Letter to Judah Leib Gordon

Letter 5

Kovno, Thursday, 20 Heshvan 5629 [5 November 1868]

His Honor, the Great Sage and Sweet Singer of Israel,

Judah Leib Gordon, greetings!

My dear esteemed gentleman! While I was still in Suwalki, the city where my parents resided, your three letters, which you hastened to bring to me and to my husband accompanied by your precious compositions Shire Yehudah, reached me, and also my poor translation has been returned to me with its head covered in mourning, and in shame, for, poor woman that I am, I have borne the sin of my husband; and when I returned home a few days ago, my primary obligation was to thank you for all the benefits you have conferred on me, and, jointly with my husband, to seek your pardon for his having angered you in his haste, and thereby triggered the rage that was directed at us regardless of his lack of intent to cause offense. However, sir, I swear by my life that there is no end to my sadness and sorrow over this affair, and my heart is moaning within me because this incident has set up a partition wall blocking our close mutual friendship, which, to my joy and pride, had been formed so recently; and I will not conceal from you that anguish is also intermingled with my distress, and that my heart cries out with regret for the sake of my translation, for had we not angered you and embittered your spirit, you might well have looked upon the poor woman that I am with a pitiful eye, obliterating from her every fault and defect in love and mercy, in accordance with your generous disposition, and you might have responded to me with generosity, to instruct me, and to teach me what I should select and what I should reject. And I wait upon your word, and the ordinances of your mouth are to me as the prophecy of a seer; and why, then, should I conceal this from you, my dear sir? I admit, and am not ashamed to say so, that as a result of your kind words, with which you initially paid honor to me, the hope was engendered within me that you would do even more for me, and that you would proceed forth, as a defending angel, at the opening page of my work, to advise our nation of its pleasing quality and to honor me in the public domain; for I have read and reiterated your original words seven times each day, that the translation is exceptionally good, and that the linguistic style is simple and beautiful, and easy to understand. And these fine words of yours had emboldened me to impose upon you the burden of composing an all-encompassing review of my work, and I was no longer afraid of a harsh verdict. But now, I have made myself heir only to a false hope. Perhaps, over a period of time—to my sorrow—you have withdrawn from your close relationship, which I have valued so highly, and thus have not passed the entire translation under your reviewer’s rod, and have merely returned it to me in silence, without comment, either favorable or critical, and have merely scattered some literary thorns, a little here and a little there, in your letter, which have caused me great pain; and I would have preferred to have heard reproof from a person of discernment such as yourself had you said to me in plain words: “Do yourself a favor, and remain sitting at home; why should you fret yourself by getting involved with the literati, over whom you will not prevail?” than to hear your wearisome statements that have dissolved my substance, and whose nature I do not understand. I am not, indeed, distressed—Heaven forbid—about your criticisms that you have noted in my book—in truth, they are very good and fully justified; and blessed be your discretion, and may you too be blessed on account of this kindness that you have accorded me, but my heart is nonetheless grieved insofar as you have made no constructive suggestions, but have merely wounded me, in indirect fashion, with statements, that harsh phrases and numerous Germanic constructions are to be found in my translation, and that if I duly carried out a search, I would find such-and-such examples; Alas, my God! Would that I knew where to find them, for I have now begun refining and polishing my work, and have scattered all thorns to the winds, as though they were unclean, and have sent it to you, complete in its splendor, without any defects. I have, moreover, openly requested you kindly to honor me with a small portion of your pearl-like verses, which are worthy of being bound as a wreath upon its head, but I am unaware of my literary sins, and have relied upon you, as a savant, to serve as someone appropriately directing my attention, to assist me in getting rid of all the thorns contained within my work, and to tell me the plain, honest truth, as to whether it is worthy of publication, as I have no desire to add both my hands, which are filled with emptiness, to the piles of emptiness that have already been heaped up within Hebrew literature, and whose time for disposal by burning has already arrived; and I have no wish to justify myself to the readers of my variety of literary work, as I am only a woman, and accordingly, let them not expect excessive linguistic talent from me, for that would be unworthy of the reader! From whose bowels can material be excreted if a person were merely to taste it with his palate? And if his teeth are set on edge by it, he will not cease protesting vehemently against me, saying: “Who required this of you, to trample the courtyards of the literati? A woman’s wisdom lies only in the spinning-wheel!”

And now, after having poured out my complaint before you, my dear sir, I beg your forgiveness for having dared to say all these things to you, for what right do I have to complain about you—for what relationship do I have with you? However, it is the destiny of the sages in every generation to suffer distress at witnessing the distress of others, and it is to them that all those thirsty for good counsel and hungry for wisdom flee for assistance; and if they are not on our side, who then will be? And so, on this occasion too, I shall not despair, and I shall place my hope in you that you will render me advice from afar!

My heart moans heavily within me when I see, from your latest letter, the unfortunate lot of the sages and literati among our nation, and that you can see no reward for your enormous toil in the sacred work. Alas for that shame! Will the faces of the leaders of our people in Russia not be covered with embarrassment when they contemplate the lot of the gentile writers in other countries, for besides the glory and the honor that are accorded to them, every knee bowing to them, and their boasting in their glory, the public also enrich them with capital and wealth, and they are regarded as princes and lords. If you, sir, had heeded my advice, you would by now have begun to demonstrate your literary power in other languages, in accordance with the benevolent hand of the Almighty guarding over you; for then your labor would not be in vain, neither would you be producing work for futility, for the majority of our nation will not understand you, and most of them lack that sense of glory that would allow them to pride themselves in the wisdom of their few sages and writers—which constitutes our entire honor and glory in the estimation of the gentile nations; and all their virtues are merely like the chewing of the cud, and they revere and hallow the golden calf. I swear by my life, my dear sir, that my heart becomes soured when recalling your sublime poems Shire Yehudah, every single idea within which is beyond comparison even with pearls and precious stones, and yet you have sown them on desolate land which will bear you no fruit—not even a single handful in volume—and accordingly, for what purpose are you toiling? It can only be in order that your elegant words, appearing in your first poem, should be given credence, for it was for this purpose that you were created, and you will not retain the strength required to restrain the wind of the spirit!

Kindly let me know, dear sir, whether you are still ready to bless our ungrateful nation with the treasury of your wisdom, and what you will be offering them this time round; and, should a few of the samples from your booklet Olam ke-minhago [the world proceeds as usual] come into your hands, kindly honor me with one of these, and it will serve as a sign to me that you have pardoned our transgression and that my honor is now renewed insofar as you are concerned. Regarding your request that I send you a photograph of myself as a memento, I cannot yet comply with it, despite my wish to do so, as I currently have not even a single photograph in my possession, but in a few days’ time, I shall be most honored to dispatch it to you. And in the meanwhile, I shall inwardly dare to preempt you with a request that you first send me a photograph of yourself, which will serve me as a double sign that you seek my welfare.

Enclosed herewith, sir, you will receive the price for eleven samples that I have distributed among my acquaintances in Suwalki, because, over and above the ten that you sent to me, I took another one from our dear friend, the esteemed Mr. Prozer, which I had for the purpose of honoring one of my female friends over here.

Farewell to you, my dear sir and friend, and greetings to your wife, the refined adornment of your household, and to your delightful children. Ride on prosperously upon the wings of the heights of happiness and wisdom, in accordance with your desire, and with that of your friend who honors you in measure commensurate with your lofty worth.

Miriam Markel