The Complete Works of Isaac Babel Reprint Edition by Isaac Babel, Nathalie Babel, Peter Constantine (99 page)

[MADAME POPYATNIK bursts in with great excitement.]

MADAME POPYATNIK: Ben Zkharia is here! Rabbi . . . Ben Zkharia!

[The room fills with guests. Among them are DVOIRA, LYOVKA, BENYA,

KLASHA ZUBARYEVA, SENKA TOPUN, pomaded CART DRIVERS, waddling SHOPKEEPERS, and giggling PEASANT WOMEN.]

THICK-LEGGED YOUNG MAN: When money beckons, even the rabbi comes running. And here he is!

[ARYE-LEIB and BOBRINETS wheel in a large armchair

Almost hidden in its plush depths is BEN ZKHARIA’s shriveled little body.]

BEN ZKHARIA [Shrilly.]: Dawn has only sneezed, and in heaven the Lord is washing Himself with red water—

BOBRINETS [Laughs out loud,\ expecting an intricate answer.]: Why red, Rabbi?

BEN ZKHARIA: —and I am still lying on my back, like a cockroach—

BOBRINETS: Why on your back, Rabbi?

BEN ZKHARIA: Every morning God turns me on my back so I cannot pray. My prayers are getting on Gods nerves. . . .

[BOBRINETS roars with laughter;]

BEN ZKHARIA: The chickens haven’t gotten up yet, and Arye-Leib wakes me: Quick! Get over to the Kriks, Rabbi! They’re having a feast! You’ll get food, you’ll get drink. . . .

BENYA: You’ll get food, you 11 get drink, whatever your heart desires, Rabbi!

BEN ZKHARIA: Whatever my heart desires? You mean you’ll give away your horses too?

BENYA: I will give away my horses too!

BEN ZKHARIA: In that case, Jews, run to the Funeral Brotherhood and harness his horses to their hearse and take me to . . . where do you think?

BOBRINETS: Where to, Rabbi?

BEN ZKHARIA: To the Second Jewish Cemetery, you idiot!

BOBRINETS [Roars with laughter, snatches theyarmulke off the RABBI i head, and kisses his bald, pink pate.]: Oy, he’s a wild man!... Oy, he’s a clever man!

ARYE-LEIB [Introduces BENYA.]: That’s him, Rabbi, Mendel’s son, Ben Zion.

BEN ZKHARIA [Chews his lip.]: Ben Zion . . . son of Zion . . . [He is silent.] Nightingales are not fed with fables, son of Zion, nor women with wisdom. . . .

LYOVKA [In a deafening voice.]: Get to your chairs, you riffraff, get your backsides to some stools!

KLASHA [Shakes her head, smiles.]: Oy, hes a lively one!

BENYA [Throws his brother an indignant look.]: My dear friends, please be seated! Monsieur Bobrinets will sit next to the rabbi.

BEN ZKHARIA [Squirms in his armchair;]: Why should I sit next to this Jew who’s as long as our exile from the Holy Land has been? [He points at KLASHA.] Let the National Bank sit next to me. . . .

BOBRINETS [Anticipating a new witticism.]: Why National Bank?

BEN ZKHARIA: Shes better than the National Bank. Make a nice deposit in her, and shell yield such a percentage that wheat will wilt with envy. Make a bad deposit in her, and all her guts will creak in order to change your broken-down kopeck into a golden one! She’s better than a bank, better than a bank!

BOBRINETS [Raises his finger.]: You must listen to his words!

BEN ZKHARIA: But where is our Star of Israel? Where is the master of this house? Where is Rabbi Mendel Krik?

LYOVKA: He is sick today.

BENYA: No, he is feeling well. . . . Nikifor!

[NIKIFOR appears in the doorway in his shabby peasant coat.]

BENYA: Have Papa and his wife come down.

[Silence.]

NIKIFOR [In a desperate voice.]: Ladies and gentlemen! . . .

BENYA [Very slowly.]: Have Papa come down.

ARYE-LEIB: Benya, we Jews don’t cover our fathers with shame in front of everyone.

LYOVKA: Rabbi, no man has ever tortured a wild boar the way Benya is torturing Papa.

[WEINER babbles indignantly, splattering spit!]

BENYA [Bends down to MADAME WEINER.]: What is he saying?

MADAME WEINER: He is saying—“Shame and disgrace!”

ARYE-LEIB: Jews dont do such things, Benya!

KLASHA: You raise sons and—

BENYA: Arye-Leib, old man, old matchmaker, shamas of the Carters’ Synagogue and funeral cantor, why don’t you tell me how things should be done properly? [He bangs his fist down on the table, and speaks with a pause after each word\ accompanied by a thump ofhisfist.] Have Papa come down!

[NIKIFOR disappears. BENYA is standing in the middle of the room, his head hanging, his legs far apart. The blood is slowly rising to his head.

Utter stillness. Only BEN ZKHARIAi senseless muttering breaks the agonizing silence.]

BEN ZKHARIA: God bathes in red water in heaven. [He falls silent, squirms in his armchair;] Why red, why not white? Because red is merrier than white. . . .

[The two halves of the side door creak, groan, and then open. Allfaces turn in that direction. MENDEL appears, his face bruised and powdered.

He is wearing a new suit. With him is NEKHAMA, wearing a bonnet and a heavy velvet dress.]

BENYA: My friends, sitting here in my house! Permit me to raise this glass to my father, the hardworking Mendel Krik, and his wife, Nekhama Borisovna, who have walked thirty-five years along the road of life together. Dear friends! We know, we know full well, that no one has paved this road with cement, no one has placed benches along this long road! And then there’s all the hordes of people who come running down that road, who haven’t made it any easier, they’ve made it harder! My friends, sitting here in my house! What I ask is that you don’t water the wine in your glasses, or the wine in your hearts!

[WEINER babbles rapturously.]

BENYA: What is he saying?

MADAME WEINER: He is saying—“Hurrah!”

BENYA [Without looking at anyone.]: Teach me, Arye-Leib.... [Hepours wine for his mother andfather.] Our guests are honoring you, Papa. Say a word or two!

MENDEL [Looks around, and very quietly says.]: To your health. . . .

BENYA: What Papa is trying to say is that he’s donating a hundred rubles.

CATTLE DEALER: And then they talk about Jews. . . .

BENYA: Papa is donating five hundred! To whom should he donate, Rabbi?

BEN ZKHARIA: To whom? Jews! A girls milk should not be left to curdle! He must donate the money to brides with no dowries!

BOBRINETS [Bursts out laughing.]: Oy, hes a wild man! . . . Oy, hes a clever man!

MADAME POPYATNIK: Do we want a flourish from the band now?

BENYA: Yes, we do!

[A dolefulflourish resounds through the room. A row of guests with glasses in their hands files toward MENDEL and NEKHAMA.]

KLASHA ZUBARYEVA: To your health, Grandpa!

SENKA TOPUN: A wagonload of fun, Papa! A hundred thousand in pocket money!

BENYA [Without looking at anyone.]: Teach me, Arye-Leib!

BOBRINETS: Mendel, may God give me a son like your son!

LYOVKA [Calls out across the table.]: Papa! Dont be angry! Papa, you’ve had your fun and games. . . .

CATTLE DEALER: And then they talk about Jews! I know twice as much about Jews as you do!

PYATIRUBEL [Makes his way across to BENYA and tries to kiss him.]: You’ll buy us and you’ll sell us, you devil, you, and then tie us in a knot!

[Loud sobbing is heard behind BENYA. Tears are flowing down ARYE-LEIB s cheeks and into his beard. He shudders, and kisses BENYA s shoulder;]

ARYE-LEIB: Fifty years, Benchik! Fifty years together with your father! [He shouts hysterically.] He was a good father to you, Benya!

WEINER [Suddenly attains the gift of speech.]: Take him away!

MADAME WEINER: Well, 111 be damned!

BOYARSKY: Arye-Leib! You’re mistaken, this is a time for laughter!

WEINER: Take him away!

ARYE-LEIB [Sobs.]: You had a good father, Benya. . . .

[MENDEL turns ashen under his powder. He holds out a new handkerchief to ARYE-LEIB, who uses it to wipe away his tears.

ARYE-LEIB is laughing and crying]

BOBRINETS: You blockhead, you’re not in your cemetery now!

PYATIRUBEL: You can search the whole world over, you’ll never find a second Benchik! I’ll wager anything. . . .

BENYA: Dear friends, be seated!

LYOVKA: Get your backsides to some stools, you riffraff!

[The thunder of chairs being moved. They seat MENDEL between the RABBI and KLASHA ZUBARYEVA.]

BEN ZKHARIA: Jews!

PYATIRUBEL: Quiet, now!

BEN ZKHARIA: The old fool Ben Zkharia wants to say a word. . . .

[LYOVKA slumps forward onto the table, snorting with contempt, but BENYA shakes him., and he becomes quiet.]

BEN ZKHARIA: Jews! Day is day, and night is night. Day drenches us with the sweat of our toil, but night offers its fans of divine coolness. Joshua, son of Nun, who stopped the sun, was nothing but a crazed fool! Jesus of Nazareth, who stole the sun, was an evil madman. And here is Mendel Krik, a member of our synagogue, who has turned out to be no cleverer than Joshua, son of Nun. He wanted to warm himself in the sun all his life, all his life he wanted to stand where he stood at midday. But God has policemen on every street, and Mendel Krik had sons in his house. The policemen come and see to it that things are as they should be. Day is day, and

night is night. Jews! Everything is as it should be! Lets down a glass of vodka!

LYOVKA: Let’s down a glass of vodka!

[The shrill sound offlutes, the clinking of glasses, incoherent shouts, thunderous laughter.]

A PLAY IN EIGHT ACTS

Babel's secondplay, Maria, is set during the Russian Civil War (1918-1920). Class distinctions had abruptly vanished, and aristocrats, smugglers, andJewish mobsters were thrown together on thefringes of Soviet society.

Although it was felt that the play was too controversial to be performed in the Soviet Union, it was published in 1935 both as a book fGoslitizdaty), and in the magazine Teatr i dramaturgia.

CHARACTERS

Nikolai Vasilevich Mukovnin — a former aristocrat and quartermaster general in the Czars army.

Ludmila Nikolayevna Mukovnina — his daughter.

Katerina Vyacheslavovna Felsen (Katya).

Isaac Markovich Dimshits.

Sergei Hilarionovich Golitsyn — a former prince.

Nefedovna — the Mukovnins’ nanny.

Evstignevich— a disabled war veteran.

Bishonkov— a disabled war veteran.

Filip — a disabled war veteran.

Viskovsky— a former captain of the guards.

Yasha Kravchenko.

Madame Dora.

A police inspector.

Kalmikova— a maid in the hotel at Nevsky Prospekt, 86.

Agasha— a female janitor.

Andrei— a floor polisher.

Kuzma — a floor polisher.

Sushkin.

Safonov— a worker.

Elena — his wife.

Nyusha.

A policeman.

A drunk man — at the police station.

A Red Army fighter—just in from the front.

The action takes place in Petrograd during the first years of the Revolution.

Scene One

A hotel on the Nevsky Propekt. ISAAC MARKOVICH DIMSHITS i hotel room: dirty and piled high with sacks, boxes, furniture. Two crippled war veterans, BISHONKOV and EVSTIGNEVICH, are unwrapping packets of food. EVSTIGNEVICH, a stout man with a large red face, has had both legs amputated above the knee. BISHONKOV has an empty, pinned-up sleeve. Both veterans are wearing medals and a St. George Cross on their chests. DIMSHITS is calculating profits on an abacus.

EVSTIGNEVICH: They hassled us the whole way. Back when Zanberg was running the checkpoint at Viritsa
¹
he used to let us do our thing, but they sent him packing.

BISHONKOV: Were being hassled too much, Isaac Markovich. DIMSHITS: Is Korolev still there?

EVSTIGNEVICH: What d’you mean, still there? They finished him off. No wonder were being hassled, what with all the checkpoint guards being new.

BISHONKOV: Getting our hands on produce is getting tougher, Isaac Markovich. The moment you get to know a checkpoint guard, he gets replaced by a new one. If they just snatched your stuff that would be one thing, but you never know when they re going to hold a gun to your head.

EVSTIGNEVICH: And you cant keep up with them. Every day they come up with new tricks. Last night we pulled in at Tsarskoye Selo Station^ and they started shooting. We say, “Hey! What’s going on?” We thought the government was being overthrown again, and that they were overthrowing it by shooting everyone in sight.

BISHONKOV: Today they grabbed a lot of produce from us! For the street kids, they said. Theres a whole colony of them at Tsarskoye Selo.

EVSTIGNEVICH: Yeah, right! Kids with beards on their faces!

BISHONKOV: If a mans hungry, he’ll grab whatever food he can for himself. Yes, if he’s hungry, for himselfl

DIMSHITS: Where’s Filip? I’ve been worried about him—why did you drop him and run?

BISHONKOV: We didn’t drop him and run, Isaac Markovich. He got cold feet.

EVSTIGNEVICH: Someone’s been talking to him.

BISHONKOV: It’s tyranny, that’s what it is!

EVSTIGNEVICH: Well, take Filip himself: he’s a big, strong man, you notice him right away, but he’s got no guts, his insides are weak. We drive up to the station—they’re shooting, everyone’s screaming, falling—I tell him, “Filip,” I tell him, “we’ll get over to Zagorodny Boulevard with no hassle—all the guards are friends!” But Filip’s falling apart right before my eyes. “I’m afraid to go,” he tells me. “Well, if you’re afraid,” I tell him, “then stay right where you are! Vodka smuggling is no big deal, you’ll just get a kick in the pants, so what are you worried about? All you’ve got is one load of alcohol.” But he was already lying there flat on his belly. A strong man, strong as a horse, but no guts.

BISHONKOV: We’re all hoping he’ll turn up. We haven’t seen hide nor hair of him.

DIMSHITS: How much did you pay for the sausage?

BISHONKOV: We got sausage for eighteen thousand, Isaac Markovich, and it tastes awful. Nowadays you can be in Petrograd or out in Vitebsk, you get sausage from the same factory.

EVSTIGNEVICH [Opens a secret cubbyhole in the wall and stashes the food there.]: They’re ruining Russia!

DIMSHITS: How much was the grain?

BISHONKOV: The grain was nine thousand. There’s nothing you can do about it. They’re not interested in selling. They’re just waiting for you to open your mouth. I can’t tell you how greedy these dealers have gotten.