Ezrielk The Scribe

: ISAIAH LERNER

Forty days before Ezrielk descended upon this sinful world, his

life-partner was proclaimed in Heaven, and the Heavenly Council decided

that he was to transcribe the books of the Law, prayers, and Mezuzehs

for the Kabtzonivke Jews, and thereby make a living for his wife and

children. But the hard word went forth to him that he should not

disclose this secret decree to anyone, and should even forget it himself

for a goo ly number of years. A glance at Ezrielk told one that he had

been well lectured with regard to some important matter, and was to tell

no tales out of school. Even Minde, the Kabtzonivke Bobbe, testified to

this:



"Never in all my life, all the time I've been bringing Jewish children

into God's world, have I known a child scream so loud at birth as

Ezrielk--a sign that he'd had it well rubbed into him!"



Either the angel who has been sent to fillip little children above the

lips when they are being born, was just then very sleepy (Ezrielk was

born late at night), or some one had put him out of temper, but one way

or another little Ezrielk, the very first minute of his Jewish

existence, caught such a blow that his top lip was all but split in two.



After this kindly welcome, when God's angel himself had thus received

Ezrielk, slaps, blows, and stripes rained down upon his head, body, and

life, all through his days, without pause or ending.



Ezrielk began to attend Cheder when he was exactly three years old. His

first teacher treated him very badly, beat him continually, and took all

the joy of his childhood from him. By the time this childhood of his had

passed, and he came to be married (he began to wear the phylacteries and

the prayer-scarf on the day of his marriage), he was a very poor

specimen, small, thin, stooping, and yellow as an egg-pudding, his

little face dark, dreary, and weazened, like a dried Lender herring. The

only large, full things about him were his earlocks, which covered his

whole face, and his two blue eyes. He had about as much strength as a

fly, he could not even break the wine-glass under the marriage canopy by

himself, and had to ask for help of Reb Yainkef Butz, the beadle of the

Old Shool.



Among the German Jews a boy like that would have been left unwed till he

was sixteen or even seventeen, but our Ezrielk was married at thirteen,

for his bride had been waiting for him seventeen years.



It was this way: Reb Seinwill Bassis, Ezrielk's father, and Reb Selig

Tachshit, his father-in-law, were Hostre Chassidim, and used to drive

every year to spend the Solemn Days at the Hostre Rebbe's. They both

(not of you be it spoken!) lost all their children in infancy, and, as

you can imagine, they pressed the Rebbe very closely on this important

point, left him no peace, till he should bestir himself on their behalf,

and exercise all his influence in the Higher Spheres. Once, on the Eve

of Yom Kippur, before daylight, after the waving of the scape-fowls,

when the Rebbe, long life to him, was in somewhat high spirits, our two

Chassidim made another set upon him, but this time they had quite a new

plan, and it simply had to work out!



"Do you know what? Arrange a marriage between your children! Good luck

to you!" The whole company of Chassidim broke some plates, and actually

drew up the marriage contract. It was a little difficult to draw up the

contract, because they did not know which of our two friends would have

the boy (the Rebbe, long life to him, was silent on this head), and

which, the girl, but--a learned Jew is never at a loss, and they wrote

out the contract with conditions.



For three years running after this their wives bore them each a child,

but the children were either both boys or both girls, so that their vow

to unite the son of one to a daughter of the other born in the same year

could not be fulfilled, and the documents lay on the shelf.



True, the little couples departed for the "real world" within the first

month, but the Rebbe consoled the father by saying:



"We may be sure they were not true Jewish children, that is, not true

Jewish souls. The true Jewish soul once born into the world holds on,

until, by means of various troubles and trials, it is cleansed from

every stain. Don't worry, but wait."



The fourth year the Rebbe's words were established: Reb Selig Tachshit

had a daughter born to him, and Reb Seinwill Bassis, Ezrielk.



Channehle, Ezrielk's bride, was tall, when they married, as a young

fir-tree, beautiful as the sun, clever as the day is bright, and white

as snow, with sky-blue, star-like eyes. Her hair was the color of ripe

corn--in a word, she was fair as Abigail and our Mother Rachel in one,

winning as Queen Esther, pious as Leah, and upright as our Grandmother

Sarah.



But although the bride was beautiful, she found no fault with her

bridegroom; on the contrary, she esteemed it a great honor to have him

for a husband. All the Kabtzonivke girls envied her, and every

Kabtzonivke woman who was "expecting" desired with all her heart that

she might have such a son as Ezrielk. The reason is quite plain: First,

what true Jewish maiden looks for beauty in her bridegroom? Secondly,

our Ezrielk was as full of excellencies as a pomegranate is of seeds.



His teachers had not broken his bones for nothing. The blows had been of

great and lasting good to him. Even before his wedding, Seinwill

Bassis's Ezrielk was deeply versed in the Law, and could solve the

hardest "questions," so that you might have made a Rabbi of him. He was,

moreover, a great scribe. His "in-honor-ofs," and his "blessed bes" were

known, not only in Kabtzonivke, but all over Kamenivke, and as for his

singing--!



When Ezrielk began to sing, poor people forgot their hunger, thirst, and

need, the sick, their aches and pains, the Kabtzonivke Jews in general,

their bitter exile.



He mostly sang unfamiliar tunes and whole "things."



"Where do you get them, Ezrielk?"



The little Ezrielk would open his eyes (he kept them shut while he

sang), his two big blue eyes, and answer wonderingly:



"Don't you hear how everything sings?"



After a little while, when Ezrielk had been singing so well and so

sweetly and so wonderfully that the Kabtzonivke Jews began to feel too

happy, people fell athinking, and they grew extremely uneasy and

disturbed in their minds:



"It's not all so simple as it looks, there is something behind it.

Suppose a not-good one had introduced himself into the child (which God

forbid!)? It would do no harm to take him to the Aleskev Rebbe, long

life to him."



As good luck would have it, the Hostre Rebbe came along just then to

Kabtzonivke, and, after all, Ezrielk belonged to him, he was born

through the merit of the Rebbe's miracle-working! So the Chassidim told

him the story. The Rebbe, long life to him, sent for him. Ezrielk came

and began to sing. The Rebbe listened a long, long time to his sweet

voice, which rang out like a hundred thousand crystal and gold bells

into every corner of the room.



"Do not be alarmed, he may and he must sing. He gets his tunes there

where he got his soul."



And Ezrielk sang cheerful tunes till he was ten years old, that is, till

he fell into the hands of the teacher Reb Yainkel Vittiss.



Now, the end and object of Reb Yainkel's teaching was not merely that

his pupils should know a lot and know it well. Of course, we know that

the Jew only enters this sinful world in order that he may more or less

perfect himself, and that it is therefore needful he should, and,

indeed, he must, sit day and night over the Torah and the

Commentaries. Yainkel Vittiss's course of instruction began and ended

with trying to imbue his pupils with a downright, genuine,

Jewish-Chassidic enthusiasm.



The first day Ezrielk entered his Cheder, Reb Yainkel lifted his long,

thick lashes, and began, while he gazed fixedly at him, to shake his

head, saying to himself: "No, no, he won't do like that. There is

nothing wrong with the vessel, a goodly vessel, only the wine is still

very sharp, and the ferment is too strong. He is too cocky, too lively

for me. A wonder, too, for he's been in good hands (tell me, weren't you

under both Moisheh-Yusis?), and it's a pity, when you come to think,

that such a goodly vessel should be wasted. Yes, he wants treating in

quite another way."



And Yainkel Vittiss set himself seriously to the task of shaping and

working up Ezrielk.



Reb Yainkel was not in the least concerned when he beat a pupil and the

latter cried and screamed at the top of his voice. He knew what he was

about, and was convinced that, when one beats and it hurts, even a

Jewish child (which must needs get used to blows) may cry and scream,

and the more the better; it showed that his method of instruction was

taking effect. And when he was thrashing Ezrielk, and the boy cried and

yelled, Reb Yainkel would tell him: "That's right, that's the way! Cry,

scream--louder still! That's the way to get a truly contrite Jewish

heart! You sing too merrily for me--a true Jew should weep even while he

sings."



When Ezrielk came to be twelve years old, his teacher declared that he

might begin to recite the prayers in Shool before the congregation, as

he now had within him that which beseems a good Chassidic Jew.



So Ezrielk began to davven in the Kabtzonivke Old Shool, and a crowd of

people, not only from Kabtzonivke, but even from Kamenivke and

Ebionivke, used to fill and encircle the Shool to hear him.



Reb Yainkel was not mistaken, he knew what he was saying. Ezrielk was

indeed fit to davven: life and the joy of life had vanished from his

singing, and the terrorful weeping, the fearful wailing of a nation's

two thousand years of misfortune, might be heard and felt in his voice.



Ezrielk was very weakly, and too young to lead the service often, but

what a stir he caused when he lifted up his voice in the Shool!



Kabtzonivke, Kamenivke, and Ebionivke will never forget the first

U-mipne Chatoenu led by the twelve-year-old Ezrielk, standing before the

precentor's desk in a long, wide prayer-scarf.



The men, women, and children who were listening inside and outside the

Old Shool felt a shudder go through them, their hair stood on end, and

their hearts wept and fluttered in their breasts.



Ezrielk's voice wept and implored, "on account of our sins."



* * * * *



At the time when Ezrielk was distinguishing himself on this fashion with

his chanting, the Jewish doctor from Kamenivke happened to be in the

place. He saw the crowd round the Old Shool, and he went in. As you may

suppose, he was much longer in coming out. He was simply riveted to the

spot, and it is said that he rubbed his eyes more than once while he

listened and looked. On coming away, he told them to bring Ezrielk to

see him on the following day, saying that he wished to see him, and

would take no fee.



Next day Ezrielk came with his mother to the doctor's house.



"A blow has struck me! A thunder has killed me! Reb Yainkel, do you know

what the doctor said?"



"You silly woman, don't scream so! He cannot have said anything bad

about Ezrielk. What is the matter? Did he hear him intone the Gemoreh,

or perhaps sing? Don't cry and lament like that!"



"Reb Yainkel, what are you talking about? The doctor said that my

Ezrielk is in danger, that he's ill, that he hasn't a sound organ--his

heart, his lungs, are all sick. Every little bone in him is broken. He

mustn't sing or study--the bath will be his death--he must have a long

cure--he must be sent away for air. God (he said to me) has given you a

precious gift, such as Heaven and earth might envy. Will you go and bury

it with your own hands?"



"And you were frightened and believed him? Nonsense! I've had Ezrielk in

my Cheder two years. Do I want him to come and tell me what goes on

there? If he were a really good doctor, and had one drop of Jewish

blood left in his veins, wouldn't he know that every true Jew has a sick

heart, a bad lung, broken bones, and deformed limbs, and is well and

strong in spite of it, because the holy Torah is the best medicine for

all sicknesses? Ha, ha, ha! And he wants Ezrielk to give up learning

and the bath? Do you know what? Go home and send Ezrielk to Cheder at

once!"



The Kamenivke doctor made one or two more attempts at alarming Ezrielk's

parents; he sent his assistant to them more than once, but it was no

use, for after what Reb Yainkel had said, nobody would hear of any

doctoring.



So Ezrielk continued to study the Talmud and occasionally to lead the

service in Shool, like the Chassidic child he was, had a dip nearly

every morning in the bath-house, and at thirteen, good luck to him, he

was married.



The Hostre Rebbe himself honored the wedding with his presence. The

Rebbe, long life to him, was fond of Ezrielk, almost as though he had

been his own child. The whole time the saint stayed in Kabtzonivke,

Kamenivke, and Ebionivke, Ezrielk had to be near him.



When they told the Rebbe the story of the doctor, he remarked, "Ett!

what do they know?"



And Ezrielk continued to recite the prayers after his marriage, and to

sing as before, and was the delight of all who heard him.



Agreeably to the marriage contract, Ezrielk and his Channehle had a

double right to board with their parents "forever"; when they were born

and the written engagements were filled in, each was an only child, and

both Reb Seinwill and Reb Selig undertook to board them "forever." True,

when the parents wedded their "one and only children," they had both of

them a houseful of little ones and no Parnosseh (they really hadn't!),

but they did not go back upon their word with regard to the "board

forever."



Of course, it is understood that the two "everlasting boards" lasted

nearly one whole year, and Ezrielk and his wife might well give thanks

for not having died of hunger in the course of it, such a bad, bitter

year as it was for their poor parents. It was the year of the great

flood, when both Reb Seinwill Bassis and Reb Selig Tachshit had their

houses ruined.



Ezrielk, Channehle, and their little son had to go and shift for

themselves. But the other inhabitants of Kabtzonivke, regardless of

this, now began to envy them in earnest: what other couple of their age,

with a child and without a farthing, could so easily make a livelihood

as they?



Hardly had it come to the ears of the three towns that Ezrielk was

seeking a Parnosseh when they were all astir. All the Shools called

meetings, and sought for means and money whereby they might entice the

wonderful cantor and secure him for themselves. There was great

excitement in the Shools. Fancy finding in a little, thin Jewish lad all

the rare and precious qualities that go to make a great cantor! The

trustees of all the Shools ran about day and night, and a fierce war

broke out among them.



The war raged five times twenty-four hours, till the Great Shool in

Kamenivke carried the day. Not one of the others could have dreamed of

offering him such a salary--three hundred rubles and everything found!



"God is my witness"--thus Ezrielk opened his heart, as he sat afterwards

with the company of Hostre Chassidim over a little glass of

brandy--"that I find it very hard to leave our Old Shool, where my

grandfather and great-grandfather used to pray. Believe me, brothers, I

would not do it, only they give me one hundred and fifty rubles

earnest-money, and I want to pass it on to my father and father-in-law,

so that they may rebuild their houses. To your health, brothers! Drink

to my remaining an honest Jew, and wish that my head may not be turned

by the honor done to me!"



And Ezrielk began to davven and to sing (again without a choir) in the

Great Shool, in the large town of Kamenivke. There he intoned the

prayers as he had never done before, and showed who Ezrielk was! The Old

Shool in Kabtzonivke had been like a little box for his voice.



In those days Ezrielk and his household lived in happiness and plenty,

and he and Channehle enjoyed the respect and consideration of all men.

When Ezrielk led the service, the Shool was filled to overflowing, and

not only with Jews, even the richest Gentiles (I beg to distinguish!)

came to hear him, and wondered how such a small and weakly creature as

Ezrielk, with his thin chest and throat, could bring out such wonderful

tunes and whole compositions of his own! Money fell upon the lucky

couple, through circumcisions, weddings, and so on, like snow. Only one

thing began, little by little, to disturb their happiness: Ezrielk took

to coughing, and then to spitting blood.



He used to complain that he often felt a kind of pain in his throat and

chest, but they did not consult a doctor.



"What, a doctor?" fumed Reb Yainkel. "Nonsense! It hurts, does it?

Where's the wonder? A carpenter, a smith, a tailor, a shoemaker works

with his hands, and his hands hurt. Cantors and teachers and

match-makers work with their throat and chest, and these hurt, they

are bound to do so. It is simply hemorrhoids."



So Ezrielk went on intoning and chanting, and the Kamenivke Jews licked

their fingers, and nearly jumped out of their skin for joy when they

heard him.



Two years passed in this way, and then came a change.



It was early in the morning of the Fast of the Destruction of the

Temple, all the windows of the Great Shool were open, and all the

tables, benches, and desks had been carried out from the men's hall and

the women's hall the evening before. Men and women sat on the floor, so

closely packed a pin could not have fallen to the floor between them.

The whole street in which was the Great Shool was chuck full with a

terrible crowd of men, women, and children, although it just happened to

be cold, wet weather. The fact is, Ezrielk's Lamentations had long been

famous throughout the Jewish world in those parts, and whoever had ears,

a Jewish heart, and sound feet, came that day to hear him. The sad

epidemic disease that (not of our days be it spoken!) swallows men up,

was devastating Kamenivke and its surroundings that year, and everyone

sought a place and hour wherein to weep out his opprest and bitter

heart.



Ezrielk also sat on the floor reciting Lamentations, but the man who sat

there was not the same Ezrielk, and the voice heard was not his.

Ezrielk, with his sugar-sweet, honeyed voice, had suddenly been

transformed into a strange being, with a voice that struck terror into

his hearers; the whole people saw, heard, and felt, how a strange

creature was flying about among them with a fiery sword in his hand. He

slashes, hews, and hacks at their hearts, and with a terrible voice he

cries out and asks: "Sinners! Where is your holy land that flowed with

milk and honey? Slaves! Where is your Temple? Accursed slaves! You sold

your freedom for money and calumny, for honors and worldly greatness!"



The people trembled and shook and were all but entirely dissolved in

tears. "Upon Zion and her cities!" sang out once more Ezrielk's

melancholy voice, and suddenly something snapped in his throat, just as

when the strings of a good fiddle snap when the music is at its best.

Ezrielk coughed, and was silent. A stream of blood poured from his

throat, and he grew white as the wall.



The doctor declared that Ezrielk had lost his voice forever, and would

remain hoarse for the rest of his life.



"Nonsense!" persisted Reb Yainkel. "His voice is breaking--it's nothing

more!"



"God will help!" was the comment of the Hostre saint. A whole year went

by, and Ezrielk's voice neither broke nor returned to him. The Hostre

Chassidim assembled in the house of Elkoneh the butcher to consider and

take counsel as to what Ezrielk should take to in order to earn a

livelihood for wife and children. They thought it over a long, long

time, talked and gave their several opinions, till they hit upon this:

Ezrielk had still one hundred and fifty rubles in store--let him spend

one hundred rubles on a house in Kabtzonivke, and begin to traffic with

the remainder.



Thus Ezrielk became a trader. He began driving to fairs, and traded in

anything and everything capable of being bought or sold.



Six months were not over before Ezrielk was out of pocket. He mortgaged

his property, and with the money thus obtained he opened a grocery shop

for Channehle. He himself (nothing satisfies a Jew!) started to drive

about in the neighborhood, to collect the contributions subscribed for

the maintenance of the Hostre Rebbe, long life to him!



Ezrielk was five months on the road, and when, torn, worn, and

penniless, he returned home, he found Channehle brought to bed of her

fourth child, and the shop bare of ware and equally without a groschen.

But Ezrielk was now something of a trader, and is there any strait in

which a Jewish trader has not found himself? Ezrielk had soon disposed

of the whole of his property, paid his debts, rented a larger lodging,

and started trading in several new and more ambitious lines: he pickled

gherkins, cabbages, and pumpkins, made beet soup, both red and white,

and offered them for sale, and so on. It was Channehle again who had to

carry on most of the business, but, then, Ezrielk did not sit with his

hands in his pockets. Toward Passover he had Shmooreh Matzes; he baked

and sold them to the richest householders in Kamenivke, and before the

Solemn Days he, as an expert, tried and recommended cantors and

prayer-leaders for the Kamenivke Shools. When it came to Tabernacles,

he trafficked in citrons and "palms."



For three years Ezrielk and his Channehle struggled at their trades,

working themselves nearly to death (of Zion's enemies be it spoken!),

till, with the help of Heaven, they came to be twenty years old.



By this time Ezrielk and Channehle were the parents of four living and

two dead children. Channehle, the once so lovely Channehle, looked like

a beaten Hoshanah, and Ezrielk--you remember the picture drawn at the

time of his wedding?--well, then try to imagine what he was like now,

after those seven years we have described for you! It's true that he was

not spitting blood any more, either because Reb Yainkel had been right,

when he said that would pass away, or because there was not a drop of

blood in the whole of his body.



So that was all right--only, how were they to live? Even Reb Yainkel and

all the Hostre Chassidim together could not tell him!



The singing had raised him and lifted him off his feet, and let him

fall. And do you know why it was and how it was that everything Ezrielk

took to turned out badly? It was because the singing was always there,

in his head and his heart. He prayed and studied, singing. He bought and

sold, singing. He sang day and night. No one heard him, because he was

hoarse, but he sang without ceasing. Was it likely he would be a

successful trader, when he was always listening to what Heaven and earth

and everything around him were singing, too? He only wished he could

have been a slaughterer or a Rav (he was apt enough at study), only,

first, Rabbonim and slaughterers don't die every day, and, second, they

usually leave heirs to take their places; third, even supposing there

were no such heirs, one has to pay "privilege-money," and where is it to

come from? No, there was nothing to be done. Only God could and must

have pity on him and his wife and children, and help them somehow.



Ezrielk struggled and fought his need hard enough those days. One good

thing for him was this--his being a Hostre Chossid; the Hostre

Chassidim, although they have been famed from everlasting as the direst

poor among the Jews, yet they divide their last mouthful with their

unfortunate brethren. But what can the gifts of mortal men, and of such

poor ones into the bargain, do in a case like Ezrielk's? And God alone

knows what bitter end would have been his, if Reb Shmuel Baer, the

Kabtzonivke scribe, had not just then (blessed be the righteous Judge!)

met with a sudden death. Our Ezrielk was not long in feeling that he,

and only he, should, and, indeed, must, step into Reb Shmuel's shoes.

Ezrielk had been an expert at the scribe's work for years and years.

Why, his father's house and the scribe's had been nearly under one roof,

and whenever Ezrielk, as a child, was let out of Cheder, he would go and

sit any length of time in Reb Shmuel's room (something in the occupation

attracted him) and watch him write. And the little Ezrielk had more than

once tried to make a piece of parchment out of a scrap of skin; and what

Jewish boy cannot prepare the veins that are used to sew the

phylacteries and the scrolls of the Law? Nor was the scribe's ink a

secret to Ezrielk.



So Ezrielk became scribe in Kabtzonivke.



Of course, he did not make a fortune. Reb Shmuel Baer, who had been a

scribe all his days, died a very poor man, and left a roomful of hungry,

half-naked children behind him, but then--what Jew, I ask you (or has

Messiah come?), ever expected to find a Parnosseh with enough, really

enough, to eat?