l;layyim Na.l].

man Bialik (1873-1934) is

celebrated as one of the leading figures in
modern Jewish literature. Although most
famous for his Hebrew poems, Bialik was
also a master of Hebrew prose. Often ex­
pressing a realism and social awareness
associated with the Russia of his youth,
Bialik's stories showcase his extraordi­
nary gift for lyricism, his deft use of sym­
bolism, and his sense of humor, captured
in engaging vignettes of life in the
Ukrainian countryside.

David Patterson and Ezra Spicehandler

have combined their formidable literary
talents to produce a new translation of
six of Bialik's novellas. Random Harvest:
The Novellas of Bialik is written in con­
temporary English and takes into ac­
count the large and important corpus of
Bialik criticism that has been published
over the years. This stunning new trans­
lation not only evokes the subtleties of
the original Hebrew, it also reveals nu­
ances that have eluded previous transla­
tors of Bialik's prose.

The novellas in this collection - Random

Harvest, Behind the Fence, The Shamed
Trumpet, Big Harry, The Short Friday,
and The Legend of the Three and Four­
are each accompanied by a brief intro­
duction. In addition, the book contains a
complete glossary, making Random
Harvest the most accessible collection of
Bialik's stories available.
Random Harvest
 MODERN HEBREW CLASSICS

David Patterson, Series Editor

This series presents formative works of lasting significance that

have appeared in Hebrew, as well as more recent critical work. The
series is designed to acquaint the English reader with the quality of
modern Hebrew writing in its period of revival and renaissance and
to reflect the cultural, religious, and social conditions and conflicts
in Jewish life in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries.

Random Harvest: The Novellas of Bialik,

translated by David Patterson and Ezra Spicehandler

The Experienced Soul: Studies in Amichai,

edited by Glenda Abramson

Joseph Perl's Revealer of Secrets: The First Hebrew Novel,

translated with an introduction and notes by Dov Taylor

Tradition and Trauma: Studies in the Fiction of S. J. Agnon,

edited by David Patterson and Glenda Abramson
Random
Harvest
THE NOVELLAS
OF BIALIK

translated by

David Patterson
Ezra Spicehandler

Westview Press
A Member of the Perseus Books Group
Modern Hebrew Classics

The publication of this collection was made possible by the generous assistance of the Institute
for the Translation of Hebrew Literature.

All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this publication may be
reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including
photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in
writing from the publisher.

Copyright © 1999 by Westview Press, A Member of the Perseus Books Group. Copyright ©
for the original works by Dvir Publishing House .

Published in 1999 in the United States of America by Westview Press, 5500 Central Avenue,
Boulder, Colorado 80301-2877, and in the United Kingdom by Westview Press, 12 Hid's
Copse Road, Cumnor Hill, Oxford OX2 911

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Bialik, Hayyim Nahman, 1873-1934.
[Novellas. English. Selections]
Random harvest : the novellas of Bialikltranslated by David
Patterson, Ezra Spicehandler.
p. cm.-(Modern Hebrew classics)
Contents: Random harvest-Behind the fence-The shamed trumpet­
Big Harry-Short Friday-The legend of the three and four.
Includes index.
ISBN 0-8133-6711-5
I. Bialik, Hayyim Nahman, 1873-1934--Translations into English.
I. Patterson, David, 1922- . II. Spicehandler, Ezra. III. Title.
IV. Series.
Pj5053.B5A6 1999
892.4 35--<lc21
· 99-10677

CIP

The paper used in this publication meets the requirements of the American National Standard
for Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials Z39.48-1984.

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2
 Contents

Preface VII

Acknowledgments IX

Introduction

1 Random Harvest 17

2 Behind the Fence 81

3 Big Harry 133

4 The Shamed Trumpet 181

5 Short Friday 211

6 The Legend of the Three and Four 227

Glossary 287
Further Reading 291
Index 293
 Preface

Although J:{ayyim Nahman Bialik is known primarily as a poet­

perhaps the greatest Hebrew poet in the past six hundred years-his
novellas and other fictional prose writings are also of the highest
quality and deserve the attention of a wide reading public.
Four of his stories, translated into English by I. M. Lask, came out
i n New York in 1 93 9 under the title Aftergrowth and Other Stories,
and the same translator had a fifth story appear under the title
"Aryeh the Brawny" in Israel A rgosy 7 in 1 960. Similarly, Herbert
Danby's translation of "The Legend of the Three and Four" was in­
cluded i n And It Came to Pass, published i n New York i n 1 93 8 .
These translations have great merit, but they have been out o f print
and virtually unobtainable for many decades. Moreover, over the
past half century English itself has undergone considerable changes
and acquired a greatly expanded vocabulary.
In the light of these factors, a new translation of Bialik's five novel­
las, together with The Legend of the Three and Four ( Second
Version), seems both appropriate and timely. These works are pre­
sented to the English-language reader in the hope that they may help
to illustrate the quality of modern Hebrew literature in its period of
revival.

David Patterson
Ezra Spicehandler

VII
 Acknowledgments

At every stage in the preparation of this volume we translators

have benefited from the tireless and good-humored efforts of Jackie
Finlay. We would also like to thank the Oxford Centre for Hebrew
and Jewish Studies and particularly the able library staff for their
unfailing and courteous aid.
This book has been published with the assistance of the Institute
for the Translation of Hebrew Literature in Ramat Gan, Israel.
Permission to publish the English translations granted by Zmorah
Bitan Publishers, Tel Aviv, is gratefully acknowledged.

D. P. and E. S.
Oxford and Cincinnati

IX
 Introduction

}:layyim Nahman Bialik ( 1 8 73-1934) is considered to be the

greatest modern Hebrew poet. His career spans a crucial period in
Jewish h istory, and he belongs to the golden age of Eastern
European Hebrew and Yiddish literature.

Biography

Born i n the village of Radi in the Ukrainian province of Volhynia to

a middle-class family that had become impoverished, Bialik was
raised in the nearby town of Zhitomir, whose Jewish community had
still preserved an almost medieval religious culture. He received a
strictly traditional education ( Bible, Talmud, and Midrash) and at
the age of seventeen ( 1 8 9 1 ) was sent to study at the great Yeshivah
(Talmudic academy) of Volozhin. By the time he arrived there, he
had already fallen under the influence of the Haskalah, the Jewish
enlightenment movement, which had aspired to integrate Jews into
the predominant European culture of the countries in which they
resided. The naive Haskalah hopes, however, were shattered by the
Russian government's adoption of reactionary policies following the
assassination of Czar Alexander II in 1 8 8 1 . Most Russian Jews de­
spaired of ever gaining emancipation under the oppressive czarist
regime. M il lions, driven by poverty and d iscri m i nation, began a
mass emigration to Western Europe or to the United States, where
economic and political conditions were more amenable.
A large segment of the Jewish intelligentsia who remained in
Russia was attracted either to its rising revolutionary movements or
to the lfovevei Tsion ( Lovers of Zion), the pre-Zionist movement,
and its call for Jewish auto-emancipation in a reestablished Jewish
2 Introduction

homeland in Ottoman Palestine. Bialik and many of his fellow stu­

dents became supporters of the lfovevei Tsion, and many became
followers of A�ad Ha-am, who advocated a cultural Zionism,
which would primarily attempt to preserve the ethical values of
Judaism by redefining them i n secular terms. Although not fully re­
jecting the political objectives of Zionism, A�ad Ha-am argued that
the post-Haskalah generation had to solve what he called the prob­
lem of Judaism-that is, how to maintain Jewish cohesion in an age
in which religion was losing its sustaining power. He urged that the
primary goal of Zionism be to establish a Jewish center in the an­
cient homeland, which would serve as a focal point for a Jewish cul­
tural renaissance.
Bialik began writing Hebrew poetry even before he left Zhitomir.
Anxious to publish his early poems, he went to Odessa, then the cen­
ter of the Lovers of Zion and a capital of Hebrew letters. During his
first short stay i n Odessa, he met I. H . Ravnitsky, the editor of Ha­
Pardes, an influential �ad Ha-amist journal. Ravnitsky recognized
Bialik's literary talent and agreed to publish one of his earliest po­
ems. Unable to establish himself in Odessa, however, Bialik returned
to Zhitomir. By the time he married in 1 892, he was recognized as
one of the most innovative and talented young Hebrew poets of his
generation. In the 1 890s, he engaged unsuccessfully i n the lumber
business, a trade that both his own family and his father-in-law had
pursued. Like many Hebrew writers of his generation, he was com­
pelled to turn to the teaching of Hebrew for his livelihood.
Nevertheless, Bialik, encouraged by Ravnitsky, first his mentor, then
his close friend and collaborator, continued writing poetry.
Bialik's poems during his early period often reflect his despon­
dency at his " failure" in Odessa and his reluctant return to provin­
cial Zhitomir. Personal anguish is aggravated by his concern for the
sociopolitical state of Russian Jewry:

Who knows how many tears are yet to fall­

What storms will yet descend upon our heads.
Before a good and powerful wind {spirit]
bursts forth
And drives the clouds into the desert
Wiping away the veil obscuring our skies
And blocking our cries from reaching heaven.
'Wandering Afar,
Introduction

His verse is suffused with a deeply passive resigna tion to the

poet's tragic fate:

God has not summoned me to blow the trum-

pet blasts of battle
The very smell of war fills me with terror
I cringe whenever the bugle sounds on high­
Between violin and sword I choose the violin.
"The Song of Israel"

Yet his A�ad Ha-amist hopes at times reinforce his faith in ulti­
mate salvation:

You shall not totter, 0 tent of Shem

From your piles of dust I shall rebuild your
walls . . .
And when I restore God's ruined sanctuary
I'll widen its curtains, cut windows in it.
Then the light will drive away the dark shad-
ows.
And when the covering cloud shall rise, God's
glory shall descend.
"At the Threshold of the Beit Midrash"

I n the great poem of those sad years, " Ha-Matmid" (The Diligent
Talmud Student), while lamenting the seemingly meaningless fixa­
tion of the pious student on archaic texts at the cost of his health
and the suppression of his natural adolescent instincts, he is able to
declare:

And I recall how strong the seed, how healthy

The grain buried in your stunted field . . .
A nd how great the blessing might be wrought
Were a single ray of sunlight to heat it with its
passion.

This faith that the remnant spark of a dying fire, the surviving
seed of an a bandoned and desiccated field, might still be rekindled
into a luminous flame, is the other side of the despair that had dark­
ened the young poet's world.
4 Introduction

In a sense, the hero of his first story, Aryeh Baal Guf (Big Harry),
serves as an antipode ( to use a phrase coined by J acob Fichman) to
the pale, aesthetic Talmud student. Harry's vitality, despite his vul­
garity, almost unwittingly attracted Bialik's imagination.
In 1 900, Bialik finally settled in Odessa and, except for a short
stay in Warsaw, lived in that city until he left Russia in 1 9 2 1 . He
soon became an intimate younger colleague of Al:lad Ha-am and the
important Hebrew and Yiddish writer Mendele Mocher Sefarim.
Within a decade Bialik emerged as a leading figure in the Jewish cul­
tural life of Odessa and in its coterie of Hebrew and Yiddish writers
and intellectuals. With Ravnitsky, he established Moriah, an impor­
tant publisher of Hebrew and Yiddish books. Moriah specialized i n
Hebrew readers a n d children's books-many o f which were written
or scrupulously edited by Bialik himself. Two of its " best-sellers"
were Bialik's poetical works and Sefer ha-Aggadah, the masterful
anthology of Talmudic and Midrashic legends and anecdotes that to
this day enjoys an enthusiastic readership. 1
After the Communist revolution i n 1 9 1 7, Bialik realized that
Jewish culture had no future under an antireligious and anti-Zionist
Bolshevik regime. In 1 92 1 , through the intervention of the Russian
writer Maxim Gorky, who admired his poetry (in Russian transla­
tion), Bialik succeeded in obtaining exit visas for his family and sev­
eral Jewish writers and their families. He moved to Germany, where
he reopened and expanded his publishing house, Moriah, and also
established Dvir, originally devoted to more scholarly works. In
1 924, he was a ble to realize his youthful dream of settling in
Palestine, by then under British Mandate. He moved to Tel Aviv,
transferring his publishing houses to that city. There he became the
leading writer and literary mentor of an entire generation of
Hebrew writers and a major figure in the growing Jewish commu­
nity in Palestine. In 1 933, the entire Jewish world celebrated his six­
tieth birthday. He died the following year and was mourned by
thousands of his ardent admirers.
Bialik was primarily a great Hebrew poet. He began writing as a
Jjibbat Tsion ( Love of Zion) poet, although even then, he tried to
tone down the prevailing sentimentalism and the fine phrasing that

I An English translation of this work, entitled The Book of Legends. was pub­
lished by the Jewish Publication Society, Philadelphia, 1992.
Introduction

characterized most of the works of his older contemporaries. As an

A�ad Ha-amist, he believed that the battle against the old religious
culture had ended and that the central problem was how to enter
the modern world and at the same time preserve and advance the
rich heritage of the Jewish past. In this stage of his career, he be­
lieved, as did A�ad Ha-am, that Hebrew writers should confine
their writings to Jewish themes, although he did write several per­
sonal poems whose contents were more universa l.
During his Odessa period, he increasingly turned to lyrical
themes, writing poems about the inner struggles of the self, the cre­
ative artist, and nature and love. The sun ny, quasi-Mediterranean
Odessa led to somewhat " sunnier" works. Bialik had reached the
peak years of his creative enterprise.
In 1 902, his collected poems finally appeared. The reception was
enthusiastic. Josef Klausner's laudatory review was typical: " Bialik
must be considered to be the Jewish national poet . . . not only a
Hebrew poet, but one who fully (expresses) the Jewish national
spirit. " The volume closed the first phase of his career, largely domi­
nated by poems on Jewish themes. He was, however, moving to a
more subjective, universal period, although he never completely
a bandoned " nation a l " subjects. Victor Ehrlich reminds us that
nineteenth-century Russian poets often saw themselves as prophets
and were viewed as such by their audience.2 The overwhelming im­
pact of the Hebrew prophets upon Hebrew readers led them even
more to endow their " national poet" with the mantle of prophecy­
a role that Bialik frequently declined and yet often assumed. He de­
scribed his Yiddish poem "The Last Word " -as " prophetic. " Its
first line is "I have been sent to you by God . "
As the Haskalah came t o a close, some Hebrew poets began re­
placing the syllabic meter used by their predecessors with the ac­
cented meter prevalent in romantic German and Russian poetry.
Bialik was among the earliest Hebrew poets to adopt this new met­
rical system. However, his stresses followed the Ashkenazic pro­
nunciation of Hebrew, which ignored the biblical accentuation, a
system scrupulously observed by the Sephardic pronunciation and
employed by speakers of modern Hebrew. Although Bialik pre-

2£hrlich, Victor. The Double Image. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins Press, 1 960. Pp.
1 8-20.
6 Introduction

dieted that a later generation of Hebrew reader? might not " hear"
his superb rhythms or be familiar with many of his rhymes, he
used the Ashkenazic pronunciation current in his day in most of
his verse.

Poetry

In Odessa, he composed four long poems (Poemas, as the Russians

called them) : "The Dead of the Wilderness, " "The City of
Slaughter," "The Scroll of Fire," and "The Pond." Of the four, only
the last was purely lyrical, whereas "The City of Slaughter" was
clearly " nationa l . " "The Dead of the Wilderness" and "The Scroll
of Fire" fall somewhere in between. Although they involve national
themes, they do so subtly and symbolically. They can, therefore,
also be read as " universal" poems. "The Dead of the Wilderness"
has the plasticity characteristic of an epic poem. "The Scroll of Fire"
is written in a strongly lyrical vein, with allusions to the poet's per­
sonal struggle with his identity as both a Jew and an artist endowed
with a unique mission.
"The City of Slaughter" ( 1 904) is the longer of two powerful po­
ems composed in the wake of the Kishinev pogrom of 1 903, an
event that, although dwarfed by the Holocaust of the 1 940s, in its
day shocked the entire Western world. It is written in a "prophetic
style"-God addressing the prophet-but is revolutionary because
it turns the traditional Jewish kinah ( lament) on its head. The ac­
cused are not the perpetrators of the massacre or the unforgiving
God who inflicted a deserved punishment upon his wayward peo­
ple, but the bloodless Jews who passively endured bloody outrages
without the courage to resist their savage attackers.
The God of Israel who addresses the poet is reduced to a helpless
bankrupt whose once-great values are ignored by humanity. He is
no longer capable of stemming the gross tide of murder inflicted
upon His chosen people. The poem was immediately translated into
Yiddish and Russian and became the rallying cry that evoked a
more aggressive response to later attacks upon Jews.
"The Dead of the Wilderness" ( 1 902) is based upon a Ta lmudic
legend according to which the members of the generation of the
Exodus, condemned for their insolence against God to perish in the
wilderness and not to enter the promised land, never really died.
Introduction 7

Instead they lay eternally asleep in the desert, ready to rise at re­
demption's call.
The poem opens with a powerful description of the army of dead
warriors stretched rank upon rank in the scorched desert sands.
Periodically they are attacked by predators: an eagle, a lion, and a
snake, but each retreats before striking the valiant army, repelled by
the power and majesty it exudes. According to Numbers 14-IS, the
warriors, upon hearing God's cruel decree, attempt to advance up
the hill country toward Canaan in revolt but God cruelly crushes
their mutiny. Bialik expands the story and has the Israel ites rise in
revolt against God several times in different historical epochs, only
to be repulsed each time and return subdued to their slumber. At
times the desert, too, rises in stormy rebellion against its Creator:
"[It] wakens to avenge the desolation imposed by Him. Dares to
pour out the basin on His face . . . and wreak havoc upon His
world, restore chaos upon His throne."
One may read the poem " straight" as a magnificent epic poem. F.
Lachover, in consonance with his generation, gives it a national in­
terpretation.3 The dead, he suggests, symbolize the dormant Jewish
people confined to exile, yet possessing a latent power that from
time to t i me impels them to revolt against their fate, attempt to
force God's hand and regain their freedom. The predators, he con­
tends, are symbols representing Israel's oppressors: Egypt-the
snake; Babylon-the lion; Rome-the eagle ( these symbols are
found in the Bible and Midrashic l iterature ).
Others have suggested that the poem is a hymn celebrating man's
Promethean struggle against the restrictions imposed by God, the
Creator-humanity's eternal struggle to alter the natural order with
the power of science and intellect.
Like Yehuda Halevi, his great medieval predecessor, Bialik ex­
pressed his dissatisfaction with the alien metrics and rhyme patterns
adopted by Hebrew poetry throughout the ages. Despite his mastery
of these forms, Bialik felt that they often j arred the natural cadences
of the Hebrew language. On various occasions he composed poems
in free verse but usually reverted to the accepted European models.
"The Scroll of Fire" ( 1 90 5 ) was his boldest experiment to free his
poetry from these conventions.

3Lachover, Fischel. Bialik lfayyav Vitsirotav ( Vol. 2). Tel Aviv: Dvir, 1 950. Pp.
400-406.
8 Introduction

During his relatively short stay in 1 904 in W_;1rsaw where, for a

time, he served as the literary editor of Ha-Shiloah, he may have read
some of the great Polish national poets-Adam Mickiewicz, Juliusz
Slowacki, Jan Kasimierz, and Krasinski-and been impressed by
their recourse to ancient Polish myths and folklore. He probably also
came across the prose poems of the Russian and European symbol­
ists and neoromantics. Yet the form he chose for "The Scroll of Fire"
was essentially his own. He described it as "a mosaic of legends re­
worked by his imagination. " The basic plot had its archetype "in the
quest for the Holy Grail." He drew upon two older Jewish myths:
the first was the rescue of the holy fire from the destroyed Temple of
Jerusalem, as related in Maccabees 1 : 1 8-2: 1 3 and retold in the me­
dieval Chronicle of ]osipon. The prophet Jeremiah rescued the sa­
cred fire that had descended from heaven and carried it to Babylonia,
where he hid it in a cave. There it remained until Ezra and Nehemiah
rebuilt the Temple and restored it to its new altar. The second was
the Talmudic and Midrashic legend about two hundred youths and
two hundred maidens who were taken captive by the Romans at the
fall of Jerusalem to be enslaved as prostitutes in Roman brothels.
Apprised of this scheme, the chaste maidens leaped to their death
into the sea and the youths followed suit ( Babylonian Talmud 75b
and Midrash to Lamentations 1 :45 ).
In Bialik's version, the act of rescuing and concealing the fire re­
curs following the destruction of the Second Temple ( 70 C.E. ) . This
time the holy fire is salvaged by an angel, who is also charged to
guard " the cup of tears" shed by God whenever Jews suffered.
When filled to the brim, the cup signals redemption. The angel flies
with the flame to a desert island and places it atop a craggy hill.
God orders him to guard the fire as well as the " Hind of Dawn," the
symbol of the Jewish people and its messianic hopes. Shortly there­
after the two hundred youths and the two hundred maidens taken
by the Romans are cast away on an arid desert island. The groups
are placed on either side of a deep ravine through which a perilous
river flowed. Among the youths, two tall males of equal height
stand out above the others. One is a gentle youth whose clear eyes
are fixed upon the sky as if he is seeking for the star of his life; the
other is a wrathful young man with sullen eyes cast down upon the
earth, searching for what his soul has lost.
The bright-eyed youth appears to represent the optimistic aspect
of Jewish history, and the dark-eyed youth, Jewish despair and loss
Introduction

of hope. In various works, Bialik referred to the negative rea(tion

that persecution and anti-Semitism provokes among despairing
Jews-the other side of Jewish messianism. If God or man denies
them salvation, its frustrated vi(tims should turn to terrorism, an at­
tempt to undermine Western (ivil ization from within. The hright­
eyed young man rejects this spirit of despa ir and (a ils instead for a
song of consolation and recon(i liation, for ultimate salvation.
Before the bright-eyed young man sets out on his quest, he sud­
denly sees the maidens across the chasm, marching in single fi le,
hands outspread to the sky, eyes moonstruck, heads crowned with
thorns. Oblivious of the danger threatening them, they reach the
edge of the ravine and tumble like a flight of white ostriches into the
abyss below. The youths leap after them in a vain attempt at rescue.
All drown. Suddenly a heavy, black object floats after the drowned
bodies. Is it a ship or a coffin?
Only the chosen, clear-eyed youth survives.
After much agony and many trials, tribulations, and temptations,
he finally reaches the craggy cliff on top of which glows the holy fire.
Of all the obstacles he meets on the way, temptation is the most
onerous. He constantly encounters two maidens-one a pure-eyed,
innocent maiden over whose head the Hind of Dawn hovers; the
other, a luscious, earthy, seductive maiden, whose image is reflected
in the dark waters of the abyss. Both struggle for his soul. During his
j ourney, he also encounters an elderly holy man who teaches him
how to overcome his passion for the earthy maiden by devotion to
religious asceticism. The youth seems to evade temptation and ulti­
mately reaches the holy fire. However, j ust as he seizes it, he again
succumbs to the allure of the lusty maiden and leaps after her into
the abyss. He has failed.
Unlike the other youths, however, he survives. The dark waters
carry him to the shores of a distant land. He becomes a wandering
exile among his brothers, suffering with them and, at times, showing
them great compassion.

And when his heart oppressed him very much and his great dreams
and true torments found him . . . he would go out of the city and sit
under a desert bush raising his eyes toward the Hind of Dawn, search­
ing for her image in the waters of the river . . . and looking at the void
within his heart, facing the world in silence with his great grief, the
grief of the individual.
10 Introduction

And the young angel . . . charged to guard tbe Hind of Dawn,

would quietly tip the cup of silent grief, dropping from it one drop af­
ter the other, in the quiet dawn.

The two youths seem to symbolize the two possibilities of salva­

tion-a hopeful, optimistic, and creative course or a pessimistic,
vengeful, and destructive course. Bialik himself hinted that the
camps represented the gap between two different manifestations of
Judaism. This has been taken by some to mean the difference be­
tween Western European Jewry-in Bialik's time-optimistic and
enlightened, and Eastern European Jewry-pious, mystical, and of
isolationist mentality.
Baruch Kurzweil has argued that the poem should be read on two
levels. 4 It depicts the inner conflict that Bialik had experienced
throughout his life-between his profound sense of mission as a
poet called to give voice to his people's tragedy and its struggle to­
ward its national renaissance, and his personal predilection as an
artist seeking to express his selfhood. The maidens symbolize the
eros-passion, beauty, nature; the youths and the old sage represent
the puritanism of the Jewish tradition-ascetic, ethical, and devout.
The subject of the poem is the age-old conflict between the Hellenic
view of life and the Jewish view. The two maidens also represent the
conflicting attractions of the eros itself-the innocent, angelic fe­
male as against her seductive, sensual counterimage. For Kurzweil,
the destruction of the Temple all udes to the destruction of tradi­
tional Judaism by the forces of modernity ( European civilization).
The flame salvaged by the angel symbolizes the core of Judaism that
Ai:lad Ha-amists had hoped to salvage by giving Judaism a moral,
positivist, and historical interpretation. The failure of the youth to
hold on to the flame expresses Bialik's fear that Ahad Ha-amism
might fail to salvage the holy fire.
In "The Pond " ( 1 904-1 905 ) Bialik is at his lyrical best. He be­
gan the poem while in Wa rsaw. Members of Warsaw's corps of
Hebrew and Yiddish authors were more " Europea n " than the
staid Odessans and subj ect to the influences of the neoromantic
and symbolist literary trends that had begun to dominate conti­
nental writing:

4Kurzwcil, Baruch. Bialik ve Chernikhowsky (Bialik and Chernikhowsky). Tel

Aviv: Schock en, 1 967. l'p. 47-S 1 .
Introduction I I

In the thick foliage, isolated from the world,

In the shadow of a tall oak, blessed by light
and taught by storms,
It {the pond{ dreams alone of an ufJside down
world spawning its golden fish,
Yet who knows what is in its heart?

Are these echoes of Dante's forest, symbols for the turbulent visi­
ble world-and does the pond, the mirror reflecting the forest and
contemplating its true essence, signify the mind and heart of the
artist?
The poem's theme is the dilemma of the artist who in childhood
experienced the world as a unified whole but, with maturity, has lost
this sense of wholeness. In Bialik's generation this dysfunction is
linked to the loss of faith in God. The artist (the pool) is (or holds
up) a magic mirror to the universe, restoring its shattered unity.
Yet Bialik at times doubted whether this quasi-Platonic idea could
indeed fill the void left by this severance.

But who knows perhaps it [the pond] dreams

secretly
And that only in vain does the prince wander
Searching in the primeval forest, in desert
sands, and sea beds
For a lost princess

"The Pond " is structured in patterns of contrasts: morning, then

moonlit night, a stormy day, and a serene dawn. It closes with a lyri­
cal i ntrusion of the speaker's self, shifting the discourse from the
third person to the first.

In my youth . . .
When the wings of the Shekinah first fluttered
over my head
And my heart knew how to yearn unto death

Seeking a refuge for its prayers,

I would sail forth in the heat of a summer's day
To the glorious kingdom of serenity-
To the forest's thicket.
12 Introduction

Among God's trees that never heard tbe sound

of an ax .. . ,
I would wander for endless hours
Alone with my heart and my God until
I came upon
The forest's holy of holies . . .
Inside the curtain of leaves
Is a small green island, soft with grass
. . . Secluded, as if it were a world by itself,
A sacred shrine . . .
Of venerable forest trees . . .
Its ceiling-a small blue dome . . .
Its floor-glass: a pond of lucid water,
A silver mirror framed in wet grass
Containing . . . a second universe.

The poem closes with a hymn, which translates the array of im­
ages into the secret language of the gods. It is a secret, wondrous,
soundless language in which God reveals Himself to His elect. It is a
language i n which the Ruler of the World contemplates His pro­
foundest thoughts and in which the creative artist gives concrete
form to the meditations of his heart, finding in it the solution to an
ineffable dream. It is indeed language of imagery.
And here follows a rich catalog of contrasting visual images: the
broad strip of blue sky and its expanse, the white and black little
clouds; the tremor of a golden stand of wheat, the stature of a cedar;
the flutter of a dove's white wing, the soaring pinions of an eagle;
the beauty of a man's body, the brilliance of the eye's glance; the
wrath of a sea, the gay mischief of its waves; the silence of falling
stars, and so on.

In this language, the language of all languages,

The pond spells its never-ending riddle to me.
And secreted in the shade, bright, serene, and
silent
Seeing everything and seen by everything
within it,
It seemed to me to be the open eyelid of the
prince of the forest, great in mystery
And steeped in thought.
Introduction I >

Stories

At the urging of his colleagues Bialik aga in returneJ to writing prose

fiction. This was in keeping with Russian literary traJitions. Great
poets like Pushkin and Lermentov wrote not only poetry hut works
of fiction as wel l.
Men dele Mocher Sefarim ( 1 !l35-1917) was the most important
writer of Hebrew and Yiddish fiction at the time. He was influenceJ
by the social realism that pervaded contemporary Russian letters-a
realism with a satirical bent that lashed out at the social problems a f­
flicting Russian society. He realized that writing in the lofty classical
Hebrew style then used by his contemporaries to describe the impov­
erished and folksy masses of Russian Jewry was awkward and inap­
propriate. Thus Mendele, who began as a Hebrew writer, shifted to
writing his works in Yiddish, the spoken language of his cha racters.
In the 1 8 80s, however, in response to the prompting of many of his
Hebrew writing colleagues ( including Bialik), he began adapting, not
merely translating, his Yiddish works into Hebrew. To do so, he felt
he had to fashion a new modern Hebrew idiom that blended the
"high " Hebrew style of the Bible with the " lower," more mundane,
Hebrew of Rabbinic literature. This newly forged medium was
seized upon by the fiction writers of Bialik's generation and became
"the style" in which many of them wrote their stories and novels.
Bialik never completely confined his prose writing to " the style."
Although a number of h i s fictional works were influenced by
Mendele's astute combination of realism and satire bordering on the
grotesque, even in Bialik's earliest stories (Big Harry, for example),
his writing is more objective and his satire modulated by a certain
empathy for the butts of his humor. His cast of characters also in­
cluded men and women who were less " lumpen proletariat" than
those who inhabited Mendele's world. Raised as he was in a family
of lumber dealers, he often depicted the milieu of middle-class mer­
chants and dealers, who were more representative of his generation.
Moreover, whereas Mendele does include gentiles in his cast of
characters, they are, on the whole, alien " types" rather than real in­
dividuals. Bialik, too, maintained a certain "distance" in his treat­
ment of gentile figures, but he had a more intimate knowledge of
them (see Big Harry, The Shamed Trumpet, and Behind the Fence).
He w a s also attracted b y the growing symbolist movement. His
extraordinary command of all facets of traditional Hebrew litera-
14 1 ntroduction

ture was skillfully mined. As he reached the zenith of his career,

both his poetry and prose writing were enriched by the use of inter­
textuality. His subtle employment of these subtexts appealed to his
many Hebrew readers who, like him, were well acquainted with the
various levels of Jewish literature. Bialik's symbolic catalog includes
references to the animal world-snakes (original sin), eagles or
hawks ( i deals, optimism), lions ( righteous anger), deer, does, and
fawns ( positive signs), sun, sunsets, white clouds ( vision, natural
beauty), the pool or pond (the inner world of the artist). These mo­
tifs repeat themselves throughout his works.
In reading the novellas, the reader will become aware of the devel­
opment of Bialik's narrative skill. In B ig Harry Bialik's style is
slightly marred by digressions and lengthy descriptive passages.
Works like The Shamed Trumpet and particularly Behind the Fence
are more tautly constructed. Short Friday is a charming, humorous
portrayal of the naive world of a country Rabbi and is free of any
digressions.
Elements of social realism abound in Bialik's stories. Referring to
Big Harry in a letter to AJ:tad Ha-am, Bialik asserted that Harry
was a " new type," not yet described in modern Hebrew litera­
ture-a brawny, self-confident, and ignorant entrepreneur. Harry's
son, Moshe " the Candidate" ( the sobriquet given to him by his fa­
ther), is portrayed as a social-climbing young man who imitates in
manner and mien the elegant and cultured members of the Polish
gentry.
A whole galaxy of non-Jewish types populate Bialik's prose
works: the peasant friends of Harry and Noah (Behind the Fence};
the faithful, quasi-"Judaized" servant Yavdoha, totally familiar with
Jewish customs and traditions, Styupe, the loyal jack-of-all-trades,
both employed by Yose the village Jew, and the peasant boy who is
sent to J:teder to learn how to read and write at least in Hebrew (The
Shamed Trumpet}; the lovely Marinka and her witchlike anti­
Semitic "Auntie" (Behind the Fence}; Ivan, Reb Getzel's street-smart
servant (Short Friday}; and Makarka, Noah's bosom friend (Behind
the Fence). This cast of gentile characters also includes the various
officials, high and low, ranging from sympathetic, apathetic, to hos­
tile, whom Yose "the villager" must court, cajole, and bribe in his
vain effort to remain in the countryside (The Shamed Trumpet).
Of course, greater attention is given to Jewish characters: Harry,
his sons, and his social-climbing wife; Alter-Harry's angry and vir-
Introduction IS

ulent competitor; and the "fine Jews " (Big Harry); Noa h, the Jewish
child and adolescent, with his gentilelike love of nature and sport,
his conventional parents, his classmates, his cynical and lusty tutor
(Behind the Fence}; the world of the Jewish children (The Shamed
Trumpet and Random Harvest}; the stern and a husive fathers, the
caring Yiddishe marne (Random Harvest and Behind the fence); the
naively religious Pesach-Itzi, the dairyman (The Shamed TrumfJel);
and Reb Getzel, the tax collector.
Bialik's fiction concentrated upon those elements of the Volhynian
Jewish milieu most familiar to him: the Jewish lumher dealers, the
village Jews in charge of tree cutting or the smelting of ta r, the reli­
gious functionaries: Rabbi Lippa (Short Friday), the pious but naive
Rabbi; Reb Gadi, the sho/:Jet (The Shamed Trumpet); the innkeeper,
the poverty-stricken, incompetent, and often cruel melamdim. We
may note Bialik's penchant for the simple, unlearned Jewish classes,
despite the fact that he himself was raised in the home of his erudite
and moderately prosperous grandfather, had studied at a prestigious
Yeshivah, and in his youth associated with Zhitomir's intellectual
elite. Like his contemporary, Shalom Aleichem, his attitude to the
"common folk " was on the whole sympathetic rather than critical,
his humor more ironic than satirical.
His later prose writings were no longer constrained by traditional
literary techniques. In Random Harvest he records his pseudoauto­
biographical memoirs, giving free rein to his brilliant poetic imagi­
nation, with seemingly little concern for the structural demands of
what may have been a novel he had planned to write. The unstable
conditions in Russia during World War I and especially during the
Bolshevik revolution, his subsequent immigration to Germany and
finally to British Palestine, his m ultifarious activities as publisher,
scholar, and active participant in communal affairs also did not al­
low h i m the leisure requ ired for the writing of so long a work .
Indeed his literary output during that whole period was quite scant.
Such works as he managed to write were shorter literary pieces, in­
cluding several remarkable children's stories.
As the coeditor of Sefer ha-Aggadah (The Book of Legends),
Bialik had a profound knowledge of the vast repository of Talmudic
and Midrashic materials. In his many children's stories he had
drawn upon these legends, revised and expanded them. He was par­
ticularly attracted to the legends about King Solomon, whose reign
marked the golden period of the ancient Davidic monarchy.
16 Introduction

The Legend of the Three and Four, written several years before
his death, is an exciting experimental-symbolist work. Its semiar­
chaic Hebrew style is disarming. Bialik resorted to ostensibly older
forms of Hebrew literature to write this quasi-allegorical story, open
to a rich variety of interpretations. It is a veritable masterpiece.
Modern Hebrew literature has canonized Bialik as its greatest
writer. His writings express the yearnings of the modern Jew for a
synthesis of the hallowed traditions and ideals of a dynamic Jewish
culture that evolved over three millennia and the Helleno-European
culture that has permeated the modern world. His poetry deals with
the crisis engendered by the loss of faith and the endeavor to salvage
those elements of a religious tradition and a rich literary heritage
that remain relevant in a modern age. It expresses the despair of
those who, shattered by the decline of religious belief, lose the sense
of wholeness, and the quest not only for a new reading of ancient
texts, but also for a renaissance of Jewish culture in the new-old na­
tional home. It both personalizes and universalizes the tragedy and
the quest. Although the world he described has long ago sadly dis­
appeared and been replaced by the new, dynamic, but often brash,
Israeli society, Bialik has retained much of his relevance because of
his compelling literary achievement.
 1
Random Harvest

CJ\g ndom Harvest is an incomplete work of fiction. Seven

chapters (2-8) appeared in 1 90 8 in Ha-Shiloab , the literary
journal on which Bialik once served as literary editor. Seven ad­
ditional chapters ( 9- 1 5 ) were published in 1 9 1 9, and the open­
ing chapter appeared in 1 92 3 .
Some scattered prose fragments found among Bialik's literary
remains deal with a young man called Shmulik, the very name
of the hero of Random Harvest. It would seem that Bialik had
intended to write " the novel of his generation" but never fin­
ished it.
Although Random Harvest contains some autobiographical
elements, it is a fictionalized autobiography. Bialik had occa­
sion to criticize those readers who naively took everything he
wrote in the first person to be autobiographical. Zeva Shamir, a
noted Bialik scholar, goes as far as to claim that Bialik " in­
vented" a mythological autobiography that actually was a por­
trayal of the life of a typical product of the shtetl rather than a
real account of his own life. This mythologizing, she claims, ex­
tended to Bialik's so-called autobiographical notes, such as his
letter to Joseph Klausner. Even these alleged memoirs deal with
stereotypical experiences that any one of his contemporaries
may have had. She makes much of Bialik's description of his
cruel schoolmaster and particularly of his stern father and of
the putative poverty his family had suffered after his father's
early death. Bialik actually came from a middle-class family; his

17
18 Random Harvest

widowed mother was never reduced to peddling in the town's

marketplace (as he depicts her in one of his poems) . He himself
denied this last point. However, many of the incidents he de­
scribed, particularly those reflecting the i nner world of the
imaginative child who was destined to become an important
poet, have the ring of truth.
The Hebrew title Bialik gave to this work is Safia/:7, a biblical
term designating the aftergrowth of random fruits and vegeta­
bles following the Sabbatical year (when the fields in ancient
Israel were left fallow [Leviticus 23:5] )-hence our title
Random Harvest. Bialik gave this term an additional connota­
tion. He may have borrowed it from the Hebrew poet Judah
Leib Gordon, who described the Hebrew writers and readers
of his generation as sefi/:Jim, " the orphans of humankind,
abandoned by their fathers and mothers . . . men incapable of
any (productive) trade or who occupy themselves with out­
landish matters. " Bialik, too, extended this term not only to re­
fer to the random chapters of this work but also to label his
protagonist: "And before I begin to recount a little bit from
here and there, a few chapters from the meanderings of the in­
ner life, and the true dreams of a random son of Israel, may I
be permitted to relate, without apparently any obvious connec­
tion to what has gone before or what will come later . . . "

Actually, most of the first segment ( Chapters 1-6) forms a

well-structured, lyrical, and fictionalized account of the narra­
tor's earlier years in the village of his birth. Of these the first
chapter is artistically the most moving, depicting the discovery
of the future poet's "self" :

How true the saying is that a man sees and perceives only once: in
childhood! The first visions, in that same innocence as on the day
when they left the Creator's hand, they are the real essence and
the very stuff of life; and those impressions that follow are sec­
ondary and deficient, seemingly like the first, but weak reflections
of them, and not genuine. And from my flesh I saw this.

These primary visions are lost once the narrator leaves the vil­
la ge (his chi lJhood EJen) and moves to the pitch-makers' quar­
ter of the city ( Exile). "IMiy world darkened a little and its radi­
ance faJeJ. In our new place of residence on the outskirts of the
Random Harvest 19

town, gray and noisy days confronted me, the life of a Jewish
townlet with its vexation, anger, and unpleasantness . " . . .
He recalls the rural lan dscape he was forced to leave: the
green hillock with its two tiny white houses, the splendor of its
sunset, the glory of its forests, the village pond that " sparkles
at the side of the hill like a bright mirror, " and above all his
wondrous dream of walking in a tumultuous band of people,
wagons, and beasts of bu rden trudging along a sandy road.
Everyone is returning from an unsuccessful fair, and they are
disgruntled, bickering with and shouting at one another. He is
dragged along with the throng. Suddenly he fi nds himself
alongside a stream, separated from the mob by a curtain of
reeds. Through a break, he sees the image of a "mysterious
creature" sitting alone beyond the barrier on the grassy bank
of a stream, undisturbed by the passing caravan. He ponders
the mystery as he finds himself separated from both the crowd
and the en igmatic stranger. S uddenly it dawns u pon him:
" Surely I know him, surely I have been with him. Surely he is
very, very close to me and to my soul. Surely he and I are one . "
The dream is about the self-image o f the artist in society, and
the conflict between his yearning to express his unique "self"
while bound to the social milieu in which he dwells and to its
demands upon his heart and his mind.
The remaining chapters of Random Harvest do not quite
reach the lyrical quality of the first. With ironic humor they de­
scribe the awakening curiosity of the gifted child, his wonder
at the riddle of the mirror, his inability to read the symbols of
the alphabet. He is taught them in a conventional way but
gives each letter his private and richly imaginative reading. He
struggles against the obtuseness and conventionalism of his
Hebrew teachers and the incessant taunting of his classmates.
His teachers and his father are epitomic representations of the
severe discipline and the rigorous proscriptions of the religious
law. He tells of his fascination with sunsets, his fear of fire, his
dream of encountering a band of dwarfs.
In the second group, the sketches lose their temporal and
logical order. They continue with descriptions of a n inspiring
and imaginative schoolteacher; they depict fascination with the
biblical narratives, which, in the mind of the child, become
part of his immediate experience. He describes his life as a
20 Random Harvest

schoolboy, his encounter with peasant boys, the awakening of

his libido-- i nvolving both his attraction to the lusty peasant
girls and his memories of an idealized puppy love affair.
Bialik refers briefly to the village pond that became a recur­
rent motif in his poetry and to which he devoted his long poem
"The Pond. " Scholars have disagreed as to the symbolic mean­
ing of the pond. For some, relying on Bialik's autobiographical
letter to Klausner, it represents the mind or soul of the artist,
which converts the illusory reality of the world into a truly
metaphysical or aesthetic reality. Others argue that Bialik's re­
alism precludes such a reading and suggest that the pond serves
as the repository of the visions and images that are absorbed
by the artist. They base their interpretation on a passage that
appears in our text (Chapter 1):

Hardly had I bared to the heavens the little windows of my soul, my

two eyes, when the visions of God came streaming unsummoned from
the four winds. Sometimes they would well up to me from the depths
of silence, in shapes such as appear in dreams or in the waters of a
clear pool. There was no speech and no words--only a vision.

Random Harvest is a brilliant unfinished poem in prose writ­

ten at the height of Bialik's career. The translators have tried to
convey something of the magic of the original Hebrew.
 1

M Y NA T IV E VI LLAG E AND M Y D R EAM

I cannot remember how many summers and winters passed from the
earliest moments I can recall in my native village until the time when
my family took me to live in a suburb of the nearby town. As a little
child, apparently not yet five years old, I was left to play on the
garbage heap. But what sense of time does an infant have? In my na­
tive village the laws of nature never changed. The seasons came
round at their proper time, and everything went on as usual. But
that first early world I brought with me from the village, which is
still concealed in its own special place in the recesses of my heart­
that strange world, wonderful and unique-seems to contai n no
trace of autumn or winter. The whole village of those days, as far as
my eye could reach, composed one single tract-and all of it pure
summer. The sky was a summer sky, the earth a summer earth.
Plants and animals were all summer; and Feigele, too, Feigele, a girl
of my own age, my one companion in the whole village-she too
was all summer. I can recall only one iron, wintry day of ice and
frost, standing apart, cruel and angry, like a robber armed with an
ax; and near it, cast aside in the mud like a trampled corpse, another
solitary rain-swept day, melting with distress and dripping sorrow.
But these are mere exceptions, blemishes. The world in all its purity,
the one that stretches from the grass i n the wall of our little house to
the green grove that screens the eye at the end of the village-that
world is all summer.
Here before me on this backdrop of blue skies and green grass are
embroidered the pictures of my world in those first days; wonderful
pictures, light and serene as pure mists, half secrets and half dreams­
and nevertheless no scenes as bright and clear as they are, nor any real­
ity as real. They are my soul's basic, elemental scenes, bestowed upon

21
 Random Harvest

me freely from the skies, a gift of God and His goodness, because of
mv tender years and helplessness, my dumbness, and my heart's pin­
ing. I was little and tender and left to myself. I knew not how to ask or
even call things by their names; nor was there anyone at hand to open
mv mouth and rouse my spirit, to take me by the hand or come to my
c�rner. Like a forsaken fledgling I wandered alone about my nest; my
father and mother left me to myself and there was no one else to look
after me. Then God in His mercy took me under the shelter of His
wings and allowed me to sit quietly at His footstool and play gently
with the fringes of His garment and the edges of His mantle. By day
He sent His hidden angels to amuse me with fancies and bring a smile
to my lips, which no one saw; and by night He sent His little dwarfs to
play before me by the light of the moon and banish fear from me, but
no one heard. He set them all about me, seeing but unseen, placing
them in every dark corner and in every lowly hollow, to fill my soul
with the sweet dread and awe of God.
His hidden hand sowed all my paths with wonders and placed
riddles in everything upon which my eye alighted. Every stone and
pebble, every splinter of wood, was a n i nexplicable text, and i n
every ditch and hollow eternal secrets lurked. How can a spark be
contained in a mute stone, and who puts the dumb shadows on the
house walls? Who heaps up the fiery mountains in the skirts of
heaven, and who holds the moon i n the thickets of the forest ?
Whither stream the caravans o f clouds, a n d whom does the wind i n
the field pursue? Why does m y flesh sing in the morning, a n d what
is the yearning in my heart at evening time ? What is wrong with the
waters of the spring that they weep quietly, and why does my heart
leap at the sound ? These wonders were all about me, caught me up,
passed over my poor little head-and refuge or escape there was
none. They widened my eyes and deepened my heart, until I could
sense mysteries even in commonplace things and secrets everywhere.
Hardly had I bared to the heavens the little windows of my soul,
my two eyes, when the visions of God came streaming unsummoned
from the four winds. Sometimes they would well up to me from the
depths of silence, in shapes such as appear in dreams or in the wa­
ters of a clear pool. There was no speech and no words--only a vi­
sion. Such utterance as there was came without words or even
sou nds. It was a mystic utterance, especially created, from which all
sound had evaporated, yet which still remained. Nor did I hear it
with my ears, hut it entered my soul through another medium. In
Random Harvest 23

the same way a mother's tenderness and loving gaze penetrate the
soul of her ba by, asleep in the cradle, when she stands over him anx­
ious and excited-and he knows nothing. And sometimes the vi­
sions came interwoven with fragments and combinations of sounds.
The noises of the cosmos are legion, differing one from another in
countless aspects. Who can fathom their meaning or understand
their nature ? The sounds of day and the sounds of night, whether
impudent or modest, whether bold or faint, long drawn out, and
suddenly cut short. The cry of a drowning man at the end of the
earth, or the groan of murder hovering in the forest. To me they
seem like disembodied spirits, the messengers of God, bearing His
word, wandering to and fro on the wings of the wind, speeding ar­
rowlike from one hiding place to the next, peeking out for a mo­
ment and disappearing suddenly; one cannot perceive them come
and go, and the eye cannot discern them. And there were times
when I heard the silence and saw the voices, for as yet my senses had
neither bounds nor li mits, but each encroached upon the other.
Sound drew sight after it and sight, sound and scent-both of them.
As yet I knew neither rhythm nor measure. The little mound in the
field was a mountain; the pond, an ocean; the end of the village, the
horizon of the earth.
How true the saying is that a man sees and perceives only once: in
childhood! The first visions, in that same innocence as on the day
when they left the Creator's hand, they are the real essence and the
very stuff of life; and those impressions that follow are secondary
and deficient, seemingly like the first, but weak reflections of them,
and not genu ine. And from my flesh I saw this. All the sights of
heaven and earth, which I have blessed throughout my life, have re­
ceived no nourishment except from the power of that first vision. In
later life I have seen the skies of Italy in all their azure sweetness.
My feet have trod the heights of the Swiss mountains. The sight of
them enchanted me. But when have I known a sweeter blue than
this ? Where have I seen mountains loftier and more magnificent
than these? Whenever I see the sun rise or set i n all its brilliance, I
stand amazed. But surely I have seen the sun rise and set even more
splendidly, with even greater wonder! And when I pass across a
green field, I know not why the sight of grass flashes for a moment
before my eyes, the sight of that same grass, which first I saw in the
village, when I was still attached to my old nurse-God grant she
rest in peace! It was fresh and lush, alive and new, half-submerged
24 Random Haroest

in the limpid water, sown with little flowers delightful to the eyes,
pushing their yellow, dew-flecked heads out of the grass, with a sin­
gle pearl-like tear quivering in the eye of every one of them.
After we left the village to live elsewhere-! was about five years
old at the time-my world darkened a little and its radiance faded. In
our new place of residence on the outskirts of the town, gray and
noisy days confronted me, the life of a Jewish townlet with its vexa­
tion, anger, and unpleasantness; and the greater the human tumult
about me, the more I shrank into myself and the more the festive ex­
altation of my heart ebbed away. The ignorant melamdim into whose
hands I fell, with their scowling faces and their straps, drove away my
childhood visions. Those first heavenly reflections no longer appeared
to me except when they encountered me alone, away from the daily
tumult and the teachers' realm. They hid behind some curtain, and
from time to time they would dart glances at me to revive my fancies
and renew their power. Peeking out for a moment and disappearing,
peeking out-and disappearing. Drop by drop, like some precious
elixir of life, the splendor of those wonderful days dripped into my
heart, and from my childhood world there appeared to me only bits
and pieces as time passed by. Suddenly out of the air, fragments of
pictures would blossom forth, severed pieces from the past: a distant
patch of sky in pristine purity, a strip of earth at the beginning of
spring, a rich, black fragrant strip-primeval earth, suddenly protrud­
ing from beneath a blanket of cold snow with its body still trembling.
A lonely, deserted hut in an abandoned cucumber field. A glowing
sunset at the edge of the firmament. The sound of howling from the
forest. The eerie shriek of a bird at night. The moon suspended over a
chimney on some roof. A festival minyan in my father's house, and a
band of frightened youngsters bursting into the house and crying,
"Wolves in the village ! " And nearby-Jews dressed in their prayer
shawls standing on the topmost roofs looking toward the forest in
search of wolves, stretching their hands into the air and making
threatening bearlike sounds, "Ahoo-oo! Ahoo-oo! " Suddenly Feigele,
too, is here. She herself! Hiding behind the old oak tree, thrusting out
her head at me for a moment and crying, "Cuckoo ! "
Indeed i n the sweet moments o f divine inspiration, when the heart
is as full and juicy as a ripe grape and the channels of mercy suddenly
open of their own accord, it is enough for me to close my eyes for a
moment, and there appear before me, like lightning flashes, all the
paths of my life from its beginning, shimmering in the pure white
Random Harvest 25

glow that illumines them from end to end. At such a moment the vi­
sion of my native village will suddenly appear and stand before me
just as it was, in all its kindly grace and all its pristine splendor. Like a
fiery palm, a swift hidden hand, it suddenly appears and presents me
with the essence of my childhood, the sum of days and years, all
folded and enclosed in a little sheath of one split second. I see again
precisely the houses from the morning of my life, the site of my first
childhood, in all their fullness and with the un iverse surrounding
them, all at once both great and small, with nothing missing-and
once again I savor the taste of that first vision. Wherever it is, in some
forgotten corner of Volhynia, from a haunt of reeds and swamps,
from a place of endless forests, my native village suddenly appears,
together with its days and nights, its festivals and Sabbaths, and all
the fixed ceremonies of its year, looking j ust as God created it: small,
peaceful, and humble. It stands there still, j ust as it has stood in its
confined space from the six days of creation, half on the plain and
half on the slope, hidden in the shade of bushes and trees and sur­
rounded by its gardens and cucumber fields, bearing with quiet grief
the burden of its chaste existence, quietly-as it always has done.
Nothing i n it has changed, not a pebble is missing, the very same clay
houses and low wooden shacks strewn about the valley and the hill
like startled flocks of sheep; the same silent grove plotting against me
in the distance behind the village, with its cold darkness; and that
very same green hill lies in front of me right opposite my father's
house like some ravening, terrifying beast or some wild ox on the
path, swallowing everyday at twilight a whole golden orb-the set­
ting sun-a whole golden orb every single evening; the very pond that
sparkles at the side of the hill like a bright mirror, where ducks purify
and sanctify themselves, upending every few moments, ducking their
heads in the water with tails toward the sky; those very paths, wrig­
gling like serpents through fields and pastures, losing themselves with
endless yearning in the hidden distance.
All the festivals of the year stand quietly before me as in a dream.
Sabbath and weekday, summer and winter, days of contentment and
times of anger, daytime j oys and terrors of the night, they and their
fragments and the fragments of their fragments, all things and their
opposites beside them, j oi n together-without canceling each other
out. Every season has its own particular light, every day its own ap­
pearance. And all of them mingled together for all that-again as in
a dream-into one complete entity whose name is: my native village.
26 Random Haroest

Young days of spring, white with blossom and swathed in soft and
tender greenery, sprout joyful and trembling alongside burning sum­
mer days weary with heat and laden with gold; and in their midst the
sad evenings of the vintage season and the angry purple winter skies
die away with quiet sadness over hissing, glowing coals. For a mo­
ment the first snow, too, flickers at me from their midst, the soft,
sweet snow falling quietly and gently as though from a light sleep in
the void of the world, touching my eyelids and bringing its fresh
white coldness into my heart. It is a fugitive heritage in the treasure
trove of my memories and a tiny remnant of a complete winter that
has been stolen from my heart; I have no knowledge where it has
gone. That winter has passed and no longer exists, j ust as there are
bloned out from my mind the beginning and end of a great whirl­
wind that overtook me suddenly on a scorching day when I was re­
turning home on a hillside path between the tall grasses. The storm
rushed in from the ends of the earth and fell upon the village-and
for a moment the ground trembled mightily. The heavens grew dark,
blackness descended. The forest roared in the distance, trees were
uprooted, and the grasses on the hill clung to the earth in terror.
Columns of dust soared on high and straw roofs flew into the air;
and before I could pull myself together-there I was flying! I tell you
I was flying! A mighty gust of air suddenly engulfed me, l ifted me up
like a feather, and carried me to the bonom of the hill and to the top
of the hedge surrounding our house. How I arrived or how I was af­
terwards carried into our house-1 do not recall. But the experience
of that flight-what fool would attempt to explain it to others? Only
in dreams at night are there times when a person might savor a tiny
fragment of it . . . .
Sometimes, in saner moments, I say to myself, it never happened
at all! The village, that village which I see in my imagination, never
really existed. Not it, nor the forest, nor the dwarfs, nor Feigele,
nothing. They are only folktales and dreams that arise of their own
accord like wild plants, based on a few true facts to make them ap­
pea l to chi ldren. In any event-! rationalize still further-the se­
quence of times must be confused and the incidents in disorder.
Earlier episodes may have come later and vice versa. Imagination is
fickle, and one cannot rely upon it.
Would it were so! My complete faith in the absolute reality of these
legends is not affected one whit by all that. What difference if they ac­
tually occurred or not? They exist in my very soul, and their reality is
Random Harvest 27

in my flesh and bones. The finger of God engraved them on the

tablets of my life, and who can erase them? If they are of the stuff of
dreams-no truth and no reality is their equal. Like wine preserved in
the grape, so they remain in a man's heart as long as there is breath in
his nostrils. Their scent will never fade nor will their taste diminish.
On the contrary, as the years pass, their sharpness and splendor in­
crease, and the older they become, so their power grows and their
sweetness abounds. No wine is as strong and as sweet as the story of
our childhood! A single drop of it is sufficient at times to intoxicate
the heart to the point of madness, to sate the soul! May the name of
our good angel be blessed, for not allowing us to taste from the cup of
its delights more than one drop at a time, and at long intervals. A sin­
gle drop too much or larger than a measure-and a man's heart could
perish at that moment from sheer ecstasy.
I am quite sure that when my own time comes, and the gates of
this world open for my exit-at that last hour all the scenes of my
childhood will peek forth once again from behind the curtain and
raise themselves before me in one array. Every single one of them
will come in all its sweetness and grace and in all its pristine splen­
dor, j ust as I was shown them in the morning of my life. They will
stand before me bright and clear and watch me silently. Suddenly
the light of the seven days of creation will shine upon them-and
fade forever with the light of my soul. . . .
Dreams tell lies-but not all of them. And before I begin to re­
count a little bit from here and there, a few chapters from the mean­
derings of the inner l i fe and the true dreams of a random son of
Israel, may I be permitted to relate, without apparently any obvious
connection to what has gone before or what will come later, but
only by way of a small interlude between them, one of my own
dreams, a dream that was engraved in my heart i n the past and has
remained in all its clarity and all its detail to this day. I do not know
whether I will be able to convey to anyone the feeling of a dream as
it was, and i n particular to taste the flavor of its special light and at­
mosphere-how difficult it is to do that with a dream!-neverthe­
less, come what may I will tell it. The dream is a true one, almost
real. Therefore it contains no strangeness, confusion, or surprise.
And it seems to me, this is the proper place for it.
I dream-before me lies a long road, heavy with sand and loaded
with long, long convoys of wagons returning from the fair-and I
among them. I do not know how or whence I was carried into their
28 Random Harvest

midst, but I walk on, swallowed up in a dense, noisy throng, and drag
along with it almost unconsciously. All about there is noise, tumult,
and shouting, carts and wagons, some empty, some loaded with
goods, together with their passengers, drivers, and hands, men on
horseback and on foot, man and beast in one great mixture, dragging
on, and plodding forward heavily and fatigued, amid clouds of dust
and deep sand. Walking is well nigh impossible. Wagons and men half
sink into the deep sand. Dust, heat, and exhaustion. Everyone is
weary and broken; everyone is dirty and soaked with sweat. Everyone
looks irritable and sullen, and everyone shouts and beats the animals
cruelly and in anger. The fair-it would appear-was unsuccessful.
Not one realized even half his expectations. And so they vent their
anger on the miserable beasts. And the worse the road becomes, the
shorter their tempers, and the greater the noise and the confusion. No
one listens to his fellow. They urge each other on and get in each
other's way. "Hey there! Move along, man! Stop, stop, stay where
you are, you son of a bitch! " But no one has the power to move or
stop. One moves because the crowd moves, and stops when it stops,
just like a flock of sheep. I, too, am one of the flock. I struggle among
them, but do not know what I am doing there. I am tired; oh, my
head, my head! I am on the verge of fainting, but I carry on.
Involuntarily I carry on, as though dazed. And I am still walking
when suddenly there seem to be green rushes in front of me. I open
my eyes-upon my word, they really are green rushes, alive and fresh,
tall and thick, stretching along the road on the right and forming a
sort of green wall at its edge, separating the road and the wanderers
from some other world, a mysterious world, behind it. As I behold
the rushes, my spirits revive. How strange that I had not perceived
them before. Here they are and here they have been all the time. But
even now it appears that I am the only one that senses them. My heart
goes out to the green rushes, and without taking my thoughts off
them I continue to be dragged along with the stream. Over there, on
the other side of the green partition, lies another world, a bright,
serene world. I know it, but apart from me no one else knows. Bur I
am still dragged along with the stream, on and on. Yet my eyes never
leave the rushes. And-most wonderful of all-whenever I pass sec­
tions of the green partition that are less dense, or where there are little
openings, there appears what seems the image of a mysterious crea­
ture sitting on the other side, alone in the grass on the bank of a
limpiJ hrook, his hack to the rushes, and facing the clear, tranquil
Random Harvest 29

waters. The clamor of the convoys passing by on our side apparently

does not penetrate to him, as though he is engrossed in another far­
away world. He sits as though transfixed, facing the mirrorlike wa­
ters, quite motionless. Nevertheless, no matter how far I move on-he
is still there. Again and again his dark image flickers at me from afar
between the rushes, through every fresh lattice and opening that I
pass, as though he himself, together with the limpid brook and all cre­
ation round about, accompany me silently, without my knowledge,
moving along with me of their own accord, step by step, and imper­
ceptibly-like the reflection of the moon in a stream. Who is that
mysterious creature? Surely I know him, surely I have been with him.
Surely he is very, very close to me and to my soul. Surely he and I are
one. Surely I ought, come what may, to steal away and escape for a
moment to that pure, tranquil world behind the green curtain. The
bank of the clear, limpid brook is surely my place, and I am the one
who sat there of old. But I am still dragged along with the current and
walk and walk, on and on. Clouds of dust cover me, and a great tu­
mult settles over me, and I walk on and on, farther and farther away.
Where are the green rushes? Come and gone! I have left them all be­
hind me, they and their pure world and the brook with its limpid wa­
ters, and the mysterious creature sitting forever on the brook's bank.
Suddenly I remember and my heart leaps. This lone mysterious crea­
ture that I have left behind on the bank of the brook-it is me, me
myself, me, and no one else!
That is the story of the dream-and the meaning may be left to
God ! Let us leave the mysterious creature for a while. Let him sit
alone where he is, j ust as before. Let us not disturb his peace. Who
knows, perhaps someday his image may appear again for a brief
moment through the latticework. From now on, I will wend my
weary way i n the deep sand at the rear of the convoys.

M Y TH U M B A N D T H E S E C R E T S
O F T H E WO R L D

There was never any real harmony between m y father and myself. It
would appear that he was set against me from the moment of my
birth, like someone who has made a bad purchase and doesn't know
30 Random Haroest

what to do with it: with no conceivable use or possibility of sale. As

luck would have it, I descended upon my father and mother by an
oversight, after they had already married off most of their children
and given up hope of additional offspring. I was eighth in line and a
child of old age; and when the midwife congratulated my father
about me with a Mazel Tov, he wrinkled his nose a little . . . so my
mother told her neighbors. She also told them that thirty days after
my birth I was sent into exile: I was shunted off to the bosom of a
gentile wet nurse in a neighboring townlet. The wet nurse, begging
your pardon, had dried-up breasts, and when I used to cry for milk,
she would put my thumb in my mouth to suck . . . . When I was
brought back from there, my legs were bowed, my belly was
swollen, and my eyes protruded like two glass marbles. Apart from
that, I had taken to eating plaster off the wall, munching on coal,
and sucking my thumb . . . .
This habit of thumb sucking had become second nature, and I did
not give it up for a long time. Whenever I lapsed into reverie, I would
suck my thumb. My father, who was a martinet by nature, used to
smack me for it and call me "thumb sucker" or " pipe man"-for the
thumb between my teeth reminded him of a pipe in the mouth of an
old man contemplating-but I remained indifferent to his slaps and
nicknames. He went his way and I went mine; and whenever he left
the house, I would take myself off into a corner, sit all alone, fall into
a reverie, and suck . . . . What my reveries were about-I do not know.
I would curl up like a lizard in some hole and daydream. Whatever I
saw or heard around me seemed a sort of dream, and my heart was
full with mute astonishment at reveries that had no name or form.
Everything astonished me . . . the ticking of the clock, the shadow and
the stains on the wall, the silence of an empty room, the darkness un­
der the bed, the sandals lying there, the fine sunbeams glistening
through the window, floating dust-all of these were deep secrets and
mysteries requiring study, and I wandered about among them like an
ant in the grass . . . they too had their own secret life like me and only
my heart had any commerce with them. If anyone spoke to me, I only
half heard what was said, and if someone asked me anything, I would
narrow my eyes and remain silent. My heart was a lways fixed on
some other place: on a spot on the wall or a fly in flight. My soul
would enter the essence of everything, as though possessed, and dwell
among the trees and the inanimate stones, soaking up everything
from them and giving nothing in return . . . .
Random Harvest ]I

No one in the household paid me any attention. father was a stern

man, ground down, and worried. I do not know what worried him.
My mother would remember me, but always after the event. "Oh my
goodness, the infant hasn't eaten yet . . . the baby hasn't been washed
yet . . . . Where's the infant ? " And the infant, that is to say, me,
Shmulik, would be sitting at that moment in some hidden place, un­
der the bed or in the niche under the stove or in the yard behind one
of the fences, sitting and playing by myself. The neighbors, when I
came across them, used to peer at me suspiciously, putting a finger
on their temple, to indicate that my mind was not quite right, the
Lord preserve us, whispering and spitting. 1 And if my mother came
upon them meanwhile, they would suddenly fall silent . . . .
Of all the household furniture, the old mirror hanging above the
couch drew my attention most. In my eyes, it was the greatest of the
secrets of my world. Every time I stood upright in front of it, I could
see another room and furniture and myself and the cupboard facing
it with its brass objects on top. The very same images, except that in
the mirror all of them were perched on a slope, ready to fall at any
moment; it was a knotty problem: in the first place, how did they all
get into the mirror? And second, why didn't the cupboard with its
brass objects topple over? . . .
I made u p my mind to look into the matter properly at the first
opportunity, and a favorable occasion soon presented itself. The
other members of the household went out somewhere and I was left
alone. It was twelve noon. In the middle of the floor the reflection of
the window lay spread out like a pool checkered with light-with
flies coming to bathe in it. A speckled hen was slowly walking
about, step by little step, clucking softly and secretively, as though
about to fall asleep. Each time she was swallowed in the pillar of
light, her feathers turned to gold and she became transparent and
radiant. I got u p and climbed on the sofa and stretched myself in
front of the mirror-there he is! a second Shmulik standing j ust in
front of me with his nose touching my nose. I backed away a little­
and he also backed away. I came closer-and he came closer. In that
case, I grimaced and stuck out my tongue-and he did the same.
"Ha, ha, ha," I laughed-and he too laughed, but without the " Ha,
ha, ha," since his voice was not heard. All very strange. I am a little
nervous-nevertheless I look . . . the floor in the mirror is sloping

1To ward off the evil eye.

31 Random Harvest

and the pool of light in the middle is about to spill . . . and the other
objects are also slanting or hanging there miraculously . . . oh, sup­
posing, God forbid, the mortar, for example, might fall from the top
of the cupboard-bang! It could break my skull. . . . My heart
stands still with hidden fear, but at once I regain my courage and
peek again. I have to get to the bottom of the matter--come what
may! Behind the mirror, some hidden imp or sprite must surely be
sitting, and it must be he who is performing the magic with his
spells. To peek or not to peek ? . . . Who knows whether some hid­
den hand might smack my face. Would that be too much for an
imp? . . . I screw up my courage and grasp the frame of the mirror,
peeking to see what is behind it-and back away at once . . . an­
other peek-and once again a retreat . . . suddenly the mirror
swung, and with it the floor, the room, the objects, I myself-bang!
My heart j umped, my eyes grew dark, and I stumbled and fell under
the debris. . . .
When I came to myself, I saw that the room, thank heaven, had
not collapsed, but the mirror had slipped off its two lower supports
and remained dangling by the upper hook. Between the side of the
couch and the wall, Father's notebook stuck out a little. Clearly, it
had fallen from behind the mirror and was caught between the two.
The damage was slight; in alarm the hen had jumped on the table
and knocked over a mug. A single splinter of glass had fallen into
the pool of light, where it sparkled brightly, as though a miracle had
suddenly happened to it . . . .
The end of the affair was the same as the end of all my activities in
Father's house-smacks across the face.
And that very day I was sentenced to the �eder.
About this time my father moved his household from the village
and set up house in a suburb of the nearby town, and I found myself
in the domain of a first-grade melamed, a resident of that suburb.

TH E A L P H A B E T A N D
W H AT L I E S BETW E E N T H E L I N E S

In th<: h�:d<:r my luck did not improve. I remained aloof from my

com panions and th<:y from m<:. I shrank inside myself, creating my
Random Harvest

own world, without anyone being aware of it. Even the melamed
and his aide knew nothing of it. They knew only how to hit, each in
his own particular manner: the teacher laid in with strap, fist, el how,
and rolling pin and whatever else that could cause pain, and as for
the aide-he had an ugly habit of his own. If I didn't answer prop­
erly, he would at once spread and twist in front of my face five mur­
derous fingers and begin jiggling my Adam's apple. At such a time
he seemed to me a sort of panther or some other noxious beast­
and the fear of death descended upon me. I was frightened he might
scratch out my eyes with his filthy fingernails, and because of fright,
my mind became so dazed that I would forget everything I had
learned the previous day. He would show me with his finger the
form of a letter and ask, "What's thi s ? " and I would blink my eyes,
quiver all over, and remain silent. The power of speech deserted me.
Really and truly their teaching entered my mind only through
half an ear, by way of my left side-lock. My right ear was a bsorbing
another teaching of i ts own accord, which came up out of the
prayer book from between the lines and mingled with what was al­
ready in my mind. The lines themselves and the actual letters were
only faint echoes of it. On the very first day that the aide showed
me the alphabet chart set out in rows-there immediately sprang
up before me rank after rank of soldiers, of the kind that sometimes
passed in front of our house, with their drummer in the front:
trram-trram! The rows of alephs and gimmels with the slanting
dots below were very like them. They were real soldiers, armed
from head to foot: the former, the alephs with knapsacks folded on
their backs walked along, stooping slightly under their packs, as
though setting out on "maneuvers " ; the gimmels standing upright
with one foot stretched out in front of them were ready to " quick
march. " My eyes began searchi ng at the sides and edges o f the
chart. "Who are you looking for ? " the aide asked me. "The drum­
mer, " I say with searching eyes.
The a ide dropped the pointer from his hand, took hold of my
chin, raised my head a little, and fixed his bovine eyes upon me . . .
suddenly he aroused himself and said, " Go ! "
One syllable and that was all. And another child a t once ascended
the bench in my place, while I got down in disappointment and
withdrew to a corner, not knowing what the aide wanted. All that
day I pondered on soldiers and the army. Next morning, when I was
called again, the aide showed me the form of an aleph and said, "Do
34 Random Harvest

vou see that yoke and a pair of buckets ? " . . . Indeed, upon my life,
� yoke and a pair of buckets . . . . "That's an aleph," the aide af­
fi rms. "That's an aleph," I repeat after him. "What's that? " the aide
asks again. "A yoke and a pair of buckets," I say, delighted that the
Holy One, Blessed be He, has furnished me with such lovely toys.
"No, say 'Aleph' ! " the aide says again, " Remember: aleph, aleph . "
"Aleph, aleph . . ."

As soon as I left him, the aleph flew straight out of my mind, and
in its place there was Marusya, the gentile water girl. All day she
never left my sight. I saw her j ust as she was: with her bare calves,
her thick plaits, and the yoke and buckets on her shoulder. And
there was the well with the trough beside it and the ducklings in the
nearby pool and the garden of Mr. Alter Cuckoo . . . .
"What's this ? " the aide asked me the next day, pointing to the
aleph. "Oh, Marusya ! " . . . I was delighted with the discovery. The
aide flung the pointer from his hand and spread his fingers; but
thinking better of it, he took my chin and said: "Goy, aleph, aleph!
. . . " "Aleph, aleph, aleph ! . . . "
The shape of other letters also appeared to me in various guises:
in the form of beasts, wild animals, birds, fish, and crockery, or sim­
ply strange creatures whose like I had not yet discovered in this
world for the time being. The letter shin-a kind of adder with three
heads; the letter lamed-a stork stretching its neck and standing on
one leg like the one that lived in a treetop behind our house; the
gimmel-a riding boot, like the one pictured on the j ars of shoe pol­
ish being vigorously rubbed by a little devil with a tail. . . . The
dalet-looking like an ax, and so with them all . . . and sometimes
one of the letters would appear to me in one shape today and in
some other shape tomorrow. This happened of its own accord,
without any intention or effort on my part. A form that I had grown
tired of withdrew, and another one took its place.
When I came to combining the letters, I found a mixed multitude
of the strangest creatures. They came striding along in great bands,
�ide hy side or following each other, neck in front of face and face
opposite neck, with the simple nun and the squashed-nosed pay al­
ways striding on one foot at the head. The lamed walked erect with
neck outstretched and head upright, as if to say, " Look at me; I am
head and shoulders taller than them a l l . " Meanwh ile the yods
pressed forwa rd, such little creatures that seemed to me to have no
Random Harvest

shape or support, and nevertheless I liked them more than the others.
They always seemed to be floating in the air or drawn along by
chance-and I was very sorry for them. I was always afraid that with
their diminutive size they might get lost among their companions and
be crushed or trodden underfoot, God forbid, among them all. . . .
Such confusion prevented my ear from hearing the aide's teaching,
and my windpipe seemed fixed between his fingers. With my mouth
I repeated after him apparently every sylla ble, but my heart was
minding its own business: forming one shape after another, combin­
ing forms, and daydreaming. Sometimes the sound of the syllables
was woven into the fabric of my dreams and endowed them with
fresh coloring or new features, whether pertinent or not. During my
reading, if I chanced upon a grotesque combination of forms, I
would suddenly start laughing; and my mirth would send the aide
into a towering rage, drawing his whole fury upon me. I had no idea
why my laughter affected him so.
My classmates paid no attention to me at all, and I took no heed
of them. When they were playing inside the J:teder-I would sit to
one side and watch them or withdraw to a corner, suck my thumb,
and fall into a reverie. I was drawn after the shapes in the prayer
book, in all their combinations and patterns, as far as my power of
imagination could stretch. My mind extracted from them whatever
it could, eating the kernel and throwing away the husk; and when
the children came out to play in the yard-I would seek out some
hiding place, sitting alone and playing by myself. Whenever my turn
to read came round, they searched for me until I was finally found
sitting and sucking my thumb behind some fence or lying in a dark
corner of the corridor.

I A M WE A N E D !

When I had spent two years in the J:teder without much success with
the Hebrew of the prayer book, my teacher introduced me to Bible­
with considerable improvement: the prayer book was already "old
hat," and its letters I considered lifeless. To what might it be com­
pared ? To someone gnawing and chewing empty husks. But Bible
36 Random Haroest

was different; it opened new windows to the world of imagination.

First of all the petite aleph.2 I found the little fellow at once, sitting
opposite the tent of meeting at the beginning of Leviticus, awaiting
my arrival. I was long acquainted with his companions, dwarfs like
himself, from the "Prayer for Rain" in the prayer book, and I was
able to convey greetings in their name. Second, the sheep and cattle
and birds: ox, ram, goat, dove, and turtle dove . . . they were all well
known to me and I was familiar with them. You might almost say
that I had a share in them. The goat and the calf pasture in the
meadow behind our house at the end of the suburb-! spend my free
time with them; and the doves-they come from the dovecote of our
neighbor Truchim, and they also have right of entry into our yard .
. . . In the morning, when I leave for school, they come toward me
strutting importantly, puffing out their crops and cooing, "Tur, tur,
tur. " . . . For some time I have had my eye on a pair of them and at
Hanukah, may it come in peace, when I am in the money, God will­
ing, I will buy, without commitment, that pair for ready cash. . . .
And when I reached the passages3 in which are mentioned head
and fat, innards, and shanks washed in water, "And he shall set
them on the wood that is on the fire," nipping off the head and
breaking the bird's wings, " its crop with its feathers," wringing out
the blood, the offering in a pan, a frying pan, et cetera, et cetera­
there arose at once in my imagination my mother's entire kitchen on
the eve of a festival. My mother and the maid-aprons on their
waists and sleeves rolled up to their elbows-stand armed with
rolling pins, rolling the dough on the board, beating eggs in a dish,
and pouring glistening oil into hollows in the mounds of white flour
. . . the cat too is here: he lies in wait round the salting board casting
glances at the "caul which is above the liver," the loins and kidneys,
and the crops and shanks lying about in their salt and oozing a red­
dish juice . . . and the maid from time to time throws him a piece of
intestine or white gut of fish roe or "the crop with the feathers" and
the like, to keep him busy for the time being, and to distract his at­
tention from the meat. The pestle and mortar sing out, " Pound it
well, pound it well ! " and my nostrils caught the sweet, refreshing
savor of oven baking, and an offering of flour mixed with oil and

'The fir'>! word of l .eviricm ends wirh a miniature aleph. l r was customary to be­
�ln rht· '>tudy of rhe llihle wirh Leviticus .
".,,. ,. l .n i r ou" I ff d,·,c-rihin� rht· sacrifices and offerings in ancient r i mes .
Random Harvest J7

egg yolks, and my ears picked up the sound of crackling and sizzling
pancakes floating in fat in the skillet and the frying pan and the
crackling sound of "the gift offering" and other pastries with the
dough cut into strips like noodles or molded into pies and puddings
coated with ra isins, sa ffron, and cinnamon . . . the word "crack­
ling" stimulated my appetite most, until my temples hurt and my
cheek twitched: Cr-a-ck-li-ng! . . I was overcome with hunger. My
.

mouth filled with spittle and my thumb found its way unconsciously
between my teeth . . . .
"Where are you reading?" . . . my teacher suddenly asked, strap
in hand. All the pupils fall silent and fix their gaze upon me. My lit­
tle finger wanders between the lines, a blind terrified wandering .
. . . Brimming with tears, my eyes glance alternately at the Bible and
my teacher's strap. The blurred letters dance i n front of me. The
teacher raises his hand and my right shoulder hunches in fear. In my
fright I forget to take my thumb out of my mouth.
" Berele ! " my teacher suddenly addresses a l i vely child. " Run
along to Nahum the cobbler and bring me back a little pitch. Right
away. Tel l him, 'The teacher wants it."' Berele hurried away. The
children round the table whisper to one another, stealing glances at
me and laughing, stealing more glances and laughing again. Why
are they looking at me? Why are they laughing? Berele brings a little
pitch on a splinter of wood and puts it on the teacher's table.
" Come down ! " the teacher orders me. I come down . " Come
here . . " I take one small step forward. " More . . . " Again a little
.

step. " And again . . . " and I am standing held between the teacher's
knees. God in heaven, what is he planning to do to me? . . .
The teacher bends his thumb backwards until a kind of little hol­
low appears next to the bottom j oint. He fills the hollow with snuff
and after inhaling a noseful, he stands up and suddenly sneezes right
in my face: "Attishoo! " . . .
That done, his mind is cleared, and he addresses h imself to the
matter in hand: He pulls my thumb from my mouth and waves it i n
front of a l l the children, at the same time asking i n schoolmasterly
fashion according to the direct method, " Ch ildren, what is this ? "
" A thumb, a thumb . . . " " And what i s this ? " h e inquires again re­
garding the pitch. " Pitch, pitch . . . " " And what is this ? " "Snuff,
snuff . . . " " And what should be done to a child who sucks h is
thumb ? " This stumps the children and they fall silent. The teacher
demands an a nswer with his eyes. Suddenly a child j umps up, a
38 Random Harvest

stammerer, with sparkling eyes, like one possessed by the holy spirit,
his mouth stammering with excessive inspiration: " 1-1-1 know . . . "
" Speak, spea k," the teacher encourages him. " C-C-C-T-T . . . "
" Cut off his thumb ! " another child interrupts him. The cleverer
children burst out laughing and the teacher too smiles. The stam­
merer is ashamed. Silence again.
"Nu ? " the teacher asks with his eyelids . . . . " Bind a rag round
it," someone suggests cautiously. " Cane him," another one pro­
poses. "No ! " the teacher shakes his head, " You don't know. A child
who sucks his thumb . . . has this done to him." And the teacher be­
gins showing the children, calmly and without haste, adding deed to
word, how the matter is done: "You take pitch . . . " And the teacher
takes some pitch. "And smear it on the thumb . . . " And the teacher
smears it. "Afterwards you take snuff . . . " And the teacher takes
that too. "And you sprinkle it on the pitch . . . " And the teacher
sprinkles it. "And now"-the teacher concludes in a voice of thun­
der-" let him go and suck." On that day I was weaned from thumb
sucking; but when the spirit moved me, I used to bite my fingernails.

A G o o n I D EA A N D ITs REWARD

"Would you believe it, Pessi, he's talking t o the wall ! " . . . Such was
my father's remark one winter's night, when he suddenly lifted his
eyes from his account book and saw me standing in front of the wall
g r i m a c i n g and making strange movements with my head and
tongue, with my hands and my ten fingers. His words were followed
as usual with a smack. Truth to tell, I wasn't talking to the wall, but
I was playing and talking with my shadow on the wall. And what
should a child do in the long winter nights, sitting alone, shut up in
the house? But Father was a martinet and could not abide either me
or my game, and whatever I did was anathema to him and brought
h i m to boiling point, resulting in smacking and kicking and shout­
ing: " Pessi ! " he shouted and kicked, "get him out of my sight-or
I ' ll kill h i m ! " And at that moment it rea lly seemed as though I,
Shmulik, had in fact committed some terrible wrong against Father
at some time, a wrong too great to bear, for which I could not atone,
as though, Cod forbid, I had made his life a misery or endangered
Random Harvest ]9

his soul, Lord save us. God in heaven, when had I done him wrong?
And what wrong had I done him?
So I began to keep out of Father's way and to stay out of view;
when he was in the dining room, I was in the bedroom; when he
was in the bedroom, I was in the kitchen, finding a place for myself
in a corner, sitting alone and doing whatever caught my fancy. . . .
At that time a small matter had taken my fancy. I wanted to milk
the wall . . . . I had heard from my classmates in heder that there are
wonder-workers in the world who attempt such things-and they
a re successful. I immediately fixed my eye on a certain wall in
Father's house. From its midpoint downward, that wall was wet and
mildewed, exuding a kind of green sweat, and it had already at­
tracted my attention. During rainy days I used to sit facing it for
hours on end, examining the strange shapes that the damp had im­
posed on it. I could see in the green spots whatever my eye desired:
mountains and hills, fields and forests, castles and pa laces . . . .
"This wall," I said to myself, " was definitely made for milking, "
and all my free time I hung around it, examining it from every an­
gle, and seeking the most suitable place for it. I found what I was
looking for, at the bottom of the wall, close to the corner, where I
noticed a swollen place, a kind of nipple-that must be the exact
spot. All I needed to do was to make a little incision and stick a tube
in it-and the milk would flow and pour out like a fountain. And in
order to contain the full flow, without losing a single drop, I has­
tened to prepare in advance, before the milking, all kinds of recepta­
cles: a neckless flask, the bottom of a broken bottle, a cracked pot
for melting clay, part of a collection box for Rabbi Meir the
Wonder-Worker, a tin can, perforated and rusting, a squashed fun­
nel, closed at the bottom, a dirty skullcap, a dried-up sandal, a
" widower" without a mate, and all manner of vessels and fragments
of vessels of similar kinds, lying on the rubbish heap, in the attic, or
under the bed. Nor did I forget to bring a cork! And why a cork ? In
order to cork the mouth of the nipple, namely, the hole in the wall,
between one milking and the next. Surrounded by these vessels and
armed with a nail and the pestle from the mortar, I sat on the
ground and began to make a hole. The pestle went, " Bang ! " and the
nail sank in. My heart leaped, a little more, one more moment-and
out of the aperture a white warm jet would flow- "Tizz . . . "-and
here, j ust at the critical moment, my cheek was suddenly slapped
from behind:
40 Random Harvest

"The child is mad. Stop damaging the walls! " ·

The slap-was Father's slap. I could recognize it even in the dark
and with my eyes closed. It was a sharp, polished slap, which ap­
peared suddenly like lightning and departed rounded, sharp, and
smooth, burning and ringing almost offhandedly. You hear the
sound afterwards, after contact . . . . Father was a wonderful crafts­
man in this art, a master slapper. He understood the artistic econ­
omy of the process. One might even say that he used to slap with
"divine inspiration," so to speak . . . and surely that isn't hard to
understand. For forty years in succession, ever since he became
"Father," he was wont to slap . . . . Somehow or other, the plan was
ruined, sinner that I am, and the wall remained unmilked to this
day. A pity! God is my witness that I had intended it only for the
good. I saw my father's poverty, and I wanted to help him to the
best of my ability. . . . The truth is that I couldn't bear to look upon
his sorrow, when he came home in the evening and sat straining his
eyelids over the account book, chewing his beard, and reckoning,
and reckoning, and reckoning . . . . What connection can there be
between an account book and anger? And yet nevertheless-beware
of Father when he is concentrating on his accounts! It is a time of
danger, and your life hangs by a thread . . . . Indeed my plan was cer­
tainly well meant. I thought, moreover, that I might, perhaps, win
over Father's heart by these means and that he would look upon me
with favor and not slap me anymore. But what could I do? Satan in­
tervened, and Father destroyed his livelihood with his own hand.

M Y S E L F A N D T H E M O UTH O F T H E STOVE

Consequently, I abandoned milking the wall and teamed u p with the

mouth of the stove. In winter Father's house was dark and desolate,
and at twilight when I returned from the (:I eder, it seemed to me
seven times dark and desolate. Dampness, dirt, mold. A damp cold­
ness exuded from the walls and the floor, penetrating to the bone.
The air was heavy with the smell of pitch, cheap cigarette smoke,
and some other foul smell-the odor of peasants during the day (my
father had dealings with peasants and they had entry to our house).
The simple furnishings-which always seemed lost and orphaned in
Random Harvest 41

the large void-were now merging into the twilight darkness and
were swallowed up enti rely. For that reason the void became partic­
ularly empty and sad. My mother sighed quietly in a corner, and the
cat came toward me from some dark place, looking up at me and
howling piteously. Cruelty to animals! . . .
Only in one corner in the wall of the recess, near the floor, there is
a kind of little window-the square and sooty mouth of the stove
two handbreadths square, which is stu ffed up all day, but with the
darkness, between the afternoon and evening prayer, when the win­
dows grow blind and the house is filled with dread-the hump of
the wall opposite would take on a reddish, yellowish hue and begin
quivering and dancing. It is a sign that the mouth of the stove is
alight and well . . . and at once-I am in the recess, near the mouth
of the stove. With bent knees I sit in front of it on the remains of the
heap of wood lying there, holding my knees in my hands, bowing
my head, and looking . . . . The logs inside a re hard, damp, cold.
Most of them have thorns covered with dry snow and wrapped in
trembling barklike wisps of beard . . . . The little flame of the dry
splinters under the logs is still weak and feeble, and whenever it
quivers and flickers, my heart throbs, afraid that it might die away,
God forbid, before it takes hold of the logs. My eyes keep track of
every lick and flicker of the golden flame, and I urge it on with
everything in my power. " Climb up, climb up, onto that splinter"­
I whisper to myself. " From the side, get it from the side, climb up
higher, higher, onto its back. That's right, that's the way, take hold
of its beard, its beard. " . . . And the little flame listens to me, spreads
out, twists about, doubles over, and wraps itself round about the
logs, feeling and seeking a suitable place to get a hold . . . . Above in
the sooty window-a howling of wind and a rattling of chains, ter­
rify body and soul. I shake all over with cold, which penetrates my
bones from below, from where I sit on the remains of the pile; a gust
of wind, torn from the window of the stove falls downward, into
the mouth of the stove, scattering a handful of yesterday's cold soot
on my face-but I do not move from my place. My eyes and my
heart are on the flame. I sit and watch how the fire flares up. And at
the moment when the fire flares-! devote myself heart and soul to
the conflagration . . . . I look at it and I listen to it in a way that no
words can express. I hear a kind of tune, a mysterious tune, very
light, moaning from the depths, rising from the glowing coals,
stretching from within like the extrusion of thousands of fine, hid-
42 Random Harvest

den threads, beautifully strung out . . . and I see a kind of dance, a

wild unruly dance of little tongues of flame, alive and dancing
rapidly. A great host of reddish, bluish, purplish, golden flames . . . a
riot of incandescent lights, rising in countless threads and straps,
wrestling and writhing, licking and flickering, embracing and cling­
ing . . . the hissing of heaps of glowing coals and the winking of liv­
ing eyes of carbuncles and rubies. "Ts-ss "-the tip of a brand hisses
on a turbid boiling drop bubbling upon it. "Pok ! " answers a glow­
ing coal that has suddenly split and splattered into fragments. And
once again a quiet, drawn-out groaning is dragged out, a fine, sharp,
thread of sound-"Hm-m! " . . . And suddenly-"Prrr! " A pile of
burnt brands bursts into fragments and is scattered like flecks of
gold . . . . The mouth of the stove is filled with heaps and heaps of
burning coals, its empty space-white-hot iron. It seems as though
at any moment a salamander will burst forth, a creature that, ac­
cording to the lore of some of my companions in the l)eder, is born
of fire and is all horrible and red like a boiled crab . . . and it seems,
too, that at the moment it emerges from the fire it will rear upright
on its two hind legs-with its eight legs leaping at your eyes .
. . . Quaking and terror take hold of me. I close my eyes and feel the
heat of the fire on my face and on my knees and listen in terror to
the rattling of chains in the chimney stack-"Drrr. " I am afraid to
turn my head round. Some devil is standing at my back; actually
bent over my neck. "Mama, Mama! "-my heart cries out inside me,
but no sound comes out. It is stifled in my throat. A terrible fear of
death grips me. My teeth chatter and my knees knock and my heart
languishes from hidden dread. The howling of the stove comes to
me from a very distant place . . . and here, at this moment of peril,
there pops up in my brain the "charm," which the teacher entrusted
to me to keep me safe from the fiend pursuing me whenever I go
home from the heder. In haste I thrust my two thumbs in my trouser
belt and at the same time cry out with tremendous devotion, "Hear
0 Israel . " The charm works, my fright evaporates, and I sit down
once again and peer into the mouth of the stove. The brands fall
apart into separate pieces. The glowing coals grow dark. The hot
ash increases. One brand, all velvet glows in its blackness and full of
checkered fissures and rifts, lies toward the side and sends blue puffs
spiral ing up from between the cracks, like small, thin columns of
smoke. The howling in the stove increases. It is muffled and inter­
mittent, but repetitive and cyclical, without strength and without
Random Harvest 4]

rest . . . Yavdoha, our old servant, comes to rake the stove clean. My
eyelids close of their own accord. . . . " Hoy-ye, hay ye! "- "Drrr,
-

Drrr, Drrr! "-I still hear howling in the distance and rattling near
by, in my sleep . . . .
The whole night, I see in my dreams all kinds of black creatures,
sooty faces, like chimney sweeps standing at night in the darkness of
the world, scattered about a sandy, desolate plain, each bent over a
heap of glowing coals and scraping away and scraping away with
their shovels, each by himself. The heaps of coals cast no light ex­
cept on the spot and on the a ngry faces of the people shoveling
them. And the void of the world round about, above and below, in
front and behind, remains just as dark as it was. And there, on top
of the heaps, there stand dancing upright all kinds of many-legged
salamanders, pushing their fat bellies and their putrid faces upward
and waving their hideous wet abominable legs in the void of the
world.

LOKSH

Meanwhile, i n l:leder I had progressed to the class o f " readers' expla­

nations. " 4 From now on I was obliged, together with the other chil­
dren in the class, to chant in unison, loudly and in tune, all sorts of
words by heart, which were joined at the teacher's command to the
end of each biblical verse. Where the teacher brought these words
from, who invented them for him, and what connection they had to
the biblical verses themselves-I neither knew nor had any intention
of knowing. For truth to tell, I saw no difficulty in it. It was j ust the
same as the letter bet with a u-vowel being bu, or like the word rak
translated as niyart and like the word ahu translated as gemusicht. In
sum, it was all an edict, and one doesn't question an edict. And so I
accepted the edict, swaying back and forth with all my might, j oining
my voice to the throng, and shouting . . . . The important thing was
not to be left alone. For as long as I sing and shout in unison-no

4The class of children reaching the level of being able to combine words inro sen­
tences and interpreting them. The Hebrew text was translated into an archaic
Yiddish that was frequently incomprehensible_
44 Random Harvest

great harm can come of it. On the contrary! . . . But if the class sud­
denly stops and my voice trills out alone even by a hairbreadth-I
might j ust as well be dead . . . and I suspect the rest of my classmates
to be in similar straits. What did my classmates and I resemble at
that time? A group of blind people walking along together, holding
and supporting each other, tripping along on floes of ice bobbing
about on the river. Each one half-trusting his classmates, all moving
and being moved at the edge of an abyss . . . . Nevertheless, on
Thursday, the day of judgment in the J:teder, some of the children
could apparently chant the "exercise" properly in unison-some­
thing miraculous. I, Shmulik, scarcely ever understood the "oral ex­
planation" of the "exercise." My mind was riveted on the gemusicht
and the niyart and the bayshtidl and other strange classroom words,
which my ear had never previously heard. I didn't know what they
meant, and the teacher made no attempt to explain them to me. They
must be the stuff of learning-I said to myself-and they must con­
tain the very essence of "oral Yiddish explanation," and the rest less
so. These meaningless words remained hidden in my heart, and in
my free time, when I sat alone in the corridor behind the water bar­
rel, there would burst forth from them, like summer butterflies burst­
ing from the chrysalis, lovely figments of imagination, which enter-
tained my spirit in its loneliness . . . . I would talk with them, laugh
over them, and take comfort in them . . . . Some of them lasted only a
moment. They came, peeked out, and by the time I noticed them­
were gone! Here no longer. But some of them were regular guests or
constant classmates. I had only to close my eyes and they were with
me. With some of them I had considerable dealings and we shared a
number of remarkable interests, which I could not reveal to a single
creature in the world, nobody, not even my classmates in school. I
couldn't, even though I wanted to. They, the children, were not wor­
thy. They would laugh and mock me and call me "thumb sucker"
and other nicknames and epithets. In addition, who knows whether
they would believe me. I am sure they wouldn't believe me. They
would only find a new disparaging nickname for me.
I already had names and nicknames, thank God, enough and to
spare. Each nickname related to an episode and each name-had its
own reason. A part from "thumb sucker" and "pipe man" men­
tioned above, I had also acq uired for a time such names as the fol­
lowing: Dolt, Dreamer, Useless, Nonperson, Animal, et cetera, et
Random Harvest 45

cetera; and last but not least: Loksh! In another version: Lekshele­
by way of an affectionate diminutive.
And why Loksh? Because of an episode. One friday at noon I was
sitting in class before the teacher reciting alone the weekly portion
from a worn-out, tattered Bible. And the teacher at that moment
was sitting, as was his habit every Friday, with a large, chi pped
earthenware vessel in front of him from which he was attempting to
swallow, with the aid of a wooden ladle, warm food in the shape of
tasty strands of lokshen made of flour (the teacher loved this dish
beyond the love of women and he was willing to kill and be killed
for it). As he swallowed, I repeated a passage, and as I repeated, he
swallowed. Suddenly- "Tfrr! " The word vayitmahmeah ( the por­
tion was Vayera ) stood before me like a Satan barring the way.
What was this long, strange word ? Not only had I suddenly forgot­
ten its translation, but its very essence now appeared to me as a
strange new creature. It had only j ust leaped out of the Bible and I
didn't know what it was. The cause was partly the little squiggle
suspended over it. I had never paid any attention to it until now. As
true as I am standing here, this squiggle appeared j ust like a grass
snake, like the one that Mitka, our neighbor Trochim's son, had dis­
turbed on the roof of his house only yesterday. And meantime there
flashed across my vision a kind of white thread in the teacher's
sparse beard, flashed and disappeared. My wandering eyes became
riveted, so to speak, on the Bible, but my attention was divided.
Suddenly, without realizing it, I raised a thi n finger toward the
teacher's beard, and with a kind of strange j oy I announced my find,
"Oy, of course, a loksh!" On my honor, the word escaped from my
mouth of its own accord, quite innocently, and without any evil in­
tent, God forbi d . I n the act of swallowing, a loksh had actually
fallen from the spoon and got caught in my teacher's beard, a white
twisted loksh like a chain; that was the thread that flashed before
me when I was reciting I don't know what, and when in my inno­
cence I saw it caught in the thicket, my eyes lit up from sheer de­
light . . . . But the teacher and his pupils saw it differently. They, the
pupils, suddenly burst out laughing at me, "Ha, ha, ha-Loksh. "
While he, the teacher, leaped from his seat as though stung by a
scorpion and fell upon me with the ladle like a robber. He rained
murderous blows on me, exclaiming as he did so, "There's a loksh
for you, there's a loksh for you! " All credit to the teacher's wife, for
46 Random Harvest

had she not leaped from the stove to my aid, shovel i n hand, they
would have carried me out from the �eder in a shroud.
As a result of this episode I fell ill for about two weeks and in
del irium I would mutter, " Loksh, snuff, vayitmahmeah, sala­
mander . . . " and when I rose from my sickbed and regarded myself
as something of a " privileged person, " under no circumstances
would I agree to return to the �eder of Reb Gershon (that was the
name of my teacher during that " term" ). So where did I want to
go ?-To the �eder of Reb Meir, the one in the little valley, beyond
the suburb. And why j ust there?-1 don't know. I had once passed
by that valley, and it had caught my fancy. I had seen sandhills
there, a sparkling water channel, and many, many plants-a sea of
plants. Amid the plants an old ruin stood out, from which grew
bushes and grass. My companions used to talk a lot about this val­
ley and relate tall stories a bout it and the ruin in its midst. At
night-they used to say-it was very dangerous to go into the valley
because of ghosts and evil spirits. And it was said that Yehiel, the
ragman, once entered the ruin with his sack in search of rags and
found there old Reb Kohat, the one who killed his wife and died a
year ago, sitting in a corner on an upturned barrel and examining
his underclothes for lice . . . . This whole matter with the danger in­
volved attracted me very strongly to that valley, and now that a win­
dow of opportunity had opened for me-l determined not to miss it.
Come what may! I would go only to the �eder of Reb Meir!
My mother was agreeable, and Father-he, too, was not adamant
on this occasion. In front of me, admittedly, he j ustified the sentence
and beating by Reb Gershon. " He deserved i t"-he would say,
namely, that I, Shmulik, deserved to be killed . . . but when I was not
there, he did admit in part that " Reb Gershon had overdone it a bit!
The devil take his grandfather! " . . . And so I heard explicitly from
behind the door. In short-the merits of my forefathers ensured that
I became a pupil of Reb Meir.
The relief afforded me by my father on this occasion I regarded as
an omen that my luck would improve from then on. In the quarter
in which we lived-the pitch-makers' quarter-Reb Meir's �eder, I
will have you know, was the pinnacle of learning. It had no supe­
rior! Reb Meir himself was quite unlike the other melamdim; as for
all the other melamdim-"The devil take their grandfathers , " in
father's parlance. But Reb Meir-Reb Meir was different! He was a
handsome, elegant man with a fine beard and a fine forehead; his
Random Harvest 47

speech was measured and his gait dignified; even his black topcoat
proclaimed: dignity. Women accepted his blessing and children hur­
ried willingly to his heder. His pupils were few, and they regarded
themselves as especially privi leged. Among them was an "a d­
vanced" group who, apart from Pentateuch with Rashi's commen­
taries, learned other books of the Bible and a little Talmud; if so, I
too could be "advanced. " . . .
At twilight on that happy day, when my j oy overwhelmed me and
I could not restrain it, I ran outside to noise my greatness abroad. I
found a band of children, my former classrr >, sitting sunk in

sand, playing with pebbles, and throwing du .p into the air: they
were bringing down " rain. " I stood behind them, at a little distance,
and folding my arms behind me in the manner of a grown-up, I
stuck out my tongue at them and said: " Eh, I am in Reb Meir's
heder, I am." . . .
"Loksh "!-the whole band shouted at me, and a cloud of dust
rose between us- "Loksh, Lekshele! " . . .

I N T H E VA L L E Y

O n the first morning, m y mother moistened m y side-locks with spit­

tle on her fingers, cleaned my nose, tucked my shirttails into the
opening in my trousers, put " provision s " in my hand-and off I
went to Reb Meir's }:teder.
My heart had n ot deceived me. A new }:teder-a new world.
Everyday, after the morning nose-clean, I would take my provi­
sions and set off for Reb Meir's }:t eder-and I could not get enough
of it. Beyond the suburb at the very beginning of the valley's slope,
j ust near its edge, stood Reb Meir's lonely little home, slightly lop­
sided, with a shed at its end, and at its side a tree with a vegetable
garden in front of it. Most of the house was sunk into the valley
under the canopy of the tree, but the top of its roof and chimney,
sparkling white amid the tree's green foliage, announced its pres­
ence to passersby a bove. It seemed as though the chimney h a d
originally climbed on top of the roof t o catch a glimpse from there
through the network of branches of what was happening beyond,
on the crossroads . . . . The exterior part of the house shone hap-
48 Random Harvest

pily; all of it white as snow, but below the windows a blue strip
flecked with orange surrounded it like a girdle. The windows, too,
were adorned with a painted framework of blue buds and flowers
like swallows in flight . . . . The arch below, in the foundations of
the house, was all green as if new. At the edge of the house on the
right stood a propped-up ladder by which one could climb to the
attic through a dark and somewhat frightening hole. Above the
hole, at the very top of the roof, a little wheel like a windmill ro­
tated ceaselessly on its axle, h umming as it spun, and reducing the
fear of the hole a little . . . . Reb Meir had made and fashioned the
wheel with his own hands. He was a fine craftsman and made
everything himself. Little bone cups, ear cleaners, toothpicks, and
other similar tiny objects for ornament or use. He had two snuff­
boxes, one of oak for weekday use and one of ram's horn for the
Sabbath-both his own handiwork . The symbolic painting of
Jerusalem on the east wall and the pictures of Mordechai and
Haman on a nother wall of his house-they too were his own
work. When he reached the description of the Ta bernacle, he
would show his pupils a scale model of the Tabernacle and its fur­
nishings; the priestly vestments, the menorah, and the table, the
cleaning tools and the goblets, and the other implements. Reb
Meir had labored on them with a knife for a number of " terms,"
and they were kept from year to year i n a triangular cupboard
fixed in a corner. It was said that he was also a mef:JOkek, but I did
not know what that was. Or rather I k new that mef?okek was
translated into old Yiddish as kritzler, but I did not know what
was the function of a k ritzler. Nor did any of my companions
know, and I was too ashamed to ask Reb Meir himself because it
was a personal matter. Reb Meir's shed, the one at the end of the
house, was the best and fi nest of all the sheds in the world. It
stood from year to year j ust as it was, and Reb Meir employed it
for many pu rposes. It served him consecutively in a number of
ways, each according to its season: a wood store, a goat pen, a
coop for fattening geese, a space for potatoes and cucumbers, and
in the hot season-even as a schoolroom for the pupils. A slight
chill and a welcome shade were always present, and through the
branches on the roof, the sun shed drops of golden light on the
pages of the Bibles. When Reb Meir was in a good mood and
wanted to please us, he would, toward evening, bring the table
and chair and two long benches outside the shed and we would
Random Harvest 49

take our places and study Bible under the tree between house and
garden. Believe me, that was my favorite time. The tree covered us
with its green canopy, full of the chirping of birds and the flutter
of unseen wings. To the right, the valley sloped downward, to­
gether with its sea of plants. Down at the bottom, a silver water
channel twisted and sparkled; gurgling and bubbling, it ran on and
on until it disappea red under a covering of grass. Opposite-a
lofty yellow hill of sand with a green grove on top. A great red sun
was fixed between the trees, setting them aflame. " A Burning
Bush "-flashed through my mind. Sparks of fire and rods of gold
radiated between the network of branches, setting our eyes on fire
and making Reb Meir's pale forehead and black beard glow. Each
single hair sparkled by itself. To me he seemed like one of the an­
cient sages, Rabbi Shimon Bar-Yochai, for example, sitting at the
head of his pupils i n some desert beneath a carob tree, while stu­
dents from all over the world engaged in " the mysteries of the
Torah . " A moment of delight, of yearning and outpouring of the
spirit. The sun was close to setting. The air was heavy with scent.
And we were reading and intoning psalms before the teacher:
" Happy i s the man that has not walked in the counsel of the
wicked . . . but his delight is in the law of the Lord and i n His law
does he meditate day and n ight. And he shall be like a tree planted
by streams of water. " . . . or: "The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not
want. He makes me lie down in green pastures, He leads me beside
the still waters, He restores my soul. Yea, though I walk through
the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evi l . " . . . The
translation of the words became superfluous, almost detrimental.
The words flowed and flowed from the heart with the meaning
bound u p inside them. The gate of understanding was opened of
its own accord, " li ke a tree planted"-quite literally, that was the
tree under whose shade we were sitting. " By streams of water"­
p l a i nly, this was the water channel below. "The valley of the
shadow of death "-that was the ruin, where evil spirits lurked,
and the teacher had forbidden us to enter it. " You prepare a table
before me "-this was surely the table that we were sitting at now,
engaged in " God's Torah . " " In the presence of my enemies "-who
are these enemies if not the " hooligans," the young shepherds, a
curse upon them, who sometimes appear with their staffs and
packs on top of the hill, showing us from the distance " pigs' ears"
and mocking us with their "geer, geer, geer " ? . . . Surely they are
50 Random Harvest

those very same " wicked " i n the psalm, who ·are destined, God
will ing, to be " like chaff which the wind drives away," one p uff­
and they are gone . . . .
Sometimes a cluster of light clouds, white angels, would appear
above the little valley. It would hover for a little while on its path­
and suddenly it would float away, j ust as it came. Only one of the
clouds, the purest and loveliest of all, sometimes attached itself to
the top of the hills opposite and remained there alone. It looked
down upon us from on high, on the little community sitting in the
valley and studying Torah. "Who shall ascend the mountain of the
Lord and who shall stand in His holy place ? " . . .
And at sunset, as I climbed out of the valley, I lingered at its edge
above, my heart full and my eyes fixed on the ends of the earth.
Mountain, grove, the skirts of heaven, torches, a river of fire,
Gehenna . . .

R E B M E I R ' s l:I E D E R

The �eder of Reb Meir ( as his Hebrew name implies5) really lit up
my eyes. It helped me see to the ends of the earth, and I could not get
my fill of it. I, little Shmulik, a day-old chick, of no account to any­
one, would sit bent and huddled on a hard bench in a narrow little
room of a small clay house, all dark and rickety, sunk in a valley at
the end of the earth, and my spirit would soar high over thousands
of years and tens of thousands of leagues to the ends of faraway dis­
tant worlds. From the crabbed letters of worn-out books­
Pentateuch, Rashi, Bible-all of which I learned in a fragmentary,
disconnected manner, with great disorderly leaps, emerged for me in
confused and inverted form: generations and j ubilees, peoples and
lands, deeds and adventures, which had long disappeared without
trace from the book of life. I conversed with men of old and took
part in their lives and actions. Nor did I even need complete chap­
ters. I could build their long-gone world even from fragments of
verses and allusions of word segments: a strange name, a word with

' M c i r a n d t h e word for " l ig h t " a n d "one w ho makes light" have the same
I khrcw root.
Random Harvest SI

a different spelling, and a little letter kaf, a suspended letter ayin, an

inverted letter nun, the musical notation known as cow horn, or
chain, jots and tittles-were all excellent building materials. In the
hour of need, Rashi would come along and add a comment-and all
would become happily clear. Capital. I learned how to derive the hid­
den from the explicit meaning, and my power of imagination filled in
whatever was unclear in the stated text. The things that were made
known to me in Reb Meir's �eder-were really very wonderful. Just
imagine: from India to Ethiopia alone there were 1 27 countries.
Exactly the same as the years of Sarah's life, neither more nor less.
And Nineveh was a great city of the Lord, with a circumference of
three days' walk precisely. And the Gibeonites6 hitztayru (meaning
"disguised themselves " ) and hitztaydu ( meaning " provided them­
selves" )-two strange words, which I suspected were not quite
Hebrew in form-and went to the trouble of seeming to come with
worn-out garments and patched shoes, loads of moldy bread in their
packs, and split wineskins on their shoulders. And the spies came to
great cities, fortified to the skies, and when they saw in the streets the
sons of giants, a people tall and mighty, including three brothers, vi­
olent men of great renown, A�iman, Sheshai, and Talmai7 (these
three brothers, stout as cedars, with flowing locks and caps askew,
the middle one playing a harmonica, always apparently walking to­
gether and spreading fear all around them), the spies at once re­
garded themselves as grasshoppers-like the grasshoppers that
j umped and chirped i n the fields around the suburb-and rapidly
fled for their l i ves, each to his own hiding place: Nahbi son of
Vophsi-behind the gate; Gaddi son of Susi-in a hut i n the cucum­
ber field; Gamaliel son of Pedahzur-among the vineyards or among
the cabbage stalks . . . . There all of them lay hidden, peeking outside
fearfully. . . . And in Ham, that is to say, in the famous city Ham, the
Zuzim8 dwell, as is well known-what, you don't know who they
are ? They are the people that the Ammonites call Zamzumim,9 who
are different from the Emim: the latter, you should k now, inhabited
Shave Kiryatayim. And in the land of Elam reigned a terrible man of
great and fearsome name: Chedarlaomer! A veritable savage. For all

6Joshua 9:3-4 and 1 3 .

"Numbers 1 3 :28.
KGenesis 1 4:5.
9Deuteronomy 2:20.
52 Random Haroest

his searchings he could not find for himself a better name than
Chedarlaomer! Different from them all were the Kaphtorites, who
came from Kaphtor, together with the people of Pathros with the
men of Naphtah and Kasluh10 at their side. As for them, I have no
clear idea of what to make of them, but my heart told me that they
were only little people and their men were tiny, round creatures, like
dwarfs, who always dwelt together in one bunch like ants in their
holes, doing all their work in common. And how did I know that?
Perhaps because their names always came in the plural.
Apart from this, I also had some acquaintance among the
" Princes of Edom "-petty monarchs, not unlike our local
"squires"-"The Prince of Kenaz, the Prince of Gatam, the Prince
of Shobal, Prince Jeush . ' 1 Of similar kind was a certain remarkable
personage, a very successful man by the name of Anah-the same
Anah who found the yemim in the wilderness. 1 2 Lucky man !
Sometimes I wander for hours on end around the outskirts of the
suburb and poke about among the bushes, ditches, and rubbish
heaps to extract a broken pot or a horn from a dead cow, whereas
he, fortunate man, went out to graze the asses of his father
Zibeon-and at once found the yemim. What kind of creatures are
these yemim ?-I am blessed if I know! My teacher explained it to
me: "mules," that is to say, a strange kind of creature that is neither
horse nor ass, but a mixture of them both together. From which I in­
fer that the yem is made up of two parts; from its head to its navel, a
horse; and from its navel to its tail, an ass. There is also room for
another combination: the whole length of its right side is a horse,
and its left side an ass. It was a fine point and hard for me to decide.
It would appear that the yem was closely related to the family of
Ahashtaranites, sons of the Ramachites, who were, as is well
known, endowed with eight legs, four for running and four for rest­
ing . . . . At any rate Anah made a worthy find, since Scripture re­
ports it and not everyone merits that.
Og, King of Bashan, u was one of the last remaining sons of the
Rcphaim. At the time of the flood, Noah the Righteous took pity on
him and found him a place on top of the ark, and Noah handed him
10( ; ene'i' I 0: 1.1 .
" A ll i n ( ;ene'i' .lll.
l !( ; ene'i' Chapter 1 4 .
' 'Deuteronomy .l :2. The le�ends rdcrrin� ro t h e yem, yemim, and Og are taken
from R a h h i n ic· l i terature.
Random Harvest

out his food through the window everyday. Og used to sit on top,
with his forehead continually brushing the clouds and his feet dan­
gling several miles down in the water. There he sat, stuffing whole
loaves into his throat and gulping down from a large, dirty pot all
the leavings and remains of the table of Noah and his sons. And
how did that villain reward Israel? Finally, when Israel left Egypt, he
uprooted a mountain and wanted to throw it down on them. They
would have been completely flattened had not Moses entered the
breach by leaping with his battle ax more than ten cubits into the air
and smiting him on his ankle so that he died. So may they all perish !
Now all that remains of him is his iron bed,14 nine cubits long and
four cubits wide, " by the cubit of a man " : a wonderful precision,
which leaves not a shadow of doubt in the world. Admittedly, for a
man whose height reached the orb of the sun and whose ankle was
more than thirty cubits-such a small measure for a bed is a little
restrictive and serves to lessen the terri fying form of the giant in my
eyes to a considerable degree, but the holy Rashi, may his memory
be blessed, hastened to add a little comment to rescue the honor of
Og, which was not diminished i n the slightest. " By the cubit of a
man" -that means by the cubit of Og himself-and the cubit of Og,
as is well known, was several miles long. In which case the bed was
in keeping with Og's dignity and henceforth there is no reason for
regret. I n deed, the bed, with its p illow and cushions, remains at
Rabbat Amon until this day, and if you are not too lazy, why not
go and see it for yourself? It's big enough for a whole regiment to
sleep on.

10

M Y WAY H O M E A N D M Y j O U R N E Y
TH R O U G H W I L D E R N E S S A N D S E A

Overflowing with clear and precise information o f such kind, I used

to leave for home each day at sunset. My companions scattered hap­
pily and noisily to their homes or to their pleasures while I remained
alone along the way. My father's house stood apart at some distance
from the suburb, near a grove, and to get there I had to walk alone

l4Deuteronomy 3:1 1 .
54 Random Harvest

along a path heavy with sand, which wound its way between rows
of trees, across a desolate stretch of land without a house, and cross
en route another place of danger: a little bridge arching over a canal
where, as rumor had it, a little devil from a company of imps had
taken up residence. This little devil, however, was well disposed to
children, so tradition maintained, and meant them no harm.
Nevertheless, when I saw the golden halo of the setting sun disap­
pearing beyond the treetops-my heart skipped a beat. Across the
river, from behind the grove, a hidden "cuckoo" reached me and
frightened me a little, as I slowly made my way, alone and forsaken,
between the rows of trees at the sides of the path. Reddish drops of
light flickered above me, my feet sank into the sand, and my mourn­
ful spirit carried me away into the distance . . . .
I was not walking to my home, but I was a traveler, a wayfarer,
with staff and pack, crossing land and sea. Countless days had
passed since-I had forgotten when-I had set out to wander about
the earth, and thus far, alack-a-day, I had found no rest. I had
climbed mountains, I had descended valleys, I had wandered from
city to city and from village to village, and nobody knew who I was,
from whence I came, or whither I was going.
On the way I had joined a caravan of Ishmaelites or a convoy of
Dodanites. 1 5 I would not move from their side. Wherever they went,
I went, and wherever they camped, I camped . . . .
By day we passed through deserts, a dry and thirsty land, a place
of serpents, snakes, and scorpions. The young men walked beside
their camels laden with roll upon roll of silk, satin, embroidery, pur­
ple and scarlet, and piled high with aromatic gums and resins, bal­
sam, and all kinds of spices; while the old men, white bearded and
wrapped in turbans, rode at the head in splendid raiment, on bright
she-asses, with their slippered and sandaled feet almost dragging on
the ground and tracing grooves in the sand.
At night we would turn aside to camp in the woods, and there we
would light bonfires and sleep around them on the ground, com­
pletely encircled with a curved wall of stones to protect us from wild
beasts, in the manner, according to Rashi, of our ancestor Jacob . . . .
At one place we were joined by Gibeonites, those cunning peasants
with their ragged garments and patched-up shoes, and their cracked,
worn-out winesk i n s . Throughout the journey they walked to one
Random Harvest 55

side, a self-contained company, with sad countenance and frightened

eyes, as though nursing some secret. No one in the caravan knows
who they are and what they intend, except for me, Shmulik, because I
know all their su bterfuges in advance from the Book of Joshua . . . .
If God had led me that way-I would have turned aside to spend
a night in the study house of Shem and Eber, a place where our an­
cestor Jacob hid for no less than fourteen years when he fled from
his brother Esau. I am convinced that I would still have found the
lectern at which Jacob studied and the bench on which he slept,
standing behind the stove until this day. . . .
And thus passed days, weeks, months . . . . We traversed the
wilderness of Zin, we covered the desert of Paran-and still no end.
Our feet were swollen, our shoes and garments worn out, our bread
had become dry and moldy, and our water skins, without a drop of
moisture left, had all split. We were almost at the end of our tether,
when suddenly-hurray!-our eyes beheld Hazazon-Tamar P 6 The
men of the caravan revived! The legs of the asses and camels perked
up like those of royal steeds, and before the sun set and the Sabbath
arrived we all reached the place of rest. There, in Hazazon-Tamar
the caravan found twelve springs 17 of cool, sweet water and seventy
date palms, and they spent the Sabbath there at the water. From
Hazazon-Tamar onward the way became m uch easier, a positive
pleasure; from Rimmon-Perez to Mithkah,I S from Mithkah to Hor­
hagidgad,19 and from Hor-hagidgad to Jotbathah.ZO Towns and vil­
lages passed like flocks of sheep. All the journeys of the forty years
in the wilderness passed by in no time.
And suddenly-! am i n a ship. It is bound for Ophir. The sea-the
Sea of Tarshish.2 1 Sea and sky. At the side of the ship an old man lies
dozing on his bundle. Is that not the prophet Jonah? . . . If we reach
our destination safely-we shall not lack booty! Gold is as common
as stones! We will fill the ship's hold with gold. If we stir ourselves,
we will turn aside to visit the land of Havilah, which is surrounded
by the river Pishon.22 The gold of that land is of the highest quality,

t 6£xodus 1 5:27 and Numbers 33:9.

t7Numbers 33:9.
tBNumbers 33:20-2 8 .
I 9Numbers 33:29-32.
20Numbers 33:33.
21Jonah 1 .
22Genesis 2 : 1 2-13.
56 Random Harvest

of the very best, 96 percent pure. And there is also crystal and onyx.
And in my estimation, the river Sambation23 too must surely be not
far from there, from those places.
When I awoke from my reveries-the sun had already gone down
behind the grove across the river. Golden threads from the bright
setting sun played among the trees, constantly slipping and falling
from one leaf to the next. . . . A moment later-and the sun was
swallowed into its sheath. Amid the trees in the distant grove, j ust as
on previous days at this time, a tall and upright shape appeared
again, head and shoulders above all the rest, peering angrily over
the whole plain. Who was this? A tree? A giant? An armed robber?
"An evil man watching a righteous man and seeking to kill him

And here too is the little bridge and the canal beneath. The water
has lost its sparkle and flows weeping silently with hidden longing
and the grief of twilight . . . . Even blind Ochrim, who sits here on a
stone all day with his pack and his bowl begging for alms in a
hoarse, quavering voice, he too has disappeared. Desolation and
sorrow. The imp . . .
And I close my eyes in an orgy of fear, and with choking throat I
run and run for home.

11

TH E P I T C H - M A K E R S ' Q UA R T E R
AND ITs S u R RO U N D I N G S

In Ham, the great city Ham, dwelt the Zuzim. N ineveh was a
mighty city of God, conta ining many men and beasts. Bethar,24
which the enemy destroyed, had four hundred marketplaces, and in
each marketplace there were four hundred stalls, and on one side
there was slaughter and mayhem, and on the other, weddings and
celehrations, without either knowing what was happening else­
where. And across the river Sambation are the huge, red-headed
Jews, and if any one of our people happens to find his way there,
they put him in a coat pocket like a nut, for example, or a handker-

2 1A lq�endary river. See next se(tion.

24A la r!\e (ity in .Judaea destroyed d ur i n!\ the Bar Kochha revolt, c . 1 35 C. f.
Random Harvest S7

chief, because of his small stature, and pay no more attention to

him.
In the pitch-makers' quarter there were none of these wonders. Not
even in the slightest. The pitch-makers' quarter was only a small resi­
dential area, quiet and poverty-stricken. If anyone sneezes at one
end-somebody at the other end would say, " Bless you. " If a cock
crows at noon in one of the courtyards in its center-the sound
echoes right across the river. . . . I only had to climb on the roof of our
Sukkah or the fork of the hollow sumac tree in front of our house­
and the whole quarter and its surroundings lay stretched out before
me like a garment. I see in front of me about thirty clay houses and
low wooden huts, all of them with low crooked walls, small win­
dows, and patched roofs. The lower ones were crowded into the val­
ley, peeking humbly out of the ground alongside the grass and hug­
ging the shade of lonely trees, chestnuts and hazelnuts, planted beside
them; the upper ones stood comfortably on both sides of the road,
looking as though they had got there by deliberately escaping from
the valley in order to relieve their crookedness a little and to ease their
twisted limbs. Two or three of these laggard houses, including that of
my teacher, had delayed their ascent and remained standing precari­
ously and hesitantly in the middle of the slope-unwilling to descend
and not daring to reach the top. On summer days the valley was full
of tall, wild plants: thorns and thistles; and in winter-a layer of deep
snow, so that the houses were reduced to half their height. And there
were times when the chimneys were all that could be seen . . . .
Throughout the year the q uarter seemed half-asleep. An air of
slumber engulfed it on every side: from the wide, sandy track, which
reached out to it from the forest, cutting it in half; from the solitary
oxcart that sometimes crawled along that track, its wheels half­
buried in the sand; from the peasant in broad linen breeches, gum
boots, and cap, driving the cart with a pipe between his teeth, and
from the lazy "gee-up" unconsciously escaping the peasant's lips to­
ward the slow-moving horned oxen; from the silent groves and
fields; from the tall golden corn waving i n the nearby meadows i n
the quiet daytime wind, a n d from the chirping a n d humming emerg­
ing uninterruptedly from the grass, dulling all the senses, and mak­
ing the eyelids droop; from the low, worn-out wooden crosses
planted on the mounds i n the gentile cemetery and peeking with
quiet grief beyond the rickety fence; from the sandy plain stretching
like an endless desert from behind that cemetery. . . .
58 Random Harvest

The inhabitants of the quarter are equally unlike the Zuzim or the
Zamzumim. They belong to the humble of the earth, poor, quiet
men, lowly of spirit, and feckless. They seek no greatness nor aspire
ro wonders beyond them. They deal in pennies, and their merchan­
dise are leftovers and remnants. In summer, an important part of
their liveli hood derives from tar and pitch, a dumb fluid, which
drips silently from one vessel to another, making no noise and un­
complaining. A man will place in the little open space in front of the
door of his house or the door of his shop a tub and a pot from
which he sells measures of pitch and tar to peasants passing along
the road with their wagons. Between one customer and the next, the
sun hangs idly in the heavens-and the pitch lies quietly for hours
on end, motionless in the tubs and pots, gleaming in perfect tran­
quillity and rich blackness and idly serving as a free mirror, a black,
round mirror for the sun, the sky, light clouds, a passing girl, or a
wandering bird.
The river that flows round the pitch-makers' quarter is called
Titirov, and not Pishon; nor does it really "flow round" it, but for
most of the year it proceeds innocently in a straight line without ex­
cessive twists or turns. Quietly and almost casually, it accepts as ad­
ditional income all kinds of gifts offered both openly and in secret,
effluents and rainwater and water from the depths, carried to it un­
ceasingly from streams and rivulets, fountains and drains, but its
surface is always facing upward innocently, as if to say, " Do with
me what you will, 0 Father in heaven, behold, I am in your hand. "
In the hot season there were times when i t gradually contracted i n
all humility and modesty-until i t almost dried u p altogether. Then
sandbanks and protuberances were revealed in its midst, like little
islands, covered with reeds and sedge, and in the heat of the day
Children of Israel from the suburb would come and camp in groups,
naked as on the day they were born, stretched out on the sand, hid­
den by the reeds and bushes, eating lentils together or cracking
hazelnuts in company. Sometimes they would light a fire there and
boil a kettle. At such a time, they seemed to me like the men of the
caravan of Ra bba bar bar Hanna,25 who thoughtlessly landed on
the back of a great fish, baking and cooking on it, and who were al­
most drowned in the depths.

2 1 A Ta lnnu.Ji.: 'age noted for his exaggerated tales.

Random Harvest 59

Some of the lads were stouthearted, bold, and brave and risked
their lives by crossing to the far bank of the river, where they wa l­
lowed in the sand and, without fear or shame, danced naked like
wild goats, between the trees and thickets of the forest, filling it with
noise and shouting. I wondered whether they would return from
there in safety. They could be in peril from a bear bereft or a wolf
from the steppes, which might suddenly pounce upon them and
carry one of them off to its lair. . . .
But once a year, when the snows began to melt, even the river
Titirov would overflow its channels and become somewhat turbulent.
Then, from afar, it would carry to the suburb on its waves and ice
floes pieces of board, an overturned bowl, barrels, logs of wood, a
dismantled door, a watchman's hut, and sometimes even live geese
and hens in their coops, cackling bitterly, or a pile of fodder with a
dog on top barking bewilderedly. But no matter how mischievous, the
river remained in good spirits and kindly. Its waves clapped hands,
laughing and winking as though beckoning and calling to everyone:
" Help yourselves! First come, first served! " And the Children of Israel
would suddenly take heart and risk their lives hurrying to the river
with pitchforks to loot and pillage. Fathers and sons would roll up
their coattails and trouser cuffs and wade in up to their waists,
snatching what booty they could with their rakes. The story goes that
Mordechai-Aaron caught with his rake a perfect one-year-old calf
tied to its crib. He put it i n a pen and raised it until it became a cow,
and now it supports him and his family comfortably and honorably.

12

TH E G R O V E T H A T L I E S B E Y O N D
T H E R I V E R TIT I R O V

The grove on both sides o f t h e river contai ned neither the lofty
cedars of Lebanon nor the tall oaks of Bashan. So what was there?
Humble bushes, low thickets of reeds, willow branches for the
Hosanna celebrations,26 pine thickets for roofing the booths on

260n the seventh day of Sukkot it is customary to walk in procession i n the syna­
gogue bearing willow branches.
60 Random Harvest

Sukkot, and thin, pliable twigs from which to make birches for the
bathhouse. The elders of the quarter would point at sawn-off tree
stumps of astonishing dimensions but now broken and rotting,
which protrude from the ground to this day and bear silent witness
to a generation of mighty giants that had been removed from the
world to make way for a corrupt and worthless generation. Among
these sawn-off stumps were those that remained moist and fresh for
many days, and from year to year with the coming of spring their
severed veins would ooze a reddish j uice like tears mixed with
blood. They weep and mourn away their very essence and refuse to
be comforted for the glory of their strength that had been cut off
from the world in its prime and before its time. The voice of their
blood calls out from the ground: "Why was a hand stretched out
against us?" According to the experts, this j uice could not be used,
because it was like the tears of the dead. Of that generation of patri­
archs, nothing remained but individual trees, wretched cripples af­
flicted by God and stricken with sickness, twisted and hump­
backed, with torn bellies and cleft skulls, with triple trunks and
dried-up boughs; outcast trees without proper shape or form, re­
sembling strange creatures of the animal kingdom such as monkeys,
apes, camels, leopards, and sirens, or like demons, devils, and cen­
taurs of impish kind who had been transmogrified into trees planted
in place like nails forever to astonish folk and cast dread on night
wayfarers through the forest.
These wretches, whom the ax had spared and left for a l i fe of
scorn and shame after their time, were the particular favorites of my
friends and myself, and many of them were known to us by nick­
names according to their strange shape; on holidays they served us
as meeting places for games and capers.
One of them I knew, a bent old willow, with a split trunk and two
empty holes facing each other at the top-hollows that had once
held boughs, now fallen off the tree from dryness and old age like
decaying teeth-looked like a big, dry fish, with a torn back and
both eyes gouged out, standing upright on its tail, its belly like an
open grave with a gaping mouth-ready to swallow alive anything
approaching it . . . . Another one, a crooked, twisted pine, was like a
flying serpent with a rider on its back raising a whip above it. Yet
another was remarkably like a menorah with five branches, which
everyone called: Menorah.
Random Harvest 61

One hump-backed elm, mindlessly shaming its old age, had

turned turtle, like a mischievous imp, and stood on its head with its
legs shamelessly stretched out toward heaven. A fat old poplar bent
itself to the ground like a bow, and from its back a young, thin
poplar, white as pure silver, rose upright like a suckling with green
foliage, treading on its father's back and reaching for the sky. . . .
One might imagine that many of these strange trees are the sole
idolatrous remnants of sacred groves, the abominations of ancient
peoples, whose forms the Holy One, blessed be He, had altered and
left as a memorial for a later generation to see . . . .
From among the bushes their bare dry trunks sometimes thrust
themselves aloft, their branches stretching into the air like arms.
These were the skeletons of dead mummified trees, which had never
been buried but remain attached to their pile of roots fixed in the
"world of chaos," with hard, shrunken bodies, their bones dry and
blackened by drought and rain, all full of holes on the outside and
hollow within.
The young hooligans of the quarter, pasturing the pigs and calves
of their father Ivan i n the grove, or the heder children coming on
Lag be-Omer to shoot bows and arrows, even if they were to search
with candles, would find there-! can guarantee-neither the yemim
nor the badger nor the buffalo nor the roebuck. So what would they
find? Toadstools and fungi and the jawbone of a dead horse, pigs'
feet, and miraculously even cloud-fall mushrooms, which look like
egg-white from the Book of Job, or a kind of congealed and q uiver­
ing fish jelly for the last meal of the Sabbath . . . . The women call
this kind of concoction: " Mother Rachel's Tears, " and according to
them, it is helpful for women who have difficulty i n bearing chil­
dren. Any boy who was lucky enough to alight on this delicacy­
once in a blue moon-would dash home joyfully to his mother, who
would present drops of it to her pregnant neighbors to hang in little
bags round their necks as a charm.
I have also heard tell that hazelnuts grow i n the grove and Kol
Nidre pears. And some people testify that they have found apples
from the land of Israel there. Believe it if you wish. I have not been
fortunate enough to see them with my own eyes. At some suitable
time it might be worth entering the forest and scouring its thickets.
It ought to be investigated. Who knows what might await me there?
I often ponder about the forest.
62 Random Harvest

13

TH E P I T C H - M A K E R s ' Q uA R T E R
A N D TA L E S O F O L D E N TI M E S

For all that the pitch-makers' quarter was small, serene, and poor, in
my eyes it was the very hub of the world. The essential tales of cre­
ation were told about it. Here, above the roofs were hung the lumi­
naries of the six days of creation; here, in the gardens and allotments
and in the grove, the earth brought forth grass and plants and pro­
duced fruit trees and shade trees; in the river Titirov and in the ponds
of the quarter the water swarmed with living creatures, fish, whales,
frogs, crabs, and leeches and various kinds of winged creatures.
The Holy One, Blessed be He, surely fills the whole world with His
glory-but He chose his fixed abode in the sky at a place directly
above the suburb, and He concentrated the power of His Divine
Presence in the Holy Ark of our synagogue, between the wings of the
cherubim hovering above the curtain.
The great events related in the Pentateuch and in Rashi and in the
other holy books, which I studied in Reb Meir's �eder, could all be
properly confirmed in the suburb and its surroundings. And there are
many matters that I find hard to determine where they were first re­
vealed to me and from whence they first came into my mind,
whether from the written page or from somewhere outside it. I could
point my finger to the place in the field where the sale of Joseph took
place. The pit into which he was cast could still be found in its exact
form, just as it was in ancient days, right down to the present. It was
the very same pit as in the Pentateuch, with all the obvious signs, not
one of which was missing. Just as the pit in the Pentateuch was
empty, without water, so was mine. Moreover, it contained, in my
opinion, both snakes and scorpions, j ust as did Joseph's pit.
If I had wanted to take the risk of crossing that field alone, I am
cenain that I would at once have met a caravan of Ishmaelites. And
the cows that Pharaoh saw in a dream were the very same as those
grazing in the meadow on the banks of the river litirov, or the de­
scendants of their descendants; and that humble river, crawling
slowly and qu ietly as always alongside our su burb, would never
guess that these cows walking innocently along its banks, chewing
their cud, were of such fine pedigree.
Random Harvest

Nor was I unaware of the path on which Bathya h, Pharaoh's

da ughter, and her handmaids descended to bathe in the river.
Throughout the summer days it stretched out from the su burb to
the river like an extended tongue and reached down to the water.
The day was burning like an oven. The path wound its way brightly
between little grassy mounds and hollows, at times disappearing
and swallowed up among bushes and standing corn. The princess
walked with mincing gait in front, with her handma idens behind,
her head covered with blue silk edged with silver; she was clad in a
fine white robe, with light badger-skin shoes embroidered in gold on
her feet; her handmaidens walked after her barefoot, the soles of
their feet pleasantly scorched in the glowing sand of the path. While
walking, they stretch out their hands to the corn and the bushes to
pluck ripe ears of wheat and red currants, their robes rustling
against the stalks and ears of corn with a faint and pleasant sound.
Colorful butterflies dart a bout i n the air i n front of them, while
golden bees and blue flies buzz in their ears. And among the reeds
and rushes on the banks of the river Titirov, in a tracery of sweet,
light shadows, at that very hour, the infant Moses lies fastened in his
little ark mewling and crying, "Ahoo, ahoo!" Nor does the little fel­
low know that his sister, Miriam, namely, Zlata, daughter of the
widow Deborah, stands at some distance hidden behind a Kol Nidre
pear tree, wrapped in a kerchief and shading her eyes with her palm,
looking anxiously and fearfully toward the river, with beating heart .
. . . Our forefathers of old, Terah, father of Abraham and father of
Nahor, always dwelt beyond the river, on the other side of the
Titirov. There they sat within the grove, carving wood and making
idols. And on market days, when old man Terah had to bring his
wares for sale, he would put the idols i n sacks and baskets, ferry
them across the river in a boat, bring them to the market, and set up
a stall there among the other merchants near the gentile cemetery,
close to Baal Peor, that is, the great idol fixed on a high wooden
cross, planted in the middle of a square, a place that serves as a mar­
ket for the peasants and their wagons from the nearby villages. I
imagined that on the great sandy plain that stretches out behind the
cemetery, far, far away from the suburb, the Children of Israel who
left Egypt settled in their tribes. There, in that great and terrible
wilderness, "their tents were spread out like the brooks," and each
man stayed in his camp, by his flag, according to their hosts and
64 Random Harvest

their insignia, exactly like the camps of our army, which pitches its
tents on this plain every summer.
I was sure too that the episode of Balaam also took place on the
broad road that passes before our house and runs on between the
corn and the plowed land until it finally disappears in the forest.
Here Balaam passed, riding on his she-ass, his two lads with him on
his way to curse Israel, and here on the crown of the road by
Trochim's barley field, the Angel of the Lord stood i n front of him
like a Satan with a drawn sword in hand flashing in the sun. It all
happened very suddenly, as though the angel had sprung from the
ground or j umped from one of the pits among the barley. Balaam, of
course, was not aware of him, and continued riding on his way, but
the she-ass suddenly turned off the road and continued through the
field between the stalks of barley. Later she turned aside again and
came to a narrow place, the little alley between Yanka's garden and
the cucumber patch of deaf Matthew, with a fence of canes and
poles on one side and a hedge of interwoven branches on the other.
There is no choice, Reb Balaam. You are caught in a trap. Get
down, if you will be so kind, from the she-ass and take hold of her
tail and pull her backwards; you can turn neither right nor left. . . .
Everyone knows how it ended. For all the wicked man's efforts,
his evil design was not fulfilled-so he went and proclaimed a fair!
A great fair, like the one that took place last year at one of the gen­
tile festivals in the cemetery square around the cross. All the
Midianites and the katsaps of the villages and settlements both near
and far converged on this fair and brought with them in their wag­
ons the daughters of Midian: plump, red-cheeked wenches, veiled
and wrapped in fringed kerchiefs, in bright, embroidered dresses,
weighed down with coral necklaces and glass beads, ornaments on
their throats, bracelets of bronze and glass nose rings and ears
adorned with earrings. Resplendent in all this finery, a delight to be­
hold, the daughters of Midian wandered about the market by the
booths and the stalls of the Jewish peddlers and merchants of those
desert days, drinking kvass and cracking sunflower seeds, and, in
general, behaving wantonly. At first these sons of Israel paid no heed
to them. What concern was it of theirs? Let the daughters of the un­
circumcized rejoice! They might be defiled, but their money was
good . But toward eveni ng, when the youths of the neighboring
quarter each caught hold of his girl and the dancing commenced all
Random Harvest 65

round the cross to the sound of flute and hurdy-gurdy and to the
noise of cymbal and drum-at that very hour, alas, Satan's wi les
succeeded, and the sons of Israel, woe to their shame, went whoring
after the daughters of Midian and were joined to Baa l Peor. . . . And
the image of abomination was stuck in the middle of the square to
this day, and every passerby spits three times and whispers a well­
known verse.
There are many lofty mountains in the world: Mount Ararat,
Mount Sinai, Mount Hor, Mount Nebo; but the loftiest of them all
was none other than this mountain that rises beyond the valley, with
its cleft summit h igh in the sky. That is the top of Pisgah, which
looks over the face of the wilderness. Light clouds meet it as they
pass by, leaving strands of themselves attached to its boulders and
hillocks; and if any man should climb it and live, he would find frag­
ments lying abandoned all over the mountain for anyone to claim,
but no one does so. On its exposed flank, some sections had been
detached by a rockfall or by digging, and the exposed places looked
in their reddish color like living flesh of the mountain, with holes
and caves in which the Moabites certainly lay hidden, lying in am­
bush for Israel in the desert at the waterfall of Arnon. The
Moabites-it stands to reason-certainly took their s hare ! They
were sitting in their h ideouts waiting for the Israelites to pass
through the valley, in order to fall upon them from behind-when
suddenly the two mountains from both sides of the valley pressed
together and the projections on one side entered the hollows on the
other, like genies in their bottles, and all the Moabites were crushed
like bugs ! And the Holy One, Blessed be He, was not satisfied until
he had brought up the well of Miriam-that beloved well!-which
meanders here murmuring at the bottom of the valley below; and it
washed skulls and torn-off limbs out of the valley, floating them
away before the eyes of all Israel into the river Titirov, namely the
Brook of Arnon. . . .
The quarter was indeed a remarkable place, a kind of miniature
hub of the world. All the works of creation and history since the
first generations were enfolded within it like the legendary garment
in a nutshell. And there was nothing in the Torah that did not have
a corresponding explicit example or near-parallel in the quarter.
Which borrowed from which? An unsolved question. Perhaps the
Holy One, Blessed be He, looked into the Pentateuch and Rashi and
created the quarter on that basis; but the opposite is also possible:
66 Random Harvest

He may have looked at the quarter and its surwundings and then
written the Pentateuch and Rashi from them. Or perhaps they have
been intertwined from the very beginning of time, with neither of
them preceding the other.

14

N A T U R A L H I S T O RY A N D A R T

Quite apart from all this, Reb Meir's valley provided us with suit­
able material for the study of natural h istory, the various species of
plant and animal life, as well as all kinds of art. On summer days
when Reb Meir took his midday nap, my classmates and I would go
out to sit behind the house on the valley slope, a handy place for
games and idle chatter. There we were at liberty to do whatever our
hearts desired, each one according to God's wish. Micah and Gadi,
the liveliest of all, ran ahead into the thickets and bushes that grew
on the hill slopes, climbing assiduously from one thicket to the next
in search of red currants. According to the tradition that the pupils
handed down to one another, those bushes were supposed to bear
red currants every year, except that not one of these lively lads had
ever come back with currants in his hand. Apparently there were
others more lively still who got there first. They said the goats were
to blame.
Velvele, a young imp, at once climbed up to the top of the tree,
where he sat hidden and threw stones at every peasant passing with
his cart along the track at the top of the valley. A kind of David and
Goliath.
Nahum and Todi, both brave and active hunters-experts on flies
and grasshoppers and locusts and every kind of wasp as well as
gnats and butterflies-produced the tools of their trade, various
kinds of needles, tubes, stings, piercing hooks, and pincers and all
kinds of thin and delicate instruments of destruction, and immedi­
ately set about their work performing various "experiments" on the
tiny, wretched creatures that fell into their hands. A few moments
later-a small but very beautiful coach, made of folded paper,
started out, harnessed to a pair of shining locusts, with a merry
band of fl ies, wasps, and butterflies of various shapes and hues:
golden, blue, red , spotted, sitting enthroned inside in pairs and
Random Harvest 67

dancing in groups roundabout outside. They were fixed to their

seats or to one another by means of thin, sharp thorns thrust
through their insides and backs, all of them with quivering bodies
and tiny legs, praying in terror as they hovered between life and
death, and piercing the sky with their buzzing. But our two natural­
ists, Nahum and Todi, were not at all concerned and concentrated
on their work with philosophic calm.
Hershele, a pot-bellied child as round as a barrel, sat among the
tall grass secretly fixing a butterfly known as "dead man's sku l l " on
a small copper coin, in the hope and perfect faith that on the next
day he would wake up and find beneath it two coins . . . . This secret
was revealed to him in a whisper and at the cost of two buttons and
a slice of apple by Netka the thief, who, immediately after receiving
his reward, took to his heels and disappeared behind the ruin to
hunt for Spanish flies.
One group of pupils was gathering in the grass and stringing to­
gether " pearls," namely, fine, rounded, flattish grains, like small
dried figs; and another group was busy planting and weeding or
making bridges and sailing ships across " Miriam's Well," the canal
at the bottom of the valley.
At first I was attracted to the activities of one of these groups, but
soon enough and without my knowing quite how, I found myself
outside. . . . Unwittingly like a weak link in a chain, I slipped out of
the playing group and nobody noticed my absence. Like a discarded
and forgotten object, I lay among the grass, hidden by stalks and
leaves, with no one to see me or know about me. That was how I
wanted it. I had no need of them or their commotion. Seeing but un­
seen, I would l ie by myself to one side, concealed i n the bosom of
the world, left to myself and my dreams, watching, listening, and
keeping silent.
Here comes a crawling ant, climbing up a grass stalk, falling, and
climbing again. This tiny little creature was wandering i n a thicket
of shade with no way out. And here is a ladybug, the horse of our
master MosesP It is stuck to the back of my hand l i ke half a lentil:
round, reddish with black spots, hard, smooth and gleami ng, as
though clad i n polished armor. It looks as though it should be fixed
like a ruby in a signet ring. Suddenly the armor is parted in the mid-

2Tfhe "cow of Moshe Rabbeinu" is a Hebrew translation of the Yiddish for "la­
dybug": "Moshe Rabbeinus Ki'ile."
68 Random Harvest

die. Slender flanks gleam, and the little creature is gone! The red in­
sect has flown away! May God be with it and may it fly in peace. I
shall do it no harm. It is a creature like me, fashioned by the Holy
One, Blessed be He. And who knows, perhaps it is just now going
on a mission for the Omnipresent. The Holy One, Blessed be He,
makes use of everything for His missions, even a frog or a gnat­
apart from the spider, which is anathema to heaven and the crea­
tures of the earth because it brought fire into the Temple.
The same applies to the blades of grass. Each one of them has an
angel appointed in heaven who slaps it and orders it: " Grow ! " And
that is why blades of grass sometimes waken from their sleep in
great haste, as fear and trembling takes hold of them, and they en­
courage each other in a whisper: " Grow, grow, the angel is slapping
and saying, 'Grow."' It would have been nice to know what he slaps
them with: his middle finger or a little strap.
Hush ! Right at my ear-and perhaps inside it-the sound of a hid­
den melody, drawn out in a still, small voice, smaller than small, a
mere hairbreadth . . . . A gnat is playing! The nearby voices of my
happy classmates suddenly seem absolutely remote, reaching me as
though from the other side of a thick wall or through pillows and
cushions, and swallowed up and negated by the sound of the sun
cutting through the heavens and ruling the world with its might. And
the faint melody still reverberates in my ear, i n my innermost soul.
Why do you vibrate above me, melody, and why do you come down
to me ? Stretch your strings, my mosquitoes, extend them well, strike
a deeper note. That's what I like, that is, nice and sweet. . . . Now I
am floating and melting into the tiny, pure cloud in the brighmess of
the sky. Peace upon you, my comrades! Peace upon you, my mother
and my sisters! Peace, peace to far and near! . . . I am leaving you
now on a long, long road . . . . I am going to Feigele. . . .

15

IN MY NATIVE V I L L A G E

The melody continues, my eyes close o f their own accord-and I am

in my native village:
. . . A bright morning. Sun and a glowing sky. Clay houses with
thatched roofs gleam between the green grass and the dew-flecked
Random Harvest 69

trees. Each house has its garden, its courtyard, and its paddock. Pots
and earthenware jars hang like hats on pegs and on fence palings
and on the branches of trees. Cherry trees and su nflowe rs peek
through the fences and railings. Every fence and every railing has its
own cool shade alongside it. The pump handles of the wells creak
haughtily up and down, and the buckets drip pure, live drops of sil­
ver and crystal. The voice of a housewife and the voice of a servant
girl. The neighing of horses, grunting of pigs, lowing of cattle, and
bleating of sheep-the pleasing sounds of animal husbandry. The
wafting smell of man ure and the warm scent of milk. The roofs
spread incense to the skies from their chimneys and send up pillars
of smoke. On a lofty field in the distance a windmill spreads its sails.
And there beyond the windmill, at the end of the world-are undu­
lating stretches of field, tracks, paths, forest, pure white mists . . . .
At the end of the village on both sides, a little green hill slants up­
ward. It has a house and courtyard at the top and a house and
courtyard at the bottom, gate facing gate. A yellow path divides the
foliage of the hill stretching from one gate to the other. Hens and
their tender chicks go out in fam i l ies for their morning pickings.
Swallows dart through the air like arrows. Twittering, chirping, gur­
gling, and tweet-tweeting-the delightful sounds of morning.
Suddenly at the open window of the bottom house a thin, pale child
appears, apparently about five years old, wearing a white shirt. It is
I. I stand at the windowsill clad only in my shirt, my eyes half-closed
against the flood of light, and the j oy of morning in my face and i n
my bones. M y head is lifted up t o the top of the hill, a n d my eyes
are fixed thirstily on the open window. My eyes seek only for her,
my one companion and my " bride," for Feigele. A moment later she
appears in the window above. Warm, sweet, and radiant, she stands
there in her white shift and her golden curls, her face bright and
shining, and all of her as fresh as the morning, all radiance and
charm.
" Feigele! "-1 shout toward her with outstretched arms as though
ready to fly, and a wave too sweet to bear floods my heart.
" Shmuli k ! " She chirrups from on high, stretching out her little
hands toward me . . . .
The vision disappears. The melody continues still. Another scene
appears .
. . . The village after rain. The clouds have dispersed and the sun
is shining. A great blessing has descended on the earth and a fresh,
70 Random Harvest

polished light shines upon it. The world is pure, pure. Everything
looks renewed-from the blue of the sky to the green of garden and
field. The mighty oak, with its wide top and heavy branches, stands
on its mound in the middle of the village, fresh and more splendid
than ever. The earth has drunk its fill and to spare, and it proclaims
abundant joy to all both near and far in the song of r unning
streams of water and in the trembling and sparkling rills. Roofs
and trees drip gold, while buds and blossoms don necklaces of
pearls and weep with happiness. There on the wet sand of the hill
path lies a fragment of glass sparkling and sparkling as though it
had suddenly achieved greatness. God i n Heaven! How many suns!
How many skies! Every pond has its own sun within it, every pud­
dle reflects its own heaven. Fragments of worlds upside down and
shreds of new heavens beneath the water beyond counting-3 1 0
worlds!28 Birds among the branches and tender chicks within the
grass are wild with delight, opening their throats, spreading their
wings, stretching wide their little mouths, and singing for all they
are worth . . . . Song and praise above, melody and j ubilation below.
Suddenly two children, Feigele and I, barefoot and shirts blowing,
emerge hand in hand from the house. They walk together, upright,
keeping in step, with throats outstretched, heads high, mouths
open-and they, too, sing for all they are worth. Without tune or
words-only sound and exaltation. Like the song of the crane on a
treetop in the forest, at the top of its voice. " La-la " and " Ia-la-la "
and again " I a-la" and " Ia-la-la " ! One great joy, divine j oy, has
seized them all, the streams of water, birds, trees, grasses, the frag­
ment of glass, and the two children, sweeping them away in the
multitude of its waves. One happiness, the happiness of all the
world, is above them, and one sound in all their throats-song and
praise to the Lord of all worlds . . . .
And the melody continues and again I have a vision:
. . . Toward evening. She and I are alone in the village square. The
sun is about to set behind a hill, and the whole square with its blos­
soms and flowers is all bathed in a reddish glow, the gold of the set­
ting sun. The leaves and grass are transparent and drenched with
light and the white geese feeding there are fa intly tinged with gold­
gilded silver! The sides of the solitary trees drip blood, and their
shadows keep lengthening, lengthening. All about there is great si-

2'A Ta lrnudic figurl" of spl"l"Ch llll"a ning many worlds.

Random Harvest 71

lence. A sweet dread and wondrous grief. The butterflies spread

their wings and flutter slowly over the plants. One can hear the
grinding teeth of calves and colts scattered across the common,
chewing in silent contemplation . . . . reigele in her white dress flut­
ters like a bird from bush to bush, gathering flowers, and I follow
her. How much she has managed to gather today! She is holding a
complete bunch! Suddenly she draws back: she has seen a dead
house snake in the grass. " Don't be afraid ! "-1 calm her confi­
dently-"lt's dead, look! "-and I pick up the snake in my hand. I
am quite familiar with snakes. They are to be found in our garden,
and I am not afraid of them. " Drop it, drop it! " she cries in terror
and draws back-"Throw it away ! " A spirit of bravado takes hold
of me and I shake the snake toward her, as though it were a whip.
She flees, frightened and screaming, and I, cruel fellow, pursue her.
As she runs, the flowers fall from her hand one by one and lie scat­
tered behind her-blue, yellow, white; the strong radiance of sunset
filters through her thin dress and earlobes, and I chase after her,
snake in hand. Suddenly, I don't know how it occurred, Feigele has
disappeared. She has slipped a s i de and gone. But the spirit of
bravado has not deserted me and I continue to run on regardless,
not after Feigele, but toward the setting sun. How near it is. Just be­
yond that hill. I shall pursue and reach it. I shall get there and see. A
hand takes hold of me and carries me forward-and I am at the top
of the hill. I lift my eyes-and turn to stone: fire, fire ! All the corners
of heaven and earth are consumed with fire. Streams of fire and
mountains of fire. Palaces of fire and forests of fire. Fire burns
within the fire, and fire consumes fire. Red fire, white fire, and green
fire. A chariot of fire and horses of fire stampede, and burning lions
pursue them hotfoot. And behold, the dread and glorious God de­
scending i n fire. . . .
My heart has grown faint with the fear of God, and I hide my face
and flee . . . .
The melody continues i n wondrous fashion, and once again I see a
VISIOn:
. . . It is noon, at the height of summer. The light is too strong to
bear, and the day cannot contain its brightness. I am sitting alone i n
the middle of a path covered with burning sand, with my eyes fixed
on the forest. I can see only one flank, a corner's edge adjoining the
village, but I cannot see it all. I sit facing it in wonder. As always i n
the past, it confronts me with i t s dark secret from afar, b u t I am
72 Random Harvest

small and ignorant and I cannot understand it. There i s no one

round about, only heat and silence. The wafting scent of dry dust.
The stones in the field are scorched by the sun, and the fences burn
like an oven. Trees and bushes are too weary to weave the threads
of their shadows beneath them. All strength is dissipated, all spirit
drained. Dried-up fields and gardens pant with their last moisture
and appear to smoke and quiver, stray dogs with confused eyes and
drooping tails drag along like shadows, with swollen bellies and
lolling tongues. Shade, shade! My kingdom for a shade. They reach
a path and stop for a moment, lifting their bleary eyes to the hills, to
the forest-and turn back hopeless. Heat and silence. Suddenly the
edge of the forest facing me trembles, trembles and moves. From its
thick darkness three fine young head of cattle suddenly emerge: a
lovely red heifer and two young bulls, black as ravens. One of them
has a star shining on his forehead. As the heifer comes out of the
forest, she stops, but the bulls without relaxing their pace start run­
ning round her in a circle. Their movement is light and graceful. At
first nothing is seen of them except a patch of black, shining, quiver­
ing skin, legs galloping swiftly and rhythmically, scarcely touching
the ground, the graceful curve of their necks held downward as
though about to make a bow, while light flecks of dust rise from be­
neath their hooves, turning yellow for a moment and melting away.
Meanwhile the heifer stands quietly as though considering which is
better. But the competitors grow less patient by the minute, and
their excitement grows. Their muscles swell, their nostrils widen
and quiver, and their breath becomes more rapid and seized with de­
sire. Their bloodshot eyes gleam madly. The dust beneath their
hooves increases, and their necks descend steeply toward the
ground. "Something dreadful is going to happen," my heart warns
me. At that moment the one with the star suddenly turns and stands
with forehead and horns inclined toward the other, who is still rush­
ing round, charges him with murderous fury-and strikes! A savage
bellow, a terrible bitter roar arises from a cloud of dust, and the
ground round about trembles mighti ly. My heart leaps and my eyes
grow dark at the sight. And as the dust clears, I see one of the bulls
running, running across the plain, with blood streaming glittering to
the ground, and his bellowing splitting the heavens; while the sec­
ond, with the star, together with the heifer, disappears again at a
light and easy pace into the forest. The scene ends. Nothing remains
except the crazy traces of hooves on the dust of the "arena" at the
Random Harvest 73

edge of the forest and a great amazement in the heart of a little

child, sitting alone and wondering in the sand opposite . . . .
And the melody goes on to the end humming very quietly . . . and
I dream and once again, I see:
. . . A full moon on a summer's night, completely blue, and stars.
The whole village is asleep, bathed in mysterious light, and no one is
out of doors but me. I am standing alone outside the yard by the
gate, not at all surprised that I, a little child, should be standing here
alone at this hour. My eyes are fixed on the green hill, Feigele's hill,
sloping up in front of me. The moon stands high above the roof of
Feigele's house, and the slope of the hill is sown with clear silver
light and drops of dew. The single house at the top, Feigele's house,
now seems in its whiteness as though it, too, were cast in silver. The
other houses in the village dream down below, each in its own place,
in the shadows of the trees, sometimes glistening as the moonlight
catches the pane of an attic window or the blade of a sickle hanging
outside on a wall or on a fence. At the end of the village on my
right, the high wall of the forest edge is silhouetted to its full width
and height, black without and flecked inside with silver. Not a
sound, not a whisper round about. No crowing of cocks, no barking
of dogs, no croaking of frogs; the world dreams silently and I withi n
it l i k e a dream within a dream. Suddenly I see-I do n o t k now
whether with eyes of flesh or spirit-two short lines, like two black
necklaces, of tiny little dwarfs, no higher than a finger, passing hand
in hand in front of me on the hill slope, all of them dressed i n black
and wearing black hats. And all are walking slowly and solemnly, as
though on a holiday stroll, and while walking, shaking glittering
drops of dew from the grass and singing very q uietly. They sing not
with their mouths, but from within, i nside their very souls, and
without sound, like the music of the stars; I did not hear the song
with my ears, but in my heart and in my flesh and in all my bones.
Nevertheless the song surely came to me in its full i nnocence, clear
and explicit, not even a semiquaver failing to reach me. My heart
melted with sweetness, and my spirit trembled with secret dread.
"Mama ! " I wanted to cry out, but my throat was blocked and my
voice choked. I do not remember the end of the vision. But for many
days afterwards I remained quite silent and walked in a daze with
wonderment. The magic melody, embroidered with moonlight sweet
enough for the soul to languish, reverberated in my very depths and
no one knew. . . .
74 Random Harvest

. . . And the melody grows more distant, ci;'ing away, and its
echo--ever fainter, until it can no longer be caught. Sweet as death
with a kiss . . . finished! The melody has ceased, the sound has gone.
My physical sight has returned to me, and I am still lying alone in
the grass behind Reb Meir's house-prone with open eyes. From the
bottom of the valley the voices of my playmates reach me again . . . .
And I turn this way and that, quietly and fearfully like a thief, and
when I see that there is no child near me, I furtively bring out from
my pocket all my magical treasures, my colored glass marbles, four
in number-green, yellow, blue, and red-and one by one I hold
them in front of my eyes and look at the world. These fragments of
glass have a wonderful power to cast their light over everything my
eyes see and lead me at will into four marvelous worlds, which no
man has imagined nor any eye beheld but mine. Each world has its
special light, a strange and wondrous light, emanating from some
hidden source and penetrating everything. How great is your good­
ness, Lord, which you have stored away for those who revere You
. . . but let not the charm be known to anyone else. God forbid!
Those worlds are mine alone, mine alone.

An Additional Chapter

When angry, my father calls me " the lad," stressing the definite arti­
cle, and when he speaks to me, a wave of hatred seethes and fer­
ments in his bowels.29 It is quite clear to me that is a mortal hatred.
Why? I do not know. There must be something in my face, in my
walk, and in my very being that brings him to boiling point. He re­
gards me as a tarnished instrument, utterly tarnished: from the little
forelock peeking out from under my hat to the slit in the back of my
overcoat, and from the faint pockmarks on my face to the thin ciga­
rette between my teeth. Even my hidden thoughts, which his eye has
never seen, he supposes to be impure. In his eyes they are as suspi-

"'Discovered among B i a l i k 's posthumous papers, this chapter belongs to

Random Harvest, but was written before the published section. Having decided to
begin his autobiographical story with the earliest chi ldhood days, he put this chap­
ter a�idc until he might reach it in the course of the story.
Random Harvest 75

cious as a brothel, the shutters of whose windows are closed to the

world.
When Father passes behind me, my back immediately contracts .
. . . I can feel his gaze upon me even from behind. A kind of fa int
shudder passes through my spinal cord and spreads all over my skin
like cold, sharp needles. My blood congeals, my body becomes par­
alyzed, and I cannot turn my head or move from my place.
And when Father and I sometimes happen to meet face to face­
we immediately draw weapons from their scabbards: namely, our
eyes. And this meeting of the eyes is dangerous!
For the moment Father is silent-and that is a bad sign . Father's
silence is all cruelty and snake venom: it is an eighth division of
hell,J O which he has designed particularly for me. A hundred deaths
are preferable to Father's silence. He began to apply this exquisite
quality of silence to me when I became "the lad " with the definite
article. Previously, when I was j ust an ordinary lad, he used to favor
me with the quality of "speech " ; and when he came across me in the
house, he would present me with half a shoulder, turn his face to my
mother, and say something like this in a strange and disparaging
tone:
-Pessi! (That was my mother's name.) Might it be proper, per­
haps, to ask, for example, how long a lad will remain idle?
At this point I too would turn half a shoulder toward my mother
and mouth in exactly the same tone:
-Might Father, perhaps, advise what, for example, a lad might
do? " He-he-he," Father would cackle in a q ueer voice, turning
burning eyes upon me. He could go and become a " teacherling. "

He deliberately stressed the d i mi nutive " teacherling. " Into this

one word he injected all the poison of his lips and all the scorn and
delight at someone's misfortune, which appeared i n his eyes, thrust­
ing them like a needle into my very heart.
Sometimes my father would add a sharp spice to his words in the
form of a "slap across the face," and that was a third and different
kind of penalty, a reminder of what he had used when I was still a
l:teder boy. Now Father condemned and executed me by silence­
and that, as said, was a very bad sign.

30Rabbinic tradition speaks of seven divisions of hell.

76 Random Harvest

I was then about seventeen, with the first signs of mustache and
beard, and nevertheless let me reveal a secret to you-there were
times when I was as full of sins as a pomegranate has seeds and re­
morse would gnaw at my flesh like worms. I would yearn for a slap
across the face, indeed, the sharp, polished slap, which appears sud­
denly like lightning and departs rounded, sharp, and smooth, burn­
ing and ringing. Such a slap across the face delivered at the right
time is like a hot bath to a dirty body. Father was a wonderful
craftsman in this art, a master slapper.
He understood the artistic economy of the process; one might
even say that he used to slap with " divine inspiration," so to speak.
That had been his custom in my childhood: when he felt that I de­
served a slap and wanted it (there are such moments in a child's
life)-he would immediately fall silent . . . . I would try to put myself
in his hands when he was angry, acknowledging my sin, with my
whole face declaring: "Slap me! ''-and he would remain silent.
"Since you are a wicked rodent, and want it-I won't give it to you.
. . . When shall I give it to you ? Unexpectedly, and when you think
yourself to be perfectly innocent. " . . . And when he did slap, far
from closing the account or detailing the sin, he slapped and left
something over on account, using any excuse that would serve his
purpose; meanwhile you were again left i n doubt whether innocent
or guilty, so that your mind would never be at rest . . . .
Now he had changed his habit, and he fought me with other
weapons-his eyes. When our eyes sometimes met-it seemed to me
as though our fangs were being thrust into each other's heart, and
each of us was biting and being bitten at the same time. The biting
was silent, but passionate, prolonged, venomous, like a tidal wave
of bitter enmity and suppressed loathing, like a vampire, which pro­
longs its bite until it has sucked out the last drop of blood . . . . I can
feel his gaze even from behind . . . . A kind of faint shudder passing
through my spinal cord and spreading throughout my back like
cold, sharp needles. My blood congeals. I am afraid to turn my head
or move from my place . . . . And so I remain congealed within my­
self until Father goes away.
I forgot the essential thing. The matchmakers give me no rest.
Father, it seems, has already despaired of me or is trying to show
that he has. For some days now he has not, apparently, paid any at­
tention to me. He looks at me as though I don't exist-and that is
all. This morning when he finished his prayers, my mother began to
Random Harvest 77

speak to him about me for some reason. He waved his hand in a

gesture of complete dismissal and said, "The lad-No! " meaning,
let him feed until he bursts-and immediately after the final prayer
he spat qu ickly and deli berately, hu rriedly rolled up his tefillin,
pulled down his sleeve, fled to the shop-and vanished. Mother
started wiping her nose on her apron, a sign that she was about to
cry, while I sat down as was my habit at such a time on the thread­
bare sofa, my eyes fixed firmly on the ceiling as though I could see
an angel there or was contemplating the heavens . . . . Afterwards I
fixed my gaze on the tip of my shoes, rotating the sole of my foot
and allowing a sort of prolonged s-s-s- sound to escape from be­
tween my teeth . . . . My thoughts at the time were something of this
sort: "So what do they thin k ? That I would become a great teacher
in Israel? What a thought! Or perhaps they would like me to go and
serve i n the shop and preside over empty boxes-I wouldn't be sur­
prised. " . . .
And once again the word purpose floated i n the air before me in
italics. For two years now I have been trying to avoid that cruel
word, and, alas, I return to it every single day. Disturbing and trou­
bling, it stands before me, chilling my blood and dimming the light
of my life . . . . It was flung from Father's mouth in anger-and a n
evil angel was created from it t o afflict m e . On one occasion, Father
and I were seated at the table for a hasty, noonday meal. Both of us
were sitting as usual and eating in angry silence. I was chewing
away and meanwhile glancing through a novel, and Father was also
chewing away, sharpening his eyes on me i n silence, and cutting out
my bowels without a knife . . . . Suddenly his hand stretched out­
and the book flew into the stove opposite.
-" Father"-1 shouted as though bitten by a snake-" what do
you want ? "
- " I want you to choke o n the crust o f bread that you are stealing
from me, bastard, apostate, sponger, I want you to be a proper Jew,
a person like everyone else, go and find a purpose, a purpose! "
He pronounced the word " purpose" with his whole body shaking
and through gnashing teeth: p-u-r-p-o-s-e ! ! ! At that moment he
seemed to me like a n armed bandit with a flashing knife pointed
straight at my heart. . . . Indeed, I realized that he was right, but I
simply had no idea how this " purpose" could be achieved or where I
could even begin. Everyday I made a vow: "Tomorrow, God willing,
at sunrise I will begin . . . . I will certainly begin . . . a man must be as
 Random Harvest

strong as a lion . . . a man must be as firm as a cedar. " . . . But the

next day when I wake up from my sleep and open my eyes, the clock
points to a quarter to ten-and my vow has been broken . . . I wrap
myself comforta bly in my sheet and willingly yield my whole body
into the power of morning daydreams. Gently, gently they come to
me one after the other, gentle and light, soft and clear, and my soul
floats, swaying on them like a boat carried along on its own without
sailors, on tiny, warm waves . . . . The cat lies curled up at my feet
warming itself, and the sun pats my face with its fringes. The sounds
of morning arise from the street, and from the next room comes the
song of our young servant girl as she beats the pillows . . . . The body
becomes soft and pliable, the mind clear, and the heart yearning .
. . . I light a thin cigarette and my eyes wander through the smoke as
I scan the lines of some novel. . . . Upon my soul, I know of no more
pleasant time than this. Everything is swallowed in the sun's glory
and caught in the rings of fine, blue smoke; and everything is joined
to a world that is small and light as a feather, a world that is all for­
getfulness and rest, brightness and passing dream . . . a passage to a
world in which there is no " purpose" . . . but where all creatures
grow like plants in a field and pass by like morning clouds without
any beginning and without "purpose. " . . .
But at such a time my father's mere entrance is enough to de­
stroy all my beautiful world . . . . One morning I was lying on my
couch, wrapped up in my sheet and half asleep, l istening with
closed eyes to the singing of our young servant girl; and the song
seemed to me to be very sad and very sweet, sweet to the point of
swooning. Suddenly the voice stopped: " h e " had entered the
house. I peeked through a little hole in the sheet, and there he was
coming straight toward me with his hands stretched out to the
mirror hanging over my bed. My heart died. I lay like a stone be­
neath the outstretched arm covering me like a kind of sword, and
on my own back , across my loins, I could feel the strap of its
shadow. . . . Just as the neck must feel the sharpness of a sword
hanging in the air for a moment before slaughter. . . . I had only
one desi re-to disappear. . . . I wanted to hide inside myself, like a
c h a m eleon in its sheath, so long as he didn't notice me . . . and
" h e " took the shop's account book from behind the mi rror,
slammed the door and hurried away . . . . Blessed be He who has
set me free . Our young servant girl returned to her song, and I to
my thoughts: about a servant girl and so on.
Random Harvest 79

Why am I so afraid of Father? I do not know. It is a kind of pain

left over from my childhood. It is not physical fear but something
else, for which I have no name. Perhaps it is shame or anxiety lest I
be hurt by his gaze. It is as though there is in my soul some small,
hidden spot, and when Father fixes his eye on me-the spot burns
up and vanishes . . . .
However that may be, it is difficult for Father and me to breathe
the air of one house, difficult to the point of choking . . . and on
every occasion when he rushes out of the house-! feel around me
and within me a greater space, like a person suddenly emerging
from an alley into a broad avenue . . . .
 2
Behind the Fence

1J ehind the Fence is a modern story wherein reality and sym­

bol are interwoven. The plot is itself stereotypical: Romeo and
Juliet transposed to a provincial Russian town. The lovers not
only are the children of rival families but belong to different re­
ligious and social classes: the son of a small-scale Jewish lum­
ber merchant and a Christian foundling oppressed by a cruel
and grim Russian peasant woman.
But beyond this stock plot is an ingenious story, an educa­
tional novella. Noah, the protagonist, evolves from childhood
to adolescence and finally to maturity. In contrast, Marinka is a
flat character. She remains the passive, beautiful girl craving for
a handful of love and tormented by a hardened elderly peasant.
The author is at home in Noah's world. (The name Noah i s
composed of t h e initials of his o w n two personal names
/:fayyim Nahman-reversed to Noa/:J) . 1
Noah, the child and the adolescent, i s not totally oblivious to
the realities of his Jewish milieu and the wide cultural gap that
separates the two lovers. He knows that the fruit trees, the
fruit, and the vegetables of Marinka's world are alien to the
Jewish world of lumberyards piled with dead wood of once­
flourishing trees, or the market stalls peddling plucked fruit and
vegetables. Marinka, the child of love, i s unencumbered by the
stern taboos of the Jewish ethic. The reactions of the two chil-

1The Hebrew version of "Noah" is "Noal:t."

81
82 Behind the Fence

dren when they encounter a snake poignantly stresses the cul­

tural gap between them. Noah wants to kill the snake (symbol
of the Eros ), the mythological tempter of Eve. The snake
caused the original sin that led to the expulsion from Eden.
Marinka protests, "You must not kill a snake ! "
The narrator's sympathies are with the young peasant girl.
She is an uncomplicated child of nature, hardly governed by
the restrictive Jewish inhibitions. The shtetl shuns the vitality,
the spontaneity, the passions of life, suppresses the wonder­
ment of childhood, fences off the child from the living contact
with forest and field. Noah is instinctively drawn to the natu­
ralness and vitality of the peasantry. They seem to represent the
lost Eden of his childhood. He prefers their world to the
gloomy, puritanical world of the Jewish community, repre­
sented by his stern father. Both his parents fai l to bind his
hands with the thick straps of phylacteries and the stern disci­
pline of the Hebrew schoolroom.
The fence separates the homes of Noah's father and Marinka's
witchlike guardian, separates Jew from gentile. It also represents
the Halacha (Jewish law), around which Jews are expected to
erect barriers to prevent the slightest violation of God's com­
mandments. It separates Noah from Marinka. Noah is impelled
to breach the fence to meet Marinka. Other erotic symbols are
noted throughout the story. "Apples" not only allude to the fruit
forbidden in the story of Adam and Eve but are also metaphors
for Marinka's beauty and appeal. Before Noah leaps into the
garden to consummate his love, two apples dangle before his
eyes. The enclosed garden itself is an erotic biblical metaphor:
"My beloved is an enclosed garden" (Song of Songs 4: 12). So
are the trees, fruit, and vegetables associated with the gentile
peasantry. The Jewish merchants chop down the trees and turn
them into lumber. Noah longs for the fruit. His first encounter
with Marinka occurs after he plants his own vegetable patch on
his side of the fence. Marinka chides him: the garden will not
grow, because it stands in the shade.
Noah is attracted by the beauties of nature, the brawn and
bravado of his peasant friends. He nostalgica lly recalls the
country vil lage where he was born, its forests, its glowing sun­
shine, its lush fields. For him, leaving the village for Zhitomir's
Behind the Fence

crowded streets is a fa lling from grace, an exile from a lost

Eden.
The two lovers are innocents who relish the verdant vegeta­
tion of the garden and the fields. They are in the Garden of
Eden before the Fall. However, as they mature, their love
ripens (like the fruit Noah has stored away in the stable loft)
into physical love. Images from the animal world now replace
those of the vegetable world-for example, Noa h's mature
cravings for Marinka are symbolized by the raging sexuality of
a horse in heat.
Noah's yard is almost treeless. The surviving battered oak
serves a variety of literary functions: it is a symbol of the de­
generation of Jewish vitality. However, it also suggests the pos­
sibility of regeneration. It enables Noah to leap from the stable
loft into Marinka's garden.
The story concludes in a realistic, i ronic vein. Noah will
grow up to be Harry. He is about to marry a " nice" Jewish
girl. Marinka, still i nnocent, clutches Noah's child as she
watches her former lover and his Jewish fiancee. She remains in
the garden on the other side of the fence.
 1

Twenty or thirty years ago, the lumber district had been a small but
spacious farming community inhabited by well-to-do katsaps, who
owned groves, orchards, and vegetable a nd pumpkin patches.
Nowadays, it has changed completely into a large, crowded Jewish
quarter, whose inhabitants traffic in all the bits and pieces of the de­
nuded groves as well as in uprooted vegetables and fruits.
Everything has turned Jewish: the homes, the farmyards and their
uneven fences, the chickens pecking in the garbage, the very air and
the fowl flying in it. The katsaps, with their groves, orchards, and
vegetable patches, have all been pushed back far beyond the quarter,
spreading out freely under God's sky. They sow and plant; lead their
horses to pasture; kindle golden bonfires at night; raise cattle and
sheep, little goyim, and dogs. They reap the benefits, and so do even
the Jews-a little. Often a Jew would rise at dawn, drive his wagon
into the forest beyond the quarter, and return at noon laden with
God's blessed produce, exuding the good smells of fields and gar­
dens: green onions, radishes, heads of cabbage, a bunch of mush­
rooms, a bale of still-moist hay, and, sometimes, hidden beneath it,
red apples or a small j ug overflowing with wild strawberries or
gooseberries.
Only Shakoripinshchika, a stubborn elderly shiksah, a childless
widow who had raised a foundling in her home and a big dog and
puppies in her yard, only she of all the former katsaps clung to her
patrimony: yard, orchards, trees, and vegetables. She held on with
both hands. She'd be damned if she would move. Year after year
rolled by. Her neighbors tried to drive her away either with sweet
reasonableness or harsh words. They laid siege to her yard by erect­
ing barns and build ings all around its fences, piling mounds of
garbage, manure, and stones against them. Fina lly, they began chan­
neling their sewage into her yard, flinging their refuse into it, and
tearing its fence apart for kindling. They performed all manner of
outrage against her. But she held her ground: " Come hell or high
water, Jews, I won't budge from here. " Not a day passed without

H4
Behind the Fence HS

some sort of noisome quarrel erupting; not a week without a sum­

mons to court. They poured ashes and burning coals into her yard.
She retaliated with smoking logs that once almost sta rted a fire.
They plucked geese, sending the feathers flying into her yard . She
roasted a pig and filled their windows with its stench. They used the
slats of her fence to reinforce their outhouses. She raised her fence
by a span or two up to the level of their windows, blocking out the
noonday sun. They let their sons loose in her orchards; she turned
her dogs on them.
"A tough nut, she won't crack quickly. " Her neighbors gave up
for the time being in despair: " Her day will come ! "
The siege, i n the meantime, grew more i ntense year after year.
Shakoripinshchika continued to barricade herself against it. She
raised her fences foot by foot and added new hounds to her pack of
watchdogs. She locked and barred her gate and the small portal
that led onto the street facing the Jewish quarter, thus cutting her­
self off from it completely. When she or Marinka, her foundling,
had to go to market or to town, they would use a small door at the
rear of the courtyard. From there, they would take the narrow
path, trodden down by their own feet, climb over a low fence and
enclosure by way of areas that Jews hardly ever frequented. They
would disappear into the shadows cast by the bushes and trees lin­
ing the road.
Shakoripinshchika rarely ventured into the quarter itself except
when she drove her produce to market. At such times, the outer gate
would swing open with a loud creak. A two-wheeled cart would
emerge pulled by a pony called Gootsy. Laden with fruit, the cart
would emerge from her yard with Shakoripinshchika perched on
top and holding the reins. The apprentice wagoners, who usually
stood opposite the gate waiting for her exit as if for the Messiah,
would make way for her, greeting her with hurrahs. As part of the
fun, they would quickly snatch a large, green cucumber, a red apple,
or a beautiful pear from the cart and, within sight of their victim,
sink their healthy teeth into it.
To make matters worse, Shakoripinshchi ka's house had to border
the alley that led to the synagogue. On Friday evenings when Jews
left the synagogue dressed in satin clothes and velvet hats and
padded through the alley, three escorts accompanied them along
the full length of the wall: Shakoripin, the largest of Shakoripinsh-
86 Behind the Fence

chika 's dogs, who bore his mistress's name tor, the other way
round, she, the mistress, bore his) and two " ministering angels." 2
The dog himself was hidden from sight. He was in the courtyard
behind the fence. Only his growling bark, reinforced by the clank
of his chain, rose from the courtyard, scaring the devil out of all
who passed.
On the street side, Shakoripinshchika's house protruded a little
beyond the house line, assuming an odd, abnormal stance. The
house faced the yard, windows and all, showing its windowless
back to the public thoroughfare, as if i n defiance: "Jews-1 turn my
back on you ! "
This architectural affront alone was enough to bring down the
wrath of the neighbors. " Look, Jews, she's ruined the house line,"
they would say and shake their helpless fists at its backside. But the
house had another and worse fault. It was a downright hazard.
How much damage can roofs and boards inflict? But out of the
far corner of Shakoripinshchika's house a long pole protruded onto
the alley; from afar the pole looked like a thumb extending from a
fist. All Shakoripin had to do was to bark at the Jews walking by­
" bow wow wow"-and that pole, placed exactly at a man's height,
would really hurt.
When a Jew passed through the alley at night and turned left, all
of a sudden--crack! A round, egg-sized protuberance would rise on
his forehead. " Damn it to hell , " the victim cursed, as he rushed
home to press down the bump with the blade of a knife.
All the neighbors' shouting about the pole was to no avail; you
might as well talk to the wall. The offending pole reached out from
the house and furtively did its job: which was to lay eggs on Jewish
foreheads. You might say that it did it with malice aforethought.
Lurking behind the corner, the devil, as soon as he saw a Jew com­
ing---c rack!
There were hotheads who vowed "to break windows," but when
they reached the house itself, they ran out of steam. Before them
stood a dumb, blind wall with not a trace of a window. " Damn it to
hell," and off the victim would run to his home to press the lump
down with a knife.

2Acwrding to folk tradition, five ministering angels descend on the Sabbath and
accompany the piou\ to their homes.
Behind the fence !17

On the other hand, the house had a pretty-if somewhat queer­

roof. Actually, it wasn't a roof but a heap of thatched earth, slanted
on either side. In the summer, it sprouted all sorts of vegeta bles,
grasses, and thistles. The entire house looked like a hairy creature
standing bareheaded under the vault of the sky; the chimney was
practically invisible, its smoke rising through the grass.
Whatever went on within the yard was beyond the range of hu­
man eyes. The little door was, after all, always closed, and Jews,
even the closest neighbors, were not allowed to set foot in the yard .
Then there was Shakoripin. The Lord preserve us from even getting
near that confounded dog. You took your very life in your hands.
He wasn't j ust a dog; he was a veritable panther. He tore people
apart. He had a blood-cu rdling bark and was always in an ugly
mood. He j ust had to smell a man walking in the nearby alley and at
once, "grrrrr bow wow wow. " It was a w o w with a long "o. " Dogs
who bark in long "o's" are worse than wolves.
And how clever was Shakoripin! When necessary, he would hide
in his kennel, curled up in feigned silence. And then suddenly-in a
flash-he came out of nowhere. He went only for your throat. Once
a thief foolishly entered his yard; he was found the next morning
laid out in front of Shakoripin in a pool of blood, his throat i n
shreds. And Shakoripin hadn't barked once that whole night!
And since all the Jews of the neighborhood valued their throats,
you could not find a single one willing to risk poking his head or
neck into the yard even out of curiosity. But small boys, as they
walked to the synagogue through the alley or when they purposely
came there to tease the dog, would peek into the yard through some
hole in the fence at what was inside. The yard was square and spa­
cious; its surface was thoroughly swept, neat as a pin, with not a
thing out of place. I n front of the house lay an open grassy area
fringed by a tall row of branching trees. A long clothesline was
drawn from trunk to trunk. On the lower fence hung several j ars. A
black row of overturned j ugs lined the green coping of the house.
On the opposite wing was a large shed, half of which served as a
stable for Gootsy, the pony, and the other half as a pigpen; a small
barn for the single cow; and a woodstove. Near the shed was the
two-wheeled cart, a pile of refuse and manure, Shakoripin's kennel,
and Shakoripin, himself, secured by his chain. At the far end of the
yard began the orchard-its verdant foliage could always be seen
8S Behind the Fence

through the open windows of the synagogue, and the smell of its ap­
ples and the rustling of its branches mingled with the sounds of the
Sabbath morning prayers. This was the very garden in which
Marinka used to sleep alone on summer nights, guarded by
Shakoripin.
At this point, one of Shakoripin's adversaries would shove a stick
through a hole in the gate, dangling it before the dog's very eyes,
and the battle would begin. They, the heroes behind the gate, would
growl- "grrrr . . . grrrr . . . grrrr . . . , " that is to say, burn in hell­
and the dog, tied to his chain, would roar and rumble "grrrr . . .
grrrr . . . , " stra ining at his chain, while every one of his bones
would stiffen for combat.
Who knows how far the battle would have progressed had
Shakoripinshchika not emerged and put the heroes to flight? Not
that they were afraid of Shakoripinshchika. What harm could a
woman do, even a goyah ? What was it then that frightened them?
Her voice!
To tell the truth, she hardly had a voice. It was lost forever as a re­
sult of the shouting bouts she had had with her neighbors. Nothing
survived except a fuzzy shadow of a voice reinforced by shattered
fragments of shrill shrieks. A sort of a long hiss of Slavic syllables
that poured from her throat and spat at your face like searing sand.
What she said or screamed no one really heard, but one sensed that
the goyah shrieked out of the depths of her heart and with her very
last breath. It was as if a wheel were turning in her throat sharpen­
ing a knife: a hissing, a shriek, flying sparks. Your nose smelled sul­
fur and your teeth were set slightly on edge, as if watching some­
body eat a sour apple.
And imagine! This hissing alone had the power to drive away the
devil himself. Better the hissing of snakes, the howling of cats on a
May night, or the rol ling of thunder than the hissing of
Shakoripin shchika's throat. The neighbors swore that they could
not sleep at night. The hissing of the old goyah would saw through
the boards of house and yard, reaching their bedrooms-all night
long, "tss . . . tss . . . tss ! " Why did she hiss the whole night long? It
seemed that she beat "the bastard " and ordered her to be silent.
Nahum Yosi heard the lashes and the girl's screams. The bitch. It's
not enough that she works the shiksah to the bone, she also has to
heat her to death. It's cruelty to animals!
Behind the renee H9

And " the bastard," Marinka, worked in the ya rd and in the

house, growing taller by the day. She was whi pped every night, but
her cheeks reddened like poppies. Her long hair thickened and glis­
tened, and her breasts were like autumn apples. The peasant boys
and their dogs had started coming to town on spring and summer
nights, hot on her scent, lying in wait for her where the yard ends
and fields begin. But Marinka acted as if she were unaware of them.
She slept alone on such nights in the little straw shack that stood in
the middle of the orchard, with Shakoripin crouching at the door­
way. The dog guarded the orchard and Marinka diligently.
Marinka rarely showed her face in the Jewish quarter on the street
side. She would open the small door, stay out for a moment with her
arms crossed at her chest, then withdraw at once and lock herself in.
The eyes and mouths of the wagoners standing alongside their lep­
rous horses would fall upon her and send her scuttling away.
But, every once in a while, one of the boys who go to synagogue­
and are therefore well acquainted with the cracks and holes of the
gate along the alleyway-would peek through a hole looking for
Shakoripin, and his eye would accidentally alight upon Marinka. The
ruddy and bosomy girl would be standing in the middle of the yard
bent over the washing, for example, with her chest bared a little more
than a handbreadth and her naked arms sunk to the elbows in the
sudsy foam of the tub. Then his eye would suddenly become glued to
the crack, immobile. In a moment, a second, a third, a fourth boy­
all the cracks would now be filled with eyes, like flies piled on a hon­
eycomb. They would stand, knees buried in the thorns, leaning be­
hind the fence, heads glued to the clapboards, eyes on Marinka.
Nobody would say a word. All was silence and concentration. Each
one would have her for himself-all of her-nothing was left out.
Sometimes Marinka would show up bare-thighed on the roof; she
would climb up there and, standing erect, would spread beans and
sesame seeds to dry in the sun. Then the apprentice wagoners stand­
ing below in the square alongside their wagons, with their whips
tucked under their arms, suddenly would lift their eyes upward in
unison, and a pleasurable, sensual smile would light up their faces,
baring their white, horsey teeth. The gang's clown would throw out
some remark that would set Marinka's cheeks ablaze and force her
to lower her head toward the grass and vegetables on the roof. The
wagoners would burst into laughter: " ho, ho, ho, ha, ha, ha," and
90 Behind the Fence

Marinka would lower her head even more. k eat's leap and she
would disappear in the courtyard.

Everything in this world has its double, and so too did

Shakoripinshchika's home. Its counterpart was the double-gabled
house that was second in the row and stood shoulder to shoulder
with it, separated only by a high clapboard fence.
Relations between the pair were not neighborly. The very moment
that the second house was transferred from the katsap Serafim's do­
main to that of Hanina Lippa, the Jew who had moved here a few
years ago from the village with his fat wife, Tsipa Leah, and his only
child, Noah, the quarreling immediately began. They bickered over
a span of land, over a stray chicken, an obstructed view, a breach in
the gate-as neighbors are wont to do. But Shakoripinshchika's
chief complaint was about the stench. Ever since these Jews settled
next to her, she complained as she sharpened the knife in her throat,
she couldn't stand the stench. The geese, she said, on the Jews'
roof-Tsipa Leah was fattening geese-they foul the air she
breathes. What a bitch. An impure goyah who keeps a dozen pigs in
her sty-she can't stand the stench ! Things got to the point of face
slapping and Hanina Lippa was-may it never happen to you­
taken to court and made to pay a fine. He gritted his teeth and paid.
From then on, a silent battle began in which even the dumb wood
and stones inside the neighbors' yards participated. It was like a
continuous, exhausting, dreary rainfall made up of petty sub rosa
hostile acts about which one doesn't protest but which penetrate
one's guts like drops of boiling pitch. It was as if even the walls of
the two homes nursed a deadly enmity toward each other through
the ta ll gate lying between them. Each plotted against its neighbor,
and each silently waited for its neighbor's imminent ruin and utter
defeat.
In the meantime, the rotting roof of Hanina Lippa's house was
torn into irreparable shreds. Its spine was bent and broken, and
holes a p peared along its sloping ribs. And when? Right in the mid­
dle of the rainy season, the season of the geese, when about ninety­
five geese sat and cack led under his roof. Quickly and cleverly,
Han ina Li ppa fi xed a slate roof as a kind of shelter atop the old
Behind the Fence 91

straw roof. The former roof continued to exist for some consider­
able time, all the while deteriorating on its own. Tsipa Leah would
pluck handfuls from it for the defeathering of geese and the scouring
of earthenware. The new roof hangs in its place on four posts, as if
by a miracle, like a creature in its own right, to this very day.
And so within the row of houses Shakoripinshchika's house and
its counterpart stood shoulder to shoulder. One with its unkempt
head and tousled hair, and the other with its new hat and its old
yarmulke. Both sank into the earth from year to year-as in fact the
ever-widening space between hat and yarmulke bore witness. A
great enmity was bottled up deep within the hearts of both owners,
an enmity that seethed quietly like a serpent's venom.
When the hatred grew so strong that it demanded action or
reached a point of madness, when each was ready to set fire to the
other's home and everything in it, the two owners would suddenly
emerge from their homes into their respective yards and begin to
vent their pointless anger by directing it at any piece of wood, stone,
or dumb animal in their path. Both would suddenly become indus­
trious to no purpose, dashing about from one corner of their prop­
erties to the other, seeking and finding all sorts of insignificant and
unnecessary tasks to do, performing them for their own sake out of
impatience as well as the repressed and shattering enmity between
them. Shakoripinshchika starts examining the j ugs lining the roof's
coping; discovering that they had not been properly washed, she in­
flicts on them a second scouring. She soaps up and scrubs all the
vessels with all her might and anger-swiftly, swiftly, and her busy
elbow prances i n the air while she works. Just as suddenly, she be­
gins to remove all sorts of worn sacks from some hiding place. From
inside her house, she tosses out the sacks until a large pile of rags
lies outside her front door. The next moment, she scoops u p the
fallen sacks and returns them all to their original hiding place; the
pile disappears as though it had never existed.
In the meantime, she runs into Marinka and gives her flesh a
sharp pinch. If she comes across a sow, it gets a k ick in the ribs.
Shakoripin sees what is going on and silently retires to his kennel or
squeezes behind the trash pile. And silence! Shakoripin is no more.
That dog knows his mistress's mood when she is a ngry.
For his part, Hanina Lippa also suddenly becomes busy, driven to
make order out of chaos. He dresses rapidly and sets to work. Some
evil spirit drags him into the yard, where he toils-groaning, sweat-
92 Behind the Fence

ing, and finding no respite. His yard is topsy-tur.vy! Everything is in

disorder; everything is where it should not be. "This barrel, God
damn it," he mutters as he kicks the shattered and rickety barrel. "It
belongs-the devil take it!-next to the stable and not here. "
Suddenly with a "pop ! " the barrel splits and its sides fall apart,
leaving Hanina Lippa with his leg hanging in midair as he prepares
to deliver his next assault. Bursting with anger, Hanina Lippa begins
hurling the barrel's boards at Shakoripinshchika's fence as he fumes:
"A fire take you ! A plague! Cholera ! "
A moment later, bending his entire body and breaking his back, he
drags out an old door, rolls a large stone, and then groans in agony
as he tries to move a large beam that had been lying like a corpse in
the middle of the yard. It can't be moved. Already bathed in sweat,
he plots how to move the beam. He attacks it from every angle, try­
ing to lift the beam as much as a hairbreadth. It's killing him.
Sometimes the exertions end well enough. Hanina Lippa, after re­
moving his caftan, braces his hips, spits on both his palms, and­
one, two, ready!-moves the beam ever so little. He is pleased with
himself. At other times, he toils in vain-and then the quarrel be­
tween the neighbors grows fierce. What has begun with curses,
shouts, and invective in the yards on either side of the gate ends up
with stones, shards of wood, and pottery being hurled from both
rooftops. Like wrathful tigers, the two enemies suddenly appear,
facing each other from the heights of the quarter-Hanina Lippa
atop his double roof and opposite him, Shakoripinshchika, standing
amid the onions, garlic clumps, and the high sunflowers atop her
roof. To the distress of the birds above and the delight of the wag­
oners below, spatulas, rakes, jars, and wood shavings fly from roof
to roof. Shakoripinshchika's yard is filled with the wailing and
howling of dogs and the screeching of roosters. Shakoripin clangs
his chain on one side, and Tsipa Leah whimpers on the other. The
wagon men's apprentices on the street cry out in delight as the
neighbors play out their aerial combat. An awesome terror pervades
the entire Jewish quarter for many days.

Of all those living in both yards, only two did not get involved in
the neighbors' dispute: Marinka, Shakori pinshch ika's foundling,
Behind the fence 9]

and Noah, Hanina Lippa's only son of the same age. During a quar­
rel they would stand silently on the sidelines. Even as children, dur­
ing the first years they were neighbors, the two became good
friends. In those days, Marinka was lonely and felt abandoned. At
first, when "Uncle " Serafim still lived in the neighborhood, things
were not so bad. She would go to his home on some errand for her
aunt, to borrow a pot or a sieve, and sometimes she would play in
the sand with his little son, Makarka. The "uncle" himself treated
her kindly. On holidays he would bring her a bagel from the mar­
ketplace, and when her " aunt" beat her to excess, he would come to
her rescue. But when the " uncle" moved away and the adj acent
yard was empty, her world turned dark. Now there was no " uncle, "
no Makarka, nothing but her wrathful and miserly " a unt, " and
beatings and h u nger and imprisonment i n the courtyard. Those
were spring days, a time of lively and energetic work in the veg­
etable garden and in the orchard. " Auntie" would rise early and go
out to the vegetable garden at dawn to j oin her women workers,
and she would return after dark. She would leave the yard with a
hoarse but severe warning, " Don't go out and about," which was
directed only at little Marinka. Marinka obeyed and did not go out
or about. All day long she sat imprisoned within the four barriers
guarding the enclosed yard. Were it not for Shakoripin, the little
dog, who j oined her at that time and became attached to her, she
would have died of sheer boredom. She carried a single, hidden trea­
sure in her lap, a string of hard little bagels, which " Uncle" had left
her as a present before he departed. For many days she refrained
from eating them, a nd when she remained alone, she would take
them from her lap and play with them. Each day they appeared new
to her and she would d iscover a different and special quality in
them: they were yellow, round as rings, and rattled like gravel. True,
they were little, but so thick, so thick that they almost had no holes
at all. She would count them one by one with her fingers several
times a day-and imagine what a miracle !-they always added up
to nine, no more and no less. Once, however, when overcome with
hunger, she was unable to withstand the temptation and ate them.
From then on all she had left in the world was her dog Shakoripin
and the memory of her " uncle . " She especially remembered
"Uncle's" last words. He had entered wearing high boots, whip in
hand, to take his leave from "Auntie, " and before he left, he said to
her: " Look here, old woman, don't beat the child too much. She's a
94 Behind the Fence

pitiful thing, fear the Lord. " These lovely. sweet words she,
Marinka, had heard with her own ears, as she sat on the threshold
cutting up pumpkins for the pigs. Her heart melted with gratitude,
and when "Uncle" went out and crossed the threshold, she quickly
crawled on all fours and kissed him on the back of his boot. It was a
quick, furtive kiss without his knowledge. True, "Auntie" did not
fulfill his command and did not stop beating her, but Marinka, too,
never stopped repeating to herself the very same words day after
day, "Look here, old woman . . . "
Once when she was tempted to violate "Auntie's" warning, her
heart drew her to "Uncle" Serafim's house. She got up, left the court­
yard like a thief, and entered. When she came in, she was overcome
by a great sadness. The house was empty, desolate, and strange look­
ing. Her aunt said it was sold to Yids. Who are those Yids who will
be coming here? Where had "Uncle" Serafim gone? She sat on the
floor silently in a corner and began to cry. Crying was so sweet,
sweet, bursting from the heart spontaneously. She wanted to sit i n
this corner crying a s long as she lived. A l l o f a sudden two odd crea­
tures entered the house. One was a short, hairy, fat man wearing a
kapota and holding a whip in his hand. The other had red fingernails
and held a builder's rod in his hand. Through the tears that welled
up and quivered in her eyes, their faces appeared to her strange and
very threatening. Marinka was frightened; she shrank into the comer
and was silent. The creatures spent some time in the house, examin­
ing the ceiling and the windows, and left. Marinka immediately re­
sumed her crying, but it had been disrupted midway. It was now
tasteless and without flavor. In the evening "Auntie " found her there
asleep in the darkness-and she dragged her home by the hair. Since
then, she no longer took even a single step outside the yard. Every
day, alone and sad, she would sit by herself on the bench between the
row of trees and the house. At her feet crouched Shakoripin, who
was also small and free, with no chain around his neck-the only
one who was attached to her and understood her. The little creature
would lie before Marinka, watching her mouth with unblinking
gaze. In the distance, from the direction of the orchard and the veg­
etable patches, fragments of the song of women workers rose, their
clear voices fresh and springlike. Both Marinka and the dog would
suddenly perk up their ears. The dog would begin to tremble and
suddenly would shake himself, ju mp to his feet, wag his tail, and
stare at Mari nka impatiently, as if to say, "Let's go Marinka, right
Behind the fence

now. " And she would lift him to her knees and press him to her: "We
mustn't, Shakoripin, we mustn't. 'Auntie' will beat me. "
One day, the second yard was filled with tumult. "The Yids have
arrived," said "Auntie . " From that day on, "Auntie's" warnings as
she went out became more severe and her pinches were sharper than
before. To her tight security measures she added even more stringent
precautions. Whatever could be hidden or put under lock and key,
she hid or locked away. She put locks on the cellar, on the attic, on
the woodshed. She brought a new dog into the yard. "Watch with
seven eyes," " Auntie" would caution her over and over again. " Do
you hear me: Jews and gypsies are all thieves. Do you hear? If a Jew
sticks his snout in here, set the dogs on him. Do you hear? The
dogs-Jews are afraid of them. Do you hear? Here's a slice of bread
and an onion; don't wander about outside. Do you hear? If anything
at all is missing from the yard, I'll skin you alive. Do you hear ? "
" D o you hear, d o you hea r ? " Oh, how Marinka hated this splut­
tered and grating phrase. On the upper part of her heart, near the
shoulder, there was-so Marinka imagined-some sensitive round
scab about the size of a coin, which that phrase had irritated with its
constant rubbing. The expression constantly scratched the scab and
was exclusively directed at it: "Do you hear, do you hea r ? "
And Marinka would lower h e r head a n d listen. The very moment
the small backdoor at the rear of the orchard creaked twice and
slammed behind " Auntie," she would stand beside the fence be­
tween the two yards. Ever since the Jews had come here she would
stand day after day behind the fence, her neck bowed, her little head
in the palms of her hand, her eyes fixed upon a crack in the fence.
She preferred standing like this to the boredom of sitting on the
bench. She would see new faces and hear strange things- "Ghe,
ghe, ghir, ghir "-without understanding a word. On the ground lay
scattered and neatly arranged heaps and stacks of beams, boards,
sticks, poles, shavings, and plain wooden utensils. Some were old
and black, others new and damp, still shining white and glistening
with live and pungent drops of resin . Wagons would come in and
depart-wagoners and other people. Among the stacks a short, fat
man with a kapota and a head of hair walked about, doing busi­
ness, groaning and sweating. Where had she seen this man ? It seems
she had seen him before. " Yes, yes, it's him, h im ! " It's the very crea­
ture that frightened her at twilight when she sat in the corner and
cried. " And he's the Yid ! " Marinka concluded fearfully and kept on
96 Behind the Fence

peering. At the Yid's feet a dark, curly-haired boy was darting

about, climbing up one stack after the other. He j umped on the
beams, skipped on the poles, sat on the driver's seat, and cracked a
whip in the air, shouting, " hoah, hoa h ! " The hairy old man in his
kapota scolded him, pulled him down from the stack, pushed him
with his knee, and sent him off. The little boy turned away and ran
home crying. Immediately, a screaming voice resounded in the yard.
It was a woman's voice calling from the direction of the house:
" Nina Lippa, Nina Lippa . . . " and a few other shrill words that
Marinka did not understand. Little Shakoripin, who was with her,
began to prance about opposite the fence, very quickly, and bow­
wowing. Marinka broke away from the fence in terror and fled with
Shakoripin to her usual place on the bench.
"A pretty, l ively boy," thought Marinka . " Is he a Yid too ? "
Marinka passed several days working and assisting Shakoripinsh­
chika with housework and yard chores. In the orchard at the back
of the yard, trees were being trimmed. The little girl was harried and
driven from place to place. She would go down to the cellar and
climb up to the attic, running errands, feeding the chickens, and
preparing the mix for the hogs. And above all getting pinched. The
noise of loading and unloading resounded all day long: heaving and
unloading, unloading and heaving. And Shakoripinshchika would
seethe and pinch, pinch and seethe.
Some time later, Marinka was left alone once again and returned
to the crack. She saw nothing. A large stack of beams piled high
close to the fence blocked her view. The conversation that reached
her from beyond the beams was muffled and unclear, even very
crude-" la-la, Ia-la . " She cocked her ears trying to pick out the
boy's voice from among the others, but she couldn't.
On Monday morning, immediately after " Auntie" had left the
yard, Marinka examined the full length of the fence. She found a
round, open knothole shaped like a bull's eye. It was low, close to
the ground, and faced the edge of the neighbor's wall. She crouched
down and peered through it. Darkness and silence. Along the bor­
der heneath the low-hanging edges of the neighbor's roof stretched a
sma ll hlack strip of plowed earth. It was made up of several small
patches with a shovel stuck in their midst. There was no one to be
seen. " Who's doing the planting here ? " Marinka wondered.
Footsteps! Shakoripin shook himself and got ready to bark.
"Shush," Marinka silenced him and cocked her ear. Not footsteps
Behind the fence Y7

but ski pping, skipping like a pony galloping. The skipping came
from the side, getting doser and doser.
A min ute later, a dark, curly-haired boy arrived, hopping and
skipping into the small alley between the fence and the neigh bor's
wall. "It's him, him." Marinka recognized him and held her breath.
The boy was aglow with joy, lifting his cupped hands on high as he
da nced and shouted : " Everything, everything; there's everything
here ! " Through his fi ngers, beans, lentils, and sunflower seeds
spilled to the ground. " Crazy, " she thought, as a repressed la ugh
bubbled in her throat. She covered her mouth with one hand and
Shakoripin's with the other. She felt his body shuddering. He, too,
could hardly contain h imself and was about to bark. "What's
wrong? " she suddenly cried through the knothole, immediately re­
gretting that she had spoken.
The boy was shaken for a moment and looked about him, some­
what taken aback. He hurriedly hid the seeds in his pockets. Then he
spotted the knothole. Quietly he bent his knees and with frightened
eyes peeked through the knothole. His eye met a bright, alert, and
pleasant eye on the other side. There was a moment of silence and
confusion. "Who are you ? " he finally asked the eye. "I'm M arinka."
"And I'm Noah." A lengthy silence. Marinka backed away a little.
Noah stared at her for a minute and said somewhat angrily, "What
are you peeking at?" "Nothing. I j ust wanted to see what you were
doing here . " " Me, I am planting seeds." " Ha, ha, ha," la ughed
Marinka, lowering her head between her shoulders. "You there, why
are you laughing? " Noah was irritated and insulted.
At that very minute, the dog barked. Noah was immediately pla­
cated and began to talk to her. He asked her about the dog, and she
replied. The talk drifted from one subject to another, and he started
urging her to come over to his side, to the alleyway. " You see," he
tried to entice her, "I'm planting a garden. Come here and we will
plant it together. I've got everything, thank God: beans, peas, and
sunflower seeds." And he emptied one pocket after the other. " You
won't tell anyone," he suddenly asked i n a whisper. " I took some of
my mother's seeds secretly; mother will never know anything; when
they grow I'll return them ten times over. I swear. Nu. M a rinka,
would you like some ? " Marinka shook her head: "No." " Why ? "
H e was disappointed. " Because. The sun doesn't shine i n the a lley. "
" So what ? " Noah was surprised and perturbed. "The plants will
grow wild. You're wasting your time." "Liar!"
98 Behind the Fence

Noah was irritated again and almost cried. "They will grow, they
will, and they will become vegetables. The sun gets here before sun­
set. I've seen it with my own eyes. I really know."
Marinka did not reply. She put the dog in her lap, patted his head,
and blew behind his ear. Noah wanted to say something else to her,
but at that moment a screeching voice rang through the yard, a
woman's voice calling from the direction of the house, " Noah,
Noah ! " Noah j umped up and disappeared from the alley.

From that morning, the two children became friends. When

Shakoripinshchika was not in the yard, they would meet furtively at
the knothole and reveal all their secrets to each other. As the weeks
passed, Noah talked a great deal, always with feeling and enthusi­
asm, cheeks flushed and eyes burning. His warm breath would flow
through the knothole and meet Marinka's eyelid. He would talk
about the village he had come from, the friends he had left behind,
and the pretty little dogs that he had there. My, my-he would shut
his eyes, deeply moved-so little, so pretty. And he would also talk
about a certain forest, a very, very big forest-big as the whole
world, by God. The trees were so tall-tremendous! He himself had
crossed that forest, by God, when he left the village with his par­
ents, crossed it in a wagon. They rode and rode and the forest still
didn't end. He fell asleep on top of the bedding on the wagon. When
he awoke he no longer saw the forest, and he cried, by God. He
cried and cried. Even Mintsa, their cow, cried. She walked behind
the wagon tied to it with a rope, and from time to time she would
turn her head back and bleat tearfully, lonesome for the calf left be­
hind in the village. Oh how pretty that calf was. He was reddish
with a white patch on his head. He would skip about all day long
like this, hop, skip, and jump. Petra bought him for five rubles, by
God. Cosma bought the pony, who also skipped about, but he was
black and kicked. In the village they had many cows and horses,
and now all they have is a single cow, Minsta, and a single horse,
Shmargaz, and he's in the sta ble. Eh, Marinka doesn't have a
Shmargaz!
Marinka would tell Noah about her chores in the yard and the
orchard, about the fruit in the orchard and how she spent dark
Behind the fence ':J9

nights there. She would sleep in the shack and was so scared. All
night long, a ghost used to walk along the pathways and stalk
among the trees. He would walk a bout quietly back and forth,
back and forth. Even Shakoripin was afraid of him. He would lie
beside her on a straw stack and d ose his eyes, pretending that he
heard nothing. Marinka would whisper a bout this, as if she were
telling a secret, and her whisper was suffused with a mysterious
terror that chilled Noah's blood for a moment. During one of their
talks, Noah asked her where her mother was. "I don't know, " she
said in a whisper. " And your father ? " Marinka was silent. "Is he
dead ? Are you an orphan ? " "I have no father, " said Marinka and
lowered her head.
Noah was full of pity. In the days that followed, he would share
with her all the delicacies his mother gave him. D uring the fruiti ng
season they would swap things. He would throw a piece of white
Sabbath �allah over the gate, and she would throw him a lovely
apple or a beautiful pear. At times he would break off a piece of
gizzard his mother had given him and pass it to Marinka through
the knothole. Sometimes he felt the urge to climb down into her
yard-but was unable to do so. It was hermetically closed off on
every side. Once when Noah talked about horses, Marinka told
him quietly, as was her way, that there was a l ittle pony i n
" Auntie's " stable called Gootsy. " Auntie " used him t o transport
her into the c ity. Noah became excited, " Really, a pon y ? Oh
please, Marinka, show me Gootsy. Take me to the stable . " " No,
no, n o . " Marinka was afraid. " It's forbidden . " " Yes, yes, " Noah
insisted. " It's permitted. "
And as he was talking, he climbed the fence. Marinka shook with
fear, j umped away, and spread her hands. " Get down, Noy, get
down! 'Auntie' will kill me, oy, oy, get down. "
And Noah got down. "Why i s she s o afraid of her 'Auntie' ? " he
would later ponder, out of pity for Marinka and hatred of the old
"witch . " How did Marinka get here? His compassion increased on
Sabbaths and holidays, when he would go out to the yard happy
and i n good spirits, well dressed and well fed, and find Marinka sit­
ting or standing on the other side at work, with her clothes and her
whole mien as before-all profane. It was then that she appeared to
him to be so forlorn and unfortunate. " Why wasn't she Jewish ? "
Noah was so sorry, and timing his action for when the " Auntie"
was not looking, he would hastily throw Sabbath delicacies to her
1 00 Behind the Fence

over the fence-a honeyed wafer and the like-whatever he had ear­
lier hidden for her in his' pocket.
Once, when he went behind the house, a suppressed scream
reached him from the other side-a sort of broken, stifled cry. He
peered through the knothole into the yard. No one. The cry had
come from the house. It was Marinka's. "Auntie" is beating her, he
thought, and cocked his ear. The cry was muffled and fragmented,
but it came from the very soul and pierced the brain, like the cry of
someone burned by a hot brand while gagged. It seemed to Noah
that she was screaming from the very pit of her stomach, crying
from her very toenails, from the very hairs on her head. Noah
couldn't stand that cry; his face writhed with pain and be began
hammering his little fist against the fence, hammering and crying,
hammering and gritting his teeth. " Oy, oy, stop it, stop it." The
hammering had no effect on the other side, it seemed, because the
crying did not cease. On this side, Tsipa Leah sensed what had hap­
pened and came running quickly. Only with great difficulty was she
able to detach him from the gate. His face was pale and his entire
body trembled with anger. " Oy, oy, " he cried and stamped his feet.
"She's going to kill her, to kill her. " Tsipa Leah dragged him away,
whispering an incantation against bad dreams.
"Tuf, Tuf! " she spat on the ground, wiping Noah's nose with her
apron. "The child's gone mad through sheer idleness. Can you
imagine? When the witch beats the little shiksah, he hammers on the
gate and cries. " Have you ever seen such a thing in your life ? Woe to
his mother, he has turned quite blue. "
When he went to bed that night, he couldn't sleep. He was in bed,
but his heart was behind the gate. The same dreadful crying rose re­
peatedly to his ears, piercing his brain. It no longer reached him
from outside, from some other place, but from within himself. His
very being was shaken. Noah got out of bed and placed his ear
against the wall facing the side of the gate and fell asleep. The wall
shrieked and shrieked. "What does the witch do to her ? " The
thought seared his brain. "What does she do to her ? "
When they next met, h e asked her about i t . Marinka d i d not re­
spond hut stood up and bared her arm a bove the el bow.
" Look . . . " The arm was totally bruised, swollen, and scarred. Red
gashes and blue ma rks were scattered all over it, one beside the
other, outnumbering the white areas. "What are they, Marinka ? "
" Pinches . " Noah's chin trembled. He wanted to hold Marinka's
Behind the fence 101

hand, to run his palm over it, to caress it-hut the gate lay between
them. " Does you r arm hurt Marinitchka, hurt a lot ? " Marinka
shook her head. "No. It only hurts when it's pinched . Oh how it
hurt! But not now. " " But why does she torture you ? " he cried, hit­
ting the fence with his fi st. " Marinitchka, why does she torture
you, huh ? " " I ' m a foundling, Noy, without mother or fa ther, "
Marinka responded, sobbing quietly. " A fou ndling? What's a
foundling ? Why do folks call her a bastard ? What does it mean
having no father and mother? Did they die ? " But Marinka says
that she doesn't know where they are.
Once he came and asked his mother, "What's a foundling, Mom ? "
Tsipa Leah was very busy a t the moment frying pancakes with her
maid and did not fully hear her son's question. "Oh, a foundling? "
Tsipa Leah said with her eyes o n the open stove, completely absorbed
with the pancakes sizzling in butter. "A foundling, you say. A
foundling is, is . . . 0 my God, the pancakes are burning! " And Tsipa
Leah quickly withdrew the pancakes from the stove. " Mom, Mom,"
Noah did not let up. " What's a foundling? Huh, Mom ? " " I f you
don't get out of here you little devil . . . Hanina Lippa! "
So Noah didn't know what a foundling was. He learned what it
meant i n the course of time, but by then Noah was already meeting
Marinka without any barrier between them.

At the rear of Hanina Lippa's yard and Shakoripinshchika's or­

chard, behind the Jewish quarter and beyond, there was a sort of
mysterious world-a desolate and spacious fallow field. It was com­
pletely surrounded by vegetable and squash patches and was en­
closed by fences on every side. You reached it by a narrow pathway
running between two fences and entered it through a breach. All
winter long it was abandoned to deep layers of white snow rising to
the height of half the fence-al l kinds of grasses and wild plants qui­
etly flourished there, with a lone calf or single hog grazing. The dis­
tant crow of a cock or the sound of a man's voice would reach this
place as though from another world. Everything would appear like
a dream. Once in a while, a gentile would come to scorch a pig and
skin its carcass. The only ragpicker of the area, a taciturn old man
who was slightly crazy and suspected of witchcraft, would stand
! 02 Behind the Fence

there alone for hours at a time with his stick and bag, silently pok­
ing at the refuse. He would poke as he moved his worn lips and
seemed to be whispering incantations. Along with the dried-out
skulls, the white skeletons, and the cows' horns lying in the dark­
ness, in the thick grass, and in hidden pits, there were also many
heavy and silent stumps of uprooted trees still buried in the soil.
Here and there one could even see the round, broad tops of felled
tree trunks looking like ancient monuments in memory of trees that
once existed but are no more. In the past, so they say, a verdant
grove of trees rustled in the area. Now a great silence prevails, the
silence of a graveyard. From this former glory only two trees sur­
vived: an ancient, superannuated oak tree, a mighty burgeoning citi­
zen planted in the middle of the field, with its top towering over the
roofs of the quarter; and a s ingle, low, half-desiccated pear tree
standing apart on its little mound and rotting in the sun. In addi­
tion, there was a thick, canopied sumac tree. This old tree stood iso­
lated outside the field near the breach, leaning with its branchy tree­
top against the gate, looki ng a l l those years from afar at the
oak-its mighty and older companion.
After Noah felt comfortable in the quarter, he would often go to
the field and pick wild pears or look for reeds. When he entered the
place alone, he was overcome by a silent fear of loneliness, as
though he were going into a haunted house. He did not go i n all at
once, but stealthily, bit by bit. First he poked his head through the
breach, peering to and fro, and then he placed one foot inside. This
he did cautiously and furtively. Hush! Any slight movement, such as
a rabbit leaping from one of the holes, would make his heart throb
with a kind of sweet, hidden terror. He did not understand why he
was frightened, but fear came over him as soon as he put in his
head. That field exerted some mysterious, threatening, and, at the
same time, tempting power. It was as if it had a hidden living soul in
all its lairs and pits that drew one toward it.
One July day, Noah entered the lot. It was as hot as a furnace; the
very thorns in the field gave off sparks of fire. Noah climbed a tree
and sat in it. For some days, he had not found Marinka at the knot­
hole. She was guarding the orchard's ripe fruit, and his soul pined
for her. He scan ned the a rea from the top of the oak and saw
Shakoripinshchika 's la rge orchard. One of its corners touched the
field's fence and sha red two or three of the fence's boards. The or­
cha rd's trees were laden with fruit; apples were ripe and pears had
Behind the Fence 1 03

turned yellow-but they were far off, far away. Perhaps he might
see Marinka from here and call her. But she was nowhere to be seen.
Noa h climbed down and went to the corner. The fence's boards
were high, with sharp tops. It was impossible to climb over them.
"If there was only some breach in the fence"-the happy thought
flashed through his head-"! would be able to see Marinka without
obstruction. " He at once began to dig up the earth under a board,
using his nails and a stick. After less than a quarter hour, a small
tunnel large enough to accommodate a fist was excavated under the
fence. He stuck his hand inside-ouch-the hand touched some
briar and was scratched. All of a sudden he felt something like a
mouth and a snout in the tunnei-Shakoripin! The dog began
growling and sniffing. He poked both claws inside, his body strain­
ing-scratching and digging with nose, mouth, and claws, and try­
ing with all his might to broaden the tunnel. He did not quite suc­
ceed and began to yelp quietly, as if to say-"Come help me. " At
that moment Marinka appeared between the trees. The dog with­
drew his head and ran toward her, pu l l i n g her to the tunnel.
" Marinka," Noah shouted gleefully. " Nay," Marinka was taken
aback and stood aside. "What are you doing here ? " " Please,
Marinitchka." " Get out of here right now," Marinka interrupted
him in a frightened whisper. " 'Auntie's' in the orchard. Go away
and come back tomorrow, in the morning. " Marinka whistled to
the dog and disappeared among the trees.
Noah returned home ful l of sorrow. All night long he searched his
mind for some device to break down the fence that lay between
Marinka and himself. The next morning he rose early and took the
little ax from under h i s father's bed, h i d it u nder h i s coat, and
slipped out of the house. In the yard he ran into Hanina Lippa, who
was standing at the well watering his horse from a bucket held
slantwise in his hand. His father peered at him suspiciously and
greeted him with a fatherly: " Good morning. Where are you going,
you little imp ? "
Noah, l ikewise, emitted a nondescript phrase a n d took off. " I
haven't any time," h e said a s h e dashed to the field. When h e ar­
rived, it was already suffused by a strong light, but the wild plants
in the shadow of the fence alongside the tunnel were still wet with
glistening dew. Noah sank down among them and i mmediately
went to work. He inserted the ax head below the edge of the board
nailed to the lower beam and leaned on the handle with a l l h i s
1 04 Behind the Fence

strength. The board gave way a little, and a bit of the black head of
a nail was exposed between board and beam. The space between the
two had widened enough to allow a finger to be inserted. At that
moment, Marinka and her dog emerged from between the rustling
trees. Noah strained again. One, two, three--cr eak! The lower nail
gave way completely, and the board dangled loosely from the upper
nail like a curtain. Noah pushed the "curtain" to one side. The or­
chard's cool air sent a sweet wave across his flaming face. On the in­
side in front of the breach stood Marinka and her dog. " Come on
out, " Noah said to her, holding up the board he had pushed aside.
Marinka and her dog squeezed through. The sun beat down on
Marinka's face blinding her eyes with its rays. In the strong light her
heart leaped with a deep sense of relief. Every leaf and tangle of
grass sparkled. She shaded her forehead with the palm of her hand
as a quiet, grateful smile flushed her face. " Is it good, Marinka,
good ? " "Very good, Noy, very good," she responded, smiling and
glowing like a bride. "And will you take me into the orchard,
Marinitchka ? " " I'll take you, Noy, I'll take you . " " And will you
give me some apples? " " As many as you want. " " And pears and
plums? " " Everything. I'll give you everything."
But Noah was no longer listening. He turned into a spinning
wheel. Mad with joy and bursting with energy, he began turning
somersaults like a four-spoke wheel, rolling along on its own. The
dog too ran, rolled, and pranced after him. Suddenly the earth swal­
lowed him. From below a peculiar whistling sounded. The dog
turned his head back toward Marinka and stood astounded. His
eyes asked, "What's this ? " " Noy," Marinka shouted, a bit fright­
ened. " Ha, ha, h a ! " Noah emerged from a pit into which he had
fallen as he rolled. "That was a good whistle, huh? Come and look,
it's a hole, a hole. "
Noah ran, pulling Marinka and the dog after him, and showed her
the pits hidden under tangles of thorns and j umbled weeds. From in­
side came a rustling sound and a furtive crawling of unseen beings. In
one of them a lizard flashed and immediately disappeared. Shakoripin
suddenly deserted the group and started after a rabbit. "Catch it,
catch it," Noah urged him on and ran alongside him. The rabbit
skipped ahead, reached the fence, and disappeared. "Heck. " Noah
gave up and fell to the ground exhausted. "He's hiding in the grass.
There's lots of rabbits here, hedgehogs and moles, too, even scorpions
and snakes. They used to live at the base of the house, big, small, and
Behind the fence l OS

tiny. Some were so beautiful. father would go out with his ax and kill
them off. " "K illing snakes is forbidden ! " Marinka said fearfu lly.
"Silly girl, forbidden? We are commanded to kill them . 1 Their dead
bodies were piled up in our yard. As sure as I'm standing here, I used
to hang them like sausages along the gate, Marinka . " Noah suddenly
j umped to his feet. "And when shall we go to the orchard ? " " follow
me, " Marinka nodded her head at him. " Shakoripin ! "
Shakoripin left the grass he had sniffed and explored, and ran af­
ter Marinka and Noah to the orchard. Beside the tunnel, the little
ax still lay where Noah had abandoned it. Marinka pulled the "cur­
tain" aside. " Come in."
The three of them were swallowed up by the orchard. Noah raced
ahead, exploring and running among the bushes and in the shade of
the trees. The joyous full-throated cries of morning birds rang out
over his head like crystal sounds. He was enveloped in a sweet cool­
ness. He ran-as round spots of light, swift and fleeting, like golden
mice, flitted across his face, head, and clothes, up and down, up and
down. He felt their warm, sweet caress on his cheeks. The dog ran
ahead, looking as if he had rolled over and become tangled in the net­
work of the intertwined light and shadow. Branches were weighed
down by large apples; they hit Noah's head, knocking off his hat.
Apples, apples, apples: apples above and apples below. Apples were
scattered in the grass over the entire surface of the earth. Next to the
hut, on a bed of straw, lay redolent piles of apples, large and small.
Atop the cherry trees, isolated, blacker than black, forgotten cherries
peered stealthily and craftily through the foliage. Among the low­
lying bushes, behind a green leaf, a single, modest mulberry, bluish
red and fine as silk, was still hiding-seeing but unseen.
Noah was intoxicated. The coolness of the shadows, the smell of
the fruit, the song of the birds-all assailed him at once and made
his head pound. He ran from one tree to another, plucking and eat­
ing, plucking and pocketing, plucking and trampling. Marinka did
not scold him. On the contrary, she helped him choose the ripest
and the best, showing him the choicest and tastiest fruit and filling
his pockets and his lap with them.
When Noah finally returned to his home-worn, tired, and happy,
out of breath and puffing, with his pockets heavy with apples, pears,
and plums-he again encountered his father at the courtyard gate.

30r killing them is a virtuous religious act (see Genesis 3:15).

1 06 Behind the Fence

But miraculously his father did not notice him; he was busy with
some farmer who was to transport a wagon loaded down with tim­
ber that the horses found hard to move. Thank God! Noah slid
peacefully into the house. He replaced the stolen ax under the bed,
and no one was the wiser. He took the apples, pears, and plums up
to the stable loft and hid them in a pile of hay, to await their time.
From then on, the field and the orchard became Noah's and
Marinka's meeting place. At every opportunity they would come to­
gether there, stretch out in the shade of the trees or sink in the grass
and play together. All this was done in secret because the neighbors'
bickering had begun again. Shakoripin, who always stood guard
over them, neither protested nor betrayed the secret. Marinka or­
dered him to keep silent and he did. In the end, he was drawn to
Noah and would greet him with leaps and joy, groveling, and wag­
ging his tail . He would wait with doggy eyes for Noah's hand. And
Noah, when he came, would bring a nice slice of bread-half for
Marinka and half for the dog.
On one such day, Marinka took Noah into her yard. This she did
with great caution and trepidation. From the first minute he entered
it, Noah felt he had come into a different environment. He ran at
once to the stable, half of which served as the pigpen, to see Gootsy.
Unfortunately for him, the stable was locked, and he peered inside it
through a crack. A pungent smell of warm dung reached his nose,
and when in the darkness his eye made out a pony standing at the
trough munching away, he was unable to stir from there. "Oh, oh,
Gootsinu, " 4 he implored like a small child as he stood peering in.
From the stable, he qu ietly approached one of the cracks i n the
fence and peeked into his father's yard. It seemed so odd, standing
on this side in the yard of the goyah and peeking into Papa's court­
yard. Everyth ing in it now appeared to him in a different light: a dif­
ferent color, a different order, everything in reverse. There's Papa
himself. "Ha, Ha. " Noah shrugged his head and smiled to himself
furtively. Papa himself was standing there among the beams quite
unaware. "Whenever I want to, I can make a face and stick my
tongue out at him: cock-a-doodle-do, cock-a-doodle-do. " Han ina
Lippa turned his head around as if surprised. Noah was seized with
terror and sidled off. Finally, he stole away and pressed his face to

4Thar is, lmlc Coorsy. The suffix 1111 in Yiddish and some Slavic la nguages is a
d i m i n utive expressing a ffection.
Behind the Fence 1 07

the window pane of Shakoripinshchika's home. He shaded his eyes

with his hands. Everything was quiet and asleep inside. The bed was
spread with many pillows and holsters piled high to the ceiling.
Noah also saw a hea vy, tin-plated, iron-clasped chest with a big lock
suspended from it, a table and benches in white wood, and icons
hanging on the walls. Noah turned his face from the window and
his eyes searched for Marinka . She was sitting as usual on the
bench, with Shakoripin crouching at her feet. "Marinka, do you go
to church ? " She shook her head: " No . " "Why not ? " "I guard the
yard . " " And where do you sleep in the winter?" "In the house . "
" With her, in the bed ? " " On the floor. "
Noah sat on the grass beside the dog at Marinka's bare feet and
looked at her compassionately. He wanted to ask her something but
did not. Tears filled Marin ka's eyes. " Why are you crying
Marinitc h k a ? Does 'Auntie' beat you ? Is she starving you ? "
Marinka's shoulders trembled a s she suppressed her sobs. Tears ran
down her cheeks. " Please don't, Marinitchka," Noah consoled her
by placing his hands on her knees. " Don't cry. I'll come to see you
everyday, I swear. "
And Noah kept his promise. Everyday he would bring her part of
his meal. Hour a fter hour Tsipa Leah would shout and scream
through the quarter: " Noah! No-ah! " But Noah paid no attention.
D uring these hours he sat with Marinka in one of their hiding
places-even the birds of the air did not know where he wa s.
Finally, their friendship was discovered, and a big quarrel ensued
between the neighbors. Tsipa Leah raised the roof. Alas, poor
mother. She sees the child wasting away like a wax candle, and
why? Because of the witch's bastard, may her name be blotted out.
Whatever we give the boy, the bastard gobbles up. God in heaven,
may worms and maggots consume her. Hanina Lippa loosened his
belt and wanted to lay Noah over the bench, but Tsipa Leah stood
in the way. Shakoripinshchika dragged Marinka into the house, and
nobody saw what she did to her there. From the house, one heard
only the broken, suppressed cries that pierced the brain. Noah, lying
in bed, heard the sobbing and almost went mad.
The two were separated for several days. Shakoripinshchika com­
pounded her prohibitions. Marinka was again isolated, completely
closeted. For days, Noah did not go to the field. Tsipa Leah guarded
him, kept hold of his hand. The knothole was also blocked. In the
narrow strip between the fences where Noah had his vegetable
1 08 Behind the Fence

patch, they placed all sorts of planks. The entiFe area was filled in.
Noah was furious. He lashed out and embittered his parents' lives.
No one understood what had got into him: " My patch, my patch,"
he shouted and kicked. "Why did you ruin my patch ? " Hanina
Lippa stamped his feet and loosened his belt. "Shut up, you bastard,
or I'll tan your hide and throw you to the dogs. Did you ever? He's
fussing over vegetable patches! "
The season o f rain and snow arrived. "Auntie" was i n the house,
and Marinka did not stir outside the yard. Fear of her "aunt's" an­
gry eye restrained her. In "Auntie's" presence, she was afraid to ap­
proach the fence. Even when Noy's whispered voice sometimes
reached her through the crack, she pretended not to hear it. The en­
trance to the field through the breach in the orchard was also
blocked. The snow kept one out. The field, as usual, was blanketed
with snow nearly half as high as the fence, and one couldn't wade
through it. A sea of white.
In the meantime, the neighbors' quarrels became more frequent
and more severe. For Marinka, these were days of constant hard la­
bor. In the Yid's yard, the piles of wood grew ever higher. All day
long, unloading and heaving, unloading and heaving. The fences
separating the yards also became higher and higher. Now there
wasn't even a crack. And if one existed, the tall trees along the
length of the fence on the near side blocked the eye.
When spring came, Noah was entered in the local �eder. Now he
was busy with other matters. Days, weeks went by, and no Noah.
Marinka waited for him in the orchard, looked for him in the field.
He was nowhere. "Where is Noy? Why doesn't he come ? " Marinka
would ask herself.
Once again summer arrived. Shakoripinshchika had already lost
her voice because of so much quarreling. But she did not deviate
from her habits. Day after day during the season, she would rise
early and go to the vegetable patch, returning to her yard after the
stars were out. During those days, Marinka would once again sit
alone and sad on the bench between the trees and the house.
Shakoripin would lie on her knees, and she would stare silently into
his eyes. At times when she looked at the high fences, she imagined
that it was not that they had grown higher but that she herself had
shrunk inside them. Sometimes when she sat there, with everything
about her silent in the summer quiet, a screaming cry would ring
out in the neighbors' ya rd-a woman's voice shouting in the dis-
Behind the fence 1 09

ranee: "Noah, No-ah . " Then Marinka would quickly run toward
the fence separating the yards. for the thousandth time, she would
search for a mere crack, a hairbreadth of a crack. Shakoripin sym­
pathized with her and helped her grope a bout. He ran and ran
ahead of her, leaning his two front paws on the fence over and over
again, scratching and digging with his nails, sniffing and sniffing.
And after searching in vain, she would return quietly to the bench,
raising Shakoripin to her knees, staring into his eyes and suddenly
hugging him tightly to her bosom, hugging him and trembling all
over: " Shakoripin, where is Noy ? "

" Noy" was dragged off to the heder everyday because he would not
go willingly. Tsipa Leah, his mother, would supply him with all sorts
of " royal delicacies" for a snack, such as gizzard, preserves, and the
like, and yet he still didn't want to go. Tsipa Leah cried, and Hanina
Lippa loosened his belt, but Noah was adamant: " I don't want to, I
don't want to. " He ran away from one �eder and again from an­
other. "What could you do with a little runt like him? Quite a young
man and still unable to distinguish between an aleph and a cross."
His heart was drawn to dogs, horses, orchards, and vegeta ble
patches. Everyday he sowed all sorts of patches and p lanted all
kinds of orchards. " Have you ever seen the likes of i t ? " They finally
handed him over to Reuben Hirsch, the melamed, a man who at
first glance seemed as sweet as a honey tart but turned out to be as
bitter as horseradish. He was a murderous drunkard with a sparse
mustache who mumbled " this" and " that" through his Adam's ap­
ple and crushed his pupils under his armpit until they almost died.
" He, Reuben Hirsch," so the neighbors told Hanina Lippa, "will
take care of him, he will . "
A t first, everything went smoothly. Every morning after removing
his tefillin, Reuben Hirsch would habitually slap his Adam's apple,
with a finger, cast a smiling, crafty wink at the sideboard in the cor­
ner, and then signal to the pupils that it was time for " this. " That is,
the bottle. After downing one, two, and three gulps, he would begin
" that," namely squeezing his p upils, crushing them one after the
other until tears flowed, all strength was drained, and they slumped
to the ground. In less than five minutes not a single pupil was left
1 10 Behind the Fence

sitting at the teacher's table. One was under the· table, another under
the bench, a third under the bed,5 a fourth rolling behind the slop
barrel, and a fifth in the hollow under the stove. "That," the crush­
ing, Reuben Hirsch would say, shrewdly squinting his small left eye,
is good for " this," namely, Torah.
When it came to Torah, Reuben Hirsch's wisdom faded. In no
way was Noah willing to accept the yoke of "this "-Reuben
Hirsch's Torah. During the two years that Noah studied Torah with
him, he fled the �eder and was returned to it about ten times. Once,
when Reuben Hirsch, after much " squeezing," tried to pull off
Noah's trousers and whip him, the boy gave his teacher a real kick,
straight in the stomach, and escaped. For a whole day and night,
Noah did not return either to his parents' home or to the �eder.
Reuben Hirsch and his pupils spread out everywhere to find him,
through the quarter and his usual haunts within and outside the
town's Sabbath limit6 until they got as far as the dogs.? Tsipa Leah
almost went mad. As fierce as a tigress, she burst into Reuben
Hirsch's �eder, rake in hand. All the neighbors leaped out of her
way and gathered outside the window. "Where's that drun k ? " she
shouted bitterly, shaking the rake at Reuben Hirsch, who was sitting
with his yarmulke on his head in front of his pupils, his eyes bulging
with sudden fear. "Where is my son's murderer? Let me kill him!
Children ! I must kill him." The pupils were faint with fear, and the
Rebbe j umped up in terror: " Beh, meh," he was wordless. He
wasn't able to move a limb. The rake swung before his eyes as he
stood there trembling, backing away slowly, looking for a way out
and unable to find one. All of a sudden, he took courage and like a
lion, with a single leap, escaped through the window and hid in the
outhouse, where he clung onto its boards like someone holding onto
the horns of the altar in ancient days. It was what Reuben Hirsch
would often do in moments of great danger, when a policeman came
to the house and the like. The pupils were delighted! From time to
time, one of them went out to check on their teacher, who was sit­
ting terror-stricken in his refuge. Each one wanted to see him in his
glory. " I s it all right to come out?" the teacher asked each of his vis-

1The t r a d i t i o n a l " c l a ssroom " was at t h e home o f the teacher, w h i c h due to

poverty a nd the h igh hirthrate had a hcd in a l most every room .
'The l i m i t m a r k i ng t h e 2,000 e l l s ( a hcJUt I ,000 yards) t h a t one w a s permitted to
walk on t he Sahhath .
..That i,, u m i l the homes of peasants whose watchdogs were fierce.
Behind the Fence I l l

iring pupils in a whisper. " God forbid, it's da ngerous, lie still,
Rebbe, lie stil l ! "
A l l d a y long Tsipa Lea h roamed about the suburbs with her
agents, looking for her son. In the even ing, Hanina Lippa joined
her. They searched the orchards and the empty fields; they probed
the pits and trenches. They stirred up all the dogs of the neighbor­
hood-all in vain.
About midnight, the good Lord opened their eyes. They found
their darling son asleep in the alley behind the fence, holding in his
hand a large, half-chewed cucumber!
After this incident, when Tsipa Leah made the rounds of all the
teachers, none would take him on. " It's impossible, Tsipa Leah, in
the middle of the term. We can't trespass on another teacher's pre­
serves. God willing, things will be different after Sukkot, all being
well." The teachers were afraid of her rake! Noah was hardly per­
turbed. He was, j ust then, busy raising pigeons, a task to which he
devoted all his time and energy. His friend Makarka had brought
him some pigeons from the peasants' suburb, and Noah was build­
ing a dovecote for them. Makarka specifically promised that he
would eventually even find Noah a dog. And he was already casting
his eye on one of Serafim's puppies.
Besides pigeons and dogs, there was one more object in Noah's
world-Marinka. But when Noah began beder, he firmly relegated
her to the back of his mind. He knew that Marinka sometimes went
out to pasture her pigs in the field, and he avoided going there. All
day long he would wander about the quarter but would never go to
the field. He was afraid and ashamed. Why and of whom ? He him­
self did not know. Each time he had occasion to pass that field, his
heart would pound, and he would glance at it sideways. It seemed
that from every crack and hole the single eye of Natke Kambala, his
former friend but now his deadly enemy, was watching him. This
blind man, may his thieving father perish, had only one functioning
eye in his head, but it was a sharp eye that could see through any­
thing. It always lay in ambush behind your back and your very
spine felt its presence. It was quite possible that he knew something
about Marinka and the field. Alas! Where could he hide the shame?
But the field continued to tempt him. One idle day Noah could no
longer restrai n himself and entered it stealthily. Immediately upon en­
tering he covered the breach with a piece of board and turned to and
fro overcome by a sweet feeling of dread. The field was the same as
1 12 Behind the Fence

before. The tall thorns and thistles grew there· i n a wild tangle as
usual, luxuriating and glittering in the noonday sun. From the sea of
vegetation, the back of a large pig protruded, and the squeals of little
piglets could be heard. The big pig chomped and snorted. Weren't
these Marinka's pigs? The underbrush rustled and trembled; a flight
of black and white butterflies fluttered in the air. Noah cocked his
ears. Some creature was hidden in the grass, rapidly making its way
toward him. Noah stopped and waited. The tremor in the under­
growth moved closer and closer, and suddenly Shakoripin leaped out
at him. The dog almost went crazy with delight. He began prancing
on both legs, hopping, j umping, and bouncing like a rubber ball,
reaching for Noah's face, intending to hug and kiss him. " Down,
down," Noah waved him off with a light affectionate gesture. His
heart leaped as well. He immediately began to cuddle him. He
grabbed his two paws and looked into his eyes, "Nu, dog, where to? "
The dog understood and began running ahead o f him through the
high grass, running and turning his head back from time to time until
he reached the oak. Under the oak, on a bed of grass, Marinka lay
asleep. Here the dog halted, as if to say-here's what belongs to you.
Noah inclined toward her slightly and looked at her. She lay there, the
poor girl, alone at midday in the deserted field, curled up in the grass,
her tiny fist tucked under her head, and her eyes tightly shut. He bent
down and touched her gently: "Marinka, Marinitchka . . . "

Marinka stirred and opened her eyes. "Noy ? " Half asleep she lay
dazed, her arms drawn up to his neck, as if of their own accord.
Noah closed his eyes and abandoned his head to her enticing arms.
His head grew faint with emotion. He did not notice that he was be­
ing drawn down to the ground.
An hour later-the high grass of the deserted field still covered the
two little neighbors. True, both had grown taller than they were be­
fore their separation. Now the grass could no longer conceal them
entirely: two heads, one dark and the other blonde, protruded. But
never mind ! Who would be mad enough to come here suddenly.
Besides, Shakoripin was diligently watching over them. Any slight
motion, any rustling, would immediately cause him to prick up his
ears. In any real emergency, there was always the deep, dark pit, its
entrance laced with branches and its interior always cool. There was
also a sma ll hollow whose floor was strewn with all kinds of jaw­
hones, horses' hooves, and teeth; and on its slope lay a single, or­
phaned gourd. Large and swollen, it grew here summer after sum-
Behind the Fence ) I]

mer, miraculously, on its own . No one knew who tied it at its center
here in the summer, and where it disappea red in the rainy season.
And beyond it was a small mound, completely overgrown with
thorns and bushes, and farther on, the trunks of the oak and pear
trees. You could have no trustier hiding places than these. Once
there, the entire quarter-a ll the world-seemed nonexistent, and
you could do whatever you wished.
Noah became a regular visitor to that deserted field. The summer
days were drawing to a close, and still no teacher could be found for
him, so he had plenty of free time. He was also no longer wary of
his friends. At noon, when Marinka and her pigs came out to the
field, Noah also came there after wandering through field and for­
est. He was tired and his face was flushed. As soon as he arrived, he
would spread-eagle himself in the deep grass or in some other hiding
place, lying there alone for hours with Marinka. They would tell
each other, as was their custom, whatever was in their hearts. He
spoke to her with intense passion and flashing eyes, as if he had nei­
ther enough time nor energy to tell her a thousandth part of what he
had in mind. And she spoke to him in slow and calm conversational
tones, very, very quietly, stringing words together and unveiling se­
crets. The subjects of their conversation were also a little different
from those in bygone days, before they had been separated. Instead
of the village and its farmers about whom Noah used to talk long­
i ngly, he now spoke about the katsaps' suburb and its habitants; in­
stead of swallows and ponies, he spoke of pigeons and horses-full­
sized horses that he, Noah, had ridden. Like a bird flies, like a bird.
No rider in the entire suburb could ride like him, not even
Makarka, and without any saddle, no saddle, believe you me. When
he mounts a horse and flies-gangway-whew! "And don't you go
to the shkola any more? " Marinka interrupted in a whisper.
Shkola? When ? Maybe next winter. For now, the teachers don't
want to take him, drat them! Does Mom really think that he will go
begging with her at the teacher's door and ask for pity? A fat chance
of that. Not for any money in the world! In any case he's already be­
come a byword to his former friends. And who is to blame, does she
thi n k ? Reuben H i rsch, that drunken leper who gives him no re­
prieve. On the Sabbath, when Noah goes to the synagogue with
Papa, Reuben Hirsch immediately sets his pupils on him. " Kurkivan
son of Pultiel"-that's what they call him. Do you know Kambala,
the blind man? You don't? Why he i s a rotten scoundrel beyond
1 14 Behind the Fence

compare. Whenever that blind man passes by him, by Noah, in the

synagogue, he makes his blood boil. He'll knock his brains out, as
sure is sure. You think that he passes you by chance, completely im­
mersed in his prayer book, but really-a plague on his healthy eye­
he only wants to provoke. If he ever meets him in the alleyway, he'll
poke out his other eye, he will! Next Saturday, he, Noah, will no
longer go to synagogue. No way! He will come here to the field, to
look for reeds and pick pears. "On the Sabbath ? "
Noah was slightly taken aback. " No, no, it was only a manner of
speaking. But even so, even if it is the Sabbath, so what?" He'll tell
her in a whisper; you're not going to tell anyone. When he goes to
the katsaps' quarter, he engages in every kind of work on the
Sabbath. He and Makarka. "And your Dad, what will he say? "
Dad ? What can Dad do? H e knows nothing. He, Noah, does what­
ever he pleases. Tomorrow, for example, he and Makarka are prepar­
ing to go to war, and against whom do you think ? Against Reuben
Hirsch and his pupils, no less! They will be going down to the river to
bathe, and he and Makarka will lie in ambush, and as soon as they all
undress, they'll come out of ambush and set the dogs-ha, ha, ha­
set the dogs on them. Oh boy, all hell will break loose. "And you
Marinitchka," Noah suddenly asked, "won't you go to the katsaps'
suburb? Uncle Serafim always asks about you. When you grow up, he
says, and you are able to work, he will take you in, he says, to his
home. He pities you; the old woman, he says, will torture you to
death. Marinitchka, would you like to go to Uncle Serafim ? "
Marinka was silent.
"Why are you quiet, Marinka ? You will be rid of 'Auntie' and her
beatings, and I could visit you everyday in the suburb. No? Tell me
the truth. Do you want to go to Uncle Serafim?" "When the time
comes, you'll see," said Marinka, her eyes shining and lovingly ca­
ressing his face. "Great," shouted Noah gleefully, jumping up and
climbing the oak tree. He grabbed the end of one of its branches,
shook it, and showered acorns upon Marinka's pigs. The pigs
rushed to the acorns, squealing and grunting, and Noah climbed
higher to the top of the oak. From there, he could see all the sur­
rounding country as if on the pa lm of his hand. On one side were
the qua rter's roofs, the yards with their timber piles, and the mar­
ketplace; and on the other, the vegetable patches, lines of fences, and
yellow fields stretching as far as the eye could see; and yonder, in the
distance, the suburb with its small white houses along the silvery
Behind the fence l iS

river wending its way beside it, and over there the black copse
across the river.
If Noah came to the field and did not find Marinka there, he would
immediately look for some other occupation for himself. Above all,
the pear tree. This low, very ancient tree was quite crippled; its roots
were bared and its trunk bent in strange turns and twists, fu ll of
humps and protrusions. Although its branches were thin, they were
twisted and crowded and heavier than the tree could bear. They ap­
peared to tangle with each other in mortal combat. If a breeze passed
through the tree, its tiny branches emitted a dry, rattling sound like
the low clinking of jars. Nevertheless, this old, dry, hardened tree was
very loath to die a natural death. Every seven years it girded its
strength and bore some kind of fruit. This year, for example, after a
desperate effort, it produced about a hundred sickle pears. Noah cast
his eyes on these pears from mid-August to Rosh Hashanah. When
they all ripened, they dropped one by one into his hands. Across a
nearby fence was the synagogue, from which untrained blasts and
screeches of a shofar that had fallen into the hands of the boys rent
the air. Noah, sitting alone on the tree, picked pears that were no
more than twice the size of a stone, as hard as gravel and sour as vine­
gar. They were also slightly salty, but this could be remedied. Noah
used to bury them in the hayloft in the stable. There they remained
until they rotted; once rotten, they would ripen and turn sweet.
Sometimes when he came to the field at eventide, the place was
empty and frightening, and Marinka was nowhere to be seen. He
would climb up and hide himself in the thick, aromatic top of the
sumac tree and stealthily search for birds' nests. Suddenly, when he
saw the sun setting and the skies were rivers of fire, a great awe
overwhelmed him. He lay silently on a limb, pressing his cheeks
against the cool, broad foliage. He rested his head u pon it as if
asleep, turning his flushed face toward the sinking sun. And then he
imagined that long ago he had grown on that tree like one of its
leaves. When he closed his eyes and was swallowed completely in
the tree, a picture of an evening in his native village at once ap­
peared before him. He, the child, was hidden in a little nut tree be­
side a thorn hedge. The rim of the sky was like a bonfire-the entire
universe was aflame. His father's yard was all redness. In the midst
of the yard stood some ten cows reddened by the sun, and between
their legs sat peasant girls with feet, arms, and shoulders bare, hold­
ing tilted j ugs in their hands. Thin, white streams of milk squirted
1 16 Behind the Fence

from the cows' teats in sweet, warm jets. The white foam in the j ugs
rose ever higher. He was overcome with desire to plunge his finger
in the milk and feel the warmth. The world was redolent with the
smell of milk. And suddenly Mother appeared in the middle of the
yard, her face turned to the sun, holding a pail of milk in one hand
and shading her eyes with the other. She stood all flushed, and a
voice was heard in the red void of the world: " No-ah, No-ah! "

The season of mists and rain had arrived; it was after Sukkot. The
deserted field was even more desolate. The foot stumbled and sank
in slippery mud. The leaves of the plants were trampled in the thick
slime, and the smitten stalks lay stretched out atop each other like
dead worms. The oak was completely stripped, and its branches ap­
peared black and twisted like a mass of dragons and flying scorpi­
ons leaping to attack each other but paralyzed and petrified in mid­
flight. The tall oak tree still held the remnants of leaves that beat
against it like soiled rags. The tiny valley was filled with brackish
waters, and the single gourd had suddenly disappeared as usual.
Marinka grew taller. She was sent out daily to the fields wrapped in
a shawl to dig holes for the potatoes-and Noah, Noah came under
the authority of a new teacher.
Marinka was once again locked away in the dark recesses of his
heart-for a long time.
The new teacher into whose hands Noah had fallen was by nature
a gentle, kindly man, cheerful and imperturbable. The pupils took
advantage of him, but no matter. "When there's no citron," Hanina
Lippa said, "you can fulfill the commandment with a potato."s
Until the Torah reading of Vayechi,9 the world went on as usual.
One Torah portion came and the other went. The pupils would skate
on the ice most of the time, and do battle with Reuben Hirsch's
pupils. The teacher received his full tuition fee and a bonus at
Hanukah and Purim. He would take a leisurely nap every day at

"On Suk kot Jews were commanded to hlcss the lulav ( pa l m fronds) and the cit­
ron,both considered to he bea u t i ful ohiccts.
'Genesis 4 7:211-49:26, a weekly Torah portion that genera l l y falls at the begin­
ning of the winter.
Behind the fence 1 17

noon. Once in a while Noah would sneak into the room when the
teacher was asleep and, in the presence of the other pupils, tie a small
bundle of snow wrapped in a rag over the teacher's bed exactly oppo­
site his face. The snow in the bag would drip down on the Rebbe;
drip, drop. The Rebbe, still half asleep, would slap his face as if chas­
ing away a fly, and the pupils would squirm with laughter until the
Rebbe woke up in fright. "Hoo, ha, who's there? What's going on ?
Get your bumashim. " During the goose-killing season Tsipa Leah
would send, as a free bonus to the Rebbe, a generous portion of
cracklings. So the world behaved itself until the Vayechi reading.
On Thursday evening of that week an accident occurred in con­
nection with the phrase va 'ani. I O Instead of "va'ani ya ak o v " that
' -

is, "and I, Jacob"-as the Rebbe had taught him to chant and trans­
late five days running, Noah suddenly intoned, "va'ani vaani " (and
I, Vani ) . I I This "goyish " error was a desecration of the sacred name
of our father, Jacob, with the impure name of some Vani from the
katsaps' suburb. The error kindled the fury of even the good and le­
nient teacher. " Ca n this be possible, can this be ? " In short, he lost
his temper and was about to slap Noah's face. Noah, anticipating
the blow, hit him first-and fled.
He fled, but the name Van i pursued him all winter long and well
into the beginning of the following summer. From now on all the
boys called him Vani, and Noah would wait in ambush in the alley­
ways and attack them. When they went down with their teachers to
bathe in the river, he and his gentile friends would set the suburb's
dogs on them and stone them. Everybody realized that without a de­
cisive battle things were impossible. One Sabbath day in summer,
the battle broke out.
On the green field between the Jewish quarter and the katsaps'
suburb-the usual battlefield-from two opposite sides the two
camps came forth. The Israelite boys were headed by Natke the
thief on the one side, and the suburban "goyim" were headed by
"Vani "-that is, by Noah-and Makarka on the other.
The sun was about to set. The green field and its yellow flowers
turned crimson. High in the air above the town a golden cross12 was
lit. The camps were ready for battle.

I O "And I" (Genesis 48:7).

1 1 Vani or Vanya is a shortening of the Gentile name Ivan or John.
1 2 Atop the local church.
1 18 Behind the Fence

Suddenly the air trembled. The city's big bell sounded: " Boom,
boom, boom . . . " "Hurra h ! " a great shout arose from the enemy
camp followed by a heavy hail of stones. " Be strong and of good
courage," the camp of Israel roared on the opposite side and let fly
gravel stones at the enemy.
The battle was long and heavy. Both sides fought with fierce enmity.
Stones flew, sticks whistled, dogs barked, noses and skulls bled, and
the bell kept on tolling all the while: "Boom, boom, boom . . . "

The camp of Israel held its ground. Everyone felt the importance
of the hour. Most of the stones, according to a predetermined com­
mand, were aimed at Noah. " How come a Hebrew lad joined hands
with the goyim? We'll kill the apostate this very day. " And again
stones flew into the air, and again the shouting of "Hurrah! " and
" Be strong! " rose up in unison. The little children gathered stones,
and the bigger ones did the throwing. Eyes burned, faces flushed,
and hands never tired.
The sun was already resting on the treetops, but the bell still per­
sisted: " Boom, boom, boom . . . " The field resounded with terror.
Heavy, dull, and dark, the solid peal of the bell shattered into pieces,
falling one by one into some dark abyss. But the atmosphere around
the combatants was continuously shaken by a heavy, reddish, fright­
ening, and alien roar that rolled on wave after wave and spread over
the green fields and the reddening lots.
And the hands, the hands of JacobB grew weak. Meanwhile the
sun had set and the "apostate" was not killed. With the darkening
of twilight the enemy camp grew larger and larger. From every side
the irate barking of dogs drew closer and closer and increasingly
surrounded them. The clink, clink of the dogs' little bells mingled
with the booming of the big bell. The Jewish boys were terrified and
fled to say their evening prayers in the synagogue in the alleyway,
while Noah returned with the band of goyim to the katsaps' suburb.
All that evening he sat among the goyim like a mourner at a wed­
ding, as though he were the one defeated. After Havdalah Hanina
Lippa came there by cart to fetch Noah home. Noah did not refuse
and went with him at once. During the entire way they both sat
silently in the cart. When they arrived home, Hanina Lippa left the
horse and cart in the yard just as they were and took Noah into the
stahle, locking the door from the inside. What he then did to him

1 1Scc Genesis 27:22.

Behind the fence l i 'J

only the wa lls of the stable, the wheels, and the pegs lying in the
da rkness knew. When the deed was completed, Hanina Lippa
emerged with blood smeared on his hands and face. As he came out,
his feet stum bled over Tsipa Lea h's body, lying in front of the
threshold where she had fa inted. Noah was carried home by the
neighbors, limbs broken and half dead.

Noah was bedridden for about two months. When he recovered and
went outside one summer day, he found that he was totally isolated.
His former friends avoided him; the teachers had totally given up on
him. And Marinka-she too was not to be found in the yard. She
worked in the fields as a female hand, and when she returned at night,
there was no opportunity to talk to her. He was, after all, a "grown­
up," and there were eyes that saw things. During the long, idle days
of that summer, Noah roamed the fields and lots and went down to
the vegetable patches. He rode horses, swam in the river, and sallied
into the woods. In the evening, he would return, hair disheveled and
face flushed, carrying the fruit and produce of the woods-truffles,
m ushrooms, wild walnuts, crab apples, sickle pears, all kinds of
berries, and sometimes even a strange bird. He would bury the pears
and apples under the hay in the stable to let them ripen. He had al­
ready several bushels stored away. All of Tsipa Leah's tsimeses con­
tained them. He would place the birds in cages, which he hung from
the high beams of his home. The entire building was filled with chirp­
ing and bird droppings; there was no escaping them. " You could go
out of your mind," Tsipa Leah complained. " Almost a bar mitzvah
boy and he plays with chicks. Hanina Lippa, why do you keep quiet?
Are you a father or aren't you ? How will it all end ? "
Hanina Lippa took h i s wagon t o town a n d returned with a pri­
vate tutor for Noah-a silken young man who had j ust finished liv­
ing with his in-laws.14 He was a thin, desiccated creature, all skin
and bones. "Do you see this gizzard ? " Hanina Lippa said to Tsipa
Leah immediately upon enteri ng the house and pointing to the
young man. "He cost me seventy bills plus his meals, a big deal, a

14lt was customary for a newly wedded couple to live with the bride's family for
several years, depending on the terms of the marriage contract.
120 Behind the Fence

kosher bargain, huh? Don't pay attention to his looks. He's little
and emaciated but full of Torah like a bulging sack. We only have to
feed him up a bit and he'll be a man. Where's our little jewel?"
The " jewel " was at that time sitting in the stable busy with a
puppy that Makarka had given him as a gift the day before. He was
a pretty, curly dog resembling a lamb covered in white wool and
many, many curls. Only his tiny eyes and the tip of his nose shone
through the whiteness like three deep purple spots. When Hanina
Lippa stabled his horse and found his son dawdling in this fashion,
he became very angry: "You bastard," he shouted. " You bring him
a Rebbe and he plays around with a dog! Seventy bills I paid; sev­
enty lashes I'll pay you on your body. "
The new Rebbe sized up the creature before him and, seeing what
he was worth, concentrated his efforts upon a single practical task:
eating. Coincidentally he taught his pupil how to put on phylacter­
ies, using Hanina Lippa's for that purpose. These were the size of a
pair of boots, if you will pardon the comparison, and their straps
were hard and thick as sandal leather. Everyday the young man
would "harness," as he put it, "the donkey," that is, Noah-binding
the straps on his arms and teaching him the rules by rule of thumb:
"Tighten them, tight, tighten them properly and say 'Blessed art
thou,' wrap and wrap them round again three, four, five . . . whoa
stop! Now around the finger, one, two, three, and the head piece ! "
Tsipa Leah saw the fruit o f her womb decked out in phylacteries
and almost wept for joy. How fortunate she was. She was pleased,
and the Rebbe received his due. While he was still folding his prayer
shawl and hardly finishing the " Aleinu"--on the table before him ap­
peared one after the other: a lovely flask of vodka, a reddish plate of
cherry preserves, a glorious gizzard, a handsome chicken thigh, the
choicest of waffles, sweet-smelling cracklings fried with onions, a
warm roll, and a pancake dancing in fat. "Taste them, Rebbe, do
taste them," Tsipa Leah urged him. "A hearty appetite ! " See here, my
son, you must listen to the Rebbe. You're a bar mitzvah boy. Oh, the
pain of it, the torments," and she wiped her eyes on her apron.
Several weeks went by. The young man carried out his duties faith­
fully; he stuffed his mouth with food, and the food likewise fulfilled its
task. On one unbearably hot evening in June, he could no longer con­
trol himself and made a pass at the maid. He entered her room quietly,
but as you can well imagine, emerged in an uproar-two slaps on the
face and flaming cheeks-causing the entire household to jump out of
Behind the Fence 121

their beds. The pupil hopped out of his bed with the rest and found
the bewildered Rebbe in his underwear in the middle of the house, his
right side-lock folded over his ear and his bared cheek aflame.
By sunrise, the young man had fled. Tsipa Leah rushed to examine
her silver spoons and forks in the chest of drawers, and finding them
all untouched, her mind was put to rest. She was not sorry, but her
j oy was mitigated: woe to the mother whose child becomes bar
mitzvah without a Rebbe.
Noah was now permanently free of Rebbes. When he reached thir­
teen, the ceremony of donning phylacteries by the "only son " took
place in the synagogue under the sole supervision of Hanina Lippa,
but with the aid of some neighborly wagoners. The poor father had a
hard time during the procedure. The task was a bit too delicate for his
hands, and two outsize drops of perspiration formed on his forehead.
The head piece would in no way " sit" on the skull. Berele, the old
wagoner, fulfilled the commandment of "you shall surely help" 15 and
rushed to his aid. "Tsk, the head piece is a-kicking; rein it in a bit."
After the prayers the wagoners and all the other guests joined in the
bar mitzvah meal. The house became as noisy as a tavern. Tsipa Leah
and her maid carried in platters of food. The wagoners poured glass
after glass down their throats as they shouted, "Le-bayim! " They
blew their noses like trumpets and put their teeth and jaws to hard la­
bor. Spoons and forks dug into bowls, and plates and pitchers gave
each other ringing kisses. Poor Hanina Lippa stood over the guests,
responding with "Le-bayims " in all directions and sweating like a
bear. Old Berele, who had polished his boots with resin for the occa­
sion, suddenly rose from among the assembled guests, properly
soused, thick-tongued, and unsteady on his feet, began banging with
his fork, and calling out, full-throatedly, at the lady of the house, long
life to her, that she Tsi-tsipa Leah'nu sh . . . should come over to him
since he has to tell her s . . . s . . . something. Le- le- le-bayim, he
wants to say to her. And Matty Funfy turned his snub-nosed face to
the celebrant and asked in nasal tones: " Young fe-n-llow, do-n you-n
want to-n ge-n-t marrie-n-d ? " The young fellow stared at him with
burning eyes and blushed. "Heh, heh, heh, " snub-nosed Matty smiled
and patted him on the shoulder, "you're quite a fellow ! "
After the party, while Hanina Lippa lay snoring o n his bed like a
wooden plank and Tsipa Leah busied herself with clearing the dishes,

1 5Exodus 23:5.
1 22 Behind the Fence

Noah went out to the courtyard to get some fresh· air. He was uncom­
fortable in his new suit and felt hemmed in. Unwittingly, he reached
the alleyway between the house and the fence. It seemed that for a
moment Marinka's blonde hair appeared above the fence. His heart
leaped with veiled delight. She probably climbed up to see what our
house was celebrating, but how did she do it? With a ladder?
Noah yearned to climb the fence and see for himself, but then he re­
membered the phylacteries and turned away. His body again felt the
weight of his new clothes. All day long they had irritated him. That
evening, when he finally rid himself of them and found himself at his
bedside in his new underwear, his whole being felt pleasantly relieved.
When he got into bed, he recalled the nasal question asked by Matty
Funfy word for word, and its tone: " Young fe-n-llow do-n you-n
want to-n . . . ? " Noah quickly wrapped himself tightly in his blanket
but the dirty question penetrated even beneath the cover and became
a hairy, pug-nosed face leering at him with yellow teeth. "Young fe-n­
How do-n you-n . . . ? " Next moment it distorted itself into the shape
of the young Rebbe with his Adam's apple, standing abashed in his
underclothes in the middle of the house. Noah writhed with repressed
laughter, and from Shakoripinshchika's locked cellar Marinka poked
her head out at intervals calling, " Cuckoo ! "
One day, Noah rose early in the morning a n d went out without
saying his prayers. Wherever he went, he did not return until meal­
time. His new phylacteries with their resin smell were left untouched
in their sack on that day, and for many days thereafter.
Gossip spread throughout the quarter. No one saw or heard any­
thing. On the contrary, everyone knew that nothing had happened
or could have happened-but nevertheless, everyone was gossiping.
And word of what was being said reached the ears of both neigh­
bors, although no one had told them. The two neighbors also knew
that they were groundless. Nevertheless, a fresh quarrel was added
to the others involving the two neighbors: a long and cruel battle
between father and son and between "Auntie" and her foundling.

Some four more years elapsed. Hanina Lippa's house had sagged a
little along one of its sides, but a new roof capped the old one.
The yard had broadened at its rear and now reached as far as
Behind the fence 1 20\

Shakoripinshchika's orchard. At that spot, at the very border of the

orchard, a new structure now stood, a sort of shack for the drying
of lumber. Near the top of the shack was a small, square window,
and one of the goyah's trees rubbed against its back boarding. The
shack was joined to the old stable, and both formed a single, long
structure extending toward the orchard and crowding its fence. The
piles of lumber in the yard also grew taller. Hanina Lippa, who had
grown somewhat older and had a running ear stuffed with a piece
of cotton wool, no longer knew his way around so wel l .
Shakoripinshchika's house had sunken into the earth an additional
span and the barriers between the two properties rose even higher of
their own accord. The goyah's back had also bent over, and her
strength had declined. Shakoripin rattled his chain unhappi ly. Noah
and Marinka, who had grown up in the meantime, yearned for each
other and became more and more cautious in their ways.
Noah was now eighteen years old, a strapping young man. His
large forelock was as black as pitch, and he wore his hat, with its
shining black crown, tilted over his ear like a bold Cossack . His
dark face and coal-black eyes were like a gypsy's. He was a frequent
guest in the katsaps' suburb. When he returned from there on his
steaming horse, he would burst into the Jewish quarter suddenly­
" Hey there! Make way ! " He would pass through the entire quarter
in a flash, like a bolt of lightning. All the groups of wagoners who at
that time were standing in the middle of the street would automati­
cally split in half. Each burgher would flee in terror to his yard gate
with a twisted smile on his lips: " that jewel. " Through the windows
the daughters of the burghers would stare breathlessly at the dust
raised by the dashing horse and rider until both disappeared.
When Noah went out in his tall, shiny boots and his short j acket
and stood at the yard gate, his appearance made an impression on
the quarter. The apprentice wagoners, who lingered nearby chatting
away together, lowered their voices a little. Boys and girls turned
aside and passed by him hastily. There was something in his look, in
his whole demeanor, some element, some kind of movement that set
the hearts of the boys and girls aquiver. It was something that at­
tracted and at the same time frightened them. Sometimes a single
courageous girl would deliberately pass before his burning eyes,
seeking to be stirred for a moment by a sweet and sharp sensation.
But Noah paid no attention to the girls of the quarter. He re­
mained silent, and no one knew what he thought. He did not social-
124 Behind the Fence

ize with the people, nor did he do much talking _with the wagoners.
Once, a bachelor wagoner put himself at risk by hinting to him­
" Eh, eh, to the katsaps' suburb, that is, to the shiksah s ? " Noah eyed
him sternly, and the latter's blood froze: "What did you say, leper? "
" Eh, eh, nothing, I've said nothing," the fellow spluttered as he
backed away, with his whip tucked under his armpit.
Most days, Noah did not show himself in the quarter, nor did he
mix with its people. On Sabbaths and holidays he went to syna­
gogue and stood to the side a lone, looking at h i s prayer book
silently without even moving his lips. During the intervals, he did
not go out to the hallway. When his father returned home, he found
him already there.
On other days, Noah went and did whatever he pleased; Hanina
Lippa didn't check up on him. In the course of time, his father's au­
thority had lost its sway; no one knew exactly when. Only Tsipa
Leah still kept an eye on Noah from afar. She would darn a stocking
and sigh furtively.
But Noah's wandering days were over. At the back of Hanina
Lippa's house was a pile of planks, higher than the rest. From its top
you could see everything in the goyah's yard.
Noah spent most of the day there. No one else knew why he lay
there all day long. From the top of this lookout his eyes spoke to
Marinka's.
At sunrise, when the sunflowers and their garlands on the goyah's
roof turned golden, Marinka would leave her sleeping shack in the
orchard and show up in her yard. At that hour, she would go out
carrying her tools and her small bundle to the fields. At the same
time, Noah stood straight up on top of the pile and greeted both the
sun and Marinka with a smile. She stood below, healthy and pink,
smiling at him and blushing, while he from up above, dark and with
gleaming teeth, would smile at her as well and toss his forelock,
"Good morning. " His eyes would follow her until she disappeared.
After she left, Noah would stretch out on top of the pile and fix
his eyes on the yard. He knew that Marinka would not be returning
until the even ing. Nevertheless, he would lie there, staring. The
morning commotion was about to begin in Hanina Lippa's yard.
The maid would milk the cow and send her out to pasture. The old
man would pull the horse out of the stable by his mane toward the
well, speaking goy-talk to it, as was his custom. Tsipa Leah would
feed the chickens, crying, "Tsip, tsip, tsip, " and Noah would still
Behind the Fence 1 25

not stir. When he finally rose to descend, the sun was already at irs
zenith, and among the lumber piles stood two or three wagoners
with their planks half unloaded.
In the hot, dry hours of afternoon, while some of the sh utters
were bolted and boards would exude sap and creak because of the
heat, while a swallow pursued its mate in midair before catching up
with her, and while the world was satiated and weary with plea­
sure-at such times Noah would go out to the yard after the midday
meal and wander about as if drunk among the high stacks of wood.
His head was befogged, his body heavy, and his skin unable to con­
rain its flesh. He would try to find a niche for himself but without
success. He would go from one hiding place to another. Sometimes
he would disappear into the alley, stretch out on the ground, and lie
in the shade; and sometimes he would go behind a stack of beams.
Finally he would again expose himself to the sun on top of the high
stack. He would sprawl on his back and lie on his belly for an hour
or two, his head propped up on both hands and his eyes focused on
the neighbor's yard. He could now see everything inside it. Over
there, lying on irs side was a large keg from which two dirty and cal­
lused feet protruded-they were the feet of Shakoripinshchika who
now stayed home to guard the yard instead of Marinka. She was
taking her afternoon nap i n the keg. Over there was the orphaned
bench, and here was Shakoripin, crouching stealthily, curled up be­
side the shack as he caught flies with his mouth and growled. Once
in a while, he would open one eye slightly, peering at Noah through
the slit of his lids. " Dog, why are you angry with me ? "
Sometimes Noah would slip away and suddenly disappear from
the yard. Tsipa Leah, who sensed this, would go out in search of
him because of some hidden concern. She would find him at last un­
der the roof of the new stable. He would lie there i n the dark, deep
in the hay, peering through the little window at Shakoripinshchika's
orchard or the deserted field. "What is he doing in the loft ? " Tsipa
Leah was worried and vaguely suspicious.
She decided not to take her eyes off him. It became clear to her
that the " boy" should be carefully watched, especially when
Marinka showed up i n her yard or her orchard. Marinka was now
fully grown and had become a beautiful and healthy young woman.
At twilight, when she returned from the fields with her implements,
with hoe or scythe on her shoulder, Noah would pop out and ap­
pear at the fence or at the corner of the roof or some other hidden
1 26 Behind the Fence

place where he could talk to her. Tsipa Leah noticed this, and one
afternoon, while sitting at the threshold darning a stocking, she sud­
denly said to her husband, who was sitting beside her, " You know,
Hanina Lippa, I think we must marry him off." "Who? " "The boy!
Noah! " "Mazel Tov! Have you run out of time, woma n ? " "You al­
ways have plenty of time. . . . "
Tsipa Leah shifted her knitting needle from hand to hand and
sighed. At that moment Noah was lying in the hay under the roof of
the stable in the dark, plucking small pieces of the remnants of the
Sabbath f:Jallah and throwing them through the little window into
the orchard. There amid the bushes, Shakoripin was standing with
head and eyes raised toward the window as he caught the pieces in
midair. The orchard was silent in the midafternoon. The tree bor­
dering the new stable's wall leaned its crest against the sloping roof
and did not stir. Beneath the ceiling could be heard the dull stomp­
ing of hooves, together with the chomping of teeth and the swishing
of a tail; the horse was standing there at his trough chewing oats in
the dark and fighting off flies with his tail. Through the open holes,
tiny windows to the sky, swallows came in and out as they chirped
and cavorted gleefully, flying for a moment in the stable's dim and
empty space: tweet, tweet, and again tweet, and then they would fly
away. On the hay, stone chippings and round sunspots were strewn
here and there like scattered coins, and slender golden strips spread
out. In a corner, a thin spider's web trembled. From outside, from
distant fields and patches, through orchards and meadows, endless
strands of melodies and fragments of the melancholy songs of
farmhands reached him-long and short, fierce and soft, near and
distant-and penetrated the darkness of the loft through the small
window. They were so stealthy and so sweet, filling the inner re­
cesses of the heart. Noah sensed in all his limbs that at this hour, as
he reclined all wrapped in the dusty and redolent hay and enveloped
in this sad and shining darkness, something was ripening within him
like the wild fruit he had stored here, like those plums on the trees
that even now were bu rsting with j uice. H i s heart swelled like
dough in a mixing bowl. His body filled from within, and his blood
cried out from his flesh. Suddenly his heart trembled, and a sweet
wave flowed over him. In the strains of escaping sound, it seemed
that a quick syllable, a short, powerful note from Marinka's song,
flashed for a moment and was immediately extingu ished. Noah
Behind the Fence 1 27

pressed against the little window; the dog turned his head and froze.
Both as one sensed her voice and waited silently with bated breath
and trembling heart for an encore.
At times, Noah lay here in the loft, and his soul would go flying
with the swallows through the little window over there to the fields
and patches where Marinka was now standing with her companions
amid the high corn and the ripe vegeta bles, or he would sit alone
with Shakoripin, near the shack, standing guard over the earth's
produce. He lay there, seeing but unseen, behind a fence, peering
furtively at what was going on inside, devouring every part of her
body with his eyes.
So he lay all day long, and in the evening when Marinka returned
home, he might emerge from his ambush and suddenly appear be­
fore her in one of the alleys. Or he might not! Perhaps he might also
follow her and hide in the orchard, and when she came to the shack
at night, he too would come there.
When his blood reached boiling point, Noah would leap through
the fence at the end of the yard, and his feet would at once be stand­
ing outside the Jewish quarter. He would walk along the shabby and
damaged reed barrier as its shadow followed him and wound itself
around him, strip by strip, in a cold and warm envelope of black
and white, like a prayer shawl. Every summer, the crowded houses
disappeared. The gardens and vegetable patches would emit their
scents. The deserted field looked at him through the breach in its
fence, winking at h i m like a l i ving creature. Upon your l i fe, he
would actually see eyes blinking at him from there.
Suddenly, a sweet perfumed breeze covered h i s face. He was
completely hidden i n the heavy shadow of the sumac tree that
stood with its thick foliage on the outside near the breach. At that
moment, a golden shower poured over his head-the chirping of
birds and grains of l ight streaming down from the top of the
sumac tree. The birds themselves were u nseen, but from their
chirping you could infer that there were many thousands of them,
as if the entire sumac rang with tinkling leaves-and it was magic.
Once there he was unable to budge. A wave of sweetness swept
over him, his eyes crusted over, and his limbs grew limp. The earth
actually drew him to its bosom. He looked for a secret hideaway
to be with her, and he entered the deserted field. There he found a
hiding place, a round hollow shaped like a mortar, concealed in
128 Behind the Fence

the darkness, and padded with grass and brush. Light filtered
through the thatch drop by drop, and the wild plants inside
shaded themselves i n random fas h ion with their broad, thick
leaves. He threw himself spread-eagle into the chill, dark void of
the pit. The grasses screened him as he lay face down, pressing his
cheeks against the earth and digging his nails into its moist, loose
soil. At such a time, h i s soul would return to its roots and he
would become one of the fruits of the earth, one of its plants. Each
one of his hairs imbibed the scent of the soil, and all the blood of
his youth cried from the earth: Marinka.
Marinka continued to grow, conti nued to dominate h i s
thoughts. By n o w s h e w a s free t o come a n d g o as s h e pleased. Yet
j ust now fortune did not bring them together to a single tryst. She
no longer went out to the field. "Auntie" had noticed the breach
and filled it in. Marinka was clearly avoiding him. In the morning,
her eyes smiled at him with promise, but in the evening when she
returned, her promise disappeared into the shack where she slept
night after night. He knew what time she went to the katsaps' sub­
urb, but he never met her there. Maybe he ought to lie in wait for
her in one of the alleys.

10

One Sabbath eve, a s darkness fell, Noah lay hidden among the
thorns and thistles growing under the fences outside the quarter and
waited. He knew that Marinka would be returning this way from
her daily labor. It was a hideaway; fences and hedges stood on every
side, and at this hour few people frequented it. Nearby was the
small portal leading to the orchard.
Noah's heart beat wildly. All about him reigned a great silence,
the quiet of a Sabbath eve outside the quarter. Stars flickered one af­
ter another, a large, round moon was cut in half by a pole across the
way as it rose over a hedge. From beyond the fence behind him, the
chanting of the Sabbath worshipers in synagogue rang out, pouring
a mysterious sadness over the thorns . . . the sound of the congrega­
tion and then the cantor's voice.
A hushed sadness and a veiled fear invaded Noah's heart. There
behind the fence, about forty or fifty paces away, in the big and
many-windowed building filled with light and the voices of the wor-
Behind the fence 1 2':!

shippers greeting the Sabbath, his father would be standing dressed

in his Sabbath kapota and hat and calling out aloud: " For forty
years I was angry at a generation " '6 • •and he a traitorous Jew lay
•

in am bush behind some fence waiting for a shiksah.

The moon rose on high and in the meantime was caught between
a tree and the chimney of a white house in one of the fields. In the
foliage nearby, a strip of path leading to the orchard glistened white
while crickets sawed away. Soft, hushed steps were heard. Noah
raised his head a little and got ready.
In the light of the full moon, Marinka appeared with hoe on
shoulder. As soon as she reached the hideaway and disappeared into
its shadows, Noah took a single leap, and his hands clasped her hips
like a vise. "Nay ? " Marinka was terror-stricken. She dropped her
hoe. "What are you doing? Let me go. "
Noah did not release her. H e was out o f his mind. H e clasped her
to his heart, lifted her into the air, whispered in her ear, kissed and
fondled her, mouthing all sorts of wild phrases: " Do you love me,
Marinitchika, tell me do you love me? Why are you silent? Do you
love me? "
Marinka struggled i n the vise, pushing h i m away and drawing
him to her simultaneously. She pressed herself against him more and
more. Her whisperings finally became lower and softer, full of pain
and entreaties. " Let me go, Noah, let go now, there's no need . . . "
"When Marinitchika, when? Tonight in the orchard ? " " No, no,"
Marinka whispered, but all her being was saying, "yes . " And sud­
denly she stirred and called out i n fear: " Let go, oy oy, do you hear ?
People are coming. "
She pushed Noah away with all her might.
Noah released her. In the orchard, bushes and dried branches rus­
tled. Marinka lifted her hoe without looking behind her. She ran to­
ward the orchard. A moment later the little portal closed behind her.
Noah remained alone between the hedges and the fence. The noise
of prayer ceased. Was it the silent prayer, or was the service over?
He hurriedly returned to the quarter.
The houses to his right and left had taken on the air of Sabbath.
Window after window had its lit candles. Only the goyah's home
stood isolated as if under a ban, windowless and without candles. It
seems that the rest of the quarter's homes stared at it from their lit

16Psalm 95: 1 0 .
1 30 Behind the Fence

windows with the delicate contempt of the privileged. Men's heads

were not seen in the windows. If so, Noah consoled himself and
turned into the synagogue's alleyway. "The silent prayer! "
I n the alley he ran into those who were leaving the synagogue. He
intermi ngled with them and tried to show himself to his father,
greeting him uncharacteristically with "a peaceful Sabbath," and
followed him home.
About an hour after dinner, when the full moon-the white moon
of a hot July evening-was shining over the quarter, heavy-limbed
Jews and Jewesses began to leave the porches and lock themselves
into their bedrooms. Noah suddenly told his mother that tonight he
was going to sleep up in the stable loft. "Why the stable loft ? " his
mother asked in worried tones, looking at her son's glistening eyes.
" Because I want to. " "I'll make up your bed in the hall." " No, in
the stable . " "Pfft, " his mother spat. " Crazy. "
He climbed into the stable loft but did not take any pillow with
him. All night long Tsipa Leah was unable to shut an eye. She imag­
ined that there were thieves in the stable. Several times she wanted
to wake Hanina Lippa but controlled herself. She was now afraid to
let Hanina Lippa enter the stable.
The air of the stable reeked with the smell of warm sweat and
dung beyond bearing. The horse stood in the total darkness of the
lower level, weary and kicking incessantly with dull thuds. Noah lay
in the loft turning and tossing impatiently. The same demon tor­
mented them both.
Finally the quarter fell silent. Noah cocked his ear. It seemed as
though the tree that leaned against the outside wall of the stable was
secretly scratching its side. He got up and stuck his head out of the
small window. The tree presented him with two ripe red apples
hanging on a nearby branch, as if to say, "Take them, they're
yours . "
Noah stretched o u t h i s hand but couldn't reach them. A little
more, a little more-but still he could not reach them.
His eyes sparkled. He took one leap and fell into a warm, inky
bath, the sweltering darkness of the lower level. A kick at the
door-and he was outside. Again he ascended-to the top of the
stable's roof. Another leap and he was inside the orchard itself.
All the ascents and descents lasted no longer than the twinkling of
an eye. The bushes in the orchard awoke from their slumber and shot
sparks in the moonlight. In the shadows of the trees, Marinka and her
Behind the fence 131

dog appeared like a vision of the night. The shack swallowed the two
neighbors' children. At the door Shakoripin stood guard.

11

And so did Noah get up one night and elope with Marinka ?
You do not understand the mind of an inhabitant of the lumber
quarter! On the Sabbath of Hanukah, Noah married a proper vir­
gin, the daughter of a tax collector. The marriage was arranged by a
marriage broker, with a bupah and religious vows. On Shavuot he
and his new bride came to his parents' home in the lumber quarter
amid great joy. After the dairy meal, 17 the young couple sat alone on
a beam that lay behind the house. At that very moment Marinka
stood peering through a crack, with the baby in her arms behind the
fence.

1 7Traditionally eaten on the holiday.

 3
Big Harry

cn ialik submitted Aryeh Baal Guf (Big Harry) to Asher

Ginsburg, better known by his pseudonym Af,lad Ha-am, the
editor of Ha-Shiloaf,l, in 1 8 9 8 . In his cover letter, he stated that
" the main character of this sketch is a certain baa/ guf This is
the nickname bestowed by the masses of Volhynia (southwest­
ern Russia) upon every vulgar ignora mus who had become
wealthy and yet remained brutish. " " Big Harry" despises the
"soft" gentry of his town and despairs of ever being admitted
into their circle. His wife, however, avidly strives to attain the
status of a " fine lady" and entices him to erect an elegant home
and invite the town's leading citizens to a sumptuous house­
warming party. Their attempt at social climbing ends in a dis­
mal failure. The couple becomes an object of derision to both
rich and poor. Bialik explains to Ahad Ha-am that the baa/ guf
is a stock comic character in the lore of the backward towns of
Volhynia, replacing the "tax farmer" of former generations as
the butt of laughter. " He has not yet," he averred, been "ade­
quately depicted in our literature."
Bialik aptly referred to the work as a "sketch " rather than a
story. Harry, his wife, his sons, and the rest of its characters are
" flat." They remain unchanged throughout the narrative. On
the other hand, Bialik's keen descriptive powers and his sense
of the grotesque are remarkable. He shows an uncanny ability
to transform Harry's folksy Yiddish vulgarisms i nto Hebrew,
despite the fact that Hebrew was not yet a spoken language. In

133
1 34 Big Harry

his letter to A�ad Ha-am, he expressed his disdain for the nou­
veaux riches and his regret that they had displaced the old
learned and dignified " fine Jews" who once led the Jewish
communities. However, the artist in him conveyed a certain ad­
miration for the earthiness and pragmatism of this new type in
contrast to the "soft" spirituality and subservience of its prede­
cessors.
The paragraphs describing the housewarming, with its over­
laden tables, the crude gluttony of the guests, the "tragedy" of
the sagging pudding, are hilarious. So, too, is Bialik's handling
of the battle between Harry and his sons and Alter " Cockerel "
over a customer, and the native cunning o f Mitra, the gentile
peasant, haggling with the rivals over the price of his wagon­
load of timber.
Bialik was in his mid-twenties when he wrote Big Harry. He
was influenced by the social satirists who portrayed the life of
the ordinary Russian rural folk ( Gogo! and Goncharov, for ex­
ample) . Some critics even discern the influence of Balzac's Pere
Goriot, a novel that Bialik might have read in a Russian trans­
lation. It is more likely that his literary mentors were Mendele
Macher Sefarim and Peretz Smolenskin. But in his masterful
Hebrew, his tight structure, his deft symbolism, and above all
his ironic humor, he surpasses the Yiddish and Hebrew writers
of his period. (We should also note that Shalom Aleichem's
Tevyeh had not yet been fully developed at this stage.)
The social milieu of the story is the world of the Jewish lum­
ber dealers of the timber district of Zhitomir, in which Bialik
was raised. It has been suggested that Harry's disordered lum­
beryard, with its tiered wood piles, serves as a symbol for the
degeneration of Russian Jewish life at the close of the nine­
teenth century. The older, sturdy, heavy lumber in the tiered
piles is buried under lighter and cheaper wood . When the
heavy beams are excavated from beneath the poorer timber,
however, they have been eaten away by rot. The house that
Harry erects is built of these rotten beams. Other symbols of
degeneration are the two beautiful apples that Harry proudly
stores as showpieces, the contrast between the plebeian flutes
that his sons play and the aristocratic strains of the violins of
the sons of the " i mportant" citizens. They underline the nega­
tive attitude toward the contemporary Jewish leaders that our
Big Harry 1 35

author conveys. Bialik's co-option of the biblical language de­

scribing King Solomon's construction of the Temple of Jeru­
salem and the great banquet he held after its dedication to car­
icature the erection of Ha rry's rickety mansion and the
plebeian meal is irony at its best.
Yet the celebration of the earthy, this worldly, Harry and his
sons is not entirely one-sided. The artist in Bialik seems to rel­
ish the vitality of the new " folk type," as if to declare that in
the age that was about to dawn, Jewry might be better off with
a little more brawn and less brains.
 1

Early each morning as soon as sunlight sparkles on his window, Big

Harry, " the goat," springs straight out of bed, clad only in white
underpants and a shirt-and goes at once to the stable in his yard
to visit his chestnut stallion.
He makes his way through the yard, which is piled up with
wooden beams, great heaps of logs, stacks of wood, and all kinds
of forest produce-Harry's trade-opens the stable door, and goes
inside.
In the stable, to the right of the entrance, hidden i n shade on a
spread of hay, straw, and mingled dung, a chestnut stallion stands
motionless like a dead, frozen corpse, its redness swal lowed in
black shadow, tethered to its crib. His little ears are folded, and he
appears to be dozing or sunk in thought. Above his head a black
raven hangs in the air, condemned to death by strangulation and
attached to the ceiling with a fine cord to ward off evil spirits that
afflict and weary horses during the night or tangle up or twist their
manes.
Harry approaches the horse, laying his thick strong palm on its
neck, at the same time saying, " Get up, Chestnut ! " The stallion
gives a start and retreats, ears erect and eyelids fluttering. But
Harry rebukes him gently, saying: " Get up, rascal! Don't be afraid,
for I am with you ! " After which he takes hold of the horse's mane a
second time, patting its full stomach, examining the crib to see
whether the fodder has been eaten, and deriving great pleasure
from the sight of the horse's belly, which has grown round and
swollen during the night.
After passing his hand over all the horse's l imbs, its ribs, its
spine, and even its tail-he loosens the tether from the crib, takes
the bucket from a peg fastened into the wall, and leads the horse to
the well in his yard to water it.
And while the horse drinks from the bucket held sla nting in
Harry's hand-the latter stands whistling shrilly through his lips so
that it may drink with relish. What the horse leaves over, he uses to
swill his hands and face in morning a blutions, for it is acknowl-

1 36
Big Harry U7

edged that such leftovers are good for the body. And as he turns his
forelock under the cold jet, two reddish rings arc exposed on the
flesh of his neck-the traces of surgeons' cups: it is Harry's custom
to let blood on the evening before the new moon, as that clears, in
his own words, any impu rity from the blood, and it is good for
headaches.
The strong, thickset frame, with its iron sinews and bronze limbs
and its full ruddy face-so that even though he has already reached
the age of fifty, he is as strong as a thi rty-year-old-returns wet and
cold with manly stride, he and the horse with him, to the stable, and
at every step his full, strong cheekbones move and shake.
Having returned the horse to its place, Harry turns to the cow­
shed, to see whether his cow has already gone to pasture in the
meadow with the sheep. He then turns to the timber shed to make
sure it hasn't been broken into d uring the night by one of his many
neighbors, all of whom are suspect in his eyes of steali ng wood .
While walking, he casts a glance at all the piles of planks near the
fence of his yard to see whether the marks, which he is accustomed
to put in the evenings before going to bed, again because of fear of
theft, are still i n place. And only once his mind is satisfied by this in­
spection does he return to his house to waken his wife, Hannah, and
his three sons and to finish dressing.
Clad in black clothes made of strong coarse fabric, which he fa­
vors, Harry soon leaves his house again, unlocks the gates of his
yard facing the quiet street still sunk i n slumber, and as he opens it
he mutters his usual mantra i n the vernacular whose meaning is,
" Let every merchant, seller, and buyer-turn in here," and while do­
ing so he indicates with his hand the " plai n " in his yard ( thus the
wood merchants call the enclosures and fenced yards for forest pro­
duce and building wood), and his intention is, " Here, here, that is,
to me, to Harry Goat, bring all the customers in the world, 0 Father
in heaven! "
Whereupon Harry turns this way and that-and i s content: all the
other yards and enclosures are still shut, and he is the first of them
all. The squeal of the gates of his yard was the first to disturb the si­
lence of the street " because they are all hoity-toity Jews, pampered,
so to speak, or simply lazy sleep lovers. But he is not lazy, thank
God, and as people say-the early bird catches the worm. But why
are his sons so late in coming into the yard ? "
138 Big Harry

Harry comes back to the window of his sons' bedroom, taps on it

noisily, and cries: "Shefil, Zelig, Moshe! Aren't you dressed yet? I'll
be after you, you dogs! Hurry on out ! " And only after that does
Harry return-if it is not a market day-to his house to drink tea.
To this task-that is, the task of drinking tea-Harry applies him­
self only after taking off his coat and rolling up his shirtsleeves­
only then does he sit down at table and cry, " Hannah, bring the
samovar!"
A round, pot-bellied samovar, boiling and steaming, is set on the
table right opposite Harry, who applies himself to the act of drink­
ing deliberately, seriously, and with intent. Every single gulp makes
a noticeable impression on the glass. And thus he drinks and emp­
ties glass after glass-and he does not move until he is bathed in
sweat.
Once he is sweating, he puts on his coat and stands up to pray.
And since Harry is "a simple man"-he does not make long suppli­
cations with his Maker and his prayer is brief: winding,l kissing,
spitting-"Hannah! Bring the food! "
Once finished with the act o f breakfast, composed o f a mixture of
sliced radish and onions-in which exercise all Harry's features are
engaged like a mill working with all its wheels-his mind is at ease
and he feels a need to go out to the gate of his yard to belch because
of the radish and to yawn because of the idle chatter of a group of
cart-drivers who have already begun to congregate near his property.

That solid, rugged body going out to stand at the gate of his yard
facing the street-looked from afar, in its fullness and strength, in its
form hewn from one block, a complete stone without lumps or hol­
lows and without ups and downs and chiseled bones, like an oak
that, even if all the winds in the world were to blow upon it, could
not be moved from its place.
That body had not experienced the plagues and ailments of
mankind. It had never been stricken with pain or suffered illness.

IThe straps of the phylactery are wound around the arm during the morning
prayer.
Big Harry

And even the pestilence that twice already has raged through the
street and reaped a rich ha rvest-even that axman had not assailed
this tree. It would appear that even the destroying angel drew back
in the face of flesh and blood like this and skipped over him, j ust as
the inhabitants of the street who were not on good terms with him
drew back in fear when they passed within four feet of him, al­
though he himself never used his strength to evil purpose except by
way of sport and mockery, when the opportunity presented itself.
Harry was aware of this and rega rded it as a virtue. A feeling that
derived from a kind of confidence in his strength and the power of
his arm always came over him when he saw fear descending on folk
and the praise of his valor ringing in every mouth, even though he
was well aware that the measure of his strength was constantly ex­
aggerated, and that the praise was out of all proportion when peo­
ple related tall stories of his prowess and the remarkable deeds that
he had never done. These were mere butterflies released by Harry
himself for people's amazement.
A similar feeling arose with respect to his wealth, which was also
vastly overrated, because of Harry himself. But although we may
cast doubt on the exaggerations, nevertheless, we are forced to admit
that Harry is a " Big Man , " not merely literally but also metaphori­
cally: a man whose position is sure and who stands " fullsquare" on
the ground, the owner of wealth and property, with wads of ready
cash wrapped up and stuffed in his pocket and his strongbox.
Harry's main occupations are his lumberyard and collecting the
large interest from small long-standing loans that he had made to
poor katsaps who came from faraway places to settle on holdings
surrounding the town. Through Harry's kindness they did, indeed,
succeed in getting a foothold on the ground, except that they be­
came his bondsmen with respect both to their labor and their
wealth, providing a tithe for him, while he became a partner in all
their activities to the present day. Once a week Harry would go out
in his cart drawn by the chestnut to do the rounds of "the katsaps'
quarter, " his cucumber beds and fields of gourds, exacting taxes,
whether willingly or unwillingly, from his bondsmen: in produce of
the ground, like beans, cucumbers, gourds, and other vegetables or
from living things such as hens, ducks, and a one-day-old calf, and
he would not spurn living produce such as eggs or milk. At the same
time a little cash might be collected or added to the account. All of
1 40 Big Harry

this by virtue of the interest on the original loans charged to them.

Harry set off with an empty cart, returning home at evening with his
wagon full to the brim, loaded down with the good things of the
katsaps' quarter and the fruits of the earth.
Such are his main occupations, but the major source of his wealth
comes from his landed estates and his " bundles " of money.
" Bundles"-that is Harry's favorite word, constantly on his tongue.
"If there are no bundles "-Harry would say and pat the full and
bulging pocket of his trousers to indicate the meaning of the word­
" if there are no bundles, there is nothing; and if there are bundles,
there is everything. The beginning of everything and the end of
everything are bundles."
And the bundles are most comforting when they lie in his pocket
next to his flesh; for that reason Harry was never inclined to deposit
his bundles in a bank or turn them into bonds or income-bearing
shares. He doesn't trust them, j ust as he doesn't trust other newfan­
gled inventions of the present time, such as the telegraph, for exam­
ple, even though he is not averse to using them in case of need.
" Banks shmanks, shares shmares "-Harry used to say-"all
those fancy ideas are only trickery and cheating of those hoity-toity
types, good-for-nothings and pigeon fanciers, who have nothing in
the world except pi-pu-pa ( Harry would wave his hand in the air, to
indicate the meaning of pi-pu-pa), here today and gone tomorrow
to the fair at Irkurtsk, singing 'A Soldier's Farewell.' . . . I wouldn't
give you a penny for all their shares! They're only fit for wrappers
on jars ! But cash-that's a different matter entirely. "
For this reason-for fear of trickery and cheating-Harry keeps
well away from any even slightly complex deals that are based on
suppositions and conjectures and complicated calculations beyond
his grasp. Harry likes solid profit that is obvious and immediate, but
if anyone proposes to him "pie in the sky," stuff and nonsense-No!
Harry is not the man to be seduced.
In real estate he has the large fenced area for living and for busi­
ness, with the house facing the street; storage sheds, barns, and sta­
bles, nestling among heaps of planks and tall piles of timber heaped
on top of each other without order; apart from which he has a la rge
stone house in one of the town's marketplaces, which came into his
possession from the property of a certain gentleman that was pub­
licly auctioned hy his many creditors, including Harry; a large gar­
den in the outskirts of the town, which he also took from what was
Big Harry 141

owed him by one o f the katsaps, a well-known drunkard, whom

Harry had helped in time of need and lent a certain sum at unlim­
ited interest. In addition he owned open spaces, uncultivated land
acquired from various peasa nt fa rmers in the town's allotments,
which since coming into his possession have remained fallow and
uncultivated, lying under thorns and thistles, as pasture for oxen
and horses. And if we add on to all this the cucumber and gourd
patches and various kinds of vegeta bles of the "suburb" from which
produce Harry takes a portion as a full partner on account of the in­
terest-a ll this indeed gives Harry the right to be called the " Big
Man," a term they use in this region for a coarse man who achieves
wealth while remaining common and without refinement.

They call him " Goat" not because that is his surname but because
it is impossible to be a resident of the town N. without a sobriquet
or a nickname. Whenever a person comes to live there, the towns­
folk at once apply a nickname to him derived from some personal
or family dishonor, and this nickname is firmly attached to him un­
til the end of time. If in other towns they are less particular about
names and borrow nicknames from the whole range of creation
and the natural world, in the town of N. they derive most of their
nicknames from the animal k ingdom: Alter Adder, Reuben-Hirsh
Panther, Akiba Virgin, Shalom Turkey. And every nickname, of
course, has its special reason, after those who impose the names
have made a thorough and careful investigation of some shameful
characteristic of the recipient or in the affairs of his family. Here
too " Harry Goat"-because his father, may he rest in peace, an ig­
norant old tax farmer of the kind found in the previous generation,
had throughout his life the lease on the " community goat" from
the squire, and all who possessed nanny goats were dependent on
him, obtaining his favor for a fixed sum. The father bequeathed
this nickname to all his offspring, and the " Goat" family has not
vanished until this day; and Harry Goat is among its most promi­
nent members.
Of all Harry's possessions, he derives particular pleasure from the
above-mentioned stone house and garden in the town square. "I am
j ust going down to my property, " or " I am j ust going to tour my es-
1 42 Big Harry

tate"-Harry would reply, while perched on his little wagon har­

nessed to the chestnut, to anyone who met him in the market who
might ask him in Jewish fashion, "Where have you come from and
where are you going, Mr. Harry ? " To hear him talk, the garden was
unique and without compare i n the district, a full day's walk, with
many trees and choice fruits whose taste and smell excel all other
fruits in the world; and the garden yields produce valued at five
thousand a year.
" Have you seen the autumn fruits on my estate? "-Harry would
boast about the fruit of his garden. "Alas, fool, haven't you seen
them! If so, you have never in your life seen autumn apples. Do you
think that they are ordinary apples, apples like all the other apples
in the world?-Of course not, you big fool ! Apples like my apples
are not to be found even in the district governor's garden . . . . Do
you know what gourds look like?-That's the size of my apples.
Every apple-like an Egyptian gourd. And from a distance, you big
fool, they look like gourds hanging on a tree and peeking out from
between the leaves. Come and I will show you, idiot, so that you
won't say that Harry has deceived you. "-And with that he would
haul the doubter after him to his house and show him two very
large coarse apples, admittedly excellent of their kind, and he would
go on recounting their praise and exaggerating their taste, appear­
ance, and scent. And even though it eventually came to light that
these two apples " had not grown on Harry's patch," but had come
from the garden of the squire Lampidritski, to whom Harry had
made a loan-nevertheless this revelation did not darken Harry's
face at all; time after time he would lead those of little faith to the
two apples, to prove his words and to show quite clearly the size of
his apples and " don't say that Harry fooled you ! "
These two apples lay rolling around Harry's cupboard until they
grew rotten and moldy and nobody could abide their smell. One
Sabbath eve the apples infuriated Hannah, Harry's wife, a stout,
pot-bellied woman whose face, nose, and eyes were always aglow­
because of her fondness for "mother's ruin"l._and to avoid her hus­
band's wrath by impugning his apples' dignity, she approached him
cautiously as though seeking advice on the matter: "What do you
think, Harry? It seems as though the apples have gone off a little,
and they are beginning to stink . . . . I'm worried about them. Harry!

lGin.
IJig Harry 1 4.1

Harry, why are you silent? "-"Do they stink? If so stew them into a
tsimes "-Ha rry answered her briefly. Hannah set to and stewed
them-a nd that was the end of the apples!
Both his strength and his wealth, the two qualities of which he
was most proud, Harry tried to exaggerate and maxim ize in front of
people with imagined anecdotes and ta ll stories, all of which fol­
lowed the same pattern. On one occasion three thieves who had cast
their eyes on his chestnut and were planning to acquire it for noth­
ing broke into his stable at night. And he, Harry, happened to go
outside by sheer chance, or to the privy, clad in nothing but his un­
derpants and a shirt. He looked and listened, stole up qu ietly, and
ambushed them, grabbing two at once by their forelocks and crack­
ing their heads together, while he felled the third to the ground with
a deft kick, and he tied them up, put them in his cart, and brought
them to the police station. Or something like this: there was an inci­
dent with five drunken yokels who challenged him to a fight, and he
grabbed one by the legs and waved him like a stick, beating the oth­
ers with him u ntil they passed out. His stories a bout his wealth
would start with a count or a general who had borrowed five thou­
sand or twenty thousand rubles from him. And sometimes Harry
would combine his strength and his money together: beginning with
"a count who borrowed and didn't pay" and ending with a n
"episode" : o n one occasion h e came t o the count's house t o demand
his " bundles, " and there was no one in the house except the count;
Harry took him by the throat and said to him: "If you give me my
money-good! And if not-you are a dead man ! "
Harry used to relate stories o f this kind i n the company o f the
workers in the timber yards and the council of the h ired cart­
drivers, with their ramshackle carts and scabby horses i n the wood
merchants' street, who were available to fetch and carry timber for
anyone who required it. They would congregate near Harry to listen
to his pleasant anecdotes. If following his stories and his verbal evi­
dence, there might still remain some skeptic-Harry would remove
all doubt with irrefutable proof: he would stretch out two fingers,
the thumb and the index finger like a pair of tongs, take hold of the
skeptic's neck, and shake it until it wobbled to and fro like a reed,
and while doing so he would say: "So answer me, go on, answer me,
you little son of a flea, who is the greatest? You or me ? "
"Mr. Harry! Mr. Harry! "-the youth admits unwillingly, strug­
gling to get out of the vise that is squeezing him.
1 44 Big Harry

"Who's the strongest, who's the mightiest? "-Harry repeats and

continues squeezing the neck of his partially conceding victim,
writhing in his grip like a fish, with face turned crimson.
" Mr. Harry! Mr. Harry ! " the skeptic groans aloud, subdued by
the sharpness of the pain. " In that case run along, run along to your
hole, dog, and don't raise your voice in front of your betters"-Mr.
Harry would end his reproach and let him go.
"And where are you off to ? "-Harry turns again on another cart­
driver, who is backing away. "Just come here and let me touch you,
my son. Don't be afraid, you big fool ! Don't worry, I'm only going
to put you on one nail and crush you with the other-like that-and
you're a goner! . . . " And Harry clearly demonstrates with two fin­
gernails the fate of a flea condemned to death by squashing, which
reduces all the wagon-drivers to laughter.
And of course all this is only done good-humoredly and in jest.
Both wagoner and Harry are merely intent on the amusement of the
whole company. To those who doubt his wealth, Harry gives a short
answer: he would rise up and outline the mound in his trouser
pocket, pat it, and say, " Here's the bundles! "-and they were si­
lenced immediately.
Pouring out intestines, breaking l imbs, n ipping off the head,
smashing the skull, and ripping up the belly-these were the salt
and pepper with which Harry spiced his conversations, as though he
were lecturing on surgery. When a quarrel among the cart-drivers
was brought to him, as happened ten times a day, he would advise
one of them to pour out the small intestines of the other, and the
second-to nip off the leprous head of the first or tear out his
measly gullet-and everything would end peacefully. And for that
reason the wagon-drivers respected him and made him their regular
judge and referee to resolve all their many quarrels.

Truth to tell, Harry only spoke about these things " for embellish­
ment" ; and indeed he was not prone to use his strength; whether be­
cause the hot blood of youth had already calmed down, or because
at fifty years old, it was beneath his dignity-in any case, few people
were privileged to see him strike, spill intestines, or tear out people's
bellies. Such activity was mainly left to his sons.
Big Harry 1 45

In his youth, however, Harry had schooled himself and become

practiced in all these arts in the " katsaps' quarter. " Even in childhood
certain tendencies had sprouted that were no credit to a Jewish boy.
As an infant he had fled the �eder; a foolish child, coarse and dull­
witted, disinclined to listen to the Bible lesson; a wild unruly youth,
kicking his teachers, and a young man straying along wicked paths­
to the katsaps' quarter, to become a crony of their young men and be
like one of them. From his early days the katsaps' children attracted
him with their special character, their powerful faces, and their strong
necks, and even their clothing and their gait appealed to him, and,
needless to say, their flowing forelocks, and their caps pushed back on
their heads and a little to one side-were not all these the marks of
" regular guys " ? And from the moment he noticed such things, he
tried to be like them in all their habits: he grew his forelock and tilted
his cap like them, adopted their stance, which was at once bold and
relaxed, cracked seeds like them nonchalantly and without effort,
whistled softly between his teeth like them and at the same time
twitching one leg, and also assuming a certain hauteur, an hauteur
that announced to everyone, "Anyone who gets too close has had it! "
. . . Nor was Harry satisfied until he had managed to acquire a black
coat narrow at the top and wide at the bottom, in the fashion favored
by the katsaps' sons. And from that time, he was accepted as a wel­
come guest among the " regular guys" and took part in all their
youthful pranks, imitating all their ways and customs and becoming
their crony. At night he slept with them in the meadow near the graz­
i ng horses, and by day he practiced galloping on horseback and
learned how to " spill intestines . " As time went by, Harry grew up and
took a wife, " his Hannah," but he still consorted with the katsaps,
who had also grown into adulthood. He knew their activity and their
repose, their comings and goings, did business with them, mainly
shady business. That was when the night journeys began . . . taking
horses from place to place . . . mottled horses went out, and piebald
horses came back. . . . But all that happened long ago, and from the
time that Harry acquired his " bundles " and had sons and daugh­
ters-he settled down and gave all that up; and of the deeds of his
youth all that remained were the memories of the past, on which he
built whole volumes of tall stories and exaggerations, and an abstract,
platonic love for horses and everything connected with them: for
horse-dealers and horse-breeders, for cart-drivers and gypsies, and for
talk about horses. Ten times a week Harry would exchange his horse,
1 46 Big Harry

which never left his stable for another horse: today a mottled for a
piebald, and tomorrow a piebald for a chestnut, and so on. And all
this not for any profit or gain, but for love of horses, and simply to
take part in his favorite pastime. But all this was only a remnant of
the days of his youth, whereas all the rest he had given over to his
sons, who had also become adults.
Harry had acquired his " bundles," not, as you might think, by
means of those shady dealings, horse transports, and night journeys
from the early days-Not at all! Harry had become rich by means of
. . . a handshake from the Tsaddik of K. It was Harry's wife who had
brought it about. He had suddenly gone off her and was planning to
divorce her after some fifteen years of domestic peace; but she had re­
fused a divorce and had gone to enlist the help of the Rebbe. And the
Rebbe, for the sake of peace, promised Harry to put a blessing on his
house for his wife's sake; but Harry, a "simple man," interrupted his
words and asked improperly: " Rebbe! How can I know that the
Rebbe's word will come about? Will the Rebbe shake hands on it?"
And the Rebbe-listen and learn-agreed and gave him a handshake!
Or so the more credulous inhabitants of Wood Street relate. And
Harry, who is anxious that his luck shall not deteriorate and that the
evil eye will not have power over him, refrains from announcing it
openly, lest any rash utterance undermine the power of the hand­
shake . . . . But secretly he is delighted with this story, which is current
among people, most of whom regard him with hostility; so that "all
those lepers" may know that Harry has someone to rely on, and may
their gall burst. In order to strengthen this belief, Harry shrewdly
hints about it at times, and when he is openly announcing that he ac­
quired all his power and riches only by his "ten fingers," he immedi­
ately adds: and "by virtue of the Rebbe." Not so Hannah, his wife,
on account of whom the handshake came about and for which reason
she became endeared to her husband-she mentions this virtue ten
times a day, and on each occasion she raises her bloodshot oval eyes
toward heaven, rubs her hand on the wall, and says, "May God be
blessed first, and afterwards the Reb be. " . . .

Once Harry had acq uired his " bundles," he didn't put on airs or
seek the honor of "the big shots " or the self-importance of "the
Big Harry 147

upper-class Jews"-and he remained the same Ha rry as before. The

same companions, the same conversations and coarse remarks, the
same behavior at home and in the street as before, except that he as­
sumed a garb more in keeping and suitable for his years. He was the
same Ha rry, a "regular guy," a disciple of the "quarter"-but an old
"regular guy. " The trappings of his house, the food on his table, and
the manner of his clothing had not changed in any noticeable way.
Not like those big shots, whose wealth endows them with other
virtues and perfections, and since they have acquired wealth, they
also suddenly become refined, learned, sages, sweet-voiced, and ar­
biters of taste; and even the sole of their foot suddenly shrinks and is
easily shod in a small light shoe, whereas previously, in their days of
obscurity, it could only be squeezed with great difficulty into a big
coarse shoe. Harry could not find within himself the talent, the de­
sire, the need, or the ability to escape from the confines of his com­
monness into the realm of the u pper-class Jews. And so he en­
trenched himself within his limitations and was satisfied with the
name " Big Man. " This name fulfilled all his need and desire for
honor, and he willingly renounced the name of " big shot, " with its
connotation both of importance and standing. Indeed, had he been
asked, he would now have chosen the name " moneybags," which
exactly projected the concept he preferred " Harry Moneybags"­
What a lovely name! It was enough for him that "all those lepers"
were aware of the many bundles lying in his bag, and as for every­
thing else-sheer vanity. And of course Harry feels no obligation to
behave "a Ia big shot" and to be punctilious with respect to "airs
and graces" and the manners about which the upper-class Jews were
scrupulous. He leaves all of that to them, the upper-class Jews, to in­
dulge in at their house of study, and he gives it all a wide berth. In
the first place, because it all "costs money. " The importance and
honor attached to the name " big shot" are not acquired for nothing.
And second, all those " airs and graces" are foreign to his nature and
detract from his joy of life. He does not want to put his thick neck
in such a heavy yoke.
Ever since Harry gave up all hope of leaving his domain and join­
ing the " top stratum," he conceived a great hostility to everything
bearing the stamp of being spoiled, pampered, aristocratic, or spiri­
tual. Not only the thin face of the slight, dried-up teacher, the
"cylinders " (this is what Harry calls the side-locks curled like hol­
low tubes) of the portly ritual slaughterer, and the oval eyes of the
148 Big Harry

weepy cantor-roused his wrath to the point of frenzy, but all kinds
of important people and upper-class Jews were anathema to him
and his natural enemies, because they were unlike him . . . and he,
Harry, had no regrets and was not at all afraid of the scorn of the
proud and the mockery of the big shots; that resulted only from
their envy of his wealth. For h i s wealth was soli d and durable,
proper wealth based on holdings and estates, whereas their
wealth-was all imagined and fly-by-night, " pi-pu-pa," which could
disappear as quickly as it came.
In his conversations with the carters, he allowed no householder,
whether respectable or not, to escape the lash of his tongue, but
pointed out his shortcomings for mockery and scorn . Harry at­
tached a nickname to each one in accordance with "his weakness"
and any failing. In particular he displayed this art when he reached
the name of any man who, at some time or other, had had financial
dealings with him. " Reb Aaron Wild Ox"-he is " unspeakable";
" Hayyim Hirsh Leviathan-a bad lot; Jacob Nissan Intestine-a
leech who lays four pairs of tefillin; Berish Cock-dyed in the same
wool; ltzi Gizzard-a thief and as cunning as a bastard. " In this
way Harry would recount the praises of all the upper-class Jews in
his neighborhood. And we must admit, to his credit, that he was en­
dowed with a keen understanding and an insight that enabled him
to pounce upon the slightest weakness in his adversaries and to use
it for amusing conversation spiced with popular adages and coarse
expressions to the delight of the servants and carters, who thirstily
drank his words and endeavored to " loosen his tongue" with their
questions.
" And what do you think, Mr. Harry, about Reb Baruch Panther? "
asks a clever and jaunty carter who i s o n good terms with the " Big
Man. " " Reb Baruch Bar-Bar-Is! "-Harry repeats the name in
derogatory fashion, drawing it out in a tone of surprise-"Reb
Baruch Bar-Bar-Baris ? ! ! "-and at once he quietly continues­
"Gentlemen, don't do business with Reb Baruch Panther. He really
is an upper-class Jew. He is not a simple thief, but he thieves by
" bookkeeping." . . . If you don't know-let me tell you. Do you re­
member the forest that I had in partnership with him? The " bun­
dles" for its purchase and development I supplied, and when we
came to dividing the profit-1 see one Thursday at d usk a cart
standing in front of my house and Reb Baruch climbs off it. I
thought that he was bringing me the " bundles," and I said to my-
Big Harry 149

self, " You Godsend ! " And then I see Reb Baruch un loading from
the cart-not bundles but-account books! One account book, a
second, a third-fifteen " pieces" ! All of them as thick and heavy as
pigs. "Reb Baruch ! " I ask, " where are you taking these ? What is all
this for ? "-" I'm carrying the bookkeeping! "-"Very good ! Bring
the bookkeeping. " The bookkeeping is placed on the ta ble, and I
still don't get the main idea. "And where are the bundles ? " I ask­
"Here ! " Reb Baruch points his finger to the thickest of the account
books. I open it, examine it, and stil l I see nothing. "I see nothing,
Reb Baruch, I see nothing! "-" Look there! " Reb Baruch replies and
turns over the page. I look and I look and I can't see anything, there
is nothing except square letters and ruled lines with " fly drop­
pings"-"There's nothing here, Reb Baruch ! " I say-"Look here! "
Reb Baruch answers and turns a few pages back. Come, let me see
what is lying there between the square letters-"Hannah ! Give me
my spectacles ! " I put on my spectacles and say to Reb Baruch :
" Read! " and Reb Baruch takes it and reads: " Fodder-seventeen
rubles and thirty-seven and a half kopeks." Good! What's written
further on ? " Oats-thirty-seven ru bles, seventeen kopeks and a
quarter. "-Very good! Further!-" Horse-so and so; cart-such
and such"; and so on: " horse-fodder-fodder-horse" to the end.
That was the bookkeeping; and bundles-nothing to this day ! "
" And Reb Mendel, how d o you regard h im ? " the carter asks fur­
ther. "I won't say a word against Reb Mendel. Reb Mendel stays
on at the study house after prayers and chews hok,3 and when in
the course of study he utters a syllable-his voice comes out of his
yellow beard and sounds like my red cow mooing. Do you know
what the hok is, Berele ? "-Harry suddenly asks the nearest carter
as an aside-" You don't know, donkey? Then ask me and I will
tell you. The hok-is a sort of book that is found in the bag con­
taining the prayer shawl and tefillin of upper-class Jews, and they
study it a fter the " A l e i n u " prayer-a sort of " prayer dessert. "
. . . Now Reb Mendel i s a n upper-class Jew only since yesterday or
the day before. And this happened from the day he took the pos­
sessions of a wretched widow and her little orphaned children and
left them destitute; and since the day he went bankrupt in Leipzig
. . . he has also attached a silver crown to the top of his prayer
shawl, the dog! "

3An a nthology of pious writings by the sixteenth-century Kabba list, Isaac Lurie.
! 50 Big Harry

"Oh, fools, fools! "-Harry used to conclude his scorn and mock­
ery. "Do you not know that we are all flesh and not God, and that
man is motivated only by the " kopek" . . . and what will be there
. . . there in the upper world-only our Father in heaven knows.
And what are we ? " Harry used to hold forth with mocking sermons
of this kind after the midday meal, while sitting on the stone bench
in front of the gate of his yard, surrounded by carters and humble
and impoverished wood merchants, among whom he would walk
and converse as friend and brother, without any self­
aggrandizement or snobbish ways-j ust like one of the gang. And
they too approved of his modesty, intent on penetrating his mean­
ing, and assuming an air of naive belief in all his tall stories about
horses and katsaps, counts, and generals awaiting his loans, and
about the robbers upon whom he inflicted broken limbs five at a
time. They listened with awe and affection to his speculations about
what "will be there" at the conclusion of his conversations. And
once Harry had reached the theme of death, he immediately
changed his tone and lightheartedness, as though contrition had en­
tered h is heart from the sin he had committed with his lips . . . and
with his particular humility and modesty, he proceeded to expound
his views about that whole topic. In his own fashion he began to
denigrate all the life of this world, which was not worth even a "rot­
ten egg." "Death is the final end and the last game, you big fool!"­
Harry would humbly conclude. " Yesterday-him, today-you, and
tomorrow-me. Everyone goes to the one place and they will un­
cover the bottom of our shirts, naked to the neck . . . . Lie down, im­
portant sir, and don't turn on your side ! " And the carters would
sigh and fall silent for some considerable time.

Humility in general was one of Harry's qualities. He was always the

first to say, " Good morning," even to a gentile in the marketplace;
he was not ashamed to thrust his hand into the dirty pocket of some
carter or peasant and bring out a handful of squashed tobacco
leaves for a smoke; nor was he ashamed, when the opportunity
arose, to engage in a trial of " strength" with one of the peasants in
the marketplace and wrestle with him in front of everyone, and af­
terwards to repair with the vanqu ished to the nearby inn to drink at
Rig Harry ISI

the bar a "victory glass" paid for by the peasant. In short, Harry is
extremely modest and hum ble. But apart from that overall modesty,
he also displays another kind of modesty, found particularly in peo­
ple like him, one whose essence springs from fear and crude super­
stition and from nervousness about his wealth. That is what causes
him, for all his trust in his strength and riches, to have the name of
heaven constantly on his lips, and to make the mercy of the Holy
One a partner in the work of his hands-whenever the matter
touches on his money. And it is that which leads him to believe in all
kinds of superstitions: wizards, Rebbes, charms, and remedies; to
sla ughter an owl with a gold coin and bury it under the threshold­
for good luck; to watch over the polecat that lives in the basement
of his house like the apple of his eye, because it preserves his luck; to
whisper three times in the morning when he opens the gates of his
yard his usual mantra . And it is that which causes him to open his
bundles, more precious than his body, to the Rebbe of K-bi, and to
slip away at the moment when they convey a "corpse" in front of
him and the charity boxes start rattling . . . . Some kind of base fear
and great terror comes over him, when he sees Satan dancing nearby
and God's judgment stretched out at his side. Then Harry suddenly
undergoes a great change, so that no one would recognize him.
Harry Goat, like other men of low birth snatched by fate from the
gutter and raised by good luck a bove their station, is sometimes ter­
rified by the threat of some cruel and powerful force that is easily
angered and could topple him suddenly from his perch and return
him to the gutter from whence he came. And like a donkey climbing
a ladder, he would stand and tremble, lest the rung break beneath
him-and his limbs get broken . . . . And even though he had some­
thing to rely on-the well-known handshake-for a l l that, there
was reason to be anxious . . . for even a fly can do damage and don't
" haggle with God," as people say. And for that reason it was best
that you should try, first and foremost, to distance yourself well out
of sight of that mysterious power, so that he might not pay attention
to you, and pass you by and not harm your affairs. What then ? Was
he likely to forget you completely?-But even then the harm would
not be so great as long as there were bundles in your hand and you
were in possession . . . . This device cost nothing and it was H arry's
favorite. And what a sight it was to see how this great body curled
up and contracted like a hedgehog whenever it happened to be i n
the vicinity of someone who was dangerously ill, a dying person, or
152 Big Harry

an important "corpse. " Where, then, did all that solid flesh go?
Where then did " Big Man Harry" go, the hero, the self-assured, the
mocker, the swank, and the fantasist? How humble and wretched,
how soft and smooth were Harry's sayings and utterances, then,
when he was interpreting the day's events to the group of wagoners!
Harry would then speak solemnly and in low and muted tones
about all the vanity of life, which was not worth even a rotten egg;
that men were no better than animals; and of the folly of anyone
who imagines that "he is different and the verse doesn't apply to
him " ; and that wealth and money are sheer vanity and even less
than sheer vanity! But while speaking he lets fall a drop of comfort
to the despairing and brokenhearted wagoners, that God, so to
speak, does not come upon His creatures with ill intent, and He, our
Father in heaven, is merciful and compassionate. And whence does
this fellow derive such words and such a style? Just as though he
were reading from the Shevet Musar!4 And while he is still speaking,
the funeral passes by. The "corpse" is carried on a bier of planks
and poles fastened together for the occasion, as is fitting for an im­
portant "corpse " ; the people follow after him, mourning with bent
heads; the officials shake their boxes-kish, kish-charity safe­
guards against death!-and Harry who j ust now had been denigrat­
ing silver and gold as the dust of the earth begins to curl up and
shrink still further, shrinking and shrinking until he-vanishes alto­
gether . . . and at the moment when the beadle with the box passes
in front of the group of carters, who hasten to put worn-out coppers
into its slot, Harry is already lying in his cellar, or shut up in his
house, bending his ear to the sound of clinking as it recedes and di­
minishes . . . and why all this ? Only to distract God's j udgment
when it came near to him, as though to say: " Am I so important in
your eyes, that you should visit me and take me into account? Look,
I am nothing, 0 Lord of the universe, and I slink away from it all."
Since, however, negative stratagems alone are not sufficient for
rescue and protection, for there are times when Satan can find you
even in the cellar and no amount of evasions and hiding places can
avail; some positive strategy is therefore necessary and a "counter­
force, " like an offering, a prayer, or an argument against that fierce
and hidden power. Apart from the charms and incantations men-

4A popular eighteenth-century treatise on ethics.

Big Harry 1 53

tioned above, Harry Goat realized the need to employ for all emer­
gencies (may it never come to tha t ! ) some advocate or constant in­
termediary between him and the hidden power, to mollify it when
angry, to appease and bribe it in times of need: in short, a reliable
intermediary to undertake for him all the " business " between him
and heaven so that the burden could be taken from his neck com­
pletely. And for this purpose Harry found no one better than the
Rebbe of K-bi, the son of that same Tsaddik who had given him the
handshake. No sooner did he scent the slightest whiff of danger-he
would immediately harness his wagon and rush to the Rebbe, to an­
ticipate the blow. Harry maintained an absolute and utter faith in
the power of the Tsaddikim, without differentiating between one
Tsaddik and the next. And it was not because of spiritual reasons or
Hasidic lore, but because the Tsaddikim in his opinion were "crafts­
men" who are always necessary, like wizards, pardon the compari­
son, and " i f a thief is needed, take him down from the gallows," as
people say. But j ust as you have a "craftsman" who is skilled and
expert, so there is an ordinary Tsaddik and a master Tsaddik . The
latter does not perform his task dishonestly; his promises are ful­
filled. But in everything apart from their craft, Tsaddikim can be
simple folk j ust like everyone else, and they too keep a n eye cocked
on " the pennies. "
Harry chose the Rebbe o f K-bi because o f the help that h e had re­
ceived through the Rebbe's father's handshake, and he cherished the
kindness. Apart from that the Rebbe, too, was regarded as a re­
spectable "craftsman," not, of course, like his father, but in time of
need, " when there are no fish, even a crab can be called a fish," and
he would do. And even the Rebbe of K-bi's full beard must be worth
something! None of the Tsaddikim in the region had such a beard.
His beard alone was enough for him to be considered a Tsaddik .
. . . And truth to tell, Harry never stinted in rewarding the Rebbe's
heavenly intervention. And the Rebbe, too, knew the nature of his
beast and on each occasion exacted for h imself a respectable agent's
fee at whatever level he decided. In times of crisis, he would send his
collectors who did the rounds of the little towns to exact from him
something on account i n advance. With respect to the visits of these
collectors, which were always too frequent for him, Harry would
boast i n public and grieve and groan i n secret. " Leeches ! " Harry
ground his teeth in mute rage whenever he saw one of the holy
1 54 Big Harry

"messengers" approaching his house for a gift on account. And

when speaking he tried to publicize the event, saying, " Let the Jews
hear that the Rebbe sends to me and needs me"-and the collector
was brought into the house with pomp and circumstance until the
whole street was aware that " the Rebbe has sent to Harry. " In this
way Harry would groan and give, and the Rebbe would intervene
and take. But did Harry have any option ? Was he not compelled to
pay the Rebbe "a proper fee," for a physician who heals for nothing
is worth nothing. It was sufficient that the Rebbe saved him from
any confusion over the heavenly domain, including the command­
ment to give charity to " leeches" (the name he gave to all beggars
and persons asking for charity), and the fact that he discharged his
duty with gifts to the Rebbe-that too was worth money !
Moreover, "Wasn't the Rebbe also a person, and how would he l ive
if we didn't support him ? "
These latter aspects o f his gifts to the Rebbe, Harry would only dis­
close in front of others, even though everyone knew that Harry was a
"goy" in whom there was not "a single Jewish sinew," a NoahideS
who would rather be killed than spend so much as a penny, com­
pletely devoted to his pocket, without worrying at all how other folk
might live. The beggars knocking on doors on the eve of the new
moon, a charity collector, and the "officiants" of the synagogue-the
cantor and the beadle-would avoid his threshold with a stream of
curses. And any "emissary" who trod on his porch by mistake would
praise God and thank Him sincerely for allowing him to leave in one
piece. And for a whole day thereafter, his ears would tingle and his
face would turn crimson at the memory of those imprecations with
which Harry Goat had greeted him: " 0, my little Reb Tsaddik ! "­
Harry would greet the "emissary" at the door. "Out! Out! I have no
money, I have none! It's not my custom . . . Get out, my friend! "
In dire straits, when Harry could not wriggle out o f giving any­
thing, he would send the "leeches" to his wife, Hannah, from whom
the cantor and beadle would sometimes benefit, for example, on the
two memorial days for her parents, about which Hannah was very
punctilious, and for whom the beadle was enjoined to recall their
memory and light candles, and the cantor-to study Mishnah, and
recite Kaddish-for which both received five kopeks as a reward.

1A gentile.
Big Harry 155

Needless to say, Ha rry never advanced a noninterest loan as an

act of cha rity. And it is no surprise, therefore, that people would
complain to heaven and grumble about the ways of the Almighty,
saying, " It would appear that He doesn't know what to do with His
money, and that He has found no better place to invest His wealth
than here: a gold ring in a pig's ear. "
Ha rry was morta lly hated b y the humble, impoverished wood
merchants, who flattered him to his face and cursed him heartily be­
hind his back. "Have you seen this son of Esau, may his name and
memory be blotted out, how he and his 'bastards' snatch the crust
of bread from our mouths ? " The less successful merchants would
always complain about him. The latter nickname was appended to
Harry's sons. These three sons, who help their father in the wood
business by standing at the gate of his property to attract buyers, or
go out to the market to purchase timber from the farmers-are
worse than wild beasts! Woe to anyone who stumbles on them, and
even worse for anyone they stumble on. They snatch the plums from
a person's very hands, j umping in and adding two coins for the price
of the farmer's merchandise after some poor Jew has labored and
struggled to fix the right price-and get away scot-free; while others
who have tried to interfere with them in any way that might be re­
garded as the slightest trespass-or even to protect thei r own
rights-are threatened with death. Harry and his sons know of no
punishment lighter than death: "If you don't get out of here, you
putrid drop-you're a dead m a n ! " " I f you don't clear off, you
abomination-your innards will be spilt ! " Such were the threats of
Harry and his sons. And if the father's strength i s confined to
words-the sons are of the kind that put their words into practice.
And by sheer strength they go and conquer the whole market and
the best of the produce, to the great vexation of the other merchants
who reluctantly have to content themselves with the leftovers. And
how very fortunate Harry is! All the farmers are attached to him
and are like wax i n his hands. Nearly all the farmers who bring tim­
ber are his good companions and on close terms with him. Even
more than they respect his great strength and his powerful hand,
even more than they love him for his choice opinions, for his ready
tongue with all its turns of speech, and the fluent and pleasing con­
versation that amuses them and appeals to them in their own partic­
ular way--even more was Harry regarded, God knows why, as an
156 Big Harry

upright and honest man who would not defraud .or deceive anyone,
although all the virtues outlined above served him, in the words of
his rivals, only as a stratagem and a means " to extract the farmer's
soul with a kiss."
On market day the sun i s shining over the earth. All the other
wood merchants have risen before dawn and sallied out to the day's
work like lions. Even before daybreak, they have girded their loins
and walked out of town a distance of four miles to the old inn and
beyond to anticipate the tardy farmers who had delayed coming to
the wood market the previous n ight. Perhaps God would have
mercy and provide a bargain for them, favoring them with a good
deal in honor of the Sabbath. But, alas, even the farmer in this gen­
eration has become smart, because of our many sins, and under no
circumstances is he willing to listen and make a bargain on the high
road. His heart is drawn to the market. "Mr. Harry is there," a
farmer recalls and hurries along without paying heed to the capers
of this " Mendel " or " Yanke!" leaping up and down before him.
"Wait, wait j ust one minute, Ivan! " Yanke! shouts at Ivan's cart as it
proceeds forward, grabbing hold of it and dancing in front of it like
a dog, clinking coins in front of him and thrusting them toward his
bosom as the farmer draws near the inn, which is redolent with the
odor of spirits to whet his appetite. . . . " You astound me, Ivan!
You're a clever one, Ivan! Don't you recognize me, Ivan? Do it for
our old friendship, Ivan! Remember your Creator, Ivan . . . . "-In
vain! In vain !-lvan turns his face and shoulder coldly to Yanke!,
communes with himself for a while, as though wishing to say some­
thing, but regretting it at once, angrily waves his whip over his
weary horses and shouts, " Gee-up ! "
A t that very hour Harry Goat i s making his way round the area of
the big wood market, pushing himself between the tight carts and
wagons all loaded with timber, inquiring as a close friend about the
health of the old farmers next to their wagons, good-heartedly play­
ing and joking with their young ones, scratching the ear of one and
flicking the nose of another, or amusing them with some coarse jest,
and meanwhile feeling the sack lying on one cart and the basket on
another, patting the belly of one horse and examining the teeth of
another-as though timber and forest produce were the furthest
thi ngs from his mind, and he had only come to ask about their
health and chat with them a little for their amusement. Meanwhile a
gro u p of peasa nts gathers round him, and there are more inquiries
Big Harry 1 57

about health, and detailed questions about whether Petra's cow has
calved yet and whether M itra's mare has had a foal (Harry was an
expert in the overall affairs of many farmers), conversations about
the snows of yesteryear and about the coming fa ir, and meanwhile
he puts his hand into the dirty pouch of some fa rmer and takes out
fragments of tobacco and a piece of paper, rolls them into a ciga­
rette, applies a light, and smokes them; not that Harry enjoys any
such smoking: but in order to endear himself to them further by his
modesty and bring their minds into accord with his own about the
deep affection with which he regards them . . . . And meanwhile the
fountain of Harry's conversation keeps increasing, and his tongue
wags more and more. His torrent of words has already reached the
stage of anecdotes concerning Jewish customs, which he loves to ex­
pound and use for the amusement and satisfaction of the farmers in
the market. As usual, he describes and demonstrates for them in de­
tail all the customs of the Passover, the order of service for the Day
of Atonement, and the customs of the other festivals-whatever
serves to astonish the farmers and arouse their laughter. In particu­
lar he emphasizes all the customs that involve a Jew in expense, go­
ing into great detail about the preparations for the Passover, putting
money in the charity boxes on the evening of the Day of Atonement,
and the like, to let them know how difficult life and its traditions are
for a Jew, who is burdened with additional expenses and a great va­
riety of needs. "That's how it is, that's it, kind sirs," Harry used to
conclude these conversations. "Our situation is not like yours. We
are overwhelmed by commandments; our needs are greater than
yours. " With conversations of such kind Harry entices the farmers'
hearts, entices and entices-until he entices them, their wagons, and
their loads of wood into his yard. The actual purchase is always
concluded with one remark. He always targets the right moment in
the conversation, which revolves from one topic to the next-and
some ten wagons piled high with forest produce suddenly disappear
from the street with the sound of creaks and groans to be unloaded
i n Mr. Harry's yard under the strict supervision of one of his sons.

Since there is no rule without exception, fortune did not always al­
low Harry to leave the street i n peace. There were times when the
! 58 Big Harry

street caused him great trouble and sorrow and.left him with worry
and stress for many a day. A particularly unsavory example of the
sort occurred when he happened to be bargaining against Alter
Cockerel. . . . But here I must pause to inform you about the charac­
ter of this Alter Cockerel.
In standing, Alter was a middle-ranking " householder" among
the middle-ranking wood merchants. Physically he was a small man,
thin and wizened ( for that reason he was called " Cockerel"), with a
scowling face, a pointed nose, and bleary eyes flecked with numer­
ous blue veins. By temperament-he was an angry man, despised
and without respect, both choleric and melancholic at once, hating
everyone and being equally hated by everyone. Even when he was
silent, his entire little " being" was like a bottle of boiling filth, boil­
ing and boiling away . . . and when he opened his mouth-it was
only to curse and malign the whole world; while doing so he would
raise his little fist in great anger and foam at the mouth--once again
against all the world . . . . This little creature was the husband of an
Amazonian woman, strong and tall, a valiant woman famous for
her heavy fist descending on her husband's skull, and for her pickled
cucumbers of wide renown. In winter days, she would go out wear­
ing coarse yellow gum boots, which served only to increase her
stature and masculinity. The splendid pair served as father and
mother to five large sons, strong as cedars, who had inherited from
their little father his anger and bad blood, and from their big
mother their stature, sheer size, and strong hands. Confident in the
offspring of his loins and his marriage partner " Baba" (such was her
name), the little flea Alter Cockerel was in no way prepared to stand
in awe of Big Harry, Harry Goat. The encounter of two such crea­
tures was impressive, and here is a small instance of such a meeting:
Harry sees Alter standing in the market bargaining over wood be­
side the cart of a farmer who was one of Harry's closest cronies.
This impertinence was not to Harry's taste. "What's this? The
farmer-was his, and the farmer's wood-was certainly his!-and
all of a sudden this Cockerel dances into the middle and separates
them . . . . Time to shoo him away. " . . . " Kish-kish-kish ! " Harry
hisses at Alter from behind, as though shooing away a cockerel,
with the intention of riling him by alluding to his nickname.
The blue veins flecking Alter's face and nose begin to tremble; the
poison in them boils, quivers, dissolves, and ascends into his bleary
eyes, turning them red . . . . Nevertheless, he hesitates a little at boil-
Big Harry 1 59

ing point, inclining his little head toward Harry and shaking it from
side to side, looking him up and down from head to foot with an
angry gla nce and a mean expression. " Good morning, Mitra ! "
Harry turns to the farmer, as though unaware of Alter's presence
and not adm itting his existence at all. "What's happened to you,
Mitra ? Have you brought grain for the market without telling me ?
I'm surprised! Don't you know that cockerels peck and scratch on
the rubbish heaps in my yard, too, thank heaven, and they need
grain, those cockerels. But what do I see here ? My eye has deceived
me! Not grain-but planks in your cart and what have cockerels got
to do with planks? Kish-kish-kish ! ! "
That was the last straw. The point o f Alter's nose grows longer
and sharper, his eyelids narrow, as though to suck the depths of his
anger and to concentrate his wrathful villainous eyes on one focus,
to hurl poison at Harry and burn him up on the spot. . . . " Goat!
The devil take your father's father ! "-The Cockerel wanted to
screech bitterly--except that he suddenly felt chastened, remember­
ing the danger bound up with such a cry with not one of his off­
spring in the vicinity to stand in front of the Goat at the right mo­
ment . . . . This bitter thought descended like a stream of cold water
onto his boiling anger to quiet it. But so as not to stand with folded
arms in the presence of his enemy, Alter suddenly cries out bitterly,
"Harry! Harry! ! Harry ! ! ! "
I n this triple cry torn from the bottom of his raging and fearful
heart and u ttered through c lenched teeth, Alter combined the
thousands of curses and myriads of insults that crowded on the tip
of his tongue and struggled for expression-un t i l they were
crushed between h i s grinding teeth. But Harry went on stirring
him up, continuing i n his previous style: " I tell you plainly, Mitra,
it was foolish of you to b r i ng logs i nstead of m i llet to a p lace
where cockerels are to be fou n d , but s i nce you have b rought
logs-take them to Harry's yard, and you can be sure that he will
pay you a proper price; after all, I think you have known Harry
not j ust since yesterday, i s that not so, Mitra ? What are you wait­
i ng for? Come along!-and leave the matter of cockerels to me-l
will attend to them. " . . .
Alter lifted up his eyes-from whence cometh help? He sees his
sons far, far away. There at the other end, they're dancing round
other peasants and their carts. The situation is very grave!-Help is
far away, and danger close at hand.
1 60 Big Harry

For his part, the farmer is in no rush or hurry to move his cart. He
is well versed in such miracles and foresees the end from the begin­
ning. Every cart that is lucky enough to become a bone of con­
tention between two merchants will in the end receive twice the
price. In such a case, there is no reward for the overly hasty; and
therefore he very calmly puts his hand into his trouser pocket, takes
out a wad of tobacco and a pipe, and begins to prepare himself for a
smoke.
But Alter regards this delay as a good augury and comforts himself
that the farmer would not dare to cross him after he had labored so
hard on this deal; and so he, too, takes money from his pocket to
meet the price they had finally agreed upon before the Goat butted
in, pushing the money in front of the farmer, who is ostentatiously
busy with his pipe, and saying, " Here you are Mitra, as you wish,
even though the merchandise is not worth it--only so that I may wit­
ness my enemy's discomfort-and my effort is not in vain." "And
how much are you giving there, Mr. Alter? " the farmer asks all inno­
cently, while lighting his pipe. " How much ? Twelve rubles and three
guilders? But did I not say, fifteen and a half?" "That was at the be­
ginning, Mitra, that was at the beginning. . . . But afterwards you
agreed to twelve and three. " Alter tries to stir Mitra's memory, which
has suddenly succumbed to forgetfulness, and raised the price by
three rubles. "No! Mr. Alter, that wasn't it, but such and such . "
. . . And the farmer is about to return to the starting point and begin
it all anew. But Harry, who had grown impatient with their chatter,
jumps forward, takes the whip from Mitra with his left hand, and
seizes the horses' reins with his right, and says: " Do I have to stand
all day listening to your crowing?-Gee-up! " And with that he whis­
tles and pulls the horses' reins, and the horses dig their hooves into
the ground and get ready to move . . . . "No ! " Alter cries, clutching
the horses' reins to stop them. "You won't move from here, Goat!"
"I will move, Cockerel, I will move . . . . Gee-up! " "Stop! " "Kish­
kish-kish, Cockerel ! " "May the charity boxes rattle kish-kish
over your bier! May the cockerels pick over your grave, may the
. . . " "Move away, if you don't want yourself killed ! Here's my Shefil
coming. Gee-up! " " Goat! Goat! Goat! "-Aiter shrieks with all his
might, holding back the horses-" Esau, Ham, Bastard! Let me also
earn a crust of brea d ! "
But a t that moment a mighty blow descends on Alter's little head.
This blow came from the fist of Shefil, who had hurried along at the
Big Harry 161

cry of " Goat, " thrusting his way between the carts and jumping he­
hind Alter. . . . Immediately after that, he sprang on the farmer's
cart, took the reins from his father's hand, pulling and shouting:
"Gee-up, gee-up ! "
Alter, however, whose mind was reel ing from the force o f the
blow, did not let go of the horses' reins but was dragged after them,
shouting with all his might: " Goat, Goat, help! Save me! " And a
few moments later all his five sons, who had come running in re­
sponse to his cry, stood by him-and the wagon was stopped for a
second time.
The next moment Harry's two remaining sons came to his aid to
strengthen his hands in battle. The battle lines were drawn, and they
stood like two groups of goats, with one side pulling the horses for­
ward, and the other holding them back.
A few moments more-and warfare broke out; and very soon, it
reached a climax. The four staves, stuck into the four corners of the
cart-to secure the planks-were pulled out, to be used by the as­
sailants as truncheons, and the planks fell out and were scattered all
over the ground.
The tactics were very simple. The fighters d ivided into three
groups. The first-the sons-concentrated on cracking skulls with
their truncheons; the second-the fathers-limited their activity to
beard pulling and face smacking; while the third group-the two
mothers, Hanna and Baba, who had come running to the fray with
their infants-expended their energies on trivialities and nonsense in
the manner of women, such as snatching ornaments, pulling hair,
scratching faces, and trifles of such sorts.
And round all this strife and confusion the little boys and girls
from both sides stood watching in a circle, howling, wailing, and
wringing their hands.
Meanwhile Mitra, unmoved, unharnessed his horses for the time
being and hung a basket of fodder on the cart's peg, coolly and
calmly intending to return to the matter of his pipe, with which he
had begun, and watching the struggling Jews at the same time; but
because the pipe had gone out in the meantime and the stem was
j ammed, he took it from his mouth and turned it upside down to
empty the ash into the palm of his hand, preparing himself to fill it a
second time and await the outcome patiently.
But at that moment a policeman came hurrying along . . . . The
sight of a new face inflamed passions again, and warfare resumed in
1 62 Big Harry

a completely different manner. All the contestants suddenly joined

in one solid mass, like a cluster of worms twisting and struggling to­
gether. There was no clear sound, but confusion and panic, from
which emerged heads shamelessly uncovered, scarlet faces streaked
with blood, matted hair standing on end, forelocks grasped i n
hands, fists rising a n d falling, a large disheveled woman swaying
this way and that-and the whole moving, writhing, struggling, and
jostling together. . . . The policeman was so confused at the sight of
this complex and intertwined dance-that he produced his whistle
and proceeded to blow it with all his might . . .
The battle raged on that occasion. Finally an officer and police­
men and two physicians arrived to bandage the wounds of the vic­
tims, and statements were written down and witnesses produced.
And the battle concluded in proper fashion-but the people did not
disperse to their tents. They remained to celebrate the victory with
great splendor. And the victory was-Harry's! The disputed planks,
which were loaded on the wagon a second time, after having been
scattered-were finally sold to Harry Goat at twice the price; and to
the accompaniment of a crowd of carters and shouts of hurray, the
wagon was brought to the gates of his yard-to the chagrin of Alter
Cockerel and his sons. Harry felt extremely honored on that occa­
sion! Such moments were the most precious in his life.
The victory also lent luster to the spoils that had been rescued
with such jeopardy to life. Almost all the carters undertook the un­
loading and stacking of the planks with great enthusiasm, a nd
Harry allocated an important and prominent place in his yard for
them, instead of piling them on the other planks and beams stacked
up in disorder throughout his yard.

Harry's wood yard, his pride and joy, was supervised by his three
sons: Shefil, Zelig, and Moshe, in this order: Shefil, a powerful, silent
young man with his father's frame, was Harry's right-hand man in
conquering the market, and in time of need-his was the first fist to
strike. Zelig, who combined something of his mother's earthiness and
Harry's humil ity, calm and withdrawn by nature-looked after the in­
ternal affairs of the wood yard, the unloading and stacking of planks;
and last but not lcast-Moshe, who imitated in every respect the
Big Harry 161

young aristocrat Lampidretzky, who had taken a loan from Harry.

He was entrusted with the task of talking to the " squires" who came
to Harry's yard to buy on credit. These were Harry's fa vorite cus­
tomers because they were not inclined to be penny-pinching or to
drive a hard bargain. What did it matter to them? After all, they were
buying on credit. Moreover-there was always the hint of a loan; for
the present the squire would give a promissory note, and buying on
credit could be regarded as a loan. One squire taking a loan was far
better than ten "katsaps. " The fate of these squires was placed in the
lap of Moshe, the youngest son. It was not for nothing that he had
learned to speak Polish and play the flute well. His nose supported
blue spectacles, and his mustache was shaped in the form of two
leeches raising their tails and facing each other-exactly like the son
of the noble Lampidretzky. All these accomplishments, according to
Harry, bespoke a great future, for which reason he called him
" Candidate . " "My Candidate"-Harry would say when speaking of
Moshe-" had an interview yesterday with the Governor and said to
him . . . " or: " My Candidate reproved the Chief of Police last night in
the " treater"6 for not paying attention " ; . . . "My Candidate is in­
vited this evening to General Timofeioff's party." . . . And that was
Harry's term. But Hannah did not agree with the title " Candidate"
that Harry used, but preferred another title to define Moshe's nobility.
" My Moshe," Hannah would say, "is fashioned from quite different
material and does not resemble any of us in any way. My Moshe is
like the son of a perfect 'aristocrat' and all the ladies are enthralled by
him" . . . "My Moshe is an Agent!!"
Agent-in her opinion this was the highest possible level of nobil­
ity. " Is so-and-so an Agent? " she would scornfully remark, when­
ever she saw anyone preening i n clothes that she did not consider to
be suita ble, or sporting blue spectacles-when his nose was not
properly shaped for them. With regard to her two sons, Zelig and
Shefil, she was not overlavish with her praise and defined their qual­
ity briefly, "Shefil-he is Harry down to a 't'; and Zelig-he is a de­
cent soul, j ust like his mother. "
And between these three the work of the wood yard was divided
to the last detail.
Apart from the task of " talking to the squires," which was left
solely to the " Candidate," or the " Agent," Harry entrusted another

6 Mispronunciation of theater.
1 64 Big Harry

elevated task to his son: namely, the craft of writing. Moshe was the
sole exponent of this great art in all his father's household.
Whenever the Almighty burdened Harry with the task of signing
any letter or document-the matter was entrusted to Moshe, and he
fulfilled his father's requests in perfect fashion under the control and
supervision of his father.
" Come here please, come here, my Candidate! " Harry would call
to Moshe while fixing his spectacles on his nose, and spreading the
document that was waiting for signature on the table. " Come here
please and show me your great skill. Please sit here and sign for me,
as I tell you. "
Moshe sits a t the table, takes the pen, begins t o flourish it rapidly
as a skilled scribe, and awaits Harry's command.
" Now write carefully, as I tell you. Stop! I will dictate it to you. "
And Harry dictates. " First o f all, put down a capital H!"-And the
" H " safely finds its place. " Now write an a. " -And an " a" is
added. Harry always pronounces the " r " emphatically and properly
rolled, and he l ikes the writing to reflect the dictation-and the
trilled " rr " is safely installed.
" Now dip your pen a second time, and throw in a little y!"-and
the "y" is thrown in. " Now read me what you have written ! " Harry
commands. The name is read out loud and clear: " Harry ! "
Beyond this the Candidate's skill was not p u t to use: the art of
writing was only created for signature. Harry readily admits the
benefit of signature. Signature is something for which there is al­
ways a need, for without signature-there is no loan document and
no lender, no interest and no "katsaps," and no " squires," and the
whole world reverts to chaos-and then where would Harry be? . . .
Indeed, is not signature a wonderful invention? "Take, for example,
Lampidretzky! That gentleman is a man of su bstance, tall and
sturdy, with a belly and a mustache! Moreover, he is very well con­
nected, the scion of a long line of aristocrats, and obviously he has
plenty of " honor"-and yet, great gentleman as he is, when he
comes to me to take a single loan, I take a little piece of paper on
top of which is written one short line: 'Loan agreement for one
thousand rubles: R 1 ,000,' and say to him: 'My noble sir! Please put
your great dignity and honor to the trouble of signing, with all re­
spect, here below, at the edge of this piece of paper lying in front of
you ! ' And the honorable and awesome gentleman-comes and
signs! And from that moment he is completely mine and in my
Big Harry J 6S

hand . . . . I take the piece of paper on which Squire La mpidretzky's

name lies, and I fold it and double it up, and crease it and screw it
into my hand like one squeezes soft wax . . . . These hard, intimidat­
ing gentlemen-once they have put their signatures on the paper, be­
come soft and plia ble as wax . . . . Even the 'honor' changes com­
pletely-you can press and squeeze it as much as you like . . . and
afterwards I lower this fi ne gentleman Lampi dretzky in to my
trouser pocket to rest in one bundle with others of his ilk-and
there rest in peace! . . . From that time on, Squire Lampidretzky lies
in the chest all folded and doubled up like a baby in its mother's
womb-from that moment the top line of the piece of paper begins
to grow and grow, while Mr. Lampidretzky on the bottom line
shrinks and shrinks . . . and what is the cause of all this ?-'The sig­
nature! "'-Thus Harry would muse to himself with much pleasure
and satisfaction, imagining the great Lampidretzky caught in the
palm of his hand like a bird, while he toys with him . . . .
As for Harry's wood yard-the business has no need for writing.
Harry doesn't believe in account books. What can't be seen-won't
be discovered in account books. The best kind of bookkeeping-is
i n his pocket. Indeed, it is remarkable why people in this world
should waste their time keeping accounts, since Harry's wood yard
is run i n the best possible way without account books, and nothing
is lacking, thank heaven.

Truth to tell, there were things to be seen i n Harry's yard that could
not be found in other yards. Harry, who derived a good livelihood
from his other properties and his loans-was not a wood merchant
for mere pennies, but a trader by natural inclination, trade for its
own sake. After horses, h i s m a i n love was dealing in t i mber, i n
which he w a s very skilled a n d i n which he found particular plea­
sure, like a " lover of antiques," for example, who understands the
value of a n old master or any other unusual work of art. Thus
Harry was especially fond of all kinds of timbers whose use was un­
common, which were needed only by specialists. Harry made every
effort to enrich his yard with such items until he raised it to the level
of a veritable museum of the arts and crafts of timber. Even in its ex­
ternal appearance and i n its disorder, the yard resembled antique
1 66 Big Harry

shops i n the Jewish quarter. Long thick beams of more than twenty
feet, which had once been the pride of the forest, were piled up and
stacked on top of each other i n strange confusion, pressing beneath
them old oaks that had already turned black from the heat and rain
of many seasons of summer and winter. And these old oaks pressed
and squeezed in their turn strange planks and ancient beams for
which there was never any need, which could serve only as ships'
masts. Below them . . . but what was below them nobody could
know, because everything below was already pressed and squeezed
into the ground from the weight of the load on top of them. Even
Harry himself had forgotten what had been lying there originally
and been swallowed into the ground. Near these great giants was
the place of the " frenchies "-that was Harry's name for the long
thin planks with wispy ends, which he did not much like-and on
top of them broad planks of more than a foot in width had taken up
position, and on top of them all were scattered roof tiles made in the
old fashion, which had already lost all hope of ever being used on a
roof. . . . Next to them lay heaps upon heaps of all kinds of thin tim­
bers, cuttings, ribs, small boards, pieces of carts, and wheels . . . all
piled up in complete disorder, no two bits alike, new and old, black
and white, short and long, thick and thin mixed up together, pushed
and squeezed to the last inch. All these kinds of merchandise, al­
though they were no longer of any use to carpenters or builders­
nevertheless went on deteriorating of their own accord, even with­
out customers . . . . The earth swallowed up a third of them, a third
of them were stolen by neighbors for firewood, and a third were
plundered by the peasants unloading timber in his yard and filling
up the diminished loads so that they would always be full. . . . This
plunder was taken with the excuse that they needed it to repair their
wagons, which had broken down on the way, and Harry did not
refuse them. Harry despised such pettiness. One " squire"-could
repay him sevenfold, and he would pay for what was stolen, swal­
lowed, and plundered four or five times over. For the most part
Harry's reckoning was not wrong. Anyone who needed uncommon
timber, after visiting all the yards without success, was finally com­
pelled to fall into Harry's hands. He sensed what was required and
what kind of bird his " Father in heaven" had sent his way-and he
would ensnare his quarry skillfully.
But just as the proverb says, "All cobblers go barefoot"-Ha rry
saw no need in the early years of his prosperity to cha nge his old
Big Harry 1 67

dwelling, a lowly, miserable ruin that he had purchased some years

ago together with some land for almost nothing, and build himself a
pleasant dwelling and acquire good furniture, as people do. This old
hovel had two dark narrow rooms and a very big kitchen. But
Hannah, in whom Harry had already recognized signs of a kind of
desire for importance and the name of " Lady, " who could sec no
merit in this ruin with its roof sagging in the middle like a horse's
back, had already tried more than once to drop hints to her husband
about the need to have a proper house like everyone else, and to rid
her of the rickety ruin of which she was sick and tired-but Harry
paid no heed to this strange desire; not, God forbid, because of miser­
liness or ill will; but because it was extremely difficult for him to dis­
card his attitudes and change his status. He was very, very careful
about his luck. Deep down he nursed the illusion that he must remain
the same Harry that he was when he struck it lucky. That Harry
would succeed, and any other Harry would not succeed; any slight
change would cause harm and a change of luck. In vain Hannah ar­
gued that the Holy One, Blessed be He, would not bring misfortune
on her account, since good luck had favored him only because of her;
and since she was advocating this, it must certainly be good advice,
and the Holy One, Blessed be He, would agree with her-but Harry
was like flint and would not change his mind! Hannah had almost de­
spaired of any hope of ever reaching the standing of a " Lady," and
she was already beginning to complain about her bad luck: " O h !
what good was a l l this wealth-if she w a s still regarded as a servant
girl in the street and in the women's gallery in the Synagogue. Oh!
how fed up she was with her lowly position among the ladies! And
what shame and degradation she felt whenever a pair of ladies col­
lecting charity came to her "tomb" (namely her dwelling). Alas! bet­
ter for her to be swallowed in the ground than that two such ladies
should behold her wretchedness. A dark, narrow grave, poor rickety
furniture-j ust like a pauper. While Harry-two hundred and fifty
plagues in his belly, Lord of the Universe!-would sit there with the
carters without a care in the world. " . . . Thus Hannah grieved in bit­
terness and refused to be comforted. These complaints had become
ever more bitter since she began to receive furtive visits from certain
women with whom Hannah would whisper in a corner secretly and
cautiously. These women were traders who brought under their
aprons " real bargains"-jewelry and remnants of cloth-to women
who were on bad terms with their husbands and had stashed away
168 Big Harry

their own moneys. Hannah, too, did business with them. She had al­
ready accumulated in the recesses of her wardrobe many precious
jewels stored in two slippers together with her hidden moneys; and
only the lack of a new house and nice furniture prevented her from
being a Lady to the Manor born. But on occasion, time will succeed
where common sense fails, and what Hannah was unable to achieve
by persuasion was granted her by a single chance event-and this is
the way it happened:
A magician once came Harry's way: a circus owner or tightrope
walker, a climber of poles fifty feet high-in short, one of those
" birds" that Harry used to wait for. . . . This circus artist needed a n
unusually tall pole for h i s tricks a n d stunts, a n d such a pole could
only be found in Harry's wood yard, and the man bought it at the
asking price. Now since this pole lay peacefully among the lower
strata, half buried in the earth beneath a multitude of piles of other
poles-Harry was forced to h ire workers to clear away the top
strata and descend into the depths to dig the pole out. And while
they were digging-whole treasuries of forest produce were discov­
ered in the earth-a complete "wood yard " buried in the ground
nine feet deep! This " Pompeii," which Harry found in the depths so
suddenly and unexpectedly, presented him with a quandary: where
could he possibly put all this wood? And here an idea occurred to
him. Perhaps it might be well to accept Hannah's advice, with which
she had been tempting him so long, and build a new house in place
of the old one, which was gradually collapsing, and show all those
"lepers" that Harry, too, thank God, possessed a pleasant, spacious
dwelling. In truth he had refrained thus far from building a new
house not out of meanness or stinginess but because of his fear of
changing his situation, lest his luck might change; now this sudden
discovery, which the Holy One, Blessed be He, had afforded him,
must certainly be a sign from heaven that this would be permitted
him without harming his luck, God forbid.
So Harry ordered all the sunken, swallowed-up graves to be
opened, and to wake the ancient, encrusted sleepers from their rest,
and request them, with all due respect to their antiquity, to return to
the light of day. Whoever has never seen giant beams and mighty
joists rising from the belly of the earth has never really witnessed
broken pride, a slighted li neage, and the glory of old age trodden
underfoot . . . . Great carcasses lay on the ground stretched out,
heavy, moist, and blackened, with gaping hollows where ants and
Big Harry 1 69

worms had nested and decay had consumed them from within. The
smell of the grave wafted afar. . . . Yet in their day they had been the
pride of the forest! . . .
These giants, stripped of their glorious lineage beneath the ax,
were sawn into planks and boards of all sizes and brought to rest
in peace within the walls of the house that Harry had decided to
build. Watch ing the dismemberment and stripping of these giants,
Harry remembered the good old days and all the delights of for­
mer times before the earth began to swarm with these new "l ittle
creatures," who amounted to no more than " pe-pu-pa." He re­
membered with nostalgia and related to the young ca rters the
deeds of their fathers in the previous generation, how they, and
only they, really understood the art of eating: how to eat, how
much to eat, and what to eat. Only they properly " understood
how to get the best out of dishes . " Harry recalled " the great
cheese p a ncakes that were brought in deep earthenware bowls
onto the tables of our fathers, each pancake as big as a loaf; and
these gigantic pancakes were encrusted i n pockets of pastry filled
with cheese, half a liter of cheese to each pancake; and they were
brought to the table floating in piping hot butter and croaking like
frogs. And the pies that were called trembla i n Russian and were
shaped like three-cornered bags, filled with cracklings and onions ?
And the roast geese? And the gizzards? And the strong brandy,
'five star,' which warms you from head to foot? And the pickled
cucumbers ?-Oh, O h ! Those were the days! This generation has
never tasted real food and drink. " Whereas he, Harry, is still alive
by virtue of the food he had eaten i n those days . . .
Not long afterwards . . . And " al l those lepers " both great and
small looked longingly at what Harry took delight i n showing: one
corner of a long house jauntily j utting toward the street and stand­
ing proudly at an angle in a fenced courtyard, a sight for sore eyes,
with a little porch over its entrance.
Needless to say, the house could not be erected without the help
of the Rebbe. Before the building was finished, Harry went to the
Rebbe to get his blessing and his amulets. Nor did the Rebbe with­
hold his favor from him, but presented them to h i m generously:
four old worn-out coins to bury i n the earth at the four corners of
the house, 1 3 8 7 iron needles to be placed beneath the l intels, and

7Corresponding to the Kabbalistic notion of 138 "doors of wisdom."

1 70 Big Harry

charms and amulets to be fixed over the beams o£ the entrances and
in the corners of the house. Laden with all these valuables, Harry re­
turned home in excellent spirits and decided to have a " housewarm­
ing" and invite all the neighbors . . . including the dignitaries and
the big shots; all this at the insistence of Hannah, his wife.

10

On that same Sabbath of the housewarming, Harry and his wife

welcomed into their new home all the residents of the neighbor­
hood, who did not spurn his invitation and came together with their
wives and children and infants cluttering round their feet-with the
sole object of eating him out of house and home!
Harry felt greatly honored on that Sabbath ! Simply everyone wit­
nessed his great wealth and the might of his bundles. First he ex­
plained to his guests that his house was not built of " frenchies" and
thin rods like the houses, for example, of those dignitaries, which
perch miraculously "on chickens' feet "-but of firm solid oak,
which would last a long time. " Harry-you all know Harry­
doesn't go in for toys." Next he led them through all the rooms and
showed them his new furniture, praising it in passing: " Have you
ever seen chairs like these? There are a dozen less one. They used to
stand in the drawing room of Count Petinkewicz. One day a large,
fat general came to his home and sat on one of them and it broke
under him. Since he could not find a carpenter or joiner who knew
how to turn out a chair in the same pattern to make up the set, the
Count proceeded to sell them to me for next to nothing-1 30
rubles . " In similar style he lavished praise on all the other furniture.
He was particularly proud of two large antique mi rrors in gilt
frames dating back to Methuselah, which he claimed had hung sixty
years ago in the cabinet room of a minister, or a kind of minister,
and had ended up in the town almost miraculously. The guests tried
looking into the mirrors to determine their qual ity and suddenly
found that their shapes in the mirrors had undergone a strange dis­
tortion, as though they were seized by convulsions . . . . Similarly,
pra ises were la vished upon a thronelike chair and a worn-out
couch, neither of which was sound of li mb, and Harry had placed
them prominently because of their importance and pedigree. And
after he had finished praising all these possessions, Harry returned
Big Harry 171

in good spi rits-like a man who has performed his duty-to the din­
ing room, and besought the guests to enjoy all the good things laid
out for them on the table.
Nor did the good guests refuse on this occasion. They fell upon
the " feast" laid out before them, grabbing, chewing, grinding, and
eating hungrily, as well as putting something in the pockets of the
children with them; and all to fu lfill the commandment to consume
the last crumb. Harry, meanwhile, affected not to see or understand;
indeed, he became so confused at the sight of all those chewing
mouths, rotating tongues, and grinding and cracking teeth, and was
so bewildered by the shouts of " Le-bayim " surrounding him on
every side, that when Reb Aaron, the oldest and most senior of the
big shots, took his hand to congratulate him-Harry suddenly took
hold of his beard, with the intention of kissing him as he would the
carters, and Reb Aaron escaped only with great difficulty.
As for Hannah-if you missed seeing Hannah in her finery on that
Sabbath, you never in your life saw a real lady. All the precious jew­
els and finery that had lain in darkness for so long, hoarded and
stored away in a stocking in the depths of her wardrobe, now
earned the right to rise from the depths to be hung on Hannah's
body and gleam to the delight of every eye. She towered incongru­
ously over the invited male and female guests, striving to display her
adorned limbs to everyone, as if to say: " Come and have a good
look, important ladies! Here are my ears on which two glittering
earrings hang like two large peas . . . but do you think that is all?
Have another look and get an eyeful! Here's a big thick gold chain,
clinking and flashing from my neck to my bosom; gold bracelets on
my hands and rings on my fingers-and here are my two hands,
spread out i n front of you. Come and examine them "-thus pro­
claimed Hannah's very being. All this, i ndeed, did appear a little
strange and surprising, and she too appeared in her own eyes
strange and unfamiliar, like an unschooled lady. But no matter­
here she was completely covered with gold, shining and glittering
. . . and even her face and eyes were unusually silvery and golden,
and her bovine expression was hidden for a moment beneath this
semblance of i mportance. Her double chin was rounded and
swollen like half an apple, and her cheeks were fiery red like a sliced
watermelon, or as if they had j ust suffered a couple of slaps from
Harry's hand . . . . Even the high wig, plaited like a Purim loaf, encir­
cling her head, added a measure of charm-all of her declaring that
1 72 Big Harry

henceforth she was a lady! And she almost succeeded i n attracting

the glances of a few ladies, glances full of stinging fury, envy, and
scorn, which were quickly transformed into winks and malicious
whispers from one woman to the next; but the demands of hospital­
ity and the preparations sent her to the kitchen from time to time
and brought her from one room to another.
Then came the turn of the pastries to appear on the table. Hannah
had made use of all her culinary skills (she was a butcher's daughter)
to provide the " spread " for the housewarming with the best of
Sabbath delicacies. To this end she had prepared three kinds of pas­
tries, of which the finest was the " stomach pie," which most women
never learned to make properly, because it can go badly wrong . . .
but Harry had encouraged her to do it on the Sabbath eve, saying:
" Let them eat-and may their gall burst . " . . . But the angel ap­
pointed over the Sabbath cholent betrayed them on this occasion in
a mean and ugly way and quite uncharacteristically: the important
pie, the queen of pies, because of insufficient heat in the oven, did
not settle properly, and no sweet savor accompanied it when it was
put on the table . . . . Some of the guests who had come to settle old
scores found an excellent pretext here, and they suddenly began fid­
geting and screwing up their noses as a hint to the wise . . . . But the
more sophisticated among them turned their eyes to the senior dig­
nitary who was sitting in the place of honor, to see the reaction of
his nose.
The senior dignitary lowered his nose right down to the pie; he
turned his nose to one side-and sniffed with his right nostril, and
then he turned it to the other side-and sniffed with his left nostril,
and without further ado he returned the piece with the fork stuck in
it to its place, closed his eyes, quietly whispered the final grace and
rose from the table in order to take leave of his host and return to
his house with the full dignity and status of "a big shot." But be­
cause he saw Hannah preparing herself to implore him to taste the
pie, on which she had labored only for "his sake "-he hastened to
shake Harry's hand peremptorily as he mumbled the usual congrat­
ulations, and while so doing, escaped from the house. All the re­
maining important guests took their cue from him and left in haste,
as though fleeing from a revolution-to the embarrassment of the
stomach pie, the queen of pies, which was left standing on the table
like a wretched orphan, causing great distress to Hannah and secret
satisfaction to Harry.
Big Harry 1 7.l

As for the carters-Hannah had allocated a section and a table just

for them, and laid before them their own " spread " : a flask of watered­
down brandy, little honey cakes, and three salt-herrings prepared in
oil and vinegar. Of the other delicacies and dainties that came to the
main table, she gave them nothing. This angered them to the point of
fury, and they cursed her through clenched teeth. And in order to
avenge their besmirched honor-carters very easily take um brage
when they are invited to a festivity-they vented their wrath on the
brandy, finishing off the flask entirely, and went home in high dud­
geon with suppressed hatred in their hearts, without taking leave . . . .
"Thank God that's over ! " Harry said, sitting at the table after the
flight of the important guests. " Did you see, Hannah, how those
gluttons and drunkards fell like locusts on everything put in front of
them, and poli shed it off without leaving a crum b ? They even
stuffed their pockets! It's a miracle that the stomach pie managed to
escape ! " And Harry put into his mouth some remnants of the radish
and onion mix. "I am sorry about it," Hannah replied. " But did you
notice, Harry, that Sprinza herself spoke to me in a friendly fashion
and also . . . ?" "Tut! Women's business," Harry interrupted her.
" But why do you say that you are sorry? What is there to be sorry
about!-Bring me the liver and onions ! " Hannah served Harry with
chopped liver and onions.
" For my part," Harry continued, as he filled his mouth, "I would
rather have the carters than these fine fellows: they at least are grate­
ful for the honor that you do them, while these fine folk are only
clowns who come to see what's lacking i n the house and afterwards
to make a song about it. Today they stuff their bellies with dainties,
and tomorrow they make you into a laughingstock. I hope I am mis­
taken-Hannah, give me the egg and onion ! " . . . In this fashion
Harry and his wife exchanged views during the Sabbath midday
meal. And it was clear that both were well satisfied, and that all they
were saying was only good-natured banter after their fashion, the sort
of conversation that takes place at the Sabbath meal over a full glass
and a well-cooked cholent consumed heartily and with satisfaction.

11

And it was evening and it was morning-Sunday. And the world

went on as usual. Hannah's hope that by virtue of the housewarm-
1 74 Big Harry

ing and her pies, she might rise a little from her lowly status in the
eyes of the ladies was not realized, nor was Harry's wish that the
galls of all his enemies should burst from envy. And by the following
day, not a single gall had burst, and apart from two or three stom­
achs that required castor oil, no unfortunate event occurred, God
forbid, because of Harry's Kiddush. Instead, his prophecy about
mockery that he had voiced at the Sabbath meal came true. From
first thing on Sunday morning, Harry's Kiddush and his pies became
material for exposition. And when the big shots gathered for morn­
ing prayer at the Synagogue, the previous day's Kiddush was imme­
diately put on the agenda, and all the upper-class wags (and which
of the upper class in that street did not attempt to be a wag? ) tried
to direct arrows of scorn and witticism, and heap mountains of
mockery on every single aspect of the Kiddush. And of course the
poor old stomach pie was given a complete chapter and attracted its
own particular mockery, with the majority of the sharpest and most
pointed witticisms falling to its lot. And the old gentleman ex­
pounded in detail and with great importance how the "pig"­
Harry-actually dared to lower his snout right opposite his own
face, to kiss him, and how he had managed to evade him. And the
middling rich, grubbing round the big shot, added each in tum a
spicy anecdote from their own personal observations, and the
ridicule rolled forth as sharp and pointed as need be to the satisfac­
tion of the big shot and the amusement of all the middling ones.
As that was the case-Harry no longer had any need for many
rooms without any particular purpose-at noon on Sunday, the day
after the housewarming, he closed up most of the rooms of his
house and confined his dwelling to four. The closed-up rooms were
only opened on special occasions: when the Rebbe of K-bi came, or
when any prospective in-law arrived, to consider one of Harry's
sons as a possible bridegroom.
And as that was the case-there was clearly no need for Hannah
to put to use all the silverware she had bought to adorn the table
and the household, for all these things do not serve everyday needs,
but are only for show and ornament-at noon on Sunday, following
the Sabbath, Hannah hid away in a chest all the silver knives, forks,
and spoons, which she had rattled so loudly on the previous day in
front of the guests. These precious items would remain in a cup­
board until the wedding of one of her sons, when their turn would
come to be revealed a second time and be jingled loudly.
Big Harry 1 75

All that Sunday, Ha rry was not in a cheerful mood. He sat on the
step of his new porch in front of his new house, vexed and moody,
without looking at the old bench in front of the gate, where he had
always sat for some fifteen years. The previous day Hannah had im­
plored and entreated him to take pity on her and not to spin his
yarns in the company of the carters. This no longer suited him; even
the carters themselves would look down on him. She even threat­
ened him severely that if he didn't listen to her-she would simply
uproot the seat, smash it, destroy it, and finish it off without mercy,
and moreover she would pour a pot of boiling water on the carters,
and scald those scurvy dogs, and stop them congregating by the
gates of her yard to her reproach and shame. " How did my old fool
come to be so proud ? " Harry wondered. All the same Harry was
not afraid of her. He was not henpecked, nor was he under her
thumb--except that he looked from afar and saw that the carters
were also keeping their distance and were nursing a grudge against
him: they had not forgotten yesterday's insult, and they turned away
from h i m and passed him with lowered eyes and a ngry faces.
Moreover, he was himself aware that even if the carters did congre­
gate around h i m now, his conversation would not go well, a s
though the inspiration h a d departed a n d some sort of barrier now
separated him from his former world.
Suddenly his ears rang with the noise of loud la ughter coming
from the group of carters who had gathered together on one of the
empty carts in the m iddle of the street. Harry looked at the group
sideways and saw Yanke!, the oldest of the carters, sitting on a bag
of fodder on his low cart, with his pipe between his rotten, yellow
teeth, smoking, spitting, and talking all at once-an accomplish­
ment peculiar to veteran carters-in the company of younger carters
hanging and perched miraculously on every bit of the cart that gave
them a fingerhold or a bit of a seat; and they were guffawing and
baring their teeth in wild laughter and looki ng sideways toward
Harry. It was clear that they were talking about him and mocking
yesterday's Kiddush, and it seemed to h i m that the word " pie"
could also be heard from the group . . .
"They are mocking me," Harry muttered, sinking even deeper
into his thoughts. " Serves me right, old fool that I a m ! Didn't I
know in advance that it would all end in mockery and ridicule ? I
dwelt in peace for fifteen years and kept clear of all the stuff and
nonsense of those big shots, and suddenly I went and invited 'all
1 76 Big Harry

those lepers,' a plague upon them, to a housewarming! As though I

would feel honored by them or as though I needed their self­
importance!-And all for what?-Because my old fool has not yet
given up the idea of becoming 'an important Lady."'
And Harry recalled all the events of the previous day's
Kiddush-and felt hot all over. He remembered all the fine guests
with their important faces radiating arrogance, complacency, self­
satisfaction, and endless, limitless self-importance . . . . He remem­
bered their pompous entrance, their arrogant gait and cautious
manner of sitting down, as though they were endowing the seat
with honor by merely sitting on it. He remembered the ridicule
and scornful laughter that accompanied them from their arrival to
their departure, their expressions spoken in loshen truvki ( a s
Harry called the Holy Tongue, for which he h a d no use) as they sat
down to eat, w h ich certainly i ncluded mocking references to
Harry and his household. He recalled how all that self-importance
had suddenly melted away and vanished as soon as the delicacies
and tasty items arrived on the table; how they had fallen on every
morsel like starvelings and simple gluttons, and eaten, chewed
away, ground, and destroyed the last remnant. Did not he, Harry,
understand all the scorn and contempt they showed him with such
gluttony? Would the guests have behaved thus, when sitting at the
table of "an important big shot" ? All they would get there would
be "a big headache on a little plate,'' and yet they would eat with
good manners, scarcely touching a thing, and leaving more than
was given to them-but here-no! "They did not come to enjoy
my hospita lity-but to eat me up alive! They didn't come to honor
me-but to despoil me, to shame me, to tread me into the dust!
And why? Because I don't know the craft of how to be a big shot;
because I don't know how to mouth truvki or read the small print
like them; because I don't put on four pairs of tefillin and I don't
hang on to the big shot's kapote. Now, Alter Adder also doesn't
know how to mouth truvki and read the small print-nevertheless
he understands the art and craft of self-importance and has
achieved the title 'big shot,' even though when it comes to 'bun­
dles,' he doesn't reach my ank les . . . . For all his shortcomings, his
skill in hanging onto the old big shot makes up for it all . " . . .
Wrapped in these thoughts, Harry remembered how in his confused
state of mind he had bent down to kiss the old big shot, and how the
latter had escaped with the help of Alter Adder. And similarly he re-
Big Harry 1 77

called the entrance of the " stomach pie," Hannah's beaming counte­
nance at that moment, the sniffing noses, how the old big shot had
stood up, the flight of the guests, and in all this confusion Hannah
prancing like an untamed hei fer, running hither and thither, shaking
her great earrings, entreating, despairing, looking after the guests,
pleading with them-and then the poor abandoned pie . . . and sud­
denly a thought flashed across his mind like an arrow: the pic had
been abandoned out of malice and deliberately; the guests had fled
maliciously, to turn him into a laughingstock and trample his reputa­
tion in the dust. With this idea in mind, Harry suddenly sprang from
his place and ran to Hannah, who was standing at that moment in the
kitchen, and shouted in a terrifying voice: "Silly cow! Stupid beast!
Butcher's daughter! You are to blame for all this; it is your fault that I
am humiliated! All you want is to be an important Lady-but I am
going to spit in the important faces of all the big shots! Do you hear,
stupid? I will spit at all their self-importance and all the shame they
pour on me. Your husband has no desire to be a fancy fellow! Harry
can never be an important big shot. Harry was not born for that, and
Harry will go back to being what he was. Importance cannot be
bought with 'bundles.' . . . Importance-is a k ind of gift, a kind of
art, it's a something-that Harry doesn't need and doesn't want.
Harry as an upper-class Jew, Harry as an Elder in the Synagogue,
Harry dispensing favors, Harry mouthing truvki-ha-ha-ha!-Stupid
woman, an upper-class Jew has to mouth truvki, to read the small
print, and put on four pairs of tefillin! And Harry has no skill in all
that. Harry has bundles-and that's good enough for him ! "

12

That very evening, a summer evening when the moon was shining,
the stars glittering, and frogs croaking in the distance . . . when the
windows of the houses in the street were open, and strange violin
melodies penetrated the street to the delight of the " important house­
holders" (the fathers of the fiddlers), who were sitting on the steps of
their porches, or slowly pacing up and down the length of the veran­
dah at the side of the houses, dressed in light, thin coats, with light,
silk skullcaps and light sandals . . . about the time when the windows
of Harry's new house were open and emitting, j ust for spite, the
squeaking sounds of flutes ( Harry's sons were playing), at that pleas-
1 78 Big Harry

ant hour, Harry was again sitting on the old bench in front of his
gate, the favorite bench, which had served him faithfully and borne
his weight so patiently for fifteen years; looking in the moonlight at
the important big shots and listening to the squawking of the discor­
dant violins competing noisily with the squeaks of his sons' flutes­
Harry's thoughts were of this kind: "Those self-important people
strolling about slowly, confidently, and self-satisfied-one cannot
deny-are important from their very beginning. And God be with
them! Let them keep what they have ! For why should I lie? I and
they are two opposites. But my own personal opinion is that this im­
portance, which up to a few years ago was very salable, is no longer
worth even a single kopek. It is true that I, Harry, am a boor, an ig­
noramus, and a kind of 'bastard' in the congregation of Israel; and
even the 'bundles' do not refine me and have enabled me only to
climb up to the status of a coarse man of substance-baa/ gufB and
no more. And I have always been kept at a distance and remained an
outsider as far as the community is concerned-but the future, the
future, belongs to my Candidate, who is now playing the flute, and
not to the sons of the big shots, who are playing on their violins.
There is a different kind of importance on the market now! Quite
different from the empty importance of that lot. Who goes walking
with the district official's daughter? My Candidate! Who plays cards
with the police chief? My Candidate! Who has talks with the gover­
nor?-My Candidate! And who is invited to General Timofeioff's
party ?-Again, my Candidate! The day will come when this
Candidate of mine will have i nfluence with the governor, and then­
get your noses ready, you big shots! All of them, all of them will be in
his hand ! "-And Harry pats his pocket full of bundles.
And the notes of the fiddles gradually die away. Only two or three
still wearily scrape out their sounds. But the sound of the flute
grows ever stronger, ever louder, spreading far and wide in the si­
lence of the night . . . . Which shall triumph ? The refined violin or
the coarse flute?
The song of the nightingale was also heard ascending in the dis­
tance, and Harry opened his mouth and yawned widely. Suddenly
he cried: "Shefil! Have you watered the chestnut?"

•A coarse nouveau-riche. The Hehrcw title of t h i s novella is Aryeh I Harry I Baal

Gu(.
Big Harry 1 79

Shefil poked his head out of the window, flute in hand, and an­
swered: "I have, Father! " "If so, go to sleep! Qu ick, it's time al­
ready. You have to rise early tomorrow for the market! "
And Harry raised his heavy limbs from the bench, turned, and
walked first to the wood yard to put his marks on the piles of wood
for fear of theft, and to check the doors of the cowshed and the sta­
ble-and then went off to bed.
 4
The Shamed Trumpet

C omposed in 1 9 1 5 , The Shamed Trumpet describes the tragic

uprooting of a Jewish family from a Volhynian village on the
eve of Passover as a result of the promulgation of the notorious
"Temporary May Laws" in 1 8 8 2 . These laws banned Jews
from further settling in the villages of the so-called Jewish Pale.
Their impact, coming after the even more infamous pogroms of
1 8 8 1-1 8 82, was traumatic. According to Simon Dubnow, the
prominent historian:

With this [act] a large part of the area that hitherto had been open
to Jewish settlement was closed to them. Millions of people were
imprisoned within the crowded confines of the cities and towns of
Western Russia.
The situation was aggravated by a provision that empowered
the local rural councils to expel any " undesirable settlers" ( i.e.,
Jews) from their midst. !

The literary device employed by Bialik is the frame story. The

narrator is other than the implied author, and he tells the story
of the expulsion of his family about thirty-three years previ­
ously ( i.e., in 1 8 82) i n the first person. He is a Jewish soldier of
a bout forty, the youngest son of the exiled fam ily, who i s a

1 D ubnow, Simon. Divrei Yemai Am Olam (History of the Eternal People) (Vol.
1 0). Tel Aviv: Dvir, 1 965. P. 79 [with deletions].

181
1 82 The Shamed Trumpet

guest at another Passover Seder during World War I. He was

nine years old when the tragedy occurred. The account thus is
told by an adult recalling a crucial incident in his childhood.
The story opens with a portrayal of the idyllic, if uncertain,
situation of two Jewish families living in a village. The setting
echoes Bialik's quasi-autobiographical reminiscences of his
childhood i n a similar village (see Random Harvest). It sug­
gests the Garden of Eden before the Fall.
Despite the non-Jewish environment in which the two fami­
lies reside, they scrupulously adhere to their Jewish way of life.
The soldier's family had settled in the village one day after the
anti-Jewish decree went i nto effect. However, the father man­
aged to delay their expulsion for some time by bribing and ca­
joling local and provincial officials. In the end, pressure from a
"higher authority" compelled the local officials to enforce the
new law and order the family to abandon their property and
leave the area. They are served the evacuation order on the eve
of Passover, shortly before their eldest son, serving as a bugler
in the Russian army, arrives home on a holiday leave.
Passover and the son's trumpet are the two key motifs of the
story. Passover commemorates the freeing of the Jews from
Egyptian bondage, their triumphal exodus from Egypt, and
their march to the Promised Land. In Jewish tradition it sym­
bolizes the redemption of the Children of Israel and of all hu­
mankind.
To the naive family, who viewed the decree of expulsion as
originating from mysterious " authorities on high," the news
that their soldier son would be joining them for Passover was
taken to be an act of divine mercy-an omen of good tidings.
The nine-year-old was enthralled by the prospect of seeing his
brother's glistening trumpet, more so than even the brother
himself. For him and his parents, the trumpet had become the
instrument heralding salvation.
In an ironic twist, fate changes the hoped-for redemption to
enslavement. The exodus is not a march to a Promised Land
but an exile from a chi ldhood paradise to a crowded and dis­
mal Jewish town offering little prospect of a decent living. A
new slavery is imposed upon the family by a modern Pharaoh.
At the close of this monologue, one of the children at the
Seder innocently asks the soldier: "And the trumpet? " Despite
The Shamed Trumpet l !l .l

the grim story he had just heard, the child still helieves in the
saving promise of redemption, the reca pturing of a lost Eden.
The soldier replies that after his leave had ended, his older
hrother returned to his barracks. "I never had the privilege of
hearing its l the trumpet's ! sound aga in. All those da y s it re­
mained in its case under one of the heds at the inn, where it
was deposited with the rest of our things. It never dared to
come out and sound its call. The trumpet was ashamed . "
But the child's hope i s not totally unfulfilled. Bialik hints that
as bleak as the tragedy had been and as irrational as the human
dream of redemption seems to be, it is sustained hy faith. Two
passages illustrate the tenacity of faith. Shortly before the ex­
iles' wagons reach town, the mother orders a halt. It had
turned dark and it was both Sabbath eve and the first night of
Passover. She did not forget to light the candles.

The carts and their peasant drivers stood respectfully to attention.

A moment later, two little golden flames shone on the hilltop. The
blind woods suddenly regained their sight, as if two living eyes
were placed in them. The trees silently wondered at the Jewess
wrapped in a shawl who stood among rhem at that time spread­
ing the palms of her hands over the candles and quietly weeping.
However strange and sad that entire gathering appeared at the
time, it seemed to me nevertheless that at the very instant when
the rwo little flames flickered among the trees, holiness had de­
scended upon the woods. In one of its dark corners, in a sanctu­
ary hidden deep within it, a small gate of mercy had opened and a
good angel had poked his head out of the gate. The two flames
were like two golden dots, marking the end of a verse on the rim
of the sky, and indicating that up to those points was the realm of
the secular and beyond them began the Sabbath and the holiday.

Equally poignant is the passage that appears near the end of

the story:

I lifted my eyes to the heavens. Tonight they, too, had wrapped

themselves in blue, displaying a l l their jewelry, big stars, and
small and tiny. Here and there silver chains of light were linked to
them in veils of clouds, which, in pure lightness appeared as a
splendid adjunct to the glorious blue of the holiday. Now a hid-
1 84 The Shamed Trumpet

den hand raised the "silver bowl" of the moon1 carefully remov­
ing its white coverlet, the veil of the flimsy cloud, and displayed it
in full glory.

The sky had turned into a Passover Seder plate. The sky was
celebrating the holiday. The hope of redemption survives the
tragedy of exile.
 1

The following story was told to me by a fellow guest at a Passover

Seder. He was an army reservist, about forty years old, who had
been called up to serve in the war. I recount his tale in his own words
without embellishment.
"This is only the second time in my life," so he began, "that I am
celebrating a Seder at a stranger's table. The first was about thirty
years ago when I was a small boy of nine, but on that occasion my
entire family celebrated the Passover away from home: father,
mother, brothers, s isters-even Styupe, our servant. 'How come ? '
you ask. Well it was like this:
" My father and our entire family had come to live in a small village
near a little town j ust one day after the government had decreed that
Jews could no longer reside in the villages.2 Had he got there only
one day earlier, matters would have been different. But he was one
day late and was classified as an illegal. Not that he was a deliberate
criminal. He was compelled to act as he did because he had j ust been
given a post in one of the neighboring forests. And when it is a ques­
tion of a living, you ignore the law and its dire consequences. At first,
the district police appeared to be strict, but in the main, they enjoyed
their role very much. After all, one Jew residing illegally is better than
ten who are legal. The former is a fruit-bearing tree, the latter, fruit­
less. Indeed within a few days 'normal relations' were established be­
tween my 'criminal' father and the law-enforcing police. He and his
family lived i n the village and the police, each according to his rank,
received a monthly 'payoff,' in addition to such sporadic gifts as holi­
day bonuses and petty cash loans, which need never be repaid, as
well as other presents and goodies on their religious holidays or on

2ln May 1 882, as part of its anti-Jewish policy, the Russian government issued a
decree prohibiting Jews from settling in the villages of most of the provinces of the
Jewish Pale of Settlement.

1 85
186 The Shamed Trumpet

the birthdays of the captain, his wife, and all his children. Such folks,
as you well know, do not turn up their noses at any gift, be it a pair
of stuffed geese, a keg of wine, a bottle of vodka, a hundred eggs, a
cone of sugar in its blue wrapper, a liter of tea, a plug of tobacco, a
packet of soft cheese, hamantaschen-they take it all. And they are
so correct! The captain, for example, would never demand anything;
he only made a request-'Yose,' he would say to Father, placing his
heavy hand on his shoulder: 'Please ask them to bring me a cord of
wood for the fireplace; winter's about to come,' or 'Please don't for­
get, dear fellow, to send me about a thousand wooden tiles. You can
see that my roof needs repairing.'
"The cross-eyed sergeant used another techn ique. He would
shower praise upon any object that caught his crossed eye. 'ltah,' he
would say to my mother, as he cast his eyes on a fat hen pecking at
the garbage pile in our yard, 'Where did you find such a first-rate
hen ?' Rest assured, following such a compliment, that beautiful hen
would find itself lying tethered in the sergeant's blue wagon. He
would time his visits to our home on Sabbaths and holidays and
precisely at mealtimes. The family had only to sit around the table
and through the window we would spy his tawny mare and blue
wagon and, of course, the sergeant himself. What could we do? We
would welcome the guest and i nvite him to d i ne. The Sabbath
hymns were dispensed with, and the book that Father perused be­
tween dishes was discarded. The drunken stench his mouth exuded
and his banal chatter woul d mar the holiness of the occasion.
Moreover, you were obliged to respond with hearty laughter to his
compliments and stale jokes despite the fact that you were sitting on
pins and needles, your fist growing taut as you wished you could
grab him by the scruff of his neck and throw him out.
" Indeed as time went by, the family got used to him and no longer
feared him. Sometimes, after he had emptied a full bottle of vodka
down his gullet and got soused, he would join us in humming the
tunes of the Sabbath hymns, of course, in his own way, mouth
aslant and lips limp and his besotted eyes blinking away, smiling at
the lady of the house and, at the same time, pawing Parasha, our
fat, pock-marked shiksah. Only our tutor, imported from town, was
not a ble to feel comforta ble with him, or with the dog chained in
our yard. Both remained strange and frightening to him, even
though father paid the extra poll tax for the tutor.
The Shamed Trumpet I H7

"So five years passed. During that time, my father had huilt him­
self a house with lumber from his forest. He invited all the village
peasants to the housewarming and spread a special ta hle for them.
Behind the house, Mother had pla nted a large vegeta ble garden,
which stretched to the foot of the hill. There were three milk cows
in the barn and two horses in the stable. Chickens pecked away and
geese and goslings cackled in the yard. In the pond in front of our
yard, two ducks swished and spluttered, and a calf and pony grazed
in the nearby field. Everything in country style: the living was scant,
life impoverished, but things were calm and peaceful.
" Father spent all the weekdays in the forest. He would return
home on Fridays or the day before each holiday on his wagon and
spend a day or two with the family. The children would await his
arrival anxiously at the edge of the forest, trembling with j oy. When
they heard the faint tinkling of his horses' bells approaching from
the outskirts of the forest, which ended j ust before the village, they
would take off like birds and run toward the wagon, shouting glee­
fully: 'Daddy! Daddy ! ' In a flash, they would climb and tumble into
the wagon and hug their father, resting on his knees, hanging on to
his neck, or fingering his pockets to discover what presents he had
brought. Even Styupe, the wagoner, who also served as watchman,
an overgrown, broad-shou l dered lad, would join i n the fun .
Flashing h i s firm, white teeth i n delight, h e would crack his whip
fiercely at the horses to please the children, and the horses would
break into a brisk trot toward our home.
" I've not yet told you that in that very same village there lived a
Jew by the name of Zelig, who was a legal resident. His house stood
on top of a hill at the edge of the village, while ours was in the val­
ley below. These two Jewish houses, standing somewhat apart from
the houses of the village and differing from them in height and i n
t h e shape of their roofs, formed a separate quarter, s o t o speak.
Soon a thin pathway was cut through the grass, linking the two
yards permanently, like a white parting i n one's hair. There was a
single tutor for the children of both families and neighborly sharing
was the rule. Each mother knew what was cooking in the other's pot
and each would send her neighbor delicacies or cakes baked in her
oven. Each would lend a pot, a sieve, or a spatula to her friend.
They would both share a bunch of greens, a basket of eggs, or a pair
of chickens. On winter nights or during long summer days, they
188 The Shamed Trumpet

would visit each other's homes or porches for a chat, shell peas, put
up jam, pluck feathers, or darn socks i n each other's company.
" Only a little time elapsed before relationships began to cement.
Neighbors became in-laws.3 Father had a veritable bevy of children,
male and female. Samuel, the eldest, had already reached twenty
and had a draft exemption. Zelig, too, had many children. His el­
dest daughter, Zelda, was of marriageable age. They drew up a mar­
riage contract and set the wedding day. But the bridegroom's mili­
tary exemption was canceled and he was drafted. To the distress of
both families, the wedding had to be postponed indefinitely, that is,
until the bridegroom had completed his military service.
" One thing upset Father very much: the village lacked a regular
minyan. 'Sabbaths and Holy Days without public worship,' he
would say, 'lose half their charm. ' All of the males fit to be counted
for the minyan added up to only seven: four from our home, Father,
my two brothers, and the tutor; and three from Zelig's. When my
brother left for the army, the number was reduced to six.
Consequently, Father took special delight whenever God sent him
guests for the Sabbath, whether they were lumber merchants who
came to the forest, colleagues who were forest clerks, or Jewish itin­
erants such as peddlers or glaziers. On such occasions, Father would
send word to Pesach-Itzi, the dairyman, a simple, childless Jew, who
lived with his barren wife and his milk cows on his isolated farm i n
a nearby valley within walking range of the Sabbath limit of the vil­
lage.4 Zelig would rise early and walk to our home on a Sabbath
morning, cutting through gardens and fields, wearing a white talit
under his Sabbath caftan, so that he might make up the ten. Not
that he was so circumspect about the prohibition against carrying
on the Sabbath-most country folk are not so strictly observant.
However, if one is to fulfill the mitzvah of public worship on the
Sabbath, one should do so properly. Sometimes, when there was no
way out, they would count a minor versed in Ijumash as a member
of a minyan. When minyanim became more freq uent, Father

1The closest equivalent to mehutanim, a term designating the relationship be·

tween the two sets of parents of a married couple. The term was used not only for
actual me/.Jutanim but also for potential ones, who had approved arrangements for
a prospective marriage.
4The furthest point outside a village or a town's borders beyond which an obser­
vant Jew may not walk on the Sabbath without violating the prohibition against la­
boring on the Sahhath.
The Shamed Trumpet I H9

brought a Torah scroll home from town, which he hid behind a cur­
tain in a small ark set up in a special corner of the schoolroom. The
Torah, with its hidden holiness, would then cast a mysterious fear
upon the children . The chanting of the Torah by our tutor with the
proper cantillation before the tiny rural congregation wrapped in
talitot and outfitted with lfumashim and eyeglasses would su ffuse
the Sabbath morning with a unique sanctity, which was also sensed,
so it would appear, even by the copper pots glistening in the cup­
board opposite us and smiling their soft, gentle Sabbath smile. In
the adjoining room behind the wall, Mother, clad in her clean
Sabbath dress and her silk kerchief and holding her heavy shawl in
her hand, would be standing, her lips whispering and her eyes full of
j oyous tears, as i f to say: 'True we a re cast away i n this vil lage
among the Gentiles, but the gracious, merciful, and loving God does
not abandon His people. In His great compassion, He grants us this
Sabbath day and places His pure and holy Torah in my home.' In
honor of such a Sabbath with a minyan for Torah reading, Mother
would add an extra dessert to the menu and following the service
would treat the worshippers to brandy and honey cakes for Kiddush
and feed them other Sabbath delicacies. The Jews, as was their cus­
tom, would drink small gulps of brandy and toast Mother and
Father: 'Le-bayim, Yose, may God grant salvation and consolation
to Israel, and le-bayim, Itah, may God soon return your son safely
to your home.' And Mother would sigh and respond: 'Amen, by
Your will, 0 Lord of the Universe. '
" At times, o u r home w a s the scene of a friendly meal a n d a small
celebration. After the close of a winter Sabbath's day, when a calf or
a goose was to be slaughtered and its fat fried, the shobet of the ad­
j acent village, a clever Jew who was always well dressed and a good
conversationalist, would come to our house wrapped in his winter
coat and carrying his case of ritual knives. He would bring with him
a whiff of urban Jewry and a touch of elation. In honor of the
night's event, the minyan members would gather in our home imme­
diately after Havdalah: Reb Zelig, our in-law, his wife, and children;
Pesach-ltzi, with his barren spouse; and two or three of the forest
clerks, whom Father had invited before the Sabbath. They would
huddle about the boiling samovar, which stood on the table, drink
tea, and perspire. Father and Zelig would play 'Goats and Wolf'5 as

sA popular home game.

1 90 The Shamed Trumpet

the tutor stood over them, swaying as if studying Talmud and giving
advice to each of the players. The forest clerks-most of whom had
a good sense of humor, would amuse the ladies with their j okes.
Pesach-ltzi, the dairyman, never took his pipe out of his mouth, and
he would fill the house with smoke and the stench of cheap tobacco.
My elder brother, who was something of a musician, would play
Hasidic or Wallachian tunes and strum upon his fiddle.
" As soon as the shobet was escorted into the room, he would be
greeted with 'Welcome, have a good week,' and a place would be
cleared for him at the head of the table. After hastily downing two
or three glasses of tea to warm him up, he would go out to 'the
sla ughterhouse,' that is, to the barn, looking like a bandit, with
hitched-up coattails, rolled-up sleeves, and a glistening slaughtering
knife, to do what must be done to the calf and the tethered geese.
The yard dogs would hear the screeching of the geese and the bel­
lowing of the calf and would stand guard at the barn, awaiting, as
they growled impatiently, their share of the prey to be thrown upon
the garbage pile. After the slaughtering and inspection were com­
pleted, the shohet would return to the house and take his place at
the head of the table, his appearance restored: a shobet of re­
spectable mien, wearing a wide girdle, and a good talker. 'Goats and
Wolf' would be abandoned and all faces turned toward him. Reb
Gadi-that was the shobet's name-would sit, wearing his clean
velvet yarmulke above his broad white shining forehead, and he
would tell his stories about Elijah, remembered for his goodness, or
the Baal Shem Tov6of blessed memory, and another tale about the
Grandpa of Shpola,? may his merit protect us, or about one of the
thirty-six righteous men.8 Everyone was silent and all ears. The tu­
tor would sit, eyes closed, holding his scant beard in his hand, sway­
ing as if he were studying Talmud and listening intently, emitting a
pious sigh from time to time. Pesach-ltzi would wrap himself in a
cloud of pipe smoke, his hat tipped toward the back of his neck.
The frivolous forest clerks would suddenly turn serious, and one of
the modest ladies would quickly tuck an elusive braid under her ker-

" " M aster of the Good Name," the title of Rabbi Israel Baal Shem Tov, the al­
leged founder of Hasidism.
-A leading Hasidic holy man.
"Hasidim believed that in every generation thirty-six holy men, whose identity is
concealed, su�ta in the entire world.
The Shamed Trumpet 1 91

chief. Now the samovar would lower its voice to a low hum. Hush.
The sho�et 's talk, sweet, modulated, but clearly enunciated, would
flow gently, pouring out drop after sweet drop, which entered the
heart as an elixir of life. The world, then, is still not lost. The
Guardian of Israel, then, neither slumbers nor sleeps.
" After that: the melaveh malkah9 meal, which started with
brandy, was followed by stewed fru it, chicken cracklings, and
chopped duck's liver. More brandy as an intermezzo was followed
by stea ming, boiling borscht and kreplach. As its finale, brandy
again and then hymn singing, fiddle playing by my eldest brother,
and fervent dancing until dawn. On such an evening the usually tac­
iturn Pesach-ltzi would sometimes let h imself go and attain the
highest degree of ecstasy, dancing and singing like a madman. As he
danced, he would throw off his caftan . Face lit up like a torch, eyes
closed, and the palms of his hands stretched out in a prayerful ges­
ture, he would dance and roar, 'Israel, 0 sacred people, I'd give my
life for j ust one of your fingernails.' Or, in tears: 'Merciful Jews, let
me be martyred, have pity on me, sacrifice me, and drag me to the
stake. Oh my heart is on fire with the love of Israel ! ' And so he
would dance, roar, and weep until he collapsed on a bench in a dead
faint. Early next morning, after he sobered up, he would slip away
like a thief, return to his home, his cows, and his pipe and resume
his silent ways.
"We would pass most holidays in serene and unostentatious j oy,
which was mixed with quiet sadness. The enforced separation from
the Jewish community was felt acutely among the villagers at these
times. The heart would become full with longing. The command­
ment that 'the holidays be holy unto you' would be observed to the
letter: eating, drinking, sleeping, and leisure; but the close of the
verse 'and unto the Lord' could not be properly kept: there was no
house of prayer, no Jewish commu n i ty, nothing. At times, there
would be no minyan, because the tutor would be away visiting his
home and there was no itinerant available. For what Jewish pauper
would go out on the road during a holiday? And even if a minyan
was scraped together-what flavor did things have when, because of
our many sins, we could parade only a single Torah scroll and shake
only a single lulav. The schedule of holiday visits was likewise not

9 " Accompanying rhe Queen" ( i .e., rhe Sabbarh ) . The lare-afrernoon Sabbarh
meal marking rhe approaching end of rhe Sabbarh.
1 92 The Shamed Trumpet

very extensive and hardly satisfying. Zelig and Pesach-ltzi's family

would visit our home, Pesach-ltzi and my father's families would
visit Zelig, and our family and Zelig's would visit Pesach-ltzi, and
with that the cycle was completed. During the visit, we would sit in
the neighbor's house, split hazelnuts and pumpkin seeds, and tell old
news, strumming on the table and yawning until our temples ached.
"When my eldest brother went off to the army, a new bitter drop
was added to Mother's silent cup of sorrow. Its effect was most no­
ticeable on Sabbaths and Holy Days. The 'gang' at home was small:
my brother's fiddle would hang on the wall silent and lonely day af­
ter day. The eldest son's seat at the table would be empty, and to my
mother it always appeared like the gap left by a missing front tooth
or a severed finger. Whenever she would pass a plate of food to us,
she would cast her sad eyes upon that vacant seat and suppress a
sigh so as not to violate the spirit of the Sabbath or the holiday.
"My father got along peacefully with the village's peasants. Since
his arrival to cut the timber, there were more j obs. Some worked in
the forest, others transported the trees to the nearby train stop .
Moreover, building timber was now available at a reduced price and
on installments. As a result, better-looking structures began to rise:
new homes, new silos, new barns, and new pens, i n place of the
rickety ruins and the mud huts. Two or three straw roofs were re­
placed with wooden tiles, and the many breaches in the fences were
repaired. There were, of course, occasions when lumber was 'lifted'
by one of the peasants. It would be impossible for such a thing not
to happen in a vil lage bordering upon a forest. Father would usually
not resort to the full force of the law when this occurred and, on oc­
casion, would ignore the incident completely. After all, he was living
among them, and illegally at that. Goodwill is best for a Jew. The
peasants showed him great respect because of his behavior, and they
would frequently bring their quarrels and their litigations before
him for adj udication. Father knew how to talk their language and
understood their customs. He would calm one man and reprimand
the other, and all sides would depart contented. With their digni­
taries, he would exchange Purim gifts: we would send them haman­
taschen and rolls, and they would reciprocate with a live hen, eggs,
or a bag of poppy seeds. Vasili, a clever peasant and an old friend of
Father's, even sent his little son to our tutor's class for him to be
taught how to write with the other children. The village had forty
homes but no school, church, or priest. Pyetka-that was the little
The Shamed Trumpet 1 '1 .1

fellow's name-almost turned Jewish. He knew many parts of the

liturgy by heart and most of the Bible stories, which he either heard
from his Jewish friends or picked up unwitti ngly. He would write
Russian in Hebrew characters and from left to right. On Christmas
Eve, the village children would gather and sing their carols under
our windows. Yavdoha, our old nurse, would hand them slices of
white �allah, dough cakes filled with peas and beans, and small
change. I n the spring, my eldest brother, Samuel, would set up a
swing between two trees in the nearby woods on which all the vil­
lage children, Jews and gentiles alike, would swing. In the winter, he
would fix sleds for them and the children would glide from the top
of Zelig's hill to its bottom. On summer evenings, the village young­
sters-boys and girls-would gather round our home, and Samuel
would stand inside the window playing his fiddle as they danced
outside. By the way, old Yavdoha had nursed three of our children,
and she loved them and our family deeply. She would care for the
children loyally, feed them, give them drink, put them to bed, and
waken them. She would, like a Jewess, remind them to wear their
little talit, cover their heads, recite the morning prayer, study Torah,
and be pious. She would caution them against mixing meat dishes
with dairy dishes, and when any of them was sick, she would se­
cretly bring a bottle of 'holy water' and sprinkle them so that they
be cured. "

"A 'Satan' arrived in the s ixth year of our stay i n the village. A
changing of the guard occurred in the district capital. One governor
left or died and was replaced by another. Suddenly, laws were being
strictly enforced, decrees and expulsions occurred with great fre­
quency. Day after day bad rumors spread from the surrounding vil­
lages, causing worry and panic among the isolated Jewish home­
steads in the area. Life was threatened, and jealousy and meanness
increased. Everyone feared for his bread and suspected his neighbor.
Father would return home from the forest unexpectedly, his face
worn with worry. He would carry on long, whispered conversations
with Mother and his in-law and then travel in haste to the county
seat or to the district capital in order to 'sweeten' the law. The very
thought of leaving the village was enough to freeze one's blood.
1 94 The Shamed Trumpet

Father's home had become rooted in the village, . and shortly before
the laws began to be enforced severely, he had begun building a tar
refinery, a project in which he had invested most of his limited capi­
tal . Nevertheless, Father's efforts in the 'proper places' were, it
seems, to no avail, since he always returned from his trips more up­
set than before. The officials in the 'proper places' had again be­
come very severe. The 'tax' rate rose sevenfold and even then noth­
ing was sure. The sergeant started visiting our home frequently, as
though on guard, but now he timed his visits at night like a thief.
His right eye, which seemed to be even more crossed than before,
had suddenly turned strange and cold, almost angry, its whiteness
having increased, as if it no longer recognized us. The village's peas­
ants had also changed. A kind of surliness that had not previously
existed now showed itself. Worse, there was not a single night in
which lumber was not stolen. There were even peasants who did not
try to hide this pilfering, knowing that it was best for Father to be
silent and overlook the matter. Things reached such a pass that one
of the peasants, Sashke the Wolf, a well-known pilferer, was appre­
hended with his two sons by our night watchman, Styupe. They
beat him severely and took the lumber to their home. On this occa­
sion Father could not remain silent and he had them arrested. From
then on, Father endured numerous enemies because of the thieves
and their relatives. One of them, the village notary, famous for his
drunkenness, began writing hate letters against Father week after
week, using the well-known format: 'Be informed that the Jew X,
son of Y, dwelling in our village illegally, in clear violation of the
law, corrupts the spirit of our community and does harm to the
State. ' The thieving peasant would carry the letter to 'the proper
places.'
"The 'proper places' would summon Father for an interview.
When he returned, he looked as pale as a corpse. Once when he
came home from wherever he had gone, he arrived with only one of
his horses. The other, the better horse, had been left with an official
of the 'proper places' as a 'payoff.' The salvaged horse, since Father
had not been able as yet to find him a partner, returned home alone
with his master, as if punished, with the hitching pole attached to
the middle of the wagon, dragging unnaturally alongside it. Father's
face was flushed with the shame of it all. It was as if they had shaved
off half his beard and cut away half his caftan. Styupe, the driver,
was almost weeping from distress. When he unhitched the single
The Shamed Trumpet 1 95

horse from the wagon and put him in the stable, he cursed him se­
verely, gritting his teeth and beating the horse on the mouth with his
fist, venting his anger upon it. The missing horse was, indeed, re­
placed later. Father traded his single, good horse for two poor ones,
an act that pained and shamed Styupe. Peace of mind and confi­
dence were never again restored. Not knowing what the next day
might bring, Father completely a bandoned the project for the tar re­
finery; the building was left only half completed. Father said that the
boards for the pens and the barns that were left among the trees in
the copse would come to him at night in his dreams and weep.
" I n the meantime, the strictures of the law grew in severity. At
first they would serve notice and only then would they expel, later
they expelled without warning. Bribes had no effect. Family home­
steads built by years of labor were destroyed by sudden decree or on
short notice. On the dirt roads stretching between the villages and
the town, peasant carts laden with the household goods of expelled
Jews crawled day after day. On the morrow, the very same peasants
would return to their villages laughing at the distress of the remain­
ing Jews, who had not yet been touched by the law. A dark terror
fell upon our home; hearts prophesied evil.
" Once on a gentile holiday, when Father was at home, Styupe
suddenly rushed in and told him that the village's peasants were at
the local tavern, mostly drunk, and they were preparing some sort
of a 'paper' against Father. The chief inciters were Sashke the Wolf
and his relative, the notary. The arguments of Father's supporters
were drowned out by the bottles of vodka with which the plotters
had treated the crowd. The text of 'the paper,' it was rumored, con­
tained a petition by the community to the 'proper places' to remove
Yosi, the Zhid, from the village-first, because he lives there illegally
and, second, because he is 'harm ful.' There seemed to have been
some basis to the rumor that a Jew was involved in the matter.
About that time, a Jew had purchased a tract of forest alongside of
Father's forest, and as was to be expected, there was competition
between the two forests, which frequently led to quarreling.
" Father did not waste a minute and went to the tavern himself.
He thought that 'they wouldn't dare do it in his presence.' And so it
was. Father's sudden appearance in the tavern left the plotters
abashed. Two or three of them slipped away, and the rest lowered
their eyes. One of them reached for the a bandoned 'paper' and tried
to hide it. A pious old man who respected my father beat him to the
1 96 The Shamed Trumpet

punch, grabbed 'the paper,' and, after first crossing himself, tore it
to shreds. As he did, he said to Father: 'Praise God, Yosi, you've
been saved from trouble and we, from sin. Order drinks for the peo­
ple.' Father gave the order. At once the people reversed themselves
and their mood changed. A sense of j ustice arose and the defense
was victorious. Some of the penitents had so repented that after a
few drinks they bore witness against themselves under oath that
they were dogs and sons of dogs going back ten generations. One of
them wailed like a beaver, begged Father's forgiveness, and threw
himself on the floor and cried, 'Trample upon me, Yosi, trample
upon me.' Another beat his breast and shouted that he would de­
fend Yosi to the last drop of his blood, and that he would kill the
Wolf, kill him for sure. As Father returned, he heard screams rising
from the tavern. As an act of repentance, plotters and defenders had
come to blows; one peasant grabbed the hair lock of the other-as
was the custom.
"The 'paper' was torn up this time, but the danger did not disap­
pear entirely. The village people were now divided into two hostile
camps. There was no end to quarrels and battles. Letters of accusa­
tion reached 'the proper places' from both groups. The captai n
would invite one side a n d then the other t o h i s office, stomp h i s feet
at both of them, and roar like a lion: 'To Siberia, in iron chains.'
"On one of the days of Hanukah, the captain summoned my fa­
ther to come to him. Father put a pair of fat geese in his sled as a gift
for the captain's wife and rushed to respond to the summons. The
lady of the house accepted the gift graciously, and her husband ush­
ered my father into his secluded room and said to him: 'Yosi, for
heaven's sake, I can no longer hide you. Enemies are plotting against
you, and the district office has become a stickler for the law: severe
action, warnings! A Jew in the village, God forbid, should neither be
found nor seen. They are as tough as nails.'
" 'Is it possible, only beca use of a single day ? ' Father argued.
'Because of a single day.' 'What should I d o ? ' Father asked.
'Perhaps, there is after all some way out.'
"The captain stretched out his palms and puckered his lips, as if
to say: 'Do whatever you can. 1-I'rn unable to hel p.'
" Father did not return horne but hurried off in his wagon to the
county seat. From there he dashed to the distant capital. And so he
ran from pillar to post until he returned horne after some time, ex­
hausted and depressed, having gotten almost nowhere. He did, in-
The Shamed Trumpet 1 ';17

deed, find some people who advised him, hut one man's advice con­
tradicted that of the other. There were also lohhyists who made him
promises, but these were slim. One of them who had, he said, con­
tacts in 'the proper places' rook it upon himself, for a decent fee, of
course, to ask one of them to 'legalize' Father's status, that is, to an­
tedate his arrival date at the village by one day, to before the prohi­
bition was promulgated, hut most people said that the man's words
were worthless, that he was a well-known liar. Despite it all Father
gave him an advance. Who knows, perha ps?
" By dint of this 'perhaps,' the lobbyist 'milked' Father for about
three months, and the matter never got beyond the 'maybe' stage.
Every week one discovered new parties who required 'appeasing'
and Father kept 'appeasing.' One day the lobbyist informed Father
that it was impossible to avoid the decree. It was sealed, signed, and
on someone's desk. What then was possi ble? Postpone its applica­
tion, and this would cost so much. But a few days later he was again
informed, after all the postponements, the paper was again on its
way and required further postponement. So Father again made an­
other payoff. Thus the matter dragged on and on. The lobbyist
stood guard, postponing with both hands, but the 'paper' was on its
way again, crawling slowly, step by step, invisibly, like a thief in a
tunnel, but on its way. Every move or delay cost Father dearly.
Above all, it cost him untold agony and loss of dignity. Going over
and over again to the courts, receiving requests to come back to­
morrow, bribing, cajoling, lying, and the flattering of cruel, drunken
high officials, and arrogant and dissolute younger ones. There were
also secret meetings in filthy taverns and unsavory negotiations.
From such trips, Father would return bloodied and take to his bed
for several days. When he recovered, he would confine himself to his
room, pacing back and forth for hours on end. Once, at twilight, I
found him standing i n the corner before the Holy Ark, weeping
silently.
"Those difficult days added many gray hairs to his head and wrin­
kles to his forehead. When Father realized that salvation would not
be coming by earthly means, he pinned his hopes on the mercy of
heaven. He never ceased trying. Scripture says, 'I shall bless you in
all that you endeavor,' but he no longer believed in total salvation.
He prayed silently that the catastrophe would not, at any rate, come
too quickly. In the meantime, who knows, perhaps . . . perhaps a
miracle might occur, some kind of riot or a war or some other polit-
1 98 The Shamed Trumpet

ical disaster, which would make them forget the �xistence of Yosi of
the village of Koziovka.
" In the meantime, April had arrived and we suddenly received a let­
ter from my brother Samuel, who was serving as a trumpeter in the
army band. The letter contained two items of good news: first, that
because of his special talents, he had earned a stripe and, second, that
he was granted a two-weeks' leave and would be arriving on the day
before Passover with his trumpet. Father read the letter aloud before
the entire family-and we all rejoiced. The children broke into a
dance: 'Samuel's coming, bringing his trumpet.' Mother's face
beamed for a moment and her eyes glistened with tears.
'"Hey woman, why are you crying?' said Father, as he wiped a
hidden tear from his eye as well. 'This is a good omen, now you will
see God's salvation! May it be so, 0 Lord, may He grant it for the
children's sake.'
" Alas, neither prayer was heard. We were not ready at all for the
catastrophe, which fell upon us earlier than we had anticipated: on
the day before Passover.

The guest paused for a moment and then resumed his story. "That
particular day was the eve of Passover, which fell on a Friday, and
every detail of that day is engraved on my memory. The sun shone
from first dawn all day long. The houses of the two in-laws, the one
on the hill and the one below it, smiled and sparkled at one another,
each newly painted white and sporting a blue belt of paint beneath
the windows, in honor of the holiday. Behind our house arose the
singing of the farmers' wives, the first to waken, who had gone out
to turn the soil of the vegetable garden, adding a new, black, moist
vegetable bed every hour. Following the rain, Zelig's hill was cov­
ered by a thin, green fuzz of soft, silken grass. The strip of path that
ran down the hill through the silk had suddenly turned a new yel­
low. The entire strip was strewn with damp, golden sand. No one
saw who had strewn the sand, but everyone knew that it had been
done secretly by Samuel's bride, early in the morning, in honor of
her bridegroom, who was expected that day. I was worried that I
might spoil the decorous belt with my footsteps before the bride­
groom's foot could tread upon it.
The Shamed Trumpet � ��

"There was much activity and noise in both yards. All the utensils
were scraped, rinsed, and purified. Benches and tables were scalded
with boiling water and red-hot stones and scru bbed by the thin,
veined hands of wrinkly old Yavdoha, the judaized gentile, who was
more circumspect about the laws of kashrut than any .Jewess, and
by the coarse fat hand of Parasha, the pock-marked shiksah . The
two mothers-in-law worked piously and bravely, worked and put
others to work, as if competing with each other. ror this was no
small matter: Samuel, the bridegroom, was coming today, after two
years of military service.
" You must understand that from the very day my brother's letter
arrived the two in-laws had been quarreling with each other. My
mother argued: Samuel was her guest. Parents have precedence over
in-laws. But the in-law shouted in reply: 'Not so! Samuel is a bride­
groom. Have you ever seen a bridegroom who has not spent a single
Passover at his in-laws' home ?' Both men intervened and came up
with a compromise: fifty-fifty, the first Seder at the parents' home,
the second at the in-laws'.
"A similar conflict erupted among the children. Each of them
wanted to j oi n Styupe i n his wagon as he rode out to the nearby
train station to meet the guest, who was expected on the afternoon
train. Finally, I was given the honor. I stood waiting impatiently for
the wagon, which had been hitched and was all decked out, and
stood at the gate of the yard for almost an hour without moving an
inch. It was delayed by Styupe, who was still sitting in the yard on a
carpenter's 'mule,' carving and sharpening white poles with his ax:
new Passover handles for rakes and spades. I very m uch wanted to
help him and put an end to the waiting, but Mother dragged me off
for a shampoo and a change of linen. She was concerned that I
might be held up on the way and begin the holiday with an unclean
body.
"To save time, I surrendered my head to the tub of hot water and
the partly toothless comb, and my flesh to the starched shirt, whose
white coldness irritated me. At an opportune moment, I tried to
urge my mother to dress me immediately (not for my own sake but
i n honor of my brother) in the rest of my new clothes: my hat, coat,
and trousers and above all my shining new shoes. I wanted to ap­
pear before Samuel i n full glory. But Mother rejected my appeal
with a mother's argument, that my clothes would get soiled on the
trip and it was best for me and for all concerned to put them on af-
200 The Shamed Trumpet

ter my return. Against my will, I agreed to a minimum and emerged

victorious, half renovated and improved, with the starched shirt
rubbing my neck, and feeling half the pleasure of the holiday cours­
ing through my skin and bones.
"In the hall, I ran into my sister, who was sitting on a stool crush­
ing matzah with a mortar and pestle twice her size. My other sister,
little more than a baby, was shaking the crushed matzah through a
little sieve onto a white tablecloth, an act that lent her a special
Passover charm.
" On a round wicker mat serving as the salting-board lay torn
pieces of fowl surrounding a disjointed goose, with their bluish giz­
zards and strips of yolk dripping reddish j uice. My middle brother
was hacking the horseradish with a chopper, contorting his face and
sneezing. Parasha stood at the kitchen doorway in a clean dress and
white apron and shawl, like a bride in full array, totally kosher for
Passover, her pock-marked face all shining; she was scaling a fat and
quivering fish with a dull knife, preparing it for the copper pot be­
side it. From the kitchen itself could be heard the sweet sounds of
spices and condiments being ground and the hissing of the flaming
fire in the refurbished stove, while the new pots stood gleaming.
Father was preparing the l:Iaroset. Mother was dipping a long string
of polished forks and spoons into a well in the yard. Wooden ves­
sels, benches, shelves, a barrel, and a white bucket were already i n
their allotted places, washed, rinsed, and ready for action. In a sec­
ond hollow the small flame of burning �ametz still flickered, with its
light cloud of smoke trembling i n the air. Passover eve was already
wafting its smells and noises everywhere. But Passover itself was still
locked inside the parlor, in the special room that Mother forbade
anyone to enter. There it sat behind the curtain, hidden like a king in
his chamber, amid the glory of white pillows and glittering glass­
ware, engaging the prophet Elijah in whispered conversation. Only
when Mother opened the door for a moment, as the need arose, did
the Passover spirit throw us children a good-natured glance, as if
hinting: 'I'm here, children ! '
"About half a n hour after the burning o f the �ametz, the wagon
finally moved off, with me in it. Now I knew that I was on my way
and that in two hours' time I would, God willing, be seeing my
brother, both him and his trumpet.
"As the wagon turned onto the road leading to the station, the
singing of the pea sant women working in the vegetable garden
The Shamed Trumpet 20 1

caught up with me. I turned my head back toward our quarter; the
two white houses stood girded with their blue belts and looked at
me, as if warning: 'Don't tarry on the road, it is Passover eve ! '
"The road between the village and the station, although some­
what softened by the night's rain and beset with patches of soggy
mud, was not too bad. The horses trotted at their usual cautious
gait. The distance between the village and the station was about a
two and a half hours' ride by wagon each way. If nothing delayed
us, we would be back with the guest between two and three o'clock,
that is, when the entire household would already be ready for the
Passover. I imagined how great the joy would be when the wagon
returned with Samuel. Both households would gather together and
go out to welcome him, including the bride.
"The horses ran through the fields with their bells tinkling. A
light breeze fluttered over my face, and I was very, very happy. The
charm of Passover eve rested on the entire world. The small clouds
in the sky were separated by great spaces forming paths of new
blue, Passover blue. In the clear air, waves of sweet warmth and re­
freshing coolness vied with each other, lightly playing on my face
and neck in turn. Pools of water lay in the fields like glass mirrors,
some of them smooth, reflecting the pure blue sky, and others shiv­
ering from the cold and shimmering with gold and silver, like the
crystal and glassware of Passover. Even the dirty remnants of small
piles of snow, which sometimes emerged as we passed a ditch, did
not spoil the view. To my eye, they seemed to be the residue of hard­
ened /:Jametz that had hidden in the dirt ditches beca use it was
ashamed.
"The wagon dashed on. We went in and out of woods and fields
and fields and woods. Meanwhile, my mind was full of Passover
thoughts. Our house will indeed experience great j oy this Passover,
day after day. On the first day, the in-laws will come to us: wine,
honey cakes, dumplings, nuts, and nut games. On the second day,
we will go to our i n-laws' home, and again wine, honey, cakes,
dumplings, nuts, and nut games. On the eve of the second day once
again we will all gather in their home. The in-laws will come, the
bride, Pesach-Itzi and his wife-everybody, everybody. Samuel will
play his trumpet, the children will dance. And again wine and
honey cakes, dumplings, and nuts.
"I must confess my j oy at the expected arrival of my brother was
further enhanced by the thought of the trumpet that he was bring-
202 The Shamed Trumpet

ing with him. It was this thought that had indu£ed me to go to the
station. I had never seen a real trumpet. I knew it only from a photo
that Samuel had sent us shortly before he j oined the band and that
now hung on the wall next to his fiddle. He was pictured there in
uniform holding the trumpet in his hand. Indeed the trumpet was a
beautiful and lovely thing. In less than an hour, I would have the
privilege of seeing it and perhaps blowing on it. That 'perhaps' filled
my heart with boundless glee. I was unable to restrain myself from
talking about it immediately with Styupe, who was sitting in front
of me with his back toward me.
" 'Tell me, Styupe,' I said to the driver, 'have you ever in all your
life seen a trumpet?' 'So what,' he turned a startled face toward me.
'Don't you know, Samuel is bringing a trumpet back with him, a
real trumpet, made of copper!' . . .
"This good news did not affect him, it would seem, at all, because
he turned back toward the horses without a word and calmly kept
on driving. I dismissed him from my mind, 'What does he under­
stand, a stupid goy.' I immediately joined my fists in the shape of a
tube and began to blow and toot into the air, bouncing myself to the
rhythm of the music. Opposite us drove several wagons of peasants
who were returning from the station, and a coach, with tinkling
bells bearing two kinds of uniformed officials. I continued trumpet­
ing, unconcerned. Only Styupe turned back his head several times
and stared unhappily at the officials, as if his heart told him that
they were up to no good.
"When we reached the station, we found Samuel there, standing
in uniform on the platform, waiting for our wagon. How coarsened
he looked, and where was his beard ? I j umped from the wagon and
ran toward him. Hellos, kisses. Styupe watered the horses and
transferred my brother's luggage to the wagon. I searched for the
trumpet with my eyes, but I saw only one crude, heavy chest and a
smaller and prettier piece, a kind of case. I immediately understood
that this case contained the treasure. Nevertheless, to resolve my
doubts, I asked my brother: 'What's it for?' 'That's the instrument's
case,' he replied. My hand that had fondled the case retreated out of
respect. The instrument! I wanted to ask my brother to show me the
instrument itself immediately but dared not. I raised my eyes toward
him pleading. My brother understood me and said, 'We have to
hurry home now, it's Passover eve.'
The Shamed Trumpet 20 1

"He was right. We had to hurry home now; it's Passover eve. The
three of us mounted the wagon swiftly. The horses began to canter
gleefully along the road, hells tinkling the good news: Samuel is
coming; Samuel is coming. Samuel involved himself in endles� talk
with Styupe about the affairs of the village. One asked and the other
responded. And as for me, my thoughts were only on the case and
its contents. I almost lost hope of ever actually seeing the trumpet. It
was doubly locked in its case, like the Passover in our parlor. But
the good Lord, it would seem, did not wish to deny me a reward for
my trip. With still some distance to go before reaching our vil lage,
He put a good thought into my brother's mind, namely, to an­
nounce his impending arrival from afa r with a trumpet call. No
sooner said than done. The case was opened; in an instant, the
trumpet suddenly flashed in my brother's hand. It was the epitome
of shining brass, with an array of stops, whose glare almost blinded
me. A moment later, from beneath my brother's fingers pure lilting
sounds began to pour forth and resonate. The instrument cooed like
a baby, then all of a sudden its brass throat thundered with all its
might across the wide fields, and a powerful and wonderful march
exploded into the thin air.
" Styupe cracked the whip. The horses took wing and raced along.
The bells on their necks seemed to be overwhelmed fm a moment
by the force of the march, and their song went off key, but soon
they recovered and their gleeful, rhythmic tinkling announced with
renewed vigor: Samuel is coming, Samuel is coming. The trees on
the roadside danced before us and gave way. The pools smiled.
Everything shouted and proclaimed: Samuel is coming, Samuel is
commg.
" And while the wagon was racing along, the coach with its two
officials again came toward us. The same coach and the same offi­
cials we had met on the way to the station. This double encounter I
viewed as an evil omen, which boded no good. The trumpet trem­
bled in Samuel's hand, as if its brilliance had suddenly been tar­
nished. Samuel hurriedly lowered it into the wagon, covering it with
his coat. Coach and wagon passed each other rapidly. The passen­
gers of each vehicle, as if by a single intuition, looked back and eyed
each other suspiciously for some time.
"In the meantime, with a short, stifled clatter our wagon thun­
dered across the little bridge spanning a narrow ravine and entered
204 The Shamed Trumpet

the village area. We had hoped that our people would come out to
meet us at this spot, as was agreed before we left. However, much to
our surprise, no one was there and we began to feel anxious. My
brother blew one last feeble blast on his trumpet and returned the
instrument to its case. Styupe suddenly stood up and whipped the
horses with all his might, sending them full speed ahead. One after
another the isolated peasant huts at the approaches to the village
rushed by: they and their fallen fences, and their barefoot and grimy
children splashing in the puddles, roused by the whip, the bells, and
the sight of the soldier on the wagon
" Now the two houses, one on the hill and the other below,
sparkled before our eyes. A group of men and women stood in front
of our yard. They must be some of the company gathered in honor
of the guest. But why does nobody move toward us? The whole
thing is a puzzle.
"And Styupe was still standing erect, legs spread out and lashing
with a heavy hand. The crack of his whip resounded like bursting
bubbles as the wagon approached noisily and rapidly. I could al­
ready make out each one of the group. The in-laws' family, big and
small, Pesach-ltzi and his wife, and others. The clothes were mixed:
a combination of holiday and weekday garments. New hats, shawls,
and shoes and the bride all in white was also there. So too was the
village elder with his garlic-colored beard and his red girdle. He
stood there to one side, carrying his silver-headed cane. What's he
doing here at such an hour, and why don't we see any of our family?
"A moment later, when the wagon halted before the gate and we
were able to see the faces of the assembled folk, everything became
clear. Without words, without speech, everything became clear.

The guest lowered his voice a little and continued: "The solution
was most cruel, too cruel for a small boy, such as I was then, to con­
template. It all happened so suddenly! Who could have ever imag­
ined that by the time my brother and I returned home from the sta­
tion, we would find nothing there! Who could have foreseen that
within four or five hours, while we were on the road, people would
enter the family home, load furnishings and inhabitants into carts,
The Shamed Trumpet 20S

and tell them to go wherever they could. And when? On that very
day!
"The decree had crept along for several months, crept like a silent
python, and now, when no one was expecting it, suddenly it
emerged from its hiding place and struck-and how savage and poi ­
sonous was its bite !
" The faces of the hatted and shawled assembly of men and
women who greeted us silently told us immediately what had hap­
pened to our father's home. Their depressed and gloomy faces
streaming with tears made them look like a band of mourners rather
than a welcoming crowd.
"When my brother Samuel descended from the wagon and I after
him, a piercing cry suddenly erupted, rising like an arrow-a lone
cry of anguish, which was immediately cut off as if by a sharp knife
leaving a deep gash in the air and in the heart. It was the fu ture
mother-in-law who had screamed in this fashion, and this short cry
was like the last gasp of a dying man. The children sobbed loudly,
and the men turned their faces away and their lips and eyelids trem­
bled.
" My whole world turned dim. I recall the events that su bse­
quently occurred, as if seen through a soiled and broken mirror:
many fragments smashed in halves, thirds, and quarters.
" Samuel and I were standing in the courtyard. I did not know
why we had entered it. Hats and new shoes without bodies between
them were silently walking behind us, as if floating on air. Someone
near me was speaking. I heard each individual word but did not see
the speaker or understand what he was saying or why. From the
bolted barn, whose door I could only see, rose the bitter and mind­
piercing cry of a bleating calf. Why was the calf crying? Another hat
floated toward us from the house, beneath it a beard and two
sleeved hands. The hands weeping like a baby's, as if to say: 'Look
Samuel, what they've done to us-Father?-Is he then still here ?'
" And there is Yavdoha . Looking at Samuel's face from afar, shak­
ing her little head like a gizzard, and sobbing quietly; the darling,
the favorite . . .
" We stood inside the house: a ruin, a desolation. The Passover
table, the walls, the windows-were all laid bare. The beds were
stripped. Two or three chairs lay upside down-destruction and
ruination.
206 The Shamed Trumpet

"Only the little Holy Ark remained hidden in its corner, standing
with its face covered with clean, white curtains, so as not to see the
house in its disgrace.
"Old Yavdoha wandered about within the chaos, clapping her
hands in despair and silently whimpering.
"The wicked men came. They came, loaded the wagons, and sent
Mother and children away.
" Does one have to relate the details of the expulsion? They are
very short and simple.
"Two officials sent especially from the district capital-it was they
whom we had encountered on the road-arrived suddenly at noon
with three wagons from the village. Heeding no pleas or arguments,
they gave orders that people and furnishings be loaded and trans­
ported to one of the neighboring Jewish townlets. Mother and the
children were forcibly seated in the wagons with the pillows, the
bolsters, a bundle of matzahs and the paraphernalia of exile. Even
the fish pan and the roasting kettle were removed from the oven
while sti ll cooking and were dispatched with their owners away
from the village.
"With the exiles went the best of our three cows, which the chil­
dren needed for milk, the mother of the abandoned calf. Only after
much difficulty was Father permitted to stay behind until his two re­
maining sons, Samuel and myself, and the wagon returned from the
station, on condition that he and his sons would then leave the vil­
lage immediately on that very day and on that very wagon. The vil­
lage elder was ordered in the most stringent terms not to leave the
place until the law was fully implemented. And so it was.
"Father handed over the Torah scroll and its small ark to Zelig,
his in-law, and his bunch of keys to old Yavdoha, who remained
there to watch over the house. He quickly urged me and Samuel to
get on the wagon so that we could catch up with Mother and the
children.
"The time for our final departure had now arrived. The old nurse
clasped my head to her heart and sobbed loudly. The womenfolk
started wailing again. The future mother-in-law fainted, and the
bride hid her face in her hands and her shoulders trembled.
"The wagon moved out. The two grown men, the father-in-law and
Pesach-ltzi, escorted us silently to the edge of the village where the
woods began and then returned home. Not one of the village's farm­
ers came to say good-bye. Those who saw us in the distance hurriedly
The Shamed Trum(Jet 207

hid themselves in their homes. A moment later, the entire wagon dis­
appeared completely into the woods-and everything was left hehind
us: the two white houses, the hill, the escorts, the village elder with his
staff and copper hadge, and Yavdoha. Thus ended the village!
"Through the slender trees and the ir foliage, to the left of the
road, a round clearing appeared, with an unfinished huilding stand­
ing at its center. This was the ta r refinery that had heen abandoned
in the middle of its construction. The courses of hrick stared at us in
desolation through the tree trunks. To me it seemed that they had
awakened from deep slumher, a slumher of despair, and appeared to
be complaining silently, 'Yosi, Yosi, why have you forsaken us?'
" Father turned his head away so as not to look at them. Suddenly
one heard a sob and a furtive groan . . . . Father was crying.
" Styupe angrily lashed the horses, as if intending to drown out
Father's cries and groans in the noise of trotting and the ringing of
bells, but the horses were tired. The road to the village was poor,
and the wagon la bored along. Once again it passed woods and
fields. The bells again sounded their thin, weak tinkling-but this
time the sound was so sad.
"As evening fell, we finally saw the three carts in the distance,
wending their way through the woods with their cargo of people
and furnishings. The cow straggled along tied to the last cart. From
time to time she turned back her head and bellowed to the sky. My
ears again heard the bleating of the calf that had been locked in the
barn.
"A moment later our wagon reached the caravan of carts. Shall I
tell you how Mother met her son on the road ? That is beyond me. I
would do better to skip over it. After the encounter, Mother re­
clined, as if dead, for more than an hour, sunken into the bundles of
bedding. At her side, my little sister lay folded up; she had fallen
asleep crying, the tears still on her cheek. My other sister and my
middle brother sat in the other two carts-their faces also streaked
with tears.
"At sunset, the caravan reached woods standing about a half­
hour's journey from the town. Mother suddenly stirred, straight­
ened the kerchief on her head, removed a small package from one of
the bundles, gave the order to halt the carts, and decamped. 'Where
are you going?' Father asked when he saw her turning toward a
hillock in the woods. He, too, stopped his wagon. 'To light candles,'
Mother replied.
208 The Shamed Trumpet

" No one was surprised. The day was both a Sabbath and
Passover, and she had never in all her life missed blessing the can­
dles. No one thought that even in the mad confusion of exile, she
would have forgotten to bring along the candles, lest darkness fall
while she was still en route.
" My brother Samuel immediately rushed to assist her. The carts
and their peasant drivers stood respectfully to attention. A moment
later, two little golden flames shone on the hilltop. The blind woods
suddenly regained their sight, as if two living eyes were placed in
them. The trees silently wondered at the Jewess wrapped in a shawl,
who stood among them at that time, spreading the palms of her
hands over the candles and quietly weeping.
" However strange and sad that entire gathering appeared at the
time, it seemed to me nevertheless that at the very instant when the
two little flames flickered among the trees, holiness had descended
upon the woods. In one of its dark corners, in a sanctuary hidden
deep within it, a small gate of mercy had opened and a good angel
had poked his head out of the gate. The two flames were like two
golden dots, marking the end of a verse on the rim of the sky, and
indicating that up to those points was the realm of the secular and
beyond them began the Sabbath and the holiday. The sadness that
had seized us at that hour appeared to soften. It, too, became holy.
Even the peasants seemed to sense this, and after the lighting of the
candles, as they and their animals began to move away, I imagined
that their exit from the forest in the twilight darkness was more de­
liberate and mysterious than their arrival. And the 'giddy-ups' with
which they urged on their tired animals were uttered in a lower key
and compassionately, as if the grief of the moment had overcome
them and suddenly affected their hearts and voices.
" Mother was not willing to return to the cart again after the
blessing of the candles but walked alongside the road, with Samuel
and Father walking silently on either side of her. The children in the
wagons were moved, at Father's suggestion, to our cart. Styupe was
ordered to hurry them to the nearby city before the wagons could
get there. Soon the wagons and the woods were left behind us. Once
again I turned my eyes toward the hillock in the woods. The two
flames sparkled at me for a little while and then suddenly disap­
peared. 'They've burnt out,' I said with concern, and my heart was
very sad that the woods had become blind once again and reverted
to darkness. The gate of mercy had opened for a moment and was
The Shamed Trumpet 20'1

closed again. The good angel withdrew his head, and everything
around us sank into silence.
"The town rapidly drew closer and closer. It winked at us through
the darkness with many sparks of light-holiday sparks. These sig­
naled the splendor of homes-rooms that were all brightness and
purity, white tablecloths, laden with all sorts of goodly foods and
blessings, glistening pillows, wine turning precious glass goblets red,
shining forks and spoons, handsome clothes and jewel ry, and gen­
erosity and beaming faces.
" It was quite possible that we were the only Jews in the whole
world who were on the road at this hour.
"I lifted my eyes to the heavens. Tonight they, too, had wrapped
themselves in blue, displaying all their jewelry, big stars and small
and tiny ones. Here and there silver chains of light were linked to
them in veils of clouds, which i n pure lightness appeared as a splen­
did adj unct to the glorious blue of the holiday. Now a hidden hand
raised the 'silver bowl' of the moon, carefully removing its white
coverlet, the veil of the flimsy cloud, and displayed it in full glory.
"A silent grief poured down with the moonlight and filled our
hearts with sorrow. Our throats choked and our eyes brimmed with
tears. Suddenly we were aware of everything that had befallen us,
and the tears flowed.
" When we came to the town, the moon had already reached the
middle of the sky. At our brother Moses's suggestion, the wagon
went ahead while we descended and walked along the sides of the
road, through dark alleys, trying to hide ourselves, moving furtively
through the shadows cast by fences and houses, to a void being seen
too much. Thi s caution was actually unnecessary because the streets
were empty at that time. People had not yet left the synagogues, and
all the way, as far as the only i nn in town, to which we went on
Father's instructions, we encountered nobody.
" After a quarter of an hour, the carts and passengers arrived at
the tavern. . . . Just then the people dressed i n holiday finery com­
ing out of the Synagogue saw, to their amazement, three carts
laden with furnishings parked in front of Moses Aaron's inn and
from one of them matzah crumbs fal l i ng to the ground in the
moonlight . . . .
"That night, " the narrator concluded, " for the first time, I cele­
brated the Passover Seder, together with my entire family, at a
stranger's table, the table of Reb Moses Aaron, the innkeeper, whom
210 The Shamed Trumpet

I remember for his kindness. This good man kept us all together and
did not allow us to be separated. Moreover, wishing to please my fa­
ther and mother, he honored me, their youngest son, by inviting me
to recite the 'Four Questions , ' I O
" And the trumpet? " a little blushing boy, a guest at the Seder but
previously unnoticed by anyone, suddenly asked. The guest chuck­
led and replied:
"The trumpet. After two weeks, when his furlough had ended, my
brother returned to his unit, and I never had the privilege of hearing
its sound again. All those days it remained in its case under one of
the beds at the inn, where it was deposited with the rest of our
things. It never dared to come out and sound its call. The trumpet
was ashamed. "

JONear rhe heginning o f the Passover Seder, rradirion requires rhar rhe youngest
child ask four questions a hour rhe meaning of rhe ritual and irs symhols.
 5
Short Friday

S hort Friday is a tragicomic story a bout a pious provincial

Rabbi who, because he succumbs to the temptations of good
food, drink, and bonhomie, overstays his visit at a circumcision
party and as a result is forced to violate the Sabbath.
European literature and folklore are replete with anecdotes
about " straying" clergymen. Many of these are acerbic satirical
attacks upon pretres ruses ( deceitful priests) or naive and igno­
rant clerics. These attacks appeared with greatest frequency
during the Enlightenment. Other depictions of errant priests
simply reflect the good-humored reaction of believers and skep­
tics to the all-too-human foibles of country priests and Rabbis.
As a budding poet, Bialik composed several light verses
mocking the naive adulation of Hasidic holy men by their fol­
lowers. In contrast, Short Friday has been characterized as a
post-Has k a lah (Jewish enlightenment) story, devoid of any
polemical intent. Its tone is tongue-in-cheek, modulated by a
good-natured empathy with the pietistic concern of a simple
Rabbi who stumbled unwittingly. The narrator lives at a time
that is beyond the era of militant antireligious polemics. He is
able to be objective.
In a postscript to this story, Bialik notes that its contents and
" its course but not its manner of presentation were given to me
by Mr. Eliyahu Levin." He apparently had read Eliyahu Levin's
Yiddish story by the same name, p ublished in 1 8 99, about ten
years before Bialik's story appeared. Levin was a minor Yiddish

211
212 Short Friday

and Hebrew essayist who rarely wrote fiction and who pub­
lished his version of a popular Jewish folk story as a feuilleton.
Short Friday is the common term used by observant Jews to
designate the shortest Friday of the year-that is, the Friday
that falls on or nearest to the winter solstice. Orthodox Jewish
law prohibits most forms of labor on the Sabbath, including
traveling in vehicles, writing, cooking, and sewing. Only those
tasks that are necessary to preserve life are excluded from this
rigorous restriction.
The Jewish Sabbath begins on Friday evening at sunset and
concludes on Saturday night. The Rabbi meticulously observed
all the numerous regulations prescribed for the preparation of
the Sabbath. His routine is disrupted by a tempting invitation
to act as godfather at the circumcision of the grandson of an
ignorant but affluent tax collector who lived in a neighboring
village. At the festivities following the rite, the Rabbi and his
gentile driver overeat and overdrink. Finally well fed and in­
toxicated, they leave the party almost too late to arrive home
before sunset. En route, disaster strikes. They both fall asleep
and their horse goes astray. When they awake it is dark­
Sabbath !
A comedy of errors ensues. Tired and half frozen, they arrive
at an inn late at night, after the Jewish innkeeper and his fam­
ily had gone to bed. Weary and conscience-stricken, the Rabbi
falls asleep. In the morning, the innkeeper is shocked at the
sight of the Rabbi still sleeping. Assuming that no Rabbi would
travel on the Sabbath, the innkeeper concludes that he had
miscalculated the date and quickly removes all signs of the
Sabbath on the assumption that it was actually Friday. When
the Rabbi awakes and sees that signs of the Sabbath are re­
moved, he assumes that he had slept through the entire
Sabbath and that it is now Sunday. He hastily dresses and de­
parts for home, only to arrive there as his congregants are
emerging from the Synagogue dressed in their Sabbath best.
Using the raw material of Levin's version, Bialik recasts the
anecdote into a delightful comic vignette. The reader will note
the skillful interplay of sacred and profane themes: the Rabbi
leaves his home to attend the ceremony "splendidly arrayed in
clothes that are a mix of the sacred and the profane." The
Ra bbi's attempt to enjoy the best of two worlds is doomed to
Short Friday 213

failure. Bialik's description of the postci rcumcision feast also

reminds us of the feast at the housewarming party thrown by
Big Harry and its dismal end, as well as the more modest but
hilarious post-Sabbath party celebrated in The Shamed
Trumpet.
Short Friday presents a rich portrait of Jewish life in a
Volhynian town and its array of types: the country Rabbi, the
tax farmer, the butcher, the innkeeper, and the gentile peasants
employed by them. To infer, as do several commentators, that
the story also has a serious message-namely, that any attempt
to mix Jewish religiosity with the pleasures of the senses is
bound to fail-can hardly be taken seriously.
 1

If on an ordinary Friday there is not a moment to lose, how much

more so on Shon Friday. On Shon Friday you dare not be slack.
Slackness of any son may cause you to desecrate the Sabbath, God
forbid. Satan is particularly out to snare you at such a perilous time.
No wonder; then, if the Rabbi, Reb Lippa, long may he live (a frail
and timid Jew), would try from first light to steal a march on Shon
Friday. He was very severe with himself, very fearful about being
thrown off schedule even by an hour and disrupting his routine for
the day.
And do not make light of Reb Lippa's routine. Figure it out for
yourself: the midnight Tikkuns, including Tikkun Rachel and Iikkun
Leah, Psalms, and Maamadot, recitations and supplementary prayers
before and after the morning service, the service itself, studying se­
lected chapters from the Mishnah, a lesson of Talmud. two or three
sections of the Shui/:Jan Arukh, and closing with the assigned weekly
Torah reading in both the original Hebrew and its Aramaic transla­
tion. All this for the sake of heaven, and now come the duties toward
oneself, namely food and refreshment. What can one do? We are, af­
ter aU, flesh and blood and have to eat. Then in the afternoon there is
a whole order of other things to do: taking a ritual bath, clipping
one's nails, grinding snuff for the Sabbath. and so on. There sriU re­
mained the adjudication of religious law and. sometimes, a litigation.
People do tend to quarrel on Fridays. Before you realize it, the day is
over! Before you tum right or left, sunset arrives!
No wonder; then, that Rabbi Lippa girded himself like a lion and
rose with first light on Shon Friday. Immediately after the ritual
washing of his hands, he hastened to begin his chores. May he
succeed in accomplishing all he has set out to do! He is very meticu­
lous about not wasting a single moment. From rime to rime, he casts
a glance at the antique clock hanging on the wall opposite him,
deeply concerned that he might fail to fulfill one of the requirements
of the daily routine and find himself entering the Sabbath befuddled,
God forbid.

214
Short friday 21 )

But as our sages said long ago, " Everything depends on luck . "
And against bad luck, intelligence, good counsel, and dil igence are
clearly of no avail. Now listen to this hair-raising talc.

After Rabbi Lippa had finished all his preliminary prayers at dawn
and had begun preparing his soul for the morning service, his door
suddenly creaked open, and a cloud of vapor entered his house, ac­
companied by a gentile.
"What brings him to my door so early ? " the Rabbi wondered,
somewhat taken aback and shrinking as a blast of cold air entered
his home.
The gentile leaned his whip against the doorpost, removed his
gloves, reached into his pouch, and drew out a folded, crushed, and
soiled letter, which he handed to the Rabbi. The Rabbi finished
reading the letter and shrugged his shoulders.
"The devil's doing . . . " he pondered. Reb Getzi, the wealthy tax
farmer living in the neighboring village, had invited him to a cir­
cumcision: " Since he" . . . so the letter stated . . . " since he, Reb
Getzi, is about to enter his first grandson, his eldest daughter's first­
born, into the covenant of Father Abraham, he therefore, wishes to
honor him ( i .e., the Rabbi, long life to him) to act as the child's god­
father. His reverence must take the trouble to come down to the vil­
lage-immediately. The sleigh sent for him i s waiting for him."
Reb Getzi's handwriting was not, begging your pardon, very ele­
gant. A reader must decipher it slowly. On this occasion, however,
he was clever enough to append three adequate explanatory " foot­
notes" to the letter. The first: a new three-ruble banknote, enclosed
in an envelope ( " money talks " ) , which was passed immediately
from hand to hand-that is, from the gentile's hand to the Rabbi's
( pardon the comparison) . The second: a sack full of large potatoes,
alongside of which was tied a gobbling, fattened gander. This hand­
some pair was taken off the sleigh by the maid and put in the
kitchen. And the third, to make things clearer: a warm, ample fur
coat and a pair of felt boots, taken from Reb Getzi's own winter
wardrobe, so that the Rabbi, long may he l i ve, might wrap u p
snugly in them a n d keep warm en route.
216 Short Friday

These three explanatory " footnotes" immedi;�tely appealed to the

Rabbi, and with his quick wit he at once grasped the importance of
the proposal.
" What, what to do ? " sighed the Rabbi. " Certainly this was
God's will, a circumcision, such an important pious occasion . "
. . . Nevertheless, better consult the Rebbitzin.
Rabbi Lippa went into the Rebbitzin's room, did what he had to
do, tarrying there as long as he had to, and then emerged dressed in
a white Sabbath caftan and a Sabbath robe, ready for the road.
Here, i n the first room, he wrapped himself i n the overcoat Reb
Getzi had sent him, pulled the yellow felt boots over his black shoes,
donned his Sabbath headgear over his yarmulke, tied the messen­
ger's red belt around his hips-and dressed elegantly in these
clothes, an odd mixture of sacred and profane, Rabbi Lippa rose,
kissed the mezuzah, and left his home.
The sleigh standing before the house was large and heavily
padded with hay. Rabbi Lippa mounted it and sat down comfort­
ably, as if he owned the sleigh. The gentile covered the Rabbi's legs
with straw; he too mounted the sleigh and seated himself. One whis­
tle, and the sleigh was gliding over the snow.

The road was good and smooth. The mare was swift. It was as if the
journey was miraculously shortened . . . . An hour later, before the
sun had risen, the Rabbi had arrived at the village and reached the
home of the celebrants.
The guests had already assembled. After a glass of hot tea, every­
body rose, and forming a q uorum, recited morning prayers. A
butcher who had come to the village by chance to purchase a few
calves turned out to have a good voice and was invited to lead the
service. His Hebrew was a little imperfect. He confused the prayer
referring to winter with the one referring to summer, but this was no
serious matter. Finally the worshipers concluded with the Aleinu,
ending their prayers peacefully. The rite of circumcision began in
good spirits.
The infant, wrapped in his diapers, was brought in and passed
from hand to hand: the mother's uncle passed him to the father's un­
cle, he to the cousin, who passed him to the paternal grandfather,
Short Friday 217

and he to the maternal grandfather, and so forth, until he rea�.:hed

the lap of the godfather. They performed what had ro he done . . .
and afterwards the crimson little body, whose arms and legs where
tightly bound and who was bawling and writhing all over, wa � lifred
and passed from hand to hand until he was returned to his mother's
breast. Then his �.:rying abated somewhat.
And now we come to the main event: the festival mea l.
Reb Getzi was indeed a genial and gracious host, even under ordi­
nary circumstances. Now that God had kept him al ive and granted
him the good fortune to see a grandchild, his eldest da ughter's first
boy, he was even more so. Quite naturally this was a royal feast!
Fish, as Scripture says, sea monsters! Meat-an entire calf! A dozen
geese and three stuffed turkeys. Needless to say, there were all kinds
of side dishes, such as stuffed gullet, fried breasts, tongues, gizzards,
and their like, all sorts of tidbits, and turnips, those famous pickled
turnips!
We shall now stop talking about the dishes and focus upon the
various beverages. Reb Getzi, you should know, is an unassuming
Jew, without any pretentions. When you say " brandy," you mean
brandy, plain and simple, not less than 95 percent proof and, of
course, aged, that i s to say, brandy that had been stored in his cellar
for years. Do you follow me? The brandy had been stored from the
beginning in honor of the first grandson, who was destined to arrive
at some future date. " Come now, Rabbi, you must drink one more
glass, this tiny jigger-full." Getzi thrust a tall gill-sized glass into the
Rabbi's hand: " Come on, drink up, Rabbi, don't be afraid ! Do you
think this is brandy, not at all, it is pure olive oil! It pours into the
glass soundlessly. It's really olive oil, as my name is Getzi. Come
now. Le-/:Jayim, Rabbi, le-/:Jayim. "
Getzi was high. His fat, hairy jowls were aflame and glistened like
the burnished samovar; his eyes were steeped in fat. From time to
time, he would thump on his heart with one of his fingers and mut­
ter to himself thick-tonguedly: " You know, Getzi, from now on
you're an old man . . . you're a grandpa, you hear. Ha, ha, ha,
you've become a grandpa. And what's your wife?-she's a grandma.
Where are you, grandmama? Come here. Grandpa wants to drink a
le-/:Jayim with you. Come, come. Don't be embarrassed, the Rabbi
will say, 'Amen,' won't you, Ra-Rabbi ? "
A t this point Reb Getzi grabbed the Rabbi b y his arm, grasped his
shoulder tightly, shaking i t like a bag of potatoes, then suddenly
218 Short Friday

threw himself on his neck and began to k iss. him passionately.

Overcome with both joy and pleasure, he laughed and cried simul­
taneously, delighted at the honor. " Heh, heh, heh, the honor that
Rabbi Lippa, long may he live, had done him, to him, to Getzi; by
God, the honor. Were it not for the Rabbi, long may he live, my, my,
my! Nu, nu, enough, le-bayim. " Rabbi Lippa soothed the weeping
Getzi and cautiously took a gulp from the glass: "Le-bayim! Why
all this crying? There's no need to cry, no need."
Reb Getzi is consoled and wipes a tear off his cheek with his
sleeve. "The Rabbi is right, as my name is Getzi. There's no need to
cry, no need, only le-/:Jayim and le-/:Jayim once again! Indeed le­
/:Jayim, that's to say a real le-bayim, le-/:Jayim! Here's to a decent liv­
ing." At this point, Getzi began to cry again profusely: "Oy oy, a de­
cent living. "
Rabbi Lippa, who was by nature a weak and timorous man, could
not abide the suffering of his host and, therefore, as an act of sincere
sympathy, ate another morsel and another.
In the meantime, the sun began to set; it was a short Friday. Rabbi
Lippa, who was also slightly in his cups, had indeed bestirred himself
once or twice, trying to rise from the table and stand on his unsteady
legs: " Eh, eh, eh," he argued, stretching his arms and muttering,
"Sabbath Eve, the shortest day . . . " But Reb Getzi would not hear of
it. He grabbed him with both hands and refused to let him go.
At the same time, Ivan, the wagon driver, sat serenely in the
kitchen and also enjoyed eating a festive meal. He took pleasure in
the fact that the proper rituals were performed over the tender baby.
In joyful celebration, he downed one shot after another; one, two,
three . . . .
Just then the grandfather clock struck three. Rabbi Lippa in great
haste tore himself away from the table and rose. But the legs were
not at all in a hurry. He stood up, wrapped himself doubly in the
bear coat and the sheepskin, put on the red girdle, and inserted two
feet in the felt boots. Once again his legs did not respond at all.
Instead of dislodging himself, the heavily clad Rabbi Lippa suddenly
bumped against a bench, and he found himself sprawled in the mid­
dle of the house. Rabbi Lippa tried to move his body. " Eh, eh, eh,"
but in va in. He was unable to budge.
The "oil," which had entered his bones, performed its function.
But Rabbi Lippa was not at all distressed. On the contrary, he was
in jolly good spirits, and whenever his body tried to force him to
Short Friday 2 1 '1

move by stretching his hand and wiggling his fingers, his mouth
would chuckle in a thin chirping voice, chuckling and muttering,
" Ha, ha, ha, Reb Getzi, the feet . . . " " Ha, ha," laughed all the
guests as well, "the Rabbi . . . "
Finally, with the aid of Him who giveth strength to the weary and
a few of the guests, the heavily clad body was dislodged, and the
two handsome creatures, Rabbi Lippa, long may he live, and his es­
cort, Ivan, pardon the comparison, seized an opportune moment.
Each assisting and supporting the other, they climbed up and
mounted the sleigh unharmed.
Once again our Rabbi sat comforta bly inside the wagon, his body
wrapped and his legs covered. And once again, Ivan sat in the dri­
ver's seat. A loud, jolly whistle, and the mare lifted her legs. . . .
And now we reach the main part of our story.

As the sleigh took off, the Rabbi snuggled deeply into his fur coat
and was suddenly swept by a warm, pleasant feeling, sweet as
honey, which spread through all his limbs. His eyelids were heavy
with sleep, and his head began to nod. "Ha, ha, ha, the oil, " the
Rabbi smiled inwardly, feeling as if there were grains of sand in his
eyes. " Pure olive oil . . . " And as soon as the wagon crossed the little
bridge outside the village, he fell into a deep sleep.
Ivan, the gentile, was still sitting at this time in the driver's seat,
having a friendly conversation with his mare. He promised her any
n umber of goodies later on if only she would follow a straight path
and not deviate. While still talking to her in this fashion, both his
whip and reins slipped from his hands and his sheepskin hat slid to
his coat. In a moment, he, too, was snorting like a pig.
The mare, sensing that she was now free, immediately forgot her
master's admonitions and sweet promises for the future. When she
reached a crossroads, she hesitated for a moment, as if considering
which way to turn: here or there. Suddenly she p ulled the sleigh
with all her strength and turned, as a compromise, neither here nor
there, but took a middle road leading to the fields.
The day meanwhile clouded and darkened. Wet snow fell in abun­
dance, confusing the world and blurring the roads. The mare
started, it would seem, to wonder whether she had acted impulsively
220 Short Friday

and began to repent, but as she could not see very well, she tried to
correct her error by abandoning herself to heaven. She continued
walking in the dark, sadly, her ears aslope, pacing slowly, as if with
closed eyes, on pile upon pile of snow and tangles of thorns, drag­
ging the sleigh and its contents behind her. . . . Who knows where
the mare would have gone had she not stumbled? The sleigh cap­
sized. Our two travelers awoke in great fright, lying on a pile of
snow, and found themselves surrounded by utter darkness.
"What happened ? " the Rabbi wondered as he wriggled out of the
snow. Suddenly he remembered everything that had occurred. It was
as if a heavy ax had struck his head: " How could it be? Sabbath! "
The Rabbi wanted to utter a loud and bitter cry-but was unable
to. His entire being had collapsed and frozen i nto a frightful
thought formed by that single word, "Sabbath! "
When his power of speech was partially restored-a roar rose of it­
self. " Ivan! Oh, woe ! " This roar burst from the depths of his heart,
expressed in the only three words our Rabbi knew of the language of
the uncircumcised; they were accompanied by a bitter shout, a plea
for mercy, a fear of God, a resignation to His j udgment, a regret and
complaint, and many other feelings that words could not express.
While all this was happening, Ivan stood cursing as he tended to
the capsized sleigh and its tangled reins. From time to time, he
kicked the belly of the scraggy mare, reminding her of the sins of her
fathers and mothers through a thousand generations. Upon finish­
ing the repairs, he invited the " Rabin" to mount. The Rabbi lifted
his eyes to the night. From whence cometh help? None came.
For a moment it occurred to him that he should not move from
this spot. Come what may, he must spend the night in the field and
observe the Sabbath right here. Better to perish than to transgress
the commandment. Were there not many "tales" about pious and
righteous men who found themselves on the road when the holy
Sabbath had arrived ? The story about Ariel is proof enough. " Did
not God appoint a lion to guard that pious man in the desert until
Havdalah?" But when Rabbi Lippa looked once again at the dark­
ness of the night, his eyes discerned something looking like a real
forest, full of loud noises and the wail of storms. As we all know too
well, any forest is considered to be fra ught with danger, full of ban­
dits and wild beasts.
To the left stretched a desolate field entirely covered with white
shrouds. Out of the snow rose all sorts of golems and threatening
Sh"rt Friday 22 1

objects, a mixture of black and white. They looked like gravestones.

Only God knows who they were: demons, beasts, ghosts, or j ust
tangles of brambles . . . from every corner and every side, packs of
panthers and dens of vipers all about, all ready to attack him out of
the dark.
"No," mused Rabbi Lippa, having changed his mind. " Saving a
life supersedes the laws of the Sabbath. 'He shall live by them,' and
not die by them. 1 One must never rely on miracles. And who knows
whether I am deserving of miracles ? "
Rabbi Lippa imagined a huge and terrible panther confronting
him, with eyes shooting sparks at him and with crooked, snarling
teeth. Rabbi Lippa's skin crept and his eyes froze.
" No, no, no ! " the Rabbi decided, seized by a deathly fear and
chattering teeth. He remounted the sleigh. "In truth, and by the pro­
foundest understanding of the law, I am not at all obligated to sacri­
fice my life in this situation. On the contrary, traveling on the
Sabbath i s only a later Rabbinic prohibition, not derived from
Scripture."
Rabbi Lippa i n the meantime found himself sitting in the wagon,
but sighing and groaning, he tried to sit in an a bnormal position­
so that traveling in this fashion would at least belong to the cate­
gory of change.2
The sleigh wended its way through the dark and slippery snow.
Depressed and contrite, Rabbi Lippa whispered the prayers greeting
the Sabbath, but his heart was broken and depressed . . . .
May you, wayfarer, never experience such a fate. The winter fil­
tered through Rabbi Lippa's eyes like a stream. The poor mare was
so exhausted that she was barely able to walk. The sleigh bounced
along upon the rutted road, causing Rabbi Lippa's broken body to
bounce with it. H i s bones were a lmost scattered a long the way.
Wide-branched and laden with heavy snow, the ancient oak trees
passed before h i s eyes. They were a ngry and condemned him
silently. The tangled oak bushes, the smaller minions of the forest,
whose pointed tops were capped with snow, stared at him amazed.
" Who is this Rabbi Lippa, the town's chief religious leader, who

1Scriptural basis, which permitted the violation of the law in case of possible loss
of life. Leviticus 1 8 :5.
2Category of change, since the act is not a normal act, under Tal m udic law it
might nor be considered a form of traveling.
222 Short Friday

dares to ride on the Sabbath ? " Thorns and thistles lowered their
heads in shame; the wind was sobbing: "Oy, oy"-at this profana­
tion of the Sabbath, "oy, oy, " at this shaming of the Torah.

At midnight, the sleigh finally arrived at a wayside inn covered in

snow up to its windows. The dead-tired mare exuded vapor and
frost. The travelers were battered and exhausted. The Rabbi's
beard, earlocks, mustache, and overcoat collar had frozen into a
single icy mass. No one could proceed beyond this point. An old
gentile, the inn's attendant, came out toward them. The Rabbi de­
scended and entered the inn, while the wagon disappeared inside the
courtyard gate.
The room he entered was cold and desolate and lit by the dim light
of a small and sooty storm-lamp. From the adjacent room came the
snoring of the innkeeper. Two copper candlesticks stood on the table,
holding stumps of burned-out candles. The thick, hand-woven table­
cloth was covered with crumbs and bones, the remains of the Sabbath
meal. Rabbi Lippa turned his face away so as not to look at the table.
Stiff with cold and weighed down by his heavy clothes, he threw him­
self on a bare, hard bench before his strength gave out, and buried his
head inside the collar of his overcoat.
"So, he, the Rabbi has violated the Sabbath, what a terrible profa­
nation of God's name! How could he show his face tomorrow?
How could he face j udgment day? The shame of it! " Tears flowed
from the Rabbi's eyes. His earlocks, beard, and mustache also
dripped water. The Rabbi's head and limbs weighed heavily upon
him. He tried to move but was unable to do so. "Was it possible
that the hour of death had arrived ? " The Rabbi was seized by a
mortal terror and his teeth chattered. " Yes, this was death. The time
had come to say confession . . . .
" His lips began to whisper the confession on their own: " Oy, oy,
Merciful and gracious God, long suffering and full of loving kind­
ness. Please, please God, have mercy upon me. 0 Master of the
World, forgive and pardon a man who is but flesh and blood, a
maggot, a worm . . . ! I have indeed sinned, erred, and transgressed
. . . but these lambs of mine, my wife and my children, what sin
have they performed ? "
Short Friday 223

The unfortunate man had not slept for more than a day. His
whole body was drenched in cold sweat, and his bones felt as if they
were on fire. His mind wandered feverishly. He recited strange bibli­
cal verses in a whisper, combining them with random excerpts from
the Mishnah, verses from the Pentateuch, quotations of the Rabbis,
prayers, and petitions-it was a sort of a " Tikkun for Shavuot."
Thoughts a bout Heaven, reward and punishment, Hell and
Paradise, the torments of the grave, and the angel of death raced
through his distraught brain and were mixed with his domestic con­
cerns: a widow, orphans, a daughter of marriageable age, the loss of
his Rabbi's hereditary rights, the yeast tax . . . .
These worries tortured the poor Rabbi, as he sighed and groaned
until dawn. At sunrise he fell into the deep but confused sleep of a
tortured soul-breathing heavily in short gasps.

At the very hour that Rabbi Lippa was stretched out on the desolate
inn's bench, wrapped in his overcoat, entirely bathed in sweat and
wet from the melting snow that once had covered his beard and ear­
locks, and wracked by bad dreams and asleep--t he good Lord was
sitting i n Heaven, busy with his own tasks: causing the roosters to
crow and rolling away the darkness before the light. As soon as the
cock crowed and a pale, a ngry, and freezing winter dawn's light
penetrated the house through its frost-covered window, Feibke the
innkeeper sneezed, belched, and awoke from his sleep. He leaped
from his bed, laced on his heavy boots, flung his short overcoat over
his shoulders, and entered the large room to see who had come to
h i s i n n at n ight. Upon entering, he looked and turned to stone.
Before him stretched out on the bench lay the Rabbi, Rabbi Lippa,
fully clad in his overcoat.
At first he thought this must be a piece of witchcraft, the devil's
doing. He bent and took a second look, carefully examining what
he saw. He glanced u p and down and sideways-"As I l i ve and
breathe, the Rabbi! It's him! With his shofar-shaped nose and that
gizzardlike face! "
Feibke started like a mad man. "What's this, it's the Sabbath and
. . . the Rabbi . . . am I drunk or crazy? " All of a sudden he struck
his head with his fist. "Oh Feibke, son of Ham, there must be some
224 Short Friday

mistake, an ugly mistake. You've made a mistake i n counting the

days. Feibke, yes indeed, Feibke, you have been snared. Woe to you,
and woe upon you. Living as you do with Esau, and because of your
many sins, you've confused the calendar. My, my, a fine thing you
have done, a fine affair, as I am a Jew. . . . Tomorrow the whole
town will know about it . . . . Ugh. "
Once Feibke understood h i s dilemma, h e immediately hurried to
erase all signs of the Sabbath from his home. First, he removed the
copper candlesticks from the table, then the remnants of the
Sabbath meal and the white tablecloth. He then dashed into the
bedroom and hastily made h i s fam i l y get out of bed. " H urry,
hurry, you unclean corpses; oh, oh, there's going to be a plague
here . "
"Who's here, what's happened ? " H i s wife woke up in panic.
" Go to hell, you dumb animal. Shut up. Get up at once and take
the cholent out of the oven. "
For a moment his wife did not know what her husband was talk­
ing about, but when he explained things clearly to her with a groan
and a blow of his fist-she j umped out of bed, got dressed, and
rushed to the oven.
" Everything, everything, take out everything, a plague on you,"
the husband cried. "The porridge, the pudding-pour the whole pot
into the garbage can. Don't leave a single trace ! "
In a moment, the whole scene was altered. Sabbath was over and
replaced with a weekday atmosphere. A fire burned in the big stove.
The fat samovar was loaded with burning coals and began to sizzle.
The sounds of hammer and ax were heard in the house. Yokum, the
servant, was chopping wood, fixing wedges, and hammering nails
whether they were needed or not. Feibke himself was standing bent
over the dough trough and was kneading dough with all his might.
His daughter, a tall girl of marriageable age with a plump and sooty
face, stood dazed in the middle of the house, not understa nding
what was going on. In the meantime, she had received two slaps in
the face and a pinch from her father's dough-soiled hands. She rose
and began peeling potatoes into a large pot full of water. " Peel
them, peel, a plague on you "-Feibke cried, urging her on, while he
himsel f kept kneading the dough furiously. He expected the Rabbi
to wake up at any moment, but when he finished kneading and the
Rabbi was not yet awakened, he hurried and put on his worn,
creased yarmu lke with bits of cotton pulp peering from it holes,
Short Friday 22S

bared his arm, began to put on his phylacteries, and chant the week­
day morning service aloud.
The door kept opening and dosing ceaselessly as farmers wearing
heavy coats and holding whips entered and left. The house filled up
with snow, frost, and the smell of cheap tobacco, the odor of coat�,
the stamping of feet, and chattering.
Feibke purposely passed the Rabbi's bench, reciting his prayers
aloud, using the weekday melody: " H aleluyah, halel uyah . "
Simultaneously, he cast a sharp glance sideways at the Rabbi, the
kind that said: "Sleep, sleep my Rabbi, enjoy, now I'm no longer
worried about you . Now you may even wake up."
Indeed, at that very moment, the Rabbi moved his feeble body
slightly. " Bravo, Feibke," the innkeeper said to himself. "See to it
that you don't spoil things . " Feibke disappeared into the cloud of
cheap tobacco smoke, the motley crowd, and the pile of coats. From
there he kept his eyes on the Rabbi as he chanted his prayers in the
weekday style and in a triumphant tune, " Haleluyah, haleluyah."

Once our Rabbi awoke, all his pains awoke with him. "Oy, oy, oy,
my whole head aches, and all my bones are broken." With great dif­
ficulty, he straightened half his body and opened his eyes. "What's
going on? Where i s he? At the bathhouse? No, at the inn. Where did
the Sabbath disappear? There is no trace of the Sabbath. Farmer's
weekday noises. Look, the samovar is boiling right opposite him ! "
" If so, " a terrible thought set all his bones a tremble; his sallow
face grew even sallower. " I f so, I've slept through the entire Sabbath
day as well as Saturday night. Here, on the bench, in sight of Feibke
and the gentiles, I was lying asleep for an entire twenty-four-hour
stretch! Without Kiddush, without prayers, without Havdalah. 0
God, what have you done to Lippa ? "
A dark terror gripped the Rabbi-a terrible despair pierced his
heart. He almost fainted. God had indeed embittered his lot, beyond
all measure . . . . "Why, " his heart cried out, " tell me, God, why ? "
Out o f the cloud o f cheap tobacco smoke, Ivan emerged, whip i n
hand. "Time t o go, Rabin, the wagon is ready.''
The Rabbi rose groaning and turned h i s face to the door. He
swayed like a drunkard and cut a path with difficulty through the
226 Short Friday

crowd of peasants. At the door, Feibke's broad and gnarled palm

suddenly grasped his hand: " Good-bye R-Rabbi . " " Good-bye,
good-bye," the Rabbi withdrew rapidly. " No time . " " Good-bye,
good-bye, R-Rabbi. Go in peace, R-Rabbi, may God protect you . "
H i s departure pleased both parties, a n d neither delayed the other.
Feibke quickly slammed the door behind the fleeing Rabbi, as if to
say-"God bless you. " The Rabbi mounted the sleigh with alacrity.
"Tally ho, Ivan, Ivan," the Rabbi urged Ivan on.
Why all the rush? to flee ? where to? The Rabbi himself did not
know how to answer these questions, but at that time Rabbi Lippa
was not inclined to ask any questions or probe very much.
Whatever he did seemed to be done automatically, unconsciously,
and without reckoning. He asked for one thing, prayed for it with
all his heart: "0 God in heaven, perform a miracle on my behalf.
Let the road extend for thousands and thousands of miles, let years
pass, hundred of years-and j ust let me travel, travel, travel. And if
I am unworthy of such a miracle, take my soul. 0 God in Heaven,
pardon me everything-and take my soul . " . . .
However, Rabbi Lippa's prayer was unheeded. The sleigh carried
him on eagle's wings. The polished and slippery road speeded his way.
Following the cloudy night, a winter sun rose. The white earth
glistened gaily. Crows pecking along the road cleared a path for the
flying sleigh, greeting it with their hoarse cries: " Caw, Caw, Caw. "
Rabbi Lippa felt ashamed facing the crows, the brilliance of the
sun, the whiteness of the snow. He buried his head again inside his
coat collar and relapsed into thoughts of despair. From then on and
beyond, he no longer saw, heard, or felt anything. He placed his
soul in the hands of the God of all spirits and his shattered body in
the hands of the racing sleigh! " Come what may ! "

At midday, as the congregation of the townlet emerged from the

Synagogue, walking calmly and in Sabbath majesty along the sides
and in the middle of the road, while everyone wished his neighbor,
" S habbat Shalom " (a peaceful Sabbath), at that very moment a
light, speeding sleigh emerged from the alleyway toward them, and
in it-what a dreadful sight-the Rabbi, Reb Lippa.
 6
The Legend of
the Three and Four

Cfh e Legend of the Three and Four1 is the most important work
written by Bialik after he left Russia in 1 922. It belongs to the
same genre as "The Scroll of Fire," a prose poem composed in
1 905. Both works are based upon ancient Rabbinic legends.
Their theme is akin to that of the medieval European legends
about the quest for the holy grail-the symbol of salvation.
"The Scroll of Fire" utilizes and refines several Jewish legends
about the heavenly fire once used on the altar of the Temple in
Jerusalem, which was salvaged and hidden in a cave in a distant
land. Once the Temple is rebuilt, so the legend goes, the fire will
be returned to the altar. Bialik transfers the hiding place to a
mountain crag and introduces a devout youth who sets off in a
quest to recover the fire in order to hasten the promised
restoration ( i .e., salvation). He finally reaches the fire but can­
not hold onto it. It tumbles into the abyss of perdition, and he
is cast into eternal exile. The Legend of the Three and Four has
its source i n a Midrash2 about King Solomon's daughter, who
was enclosed by him in a high tower on a remote island to pro­
tect her from unsuitable lovers. She is rescued by a daring

1 Second Version.
2 " 1ntroduction," Midrash Tanbuma, ed. S. Buber, ( New York: Sefer, 1 946
[ 1 8 8 5]), p. 1 36 .

227
228 The Legend of the Three and Four

youth who comes from afar and with superhYman effort man­
ages to scale the tower and conquer her heart.
Bialik first published a reworked version of this Midrash i n
1 9 1 7.3 It was reissued several times a n d later reentitled The
Legend of the Three and Four-First Version. " Although the
second version is also based on the Tanhuma source, it is a sep­
arate work-a highly sophisticated, semiallegorical modern
short story.
Bialik was an avid admirer of the Aggadah, the nonlegal por­
tions of the Rabbinic literature consisting of a rich repository
of legends, aphorisms, anecdotes, and so on. He coedited a
brilliant compendium of the Aggadic material, which itself be­
came a classic of Hebrew literature.4 He also evinced a pro­
found interest in medieval Jewish folklore and drew upon it for
many of his charming children's stories. However, his was not
an antiquarian obsession. He believed that this rich lode of leg­
ends should be mined, refined by an aesthetic sensibility, and
recast to fit the needs of contemporary readers. He stressed
that it should also serve as a source for symbols, plots, and lit­
erary models for modern Hebrew authors.
"There is an absolute need to secularize the Aggadah, to de­
tach it from its (exclusively) sacred atmosphere, to expose it to
the open air, and include it in our modern literature." He sug­
gested that throughout Jewish history the Aggadah had been
redesigned and revised to respond to the cultural needs of gen­
eration after generation: " Its interpreters often ignored the
original context of these materials, not because they thought
lightly of them, but used them as a compost from which to
raise new plants, elevating their contents to a higher sphere." 5
He deliberately chose to fashion a new Hebrew style for both
"The Scroll of Fire" and The Legend of the Three and Four, re­
jecting a purely biblical style because he felt that it had been
overused and had lost its vitality. Instead he forged a lyrical

1"The Princess and Her Mate," Ha-Am, July 7, 1 9 1 7.

4The English translation of this work is The Book of Legends. trans. William L.
Braude (New York: Schocken, 1 992).
1Hayyim Nahman B i a l i k , Devarim Shebaal Peh, Vol. I I . Tel Aviv: Dvir, 1 935.
Pp. 69.
The Legend of the Three and !'our

prose style "that was . . . at least an octave higher. . . . I do not

recall similar phrasing in Hebrew (l iterature) ever being em­
ployed before. " 6
He claimed that he used

the same rhythms and forms l found l in our an:haic poetry and
carefully avoided l the current! biblical style Iand i , at ti mes, used
Talmudic phrasing that was consistent with the tone and rhythms
of this style . . . . An option was created to write about very deli­
cate and modern matters in a very ancient Hebrew. . . . Perhaps
this is the best instrument for writing about . . . matters that
could not be grasped by the standard linguistic instruments that
had been hitherto used.

But for all of their similarity, the two works are decidedly
different. "The Scroll of Fire" is steeped in despair; the young
hero reaches the flame only to drop it into the swirling sea. On
the other hand, Netanyah, the protagonist of The Legend of
the Three and Four, after much anguish, penetrates the tower,
wins the princess, and the two return triumphantly to celebrate
their marriage in Jerusalem at King Solomon's court.
A major theme in both works involves the attempt to recon­
cile tradition with modernity, Judaism with European culture,
Jew with gentile. In the prose poem the attempt is a tragic fail­
ure. In our story it is a success. Bialik replaced Solomon's
daughter with a gentile princess. Ketziyah is the daughter of
the King of Amon. Netanyah is a d iaspora Jew. Their en­
counter i n the land of Israel is a triumph.
The emerald carried by Netanyah as a gift to the Temple in
Jerusalem was a gem that once belonged to his dead mother. It
is sewn on the curtain of the Holy of Holies. The first emerald,
which symbolizes tears, orphanhood, tragedy, and suffering, is
placed alongside a second emerald, the wedding gift that King
Solomon gave to Ketziyah, as a symbol of joy and integration.
The story can be read on several levels. It is a beautiful ro­
mance a bout two young people who overcome all obstacles
and consummate their love. It can also be understood as an

6Jbid., Vol. I, p. 25.

230 The Legend of the Three and Four

Erziehungsroman ( a novel of education). Young Netanyah

ventures out of his home, breaking first with his father and
then with his old mentor. Shipwrecked Netanyah is tossed into
the stormy sea but survives the mishap, sailing on a raft. The
raft ( his mother's womb) is made of two wineskins that sustain
h i m " li ke an infant between h i s mother's breasts. " He i s
wrenched out of the sea by a white eagle (good fortune, ideals,
hope) and cast upon a barren island. There he discovers the
tower and the oak tree (masculinity) and finally the girl, with
whom he immediately falls in love: " Am I not her redeemer?"
While pondering how he can enter the tower, he falls asleep
and dreams that he is again afloat, tied between the two wine­
skins. Suddenly he spies a woman rising from the sea, wearing
a crown with a shining emerald. It is his mother. He cries out
to her, but she cannot hear him. He tries to move, but his body
and arms are bound to the wineskins. Suddenly the bonds
loosen, but his mother disappears into the depths. At this point
he discovers the snake, a recurrent symbol in Bialik's works,
representing the libido, the animal instincts. The snake seizes
and holds the " holy emerald" in " his disgusting mouth." Now
his mother's image reappears to him " p ure and lustrous as she
had been before. " But she was not alone, " accompanied by an­
other figure . . . younger than she. On her head is a garland of
white lilies." The emerald is no longer on his mother's forehead
nor in the snake's mouth but adorns the young woman's fore­
head. The two women clasp each other's hands. The transfer­
ence had occurred from his mother to his beloved. The snake,
too, turns out to be the guide who will ultimately assist him to
get to the tower and to his bride-to-be. The libido is not only a
negative phenomenon; it can also lead one to mature love.
Ketziyah also matures, changes from the lonely, frightened
little girl who tearfully longed for her father. She is no longer
the woman-child who toys with the parrot. She is ripe for love
and ready when Netanyah penetrates the tower.
A good part of The Legend of the Three and Four was writ­
ten in Germany, where the Bialiks took the waters in 1 929.
Bialik was also making a statement against international ha­
tred and the rising Nazi tide, perhaps even the ultranationalism
of some Palestinian Jews. The whole tone of the story is a plea
for reconciliation and rationality.
The l.egend of the Three and four 2.1 1

For Bia lik, in accord with Jewish tradition, King Solomon

represented moderation and wisdom. He ruled over Israel dur­
ing a golden age and, in contrast to his father, Ki ng David, de­
sisted from war, maintaining peaceful relations with his neigh­
bors. He earned the privi lege of being the builder of the Holy
Temple.
Some Bialik scholars suggest that the cordial relationships
between the aging king and Netanyah's father and the young
couple also represented Bialik's own views about the so-called
conflict of generations, which was raging at the rime in
Hebrew letters, focused as it was against Bialik's dominant role
as elder statesman. Others believe that it was a veiled criticism
of the ultranationalist Zionist parties who chal lenged Chaim
Weizmann's leadership of the World Zionist Movement.
Intergenerational conflicts, the story seems to say, can be re­
solved through wisdom and tolerance.
The two works also differ aesthetically. "The Scroll of Fire "
is loosely constructed. Bialik admitted that it was a mosaic
held together by the story frame and by a unifying rhythm. The
Legend of the Three and Four ( Second Version) is a straight
and tightly knit narrative-its many subtexts are skillfully inte­
grated and yet demand the active participation of the reader in
fathoming its many implications.
 1

There are three things that are beyond my ken and four which I
do not know. The way of the eagle in the sky, the way of the
serpent on the rock, the way of a ship in the heart of the sea,
and the way of a man with a maid.
-Proverbs 30:1 8-20

One day King Solomon prepared a grand banquet in his palace.

All the kings of the East and the West came to the banquet: the
King of Aram, the King of Tyre, the Kings of Amon and Moab, and
all the rest of the kings, great and small and smaller still. Foremost
among them was the mighty King of Egypt. All the kings arrived
with their ministers, their greatest sages, and their magicians. Each
brought with him his hidden thoughts. Some came to the banquet
sincerely and with an honest wish to see the wisest of kings in all
his glory and to honor themselves by honoring him, others as dis­
semblers, flatterers, and scoffers, and still others with masked envy
and with many evil schemes.
Now Solomon's table was laden with all the del icacies of the
world. Nothing that the human heart desired or the human eye
sought was lacking. The guests ate, drank, and made merry-yet
their eyes were watchful, as if they were waiting in ambush.
After they ate their fill, the king, as was his custom, took them
into the palace garden so that they might stroll under the shelter of
its shade and entertain one another with witty talk, parables, po­
etry, and ancient riddles, in accordance with God's gift of grace to
Solomon.
The king's garden was indeed very large. Numberless were its de­
lights and splendors. All God's primeval trees were assembled there,
and beds of magnificent flowers and the choicest of herbs crowned
it with beauty. All day long, the garden resounded with the sweet
and cheerful singing of birds of all colors. Gushing fountains sprin­
kled their limpid waters without, ceaselessly splattering them like

232
The Legend of the Three and four 2B

crystal against basins of pure ma rble, a n d seemed to revive and

loosen the tongues of all the garden 's secret corners with this sweet
tumult. Glass and crystal pendants and bells of gold and agate with
pearl-like tongues hung like jewels on the foliage of the trees. The
quiet breeze had only to touch them gently to set them tinkli ng,
softly delighting the ear. The tinklings blended with the rustling of
leaves, the murmurings of fountains, and the chirping of birds into
a single glorious, divine chorus that was sweet to the listening ear.
The guests, seeing all this magnificence, were as if dream-struck.
When Solomon broke the silence with words of wisdom, everyone
put aside his petty connivings and his devious plottings. All eyes
were suddenly fastened upon Solomon's lips. Everyone became to­
tally entranced . Such was the magic of Solomon's tongue that it
won the ears and minds of the listeners.
Solomon led his guests to a thick and leafy fig tree, which was en­
tirely intertwined with sumptuous vines. He had them seated upon
carpets of many colors around a limpid pool. The king's servants,
handsome youths from Ethiopia, Saba, and Kedar, beautifully
shaped and clear-eyed, were adept and fleet. They hastened to re­
spond swiftly to every flicker of the guests' eyes, serving all sorts of
refreshing wines and fruit j u ices in gold or crystal goblets, and they
circulated silver baskets laden with every delectable fruit, to the de­
light of the guests.
Solomon sat at the head of the table. His face glowed with divine
wisdom; his mouth was a fountain of understanding. On that day,
he told parables a bout birds, beasts, and flowers and spoke with
profound wisdom about God's ways, His providence, and all His
wondrous deeds. As the spirit descended upon him, he expounded
on the stars, the constellations, and all the heavenly host, whose go­
ings and comings were by God's command. He set their paths and
fixed their routes. Finally he also touched u pon the nature of
women, who, he averred, were God's gift bestowed upon every man
in accordance with his deeds, be they good or evil.
When the King of Tyre ( Solomon's boyhood frien d ) heard
Solomon's words, his eyes reflected a subtle smile. It was a barely
perceivable smile, sharp and thin as a needle's head. But nothing
ever escaped Solomon's eye, and he promptly remarked, "Will the
King of Tyre not tell us what he has in mind ? "
The King o f Tyre responded with a tiny imp dancing in his eyes:
" Does a wife, indeed, come from the hand of God ? I happen to
234 The Legend of the Three and Four

know a king who has a thousand women in his harem. Did God
bring them all to his bosom? "
The eyes o f all the guests turned toward the speaker, some i n an­
gry rebuke, some in fear, and others with suppressed glee: " Bravo,
King of Tyre, your needle is thin, but its sting is fierce! "
Now the King of Amon, who was forced to become Solomon's
father-in-law, recalled what his son-in-law had done to him. How he
had entered his home stealthily as a waiter and abducted his daugh­
ter Naama. With this in mind, he said: " I, too, by the life of
Milkom, cannot believe that it is the function of God Almighty to
intervene in matters of love and courtship. Are there no other mas­
ters of this calling that we are compelled to assign it to God? I do in­
deed know competent people, skilled in their craft, who have cun­
ningly stolen the hearts of foolish girls, as a thieving waiter purloins
a slice of meat from his master's pot, and who artfully enticed them
to leave their father's house. Did they not carry out this artifice
without God's help? "
The ears of the guests sharpened, their eyes shone sevenfold at
these explicit remarks. "That Amonite really cut him to the quick,
wonderful. This time Solomon's flesh was struck, not by a thin nee­
dle, but by a red hot spear. " They all sat, taut as bowstrings, await­
ing the battle's end.
Now the King of Aram, a scrawny, short man, consumed by en­
mity and jealousy, who for a long time had borne a grudge against
David's son, sensed that this was an opportunity to exact revenge.
Two tiny evil scorpions peered from his eyes as he said: "I know
more amazing things. I know a king who robbed a woman from the
bosom of his faithful servant. His son, the fruit of his sin, has suc­
ceeded him upon the throne. And I would very much like to learn to
whom did God intend to give this woman-the robbed or the rob­
ber? Or perhaps to both at the same time ? "
The arrow that was shot this time was a burnished arrow, coated
with venom. It pierced the very innards.
The King of Moab, a fleshy, heavy-tongued man whose oily face
lit up with joy upon seeing that the sluices had been opened wide,
decided that he no longer need delay nor contain his emotions.
However, before so doing, he released his heavy tongue, so like the
tongue of a buffalo, and licking his greasy lips, he disgorged ponder­
ous, rolling words one by one, as though rolling stones, and said:
"Your ancestor, Ruth the Moabite, was scion of our family's stock,
The Legend of the Three and Four 2 .l .'i

a da ughter of Moa b's ancient chiefs-was it not she who built the
house of the Ki ngs of Judah when she married Hoa z, the
Bethlehemite, a fter the death of Mahlon, son of Elimclech, the hus­
band of her youth, also a man of Judah ! Now, would that I knew
which God had twice placed the Moabites into the bosom of a man
of Judah: Kemosh, the God of Moa b, or was it the God of Judah, or
did they both collaborate ? "
Indeed, the King o f Moab was a stout man, a fat bull of a man,
yet the thrust of his horn was well aimed, right to the bel ly. His
question suited him well: thick and heavy like the pole of an olive
press, which could not be budged by seven Moabite strongmen.
All the royal guests, great, small, and smaller still, sensed the im­
pending tempest and rejoiced greatly. This was going to be fun. In
anticipation, their eyes glowed like small, gleeful torches. However,
faint of heart, they hastened to hide their glee under their eyelids
and lowered their eyes toward the carpets on which they sat.
Only the King of Egypt, the mightiest of kings, an old, angry­
looking, haughty lion, full of majesty and pride, who had come to
the banquet to bask in his son-in-law's glory alone among all the
guests, boiled like a seething cauldron upon hearing these calum­
nies. All the layers of his flesh shook with rage. His eyes flashed and
his nostrils smoked. His trembling right hand reached for the hilt of
his sword, and only with great effort did he curb his passion and
withdraw his hand: " Shall those dogs' heads insult Pharaoh's son­
in-law, the ally of the K i ng of Egypt and the husband of his daugh­
ter, and escape unpunishe d ? "
A great silence suddenly fell upon the gathering, the silence of a n
expectation too heavy t o b e borne. A l l the guests held their breath,
casting their eyes wherever they could. Their hearts felt an indefin­
able terror, as though an invisible sword was flashing over all their
heads, about to rend them at any moment.
Then suddenly the King of Egypt darkened his brow sevenfold
and cast a fearsome eye upon Solomon, as if commanding him,
"Smite them, 0 K i ng, crush their skulls ! "
Many o f the noble guests, too, k ings great and smaller and
smaller still, who had not dared to speak up against Solomon, now
suddenly awoke from their silence and each raised his eyes toward
the king, eyes of every kind: dogs' eyes and rabbits' eyes, foxes' eyes
and hyenas' eyes, snakes' eyes and monkeys' eyes, owls' eyes and
falcons' eyes. Snarling flattery, goading and craving scandal, they
236 The Legend ofthe Three and Four

said in unison, " Smite them, smite them, 0_ King, crush their
skulls ! "
But Solomon ignored them all. H e simply waited in silence until
they ceased talking. When their words were exhausted, he lifted his
head like a young, self-confident lion and said with calm majesty,
"Therefore, when my words shall be proven true, all of you-each
from his country-shall make a pilgrimage to the house that I have
built to God at Mount Zion, and there you shall bow and lick its
dust." The guests then asked, " How shall we know that your words
have proven true ? " Solomon replied: "This is what we shall do:
Everyone, myself included, shall write down the name of one of his
daughters who is a virgin of marriageable age and we shall cast lots.
The girl who shall be drawn by lot shall be placed by me on an iso­
lated island, never seen or visited by anyone. I shall command my
eagle, the white eagle of my chariot, to guard her and provide her
with food from my royal house as long as she dwells on this isolated
island. Then we shall see whether or not what I have predicted shall
happen to her in the end . "
A l l the kings said in unison, "Your good council shall prevail."
The lot was cast and it fell upon the daughter of the King of
Aram. The King of Aram was furious at the decision, for she was his
only daughter, a lovely maiden, the joy of his house, and the apple
of his eye. He was exceedingly angry and gnashed his sharp mouse­
like teeth; in his heart, he silently cursed both Solomon and his God,
but he had given his word in the presence of the other kings. He
could not retract it.
The King of Aram kept his word. After he returned home, he sent
Ketziyah, his only daughter, whom he loved, to Solomon, the King
of Judah, so that he might put his words to the test. And the King of
Aram grieved greatly for his daughter after he had sent her away
from him. He regretted his action and longed for her with concern
and compassion, for who knows what God had in store for her.

Solomon knew of a hidden island, a secret place that he had kept to

himself for many years. It was a small, isolated, and desolate island,
planted in the heart of the sea, far beyond the sailing routes plied by
ships. It was very mountainous, full of frightening, craggy hills and
The l.egend of the Three and four 217

primeval forests. No human foot had ever trod upon its soil; no
warship or trading vessel had ever entered its waters, because it was
surrounded for four hundred leagues hy dangerous rocks. No cap­
tain or crew could penetrate these perils, or if they did, none would
return. No one ever knew the location of the island except Solomon,
who had studied its topography. He had come across the island one
day as he was gliding through the skies on his magic doak drawn hy
his white eagle and had landed to explore it. He had kept this secret
to himself, to be used by him when the occasion arose. Now that the
matter of the maiden had come to hand, the hidden island seemed to
him to be the proper place in which to conceal the maiden within a
tower built for that purpose by his architects. There she might reside
until her hour of redemption should come.
The king did not delay. He chose trustworthy master architects,
the best masons, builders, carpenters, and craftsmen who worked in
wood, stone, and iron and sent them to the island with their tools,
supplying them with many provisions. There they built, in accor­
dance with his wishes, a tower at the summit of a craggy peak, fol­
lowing the design he had drawn. The king did not send his crafts­
men by boat, lest they might run aground in the perilous sea or lest
they discover a safe passage to the island. He, therefore, brought
them there by air on his flying cloak-his wondrous flying cloak. He
landed them and all their equipment on the island.
When they stood on its ground, they lifted their eyes and saw that
they had landed on a forest clearing atop a steep and precipitous hill
on the highest part of the island, a hill that was unscalable from any
side. In whatever direction they looked, mighty, thick-trunked trees
covered by heavy foliage loomed. Here Solomon had decided to
erect the tower.
After many days, the work was completed as ordered. The tower
stood prepared and designed from top to bottom in accordance
with the king's wishes. It rose on the mountaintop higher than all its
environs, above the trees of the forest, like a proud neck stretching
toward heaven. Within the tower, at its very apex, were ample living
quarters, and there was a luxurious and spacious balcony on which
the princess might walk about or recline in comfort. For the king
had commanded the bui lders that the girl's refuge be generously
built so that she not feel cramped for space and grow depressed.
The upper part of the tower had windows and lattices, which could
be opened for fresh air and sunlight, and through which the princess
238 The Legend of the Three and Four

might look out like a dove from its cote and not be bored. But the
lower part of the tower was windowless in every direction, with not
a single aperture. The outside walls were also very steep and their
surfacing was smooth. They had no projection or border, no hole,
recess, or foothold larger than an inch. Only one exit was provided
for the maiden; a small door that led from her boudoir on top of the
tower to the roof, where she could walk about freely in the cool of
the day. The tower had only a single gateway, whose door bolts and
locks were all made of cast iron.
On the appointed day when the princess was to be taken to the
tower, as agreed, all the kings, Solomon and his opponents, assem­
bled. They took Ketziyah, the daughter of the King of Aram, and
together flew upon the wondrous cloak to the island and landed on
the hill upon which the tower stood.
The travelers explored the tower from within and without,
checking its surroundings carefully from top to bottom. When they
saw that it was constructed exactly according to plan, without any
flaw or ruse, they escorted the princess up the ladder to the
boudoir, where she was to be housed. Afterwards they descended
and removed the ladder.
The princess wept bitterly when she was imprisoned. She
stretched her arms toward her father, imploring him not to aban­
don her, for she was greatly afraid. The father's heart, too, was al­
most rent to shreds at her piteous appeal . However, he repressed
his feelings, held his tongue, and hardened his heart. He was after
all a king and had given his word. Solomon saw the princess's an­
guish and, consoling her, said with compassion: "Do not weep, my
daughter, and fear not. No evil shall befall you in this tower. You
will want for nothing. My white eagle shall visit you daily and
bring you abundant and dainty delicacies from the best and tastiest
dishes prepared for my table. Birds will frequent your windows and
cheer you with song at dawn and at dusk. I have also appointed a
wondrous bird, a talk ing bird, who shall come to converse with
you from time to time and refresh your spirit. Night after night
God's very eyelids, the stars on high, will flash their signs to you;
often sweet breezes shall bear joyous tidings to you from afar, and
the sea's billows will transport your soul to the outside world. Your
youthful blood will seethe within you like new wine in a wineskin,
like a cup overflowing. When you shall ripen and bend under the
The Legend of the Three and four 2 19

burden of your yearnings, your lover and redeemer shall come ro

you suddenly, al though you do not as yet kn ow hy which way.
Then he shall untie your bonds in a moment and free you from this
tower. "
Thus the king in his wisdom comforted the princess, and the
more he continued to console her, the more her anxieties waned,
until she was once again completely serene. She dried her tears and
said: "This is my fate and I shall bear it. 0 my King. Do with me
whatever you please. "
The kings left the tower; the gate was shut behind them, locked
and bolted, sevenfold. For the gate had seven bolts, each with seven
heavy locks, and was sealed with the seals of all the kings and certi ­
fied by witnesses according to the law. Thus there would be no op­
portunity for fraud or deceit.
Before they embarked, at the very last moment, the King of Tyre
noticed that a very tall and sturdy oak tree, more than fifty cubits
high, was standing close to the tower, only narrowly away from its
wall. Its trunk, from root to treetop, was smooth and straight, and
it had no branches except at the top. These reached out toward the
upper windows of the tower. He called Solomon's attention to the
tree and said: "Would it not be best if you would order this oak to
be felled? Why should it be a snare for the princess or an excuse for
those who might wish to find one ? "
The k i ng studied the oak tree for a moment a n d replied: "Why
are you making such a fuss? Let the oak stay where it is, so that its
branches might delight the maiden's heart whenever she grows mo­
rose. Shall we even deny her this pleasure? Moreover, my eagle has
to land on this oak when it comes day after day to feed the maiden.
From this position he will pass the food to her through the win­
dow. "
When the King of Tyre heard these words, he cast a q uizzical
look at Solomon. He said nothing but stored the matter in his
heart.
Following these events, Solomon, all the k i ngs who had accom­
panied him, and all their men mounted the magic cloak and em­
barked, soaring above the island. The princess was left alone in the
heart of the forest and in the tower surrounded by the broad ex­
panse of the sea and the murmuring of its waves. She was commit­
ted to the hands of God.
240 The Legend of the Three and Four

The maiden sat imprisoned in the garret of the tower day after day
with neither change nor news except that the white eagle would visit
her daily, bringing her rations of the king's delicacies to her window
or to the tower's roof, as the king commanded, ever since she was
confined to the tower. Whenever the eagle was expected, she would
ascend to the roof and cast her eyes to the edge of the sea, searching
impatiently until she would sight what appeared to be a small speck
flying in the sunlight along the horizon. Slowly the speck would
grow until it had wings and a beak and looked like an eagle. It was
the white eagle. It would arrive and descend on the roof beside the
maiden or land on the treetop and pass the food to her. Then it
would retrace its route. This the eagle did day after day.
Periodically, the magic bird, as Solomon had said, would come to
the oak tree. It was a domesticated parrot with speckled feathers, a
bald crown, and a crooked beak. Sitting on one of the branches fac­
ing the window, it would announce its arrival with a bitter screech,
which sounded like a saw cutting through a dry beam, " It's me, it's
me, 0 princess, I've j ust come." The princess would open the win­
dow for it, greet it cheerfully, and would converse with it, as one
does with a friend a bout anything that occurred to her-straight
talk or humorous banter. She would pose questions and the parrot
would reply loudly. If it spoke sense, she would applaud and dance
for joy. She would also try to guess what it was saying, and when
she did, she thought of herself as recovering a treasure. But if it sim­
ply chattered nonsense or was contrary, the maiden became cross
with it and from the distance would make a fist like a ripe fig or
show it her sweet tongue and mock it with her ruby red lips.
Insulted, the parrot would also rouse itself, angrily pouring out all
its screeching imprecations one after another, and when exhausted,
it would spread its wings and fly off.
The princess saw that all the signs and wonders that Solomon had
promised did indeed occur. She now believed him and trusted his
consoling words and was no longer angry. She dwelt alone on the is­
land in her silent abode, hidden from human eyes, like a pearl in its
shell. She filled her soul with all the sights and sounds that flowed to
her from near and far through the caravans of light clouds, the roar
of the sea's billows, and the murmuring of the forest's foliage. They
entered her very being effortlessly, as the light enters the heart of a
The Legend of the Three and four 24 1

pomegranate or the flesh of an apple. The ma iden matured silently;

she was filled with juice, her skin became so taut that it was a bout
to burst. One morning, as the sun shone upon her, she felt that she
was like a ripe cluster of grapes hanging on the vine. Suddenly she
asked herself: "When shall the grape gatherer come to me? Why
does the wine presser tarry ? "

In Sidon, a tumultuous city buzzing with commerce, there lived at

that time a Jew by the name of Malkishuah, a leader of his com mu­
nity and a wealthy and enterprising merchant who descended from
the tribe of Zebulun. He had settled in Sidon many years ago when
he was still young and David, King of Israel, was yet al ive. He en­
tered its gates as an exile but because of his industry rose to high es­
tate in his adopted city and married the woman of his desires, a
pure, gentle, and delicate dove, who was the daughter of a noble­
man from the tribe of Naphtali and also a resident of Sidon. In that
city Malkishuah built his home, struck roots, and became very
much a citizen of the country. As he became esta blished, he
branched out and prospered quietly. His property and his wealth in­
creased, and all his endeavors were blessed. He dispatched camel
caravans to distant lands and ships to remote islands, to Greece,
Elisha, Tarshish, and Kittim. He gained renown among the mer­
chants of the land as a mighty entrepreneur. He was admired and re­
spected by kings and princes for his broadness of spirit and integrity.
They would entrust him with their affairs and treated him kindly.
Consequently, many important personages sought his company, and
people from far and near were eager to do business with him. He,
too, because of his generous spirit, never refused any overture and
lent a helping hand to all who stumbled. He established a separate
house in his courtyard in which every exiled or broken person who
fled to him from Judah would find a haven, including men who had
angered kings and princes. For he had experienced on h is own flesh
the anguish and pain of the persecuted.
Few knew the story of his early years, from the time he left Judah
fleeing for his life until he arrived i n Sidon. Malkishuah had drawn
a veil over them. But those days were much marked by their many
and varied agonies. While yet a young man, at the very peak of his
242 The Legend of the Three and Four

vigor, he had left his father's home, the home of a nobleman, and
gone forth bravely in quest of adventure, taking to the road in the
pursuit of distant places. When he heard that Joab had rallied his
forces to attack Aram, he rushed to the fray, showing his valor in
battle and performing gallant deeds. His heart, like that of a leop­
ard, knew no fear. Wherever the battle raged most fiercely,
Malkishuah would race with his sword and bow. In one of these
battles, his arrow pierced the heart of one of Aram's royal princes,
and he earned a hero's accolade. His cunning was as great as his
courage. His mind teemed with schemes. Several times a day he
faced dangers but always extricated himself from them. He was
taken captive frequently but always escaped by his wits. One day he
was captured and brought before the King of Aram. A single step
stood between him and death. But even then, his cunning succeeded
in fooling his captors, and he escaped. Then suddenly he reversed
himself and joined those who plotted against David. He had come
to despise the King of Judah and called the people to revolt against
him. There was no plot against David in which he was not involved.
From then on, he made his home in the craggy hills of Judah or in
its caves. Whenever he furtively came among the people to incite
them to revolt, he would mask his face for fear of his enemies.
When Sheba ben Bikhri7 raised his hand against David, Malkishuah
was among the first to join him. After that last revolt failed, he fled,
wandering for many days in the desert and foreign cities. When, in
those years of wandering, he sought to eke out a living, he never dis­
dained the meanest task, changing his occupation many times. He
worked for cruel and harsh masters and had his fill of bitterness and
ga ll. There was no suffering that he did not experience, no shame he
did not endure. Yet he was never broken by any misfortune or afflic­
tion. On the contrary, he was refined in the furnace of dire poverty.
His burning ardor had indeed somewhat cooled, but his will re­
mained strong as flint and his wit as sharp and burnished as a razor.
Thus one day, he came through the gates of Sidon after having his
fill of suffering and painful episodes, but he had also become much
broadened and even wiser by his experience, and more adroit with
his hands than he had been before. The sinews of the back of his
neck were made of iron, his hands were skilled, his eyes were like

711 Samuel: I -2J.

The Legend of the Three and four 24 J

arrows touched with the poison of contempt, his mind a treasury of

wisdom. When he saw the great international tra de center, its
masses, its trade, and its commerce, he decided to build his home
within its walls and to demonstrate his prowess and his initiative in
business and commerce. He did, indeed, accomplish what he set out
to do. He became exceedingly wealthy.
Malkishuah's fame reached King David in Jerusalem. Evil advisers
and secret detractors, who pretended to be zealous supporters of
David and the throne, incited the king aga inst him, sayi ng: " Sec
Malkishuah, who from his youth has been hostile to your throne,
has now entrenched himself in Sidon. H i s home is a hotbed for
every rebel and conspirator and a haven for disturbers of the peace
of this land. Now therefore, ask the King of Sidon (is he not your
friend and ally ? ) to extradite him into your hands . " However, David
was by then an old man and was likewise weary of tribulations. He
therefore did not heed the whispering plotters and even rebuked
them, saying: " One should not remember the sins of youth. I would
rather recall Malkishuah's youthful loyalty when he risked his life
for the glory of his nation in war and made a name for himself. He
was a heroic soldier of absolute i ntegrity. And if, as most men, he
sinned in his salad days, he has long ago atoned for his transgres­
sions with his years of exile and wandering. I have also heard that
he serves as a bastion and protector of his people in Sidon. They are
honored and find strength in the honor given him. Leave off. Let
him rest peacefully in his abode and prosper in that foreign city. By
so doing, he will increase the honor of God beyond the borders of
Israel. "
Nevertheless, Malkishuah denied himself the pleasure o f making a
pilgrimage to Jerusalem and Judah all the days of David's kingship.
He also refrained from doing business there or engaging in large fi­
nancial ventures, to prevent his enemies from criticizing him, lest the
old king hear the slander and become displeased with him.
However, becau se he was devoted to God and H i s festivals, he
would send, through his agents and his few business colleagues in
Judah, sacrifices and gift offerings to the great high place that was at
Gibeon.
Malkishuah's gifts were a token of homage to God's altar, its
priests, and the nation's poor. These were considered as acts of
righteousness on his part. Moreover, on many occasions, be they a
244 The Legend of the Three and Four

drought, a plague, or any other calamity, Malkishuah was the first

to rush aid to the victims from afar and to afford relief to those in
trouble. Hence Malkishuah's name was viewed as a blessing by
many people.
After Solomon had built God's house and proclaimed peace and
truth throughout the land, Malkishuah, full y repentant, once again
supponed the House of David. He made an ann ual pilgrimage to
Jerusalem and contributed many vow and gift offerings. But he
avoided the palace and never called on King Solomon, so that the
king might never be reminded of the past and be distressed. He also
desisted from doing business in the land of Aram and was careful
not to step within its borders, for he feared the wrath of its people.
For Aram had not yet forgotten the sin of his arrows. Malkishuah
knew that were he to fall into the hands of those who sought to kill
him, they would show him no mercy. He, then, remained safe in
Sidon, running his affairs efficiently, enjoying much wealth, honor,
and renown.
Yet \vith all this fame and serenity, he was not free of Satan's hos­
tility even now. Suddenly, the bright light of his peaceful life was
dimmed by the untimely and accidental death of the gentle bride of
his youth, the pride of his home, and the mother of his only son.
One day, as she was traveling by ship in the hean of the sea, she ac­
cidentally fell overboard, without anyone witnessing the accident.
She found her grave in the deep waters. From then on, Malkishuah
was overwhelmed by grief. He lost all pleasure. The joy of his
Sabbaths and holidays ceased. He even discontinued his customary
annual pilgrimages to Jerusalem. Malkishuah was able to assuage
his hea,·y grief by lavishing his fierce love upon his son, her little or­
phan, the first fruit of her womb. He was the solace upon whom he
showered compassion, coddling and guarding him like the apple of
his e�·e.
The child grew into a boy, the boy into a valiant young man,
handsome, intelligent, and able. None of his contemporaries could
compare to him in bravery, intelligence, skillfulness, or good looks.
Netanyah ably assisted his father in every endeavor, serving as his
right hand. When the father realized the young man's sterling quali­
ties, he put him in charge of his household and his possessions.
Indeed, Netanyah so conducted all his affairs with great acumen,
liberal ity, and courage that his father was delighted with him,
adding even more love to the love he had for him and never denying
The tegend "( the Three and f"ur 24 'i

him anything. However, he did not permit him to sail on hi� ships,
for fea r that Netanyah might experience the tragic fate of his
mother on the treacherous seas. He, therefore, held him close to him
because of his love and his concern for his sa fety.
All the Sidonean maidens who were acq ua inted with Netanyah,
Jewish or gentile, admired him and sought his company. He filled
their thoughts whether they were awake or asleep. Netanyah, how­
ever, was not attracted to them; none of them met his expectations.
Moreover, his father did not urge him to marry. So although
Netanyah had reached marriageable age, he was still a bachelor. One
day, late in autumn, a ship chartered by his father was about to sail
from Sidon to Tarshish, heavily laden with wheat, oil, and wine, and
accompanied by one of Malkishuah's trusted employees. Malkishuah
and his son went to the port in order to visit the ship and instruct its
crew before it embarked, as was their custom. As they went to the
port, a band of frolicking young men also descended to the shore, led
by the playing of drums, cymbals, and fifes.
They were all young Jews who had gathered together from Sidon
and its environs and were on their way to embark upon a ship sail­
ing for the bay of Acco. From there they planned to go up to
Jerusalem to celebrate the festival of Sukkot and to rejoice before
the Lord. Netanyah saw the joy of the young men, and their spirit
filled his heart, kindling a burning desire to see the City of God this
time, come what may. He pleaded with his father over and over
again to permit him to go to Jerusalem, as he deeply desired.
Malkishuah was gravely concerned and said weakly: " Your request,
my son, is granted but do not go by ship. Do not test the Lord. Go
instead by land. In a few days a camel caravan is scheduled to de­
part. You may j oi n it. " But Netanyah insisted: " No, no father. I will
go by ship and now. Is the God of the dry land also not the God of
the sea ? "
Malkishuah, this time, could not withstand the entreaties o f his
only son, seeing that he was consumed by the fire of his passion. His
resistance broken, he granted Netanyah's request. However, because
of his great concern for his son's welfare, he placed Netanyah under
the care of the steward of his household, who was journeying on the
ship, and ordered him to guard Netanyah and never let him out of
his sight until he arrived at Acco, where the boat would stop en route
for a short while. He was ordered to take Netanyah ashore and place
him under the charge of Mr. X, an associate of Malkishuah, who
246 The Legend of the Three and Four

faithfully represented him. This associate would concern himself

with the young man and would scrupulously watch over him. And
Malkishuah sent a letter by his son's hand to his associate who lived
in Acco, imploring him to serve as his son's eyes and hands during
his stay in the Holy Land, guard him constantly, and bring him per­
sonally to the City of God. He instructed him to oversee Netanyah's
comings and goings and, once the festival had ended, not to delay
him but return him quickly and safely to his father's home on
whichever of Malkishuah's ships would first arrive at Acco.
All this was not sufficient in Malkishuah's eyes. He ran home and
brought a heavy bag of silver weighing seven manna and a large and
very precious emerald, the most carefully guarded jewel in his trea­
sury and his most cherished amulet, which weighed twenty drach­
mas. These he placed in Netanyah's hand and said: " Shall
Malkishuah's son undertake a pilgrimage to the House of God for
the first time and come into His presence empty-handed ? Never!
Therefore, take what I have given you and bring it as a gift from my
hand to the House of God. Present the silver for burnt offerings and
sacrifices on the festival and this precious stone to adorn the curtain
of the Holy of Holies. "
But before Malkishuah put the precious stone i n his son's hand,
he paused for a moment and, overcoming his turbulent emotions,
said in a shaking and at times hesitant voice as he regarded the
emerald, which also trembled in his hands: "Do you see this stone,
my son ? It is for me the rarest of the world's amulets, a sacred relic.
Like the morning star, it first shone on your mother's head on her
wedding day. Like the planet Venus, it shone on her breast on the
festivals. It is a wondrous gem, a rare stone in which a mysterious
and mighty power lies hidden. It is more precious than royal trea­
sures. For many days, it was hidden in the treasure house of an
Indian prince, guarded by a great python. Through a miracle it fi­
nally fell into my treasure house. Let it now cast its light on the cur­
tain of the House of God, and let its radiant brilliance tremble in
His Holy Temple. Let it be an eternal light in memory of the soul of
your mother, the purest of all the women on earth, like an immortal,
everlasting tear, and let it commemorate the luster of her life, which
ended before its time . "
The emerald was passed from the father's hand t o that o f the son.
It was still trembling and shimmering in Netanyah's hand. It ap­
peared like a great tear of God, a tear of eternal sorrow.
The Legend of the Three and hJUr 247

Netanyah took the holy silver and the gem silently and hid them
in the leather belt that he had fastened on his hips. Following rhe�e
events, Malkishuah's anxiety for his son almost a bated . Now, would
not God surely command his good angels to guard the l:omings and
goings of his son. For was not the young man sent by his father to
the House of God on a sacred mission. He was going by the word of
God and would fulfill his father's wmmand.
Malkishuah embraced his son, showered him with many kisse�,
and sent him off in peale. Soon the ship set sail from the shore,
bearing Netanyah the son of Malkishuah in its bosom to the fa r
reaches of the sea. Netanyah, in his youthful in nocence, did nor
know that while his heart and flesh were singing for joy at the sight
of the sea and its broad expanse, his aged father still stood rooted to
the shore, his eyes following the fading ship with fear and deep sor­
row, eyes streaming with tears as his lips formed a whispered prayer.

A father's heart never lies. The ship had barely entered the sea when
God cast a tempest into its waters, turning the depths into a seething
cauldron. The heavily laden ship was tossed from billow to billow
like a straw basket, and its officers and sailors were unable to keep
it on its course. Every heart grew faint, every hand turned weak.
The seafarers cried out loudly, each to his god, but the storm did not
subside but grew stronger sevenfold. Sail after sail was ripped to
shreds, ropes snapped, and masts broke one after another, crushing
more than one skull as they fell. The eyes of the sailors turned de­
spondent. They began lightening the ship, jettisoning half its cargo
into the waters; sacks of wheat, barrels of wine, and j ugs of oil were
all heaved into the boiling depths and broke into a devil's dance
around the ship's sides, rising, falling, and bursting as they smashed
against each other. Soon the sailors realized that their action was
foolhardy. As the ship became lighter, the billows raged even more
and made it dance, playing their cruel game. Even worse was the re­
alization that the cargo that they had cast into the sea now joined
the waves goring the ship's sides and setting it atremble. After a few
moments, the sides were penetrated with deadly holes, which could
not be repaired. The waters rushed into its hold, swift and fierce. A
deathly fear overcame the passengers, and they ran about wildly in
248 The Legend of the Three and Four

all directions i n panic. They were all disheveled and bleary-eyed,

helpless and without recourse. Confusion, perplexity, and panic
now reigned. Each man attacked his neighbor. The captain in com­
mand, realizing that nothing could be saved, remembered that his
master's son had been placed in his charge and he devised a plan to
rescue him. He lashed him with a thick rope to two inflated wine­
skins, tied a bottle of wine round his neck, thinking that if the ship
were to sink, the wineskins would keep the lad afloat for some time
and perhaps he might escape death. The rest of the voyagers also de­
vised plans to survive, every man for h imself. Some stripped them­
selves naked and lashed wineskins to their hips; some tied them­
selves to wooden beams or boards, or to sealed jars or barrels, or to
anything that might float that could be found in the confusion. The
treacherous waters continued to penetrate the ship, filling it to the
brim. Suddenly the storm let loose a bitter and piercing shriek-a
shriek boding catastrophe and death. The ship and all its contents
plunged into the sea's depths. Only a small number of passengers
were saved, among them, young Netanyah. They were now carried
shrieking on the wrathful waves of the sea. But even among those in
the water were many whom the storm carried away in all directions
until they disappeared. Thus the boat was destroyed on a day of
wrath, leaving no trace behind it.

What happened to the rest of the voyagers who had entrusted their
lives to the sea, no one knows. But Netanyah son of Malkishuah
was borne on the shoulders of the waves for two whole days, still
nestling between the two wineskins like a baby between his mother's
breasts, secured to them by a rope, and tossed from one wave to an­
other. All the while, he neither ate nor drank, for the sea's billows
confounded him and he was dazed. On the third day, the storm
abated. Suddenly the healing and generous sun shone down upon
the sea. Exultant, the sea burst into laughter, as if seized by an over­
whelming joy. The young man opened his eyes and discovered that
he was strapped between the two wineskins in the heart of the sea
while boundless golden waters were merrily rippling all about him.
Now he recalled the storm and what it had done to the ship and its
passengers. His heart grew faint and he wept. He was especially up-
The I.egend of the ThreL' am/ four 24':1

set at the fate of his father's steward, the ship's agent who, even
when confronted by the terror of death, had remained fa ithful to his
master and had first and foremost concerned himself with providing
Netanyah with a safe refuge between the winesk ins. His hearr went
out to the old man, and he suddenly imagined that he still heard his
cry reaching him from the far and wide expanse of the sea and echo­
ing in the moaning of its waves, "Na-tan-yah ! "
And h e vowed: " I f God should rescue me from these mighty
waves and return me to my father's house, I shall gather to me all
the widows and orphans of the passengers and with God's help sup­
port them with great compassion all the days of my life, as God is
my witness. "
In the meantime, Netanyah's body regained its warmth. He grew
stronger, opened the bottle tied to his neck, and swallowed a gulp of
wine. His eyes lit up and his strength was restored. Groping about
further, he found the belt still on his hips; the package he had tucked
into it was undamaged. This he viewed as a good omen, indicating
that he would still make his pilgrimage to the House of God and ful­
fill his father's vows as instructed. He was indeed, as his father had
said, charged to fulfill God's commandments.
Netanyah lay in the lap of the two wineskins, floating and rocking
upon the wide golden waters like a child in its cradle. His face was
turned toward the brilliant sky, and his heart was fu ll of prayer,
hope, and consolation. As he floated with his eyes peering heaven­
ward, suddenly a large, winged creature appeared in the sky, an all­
white hawk of gigantic size, flying and hovering over him in the
azure heavens, its plumage glistening in the sunshine like white silk.
For a moment, the hawk ceased flying, as if suspended by a hidden
thread between the sea and the sun. But a moment later, the thread
seemed to snap and the hawk fell suddenly and descended from the
heights like an arrow shot directly toward him. Before Netanyah
could regain his composure, the fierce, heavy-bodied hawk cast a
shadow over him as i t fluttered its mighty p i nions. Suddenly
Netanyah's eyes perceived a pair of grasping, devouring claws as
sharp as emery and a beak as hard as burnished flint curving in
front of him.
Seized by a deathly terror, he lifted his hand as if to fend off the
monster. At that moment, the hawk struck the rope tied to the
young man's waist with its beak. One hard blow followed another
and a third. The rope snapped and Netanyah was released. A rna-
250 The Legend ofthe Three and Four

ment later the white hawk soared to the heights, -mighty and power­
ful, holding its prey in his talons-the unconscious Netanyah.
No one will fail to comprehend that the hawk that had descended
upon him was that very great white eagle, King Solomon's eagle,
which in its flight to the magic island to bring food to the daughter
of the King of Aram, imprisoned in the tower, had seen from the
heights a young man afloat on the sea, nestling between two wine­
skins. It had swooped down upon him and carried him away.
Thus Netanyah was drawn from the sea and held in the eagle's
talons. He was removed from the two wineskins, which continued
bobbing on their own as the waves shook them, moaning quietly,
abandoned on the wide expanse of the sea. The wineskins appeared
abashed and bereft like the twin breasts of a mother whose suckling
child had been snatched from her bosom.

The eagle carried Netanyah to the secret island and descended,

placed him under a tree in the woods, and flew away. When he re­
gained consciousness and opened his eyes, he found himself under a
sycamore tree, surrounded by dry wild figs and leaves, which had
fallen from the tree. With his weak hands, he gathered a handful of
the figs and ate them and then washed them down with wine from
his bottle. His spirit was revived, his strength restored. Then he sud­
denly recalled the shipwreck, his floating in the sea in the wineskins,
and the fierce white eagle that had descended upon him. All these
events seemed like a nightmare dreamed while one is awake. He
could not be sure whether to believe they had really happened. After
his clothes had dried, he got up and walked about the woods to sur­
vey the area. Perhaps he would come upon some shelter or resting
place in a cleft of the rock or some cave or earthen tunnel or some
other hiding place in which he might rest for the night. Netanyah
wandered through the woods to and fro, walking, not keeping to
the path, and scanning everything he saw about him. As the day de­
clined, he reached a high hill entirely covered with huge rocks and
bushes. Va rious wild plants were scattered over the hillside, whose
top was crowned by a thick forest. He heard the gurgle of bubbling
water, and he searched and found a limpid spring running along the
hillside, hidden by the rocks and the grass. Netanyah ate some mul-
The [,egend of the Three and four 2� I

berries, stuffed his clothes with them, quenched his thirst from the
spring, and refilled his bottle. After he had refreshed hi msel f, he
continued to climb up the hill, striding over the rocks, cutting his
way through the brush, intent upon reaching the forest at the peak
of the hill.
The sun rested on the treetops. Netanyah stood on a plateau at
the top of the hill, deep in the mighty and primeval forest. The cold
forest air and its dark shadows encompassed him. He enjoyed the
scene immensely. He was tempted to stretch out on the grass under
a green fir tree and rest, for he was very tired from his exhausting
journey and the heat of the day. However, while he was looking
about, he suddenly heard what appeared to be a cracking of some
twigs on which somebody had trod. Raising his eyes, he spied a ten­
der doe leaping deep in the forest, now appearing and now disap­
pearing among its trees. Netanyah dashed after the doe, following
on its heels in a winding zigzag. Racing, he suddenly emerged into a
wide clearing, entirely bathed in the light of the sinking sun. He was
astonished to discover a tall tower in the heart of the forest. It
loomed before him, high and prominent, casting its shadow like a
dark carpet upon the grass. Its pinnacle stretched like a haughty
neck toward the heavens. For a moment, he imagined that his legs
had brought h i m to some human h a b itation, and he rejoiced.
However, as he drew nearer and examined the tower, he saw that it
was isolated; there was no other house beside it. He also saw its
windowless walls, its bolts, and its locks. The tower made him won­
der. This was an insoluble and somewhat frightening riddle. Was
there something evil lurking within that tower? His mind told him
to be very cautious and not to do anything before he first examined
the tower and the surrounding country carefully. Who knows what
snares were hidden in or around it? Perhaps it was a secret hide­
away for bandits or murderers, a den or meeting place for witches
and wizards.
Meanwhile the sun had set and night descended. A thick darkness
enveloped the earth and all that was in it. In the forest the darkness
was sevenfold heavier still. Pile upon pile it lay under every tree and
bush, silent, brooding, and pregnant with mystery, covering every
valley and depression, every rise and hillock.
All sorts of different sounds emerged from the depths of the for­
est, each more strange and more mysterious than the other: whisper­
ings and murmurings, loud voices and howls, growls and roars, pas-
252 The Legend of the Three and Four

sionate mating calls and the lovesick groans of n_ight birds, owls sick
with desire, and the wailing of wild beasts writhing, crying, and
aching with passion. The forest was steeped in terror. Netanyah's
flesh began to creep; he abandoned the doe and the tower and re­
tired to a cleft in the rock, which he had seen when it was still day,
to hide there from the terror and the cold night air. He blocked the
entrance to the cleft with stones, lay on the ground, and fell asleep.
Night fogs descended, groping their way like the blind, spreading
their white sheets over the forest. Two lovely souls lay asleep in its
bosom: the young woman in the tower's garret and the young man
in the cleft of the rock.

Morning dawned. Choirs of myriads of birds filled the entire forest

with joyous song, which gladdened the branches of every tree and
bush. Their music rose to the heavens and poured down on the dew­
soaked grass like golden rain and a hail of pearls. The forest stood
wet, verdant, and robust; its trees tall and surging with sap, bathing
their heads in the sunshine, and dipping their feet in the dew-filled
grass. Bodies and faces glistened and were a live with j oy. The
singing of the birds woke Netanyah. He rose and went into the for­
est, full of his usual youthful vigor, for sleep had refreshed him, lift­
ing his spirits and revitalizing his strength. Then he recalled the
wondrous tower that he had seen in the clearing yesterday. He,
therefore, returned to the site, choosing a hidden spot sheltered by
the tangled brush growing behind a rock. As he sat there, he vowed:
"I shall neither budge from here nor rest even at the peril of my life
until the mystery of this tower is revealed to me. "
H e lay i n ambush, his eyes peering a t the tower through the
branches. Suddenly, he heard a wild inhuman voice screeching: " It is
me, it is me. How are you, my princess ? " The youth was astonished,
since he saw nothing. Suddenly he gaped in amazement, and his eyes
focused upon one of the tower's windows that faced the oak tree.
There, near the window but inside the garret, a gentle, sad-eyed
maiden appeared, simple, youthful, and beautiful as an angel. Her
face was pure and litnpid as the moon. For a moment, she stood
silent and doleful, looking toward the top of the oak tree. Then she
thrust her head through the window and, as she glanced at its top-
The l.egend of the Three and four 2 ' i1

most branches, said sweetly: "I am very well, very well, my r..:ute par­
rot, thank God, thank God, my darling bird ! And you, you little
devil. How a re you ? " Then the screeching voice pie rced the
branches aga in and shrieked, "I am well, I am well, my prince,s,
thank God, thank God . "
A slight smile covered the maiden's lips, although her eyes had a
sad cast. She continued speaking in a tender bur languishing tone:
" Is this all you have to say today, parrot? Have you no news to
bring me? Perhaps you might tell me how much longer I must re­
main imprisoned on this desolate island ? Will my redeemer come to
rescue me? Answer me, pa rrot, will he come ? " And the strange
voice shrieked, "He will come, princess, he will come . "
The girl sighed deeply a n d cried out: " 0 m y consoling bird. Why
does he tarry? See, my eyes are wasted waiting for him day after
day. My heart cries out for him as I lie on my couch night after
night. Why has my redeemer not come, not come ? "
" He shall come, shall come, princess, blessed be he who shall
come." The maiden probed deeper and said bitterly: "If indeed he
shall come, as you say, why does he not give me a sign ? Why does he
hide his face from me, keeping the light of his eyes and the majesty
of his voice out of my sight? Why have I not seen or heard him ? "
The voice i n the treetop shrieked, " I have seen him, heard him."
The princess's face was flooded with j oy and she cried out: " Have
you indeed seen him face to face; have you heard his voice? Where is
he, then, far or near? "
The voice i n the tree shrieked, "Far and near, peace to him that is
far and to him that is near. "
And the girl continued, faint with sorrow: "Will God make him
wings so that he may fly up to me ? Does he have arms powerful
enough to break the iron bolts and lock s ? How can he enter my
rooms and reach me while I am imprisoned behind double locks at
the top of this high tower? Tell me, 0 magic bird ! "
This time the only reply to her questions was a furtive rustling in
the treetop. From h i s h i d i ng place, Netanyah noticed that the
wondrous bird rose from the treetop, flew hither and thither, then
suddenly veered straight toward the bush where he was hiding,
perched upon it, and shrieked fiercely, as i f emptying his entire
repertoire of shrieks all at once on the youth's head, "It is me, it
is me, come, come, blessed i s his coming, peace, peace, so be it,
so be it. "
25 4 The Legend of the Three and Four

After the bird had exhausted its breath, it sprea.d its wings and van­
ished into the thicket of the forest. Astonished, Netanyah reentered
the brush, trembling like a leaf. For these events came over him like
an incredible dream. He could believe neither what he had seen nor
what he had heard. "Who erected this tower at this fearsome site?
Who is the princess hidden within it?" He was even more astounded
by the talking bird. He had often heard about talking birds, but this
was the first time in his life that God had brought him face to face
with such a wondrous bird and enabled him to hear it speak with his
own ears. He was not a cowardly man, nor did he believe in magic;
nevertheless, his very bones trembled when the bird perched above his
head on a bush under which he lay and when it shrieked at him. He
held his breath, almost dying of fright at each word it uttered.
Netanyah did not know that even more mysterious wonders were
in store for him.

When his shock had somewhat abated, Netanyah returned to his

hiding place. His eye first sought out the maiden at the window, but
she had disappeared. His heart was sad, as if the sun had darkened
at noon. It was then that he recalled the words that were spoken by
the maiden and the bird. He asked himself who was the lovely wan­
faced, sad-eyed maiden who had appeared to him in the window,
and who was the cruel heartless man who had imprisoned her in the
tower. But he was not able to solve the riddle.
His heart and inner being were still yearning for the maiden, when
suddenly he saw her again, this time not at the window but at the
pinnacle of the tower. Gently and silently she walked in the glowing
sunlight, pure and glistening like a small white cloud afloat in the
blue sky. Her face shone like the face of an angel, reflecting the spot­
less robes in which she was dressed.
Soon she reappeared and, shading her eyes with the palm of her
right hand, she scanned the sea's horizon. On the edge of the sky, a
speck hovered between the earth and sky, coming closer and closer,
increasing in size until one could discern that it had wings and a
beak, and then rook the form of a gigantic and fierce hawk plumed
in white. The white hawk descended and landed on the rower's roof
and stood before the maiden .
The l.egend of the Three and four

Netanyah saw the winged creature from his hiding place and his
heart grew numb. He almost cried out aloud in terror and amaze­
ment. Was not this the fearsome monstrous hawk that had lifted
him out of the sea and brought him to the island? He recognized it
because of its white plume and fearsome appearance. Nevertheless,
Neta nyah restra ined himself and sat silently in his hiding place,
waiting to see how it all would end.
The great hawk was the white eagle that was ordered by Ki ng
Solomon to feed the maiden. After loitering a little, it spread its
wings and flew back along the same route it had taken, as was its
custom day after day. The maiden likewise, after dallying for a little
aga in, disappeared from Netanyah's sight. It was as if the sun's
brightness had become tarnished for him. He waited till he grew
tired, but she was gone, gone. A great sorrow filled his heart, and he
sat in his hiding place despondent.
His very innermost chambers seethed with anguish like a turbu­
lent sea. Ever since this wondrous maiden had appeared before him
at the top of the tower and he had heard her sweet voice, his heart
was shaken and he was restless. When she spoke, he was over­
whelmed and felt great compassion for her. In vain did he seek to
solve the mystery of the tower; it would remain a riddle.
When Netanyah grew too impatient with sitting idly by and wait­
ing, he emerged stealthily from his hiding place and ventured to­
ward the tower so that he might explore it at close range. Slowly, he
cut through the brush growing near the tower, careful not to be seen
or heard. He circled the tower, investigating its surroundings several
times, always furtively, for he still feared the tower and its mysteries.
He searched the reaches of the tower over and over again. Perhaps
some entrance, gateway, hole, or underground passage might be
found. His hopes, however, were dashed. The sides of the structure
were impenetrable from ground to windows. He could never reach
the windows, because they were much too high for him. The walls
were smooth, without any projection, edge, or foothold. The single
gate to the tower, with its bolts and locks of cast iron, was locked
and sealed sevenfold and was invulnerable to the might of either a
Samson or a Goliath.
Despite this, Netanyah did not despair and continued his search.
He hatched numerous schemes to penetrate the secret of the tower.
For a moment, the thought occurred to him that perhaps the oak
tree might be his salvation, since it was close to the tower's wall and
256 The Legend of the Three and Four

its branches reached out toward the window in which the maiden
had appeared. But when he examined the height of the oak and the
smoothness of its trunk, he faltered and abandoned the idea. Who
would dare scale such a tall tree without breaking his neck? The
height of the giant oak, with its dark foliage, almost frightened him.
Sturdy and wrathful it stood guard, a faithful and solitary sentinel,
as if warning, "No foot shall venture here; whoever dares approach
will not escape unpunished. " But with all that, the youth did not
rule out the possibility of the oak tree, keeping it in mind for a more
opportune occasion.

10

After Netanyah grew weary of his quest to devise a proper plan, he

remained concealed in the forest. Meanwhile he grew very unhappy
and was exhausted and overwhelmed as a consequence of all the
mysterious events he had experienced. He went down to the berry
patch and ate some fruit, slaking his thirst from the spring. Then he
lay under a bush for a short rest and in order to think things over.
He lay under the bush, but all his thoughts were directed toward
the tower and the maiden secreted within its walls. He could not
erase the image of the wondrous girl from his eyes even when they
were shut. Her pleading voice still rang in his ears: "Why has my re­
deemer not come? Why have his footsteps tarried ? "
All o f a sudden, Netanyah's heart was stirred. I t was a s if a bright
ray of light had flashed upon him, and he asked himself: " Am I not
the redeemer? Has not God chosen me to rescue the maiden ? Was it
in vain that He had showed me His many miracles and events, guid­
ing me to this place? Did He not cast a storm on the sea, wreck the
ship, for the maiden's sake? Was it not because of her that God's
hand brought me here on the wings of the eagle? "
Netanyah held o n t o his imaginings and did not relent, a s he con­
tinued to ask: "If this indeed was the finger of God, why did the
process begin but not be realized ? What point was there in bringing
me here, when the tower is so tightly locked and I still do not know
how to penetrate it, and how can I reach the wondrous maiden held
within it? How can I redeem her when she is shut fast in a room at
the top of the tower with seven bolts and seven locks and seven
seals ? "
The l.egend of the Three and !'our 257

Netanyah's heart sank again in hitrer hut soundless lamentation:

"Alas, 0 God, why did You not command the eagle to cast me on
the tower's roof instead of on the ground ? Or formed me like the
parrot, which can soar to the oak tree and speak to the maiden face
to face at will, or even like one of the tiny birds that nest a hove her
window and are able to alight and chirp on its sill, or on her prison
roof, or wherever they please, unhi ndered ? "
But even when he thought sad thoughts, Netanyah did not cease
devising plans how to penetrate the tower at night like a thief hy
means of a tunneL At other times, he contemplated approaching the
tower unafraid and calling out to the maiden as he stood under her
window.
Perhaps he might wrest the key to this entire mystery from her
lips. Who knows, perhaps she might lower a rope through the win­
dow so that he could climb up to her.
He conjured up various schemes of this sort, but none satisfied
him. He was not deterred by cowardice but by the fear that he
might unintentionally endanger the maiden's life.
Netanyah lay beneath the bush for a long time, his heart rent and
his head swarming with many plans. To the degree that these multi­
plied, so did the false and tiresome delusions they evoked. There
was no scheme that he did not seize upon and abandon a moment
later in despair. Finally, he became very dispirited; head and body
weighed down heavily upon him and he sought relief. But the
strength of the tower and its mighty mystery held him tightly in its
grip, carrying him far off from where he lay. Once again, he saw
himself cast afloat, lashed to the two wineskins, rocking like a baby
in a cradle on the spacious sea, with his eyes fixed on the golden re­
flection of the sun upon the waters. As his eyes focused on the re­
flection, he discerned a figure rising out of the deep, a woman whose
head was crowned with a sparkling diadem and whose forehead
was adorned with a huge, glowing emerald. The figure looked like
his mother, and the stone had the same color as the emerald that he
had i n his belt. A wave of emotion overcame him, and he tried to
shout, " Mother, look, your son. " But the cry cleaved to his palate.
His tongue did not respond. He wanted to stretch his arms toward
her, but they were bound to the wineskins, and the skins, instead of
floating forward nearer to the figure, receded from it. Soon she
would total l y disappear. " Mother, Mother," he cried from the
depths of his soul, " do not forsake me." In his great anguish, he de-
258 The Legend of the Three and Four

cided to try to free his hands from the ropes with what remained of
his strength. And wonder of wonders, before he even tried to do so,
the bonds melted away, and the ropes fell from his body. But, alas,
this too was to no avail; his outspread hands no longer found the
figure he so desired standing before him, for she had in the mean­
time disappeared and had sunk completely into the golden deep.
Netanyah's embarrassed arms turned limp and fell back into the lap
of the wineskins. At that moment, Netanyah hastily reached for the
emerald in his belt with trembling hands. "Was it still there ? " When
he felt it, he grasped it with his fingers and rejoiced. He intended to
raise it to his eyes, so that they might enjoy its brilliant splendor, but
his hand did not respond. It remained immobile, glued to his side.
"Why is my arm stuck to my side ? " he wondered. "Who has bound
me with ropes again?" he continued. He turned his head to see what
had come toward him and was struck with terror at the sight. No
ropes had weighed down upon him. It was a serpent. A spotted,
writhing serpent. It had wrapped itself around him and its coils em­
braced him. The serpent's neck and head stretched toward him; its
eyes stared at his. Its ugly mouth was agape, and between its teeth,
alas, was the sacred emerald.
And yet wonder of wonders, the more Netanyah stared at the ser­
pent's eyes, the more his fear of it diminished and he could compose
himself. The expression on the serpent's face and its laughing eyes
proved that it had come with no evil intent. Had Netanyah's hands
not been bound, he would have now reached out to take hold of the
serpent's neck without fear. He also noticed that the serpent had
slowly relaxed its coils bit by bit, so that it was really only hugging
and caressing him. Undoubtedly its intentions were peaceful. It had
come to bring good tidings. But how was the emerald transferred
from his belt to the snake's mouth? Before he solved this dilemma,
the serpent turned its head away from him, as one turns the top of a
cane. Netanyah's eyes, entranced, followed the emerald as a needle
is drawn to a magnet. He was very much concerned that the pre­
cious stone might fall into the sea. When he turned his eyes away,
the figure of his mother reappeared to him, rising from the golden
deep as pure and luminous as she had been before. However, now
she was not alone but accompanied by another figure, completely
cloaked in splendor and younger than she. Her head was adorned
with a garland of white lilies, and she strode gracefully toward his
mother over the deep. The emera ld no longer glowed on his
The l.cgend of the Three and four 2 'i �

mother's forehead but on the forehead o f the young woman who

was walking toward her. The young woman resembled the won­
drous maiden of the tower. Like two daughters of heaven who had
descended to earth, both women strode toward c;H.:h other grace­
fully, their lips radiating a splendid tranqu illity and quiet joy. Then
his mother turned to him, holding the hand of her younger compan­
ion in her left hand and waving her right hand toward him, as if
calling and signa ling to him from afar, her face flooded with joy. Hi�
eyes almost made out that her lips were moving, and his cars al most
heard her whisper, " My son ! "
The young man's heart was about to burst, flooded a s i t was with
emotion, and he cried out in a superhuman voice, "Mother! "
As he cried, he broke his bonds with a su rge of strength. He
awoke; it was all a dream!

11

Astounded and overwhelmed, Netanyah remained seated for a long

time while his mind wandered in another world. Dream fragments
still roamed in the hidden corners of his soul, their broken cobwebs
still clung to his eyelids. But slowly these faded away, and he real­
ized where he was and awoke. Now he knew that indeed a day of
miracles awaited him on this island, although he did not as yet un­
derstand what their exact nature might be or when he would experi­
ence them. One thing his heart told him: the emerald would guide
him to them and would protect him. His father's words about this
extraordinary gem and its mysterious powers were undoubtedly
true. Did it not watch over him and save him from drowning in the
deep sea, and did not its magical powers determine the miraculous
events which brought him to this place? If this were so, what was
the meaning of the vision of the emerald and the various incidents
that he had seen j ust now ?
Unconsciously, Netanyah's hands reached for his belt, and he felt
for it nervously. Was the emerald safe? When he held the gem in his
trembling fingers, he was relieved, as though a heavy stone had
rolled off his body. Hastily he gazed at it, holding it very carefully in
his fingertips, a mazed at its size and the beau ty of its splendor,
which flamed and shimmered in his hands. It was indeed a magic
jewel. He had never seen any gem in his father's treasure house that
260 The Legend of the Three and Four

was its equivalent in size, splendor, coloration, or refraction. It was

cut like a suspended teardrop-a large, full teardrop j ust about to
fall-cut by a wondrous artist and polished to perfection. The more
he looked at the emerald, the more he perceived every imaginable
variation of brightness and coloration. It was as if God himself had
stored the very essence of all His luminous splendors within it. Was
this a tear of divine j oy, the chief stone of his crown of redemption ?
While he was stil l examining every facet of the stone and feasting
his eyes upon it, his fingers trembled and the emerald fel l and sank
i n the grass. As he stooped down to lift it, suddenly, the head of a
speckled python, the size of a fist, darted out from a pile of dry
leaves, seized the emerald-and fled.
A loud, bitter cry of distress startled the forest. Netanyah j umped
to his feet in hot pursuit of the python.

12

The python glided along the smooth carpet of fallen leaves and
grass, its winding spotted body like a thick rope, swiftly crawling
and twisting through trees and bushes, with Netanyah in hot pur­
suit. Had he had a rock in his hand or any other deadly weapon, he
would have crushed the skull of this ugly reptile at once and wrested
its prey from its fangs. But he was empty-handed, and he could not
pause to pick up a rock lest the python escape. He was confident
that his swift legs would catch up with the python and prevent its
escaping. Never for a moment did he take his eyes off the scaly,
writhing, living staff-which glided along the ground ahead of him.
He cunningly followed all its wrigglings and every turn of its head,
always keeping his eyes upon it because he feared that it might elude
him and the emerald be lost forever. Whenever the python passed a
pit or a trench, or if part or all of its body sank for a moment out of
sight in a pile of dry leaves or grass, the young man's heart would
grow faint with fear. And when the whole python reemerged, he
would take hope and his spirits would revive at the thought that
with one further little effort he could reach his quarry. Then
Netanyah would increase his pace and his legs would quicken once
again. The python, too, did not slacken its pace but accelerated its
speed whenever Netanyah increased his. So while one pursued the
other, the gap between them never narrowed or widened. Netanyah
The tegend of the Three and Four 26 1

began to believe that both pursuer and pursued were as if in a sieve,

shunting back and forth, but never moving ahead. And as his eyes
wearied of following the python and endlessly stalking its qu ivering
body, he would sometimes have the ill usion that it was not a python
that he was pursuing but a curling, floating hillow of smoke or, a
moment later, a meandering stream of water cut off from its source,
running and twisting through the grass, driven hy pointless terror.
At other times, he imagined that it was a black bolt of lightn ing
shaped like a flying demon from the netherworld, the fruit of its
dark womb or hatched from its cold hosom, one of those rods of
black fire that the earth belches from its dark belly periodically to
wander forth and scourge its surface, j ust as the sky sends out its
bolts of lightning and its fiery white serpents to scourge the heights.
But soon the fire dragon reverted and once again turned into a ser­
pent made of flesh. To Netanyah, all these metamorphoses appeared
to be weird fantasies and black magic. From time to time the python
raised its whole neck and held its head rigid while still moving and
turned to face its pursuer. It was then that Netanyah saw the emer­
ald shining in the gaping mouth of the reptile and illuminating its
whole throat. He was seized with terror. What was this all about?
Was it a repetition of the dream ? Or was some evil spirit terrifying
him with weird hallucinations ? But he knew that this time, whatever
he saw, he was awake; this was real and he was quite sane.
Most wondrous was the fact that the more the python repeated
this gesture of turning back h i s head, the more the terror that
Netanyah first felt diminished and he regained his composure-j ust
as in the dream. The python now appeared to him, not as someone
who was trying to flee, but as someone in a hurry-a swift messen­
ger, loyal to its dispatcher, diligently rushing to perform an impor­
tant mission. Now when the python turned its neck and head to­
ward him, it seemed to display feelings of k indness and goodwill
toward its pursuer. Its face showed no signs of enmity or evil intent.
Everything was as he had been shown in his dream. Nothing was
omitted. The texture of the serpent's wonderfully speckled skin was
beautiful. The python now seemed to Netanyah to be like a royal
scepter, a long staff signifying power and courage and great dignity,
and looked as if it had fled the world's most powerful and awe­
inspiring monarch, who had rebuked it, or like the staff of God, a
magical staff engraved all over with mysterious markings, which
some great magician had cast from his hand and dispatched to the
262 The Legend of the Three and Four

ends of the earth to perform great miracles. SlowJy, Netanyah's anx­

iety completely disappeared, as did his concern for the emerald.
Now he no longer pursued the python, but calmly and swiftly fol­
lowed it. His heart was serene; his movements fleet. The python also
slackened its pace, slithering along in front of Netanyah calmly,
showing him what direction to follow. It was the guide and
Netanyah, the follower. However, the gap between the two re­
mained as it had been, neither greater nor smaller. Finally, they
emerged in the forest clearing, and the python quickly went straight
to the oak tree standing near the tower. Netanyah was drawn after
it, as if moonstruck. Even if his eyes had been shut, he would not
have strayed from the path to the right or to the left. A covenant of
fate bound the two in an unbreakable bond. Both raced into the
clearing, the python first and Netanyah after it. They reached the
oak tree, and before Netanyah understood what would occur, the
python stretched itself tautly and with one mighty leap, wrapped it­
self around the tree trunk and with great alacrity spiraled up the
tree, reaching its top in a minute. There it halted. The tall, sturdy
trunk that only a moment ago was totally bare now had its upper
third entirely gripped by the python's many coils and looked like a
gigantic screw threatening to rivet the earth to the sky.
Astounded and overwhelmed with wonder, Netanyah stood be­
fore the awesome snake pole, his eyes staring at the serpent
wrapped at its top. Should he climb after the python ? Could he
reach it? Could he salvage the emerald from its mouth?
The python climbed even higher and stretched its neck and head
toward Netanyah as if forming a rod. As it flashed the emerald in
Netanyah's face, it cast from afar a gracious glance in his direction,
eyes begging, entreating, waiting-all the coils of its body from
head to tail trembled silently in anticipation.
Netanyah still remained rooted like a palm tree to his place, his
eyes glued to the emerald, which trembled in the mouth of the
python, as if it were alive, shimmering in its brilliance, signaling and
beckoning him. But it was so high, so beyond his reach. Netanyah's
eyes perceived it, but he was helpless. Should he try to climb toward
the top? Would he have the courage? Could he make it?
While he was still hesitating between several options, the figure of
the wondrous maiden suddenly showed itself to him. She did not
stay long; she shone and withdrew. Was she watching for him, or
did she retreat because of him?
The l.egend of the Three and l'our 211 l

Netanyah plu nged forward , propelled hy a mysterious for..:e. His

two hands grasped the trunk of the oak tree like two iron hands,
clinging to it as a helt does to a man's hips.

JJ

At first, Netanyah's ascent was quick and ea sy. foot hy foot he

grasped the trunk of the tree with his hands and sturdy legs. His
arms were charged with iron and the calves of his legs with hronze.
Two invisible ropes pulled him upward: the emerald and the image
of the maiden, lifting him higher and higher above the ground. The
higher he climbed, the more the python trembled with pleasure and
j oy at his approach. It conveyed its delight by the ceaseless and vig­
orous quivering of its tail. If it could talk, it would have cheered him
on. From afar, it encouraged the climber with the glint of its eyes
urging him on in every way: by the waving of its tail, the twisting of
its body, and the moving of its head to and fro. When the climber
reached the halfway point, he was exhausted . His arms and legs
were weary, and his body became heavier and heavier. He held on to
the trunk with what remained of his strength and inched himself
forward. But he still had a long way to go before reaching the ser­
pent. Could he do it? Would he find the strength?
He redoubled his efforts to climb higher, more and more, come
what may. Netanyah dug his fingernails into the bark of the tree, tear­
ing and scratching them until his fingers bled, and continued climb­
ing. The emerald held in the python's mouth seemed to be signaling
and commanding, " Climb on, don't falter, you'll make i t ! " Netanyah
flexed his arms and climbed on. Two feet still separated him from the
python, then j ust one foot, only one, and then only two more spans.
Just before he was one span away, his strength gave out. Hands
and feet became rigid like wood and were unable to move even an­
other inch. His body had grown much heavier; he was gasping for
breath; his temples throbbed; he was bathed in sweat. In a minute
his hands were going to slip.
Netanyah looked down at the earth from his perch and despaired.
The ground below was very far away. Had his great effort and his
climbing to this point all been i n vain? Had he been able to conquer
almost the entire height of the tree, yet would fail to cover the very
last span ?
264 The Legend of the Three and Four

With the last ounce of his strength, while he was still conscious,
he hugged the tree trunk, and they became as one. Again, for the
last time, he tried to move his hands, if only by a hairbreadth, but
his hands did not respond, just as he had experienced in his dream.
However, this time, every bone in his body knew that if his hand
were to let go, if only for an instant, he would tumble down below.
Would that his hand might not let go on its own.
As his heart sank and turned dead with fear, Netanyah shut his
eyes and a cry burst from the depths of his soul, "Mother, come,
hold me! "
With hope and strength gone, Netanyah's hands were about to
lose their grip. However, at that very moment, a miracle occurred.
The python, which had witnessed the struggle, had frozen in its
tracks and fixed its full attention on Netanyah; now upon sensing
the imminent catastrophe, it bestirred itself. Quickly it lowered its
bottom coil toward him like a rope thrown to a despairing victim to
clutch at. Unconsciously, Netanyah's hands clung to the l i feline.
With his feet using the tree trunk as a springboard, Netanyah was
drawn upward until he reached other coils and gripped them with
both his hands. Now he could breathe freely.
Easily, like climbing the rungs of a ladder, Netanyah climbed from
coil to coil while the python remained immobile, for it had flexed its
entire body, making it rigid as an iron bar so that Netanyah would
not slip until he had reached the lowest bough of the treetop and set
himself upon it. Now Netanyah had regained his confidence and
was no longer afraid. He was firmly seated on a branch. All he had
to do was to seize the python by the scruff of its neck and wrest the
emerald from its mouth. He was determined to get it, come what
may!
Netanyah stretched his entire body along the branch and reached
toward the python again and again trying to grab hold of its neck.
But the python's neck kept turning away, eluding his grasp. And
while Netanyah's hand kept reaching after it, the python's neck sud­
denly stretched out, emerging from its body as from a hidden scab­
bard, and slowly moved away from its pursuer toward the window
in the tower's wall. The longer its body became as it hung between
heaven and earth, the fewer became the coils that were gripping the
tree trunk. Netanyah, drawn after the python's head, had also un­
warily detached himself from his seat on the branch, slowly moving
toward the edge of the branch that reached toward the window. But
The Legend of the Three and four

the branch fell short of its target by about a foot. It also grew thin­
ner toward its end and bent under the weight of Netanyah's body. If
he were to move forward another hai rbreadth-it would sna p.
Terrified and anxious, Netanyah followed the python's head with
his eyes. Careful not to throw too much weight on the branch's tip,
he rested most of his body on its thickest part and reached for the
back of the python's neck. But his hand had missed its opportunity.
Just as it almost touched the neck, the python qu ickly thrust irs
head through the tower window. Still gripping the tree trunk with
its coils, it stretched its thick, round body between the oak and the
windowsill like a slanting beam, a sloping bridge.
Netanyah almost fell off the branch because he feared that an evil
fate might befall the emerald and that the python might now drop it
onto the tower.
But as if impelled by a hidden hand, before he was even able to
consider what action he might take, Netanyah suddenly slid off the
branch that he had grasped with both hands and found hi mself
hanging between heaven and earth. Finding a foothold, for an in­
stant, for one of his feet on the python's body stretched like a bridge
beneath him, Netanyah sprang like a leopard through the window
into the tower.
On the floor, the emerald glistened in front of him, and from the
wall opposite him, a pair of startled eyes stared at him in amaze­
ment. Pale as the plaster on the wall and the whiteness of her gar­
ments, the wondrous maiden stood, rendered seven times more
beautiful by her fear.
When Netanyah turned his head to look for the python, he did
not find it. The python had fulfilled its task and had disappeared, as
if it had never been there.

14

Once their amazement and their fear had left them, Netanyah and
Ketziyah sat together on the carpeted floor of the garret, like two
long-parted lovers who had met each other again after a lengthy sepa­
ration and who could not satisfy their desire to look at each other or
relate to each other all that had happened before meeting again.
As night fell, Ketziyah took Netanyah up to the roof, set before
him all the delicacies that she had kept for her evening meal, fed
266 The Legend of the Three and Four

him, and gave him drink. Afterwards she laid out a bed for him on
the roof, while she happily hastened to her garret, leaving behind
her the sweet scent of her soft body and white garments-an aroma
as gentle and as delicate as the finest of perfumes.
Netanyah remained on the roof alone, his feelings stirred and his
blood seething. He could not contain the wonders he had experi­
enced that day, wonders whose number was even greater than its
terrors. But was he not fully rewarded ? Indeed he had now re­
ceived full recompense for all his tribulations. Here, in the garret
j ust below him, a passionate loving doe will climb into her lonely
couch, her heart trembling and her flesh aglow. As she turns and
tosses alone in the grip of her desires, she will bear his name on
her lips and silently whisper, " My love, my redeemer. " This morn­
ing she was so d istant, and now she is so close. Couch below
couch. Only the thickness of the ceiling separates them. Had not
God hidden this pearl, this most enchanting treasure in all the
world, j ust for him? And he, had he not gained her at the risk of
his life ?
From the very first moment she h a d appeared t o h i m a t the top of
the tower from afar, before he was able to reach her, his heart was
drawn to her; how much the more so now, after he had climbed to
her at the risk of his life and she so near to him. Is she not the bride
for whom he had been willing to die?
Netanyah threw himself on his bed, laden with indescribably
wondrous feelings. His heart overflowed with new thoughts that
had never before entered his mind. What is this deep silent melody
so sweet and full of yearning that comes to his ears ? Is it the singing
of the evening stars or the sound of the ebb and flow of his own
flesh and blood ?
He fell deeply asleep, lying on the tower of the roof under the
canopy of the sky. His sleep and his dreams were more delightful
than any he had enjoyed in so many nights.
Early next morning, before the warmth of Ketziyah's flesh had
cooled and while the dew still rested on Netanyah's hair, the two
stood upon the rooftop like two loving young gazelles. Facing the
east, they gazed at the majestic sun as it rose in holy splendor from
behind the mountains and shed its light upon them. Embracing one
another, the two leaned against the parapet, a man and a woman.
The sweet scent of their bodies mingled with the chilled morning air
and the touch of their secret and loving caresses. A single hidden
The l.egend of the Three and four ln7

passion overwhelmed both of their bodies, and a wear �pontaneow,

joy ill uminated their faces. Indeed, on that morning the �un a p ­
peared dou bly glorious and powerful. T h e gleeful singing o f the
birds also rang out with special vigor that morning. Had ( ;od de­
clared a holiday on earth? As they embraced, soul pouring into soul,
even before the sun had risen a bove the horizon of the ea rth, rhe1r
lips suddenly met in a long kiss. It was as i f each had completely i m ­
bibed the other's soul. Then the intoxicated Netanyah murmured,
"My soul thirsts for you, my morning star. " And Ket7.iyah, clinging
to him, whispered, as she cradled her head in his bosom, "My body
yearns for you, my savior. "
Soon, when they caught sight of the eagle approaching in the dis­
tance, soaring nearer and nearer to the tower, bearing his pleasant
burden on his pinions, the lovers shook their ecstasy away as birds
do the morning dew and, waving their hands, greeted the eagle
warmly, over and over again, until it landed in the garden. They
hailed its arrival as children hail the coming of an uncle or brother
who has returned from holiday in a distant country carrying a de­
lightful present under his arm.
Deftly and joyfully Ketziyah unloaded the package carried by the
bird. However, seeing that the size of the portion had not been in­
creased, she scowled at the eagle, pretending, like a spoiled child, to
be angry. In her flightiness, she had forgotten before whom she was
standing, and she pointed her sweet little finger at this most power­
ful of eagles and reprimanded him in a charming mischievous tone:
"What a small portion have you brought today master eagle! Indeed
you are niggardly, 0 chariot of the King of Judah! Do you not yet
know that there are two of us in the tower today. Two today and
two we shall be from now on. Did you not yourself bring the guest
to my home. It is your duty, then, to fill all his needs. See, he stands
before you. Isn't he a valiant young man ? Return to your master
and tell him that I am no longer alone in the tower. There are two of
us! Did you hear, two! Ask all the morning birds and they shall con­
firm that we are two. Even the waves of the sea will roar from afar:
we are two. And the mountains around us will repeat again and
again: we are two; we are two! "
And as this surge of glee seized Ketziyah, she burst into a dance,
taking q uick mincing steps, which she strung together like a string
of small pearls. With her toes touching her ankles, she tripped
lightly around Netanyah, circling gracefully and silently gliding, as
268 The Legend of the Three and Four

if a float. At times, she withdrew like a frightened doe. As she

backed away, she stretched out her two tiny and delicate palms,
and her eyes prayed. It seemed to him that she was offering him
her body and soul as a morning gift of love. At other times, she
would come forward and approach him very closely, standing
erect before him, brow to brow, and as her entire body swayed be­
fore him, taut as a violin string or straight as a beam of light, she
scorched him with her eyes and set him aflame with her breath. A
moment later, she again withdrew. Hands on her slender hips, she
swayed and pranced gracefully, looking like a fine double-eared
silver punch bowl j ust about to fa ll from its perch. Netanyah's
hand almost rushed to catch her. The more she danced, the more
she changed her mood and became bolder. The doe was converted
into a fiery lioness, and her dance transformed itself into a flaming
storm. Her golden curls caught fire and, loose to the wind, ran
wildly along the back of her neck l i ke raging and consuming
flames. She was a live, burning torch. Netanyah, swept by her
storming and singed by her fire, stood immobile. His soul drank in
her flame and he was intoxicated. His heart was pierced by her
deadly arrows. His trembling hands quickly reached out toward
the fire, but he did not know for what purpose-were they to save
her or gra b hold of her?
However, the flame of the great fire had already gripped
Netanyah, and he was no longer able to retract his scorched hands.
A moment later, when Ketziyah, all afire, fell into his arms, he lifted
her on his shoulders and carried her to her garret as a reaper bears
his full stack to the threshing house. The strange, white eagle viewed
all that was happening with stranger's eyes, as if it saw nothing. But
no sooner had Netanyah disappeared into the castle with his prize
than the eagle suddenly bestirred itself and soared to the sky franti­
cal ly, as if scalded by boiling water. As it flew about to and fro
above the roof for several moments, flapping its wings, it seemed to
be beating against a hidden net in vain or like a night bird groping
at the moon. Suddenly it veered powerfully, as if freeing itself from a
trap, and hurled itself all at once, without thought, into the void,
cutting with both its mighty pinions through the wide spaces of
heaven, tearing through the distance and sending its mad screeching
to the ends of the earth.
When the parrot arrived after the eagle had departed to call upon
the maiden and greet her, as was its custom every morning, no one
The l-egend of the Three and hmr

responded. The window did not open that day, a n d the head of
golden curls did not show itself. It was most perplexed . Why doc'>
no one hear its screeching or respond to its call?

IS

On that day, Netanyah took Ketziyah under his wing and married
her. The next morning when Netanyah and his wife went up to the
roof, the eagle had doubled the portion of food that he had previ­
ously brought. This act they considered as a sign that God approved
and blessed their love, and they greatly rejoiced. Ketziyah almost
hugged the eagle's neck in her delight, but the angry glint of its eye,
the flinty shine of its beak, deterred her, and her eyes greeted it from
afar. The eagle acted as though it did not know her and paid no at­
tention to either Ketziyah or her greeting but stood alone, silent and
estranged. This morning its eyes and neck were ha ugh ty, and it
looked more dignified and more majestic than ever before: king of
the kingliest of eagles.
Henceforth this routine became law: each morn ing the eagle
would bring two portions of the best delicacies from the ki ng's
table, one portion for each of the two. Netanyah and his wife lived
in the tower like a pair of doves in their cote, contented as they
drank, ate, and rejoiced in their love. Only one matter disheartened
Netanyah, despite the fact that he was now imprisoned in a tower
on an isolated island with his beloved: it was now even more impos­
sible to fulfill his obligations in this hopeless state. He was despon­
dent that he could not realize his plan to appear before God and ful­
fill his father's vows.
With the passing of many days, he became saddened and depressed.
But Ketziyah consoled and encouraged him by referring to Solomon's
words. " Has not everything that Solomon said happened thus far? So
too will the rest of his words prove true. Our redemption is indeed
about to come. The King of Judah, the wisest and handsomest of all
kings, will remember the silly little maid of Aram who had surren­
dered her insignificant self into his white and long-fingered hands and
believed what his tender and honeyed mouth had uttered. Shall the
ruler of Judah and Israel lie and act traitorously ? "
Ketziyah's prophecy was indeed fulfilled. The redemption o f the
tower's prisoners was not late in coming, as we shall soon discover.
270 The Legend of the Three and Four

16

One day, King Solomon's chefs noticed that an additional portion, be­
side the one allotted to the maiden and borne each day by the eagle to
a designated address by order of the king, was missing. This absence
puzzled them, but they ignored it, assuming that it was a mere acci­
dent. Perhaps their figures were wrong, or perhaps it was stolen by
some rat. But when the shortage was discovered again and again, they
became very concerned and set an ambush for the thief. Indeed he
was soon apprehended. And who was he? The great white eagle, the
master eagle, the king's haughty mount. He and none other. The mat­
ter was brought before the king. When Solomon heard about it, he
smiled and his face lit up, but he acted as if ignorant and said: "I did
not know that the master eagle has the habits of a magpie. He has
embarrassed me very much, and I shall have to teach him a lesson in
honesty. " And, then, as if undecided, he said: " In any case, let him
steal as much as he wishes until I decide what to do. Whoever makes
snap j udgments prevents j ustice. Who understands the psychology of
a bird ? Sometimes the tiniest fly is wiser and more righteous than
even the giant Og, King of Bashan. Moreover, does it not sometimes
happen that their evil instincts are wiser than our good sense? Perhaps
their deeds, which might appear to us to be sinful and stupid, will be
considered by God to be wise and very j ust. "
On that very day, Solomon dispatched his couriers to all the kings
who had disagreed with him at the bar.quet and requested them to
stand ready on a date that he specified to go down to the island with
him, they and their retinues, in order to visit the tower to determine
what had happened to the daughter of the King of Aram.
And Solomon and all the kings who were at his banquet, includ­
ing the maiden's father, they, their highest ministers, their greatest
sages, and their chief magicians, all gathered again as one at the
court of King Solomon. All were clad in majestic robes; the kings
wore their crowns and their royal gowns of purple and scarlet, the
min isters donned their majestic miters and their coats of fine linen
and crimson, the wise men came with their striped shirts, white
staves, their turbans with long trains, and their wide and tasseled
girdles with scribes' ink pots on their side, the magicians with their
towering hats shaped like fortresses and embroidered in white, vio­
let, and green. When this entire multicolored company mounted the
magic cloak, it rose above the earth and embarked for the island.
The Legend of the Three and four 271

All the wild life o n the island, ranging from wild fowl to the beasts
of the forest and the crawling insects of the earth, again witnessed in
great fear how the wondrous eagle, so terrible, mighty, and broad, de­
scended suddenly from the sky. It looked like a flying tract of land,
unequaled in size by any flying creature since the creation. When the
eagle landed before the tower, a company of wondrous creatures
swarmed out of its hold, very strange and weird beings, bipeds who
stood erect and gathered as one body at the tower's gates.
The passengers walked round the tower, carefully examining its
structure, feeling and smelling every stone in its walls, every splinter
on the trees, every beam or brick, to ascertain whether it had any
breach or hole or had been touched by human hands. Then they
turned back to the gateway, checking it as well, its bolts, its locks,
and its seals. Had anything been lacking?
When they found that everything was as it should be, they ordered
that the seals be removed, the locks opened, and the bolts drawn. The
doors of the gate, which had rusted because of the years, squeaked as
they swung open. The entire company entered the tower.
The ladder that had been removed was replaced, and the voy­
agers climbed into the tower, each according to his rank, first the
greater, followed by the lesser members. All except the bitter and
tense King of Aram, who was short and scrawny, who j umped the
line and entered first. His superiors, anxious as they were to know
what had at last happened to the maiden, forgave him this time and
did not reprimand him, since they recognized the advantage he en­
j oyed over them. He was the maiden's father, and he was most anx­
ious to discover his daughter's fate. He was short-tempered and im­
patient ( some say he su ffered from piles ) . He never knew a
moment's peace.
As they all ascended to the garret, they lined up in rows, each ac­
cording to his rank, position, and the honor d ue him. In the first
row was the mighty King of Egypt on one side and the irascible
King of Aram on the other, with the even-tempered and smiling
Solomon between them. Behind them, i n the second row, were the
minor and even lesser k i ngs. And behind them were the wise men,
knowledgeable and literate. Bringing up the rear was the band of
magicians and astrologers, who knew the art of interpreting dreams
and foretelling the future. Thus the company of those who had
gathered on the island stood in the ample garret, a n d their eyes
searched out every one of its corners to find the imprisoned maiden.
272 The Legend of the Three and Four

They were all impatient to learn what had happened to her during
her days of imprisonment. Would Solomon's words be confirmed?
But the girl was not to be found in the garret. Was she hiding in
the bed chamber? All raised their eyes to the door leading to the bed
chamber. At that moment, the door was opened. The company
turned to stone. They could hardly believe their eyes. Instead of the
single individual who had been imprisoned in the tower, instead of
the dainty and gentle maiden, the daughter of the King of Aram,
there now emerged before them, standing tall at the threshold with
heads raised high, two people, a man and a woman.
Everything that occurred on this day as well as all the other events
that followed it-all the excitement and tumult, their effect upon
those who viewed and heard them, and, moreover, the look on the
face of the King of Aram and his anguish upon learning who was
the father of the man whom God had chosen for his daughter-all
these would exhaust the pen of even a skilled writer. Let each one,
therefore, imagine them in his own way.

17

On that very day, Solomon and all the kings who had accompanied
him, their retinues, and the new lovers, who had been dwelling in
the tower, returned to Jerusalem to the royal palace, in order to par­
take of a banquet, which the king had ordered to be prepared before
he had departed, anticipating the result of his visit.
A swift courier came to Malkishuah in Sidon with the king's com­
mand, saying: " Hurry to Jerusalem to attend your son's wedding,
do not tarry. The king is summoning you . "
Old Malkishuah was taken to the palace. When h e found h i s son,
he fell upon his neck, embraced and kissed him over and over again
on his forehead, his cheeks, his curls, his shoulders-wherever he
could place his lips. He wept so profusely that he almost fainted,
calling out in a broken heart and in a shaking voice, as his tears
streamed like a gushing river, "Ah, my son, my son, you have sorely
distressed your old father; I had almost followed you to the grave in
my anguish ! "
All those assembled were moved to tears at the sight o f the poor old
gentleman. They retired, leaving father and son alone in the room, as
each poured out his soul to the other in the absence of strangers.
The Legend of the Three and four 273

18

The great banq uet that Solomon had arranged at his palace had
never been equaled by any held in any palace. This was, after all, the
wedding banquet in honor of Netanyah and Ketziya h.
The guests were seated, each in his proper place. At the head of
the table sat Solomon, Queen Bathyah, Pharaoh's da ugh ter, and
Netanyah and Ketziyah. He was crowned with myrtle and she wore
a wreath of white lilies on her head . Beside them sat their two fa­
thers: the King of Aram, still angry, at the bride's side, and
Malkishuah, still aggrieved, next to the groom. On each of their
sides sat the Kings of Egypt and of Tyre, they and their queens, as
well as the friends of the bride and groom. And then, the rest of the
guests: the foreign k ings and their retainers and the chiefs of the
people of Israel-all of whom were men of renown, princes, lords,
nobles, generals-and the wise counselors of the king: j udges, poets,
and men of letters, as well as many scholars and elders of the peo­
ple. Never had so much greatness, wisdom, glory, honor, j ustice,
and bravery come together at one single table.
Everyone of the king's musicians and singers who made sweet mu­
sic gathered at the palace on that day, forming a single large and nu­
merous choir. Their voices sang and their instruments played before
the king and his guests some of the psalms composed by David and
the sons of Korah. Then came the dancers, who performed both as a
group and as soloists-all this enhanced the merriment.
The king's servants and butlers served every delicacy of the high­
est quality in gold and silver vessels. There were all sorts of choice
preserves, products of the rivers and the seas, succulent meats of the
field, and h u n t from the forests, rare, cooked, roasted, and well
spiced-the work of master chefs. Chief bakers lavished upon them
delicious breads of finely sifted white flour ground from the richest
wheat of Miletus, Zanoah, and Minit. The head butlers brought
wine from the king's wine cellar, new, old, and even older. Pure and
blended wines as well as distilled liqueurs. Those who abstained
from strong drink refreshed themselves with the j uices of pomegran­
ates and other sweet fruits. Each in accord with his taste and the
preference of his palate. No servant faltered or dallied.
The more the guests ate and drank, the more their appetite grew,
and they ordered dish after dish. For such was the quality of
Solomon's delicacies that those who ate them seemed never to be
274 The Legend of the Three and Four

sated. They simply slipped down the gullet imo the belly without
anyone being aware that they did. Not in vain was it said that the
fish of the sea, the fowl of the air, the beasts of the field, cattle and
sheep, all flowed en masse, rushing happily to Solomon's kitchens,
since they considered it a fitting honor to be served at his table and
fill the bellies of his guests.
Yet the King of Aram was the only guest who still sat angry and
irascible, his green, wrinkled face growing greener and even more
wrinkled. His hand did not touch any dish that was placed before
him. He neither ate nor drank. Ever since he had learned whose son
was the young man who took his daughter, he was filled with the
venom of pythons and vipers. Twitching and evil scorpions peered
from his eyes, dancing wildly as if running amok. Malkishuah, too,
still sat like a mourner at a wedding, his face dark. The joy at find­
ing his lost son did not assuage h i s sorrow. He sat quietly but
mournfully, although his eyes looked with loving affection at the
face of his only son. The king perceived that the two were sad. He
silenced the band of musicians and singers and suddenly remarked
to Netanyah: " Please tell us, 0 Malkishuah's son, before all our
guests, how you came to the island and its tower, and how you man­
aged to reach your loving dove in her cote. Tell us everything in de­
tail, speak up and do not be embarrassed. "
Netanyah rose and clearly and honestly recounted a l l the adven­
tures he had experienced from the day he sailed by boat bound for
the bay of Acco, bearing his father's vow offerings, in order to go up
to Jerusalem to celebrate the Sukkot festival before God, until he en­
tered the tower, joined Ketziyah, and cleaved to her. He also told
them about the episode involving the emerald and the python and
all the dreams he had, not hiding anything. When he concluded, he
took out the emerald and placed it on the table before the eyes of
all, as faithful evidence confirming his account.
All the guests, the people from Judah and Israel and the foreign­
ers, upon hearing these wondrous events, were very astonished. The
eyes of the beautiful ladies, including lovely Queen Bathyah, filled
with tears, although they were fixed upon the large emerald that
glistened at them with its seventy-seven eyes and its thousand rays.
Solomon waited until the astonishment and excitement of his
guests abated and then said: "My dear guests and friends, today
your ears have heard the miraculous episode and all the wonders
that Netanyah has described, as well as all the events that contrived
The Legend of the Three and four 2 7 'i

to bring him, a Jewish lad, dwelling in the Canaanite city of Sidon,

to a hidden desolate island unknown to man and to a douhly locked
tower, which even the most valiant of heroes could not hreach.
There he found a loving dove who was imprisoned alone, a maid of
Aram, and took her as his w i fe. Now tell me all o f you, could thi.,
have occurred without God ? "
The guests, their eyes still chained to the marvelous, magic emer­
ald, responded as one: " I ndeed it was the hand of God that did this .
I t was H e who caused this t o occur. "
And the king continued: " You have spoken the truth. This has
come from God. However, if you said what you did honestly and
wholeheartedly and if your heart and your mouth are in concord,
then: magnify the Lord with me and let us exalt his name together. "
And lifting a full glass of wine, he rose to his feet and said: " I raise
this glass of blessing and redemption in the name of God; please re­
spond together with me: 'Praised be God of the spirits of all flesh
who gives a woman to a man."'
All the guests rose and, with one eye still fastened upon the emer­
ald, repeated after Solomon the blessing word by word and said,
"Amen and Amen . "
And a l l the band o f musicians and singers, upon hearing the bless­
ing, broke into a loud and powerful song in praise of God, as their
voices and instruments proclaimed, "Fortune is cast in the bosom
and all its ways come from God. "
And the sound o f the singers a n d musicians engulfed the entire
hall like a roar of mighty waters. However, the guests ignored the
music because, as the king's blessing was concluded, they once agai n
scrutinized the emerald with both their eyes a n d were not able to re­
move them. All their attention was centered upon it. In order to dis­
tract their eyes from the emerald to the bride, the king said, smiling
with good-natured mockery, " 0 kings of many lands and princes of
the earth, have you so lost your good taste that you turn your eyes
away from this charming beauty and stare at the jewel ? "
The eyes of the guests suddenly shifted to the bride. Then the king
also turned to her and said: " And you my lovely dove, princess of
Aram, because you heeded the call of your fate and of your heart
and bestowed your love upon a Hebrew lad who came from afar
whom you did not k now, may God bless you. Fear not, nor be
ashamed. Rejoice with the prince of your youth, follow him to his
father's home and family, and cling to their God and their ways. I
276 The Legend of the Three and Four

know you will not regret your decision. This event is wrought by
the arm of God, who brings the distant near in wondrous ways and
joins those apart by means of the mysterious pathways of wisdom in
order to mix blood with blood, living springs with living springs,
rendering the many and mighty fields of God fertile, and raising rich
produce on the earth anew everyday and every moment. This great
hand spun the wheel of fortune for you and brought you from afar,
imprisoning you in the tower, in order to have you taken by him
who sought your soul and your love and to have you planted by his
hand in foreign soil , in a place that was appointed for you from
days of yore.
"And know this-the king, your father, should also know this,
but he forgot and is angry-you are indeed not a foreign twig nor a
mixed seed in the land of Judah. Although Aram separated itself
from Judah in ancient days, both peoples are hewn from the same
quarry. Our earliest fathers are hewn from the same rock, which
originated in Aram. They took their wives from the family of Aram.
Therefore let your source be blessed, and on this day, your wedding
day, receive a sevenfold blessing, as you come before the eyes of this
community and in the presence of the elders of Israel to seek shelter
under the wings of Israel's God and dwell in his shade forever. Our
sister, may your descendants be counted in myriads."
And all the assembly responded to the king's remarks in joyful tu­
mult, and the choir of musicians and singers echoed the blessing
with a fanfare of song, " Our s ister, may your descendants be
counted in myriads. "
The king and queen kissed Ketziyah on her pure white forehead to
the cheering of the assembly and the choir. When the roar subsided,
the king, his hand still resting on the bride's shoulder, declared: "I
haven't finished my remarks. It is indeed true and clear as the sun
that you were shown that only the hand of God can perform all
these miracles and render the circumstances that brought these two
distant souls together, but bear in mind that it was I who was cho­
sen by God, unbeknownst to me, to be one of his instruments in this
matter, and I in no small way caused the anguish that this dear girl,
the apple of her father's eye, had to endure. This silent dove, com­
pletely innocent, was forci bly ejected from her cote and forced to
su ffer isolation on a desolate, uninhabitable island, where she was
confined to an impenetra ble tower. I empathized with you, my
daughter, felt your agony from afar; my heart trembled for you. But
The tegend of the Three and hmr 277

now your joyous wedding day has arrived, and you will he ma rried
in my home. I, therefore, decided to atone for the wrong that I did
you hy presenting you with a gift, which I have prepared for you.
May it serve as a small compensation for your great and incompa ra ­
ble pain, for your immeasura ble courage, and for the strong rrmt
that you had in King Solomon and his word . "
The king had ba rely fin ished h i s speech when one o f h i s servants,
a prince of the court, brought him a silver platter covered with a
small, but remarkably embroidered, silk kerchief. The king removed
the kerchief before the eyes of the curious company. Beneath it was
a small, sealed golden box, which was entirely covered with pearls
and precious stones; it was a wondrous box whose fine design had
no equal. When the king opened its lid, the assembled were blinded.
Inside the box, on a soft backing of green silk, there shone with a
thousand powerful rays scintillating splendidly like a living thing a
large emerald, the identical twin of the emerald that was lying on
the table.
The entire assemblage was at first astounded at the sight-struck
dumb. Then an indescribable sound rose from the depths of all their
souls and receded after a while. It was like a lengthy sigh of aston­
ishment, as if a thousand empty water skins, pierced by swords, had
all at once exhaled their a ir in unison and collapsed. The eyes of the
assembled, struck blind, darted alternately from one emerald to the
other, never seeing their fill. Then all at once all eyes were fixed
upon Solomon, as if asking, "What is this? "
The king removed the emerald from the box, raised i t to the view
of the assemblage, and said: " Indeed, this, too, is one of God's mira­
cles and mysterious ways. This most precious emerald, the queen of
gems, was given to me as a gift by one of the trusted servants under
my command, the king of reptiles, the greatest of snakes, on the day
I ascended the throne. I secreted it in my treasure house in a secret
place for a propitious occasion, appointing the king of the serpents
to guard over it and assure its security. And now its time has come.
It is the twin sister of the emerald on the table. Birds of a feather do
flock together. Undoubtedly God's hand united these two living
souls. I t was His hand that brought together these two distant gems.
Who knows, perhaps these still stones also possess a living soul, per­
haps this stone's soul also yearned for its distant sister or brother
and it was God who arranged the circumstances to satisfy its desire.
For God did not create man alone but in pairs, man and woman,
278 The Legend of the Three and Four

and all flora and fauna as well. Why should nmwrganic substances
be inferior to them? Perhaps all the mighty forces of the universe, its
very foundations, hidden or revealed, near or far, great or small,
ranging from the host of heaven to the very dust of scales, from the
tiniest atom of matter to the spirit and power of all things, were
fashioned in pairs-male and female. And God implanted within
them the urge and desire to cleave to each other as one, and when
they longed for each other from afar, circled each other, constantly
pursued or were pursued, wandered to and fro, they knew no rest.
Is this not that great and eternal love, that mighty love of God, love
everlasting, the soul and spirit of every living being, which is stored
like fire in the bowels of the universe and of which no place is free ?
It suffers neither end nor destruction, and when it bursts forth and
reveals itself, it blazes mysterious roads and paths never foreseen or
hoped for by man."
And as he fixed the emerald as a headpiece on the wreath of white
lil ies crowning the bride's forehead, he continued: "The emerald
that Malkishuah's son carried to the House of God by his father's
command is a holy emerald, the holiest of the holies, because within
it are stored the grief of a father deep as the abyss and the mourning
for a mother, which is inconsolable, the true anguish of the heart,
and a pure hidden tear. This emerald, which I place as a beautiful
decoration on your curls, is likewise a sacred gem because it rises to
shine upon your pure brow on your wedding day like the dawn of a
new life. As it casts its many splendid rays upon you, may it be filled
with the splendor of the great love, the very torch and flame of God,
which at this very moment illuminates your inner soul, overflowing
with its radiance. Therefore please take this gem as a blessing from
the king's hand, and it shall be yours, for I give it to you . "
A s h e spoke, the king turned t o Malkishuah a n d said: " Your
amulet, Malkishuah the Zebulite from Sidon, shall be brought to
the House of God and shall be set in the curtain of the Holy of
Holies, as you have requested. When it casts its light upon it, as a
candle of grief and a pure tear of mourning, in memory of the wife
of your youth who died so suddenly, before her time, its twin sister
will gleam as a light of love and consolation on the head of your
new daughter, like God's joyous dewdrop, as she now enters your
home to illumine the darkness of its sheltering beams and gladden
its mournful corners like a bird. Enough, then, old man, of this
draining of the cup of sorrow to its dregs. Arise and smash it to the
The tegend of the Three and four 27�

ground in smithereens. See, God has now given you the «.:up of great
consolation. Seize it, drink, and bless God doubly. for he has
granted you a double consolation; he has returned your lost son and
has added a lovely daughter to your household. This is not a time
for mourning but a time to dance ! "
The king signaled the musi«.:ians and the pala«.:c resounded with
the sound of music, the resonance of lyres, the blasting of trumpets,
and the crashing of drums and cymbals. The da ncers joined in dan«.:­
ing, prancing, and stomping vigorously. The very ceiling tremhled at
their reeling. Joy flooded the palace.
When the table was served meats, they were selected from various
animals: venison and antelope meat and all edi ble fowl, both do­
mesticated and wild. The diligent waiters continued to serve one
delicacy after the other, many sweets, and every type of wine and
drink, never tiring. Who has not heard the fame of Solomon's ban­
quets ! The king commanded that a platter containing a whole ten­
der doe be p laced before the groom. Si lencing the musicians, he
said: " I have spoken words in honor of the bride. I cannot send off
the bridegroom empty-handed, for he is my brother today, my
equal. A crown shines on his head. You know, 'A bridegroom is like
a king!' How much the more so, one who is of the choicest of men,
an exemplary and valiant young man who has experienced wonders
and is blessed with good fortune, upon whom God has showered
great favor and many omens, too many to bear, while he is still ten­
der in years. By my soul, I shall not send him off before I, too, shall,
bless him. "
The king continued at first in a slightly mocking but good-natured
vein and then more earnestly: " See, I have commanded that you be
served a young doe, for I find that you are a brave hunter and a
skilled marksman who has no equal. On the day to which you re­
ferred, you tracked a wild doe, but you captured a loving, tame doe,
a dainty and sweet doe who is a delight to the eye and one's heart's
desire. Indeed you are a swift hunter and deft. Let your quarry then
be doubly blessed. May your bow always be taut and may your
quiver never lack sharp arrows throughout your life. Delight your
wife in your youth; she is a loving and enchanting doe; may her love
always be fulfilling and constant. A woman of charm honors her
husband, and he shall gain glory from her beauty. Let the woman
who is entering your home be a blessing and a j oy to you and a
great solace to your aging father. May you establish a new and
280 The Legend of the Three and Four

faithful home in Israel, as did Ruth the Moabite, who established

my father's royal house in Judah, and as did our first three patri­
archs, each of whom married daughters of Aram and founded the
house of Israel. "
Raising a cup of blessing before all the guests, the king continued:
" Let it not be said that King Solomon dismissed the bridegroom
with mere words. I have prepared an additional blessing for him: I
have today appointed you overseer over all the foreign trade of the
realm. You shall be in charge of the ships and caravans that enter
and depart from its borders. You shall oversee the commerce of our
land, its imports, and its exports and shall conduct its affairs faith­
fully and j ustly. As you served your father, you shall now serve me.
Although it is true that you are still young and have had not yet
been in the k ing's service, nevertheless, since I know your diligence
and your good sense and am not ignorant of your honesty and your
youthful courage, I do not fear placing this heavy and honorable of­
fice upon your shoulders. 'If you see a man who is quick and dili­
gent, let him stand before kings.' I have also appointed your father
as your mentor to assist and guide you. With his broad experience
and his great wisdom, he will be your eyes, and you, with your com­
petence and practical talents, will be his arms. The two of you shall
serve your king and nation with intelligence, with integrity, and
with vim and vigor. Your activities will bring a blessing to the land
and provide a livel ihood for many people. Long l i ve the valiant
Netanyah, and long live Malkishuah, the king's chief agent for ex­
ternal trade. Be strong, and be courageous ! "
All the guests a s one cheered the two loudly t o the sound o f drums
and cymbals, echoing the king: " Long live Netanyah son of
Malkishuah. Be strong and be courageous."
Netanyah rose to the applause, made a modest bow to the king,
and said: "I bow before you for having found favor in your eyes, my
lord the king, and for the recognition you have given me. I am un­
worthy to have received all your kindnesses. "
Then the king turned toward the King of Aram and continued:
"To you, too, King of Aram, I have only one more word to say and
then I shall desist. I have watched you sitting here all the time angry
and dispirited, as if upon a pile of scorpions. Who is pouring hot
coals on your head or roasting your flesh ? What evil spirit has pos­
sessed you ceaselessly? Who is it; tell me its name. I know that you
have a grievance against me and my father's house. for a long time,
The /,egend of the Three and frmr 2H I

you have been consumed by your hatred for David's seed and all the
seed of IsraeL I have not overlooked the fact that you are Ji,pleased,
very much displeased at the joke that God has played upon you hy
giving you as a son-in-law the son of Malkishuah, the enemy whom
you hate so intensely and against whom you have plotted for many
years; and even worse for you, that you must sit at the same table
and be unable to do him harm. Your heart is hea vy, hut you yourself
are a lightweight, 0 King of Aram! Have all the many peaceful Jays
that separate us from our fathers not diminished the fierce ha tred
you bear against us, a hatred that you had inherited from your fore­
fathers ? Even if we grant that this man had committed a bloody
crime against them, must you forever nurture your enmity? Is there
no reprieve from sin ? Must a man carry hostility in his breast with
him to the grave, as a leper bears the rot in his bones and the
spreading cancer in his flesh ? Lift the corners of your cloak and hare
your hips; are you not carrying an avenging sword hidden under
your clothes? Our ancestors hated one another but are long since
gone; their hatred and their jealousy have died with them. Shall we,
their sons, maintain that enmity forever? See now, the joviality of
friends and the happiness of love bursting all about you. The foun­
tain of glee flows freely and tumultuously as a powerful river. Can
your heart withstand this flood ? Do you wish to stem it with your
disdain? Hate is indeed deeper than the pit, but love is more power­
ful and stronger tha � hate and can overcome it! When love pours its
spirit upon man, it returns him to his primordial state, as God cre­
ated him. He no longer keeps petty accounts.
" Sons can tear down the walls of enmity, which the fathers have
erected row upon row and, in their great anger, have heightened
over the years to divide nation from nation and people from peo­
ple-this wall can be destroyed by the sons, together with its time­
worn stones and crumbling plaster down to the very foundations,
when in a single moment the spirit of love gathers them under its
wings. The eyes of vicious and arrogant hatred are like those of a
standing frog. When it stands erect, its eyes look backward, but
love's eyes look straight ahead. Why have you fastened your eyes on
the ground? Lift them up and see what stands before you. Are not
these two young souls, the chief cause of this banquet, your own
daughter, 0 King of Aram, and the son of your enemy Malkishuah
the Zebulite? Are they not living and true testimony that not the
breadth of the seas, not the desolation of distant isles, not prison
282 The Legend of the Three and Four

walls locked and sealed sevenfold, not even all of these together can
serve as barriers or withstand the power of love and its mighty roar
when it storms, terrible, beautiful, and full of godly valor, toward its
joyous destination and when it cuts its mysterious path, despite all
barriers, toward the goal it desires to attain? Shall the high walls of
the tower withstand the assault of the Israelite lad as he strives to
climb up to the Aramean girl ? How do you dare stand as a dividing
wall between them with your petty hatred ? Are your eyes displeased
with the union ? Is the doe of Aram not a fitting partner for this
handsome fawn of Israel ? Or do you really think you will be able to
sunder what God had j oined together ? Enough, 0 King of Aram,
forsake enmity and desist from vengeful wrath. Uproot them, as one
uproots a poisonous thorn. When love shouts its joyous song, ha­
tred turns dumb. No more vengeance, no more begrudging from
now on, no more quarreling or conflict. Let the former resentments
no longer be remembered. "
Suddenly the king held the bridegroom with h i s right hand and
the bride with his left and raised his voice: "Today we shall discover
how superior is the way of God to the ways of man, with his petty
and evil plots and deceits. Like a snake behind a fence, like a leop­
ard in his lair, the avenger lies in ambush waiting for his hated en­
emy in order to kill him furtively and extinguish the fire of his pas­
sion with his spilt blood. Year after year, he lies in ambush, never
resting until he carries out his abominable design. Afterwards, he
considers it a laudable act of great courage. But God has paths to re­
demption yet unknown to man. God does not place the task of re­
venge in Satan's hand but in the hands of the best of his angels, in
the hands of love. Blood for blood, a soul for a soul. Not by blood­
letting or killing does God redeem, but by giving seed and by in­
creasing life upon the earth-seed and new life, which are superior
to that which previously existed. Look here, these are the true
avengers of your brother's blood, 0 King of Aram. They stand be­
fore you today: your daughter and the son of Malkishuah. Today
your brother's blood has been redeemed by them. This is a redemp­
tion of peace; Malkishuah and his house are now cleansed of guilt.
You have arrived too late, 0 King of Aram. God has preceded you
and avenged you. Rise and praise His name for redeeming both
your soul and your brother's blood by preventing you from taking
innocent blood. for indeed, Malkishuah was always innocent of the
charge of murder, and you have persecuted him unj ustly. You hated
The l.egend of the Three and Four 2H 1

him in the past for a crime he did not commit. Did Malkishuah
shoot his arrow at your brother from some back al ley, or did he
come upon him in an open field? He encountered him as a valiant
warrior, and your brother died in battle like a brave �oldi er.
Malkishuah is free of bloodguilt. He is a man of honor who de­
serves the reward of heroes, for he faithfully served his king, nation,
and God, as did your brother, who shall be remembered forever be­
cause he risked his life in his people's honor. Who then is he who
makes false demands upon his neigh bor to pay a debt that he never
owed him, and how much the more so when it is an obsolete debt
incurred many years ago ? Can a throne be stable without mercy, can
it stand without j u stice? Come then, forbear, and view Malkishuah
as a man of peace. Accept the precious atonement that he has prof­
fered you, his only son, in whom he takes pride. Is this atonement
too little in your eyes? And if you reject it, by the life of God and all
h is good angels, I shall not leave this place until you bless this mar­
riage and make your peace with Malkishuah. Let us see whether
you will have the courage, after all that has been said, to reject with
hatred the hand that is offered to you in peace. "
The king rose a s h e spoke and rent the sheep that stood before
him into two equal parts. As he presented one part to the King of
Aram and the other to Malkishuah, he raised his voice and de­
clared: " I have split this sheep i n two today. Let it be a sign of a
covenant of peace between the two of you. As your chi ldren cleave
to each other and become one flesh, so shall you two become
united heart and soul forever. May true peace abide in your hearts
all the days of your life, and may your covenant never be violated
from this time until all eternity. Let it be said of your families that
love and peace have met-Amen, may God so do. Peace, peace to
them who are distant and them who are near. Peace, love, and
mercy. "
The eyes of all the guests turned toward the King of Aram and
Malkishuah to see whether Solomon's words had succeeded in
changing the hearts of both for good. Indeed Malkishuah rose and
went toward the King of Aram to greet him in peace. But the King
of Aram stil l hesitated, as if struggling with his soul at the very risk
of his life. When he raised his hitherto lowered eyes sl ightly from
the ground, the l ittle scorpions had almost disappeared, as if retreat­
ing to their holes, and only the ends of their tails still fluttered there
and writhed. Then Solomon lifted his glass and shouted an imperi-
284 The Legend of the Three and Four

ous command, "Scold Satan, 0 King of Aram, the angel of peace

awaits you. "
The call broke the resistance of the King o f Aram. H e crouched
even lower and, as if forced by a devil, quickly buried his scrawny
hand in the broad, strong hand that Malkishuah had extended to
him. He hid his face, as if to conceal his embarrassment. Solomon
saw his anguish and spoke words of encouragement to him: " Lift
your head and stand straight, 0 King of Aram, and dare to take a
risk. Today you have demonstrated that you are a true sovereign
and yours is the kingdom and the might. You have struggled with
yourself and have prevailed. This act of courage is greater in my
eyes than all the great deeds that you and your fathers have per­
formed until today. There is no greater ruler than he who rules over
his own spirit. No greater hero than he who conquers his own soul.
Long live the King of Aram and long live valiant Malkishuah as
well. May this double covenant, which you have made between you,
be a covenant of life and peace for you and your children after you
forever. Choirmaster, a song of praise ! "
Who can recount what followed a t that time i n the banquet hal l ?
A l l the court rules were forgotten, a n d even the emeralds were ig­
nored. From all ends of the table, the guests rushed to the king and
crowded around him. All stood high, their necks outstretched, their
hands extended. Everyone wanted to see the pact of peace that the
King of Aram and Malkishuah had concluded. And when the king's
" Long live" toast was offered, a thundering response rolled through
the hall and everyone shouted: " Long live King Solomon, prince of
peace, forever. Long live Jedidyah,8 the elect of both God and
mankind! May his throne be established forever and may his king­
dom endure from generation to generation . "
A mighty storm o f joy swept the hall and engulfed a l l who were i n
its precincts. Throats roared, mouths resounded, musical instru­
ments thundered, feet stamped-the very hall seemed to quake at
the sound of dancing. Soon the joy spread, flooding the courtyard
and its surroundings. The merrymaking of the banquet merged with
the celebration of the holiday. Masses of reveling holiday crowds
flowed from every street and alley. Pilgrims to the House of God
streamed to the king's palace, singing joyous songs. Like the waters

"One of K i nJ.; Solomon's sohriq uers, meaning friend of God.

The /.egeud of the Three a111i hmr

of a river, they poured into the king's outer and inner �.:ourryarJ�
and joined the banquet guests to form a single turbulent human �ea
of li mitless revel ry. Joy fil led the pala�.:e road.

19

The banquet lasted for all the seven days of the festiva l. On ea�.:h of
these days Solomon and his guests would go up ro worsh i p in the
House of God, rendering many vows and gift offerings. Ea�.:h Jay of
the festival, Solomon would sacrifice seventy oxen on the a ltar, a
number equal to the number of the nations of the world. The for­
eign k ings each sacrificed twelve sheep a day, the nu mber of the
tribes of Israel. And God's name was honored by the gentiles during
the holiday. Never had the House of God witnessed so much joy,
honor, and glory during all the days it existed in Jerusalem.
On the eighth day, which marked the close of the festi va l ,
Malkishuah, Netanyah, and Ketziyah, his bride, went up t o the
House of God to fulfill the vows that Malkishuah had given through
Netanyah when he had sent him away.
Now when Netanyah gave his father's emerald to the officer in
charge of the treasury of God's house, Ketziyah removed the emer­
ald from her diadem, that is, the emerald with which Solomon had
decorated her, placed it on Netanyah's emerald, and said: "Let this
gem, the gift of King Solomon, be sacred to God and let it be placed
on the curtain of the Holy of Holies beside its twin sister so that
they might both shine forever before God. These are twin sisters
whom God has j oined, why should I separate them? I know that the
king will not be angry at this act, for there is no one wiser than he
who comprehends the heart. Am I not right, Netanya h ? "
A s she spoke, a very strange and mysterious smile crossed her lips,
but Netanyah's eyes failed to discern it. His heart flourished like
grass as he recognized his wife's piety and her holy i nnocence, all of
which added to the beauty of her youth and her charm.
The two gems were fixed in the curtain, each alongside its sister,
as Ketziyah had desired and declared. They were a pure pair in the
presence of God. Whoever came to the House of God saw the two
emeralds high on the curtain and would say: "These are the two
tears of God, which have fallen from his overflowing cup. It is God's
28 6 The Legend of the Three and Four

double gift to humankind in order to relieve and redeem them: a

tear of sorrow and a tear of joy."
That day the k ings who had been Solomon's guests and their ret­
inues hurried to return to their countries and their thrones. Even
now we do not know what they thought. Were they pleased by
Solomon's greatness, were they happy, or were they sad? They were
all silent when they departed, closed-mouthed like silent dogs.
Unique among them was the King of Tyre, who remained un­
changed. His eyes smiled the thinnest of smiles, as before. But his
heart was like a child's, generous and guileless. He was Solomon's
closest friend and was proud of him and his greatness. But he con­
sidered himself to be wily and enjoyed playing the wise man, scoff­
ing and posing as unconventional and skeptical. He had faith in
only one thing, his true love for Solomon, a strong and fierce love,
which showed no favor but which, nevertheless, would forgive any
offense. Thi s is why Solomon returned his love in equal measure
and chose him alone as his confidant. He would bring to him his in­
nermost thoughts and permit him to look behind their mask.
Solomon's conversations with him i n the privacy of a room where
no stranger was present greatly delighted him. Now, too, when the
King of Tyre came to bid him farewell with the rest of the kings,
Solomon kept him in his pa lace for an additional day. In the
evening, at the close of the banquet and the festival, when melan­
choly overtook Solomon and his soul was troubled, the two closeted
themselves, room within room, while the shadows of evening gath­
ered them under a single wing. But whatever occurred between the
two within the walls of the room no ear has ever heard-that is why
the words of this scroll must now conclude.
 Glossary

Al,ad Ha-amist a supporter of the cultural Zionism articulated hy Ahad

Ha-am, the pen name of Asher Ginsburg ( 1 856-1 927).
Aleinu prayer recited near the end of Jewish worship services.
Aleph the first letter of the Hebrew alphabet.
Baal Shem Tov "Master of the Good Name . " The title of Rabbi Israel
Baal Shem Tov-the alleged founder of Hasidism.
Bar Mitzvah the age of responsibility, according to Jewish law, when a
boy is thirteen.
Beit Midrash communal house of study.
Cholent a Sabbath stew prepared before the Sabbath and kept warm
overnight, usually eaten at midday.
Golem creature made in an artificial way by an act of magic, hence some-
thing untamed and dumb.
Goy (female: goyah; plural: goyim) gentile.
Jjallah a loaf of white bread eaten on the Sabbath.
Hamantaschen a traditional sweet roll eaten on the festival of Purim to
commemorate the hanging of Haman.
Jjametz foods containing leavened material and therefore forbidden to
eat or touch during Passover.
Hanukah a minor Jewish holiday celebrating the rededication of the
Temple in the second century B.C.E. Traditionally, children were given
gifts of small coins as part of the festivities.
Ha-Pardes a Hebrew journal advocating Al,ad Ha-amist ideals.
l:laroset a mixture of grated or chopped fruits (apples, walnuts, and wine)
eaten during the Passover Seder ( meal) to symbolize the clay mixture that
the Children of Israel had to prepare to form building bricks during their
enslavement in Egypt.
Ha-Shiloa!J an intellectual Al,ad Ha-amist Hebrew periodical.
Haskalah the Jewish enlightenment movement, which strove to modern­
ize East European Jewish culture in the nineteenth century.

287
288 Glossary

Havdalah a special home service that marks the end-of the Sabbath.
}::Ieder one-room classroom for religious education.
}::l ovevei Tsion " Lovers of Zion," a pre-Herzlian Zionist movement,
formed in the 1 880s.
Ifumash (plural Ifumashim) the Pentateuch, the first five books of the
Bible.
Ifupah wedding canopy.
Iluy "genius"-a name given to a bright Talmud student.
Kaddish a doxology often recited as a memorial prayer.
Kapote a long coat or caftan, worn by ultraorthodox Jews.
Kashrut the observation of the laws pertaining to the selection and
preparation of kosher food.
Katsaps Russian farmers settled in Volhynia by the czarist regime.
Kiddush a short service held at home before partaking of meals celebrat­
ing the Sabbath or holidays. Also used for a buffet to celebrate special
occasiOns.
Kreplach plural of krepel, a traditional ravioli-type pasta eaten on festive
occasiOns.
Le-/:Jayim "To life." The customary toast said over wine or liquor.
Little Talit [Tzitzit] a four-cornered ritual undergarment worn by male
Jews.
Lokshen noodles.
Loshen truvki a derisive term for the Hebrew language.
Lulav a palm branch, one of the " four components" used at the Sukkot
(Tabernacles) service.
Maamadot originally, a term designating the twenty-four "watches" of
priests, Levites, and representatives of the people who served as officia­
tors at the Temple rituals in Jerusalem. After the destruction of the
Temple in 70 C.E., special prayers, including readings of the order of the
sacrifices, instituted to commemorate the sacrifices overseen by the maa­
madot.
Matzah unleavened crackers used instead of bread during Passover.
Maze/ Tov congratulatory expression, literally "good luck" or "good for­
tune."
Me/:Jokek an engraver.
Melamed (plu ral melamdim ) the traditional Hebrew teacher of the
heder; hence "melamdism" is a disparaging term denoting an incompe­
tent, unworldly view of life or culture.
Glossary

Melaveh Maika literally, " acwmpanying the Quee n " ( i .e., the �ahhath).
The late-afternoon Sahbath meal marking the approach111g enJ of the
Sabbath.
Mezuzah amulet placed on Jewish doorposts containing hihlical ver'e'.
Minyan ( plural minyanim) quorum of at least ten adult male' required
for the holding of a public act of worship.
Mishnah code of Jewish law wmpiled circa 200 L L .
Mitzvah a religious law or commandment. The term is also useJ ro de,ig­
nate a kind of righteous act.
Phylacteries see Tefillin.
Purim a minor festival commemorating the saving of the Jews from the
wicked Haman, as recorded in the Book of Esther.
Rabbi title of an ordained religious leader of a Jewish congregation.
Reb designates a respectable Jewish personage.
Rebbe teacher.
Rebbitzin Rabbi's wife.
Rosh Hashanah the Jewish New Year holiday, usually occurring in
September.
Seder Passover service and meal.
Shalom Aleichem Hello-literally: peace be upon you.
Shavuot Pentecost.
Shiksah a gentile woman.
Shkola Slavic word for school.
Shofar ram's horn, blown at the service for the New Year and the Day of
Atonement.
Shol;1et an authorized slaughterer of fowl or other kosher animals, who
had to be well versed in all the regulations regarding the proper proce­
dure.
Short Friday the Friday closest to the winter solstice. Orthodox Jews
must cease all work on Friday prior to sundown.
Shul/:1an Amkh codification of Jewish law by Rabbi Joseph Karo in the
sixteenth century.
Sukkah a festive booth used traditionally during the Suk kot
(Tabernacles) holiday.
Talit a prayer shawl worn by adult male worshippers.
Talmud code of Jewish law compiled circa 500 C. E.
Tefillin phylacteries, worn by men on the head and arm during the week­
day morning service.
290 Glossary

Tikkun a private midnight service held by the pious.at horne consisting of

psalms, supplications, and lamentations at the destruction of jerusalem.
Tikkun Leah specific tikkun recited on ordinary weekdays (excluding
Mondays and Thursdays) and on the Sabbath and festivals.
Tikkun &u:hel the tikkun ritual reserved for Mondays and Thursdays.
Tikkun Shavuot a compilation of readings after midnight on the first
night of Pentecost.
Tsaddik (plural Tsaddikim) holy man, especially among Hasidirn.
Tsimes a dish of various cooked vegetables, usually including carrots,
slightly sweet.
Yannulke skullcap.
Yeshivah an academy for Talmudic learning and the training of Rabbis.
Zhid a derogatory Slavic term for a jew.
 Further Reading

English Translations of Bialik 's Works

P O ET R Y

Carmi, T., trans. Penguin Book o f Hebrew Verse ( bilingua l ) . New York:
Viking Press, 1 98 1 . Pp. 1 8-33 .
Efros, Israel, trans. Selected Works o f lfayyim Na�man Bialik ( bilingua l ) .
N e w York: Bloch Publishing Co. and Histadrut lvrit, 1 965.
Nevo, Ruth, trans. Chaim Na�man Bialik: Poems from the Hebrew (bilin­
gual). Jerusalem: Dvir and Jerusalem Post, 1 9 8 1 .
Rivner, Tuvyah, trans. The M odern Hebrew Poem Itself ( bilingual). Edited
by Stanley Burnshaw, T. Carmi, and Ezra Spicehandler. Cambridge,
Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1 989. Pp. 1 8-33.

fiCTION

Danby, Herbert. And It Came to Pass. New York: Hebrew Publishing Co.,
1 93 8 .
Danby, Herbert. Knight of Onions and Knight of Garlic. New York:
Jordan Publishing Co., 1 939.
Lask, I. M. Aftergrowth and Other Stories. New York: Jewish Publication
Society, 1 9 3 9.
Lask, I. M. "Aryeh the Brawny." Israel Argosy 7 ( 1 960).
Patterson, David. "Aftergrowth, Chapter 1." The Jewish Quarterly 20, no.
4 (winter 1 973 ). Pp. 1 7-1 8.

Works on Bialik
Aberbach, David. Bialik. London: Weidenfeld and Nicholson, 1 98 8 .
Bateson, M. C. "The Riddle of Two Worlds. " Daedalus 95 ( 1 96 6 ) . Pp.
740-762.

291
292 Further Reading

Patterson, David. The Foundations of Modern · Hebrew Literature.

London: Liberal Jewish Synagogue, 1 9 6 1 .
Spicehandler, Ezra. The Modern Hebrew Poem Itself. Cambridge: Harvard
University Press, 1 989. Pp. 1 9 9-200.
Spicehandler, Ezra, and Samuel Leiter. "l:layyim NaQman Bialik . " In
Encyclopaedia ]udaica, Vol. 4. Pp. 795-803.
Yudkin, Leon. "The Quintessence of Bialik's Poetry. " In Escape into Siege.
London: Routledge and Kegan Paul and The Littman Library of Jewish
Civilisation, 1 974. Pp. 1 9-3 8 .
 Index

Aggadah, 4, 1 5 , 228 Bialik, Hayyim Nahman

Ahad Ha-am, 2, 4, 5, 1 3 3-34 and " common folk," 1 5
A�ad Ha-amist poetry of Bialik, 3, 5, and metrical patterns, 5-6, 7
10 as greatest modern Hebrew writer, I ,
Aleichem, Shalom, 1 34 16
Alexander II, Czar, 1 life of, 1-6, 1 5 , 1 7-1 8
Alphabet, 33-35, 36 narrative skill of, 1 4
Alter "Cockerel," 1 34, 1 5 8-62 poetry of, 6-1 2
Amon, King of, 229, 232, 234 stories of, 1 3- 1 6
Anah, 52 Bible, 35, 4 5 , 4 9
Antisemitism, 9 Big Harry, 1 3 6-79
Apples, 82 and the baa/ guf as stock comic
Aram, King of, 232, 234, 236, 242, character, 13 3
2 7 1 , 272, 273, 280-84 and Bialik's narrative skill, 14
Ariel, 220 commentary on, 1 33-35
Artist and society, 1 9 comparison to Short Friday, 2 1 3
Aryeh Baal Guf (Big Harry), 4 , 1 3 3-79 Jewish cha racters in, 1 5
See also Big Harry and social realism, 1 4
"At the Threshold of the Beit Midrash" and treatment o f gentiles, 1 3
(poem), 3 See also Aryeh Baal Guf (Big Harry)
Authorities on high, 1 82 "Big Man," 1 3 9, 1 4 1 , 147
Bird, magic, 239, 240, 252, 268-69
Baal guf, as stock comic character, 1 3 3 British Mandate of Palestine, 4
Baal Shem Tov, 1 90 Bulls, 72
Baba, 1 5 8 , 1 6 1 Bundles, 1 40
Balaam, 64
Bar mitzvah, 1 2 1 Captain of police, 1 8 6 , 1 96
Baruch, Reb of, 1 48-49 Characters
Bathyah, Queen, 63, 273, 274 Alter "Cockeral," 1 34, 1 5 0-62
Beatings, 88-89, 9 1 , 95, 96, 1 00, Amon, King of, 229, 232, 234
1 1 8- 1 9 Aram, King of, 232, 234, 236, 242,
Behind the Fence, 84- 1 3 1 271 , 272, 273, 280-84
and Bialik's narrative skill, 1 4 Baba, 1 5 8 , 1 6 1
commentary on, 8 1 -83 Baruch, Reb, 1 4 8-49
Jewish characters in, 1 5 Bathyah, Queen, 273, 274
and treatment o f gentiles, 1 3, 1 4 Bird, magic, 239, 240, 252, 268-69

293
294 Index

Captain of police, 1 8 6 , 1 96 Mother (The Shamed Trumpet), 1 86,

Cross-eyed sergeant, 1 86, 1 94 1 89, 1 92, 1 93, 1 99-200, 206,
Eagle, white, 237, 238, 239, 240, 207, 208
270-7 1 ; and bringing of food to Mother [Pessi) ( Random Harvest),
tower, 240, 254-55, 267, 268, 30, 3 1 , 36, 4 1 , 75, 77
269; and saving of Netanyah, Naama, 234
249-50 Nahum, 66-67
Egypt, King of, 232, 234, 271, 273 Natke Kambala, 1 1 1
Father ( Random Harvest), 29-30, Netanyah, 229-30, 244-69, 272,
3 1 , 3 8 , 40, 48, 74-79 273, 274, 278, 280, 285
Father (The Shamed Trumpet). See Netka, 67
Characters, Yosi Noah, 8 1-83, 90- 1 3 1
Feigele, 2 1 , 24, 26, 68, 69, 70-71 Parasha, 1 84
Funfy, Matty, 1 2 1 , 1 22 Pesach-ltzi, 1 8 8, 1 8 9, 1 90, 1 9 1 , 1 92,
Gadi, Reb, 1 90 204, 206

Gershon, Reb, 46 Pyetka, 1 92-93

Samuel, 1 8 8, 1 92, 1 93 , 1 98, 1 99,
Gootsy, 85, 86, 99, 106
2 0 1 , 202; after his arrival home,
Hanina Lippa, 90-92, 1 03, 1 06,
202-3, 205, 206, 208
1 1 8- 1 9, 121, 123, 1 27
Sashke the Wolf, 1 94, 1 95
Hannah, 1 37, 1 3 8, 142-43, 1 45,
Schumulik, 2 1-79
1 46, 1 54, 1 6 1 , 163, 1 6 7-77
Serafim, 90, 93, 1 1 1 , 1 1 4
Harry Goat, 4, 8 3 , 1 36-79
Shakoripin, 85-89, 9 1 -99, 1 03-9,
Hershele, 67
1 1 2, 123, 1 25-27, 1 3 1
Hirsch, Reuben, 1 09- 1 1 , 1 1 3
Shakoripinshchika, 84-95,
K-bi, Rebbe of, 1 5 1 , 1 52, 1 69
1 07, 1 0 8
Ketziyah, 229, 272, 273, 274,
Shefil, 1 6 0-6 1 , 1 62, 1 79
275-77, 285; in the tower, 236,
Shmargaz, 98
238-4 1 , 252-53, 254, 265-69
Solomon, King, 229, 230-3 1 , 269,
Lampidretzky, 142, 1 63 , 1 64-65
270, 272, 273, 274-86; banquet
Lippa, Rabbi, 2 1 4-26
and wager of, 232-36; daughter
Makarka, 93, 1 1 1 , 1 1 7, 1 1 8, 1 20 of, 227-28; and flying cloak, 237,
Malkishuah, 82, 241-47, 272, 273, 238, 239, 270-7 1 ; and placing of
274, 278, 280, 282-85 Ketziyah in tower, 236-39;
Marinka, 8 1 -83, 85-1 3 1 tongue of, 233
Marusya, 34 Styupe, 1 85, 1 1:1 7, 1 94-95, 1 99,
Meir, Reb, 46-49, 69 202, 203, 204, 206, 208
Melamed (teacher), 32, 33 Todi, 66-67
Mendel, Reb, 1 49 Trochim, 45
Mintsa, 98 Tsaddik of K., 1 46
Mitka, 45 Tsipa Leah, 90, 92, 100, 1 07,
Mitra, 1 34, 1 57, 15 9, 1 60, 1 6 1 1 1 0- 1 1 , 1 1 9-2 1, 124-26, 1 30
Moab, King of, 232, 234-35 Tyre, King of, 232, 233-34, 239,
Moses Aaron, Reb, 209- 1 0 273, 274, 286
Moshe, 1 62-64, 1 78 Vasili, 1 92
Mother (The l.egend of the Three Velvele, 66
and Four), 244, 25!1-59 Yavdoha ( Random Harvest), 4.1
Index

Yavdoha (The Shamed Trumpet), Enli�htcnmcnt, J<-wi'h (H,JSkalah), I, �

1 9], 1 99, 205, 206, 207 post, 2 1 1
Yosi, 1 85-89, 1 92, 1 93-98, 206, 1-:rzielnmxsromall, 2.l0
207, 208 Eve, 82
Zelda, 1 8 8 Exodus from E�ypr, I H2
Zelig (Big Harry), 1 62 Ezra, !I
Zelig (The Shamed Trumpet), 1 8 7,
1 8 8, 1 89, 1 92, 206 Faith, 1 !1 ]
Childhood world, 23-24, 27 Faith in God, loss of, 1 1
Chronicle ofjosipon, 8 Father ( Random Harvest), 29-]0, ] I ,
Circumcision, 2 1 5 ] !1 , 40, 46, 74-79
"City o f Sla ughter, The" ( poem), 6 Father (The Shamed TrumfJet). See Ymi
Clergymen, errant, 2 1 1 Feibke, 22]-25, 226
Communist Revolution, 4 Feigele, 2 1 , 24, 26, 6!1, 69, 70-7 1
Corpse, 1 5 1 -52 Fench, 82
Cross-eyed sergeant, 1 86, 1 94 Fichman, Jacob, 4
Fire, heavenly, 8, 9, 227
David, King, 23 1 , 24 1 , 242, 243 Flame, 4 1 -42
"Dead of the Wilderness, The" (poem), Flying, 26
6-7 Flying cloak of King Solomon, 237,
Death, 1 5 0 238, 239, 270-7 1
Degeneration of Russian Jewish life, See also Eagle, white
134 Foundling, 1 0 1
Dream Friends o f Zion, 2
of mother and serpent, 257-59 Funfy, Matty, 1 2 1 , 122
of return from fair and mysterious
creature, 29 Gadi, Reb, 1 90
Dubnow, Simon, 1 8 1 Garden, planting of, 97
Dvir publishing house, 4 Garden of Eden, 82-83, 1 82
Dwarfs, 73 Gershon, Reb, 46
Getzi, Reb, 2 1 5 , 2 1 7- 1 8
Eagle, white, 237, 238, 239, 240, Ghost, 9 9
270-71 Gibeon, 243
bringing of food to tower, 240, Ginsburg, Asher, 1 33
254-55, 267, 268, 269 "Goats and Wolf," 1 8 9-90
and saving of Netanyah, 249-50 God of Israel, 6
Eden, Garden of, 82-83, 1 82 God's
Egypt, King of, 232, 234, 271, 273 grace, 22
Ehrlich, Victor, 5 intervention in love and courtship,
Elijah, 1 90, 200 234, 275-77
Emerald, 229, 230, 246, 258, 259-60, judgment, 1 5 1 -52
265, 274, 275, 277 Gogo), Nikolai Vasilievich, 1 34
and Holy of Holies, 2 8 5 Goncharov, Ivan, 1 34
a n d serpent, 230, 258, 259-60, 262, Gootsy, 85, 86, 99, 1 06
264 Gordon, Judah Leib, 1 8
Solomon's, 277, 278, 285 Gorky, Maxim, 4
296 Index

Grail, Holy, 227 Jewish Pale, 1 8 1-

Grandpa of Shpola, 1 90 Joseph, 62
Grove beyond river Titirov, 59-61 Judaism, contrast of Western and
Eastern European, 10
Halacha (Jewish law), 82
Halevi, Yehuda, 7 Kashinev pogrom of 1 903,"6
" Ha-Matmid" [The Diligent Talmud Kasiinierz, Jan, 8
Student] (poem), 3 K-bi, Rebbe of, 1 5 1 , 1 52, 1 69
Hariina Lippa, 90-92, 1 03 , 1 06, Ketziyah, 229, 272, 273, 274, 275-77,
1 1 8- 1 9, 1 2 1 , 1 23 , 1 27 285
Hannah, 1 37, 1 3 8 , 142-43, 145, 146, in the tower, 236, 238-4 1 , 252-53,
154, 1 6 1 , 1 63, 1 6 7-77 254, 265-69
Ha-Pardes, 2 Kiddush at Harry Goat's, 1 70-77
Harry Goat, 4, 83, 1 36-79 Kinah (lament), 6
Ha-Shiloal;, 8 Klausner, Josef, 5, 1 7, 20
and Aryeh Baal Guf (Big Harry), Koziovka, 1 9 8
133 Krasinski, 8
and Random Harvest, 1 7 K urzweil, Baruch, 1 0
Haskalah movement, 1 , 5
post, 2 1 1 Lachover, P., 7
Hebrew Lampidretzky, 142, 1 63 , 1 64-65
Bialik's mastery of, 1 33-34 Language of the Gods, 1 2
creation of new style by Bialik, "Last Word, The" (poem), 5
228-29 Legend of the Three and Four, The,
Hebrew idiom, modern, 1 3 232-86
Hebrew literature, modern, 1 6 commentary on, 1 6 , 227-3 1
Hebrew poets and metrical systems, Lermentov, Mikhail Yurievich, 1 3
5-6, 7 Levin, Eliyahu, 2 1 1-12
Hershele, 67 Lippa, Rabbi, 2 1 4--26
Hind of Dawn, 8, 9, 1 0 Loksh, 43-47
Hirsch, Reuben, 1 09-1 1 , 1 1 3 Lumber dealers, 1 3 4
Holy Fire, 8 , 9, 227
Holy Grail, 8 Makarka, 93, 1 1 1 , 1 1 7, 1 1 8, 1 20
Holy of Holies, 229, 278 Malkishuah, 82, 24 1 -47, 272, 273,
House of God, 246, 2 84--8 5 274, 278, 280, 282-85
/jeder (school), 32-3 8, 43-47 Marinka, 8 1 -83, 85-1 3 1
Reb Meir's, 47-53
Marusya, 34
and Reuben Hirsch, 1 09-1 1 Meir, Reb, 46-4 8 , 66
Hibbat Tsion (Love of Zion), 4 Melamed (teacher), 32, 33, 43, 46-47,
Hovevei Tsion ( Lovers of Zion), 1 -2 1 09-1 1
Melaveh malkah meal, 1 9 1
lntergenerational conflict, 2 3 1 Melody, 6 8 , 70, 7 1 , 73-74
l ntertextuali ty, 1 4 Mendel, Reb, 1 49
lvan, 2 1 8 , 2 1 9-20, 225 Metrical systems, Hebrew poets, 5-6, 7
Mickiewicz, Adam, 8
Jeremiah, prophet, R Midrashic materials, 1 5, 227, 228
Jewish freedom movements, 1 -2 Mintsa, 98
Index 297

Minyan, 1 8 8-89 Pesach·ltzi, I HH, I H 9, 1 90, 1 9 1 , 1 92,

Mirror, 3 1 -32 204, 206
Mitka, 45 Phylacrerie�. 1 20
Mitra, 1 34, 1 5 7, 1 59, 1 60, 1 6 1 Pitch-Makers' Quarter, .S6-.S9
Moab, King of, 232, 234-35 and tales of olden rime�. 62-66
Moriah publishing house, 4 Poems, collected, of Bialik, .S
Moses, 53, 63, 67, 209 Poets as prophets, .S
Moses Aaron, Reb, 209-10 Police pay o ffs , I H5-H6
Moshe, 1 62-64, 178 Polish national poets, H
Mother ( The Legend of the Three and "Pond, The" (poem), 6, 10- 1 2, 20
Four), 244, 258-59 Prayer book, 33, 35
Mother ( The Shamed Trumpet), 1 86, Prophetic style in Bialik's poetry, .S , 6
1 89, 1 92, 1 93, 1 98, 1 99-200, Prophets, Hebrew, 5
206, 207, 208 Purpose, 77-78
Mother [Pessi] (Random Harvest), 30, Pushkin, Aleksandr Sergeyevich, 13
3 1 , 36, 4 1 , 73, 77
Pyerka, 1 92-9 3
Mount Zion, 236
Python, 260-65, 274
Mouth of the stove, 40-43
Mysteries everywhere, 22
Rabba bar bar Hanna, 58
Random Harvest, 2 1 -79
Naama, 234
commentary on, 1 7-20
Nahum, 66-67
Jewish characters in, 1 5
Nationalist orientation in Bialik, 7
publication history of, 1 7
Natke Kambala, 1 1 1 , 1 1 7
Ravnirsky, I . H . , 2, 4
Natural history, 66-68
Reconciliation, 230
Nazi tide, 230
Redemption, 1 82-83
Nehemiah, 8
Ruler of the World, 1 2
Netanyah, 229-30, 244-69, 272, 273,
Russian Jews, 1-2
274, 278, 280, 2 8 5
Russian l iterary traditions, 1 3
Netka, 67
Nicknames, 44-45 Ruth, 280
Noah, 8 1-8 � , 90-1 3 1
Sabbath, 1 8 8-92, 2 1 2
Oak tree, 239, 256, 262, 263-65 Safia/:1, 1 8
Odessa, 2, 4, 5, 6 Salamander, 42, 43
Og, 52-53 Samuel, 1 8 8, 1 92, 1 93, 198, 1 99, 201,
202
after his arrival home, 202-3, 205,
Palestine
British Mandate of, 4 . 206, 208
Ottoman, 1 -2 Sashke the Wolf, 1 94, 1 95
Palestinian Jews, 230 Schmulik, 2 1 -79
Parasha, 1 84, 1 99, 200 School ():Ieder), 32-38, 43-47
Parrot. See Bird, magic and Reuben Hirsch, 1 09-1 1
Passover, 1 82, 1 83-84, 200, 20 1 , 208, Reb Meir's, 47-53
209-10 "Scroll of Fire, The," 6, 7-10, 227,
Pere Goriot (Balzac), 1 3 4 228, 229
Persecution of Jews, 9 Second Temple, 8
298 Index

Sefer ha-Aggadah (The Book of Stove, mouth of, 40-43

Legends), 4, 1 5 , 228 Styupe, 1 8 5 , 1 87, 1 94-95, 1 99, 202,
Sefi/.1im, 1 8 203 , 204, 206, 208
Sefarim, Mendele Mocher, 4 , 1 3, 1 34 Summer, 2 1
Serafim, 90, 93, 1 1 1 , 1 14 Superstitions, 1 5 1
Serpent. See Snake Symbolist movement, 1 3-14
Shakoripin, 85-1 3 1 , 85-89, 9 1-99,
103-9, 1 1 2, 1 23, 125-27, 1 3 1 Talmudic legends, 6-7, 8, 15
Shakoripinshchika, 84-95, 1 07, 1 08 Teacher (melamed), 32, 33, 43,
Shamed Trumpet, The, 1 85-2 1 0 46-47
and Bialik's narrative skill, 1 4 Tears of God, 246, 285-86
commentary on, 1 8 1-84 Tel Aviv, 4
comparison to Short Friday, 2 1 3 Temple of Jerusalem, 8, 227, 228
Jewish cha racters i n , 1 5 "Temporary May Laws," 1 8 1
and treatment o f gentiles, 1 3, 1 4 Terah, 63
Shamir, Zeva, 1 7- 1 8 Tevyeh, 1 3 4
Sheba ben Bikri, 242 Thumb sucking, 3 0 , 35, 37-38
Shefil, 1 6 0-6 1 , 1 62, 1 79 Titirov (river), 58, 59, 62
Shimon Bar-Yochai, Rabbi, 49 Todi, 66-67
Shmargaz, 98 Torah, 49-50, 1 1 0, 1 8 9, 206
Shohet, 1 90, 1 9 1 Tower, 237-39, 25 1 , 252-56, 264-69,
Short Friday, 2 1 426 271-72
and Bialik's narrative skill, 1 4 Traveler, 53-56
commentary o n , 2 1 1 - 1 3 Trochim, 45
and non-Jewish characters, 1 4 Trumpet, 1 82, 1 83 , 201-2, 203-4,
Sidon, 2 4 1 , 242, 243 210
Slapping, 75-76 Tsaddikim, 1 5 3
Slowacki, Juliusz, 8 Tsaddik o f K., 1 4 6
Smolenskin, Peretz, 1 34 Tsipa Leah, 90, 9 2 , 1 00, 1 07, 1 1 0-1 1 ,
Snakes, 7 1 , 82, 230 1 1 9-2 1 , 1 24-26, 1 3 0
and the emerald, 258, 259-60, 262, Tyre, King of, 2 3 2 , 233-34, 2 3 9 , 273,
264 274, 286
killing, 1 05
and Solomon's emerald, 277 Upper-class Jews, 1 47-48
See also Python
Social realism, 1 3, 1 4 Vasili, 1 92
Solomon, King, 1 5 , 1 35, 229, 230-3 1 , Vayechi, 1 1 6
269, 270, 272, 273, 274-86 Velvele, 66
banquet and wager of, 232-36 Village, native, 21-27, 6 8-74
daughter of, 227-28 Visions of God, 22-23
and flying cloak, 237, 238, 239, Volhynia, 25, 133, 1 8 1 , 2 1 3
270-7 1
and placing of Ketziyah in tower, Wall, 38-40
236-39 "Wandering Afar" (poem), 2
tongue of, 233 Wa rsaw, 4, 8, 1 0
" Song of Israel, The", (poem), 3 Weizmann, Chaim, 23 1
Index 299

World Zionist Movement, Yokum, 224

23 1 Yosi, 1 8 5-89, 1 92, 1 9.1-911, 206, 207,
201!
Yavdoha ( Random Harvest),
43 Zelda, 1 8 8
Yavdoha ( The Shamed Trumpet), 1 93, Zelig ( Big Harry), 1 62
1 99, 205, 206, 207 Zelig (The Shamed Trumpet), 1 1!7,
Yeshivah of Volozhin, 1 1 88, 1 1!9, 1 92, 206
Yiddish literature, 1 3 Zhitomir, I , 2, I 5, 82, U4
Yiddish vulgarisms, 1 33 Zionism, 2 , 230, 2 3 1