You can imagine the wretched state I’m in. I’m so homesick I could weep. I curse my luck a hundred times a day. If only I had broken a leg instead of coming to Odessa, where a man is worth nothing. Why, you can drop dead in the street and no one will stop to look at you! When I think of the brokers who f locked around me, begged me to throw them a bone …and now they don’t even know me! The man they called the Rothschild of Kasrilevke has become a big joke. I’m told I know nothing about futures. Not everyone understands Londons, they say. But where were all the big experts then? I’d get more sympathy if I were a corpse. In fact, I’d be better-off if I were one. And to make matters worse, that blasted Gambetta keeps blabbering about politics. “Ha!” he says. “Didn’t I tell you to buy short?” “What good are your shorts,” I say, “when there’s not a London in sight?” But he only laughs and says: “Whose fault is that? You have to know futures. You can’t buy and sell Londons likes potatoes …” I tell you, my dearest wife, I’ve had my fill of Odessa and its market and its Fanconi’s and its petty thieves! All I want is to get out of here. And since I’m in a hurry, I’ll be brief. God willing, I’ll write more in my next letter. Meanwhile, may He grant you health and success. My fondest greetings to all the children and to your parents.
Your husband,
Menakhem-Mendl
P.S. It’s not the custom in Odessa to go to a neighbor, friend, or relative when you need help as it is in Kasrilevke. That isn’t because people are too proud to ask but because they know what the answer will be. Zilch! What, then, is a man to do? He goes to a pawnshop, where he can get all the money he wants as long as he has something to hock. It can be gold, silver, bronze, clothing, a samovar, a stool, even a cow — anything that’s worth cash. The problem is that it’s valued very low, at half its real worth. And the pawnbroker makes up for it by charging such high interest that you’re left with nothing. Every two weeks the unredeemed items are auctioned off at bargain prices and he makes a nice pile. If I had money, I’d open a pawnshop myself and recoup my losses. I might even come out ahead — but that’s easier said than done. There’s no point being born poor in this world and if you are, you might as well not have been. Tell me about yourself, and what the children are doing, and give my fondest greetings to your parents.
Yours etc.
To my dear, learned, & illustrious husband Menakhem-Mendl, may your light shine!
First, we’re all well, thank God. I hope to hear no worse from you.
Second, just look at what you’ve done, you fool! What devil brought you to Odessa? What made your nose twitch so? Creamed ice his lordship craved! Lumdums! Likrish-water! Roast pheasant! If you knew you’d been Lumdummed, you big dummy, why didn’t you settle for a percentage like a smart businessman? Where was everybody? Why didn’t you run to the rabbi? What, in God’s name, are futures-shmutures? You bought merchandise — where is it? You’ve made one holy mess of things, you have! I knew all along no good would come of your Odessa.
I’m telling you, Mendl, leave now. Hang Odessa and its Lumdums, a plague on them both! Run for your life, Mendl! “When the walls shake, don’t wait for the quake,” my mother says…. But of course nothing I say means a thing to his lordship. I’m only that nobody Sheyne-Sheyndl when I should be Blume-Zlate. Was my mother the smart one! She warned me never to let a husband go to town by himself. “Keep your thumb on his neck,” she said. But what was I to do? I’m not a pushy one like Blume-Zlate. I can’t rub a man’s nose in the dirt, I simply can’t! If only you had her for a wife instead of me, you’d know what the fear of God was …
And as for wanting to die, you big genius, you’re even more of a moron than I thought. It’s not up to us when to live and when to die. Since when does losing a dowry mean jumping off the roof? You’re a dunce to think it’s written in the stars that Menakhem-Mendl has to be rich. Is it a fight with God you want to pick? You can see He had other plans for you, so stop making such a fuss. Things could be worse. You might have been robbed in the forest or made to spend all your money on medicines for some blamed illness. Don’t carry on like an old woman, Mendl. Put your trust in the Almighty and come on home! To the children you’ll still be an honored guest.
I’m sending you a few rubles for your carfare. Don’t go spending them on old junk or auctions. Stay away from all that. I beg you to say good-bye to your Odessa as soon as you get this letter with the money. May it catch fire the moment you leave and burn to ashes! I am, from the bottom of my heart,
Your truly faithful wife,
Stocks & Bonds: The Yehupetz Exchange
To my wise, esteemed, & virtuous wife Sheyne-Sheyndl, may you have a long life!
Firstly, rest assured that I am, thank God, in the best of health. God grant that we hear from each other only good and pleasing news, amen.
Secondly, I have left Odessa for Yehupetz (a fine town, I declare) and am no longer dealing in perishables — that is, in Londons. I am at present, praise God, a bonified investor in stocks & bonds. But what brought me, you may ask, to Yehupetz? That, my dear wife, is a long story that I’ll tell you once I ask your forgiveness for not writing. I simply had no news. And besides, I kept thinking I would soon be on my way home. But although God knows I hankered to be there, it seems I was fated for Yehupetz. I swear, my dearest, I was already in the coach for Kasrilevke when who sits next to me but a Yehupetz-bound Odessa investor. What takes him to Yehupetz, I ask. Stocks & bonds, he says. What kind of line is that, I ask. Well, he says, it’s nothing like Londons. With Londons you’re at the mercy of Berlin and Bismarck and the Queen of England. In stocks & bonds it’s Warsaw and Petersburg. And not only that, Londons are as airy as a dream, while stocks & bonds are solid items.
You should have heard that Jew praise Yehupetz and its investors to the skies! Why, they’re straight as an arrow, he says; they’re the very soul of honor; he wouldn’t swap one of them for ten Odessa slickers. The fellow made me so curious that I thought, seeing as I’m passing through Fastov, why not detour to Yehupetz and see the market? And wouldn’t you know, the day I arrived it had sunk to such depths that stocks were going for a song with nary a kopeck up front. I decided to give it a try. What was there to lose? If the breaks went my way, I might earn some pocket money for the rest of my trip. And don’t think I didn’t! The market rose, I sold at a nice profit, reinvested my earnings, backed some more winners, and wound up with several hundred rubles in cash. At which point I thought: why pay someone a commission to sell me shares when I can be that someone myself? So off I went to an office in Petersburg and put together a portfoliage of every stock you can think of: Putivil, and Transport, and Volga, and Maltzev, and still more that’s bound to go up. Praise God, I’m growing all the time. But since I’m in a hurry, I’ll be brief. God willing, I’ll write more in my next letter. Meanwhile, may He grant you health and success. My fondest greetings to the children and your parents,