"Once upon a time there lived a rich man who had three sons: two of them
were wise, while one was a fool. After his death the brothers proceeded
to divide the property, which consisted mainly of cattle. The two wise
brothers suggested that the herd be divided into three equal parts, and
that lots be cast for each; but the fool insisted that corrals be built
near the house of each and that each be allowed to keep the cattle that
would stray into his corral. The wise brothers agreed to this, and to
entice the oxen and cows they placed fresh hay in their enclosures; but
the fool did not take measures to gain possession of cattle by unfair
means. The animals were attracted by the odor of the new-mown hay, and
only one calf strolled into the fool's enclosure. The fool kept his calf
for eight days, and forgot to give it fodder during that time; so it
died. He took off its hide, and placed it in the sun to get dry. There
it lay until it shrivelled up. Then he took the hide to Warsaw to sell
it, but no one wanted to buy it, for it was all dried up.
"He started for home and came to an inn where he wanted to stay over
night. He found there twelve men eating, and drinking good wine. He
asked the landlady whether he could stay there over night. She told him
she would not keep him in the house for all the money in the world, and
she asked him to leave the house at once. He did not like her hasty
manner, and he hid himself behind the door where no one could see him.
There he overheard the landlady saying to the men: 'Before my husband
gets home you must go down in the cellar and hide behind the wine-casks.
In the night, when he will be asleep, you must come up and kill him.
Then I shall be satisfied with you!' After a short while her husband
returned from the distillery with some brandy, and the men hurried down
into the cellar. He unloaded the brandy-casks, and went into the house.
He asked his wife for something to eat; but she said there was nothing
in the house. Just then the fool stepped in and asked the innkeeper
whether he could not stay there over night. The landlady got angry at
him and said: 'I told you before that there was no bed here for you!'
But the innkeeper said: 'He will stay here over night!' and the
innkeeper's word was law. He told the fool to sit down at the table with
him, and they started a conversation. The fool accidentally placed his
hand on the hide, which being dry began to crackle. The innkeeper asked
him: 'What makes the hide crackle that way?' and the fool answered: 'It
is talking to me!' 'What does it say?' 'It says that you are hungry, and
that your wife says that there is nothing in the house, but that if you
will look into the oven you will find some dishes.' He went up to the
oven and found there enough for himself and the fool to eat. Then the
hide crackled again, and the innkeeper asked again: 'What does it say?'
'It says that you should start a big fire in the oven!' 'What is the
fire for?' 'I do not know, but you must obey the hide.' So he went and
made a big fire in the oven. Then the hide crackled again. Says he:
'What does the hide say now?' 'It tells to heat kettles of water.' When
the water got hot, the hide crackled again. Then he asked: 'What does
the hide say now?' 'It says that you should take some strong men with
you to the cellar and pour the water behind the wine-casks.' And so he
did. The robbers were all scalded, and they ran away. Then he came
upstairs, and the hide crackled again. Said he: 'Why does it crackle
now?' 'The twelve robbers wanted to kill you at night, because your wife
ordered them to do so.' When the wife heard that, she also ran away.
Then the innkeeper said: 'Sell me your hide!' The fool answered: 'It
costs much money.' 'No matter how much it costs, I shall pay for it, for
it has saved my life.' 'It costs one thousand roubles.' So he gave him
one thousand roubles. The fool went home, and when the brothers heard
that he had sold his hide for one thousand roubles, they killed all
their cattle, and took their hides to Warsaw to sell. They figured that
if their brother's calf brought one thousand roubles, the hides of their
oxen ought to fetch them at least two thousand roubles apiece. When they
asked two thousand roubles apiece, people laughed and offered them a
rouble for each. When they heard that, they went home and upbraided
their brother for having cheated them. But he insisted that he had
received one thousand roubles for his hide, and the brothers left him
alone.
"After a while the fool's wife died. The undertakers wanted one thousand
roubles for her interment. But the fool would not pay that sum. He
placed his wife in a wagon and took her to Warsaw. There he filled the
wagon with fine apples and put the dead body at the head of the wagon
all dressed up. He himself stood at some distance and watched what would
happen. There rode by a Polish count, and as he noticed the fine apples,
he sent his servant to buy some. The servant asked the woman several
times at what price she sold the apples; but as she did not answer him,
he hit her in the face. Then the fool ran up and cried, saying that they
had killed his wife. The count descended from his carriage, and when he
had convinced himself that the woman was really dead, he asked the fool
what he could do to satisfy him. The fool asked five thousand roubles,
and the count paid him. The fool paid the undertaker in Warsaw a few
roubles, and he buried his wife. He returned home and told his brothers
of his having received five thousand roubles for his dead wife. Upon
hearing that, they killed their wives and children and took the dead
bodies to Warsaw to sell. When they arrived in Warsaw, they were asked
what they had in their wagons. They said: 'Dead bodies for sale.' The
people began to laugh, and said that dead bodies had to be taken to the
cemetery. There was nothing left for the brothers to do but to take them
to the cemetery and have them buried.
"They wept bitterly, and swore that they would take revenge on their
brother. And so they did. When they arrived home, they told him that
they wished to make him a prince. They enticed him for that purpose into
a bag, and wanted to throw him into the water. They went away to find a
place where they could throw him in without being noticed. In the
meanwhile the fool kept on crying in the bag that he did not care to be
a prince, that he wished to get out of the bag. Just then a rich Polish
merchant drove by. When he heard the cries in the bag, he stepped down
from his carriage and asked the fool why he was crying so. He said: 'I
do not want to be a prince!' So he untied him and said: 'Let me get into
the bag and be made a prince! I shall make you a present of my horses
and my carriage, if you will let me be a prince.' The rich man crept
into the bag, and the fool tied it fast. He went into the carriage and
drove away. The brothers came, picked up the bag, and threw it into the
water. The fool watched their doings from a distance. The brothers were
sure they had drowned the fool and returned home. The next morning they
were astonished to see their brother driving around town in a fine
carriage. They asked him: 'Where did you get that?' He answered: 'In the
water.' 'Are there more of them left?' 'There are finer ones down
there.' So they went down to the water's edge, and they agreed that one
of them should leap in and see if there were any carriages left there,
and if he should find any, he was to make a noise in the water, when the
other one would follow him. One of them leaped in, and beginning to
drown, began to splash the water. The other, thinking his brother was
calling him, also jumped in, and they were both drowned. The fool became
the sole heir of all their property; he married again, and is now living
quite happily."
* * * * *
Corresponding to the diffusion of folklore among the Jews, their store
of popular beliefs, superstitions, and medicine is unlimited. Their
mysterious world is peopled with the imaginary beings of the Talmud, the
creatures of German mythology, and the creations of the Slavic popular
mind. These exist for them, however, not as separate entities, but as
transfused into an organic whole in which the belief of Babylonia and
Assyria has much of the outward form of the superstition of Russia, just
as the spirits of Poland and Germany are made to be brothers to those of
Chaldea and Egypt. To their minds the transmigrated souls of the
_Gilgulim_, the scoffing _Leezim_, the living dead bodies of the
_Meessim_, the possessing _Dibukim_, the grewsome _Scheedim_, are as
real as the _Riesen_ and _Schraetele_ of Germany and the _Nischtgute_
(niedobry), _Wukodlaki_ (werewolf), _Zlidne_, _Upior_ (vampyre), and
_Domowoj_ of Russia. The beast _Reem_ of the Talmud, the _Pipernātter_
(Lindwurm) of Germany are not less known to them than the fabled animals
of Russian fairy tales. In case of sickness they consult with equal
success the miracle-working Rabbi with his lore derived from Talmud and
Cabbala, as the Tartar medicine man (znachar), or get some old woman to
recite the ancient German formula for warding off the evil eye. There is
not an incident in their lives, from their births unto their deaths,
that is not accompanied by its own circle of superstitious rites and
practices.[35]
Their literature, both oral and printed, is also full of evidences of
that popular creative spirit which finds its expression in the form of
maxims and proverbs. One can hardly turn the pages of a novel or comedy
without finding some interesting specimens of this class. But little has
been done to classify them, or even to collect them. The printed
collections of Tendlau and Bernstein contain less than three thousand
proverbs, while the seven thousand saws on which Schwarzfeld bases his
generalizations in a Roumanian periodical (_Anuarul pentru Israeliţi_)
have not yet been published by him.[36]
Equally rich would prove the harvest of popular anecdotes, either as
told of separate individuals, as Herschele Ostropoler, Motke Chabad,
Jōssef Loksch, the wise man of Chelm, and the like, or as applied to the
inhabitants of certain Abderitic towns.[37] Many such collections are
mentioned in the appendix, but they do not by any means exhaust the
stories that are current among the people. Though they generally are of
the same character as those told of Schildburg and Till Eulenspiegel,
and are even borrowings from those German stories, yet they contain so
much original matter, and have been welded into such new forms, that
they deserve the attention of the student of folklore. They also bear
excellent witness to that pungent wit for which the Jews are so justly
famous.