The Golem

  Isaac Bashevis Singer

  The Golem, Copyright © 2023 by The Isaac Bashevis Singer Literary Trust

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in whole or in part, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, write to: Goodreads Press, 454 West 44th Street, New York, NY 10036, or email info@goodreadspress.com.

  I dedicate this book to

  the persecuted and oppressed everywhere,

  old and young, Jew and Gentile,

  in the hope against hope that the time

  of false accusations and malicious decrees

  will cease one day.

  I. B. S.

  CONTENTS

  Author's Note

  The Golem

  Author's Note

  I published the story of The Golem in the Jewish Daily Forward in 1969. In the autumn of 1981 I worked on the translation, and in the process I made many changes, as I always do. I received good advice about the use of English words and expressions from my beloved wife Alma, as well as from my secretary Deborah Menashe, to whom I dictated this work. The whole text was edited by my good friend Robert Giroux, who has been my editor for twenty-two years.

  In the time when the famous Cabbalist Rabbi Leib served as rabbi in the old city of Prague, the Jews suffered persecution. The Emperor Rudolf II, an erudite man, was intolerant of anybody outside the Catholic faith. He persecuted Protestants, and even more so the Jews, who were often accused of using Christian blood to bake Passover matzohs. Almost everybody knew that this accusation was false, that the Jewish religion forbade the eating of animal blood, let alone human. But every few years this charge was renewed. Whenever a Christian child disappeared, the enemies of the Jews immediately proclaimed that it had been killed to provide blood for matzohs. There was never a lack of false witnesses. Innocent men were executed, and it happened more than once that the lost child was later found alive and healthy.

  Rabbi Leib, a great Talmudic scholar, was steeped in mysticism and magic. He seemed to have the power to cure the sick by conjuring up supernatural forces and by using various cameos and talismans. Whenever an innocent member of his congregation was imprisoned, Rabbi Leib hastened to prove the man's innocence. Many believed that Rabbi Leib could call on the help of angels and even demons and hobgoblins in times of great danger to his community.

  In Prague there lived a squire by the name of Count Jan Bratislawski who had been immensely rich, with many estates and hundreds of serfs, but he had lost his fortune in gambling, drinking, and private wars with other landlords. His wife felt so disgraced by his bad behavior that she fell ill and died. She left him a little daughter, Hanka.

  At the same time there lived in Prague a Jew by the name of Reb Eliezer Polner. He was an able and diligent businessman, and although he lived in the ghetto he became a well-known banker, not only in Prague but throughout the whole of Europe. Reb Eliezer was also known for his charity in helping both Jews and Christians. He was nearing sixty and had a silver-white beard. Even on weekdays, he wore a sable hat and a long silk coat with a broad sash. Reb Eliezer had a large house, married sons and daughters, and a bevy of grandchildren. He was a scholar in his own way. It was his custom to get up at sunrise every day and pray and study the Bible and the Talmud until noon. Only then did he go to the bank to conduct his business. His wife, Sheindel, came from a distinguished family and was as God-fearing and as goodhearted as her husband. Daily she visited the poorhouse, bringing bread and hot soup to the poor and sick.

  Since Count Bratislawski was always in need of money, he had to sell most of his fields and forests and also his serfs, who were then, at the end of the sixteenth century, bought and sold like cattle. He owed Reb Eliezer's bank a lot of money, and eventually Reb Eliezer had to refuse him further loans.

  In that year, in the month of March, which fell around the Jewish month of Nissan, the Count had been playing cards with a group of rich gamblers every day of the week and late into the night. He had lost all the gold ducats he had in his purse. He was eager to win his money back, and began to play on credit, signing a note that he would repay within three days any debt that he might incur. To break a promise like that was considered a terrible disgrace among these gamblers. It happened more than once that a gambler who could not repay his debt shot himself with his pistol.

  After Count Bratislawski had signed this note, he continued to play cards with great fervor, all the while drinking wine and smoking tobacco. By the time the game had finally ended. Count Bratislawski had lost seventy-five thousand ducats. He was too drunk to grasp what he had done. He went back to his castle and slept for many hours. Only when he awoke did he realize what had happened. He didn't possess even seventy-five ducats. All his properties had been sold or mortgaged.

  When the Count's wife, Helena, died, she left to her little girl, Hanka, a great amount of jewelry worth over a million ducats. This inheritance was held in the custody of the court because Count Bratislawski could not be trusted to hold on to these valuables. According to her mother's will, Hanka was to inherit the jewels at the age of eighteen.

  When Bratislawski sobered up, he fell into deep despair. He loved life too much to commit suicide. Even though he knew that Reb Eliezer could not grant him credit any more, he asked his coachman to harness his carriage and take him to Reb Eliezer's bank in the ghetto. When the Count mentioned the sum that he would like to borrow, Reb Eliezer said, "Your Highness, you know very well that you could never repay a debt like that."

  "I must have the money!" Bratislawski shouted.

  "I'm sorry, but you cannot get it from my bank," Reb Eliezer answered calmly.

  "You cursed Jew! I will get the money one way or another," the Count screamed in rage. "And you will pay clearly for your insolence in refusing a loan to the great Count Bratislawski."

  Saying these words, the Count spat into Reb Eliezer's face. Reb Eliezer humbly wiped off the spittle with his kerchief and said, "Forgive me, Count, but there was no sense in gambling for such high stakes and signing notes that cannot be honored."

  "Be sure I will get the money, while you will rot in prison and be hanged. Remember my words."

  "Life and death are in God's hands," Reb Eliezer said. "If I am destined to die, I will accept God's decree with humility."

  Count Bratislawski left and went back to his castle to ponder a way out of his dilemma. He was greedy for two things: money to cover his debts, and revenge on the Jew. He soon devised a devilish plan.

  Since it was only two weeks to Passover, the Jews in Prague were busy baking matzohs. The winter had been unusually cold, but the month of Nissan brought the warm breezes of spring. It was Reb Eliezer's custom to study Mishnah, the code of Jewish law, at night before going to bed. This time he had chosen the section that dealt with the laws pertaining to the baking of matzohs, preparing of the Seder, reciting of the Haggadah, and drinking of four goblets of sanctified wine. Even though more than three thousand years have passed since the exodus from Egypt, the Jews, all over the world, have never forgotten that they were slaves to Pharaoh, the ruler of the Egyptians, and that God granted them freedom.

  Suddenly Reb Eliezer heard heavy steps and then a brutal knocking at the door. The maids and male servants were asleep. Reb Eliezer opened the door himself and saw a group of soldiers holding their naked swords in their hands. Their leader, a corporal, asked, "Are you the Jew Eliezer Polner?"

  "Yes, I am."

  "Chain him and take him away," the corporal said.

  ''Why? What wrong have I done?" Reb Eliezer asked in perplexity.

  "This they will tell you later. Meanwhile, let's go."

  Reb Eliezer spent that night in jail. The next morning they brought him to an investigator's chamber. It was where the most dangerous criminals were brought. There Reb Eliezer saw Count Bratislawski and some others—among them, a man who looked like a drunk and a woman whose lace was full of warts and who squinted. The investigator said, "Jew, you are accused of breaking into the house of our noble Count Bratislawski and taking away his little daughter, Hanka, by force with the purpose of killing her and using her blood for matzohs."

  Reb Eliezer went white in the face. "I have never had the privilege of visiting the Count's castle," he said in a choked voice. "I spend every night in my house. My wife, my children, my sons-in-law, my daughters-in-law, and all my servants can testify that I'm telling the truth."

  "All those people are Jews," the investigator said. "But there are two Christian witnesses who saw you break into the Count's castle and drag away his child in a sack."

  "Witnesses? What witnesses?"

  "Here are the witnesses." The investigator pointed to the drunken man and the woman with warts on her face. "Tell what you have seen. You, Stefan, speak first."

  Stefan seemed benumbed from drinking, even though it was yet morning. He shuffled his feet and stuttered: "Yesterday night, I mean the day before yesterday, no, it was three days back. I heard a noise in Hanka's room. I lit a candle and looked in. There stood this Jew with a knife in one hand and a sack in the other. He pushed Hanka into the sack and went away. I heard him mumble to himself, 'Her red-hot blood will be just right for our matzohs.' "

  "How could you let me take away the Count's child without defending her and rousing everybody in the castle?" Reb Eliezer asked in a shaking voice. "You are younger and str onger than I am."

  Stefan's mouth dropped open. His tongue lolled. His bulging eyes rolled over in his head. His feet faltered, and he held on to the wall. "You. Jew, threatened me with your knife."

  "Your Honor, don't you see that it is all a shameless lie?" Reb Eliezer said. "First of all, the Jews never use blood for any purpose whatsoever. Second, according to the Mosaic law, nothing can be used in the baking of matzohs except flour and water. And then why should I, a man of sixty, a banker, a leader of the congregation, commit an abomination like that? Even madness must have some logic."

  "Barbara was there, and she saw it too," Stefan said.

  "What did you see, Barbara?" the investigator asked.

  The woman squinted. "I saw the Jew. I opened the door and I saw him push Hanka into the sack."

  "And you didn't call for help?" Reb Eliezer asked.

  "I, too, was afraid of your knife."

  "Why didn't you call for help later?" Reb Eliezer asked.

  "I don't need to answer to you, you vicious murderer!" Barbara screeched, threatening Reb Eliezer with her fist.

  "Your honor, Count Bratislawski came to me a short time ago and asked me for the loan of a huge sum of money," Reb Eliezer said. "I had to refuse him since he already owes me and others a lot of money that he cannot repay. He then warned me that I would rot in prison. He is now trying to revenge himself on me."

  "It is all one big lie!" the Count cried out. "I never asked him to lend me any money. The Jew Eliezer is nothing but a cold-blooded killer, and he should be tortured and hanged, together with all those who helped him commit this heinous crime."

  "Your Honor—" Reb Eliezer began to speak.

  "Silence. Jew! There are two witnesses who testify that you committed the crime, and this is enough. You had better confess whom you conspired with in this horrible offense. If you try to deny it, we have plenty of means to drag the truth out of your mouth, you merciless murderer." the investigator growled.

  "God in heaven. I didn't plan anything with anybody. I never leave the house at night, because I am an elderly man and I don't see well in the dark. I am as capable of taking a child out of its bed and doing the things you accuse me of as walking on my head. I implore Your Honor to think over what an absurdity this condemnation is, how wild, how preposterous, how cruel—"

  "There's nothing to think over. Who waited for you and the child you captured outside? Where did you take her? How did you cut off her young life?" the investigator asked.

  "All I can say is that I stayed home that night just as I do every other night. I haven't done anything wrong."

  "The old Jewish stubbornness," Count Bratislawski cried out. "They are caught red-handed and they still attempt to deny the truth. You will hang, Jew! And even your God will not be able to save you."

  "You can say whatever you want, sir, about me, but don't blaspheme God. He can help us, if we deserve it."

  "Well? Why doesn't he break your chains?" Bratislawski mocked. "Why doesn't he send down thunder to strike me dead?"

  "You, sir, don't need to advise God what to do." Reb Eliezer said.

  "I order the Jew Eliezer Polner to be kept in prison on bread and water and to be tortured until he reveals what he did with that helpless child and who assisted him in this abhorrence," the investigator said.

  Immediately, the soldiers led Reb Eliezer Polner out and threw him back into jail. The two witnesses, Stefan and Barbara, were also led out of the investigator's chamber. Count Bratislawski winked to them and smirked.

  When Bratislawski was finally alone with the investigator, he said, "Now that Hanka's death has been verified, I, her only heir, should be able to receive her entire fortune without delay."

  "Wait awhile," the investigator replied. "Let the whole scandal blow over first. This particular Jew has many friends even among the Christians. Hardly anyone would believe that this old banker came in the middle of the night with a sack to snatch away your little daughter. The case may later be appealed to a higher court. The Jew may even have some allies in the Emperor's palace. As long as the Jew is alive and has not yet confessed, he cannot be hanged. You will have to wait for Hanka's estate."

  "I cannot wait. My honor is at stake," Bratislawski said. ''If I don't pay my debt immediately, my name is ruined forever."

  The investigator smiled cunningly. "Your name was ruined when you were born."

  "My name will stay pure and among the best in all of Bohemia," Bratislawski boasted.

  "Well, time will tell."

  Bratislawski and the investigator continued to converse and to whisper for a long time. Even though they called themselves Christians, neither of them believed in God and in His commandments. Money, cards, wine, hazardous games, all kinds of idle pleasures were the essence of their lives.

  More than all the other Jews in Prague, Rabbi Leib was heartbroken when he heard the terrible news of Reb Eliezer's arrest. All his life Rabbi Leib had waited for the coming of the Messiah, when the world would be redeemed from all suffering and iniquity, and God's light would fill each soul, each heart. Even the carnivorous beasts would cease devouring other animals, and a wolf would dwell peacefully with a lamb. God would bring back His people to the Holy Land, the Holy Temple would be rebuilt in Jerusalem, and there would be a resurrection of the dead.

  Instead, such an ugly accusation directed toward one of the most honest men of the congregation! The rabbi knew that a succession of arrests would follow and the hangman of Prague would soon be preparing the gallows and the rope for an execution.

  Exactly at twelve o'clock at night, Rabbi Leib rose for his midnight prayers. As usual, he put ashes on his head and began his lamentations over the destruction of the Temple in ancient times. He also shed tears over the misfortune that had befallen Reb Eliezer Polner and the whole Jewish community at the present time.

  Suddenly the door opened and a little man entered wearing a patched robe, with a rope around his loins and with a sack on his back like a beggar. Rabbi Leib was surprised. He thought he had chained the door before beginning his prayers, but it seemed the door was open. Rabbi Leib interrupted his prayers and extended his hand to the stranger, since honoring guests is even more important in the eyes of God than prayer. Rabbi Leib greeted the man with the words Sholom Aleichem, "Peace be with you," and asked him, "What can I do for you?"

  "Thank you, I don't need anything. I shall leave soon." the stranger said.

  "In the middle of the night?" Rabbi Leib asked.

  "I must take my leave soon."

  Rabbi Leib looked at the man, and at that moment it became clear to him that this was not a usual wanderer. Rabbi Leib saw in his eyes something which only great men possess and which only great men recognize—a mixture of love, dignity, and fear of God. Rabbi Leib realized that the stranger might be one of the thirty-six hidden saints through whose merit the world existed, according to tradition. Never before had Rabbi Leib had the privilege of meeting a man of this stature. Rabbi Leib bowed his head and said, "Honored guest, we here in Prague are in great distress. Our enemies arc about to destroy us. We are sinking up to our very necks in tribulations."

  "I know," the stranger answered.

  "What should we do?"

  "Make a golem and he will save you."

  "A golem? How? From what?"

  "From clay. You will engrave one of God's names on the golem's forehead, and with the power of that Sacred Name he will live for a time and do his mission. His name will be Joseph. But take care that he should not fall into the follies of flesh and blood."

  "What Sacred Name shall I engrave?" Rabbi Leib asked.

  The stranger took out from his breast pocket a piece of chalk and on the cover of Rabbi Leib's prayer book wrote down some Hebrew letters. Then he said, "I must go now. See to it that all this remains a secret. And employ the golem only to help the Jews."

  Before Rabbi Leib was able to utter a word of gratitude, the man vanished. Only then did the rabbi realize that the door had been chained all along. The rabbi stood there trembling, and praising God for sending him that heavenly messenger.

  Although the holy man had told Rabbi Leib that his appearance and the making of the golem must remain a secret, Rabbi Leib realized that he had to share it with his beadle, Todrus. Todrus had served Rabbi Leib for the last forty years, and he had kept many secrets. A strong man, he was totally devoted to the rabbi. He had neither a wife nor children. Serving Rabbi Leib was his entire life; he lived in the rabbi's house and made his bed next to Rabbi Leib's chamber of study, so that he should always be ready to serve him even in the middle of the night. Rabbi Leib knocked lightly at his door and whispered, "Todrus."

 

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