Sholom Asch was born and brought up in a little town in Poland, Kuttnow, near Lodz. His father was a merchant on a small scale. He bought sheep and oxen from the peasants and shipped them to be marketed in Lodz, in Germany, in France. He rode about the country and sometimes took Sholom with him, whom he loved especially because he studied so well. Sholom liked the sheep and the cattle, and he loved the melancholy Polish landscape—mystic, fearful.
His father was a healthy, normal, honorable Jew; not fanatical but deeply religious. He was philosophic toward life, he cared nothing for money and was content without it. His mother, on the other hand, was nervous and worldly. She was dependent on the externals of life and to her no money was misery. There was a big house with much food, many new clothes, much hospitality, and many big brothers and sisters; something like eleven children. The ceremonies of the Jewish faith were observed beautifully, the holidays kept happily. There was substance and spirit.
AND Sholom absorbed this atmosphere of the old religious rites, and the paganism of the cattle and nature, and spoke little. When he was six he was sent to the Jewish school. This was in session from eight in the morning until five in the evening. He and the other children used to watch the sun shine on certain spots and know the time. How they waited for the moment of freedom, little knowing how well one of their number was to picture for the world each intimate emotion and thought of their imprisoned souls.
One day a peasant came to his house and Sholom went with him on his wagon. That was a wonderful day; he played hookey. The next day the rabbi, who believed in corporal punishment, expressed his views on the matter of absence.
Asch was extremely clever at learning the Talmud and the old history and philosophy of the Jews. He learned to reason from the Talmud and to-day he says, "Art is logic. There must be an 'Urkraft' (elemental strength) behind a man's work." And if there is one outstanding characteristic of Asch's work, it is this elemental, this passionately strong and elemental vein.
Max Reinhardt, whom Asch calls "Ein Dichter im Theater," loves Asch dearly. In his Deutsches Theater, the most artistic and best equipped theatre in the world, he produced Asch's God of Vengeance. This was a marked success and is still a most popular play in Germany, Russia, and in the Yiddish theatres of New York. Asch was only twenty-four years at this time. From this play he made much money and a whole village was made happy an entire summer.
Since then his income from his writings has increased steadily. Much of his work is now translated into Russian and German, but as yet not into English. The income from his translations far exceeds that from his Yiddish publications, and he is able to support his wife and four children in ease and comfort. Although he has been to America a few times during the last six years, it is only several months ago that his wife and children arrived from Poland and he settled here permanently.
AN important happening in the history of Jewish literature occurred in the beginning of April. Perez, the intellectual father of the new movement, died. Asch and Perez were deep friends. Of all living writers Perez has had most influence on Asch, both as writer and as man. When Asch brought him his first story, Perez gave him a volume of his poems. He said of Asch, "A bird is breaking through the shell—who knows, is it an eagle or a crow?" It proved to be an eagle. Perez was a revolutionist, a poet, a dramatist, the defender of the weak, the inspiration of the talented. A little story of his, "Bonchi the Silent," about a Jewish workingman who never complained and who took all his misfortunes as a matter of course, whose desires and hopes were so thoroughly crushed out of him that on reaching Heaven and being asked by God to request what he desired most, he said, "I want a piece of white bread every Friday"—that story, more than any one influence, caused the formation of the "Bund of the Russian Revolution." It made the intelligenzia of Russia feel that it was their duty to teach the workingman to demand the earth.