The B'nai B'rith magazine · 1927-06-01 · 9 (6.1927) · p. Seite 390

390 B'NAI B'RITH MAGAZINE in this book. Asch is now somberlyrealistic. "Motke Ganoff" is a psychological study of a demi-hero of the underworld. The author begins his story by telling us how Motke's parents had married. His mother, the red Zlatke, a servant, had wed the lazy Leib, the shoemaker, after she had blinded him because he had refused to marry her. Months before Motke made his appearance in the world, his mother had sold the milk which was to be his nourishment, to another child that was to be born about the same time. On the very first day of his life Motke began his hostilities with the world. He kept the numerous inhabitants of the cellar awake by his cries for food. For Motke was not to be pacified by a sweetened, wet rag. And as soon as he could crawl out of the basement, he began to earn his own living. At two he was the terror of the women and children of the alley in which he lived. At nine he already was an outcast in the community. His friends were homeless dogs and a band of thieves and village desperadoes. And at sixteen, Motke was a thief, a murderer, and a seducer—a complete criminal. He had taken full revenge upon the world which had made him an outcast. His life was as base as the world he lived in. But inwardly Motke remained a dreamer and a romanticist. His experiences had not been able to destroy, nor even to tarnish, his finer nature. Motke, living in the midst of sin and ugliness, dreamed of marrying the pure, innocent Chanale, of leading an honest, small-town married life, of going to synagogue, and of celebrating the Sabbath and holidays in the manner of a good Orthodox Jew. Motke's love for Chanale was pure. In his merciless process of self-purification, Motke exchanged a life of comparative wealth and comfort for a poor and hard though honest one. He went even further. He longed to be honest with himself and others. So he told Chanale of the crimes he had committed. But Chanale neither loved nor understood Motke. She exposed him to the police. And Motke, in accordance with his newly-adopted code, refused to be saved by Maria, a former mistress. He would not sully the new Motke that had so miraculously been reborn. He could not understand how Chanale could do that which his companions of the underworld would not do. So Motke lost his one vision of beauty and hope, and went willingly to his doom. Were it not for the art, for the talent of Sholom Asch, "Motke Ganoff" would be a mere melodrama, containing little of story value and much that is uncouth. But from the pen of Sholom Asch, the novel has beauty and significance. Three years after the publication of "Motke Ganoff" Asch wrote an historical novel, "Kiddush Ha-Shem," which brought him new laurels. In spirit it is more closely related to "Die Shtedtle" than to his other works. "Kiddush Ha-Shem" is an epic of 1648 dealing with Chmielniecki and his massacres of the Polish Jews. It is a story of pogroms, of suffering and of brutality. But Asch has woven these elements into a romantic prose-poem in which little of the horror of the story is felt. The dominant tones of the novel are of spirituality, of heroism, and peacefulness. The title, "Kiddush Ha-Shem," "Sanctifying the Holy Name," is indicative not only of spirit of the story, but also of the attitude of the author in his treatment of the tragic theme. Briefly, "Kiddush Ha-Shem" deals with the life of Mendele, an inn-keeper. Schlomele, his son; Deborah, Schlomele's wife; a mysterious little man who calls himself the Schneiderel but is really a lamedwownik, one of the supposedly thirty-six saints whose righteousness makes possible the continuation of the world in spite of its wickedness; and of the various people with whom these four come in contact. Living alone with his family in a God-forsaken village of the steppes, Mendele pines for the religious and social life of a Jewish community. Schlomele is growing up and it is high time for him to learn the Torah. But all Mendele knows is a few lines from Exodus which he continuously teaches his son. Suddenly out of the loneliness that is the steppes, there comes the little schneiderel who offers to become Schlomele's tutor. Inspired by the stranger, Mendele goes to the lord of the county and begs "Die Shtedtle" for permission to build a synagogue and for a piece of land which might serve as a cemetery. Under exceedingly humiliating circumstances, Mendele is allowed to carry out his project. And soon a little Jewish village grows up about him. The Jews live quite happily in spite of the danger of Cossack massacres and the changeable moods of their lords. Schlomele advances in the study of the law, and, at the mature age of thirteen, marries Deborah, a young lady of ten. Later, he is sent to a large city across the steppes to enter a Yeshiva. Happy, peaceful years pass. Schlomele, now a young man, leaves the Yeshiva, greatly learned in the Law. In the description of Schlomele's return to his wife and home, Asch gives us another of his beautifully romantic love scenes. But deep, threatening shadows begin to fall upon the little village. It learns of a powerful Cossack rebel, Chmielniecki, and of the disasters that follow in his wake. And suddenly the inhabitants of the happy, flourishing village are compelled to leave all they had lovingly built, and run for safety. The refugees flee from village to village pursued by the Cossacks. In the confusion, Mendele and his son are forced to separate, never to meet again. Mendele and his wife die as they had lived, proudly, heroically.. The fate of the beautiful Deborah is colorful and romantic. Dressed as an old woman and under the care of the faithful, Cossack servant, Marussia, she is discovered by a group of Cossacks, one of