 Chapter 14 of Jewish Children by Shola Melechim Chapter 14 Boa as the Teacher Nothing my mother comforted me, and told me a good angel would throw me down a groan from the ceiling. It was not for nothing she gave me a whole apple, and kissed me on the brow. It was not for nothing she asked Boa as to deal tenderly with me, just a little more tenderly, because the child has only recovered from the measles. So said my mother, pointing to me, as if she were placing in Boa's hands a rare vessel of crystal, which, with one touch, would be a vessel no more, God forbid. My mother went home happy and satisfied, and the child that had only recovered from the measles remained behind, alone. He cried a little, but soon wiped his eyes, and was introduced to the holiness of the Torah, and a knowledge of the ways of the world. He waited for the good angel to throw him the groan from the ceiling. Ah, that good angel, that good angel! It would have been better if my mother had never mentioned his name, because when Boa's came over, took hold of me with his dry, bony hand, and thrust me into a chair at the table, I was almost faint, and I raised my head to the ceiling. I got a good portion from Boa's for this. He pulled me by the ear, and shouted, Devil, what are you looking at? Of course, the child that had only recovered from the measles began to wail. It was then he had his first good taste of the teacher's floggings. A little boy must not look where it is forbidden, a little boy must not bleed like a calf. Boa's system of teaching was founded on one thing, whippings. Why whippings? He explained the reason by bringing forward the case of the horse. Why does a horse go? Because it is afraid. What is it afraid of? Whippings. And it is the same for a child. A child must be afraid. He must fear God and his teacher and his father and his mother a sin and a bad thought, and in order that a child should be really afraid, he must be laid down in true style and given a score or so lashes. There was nothing better in the world than the rod. May the whip live long! So says Boa's. He takes the strap slowly in his hands, without haste, examines it on all sides as one examines a citron. Then he betakes himself to his work in good earnest, cheerfully singing a song by way of accompaniment. Wonder of wonders! Boa's never counts the strokes and never makes a mistake. Boa's flogs and is never angry. Boa's is not a bad tempered man. He is only angry when a boy will not let himself be whipped. Tries to tear himself free or kicks out his legs. Then it is different. At such times Boa's eyes are bloodshot and he flogs without counting and without singing his little song. A little boy must be still while his teacher flogs him. A little boy must have manners even when he is being flogged. Boa's is also angry if a boy laughs when he is being whipped. There are children who laugh when they are being beaten. People say this is a disease. To Boa's laughing is a danger to the soul. Boa's has never laughed as long as he is alive and he hates to see anyone else laughing. One might easily have promised the greatest reward to the person who could swear he once saw Boa's laughing. Boa's is not a man for laughter. His face is not made for it. If Boa's laughed he would surely look more terrible than another man crying. There are such faces in the world. And really what sort of a thing is laughter? It is only idlers who laugh. Empty-headed ghouls. Good for nothing's devil may care sort of people. Those who have to work for a living or carry on their shoulders the burden of a knowledge of the holy law and of the ways of the world have no time to laugh. Boa's never has time. He is either teaching or whipping. That is to say he teaches while he whips and he whips while he teaches. It would be hard to divide these two where teaching ended and whipping began. And you must know that Boa's never whipped us for nothing. There was always a reason for it. It was either for not learning our lessons, for not wanting to pray well, for not obeying our fathers and mothers, for not looking in or for not looking out, for just looking, for praying too quickly, for praying too slowly, for speaking too loudly, for speaking too softly, for a torn coat, a lost button, a pull or a push, for dirty hands, a soiled book, for being greedy, for running, for playing, and so on and so on without an end. One might say we were whipped for every sin that a human being can commit. We were whipped for the sake of the next world as well as this world. We were whipped on the eve of every Sabbath, every feast, and every fast. We were told that if we had not earned the whippings yet, we would earn them soon, please God. And Boa's gave us all the whippings we ought to have had from our friends and relatives. They gave the pleasant task into his hands. Then we got whippings of which the teacher said, You surely know yourself what they are for. And whippings just for nothing. Let me see how a little boy lets himself be whipped. In a word it was whippings, rods, leathers, fears and tears. These prevailed at that time in our foolish little world without a single solution to the problems they brought into being, without a single remedy for the evils, without a single ray of hope that we would ever free ourselves from the fiendish system under which we lived, and the good angel of whom my mother spoke. Where was he that good angel? I must confess that there were times when I doubted the existence of this good angel. Too early a spark of doubt entered my heart. Too early I began to think that perhaps my mother had fooled me. Too early I became acquainted with the emotion of hatred. Too early, too early, too early I began to hate my teacher, Boaz. And how could one help hating him? How, I ask you, could one help hating a teacher who does not allow you to lift your head? That you may not do, this you may not say. Don't stand here, don't go there, don't talk to so-and-so. How come one help hating a man who has it not in him a germ of pity, who rejoices in another's pains, bathes in another's tears, and washes himself in other's blood? Can there be a more shameful word than flogging? And what can be more disgraceful than to strip anybody stark naked and put him in a corner? But even this was not enough for Boaz. He required you to undress yourself to pull your own little shirt over your head and to stretch yourself face downwards. The rest Boaz managed. And not only did Boaz flog the boys himself, but his assistants helped him, his lieutenants, as he called them, naturally under his direction, lest they might not deliver the full number of strokes. A little less learning and a little more flogging was his rule. He explained the wisdom of his system in this way. Too much learning dals a boy, and a whipping too many does not hurt, because what the boy learns goes straight to his head and his senses are quickened and his brain's loaded. With the floggings it is the exact opposite. Before the effects of the flogging reach the brain, the blood is purified and by this means the brain is cleared. Well, do you understand? And Boaz never ceased from purifying our blood and clearing our brain and woe unto us. We did not believe any more in the good angel that looked down upon us from above. We realized that it was only a fairy-tale, an invented story by which we were fooled into going to Boaz Haida. And we began to sigh and groan because of our sufferings under Boaz. And we also began to make plans to talk and argue about how to free ourselves from our galling slavery. In the melancholy moments between daylight and darkness, when the fiery red sun is about to bid farewell to the cold earth for the night, in these melancholy moments when the happy daylight is departing and on its heels is treading silently the still night with its lonely secrets, in these melancholy moments when the shadows are climbing on the walls, growing broader and longer, in these melancholy moments between the afternoon and the evening prayers, when the teacher is at the synagogue and his wife is milking the goat or washing the crockery or making the borscht, then we youngsters came together at Haida beside the stove. We sat on the floor, our legs curled up under us like innocent lambs. And there in the evening darkness we talked of our terrible Titus, our Angel of Death, Boaz. The bigger boys who had been at Haida some time told us the most awful tales of Boaz. They swore by all the oaths they could think of that Boaz had flogged more than one boy to death that he had already driven three women into their graves and that he had buried his one and only son. We heard such wild tales that our hair stood on end. The older boys talked and the younger listened, listened with all their senses on the alert. Black eyes gleamed in the darkness. Young hearts palpitated and we decided that Boaz had no soul. He was a man without a soul such a man is compared to an animal to an evil spirit that it is a righteous act to get rid of. Thousands of plans, foolish childish plans were formed in our childish brains. We hoped to rid ourselves of our Angel of Death as we called Boaz. Foolish children these foolish plans buried themselves deep in each little heart that cried out to the Lord to perform a miracle. We asked that either the book should be burned so the strap he whipped us with taken to the devil or or no one wished to speak of the last alternative. They were afraid to bring it to their lips. An evil spirit worked in their hearts. The young fancies were incandled and the boys were carried away by golden dreams. They dreamed of freedom, of running downhill, of wading barefoot in the river, playing horses, jumping over the logs. They were good, sweet, foolish dreams that were not destined to be realized. There was heard a familiar cough, a familiar footfall and our hearts were frozen. All our limbs were paralyzed, deadened. We sat down at the table and started our lessons with as much enthusiasm as if we were starting for the gallows. We were reading aloud but still our lips muttered Father in heaven, will there never come an end to this tyrant, this pharaoh, this Heyman, this Gogmagog or will there ever come a time when we shall be rid of this hard, hopeless, dark tyranny? No, never, never. That is the conclusion we arrived at, poor, innocent, foolish children. Children, do you want to hear of a good plan that will rid us of our Gogmagog? That was what one of the boys asked us on one of those melancholy moments already described. His name was Velvetele Leib Arius. He was a young heathen. When he was speaking his eyes gleamed in the darkness like those of a wolf. And the whole school of boys crowded around Velvetele to hear the plan by which we might get rid of our Gogmagog. Velvetele began his explanation by giving us a lecture. How impossible it was to stand Boas any longer! How the ashmadi was bathing in our blood! How he regarded us as dogs worse than dogs because when a dog is beaten with a stick it may at any rate howl and we might not do that either and so on and so on. After this Velvetele said to us listen children to what I will ask you I am going to ask you something. Ask it! We all cried in one voice. What is the law in a case where for example one of us suddenly becomes ill? It is not good, we replied. No, I don't mean that. I mean something else. I mean if one of us is ill does he go to Heide or does he stay home? Of course he stays home we all answered together. Well, what is the law if two of us get ill? To remain home. Well, and if three get ill? Velvetele went on asking us and we went on answering him. Three stay at home. What would happen if for example we all took ill? We should all stay home. Then let the sickness come upon us all he cried joyfully. We replied angrily the Lord forbid are you mad or have you lost your reason? I am not mad and I have not lost my reason only you are fools, yes? Do I mean that we are to be really ill? I mean that we are to pretend to be ill so that we shall not have to go to Heide. Do you understand me now? When Velvetele had explained his plan to us we began to understand it and to like it and we began to ask ourselves what sort of an illness we should suffer from. One suggested to take another headache a third stomach ache a fourth worms but we decided it was not going to be toothache nor headache nor stomach ache nor worms. What then? We must all together complain of pains in our feet because the doctor could decide whether we really suffered from any of the other illnesses or not but if we told him we had pains and were unable to move them he could do nothing. Remember children you are not to get out of bed tomorrow morning and so that we all may be certain that not one of us will come to Heide tomorrow let us promise one another take an oath. So said our comrade Velvetele and we gave each other our promise and took an oath that we would not be at Heide we went home from Heide that evening lively joyful and singing we felt like giants who knew how to overcome the enemy and win the battle. End of Chapter 14 Chapter 15 of Jewish Children by Sholom elechem this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information please visit LibriVox.org Jewish Children Yiddishakinda by Sholom elechem translated by Hannah Berman and read by Adrian Pretzelis Chapter 15 The Spinning Top The Daidel More than any of the boys at Heide more than any boy of the town are more than any person in the world I loved my friend Benny Polkovoi the feeling I had for him was a peculiar combination of love, devotion and fear I loved him because he was handsomer, cleverer and smarter than any other boy he was kind and faithful to me he took my part fought for me and pulled the ears of those boys who annoyed me and I was afraid of him because he was big and quarrelsome he could beat whom he liked and when he liked he was the biggest, oldest and wealthiest boy in the Heide his father Mya Polkovoi though he was only a regimental tailor was nevertheless a rich man and played an important part in public affairs he had a fine house a seat in the synagogue beside the ark at the Passover his matzer was baked first at the Feast of Tabernacles Tron was the best on the Sabbath he always had a poor man to meals he gave away large sums of money in charity and he himself went to the house of another to lend him money as a favour he engaged the best teachers for his children in a word Mya Polkovoi tried to refine himself to be a man amongst men he wanted to get his name inscribed in the books of the best society but did not succeed in our town, Mazepevka it was not easy to get into the best society we did not forget readily a man's antecedents a tailor may try to refine himself for twenty years in succession but he will still remain a tailor to us I do not think there is soap in the world that will wash out this stain How much do you think Mya Polkovoi would have given to have us blot out the name bestowed upon him Polkovoi his misfortune was that his family was a thousand times worse than his name just imagine in his passport he was called Mya Mosovic Heifer it is a remarkable thing may Mya's great-great-grandfather have a bright paradise he also must have been a tailor when it came to giving himself a family name he could not find a better one than Heifer he might have called himself Thimble Lining Buttonhole Big Patch Long Figure these are not family names either it is true but they are in some way connected with tailoring but Heifer what did he like in the name of Heifer you might ask why not Goat are there not people in the world called Goat you may say what you like Heifer and Goat are equally nice still they are not the same a Heifer is not a goat but we will return to my friend Benny Benny was a nice boy with yellow, tousled hair white puffed out cheeks scattered teeth and peculiar red bulging fishy eyes those red fishy eyes were always smiling and roguish he had a turned up nose his whole face had an expression of impudence nevertheless I liked his face and we became friends the first hour we met we met for the first time at Haider at the teacher's table when my mother took me to Haider the teacher was sitting at his table with the boys teaching them the book of Genesis he was a man with thick eyebrows and a pointed cap he made no fuss of me he asked me no questions neither did he take my measurements but said to me get over there on that bench between those two boys I got on the bench between the boys and was already a pupil there was no talk between my mother and the teacher they had made all arrangements beforehand remember to learn as you ought said my mother from the doorway she turned to look at me again lovingly, joyfully I understood her look very well she was pleased that I was sitting with nice children and learning the Torah and she was pained because she had to part with me I must confess I felt much happier than my mother I was amongst a crowd of new friends may no evil I harm them they looked at me and I looked at them but the teacher did not let us idle for long he shook himself and shouted aloud the lesson we had to repeat after him at the top of our voices now the serpent was more subtle than any beast of the field boys who sit so close together though they shake and shout aloud cannot help getting to know one another or exchange a few words and so it was Benny Polkavoy who sat crushing me pinched my leg and looked into my eyes he went on shaking himself and shouting out the lesson with the teacher and the other boys but he threw his own words into the middle of the sentence we were translating and Adam knew here are buttons for you Eve his wife give me a locust bean and I will give you a pull of my cigarette I felt a warm hand in mine and I had some smooth buttons I confess I did not want the buttons and I had no locust beans neither did I smoke cigarettes but I liked the idea of the thing and I replied in the same tones in which the lesson was being recited and she conceived and bear cane who told you I have locust beans that is how we converse the whole time until the teacher suspected that though I shook myself to and fro my mind was far from the lesson he suddenly put me through an examination listen you whatever your name is you surely know whose son Cain was and the name of his brother this question was as strange to me as if he had asked me when there would be a fair in the sky or how to make cream cheese from snow so that they should not melt in reality my mind was elsewhere I don't know where why do you look at me so don't you hear me I want you to tell me the name of the first man and the story of Cain and his brother Abel the boys were smiling smothering their laughter I did not know why fool say you do not know because we have not learnt it whispered Benny in my ear digging me with his elbow I repeated his words like a parrot and the cater was filled with loud laughter looking at I asked myself and looked at them and at the teacher all were rolling with laughter and at that moment I counted the buttons from one hand into the other there were exactly half a dozen well little boy show me your hand what are you doing with them and the teacher bent down and looked under the table you are clever boys and you will understand yourselves what I had from the teacher on my first day at Haida whippings heal up shame is forgotten Benny and I became good friends we were one soul this is how it came about next morning I arrived at Haida with my Bible in one hand and my dinner in the other the boys were excited jolly why the teacher was not there what had happened he had gone off to a circumcision with his wife that is to say not with her God forbid a teacher never walks with his wife the teacher walks before and his wife after him let us make a bet cried a boy with a blue nose his name was Hosea Hessel how much shall we bet asked another boy he had a torn sleeve out of which peeped the point of a dirty elbow a quarter of the locust beans let it be a quarter of the locust beans what for let us hear I say he will not stand more than 25 and I say 36 36 we shall soon see boys take hold of him this was the order of Hosea Hessel of the blue nose and several boys took hold of me all together turned me over on the bench face upwards two sat on my legs one on my arms and one held my head so that I should not be able to wriggle and another placed his left forefinger and thumb at my nose it seemed he was left handed he curled up his finger and thumb closed his eye and began to fill up me on the nose and how do you think each time I saw my father in the other world murderers slaughterers what had they against my nose done to them whom had it bothered what had they seen on it a nose like all noses boys count commanded Hosea Hessel one two three but suddenly nearly always since ever the world began when a misfortune happens to a man when robbers surround him in a wood bind his hands sharpen their knives tell him to say his prayers to finish him off there comes a wood man with a bell the robbers run away and the man lifts his hands on high and praises the Lord for his deliverance it was just like that with me and my nose I don't remember whether it was at the fifth or sixth blow that the door opened and Benny Polkvoy came in the boys freed me at once and remained standing like blocks of wood Benny took them in hand one by one he caught each boy by the ear twisted it round and said well now you will know what it means to meddle with a widow's boy from that day the boys did not touch either me or my nose they were afraid to begin with the widow's boy whom Benny had taken under his wing into his guardianship under his protection the widow's boy had a mother name at Haida this was because my mother was a widow she supported herself by her own work she had a little shop in which were, for the most part so far as I can remember chalk and locust beans the two things that sell best in Mazapevka chalk is wanted for whitewashing the houses and locust beans are a luxury they are sweet and they are light in weight they are cheap schoolboys spend on them all the money they get for breakfast and dinner and the shopkeepers make a good profit out of them I could never understand why my mother was always complaining that she could hardly make enough to pay the rent and my school fees why school fees? what about the other things a human being needs food and clothes and boots, for example she thought of nothing but the school fees she punished me, she wailed and took my husband from me and such a husband and left me all alone I want my son to be a scholar at any rate what do you say to that do you think she did not come frequently to the Haida and find out how I was getting on I say nothing of the prayer she took good care I should recite every morning she was always lecturing me to be even half as good as my father and whenever she looked at me she said I was exactly like him may I have longer years than he and her eyes grew moist her face grew curiously care-worn and had a mournful expression I hope he will forgive me I mean my father from the other world but I could not understand what sort of a man he had been from what my mother told of him he was always either praying or studying had he never been drawn like me out into the open on summer mornings when the sun was not burning yet and was just beginning to show in the sky marching rapidly onwards a fiery angel in a fiery chariot drawn by fiery horses into whose brilliant burning guinea gold faces it was impossible to look I ask you what taste have the weekday prayers on such a morning what sort of a pleasure is it to sit and read in a stuffy room when the golden sun is burning and the air is hot as an iron frying pan on such a time you are tempted to run down the hill to the river the beautiful river that is covered with a green slime a peculiar odour as of a warm bath comes from the distance you want to undress and jump into the warm water under the trees it is cool and the mud is soft and slippery and the curious insects that live at the bottom of the river whirl around and about before your eyes and curious long legged flies skip and slide on the surface of the water at such a time one desires to swim over to the other side over to where the green flags grow the yellow and white stalks shimmering in the sun a green fresh fern and you go after it plush plush into the water hands down and feet up so that people might think you were swimming I ask you again what pleasure is it to sit in a little room on a summer's evening when the great dome of the sky is dropping over the other side of the town lighting up the spire of the church the shingle roofs of the baths and the big windows of the synagogue and on the other side of the town in common the goats are bleeding and the lambs are frisking the dust rising to the heavens the frogs croaking there is a tearing and a shrieking and a tumult as at a regular fair who thinks of praying at such a time but if you talk to my mother she will tell you that her husband peace be unto him did not succumb to temptations he was a different sort of man what sort of a man he was I do not know asking his pardon I only know that my mother annoys me very much she reminds me every minute that I had a father and throws it into my teeth that she has to pay my school fees for me for this she asks only two things of me that I should learn diligently and say my prayers willingly it could not be said that the widow's boy did not learn well not in any way behind his comrades but I cannot guarantee that he said his prayers willingly all children are alike and he was as mischievous as any other boy he, like the rest, was fond of running away and playing though there is not much to be said of the play of Jewish children they tie a paper bag to a cat's tail so that she may run through the house like mad smashing everything in her way and lock the woman's portion of the synagogue from the outside on Friday nights so that the women may have to be rescued they nail the teacher's shoes to the floor or seal his beard to the table with wax when he is asleep but oh how many thrashings do they get when their tricks are found out it may be gathered that everything must have an originator a commander, a head, a leader who shows the way to a leader, our commander was Benny Polkovoi from him all things originated and on our heads were the consequences Benny of the fat face and red fishy eyes always managed to escape scot-free from the scrapes he was always innocent as a dove whatever tricks or mischief we did we always got the idea from Benny who taught us to smoke cigarettes in secret letting the smoke out through our nostrils Benny who told us to slide on the ice in winter with the peasant boys Benny who taught us to gamble with buttons to play odd or even and lose our breakfasts and dinners Benny he was up to every trick and taught us them all he won our last grossions from us and when it came to anything it disappeared playing was to us the finest thing in the world and for playing we got the severest thrashings from our teacher he said he would tear out of us the desire to play play in my house you will play with the angel of death said the teacher and he used to empty our pockets of everything and thrash us most liberally but there was one week of the year when we were allowed to play why do I say allowed it was a righteous thing to play then and that week was the week of Chanukah and we played with spinning tops dreidels it is true that the games of cards bridge and wist for example which are played at Chanukah nowadays have more sense in them than the old game of spinning tops but when the play is for money it makes no difference what it is I once saw two peasant boys beating one another's heads against the wall when I asked them why they were doing this if they were out of their minds they told me to go my road they were playing a game for money which of them would get tired the soonest of having his head banged on the wall the game of spinning tops that have four corners each marked with a letter of the alphabet and unlike dice is very exciting to lose one's soul playing it it is not so much the loss of the money as the annoyance of losing why should the other win why should the top fall on the letter Gimmel for him and on Noon for you I suppose you know what the four letters stand for Noon means no use Hay means half base means bad and Gimmel means good the top is a sort of lottery whoever is fortunate wins take for example Benny Polkvoy no matter how often he spins the top it always falls on the letter Gimmel the boys said it was curious how Benny won they kept putting down their money he took on their bets what did he care he was a rich boy Gimmel again it's curious they cried and again staked their money Benny whirled the top it spun round and round and wobbled from side to side like a drunkard and fell down Gimmel said Benny Gimmel again Gimmel it's extraordinary said the boys scratching their heads and again opening their purses the game grew more exciting the players grew hot staked their money crushed one another the teams to get nearer the table and called each other peculiar names black tomcat creased cap split coat and the like they did not see the teacher standing behind them in his woollen cap and coat and carrying his talism to fill in under his arm he was going to the synagogue to say his prayers and seeing the crowd of excited boys he drew near to watch the play this day he does not interfere it is Chanukah we are free for eight days on end and may play as much as we like but we must not fight nor pull one another by the nose the teacher's wife took her sickly child in her arms and stood at her husband's shoulder watching the boys risk their money and how Benny took on all the bets Benny was excited burning a flame a blaze he whirled the top and round and round wobbled and fell down Gimmel all over again it's a regular pantomime Benny showed us his smartness and his quick-wittedness so long until our pockets were empty he thrust his hands into his pockets as if challenging us well, who wants more we all went home we carried away with us the heartache and the shame of our losses when we got home we had to tell lies to account for the loss of the money we had been given in honour of Chanukah one boy confessed he had spent his on locust beans another said the money had been stolen out of his pocket the previous night a third came home crying he said he had bought himself a pocket knife well, why was he crying he had lost the knife on his way home I told my mother a fine story a regular Arabian night's tale and got out of her a second Chanukah present of ten grossions I ran off with them to Benny played for five minutes, lost to him and flew back home and told my mother another tale in a word, brains were at work and heads were busy inventing lies lies flew about like chaff in the wind and all our Chanukah money went into Benny's pockets and was lost to us forever one of the boys became so absorbed in the play that he was not satisfied to lose only his Chanukah money but went on gambling through the whole eight days of the festival and that boy was no other than myself the widow's son you must not ask where the widow's boy got the money to play with the great gamblers of the world who have lost and won fortunes estates and inheritances they will know and understand woe is me may the hour never be known on which the evil spirit of gambling takes hold of one there is nothing too hard for him he breaks into houses gets through iron walls and does the most terrible thing imaginable it's a name to conjure with the spirit of gambling first of all I began to make money by selling everything I possessed one thing after the other my pocket knife my purse and all my buttons I had a box that opened and closed and some wheels of an old clock good brass wheels that shone like the sun when they were polished I sold them all at any price flew off and lost all my money to Benny I always left him with a heart full of wounds and the bitterest annoyance and greatly excited I was not angry with Benny God forbid what had I against him how was he to blame if he always won at play if the top fell on the gimmel for me he said I should win if it falls on the gimmel for him then he wins and he is quite right no I am only sorry for myself for having run through so much money my mother's hard-earned grossions and for having made away with all my things I was left almost naked I even sold my little prayer-book oh that prayer-book that prayer-book when I think of it my heart aches and my face burns with shame it was an ornament not a book my mother bought it of Pettichai the peddler on the anniversary of my father's death and it was a book of books a good one a real good one thick full of everything it had every prayer one could mention the song of songs the ethics of the fathers and the Psalms and the Haggadah and all the prayers of the whole year round then the print and the binding and the gold lettering it was full of everything I tell you each time Pettichai the peddler came round with his cut moustache that made his care-worn face appear as if it was smiling each time he came round and opened his pack outside the synagogue door I could not take my eyes off that prayer-book what would you say little boy asked Pettichai as if he did not know that I had my eyes on the prayer-book and had had it in my hand seventeen times each time asking the price of it nothing I replied just so and I left him so as not to be tempted ah mother you should see the fine thing Pettichai the peddler has what sort of a thing asked my mother a little prayer-book if I had such a prayer-book I would I don't know myself what I would do haven't you got a prayer-book and where is your father's prayer-book you can't compare them this is an ornament and my book is only a book an ornament? repeated my mother are there then more than prayers in an ornamental book or do the prayers sound better well can you explain an ornament to your mother a really fine book with red covers and blue edges and a green back come said my mother to me one evening taking me by the hand come with me to the synagogue tomorrow is the anniversary of my father's death we will bring candles to be lit for him and at the same time we will see what sort of a prayer-book it is that Pettichai has I knew beforehand that on the anniversary of the death of my father I could get from my mother anything I asked for even to the little plate from heaven as the saying is and my heart beat with joy when we got to the synagogue we found Pettichai with his pack opened you must know Pettichai was a man who never hurried he knew very well he was the only man at the fair his customers would never leave him before he opened his pack and spread out his goods it took a year I trembled I shook I could hardly stand on my feet and he did not care it was as if we were not talking to him at all Lord of a prayer-book it is you have said my mother Pettichai had plenty of time the river was not on fire slowly without haste he opened his pack and spread out his wares big bibles little prayer-books for men and for women big psalm-books and little and books for all possible occasions without an end then there were books of tales from the Talmud tales from the Bolshom Tove books of sermons and books of devotion I imagined he would never run short he was a well a fountain at last he came to the little books and handed out the one I wanted is this all asked my mother such a little one this little one is dearer than a big one answered Pettichai and how much do you want for the little squirrel God forgive me for calling it by that name you call a prayer-book a squirrel? asked Pettichai he took the books slowly out of her hand and my heart was torn well say how much is it asked my mother but Pettichai had plenty of time he answered her in a sing-song voice how much is the little prayer-book it will cost you it will cost you I'm afraid it is not for your purse my mother cursed her enemies that they might have black hideous dreams and asked him to say how much Pettichai stated the price my mother did not answer him she turned towards the door took my hand and said to me come let us go we have nothing to do here don't you know that Reb Pettichai is a man who charges famine prices I followed my mother to the door and though my heart was heavy I still hoped the Lord would pity us and Pettichai would call us back but Pettichai was not that sort of a man he knew we should turn back of our own accord and so it was my mother turned round and asked him to talk like a man Pettichai did not stir he looked at the ceiling and his pale face shone we went off and returned once more curious Jew Pettichai said my mother to me afterwards may my enemies have the plague if I would have brought the prayer-book from him it is at a famine price as I live it is a sin the money could have gone for your school fees but it's useless for the sake of tomorrow the anniversary of your father's death peace be under him I have bought you the prayer-book as a favour you must do me a favour in return promise me that you will say your prayers faithfully every day whether I really prayed as faithfully as I had promised or not I will not tell you but I loved the little book as my life you may understand that I slept with it though as you know it is forbidden the whole Cheda envied me that little book I minded it as if it were the apple of my eye and now this Hanukkah woe unto me I carried it off with my own hands to Moshe, the carpenter's boy who had long had his eye on it and I had to beg of him for an hour on end before he bought it I almost gave it away for nothing the little prayer-book my heart faints and my face burns with shame sold and to what end for who's sake for Benny's sake that he might win off me another few co-pecs and how is Benny to blame if he wins at play that's what a spinning top is for explained Benny putting into his purse my last few grossions if things went with you as they are going with me then you would be winning but I am lucky and I win and Benny's cheeks glowed it is bright and warm in the house silver Hanukkah lamp is burning the best oil everything is fine from the chicken comes delicious odour of freshly melted goose fat we are having fritters tonight Benny told me in the doorway my heart was weak with hunger I flew home in my torn sheepskin my mother had come in from her shop her hands were red and swollen from the cold she was frozen through and through she was warming herself at the stove seeing me her face lit up with pleasure from the synagogue she asked from the synagogue was my lying answer have you said the evening prayer I have said the evening prayer was my second lie to her warm yourself my son you will say the blessing over the Hanukkah lights it is the last night of Hanukkah tonight thank God if a man had only troubles to bear without a scrap of pleasure he would never get over them but would surely take his own life I am referring to my mother the widow poor thing who worked day and night froze never had enough to eat and never slept enough for my sake why should she not have a little pleasure too every person puts his own meaning into the word pleasure to my mother there was no greater pleasure in the world than hearing me recite the blessings on Sabbaths and festivals at the Passover I carried out the Seder for her and at Hanukkah I made the blessing over the lights was the blessing over wine or beer had we for the Passover fritters or fresh mozza what were the Hanukkah lights a silver eight branched lamp with olive oil or candles stuck into pieces of potato believe me the pleasure was nothing to do with wine or fritters or a silver lamp the main thing is the blessing itself to see my mother's face when I was praying how it shone and glowed with pleasure was enough no words unnecessary no detailed description to prove that this was unalloyed happiness to her real pleasure I bent over the potatoes and recited the blessing sing song voice she repeated the blessing after me word for word in the same sing song she looked into my eyes and moved her lips I knew she was thinking at the time it is he he in every detail may the child have longer years and I felt I deserved to be cut to pieces like the potatoes surely I had deceived my mother and for such a base cause I had betrayed her from head to foot the candles in the potatoes my Chanukah lights flickered and flickered until they went out and my mother said to me wash your hands we are having potatoes and goose fat for supper in honor of Chanukah I brought a little measure of goose fat fresh beautiful fat I washed myself with pleasure and we sat down to supper it is a custom among some people to have fritters for supper on the last night of Chanukah said my mother sighing and there arose to my mind Benny's fritters and Benny's spinning top that had cost me all I possessed in the world I had a sharp pain in my heart more than all I regretted the little prayer book but of what use were regrets it was all over and done with even in my sleep I had uneasy thoughts I heard my mother's groans I heard her bed creaking and I imagined that it was my mother groaning out of doors the wind was blowing rattling the windows tearing at the roof whistling down the chimney sighing loudly a cricket had come to our house a long time before it was now chirping from the wall cheery cheery and my mother did not cease from sighing, groaning and each sigh and each groan echoed itself in my heart I only just managed to control myself I was on the point of jumping out of bed falling at my mother's feet kissing her hands and confessing to her all my sins I did not do this I covered myself with all the bed clothes so that I might not hear my mother's sighing and groaning and her bed creaking my eyes closed the wind howled and the cricket chirped cheery cheery cheery cheery and they spun around before my eyes a man like a top a man I seemed to know I could have sworn it was the teacher in his pointed cap he was spinning on one foot round and round and round his cap sparkled his eyes glistened no it was not the teacher it was a spinning top a curious living top with a pointed cap and earlocks by degrees the teacher top or the top teacher ceased from spinning round and in its place stood Pharaoh the king of Egypt whose story we had learnt the week before Pharaoh, king of Egypt stood naked before me he had only just come out of the river he had my little prayer-book in his hand I could not make out how that wicked king who had bathed in Jewish blood came to have my prayer-book and I saw seven cows lean and starved mere skin and bones with big horns and long ears they came to me one after the other they opened their mouths and tried to swallow me suddenly there appeared my friend Benny he took hold of their long ears and then twisted them round someone was crying softly sobbing, wailing howling and chirping a man stood near me he was not a human being he said to me softly tell me son on which day do you recite the mourner's prayer for me? I understood that this was my father of whom my mother had told me so many good things I wanted to tell him the day on which I must say my father's prayer for him but I had forgotten it I fretted myself I rubbed my forehead and tried to remind myself of the day but I could not did you ever hear the like? I forgot the day of the anniversary of my father's death listen Jewish children can you not tell me when the day is? why are you silent? help, help, help God be with you why are you shouting? why do you shriek? what is the matter with you? may the Lord preserve you you will understand it was my mother who was speaking to me she held my head I could feel her trembling and shaking the lowered lamp gave out no light but an oppressive stench I saw my mother's shadow dancing on the wall the points of the kerchief she wore on her head were like two horns her eyes gleamed horribly in the darkness when do I say the mourner's prayer mother? tell me, when do I say the mourner's prayer? God be with you the anniversary of your father's death was not long ago you have had a bad dream spit out three times tuh, tuh, tuh may it be for a good sign oh main, oh main, oh main children, I grew up and Benny grew up he became a young man with a yellowish beard and a round belly he wears a gold chain across it it seems he is a rich man we met in the train I remembered him by his fishy bulging eyes and his scattered teeth we had not met for a long time we kissed one another and talked of the good old times the dear good days of our childhood and the foolish things we did then do you remember, Benny, that Hanukkah when you won everything with the spinning top the gimmel always fell for you I looked at Benny he was convulsed with laughter he held his sides he was rolling over he was actually choking with laughter God be with you, Benny why this sudden burst of laughter, Benny oh, he cried oh, go away with your spinning top that was a good one it was a real top it was a pudding made only of suet it was a stew of nothing but rice it was a stew of nothing but raisins what sort of a top was it, Benny tell me quicker it was a top that had all around it on all the corners only the one letter gimmel End of Chapter 15 Chapter 16 of Jewish Children by Sholam Alechem this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Jewish Children Yiddishakinda by Sholam Alechem translated by Hannah Berman and read by Adrian Pretzelis Chapter 16 Esther I'm not going to tell you a story of Chaida or of the teacher or of the teacher's wife I have told you enough about them perhaps you will allow me this time in honor of the Feast of Purim to tell you a story of the teacher's daughter Esther if the Esther of the Bible was as beautiful a creature as the Esther of my story then it is no wonder she found favor in the eyes of King Arasaurus the Esther of whom I'm going to tell you was loved by everybody everybody even by me and by my older brother Motel although he was bummets for long ago and they were making up a match for him and he was wearing a watch and chain this good while if I'm not mistaken he had already started to grow a beard at the time I speak of and that my brother Motel loves Esther I am positive he thinks I do not know that he is going to Chaida with the teacher is a mere pretext a yesterday's day the teacher snores loudly the teacher's wife stands at the doorstep talking with the women we boys play around the room and Motel and Esther are staring she at him and he at her it sometimes happens that we boys play at blind man's buff do you know what blind man's buff is well then I will tell you you take a boy bandage his eyes with a canker chief place him in the middle of the floor and all the boys fly around him crying blind man blind man catch me Motel and Esther also play at blind man's buff with us they like the game because when they are playing it they can chase one another with her and I have many more proofs I could give you that but I am not that sort I once caught them holding hands he hers and she his and it was not on the Sabbath either but on a week day it was towards evening between the afternoon and the evening prayers he was pretending to go to the synagogue he strayed into Chaida the teacher the teacher is not here and he went and gave her his hand Esther that is I saw them he withdrew his hand and gave me a groan to tell no one I asked two and he gave me two I asked three and he gave me three what do you think if I had asked four or five or six would he not have given them but I am not that sort another time too something happened but enough of this I will rather tell you the real story the one I promised you as I told you my brother Mottel is grown up he does not go to Chaida anymore nor does he wish to learn anything at home for this my father calls him man of clay he has no other name for him my mother does not like it what sort of a habit is it to call a young man almost a bridegroom a man of clay my father says he is nothing else but a man of clay they quarrel about it I do not know what other parents do but my parents are always quarrelling day and night they are quarrelling if I were to tell you how my father and mother quarrel I will split your sides laughing but I am not that sort in a word my brother Mottel does not go to Chaida anymore nevertheless he does not forget to send the teacher a Purim present having been a pupil of his he sends him a nice poem in Hebrew illuminated with a shield of David and two paper rubles with whom does he send this Purim present with me of course my brother says to me here hand the teacher this Purim present when you come back I will give you ten grocians ten grocians is money but what then I want the money now my brother said I was a heathen I will not argue about it but I want to see the money said I who do you think won he gave me the ten grocians he handed me the teachers Purim present in a sealed envelope when I was going off he thrust into my hand a second envelope and said to me in a quick whisper and this you will give to Esther to Esther to Esther anyone else in my place would have asked twice as much for this but I am not that sort father of the universe thought I when I was going off with the Purim present what can my brother have written to the teacher's daughter I must have a peep only a peep I will not take a bite out of it I will only look at it and I opened Esther's letter and read a whole book of Esther I will repeat what was there word for word from Mordecai to Esther and there was a man a young man in Shushan our village his name was Mordecai and he loved a maiden called Esther and the maiden was beautiful charming and the maiden found favour in his eyes the maiden told this to no one because Mottle had asked her not to every day Mottle passes her house with a glimpse of Esther and when the time comes for Esther to get married Mottle will go with her under the wedding canopy what do you say to my brother how he translated the book of Esther I should like to hear what the teacher will say to such a translation but how comes the cat over the water hush there's a way as I am a Jew I will change the letters give the teacher's poem to Esther and Esther's letter to the teacher let him rejoice afterwards if there's a fine to do will I be to blame don't all people make mistakes sometimes does it not happen that even the postmaster of our village himself forgets to give up letters no such thing will ever happen to me I am not that sort good Yom Tov teacher I cried the moment I rushed into Heide in such an excited voice that he jumped my brother Mottle has sent you a pur in present and he wishes you to live to next year and I gave the teacher Esther's letter he opened it read it thought a while looked at it again turned it about on all sides of something search, search I said to myself and you will find something the teacher put on his silver spectacles read the letter and did not even make a grimace he only sighed no more later he said to me wait I will write a few lines and he took the pen and ink and started to write a few lines and meanwhile I turned around in the Heide the teacher's wife gave me a little cake and when no one was looking I put into Esther's hand the poem and the money intended for her father she reddened went into a corner and opened the envelope slowly her face burnt like fire and her eyes blazed dangerously she doesn't seem to be satisfied I thought I took from the teacher the few lines he had written good yom tov to you teacher I cried in the same excited voice as when I had come in may you live to next year and I was gone when I was on the other side of the door Esther ran after me her eyes were red with weeping here she said angrily give this to your brother on the way home on the way home I first opened the teacher's letter he was more important this is what was written in it my dear and faithful pupil Mordecai N I thank you many times for your poor impresent that you have sent me last year and the year before you sent me a real poor impresent but this year you sent me a new translation of the book of Esther I thank you for it but I must tell you Mottle that your rendering does not please me at all firstly the city of Shushan cannot be called our village then I should like to know where it says that Mordecai was a young man and why do you call him Mottle which Mottle and where does it say he loved a maiden the word referring to Mordecai and Esther means brought up and you're saying he will go with her under the wedding canopy is just idiotic nonsense the phrase you quote refers to Ahasuerus not to Mordecai then again it is nowhere mentioned in the book of Esther that Ahasuerus went with Esther under the wedding canopy does it need brains to turn a passage upside down each passage must have brains in it last year and the year before you send me something different this year you sent your teacher a translation of the book of Esther and a distorted translation into the bargain well perhaps it should be so anyhow I am sending you back your translation and may the Lord send you a good year according to the wishes of your teacher well that's what you call a slap in the face it serves my brother right I think he will never write such a book of Esther again having got through the teacher's letter I must see what the teacher's daughter writes on opening the envelope two paper rubles fell out what the devil does this mean I read the letter only a few lines Mottle I thank you for the two rubles you may take them back I never expected such a poor impresent from you I want no presence from you and certainly no charity ha ha what do you say to that she does not want charity a nice story as I am a Jewish child well what's to be done next anyone else in my place would surely have torn up the two letters and put the money in his pocket but I am not that sort I did a better thing than that you will hear what I argued with myself after this fashion when all is said and done I got paid by my brother Mottle for the journey so what do I want him for now I went and gave the two letters to my father I wanted to hear what he would say to them he would understand the translation better than the teacher though he is a father and the teacher is a teacher what happened after my father had read the two letters and the translation he took hold of my brother Mottle and demanded an explanation of him do not ask me anymore he want to know the end what happened to Esther the teacher's daughter and to my brother Mottle what could have happened Esther got married to a widower oh how she cried I was at the wedding why she cried so much I do not know it seemed that her heart told her she would not live long with her husband and so it was she lived with him only one half year and died I do not know what she died of I do not know no one knows her father and mother do not know either it was said she took poison just went and poisoned herself but it's a lie enemies have invented that lie said her mother the teacher's wife I heard her myself and my brother Mottle he married before Esther was even betrothed he went to live with his father in law but he soon returned what happened he wanted to divorce his wife said my father to him you are a man of clay my mother would not have this they quarrelled it was lively but it was useless he divorced his wife and married another woman and now has two children a boy and a girl the boy is called Herzl after Dr. Herzl and the girl is called Esther my mother wanted her to be named Gittle and my mother was dying for her to be called Leia after her mother there arose a quarrel between my father and mother they quarrelled a whole day and a whole night they decided the child should be named Leia Gittle after their two mothers afterwards my father decided he would not have Leia Gittle what is the sense of it why should her mother's name go first my brother Mottel came in from the synagogue and said he had named the child Esther said my father to him man of clay where did you get the name Esther from Mottel replied have you forgotten it will soon be purim well what have you to say now it's all over my father never calls Mottel since then but both of them my mother and my father exchanged glances and were silent what the silence and the exchange of glances meant I do not know perhaps you can tell me end of chapter 16 chapter 17 of Jewish Children by Sholam Alechem this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Jewish Children Yiddishakinda by Sholam Alechem translated by Hannah Berman and read by Adrian Pretzels chapter 17 the pocket knife listen children and I will tell you a story about a little knife not an invented story but a true one that happened to myself I never wished for anything in the world so much as for a pocket knife it should be my own and should line my pocket and I should be able to take it out whenever I wished to cut whatever I liked let my friends know I had just begun to go to school under Yossel Dadaki and I already had a knife that is what was almost a knife I made it myself I tore a goose quill out of a feather brush cut off one end and flattened out the other I pretended it was a knife and would cut what sort of feather is that what the devil does it mean why do you carry a feather about with you asked my father a sickly Jew with a yellow wrinkled face he had a fit of coughing here are feathers for you play toys what do you care if the child plays asked my mother of him she was a short built woman and wore a silk scarf on her head let my enemies eat out their brains later when I was learning the bible and the commentaries I very nearly had a real knife also of my own making I found a bit of steel belonging to my mother's crinoline and I set it very cleverly into a piece of wood I sharpened the steel beautifully on a stone and naturally cut all my fingers to pieces see how he has bled himself that son of yours said my father he took hold of my hands in such a way that the very bones cracked he's a fine fellow ah, may the thunder strike me cried my mother she took the little knife from me and threw it into the fire she took no notice of my crying now it will come to an end woe is me I soon got another knife but in reality a little knife a thick round wooden handle like a barrel and a curved blade which opened as well as closed you want to know how I came by it I saved up the money from what I got for my breakfasts and bought the knife for seven grossions from Solomon and owed him three more grossions oh, how I loved it how I loved it I came home from school black and blue hungry and sleepy and with my ears well boxed you see I had just started learning the gamara from Mottel, the angel of death if an ox gore a cow I learnt and if an ox gores a cow then I must get beaten and the first thing I did was to take out my pocket knife from under the black cupboard it lay there the whole day I dared not take it to school with me and at home no one must know that I have a knife I stroked it I cut a piece of paper with it I split a straw in halves and then cut up my bread into little cubes which I stuck on the tip of the blade and afterwards put into my mouth later before going to bed I cleaned the knife and scrubbed it and polished it I took the sharpening stone which I found in the hay loft spit on it and in silence began to work sharpening the little knife sharpening sharpening my father his little round cap on his head sat over a book he coughed and read read and coughed my mother was in the kitchen making bread I did not cease from sharpening my knife and sharpening it suddenly my father woke up as from a deep sleep who is making that hissing noise who is working what are you doing you young scamp he stood beside me and bent over my sharpening stone he caught hold of my ear a fit of coughing choked him ha ha ha little knives said my father and he took the knife sharpening stone from me such a scamp why the devil can't he take a book into his hand ha ha ha I began to cry my father improved the situation by a few slaps my mother ran in from the kitchen her sleeves turned up and she began to shout sha sha what's the matter here why do you beat him what have you against the child whoa it's me little knives said my father ending up with a cough a tiny child such a devil ha ha ha why the devil can't he take a book into his hand he's already a youth of eight years I will give you pocket knives you good for nothing you in the middle of everything pocket knives ha ha ha but what had he against my little knife how had it sinned in his eyes why was he so angry I remember that my father was nearly always ailing always pale and hollow-cheeked and always angry with the whole world for the least thing he flared up and would tear me to pieces unfortunately my mother defended me she took me out of his hands and that pocket knife of mine was thrown away somewhere for eight days on end I looked and looked for it but could not find it I mourned deeply for that curved knife the good knife how dark and embittered was my soul at school and I remembered that I would come home with a swollen face my head torn ears from the hands of model the angel of death because an ox gored a cow and I would have no one to turn to for comfort I was lonely without the curved knife lonely as an orphan no one saw the tears I shed in silence in my bed at night after I had come back from Haida in silence I cried my eyes out in the morning I was again at Haida and again I repeated if an ox gored a cow and again I felt the blows of model the angel of death again my father was angry coughed and swore at me I had not a free moment I did not see a smiling face there was not a single little smile for me anywhere not a single one I had nobody I was alone all alone in the whole world a year went by and perhaps a year and a half I was beginning to forget the curved knife it seems I was destined to waste all the years of my childhood because of pocket knives a new knife was created to my misfortune a brand new knife a beauty a splendid one as I live it was a fine knife it had two blades fine steel ones sharp as razors and a white bone handle and brass ends and copper rivets I tell you it was a beauty a real good pocket knife how came to me such a fine knife that was never meant for such a sigh that is a whole story a sad but interesting story listen to me attentively what value in my eyes had the German Jew who lodged with us the contractor here hurts, hurts and hurts when he spoke Yiddish went about without a cap had no beard or earlocks and had his coat tails cut off I ask you how could I have helped laughing at his face Jewish Gentile or Gentileish Jew talk to me in Yiddish but a curious Yiddish with a lot of ahs in it well dear boy what portion of the law will be read this week ha ha ha I burst out laughing and hid my face in my hands say, say my dear child what portion of the law will be read this week ha ha black I burst out with a laugh and ran away but that was only in the beginning before I knew him afterwards when I knew hair hurts, hurts and hurts better he lived at our house for over a year I loved him so well that I did not care if he said no prayers and ate his food without saying the blessings nevertheless I did not understand how he existed the Lord allowed him to remain in the world why was he not choked at table and why did the hair not fall out of his uncovered head I had heard from my teacher Mottl, the angel of death from his own mouth that this German Jew was only a spirit that is to say a Jew was turned into a German and later on he might turn into a wolf, a cow, a horse or maybe a duck a duck ha ha ha a fine story thought I but I was genuinely sorry for the German nevertheless I did not understand why my father who was a very orthodox Jew should pay the German Jew so much respect as also did the other Jews who used to come into our house peace be unto you red hurts and hurts blessed art thou who comes red hurts and hurts I once ventured to ask my father why this was so but he thrust me to one side and said go away it is not your business why do you get under our feet who the devil wants you why the devil can't you take a book into your hands ha ha ha again a book Lord of the world I also want to see what people are saying I went into the parlour hid myself in a corner and heard everything the men talked about hair hurts hurts and hurts laughed aloud and smoked thick black cigars that had a very strong smell suddenly my father came over to me and gave me a smack are you here to gain you idler and good for nothing what will become of you you dunce what will become of you ha ha ha it was no use my father drove me out I took a book into my hands but I did not want to read it what was I to do I went about the house from one room to the other until I came to the nicest room of all the room in which slept hair hurts hurts and hurts ah how beautiful and bright it was the lamps were lit and the mirror shone on the table was a big beautiful silver ink stand and beautiful pens also little ornaments men and animals and flowers and bones and stones and a little knife ah what a beautiful knife what if I had such a knife what fine things I would make with it maybe I should be well I must try it is it sharp ah it cuts a hair it slices up a hair oh oh oh what a knife one moment I held the knife in my hand I looked about me on all sides and slipped it into my pocket my hands trembled my heart was beating so loudly I could hear it saying tick tick tick I heard someone coming it was he hair hurts hurts and hurts ah what was I to do the knife might remain in my pocket I could put it back later on meanwhile I must get out of the room run away away far I could eat no supper that night my mother felt my head my father threw angry glances at me and told me to go to bed sleep could I close my eyes I was like dead what was I to do with the little knife how was I going to put it back again come over here my little ornament said my father to me the next day did you see the little pocket knife anywhere of course I was very much frightened it seemed to me that he knew everybody knew I was almost almost crying out the pocket knife here it is but something came into my throat and would not let me after a sound for a minute or so in a shaking voice I replied where what pocket knife where what knife my father mocked at me what knife the golden knife our guests knife you good for nothing you you dunce you what do you want of the child put in my mother the child knows nothing of anything and he worries him about the knife the knife the knife the knife how can he not know about it cried my father angrily all the morning he hears me shouting the knife the knife the knife the house is turned upside down for the knife and he asks where what knife go away go and wash yourself you good for nothing you you dunce dunce I thank the lord of the universe that they did not search me but what was I to do next the knife had to be hidden somewhere in a safe place where was I to hide it in the attic I took the knife quickly from my pocket and stuck it into my top boot I ate and I did not know what I was eating I was choking why are you in such a hurry what the devil asked my father I am hurrying off to school I answered and grew red as fire all of a sudden what do you say to such a saint he muttered and glared at me I barely managed to finish my breakfast and say grace well why are you not off to cater my saint asked my father why do you hunt him so asked my mother let the child sit a minute I was in the attic deep deep in a hole lay the beautiful knife in the silence what are you doing in the attic called my father you good for nothing you street boy I am looking for something I answered I nearly fell down with fright something what is this something what sort of a thing is this something a book a gamara what a gamara in the attic ah you scamp you calm down at once calm down you'll get it from me you street boy you dog-beater you rascal I was not so much afraid of my father's anger as that the pocket knife might be found who could tell perhaps someone would go up to the attic to hang out clothes to dry or to paint the rafters the knife must be taken down from there and hidden in a better place I went about in fear and trembling every glance at my father told me that he knew and that now now he was going to talk to me of the guest's knife I had a place for it a grand place in the ground in a hole near the wall I would put some straw on the spot to mark it the moment I came from Kheida I ran out into the yard I took the knife carefully from my pocket but had no time to look at it when my father called out where are you at all why don't you go and say your prayers you swine-herd you you are a water carrier ha ha ha ha but whatever my father said to me and as much as the teacher beat me it was all rubbish to me when I came home and had the pleasure of seeing my one and only dear friend my little knife the pleasure was alas mixed with pain and embittered by fear by great fear it is the summertime the sun is setting the air grows somewhat cooler the grass emits a sweet odour the frogs croak and the thick clouds fly by without rain across the moon they wish to swallow her up the silvery white moon hides herself every minute and shows herself again it seemed to me that she was flying and flying but it was still on the same spot my father sat down on the grass in a long mantle he had one hand in the bosom of his coat and with the other he smoothed down the grass he looked up at the star-spangled sky and coughed and coughed his face was like death silvery white he was sitting on the exact spot where the little knife was hidden he knew nothing of what was in the earth under him if he only knew what for instance would he say and what would happen to me aha I thought within myself you threw away my knife with the curved blade and now I have a nicer and a better one you are sitting on it and you know nothing oh father, father why do you stare at me at? asked my father why do you sit with folded arms like a self-satisfied old man can you not find something to do have you said the night prayer may the devil not take you scamp may an evil end not come upon you hahahaha when he says may the devil not take you and may an evil end not come upon you then he is not angry on the contrary it is a sign that he is in a good humour and surely how could one help being in a good humour on such a wonderfully beautiful night when everyone is drawn out of doors into the street under the soft, fresh, brilliant sky everyone is now out of doors my father my mother and the younger children who are looking for little stones playing in the sand her Hertz, Hertz and Hertz was going about in the yard without a hat smoking a cigar and singing a German song he looked at me and laughed probably he was laughing because my father was driving me away but I laughed at them all soon they would be going to bed and I would go out into the yard I slept in the open before the door in the great heat and I would rejoice in and play with my knife the house is asleep it is silent around and about cautiously I get up I am on all fours like a cat and I steal out into the yard the night is silent the air is fresh and pure slowly I creep over to the spot where the little knife lies buried I take it out carefully and look at it by the light of the moon it shines and glitters like guinea gold like a diamond I lift up my eyes and I see that the moon is looking straight down on my knife why is she looking at it so I turn round she looks after me maybe she knows whose knife it is and where I got it got it? stole it for the first time since the knife came into my hands has this terrible word entered my thoughts stolen? then I am in short a thief a common thief in the holy law in the ten commandments are written in big letters thou shalt not steal thou shalt not steal and I have stolen what will they do to me in hell for that whoa is me they will cut off my hand to the hand that stole they will whip me with iron rods they will roast and burn me in a hot oven I will glow forever and ever the knife must be given back the knife must be put back in its place I must not hold a stolen knife tomorrow I will put it back that was what I decided and I put the knife into my bosom I imagined it was burning, scorching me no, it must be hidden again buried in the earth till tomorrow the moon still looking down on me what was she looking at the moon saw she was a witness I crept back to the house to my sleeping place I lay down again but could not sleep I tossed about from side to side but could not fall asleep it was already day when I dozed off I dreamt of a moon I dreamt of iron rods and I dreamt of little knives I got up very early said my prayers with pleasure with delight while standing on one foot and marched off to Haida why are you in such a hurry for Haida cried my father to me what is driving you you will not lose your knowledge if you go a little later you will have time enough for mischief you scamp you epicurean you heathen why so late just look at this the teacher stopped me and pointed with his finger at my comrade Beryl the Red One who was standing in the corner with his head down do you see Bandit you must know that from this day his name is not Beryl the Red One as he was called he is now called a fine name his name is now Beryl the Thief shouted out children Beryl the Thief Beryl the Thief the teacher drew out the words and put a little tune into them the pupils repeated them after him like a chorus Beryl the Thief I was petrified a cold wave passed over my body I did not know what it all meant why are you silent you heathen you cried the teacher and gave me an unexpected smack in the face why are you silent you heathen don't you hear the other singing join in with them and help them Beryl the Thief my limbs trembled my teeth rattled but I helped the others to shout aloud Beryl the Thief Beryl the Thief louder heathen prompted the teacher in a stronger voice stronger and I along with the rest of the choir I could hear your voices Beryl the Thief Beryl the Thief sure sure sure cried the teacher banging the table with his open hand hush now we will take ourselves to pronouncing judgment he spoke in a sing-song voice ah well Beryl Thief come over here my child quicker a little quicker tell me my boy what your name is he also said in a sing-song Beryl what else Beryl Beryl the Thief that's right my dear child now you are a good boy may your strength increase and may you grow stronger in every limb still in the same sing-song take off your clothes that's right but can't you do it quicker I beg of you be quick about it that's right little Beryl my child Beryl stood before us as naked as when he was born not a drop of blood showed in his body he did not move a limb his eyes were lowered he was as dead as a corpse the teacher called out to one of the oldest scholars still speaking in the same sing-song voice well now hush Schiller come out from behind the table come here to me quicker so now tell us the story from beginning to end how our Beryl became a thief listen boys pay attention and hush Schiller began to tell the story Beryl had got the little collecting box of red Maya the wonder worker into which his mother threw a co-pack sometimes to every Friday before lighting the Sabbath candles Beryl had fixed his eyes on that box on which they hung a little lock by means of a straw gummed at the end he had managed to extract the co-packs from the box one by one his mother slatter the horse one suspecting something wrong opened the box and found in it one of the straws tipped with gum she beat her son Beryl and after the whipping she had prevailed on the teacher to give him to confess that for a whole year a round year he had been extracting the co-packs one by one and that every Sunday he had bought himself two little cakes some locust beans and and so forth and so forth now boys pronounce judgment on him you know how to do it this is not the first time let each give his verdict and say what must be done to a boy co-packs from a charity box by means of a straw the teacher put his head to one side he closed his eyes and turned his right ear to her shillar her shillar answered at the top of his voice a thief who steals co-packs from a charity box shall be flogged until the blood spurts from him Mo Shillar what shall we done to a thief who steals co-packs from a charity box a thief replied Mo Shillar in a wailing voice a thief who steals co-packs from a charity box should be stretched out two boys should be put on his head two on his feet and two should flog him with pickled rods topala tartaratu what is to be done to a thief who steals co-packs from the charity box couple Kakaraku a boy who could not pronounce the letters K and G wiped his face and gave his verdict in a squeaking voice a boy who steals co-packs from the charity box should be punished like this every boy should do over to him and shout in his face three times thief thief thief the whole school laughed the master put his thumb on his windpipe like a canter and called out to me as if I were a bridegroom being called up at the synagogue to read a portion of the law for the week tell me now my dear little boy what would you say should be done to a thief who steals co-packs from a charity box I tried to reply but my tongue would not obey me I shivered as with Agu something was in my throat choking me a cold sweat broke out all over my body there was a whistling in my ears I saw before me not the teacher nor the naked barrel the thief nor my comrades I saw before me only knives pocket knives without an end white open knives that had many blades and there beside the door hung the moon she looked at me and smiled like a human being my head was going round the whole room the table and the books and the boy and the moon that hung beside the door and the little knives all were whirling round I felt as if my two feet were chopped off another moment and I might have fallen down but I controlled myself with all my strength and I did not fall in the evening I came home and felt that my face was burning my cheeks were on fire and in my ears was a hissing noise I heard someone speaking to me but what they said I do not know my father was saying something and seemed to be angry he wanted to beat me my mother intervened she spread out her apron to defend her chickens from injury I heard nothing and did not want to hear I only wanted the darkness to fall sooner so that I might make an end of the little knife what was I to do with it confess everything and give it up then I would suffer the same punishment as barrel throw it carelessly somewhere but I may be caught throw it away and no more so long as I am rid of it where was I to throw it in order that it might not be found by anybody on the roof the noise would be heard in the garden it might be found ah I know I have a plan I'll throw it into the water a good plan as I live I'll throw it into the well that is in our own yard this plan please me so much that I did not wish to dwell on it any longer I took up the knife and ran straight to the well it seemed to me that I was carrying in my hand not a knife but something repulsive a filthy little creature of which I must rid myself at once but still I was sorry it was such a fine little knife for a moment I stood thinking and it seemed to me that I was holding in my hand a living thing my heart ached for it surely surely it has cost me so much heartache it is a pity for the living I summoned all my courage and let it out suddenly from my fingers plush the water bubbled up for a moment nothing more was heard and my knife was gone I stood a moment at the well and listened I heard nothing thank God I was rid of it my heart was faint and full of longing surely it was a fine knife such a knife I went back to bed and saw that the moon was still looking down at me and it seemed to me that she had seen everything I had done from the distance a voice seemed to be saying to me but you are a thief all the same catch him, beat him he is a thief, a thief I stole back into the house and into my own bed I dreamt that I ran swept through the air I flew with my little knife in my hand and the moon looked at me and said catch him, beat him he is a thief, a thief a long long sleep and a heavy, a very heavy dream a fire burnt within me my head was buzzing everything I saw was red as blood burning rods of fire cut into my flesh I was swimming in blood around me wiggled snakes and serpents they had their mouths open ready to swallow me right into my ears someone was blowing a trumpet and someone was standing over me and shouting, keeping time with his trumpet whip him, whip him, whip him he is a thief and I myself shouted oh, oh, take the moon away from me give her up the little knife what have you against poor barrel? he is not guilty it is I who am a thief a thief beyond that I remember nothing I opened one eye then the other where was I? on a bed, I think ah, is that you, mother, mother? she does not hear me mother, mother, mother what is this? I imagine I am shouting aloud sha, I listen she is weeping silently I also see my father with his yellow sickly face he is sitting near me an open book in his hand he reads and sighs and coughs and groans it seems that I am dead already dead? all at once I felt that it is growing brighter before my eyes everything is growing lighter too my head and my limbs are lighter there is a ringing in my ear and in my other ear chenya! I sneezed achya! good health may your days be lengthened may your years be prolonged it is a good sign blessed art thou, O Lord sneezed in reality blessed be the most high let us call at once mince the butcher's wife she knows how to avert the evil eye a doctor ought to be called the doctor the doctor for what? that is nonsense the most high is the best doctor blessed be the Lord and praised be his name go asunder people separate a bit it is terribly hot in the name of God go away ah yes I told you that you have to cover him with wax well who is right praised be the Lord and blessed be his holy name oh God God blessed be the Lord and praised be his holy name they fluttered about me they looked at me they came and felt my head they prayed over me and buzzed around me they licked my forehead and spat out by way of a charm they poured hot soup down my throat and filled my mouth with spoonfuls of preserves everyone flew around me they cared for me as if I were the apple of their eye they fed me with broths and tiny chickens as if I were an infant they did not leave me alone my mother sat by me always and told me over and over again the whole story of how they lifted me up from the ground almost dead and how I had been lying for two weeks on end burning like a fire croaking like a frog and muttering something about whippings and little knives they already imagined I was dead when suddenly I sneezed seven times I had practically come to life again now we see what a great god we have blessed be he and praised be his name that was how my mother ended up the tears springing to her eyes now we can see that when we call to him he listens to our sinful requests and our guilty tears we shed a lot a lot of tears your father and I until the Lord had pity on us we nearly nearly lost our child through our sinfulness may we suffer in your stead and through what through a boy who was a thief a certain barrel whom the teacher flogged at Haida almost until he bled when you came home from Haida you were more dead than alive may your mother suffer instead of you the teacher is a tyrant a murderer the Lord will punish him for it the Lord of the universe know my child if the Lord lets us live when you get well we will send you to another teacher not to such a tyrant as the angel of death may his name be blotted out forever these words made a terrible impression on me I threw my arms around my mother and kissed her dear dear mother and my father came over to me softly with his cold white hand on my forehead and said to me kindly without a trace of anger oh how you fright and dust you heathen you also the Jewish German or the German Jew her hurts hurts and hurts his cigar between his teeth bent over and touched my cheek with his clean shaven chin he said to me in German good good be well be well a few weeks after I got out of bed my father said to me well my son now go to Kheida and never think of little knives again or other such nonsense it is time you began to be a bit of a man if it pleased God you would be bar mitzvah in three years may you live to 120 he he he with such sweet words did my father send me off to Kheida to my new teacher it was the first time that I had heard such kind words from my father and I forgot in a moment all his harshness and all his abuse and all his blows it was as if they had never existed in the world if I were not ashamed I would have thrown my arms back and kissed him but how can one kiss a father ha ha ha my mother gave me a whole apple and three grossions to take to Kheida and the German gave me a few co-packs he pinched my cheek and said in his language best boy good good I took my gamara under my arm kissed the mezuzza and went off to Kheida like one newly born with a clean heart harsh pious thoughts the sun looked down and greeted me with its warm rays the little breeze stole in under one of my earlocks the birds twitted chip chip chip I was lifted up I was born on the breeze I wanted to run, jump, dance how good it is how sweet to be alive and to be honest with a thief and not a liar I pressed my gamara tightly to my breast and still tighter I ran to Kheida with pleasure with joy and I swore by my gamara that I would never never touch what belonged to another never never steal and never never deny anything again I would always be honest honest End of Chapter 17