Yiddish Folktales

by Beatrice Weinreich

  Now that she was prosperous, the woman felt that it wasn’t suitable to keep living in her village. She and her daughters moved to a large town where they bought a fine house, and soon she became well known for her charitable gifts to the poor.

  All sorts of poor people from all corners of the world visited her, drawn by her reputation for generosity. Among those who came was her own husband, who was still trying to gather enough money to pay for a circumcision feast.

  The woman knew him at once, but he didn’t recognize her because her appearance had changed with prosperity. Well, she handed him a substantial sum of money. When he saw it he stood amazed; no one had ever given him so much before. The woman said, “Don’t be so surprised, sir. Take this and buy yourself some fine clothes; then come back and help us celebrate the Sabbath.”

  And that’s what he did. When he returned, she welcomed him, seated him at the head of her table, and asked him to bless the wine. Her children looked on, wondering, but they said nothing. When the stranger had finished blessing the wine, the woman served him two large pieces of fish, well peppered and salted, and then other fine dishes: soup, meat, stew. The poor man downed everything and relished every bite.

  When the meal was over, she showed him to a room where he could spend the night. Then she made up her own bed and went to sleep. But in the middle of the night the poor man awakened with a powerful thirst, so he left his room and stumbled about in the dark, searching for water.

  The woman called to him, “Sir, what are you looking for?”

  “For something to drink,” he replied.

  “Come here,” she said. “I’ll give you something to drink.”

  So he went into her room, where she poured a glass of wine and handed it to him. He drank and smacked his lips. Then he said, “That’s a mighty tasty drink. What is it?”

  She replied,

  “The drink is wine

  And you are mine,

  And I am thine.”

  And in the morning she told her children, “This is your father.”

  103

  Skotsl Kumt: Skotsl’s Here

  You know that among Yiddish speakers, the expression Skotsl kumt, “Skotsl’s here,” is used by women to greet another woman when she comes into the house. Would you like to know its origin? I’ll tell you a story that will explain it.

  Once upon a time the women complained that everything in the world belonged to men. Men got to perform the mitsves, the religious commandments; they got called to read from the Torah. In short, they got to do everything. As for the women, they got nothing. No one paid them any attention at all. So they decided to form a deputation that would take their complaint to the Lord of the Universe.

  But how was it to be done? Well, they decided that they would heap women up in a pile, one on top of the other, until the woman at the very tip could pull herself into heaven.

  The first thing they did, then, was to dig a pit in which one of the woman knelt. Then other women climbed on her, one on top of the other. At the top of the pile was Skotsl. Because she was both very clever and a skillful speaker, she was chosen as the one to talk with the Lord of the Universe.

  Everything went well as the women were climbing onto each other. But just as Skotsl reached the top, the hunchbacked woman at the base of the pile twisted about, and the women came tumbling down. Well, of course there was nothing but noise and confusion, with everyone trying to locate everyone else. But Skotsl was nowhere to be found, though they searched for her everywhere. And so there was no one who could be counted on to talk with God, and the situation of the women remained unchanged. Everything still belonged to the men.

  But from that time on, women have not lost their hope that one day Skotsl will come. And that’s why, whenever a woman comes into a house, they call out joyfully, “Skotsl kumt, Here comes Skotsl,” because who knows—one day she might really be there.

  104

  The Clever Little Tailor

  Once upon a time in a small town there lived a tailor who wanted to be a singer—and not just a singer, but a cantor. One day his employer said, “I’ll tell you what. If you can beguile the animals of the forest with your fine singing, I’ll see to it that you become a cantor.”

  “All right,” said the tailor, and off he went into the forest, singing. He sang and sang but not one animal responded. So he thought the matter over and decided to build a little wooden hut. A round hut with an attic. And when he had finished, he set out a great heap of meat in the downstairs room while he hid in the attic. As it happened, a passing hungry wolf smelled the meat. Approaching the hut, he saw that no one was there, so he went in and ate meat to his heart’s content. When he was full, he lay down to rest.

  Then the tailor came down from the attic and said, “Wolf, wolf, how would you like to become a porter?”

  “I’d like that very much,” said the wolf, “but I don’t know how.”

  “Come,” said the tailor. “I’ll show you.” He led the wolf outside and then up to a pile of stones. “Wolf,” he said, “turn around with your shoulders toward me and I’ll show you how to become a porter.” The wolf did as he was told. He turned around with his shoulders toward the tailor. The tailor filled a sack with the stones and then, when he had tied the sack to the wolf’s shoulders, he ran off. The wolf tried to follow but couldn’t and began a dreadful howling.

  Well, the tailor left him there howling and ran back to his attic, where he lay down and waited. As he lay there, a hungry bear came by and smelled the meat. Approaching the hut, he saw that no one was there, so he went in and ate meat to his heart’s content. When he was full, he lay down to rest.

  Then the tailor came down from the attic and said, “Bear, how would you like to become a musician?”

  “I’d like that,” said the bear, “but I have crooked fingers so I can’t hold a fiddle properly.”

  “Come with me,” said the tailor. He led the bear to a village near a mill where there were huge round stones with clamps screwed into them. “Put your hands into the clamps,” he said to the bear, “and I’ll straighten your fingers so you can become a musician.” The bear did what he was told, and the tailor turned the screws until the bear’s paws were held tight. Then the tailor ran away. The bear tried to run after him, but he couldn’t get his paws loose. So he set up a dreadful yowling.

  Well, the tailor left him there yowling and ran back to his attic, where he hid and waited. As it happened, a hungry fox passed by and smelled the meat. Approaching the hut, he saw that no one was there. But a fox is very sly, and so he thought, “Shall I go in or not?” Still considering the matter, he opened the door and went in. He saw that there was no meat left, though he could still smell it, and started to leave. But the tailor hurried down and grabbed his tail. “Fox,” he said, “how would you like to be a cantor?”

  The fox replied, “No, I wouldn’t. What kind of a fool do you take me for?” And with that he yanked himself away so hard that his tail came off in the tailor’s hands. The fox, now without a tail and in pain, ran off, planning revenge against the tailor. “Well,” he thought, “I can’t do much by myself, but I’ll get all my animal friends together and we’ll teach him.”

  The fox met a bird that said, “Why are you so unhappy?”

  The fox replied, “Because the tailor tore my tail off when I said I didn’t want to become a cantor.”

  The bird said, “Never mind. There’s a remedy near at hand. Dip yourself in that nearby stream, and your tail will grow again.” The fox did as he was told and his tail grew out again. Then he ran off to call his friends together so that they could get even with the tailor. As he ran, he came upon the wolf who was unable to move because his back was loaded with stones. The fox said, “What’s the matter with you?”

  The wolf replied, “The tailor has turned me into a porter.”

  The fox laughed, “Ah, fool that you are. The tailor is a cruel fellow, and this was his way to keep you from eating him up.” With that he unt
ied the sack of stones and took them off the wolf’s shoulders, after which they ran along together. As they ran, they came upon the bear who stood with both of his forepaws clamped between the millstones.

  “What’s the matter with you?” they asked.

  “The tailor has turned me into a musician,” replied the bear.

  “Ah, what a fool you are,” they laughed. “The tailor was simply afraid you would scratch him with your claws, and so he clamped your paws between the stones.” They released the bear, and then all three of them ran to find the tailor.

  The tailor, seeing the animals running angrily toward him, thought of a way to fool them once again. He unbuckled his belt and dropped his trousers. Then he tied the torn-off fox’s tail to his own naked bottom. He turned around with his bottom toward the animals and began to wiggle the tail. The animals, who had never seen a creature like that before, were frightened and took to their heels until they were back in the forest.

  When the tailor saw that, he returned to his employer and told him everything he had done. The employer laughed and laughed, and then saw to it that the tailor became a cantor, in a peasant village named Mara Tiara. And that’s that.

  105

  Two Tunes for Three Hundred Rubles

  In a small town once, there was a man who had a daughter for whom he wanted to make a match. When a young scholar was proposed to him, he offered three hundred rubles as dowry and three years of kest, room and board. The terms of the marriage contract were agreed to and the marriage took place.

  After the wedding, the young husband lived with his wife at his in-laws’ home and continued his studies. When the three years were over, the wife said, “We can’t keep living in my parents’ house. Why don’t you go into some sort of business?”

  “What sort of business?” asked the husband.

  “My father has a horse and wagon,” said his wife. “He’ll let you have them and you can be a trader in the villages.”

  The young man took the three hundred rubles, harnessed the wagon, and went off to buy and sell things in the villages. On the outskirts of town he saw a shepherd tending his sheep. The shepherd was singing a little melody:

  The young husband listened to the tune and thought, “If I buy that melody, I’ll be able to sell it to the cantor in town for three times what I will have to pay for it.” So he got down from his wagon and said, “Shepherd, how much do you want for that melody?”

  “A hundred and fifty rubles,” was the reply.

  The scholar paid the money without hesitation. Then he got back into his wagon, took the reins in his hands, and called out, “Giddyap.”

  And so he went on his way.

  As he drove along, he met a cowherd who was pasturing oxen. The cowherd was piping a lovely melody on his flute:

  The young husband reined in his horse and thought, “If I put the two melodies together, I’ll make three times whatever they cost me.” So he asked the cowherd, “How much do you want for that melody?” And the cowherd replied, “I want a hundred and fifty rubles.”

  The young man slapped his hand against his forehead and cried, “Oh dear, I’ll spend all of my wife’s dowry and have to return empty-handed.”

  Just the same, he paid over the money, took the melody, got back on his wagon, and drove off, crying “Giddyap.”

  When he got home it was almost dawn. As he drove along, he remembered that a man named Berish the Tailor lived nearby. “Hmm,” he thought. “I know what I’ll do. I’ll go to Berish the Tailor and get him to stitch the two melodies together. Then I’ll sell them to the town cantor for twice as much money.”

  He went to the tailor’s window and knocked. “Reb Berish,” he called, “Open up.”

  The tailor cried, “Who’s that knocking at my window?”

  “It’s me, Moyshe,” he said.

  “What do you want?” asked the tailor.

  “I want you to do some stitching for me.” And he sang:

  “Is that it?” asked the tailor.

  “No,” he said, “I have more.”

  “What else?”

  And so he sang:

  Reb Berish unwound his measuring tape and heated his pressing iron. Then he cut and stitched and ironed the two melodies. The young man paid him a few groshn, got back on his wagon, and drove home.

  When he came to the house, he knocked at the door and called, “Get up, Sorele. It’s me, your husband, I’m back.”

  So she got up and came running to the wagon to see what sort of merchandise he had bought. Finding the wagon empty, she asked “Where is the merchandise?”

  “I have it,” he said.

  “Where is it?” she asked.

  And so he sang:

  “That’s what you bought?” she cried.

  “No,” he said. “There’s more.”

  And so he sang:

  Hearing that, she ran wailing to her father. “I’ve got to divorce that husband you gave me,” she cried. “He took the three hundred rubles of my dowry and gave them away for a couple of melodies.”

  Her father ran to the rabbi, who sent for the young man and his wife. The rabbi asked the young man, “What did you do with the money?”

  “Dear Rabbi, I made a purchase.”

  “What did you buy?”

  And so he sang:

  The rabbi said, “That’s all you bought?”

  “No,” said the young man, “there’s more.”

  “What else?”

  And so he sang:

  And so the rabbi gave her the divorce.

  106

  Some True Miracles of God

  Once there was a poor melamed whose shrewish wife made life miserable for him. One day when he came back from reciting evening prayers at the synagogue, his wife poured out a torrent of abuse while she was serving his dinner. Finally he could take it no longer. “I can’t stand your howling!” he cried, and made up a bundle containing his talis, his tfiln, his gaberdine, and a couple of shirts. He put the bundle in a sack and took up his walking stick. When his wife had fallen asleep, he turned down the lamp, banked the fire in the hearth, kissed the mezuze on the door, and left home.

  During the night his wife woke and saw that the door was unlatched and her unfortunate husband was gone. She concluded that he had left to bathe before saying his midnight prayers.

  As the melamed went on his way, a snowstorm blew in on a strong wind. With the snow and wind in his face, he began to freeze. After a while it was impossible to go on, so he sat down to rest for half an hour, but the wind blew colder and colder. Finally he got up and went on his way, praying to God that he might come upon a settlement soon.

  This time as he walked, he lost his bearings and reversed his direction. He thought he was going forward, but in fact he was retracing his steps. Since the wind now blew at his back, the melamed was grateful to God for coming to his help. But he continued to wish with all his heart that he might come to a village.

  Walking quickly with the wind’s help, he did arrive at a settlement. All the houses were dark except one, in whose windows a gleam of light showed. And that house was his own home, but the melamed didn’t know it. He went up to the window and knocked, calling, “Please, please. Won’t you let me in? I’m a poor man, frozen through.” His wife recognized his voice at once, but she pretended she didn’t know him. She let him in and made up a bed with a warm feather comforter near the stove.

  The poor fellow undressed and thanked God for His mercy. His wife put out the lamp. An hour or so later, she took her place beside him and before he knew it, the melamed felt himself to be truly fortunate. He had a good bed and more besides.

  When he woke in the morning and looked around, and saw that he was in his own home in bed with his own shrew of a wife, he laughed out loud and said, “Blessed are the ways of the Lord.”

  . . .

  My grandfather and I would sit in the old synagogue in the interval between early and late evening prayers, and we’d talk quietly. It was then tha
t he would tell me legends about the ancient sages and later heroes, about important events that happened long ago and in more recent times.

  —Memoir from Berestetshke, Poland, 1925

  The children of Hasidim would repeat the legends their fathers brought back from the rebbe’s court, legends about the miracles wrought by these wonder-workers.

  —Memoir from Eastern Europe, ca. 1930

  The stories in this section are all legends. Since they are mainly religious stories, it is not always easy to make a sharp distinction between them and the pious tales. Traditions that were once strongly attached to particular persons or places have tended to wander so that it is difficult to determine their original contexts. The characteristic difference between the two kinds of tales, however, is that while the pious tales were perceived as fiction, the style and tone of the legends clearly indicates that the tellers and their audiences believed that the tales were true.

  The first group of legends in this section is centered on the wonder-working tsadikim, the saintly spiritual leaders of the Hasidic community. Hasidism is a pietistic mystical movement that emerged in the middle of the eighteenth century in the Ukrainian provinces of Podolia and Volhynia. Later it spread into Polish Galicia, Rumania, Hungary, and throughout Eastern and Central Europe. Today its centers are in the United States and Israel. Numerous dynastic hoyfn (courts) were formed in Eastern Europe, and each court had as its central figure a disciple, or a descendant of a disciple, of the Baal Shem Tov (literally, Master of the Good Name), the founder of the movement. It was believed that through the extraordinary mystical powers of the tsadek, the charismatic spiritual leader, ordinary men could be brought closer to God. The central focus of Hasidic belief concerns God’s omnipresence in all things and a wish to achieve unity with the divine by intense concentration and the abandonment of self.