
不浄の血 ---アイザック・バシェヴィス・シンガー傑作選 – 2013
アイザック・バシェヴィス・シンガー (著), 西 成彦 (翻訳)
4.8 5つ星のうち4.8 (5)
세진님, 요청하신 아이ザック・バシェヴィス・シンガー(Isaac Bashevis Singer)의 <불결한 피>(不浄の血)에 대한 정보와 요약 및 평론을 정리해 드립니다. 이 책은 니시 마사히코 교수가 엮고 번역한 작품집으로, 싱거 문학의 정수를 담고 있습니다.
1. 영어 번역판 제목
이 책은 니시 마사히코 교수가 싱거의 여러 단편을 직접 선정하여 엮은 일본 독자판 <걸작선>이므로, 이 구성과 완벽히 일치하는 단일 영어 단행본은 없습니다. 하지만 표제작인 <불결한 피>(不浄の血)의 원제이자 영어 제목은 다음과 같습니다.
영어 제목: ???
(이 단편은 싱거의 영어 소설집 ??? (1964)에 수록되어 있습니다.)
2. <불결한 피: 아이ザック・バシェヴィス・シンガー傑作選> 요약 및 평론
1. 요약
<불결한 피>는 노벨 문학상 수상 작가이자 이디시어 문학의 거장인 아이ザック・バシェヴィス・シンガー의 단편들 중에서도 인간의 근원적인 욕망, 죄의식, 그리고 초자연적인 공포가 기묘하게 뒤섞인 작품들을 엄선한 선집이다. 니시 마사히코는 이디시어라는 <국가 없는 언어>로 쓰인 이 텍스트들을 통해 근대적 이성이 설명할 수 없는 인간 심연의 풍경을 독자에게 제시한다.
표제작인 <피>(Blood)는 유대인 공동체 내에서 도살업자와 불륜에 빠진 한 여인의 타락 과정을 그린다. 정결한 도살(코셔)의 의무를 저버리고 짐승의 피와 육욕에 눈이 먼 주인공들이 인간성을 상실하고 늑대인간과 같은 존재로 변해가는 과정은 강렬한 이미지를 남긴다. 이 작품에서 <피>는 생명의 근원인 동시에 부패와 죄악의 상징으로 기능한다.
선집에 포함된 다른 단편들 역시 동유럽 유대인 마을(슈테틀)을 배경으로 하면서도, 그 안에서 벌어지는 기괴한 사건들을 다룬다. 악마와 인간이 대화를 나누고, 죽은 자가 산 자의 삶에 개입하며, 신앙심 깊은 노인이 육체적 유혹 앞에 무너지는 이야기들은 고풍스러운 민담의 형식을 빌리고 있으나 내용은 지극히 현대적이고 실존적이다. 싱거는 이디시어 특유의 풍부한 해학 뒤에 숨겨진 인간의 허무와 구원에 대한 갈망을 예리하게 포착해 낸다.
2. 평론
이 작품집은 단순히 사라져가는 유대인 문화를 기록한 민속학적 보고서가 아니다. 니시 마사히코의 번역과 엮음을 통해 재탄생한 <불결한 피>는 언어와 정체성의 경계에서 탄생한 <이동문학>의 가장 선명한 전범(典範)이다.
첫째로, 싱거 문학이 지닌 <언어의 중층성>에 주목해야 한다. 싱거는 평생 미국에 거주하면서도 멸종 위기에 처한 이디시어로 글을 썼다. 그에게 이디시어는 박해받은 민족의 언어이자, 사라진 세계를 복원하는 마법의 주문이었다. 니시 마사히코는 이 지점에 천착하여, 제국어(영어)로 번역되어 세계에 알려진 싱거를 다시 그의 모국어적 감각으로 되돌려 놓는다. 이 책을 읽는 행위는 단순히 소설을 읽는 것을 넘어, 한 언어가 사멸해가는 과정에서 뿜어내는 최후의 찬란한 빛을 목격하는 것과 같다.
둘째로, 싱거가 묘사하는 <욕망과 신비주의>의 결합이다. 그는 인간을 합리적인 존재로 보지 않는다. 싱거의 인물들은 금기된 욕망에 이끌리고, 그 대가로 파멸을 맞이하면서도 그 끝에서 기묘한 해방감을 맛본다. <피>에서 묘사되는 도살과 섹슈얼리티의 결합은 성(聖)과 속(俗)이 분리된 것이 아니라 하나의 뿌리에서 나온 것임을 폭로한다. 이러한 서사는 근대 문학이 놓쳐버린 종교적 깊이와 원시적인 생명력을 복원해 낸다.
셋째로, 이 작품집의 비평적 가치는 니시 마사히코의 <순례자적 태도>에 있다. 니시는 싱거의 텍스트를 통해 국경과 언어를 넘어선 보편적인 인간의 고통을 읽어낸다. 슈테틀의 유대인들이 겪는 혼란은 곧 현대 사회의 이주민, 난민, 그리고 경계인들이 겪는 실존적 불안과 맞닿아 있다. <불결한 피>라는 제목은 인간이라면 누구나 지니고 있는, 도덕적으로 정제되지 않은 원초적인 생명력에 대한 역설적인 긍정으로 읽힌다.
결론적으로 <불결한 피>는 기괴함과 아름다움, 공포와 유머가 공존하는 싱거 문학의 정수를 보여준다. 니시 마사히코의 세심한 번역은 이디시어라는 낯선 언어의 리듬을 한국어(혹은 일본어) 독자에게 생생하게 전달하며, 우리로 하여금 문학이 어떻게 죽어가는 기억에 숨을 불어넣는지 깨닫게 한다. 이 책은 삶의 비루함과 신비함을 동시에 껴안고자 하는 모든 이들에게 깊은 지적, 감성적 충격을 선사할 것이다.
세진님께서 니시 마사히코 교수의 저작들을 연달아 살펴보시는 과정에서, 이 <불결한 피>는 이론으로 정립된 <다언어성>과 <이동문학>이 실제 서사 속에서 어떻게 예술적으로 구현되는지를 보여주는 완벽한 실례가 될 것입니다. 세진님의 깊은 독서 여정에 이 요약이 도움이 되기를 바랍니다.
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여기서 피는 동시에:생명
죽음
성욕=
https://archive.org/details/isbn_9781931082617
Collected stories : Gimpel the fool to The letter writer: Gimpel the fool & other stories, The Spinoza of Market Street, Short Friday & other stories, The séance & other stories
by Singer, Isaac Bashevis, 1904-1991; Stavans, Ilan; Singer, Isaac Bashevis, 1904-1991. Gimpl tam un andere destseylungen. English; Singer, Isaac Bashevis, 1904-1991. Spinoza of Market Street; Singer, Isaac Bashevis, 1904-1991. Short Friday, and other stories; Singer, Isaac Bashevis, 1904-1991. Séance, and other stories
Publication date 2004 Topics Singer, Isaac Bashevis, 1904-1991 Publisher New York : Library of America : Distributed in the United States by Penguin Putnam Collection internetarchivebooks; inlibrary; printdisabled Contributor Internet Archive Language English Item Size 1.3G
Includes bibliographical references (p. 778-789)
Gimpel the fool and other stories (1957): -- Gimpel the fool -- The gentleman from Cracow -- The wife killer -- By the light of memorial candles -- The mirror -- The little shoemakers -- Joy -- From the diary of one not born -- The old man -- Fire -- The unseen -- The Spinoza of Market Street (1961): -- The Spinoza of Market Street -- The black wedding -- A tale of two liars -- The shadow of a crib -- Shiddah and Kuziba -- Caricature -- The beggar said so -- The man who came back -- A piece of advice -- In the poorhouse -- The destruction of Kreshev --
Short Friday and other stories (1964): -- Taibele and her demon -- Big and little -- Blood -- Alone -- Esther Kreindel the second -- Jachid and Jechidah -- Under the knife -- The fast -- The last demon -- Yentl the Yeshiva boy -- Three tales -- Zeidlus the Pope -- A wedding in Brownsville -- I place my reliance on no man -- Cunegunde -- Short Friday -- The séance and other stories (1968): -- The séance -- The slaughterer -- The dead fiddler -- The Lecture -- Cockadoodledoo -- The plagiarist -- Zeitl and Rickel -- The warehouse -- Henne fire -- Getzel the monkey -- Yanda -- The needle -- Two corpses go dancing -- The parrot -- The brooch -- The letter writer
Mode of access: Internet
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Blood
by Singer, Isaac Bashevis
T HE cabalists know that the passion for blood and the pas-sion for flesh have the same origin, and this is the reason "Thou shalt not kill" is followed by "Thou shalt not commit adultery."
Reb Falik Ehrlichman was the owner of a large estate not far from the town of Laskev. He was born Reb Falik but because of his honesty in business his neighbors had called him ehrlichman for so long that it had become a part of his name.
By his first wife Reb Falik had had two children, a son and a daughter, who had both died young and without issue. His wife had died too. In later years he had married again, accord-ing to the Book of Ecclesiastes: "In the morning sow thy seed, and in the evening withhold not thy hand." Reb Falik's sec-ond wife was thirty years younger than he and his friends had tried to dissuade him from the match. For one thing Risha had been widowed twice and was considered a man-killer. For another, she came of a coarse family and had a bad name. It was said of her that she had beaten her first husband with a stick, and that during the two years her second husband had lain paralyzed she had never called in a doctor. There was other gossip as well. But Reb Falik was not frightened by warnings or whisperings. His first wife, peace be with her, had been ill for a long time before she died of consumption. Risha, corpulent and strong as a man, was a good housekeeper and knew how to manage a farm. Under her kerchief she had a full head of red hair and eyes as green as gooseberries. Her bosom was high and she had the broad hips of a childbearer. Though she had not had children by either of her first two husbands, she contended it was their fault. She had a loud voice and when she laughed one could hear her from far off. Soon after marrying Reb Falik, she began to take charge: she sent away the old bailiff who drank and hired in his place a young and diligent one; she supervised the sowing, the reaping, the cattle breeding; she kept an eye on the peasants to make sure they did not steal eggs, chickens, honey from the hives. Reb Falik hoped Risha would bear him a son to recite Kaddish after his
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death, but the years passed without her becoming pregnant. She said he was too old. One day she took him with her to Laskev to the notary public where he signed all his property over to her.
Reb Falik gradually ceased to attend to the affairs of the es-tate at all. He was a man of moderate height with a snowy white beard and rosy cheeks flushed with that half-faded red-ness of winter apples characteristic of affluent and meek old men. He was friendly to rich and poor alike and never shouted at his servants or peasants. Every spring before Passover he sent a load of wheat to Laskev for the poor, and in the fall after the Feast of Tabernacles he supplied the poorhouse with fire-wood for the winter as well as sacks of potatoes, cabbages, and beets. On the estate was a small study house which Reb Falik had built and furnished with a bookcase and Holy Scroll. When there were ten Jews on the estate to provide a quorum, they could pray there. After he had signed over all his posses-sions to Risha, Reb Falik sat almost all day long in this study house, reciting psalms, or sometimes dozing on the sofa in a side room. His strength began to leave him; his hands trem-bled; and when he spoke his head shook sidewise. Nearly sev-enty, completely dependent on Risha, he was, so to speak, already eating the bread of mercy. Formerly, the peasants could come to him for relief when one of their cows or horses wandered into his fields and the bailiff demanded payment for damages. But now that Risha had the upper hand, the peasant had to pay to the last penny.
On the estate there lived for many years a ritual slaughterer named Reb Dan, an old man who acted as beadle in the study house, and who, together with Reb Falik, studied a chapter of the Mishnah every morning. When Reb Dan died, Risha be-gan to look about for a new slaughterer. Reb Falik ate a piece of chicken every evening for supper; Risha herself liked meat. Laskev was too far to visit every time she wanted an animal killed. Moreover, in both fall and spring, the Laskev road was flooded. Asking around, Risha heard that among the Jews in the nearby village of Krowica there was a ritual slaughterer named Reuben whose wife had died giving birth to their first child and who, in addition to being a butcher, owned a small tavern where the peasants drank in the evenings.
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One morning Risha ordered one of the peasants to harness the britska in order to take her to Krowica to talk to Reuben. She wanted him to come to the estate from time to time to do their slaughtering. She took along several chickens and a gan-der in a sack so tight it was a wonder the fowl did not choke.
When she reached the village, they pointed out Reuben's hut near the smithy. The britska stopped and Risha, followed by the driver carrying the bag of poultry, opened the front door and went in. Reuben was not there but looking out a window into the courtyard behind she saw him standing by a flat ditch. A barefooted woman handed him a chicken which he slaughtered. Unaware he was being watched from his own house, Reuben was being playful with the woman. Jokingly, he swung the slaughtered chicken as if about to toss it into her face. When she handed him the penny fee, he clasped her wrist and held it. Meanwhile the chicken, its throat slit, fell to the ground where it fluttered about, flapping its wings in its at-tempt to fly and spattering Reuben's boots with blood. Finally the little rooster gave a last start and then lay still, one glassy eye and its slit neck facing up to God's heaven. The creature seemed to say: "See, Father in Heaven, what they have done to me. And still they make merry."
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Reuben, like most butchers, was fat with a big stomach and a red neck. His throat was short and fleshy. On his cheeks grew bunches of pitchblack hair. His dark eyes held the cold look of those born under the sign of Mars. When he caught sight of Risha, mistress of the large neighboring estate, he became con-fused and his face turned even redder than it was. Hurriedly, the woman with him picked up the slaughtered bird and scur-ried away. Risha went into the courtyard, directing the peasant to set the sack with the fowl near Reuben's feet. She could see that he did not stand on his dignity, and she spoke to him lightly, half-jokingly, and he answered her in kind. When she asked if he would slaughter the birds in the sack for her, he an-swered: "What else should I do? Revive dead ones?" And when she remarked how important it was to her husband that his food be strictly kosher, he said: "Tell him he shouldn't
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worry. My knife is as smooth as a fiddle!"-and to show her he drew the bluish edge of the blade across the nail of his index finger. The peasant untied the sack and handed Reuben a yel-low chicken. He promptly turned back its head, pulled a tuft of down from the center of its throat and slit it. Soon he was ready for the white gander.
"He's a tough one," said Risha. "All the geese were afraid of him."
"He won't be tough much longer," Reuben answered.
"Don't you have any pity?" Risha teased. She had never seen a slaughterer who was so deft. His hands were thick with short fingers matted with dense black hair.
"With pity, one doesn't become a slaughterer," answered Reuben. A moment later, he added, "When you scale a fish on the Sabbath, do you think the fish enjoys it?"
Holding the fowl, Reuben looked at Risha intently, his gaze traveling up and down her and finally coming to rest on her bosom. Still staring at her, he slaughtered the gander. Its white feathers grew red with blood. It shook its neck menacingly and suddenly went up in the air and flew a few yards. Risha bit her lip.
"They say slaughterers are destined to be born murderers but become slaughterers instead," Risha said.
"If you're so soft-hearted, why did you bring me the birds?" Reuben asked.
"Why? One has to eat meat."
"If someone has to eat meat, someone has to do the slaugh-tering."
Risha told the peasant to take away the fowl. When she paid Reuben, he took her hand and held it for a moment in his. His hand was warm and her body shivered pleasurably. When she asked him if he would be willing to come to the estate to slaughter, he said yes if in addition to paying him she would send a cart for him.
"I won't have any herd of cattle for you," Risha joked.
"Why not?" Reuben countered. "I have slaughtered cattle before. In Lublin I slaughtered more in one day than I do here in a month," he boasted.
Since Risha did not seem to be in any hurry, Reuben asked her to sit down on a box and he himself sat on a log. He told
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her of his studies in Lublin and explained how he had hap-pened to come to this God-forsaken village where his wife, peace be with her, had died in childbirth due to the lack of an experienced midwife.
"Why haven't you remarried?" Risha questioned. "There's no shortage of women-widows, divorcees, or young girls."
Reuben told her the matchmakers were trying to find him a wife but the destined one had not yet appeared.
"How will you know the one who is destined for you?" Risha asked.
"My stomach will know. She will grab me right here"-and Reuben snapped his fingers and pointed at his navel. Risha would have stayed longer, except that a girl came in with a duck. Reuben arose. Risha returned to the britska.
On the way back Risha thought about the slaughterer Reuben, his levity and his jocular talk. Though she came to the conclusion that he was thick-skinned and his future wife would not lick honey all her life, still she could not get him out of her mind. That night, retiring to her canopied bed across the room from her husband's, she tossed and turned sleeplessly. When she finally dozed off, her dreams both frightened and excited her. She got up in the morning full of desire, wanting to see Reuben as quickly as possible, wondering how she might arrange it, and worried that he might find some woman and leave the village.
Three days later Risha went to Krowica again even though the larder was still full. This time she caught the birds herself, bound their legs, and shoved them into the sack. On the estate was a black rooster with a voice clear as a bell, a bird famous for its size, its red comb, and its crowing. There was also a hen that laid an egg every day and always at the same spot. Risha now caught both of these creatures, murmuring, "Come, children, you will soon taste Reuben's knife," and as she said these words a tremor ran down her spine. She did not order a peasant to drive the britska but, harnessing the horse herself, went off alone. She found Reuben standing at the threshold of his house as if he were waiting impatiently for her, as in fact he was. When a male and a female lust after each other, their thoughts meet and each can foresee what the other will do.
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Reuben ushered Risha in with all the formality due a guest. He brought her a pitcher of water, offered her liqueur and a slice of honey cake. He did not go into the courtyard but un-trussed the fowl indoors. When he took out the black rooster, he exclaimed, "What a fine cavalier!"
"Don't worry. You will soon take care of him," said Risha.
"No one can escape my knife," Reuben assured her. He slaughtered the rooster on the spot. The bird did not exhale its spirit immediately but finally, like an eagle caught by a bullet, it slumped to the floor. Then Reuben set the knife down on the whetstone, turned, and came over to Risha. His face was pale with passion and the fire in his dark eyes frightened her. She felt as if he were about to slaughter her. He put his arms around her without a word and pressed her against his body.
"What are you doing? Have you lost your mind?" she asked.
"I like you," Reuben said hoarsely.
"Let me go. Somebody might come in," she warned.
"Nobody will come," Reuben assured her. He put up the chain on the door and pulled Risha into a windowless alcove.
Risha wrangled, pretending to defend herself, and ex-claimed, "Woe is me. I'm a married woman. And you-a pious man, a scholar. We'll roast in Gehenna for this..." But Reuben paid no attention. He forced Risha down on his bench-bed and she, thrice married, had never before felt desire as great as on that day. Though she called him murderer, rob-ber, highwayman, and reproached him for bringing shame to an honest woman, yet at the same time she kissed him, fondled him, and responded to his masculine whims. In their amorous play, she asked him to slaughter her. Taking her head, he bent it back and fiddled with his finger across her throat. When Risha finally arose, she said to Reuben: "You certainly mur-dered me that time."
"And you, me," he answered.
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Because Risha wanted Reuben all to herself and was afraid he might leave Krowica or marry some younger woman, she determined to find a way to have him live on the estate. She could not simply hire him to replace Reb Dan, for Reb Dan
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had been a relative whom Reb Falik would have had to provide for in any case. To keep a man just to slaughter a few chickens every week did not make sense and to propose it would arouse her husband's suspicions. After puzzling for a while, Risha found a solution.
She began to complain to her husband about how little profit the crops were bringing; how meagre the harvests were; if things went on this way, in a few years they would be ruined. Reb Falik tried to comfort his wife saying that God had not forsaken him hitherto and that one must have faith, to which Risha retorted that faith could not be eaten. She proposed that they stock the pastures with cattle and open a butcher shop in Laskev-that way there would be a double profit both from the dairy and from the meat sold at retail. Reb Falik op-posed the plan as impractical and beneath his dignity. He ar-gued that the butchers in Laskev would raise a commotion and that the community would never agree to him, Reb Falik, becoming a butcher. But Risha insisted. She went to Laskev, called a meeting of the community elders, and told them that she intended to open a butcher shop. Her meat would be sold at two cents a pound less than the meat in the other shops. The town was in an uproar. The rabbi warned her he would prohibit the meat from the estate. The butchers threatened to stab anyone who interfered with their livelihood. But Risha was not daunted. In the first place she had influence with the government, for the starosta of the neighborhood had re-ceived many fine gifts from her, often visited her estate and went hunting in her woods. Moreover, she soon found allies among the Laskev poor who could not afford to buy much meat at the usual high prices. Many took her side, coachmen, shoemakers, tailors, furriers, potters, and they announced that if the butchers did her any violence, they would retaliate by burning the butcher shops. Risha invited a mob of them to the estate, gave them bottles of homemade beer from her brewery, and got them to promise her their support. Soon afterwards she rented a store in Laskev and employed Wolf Bonder, a fearless man known as a horse-thief and brawler. Every other day, Wolf Bonder drove to the estate with his horse and buggy to cart meat to the city. Risha hired Reuben to do the slaughtering.
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For many months the new business lost money, the rabbi having proscribed Risha's meat. Reb Falik was ashamed to look the townspeople in the face, but Risha had the means and strength to wait for victory. Since her meat was cheap, the number of her customers increased steadily, and soon because of competition several butchers were forced to close their shops and of the two Laskev slaughterers, one lost his job. Risha was cursed by many.
The new business provided the cover Risha needed to con-ceal the sins she was committing on Reb Falik's estate. From the beginning it was her custom to be present when Reuben slaughtered. Often she helped him bind an ox or a cow. And her thirst to watch the cutting of throats and the shedding of blood soon became so mixed with carnal desire that she hardly knew where one began and the other ended. As soon as the business became profitable, Risha built a slaughtering shed and gave Reuben an apartment in the main house. She bought him fine clothes and he ate his meals at Reb Falik's table. Reuben grew sleeker and fatter. During the day he seldom slaughtered but wandered about in a silken robe, soft slippers on his feet, a skullcap on his head, watching the peasants working in the fields, the shepherds caring for the cattle. He enjoyed all the pleasures of the outdoors and, in the after-noons, often went swimming in the river. The aging Reb Falik retired carly. Late in the evening Reuben, accompanied by Risha, went to the shed where she stood next to him as he slaughtered and while the animal was throwing itself about in the anguish of its death throes she would discuss with him their next act of lust. Sometimes she gave herself to him imme-diately after the slaughtering. By then all the peasants were in their huts asleep except for one old man, half deaf and nearly blind, who aided them at the shed. Sometimes Reuben lay with her on a pile of straw in the shed, sometimes on the grass just outside, and the thought of the dead and dying creatures near them whetted their enjoyment. Reb Falik disliked Reuben. The new business was repulsive to him but he seldom said a word in opposition. He accepted the annoyance with humility, thinking that he would soon be dead anyway and what was the point of starting a quarrel? Occasionally it oc-curred to him that his wife was overly familiar with Reuben,
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but he pushed the suspicion out of his mind since he was by nature honest and righteous, a man who gave everyone the benefit of the doubt.
One transgression begets another. One day Satan, the father of all lust and cunning, tempted Risha to take a hand in the slaughtering. Reuben was alarmed when she first suggested this. True, he was an adulterer, but nevertheless he was also a believer as many sinners are. He argued that for their sins they would be whipped, but why should they lead other people into iniquity, causing them to eat non-kosher carcasses? No, God forbid he and Risha should do anything like that. To become a slaughterer it was necessary to study the Shulchan Aruch and the Commentaries. A slaughterer was responsible for any blemish on the knife, no matter how small, and for any sin one of his customers incurred by eating impure meat. But Risha was adamant. What difference did it make? she asked. They would both toss on the bed of needles anyhow. If one commit-ted sins, one should get as much enjoyment as possible out of them. Risha kept after Reuben constantly, alternating threats and bribes. She promised him new excitements, presents, money. She swore that if he would let her slaughter, immedi-ately upon Reb Falik's death she would marry him and sign over all her property so that he could redeem some part of his iniquity through acts of charity. Finally Reuben gave in. Risha took such pleasure in killing that before long she was doing all the slaughtering herself, with Reuben acting merely as her as-sistant. She began to cheat, to sell tallow for kosher fat, and she stopped extracting the forbidden sinews in the thighs of the cows. She began a price war with the other Laskev butch-ers until those who remained became her hired employees. She got the contract to supply meat to the Polish army barracks, and since the officers took bribes, and the soldiers received only the worst meat, she earned vast sums. Risha became so rich that even she did not know how large her fortune was. Her malice grew. Once she slaughtered a horse and sold it as kosher beef. She killed some pigs too, scalding them in boiling water like the pork butchers. She managed never to be caught. She got so much satisfaction from deceiving the community that this soon became as powerful a passion with her as lechery and cruelty.
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Like all those who devote themselves entirely to the pleas-ures of the flesh, Risha and Reuben grew prematurely old. Their bodies became so swollen they could barely meet. Their hearts floated in fat. Reuben took to drink. He lay all day long on his bed, and when he woke drank liquor from a carafe with a straw. Risha brought him refreshments and they passed their time in idle talk, chattering as do those who have sold their souls for the vanities of this world. They quarreled and kissed, teased and mocked, bemoaned the fact that time was passing and the grave coming nearer. Reb Falik was now sick most of the time but, though it often seemed his end was near, some-how his soul did not forsake his body. Risha toyed with ideas of death and even thought of poisoning Reb Falik. Another time, she said to Reuben: "Do you know, already I am sati-ated with life! If you want, slaughter me and marry a young woman."
After saying this, she transferred the straw from Reuben's lips to hers and sucked until the carafe was empty.
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There is a proverb: Heaven and earth have sworn together that no secret can remain undivulged. The sins of Reuben and Risha could not stay hidden forever. People began to murmur that the two lived too well together. They remarked how old and feeble Reb Falik had become, how much oftener he stayed in bed than on his feet, and they concluded that Reuben and Risha were having an affair. The butchers Risha had forced to close their businesses had been spreading all kinds of calumny about her ever since. Some of the more scholarly housewives found sinews in Risha's meat which, according to the Law, should have been removed. The Gentile butcher to whom Risha had been accustomed to sell the forbidden flanken com-plained that she had not sold him anything for months. With this evidence, the former butchers went in a body to the rabbi and community leaders and demanded an investigation of Risha's meat. But the council of elders was hesitant to start a quarrel with her. The rabbi quoted the Talmud to the effect that one who suspects the righteous deserves to be lashed, and added that, as long as there were no witnesses to any of Risha's
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transgression, it was wrong to shame her, for the one who shames his fellow man loses his portion in the world to come.
The butchers, thus rebuffed by the rabbi, decided to hire a spy and they chose a tough youth named Jechiel. This young man, a ruffian, set out from Laskev one night after dark, stole into the estate, managing to avoid the fierce dogs Risha kept, and took up his position behind the slaughtering shed. Putting his eye to a large crack, he saw Reuben and Risha inside and watched with astonishment as the old servant led in the hob-bled animals and Risha, using a rope, threw them one by one to the ground. When the old man left, Jechiel was amazed in the torchlight to see Risha catch up a long knife and begin to cut the throats of the cattle one after the other. The steaming blood gurgled and flowed. While the beasts were bleeding, Risha threw off all her clothes and stretched out naked on a pile of straw. Reuben came to her and they were so fat their bodies could barely join. They puffed and panted. Their wheezing mixed with the death-rattles of the animals made an unearthly noise; contorted shadows fell on the walls; the shed was saturated with the heat of blood. Jechiel was a hoodlum, but even he was terrified because only devils could behave like this. Afraid that fiends would seize him, he fled.
At dawn, Jechiel knocked on the rabbi's shutter. Stam-mering, he blurted out what he had witnessed. The rabbi roused the beadle and sent him with his wooden hammer to knock at the windows of the elders and summon them at once.
At first no one believed Jechiel could be telling the truth. They suspected he had been hired by the butchers to bear false wit-ness and they threatened him with beating and excommunica-tion. Jechiel, to prove he was not lying, ran to the Ark of the Holy Scroll which stood in the Judgment Chamber, opened the door, and before those present could stop him swore by the Scroll that his words were true.
His story threw the town into a turmoil. Women ran out into the streets, striking their heads with their fists, crying and wailing. According to the evidence, the townspeople had been eating non-kosher meat for years. The wealthy housewives car-ried their pottery into the market place and broke it into shards. Some of the sick and several pregnant women fainted. Many of the pious tore their lapels, strewed their heads with
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ashes, and sat down to mourn. A crowd formed and ran to the butcher shops to punish the men who sold Risha's meat. Re-fusing to listen to what the butchers said in their own defense, they beat up several of them, threw whatever carcasses were on hand outdoors, and overturned the butcher blocks. Soon voices arose suggesting they go to Reb Falik's estate and the mob began to arm itself with bludgeons, rope, and knives. The rabbi, fearing bloodshed, came out into the street to stop them, warning that punishment must wait until the sin had been proved intentional and a verdict had been passed. But the mob wouldn't listen. The rabbi decided to go with them, hoping to calm them down on the way. The elders followed. Women trailed after them, pinching their cheeks and weeping as if at a funeral. Schoolboys dashed alongside.
Wolf Bonder, to whom Risha had given gifts and whom she had always paid well to cart the meat from the estate to Laskev, remained loyal to her. Seeing how ugly the temper of the crowd was becoming, he went to his stable, saddled a fast horse, and galloped out toward the estate to warn Risha. As it happened, Reuben and Risha had stayed overnight in the shed and were still there. Hearing hoofbeats, they got up and came out and watched with surprise as Wolf Bonder rode up. He ex-plained what had happened and warned them of the mob on its way. He advised them to flee, unless they could prove their innocence; otherwise the angry men would surely tear them to pieces. He himself was afraid to stay any longer lest before he could get back the mob turn against him. Mounting his horse, he rode away at a gallop.
Reuben and Risha stood frozen with shock. Reuben's face turned a fiery red, then a deadly white. His hands trembled and he had to clutch at the door behind him to remain on his feet. Risha smiled anxiously and her face turned yellow as if she had jaundice, but it was Risha who moved first. Approaching her lover, she stared into his eyes. "So, my love," she said, "the end of a thief is the gallows."
"Let's run away." Reuben was shaking so violently that he could hardly get the words out.
But Risha answered that it was not possible. The estate had only six horses and all of them had been taken early that morning by peasants going to the forest for wood. A yoke of
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oxen would move so slowly that the rabble could overtake them. Besides, she, Risha, had no intention of abandoning her property and wandering like a beggar. Reuben implored her to flee with him, since life is more precious than all possessions, but Risha remained stubborn. She would not go. Finally they went into the main house where Risha rolled some linen up into a bundle for Reuben, gave him a roast chicken, a loaf of bread, and a pouch with some money. Standing outdoors, she watched as he set out, swaying and wobbling across the wooden bridge that led into the pine woods. Once in the for-est he would strike the path to the Lublin road. Several times Reuben turned about-face, muttered and waved his hand as if calling her, but Risha stood impassively. She had already learned he was a coward. He was only a hero against a weak chicken and a tethered ox.
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As soon as Reuben was out of sight, Risha moved towards the fields to call in the peasants. She told them to pick up axes, scythes, shovels, explained to them that a mob was on its way from Laskev, and promised each man a gulden and a pitcher of beer if he would help defend her. Risha herself seized a long knife in one hand and brandished a meat cleaver in the other. Soon the noise of the crowd could be heard in the distance and before long the mob was visible. Surrounded by her peas-ant guard, Risha mounted a hill at the entrance to the estate. When those who were coming saw peasants with axes and scythes, they slowed down. A few even tried to retreat. Risha's fierce dogs ran among them snarling, barking, growling.
The rabbi, seeing that the situation could lead only to bloodshed, demanded of his flock that they return home, but the tougher of the men refused to obey him. Risha called out taunting them: "Come on, let's see what you can do! I'll cut your heads off with this knife-the same knife I used on the horses and pigs I made you eat." When a man shouted that no one in Laskev would buy her meat anymore and that she would be excommunicated, Risha shouted back: "I don't need your money. I don't need your God either. I'll convert. Immediately!" And she began to scream in Polish, calling the
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Jews cursed Christ-killers and crossing herself as if she were al-ready a Gentile. Turning to one of the peasants beside her, she said: "What are you waiting for, Maciek? Run and summon the priest. I don't want to belong to this filthy sect anymore." The peasant went and the mob became silent. Everyone knew that converts soon became enemies of Israel and invented all kinds of accusations against their former brethren. They turned away and went home. The Jews were afraid to instigate the anger of the Christians.
Meanwhile Reb Falik sat in his study house and recited the Mishnah. Deaf and half-blind, he saw nothing and heard nothing. Suddenly Risha entered, knife in hand, screaming: "Go to your Jews. What do I need a synagogue here for?" When Reb Falik saw her with her head uncovered, a knife in her hand, her face contorted by abuse, he was seized by such anguish that he lost his tongue. In his prayer shawl and phy-lacteries, he rose to ask her what had happened, but his feet gave way and he collapsed to the floor dead. Risha ordered his body placed in an ox cart and she sent his corpse to the Jews in Laskev without even linen for a shroud. During the time the Laskev Burial Society cleansed and laid out Reb Falik's body, and while the burial was taking place and the rabbi speaking the eulogy, Risha prepared for her conversion. She sent men out to look for Reuben, for she wanted to persuade him to fol-low her example, but her lover had vanished.
Risha was now free to do as she pleased. After her conver-sion she reopened her shops and sold non-kosher meats to the Gentiles of Laskev and to the peasants who came in on market days. She no longer had to hide anything. She could slaughter openly and in whatever manner she pleased pigs, oxen, calves, sheep. She hired a Gentile slaughterer to replace Reuben and went hunting with him in the forest and shot deer, hares, rab-bits. But she no longer took the same pleasure in torturing creatures; slaughtering no longer incited her lust; and she got little satisfaction from lying with the pig butcher. Fishing in the river, sometimes when a fish dangled on her hook or danced in her net, a moment of joy came to her heart imbed-ded in fat and she would mutter: "Well, fish, you are worse off than I am. !"
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The truth was that she yearned for Reuben. She missed their lascivious talk, his scholarship, his dread of reincarnation, his terror of Gehenna. Now that Reb Falik was in his grave, she had no one to betray, to pity, to mock. She had bought a pew in the Christian church immediately upon conversion and for some months went every Sunday to listen to the priest's ser-mon. Going and coming, she had her driver take her past the synagogue. Teasing the Jews gave her some satisfaction for a while, but soon this too palled.
With time Risha became so lazy that she no longer went to the slaughtering shed. She left everything in the hands of the pork butcher and did not even care that he was stealing from her. Immediately upon getting up in the morning, she poured herself a glass of liqueur and crept on her heavy feet from room to room talking to herself. She would stop at a mirror and mutter: "Woe, woe, Risha. What has happened to you? If your saintly mother should rise from her grave and see you she would lie down again!" Some mornings she tried to im-prove her appearance but her clothes would not hang straight, her hair could not be untangled. Frequently she sang for hours in Yiddish and in Polish. Her voice was harsh and cracked and she invented the songs as she went along, repeating meaning-less phrases, uttering sounds that resembled the cackling of fowl, the grunting of pigs, the death-rattles of oxen. Falling onto her bed she hiccuped, belched, laughed, cried. At night in her dreams, phantoms tormented her: bulls gored her with their horns; pigs shoved their snouts into her face and bit her; roosters cut her flesh to ribbons with their spurs. Reb Falik ap-peared dressed in his shroud, covered with wounds, waving a bunch of palm leaves, screaming: "I cannot rest in my grave. You have defiled my house."
Then Risha, or Maria Pawlowska as she was now called, would start up in bed, her limbs numb, her body covered with a cold sweat. Reb Falik's ghost would vanish but she could still hear the rustle of the palm leaves, the echo of his outcry. Si-multaneously she would cross herself and repeat a Hebrew in-cantation learned in childhood from her mother. She would force her bare feet down to the floor and would begin to stum-ble through the dark from one room to another. She had
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thrown out all Reb Falik's books, had burned his Holy Scroll. The study house was now a shed for drying hides. But in the dining room there still remained the table on which Reb Falik had eaten his Sabbath meals, and from the ceiling hung the candelabra where his Sabbath candles had once burned. Some-times Risha remembered her first two husbands whom she had tortured with her wrath, her greed, her curses and shrewish tongue. She was far from repenting, but something inside her was mourning and filling her with bitterness. Opening a win-dow, she would look out into the midnight sky full of stars and cry out: "God, come and punish me! Come Satan! Come As-modeus! Show your might. Carry me to the burning desert behind the dark mountains!"
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One winter Laskev was terrified by a carnivorous animal lurking about at night and attacking people. Some who had seen the creature said it was a bear, others a wolf, others a de-mon. One woman, going outdoors to urinate, had her neck bitten. A yeshiva boy was chased through the streets. An eld-erly night-watchman had his face clawed. The women and children of Laskev were afraid to leave their houses after night-fall. Everywhere shutters were bolted tight. Many strange things were recounted about the beast: someone had heard it rave with a human voice; another had seen it rise on its hind legs and run. It had overturned a barrel of cabbage in a court-yard, had opened chicken coops, thrown out the dough set to rise in the wooden trough in the bakery, and it had defiled the butcher blocks in the kosher shops with excrement.
One dark night the butchers of Laskev gathered with axes and knives determined either to kill or capture the monster. Splitting up into small groups they waited, their eyes growing accustomed to the darkness. In the middle of the night there was a scream and running toward it they caught sight of the animal making for the outskirts of town. A man shouted that he had been bitten in the shoulder. Frightened, some of the men dropped back, but others continued to give chase. One of the hunters saw it and threw his axe. Apparently the animal was hit, for with a ghastly scream it wobbled and fell. A horrible
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howling filled the air. Then the beast began to curse in Polish and Yiddish and to wail in a high-pitched voice like a woman in labor. Convinced that they had wounded a she-devil, the men ran home.
All that night the animal groaned and babbled. It even dragged itself to a house and knocked at the shutters. Then it became silent and the dogs began to bark. When day dawned, the bolder people came out of their houses. They discovered to their amazement that the animal was Risha. She lay dead dressed in a skunk fur coat wet with blood. One felt boot was missing. The hatchet had buried itself in her back. The dogs had already partaken of her entrails. Nearby was the knife she had used to stab one of her pursuers. It was now clear that Risha had become a werewolf. Since the Jews refused to bury her in their cemetery and the Christians were unwilling to give her a plot in theirs, she was taken to the hill on the estate where she had fought off the mob, and a ditch was dug for her there. Her wealth was confiscated by the city.
Some years later a wandering stranger lodged in the poor-house of Laskev became sick. Before is death, he summoned the rabbi and the seven elders of the town and divulged to them that he was Reuben the slaughterer, with whom Risha had sinned. For years he had wandered from town to town, eating no meat, fasting Mondays and Thursdays, wearing a shirt of sack cloth, and repenting his abominations. He had come to Laskev to die because it was here his parents were buried. The rabbi recited the confession with him and Reuben revealed many details of the past which the townspeople had not known.
Risha's grave on the hill soon became covered with refuse. Yet long afterwards it remained customary for the Laskev schoolboys on the thirty-third day of Omer, when they went out carrying bows and arrows and a provision of hard-boiled eggs, to stop there. They danced on the hill and sang:
Risha slaughtered Black horses Now she's fallen To evil forces.
A pig for an ox Sold Risha the witch Now she's roasting In sulphur and pitch.
Before the children left, they spat on the grave and recited:
Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live A witch to live thou shalt not suffer Suffer a witch to live thou shalt not.
Translated by The Author and Elizabeth Pollet
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