Jewish Fairy Stories (Friedlander, 1920) Reader

King Solomon, the wisest of men, resolved to build a temple dedicated to the glory of the God of Israel. He remembered the sacred words of Scripture: “And if thou make me an altar of stone, thou shalt not build it of hewn stones: for if thou lift up thy tool upon it, thou hast polluted it” (Exod. xx. 25). The tools of iron symbolized the sword, the instrument of war and death; whilst the altar and temple were the symbols of peace and life. Solomon desired that not only the altar, but all the stone-work in the sacred edifice should be made ready for the builders at the quarry without using any metal implement.

How was this wish to be realized? In despair the King summoned his great council of state. He told them his difficulty and asked them if they could help him to achieve his purpose. After a while one of the most venerable of those present arose and, turning to the King, spake as follows:—

“Long live the King! Hast thou not heard that among the countless creatures of the Most High there is one which can serve thee as thy heart desires? It can cut stone better than the sharpest tool of iron. I refer to the tiny but wonderful worm called the Shamir. Dost thou not know how the Almighty created ten marvels in the twilight of the eve of the first Sabbath in the week of creation? Among these marvels was the worm Shamir. Its size is that of a grain of barley. It can split the hardest stone by merely touching it. Moreover, iron is broken by its mere presence.”

“Now tell me, where is this marvellous little worm to be found?”

“No mortal being has ever discovered the home of the Shamir. Art thou not ruler of all the spirits and demons? Seek their aid, Sire! and thou wilt find the Shamir.”

The good advice of the counsellor appealed with irresistible conviction to Solomon’s heart. He looked at the ring on his right hand and read the Holy Name of God engraved thereon. No sooner had he pronounced the Divine Name than a demon appeared before him and, making obeisance, cried,—

“What is thy wish, Solomon, King of Israel?”

“I command thee,” said Solomon, “to tell me where is the worm Shamir to be found?”

In a trembling voice the demon replied,—

“The secret thou desirest to know has not been revealed to any of the inferior demons. It is only Ashmodai our King who is in possession of the secret. Ashmodai lives far away from the haunts of men. His palace is built on the top of a very high mountain. In this same mountain he has had a very deep well dug. Daily he fetches his drinking water from this well, then closes up the mouth of the well with an enormous rock which he seals with his signet-ring. He then flies up to heaven to receive the orders of those who are his superiors. With the going down of the sun in the west, he returns to his own home. He examines the seal on the rock at the mouth of the well, then uncovers the well and partakes of the water. Having quenched his thirst he covers up again the mouth of the well and seals it afresh.”

King Solomon then summoned to his presence his brave captain and friend Benaiah, son of Jehoiada, saying,—

“Go, trusty servant Benaiah, and capture Ashmodai, the King of the demons, and bring him before my presence. To assist thee I will give thee this golden chain on the links of which the letters forming the Divine Name are engraved. I also will entrust to thy care my signet-ring which is also engraved with the Holy Name of the Most High. Take with thee also this large bundle of white wool and these skins full of strong wine.”

The brave warrior set out on his dangerous expedition. After many days of hard riding across the great desert he reached his destination. He feared neither man nor spirit, for he was wearing on his little finger King Solomon’s signet-ring. When half-way up the mountain he bored a hole and discovered the position of the well. He drew off the water and stopped up the hole with the wool. Quite near to this hole, Benaiah pierced an aperture which ran into the well, and through this channel he poured all the wine in the skins. Then he concealed himself behind a large crag and waited for the arrival of the King of the demons.

Soon after sunset Ashmodai drew nigh. He examined the seal on the rock and found it intact. After he had rolled away the rock, he descended into the well to quench his thirst. No sooner had he tasted the wine than he desired to drink more and more. After he had partaken very freely of the strong wine, his head became heavy, his body staggered and his knees gave way. At last he fell to the ground and slept soundly.

Benaiah now crept very quietly to the sleeping demon. Without wasting a moment, the good captain threw the golden chain around Ashmodai’s neck and sealed it with the golden signet-ring engraved with the Divine Name. After a while Ashmodai awoke and found that he was no longer free. He uttered such a terrible groan that the mountain shook. In his anger sparks of fire flew from his eyes and foam covered his mouth. He looked at Benaiah and cried in bitter anger,—

“Is it thou who hast bewitched me?”

“Verily,” replied Benaiah, “behold the Name of the Lord of lords is upon thee.”

Ashmodai immediately became quiet and calm. On their way to the Holy City, in a market-place they met a happy bridal procession. When the bride and bridegroom passed, Ashmodai began to weep.

“Why dost thou weep?” Benaiah asked in surprise.

“Alas!” replied Ashmodai, “within three days the bridegroom will be a corpse. Do I not do well to weep?”

In the next town they overheard a farmer asking a bootmaker to make a pair of shoes which were to last him for seven years. Whereupon Ashmodai burst out laughing.

“Because the poor fellow will not wear his shoes for even seven days; behold within a week he will die. We demons judge persons and things according to their true value and not according to their deceptive appearance in the eyes of man.”

When at last they came to the royal presence, Solomon said,—

“I wish to build a great Temple to the glory of the Creator of heaven and earth, and for this purpose I require the services of the wonderful worm Shamir. Tell me now, where can I find this tiny creature?”

Ashmodai with a trembling voice replied,—

“Since the days of Moses, who employed the Shamir when writing on the tablets of stone, the worm has been entrusted to the care of the Prince of the Sea who has given it into the charge of the wood-cock. The wood-cock lives in a big nest built on the top of a very lofty pinnacle in a mountain range. Whenever he goes from his nest he takes the Shamir with him, carrying it beneath his wing.”

Once again King Solomon summoned his trusty captain Benaiah, telling him to discover the nest of the wood-cock and to obtain the Shamir.

“Take with thee a glass cover, a little wool and a small leaden box.”

At last Benaiah discovered the nest of the bird he sought. The wood-cock was away. Benaiah now covered the nest with the glass cover, then concealed himself and awaited events. When the wood-cock returned he found himself foiled, for the glass was very hard and strong. As a last resource, he produced the Shamir from beneath his wing and put it on the glass, which split into pieces as soon as it was touched by the wonderful worm. At that instant Benaiah raised a lusty cry and frightened the wood-cock so that he dropped the Shamir. Benaiah seized it, placed it in the wool and secured it in the small leaden box.

Benaiah reached the Holy City in safety and delivered to King Solomon the wonderful worm. With its marvellous help the wise King built the Temple, and thereafter the Shamir has disappeared and no one knows where it is to be found.

After good old father Noah had completed the building of the ark, the animals were gathered together near it by the angels appointed over them. They came in pairs, and Noah stood at the door of the ark to see that each one entered with its mate. As soon as the waters of the flood rose upon the surface of the earth, the children of men hid themselves in their homes for safety. All traffic and business ceased, for the angel of death was abroad. This state of affairs caused Falsehood to realize that henceforth there was no chance of her plying her trade. Was it not quite evident that the ever-increasing waters of the flood would soon sweep away the wicked folk who had rebelled against their Heavenly Creator? Where should Falsehood betake herself for safety?

Forthwith she hastened to the ark, but its door was shut. What was to be done?

Falsehood knocked at the door with trembling hand. Noah opened the window of the ark, and put out his head to see who was knocking. It was a strange creature before his door. Noah had never seen her before, because he was a righteous man who never told lies.

“What dost thou want?” he cried.

“Let me come in, please,” she replied.

“Gladly,” cried Noah, “would I admit thee if thy mate were with thee, for only pairs are admitted here.”

In grief and disappointment Falsehood went away. She had not gone a few yards before she met her old friend Wickedness, who was now out of employment.

“Whence cometh thou, dear friend Falsehood?” asked Wickedness.

“I come,” said Falsehood, “from old father Noah. Just listen. I asked him to let me come into the ark, but he refused unless I complied with his rules.”

“What does he require?” asked Wickedness.

“The good old man stipulated that I must have a mate, because all the creatures admitted into the ark are in pairs,” Falsehood replied.

“Now, dear friend, is this the truth?” queried Wickedness with a merry twinkle in his evil eye.

“Of course it is the truth, on my word of honour,” rejoined Falsehood. “Come now,” she added, “wilt thou be my mate? Are we not just fit to be joined together, two honest and poor creatures?”

“If I agree,” said Wickedness, “what wilt thou give me in return?”

Falsehood thought awhile and with a cunning look at her friend she exclaimed,—

“I faithfully promise to give to thee all that I earn in the ark. Have no fear, I shall do excellent business even there, because I feel very fit and energetic.”

Wickedness agreed to the terms immediately, and there and then a proper agreement was drawn up, and duly signed and sealed. Without further delay they both hastened to Noah, who readily admitted the happy pair.

Falsehood soon began to be very busy and earned good money. She often thought of her agreement with Wickedness with regret, as she realized that she alone did all the business. She even said to him one day,—

“Look here, how easily can I carry on my trade single-handed?”

He merely reminded her of the agreement, and day by day he wrote down in his ledger the sum total of the day’s takings.

At the end of the year, for the flood lasted twelve months, they came out of the ark. Falsehood brought home much treasure, but Wickedness came with her and claimed the whole of the hard-earned fortune. Thereupon Falsehood said to herself, “I will ask my mate to give me some of my earnings.”

She approached Wickedness and in a gentle voice said,—

“Dearest friend, please give me a share of what I have so honestly earned, for I alone did all the work.”

Wickedness looked at her in contempt and with harsh voice cried aloud,—

“Thy share is nought, O cheat! Did we not solemnly agree that I was to take everything which thou shouldst earn? How could I break our agreement? Would this not be a very wicked thing to do, now would it not?”

Falsehood held her peace and went away, well knowing that she had been foiled in her attempt to cheat her friend Wickedness. True indeed is the proverb: “Falsehood begets much, but Wickedness taketh all that away.”

The marriage service began, and at its conclusion the guests took their places at the banquet. At the head of the table sat the bridegroom, and at his side was his beautiful bride. The guests began to eat and to drink, when all of a sudden there was seen at the door of the room a beggar in rags and tatters, his skin yellow and unwashed, his hair unkempt and his stature bent. His eyes were flaming like fire, and at his presence profound silence obtained. Not a sound was heard within the room; all was hushed in strange suspense, till Joseph in a loud and fearless voice cried,—

"Come hither, good friend; you are most welcome at this, my marriage feast. At my side shall you sit, for here all are most heartily welcome, rich and poor alike."

Joseph told the servants to go to the door of the house and to invite all the poor who passed by to join his guests.

The beggar went to the seat next to Joseph's and sat down. Joseph waited on his unknown guest and gave him of the best. When the banquet was over the bride arose and retired to her apartment. Joseph arose likewise and was about to follow her when the beggar placed his hand on Joseph's shoulder and said in a whisper—

"I must have just one word with you in private, please. I cannot stay here much longer, but I have to tell you why I am with you to-day."

Joseph led him to an empty room and requested him to be seated. After a moment or two had elapsed the stranger began to speak as follows:—

"My friend, I am truly sorry for your own and also for your dear wife's sake, but I have come here on a very sad errand. I am sent to you against my will. It is God who has sent me here to take you to Him. Prepare now to leave the world and all its joys."

Joseph looked at his guest without fear, and in a very calm voice he said,—

"If this be God's will, so be it done in love and obedience. Nevertheless, I do beseech you grant me a respite—just one year in happiness with my wife, and then I promise to go with you."

"No, my good friend, it cannot be," cried the angel of death, who was in the beggar's guise. "Not even a month," said the angel, "not even the seven days of rejoicing appointed to be kept by bride and bridegroom, not even one day's delay, but this very day must you die even as the former three husbands of your beloved wife."

Joseph made haste to reply,—

"God's word is true, and He is true. If you cannot accede to my petition to grant me a respite, give me leave to go to my wife and to bid her farewell."

"This will I gladly allow," exclaimed the angel, "in return for your kindness to me this day; you knew me not—yet have you treated me as a friend."

The angel spoke so gently because his heart was full of sorrow. He knew that Joseph was a good and true man, and it grieved him to lead him through the valley of the shadow of death.

Joseph hastened to his wife's apartment and entered. He found her rapt in prayer with tears in her eyes.

"Quick, my beloved," he whispered, "my time is very short, I cannot stay here, I must hasten far away with the strange beggar. He has come to fetch me. Let me bless you for your unfailing sweetness and love; come, let me kiss you for the last time."

"If," she cried, "you hasten away I will go with you, for now we are one and nothing shall ever part us, not even cruel death itself."

With a passionate grip she took his hand and told him to lead her to the beggar. When she saw him, she said,—

"Stranger! you are still our guest beneath our roof. If you would repay our hospitality this day just grant me one little favour. Take me with my husband to the Eternal Judge and I will ask Him whether His holy word in the Law is true. Is it not written therein: 'And what man is there that hath betrothed a wife, and hath not taken her, let him go and return to his house, lest he die in the battle and another man take her'" (Deut. xx. 7)?

"Nay," cried the angel, "I will go for you and I will bring you answer again."

His sorrow for the unfortunate bride and bridegroom prompted him to do this service of love. The angel added,—

"I will join in the choir of angels who praise God morning and evening, and I will put your question before the Father of Mercy who dwells with the meek and the broken-hearted. I hope for the sake of both of you that Joseph's life will be spared."

In a moment the angel was gone and in another moment he returned. His face was shining with heavenly light and his voice was sweet and soft.

"Listen," he said. "Good friends! I rejoice to tell you that your prayers have been heard. Live well and long together, enjoy your life. The other husbands died because they married, not for love, but for greed of gold. They were hard-hearted, scorning the poor and the weak. You shall live to help others to live and to prosper. Farewell!" and in a second the angel was seen no more.

Joseph continued to be charitable and kind to all who needed his help. Whenever the people saw him they were wont to exclaim: "Truly charity delivers from death."

When they came before the famous master, Abraham, with tears in his eyes, said,—

"O good Rabbi! My dear wife has been faithful to me and loving during the past ten years. It has pleased our Heavenly Father to withhold from us the blessing of children. I fear this is on account of my many sins. It seems to me that our home henceforth will not be as happy as it should be; my wife grieves over her barrenness and I fret because she is unhappy. Is it not my duty to set her free?"

Whilst Abraham was speaking, his wife wept. She knew that if he sent her away from his heart and home, her life would be utterly miserable and unendurable. Her genuine sorrow touched the heart of her husband, who turned to her and exclaimed,—

"My dear and sweet wife! be calm and do not grieve, for we must ever submit to the will of Providence. Do not think that I am not ofttimes sad, because we have no child to cheer your long days. If I could only give you some substitute, I would most gladly do so. Listen, dearest! I now faithfully promise to allow you to choose whatever you like best in our home and you may take it with you to your father's house as a keepsake when you leave me for good. This will always be a visible token of the deep affection and true love which united us during the past ten years."

The Rabbi watched his guests with sympathetic eyes. He knew that Abraham had made up his mind to divorce his worthy wife. Nothing would make him waver. With a merry twinkle in his far-seeing eye, he began to address them, saying,—

"My dear children! I can only pity you, for I am deeply grieved to see how you are about to lose one another. Before you finally part, however, let me advise you to invite this day your good friends to a farewell banquet, even as they gathered around you ten years ago at your marriage feast. Love united you and in love prepare to separate, if it must be."

The wise master was in hopes that all the old ties would be revived by the presence of the family circle of friends and that love would still hold them together. Abraham and Ada promised to follow the advice of the Rabbi and they returned home.

Ada at once sent to all their friends and provided a most liberal banquet. Her husband sat beside her as usual, and she took care that his wine-glass was constantly refilled. Good cheer made the company very happy, and Abraham determined to spend a jolly evening for the last time in the company of his wife, whom he really loved.

Ada had carefully prepared her plans. Her husband had toasted each of his guests, and soon the excellent wine which he drank sent him into a deep sleep. Without a moment's delay, Ada beckoned to her servants to come to her. She told them to lift up the armchair in which her husband sat asleep and to carry it at once to her father's house in a neighbouring street. The company looked on in surprise, and guessing the meaning of what they saw, they took their departure.

Meanwhile Abraham, fast asleep, had been carried to his new quarters. He was put in a beautiful room, with Ada at his side waiting for him to awaken. At dawn the effect of the wine began to wear off and he awoke. Looking around with great surprise, he exclaimed,—

"Where am I?"

Ada took his hand and stroking it gently, she said to him,—

"My beloved! you are in my father's house."

"What am I doing here?" he cries.

"You are just waking up," she says; "you remember when we yesterday visited Rabbi Simeon, the son of Jochai, you faithfully promised me that I might choose anything I liked best in our home and take it with me when I left your roof. Last night I left your house and I took you with me as there was nothing in your home, or, for the matter of that, in all the world so precious to me as your dear self. You were the choicest possession in our old home, and you are mine now and for ever. You have, by your promise to me, given yourself over to me. Divorce or no divorce, you are my property, for I know very well you always keep your promise."

Abraham saw the humour of the situation in which he found himself, and laughed again and again at the huge joke his clever wife had perpetrated at his expense.

"Well done," he exclaimed, "we are now agreed that the question of divorce is solved. Once again are we united and this time for ever. Nothing shall part us as long as we live."

Like all good people they lived a very happy life. In time a son was born and later on a daughter was given to them, and they all rejoiced in one another's happiness.

Once upon a time there was a really pious man who was ever ready to assist all who needed his help. Prosperity and happiness smiled upon him. Year in and year out all went well with him and his dear ones. All of a sudden a change took place. The business which he carried on proved to be gradually showing a loss instead of the former profit. Trade began to dwindle, the regular customers died or moved away. Bad debts increased and eventually the entire fortune of the good man was lost. In order to provide for the daily needs of his wife and children he worked in the fields as a labourer paid by the day. The day's work was long and hard, but a good heart and a willing spirit enabled him to overcome all difficulties. He even spared a coin of his wages to help those in a worse plight than he found himself.

Now it happened one day whilst he was engaged in ploughing a field that a stranger approached and greeted him, saying,—

"Peace be to thee and to all thy house."

He replied,—

"Peace be also to thee and thine."

The stranger then continued,—

"Friend, I come to tell thee that thou art destined to regain thy fortune and to live in affluence for a period of six years during thy life here on earth. It is thine to choose when this period shall begin; shall it be now or later in life?"

Astonished at the strange words which he had heard, the labourer looked at his companion to see if he was dreaming.

"Good stranger," he cried, "art thou a prophet or a magician that thou speakest in this wise? I fear thou art a poor man even as I am. Go thy way in peace, for I cannot help thee to-day, for I am penniless at the moment. I should be happy to give thee a fee for thy happy forecast, but I cannot give what I have not got. Go in peace and may Heaven send thee help."

The stranger went away and the labourer resumed his work without thinking any more of the strange conversation which he had just had. After a short interval the stranger returned and repeated the offer, only to be refused. When, however, for the third time he urged the unwilling labourer to accept his gift by believing in the proffered promise, the poor toiler, weary of his hard daily struggle in the fields, at last consented to consult his wife before coming to a decision. A glimmer of hope in the possibility of the promise had arisen in his heart.

"Perhaps, after all," he thought, "kind Providence has sent this messenger to help me in my dire distress and that now the poverty which has harassed me and my dear ones will be replaced by wealth and prosperity."

He ran home as quickly as his legs would carry him and told his wife all that had transpired. He emphasized the insistence displayed by the stranger. He said to his wife,—

"Assuming that the stranger is speaking the truth and that I am to be rich for a period of six years, when do you advise me to choose our time of prosperity—now or later in life?"

After a moment's consideration she cried,—

"Now, now."

Her husband returned to the field without further delay and found the stranger awaiting his decision. When the labourer told him his wish to enjoy there and then the promised wealth and prosperity, the stranger opened his purse and took out two pieces of silver.

"Here, my friend," he said, "take these two coins and return them to me six years hence when I shall call on thee. Do not forget I shall require my money to be restored to me when I come to demand it."

After the labourer had taken the coins he thanked his benefactor and promised to return the gift as arranged. In a second the stranger had disappeared; no trace of the direction he had taken was discerned by the labourer, who also recalled the fact that the stranger had come upon him all of a sudden.

"Very strange," he said; "there is some mystery about this stranger, he seems to come from nowhere and to return to the same place."

No sooner had the labourer placed the silver coins in his pocket than he perceived a sudden change coming over him. He no longer felt the same man. His poverty and sorrow fled away from him and a new feeling of contentment and security arose in his heart. He bowed his head in gratitude and thanked God for His manifold mercies.

Meanwhile, wonderful events were occurring in his home. His eldest son was turning the soil in the garden at the back of their house, when he saw gold glittering in the sunlight. He dug deeper and deeper and continued to find the precious metal; in fact there was evidently a treasure which had been lying hidden there all the years of their poverty. The young man cried aloud in his joy. His mother and her other sons came to see what was amiss. As soon as she saw what was happening she sent her youngest son to his father. She said,—

"Do not fail to tell him that God has given us back our fortune."

Before the door of their house, however, stood the father. In a moment he was with his wife and children, and uniting with them gave thanks to Him who giveth and taketh away.

The pious man and his virtuous wife resolved to make good use of their wealth as long as it was entrusted to their care. They were very happy because they were now in a position to help the poor who so sorely needed their assistance. The wife said to her good husband,—

"My dear, we must not forget that our prosperity will not last for ever. We are to be rich for six years only. Let us during this period feed the hungry, clothe the naked, and assist the needy. We shall always have the satisfaction of knowing that we made other people happy during the years of our good fortune. We shall be happy in realizing that we have made good use of our trust."

"Verily," he said, "the law of kindness is on thy tongue."

Not a day passed without an occasion offering itself to these good people to bestow their wealth upon those less fortunate than themselves. They did not fail in seizing every opportunity of doing an act of charity and kindness. The youngest son was told by his mother to keep an account of their own expenses and also an account of the money given in alms.

The six years passed like a dream. One day the expected benefactor came to their house, and after receiving a warm welcome turned to his host and said,—

"The six years have passed and I have come to ask thee to return my money."

The pious man exclaimed,—

"Dear friend! Thy demand is quite fair and just. Yet, stay! I accepted thy gift only after I had consulted my wife, and now before I repay my debt, I must again ask her advice."

Whereupon he turned to his wife who was present and said to her,—

"Beloved wife! please advise me how am I to repay our debt to our generous benefactor here?"

"Let me," she cried, "settle accounts with him." Turning to him she said, "I will show thee how we have spent the fortune entrusted to our care through thy kindness. Behold the account books."

The kind stranger looked with deep interest at the long lists recording the money spent in charity.

"You have, indeed," he cried, "spent plenty of money."

"But, good sir!" she added, "if thou dost believe for a moment that thy money might be entrusted to better guardians, take away then thy gift. If, on the other hand, thou art satisfied with the manner in which we have used the wealth placed in our care, then let us continue to hold our trust."

Thereupon the stranger, who was Elijah the prophet, blessed the good couple and bade them enjoy the wealth they knew so well how to use. In a moment the prophet had departed and the happy couple kept his coins and bequeathed them to their eldest son as a family heirloom.

One fine day a raven found a nice piece of fresh cheese, which he carried away to a favourite resting place on the leafy branch of a beautiful fig-tree. Believing himself to be out of harm's way, he was about to eat and enjoy his booty, when he heard a well-known voice softly calling to him,—

"Good day, dear friend Raven."

Whence did the voice come? Lo and behold, at the foot of the fig-tree stood Master Fox, eyeing with a greedy look the raven and the cheese. How to obtain the latter was the thought uppermost in the mind of the crafty fox.

Being unable to climb the tree, he resolved to trick the raven so as to make him drop the cheese. Again Master Fox cried,—

"Good day, dear friend Raven, thou art verily the most beautiful of birds. If all the winged creatures beneath the heavens were gathered around thee, thou wouldst easily excel them all by reason of thy lovely feathers. Moreover, if thou wouldst only sing then would thy song surpass the sweetest melody of any other of thy winged companions and thou wouldst become King of the birds."

The sweet words sank deeply into the raven's heart and he rejoiced at the prospect of attaining to such undreamt-of greatness. All that he had to do was merely to sing.

Excited with joy and pride he quickly opened his mouth and raising his voice, he tried to sing. Alas! he only croaked; meanwhile the cheese fell from his mouth to the ground. The greedy fox pounced upon the prey and with a joyful cry he said,—

"Dear friend Raven, never again will I listen to the voice of other sweet singers after hearing thy beautiful voice. Pray excuse me, if I hasten away to finish the cheese thou hast so generously given me as a reward for my flattery. Great indeed must be the power of pride since it overcomes the desires of thy appetite."