Chapter VI: Wise Sayings of the Rabbis (7)

The story of Joseph and Potiphar's wife, as related in the Book of Genesis, finds parallels in the popular tales and legends of many countries: the vengeance of "woman whose love is scorned," says a Hindú writer, "is worse than poison"! But the rabbinical version is quite unique in representing the wife of Potiphar as having aiders and abettors in carrying out her scheme of revenge: For some days after the pious young Israelite had declined her amorous overtures, she looked so ill that her female friends inquired of her the cause, and having told them of her adventure with Joseph, they said: "Accuse him before thy husband, that he may be cast into prison." She desired them to accuse him likewise to their husbands, which they did accordingly; and their husbands went before Pharaoh and complained of Joseph's misconduct towards their wives.[68]

[68] Commentators on the Kurán inform us that when Joseph was
released from prison, after so satisfactorily
interpreting Pharaoh's two dreams, Potiphar was degraded
from his high office. One day, while Joseph was riding
out to inspect a granary beyond the city, he observed a
beggar-woman in the street, whose whole appearance,
though most distressing, bore distinct traces of former
greatness. Joseph approached her compassionately, and
held out to her a handful of gold. But she refused it,
and said aloud: "Great prophet of Allah, I am unworthy
of this gift, although my transgression has been the
stepping-stone to thy present fortune." At these words
Joseph regarded her more closely, and, behold, it was
Zulaykhá, the wife of his lord. He inquired after her
husband, and was told that he had died of sorrow and
poverty soon after his deposition. On hearing this,
Joseph led Zulaykhá to a relative of the king, by whom
she was treated like a sister, and she soon appeared to
him as blooming as at the time of his entrance into her
house. He asked her hand of the king, and married her,
with his permission.

Zulaykhá was the name of Potiphar's wife, if we may
believe Muhammedan legends, and the daughter of the king
of Maghrab (or Marocco), who gave her in marriage to the
grand vazír of the king of Egypt, and the beauteous
princess was disgusted to find him, not only very old,
but, as a modest English writer puts it, very mildly,
"belonged to that unhappy class which a practice of
immemorial antiquity in the East excluded from the
pleasures of love and the hope of posterity." This
device of representing Potiphar as being what Byron
styles "a neutral personage" was, of course, adopted by
Muslim traditionists and poets in order to "white-wash"
the frail Zulaykhá.--There are extant many Persian and
Turkish poems on the "loves" of _Yúsuf wa Zulaykhá_,
most of them having a mystical signification, and that
by the celebrated Persian poet Jámí is universally
considered as by far the best.

_Joseph and his Brethren._

Wonderful stories are related of Joseph and his brethren. Simeon, if we may credit the Talmudists, must have been quite a Hercules in strength. The Biblical narrative of Simeon's detention by his brother Joseph is brief but most expressive: "And he turned himself about from them and wept; and returned to them again, and communed with them, and took from them Simeon, and bound him before their eyes."[69] The Talmudists condescend more minutely regarding this interesting incident: When Joseph ordered seventy valiant men to put Simeon in chains, they had no sooner approached him than he roared so loud that all the seventy fell down at his feet and broke their teeth! Joseph then said to his son Manasseh: "Chain thou him"; whereupon Manasseh dealt Simeon a single blow and immediately overpowered him; upon which Simeon exclaimed: "Surely this was the blow of a kinsman!"--When Joseph sent Benjamin to prison, Judah cried so loud that Chushim, the son of Dan, heard him in Canaan and responded. Joseph feared for his life, for Judah was so enraged that he wept blood. Some say that Judah wore five garments, one over the other; but when he was angry his heart swelled so much that his five garments burst open. Joseph cried so terribly that one of the pillars of his house fell in and was changed into sand. Then Judah said: "He is valiant, like one of us."

[69] Gen. xlii, 24.--It does not appear from the sacred
narrative why Joseph selected his brother Simeon as
hostage. Possibly Simeon was most eager for his death,
before he was cast into the dry well and then sold to
the Ishmaelites; and indeed both he and his brother Levi
seem to have been "a bad lot," judging from the dying
Jacob's description of them, Gen. xlix, 5-7.

_Jacob's Sorrow._

But like a gem, among a heap of rubbish is the touching little story of how the news of Joseph's being alive and the viceroy of Egypt was conveyed to the aged and sorrow-stricken Jacob. When the brethren had returned to the land of Canaan, after their second expedition, they were perplexed how to communicate to their father the joyful intelligence that his long-lamented son still lived, fearing it might have a fatal effect on the old man if suddenly told to him. At length Serach, the daughter of Asher, proposed that she should convey the tidings to her grandfather in a song. Accordingly she took her harp, and sang to Jacob the whole story of Joseph's life and his present greatness, and her music soothed his spirit; and when he fully realised that his son was yet alive, he fervently blessed her, and she was taken into Paradise, without tasting of death.[70]

[70] "Jacob's grief" is proverbial in Muslim countries. In
the Kurán, _sura_ xii, it is stated that the patriarch
became totally blind through constant weeping for the
loss of Joseph, and that his sight was restored by means
of Joseph's garment, which the governor of Egypt sent by
his brethren.--In the _Makamat_ of Al-Harírí, the
celebrated Arabian poet (A.D. 1054-1122), Harith bin
Hamman is represented as saying that he passed a night
of "Jacobean sorrow," and another imaginary character is
said to have "wept more than Jacob when he lost his
son."

_Moses and Pharaoh._

The slaughter of the Hebrew male children by the cruel command of the "Pharoah who knew not Joseph" was a precaution adopted, we are informed by the Rabbis, in consequence of a dream which that monarch had, of an aged man who held a balance in his right hand; in one scale he placed all the sages and nobles of Egypt, and in the other a little lamb, which weighed down them all. In the morning Pharaoh told his strange dream to his counsellors, who were greatly terrified, and Bi'lam, the son of Beor, the magician, said: "This dream, O King, forebodes great affliction, which one of the children of Israel will bring upon Egypt." The king asked the soothsayer whether this threatened evil might not be avoided. "There is but one way of averting the calamity--cause every male child of Hebrew parents to be slain at birth." Pharaoh approved of this advice, and issued an edict accordingly. The Egyptian monarch's kind-hearted daughter (whose name, by the way, was Bathia), who rescued the infant Moses from the common fate of the Hebrew male children, was a leper, and consequently was not permitted to use the warm baths. But no sooner had she stretched forth her hand to the crying infant than she was healed of her leprosy, and, moreover, afterwards admitted bodily into Paradise.[71]

[71] Muslims say that Pharaoh's seven daughters were all
lepers, and that Bathia's sisters, as well as herself,
were cured through her saving the infant Moses.

According to the Hebrew traditionists, nine human beings
entered Paradise without having tasted of death, viz.:
Enoch; Messiah; Elias; Eliezer, the servant of Abraham;
the servant of the king of Kush; Hiram, king of Tyre;
Jaabez, the son of the Prince, and the Rabbi, Juda;
Serach, the daughter of Asher; and Bathia, the daughter
of Pharaoh.

The last of the race of genuine Dublin ballad-singers,
who rejoiced in the _nom de guerre_ of "Zozimus" (ob.
1846), used to edify his street patrons with a slightly
different reading of the romantic story of the finding
of Moses in the bulrushes, which has the merit of
striking originality, to say the least:

In Egypt's land, upon the banks of Nile,
King Pharaoh's daughter went to bathe in style;
She tuk her dip, then went unto the land,
And, to dry her royal pelt, she ran along the strand.
A bulrush tripped her, whereupon she saw
A smiling babby in a wad of straw;
She tuk it up, and said, in accents mild,
"_Tare an' agers, gyurls, which av yez owns this child?_"

The story of the finding of Moses has its parallels in
almost every country--in the Greek and Roman legends of
Perseus, Cyrus, and Romulus--in Indian, Persian, and
Arabian tales--and a Babylonian analogue is given, as
follows, by the Rev. A. H. Sayce, in the _Folk-Lore
Journal_ for 1883: "Sargon, the mighty monarch, the king
of Agané, am I. My mother was a princess; my father I
knew not. My father's brother loved the mountain land.
In the city of Azipiranu, which on the bank of the
Euphrates lies, my mother, the princess, conceived me;
in an inacessible spot she brought me forth. She placed
me in a basket of rushes; with bitumen the door of my
ark she closed. She launched me on the river, which
drowned me not. The river bore me along; to Akki, the
irrigator, it brought me. Akki, the irrigator, in the
tenderness of his heart, lifted me up. Then Akki, the
irrigator, as his gardener appointed me, and in my
gardenership the goddess Istar loved me. For forty-five
years the kingdom I have ruled, and the black-headed
(Akkadian) race have governed."

Of the childhood of Moses a curious story is told to account for his being in after life "slow of speech and slow of tongue": Pharaoh was one day seated in his banqueting hall, with his queen at his right hand and Bathia at his left, and around him were his two sons, Bi'lam, the chief soothsayer, and other dignitaries of his court, when he took little Moses (then three years old) upon his knee, and began to fondle him. The Hebrew urchin stretched forth his hand and took the kingly crown from Pharaoh's brow and deliberately placed it upon his own head. To the monarch and his courtiers this action of the child was ominous, and Pharaoh inquired of his counsellors how, in their judgment, the audacious little Hebrew should be punished. Bi'lam, the sooth-sayer, answered: "Do not suppose, O King, that this is necessarily the thoughtless action of a child; recollect thy dream which I did interpret for thee. But let us prove whether this child is possessed of understanding beyond his years, in this manner: let two plates, one containing fire, the other gold, be placed before the child; and if he grasp the gold, then is he of superior understanding, and should therefore be put to death." The plates, as proposed by the soothsayer, were placed before the child Moses, who immediately seized upon the fire, and put it into his mouth, which caused him henceforward to stammer in his speech.

It was no easy matter for Moses and his brother to gain access to Pharaoh, for his palace had 400 gates, 100 on each side; and before each gate stood no fewer than 60,000 tried warriors. Therefore the angel Gabriel introduced them by another way, and when Pharaoh beheld Moses and Aaron he demanded to know who had admitted them. He summoned the guards, and ordered some of them to be beaten and others to be put to death. But next day Moses and Aaron returned, and the guards, when called in, exclaimed: "These men are sorcerers, for they cannot have come in through any of the gates." There were, however, much more formidable guardians of the royal palace: the 400 gates were guarded by bears, lions, and other ferocious beasts, who suffered no one to pass unless they were fed with flesh. But when Moses and Aaron came, they gathered about them, and licked the feet of the prophets, accompanying them to Pharaoh.--Readers who are familiar with the _Thousand and One Nights_ and other Asiatic story-books will recollect many tales in which palaces are similarly guarded. In the spurious "Canterbury" _Tale of Beryn_ (taken from the first part of the old French romance of the Chevalier Berinus), which has been re-edited for the Chaucer Society, the palace-garden of Duke Isope is guarded by eight necromancers who look like "abominabill wormys, enough to frighte the hertiest man on erth," also by a white lion that had eaten five hundred men.

III

LEGENDS OF DAVID AND SOLOMON, ETC.

Muhammed, the great Arabian lawgiver, drew very largely from the rabbinical legends in his composition of the Kurán, every verse of which is considered by pious Muslims as a miracle, or wonder (_ayet_). The well-known story of the spider weaving its web over the mouth of the cave in which Muhammed and Abú Bekr had concealed themselves in their flight from Mecca to Medina was evidently borrowed from the Talmudic legend of David's flight from the malevolence of Saul: Immediately after David had entered the cave of Adullam, a spider spun its web across the opening. His pursuers presently passing that way were about to search the cave; but perceiving the spider's web, they naturally concluded that no one could have recently entered there, and thus was the future king of Israel preserved from Saul's vengeance.

King David once had a narrow escape from death at the hands of Goliath's brother Ishbi. The king was hunting one morning when Satan appeared before him in the form of a deer.[72] David drew his bow, but missed him, and the feigned deer ran off at the top of his speed. The king, with true sportsman's instinct, pursued the deer, even into the land of the Philistines--which, doubtless, was Satan's object in assuming that form. It unluckily happened that Ishbi, the brother of Goliath, recognised in the person of the royal hunter the slayer of the champion of Gath, and he immediately seized David, bound him neck and heels together, and laid him beneath his wine-press, designing to crush him to death. But, lo, the earth became soft, and the Philistine was baffled. Meanwhile, in the land of Israel a dove with silver wings was seen by the courtiers of King David fluttering about, apparently in great distress, which signified to the wise men that their royal master was in danger of his life. Abishai, one of David's counsellors, at once determined to go and succour his sovereign, and accordingly mounted the king's horse, and in a few minutes was in the land of the Philistines. On arriving at Ishbi's house, he discovered that gentleman's venerable mother spinning at the door. The old lady threw her distaff at the Israelite, and, missing him, desired him to bring it back to her. Abishai returned it in such a manner that she never afterwards required a distaff. This little incident was witnessed by Ishbi, who, resolving to rid himself of one of his enemies forthwith, took David from beneath the wine-press, and threw him high into the air, expecting that he would fall upon his spear, which he had previously fixed into the ground. But Abishai pronounced the Great Name (often referred to in the Talmud), and David, in consequence, remained suspended between earth and sky. In the sequel they both unite against Ishbi, and put him to death.[73]

[72] That the arch-fiend could, and often did, assume various
forms to lure men to their destruction was universally
believed throughout Europe during mediæval times and
even much later; generally he appeared in the form of a
most beautiful young woman; and there are still current
in obscure parts of Scotland wild legends of his having
thus tempted even godly men to sin.--In Asiatic tales
rákshasas, ghúls (ghouls), and such-like demons
frequently assume the appearance of heart-ravishing
damsels in order to delude and devour the unwary
traveller. In many of our old European romances fairies
are represented as transforming themselves into the
semblance of deer, to decoy into sequestered places
noble hunters of whom they had become enamoured.

[73] The "Great Name" (in Arabic, _El-Ism el-Aazam_, "the
Most Great Name"), by means of which King David was
saved from a cruel death, as above, is often employed in
Eastern romances for the rescue of the hero from deadly
peril, as well as to enable him to perform supernatural
exploits. It was generally engraved on a signet-ring,
but sometimes it was communicated orally to the
fortunate hero by a holy man, or by a king of the
genii--who was, of course, a good Muslim.

Of Solomon the Wise there are, of course, many curious rabbinical legends. His reputation for superior sagacity extended over all the world, and the wisest men of other nations came humbly to him as pupils. It would appear that this great monarch was not less willing to afford the poorest of his subjects the benefit of his advice when they applied to him than able to solve the knottiest problem which the most keen-witted casuist could propound. One morning a man, whose life was embittered by a froward, shrewish wife, left his house to seek the advice of Solomon. On the road he overtook another man, with whom he entered into conversation, and presently learned that he was also going to the king's palace. "Pray, friend," said he, "what might be your business with the king? I am going to ask him how I should manage a wife who has long been froward." "Why," said the other, "I employ a great many people, and have a great deal of capital invested in my business; yet I find I am losing more and more every year, instead of gaining; and I want to know the cause, and how it may be remedied." By-and-by they overtook a third man, who informed them that he was a physician whose practice had fallen off considerably, and he was proceeding to ask King Solomon's advice as to how it might be increased. At length they reached the palace, and it was arranged among them that the man who had the shrewish wife should first present himself before the king. In a short time he rejoined his companions with a rather puzzled expression of countenance, and the others inquiring how he had sped, he answered: "I can see no wisdom in the king's advice; he simply advised me to _go to a mill_." The second man then went in, and returned quite as much perplexed as the first, saying: "Of a truth, Solomon is not so wise as he is reported to be; would you believe it?--all he said to me when I had told him my grievance was, _get up early in the morning_." The third man, somewhat discouraged by these apparently idle answers, entered the presence-chamber, and on coming out told his companions that the king had simply advised him to _be proud_. Equally disappointed, the trio returned homeward together. They had not gone far when one of them said to the first man: "Here is a mill; did not the king advise you to go into one?" The man entered, and presently ran out, exclaiming: "I've got it! I've got it! I am to beat my wife!" He went home and gave his spouse a sound thrashing, and she was ever afterwards a very obedient wife.[74] The second man got up very early the next morning, and discovered a number of his servants idling about, and others loading a cart with goods from his warehouse, which they were stealing. He now understood the meaning of Solomon's advice, and henceforward always rose early every morning, looked after his servants, and ultimately became very wealthy. The third man, on reaching home, told his wife to get him a splendid robe, and to instruct all the servants to admit no one into his presence without first obtaining his permission. Next day, as he sat in his private chamber, arrayed in his magnificent gown, a lady sent her servant to demand his attendance, and he was about to enter the physician's chamber, as usual, without ceremony, when he was stopped, and told that the doctor's permission must be first obtained. After some delay the lady's servant was admitted, and found the great doctor seated among his books. On being desired to visit the lady, the doctor told the servant that he could not do so without first receiving his fee. In short, by this professional pride, the physician's practice rapidly increased, and in a few years he acquired a large fortune. And thus in each case Solomon's advice proved successful.[75]

[74] At the "mill" the man who was plagued with a bad wife
doubtless saw some labourers threshing corn, since
_grinding_ corn would hardly suggest the idea of
_beating_ his provoking spouse.--By the way, this man
had evidently never heard the barbarous sentiment,
expressed in the equally barbarous English popular
rhyme--composed, probably, by some beer-sodden
bacon-chewer, and therefore, in those ancient times,
_non inventus_--

A woman, a dog, and a walnut tree,
The more you beat 'em, the better they be--

else, what need for him to consult King Solomon about
his paltry domestic troubles?

[75] A variant of this occurs in the _Decameron_ of
Boccaccio, Day ix, Nov. 9, of which Dunlop gives the
following outline: Two young men repair to Jerusalem to
consult Solomon. One asks how he may be well liked, the
other how he may best manage a froward wife. Solomon
advised the first to "love others," and the second to
"repair to the mill." From this last counsel neither can
extract any meaning; but it is explained on their road
home, for when they came to the bridge of that name they
meet a number of mules, and one of these animals being
restive its master forced it on with a stick. The advice
of Solomon, being now understood, is followed, with
complete success.

Among the innumerable tales current in Muhammedan
countries regarding the extraordinary sagacity of
Solomon is the following, which occurs in M. René
Basset's _Contes Populaires Berbèrs_ (Paris, 1887):
Complaint was made to Solomon that some one had stolen a
quantity of eggs. "I shall discover him," said Solomon.
And when the people were assembled in the mosque
(_sic_), he said: "An egg-thief has come in with you,
and he has got feathers on his head." The thief in great
fright raised his hand to his head, which Solomon
perceiving, he cried out: "There is the culprit--seize
him!" There are many variants of this story in Persian
and Indian collections, where a kází, or judge, takes
the place of Solomon, and it had found its way into our
own jest-books early in the 16th century. Thus in _Tales
and Quicke Answeres_, a man has a goose stolen from him
and complains to the priest, who promises to find out
the thief. On Sunday the priest tells the congregation
to sit down, which they do accordingly. Then says he,
"Why are ye not all seated?" Say they, "We _are_ all
seated." "Nay," quoth Mass John, "but he that stole the
goose sitteth not down." "But I _am_ seated," says the
witless goose-thief.

We learn from the Old Testament that the Queen of Sheba (or Sába, whom the Arabians identify with Bilkís, queen of El-Yemen) "came to prove the wisdom of Solomon with hard questions," and that he answered them all. What were the questions--or riddles--the solution of which so much astonished the Queen of Sheba we are not told; but the Rabbis inform us that, after she had exhausted her budget of riddles, she one day presented herself at the foot of Solomon's throne, holding in one hand a bouquet of natural flowers and in the other a bouquet of artificial flowers, desiring the king to say which was the product of nature. Now, the artificial flowers were so exactly modelled in imitation of the others that it was thought impossible for him to answer the question, from the distance at which she held the bouquets. But Solomon was not to be baffled by a woman with scraps of painted paper: he caused a window in the audience-chamber to be opened, when a cluster of bees immediately flew in and alighted upon one of the bouquets, while not one of the insects fixed upon the other. By this device Solomon was enabled to distinguish between the natural and the artificial flowers.

Again the Queen of Sheba endeavoured to outwit the sagacious monarch. She brought before him a number of boys and girls, apparelled all alike, and desired him to distinguish those of one sex from those of the other, as they stood before him. Solomon caused a large basin full of water to be fetched in, and ordered them all to wash their hands. By this expedient he discovered the males from the females; since the boys merely washed their hands, while the girls washed also their arms.[76]

[76] Among the Muhammedan legends concerning Solomon and the
Queen of Sheba, it is related that, after he had
satisfactorily answered all her questions and solved her
riddles, "before he would enter into more intimate
relations with her, he desired to clear up a certain
point respecting her, and to see whether she actually
had cloven feet, as several of his demons would have him
to believe; or whether they had only invented the defect
from fear lest he should marry her, and beget children,
who, as descendants of the genii [the mother of Bilkís
is said to have been of that race of beings], would be
even more mighty than himself. He therefore caused her
to be conducted through a hall, whose floor was of
crystal, and under which water tenanted by every variety
of fish was flowing. Bilkís, who had never seen a
crystal floor, supposed that there was water to be
passed through, and therefore raised her robe slightly,
when the king discovered to his great joy a beautifully
shaped female foot. When his eye was satisfied, he
called to her: 'Come hither; there is no water here, but
only a crystal floor; and confess thyself to the faith
in the one only God.' Bilkís approached the throne,
which stood at the end of the hall, and in Solomon's
presence abjured the worship of the sun. Solomon then
married Bilkís, but reinstated her as Queen of Sába, and
spent three days in every month with her."

The Arabians and Persians, who have many traditions regarding Solomon, invariably represent him as adept in necromancy, and as being intimately acquainted with the language of beasts and birds. Josephus, the great Jewish historian, distinctly states that Solomon possessed the art of expelling demons, that he composed such incantations also by which distempers are alleviated, and that he left behind him the manner of using exorcisms, by which they drive out demons, never to return. Of course, Josephus merely reproduces rabbinical traditions, and there can be no doubt but the Arabian stories regarding Solomon's magical powers are derived from the same source. It appears that Solomon's signet-ring was the chief instrument with which he performed his numerous magical exploits.[77] By its wondrous power he imprisoned Ashmedai, the prince of devils; and on one occasion the king's curiosity to increase his store of magical knowledge cost him very dear--no less than the loss of his kingdom for a time. Solomon was in the habit of daily plying Ashmedai with questions, to all of which the fiend returned answers, furnishing the desired information, until one day the king asked him a particular question which the captive evil spirit flatly refused to answer, except on condition that Solomon should lend him his signet-ring. The king's passion for magical knowledge overcame his prudence, and he handed his ring to the fiend, thereby depriving himself of all power over his captive, who immediately swallowed the monarch, and stretching out his wings, flew up into the air, and shot out his "inside passenger" four hundred leagues distant from Jerusalem! Ashmedai then assumed the form of Solomon, and sat on his throne. Meanwhile Solomon was become a wanderer on the face of the earth, and it was then that he said (as it is written in the book of Ecclesiasticus i, 3): "This is the reward of all my labour"; which word _this_, one learned Rabbi affirms to have reference to Solomon's walking-staff, and another commentator, to his ragged coat; for the poor monarch went begging from door to door, and in every town he entered he always cried aloud: "I, the Preacher, was king over Israel in Jerusalem!" But the people all thought him insane. At length, in the course of his wanderings, he reached Jerusalem, where he cried, as usual: "I, the Preacher, was king over Israel in Jerusalem!" and as he never varied in his recital, certain wise counsellors, reflecting that a fool is not constant in his tale, resolved to ascertain, if possible, whether the poor beggar was really King Solomon. With this object they assembled, and taking the mendicant with them, they gave him the magical ring and led him into the throne-room.[78] Ashmedai no sooner caught sight of his old master than he shrieked wildly and flew away; and Solomon resumed his mild and beneficent rule over the people of Israel. The Rabbis add, that ever afterwards, even to his dying day, Solomon was afraid of the prince of devils, and could not go to sleep without having his bed surrounded by an armed guard, as it is written in the Book of Canticles, iii, 7, 8.

[77] According to the Muslim legend, eight angels appeared
before Solomon in a vision, saying that Allah had sent
them to surrender to him power over them and the eight
winds which were at their command. The chief of the
angels then presented him with a jewel bearing the
inscription: "To Allah belong greatness and might."
Solomon had merely to raise this stone towards the
heavens and these angels would appear, to serve him.
Four other angels next appeared, lords of all creatures
living on the earth and in the waters. The angel
representing the kingdom of birds gave him a jewel on
which were inscribed the words: "All created things
praise the Lord." Then came an angel who gave him a
jewel conferring on the possessor power over earth and
sea, having inscribed on it: "Heaven and earth are
servants of Allah." Lastly, another angel appeared and
presented him with a jewel bearing these words (the
formula of the Muslim Confession of Faith): "There is no
God but _the_ God, and Muhammed is his messenger." This
jewel gave Solomon power over the spirit-world. Solomon
caused these four jewels to be set in a ring, and the
first use to which he applied its magical power was to
subdue the demons and genii.--It is perhaps hardly
necessary to remark here, with reference to the
fundamental doctrine of Islám, said to have been
engraved on the fourth jewel of Solomon's ring, that
according to the Kurán, David, Solomon, and all the
Biblical patriarchs and prophets were good Muslims, for
Muhammed did not profess to introduce a new religion,
but simply to restore the original and only true faith,
which had become corrupt.

[78] We are not told here how the demon came to part with
this safeguard of his power. The Muslim form of the
legend, as will be seen presently, is much more
consistent, and corresponds generally with another
rabbinical version, which follows the present one.

Another account informs us that the demon, having cajoled Solomon out of possession of his magic ring, at once flung it into the sea and cast the king 400 miles away. Solomon came to a place called Mash Kerim, where he was made chief cook in the palace of the king of Ammon, whose daughter, called Naama, became enamoured of him, and they eloped to a far distant country. As Naama was one day preparing a fish for broiling, she found Solomon's ring in its stomach, which, of course, enabled him to recover his kingdom and to imprison the demon in a copper vessel, which he cast into the Lake of Tiberias.[79]

[79] According to the Muslim version, Solomon's temporary
degradation was in punishment for his taking as a
concubine the daughter of an idolatrous king whom he had
vanquished in battle, and, through her influence, bowing
himself to "strange gods." Before going to the bath, one
day, he gave this heathen beauty his signet to take care
of, and in his absence the rebellious genie Sakhr,
assuming the form of Solomon, obtained the ring. The
king was driven forth and Sakhr ruled (or rather,
misruled) in his stead; till the wise men of the palace,
suspecting him to be a demon, began to read the Book of
the Law in his presence, whereupon he flew away and cast
the signet into the sea. In the meantime Solomon hired
himself to some fishermen in a distant country, his
wages being two fishes each day. He finds his signet in
the maw of one of the fish, and so forth.

It may appear strange to some readers that the Rabbis should represent the sagacious Solomon in the character of a practitioner of the Black Art. But the circumstance simply indicates that Solomon's acquirements in scientific knowledge were considerably beyond those of most men of his age; and, as in the case of our own Friar Bacon, his superior attainments were popularly attributed to magical arts. Nature, it need hardly be remarked, is the only school of magic, and men of science are the true magicians.

_Unheard-of Monsters._

The marvellous creatures which are described by Pliny, and by our own old English writers, Sir John Mandeville and Geoffrey of Monmouth, are common-place in comparison with some of those mentioned in the Talmud. Even the monstrous _roc_ of the _Arabian Nights_ must have been a mere tom-tit compared with the bird which Rabbi bar Chama says he once saw. It was so tall that its head reached the sky, while its feet rested on the bottom of the ocean; and he affords us some slight notion of the depth of the sea by informing us that a carpenter's axe, which had accidentally fallen in, had not reached the bottom in seven years. The same Rabbi saw "a frog as large as a village containing sixty houses." Huge as this frog was, the snake that swallowed it must have been the very identical serpent of Scandinavian mythology, which encircled the earth; yet a crow gobbled up this serpent, and then flew to the top of a cedar, which was as broad as sixteen waggons placed side by side.--Sailors' "yarns," as they are spun to marvel-loving old ladies in our jest-books, are as nothing to the rabbinical accounts of "strange fish," some with eyes like the moon, others horned, and 300 miles in length. Not less wonderful are some four-footed creatures. The effigy of the unicorn, familiar to every schoolboy, on the royal arms of Great Britain, affords no adequate idea of the actual dimensions of that remarkable animal. Since a unicorn one day old is as large as Mount Tabor, it may readily be supposed that Noah could not possibly have got a full-grown one into the ark; he therefore secured it by its horn to the side, and thus the creature was saved alive. (The Talmudist had forgot that the animals saved from the Flood were in pairs.)[80] The celebrated Og, king of Bashan, it seems, was one of the antediluvians, and was saved by riding on the back of the unicorn. The dwellers in Brobdignag were pigmies compared with the renowned King Og, since his footsteps were forty miles apart, and Abraham's ivory bed was made of one of his teeth. Moses, the Rabbis tell us, was ten cubits high[81] and his walking-stick ten cubits more, with the top of which, after jumping ten cubits from the ground, he contrived to touch the heel of King Og; from which it has been concluded that that monarch was from two to three thousand cubits in height. But (remarks an English writer) a certain Jewish traveller has shown the fallacy of this mensuration, by meeting with the end of one of the leg-bones of the said King Og, and travelling four hours before he came to the other end. Supposing this Rabbi to have been a fair walker, the bone was sixteen miles long!

[80] Is it possible that this "story" of the unicorn was
borrowed and garbled from the ancient Hindú legend of
the Deluge? "When the flood rose Manu embarked in the
ship, and the fish swam towards him, and he fastened the
ship's cable to its horn." But in the Hindú legend the
fish (that is, Brahma in the form of a great fish) tows
the vessel, while in the Talmudic legend the ark of Noah
takes the unicorn in tow.

[81] In a manuscript preserved in the Lambeth Palace Library,
of the time of Edward IV, the height of Moses is said to
have been "xiij. fote and viij. ynches and half"; and
the reader may possibly find some amusement in the
"longitude of men folowyng," from the same veracious
work: "Cryste, vj. fote and iij. ynches. Our Lady, vj.
fote and viij. ynches. Crystoferus, xvij. fote and viij.
ynches. King Alysaunder, iiij. fote and v. ynches.
Colbronde, xvij. fote and ij. ynches and half. Syr Ey.,
x. fote iij. ynches and half. Seynt Thomas of
Caunterbery, vij. fote, save a ynche. Long Mores, a man
of Yrelonde borne, and servaunt to Kyng Edward the
iiijth., vj. fote and x. ynches and half."--_Reliquæ
Antiquæ_, vol i, p. 200.

IV

MORAL AND ENTERTAINING TALES.

If most of the rabbinical legends cited in the preceding sections have served simply to amuse the general reader--though to those of a philosophical turn they must have been suggestive of the depths of imbecility to which the human mind may descend--the stories, apologues, and parables contained in the Talmud, of which specimens are now to be presented, are calculated to furnish wholesome moral instruction as well as entertainment to readers of all ranks and ages. In the art of conveying impressive moral lessons, by means of ingenious fictions, the Hebrew sages have never been excelled, and perhaps they are rivalled only by the ancient philosophers of India. The significant circumstance has already been noticed (in the introductory section) that several of the most striking tales in European mediæval collections--particularly the _Disciplina Clericalis_ of Petrus Alfonsus and the famous _Gesta Romanorum_--are traceable to Talmudic sources. Little did the priest-ridden, ignorant, marvel-loving laity of European countries imagine that the moral fictions which their spiritual directors recited every Sunday for their edification were derived from the wise men of the despised Hebrew race! But, indeed, there is reason to believe that few mere casual readers even at the present day have any notion of the extent to which the popular fictions of Europe are indebted to the old Jewish Rabbis.

Like the sages of India, the Hebrew Fathers in their teachings strongly inculcate the duty of active benevolence--the liberal giving of alms to the poor and needy; and, indeed, the wealthy Jews are distinguished at the present day by their open-handed liberality in support of the public charitable institutions of the several countries of which they are subjects. "What you increase bestow on good works," says the Hindú sage. "Charity is to money what salt is to meat," says the Hebrew philosopher: if the wealthy are not charitable their riches will perish. In illustration of this maxim is the story of

_Rabbi Jochonan and the Poor Woman._

One day Rabbi Jochonan was riding outside the city of Jerusalem, followed by his disciples, when he observed a poor woman laboriously gathering the grain that dropped from the mouths of the horses of the Arabs as they were feeding. Looking up and recognising Jochonan, she cried: "O Rabbi, assist me!" "Who art thou?" demanded Jochonan. "I am the daughter of Nakdimon, the son of Guryon." "Why, what has become of thy father's money--the dowry thou receivedst on thy wedding day?" "Ah, Rabbi, is there not a saying in Jerusalem, 'the salt was wanting to the money?'" "But thy husband's money?" "That followed the other: I have lost them both." The good Rabbi wept for the poor woman and helped her. Then said he to his disciples, as they continued on their way: "I remember that when I signed that woman's marriage contract her father gave her as a dowry one million of gold dínars, and her husband was a man of considerable wealth besides."

* * * * *

The ill-fated riches of Nakdimon are referred to in another tale, as a lesson to those who are not charitable according to their means:

_A Safe Investment._

Rabbi Taraphon, though a very wealthy man, was exceedingly avaricious, and seldom gave help to the poor. Once, however, he involuntarily bestowed a considerable sum in relieving the distressed. Rabbi Akiba came to him one day, and told him that he knew of certain real estate, which would be a very profitable investment. Rabbi Taraphon handed him 4000 dínars in gold to be so invested, and Rabbi Akiba forthwith distributed the whole among the poor. By-and-by, Rabbi Taraphon, happening to meet his friend, desired to know where the real estate was in which his money had been invested. Rabbi Akiba took him to the college, where he caused one of the boys to read aloud the 112th Psalm, and on his reaching the 9th verse, "He distributeth, he giveth to the needy, his righteousness endureth for ever"--"There," said he, "thou seest where thy money is invested." "And why hast thou done this?" demanded Rabbi Taraphon. "Hast thou forgotten," answered his friend, "how Nakdimon, the son of Guryon, was punished because he gave not according to his means?" "But why didst thou not tell me of thy purpose? I could myself have bestowed my money on the poor." "Nay," rejoined Rabbi Akiba, "it is a greater virtue to cause another to give than to give one's self."

* * * * *

Resignation to the divine will under sore family bereavements has, perhaps, never been more beautifully illustrated than by the incident related of the Rabbi Meir. This little tale, as follows, is one of three Talmudic narratives which the poet Coleridge has translated:[82]

_The Jewels._

The celebrated teacher Rabbi Meir sat during the whole of the Sabbath day in the public school instructing the people. During his absence from the house his two sons died, both of them of uncommon beauty, and enlightened in the law. His wife bore them to her bed-chamber, laid them upon the marriage-bed, and spread a white covering over their bodies. In the evening the Rabbi Meir came home. "Where are my two sons," he asked, "that I may give them my blessing? I repeatedly looked round the school, and I did not see them there." She reached him a goblet. He praised the Lord at the going out of the Sabbath, drank, and again asked: "Where are my sons, that they too may drink of the cup of blessing?" "They will not be afar off," she said, and placed food before him that he might eat. He was in a gladsome and genial mood, and when he had said grace after the meal, she thus addressed him: "Rabbi, with thy permission, I would fain propose to thee one question." "Ask it then, my love," he replied. "A few days ago a person entrusted some jewels into my custody, and now he demands them of me; should I give them back again?" "This is a question," said the Rabbi, "which my wife should not have thought it necessary to ask. What! wouldst thou hesitate or be reluctant to restore to every one his own?" "No," she replied; "but yet I thought it best not to restore them without acquainting you therewith." She then led him to the chamber, and, stepping to the bed, took the white covering from the dead bodies. "Ah, my sons--my sons!" thus loudly lamented the father. "My sons! the light of my eyes, and the light of my understanding! I was your father, but ye were my teachers in the law." The mother turned away and wept bitterly. At length she took her husband by the hand, and said: "Rabbi, didst thou not teach me that we must not be reluctant to restore that which was entrusted to our keeping? See--'the Lord gave, the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord!'"[83] "Blessed be the name of the Lord!" echoed Rabbi Meir. "And blessed be his name for thy sake too, for well is it written: 'Whoso hath found a virtuous wife, hath a greater prize than rubies; she openeth her mouth with wisdom, and in her tongue is the law of kindness.'"[84]

[82] _The Friend_, ed. 1850, vol. ii, p. 247.

[83] Book of Job, i, 21.

[84] Prov. xxxi, 10, 26.

* * * * *

The originals of not a few of the early Italian tales are found in the Talmud--the author of the _Cento Novelle Antiche_, Boccaccio, Sacchetti, and other novelists having derived the groundwork of many of their fictions from the _Gesta Romanorum_ and the _Disciplina Clericalis_ of Peter Alfonsus, which are largely composed of tales drawn from Eastern sources. The 123rd novel of Sacchetti, in which a young man carves a capon in a whimsical fashion, finds its original in the following Talmudic story:

_The Capon-Carver._

It happened that a citizen of Jerusalem, while on a distant provincial journey on business, was suddenly taken ill, and, feeling himself to be at the point of death, he sent for the master of the house, and desired him to take charge of his property until his son should arrive to claim it; but, in order to make sure that the claimant was really the son, he was not to deliver up the property until the applicant had proved his wisdom by performing three ingenious actions. Shortly after having given his friend these injunctions the merchant died, and the melancholy intelligence was duly transmitted to his son, who in the course of a few weeks left Jerusalem to claim his property. On reaching the town where his father's friend resided, he began to inquire of the people where his house was situated, and, finding no one who could, or would, give him this necessary information, the youth was in sore perplexity how to proceed in his quest, when he observed a man carrying a heavy load of firewood. "How much for that wood?" he cried. The man readily named his price. "Thou shalt have it," said the stranger. "Carry it to the house of ---- [naming his father's friend], and I will follow thee." Well satisfied to have found a purchaser on his own terms, the man at once proceeded as he was desired, and on arriving at the house he threw down his load before the door. "What is all this?" demanded the master. "I have not ordered any wood." "Perhaps not," said the man; "but the person behind me has bought it, and desired me to bring it hither." The stranger had now come up, and, saluting the master of the house, told him who he was, and explained that, since he could not ascertain where his house was situated by inquiries of people in the streets, he had adopted this expedient, which had succeeded. The master praised the young man's ingenuity, and led him into the house.

When the several members of the family, together with the stranger, were assembled round the dinner-table, the master of the house, in order to test the stranger's ingenuity, desired his guest to carve a dish containing five chickens, and to distribute a portion to each of the persons who were present--namely, the master and mistress, their two daughters and two sons, and himself. The young stranger acquitted himself of the duty in this manner: One of the chickens he divided between the master and the mistress; another between the two daughters; the third between the two sons; and the remaining two he took for his own share. "This visitor of mine," thought the master, "is a curious carver; but I will try him once more at supper."

Various amusements made the afternoon pass very agreeably to the stranger, until supper-time, when a fine capon was placed upon the table, which the master desired his guest to carve for the company. The young man took the capon, and began to carve and distribute it thus: To the master of the house he gave the head; to the mistress, the inward part; to the two daughters, each a wing; to the two sons, each a leg; and the remainder he took for himself. After supper the master of the house thus addressed his visitor: "Friend, I thought thy carving at dinner somewhat peculiar, but thy distribution of the capon this evening seems to me extremely whimsical. Give me leave to ask, do the citizens of Jerusalem usually carve their capons in this fashion?"

"Master," said the youth, "I will gladly explain my system of carving, which does appear to you so strange. At dinner I was requested to divide five chickens among seven persons. This I could not do otherwise than arithmetically; therefore, I adopted the perfect number _three_ as my guide--thou, thy wife, and one chicken made _three_; thy two daughters and one chicken made _three_; thy two sons and one chicken made _three_; and I had to take the remaining chickens for my own share, as two chickens and myself made _three_." "Very ingenious, I must confess," said the master. "But how dost thou explain thy carving of the capon?" "That, master, I performed according to what appeared to me the fitness of things. I gave the head of the capon to thee, because thou art the head of this house; I gave the inward part to the mistress, as typical of her fruitfulness; thy daughters are both of marriageable years, and, as it is natural to wish them well settled in life, I gave each of them a wing, to indicate that they should soon fly abroad; thy two sons are the pillars of thy house, and to them I gave the legs, which are the supporters of the animal; while to myself I took that part of the capon which most resembles a boat, in which I came hither, and in which I intend to return." From these proofs of his ingenuity the master was now fully convinced that the stranger was the true son of his late friend the merchant, and next morning he delivered to him his father's property.[85]