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_.