Sholem Aleichem - The Letters of Menakhem-Mendl and Sheyne-Sheyndl and Motl, the Cantor's Son

Firstly, rest assured that I am, thank God, in the best of health. God grant that we hear from each other only good and pleasing news, amen.

Secondly, I have left Odessa for Yehupetz (a fine town, I declare) and am no longer dealing in perishables — that is, in Londons. I am at present, praise God, a bonified investor in stocks & bonds. But what brought me, you may ask, to Yehupetz? That, my dear wife, is a long story that I’ll tell you once I ask your forgiveness for not writing. I simply had no news. And besides, I kept thinking I would soon be on my way home. But although God knows I hankered to be there, it seems I was fated for Yehupetz. I swear, my dearest, I was already in the coach for Kasrilevke when who sits next to me but a Yehupetz-bound Odessa investor. What takes him to Yehupetz, I ask. Stocks & bonds, he says. What kind of line is that, I ask. Well, he says, it’s nothing like Londons. With Londons you’re at the mercy of Berlin and Bismarck and the Queen of England. In stocks & bonds it’s Warsaw and Petersburg. And not only that, Londons are as airy as a dream, while stocks & bonds are solid items.

You should have heard that Jew praise Yehupetz and its investors to the skies! Why, they’re straight as an arrow, he says; they’re the very soul of honor; he wouldn’t swap one of them for ten Odessa slickers. The fellow made me so curious that I thought, seeing as I’m passing through Fastov, why not detour to Yehupetz and see the market? And wouldn’t you know, the day I arrived it had sunk to such depths that stocks were going for a song with nary a kopeck up front. I decided to give it a try. What was there to lose? If the breaks went my way, I might earn some pocket money for the rest of my trip. And don’t think I didn’t! The market rose, I sold at a nice profit, reinvested my earnings, backed some more winners, and wound up with several hundred rubles in cash. At which point I thought: why pay someone a commission to sell me shares when I can be that someone myself? So off I went to an office in Petersburg and put together a portfoliage of every stock you can think of: Putivil, and Transport, and Volga, and Maltzev, and still more that’s bound to go up. Praise God, I’m growing all the time. But since I’m in a hurry, I’ll be brief. God willing, I’ll write more in my next letter. Meanwhile, may He grant you health and success. My fondest greetings to the children and your parents,

Your husband,

Menakhem-Mendl

P.S. If you write, do it care of Boiberik, since Jews can’t stay nights in Yehupetz. I spend my days in the Kreshchatik Square market and come back to Boiberik every evening. All the investors live there in dachas and sit around playing cards. (Men and women together — that’s the custom.) The next morning they head for Yehupetz and so do I.

Yours, etc.

To my dear, learned, & illustrious husband Menakhem-Mendl, may your light shine!

First, we’re all well, thank God. I hope to hear no worse from you.

Second, my dear husband, my enemies should have as much strength to go on living as I have to write you this short note. I can hardly get around on my legs and may need an operation. At least that’s what the new doctor says. He should catch all ten of Pharaoh’s plagues! The man thinks he’ll get rich from me. Would you like to know what the trouble is? My blood has bad corpsicles from all the heartache you’ve given me. Who ever heard of such a thing? I send you money to come home to Kasrilevke and you run off with it to Yehupetz! A good-for-nothing like you deserves to be buried alive. You’ve blown your nose all over your face, that’s what my mother would say…. A bonified business! Stockings & bands! And here I was thinking that, after his lordship’s precious Lumdums had gone down the drain, he would give me the pleasure of coming home less dead than alive. But what does my angel of a breadwinner do? He dreams a new dream: Yehupetz. May a black desert swallow it! A Jew like you, selling stockings in the market square! You know what you can do with a business like that! I read your letter, dear husband, and I thought: God in heaven! Either you’ve gone clear out of your mind or else I have. You’re speaking Chinese. Petersburg …Pottyboils …portfolderols …a haunt might be talking from your throat. By day it’s Yehupetz and by night it’s Boiberik, men and women together! What’s going on there? Who do you think you are? Make up your mind! If you don’t want me any more, come home to the rabbi and get a divorce, because if I’m going to be an abandoned wife with a house full of brats, I’d rather you vanished from the face of the earth in America like Yosl Leib-Arons and I never had to hear from you again. My enemies should be as sick as I am! It’s my rotten luck that I’m laid up with my aches and pains and can’t come after you, because I’d take the first coach from Kasrilevke and drag you home by the scruff of your neck. It’s as my mother says, though: if you don’t have a hand, don’t expect to give anyone the finger…. But don’t hold my harsh words against me. It’s just my bad corpsicles. I’ll get over them. A match, says my mother, flares up fast and goes out quickly. I am, from the bottom of my heart,

Your truly faithful wife,

Sheyne-Sheyndl

To my dear, esteemed, & virtuous wife Sheyne-Sheyndl, may you have a long life!

Firstly, rest assured that I am, praise God, in the best of health. God grant that we hear from each other only good and pleasing news, amen.

Secondly, stocks & bonds are not what you think. They come from Petersburg. Putivil, Transport, Volga, Maltzev, etc., are manufacturers. They deal in rolling and floating stock — that is, railroads and 100-ruble shares that go for 300. That’s because of the dividends. The more dividends, the more they’re worth. But since nobody knows how many there’ll be, you buy blind. That’s called a bull market; all the Jews are cashing in on it and so am I. You would not believe, my dear wife, how small-time investors have become millionaires! They live in huge dachas, travel to Europinian spas, drape their women in silks and satins, speak French, play the piano, eat jam, and drink jewlips all day long. Their children have governors and ride icicles. A ruble means nothing to them. They live high and the sky is the limit. And it’s all from stocks & bonds!

You should see Kreshchatik Square. It’s mobbed with Jews. And why shouldn’t it be? We’re chased out of the brokerages and kept off the streets, and as we need to know the latest, it’s sheer bedlam. But I mean bedlam! Today a new issue of Putivil 187’s arrived from Petersburg. Well, who doesn’t want new Putivils? And since Maltzevs, so they say, closed at 1,350, who can resist Maltzevs? Shares are up every day. On my Putivils alone, praise God, I could clear a few hundred rubles. But you can flog me before I’ll sell them. In fact, I’m planning to buy 150 more, 5 Maltzevs, and a couple of Volgas — and some Transports too, if all goes well, because the word from Petersburg is, buy Transports for all you’re worth! The whole world is holding them: Jews, housewives, doctors, teachers, servants, tradesmen — who doesn’t have Transports? When two Jews meet, the first question is: “How are Transports today?” Walk into a restaurant and the owner’s wife asks: “What’s the latest on Transports?” Go buy a box of matches and the grocer has to know if Transports are up or down. In a word, there’s money to be made here. Everyone is investing, growing, getting rich, and so am I. But because I’m in a hurry, I’ll be brief. God willing, I’ll write more in my next letter. Meanwhile, may He grant you health and success. Give everyone my very fondest greetings.