the money from her hand, and if it's a man, likely as not he asks too
little! If he takes the money, they palm off false coins on him. And if
he is so kind, once in a while, as to take up a piece of chalk, and make
out a bill for me, it is a bill! May they add up my sins, in the other
world, as he adds up my wares!
And as to your husband not having left you a divorce, I am not so very
surprised; my husband has no such easy time of it, and yet he doesn't
divorce me, and why should he? Does he want for anything? He has a nice
lodging, and when he comes home, supper is ready and the bed made at the
proper time, and every Sabbath he gets a clean white shirt! Many's the
time I've begged and prayed of him to go to all devils--not he! Do you
think he'd budge an inch? And when I scold him and throw things at his
head, he gets into a corner, makes a pitiful face, brings crocodile
tears into his eyes, and I am so foolish as to relent, I give him food
and drink, and off he goes.
And as to what you say about your lawsuit, you know, sister Hannah, I
have quite a celebrated lawyer, because, for my sins, I have a
never-ending case against cooks, the hussies! I assure you, Hannah'li,
servants such as we have in Lublin are not to be found anywhere! How
shall I describe them? Always swilling and stuffing--and they steal
anything they can lay hands on, and run away before the quarter is out;
and then they lodge a complaint against me, because I haven't paid them
a quarter's wages, and in court, nowadays, they don't make a particle of
difference between a servant-girl and a mistress, and I have to stand
with her side by side! I mayn't open my mouth to say a word, otherwise
the judge rings a bell and imposes a fine up to three rubles. So I never
go into court alone, but have engaged an excellent lawyer, whose mouth
drops sulphur and pitch, and he sees me through.
He once told me himself that the judge had frequently wished to imprison
me on some ridiculous pretext, such as tearing a girl's hair or giving
her a slap! But he cannot do it, because my advocate has all the
law-books in his head, knows all the laws, every single one, chooses out
the best for me, and flings them in the judge's face, so that he sits
there like a dummy and, willy-nilly, has to write "Acquitted!"
And no sooner had I read your letter, and found the first one in my
husband's pocket, than I hastened to my lawyer, and he received me most
politely, and asked me to be seated on the plush sofa.
I told him your whole story from Aleph to Taw, down to every detail; and
he listened attentively to it all, although the anteroom was crowded
with people waiting. He listened and walked up and down the room.
Then he sighed and said that according to the laws a daughter had equal
rights with a son and should inherit a share! So far, good! But there is
the following hitch: A wife cannot summons anyone without her husband's
knowledge, because she is under his jurisdiction, and must be given
power of attorney by him.
And when I told him that you, unhappily, were a grass-widow, that your
husband had deserted you, and that, in my opinion, you were free to do
as you pleased, he planted himself in front of me and shook his
head--that meant: By no means!
And he went to a book-case, took out one book after the other, looked
in, put it down, looked in and put it down, and so on with any number of
books, little and big and bigger. One, heaven forgive me, was as fat as
a pig. And in this one he apparently found what he was in search of, for
he stood over it a long time.
And then he told me, that if, after five years from the date of your
desertion, you bring him a paper from the justice of your town to
certify that your husband has not once shown himself in those five
years, he, the lawyer, will put in a plea for you in court, and the
court will give you permission to summons your brother.
This is what he said--I give it you word for word.
I offered him a ruble, and he made a wry face--evidently, not enough;
but he took it. Send me the ruble, Hannah'li Krön, as soon as you can,
for trade is slack, and tar is a drug in the market.
To return to the matter in hand:
It is what I always said and I say it again: the holy Torah (and _their_
law, lehavdîl, of course, also) has handed us over to the mercy of
bandits! A man, a dummy, a bolster, can divorce his wife when he likes,
either in person or by proxy; and a worthy woman, like myself, for
instance, cannot get rid of an idler like mine for love or money!
If we go together to a family gathering, he is stuffed with fish and
meat and all good things, and I--get a cup of chicory and milk!
When he sits in the booth at Tabernacles, one has to send him the best
of everything, and I live on bones!
I share the three weeks, nine days, and all the fasts, but the Rejoicing
of the Law is _his_!
He goes to a Rebbe, and they give him honey with apples! And what will
Paradise, when it comes to that, mean for _me_? I shall be the idiot's
footstool! He will sit in a grandfather's chair, and I shall be his
footstool!
In this world he is a feeble creature and is afraid of me, but how it
will be in the other world, don't ask me! I tell you plainly, if he
gives me the least shove with his foot, the Almighty alone knows what
will happen!
To return: What would you get by a divorce? Believe me, all dogs have
the same face! Not one of them is worth a dreier! You know my sister
Miriam suffered through her husband ten years before she could obtain a
divorce, and then she had to leave him her money and her clothes--in a
word, all she had! A nice thing, wasn't it?
She married again and was out of the frying-pan into the fire: another
idler to feed! She wanted a second divorce, he was satisfied, but she
couldn't afford to pay for it!
In short, dear Hannah, our mother Eve sinned and we suffer for it! And
we always shall suffer! For there is no escape from a husband, even in
the grave.
We have been sold to be servants and slaves in the other world, too! So
it was aforetime, so it is now, and so it will be in the future world!
One has to suffer! For what is to be done, if the Almighty wills it so?
Therefore, dear Hannah, have faith in God, blessed is He! Keep well and
forget your husband, who has probably forgotten you. That is always the
way when they go to America.
At first they write honeyed letters and send money; then, less and less;
then they write and send money once a year--then, once in seven
years--they don't need their wives out there, they have other women,
better, livelier!
May I be forgiven for saying so, but in Lublin, in the Jewish quarter,
there isn't a house without a grass-widow! Wash your hands of him, I
tell you, and forget! Imagine yourself a real widow or a divorced woman!
Turn your attention to the onions. May His blessed Name send you success
in business and preserve you whichever way you turn. Such is the wish of
your relative.
(The signature is undecipherable.)
I beg of you to send me the ruble as soon as possible, because my
husband, gorger and tippler that he is, is angry with me for having
given it.
(The same undecipherable signature.)
SECOND LETTER
To my sister Hannah:
First, my dear sister, I let you know that we are all well, except my
wife, Eva Gütel, who (not of you be it said!) is never free from cough
for an instant, and who, no sooner is the wedding over, must go to
Warsaw to consult a doctor.
I send you enclosed an invitation to the wedding. Mind you come and
enjoy yourself! Only do not, for mercy's sake, spoil my daughter's
happiness, and keep all contentions till the wedding is over.
You need not feel called upon to bring any present. If, however, you are
troubled about appearances, you are sure to find something in the house
that will do. I shall not take it amiss. Blood is thicker than water and
a sister is a sister.
And as to what you say about having no clothes to come in, that is
nonsense. You can borrow a dress of some one or other either there or
here.
And as to what you say about not being able to comfort yourself for the
child that has died--you know, dear sister, "He gave and He hath taken
away!"
Children are a pledge from God, and if God wishes to take back the
deposit, we must not even brood over it and try to think why. God
forbid!
And as to your being afraid of your husband finding out that the child
is dead and breaking with you altogether, that is another useless
anticipation. Believe me, sister, it is quite foolish, because if it is
true, as people say, that Shmùel Mösheh is Shmùel Mösheh no longer--he
is treading other paths--it will be all the same, child or no child. He
doesn't want you and you cannot hold to him!
And if, as I trust, that is all an invention, a calumny, and if, as I
firmly believe, Shmùel Mösheh is still Shmùel Mösheh, the learned and
pious Jew, then you have nothing to fear! On the contrary, with half the
expense it will be much easier to have you out to join him, and you will
live in peace and plenty.
And as to your having had no news of him for so long, is it a wonder? I
believe it is across the sea! How many ships, preserve us, are wrecked
on the way; how many postmen lose their lives on such an errand! And
perhaps the ships have to pass the spot where, as the Book of the
Covenant says, the waters stand on an heap, and there is peril of death.
Thank His dear Name that your Shmùel Mösheh crossed in safety! I
consider this fleeing to lands beyond the sea a disgrace and a shame, it
is a sign of want of trust, because he who trusts knows that God helps
whom He will, and he shrinks from endangering both body and soul. For
they say that America is as dangerous to the soul as the sea to the
body. They say, people throw off their Jewishness on board ship as soon
as the sea gives them a toss. They soon begin to eat bread baked by
Gentiles, forbidden food, to dress German fashion, women wear wigs,
even, it has been said, their own hair. And the proof that America is
dangerous to the soul is that there is not one "good Jew" in all
America! And I cannot imagine how one would exist there, where one could
get advice in questions of Parnosseh, or if one were ill, or anything
else happened to one. I tell you that the man who goes into Satan's
domain of his own accord is responsible for his soul, for he is like a
foolish bird flying into a net. And particularly a learned Jew, because
the greater the man, the greater the danger, the more is the Evil One
set on his destruction, and decoys him with either riches or beautiful
women; the Evil One has tools for the work at hand.
And, therefore, my advice to you is, so long as you do not know what is
happening there, forget! If you earn your livelihood with the onions,
well and good, and if, heaven forbid, you cannot, I can give you other
advice. If you come to the wedding, I will make it all right between you
and my wife. We are, after all, one family, and you know that my wife,
Eva Gütel, is really very good-natured; she is sure to forgive you, and
when all is smooth again and she goes to Warsaw, after the wedding, then
you will remain here and be house-mistress. And when, please God, she
comes back cured, she will still find a place for you at the table and a
bed in the house. Times are bad, but a sister is a sister, and one cuts
the herring into thinner slices.
But beside all that we have a mighty God--shall He not be able to feed
one of His creatures?--and that a woman!
Nonsense!
And, for goodness' sake, come to the wedding in time, so that you may be
able to lend Eva Gütel a hand. It is no more than one has a right to ask
a sister-in-law. You would not wish, as things are nowadays, to have us
hire extra help? Only, be sure and let everything I have said to you
about the future remain between ourselves. Eva Gütel is not to know what
I have written to you. The thing ought to come of itself, quite of
itself. You know, Eva Gütel does not like one to interfere in domestic
concerns--and I am sure, the thing _will_ arrange itself. A woman is a
woman even if she wears a top-hat.
That is why I write to you when Eva Gütel is not at home. She has gone
to engage the Badchan[130] and the musician; I shall not even tell her I
sent you an invitation: let her imagine you were so good and so
right-thinking as to come of your own accord! And may He whose Name is
blessed comfort you together with all that mourn in Israel, and spread
the wings of His compassion over all abandoned women. Amen, may it seem
good in His sight.
Sister Hannah, whether you stay where you are or remain with us for
good, come to the wedding! You simply _must_! And you shall not repent
it! It will be a fine wedding! It may be that he himself, may his days
and years increase, will be present. It will cost me a fortune, but it
is worth it! You see that such a wedding is not to be missed?
From me, your brother
MENACHEM MENDIL.
My wife Eva Gütel has just come in from market and--a token that heaven
wills it so--she tells me that I am not to hide my letter from her, that
she bears you no grudge. She advises you to sell the onions, buy a
dress, and come to the wedding looking like other people, as befits the
bride's aunt.
She also says that no present is necessary, and that one can trade in
onions here, too.
I repeat that my wife Eva Gütel is both kind-hearted and wise, and that,
if you will only not be obstinate, everything will come right.
You will see!
Your brother
M. M.
4
An unfinished letter from Hannah to her husband.
Good luck to you, my dear, faithful husband, good luck to you!
Here's good news from us, and may I ever hear the like from you. Amen,
may it be His will! We are, indeed, as you say, united for all time, in
this world and the other!
I let you know, first, dear husband, that my brother Menachem Mendil and
his wife Eva Gütel (may they live to see the days of the Messiah!)
forgave me everything, and sent for me in a lucky hour to their
daughter's wedding--Beile-Sasha's wedding.
It was a very fine one, fine as fine can be! Praise God that I was found
worthy to see it! There was every kind of meat, birds and beef; and
fish--just fish, and stuffed fish--and all sorts of other dishes, beside
wine and brandy--something of everything.
And the whole thing was such a success--so elegant! And I myself cooked
the meat, stuffed the fish, made the stew, sent up the dinner, and also
saw to the marketing beforehand.
I was house-mistress! I was waitress! I did not go merely to enjoy
myself!
I sold my stock of onions, made myself a dress of sorts, and went to my
relations, agreeably to their wish, a whole week before the wedding;
because there was no one to do the work; the bride was taken up with her
clothes, she spent the time with the tailor, the shoemaker, and even the
jeweller up to the very last minute.
And poor Eva Gütel, my sister-in-law, has a cough. And they say her
liver is not what it should be.
So I was everybody--_before_ the wedding and _after_ the wedding, only
not at the wedding, during which I felt very tired and done up. I sat in
a corner and cried for joy, because I had been counted worthy to marry
my brother's child, and--because she had such an elegant wedding! And I
was not turned out in a hurry when it was over, either.
Directly after it, my sister-in-law, health and strength to her, started
to consult a doctor in Lublin as to which doctor she ought to see in
Warsaw.
Then she left for Warsaw and went the round of all the celebrated
doctors. Thence she travelled to some other place to drink the
waters--mineral waters they are called--and during the whole six months
of her absence, I was mistress of the house.
May the Almighty remember it to them for good and reward them!
There was no cook--I did the cooking. And I drank delight out of it as
from a well!
In the first place, I had no time for thinking and brooding, and was
thereby saved from going mad, or even melancholy! And where, indeed,
should I have found it?
Business, thank heaven, was brisk. The public-house is always full and
the counter strewn with the gold and silver of Jews and Gentiles,
lehavdîl.
And my sister-in-law Eva Gütel's stuffed fish are celebrated for miles
round, and there the people sit and eat and drink.
And if ever I _began_ to think, and _wanted_ to think, Beile-Sasha, long
life to her, soon reminded me of where I was! And she has sharp eyes,
bless her, nothing escapes them!
And so it went merrily on--and I was so overjoyed at being
house-mistress there that once I spat blood--but only once.
Menachem Mendil saw it, and he told me to be sure and behave as if
nothing had happened, because, if people knew of it, they would avoid
his house. Yössil the inn-keeper over the way would soon cry:
Consumption! and there would be an end of it, and grass growing down our
side of the street.
But Beile-Sasha is the cleverer of the two, she soon discovered that it
was not consumption, but that I had swallowed a fish-bone, and it
scratched my throat, and so, that I should not suffocate, she gave me a
blow between the shoulders to loosen it, and, all for love's sake, such
a blow that the fish-bone went down--only _my_ bones ached a bit.
But all's well that ends well--and Eva Gütel has come back from drinking
the waters!
She has come back, thank God, in the best of health and spirits--a sight
for sore eyes!--and she has brought presents, the most beautiful
presents, for herself, for her husband, for her daughter and her
son-in-law--lovely things! But there was nothing for me; she said that
I, heaven forbid, was no servant to be given presents and wages. Had I
not been house-mistress?
Had not Eva Gütel herself told me fifty times that I was mistress, and
could do as I liked?
And no sooner was Eva Gütel back, than she discovered that Menachem
Mendil had not been near the Rebbe the whole time, and she wrung her
fingers till the bones cracked, and immediately sent me out to the
market-place to hire a conveyance.
Menachem Mendil drove to the holy man that same day.
And next morning, Eva Gütel gave me some good advice, which was to make
up my bundle and go--because she was there again and had Beile-Sasha to
help her. I should be fifth wheel to the cart and might go mad from
having nothing to do. She advised me to go back whence I came or to stay
in the place and do as I thought best. She would not be responsible,
either way.
I had slept my last night in her house.
The next one I spent walking the streets with my bundle under my arm.
You see, my dear husband, that I am doing very well. You need send me no
more money, as you used to do. You had better give it to Leeb the reader
to buy you a Talmud, or to Genendil-Sophie to buy you some shirts. And
mind she tries them on you herself, to see how they fit--is it not
America?
You see, my dear, good husband, I harbor no more unjust suspicions. I
never say now that Genendil stole either the spoon or my husband. I
know it is not her fault, and I am convinced that His blessed Name only
meant to do us a kindness when He brought you and Leeb the reader
together on the ship, so that he should take care of you--it is all just
as you wrote. There is only one thing that will never be as you think.
You may jump out of your skin, but you will never send for the child, to
take it away from me to America. Because our child, for your sake and
for that of your pious forefathers, has been gone this long time; it has
been hidden somewhere in the burial ground, in a little room without a
door, without a window. You may cry to heaven, but you shall not know
where its little bones lie! No tombstone, nothing to mark it--nothing at
all! Go, look for the wind in the fields!
Askerah[131] has taken it under her wing.
And since you have such a wonderful memory, and remember everything I
said and everything I did, I will tell you a story which you may
recollect. It is a story about a shawl I did not know what to do with.
Should I put it on and run for the doctor for the child, or stop up the
broken pane with it to keep the snow from blowing in, or wrap it round
the child, because the poor thing was suffocating with its throat? And
it was cold, bitterly cold. I ran to and fro several times, from the
window to the cradle, to the door, and back from the door to the
window--I tell you, I ran! I think, my dear husband, you will not forget
that moment, because, as you say, we are bound one to the other, you to
me and both of us to the child, and now the child is not there, we two
may as well go, too. Well, what will Genendil say? To tell the truth, I
have decided to let my hair grow and dress as they dress in America, and
do you know that, beside this, I have a sweet voice and can chant all
the prayers, and now, since I have been at my brother Menachem Mendil's,
I have heard drunken peasants sing all sorts of songs--and I have
learned them and I sing every whit as well as Genendil, if not better;
and at night, when I slept under the open sky, the Queen of Sheba came
and taught me to dance--and a whole night long I danced with the Queen
of Sheba in the eye of the moon.
And you, my dear Shmùel Mösheh, have made a bad bargain, for I am better
than Genendil. Because I remember quite well that she had two moles, one
on the left ear and one on the right cheek--and rather a crooked nose.
And I, you know, have a perfectly clear skin, without a mole anywhere.
You thought that only Genendil could sing and dance every Friday night,
and let her hair grow, that other people were not up to that! But I am
not angry with you, heaven forbid! Hold to her! It is enough for me to
have the child's grave. I shall go and build myself a little house
there, and sit in it through the night till the cock crows. I shall talk
to the child, very low and softly, about his father Shmùel Mösheh, and
that will delight him! And if you come yourself, or send anyone, to
fetch the child, I shall scratch out his eyes with my nails, because the
child is mine, not Genendil's--may her name and her remembrance perish,
and may you and she.....
* * * * *
The letter is unfinished; it was found together with the other letters
in the pocket of the mad Hannah.
XXI
IN THE POND
Once upon a time there was a pond. It had a corner to itself, and lay
quite apart from the rest of the field where beasts were wont to graze
and herd-boys to fling stones.
A high bank, set with briars, screened it from the wind, and it had a
slimy, shiny green covering, in which the breeze tore a hole once in
twelve months. In the pond there dwelt (according to the order of
nature) a colony of quite small worms which fed on still smaller ones.
The pond was neither long nor wide, not even deep, and if the little
worms could neither discover a bottom nor swim to shore, they had only
the thick slime and the water-weeds and the fallen twigs to thank for
it.
The geography of the pond was in its infancy.
Conceit, on the other hand, flourished, and fancy had it all her own way
beneath the green covering--and the two together sat spinning and
weaving.
And they wove between them a legend of the beginning of things, a truly
worm-like tradition.
The pond is the great sea, and the four streams of Paradise flow into
it. Hiddekel brings gold (that is the slime in which they find their
nourishment), and the other three bring flowers (the water-weeds among
which they play hide-and-seek on holidays), pearls (frog-pawn), and
corals (the little orange fungi on the rotting twigs).
The green cover, the slimy cap on the surface of the pond, is the heaven
stretched out over the ocean, a special heaven for their own particular
world. Fragments of egg-shell, which have fallen into it, play the part
of stars, and a rotten pumpkin does duty for the sun.
The chance stones flung into the pond by the herd-boys are, of course,
hailstones flung by heaven at the head of sinners!
And when their heaven opened, and a few beams of the real sun penetrated
to a wormy brain, then they believed in hell!
But life in the pond was a pleasant thing!
People were satisfied with themselves and with one another.
When one lives in the great sea, one is as good as a fish oneself.
One worm would call another "Tench," "Pike;" "Crocodile" and "Leviathan"
would be engraved on tombstones.
"Roach" was the greatest insult, and "Haddock" not to be forgiven, even
on the Day of Atonement.
Meanwhile, astronomy, poetry, and philosophy blossomed like the rose!
The bits of egg-shell were counted over and over again, till everyone
was convinced of the absurdity of the attempt.
Romantic poets harped on the Heavenly Academy in a thousand different
keys.
Patriots were likened to the stars, stars to ladies' eyes, and the
ladies themselves to Paradise--or else to Purgatory! Philosophy
transferred the souls of the pious to the rotten pumpkin.
In short, nothing was wanting!