Boitre

Reb Kalmen, what road should I take when I deliver the chickens? The black highway or the way through the Kreve Wood? God be praised, they are both insecure—what else?

Well, get going, you fool. Go! It might as well be through the Kreve Wood.

In the Kreve Wood the yishuvniks, the Jews from the village, are wandering around. The screams from the women and children reach to high heaven. Listen, gentlemen, from what people are saying, this is just the beginning. They say that, God forbid, there will be no Jews left in the village, not one.

Evil pogroms.

And where is Reb Arn-Volf?

There he sits, over there [points to the door with his goose-quill]. With the assessor since noon. [ . . . ]

Difficult times these days. What high prices! I can’t afford even a small wagon-load of wood. Dayen, do you have a pinch of snuff?

A man who won’t spend the money for his own snuff? Upon my word, it turns my stomach, Reb Yekhiel.

Well, what’s happening with the trousseau for Arn-Volf’s daughter? Has it really disappeared? The wagons attacked and robbed? Whom do they suspect? Is it really the yishuvniks?

They say that the yishuvniks do it out of grief, hunger, poverty. But there’s also an opinion that it’s the bandit Boitre, God help us, who is trying to get even with the town.

Boitre the bandit? Is he really a Jew?

For our sins, a draft-dodger, and according to what people say, he’s even from a good family, more’s the pity. Practically a grandson of the Gaon of Vilna, a prodigy of the Volozhin Yeshiva.

What are you talking about, Dayen? Gaon, shmaon! It’s Yisroel the coachman’s son. Two years ago I had him drafted into the army. There he sits, Bontshe the Recruit-Nabber. I had no end of trouble with him. Had to have him nabbed several times. [ . . . ]

We come here and sit down at our meetings like robots. We talk, but there’s no one to talk to. The kahal should not get involved. You’ll see, it will end badly. At that time, it was Arn-Volf who insisted on having him drafted, not I. So who is responsible here? [ . . . ]

Look, the boy was already a bandit in his mother’s belly [looks around]. And the girl, Arn-Volf’s Sterkele . . . [whispers]

Is that true?

What did you think, that the daughter of the head of the Community, the Parnes Khoydesh, is going to remain an old maid for no reason? That it is no concern of the kahal? Why should a whole Jewish community be dragged into a misfortune, when it is Arn-Volf’s own affair? It’s already impossible to ship any merchandise out of the city. [ . . . ]

[In the adjoining room the voice of woman is heard singing a Polish song]. That’s Sterke [the Rabbi and the Dayens cover their ears].

“The voice of a woman . . .” It is not proper, not proper.

Take her to the courtyard, out there with the aristocratic ladies and such forbidden things.

[The singing stops]

What nonsense. And the yishuvniks, Kalmen? Are they really saying it’s the yishuvniks that are committing robberies there?

And you, Yekhiel, think that because you’re a moneylender and don’t ship merchandise, that you’re exempt from it all? Wait, they’ll be after your promissory notes and your pawns as well!

Reb Kalmen, the whole town knows that he was handed over to the army on account of one of your geese as well. I’m not responsible. What harm do I do to anybody? [ . . . ]

[arn-volf goes over to the table, sets himself down with dignity in the chair of the parnes khoydesh.]

Nobody takes anything away from Arn-Volf! Nobody grabs anything from him! There’s no higher Jewish authority. But the fact that a Jewish girl will now have to get married in a way that’s not fitting for the daughter of a good family . . . [ironically] I suppose I deserve it. I insist that the kahal proclaim that the yishuvniks driven from the villages are not to be allowed into the town. Those wretches, once they became homeless, cast off all their Judaism—and busy themselves only with theft and robbery. They lead a dissolute life, they get drunk. Not only that, but they carry various diseases, fevers, scarlatina—may God spare us—with which they have been punished by God. Let it be thus. And the kahal will also not be silent regarding that Boitre fellow. Bontshe! The assessor will have the keeper of the keys accompany you. You then will travel the region from settlement to settlement to find out who he is and where he is. They say he keeps himself somewhere in a carpenter’s workshop. The kahal cannot tolerate the influence of ruffians. And without fail, gentlemen, the wedding of the daughter of Arn-Volf the parnes khoydesh will not be delayed. The future in-laws are already on their way [sighs]. Because of the problems facing many of us, the evil decrees that cause Jews to lose their livelihoods, the wedding will be celebrated as the parnes-khoydesh decrees. There will be no barrels of liquor in the streets. There will be no tables prepared for the poor, in order not to provoke, God forbid, the hostility of the few decent yishuvniks, who have been driven out of their homes and are, alas, wandering around the fields and forests. That is how it will be. I ask if the kahal is in agreement with my opinion.

The kahal is in agreement. [ . . . ]

What other matters are before the kahal?

The baker’s apprentices came with a petition to the kahal that they wish to form a khevre [association]. They say they do not wish to be ranked with the riff-raff and sent off to serve in the army.

Baker’s apprentices in a khevre? It’s not a trade. All the women can do it. What is the opinion of the kahal?

The kahal agrees.

The kahal agrees.

The bes din has deliberated and is in agreement with the opinion of the parnes khoydesh.

They said that in case they do not get a khevre they will go over to Boitre, like Lemele Put.

What, is there no more law or morality?

In addition they said that the parnes khoydesh is mistaken if he thinks he will be giving away his daughter in marriage to the son of the Mohylna Rabbi. . . .

Beggars, good-for-nothings—what kind of talk is that?

That’s what they said. And when I asked them “why?” they said “you’ll soon see why.” [ . . . ]

[ . . . ] Rabbi, you are an honest man and scholar of the Torah, explain it to me. How many Jews earn their livelihood from my olive press, how many do I give employment in my brewery, my mill, and my flax business? Why do people hate me? Why does the town want to take revenge against me of all people? Tell me, Rabbi, why do they spread the rumor that my Sterke, an honest Jewish girl, was involved with Khayimke Boitre? I’ll have them arrested, I’ll make it a town of widows and orphans! I’ll have them whipped till the blood flows. [ . . . ]

Reb Arn-Volf, in my opinion you’re right. But, you see . . . the kahal after all can’t . . . it can’t, how shall I put it . . . can’t be expected to. . . . You’ll see, it will all end badly! [ . . . ]

[All exit. Arn-Volf remains alone, sits down at the table with his head in his hands. Beyle, his wife, quietly enters at stage right and stands behind his chair.]

Arn-Volf?

It’s not good! Not good!

What are we supposed to do with her? With Stere? She says she won’t immerse herself in the mikve. She refuses. And when I started talking! Talking about the future bridegroom—what distinguished lineage, what a fine mind—she answered, I can hardly bring myself to say it, that she would strangle him.

What? [ jumps up]

What can I do? I’m only her stepmother. A dybbuk has entered into that girl.

Where is she? What kind of talk is that? Beyle, call her! Sterke!

[beyle goes to the door and calls her in.]

Sterke, Sterkele. Your father is calling you!

[stere enters, wrapped in a shawl.]

Come here, Stere. Sit down. I want to ask your advice.

Well?

There’s a world of mothers with children, not a parnes-khoydesh world, just simple people. They marry off their children on time, at eight years of age, at eleven, at fourteen! So I ask you, why have I been cursed? Doesn’t it bother you that you’re now an old maid?

I wanted to get married on time.

I’ve heard that already! Foolishness! I committed a great sin! I’m only human. Well and good, you had a fiancé, a fine man, a man of learning, a man of property. . . . But you have a father who is a murderer and he killed him. I have sinned. But Khayimke is no more. He died in the military, he’s dead!

And who is Boitre?

Shh . . . Don’t talk so loud . . . Shh . . .

It’s good that Boitre carried off the trousseau. I’ll dress in rags. I’ll spit in his face, that fine bridegroom, with his sidelocks, his high Adam’s apple. He’s just like Yekhiel Malve and his promissory notes. It all smells of axle-grease and brandy. Oh no, I won’t cut my hair! Never . . . Who can help me? God? I could have been born somewhere else. I could have been born among the Zelichowickis, not even a Jewish girl. And who is Boitre? Who is he? A robber? For justice! Such a man has already been written about, but you don’t know it. You know nothing.

You impudent girl! Khayimke Boitre is a murderer!

I told you, Arn-Volf, that nothing good will come out of those teachers, from learning German, from those books she reads.

I will run away! I will run wherever my eyes take me.

[boitre appears in an open window. stere stands with her face to the window, trembles.]

Oh!

What is it, daughter?

[Stere looks nervously at the window. arn-volf and beyle also turn towards the window, but Boitre has disappeared. They do not understand what has happened.]

Curtain [ . . . ]

[In the Kreve Forest]

I’ve brought a wagon full of poor people and there are women and children as well. All hell has broken loose. The black highway is full of people. Mazel tov, bridegroom! [kisses boitre]. Mazel tov, bride. What, you’re all going to Volhynia? Really? Right after the wedding, all of you to Volhynia? Well, why not? The poor will become peasants. Enough of slaving away! Why not? I’m coming too. Yes, Yerakhmiel Balegole [coachman] too. Why not? A country of our own. What else?

Sit, Yerakhmiel, sit down.

Ay, if your father Yisroel were alive, he’d be proud. What an honor! The son of a simple coachman. Are you really leading the common people to Volhynia? So, a king, a true monarch! I can understand it. We’ve labored long enough for the rich. We’ve had it up to here. Let the poor man do something for himself, too. Why not? As the prophet says—a wolf with a wolf and a sheep with a sheep.

My such a great scholar! A coachman the son of a coachman.

Lechayim, Jews, to life! An end to our troubles! What’s the matter? Let there be joy! We’ll do a dance [tucks up his coat, dances].

Let’s sing the Koza! Jews, it’s the messianic age! Prideh koza do voza! [Ukrainian, lit., “The goat will come to the cart,” a song and saying meaning “your turn will come; we’ll get you yet.”]

Pride koza do voza! Pride koza do voza! [ . . . ]

[The sound of drums is heard in the forest. The people grow silent.]

The whole forest is surrounded by troops. It’s impossible to get out of the forest.

Ay, he was the one who got us surrounded. He did it! [to her father] I will go to the magistrate and tell him that you hid people from the tax officials, hid soldiers, I’ll say you steal Zelichowicki’s brandy. He is not devout! Do not believe him! He once counted money on the Sabbath eve and lit candles!

The kahal has no idea what this is about. Do not believe her. The young lout must have spread malicious rumors. The magistrate is a drunkard and a quarrelsome person and he doesn’t care a whit about kahal matters.

Let it be! I’ll do it myself! [ . . . ]

Khayim! Run away, Khayim! The magistrate and two hundred soldiers are coming here!

[The kahal and Bes Din jump up from their seats. The poor at their table are terribly frightened. Boitre remains seated as if nothing had happened. Stere falls to the table and weeps.]

Oy, we’ll all be arrested!

What did you think, Khayimke—that the world is chaos, without rules? What did you think, you lowlife—that you will stomp on our traditional Jewish ways? Kahal is kahal, and you, my daughter, come with me now! I will forgive you. Do not shame me in front of people, daughter.

[Stere jumps to her father, wants to throw herself at him.]

Let me do it.

Sinful Jew, you thought to yourself: “there is no law and there is no judge.” Wait, they will be flogging your hide. Do you know that even in hell there is no place for you. Jews, by the will of God and of this holy community, I decree that whoever has even a spark of Jewishness in his heart must at once avoid being in his presence [all are silent].

Khayimke, run away!

Wait, Reb Arn-Volf, we still have to perform the marriage ceremony!

In hell they’ll perform the marriage ceremony for you and the Queen of Sheba!

Help, robbers!

Perform the ceremony.

Disappear, you murderer! My daughter is no bride for you! Open the doors, you’ll all be arrested! You’ll be put in chains!

Ay, beat him! What has he done? Ay!

[No one makes a move. Boitre and Stere sit calmly as if nothing had happened. Everything is quiet for a while, a motionless pause. The drums are heard at the foot of the nearby hill.]

Khayim, they’re coming! Here they come!

Can we get out?

No.

Burn the woods! Set the edge of the forest on fire!

Oh, there’s a fire!

They’ve set a fire!

A raging fire! A raging fire! [ . . . ]

Where is Arn-Volf? Let’s finish him off!

Come quickly, quickly, run away!

Yes! [he clasps Stere in his arms and leaps up the hill with her]

Come down, they’re shooting here! Come down!

I’ll take her with me.

Come!

[Shooting is heard.]