Solomon Rabinowitsch began writing for the _Volksblatt_[99] at about the
same time as Spektor, and shortly after the appearance of the
_Hausfreund_ he issued an annual, _Die Jüdische Volksbibliothēk_, which
was of even a more pretentious character than its contemporary. Both
authors were animated by the same ideas when they started on their
literary careers and when they commenced publishing their periodicals.
But a glance at the writings of the two is sufficient to convince us
that there is a wide difference in the methods pursued by them, and in
the results achieved. Rabinowitsch is impulsive, enthusiastic,
quick-witted, sarcastic, and these qualities of his character are
discernible in all his productions. He has attempted many things,
poetry, playwriting, novels, criticism, and he is successful in all. He
has been a merchant and an author, has vaulted over from a pure realism
to the illusive dream of Zionism, and bids fair to follow new ideals
should such present themselves to him. He is in every sense an artistic
nature.
While connected with the _Volksblatt_ he wrote a number of sketches and
short stories. The first one to attract the attention of the critic in
the _Voschod_ was his 'Child's Play,'[100] after which his new books
never failed of bringing out favorable comments in that Russian
periodical. He depicts scenes from his own childhood, or from that
middle class into which his fortune, an inheritance of his wife, brought
him. His impulsiveness keeps him from elaborating his sketches into long
novels, such as Spektor and Dienesohn have produced. There is rarely a
complicated plot in them, but the separate situations are painted with
great clearness and in bold relief. One may forget the story, but one
will never forget his characters. They have all of them their sharply
defined individuality, their language, their circle of thought. We get
acquainted with them through their actions rather than through the
author's description, and we like them not for the parts they play in
the story, but for their strong personalities, equally pronounced in
their virtues as in their weaknesses. The men and women he describes we
have met somewhere, and we shall again recognize should we meet them in
actual life. The Russian critic, who is naturally in touch with his own
literature, unconsciously thinks of this and that well-known character
in the writings of Gogol and Ostrovski, when he speaks of Rabinowitsch's
creations, and at times he actually gives them their Russian names. But
Rabinowitsch does not imitate Gogol and Ostrovski, at least not
purposely. He is himself possessed of a humor which is not dissimilar to
that of the Russian authors, and the society which he describes is not
unlike the one Gogol knew half a century ago, and Ostrovski found even
at a later time among the merchant class of Moscow. He is a close
observer, and knows how to separate the wheat from the chaff, to present
to the reader only the essential characteristics, and not to burden the
story with subjective discussions.
Although Rabinowitsch may have started in the literary field with no
other idea than the current one of elevating the lower classes, there is
certainly nothing in his works to show that that has long remained his
main object. He writes to entertain, and not to instruct. Moreover, he
draws his subjects from a class of society with which the masses are not
particularly well acquainted. With him the last spark of the didactic
ideals of the Haskala has entirely vanished. He is above all else a
litterateur who is addressing an audience with a decided taste for good
literature. He is, therefore, more calculated to win the ears of the
better classes than of the lowly of his race, to exercise a corrective
influence on the manners of the middle class than to educate or console
the masses.
Of his longer works, 'Stempenju' is the most artistically conceived and
most carefully executed. In his previous productions such as 'Child's
Play,' and 'Sender Blank,' he had humorously depicted scenes from the
life of the merchant class. In the first of these, he introduces us into
the life and love of a rich man's spoiled, half-educated son. In the
second, which he names a novel without love, we get an excellent picture
of a tyrant and miser, the terror of his family, the merchant Sender
Blank. He is on his death-bed, and his congregated children are, each in
his own way, dreaming of the moment when they shall be free to do as
they like, when they shall no longer be kept in poverty. But Sender
Blank gets well again, and his family departs, each one to his home with
shattered hopes. In 'Stempenju' we have a more carefully laid plot, and
his first attempt at a novel in which a romantic love plays a part.
Stempenju is a violinist, the leader of a band that plays at weddings.
He has great talent for music and has developed his powers entirely by
self-instruction. He is a real artist, and like many others of his
profession takes life easy, and is of amorous propensities. He has
frequently made love to Jewish women, but the latter generally pay no
attention to his assurances. But once he falls in with a girl who takes
his words in earnest, and in a prosaic way, without any idea of love on
her part, compels him to marry her. She takes him in her hands and would
have him lead a settled, prosaic life also. But he finds relief from his
sordid existence every time he journeys away with his band to play at
some wedding. Once he notices upon such an occasion a young married
woman who awakes in him the first inkling of a real, romantic love.
Rochel--that is her name--is both beautiful in form and kind and lovable
in character. After many overtures he almost succeeds in gaining her
love. It is the easier to succumb to Stempenju's importunities since she
has a silly, worthless man for a husband. She finally comes out
victoriously from her inner struggle, for her religious conviction of
the holiness of the marriage ties are stronger in her than her natural
inclination. Stempenju returns home, and tries to find his consolation
and relief from his scolding wife by having more frequent recourse to
his violin. He plays even more sweetly and more sadly than before.
His other large novel, 'Jossele Ssolowee,' is also a characterization of
the life of an artist, this time a singer. Of his shorter sketches it is
hard to select one as the best, as they are all well written. We shall
take at random the one entitled 'The Colonization of Palestine.' Selig,
the tailor, has read something about the colonization scheme in
Palestine. He joins a society for the promotion of that idea, and
finally abandons his work to go to the neighboring town, where he has
heard there is a society that has a fund from which to pay the
travelling expenses of prospective settlers in the Holy Land. After a
great deal of trouble, he finds the president of the society, who is
vexed at having applicants but no members ready as settlers to support
the scheme, for fund there is none. The tailor offers a small coin as
his contribution, the first that has been given, and returns home a
wiser man and more satisfied with his lot. The story is told humorously,
and is meant as a sarcasm at the readiness of the Jews to form new
schemes and support them with eloquence of speech, but not in a
substantial manner.
Rabinowitsch has also attempted a kind of poetic prose in his 'Nosegay,'
but in this he has not been very successful. He is at best where he can
make use of wit and sarcasm, and that he has been able to apply better
in his stories and comedies. Of the latter his 'Jaknehos' is a good
picture taken from the life of the men who do business on 'Change. Here
again the plot is the minor part of the play, but the separate scenes
are drawn in bold strokes.
When Rabinowitsch came into his fortune, he conceived the idea of
devoting his energy and his money to the creation of a periodical such
as had never before existed in Judeo-German literature. Only two
volumes appeared, when bad speculations on 'Change made him a poor man.
These two annuals show that had he been more fortunate, he soon would
have brought Judeo-German letters to a height where they would have
taken place by the side of the best in Europe. His enthusiasm, his
critical acumen, his talents, fitted him eminently for that undertaking.
Spektor's aim in issuing the _Hausfreund_ was the more modest one of
furnishing the people with wholesome reading. How difficult his task has
been can be seen from the fact that the articles for his periodical are
not paid for. They are voluntary contributions by those who have the
welfare of the masses at heart. However good the forces may be, it is
not possible in these degenerate days to expect a natural development of
a literature when the writers can hope to earn neither glory nor money
by their labors. No Judeo-German litterateur has ever been able to make
more than a scanty living, and that only sporadically, out of his books.
But here came Rabinowitsch, who paid liberally for all the articles
furnished him. That was an innovation from which only good could result.
But the editor not only paid his contributors; he demanded well-written
articles, and he accepted only the best of those. In his annual we find
departments,--Belles Lettres, Criticism, Science, Bibliography, each
being strictly defined in its proper sphere. In the division of belles
lettres we find all the best authors of the time. Here also appeared for
the first time articles from the pen of Frischmann, M. J. Rabinowitsch,
and Perez, who belong among the most talented of Judeo-German writers.
Among the scientific articles there are several of a historical
character, such as 'On the History of the Jews in Podolia,' by Litinski,
'The Massacres of Gonto in Uman and the Ukraine,' by Dr. Skomarowski.
There are several discussions on popular medicine, mainly from the pen
of the indefatigable worker in that direction for more than a quarter of
a century, Dr. Tscherny, and there is one on 'The History of
Judeo-German Literature' by A. Schulmann. The latter is the result of
years of investigation and is remarkably rich in bibliographical data.
It would do honor to any scientific periodical. The part given to
bibliography is of great importance to the student of Judeo-German
literature, as that bibliography is in such a bad condition that it is
not possible for certain periods, especially the older, to give
absolutely correct data. But the most interesting department in the
periodical is that of criticism, which is a new factor in Judeo-German.
Heretofore a few scattered remarks on books might be found in the
_Volksblatt_, but a systematic treatment of that branch of literature
was unknown to the older writers, and would have been of no use to the
readers. But here, in the _Volksbibliothēk_, we not only find this new
departure, but there are not less than eighty pages devoted to it in the
first volume.
Rabinowitsch had published but a short time before a volume entitled
'Schomer's Mischpet,' _i.e._ 'The Judgment of Schaikewitsch,' which
marks a new era. In this book the author passes in review the writings
of Schaikewitsch and his like who have been supplying the people with a
worthless literature. It is written in an entertaining style, in the
form of a judicial proceeding, and has produced to a certain extent the
effect that it was intended to produce: the sale of those books fell off
rapidly, and thus the field was again free for a new and better class of
works. It cannot be said that Rabinowitsch has always been just to the
men under judgment, but on the whole his opinion is sound, and his
verdicts will stand. In his zeal he has sometimes been led to make
sweeping statements, by which he has left some loopholes to the
opponents who have taken him to task. However, criticism from now on
becomes an established institution, and no author can escape a thorough
inspection. The first to follow the example of Rabinowitsch was
Frischmann, who brought out the same year a few sound reviews in the
_Hausfreund_. In the _Volksbibliothēk_ that duty is attended to by
Rabnizki[101] and the editor. They not only criticise unworthy
productions, but also direct the attention to good books, and encourage
young writers if they seem to deserve encouragement. Rabinowitsch's
talent in this direction is shown at its best in his biting sarcasm in
reviewing Perez's poetry[102] (although he is not entirely just to him),
and still better in his witty criticism of the various dictions used in
Judeo-German. Perez, who is a genius of no mean proportions and who has
started out in new directions in literature, has somehow aroused the
displeasure of the critics, who will not put up with his symbolism.
Frischmann has taken him to task for his alleged obscurity and other
imagined faults in a series of masterly caricatures.[103] Frischmann
also does not spare others who incur his wrath, and though one need not
subscribe to his judgments, one cannot help learning useful things by
his anatomies. By these we see, among other things, what progress
Judeo-German is making; for individuality of style must be pronounced
to deserve imitation and parody. Frischmann has also written some pretty
tales of a fantastic nature, such as fairy tales, and a few from actual
life.[104] His stories are all well worth reading, particularly on
account of the excellent style he cultivates. M. J. Rabinowitsch's
stories are mainly translations of his own Russian compositions.[105]
They are all pictures from the Ghetto in Russia and Roumania, not unlike
those by Bernstein and Kompert. They lack the spontaneity of the
Judeo-German writers, but are carefully executed as to form.
By far the most original author of this latest period is Perez,[106]
whose poetical works have been discussed before. With him Judeo-German
letters enter into competition with what there is best in the world's
literature, where he will some day occupy an honorable place. Among his
voluminous works there is not one that is mediocre, not one that would
lose anything of its comprehensibleness by being translated into another
language. Although they at times deal with situations taken from Jewish
life, it is their universal human import that interests him, not their
specifically racial characteristics. It is mere inertia and the desire
to serve his people that keep him in the ranks of Judeo-German writers.
He does not belong there by any criterions that we have applied to his
confreres, who themselves complain that his symbolism is inaccessible to
the masses for whom he pretends to write. While this accusation is
certainly just in the case of some of his works, it cannot be brought up
in many other cases, where, in spite of the allegory, mysticism, or
symbolism underlying his tale, there is a sufficient real residue of
intelligible story for the humblest of his readers. He, too, aims at the
education of his people, but in a vastly different sense from his
predecessors. It is not the material information of mere facts that he
strives for, nor even the broader culture of the schools that he would
substitute for the Jewish lore and religious training, nor is he
satisfied, with Spektor, to rouse the dormant national consciousness.
His sympathies are with humanity at large, and the Jews are but one of
the units that are to be redeemed from the social slavery under which
the wretched of the world groan. It is those who have become timid under
oppression of whatsoever form, who have lost the power of thinking, who
have developed only the power of suffering, who are saints without
knowing it, that Perez loves best. To them he would restore the human
rights so long withheld from them, not by political and social
enfranchisement, but by a consciousness of their human dignity which
must precede all reform. To those to whom belongs the Kingdom of Heaven
must also be given the Kingdom on Earth. While, nevertheless, the
material things are withheld from them, there is no reason why the
spiritual things should not be turned over to them. Perez, for one,
offers gladly all he has, his genius, in the service of the lowly.
Literature, according to him, is not to be a flimsy pastime of the
otiose, but a consolation to those who have no other consolation, a safe
and pleasurable retreat for those who are buffeted about on the stormy
sea of life. For these reasons he writes in Judeo-German and not in any
other language with which he is conversant, and for these same reasons
he prefers to dwell with the downtrodden and the submerged.
To these people he devotes his best energies, and he uses the same care
in filing and finishing his works that he would use if he were writing
for a public trained in the best thoughts of the world and used to the
highest type of literature. His first prose work, though not the first
to be printed, was a small volume entitled 'Well-known Pictures,'
containing three stories: 'The Messenger,' 'What Is a Soul?' and 'The
Crazy Beggar-Student.' In the first he tells of the last errand of an
aged messenger who through cold and rain and snow is making his way on
foot to a distant village where he has to deliver an important document.
He trudges along in hunger and pain, but not a word of complaint escapes
his lips. Through his head pass old recollections of the time when his
wife was still alive, when his children were all gathered about him.
They have left him, but he is sure they are getting on well in their new
homes, for, he consoles himself, bad news travels fast. His strength
gives out, and he seats himself on a heap of snow to take a rest. He
begins to dream of the not distant inn where the wife of the innkeeper
will prepare a warm broth for him. He already sees himself seated at the
table when strange persons enter the room. He soon recognizes them as
his sons, and they embrace him and kiss him impetuously. In vain he
begs them to desist from their choking embraces, for he is old and
feeble. He begs them to be careful with him, for he has been intrusted
with a sum of money that must be brought to its place of destination....
The old messenger was found dead, his hand upon his coat pocket in which
he carried the intrusted document.
The second sketch is of a more cheerful character. It tells of the many
troubles and doubts that a certain boy has ere he discovers what a soul
really is. When very young his father dies, and they tell him that his
soul has flown to heaven. Ever after he imagines the soul to be a bird.
But he is ridiculed for that belief by his teacher's monitor. The
teacher himself is accustomed to maltreat the boys and whip them
mercilessly. He explains to them that the punishment of the body is good
for the soul. What, then, is the soul? the young boy asks himself again.
Then the teacher tells the children many fairy tales about the prenatal
life of the soul, when the angel of life instructs it daily in the
wisdom of the Bible and the Talmud. And that belief is soon taken from
him by his instructor of penmanship, who has a turn to liberal ideas. So
the boy keeps on wavering from belief to doubt and back again until the
age of seventeen or eighteen, when he is studying the Talmud with a new
teacher. Once, in his absence, it occurs to him to get the opinion of
Gütele, his beautiful daughter, who is known by the name of the wise
Gütele, on the question which has been puzzling him so long, and for
which he has suffered so often in his life. With trembling he asks her:
"'They say, Gütele, that you are wise. Tell me, then, I beg you, what is
a soul?'
"She smiled and answered:
"'Truly, I do not know.'
"Only all at once she grew sad, and tears filled her eyes.
"'I just happened to think,' she said, 'when my mother of blessed memory
was alive, my father used to say that she was his soul ... they loved
each other so much!...'
"I do not know how it came to me, only I suddenly took hold of her hand,
and trembling, said:
"'Gütele, would you like to be my soul?'
"She answered me, softly:
"'Yes.'"
From these two soulful, tender stories, we pass to one not less pathetic
and an even more profound psychological study. The beggar-student,
harmlessly insane, has grown faint from two days' fasting and long
poring over the Talmud, and is discussing with himself whether he is
one, or two, or more, and whether he is really himself. He has finally
the same doubts of Wolf the Merchant, who is just reading in the Talmud.
He imagines that three Wolfs are sitting there: one who is trying to
cheat God with his piety; one who cheats his fellow-men in his shop; and
one who beats his wife who furnishes the beggar-student with an
occasional meal. He takes a violent dislike to the third Wolf, and would
like to kill him, but he does not wish to injure the other two Wolfs.
The monologue of this beggar-student, told in about twenty octavo pages,
is one of the most remarkable to be found in any literature: it must be
read in the original to be fully appreciated.
With such a book Perez made his entrance into the field of letters. To
say that his future works show a riper talent would be to place too low
an estimate on his first book, which, in spite of the many excellent
things he has written, still remains among the very best. In 1891, when
Spektor's annual was temporarily suspended, and Rabinowitsch's
periodical had ceased appearing, Perez issued a new periodical, _Die
jüdische Bibliothēk_, which he intended to be a semi-annual, but of
which only three volumes have so far been issued. In the introduction to
the first volume Perez makes a plea for the education of the people, in
which are the following significant words: "Help us educate the poor,
wretched people; leave them not a prey to fanatics, who will suck out
the last trace of blood and the last trace of marrow from their lean
bones. Leave them not in the hands of the visionaries, who will entice
them into wildernesses! Let not boys and school-children lead them by
the nose,--have pity on the people! Let them not fall! The people have
in themselves a certain amount of vital power, a fund of energy. The
people are the carriers of a civilization that the world does not
undervalue, of ideas that would be of great use to it. The people are an
ever living flower.... In daytime, when the sun shines, when the spirit
of man is developing, it revives and unfolds its leaves; but no sooner
does dark night approach than it closes up again, shrivels up, and goes
back into itself.... It is then that it has the appearance of a common
weed ... and when the sun once more rises, some time passes before the
sun seeks out the flower and the flower discovers that the sun
shines.... At night it becomes dusty and soiled, so that the beams of
light cannot penetrate it easily! Help the people to recognize the sun
early in the morning!... But the main thing, means must be devised for
the people to earn a living...."
In conformity with this platform, Perez calls his new periodical a
literary, social, and economical periodical. Not only did the difficult
task of editing this novel magazine devolve on Perez: he had also to
supply the greater part of the literature himself, for there existed no
writers in Judeo-German who could follow him readily in his new
departure. He had to write the greater part of the scientific
department, all of the reviews, all the editorials. In addition, he
furnished most of the poetry and the novels. The few other writers who
published their articles in this magazine owed their development to the
editor's fostering care: they had nearly all been encouraged for the
first time by him. Of his scientific articles particular mention must be
made of his long essay 'On Trades,' which is a popularization of
political economy, brought down to the level of the humblest reader. The
admirable, entertaining style, the aptness of the illustrations, and the
absence of doctrinarianism make it one of the most remarkable
productions in popular science. Still more literary and perfect in form
are his 'Pictures of a Provincial Journey.' It seems that Perez had been
sent into the province for the sake of collecting statistical data on
the condition of the Jews resident there. This essay is apparently a
diary of his experiences on that trip. We do not remember of having read
in any literature any journal approaching this one in literary value.
What makes it particularly interesting is that it is written so that it
will interest those very humble people about whom he is writing. The
picture of misery which he unrolls before us, however saddening and
distressing, is made so attractive by the manner of its telling that one
cannot lay aside the book until one has read the whole seventy quarto
pages.
Perez has written more than fifty sketches, all of them of the same
sterling value as the three described above. Every new one is an
additional gem in the crown he is making for himself. They are all
characterized by the same tender pathos, the same excellence of style,
the same delicacy of feeling. He generally prefers the tragic moments in
life as fit objects for his sympathetic pen, but he has also treated in
a masterly manner the gentle sentiment of love. But it is an entirely
different kind from the romantic love, that he deems worthy of
attention. It is the marital affection of the humblest families, which
is developed under difficulties, strengthened by adversity, checkered by
misfortune; it is the saintliest of all loves that he tells about as no
one before him has ever told. In the same manner he likes to dwell on
all the virtues which are brought out by suffering, which are evolved
through misery and oppression, which are more gentle, more unselfish,
more divine, the lower we descend in the scale of humanity. Nor need one
suppose that in order to show his characters from that most advantageous
side, the author has to resort to disguises of idealization. They are no
better and no worse than one meets every day and all around us; but they
are such as only he knows who is not deterred by the shabbiness of their
dress and the squalor of their homes from making their intimate
acquaintance. They do not carry their virtues for show, they do not give
monetary contributions for charities, they do not join societies for the
promotion of philanthropic institutions, they do not preach on duties to
God and on the future life, they are not even given to the expression of
moral indignation at the sight of sin. But they are none the less
possessed of the finer sentiments which come to the surface only in the
narrower circle of their families, in their relations to their
fellow-sufferers. Not even the eloquent advocate of the people generally
cares to enter that unfamiliar sphere as Perez has done. His affection
for the meanest of his race is not merely platonic. He not only knows
whereof he speaks: he feels it; and thus we get the saddest, the
tenderest, the sweetest stories from the life of the lowliest of the
Jews that have ever been written.
In 1894 Perez published a collective volume, 'Literature and Life,'
which contains, like his periodical, mostly productions of his own. As
they were composed at some later time than those spoken of above, and as
they contain some matter in which he appears in a new rôle, we shall
discuss the volume at some length. In the introduction are given his
general aims, which are not different from those expressed in his former
publication. The final words of it are: "We want the Jew to feel like a
man, to take part in all that is human, to live and strive humanly, and
if he is offended, to feel offended like a man!" The first sketch is
entitled 'In the Basement.' It is the story of the incipient marital
love of a young couple who are so poor that they live in a dark
basement, in a room that serves as a dwelling for several families whose
separate 'rooms' are divided off from each other only by thin, low
partitions. The second is 'Bontsie Silent,' which is given in our
Chrestomathy. It belongs to the same category of sketches as his 'The
Messenger.' It presents, probably better than any other, the author's
conception of the character of the virtues of the long-suffering masses.
Who can read it without being moved to the depth of his heart? There is
no exaggeration in it, no melodrama, nothing but the bitter reality. It
expresses, in a more direct way than anything else he has written, his
faith that the Kingdom of Heaven belongs to the lowly.
The sketch named 'The Fur-Cap' is one of the very few that he has
written as an attack on the Khassidic Rabbi. There is here, however, a
vast difference in the manner of Perez and of Linetzki. While the latter
goes at it in a direct way, with club in hand, and bluntly lets it fall
on the head of the fanatic, Perez has above all in mind the literary
form in which he clothes his attack, and we get from him an artistic
story which must please even if the thrusts be not relished. The Rabbi
never appears in public without his enormous fur-cap, which is really
the insignia of his office. In this story we find the furrier engaged in
a monologue, in which he tells of his delight in making the Rabbi's cap.
He feels that it is he who gives all importance to that dignitary, for
it is the cap that makes the Rabbi. He relates of the transformation of
a common mortal into an awe-inspiring interpreter of God's will on
earth. No important occurrence in life, no birth, marriage, or death,
can take place without the approval of him who wears that fur-cap. It is
the cap, not the man, and his wisdom, that sanctions and legalizes his
various acts. Were it not for the cap, it would not be possible to tell
right from wrong. This fine bit of sarcasm is not a mere attack at the
sect of the Khassidim; it is also meant as an accusation of our whole
social system, with its conventional lies. Perez does not show by his
writings to what particular party he belongs, but he is certainly not
with the conservatives. He is with those who advocate progress in its
most advanced form. He is opposed to everything that means the
enslavement of any class of people. In Russia, where one may not express
freely views which are not in accord with the sentiments of the
governing class, authors have to resort frequently to the form of
allegory, fable, or distant allusion, instead of the more direct way of
writers in constitutional countries. For these reasons pure literature
is generally something more to the Russians than mere artistic
productions. The novel takes frequently the place of a political
pamphlet, of an essay on social questions. The stories of the
Judeo-German authors share naturally the same fate with those of the
Russians, and, consequently, cannot be free of 'tendencies' whenever the
writers have in mind the treatment of subjects which would be dealt with
severely by the censor. Much of the alleged obscurity of Perez's
writings is just due to the desire of avoiding the censor's blue pencil,
and the more dangerous a more direct approach becomes, the more delicate
must be the allegory. The best of that class of literature is contained
in this volume in a series entitled 'Little Stories for Big Men.'
The first of these is called 'The Stagnant Pool.' We are introduced here
to the world of worms who live in the pool, who regard the green scum as
their heaven, and pieces of eggshells that have fallen into it as the
stars and the moon upon it. A number of cows stepping into the pool tear
their heaven and kill all who are not hidden away in the slime. Only one
worm survives to tell the story of the catastrophe, and he suggests to
his fellows that that was not the heaven that was destroyed, that there
is another heaven which exists eternally. For this the narrator was
thought to be insane and was sent to an insane asylum. The second
sketch, 'The Sermon of the Lamps,' in which the hanging lamp instructs a
small table lamp to send its flame heavenwards and not to flicker in
anarchistic fashion, is a fine allegory in which the social order of
things is criticised. There are altogether ten such excellent
allegories, or fables, in the collection, all of the same value. The
last of Perez's articles in the book is a popular discussion of what
constitutes property; it is written in the same style as his scientific
works spoken of before.
From 1894 to 1896 Perez has been issuing small pamphlets of about thirty
octavo pages at irregular intervals. They are called 'Holiday Leaves,'
and bear each a special name appropriate for each particular occasion. A
certain part of these pamphlets has stories and discussions to suit the
occasions for which they are written, but on the whole their contents do
not differ from those of his periodicals. Here again Perez has furnished
most of the matter. The other writers are David Pinski, J. Goido,
Solomon Grossglück, M. J. Freid, who also contributed to his earlier
magazines. It is evident that they follow their master in the general
manner of composition, though at a respectable distance. Of these,
Freid[107] has written some good sketches of animal life. His 'Mursa' is
the story of a bitch who has given birth to some puppies:--her love for
her offspring, her madness when she finds her young ones drowned and
gone, and her death by strangulation. 'Red Caroline, a Novel of Animal
Life,' is a similar story from the life of a cow. They are well told and
display talent in the author. Of the others, Pinski[108] deserves to be
mentioned specially, both on account of the quantity and the quality of
his work. Most of his sketches do not rise above the mediocre, but there
are several that are as good as those of Spektor. The best of his are
those that are entitled 'The Oppressed,' the first of which appeared in
'Literature and Life.' In this he tells of the tyranny exercised by a
shopkeeper on his clerk, and of the timidity of his wretched
subordinate, who merely ekes out an existence by working for him from
daybreak until late at night from one end of the year to the other. The
brutal master, the cowardly, downtrodden clerk, his courageous daughter
who urges her father to leave the store in spite of the shopkeeper's
protest, the scene at home, where his wife has just given birth to a
child, where there is no money for a fire or for medicine,--all this is
drawn dramatically and naturally. Goido[109] began to issue a aeries of
stories in Wilna, in the manner of Perez's 'Holiday Leaves,' and they
attracted Perez's attention, who encouraged him in his literary career.
Regarding his career in America, we shall find him more especially
mentioned in the next chapter.
After the financial failure of the different magazines started since
1887, only Spektor's _Hausfreund_ has been able to survive with some
degree of regularity. The last of this series appeared in 1896, after
which Judeo-German letters seem to have been checked entirely. There
still appear publications by societies, but they are all of a Zionistic
nature. It is hard to foretell what the future of this literature will
be. But having worked out such a variety of styles in the last fifteen
years, it can hardly fail of presenting the same interesting features
with which we have just become acquainted, unless, indeed, the
intelligent classes abandon this field for other European languages and
turn it over to the class of writers who have in view the filling of
their pockets and not the good of the people. Then it will revert to the
chaos into which it was led by Schaikewitsch and the like. In any case
it will reflect the conditions from without; it will flourish in
proportion as the Jews are oppressed by the government and public
opinion; it will disappear when full rights shall have been accorded
them. The latter are not to be hoped for in any appreciably near time,
hence Judeo-German letters will continue to be an anomaly in Russia, in
Galicia, and in Roumania for some time to come.
Although this literature has assumed such great proportions and has
produced a score or more of good writers, it has still remained an
unknown quantity to a large number of the better classes who have not
yet broken entirely with their mother-tongue. They continue looking with
disdain at the popular language and thus make it hard for those who
devote themselves to the service of the people to produce the desired
effect; for, failing to get the support of those whose opinion might
weigh with the masses, the latter are somewhat indifferent themselves.
Another unfortunate factor in the development of this literature is the
petty jealousies of many of the writers, which have again and again kept
them from uniting for concerted action. If in spite of all this it has
been able to hold its own and to evolve to such perfection, it is due to
the untiring, self-sacrificing, noble efforts of Zederbaum, Spektor,
Rabinowitsch, and Perez. All honor to these men!