Yiddish Folktales

by Beatrice Weinreich

“And, Great Emperor, you should also know that the viceroy is tormenting the Jews of your kingdom. He has exacted tribute from us and has not given you a groshn. He squanders it all even as he skins us Jews alive.

  “Now he has killed a Gentile boy and thrown the corpse into Reb Azriel’s house, creating a blood libel. Great Emperor, stand by us. Issue a proclamation to delay the execution while you determine whether I am telling the truth.”

  The emperor called in his general. “Take a regiment of soldiers,” he said, “and go to Amsterdam. Delay the decree. Search the viceroy’s house. If you find proof of wickedness, carry out whatever sentence he deserves.”

  Reb Kashmen returned miraculously to the synagogue. It was time for nile, the concluding Yom Kippur prayers. When the late-evening service was done, he said, “Brothers, go and break your fast. Let those of you who have food give it to those who have none. Things will be well. Reb Azriel will be saved.”

  In the morning after daybreak, crowds of Gentiles began to gather on all the roads from all corners of the land. Whole villages arrived bringing ladder-wagons to carry away Jewish property. They were armed with scythes and rakes and axes. But no Jews appeared anywhere. They had shut themselves up in cellars and attics.

  The gallows had been erected in the market square, and there the Gentiles massed. At the time decreed, Reb Azriel was led in. The chains on his feet made it hard for him to walk, so he was driven along with blows from gun butts. He went quietly. So much goodness glowed in his face that the Gentiles fell silent and did not touch him.

  As the guards were setting Reb Azriel under the gallows to throw the noose over his neck, the viceroy—that Haman—said, “Do you want to live? Then become a convert.”

  Reb Azriel raised his eyes to heaven and cried, “Shma Yisroel, Hear, O Israel.” Then he was silent. As the executioners were about to begin, shots were heard and the crowd saw riders approaching. The general arrived and handed the emperor’s orders to the viceroy. The noose was removed from Reb Azriel’s neck. The general quietly signaled his men to watch the viceroy, and his riders surrounded the viceroy’s palace. When the soldiers began to search, they found papers describing a plot to kill the emperor and usurp his kingdom. So the viceroy was hanged on the gallows that had been prepared for Reb Azriel.

  The Gentiles scattered like mice, while the Jews left their hiding places and crowded into the streets, kissing and embracing each other for joy.

  It was clear that the instrument of their happiness was Reb Kashmen, yet he was nowhere to be seen. They went to his room, but it was empty. Riders were sent out on all the roads, and they found him at last in a forest. Throwing themselves at his feet, they said, “Holy Rabbi, don’t leave us.”

  Reb Kashmen said, “There is no further need for me here. I must go wherever Jews are troubled, wherever a Haman has risen.”

  Then he and his wife and daughter disappeared.

  When the emperor returned to Amsterdam, he was sorry to hear that Reb Kashmen was gone. “I didn’t even get to thank him,” he said.

  From that time on, the emperor bestowed many favors on the Jews. He excused them from taxes, and there was prosperity and abundance on all sides. And they all thanked the Creator and lived happily.

  This shocking tale has been told so that later generations may know and remember what once came to pass.

  * Haman is the anti-Semitic viceroy at the court of King Ahasuerus in the Book of Esther, which is read every Purim.

  61

  The Leper Boy and Elijah the Prophet

  Once upon a time a poor leper boy used to sit on a box in the middle of a great square, and people who went by gave him what bits of food they could. One day a carriage drove up and out stepped a man—it was Elijah the Prophet—who said to the boy, “I’m an uncle of yours and I’m going to make you respectable.”

  “Good, Uncle,” said the boy.

  Then Elijah took the boy with him in the carriage and they rode off to a forest. There he pulled the boy’s hat off and threw it up into a tree, and the boy’s skin turned clean and healthy. Then the Prophet washed the boy, dressed him in fine new clothes, and had him apprenticed to a baker.

  Some time later Elijah visited the boy and asked, “How is it, being a baker?”

  “Not so good,” said the boy. “I often burn my hands.”

  “Well, what would you like to be?” asked Elijah.

  “Uncle dear,” said the boy, “maybe I’d like to be a tailor.”

  So Elijah apprenticed him to a tailor.

  Some time later the prophet visited the boy and asked, “How is it, being a tailor?”

  “Not so good, Uncle dear. I keep sticking myself with the needles.”

  “Well, what would you like to be?” asked Elijah.

  “Uncle dear, maybe I’d like to be a shoemaker.”

  So Elijah apprenticed him to a shoemaker.

  Some time later he visited the boy and asked, “And how is it, being a shoemaker?”

  “Uncle dear, being a shoemaker isn’t working out too well either. I keep banging my knees and smearing my hands.”

  “Well, what would you like to be?” asked Elijah.

  “I’d like to be a barber-surgeon.”

  So Elijah had him trained as a barber-surgeon.

  Some time later he visited the boy and asked, “How is it, being a barber-surgeon?”

  “Uncle dear, not good. I’m at everyone’s beck and call. I’m constantly running around setting leeches on patients.”

  “Well, what would you like to be?” asked Elijah.

  “I think I’d like to be a doctor,” replied the boy. And so Elijah had him trained as a doctor.

  Some time later he visited the boy and asked, “And how is it, being a doctor?”

  “Uncle dear, that’s not so good either. For a doctor there’s neither night nor day. I’m constantly running to the homes of my patients.”

  “Well,” said Elijah, “what would you like to be?”

  “Uncle dear,” said the boy, “I think I’d like to be a merchant.”

  So Elijah had him trained as a merchant. But being a merchant didn’t please the boy either, and he asked for a career in the army. Elijah had the boy trained successively as a company commander, a battalion commander, a brigade commander, a corps commander, and an army commander. Always the boy was unhappy, either because he was too low on the chain of command or because his responsibilities were too heavy.

  Finally Elijah said, “Well then, what would you like to be, my son?”

  “I’d like to be the czar,” said the boy.

  “Very well,” said Elijah. “Be the czar and rule the country well.”

  Some time later Elijah visited the boy and asked, “Well, what’s it like, being the czar?”

  “Not too good,” replied the boy. “I’ve got to worry about the whole country.”

  “Well, my son, what would you like to be?”

  “Uncle,” replied the boy, “Maybe I’d like to be God Himself.”

  “Well,” said Elijah, “let’s go up to Heaven, and we’ll hear what God has to say about it.”

  “Perhaps now you’ll understand,” said God to Elijah the Prophet, “that sometimes I actually know what I’m doing. And now you, Elijah, come over here with me. As for you … you leper … creep back to your box where you belong.”

  62

  The Trustees

  Once there was a man and his wife, Khaim and Shifre, who had two children. One Saturday morning while Khaim was off in the synagogue, the children were taken suddenly ill and died.

  When Khaim came home, he sat down to eat and said to Shifre, “Where can the children be?”

  “They’re playing with other children in the neighbor’s courtyard,” Shifre replied.

  After Khaim finished his tsholnt, his Sabbath bean and barley stew, he went back to the synagogue and stayed for the late-evening prayers. When he returned, he sat down to eat but the food somehow did not agree with him. So he asked Shifre agai
n, “Have the children been home since this morning?”

  “Yes, they were only just here. They ate and then went back out to play.”

  While Khaim ate, Shifre asked his opinion about a matter of religious law. “If someone leaves something in the care of someone else and then later comes to reclaim it, is the person to whom the thing has been entrusted required to give it back?”

  Khaim said, “What a question! Of course he must give it back. At once, without another word.”

  “In that case,” Shifre said, “come with me into the other room. I want to show you something.”

  When Khaim followed her and saw that the children were dead, he began to tear his hair.

  “Hush,” Shifre said. “You said it yourself. If one entrusts something to another person and then comes and asks for it again, it must be given back. God entrusted the children to us and now He has taken them back again.”

  63

  A Tragic Tale

  Once upon a time there was a brother and sister who were very rich. Because they did not want their fortune divided, they decided they would never marry but would live with each other.

  The sister became pregnant, and people in the town began to talk. Fingers were pointed at the couple as at the most sinful pair in the world. And when the day came that the sister gave birth, anger blazed up against them so that they had to move away. They sold their possessions and divided the money, and each of them went to a different town. In her new home the woman let it be known that she was a young widow. And to hide the fact of her sin, she decided to get rid of the infant. She wrapped it up and put it into a basket along with two thousand rubles. Then she wrote a letter explaining that the child was Jewish and that the money would belong to whoever raised him.

  After the woman had left the basket at the door of the synagogue, the first person to come along was the melamed, the schoolteacher. He unwrapped the baby boy, found the money and the letter, and decided to raise the child himself. With the help of a wet nurse, the infant thrived and grew.

  The child was hardly three years old when he asked to be sent to kheyder, where he soon showed signs of genius. This made the other children unhappy, so they called him “bastard.” One day when he was demonstrating formidable scholarly powers and the rabbi was praising him, another pupil called out, “If we’d been found in the synagogue, we’d be as smart as he is.”

  Now, this distressed the boy terribly, and, with tears in his eyes, he insisted that the teacher tell him the truth. The melamed, seeing that it would be worse if he did not, showed him the letter and told him everything. So the boy packed his things and took the two thousand rubles, which the teacher had saved for him. Then he went away to study in a distant city, where nobody knew his secret.

  When he was nineteen, his mother too came to that city. She was very rich and wanted a husband, but because she was already some forty years old, she could not expect to marry a wealthy young man. So she went to the head of the yeshiva, who proposed the nineteen-year-old genius to her as a groom. And soon they were married.

  But sometime after their wedding, when she was returning from the mikve, the ritual bath, certain signs appeared in her that showed she was impure. The young man pleaded with her to tell him if she had any sin on her conscience, and finally she told him everything.

  Early the next morning the young man went away, taking with him what was left of the two thousand rubles. He wandered through villages and towns until he came to a village inn, and there he stayed.

  By day he was not seen at all; he appeared only at night. The innkeeper thought his behavior suspicious and began to spy on him. He found that the young man usually walked far into the forest, put on a talis and tfiln, and beat his chest and wept as he prayed. At last the innkeeper told him that it was a sin to punish oneself so severely, but the young man explained that he was doing penance.

  A while later, the young penitent noticed a vacant cellar near the inn. He begged the innkeeper to lock him in there and throw the key away. The innkeeper wouldn’t hear of it, but when the young man offered him a hundred rubles, he allowed himself to be persuaded. He gave the penitent two loaves of bread and a pitcher of water, locked the cellar, and threw the key away. Then he forgot about him.

  It happened that a tsadek died in a certain town and the townspeople did not know who was worthy to take his place. But before the saintly man expired, he told them to send the most distinguished of the congregation out to search for a man locked in a cellar, because that man was worthy to be their rabbi.

  The townspeople traveled here and there until they found the penitent in his cellar. They asked him to be their rabbi, but at first he refused. When they explained who it was that had sent them, he told them to come back in a month. At that time he agreed to become the rabbi of their town, and people began traveling to him from all over to get his blessing or his advice.

  Among them came the woman who was both his mother and his wife. He had a divine presentiment that she would arrive, and he gave orders that no richly dressed woman was to be admitted into his presence. She saw, however, that there seemed to be some objection to her wealthy clothes, so she dressed herself anew like a poor woman. When she was at his door, he cried out, “Reboyne shel oylem, O Lord of the Universe, why dost Thou punish me?” And she fell dead on the spot.

  He sat for the prescribed days of mourning on her behalf, and when he was asked why, he replied that it was because she had died in his house.

  64

  Upon Me

  There once was a Polish noblewoman who had a large estate. There was a hut in one of her woods in which an old woman lived. She was a lonely old woman who had no relatives and who lived on what bits of cooked and baked food the rich woman gave her. But the old woman never said humbly, “Thank you, my Lady.” And this bothered the noblewoman—how could a person be so ungrateful as never to say thank you?

  She thought about it and said to herself, “I’ll teach her the difference between ‘mine’ and ‘yours’.” So she baked her a large handsome braided loaf of white bread, a koyletsh, into which she put poison. When the old woman came, the lady gave her the loaf. The old woman was so pleased by the size and quality of the loaf that this time she said twice, “May the Lord repay you, my Lady,” and went away. When she was gone the lady burst out laughing. “We’ll see whether he’ll repay me or you.”

  The old woman meanwhile, when she got home, was so pleased with the loaf that she decided to hide it. A little while later the lady’s son was hunting in the forest and was caught in the rain. Remembering that there was an old woman who lived in a hut nearby, he ran to it.

  The old woman was so delighted to see him that she took the hidden loaf out so that she could treat him with it. When he had eaten of the loaf he felt very sick. The old woman was frightened and ran to the lady’s house. “Lady, what have you done? What misfortune have you brought down upon me?”

  The lady understood at once what had happened and said, “Upon me. Upon me.”

  65

  The Ballad of the Faithful Wife

  Once upon a time a man

  Left his wife. It was his plan

  To travel far, to travel near,

  And he was gone for many a year.

  Khane, his lovely wife, was left

  Alone, abandoned, all bereft.

  One day the man returned, disguised

  So well he was unrecognized:

  “Lady, tell me, tell me, pray,

  Have you fine clothes and do you stray?

  And tell me, Lady, do you sin?

  Do you lust for other men?”

  “I’ve no fine clothes. I do not sin.

  I do not lust for other men.”

  He had a brilliant ring, so bright

  Thirty ounces was its weight.

  It was worth its weight in gold

  And it was bright and very old.

  “This ring so bright is yours to wear

  If you’ll forget your husband dear.”<
br />
  “The ring is brilliant and it’s bright

  And thirty ounces is its weight,

  It’s worth, no doubt, its weight in gold

  And it’s lovely, and it’s old,

  But it’s not for me to wear—

  Instead I’ll mourn my husband dear.”

  He had an apron, long and white

  And smooth when washed, a lovely sight,

  And long it was, down to the ground,

  The finest apron ever found,

  And worth a hundred rubles clear.

  “This apron, Lady, is yours to wear

  If you’ll forget your husband dear.”

  “The apron’s surely long and white

  And smooth when washed, a lovely sight,

  And long it is, down to the ground,

  The finest apron ever found,

  And worth a hundred rubles clear,

  But it’s not for me to wear—

  Instead I’ll mourn my husband dear.”

  “Ah well for me and for my life

  That I’m your husband, you’re my wife.

  I thank the moon, I thank the sun,

  I thank the Lord for what He’s done.

  I thank thee, Lady, with this kiss

  And thank my God for wedded bliss.”

  66

  The Iron Chest

  One day a parnes, a community leader, was traveling home from a large city, and it happened that he had to go by night. Driving along, he fell asleep and his horses took a wrong turn. He woke and saw that he was lost, but it was too dark to find the right road. So he drove straight on until he came upon two men who were digging a hole. At first he feared they might be robbers, but it turned out that they were respectable peasants. When he had greeted them, he asked, “What are you digging for?”

  “We’re digging up a chest filled with gold coins.”