the  pious  woman. ^°  While 
in  a  specific  instance,  under  the  pressure  of  the  moment,  a 
woman  may  yield  more  easily  than  a  man,  on  a  day-to-day- 
basis  it  is  the  woman  who  determines  her  husband's  direction, 
for  better  or  worse,  rather  than  vice  versa.  Furthcrmorc,  this 
Statement  reflects  the  fact  that  women  are  generally  more  sen- 
sitive and  softer  than  men.  While  to  some  contemporaries  this 


\ 


42 


Jewish  Woman  in  Jewish  Law 


may  sound  pejorative  and  an  indication  of  an  undesirable 
weakness,  in  the  Jewish  context  it  certainly  refers  to  a  positive 
trait  of  character.  This  trait  allovvs  women  to  excel  in  the  field 
of  hesed.  Lastly,  the  said  Statement  was  never  used  by  the 
Talmud  or  by  rishonim  in  reference  to  the  learning  of  Torah  by 
women. 


8 


Women  s  Obligation  in  Mitzvot 


\ 


? 


There  is  virtually  no  distinction  between  men  and  women  in 
the  area  of  moral  responsibility  covered  by  the  negative  com- 
mandments,^  except  that  three  of  the  negative  commandments 
are  not  applicable  to  women  for  technical  reasons.^  There  is  a 
distinction  between  men  and  women,  however,  in  regard  to  the 
positive  commandments.  Women  are  obligated  in  virtually  all 
positive  commandments  that  are  independent  of  time,  but  they 
are  exempt  from  most,  though  not  all,  time-bound  positive 
commandments. 

It  would  be  too  facile,  although  perhaps  not  completely 
wrong,  to  say  that  women  are  excused  from  the  time-bound 
commandments  because  of  their  familial  responsibilities. 
Among  the  classic  commentators,  this  opinion  is  found  in  the 
Abudrahm  (d.  1345).^  This  view  clearly  points  out  the  ultimacy 
of  a  woman's  household  tasks,  as  optional  nonultimate  tasks, 
however  pressing,  do  not  secure  relief  from  ultimate  respon- 
sibilities.* Most  authorities  disagree  with  the  Abudrahm,  many 
of  them  maintaining  that  he  takes  no  cognizance  of  the  fact 
that  women  who  have  no  household  tasks  are  also  exempt  from 
these  mitzvot.*  Most  of  the  authorities  offer  no  explanation  for 
the  exemption  but  regard  it  as  part  of  the  basic  fabric  of  Jewish 
law  to  which  the  question  "why?"  is  inapplicable.  However,  as 
the  Talmud  points  out,  the  exemption  implies  nothing  as  to  the 
relative  worth  of  male  and  female*— both  are  equally  sacred. 

A  few  later  authorities  have  taken  the  fact  of  women's  ex- 
emption from  various  commandments  as  evidence  of  the 
greater  ease  with  which  women  achieve  spiritual  goals.  The 

43 


44 


Jcwinh  Wottunt  in  lcwii*h  l.iiw 


Maharal  of  Prague  (d.  1609)  views  the  exemption  as  reflcctive 
of  the  nature  of  woman's  personality,  which  is  naturally  closer 
to  the  serenity  necessary  for  spiritual  achievement/  He  writes 
that  the  Performance  of  mitzvot  and  the  learning  of  Torah  are 
designed  to  enable  human  beings  to  achieve  spiritual  perfec- 
tion.  Man's  aggression  is  a  detriment  to  his  spiritual  aspirations 
and  he  therefore  must  work  harder  and  be  given  extra  religious 
tasks.  Women,  however,  becaiise  of  their  greater  potential  for 
spiritual  growth,  require  fewer  mitzvot  to  achieve  spiritual 
perfection.  Thus,  he  says,  the  Talmud  teils  us  that  the  reward 
promised  to  woman  is  greater  than  that  promised  to  man.*  It  is 
assumcd  that  they  will  generally  achieve  higher  levels  than 
men.'' 

Rabbi  Samson  Raphael  Hirsch  (d.  1888)  writes  that  the 
nature  of  man's  day-to-day  activities  requires  extra  mitzvot  to 
provide  him  with  the  proper  spiritual  balance. 

The  Torah  did  not  impose  thosc  mitzvot  on  women  because  it 
did  not  consider  them  necessary  to  he  demanded  from  women. 
All  KOIJ  jornu?  :\m  m:^D,  mitzvot  assei  she'ha-zman  s^rnnui,  ,ire 
meant,  by  symbolic  procedurcs,  to  being  certain  facts,  princi- 
ples,  ideas  and  resoliitions,  afresh  to  our  minds  from  time  to  ' 
time  to  spur  us  on  afresh  and  to  fortify  us  to  realize  them  to 
keep  them.  God's  Torah  takcs  it  for  granted  that  our  women 
have  greater  fervor  and  more  faithfui  enthusiasm  for  their  God- 
serving  calling  and  that  their  calling  runs  less  danger  in  their 
case  than  in  that  of  men  from  the  temptations  which  occur  in 
the  course  of  business  and  professional  life.  Accordingly,  it  does 
not  find  it  necessary  to  give  women  those  repeated  spiirring 
reminders  to  remain  true  to  their  calling,  and  warnings  against 
weaknesses  in  their  business  lives.'° 

The  exemption  of  women  from  time-bound  positive  com- 
mandments  is  a  principle  that  exempts  women  from  seven 
commandments:  the  recitation  of  the  Shema.  the  wearing  of 
tefillin,  the  wearing  of  tzitzit,  the  counting  of  the  omer,  hearing 


lA/(fnn'n'tt  Uhli;/iitii}n  in  Mitzxxjt 


45 


the  shofar,  dwelling  in  the  sukkah,  and  taking  the  lulav.  With 
the  possible  exception  of  tefillin,  a  woman  is  not  barred  from 
the  Performance  of  these  commandments,  only  exempted. 
Most  scholars  have  simply  accepted  the  principle  as  a  basic  ele- 
ment  of  Jewish  law;  they  have  merely  stated  it  without  addres- 
sing  themselves  to  the  question  "why?."  A  few  have  seen  in 
this  principle  an  implicit  Statement  on  the  nature  of  woman's 
spiritual  potential.  No  authority,  in  his  evaluation  of  this  prin- 
ciple, has  quoted  the  following  enigmatic  midrashic  Statement. 

Why  were  women  included  with  minors  and  slaves  with  regard 
to  ftheir  exemption  from  certain]  mitzvot?*  [It  is]  because  of 
their  Single  minded  nature.f  Thus  it  says:  "And  Hannah  spoke 
of  what  was  on  her  heart  fmind]"  fl  Sam.  1:13].  "And  I  find 
more  bitter  than  death  the  woman  whose  heart  fmind]  [places] 
snares  and  traps,  her  hands  are  as  a  prison.  He  who  is  good 
before  God  will  be  spared  from  her  and  a  sinner  shall  be  trapped 
by  her"  [Eccles.  7:26]. |  "And  her  husband  arose  and  went  after 
her  to  speak  of  what  was  on  her  heart  fmind]"  fjudg.  19:3]. 
Similarly  of  a  minor  the  Bible  says:  "Foolishness  is  bound  up  in 
the  heart  [mind]  of  a  child"  fProv.  22:15].  Similarly,  a  slave  has 
a  single-minded  dedication  to  his  master." 

Minors  are  exempted  because  they  lack  mature  judgment 
and  are  single-minded  in  the  pursuit  of  foolishness.  Slaves  are 
exempted  because  of  their  single-minded  dedication  to  their 
masters,  which  precludes  their  dedicating  themselves  properly 
to  the  Performance  of  mitzvot.  A  slave's  tirhe  is  not  his  own. 

Unfortunately,  the  Midrash  does  not  elaborate  upon  the 
nature  of  woman's  single-mindedness  and  its  implications  for 

*Technically,  this  is  imprecise.  Women  and  slaves  are  exempted  from  a 
limited  number^of  mitzvot;  minors  from  all  of  them. 

fLitcrally,  "because  they  have  one  heart." 

$The  Talmud  (Yeh.  63b)  contrasts  Solomon*s  picture  of  the  evil  wife  with 
his  view  of  the  good  wife:  **He  who  has  found  a  wife,  has  found  goodness  and 
receives  favor  from  God'*  (Prov.  18:22). 


46 


Jewish  Woman  in  Jewish  L 


aw 


m.tzvot.  The  first  verse  cited  by  the  Midrash  concerns  Han- 
nah s  smgle-minded  preoccupation  with  her  prayer;  the  second 
■s  concerned  with  the  single-mindedness  of  an  evil  wife  The 
nature  of  the  third  biblical  quotation  is  unclear.  The  Midrash 
does  not  suggest  that  there  is  a  unifyir.g  Factor  behind  the  three 
b.bhcal  Verses,  nor  is  there  any  obvious  explanation.  Furthcr- 
more,   the  c  assic  authorities  do  not  make  reference  to  this 
Midrash  m  their  writings.  While  the  Statement  of  the  Midrash 
M  r'T^  consistent   with   the   approaches  of  Abudrahm, 
Maharal,  and  Hirsch,  it  does  not  establish  the  vahdity  of  their 
analyses.  The  Midrash  is  also  consistent  with  many  other  pos- 
s.ble  approaches.  However,  the  total silenceaccorded  this  State- 
ment by  all  authorities  seems  to  imply  that  they  rejected  it 


• 


f  I 


Women  and  Optional  Mitzvot 


Even  though  legislating  one's  own  Obligation  is  not  generally 
permitted,  a  woman  is  allowed  to  perform  optionally  all  the 
mitzvot  from  which  she  has  been  exempted.  Furthermore,  her 
optional  Performance  is  considered  to  be  a  meritorious  act,  i.e., 
a  mitzvah,  and  not  a  mere  irrelevant  act.  Rashi  (d.  1105)  is  the 
only  authority  who  suggests  that  there  may  be  a  problem  in 
such  optional  acts/  In  interpreting  the  talmudic  discussion  on 
whether  or  not  women  may  put  on  tefillin,  Rashi  says  that  the 
argument  revolves  not  only  about  tefillin  but  about  all  the 
mitzvot  from  which  women  have  been  exempted.  R.  Meir  and 
R.  Yehudah,  who  forbid  Performance  of  these  mitzvot,    base 
their  view  on  the  verse  'Thou  shalt  not  add  or  subtract"  (Deut. 
4:2,  13:1).  One  must  worship  God  in  the  specific  manner  as- 
signed  to  him  and  not  choose  alternative  forms.  It  is  not  clear 
whether  Rashi  decides  in  favor  of  the  above  opinion  or  in  favor 
of  the  opinion  of  R.  Yossi,  who,  he  says,  permits  women  to 
perform  all  the  mitzvot  from  which  they  have  been  exempted. 
All  authorities,  besides  Rashi,  clearly  State  that  women  perform 
virtually  all  the  mitzvot  from  which  they  have  been  excused. 
Jewish  practice  is  that  women  may  perform  all  optional  mitzvot 
with  the  exception  of  tallit  and  tefillin. 

The  Magen  Avraham  (d.  1683),  however,  suggests  a  legal 
mechanism  through  which  women  might  actually  become 
obligated  in  those  mitzvot  from  which  they  have  been  ex- 
empted by  the  Torah.^  The  Talmud  decided  that  ma'ariv,  the 
evening  prayer,  is  optional.^  Most  authorities  say  that  since 
men  have  nonetheless  taken  the  Obligation  of  ma'ariv  upon 

47 


48 


lexvish  lA/oman  in  Icioinh  l.mo 


lln'li|i»rlvru,  il  Im  imiw  (»MI)',.iI(»IV  loi  llirill  Tlir  AI//V1W/ 
Äv\i\\um  M.tyM  (ktl  iIiIm  Im  Itiic  nl  «ill  npllonnl  mll/Viil.^  TIiIIm,  Im* 
says,  vvoincn  jro  obligcUcJ  U)  cDiint  IJic  oincr  lHr»uiHe  ihry  luivu 
already  accepted  it  upon  themselves,  and  He  would  most 
probably  extend  this  view  to  the  mitzvot  of  shofar'  and  lulav, 
both  of  which  are  regularly  performed  by  virtually  all  women. 
The  reasoning  of  the  Magen  Avraham,  however,  is  limited  to 
optional  mitzvot.  It  does  not  extend  to  the  creation  of  new 
mitzvot.  These  may  be  religiously  irrelevant  or  evcn  possibly 
forbidden,  but  never  obligatory.  Furthermore,  the  Obligation 
engcndered  by  voluntary  acceptance  does  not  raise  the  mitzvah 
to  the  level  of  a  divinely  ordained  mitzvah.  The  gap  betv^een 
human  Obligation  and  divine  Obligation  is  unbridgeable.  Final- 
ly,  the  Magen  Avraham  does  not  speak  of  voluntary  accep- 
tance by  an  individual  but  rather  by  an  entire  Community.  If  an 
individual  accepted  an  optional  mitzvah,  it  would  most 
probably  have  the  Status  of  a  personal  minhag  or  a  personal 
neder. 

Virtually  all  the  authorities  agree  that  women  may  perform 
the  mitzvot  from  which  they  have  been  exempted,  but  the 
question  of  whether  they  are  permitted  to  recite  the  appropriate 
blessings  is  very  controversial.  Before  performing  a  mitzvah, 
one  nuist  recite:  "Blessed  are  You,  O  Lord,  our  God,  King  of 
the  universe,  who  has  sanctified  us  through  his  mitzvot  and 
commanded  us  to  .  .  .  "  The  ending  of  the  blessing  depends  on 
the  specific  mitzvah.  The  phrase  "and  commanded  us"  pre- 
sents  a  problem  in  the  case  of  optional  mitzvot.  Rabbenu  Tarn 
(d.  1171?)  interpreted  the  phrase  as  referring  to  the  collective 
Obligation  of  the  Jewish  people/  and  ruied  that  women,  as  part 
of   the  collective,  could   recite  the  blessing.  Maimonides  (d. 
1204)  interpreted  the  phrase  as  referring  to  individual  Obliga- 
tion in  the  specific  mitzvah  and  ruled  that  women  could  not 
recite  the  blessing  when  performing  optional  mitzvot.^  Since 
the  custom  of  Ashkenazic  Jewry  has  been  to  follow  Rabbenu 
Tam,  Ashkenazic  women  recite  blessings  on  optional  mitzvot.** 


\\\MMtMi  itn.i  i  V''^^''«*'  Mi(:rot 


40 


Woinrn  aiv  (MMupl  fri)nu(Ml»nn  (>MiK,i^li^>ns.  This  does  not 
rsilihic  llirin  Ironi  pcifoiniln^';  lluw  niil/vof,  hiil  does  rcducc 
[\\v  iiUMnln^,fiilncHN  of  llioir  Performance.  The  valiie  of  a  mitz- 
vah lies  in  its  divine  command.  To  someone  who  views  Judaism 
as  the  ultimate  ego  trip,  the  inability  to  perfornn  certain  male 
tasks  may  be  severely  debilitating.  However,  that  is  just  the . 
point.  The  essence  of  Judaism  is  for  a  Jew  to  live  his  life  in  con- 
junction  with  the  divine  will.'  For  a  male,  it  is  the  divine 
imperative  to  a  male.  For  a  female,  it  is  the  divine  imperative  to 
a  female.  For  a  priest,  it  is  the  divine  imperative  to  a  priest.  For 
a  Levite,  it  is  the  divine  imperative  to  a  Levite.  For  an  Israelite, 
it  is  the  divine  imperative  to  him. 

Part  of  a  Jew's  morning  prayer  is  the  recitation  of  a  series  of 
blessings:  "who  has  not  created  me  a  gentile/'  "who  has  not 
created  me  a  slave,"  "who  has  not  created  me  a  woman."  In 
place  of  the  last  blessing,  women  recite  the  blessing  "who  has 
created  me  in  accordance  with  His  will."  The  source  for  the 
above  prayer  for  men  is  the  Tosefta,  which  reads: 

R.  Yehudah  said:  "  A  man  must  recite  every  day  .  .  .  'Blcssed  art 
Thou  .  .  .  who  has  not  made  me  a  woman'  ...  for  women  are 
not  commanded  in  [all  of  the]*°  mitzvot."»' 


A  man  acknowledges  his  extra  duties  every  morning  through 

these  blessings. 

The  recitation  of  a  blessing  marks  a  phenomenon  which  re- 
minds  the  individual  of  God's  actions  in  this  world.  Sometimes 
blessings  are  expressions  of  gratitude,  birkot  hodo'oh. 
Sometimes  they  are  Statements  of  praise  and  recognition  of 
God's  activity,  birkot  shevah.  Before  one  eats  anything,  he 
recites  a  blessing  acknowledging  God  as  the  source  of 
mankind^s  sustenance.  This  is  a  birkat  shevah.  After  one  eats, 
he  expresses  gratitude  for  the  food  he  has  eaten.  This  is  a  birkat 
hodo'oh.  When  a  close  relative  dies,  one  recites  a  blessing 
recognizing    and    accepting    God's    judgment    and     infinite 


50 


Jewish  Woman  in  Jewisli  Law 


wisdom.  When  one  beholds  thunder  and  lightening,  he  recites 
a  blessing  acknowledging  and  praising  God  as  the  ordainer  of 
the  laws  of  nature.  The  last  two  blessings  are  hirkot  shevah, 
Some  authorities  have  interpreted  the  morning  blessings  as 
birkhot  shevah.  Rabbi  Samson  Raphael  Hirsch  writes: 

This  is  not  a  prayer  of  thanks   that  God  did   not  makc  us 
heathens,  slaves,  or  women.  Rather  it  calls  upon  us  to  con- 
template  that  task  which  God  has  imposed  upon  us  by  making 
US  free  Jewish  men,  and  to  pledge  ourselves  to  do  justice  to  this 
mission.  These  three  aspects  of  our  own  Status  impose  upon  us 
duties  much  more  comprehensive  than  the  rest  of  mankind. 
And  if  our  women  have  a  smaller  numbcr  of  mitzvot  to  fulfill 
than  men,  they  know  that  the  tasks  which  they  must  discharge 
as  free  Jewish  women  are  no  less  in  accordance  with  the  will  and 
desire  of  God  than  are  those  of  their  brothers.  Hence  their  bless- 
ing is  "who  has  created  me  in  accordance  with  His  will."'^ 

Most  commentators  have  interpreted  these  blessings  as 
birkot  hodo'oh.  From  this  perspective,  the  blessings  are  a 
man's  expression  of  gratitude  to  God  for  providing  him  wilh 
extra  opportunities  to  serve  God-not  gratitude  for  a  higher. 
Station  in  life,  but  for  fourteen  extra  opportunities  to  serve 
Him. 

The  woman,  when  reciting  her  blessing,  acknowledges  that 
the  role  differentiation  implicit  in  her  exemption  from  certain 
mitzvot  is  part  of  the  overall  divine  plan  for  the  world,  whose 
justification  lies  in  the  will  and  wisdom  of  God. 

Certain  recent  authorities  have  made  much  of  the  fact  that 
all  the  blessings  are  in  the  negative  form,  while  the  woman's 
special  blessing  is  in  the  affirmative.-  The  Standard  interpreta- 
tion  of  the  negative  form  is  that  it  would  have  been  better  for 
man  not  to  have  been  created  than  to  have  been  created  '^  The 
difficulties  and  trials  of  life  are  at  times  so  overwhelming  that 
the  negative  aspects  of  life  very  often  outweigh  the  positive 
ones.  However,  this  does  not  grant  us  the  license  to  resign  from 


'i 


Women  and  Optional  Mitzvot 


51 


life.**  True,  it  might  have  been  better  for  man  not  to  have  been 
created.  But  now  that  he  has  been  created,  he  must  seek  ways 
of  enriching  and  infusing  value  into  his  existence.  Thus  one 
recites  the  blessings  regarding  his  creation  in  the  negative,  not 
the  positive. 

Why,  then,  does  a  woman  recite  her  blessings  in  the 
positive?  It  has 'been  suggested  that  the  blessing  for  women 
thanks  God  for  a  different  aspect  of  creation— for  having 
created  woman's  nature  similar  to  God's  will.  We  relate  to  God 
in  his  role  of  enabler  and  as  the  archetype  of  the  performer  of 
hesed.  These  are  represented  by  the  creation  of  woman  in  a 
greater  sense  than  the  creation  of  man.  Thus  women  say: 
"Who  has  made  me  similar  to  His  will." 

Much  has  recently  been  written  in  the  feminist  press  about 
the  supposed  disparagement  of  women  through  their  exemp- 
tion from  time-bound  positive  commandments.  The  basic 
thrust  of  the  critique  has  been  that  the  exemption  of  women 
from  positive  time-bound  commandments  equates  them  with 
slaves,'*  thereby  insulting  their  human  dignity  and  rendering 
their  Judaism  peripheral.  This  is  nothing  but  a  classic  example 
of  the  "like  result  implies  like  cause"  fallacy  of  reasoning.  It  is 
true  that  a  slave  is  an  incomplete  Jew,  in  the  sense  that  he  un- 
dergoes  a  voluntary  conversion  ceremony  before  he  can  be  held 
permanently.'^  The  incomplete  conversion  ceremony  rendcrs 
him  a  partial  Jew,  and  his  partial  Obligation  in  mitzvot  is  in- 
dicative  of  this  Status.  Maimonides  says:  "Slaves  who  have  im- 
mersed  themselves  for  conversion  and  accepted  upon 
themselves  those  mitzvot  which  are  obligatory  on  slaves  have 
left  the  Status  of  non-Jew  and  not  yet  reached  the  Status  of 
Jew."'*  Thus,  a  free  slave  requires  an  additional  conversion 
ceremony  to  complete  his  Judaism."  This  is  so  whether  the 

slave' is  male  or  female." 

The  Torah  often  uses  the  word  ahiv,  which  is  interpreted 
by  the  Talmud  as  meaning  a  completely  obligated  Jew.''  Both 
slaves  and  non-Jews  are  excluded  by  this  ref  erence."  A  woman 


52 


Jewish  Woman  in  Jewish  Law 


is  not  excluded  by  ahiv.''  There  is  a  fundamental  difference 
between  the  exemption  of  slaves  from  positive  time-bound 
commandments  and  that  of  women.  The  exemption  of  slaves 
Sterns  from  the  fact  that  their  conversion  is  incomplete  and 
hence  so  is  their  degree  of  Obligation.  A  woman,  however,  is  a 
completely  obligated  Jew,  and  her  exemption  is  not  an  indica- 
tion  of  an  incomplete  Status  as  a  Jew.  Thus  a  woman  is  in- 
cluded  in  the  Status  of  ahiv  while  a  slave  is  not.  Furthermore, 
had  the  equation  of  woman  with  slave  been  actually  true,  the 
personal  Status  of  a  Jewish  woman  and  a  slave  woman  would 
be  exactly  the  same.   However,  a  slave  woman,  upon  being 
freed,  requires  an  additional  conversion  ceremony  in  order  to 
pass  from  the  Status  of  incomplete  Jewess  to  the  Status  of  com- 
plete  Jewess. 

Lastly,  one  should  remember  that  in  Jewish  thought  every 
human  life  is  sacred,  and  no  one  can  judge  the  relative  value  of 
one  human  life  over  another.  This  principle  finds  expression  in 
the  law  that  if  one  is  presented  with  the  option  of  kill  or  bc  kil- 
led,  he  must  not  kill.^^  The  Talmud  explains  that  it  is  not  in  the 
hands  of  any  mortal  to  judge  the  relative  value  of  one  human 
life  against  another."  This  law  applies  equally  to  male  and  ' 
female,  Jew  and  non-Jew,  slave  and  free  man. 

The  contemporary  f eminist  critique  of  Judaism  has  seen  the 
exemption  of  women  from  time-bound  positive  command- 
ments as  a  serious  handicap  to  spiritual  achievemcnt.  A 
characteristic  article  expressing  this  attitude  is  'The  Jew  Who 
Wasn't  There''  by  Rachel  Adler.^^  Adler  claims  that  the  restric- 
tion  imposed  upon  women  by  these  exemptions,  in  practical 
terms,  deprives  them  of  the  right  to  participate  in  the  fun- 
damental areas  of  religious  self-expression.  "In  other  words, 
members  of  this  category  have  been  'excused'  from  most  of  the 
positive  Symbols  which  for  the  male  Jew  hallow  time,  hallow 
his  physical  being  and  inform  both  bis  myth  and  his 
philosophy."  While  this  may  sound  fine,  a  closer  look  at  the 
record  does  not  bear  out  her  thesis.  Both  women  and  men  are 


Women  and  Optional  Mitzvot 


53 


required  to  pray,  the  basic  difference  between  them  being  that 
women  are  required  to  pray  twice  a  day,  men  three  times.  The 
thlrd  prayer,  ma'ariv,  the  evening  prayer,  is  also  optional  for 
men.'^  However,  they  have  accepted  it  upon  themselves  and 
rendered  it  obligatory.  It  is  a  most  specious  form  of  reasoning 
to    find    within    this    self-imposed    exemption    a    pejorative 
posture.  There  are  eleven  major  and  minor  holidays  during  the 
year.  The  most  important  one  is  the  Sabbath.  This  is  also  the 
one  with  the  most  fundamental  impact  on  the  life  of  the  Jew. 
There  is  no  distinction  whatsoever  between  men  and  women  as 
far  as  the  mitzvah  of  the  Sabbath  is  concerned.^«*  Among  the 
occasional  holidays,   Yom  Kippur,   the  Day  of  Atonement, 
probably  does  more  than  any  other  to  establish  and  cultivate  a 
Jew's  relationship  with  God.  There   is  no  distinction  what- 
soever between  men  and  women  as  far  as  the  mitzvah  of  the 
Day  of  Atonement  is  concerned."  The  Passover  holiday,  in  all 
of  its  details,  both  the  negative  aspects  of  not  eating  hametz 
and  the  positive  aspects  of  the  entire  seder  symbolism  and  the 
holiday  aspect  of  the  first  two  and  last  two  days,  is  equally  in- 
cumbent  upon  men  and  upon  women.  There  is  no  distinction 
whatsoever  between  men  and  women  as  far  as  the  mitzvah  of 
Passover  is  concerned.^°  The  same  applies  to  the  mitzvah  of 
Shevuot.^»  The  mitzvah  of  Hannukah  is  applicable  to  both  men 
and  women  since  it  embraces  all  who  were  involved  in  the 
miracle."  The  same  applies   to  Purim  with  all  of   its  com- 
mandments." The  fast  days,  with  their  positive  and  negative 
aspects,  are  also  applicable  to  men  and  women  alike.^*  Rosh 
Hodesh  is  more  applicable  to  women  than  to  men.  It  was  given 
to  women  as  an  optional  holiday  in  reward  for  their  extra  piety 
as  evidenced  by  their  refusal  to  participate  in  the  making  of  the 
'  golden  calf."  Shemini  Atzeret  is  a  holiday  for  men  and  women 
equally."  The  only   holidays   where   a   distinction   is   drawn 
between  men  and  women  are  Rosh  HaShannah  and  Sukot. 
While  women  are  commanded  to  observe  both  holidays,  they 
are  excused  from  the  special  holiday  rituals,  i.e..  hearing  the 


I 


54 


Jewish  Woman  in  Jewish  Law 


Wlomen  and  Optional  Mitzvot 


55 


shofar,"  dwelling  in  the  Sukah,"  and  taking  the  lulav."  These 
three  acts  are  optional  for  women,  and  to  the  best  of  my 
knowledge,  most  observant  women  perform  all  of  them.  Thus, 
to  say  that  women  are  not  given  the  opportunity  to  hallow  time 
through  the  appropriate  ritual  really  takes  very  little 
cognizance  of  the  facts. 

The  other  area  of  time-bound  positive  commandments 
from  which  women  are  excused  are  those  which  reflect  a  day- 
night  difference,  i.e.,  tallit,"  tefillin/'  and  Shema."  As  impor- 
tant  as  these  are,  I  really  find  it  a  little  preposterous  to  say  that 
they  are  the  exclusive  or  even  major  means  of  religious  self- 
expression,  as  Adler  would  like  to  maintain.  Furthermore,  the 
one  really  "denied"  to  women  is  tefillin,"  which,  although  im- 
portant,  is  certainly  not  the  central  ritual  in  Judaism. 

Adler  says:  "Since  most  of  the  mitzvot  not  restricted  by 
time  are  negative,  and  since  women,  children  and  slaves  are 
responsible    to    fulfill    all    negative    mitzvot,    including    the 
negative  time-bound  mitzvot,  it  follows  that  for  members  of 
this  category,  the  characteristic  posture  of  their  Judaism  is 
negation  rather  than  affirmation."  The  reason  that  most  mitz- 
vot not  restricted  by  time  are  negative  is  that  most  mitzvot  in 
Kcneral  are  negative.  This  is  true  for  both  men  and  women. 
There  are  365  negative  commanments  and  248  positive  ones. 
There  are  essenlially  only  fourteen  positive  commandments 
from  which  women  are  excused:  (1)  the  reading  of  the  Shema 
twice  daily;  (2)  learning  and  teaching  Torah,  (3)  putting  tefillin 
on  the  head,  (4)  putting  tefillin  on  the  arm,  (5)  placing  tzitzit  on 
four-cornered  garments,  (6)  writing  a  Torah,  (7)  recitation  of 
the  priestly  blessings  by  male  priests,  (8)  counting  the  omer 
(this  IS  problematic,  since  Nahmanides  obligates  women  in  the 
counting  of  the  omer),  (9)  dwelling  in  the  sukkah,  (10)  taking 
the  lulav,  (11)  hearing  the  shofar,  (12)  procreation,  (13)  cir- 
cumcision,  (14)  making  one's  wife  happy  during  the  first  year 
of  marriage.  Furthermore,  the  claim  that  the  negative  com- 
mands  contain  only  negation  and  not  affirmation  depends  very 


much  on  one's  posture.  Kashrut  is  a  negative  command. 
However,  it  can  be  an  affirmative  element  of  the  Jewish  ex- 
perience.  The  Mekhiltah  teils  us: 

"Saying/'  this  teaches  us  that  the  ]ews  answered  to  the  positive 
commands  yes  and  to  the  negative  commands  no.  These  are  the 
words  of  R.  Yishmael.  R.  Akiva  taught  that  on  the  positive 
commandments  they  answered  yes  and  on  the  negative  ones 
they  also  answered  yes.** 

The  essence  of  R.  Akiva's  answer  to  R.  Yishmael  is  that  affir- 
mation also  exists  within  the  negative  commandments. 

Adler's  further  position  that  a  woman  is  bound  to  comply 
with  the  negative  mitzvot  so  as  not  to  undermine  Jewish  life  is 
baseless.  First  of  all,  this  does  not  take  into  account  that  women 
are  bound  by  nearly  all  the  positive  commands.  Why  would  a 
woman  undermine  Jewish  life  more  by  not  praying  than  by  not 
saying  the  Shema?  A  woman  is  commanded  in  all  the  essential 
"duties  of  the  heart"  of  love  and  fear  of  God  which  direct  and 
command  man  to  engage  in  a  relationship  with  God.''  Adler 
would  have  done  well  to  remember  the  verse  in  Psalms  read  in 
the  Friday  night  Service:  "The  daughters  of  Zion  exult  in  their 
King  [i.e.;  God]  because  of  your  commands,  O  God!"  (Ps. 
97:8).  Does  this  sound  like  a  denial  of  women  maintaining  a 
positive  relationship  with  God?  A  woman  may  keep  kosher  so 
that  her  family  can  keep  kosher,  but  she  is  also  commanded  to 
keep  kosher  as  a  unique  individual. 

Adler  continues:  "It  was,  perhaps,  most  damaging  that  the 
woman's  meager  mitzvot  are,  for  the  most  part,  closely  con- 
nected to  some  physical  goal  or  object."  This  Statement  misses 
*  the  whole  point  of  the  mitzvot.  There  are  two  distinct  types  of 
mitzvot:  duties  of  the  heart,  and  mitzvot  which  revolve  around 
physical  objects.  Women  are  excused  from  the  Shema/''  but 
this  is  the  only  duty  of  the  heart  from  which  they  are  excused. 
Women  are  commanded  to  know  God,  love  Him,  and  fear  Him, 


56 


Jewish  Woman  in  Jeivish  Law 


to  declare  His  unity  to  sanctify  His  Name,  and  to  pray  to  Him/^ 
Among  the  mitzvot  which  revolve  about  physical  objects,  most 
concern  the  physical  objects  of  everyday  life,  and  a  fcw,  biit 
only  a  few,  concern  ritual  objects.  A  famous  Midrash  teils  us 
that  the  angels  requested  that  the  Torah  be  given  to  them/* 
God  answered  that  the  essential  part  of  the  Torah  revolves 
about  the  physical  objects  and  activities  in  man's  everyday  life 
and  is  therefore  inapplicable  to  angels.  The  Torah  is  for  man 
involved  in  the  physical  world,  not  for  ethereal  spiritual  beings. 
It  Orders  the  way  he  dresses,  eats,  conducts  business,  farms, 
cuts  his  hair,  and  a  myriad  of  other  activities.  The  Torah  suf- 
fuses   the   physical  with  the  spiritual.  The  physical  and  the 
spiritual  are  not  antagonistic  to  the  Jew.  They  are  to  be  joined 
and  vvelded  together  by  both  men  and  women.  To  identify  men 
with  the  spiritual  and  w^omen  with  the  physical,  and  hence  to 
denigrate  the  woman,  comes  close  to  Christianity  but  has  no 
place  in  Judaism. 

Adler  concludes  with  a  three-pronged  complaint  against 
contemporary  and  classic  rabbinic  leadership.  First,  their 
answers  do  not  accept  her  as  a  person  and  set  rigid  stereotypes 
which  define  her  by  limiting  the  directions  in  which  she  may  ' 
grow.  Second,  they  are  dishonest,  for  they  do  not  proceed  from 
a  halakhic,  but  rather  from  a  metahalakhic  or  non-halakhic, 
point  of  View.  Third,  they  have  stagnated  and  not  been  respon- 
sive  to  the  cri'es  of  oppressed  womanhood. 

The  first  complaint  is  analyzed  in  chapter  3.  The  second 
critique  misses  the  whole  point  of  the  halakhic  approach.  The 
strict  halakhist  makes  no  judgments  or  value  Statements  with 
regard  to  the  law.  The  law  is  the  law,  nothing  more.  It  is  the 
given  means  for  serving  God  and  for  achieving  personal  value. 
Once  one  Steps  outside  the  law  and  proceeds  with  an  analysis 
like  Adler's,  which  is  decidedly  nonhalakhic,  a  halakhic  answer 
cannot  be  expected.  Halakhic  answers  exist  for  halakhic  ques- 
tions.  Nonhalakhic  questions  must  receive  nonhalakhic 
answers. 


i 


Women  and  Optional  Mitzvot 


57 


Third,  the  claim  of  alleged  insensitivity  to  the  cry  of  op- 
pressed womanhood  takes  very  little  cognizance  of  the  nature 
of  the  halakhic  process.  Gertain  Statements  are  absolute,  and  no 
amount  of  petitions  will  convince  a  serious  and  sincere 
halakhic  scholar  to  change  his  mind,  if  the  Halakhah  says 
otherwise.  A  serious  scholar  realizes  that  the  law  is  God's,  not 
bis.*'  A  scholar's  task  is  merely  to  communicate  honestly  the 

Word  of  God. 

Many  Statements,  of  course,  are  more  flexible  and  have 
always  been  so  interpreted.  The  total  change  in  attitude  of 
halakhic  scholars  on  the  issue  of  educating  women  certainly 
demonstrates  that  flexibility  is  possible  when  it  is  consistent 
with  the  Halakhah.  Halakhic  scholars  have  always  approached 
their  task  with  open  minds  and  empathy,  but  also  with  a  com- 
plete  realization  that  the  Torah  is  the  word  of  God  and  must  be 
treated  as  such.  They  never  have  viewed  women  as  the  tools  to 
do  mitzvot,  as  Adler  claims,  but  as  unique  Jewish  souls  striving 
to  know  God  and  to  serve  Hirn.  This  has  been  the  basis  of  the 
Jewish  attitude  toward  women  and  will  always  continue  to  be. 
Both  men  and  women  together  strive  for  self-transcendence. 
The  Jewish  woman  has  never  been  a  golem,  but  rather  a 
Singular  being  endowed  by  God  with  a  divine  image  and  given 
by  Him  the  means  and  the  tasks  to  develop  that  image.  Both 
men  and  women  find  their  ultimate  value  and  meaning  as  -»iny 
'n,  servants  of  God. 


/ 


t: 


80 


Jewish  Woman  in  Jexvish  Law 


D.ck  bo  h  d.e.  Tom  had  a  heart  attack.  Therefore  we  concludc 
tha  D.ck  had  a  heart  attack.  Likc  result,  i.e.,  Tom  and  Dick 
both  d.e,  implies  like  cause,  i.e.,  they  both  had  heart  attacks  * 


14 


Women  and  Contracts 


. 


T.J!     1      ^greethat  women  cannot  be  witnesses,  the  Ritva  and  Rabbenu 
Tar.  say  they  can  be  judges  in  the  manner  of  biblical  Deborah  (Judg   4  4) 
Others  agree,  but  limit  a  woman's  ability  to  be  a  judge.  Others  say  that 

d.rected  the  ,udges.  A  teacher  and  religious  guide  of  the  people  and  of  their 
leaders,  yes-a  w.tness  or  a  judge,  according  to  many,  no. 


ir^ 


Financially;  a  woman  enjoys  the  same  rights  as  a  man,  with  the 
exception  of  certain  rights  in  the  law  of  inheritance,  which  will 
be  discussed  presently  in  detail.  The  Talmud  says: 

R.  Yehudah  said  in  the  name  of  Rav  that  the  school  of  R. 
Yishmael  taught  of  the  verse  "If  either  man  or  woman  will  com- 
mit  any  crime"  [Num.  5:6]  that  the  Torah  equated  men  and 
women  with  respect  to  all  culpable  acts.  The  school  of  R.  Elazar 
taught  of  the  verse  "And  these  are  the  [financial]  laws  that  you 
shall  place  before  them"  [Exod.  21:11  that  the  Torah  equated 
men  and  women  with  respect  to  all  the  financial  laws  of  the 
Torah.  The  school  of  Hizkiyah  and  R.  Yossi  Haglili  taught 
about  the  verse  "and  he  killed  a  man  or  woman"  [Exod.  21:28] 
that  the  Torah  equated  men  and  women  as  far  as  deaths  are  con- 
cerned.' 

The  Talmud  explains  that  these  verses  are  necessary  because 
otherwise,  since  women  do  not  generally  engage  in  business,  it 
might  erroneously  be  thought  that  they  were  not  granted  füll 
financial  rights.  To  prevent  any  such  misunderstanding,  the 
Torah  specifically  informs  us  that  women  enjoy  füll  financial 
rights.  Only  minors,  fools,  and  deaf  mutes  have  no  legal  stan-  \ 
ding.'  A  woman  has  legal  Standing  totally  equivalent  to  that  öf  c 
a  man.  She  may  enter  into  any  contract  she  wishes  (a  right 
denied  to  her  under  common  law),  acquire  and  dispose  of 
property  (also  denied  to  her  under  common  law),  be  a  litigant 
in  all  cases  of  contracts  and  damages— precisely  in  the  same 
manner  as  a  man.  Certain  seeming  limitations  arise  because  a 
woman,  being  generally  homebound,  usually  leaves  her  finan- 

81 


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Jewish  Woman  in  Jewish  Law 


Women  and  Contracts 


83 


cial  affairs  to  her  husband,  but  this  reprcsents  practice  rather 
than  the  norm  and  can  be  dispensed  with  by  the  woman  vvilhin 
the  Framework  of  her  Ketubah. 

The  Institution  of  the  Ketubah  was  designed  to  protect  the 
woman.  Upon  marriage,  a  man  becomes  obligated  to  his  wife 
on  both  a  personal  and  a  legal  level— and  these  obligations  can 
be  enforced  in  a  court  of  law.  Certain  extra  laws  were  in- 
troduced  to  avoid  abuses.   A   man  is  minimally  obligated  to 
provide  for  his  wife's  food  and  personal  needs,  clothing  and 
household  needs,  medical  payments,  and  burial;  moreover,  his 
wife  will  be  supported  from  his  estale  after  his  death,  providcd 
not  only  food  but  general  living  expenses  and  home  until  such 
time  as  she  may  remarry,  and  supported  her  daughters,  until 
they  marry.  There  are  also  certain  more  technical  benefits.'  A 
woman  was  in  fact  doubly  guaranteed.   If  she  wished  to  be 
financially  dependent  on  her  husband,  she  was  guaranteed  in 
the  manner  just  stated.  If  she  wished  to  be  financially  indepen- 
dent,  she  could  waive  certain  of  the  above  benefits  and  be  in- 
dependent.*  According  to  the  Torah,  a  woman  could  go  to 
work,  keep  her  earnings,  and  still  demand  complete  support 
from    her   husband.    Such    an    uneven    Situation,    where    the 
woman  contributed   nothing  to  the  household   and  received 
complete  support,  might  well  lead  to  scrious  marital  tensions. 
Hence,  the  rabbis  introduced  a  trade-off  in  marital  duties.  If  a 
woman  wanted  to  keep  all  her  earnings,  she  had  to  reimburse 
her  husband  for  her  food,  but  the  husband  was  still  required  to 
pay   for   her   clothing,   cosmetics,    and    personal   needs.    The 
Talmud  is  vague  as  to  whether  a  woman  who  gocs  to  work  is 
still  liable  for  a  certain  amount  of  housework.*  Some  scholars 
have  obligated  her  in  the  payment  of  the  entire  household  ex- 
pense.*  Others  have  exempted  her  from  normal  house-tending 
activities,  such  as  child  care,  cooking,  and  washing.^  These 
scholars  have  ruled   that  such   duties  become   the  husband's 
responsibility  and  expense.  The  practice  in  contemporary  rab- 
binic  Courts  is  a  compromise  between  the  two  positions.»*  A 


man  cannot  obligate  his  wife  to  pay  the  household  expenses 
and  must  himself  pay  for  the  maintenance  of  a  proper 
household  and  for  child  care,  but  a  woman  who  has  already 
paid  for  these  out  of  her  own  money  cannot  demand  reim- 
bursement  from  her  husband.  On  a  smaller  scale,  there  was  a 
trade-off  between  various  more  technical  benefits.  But  the  deci- 
sion  between  dependence  and  independence  was  left  exclu- 
sively  to  the  woman.  She  alone  decided  whether  or  not  she 
wished  to  work  and  what  she  would  do  with  her  earnings. 

During  the  medieval  era,  Jewish  women  often  engaged  in 
commercial  activities.  Many  responsa  of  the  period  on 
Problems  involving  women  include  the  Statement:  "Nowadays, 
it  is  commonplace  for  women  to  engage  in  business."' 

To  say  that  women  are  not  independent  legal  entities  within 
the  framework  of  Judaism,  as  certain  feminist  critics  have 
done,  is  either  to  be  abysmally  Ignorant  of  the  Jewish  legal 
tradition  or  to  attempt  deliberately  to  pervert  it. 


lhh^ln\>M\i   |'\,  l\>M)UH 


85 


15 


Inheritance  hy  Women 


The  area  of  inheritance  has  often  been  cited  by  Feminist  critics 
as  an  area  of  serious  discrimination  against  women.  A  carefui 
and  dose  examination  will  offer  convincing  evidence  that  the 
inheritance  laws  are  one-sided-but  in  favor  of  women  rather 
ihan  against  them. 

Upon  a  man's  death,  a  lien  against  bis  estate  is  created  by 
the  Claims  of  bis  wife  and  daughters.  A  portion  of  the  estate, 
sufficient  to  ensure  the  wife's  support  tili  her  death,  and  the 
daughters'  support  until  their  marriage,  is  set  aside.  Further- 
more,  the  wife  and  daughters  are  given  usage  of  the  home  and 
household  effects  of  the  deceased.  Thus,  in  practice,  except  for 
the  very  wealthy,  the  entire  estate  is  Frozen  to  be  used  by  the    • 
wife  and  daughters.  In  fact,  it  was  a  common  practice  to  have 
the  widow  manage  the  estate.'  Any  property  that  remains  after 
tiie  nceds  of  wife  and  daughters  are  satisfied  is  subject  to  the 
,  laws   oF   inheritance.   It  can   be   assigned   by   the  owner   to 
'  whomever    he    wishes-his    sons,    bis    daughters,    or    total 
,  strangers.  Statutory  inheritance  is  only  applicable  to  a  man    • 
who  dies  without  having  assigned  his  property  during  bis 
liFetime. 

To  understand  the  laws  oF  inheritance,  a  brieF  introduction 
to  the  theory  oF  inheritance  in  sccular  legal  Systems  will  be 
helpFul.  The  commonly  held  belieF  that  it  is  a  man's  inherent 
and  natural  right  to  will  his  property  to  whomever  he  wishes 
has  a  very  weak  Foundation.' 

A  will  is  a  transFerral  oF  property  aFter  death  and,  as 
Blackstone  noted,  "The  instant  a  man  ceases  to  be,  he  ceases  to 

84 


itIVi'  lUiy  ildlillulon,  flof  II  he  had  a  right  to  dispose  oF  his  ac- 
i|ulslliona  ono  momcnt  beyond  his  life,  he  would  also  have  a 
right  to  direct  their  disposal  For  a  million  years  aFter  him; 
which  would  be  highly  absurd  and  inconvenient."^ 

This  is  not  only  a  theoretical  Statement  but  has  many  prac- 
tical  implications.  The  courts  have  Frequently  ruled  that  the 
Constitution  does  not  guarantee  the  right  oF  testation.  In  a 
seminal  article,  Bigelow  maintains  that  even  within  the  struc- 
ture  oF  Anglo- American  law,  "the  title  to  property,  subject  to 
life  ownership  in  a  grantee,  is  in  the  State,  and,  but  For  the  Fact 
that   the   State  has   thought  best  to  allow  such   grantee  to 
designate   the  course  oF  his  property  aFter  death,   it  would 
always  revert  to  the  State  upon  the  death  oF  the  grantee.« 
Intestate  laws,*  where  the  State  disposes  oF  the  property  oF  the 
deceased,  seem  to  conf  irm  this  view.  Since  a  man,  according  to 
this  View,  is  allowed  to  will  his  property  only  because  it  serves 
the  social  good,  the  State  can  impose  limits  upon  his  ability  to 
dispose  oF  his  property  and  even  to  disown  his  wiFe  and  heirs. 
While  Bigelow's  view  may  seem  extreme,  it  does  represent  the 
logical  Foundation  on  which  much  oF  the  current  law  oF  testa- 
tion rests.  The  most  serious  limit  on  a  man's  right  oF  testation  is 
the  demand  oF  his  widow.  Under  common  law, 

the  widow  was  entitled  to  a  life  interest  in  one  third  of  the  lands 
which  her  husband  owned  during  coverture  [the  period  of  time 
that  the  woman  is  marriedl.  She  took  this  interest  under  the  law 
and  not  by  succession  from  him.  It  was  not  liable  for  his  debts, 

nor  could  he  deprive  her  of  it  by  deed  or  will Dower  (the 

above  mentioned  rightsl  extended  only  to  real  property.  While 
the  wife  took  an  interest  in  intestate  personalty  [persona! 
property  other  than  real  estate]  under  the  Statute  of  Distribu- 
tion, 1670,  there  was  nothing  to  prevent  the  husband  from  giv- 
ing  away  or  bequeathing  all  of  his  personalty  to  others.  Further- 
more,  his  entire  personalty  was  subject  to  his  debts  and  the 

»A  person  who  dies  without  a  will  is  Said  to  die  intestate. 


( 


86 


Jewish  Woman  in  Jexoish  l 


aw 


hiheritaiice  by  Women 


87 


w.dow  s  share  therein  was  a.mputed  only  upon  the  net  t-st.Ue 
after  payment  of  debts.  ...  So  far  as  fit  goes]  dower  .  .  .  fis]  an 
excellent  device  for  the  protection  of  the  surviving  spouse.  She 
IS  protected  against  the  conveyance,  the  will  and  the  debts  of  the 
other  spouse.  But  there  are  a  number  of  serioiis  objections  to  the 
dower  device  particularly  if  it  is  the  sole  measure  for  the  protec- 
tion of  the  surviving  spouse.  While  dower  may  have  worked 
fairly  well  in  the  case  of  more  fortunate  families  in  agrarian 
Society    it  is  not  usuaily  adcquate  in  the  present  condilion  of 
urban  Iiving  in  which  the  average  person  owns  nofhing  except 
personalty  and  perhaps  a  Single  residence.  Even  when  the  hus- 
band  owns  income-producing  really,  a  life  interest  in  one  third 
IS  often  insufficient  for  his  widow's  Support.»  Then,  too,  theex- 
istence  of  dower  impedes  the  realty  transfer  of  real  property  for 
the   wife    may   be    unwilling    or    unable   on    account   «f    in- 
competency  to  join  in  the  husband's  conveyance.  Furfhermore 
after  dower  has  become  consummate,  the  heirs  of  the  land  may 
be  unable  to  find  a  purchaser  who  will  pay  a  reasonable  price 
due  to  the  uncertainties  of  the  life  duration  of  the  doweress   In 
addition,  the  protection  given  against  the  debts  may  be  unfair  to 
the  husband's  creditors.» 

The  present  structure  of  laws  of  estates  varies  radicallv 
from  State  to  State.  Virtually  all  jurisdictions  have  eliminated 
dower  and  introduced  some  modification.  Most  states  "have 
guaranteed  the  surviving  spouse  an  interest  in  both  realty  and 
personalty,  similar  to  the  alternative  to  dower  provisions  just 
mentioned,  subject  to  debts  and  usuaily  to  inter  vivos  disposi^ 
tion  by  owner  spouse.  The  trend  of  legislation  is  in  this  direc- 
tion    '    n  this  latter  type,  a  wife  becomes  heir  to  one-third  of 
her  husband's  estate  and  thereby  loses  her  lien.  An  heir  has  no 
hen,  for  the  obvious  reason  that  to  grant  a  lien  to  an  heir  would 
effect.vely   eliminate  all  possibility  of   transferring  property 
durmg  one  s  lifetime.  Thus,  although  a  wife  has  advantages  in 

»The  widow  does  not  acquire  the  property  l.self .  but  only  the  right  to  use 
it  durmg  her  lifetime.  Hence,  she  cannot  seil  ihe  property  and  disnose  of  the 
money. 


i 


t 


being  considered  an  heir,  she  also  loses  benef its  in  the  presence 
of  creditors  and  gifts  during  the  lifetime  of  the  decedent. 

We  tum  now  to  inheritance  in  Jewish  law.  From  a  super- 
ficial point  of  view,  there  are  no  wills  in  Jewish  law  and  hence 
everyone  dies  intestate— but  this  does  not  mean   that  a  person 
cannot  use  other  devices  to  assign  his  property.  The  legal 
Problems  outlined  in  our  introduction  are  more  serious  in  the 
Jewish  legal  System  than  in  the  Roman  and  Anglo-American. 
Not  only  can  disposition  be  accomplished  only  by  a  Iiving  per- 
son/ but  property  can  only  be  owned  by  a  Iiving  human  being. 
Thus,  at  death,  property  is  completely  removed  not  only  from 
the  control  but  also  from  the  ownership  of  the  deceased  and 
passes  immediately  to  the  heir.*  An  heir  other  than  a  statutory 
heir  can  be  designated  by  the  deceased  only  by  a  deathbed  gift, 
i.e.,  a  gift  causa  mortis.'  Jewish  law  recognizes  a  deathbed  gift 
not  as  a  gift  but  as  the  designation  of  an  heir.*°  Thus,  in  effect, 
there  are  virtually  no  wills  in  Jewish  law.  However,  there  is  an 
infinite  variety  of  contrivances  through  which  a  person  by 
means  of  a  gift  can  transfer  property  to  another,  effective  as  of 
his  death.  This  eliminates  the  necessity  of  a  will  and  circum- 
vents  the  lack  of  wills  in  halakhic  jurisprudence.  Some  of  these 
contrivances  are  revocable  within  the  lifetime  of  the  donor; 
others  are  not,  depending  on  the  nature  of  the  contract  in- 
volved.»*  It  should  be  noted  that  an  act  of  disposition  by  gift 
prior  to  death  involves,  of  necessity,  specific  pieces  of  property 
rather  than  fractional  shares  of  the  total  estate.  Since  assets  re- 
main  stable  when  wealth  is  measured  in  terms  of  land,  but  not 
when  it  is  measured  in  terms  of  personalty,  this  became  a  major 
Problem  when  Society  began  to  shift  more  and  more  from  an 
agrarian  base.  To  circumvent  the  difficulty  of  assigning  frac- 
tional portions  of  the  estate,  a  practice  arose  wherein  the  donor 
obligated  himself  to  pay  a  certain  large  amount  to  the  donee.  A 
conditional   clause   was   inserted   in   the   contract    that   upon 
receipt  of  a  certain  fractional  share  of  the  estate  of  the  donor, 
the  donee  would  renounce  his  claim  upon  the  estate.  This  prac- 
tice, which  makes  it  possible  for  a  donor  to  effectively  will  a 


88 


Jewish  Woman  in  Jewish  lato 


I»: 


Inheritance  hy  Women 


89 


Portion  of  his  estate  to  anyone  he  wishes,  has  become  the  Stan- 
dard way  for  a  father  to  give  a  portion  of  his  estate  to  his 
daughter.'^ 

As  mentioned  earlier,  the  will  per  se  cannot  Function  in 
Jewish  law  for  a  combination  of  reasons.  First  and  foremost, 
property  can  only  be  owned  and  disposed  of  by  a  living  person. 
The  subsequent  use  of  the  State  as  the  guarantor  of  wills,  which 
we  find  in  Anglo-American  law,  cannot  occur  in  Jewish  law 
because  no  superagency  is  granted  such  extensive  control  and 
authority  over  property  in  the  absence  of  any  wrongdoing.  The 
implicit  assumption  of  Anglo-American  inheritance  law  is  that 
title  to  property  ultimately  rests  with  the  State.  In  Jewish  law, 
ultimate  title  to  property  rests  with  the  owner.  All  property 
which  belongs  to  a  person  at  his  death,  and  has  not  been  dis- 
tnbuted  by  gift,  is  immediately  and  automatically  transferred 
to  his  heirs.  If  he  has  sons,  they  take  the  entire  estate,  share  and 
share  alike,  with  a  firstborn  son  taking  a  double  share.''  If  ihere 
are  no  sons,   the  daughters  take  the  estate,  share  and  share 
ahke.'^  In  the  event  that  there  are  no  descendants,  a  complex 
systeni  of  dividing  the  estate  is  used.  The  fact  that  daughters  do- 
not  inhent  if  there  are  sons  seems  prima  facie  to  be  a  gross  in- 
equ.ty,  but  on  deeper  investigation  it  will  be  seen  to  be  a  great 
biessing. 

The  Ketubah  was  designed  to  strengthen  the  basic  unit  of 
Jewish  lie-the  family.  This  was  accomplished  in  two  ways. 
^lrst  of  all,  the  Ketubah  renders  divorce  difficult  by  requiring'a 
man  to  make  a  serious  financial  settlement  with  his  wife  in  case 
of  divorce."  Second,  the  Ketubah  provides  benefits  to  the  wife 
and  daughters  af ter  the  husband's  death,  and  these  benefits  far 
exceed  the  wildest  Imagination  of  anyone  who  has  ever  dealt 
with  dower  or  its  Anglo-American  equivalents. 

An  heir  has  no  lien  on  the  property  of  the  deceased  for  a 
variety  of  reasons,  some  theoretical  and  some  practical.  If  A  has 
a  hen  on  B's  property,  this  presupposes  that  A  has  certain 


i:  .V 


y 


Fl' 


rights  to  B's  property.  During  a  man's  lifetime,  the  only  rights 
to  his  property  are  held  by  himself  and  by  others  to  whom  he 
has  specif ically  assigned  those  rights.  Jewish  law  recognizes  the 
additional  category  of  milveh  haketubah  baTorah  where  cer- 
tain noncontractual  obligations  are  imposed  by  the  Torah  and 
whereby  a  lien  is  created.**  An  heir,  though,  has  no  rights 
whatsoever  to  the  property  of  the  decedent  during  his  lifetime, 
and  hence,  for  instance,  the  heir's  renunciation  of  his  own 
Claims  is  ineffectual/^  and  he  cannot  negotiate  his  future  in- 
heritance. The  inheritance  is  what  the  Halakhah  calls  a  davar 
shelo  bah  /e 'o/am— "rights  which  have  not  yet  come  into  ex- 
istence."*'  Thus,  there  is  no  basis  for  a  lien.  Furthermore,  a  lien 
by  an  heir  would  so  completely  limit  the  transferral  of  property 
in  the  lifetime  of  the  deceased  that  for  practical  considerations 
it  could  not  exist.  Since  an  heir  has  no  lien,  he  takes  only  what 
remains  of  the  decedent's  estate  at  the  time  of  death.  He  thus 
cannot  prevent  gifts  during  the  lifetime  of  the  deceased  and 
gets  no  share  in  these.  Furthermore,  his  share  is  liable  to  all 
debts  incurred  by  the  decedent,  which  have  a  lien  on  the  dece- 

dent's  property.*' 

However,  wife  and  daughter  do  not  function  as  heirs  but  as 
creditors.  Therefore  they  have  a  lien  on  all  the  decedent's 
property,  be  it  real  estate  or  personalty.*  Their  lien  further  ex- 
tends  to  any  real  estate  ever  owned  by  the  decedent  subsequent 
to  his  marriage.'°  Neither  gift  nor  sale  cancels  out  the  lien  of  the 

*Originally,  the  Ketubah  could  be  collected  exclusively  from  real  estate 
because  a  Ketubah,  being  a  debt  to  be  collected  post-mortem,  involved  only  a 
lien,  and  there  is  no  lien  on  personalty.  However,  as  socicty  shiftcd  from  an 
agrarian  base,  the  law  was  changed  so  that  the  Ketubah  and  other  debts  could 
be  collected  from  personalty  in  the  possession  of  the  deceased  at  the  time  of 
his  death.  According  to  the  Rosh,  B.K.  1:19,  this  was  done  in  talmudic  times. 
According  to  most  others,  it  was  done  in  geonic  times.  However,  Maimonides 
points  out  that  if  personalty  is  specifically  mentioned  in  the  Ketubah,  as  it  is 
in  ours  today,  then  it  always  could  have  been  collected  from  personalty.  See 
Maimonides,  Ishut  16:8. 


{ 


90 


Jewish  Wornan  in  Jewish  Law 


luheritance  by  Women 


91 


Ketubah.t  Since  if  two  creditors  with  a  lien  attempt  to  collect, 
the  one  with  the  prior  lien  prevails,  the  wife  precedes  all 
creditors  subsequent  to  her  marriage.^»  Finally,  since  the  wife 
and  daughters  have  the  Status  of  creditors,  their  rights  precede 
the  rights  of  heirs."    • 

The  exact  rights  granted  in  the  Ketubah  are  as  follows." 
The  wife  has  the  Option  of  a  lump-sum  settlement  or  continu- 
ing  Support  from  the  estate  of  the  deceased,  including  usage  of 
the  home  and  household  effects  of  the  deceased,  food,  clothing, 
medical  payments,  personal  needs,  and  burial  costs.  The  sup- 
port  terminates  whenever  the  widow  decides  to  take  her  lump- 
sum  settlement  instead,  or  if  she  remarries.  The  level  of  Sup- 
port is  consistent  with  the  Standard  of  living  of  the  deceased  or 
the  widow,  whichever  is  greater.  The  lump-sum  settlement  is 
specified  in  the  contract  signed  at  the  time  of  marriage,  with  a 
statutory  minimum.  The  daughters  are  maintained.from  the  es- 
tate and  on  reaching  maturity  are  given  a  lump-sum  settlement. 
The  duration  of  the  support  and  the  nature  of  the  lump-sum 
settlement  vary  with  local  custom  and  in  accordance  with  the 
specifications  in  the  Ketubah  written  at  the  time  of  marriage.^* 
The  rights  of  the  wife  and  daughters  are  those  of  creditors 
and  hence  create  a  lien.  Thus  wc  have  the  following  Mishnah: 

One  who  dies  and  leaves  sons  and  daughters,  at  the  time  that  the 
cslatc  is  largc,  the  sons  inherit  and  the  daughters  are  suppprtcd. 
If  the  estate  is  small,  the  daughters  are  supported  and  the  sons 
go  begging  from  door  to  door.'-'' 

The  advantage  to  the  daughters  in  being  considered  creditors 
rather  than  heirs  is  clear.  They  are  guaranteed  support  before 
the  Claims  of  sons  and  creditors  are  satisfied.  They  precede  sons 
because  an  heir  does  not  have  a  lien,  while  daughters  do.  They 
precede   all  creditors  subsequent  to  their  mother's  marriage 

tThis  is  true  about  all  liens  on  real  estate.  They  are  not  cancelletl  eilher  by 
death,  gift,  or  sale. 


i»'' 


because  they  are  prior  creditors.  Thus,  while  daughters  do  not 
receive  an  equivalent  share  in  the  inheritance  of  a  large  estate, 
since  they  receive  only  their  support  or  a  lump-sum  settlement 
unless  the  deceased  has  assigned  them  bis  property,  they  are 
protected  in  the  more  crucial  case  of  a  small  estate.  The  choice 
represents  a  realistic  approach  to  the  needs  of  women.  The  law 
recognizes  that  it  is  easier  and  preferable  for  men  to  go  out  and 
earn  a  living  than  for  women."  Furthermore,  a  father  can  give 
bis  daughter  by  gift  any  portion  of  the  estate  he  wishes.  Since 
the  sons  have  no  lien,  their  rights  of  inheritance  do  not  limit  the 
father's  ability  to  give  a  gift,  and  this  may  be  the  entire  estate, 
excluding  the  widow's  portion.  On  the  other  band,  the  lien  of 
the  wife  and  the  daughter  limits  the  father's  ability  to  transfer 
bis  property  either  to  bis  sons  or  to  strangers.  The  minimum 
Claims  of  wife  and  daughter  must  always  be  satisfied  first. 

Each  of  the  major  practical  problems  with  dower  has  been 
solved  by  the  Halakhah  in  a  different  manner.  The  problem 
that  arises  when  rental  income  from  one-third  of  the  real  estate 
is  insufficient  for  support  is  solved  in  a  tripartite  fashion. 
Originally,  only  real  estate  was  liable  to  the  claims  of  a 
Ketubah;  as  society  ceased  to  have  an  agrarian  base,  however, 
the  Ketubah  could  be  collected  from  all  real  estate  and  per- 
sonalty  owned  by  the  deceased  at  the  time  of  bis  death,  besides 
any  real  estate  owned  during  the  period  of  marriage.  Further- 
more, the  entire  estate  is  liable  for  the  collection  of  the 
Ketubah,  not  the  one-third  of  dower  found  in  common  law. 
Finally,  the  property  of  the  deceased  may  be  sold,  if  necessary, 
to  provide  funds  for  the  collection  of  the  Ketubah. 

Thus,  the  maximum  possible  support  is  provided  for  the 
widow  and  daughters,  at  the  expense  of  the  heirs  and  also  vir- 
tually  all  creditors  of  the  deceased.  While  the  Anglo-American 
legal  System  has  been  solicitous  of  creditors,  the  halakhic 
System  has  not  allowed  its  own  solicitousness  to  interfere  with 
the  rights  of  widows  and  daughters."  Furthermore,  in  a  con- 
flict  between  the  widow  and  daughters,  on  the  one  band,  and 


It^. 


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the  right  of  the  heir  to  dispose  of  his  property,  on  the  olher,  the 
Halakhah  has  again  decided  in  the  favor  of  the  widow  and  the 
daughters.  The  only  exception  to  the  strict  policy  with  respect 
to  the  lien  of  the  Ketubah  was  made  in  connection  with  support 
from  real  estate  of  the  husband  which  has  been  sold.  Here  we 
find  that  the  Mishnah  says:  ''We  do  not  remove  property  from 
a  purchaser  for  the  purpose  of  support  of  wife  and  daughters, 
for  the  smooth  running  of  society/''"  As  the  Talmud  points 
out,  to  do  otherwise  would  so  completely  strangle  the  ability  to 
dispose  of  property  that  it  would  render  impossible  any 
rcasonable  commerce.  However,  this  was  introduced  only  vis- 
a-vis  the  Claims  of  support,  but  not  vis-ä-vis  the  lump-sum 
Claims  included  in  the  Ketubah,  which  can  be  collected  from 
any  real  estate  owned  by  the  deceased  during  the  period  of  his 
marriage.  All  this  indicates  the  lengths  to  which  the  Halakhah 
has  gone  in  order  to  provide  for  the  welfare  of  the  wife  and 
daughters  in  the  structure  of  the  inheritance  laws  and  thercby 
to  strengthen  and  maintain  the  integrity  of  the  family  as  its 
primary  concern. 

According  to  Jewish  law,  a  man  may  assign  his  estate  by 
gift  to  whomever  he  wishes.  The  only  restrictions  on  such  gif ts 
are  the  claims  of  his  wife  and  daughters,  which  are  guaranteed 
against  all  debtors  and  gifts.  After  the  minimum  demands  of 
wife  and  daughter  are  satisfied,  a  man  may  assign  his  estate  to 
whomever  he  wishes.  The  Talmud  says  that  it  is  fitting  and 
proper  to  grant  sufficient  gifts  to  one's  children,  especially  to 
one's  daughter. '•'  However,  if  one  does  not  choose  to  do  so,  he 
is  free  to  dispose  of  his  estate  as  he  wishes. 

Besides  the  practical  benefits  which  we  have  described 
above,  there  are  firm  theoretical  grounds  on  which  the  theory 
of  inheritance  rests.  We  read  a  stränge  tale  in  the  biblical  ac- 
count  of  the  laws  of  inheritance.  Zelophehad  ben  Hepher  had 
five  daughters  and  no  sons.  When  the  land  of  Israel  was  being 
divided,  his  daughters  approached  Moses  with  the  following 
claim:  "Our  father  died  in  the  wilderness,  and  he  was  not  a 


^<". 


i^ 


member  of  the  conspiracy  of  Korah,  but  died  of  his  own  sin 
and  he  left  no  sons.  Why  should  the  name  of  our  father  be 
deleted  from  among  his  family,  for  he  did  not  leave  a  son?  Give 
US  an  inheritance  together  with  our  father's  brothers"  (Num. 
27:3).  The  request  was  granted.  But  how  stränge  was  the  re- 
quest  of  the  daughters  of  Zelophehad!  Why  did  they  demand 
their  father's  rights  rather  than  their  own? 

The  explanation  is  straightforward  and  simple.  One  of  the 
crucial  distinctions  between  a  free  man  and  a  slave  is  that  the 
free  man  is  given  the  opportunity  to  express  himself  through 
his  work.  A  man's  work  becomes  an  extension  of  himself,  and 
it  is  to  this  that  he  dedicates  himself.  When  he  dies,  the  person 
who  takes  over  his  estate  also  takes  over  this  dedication.  It  is 
not  just  an  inheritance  of  money,  it  is  an  inheritance  of  seif. 
Money  and  other  property  can  be  assigned  through  gifts,  but  a 
lifetime  dedication  cannot  be  given  as  a  gift-it  must  be  taken 
over  by  an  heir. 

Thus,  the  Talmud  says:  "As  far  as  inheritance  goes,  a  son  is 
preferable;'°  as  far  as  harvaha  [interpreted  alternatively  as 
"support"  and  "gifts"],  a  daughter  is  preferable."^'  Rabbenu 
Gershom  interprets  this  as  follows:  "As  far  as  inheritance  goes, 
the  son  is  given  preference,  for  he  is  kam  tahtav,  i.e.,  he 
replaces  and  takes  over  the  functions  of  the  father.  As  far  as 
disposition  of  the  estate  by  gift  is  concerned,  a  daughter  is 
given  preference  and  a  larger  share  than  the  sons  because  she  is 
not  in  a  position  to  go  out  and  earn  a  living,  as  it  says:  'The  en- 
tire  glory  of  the  daughter  of  the  king  is  on  the  inside'  [Ps. 
45:14].  A  son,  on  the  other  band,  can  go  and  earn  a  living 
wherever  and  whenever  he  wants  and  is  therefore  given  less." 
A  daughter  must  be  provided  with  the  wherewithal  of  support, 
even  at  a  son's  expense,  because  a  son  is  in  a  better  position  to 
support  himself  than  a  daughter.  However,  when  it  comes  to 
inheritance  of  seif,  a  son  is  in  a  better  position  than  a  daughter 
to  effectively  take  over  the  father's  function.  That  is  why  in- 
heritance applies  not  only  to  property  but  also  to  such  non- 


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i 


Financial  affairs  as  position  in  the  community.^^  Thiis,  thc 
Talmud  says,  unfortunate  is  the  man  who  does  not  leave  a  son 
to  inherit  him  for  his  work  cannot  be  taken  over."  There  is  no 
one  to  succeed  him.  True,  in  individual  cases  the  daughtcrs 
may  be  in  a  better  position  than  the  sons  to  take  over  the 
father's  work,  but  the  law  must  reflect  the  rule  rather  than  the 
exception. 

In  summary,  it  is  true  that  Jewish  women  do  not  inherit 
equally  with  Jewish  men.  The  laws  of  inheritance  reflect  the 
real  needs  of  both  men  and  women.  By  denying  women  the 
Status  of  heirs,  they  were  guaranteed  their  support  from  small 
estates  at  the  expense  of  the  sons.  The  law  recognizes  that  it  is 
easier  and  preferable  for  men  to  support  themselves  than  for 
women  to  do  so.  This  right  of  the  woman  is  guaranteed  by  an 
ironclad  lien,  something  not  granted  to  an  heir.  On  the  other 
hand,  whatever  is  lef t  over  after  Provision  is  made  for  the  sup- 
port of  wife  and  daughters  can  be  disposed  of  by  the  deceased 
in  the  manner  he  sees  fit.  He  may  assign  the  rest  of  his  property 
by  gift  to  his  sons,  his  daughters,  or  anyone  eise.  The  Shulhau 
Aruch  and  Nahlat  Shivah  contain  all  the  legal  forms  necessary  / 
for  the  assignment  of  property  to  a  daughter.  Whatever  is  not 
assigned  by  gift  is  taken  by  the  heir,  i.e.,  the  son.  An  heir  is  one 
who  takes  over  the  father's  function;  he  is  an  inheritor  not  of 
money  but  of  seif.  This  was  the  complaint  of  the  daughters  of 
Zelophehad.  Why  should  our  father  suffer?  Let  us  take  over 
his  portion.  The  laws  of  inheritance  are  made  primarily  for  the 
deceased,  not  for  the  living.  The  living  have  no  right,  per  se,  to 
the  property  of  the  deceased  other  than  those  the  deceased 
himself  assigns. 

When  the  Jewish  people  entered  the  land  of  Israel,  the  land 
was  divided  into  twelve  sections.  Each  tribe,  with  the  exception 
of  Levi,  was  given  a  portion.  These  portions  were  subdivided 
among  the  individual  families  and  then  among  the  men  over 
twenty.  Women  were  not  included  in  the  division  for  a  variety 
of  reasons,  both  theoretical  and  practical.  If  a  man  of  the  tribe 


,1 


■  i 


« 
I 

i! 


\ 


of  Judah  married  a  woman  of  the  tribe  of  Benjamin  and  had  a 
child,  that  child  became  a  member  of  the  tribe  of  Judah.  To  give 
women  a  portion  of  the  land  and  at  the  same  time  allow  inter- 
marriage  between  the  tribes^*  would  have  wreaked  havoc  with 
the  entire  tribal  System.  On  the  other  band,  to  prohibit  inter- 
marriage  would  have  been  suicidal  for  the  Jewish  people,  for  it 
would  have  split  them  into  twelve  separate  peoples. 

In  addition,  there  are  deeper  theoretical  grounds. 
Maimonides  says:  "Why  did  the  tribe  of  Levi  not  acquire  a 
share  in  the  land  of  Israel  with  the  other  tribes?  It  is  because 
Levi  was  designated  to  serve  God  and  perform  theTemple  Ser- 
vice and  to  teach  God's  law  to  the  people."^*  The  land  was 
given  to  those  whose  basic  task  in  lif  e  was  to  tili  the  seil.  The 
tribe  of  Levi  was  excluded;  the  earlier  discussion  explains  why 
women  were  also  excluded. 

Let  US  now  summarize  our  discussion  of  the  financial  posi- 
tion of  women.  The  law  attempted  to  find  a  middle  path 
between  two  extremes.  On  the  one  band,  a  woman's  essential 
task  is  to  be  found  in  the  building  of  a  family  and  in  the  private 
sector  of  life.  "The  entire  glory  of  the  daughter  of  the  king  lies 
on  the  inside"  underlies  a  significant  body  of  halakhic  and  ag- 
gadic  thinking.  On  the  other  band,  a  wonnan  should  be  given 
the  opportunity,  if  she  so  wishes,  to  pursue  her  own  financial 
affairs.  The  laws  were  set  up  to  guarantee  the  possibility  of  the 
woman  remaining  within  the  privacy  of  the  home  environ- 
ment,  while  at  the  same  time  allowing  the  woman  who  did  not 
choose  this  path  all  the  rights  necessary  for  the  pursuit  of  her 
choice. 


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l\^ 


16 


The  Marriage  Contract 


We  shall  now  turn  our  attention  to  the  area  of  marriage  and 
divorce.  In  Jewish  law,  marriage  and  divorce  are  not  sacra- 
ments,  as  in  Christianity.  They  are  viewed  as  contracts,  and  in 
many  respects  they  are  the  paradigms  on  which  all  other  con- 
tracts  are  patterned.»  The  Halakhah  recognizes  two  types  of 
contracts:  the  kinyan  issur,  a  contract  whose  basic  purpose  is 
to  effect  a  change  in  personal  or  ritual  Status,  and  the  kimjan 
mamon,  a  contract  whose  basic  purpose  is  to  effect  a  monetary 
change.^  The  word  kinyan  has  been  totally  misunderstood  by 
many  contemporary  critics.  It  does  not  simply  refer  to  f  inancial 
ownership,  but  rather  connotcs  a  change  in  Status.  This  change 
can  be  ritualistic,  as  is  the  case  in  many  mishnayot  in  Maaser^ 
Sheni,'  or  f inancial,  as  in  a  variety  of  other  cases. 

Furthermore,  the  word  kinyan  has  been  used  metaphorical- 
ly  in  biblical  and  rabbinic  writings  to  indicate  the  establishment 
of  a  close  and  intimate  relationship.  Thus  the  Bible  says:  ''This 
people  that  you  have  acquired  [kanitah]"  (Exod.  15:16),  in- 
dicating  the  establishment  by  God  of  His  special  relationship 
with  the  Jewish  people.  The  same  is  true  throughout  the  Book 
of  Proverbs.  Pirkei  Avot  says:  "The  Holy  One,  blessed  he  He, 
has  five  kinyanim  in  this  world:  Torah,  heaven  and  earth,' 
Abraham,  the  Jewish  people,  and  the  Temple."^  This  again 
clearly  utilizes  the  word  kinyan  in  the  sense  of  the  establish- 
ment of  a  deep  and  intimate  bond. 

The  use  of  kinyan  in  reference  to  marriage  combines  both 
meanings.  Marriage  establishes  a  close,  intimate  relationship, 
and  is  also  a  contract  which  results  in  a  change  of  ritual  status; 


i.e.,  it  is  a  kinyan  issur  and  not  a  kinyan  mamon.  True,  many 
financial  consequences  and  obligations  result  from  the  ritual 
change,  but  the  purpose  of  the  kinyan  is  merely  to  effect  a 
ritual  change.  If  this  is  not  abundantly  clear,  a  simple  examina- 
tion  of  the  law  of  contracts  will  prove  the  point.  If  marriage 
were  a  kinyan  mamon  and  the  woman  the  acquired  object,  as 
some  critics  claim,  she  would  write  the  contract  in  a  case  of 
marriage  through  contract,  since  in  Jewish  law  the  contract  is 
written  by  the  one  who  receives  the  money,  not  by  the  one  who 
gives  it~by  the  seller,  never  the  purchaser.  However,  this  is  not 
the  case  with  marriage,  since  it  is  the  man  who  writes  the  con- 
tract.^ Many  other  aspects  of  the  marriage  contract  have  also 
led  the  commentators  to  State  explicitly  that  a  wife  is  not  the 
husband's  property.*^ 

This  view  contrasts  sharply  with  the  historic  position  of 
women  in  English  law,  where  a  woman  was  literally  her  hus- 
band' s  possession.  Thus,  until  1882  a  woman  could  not  enter  a 
contract  or  even  own  property.  Furthermore,  until  1891  a  hus- 
band  had  complete  dominion  over  his  wife,  including  the  right 
to  beat  her  and  limit  her  freedom  of  movement.^ 

None  of  this  is  true  in  Jewish  law,  where  a  married  woman 
may  contract  and  own  property.  A  husband  was  forbidden  to 
restrict  his  wife's  freedom  of  movement  "for  she  is  not  in  jail, 
where  she  may  not  come  and  go.''*  Not  only  was  beating  a  wife 
frowned  upon  and  forbidden,  but  it  was  a  valid  ground  for 
divorce.' 

The  rules  of  contract  are  generally  the  same  for  both  types 
of  contract.  This  is  derived  by  the  gezerah  shavah  "ki\\ah, 
kihah  misdei  Ephron."^^  Thus,  although  a  purely  ritual  change 
is  effected,  money  is  the  instrument  of  the  contract.  The  es- 
sence  of  the  gezerah  shavah  is  that  the  formalism  of  financial 
contracts  is  utilized  as  the  means  of  effecting  ritual  change. 

Jewish  contract  law  differs  greatly  from  contract  law  in  the 
United  States.  In  American  law,  the  execution  of  a  contract  is  a 
bilateral  act.  Halakhic  contracts,  on  the  other  band,  are  uni- 


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laterally  executed.  A  contract  may  require  the  consent  of  both 
parties,  but  it  is  executed  by  only  one  party.  Thus,  in  selling  a 
house,  the  seilen  himself  draws  up  the  contract,  has  it  wit- 
nessed,  and  delivers  it  to  the  buyer."  The  buyer  plays  only  a 
passive  role;  i.e.,  he  accepts  the  contract,  and  by  so  doing  ac- 
quires  title  to  the  property  and  bccomes  obligated  to  pay  the 
specified  sum  of  money  to  the  seller.  Hence,  to  ask  why  the 
Jewish  marriage  contract  is  unilateral  really  misses  the  point, 
for  there  simply  are  no  bilaterally  executed  contracts  in  Jewish 
law.  Furthermore,  while  the  act  of  acceptance  is  physically  pas- 
sive, it  is  a  legally  active  role.  The  kiriyan  is  finalized  not  by  the 
simple  act  of  giving  the  contract  or  of  giving  money,  but  by  an 
act  of  acquisition  on  the  part  of  the  recipient.  Holding  the  writ- 
ten  contract,  money,  or  ring  for  the  purpose  of  effecting  the  ki- 
nyan  is  a  legal  act  of  acquisition  which  completes  the  kiuyan. 
Legally,  the  recipient  is  active. 

The  only  remaining  question  pcrtains  to  determining  which 
party  is  the  initiator  of  the  contract  in  marriage.  Since  no  con- 
tract in  Jewish  law  is  bilateral,  this  is  really  an  either/or  ques- 
tion. The  Bible  is  most  explicit  on  the  subject:  the  man  is  the  in- 
itiator of  the  contract.*^ 

It  may  be  that  this  choice  was  entirely  arbitrary,  as  is  often 
the  casc  with  certain  kinds  of  laws  where  an  either/or  decision 
is  required.  For  example,  in  the  United  States,  the  law  requires 
traffic  to  keep  to  the  right-hand  side  of  the  road,  while  in 
England  traffic  must  keep  to  the  left.  Both  choices  are  arbitrary 
since  neither  rule  is  intrinsically  superior  to  the  other. 

At  this  point  R.  Shimon  appears  again.  The  Talmud  says: 
"Why  is  it  that  the  Torah  gave  the  initiative  to  the  man  rather 
than  to  the  woman?  For  it  is  the  nature  of  a  man  to  be  active  in 
the  pursuit  of  a  wife  rather  than  for  a  woman  to  pursue  a 
husband."»^  The  Talmud  adds  that  an  unmarried  man  is  more 
active  than  an  unmarried  woman  in  pursuit  of  a  mate  because 
he  feels  more  incomplete.  This  basic  emotion,  continues  R. 
Shimon,  can  be  traced  back  to  the  story  of  creation,  where 


woman  was  taken  from  man.  Thus,  when  presented  with  an  ar- 
bitrary, either/or  choice,  the  Halakhah  codified  the  man's  basic 
emotional  drive  to  marriage.^*  Man  is  driven  to  marry  by  his 
feeling  of  incompleteness  more  so  than  is  a  woman.  From  a  per- 
sonal and  Spiritual  point  of  view,  men  need  marriage  more  than 
do  women.** 

Is  this  part  of  R.  Shimon's  general  theory  rejected  by  the 
rabbis?  Most  commentators  seem  to  think  that  R.  Shimon's 
Position  is  universally  accepted  in  this  matter.  His  position  is 
rejected  in  other  instances  when  he  introduces  the  nonexplicit 
background  of  the  law  into  the  legal  structure  itself.'* 
However,  when  he  merely  provides  background  to  a  law  ex- 
plicitly  stated  in  the  Bible,  his  position,  they  say,  has  not  been 
rejected.'^  A  few  disagree  and  view  the  whole  choice  as  ar- 
bitrary. "^ 

Divorce,  like  marriage,  is  a  contract  and  hence  unilateral. 
That  the  man  is  the  initiator  of  the  divorce  contract  is  only  one 
example  of  the  equation  between  the  contract  of  marriage  and 
the  contract  of  divorce  that  occurs  continually  throughout  the 
laws  of  marriage  and  divorce.  Marriage  and  divorce  are  typical 
contracts  which  are  unilaterally  executed.'" 

From  a  more  practical  point  of  view,  divorce  was  rendered 
difficult  to  Protect  the  woman.*'  Because  of  the  Ketubah,  a  man 
who  divorced  his  wife  was  burdened  with  a  stiff  payment  (the 
statutory  minimum  is  a  lump  sum  equivalent  to  one  year's  Sup- 
port). However,  this  is  not  to  say  that  a  woman  was  always 
protected.  Perverse  people  have  a  way  of  wreaking  havoc  with 
other  people's  lives.  The  Ketubah,  in  the  hands  of  a  perverse 
wife,  can  be  a  curse  to  the  husband.^^  A  man  who  cannot  afford 
the  payments  of  the  Ketubah  is  burdened  with  his  wife,  come 
what  may.  Similarly,  a  perverse  husband  or  wife  can  utilize  the 
contractual  nature  of  divorce  to  terrorize  his  partner  by  refus- 
ing  to  grant  a  divorce  when  one  is  in  order.  These  are  not  the 
only  cases  where  perverse  people  can  ruin  other  people's  lives, 
but  they  certainly  are  among  the  most  agonizing.^'  As  with  all 


I 


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similar  occurrenceS;  it  is  the  task  of  Jewish  courts  to  deal  with 
such  perversities.  In  the  case  of  an  unwilHng  husband,  the 
court  can  exercise  all  its  power  to  Force  the  granting  of  a 
divorce  when  it  decides  that  one  is  in  order. 

While  the  man  is  the  initiator  of  the  contract  of  divorce,  this 
does  not  mean  that  the  woman  is  lef t  completely  at  his  mercy. 
There  are  many  claims  by  a  woman  which  constitute  valid 
grounds  for  divorce.  A  woman  may  approach  a  beth-din  with  a 
claim  against  her  husband.  If  the  beth-din  finds  that  her  claim 
justifies  her  request  for  a  divorce,  it  will  order  her  husband  to 
initiate  the  contract  of  divorce,  and  it  can  use  all  its  power  to 
force  him  to  do  so.  Maimonides  says: 

If  one  who  is  obligated  by  law  to  divorce  his  wife  refuses  to  do 
so,  a  Jewish  court  at  any  place  and  at  any  time  may  beat  him  un- 
til  he  says:  "I  am  willing."  At  this  point,  he  may  write  the  ^et 
[contract  of  divorce]  and  it  is  a  valid  contract." 

On  the  other  band,  a  woman  may  not  initially  approach  a 
non-Jewish  court  to  force  her  husband  to  grant  her  a  Jewish 
divorce.  However,  if  a  beth-din  Orders  a  Jewish  divorce  and  the 
non-Jewish  court  merely  enforces  the  decision  of  the  beth-din, 
the  divorce  is  valid.  Maimonides  says: 

• 

Similarly,  if  the  non-Jewish  court  bcat  him  and  told  him:  "Do 
what  the  Jewish  court  instructs  you,"  and  the  Jewish  court  pres- 
sured  him  through  the  non-Jewish  court  until  he  executed  a 
Jewish  divorce,  it  is  a  valid  divorce.  If  the  non-Jewish  court,  on 
its  own,  forced  him  to  write  the  ^ct,  since  one  is  required,  it  is 
valid  according  to  Torah  law,  but  was  disqualified  by  rabhinic 
enactment  [so  that  a  woman  would  first  approach  the  rabhinic 
court]." 

Thus,  it  is  no  surprise  that  in  Israel,  where  rabhinic  courts 
are  given  recognition  by  the  State,  very  few  men  manage  to 
avoid  granting  divorces  to  their  wives  when  ordered  to  do  so. 


I 


The  Marriage  Contract 


101 


In  cases  where  they  are  able  to  avoid  compliance  with  the 
court's  order,  it  is  because  the  State  of  Israel  does  not  allow  the 
füll  measure  of  coercion  condoned  by  rabhinic  courts.  Rabhinic 
courts  in  Israel  can  order  a  man  to  be  placed  in  jail  for  ref using 
to  comply  with  their  order,  but  Jewish  law  also  allows  corporal 
punishment  to  be  enforced  upon  a  man  until  he  agrees  to 
divorce  his  wife.^*  In  the  United  States,  the  Situation  is  far  from 
ideal.  True,  it  is  only  in  unusual  cases  that  rabhinic  courts  are 
ineffective  in  extracting  divorces  from  unwilling  husbands,  but 
we  must  explore  more  ef fective  techniques  to  deal  with  such  in- 
stances.  The  imperative  to  fight  injustice  includes  the  duty  of 
preventing  abuses  of  the  judicial  System  by  the  unscrupulous. 
However,  when  fighting  abuses,  care  must  be  exercised  not  to 
destroy  the  entire  System  in  the  process.  Contractual  relations 
in  general,  and  marital  relations  to  an  even  greater  degree,  are 
intensely  personal  matters  and  can  neither  be  created  nor  dis- 
pensed  with  except  by  the  parties  involved.  The  notion  of  a 
superagency  that  creates  or  dispenses  with  another  person's 
personal  Status  is  entirely  repulsive  to  the  Jewish  mind. 

Much  confusion  has  resulted  from  the  misunderstanding  of 
certain  fundamental  differences  between  Jewish  law  and  the 
Anglo-American  legal  System.  Some  legal  Systems  are  state- 
oriented.  Others  are  oriented  to  people  and  contracts.  As  was 
pointed  out  earlier,  Anglo-American  inheritance  law  is  based 
on  the  assumption  that  the  State  is  the  ultimate  owner  of  all  / 
property.  Similarly,  the  State  confers  personal  Status,  the  State  / 
declares  a  couple  man  and  wife,  and  the  State  terminates  their 
marriage  through  divorce.  Through  adoption  laws,  the  State 
can  declare  a  man  to  be  the  father  of  a  child  to  whom  he 
otherwise  bears  no  relation. 

Jewish  law,  on  the  other  band,  is  contract-oriented.  Each  \ 
man  is  the  owner  of  his  own  property.  Furthermore,  he  is  total-/ 
ly  responsible  for  his  own  personal  Status.  Marriage  is  a  con- 
tract   created   by    the    willing   consent    of    both    parties    and 
finalized  by  a  simple  kinyan  in  the  presence  of  two  witnesses. 


y 


► 


102 


Jeivish  VJoman  in  Jeioish  Law 


Divorce  is  similarly  accomplished  by  the  parties  involved  in  the 
presence  of  two  witnesses. 


17 


Solutions  to  Problems  of  Agunah 


The  past  Century  has  seen  various  attempts  to  solve  the 
Problem  presented  by  husbands  refusing  to  grant  divorces  to 
their  vvives  when  a  beth-din  determines  that  one  is  in  order. 
Unfortunately,  the  proposed  Solutions  were  made  by  persons 
not  sufficiently  versed  in  the  Jewish  marriage  and  divorce  laws 
and  thus  were  rejected  by  the  rabbinate  as  being  inconsistent 
with  halakhic  requirements. 

On  July  29,  1884,  secular  divorce  was  introduced  in  France. 
A  Short  time  subsequent  to  that  date,  a  Rabbi  Michael  Weil  of 
Paris  declared  that  upon  receipt  of  a  secular  divorce  a  Jewish 
woman  would  be  automatically  divorced  from  her  husband  in 
the  eyes  of  Jewish  law.  He  based  this  on  a  series  of  talmudic 
Statements.  Essentially  he  claimed  that  the  contemporary  rab- 
binate had  the  power  to  annul  any  marriage.  Thus,  he  said,  the 
rabbinate  of  Paris  would  annul  all  marriages  terminated  in 
secular  courts. 

The  response  of  the  rabbinic  authorities  to  this  proposal 
was  immediate.»  They  asserted  that  while  the  power  of  annul- 
ment  allows  the  rabbinate  to  introduce  certain  very  limited 
changes  in  the  marriage  and  divorce  ceremonies,  Jewish  mar- 
riage can  be  terminated  only  by  a  Jewish  divorce  or  by  the 
death  of  one  of  the  parties.  Furthermore,  the  legislative 
prerogative  granted  to  rabbinic  authorities  came  to  an  end  with 
the  termination  of  the  talmudic  period.  Among  the  many 
reasons  the  legislative  prerogative  came  to  a  close  is  the  fact 
that  subsequent  to  the  talmudic  period  no  beth-din  was  univer- 
sally  accepted  by  all  Jews,  and  universal  acceptance  is  a  sine 
qua  non  for  legislation.^  Hence,  no  legislative  prerogative  to 

103 


/ 


104 


Jewish  Woman  in  Jewish  Law 


Solutions  to  Problems  of  Agunah 


205 


change  the  basic  marriage  and  divorce  laws  was  granted  to  any 
rabbi  or  group  of  rabbis  subsequcnt  to  the  talmudic  period; 
even  in  that  period,  no  rabbi  or  group  of  rabbis  was  allowed  to 
terminate  a  marriage  other  than  by  a  Jewish  divorce  or  on  the 
death  of  one  of  the  two  parties. 

This  decision  was  accepted  by  the  entire  French  rabbinate. 
Rabbi  Weil,  however,  put  forth  another  proposal.  He  sug- 
gested  that  all  marriages  henceforth  be  made  conditional.  Thus, 
during  the  marriage  ceremony  the  groom  would  declare: 
"Behold  you  are  wed  to  me.  However,  if  the  judges  of  the  State 
shall  divorce  us  and  I  not  give  you  a  Jewish  divorce,  this  mar- 
riage will  be  retroactively  invalid."  Thus,  upon  refusal  by  the 
husband  to  grant  a  Jewish  divorce,  the  marriage  would  be 
retroactively  dissolved.  The  couple  would  never  have  been 
married  in  the  eyes  of  Jewish  law  and  hence  no  Jewish  divorce 
would  be  required. 

Rabbi  Tzaddok  HaKohen  of  Paris  turned  to  Rabbi  Isaac 
Elchanan  Spector  of  Kovno,  the  leader  of  the  European  rab- 
binate, for  his  opinion.  In  a  letter  dated  4  Sivan  5753  (1893),  R. 
Isaac  Elchanan  reiterated  the  initial  Opposition  to  annulment. 
He  then  proceeded  to  rule  unequivocally  against  the  proposed 
conditional  marriage. 

After  Rabbi  Tzaddok  HaKohen  passed  away  in  1906,  the 
movement  to  make  all  marriages  in  France  conditional  was  in- 
itiated  again  by  Rabbi  Joseph  Lehman  of  Paris.  Rabbi  Yehudah 
Lubetsky,  also  of  Paris,  wrote  a  responsum  detailing  the 
reasoning  behind  R.  Isaac  Elchanan's  position  and  called  on  the 
entire  European  rabbinate  for  support.  When  the  European 
rabbinate  unanimously  opposed  the  proposed  conditional  mar- 
riage, the  matter  was  dropped.  The  entire  correspondence  was 
subsequently  published  in  Vilna  in  1930  under  the  title  Ain 
Tnai  bi'Nisuin  (There  Are  No  Conditional  Marriages).  This 
volume  contained  responsa  from  Rabbi  Chaim  Ozer 
Grodzenski  of  Vilna,  Rabbi  David  Friedman  of  Karlin,  Rabbi 
David    Zvi   Hoffman  of  Berlin,   Rabbi  Shlomoh  Breuer  of 


Frankfort,  Rabbi  Moshe  Danishevsky  of  Slobodka,  Rabbi 
Chaim  Soloveichik  of  Brisk,  Rabbi  Meir  Simhah  HaKohen  of 
Dvinsk,  Rabbi  Yehiel  Epstein-(the  author  of  the  Arukh  ha- 
Shulhan),  Rabbi  Menahem  Krakowski,  and  a  host  of  other  rab- 
binic  luminaries. 

The  Opposition  to  the  proposed  conditional  marriage 
revolved  around  the  fundamental  differences  between  financial 
and  personal  contracts.  One  can  stipulate  any  condition  he 
wishes  in  a  financial  contract,  but  marriage  is  a  very  unique 
type  of  contract.  The  underlying  assumption  behind  a  large 
part  of  Jewish  law  is  that  cohabitation  is  an  unconditional  act. 

The  etiquette  required  of  Jewish  marital  relations  demands 
that  they  express  a  complete,  unconditional  commitment  by 
each  party  to  the  other.  This  translates  into  a  contractual  as- 
sumption that  a  couple  that  has  lived  together  as  man  and  wife 
has  waived  all  conditions  in  their  marital  contract,  and  that  the 
marriage  cannot  henceforth  be  revoked  by  a  failure  of  either^ 
party  to  abide  by  the  conditions  of  the  contract.  The  few  excep-j 
tions  to  this  rule  are  so  limited  and  well  defined  that  they  can-1 
not  be  extended  to  cover  the  suggested  conditional  marriage. 
Since  the  entire  scholarly  rabbinic  world  subscribed  to  this 
thesis,  the  proposal  was  dropped,  and  most  rabbis  feit  that  the 
reasoning  behind  the  Opposition  precluded  any  such  method 
for  solving  the  divorce  problem. 

The  next  proposal  came  in  1930,  from  the  American 
Conservative  rabbinate.  Louis  Epstein  of  Boston  suggested 
that,  subsequent  to  every  marriage,  the  husband  appoint  his 
wife  as  an  agent  to  execute  a  divorce  on  his  behalf.  Thus,  if  the 
husband  disappeared  or  refused  to  grant  a  divorce,  the  wife, 
acting  as  his  agent,  would  be  enabled  to  execute  a  divorce  on 
his  behalf.  The  woman  would,  in  effect,  divorce  herseif. 

The  proposal  was  made  in  a  book  entitled  Hatzaah  Lemaan 
Takanat  Ägunot.  Epstein  realized  that  such  agency  to  execute  a 
divorce  presented  serious  problems.  The  thrust  of  his  book  lay 
in  his  attempt  to  demonstrate  the  halakhic  propriety  of  such 


\ 


I 


/ 


r 


106 


Jewish  Woman  in  Jeivish  Law 


Solutions  to  Problems  of  Agunah 


107 


agency.  In  the  book  he  called  upon  ihe  vvorld  rabbinate  to 
evaluate  the  merits  of  his  idea.  In  1935  the  Rabbinical  As- 
sembly,  the  rabbinic  body  of  Conservative  Judaism,  voted  to 
accept  Epstein's  proposal  . 

Again,  the  vvorld  rabbinate  responded  with  unanimous  dis- 
approval.  At  a  meeting  in  New  York,  convened  by  the  Agudat 
ha-Rabanim,  various  halakhic  presentations  were  made, 
demonstrating  the  impossibility  of  the  appointment  of  an  agent 
in  such  manner  to  execute  a  divorce.  Furthermore,  it  was 
pointed  out,  if  a  husband  subsequently  refused  to  grant  his 
wife  a  divorce,  he  could  simply  dismiss  her  as  his  agent,  and 
hence  not  only  was  Epstein's  proposal  halakhically  unsound, 
but  also  of  very  little  practical  benefit. 

A  more  serious  objection  was  presented  to  the  meeting  by 
Rabbi  Moshe  Soloveichik  of  New  York.  His  reasoning  was 
similar  to  that  of  the  earlier  rejection  of  the  Paris  proposal  of 
conditional  marriages.  Cohabitation  is  an  unconditional  act  ex- 
pressive of  unconditional  commitment.  Thus  the  appointment 
of  an  agent  for  a  divorce  is  nullified  by  cohabitation.  Further- 
more, any  conditional  divorce  is  nullified  by  cohabitation,  and 
just  as  conditional  marriages  cannot  be  utilized,  so  too  con- 
ditional divorces  cannot  be  utilized.  In  his  address  Rabbi 
Soloveichik  quoted  the  words  of  Maimonides: 

« 

If  he  [the  husband]  was  together  with  his  wife  after  he  ap- 
pointed  the  scribe  to  write,  or  the  witnesses  to  sign,  or  the  agent 
to  deliver  the  divorce  to  her,  they  may  not  proceed.  It  is  k)gical 
to  conclude  this.  A  divorce  which  has  already  been  delivered  to 
her  is  rendered  invalid  when  they  are  together,  because  we  as- 
sume  that  they  had  marital  relations  [which  invalidales  all 
previous  divorce  proceedings].  Certainly  a  divorce  which  has 
not  been  written  yet  is  rendered  invalid.  If  the  scribe  wrote  the 
divorce,  the  witnesses  signed  it,  and  the  agent  delivered  it  after 
they  were  together,  the  divorce  is  invalid.* 

The  effect  of  this  law  is  to  render  impossible  the  Initiation  of 
any  divorce  proceeding  at  the  time  of  marriage.  ^ 


As  a  result  of  the  unanimous  protest  by  the  world  rab- 
binate, Epstein's  proposal  was  shelved.  The  entire  world-wide 
correspondence  was  published  in  1937  in  a  volume  entitled 
Le'Dor  Aharon,  In  1940,  embittered  by  the  rabbinate's  rejec- 
tion of  his  proposal,  Epstein  reiterated  his  Suggestion  in  a  book 
entitled  Le'Shaalat  ha-Agunah,  Attempting  to  defend  his  Posi- 
tion against  his  critics,  he  maintained  that  his  method  was  a 
valid  means  of  appointing  an  agent,  but  he  completely  ignored 
the  complaint  of  Rabbi  Moshe  Soloveichik  that  marital  rela- 
tions render  all  previous  divorce  proceedings  invalid.  The  book 
did  not  succeed  in  changing  the  minds  of  the  rabbis  whom  Ep- 
stein wished  to  convince,  and  his  proposal  has  never  been  re- 
vived. 

In  1967  Dr.  Eliezer  Berkovits  of  Skokie,  Illinois,  published 
a  book  entitled  T'nai  bi'Nisuin  Ve'Cet  (Conditional  Marriages 
and  Divorces)  in  which  he  asked  the  world  rabbinate  to  reopen 
the  question  of  conditional  marriage.  The  book  elicited  virtual- 
ly  no  response  from  the  Orthodox  rabbinate  since  his  proposal 
was  nothing  more  than  a  slight  modification  of  the  earlier  Paris 
proposals.  There  was  nothing  substantially  new  in  his  book. 

In  response  to  a  request  from  Rabbi  Dov  Katz,  director  of 
Courts,  Office  of  Religion  of  the  State  of  Israel,  Rabbi 
Menachem  M.  Kasher  issued  a  responsum  in  Noam.  After  a 
detailed  analysis  of  Berkovits's  book,  Rabbi  Kasher  concludes: 

In  short,  the  author  has  not  proposed  anything  new  .  .  .  to 
what  was  proposed  in  Paris,  which  proposals  were  unequivocal- 
ly  rejected  by  the  rabbinic  leaders. 

I  have  analyzed  the  work  at  length  to  show  that  in  the  essen- 
tial  point  which  is  of  practical  significance  in  the  proposed  con- 
ditional marriage,  he  has  clearly  not  proposed  anything  signifi- 
cant.  He  writes  only  of  his  doubts,  his  searching  and  secking  in 
the  style  of  "for  example,  we  might  consider  such  and  such." 

Even  if  he  had  advanced  a  brand-new  type  of  conditional 
marriage,  fundamentally  different  from  the  Paris  proposal 
[which  in  fact  he  did  not  do]  this  would  not  alter  the  Situation. 
The  rabbinic  leaders  have  rejected  all  conditional  marriages  and 


X 


l 


108 


Jexüish  Woman  in  Jeioish  Law 


Solutions  to  Problems  of  Agunah 


109 


have  decided  that  under  no  circumstances  can  one  terminate  a 
marriage  without  a  divorce.  .  .  . 

I  am  especially  shocked  that  the  author  is  coinplctely 
oblivious  to  the  fact  that  thirty  years  ago  all  rabbinic  leaders  of 
the  day  issued  a  decision,  which  was  countersigned  by  over  one 
thousand  rabbis,  in  which  they  forbade  and  imposed  a  herem 
[decree  of  exconrimunication]  against  anyone  who  wishes  to  in- 
troduce  the  delivery  of  a  get  by  means  of  an  agent  appointed  at 
the  time  of  the  wedding.  They  included  in  this  herem  also  the 
proposal  of  conditional  marriage.  This  fact  is  well  known  in 
America  and  was  printed  in  the  book  entitled  le-Dor  Aharon. 
Furthcrmore,  Rabbi  Yehiel  Yaakov  Weinberg,  who  wrotc  a  let- 
ter  of  quasi-approval  to  Dr.  Berkovits's  book,  has  writtcn  to  me 
as  follows: 

"  At  the  time  that  I  wrote  my  letter,  I  was  unaware  of  the  dis- 
cussion  that  had  occurred  in  America.  .  .  .  Furthermore  I  am 
surprised  that  the  author  [i.e.,  Dr.  Berkovits],  who  certainly 
knew  of  the  entire  correspondcnce  in  this  matter,  draggcd  me 
into  this  controversy.  Because  of  my  poor  health,  I  am  not 
capable  now  of  dealing  with  a  matter  of  such  serious  implica- 
tions  and  I  regret  ever  having  written  the  letter  to  him."* 

Dr.  Berkovits's  proposal  was  completely  rejected  by  the 
Orthodox  rabbinate.  The  Conservative  rabbinate,  faced  with 
the  utter  impracticality  of  its  own  proposal  of  1954,  voted  in 
1968  to  adopt  Dr.  Berkovits's  proposal. 

The  various  proposed  Solutions  have  placed  the  essence  of 
the  problem  in  sharp  focus.  In  Judaisnn,  marriage  is  a  contract 
initiated  and  terminated  only  by  the  parties  involved.  No  court 
was  ever  given  the  right  to  alter  the  marital  Status  of  a  specific 
individual.  The  rabbis  of  the  talmudic  period  were  granted  cer- 
tain  exceptional  powers  to  establish  or  alter  certain  rules  of  the 
contract  under  the  power  of  ajki'inhuh  rabanan  kiddushifi 
minay,^  but  these  were  universal  rules  of  contract.  The  Status 
of  a  specific  person  could  not  be  determined  by  a  court  on  an 
individual  basis.  A  marriage,  once  finalized,  could  be  ter- 
minated only  by  divorce  or  by  death.  Furthermore,  the  absolute 


seriousness  of  marital  relations  has  ruled  out  the  possibility  of 

conditional  marriage  and  divorce. 

The  only  remedy  that  seems  to  be  consistent  with  Jewish 

law  is  the  one  specif  ically  suggested  by  the  Talmud— the  use  of 

the  secular  judicial  System.  Outside  Israel  this  means  the  en- 

forcement  by  the  secular  courts  of  the  directives  of  a  rabbinic 

court— a  beth-din. 

In  1954  Professor  Saul  Lieberman  proposed  to  the  Rab- 

binical  Assembly  that  the  Solution  to  the  divorce  problem  lay  in 
the  Ketubah.  He  proposed  the  inclusion  in  the  Ketubah  of  a 
Statement  wherein  the  husband  and  wife,  at  the  time  of  mar- 
riage, would  accept  the  authority  of  the  religious  court  of  the 
Rabbinical  Assembly:  "We  authorize  the  Beth-din  to  impose 
such  terms  of  compensation  as  it  may  see  fit  for  failure  to  res- 
pond  to  its  summons  to  carry  out  its  decision."  In  this 
proposal,  all  aspects  of  conditional  marriage  and  divorce  are 
dropped.  It  was  hoped  that  a  financial  penalty  enforceable  in 
the  civil  court  would  coerce  unwilling  husbands  to  grant  to 
their  wives  religious  divorces. 

The  response  of  the  Orthodox  rabbinate  to  this  proposal 
was  negative.  There  were  a  number  of  objections  to 
Lieberman's  proposal.  The  major  one  was  that  the  contract 
wherein  the  husband  or  wife  agreed  to  pay  whatever  compen- 
sation the  beth-din  would  impose  was  halakhically 
questionable.  A  contract,  according  to  the  Halakhah,  is  re- 
quired  to  be  more  specific.  Most  Orthodox  scholars  feit  that 
such  an  indeterminate  commitment  as  was  proposed  by  the 
Conservative  rabbinate  was  an  asmakhta—a  contract  in- 
validated  by  the  Halakhah  because  of  its  vagueness.  Rabbi 
Norman  Lamm  of  New  York  presented  this  view  in  an  article  in 
Tradition: 


The  essential  fault  of  the  Conservative  proposal  ...  is  its  ex- 
tremely  indeterminate  nature,  a  vagueness  which  Jewish  law 
cannot  tolerate  as  the  proper  basis  for  legal  negotiation.* 


HO 


Jewish  Woman  in  Jeioish  Law 


Rabbi  Binyomin  Rabinowitz-Teumim  of  Jerusalem  gave 
the  same  reason  and  also  objecled  to  this  form  of  constraint  to 
deliver  a  divorce/  Many  forms  of  monetary  constraint  are 
valid,  but  certain  forms  of  monetary  constraint  invalidate  a 
divorce.  The  Ramah  rules: 

When  a  man  voluntarily  accepted  monetary  sanctions  lipon 
himself  should  he  refuse  to  issue  a  divorce,  it  is  not  considered 
an  improper  form  of  constraint,  for  he  has  the  Option  of  paying 
and  not  divorcing.  However,  there  are  some  who  invalidate  the 
divorce  in  this  manner.  Therefore,  initially  one  does  not  issue  a 
divorce  in  this  manner  and  our  practice  is  to  dismiss  the  threat 
of  monetary  sanctions.* 

Rabbi  Rabinowitz  suggested  utilizing  such  a  contract  but 
modifying  it  to  avoid  the  problem  of  asmakhta—mdeterminaie 
contract— and  adding  the  provision  that  financial  constraint 
would  only  be  applied  if  a  competent  Jewish  court  initially 
declared  that  the  man  is  required  to  divorce  his  wife  according 
to  Jeu^ish  law.  He  advanced  this  as  a  tentative  proposal  and  re- 
quested  support  from  the  American  rabbinate. 

This  Support  was  slow  in  Coming  for  two  reasons.  First,  in 
Order  to  avoid  the  problem  of  asmakhta,  the  contract  would 
have  to  be  more  specific  and  detailed.  It  was  feit  that  once  a 
contract  was  drawn  up  with  specific  and  detailed  financial 
penalties,  the  parties  would  be  unwilling  to  sign  it.  In  fact,  it 
seems  that  this  was  the  very  reason  for  the  vague  wording  of 
the  contract  proposed  by  the  Rabbinical  Assembly.  Hence  such 
specific  contracts  would  not  reasonably  function  toward  solv- 
ing  the  problem  of  enforcing  a  divorce  where  the  husband  is 
unwilling.  The  failure  of  the  Conservative  rabbinate  to  per- 
suade  people  to  sign  their  vaguely  worded  Ketubah  subse- 
quently  confirmed  this  judgment. 

Secondly,  it  is  not  at  all  clear  whether  such  a  contract  would 
be  upheld  in  the  civil  courts.  This  was  argued  very  convincing- 
ly  in  a  pamphlet  by  A.  Leo  Levin  and  Meyer  Kramer,  both  of 


Solutions  to  Problems  of  Agimah  ^^^ 

the  University  of  Pennsylvania  Law  School'  They  summarized 
their  criticism  of  the  proposal  in 

the  foUowing  major  propositions:  (1)  the  new  ketuhah  in  its 
truncated  official  English  version  is  not  a  legally  binding  con- 
tract; (2)  properly  interpreted,  the  terms  of  the  ketubah  do  not 
authorize  the  Beth  Din  to  make  an  award  for  failure  to  give  a 
gef ;  (3)  under  arbitration  law,  authority  of  the  Beth  Dm  to  make 
an  award  is,  in  any  event,  revocable;  (4)  punitive  damages  are 
not  recoverable  in  a  court  of  law  and  it  will  be  for  the  court  to 
determine  whether  the  amount  of  an  award  constitutes  a 
penalty;  (5)  in  any  event,  court  enforcement  of  a  financial 
award  made  in  order  to  compel  the  granting  of  a  religious 
divorce  would  offend  against  the  First  and  Fourteenth  Amend- 
ments and  would  be  unconstitutional.'" 

While  these  objections  were  made  against  the  contract  of  the 
Rabbinical  Assembly.  the  last  three  would  seem  to  be  ap- 
plicable to  any  similar  contract,  including  the  proposal  of  Rab- 
bi Rabinowitz. 

I  am  unaware  of  any  cases  that  have  tested  the  validity  ot 
such  contracts.  Apparently,  the  agreement  has  not  been  used 
often  enough  to  make  it  a  meaningful  Solution.  The  fact  that 
the  Rabbinical  Assembly  accepted  Berkovits's  proposal  in  1968 
is  the  clearest  indication  that  their  own  proposal  had  failed.»' 

The  best  way  to  effect  a  Solution  in  the  civil  courts  is  not 
particularly  clear.  The  small  number  of  instances  where  a  beth- 
din  has  been  unable  to  extract  a  get  has  produced  only  a  limited 
number  of  cases  in  the  civil  courts.  Furthermore,  great  confu- 
sion  has  arisen  regarding  the  details  of  Jewish  divorce  and  the 
proper  role  of  secular  courts  in  their  execution.  Unfortunately, 
the  courts  have  relied  on  less  than  expert  advice  in  determining 

the  halakhic  facts. 

The  first  significant  case  regarding  Jewish  divorce  was 
Koeppel  V.  Koeppel  in  New  York.^^  In  the  proceedings  dissolv- 
ing  their  marriage,  Maureen  and  William  Koeppel  had  signed 
an  agreement  containing  the  following  provision: 


112 


Jewish  Woman  in  Jeivish  Law 

Upon  the  successfui  prosecution  of  the  vvife's  action  for  the  dis- 
solution  of  her  marriage,  the  Husband  and  Wife  covenant  and 
agree  that  he  and  she  will,  whenever  calied  upon  and  if  and 
whenever  the  same  shall  become  necessary,  appear  before  a 
Rabbi  or  Rabbinate  selected  and  designated  by  whomever  of  the 
parties  who  shall  f irst  demand  the  same,  and  execute  any  and  all 
papers  and  documents  required  by  and  necessary  to  effectuate  a 
dissolution  of  their  marriage  in  accordance  with  the  ec- 
clesiastical  laws  of  the  Faith  and  Church  of  said  parties. 


When  the  husband  refused  to  authorize  a  get,  the  wife  sued  in 
civil  court.  The  court  ruled  that  forcing  the  husband  to  grant  a 
get  "would  not  interfere  with  his  freedom  of  religion."  The 
judge  wrote:"Complying  with  his  agreement  would  not  compel 
the  defendant  to  practice  any  religion,  not  even  the  Jewish  faith 
to  which  he  still  admits  adherence.  ...  His  appearance  before 
the  Rabbinate  to  answer  questions  and  give  evidence  required 
by  them  to  make  a  decision  is  not  a  profession  of  faith."  The 
court  seemed  to  assume  that  if  the  beth-din  ordered  a  get,  the 
husband  would  be  required  to  authorize  it. 

Unfortunately,  a  case  arose  in  1973,  also  in  New  York,  / 
which  complicated  the  issue.'^  Selma  and  Myron  Margulies 
had  agreed  to  "appear  before  a  Rabbi  to  be  designated  for  the 
purpose  of  a  Jewish  religious  divorce."  The  court  initially 
ordered  Myron  Margulies  to  appear  before  a  beth-din.  When 
he  refused  to  do  so,  he  was  fined  and  jailed  for  contempt  of 
court.  The  case  was  appealed  and  the  decision  reversed.  The 
court,  in  its  opinion,  stated: 

It  is  argued  that  the  court  was  without  power  to  direct  the 
defendant  to  participate  in  a  religious  divorce,  as  such  is  a  mat- 
ter of  one's  personal  convictions,  and  is  not  subject  to  the 
Court's  interference.  We  are  told  further  that  since  a  Jewish 
divorce  can  only  be  granted  upon  the  representation  that  it  is 
sought  by  the  husband  of  his  own  free  will,  any  such  divorce,  if 
obtained  under  compulsion  by  the  court,  would  in  any  event  be 
a  nullity.** 


Solutions  to  Problems  of  Agumh 


113 


1 


The  court,  unfortunately,  misunderstood  the  role  of  secular 
Courts  in  enforcing  a  beth-din's  order  to  grant  a  get.  It  also 
seems  that  the  court  misunderstood  the  entire  process  of  Jewish 
divorce.  Marriage  and  divorce  are  contracts  in  Judaism  and  re- 
quire  no  declaration  of  dogma.  The  court,  by  comparing  in  its 
decision  the  granting  of  a  get  to  Catholic  confession,  assumed  y 
incorrectly  that  a  get  is  a  sacrament. 

Also  in  1973,  in  Pal  v.  Pal,  the  court  ordered  the  parties  to 
submit  to  a  beth-din.  On  June  17,  1974  the  decision  was 
reversed,"  and  the  court,  citing  Margulies  v.  Margulies,  ruled 
that  it  had  no  authority  to  convene  a  rabbinic  court  to  decide 
whether  or  not  a  get  was  required.  There  was,  however,  an  im- 
portant  dissenting  opinion  by  Justice  Martuscello.  He  pointed 
out  that  the  court  had  erred  in  Margulies  v.  Margidies  when  it 
assumed  that  a  divorce  under  constraint  of  a  secular  court  is  in- 
valid. He  further  cited  Koeppel  v.  Koeppel  that  an  order  to 
deliver  a  get  is  not  a  violation  of  constitutional  rights. 

At  this  time  it  is  still  unclear  what  direction  the  courts  will 
take.  There  is  precedent  for  the  courts  to  refrain  completely 
from  forcing  a  husband  to  deliver  a  get.  On  the  other  band, 
there  is  also  precedent  for  a  civil  court  to  require  a  husband  to 
appear  before  a  beth-din  and  accede  to  its  demand.  However,  it 
is  essential  that  the  courts  understand  the  f  acts.  A  get  delivered 
purely  under  coercion  of  a  secular  court  is  invalid.  However,  if 
the  secular  court  merely  coerces  the  husband  into  acceding  to 
the  beth-din's  ruling,  the  get  is  valid.  This  is  an  indisputable    . 
fact  of  Jewish  law.  Also,  it  is  essential  that  the  courts  realize 
that  marriage  and  divorce  in  Judaism  are  contracts  and  not 
sacraments.    It   is   certainly   questionable   whether   forcing   a 
person  to  execute  a  contract  recognized  as  such  only  under 
religious  law  is  constitutional.  However,  this  is  the  only  rele- 
vant question. 

In  the  meantime,  the  Standard  practice  of  lawyers  is  to 
make  the  authorization  of  a  get  part  of  the  property  and  Sup- 
port settlemenl.  This  is  generally  an  ef fective  means  for  dealing 
with   husbands    unwilling   to   grant,    or   wives   unwilling   to 


114 


Jewish  Woman  in  Jewish  Law 


receive,  a  get.  The  legality  of  this  practice  was  upheld  in  a  re- 
cent  case  in  New  York,  Rubin  v.  Rubin.''  The  couple  had  been 
divorced  in  Alabama,  and  the  payment  of  support  and  alimony 
had  been  made  dependent  on  the  wife's  appearing  before  a 
beth-din  and  accepting  a  get  The  wife  refused  to  accept  a  get 
and  sued  the  husband  for  support.  The  court,  in  1973,  upheld 
the  validity  of  the  agreement  whereby  the  husband  withheld 
support  pending  the  appearance  of  his  ex-wife  before  a  beth- 
/  din  to  accept  a  get.  The  implication  of  the  decision  was  that  it  is 
completely  legal  to  attach  to  the  property  and  support  settle- 
.    ment  the  requirement  of  giving  and  receiving  a  get. 

A  similar  Situation  prevails  in  Canadian  courts.  Roberta 

Morris  was  divorced  in  Canada  on  July  14,  1972.  When  her 

husband  refused  to  give  her  a  get,  she  petitioned  the  court  to 

force  him  to  do  so.  She  claimed  that  the  ketubah  is  a  valid  con- 

tract,  and  that  her  husband,  in  her  Ketubah,  had  agreed  to  act 

"in  accordance  with  the  law  of  Moses  and  Israel,"  which  re- 

quires  a  husband  to  accede  to  the  ruling  of  a  beth-din.  Thus  the 

wife  demanded  that  the  court  enforce  her  Ketubah  and  force 

her  husband  to  give  her  a  get.  On  March  16,  1973,  Justice 

Wilson  of  Manitoba  Queen's  Bench  ordered  the  husband  to  . 

give  a  get  to  his  ex-wife  in  accord  with  the  demand  of  the  beth-' 

din,  adding  that  where  there  is  no  conflict  of  dogma,  the  court 

cannot  be  said  to  be  entering  a  religious  dispute.»' 

On  December  27,  1973,  Justice  Wllson's  decision  was 
reversed  by  the  Manitoba  Court  of  Appeals,»«  Chief  Justice 
Freedman  dissenting.  In  his  opinion,  which  concurred  with 
Justice  Wilson's,  he  claimed  that  the  Ketubah  is  a  valid  contract 
and  hence  the  husband  was  contractually  obligated  to  delivcr  a 
get  to  his  wife. 

Unfortunately,  the  justices  who  disagreed  with  Chief 
Justice  Freedman  misunderstood  certain  essential  aspects  of 
Jewish  law.  Some  of  them  equated  the  Ketubah  with  a  marriage 
vow,  with  its  vague  commitments  to  honor,  love,  and  cherish 
the  mate.  This  is  incorrect.  The  Ketubah  is  not  merely  a  mar- 


Solutions  to  Problems  of  Agumh 


115 


riage  vow.  Every  party  to  a  Jewish  marriage,  of  necessity,  must 
voluntarily  accept  upon  himself  all  the  detailed  provisions  of 
the  Ketubah.  Each  of  these  obligations  has  detailed  legal 
specif ications  and  hence  is  not  to  be  considered  merely  a  vague 

promise. 

Some  of  the  judges  wrongly  assumed  that  Jewish  law  for- 
bids  the  initiation  of  divorce  proceedings  by  a  woman,  and 
therefore  held  that  Roberta  Morris,  by  initiating  divorce 
proceedings  in  a  Canadian  court,  had  violated  the  tenets  of 
Judaism.  This  is  false.  There  are  no  religious  directives  what- 
soever  regarding  divorce  proceedings  in  a  secular  court. 
Moreover,  a  woman  may  petition  a  beth-din  for  a  divorce.  If 
the  beth-dih  accepts  her  petition  and  Orders  the  divorce,  the 
husband  must  authorize  the  preparation  of  a  get  and  deliver  it 
to  her.  The  beth-din  can  force  him  to  carry  out  its  directives  if 
he  refuses  to  do  so  voluntarily. 

The  case  was  appealed  to  the  Supreme  Court  of  Canada. 
The  court's  agreement  to  hear  the  case  apparently  indicated 
that  it  attached  significance  to  both  sides  of  the  dispute,  but  the 
case  was  dropped  because  the  plaintiff  could  not  afford  the  ad- 
ditional  legal  costs  attendant  to  a  Supreme  Court  appeal.  Thus 
in  Canada,  as  in  the  United  States,  the  issue  remains  un- 

resolved. 

Fortunately,  cases  where  husbands  refuse  to  grant  divorces 
when  required  by  Jewish  law  are  few  and  far  between,  and  a 
beth-din  very  often  has  sufficient  power,  by  using  social  pres- 
sure, to  secure  compliance  with  its  decision.  Nonetheless,  even 
if  only  a  very  few  cases  need  to  be  resolved  in  the  civil  courts, 
we  must  do  every thing  in  our  power  to  solve  this  problem.  It  is 
incumbent  on  the  observant  Jewish  Community  to  devise 
halakhically  valid  means  of  enforcing  the  Orders  of  a  beth-din 
through  the  civil  courts. 


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Österreichisches  Museum 
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GEYMÜLLER-SCHLOSSEL 

EINTRITT  für  1  Person 
S  30.—  '"•<'•  f^^st. 

Durch  Übernahme  unterwiift  sich  ^er 
Besitzer  der  Hausoidnung. 


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Österreichisches  Museum 
für  angewandte  Kunst      s 

A-1010  Wien,  Stubenring  5 * 

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GEYMÜLLER-SCHLOSSEL 

EINTRITT  für  1   Person 
S  30.—  '"'^'-  i^^st. 

Durch  Übernahme  unterwiift  sich  d«r 
Besitzer  der  Hausordnung. 


o 


EISEN 
KUNST 
GUSS 


der  ersten  Hälfte  des  19.  Jahrhunderts 

aus  den  Sammlungen  des 

Österreichischen  Museums  für  angewandte  Kunst 


Ausstellung  im  Geymüller-Schlössel 
1.  Juli  bis  29.  November  1992 


Herausgegeben  vom  MAK 

Österreichisches  Museum  für  angewandte  Kunst 


l 


Katalog  und  Ausstellung: 
Elisabeth  Schnnuttermeier 

mit  Texten  von  Helinnut  Janetschek  und  Desiröe  Schellerer 


Wissenschaftliche  Beratung: 

Alfred  Bernhard-Walcher,  Hellmuth  Janetschek.  Selma  Krasa-Florian, 

Eva  Marko,  Barbara  Mundt,  Gert  Rosenberg.  Karl  Schulz 

Ausstellungsmitarbeit  und  Restaurierung: 
Ludwig  Neustifter,  Karl  Riemerth 

Grafische  Gestaltung:  Marianne  Friedl 
Fotos:  Atelier  Prader,  MAK/Georg  Mayer 
Satz,  Druck,  Bindung:  Seitenberg 

ISBN:  3-900688-18-4 


1     Büste  des  Kaiser  Franz  I. 

Horowitz,  1810-1820 
Eisengießerei  Graf  Wrbna 
Eisenguß,  H  26cm,  B  15cm 

Laut   Inventareintragung    stammt   diese    Büste   von    Kaiser   Franz   I. 
(1768-1835)  aus  der  Eisengießerei  des  Grafen  Wrbna  in  Horowitz.  Ein 
ähnliches  Modell,  jedoch  mit  anderer  Frisur,  befindet  sich  in  der  Samm- 
lung Barth -Fischer  im  Museum  für  Verkehr  und  Technik  in  Berlin. 
Lit.:  Vgl.  Kat.  Aus  einem  Guß,  S.  209,  Nr.  882. 
Inv  Ei  657/1917 


107    2  Halsketten 

um  1830 
Eisenguß,  L  45,6cm 

An  einer  zarten  Ankerkette  hängen  auf  diu 
Mitte  hm  konzentriert,  sieben  durchbrochene 
mit  Ringen  verbundene  Zierelemente  Vm 
Kreuzblumenblätter  alternieren  mit  hochova 
len,  mit  vegetabilem  Dekor  gestalteten  Moti' 
ven.  Das  Steiernnarkische  Landesmuseum 
Joanneum  in  Graz  besitzt  eine  vergoldttt 
Schmuckgarnitur  (Inv.  Nr.  0483).  bestehend 
aus  Arnnband  und  Kette,  die  dieselben  Kreuz- 
blumenblätter  aufweisen  Laut  Inventar  soll  öm 
Garnitur  um  1830  in  Berlin  erzeugt  worden 
sein.  Es  könnte  sich  jedoch  auch  um  eine 
Arbeit  der  Firma  Joseph  Glanz  aus  Wien  han- 
deln. 
Inv.  Bi  1618a,  b,  Schenkung  Pappenheim 


H 


108    Fragmente  einer  Halskette 

um  1830 
Eisenguß,  L  29,6  cm 

Die  zart  durchbrochene  Kette  ist  nicht  voltetÄi' 
dig  erhalten.   Sechspassige.   blumenförniige 
Motive  wechseln  mit  sternförmigen  ab. 
Inv  Bi  1619,  Schenkung  Pappenheim 


109    Fragmente  einer  Halskette 

Horowitz,  1830-1835 
Eisengießerei  Graf  Wrbna 
Eisenguß,  L  43cm 

Fensterrosetten  wechseln  mit  ^^^^^^ 
lig  anmutenden  Blattmo.v^n^^^^ 
Die  Halskette  wurde   'ÖJ^J^J^   tmMff0 
fabriksproduktenkabinett  e^Oe^J^^^^ 

Kette  befindet  sich  in  der  ^^^"^^XS^im 
gewerbemuseunn  in  ^^^^2lT<i7^^^ 
Lit.:  Kat,  Sperky  1780/1860.  S  76,  I 

Inv.  Bi  1387/1914 


64 


'2S 


} 


110     Halskette 

Horowitz,  1830-1835 
Eisengießerei  Graf  Wrbna 
Eisenguß,  L  45  cm 

Die  Kette  besteht  aus  vierzehn  durchbrochenen,  sternförmigen  Roset- 
ten, die  mit  Ringen  aneinandergehängt  sind.  Die  Kette  wurde  1839  in  das 
Nationalfabriksproduktenkabinett  eingegliedert. 
Inv.  Bi  1386/1914 


i 


e 


111     Halskette  mit  Kreuzanhänger 

vermutlich  Berlin,  2.  Viertel  19.  Jh. 
Eisenguß,  Eisendraht,  L48cm 

Zwischen  der  Kette  aus  feinen  kettenhemdartig  verflochtenen  Stahlrin- 
gen sind  sechs  Oliven  aus  Eisendraht  montiert.  Der  Kreuzanhänger 
besteht  aus  demselben  Material.  Solche  hohlen  Ketten  wurden  auch  aus 
Golddraht  ,, gestrickt". 
Inv  Bi  1621,  Schenkung  Pappenheim 


35     Lichtschirmständer 

2.  Viertel  19.  Jh. 

Eisenguß,  H  47,5cnn,  L  19,6cm,  B  10,7cm 

Der  Fuß  wird  von  vier  über  Eck  gestellten,  stilisierten  Löwenmasken,  die 
ein  Podest  umschließen,  gebildet.  Daraus  entspringt  ein  vegetabiler 
Ständer,  in  dem  der  durch  eine  Knebelschraube  fixierbare  Oberteil 
steckt.  Lilien  und  Kreuzblumen  in  alternierender  Reihenfolge  begrenzen 
den  Rahmen  auf  drei  Seiten.  Die  Mitte  wird  durch  drei  in  der  Höhe  gestaf- 
felte gotisierende  Giebel  betont. 
Inv.  El  994,  Schenkung  Pappenheinn 


36     Standspiegel 

Carlshütte  bei  Rendsburg?,  2.  Viertel  19.  Jh. 
Eisenguß,  H  34,5cm,  L  19,6cm 

Aus  einer  runden,  mit  Akanthuslaub,  Blüten,  Weinblättern  und  Trauben 
verzierten  Standfläche  wächst  eine  Lyra,  die  oben  das  halbkreisförmige 
drehbare  Gestell  für  den  Spiegel  trägt.  Zwei  seitlich  angebrachte  Stifte 
ermöglichen  das  Kippen  des  Spiegels.  Die  Königlich  Preußischen  Gieße_ 
reien  haben  den  Spiegel  auf  Lyragestell  ebenfalls  hergestellt.  Aufgruno 
der  geringeren  Maße  dürfte  es  sich  aber  bei  dem  vorliegenden  Gegen- 
stand um  einen  Nachguß  der  Carlshütte  handeln.  Die  Qualität  des  Bus- 
ses ist  mittelmäßig.  n^,^ori 
Lit.:  Vgl.  Kat.  Eisen  statt  Gold,  S.  224,  Nr.  485;  Stummann-Boweri. 

Eisenkunstguß,  S.93,  Nr.  9,  Abb.  Taf.  18. 
Inv.  Ei  993,  Schenkung  Pappenheim 


36 


I 


34     Leuchter 

1.  Drittel  19.  Jh. 

Königlich  Preußische  Gießereien 

Eisenguß,  H  25cm,  T  10cm 

Auf  einem  Sockel  mit  eingeschwungenen  Sei- 
ten und  abgeschnittenen  Ecken  steht  der 
Leuchter  auf  drei  Löwentatzen.  Vorbild  dafür 
waren  römische  Kandelaber.  Die  Füße  tragen 
einen  kugelförmigen  Modus,  der  wiederum  die 
Basis  für  den  Schaft  darstellt.  Aus  diesenn,  wie 
ein  Blütenkelch  gefornnt,  wächst  die  Halterung 
für  die  Tülle. 

Lit.:  Hintze,  Gleiwitz,  S.  71,  Taf.  I,  Fig.  13. 
Inv.  Ei  992,  Schenkung  Pappenheim 


32     2  Leuchter 

um  1810-1820 

Königlich  Preußische  Gießereien 

Eisenguß,  H  31cm.  D  12,2cm 

Auf  der  runden  mit  Palmetten  verzierten  Basis 
erhebt  sich  der  aus  drei  Löwenpranken  aufstei- 
gende, sich  nach  oben  erweiternde  Schaft. 
Drei  mit  ausgespannten  Flügeln  stehende 
Eulen  tragen  eine  Platte,  auf  der  die  als  antiker 
Krater  ausgebildete  Tülle  angebracht  ist. 
üt:  Hintze,  Gleiwitz,  S.61,  Nr.  312;  Kat.  Eisen 
statt  Gold,  S.  164,  Nr.  342,  Abb.  S.  163. 
Inv.  Ei  991  Schenkung  Pappenheim 


33     2  Leuchter 

Horowitz,  1825-1830 

Eisengießerei  Graf  Wrbna 

Eisenguß,  H  28cm,  L  11,3cm,  B  11,3cm 

Die  viereckige  sich  nach  oben  verjüngende 
Standfläche  mit  Palmettenfnes  und  Blattzwei- 
gen bildet  die  Basis  für  den  Schaft.  Dieser  ist 
durch  einen  Nodus  geteilt  und  mit  Akanthus- 
laub  verziert.  Die  weit  ausladende  Tülle  weist 
unterschiedliche  Tüllenteller  auf,  nur  einer 
davon  scheint  original  zu  sein.  Die  Leuchter 
wurden  1831  in  das  Nationalfabriksprodukten- 
kabinett  aufgenommen, 
üt.:   Leisching,   Gußeisen.   In:   KuK,   XX.  Jg.. 

8.10. 

Inv.  Ei  638/1914 


34 


I 


115     i 

Horow 
Eisenc 
Eisenc 

Verscl' 

oder   I 

gestel' 

dabei 

1839 

gebrac 

Inv.  Bi 


112     Fragmente  einer  Halskette 

2.  Viertel  19.  Jh. 

Eisenguß,  L  14,7  cm 

Das  Kettenfragment  besteht  aus  sieben  durchbrochenen  Gliedern, 

wobei  sich  Kreuzblumenblätter  und  ovale  Maßwerkmotive  abwechseln. 

Die  gleichen  Teile,  nur  in  etwas  größerer  Dimension,  finden  sich  auf  der 

Halskette  Kat.  Nr.  113. 

Inv.  Bi  1616,  Schenkung  Pappenheim 


113     Halskette 

2.  Viertel  19.  Jh. 
Eisenguß,  L  54  cm 

Mit  Ausnahme  der  Schließe  und  dem  Mittelmotiv  entsprechen  die  ein- 
zelnen Glieder  der  zwanzigteiligen  durchbrochenen  Kette  dem  Fragment 
von  Kat.  Nr.  112. 
Inv.  Bi  1615,  Schenkung  Pappenheim 


V. 


114    Halskette  mit  Kreuzanhänger 

2.  Viertel  19.  Jh. 

Eisenguß,  Eisendraht,  Stahl,  L  38  cm 

Eine  Kette  aus  feinen  kettenhemdartig  verflochtenen  Stahlringen  wird  in 

der  Mitte  von  einem  achtpass.gen  Zierelement,  bei  dem  s'ch  K.elboge^^^ 

und  Rundbogen  abwechseln,  zusammengehalten.  Em  m  der  Mitte  bete 

stigtes  Stahlplättchen  mit  einer  abgebrochenen  Eisengußblume  schan 

einen  farbigen  Akzent.  An  dem  Zierelerinent  sind  zwei  we^^J^  ^^  ^^ 

befestigt,  die  den  Kreuzanhänger  halten.  Die  zungenartigen  Kjeuzbaken 

sind  mit  floralen  Motiven  ausgefüllt.  Auf  deren  Schnittpunkt  ist  ein  Stahl 

plättchen  mit  einem  Frauenkopf  aus  Eisenguß  aufgelegt. 

Inv.  Bi  1620,  Schenkung  Pappenheim 


66 


SPITZEN 

DES  BAROCK 


aus  der  Sammlung  des 
Österreichischen  Museums  für  angewandte  Kunst 


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Angela  Völker 


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48  Spitzenborte  (Ärmelrüsche?) 
Nähspitze  aus  Leinengarn 
Frankreich,  Mitte  18.  Jahrhundert 
12.5  X  190  cm,  Inv.Nr.  T  4  852, 
Legat  E.  v.  Schnapper 

49  Spitzenborte 
Nähspitze  aus  Leinengarn 
Frankreich,  Mitte  18.  Jahrhundert 
8,5  X  92  cnn,  Inv.Nr.  T  8  536 

50  Breiter  Spitzenvolant 
Nähspitze  aus  Leinengarn 
Frankreich,  2.  Hälfte  18.  Jahrhundert 
27  X  193  cnn,  Inv.Nr.  T  4  853, 
Legat  E.  v.  Schnapper 


28 


51  Spitzenvolant  (2  Teile) 
Nähspitze  aus  Leinengarn 
Frankreich,  2.  Hälfte  18.  Jahrhundert 
9  X  96,5  und  92  cnn,  Inv.Nr.  T  10  073, 
Legat  Pappenheim  (P  361) 

52  Breiter  Spitzenvolant 
Nähspitze  aus  Leinengarn 
Frankreich,  4.  Viertel  18.  Jahrhundert 
39  X  196  cm,  Inv.Nr.  T4  863, 

Legat  E.  v.  Schnapper 

53  Zwei  Barben 
Nähspitze  aus  Leinengarn 
Frankreich,  4.  Viertel  18.  Jahrhundert 

je  83  X  14  cm,  Inv.Nr.  T  10  073,  Legat  Pappenheim  (P  357) 


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Venezianische  Nähspitzen  (Kat.  Nr.  21-34) 


Das  Zentrum  italienischer  Nähspitzen  liegt  im  17.  Jahrhun- 
dert in  Venedig,  wo  vor  allem  Nonnenklöster  und  ihnen  an- 
geschlossene Waiseahäuser  große  Produktionsbetriebe 
unterhalten.  Während  man  in  der  ersten  Hälfte  des 
17.  Jahrhunderts  zarte,  flache  und  weich  fallende  Klöppel- 
spitzen aus  Flandern  bevorzugt  (vgl.  Kat.  Nr.  54),  kommt 
um  die  Mitte  des  Jahrhunderts  die  genähte,  voluminös  wir- 
kende Spitze  Venedigs  in  Mode,  ohne  daß  man  eine  all- 
mähliche Entwicklung  in  diese  Richtung  beobachten  könn- 
te. Breite,  flach  liegende  Spitzenkragen,  gefältelte  Kravat- 
ten  oder  Manschettenvolants  schmücken  Frauenroben 
und  Männerjacken.  Die  venezianische  Nähspitze  des  drit- 
ten Viertels  des  17.  Jahrhunderts,  „punto  rosaline"  später 
französisch  „gros  point  de  Venise"  genannt,  entspricht  sti- 
listisch in  ihren  üppigen  und  sehr  plastisch  gestalteten  Mo- 
tiven der  jetzt  mehr  und  mehr  französisch  beeinflußten  Mo- 
de, deren  allmählich  in  ganz  Europa  verbreiteten  Formen 
sie  wirkungsvoll  unterstreicht.  Ein  wichtiger  Abnehmer  ve- 
nezianischer Spitzen  ist  bis  in  das  frühe  18.  Jahrhundert, 
als  sie  modisch  bereits  uninteressant  sind,  die  Kirche,  wo 
breite  Bordüren  an  Alben  Verwendung  finden,  oder  Ante- 
pendien  ganz  aus  diesem  ausdrucksvollen  Material  beste- 
hen. 

In  Venedig  gelingt  es,  die  aufwendige  Spitze  auch  in  Teilen 
herzustellen,  die  man  dann  zusammenfügt.  So  können 
zahlreiche  Näherinnen  arbeitsteilig  und  effektiver  beschäf- 
tigt werden.  Ihre,  trotz  sehr  hoher  Preise,  große  Beliebtheit 


auch  in  den  anderen  europäischen  Ländern  macht  eine 
derartige  Beschleunigung  der  Herstellung  notwendig  und 
lukrativ. 

Phantasievolle  florale  Formen,  deren  Konturen  durch  mit- 
geführte, oft  sehr  dicke  Fäden  reliefartig  hervorgehoben 
werden,  bilden  jetzt  das  reiche  Musterrepertoire.  Beson- 
ders reizvoll  sind  die  Füllungen  der  Einzelmotive  gearbei- 
tet, die  in  den  verschiedensten  Stichen  genäht  werden 
Während  man  anfangs  die  Stege  zwischen  den  großforma- 
tigen Motiven  nur  vereinzelt  anbringt,  sie  vor  allem,  die 
Spitze  zusammenhaltend,  als  technisch  notwendige  Stütze 
behandelt  (Kat.  Nr.  20  -  27),  werden  sie  im  Laufe  der  zwei- 
ten Hälfte  des  Jahrhunderts  immer  reicher,  bekommen 
kleine,  später  aufwendigere  Picots  (Kat.  Nr.  28,  29),  um 
schließlich  einen  relativ  dichten  Grund  zu  bilden,  der'  op- 
tisch gleichwertig,  den  Reiz  der  Spitze  ausmacht.  Dieser 
sog.  point  de  neige  ist  Ausgangspunkt  für  die  französische 
Nähspitze,  die  sich  anfangs  so  eng  an  das  venezianische 
Vorbild  anschließt,  daß  eine  Unterscheidung  fast  unmög- 
lich wird  (Kat.  Nr.  40).  Ab  dem  letzten  Viertel  des  17.  Jahr- 
hunderts aber  läuft  sie,  vor  allem  in  der  Mode,  der  venezia- 
nischen den  Rang  ab. 

Obwohl  man  jetzt  auch  in  Venedig  immer  flacher  und  fei- 
ner arbeitet,  und  die  Einzelmotive  sehr  kleinteilig  erschei- 
nen (Kat.  Nr.  33,  34).  gelingt  es  nicht  -  eine  europaweite. 
durch  die  Mode  provozierte  Krise  der  Spitze  hat  das  sicher 
unterstützt  - ,  sich  auf  neue  Interessen  und  Motive  umzu- 
stellen, so  daß  die  Blüte  der  venezianischen  Spitze  ebenso 
plötzlich  vorbei  ist,  wie  sie  um  die  Mitte  des  Jahrhunderts 
begonnen  hat. 


*^^^"^^p"^^ 


21  Garnitur  aus  Kragen  und  Manschetten 
Nähspitze  aus  Leinengarn 

Venedig.  Mitte  17.  Jahrhundert 

Kragen:  5,5  x  53  cm;  Manschetten  je:  11,5  x  29  cm    Inv  Nr 

T  10  073.  Legat  Pappenheim 

(P  61  a.b.c) 

22  Abgepaßte  Reliefspitze 

Nähspitze  aus  Leinengarn  mit  geklöppeltem  Rand  oben 
Venedig,  Mitte  17.  Jahrhundert 
21,5  X  80  cm,  Inv.Nr.  T  6  542 

23  Reliefspitzenborte  (2  Teile) 

Nähspitze  aus  Leinengarn  mit  geklöppeltem  Rand  oben/unten 
Venedig,  Mitte  17.  Jahrhundert 
6.8  X  70  cm,  Inv.Nr.  T  5  355 
6.8  X  65  cm,  Inv.Nr.  T  5  354 

12 


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NEU-ISENBURG 

zwischen 

ANPASSUNG  UND  WIDERSTAND 


Dokumente  über  Lebensbedingungen  und  politisches  Veriialten 


1933—1945 


Im  Auftrag  des  Magistrats  der  Stadt  Neu-Isenburg 
bearbeitet  und  eingeleitet  von 

Dieter  Rebentiscli 

und 

Angelika  Raab 


Neu-Isenburg  •  1978 


Alle  Rechte  vorbehalten. 

©  1978  Magistrat  der  Stadt  Neu-Isenburg 

Herausgeber:  Magistrat  der  Stadt  Neu-Isenburg 

Gesamtherstellung:  Druckerei  A.  Leichum  KG  Neu-Isenburg 

Umschlag:  Ilse  Dreher.  Dreieich 


Niemand  darf  still  bleiben,  der  weiß, 
daß  Irgendwo  ein  Unrecht  geschieht  — 
nicht  Geschlecht,  nicht  Alter, 
nicht  Konfession  noch  Partei 
dürfen  ein  Grund  sein,  zu  schweigen. 
Von  Unrecht  wissen  und  schweigen, 
macht  mitschuldig. 

Geschrieben  in  tjeu-lsenburg 
im  September  1924 

Berthe  Pappenhelm 


ten. 

eu-lsenburg 

tt  Neu-Isenburg 

um  KG,  Neu-Isenburg 

)reieich 


.M'* 


Das  Heim  des 
Jüdischen  Frauenbundes 
Neu-Isenburg 
Taunusstraße  9 
1907  bis  1942 
gegründet  von 
Bertha  Pappenheim 


^    1^ 


^«1  J 


^* 


IT!' 


^^^PP 


1% 


Im  Auftrag  des 

Magistrats  der  Stadt  Neu-Isenburg 

von  Helga  Heubach 

mit  Helene  Krämers 
Bericht  über  das  Heim  nach 
dem  Tode  Bertha  Pappenheims, 
insbesondere  über  die  Ereignisse 
in  der  >Reichskristallnacht< 
vom  10.  November  1938 


der  »Geschichte  des  Rabbi  Amnon 

aus  einem  Masse-Buch«  (Amsterdam  1732) 

aus  dem  Jüdisch-deutschen  ins 

Hochdeutsche  übertragen  von 

Bertha  Pappenheim  aus  der 

Jahresgabe  1928/5689  des  Heims 


sowie  Bertha  Pappenheim, 
»Die  Haselnusstorte«,  ein  Theaterstück 
für  die  Kinder  des  Heims, 
aufgeführt  zu  Purim  1936 


Neu-Isenburg,  1986 


Ich  danke  allen,  die  mir  bei  dieser  Arbeit  mit  ihrem  Rat  und 
Hinweis  sowie  ihrer  Kenntnis  geholfen  haben:  Ehemalige 
Frankfurter  und  Neu-isenburger  jüdische  Mitbürger, 
ehemalige  Neu-isenburger  Heimbeamtinnen  und 
-bewohnerinnen.  Neu-isenburger  Bürger  und  Institutionen 
sowie  den  Bibliotheken  und  Archiven. 
Frau  Rabbiner  Dr.  Salzberger,  London,  danke  ich  für  ihre 
tatkräftige  Unterstützung,  mit  der  sie  mich  mit  Frau 
Gertrude  Ehrenwerth  zusammenführte,  die  ich  somit, 
schwerkrank,  eine  Woche  vor  ihrem  Tod  im  Juli  1983  noch 
kennenlernen  durfte.  Durch  ihren  Bruder,  Herrn  Dr.  Eran, 
ließ  sie  mir  Fotos,  ihre  (bereits  von  Dora  Edinger  veröffent- 
lichten) Briefe  Bertha  Pappenheims  und  das  bisher 
ungedruckte  Manuskript  des  Theaterstücks  »Die  Hasel- 
nußtorte« zur  Verfügung  stellen.  Ich  erhielt  diese  Unterlagen 
zugleich  mit  der  Nachricht  von  ihrem  Tode. 
Ich  gedenke  mit  Dankbarkeit  an  Frau  Iska  Stamm,  die  ich 
mit  ihrer  Tochter  Tamara  als  Gast  der  Stadt  Neu-Isenburg 
kennenlernte  und  als  deren  Gast  ich  in  Israel  meine 
Recherchen  durchführen  konnte.  Das  Ergebnis  meiner 
Arbeit,  die  sie  mit  wachem  Interesse  verfolgte,  erfuhr  sie 
nicht  mehr.  Sie  starb  93jährig  in  Tel  Aviv  im  Dezember  1984. 
Mein  Dank  gilt  weiterhin  den  Bibliotheken  und  Archiven, 
vor  allem  dem  Leo  Baeck  Institute,  New  York;  der  Mocatta 
Library  der  Jewish  Historical  Society,  London;  der  Wiener 
Library,  London  und  Universität  Tel  Aviv;  der  National- 
bibliothek Jerusalem;  dem  Stadtarchiv  Wien  sowie  der 
österreichischen  Nationalbibliothek;  der  Sammlung  Judaica 
der  Universität  Frankfurt;  dem  Stadtarchiv  Frankfurt  am 
Main  und  seinen  Mitarbeitern,  Herrn  Dr.  Andemacht, 
dem  Jüdischen  Museum  Frankfurt  sowie  dem  Museum 
»Haus  zum  Löwen«  Neu-Isenburg. 
Ich  danke  den  Fotostellen  der  Universitätsbibliothek 
Frankfurt  am  Main  und  dem  Stadtarchiv  für  die  Herstellung 
der  Druckunterlagen,  Frau  Seitz-Gray  für  das  Jüdische 
Museum,  Frankfurt  (S.  2/3,  39,  51,  52,  54,  61,  79),  und 
Herrn  Klaus  Meyer-Ude,  Frankfurt,  für  die  Reprographien 
S.  1, 11, 16, 18,  20,  22,  25,  29  und  71. 


Bildnachweis: 

Athenäum  Verlag  GmbH,  Königstein  i.  Ts.     7 
Leo  Baeck  Institute  Inc. ,  New  York, 

CoUection  Helene  Krämer    2,  3,  51,  54 
Blätter  des  Jüdischen  Frauenbundes,  Berlin,  1924  ff.     61,  92 
Gertrude  Ehrenwerth,  London    64-67,  98 
Frankfurter  Israelitisches  Gemeindeblatt, 

Frankfurt  am  Main     52,  71 
Stadtarchiv,  Frankfurt  am  Main     13, 14,  51,  74 
Jüdisches  Museum,  Frankfurt  am  Main     1,  4,  6,  8, 12,  31,  32, 

46,  47,  62,  63,  74,  76 
Jahresbericht  des  Heims  1914/15    2.  und  3.  Umschlagseite, 

80,  81,  82 
Jahresbericht  des  Heims  1914-1924    39,  40,  82,  83,  84-89 
Museum  der  Stadt  Neu-Isenburg,  »Haus  zum  Löwen« 

37,  44,  46,  52,  71  ^ 

Stadtverwaltung  Neu-Isenburg,  Rathaus    22,  36,  50,  70,  74 
Ost  und  West,  Illustr.  Monatsschrift  für  das  moderne 

Judentum,  Berlin  1900  ff.     11,16,29,79  "^ 

Umschlagfoto:  Bewohnerinnen  des  Heims  im  Garten 
mit  Helene  Krämer  (am  Tisch  sitzend,  links  vom  Baum 
im  dunklen  Kleid)  und  Iska  Stamm,  langjährige  Säuglings- 
schwester und  Vertreterin  von  Frau  Haas 
(rechts  im  hellen  Kleid). 
Aufnahme  ca.  1930  (Rechte  nicht  zu  ermitteln). 


Frankfurt,  den  15.  Oktober  1985 


Helga  Heubach 


ISBN  3-9801219-0-9 

Alle  Rechte  vorbehalten 

©  1985  Helga  Heubach,  Frankfurt  am  Main 

Herausgeber:  Magistrat  der  Stadt  Neu-Isenburg 

Vertrieb:  Kulturamt  der  Stadt,  Hugenottenhalle, 

Frankfurter  Straße  152,  6078  Neu-Isenburg 

Gestaltung:  Max  Bartholl 

Satz:  FSZ  Fotosatzstudio  Ziegelhüttenplatz  GmbH 

Druck:  mt  druck  Walter  Thiele  GmbH  &  Co., 

6000  Frankfurt  am  Main  70 


/! 


^  25115 


'in 


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6^^^^ 


if^ecHi^S: 


shij  ^^/^'^-Ofi^^roncs    nv: 


mc 


Volume  eleven  no.  1 
spring  1991 


soviel 

and 

east  european 

Performance 

drama 
theatre 


film 


(ISSN  #  1047-0018)  is  a  publication  of  the  Institute  for  Con- 

temporary  Eastern  European  Drama  and  Theatre  under  the  auspices 

Ol  the  Center  for  Advanced  Study  in  Theatre  Arts  (CASTA),  Graduate 

Center.  City  University  of  New  York.  The  Institute  Office  is  Room 

1206A.  City  University  Graduate  Center.  33  West  42nd  Street.  New 

York  NY  10036.  All  subscription  requests  and  submissions  should 

De  addressed  to  the  Editors  of  SEEP    Daniel  Gerould  and  Alma  Law. 

io^  ^  ^^^^^^  Program.  City  University  Graduate  Center,  33  West 
42rxJ  Street,  New  York,  NY  10036. 


EDITORS 

Daniel  Gerould 
Alma  Law 

ASSOCIATE  EDITOR 
Edward  Dee 

ADVISORY  BOARD 

Edwin  Wilson,  Chairman 
Marvln  Carlson 
Leo  Hecht 
Martha  W.  Coigney 

CASTA  EDITORIAL  ASSISTANT 
Richard  Brad  Medoff 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS 


CASTA  Publlcations  are  supported  by  generous  grants  from  the 
Lucille  Lortel  Chair  in  Theatre  and  the  Sidney  E.  Cohn  Chairin 
Theatre  Studies  in  the  Ph.D.  Program  in  Theatre  at  the  City  Univer 
of  New  York. 


Copyright  1991  CASTA 

SEEP  has  a  very  liberal  reprinting  policy.  Journals  and  newsletter^ 
which  desire  to  reproduce  articies,  reviews,  and  other  materiah^ 
which  have  appeared  in  SEEP  may  do  so,  as  long  as  the  followi 
provIsions  are  met: 

a.  Permission  to  reprint  must  be  requested  from  SEEP  in  wrltinjj^ 
before  the  fact. 

b.  Credit  to  SEEP  must  be  given  in  the  reprint. 

c.  Two  copies  of  the  publication  in  which  the  reprinted  material  h»^ 
appeared  must  be  furnished  to  the  Editor  of  SEEP  immediately  upon; 
publication. 


'  »**l*«m»i«i  um»—— ♦«— , 


KMtar  A  Brief  Chronolgy. 


'Kinlw 
bfUktwtKtibUka 

Knlor^  Labyrinths  of  Memoiy 


18 


29 


«toiNoChoice* 

byJadwigaKcKicka 42 


^          of  Ukraine  1990: 
IWam  AMchom  to  Mykola  Kulish' 
HL  Zaleaka  Onyshkevych 

.^^W^^^^BB  •WJilW'aKy  ••••««»«„„„, ,„,,„,„,,,,^^ 

onttwttwCuyahoga: 
•«•f*ai  Omttkni  FIm  Conference" 
K  Kn*one8^„ 


'AUght  From  the  £asr 
kMMa  Jo  Guttman 

'OarcMciat  the  Arena' 

Uo  Hecht 

Tango,  by  Slawomir  Mrozek 
Mwtlcuiu  Theatre.  New  Yori<" 


48 


58 


61 


66 


69 


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Soviet  and  East  European  Performance  Vol.  11,  No.  1 


A  UGHTFROM  THE  EAST 
Melinda  Jo  Guttman 

HM^tinn  t^Ji^V''°"l  ^^^J^^^'  Performed  at  U  MaMa.  is  the  first  pro- 
duction  of  the  Yara  Arts  Group  which  was  founded  in  1990  to  explore 
new  works  from  Eastern  Europe.  and  to  create  an  aesthetic  dSSgue 
behveen  East  and  West.  This  collective  creation.  directed  by  vE 

IxDerimLlJf.h'^T'^  '"  '^"^*^^  ^'^»"'V  ««  «  Performance  about^K^ 
expenmental  theatre  movement  in  tiie  Ulcraine 

York  artnÄ'  '''°'ü  '^®  ^^^^  '^  ^  "docudream"  in  which  the  New 
Iwlntl      l    ®^  ^"^  ^'^  ^'®  inten^^oven  with  the  iives  and  art  of  the 

?9lo  Les  Kur'h^??  °L'-'%^:!^^o"^'  '^°"P«  '"  '^'  Ukraine  in  the 
romirä  t^K^'  *°"'^®'  °'  ^^®  ^°^'^^  UX^ainian  Theatre  has  been 
compared  to  the  greatest  directors  of  his  era:  Stanisiavskv  M^ 

IS  an  Ideal  to  which  the  Yara  Arts  group  also  aspires 

The  form  of  A  Z./g/jf  From  the  East  is  both  complex  and  lucW 

of';;^«!"  ^**^^"  '^^  ^^'  °'  ^'«»°^  «"d  dream.  The  sSis  a  sS 
of  patterned  screens  reminiscent  of  Matisse's  decoupage  wliicl^are 
constantly  shifted  to  suggest  shifting  environments^aS  whteh  a  e 

h^^^h^^h  ^^^«  ^""^  ^'*'^*"'  Statements.  The  lighting  gives  a  unify- 

The  forrii  is  almost  Pirandellian.  Seven  avante-garde  actors 

mpr<?J^'i:H']K°'  '^^'^  ^^'^»'^  ^"^««»°^«-  The  old  ava??eHga'5e  s 
merged  with  the  new.  Tkacz  has  created  several  inten^oven  frames 

mii  f..  If  c''^  ^^1  °"^^'  ''^'"^  's  the  present.  post-revolutionary 
nt.  ?  f^f'®''?.  l"'°P®-  ^'^^'^  ^*^'«  '^ame  is  an  actor-lecturer  who 
presents  the  plight  of  Kurbas'  troupe  in  the  war  zone  in  post 

WnruT^?^^  ""'!if  •  J^®  •^'''^  ^'^""^  's  ♦f'e  Kiev  restaurant  in  New 
Le  'tk  V  H,°."  ^^®  ^'■®^'"s  and  psycho-histories  of  the  perform- 
ers^  The  fourth  frame  concerns  the  actors  grafting  on  the  personae 
of  Kurbas' actors  from  their  memoirs.  p   w  «e 

H„  ♦•  ^'If  if'^^  °'  '^®  P'®^®  ^^®  '^of"  *^"^bas'  diaries.  but  he  is  not 
dramatized;  his  presence  is  paradoxically  feit  through  his  absence 

l]lt°  ^^*^  ^'^  documents,  memoirs,  personal  Statements  of 
contemporary  actors.  and  in  the  center.  the  poetry  of  Taras  Shev- 
chenko  and  Pavio  Tychna  performed  bi-lingually  in  English  and 
Ukrainian.  The  movement  of  the  actors  reifies  their  movement 
!1  T^M'"'®'  spanning  silent  movies.  still  life.  dance-theatre,  and 
post-modernist  Performance. 

r,!«^  iJ,^®''®  ^"".f  '"^"y  ^®®P'y  f"oving  sections  in  this  production 
piece.  We  are  shown.  for  example.  Kurbas'  starving  actors  trying  to 


67 


asH^ET 


■*p 


bring  culture  to  the  provinces  and  chopping  down  trees  to  provide 
light  for  their  theatre  when  there  is  no  money  for  electricity.  In  the 
end,  we  are  told  that,  under  Stalin,  Kurbas  was  shot  along  with  other 
political  prisoners  arxi  thrown  into  the  sea.  This  is  juxtaposed  with 
the  terror  of  a  contemporary  scuba  dIver  who  finds  a  "forest  of 
bones"  as  testimony.  These  horrors  are  further  juxtaposed  by  one  of 
the  actors  presenting  his  own  comic,  Ironie  struggle  in  playing 
Romeo  without  a  balcony.  and  separated  from  Juliet  by  a  pit. 
However,  the  reaching  of  hands  toward  each  other  over  the  pit 
creates  a  spatial  tension  like  the  space  between  Michelangelo's 
God's  band  to  Adam's  finger.and  the  absurd  obstacle  is  trans- 

cended. 

Kurbas  was  influenced  by  the  Ukrainian  philosopher, 
Skovoroda,  In  finding  vocal  and  physical  exercises  that  would  open 
up  the  Spiritual  'bliss"  of  the  actor.  His  precise  work  is  unknown  but 
is  obviously  related  to  Grotowski's  search  for  the  'sacral  life  of  the 
human  spirit.' 

The  final  projection  Is  that  of  Kurisas'  Berezil  Artistic  Associa- 
tion in  1922,  with  the  caption,  "I  had  a  dream  that  I  saw  us  in  the 
future."  The  members  of  the  Yara  Arts  Group  are  competent  per- 
formers,  but  not  technically  or  affectively  startling  or  innovative. 
Their  intensity,  and  poetle  authenticity,  however,  do  give  us  light  from 
the  east:  the  power  of  the  artistic  and  political  dream  in  history,  and 
the  history  of  the  theatrical  dream. 


68 


Soviet  and  East  European  Parformance  Vbl.  11,  No.  1 


CERCEAU  AT  THE  ARENA 
Leo  Hecht 

r^  r> .  A^^'^  t®^^°"  "^^^  ^  milestone  In  the  history  of  Washington 
tTon'  l^'tT  ^*^?u  r°\°"'y  '^  **  ^^«  ^"^^^^^  anniversary  of  its  crea- 
S«  Sl  ^äf  °  ^^o  ""^'  y^'  ^°'  '^^  *°""d«^  «"d  producing  director 
onl  of  thn^    )f  •   °""."3  ^®'  '°"9  ^"^  distinguished  leadership  of 

thß  ä^Trtl  T^  ^'^^^'^  ^"'°P®^"  Pl^y«-  both  old  and  new.  to 
rhoir  o  ^"^!P-  u  '^^*'  *^'^  ^^«°"  3t  ♦^'e  Arena  will  dose  with 
?M!^^ln!lf'i^^''i  *'"''"  "^'"^'^  ^^  ^'  '^'■^^«"dler  herseif 
Ä  7h  ®  ^^'  ^^>-  ^"*'  *^«  P'^y  *^'<^fi  concerns  us  now  is  Cer- 
ceau,  the  season  s  opening  production  at  the  Kreeger  Theatre  the 
prosceniurn  stage  at  the  Arena  (October  12-DecemtSr  3,  ?£ 

Viktor  Slavkin.  the  author  of  Cerceau,  began  his  theatrical 

Stete  Universrty  founded  by  Mark  Rozovsky  in  the  1960s.  (It  inciden- 

S laClJnToS  N  '1'  ?^'''  '''^'''  ^'"^'° '"  ^°«<^°*)  While  there. 
n  onn  il° »  ^'L^"""'  .°"®;^*'*  P'^^'  ^"^  ^««^  Apartment,  for  the 
n  av^hl  /^  ^"^,'^^°"^'  Deputation  in  1979,  when  his  fuil-length 
tn^fJu  ^'°^"-^P  Daughter  of  a  Young  Man,  was  steged  by 
Ä  h«Ä''  '^"  Stanislavsky  Theatre  in  Moscow  Other^s 
n  hot  nno  Lr^^"  '  c""^^  '^^  '""-'«"9th  Smoking  Room.  and  two 
rnZi?t^n  P'^^'-  '^'°^^  ^"^  Chattanooga  Choochoo.  In  1984  he 
waTÄS!."'^'  ^1'f  ^  ^^"^  Phenomenal  success  in  1985  when  it 
was  irst  produced  at  MoscoWs  Taganka  Theatre,  also  under  the 
d.rect«n  of  Anatdy  Vasilyev.  The  production  subsequentiy  tour^  to 

Ä^'  J"^"l  ^"^  ""^"y  t°  t^«  t987  International  Festival  of  the 
Arts  in  London  where  it  created  a  Sensation. 

Höhnt  m®?'*  production  of  Cerceaü  marks  its  English  language 
t^nrJ^  translators  are  Fritz  Brun.  internationally  known  as  an 

Sn  Sc  nt"'''*°M^"'^  "^"^'^^  pedagogue,  and  Laurence 
Masion,  Arena  s  üterary  Manager  and  Dramaturg.)   Liviu  Ciulei  a 

maiorfigure  in  the  pantheon  of  international  theatre  and  no  stranger 

ir.?  «  ^-^f'.^"®^^®^  ^"^  designed  the  set  for  the  production. 
Apparently  Ciulei  studied  the  Video  tapes  of  the  original  Vasilyev  pro- 

In*;^"'  "^f  3?^^'y  '"ipressed  by  it,  but  did  not  attempt  to 
reproduce  it  for  the  Arena.  Overall,  the  production  had  a  very  suc- 
cessful  run  despite  mixed  reviews  which  were  more  the  result  of  a 
failure  to  understand  the  Soviet  reality  Slavkin  depicts.  than  anv 
weaknesses  In  the  production.  ^ 

Leonid  Brezhnev's  death  in  1 982  brought  to  an  end  a  hiqhiv 
refn?7^r!I?  '°'  f  *  .^  ^1''  ^"^  ^'^  ""*  V®*  adequately  loosen  thi 
Z2  In  l^  17?®'*J^^.®;^u^""  ^"^^°P°^  t°°k  over  on  an  Interim 
basis.  In  1984,  when  Yuri  Chemenko  assumed  leadership.  everyone 


69 


:v.?l 


Die  jüdischen  Friedhöfe 

in  Frankfurt 


Mit  Fotos  von  Klaus  Meier-Ude 
und  Texten  von  Valentin  Senger 


Verlag  Waldemar  Kramer 
Frankfurt  am  Main 


IN  THE  $AME  SERIES: 

Principles  of  Aromatherapy 
Cathy  Hopkins 

Principles  of  Buddhism 
Kulananda 

Principles  of  Colonic  Irrigation 
Jillie  Collings 

Principles  of  the  Enneagram 
Karen  Webh 

Principles  of  Hypnotherapy 

Vera  Peiffer 

Principles  of  NLP 
Joseph  O'Connor  and  lan  McDermott 

Principles  of  Nutritional  Therapy 
Linda  Lazarides 

Principles  of  Paganism 
Vivianne  Crowley 

Principles  of  Self-Healing 
David  Lawson 

Principles  of  Tarot 
Evelyne  and  Terry  Donaldson 


y\\^<\yi<^S 


SHAMANISM 

LEO  RUTHERFORP 


"*i 


^\ 


Thorsons 

An  Imprim  of  HarpcrCollins/W>/w/?erj 


^'.'.\  '\\^_fV^^,.'\\' 


t^'HYt-'  z^.  -f^- ' 


Thorsons 

An  Imprint  of  HarperCollinsPwb/isfi^rs 

77-85  Fulham  Palace  Road 

Hammersmith,  London  W6  8JB 

1160  Battery  Street 

San  Francisco,  California  94111-1213 

First  published  by  Thorsons  1996 

13579  10  8642 

©  Leo  Rutherford,  1996 

Leo  Rutherford  asserts  the  moral  right  to 

be  identified  as  the  author  of  this  work 

A  catalogue  record  for  this  book  is  available  from  the 

British  Library 

ISBN  0  7225  3321  7 

Printed  and  bound  by 

Caledonian  International  Book  Manufacturing,  Glasgow 

All  rights  reserved.  No  part  of  this  publication  may  be 
reproduced,  stored  in  a  retrieval  System,  or  transmitted, 

in  any  form  or  by  any  means,  electronic,  mechanical, 
photocopying,  recording  or  otherwise,  without  the  prior 

permission  of  the  publishers. 


■■■'iÄ 


'-  c 


Acknowle 
Introducti 
A  Mid-Lil 

What  is  S 
The  Woi 
Introduc 

APrac^ 
ThcSwl 

Dance  a 
^  Gifts  (tu 
%    Shamai 


f\(l 


"^//^ 


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f^ßdHTMä:'^ 


5// 3   f^'^CHO  i^N^L^t^-^  ZUL^^flfirfm^      UM^^r^h 


.  .**v>IM>*^  *  'Vs.yy»>.v,;^^^., 


'^'«OM««L«^^.«  .V  .yiM««^^ 


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'•>-«i*«' 


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KT   POLli    KUIKXEU    I.V    SO  \1  .\  1 ,1  Tlü.\. 

'»'iipti-s  Ulli-  jilic:|(i;ir,ij)Uic  ile  luiilfur. 


Fig.  72,      Regnard.  Les  mulaäies  epidhniqm's  de  /'esprit  (1887) 


Fig.  102.  Brouillet.  Line  le(;on  dinique  de  Charcot. 

Daudet,  «des  ciients  de  ClKircol  fort  ennuyes  de  la  disparition 
d'un  signe  ou  d*im  reflexe,  qifils  savaient  partieulierement  eher 


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««MM 


•<»«■ 


CATALEPS[E    TUODUITE    IM  R    LE   SOM   BRUSQl'E    D'L'M   TAM-TAM. 


^  o> 


Planche  XV. 


D^BUT  DE  L'ATTAQUE 


Fig.  45 


Retard.  Photographie  d^Augusüm. 


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Planclie  XX  W 


ÄTTITUDES    PASSIONNELLES 


CRUCIFIKMENT 


-i 


I  • 


Fk.  107. 


Regnard.  IMiotographie  d'Aimustiiic. 
Iconographie.,.   loinc  II. 


CATALEPSIE    PUODÜlTiJ    P  A  R    LE    SOP«   ßRüSaUK    ü'VN    TAM-TAM 

D'apri»  uu«  {»h«loyrai.hie  de  rauteur. 


Fig.  88.      Regnard .  Les  maladies  epiämtiques  de  respni  ( 1 887) 


kv*  /■ 


■seJ 


Planche  XVIII. 


ATTITUDES    PASSIONNELLES 


-M  KNACK 


Fig.  57      R6gnard.  Photographie  d'Augustine. 
konographie...  Tome  II. 


1 


**■ 


IManche  XXIV 


ATTITUDES    PASSIONNELLES 


IIAIJ.ÜCIXVTIOXS    UE    LOl  Ih: 


F^g.  59,      Regnard.  Photographie  d'Augustine. 
(amographie...  Fonie  U 


Planche  XXVI i 


ATTITUDES    PASSIONNELLES 


MEXACE 


Fig.  58.      R^gnard.  Photographie  d'Augustinc. 
fconographie...  lomc  11. 


*■<:       $rS 


I 

I 


^^*%. 


<«ip^ 


*, 


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VM- 


m 


Planche  XIX 


ATTITUDES  PASSIONNELLES 


APPKl, 


Fig.  6().      Regnard.  Photographie  dV\ugustine 
Iconographie. . .  Tome  IL 


*«l* 


Flanelle  XX. 


ATTITUDES    PASSIONNELLES 


>i  riM.rt  ATioN   \.M<ti  i{i:r>K 


'^vwvv\»xv»»^>»^MM^'^Xiwwi^Affrf>MvwwwwMwwv^^w^M^wvwyyt^ 


Fig.  61 .      Regnard.  Photographie  d' Aiigustirie 
fconographie..,  Tome  ü. 


i^ 


^ 


Pkncb«*  XMl 


ATTITUDES    PASSlONNELLES 


KHuiiNMi: 


^«  62. 


Regnard,  Ph 
lamographie. . 


paphie  trAugusiine 
Tome  II. 


in  facuities,.. 
froniispice. 


franes 

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PUnehe  XXIL 


ATTITUDES    PASSIONNELLES 

EXTASK    (1870). 


Fig,  63.      Regnard.  Ph< Biographie  d  Augustine 
Iconographie,..  Tome  IL 


l»*»»»i»;.t«s%.  ■  ^w^w*^^*^»^  ^»mdaiM'M'.yowss^iXss 


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:■ 


Planche  XXVI. 


ATTfTUDES    PASSIONNELLES 


MOQÜERIE 


Fig,  65.      Regnard,  Photographie  d'Au^ 
konagraphie...  I  orne  II, 


uine. 


**»*'*'y'WPKm(»mw»a<gtfwi»,wvv,i.yn^,^ 


Planche  XIV 


LETHARGIE 

HYPEREXCITABILITK    MÜSCCLAIRE 


s 


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lamographie...  lome  ÜI. 


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Planche  XXIII 


ATTITUDES    PASSIONNELLES 


H\TA8E    il878). 


*5 


ii 


Fig.  64.      Regnard,  Photographie  dVXugustine 
Iconographie,,.  Tome  II.