Part 22

Oh, I feel that my pen is too weak to describe the manner of Stempenju's playing at the Enthronement of the Bride. That was not mere playing, mere fingering of the strings: that was a kind of religious service, devotion to the Lord, with a very elevated feeling, with such a noble spirit! Stempenju took his stand in front of the bride and began to address her with a sermon on his violin, a beautiful, a long sermon, a touching sermon, on the free and happy life she had led heretofore, on her girlish state, and the gloomy, bitter life that awaited her later, later. No longer a girl! the head covered, the beautiful long hair disguised forever ... gone all merriment! Farewell, youth, you are now turned into a married Jewess!... 'Tis somehow very sad! May God not visit us with punishment for such words!...

Almost these words are heard on Stempenju's violin. The women all understand well the purport of that silent sermon, all the women feel it; they feel it, and weep thereupon bitter tears.

* * * * *

"How long have I been sitting," meditates a young

jung Weibel, schlingendig die Trähren,--wie lang bin ich asō gesessen mit zulāste, zuflochtene Zöpp' un' hāb' nor gemēint, as Malochim spielen sich gār mit mir, as ich bin Ēine, a glückliche? Zum Ssof ... ach, zum Ssof....

--Bescher' ihr Gott,--thut beten an ältere Jüdene, a Mutter vun derwachsene Töchter,--bescher' ihr Gott, mein älterer Tochter, ihr Siweg in Gichen, nor mit mehr Masel wie mir, nor mit a schönere Dolje, wie ich hāb' bei mein Mann, Gott soll nit strāfen far die Rēd'!

Ot in asölche Machschowes fallen arein die Weiber un' Stempenju thut sich sein's: Er arbeit't mit alle Keelim, un' dās Fiedele redt. Dās spielt Stempenju a Wēinendig's, un' die Kapelje halt't ihm unter, es werd still, aus-Ljarem, aus-Gepilder! Alle, alle willen hören Stempenjun. Jüden wer'en vartracht, Weiber weren anschwiegen; Jünglech, Maedlech kletteren arauf auf Bänk' un' auf Tischen,--Jeder will hören Stempenjun!

* * * * *

--Sch--scha! Stiller! Ōlem, lās sein still!!

Un Stempenju zugiesst sich auf'n Fiedele un' zugēht sich wie a Wachs: Tjoch, tjoch, tjoch,--mehr hört män nischt. A Hand flieht auf un' āb,--mehr seht män nit, un' es hören sich allerlēi Kōles, un' es giessen sich verschiedene Minee Gesangen, un' alls umetige, trauerige, as es nemmt ān beim Harzen, es zieht die Neschome, es nemmt araus dās Chijes; Der Ōlem gēht aus mit alle Kōches, der Ōlem starbt, starbt mit alle Eewrim, dās Harz werd eppes asō vull, un' es stellen sich Trähren in die Äugen; Jüden süfzen, Jüden krächzen, Jüden wēinen ... un' Stempenju? Wer Stempenju? Me sēht ihm gār nit, me sēht kein Fiedele, me hört nor die süsse Kōles, die göttliche Gesangen, wās füllen ān

woman, swallowing her tears, "how long have I been sitting with flowing, unbraided hair, and thinking that angels are playing with me, that I am the happiest creature! And yet ... ah, and yet...."

* * * * *

"God grant her," so begins her prayer an elderly woman, a mother of grown-up daughters, "God grant her, my oldest daughter, to be soon united in wedlock, but with more happiness than I have had, with a better lot than I have had with my husband,--may God not visit me with punishment for my words!"

Such are the thoughts that fall upon the women, and Stempenju keeps on playing his way: he directs the whole band, and his violin talks eloquently. Stempenju is now playing a sad tune, and his musicians support him. All is quiet, there is no noise, not a sound! All, all want to hear Stempenju. Men fall to musing, women are grown silent. Boys and girls have climbed on benches and tables,--all want to hear Stempenju!

"Hush! Keep still! People, let there be quiet!"

And Stempenju dissolves on his violin and melts like wax; pitapat is all you may hear. An arm flies up and down,--that's all you may see, and you hear all kinds of voices, and all kinds of tunes are poured forth, all melancholy, sad, so that it tears out your heart, draws out your soul, takes away your life. The people grow faint, the people grow weak in all their limbs; the heart is full to overflowing, and tears appear in the eyes. Men sigh, men groan, women weep ... and Stempenju? But who pays attention to him? No one sees him, no one sees his violin; they only hear his sweet tones, the divine music which fills the whole room.... And Rochele the beautiful who had never

die ganze Stub' ... Un' Rochele die schoene, wās hāt noch bis aher nischt gehört Stempenju's Spielen, Rochele, wās hāt gehört, as 's is' dā a Stempenju, nor sie hāt noch nischt gehört asa Min Spielen, stēht un' hört sich zu zu die kischefdige Gesangen, zu die seltene Kōles, un' verstēht nit, wās dās is'. Eppes zieht dās ihr dās Harz, eppes glätt't dās sie,--nor wās dās is' verstēht sie nit. Sie hōbt auf die Äugen ahin, vun wannen es giessen sich die süsse Kōles un' derseht a Pāar wunderschoene, schwarze Äugen, feuerdige Augen, wās kucken gleich auf ihr un' nehmen sie durch, wie Spiesen, wie scharfe Spiesen. Die wunderschoene, schwarze, feuerdige Äugen kucken auf ihr un' winken zu ihr un' reden mit ihr; Rochele will arāblāsen ihre Äugen arāb,--un' kānn nit.

--Ot dās is' Stempenju?

Asō klährt sich Rochele die schoene, wenn dās Besetzen hāt sich schōn geëndigt un' die Mechutonim hōben schōn ān zu trachten mikōach Führen zu der Chupe.

--Wu senen ergez die Licht? frägt Chossen's Zad.

* * * * *

--Die Licht wu senen? entfert Kale's Zad.

* * * * *

Un' asō werd wieder der ēigener Gepilder, wās früher; Alle läufen un' me wēisst nit wuhin. Me kwetscht sich, me stuppt sich, me tret't ān auf Masolim, me reisst Klēidlech, me schwitzt, me siedelt die Ssarwers mit die Schamossim, un' see siedlen zurück die Mechutonim, un' die Mechutonim amperen sich zwischen sich,--es is' borchaschem ganz lebedig!

S. RABINOWITSCH.

before heard Stempenju's playing, Rochele who had heard before of Stempenju, but who had never before heard such playing, stands and listens to the enticing music, the rare sounds, and does not understand what that all means. Something has touched her heart, a soft feeling has passed over her, but she does not understand what that is. She lifts her eyes to the place from which the sweet sounds proceed, and notices a pair of very beautiful black eyes, fiery eyes that are looking straight at her, and that transfix her like spears, like sharp spears. The beautiful, black, fiery eyes look at her and beckon to her and speak to her; Rochele wants to lower her eyes, and she cannot.

* * * * *

"Oh, that is Stempenju!"

So meditates Rochele the beautiful, as the Enthronement is ended, and the parents of the contracting parties are getting ready to lead them under the Baldachin.

* * * * *

"Where are the candles?" comes the question from the bridegroom's side.

"The candles, where are they?" comes the reply from the bride's side.

And thus the same noise begins as before. All are running, not knowing whither. There is a jam, and they push each other, and step on people's toes, and tear dresses; they perspire, they scold the ushers and the beadles, and these again scold the parents of the marrying couple, and the parents wrangle among themselves,--praised be the Lord, all is lively!

XIII. DER TALMUD

(_Jüdische Volksbibliothēk_, Vol. II. pp. 195-197)

Alte Blätter vun'm Talmud, Alte Sagen un' Legenden! In mein trauerigen Leben Oft thu' ich zu euch mich wenden.

Bei der Nacht, wenn in der Finster Läuft der Schlāf vun meine Äugen, Un' ich sitz' allēin un' elend, Zu der Brust dem Kopp gebōgen,

In die trauerige Stunden, Wie a Steren in der blauer Summernacht, hēbt ān zu scheinen Der Sikoren in mein Trauer.

Ich dermāhn sich auf die Liebe, Auf die süsse Kindheitsjāhren, Wenn ich bin noch frei gewesen Von mein Kummer, Lēid un' Zoren;

Ich dermāhn' sich auf die Zeiten, Wenn ich fleg' dem ersten, süssen, Besten Koss vun Leben, Freiheit, Frēud' un' Lustigkeit geniessen.

Ich dermāhn' sich auf die alte, Auf die süsse, liebe Jāhren, Un' die Blätter vun'm Talmud Stēhen auf in mein Sikoren.

Ach, die alte, alte Blätter! Wie viel Licht un' wie viel Steren Brennen, scheinen un' see können Ēbig nit verloschen wer'en.

XIII. THE TALMUD

Old leaves of the Talmud, old stories and legends! In my saddened life I frequently turn to you.

At night, when in the darkness sleep evades my eyes, and I sit alone and deserted, my head bowed to my breast,

In those sad hours, like a star in the azure summer night, there begin to shine memories in my sadness.

I recall my love, my sweet years of childhood, when I was still free from sorrow, pain and anger;

I recall those times when I quaffed the first, sweet, the best chalice of life, freedom, joy and merriness.

I recall the old, the sweet, delightful years, and the leaves of the Talmud arise in my memory.

Oh, the old, old leaves! As many lights and as many stars there burn and shine, they can never be extinguished.

Tausend Stromen, tausend Teichen Hāben see gethun verfliessen, Samd hāt sich auf see geschotten, Sturems hāben see gerissen,

Un' die alte, alte Blätter Leben noch ... see senen take Gell, verchōschecht, ābgerissen, Dort a Loch un' dā a Make;

Dā a Stückel ābgesmalet, Dort a Schure täug' auf Zores, Un' in Ganzen hāt a Ponim Vun an alten Bess-hakwores ...

Meele wās? Nu, is' dās take A Bessalmen, wu begrāben Liegt in Keewer All's, wās ēbig Wöllen mir schon mehr nit hāben....

Un' ich, alter, kranker Jossem, Vull mit Lēid, mit Eemas-mowes, Stēh', mein grauen Kopp gebōgen, Stēh' un' wēin' auf Keewer-owes.... S. FRUG.

XIV. DĀS JÜDISCHE KIND

(_Hausfreund_, p. 44)

Tief begrāben in der Finster, Weit vun Luft un' Licht,-- Sehst du dort dem blinden Worem, Wie er kriecht?

In der Erd' is' er gebōren, Un' beschert Is' ihm, ēbig, ēbig kriechen In der Erd'....

Thousands of streams, thousands of rivers have passed over them, sand has covered them, storms have torn them,

Yet the old, old leaves live on ... though they be yellow, darkened, torn,--a hole here, a spot there;

Here a bit charred, there a line obliterated, and the whole has the appearance of an old cemetery....

What of that? Yes, indeed, that is a burial-ground where lies buried in the grave all that which we shall never have again....

And I, old, sick orphan, full of sorrow, of the awe of death, stand with bent head, stand and weep at the grave of our fathers....

XIV. THE JEWISH CHILD

Deeply buried in darkness, far from air and light,--do you see yonder the blind worm, as he creeps?

In the ground he was born, and it is decreed that forever, yes forever, he shall creep upon the earth....

Wie a Worem in der Finster, Schwach un' stumm un' blind,-- Lebst du āb die Kindheit's Jāhren, Jüdisch Kind!

Auf dein Wiegel singt die Mame Nit kēin Lied Vun a ruhig stillen Leben, Freiheit, Fried,

Vun die Gärtner, vun die Felder, Wu dās frische Kind Spielt un' frēut sich frei un' lustig, Wie der Wind.

Nēin! A Quall vun tiefen Jāmmer Rauscht un' klingt.... Oi, wie bitter is' dās Liedel, Wās sie singt!

Tiefe Süfzen, hēisse Trähren Mit a starke Macht Klingen, rauschen in dem Liedel Tāg un' Nacht.

Tiefe Süfzen, hēisse Trähren, Hunger, Kält Schleppen sich mit dir zusammen Auf der Welt.

Un' vun Wiegel bis zum Keewer, Auf dem langen Weg, Wachsen ganze Wälder Zores Ohn' a Breg.... S. FRUG.

Like a worm in the darkness, weak and mute and blind,--you live through the years of childhood, Jewish child!

At your cradle your mother sings not a song of a quiet, peaceful life, of freedom, peace,

Of the gardens, of the fields, where the blooming child plays and gladdens free and merry like the wind.

No, a spring of deep sorrow bubbles and resounds.... Oh, how bitter is the song that she sings!

Deep sobs, hot tears with a mighty power resound, bubble in the song day and night.

Deep sobs, hot tears, hunger, cold, drag along with you in the world.

And from your cradle to your grave, upon the long journey, there grow whole forests of sorrows without end....

XV. DER ADELIGER KĀTER

(_Emeth_, Vol. I. p. 62)

A Fuchs, a chitrer Kerl un' a Lez Hāt in an Unterhaltung mit a Kāter Gemacht asō viel Chōsek vun die Kätz', As Jener is' in Kas gewor'en. "Du wēisst nit, Füchsel-chazuf"--hāt er Zu ihm gesāgt mit Zorn,-- "As ich gehör' zum allerhöchsten Adel "Vun Chajes, weil ich kumm' vun a Mischpoche "Vun Helden ohne Furcht un' Tadel, "Wās seinen kēinmāl nit gegangen in Gespann, "Nit in a Fuhr', nit in a Ssoche, "Zum Führen Hēu, zum Ackern a Feld, "Zum Thon, wās passt nit far a Thieren-held; "Nor lebendig in Wōltāg, Jederer a Pan, "Durch ehrenhafte Raub. "Ich stamm' bekizer āb vun flinken Tiger, "Wās känn verzucken jeden Rind; "Ich bin dem Lempert's Schwesterkind, "Sogar vun seine Majestät, dem Loeb "A Korew nit kēin weiter. "Ōbgleich ich bin allēin vielleicht, "Kēin Held nit, nit kēin grōsser Krieger, "Un' nit kēin mōrediger Streiter." --"As du bist nit kēin Held, is' leicht "Zu sehn"--hāt ihm geëntwert unser Fuchs-- "I vun dein schwache Lapke, "I vun dein Blick, i vun dein Wuchs. "Wer wēiss nit, as dem klensten Hüntel's Eck "(Schōn gār nit rēdendig vun seine Zaehner) "Verjāgt dich, wie die schwachste Žabke, "In Thom arein var hōle Schreck?

XV. THE NOBLE TOM-CAT

A Fox, a cunning fellow and a jester, conversing once with a Tom-cat, made light of all the cats, so that he made him angry. "You know not, arrant Fox," said he to him, growing angry, "that I belong to the noblest tribe of beasts, for I am descended from a family of heroes without fear and reproach, who never have walked under a yoke of wain, nor plough, to gather in the hay, to till the field, to do what is not meet for a beast-hero,--nay, living aye in plenty, each his own master, by honorable robbery. In short, I am descended from the swift Tiger, who knows how to slay the kine; I am cousin to the Leopard, and even of his Majesty, the Lion, a not distant relative, although I myself, perhaps, be not a hero, nor great warrior, nor awful champion.

* * * * *

"That you are not a hero is easily discerned," our Fox retorted, "both by your weak paw, and by your looks, and by your size. Who does not know that the tail of the smallest dog--not to speak of his teeth--will chase you away like the weakest frog into some hole, agog with fear? You, my friend, are bold only with bones, in a corner of the room, making war on a quiet, hungry mouse. I know of the high deeds of

"Du bist nor, Freund, a Chwat mit Bēiner "In Winkele, in Haus, "Bekämpfendig a stille, hungerige Maus. "Ich wēiss nit vun die Maissim-tōwim, "Vun deine adelige Krōwim, "Nor du lebst nit vun ehrenhaften Raub allēin, "Du, Bruder, schämst sich nit zu ganwenen, "Zu bettlen un' zu chanfenen, "Afile naschen is' far dir nit zu gemēin." Dās sāgendig hāt er sein āngepelzten Eck Mit Spott a Hōb gethān un' is' aweg.

* * * * *

Die alte Welt Is vull mit tausende asölche Kāters, Jachsonim puste, adelige Pimpernātters, Mit Wonzes lange, bliszendige Äugen, Ohn' Macht, ohn' Sinn, ohn' Geld, Nefosches, welche täugen Zum Klettern mit Pläner in der Hōch, Vun welche jeder endigt sich in Räuch; Wās lecken Teller bei dem Reichen Un' mjauken sich mit sejersgleichen Aristokratisch fein zusammen, Un' Alles, wās see wēissen, Is' mehr nit, wie see hēissen, Un' dann, vun welche Tigerkätz' see stammen. M. WINCHEVSKY.

XVI. JONKIPER

(_Hausfreund_, Vol. II. pp. 88-91)

... Es is' wieder Jonkiper, nor dreissig Jāhr senen vun jener Zeit arüber.

Wieder is' die Schul vull mit Tales un' Kittel eingewickelte Jüden; der Pol is' mit Hēu ausgebett' itzt

your noble relatives,--but you do not live by honorable prey alone; you, my friend, are not ashamed to steal, to beg, and to flatter; you do not think it beneath you to nibble secretly at dainties." Saying that, he raised his furry tail in scorn and went away.

* * * * *

The Old World is full of thousands of such Tom-cats, empty-headed braggarts, noble dragons, with long mustaches and glittering eyes, without power, without sense, or money, souls that are good only to crawl on high with plans that all end in smoke; who lick the plates of the rich, and miaul together with their kind in aristocratic fashion, and all they know is only their own names, and then from what Tiger they are descended.

XVI. THE ATONEMENT DAY

... It is again the day of Atonement, but since that time thirty years have passed.

Again the synagogue is full of men wrapped in taliths and shrouds! The floor is strewn with hay now

wie demālt; in zwēi grōsse Kastens vull mit Samd vun bēide Seiten Bime brennen heunt die wächsene Neschome-licht wie mit dreissig Jāhr zurück, chotsch nāch andere, frische Neschomes, wās senen erst in die dreissig Jāhr Neschomes gewor'en. Un' see brennen manche still un' ruhig un' manche flackerndig un' schmelzendig, un' Jünglech Kundeessim chappen die Stücklech ābgeschmolzene Wachs äuch heunt wie a Māl.

Chotsch die Stimme vun dem Chasen is' itzt andersch, āber die Wörter, wās er sagt, un' der Nigen, wās er singt, senen dieselbe, gār dieselbe, nit geändert auf ēin Hāar.

Dieselbe senen äuch die Trähren, wās giessen sich heunt teichenweis dort hinter die varhangene Fensterlech in der weiberscher Schul, chotsch vun andere Äugen, vun andere gepeinigte Herzer fliessen see....

Auf dem Ort, wu mit dreissig Jāhr früher is' die unglückliche Mutter gestan'en un' bewēint ihr liebe Tochter, wās is' asō jung vun der Welt aweg, stēht heunt äuch a Mutter un' zugiesst ihr schwer Harz in hēisse Trähren. Sie wēint un' klāgt über ihr schoene Tochter, wās sie hāt sich a Māl gebentscht mit ihr, a Maedel, schoen wie Gold, wās is' pluzling wie vun a Kischef varführt gewor'en, un' wās mit ihr thut sich itzt, is' schwer un' bitter selbst auszurēden; un' die ständig getreue Mutter bet' itzt mit Trähren, hēiss wie Feuer, nit Gesund, nit lange Jāhren far ihr Kind, āber a Tōdt a gichen, wās wet gleicher sein far dem Kind noch mehr wie far der Mutter.

Sie hāt noch ihr mütterliche Treuheit in ihr Harzen, wie noch ēhder das Unglück is' geschehn.... Nor take derfar bett' sie bei Gott asō hēiss ot dem Tōdt auf ihr Kind. Kēin bessere Sach seht sie nit in der Welt un' kēin ander Sach kānn sie bei Gott dem lebedigen heunt

as then; in two large boxes filled with sand on both sides of the altar there are burning to-day the waxen soul-lights just as thirty years ago, though for other, fresh souls that have become souls only within the last thirty years. And they burn, some quietly and softly, and some flickering and melting, and urchins are now as then picking up the pieces of molten wax.

* * * * *

Although the voice of the Precentor is now different, yet the words which he says, and the tune which he sings, are the same, precisely the same, not a bit changed.

And the tears are the same that flow to-day in streams there behind the curtained windows in the woman's gallery, though from other eyes they flow, from other tortured hearts....

On the same spot where thirty years ago the unfortunate mother had been standing and mourning her beloved daughter who had departed so young from this world, there is to-day also standing a mother and dissolving her heart in hot tears. She is bewailing and lamenting her beautiful daughter who had once been her blessing, a girl, as pure as gold, who had been misled as if by witchery, and of whom it would be hard and bitter to say what she is doing now; and the ever-true mother prays now with tears, as hot as fire, not for health, not for long years for her child, but for quick death, which would be better for the child even than for the mother.

She still harbors her mother's truth in her heart, even as before the calamity had happened.... For that very reason she prays to God so fervently to grant death to her child. She sees no better thing in the world, and she can ask for no better thing to-day of the living God.

nit betten. Un' es giessen sich ihre Trähren still un' fallen über die Wörter vun ihre Tchines; sie halt dem Kopp in Ssider eingegrāben un' schämt sich ihre Äugen arauszunehmen, tomer begegnen see sich mit Äugen, wās wöllen ihr Schand' dersehn, wās is' wie a Fleck auf ihr Ponim gewor'en....

Un' punkt dort, wu die āreme Almone is' gestan'en mit dreissig Jāhr zurück un' hāt minutenweis gekuckt, ihre Jessomim in Schul zu sehn, ōb see dawnen, ōb see nehmen a jüdisch Wort in Maul arein, un' hāt gechlipet wēinendig, as ihre Äugen hāben nit gefun'en, wās see hāben gesucht, stēht heunt a jüdische Tochter un' kuckt durch dās Vorhangel, un' sie wēiss allēin nit, auf wemen sie kuckt mehr, zi auf ihr Mann, wās macht wilde Bewegungen mit bēide Händ' un' mit sein ganzen Körper, oder auf dem jungen Menschen, wās sitzt äuch in Misrach-wand nit weit vun ihm un' dawent wie a Jüd' un' sitzt ruhig wie a Mensch.

* * * * *

Welche Gedanken läufen ihr durch ihr Kopp itzund! Wieviel Trähren hāt sie vargossen vun jenem Tāg ān, as der junger Mann is' gewor'en aus Chossen ihrer un' der wilder Chossen is' ihr Mann, ihr Brōtgeber gewor'en! Wieviel Wunden trāgt sie seitdem still un' tief varschlossen in ihr jüdischen Harzen un' peinigt sich vun ihre ēigene Gedanken, wās tracht sich ihr nit wöllendig, nor sie hāt kēin Kōach nit, nit zu trachten. Un' wie bett' sie itzt Gott, er soll auslöschen dās sündige Feuer vun ihr sündig Harz, auslöschen All's, wās brennt un' kocht in ihr, sie soll vargessen, wās is' gewesen, nit wissen, wie es darf zu sein, nor ēin Sach soll sie wissen, wie lieb zu hāben ihr Mann, welcher wet un' mus ihr Mann bleiben bis ihr Tōdt! Sie soll ihm lieben bei alle seine Unmenschlichkeit, bei sein Wildkeit, un' selbst wenn

And her tears flow quietly and fall on the words of her Prayer; she holds her head buried on the Prayer-book and is ashamed to lift her eyes, lest they meet some eyes that may recognize her shame which has become as a spot upon her face....

* * * * *

And precisely there where the poor widow had been standing thirty years before and had looked every minute to catch a glimpse of her orphans, to see whether they were praying, whether they were reciting the Hebrew words, and had burst out in sobs when her eyes did not find that which she had been looking for, there is standing to-day a young Jewess, and she peeps through the curtain, and she does not know herself at whom she is looking more, whether at her husband who is wildly gesticulating with both his arms and his whole body, or at the young man who is also seated at the Eastern wall not far from him and is praying as behooves a Jew and is sitting quietly as behooves a man.