The Jew

by Józef Ignacy Kraszewski

One man in particular in this quarter he knew well. A certain Rébé Schmul, a petty merchant who had been on the verge of bankruptcy when Jacob had set him once more on his feet. His back loaded with old clothes, he walked in the cold or the heat crying in the streets, "Hendel! Hendel!" ("Old clothes! old clothes!") Nothing escaped his glance or his hearing. He heard the calls from the garrets, and introduced himself into the courts at the risk of being harshly treated. It was a laborious business, and often scarcely sufficed to sustain existence. At the most it permitted him to buy a little fish and a morsel of white bread for the Sabbath.

Rébé Schmul and his wife were growing old; they had five daughters, two of whom were married, while three remained at home. In all, five mouths to feed. To do this it was necessary that each day, in all seasons, the pedler should tramp from early morning until nightfall. He must also be careful not to make a bad bargain in buying old clothes, which often appeared so well that a hole would pass unperceived. There lies the danger of the business, and Schmul, although experienced, had been taken in more than once. Tall and thin, he did not look his age, for, as he said, he had no time to think of it. In this business, which he had followed for more than thirty years, he had become a keen observer of men; and from this study was born in his soul not contempt, but compassion, for his fellow-creatures. Although he was very poor, he often found some one more unfortunate, who drew from him the last sou in his pocket in charity. Besides this sensibility, he was distinguished by a jovial humour. His natural gayety served him well in trading. A smile always attracts, and he by his bright ways encouraged men who were obliged to sell their best garments, and softened the bitterness of the sacrifice. Schmul always had a joke to tell, and a smile on his lips, when he left home in the early morning or when he returned weary and footsore at night. He treated his sick wife with pleasantry; by pleasantry he consoled his daughters in their chagrins; and lastly he fortified himself thereby, when he felt that a sigh was likely to escape his breast.

No one celebrated with more enjoyment the feast of the Sabbath than did Schmul, in his narrow and crowded lodging, by the light of a tallow candle. His business did not prosper, although he worked so hard. This was a disappointment to him, for he had dreamed of enlarging his stock by the addition of blacking and matches; but circumstances had not as yet permitted the realization of his hopes. Then he bought tickets in the lottery, and each time hoped to gain the grand prize. In vain did his wife beg him to renounce this delusion, and use the money in buying the necessaries of life for his family. When she had scolded him well, his only reply was that he must not shut his door against the good God.

Schmul lodged with his family on the third floor of a large house inhabited by many other Jewish families, all equally poor. This building, it is needless to say, did not shine with neatness. It was constructed in a rectangle with a narrow front, and opened upon a court. On each story a wooden gallery served for the workroom of the household. Here they washed and dried the linen. Here they split the wood, and cooked the food, and dressed the children. What did they not do here? Old clothes of all kinds were stretched on ropes, and the odours of the cooking, the steam from many wash-boilers, the waters from which ran through the court, produced a perfume which the lodgers endured from force of habit only. The inhabitants were like one family, many of whom had been born and were destined to die in this receptacle of misery.

Schmul occupied three dark rooms, where the air and the light came only from the court. You can imagine what air and what light! Both had to filter through the wet clothes and the rags which hung on the ropes stretched from one gallery to another.

One of these rooms served for a parlour, and possessed a rickety sofa and two old arm-chairs. The other apartment was the bedroom for the old couple; the third, the chamber of the three girls. It was here that the Schmul girls cleaned, patched, and mended the old clothes. A memorable event happened here. The father loved to tell of it as a proof of the protection of Providence.

Ten years before, the pedler's position was desperate. He had been so unfortunate as to buy some clothes that proved to be stolen. He was obliged to give back the goods, beside paying a large fine. To raise the money for this he had appealed to several friends in vain. Seeing no way out of his embarrassment, he had gone out and had succeeded in selling an old cloak for a few florins. He had just returned home when a soldier came and wished to sell him an old velvet waistcoat. He refused to buy it; but the man insisted, and seizing him by the arm, made such a noise that Schmul gave him a small sum for the garment. He soon perceived that he had made a poor purchase, for it was nearly worthless. He gave it to one of his girls to patch, who presently uttered a great cry of joy, for under each button she had found a piece of gold, the total of which was sufficient to pay the fine.

The waistcoat contained also a paper written over closely, but the writing was almost effaced and indecipherable.

It was not possible to return the garment to its owner, for the soldier had evidently stolen it. Nevertheless, Schmul did not believe it right to appropriate a sum which seemed to have been sent from Heaven; he considered himself the depositary, and distributed the whole in small sums to political prisoners. This act describes the man. Unfortunate though he was, he paid his debt to an unknown. He often showed pieces of the waistcoat when he had occasion to relate the story, and returned thanks to Providence, for he was very pious.

He always left home early in the morning and did not return until dark. He carried an old umbrella, formerly blue, but become by long usage an indefinable colour. It was less to shield himself than to shelter his merchandise from the rain, the snow, and the sun. His breakfast was invariably composed of a raw onion or a smoked herring, with a morsel of bread and a small glass of brandy. In the evening he loved to find some hot dish awaiting him, and seated at the table he related the most amusing incidents of the day, to which his family listened attentively. Then came the prayer before going to bed.