—The Book of Morals.
Be pleased to remember that this tale points no moral, that there is absolutely nothing to be deduced from it, and that in narrating1 it I am but repeating a curious incident that belongs to the East Side. It is a strange place, this East Side, with its heterogeneous2 elements, its babble3 of jargons4. Its noise and its silence, its impenetrable mystery, its virtues5, its romance, and its poverty—above all, its poverty! Some day I shall tell you something about the poverty of the East Side that will tax your credulity.
There lived on the East Side once a man who had no fear of God. His name was Shatzkin, and there 208had been a time when he was a learned man, skilled in the interpretation6 of Talmudic lore7, fair to look upon and strong.
Like many another outcast he had come with his story and his mystery out of the “poisonous East,” and there was no tie between him and his neighbours save the tie of Judaism. It is a wonderful bond between men, this tie of Judaism, a bond of steel that it has taken four thousand years of suffering and death to forge, and its ends are fastened to men’s hearts by rivets8 that are stronger than adamant9, and the rabbis call these rivets “The fear of God.”
The heat of summer came on. You who swelter in your parlour these sultry days—do you know what the heat of summer means to two families chained by poverty within a solitary10 room in a Ghetto11 tenement12, where there is neither light nor air, where the pores of the walls perspire13, where the stench of decay is ever present, where there is nothing but heat, heat, heat? You who have read with horror the tale of the Black Hole of Calcutta—have you seen a child lie upon a bare floor, gasping14, and gasping and gasping for breath 209amid the roomful of silent people who are stitching for bread? I would give a year of my life to wipe out a certain memory that is awakened15 each time I hear a child cry—it was terrible.
But I was telling you the story of Shatzkin.
The heat of summer came on, and his youngest-born died in his arms for lack of nourishment16. And while his wife sat wringing17 her hands and the other children were crying, Shatzkin laid the lifeless body upon the bare floor, and, donning his praying cap, raised his voice and chanted:
“Great is my affliction, O God of Israel, but Thou knowest best!”
And it grew hotter, and the other children succumbed18.
“You had better send them to the country,” said the doctor, and, seeing Shatzkin staring at him dumbly, “Don’t you understand what I mean?” he asked. Shatzkin nodded. He understood full well and—and that night another died, and Shatzkin bowed his head and cried:
“Great is my affliction, O God of Israel, but Thou knowest best!”
Within a week the Shatzkins were childless—it 210was a terrible summer—and when the congregation B’nai Sholom assembled upon the following Sabbath and the rabbi spoke19 words of comfort, Shatzkin, with his face buried in his hands, murmured:
“My sorrow is nigh unbearable21, O God of Israel, but Thou knowest best!”
And now the heat grew greater, and the sweatshops, with all their people, were as silent as the grave. The men cut the cloth and ironed it, and the women stitched, stitched, stitched, with never a sound, and there was no weeping, for their misery22 was beyond the healing power of tears.
Shatzkin’s wife fell to the floor exhausted23, and they carried her to her room above, and sent for a doctor.
“The sea air would do her good,” said the doctor.
“The sea air,” repeated Shatzkin, stupidly. “The sea air.”
“Keep her as cool as you can. I will call again in the morning.”
“The sea air,” was all that Shatzkin said. “The sea air.”
211In the middle of the night the woman cried, “Shatzkin! Shatzkin!”
He looked down, for her head lay upon his lap.
“Shatzkin!” She was smiling feebly. “The baby—Aaron—Esther—dear Shatzkin——”
The congregation of B’nai Sholom had assembled for Sabbath eve worship. The rabbi was in the midst of the service.
“Blessed be God on high!” he read from the book. “Blessed be the Lord of Israel, who holds the world in the palm of His hand. For He is a righteous God——”
“Ho! ho!” shouted a derisive24 voice. The startled worshippers hastily turned their heads. They beheld25 a gaunt figure that had risen in the rear of the room, and seemed to be shaking with laughter. It was Shatzkin, but so pale and worn that few recognised him.
“Who are you that disturb this holy service?” cried the rabbi. “Have you no fear of God in your heart?”
The man ceased laughing and stared the rabbi 212in the eyes. “No,” he said, slowly. “I have no fear of God.”
A terrible hush26 had fallen upon the assemblage, and the man, looking vacantly from one to another of the faces that were turned to him, said, in a hollow voice:
“I am Shatzkin. Does no one remember Shatzkin? I sat here only last week,” and, slowly, “my—wife—went—to—the—seashore!”
The rabbi’s face softened27.
“Good, brother Shatzkin,” his voice was trembling. “God has tried——”
“You lie!” cried Shatzkin, fiercely. “Do not speak to me of God! I have no fear of Him! He killed my youngest-born, and I prayed to Him—on my knees I prayed and cried, ‘Thou knowest best!’ And He killed the others—all the others, and I blessed Him and on my knees I prayed, ‘Thou knowest best!’ And He killed my wife—my darling wife—in my arms He killed her. And I am alone—alone—alone, and I fear no God! Curse—curse—curse! Ha! ha! ha! ho! ho! ho! Why should I fear God?”
And throwing a prayer-book to the floor he 213trampled it under foot, and rushed out into the street.
For many years there worked in one of the sweatshops on the East Side a shrivelled little man, with keen blue eyes, who was always laughing. From sunrise until midnight he toiled28, sometimes humming an old melody, but always with a smile upon his lips. The other workers laughed and chatted merrily in the winter time, and became grave and silent in the summer, but rarely did they pay attention to the old man who seemed always happy. Strangers that visited the place were invariably attracted by the cheerful aspect of the man, but when they spoke to him he would smile and answer:
“I must earn money to send my wife to the sea air!”
And if they asked, “Who is this man?” they would be told in a whisper of awe29:
“He has no fear of God!”
And then a significant shake of the head.
The heat of summer is here again. Shatzkin 214has been dead a long time, and the story is almost forgotten. But in the Ghetto each day his cry is repeated, and through the heat and the foul30 air there arises from a thousand hearts the tearless murmur20:
“Great is my affliction, O God of Israel, but Thou knowest best!”
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1
narrating
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| v.故事( narrate的现在分词 ) | |
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heterogeneous
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| adj.庞杂的；异类的 | |
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babble
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| v.含糊不清地说，胡言乱语地说，儿语 | |
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jargons
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| n.行话，黑话，隐语( jargon的名词复数 ) | |
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virtues
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| 美德( virtue的名词复数 )； 德行； 优点； 长处 | |
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interpretation
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| n.解释，说明，描述；艺术处理 | |
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7
lore
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| n.传说；学问，经验，知识 | |
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8
rivets
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| 铆钉( rivet的名词复数 ) | |
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9
adamant
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| adj.坚硬的，固执的 | |
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10
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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11
ghetto
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| n.少数民族聚居区，贫民区 | |
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tenement
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| n.公寓；房屋 | |
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13
perspire
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| vi.出汗，流汗 | |
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gasping
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| adj. 气喘的, 痉挛的 动词gasp的现在分词 | |
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15
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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16
nourishment
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| n.食物，营养品；营养情况 | |
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wringing
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| 淋湿的，湿透的 | |
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succumbed
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| 不再抵抗（诱惑、疾病、攻击等）( succumb的过去式和过去分词 )； 屈从； 被压垮； 死 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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unbearable
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| adj.不能容忍的；忍受不住的 | |
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misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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23
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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derisive
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| adj.嘲弄的 | |
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beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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26
hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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27
softened
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| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
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toiled
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| 长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的过去式和过去分词 )； 艰难缓慢地移动，跋涉 | |
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29
awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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30
foul
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| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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