Part 11

“Now it so happened that the farmer had a shrew for a wife, and, wishing to live in peace with her, allowed himself to be ruled by her in all domestic affairs. One day, while occupied in the farm-yard, he overheard a conversation between an ox and an ass, which amused him so much that he burst out laughing. At that moment his wife appeared, and insisted on being told the joke. He begged her not to press him to disclose a secret, on the keeping of which his very life depended. But she remained obdurate. Seeing that there was no way out of the difficulty, he told her that he would fulfil her desire in a few days, but that he had in the meantime to settle his worldly affairs, before going to meet his inevitable and premature death. To this she agreed. Next day, while again standing in the farm-yard, he heard his dog rebuking the cock for crowing as loudly as ever, though he was aware of his master's approaching death. But the cock said that since their master was a coward and a fool, he did not deserve to be pitied by anybody. ‘Let him,’ said the cock, ‘take a lesson from me, and his life will certainly be saved. There are in the farm-yard a number of hens, who all obey me implicitly, as they know very well that any case of disobedience on their part would be attended with a well-deserved punishment. Now, our master has only _one_ wife to deal with, and if he is idiotic enough to allow her to rule over him, he must bear the consequences.’

“When the farmer heard the cock's wise remarks he regained courage, and presently meeting his wife, he told her that he refused to let her know his secret, and that he was fully determined to be and to remain the ruler in his own house from that time forward. These words had the desired effect, and from that day forth he lived with his wife in harmony and undisturbed peace.”

_The Prince and the Dervish_ is also exceedingly rich in pithy maxims, of which the following may serve as examples. On the question of paying visits to one's friends, he says^[124-1]:—

Go not too frequently thy friends to see, Lest they grow weary of the sight of thee; When rain is scanty, then we pray for more, But love not one continuous downpour.

Another maxim is reminiscent of the Biblical saying “For man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart” (1 Sam. xvi. 7). It runs thus:—

Let not his humble vesture make thee blind To one whose greatness is a learnèd mind: For pearls may sometimes in the sand be found, And stores of gold lie buried in the ground^[125-1].

Humility of mind is thus spoken of^[125-2]:—

Be ever meek and humble, nor essay In path of pride and haughtiness to stray: The tempest spares the hyssop on the wall, But 'neath its wrath the proudest cedars fall.

The following lines must have been written when a dear friend was about to take leave of him. They run thus^[125-3]:—

Now that the time has come for us to part, I feel how much thy loss means to my heart; For when the sun sinks suddenly to rest, 'Tis then that darkness grows most manifest.

Of a more humorous nature are the following lines^[125-4] put in the form of questions and answers:—

_Question._ What is the most useful thing to any man in life?

_Answer._ Knowledge, or wealth, or a good and loving wife.

_Question._ But, if none of these commodities man has ever got?

_Answer._ Then by keeping golden silence he might improve his lot.

_Question._ And if he cannot do so, that poor and hapless knave?

_Answer._ Then let him go away at once, and dig himself a grave.

Apart from the literary value which _The Prince and the Dervish_ possesses, it has a special importance which recalls to mind that all its versions have been rendered by Jewish writers into different languages. This fact lends support to the theory that the Jews have always displayed a peculiar aptitude in the translation of books, and more especially from Arabic, Greek, and Latin, into the sacred tongue of the Bible. By this means they preserved to posterity many valuable literary works which might otherwise have remained unknown or even perished. Among the more prominent Jewish translators living in mediaeval times were, besides several members of the famous Tibbon family, Kalonymos ben Kalonymos, Moses di Rieti, Immanuel di Roma, Alcharizi, Judah Romano, Elias del Medigo, and last, but not least, Abraham Ibn Chasdai, the author of _The Prince and the Dervish_. It should also be observed that several learned Jewish linguists have, in more modern times, been greatly helpful, in a literary sense, to many of their less educated co-religionists by introducing to them in a Hebrew garb some of the best-known works of general literature, including Homer, Virgil, Horace, Shakespeare, Milton, Dante, Racine, Schiller, and Goethe. Thus it is interesting to note that the language of the Bible has, like the Bible itself, at all times rendered most valuable services to Jews as well as to those of other creeds.

Footnotes:

[117-1] Cp. Wolf, _Bibl. Hebr._, I, 57; Delitzsch, _Geschichte der jüd. Poesie_, p. 46; Steinschneider, _Manna_.

[117-2] Among these may specially be mentioned:

(_a_) ‪מאזני צדק‬, edited by Goldenthal in 1839, being a Hebrew translation of an Arabic work by Ghasali entitled ‪אל מיזאן‬.

(_b_) ‪ספר התפוח‬ and ‪סודות‬, which are Hebrew versions of two works composed respectively in Arabic and Greek.

[118-1] It was printed in Constantinople in 1518; in Mantua in 1557; in Wandsbeck in 1727; in Frankfurt a.d.O. and Frankfurt a.M. respectively in 1766 and 1769; in Zolkiew in 1771; in Fürth in 1769; in Lemberg in 1870; in Szitomir in 1873; and in Warsaw in 1884.

[118-2] The Latin translation exists as a MS. at the Nürnberg Library; it was done by Daniel Schwenter, having for its title _Proverbia filii regis Nazar._

[120-1] Cp. chap. 13. A similar story is contained in Bachya's _Choboth Ha-lebaboth_.

[123-1] Cp. chap. 24. The same story is contained in the universally known _Thousand and One Nights_.

[124-1] Cp. chap. 8.

[125-1] Cp. chap. 26.

[125-2] Cp. chap. 30.

[125-3] Cp. chap. 18.

[125-4] Cp. chap. 15.

XII

ISAAC ERTER

A MODERN HEBREW HUMORIST

Though Hebrew literature is commonly reckoned as one of the ancient literatures it has an advantage over them which is not inconsiderable. It is that while no other ancient literature can be said to have ever risen to any remarkable height of excellence after the close of its golden age, in the case of the Hebrew there were at least three noteworthy revivals after its first classical period had ended. The first occurred some time about the return of the ancient Hebrews from the Babylonian exile to Palestine; the second during the Middle Ages in Spain, France, and Italy; and the third in modern times in Galicia, a country which forms part of the Austrian empire. During the second half of the eighteenth century a small band of writers of Hebrew prose and poetry, who may be regarded as the founders of what is now termed the Galician school, flourished there. The foremost representative of the school was Isaac Erter.

He was born in the year 1792 in a small Galician village called Janischock. His father, a poor innkeeper, in spite of his indigence, did not neglect to have his son educated in Hebrew and Talmudical lore. When young Erter had made some progress in these studies, which, by the way, he only learnt mechanically and on no fixed plan, his father caused him to marry a Rabbi's daughter, who, however, died within the first year after their marriage. Old Erter, however, insisted upon his son marrying again; and the second marriage proved a very happy one, in spite of the difficulties which a married man with no definite means of subsistence is bound to encounter. Perhaps to relieve the monotony of his life he mixed with the members of a strange religious sect known by the name of “Chassidim.” Their chief characteristics were the hilarity and excitement of their lives, and their passionate devotion to their spiritual leader called “Rebbe.” Although these “Rebbes” are, as a rule, illiterate persons, they are nevertheless held in high esteem by their devotees, who credit them with the possession of supernatural powers, by means of which they are able to work miracles. But, after a time, Erter grew weary of this society and its absurd practices, and went to live at Lemberg, the capital of Galicia. There he soon became acquainted with several young men of talent and culture who interested themselves on his behalf, and procured him pupils whom he instructed in Hebrew and religious subjects. They also made him acquainted with the works of Maimonides and Mendelssohn, to the study of which he later on devoted many of his leisure hours. He here passed three happy years (from 1813 to 1816), and enjoyed the society and friendship of some genial spirits, among whom may particularly be mentioned Rapoport, afterwards Chief Rabbi of Prague, and Nachman Krochmal, the renowned Hebrew scholar and philosopher. Subsequently when Jacob Ornstein, the then Chief Rabbi of Lemberg, heard of the existence among his flock of a small and youthful band who occupied themselves with the study of secular subjects, he became alarmed, and forthwith excommunicated all the culprits. The immediate effect of this upon Erter was the loss of his pupils, and with them of his livelihood. He consequently decided to settle in the neighbouring town of Brody. On his arrival there he met with a hearty reception from the enlightened section of the Jewish community, and as a new Jewish school had just been inaugurated there he was entrusted with its management. After a short time, however, he resigned his position, and made up his mind to prepare himself for a more independent calling. With this object Erter left his grown-up family of daughters in charge of some friends and went to Buda-Pesth, at the university of which town he intended to prepare himself for the medical profession. He was then thirty-three years old, and had neither money nor friends to assist him, but after five years' hard study, accompanied by severe privations, he succeeded in passing all the necessary examinations, and took his degree, and soon after began to practise in the country. It so happened that at that time the cholera was raging, and as Erter displayed considerable skill in dealing with the epidemic, he drew upon himself the attention of the Austrian government, which entrusted him with the task of preparing certain essays, treating of the origin and spread of contagious diseases. Ultimately he returned to Brody, and continued to practise there, making himself especially popular among the poor, who found in him a kindly benefactor. His leisure time he devoted to his favourite occupation, the composition of Hebrew essays, or rather satires on Jewish subjects. He usually sent them to his literary friends to be read and criticized before allowing them to be printed in the current Hebrew periodicals. Among them he reckoned, in addition to Rapoport and Krochmal, Professor S. D. Luzzatto, Shalom Cohen (editor of the Hebrew periodical _Bikurey-Ha-Ittim_, and Dr. Letteris, the subsequent editor and publisher of Erter's collected writings under the title of ‪הצופה לבית ישראל‬^[129-1].

The last years of Erter's life were again visited by various trials, chiefly caused by the untimely death of his two married daughters, to whom he had been deeply attached. He did not, however, survive them long. He died in the year 1851.

From what has been said it will be seen that Erter's life was a hard one, and it is to this very circumstance that the existence of the excellent Hebrew satires contained in the _Zophe_ is due. His sad experiences during the early part of his married life, his association with the “Chassidim,” the treatment he had received at the hands of the Chief Rabbi of Lemberg, and, finally, the observations he had made in his capacity as a medical practitioner—all these, and many other things, are graphically described therein. His style is full of humour and sarcasm, and the book possesses the true mark of excellence, inasmuch as familiarity with it merely adds to its attractiveness. Erter also wrote some poetical pieces, but they bear no comparison with his masterly prose, which, as Graetz well says, has points of resemblance to that of Heine.

The titles of the satires in question are: 1. ‪מאזני משקל.‬ 2. ‪הצופה‬ ‎‪בשובו מקארלסבאד.‬ 3. ‪גלגול נפש.‬ 4. ‪תשליך.‬ 5. ‪תלונת סני וסנסני ‪וסמנגלוף.‬ 6. ‪חסידות וחכמה,‬ and each section treats of a different subject. It would be no easy task for any one to reproduce in English, or in any other language, the many beauties of form and style found in the original Hebrew of these satires. Equally difficult would it be to arrange them in order of merit, since each has a peculiar charm of its own. But the following free translation of some parts of the satire, entitled ‪גלגול נפש‬ (“Transmigration of the Soul”), may, perhaps, give the reader a faint idea of Erter's methods. It begins as follows:—

“I am a physician, and it is my duty to heal the wounds, and to procure a remedy for every disease of the body. It is true that those of my colleagues, who can boast of possessing high-sounding titles, look down upon me with a certain contempt, inasmuch as they think that they alone have a right to speak with authority of things they do not know much about. But I am, nevertheless, as well qualified a medical practitioner as they are, and my patients do not fare worse than theirs. The only difference between them and myself is, perhaps, to be found in the fact that they drive to their patients' houses in splendid carriages, while I visit mine on foot. For the more horses and carriages a physician has, the more knowledge and medical skill is attributed to him by the members of the Jewish faith. Moreover, these distinguished and betitled physicians, who are mostly employed by the wealthy classes of the community, are generally handsomely rewarded for their services, even when their patients die an untimely death, for among the rich even death is an expensive affair. But I, whose chief practice is carried on among the poor, am seldom rewarded for my services, and if any of them die, then his or her soul ‘goes out for nothing.’

“I once passed in front of the house in which one of my patients had died shortly before. He did not die quite suddenly, but had been ill for some time, and I was called in to prescribe for him. He happened to be well off, and after I had visited him once or twice, and he got no better, a great crowd of his female neighbours and relations came—for the rich are always surrounded by their relatives and pretended friends—and said compassionately: ‘This poor sufferer is still in bed, and shall we keep silence? Can that man (pointing to me) be expected to restore him to health again? Where are his horses, and where is his carriage? Let us call in some better and more skilful men, and let them have a consultation about the case!’ Better and more skilful men were summoned; they arrived and examined the patient. They then nodded their wise heads, and prescribed a new medicine, which, having been fetched from the apothecary's shop, was given to the patient. He took it once or twice, and was soon after ‘gathered to his fathers.’”

Here follows a long and humorous description of the author's meeting with the soul of his recently departed patient. The soul told him the story of its many adventures during its long earthly career; how it frequently passed over from one body into another, and how it had once also been transferred from the body of an ass into that of a physician. In that capacity, the soul informed the author that it had prospered greatly, not on account of its cleverness or ability, but because it had acted on certain practical rules which it recommended the author to follow in his profession. The soul then goes on to explain what they are:—

“1. Powder your hair white, and place on the table of your study a human skull and some curious skeletons of the animal world. Those coming to you for medical advice will then say that your hair must surely have turned white through overwork in your profession, and through your protracted studies in the domain of natural science.

“2. Fill your library with large-sized books that are richly bound in red and gold. No matter whether you ever open and read them or not, people will always have a high opinion of your great acquirements and wisdom.

“3. Sell and pawn everything for the sake of having a carriage of your own. Your patients may die right and left through your errors of judgment, yet the fact of having your carriage waiting outside their doors will shield you from adverse criticism.

“4. If called to a patient you must pay less attention to him and his malady than to those persons who are round about him. On leaving the sick-room assume a grave face, and say that the case is a very critical one. Should the patient die then you will have hinted at his death; but if, on the other hand, he gets well again, his relations and friends will naturally attribute his recovery to your extraordinary medical skill.

“5. Have as little as possible to do with the poor. For, as they will only send for you in hopeless and desperate cases, you will not gain any honour or reward by attending them. Be therefore exceedingly reserved with them, and keep them at a distance. Let them wait outside your house, and those who pass by will look with amazement at the crowd patiently waiting to obtain your services.

“6. Consider every medical practitioner as your natural enemy, and speak always of him with the utmost disparagement. If he happens to be young, then you must say that he has not had sufficient experience, and can do no good; and if he is old, you must declare that either his eyesight is bad, or that he is a little crazy, and is not fit to be trusted in important cases.

“7. If asked to take part in a consultation with other physicians, you will be acting wisely if you always loudly protest against the previous treatment of the case by your colleagues. Whatever the issue of the case may be, you will always be on the safe side.”

In the same satire Erter speaks in by no means flattering terms of his old enemy, the Chief Rabbi of Lemberg, to whom he had already alluded in another satire, entitled ‪מאזני משקל‬. There he had censured him for having published a bulky commentary on the well-known code of Jewish laws, called _Shulchan Aruch_, under the title of ‪ישועות יעקב‬, as being the work of his own pen. But Erter shows that the contribution of the learned divine was limited to the title-page, while the rest of it was in reality the work of other authors. Not satisfied with this revelation, however, Erter seizes the opportunity offered to him in the satire “Transmigration of the Soul” to refer again to the soul of the same Rabbi, who had once caused him such great trouble. This soul, says Erter, made him a full confession of its origin, and declared that it had formerly belonged to a mean, scurvy, and ill-tempered watchdog. Being too dangerous an animal to be allowed to move freely about, it had to be kept chained to its kennel. There it kept straining at its chain, watching all the time for any passersby; and when it saw some one coming it began to howl and to bark violently, and incited all the dogs in the neighbourhood to follow his example, resulting in a deafening uproar. Woe to the person who came within its reach without being provided with a long stick or some other protective weapon. For the dog would attack him suddenly, and cause him serious injuries. But, on the other hand, if the stranger were well armed, the savage brute would, in spite of its pretended courage, retreat at once and crouch behind its kennel. This dog once swallowed a big bone, in consequence of which it died an untimely death, but its soul continued its transmigration, and entered the body of a human being. When the latter grew up and became a man he still retained the nature and the characteristics peculiar to the canine species, or rather to a cowardly watchdog. Unfortunately he thought fit to choose the Jewish ministry for his calling, and as ill-luck would have it succeeded ultimately in obtaining the guardianship of the souls of his flock. Far from following the golden path of a true minister of the Jewish religion, who is in duty bound to promote peace and harmony in his community, he allowed himself to be guided by his canine instinct, and hectored every one whom he disliked. He thundered forth his indiscriminate anathemas against those persons who wished to enter the portals of the temple of knowledge, and induced his adherents to assist him in carrying out his holy work. But, like his cowardly prototype, the watchdog, he only inflicted mortal wounds on the helpless and the unprotected, while he did not dare to harm the rich and powerful, as well as influential members of his flock who resisted him. When the Rabbinical tyrant died his soul, says Erter, migrated into the body of a fox, and thence, in due course, it again entered into the human frame of a spiritual leader of the “Chassidim.”

The “Rebbe” swindle and the clever tricks of the whole fraternity of these performers of supernatural wonders give plenty of scope to Erter's satire, and he is never weary of ridiculing them. In the satire under notice Erter gets hold of the soul of such a “Rebbe,” and causes it to relate some of the adventures through which it had passed during its earthly career. Among other amusing stories it also gives a description of a clever trick, by means of which its late owner, the “Rebbe,” had extricated himself from an awkward position, and shows how he had deceived his devotees even at the time of his death.