Tevye the Dairyman & Motl the Cantor's Son

by Sholem Aleichem

  “Quite safely! Don’t worry!” my brother Elyahu says. He’s sick and tired of having to give everyone an accounting. We’re told it’s time to say goodbye. They all get ready for it.

  We look around—my mother is gone! Where is she? No one knows. My brother Elyahu is beside himself! Our friend Pinni has lost his tie. Lazer says we might miss the train. Good, here comes my mother. Her face is red, her eyes swollen.

  My brother Elyahu jumps all over her. “What’s the matter with you? Where were you?”

  “At the cemetery, to say goodbye to Papa.”

  My brother Elyahu turns away. We are all speechless. Ever since we decided to go to America, this is the first time that our father has crossed my mind. I feel a twinge in my heart. Everyone is going to America, and my poor father is remaining behind in the cemetery, all alone. They don’t let me think about this too long. They shout out to me and tell me to climb up on the wagon. How can I climb up on such a tall wagon with that mountain of bedding? There’s a solution—Lazer puts his broad shoulders under me, and up I go!

  Suddenly everyone is kissing, weeping, and wailing, worse than Tisha B’Av. More than anyone my mother is crying. She throws her arms around our neighbor Pessi. “You have been a sister to me, dearer than a sister!” she says. Our neighbor Pessi doesn’t cry, but her double chin is trembling, and tears as big as peas roll silently down her fat, shiny cheeks. We’ve all finished kissing—except for Pinni. To see Pinni kissing people, you don’t need theater. Because he’s nearsighted, he can’t find the right place to kiss. He kisses a beard or the tip of a nose, or he bumps foreheads. To make matters worse, when he walks, he hops and gets tangled up in his own feet. I tell you, watching Pinni, you can get a bellyache laughing.

  But thank God we’re all sitting in the wagon, or on the wagon, on top. Sitting on and between pillows are my mother, Bruche, and Teibl. Across from them are my brother Elyahu and his friend Pinni. Lazer and I sit on the coachman’s seat. My mother wants me to sit at her feet, but my brother Elyahu says I’m better off on the coachman’s seat. I’m definitely better off there! I can see everybody, and everybody can see me. Lazer takes hold of the whip. The crowd shouts goodbye. The women weep.

  “Be well!”

  “God be with you!”

  “Write us about your health!”

  “Be successful!”

  “Don’t forget us!”

  “Write every week, for God’s sake, a letter every week!”

  “Give regards to Moishe and Basya, and Meyer and Zlate and Chaneh-Perl and Sarah-Ruchl and their children.”

  “We wish you luck! Be safe! Be well!” we shout back from the wagon, and I swear we are on our way. Lazer lashes the three eagles. He treats them to a blow from a stick. The wheels turn. We’re shaking and swaying. I bounce on the coachman’s seat and almost fall off from happiness. I feel a tickle in my throat and I want to sing.

  We’re going, we’re going, we’re going to America!

  XIII

  WE STEAL ACROSS THE BORDER

  A .

  Riding on a train is paradise! Riding in a wagon isn’t bad either, but it shakes a lot and afterward your sides hurt. Lazer’s horses really do fly like eagles, but still it takes a long time to get to the station, and when we get there, it’s hard to get down from the wagon. It’s easier for me than for the rest—after all, I’m right beside Lazer on the coachman’s seat. It’s a hard seat and my bones ache, but I can jump off in a minute. The others can’t jump.

  It’s worst of all for the women—they’re buried in bundles. First we have to get all the bundles and all the bedding off the wagon, and then we can pull the women out one by one. And Lazer does it all. He’s an angry man, always cursing, but he’s an honest, dependable coachman. Too bad he dumps us all with the bundles and the bedding at the train station and then goes off looking for a return fare. We feel abandoned by him. First of all, we have problems with the Gentile station guard. He’s unhappy with all the bundles, especially the bedding. What concern is it of his that we’re taking a lot of pillows? My mother talks politely to him, tells him we’re going to America. That makes him even angrier, and he tells us to go to a place I’m ashamed to mention.

  “We have to shmear the goy’s palm, give him a little something,” my brother Elyahu tells our friend Pinni in a combination of Yiddish and Hebrew. Our friend Pinni is our leader, our brains. He speaks good Russian, but unfortunately he is very hotheaded. My brother Elyahu also has a bit of a temper, but not as bad as Pinni’s. Pinni approaches the goy and talks to him in Russian.

  “Listen, you! The devil will not take you if we go to America with a lot of pillows, and we’ll give you a drink of brandy if you shut your trap, you pig!”

  The goy calls him a few choice names. We’re afraid of making a scene that might bring the police down on our heads.

  My mother, wringing her hands, cries at Pinni, “Who asked you to show off your Russian?”

  “Don’t worry, the goy will be happy to take half a ruble, and we’ll all make up.”

  And that’s what happens—they do make up. Pinni spouts Russian, and the goy curses but carries all the bundles and pillows to a large building with high windows called a waiting room. Then the real fun begins. What more do they want? The goy says they won’t let us on the train with so many pillows and all those rags. (He is obviously referring to the blankets, which are a bit ragged, with the cotton batting sticking out, but to him they’re rags!) We have to see the stationmaster.

  Who should go? Of course, Pinni! Pinni goes with the goy to the stationmaster, and I tag along. Pinni negotiates with the stationmaster but in a different tone. He isn’t as hotheaded as before, but he speaks and waves his hands. He utters odd words I’ve never heard: “Columbus . . . civilization . . . Alexander von Humboldt . . . Slonimski . . . mathematics.” I’ve forgotten the others. The stationmaster listens carefully and is silent. Pinni is giving him a history lesson! But that does no good either. We have to check all the bedding into the baggage department and get a receipt. My mother is frantic. What will we sleep on?

  B .

  My mother’s fears are off the mark. The problem is not what to sleep on but where to find a place to sit and not suffocate. Never mind sleeping, what about sitting? Everybody, Jew and Gentile alike, is fighting for a spot. The delay over the bedding causes us to lose the best seats. We barely manage to seat the women and put the bundles on the ground, my mother on one side of the car, Bruche and Teibl on the other. If they want to talk to each other, they have to shout across the car. People laugh at them. My brother Elyahu and our friend Pinni are having trouble even finding standing room.

  Pinni can’t see well and keeps knocking his forehead. And me? Don’t worry, I have it good. I have it great! True, I’m squeezed on all sides, but I’m standing near a window. What I see, you have surely never seen. Before my eyes houses are flying by, mileposts, trees, people, fields, forests—not to be described! And how the train flies! And how the wheels clatter, how they screech, how they whistle!

  My mother is afraid I might fall out the window, and every minute she shouts out, “Motl! Motl?” A rich-looking man with blue eyeglasses mimics her singsong: “Motl! Motl?” All the Gentiles laugh. The Jews pretend not to hear—certainly my mother pays them no heed. She keeps shouting, “Motl! Motl?” What more does she want? She wants me to eat something. We’ve brought all kinds of good food with us: radishes, onions and garlic, green cucumbers, and hard-boiled eggs, one egg apiece. I haven’t enjoyed eating so in a long time. But Pinni spoils our meal. He always feels he has to defend Jews. He can’t stand that the Gentiles are laughing at us for eating onions and garlic. He draws himself up to his full height and says in Russian to the rich-looking man with the blue eyeglasses, “And what about you eating pork?”

  That comment cuts the Gentiles to the quick. One of them is really offended. He jumps up and gives our Pinni a resounding slap. Pinni tries to give him two slaps in return, but he’s nearsighted, and
his slaps land on another Gentile. Luckily the conductor and head conductor arrive, and a big scene follows. Everyone speaks at the same time, the Jews complaining about the Gentiles. One’s satchel is dropped on his toe, another’s hat is thrown out the window. The Gentiles claim it’s all lies, a frame-up! The Jews have two Gentile witnesses, one of them a priest. A priest won’t lie. The Gentiles say the Jews have bribed the priest. The priest holds forth as if sermonizing. As the accusations fly back and forth, we stop at several stations.

  At each station a few passengers leave the train, opening up more space. Our women are now sitting like ladies with their bundles on seats. My brother Elyahu and our friend Pinni have the best seats and are delighted. Teibl notices that Pinni’s cheek is swollen, and she can see finger marks on it. She falls apart, distressed by the slap that left such marks. Pinni swears he doesn’t feel a thing—it only smarts a bit and will soon pass. He hates to waste time talking about what’s past. He’d rather talk to the other Jews on the train and find out where they’re going. It turns out many of them are going to America. We’re thrilled to hear it.

  “Why didn’t you say something? We’re also going to America!” says Pinni, and we quickly become acquainted. We find out which town they came from, which city they’re going to, and with whom they’ll be staying.

  “You’re going to New York? We’re going to Philadelphia!”

  “What’s this Philadelphia?”

  “It’s also a city, like New York.”

  “Now slow down, just wait a minute! Philadelphia compared to New York is like Ayshishok compared to Vilna, Drozhne compared to Odessa, Otvotzk compared to Warsaw, Semionevka compared to Petersburg, Kozeletz compared to Harkov—”

  “My goodness! You’ve been all over the world, kayn eyn horeh!”

  “Let me tell you! If you wish, I can list all the cities where I’ve been.”

  “Why don’t you leave it for Shabbes. Better talk about what to do when we get to the border.”

  “You’ll do what we do, what everyone does.”

  By this time all the Jews move in closer together to talk about stealing across the border. I don’t understand what “stealing across the border” means. Are we thieves? Who should I ask? My mother is a woman, and what does a woman know? My brother Elyahu doesn’t like to be bothered. A kid like me, he says, shouldn’t mix in among grown-ups. Pinni is distracted by all the talking he’s involved in. Everyone has a different story to tell about borders. One says that the best border to steal across is at Novoselitz. Another says Brod is better than all of them. A third says that Ungeni is also not too bad, but the others immediately object.

  “You call Ungeni a border! You call Romania a country! Let them sink into the earth, border and all!”

  “Quiet! We’re at the border!”

  C.

  The border, I thought, must be something with horns, but it turns out to be nothing of the kind: the same houses, the same Jews, the same Gentiles as ours. They even have a market with shops and stalls—everything exactly like ours. My sister-in-law Bruche and our friend Pinni’s wife Teibl go to the market shopping. I want to go too, but my mother won’t let me leave her side for a minute. She’s afraid they’ll kidnap me right at the border. My brother Elyahu and our friend Pinni aren’t around—they’re off talking to the other Jews, strangers to us. My mother says they’re agents who’ll help us steal across the border. One of them really does look like a thief. He wears a green coat, carries a white umbrella, and has thievish eyes.

  The other agent looks like a fine person with a cap. She’s a woman, hanging around the circle of men. She looks honest and pious, judging from the wig she wears and the way she’s always bringing God into everything. She asks my mother where she will bless the candles if we’re still here on Shabbes. My mother says we won’t be holding Shabbes here. With God’s help, she says, we’ll be on the other side of the border by Shabbes. The woman makes a pious face and says, “Amen, reboynu shel oylem!—praised be our Father above!” But she’s afraid we’re being misled. The agents with whom we’re dealing are just plain thieves. They want to trick us out of our money and will lead us into a quagmire. If we want to steal across the border, we should do so with her help and everything will turn out well.

  Could she also be a thief? Would a thief be wearing a wig and be so pious?

  My brother Elyahu and our friend Pinni have returned and are upset. It looks like they’ve quarreled. They blame each other for having to spend Shabbes here, although it’s no problem to observe Shabbes in the town. We find out that both agents are threatening to expose us for planning to steal across the border. And, of course, my mother is already crying. My brother Elyahu gets angry at her for ruining her eyes. On account of her eyes, he says, they won’t allow us into America! Then my brother Elyahu and Pinni stop dealing with the agents, saying, “That’s it! We’re not going to America, and we aren’t stealing across the border!”

  My heart sinks. I believe him. But it’s just a trick, a scheme out of Pinni’s head to get rid of the agents!

  And instead we deal with the woman, who takes some money and tells us to be ready by midnight. The night is dark—perfect for stealing across the border. I’m impatient to see what a border is and how we will steal across it.

  D .

  All day we’re busy preparing. We have to pack everything up and give it to the pious woman. She’ll send it all on to us afterward. The main thing is to get us across. She tells us what we’re to do. When it’s midnight, we should go to the outskirts of the town, where there’s a small hill. Once we’re past the hill, we have to go left and then walk and walk till we come to another hill. This time we’re to go right and continue walking until we come to a tavern. Only one of us should go into the tavern, where he will find two peasants drinking brandy at a table. He should go over to them and say “Chaimove,” and that’s all. As soon as they hear this word, she says, they will lead you to a little forest, where four more peasants will be waiting for you. If they’re asleep, wake them up. When you’re in the forest, go quietly, don’t make a peep, or they’ll hear you and shoot. At every step, she says, a soldier with a gun will be ready to shoot. From the forest the peasants will lead us on the right path, going downhill, until we’re on the other side.

  The plan with the hill and the tavern and the forest sounds great to me. My mother is more wary, as are Bruche and Teibl. I laugh at them. Women are wary of a cat too!

  Finally night arrives. We’ve said our evening prayers and eaten supper, and now we’re waiting till it gets really dark. Exactly at twelve we start out. First we men go and then the women, as usual. As the pious woman predicted, we leave the town and see a small hill. We pass the hill and turn left. We walk and walk till we see another hill. At that hill we turn right and walk on until we see the tavern. One of us has to go into the tavern, but who? Naturally, Pinni.

  We wait half an hour, an hour, two hours—no Pinni. The women say we should find out what’s happened to him. Who should go in? My brother Elyahu? My mother says no. I say, “Let me go.” My mother says she’s afraid for me to go.

  Quiet! Here’s Pinni.

  “Where were you all this time?”

  “In the tavern.”

  “Where are the two peasants?”

  “They’re asleep.”

  “Why didn‘t you wake them up?”

  “How do you know I didn’t wake them up?”

  “Why didn’t you say ‘Chaimove’ to them?”

  “How do you know I didn’t say it to them?”

  “Well?”

  “Well—well!”

  “It looks bad.”

  “Who says it looks good?”

  E.

  My brother Elyahu is really clever. He says he and Pinni should both go into the tavern to try waking the peasants. And that’s just what they do. In less than half an hour they are coming with the two sleepy-eyed peasants, who are tipsy and keep spitting and cursing. The word devil is repeated maybe a
hundred times. The women are afraid—I can tell by their sighing and groaning and by the God Almightys that my mother repeats quietly under her breath. She’s afraid to say it out loud. We don’t make a sound. We walk and walk but don’t see any more peasants. Where are the other four?

  Suddenly our two peasants stop and demand to know how much money we have. We’re so terrified that we can’t say a word. My mother steps forward and says we haven’t got any money. They say, “That’s a lie. All Jews have money.” They take out two long knives and stick them right in our faces. “If you don’t give us all you have right now,” they say, “we’ll murder you!”

  We stand speechless, trembling like little lambs. My mother tells my brother Elyahu to undo his pocket and hand over the money. (This is the money we made from the sale of our half of the house.) At that moment my sister-in-law Bruche decides to faint. Seeing her fall, my mother screams, “Help!” Teibl, following her example, also screams, “Help!”

  Suddenly—bang bang!!! Someone is shooting! The shots echo through the woods. The peasants vanish. Bruche comes to.

  My mother grabs me by one hand and my brother Elyahu by the other. “Children! Let’s run! The Guardian of Israel be with us!”

  I don’t know where she finds the strength to run. We keep getting tangled up in trees and falling. We stand up and run farther. My mother keeps turning her head and asking softly, “Pinni, are you running? Bruche, are you running? Teibl, are you running? Run, run, the Guardian of Israel be with us!”

  How far we run I cannot say. We long ago left the woods behind. Day is breaking. A cool breeze is blowing, but we’re very hot. Before us lies a street, and another street, a white church, gardens, and houses. This apparently is the town that the woman told us about. If it is, then we are now on the “other side.”