In 1867 the _Kol-mewasser_ began publishing a serial story by
Linetzki[87] under the name of 'The Polish Boy.' Its popularity at once
became so great that to satisfy the impatient public the editor was
induced to print the whole in book form as a supplement long before it
had been finished in the periodical. The interest in the book lay not so
much in the fact that it was written with boundless humor as in its
being practically an autobiography in which the readers found so much to
bring back recollections of their own sad youth. They found there a
graphic description of the whole course of a Khassid's life as no one
before Linetzki had painted it,--as only one could paint it who had
himself been one of the sect, standing in an even nearer relation to
their Rabbis than had been the case with Aksenfeld. While the latter had
been a follower of one, Linetzki had narrowly escaped being a Rabbi
himself, had suffered all kinds of persecution for attempting to abandon
the narrow sphere of a Khassid's activity, and knew from bitter
experience all the facts related in his work. The story of his own life,
unadorned by any fiction, was dramatic enough to be worth telling, but
he has enriched it with so many details of everyday incidents as to
change the simple biography into a valuable cyclopedia of the life and
thoughts of his contemporaries, in which one may get information on the
folklore, games, education, superstitions, and habits of his people in
the middle of our century.
Linetzki was born in 1839 in Vinitsa, in the Government of Podolsk. At
the age of six he was far enough advanced in Hebrew to begin the study
of the Talmud. At ten he had passed through all the Jewish schools, and
there was nothing left for his teachers to teach him. He was an _Ilui_,
an accomplished scholar, but his father, who was a Khassidic Rabbi, was
not satisfied with his mere scholastic acquirements; he wanted him to be
initiated in all the mysteries of the Cabbala which would make of him a
fanatical Khassid. He was put for that purpose in the hands of a few of
his blind followers, who did not spare any means to kill the last ray of
reason in him, even if they had to resort to violent punishments, with
which they were very liberal. Instead of curbing his spirit, they only
succeeded in nurturing an undying hatred toward themselves and
everything connected with their doctrine. But finding it impossible to
tear himself away from their tyranny, he finally feigned submission and
openly professed adherence to his sect, while he secretly visited the
few intelligent people that the town could muster up and borrowed from
them works that told of the Haskala or that gave some useful
instruction. These books he would take with him to uninhabited houses,
or to the empty synagogues, and pore over them until their contents had
been appropriated by the precocious boy. His father began to suspect
that something was wrong with his son, so at the age of fourteen he
married him to a girl who, he hoped, would take him back on the road of
Khassidism. But finding that, contrary to his expectations, she agreed
in everything with her child-husband, the father managed to divorce her
from him. Linetzki's patience had come to an end; he threw off the thin
mask he had been wearing, and began to make open attacks on the
fanatics. He was again forced into marriage, but with the same result as
before. The Khassidim now wanted to get rid of him at all cost, and in a
dark night he was seized by them and thrown into the river. He was saved
as if by a miracle. After that he was carefully guarded by the police,
and his enemies did not dare to lay hands on him again. At the age of
eighteen he escaped to Odessa, where he eked out his existence by
teaching Hebrew to children, all the time perfecting himself in worldly
sciences. He was again pursued by the Khassidim of the city, who got
away with a box full of his manuscripts, and he decided to leave Russia,
to take a course at the Rabbinical Seminary in Breslau. What was his
surprise when, upon arriving at the Austrian frontier, he was put in
chains by the Rabbi of the border town, who threatened to present a
forged despatch from Odessa in which Linetzki was named as a dangerous
criminal. He again pretended to repent, and was taken back to his
father, from whom the forged despatch had emanated. The latter compelled
his son to do penance at the house of the Rabbi of Sadugora. After that
he was divorced from his second wife, as it was hoped that it would
conciliate him to free him from the ties which had been hateful to him.
Linetzki, however, took the first occasion to escape again. This time he
went to Zhitomir, where at the age of twenty-three he entered the third
class of the Rabbinical school, as his insufficient knowledge of Russian
made it impossible for him to attend a higher class. His schoolmates
were about twelve years old, and ridiculed the man who was sitting on
the same bench with them. He left the institution and went to Kiev,
where in 1863 his Judeo-German literary career began by his volume of
poetry discussed in a previous chapter. His next work was 'The Polish
Boy,' which has gained him a reputation as a classic writer.
Were it not for the many didactic passages which the author has
interwoven in the second part of his story, it might easily be counted
among the most perfect productions of Jewish literature. These
unfortunately mar the unity of the whole. Except for these, the book is
characterized by a truly Rabelaisian humor. Its greatest merit is that
it follows so closely actual experiences as to become a photographic
reproduction of scenes. There is hardly any plot in it, and it is
doubtful if Linetzki would have succeeded so well had he attempted a
piece of fiction, for in his many later works he is signally defective
in this direction. The mere photographic quality of the story, the
straightforward tone that pervades it, the grotesque, unbounded humor
which one meets at every turn, have made it acceptable to the Khassidim
themselves, who grin at their caricatures but must confess that it is
absolutely true. The copy of the book in my possession was sold to me by
a pious itinerant Rabbi, who had treasured it as a precious work.
Linetzki was misled by his early success to regard his unchecked humor
as his special domain, and into cultivating it to the exclusion of the
finer qualities of style and sound reason. The farther he proceeds,[88]
the less readable his works become, the coarser his wit. Later, in the
eighties, he abandons entirely original work to devote himself to the
translation of German books. We have from his pen versions of Lessing's
'Nathan the Wise' and Graetz's 'History of the Jews.' The first is
rather a free paraphrase than an artistic translation, while the second
is not as carefully done as one might have expected. But once has he
returned to the style of his 'The Polish Boy,' in his 'The Maggot in the
Horseradish,'[89] but that is but a reflection of his great work.
Linetzki's reputation is based only on his first novel, which will ever
remain a classic.
A number of men with less talent than those heretofore mentioned have
attempted imitations of this or that popular book. Among these writers
the attacks against the Khassidim still continue at a time when they
have lost their power to sting, when the best authors have abandoned
that field for more useful works. However, some of the minor productions
are quite creditable performances. Such, for example, is the well-told
story in verse by M. Epstein, entitled 'Lemech, the Miracle-worker,'
published in 1880. It tells of Lemech the tailor who leaves his wife,
and turns miracle-worker, which he finds more profitable than his
tailoring. He settles in a distant town and persuades one of the wealthy
men to give him his daughter in marriage. The miracle-worker must not be
refused, and the daughter's previous engagement with Rosenblatt, her
lover, is broken off. Just as the rings are to be exchanged which would
unite Lemech with Rosenblatt's former bride, Rosenblatt steps up with
Lemech's wife, who has been travelling about to find her unfaithful
husband, whom she knows only as a tailor. The story is developed
naturally, and the reflections interwoven in it are well worth reading.
An earlier one-act drama by the same author, 'The Drubbing of the
Apostate at Foolstown,' relates also in verse of the punishment
inflicted by the Rabbi on the Jew who had been found reading one of
Mendelssohn's books. Another, 'The Conversation of the Khassidim,' by
Maschil Brettmann, gives in the form of a dialogue the best exposition
of the tenets of that sect, and shows how the various stories of
miracle-workings originate. The introduction contains a short historical
sketch of this strange aberration of miracle-working, written in an
excellent prose.
While these writers had in view the eradication of some error and the
dissemination of culture by their works, the ancient story-telling for
the mere love of amusing still continues to attract the masses. The
better class of authors were too serious to condescend to compete with
the badchen in their efforts to entertain. The lighter story was
consequently left to an inferior set of men who frequently had no other
excuse for writing their stories than the hope of earning a few roubles
by them. Of such a character are 'Doctor Kugelmann,' 'Wigderl the Son of
Wigderl.' There is, however, a wide difference in these from similar
story-books of the previous generation. The older chapbooks were based
mainly on the romantic material of the West, generally reflecting
nothing of the Jewish life in them. The newer stories of the Southwest
of Russia have this in common with the works of the classical writers,
that they reproduce scenes of contemporaneous Jewish life. At times
these tales are well told and well worth reading. Such is the amusing
_quid pro quo_ in 'A Jew, then not a Jew, then a Good Jew [_i.e._ a
Khassid], and Again a Jew,' by S. Hochbaum. Still more interesting is
the charming comedy 'The Savings of the Women' by Ludwig Levinsohn.[90]
Its plot is as follows: Jekel, a Khassid, returns late at night to his
house, where he is awaited by his wife Selde. To silence her torrent of
invectives he invents a story that the decree of Rabbi Gershon, by which
monogamy had been introduced among the Jews of Europe in the eleventh
century, was about to be dissolved in order that by marrying several
wives the Jews of the town might get new dowries with which to pay the
arrears in their taxes. His wife spreads this news throughout the
community, to the great terror of the women. They resolve to avert the
calamity by offering up their savings stored away in stockings and
bundles. These are brought to the assembled brotherhood of the
Khassidim, who, of course, use the money for a jollification. There are
many amusing incidents in the play. The servant of Selde is dreaming of
the time when she shall be married to Jekel and when she will lord it
over her former mistress; the scene in the women's galleries when the
news of the impending misfortune is reported is very humorous, and the
attempt of the Rabbi's wife to learn the truth of the fact from her
husband who had not been initiated in the story by Jekel is quite
dramatic. It is one of the best, if not the best, comedy written in
Judeo-German.
A number of witty stories in a semi-dramatic form have been produced by
Ulrich Kalmus; the most of these are disfigured by coarse jokes, but a
few of them it would well pay to rearrange for scenic representation.
One of his best is a version of the Talmudical legend of the devil and
the bad wife; it is almost precisely the same that Robert Browning has
versified in his 'Doctor ----.' A good story, resembling Linetzki's 'The
Polish Boy,' but with much less bitterness and humor, is given in
'Jekele Kundas,' by one who signs himself by the pseudonym Abasch.
Translations from foreign tongues are not uncommon in this period. Some
Russian stories are rendered into Judeo-German; also a few German
dramas, such as Lessing's 'The Jews'; from the English we have Walter
Scott's 'Ivanhoe' and Longfellow's 'Judas Maccabæus'; and from the
French we get for that time Massé's 'The Story of a Piece of Bread,' and
from the Hebrew one of Luzzato's dramas. To other useful works of a
scientific character we shall return later.
There is a marked difference in the development of Judeo-German
literature in the Khassidic Southwest and the Misnagdic North. While the
first gave promise of a natural growth and a better future, the second
showed early the seeds of decay. The nearness to Germany explains the
deterioration of the literary Judeo-German of Lithuania, but the cause
for the weaker activity in the literature itself is to be sought in the
whole mental attitude of the Misnagdim, who as strict ritualists did not
allow the promptings of the heart to interfere with their blind
adherence to the Law. The very origin of Khassidism was due to a protest
against that cold formalism which excluded everything imaginative.
Unfortunately this protest opened the way to the Cabbala and admitted
the wildest excesses of mysticism in the affairs of everyday life, and
this soon gave rise to that form of the new sect with which we meet so
frequently in the descriptions of the early authors of the Southwest.
These, however, in tearing themselves away from their early
associations abandoned only their degraded religious faith, not the love
for the fanciful which, if properly directed by a controlling reason,
would lead to an artistic career. The Misnagdim, on the contrary, in
breaking with their traditions were predisposed to become rationalists
with whom utilitarian motives prevailed over the finer sentiments. Their
advocates of the Reform, who took to writing in the vernacular of the
people, set about from the very start to create a useful, rather than an
artistic, literature, to give positive instruction rather than to amuse.
The outward form of language and style was immaterial to them; the
information the story carried was their only excuse for writing it.
Foremost of that class of writers was Aisik Meier Dick,[91] who in the
introduction to one of his stories[92] speaks as follows of his purpose
in publishing them:
"Our women have no ear and no feeling for pure ethical instruction. They
want to hear only of miracles and wonderful deeds whether invented or
true; they find delight in the story of Joseph de la Reyna, or of
Elijah's appearance in the form of an old man to be the tenth in the
Minyan on the eve of the Atonement day; they are even satisfied with the
story of Bevys of Hamptoun and the Greyhound, with the Horse Drendsel
and the Sword Familie, and with the beautiful Princess Deresna, or
merely with a story of a Bride and Bridegroom.
"This sad fact, dear readers, I took deep to heart, and I resolved to
make use of this very weakness for interesting stories for their own
good by composing books of an entertaining nature, which would at the
same time carry moral lessons. Thanks to God I have succeeded in my
undertaking, for my stories are being read diligently, and they are
productive of good. Several hundred stories of all kinds have been so
far issued by me, each having a different purpose. Even every witty tale
and mere witticism teaches something useful. I am sure a great number of
my readers do not suspect my good intentions, and read my stories, just
as they read Bovo, for pastime only, and will accuse me, the writer of
the same, as being a mere babbler who distracts the attention from
serious studies, and as writing them for the money that there is in
them. I know all that full well, and yet I keep on doing my duty, for
even greater men than I have been treated in no better way by our
nation; our prophets have been cursed by us, and beaten, and pulled by
the hair, and spit upon, and some have even been killed. I am proud to
be able to say that I am not making my living from my writings, and I
should have been repaid tenfold better if I had passed my time in some
more profitable work. But I do it only out of love for my nation, of
whom the most do not know how far they are removed from mankind at
large, and what a miserable position we occupy in these enlightened days
among the civilized nations.... We must, whether we wish or not, enter
into much closer relations with the outside world than our parents did.
We must, therefore, be better acquainted with the world, that we may be
tolerated by our fellow-men (the Gentiles), who surpass us in
civilization.... Consequently, I regard it as a great favor to speak to
you by means of my books, and as a still greater favor that the famous
firm of Romm is willing to print them, for the publication of prayers is
more profitable than that of story-books that are only read in
circulating libraries or merely borrowed from a friend."
This passage fully characterizes Dick's activity, which lasted from the
fifties until his death, in 1893. He was not a man of deep learning, and
did not produce any masterpieces, such as the other writers of the time
were printing in the South. But he atoned for this by his great
earnestness and good common sense, which led him to choose the best
subjects for his stories, such as would be of the most immediate good
for his humble readers. He translated or imitated the leading popular
books of his time, not limiting himself to such as were taken out of
Jewish life, but independently of their religious tenor. Among his
translations we find the works of Bernstein, Campe, Beecher-Stowe; there
are imitations of Danish, French, Polish, and Russian books; and many
subjects, not easily traceable now, have been suggested to him by other
literatures. He has also written many stories taken from the life of the
Lithuanian Jews. He ascribes great importance to biographies, devoting
several introductions to impress the necessity of reading these. But he
treats just as frequently geographical and historical themes; among the
latter he has even dared to give an impartial discussion of the
Reformation.
At first Dick's books were small 16mos of rarely more than forty-eight
pages, and up to the year 1871 the abbreviation AMD, for his name,
occurs but twice. After that all his works bear the initials, or even
the name in full. The small size of the books is due to his desire to
make them accessible to the poorest of his race; this necessitated a
retrenchment of nearly all the works which he translated. Only in the
eighties, when reading had become universal and more expensive works
could be published, did he issue octavos of considerable thickness, some
of them being four-volumed books. Dick had no talent as a writer, and
his style is but a weak reflection of the originals which he translated.
The language he uses is a frightful mixture of Judeo-German with German,
the latter frequently predominating over the first, so that he is often
obliged to give in parentheses the explanation of unusual words. And so
it happened that, although his purpose had been a good one, and his
influence had at first been salutary on a very large circle of readers,
he has set a bad example to a large host of scribblers who have taken
all imaginable liberties with the language and the subjects they treated
of, and have produced a flood of bastard literature under which the many
better productions are entirely drowned. He has destroyed all feeling
for a proper diction, and has cultivated only a passion for reading, so
that it was necessary for his followers to write 'ein höchst
interessanter Roman' on the title-page, and parade the book with crumbs
of German words unintelligible to the public, in order to find a ready
sale.
One of the first to write in the style of Dick was M. R.
Schaikewitsch,[93] who began his prolific career in 1876, since which
time he has brought out more than one hundred books, the most of which
are of bulky proportions. At first he was satisfied to tell stories from
the life of his immediate surroundings, but soon he aspired to higher
things, and began to drag in by the hair scenes and situations of which
he did not have the slightest conception. As long as he wrote of what he
had himself seen he produced books that, without doing any particular
good, were to a certain extent harmless. He certainly has a better
talent for telling a story than Dick; his language is also nearer the
spoken vernacular, and in the beginning he avoided Germanisms. He might,
therefore, have developed into one of the best Jargonists, had he chosen
to study, and had he worked less rapidly. In an adaptation of Gogol's
'The Inspector,' he has shown what he might have been had he had any
earnest purpose in life. But he lacks entirely Dick's straightforwardness,
and writes only to make money. The common people devoured his stories
with the same zeal that formerly they showed towards the productions of
Dick, and unwittingly they have imbibed a poison which the later authors
of a nobler nature, who have the interests of the people at heart, are
trying to eradicate. These try to point out directly by accusation, and
indirectly by writing better novels, how dangerous and immoral
Schaikewitsch is in his books. They go too far in their anxiety to bias
the mind of the masses against him when they speak of his proneness to
immoral scenes, for in that he is not worse than many of the better
class of authors. The deleterious effect is produced not by these, but
by his introducing a world to them that does not exist in reality, that
gives them a most perverted idea of life, without teaching them any
facts worth knowing. In his many historical novels, for example, he uses
good sources for the fundamental facts on which he bases his tale, but
the men and women are such as could never have existed at the period
described and that do not exist now: they are monstrosities of his
imagination as they appear to him in his very narrow sphere of
experiences. His treatment of these historical themes is not unlike the
one given to the stories of Alexander and other ancient works during the
Middle Ages. The resemblance is still further increased by his
extravagant, romantic conception of love, on which he dwells with
special pleasure, to the great joy of his feminine public.
A much better attempt at transferring the method of Dick to dramatic
productions had been made as early as 1867 and the following year by J.
B. Falkowitsch. His two dramas 'Chaimel the Rich' and 'Rochele the
Singer' were at one time very popular in the South. The second is an
adaptation of some foreign work; the first is probably original. They
are written in a good vernacular, but are devoid of interest, as the
didactic element outweighs the plot, and the latter is very loosely
developed. Schaikewitsch has had many imitators, all of whom try to
rival him in quantity. Among these are to be counted Blaustein,
Beckermann, Seiffert, Budson, Buchbinder; the latter, a writer without
talent, has at least given some useful translations, and has also
written some articles on the popular belief of the Jews. Outside of
Dick, the Northwest has produced two important writers, one in the
beginning, the other at the end, of the period. The first is Zweifel,
whom we already know from his poetical works; the other is Schatzkes,
the author of 'The Jewish Ante-Passover.' Zweifel has produced several
small works of aphorisms which have been very popular and have been
frequently reprinted. Their fine moral tone, the purity of the language
used in them, the simple style in which they are composed, place them
among the best books of Judeo-German literature. He has also written a
story, 'The Happy Reader of the Haphtora,' which is a discussion on
piety and honesty clad in the form of a tale. The other, M. A.
Schatzkes, has written but one book, which is not properly called a
story, but an invaluable cyclopedia of Jewish customs, particularly such
as directly or indirectly refer to the Passover, strung together in
chronological order as a consecutive action. With the exception of
Linetzki's 'The Polish Boy,' there has been written no one work that
treats so comprehensively of the beliefs and habits of the Jews in
Russia. Schatzkes is an indifferent story-teller, and his work is full
of repetitions, but, nevertheless, 'The Jewish Ante-Passover' must be
counted among the classics of the period under discussion. It is a sad
picture that is portrayed in it; in a straightforward manner, without
exaggeration, he tells of conditions that one would hardly believe
possible as existing at the end of the nineteenth century.
Neither of these men has told stories in the manner of the Southern
writers, for neither of them cared as much for the form as for the
contents in which they told them. They differ from Dick in that they at
least did not use a corrupt language in their works. All the other
writers have no excuse for writing at all. This inferior literature had
its rise in the seventies, when the better forces had been alienated
from the people and had received instruction in Russian schools. The men
who had been writing for the Haskala, finding their efforts crowned with
success, had ceased to write; many of the older men had passed away. The
newer generation had no reason to proceed in the path of the older men.
There were only the lower classes left, who had had no advantages in the
foreign education, and who were craving for reading matter of
whatsoever kind. It was to these alone that the newer writers spoke,
and they were not animated by any high motives in addressing them. They
were left to themselves to do as they pleased, for the seventies are
characterized by an absence of all criticism. No one cared what they did
or how they did it. All felt and hoped that the last hour for the Jargon
had come, and it was immaterial to them what was produced in
Judeo-German literature before its final decay. But Abramowitsch's
prophecy in 'The Dobbin' was fulfilled,--the assimilation that had been
going on peacefully had not produced the desired result, and one morning
those who had had time to forget the language their mothers had been
talking to them awoke to the bitter consciousness that they were
despised Jews, on the same level with the most lowly of their race.
Among these arose a new school of writers who introduced the methods of
the literary languages into their native dialect. The next period, the
present, is signalized by a spirit of sound criticism.