Well, I arrived in Yehupetz and, as usual, quickly sold my dairy products. Then I began to look for my man. I looked around for an hour and two and then three — the man was not to be found! I stopped people along the way and asked them if they had seen or heard of Menachem-Mendl. “If,” they said, “his name is Menachem-Mendl, that’s not enough. There are lots of Menachem-Mendls around here. What’s his last name?”
“I haven’t any idea,” I said. “At home in Kasrilevka he’s known by his mother-in-law’s name, Menachem-Mendl Leah-Dvossi’s. What more do you need? His father-in-law, an elderly Jew, also goes by her name — Boruch-Hersh Leah-Dvossi’s, and even she, Leah-Dvossi, is called Leah-Dvossi Boruch-Hersh Leah-Dvossi’s. Now do you understand?”
“We understand,” they said, “but that’s still not enough. What is his business? What does he deal in, your Menachem-Mendl?”
“What does he deal in? He deals in gold imperials,” I said, “and options, and he sends off telegrams to Saint Petersburg, to Warsaw.”
“Oh?” They began to laugh, then laughed louder and louder. “You mean the crook Menachem-Mendl! Why don’t you just go across the street? There you’ll find brokers running around like rabbits, and yours is probably one of them.” The longer you lived, the more you learned, I thought. Rabbits — what were they talking about?
I crossed the street. Everywhere were Jews, kayn eyn horeh, like at a fair. It was crowded, impossible to push through. People were tearing around like madmen, this one here, that one there, one on top of the other — it was chaos. They were talking, screaming, waving their hands in the air: “Shares, stocks. . he gave me his word. . I need a down payment. . a fee. . you’re an idiot. . I’ll bash your head in. . spit in his face. . what a speculator. . chiseler. . your father’s father!” They almost came to blows. And Jacob fled. I thought I should run before they turned on me! But God is a Father, I am His servant, Yehupetz is a city, and Menachem-Mendl made money! Right here was where people got lucky with gold imperials. Was this what they meant by “doing business”? Woe unto me, Tevye, and my business, God help me.
To make a long story short, I stopped at a large shopwindow displaying trousers and saw in the reflection my so-called benefactor, Menachem-Mendl. My heart hurt when I saw him, so sorry did I feel for him! If ever I had an enemy, and if ever you had an enemy, may we hope to see them in the same state as Menachem-Mendl. His coat, his boots, were in terrible shape. And his face — God in heaven, a healthier face would have been delivered to the grave. So, if I died, that would be the end of me, I could kiss the few groschens goodbye. As they say: “Neither hide nor hair of them”—no merchandise, no money, only troubles.
For his part, Menachem-Mendl seemed abashed to see me, and we both stood as if frozen, unable to speak, just looking into each other’s eyes like two roosters, as if to say, We’re both miserable and cleaned out. We might as well take tin cups and go from house to house!
“Reb Tevye,” he said to me quietly, barely audibly, tears choking him, “Reb Tevye! Without luck, a man shouldn’t have been born! Rather than living like this, it is better to hang.” More he could not say.
“Surely,” I said to him, “for what you did, Mendl, you deserve to be laid out right in the center of Yehupetz and whipped so soundly you’d see Grandma Tzeitl from the Other World. Just think of what you’ve done. You took a household full of living souls, poor creatures, as innocent as lambs, and slit their throats without a knife! God in heaven,” I said, “how can I face my wife and children? Go on, tell me, you slaughterer, swindler, thief!”
“True,” he said, leaning against a wall. “True, Reb Tevye, may God help me.”
“Gehennam,” I said, “gehennam, you idiot, is too good for you, fool!”
“True, Reb Tevye,” he said, “true, may God help me. Rather than living like this, Reb Tevye. .” He lowered his head. The shlimazel hung his head down and leaned against the wall, his hat sliding down his head. I heard every sigh and groan. My heart went out to him.
“If you think about it,” I said, “one can understand very well that maybe you aren’t entirely to blame. Let’s consider the whole thing from both sides. To say you did it on purpose would be foolish because we were equal partners, fifty-fifty. I put in the money, you put in the brains, God help me! Your intention certainly was, as it is said, for life and not for death—you meant it for the best. Ay, the roof fell in? Maybe it wasn’t destined to be; as they say, “Don’t rejoice today, because tomorrow. .” Man proposes and God disposes.
“Take me, for example,” I said. “You would think I have a stable business, it can’t fail. Yet a year ago this autumn, it shouldn’t happen to anyone, my cow, a great bargain at fifty, laid down and died, and right after her a lovely little red calf, I wouldn’t take twenty for her. You see, I couldn’t do a thing about it. If it doesn’t go,” I said, “forget it!
“I don’t want to ask you what happened to my money. I know myself where you put my money, my hard-earned money, woe is me. It went into the grave, into those worthless stocks, never to be seen again. And who is to blame if not myself, who let you talk me into striking it rich, a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, empty dreams? Money, my friend, one has to earn by the sweat of one’s brow. One must toil over it, slave over it.” I said, “I deserve a trouncing. But what good is my complaining? As it is written: So the maiden cried. Shout until you’re blue in the face! Wisdom and regret — always they come too late. It wasn’t fated that Tevye become rich. As the Russian Ivan says, “The Jew never had any money and never will.” Maybe,” I said, “that’s the way God wants it to be. He giveth and He taketh away, says Rashi. Come, my friend, let’s have a little brandy!”
And that, Pani Sholem-Aleichem, is how the roof fell in, and with it all my dreams! Do you think I really took it to heart that I’d lost my money? May I know as much of evil! We know what it says in the Bible: The silver is mine and the gold is mine—money is worthless! The main thing is the person — that is, if he’s really a person. So what was rankling me? It was the dream that had vanished. I wanted, oh how I wanted, to be a rich man, if only for a little while! But what good did it do me? It is written: Regardless of thy will, thou livest—you live in spite of yourself, and in spite of yourself you wear out your boots. “You, Tevye,” says God, “have to keep your mind on butter and cheese, not in dreams.” And what of hope and faith? On the contrary, the more troubles you have, the more faith you must have, and the poorer you are, the more hope you must have. Do you want any more proof?
But I think I’ve gone on too long today. It’s time to go and tend to my business. As you’ll no doubt say, “All men are false.” Every man has his burden. Be well and have a good life!
TODAY’S CHILDREN
WRITTEN IN 1899.
You were talking about today’s children. Here’s what Isaiah said: I have nourished and brought up children—you bring them into the world, they make your life miserable, you sacrifice yourself for them, you slave away night and day, and what comes of it? You’d think that by raising them on what little you have, things would work out one way or the other. I’m not trying to compare myself with Brodsky, of course, but I’m not ready to sell myself short either. I’m not just anybody, and as my dear wife says, we do manage, and we don’t come from tailors or cobblers. So I figured that with my daughters it would surely work out. Why? First of all, God blessed me with pretty daughters, and as you yourself have said, a pretty face is half the dowry. And second of all, with God’s help I am these days not the same Tevye as before. I can aspire to the best match even in Yehupetz. What do you say to that?