Isaac Bashevis Singer - The Last Demon

ISAAC BASHEVIS SINGER

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PENGUIN CLASSICS

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Selected from The Collected Stories, published by Farrar, Straus and Giroux 1996

This edition published in Penguin Classics 2011

The Last Demon translated by Martha Glicklich and Cecil Hemley

Yentl the Yeshiva Boy translated by Marion Magid and Elizabeth Pollet

The Cafeteria translated by the author and Dorothea Straus

Copyright renewed Isaac Bashevis Singer, 1981, 1982

All rights reserved

Except in the United States of America, this book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publishers prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser

ISBN: 978-0-14-197063-9

ISAAC BASHEVIS SINGER

Born 21 November 1904, Leoncin, near Warsaw, Russian Empire

Died 24 July 1991, Surfside, Florida

The Last Demon and Yentl the Yeshiva Boy first published in book form in Short Friday and Other Stories (1964). The Cafeteria first published in book form in A Friend of Kafka and Other Stories (1970).

I, a demon, bear witness that there are no more demons left. Why demons, when man himself is a demon? Why persuade to evil someone who is already convinced? I am the last of the persuaders

I, a demon, bear witness that there are no more demons left. Why demons, when man himself is a demon? Why persuade to evil someone who is already convinced? I am the last of the persuaders. I board in an attic in Tishevitz and draw my sustenance from a Yiddish storybook, a leftover from the days before the great catastrophe. The stories in the book are pablum and duck milk, but the Hebrew letters have a weight of their own. I dont have to tell you that I am a Jew. What else, a Gentile? Ive heard that there are Gentile demons, but I dont know any, nor do I wish to know them. Jacob and Esau dont become in-laws.

I came here from Lublin. Tishevitz is a godforsaken village; Adam didnt even stop to pee there. Its so small that a wagon goes through town and the horse is in the marketplace just as the rear wheels reach the toll gate. There is mud in Tishevitz from Sukkoth until Tishe bAv. The goats of the town dont need to lift their beards to chew at the thatched roofs of the cottages. Hens roost in the middle of the streets. Birds build nests in the womens bonnets. In the tailors synagogue a billy goat is the tenth in the quorum.

Dont ask me how I managed to get to this smallest letter in the smallest of all prayer books. But when Asmodeus bids you go, you go. After Lublin the road is familiar as far as Zamosc. From there on you are on your own. I was told to look for an iron weathercock with a crow perched upon its comb on the roof of the study house. Once upon a time the cock turned in the wind, but for years now it hasnt moved, not even in thunder and lightning. In Tishevitz, even iron weathercocks die.

I speak in the present tense as for me time stands still. I arrive. I look around. For the life of me I cant find a single one of our men. The cemetery is empty. There is no outhouse. I go to the ritual bathhouse, but I dont hear a sound. I sit down on the highest bench, look down on the stone on which the buckets of water are poured each Friday, and wonder. Why am I needed here? If a little demon is wanted, is it necessary to import one all the way from Lublin? Arent there enough devils in Zamosc? Outside the sun is shining its close to the summer solstice but inside the bathhouse its gloomy and cold. Above me is a spider web, and within the web a spider wiggling its legs, seeming to spin but drawing no thread. Theres no sign of a fly, not even the shell of a fly. What does the creature eat? I ask myself. Its own insides? Suddenly I hear it chanting in a Talmudic singsong: A lion isnt satisfied by a morsel and a ditch isnt filled up with dirt from its own walls.

I burst out laughing.

Is that so? Why have you disguised yourself as a spider?

Ive already been a worm, a flea, a frog. Ive been sitting here for two hundred years without a stitch of work to do. But you need a permit to leave.

They dont sin here?

Petty men, petty sins. Today someone covets another mans broom; tomorrow he fasts and puts peas in his shoes. Ever since Abraham Zalman was under the illusion that he was Messiah, the son of Joseph, the blood of the people has congealed in their veins. If I were Satan, I wouldnt even send one of our first-graders here.

How much does it cost him?

Whats new in the world? he asks me.

Its not been so good for our crowd.

Whats happened? The Holy Spirit grows stronger?

Stronger? Only in Tishevitz is he powerful. No ones heard of him in the large cities. Even in Lublin hes out of style.

Well, that should be fine.

But it isnt, I said. All-Guilty is worse for us than All-Innocent. It has reached a point where people want to sin beyond their capacities. They martyr themselves for the most trivial of sins. If thats the way it is, what are we needed for? A short while ago I was flying over Levertov Street, and I saw a man dressed in a skunks coat. He had a black beard and wavy sidelocks; an amber cigar holder was clamped between his lips. Across the street from him an officials wife was walking, so it occurs to me to say, Thats quite a bargain, dont you think, Uncle? All I expected from him was a thought. I had my handkerchief ready if he should spit on me. So what does the man do? Why waste your breath on me? he calls out angrily.Im willing. Start working on her.

What sort of a misfortune is this?

Enlightenment! In the two hundred years youve been sitting on your tail here, Satan has cooked up a new dish of kasha. The Jews have now developed writers. Yiddish ones, Hebrew ones, and they have taken over our trade. We grow hoarse talking to every adolescent, but they print their kitsch by the thousands and distribute it to Jews everywhere. They know all our tricks mockery, piety. They have a hundred reasons why a rat must be kosher. All that they want to do is to redeem the world. Why, if you could corrupt nothing, have you been left here for two hundred years? And if you could do nothing in two hundred years, what do they expect from me in two weeks?

You know the proverb, A guest for a while sees a mile.

Whats there to see?

A young rabbi has moved here from Modly Bozyc. Hes not yet thirty, but hes absolutely stuffed with knowledge, knows the thirty-six tractates of the Talmud by heart. Hes the greatest Cabalist in Poland, fasts every Monday and Thursday, and bathes in the ritual bath when the water is ice cold. He wont permit any of us to talk to him. Whats more he has a handsome wife, and thats bread in the basket. What do we have to tempt him with? You might as well try to break through an iron wall. If I were asked my opinion, Id say that Tishevitz should be removed from our files. All I ask is that you get me out of here before I go mad.