he history of theology and philosophy, was Solomon
Maimon (Nieszvicz, Lithuania, 1754--Niedersiegersdorf, Silesia, 1800).
In his famous autobiography is mirrored the lot of hundreds of his
countrymen who, like him, left their homes and hearths, their nearest
and dearest, and led a wretched and miserable existence, all because
they were anxious to be _ma'amike be-hakmah_ ("delvers in knowledge"),
as he himself might have said, and avail themselves of the opportunities
for acquiring the truth and wisdom unattainable in their own land.

But Maimon was doomed to suffer abroad even more than at home. He was
one of those unfortunates whose sufferings are regarded as
well-deserved. His exceptional ability was never to develop to its
fullest capacity. Great injustice has been done to him, not only by the
rabid orthodox, who denied him a grave in their cemetery, but even by
the enlightened historian Graetz. Fortunately he left behind him his
_Lebensgeschichte_, among the best of its kind in German literature, in
which, with the frankness of a Rousseau, he described the events of his
short and checkered career.[24]

From this admirable work, in which he neither hides his follies nor
flaunts his talents, we learn that Maimon possessed rare virtues. His
sympathy for the poor, his ready helpfulness even at the sacrifice of
himself, rendered him as uncommon in moral action as in philosophic
speculation. To the English reader a striking parallelism suggests
itself between him and his contemporary Oliver Goldsmith. Both were
afflicted with generosity above their fortunes; both had a "knack at
hoping," which led frequently to their undoing; neither could subscribe
easily to the "decent formalities of rigid virtue"; and, as of the
latter we may also say of the former, in the language of a reviewer, "He
had lights and shadows, virtues and foibles--vices you cannot call them,
be you never so unkind."

As Goldsmith came to London, so came Maimon to Berlin, "without friends,
recommendation, money, or impudence." His only luggage was two
manuscripts: a commentary on the works of Maimuni, whose name he had
adopted, and to whom he paid divine reverence; and a treatise in which
he attempted to rationalize the recondite doctrines of the Cabbala, and
which he always kept by him "as a monument of the struggle of the human
mind after perfection in spite of all hindrances which were put in its
way." The little bundle, which, to the zealot Jewish el