Yiddish Folktales

by Beatrice Weinreich

  Often, mesholim originated with religious teachers who were also master storytellers like Yankev Krants (1741–1804), called the dubner maged, the Preacher of Dubno, whose “Naked Truth and Resplendent Parable” and “A Bit of Herring, a Pinch of Salt, and a Morsel of Bread” are included here. In his sermons, the dubner maged made use of folkloric materials, and his own parables, in turn, passed into folklore. Parables have been attributed to other rabbis and Hasidic rebbes as well.* In fact it is common to begin or end such tales by citing a prestigious source: “This was told by the Rebbe of Alexander when …” But ordinary folk, too, could tell parables, and a common opening is: Dos folk zogt a moshl (people tell a parable …).

  Mesholim are frequently presented as tales within tales. First, there is the framing tale, the nimshl, as in “Letting In the Light” when the Rebbe of Apt asks the Rebbe of Pshiskhe a question. Then follows the fictional situation, the moshl which takes the form of the Rebbe of Pshiskhe’s oblique, anecdotal answer. Sometimes the moral of the tale is explicitly drawn. For example, in “Things Can Always Get Worse,” the beggar who complains to God about his situation is given a humped back and another mouth to feed, and the tale concludes: “Never say that things are bad. They can always get worse.”

  In the second type of moshl, the fable, animals talk and act like the humans they represent. “Why Dogs Chase Cats and Cats Chase Mice” demonstrates a hard fact of political life. “A Fable of a Bird and Her Chicks,” which has a history in Yiddish going back at least to the seventeenth century, is an astringent commentary on the commandment “Honor thy father and thy mother.”

  The third type of tale in this section is the allegory in its most traditional form. Such tales provide the starkest picture of the life from which Yiddish folklore emerged. It is a world of grinding poverty, in which hard work brings few results. In “Poverty Grows and Grows,” the naked stranger ensconced in the poor man’s house grows fatter and fatter—too fat for the suit the man has made in order to get rid of him. Among the hundreds of “lucks” in a faraway field described in “The Luck That Snored,” a poor man’s luck is particularly sleepy, scabby, and surly. In “Wisdom or Luck?” luck accomplishes in a minute what wisdom failed to do in years. What is amazing in these tales as they address misfortune is a playfulness of tone in which there glows an optimism that is subtly defiant of the very meanness of the life that they describe so well.

  * See the glossary on this page for definitions of Yiddish terms and a guide to their pronunciation.

  * Reb is the traditional title prefixed to a man’s first name, like “Mister” in English. A rebbe (literally, “my master”) is a Hasidic spiritual leader, who may or may not also be a rabbi (or rov), an ordained graduate of a rabbinical academy, who is qualified to serve as the legal and ritual authority of a Jewish community.

  1

  Naked Truth and Resplendent Parable

  The great scholar known as the Vilna Gaon once asked the Preacher of Dubno, “Help me to understand. What makes a parable so influential? If I recite Torah, there’s a small audience, but let me tell a parable and the synagogue is full. Why is that?”

  The dubner maged replied, “I’ll explain it to you by means of a parable.

  “Once upon a time Truth went about the streets as naked as the day he was born. As a result, no one would let him into their homes. Whenever people caught sight of him, they turned away or fled. One day when Truth was sadly wandering about, he came upon Parable. Now, Parable was dressed in splendid clothes of beautiful colors. And Parable, seeing Truth, said, ‘Tell me, neighbor, what makes you look so sad?’ Truth replied bitterly, ‘Ah, brother, things are bad. Very bad. I’m old, very old, and no one wants to acknowledge me. No one wants anything to do with me.’

  “Hearing that, Parable said, ‘People don’t run away from you because you’re old. I too am old. Very old. But the older I get, the better people like me. I’ll tell you a secret: Everyone likes things to be disguised and prettied up a bit. Let me lend you some splendid clothes like mine, and you’ll see that the very people who pushed you aside will invite you into their homes and be glad of your company.’

  “Truth took Parable’s advice and put on the borrowed clothes. And from that time on, Truth and Parable have gone hand in hand together and everyone loves them. They make a happy pair.”

  2

  A Bit of Herring, a Pinch of Salt, and a Morsel of Bread

  The dubner maged once heard a scholar get up on the bime, the platform of the synagogue, and deliver a learned discourse, citing Biblical verses, Talmudic and rabbinic commentaries, and who knows what else. In the course of his talk, he managed to heap scorn upon the folk preacher who had spoken before him.

  When the learned man was done, the dubner maged said to him, “Let me tell you a parable that may prove useful.”

  In a certain town there once lived a great merchant, a very clever man. A very, very clever man. He observed that there were many rich and powerful people in his town, so he opened a jewelry store and had many customers. But some while later, he moved to a smaller town whose inhabitants, sad to say, were poor and threadbare.

  Seeing that, the clever merchant opened a store—no, not a store, a little shop, in which he sold herring, salt, kerosene, and other ordinary things. And with the same hands that had once handled diamonds, he now served up herrings and kerosene. And just as the merchant had been satisfied with the jewelry store, so now he was pleased with his poor little shop. No—he was actually more pleased with it; everything he did delighted him.

  Things went on like this until one day a friend from the larger town came to visit him and said, “I don’t understand. How is it fitting for a man who once sold diamonds and gems to be selling herring and salt and other such stuff?”

  The good and clever merchant replied, “I’m sorry to say that you don’t get the point. Let me tell you something: The people who live in the large city are rich. They own many jewels and they are great connoisseurs of jewelry. But in this little town, the people are poor. They work with their hands and struggle to make ends meet. They don’t need diamonds, nor do they understand them. Indeed, what they need … yes!—they need a bit of herring, a pinch of salt, and a morsel of bread.”

  3

  Things Can Always Get Worse

  Once there was a poor man who thought it was too bad that he had to go about begging for bread, and he complained about it to God. With that, a hump grew on his back, and in addition to the hump, a man grew there too, and the man had a mouth as well, and each time the beggar tried to eat a morsel of bread, the man on his back snatched it from him.

  Then the beggar prayed, “Neither erase, O Lord, nor write. Let things be the way they were.”

  And this is why one must never say that things are bad. They can always get worse.

  4

  The Luck That Snored

  Once upon a time there were two brothers, one rich and the other poor. The poor brother was a servant in his rich brother’s house. One day as he was standing guard at the gate, there came a tiny man wearing a golden cap and carrying a sack of gold on his shoulders.

  “Who are you?” the poor brother asked.

  “I’m your brother’s luck.”

  The poor brother was amazed. “Perhaps you can tell me where I can find my luck?” he said.

  “Of course I can, but it won’t do you any good,” said the tiny man. “Because he’s lying in a deserted field that’s hard to find. And your luck is mangy and run down and asleep.”

  But the poor brother begged and pleaded and wept, until finally the man took pity on him. “All right then, I’ll tell you,” he said. “Go off that way for a long, long time till you come to a field. Go past it for a long time till you come to another field, where you’ll see thousands of lucks lying asleep. Don’t wake them. Go on until you see thousands of other lucks who have just woken up. They will be sitting around yawning and scratching themselves, but don’t let that bother you. Keep going, keep se
arching until you find a luck who’s sleeping sounder than the others, and snoring louder. That one is your luck.”

  And when the little man with the gold cap had finished speaking, he disappeared.

  Early the next morning the poor brother started off in search of his luck. He walked on and on until he came to a barren field, just as the little man had said. He didn’t stop but went on until he came to another field that was equally barren. He looked about and saw a great many lucks sleeping and snoring, but he did not disturb them. He saw others who sat around yawning and scratching themselves, but he paid no attention.

  He went on and on, searching and searching, until he saw a luck that was sleeping more deeply than the others. He went up and tried to wake him: “Luck, my luck, wake up. Why do you sleep so hard?” His luck never stirred, just slept and snored. Again he tried to wake him, but nothing helped. Finally the poor man wept. “Luck, ah my luck, get up. You’ve slept enough, you’ve slept enough.”

  Then slowly, slowly, his luck opened his eyes and yawned. The poor man was delighted. “Luck, ah my luck,” he pleaded, “don’t sleep anymore. Pay attention. My wife and children are hungry. Help me. Give me something.”

  His luck said nothing. But he put a scabby hand into his breast pocket, took out a silver gulden, and handed it to the poor man.

  “What good will this do?” the man asked.

  “Some good, some good,” grumbled his luck. “Go to the marketplace and buy the first thing that comes your way.”

  The poor man went to the marketplace, where he met a peasant with a hen to sell. So he bought the hen and took it home. He went to sleep, and the hen flew up to a shelf and went to sleep too.

  When the poor man woke in the morning, he saw something gleaming on the shelf. He got out of bed and found that the hen had laid a golden egg. He woke his wife and children and showed them the golden egg, and they all danced and leaped for joy. Then the poor man took the egg and sold it for a great deal of money. And from that time on, he grew richer and richer.

  Things are well for them

  And for us, even better.

  5

  The Fever and the Flea

  Once upon a time a Fever and a Flea, meeting each other on the road, got into an argument. “You’re a nobody,” the Flea said to the Fever. “Why, you’re so unimportant that you’re invisible.”

  The poor Fever, hearing this, was terribly upset. It was more than he could bear to be talked to this way by a flea. “You,” he said angrily, “what makes you think you’re anybody? Just because you can be seen, just because you can leap about, that doesn’t make you better than me.”

  “Yes it does,” declared the Flea. “I lead a better life than you do. I wouldn’t trade mine for yours for anything.”

  The Fever, red with rage, said, “You lead a better life? You? Ha! Invisible though I am, I wouldn’t trade places with you in a million years.”

  The quarrel grew more and more heated until it seemed that the two were about to leap at each other and scratch each other’s eyes out. But finally the Fever calmed down and said, “What’s the point of arguing like this? Why don’t we try an experiment to prove beyond question which of us leads a better life?”

  “All right,” said the Flea, “I’m willing. What did you have in mind?”

  Said the Fever, “Each of us will go off and find a victim to infest for three days. At the end of that time we’ll meet and compare results. Then we’ll be able to decide which of us has the better life.”

  “Very well,” said the Flea, and they shook hands and went their ways.

  Three days later they met again. The Fever, seeing the Flea, said, “What’s the matter? You look unhappy.”

  “Ah,” said the Flea, “I’ve had a hard time. A very hard time.”

  “What happened?”

  Heaving a deep sigh, the Flea said, “After we parted, I made my way inside a palace. Ah, it was wonderful there, a veritable paradise. I spent the night in a bed that would have pleased the most demanding public official. What a bed! I wish I could describe it to you. But it’s impossible; after all, I’m a flea and not a poet.

  “At midnight just as I was sleeping most sweetly, I felt someone getting into bed with me. Ugh. Whoever it was gave off a terrible smell of brandy. I tried to ignore it, but he started tossing and turning in the bed so I couldn’t get back to sleep. ‘Well,’ thought I, ‘if that’s what you’re up to, let me show you a trick or two.’

  “Well, you know me. I’m a flea. I went after him tooth and nail. In no time I gave him a good reason to toss and turn. He was thrashing so hard I had to laugh.

  “All at once he uttered a roar that brought everyone in the palace running. ‘A flea!’ someone cried, and then every last one of them went after me. They hunted me up and down, forward and backward. It was all I could do to escape with my life.

  “And now I’ve spent the last three days just wandering, hungry and restless. Can’t seem to settle down.”

  “How sad,” said the Fever. “You’ve had a really hard time.”

  “Yes,” groaned the Flea. “But what about you? How did you make out?”

  The Fever stuck his stomach out like a gentleman and said expansively, “Ah, me. I told you I lead a good life. No sooner had I left you than I met a peasant and jumped right into him. Feeling my presence, he ran off to his house and cried to his wife, ‘Woman, I think I’ve got a fever. Get my bed ready.’

  “Well, I looked around. It was plain to see that I was in a poor man’s house, but no matter. Once the peasant was in bed, I began to do my business.

  “The man’s wife brought him a large bowl of hot soup and some black bread, so I fed nicely on that. Then, to warm us up, she covered us with some pelts and old coats.

  “Well, you can imagine how my peasant tossed and turned. Whenever I got a little bored, I would stroll about inside him. Seeing how feverish he was, his wife kept putting good things into his mouth, and of course I got my share. Mmm, mmm, it was tasty. If I hadn’t finally taken pity on him, and if we hadn’t agreed to meet in three days, I’d still be there.

  “Well, what do you think?” said the Fever. “Which of us leads the better life?”

  “You do,” the Flea admitted, and slunk away.

  6

  Why Dogs Chase Cats and Cats Chase Mice

  Once upon a time the dogs applied to the king for a decree that would forbid people to bother dogs. The king signed the decree and gave it to them, but then the dog couldn’t think of a place to put it. Finally they passed it to the cats for safekeeping, because cats are able to creep into all sorts of snug nooks and crannies. The cats took the paper and hid it in the eaves of a house.

  Sometime later, dogcatchers started rounding up dogs. “Hey,” cried the dogs, “wait a minute. We’ve got a decree from the king that says you can’t bother us.”

  “If that’s true,” said the dogcatchers, “where is it?”

  So the dogs ran to the cats and said, “We need the king’s decree that forbids anyone to bother us. Where is it?”

  “Wait a minute. We’ll go and look,” said the cats, and off they went to the eaves. The document was there all right, but the mice had gnawed it to shreds and tatters. When the dogs heard this, they were furious and chased the cats; and when the cats were chased, they were furious and chased the mice.

  And that’s how it’s ever since.

  7

  Wisdom or Luck?

  Wisdom, meeting Luck one day, got into an argument about which of them was more powerful.

  Wisdom said that nothing can be accomplished in the world without wisdom, whereas everything is possible with it. Luck, on the other hand, said, “What good is wisdom without luck? An ounce of luck is worth more than a pound of wisdom.” But Wisdom insisted that only wisdom is necessary to accomplish anything.

  As they stood quarreling, it happened that somewhere in the world a boy was born. Wisdom and Luck agreed that one of them should enter into him, and then the
y would see what he could achieve.

  So Wisdom entered into the boy, who was born to a very poor woman who was unable to provide him with any sort of education. But when he was fourteen or fifteen, a goldsmith took pity on him and made him an apprentice. The boy was so clever that it was not long before he became more skillful than the goldsmith. Seeing that there was nothing more he could learn, the boy told his master that he wanted to leave and go to a larger city. His master was sad to be losing such a good worker, but the boy was eager to make his way in the world.

  He traveled for a while until he came to the capital city, where the king lived. There he met the town’s finest tailor, who sewed for the royal family. “Let me be your apprentice,” said the boy, and the tailor agreed. Before long his master saw with astonishment that the boy was a remarkable tailor. He was continually inventing such wonderful new designs that the king wondered why his new clothes were so much better than the ones he had before. “Who is making these clothes?” the king asked the tailor.

  “I am,” replied the tailor. “I spend a lot of time thinking and thinking up new and more beautiful robes for you.” The king, hearing this, rewarded the tailor richly.

  Now, the king’s only daughter was so brilliant that no one had been able to find her a husband as clever as she. “I don’t care what rank in life he has. If he can make me talk, I’ll marry him. But let every man who wants to marry me take warning: if he’s not clever enough, it’s off with his head.” Her father had no choice but to abide by her terms.