The History of Yiddish Literature 3

The History of Yiddish Literature 3

With the same feeling that prompts the Jewish woman to repeat the prayer, 'O Lord, I thank Thee that Thou hast created me according to Thy will!' while the man prays, 'I thank Thee that Thou hast created me a man,' she regards her disappointments in love as perfectly natural; and the inconstancy of man, which forms the subject of all songs of unhappy love, does not call forth recriminations and curses, which one would expect, but only regrets at her own credulity. One would imagine that the wedding day must appear as the happiest in the life of the woman, but such is not the case. With it begin all the tribulations for which she is singled out; and the jest-maker, who is always present at the ceremony of uniting the pair, addresses the bride with the words:      Bride, bride, weep! The bridegroom will send you a pot full of      horseradish, and that will make you snivel unto your very teeth, inviting her to weep instead of smiling, and he follows this doggerel with a discussion of the vanities of life and the sadness of woman's lot. Even if her marital happiness should be unmarred by any unfaithfulness of her husband,--and Jewish men for the greater part are good husbands and fathers,--there are the cares of earning the daily bread, which frequently fall on the woman, while the stronger vessel is brooding over some Talmudical subtleties; there are the eternal worries over the babies, and, worst of all, the proverbial mother-in-law, if the wife chances to board with her for the first few years after marriage. The ideal of the Jewess is but a passing dream, and no one can escape the awakening to a horrible reality:     A Maedele werd a Kale     In ēin Rege, in ēin Minut,     Mit ihr freuen sich Alle     Die Freud' is' nor zu ihr.     Der Chossen schickt Presenten,     Sie werd gār neu geboren,     Wenn sie thut sich ān,     Wunscht sie ihm lange Jāhren.     Sie gēht mit'n Chossen spazieren     Un' thut in Spiegele a Kuck,     Stēhen Ōlem Menschen     Un' seinen mekane dem Gluck.     Ot fuhrt man sie zu der Chupe,     Un' ot fuhrt man sie zuruck,     Stēhen a Kupe Maedlach     Un' seinen mekane dem Gluck.     Auf morgen nāch der Chupe,     Die Freimut is' noch in Ganzen:     Der Chossen sitzt wie a Meelach     Un' die Kale gēht sich tanzen.     Drei Jāhr nāch der Chupe     Der Freimut is schōn arāb:     Die junge Weibel gēht arum     Mit a zudrēhter Kopp.            *       *       *       *       *     "Oi wēh, Mutter, Mutter,     Ich will vun dir nit horen,     Ich wollt' schōn besser wollen     Zuruck a Maedel wer'n!"      A girl is made a bride in a moment, in a minute,--all rejoice with      her, with her alone.--The groom sends presents, she feels all      new-born, when she attires herself, she wishes him long      years.--She gets ready to walk with the bridegroom, and looks into      the mirror,--there stands a crowd of people who envy her her good      luck.--Now she is led to the baldachin, now she is led back      again,--there stands a bevy of girls who envy her her luck.--The      next day after the marriage,--the joy is still with them: the      bridegroom sits like a king, the bride is a-dancing.--Three years      after the marriage,--the joy has left them: the young woman walks      around with a troubled head.... 'Woe to me, mother, mother, I do      not want to hear of you,--I should like, indeed, to be a young girl      again.' Pathetic are the recitals of suffering at the house of her husband's parents, where she is treated worse than a menial, where she is without the love of a mother to whom she is attached more than to any one else, and where she ends miserably her young years:[41]     Mein' Tochter, wu bist du gewesen?     Bei'm Schwieger un' Schwahr,     Wās brummt wie a Bar,     Mutter du liebe, du meine!     Mein Tochterl, awu hāst du dorten gesessen?     Auf a Bank,     Kēinmāl nit geramt,     Mutter du liebe, du meine!     Mein' Tochter, awu hāst du dorten geschlāfen?     Auf der Erd,     Kēinmāl nit gekehrt, etc.     Tochterulu, wās hāt man dir gegeben zu Koppen?     A Sackele Hēu,     In Harzen is' wēh, etc.     Tochterulu, in wās hāt man dir gefuhrt?     In kowanem Wāgen,     Mit Eisen beschlāgen, etc.     Tochterl, uber wās hāt man dir gefuhrt?     Uber a Bruck',     Kēinmāl nit zuruck, etc.     Tochterulu, mit wās hāt man dir gefuhrt?     Mit a Ferd,     Jung in der Erd',     Mutter du liebe, du meine!      My daughter, where have you been?--At mother-in-law's and      father-in-law's, who growls like a bear, mother dear, mother      mine!--My daughter, where did you sit there?--Upon a bench never      cleaned, mother dear, mother mine!--My daughter, where did you      sleep there?--Upon the ground, never swept, etc.--Daughter dear,      what did they lay under your head?--A bag of hay, in my heart there      is a pain, etc.--Daughter dear, in what did they drive you?--In a      wagon covered with iron bands, etc.--Daughter dear, over what did      they lead you?--Over a bridge, never back, etc.--Daughter dear,      with what did they drive you?--With a horse, young into the earth,      mother dear, mother mine! Equally pathetic are the songs that sing of widowhood. This is a far more common occurrence among Jews than among other people and causes much greater inconveniences to the helpless woman. It is caused either by the natural occurrences of death or by self-assumed exile to escape military service which is naturally not to the tastes of the Jew, as we shall see later, or frequently by ruthless abandonment. This latter case is the result of early marriages in which the contracting parties are not considered as to their tastes; often the young man finds awakening in himself an inclination for higher, Gentile, culture, but he finds his path impeded by the ties of family and the gross interests of his consort. If he can, he gets a divorce from her, but more frequently he leaves her without further ado, escaping to Germany or America to pursue his studies. His wife is made an _Agune_, a grass-widow, who, according to the Mosaic law, may not marry again until his death has been duly certified to:     Auf'n Barg stēht a Taubele,     Sie thut mit ihr Pāar brummen,     Ich hāb' geha't a guten Freund     Un' kann zu ihm nit kummen.     Bachen Trahren thuen sich     Vun meine Augen rinnen,     Ich bin geblieben wie a Spandele     Auf dem Wasser schwimmen.     Gār die Welt is auf mir gefallen,     Seit ich bin geblieben allēin,     Sitz' ich doch Tāg un' Nacht     Jāmmerlich un' wēin'.     Teichen Trahren thuen sich     Rinnen vun meine Augen,     Ich soll hāben Fliegelach,     Wollt' ich zu ihm geflōgen.     Lēgt sich, Kinderlach, alle arum mir,     Euer Tate is' vun euch vertrieben.     Klēine Jessomim sent ihr doch     Un' ich bin ein Almone geblieben.      On the mountain stands a dove; she is cooing to her brood: I have      had a good friend, and I cannot get to him.--Brooks of tears flow      out of my eyes; I am left like a piece of wood swimming on the      water.--The whole world has fallen upon me since I am left alone; I      sit day and night and weep bitterly.--Rivers of tears pour forth      from my eyes. If I had wings I should fly to him.--Lie down,      children, all around me! Your father has been taken away from you:      You are now young orphans, and I am left a widow. As sad as the widow's is the lot of the orphan. Fatherless and motherless, he seems to be in everybody's way, and no matter what he does, he is not appreciated by those he comes in contact with. There are many songs of the dying mother who finds her last moments embittered by the thought that her children will suffer privations and oppression from their stepmother and from other unkind people. There are also beggar's songs which tell that the singers were driven to beggary through loss of parents. The following verses, touching in their simplicity, recite the sad plight of an orphan:     Wasser schaumt, Wasser schaumt,     Thut man ganz weit horen,--     Wenn es starbt der Vāter-Mutter,     Giesst der Jossem mit Trahren.     Der Jossem gēht, der Jossem gēht,     Der Jossem thut gār umsust,--     Leut' schatzen, Leut' sāgen,     As der Jossem taug' gār nischt     Der Jossem gēht, der Jossem gēht,     Un' in Zar un' in Pein,--     Leut' schatzen, Leut' sāgen,     As der Jossem is' schicker vun Wein.     Bei meine Freund', bei meine Freund'     Wachst Weiz un' Korner,--     Bei mir Jossem, bei mir Jossem     Wachst doch Grās un' Dorner.     Gottunju, Gottunju,     Gottunju du mein,     Wās hāst du mich nit beschaffen     Mit dem Masel wie meine Freund?      Water foams, water foams, one can hear afar. When father and mother      die the orphan sheds tears.--The orphan goes, the orphan goes, the      orphan does all in vain. People judge, people say that the orphan      is good for nothing.--The orphan goes, the orphan goes, in pain and      in sorrow. People judge, people say that the orphan is drunk with      wine.--With my friends, with my friends there grows wheat and      grain. With me, orphan, with me, orphan, there grow but grass and      thorns.--Dear God, dear God, dear God of mine! Why have you not      created me with the same luck as my friends have? The tender feelings of love, replete with sorrows and despair, are left almost entirely to women; men are too busy to sing of love, or less romantic in their natures. But they are not entirely devoid of the poetic sentiment, and they join the weaker sex in rhythmic utterance, whenever they are stirred to it by unusual incidents that break in on their favorite attitude of contemplation and peaceful occupations. Such are military service, the _pogroms_, or mob violence, and riots periodically instituted against the Jewish population, expatriation, and the awful days of Atonement. On these occasions they rise to all the height of feeling that we have found in the other productions, and the expression of their attachment to their parents, wives, and children is just as tender and pathetic. The Russian Jew is naturally averse to the profession of war. He is not at all a coward, as was demonstrated in the Russo-Turkish War, in which he performed many a deed of bravery; but what can be his interest to fight for a country which hardly recognizes him as a citizen and in which he cannot rise above the lowest ranks in civil offices or in the army, although he is called to shed his blood on an equal footing with his Christian or Tartar fellow-soldier? Before the reign of Nicholas he was regarded beyond the pale of the country's attention and below contempt as a warrior; he was expected to pay toward the support of the country, but was not allowed to be its defender in times of war. He easily acquiesced in this state of affairs, and learned to regard the payment of taxes as a necessary evil and the exemption from enlistment as a privilege. Things all of a sudden changed with the ukase of Emperor Nicholas, by which not only military service was imposed on all the Jews of the realm, but the most atrocious regime was inaugurated to seize the persons who might elude the vigilance of the authorities. A whole regiment of _Chapers_, or catchers, were busy searching out the whereabouts of men of military age, tearing violently men from wives, fathers from infant children, minors from their parents. The terror was still increased by the order of 'cantonment,' by which young children of tender age were stolen from their mothers to be sent into distant provinces to be farmed out to peasants, where it was hoped they would forget their Hebrew origin and would be easily led into the folds of the Greek-Catholic Church.[42] This sad state of affairs is described in a long poem, a kind of a rhymed chronicle of the event; it lies at the foundation of many later lyrical expressions dealing with the aversion to military service, even at a time when it was divested of the horrors of Nicholas' regime. Under the best conditions, the time spent in the service of the Czar might have been more profitably used for the study of the Bible and commentaries to the same, is the conclusion of several of such poems:     Ich gēh' arauf auf'n Gass'     Derlangt man a Geschrēi: "A Pass, a Pass!"     A Pass, a Pass hāb' ich gethān verlieren,     Thut man mir in Prijom areinfuhren.     Fuhrt man mir arein in ersten Cheeder,     Thut man mir aus mein' Mutters Kleider.       Och un' wēh is' mir nischt geschehn,       Wās ich hāb' mir nit arumgesehn!     Fuhrt man mir arein in andern Cheeder,     Thut man mir ān soldatske Klēider.       Och un' wēh is' mir nit geschehn, etc.     Fuhrt man mir arein in Schul' schworen,     Giesst sich vun mir Teichen Trahren.       Och un' wēh is mir nit geschehn, etc.     Ēhder zu trāgen dem Kēissers Hutel,     Besser zu lernen dem Kapitel,       Och un' wēh is' mir nit geschehn, etc.     Ēhder zu essen dem Kēissers Kasche,     Besser zu lernen Chumesch mit Rasche.       Och un' wēh is mir nit geschehn,       Wās ich hāb' mir nit arumgesehn!      I walk in the street,--they cry: "A passport, a passport!" The      passport, the passport I have lost. They take me to the enlisting      office. They lead me into the first room. They take off the clothes      my mother made me. Woe unto me that I have not bethought myself in      time!--They lead me into the second room; they put on me a      soldier's uniform. Woe unto me, etc.--They lead me into the      synagogue to take my oath, and rivers of tears roll down my face.      Woe unto me, etc.--Rather than wear the cap of the Czar--to study a      chapter of religious lore. Woe unto me, etc.--Rather than eat the      Czar's buckwheat mush--to study the Bible with its commentaries.      Woe unto me that I have not bethought myself in time! Other soldier songs begin with a detailed farewell to parents, brothers, sisters, and friends, after which follows a recital of the many privations to which the Jewish soldier will be subjected; in all of these, the forced absence from wife or bride is regarded as the greatest evil. The cup of bitterness has never been empty for the Jews that inhabit the present Russian Empire; they had been persecuted by Poland, massacred by the Cossacks, and are now exiled from the central provinces of Russia. Each massacre, each 'pogrom,' has given rise to several poems, in which God is invoked to save them from their cruel tormentors, or in which there are given graphic descriptions of the atrocities perpetrated on the unwary. Like the soldier songs, they vary in form from the chronicle in rhymes to the metrical lyric of modern times. The oldest recorded rhymed chronicle of this kind is the one that tells of the blood bath instituted in the Ukraine in the middle of last century. The simple, unadorned recital of inhumanities concocted by the fertile imagination of a Gonto, a Silo, a Maxim Zhelezniak, produces a more awful effect than any studied poem could do.[43] It is no wonder, then, that the Jew takes a gloomy view of life, and that whenever he rises to any generalizations, he gives utterance to the blackest pessimism. One such poem depicts the vanities of human life, into which one is born as into a prison, from which one is freed at best at the Biblical age of three score and ten, to leave all the gold and silver to the surviving orphans. There is but one consolation in life, and that is, that _Tōre_, 'learning,' will do one as much good in the other world as it does in this. And yet, under all these distressing circumstances, the Jew finds pleasure in whole-hearted laughter. His comical ditties may be divided into two classes,--those in which he laughs at his own weaknesses, and those in which he ridicules the weaknesses of the Khassidim, the fanatical sect, among whom the Rabbis are worshipped as saints and are supposed to work miracles. This sect is very numerous in Poland and South Russia, is very ignorant, and has opposed progress longer than the Misnagdim, to which sect the other German Jews in Russia belong. As an example of the first class may serve a poem in which poverty is made light of:     Ferd' hāb' ich vun Paris:     Drei ohn' Kopp', zwēi ohn' Fuss'.       Ladrizem bam, ladrizem bam.     A Rock hāb' ich vun guten Tuch,     Ich hāb' vun ihm kein Brockel Duch.       Ladrizem, etc.     Stiewel hāb' ich vun guten Leder,     Ich hāb' vun see kein Brockel Feder.       Ladrizem, etc.     Kinder hāb' ich a drei Tuz',     Ich hāb' vun see kein Brockel Nutz.       Ladrizem, etc.     Jetzt hāb' ich sich arumgetracht     Un' hāb' vun see a Barg Asch' gemacht.       Ladrizem bam, ladrizem bam.      Horses I have from Paris, three without heads, and two without      feet,--ladrizem bam, etc.--A coat I have of good cloth,--I have not      a trace left of it.--Boots I have of good leather, not a feather's      weight have I left of them.--Children I have some three dozen,--I      get no good out of them.--So I fell a-thinking and made a heap of      ashes of them. The sensuality, intemperance, and profound ignorance and superstition of the _Rebe_, or Rabbi, of the Khassidim, and the credulity and lightheartedness of his followers, form, perhaps, the subject of the most poems in the Judeo-German language, as they also form the main subject of attack in the written literature of the last forty years. V. PRINTED POPULAR POETRY The author of a recent work on the history of culture among the Galician Jews[44] has pointed out how at the end of the last century the Mendelssohnian Reform, and with it worldly education, took its course through Austria into Galicia, to appear half a century later in Russia. This quicker awakening in the South was not due to geographical position alone, but in a higher degree to political and social causes as well. The language of enlightenment was at first naturally enough a modernized form of the Hebrew, for the literary German was not easily accessible to the Jews of Galicia in the period immediately following the division of Poland. Besides, although books had been printed in Judeo-German for the use of women and 'less knowing' men, the people with higher culture, to whom alone the Mendelssohnian Reform could appeal, looked with disdain on the profane dialect of daily intercourse. When, however, the time had come to carry the new instruction to the masses, the latter had become sufficiently familiar with the German language to be able to dispense with the intermediary native Jargon.[45] Consequently little opportunity was offered here for the development of a dialect literature. While the Jews of the newly acquired provinces were becoming more and more identified with their coreligionists of German Austria, their Russian and Polish brethren in the Russian Empire were by force of circumstances departing gradually from all but the religious union with them, and were drifting into entirely new channels. Previous to the reign of Nicholas I., their civil disabilities barred them from a closer contact in language and feeling with their Gentile fellow-citizens, while their distance from Germany excluded all intellectual relations with that country. The masses were too downtrodden and ignorant to develop out of themselves any other forms of literature than the one of ethical instruction and stories current in the previous century. In the meanwhile the Haskala, as the German school was called, had found its way into Russia through Galicia, and such men as J. B. Levinsohn, A. B. Gottlober, M. Gordon, Dr. S. Ettinger, had become its warmest advocates. They threw themselves with all the ardor of their natures upon the new doctrine, and tried to correct the neglected education of their childhood by a thorough study of German culture. It was but natural for them to pass by the opportunities offered in their country's language and to seek enlightenment abroad: the Jews were a foreign nation at home, without privileges or duties, except those of paying taxes, while from Germany, their former abiding-place, there shone forth the promise of a salvation from obscurantism and spiritual death. Henceforth the word 'German' became in Russia the synonym of 'civilized,' and a 'German' was tantamount to 'reformed' and 'apostate' with the masses, for to them culture could appear only as the opposite of their narrow Ghetto lives and gross superstition. The inauguration of the military regime by Nicholas was in reality only meant as a first step in giving civil rights to the Jews of his realm; this reform was later followed by the establishment of Rabbinical schools at Wilna and Zhitomir, and the permission to enter the Gymnasia and other institutions of learning. The Jews were, however, slow in taking advantage of their new rights, as they had become accustomed to look with contempt and fear on Gentile culture, and as they looked with suspicion on the Danaid gifts of the government. The enlightened minority of the Haskala, anxious to lead their brethren out of their crass ignorance and stubborn opposition to the cultural efforts of the Czar, began to address them in the native dialects of their immediate surroundings and to elicit their attention almost against their will. Knowing the weakness of the Jews for tunable songs, they began to supply them with such in the popular vein, now composing one with the mere intention to amuse, now to direct them to some new truth.[46] These poems, like the dramas and prose writings by this school of writers previous to the sixties, were not written down, but passed orally or in manuscript form from town to town, from one end of Russia to the other, often changing their verses and forming the basis for new popular creations. The poet's name generally became dissociated from each particular poem; nay, in the lapse of time the authors themselves found it difficult to identify their spiritual children. An amusing incident occurred some time ago when the venerable and highly reputed poet, J. L. Gordon, had incorporated a parody of Heine's 'Two Grenadiers' among his collection of popular poems, for a plain case was made out against him by the real parodist. Gordon at once publicly apologized for his unwitting theft by explaining how he had found it in manuscript among his papers and had naturally assumed it to be his own production.[47] Another similar mistake was made by Gottlober's daughter, who named to me a dozen of current songs which she said belonged to her father, having received that information from himself, but which on close examination were all but one easily proven as belonging to other poets.[48] Most difficult of identification are now Gottlober's poems,[49] he having never brought out himself a collective volume of his verses, although he certainly must have written a great number of them as early as the thirties when he published his comedy 'Dās Decktuch.' Those that have been printed later in the periodicals are either translations or remodellings of well-known poems in German, Russian, and Hebrew; but even they have promptly been caught by the popular ear. The one beginning 'Ich lach' sich vun euere Traten aus,' in which are depicted humorously the joys of the Jewish recluse, has been pointed out by Katzenellenbogen as a remodelling of a poem that appeared in a Vienna periodical;[50] the sources of some of the others he mentions himself, while the introductory poem in his comedy is a translation of Schiller's 'Der Jungling am Bache.' From these facts it is probably fair to assume that most, if not all, of his other poems are borrowings from other literatures, preeminently German. This is also true of his other productions, which will be mentioned in another place. Nevertheless he deserves an honorable place among the popular poets, as his verses are written in a pure dialect of the Southern variety,--he is a native of Constantin in the Government of Volhynia,--and as they have been very widely disseminated. No one has exercised a greater influence on the succeeding generation of bards than the Galician Wolf Ehrenkranz, better known as Welwel Zbarżer, _i.e._ from Zbaraż, who half a century ago delighted small audiences in Southern Russia with his large repertoire. There are still current stories among those who used to know him then, of how they would entice him to their houses and treat him to wine and more wine, of which he was inordinately fond, how when his tongue was unloosened he would pour forth improvised songs in endless succession, while some of his hearers would write them down for Ehrenkranz's filing and finishing when he returned to his sober moods. These he published later in five volumes, beginning in the year 1865 and ending in 1878. While there had previously appeared poems in Judeo-German in Russia, he did not dare to publish them in Galicia except with a Hebrew translation, and this method was even later, in the eighties, adopted by his countrymen Apotheker and Schafir. Ehrenkranz has employed every variety of folksong known to Judeo-German literature except historical and allegorical subjects. Prominent among them are the songs of reflection. Such, for example, is 'The Nightingale,' in which the bird complains of the cruelty of men who expect him to sing sweetly to them while they enslave him in a cage, but the nightingale is the poet who in spite of his aspiration to fly heavenwards must sing to the crowd's taste, in order to earn a living. In a similar way 'The Russian Tea-machine,' 'The Mirror,' 'The Theatre,' and many others serve him only as excuses to meditate on the vanity of life, the inconstancy of fortune, and so forth. 'The Gold Watch' is one of a very common type of songs of dispute that have been known to various literatures in previous times and that are used up to the present by Jewish bards. They range in length from the short folksong consisting of but one question and answer to a long series of stanzas, or they may become the subject of long discussions covering whole books. In 'The Gold Watch' the author accuses the watch of being unjust in complaining and in allowing its heart to beat so incessantly, since it enjoys the privilege of being worn by fine ladies and gentlemen, of never growing old, of being clad in gold and precious stones. Each stanza of the question ends with the words:     Wās fehlt dir, wās klapt dir dās Herz? The watch's answer is that it must incessantly work, that it is everybody's slave, that it is thrown away as useless as soon as it stops. So, too, is man. Upon this follows what is generally known as a _Zuspiel_, a byplay, a song treating the contrary of the previous matter or serving as a conclusion to the same. The _Zuspiel_ to 'The Gold Watch' is entitled ''Tis Best to Live without Worrying.' There is a series of songs in his collection which might be respectively entitled 'Memento mori' and 'Memento vivere.' Such are 'The Tombstone' and 'The Contented,' 'The Tombstone-cutter' and 'The Precentor,' 'The Cemetery,' and 'While you Live, you Must not Think of Death.' The cemetery, the gravedigger, the funeral, are themes which have a special fascination for the Jewish popular singers, who nearly all of them have written songs of the same character. Another kind of popular poetry is that which deals with some important event, such as 'The Cholera in the Year 1866,' or noteworthy occurrence, as 'The Leipsic Fair,' which, however, like the previously mentioned poems, serves only as a background for reflections. There are also, oddly enough, a few verses of a purely lyrical nature in which praises are sung to love and the beloved object. These would be entirely out of place in a Jewish songbook of the middle of this century had they been meant solely as lyrical utterances; but they are used by Ehrenkranz only as precedents for his 'Zuspiele,' in which he makes a Khassid contrast the un-Jewish love of the reformed Jew with his own blind adoration of his miracle-working Rabbi. These latter, and the large number of Khassid songs scattered through the five volumes, form a class for themselves. The lightheartedness, ignorance, superstitions, and intemperance of these fanatics form the butt of ridicule of all who have written in Judeo-German in the last fifty years, but no one has so masterfully handled the subject as Ehrenkranz, for he has treated it so deftly by putting the songs in the mouth of a Khassid that half the time one is not quite sure but that he is in earnest and the poems are meant as glorifications of Khassidic blissfulness. It is only when one reads the fine humor displayed in 'The Rabbi on the Ocean' that one is inclined to believe that the extravagant miracles performed by the Rabbi were ascribed to him in jest only. Owing to this quality of light raillery, the songs have delighted not only the scoffers, but it is not at all unusual to hear them recited by Khassidim themselves. Ehrenkranz also has some songs in which are described the sorrows of various occupations,--a kind of poetry more specially cultivated by Berel Broder. Of the latter little is known except that he composed his songs probably at a time anterior to those just mentioned, that he had lived at Brody, hence his name, and that he had never published them. They were collected by some one after his death and published several times; however, it is likely that several of them are of other authorship, as is certainly the case with 'The Wanderer,' which belongs to Ehrenkranz. As has been said above, he prefers to dwell on the many troubles that beset the various occupations of his countrymen, of the shepherd, the gravedigger, the wagon-driver, the school teacher, the go-between, the usurer, the precentor, the smuggler. They are all arranged according to the same scheme, and begin with such lines as: 'I, poor shepherd,' 'I, lame beadle,' 'I, miserable driver,' 'I, wretched school teacher,' and so forth. The best of these, and one of the most popular of the kind, is probably the 'Song of the Gravedigger.' Of the two songs of dispute, 'Day and Night' and 'Shoemaker and Tailor,' the first is remarkable in that each praises the other, instead of the more common discussions in which the contending parties try to outrival one another in the display of their virtues. The style of these two Galicians and their very subject-matter were soon appropriated by a very large class of folksingers in Russia who amuse guests at wedding feasts. Before passing over to the writers in Russia we shall mention the two other Galicians who, writing at a later time, have remained unknown beyond their own country, but one of whom at least deserves to be known to a larger circle of readers. The one, David Apotheker, in his collection 'Die Leier,' pursues just such aims as his Polish or Russian fellow-bards and is entirely without any local coloring. The poems are written in a pure dialect, without any admixture of German words, but their poetic value is small, as they are much too didactic. Of far higher importance and literary worth are the productions of his contemporary, Bajrach Benedikt Schafir. Being well versed in German and Polish literature, he generally imitates the form of the best poems in those languages and often paraphrases them for his humble audiences. His language is now almost the literary German, now his native dialect, according as he sings of high matters or in the lighter vein. In the introduction to one of his earlier pamphlets written in a pure German, he says that in Germanizing his native dialect it has been his purpose so to purify the Jargon that it should become intelligible even to German Jews. The most of his songs were collected in 'Melodies from the Country near the River San.' These he divided into four parts: Jewish national songs, songs of commemoration, songs of feeling, and comical songs,--the first three, with an elegy on the death of Moses Montefiore, forming the first part, the comical songs the second part, of the collection. The most of the comical songs are in the form of dialogues in which a German, _i.e._ a Jew of the reformed church, discusses with a Khassid the advantage of education; in others he describes the ignorance of the latter. Many of them do not rise above the character of theatre couplets, but in the lyrical part the tone is better, and in some of his songs he rivals the best folksingers of Russia. His 'Midnight Prayer' and 'Greeting to Zion' are touching expressions of longing for the ancient home, just as 'Przemysl, You my Dear Cradle,' and 'Homesickness,' are full of yearning for his native country. Of the four songs of commemoration, two deal on the famous accusation, in 1883, of the use of Gentile blood by the Jews in the Passover ceremony, one describes the fire in the Vienna Ring theatre, while another narrates a similar catastrophe in the town of Sheniava. As early as 1863[51] there was printed in Kiev a volume of songs under the name of 'The Evil-tongued Wedding-jester,' by Izchak Joel Linetzki. Before me lies a somewhat later edition of the book: it is published in a form of rare attractiveness for those days and bears on the title-page a picture of two men, one in European dress, the other in the garments of a Khassid, in the attitude of discussion. This illustration has appeared on all the subsequent editions of the same work; it expresses the author's purpose, which becomes even more patent in his prose works, to instruct the Khassidim in the advantages of culture, however, the few poems in the book devoted to this differ from the usual unconditional praise of reform, in that they point out that the servile imitator of the Gentiles is no better than the stubborn advocate of the old regime. Two of the poems are versified versions of the Psalms, and there are also the usual songs of reflection, and a song of dispute between the mirror and the clock. Two of the poems sing of the joys of May, presenting the rare example of pure lyrics at that early time. These alone will hold a comparison with the best of Ehrenkranz's songs; the others are somewhat weak in diction and loose in execution. Few poets have been so popular in Russia as Michel Gordon and S. Berenstein were in the past generation, the first singing in the Lithuanian variety of the language, the second in a southern dialect. Both published their collections in Zhitomir in 1869, and Gordon wrote an introductory poem for the book of his friend Berenstein. In this he indicates the marked contrast that exists in the productions of the two. While the first writes to chide superstition and ignorance, the other sings out of pity for his suffering race; while the one sounds the battle-cry of progress, the other consoles his brothers in their misery; the one, fearing prosecution from the fanatic Khassidim whom he attacks, sent his poems out into the world anonymously, the other signed his name to them. And yet, however unlike in form and content, they were both pervaded by a warm love for their people whom they were trying to succor, each one in his own way. Gordon's[52] poems are of a militant order:[53] he is not satisfied with indicating the right road to culture, he also sounds the battle-cry of advance. The keynote is struck in his famous 'Arise, my People!' 'Arise, my people, you have slept long enough! Arise, and open your eyes! Why has such a misfortune befallen you alone, that you are asleep until the midday hour? The sun has now long been out upon the world; he has put all men upon their feet, but you alone lie crouching and bent and keep your eyes tightly closed.' In this poem he preaches to his race that they should assimilate themselves in manners and culture to the ruling people, that they should abandon their old-fashioned garments and distinguishing characteristics of long beard and forelock, and that they should exchange even the language in which he sings to them for the literary language of the country. Assimilation was the cry of all the earnest men among the Russian Jews before the eighties, when the course of events put a damper on the sanguine expectations from such a procedure. Many of his other poems are of a humorous nature and have been enormously popular. In 'The Beard,' a woman laments the loss of that hirsute appendage of her husband, who, by shaving it off, had come to look like a despised 'German.' 'The Turnip Soup' and 'I Cannot Understand' are excellent pictures of the ignorance and superstitious awe of the Khassidim before their equally ignorant and hypocritical Rabbis; other poems deal with the stupidity of the teachers of children, and the undue use of spirituous drinks on all occasions of life. Two of his earliest poems are devoted to decrying the evil custom of early marriages, in which the tastes of the contracting parties are not at all considered. In the one entitled 'From the Marriage Baldachin,' he paints in vivid colors the course of the married life of a Jew from the wedding feast through the worries of an ever-increasing family, and the helplessness of the father to provide for his children, with the consequent breaking up of the family ties. The catching tune to which the poem is sung, and all folksongs are naturally set to music, generally by the authors themselves, and the lifelike picture which it portrays, have done a great deal to diminish the practice; while the other, 'My Advice,' addressed to a girl, advising her to exercise her own free will and reasonable choice of her life's companion, has helped to eliminate misery and to introduce the element of love in the marital stage. In his advocacy of reform, Gordon had in mind the clearing of the Jewish religion from the accumulated superstitions of the ages which had almost stifled its virgin simplicity, not an abandonment of any of its fundamental principles in the ardent desire for assimilation. True culture is, according to him, compatible with true piety, and a surface culture, with its accompanying slackness of religious life, is reprehensible. When he saw that so many had misunderstood the precepts of those who taught a closer union with the Gentiles in that they adopted the mere appearances of the foreign civilization and overthrew the essential virtues of their own faith, he expressed his indignation in 'The True Education and the False Education,' of which the final stanza is:     True culture makes good and mild,     False culture makes bad and wild.     The truly-cultured is a fine man,     The falsely-cultured is a charlatan. Gordon has also written a ballad, 'The Stepmother,' which has given rise to a large number of popular imitations. In this he tells of a mother whose rest in the grave is disturbed by the tears of her child. Upon learning that the child has been maltreated by his stepmother, she sends up her voice to God, interceding in her son's behalf, and then addresses herself to her weeping child, assuring him that God has heard her prayer. Berenstein was no less cultured a man than Gordon. His acquaintance with German literature is evidenced by his motto from Korner, an occasional quotation from Schiller, and his several epigrams which he frankly acknowledges as translations or adaptations of German originals. Thus it happens that Schiller's 'Hoffnung' has been popularized among the Russian Jews in the form of a stanza of a long poem, 'The False Hope.' Except for these literary allusions, Berenstein wrote in the true popular vein. His 'The Cradle,' in which he makes use of the well-known verses, 'Hinter Jankeles Wiegele,' has become as universal as the oral cradle song. Its last stanza enjoins the child to sleep well in order to gather strength for the sufferings of the next day, and this pessimistic view of life becomes ever after the prevailing tone in the many cradle songs that have been written by younger men.[54] 'The Sleep' is a variation on the motto from Korner's 'Tony,' which is put at the head of it: 'Der Schlummer ist ja ein Friedenhauch vom Himmel--Schlummern kann nur ein spiegelreines Herz.' 'Young Tears' is one of the very few love lyrics that appeared in print before the second half of the eighties. In 'The Bar of Soap' Gordon shows that with soap one cannot wash off the blot from his brow, the sorrow from his heart. 'The Empty Bottle' describes the loneliness of him who has lost his wealth, and with it his friends. As a 'byplay' to it follows a pretty lyric, 'Consolation.' A 'byplay' bearing the same name follows an elegy upon the death of an only son. Several of the poems are devoted to the praise of the Sabbath, and only two are given to sarcastic attacks on the Khassidim. In the latter, the words are put in the mouth of a Khassid, who prays to God that he may send again darkness instead of the victorious light in order that his kind may the more securely shear their sheep. Another very popular poet of the sixties was Abraham Goldfaden,[55] who, in 1876, became the founder of the Jewish theatre. His literary activity may be roughly divided into the period before, and the period after, the establishment of the theatre. The first only is the subject of our present discussion. Like the other two, he published his works in Zhitomir, which, on account of the Rabbinical school opened there in the forties, had come to be the rallying ground of all those who were advocating a progressive Judaism. As the title of his first collection, 'The Jew,' indicates, his poems are all devoted to strictly Jewish matters. Although he occasionally has recourse to the method of Ehrenkranz, or, foreshadowing his future career, even descends to the use of theatre couplets, yet the most of his poems have an individual character, differing from all of his predecessors. He treats with great success, and in a large variety of rhymes, the allegorical and the historical song, sometimes as separate themes, more often by combining them. One of the best allegorical poems is the triad, 'The Aristocratic Marriage.' In the first part, 'The Betrothal,' he tells us how the humble Egyptian slave, Israel, was betrothed to his aristocratic bride on Mount Sinai. God was the father who gave away the Law to his son, and Moses was the _Schadchen_, the go-between, the never-failing concomitant of a Jewish marriage. The second part describes a typical Jewish wedding--Israel's entrance into Jerusalem; while the third shows how Israel has misused his opportunity while living in the house of his wife's father during the years that immediately follow the marriage. He committed adultery with idolatry, and God drove him out of his home, but out of regard for his pious ancestry He allowed him to take his wife along with him on his wanderings, and promised him that after ages of repentance He would send him the Messiah to restore him to his former home. A similar triad, but of a historical nature, is his well-known 'That Little Trace of a Jew,' in which he successively portrays the virtues, the sufferings, and the vices of his race. The last part is identical in sentiment with Gordon's 'Arise, my People,' and inculcates tolerance for the various religious parties of the Jews and love of worldly learning. 'The Firebrand' relates the destruction of the Temple; 'Rebecca's Death' gives a Talmudical version of the event; and 'Cain' tells of his wanderings over the face of the earth after his killing of his brother, and his vain search of death. The latter is the most popular of his Biblical songs. Among the other poems, many of which are of sterling worth, there must be mentioned his lullaby, whose widespread dissemination is only second to Berenstein's cradle song. The poems which Goldfaden has written during his lifetime would fill several large volumes; they can be found scattered through various periodicals which have appeared in the last thirty years, and in the greater part of the dramas which he has composed for the stage which he has created. Most of these are mere street ballads, but there are some of a serious nature; of these mention will be made in the chapter on the theatre. To the best productions of his first, the most original period of his poetical activity, belong the poems touching women, contained in the volume entitled 'The Jewess.' From the contents we learn that one of them is a translation from Beranger, the other from the Russian. It is also characteristic of the history of Jewish folk-music that one of the songs, as we are informed in the same place, is to be sung to the tune of a well-known Russian lullaby, the other with a Little-Russian melody, while for a third, is mentioned one of M. Gordon's songs.