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Abraham Goldfaden

Abraham Goldfaden  Biography

Abraham Goldfaden (July 24, 1840 – January 9, 1908; Born Avrum Goldnfoden; first name alternately Abram, Avram, Avrohom, Avrom, or Avrum, last name alternately Goldfadn; (the Romanian spelling Avram Goldfaden is common) was a Russian-born Jewish poet and playwright, author of some 40 plays. In 1876 he founded in Romania what is generally credited as the world’s first professional Yiddish-language theater troupe. He was also responsible for the first Hebrew-language play performed in the United States. The Avram Goldfaden Festival of Iasi, Romania, is named and held in his honour.

Jacob Sternberg called him “the Prince Charming who woke up the lethargic Romanian Jewish culture”. Israil Bercovici wrote that in his works “…we find points in common with what we now call ‘total theater’. In many of his plays he alternates prose and verse, pantomime and dance, moments of acrobatics and some of jonglerie, and even of spiritualism…”

Goldfaden was born in Starokonstantinov. His birthdate is sometimes given as July 12, following the “Old Style” calendar in use at that time in Russia. He attended a Jewish religious school (a cheder), but his middle class family was strongly associated with the Haskalah, the Jewish Enlightenment, and his father, a watchmaker, arranged that he receive private lessons in German and Russian. As a child, he is said to have appreciated and imitated the performances of wedding jesters and Brody singers to the degree that he acquired the nickname Avromele Badkhen, “Abie the Jester”. In 1857 he began studies at the government-run rabbinical school at Zhytomyr, from which he emerged in 1866 as a teacher and a poet (with some experience in amateur theater), but he never led a congregation.

Goldfaden’s first published poem was called “Progress”; his New York Times obituary described it as “a plea for Zionism years before that movement developed”. In 1865 he published his first book of poetry, Zizim u-Ferahim (in Hebrew); The Jewish Encyclopedia (1901–1906) says that “Goldfaden’s Hebrew poetry… possesses considerable merit, but it has been eclipsed by his Yiddish poetry, which, for strength of expression and for depth of true Jewish feeling, remains unrivaled.” The first book of verse in Yiddish was published in 1866, and in 1867 he took a job teaching in Simferopol. A year later, he moved on to Odessa (in Ukraine), where he lived initially in his uncle’s house, where a cousin who was a good pianist helped him set some of his poems to music.

In Odessa, Goldfaden renewed his acquaintance with fellow Yiddish-language writer Yitzhak Yoel Linetsky, whom he knew from Zhytomyr and met Hebrew-language poet Eliahu Mordechai Werbel (whose daughter Paulina would become Goldfaden’s wife) and published poems in the newspaper Kol-Mevaser. He also wrote his first two plays, Die Tzwei Sheines (The Two Neighbors) and Die Murneh Sosfeh (Aunt Susie), included with some verses in a modestly successful 1869 book Die Yidene (The Jewish Woman), which went through three editions in three years. At this time, he and Paulina were living mainly on his meagre teacher’s salary of 18 rubles a year, supplemented by giving private lessons and taking a job as a cashier in a hat shop.

In 1875, Golfaden headed for Munich, intending to study medicine. This did not work out, and he headed for Lvov/Lemberg in Galicia, where he again met up with Linetsky, now editor of a weekly paper, Isrulik or Der Alter Yisrulik (which was well reputed, but was soon shut by the government). A year later, he moved on to Chernivtsi in Bukovina, where he edited the Yiddish-language daily Dos Bukoviner Israelitishe Folksblatt. The limits of the economic sense of this enterprise can be gauged from his inability to pay a registration fee of 3000 ducats. He tried unsuccessfully to operate the paper under a different name, but soon moved on to Iasi.

Arriving in Iasi in 1876, Goldfaden was fortunate to be better known as a good poet — many of whose poems had been set to music and had become popular songs — than as a less-than-successful businessman. When he sought funds from Yitzhak Librescu for another newspaper, Librescu was uninterested in that proposition. Librescu’s wife remarked that Yiddish-language journalism was just a way to starve; she suggested that there would be a lot more of a market for Yiddish-language theater. Librescu offered Goldfaden 100 francs for a public recital of his songs in the garden of Shimen Mark, Gradina Pomul Verde (“the Green Fruit-Tree Garden”).

Instead of a simple recital, Goldfaden expanded this into something of a vaudeville; either this or their first indoor performance later that year in Botosani is generally counted as the first professional Yiddish theater performance. However, the nature of his cast indicates exactly how nominal it is to choose one performance as “the first”: Goldfaden’s first actor, Israel Grodner, was already singing Goldfaden’s songs (and others) in the salons of Iasi.

In fact, another candidate for consideration as the first professional Yiddish theater performance also included Grodner. He sang in a concert in Odessa in 1873, which also included some of the Goldfaden’s songs, although Goldfaden was not personally involved. It appears to have had significant improvised material between songs, although no actual script.

Although Goldfaden, by his own account, was familiar at this time with “practically all of Russian literature”, had plenty of exposure to Russian and Polish theater, and had even seen African American tragedian Ira Aldrich perform Shakespeare, the performance at Gradina Pomul Verde was only a bit more of a play than Grodner had participated in three years earlier. The songs were strung together with a bit of character and plot and a good bit of improvisation. The performance by Goldfaden, Grodner, Sokher Goldstein, and possibly as many as three other men went over well. The first performance was either Di bobe mitn einikl (Grandmother and Granddaughter) or Dos bintl holt (The Bundle of sticks); sources disagree. (Some reports suggest that Goldfaden himself was a poor singer, or even a non-singer and poor actor; according to Bercovici, these reports stem from Goldfaden’s own self-disparaging remarks or from his countenance as an old man in New York, but contemporary reports show him to have been a decent, though not earth-shattering, actor and singer.)

After that time, Goldfaden continued miscellaneous newspaper work, but the stage became his main focus.

As it happens, Mihai Eminescu saw one of their Pomul Verde performances later that summer. He records that the company had six players. (A 1905 typographical error would turn this to a much-cited sixteen, suggesting a grander beginning for Yiddish theater.) He was impressed by the quality of the singing and acting, but found the pieces “without much dramatic interest.” [Bercovici, 1998, 58] His generally positive comments would seem to deserve to be taken seriously: Eminescu was “virulently antisemitic”. Eminescu appears to have seen four of Goldfaden’s early plays: a satiric musical revue De velt a gan-edn (The World and Paradise), Der Farlibter Maskil un der Oifgheklerter Hosid’ (a dialogue between “an infatuated philosopher” and “an enlightened Hasid”), another musical revue Der sver mitn eidem (Father-in-law and Son-in-Law), and a comedy Fishl der balegole un zain knecht Sider (Fishel the Junkman and His Servant Sider).

As the season for outdoor performances was coming to a close, Goldfaden tried and failed to rent an appropriate theater in Iasi. A theater owner named Reicher, presumably Jewish himself, told him that “a troupe of Jewish singers” would be “too dirty”. Goldfaden, Grodner, and Goldstein headed first to Botosani, where they lived in a garret and Goldfaden continued to churn out songs and plays. An initial successful performance of Di Rekruten (The Recruits) in an indoor theater (“with loges!” as Goldfaden wrote) was followed by days of rain so torrential that no one would come out to the theater; they pawned some possessions and left for Galati, which was to prove a bit more auspicious, with a successful three-week run.

In Galati they acquired their first serious set designer, a housepainter known as Reb Moishe Bas. He had no formal artistic training, but he proved to be good at the job, and joined the troupe, as did Sara Segal, their first actress. She was not yet out of her teens. After seeing her perform in their Galati premiere, her mother objected to her unmarried daughter cavorting on a stage like that; Goldstein (unlike Goldfaden and Grodner) was single; he promptly married her and she remained with the troupe. (Besides being known as Sara Segal and Sofia Goldstein, she became best known as Sofia Karp, after a second marriage to actor Max Karp).

After the successful run in Galati came a less successful attempt in Braila, but by now the company had honed its act and it was time to go to the capital, Bucharest.

As in Iasi, Goldfaden arrived in Bucharest with his reputation already established. He and his players performed first in the early spring at the salon Lazar Cafegiu on Calea Vacaresti (Vacaresti Avenue, in the heart of the ghetto), then, once the weather turned warm, at the Jignita garden, a pleasant tree-shaded beer garden on Str. Negru Voda that up until then had drawn only a neighborhood crowd. He filled out his cast from the great pool of Jewish vocal talent: synagogue cantors. He also recruited two eminently respectable classically trained prima donnas, sisters Margaretta and Annetta Schwartz.

Among the cantors in his casts that year were Lazar Zuckermann (also known as Laiser Zuckerman; as a song-and-dance man, he would eventually follow Goldfaden to New York and a long stage career, Moishe Zilberman (also known as Silberman), and Simhe Dinman, but the find, soon to become a stage star, was the 18-year-old Zigmund Mogulescu (Sigmund Mogulesko), an orphan who had already made his way in the world as a singer not only as a soloist in the Great Synagogue of Bucharest, but in cafes, at parties, with a visiting French operetta company, and even in a church choir. Before his voice changed, he had sung with Zuckerman, Dinman, and Moses Wald in the “Israelite Chorus”, performing at important ceremonies in the Jewish community. Mogulescu’s audition for Goldfaden was a scene from Vladutu Mamei (Mama’s Boy), which formed the basis later that year for Goldfaden’s light comedy Shmendrik, oder Die Komishe Chaseneh (Shmendrik or The Comical Wedding starring Mogulescu as the almost painfully clueless and hapless young man (later, famously played in New York and elsewhere by actress Molly Picon); the title is a pun on the Chemical Wedding).

This recruiting of cantors was not without controversy: Cantor Cuper (also known as Kupfer), the head cantor of the Great Synagogue, considered it “impious” that cantors should perform in a secular setting, to crowds where both sexes mingled freely, keeping people up late so that they might not be on time for morning prayers.

While one may argue over which performance “started” Yiddish theater, by the end of that summer in Bucharest Yiddish theater was an established fact. The influx of Jewish merchants and middlemen to at the start of the Russo-Turkish War had greatly expanded the audience; among these new arrivals were Israel Rosenberg and Jacob Spivakovsky, the highly cultured scion of a wealthy Russian Jewish family, both of whom actually joined Goldfaden’s troupe, but soon left to found the first Yiddish theater troupe in Imperial Russia.

While light comedy and satire might have established Yiddish theater as a commercially successful medium, it would never have established Goldfaden as “the Yiddish Shakespeare” (which the New York Times called him at his death in 1908). As a man broadly read in several languages, he was acutely aware that there was no Eastern European Jewish tradition of dramatic literature, his audience was used to seeking just “a good glass of Odobesti and a song”. Years later, he would paraphrase the typical Yiddish theatergoer of the time as saying to him, “We don’t go to the theater to make our head swim with sad things. We have enough troubles at home… We go to the theater to cheer ourselves up. We pay up a coin and hope to be distracted, we want to laugh from the heart.”

Goldfaden wrote that this attitude put him “pure and simply at war with the public”. His stage was not to be merely “…a masquerade. No, brothers. If I have arrived at having a stage, I want it to be a school for you. In youth you didn’t have time to learn and cultivate yourself… Laugh heartily if I amuse you with my jokes, while I, watching you, feel my heart crying. Then, brothers, I’ll give you a drama, a tragedy drawn from life, and you, too, shall cry – while my heart shall be glad.” Nonetheless, his “war with the public” was based on understanding that public. He would also write, “I wrote Di kishefmakhern (The Witch) in Romania, where the populace – Jews as much as Romanians – believe strongly in witches.” Local superstitions and concerns always made good subject matter, and, as Bercovici remarks, however strong his inspirational and didactic intent, his historical pieces were always connected to contemporary concerns.

Even in the first couple of years of his company, Goldfaden did not shy away from serious themes: his rained-out vaudeville in Botosani had been Di Rekruten (The Recruits), playing with the theme of the press gangs working the streets of that town to conscript young men into the army. Before the end of 1876, Goldfaden had already translated Desolate Island by August von Kotzebue; thus, a play by a German aristocrat and Russian spy became the first non-comic play performed professionally in Yiddish. After his initial burst of mostly vaudevilles and light comedies (although Shmendrik and The Two Kuni-Lemls were reasonably sophisticated plays), Goldfaden would go on to write many serious Yiddish-language plays on Jewish themes, perhaps the most famous being Shulamith, also from 1880. Golfaden himself suggested that this increasingly serious turn became possible because he had educated his audience. Nahma Sandrow suggests that it may have had equally much to do with the arrival in Romania of Russian Jews at the time of the Russo-Turkish War, who had been exposed to more sophisticated Russian language theater. Goldfaden’s strong turn toward almost uniformly serious subject matter roughly coincided with bringing his troupe to Odessa.

Goldfaden’s father wrote him to solicit the troupe to come to Odessa in Ukraine, which was then part of Imperial Russia. The timing was opportune: the end of the war meant that much of his best audience were now in Odessa rather than Bucharest; Rosenberg had already quit Goldfaden’s troupe and was performing the Goldfadenian repertoire in Odessa.

With a loan from Librescu, Goldfaden headed east with a group of 42 people, including performers, musicians, and their families. After the end of the Russo-Turkish War he and his troupe travelled extensively through Imperial Russia, notably to Kharkov (also in Ukraine), Moscow, and Saint Petersburg. Jacob Adler later described him at this time as “a bon vivant”, “a cavalier”, “as difficult to approach as an emperor”.[12] He continued to turn out plays at a prolific pace, now mostly serious pieces such as Doctor Almasada, oder Die Yiden in Palermo (Doctor Almasada, or The Jews of Palermo), Shulamith, and Bar Kokhba, the last being a rather dark operetta about Bar Kokhba’s revolt, written after the pogroms following the 1881 assassination of Czar Alexander II, as the tide turned against Jewish emancipation.

As it happens, a Frenchman named Victor Tissot happened to be in Berdichev when Goldfaden’s company was there. He saw two plays – Di Rekruten, first premiered in Botosani, and the later Di Shvebleh (Matches), a play of intrigue. Tissot’s account of what he saw gives an interesting picture of the theaters and audiences Goldfaden’s troupe encountered outside of the big cities. “Berdichev,” he begins, “has not one cafe, not one restaurant. Berdichev, which is a boring and sad city, nonetheless has a theatrical hall, a big building made of rough boards, where theater troupes passing through now and then put on a play.” Although there was a proper stage with a curtain, the cheap seats were bare benches, the more expensive ones were benches covered in red percale. Although there were many full beards, “there were no long caftans, no skullcaps.” Some of the audience were quite poor, but these were assimilated Jews, basically secular. The audience also included Russian officers with their wives or girlfriends.

In Russia, Goldfaden and his troupe drew large audiences and were generally popular with progressive Jewish intellectuals, but slowly ran afoul of both the Czarist government and conservative elements in the Jewish community. Goldfaden was calling for change in the Jewish world:

Wake up my people
From your sleep, wake up
And believe no more in foolishness.

A call like this might be a bit ambiguous, but it was unsettling to those who were on the side of the status quo. Yiddish theater was banned in Russia starting September 14, 1883 as part of the anti-Jewish reaction following the assassination of Czar Alexander II. Goldfaden and his troupe were left adrift in Saint Petersburg. They headed various directions, some to England, some to New York City, some to Poland, some to Romania.

Goldfaden was both a theoretician and a practitioner of theater. That he was in no small measure a theoretician – for example, he was interested almost from the start in having set design seriously support the themes of his plays – relates to a key property of Yiddish theater at the time of its birth: in general, writes Bercovici, theory ran ahead of practice. Much of the Jewish community, Goldfaden included, were already familiar with contemporary theater in other languages. The initial itinerary of Goldfaden’s company – Iasi, Botosani, Galati, Braila, Bucharest – could as easily have been the itinerary of a Romanian-language troupe. Yiddish theater may have been seen from the outset as an expression of a Jewish national character, but the theatrical values of Goldfaden’s company were in many ways those of a good Romanian theater of the time. Also, Yiddish was a German dialect and a well-known language even among non-Jews in Moldavia (and Transylvania), an important language of commerce; the fact that one of the first to write about Yiddish theater was Romania’s national poet, Mihai Eminescu, is testimony that interest in Yiddish theater went beyond the Jewish community.

Almost from the first, Yiddish theater drew a level of theater criticism comparable to any other European theater of its time. Bercovici cites a “brochure” by one G. Abramski, published in 1877. Abramski described and gave critiques of all of Goldfaden’s plays of that year, discussed what a Yiddish theater ought to be, speculated that this might be a moment comparable to the Elizabethan era for English theater, noted the many sources of this emerging form (ranging from Purim plays to circus pantomime), praised the strong female roles, but criticized where he saw weaknesses: a male actor unconvincingly playing the mother in Shmendrik, or the entire play Di shtume kale (The Mute Bride) — a play apparently written to accommodate a pretty, young actress who was too nervous to deliver her lines — saying of it that the only evidence of Goldfaden’s authorship was his name.

Goldfaden was churning out a repertoire – new songs, new plays, translations of plays from Romanian, French, and other languages; in the first two years, he wrote 22 plays, and would eventually write about 40 – and while Goldfaden was not always able to retain the players in his company once they became stars in their own right, he continued for many years to recruit first-rate talent, and his company became a de facto training ground for Yiddish theater. By the end of the year, others were writing Yiddish plays as well, such as Moses Horowitz with Der tiranisher bankir, (The Tyrannical Banker) or Grodner with Curve un ganev, (? prostitutes and a thief), and Yiddish theater had become big theater, with elaborate sets, duelling choruses, and extras to fill out crowd scenes.

Goldfaden was helped by Ion Ghica, then head of the Romanian National Theater to legally establish a “dramatic society” to handle administrative matters. From those papers, we know that the troupe at the Jignita included Moris Teich, Michel Liechman (Glückman), Lazar Zuckermann, Margareta Schwartz, Sofia Palandi, Aba Goldstein, and Clara Goldstein. We also know from similar papers that when Grodner and Mogulescu walked out on Goldfaden to start their own company, it included (besides themselves) I. Rosenberg, Y. Spivakovsky, P. Sapira, M. Banderevsky, Anetta Grodner, and Rosa Friedman.

Ion Ghica was a valuable ally for Yiddish theater in Bucharest. On several occasions he expressed his favorable view of the quality of acting, and even more of the technical aspects of the Yiddish theater. In 1881, he obtained for the National Theater the costumes that had been used for a Yiddish pageant on the coronation of King Solomon, which had been timed in tribute to the actual coronation of Carol I of Romania.

While Yiddish theater continued successfully in various places, Goldfaden was not on the best terms at this time with Mogulescu. They had quarrelled (and settled) several times over rights to plays, and Mogulescu and his partner Moishe “Maurice” Finkel now dominated Yiddish theater in Romania, with about ten lesser companies competing as well. Mogulescu was a towering figure in Bucharest theater at this point, lauded on a level comparable to the actors of the National Theater, performing at times in Romanian as well as Yiddish, drawing an audience that went well beyond the Jewish community.

Goldfaden seems, in Bercovici’s words, to have lost “his theatrical elan” in this period. He briefly put together a theater company in 1886 in Warsaw, with no notable success. In 1887 he went to New York (as did Mogulescu, independently). After extensive negotiations and great anticipation in the Yiddish-language press in New York (“Goldfaden in America”, read the headline in the January 11, 1888 edition of the New Yorker Yiddishe Ilustrirte Zaitung), he briefly took on the job of director of Mogulescu’s new Rumanian Opera House; they parted ways again after the failure of their first play, whose production values were apparently not up to New York standards. Goldfaden attempted (unsuccessfully) to found a theater school, then headed in 1889 for Paris, rather low on funds. There he wrote some poetry, worked on a play that he didn’t finish at that time, and put together a theater company that never got to the point of putting on a play (because the cashier made off with all of their funds [Adler, 1999, 262 commentary]). In October 1889 he scraped together the money to get to Lvov, where his reputation as a poet again came to his rescue.

Lvov was not exactly a dramatist’s dream. Leon Dreykurs described audiences bringing meals into the theater, rustling paper, treating the theater like a beer garden. He also quotes Jacob Schatzky: “All in all, the Galician milieu was not favorable to Yiddish theater. The intellectuals were assimilated, but the masses were fanatically religious and they viewed Jewish ‘comedians’ with disdain.”

Nonetheless, Iacob Ber Ghimpel, who owned a Yiddish theater there, was glad to have a figure of Goldfaden’s stature. Goldfaden completed the play he’d started in Paris, Rabi Yoselman, oder Die Gzerot fun Alsas (“Rabbi Yoselman, or The Alsatian Decree”), in five acts and 23 scenes, based on the life of Josel of Rosheim. At this time he also wrote an operetta Rothschild and a semi-autobiographical play called Mashiach Tzeiten (Messiah Times) that gave a less-than-optimistic view of America.

Kalman Juvelier, an actor in Ber Ghimpel’s company, credited Goldfaden’s brief time in Lvov as greatly strengthening the caliber of performance there, working with every actor on understanding his or her character, making sure that the play was more than just a series of songs and effects, respected by all.

Buoyed by his success in Lvov, he returned to Bucharest in 1892, as director of the Jignita theater. His new company again included Lazar Zuckermann; other players were Marcu (Mordechai) Segalescu, and later Iacob Kalich, Carol Schramek, Malvina Treitler-Löbel and her father H. Goldenbers. Among his notable plays from this period were Dos zenteh Gebot, oder Lo tachmod (The Tenth Commandment, or Thou Shalt Not Covet), Judas Maccabaeus, and Judith and Holfernes and a translation of Johann Strauss’s Gypsy Baron.

However, it was not a propitious time to return to Romania. Yiddish theater had become a business there, with slickly written advertisements, coordinated performances in multiple cities using the same publicity materials, and cutthroat competition: on one occasion in 1895, a young man named Bernfeld attended multiple performances of Goldfaden’s Story of Isaac, memorized it all (including the songs), and took the whole package to Kalman Juvilier, who put on an unauthorized production in Iasi. Such outright theft was possible because once Ion Ghica headed off on a diplomatic career, the National Theater, which was supposed to adjudicate issues like unauthorized performances of plays, was no longer paying much attention to Yiddish theater. (Juvilier and Goldfaden finally reached an out-of-court settlement.)

Cutthroat competition was nothing to what was to follow. The 1890s were a tough time for the Romanian economy, and a rising tide of anti-Semitism made it an even tougher time for the Jews. One quarter of the Jewish population emigrated, with intellecuals particularly likely to leave, and those intellecuals who remained were more interested in politics than in theater: this was a period of social ferment, with Jewish socialists in Iasi starting Der Veker (The Awakener).

Goldfaden left Romania in 1896; soon Juvilier’s was the only active Yiddish theater troupe in the country, and foreign troupes had almost entirely ceased coming to the country. Although Lateiner, Horowitz, and Shumer kept writing, and occasionally managed to put on a play, it was not a good time for Yiddish theater – or any theater – in Romania, and would only become worse as the economy continued to decline.

Goldfaden wandered Europe as a poet and journalist. His plays continued to be performed in Europe and America, but rarely, if ever, did anyone send him royalties. His health deteriorated – a 1903 letter refers to asthma and spitting up blood – and he was running out of money. In 1903, he wrote Jacob Dinesohn from Paris, authorizing him to sell his remaining possessions in Romania, clothes and all. This gave him the money to head once more to New York in 1904.

In America, he again tried his hand at journalism, but a brief stint as editor of the New Yorker Yiddishe Ilustrirte Zaitung resulted only in getting the paper suspended and landing himself a rather large fine. On March 31, 1905, he recited poetry at a benefit performance at Cooper Union to raise a pension for Yiddish poet Eliakum Zunser, even worse off than himself because he had found himself unable to write since coming to America in 1889. Shortly afterwards, he met a group of young people who had a Hebrew language association at the Dr. Herzl Zion Club, and wrote a Hebrew-language play David ba-Milchama (David in the War), which they performed in March 1906, the first Hebrew-language play to be performed in America. Repeat performances in March 1907 and April 1908 drew successively larger crowds.

He also wrote the spoken portions of Ben Ami, loosely based on George Eliot’s Daniel Deronda. After Goldfaden’s former bit player Jacob Adler — by now the owner of a prominent New York Yiddish theater — optioned and ignored it, even accusing Goldfaden of being “senile”, it premiered successfully at rival Boris Thomashefsky’s People’s Theater December 25, 1907, with music by H. Friedzel and lyrics by Mogulescu, who was by this time an international star.

He died in New York City in 1908. At the time of his death, the New York Times called him not only “the Yiddish Shakespeare”, but “both a poet and a prophet”, and added that “…there is more evidence of genuine sympathy with and admiration for the man and his work than is likely to be manifested at the funeral of any poet now writing in the English language in this country.” An estimated 75,000 attended his funeral procession from the People’s Theater in the Bowery to Washington Cemetery in Brooklyn.


Sources disagree about the dates (and even the names) of some of Goldfaden’s plays. As usual in transcribing Yiddish, spellings vary wildly.

  • Die Mumeh Soseh (Aunt Susie) wr. 1869
  • Die Tzwei Sheines (The Two Neighbours) wr. 1869 (possibly the same as Die Sheines 1877
  • Polyeh Shikor (Polyeh, the Drunkard) 1871
  • Anonimeh Komedyeh (Anonymous Comedy) 1876
  • Die Rekruten (The Recruits) 1876, 1877
  • Dos Bintl Holtz (The Bundle of Sticks) 1876
  • Fishl der balegole un zain knecht Sider (Fishel the Junkman and His Servant Sider) 1876
  • Die Velt a Gan-Edn (The World and Paradise) 1876
  • Der Farlibter Maskil un der Oifgheklerter Hosid (The Infatuated Philosopher and the Enlightened Hasid) 1876
  • Der Shver mitn eidem (Father-in-Law and Son-in-Law) 1876
  • Die Bobeh mit dem Einikel (The Grandmother and the Granddaughter) 1876 presumably the same play as Die kaprizneh Kaleh-Moid (The Capricious Bridemaid) 1887
  • Yontl Shnaider (Yontl the Tailor) 1877
  • Vos tut men? (What Did He Do?) 1877
  • Die Shtumeh Kaleh (The Dumb Bride) 1877, 1887
  • Die Tzwei Toibe (The Two Deaf Men) 1877
  • Der Ghekoifter Shlof (The Purchased Sleep) 1877
  • Die Sheines (The Neighbors) 1877
  • Yukel un Yekel (Yukel and Yekel) 1877
  • Der Katar (Catarrh) 1877
  • Ix-Mix-Drix, 1877
  • Die Mumeh Sose (Mute Susie) 1877
  • Braindele Kozak (Breindele Cossack), 1877
  • Der Podriatshik (The Purveyor), 1877
  • Die Alte Moid (The Old Maid) 1877
  • Die Tzvei fardulte (The Two Scatter-Brains) 1877
  • Die Shvebeleh (Matches) 1877
  • Fir Portselaiene Teler (Four Porcelain Plates) 1877
  • Der Shpigl (The Mirror) 1877
  • Toib, Shtum un Blind (Deaf, Dumb and Blind) 1878
  • Todres Bloz (Todros, Blow or Todres the Trombonist) 1878
  • Ni-be-ni-me-ni-cucurigu (Not Me, Not You, Not Cock-a-Doodle-Doo or Neither This, Nor That, nor Kukerikoo; Lulla Rosenfeld also gives the alternate title The Struggle of Culture with Fanaticism) 1878
  • Der Heker un der Bleher-iung (The Butcher and the Tinker) 1878
  • Die Kishufmacherin (The Sorceress, also known as The Witch of Botosani) 1878, 1887
  • Soufflé, 1878
  • Doi Intriganten (Two Intriguers) 1878
  • Die tzwei Kuni-lemels (The Fanatic, or The Two Kuni-Lemls) 1880
  • Thiat Hametim (The Winter of Death) 1881
  • Shulamith (Shulamith or The Daughter of Jerusalem) wr. 1880, 1881
  • Dos Zenteh Gebot, oder Lo Tachmod (The Tenth Commandment, or Thou Shalt Not Covet) 1882, 1887
  • Der Sambatien (Sambation) 1882
  • Doctor Almasada, oder Die Yiden in Palermo (Doctor Almasada, or The Jews of Palermo also known as Doctor Almasado, Doctor Almaraso, Doctor Almasaro) 1880, 1883
  • Bar Kokhba, 1883, 1885
  • Akejdos Jzchuk (The Sacrifice of Isaac), 1891
  • Dos Finfteh Gebot, oder Kibed Ov (The Fifth Commandment, or Thou Shalt Not Kill), 1892
  • Rabi Yoselman, oder Die Gzerot fun Alsas (Rabbi Yoselman, or The Alsatian Decree) 1877, 1892
  • Judas Maccabeus, 1892
  • Judith and Holofernes, 1892
  • Mashiach Tzeiten?! (The Messianic Era?!) 1891 1893
  • Yiddish translation of Johann Strauss’s Gypsy Baron 1894
  • Sdom Veamora (Sodom and Gomorrah) 1895
  • Die Catastrofe fun Braila (The Catastrophe in Braila) 1895
  • Meilits Ioisher (The Messenger of Justice) 1897
  • David ba-Milchama (David in the War) 1906, in Hebrew
  • Ben Ami (Son of My People) 1907, 1908
  • Der Ligner (The Liar) 1911 (posthumous)

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