Dr. Nahum Fischelson is a Jewish intellectual who has studied in Switzerland and has achieved some fame as a commentator on the works of Benedict de Spinoza, the seventeenth century Dutch philosopher. As the story opens, Fischelson is a poor old man with a stomach ailment that the doctors cannot diagnose. He lives on an annuity of five hundred marks provided by the Jewish community of Berlin. In an attic room overlooking Market Street in Warsaw, he pursues his study of Spinoza’s Ethics, brooding on the great philosopher’s ideas about the divine laws of reason and about the infinite extension of God. He views the stars through his telescope, seeing in them examples of Spinoza’s insight and vision, while below him in the street humankind, blind to Spinoza’s sense of ethical propriety, pursues its finite passions.
The chaotic crowd on Market Street is composed of shopkeepers, peddlers, thieves, prostitutes, thugs, police officers, and drunks. Across the street, Jewish boys are toiling over books in the study house. Fischelson is remote from them all, having become more and more isolated over the years. When he first returned from Zurich as a doctor of philosophy, much was made of him in his community. He became the head librarian of the Warsaw synagogue and more than one rich girl was offered to him for marriage. He would not marry, however, preferring to remain as free as his idol Spinoza, and he lost his job as librarian because his ideas clashed with those of the rabbi. He supported himself as a tutor in Hebrew and German, but then he became sick and had to give it up. He no longer goes to the café as he had, for intellectual stimulation and the company of his peers. The Revolution of 1905, moreover, brought such chaos to the society with which he was familiar that it further isolated him. Ideas and even language have changed for the worse, as far as he is concerned, and the crowd-pleasing philosophy of the time infuriates him, despite Spinoza’s warning against emotions.
Then World War I starts, and fear is added to Fischelson’s illness. Military convoys pass through Market Street, and his subsidy from Berlin is abruptly cut off. He returns to the café he once frequented, but no one there is familiar to...
(The entire section is 919 words.)