Movie Monsters

by Peter Haining

  When the Golem heard this, he quickly shook the fish out of the bag into the water and ran home.

  When Rabbi Loew was told about this he laughed and said to his people: ‘Now I see that the Golem is fit only for sacred purposes and should not be employed to do profane things.’

  Since that time people were even more careful than before not to send the Golem upon ordinary errands.

  From this time on, Rabbi Loew utilised the services of the Golem only in such cases as involved the clearing up of some threatened accusation against Judaism. Whenever he entrusted him with a mission which was likely to be dangerous, Rabbi Loew would provide the Golem with an amulet which made him invisible.

  In this condition the Golem went among the Jewbaiters and listened to their conversations. If he learned of any evil designs, he would come quickly to Rabbi Loew and the peril that threatened would be averted in time.

  From year to year, in the time between Purim and Passover, when blood accusations against the Jews were frequently made, the Golem, in the costume of a Christian porter, used to loiter about, night after night, in the streets of the ghetto. As soon as he perceived any suspicious figure, especially if he carried a bundle or was driving a wagon, the Golem would quickly approach and make a thorough investigation. If the suspicious person was found to have a dead child in his possession, the Golem would drag him by force to the authorities and, after calling attention to the culprit by means of various gestures, disappear.

  In this way the Golem became the terror of the enemies of the Jews. Some regarded him as a spectre of Rabbi Loew.

  At about this time, there lived in Prague the famous philanthropist and communal leader, Mordecai Meisel. A Christian butcher by the name of Havlicek owed him five thousand gulden, for which Meisel was compelled to sue him. Havlicek thought of a means for having Meisel put into prison, knowing that there Meisel would forget his demands.

  The time of the Passover feast arrived. Havlicek decided to smuggle the corpse of a child into the house of Mordecai Meisel, and then to report to the authorities that Meisel was implicated in the murder of a child.

  In those days, the slaughter house was situated on the other side of the Jews’ street, so that Christian butchers also used it as a thoroughfare.

  Havlicek went about his work in the following manner: He opened the grave of a child who had but recently died, took the corpse with him into the slaughter house, where, in a remote corner, he made an incision in its throat to make it appear that the child had been ‘ritually’ slaughtered, covered it with a small prayer shawl, and placed it inside a slaughtered pig.

  It was a dreadfully dark night, as if God had poured blackness over everything in the world. About midnight Havlicek placed the pig upon a waggon and, driving noiselessly toward the Jewish quarter, was on the point of throwing the corpse of the child cautiously through the cellar window of the house of Mordecai Meisel, but ‘behold, He that keepeth Israel does neither slumber nor sleep.’ (Psalms cxxi, 4.)

  After the Golem had, faithful to the command of his master, peered into the darkness of the night, watching out for suspicious persons, he caught sight of a waggon, upon the box of which a man was driving. A waggon. . .? In a wink, he was there, making a thorough search. When he came upon the bundle in the carcass of the slaughtered pig, he quickly took the reins and bound Havlicek fast to the driver’s seat. The latter, himself a man of athletic build, tried with all the strength of a desperate man to defend himself and struggled with his assailant. When, however, the latter had given him several hard blows so that he began to bleed, the desire to fight abandoned him, and, like an animal caught in a trap, he left off struggling. Thereupon the Golem became driver and rode at a rapid pace directly to the office of the city magistrate. Aroused by the rumbling of a waggon and the groans of Havlicek, the sheriffs hurried out and freed the victim, Havlicek speechless and bewildered. By the light of torches, the waggon was searched to find out what the nocturnal prowler had stolen from his victim, and in this way the corpse of the child wrapped up in a prayer shawl was found. When Havlicek finally recovered from his terror, he truthfully answered questions put to him and swore that he had not murdered the child.

  The Golem, however, had long since disappeared.

  On the following morning the story of the singular detective spread rapidly through the entire city.

  This episode served to increase the antagonistic attitude of the Priest Thaddeus against Rabbi Loew. He guessed that Rabbi Loew had had a hand in the occurrence and had employed mysterious powers. He therefore spread the rumour that Rabbi Loew was a sorcerer.

  It was Erev Pesach in the year 5344 (1584). As Rabbi Loew, in the Altneu Synagogue of Prague, was intoning the prayers which usher in the Feast of Deliverance, he made an error. Instead of reading umachalif es hazmanim (and He changes the seasons) he read umachamitz es hazmanim, (and He sours the seasons). Rabbi Loew was frightened by this error. ‘Stop!’ he thought to himself, ‘This must signify something special, perhaps an attack upon us!’

  He broke off praying and, turning to the congregation, said:

  ‘I must leave off praying, but you may go on, but no one must leave this place until I give the word.’

  He then called the old shammas, Abraham Chayim, and ordered him to go to all the other synagogues and tell the worshipers not to complete the service and not to leave until he would send word.

  To the Golem, Rabbi Loew said: ‘Go quickly to my house and bring here one of the ordinary matzoth and one of the special (mitzvah) matzoth.’

  In a few minutes the Golem returned, his errand performed. Rabbi Loew asked him to taste first a piece of the ordinary matzah and then a piece of the matzah shemurah (special matah used for the Seder ceremony, and throughout Passover by the very pious).

  When he tasted the first matzah, the Golem indicated that it tasted good, but upon his biting into the matzah shel mitzvah, he became deathly pale, and indicated that he felt pain.

  Rabbi Loew’s countenance showed profound concern, and the congregation were filled with fear.

  The face of the Golem became more and more distorted, he groaned and moaned, and Rabbi Loew felt compelled to relieve his pain by placing his hand on the Golem’s body. The services of the supernatural creature were urgently needed.

  The officials of the congregation stormed Rabbi Loew with questions, but he gave no hint, but tried to allay their fears by saying: ‘Be of good cheer, brothers, God’s help comes speedily, and He will save us from destruction.’ He then called the shammes and said: ‘Go into all the synagogues and, in my name, say that the matzoth which were baked in Prague (in those days, matzoth were also furnished to the citydwellers by neighbouring places) are to be regarded as chometz (leavened, ritually unfit) until I shall be able to satisfy my doubts as to their character. No one is even to touch one of these matzoth, especially children and sick persons. It is a matter of life and death!’

  The Rabbi then called together all the men and women who had been connected with the preparation of the matzoth and asked if any non-Jew had worked with them. From them he learned that on the last day of the baking, fearing that the work would not be completed in time, they had called in two non-Jewish baker’s apprentices, but that these had been busy entirely with the rodling (making the lines in the matzoth with a rodel, a toothed wheel). The names of the two men were not known, although they were well known in the Jewish quarter, where they were often employed to do miscellaneous work. They were generally referred to as ‘the red-beards.’

  Rabbi Loew, thereupon, gave instructions that only those matzoth which were baked on the previous day were under the ban, and that all others could be freely partaken of, on condition that they should be equitably divided, so that those whose matzothc belonged to the forbidden batch should have a supply. He then ordered that the services should be resumed and that each person should, upon their conclusion, go home and celebrate the Seder, without any more ado.

  Rabbi Loew also went home but
he did not sit down at the table. Again, he called the Golem, instructed him to go to the domicile of the ‘red-beards’ and to look for any suspicious vials of liquid or packages of powder. He supplied the Golem with an amulet which rendered him invisible.

  In a very short time, the Golem returned. He had not found either of the apprentices at home, and had had no difficulty in his search. In a drawer, he had come upon a little box of powder which he had brought back with him. When the Rabbi smelled the powder he noticed that it had the same odour as the matzoth shel mitzvah, but to a more concentrated degree. He then ordered the Golem to return at once to the apprentices’ abode and to replace the box, exactly as he had found it. Accompanied by the shammas, Rabbi Loew then wended his way to the office of the prefect of police. On the way, the Rabbi and his companion met the ‘red-beards’ who could not conceal their surprise at the encounter. They greeted the Jews with a ‘Gut Yomtov,’ being familiar with Jewish customs and expressions, and, after the rabbi and the shammas passed them, they remained standing, for some minutes, watching them.

  Rabbi Loew had difficulty in controlling himself, when, upon the inquiry of the chief of police as to what had brought him to the prefecture at so unusual an hour, he explained his errand. The chief listened, with rapt attention, to the Rabbi’s recital, and agreed with him that the finger of suspicion pointed to the two apprentices. He expressed his willingness personally to conduct an investigation without delay. Accompanied by two of his most skilled detectives, he proceeded to the home of the two suspects. Rabbi Loew, in the meantime, returned home in order to celebrate the Seder. It was already past midnight. Almost all the members of the congregation, who had completed the Seder, were assembled at his house, hoping to learn from him what had happened.

  When the chief of police arrived at the abode of the apprentices, he did not find them at home. Hardly had the search begun when the detectives came upon the box of powder, more than half empty. The chief knew at once that it was poison, and it was clear to him that the two criminals must have mixed some of the powder in the flour used for matzoth. He at once sent the two detectives to seek the ‘red-beards’, declaring that he would not leave the house until they were brought to him.

  About an hour later, the detectives returned with the culprits, who wore handcuffs. The officers reported that the two miscreants had resisted arrest.

  When the chief began to examine them, asking where they had procured the powder and what they had done with the portion missing from the box, the ‘red-beards’ remained dumb, though their eyes showed that they were terrified.

  The chief stamped his feet and said:

  ‘If you confess the truth your punishment will be a mild one; if not, you may be put to death!’

  The two exchanged looks, but remained silent.

  Then the chief shouted in a tone which penetrated to the very marrow of their bones, and one of them felt compelled to make the following statement:

  ‘We have been at home in the houses of Jews for a number of years. They have been very good to us. But some time ago, we were sent for by the monk, Thaddeus, who said to us: “It is quite probable that the Jews will need you as Pesach-goyim and that they will give you work. Well, do you wish to do something for which many will be very thankful to you?” We answered: “Yes, we would be glad to do such a good deed.” Thereupon, he gave us a little vial containing a liquid and said: “When you will be employed by the wine-seller Berger, try to pour into each barrel of wine a few drops of this liquid.” We said: “We are not permitted to come near the wine.” Then he said: “We must be through with the Jews once and for all, because their faith, their false faith is harmful. Therefore, you must do your very best to try to secure work in the matzoth-baking, and, if you do, be sure to drop this powder into the flour, especially in the flour which is being used for the matzoth of the Rabbi, who is a terrible sorcerer.” Saying this, he gave us the box of powder, promising us a large sum of money as a reward. So we asked the matzoth bakers to give us work, but they refused to do so until the day before the eve of the Passover when they sent for us. And, at a moment when we were unobserved, we threw part of the powder into the flour, but only part, because we were sorry to cause the death of so many people who had given us employment and the means of a livelihood for so many years.’

  It was dawn before the chief of police finished putting into writing this confession, which both miscreants were willing to sign. Rabbi Loew was then requested to instruct those Jews who had received the poisoned matzoth to bring these to the authorities who would need them as corpora delicti. During the morning services on the first day of Passover, an announcement was made that all matoth which had been baked on the day before Erev Pesach were to be delivered to the office of the chief of police. The Jews received this announcement with anxiety, as they could not understand what connection the authorities had with the matzoth.

  In the meantime, police officers called upon the monk, Thaddeus, and examined him in an attempt to verify and confirm the statement of the apprentices. But Thaddeus denied the entire story, declared that he knew nothing about it, and offered to take an oath to that effect. Although they suspected him, the officers could not arrest Thaddeus, because they had no evidence besides the confession of the apprentices. These two, however, were each sentenced to five years imprisonment.

  Since that day, the Jews of Prague have been careful never to let a ‘red-beard’ come into their homes, and the proverb is to this day current among them, ‘Beware of a red beard!’

  As all know, there were a number of Jewish families from Spain and refugees from Italy, who had come to Prague and settled there. In the course of time, many had met again the members of their families from whom they had been separated amid heartrending cries of woe.

  Even before Rabbi Loew came to Prague, it happened once that in one of those families a brother had married his own sister. Only years afterwards – the couple had already been blessed with several children – the close relationship was revealed, through a hereditary wart concealed on a part of the body.

  Rabbi Loew and his Rabbinical Council held a consultation at once, when the case was brought to his knowledge, and that same day the legal separation of the couple was effected.

  Although Rabbi Loew had it announced that there was no blame attached to the couple and that their marriage was a decree of fate, which it is beyond the power of man to control, and in spite of the fact the family was one of the foremost in Prague and was related to the most distinguished native Prague Jewish families, still there remained a blot on the couple. Their honorable name ‘Nadler’ was converted into a nickname, and the word ‘wart’, in vulgar tongue of the time, came to be designated by the word ‘Nadler’.

  This abusive word spread over all Prague, so that when one wished to insult another, he called him ‘Nadler’. Rabbi Loew was enraged when he became aware that that demoralising abusive word was being circulated, because, on one hand, the blameless family were being deeply offended, and, on the other hand, it had a very harmful effect on the morals of the children, as the nickname penetrated even the children’s school.

  After preliminary exchange of opinion in writing with the greatest Rabbinical authorities, Rabbi Loew, together with his Rabbinical Council, had, at the blow of a horn and in the presence of two burning black candles, pronounced a ban against any one who would use the word ‘Nadler’ as a nickname or epithet. The ban had its effect, and people took care not to use the word any more.

  Still there were in Prague some people who disregarded the prohibition, and who, as formerly, in cases of insults in controversy, would resort to the word ‘Nadler’. Rabbi Loew said of them that they were possessed by the spirit of Korah. (Numbers xvii, 1.)

  When Rabbi Loew was informed of this, he sent his servant Abraham Chayim to the leader of those people, a porter, to serve a summons on him to appear before the Rabbinate. But the man retorted boldly: ‘I will come when I am at leisure.’ Rabbi Loew became very angry when h
e heard this. He had Joseph Golem come to him and he ordered him to bring the porter to the Rabbi’s house. The Golem betook himself straightaway to the house of the porter, grasped him by the back of his neck, and carried him, like a slaughtered little lamb, through the city to the Rabbi Loew’s house. The latter had got a few strong men ready, to administer the lashing due to the perverse fellow. After the punishment was administered, the man had to appear before Rabbi Loew, barefoot, to ask his forgiveness, and to make a vow from then on never to use the word ‘Nadler’.

  The porter swore vengeance against the people who had administered the blows to him. His anger was directed in particular against the Golem, and he made up his mind to get even with him.

  When the man returned home, he held counsel with his friends as to attacking the Golem and killing him. A favourable opportunity soon presented itself for them to that end.

  It was a custom with Rabbi Loew to have fresh cold water brought to him from a neighbouring very deep well every week at the close of the Sabbath. When, on the following Saturday evening, the Golem, as usual, appeared at the well and, in order to pull up the water, lowered the wellbucket with the long wooden well-pole, these men fell upon him from behind, seized him, and, before he could ward off their grasp, threw him, head down, into the well.

  It was a freezing, cold night. If the Golem had been an ordinary human, he would have met death instantly. But to him it did not mean very much. He dived several times in the ice-cold water and attempted to climb up the walls. But the men threw stones into the well, inflicting wounds on his nose and his right eye, after which they ran away. The Golem, who was not able to climb upon the smooth walls, swam back and forth and stayed on the surface of the water.

  In the meantime, at the house of Rabbi Loew, the people were waiting for the Golem to return. As a few hours passed by, and he had not yet returned, Rabbi Loew sent the old servant Abraham Chayim, who accompanied by two other men, betook himself to the well with a lantern in his hands. When the Golem saw the light of the lantern, he began to clap with his hands. Quickly they lowered the wooden wellpole with the bucket, the Golem stepped into it and was thus pulled up. Bleeding and exhausted, he was led to Rabbi Loew, who ordered that the Golem be undressed and placed near the warm stove. Only on Tuesday, the Golem appeared again before Rabbi Loew, who, through signs, questioned him about his experience. The Golem wrote the answer on paper, and at once asked permission to take revenge on the man who had attempted to kill him. But Rabbi Loew did not grant permission, and said: ‘The culprits will receive their punishment from Heaven.’ And so it was. For, all at once, there was formed on the hand of the porter a black wart. It was removed by surgical operation, but it grew back immediately. Then the carrier saw that that was imposed upon him as a punishment of God, because he did not regard the ban of Rabbi Loew. He sent his wife and child to Rabbi Loew, to ask his forgiveness, but the Rabbi did not even let them come near him. He said: ‘May death be his punishment!’ A few days later, the man died.