
Zemir Aritzim, published in 1772: Under the directive of the first Rebbe of Chabad, all existing copies of Zemir Aritzim were gathered and burned, leaving only two surviving copies.
Introduction
This article—drawing extensively on the groundbreaking research of Dr Elly Moseson[1]—examines the obscure world of early Chassidic manuscripts that circulated well before the first printed, and official Chassidic book, Toledot Yaakov Yosef, in 1780. We explore the nature of the earliest Chassidic handwritten manuscripts, produced in the two decades between the passing of the Baal Shem Tov in 1760 and the publication of the first printed Chassidic book in 1780, before Chassidism became institutionalised.
R. Yaakov Yosef of Polnoye (d.c. 1782) and the first Chassidic
book
The first Chassidic text to be printed was Toledot Yaakov Yosef in 1780. It was written by R. Yaakov Yosef of Polnoye, a close disciple of the Baal Shem Tov who had passed away twenty years before, in1760. Toledot Yaakov Yosef is generally regarded as a prime document, being indeed the first printed Chassidic book. However, what is often overlooked is that numerous other Chassidic manuscripts had already been circulating during the twenty years before Toledot Yaakov Yosef was published.
The problem was that these early Chassidic manuscripts did not present a unified body of thought, but instead reflected a diverse—and at times contradictory—range of voices, styles, and spiritual emphases within the emerging Chassidic movement. Moreover, there is no evidence that R. Yaakov Yosef of Polnoye’s writings were even widely circulated in manuscript form, which raises the question of why his book, specifically, came to be chosen as the movement’s first printed text (Moseson 2026:38, n.8).
This sets a fascinating backdrop to some central questions: what was the first Chassidic text, who was its author, what was its content, and to what extent did the politics of print shape the movement’s early trajectory? The research reveals a literary world more fragmented and contested than the movement’s later image suggests.
Zemir Aritzim – the first reference to Chassidic
writings
The first explicit reference to the existence of any Chassidic writings was less than flattering. It appears, ironically, in an anti-Chassidic document titled Zemir Aritzim veCharvot Tsurim (The Cutting Down of the Mighty and the Ruins of Strongholds). The Chassidic Rebbe, R. Menachem Mendel of Vitebsk (d. 1788), sought a meeting with the Vilna Gaon, who refused to receive him. The Vilna Gaon stated that he was opposed to the new Chassidim as he was:
“in possession of an exposition of a passage of the Zohar composed by their [i.e., the Chassidic] faction, which contained heretical views” (Zemir Aritzim, 1772:14b).
There must have been some considerable body of this early Chassidic literature— quite widely circulated—because the Vilna Gaon went on to say that he was going to confiscate all:
“their books [i.e., manuscripts] and their writings… [because he found] strange writings that cannot be written about openly” (Zemir Aritzim, 1772:15a).
Then on Friday, the first of May 1772, just before Shabbat, these writings were gathered and burned in the courtyard of the main synagogue in Vilna. Unfortunately, Zemir Aritzim does not specify anything further on the nature and origins of these writings. The vehemence of the opposition suggests that the circulation of these writings was both substantial and influential. Under the directive of the first Rebbe of Chabad, all existing copies of Zemir Aritzim were gathered and burned, leaving only two surviving copies.
Writings from the circle of Dov Ber, the Maggid of
Mezeritch
Speculating on the nature and provenance of these burned texts, both Chassidim and contemporary scholars agree that these destroyed writings may not have been the work of R. Yaakov Yosef of Polnoye—the author of the first printed Chasidic book, which was only published eight years later—but rather, the writings relating to a close disciple of the Baal Shem Tov, Dov Ber, the Maggid of Mezeritch (d. 1772). Although the Maggid of Mezeritch does not appear to have committed his teachings to writing, he was a prodigious speaker, and his disciples transcribed his words, circulating them in manuscript form (which were later printed and directly, although mistakenly, attributed to him). This background already underscores the tension surrounding the question of exactly who (or whose disciples) composed the earliest Chassidic texts, which were distributed before the first printed Chassidic book (Moseson 2026:40).
[See the Some additional notes, below, where I speculate on possible Sabbatian content in some of the early manuscripts, although, in the instance of the burning of the books in Vilna, Moseson’s research leads him to consider the circle of the Maggid of Mezeritch as the possible source of this material.]
Letters attesting to the circulation of teachings of the Maggid of Mezeritch
1781 publication of Magid Devarav leYaakov (teachings of Maggid of Mezeritch)
In 1781, four years after Heller’s letters, these writings of the Maggid of Mezeritch were published in book form in Koretz, by Shlomo of Lutsk (d. 1813), under the title Magid Devarav leYaakov. The Title Page and general presentation indicate that these were the direct teachings of the Maggid of Mezeritch (d. 1772) and published with his endorsement (although he passd away nine years earlier). For our purposes, it is interesting to note that the publisher, himself a student of the Maggid of Mezeritch, Shlomo of Lutsk, also acknowledges that up to that time, these writings had been extensively hand copied and he had drawn from “a number of writings [ketavim] by a number of writers” (Magid Devarav leYaakov, Introduction).
1792 publication of Likutei Yekarim (further
teachings of Maggid of Mezeritch)
To confirm the notion of a large corpus of handwritten material in circulation during that period, a second collection of writings, also allegedly from the Maggid of Mezeritch, was published eleven years later, titled Likutei Yekarim (1792). In a Haskamah (approbation) to this publication, another disciple of the Maggid of Mezeritch, Yissachar Ber of Zlotshev (d. 1795), confirms that this second publication of the Maggid’s writings was necessary because several “new pamphlets” (kuntresim chadashim) had subsequently surfaced.
In another approbation to the same book, yet another disciple of the Maggid, Abraham Chaim of Zlotshev (d. 1816), similarly notes the practice of some students to transcribe the teachings of the Maggid “for preservation, each person according to his understanding.” These, and other manuscripts, then circulated for years. Even after the printing of Chassidic texts had commenced, these manuscripts continued to emerge and circulate, indicating that the manuscript tradition was ongoing and extensive (Moseson 2026:41).
The earliest extant Chassidic manuscript
The earliest extant Chassidic manuscript, dated 1776, is housed in the National Library of Israel and is based on several earlier manuscripts. This attests to the complex and protracted textual history of the early Chassidic manuscript tradition, while also demonstrating their considerable circulation well before the publication of the first Chassidic book.
Reevaluating Chassidic textual history
This little-known history of a flourishing genre of Chassidic manuscripts before, and even after the ‘official’ emergence of Chassidic literature with the 1780 printing of Toledot Yaakov Yosef, reshapes prevailing understandings of Chassidic textual history.
Up to this point, scholarly consensus has largely assumed, without qualification, that the early printed works were authored in full by those to whom they are attributed:
“However, given the extensive and unregulated copying of these collections and the limited knowledge about their initial dissemination, we must remain cautious in accepting this blanket attribution and consider the possibility that writings stemming from other sources were incorporated into them” (Moseson 2026:42).
The extensive manuscript corpus ‘attributed’ to the Maggid of Mezeritch
The early manuscript writings attributed to the Maggid of Mezeritch were copied quite extensively; however, the copying process extending over many years, was unregulated, resulting in various irregularities. The picture becomes even more complicated because of the more than fifteen manuscript collections containing these writings, only two make the claim that these are the exclusive teachings of the Maggid of Mezeritch—yet even these two manuscripts demonstrably include work of anonymous others as well. There are even instances where the Maggid of Mezeritch is erroneously described as Yissachar Ber, rather than Dov Ber (Moseson 2026:43, n.26).
More importantly, Tzvi Hirsh of Nadvorne (d.1802), part of the circle of the Maggid of Mezeritch (d.1772)—while citing frequently from this manuscript corpus attributed to the Maggid—never refers to the Maggid as the author. Instead, he calls these writings simply “ha’atakot,” which means “copies” or “transcriptions.” Yet, not once, in the nearly forty times that he mentions “ha’atakot,” does he credit them to his teacher, the Maggid of Mezeritch.
To complicate matters further, when Tzvi Hirsh of Nadvorne’s son, David Aryeh Leib, mentions these “ha’atakot” that his father collected, he not only refrains from attributing them to the Maggid of Mezeritch, but he refers to them as “holy writings transcribed from the great ones among the righteous and pious, both earlier and later” (Introduction, Tsemah haShem laTsevi, n.p., n.d.). Clearly, he did not link these writings exclusively to the Maggid but ascribes them to a series of anonymous sources.
In reading these so-called ‘writings of the Maggid of
Mezeritch,’ Moseson cautions against presentism—the tendency to
project modern definitions and standards of authorship back onto earlier
periods where strict authorial boundaries were rather fluid.
Who were the transcribers?
According to Shlomo of Lutsk—the publisher of Magid Devarav leYaakov—some of the transcribers were students of the Maggid of Mezeritch, although he does not reveal their names. Later tradition identified R. Shneur Zalman of Liadi (d. 1812), the first Rebbe of Chabad, as having participated in transcribing the Maggid’s teachings. However:
“Shneur Zalman’s own extensive and innovative literary efforts may be viewed as an attempt to supplant the earlier Hasidic corpus with his own new and distinctive form of Hasidic discourse. Indeed, it is striking that while Shneur Zalman occasionally quoted his master the Maggid in his own voluminous writings, he rarely if ever, quoted the early Hasidic corpus…[which, as a result,] disappeared from their own manuscript tradition, and…rarely if ever mentioned in the voluminous and rich corpus produced by subsequent Habad leaders” (Moseson 2026:62).[2]
There are even indications that R. Shneur Zalman may have actively censored earlier Chassidic literature. During the 1790s, he instructed all young visitors to his court to “bring with them the writings and transcripts [ha‘atakot] of words of Hasidism, both new and old.” They had to take an oath that they had indeed complied and no longer had these writings in their possession. They also had to inform on anyone else who had not done as instructed, whether they be “from the old people or the new or even if they are not of our people at all” (Shneur Zalman of Liadi, Igrot Kodesh, Brooklyn, 2021, 254). Ostensibly, the writings were to be handed in to be checked and to eliminate “many grave errors” that had accumulated over time, but:
“the severe inquisitorial tenor of the ordinances suggests that something more than the elimination of textual errors lay behind it “ (Moseson 2026:63, n.71).
R. Shneur Zalman of Liadi also acquired all exiting copies of the anti-Chassidic polemical work, Zemir Aritzim, and burned them.
An alternate tradition suggests that Levi Yitzchak of Berdichev (d. 1809) also participated in this enterprise of transcribing the teachings of the Maggid of Mezeritch. These theories are all uncertain because:
“[T]he existence of clear stylistic differences among even those discourses that may well originate with the Maggid indicates that more than one person was involved in transcribing them” (Moseson 2026:49).
It seems, therefore, that since these early texts cannot be ascribed to any single individual, and their transcribers remained largely anonymous, the gathering of primary source material relating to Chassidic teachings—of which the Maggid of Mezeritch’s discourses constitute the largest component—must be understood as a collective enterprise shaped by many hands over many decades.[3] The transcribers, however, had one thing in common that lent the Maggid’s teachings a homogeneous appearance:
“[T]there developed in the Maggid’s circle and apparently under his influence a paradigmatic form of discourse that included both a particular, relatively simple, hermeneutic style and a limited stock of themes, which his disciples quickly learned to imitate, both in their own sermons and in their written works” (Moseson 2026:52).
Evidence of decentralised transmission of Chassidic
teachings
While the Maggid of Mezeritch was still alive, his disciples were recording his teachings—and, at the same time, their own students were transcribing those very transcriptions—creating multiple layers of textual transmission. Despite some latter Chassidic Rebbes projecting strong, direct, authoritative and stable lines of transmission (see Some additional notes below), the opposite appears to have been the case. This supports Ada Rapoport-Albert’s theory of a decentralised transmission of Chassidic teachings. This means that the students of the Maggid of Mezeritch essentially operated independently, “leading their own autonomous groups of followers even during his lifetime” (Moseson 2026:53).
The early printed collections (1780-1800s)
The early printed collections like Toledot Yaakov Yosef (1780), Magid Devarav leYaakov (1781), Likutei Yekarim (1792), and Tzavaat meRivash (1793), attempted to stabilise the previously fluid manuscript tradition. It did so by retroactively attributing them to ultimately one author, either the Baal Shem Tov or the Maggid of Mezeritch.
Later, in 1805, sections of these previous printed works were consolidated, forming a new work, Darkei Yesharim, allegedly compiled by Menachem Mendel of Premislan (d. 1772)—who had passed away thirty-three years earlier(!)—and claiming to be based on the teachings of the Baal Shem Tov and the Maggid of Mezeritch.
Darkei Yesharim and problematic teachings of Deveikut
Darkei Yesharim appears
to be an independent work (whether or not its author was Menachem Mendel of
Premislan). It also seems to have originally been part of a larger work, which
at some stage “had lost its textual integrity and become dispersed
throughout the early Hasidic corpus” (Moseson 2026:55). Furthermore, Darkei
Yesharim itself underwent some degree of censorship and textual
modification, “certain passages were deemed overly radical by a copyist or
editor who decided to alter the text to render it less problematic”
(Moseson 2026:55).
The problematic sections included controversial teachings like the injunction to pause from one’s Torah study and focus the mind on Deveikut (attachment or clinging to G-d). In some formulations, this emphasis on Deveikut was taken further, to the point that even the performance of the commandments could be portrayed as a potential distraction from the higher goal of mystical attachment. Such passages, which seemed to subordinate Halachic observance to inward spiritual experience, were particularly sensitive and became subject to censorship and textual modification in later transmission.
The censorship not only removed and excised these controversial sections, but also added new text. The new text was overtly apologetic and:
“contrary to the original intent
of the passage, stress the need to study as much [Torah] as possible as well as
to be stringent in regard to the letter of the law even if doing so might
detract from one’s devekut” (Moseson 2026:55, n.56).
The censored version was printed much later, in 1911, as part of the work Likutei Amarim. However, the earlier manuscript tradition shows evidence of what the earlier uncensored versions would have looked like. The earliest extant Chassidic manuscript from 1776, as mentioned, is found in the National Library of Israel. The copyist first recorded that censored version, but later, upon discovering the uncensored version, included it as well (Moseson 2026:56).
Strikingly, the earliest handwritten manuscript traditions often contain ideas that are conspicuously absent from later Chassidic practice. In these early manuscript texts, Deveikut (attachment to G-d) features—not only predominantly—but as:
“one of the most radical and sustained presentations of the ideal of devekut in the Jewish tradition. Not only is devekut promoted as the single most important goal of religious life—something that can already be found in earlier pietistic works—but all religious and mundane activities are systematically revaluated in relation to this supreme ideal, and, with few exceptions, anything that interferes practically or psychologically with its implementation is rejected” (Moseson 2026:57).
Now we can understand why later generations of Chassidim felt compelled to censor or modify earlier texts that appeared to negate Torah study or even mitzvah observance in favour of mystical Deveikut. Those early texts were considered problematic and thus reworked to safeguard the movement’s legitimacy and alignment with normative practice.
Conclusion
The early manuscript tradition predating the first printed Chassidic works is crucial for understanding the development of Chassidism before it became institutionalised. Tragically, many Chassidic manuscripts were destroyed in the Vilna fire of 1772 under the instruction of the Vilna Gaon. The surviving handwritten texts reveal how unregulated transcription, creative reworking, and other interventions—including deliberate censorship—reshaped the face of original Chassidism. By examining these manuscripts, we gain insight into the movement’s formative stage, when its ideas were still fluid, contested, and transmitted in raw form, before later Chassidic leaders asserted ownership of the movement and, in some cases, retroactively reframed or distorted the original narrative to support emerging dynasties.
So, to answer the question posed by the title of this study,
“Where are the first Chassidic texts?”—Many were burned in the fire in
Vilna in 1772 under the instruction “of the Vilna Gaon, many were were ‘checked
and amended’ by the first Rebbe of Chabad, and of those that
remained, many were subjected to some considerable degree of censorship.
Some additional notes
Moseson has produced fascinating and groundbreaking research,
illuminating the little‑known world of early Chassidic
literature. It is noteworthy, however, that his article—concerned as it is with
a contested historical narrative—does not engage with the question of Sabbatianism
at all. Moseson acknowledges that “the factors that led to a strong
opposition to Hasidism were multiple and complex.” It seems possible,
therefore, that the “heretical” and “strange writings that cannot be
written about openly” may have alluded to writings of such or a similar
nature, considering the Gaon’s own explicit accusations that the Chassidim
maintained ties to Sabbatianism. I'm just suggesting that this
possibility should not be excluded.
Moseson also does not refer to the Kherson Geniza, which projected a vast handwritten literary corpus of approximately one thousand communications from this very same formative period. These were claimed to be genuine writings, and the earliest of Chassidic manuscripts, some allegedly emanating from the Baal Shem Tov himself. Moseson’s omission, however, is perfectly understandable, given that most scholars dismiss the Kherson Geniza as a forgery.
Nevertheless, he does include a reference to R. Shneur Zalman (the first Chabad Rebbe), whose distinct project was the consolidation of the Chabad movement, a process that entailed the marginalisation and active suppression of other non-Chabad Chassidic writings (when the followers had to hand in and declare under oath that they no longer possesses ‘foreign’ Chassidic literature, as discussed).
In this light, the handwritten documents of the Kherson Geniza could be seen as aligning with this broader ‘consolidation’ project, particularly insofar as R. Yosef Yitzchak Schneerson, the sixth Lubavitcher Rebbe, deployed it in a similar strategic manner to elevate the stature of Chabad in relation to other Chassidic traditions in pre-war Europe.
Forgery or not, R. Schneerson’s literary appropriation of
the Kherson Geniza writings (300 of which he published in Warsaw between
1935 and 1938) served to create a form of Chassidic factional elitism at
a time when the movement was fractured and undergoing hardship. There was
competition from other Chassidic groups. The Kherson Geniza texts
purported to establish a straight, exclusive and royal line of transmission
through alleged private communications from the Baal Shem Tov directly to
the Maggid of Mezeritch, and subsequently to R. Shneur Zalman—while
deliberately excluding other Chassidic dynastic traditions. This projected,
elitist and strategic line of authoritative transmission and legacy remains
fundamental to the group’s self-understanding today.
[1]
Moseson, E., 2026, ‘The Emergence of Hasidic Literature A Reexamination’, The
Jewish Quarterly Review, vol. 116, no.1,35-65.
[3]
It must be noted that anonymity in traditional mystical texts may not simply be
the result of imprecision or negligence, but can also reflect a: “psychological
impulse toward anonymity that has been identified by Elliot Wolfson as a
feature of the literary activities of certain medieval kabbalistic circles”
(Moseson 2026:53, n.48). See: Wolfson, E.R., 2016, ‘Anonymity and the
Kabbalistic Ethos: A Fourteenth- Century Supercommentary on the Commentary on
the Sefirot’, Kabbalah, vol. 35, 56-64.
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