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

Secondly, I’ve been laid up all week in Boiberik. It’s more annoying than serious, thank God. I took a fall on my back and couldn’t turn over onto my stomach. Now I’m feeling better. All week long I thought I would go out of my mind. Just imagine, eight whole days away from the Exchange, with no way of knowing the latest prices! From what I hear, though, things are hopping. God willing, I’ll be back to work tomorrow or the day after. Meanwhile, I’m writing you this letter. It’s a chance to chat and let you know what I’m worth. You mustn’t think I’m raving if I tell you that I’m currently holding in my portfoliage 150 shares of Putivil, 100 of Transport, 5 Maltzevs, 5 Liliputs, and 5 Roads & Rails, quite apart from various premiums. The Putivils and Transports have been optioned for 3 rubles a share with the remainder due on delivery. If the deal goes through — and there’s no reason why it shouldn’t — I’ll clear 4 to 5 grand after expenses. I’ve also bought long on a few dozen Putivils and Maltzevs, which should be good for another 1,800.

That’s close to 7,000 rubles right there. My 5 Maltzevs are worth 4 G’s at a dead minimum and it will be a scandal if I can’t get 2 apiece for them despite their having dipped — that’s just a sell-off by the Petersburg margin traders to cover their debts. And I’m still left with the two jewels in my crown, my Liliputs and Roads & Rails. They’re as good as gold, both of them, with 18 whole days to go until the first! If Liliputs keep climbing at 100 a day, you have a surefire 1,800 x 5, which is 9,000 R’s. And with Roads & Rails you’re looking at 150 x 18 x 5, which comes, if I’m not mistaken, to 13,500. Mind you, I’m not even counting the Volgas, Dniepers, Dons, and other small change. In a word, once it’s all in the bank I’ll be worth roughly, in round numbers, give or take a bit, 40 to 50 grand! Let all go well until the first and I’ll take my profits, switch to buying short, and work the other side of the street; then I’ll go back to longs and rake it in again. If the good Lord wills it, my 50 G’s will be worth 100, my 100, 200, my 200, 500, right up to a million! What, silly girl, will be the difference between me and Brodsky then? He’s only human, Brodsky is: he eats, drinks, and sleeps just like the rest of us. Believe me, I’ve seen him with my own eyes and hope to see better.

In short, my dear, there’s no need for concern. I’ve got the hang of the market and have become so good at it that I’m even asked for advice. Being urged by you to quit is nothing new. But just look at Khinkes. That’s a big-time speculator who is also a fiend for gambling; he plays the market by day and the card tables by night. Just last week he dreamed a low card and ran off to Petersburg and Warsaw to sell off his entire portfoliage. Don’t think he isn’t tearing his hair out now. That will teach him to believe in dreams!

I can’t wait for tomorrow’s closings. As soon as I get to town, I’m going to a jeweler’s to pick up a diamond brooch and earrings. If I have time, I’ll also shop for linens, tablecloths, handkerchiefs, some smocks for the children, and a few other household items. You see how wrong you are to say I’ve forgotten you! And because I’m in a hurry, I’ll be brief. God willing, I’ll write more in my next letter. Meanwhile, God grant you health and success. Kiss the children for me and give regards to your parents and my fondest greetings to everyone. And tell Berl-Binyomin not to spend his nights playing klabberjass!

Your husband,

Menakhem-Mendl

P.S. About Vasilkov, you miss the point. A half-year’s residence there is a must for a permit for Yehupetz. Once I’m established in Yehupetz, God willing, I’ll buy an apartment in the best neighborhood and send for you and the children at once. You would be less critical if you knew it better; it’s a lovely town, there’s no comparing it to Odessa. You couldn’t wish for nicer, more considerate people, men and women alike. Their only weakness is cards; they stay up calling “Deal!” until the wee hours. The older folk favor a game called Preference while the young ones play whist, rummy, and klabberjass.

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, in case you’re fearing more bad news, mazel tov! Your baby brother Berl-Binyomin has remarried in record time. He didn’t let two months go by before setting out for Berdichev, which is the world’s biggest supplier of stepmothers, and coming back with one for his children. And she’s all of nineteen, the lucky fellow! I tell you, it’s disgusting. How right my mother, bless her, is to say: “Better to bury a husband than a mother.” I suppose you might shed a few tears for me, Mendl, if God forbid I died before you, but I’ll never give your Yehupetz ladies the satisfaction because they’d be all over you like flies. They wouldn’t even wait for my unveiling. Well, the dirty pot deserves a dirty spoon, as my mother says. Think of the new life you can have in Yehupetz!

You say you’re going like a house afire, Mendl? Why don’t you jump into the flames! I wouldn’t come see you in Boiberik if you were on your deathbed! And don’t think your fifty thousand makes an impression. In the first place, you’re the same husband with or without it. And in the second place, it isn’t worth a pinch of snuff. “Money on paper is not even paper money,” my mother says…. I’ll tell you the truth, my dear husband: if you’re not pocketing a few rubles now because you’re waiting for them to turn into fifty thousand, you’re either a madman or a heartless murderer with no pity for your children or wife, if you still have one when this letter reaches you. His lordship is a great one for tomorrows. Tomorrow he’s going to the jeweler, tomorrow he’s off to buy linen …any time but today. For heaven’s sake, let God take care of tomorrow and do your shopping while you can! Strike while the iron is hot! You know what a clever woman my mother is. “What good,” she says to me, “are all his promises of tablecloths and handkerchiefs when he should be sending you cash? The Angel of Death doesn’t wait for a man to buy his shrouds…” Give me a few weeks to get my health back and I’m off to Boiberik, God willing — and I don’t envy you when I get there. I’ll dog your steps, I won’t leave you alone for a minute — believe me, you won’t wait for the morning to clear out! I am, from the bottom of my heart,

Your truly faithful wife,

To my wise, 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, the sky has fallen in. The Petersburg closings have knocked us for a loop. It’s like being struck by lightning or a bomb. Every broker is in mourning, the Kreshchatik looks hit by an earthquake. And once Petersburg lowered the boom, Warsaw followed suit. It’s a disaster, a calamity, a catastrophe! All the investors are wiped out and so am I. The market is finished. The brokerages are deserted. The banks are desperate. It’s as bad as the destruction of the Temple! Just imagine, my dear wife, that my Maltzevs, which I put at 2,000 come hell or high water, have gone and closed at 950! Or take Putivils: never in my darkest dreams did I imagine they would drop from 180 to 67. And don’t even ask about Transports — Transports are in the pits, no one will touch them. It’s the same with Volgas, with Dons, with every share on the board. And that’s still nothing compared to Warsaw. Warsaw is a shambles, there hasn’t been a slaughter like Warsaw in human history! In Warsaw your Liliputs nosedived from 2,450 to 620. And Roads & Rails! They were looking so good we were sure they would break 3,000. What do you think they’re worth now? Would you believe 400 shmegaroos? How’s that for a price? I tell you, it couldn’t be worse. Who would have thought it of Warsaw? Up, up, up it all goes and suddenly, out of the blue — poof! Nobody knows where it came from. This person says one thing, that person says another. It’s all a question of money — that is, of not having it. The Germans call it Geltmangel, but in plain Jewish it’s known as going broke…. But how can that be, you ask, when just yesterday the streets were paved with gold? A good question. Still, everyone is ruined and so am I. To tell the truth, Petersburg is not as bad as Warsaw. The market is down there too, but at least it fell gradually, 20 or 30 points at a time, such things have been known to happen. But Warsaw — Warsaw shouldn’t happen to a Jew! Sodom was nothing next to Warsaw. There isn’t a day that Warsaw doesn’t drop 100, 200, 300 points. We’ve taken one beating after another, we’re too punch-drunk to know what’s hit us. Millions have been lost in Warsaw, millions! Good lord, what were we thinking of? If only, my dear wife, I had listened to you, I’d have the world at my feet now. Not even Brodsky could have held a candle to me …