Chapter VI: Wise Sayings of the Rabbis (8)

[85] The droll incident of dividing the capon, besides being
found in Sacchetti, forms part of a popular story
current in Sicily, and is thus related in Professor
Crane's _Italian Popular Tales_, p. 311 ff., taken from
Prof. Comparetti's _Fiabe, Novelle, e Racconti_
(Palermo, 1875), No. 43, "La Ragazza astuta": Once upon
a time there was a huntsman who had a wife and two
children, a son and a daughter; and all lived together
in a wood where no one ever came, and so they knew
nothing about the world. The father alone sometimes went
to the city, and brought back the news. The king's son
once went hunting, and lost himself in that wood, and
while he was seeking his way it became night. He was
weary and hungry. Imagine how he felt. But all at once
he saw a light shining in the distance. He followed it
and reached the huntsman's house, and asked for lodging
and something to eat. The huntsman recognised him at
once and said: "Highness, we have already supped on our
best; but if we can find anything for you, you must be
satisfied with it. What can we do? We are so far from
the towns that we cannot procure what we need every
day." Meanwhile he had a capon cooked for him. The
prince did not wish to eat it alone, so he called all
the huntsman's family, and gave the head of the capon to
the father, the back to the mother, the legs to the son,
and the wings to the daughter, and ate the rest himself.
In the house there were only two beds, in the same room.
In one the husband and wife slept, in the other the
brother and sister. The old people went and slept in the
stable, giving up their bed to the prince. When the girl
saw that the prince was asleep, she said to her brother:
"I will wager that you do not know why the prince
divided the capon among us in the manner he did." "Do
you know? Tell me why." "He gave the head to our father,
because he is the head of the family; the back to our
mother, because she has on her shoulders all the affairs
of the house; the legs to you, because you must be quick
in performing the errands which are given you; and the
wings to me, to fly away and catch a husband." The
prince pretended to be asleep, but he was awake and
heard these words, and perceived that the girl had much
judgment, and as she was also pretty, he fell in love
with her [and ultimately married this clever girl].

V

MORAL TALES, FABLES, AND PARABLES.

Reverence for parents, which is still a marked characteristic of Eastern races, has ever been strongly inculcated by the Jewish Fathers; and the noble conduct of Damah, the son of Nethuna, towards both his father and mother, is adduced in the Talmud as an example for all times and every condition of life:

_A Dutiful Son._

The mother of Damah was unfortunately insane, and would frequently not only abuse him but strike him in the presence of his companions; yet would not this dutiful son suffer an ill word to escape his lips, and all he used to say on such occasions was: "Enough, dear mother, enough." One of the precious stones attached to the high priest's sacerdotal garments was once, by some means or other, lost. Informed that the son of Nethuna had one like it, the priests went to him and offered him a very large price for it. He consented to take the sum offered, and went into an adjoining room to fetch the jewel. On entering he found his father asleep, his foot resting on the chest wherein the gem was deposited. Without disturbing his father, he went back to the priests and told them that he must for the present forego the large profit he could make, as his father was asleep. The case being urgent, and the priests thinking that he only said so to obtain a larger price, offered him more money. "No," said he; "I would not even for a moment disturb my father's rest for all the treasures in the world." The priests waited till the father awoke, when Damah brought them the jewel. They gave him the sum they had offered him the second time, but the good man refused to take it. "I will not," said he, "barter for gold the satisfaction of having done my duty. Give me what you offered at first, and I shall be satisfied." This they did, and left him with a blessing.

_An Ingenious Will._

One of the best rabbinical stories of common life is of a wise man who, residing at some distance from Jerusalem, had sent his son to the Holy City in order to complete his education, and, dying during his son's absence, bequeathed the whole of his estate to one of his own slaves, on the condition that he should allow his son to select any one article which pleased him for an inheritance. Surprised, and naturally angry, at such gross injustice on the part of his father in preferring a slave for his heir in place of himself, the young man sought counsel of his teacher, who, after considering the terms of the will, thus explained its meaning and effect: "By this action thy father has simply secured thy inheritance to thee: to prevent his slaves from plundering the estate before thou couldst formally claim it, he left it to one of them, who, believing himself to be the owner, would take care of the property. Now, what a slave possesses belongs to his master. Choose, therefore, the slave for thy portion, and then possess all that was thy father's." The young man followed his teacher's advice, took possession of the slave, and thus of his father's wealth, and then gave the slave his freedom, together with a considerable sum of money.[86]

[86] This story seems to be the original of a French popular
tale, in which a gentleman secures his estate for his
son by a similar device. The gentleman, dying at Paris
while his son was on his travels, bequeathed all his
wealth to a convent, on condition that they should give
his son "whatever they chose." On the son's return he
received from the holy fathers a very trifling portion
of the paternal estate. He complained to his friends of
this injustice, but they all agreed that there was no
help for it, according to the terms of his father's
will. In his distress he laid his case before an eminent
lawyer, who told him that his father had adopted this
plan of leaving his estate in the hands of the churchmen
in order to prevent its misappropriation during his
absence. "For," said the man of law, "your father, by
will, has left you the share of his estate which the
convent should choose (_le partie qui leur plairoit_),
and it is plain that what they chose was that which they
kept for themselves. All you have to do, therefore, is
to enter an action at law against the convent for
recovery of that portion of your father's property which
they have retained, and, take my word for it, you will
be successful." The young man accordingly sued the
churchmen and gained his cause.

* * * * *

And now we proceed to cite one or two of the rabbinical fables, in the proper signification of the term--namely, moral narratives in which beasts or birds are the characters. Although it is generally allowed that Fable was the earliest form adopted for conveying moral truths, yet it is by no means agreed among the learned in what country of remote antiquity it originated. Dr. Landsberger, in his erudite introduction to _Die Fabeln des Sophos_ (1859), contends that the Jews were the first to employ fables for purposes of moral instruction, and that the oldest fable extant is Jotham's apologue of the trees desiring a king (Book of Judges, ix. 8-15).[87] According to Dr. Landsberger, the sages of India were indebted to the Hebrews for the idea of teaching by means of fables, probably during the reign of Solomon, who is believed to have had commerce with the western shores of India.[88] We are told by Josephus that Solomon "composed of parables and similitudes three thousand; for he spoke a parable upon every sort of tree, from the hyssop to the cedar; and, in like manner, also about beasts, about all sorts of living creatures, whether upon earth, or in the seas, or in the air; for he was not unacquainted with any of their natures, nor omitted inquiring about them, but described them all like a philosopher, and demonstrated his exquisite knowledge of their several properties." These fables of Solomon, if they were ever committed to writing, had perished long before the time of the great Jewish historian; but there seems no reason to doubt the fact that the wise king of Israel composed many works besides those ascribed to him in the Old Testament. The general opinion among European orientalists is that Fable had its origin in India; and the Hindús themselves claim the honour of inventing our present system of numerals (which came into Europe through the Arabians, who derived it from the Hindús), the game of chess, and the Fables of Vishnusarman (the _Panchatantra_ and its abridgment, the _Hitopadesa_).

[87] But the Book of Judges was probably edited after the
time of Hesiod, whose fable of the Hawk and the
Nightingale (_Works and Days_, B. i, v. 260) must be
considered as the oldest extant fable.

[88] This theory, though perhaps somewhat ingenious, is
generally considered as utterly untenable.

It is said that Rabbi Meir knew upwards of three hundred fables relating to the fox alone; but of these only three fragments have been preserved, and this is one of them, according to Mr. Polano's translation:

_The Fox and the Bear._

A Fox said to a Bear: "Come, let us go into this kitchen; they are making preparations for the Sabbath, and we shall be able to find food." The Bear followed the Fox, but, being bulky, he was captured and punished. Angry thereat, he designed to tear the Fox to pieces, under the pretence that the forefathers of the Fox had once stolen his food, wherein occurs the saying, "the fathers have eaten sour grapes, and the children's teeth are set on edge."[89] "Nay," said the Fox, "come with me, my good friend; let us not quarrel. I will lead thee to another place where we shall surely find food." The Fox then led the Bear to a deep well, where two buckets were fastened together by a rope, like a balance. It was night, and the Fox pointed to the moon reflected in the water, saying: "Here is a fine cheese; let us descend and partake of it." The Fox entered his bucket first, but being too light to balance the weight of the Bear, he took with him a stone. As soon as the Bear had got into the other bucket, however, the Fox threw the stone away, and consequently the bear descended to the bottom and was drowned.

[89] Ezekiel, xviii, 2.

* * * * *

The reader will doubtless recognise in this fable the original of many modern popular tales having a similar catastrophe. It will also be observed that the vulgar saying of the moon being "a fine cheese" is of very considerable antiquity.[90]

[90] This wide-spread fable is found in the _Disciplina
Clericalis_ (No. 21) and in the collection of Marie de
France, of the 13th century; and it is one of the many
spurious Esopic fables.

And here is another rabbinical fable of a Fox--a very common character in the apologues of most countries; although the "moral" appended to this one by the pious fabulist is much more striking than is sometimes the case of those deduced from beast-fables:

_The Fox in the Garden._

A Fox once came near a very fine garden, where he beheld lofty trees laden with fruit that charmed the eye. Such a beautiful sight, added to his natural greediness, excited in him the desire of possession. He fain would taste the forbidden fruit; but a high wall stood between him and the object of his wishes. He went about in search of an entrance, and at last found an opening in the wall, but it was too small to admit his body. Unable to penetrate, he had recourse to his usual cunning. He fasted three days, and became sufficiently reduced in bulk to crawl through the small aperture. Having effected an entrance, he carelessly roved about in this delightful region, making free with its exquisite produce and feasting on its more rare and delicious fruits. He remained for some time, and glutted his appetite, when a thought occurred to him that it was possible he might be observed, and in that case he should pay dearly for his feast. He therefore retired to the place where he had entered, and attempted to get out, but to his great consternation he found his endeavours vain. He had by indulgence grown so fat and plump that the same space would no more admit him. "I am in a fine predicament," said he to himself. "Suppose the master of the garden were now to come and call me to account, what would become of me? I see my only chance of escape is to fast and half starve myself." He did so with great reluctance, and after suffering hunger for three days, he with difficulty made his escape. As soon as he was out of danger, he took a farewell view of the scene of his late pleasure, and said: "O garden! thou art indeed charming, and delightful are thy fruits--delicious and exquisite; but of what benefit art thou to me? What have I now for all my labour and cunning? Am I not as lean as I was before?"--It is even so with man, remarks the Talmudist. Naked he comes into the world--naked must he go out of it, and of all his toils and labour he can carry nothing with him save the fruits of his righteousness.

* * * * *

From fables to parables the transition is easy; and many of those found in the Talmud are exceedingly beautiful, and are calculated to cause even the most thoughtless to reflect upon his way of life. Let us first take the parable of the Desolate Island, one of those adapted by the monkish compilers of European mediæval tales, to which reference has been made in the preceding sections:

_The Desolate Island._

A very wealthy man, who was of a kind, benevolent disposition, desired to make his slave happy. He therefore gave him his freedom, and presented him with a shipload of merchandise. "Go," said he, "sail to different countries; dispose of these goods, and that which thou mayest receive for them shall be thy own." The slave sailed away upon the broad ocean, but before he had been long on his voyage a storm overtook him, his ship was driven on a rock and went to pieces; all on board were lost--all save this slave, who swam to an island near by. Sad, despondent, with nothing in this world, he traversed this island until he approached a large and beautiful city, and many people approached him, joyously shouting: "Welcome! welcome! Long live the king!" They brought a rich carriage, and, placing him therein, escorted him to a magnificent palace, where many servants gathered about him--clothing him in royal garments, and addressing him as their sovereign, and expressing their obedience to his will. The slave was amazed and dazzled, believing that he was dreaming, and that all he saw, heard, and experienced was mere passing fantasy. Becoming convinced of the reality of his condition, he said to some men about him, for whom he entertained a friendly feeling: "How is this? I cannot understand it. That you should thus elevate and honour a man whom you know not--a poor, naked wanderer, whom you have never seen before--making him your ruler--causes me more wonder than I can readily express." "Sire," they replied, "this island is inhabited by spirits. Long since they prayed to God to send them yearly a son of man to reign over them, and he has answered their prayers. Yearly he sends them a son of man, whom they receive with honour and elevate to the throne; but his dignity and power end with the year. With its close the royal garments are taken from him, he is placed on board a ship, and carried to a vast and desolate island, where, unless he has previously been wise and prepared for the day, he will find neither friend nor subject, and be obliged to pass a weary, lonely, miserable life. Then a new king is selected here, and so year follows year. The kings who preceded thee were careless and indifferent, enjoying their power to the full, and thinking not of the day when it should end. Be wise, then. Let our words find rest within thy heart." The newly-made king listened attentively to all this, and felt grieved that he should have lost even the time he had already spent for making preparations for his loss of power. He addressed the wise man who had spoken, saying: "Advise me, O spirit of wisdom, how I may prepare for the days which will come upon me in the future." "Naked thou camest to us," replied the other, "and naked thou wilt be sent to the desolate island, of which I have told thee. At present thou art king, and mayest do as pleaseth thee; therefore, send workmen to this island, let them build houses, till the ground, and beautify the surroundings. The barren soil will be changed into fruitful fields, people will journey thither to live, and thou wilt have established a new kingdom for thyself, with subjects to welcome thee in gladness when thou shalt have lost thy power here. The year is short, the work is long; therefore be earnest and energetic." The king followed this advice. He sent workmen and materials to the desolate island, and before the close of his temporary power it had become a blooming, pleasant, and attractive spot. The rulers who had preceded him had anticipated the close of their power with dread, or smothered all thought of it in revelry; but he looked forward to it as a day of joy, when he should enter upon a career of permanent peace and happiness. The day came; the freed slave who had been made a king was deprived of his authority; with his power he lost his royal garments; naked he was placed upon a ship, and its sails were set for the desolate island. When he approached its shores, however, the people whom he had sent there came to meet him with music, song, and great joy. They made him a prince among them, and he lived ever after in pleasantness and peace.

The Talmudist thus explains this beautiful parable of the Desolate Island: The wealthy man of kindly disposition is God, and the slave to whom he gave freedom is the soul which he gives to man. The island at which the slave arrives is the world: naked and weeping he appears to his parents, who are the inhabitants that greet him warmly and make him their king. The friends who tell him of the ways of the country are his good inclinations. The year of his reign is his span of life, and the desolate island is the future world, which he must beautify by good deeds--the workmen and materials--or else live lonely and desolate for ever.[91]

[91] This is similar to the 10th parable in the spiritual
romance of Barlaam and Joasaph, written in Greek,
probably in the first half of the 7th century, and
ascribed to a monk called John of Damascus. Most of the
matter comprised in this interesting work (which has not
been translated into English) was taken from well-known
Buddhist sources, and M. Zotenberg and other eminent
scholars are of the opinion that it was first composed,
probably in Egypt, before the promulgation of Islám. The
10th parable is to this effect: The citizens of a
certain great city had an ancient custom, to take a
stranger and obscure man, who knew nothing of the city's
laws and traditions, and to make him king with absolute
power for a year's space; then to rise against him all
unawares, while he, all thoughtless, was revelling and
squandering and deeming the kingdom his for ever; and
stripping off his royal robes, lead him naked in
procession through the city, and banish him to a
long-uninhabited and great island, where, worn down for
want of food and raiment, he bewailed this unexpected
change. Now, according to this custom, a man was chosen
whose mind was furnished with much understanding, who
was not led away by sudden prosperity, and was
thoughtful and earnest in soul as to how he should best
order his affairs. By close questioning, he learned from
a wise counsellor the citizens' custom, and the place of
exile, and was instructed how he might secure himself.
When he knew this, and that he must soon go to the
island and leave his acquired and alien kingdom to
others, he opened the treasures of which he had for the
time free and unrestricted use, and took an abundant
quantity of gold and silver and precious stones, and
giving them to some trusty servants sent them before him
to the island. At the appointed year's end the citizens
rose and sent him naked into exile, like those before
him. But the other foolish and flitting kings had
perished miserably of hunger, while he who had laid up
that treasure beforehand lived in lusty abundance and
delight, fearless of the turbulent citizens, and
felicitating himself on his wise forethought. Think,
then, the city this vain and deceitful world, the
citizens the principalities and powers of the demons,
who lure us with the bait of pleasure, and make us
believe enjoyment will last for ever, till the sudden
peril of death is upon us.--This parable (which seems to
be of purely Hebrew origin) is also found in the old
Spanish story-book _El Conde Lucanor_.

Closely allied to the foregoing is the characteristic Jewish parable of

_The Man and his Three Friends._

A certain man had three friends, two of whom he loved dearly, but the other he lightly esteemed. It happened one day that the king commanded his presence at court, at which he was greatly alarmed, and wished to procure an advocate. Accordingly he went to the two friends whom he loved: one flatly refused to accompany him, the other offered to go with him as far as the king's gate, but no farther. In his extremity he called upon the third friend, whom he least esteemed, and he not only went willingly with him, but so ably defended him before the king that he was acquitted. In like manner, says the Talmudist, every man has three friends when Death summons him to appear before his Creator. His first friend, whom he loves most, namely, his _money_, cannot go with him a single step; his second, _relations_ and _neighbours_, can only accompany him to the grave, but cannot defend him before the Judge; while his third friend, whom he does not highly esteem, the _law_ and his _good works_, goes with him before the king, and obtains his acquittal.[92]

[92] This is the 9th parable in the romance of Barlaam and
Joasaph, where it is told without any variation.

* * * * *

Another striking and impressive parable akin to the two immediately preceding is this of

_The Garments._

A king distributed amongst his servants various costly garments. Now some of these servants were wise and some were foolish. And those that were wise said to themselves: "The king may call again for the garments; let us therefore take care they do not get soiled." But the fools took no manner of care of theirs, and did all sorts of work in them, so that they became full of spots and grease. Some time afterwards the king called for the garments. The wise servants brought theirs clean and neat, but the foolish servants brought theirs in a sad state, ragged and unclean. The king was pleased with the first, and said: "Let the clean garments be placed in the treasury, and let their keepers depart in peace. As for the unclean garments, they must be washed and purified, and their foolish keepers must be cast into prison."--This parable is designed to illustrate the passage in Eccles., xii, 7, "Then shall the dust return to the earth as it was, and the spirit shall return unto God, who gave it"; which words "teach us to remember that God gave us the soul in a state of innocence and purity, and that it is therefore our duty to return it unto him in the same state as he gave it unto us--pure and undefiled."

_Solomon's Choice_

of Wisdom, in preference to all other precious things, is thus finely illustrated: A certain king had an officer whom he fondly loved. One day he desired his favourite to choose anything that he could give, and it would at once be granted him. The officer considered that if he asked the king for gold and silver and precious stones, these would be given him in abundance; then he thought that if he had a more exalted station it would be granted; at last he resolved to ask the king for his daughter, since with such a bride both riches and honours would also be his. In like manner did Solomon pray, "Give thy servant an understanding heart," when the Lord said to him, "What shall I give thee?" (1st Kings, iii, 5, 9.)

But perhaps the most beautiful and touching of all the Talmudic parables is the following (Polano's version), in which Israel is likened to a bride, waiting sadly, yet hopefully, for the coming of her spouse:

_Bride and Bridegroom._

There was once a man who pledged his dearest faith to a maiden beautiful and true. For a time all passed pleasantly, and the maiden lived in happiness. But then the man was called from her side, and he left her. Long she waited, but still he did not return. Friends pitied her, and rivals mocked her; tauntingly they pointed to her and said: "He has left thee, and will never come back." The maiden sought her chamber, and read in secret the letters which her lover had written to her--the letters in which he promised to be ever faithful, ever true. Weeping, she read them, but they brought comfort to her heart; she dried her eyes and doubted not. A joyous day dawned for her: the man she loved returned, and when he learned that others had doubted, while she had not, he asked her how she had preserved her faith; and she showed his letters to him, declaring her eternal trust. [In like manner] Israel, in misery and captivity, was mocked by the nations; her hopes of redemption were made a laughing-stock; her sages scoffed at; her holy men derided. Into her synagogues, into her schools, went Israel. She read the letters which her God had written, and believed in the holy promises which they contained. God will in time redeem her; and when he says: "How could you alone be faithful of all the mocking nations?" she will point to the law and answer: "Had not thy law been my delight, I should long since have perished in my affliction."[93]

[93] Psalm cxix, 92.--By the way, it is probably known to
most readers that the twenty-two sections into which
this grand poem is divided are named after the letters
of the Hebrew alphabet; but from the translation given
in our English Bible no one could infer that in the
original every one of the eight verses in each section
begins with the letter after which it is named, thus
forming a very long acrostic.

* * * * *

In the account of the Call of Abraham given in the Book of Genesis, xii, 1-3, we are not told that his people were all idolaters; but in the Book of Joshua, xxiv, 1-2, it is said that the great successor of Moses, when he had "waxed old and was stricken with age," assembled the tribes of Israel, at Shechem, and said to the people: "Your fathers dwelt on the other side of the flood in old time, even Terah, the father of Abraham and the father of Nachor; and they served other gods." The sacred narrative does not state the circumstances which induced Abraham to turn away from the worship of false deities, but the information is furnished by the Talmudists--possibly from ancient oral tradition--in this interesting tale of

_Abraham and the Idols._

Abraham's father Terah, who dwelt in Ur of the Chaldees, was not only an idolater, but a maker of idols. Having occasion to go a journey of some distance, he instructed Abraham how to conduct the business of idol-selling during his absence. The future founder of the Hebrew nation, however, had already obtained a knowledge of the true and living God, and consequently held the practice of idolatry in the utmost abhorrence. Accordingly, whenever any one came to buy an idol Abraham inquired his age, and upon his answering, "I am fifty (or sixty) years old," he would exclaim, "Woe to the man of fifty who would worship the work of man's hands!" and his father's customers went away shamefaced at the rebuke. But, not content with this mode of showing his contempt for idolatry, Abraham resolved to bring matters to a crisis before his father returned home; and an opportunity was presented for his purpose one day when a woman came to Terah's house with a bowl of fine flour, which she desired Abraham to place as a votive offering before the idols. Instead of doing this, however, Abraham took a hammer and broke all the idols into fragments excepting the largest, into whose hands he then placed the hammer. On Terah's return he discovered the destruction of his idols, and angrily demanded of Abraham, who had done the mischief. "There came hither a woman," replied Abraham, "with a bowl of fine flour, which, as she desired, I set before the gods, whereupon they disputed among themselves who should eat first, and the tallest god broke all the rest into pieces with the hammer." "What fable is this thou art telling me?" exclaimed Terah. "As for the god thou speakest of, is he not the work of my own hands?' Did I not carve him out of the timber of the tree which I cut down in the wilderness? How, then, could he have done this evil? Verily _thou_ hast broken my idols!" "Consider, my father," said Abraham, "what it is thou sayest--that I am capable of destroying the gods which thou dost worship!" Then Terah took and delivered him to Nimrod, who said to Abraham: "Let us worship the fire." To which Abraham replied: "Rather the water that quenches the fire." "Well, the water." "Rather the cloud which carries the water." "Well, the cloud." "Rather the wind that scatters the cloud." "Well, the wind." "Rather man, for he endures the wind." "Thou art a babbler!" exclaimed Nimrod. "I worship the fire, and will cast thee into it. Perchance the God whom thou dost adore will deliver thee from thence." Abraham was accordingly thrown into a heated furnace, but God saved him.[94]

[94] After Abraham had walked to and fro unscathed amidst the
fierce flames for three days, the faggots were suddenly
transformed into a blooming garden of roses and
fruit-trees and odoriferous plants.--This legend is
introduced into the Kurán, and Muslim writers, when they
expatiate on the almighty power of Allah, seldom omit to
make reference to Nimrod's flaming furnace being turned
into a bed of roses.

* * * * *

Alexander the Great is said to have wept because there were no more worlds for him to conquer; and truly says the sage Hebrew King, "The grave and destruction can never have enough, nor are the eyes of man ever satisfied" (Prov. xxvii, 20), a sentiment which the following tale, or parable, is designed to exemplify:

_The Vanity of Ambition._

Pursuing his journey through dreary deserts and uncultivated ground, Alexander came at last to a small rivulet, whose waters glided peacefully along their shelving banks. Its smooth, unruffled surface was the image of contentment, and seemed in its silence to say, "This is the abode of tranquility." All was still: not a sound was heard save soft murmuring tones which seemed to whisper in the ear of the weary traveller, "Come, and partake of nature's bounty," and to complain that such an offer should be made in vain. To a contemplative mind, such a scene might have suggested a thousand delightful reflections. But what charms could it have for the soul of Alexander, whose breast was filled with schemes of ambition and conquest; whose eye was familiarised with rapine and slaughter; and whose ears were accustomed to the clash of arms--to the groans of the wounded and the dying? Onward, therefore, he marched. Yet, overcome by fatigue and hunger, he was soon obliged to halt. He seated himself on the bank of the river, took a draught of the water, which he found of a very fine flavour and most refreshing. He then ordered some salt fish, with which he was well provided, to be brought to him. These he caused to be dipped in the stream, in order to take off the briny taste, and was greatly surprised to find them emit a fine fragrance. "Surely," said he, "this river, which possesses such uncommon qualities, must flow from some very rich and happy country."

Following the course of the river, he at length arrived at the gates of Paradise. The gates were shut. He knocked, and, with his usual impetuosity, demanded admittance. "Thou canst not be admitted here," exclaimed a voice from within; "this gate is the Lord's." "I am the Lord--the Lord of the earth," rejoined the impatient chief. "I am Alexander the Conqueror. Will you not admit _me_?" "No," was the answer; "here we know of no conquerors, save such as conquer their passions: _None but the just can enter here_." Alexander endeavoured in vain to enter the abode of the blessed--neither entreaties nor menaces availed. Seeing all his attempts fruitless, he addressed himself to the guardian of Paradise, and said: "You know I am a great king, who has received the homage of nations. Since you will not admit me, give me at least some token that I may show an astonished world that I have been where no mortal has ever been before me." "Here, madman," said the guardian of Paradise--"here is something for thee. It may cure the maladies of thy distempered soul. One glance at it may teach thee more wisdom than thou hast hitherto derived from all thy former instructors. Now go thy ways."

Alexander took the present with avidity, and repaired to his tent. But what was his confusion and surprise to find, on examining his present, that it was nothing but a fragment of a human skull. "And is this," exclaimed he, "the mighty gift that they bestow on kings and heroes? Is this the fruit of so much toil and danger and care?" Enraged and disappointed, he threw it on the ground. "Great king," said one of the learned men who were present, "do not despise this gift. Contemptible as it may appear in thine eyes, it yet possesses some extraordinary qualities, of which thou mayest soon be convinced, if thou wilt but cause it to be weighed against gold or silver." Alexander ordered this to be done. A pair of scales were brought. The skull was placed in one, a quantity of gold in the other; when, to the astonishment of the beholders, the skull over-balanced the gold. More gold was added, yet still the skull preponderated. In short, the more gold there was put in the one scale the lower sank that which contained the skull. "Strange," exclaimed Alexander, "that so small a portion of matter should outweigh so large a mass of gold! Is there nothing that will counterpoise it?" "Yes," answered the philosophers, "a very little matter will do it." They then took some earth and covered the skull with it, when immediately down went the gold, and the opposite scale ascended. "This is very extraordinary," said Alexander, astonished. "Can you explain this phenomenon?" "Great king," said the sages, "this fragment is the socket of a human eye, which, though small in compass, is yet unbounded in its desires. The more it has, the more it craves. Neither gold nor silver nor any other earthly possession can ever satisfy it. But when it is once laid in the grave and covered with a little earth, there is an end to its lust and ambition."

* * * * *

Shakspeare's well-known masterly description of the Seven Ages of Man, which he puts into the mouth of the melancholy Jaques (_As You Like It_, ii, 7), was anticipated by Rabbi Simon, the son of Eliezer, in this Talmudic description of

_The Seven Stages of Human Life._

Seven times in one verse did the author of Ecclesiastes make use of the word _vanity_, in allusion to the seven stages of human life.[95]

[95] Eccles., i, 2. The word Vanity (remarks Hurwitz, the
translator) occurs twice in the plural, which the Rabbi
considered as equivalent to four, and three times in the
singular, making altogether _seven_.

The first commences in the first year of human existence, when the _infant_ lies like a king on a soft couch, with numerous attendants about him, all ready to serve him, and eager to testify their love and attachment by kisses and embraces.

The second commences about the age of two or three years, when the darling _child_ is permitted to crawl on the ground, and, like an unclean animal, delights in dirt and filth.

Then at the age of ten, the thoughtless _boy_, without reflecting on the past or caring for the future, jumps and skips about like a young kid on the enamelled green, contented to enjoy the present moment.

The fourth stage begins about the age of twenty, when the _young man_, full of vanity and pride, begins to set off his person by dress; and, like a young unbroken horse, prances and gallops about in search of a wife.

Then comes the _matrimonial state_, when the poor _man_, like a patient ass, is obliged, however reluctantly, to toil and labour for a living.

Behold him now in the _parental state_, when surrounded by helpless children craving his support and looking to him for bread. He is as bold, as vigilant, and as fawning, too, as the faithful dog; guarding his little flock, and snatching at everything that comes in his way, in order to provide for his offspring.

At last comes the final stage, when the decrepit _old man_, like the unwieldy though most sagacious elephant, becomes grave, sedate, and distrustful. He then also begins to hang down his head towards the ground, as if surveying the place where all his vast schemes must terminate, and where ambition and vanity are finally humbled to the dust.

* * * * *

But the Talmudist, in his turn, was forestalled by Bhartrihari, an ancient Hindú sage, one of whose three hundred apothegms has been thus rendered into English by Sir Monier Williams:

Now for a little while a child; and now
An amorous youth; then for a season turned
Into a wealthy householder; then, stripped
Of all his riches, with decrepit limbs
And wrinkled frame, man creeps towards the end
Of life's erratic course; and, like an actor,
Passes behind Death's curtain out of view.

Here, however, the Indian philosopher describes human life as consisting of only four scenes; but, like our own Shakspeare, he compares the world to a stage and man to a player. An epigram preserved in the _Anthologia_ also likens the world to a theatre and human life to a drama:

This life a theatre we well may call,
Where every actor must perform with art;
Or laugh it through, and make a farce of all,
Or learn to bear with grace a tragic part.

It is surely both instructive and interesting thus to discover resemblances in thought and expression in the writings of men of comprehensive intellect, who lived in countries and in times far apart.

VI

WISE SAYINGS OF THE RABBIS.

"Concise sentences," says Bacon, "like darts, fly abroad and make impressions, while long discourses are flat things, and not regarded." And Seneca has remarked that "even rude and uncultivated minds are struck, as it were, with those short but weighty sentences which anticipate all reasoning by flashing truths upon them at once." Wise men in all ages seem to have been fully aware of the advantage of condensing into pithy sentences the results of their observations of the course of human life; and the following selection of sayings of the Jewish Fathers, taken from the _Pirke Aboth_ (the 41st treatise of the Talmud, compiled by Nathan of Babylon, A.D. 200), and other sources, will be found to be quite as sagacious as the aphorisms of the most celebrated philosophers of India and Greece:

This world is like an ante-chamber in comparison with the world to come; prepare thyself in the ante-chamber, therefore, that thou mayest enter into the dining-room.

Be humble to a superior, and affable to an inferior, and receive all men with cheerfulness.

Be not scornful to any, nor be opposed to all things; for there is no man that hath not his hour, nor is there anything which hath not its place.

Attempt not to appease thy neighbour in the time of his anger, nor comfort him in the time when his dead is lying before him, nor ask of him in the time of his vowing, nor desire to see him in the time of his calamity.[96]

[96] "Do not," says Nakhshabí, "try to move by persuasion the
soul that is afflicted with grief. The heart that is
overwhelmed with the billows of sorrow will, by slow
degrees, return to itself."

Hold no man responsible for his utterances in times of grief.

Who gains wisdom? He who is willing to receive instruction from all sources. Who is rich? He who is content with his lot. Who is deserving of honour? He who honoureth mankind. Who is the mighty man? He who subdueth his temper.[97]

[97] "He who subdueth his temper is a mighty man," says the
Talmudist; and Solomon had said so before him: "He that
is slow to anger is better than the mighty, and he that
ruleth his spirit than he that taketh a city" (Prov.
xvi, 32). A curious parallel to these words is found in
an ancient Buddhistic work, entitled _Buddha's
Dhammapada_, or Path of Virtue, as follows: "If one man
conquer in battle a thousand times a thousand men, and
if another conquer himself, he is the greatest of
conquerors." (Professor Max Müller's translation,
prefixed to _Buddhagosha's Parables_, translated by
Captain Rogers.)

When a liar speaks the truth, he finds his punishment in being generally disbelieved.

The physician who prescribes gratuitously gives a worthless prescription.

He who hardens his heart with pride softens his brains with the same.

The day is short, the labour vast; but the labourers are still slothful, though the reward is great, and the Master presseth for despatch.[98]

[98] Cf. Saádí, _ante_, page 41, "Life is snow," etc.

He who teacheth a child is like one who writeth on new paper; and he who teacheth old people is like one who writeth on blotted paper.[99]

[99] Locke was anticipated not only by the Talmudist, as
above, but long before him by Aristotle, who termed the
infant soul _tabula rasa_, which was in all likelihood
borrowed by the author of the Persian work on the
practical philosophy of the Muhammedans, entitled
_Akhlák-i-Jalaly_, who says: "The minds of children are
like a clear tablet, equally open to all inscriptions."

First learn and then teach.

Teach thy tongue to say, "I do not know."

The birds of the air despise a miser.

If thy goods sell not in one city, take them to another.

Victuals prepared by many cooks will be neither cold nor hot.[100]

[100] Too many cooks spoil the broth.--_English Proverb_.

Two pieces of money in a large jar make more noise than a hundred.[101]

[101] Two farthings and a thimble
In a tailor's pocket make a jingle.--_English Saying_.

Into the well which supplies thee with water cast no stones.[102]

[102] "Don't speak ill of the bridge that bore you safe over
the stream" seems to be the European equivalent.

When love is intense, both find room enough upon one bench; afterwards, they may find themselves cramped in a space of sixty cubits.[103]

[103] Python, of Byzantium, was a very corpulent man. He once
said to the citizens, in addressing them to make friends
after a political dispute: "Gentlemen, you see how stout
I am. Well, I have a wife at home who is still stouter.
Now, when we are good friends, we can sit together on a
very small couch; but when we quarrel, I do assure you,
the whole house cannot contain us."--_Athenæus_, xii.

The place honours not the man; it is the man who gives honour to the place.

Few are they who see their own faults.[104]

[104] Compare Burns:

O wad some power the giftie gie us
To see oursels as ithers see us!

Thy friend has a friend, and thy friend's friend has a friend: be discreet.[105]

[105] See the Persian aphorisms on revealing secrets, _ante_,
p. 48.--Burns, in his "Epistle to a Young Friend," says:

Aye free aff hand your story tell
When wi' a bosom crony,
But still keep something to yoursel'
Ye scarcely tell to ony.

Poverty sits as gracefully upon some people as a red saddle upon a white horse.

Rather be thou the tail among lions than the head among foxes.[106]

[106] The very reverse of our English proverb, "Better to be
the head of the commonalty than the tail of the gentry."

The thief who finds no opportunity to steal considers himself an honest man.

Use thy noble vase to-day, for to-morrow it may perchance be broken.

Descend a step in choosing thy wife; ascend a step in choosing thy friend.

A myrtle even in the dust remains a myrtle.[107]

[107] Saádí has the same sentiment in his _Gulislán_--see
_ante_, p. 49.

Every one whose wisdom exceedeth his deeds, to what is he like? To a tree whose branches are many and its roots few; and the wind cometh and plucketh it up, and overturneth it on its face.[108]

[108] See also Saádí's aphorisms on precept and practice,
_ante_, p. 47.

If a word spoken in time be worth one piece of money, silence in its place is worth two.[109]

[109] Here we have a variant of Thomas Carlyle's favourite
maxim, "Speech is silvern; silence is golden."

Silence is the fence round wisdom.[110]

[110] "Nothing is so good for an ignorant man as silence; and
if he were sensible of this he would not be
ignorant."--_Saádí_.

A saying ascribed to Esop has been frequently cited with admiration. The sage Chilo asked Esop what God was doing, and he answered that he was "depressing the proud and exalting the humble." A parallel to this is presented in the answer of Rabbi Jose to a woman who asked him what God had been doing since the creation: "He makes ladders on which he causes the poor to ascend and the rich to descend," in other words, exalts the lowly and humbles the haughty.

* * * * *

The lucid explanation of the expression, "I, God, am a jealous God," given by a Rabbi, has been thus elegantly translated by Coleridge:[111]

[111] _The Friend_, ed. 1850, vol. ii, p. 249.

"Your God," said a heathen philosopher to a Hebrew Rabbi, "in his Book calls himself a jealous God, who can endure no other god besides himself, and on all occasions makes manifest his abhorrence of idolatry. How comes it, then, that he threatens and seems to hate the worshippers of false gods more than the false gods themselves?"

"A certain king," said the Rabbi, "had a disobedient son. Among other worthless tricks of various kinds, he had the baseness to give his dogs his father's names and titles. Should the king show anger with the prince or his dogs?"

"Well-turned," replied the philosopher; but if God destroyed the objects of idolatry, he would take away the temptation to it."

"Yea," retorted the Rabbi; "if the fools worshipped such things only as were of no farther use than that to which their folly applied them--if the idol were always as worthless as the idolatry is contemptible. But they worship the sun, the moon, the host of heaven, the rivers, the sea, fire, air, and what not. Would you that the Creator, for the sake of those fools, should ruin his own works, and disturb the laws applied to nature by his own wisdom? If a man steal grain and sow it, should the seed not shoot up out of the earth because it was stolen? O no! The wise Creator lets nature run its own course, for its course is his own appointment. And what if the children of folly abuse it to evil? The day of reckoning is not far off, and men will then learn that human actions likewise reappear in their consequences by as certain a law as that which causes the green blade to rise up out of the buried cornfield."

* * * * *

Not less conclusive was the form of illustration employed by Rabbi Joshuah in answer to the emperor Trajan. "You teach," said Trajan, "that your God is everywhere. I should like to see him." "God's presence," replied the Rabbi, "is indeed everywhere, but he cannot be seen. No mortal can behold his glory." Trajan repeated his demand. "Well," said the Rabbi, "suppose we try, in the first place, to look at one of his ambassadors." The emperor consented, and Joshuah took him into the open air, and desired him to look at the sun in its meridian splendour. "I cannot," said Trajan; "the light dazzles me." "Thou canst not endure the light of one of his creatures," said the Rabbi, "yet dost thou expect to behold the effulgent glory of the Creator!"

* * * * *

Our selections from the sayings of the Hebrew Fathers might be largely extended, but we shall conclude them with the following: A Rabbi, being asked why God dealt out manna to the Israelites day by day, instead of giving them a supply sufficient for a year, or more, answered by a parable to this effect: There was once a king who gave a certain yearly allowance to his son, whom he saw, in consequence, but once a year, when he came to receive it; so the king changed his plan, and paid him his allowance daily, and thus had the pleasure of seeing his son each day. And so with the manna: had God given the people a supply for a year they would have forgotten their divine benefactor, but by sending them each day the requisite quantity, they had God constantly in their minds.

* * * * *

There can be no doubt that the Rabbis derived the materials of many of their legends and tales of Biblical characters from foreign sources; but their beautiful moral stories and parables, which "hide a rich truth in a tale's pretence," are probably for the most part of their own invention; and the fact that the Talmud was partially, if not wholly, translated into Arabic shortly after the settlement of the Moors in Spain sufficiently accounts for the early introduction of rabbinical legends into Muhammedan works, apart from those found in the Kurán.

_ADDITIONAL NOTES._

ADAM AND THE OIL OF MERCY.