ANATHEMA
_A Tragedy in Seven Scenes_
BY
LEONID ANDREYEV
AUTHORIZED TRANSLATION BY
HERMAN BERNSTEIN
New York
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
1910
"_I myself shall bring them bread and milk....
Children are so tender.... They need so little;
they eat a little crust of bread and they have
enough, they drink a cup of milk and they know no
thirst any longer. Then they sing...._"--DAVID
LUIZER.
_To_
NATHAN STRAUS
WHO SO GENEROUSLY SAVED THE LIVES OF
THOUSANDS OF CHILDREN
THE TRANSLATION OF THIS WORK
IS HEARTILY DEDICATED
BY
HERMAN BERNSTEIN
CHARACTERS
GUARDIAN OF THE ENTRANCES
ANATHEMA
DAVID LEIZER
SARAH, _his wife_
NAUM} _their children_
ROSA}
IVAN BEZKRAINY}
SONKA ZITRON } _tradespeople_
PURIKES
DANCING-MASTER
YOUNG MAN
PALE MAN
ORGAN-GRINDER
WANDERER
ABRAHAM KHESSIN
WEEPING WOMAN
WOMAN WITH CHILD IN HER ARMS
DRUNKARD
SONKA'S LITTLE GIRL
LEIBKE
_Musicians, Blind People, Crowd_
ANATHEMA
PROLOGUE.
_The scene represents a wild, deserted place, the slope of a mountain
rising to infinite heights. In the rear of the stage, halfway up the
mountain, huge iron gates, tightly closed, indicate the boundary of
the world as we conceive it. Beyond the iron gates, which oppress the
earth with their enormous weight, in silence and in mystery, dwells the
Beginning of every being, the Supreme Wisdom of the universe._
_At the foot of the Gates stands Someone guarding the entrances,
leaning upon a long sword, perfectly motionless. Garbed in wide
clothes, which are like stone in the motionlessness of their folds and
creases, He hides His face beneath a dark cover, and is Himself the
greatest of mysteries. Standing on the boundary separating two worlds,
he is dual in his make-up;--in appearance a man, in reality a spirit.
An arbitrator between two worlds, He is like unto a huge shield, which
gathers all bolts,--all looks, all entreaties, all expectations,
reproaches, and curses. The bearer of two elements, He wraps his speech
in silence, which is like the silence of the iron gates, and sometimes
in human words._
_Amidst the rocks, looking around on all sides strangely and shyly,
appears Anathema, someone accursed. Clinging to the grey rocks,
himself grey, cautious and flexible, like a serpent seeking a hole,
he goes stealthily and quietly to the Guardian of the Entrances,
desiring to strike him with an unexpected blow. But he is frightened
by his own audacity and, jumping to his feet, laughs defiantly and
maliciously. Then he sits down on a rock, with an air of freedom and
independence, and throws small cobblestones at the feet of the Guardian
of the Entrances;--cunning, he conceals his fear beneath the mask of
raillery and slight audacity. In the faint, grey, almost colorless
light, the head of the accursed one seems enormous; especially large
is his high forehead, which is furrowed by wrinkles of fruitless
reflections and unsolvable eternal problems. Anathema's thin beard is
perfectly grey; his hair, once jet black, is also greyish, rising on
his head in disordered tufts. Restless in his movements, he is vainly
trying to conceal his alarm and his purposeless haste, which are
forever devouring him. Endeavoring to emulate the proud stillness of
the Guardian of the Entrances, he grows quiet for an instant in the
pose of proud majesty, but the very next moment, in painful quest after
the eternally elusive, he wriggles in mute spasms, like a worm under
foot. And in his questions he is rapid and impetuous like a whirlwind,
drawing strength and fury in his mad whirl...._
* * * * *
ANATHEMA.
You are still here on guard? And I thought you were away,--even a
chained dog has his moments of rest or sleep, even though the whole
world be his kennel and Eternity his master! Is Eternity afraid of
thieves? But do not be angry. I have come to you as a good friend and
I implore humbly: Open the heavy Gates for an instant and allow me to
have a glimpse of Eternity. You dare not? But perhaps the mighty gates
have cracked from age, and the unfortunate, honest Anathema could peep
into the narrow cleft, without disturbing any one,--show me it with a
sign. Softly, on my belly, will I crawl over, I will glance at it and
crawl back,--and He will not know. But I shall know and become a God,
become a God, a God! I have so long wanted to become a God--and would I
be a poor God? Look!
_He assumes a haughty pose, but immediately bursts into laughter. Then
he sits down calmly on a flat rock and, folding his legs under him,
takes out dice. He mutters something to himself, yet loud enough to be
heard by the Guardian of the Entrances._
If you don't want to you need not do it,--I shall not fight with you.
Have I come here for that purpose? I simply roamed about the world and
came here by mere accident--I have nothing to do, so I roam about. And
now I am going to throw dice. If He were not so serious, I would have
invited Him, too,--but He is too proud, too proud, and He does not
understand the pleasure of the game. Six, eight, twenty--correct! It's
always correct when the Devil plays, even when he plays honestly....
David Leizer ... David Leizer ...
_Turning to the Guardian of the Entrances, he
speaks freely._
Do you know David Leizer? You surely do not know him. He is a sick and
foolish old Jew, whom no one knows, and even your Master has forgotten
about him. So says David Leizer, and I cannot help believing him--he is
a foolish, but honest man. He is the man I have won just now with my
dice--you saw it: six, eight, twenty.... One day I met David Leizer by
the seashore, when he was questioning what the waves were complaining
of; and I liked him. He is a foolish, but honest man, and if he should
be well tarred and lighted, he would make a brilliant torch for my
feast.
_Chatting with feigned ease, he steps over softly
to the rock nearest the Guardian._
No one knows David Leizer, but I shall make him famous, I shall make
him mighty and great--it is very possible that I shall even make him
immortal! You do not believe me? No one believes the wise Anathema,
even when he speaks the truth--and who loves the truth more than
Anathema does? Perhaps you? You silent dog, you who have stolen the
truth from the world, you who have barred the entrances with iron!...
_He rushes furiously toward the Guardian of the
Entrances, but retreats from the stern, motionless
Guardian, with a shriek of horror and pain. And he
speaks plaintively, falling with his grey chest
upon the grey rock._
Oh, the Devil's hair is grey! Weep, you who have grown fond of
Anathema! Wail and grieve, you who are striving toward Truth, who are
honoring wisdom--Anathema's hair is grey! Who will help the son of
Dawn? He is alone in the universe. Wherefore, O Great One, have you
frightened the fearless Anathema--he did not intend to strike you, he
only wanted to approach you. May I come over to you? Tell me.
_The Guardian of the Entrances is silent, but to
Anathema it seems that he hears something in the
silence. Outstretching his serpentine neck, he
shouts passionately_.
Louder! Louder! Are you silent, or did you speak? I do not understand.
The accursed one has a sensitive ear and discerns the shades of certain
words in your silence; he feels a vague movement of thoughts in your
motionlessness,--but he does not understand. Did you speak or are you
silent? Did you say: "Come," or did it only sound so to me?
THE GUARDIAN.
Come.
ANATHEMA.
You said it, but I dare not come up to you.
GUARDIAN.
Come.
ANATHEMA.
I am afraid.
_He advances toward the Guardian irresolutely,
in zigzag movements; lies down on his belly and
crawls, wailing with longing and fear._
Oh, I the prince of darkness, wise and powerful, and yet you see--I am
crawling on my belly like a dog. And I am doing it because I love you,
I want to kiss the hem of your cloak. But why does my old heart ache
so much? Tell me, Omniscient.
GUARDIAN.
The accursed one has no heart.
ANATHEMA.
_Advancing._
Yes, yes. The accursed has no heart, his chest is mute and motionless
like the grey rock which does not breathe. Oh, if Anathema had a heart,
you would have destroyed him long ago by his sufferings, even as you
destroy the foolish man. But Anathema has a mind that is searching for
the Truth, unprotected against your blows--spare it.... Here I am at
your feet, reveal your face to me. Only for an instant, as brief as the
flash of lightning,--reveal your face to me.
_He cringes servilely at the feet of the Guardian, not daring, however,
to touch his cloak. He is vainly endeavoring to lower his eyes, which
are quick and searching, sharp, flashing like coals beneath grey
ashes. The Guardian is silent and Anathema continues his fruitless and
persistent entreaties._
Do you not want to do it? Then call the name of Him who is beyond the
Gates. Call it in a soft voice, and no one will hear it; only I will
know it, the wise Anathema, longing for Truth. Is it not true that
it consists of seven letters? Or of six? Or of one? Tell me. Only one
letter--and you will save the accursed one from eternal tortures, and
the earth, which I am tearing with my nails, will bless you. You may
say it softly, softly, you may only breathe it, and I shall understand
it, and I shall bless you.... Tell me.
_The Guardian is silent, and Anathema, after some
hesitation, full of fury, crawls away slowly,
growing holder with every step._
It is not true that I love you.... It is not true that I wanted to kiss
the hem of your cloak.... I feel sorry for you, if you believed me....
I simply have nothing to do, so I roam about in the world.... I have
nothing to do, so I question the passers-by about this and that,--about
things I know myself.... I know everything!
_He rises, shakes himself like a dog that has just
come out of the water, and choosing the highest
rock, stands up there in a haughty, actorlike pose._
I know everything. With my wisdom I have penetrated the meaning of all
things, the laws of numbers are known to me, and the book of Fates is
open to me. At one glance I embrace life, I am the axis in the circle
of time, which whirls rapidly. I am great, I am mighty, I am immortal,
and man is in my power. Who will dare struggle with the Devil? The
strong, I kill, and the weak I force to whirl about in an intoxicating
dance, a mad dance, a devilish dance. I have poisoned all the sources
of life, on all its roads I have built ambuscades.... Do you hear the
voice of those who curse? The voice of those who are exhausted under
the burden of evil? Of those who dare in vain? Of those who long
endlessly and terribly?
GUARDIAN.
I do.
ANATHEMA.
_Laughing._
The name! Call the name! Illumine the way for the Devil and for man.
All in the world want goodness, but know not where to find it; all in
the world want fife, but meet only death. The name! Call the name of
goodness, call the name of eternal life. I am waiting!
GUARDIAN.
There is no name for that which you ask, Anathema. There is no number
by which to count, no measure by which to measure, no scales by which
to weigh that which you ask, Anathema. Every one who has said the word,
Love, has lied. Every one who has said the word, Wisdom,--has lied. And
even he who has uttered the word, God,--has lied with the greatest and
most terrible lie. For there is no number, no measure, no scale, no
name for that which you ask, Anathema.
ANATHEMA.
Where shall I go? Tell me.
GUARDIAN.
Where you are going.
ANATHEMA.
What shall I do? Tell me.
GUARDIAN.
What you are doing.
ANATHEMA.
You speak through silence--can I understand the language of your
silence? Tell me.
GUARDIAN.
No. Never. My face is open, but you see it not. My speech is loud,
but you hear it not. My commands are clear, but you know them not,
Anathema. And you shall never see, and you shall never hear, and you
shall never know, Anathema, unfortunate spirit, deathless in numbers,
eternally alive in measures and in weights, but as yet unborn to life.
ANATHEMA.
_Tormented._
Never?
GUARDIAN.
Never.
_Anathema leaps down from the rocks, and tosses about madly, devoured
by grief. Clinging to the rocks, he embraces them tenderly and then
pushes them away angrily; he moans bitterly. He turns his face to West
and East, to North and South of the earth, flourishing his arms, as
if calling the earth to wrath and vengeance. But the grey rocks are
silent, West and East are silent, North and South are silent, and in
stern motionlessness, heavily leaning on his sword, stands the Guardian
of the Entrances._
ANATHEMA.
Rise, O Earth! Rise, O Earth, and gird your sword, O man. There will be
no peace between you and Heaven; the earth is becoming the abode of
darkness and death, and the Prince of Darkness ascends to his throne
upon it--from now on and forever. I am going to you, David. I will hurl
your sad life towards the proud heaven like a stone from a sling--and
the foundations of the high heavens will tremble. My slave, David! With
your lips I will proclaim the truth about the fate of man.
_He turns to the Guardian of the Entrances._
And you!...
_He becomes silent, bashfully, confused by the
Silence. He stretches himself lazily, as from
tediousness, and mutters in a voice loud enough to
be heard by the Guardian of the Entrances._
But am I not roaming about, because I have nothing to do? I have been
here, and now I shall go there. Are there not plenty of roads for the
gay Anathema, who is fond of healthy laughter and a carefree jest?
Six.... That means that I bring to David a fortune which he does not
expect.... Eight.... That means that David Leizer is healing the sick
and reviving the dead. Twenty.... Correct! That means ... That means
that David and I come to express our gratitude. David Leizer, the
great, the powerful, the immortal David Leizer and I.... I am going.
_Anathema departs._
_Silence. The rocks are silent; the mute Gates,
pressing the earth with their enormous weight, are
silent; the Guardian, petrified, is silent._
_Silence. But did not Anathema's footsteps awaken
an alarming, resounding echo? One, two--some heavy
steps are heard coming. It is like one footstep,
but many people are coming; they are silent, but
the silence is already quivering. A momentary
confusion of sounds, of helplessness and tremulous
outbursts, and suddenly the silence breaks out in
high yellow flames of fire: somewhere below, in
the invisible distance, on earth, long trumpets,
carried by hands uplifted high, are blaring in
rebellious, brasslike tones,--their defiant cry of
revolt is turned both to earth and to Heaven._
_One, two,--now it is clear that a crowd is moving;
its monstrous voice, its blended and separate sobs,
its noisy and stormy speech is heard; and below,
in the labyrinth from broken and dark passages,
the first distinct sound rings out: "Da-a-vid!" It
grows more distinct, rises higher, and now it soars
overhead_-_on the wings of this brass fanfare,
above the heavy stamping of the marching feet._
_"Da-a-vid! Da-a-a-vid! Da-a-a-vid!"_
_The sounds blend harmoniously. They become the
song of millions of people. The trumpets are
blaring, exhausted; they call hoarsely with their
brass voices--_
_Does the Guardian of the Entrances hear them? The
grey rocks are covered with moans; passionate sobs
rise to His feet, but the Guardian is motionless,
the Guardian is speechless, and the iron Gates are
mute._
_The abyss crashes._
_With one blow, as if splitting the earth, a brass
roar and shout breaks forth,--and out of the
fragments, like a spring from a rock that is split
by lightning, a soft, harmonious, bright melody
comes forth._
_Then it dies out._
_Silence. Immobility. Expectation, expectation,
expectation._
CURTAIN
ACT ONE
_The south of Russia. A hot summer midday. A wide road near the end
of a large, thickly populated city. Starting from the left corner of
the stage, the road crosses it diagonally, turning in the rear of the
stage to the right. Two high stone posts, of ancient construction,
dilapidated and slightly bent, indicate the boundary of the city. On
the side of the city line, at the right post, there is a deserted,
once yellow sentry-box, the plaster fallen of in spots and the windows
tightly boarded and nailed up. On the sides of the road there are
several small shops made of cheap wood, separated from one another
by narrow passages--in the desperate and ineffectual struggle for
existence the little shops seem to be clambering stupidly upon one
another. The people are dealing in all sorts of merchandise: candies,
sunflower seeds, cheap sausages, herrings; each shop has a small,
dirty counter, through which a pipe with two faucets stands out
prominently--one of them for soda-water, at a penny a glass,--the other
for seltzer. One of the little shops belongs to David Leizer; the
others--to the Greek Purikes, to the young Jewess Sonka Zitron, and to
the Russian, Ivan Bezkrainy, who, in addition to his business, mends
shoes and rubbers; he is the only one who has "real noblemen's" cider
for sale._
_The sun is burning mercilessly and the few small trees, with their
leaves curled up from the heat, are pining for rain; the dusty road is
deserted. Beyond the posts, where the road is turning toward the right,
there is a high precipice--the dust-covered tops of trees are seen here
and there in the descending distance. And embracing the entire horizon,
the sea has stretched itself in a smoky blue strip, sleeping peacefully
in the heat and glare of the sun._
_Sarah, David Leizer's wife, an old Jewess, exhausted by life, is
seated in front of her little shop. She is mending some rags and is
chatting languidly with the other shopkeepers._
SARAH.
No one is buying anything. No one is drinking any soda-water; no one is
buying any sunflower seeds or any fine candies which melt in the mouth.
PURIKES.
_Like an echo._
No one is buying anything.
SARAH.
One might think that all the people have died so as not to buy
anything. One might think that we remained alone with our stores in
the whole world--we alone in the whole world.
PURIKES.
_Like an echo._
We alone.
BEZKRAINY.
The sun has burnt all the customers--only the shopkeepers remained.
_Silence. The soft sobbing of Sonka is heard._
BEZKRAINY.
Sonka, yesterday you bought a chicken. Did you kill or rob anybody that
you can afford to buy chickens? And if you are so rich and you hide
your money, why do you deal here and hinder us from making a living?
PURIKES.
_Like an echo._
And hinder us from making a living?
BEZKRAINY.
Sonka, I am asking you,--is it true that you bought a chicken
yesterday? Don't lie, I know it from trustworthy people.
_Sonka maintains silence, weeping._
SARAH.
When a Jew buys a chicken, it is because either the Jew is sick or the
chicken is sick. Sonka Zitron's son is dying; yesterday he commenced
to die and to-day he will end it--the boy is tenacious and he is dying
slowly.
BEZKRAINY.
Why did she come here if her son is dying?
SARAH.
Because it is necessary to trade.
PURIKES.
It is necessary to trade.
_Sonka is weeping._
SARAH.
Yesterday we ate nothing, we waited for to-day; and to-day we will eat
nothing, waiting that to-morrow will bring us customers and happiness.
Happiness! Who knows what is happiness? All people are equal before
God, and yet one sells two cents' worth, while another sells thirty
cents' worth. And one always two cents' worth, while the other always
thirty cents' worth, and no one knows why happiness is given to a
person.
BEZKRAINY.
I used to sell thirty cents' worth, and now I sell only two cents'
worth. At that time I had no "noblemen's" cider, and now I have it, and
yet I sell only two cents' worth now. Luck is changeable!
PURIKES.
Luck is changeable.
SARAH.
Yesterday my son Naum came and asked me: "Mother, where is father?" So
I said to him: "What for do you want to know where father is? David
Leizer, your father, is a sick, unfortunate man, who is going to die
soon; and he goes to the seashore to commune in solitude with God about
his fate. Don't disturb your father, he is going to die soon--you had
better tell me what you want to say." And Naum answered: "I will tell
you, mother,--I am beginning to die!" That is what Naum answered. When
David Leizer, my old husband, came home, I said to him: "You are still
steadfast in your uprightness! Blaspheme God and die! For your son Naum
is already beginning to die."
_Sonka is weeping more loudly._
PURIKES.
_Suddenly looks around, frightened._
But what--But what if people should stop buying things altogether?
SARAH.
_Frightened._
What do you mean?
PURIKES.
_With ever growing fear._
What if people should suddenly stop buying things altogether? What are
we to do then?
BEZKRAINY.
_With alarm._
How is it possible that people should stop buying things altogether?
That's impossible!
SARAH.
That's impossible.
PURIKES.
It is possible. Suddenly everybody may stop buying things.
_All are seized with horror; even Sonka stops
weeping, and pale-faced, she surveys the deserted
road with her frightened, dark eyes. The sun is
burning mercilessly. Anathema appears in the
distance, at the turn of the road._
SARAH.
A customer!
PURIKES.
A customer!
SONKA.
A customer! A customer!
_She cries again. Anathema comes nearer to them.
Notwithstanding the heat, he wears a black coat
of fine cloth, a black silk hat, black gloves;
only his necktie is white, lending a solemn air to
his costume. He is tall, and, though grey-haired,
straight and stately. The face of the accursed one
is of a swarthy-grey color; his features are stern
and of peculiar beauty. When Anathema takes off his
hat, his enormous forehead is revealed, furrowed
by wrinkles. His head is unusually large and his
greyish black hair is dishevelled. Anathema's neck
is wiry and strong, but it is rather thin and long,
and in his nervous contortions he carries his head
like a heavy weight, giving it the appearance
of strange inquisitiveness, restlessness and
malignity._
SARAH.
Do you want perhaps a glass of soda-water, sir? It is as hot as in
Hell, and if you don't drink, you may die of a sunstroke.
BEZKRAINY.
Real noblemen's cider!
PURIKES.
Violet soda! My God, violet soda!
SARAH.
Soda, seltzer!
BEZKRAINY.
Don't drink her soda-water. From her water rats are dying and roaches
stand up on their hind legs.
SARAH.
Ivan, aren't you ashamed to take away a customer? I am not saying
anything about your noblemen's cider, which is fit only for mad dogs to
drink.
PURIKES.
_Joyously._
A customer! A customer! Please don't buy anything from me, you needn't
buy anything from me,--all I want is to look at you. Sonka, do you see?
A buyer!
SONKA.
I don't see anything. I can't see.
_Anathema lifts his hatband bows to all kindly._
ANATHEMA.
Thank you. I will drink a glass of soda-water with pleasure, and
perhaps even a glass of your noblemen's cider. But I should like to
know where David Leizer's business place is.
SARAH.
_Surprised._
It is here. Do you want David? I am his wife, Sarah.
ANATHEMA.
Yes, madam Leizer, I want to see David, David Leizer.
SARAH.
_Suspiciously._
You have come with bad news: David has no friends that wear clothes of
such fine cloth as you wear. If that is so, you had better go away.
David is not here, and I will not tell you where he is.
ANATHEMA.
_Heartily._
Oh, no, madam, don't be uneasy; I am not bringing you any bad news. But
how pleasant it is to see such love.--Do you love your husband very
much, madam Leizer? He must be a very strong and healthy man, earning
much money.
SARAH.
_Frowning._
No, he is sick and old and unable to work. But he has not sinned
against God or man in any way, and even his enemies dare not say
anything bad about him. Here is some seltzer, sir, it is better than
soda. And if you are not afraid of the heat, I would ask you to sit
down and wait a while; David will soon be here.
ANATHEMA.
_Sitting down._
Yes, I have heard many good things about your husband, but I did not
know that he was so feeble and old. Have you any children, madam Leizer?
SARAH.
We had six, but the first four died....
ANATHEMA.
_Nods his head compassionately._
SARAH.
Yes, we lived miserably, sir. And we have only two left. Our son Naum....
BEZKRAINY.
A good-for-nothing, who makes believe that he is sick and saunters
about the city all day long.
SARAH.
Stop, Ivan, aren't you ashamed to slander honest people? Naum is going
around because he has to get credit. Then, sir, we have a daughter,
and her name is Rosa. But unfortunately she is too beautiful, too
beautiful, sir. Happiness what is happiness? One person dies of
smallpox, while another person needs smallpox, but it would not come,
and the face is as pure as a flower leaf.
ANATHEMA.
_Feigning amazement._
Why are you so sorry about it? Beauty is a gift from God, which He has
bestowed upon man, whom he has thus elevated and brought nearer to
Himself.
SARAH.
Who knows? It may be a gift from God, and it may be a gift from
somebody else of whom I would not speak. But there is one thing I do
not know; why has a man beautiful eyes, if he must hide them? Why has
he a white face, if he must cover it with soot and filth? Beauty is a
too dangerous treasure, for it is easier to hide money from a robber,
than beauty from a wicked man. (_Suspiciously._) Did you come perhaps
to see Rosa? Then you better go away,--Rosa is not here, and I will not
tell you where she is.
PURIKES.
A buyer. Sarah, look, a buyer is here.
SARAH.
Yes, yes, Purikes. But he will not buy that which he has come for, and
he will not find that which he is seeking.
_Anathema smiles good-naturedly and listens
attentively to the conversation; every time some
one begins to speak, he stretches his neck and
turns his head to the speaker, holding it slightly
bent on one side. He makes grimaces like an
actor, expressing now amazement, now sorrow or
indignation. He laughs, inappropriately, thereby
frightening and surprising the people._
BEZKRAINY.
Sarah, you are making a mistake in valuing your goods too highly and
not selling when people are ready to buy. Every article loses its value
if you keep it too long.
SARAH
_Tearfully._
What a wicked man you are, Ivan. I gave you credit for ten copecks, and
you are forever slandering us.
BEZKRAINY.
Don't pay any attention to me, Sarah,--I am wicked because I am hungry.
You, sir, in that black coat, go away: Sarah is an honest woman and she
will not sell her daughter to you, even if you offered her a million.
SARAH.
_Hotly._
That's right, Ivan, thank you. But who told you, sir, that our Rosa is
beautiful? It is not true--don't laugh, it isn't true, she is as ugly
as deadly sin. She is as filthy as a dog that has just crawled out of
the coal-hole of a ship; her face is furrowed by smallpox and it looks
like a field where people dig lime and sand; there is on her right eye
a cataract as large as on an old horse. Look at her hair--it is like
faded wool, half torn away by birds; and when she walks, she stoops,--I
swear to you, she stoops when she walks! If you take her, everybody
will laugh at you, everybody will spit at you, the street urchins will
give you no rest....
ANATHEMA.
_Surprised._
But, madam Leizer, I have heard--
SARAH.
_Sorrowfully._
You have heard nothing! I swear to you, you have heard nothing.
ANATHEMA.
But you yourself--
SARAH.
_Imploringly._
Have I said anything? My God, women are so talkative, sir; and they
love their children so dearly that they always consider them beautiful.
Rosa--beautiful! (_Laughs._) Just think of it, Purikes,--Rosa is
beautiful!
_She laughs. Rosa comes over from the direction of
the city. Her hair is disheveled, almost covering
her black, flashing eyes; her face is smeared with
something black, and she is dressed wretchedly.
She walks with a youthful and stately gait, but on
noticing the strange man, she stoops like an old
woman._
SARAH.
Here, here is Rosa; look, sir! My God, how ugly she is. David cries
every time he sees her.
ROSA.
_Offended, straightens herself._
There are uglier women than I am.
SARAH.
_Persuasively._
What are you saying, Rosa? There is no uglier girl than you in the
whole world. (_Whispers entreatingly._) Hide your beauty, Rosa. A
robber has come, Rosa,--hide your beauty! At night I will wash your
face myself, I will comb your braids myself, and you will be as
beautiful as a heavenly angel, and we will all pray to you. A robber
has come, Rosa. (_Aloud._) Did they throw stones at you again?
ROSA.
_Hoarsely._
Yes, they did.
SARAH.
And the dogs attacked you, too?
ROSA.
Yes, they did.--
SARAH.
So you see, sir? Even the dogs!
ANATHEMA.
_In a friendly tone._
Yes, it seems that I have made a mistake. To my regret, your daughter
is really not pretty and it is painful to look at her.
SARAH.
Of course, there are uglier girls than she is, but--Go, Rosochka, go
over there, take your work--What is there for a poor and ugly girl to
do but work? Go, my poor Rosochka, go.
_Rosa takes some rags to mend and disappears behind
the counter. Silence._
ANATHEMA.
Is it long since you have this store, madam Leizer?
SARAH.
_Calmed down._
Thirty years already, ever since David became sick. A misfortune
happened to him when he served in the army,--he was trampled by horses
and they crushed his chest.
ANATHEMA.
Was David a soldier?
BEZKRAINY.
_Interposing._
David had an older brother, and he was a scoundrel, and his name was
Moses.
SARAH.
_With a sigh._
And his name was Moses.
BEZKRAINY.
And when the time came for Moses to serve in the army, he ran off on an
Italian steamer. And David was taken in his place.
SARAH.
_With a sigh._
David was taken.
ANATHEMA.
What injustice!
BEZKRAINY.
Have you ever met justice in the world?
ANATHEMA.
Of course I have. You are no doubt an unfortunate man, and everything
appears to you in dark colors. But you will see, you will soon see,
that justice does exist. (_Freely._) The devil take it, I have nothing
to do, so I always roam about the world, and I have not seen anything
so plentiful as justice. How shall I say it, madam Leizer? There is
more justice on earth than fleas on a good dog.
SARAH.
_Smiling._
But what if it is just as hard to catch justice as
to catch fleas....
BEZKRAINY.
And what if it bites just as the fleas do?
_All laugh. From the side of the city appears an
organ-grinder, exhausted, half-blinded from dust
and perspiration. He wants to pass by, but suddenly
he pauses in despair, and begins to play a terrible
tune._
SARAH.
Pass on, please, pass on. We need no music.
ORGAN-GRINDER.
_Playing._
Neither do I need it.
SARAH.
We have nothing to give you. Pass on.
ORGAN-GRINDER.
_Playing._
Then I will die to the strains of music.
ANATHEMA.
_Generously._
Please, madam Leizer, give him something to eat and water--I will pay
for everything.
SARAH.
What a kind-hearted man you are. Go, musician, eat and drink. But for
the water I will not take anything from you--let the water be mine.
_The organ-grinder sits down and eats ravenously._
ANATHEMA.
_Friendly._
Is it long you have been roaming over the world, musician?
ORGAN-GRINDER.
_Morosely,_
I used to have a monkey before--music and a monkey. The monkey was
eaten up by the fleas, and my music box started to screech, and I am
looking for a tree on which to hang myself. That is all.
_A little girl runs in. She looks curiously at the
organ-grinder, then turns to Sonka._
LITTLE GIRL.
Sonka, Ruzya died.
SONKA.
Already?
LITTLE GIRL.
Yes, he died. May I take some seeds?
SONKA.
_Closing her store._
You may. Sarah, if a customer comes, tell him that I will attend to
business to-morrow again, otherwise he may think that my store is
closed for good. Have you heard it? Ruzya died.
SARAH.
Already?
LITTLE GIRL.
Yes, he died. Is the musician going to play?
_Anathema whispers to Sarah and puts something into
her hand._
SARAH.
Sonka, here is a rouble for you; you see, a rouble?
BEZKRAINY.
There is luck! Yesterday a chicken, to-day a rouble. Take it, Sonka.
_All look greedily upon the rouble. Sonka and the
little girl go out._
SARAH.
You are very rich, sir.
ANATHEMA.
_With self-satisfaction._
Yes. I have a large practice--I am a lawyer.
SARAH.
_Quickly._
David has no debts.
ANATHEMA.
Oh, I haven't come for that at all, madam Leizer. When you know me
better, you will see that I bring, but do not take, that I make gifts,
but do not take them back.
SARAH.
_With fear._
Do you come from God?
ANATHEMA.
It would be too much honor for me and for you, madam Leizer, if I came
from God. No, I have come of my own accord.
_Naum comes over, looks at the customer with
amazement, and sits down, exhausted, upon a rock.
Naum is a tall, thin young man, with a narrow chest
and a large, pale nose. He looks around on all
sides._
NAUM.
Where is Rosa?
SARAH.
_In a whisper._
Not so loud,--she is there. (_Aloud._) Well, hew was it, Naum? Did you
get any credit?
NAUM.
_Slowly._
No, mother, I did not get any credit. I am beginning to die,
mother,--everybody feels hot, while I am very cold; and I am
perspiring, but my perspiration is cold. I met Sonka--Ruzya died
already.
SARAH.
You will live yet, Naum, you will live yet.
NAUM.
_Slowly._
Yes, I will live yet. Why isn't father coming? It is time for him to be
here.
SARAH.
Clean a herring, Rosa. This gentleman is waiting for David a long time
already, and David isn't here.
NAUM.
What does he want?
SARAH.
I don't know, Naum. Since he came, I suppose it was necessary.
_Silence._
NAUM.
Mother, I am not going for credit any more. I will go with father to
the sea. The time has come when I must go and ask God about my fate.
SARAH.
Do not ask Him, Naum, do not ask.
NAUM.
I will ask Him.
SARAH.
_Entreatingly._
Don't do it, Naum, don't ask.
ANATHEMA.
Why not, madam Leizer? Do you fear that God will give him a bad answer?
You should have more faith, madam Leizer. If David heard you, he would
not approve your words.
ORGAN-GRINDER.
_Raising his head._
Is it you, young man, who wants to speak to God?
NAUM.
Yes, it is I. Every man can speak with God.
ORGAN-GRINDER.
Do you think so? Then ask for a new organ. Tell Him that this one is
screeching.
ANATHEMA.
_Compassionately._
He might add that the monkey was eaten up by the fleas--that he needs a
new monkey.
_He laughs. All look at him in perplexity; the
organ-grinder rises and takes up his organ
silently._
SARAH.
What do you want to do, musician?
ORGAN-GRINDER.
I want to play.
SARAH.
What for? We don't need any music.
ORGAN-GRINDER.
I must thank you for your kindness.
_He plays something weird: the organ screeches,
breaks off, wheezes. Anathema, with eyes lifted
dreamily to the sky, keeps time with his hand, and
whistles._
SARAH.
My God, how badly it sounds.
ANATHEMA.
This, madam Leizer (_whistles_),--this is called the world harmony.
_The conversation dies away for some time: only
the screeching of the organ and the whistling
of Anathema are heard. The sun is still shining
mercilessly._
ANATHEMA.
I have nothing to do, so I wander over the world.
_He is carried away by the playing of the organ. Suddenly the organ
breaks off with a screech, which rings in the ears for a long time, and
Anathema remains as petrified with uplifted hand._
ANATHEMA.
_Perplexedly._
Does it always end like this?
ORGAN-GRINDER.
Sometimes even worse. Good-by.
ANATHEMA.
_Feeling his vest pocket._
No, no, you mustn't go away like that.... You have afforded us genuine
pleasure, and I do not want you to hang yourself. Here is some change
for you, and live on.
SARAH.
_Pleasantly surprised._
Who could ever think, by looking at your face, that you are such a
cheerful and kind-hearted man?
ANATHEMA.
_Flattered._
Oh, do not embarrass me with your praise, madam Leizer. Why shouldn't
I help a poor man who would otherwise hang himself! The life of man is
a precious thing, madam Leizer,--and I always carry change with me....
But isn't that venerable man I see there David Leizer?
_He looks in the direction where the road turns to
the right._
SARAH.
_Also looking at the road._
Yes, that is David.
_All wait silently. On the dust-covered road
appears David Leizer, walking slowly. He is tall,
bony, with long, grey locks and a grey beard; on
his head he wears a high, black cap; in his hand a
staff with which he seems to measure the road. He
looks down from under his heavy eyebrows; and thus,
without lifting his eyes, he advances slowly and
seriously to the people, and stops, leaning upon
the staff with both hands._
SARAH.
_Rising respectfully._
Where were you, David?
DAVID.
_Not lifting his eyes._
I was by the sea.
SARAH.
What did you do there, David?
DAVID.
I looked at the waves, Sarah, and asked them whence they came and
whither they were going. I was thinking of life, Sarah--whence it came
and whither it is going....
SARAH.
What did the waves tell you, David?
DAVID.
They did not tell me anything, Sarah.... They come and go away again,
and the man by the sea is waiting in vain for an answer from the sea.
SARAH.
With whom did you speak, David?
DAVID.
I spoke with God, Sarah. I asked Him about the fate of David Leizer,
the poor Jew who is going to die soon.
SARAH.
_With emotion._
And what did God tell you?
_David is silent, his eyes lowered._
SARAH.
Our son Naum also wants to go with you to the sea and ask about his
fate.
DAVID.
_Lifting his eyes._
Is Naum going to die soon?
NAUM.
Yes, father,--I have already commenced to die.
ANATHEMA.
But, pardon me, gentlemen.... Why should you speak of death, since I
have brought you life and happiness?
DAVID.
_Turning his head to him._
Do you come from God? Sarah, who is he who dares to speak like this?
SARAH.
I don't know. He has been waiting for you a long time.
ANATHEMA.
_Bustling about joyously._
Oh, ladies and gentlemen, smile. Attention for one minute and I will
make you all laugh. Attention, gentlemen. Attention!
_All look with tense attention at Anathema's mouth._
ANATHEMA.
_Taking out a paper, solemnly._
Are you not David Leizer, the son of Abraham Leizer?
LEIZER.
_Frightened._
Well, yes, I am. But there may be another David Leizer. I don't
know--ask the people.
ANATHEMA.
_Interrupting him with a gesture._
Didn't you have a brother, Moses Leizer, who fled to America
thirty-five years ago on the Italian steamship _Fortuna?_
ALL.
Yes, he did.
DAVID.
But I did not know that he was in America.
ANATHEMA.
David Leizer, your brother Moses died!
_Silence._
DAVID.
I have long forgiven him.
ANATHEMA.
And before he died he bequeathed all his fortune, amounting to two
million dollars (_to the people surrounding him_), which means four
million roubles,--to you, David Leizer.
_A deep sigh goes through the crowd and all seem as
petrified._
ANATHEMA.
_Outstretching the paper._
Here is the document, you see--the seal.
DAVID.
_Pushing the paper aside._
No, don't! Don't do that! You were not sent by God. God would not make
sport of man in this way.
ANATHEMA.
_Heartily._
This is not a jest. Upon my honor, it is the truth,--four millions.
Allow me to be the first to congratulate you and to shake your honest
hand warmly. (_Takes David Leizer's hand and shakes it._) Well, madam
Leizer, what have I brought you? And what will you say now? Is your
daughter Rosa beautiful now or is she ugly? Aha! Are you going to die
so soon, Naum? Aha! (_Tearfully_.) That's what I have brought you,
people, and now permit me to step aside--and not to disturb you--
_Lifts a handkerchief to his eyes and steps aside,
apparently agitated._
SARAH.
_Wildly._
Rosa!
ROSA.
_Also wildly._
What is it, mamma?
SARAH.
Wash your face! Wash your face, Rosa! My God, quicker, quicker,--wash
your face!
_As though insane, she drags Rosa, washes her,
splashing the water with trembling hands. Naum
clings to his father's arm, hanging on to it, as
though he is about to lose consciousness._
DAVID.
Take back your paper! (_Firmly._) Take back your paper!
SARAH.
Have you lost your mind, David? Don't listen to him. Wash yourself,
Rosochka, wash yourself! Let all the people see your beauty!
NAUM.
_Seizing the paper._
It is ours, father. Father,--this is how God has answered you. Look at
mother, look at Rosa--look at me: I was already commencing to die.
PURIKES.
_Shouts._
Ai, Ai, look out, they'll tear the paper. Ai, Ai, take away the paper
from them, quick!
_Naum cries, Rosa, radiantly beautiful, her hair
wet, but no longer covering her eyes, comes over to
her father, laughing._
ROSA.
It is I, father! It is I! It is--I!
SARAH.
_Wildly._
Where were you, Rosa?
ROSA.
I wasn't--I've just been born, mamma!
SARAH.
See, David, see--a human being has just been born! Oh, look at her,
every one of you! Oh, open the doors of your vision, throw open the
gates of your eyes--look at her, every one of you!
_Suddenly David realizes the meaning of what has
happened. He throws his cap from his head, tears
his clothing, which seems to suffocate him, and
pushing everybody aside, rushes to Anathema._
DAVID.
_Sternly._
Why have you brought this?
ANATHEMA.
_Meekly._
But, pardon me, Mr. Leizer, I am only a lawyer. I am sincerely glad.
DAVID.
Why have you brought this?
_He pushes Anathema aside, and reeling, goes to the
road. Suddenly he stops, turns around and shouts,
flourishing his hands._
DAVID.
I Drive him away--that is the Devil. Do you think he brought me four
million roubles? No, he brought me four million insults. Four million
mockeries he hurled upon the head of David ... Four oceans of bitter
tears have I shed over life, my sighs were four winds of the earth,
my four children were devoured by hunger and diseases--and now, when
I must die, he brings me four millions. Will they return to me my
youth which I passed in privation, oppressed with grief, wrapped with
sorrows, crowned with anguish? Will they repay me for one day of my
starvation, one tear that fell upon a rock, one insult hurled at my
face? Four million curses--that's what your four million roubles
are--oh, Hannah, oh, Benjamin, and Raphael, and my little Moishe,--you,
my little birdies, who died of hunger upon the naked branches of
winter--what will you say if your father should touch this money? No, I
don't need any money. I am telling you--I, an old Jew, dying of hunger.
I don't need any money. I don't see God in this. But I shall go to Him,
I shall tell Him: What are you doing with David?--I am going.
_Goes away, brandishing his hands._
SARAH.
_Crying._
David, come back, come back.
PURIKES.
_In despair._
The paper, pick up the paper.
ANATHEMA.
_Turns around._
Calm yourself, madam Leizer, he will come back. It is always thus at
first. I have wandered a great deal over the world and I know it. The
blood rushes to the head, the feet begin to quiver, and man curses.
That's nonsense!
ROSA.
What a crooked mirror, mother!
NAUM.
_Cries._
Mamma, where is father going? I want to live.
ANATHEMA.
Throw away that piece of glass, Rosa. Mankind will reflect your beauty,
the world will reflect your beauty--you will see yourself in the
world.... Ah, you are still here, musician. Play something for us,
please. Such a holiday must not pass without music!
ORGAN-GRINDER.
Shall I play the same?
ANATHEMA.
The same.
_The organ wails and wheezes. Anathema whistles
furiously, waving his hands, as though blessing
everybody with the music and the whistling._
CURTAIN.
ACT TWO.
_David Leizer lives richly. At the urgent request of his wife and his
children he has hired a rich villa, by the sea-shore, engaged numerous
servants, bought horses and carriages. Anathema, under the pretext that
he had grown tired of his law practice, remained with David as his
private secretary. Rosa is taking lessons in languages and deportment.
Naum, who has grown very sick, near to death, is learning how to dance.
The money has not yet arrived from America, but to David Leizer, the
millionaire, a large credit has been extended._
_The stage represents a rich parlor, white marble here and there, with
large Italian windows and a door leading to a veranda. It is midday.
Beyond the open windows, semi-tropical plants are visible, and the deep
blue sea in the distance; through one of the windows, a view of the
city is seen._
_David Leizer is seated by the table, greatly depressed. A short
distance away, on a divan, Sarah is seated, dressed richly, but without
taste; she watches Naum learning how to dance. Naum is very pale, he
coughs and almost falls from weakness, especially when, according to
the rules of the dance, he must stand on one foot; but he is studying
diligently! He is dressed rather richly, but his bright-colored vest
and necktie spoil the elegance of his appearance. Near Naum, the
dancing-master, with a fiddle and how, is hustling about, balancing
himself, rising up and down. He is a man of unusual refinement and
grace; he wears a white vest, patent-leather slippers, and a smoking
jacket. And Anathema, standing at the veranda door, looks upon all this
with an air of sadness and reproach._
DANCING-MASTER.
One--two--three; one--two--three.
SARAH.
Look, David, see how successful our Naum is in his dancing. I could not
hop like that for anything? poor boy!
DAVID.
I see.
DANCING-MASTER.
Monsieur Naum is very talented. Please, one-two--three;
one--two--three. Pardon me, pardon me, this isn't exactly right. You
must make the step more precise, neatly rounding the motion of the
right foot. This way--this way.
_Shows him how to do it._
Madam Leizer, dancing is quite like mathematics, a circle is necessary.
SARAH.
Do you hear, David?
DAVID.
I hear.
DANCING-MASTER.
Please, monsieur Naum. One--two--three.
_Plays on his violin._
NAUM.
_Out of breath._
One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three.
_He turns around, and then, suddenly, almost falls
down. He stops. His face is exhausted, deathly
pale; he is seized with a fit of coughing. Then he
resumes dancing._
NAUM,
One, two, three.
DANCING-MASTER.
That's the way, that's the way, monsieur Naum. Please, more neatly!
More neatly, please! One, two, three.
_He plays. Anathema walks over to Sarah cautiously
and says in a low voice, yet loud enough to be
heard by David:_
ANATHEMA.
Madam Leizer, does it not seem to you that Naum is rather tired? This
dancing-master knows no mercy.
DAVID.
_Turning around._
Yes, it is enough. Sarah, you are willing to torture the boy.
SARAH.
_Confusedly._
What have I to do with it, David? Don't I see that he is tired, but he
wants to dance? Naum, Naum!
DAVID.
Enough, Naum! Take a rest.
NAUM.
_Out of breath._
I want to dance.
_Stops and stamps his foot hysterically._
Why am I not allowed to dance? Or do you all want me to die soon?
SARAH.
You will live yet, Naum. You will live yet.
NAUM.
_Almost crying._
Why don't they allow me to dance? I want to dance. I have looked for
credit long enough, I want to amuse myself. Am I an old man to be in
bed and cough there? Cough! Cough!
_He coughs and cries simultaneously. Anathema
whispers something to the dancing-master, who
expresses compassion, nods his head, and prepares
to go._
DANCING-MASTER.
Until to-morrow, monsieur Naum. I am afraid that our lesson was a
little too long.
NAUM.
To-morrow--don't fail to come to-morrow. Do you hear? I want to dance.
_The dancing-master goes out, bowing. Naum follows
him._
NAUM.
To-morrow, without fail. Do you hear? Without fail.
_They go out._
ANATHEMA.
What are you thinking of, David? Allow me to be not only your private
secretary--although I am proud of this honor--but also your friend.
Since the time when you received the money you are oppressed by a dark
sorrow, and it pains me to look at you.
DAVID.
What is there that I should rejoice over, Nullius?
SARAH.
And Rosa? Do not sin against God, David! Do not our eyes rest upon her
beauty and youth? Before even the silent moon dared not look at her,
one star dared not whisper about her to any other star,--while now she
is riding about in a carriage, and everybody looks at her, and horsemen
gallop after her. Just think of it, Nullius, horsemen gallop after her!
DAVID.
And Naum?
SARAH.
What about Naum? He has long been ill, you know it, and death upon a
soft bed is not worse than death upon the pavement. And perhaps he
will live yet, he will live yet (_cries._) David, Abraham Khessin and
Sonka's girl are waiting for you in the yard.
DAVID.
_Morosely._
What do they want, money? Sarah, give them a few pennies and let them
go.
SARAH.
In the end they will draw out all the money we have, Nullius. I have
given to Khessin twice already. He is like sand,--no matter how much
water you pour into it, it is always dry and greedy.
DAVID.
Nonsense! we have too much money, Sarah. But it pains me to look at the
people, Nullius. Since the time when you brought us this fortune--
ANATHEMA.
Which you earned by your sufferings, Leizer.
DAVID.