"And how can you know this?" asked Abraham, evidently shocked by his father's words.
"Hersh's wife, the great-grandmother first recognised this soul, and then Rabbi Isaak recognised it."
Saul sighed deeply, and repeated:
"I will command him to sit in the Bet-ha-Midrash and read the Talmud.
He shall neither eat nor sleep in my house for a whole week, and the Shamos (care-taker and messenger of the synagogue) shall announce his shame and punishment through the town!"
CHAPTER VIII
The Bet-ha-Midrash was a large, well-lighted building standing on the courtyard close to the synagogue. It served for various purposes: people congregated there for the less solemn prayers or lectures; the learned used it for their discussions upon knotty points of the Talmud, here also were kept the books of the different brotherhoods or societies, of which there are many in every Jewish community; and lastly, it served as a place of penance in exceptional cases, when any of the young men had transgressed the religious or moral laws.
The punishment was not so much a physical discomfort as a moral one, and left an indelible stain upon the delinquent's character.
Opposite the Ha-Midrash rose a smaller but equally well-kept building. It was the Bet-ha-Kahol or Kahol room, where the functionaries of the town council and the elders held sittings. A little further was a more modest building, the Hek-Dosh or poor house, where all those who were unable to work and were hungry had the right to apply for food and shelter.
Opposite the house of prayer was the heder or school, where the learned and much-respected Reb Moshe ruled. The court with all its buildings, from the synagogue and hospital to the tiny dwelling of the Rabbi was like the capital of a small realm: everything was there which could promote the well-being of the public.
All these buildings had been raised at one time, to embody a great idea, either to serve God or mankind. In what manner these lofty ideas had been perverted and served other purposes than those first conceived is another thing altogether--for this we must go to history.
Eight days bad elapsed since the memorable evening when the young men bad conversed and sung together on the meadow. On the ninth day, after sunset, Meir left the Ha-Midrash and stood in its high portico.
Obedient to the order of the head of the family, he had spent the week in utter solitude, reading the Talmud which he knew so well already, and for which, in spite of all the doubts which troubled his mind, he never lost the reverence implanted into him from his childhood. The penance had not brought him any physical discomforts; his meals were carried to him from home, where the charitable women had tried to make them even more palatable than usual. Nevertheless, he was much changed. He looked paler, thinner, yet withal more manly.
Neither in his expression nor bearing was there any trace of his former almost childish timidity. Perhaps his intelligence had rebelled against the injustice of the punishment; it may be the solitude and the study of the many volumes in the Ha-Midrash had called forth new ideas and confirmed him in the old ones. The nervous contraction of his brow and his feverish burning eyes betrayed hard mental work, all the harder because without help or guide. The penance inflicted upon him bad missed its aim. Instead of quieting and soothing the restless spirit, it made him bolder and more rebellious.
When Meir descended the steps into the court another feeling took hold of him--that of shame. At the sight of several people crossing the courtyard he dropped his eyes and blushed. They were elders of the Kahol, who seeing Meir, pointed at him and laughed. One of them, Jankiel Kamionker, did not laugh, and seemingly had not noticed the young man. He was walking apart from his companions, and his face looked troubled and preoccupied. Instead of entering into the Kahol building with the other men, he almost stealthily approached the almshouse; he only passed it, but it was sufficient to exchange a few whispered words with a man whose shaggy hair and swollen face appeared at the open window. Meir knew the man, and silently wondered what business the rich and pious Jankiel could have with a thief and vagrant like the carrier Johel. But he did not think much about it, and directed his steps, not towards home, but to a small passage near the school, which would bring him out into the fields; he was longing for space and air. He stood still for a few minutes. An odd murmuring noise, rising and falling, mixed with an occasional wailing reached his ear; it was dominated by a thick, hoarse voice alternately reading, talking, and scolding.
A peculiar smile crossed Meir's face; it expressed anger and compassion. He was standing near the school where the melamed Reb Moshe infused knowledge into the juvenile minds. Something seemed to attract him there; he leaned his elbows on the window-sill and looked in.
It was a narrow, low and evil-smelling room. Between the blackened ceiling, the wall and the floor full of dirt and litter, which filled the air with a damp and heavy vapour, there seethed and rocked a compact, gray mass which produced the murmuring noise. By and by, as if out of a dense fog, childish faces seemed to detach themselves.
The faces were various, some dark and coarse, as if swollen with disease; others pale, delicate and finely cut. As various as the faces were their expressions; there were those who, with mouth wide open and idiotic eyes stared into vacancy; others twitched and fretted with ill concealed impatience but most of them, though suffering, looked patient and submissive. Their outward appearance showed an equal variety, from the decent coat of the rich man's child, in gentle graduations to the sleeveless jackets and tatters of the very poorest classes.
Some fifty children were crowded into that room which barely accommodated half that number. They sat almost one upon the other, on hard dirty benches, closely packed together. This was not the only school in Szybow but none of the others was so eagerly sought after by parents as the one conducted by Reb Moshe, known by his piety and cabalistic knowledge, the favourite of the Rabbi. It must not be thought that Reb Moshe initiated his scholars into the first steps of learning; this would have been sheer waste of his capabilities--which aimed at something higher.
The children he received were from ten to twelve years old, who had already been taught in other schools to read Hebrew and the Chumesh or Five Books of Moses, with all their explanations and commentaries; after that they came under the tuition of Reb Moshe and were introduced to the Talmud, with all its chapters, paragraphs, debatable points, and commentaries above commentaries.
All this would have been more than sufficient to enlarge or confuse the minds of those pale, miserable children; but Reb Moshe in his zeal did not content himself with exercising the memory of his scholars; he wanted also to develop their imagination, and sometimes treated them to extracts from the metaphysical Kabala. The reading or expounding of parts of those books was looked upon by him as a kind of rest or recreation, which sometimes it proved to be when the melamed was too deeply absorbed to watch his audience.
The melamed was thus occupied when Meir looked through the window. He was bending over a heavy book with an expression of ecstatic rapture, and rocking his body to and fro with the chair upon which he sat. The scholars with their books before them were also rocking themselves and repeating their lessons in a loud murmur, sometimes smiting the edge of the bench with their fists by way of emphasis, or burying their hands in their already tangled manes.
Suddenly the melamed left off rocking himself, took the heavy book in both hands and struck it with all his might on the table. It was the signal for silence. The scholars left off rocking and raised their eyes in sudden alarm, thinking the time bad come to give out their lessons.
But the melamed was not thinking of the lessons; his spirit had been carried away into other spheres altogether, but he was still dimly conscious of his duties as a teacher, and wanted his scholars to share in his spiritual rapture. He raised his finger and began to read a paragraph from the Scheier Koma.
"The great prince of knowledge thus describes the greatness of Jehovah: The height of Jehovah is one hundred six and thirty times a thousand leagues. From the right band, of Jehovah to His left the distance is seventy-seven times ten thousand leagues. His skull is three times ten thousand leagues in length and breadth. The crown of His head is sixty times ten thousand leagues long. The soles of the feet of the King of Kings are thirty thousand leagues long. From the heel to the knee, nineteen times ten thousand leagues; from the knees to the hip, twelve times ten thousand and four leagues; from the loins to the neck, twenty-four times ten thousand leagues. Such is the greatness of the King of Kings, the Lord of the world."
After this last exclamation, Heb Moshe, his hands raised in the air, remained motionless. Motionless likewise were the children. All, without exception, the timid and the mischievous, the idiotic and the sensible ones, stared open-mouthed at the melamed The description of Jehovah's greatness seemed to have paralysed their minds.
After a short pause the melamed woke up to the every-day business, and called out:
"Go on."
The children again resumed their murmur and rocking. It would have been impossible from their confused voices to get an inkling of what they were learning but Meir, who had passed through the same course and possessed an excellent memory, understood that they were at the eighth chapter of Berachot (about the blessing).
The children, with great efforts that brought the perspiration to their faces, read in a singing murmur:
"Mischna, 1. The disputed questions between the schools of Shamai and Hillel. The school of Shamai says: 'First, bless the day and then the wine.' The school of Hillel says: 'First bless the wine and then the day' (the Sabbath)."
"Mischna 2. The school of Shamai says: 'To wash the hands, then fill the cup.' Hillel says: 'Fill the cup, then wash the hands.'"
"Mischna 3. The school of Shamai says: 'After washing, put the napkin on the table.' The school of Hillel says: 'Put it on a cushion.'"
"Mischna 4. The school of Shamai says 'Sweep the room, then wash your hands.' The school of Hillel says: 'Wash your hands, then sweep the room.'"
A double knock with the heavy book upon the rickety table reduced the scholars to silence once more.
The melamed's round and gleaming eyes wandered around the room as if in search of a victim. He pointed to one of the hindmost benches, and called out:
"Lejbele!"
A pale and slender child rose at the summons and fixed a pair of large, frightened eyes upon the teacher.
"Come here."
There was a great rustle among the boys, for it was no easy matter to pass across that dense mass of children. Lejbele at last managed to squeeze himself through, and holding his book with both hands, stood within the small space between the teacher's table and the front bench. He did not look at the melamed, but kept his eyes fixed upon the book.
"Why do you look down like a brigand? Look at me!" and the melamed struck him under the chin.
The child looked at him, his eyes slowly filling with tears.
"Well! what does the school of Shamai say, and what the school of Hillel?" began the melamed.
There was a long silence. The children of the first bench nudged his elbow, and whispered:
"Speak out!"
"The school of Shamai," began Lejbele, in a trembling voice, says, "bless the wine. . . ."
"The day--the day, and then the wine," whispered a few compassionate voices from the first bench. But, at the same time, the melamed's hand came into contact with the ear of one of the offenders, and his yell reduced the others to silence.
Reb Moshe turned again to the child.
"Mischna the first. What says the school of Shamai?"
The answer came in a still more trembling, almost inaudible, voice:
"The school of Shamai says: 'Bless the wine'. The melamed's fist came down upon the young Talmudist's shoulder, out of whose hands the heavy book slipped and fell upon the floor.