* * * * *
At the time when Ezrielk was distinguishing himself on this fashion with
his chanting, the Jewish doctor from Kamenivke happened to be in the
place. He saw the crowd round the Old Shool, and he went in. As you may
suppose, he was much longer in coming out. He was simply riveted to the
spot, and it is said that he rubbed his eyes more than once while he
listened and looked. On coming away, he told them to bring Ezrielk to
see him on the following day, saying that he wished to see him, and
would take no fee.
Next day Ezrielk came with his mother to the doctor's house.
"A blow has struck me! A thunder has killed me! Reb Yainkel, do you know
what the doctor said?"
"You silly woman, don't scream so! He cannot have said anything bad
about Ezrielk. What is the matter? Did he hear him intone the Gemoreh,
or perhaps sing? Don't cry and lament like that!"
"Reb Yainkel, what are you talking about? The doctor said that my
Ezrielk is in danger, that he's ill, that he hasn't a sound organ--his
heart, his lungs, are all sick. Every little bone in him is broken. He
mustn't sing or study--the bath will be his death--he must have a long
cure--he must be sent away for air. God (he said to me) has given you a
precious gift, such as Heaven and earth might envy. Will you go and bury
it with your own hands?"
"And you were frightened and believed him? Nonsense! I've had Ezrielk in
my Cheder two years. Do I want _him_ to come and tell me what goes on
there? If _he_ were a really good doctor, and had one drop of Jewish
blood left in his veins, wouldn't he know that every true Jew has a sick
heart, a bad lung, broken bones, and deformed limbs, and is well and
strong in spite of it, because the holy Torah is the best medicine for
all sicknesses? Ha, ha, ha! And _he_ wants Ezrielk to give up learning
and the bath? Do you know what? Go home and send Ezrielk to Cheder at
once!"
The Kamenivke doctor made one or two more attempts at alarming Ezrielk's
parents; he sent his assistant to them more than once, but it was no
use, for after what Reb Yainkel had said, nobody would hear of any
doctoring.
So Ezrielk continued to study the Talmud and occasionally to lead the
service in Shool, like the Chassidic child he was, had a dip nearly
every morning in the bath-house, and at thirteen, good luck to him, he
was married.
The Hostre Rebbe himself honored the wedding with his presence. The
Rebbe, long life to him, was fond of Ezrielk, almost as though he had
been his own child. The whole time the saint stayed in Kabtzonivke,
Kamenivke, and Ebionivke, Ezrielk had to be near him.
When they told the Rebbe the story of the doctor, he remarked, "Ett!
what do _they_ know?"
And Ezrielk continued to recite the prayers after his marriage, and to
sing as before, and was the delight of all who heard him.
Agreeably to the marriage contract, Ezrielk and his Channehle had a
double right to board with their parents "forever"; when they were born
and the written engagements were filled in, each was an only child, and
both Reb Seinwill and Reb Selig undertook to board them "forever." True,
when the parents wedded their "one and only children," they had both of
them a houseful of little ones and no Parnosseh (they really hadn't!),
but they did not go back upon their word with regard to the "board
forever."
Of course, it is understood that the two "everlasting boards" lasted
nearly one whole year, and Ezrielk and his wife might well give thanks
for not having died of hunger in the course of it, such a bad, bitter
year as it was for their poor parents. It was the year of the great
flood, when both Reb Seinwill Bassis and Reb Selig Tachshit had their
houses ruined.
Ezrielk, Channehle, and their little son had to go and shift for
themselves. But the other inhabitants of Kabtzonivke, regardless of
this, now began to envy them in earnest: what other couple of their age,
with a child and without a farthing, could so easily make a livelihood
as they?
Hardly had it come to the ears of the three towns that Ezrielk was
seeking a Parnosseh when they were all astir. All the Shools called
meetings, and sought for means and money whereby they might entice the
wonderful cantor and secure him for themselves. There was great
excitement in the Shools. Fancy finding in a little, thin Jewish lad all
the rare and precious qualities that go to make a great cantor! The
trustees of all the Shools ran about day and night, and a fierce war
broke out among them.
The war raged five times twenty-four hours, till the Great Shool in
Kamenivke carried the day. Not one of the others could have dreamed of
offering him such a salary--three hundred rubles and everything found!
"God is my witness"--thus Ezrielk opened his heart, as he sat afterwards
with the company of Hostre Chassidim over a little glass of
brandy--"that I find it very hard to leave our Old Shool, where my
grandfather and great-grandfather used to pray. Believe me, brothers, I
would not do it, only they give me one hundred and fifty rubles
earnest-money, and I want to pass it on to my father and father-in-law,
so that they may rebuild their houses. To your health, brothers! Drink
to my remaining an honest Jew, and wish that my head may not be turned
by the honor done to me!"
And Ezrielk began to davven and to sing (again without a choir) in the
Great Shool, in the large town of Kamenivke. There he intoned the
prayers as he had never done before, and showed who Ezrielk was! The Old
Shool in Kabtzonivke had been like a little box for his voice.
In those days Ezrielk and his household lived in happiness and plenty,
and he and Channehle enjoyed the respect and consideration of all men.
When Ezrielk led the service, the Shool was filled to overflowing, and
not only with Jews, even the richest Gentiles (I beg to distinguish!)
came to hear him, and wondered how such a small and weakly creature as
Ezrielk, with his thin chest and throat, could bring out such wonderful
tunes and whole compositions of his own! Money fell upon the lucky
couple, through circumcisions, weddings, and so on, like snow. Only one
thing began, little by little, to disturb their happiness: Ezrielk took
to coughing, and then to spitting blood.
He used to complain that he often felt a kind of pain in his throat and
chest, but they did not consult a doctor.
"What, a doctor?" fumed Reb Yainkel. "Nonsense! It hurts, does it?
Where's the wonder? A carpenter, a smith, a tailor, a shoemaker works
with his hands, and his hands hurt. Cantors and teachers and
match-makers work with their throat and chest, and _these_ hurt, they
are bound to do so. It is simply hemorrhoids."
So Ezrielk went on intoning and chanting, and the Kamenivke Jews licked
their fingers, and nearly jumped out of their skin for joy when they
heard him.
Two years passed in this way, and then came a change.
It was early in the morning of the Fast of the Destruction of the
Temple, all the windows of the Great Shool were open, and all the
tables, benches, and desks had been carried out from the men's hall and
the women's hall the evening before. Men and women sat on the floor, so
closely packed a pin could not have fallen to the floor between them.
The whole street in which was the Great Shool was chuck full with a
terrible crowd of men, women, and children, although it just happened to
be cold, wet weather. The fact is, Ezrielk's Lamentations had long been
famous throughout the Jewish world in those parts, and whoever had ears,
a Jewish heart, and sound feet, came that day to hear him. The sad
epidemic disease that (not of our days be it spoken!) swallows men up,
was devastating Kamenivke and its surroundings that year, and everyone
sought a place and hour wherein to weep out his opprest and bitter
heart.
Ezrielk also sat on the floor reciting Lamentations, but the man who sat
there was not the same Ezrielk, and the voice heard was not his.
Ezrielk, with his sugar-sweet, honeyed voice, had suddenly been
transformed into a strange being, with a voice that struck terror into
his hearers; the whole people saw, heard, and felt, how a strange
creature was flying about among them with a fiery sword in his hand. He
slashes, hews, and hacks at their hearts, and with a terrible voice he
cries out and asks: "Sinners! Where is your holy land that flowed with
milk and honey? Slaves! Where is your Temple? Accursed slaves! You sold
your freedom for money and calumny, for honors and worldly greatness!"
The people trembled and shook and were all but entirely dissolved in
tears. "Upon Zion and her cities!" sang out once more Ezrielk's
melancholy voice, and suddenly something snapped in his throat, just as
when the strings of a good fiddle snap when the music is at its best.
Ezrielk coughed, and was silent. A stream of blood poured from his
throat, and he grew white as the wall.
The doctor declared that Ezrielk had lost his voice forever, and would
remain hoarse for the rest of his life.
"Nonsense!" persisted Reb Yainkel. "His voice is breaking--it's nothing
more!"
"God will help!" was the comment of the Hostre saint. A whole year went
by, and Ezrielk's voice neither broke nor returned to him. The Hostre
Chassidim assembled in the house of Elkoneh the butcher to consider and
take counsel as to what Ezrielk should take to in order to earn a
livelihood for wife and children. They thought it over a long, long
time, talked and gave their several opinions, till they hit upon this:
Ezrielk had still one hundred and fifty rubles in store--let him spend
one hundred rubles on a house in Kabtzonivke, and begin to traffic with
the remainder.
Thus Ezrielk became a trader. He began driving to fairs, and traded in
anything and everything capable of being bought or sold.
Six months were not over before Ezrielk was out of pocket. He mortgaged
his property, and with the money thus obtained he opened a grocery shop
for Channehle. He himself (nothing satisfies a Jew!) started to drive
about in the neighborhood, to collect the contributions subscribed for
the maintenance of the Hostre Rebbe, long life to him!
Ezrielk was five months on the road, and when, torn, worn, and
penniless, he returned home, he found Channehle brought to bed of her
fourth child, and the shop bare of ware and equally without a groschen.
But Ezrielk was now something of a trader, and is there any strait in
which a Jewish trader has not found himself? Ezrielk had soon disposed
of the whole of his property, paid his debts, rented a larger lodging,
and started trading in several new and more ambitious lines: he pickled
gherkins, cabbages, and pumpkins, made beet soup, both red and white,
and offered them for sale, and so on. It was Channehle again who had to
carry on most of the business, but, then, Ezrielk did not sit with his
hands in his pockets. Toward Passover he had Shmooreh Matzes; he baked
and sold them to the richest householders in Kamenivke, and before the
Solemn Days he, as an expert, tried and recommended cantors and
prayer-leaders for the Kamenivke Shools. When it came to Tabernacles,
he trafficked in citrons and "palms."
For three years Ezrielk and his Channehle struggled at their trades,
working themselves nearly to death (of Zion's enemies be it spoken!),
till, with the help of Heaven, they came to be twenty years old.
By this time Ezrielk and Channehle were the parents of four living and
two dead children. Channehle, the once so lovely Channehle, looked like
a beaten Hoshanah, and Ezrielk--you remember the picture drawn at the
time of his wedding?--well, then try to imagine what he was like now,
after those seven years we have described for you! It's true that he was
not spitting blood any more, either because Reb Yainkel had been right,
when he said that would pass away, or because there was not a drop of
blood in the whole of his body.
So that was all right--only, how were they to live? Even Reb Yainkel and
all the Hostre Chassidim together could not tell him!
The singing had raised him and lifted him off his feet, and let him
fall. And do you know why it was and how it was that everything Ezrielk
took to turned out badly? It was because the singing was always there,
in his head and his heart. He prayed and studied, singing. He bought and
sold, singing. He sang day and night. No one heard him, because he was
hoarse, but he sang without ceasing. Was it likely he would be a
successful trader, when he was always listening to what Heaven and earth
and everything around him were singing, too? He only wished he could
have been a slaughterer or a Rav (he was apt enough at study), only,
first, Rabbonim and slaughterers don't die every day, and, second, they
usually leave heirs to take their places; third, even supposing there
were no such heirs, one has to pay "privilege-money," and where is it to
come from? No, there was nothing to be done. Only God could and must
have pity on him and his wife and children, and help them somehow.
Ezrielk struggled and fought his need hard enough those days. One good
thing for him was this--his being a Hostre Chossid; the Hostre
Chassidim, although they have been famed from everlasting as the direst
poor among the Jews, yet they divide their last mouthful with their
unfortunate brethren. But what can the gifts of mortal men, and of such
poor ones into the bargain, do in a case like Ezrielk's? And God alone
knows what bitter end would have been his, if Reb Shmuel Baer, the
Kabtzonivke scribe, had not just then (blessed be the righteous Judge!)
met with a sudden death. Our Ezrielk was not long in feeling that he,
and only he, should, and, indeed, must, step into Reb Shmuel's shoes.
Ezrielk had been an expert at the scribe's work for years and years.
Why, his father's house and the scribe's had been nearly under one roof,
and whenever Ezrielk, as a child, was let out of Cheder, he would go and
sit any length of time in Reb Shmuel's room (something in the occupation
attracted him) and watch him write. And the little Ezrielk had more than
once tried to make a piece of parchment out of a scrap of skin; and what
Jewish boy cannot prepare the veins that are used to sew the
phylacteries and the scrolls of the Law? Nor was the scribe's ink a
secret to Ezrielk.
So Ezrielk became scribe in Kabtzonivke.
Of course, he did not make a fortune. Reb Shmuel Baer, who had been a
scribe all his days, died a very poor man, and left a roomful of hungry,
half-naked children behind him, but then--what Jew, I ask you (or has
Messiah come?), ever expected to find a Parnosseh with enough, really
enough, to eat?