A statue of Loew stands at the entrance to Josefov, the old Jewish quarter in Prague.
Rabbi Loew and the Golem
The activities of the alchemists were not by any means the strangest occurrences believed to have taken place during Rudolph’s reign though. In 1580, Rabbi Loew’s creation of a Golem – a man, made by magic from the mud of the city, to protect and defend the population of the Jewish ghetto, was more fantastical by far. Today there are still rumours that the Golem, hidden in the rafters of the Old New Synagogue, is alive and may revive once more if circumstances are right.

 

There have been several films and books about the Golem, and it's of course also likely that the legend of the Golem was one of the inspirations for Mary Shelley's creation, Frankenstein. One of the most enduring, and oddly haunting books, is the one written by Gustav Meyrinck (and by the way, it also features a mysterious tarot deck). Here is an extract:

I rented two small furnished adjacent attic rooms on Althschulgasse, the only street that had been spared in the clearing of the Jewish Town.

Strange coincidence: it was the famous house into which, according to the legend, the Golem once fanished.

I asked the occupants - mostly store clerks and craftsmen - whether there was any truth to the rumour of the "room without a door", and I was laughed at. How could anyone believe such nonsense!

The Golem, Gustav Meyrinck


Rabbi Loew himself was extremely long-lived – if not quite as immortal as his Golem. It was believed that the rabbi could cheat death by recognizing it in any disguise. The story goes that one night during an epidemic of the plague he was walking through the cemetery and happened on an emaciated woman wearing a veil and clutching a slip of paper. He tore the paper from her hand and ripped it to shreds. A fortunate action, as it turned out to be the list of those doomed to die and contained his name written in red ink.

However, finally death came in a disguise that the rabbi did not recognize – hidden deep in a red rose which was presented to him by a child on his birthday. He smelt the rose – and fell down lifeless. As Ripellino [2] wrote:
"Death in a rose. Alas, Death in a rose."

 

 

 

 

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