The Book of Delight and Other Papers

I >> Israel Abrahams >> The Book of Delight and Other Papers

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16

THE STORY OF TOBIT

Here, in the days of the saints of old, in the concourse of elders of age
untold, there lived a man upright and true, in all his doings good
fortune he knew. Rich was he and great, his eyes looked ever straight:
Tobiah, the son of Ahiah, a man of Dan, helped the poor, to each gave of
his store; whene'er one friendless died, the shroud he supplied, bore the
corpse to the grave, nor thought his money to save. The men of the place,
a sin-ruled race, slandering, cried, "O King, these Jewish knaves open
our graves! Our bones they burn, into charms to turn, health to earn."
The king angrily spoke: "I will weighten their yoke, and their villainy
repay; all the Jews who, from to-day, die in this town, to the pit take
down, to the pit hurry all, without burial. Who buries a Jew, the hour
shall rue; bitter his pang, on the gallows shall he hang." Soon a
sojourner did die, and no friends were by; but good Tobiah the corpse did
lave, and dress it for the grave. Some sinners saw the deed, to the judge
the word they gave, who Tobiah's death decreed. Forth the saint they
draw, to hang him as by law. But now they near the tree, lo! no man can
see, a blindness falls on all, and Tobiah flies their thrall. Many
friends his loss do weep, but homewards he doth creep, God's mercies to
narrate, and his own surprising fate, "Praise ye the Lord, dear friends,
for His mercy never ends, and to His servants good intends." Fear the
king distressed, his heart beat at his breast, new decrees his fear
expressed. "Whoe'er a Jew shall harm," the king cried in alarm, "touching
his person or personalty, touches the apple of my eye; let no man do this
wrong, or I'll hang him 'mid the throng, high though his rank, and his
lineage long." And well he kept his word, he punished those who erred;
but on the Jews his mercies shone, the while he rilled the throne.

Once lay the saint at rest, and glanced upon the nest of a bird within
his room. Ah! cruel was his doom! Into his eye there went the sparrow's
excrement. Tobiah's sight was gone! He had an only son, whom thus he now
addressed: "When business ventures pressed, I passed from clime to clime.
Well I recall the time, when long I dwelt in Ind, of wealth full stores
to find. But perilous was the road, and entrusted I my load with one of
honest fame, Peer Hazeman his name. And now list, beloved son, go out and
hire thee one, thy steps forthwith to guide unto my old friend's side. I
know his love's full stream, his trust he will redeem; when heareth he my
plight, when seeth he thy sight, then will he do the right." The youth
found whom he sought, a man by travel taught, the ways of Ind he knew; he
knew them through and through, he knew them up and down, as a townsman
knows his town. He brought him to his sire, who straightway did inquire,
"Knowest thou an Indian spot, a city named Tobot?"--"Full well I know the
place, I spent a two years' space in various enterprise; its people all
are wise, and honest men and true."--"What must I give to you," asked
Tobiah of his guest," to take my son in quest?"--"Of pieces pure of
gold, full fifty must be told."--"I'll pay you that with joy; start forth
now with my boy." A script the son did write, which Tobiah did indite,
and on his son bestow a sign his friend would know. The father kissed his
son, "In peace," said he, "get gone; may God my life maintain till thou
art come again." The youth and guide to Tobot hied, and reached anon Peer
Hazeman. "Why askest thou my name?" Straight the answer came, "Tobiah is
my sire, and he doth inquire of thy health and thy household's." Then the
letter he unfolds. The contents Peer espies, every doubt flies, he
regards the token with no word spoken. "'Tis the son of my friend, who
greeting thus doth send. Is it well with him? Say."--"Well, well with him
alway."--"Then dwell thou here a while, and hours sweet beguile with the
tales which thou wilt tell of him I loved so well."--"Nay, I must
forthwith part to soothe my father's heart. I am his only trust, return
at once I must." Peer Hazeman agrees the lad to release; gives him all
his father's loan, and gifts adds of his own, raiment and two slaves. To
music's pleasant staves, the son doth homeward wend. By the shore of the
sea went the lad full of glee, and the wind blew a blast, and a fish was
upward cast. Then hastened the guide to ope the fish's side, took the
liver and the gall, for cure of evil's thrall: liver to give demons
flight, gall to restore men's sight. The youth begged his friend these
specifics to lend, then went he on his way to where his sick sire lay.
Then spake the youth to his father all the truth. "Send not away the
guide without pay." The son sought the man, through the city he ran, but
the man had disappeared. Said Tobiah, "Be not afeared, 'twas Elijah the
seer, whom God sent here to stand by our side, our needs to provide." He
bathed both his eyes with the gall of the prize, and his sight was
restored by the grace of the Lord.

Then said he to his son, "Now God His grace has shown, dost thou not
yearn to do a deed in turn? My niece forthwith wed."--"But her husbands
three are dead, each gave up his life as each made her his wife; to her
shame and to her sorrow, they survived not to the morrow."--"Nay, a demon
is the doer of this harm to every wooer. My son, obey my wish, take the
liver of the fish, and burn it in full fume, at the door of her
room,'twill give the demon his doom." At his father's command, with his
life in his hand, the youth sought the maid, and wedded her unafraid. For
long timid hours his prayer Tobiah pours; but the incense was alight, the
demon took to flight, and safe was all the night. Long and happily wed,
their lives sweetly sped.

Their entertainer tells Joseph and Enan another story of piety connected
with the burial of the dead:

THE PARALYTICS TOUCHSTONE OF VIRTUE

Once upon a time there lived a saintly man, whose abode was on the way to
the graveyard. Every funeral passed his door, and he would ever rise and
join in the procession, and assist those engaged in the burial. In his
old age his feet were paralyzed, and he could not leave his bed; the dead
passed his doors, and he sighed that he could not rise to display his
wonted respect. Then prayed he to the Lord: "O Lord, who givest eyes to
the blind and feet to the lame, hear me from the corner of my sorrowful
bed. Grant that when a pious man is borne to his grave, I may be able to
rise to my feet." An angel's voice in a vision answered him, "Lo, thy
prayer is heard." And so, whenever a pious man was buried, he rose and
prayed for his soul. On a day, there died one who had grown old in the
world's repute, a man of excellent piety, yet the lame man could not rise
as his funeral passed. Next day died a quarrelsome fellow of ill fame for
his notorious sins, and when his body was carried past the lame man's
door, the paralytic was able to stand. Every one was amazed, for hitherto
the lame man's rising or resting had been a gauge of the departed's
virtue. Two sage men resolved to get to the bottom of the mystery. They
interviewed the wife of the fellow who had died second. The wife
confirmed the worst account of him, but added: "He had an old father,
aged one hundred years, and he honored and served him. Every day he
kissed his hand, gave him drink, stripped and dressed him when, from old
age, he could not turn himself on his couch; daily he brought ox and lamb
bones, from which he drew the marrow, and made dainty foods of it." And
the people knew that honoring his father had atoned for his
transgressions. Then the two inquisitors went to the house of the pious
man, before whom the paralytic had been unable to rise. His widow gave
him an excellent character; he was gentle and pious; prayed three times a
day, and at midnight rose and went to a special chamber to say his
prayers. No one had ever seen the room but himself, as he ever kept the
key in his bosom. The two inquisitors opened the door of this chamber,
and found a small box hidden in the window-sill; they opened the box, and
found in it a golden figure bearing a crucifix. Thus the man had been one
of those who do the deeds of Zimri, and expect the reward of Phineas.

TABLE TALK

Joseph and Enan then retire to rest, and their sleep is sweet and long. By
strange and devious ways they continue their journey on the morrow,
starting at dawn. Again they pass the night at the house of one of Enan's
friends, Rabbi Judah, a ripe old sage and hospitable, who welcomes them
cordially, feeds them bountifully, gives them spiced dishes, wine of the
grape and the pomegranate, and then tells stories and proverbs "from the
books of the Arabs."

A man said to a sage, "Thou braggest of thy wisdom, but it came from me."
"Yes," replied the sage, "and it forgot its way back."--Who is the worst
of men? He who is good in his own esteem.--Said a king to a sage, "Sweet
would be a king's reign if it lasted forever." "Had such been your
predecessor's lot," replied the wise man, "how would you have reached the
throne?"--A man laid a complaint before the king; the latter drove the
suppliant out with violence. "I entered with one complaint," sighed the
man, "I leave with two."--What is style? Be brief and do not repeat
yourself.--The king once visited a nobleman's house, and asked the
latter's son, "Whose house is better, your father's or mine?" "My
father's," said the boy, "while the king is in it."--A king put on a new
robe, which did not become him. "It is not good to wear," said a
courtier, "but it is good to put on." The king put the robe on him.--A
bore visited a sick man. "What ails thee?" he asked. "Thy presence," said
the sufferer.--A man of high lineage abused a wise man of lowly birth.
"My lineage is a blot on me," retorted a sage, "thou art a blot on thy
lineage."--To another who reviled him for his lack of noble ancestry, he
retorted, "Thy noble line ends with thee, with me mine begins."--Diogenes
and Dives were attacked by robbers. "Woe is me," said Dives, "if they
recognize me." "Woe is me," said Diogenes, "if they do not recognize
me."--A philosopher sat by the target at which the archers were shooting.
"'Tis the safest spot," said he.--An Arab's brother died. "Why did he
die?" one asked. "Because he lived," was the answer.--"What hast thou
laid up for the cold weather?" they asked a poor fellow. "Shivering," he
answered.--Death is the dread of the rich and the hope of the
poor.--Which is the best of the beasts? Woman.--Hide thy virtues as thou
hidest thy faults.--A dwarf brought a complaint to his king. "No one,"
said the king, "would hurt such a pigmy." "But," retorted the dwarf, "my
injurer is smaller than I am."--A dolt sat on a stone. "Lo, a blockhead
on a block," said the passers-by.--"What prayer make you by night?" they
asked a sage. "Fear God by day, and by night you will sleep, not
pray."--Rather a wise enemy than a foolish friend.--Not everyone who
flees escapes, not everyone who begs has need.--A sage had weak eyes.
"Heal them," said they. "To see what?" he rejoined.--A fool quarrelled
with a sage. Said the former, "For every word of abuse I hear from thee,
I will retort ten." "Nay," replied the other, "for every ten words of
abuse I hear from thee, I will not retort one."--An honest man cannot
catch a thief.--All things grow with time except grief.--The character of
the sent tells the character of the sender.--What is man's best means of
concealment? Speech.--"Why walkest thou so slowly?" asked the lad of the
greybeard. "My years are a chain to my feet: and thy years are preparing
thy chain."--Do not swallow poison because you know an antidote.--The
king heard a woman at prayer. "O God," she said, "remove this king from
us." "And put a better in his stead," added the eavesdropping
monarch.--Take measure for this life as though thou wilt live forever;
prepare for the next world as though thou diest to-morrow.--"He will
die," said the doctor, but the patient recovered. "You have returned from
the other world," said the doctor when he met the man. "Yes," said the
latter, "and the doctors have a bad time there. But fear not. Thou art no
doctor."--Three things weary: a lamp that will not burn, a messenger that
dawdles, a table spread and waiting.

Then follows a string of sayings about _threes_:

Reason rules the body, wisdom is the pilot, law is its light. Might is
the lion's, burdens are the ox's, wisdom is man's; spinning the spider's,
building the bee's, making stores the ant's. In three cases lying is
permissible: in war, in reconciling man to man, in appeasing one's wife.

Their host concludes his lengthy list of sententious remarks thus:

A king had a signet ring, on which were engraved the words, "Thou hast
bored me: rise!" and when a guest stayed too long, he showed the visitor
the ring.-The heir of a wealthy man squandered his money, and a sage saw
him eating bread and salted olives. "Hadst thou thought that this would
be thy food, this would not be thy food."-Marry no widow. She will lament
her first husband's death.

THE CITY OF ENAN

This was the signal for the party to retire to rest.

Next day the wayfarers reach Enan's own city, the place he had all along
desired Joseph to see. He shows Joseph his house; but the latter replies,
"I crave food, not sight-seeing." "Surely," says Enan, "the more hurry the
less speed." At last the table is spread; the cloth is ragged, the dishes
contain unleavened bread, such as there is no pleasure in eating, and there
is a dish of herbs and vinegar. Then ensues a long wrangle, displaying much
medical knowledge, on the physiology of herbs and vegetables, on the eating
of flesh, much and fast. Enan makes sarcastic remarks on Joseph's rapacious
appetite. He tells Joseph, he must not eat this or that. A joint of lamb is
brought on the table, Enan says the head is bad, and the feet, and the
flesh, and the fat; so that Joseph has no alternative but to eat it all. "I
fear that what happened to the king, will befall thee," said Enan. "Let me
feed first," said Joseph; "then you can tell me what happened to the king."

THE PRINCESS AND THE ROSE

A gardener came to his garden in the winter. It was the month of Tebet,
and he found some roses in flower. He rejoiced at seeing them; and he
plucked them, and put them on a precious dish, carried them to the king,
and placed them before him. The king was surprised, and the flowers were
goodly in his sight; and he gave the gardener one hundred pieces of gold.
Then said the king in his heart, "To-day we will make merry, and have a
feast." All his servants and faithful ministers were invited to rejoice
over the joy of the roses. And he sent for his only daughter, then with
child; and she stretched forth her hand to take a rose, and a serpent
that lay in the dish leapt at her and startled her, and she died before
night.

QUESTION AND ANSWER

But Joseph's appetite was not to be stayed by such tales as this. So Enan
tells him of the "Lean Fox and the Hole"; but in vain. "Open not thy mouth
to Satan," says Joseph. "I fear for my appetite, that it become smaller";
and goes on eating.

Now Enan tries another tack: he will question him, and put him through his
paces. But Joseph yawns and protests that he has eaten too much to keep his
eyes open.

"How canst thou sleep," said Enan, "when thou hast eaten everything,
fresh and stale? As I live, thou shalt not seek thy bed until I test thy
wisdom-until I prove whether all this provender has entered the stomach
of a wise man or a fool."

Then follows an extraordinary string of anatomical, medical, scientific,
and Talmudic questions about the optic nerves; the teeth; why a man lowers
his head when thinking over things he has never known, but raises his head
when thinking over what he once knew but has forgotten; the physiology of
the digestive organs, the physiology of laughter; why a boy eats more than
a man; why it is harder to ascend a hill than to go down; why snow is
white; why babies have no teeth; why children's first set of teeth fall
out; why saddest tears are saltest; why sea water is heavier than fresh;
why hail descends in summer; why the sages said that bastards are mostly
clever. To these questions, which Enan pours out in a stream, Joseph
readily gives answers. But now Enan is hoist with his own petard.

"I looked at him," continues the poet, "and sleep entrapped his eyes, and
his eyelids kissed the irides. Ah! I laughed in my heart. Now I will talk
to him, and puzzle him as he has been puzzling me. He shall not sleep, as
he would not let me sleep. 'My lord,' said I, 'let me now question thee.'
'I am sleepy,' said he, 'but ask on.' 'What subject shall I choose?' I
said. 'Any subject,' he replied; 'of all knowledge I know the half.'"
Joseph asks him astronomical, musical, logical, arithmetical questions;
to all of which Enan replies, "I do not know." "But," protests Joseph,
"how couldst thou assert that thou knewest half of every subject, when it
is clear thou knowest nothing?" "Exactly," says Enan, "for Aristotle
says, 'He who says, I do not know, has already attained the half of
knowledge.'"

But he says he knows medicine; so Joseph proceeds to question him. Soon he
discovers that Enan is again deceiving him; and he abuses Enan roundly for
his duplicity.

Enan at length is moved to retort.

"I wonder at thy learning," says Enan, "but more at thy appetite." Then
the lamp goes out, the servant falls asleep, and they are left in
darkness till the morning. Then Joseph demands his breakfast, and goes
out to see his ass. The ass attempts to bite Joseph, who strikes it, and
the ass speaks. "I am one of the family of Balaam's ass," says the
animal. "But I am not Balaam," says Joseph, "to divine that thou hast
eaten nothing all night." The servant asserts that he fed the ass, but
the animal had gobbled up everything, his appetite being equal to his
owner's. But Joseph will not believe this, and Enan is deeply hurt.
"Peace!" he shouts, and his eyes shoot flames, and his nostrils distil
smoke. "Peace, cease thy folly, or, as I live, and my ancestor Asmodeus,
I will seize thee with my little finger, and will show thee the city of
David."

In timid tones Joseph asks him, "Who is this Asmodeus, thy kinsman?"

ENAN REVEALS HIMSELF

"Asmodeus," said Enan, "the great prince who, on his wing, bore Solomon
from his kingdom to a distant strand." "Woe is me," I moaned, "I thought
thee a friend; now thou art a fiend. Why didst thou hide thy nature? Why
didst thou conceal thy descent? Why hast thou taken me from my home in
guile?" "Nay," said Enan, "where was thy understanding? I gave thee my
name, thou shouldst have inverted it" [i.e., transpose _Desh_ to _Shed_.
Enan at the beginning of the tale had announced himself as _ha-Desh_, he
now explains that meant _ha-Shed_ = the demon]. Then Enan gives his
pedigree: "I am Enan, the Satan, son of Arnan the Demon, son of the Place
of Death, son of Rage, son of Death's Shadow, son of Terror, son of
Trembling, son of Destruction, son of Extinction, son of Evil-name, son
of Mocking, son of Plague, son of Deceit, son of Injury, son of
Asmodeus."

Nevertheless Enan quiets Joseph's fears, and promises that no harm shall
befall him. He goes through Enan's city, sees wizards and sorcerers, and
sinners and fools, all giants.

ENAN'S FRIEND AND HIS DAUGHTER

Then Enan introduces his own especial friend. "He is good and wise," said
Enan, "despite his tall stature. He shows his goodness in hating the wise
and loving fools; he is generous, for he will give a beggar a crust of
dry bread, and make him pay for it; he knows medicine, for he can tell
that if a man is buried, he either has been sick, or has had an accident;
he knows astronomy, for he can tell that it is day when the sun shines,
and night when the stars appear; he knows arithmetic, for he can tell
that one and one make two; he knows mensuration, for he can tell how many
handbreadths his belly measures; he knows music, for he can tell the
difference between the barking of a dog and the braying of an ass." "But,
said I," continues Joseph, "how canst thou be the friend of such a one?
Accursed is he, accursed his master." "Nay," answered Enan, "I love him
not; I know his vile nature: 'tis his daughter that binds me to him, for
she, with her raven locks and dove's eyes and lily cheeks, is fair beyond
my power to praise." Yet I warned him against marrying the daughter of an
uneducated man, an Am ha-Arez. Then follows a compilation of passages
directed against ignorance. "Ah!" cries Enan, "your warning moves me. My
love for her is fled. Thou fearest God and lovest me, my friend. What is
a friend? One heart in two bodies. Then find me another wife, one who is
beautiful and good. Worse than a plague is a bad woman. Listen to what
once befell me with such a one."

Thereupon Enan introduces the last of the stories incorporated into the
book:

THE WASHERWOMAN WHO DID THE DEVIL'S WORK

Once upon a time, in my wanderings to and fro upon the earth, I came to a
city whose inhabitants dwelt together, happy, prosperous, and secure. I
made myself well acquainted with the place and the people, but, despite
all my efforts, I was unable to entrap a single one. "This is no place
for me," I said, "I had better return to my own country." I left the
city, and, journeying on, came across a river, at the brink of which I
seated myself. Scarcely had I done so, when a woman appeared bearing her
garments to be washed in the river. She looked at me, and asked, "Art
thou of the children of men or of demons?" "Well," said I, "I have grown
up among men, but I was born among demons." "But what art thou after
here?" "Ah," I replied, "I have spent a whole month in yonder city. And
what have I found? A city full of friends, enjoying every happiness in
common. In vain have I tried to put a little of wickedness among them."
Then the woman, with a supercilious air: "If I am to take thee for a
specimen, I must have a very poor opinion of the whole tribe of demons.
You seem mighty enough, but you haven't the strength of women. Stop here
and keep an eye on the wash; but mind, play me no tricks. I will go back
to the city and kindle therein fire and fury, and pour over it a spirit
of mischief, and thou shalt see how I can manage things." "Agreed!" said
I, "I will stay here and await thy coming, and watch how affairs turn out
in thy hands."

The washerwoman departed, went into the city, called upon one of the
great families there residing, and requested to see the lady of the
house. She asked for a washing order, which she promised to execute to
the most perfect satisfaction. While the housemaid was collecting the
linen, the washerwoman lifted her eyes to the beautiful face of the
mistress, and exclaimed: "Yes, they are a dreadful lot, the men; they are
all alike, a malediction on them! The best of them is not to be trusted.
They love all women but their own wives." "What dost thou mean?" asked
the lady. "Merely this," she answered. "Coming hither from my house, whom
should I meet but thy husband making love to another woman, and such a
hideous creature, too! How he could forsake beauty so rare and exquisite
as thine for such disgusting ugliness, passes my understanding. But do
not weep, dear lady, don't distress thyself and give way. I know a means
by which I shall bring that husband of thine to his senses, so that thou
shalt suffer no reproach, and he shall never love any other woman than
thee. This is what thou must do. When thy husband comes home, speak
softly and sweetly to him; let him suspect nothing; and when he has
fallen asleep, take a sharp razor and cut off three hairs from his beard;
black or white hairs, it matters not. These thou must afterwards give to
me, and with them I will compound such a remedy that his eyes shall be
darkened in their sockets, so that he will look no more upon other lovely
women, but cling to thee alone in mighty and manifest and enduring love."
All this the lady promised, and gifts besides for the washerwoman, should
her plan prosper.

Carrying the garments with her, the woman now sought out the lady's
husband. With every sign of distress in her voice and manner, she told
him that she had a frightful secret to divulge to him. She knew not if
she would have the strength to do so. She would rather die first The
husband was all the more eager to know, and would not be refused. "Well,
then," she said, "I have just been to thy house, where my lady, thy wife,
gave me these garments to wash; and, while I was yet standing there, a
youth, of handsome mien and nobly attired, arrived, and the two withdrew
into an adjoining room: so I inclined mine ear to listen to their speech,
and this is what I overheard: The young man said to thy wife, 'Kill thy
husband, and I will marry thee,' She, however, declared that she was
afraid to do such a dreadful deed. 'O,' answered he, 'with a little
courage it is quite easy. When thy husband is asleep, take a sharp razor
and cut his throat.'" In fierce rage, but suppressing all outward
indication of it, the husband returned home. Pretending to fall asleep,
he watched his wife closely, saw her take a razor to sever the three
hairs for the washerwoman's spell, darted up suddenly, wrested the razor
from her hands, and with it slew his wife on the spot.

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16