STEMPENIU: A JEWISH ROMANCE
- SHOLOM ALEICHEM
STEMPENIU HAS A TRUE TASTE OF HELL
But one person could not forget beautiful Rachel.
The reader can guess that we are talking about Stempeniu.
Yes indeed, Stempeniu. Who can possibly depict his great sorrows? Who
can feel his heart and grasp his great chagrin?
"How awful!" thought Stempeniu. "How miserable!" thought Stempeniu.
"She didn't even remember me, she didn't even say a word, she didn't dash
off two lines to me, for politeness' sake: 'So long, I'm leaving!' Dammit,
it's awful."
Never had anything like this happened to Stempeniu, although any number
and all kinds of things had indeed happened to him, and once - some pretty
awful things that ended pretty badly, as we mentioned earlier. Yet he would
never have dreamt of such a setback, such a rebuff as he'd gotten from
Rachel. Stempeniu, who was so respected in the rabbi's court that even
the rabbi's daughters joked around with him, Stempeniu, who was so doted
upon by Countess Brerzerzko and all the Polish noblemen that they sent
out their carriages for him and spoke French to him - Stempeniu should
get a rebuke, and such an awful one at that, from a simple Jewish woman!?
"I really miss her!" Stempeniu admitted to his band "I really, and
truly miss her and I'd go after her in Yehupets, if it weren't for . .
. if it weren't for . . . ." Stempeniu looked around on all sides, and
the musicians knew whom he was looking for.
The musicians all loved Stempeniu, they simply adored him, they would
have gone through hell and high water for him. And as much as they loved
Stempeniu, they despised Freydel. They couldn't stand her greed, her stinginess,
her foul temper.
"Before he got hitched up," the musicians said to one another, "he
didn't give a shit about money, you could get a ruble from him, or even
three, or four, and never have to pay him back. But ever since that filthy
bitch got her claws into him, he's never got a kopek of his own, no matter
what he does. Remember those great dinners we used to have with him and
the trips we used to go on! Now, everything's lousy, we ain't got nothin',
our bellies swell up like mountains, and we starve our guts out. Not a
crust of bread all year long, and all we do is sit around lookin' forward
to the weddin' season. You'd think that just for politeness' sake she'd
offer a guy a cup of tea occasionally, and maybe even have us over for
a meal - may she rot in hell, the bitch!"
"Believe you me, there are times when I feel I'm about to croak from
hunger, but I wouldn't eat a crumb of that bitch's bread for any amount
of gold in the world!"
"How can he live with her, that snake, that pig?! I would've fed her
poison a long time ago or strung her up, I swear on my mother's grave!"
"Oh, Stempeniu, you're up shit's creek and you've been sold down the
river!"
That's the way his band spoke about him, they knew all about his problems,
they felt his sorrows, even though he never spoke about them to the other
musicians.
If Freydel was in the market or busy with her wares and clients, then
things were fine: Stempeniu treated the band to cigarettes, they sat around,
they kidded around, they exchanged stories about the past, and they rolled
cigarettes like there was no tomorrow. But then, in flounced Freydel, everyone
was turned off, and they started leaving one by one.
"For God's sake, it's as smoky as a tavern here!" said Freydel, snorting
and peering at the packet of tobacco, which was running low. "Smoking like
chimneys, it's disgusting! My head's already aching from the fumes! You'll
be the death of me! You think there's something virtuous about smoking
so much, Stempeniu? Listen to me, Stempeniu darling, stop smoking. Believe
me, it'll ruin your health!"
"You don't give a shit about my health, Freydel! Just admit that your
heart bleeds for the money I spend on cigarettes! Why put on an act?"
"How can you say such a thing! Who's putting on an act? I only care
about his health and he says I'm putting on an act! What a morning! I've
haggled my lungs out, I've bargained and dickered, I've eaten my heart
out, I didn't take in a kopek, and I've been cursed out like a maid, like
a maid, I've been humiliated, I've been trampled on like a piece of dirt
and my corals just lie there and rot! . . ."
"I'd really like to know, Freydel my dear, why you hustle so much and
why you're such a tightwad! Do you have a mob of starvin' kids to feed?"
"Get a load of him, the poor shmuck! You should cut your tongue out,
that's what you should do! Maybe I carry everything off to my mama, huh,
Stempeniu? Or maybe I eat it up myself, I'm such a glutton, right, such
a drunkard, right the whole world oughta watch out for me - huh, Stempeniu?
C'mon, look me in the eye, Stempeniu! Huh?"
"Did I say you ate anything up? It's the other way around, I'm only
sayin'- "
"You're saying, you're saying - how should I know what you're saying,
huh, Stempeniu? You should curse God for saddling you with a spendthrift
like me, a spendthrift who turns one kopek into two and thinks about you
day and night. C'mon, just tell me, what are you lacking, what don't you
have? Cat got your tongue? Why, I'd love to know: What would've become
of you and your fiddle if it weren't for me, Stempeniu, if you didn't have
me for a wife?"
"Oh for God's sake!"
"Oh for God's sake!? You've already forgotten the way you looked at
the wedding - not a shirt to your name, not a single sock without a hole
in it, no pillow, no pillowcase, nothing and less than nothing, and you
were earning chunks of gold - where did it all go to?"
"Am I supposed to tell what I did with my earnings when I was a bachelor?"
"Ah, that's the trouble with you, Stempeniu, that's your problem! You
can't stand hearing the truth about yourself, and you complain if a woman
works her fingers to the bone for you, drudges, labors, goes through agony,
doesn't even allow herself a crust of bread, and leads a horrible life,
and all for whose sake? For him! All for his sake, and do you know for
what good deeds? He's sure to put up a golden tombstone for me - oh God
in heaven, oh God, oh God!"
"What'd I do to you? Who's doing anything to you?"
"What should you do to me? You've done enough to me already! You robbed
me of the best years of my life! You took a young child, an innocent girl,
you pulled all that sweet talk on me, you promised me golden mountains,
oh, what cock-and-bull stories you told me, you liar! If only I'd never
met you! I'd have a man worthy of me and I'd never have become Stempeniu's
wife - what luck, what marvelous luck I've had!!"
"Well, are you sorry we got hitched, Freydel? There's a rabbi in Mazepevke
and a river, which means we can get divorced-"
"What? Is that what you're after? So the cat's out of the bag! You
think I don't know that that's what you want? You wanna get rid of me!
I know, Stempeniu, I know, you can't pull the wool over my eyes! I'm in
your way! What did I ever do to deserve this, Stempeniu? I ask you, for
God's sake, tell me what did I do to deserve this? I wanna know too!"
"Oh," replied Stempeniu, waving his hand, he went to his room. and
took the violin down from the wall.
The violin - that was his comfort, his only friend in the world. With
the violin, he could forget his troubles, remember his youth, his freedom,
which he had lost forever, forever! So many different people were evoked
by the singing of his violin; so many lovely, happy, radiant, images of
the past came to him when he began to play; they appeared - and vanished!...
Among all the past images, one image touched him more than any other,
an image he could not forget: the dear and lovely image of Rachel, her
bright face, her blue eyes, her long lashes, her white throat, and her
sweet, good smile, for which he would have given anything, anything in
the world!
Stempeniu played and played; he played on and on, so that Rachel's
ghost would not disappear as always. He only wanted to see her ghost. Even
thinking about her was so dear to him, so dear.
Stempeniu played as he had never played before. One can say that in
his playing he reached the highest possible level. Anyone who didn't hear
him play at that time did not hear anything good.
That's the kind of joy we feel when a bird sings in its cage: The bird
is dreaming of green leaves, gorgeous blossoms, open air, a free world,
an open world, a great, wide world, and it feels like singing to pour out
its bitter heart - and it sings, it weeps, it pours out everything it feels!
And we feel joy and delight, we have true pleasure.
"I really miss her so much!" Stempeniu said for the hundredth time
to his band. "I miss her like she was my flesh and blood, and I'd go after
her in Yehupets if it weren't for...."
And Stempeniu looked around on all sides and saw Freydel dickering
with a customer over corals, silk cloths, woolen yarn.
Our Freydel had gradually rigged up a whole shop in her house and had
become a genuine businesswoman, on a par with all the other storekeepers
in Mazepevke.
Very frequently, she was visited by her mother, Fat Zipporah. Her mother
said Shaike missed his daughter very much and had sent his wife to see
how Freydel was. But Freydel knew she was lying, there wasn't a crust of
bread in her parents' home and her mother had come here to put an end to
her fast, to get a bit out of life, to make her stomach stop growling.
"You know what, daughter? Why don't you make those butter rolls, you
know, the kind I used to make, pleated and nicely dried out. They're so
healthy with a cup of chicory, and with a nice load of butter they're absolute
heaven. And for breakfast, fry some goose cracklings with an onion. Papa's
always loved that, if you remember that far back. Food is the best medicine."
And Zipporah licked her lips and thought up a new breakfast every day,
a new lunch and a new snack and a new dinner - and it can't be said that
Freydel was very happy about it. The first week, she more or less put up
with it, but the second week, she began getting huffy with her mother,
and her mother got huffy with her, until they had an awful fight and they
let out all their anger on Stempeniu when he tried to butt in and make
peace between his wife and his mother-in-law.
"Mind your own business!" shouted Freydel. "And don't worry, I won't
give my mama your legacy. Don't worry, Stempeniu!"
"A fine son-in-law!" said Zipporah with a jab of her tongue. "An ox
has a long tongue, but it can't blow a shofar! Decent people treat a mother-in-law
like a mother. He can see how my darling daughter treats me! How does the
saying go: 'Blow your nose and smear your face' - and he won't even wiggle
his tongue! Some man you are, you fiddle-strummer! I just don't understand
why he doesn't get fed up with it, Lord in heaven! And what my daughter
has to boast about I'll never know. If you're lucky, then even a bull will
have a calf. I've seen creatures like you, I have! Your father-in-law was
once a fine fiddler like you, Stempeniu, but he turned out to be a big
nothing. What's that old saying? 'A new broom sweeps clean.' You can't
get angry at me, Stempeniu, I'm just telling you the plain truth; and even
though every dog's the master in his own kennel, I'm not exactly an outsider,
you know, I'm your mother-in-law, after all, and if you're going to dine
with the devil then you'd better use a long spoon...."
And Zipporah unleashed her tongue and talked a blue streak, as was
her custom when she let go. But Stempeniu didn't hear her out. He picked
up his violin as he always did when he was in a bad mood - and he forgot
all about his wife and his mother-in-law and all his problems. And he only
saw Rachel with her blue eyes....
"I miss her, I really and truly miss her!" Stempeniu brooded and tried
to think of some way of going to her, of seeing her again, somehow, somewhere....
Idle thoughts! He didn't realize that he would soon be done with his
song, that his days were almost gone, he didn't see that his black curls
would keep thinning out, that his fiery eyes were gradually losing their
glow, that creases were emerging on his white forehead.
Foolish strong man! Don't forget yourself. Can't you see your Delilah,
your wife Freydel, at your side? Your Delilah has rocked you, has lulled
you in her lap, softly shorn away your long hair and taken away your strength,
all your strength, as the other Delilah did to Samson.... You've got one
comfort left in the world - your violin.
Play, Stempeniu, play your violin! Play, and we will listen...
 
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