Library of Che Theological Seminary 
 
 PRINCETON : NEW JERSEY 
 
 <>) 
 
 PRESENTED BY 
 John Stuart Conning, D.D. 
 PAP ote. nto he LoesG 
 
 Asch, Sholem, 1880-1957. 
 Kiddush Ha-Shem 
 

 
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 By 
 
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 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 AN EPIC OF 1648 
 
 BY 
 
 SHOLOM ASH 
 
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 TRANSLATED BY 
 
 RUFUS LEARSI 
 
 
 
 PHILADELPHIA 
 THE JEWISH PUBLICATION SOCIETY OF AMERICA 
 1926 
 
Copyright 1926 by 
 THE JEWISH PUBLICATION SOCIETY OF AMERICA 
 
 Printed at 
 THE JEWISH PUBLICATION SOCIETY PRESS 
 
To DR. J. L. MAGNES 
 
 in token of esteem and affection 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 In 2022 with funding from 
 Princeton Theological Seminary Library 
 
 httos://archive.org/details/kiddushhashemepi00asch 
 
“We are ashamed to write down all that the Cossacks and 
 Tatars did unto the Jews, lest we disgrace the species man who 
 is created in the image of God.” 
 
 ——From an old Chronicle. 
 
eo Se + 
 a Tua 
 
 ans 
 
 Peary! 
 ey 
 
 
 
PART I 
 
bik tS 
 Pee pa 
 hues 
 
 1 
 
 + oy 
 
 
 
CHAPTER ONE 
 FAR OUT UPON THE STEPPES 
 
 Not a thing could be seen. Everything was en- 
 veloped in a cloud of smoke which poured right into 
 the room from the oven, where the fire had just been 
 started. Out of the smoke could be heard the small 
 shrill voice of a little boy straining to keep up with 
 the impatient voice of a man. They were chanting 
 a verse from the Pentateuch, the original Hebrew 
 and the Yiddish translation following each other in 
 alternate phrases. 
 
 ‘““Va-yomer—and He spoke, EHlohim—God, el- 
 Moshe—to Moses, lemor—saying.”’ 
 
 When the wreaths of smoke grew thinner, there 
 appeared, as through a mist, first the great oven 
 taking up half the room, and on top of it something 
 large, uncouth and shadowy. Soon the thing began 
 to stir, and it seemed as though a portion of the oven 
 was breaking away from the rest. Gradually it 
 assumed the shape of a human being with a huge 
 abdomen and a long red beard. And a massive 
 table appeared through the smoke with numerous 
 barrels and brandy kegs on it, some shelves covered 
 with dry goods, strings of candles hanging from one 
 of them. At the table sat a Jew with curly ear-locks 
 beneath a feather-covered cap. He was wrapped 
 in a sort of woman’s quilt-gown kept in place by a 
 
2 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 scarf and shawl, and was swaying over a large book. 
 On one of the brandy kegs sat a little boy dressed 
 all in white and wrapped in a small prayer-shawl. 
 He was swaying over the Pentateuch in unison with 
 his father, and repeated in his shrill little voice: 
 
 ‘“‘ Va-yomer—and He spoke, Hlohtim—God, el 
 Moshe—to Moses, lemor—saying.”’ 
 
 But father and son were not permitted to sit long 
 over the Holy Book. From the oven now began 
 to move forward that large, dim, uncouth mass. 
 And only now, when it was quite clear of the oven, 
 was it possible to discern its outlines. It was a 
 tall, stout Greek-Orthodox priest, a massive, stag- 
 gering figure. His hands were stuck into his broad, 
 red girdle; with a movement of his forehead and 
 without using his hands, he jerked his tall fur hat 
 to the crown of his head. Beads of perspiration 
 broke out on his low forehead, rolled down his hairy 
 nose and disappeared in the endless mazes of his 
 long beard. For a minute he looked blankly at 
 the Jew. Then he said: 
 
 ““Mendelu, Mendelu, have pity on a Christian 
 soul. Only one more measure, just to drive away 
 the accursed Satan, the evil spirit which torments 
 me to get drunk. I'll put him to sleep and drive 
 him out. Have pity, Mendelu!’’ 
 
 “Ay, ay, Little Father, you will not give that wicked 
 Devil his fill, you will not drive him away. The 
 more you'll pour into his unclean throat, the more 
 he’ll torment you. Better not feed him, better 
 let him starve. When the accursed demon will 
 
FAR OUT UPON THE STEPPES 3 
 
 realize that he can expect nothing from you he will 
 leave you, he will enter into Stepan, into Hidrak, 
 but he will leave you.”’ 
 
 “Well said! Wisely spoken! You are a man of 
 sense, Mendel, I will obey you,” says the large priest, 
 and returns to his place on the wooden bench near 
 the oven and tries to sit still, supporting his massive 
 head in both his hands, and with his long red beard 
 wiping the beads of perspiration from his face. 
 
 ““Va-yomer—and he spake, Moshe—Moses, el b’naz 
 Yisroel—unto the children of Israel, lemor—saying”’, 
 the Jew resumed his work with the boy. 
 
 The priest seized on the word Moses and played 
 with it as he twisted his long red beard. 
 
 ‘Moses, Moshe, Mosé—we know him, we are 
 familiar with him. We’ve read about him in the 
 Holy Books. He saw God, spoke with God, ascended 
 Mount Sinai,—we know about him. A shepherd he 
 was, a good shepherd to his flock—not like you, 
 Stepan Kratkov,”’ he began to rail at himself, ‘‘not 
 like you, in whose fat belly a devil has lodged and 
 torments you. Oh, you thing accursed, you hound’s 
 son, you won’t be quiet, will you? I’ll beat you, 
 beat you out of me! Take this, now!’’ and the 
 tall priest began to strike with both hands and with 
 all his might at his huge stomach. 
 
 “Little Father, dear Little Father, what are you 
 doing? What ails you?” the frightened Jew ex- 
 claimed, and his ear-locks began to shake with fear. 
 
 ‘““He won’t be quiet, the hound’s son,”’ the priest 
 points to his stomach, ‘‘so I’m going to beat him out.”’ 
 
4 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 “Not too hard, gently, gently,’’ the Jew implored, 
 and resumed his occupation with the boy. 
 
 Soon, however, the priest again approached the 
 table and, with abashed mien, said to the Jew: 
 
 “T beat him but he will not calm down, the hound ’s 
 son. I'll tell you what, Mendel,—I’ll treat him like 
 a good Christian. He torments me and in return 
 I'll give him brandy. I'll treat him with Christian 
 love, that’s how I’ll fix him. He’ll get scared and 
 run away. For wherever Satan feels that Christ 
 is near he avoids that place. Save a soul, dear 
 friend, help carry out a Christian purpose. It’s 
 to expel Satan from a sinful belly. Help, Mendel, 
 dear!”’ 
 
 An appeal of that sort the Jew was both unable 
 and afraid todeny. Hesighed deeply over the honest 
 penny which he lost through the bargain between 
 Satan and Christian love, a bargain in which he was 
 dragged in against his will. He poured the “‘little 
 shepherd”’ a large measure of whiskey, and with even 
 greater energy resumed his swaying over the Penta- 
 teuch which lay open before him on the four-fringed 
 garment. And the Little Father took up the holy 
 work of expelling the Devil from his huge stomach 
 with the help of Christian love and Jewish whiskey. 
 
 This scene was enacted by the shepherd of the Greek 
 Orthodox flock, Father Stepan, and the Jewish inn- 
 keeper Mendel on a snowy winter afternoon in the 
 inn of Zlochov. Zlochov lay far out on the steppe 
 of Podolya, not far from the “green meadow,’’ 
 
FAR OUT UPON THE STEPPES 5 
 
 and belonged to the district squire of Chernin, 
 Konitz-Polski. Mendel was the only Jew who had 
 the courage to hold in lease the inn as well as the 
 Greek Orthodox Church so far out on the steppes 
 near the Zaporozhe Cossacks. Mendel even carried 
 on a trade with the Zaporozhes, and would often 
 go to the Setch on either side of the Dnieper, where 
 the Cossack freemen used to gather to take counsel 
 before waging war on the Turk or for the purpose 
 of choosing their Hetmans. Mendel used to take 
 to the Cossacks calfskin leather, which he obtained 
 from the Jewish tanners of Volhynia, sheepskin coats, 
 flaxen shawls, dyed peasants’ wool, fruit brandy and 
 Jewish honey cakes, which Mendel’s wife knew so 
 well how to bake and which the Cossacks found so 
 delicious. Sometimes he would come home from 
 the Setch with his beard half plucked or minus one 
 of his ear-locks, but always with his bag full of copper 
 coins, Polish pazms and guldens, pieces of Turkish 
 silver; or he would bring back in barter for his goods 
 Turkish guns and swords with carved ivory handles 
 and studded with precious Oriental stones, Tatar 
 carpets or Cossack cloaks of fox-skin. And Mendel 
 used to take the Cossack goods to the markets 
 of Chihirin and Lubno, where dwelt the Baron 
 Vishnewetzki, the lord of Russ, who was a friend of 
 the Jews and in whose city the Jews were permitted 
 to live and trade freely. 
 
 Mendel lived on good terms with his neighbors, the 
 Cossack braves. He kept a little store for them in 
 the inn and he found his income more than ample. 
 
6 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 But Mendel felt ill at ease, for he could not live with- 
 out Jews. And Jews refused to settle in Zlochov, 
 for Zlochov was still an unhallowed spot. It had no 
 synagogue and no Jewish cemetery. All his efforts 
 to secure permission from the nobleman to build 
 a synagogue were of no avail. Father Kozlowski of 
 the Jesuits, who had his seat at Chihirin with the 
 Mission for converting the Cossack peasants to 
 Catholicism, opposed with all his power the granting 
 of permission for a synagogue in Zlochov out of 
 fear lest the Jews turn the Cossacks away from the 
 Catholic faith. And in order to humiliate the Greek 
 Orthodox faith in the eyes of the Cossacks, he forced 
 the innkeeper to hold their church in lease, so that 
 they were compelled to apply to the Jew of the inn 
 for the key to their church. 
 
 Mendel made every effort to observe strictly his 
 Jewish faith in that lonely inn in the heart of the 
 steppes among the Cossacks. For the Holy Days 
 he used to go to Chihirin, where he put in “a stock 
 of Judaism”’ for the entire year. 
 
 His only son Shlomo, whom God had vouchsafed 
 to him after his wife, Yocheved, had been childless 
 for six years, and whom, by way of a protecting charm, 
 they still dressed in white, was now a grown boy, 
 six years old, but no Hebrew teacher would come out 
 to the inn. Whatever he knew Mendel taught him 
 himself. But a great deal Mendel himself did not 
 know, and sometimes a ritual question comes up, and 
 the holy books are sealed to him, and the home takes 
 on a certain coarseness. The wife acquires the cus- 
 
FAR OUT UPON THE STEPPES 7 
 
 toms of the Cossack women, and he himself does 
 not know what is permitted and what isnot. He has 
 long since been anxious to give up the inn and move 
 into some Jewish settlement, but it is hard to aban- 
 don one’s livelihood. And so, as far as he was able, | 
 he taught Shlomo himself, seated at the table of the 
 inn among the kegs of spirits and the drunkards, as 
 he was doing when he was interrupted by Father 
 Stepan and his Devil, and teaching his little boy all 
 he knew: ‘ Va-yomer—and He spake, Adonai—God, 
 el Moshe—to Moses, lemor—saying...”’ 
 
 It would seem, however, that Satan had really 
 been frightened by the Christian love which the 
 priest administered to him. And when the Little 
 Father Stepan was quite drunk, he began to talk 
 like a sober man. He suddenly began to beat his 
 breast with his fist and to rail at himself: 
 
 “You are a sinful man, Little Father Stepan. 
 God entrusted you with a flock of little lambs to feed, 
 put the shepherd’s crook into your hands: ‘take 
 them out to the pasture when they are hungry, 
 and give them to drink when they are thirsty’. 
 But you have not done it. You have not taken them 
 out to pasture when they were hungry, nor have 
 you given them to drink when they were thirsty. 
 Instead, you have sold your soul to the Jew for a 
 measure of spirits. He sits there and prays to his 
 God, while you, Little Father, are guzzling. It’s 
 clear, you, my little Jew, have done it. I know it. 
 You have made me drunk while you are praying to 
 God.” 
 
8 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 “Dear Little Father, what are you saying? What 
 nonsense are you prattling? Go to your church, 
 Little Father,—here, take the key to your church! 
 Pray to your own God, as much as you like,—am 
 I preventing you? On the contrary, a Jew likes to 
 see Christians pray, likes it very much. Here, take 
 the key and go to your church.” 
 
 ‘“ And the keys to the holy church they have turned 
 over to the Jew. They have insulted the church,— 
 insulted the faith, and you, little shepherd, you sit 
 and guzzle. Oh, they will come galloping, the little 
 brothers of the steppes, oh, they will come, those 
 fine lads, on their lightfooted horses, they will come 
 from across the Dnieper and they will avenge the 
 insult to God. They will free the people from the 
 Pans, the churches from the Jews, and they will 
 avenge the insult to God.”’ | 
 
 ‘Woe is me, what is it I hear? Shh! Hush!” 
 and the Jewran up from behind the table and covered 
 with his hand the mouth of the priest. ‘Shh! 
 Hush! The walls will hear it, the winds will carry 
 it to the Pan, they will flay you alive—Hush, hush!—”’ 
 and the Jew looked about him in fear, his ear-locks 
 trembling, lest someone should have heard the priest’s 
 words. “Hush! I’ll give you brandy—here! Take 
 it and drink! Ah! Father in Heaven, I’m at the 
 end of my strength! That he should have begun in 
 my inn! Why do you punish me so?—A second 
 measure for nothing! Ah, may it give him a disease! 
 Here, drink and be silent!”’ 
 
 Throwing the Jew into a scare with ‘‘the little 
 
FAR OUT UPON THE STEPPES 9 
 
 brothers of the steppe’? was the best method of 
 getting whiskey from him after the method of the 
 Devil and Christian love. When the priest had 
 gotten the brimming measure which the Jew, in his 
 great haste, had allowed to run over, he became 
 calm, seated himself again on the bench of the oven, 
 and, twisting with his hands his long, red beard, 
 he took a sip every now and then. And the Jew 
 returned to his place behind the table, but was unable 
 to go on with his teaching. He groaned again and 
 again. 
 
 ‘“‘Dear Father in Heaven, why do you punish me 
 so? Wherein have I sinned? If I refuse to hold 
 the church in lease, I catch it from the Polish Jesuit; 
 if I do hold the church in lease, this one scares me 
 with his little brothers. And a synagogue is not 
 allowed, and Jews are not to be found, and learning 
 I have none, and the son is growing up without Torah! 
 I’ll give up this inn! I’ll run away from Zlochov, 
 I’ll run wherever my legs will carry me! Without 
 a synagogue and without Jews—only drunken priests! 
 Ah! woe is me!” 
 
 “Don’t you run away, Mendelu,—don’t you for- 
 sake us, Mendelu,’’ rejoined the priest who, to all 
 appearances, had not paid any heed to the words 
 of the Jew. ‘You are like a good little father to 
 us; and as for a synagogue, we’ll give you one. The 
 little brothers will come from the steppe, they will 
 come on their lightfooted horses, will kill all the 
 Pans and give you a synagogue. [’ll intercede for 
 you.” 
 
10 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 “Help, help! He is beginning again with the 
 little brothers! Hush, be silent, hush!’’ And again 
 the Jew ran out from behind the table in great fear. 
 
 Who knows how the matter would have ended if 
 old Marusha, an old strong Cossack woman who was 
 in service at the Jew’s, had not come to his aid in 
 his hour of need. She came in from the next house, 
 which was fenced off from the inn where the Jew lived, 
 and took her stand in front of the priest with her 
 arms, thick, muscular, and naked in the cold winter 
 day, akimbo. ) 
 
 ‘“‘Tt’s necessary, Little Father, to beat you up a 
 little for your own good,”’ said the old woman, ‘‘other- 
 wise you'll not calm down. You have made the 
 Devil groggy and now some demon speaks out of 
 
 99 
 
 you. 
 
 ‘‘Help, mother dear, help! Do a Christian deed. 
 I have beaten him, but he pays no attention to me. 
 He is on too familiar terms with me, the Devil.’’ 
 
 “Wait, dear Little Father, wait, I’ll help you.” 
 And she took the slop-pail which stood near the door 
 of the inn and spilled the contents over the head of 
 the priest. — 
 
 “Ah! How good!’ the priest spluttered with de- 
 light. 
 
 ‘How now, Little Father, you feel better?’’ asked 
 Marusha. 
 
 “He needs to be beaten a little more, then he’ll 
 quiet down altogether.”’ 
 
FAR OUT UPON THE STEPPES 11 
 
 “Wait, Little Father, wait, I’ll help you.” And 
 old Marusha went up to the priest, and with her two 
 large, powerful fists she belabored his stomach. 
 
 ‘‘Easy now! not so hard! Gently, gently!’ the 
 Jew gesticulated from a distance. 
 
CHAPTER TWO 
 LosING COUNT OF THE Days 
 
 Twilight began to filter in. The snow beneath the 
 windows took on a reddish hue which soon became 
 purple. The wind of the steppe beat upon the walls 
 of the inn and behaved as though it would lift the 
 straw roof of the house if it were not admitted. The 
 inn became dark. The priest, after Marusha had 
 driven the demon out of him, fell asleep on the bench 
 in front of the oven. His snoring sounded like the 
 blasts of a shepherd’s horn, and confused all who 
 were in the room. 
 
 The innkeeper’s wife, Yocheved, entered from the 
 next room, which was separated by a thin partition 
 wall. She had a piece of burning kindling wood in 
 her hand which lighted up her young fresh face and 
 the head-dress and shawls which she wore. She 
 approached the oven and lighted a wick which was 
 floating in a large vessel filled with melted wax. 
 She lifted a large wooden bowl and began to pour 
 into it flour for kneading dough. 
 
 ‘What are you doing, Yocheved?’”’ Mendel asked. 
 
 “Kneading dough for the Sabbath bread. The 
 oven is already warm.”’ 
 
 ‘“‘Sabbath bread in the middle of the week?’’ 
 
 “Woe is me, it is Thursday today,’’ the woman 
 answered in a tone of surprise. 
 
LOSING COUNT OF THE DAYS 13 
 
 ““Yocheved, you are making a mistake; it is only 
 Wednesday. Have you lost the count again, 
 Yocheved?’’ the man cried. ‘‘ Yocheved, we are living 
 in a wilderness where there are no Jews, and you 
 lose count of the days.” 
 
 The woman stood with the burning stick of wood 
 in her hand in a guilty attitude, and she said implor- 
 ingly: 
 
 “You are taking my heart out, Mendel. Look 
 into the calendar. Why, it is Thursday today, 
 Mendel.”’ 
 
 Mendel groaned and approached the large card- 
 board which hung on the wall of the inn,—the cal- 
 endar which the Assembly of the Four Countries 
 had published in Lublin for the use of the innkeepers 
 in the outlying provinces. The calendar was under- 
 lined in different colors, and little wooden pegs were 
 stuck into it which served as different symbols 
 that Mendel had devised for himself. For a very 
 long time Mendel contemplated the calendar, then 
 he asked his wife: 
 
 ‘““Yocheved, what day was the day before yester- 
 day, Monday or Tuesday?”’ 
 
 ‘‘Woe is me, you don’t know what day it was day 
 before yesterday? Mendel, Mendel, Mendel, if you 
 don’t know, how am I to know, who am only a sin- 
 ful woman?”’ 
 
 Mendel again contemplated the calendar, while 
 Yocheved stood near in agony. Her husband’s 
 forgetting the day had the same effect on her as if 
 
14 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 she had lost her way in the steppe all alone and at 
 night. 
 
 ‘Mendel, what are we going to do? Mendel, 
 is it not a dreadful thing that a Jew should not know 
 what day of the week it is?” 
 
 “Why do you cry? Why do you shout? Call 
 in Marusha.”’ 
 
 Marusha, the Cossack woman who served in the 
 house of Mendel, had become so expert in Jewish 
 customs and religious duties in the course of the 
 years that she had spent with Yocheved, that one 
 of her functions was to look after the religious ob- 
 servances of the home. With Shlomele, Mendel’s 
 only son whom she had nursed and raised, she said 
 the morning and evening prayers regularly. She 
 reminded him to say the benedictions over his food 
 at every meal. Marusha was also required to 
 remember the day of the week so that they might 
 know when to prepare for the Sabbath. 
 
 Hearing the loud cries of her master and mistress, 
 Marusha entered and, upon learning that they were 
 confused in the calendar and did not know when to 
 prepare for the Sabbath, she was so frightened that 
 although she knew that the day before yesterday 
 was Monday, she became bewildered and was afraid 
 to say anything decisive in so important a matter. 
 
 ‘“How should I know, mistress, I am only a Chris- 
 tian soul. It was either Monday or it was Tuesday. 
 Oh Lord, have mercy.”’ 
 
 Husband and wife looked at each other in alarm. 
 All of them, the man, the woman and the servant, 
 
LOSING COUNT OF THE DAYS 15 
 
 began to shout at once, and the boy, hearing the 
 grown-ups shout, began tocry. The noise awakened 
 the sleeping priest. He yawned several times and 
 looked around in surprise. 
 
 “Dear Little Father, save us,’’ Mendel implored 
 him. ‘“‘Do you not know what day we had day 
 before yesterday? Was it Monday or Tuesday?” 
 
 ““Monday—Tuesday—day before yesterday—. 
 Wait, let me see,”’ said the priest, rolling up his 
 sleeves and beginning to reckon on his fingers. ‘‘Saint 
 George’s day is always on a Thursday, the first day 
 after the second week after Saint Paul’s day when 
 it begins to snow. That’s the time we say a special 
 prayer in church for the holy Saint Anthony.”’ 
 
 ‘Woe is me, the priest has become your teacher. 
 Mendel, Mendel!’ and the woman began to weep. 
 
 Mendel turned again to the calendar, but his search 
 was in vain. In order to know if it was Wednesday 
 or Thursday he would have to know what the day 
 before yesterday was, whether Monday or Tuesday, 
 and there was not a living soul in Zlochov who could 
 tell him that. 
 
 For a minute the entire household was reduced 
 to fear and terror. They were afraid to stir as if 
 waiting for the world to come to an end. But sud- 
 denly the door opened and, driven by the clattering 
 wind, there stumbled into the inn a short, snow- 
 covered creature, wrapped in an overcoat, shawls, 
 scarves and all sorts of clothes. No human face 
 was visible. So entirely covered with snow was the 
 figure that it looked like a snowball. But by the 
 
16 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 voice which made itself heard, it was to be perceived 
 that it was a human creature. 
 
 ‘‘Blessed be God, does a Jew live here?’ said 
 the voice. 
 
 “A Jew, a Jew,’’ answered the man, the woman, 
 the servant, and even the priest, with immense joy, 
 gathering around the short, snow-covered individual. 
 The little snow-man began to peel off the snow-covered 
 scarves, shawls and coats one after another and, after 
 he had thrown aside his various garments, there 
 remained standing a slight, short Jew with snow-white 
 hair, a short white beard, a pair of brilliant child- 
 like eyes and a smile which was wise and child-like 
 at the same time. He held out a hand of greeting 
 to Mendel. 
 
 ‘Blessed be God, I have stumbled upon a Jew. 
 Sholom aletchem!” | 
 
 ‘“Come close to the oven, friend, it is lighted,’’ said 
 the innkeeper’s wife. 
 
 The little Jew approached the oven and embraced 
 it as one embraces a good old friend and said: 
 
 “To think a Jew would go to live so far out in the 
 steppe! Ah, Lord of the Universe, what places 
 your Jews seek you out in! Way out in the steppe 
 they seek you out, Father in Heaven.”’ 
 
 “Whence have you roamed to this distant place?’ 
 Mendel at last thought of asking. 
 
 ‘From nowhere in particular. I am, you see, a | 
 jolly little tailor, well known, thank God, in these 
 parts among the renters. I sew sheepskin coats 
 and garments for the little ones, may they wear 
 
LOSING COUNT OF THE DAYS 17 
 
 them in good health, trousseaus for weddings and 
 such other things that Jews need. When I heard 
 in Karsoon that Zlochov already has a Jewish inn- 
 keeper, I thought to myself, I will take a trip down 
 and find out how a Jew is getting along in such a 
 far away place. And at the same time I might come 
 upon a garment to sew over, or some children to 
 teach, for, you see, I’m a teacher also, with the help 
 of God.” 
 
 “As if God Himself had brought you at just the 
 right moment. We have forgotten what day of 
 the week it is. Living among goyim all alone in 
 the wilderness, we have lost count of the day’’, says 
 the woman. ‘‘Do you not know, friend, what day 
 of the week we Jews have today?”’ 
 
 “Forgotten the day? My, my! What need has 
 a Jew for knowing the day of the week in a wilderness? 
 On account of the Sabbath, I suppose, to know when 
 to knead the dough for the white Sabbath bread. 
 See, dear Father, how faithful Your Jews are to You 
 even in the wild steppe. Among goyim they forget 
 You not, they observe Your Sabbath, and are deeply 
 grieved when they forget the day of the week. I 
 will let you know it, and soon. Let me only look 
 at my knots.’’ And the little Jew takes up the cord 
 of his pack. “It happens often that I too forget 
 the day, so I make these signs. Every day I make 
 a knot in the cord of my pack. My knots tell me 
 that today we have,—let me see—yes! the fourth 
 day of the week,—Wednesday, for all Jews! And 
 here let me give you some good advice. Lay up 
 
18 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 pieces of wood on the oven for a sign as other renters 
 are doing. On Sunday you put one piece of wood 
 on the oven, Monday another, Tuesday still another, 
 and when you count seven pieces of wood you know 
 that the holy Sabbath has come. And that is done 
 by the woman of the house,’’ he turned to Yocheved, 
 ‘because it is dangerous to depend on the man.” 
 
 “Many thanks for the good advice you give us,” 
 says Mendel on behalf of his bashful wife. ‘“‘Now 
 go and prepare some barley soup for our guest.” 
 And turning to the latter he said: | 
 
 “Until my wife will have the barley ready we will 
 say the evening prayer. It is getting late.” 
 
 The inn was now transformed into a synagogue. 
 In one corner stood the father with his son, in the 
 other the guest, and they pronounced the Eighteen 
 Benedictions together. 
 
 From the oven came the odor of the barley-soup 
 which Yocheved seasoned with an onion. The odor 
 pervaded the room and teased the appetite of the big 
 priest. He inhaled it through his big nostrils, swallowed 
 his saliva and smacked his lips. He knew, however, 
 that his prospects for sharing in the plate of barley 
 soup were slim and he became very sad. He rubbed 
 his back against the oven and, licking his lips like — 
 a kitten, he said to himself with great self-pity: 
 
 “Ah, dear Father, dear God, the blasphemous 
 Jews are eating barley-soup with sliced onions, and a 
 pious Christian soul has to starve. Avenge yourself 
 dear Father, dear God!” 
 
 Mendel pretended not to notice the glowing eyes 
 
LOSING COUNT OF THE DAYS 19. 
 
 of the overheated, red-faced priest. He invited his 
 guest into the next room and posted Marusha behind 
 the table of the inn to stand guard over the barrels 
 and flasks of brandy. And the priest groaned bitterly 
 on seeing Marusha with her bare arms standing 
 behind the table. All his hopes vanished and he 
 strove to give himself over to pious thoughts. 
 
 During the meal, while the guest was enveloped 
 in the vapor which rose from the earthenware dish 
 of barley-soup in the center of the table, he examined 
 the boy. Pinching Shlomele’s cheek, he asked: 
 
 “Well, tell me, big fellow, what are you learning 
 now?” 
 
 ‘Six years old already, praise God,’’ his father 
 answers for him, “‘and he has only begun the Bible. 
 It is hard being a Jew in the steppe.”’ 
 
 “God will compensate you,”’ the guest consoles 
 him. ‘You will some day have the privilege of 
 seeing Zlochov a Jewish settlement, and you will 
 live to be the Parnas of the community.”’ 
 
 Mendel was thoughtful a while. 
 
 ‘And the place really needs a synagogue,” the 
 guest added... ‘‘Such a large, broad steppe and with- 
 out a synagogue. And if the Lord of the Universe 
 wants His Jews to pray to Him, the nobleman will 
 have to grant the synagogue. He will have to, he 
 will be compelled to. Heaven itself will compel 
 him. Is it possible for him to oppose it?” 
 
CHAPTER THREE 
 A SyNAGOGUE! A SYNAGOGUE! 
 
 The Lord Konitz-Polski came down to Zlochov 
 for the hunt, and in his hunting-lodge he arranged 
 a ball for his guests. The steward of Zlochov sent 
 Mendel to Nemirov for a Jewish band of musicians 
 and a supply of gloves, which Mendel was to sell 
 to “their Excellencies’”’ for dancing with the noble 
 Polish ladies. 
 
 The hunting-lodge was built with high towers in 
 the Swedish style, and the halls were lighted by numer- 
 ous candles in iron chandeliers. And the Polish 
 gentlemen in long capes with broad sable collars 
 hanging down their shoulders, holding in their hands 
 their Hussar caps decorated with peacock feathers, 
 led to the Mazurka the noble ladies who were dressed 
 in white satin trimmed with royal ermine. The Jew- 
 ish fiddle quavered, scraping out long-drawn tunes, and 
 the Jewish cymbals of the Nemirov band beat sweetly 
 and resonantly to the measure. Their “Exalted 
 Excellencies”’ beat time to the music with the pointed 
 bronze spurs of their heels, and the ladies also beat 
 time with the golden little heels with which their 
 fur boots were ornamented, and Mendel ran about 
 with new-pressed gloves from one gallant to another, 
 saying beseechingly: 
 
A SYNAGOGUE! A SYNAGOGUE! a1 
 
 ‘‘A pair of gloves for the dance with the beautiful 
 and radiant noble lady.”’ 
 
 After each dance the gallants threw away their 
 gloves and snatched up a new pair from Mendel. It 
 was not proper to use the same pair with the new 
 partner. Mendel’s little boy, Shlomele, with the 
 trembling ear-locks, went in and out between the 
 legs of the gentlemen, collected the gloves which 
 had been thrown away and brought them to his 
 father. The latter put them into the wooden press, 
 made them smooth and peddled them again among 
 the cavaliers. 
 
 “Change your gloves, Excellencies,—in honor of 
 the ladies, change your gloves. It is not proper to 
 dance with the radiant noble ladies in used gloves, 
 Excellencies.”’ 
 
 Mendel did not rest a minute. When he was not 
 selling the gloves, he pressed them, singing at the 
 same time verses from the Psalms, which he knew 
 by heart, and spacing them with sighs and groans. 
 
 ‘“‘Ah, how the Gentiles rejoice—my calamities on 
 them, my wife’s travailing ills and my child’s tooth- 
 ache and measles and fever, dear Father in Heaven. 
 Gross materialists they are, gluttons and drunkards 
 and idol worshippers. And a synagogue, a holy 
 synagogue they will not permit to be built. Is it not 
 time that Thou shouldst rebuild Thy Holy Temple? 
 Well, I suppose the time is not yet, so let it be as 
 is pleasing unto Thee, Father in Heaven!” 
 
 ‘“‘Hey, there, Jew! stop mumbling your devilish 
 prayer. You are going to bring the devil down upon 
 
aie KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 us! Let me have gloves for the Mazurka with the 
 noble little lady of Zlochov, the radiant and ador- 
 able Mademoiselle Sophie, whose little head is like 
 a white dove,—but not the pressed ones which your 
 little bastard is picking up from under the feet of 
 the dancers—bright and new they must be for the 
 delicately shaped waist of my dove-headed angel.” 
 
 “What is your Exalted Excellency saying? 
 Who am I that would dare to defraud so Exalted 
 an Excellency like yourself? Why, I even knew 
 your father, the noble old gentleman. Ah, what a 
 good nobleman he was!’”” And in Hebrew he added: 
 “Thus perish all the wicked.” 
 
 “What cursed thing is that which you said in your 
 devil’s language? I will flay you alive if you will 
 curse my father in his grave.”’ 
 
 ‘I blessed your father, blessed him in our holy 
 language before our God, that he may dwell in our 
 beautiful Heaven.” 
 
 “Bless not and curse not, Jew. Have a care for 
 your skin and hide beneath your wife’s skirts when 
 I set my dogs on you. Faster, Jew, faster, hurry 
 Inow, my feet are on edge for the dance.” 
 
 ‘“‘One more minute, Excellency. Let them stay 
 in the press another minute. The longer they are 
 in the press the cleaner and the firmer do they become. 
 Just like a human being, Excellency. Just like us 
 Jews, Excellency.” 
 
 At this point there approached the proprietor 
 of Zlochov, the Lord Konitz-Polski, tall, broad- 
 shouldered and powerful, like a great oak tree. 
 
A SYNAGOGUE! A SYNAGOGUE! 23 
 
 His long black satin coat, which reached down to 
 his feet, made his body appear even more powerful, 
 and he looked as though he had been carved out of 
 wood, like a huge stump, except that from his broad 
 shoulders emerged, like a tower on a roof, his long 
 pointed head with shaved ear-locks and crown. His 
 big, thick mustaches, like those of a powerful catfish, 
 ran from ear to ear. 
 
 ‘Listen, Jew, you will entertain my guests tonight 
 with one of the songs which you sing. If you will 
 sing well, you will be able to obtain something from 
 me, understand?’’ 
 
 “I understand, Exalted Excellency.” 
 
 The Jew sprang backwards from the nobleman and 
 called his little son, who was still engaged in picking 
 up the discarded gloves from under the feet of the 
 dancers. His father smoothed out his ear-locks and 
 stationed him near himself. The gentlemen and 
 noble ladies began to gather round the Jew and the 
 little boy. The hall became silent, the musicians 
 stopped playing, only the burning candles sputtered 
 from time to time, and from the distant corners and 
 neighboring rooms could be heard the muffled laughter 
 and twitter of the radiant blond maidens and love- 
 sick ‘‘Excellencies’’. 
 
 The preparations lasted a long time. Suddenly 
 the Jew became completely transformed. He closed 
 his eyes and his face flushed red. It was clear that 
 he was struggling to transport himself, to attain 
 some other region. And suddenly he _ succeeded. 
 With a quick movement he put one of his fingers under 
 
24 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 his chin and all at once began to sing. At first he 
 sang slowly and softly, as though humming to him- 
 self, but soon his singing became louder, his voice 
 acquired daring. The Jew lost consciousness of 
 his surroundings. The nobles laughed a moment 
 longer, but soon they were completely silent. It 
 appeared as if the Jew were the sole master of that 
 vast hall. He saw neither the gentlemen nor the 
 ladies nor the glitter of satin and furs which surrounded 
 him. No one was there but he alone—he and his 
 betrothed. And it was no mortal woman to whom 
 he now intoned his great song of praise, but a higher, 
 a spiritual being. It was his Sabbath, his Mother, 
 to whom he sang; he sang to his hopes, to his tribu- 
 lations: 
 
 ‘“‘“A woman of valor who can find?” 
 
 No serenade to an earthly mistress did he sing, but 
 a serenade to his heavenly mistress, to the invisible 
 and ineffable bliss which she grants to him who thinks 
 ofher. Hesang of the great holiness and purity which 
 emanate from her and make beautiful those who 
 think of her and love her. Of his Bride the Sabbath 
 he sang, of his only Bride of thousands of years, and 
 of the great and everlasting love which his children’s 
 children unto the last generation will feel for the 
 Eternal Bride. The misfortunes and humiliations 
 which he bears for her sake became transformed into 
 honor and glory, the life of a dog was changed into 
 the life of a prince. Through the love which is 
 borne her, she transforms all things into heavenly 
 bliss. Of what importance then were his neighbors 
 
A SYNAGOGUE! A SYNAGOGUE! 25 
 
 and the nobles with their puny possessions, with 
 their tiny bit of earthly happiness, with their vain 
 and evanescent human strength and power, compared 
 to the eternity of his love for his magnificent Bride? 
 
 The nobles were silenced and abashed in the pres- 
 ence of the mighty nobleman standing in their midst 
 and singing a song of eternal love. 
 
 “You have served me well! You have sung well, 
 and my guests are pleased, Jew. Say what you wish. 
 Ask for a great deal, and don’t be too long about it. 
 I am more afraid of your craftiness than of your 
 appetite,’’ the Pan laughed. 
 
 ‘““Exalted Excellency,’’ the Jew threw himself at 
 the feet of the noble, ‘‘a synagogue and a cemetery! 
 A synagogue for prayer, and a cemetery for burying 
 our dead. Give us permission to have a synagogue 
 and a cemetery in Zlochov.”’ 
 
 The squire fell to thinking for a minute. He re- 
 membered the pearls which Zechariah of Chihirin 
 brought him when he came to that city. Zlochov 
 would likewise become a considerable settlement 
 and would pay taxes, but how would God and Father 
 Kozlowski like it? But an idea promptly occurred 
 to him which would serve the double purpose of 
 insuring good taxes and guaranteeing that God would 
 be pleased. 
 
 “Tf you will bow your head three times before 
 our Lord Jesus Christ and pronounce the Benedic- 
 tion before Holy Mary three times, I will grant the 
 permission and give you a handsome site for a ceme- 
 
 tery.”’ 
 
26 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 The Jew remained silent, and as though stunned. 
 
 “Well, Jew, shall we settle the affair? You need 
 only say, ‘Mary, Holiest Mother of God, be Thou 
 praised for ever and ever, Amen.’”’ 
 
 The Jew remained silent. 
 
 “Well, Jew, kneel but before her.’’ 
 
 The Jew was still silent. 
 
 ‘Then you will have to play the bear.’’ 
 
 The Jew turned pale and began to stammer. 
 
 ‘‘Exalted Excellency, I am only a poor Jew. 
 Have pity on my wife, on my little children. Pray, 
 Shlomele, my little boy, pray to the noble lord. 
 Have pity, Exalted Excellency, I will always serve 
 you faithfully. ”’ 
 
 And father and child embraced the squire’s feet 
 and kissed his boots and the floor in front of him, and 
 beat the floor with their foreheads. 
 
 ‘“‘Have pity on the little orphans, Exalted Ex- 
 cellency.”’ 
 
 ‘‘Either pronounce the Benediction or play the 
 bear.”’ 
 
 The Jew thought a while. He was pale and fright- 
 ened, and kept repeating verses from the Psalms and 
 the prayers, kissing the coat and boots of the noble. 
 But suddenly he saw light. His hands and knees 
 still trembled, but his face was now calm and tranquil. 
 
 “For a synagogue, Exalted Excellency. Have 
 pity. God will help. Doas you will.” 
 
 The noble motioned with his head, and two ser- 
 vants took the Jew and pulled over him the skin of 
 a bear. The noble then ordered the musicians to 
 
A SYNAGOGUE! A SYNAGOGUE! 27 
 
 play, and the two servants began to lash the bear 
 with long whips. The bear jumped about, growling: 
 este Dit 
 
 The noble gentlemen writhed with laughter and 
 pushed one another towards the bear, and the ser- 
 vants lashed and chased him from place to place. 
 The Jew behind the bearskin growled: 
 
 “The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom 
 shall I fear?-—Brr, brr!’ And he sprang on all 
 fours from place to place. ‘“‘The Lord is the strong- 
 hold of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?”’ 
 
 “You have played the bear well, Jew. You shall 
 have the synagogue for it; the cemetery you are still 
 to earn.” 
 
 Breathless the Jew ran home from the hunting- 
 lodge, his long four-fringed prayer-shawl getting 
 tangled between his legs. The little boy with the 
 trembling ear-locks ran after him, and from the other 
 side of the road both cried out, bringing the good 
 tidings to the mother: 
 
 ‘“‘A synagogue! A synagogue!” 
 
CHAPTER FOUR 
 THE DEDICATION OF THE SYNAGOGUE 
 
 Promptly it became known throughout Podolya 
 and Volhynia, wherever Jews were to be found, that 
 a new Jewish settlement had been established. 
 Zlochov having obtained permission to build a syn- 
 agogue, Jews from all the surrounding districts be- 
 gan to move into that town. There came Jews from 
 Kherson, from Chihirin, from the other side of the 
 Dnieper, from Lubno, from Lachovitch and from 
 Preyaslaw. For the reports stated further that 
 Zlochov was a good place for making a living. It 
 was not far from the Setch, and it was possible to 
 carry on trade with the Cossacks; and Jews came 
 even from Little Poland who, at the annual fairs 
 which were held in Yarislaw and Lublin, had heard 
 that Zlochov had become a Jewish settlement. 
 
 First of all the Jews set to work building the syna- 
 gogue. They contributed towards the common 
 fund whatever they could, the women offering their 
 jewels. Two Jewish master builders were brought 
 down from Nemirov and commissioned to build 
 the synagogue. 
 
 It took two years to build it. The townspeople 
 themselves took a hand in the actual building. The 
 synagogue had to serve two purposes: as a house of 
 prayer and as a place of defense against enemies. 
 
THE DEDICATION OF THE SYNAGOGUE 29 
 
 The synagogue was therefore built like a fort with 
 iron doors and bolts. Nachman the blacksmith, 
 who ran the town smithy, fashioned the iron door 
 for the synagogue, the railing for the central platform, 
 a large menorah for the pulpit-stand and a large 
 Chanukkah lamp. His work was simple and rough, 
 but performed with great love and diligence. All 
 the artifices of which Nachman was capable he 
 lavished on the railing for the central platform, on 
 the Menorah and on the Chanukkah lamp. The 
 same was done by Boruch the carpenter. Under 
 the supervision of the two master builders from Nemi- 
 rov he carved various figures and designs which he 
 remembered from the days of his apprenticeship, 
 pigeons and other birds, stags and lions, the symbols 
 of the twelve tribes and the signs of the Zodiac. 
 Through long nights he sat by the light of a burning 
 stick of wood, carving the woodwork for the synagogue. 
 And when the head of a household went to the annual 
 fair in one of the large cities and saw an attractive 
 object, a fine piece of silk for an ark-curtain, a bib- 
 lical scene to hang on the east wall, a fancy chair 
 in honor of the prophet Elijah or some other ornament, 
 he bought it and took it home for the synagogue. 
 And the women sat up through the winter nights in 
 the inn with Mendel’s wife and, singing pious songs, 
 sewed their jewels into the curtains for the Ark and 
 into the covers for the scrolls of the Torah. 
 Mendel, as the first settler of Zlochov, enjoying as 
 he did the confidence of the Polish proprietor, be- 
 came the parnas of the new community and, anxious 
 
30 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 that Zlochov should acquire some standing in the 
 world, he decided to secure as rabbi some great scholar 
 with a big reputation. 
 
 The community at Lachovitch had a rabbi who 
 was surnamed the ‘‘Gate of Justice’, and whose praises 
 were sung loud throughout the region. Mendel 
 made up his mind quickly, harnessed a wagon, pro- 
 ceeded to Lachovitch, offered the rabbi twelve Polish 
 pence a week more than Lachovitch gave, and granted, 
 moreover, to the rabbi’s wife a monopoly in providing 
 the town with candles. He thus obtained the rabbi’s 
 consent together with a written promise. Later, 
 when Lachovitch became aware of the matter, it 
 was already too late. Mendel took the Gaon of 
 Lachovitch to Zlochov, and in this way Zlochov at 
 once acquired a name in the world. The rabbi 
 organized classes, looked after the Hebrew schools, 
 taught the young men Talmud, so that Zlochov be- 
 gan to be a place of learning. 
 
 And when it got to be known at the fairs of Yaris- 
 law and Lublin that Zlochov had become a place 
 of learning, there began to arrive in the new settle- 
 ment not only artisans and merchants but also scholars 
 and men of refinement. Reb Jacob Cohen came 
 to Zlochov from a small town in Germany which had 
 been destroyed following a blood accusation, only 
 Reb Jacob, fleeing with the Torah scrolls of the 
 town, escaping. And another was Reb Israel of 
 Bohemia, who came to Zlochov with his little daughter 
 from the town of Asch. They had heard at the annual 
 fair in Lublin that in the distant regions of the steppe 
 
THE DEDICATION OF THE SYNAGOGUE 31 
 
 God had permitted settlements where Jews could 
 find a livelihood, and so they came down to settle 
 in Zlochov. 
 
 And Mendel was anxious to bring about a union 
 between his family and one of high pedigree, since 
 Shlomele was already eight years old, and it was time 
 to think of getting him married, in order, in this 
 manner, to hasten the end of the Exile. And Mendel 
 the parnas desired to ally himself with the ‘Gate 
 of Justice’, who had a little girl of Shlomele’s age, 
 so he promised maintenance to the couple all his 
 life-time and a large number of gold coins. And in 
 order to dedicate the synagogue, as was the custom, 
 with a wedding of the first families of the town, the 
 marriage ceremony was postponed until the day of 
 dedication. The children, it is true, were still young, 
 but this was done so as to grant them the privilege 
 of dedicating the synagogue with their marriage. 
 
 The synagogue was ready for Passover, but the 
 dedication was postponed until Lag B’Omer, for 
 that day is considered to be very lucky. 
 
 Outside the synagogue looked small, that it might 
 not be conspicuous in the eyes of the Gentiles, but 
 inside it was high and wide. The floor was dug deep 
 into the ground, twelve steps beneath the level of 
 the entrance, and it sloped down even deeper so that 
 the pulpit-stand where the cantor stood was the 
 lowest spot of all. This was done for two reasons: 
 in the first place, so that the synagogue should not 
 loom big in the eyes of the Gentiles and, secondly, 
 
SP KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 when prayers were offered to God, it would be done 
 in accordance with the verse in the Psalms: ‘Out 
 of the depths I have called Thee, Oh Lord.’”’ But 
 from the pulpit-stand there were carved steps which 
 led up to the Ark, for it is not fitting that the Word of 
 God should be lodged in the depths. 
 
 On this day the Ark was draped in the new festive 
 curtain, which was embroidered with silver threads 
 on blue Florentine brocade. The crown of the Torah 
 shone down from the curtain with the subdued 
 Sabbath glow of the chaste pearls which used to 
 lend so much grace to the pure white throats of 
 the young Jewish matrons at the time of blessing 
 the Sabbath candles. Those pearls were hallowed 
 with the tranquil charm of Sabbath evenings. And 
 deep-red rubies sparkled like red wine out of the 
 clusters of grapes which hung on green branches 
 made of emeralds. The names of the pious women 
 and maidens were embroidered on the curtain, as 
 well as their prayers, prayers for virtuous children 
 and sweet hopes and modest and chaste longings for 
 love. Thus did that little curtain exhale a feminine 
 charm bestowed by the delicate fingers of women, 
 and suggesting the chaste music which is heard is- 
 suing from Jewish houses on Sabbath nights. 
 
 In the center of the synagogue stood the platform 
 built of hard chestnut wood and carved with the 
 names of the twelve tribes and their standards. 
 Each tribe had its own flag and color. Judah, as 
 the king, was brilliant with gold, with the lion at 
 his feet; Simeon with his captured city of Shechem, 
 
THE DEDICATION OF THE SYNAGOGUE 33 
 
 where rose up the walls and towers of that city which 
 he had conquered to avenge the shame of his sister; 
 and the ship of Zebulun floated in a sea of silver; 
 the blossoming tree, the symbol of Asher, was studded 
 with green stones; out of copper was fashioned the 
 serpent of Dan. And above the platform hung a 
 canopy like the deep blue sky of the evening in which 
 golden stars twinkled and the twelve signs of the 
 Zodiac floated in the blue night, each over its cor- 
 responding tribe. On the platform there now stood 
 the leading men with the scrolls of the Torah in their 
 arms, ready to place them in the new dwelling which 
 they had built for the glory of God. Among them 
 stands Reb Jacob Cohen from Germany, and the 
 scroll which he holds is the only thing left to him of 
 his numerous family and of the entire community 
 which was scattered and dispersed to the four cor- 
 ners of the earth. And there stands Reb Israel with 
 the scroll of the synagogue of the city of Asch. 
 During the panic he had become separated from his 
 wife and children, so he had come to Poland to look 
 for them. For he had been told that many Jews 
 from Bohemia had saved themselves in Poland. He 
 had wandered from one fair to another until he came 
 to Zlochov with his child, and settled there. 
 
 And among these old worthies, rich with tribulations 
 and tested in the fires of martyrdom, with the scrolls 
 of the devastated communities in their arms, stood 
 the new leader, the parnas of the community, Reb 
 Mendel, with a new scroll which had been written 
 at his behest for the new community of Zlochov. 
 
34 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 The new scroll has as yet no covering stained with 
 the blood of martyrs and with the tears of fugitives. 
 Its covering is still new and unstained, and its guardian 
 Mendel, still looks strong and untried. His face is 
 without the holy glow imparted by sorrow and suffer- 
 ing and self-sacrifice; no trace, as yet, of that nobility 
 which proceeds from the readiness for the supreme 
 sacrifice. But with his large and heavy hands he 
 clasps the new scroll of the Torah very tightly. 
 There is fear in his heart because of the sacred bur- 
 den which he has assumed to be the parnas of a 
 community. He realizes how great and holy is the 
 burden which is borne by the old parnasim, the 
 leaders of the ruined communities among whom he 
 now stands. And his heart beats fast. Will the 
 time ever come when he, too, will have to stand by 
 his community and his Torah, even as they had done, 
 at the risk of his life? Will he be ready for the 
 supreme sacrifice for the sanctification of His Name, 
 even as they were? Will not his heart become faint? 
 Is he worthy of the honor and the obligation which 
 he has assumed? 
 
 Suddenly the entire assemblage became silent. 
 A holy stillness reigned throughout the synagogue 
 as though some one invisible had entered. Reb 
 Jacob took up his scroll of the Torah, lifted it on high 
 and, in a voice full of tears, began to intone the prayer 
 of gratitude of those who have been saved from great 
 danger, thanking God who had rescued him from all 
 perils and brought him, together with his scroll, 
 to a place of safety. A subdued sobbing was heard 
 
THE DEDICATION OF THE SYNAGOGUE 35 
 
 from the women’s section below. It was the wife 
 of one of the exiles who remembered her dear ones, 
 from whom she had become separated. The weeping 
 affected the entire congregation. They were seized 
 with a dread of the days to come: Will they, too, 
 ever have to abandon their synagogue, even as Reb 
 Jacob had done, the synagogue which they had built 
 with so much labor and love, and take their scrolls 
 and go? Who can say what things are hidden in 
 the lap of the days to come? And one after an- 
 other the exiles intoned the prayer of the rescued. 
 And when the young cantor, whom Reb Mendel had 
 brought from Uman, began in his guttural voice 
 to pronounce the names of those who had given their 
 lives for the sanctification of His Name, the weeping 
 became universal. From all eyes the tears flowed 
 silently, and a prayer to God rose up from the depths 
 of every heart, that the little synagogue might be 
 their final place of rest and refuge until the coming 
 of the Messiah. 
 
 “‘God grant that this be our last exile,’”’ the Jews 
 wished each other. 
 
 ‘““And may we be preserved from all evil.”” The 
 women kissed each other and wept. 
 
 Soon, however, the sorrowful mood departed, and 
 the faces of young and old lighted up like a rain- 
 covered field on which the sun is shining. It was 
 the singing of the cantor, accompanied by Isaac 
 Aaron’s playing on the violin, which lighted up every 
 saddened countenance. The cantor was singing 
 the portion prior to the opening of the Ark. 
 
36 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 And Shlomele, Mendel’s son, dressed in a coat 
 of green silk which the little tailor, his teacher, had 
 made him for his wedding, opened the Ark. One 
 after another the men mounted the steps and placed 
 the scrolls of the Torah into the new Ark. Two 
 lions of wood with crowns on their heads stood one 
 on each side of the Ark guarding the scrolls, and two 
 large gilt eagles flew down, by means of a secret 
 mechanism which the woodturner of Nemirov had 
 invented, from the heights where they had rested 
 beneath the starry blue sky, and remained suspended 
 over the Ark, protecting the scrolls with their broad 
 wings, First honors were given to the scrolls. of 
 the exiles. First came old Reb Jacob with his scroll. 
 Then followed Reb Israel of Germany, and then the 
 rabbi of the synagogue. Last of all came Mendel 
 with the new scroll of the community of Zlochov. 
 And when his turn came to put his unadorned scroll 
 into the Ark, he remained standing a minute before 
 it and his heart was filled witha silent prayer: ‘Dear 
 Father in Heaven, may it be a resting place for our 
 children and children’s children,’’ and a tear, the 
 first tear, fell from the eyes of the new parnas upon 
 the robe of the Torah scroll. 
 
 Soon the violin began to play, the drum beat to 
 measure and a choir of little singers with thin little 
 voices began tosing: ‘‘Lord who Fillest the Universe. ”’ 
 The congregation took up the song, and with it 
 their joy waxed ever greater. The sad mood van- 
 ished as well as the dread which had reigned before. 
 The joyous fervor of Jewish worship filled the 
 
THE DEDICATION OF THE SYNAGOGUE 37 
 
 Synagogue, and seized upon the people. The voices 
 of the little choir boys tinkled like little bells around 
 the necks of goats that are being taken to graze in 
 green pastures. | 
 
 And now the violins broke into the singing like 
 a rush of fountains. They began to play the wedding 
 music. The little tailor, Shlomele’s teacher, made, 
 sexton of the synagogue, now came in, dressed in 
 broad Polish trousers of the color of wool, which he| 
 had sewed for himself for the wedding, skipping 
 with the canopy-poles in his hands and crying half in 
 Yiddish, half in Polish: 
 
 “Ho there, Jews, stand aside, don’t you see who 
 iscoming? It is Pan Itzik coming to the wedding!” 
 
 The boys and young men took hold of the canopy- 
 poles and set up the canopy on the platform. A 
 flute was heard as if heralding the approach of a 
 lord, and suddenly there broke upon the scene a red 
 and golden shimmer and glittering of pearls and 
 diamonds on the breasts of women, and tufts of 
 feathers and jewels on headdresses. There was a 
 sparkle of red silk from Slutzk interwoven with 
 threads of gold, a crimson glow of blood-red beads 
 in the midst of starry strings of pearls, and yellow 
 agate bloomed like golden-yellow flowers on white 
 satin. Delicate, white lace-points rose like the foam 
 of the sea on the breasts of the women. Heavy, 
 gold-embroidered scarfs wound over the silk as 
 though anxious to guard the mysterious loveliness 
 of feminine charms. Slowly and with dignified gait 
 walked the mothers in all their pomp and splendor, 
 
38 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 leading the bride between them. She was still a 
 little child, not yet ten years old, nevertheless she 
 was needed in order “‘to hasten the coming of the 
 Messiah.’’ Her black curls had fallen beneath the 
 shears, and as the child did not know that her soul 
 was required for the salvation of the world, she had 
 protested and had not permitted her black locks to 
 fall until Leah, thé bath-attendant, had paid her 
 with sweet cookies, a cooky for each lock. Even 
 now her road to the canopy is sweetened by the sugar 
 cookies which she had purchased with her locks... 
 She was dressed in the wedding-robe of gold cloth 
 which the community had ordered. This coat was 
 intended to be worn by every bride who was led 
 to the canopy in order not to cause the poor to be 
 ashamed who had no slik dresses of their own. For 
 the first time she was wearing the wedding-dress, and 
 after her all the brides of Zlochov would wear it 
 when going to the canopy. And all the maidens 
 of Zlochov, holding lighted tapers, twisted and 
 colored brilliant Polish ribbons, illumined the road 
 to the canopy of the first bride of Zlochov. 
 
 Now the bride is already beneath the canopy and 
 playing with the flounces of her dress, but the bride- 
 groom is not there yet. The wedding bard has al- 
 ready sung his ballad, the musicians have played 
 their “‘piece’’, and the bridegroom is not yet in sight. 
 In vain the sexton and the trustees are running about 
 with lighted candles, looking in all the corners for 
 the bridegroom. At last he was found hiding under- 
 neath the chair of the prophet Elijah. He was be- 
 
THE DEDICATION OF THE SYNAGOGUE 39 
 
 trayed by his long, green, silken coat, and his teacher 
 chased him from beneath the chair with his stick: 
 
 “Bridegroom, to the canopy with you!” 
 
 But the little fellow kicked hard with his new spiked 
 boots, and refused to come out from under the chair 
 until his father pulled him out by his ear-locks. 
 
 He was ashamed before his playmates, who stuck 
 out their tongues behind him and sang in his ears 
 the following rhyme: 
 
 All the folks are gaily dancing, 
 Laughing, singing, skipping, prancing, 
 Shlomele still weeps and weeps. 
 Shlomele, Shlomele, why dost weep? 
 Why, I weep, ah well I know 
 
 Neath the canopy I must go. 
 
 He kicked with his heavy boots, but he went to 
 the canopy, his father dragging him by his ear. 
 They were afraid that he might run away from be- 
 neath the canopy, so his father held him by the coat . 
 on one side and his teacher on the other. He, there- 
 fore, vented his wrath on the bride, digging her in 
 the ribs until she won him over with one of the cookies 
 which she had purchased with her locks. Then 
 he consented to the match. 
 
 And far and wide pealed the song of the new syna- 
 gogue over the desert steppes of Ukraine, and the 
 message was borne over field and forest, and every 
 tree and every blade of grass whispered in the warm 
 spring night: ‘‘A synagogue has been built, a 
 marriage consecrated, God’s blessing is at hand! 
 God’s blessing is at hand!” 
 
CHAPTER FIVE 
 THE MARRIED COUPLE 
 
 It cannot be said that the young couple, Shlomele 
 and Deborah, lived on very friendly terms after the 
 wedding. And to Shlomele’s shame it must be said 
 that it was he who was always at fault whenever the 
 domestic peace was disturbed. Shlomele, who was 
 then thirteen years old and preparing for bar mizvah 
 (confirmation), was attending the class of the Talmud 
 teacher, and felt thoroughly at home in the great 
 sea of the Talmud, conversant with all the laws of 
 marriage, with the details of marriage contracts and 
 with all the obligations which a wife owes to her 
 husband and a husband to his wife. He was also 
 familiar with all the laws of divorce. Shlomele, who 
 knew how to unite two opposites by means of an 
 adroit interpretation of a text, and could build up 
 “towers of Babel’”’ by means of a pilpul, was often 
 the recipient of a flogging at the hands of his teacher. 
 The latter was very little impressed by the important 
 position which Shlomele occupied in the world as 
 a married man. The husband would then avenge 
 himself for the lashes of his teacher on the head-dress 
 of his little wife. Finding his wife seated near the 
 threshhold of the inn, playing in the sand, he would 
 snatch the head-dress from her head and fill it with 
 sand. 
 
THE MARRIED COUPLE 41 
 
 “There, that’s what you get for having mocked 
 at me.” 
 
 “For this they will flog you in hell with burning 
 lashes,’’ his little wife warned him. 
 
 “The sin is yours for standing under the sky with- 
 out a covering for your head.”’ 
 
 Then the wife declared their relations severed in 
 the following terms: 
 
 Shlomele, Shlomele, don’t speak to me, 
 Blind your eyes and never see; 
 
 Filled with blood little buckets two, 
 Never will I speak to you. 
 
 *Mong little buckets filled with chalk 
 Will I never with you walk. 
 
 Thereupon the young man accepted her declara- 
 tion and turned on his heel. And his wife covered 
 her eyes with both her hands so as not to see him. 
 
 It is a Friday afternoon in the summer. The 
 inn is full of Russian peasants and Polish Pans. 
 Mendel is busy in the inn with the drygoods and the 
 brandy, Yocheved with preparing for the Sabbath, 
 and outside the children are engaged in a loud quarrel. 
 Hearing the great noise, Marusha stepped out and, 
 seeing what Shlomele had done with his little wife’s 
 head-dress, she began to scold him. 
 
 “Rascal that you are, is that the way to treat a 
 wife? You should be fond of her, not throw sand 
 on her head.”’ 
 
 “Ha, ha’’, the young man stuck out his tongue 
 at her. ‘‘You are of the lineage of Balaam’s ass, 
 and you will have no portion in the world to come, 
 
42 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 and your soul will enter into a dog and a cat, because 
 you are not descended from Father Jacob but from 
 the wicked Esau.”’ 
 
 “Tt is you who are descended from the wicked 
 Esau. You are an Esau yourself,’’ the servant 
 scolded him. ‘‘You have committed a sin, letting 
 your wife stand outdoors with uncovered head. Is 
 that permitted? For that they will burn and roast 
 you in hell.”” Thus the Christian servant took up 
 the little wife’s grievance. 
 
 Shlomele remembered that he had not yet been 
 given the pudding to which he is entitled on Fridays. 
 He demanded it. 
 
 “Give me the pudding, and have done 
 
 “You first pronounce the Benediction, then you 
 will get the pudding,”’ the servant insisted. 
 
 ‘“‘How does that concern you? JI’ll pronounce 
 the Benediction without you. You give me the 
 pudding.’’ | 
 
 “You are the wicked Esau himself, and you are 
 liable, God forbid, to eat without a Benediction.” 
 
 There was no help for it, and Shlomele had to 
 comply with the servant’s demand, although it 
 gave him pain that the Christian woman was looking 
 out for his religious observances. But, as the frag- 
 rance of the blackberry pudding which the servant 
 held reached his nostrils and made his mouth water, 
 he pronounced the Benediction and was given the 
 pudding. Over the pudding friendly relations be- 
 tween husband and wife were re-established. Soon 
 they were sitting together in perfect domestic tran- 
 
 1? 
 
THE MARRIED COUPLE 43 
 
 quillity on the doorstep of the inn, and sharing the 
 pudding between them. 
 
 But they were not allowed to sit long together in 
 peace. Mendel’s voice made itself heard from the 
 inn. 
 
 ““Shlomele! Shlomele!’’ 
 
 And Marusha appeared in the doorway. ‘‘Go 
 into the house, young rascal, your father wants you 
 to go and open the church for the peasants.”’ 
 
 When Shlomele came into the inn, he found his 
 father in the center of a circle of Russian peasants 
 and peasant women, and one peasant, half naked, 
 barefooted and bareheaded, wearing only a long 
 shirt, was holding in his arms an infant wrapped in 
 rags and kneeling before Mendel. 
 
 “Dear little father, have pity, let us have the key 
 for the church, so we can christen the child. It is 
 already four months old and not yet sprinkled with 
 God’s water. He may die unchristened, and then 
 the devil will take him away.”’ 
 
 “Yes, and then some of you will tell the Polish 
 priest that I gave the key without the fee, and he 
 will have me flogged as he did at the time of Yephrem’s 
 wedding. The Jew gets plenty of lashes for his own 
 religion, and I have no desire to be flogged for another. 
 I'll not do it.”’ 
 
 ““May we be stricken dumb, may our mouths be 
 paralyzed if we say a single word,” the half naked 
 peasant besought Mendel, kneeling in front of him. 
 “Help, dear little father. The child is sick and is 
 liable to die. It will fall into the hands of the devil, 
 
44 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 and then come and choke its father. Have pity, 
 dear little father.” 
 
 “Take the key, Shlomo, and open the church for 
 the peasants,’’ and Mendel gave Shlomele the key, 
 which hung on the nail together with the keys of 
 the rooms where he stored the brandy. 
 
 ‘““God will repay you, dear little father, God will 
 repay you,”’ and the half naked peasant kissed Mendel’s 
 boots and followed Shlomo with the infant in his 
 arms. 
 
 ‘‘Come, Father, do God’s work, the Jew has 
 granted the key.’’ The peasant turned to the Greek 
 Orthodox Priest who was sitting on the bench near 
 the oven. 
 
 But the priest did not stir. With his broad back 
 he hid the oven from view and remained sitting as 
 though he were plastered to the wall. 
 
 “What are you waiting for, Little Father?”’ Mendel 
 asked him. 
 
 “There was a thimbleful of holy spirits in the 
 church and the souls drank it, and without holy 
 spirits God will not receive the soul into the 
 Christian faith,’’ the priest replied. 
 
 ‘What do you want?” 
 
 “Do a Christian deed, Mendel, help a poor naked 
 soul to come into the Christian faith by contributing 
 a bottle of wine for the church,” and the priest pulled 
 an empty flask from his broad pocket and held it 
 towards Mendel. ‘‘God will pay you for it. We 
 are poor folk.” 
 
 “Woe is me, he is beginning again! What does 
 
THE MARRIED COUPLE 45 
 
 this lumbering creature want of me? The Polish priest 
 will flog me to death. Haven’t I a wife and a child? 
 I am not helping, I am not doing anything, I know 
 of nothing whatever. You want the key to the 
 church,—here take it. I have no need for it for 
 myself. You want brandy,—here take some brandy. 
 That’s what I keep the inn for,—to sell brandy. 
 But how am I helping you? How, I ask? I am 
 not helping at all. I am doing nothing at all. I 
 know of nothing,’’ and Mendel poured a measure of 
 brandy into the flask for the priest, and pushed him 
 out of the inn. 
 
 Shlomele opened the church for the priest and ran 
 away swiftly so as not to touch the walls of the church. 
 He stopped at a distance so as not to become “‘un- 
 clean’’ from hearing the singing in the church. 
 And when the priest’s bass voice reached him none 
 the less, he covered his ears with his hands in order 
 not to hear the sounds, which would stupefy his 
 mind against the study of the Torah. 
 
 His father waited for him near the door of 
 the inn with a bundle of clean linen under his arm, 
 and took him to the communal bath for the Sabbath 
 ablutions, for the sexton had proclaimed in the 
 market-place of the town that the bath was ready. 
 
 On getting home from the bath, all clean and dressed 
 in clean shirts with broad white collars folded over 
 their long green coats, they found the inn transformed 
 into a peaceful Sabbath nest. There was nothing 
 in evidence which could remind one of an inn. The 
 kegs of brandy were covered with white sheets, and 
 
46 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 before the shelves were hung shawls and curtains. 
 The inn was tidied up and transformed into a Sabbath 
 home looking as though no buying and selling of 
 any sort had ever been conducted there. Seven 
 pure tallow candles burned in the large brass candle- 
 stick, on the base of which sparkled the words in 
 Hebrew: “Lights for the Sabbath.” Two pairs 
 of white loaves, one large pair for the master of 
 the house and one small one for the young husband, 
 were set upon the white linen-covered table together 
 with a large silver cup and a small silver cup. And 
 the mother with her daughter-in-law sat by the table, 
 both dressed in long trailing coats of green silk and 
 new lace head-dresses. Their white foreheads were 
 bound with fillets, and on their bosoms sparkled the 
 plates studded with jewels which they had received 
 from their husbands. Little Deborah, looking as 
 though she were disguised as a young wife, aped 
 everything that her mother-in-law did, and Marusha, 
 dressed for the Sabbath in a new apron and a new 
 headkerchief, sat on a little stool near the oven and 
 gazed with pride on the young mistress. Mother 
 and daughter sang together a song in honor of the 
 Sabbath before the blessing of the candles: 
 
 A pleasant song I now will sing, 
 
 With joyful voice which loud shall ring, 
 
 In honor of the holy Queen far-famed: 
 Sabbath is the name by which she is named. 
 
 God, with whom doth ever dwell the light, 
 May He send unto my home the Sabbath bright; 
 
THE MARRIED COUPLE 47 
 
 For her dear sake my house I purified, 
 Why lingers she so long outside? 
 
 Six long days she roams in sun and rain 
 
 Like one who doth in exile suffer bitter pain; 
 Even like a bird from roof to roof she flies 
 Until the hour when holy Sabbath hither hies. 
 
 And when Shlomele had taken the large prayer 
 book and was ready to go with his father to the 
 synagogue, there was heard the noise of a big Polish 
 equipage with many horses, which stopped in front 
 of the inn. 
 
 ““Hey there, Jew, open! His Exalted Excellency, 
 Pan Dombrowski, is knocking at your door. Open!” 
 
 “Heavens, his great Excellency Pan Dombrowski 
 is knocking at my door! I cannot, I cannot, dear 
 master, it is the Sabbath now.”’ 
 
 “Jew, I will have thirty lashes given you. Open 
 the door!’’ 
 
 ‘“‘T must not, dear master. It is the Jew’s Sabbath 
 now!” 
 
 “How dare you, Jew? His Exalted Excellency, 
 Pan Dombrowski, desires a glass of whiskey.” 
 
 ‘“‘I cannot, dear master, I must not, dear master, 
 it is the Sabbath now.” 
 
 ‘‘Put a measure of brandy down behind the door. 
 Not a drop to be had in the whole city.”’ 
 
 “‘T cannot, dear master, my wife has already lighted 
 the candles.’ — 
 
48 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 ‘“‘Accursed Jew! When the Jew keeps his Sabbath 
 all Poland must be without brandy,” said a voice 
 from the other side of the door. 
 
CHAPTER SIX 
 To THE YESHIVAH 
 
 When Shlomele was fourteen years old, they made 
 ready to send him to the famous Yeshivah of Lublin, 
 where all Jewish young men of good family went 
 to study. Mendel was planning to go to Lublin 
 for the annual fair where the Assembly of the Four 
 Countries, the Jewish Parliament, was to convene 
 that year. Mendel desired to present himself to 
 this body for the first time as parnas, and, also, to 
 submit for its consideration an important matter 
 which concerned the general Jewish welfare. 
 
 One fine Friday afternoon the little tailor, Shlomele’s 
 teacher, appeared in Zlochov. As soon as the Sab- 
 bath was over, he sat down behind the oven in Mendel’s 
 inn, armed with needle and thimble, to sew garments 
 for Shlomele to take along on his journey. The 
 little tailor made garments on the same principle 
 as did the Jews of old in the desert, so that the gar- 
 ments might grow along with the wearer. The 
 lower edge he folded under so that by taking out 
 the seam the garment could be made longer. Out 
 of one of Mendel’s old garments the little tailor made 
 a wadded winter overcoat for Shlomele. He made 
 him a fancy coat of purple silk for Sabbaths and 
 holidays, a pair of broad trousers of black calico and 
 several coarse linen shirts. The little tailor sewed 
 
50 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 the garments in accordance with all the religious 
 prescriptions, with round corners so as to exempt them 
 from the necessity of having fringes, guarding care- 
 fully against a mixture of wool and silk, not wasting 
 a moment during his work and singing Psalms or 
 studying the Mishnah, which he knew by heart. 
 
 It was rumored concerning the little tailor that 
 he was a Tzaddik incognito, one of the “thirty-six”’ 
 by whose grace the world exists. The little tailor 
 used to disappear from the town for several weeks 
 at a time and to live in the deep forests. Some- 
 times he would put in a sudden appearance, the day 
 before the Sabbath, at the home of a solitary Jewish 
 innkeeper and pronounce the Kzddush for the un- 
 lettered man; or he would appear before a lonely 
 woman in labor in the dead of night in some out-of- 
 the-way inn, and wage war against the Lilith who 
 had come to slay the child. Rumor had it that unto 
 the little tailor in the forest used to come the souls of 
 great scholars, who taught him the mysteries of 
 the Torah. The garments which the little tailor 
 sewed were a charm against various diseases. They 
 would clothe in them a person who was dangerously 
 ill, and he became well, or a woman in hard labor 
 with child, and the child was born. 
 
 In Mendel’s home the little tailor was regarded 
 as a holy person, and his sewing as holy work. Silence 
 reigned near the large oven where the little tailor 
 sat and sewed garments for Shlomele. They were 
 sure that the little tailor’s garments would protect 
 him from all evil, and guard him throughout the 
 
TO THE YESHIVAH 51 
 
 long period when Shlomele would be far from home 
 among strangers. 
 
 On the Sabbath before Shlomele left for the Ye- 
 shivah, he was sitting in the large room on the wooden 
 bench studying his portion of the Talmud. No one 
 else was in the room, his parents beingasleep. Where- 
 upon the old servant Marusha took little Deborah, 
 his wife,'‘and decked her out in her finest clothes. A 
 white, embroidered bonnet came down over her ears, 
 and she wore a white embroidered apron over her 
 green silk dress. Marusha gave her a pear and an 
 apple and sent her in to Shlomele. The old woman 
 herself stood behind the door and looked in through 
 a crack. Seeing her husband, Deborah remained 
 standing near the door, stuck her finger into her mouth 
 and with the other hand held her white apron. 
 Shlomele continued his Talmudic chant, throwing 
 now and then a glance in her direction. All at once 
 his little wife approached him and remained standing 
 near him. Shlomele closed the large Talmud folio 
 and looked at her. 
 
 For a long time husband and wife looked at each 
 other in silence. Then the little girl took into her 
 hand one of the fringes of his long four-fringed gar- 
 ment, which almost covered him completely. 
 
 ‘“You are going away?”’ 
 
 ‘““Ves,’’ Shlomele nodded. 
 
 “T don’t want you to go away.” 
 
 ‘“‘T must go to the Yeshivah to study the Torah,— 
 the rabbi has ordered it.”’ 
 
 ‘‘And when will you come back?” 
 
2 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 ‘““When I shall be all grown up, and a first class 
 student of Holy Torah.”’ 
 
 Again the child was silent for a few moments. 
 Then she suddenly exclaimed: 
 
 “T want to go home to my mother.”’ 
 
 “You cannot go home to your mother. You 
 must stay here, because you are wedded to me in 
 accordance with the law of Moses and Israel.’’ 
 
 ‘“‘T am not wedded to you.” 
 
 “‘Do you remember when we both stood under the 
 canopy the day when the synagogue was dedicated 
 and I placed a little ring on your finger?”’ 
 
 The little girl could find no answer to this. . 
 
 “But I want to go home. I don’t want to stay 
 here,’’ the little girl exclaimed, suddenly bowing her 
 head towards him. 
 
 “Why?” 
 
 ‘Just so.” 
 
 “Why, just so?” 
 
 ‘‘ Because you are going away.” | 
 
 “And if I will bring you something when I come 
 back, will you stay here?”’ 
 
 “What will you bring me?” 
 
 “What should I bring you?”’ 
 
 “A pair of golden slippers like your mother’s, with 
 high heels.” 
 
 “Very well, I’ll bring them for you.”’ 
 
 “With golden laces?” 
 
 “Yes. And you will not go home?” 
 
 “No, I will not even cry.”’ 
 
TO THE YESHIVAH 53 
 
 “Tf so, then I like you,’’ Shlomele answered, 
 stroking her head-dress. 
 
 “And I like you, too,” said Deborah, pulling at 
 the fringe of his garment. | 
 
 Husband and wife were again silent a while. Sud- 
 denly Deborah remembered something. 
 
 “Will you have an apple?” 
 
 “Yes,” the boy nodded. 
 
 Deborah took the apple out of the pocket of her 
 apron and gave it to him. 
 
 ‘Where did you get it?” 
 
 ‘“Marusha gave it to me. An apple for you anda 
 pear for me.’’ And the girl took the pear out of the 
 other pocket. 
 
 The two sat down on the bench to eat the fruit. 
 
 ‘“‘Here, taste my pear,”’ says the little wife. 
 
 ‘““Taste my apple,’”’ says the little husband. 
 
 The following morning, when the first rays of the 
 red sun, which lighted up half the heavens, had re- 
 moved the shroud of night from the earth, Hillel 
 the driver stopped his hooded van in front of the inn. 
 From the inn they began to carry out pillows and covers 
 and shawls, and big and little bags of food and kegs 
 of brandy, provisions for the journey from Zlochov 
 to Lublin, which would take two to three weeks. 
 Chayim the Postman, or, as he was called, “the 
 Guardian of Israel,’’ also got into the van. He was 
 taken along as a defense against brigands. 
 
 Chayim was a tall, powerful Jew who was able 
 to ride a horse and, alone of all the Jews of the town, 
 
54 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 knew how to use gun and powder. He was dressed 
 in his official uniform of a Jewish policeman, with 
 one gun in front and another behind, and around his 
 waist a big belt, from which hung down his powder 
 horn. 
 
 Chayim was a public personage. He was officially 
 employed as court messenger and he was especially 
 useful when there was need of sending a messenger 
 from one settlement to another on an important 
 mission, or when the officials had to hail before the 
 court a defiant person who refused to come, in which 
 case Chayim the Postman was sent to bring him by 
 force. Chayim the Postman was charged with all 
 the duties in the town which required the use of 
 force, and since his person alone was not endowed 
 with too much strength he provided himself with 
 arms. 
 
 Another passenger in the van was Reb Jonah 
 Eibeschutz, the lay-preacher of the town, who preached 
 a sermon every Sabbath afternoon, in which he pic- 
 tured in vivid colors Hell and all its burning pits, 
 as well as Heaven and all its circles. Reb Jonah was 
 as well posted on Hell, as familiar with all its lime- 
 kilns and boiling cauldrons, as if he were a resident 
 there. He had collected all his sermons into a book, 
 which he was taking to Lublin to lay before the 
 Assembly of the Four Countries and get permission 
 to publish it. At the same time, also, he expected 
 to obtain an endorsement of his book from one of 
 the celebrities, and in addition, at the fair, where so 
 many wealthy merchants were assembled, to look 
 
TO THE YESHIVAH a 
 
 around for a rich man who might wish to earn for 
 himself a portion of the World-to-Come by assuming 
 the expenses of publication. 
 
 At length there came out of the inn Mendel and 
 his son Shlomele. Old Marusha, who carried his 
 little trunk, expressed the wish in Yiddish that his 
 thirst for learning should be very great. His mother 
 and little wife stood before the door of the inn. 
 
 ““Why don’t you say good-bye to your wife, 
 Shlomele? A husband who goes away for such a 
 long time should say farewell to his wife,’’ said his 
 father. ! 
 
 Shlomele, dressed in the long coat which trailed at 
 his feet and a big yellow fur hat, approached Deborah 
 who stood near her mother-in-law, and with averted 
 eyes said: 
 
 ‘Good-bye, Deborah.” 
 
 The girl was silent. 
 
 “Say to your husband: ‘A pleasant journey to 
 you, and may you be eager for learning,’’’ her mother- 
 in-law coached her. 
 
 “‘A pleasant journey, and may you be eager for 
 learning,’’ the girl repeated. And for the first time 
 since their marriage the two children were ashamed 
 to look one another directly in the face. 
 
 Shlomele was ready to get into the van, but at the 
 last moment the mother was unable to restrain herself. 
 She seized her only son and covered him with tears 
 and kisses. 
 
 ““May God be your protector when I am not near 
 you!’ And after her came the Cossack servant. 
 
56 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 Only the little wife looked down earnestly at the 
 ground. 
 
 ‘“Vocheved,’’ Mendel reminded his wife, ‘‘God 
 has privileged you to send your son to the Yeshivah, 
 where there are great scholars and Geonim, and you 
 are weeping.” 
 
 “For God’s great kindness,’’ said the mother, 
 wiping her tears with her apron. 
 
 Shlomele brushed his mother’s kisses from his 
 cheek with his sleeve and jumped into the van. 
 
 “With the right foot first, on the right road, 
 Where lurks no evil spirit 
 But only the good, 
 And nothing but peace...”’ 
 was the wish his mother spoke after him. 
 
 
 
 Slowly the wagon passed through the drowsy 
 little town, and came out among the fields of the big 
 estates of the nobles. The sheaves of grain in the 
 fields were golden in the sunlight. The grass was 
 wet with the dew of the morning, and in the fresh 
 and transparent air little clouds of smoke mounted 
 from the straw-thatched roofs of the peasants and 
 imparted a homelike aspect to the entire landscape. 
 But the farther they travelled and the higher the 
 hot sun rose as the day advanced, the more scarce 
 became the cultivated fields, and the earth spread 
 out in every direction in endless expanse. 
 
 And Mendel’s van seemed lost in an uncharted 
 sea of tall, fragrant weeds studded with many-colored 
 flowers. As far as eye could reach nothing could be 
 
TO THE YESHIVAH BY) 
 
 seen but God’s green world. Here and there a clump 
 of young white willows stood out on a little hill, 
 weaving a delicate tracery with their long tender 
 branches, and behind the tracery stray white cloud- 
 lets were visible, moving like flocks of sheep across 
 the limitless sky. 
 
 Here and there the little trees threw their shadows 
 over the field, and the shadowed green portion stood 
 out in strong contrast on the sun-smitten field. 
 And elsewhere a clump of wild, red poppy heads 
 blazed in the light of the sun. Thus did the steppe 
 flaunt the light and colors of its many-hued flowers 
 and weeds for no one but itself alone and God, its 
 Creator. 
 
 The narrow path which led uphill from the city 
 and then into the valley was lost in the sea of green. 
 They were unable to make out whither the road led. 
 Then Hillel the driver gave his horses free rein to 
 enable them to scent out the river Uman. The horses 
 raised their heads several times, distended their 
 moist nostrils and sniffed the air loudly. Then their 
 necks sank deeper into their collars and with greater 
 speed they moved forward into the heart of the steppe. 
 
CHAPTER SEVEN 
 IN THE HEART OF THE STEPPE 
 
 A mysterious fear seized upon the hearts of our 
 travellers when the vehicle entered into the depths 
 of the steppe. They cast uneasy glances around them, 
 looking to see if a green Tatar cap would not suddenly 
 make its appearance among the grass or if the white 
 sheepskin cap of a Cossack would not peep out from 
 the bushes. The steppe, as far as Uman, was not 
 safe. Swimming across the Dnieper, Zaporozhian 
 Cossacks would come from the other side, and lie 
 in wait for Jewish merchants. Even the Tatars in 
 their light boats would come down the Dniester from 
 their country and hide in the grass of the steppe, 
 lying in wait for the Jewish travellers whom they 
 would capture and take to the slave markets of 
 Constantinople or Smyrna, where they knew that 
 the Turkish Jews would pay large ransoms for them. 
 Mendel’s heart was filled with apprehension, and 
 he looked hopefully and trustingly at his defender, 
 Chayim the Postman, who was sitting on the box 
 of the wagon. But the “Guardian of Israel” sat 
 curled up in the box, his nose buried in the forest 
 of hair of his mustaches, his eyes closed under their 
 beetling black brows, sleeping the sleep of the just. 
 
 But Mendel and his fellow-travellers were afraid 
 of the steppe without reason. Nothing was so peace- 
 
IN THE HEART OF THE STEPPE 59 
 
 ful as the steppe, nothing so peaceful as the play of 
 colors of its millions of weeds and flowers, nothing so 
 peaceful as the song of a million notes which it sang 
 in the glorious sunlight. The numerous varieties 
 of bees and other insects buzzed and swarmed among 
 the weeds, looking like a transparent, multi-colored 
 cloud of dust above the flowers. Living, winged 
 blossoms rose into the air,—the many-colored butter- 
 flies, which emerged from the flowers and glowed with 
 the same tints and hues. The day shone full upon the 
 steppe, and the sun warmed every blade of grass. 
 The steppe was redolent with fragrance. The sweet 
 smell of honey was distilled from the white flowers 
 and imbued every creature with sweet, drowsy de- 
 sireand longing. At times the tramping of the horses’ 
 feet awakened a sleeping flock of birds. From the 
 midst of the tall grasses swarms of blackbirds rose 
 up into the air and circled above the vehicle, waking 
 every sleeping creature in the weeds with their cries 
 and with the whirring of their wings. Then was the 
 whole steppe awake. It became alive with the language 
 of winged and creeping things, of things that 
 blossomed and sprouted. From every bush and tuft 
 of flowers variegated clouds of butterflies rose up, 
 awakened by the cries of the birds. And now 
 there was no telling which were the flowers and 
 which the insects. 
 
 Sometimes the wagon came upon a hidden brook. 
 They were surprised to see a little spring emerge 
 suddenly from among the weeds and over it a soli- 
 tary bird of prey in wait for some fish or insect which 
 
60 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 circled about on the rippled surface. The lonely 
 bird of prey was frightened by the hoofs of the horses 
 and rose up into the clouds, waking the steppe with 
 his screams of alarm. He was answered by invisible 
 creatures who were hidden somewhere in the depths 
 of the weeds, and they seemed to be relaying the bad 
 tidings one to another: Run, run! Man has come 
 to conquer the steppe! 
 
 But our travellers perceived nothing of all this. 
 They were occupied each with his own affairs. 
 Hillel the driver became a bit drowsy after having 
 eaten too well of the stuffed tripe which Yocheved 
 had given him for the journey and which had remained 
 over from the feast held in honor of the departing 
 Sabbath. The scent of honey penetrated the very 
 marrow. The mouth became dry and the odors of 
 the steppe rose to the head and made one drowsy. 
 And so, after the horses were no longer in need of 
 their guide, Hillel fell asleep. Nevertheless the horses 
 were aware of the waking nose of their master in- 
 stead of his sleeping eye. 
 
 His snoring infected the ‘Guardian of Israel’’, 
 Chayim the Postman. Just as Hillel was a great 
 glutton, so was Chayim a hard drinker. ‘‘He was 
 in no wise able to display his strength, of which the 
 community stood in such great need, except he did 
 first enkindle his anger by means of brandy.”’ (This 
 is officially recorded concerning him in the Chronicle 
 of Zlochov.) Being a prudent Jew with a wife 
 and several children, he could not otherwise ‘‘risk 
 his life’? and take up the ‘“‘destroyer’’, his gun, un- 
 
IN THE HEART OF THE STEPPE 61 
 
 less he had first taken several drinks. When sober, 
 he was afraid of a gun, of a horse and of a dog like 
 every other Jew, and when it was necessary to send 
 him on a mission across the steppe to the next town, or 
 to have him hail a refractory personage to the bar 
 of justice, or to have him punish someone with 
 flogging or chain someone in the little prison, he was 
 unable to discharge these duties unless he first filled 
 himself with drink. Before Mendel undertook the 
 journey to Lublin across the steppe, he first gave 
 him a good many draughts, and during the entire 
 trip Chayim maintained his warlike spirit and heroic 
 courage with the fiery stuff which inspired him with 
 the daring of a Polish Lord. And now, also, sitting 
 on the box, he flaunted his courage by keeping his 
 gun on his shoulder for no particular reason at all, 
 which inspired Mendel with a great fear lest the 
 “destroyer’’ go off of itself. But when Chayim 
 perceived that there was as yet no need of his courage, 
 since no brigands were to be seen, and that the war- 
 like mood which the spirits had aroused was going 
 to waste, he gave vent to his ferocity in his snoring. 
 The sounds issuing from his broad nostrils, which 
 gaped from his hairy face like two chimneys out 
 of a straw roof, were like the rattling of a cracked 
 hunting-horn. 
 
 The driver and the guard continued to sway on 
 the box of the wagon until they fell into one another’s 
 arms in an affectionate embrace. Their snoring 
 united into a discord which scared the hares out 
 of their hiding places. 
 
62 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 Mendel and Reb Jonah, however, talked enough 
 to make up for those who slept. After conquering 
 his fear of the Cossacks, Mendel began to look around 
 him and observe God’s world, and seeing how im- 
 mense and devoid of human beings it was, he conceived 
 the desire of planting Jewish settlements over the 
 entire steppe. What numbers of Jewish cities and 
 towns could be~ built on the steppe, and 
 synagogues, schools, ritual-baths and Yeshivahs! 
 And trade also: every month a different fair in a 
 different city. The fields are covered with crops, and 
 busy roads lead from one city to the other, and Jews 
 traverse the roads with loads of merchandise and 
 engage in trade. And the Torah is diffused over 
 all of Ukraine, for where there is bread there also 
 is Torah. And Mendel, himself, is a great merchant, 
 and a parnas over an entire settlement...He com- 
 municated his thoughts to Reb Jonah. | 
 
 “Very big is God’s world, Reb Jonah,” said Mendel 
 with a sigh. ‘“‘And the soil over which we are pass- 
 ing is good soil, Reb Jonah, black soil. You can 
 tell it by the weeds. Where we are passing, Reb 
 Jonah, there will some day be Jewish settlements. 
 Jewish towns will lie scattered over the whole land. 
 Jews will trade, will carry merchandise from one 
 city to another, will build Yeshivahs, and the Torah 
 will be spread broadcast.”’ 
 
 For a minute Reb Jonah was silent, pondering on 
 what Mendel had said. Then he replied: 
 
 “The soil here is good soil, the land is broad, ote 
 there is no one here to remember God’s Name, to 
 
IN THE HEART OF THE STEPPE 63 
 
 pronounce a Benediction, to say prayers, therefore 
 it is filled with demons and evil spirits. And do 
 you think, parnas, that those are ordinary birds which 
 follow our wagon, ordinary weeds or bees and insects? 
 Those are all souls, lost and roaming in the forests 
 and deserts, awaiting redemption. Seeing a wagon 
 with Jews, they follow us, trying to catch a word of 
 the Torah or a Benediction, so that they might 
 through us obtain redemption and have peace... 
 If it will please God that Jews come and settle here, 
 build synagogues and schools, pray and praise the 
 Lord, they will drive away the evil spirits. It will 
 become a clean place and a human settlement.”’ 
 “Do you think, Reb Jonah, that there will ever be 
 a settlement here with Jewish towns and synagogues?”’ 
 “Of course! How then? The place is specially 
 intended for Jews. When the Gentiles had greatly 
 oppressed the exiled Jews, and the Divine Presence 
 saw that there was no limit and no end to the oppres- 
 sion and that the handful of Jews might, God for- 
 bid, go under, the Presence came before the Lord 
 of the Universe to lay the grievance before Him, and 
 said to Him as follows: ‘How long is this going to 
 last? When You sent the dove out of the ark at the 
 time of the flood, You gave it an olive branch so 
 that it might have a support for its feet on the water, 
 and yet it was unable to bear the water of the flood 
 and returned to the ark; whereas my children You have 
 sent out of the ark into a flood, and have provided 
 nothing for a support where they may rest their 
 feet in their exile.’ Thereupon God took a piece 
 
64 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 of Eretz Yisroel, which he had hidden away in the 
 heavens at the time when the Temple was destroyed, 
 and sent it down upon the earth and said: ‘Be My 
 resting place for My children in their exile.’ That is 
 why it is called Poland (Polen), from the Hebrew poh 
 din, which means: ‘Here shalt thou lodge’ in the exile. 
 ‘That is why Satan has no power over us here, and 
 the Torah is spread broadcast over the whole country. 
 There are synagogues and schools and Yeshivahs, 
 God be thanked.”’ 
 
 ‘‘And what will happen in the great future when 
 the Messiah will come? What are we going to do 
 with the synagogues and the settlements which we 
 shall have built up in Poland?’’ asked Mendel as 
 he suddenly thought of Zlochov. 
 
 ‘‘How can you ask? In the great future, when 
 the Messiah will come, God will certainly transport 
 Poland with all its settlements, synagogues and 
 Yeshivahs to Eretz Yisroel. How else could it be?” 
 
 Mendel was completely satisfied, not only with 
 regard to his own Zlochov, but the whole of Poland, 
 whose destiny, after the coming of the Messiah, he 
 could never get clear in his mind. 
 
 And after Mendel had satisfied the hunger of his 
 spirit, his bodily hunger began to assert itself. 
 Hillel the driver with his wistful glances helped to 
 remind him of it, and the “Guardian of Israel’’ 
 scratched his head, his beard and his ear-locks all 
 the time that the lay-preacher was speaking. The 
 air of the steppe, moreover, stimulated the appetite. 
 
IN THE HEART OF THE STEPPE 65 
 
 And soon they found a brook, where they stopped 
 and washed their hands. 
 
 Yocheved’s large, dried cakes of cheese, black radishes 
 and strong spirits strengthened the body as did the 
 words of Reb Jonah the soul. And when body and 
 soul were satisfied, they all surrendered to the power 
 of sleep and left it to the horses to find their own way 
 to Uman. And the horses scented the forest of 
 Uman from the steppe, and when the sun began to 
 set and united sky and steppe in one fiery red flame, the 
 forest of Uman appeared like a black band on the 
 horizon, and, together with the quiet evening, they 
 passed through the gate of Uman. 
 
CHAPTER EIGHT 
 THE CONFERENCE OF PARNASIM 
 
 Several days later, Mendel’s wagon stopped be- 
 fore the inn of Boruch Shenker on the Jewish street 
 of Nemirov. Hillel found the entrance to the inn 
 blocked with covered vans and vehicles of all sorts. 
 
 ‘“Ho there! Make room for the parnas of Zlochov! 
 Move up there, you scab-head, the plagues of Egypt 
 on your head! Make room, make room, make room, 
 the parnas of Zlochov is coming! Did you hear?” 
 the driver shouted. 
 
 “Don’t shout so, servant of King Rags! The 
 plagues of Egypt and the curses of anathema in ad- 
 dition be laid out on your head. Reb Zechariah 
 Sobilenky, the parnas of Chihirin,—it is his van that 
 is standing here. Show respect!’’ they cried from 
 the other van. 
 
 On hearing whose van it was, Mendel ordered the 
 driver to stop, alighted from his van and approached 
 the other. 
 
 “Is Reb Zechariah here?’’ 
 
 “Yes. He came with his brother Reb Jacob, 
 and they are going to Lublin to the fair. They 
 have stopped at the house of the head of the Yeshivah, 
 Reb Yechiel Michel, and ordered us to stand here 
 with the van over night.” 
 
 Reb Zechariah, the parnas of Chihirin, rode with 
 
THE CONFERENCE OF PARNASIM 67 
 
 two braces of horses like the great lords, and his van 
 was very big and crammed with pillows and covers. 
 It blocked the whole entrance. Mendel ordered his 
 driver to pull up to one side, and take the horses 
 to the stable and feed them well. He then went 
 into the hotel, and the driver and guard soon fol- 
 lowed him with his parcels and pillows. Mendel 
 put on his new coat, dressed his son Shlomele in his 
 best clothes and went down to present himself to the 
 head of the Yeshivah, Reb Yechiel Michel the rabbi 
 of Nemirov. 
 
 In the audience room of Reb Yechiel Michel he 
 found the parnasim of Uman and Karsoon, the two 
 brothers, Reb Zechariah and Reb Jacob Sobilenky 
 of Chihirin, as well as the parnasim and prominent 
 residents of the city of Nemirov, who came to greet 
 the out-of-town parnasim. Reb Yechiel Michel was 
 not there. He was still in the yeshivah, where he 
 was expounding the portion of the Talmud _ before 
 the students. And the attendants in the meantime 
 placed before the parnasim, on behalf of the rabbi’s 
 mother, honey cakes and red brandy. 
 
 Reb Zechariah Sobilenky, the parnas of Chihirin, 
 sat with an air of importance on the wooden bench. 
 The Sobilenkys looked upon themselves as very 
 important personages, and this was especially true 
 of Reb Zechariah, who was held in high regard by 
 the magnate Konitz-Polski, the lord of Chihirin, 
 who was also lord of Zlochov, so that Mendel, too, 
 was under his jurisdiction. Mendel had great res- 
 pect for Zechariah as an older parnas. Mendel knew 
 
68 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 that he would not find it easy to be accepted among 
 the parnasim, and he was a little afraid. He looked 
 with deference at Reb Zechariah who sat with his 
 broad and long yellow beard spread out on his chest, 
 his eyes hidden under his beetling yellow brows, and 
 his sun-tanned face covered with freckles which 
 looked like islands in a large yellow sea. Reb Zecha- 
 riah paid no attention to him. He did not even 
 notice the new parnas of Zlochov. 
 
 ‘“Peace unto you, parnas of Zlochov’’, was the 
 greeting which Mendel received from Reb Sholom 
 Jacob, the chief parnas of Nemirov. 
 
 “Unto you peace,’’ was Mendel’s answer. 
 
 “What news from Zlochov? It is said that Zlochov 
 is growing into a populous city in Israel. It will 
 soon be as large as Chihirin,”’ said the parnas of 
 Nemirov with the intention of piquing the great 
 Zechariah. 
 
 “With the help of God, our settlement keeps on 
 growing. ”’ 
 
 Zechariah lifted his thick yellow eyebrows and looked 
 around. He understood the innuendo which Sholom 
 Jacob the parnas of Nemirov intended for him in 
 comparing the village of Zlochov to the community 
 of Chihirin, which was a large and populous settlement. 
 But it was not easy to ruffle the equanimity of Reb 
 Zechariah. He lifted his eyebrows only once, and 
 lowered them again. 
 
 Between the magnate of Chihirin, Lord Konitz- 
 Polski, and the magnate of Nemirov, Prince Vish- 
 newetzki, there was continuous rivalry for the su- 
 
THE CONFERENCE OF PARNASIM 69 
 
 zerainty of Ukrainia. Lord Konitz-Polski had 
 possession of the entire steppe which bordered on the 
 “Yellow River’’ as far as the Seich. Vishnewetzki, 
 however, bore the title of Prince of ‘‘Russ’”’. This 
 rivalry was not without its effect on the Jews of the 
 two magnates, but it affected especially the parnasim 
 of the two cities, who were the intermediaries for 
 the Jews with their respective lords. The parnasim 
 were so deeply involved in the rivalry of their masters 
 that it virtually became their own. They vaunted 
 the wealth and possessions of their respective lords, 
 and whenever the two parnasim met, the contest 
 flared up. 
 
 “What, after all, does Chihirin amount to? It 
 is a large community of Cossack peasants. With the 
 help of God Zlochov will surpass it.’? Reb Sholom 
 Jacob gave Zechariah another dig. 
 
 But this time Zechariah could not brook it. He, 
 who is held in such high esteem by his lord who 
 consults him in all his affairs, to be compared with 
 this Mendel of Zlochov! He lifted his eyebrows again 
 and turned to Mendel: 
 
 “Are you the Mendel of Zlochov who got per- 
 mission to build a synagogue? My Lord told me 
 about it. Sholom Aleichem,’’ and Zechariah extended 
 his hand from a distance without rising from his 
 place of honor on the wooden bench. ‘And who is 
 the young man?’ Zechariah asked, pointing to 
 Shlomele. 
 
 “This is my son, married, with God’s help, and 
 going to Lublin to the Yeshivah.”’ 
 
70 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 “To Lublin? Are there not enough yeshivahs 
 here in Podolya, in Kremenetz, in Lvov? And right 
 here in our own section there is Reb Yechiel Michel’s. 
 What? Has this young man of yours become so 
 great a scholar in Zlochov that you have not been 
 able to find a yeshivah for him in the whole of 
 Podolya, but you must take him all the way to Lub- 
 lin?”’ 
 
 “The Rabbi, his father-in-law, has given him 
 letters to the great Reb Naphtali Katz, the rabbi of 
 Lublin. The boy has a good head,’’ Mendel explained. 
 ‘“‘And, at the same time, we want him to learn secular 
 subjects also, to be able to figure well and to talk 
 with the officials, because Zlochov is growing, with 
 God’s help, and we shall need a Jewish representative 
 who is able to speak Polish.”’ 
 
 These words annoyed Zechariah even more. He 
 replied with heat: 
 
 “He could learn Polish from the peasants in 
 Zlochov.”’ 
 
 Mendel remained silent out of respect for an old 
 parnas. But that was too much for Reb Sholom 
 Jacob. 
 
 “What! Does the parnas of Chihirin think that 
 he alone obtained permission from the Assembly 
 to be a Jewish representative? You are doing well, 
 Reb Mendel, in sending your young man to Lublin,” 
 Reb Sholom Jacob reassured Mendel. ‘‘We need 
 to have in our parts honest parnasim, such as work 
 in communal affairs with sincerity of heart, not like 
 certain ones who remove the pearls from the Ark- 
 
THE CONFERENCE OF PARNASIM 71 
 
 curtains and stud them into honey cakes as gifts for 
 magnates in order to find favor in their eyes.”’ 
 
 ‘““My brother did not take the pearls for himself, 
 God forbid!’ Reb Jacob Sobilenky defended his 
 brother. ‘The parnas of Chihirin took the pearls 
 from Jewish matrons of that city and made of them 
 a precious gift for the Magnate Konitz-Polski, may 
 his glory be exalted, by whose grace we all live in 
 peace and security, on the occasion of his marriage 
 with the rich Countess Zamoyski.”’ 
 
 “Naturally, when a pauper married a Zamoyski 
 he must have recourse to the Jews of his cities for 
 his wedding expenses. Who is he anyway? A 
 Vishnewetzki? The Vishnewetzkis don’t need to 
 depend on Jewish pearls when they get married.” 
 
 An offense against himself Reb Zechariah was able 
 to ignore, but the insult against his lord he could not 
 tolerate. 
 
 “Parnas of Nemirov, you are playing with fire. 
 You are insulting my noble lord.” 
 
 “And if so, what of it? I am not afraid of your 
 lord. Will you have me put into prison perhaps as 
 you did Captain Chmelnitzki? We are living here, 
 God be praised, under Prince Vishnewetzki who is 
 a merciful ruler, so I have no fear whatever of your 
 master, parnas of Chihirin.” 
 
 Who knows how this quarrel would have ended if 
 the attendant had not suddenly opened the door and 
 announced: ‘‘Reb Yechiel Michel is on his way!” 
 
 All rose from their places and Reb Yechiel Michel 
 entered. The rabbi was still a young man, but he 
 
72 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 was already famed throughout Podolya and Volhynia 
 as the Gaon of Ukrainia. He enjoyed the respect 
 of allmen. The rabbi first stepped into another room 
 and conducted thence his old mother, whom he seated 
 in the place of honor in an armchair near the table. 
 He then sat down on a smaller chair near her and in- 
 troduced to her the parnasim and notables, and 
 all the time waited on his mother with the greatest 
 deference and respect. 
 
 The rabbi questioned the parnasim on conditions 
 in their respective regions, how the settlements were 
 growing, and how matters stood with the study of 
 the Torah. On hearing that Mendel was taking his 
 son to the Yeshivah in Lublin he rejoiced greatly 
 that Zlochov was already privileged to send a student 
 to that great yeshivah. He put some questions 
 to Shlomele on his studies, which Shlomele answered 
 promptly to the great satisfaction of the rabbi, who 
 ordered the attendant to give him some honey cakes; 
 and Mendel wiped from his eyes the tears of joy. 
 
 “Your reverend teacher writes me to send him some 
 young men from my yeshivah to Zlochov to instruct 
 the children. The people of the town will give them 
 food and lodgings. Praised be the Lord of the Uni- 
 verse, the study of the Torah increases wherever 
 Jews live, even in the wild steppe,’’ he said, turning 
 to his mother. 
 
 The old woman inclined her high festive headdress 
 of white lace which she had put on in honor of the 
 parnasim, and she whispered to her son: 
 
THE CONFERENCE OF PARNASIM 73 
 
 ““My son, offer the parnasim some brandy and cakes, 
 to do them honor.” 
 
 The rabbi rose to carry out his mother’s command, 
 and poured some brandy for the parnasim. 
 
 “And on what terms do you live with your 
 neighbors? Is there peace between you? Your life is 
 so exposed, living as you do in the open plain.”’ 
 
 “To the best of our ability we strive to live in 
 peace. The Polish magnates are absent throughout 
 the year, and our only neighbors are the Russians; 
 and since they are neighbors, we strive to live in 
 peace with them. Very often they do not pay the 
 church tax which the Polish priests have imposed upon 
 them. They look upon it as an insult to their dignity, 
 and so we do not exact it from them, but, instead, we 
 collect the tax from among ourselves and pay it for 
 them. But the Polish priests, becoming aware of 
 this, took us severely to task. They compel us to exact 
 the tax, and therein lies a great danger for us. We 
 are afraid lest the Russians, God forbid, do ussome evil. 
 And that is what I have come to say to the rabbi of 
 Nemirov. It would be very advisable that the 
 parnasim of Ukrainia, together with the rabbis, 
 should obtain from the Council in Lublin assurance 
 that the Great Assembly will take up the matter 
 and have the church tax on the Russians abolished, 
 or else that Jews should not be forced to collect it, 
 for that is liable to bring, God forbid, a great mis- 
 fortune upon us. We live right near the steppe, and 
 we hear it said that the Russians will one day avenge 
 themselves upon us.”’ 
 
74 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 The rabbi sighed and remained silent. 
 
 “T too, wish to speak on this matter,’’ said Reb 
 Sholom Jacob, the parnas of Nemirov. ‘The parnas 
 of Chihirin, Reb Zechariah Sobilenky, is sitting here. 
 The parnas of Zlochov, Reb Mendel, is afraid to 
 speak out because he, together with the parnas of 
 Chihirin, is subject to Konitz-Polski. But we here, 
 God be praised, are under Prince Vishnewetzki, who 
 is a merciful ruler to all. Weare not afraid. And I 
 desire to say here in the presence of the rabbi of 
 Nemirov that it has reached our ears that the 
 parnas of Chihirin, Reb Zechariah, oppresses very 
 grievously the Jews and also the Russians. He im- 
 poses upon them very heavy taxes for gifts for his 
 master. He has lodged information before his lord 
 against one of their captains by the name of Chmel- 
 nitzki, saying that the aforesaid captain is planning 
 to rebel, with the result that the captain has been 
 thrown into prison. And because of that, the Russians 
 are greatly incensed against the Jews, and a mis- 
 fortune may come of it for the Jewish community 
 at large.” 
 
 During all the time that Reb Sholom Jacob brought 
 the accusation against him, Reb Zechariah sat before 
 the rabbi, proud and silent. With two of his fingers 
 he combed his long, yellow beard, and kept lifting 
 his thick yellow eyebrows, which were like two open 
 fans on the ridge of his forehead above his eyes. 
 From time to time he cast a glance from beneath them 
 upon his opponent, and maintained his silence. 
 
 “Rabbi of Nemirov,”’ Reb Zechariah began, ‘I 
 
THE CONFERENCE OF PARNASIM 75 
 
 am not, God forbid, taking the taxes for myself. We 
 Jews live only by the grace of the magnates, who 
 protect us in their mercy from all evils, and grant us 
 the privilege of building synagogues and establishing 
 settlements, and we live with our families in peace and 
 tranquillity as in no other land. Wherefore, we must 
 be loyal to the Polish lords who rule over us with 
 great mercy, and to the great and mighty King 
 Vladislav, may his glory be exalted, who has renewed 
 the privileges which the former Polish kings had 
 granted us, and added new ones. We must be sub- 
 missive and serve them faithfully, because, but for 
 them, we might be like the Russian peasants, may 
 God shield us! And when they order us to collect 
 taxes from the Cossack peasants for the churches, we 
 must carry out their decrees, because the peasants 
 belong to the Polish lords for all time. And who is 
 this Chmelnitzki about whom the parnas of Nemirov 
 has raised such an outcry? He comes into my inn, 
 and I hear him whisper with the peasants about 
 writing a letter to the Khan of the Tatars and ask 
 him to come and help the peasants free themselves 
 from the Polish lords. He thinks I hear nothing, and 
 I sit behind the table and pretend not to hear, but 
 with a piece of chalk I make note of all the things 
 that he says. Of course, it is my duty to deliver 
 the captain into the hands of the authorities. My 
 lord, may his glory be exalted, gave me permission, in 
 case I hear such seditious talk from the Captain 
 Chmelnitzki, to have him flogged before the door of 
 my inn.” 
 
76 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 Reb Yechiel Michel remained absorbed in deep 
 thought, then he turned to his mother and, bowing 
 before her, spoke as follows: 
 
 “With my mother’s permission, I will answer 
 the parnas of Chihirin as follows: It is true that 
 we live by the grace of the Polish lords and King 
 Vladislav, may his glory be exalted, who has renewed 
 the privileges of the Polish kings, peace unto them. 
 But we do not live by their power but by the power 
 of the Lord of the Universe and of the Holy Torah. 
 And it is not they who are shielding us, but the Lord 
 of the Universe in His great mercy. Our holy books 
 enjoin us to live in peace with our neighbors and, above 
 all, with such neighbors as are tormented and perse- 
 cuted by their oppressors and whose faith is being 
 humiliated. Their faith is not idol-worship. They 
 believe in the only living God, and it is an act of piety 
 to assist them so that they may be able to serve God 
 according to their ways. We Jews should feel and 
 realize what it means to be persecuted for one’s 
 faith. Therefore, I am much pleased with the good 
 advice of the parnas of Zlochov that the Great As- 
 sembly shall seek to do something in the matter, that 
 the representatives shall secure the abolition of the 
 church tax, and, if that cannot be obtained, then 
 we Jews shall not haveanything todowithit. Parnas 
 of Zlochov, I will, please God, give you a letter on 
 this subject to take to the rabbi of Lublin.” 
 
 At this point the attendant was heard knocking on 
 the panels of the door witha wooden hammer. There- 
 upon the rabbi said: 
 
 Sa 
 
THE CONFERENCE OF PARNASIM 77 
 
 “My friends, it is time for afternoon prayers,’ 
 and, turning to his mother, he said, ‘‘With your 
 permission, mother, we will rise.”’ 
 
 “Yechiel Michel, after prayers you will invite the 
 parnasim to have supper with us,’’ his mother said, 
 and rose from her place. And the son, with great 
 reverence, conducted her to the threshhold of the 
 next room. 
 
CHAPTER NINE 
 THE PREACHER OF POLNO 
 
 A holy peace and purity lay upon the hills around 
 the city of Nemirov, as the Jewish vans laden with 
 bedding and passengers rolled joyously over the yellow 
 sandy road. The night damp still lay heavy on 
 the fields and on the road which led to the River 
 Bug, but by the time they reached the other bank, 
 the clear blue sky was already suffused with the light 
 of the bright, newly-risen sun, which drank the dew 
 from the grass and from the leaves of the tall sassa- 
 fras trees that flanked the road. The golden yellow 
 fields had already been reaped and harvested, and 
 here and there a drab-gray linen peasant shirt was 
 to be seen, or the flaming colors of a kerchief on the 
 head of a peasant woman at work in the early morning. 
 Fat sheep, overgrown with black wool, rolled like 
 black balls on the broad fields and grazed at the hard 
 stubble of the grain. They stopped munching and 
 looked naively after the passing vans with their 
 blank-staring eyes and called after them their quaver- 
 ing, child-like “‘ba-aa’”’. From time to time the 
 travellers came upon a sorrowful beggar sitting 
 alone on a stone by the roadside twanging on a small 
 home-made “‘lyre’’ and mumbling some song. Soon 
 the cloud of dust which the vans left behind them 
 covered the beggar, but his song affected the Jewish . 
 
THE PREACHER OF POLNO 79 
 
 travellers, and over God’s joyous world there rang 
 out melodies from the Jewish Liturgy: 
 
 “Come my beloved, come my beloved, 
 
 Come my beloved, to meet the Bride, 
 
 To meet the Sabbath Bride.’’ 
 
 
 
 Our travellers no longer rodealone. Aswas natural, 
 the first in the procession was the big van of Reb 
 Zechariah with its two braces of horses, and it raised 
 high clouds of dust in front and behind. Then came 
 the other vans. Men of learning from the different 
 towns sat in the vans. Some were going to the As- 
 sembly to obtain answers to questions of ritual, others 
 to get permission to publish books of which they were 
 the authors. Many of the scholars and men of 
 learning assembled in one van. They sat at ease 
 amid the pillows and sheets and engaged in scholarly 
 disputation. One would clutch the beard of another 
 or grasp the lapels of his coat, forcing him to listen 
 to his involved interpretation, whereupon his oppo- 
 nent would stubbornly close his eyes and stick to 
 the negative, refusing to yield one iota. And the 
 loud disputes over the Torah re-echoed from the 
 vans, waking the sleeping hares of the fields, who ran 
 panic-stricken from the noise of the disputants. 
 
 Through the long winters the Jews of Podolya 
 manufacture out of leather the uppers for boots as 
 well as the soles, and take them to the annual fair 
 in Lublin. The makers of sheepskin coats bring 
 wagon-loads of these garments. The makers of 
 
80 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 fur caps bring their wares, the potters bring their 
 vessels. | Some of the vehicles are filled with house- 
 hold utensils, others with prayer-shawls, four-fringed 
 garments, and the fringes themselves. The products 
 of the entire year are taken to the autumn fair, when 
 the noble proprietors, having gathered peasants’ 
 crops into their barns, go to the fair to buy supplies 
 for the winter. The Jewish merchants run from one 
 van to another, strike bargains, exchange money, buy 
 up bales of flax, sacks of wool, calf-skins and spirits 
 as on a stock exchange. And marriage brokers speed 
 from one van to another and arrange matches and 
 betrothals of brides and bridegrooms who have never 
 seen each other, and the parents shake hands and 
 stop in the inns to drink each other’s health. And 
 the drivers attempt to get ahead of each other, and 
 snatches of prayers from the holiday and Sabbath 
 services are lost amid the cracking of whips and the 
 clouds of dust. 
 
 Prayer services were conducted in the fields near 
 the brooks, among the tall trees. For the first 
 time those bare fields heard the sanctifications, and 
 the birds flocked to pick up the crumbs which remained 
 after the meals. 
 
 For the night they stopped in Bar. There was a 
 large Jewish community in that city, it was a gather- 
 ing station for travellers from Vinitza, from Staro- 
 grad, from Karsoon and other points. There they 
 found more Jews, more scholars and merchants. 
 And into Constantinov there already entered a 
 caravan of vehicles laden with colored pillows and 
 
THE PREACHER OF POLNO 81 
 
 sheets in the midst of which sat Jews at great ease. 
 On the way all the synagogue melodies had been 
 sung, the whole Torah had been disputed over, and 
 half the country bought and sold. The settlements 
 were now more numerous, the land populated, the 
 towns with Jews and the villages with peasants. 
 On every road they come upon a Jewish innkeeper 
 where a halt is made to water the horses and to pro- 
 nounce a benediction. In front of the inns stand the 
 Jewish innkeepers in their colored trousers and broad 
 four-fringed garments, and invite the scholars into 
 their homes. They are eager for the privilege of 
 having a minyan for afternoon prayers beneath their 
 roof, and to see the men of learning drink each other’s 
 health. 
 
 And the innkeeper’s wife hauls from the cellar 
 great pots of buttermilk and cream and fried onions. 
 At the same time, the innkeeper’s children are ex- 
 amined, and the housewife is solemnly warned to be 
 careful to observe all the religious rites. And marriage 
 brokers make inquiries concerning brides and dowries, 
 and they all drink out of the same flask, eat together, 
 and take seats on each other’s pillows as if the entire 
 Jewish people had become one big family. 
 
 But soon they reached the big forest of Vishnewetz. 
 The vehicles keep closer to each other, and the guards 
 take out their “‘destroyers’’, of which the people are 
 afraid. Far out in the woods among the dry leaves 
 there is a rustling sound, and the travellers hold their 
 breath and ask each other: ‘“‘Did you hear that?’ 
 
 And Jews tell each other stories of demons and 
 
82 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 spirits who dwell in the woods, and throw a great 
 dread upon the young lads who are travelling to the 
 yeshivahs. And the forest becomes more and more 
 dense and dark and mysterious. The ancient trees 
 murmur as though surprised and afraid of the Jewish 
 vans which have entered their midst and awakened 
 them from their mysterious, age-long slumber. The 
 sleeping beasts of the forest are frightened by the hoofs 
 of the horses. In the distance can be heard their 
 roaring and the sound of their heavy feet among 
 the dry leaves. The Kabbalists among the travellers 
 listen intently to the steps in the forest and whisper 
 mysterious prayers. Fathers hang charms around 
 the necks of their children and place prayer books 
 in their hands. The Jews take hold of the sacred 
 fringes of their garments to rout the evil spirits that 
 hover around the vehicles. And the vans break 
 through the virgin forest, filled with the odor of resin, 
 which exudes from the trees, and with the damp odor 
 of mushrooms. Someone is felling trees in the forest, 
 someone is shouting and calling for help in the forest, 
 and the Kabbalists stop their ears so as not to hear 
 the evil spirits calling. The old Jews sing Psalms 
 and the children fall asleep in the midst of their 
 terror. 
 
 They stopped in Polno for the Sabbath, anxious 
 to hear Reb Simeon Ostropolier preach. For years 
 this preacher had warned of impending calamities. 
 He frightened his audience so with his sermons that the 
 Assembly issued an injunction ordering him not to 
 alarm the people. The sermons of the Ostropolier 
 
THE PREACHER OF POLNO 83 
 
 were famed throughout the world. On the Sabbath 
 afternoon Mendel took Shlomele with him and went 
 to the synagogue where Reb Simeon preached. 
 The synagogue already overflowed with Jews from 
 the entire neighborhood. Whoever travelled to the 
 annual fair stopped for the Sabbath in Polno in order 
 to hear Reb Simeon. The walls of the synagogue 
 were damp with the warm breath of the dense multi- 
 tude. And on the elevation before the holy Ark 
 stands Reb Simeon, dressed in a long white robe with 
 a long prayer shawl draped about his tall emaciated 
 body, his two black eyes flashing out of his pale face. 
 It is full of fatigue, this pallid face of his, framed in 
 his black beard; and, all atremble, he stretches his 
 bony hands out of the sleeves of his white robe 
 and emits a flood of fiery language, as he pictures 
 to the vast throng the flames of Hell. 
 
 He leads them through all the seven circles of 
 Hell. He shows how the angels of destruction snatch 
 the human being as soon as he closes his eyes in death 
 and carry him off to waste deserts, hurl him into 
 swamps among serpents and scorpions; and the next 
 minute they lead the victim away and leave him to 
 float in a sea of fire with other unfortunates. And 
 now he pictures before the frightened multitude 
 the boiling cauldrons which are placed over the fires 
 of Hell. Limbs of human beings float about in the 
 seething cauldrons. And now he restores his victim 
 to life so as to be able to torture him anew, to pull 
 the hair out of his head with iron tongs, to rake his 
 skin with iron combs and draw out his nails with red 
 
84 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 hot pincers. Then he brings his victim back into 
 the world in the shape of a horse who toils all his 
 life for one whom he had wronged in his former life, 
 or he has his victim transformed into a wailing dog 
 who prowls about in waste deserts unable to find a 
 human settlement. A panic seizes upon the people. 
 Hot beads of perspiration appear on their faces. From 
 the women’s synagogue a stifled sobbing is heard. 
 
 And the white-robed preacher continues to stand 
 over the vast throng, his bony hands outstretched, 
 uttering fearful threats, pouring the flames of Hell 
 over the heads of the Jews. Ks finds no one blame- 
 less enough to be immune from the pangs of Hell. 
 He transforms them all into new shapes, wringing 
 them back to earth in the form of cattle and other 
 animals, which yearn for a final resting-place. 
 
 Now, however, he begins to prophesy concerning 
 a terrible day of reckoning which is about to come 
 upon the Jews. He cites one Bible verse after an- 
 other which points to the time, the time of the wars 
 of Gog and Magog, which are about to break out. 
 In vivid colors he pictures a great war, a 
 merciless enemy falling upon the land like a swarm 
 of locusts and with fire and sword destroying every- 
 thing in his path. There is nothing that is able to 
 restrain him, no prayer, no supplication, no tears. 
 He moves like a conflagration from city to city, 
 from province to province, and consumes everything 
 with his fiery tongue, even as the ox doth consume 
 the grass. No one knows what the preacher is re- 
 ferring to. A dread fear, as when a dark cloud 
 
THE PREACHER OF POLNO 85 
 
 suddenly covers the sky, falls upon the Jews. A 
 shudder passes through them when he pictures God’s 
 wrath. One thing alone can hold up the dreadful 
 decree: ‘‘Penitence, Prayer and Good Deeds.” 
 But now he shuts the Gate of Mercy, locks its iron 
 doors, and stations in front of the Gate of Mercy 
 fiery swords and fiery beasts to drive off the prayers 
 of Jews which are knocking at the Gate. It is too 
 late now, the awful decree has been signed, and he 
 vouchsafes not a single ray of hope. There is nothing 
 but darkness, darkness and darkness... 
 
CHAPTER TEN 
 THE ANNUAL LUBLIN FAIR 
 
 After a journey of two weeks Hillel, with the “‘Guar- 
 dian of Israel’’ on the box, rode through the Cracow 
 gate into the famous city of Lublin. The spires and 
 towers of its churches and castles had beckoned to 
 them from a distance. From far away, Mendel had 
 pointed out to Shlomele the spire of the synagogue 
 of the famous scholar Rama. The annual fair was 
 already in full swing. With much difficulty the 
 driver steered his way through the multitude of 
 Pans’ coaches which stood on every hand. Hillel 
 turned to a side road and came to the Jewish streets 
 where the fair was at its height. Here lay heaps of 
 fur coats, there hung rows of boots from wooden 
 bars. There were stands heaped high with woolen 
 cloth. Polish kerchiefs, vividly colored, blazed in 
 the sun-light on the heads of the Jewish women 
 standing at the booths and selling the wares: hues of 
 golden yellow on a field of ivory. And a Babel of 
 shouts and languages was borne on the air: German 
 master craftsmen from Nuremberg were selling vessels 
 of silver and brass, and even Persians came down with 
 their Oriental fabrics of many colors: colors of amber 
 and colors of tvory; hues of molten copper and trans- 
 parent azure as of the sky; the deep blue of the night 
 and the whiteness of snow; and shy colors as of the 
 
FHE ANNUAL LUBLIN FAIR 87 
 
 foam, and the chaste hues of pearls beside the deep 
 glow of red beads—all these were merged into one 
 burning sea of fabrics, robes and carpets. 
 
 The colors moved as at a ball of masqueraders. 
 The heads of the generals and chamberlains, of the 
 hussars and ensigns blazed with tufts of many- 
 colored feathers. Here and there the flash of a 
 precious stone flared down from the turban on a 
 Tatar’s head nodding above the sea of heads and 
 beckoning from afar. 
 
 Mendel was frightened by the great multitudes, 
 and so was Shlomele, and even the ‘‘Guardian of 
 Israel’’, Chayim the Postman, was frightened. Only 
 Hillel the driver was not afraid. Huddled in the box, 
 he held the horses firmly, picking his way among the 
 stands, the people and the wagons. He paid no at- 
 tention to anything, refused to be concerned with 
 anything. He was engrossed in the work of steering 
 the horses, for the road was indeed a difficult one. 
 
 No easy matter did Mendel find it to secure a 
 lodging. Lublin was filled with Jews. From every 
 corner of Poland Jews came to Lublin to sell or buy 
 at the fair. From the farthest regions came rabbis 
 and parnasim with ritual questions and law-suits 
 for the ‘Assembly of the Four Countries’’, one 
 kehillah suing another and bringing its claims before 
 the rabbis. Each rabbi came with his disciples. 
 Students of the kabbalah in long white coats came 
 with the rabbi of Posen, Reb Sheftel Hurwitz, who 
 was a great student of the kabbalah. Keen minds, 
 great scholars, accompanied the rabbi of Lvov, 
 
88 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 later the author of the ‘‘Taz,’’ who was a member of 
 the Assembly. There were foreign Jews; Jews from 
 Germany in large velvet hats; Jews from Prague in 
 broad, black, silken cloaks; Italian Jews, whom it was 
 difficult to recognize as Jews, dressed as they were in 
 short, colored cloaks, like the Italians, with swords at 
 the side. Many of them came to trade or to study 
 at the yeshivah. Famed far and wide were the 
 yeshivahs of Poland, even as formerly the yeshivahs 
 of Babylon, and from all over the world Jews sent 
 their sons to study in the Polish yeshivahs. There 
 came many young men from different lands and pro- 
 vinces to obtain from this or the other great rabbi 
 who might attend the Assembly, certificates of or- 
 dination for the rabbinate. Authors came with their 
 books, seeking endorsements from the rabbis, and still 
 others sought permission to practice ritual slaughtering 
 or some other communal function. 
 
 And all these people wandered about in the little 
 Synagogue street where the rabbi dwelt, where the 
 great yeshivah was located and where the Assembly 
 was in session. In that street the Jewish fair was in 
 progress. On every hand were stands of Hebrew 
 books. There the marriage brokers had their head- 
 quarters, and to them came fathers who were anxious 
 to secure learned scholars as sons-in-law and made 
 their choice from among the students of the yeshivah 
 according to the dowry which they were able to offer. 
 There, also, various kabbalah specialists, followers 
 of Baal Shem Tob, had their booths where they sold 
 amulets against evil spirits and demons, and inscrip- 
 
THE ANNUAL LUBLIN FAIR 89 
 
 tions to hang on the wall against Lilith. Pious women 
 in booths of their own sold special books of prayers 
 for women, charms for women in labor, deer’s-teeth, 
 roots for sucklings, little waxen hands and feet, and 
 remedies for the toothache and for exorcizing the 
 evil eye. In other booths sat scribes writing bills-of- 
 sale for merchants, notes and receipts for loans. 
 Young men drew artistic designs in colors for betrothal 
 contracts, marriage contracts and Megillahs. This 
 was an exclusive monopoly held by the students of 
 the yeshivah, the money going into a common fund 
 owned by the students. Goldsmiths sold precious 
 ritual vessels, hammered kiddush-cups, lime-boxes 
 and spice-rods, also Chanukkah-lamps which made 
 music of themselves. The principal traffic, however, 
 was in books. The printers of Lublin, who were 
 authorized to print books uncensored, were celebrated 
 throughout the world, and Jews from all over the 
 world came to Lublin to buy Jewish books. On 
 long tables in the synagogues and book-stalls the 
 volumes were on display, especially the famous Lublin 
 edition of the Talmud. The vendors of prayer- 
 shawls had their stands there, displaying their woolen 
 prayer-shawls and immense fringes. The gold and 
 silver neck-bands of the prayer-shawls flashed on the 
 stands. Further on, in the little street near the en- 
 trance to the bath-house, the Jewish physicians had 
 their booths where they let bad blood, wrote pre- 
 scriptions and extracted teeth. There, also, the 
 female attendants of the ritual bath sold secret recipes 
 to childless women for having children, as well as 
 
90 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 “indications”? for giving birth to male children and 
 “indications”? for female children; also spices and 
 herbs for winning the heart of a husband...And 
 Jews from all over Poland who, all year round, lived 
 like exiles in their inns, laid in stocks of Judaism to 
 last them throughout the winter. And among the 
 merchants went about the pious women who had 
 taken upon themselves the sacred duty of supplying 
 the students of the yeshivah with lodgings and other 
 necessities. They carried large tin boxes sealed with 
 the official seal of the yeshivah and cried: “‘ Lodgings 
 for the young men! Shirts, boots for the students of 
 the Torah!” 
 
 After Mendel had given his son into the yeshivah, 
 he presented himself before the Assembly to bring 
 before them the matter of the church-tax which the 
 Polish nobility forced the Jewish inn-keepers to collect 
 from the Cossack peasants. With the letter which 
 the rabbi of Nemirov had given him to the author of 
 the Taz, he was admitted before the Assembly, which 
 was in session in the big hall of the Lublin community 
 house. The presiding officer was Reb Naphtali 
 Katz of distinguished ancestry, a grandson of the 
 rabbi of Lublin, himself of proud descent, and, on his 
 mother’s side, a grandson of the Gaon of Prague. 
 In the Assembly sat great rabbis from Posen, Lvov, 
 and Cracow, and Jewish official representatives and 
 parnasim like Reb Abraham, the parnas of the Lublin 
 community, and Reb Moses Muntaltis, who was 
 descended from the Spanish exiles and very highly 
 regarded in the royal court. Thirty famous rabbis 
 
THE ANNUAL LUBLIN FAIR 91 
 
 and parnasim sat around the table. Before them 
 Mendel presented his petition that the official rep- 
 resentatives obtain the abrogation of the decree 
 compelling the Jewish inn-keepers to collect the Church 
 tax from the Cossacks, as otherwise a terrible calamity 
 might come upon the Jews. The Assembly listened 
 to Mendel, and the rabbi of Lublin said the proposal 
 was a wise one. But the Assembly had also invited 
 Zechariah Sobilenky, because he was a parnas from 
 the same region and an important representative. 
 
 Reb Zechariah said there was danger that the 
 proposal would provoke the wrath of the priests and 
 the Jesuits. They will say that the Jews dissuade 
 the peasants from becoming Catholics, and a great 
 calamity may befall the Jews in consequence. And 
 as soon as the Assembly heard mention of the word 
 priests, a great dread fell upon all the famous rabbis 
 and parnasim. Reb Sheftel Hurwitz, the rabbi of 
 Posen, began to groan. He remembered the blood 
 accusation of two years before in his district of 
 Lenchitz and the martyrs which the priests had tor- 
 tured to death. His pallid face took on a dark hue, 
 his eyes withdrew underneath his forehead, and he 
 sighed: 
 
 “A time of trouble is drawing nigh for Jacob.”’ 
 
 And the parnasim replied that from the secular 
 government they could obtain everything, but they 
 were afraid to do anything touching the priests and 
 the Church, because a great public calamity might 
 result. 
 
 Thus they disposed of Mendel with a sigh and a 
 
92 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 groan and sent him away to seek help from the Al- 
 mighty. And thereupon Mendel set out for home. 
 
 And when he was already seated in his van together 
 with Chayim the ‘‘Guardian of Israel’, and Hillel 
 the driver, he saw among the booths and stalls 
 of the little Synagogue street the devout little tailor, 
 Shlomele’s first teacher, standing on the threshhold 
 of a stall and crying for buyers. And he descended 
 from his van and entered the stall in order to buy 
 something, but he saw that the stall was empty, it 
 had nothing but four blank walls, and he asked 
 the little tailor: 
 
 “What have you to sell here? Are you not here in 
 an empty stall?”’ 
 
 And the little tailor answered: 
 
 “‘T sell: Penitence, Prayers and Good Deeds!” 
 

 

 
CHAPTER ONE 
 “It Has Becun”’ 
 
 For six years Shlomele attended the yeshivah 
 
 of Lublin, preparing himself for the position which 
 he was to occupy in life, the position of parnas of a 
 Jewish community. He studied with the head of 
 the yeshivah, the rabbi of Lublin, and, together with 
 other young men, he had his lodging in the inn of 
 Mistress Sarah Jaffe, who owned a large book printing 
 establishment in the city. On Sabbaths and holidays 
 he ate at her board where he learned good manners 
 and customs, for she was a woman of high standing 
 and, moreover, of princely generosity. 
 _ From home his mother used to send him, with the 
 merchants who travelled to the annual fair, cakes of 
 dried cheese or a jar of honey, and his father a pair 
 of new boots, a sheepskin coat for the winter and a 
 letter with greeting from ‘‘your wife,’’ which began 
 to awaken strange emotions in his heart and bring a 
 flush to his cheeks. 
 
 At the end of six years, when Shlomele had com- 
 pleted the rabbinical course, and Mistress Deborah 
 had grown to young womanhood, the parents of the 
 couple met together and decided that, whereas it 
 is not a good thing for a husband and wife to be 
 separated, Shlomele should be brought home from 
 the yeshivah. 
 
96 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 Mendel travelled to Lublin to attend the fair, and 
 to take home his son. The father did not recognize 
 him. During those years Shlomele had matured, 
 looking like a young rabbi with fur hat and ear-locks, 
 and his father began to stand a little in awe of him. 
 Shlomele inquired after everybody, after his mother 
 and even after the servant Marusha, but not after 
 his wife. 
 
 ‘‘And why do you not inquire after your wife?’ 
 his father smiled. 
 
 Shlomele flushed crimson. 
 
 ‘“‘She has grown into a young woman, and beauti- 
 ful, beshrew the evil eye, you will not recognize 
 her. She is living with her parents.”’ 
 
 “Why not with mother?” asked Shlomele. 
 
 ‘She is afraid of you, afraid that when you come 
 home you will pull at her head-dress as you used to 
 do when you were a child.”’ 
 
 Shlomele was silent. Mendel was sorry for having 
 embarrassed him. 
 
 “Tt is the custom, prior to the holidays and before 
 the husband comes home, for the wife to stay with 
 her parents. When, with the help of God, you will 
 come home, she will come to live with us.”’ 
 
 Shlomele would have liked to change the subject, 
 but his father said: 
 
 ‘‘Here is some money, and buy something to take 
 home for your wife as a holiday gift.” 
 
 Shlomo took the money from his father to buy 
 something for his wife. He went out to the fair, and 
 came upon a Jew standing and calling: 
 
“IT. HAS BEGUN” 97 
 
 “Golden slippers from Warsaw, holiday gifts for 
 virtuous wives!”’ 
 
 Shlomo remembered the golden slippers which he 
 had promised his wife before he left for the yeshivah. 
 
 He paid the merchant for the slippers, and the Jew 
 pronounced the following wish: 
 
 “God grant that the righteous one who will wear 
 these slippers may be privileged to wear them in 
 holiness and purity.’’ 
 
 He gazed upon the Jew. The latter seemed familiar 
 to him, as though he had seen him somewhere before. 
 
 Afterwards Shlomo remembered that the Jew was 
 the little tailor, and the thing appeared to him strange. 
 
 
 
 It was in the year 5408 (C. E. 1647), just before 
 the festival of Purim. Across the white fields a 
 peasant’s sleigh filled with passengers glided merrily. 
 The shadows of the passengers, horses and sleigh 
 crept across the field behind the equipage. The 
 muddy road wound up hill and down valley in the 
 broad white expanse. Here and there broad black 
 fields already dotted the sea of white like islands. It 
 was towards evening after a fine sunny day. The 
 sky overhead was bright and blue as though 
 washed and cleaned of all its winter clouds in honor 
 of the coming Passover. Cloudlets of transparent 
 azure bathed in the joyous light, and the red-gold 
 sun shone behind the Breslaw forest sending his 
 golden beams through the naked twigs of the trees. 
 A flock of black crows flew after the travellers. Find- 
 ing no place to rest, they hovered above the sleigh, 
 
98 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 descending now and then, and lightly touching the 
 snow where they left imprints of their feet. A violet 
 red color hovered in the air, compounded of the white- 
 ness of the snow and the blue of the sky. 
 
 The damp odor of decayed roots and of the primi- 
 tive naked soil hung in the air. Occasionally the 
 sleigh passed through a field of snow where the foot- 
 prints of wolves could be seen, and every time it 
 came upon these sharply-outlined foot-prints, a voice 
 was heard from the sleigh: 
 
 “Hillel, we are in the bare fields among wild beasts, 
 and night is falling, Hillel.” ) 
 
 “We'll arrive soon, master dear. You can see 
 the church spire of Breslaw already.”’ 
 
 “What good is the church to me, Hillel? We have 
 to say afternoon prayers and it is getting late. And 
 it is dangerous to stop in the field.”’ 
 
 ‘We'll arrive soon, master dear.” 
 
 “We'll be late for the Eighteen Benedictions, Hillel.” 
 
 “We'll not be late for the Eighteen Benedictions, 
 God forbid. We'll get there even before afternoon 
 prayers.” 
 
 And Hillel began to urge his horses in all the different 
 languages that he knew. Hespoke to them in Russian, 
 “Get up, little brothers, get up!’’ He spoke to them 
 in Yiddish: ‘‘ Dear little brothers, do hurry up a bit, 
 the master has to say afternoon prayers.’’ But they 
 understood best when Hillel began to sing a portion 
 of the morning service. Hillel gave free rein to his 
 voice across the bare fields. The horses fell into a 
 trot upon the fresh, damp earth, the road receded 
 
; LIMHAS) BEGUN 99 
 
 beneath their feet, and soon they entered the muddy 
 streets of Breslaw. 
 
 In the court-yard of Berachiah’s tavern in Breslaw 
 a large number of vans and sleighs were assembled. 
 The inn was filled with Jews from the entire region. 
 Many were on the way from the fair and intended to 
 use the ferry for crossing the river to Nemirov. But 
 the ice had already loosened, and huge lumps of it 
 were sweeping down the river. Many Jews, therefore, 
 from all the neighboring settlements were gathered 
 in Berachiah’s inn, waiting to cross the river. 
 
 Mendel found old acquaintances: Reb Gedaliah 
 of Chihirin, Reb Yechezkel of Kolnik and Jews from 
 Nemirov; also Reb Yoneh the Preacher, Reb Mosheh 
 of Nemirov and many other Jews. They were all 
 in jolly mood, well-disposed, and Chaskel Boruch, the 
 liquor dealer, slapped Berachiah on the shoulder and 
 shouted: 
 
 “Tell your wife to cook kliskes for supper!” 
 
 ‘And stuffed tripe,’’ added Yochonon Aaron, the 
 fisherman of Nemirov. 
 
 “With renderings of fat!’’ 
 
 “And tgimmes, even as for the Sabbath.” 
 
 But there was no need for all that. At the large 
 oven stood the innkeeper’s wife, cooking the supper 
 in a huge kettle over a lively fire. And the appetizing 
 smell of the tripe and the stuffing and of the kliskes 
 already pervaded the room. 
 
 “What is the great occasion?’ asked Mendel. 
 
 “Nothing, just so. ‘When the month of Adar 
 
100 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 arrives, it is a duty to rejoice.’ That’s what we are 
 Jews for! Isn ’t it a plain argument a fortiori? Since 
 even the Goyim, who worship wood and stone, are 
 rejoicing, how much more should we Jews rejoice, 
 whose Father is the Lord of the Universe!’ And 
 Reb Chaskel of Kolsk, to emphasize his reasoning, 
 poked his thumb into Mendel’s beard. 
 
 ‘And have you said afternoon prayers, already?” 
 
 ‘Beginning with noon, and with the special Praise 
 Service.’’ 
 
 “What is the grand occasion?’ asked Mendel, 
 surprised. | 
 
 ‘“‘Simpleton, have you forgotten the year that we 
 are in? We are in the year Zos, that is to say, 
 Tach*, and it has already begun.”’ 
 
 “What has begun?” 
 
 “You have not heard? The wars of Gog and 
 Magog, even as the holy Ari prophesied,’”” Reb Yoneh 
 imparted to Mendel. 
 
 “T come from Lublin and know of nothing.”’ 
 
 “The wicked Chmelnitzki, the Cossack captain of 
 Chihirin, has gathered thousands of Cossacks and is 
 out near the Yellow River to fight the Poles.”’ 
 
 ‘““What’s the news from Zlochov?”’ asked Mendel 
 in alarm. 
 
 ‘““Simpleton, it’s the beginning of the redemption, 
 the wars of Gog and Magog, and he goes about 
 
 * The year 5408, when these events are happening, is repre- 
 sented by the Hebrew letter-combination reading Tach, equal 
 numerically to 408. The numerical value of the letters of the 
 Hebrew word Zos, meaning this, is also equal to 408. 
 
 <<. —_— 7s 
 
 
 
“IT HAS BEGUN” 101 
 
 inquiring after Zlochov! Parnas, ignoramus!’’ and 
 Yoneh turned from him and went into the next room, 
 where a large number of Jews in prayer-shawls were 
 assembled. Some were praying, others singing, 
 still others engaged in study. Their exulting voices 
 could be heard in the other rooms. 
 
 The frightened Mendel came in among the crowd 
 and asked on every hand: ‘‘What’s the news from 
 Zlochov?” 
 
 “Don’t worry about Zlochov! They are near the 
 ‘Yellow River.’ The lords Pototzki and Kalinowski 
 have assembled thousands of soldiers and gone out 
 to give them battle.’”’ Reb Chaskel of Kolsk re- 
 assured him. 
 
 ‘““God be praised,’’ Mendel breathed again. ‘His 
 end will be as black as Pawlick’s a year ago. He 
 will be beheaded in Warsaw,’’ Mendel reassured them. 
 “But still, why all this rejoicing?’”’ Mendel inquired. 
 
 “‘Simpleton, that is just why we rejoice. The holy 
 Ari prophesied this very thing, and there is a hint in 
 the Torah that this year the Messiah will come. It 
 can be seen as clear as daylight: ‘Im tokum olat 
 milchomoh be-Zos ant boteach, if war should rise up 
 against me, I am confident of zos. Now, what does 
 zos mean? Zos, mathematically, means 408. That 
 is to say, that in the year 408 a war willrise up against 
 me—and I am confident of it—there you have it on 
 the surface!”” and Chaskel of Kolnik again poked 
 his thumb into Mendel’s beard. ‘And you, simpleton, 
 go about asking why Jews are rejoicing! Ho there, 
 Berachiah, tell your wife to put another tripe with 
 
102 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 fat stuffing into the kettle and charge it to the parnas 
 of Zlochov!’’ Chaskel of Kolnik shouted to the inn- 
 keeper. 
 
 ‘“‘ And who is the lad?”’ Chaskel pointed to Shlomele. 
 
 ‘‘ A married young man, returning from the yeshivah 
 of Lublin with a rabbinical diploma in his pocket. 
 My son, beshrew the evil eye.” 
 
 ‘Your son with a rabbinical diploma in his pocket !- 
 A piece of pancreas into the pot and charge it to the 
 young benedict Reb Shlomo, son of Reb Mendel, 
 with the rabbinical diploma in his pocket!’’ Chaskel 
 again shouted. 
 
 ‘“‘And afternoon prayers, have you already said 
 them? Where does one say afternoon prayers here?” 
 Mendel inquired. 
 
 ‘Prayers? This room is dedicated to eating. 
 Services are held in that one.’’ Chaskel showed 
 Mendel the way. 
 
 Mendel was still in time for the last kedushah of 
 the afternoon prayers. 
 
 After evening prayers Berachiah set the table. 
 The room was already dark. From outdoors was 
 heard the sound of the ice-blocks sweeping down 
 the river. He lighted two pieces of kindling wood on 
 the oven, and several candles burned in the Sabbath 
 menorah. The drivers brought their torches of tarred 
 wood from the wagons and lighted them. The 
 tables and benches were all brought together, making 
 one large board. The men washed their hands and 
 seated themselves around the board. Berachiah’s 
 wife brought the great bowl filled with stuffed tripe, 
 
 hat 
 
“IT HAS BEGUN” 103 
 
 pancreas and liver, which emitted a heavy cloud of 
 vapor. And Berachiah placed on the table a keg 
 of brandy with a drinking cup. First of all, they 
 took a few drops to drink their mutual health. Then 
 they pulled the tripes out of the bowl, tore off pieces 
 of it’ with their hands and treated each other. In 
 the interval between tripe and brandy, they gave 
 the cantor of Uman the honor of singing a piece, 
 and he sang Va-Yigdal. Moreover, there happened 
 to be among them a Jew from Uman, a musician, 
 who used to circulate among the fairs and who played 
 the violin very beautifully,—and he entertained the 
 gathering with his playing. Also, there was among 
 them an ‘‘ancient’’, one of the Cossacks, who played 
 on a harp which the Jews had presented to him, he 
 being very old. He used often to go out among the 
 Jews, at Jewish weddings and on other joyful occasions, 
 and afford the Jews pleasure with his playing and 
 singing. And now he sang a beautiful song about an 
 old king whom his children had cheated out of his 
 crown and then exiled from his kingdom. And in 
 the intervals between singing and playing, they spoke 
 about the Messiah, about the Redemption which was 
 near and about the wars of Gog and Magog. And 
 later, when the gathering became a little hilarious, 
 the women also came into the room. And because 
 of their great happiness that the Messiah was at hand, 
 they allowed themselves a liberty, and the women 
 went through a very pretty dance. The musicians, 
 together with the “‘ancient’’, furnished the music, and 
 the Jews clapped their hands to the measure. And 
 
104 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 by reason of their great happiness and joy, some of 
 the Jews forgot themselves, and taking hold of one 
 end of a towel or cloth, they handed the other end 
 to the women and danced with them. 
 
 And the old pious Jews sat and looked on and said 
 nothing, for their happiness was very great, believing 
 as they did that the Messiah was at hand. 
 
 Thus did the Jews spend the night in jollifica- 
 tion. Many songs were sung and many stories of 
 miracle and marvel were told concerning the Messiah, 
 and many hidden meanings, Bible verses and mathe- 
 matical problems were expounded on the subject 
 of the year when the Messiah was due. And the 
 “‘ancient’’, the harpist, also reported that there was 
 much talk among the Cossacks that great events 
 would take place that year. He had been to Kiev, 
 and there had heard say that in the church the priest 
 had found a document on the pulpit, sent down by 
 their God, Jesus of Nazareth, warning them to pre- 
 pare for that year... .. 
 
 In a corner near the wall sat three kabbalists, 
 who shared neither in the feast nor in the general 
 rejoicing. One was very stout, another was still 
 a young man, the third was an old man. The stout 
 one was fasting in order to make his body lighter. 
 But he found this very hard, for his body possessed 
 great vitality, and his soul often yielded to his big 
 body. When the big pots with the tripe and lungs 
 were brought in, he was unable to restrain himself, 
 for his hunger became very strong in him. If he 
 closed his eyes, his desire was stimulated through his 
 
“IT HAS BEGUN” 105 
 
 nose and mouth, and he often opened his eyes and 
 asked his neighbor: 
 
 “What is it they are eating there, hey?’’ 
 
 “Stuffed tripe,”’ his neighbor replied. 
 
 “So!” he sighed bitterly, and in order to tor- 
 ment himself he looked straight at the food. 
 
 The old man had a gray beard, and the young one 
 was very emaciated, nothing but skin and bone. 
 They, too, were fasting and for a reason that no one 
 knew. And the young man could not bear to see 
 the rejoicing of the Jews. He jumped up and cried: 
 
 “Why do you rejoice for no reason at all? In 
 the story of Esther is the word Va-Tichtov, and the 
 letter TAV is written large; and the letter CHES 
 of the word Chur is also written large. Now, what 
 does that mean? That means that the edict of 
 Haman has been postponed until the year TACH.”’ 
 
 The people were filled with alarm and they looked 
 to see who had spoken those words. 
 
 “Wicked one, you couldn’t bear to see Jews rejoice. 
 How abundantly do Jews worship the Lord of the 
 Universe in sorrow, and now that, for once, they wish 
 to worship Him in joy, you will not permit it!’ 
 the old man scolded the young one. ‘Rejoice, Jews, 
 rejoice. It is written in the Torah: ‘Be-ZOS yovo 
 Aharon el ha-kodesh.’ what does that mean? That 
 means: In ZOS, which is mathematically equiva- 
 lent to the year TACH, Aaron will enter the temple. 
 In the year TACH will come the great deliverance.” 
 
 Shlomo looked at the old man and recognized him. 
 It was the devout little tailor. 
 
106 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 In the next room stood Jews with prayer-shawls 
 drawn over their heads as on holidays, and sang aloud 
 the kedushah with the melody which is used only on 
 festivals. 
 
CHAPTER TWO 
 SHLOMELE ComMEs HoME 
 
 At the door, mother and nurse waited for the young 
 man coming home from the yeshivah. Neither his 
 mother nor his nurse recognized him. Shlomele 
 was very much altered, having grown into young 
 manhood. His thin black beard was already sprout- 
 ing and mingling with the long curled ear-locks. 
 His beard added age to his features, and the mother 
 had a feeling of respect for her son. The glory of 
 the Torah rested on him and she was in doubt if 
 she might say “‘thou’”’ to him...And Marusha, who 
 stood behind the mother, was wiping her eyes and 
 sobbing: 
 
 ‘The calf is grown up and knows not the cow that 
 fed him.” 
 
 The finest room of the inn was set apart for the 
 young couple. Two sleeping-benches, which the 
 father had ordered from the cabinet-maker for the 
 young couple, stood against the wall of the low-ceiled 
 room, covered with bed-clothes half way up to the 
 ceiling. The beds were separated one from the 
 other and curtained off with green cotton hangings 
 A large box, re-enforced with iron bands and mounted 
 on iron wheels, stood in a corner of the room. It 
 was packed tight with clothing and underwear and 
 jewelry. A leather belt was fastened to this strong- 
 
108 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 box, in order that, in time of sudden misfortune, 
 in case a panic should arise, it might always be ready 
 for the owners to harness themselves into it and drag 
 it along with them. There was also a table for eating 
 and studying, a wooden sleeping-bench, and a cradle 
 stood ready for the child which would come. The 
 cradle with its stand belonged to the “suit” of 
 furniture which the father had ordered for the young 
 couple. But the most important fixture of the room 
 was the shelf of books. The books were considered 
 the chief stipulation which was embodied in the 
 contract of betrothal, and the father-in-law, the 
 rabbi, took great care that this stipulation should be 
 strictly observed. Books were more precious than 
 jewelry,—than the dowry, even. And not with 
 money alone was this wealth of books assembled. 
 Long years of effort on the part of the rabbi, as well 
 as the love and devotion of Mendel brought the 
 volumes together. 
 
 Thus stands ready the nest to receive the young 
 couple, but his mate has not yet come. In the house 
 of her mother the young woman sojourned for six 
 years, waiting for the day when her husband would 
 return from the yeshivah, a great scholar like her 
 own father. The husband is already returned and 
 the young couple have not yet met. She is to stay 
 in her mother’s house until the day before Passover, 
 when her mother-in-law together with her mother will 
 lead her into the nest which has been prepared for 
 her and her mate. 
 
 For the Great Sabbath, the Sabbath before Pass- 
 
SHLOMELE COMES HOME 109 
 
 over, Shlomele was invited to his father-in-law’s 
 board. On Friday evening, when after the bath 
 he came in for the Sanctification of the Sabbath, 
 dressed in his new, fur-trimmed coat which he had 
 brought from Lublin, he saw his young wife for the 
 first time. She was standing in the next room to- 
 gether with her mother, the rebbetzin, and was blessing 
 the Sabbath candles. Was that his wife Deborah? 
 He remembered her only as the child he had left 
 behind. And there, at the Sabbath candles with 
 her mother, stands a young Jewish princess, a tall 
 slender figure, covered with a silver embroidered 
 veil. The embroidered head-dress, studded with 
 jewels, rests on her high white forehead like a crown 
 for her slender girlish head. Her white delicate 
 fingers conceal her eyes and face, and he only sees 
 her young, supple figure standing proudly, like a 
 young cypress, over the burning candles. Now her 
 luminous transparent fingers spread apart, and be- 
 tween them are revealed two large, black eyes, which 
 gaze upon him in silence and deep longing and shy- 
 ness. His heart beats fast and a yearning awakens 
 within him. It seems to him that those eyes have 
 always been with him. He saw them in the long 
 winter nights when sitting over the Talmud in the 
 yeshivah. An eager tenderness takes possession of 
 him, and he gazes upon her, but unable to bear her 
 moist, yearning glance, he lowers hiseyes. A moment 
 later he raises them again, but her eyesarenow covered, 
 and he only sees her shining, ivory fingers and stands 
 lost in thought. 
 
110 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 He is deaf now to the clever exegesis which his 
 father-in-law rehearses. The young man is no longer 
 thinking of Maimonides with whom he had planned 
 to take by storm the fortifications which his father- 
 in-law had so cleverly set up. He is now thinking 
 of quite other things. Those eyes, those proud, 
 black cherry eyes which peeped out between the 
 slender fingers at candle-blessing, are now before 
 him, and he remembers that he saw them very 
 often through the years of his stay at the yeshivah. 
 In the sadness of the twilights, when great shadows 
 shrouded the walls and tomes of the study-hall, he 
 saw those eyes. Even so did Rebekah gaze upon 
 Isaac when he met her on the road. Even so Rachel 
 gazed on Jacob when he came upon her with her 
 sheep near the well. And even so does the Divine 
 Presence gaze at the Lord of the Universe when, every 
 fast of the Ninth of Ab, she visits the ruins of the 
 temple and there meets her Friend, the Lord of the 
 Universe, seated in deep sorrow; and two great tears 
 flow down from His eyes and set the waters of the 
 Jordan to seething. And even so gazes the Sabbath 
 Queen when she descends from the heavens and comes 
 into Jewish homes, the time when mothers bless the 
 Sabbath candles. 
 
 And as the young man is thinking these things he 
 suddenly perceives approaching from the next room 
 a holy shape. He feels her steps coming nearer, 
 though he does not see her. His eyes look down on 
 the floor, but within him there is a sudden light and a 
 shimmering as of silver. 
 
 
 
SHLOMELE COMES HOME 111 
 
 In the doorway of the room stands Deborah. He 
 has not yet looked into her face, but a bright silver 
 light is dancing before his eyes. 
 
 ‘““Shlomele, your wife wishes to see you,’’ says the 
 rebbetzin. 
 
 Shlomo opened his eyes and saw Deborali before 
 him. They were alone. 
 
 Deborah was first to speak to her husband. 
 
 ““Shlomo,’’ she said, ‘‘When you left for the yeshi- 
 vah I wept a great deal. I did not want you to go 
 to the yeshivah, for I was a child and did not under- 
 stand. Wherefore, you had regard for my weeping 
 and did promise me something. And now I have 
 come to ask of you if you have kept your promise.”’ 
 
 Shlomo made no reply, but stepped up to the chest, 
 opened it and said: 
 
 “Here you have that which I did promise you.”’ 
 
 The girl remained standing before the chest in 
 wonder and amazement. The golden slippers 
 gleamed out of the chest. She took them out and 
 examined the high heels made after the Warsaw 
 fashion, and the coat of Slutzk silk embroidered 
 with silver. 
 
 For a long time Deborah examined her husband’s 
 gift. Then she rose up from before the chest and 
 said: 
 
 ‘‘And so you did not forget me. And even when 
 you were so far away from here and for such a long 
 time, you did, nevertheless, remember me and did 
 vouchsafe unto me your kindness.” 
 
 “Are you not my wife, sanctified unto me in ac- 
 
112 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 cordance with the laws of Moses and Israel?’’ her 
 husband replied. 
 
 “IT know not if I am worthy of being your wife, 
 Shlomo. I ama sinful woman and do not know how 
 to bear myself toward God and toward man. I am 
 ignorant, and you are such a great scholar. In the 
 yeshivah you acquired so much Torah, and among 
 strangers so much refinement.” 
 
 “God has gifted you with great charm, Deborah, 
 even like mother Rachel,’’ Shlomo whispered. 
 
 Deborah looked at him with her moist glance, 
 which Shlomo was unable to withstand. For a 
 minute she was silent, then she said: 
 
 “Even for this have I prayed God both day and 
 night, that I may find favor in your sight. And 
 now that God has heard my prayer, what more do 
 I need?” | 
 
 ‘What have you done all the time that I was at 
 the yeshivah, Deborah?”’ 
 
 ‘““Mother taught me how to be a good and pious 
 wife, and your mother taught me how to bring up our 
 children ‘for the Torah, for the canopy and for good 
 deeds.’”’ 
 
 Shlomo came near to her and touched her head- 
 dress without looking at her. 
 
 ‘“May God grant us happiness and joy all the days 
 of our life, Deborah.”’ 
 
 “‘Amen,’’ she responded. 
 
 
 
CHAPTER THREE 
 THE FEAstT oF WEEKS 
 
 The beautiful holiday which commemorates the 
 receiving of the Torah arrived, and with it came the 
 spring to the steppe. Zlochov was inundated by a 
 sea of moist, green, velvety grass, which streamed from 
 the steppe into the town. The vegetation sprouted 
 wherever it could get a foothold, and not only was the 
 earth green with the moist plants but the roofs of 
 the houses seemed to blossom, and even the walls. 
 The houses looked as if they grew up out of the earth, 
 decked out and beflowered as they were with the wild 
 vine, which clambered all over the walls. And above 
 the low roofs, spread the sheltering branches of 
 the linden trees which bent towards each other, 
 became entwined and hung over the houses like a 
 canopy. Every gutter in Zlochov was transformed 
 into a row of flowers, and every marsh was covered 
 with forget-me-nots. Golden yellow daisies twinkled 
 on the moss-covered roofs. Tall bushes of jessamine 
 looked into every window of Zlochov, and the frag- 
 rance of white lilac filled the little rooms. 
 
 And the breezes of spring which came from the 
 steppe began to sweep through Zlochov, blowing from 
 the welling waters which had been liberated from 
 the ice, winds from the great green sea, which flowed 
 around Zlochov in waves of hills and dales of blooming 
 
114 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 forests and flowered steppes. And the twilights 
 came when trees and shrubs became wrapped in 
 dark shadows, and Zlochov seemed threatened to 
 be wholly engulfed in the steppe and never more to 
 emerge from it. 
 
 The day before Shovuos, as the children of Zlochov 
 were playing at the log near the public well in the 
 market-place, there arrived in town a little old Jew 
 with a round white beard, a big sack slung over his 
 shoulder and a stick cut from a branch in his hand. 
 The children looked eagerly at the stranger, for it 
 was seldom that Zlochov had a visitor. Suddenly 
 a boy with curled ear-locks and bare feet jumped from 
 the log and cried: 
 
 ‘There goes the little tailor, there goes the little 
 tailor!”’ 
 
 The children recognized the little tailor and ran to 
 meet him, shirts and trousers askew, and faces smeared 
 over with the juice of berries. 
 
 ‘Little tailor, little tailor, Hurrah!” 
 
 “Keep away, away!” The little tailor waved his 
 stick. 
 
 ‘‘Come to my home, little tailor.” 
 
 “To mine, to mine!” 
 
 “No, to mine! You will sleep on the sleeping- 
 bench.’’ 
 
 But the little tailor had his own lodgings in town, 
 in the vestibule of the synagogue. The children 
 followed him gleefully. In the vestibule he put down 
 his sack and took from it gifts of all sorts for the 
 children. To one he gave a whistle carved out of a 
 
THE FEAST OF WEEKS his 
 
 twig; another received a honey-cake saved from the 
 previous town; and a third, who was already able 
 to read, got a little book. And, as there was still 
 time before going to the bath, the children gathered 
 around him and he taught them a fine song for the 
 holiday. 
 
 At night after the services, the householders of 
 Zlochov quarrelled as to which one of them should 
 have the honor of entertaining the little tailor. 
 Each of them was anxious to observe the sacred duty 
 of hospitality, for it was very seldom that they had 
 the opportunity of fulfilling this duty in Zlochov. 
 
 The first day of the festival he ate in Mendel’s 
 home, this honor being the special prerogative of 
 Mendel, as parnas. At the table the little tailor was 
 very jolly, he sang and talked, a thing which he was 
 not in the habit of doing. He was greatly rejoiced 
 over Shlomele because of the young man’s return 
 from the yeshivah of Lublin, and demanded tuition 
 money from him for having taught him to read his 
 prayer-book, and Shlomele rewarded him with a 
 cup ofale. As the little tailor drank the ale, he sighed: 
 
 “‘Behold Zlochov grown to be ‘a city and a center 
 in Israel,’ the pity of it!”’ 
 
 But no one understood his sighing and his “pity 
 of it’. They marvelled over it, but no one questioned 
 him, for the ways of the little tailor were indeed 
 wonderful. 
 
 Very early the following morning, the second day 
 of the festival, Shlomele was sitting in his room 
 studying his portion of the Talmud. The little 
 
116 KIDDUSH HA-SHF M 
 
 window was open, and the trees which grew behind 
 the window looked into the low-ceiled room. The 
 sweet singing of birds could be heard outdoors, and 
 a sweet scent of honey was wafted from the honey- 
 flowers of the steppe, and filled the low, little room 
 of the young husband and bride. The young wife 
 was standing over the chest and taking out her fine 
 dresses and jewels with which she decked and em- 
 bellished herself to go to the synagogue with her 
 mother-in-law. A great charm rested on her that 
 spring holiday morning. Her cheeks were tender, 
 the bliss of the night still lingered on them, and her 
 large eyes were veiled with a brilliant dew as though 
 they were not yet awake from the dream of the night. 
 And a great love for his wife was kindled in the heart 
 of the young man, and he felt for her a great pity 
 
 and tenderness. And her heart also was filled with. 
 
 love towards him, for his Torah chant that holiday 
 morning sounded as sweet in her ears as the singing of 
 happy birds. For they loved each other very much, 
 as is usual with young people just after the wedding. 
 And he could not continue his studying, so he placed 
 his fur hat on the Talmud folio, and paced up and 
 down theroom. And she, his young wife, decked and 
 embellished herself before him in her finery. And 
 when she was very beautifully adorned, she rose up 
 from before the chest and approached her husband 
 that he might bless her before she set out for the 
 synagogue. And he laid both his hands on her 
 beautiful head and spoke as follows: 
 
THE FEAST OF WEEKS 117 
 
 ‘“May your loveliness remain ever with you as 
 with our mother Rachel.’’ 
 
 And the young woman took her large prayer book 
 with the covers of silver which her father-in-law had 
 given her, and with a great flourish, decked out in 
 her holiday finery, she set out for the synagogue. 
 
 The people were gathered in the synagogue. The 
 women, dressed in their holiday best, are standing 
 in their separate section, and through the curtained 
 railing look down into the section for the men. 
 Between her mother and her mother-in-law stands 
 Deborah, beautiful in her new, jewelled head-dress 
 which her father-in-law had given her when she had 
 presented herself before him in honor of the holiday, 
 wearing the golden slippers which Shlomele had 
 brought her from the yeshivah. She looks down 
 through the railing and sees Shlomele, wrapped in a 
 long prayer-shawl, standing on the pulpit, holding a 
 scroll of the Torah in a loving embrace, and singing 
 a song in glorification of the festival. Like a song- 
 bird he caresses with his sweet voice the melody of 
 Akdomos, imparting to each word all the beauty 
 of the chant. And as Deborah listens to Shlomele’s 
 voice, sweet thoughts come to her and course 
 through her soul like music, thoughts that softly 
 steal their way in and raise a tender blush on the 
 young woman’s cheeks and a moist, bashful look 
 in her eyes. She hides her eyes in the palm of her 
 hands as though afraid lest her mother read in her 
 face the sweet thought that she is thinking. 
 
 Still as in a dream sounds the music of her husband’s 
 
118 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 voice, when a violent noise from the street breaks 
 in and drowns the holiday song. No one at first 
 dares put away his prayer-shawl and step out to 
 see what has happened. And Shlomele strives to 
 raise his voice and to add more sweetness to his 
 singing, but the tumult of the street comes nearer 
 to the synagogue and banishes the holiday. Here 
 and there, one and another slip out of the synagogue. 
 The parnas is banging on the platform table, and 
 the next minute a crowd of men, women and children 
 break into the synagogue and a murmur rises up: 
 
 “‘Messengers are coming.” 
 
 “Two messengers from Karsoon.”’ 
 
 “They ’ve come on horseback; desecrated the holi- 
 day.”’ 
 
 “It’s a matter of life and death!” 
 
 No one now listens to Shlomele’s trilling; the holi- 
 day song is silenced. Mendel is striking the platform 
 table, the people are running in and out of the syna- 
 gogue. 
 
 All at once there is heard the sound of weeping. 
 
 “What has happened ?”’ 
 
 “‘Silence! Silence!’ Mendel strikes the table. 
 
 Just then the door of the synagogue is opened 
 violently, and a frightened voice calls out: 
 
 ‘Jews, flee for your lives!’’ 
 
CHAPTER FOUR 
 THE EXILE FROM ZLOCHOV 
 
 On the synagogue platform, decorated with holi- 
 day greenery, among the scrolls of the Torah in 
 their mantles of silver cloth stand two Jews in their 
 week-day clothes, covered with the dust of the road, 
 who had arrived on horseback in despite of the holi- 
 day. 
 
 The wicked Chmelnitzki has defeated the two Polish 
 generals Pototzki and Kalinowski, the Jews report, 
 and he is advancing with his armies on the whole of 
 Ukraine. The Khan of the Tatars has joined him. 
 The kehillah of Karsoon has already been utterly 
 destroyed. Many Jews have perished. Only they, 
 the riders, have saved themselves, and galloped to 
 Zlochov, desecrating the holiday, in order to inform 
 their fellow-Jews of Zlochov that the danger is very 
 great, that despite the holiday they must flee for their 
 lives, because Chmelnitzki with his Cossacks and 
 Tatars is advancing on their city. 
 
 Thereupon a panic arose in the synagogue. Mothers 
 snatched up their little ones and ran without knowing 
 whither. Some shouted that the horses should at 
 once be harnessed to the vans and all escape from 
 the city despite the holiday. But no one dared do 
 it. They could not imagine that their lives could be 
 cut off so suddenly. No one found it in his heart 
 
120 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 to move a single object on that beautiful holiday. In 
 the meantime more and more men, women and chil- 
 dren came running to the synagogue, as if seeking a 
 place of hiding in the House of God. Nooneremained 
 at home, all felt that they must be together in the 
 synagogue. 
 
 And Mendel the parnas, looking very pale, stepped 
 up to the platform and striking the table, spoke as 
 follows: 
 
 ‘Jews, let us not leave this place. We have built 
 up a settlement, a synagogue—in whose hands are 
 we going to leave all this? It can not be that a 
 whole world should be destroyed. Another day 
 or two and help will come. The lord Vishnewetzki 
 will arrive with Polish soldiers, other nobles also. In 
 the meantime we will hide, lock ourselves in the 
 synagogue. And it may be that Chmelnitzki has 
 
 turned aside with his armies toward Chihirin, where 
 
 he lives. What has he against us? We have done 
 him no harm. To take a city and destroy it de- 
 liberately, to abandon everything to rack and ruin 
 —no, we will not go!” 
 
 Many were reassured by Mendel’s words. The 
 Jews who had been there from the beginning, when 
 the settlement was first built, were so deeply attached 
 to Zlochov that they seized upon the ray of hope which 
 the parnas offered them in the possibility that 
 Chmelnitzki had turned aside toward Chihirin be- 
 cause his home was there. The calamity befell them 
 so suddenly, so unexpectedly, that they were unable 
 to realize the danger. And soon there gathered round 
 
THE EXILE FROM ZLOCHOV 121 
 
 Mendel a group of Jews, manual laborers, horse- 
 dealers who used to travel about among the Cossack 
 camps and trade with the Cossacks, often at the 
 risk of their lives. They were men of strength and 
 courage, their faces tanned by the sun of the steppes, 
 with strong, black beards and bushy brows, Jews 
 with broad shoulders and large, heavy hands,—hands 
 that had built up cities. And they were in accord 
 with the parnas. 
 
 ““Whoever wishes to go, let him go. We stay 
 with our parnas.”’ 
 
 “We stay with our synagogue.”’ 
 
 “The synagogue! In whose care will you leave 
 the synagogue? The Cossacks will burn it!’ 
 
 Silence fell upon the assembly. The rabbi arose, 
 stepped up to the platform and struck the table: 
 
 ‘‘Jews must not risk their lives to no purpose. 
 ‘And thou shalt preserve thy life,’ is written in the 
 Torah. And he who destroys himself knowingly has 
 no portion in the world to come. And the saving 
 of life takes precedence over the Sabbath, even over 
 the Day of Atonement. Therefore, as rabbi, I 
 command the parnas of the community to be the 
 first to harness his van and leave the city at once, 
 for the danger is very great.” 
 
 The parnas did not stir. He remained seated on 
 the platform. 
 
 ‘“‘Whoever wishes to go, let him go. I will stay 
 here with the synagogue. God has built a synagogue 
 and he will protect it. Abandon a city to rack and 
 ruin,—I will not do it.” 
 
122 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 The people, seeing that the parnas stayed, were 
 in no hurry to obey the rabbi’s command. Around 
 Mendel gathered the butchers, the horse-dealers, 
 the camp-traders, and no one dared to be the first 
 to desecrate the holiday. 
 
 A dead silence fell upon the synagogue. All looked 
 to see what the rabbi would do. The rabbi said not 
 a word, but stepped up to the Ark, took up two scrolls 
 of the Torah in his outstretched arms and started out 
 of the synagogue. 
 
 ‘Jews, save the Torah scrolls!’ the rabbi said. 
 
 But he need not have said it. Seeing the rabbi 
 carrying the scrolls out of the synagogue, the people 
 broke into loud wailing. Only then did they realize 
 the catastrophe. They recalled the time when the 
 scrolls were installed, and they wept frantically. No 
 one could speak or think. The scrolls of the Torah 
 were taken up, and the people trooped out of the 
 synagogue after the rabbi. 
 
 Old Reb Shmuel was no longer alive, so another 
 Jew took his little scroll under his arm and left the 
 synagogue with it. 
 
 And the rabbi exclaimed: 
 
 “Jews, you may profane the holiday, I command it! 
 Harness your wagons and save whatever you can. 
 I will do the same.” 
 
 The people hastened from the synagogue after 
 the rabbi. There was a running to and fro. Here 
 and there horses were being harnessed to the vans. 
 They pulled them up in front of the houses, helped 
 in the little ones, and began dragging out their be- 
 
THE EXILE FROM ZLOCHOV 123 
 
 longings, especially books and bedding. Some pulled 
 out of their houses the chests in which they kept 
 their precious articles, harnessing themselves into 
 the leather belts and dragging the trunks on wheels 
 through the streets towards the cemetery. Others 
 snatched up whatever first came to hand—a dish, 
 a garment, a piece of furniture. Some still had on 
 the prayer-shawls they wore in the synagogue. Thus 
 the people of Zlochov followed their rabbi out of 
 the city and on the road to Nemirov. 
 
 And on the platform of the synagogue still sat the 
 parnas of the community, firm as a rock, listening to 
 the stamping of hoofs and the grating of wheels. 
 That was Zlochov on the run, Zlochov flowing out— 
 and he stirred not from his place. Around him were 
 gathered the laborers and horse-dealers, and all were 
 silent. 
 
 Shlomele stood near his father. He agreed with 
 the rabbi that the saving of life takes precedence over 
 everything, and he begged his father to leave the 
 synagogue and go with the rest. But his father 
 continued to sit immovable as a rock. 
 
 “God built a synagogue, and he will protect it,’’ 
 he mumbled in his beard. 
 
 Seeing his father bent on staying, he stayed with 
 him. And together with him were Deborah and the 
 rest of Mendel’s family. And the old Christian 
 woman Marusha stood near the door of the synagogue 
 
 and cried: 
 ‘Dear master, run away; the little brothers will 
 
124 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 come from the steppe, they will spare no one. Save 
 your life.”’ 
 
 But no one noticed her, for she dared not go into 
 the synagogue but stood near the door weeping to 
 herself. 
 
 The noise and tumult outside began to subside. 
 Zlochov became drained and empty. The steppe 
 now won back the portion of which man had robbed 
 her. The synagogue became silent. Cold draughts 
 seemed to be wafted from its dark corners. Through 
 the two little red-and-blue windows in the ceiling 
 brilliant pencils of light entered and zigzagged across 
 the synagogue, lighting up the open Ark and the 
 stars which were painted on it. In front of the pulpit 
 burned a solitary candle which the sexton had lighted 
 for the holiday services. Around the railed platform 
 still hung the rushes and other greenery, for it was 
 the custom so to decorate the homes and synagogues 
 in memory of Mount Sinai. On the platform sat 
 the silent guard, the parnas and his companions, 
 who remained with him to defend the synagogue. 
 
 Suddenly some one rose up from a corner and ap- 
 proached the platform. It was the little tailor. 
 No one had until then noticed him where he sat 
 in a corner, singing his Psalms. Mendel and the 
 others were surprised to see him. The little tailor 
 looked hard at them and then spoke as follows: 
 
 “You are guarding the synagogue? What will 
 you defend it with? Force? Is God in need of your 
 force? Is not a stone, a piece of wood stronger than 
 you are? Does God lack force?’’ 
 
THE EXILE FROM ZLOCHOV 125 
 
 No one answered him. 
 
 But suddenly, in the corner from which the little 
 tailor had emerged, a pale flame was seen to shoot up. 
 The fire seized upon the curtain which hung in front 
 of the Ark near by. And the next moment the oil- 
 soaked pulpit-stand was ablaze. 
 
 “Fire! Fire! The synagogue is burning!’’ 
 
 “Who did it?” And the men jumped up to run 
 to the fire. 
 
 “Wait, I did it!’ And the little tailor kept the 
 people back. ‘‘When the Lord of the Universe 
 wanted to banish the Jews from Eretz Yisroel, says the 
 Talmud, they had all incurred the penalty of death. 
 But God poured out His wrath upon stones and sticks 
 of wood. He burnt the temple and saved the Jews. 
 Are you going to be better than the Lord of the Uni- 
 verse? What is it that you were going to protect? 
 Stones and sticks of wood! Save your strength; 
 God will require your strength for a higher purpose, 
 when the time will come and we shall be privileged. 
 Save your lives, they do not belong to you, they be- 
 long to God!”’ 
 
 The Jews were awed by the voice of the tailor. 
 One by one they began to slip out of the synagogue. 
 Moreover, there was nothing left to defend. The 
 curtains and furniture, covered with oil and tallow, 
 burned like kindling wood. 
 
 “Better so! We’ve burnt it ourselves before the 
 goyim could desecrate it. Come, brothers, let us 
 harness our horses,’ the parnas cried, and together 
 with the members of his family, he left the synagogue. 
 
126 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 “Up, old woman, and help pack. It is getting 
 late.” 
 
 A few minutes later, Hillel pulled up in front of 
 the inn, and out of the house they began to bring 
 the books and the chests. It was high time, for the 
 priest together with some Cossack peasants had slipped 
 into the inn and were beginning to steal the liquor. 
 
 “T have always told you that the little brothers 
 will come from the steppes. They come flying on 
 swift horses and the Angel Michael accompanies 
 them,”’ the priest, already drunk and staggering, 
 cried to Mendel with great cheerfulness. 
 
 ‘“You hound’s son,’’ Marusha beat the drunken 
 priest over the head with a slipper, ‘* When the master 
 is away the pigs crawl out of the sty.” 
 
 And as the parnas’s van was leaving the city, the 
 last in the procession, Mendel turned and looked 
 for the last time on Zlochov. He saw the synagogue 
 burning alone and it reminded him of a candle that 
 burns for one that is dead. 
 
 ee” knoe - - 
 
CHAPTER FIVE 
 “We Witt Do AND OBEY” 
 
 Long caravans of covered wagons wound across 
 the steppe, filled with women, children and bedding, 
 converging from the entire neighborhood towards 
 Nemirov. At night, afraid to proceed on account 
 of wild beasts, they halted near a river. The women 
 and children fell asleep and the men mounted guard 
 in order to protect the wagons against wild beasts 
 and wicked Tatars. 
 
 They built a fire, and the old Jews sat around it, 
 devoutly chanting Psalms, while the younger men 
 stood guard. 
 
 It was the night of the second day of the festival 
 of Shovuos, when Jews ordinarily rejoice in the Torah. 
 The pious little tailor would not allow the people 
 to fall into melancholy. 
 
 “Jews, let us rejoice in the Torah!’’ 
 
 The people made no answer. Each one was pre- 
 occupied with his own affairs. Their grief in having 
 left their city was very great, and they forgot the 
 holiday, they forgot their faith in the Lord of the 
 Universe. And that was why no one answered him. 
 
 ‘‘Poor Jews,—at the very first trial you lose your 
 faith,’’ some one remarked. 
 
 ‘““And perhaps this is His way. He wants to see 
 
128 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM. 
 
 the Jews rejoice in the Torah, not in the houses of 
 cities or in synagogues, but in the open field.” 
 
 ‘‘ And the Jews who received the Torah from Mount 
 Sinai had no cities or houses either, and no synagogues 
 as yet. They were encamped in the open field even 
 as we are, nevertheless they said: ‘We will do and 
 obey.’”’ 
 
 ‘We will do and obey!’’ some one exclaimed. 
 
 And it was as if a great consolation had come upon 
 the people, as if a spark of hope had kindled their 
 hearts and caused their faith to blaze up. They 
 began to understand, to perceive the reason of it, 
 and soon one of them took out the little scroll, the 
 Zlochov scroll which accompanied the Jews into 
 exile, and exclaimed in a loud voice: ‘‘We will do 
 and obev!”’ 
 
 And the people responded lustily: 
 
 “We will do and obey!” 
 
 Some one began to sing the Psalms from the Praise 
 Service, and the people after him. The children 
 woke up and saw the great fire burning in the steppe 
 and the Jews dancing around it with their scrolls. 
 
 “We will do and obey!”’ 
 
 And the steppe was transformed into a Mount 
 Sinai—loud the fire crackled, and far and wide re- 
 sounded across the steppe the cry of the Jews, danc- 
 ing with their Torah scrolls around the fire: 
 
 “We will do and obey!” 
 
 In a few days they reached Nemirov. The city 
 was full of newcomers, Jews from all over the region, 
 who had fled thither to take refuge in the fortified 
 
 my Pa. an ee 
 
“WE WILL DO AND OBEY” 429 
 
 city against Chmelnitzki’s Cossacks. The Kehillah 
 of Nemirov, with its parnas, Reb Yisroel, and its 
 rabbi, Reb Yechiel Michel, at the head, did for 
 the refugees *everything they could. The new- 
 comers were housed in the synagogues, the women 
 and children in the women’s sections. And the 
 charitable women of the city collected bedding and 
 clothing and arranged comfortable beds for the women 
 and children. In the synagogue court off the Jewish 
 street, fires were blazing beneath great kettles of 
 food for the hungry. Whoever had a relative or 
 an acquaintance, near or distant, sought him out, 
 and soon Nemirov became one large community. 
 Both the residents and the newcomers slept in 
 communal houses and ate together out of the com- 
 munal kettles. 
 
 The news came that Chmelnitzki had turned aside 
 to capture Chihirin, his own city. There he had 
 massacred the entire Jewish community, with Reb 
 Zechariah at the head, upon whom he inflicted 
 terrible tortures before putting him to death. Reb 
 Zechariah and the entire community of Chihirin 
 died for the sanctification of His name as befits 
 Jews. They put on their praying-shawls and white 
 robes, and assembled in the synagogue, where they 
 all perished. The news also came that Chmelnitzki 
 had burnt several Jewish settlements, among them 
 Zlochov. But they still had confidence in Prince 
 Vishnewetzki who was advancing with a large army 
 from the other side of the Dnieper to give Chmel- 
 nitzki battle. So they waited for Prince Vishnewetzki, 
 
130 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 who was also a great friend of the Jews, to defeat 
 the wicked one, so that the Jews might return to their 
 ruined settlements. 
 
 But it soon became known that Chmelnitzki de- 
 feated the noble friend of the Jews. Prince Vish- 
 newetzki retired to Lithuania, and the entire country 
 was left without any defense, abandoned to the enemy. 
 Nor could they expect any help from Warsaw, be- 
 cause after the death of king Vladislav, the nobles 
 could not agree as to who should be chosen king of 
 Poland. And the kingdom of Poland was left like 
 a ship without a rudder. 
 
 So the rabbi of Nemirov, Reb Yechiel Michel, 
 called a meeting of all the parnasim and other 
 notables who happened to be in Nemirov, in order 
 to take counsel together on what they should do, 
 for the danger was very great indeed. 
 
 At the meeting there were differences of opinion. 
 Some held that they ought to leave the city and move 
 on to Tulchin, which was a stronger fortress. Others 
 urged that they remain where they were. Among 
 the latter was the parnas of Zlochov, who spoke as 
 follows: 
 
 ‘““Whither shall we go? Whither shall we flee? A 
 whole country of Jews are going to flee! And where 
 are we going to stop? And will they not come to 
 Tulchin also? If, God forbid, no help should come, 
 they are sure to conquer the entire country as far 
 as Lvov, as far as the Vistula. But it is impossible 
 that Poland should perish. The nobles are not going 
 to allow their own cities and villages and property 
 
“WE WILL DO AND OBEY” 131 
 
 to be burned. Help is bound to arrive. How can 
 a whole country be abandoned to destruction?” 
 
 They all listened to the words of the parnas of 
 Zlochov, and agreed that there really was nowhere 
 to flee; that if Nemirov, with its rabbis and parnasim, 
 with its stalwarts and its large assemblage of Jews, 
 should have to flee, then it was really the end of the 
 world. And, they agreed, it was impossible that the 
 nobles would abandon the whole of Ukraine to the 
 enemy. 
 
 “But what shall we do?” the Jews asked. 
 
 ‘“‘Nemirov has a fort. On one side there is the 
 river, on the other sides the walls. We number, 
 thank God, several thousand Jews here in Nemirov. 
 To begin with, let us intrench ourselves in the fort 
 so that the Russians who live here and the Poles 
 may not be able to surrender it to the Cossacks when 
 the latter reach the city. And we will defend our- 
 selves until help arrives from Poland. It is impossible 
 that a Government should allow an entire country 
 to perish.” 
 
 ‘The plan pleased them all, and it was agreed that 
 they should follow the wise counsel of the parnas of 
 Zlochov. 
 
 Only m a corner of the meeting room sat the little 
 tailor and mumbled fiercely to himself: ‘Force! 
 Do they wish to help the Lord of the Universe with 
 their force? Save your strength for yourselves. A 
 time will come when you will need your strength for 
 yourselves, for a higher purpose!’’ 
 
 But no one paid any attention to him. The small 
 
132 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 town parnasim who were assembled at the rabbi’s, 
 were all of them Jews in the same position as Mendel. 
 They had themselves built the towns of which they 
 were the leaders, and because they loved the towns 
 from which they came and were unwilling to abandon 
 them to ruin, they all concurred in Mendel’s advice 
 and began at once to carry it out. 
 
 On one side of Nemirov flows the river, and a stone 
 rampart enclosed the other three sides of the city. 
 On the corners of the walls stood high stone bastions 
 which had a number of old rusty cannon. But there 
 was no ammunition and no one knew how to operate 
 them. But the Jews had no thought of shooting, 
 but only of how to fortify themselves. So they be- 
 gan by strengthening the gates of the wall. The 
 Jewish blacksmiths forged long iron bands, bolts 
 and iron chains with which they strengthened the 
 gates. And about the walls they set up scaffolds 
 with ladders, and built a wooden fortification on 
 which they assembled heaps of stones, sharp poles 
 and cauldrons of boiling water. 
 
 There were also in the city several hundred Poles 
 and a number of German artisans who knew how to 
 use fire-arms. But the Jews were not willing to 
 trust them with the walls or the bastions. They were 
 willing to let them stand on the scaffolds and help 
 repel the Cossacks when the latter arrived. The 
 first thing the Jews did was tohide the girls and young 
 women and their precious possessions in the bastion, 
 and they themselves mounted the walls. 
 
 Nemirov became more and more crowded. More 
 
“WE WILL DO AND OBEY” 133 
 
 and more Jews arrived from the small towns, and 
 they brought the woeful tidings that Chmelnitzki 
 had sent out his general Krivonos with a large number 
 of Cossacks and Tatars who were advancing on 
 Nemirov. A great fear fell upon the Jews. And 
 the rabbi, Reb Yechiel Michel, assembled the people 
 in the Nemirov synagogue on the Sabbath and he 
 put on his prayer-shawl, and stood up to address 
 them. 
 
 ‘““My masters, we do not know what is in store for 
 us,’ said the rabbi. ‘‘A serious time for Nemirov 
 is approaching. The Lord of the Universe desires 
 perhaps that we die to sanctify His Holy Name. In 
 that case, we are prepared and ready. Perhaps the 
 enemy comes to conquer not our bodies but our souls. 
 For our bodies we have prepared a defense, we 
 have fortified the walls. Have we also prepared a 
 defense for our souls? If the wicked one should come 
 and say: ‘Give ye unto me your souls and I will 
 let you live,’ will you be strong enough to have no 
 pity on your lives, on your wives and your children, 
 and die for His Holy Name as did the Ten Great 
 Martyrs, as did all the holy and the pure?” 
 
 The synagogue became silent. The women ceased 
 their sobbing and the men their groaning. There 
 could be seen only shining eyes and pale, mute faces 
 
 And one of the people exclaimed: 
 
 ‘“‘Hear, O Israel, The Lord our God, the Lord 
 
 is One!’”’ 
 
 And the people after him exclaimed as one man: 
 
134 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 “Fear, O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is 
 One!” 
 
 The rabbi was silent. He no longer spoke of 
 martyrdom. His voice became softer, and he began 
 to comfort the people: 
 
 ‘‘And this, perhaps, is only a trial. And you must 
 remember the commandment: ‘Thou shalt preserve 
 thy life.” Every Jew is in duty bound to save him- 
 self as best he can. And he who takes his life with 
 his own hands is guilty of the sin of ‘destroying 
 himself knowingly,’ and has no portion in the world 
 to come. You must not linger for anything, neither 
 for possessions of gold and silver, nor, even, for holy 
 books. For you do not belong to yourselves but 
 to the Lord of the Universe, and you shall not risk 
 your lives for anything but for the Holy Faith alone.’’ 
 
 A loud weeping arose in the synagogue when the 
 rabbi was done. Families assembled together, 
 each family, husband, wife and children, sitting 
 separately, saying farewell to each other and com- 
 forting each other. And the faith of the people 
 became stronger for the words of the rabbi. 
 
 The following day, the sentinels on the bastions 
 saw a great cloud of dust rise up from the steppe. 
 So they descended and brought down the black tid- 
 ings that the wicked ones were coming. At once 
 the men came running and took their posts on the 
 scaffolds near the walls, armed with stones, axes 
 and crow-bars, which they had assembled on the 
 rampart, and the women brought kettles with boiling 
 
“WE WILL DO AND OBEY” 135 
 
 tallow and hot ground cereals which they had made 
 ready. Then there hastened up Pan Kashnitzki, 
 who was Prince Vishnewetzki’s representative in 
 the city, together with a number of Poles, sword in 
 hand, and he cried to the Jews: 
 
 “What are you doing? For whom are you pre- 
 paring the stones and heated cereals? For the soldiers 
 of Prince Vishnewetzki, who are coming to save 
 you from the Cossacks? Do you not recognize the 
 white Polish Eagle on the red flags? Do you not 
 recognize the tufts of peacock feathers on the heads of 
 the soldiers? Are the peasant Cossacks dressed in 
 royal ermine jackets? And are you not able to see 
 from the distance the heavy ear-to-ear mustaches, 
 not the drooping lobster-feelers of the Cossacks? 
 Open the gate for the heroes of Prince Yeremiash, 
 and go out to meet with honey-cakes and pearls 
 the heroes who come to save you and your wives and 
 children from the Cossacks!’ 
 
 And, in truth, there was seen emerging from the 
 cloud of dust a forest of flags on which the white 
 Polish Eagle glistened in the sunlight. Here and 
 there fluttered white flags in advance, as though 
 bringing tidings of help and deliverance. And soon 
 the entire rampart resounded with one shout of Joy: 
 
 ‘Help is here! Help is here!” 
 
 The women came out of the fortress with the little 
 ones in their arms, clambered up the ladders and on 
 to the walls, and, seeing the Polish flags in the dis- 
 tance, they cried: 
 
136 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 ‘‘A miracle from God! See, see what God sends 
 down from heaven!’ 
 
 And the people of Nemirov came out on the streets, 
 came out from the most secret hiding-places, from 
 cellars and holes. Whoever had hidden for fear 
 of the Cossacks came to the gate of the wall to 
 see the arrival of the Polish soldiers who had come 
 to their rescue. Here and there were assembling 
 deputations of Jews, dressed in their holiday clothes, 
 and carrying Torah scrolls, in order to welcome the 
 soldiers of the Prince. Mothers were hiding their 
 daughters for fear of the soldiers who were coming.... 
 And youths and boys gathered on the wall to see the 
 heroes march in. 
 
 The soldiers are already near the wall, but the 
 Jews are in no hurry to open the gate. A herald 
 with a white flag comes riding in advance, and after 
 sounding his bugle calls out: 
 
 ‘“‘Open the gate for the soldiers of Prince Vishne- 
 wetzki!”’ 
 
 ‘“‘Stand aside, Jews, stand aside! Open the gate, 
 Polish soldiers are coming,’’ shouts Pan Kashnitzki. 
 
 ‘We shall see. When they reach the gate we shall 
 see what sort of soldiers they are,’’ the Jews at the 
 gate answered. 
 
 The soldiers are in no hurry to advance to the gate. 
 The army is still at a distance, having halted in the 
 little wood behind the city. They continue sending 
 heralds with buglers, but the Jews refuse to hear of 
 anything. 
 
“WE WILL DO AND OBEY” 137 
 
 “We don’t know what sort they are. Let them 
 come closer to the gate and we will see what kind 
 of soldiers they are.’’ 
 
 “Ah, little Jews, cowards, how afraid you are! 
 Open the gate and let me out to them. If I do not 
 return—if those are Cossacks—it is my death. If I 
 return, they are Poles. I do not need any of you. 
 I alone will risk my life, and do you go and hide be- 
 hind your women’s skirts!’ The Polish nobleman 
 taunted them. 
 
 The Jews opened the little door in the gate and let 
 Pan Kashnitzki out. The herald conducted the Pan 
 to the army halting in the wood. There the Pan stayed 
 a long time. Then he returned, mounted on a white 
 horse and carrying a Polish banner. On either side of 
 him was a bugler. The buglers blew a blast and the 
 Jews stationed themselves on the rampart. The 
 Pan read from a paper in a loud voice. : 
 
 “In the name of his Excellency, the Prince of Russ, 
 Yeremiash Vishnewetzki, the Lord and proprietor 
 of Nemirov, I command the inhabitants of Nemirov to 
 open the gate for the soldiers of his Excellency.”’ 
 
 “Long live our protector, Pan Vishnewetzki!”’ the 
 Jews responded, and opened wide the gate. 
 
 The deputations ranged themselves in order. From 
 the little wood the soldiers dashed forward to the gate 
 helter-skelter, waving their banners in disorder and 
 shouting ‘‘Hurrah!’”’ The Jews were frightened. 
 
 Not in this manner does a friendly army enter its 
 own city. But it was already too late. The first 
 horsemen were already in the city. 
 
138 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 By their long, drooping mustaches, like the feelers 
 of lobsters, the Jews recognized them, and a terrible 
 cry rose up in the city: 
 
 “The Cossacks! The Cossacks!’ 
 
CHAPTER SIX 
 
 NEMIROV 
 
 ‘All this is come upon us, yet have we not 
 forgotten Thee, neither have we been 
 false to Thy covenant.”’ (Psalms) 
 
 A panic broke out in the city. The men snatched 
 up whatever came to hand, the women caught up 
 their little ones in their arms, and everybody ran. 
 But whither to flee they did not know. Some cried: 
 “To the cemetery! The rabbi has gone to the ceme- 
 tery. If we must die, then let us be buried in Jewish 
 graves.’ Others cried: “To the river! The rabbi 
 ran totheriver.’’ But the Cossacks were already close 
 behind them. In the streets were heard cries of 
 terror of young voices, of maidens and young women 
 whom the Cossacks caught up on their horses. Here 
 and there a cry burst out and ended abruptly. And 
 soon a dead silence reigned over all except for the 
 dull thud of horses’ hoofs. 
 
 The narrow streets of Nemirov became silent and 
 empty as if all the inhabitants had died out. The 
 streets were strewn with torn leaves of books, stained 
 garments, fur hats, head-dresses, household utensils, 
 broken brass candlesticks, strips of prayer-shawls 
 and bodies of human beings. It was difficult to 
 tell which was a body and which was a garment. 
 Everything was jumbled together, beaten into one 
 
140 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 mass by the horses’ hoofs. From the closed and 
 shuttered little houses were heard frantic cries, cries 
 of young and old and of little children that were 
 abruptly cut off, the rattle of the dying and the long, 
 long cries of young and strong voices. Occasionally 
 a Cossack appeared coming out of a house half 
 naked, his shirt torn and carrying in one hand a silver 
 or brass candlestick and under his other arm a young 
 girl, half naked with hair disheveled. The girl, strain- 
 ing to free herself from the Cossack’s grasp, struggled 
 and beat him on his naked back with her fists, which 
 made the Cossack curl up his lips and laugh. An- 
 other Cossack came out of a second house carrying 
 another girl who was half dead and lay unconscious 
 across his bare broad shoulders. And both Cossacks 
 stopped, laid their victims on the ground at their feet 
 like bound calves, and exchanged girls, making up 
 the difference in value by paying one another silver 
 candlesticks, pieces of silken cloth, garments, boots 
 or fur coats. Having made the exchange they parted, 
 each one dragging away his victim. From another 
 street appeared three drunken soldiers, half naked, 
 with shaven heads and long twisted pigtails protrud- 
 ing through their sheepskin caps across their fore- 
 heads, their faces and bodies dripping with perspira- 
 tion in the blazing sun, and carried on their backs 
 naked children, some dead and some still alive, and 
 called out in the streets, mimicking the Jewish butchers: 
 ‘Fresh veal, twelve groshen a pound! Kosher killed, 
 Kosher!”’ 
 
 But soon silence intervened. The cries of terror 
 
NEMIROV 141 
 
 in the closed houses ceased, except that from time to 
 time, in some remote street, a hue and cry arose 
 suddenly and grew still just as suddenly. In the streets 
 of Nemirov wallowed drunken, half-naked Cossacks, 
 wrapped in women’s silken shawls and Jewish fur 
 coats. Some were covered with torn prayer-shawls 
 and strips of silken cloth. There lay about naked 
 Jewish women, girls, children, dead and _ living, 
 shattered chinaware, broken articles of ritual. Here 
 and there were strewn about torn parchments of 
 Torah scrolls, leather bindings of books, kegs of 
 liquor, tin plates with trampled food, weapons, pieces 
 of Turkish carpets mingled with human blood and 
 spilled liquor. It was impossible to tell who was 
 dead and who was alive. All seemed drunk, both 
 the living and the dead. 
 
 The hot summer day dragged on and on. It 
 seemed as if it would never end, and that the terrible 
 dread would last forever. Outdoors, the hot, bright 
 day illumined all things. But finally shadows began 
 to creep up from the steppe and the night began to 
 weave its dark pattern from house to house. And 
 soon all things were covered with the blackness of 
 night. Silence and blackness all about, and the stars 
 on high, and a buzzing and croaking from the marshes 
 as on every other night. Only the silence of death 
 hung over the black little houses. And in the midst 
 of it all, some one strummed on a lyre and sang a song 
 bewailing some one’s dark fate. 
 
142 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 In the city cemetery there was a stirring in the 
 stillness of the night. From behind the headstones 
 living corpses began to emerge. Some were wrapped 
 in prayer-shawls, others were dressed in their long 
 white prayer-robes, and still others who had had 
 no time to seize their burial garments, hid in the 
 cemetery, with the one thought of dying in the Jewish 
 cemetery, where they would obtain kever ytsroel 
 among Jews. All day they waited for death, but 
 death did not come. From the city they heard the 
 terrible cries of the tortured, and they pronounced 
 in a body the prayers of the dying when they confess 
 their sins. And each one sought out the grave of 
 his nearest and dearest and lay down waiting for 
 death. But the day passed, and no one appeared 
 from the city. The cries in the city came to an end. 
 Then a hope was born in the hearts of the living. 
 They found the courage to creep out from behind 
 the headstones and one corpse began to speak to 
 another. 
 
 ‘Praised be God, it is the end of the month, and 
 there is no moon. It is a dark night.’’ 
 
 “Will they go away, perhaps?” 
 
 “Is there any help?’ 
 
 “*Sh-sh-sh....”’ 
 
 Many had provided themselves with burial-clothes, 
 and before running to the cemetery, had taken them 
 along and put them on for two reasons, first, to make 
 the Cossacks, if they should come, take them for 
 corpses, and second if, God forbid, they should be 
 doomed to die, they might be buried in their own 
 
NEMIROV 143 
 
 burial-clothes. And now, in the night, among the 
 head-stones, they looked like corpses which had 
 clambered out of their graves and were wandering 
 about among the living. Occasionally such a “‘corpse’’, 
 dressed in burial-clothes, made its way into a group 
 of living persons to beg. 
 
 “Who has a morsel of bread? I am starved,” 
 begged an old woman in burial-clothes. 
 
 ‘“‘She is wearing her burial-clothes and is thinking 
 of food,’’ some one remarked. 
 
 “‘How can we help it? As long as the soul is in 
 the body we must have food,”’ replied the old woman. 
 
 Among the different groups there was also Mendel 
 with his family. When the calamity struck, he, like 
 other Jews, intended to get across the river with 
 his family and escape to Tulchin. But when they 
 saw the panic and havoc near the river, they concluded 
 that they were doomed in any case, so they ran to 
 the cemetery in order to die among Jews. All day 
 the family remained together waiting for the death 
 which they expected any minute. They said fare- 
 well to each other, and together pronounced the con- 
 fessions of the dying. And Shlomele, who was 
 a great scholar, comforted them and gave them 
 strength. He assured them that they would enter 
 straight into paradise, where those who die for His 
 Holy Name are at once admitted. And he gave them 
 a description of paradise with all its degrees and at- 
 tributes, the sun of seven-fold strength, and the 
 Heavenly Court with its eternal peace, where the 
 
144 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 righteous sit with crowns on their heads, and the 
 angels play on golden harps and the Lord of the 
 Universe studies with them the Torah. He was more 
 familiar with the other world than with this. In 
 the sacred books of homilies and in the books of 
 kabbalah he had learned concerning the great and 
 holy life of the other world, where the Patriarchs and 
 the holy ones of ‘all generations are to be found. 
 And what was this world with its terrors, with the 
 dominion of the wicked, compared with the great 
 and everlasting benefits of the world eternal? 
 
 With his words he lifted the spirit of his father and 
 mother and young wife, and prepared them for the 
 great trial which awaited them. They became calm 
 and were happy that they had with them their son 
 as a guide and comforter in their great extremity. 
 They forgot the anguish of death, they were freed 
 from the terrors of the world, and seeing only the 
 great and profound peace which awaited them im- 
 mediately after death, they looked forward to it as 
 to a great deliverance. 
 
 And under a headstone sat the young couple, 
 Shlomele and his wife. The night enfolded them. 
 In the heavens the stars shone big, and from the bank 
 of the river behind them in the valley rose the tumult 
 of the Cossacks. A shot rings out, little fires 
 flicker and become extinguished, and occasionally 
 a stifled sob breaks through the night. The girl 
 clung fast to her husband. It was not death she 
 feared, but parting with the joy she had begun to 
 feel; and closer and firmer she clung to him as though 
 
NEMIROV 145 
 
 she wished to die near him and together with him, 
 that they might never be separated. 
 
 “Shlomo, we have just begun to live and we must 
 part. God has not privileged me to be the mother 
 of your children.” 
 
 ““Deborah, we have been united by God. He will 
 bring us together again when we shall have the pri- 
 vilege of appearing before Him in holiness and purity. 
 There, in the Heavenly Court, we shall be together 
 forever, and delight in the glory of the Divine Presence 
 until the Messiah will come, until the trumpet of 
 the Messiah will awaken us for the resurrection of 
 the dead.’ 
 
 And all at once their anguish became transformed 
 into a great joy. They knew not themselves how 
 it came about. They felt that a great Sabbath 
 was descending on the world and that they were 
 entering into it with immense joy. And by reason 
 of their joy, they recovered the power to shed tears, 
 which they had lost because of the anguish of death, 
 and the young woman said with a radiant smile 
 which shone through her tears: 
 
 ‘When you speak, I find it so easy to die, Shlomo. 
 Why do they not come and release us? I would find 
 it as sweet to die as I should find it sweet to go with 
 you to the marriage canopy.” 
 
 ‘Say not so, Deborah. As long as we live, we must 
 pray for life, not for death.” 
 
 “With the dear God all things are possible. Yes, 
 Shlomo, we shall live. I do so want to live for you, 
 
146 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 for you, Shlomo, so that I may have the great privi- 
 lege, Shlomo.” 
 
 “Be still, little Deborah, be still.”’ 
 
 “Oh I do so want to live with you together,— 
 in this world or in the next. Oh, to live and to know 
 that you are with me.’’ And the young girl fell 
 sweetly asleep in his arms. 
 
 Shlomo sat near her and gazed at her. Her delicacy 
 and beauty made his heart tremble. It seemed to 
 him he no longer knew her. She seemed divested 
 of all things earthly, she became as light, as ethereal, 
 as one of the daughters of heaven, as one of the holy 
 Matriarchs, as that divine feminine, the Divine 
 Presence, that weeps in the night on the ruins of the 
 temple, as the dove that symbolizes the People of 
 Israel. 
 
CHAPTER SEVEN 
 ACROSS THE RIVER 
 
 The night brought the will and the hope to live. 
 Mendel abandoned the thought of dying. All his 
 eagerness and energy were awakened. His shining eye 
 looked keenly about, and all could read his thoughts. 
 He was looking at the sleeping Deborah. 
 
 Deborah was young and beautiful, and if the 
 Cossacks should capture her, they would spare her 
 life and do her evil, which is worse than death. No 
 one spoke of it but all were aware of it and thought 
 of it. 
 
 In the meantime the people began to stir. Here 
 and there little groups were formed, talking low and 
 whispering. This gave Mendel even more energy. 
 He rose up from his place. 
 
 ‘What are you going to do, Mendel?” 
 
 “T’ll go to the fence and look—perhaps—”’ 
 
 ““Mendel—”’ 
 
 ‘““Hush-sh...” 
 
 “Where are you going? I’ll not let you,’’ his 
 wife held him, ‘‘If we must die, let us die together.”’ 
 
 “T’ll go to the fence, perhaps there is hope...”’ 
 
 Deborah awoke. She looked about her frightened 
 and asked: 
 
 “Who is playing so beautifully? I heard music 
 in my dream.”’ 
 
148 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 And, in truth, the sound of a peasant’s lyre was 
 heard in the distance. It was playing a sad, weeping 
 melody. A dread fell upon the Jews. Some said 
 the Cossacks were coming, and the people fled among 
 the headstones holding their breath. The mothers 
 covered their children and warned them not to cry. 
 Soon there was total silence in the cemetery. The 
 only sounds heard were the trembling of the lonely 
 willows aloft in their long branches and the song of 
 the lyre, which came nearer and nearer. 
 
 At last some one came into the cemetery. The 
 playing stopped and a Jewish voice called out: 
 
 “Jews, Jews, ‘it is a time to act for the Lord.’ 
 What are you waiting for?” 
 
 The people found courage to rise and come nearer 
 to the stranger. By the light of the stars they saw 
 an old beggar with a lyre in his hand. 
 
 ‘“Who are you?”’ 
 
 “You don’t recognize me? Why, I’m the little 
 tailor. I can speak Russian, so I disguised myself 
 as one of their ‘ancients’, and am living among 
 them. Now you must save your lives. I heard 
 them say that in the cemetery there are many Jews 
 with much gold and silver and that at daybreak they 
 will come here. You must flee for your lives.” 
 
 “Whither?” 
 
 “The river is calm, the blackguards are making 
 merry in the city, guzzling and committing all manner 
 of evil. Woe to the eyes that look upon it. Who- 
 ever is able, let him escape across the river, for the 
 danger is very great.” 
 
ACROSS THE RIVER 149 
 
 The people began to move about. From behind 
 the headstones black shadows began to gather, 
 murmuring and moaning. Suddenly there was a 
 running to and fro. Here and there were heard 
 sudden cries and groans. 
 
 ““Hush-sh—they will hear you,’ 
 the others. 
 
 ‘What are you doing? The goyim will see you!” 
 
 ‘“Singly, singly...scatter over the field,’’ some 
 one commanded. 
 
 And here and there some one crept by and slipped 
 out. 
 
 But Mendel remained sitting, looking intently at 
 Deborah without stirring. He was pondering deeply. 
 They all knew what he was thinking of, and Deborah 
 also knew, and sat silent like one guilty. 
 
 The cemetery became more and more deserted, and 
 Mendel still sat without moving. 
 
 Suddenly some one crept near to them, and threw 
 herself at Mendel’s feet. 
 
 ‘““Dear master, save yourself. The night is dark, 
 run away.’ And falling on Deborah’s neck she be- 
 gan tosob: “Dear little daughter mine...” 
 
 Mendel and his family were surprised to see old 
 Marusha, the Cossack inn-servant. They forgot 
 their danger for a minute in their gladness at seeing 
 her. 
 
 “What are you doing here? Why are you not in 
 the city? They will do you no harm.” 
 
 “What are you thinking of? Am I going to 
 abandon my masters and go and make merry with 
 
 bd 
 
 several warned 
 
150 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 the Cossacks? If we must die, let us die together. 
 With whom I have eaten my morsel of bread, with 
 them will I live and die.”’ 
 
 “But how did you get here?” 
 
 “T followed you. Seeing my masters run to the 
 cemetery, I also ran. I feared you would drive me 
 away because I am of a different faith, so I lay quiet 
 as a cat under a stone and thought to myself: ‘I'll 
 lie here and wait until the little brothers come, and 
 then I’ll take my two little ones and protect them 
 with my body and say: You may kill me, but spare 
 my little ones.’ Of a different faith, but still my 
 little children.”’ 
 
 ‘‘Go back to the city. Don’t you see? We are 
 in danger ourselves. Go back to your own people 
 or they will torture you like us.” 
 
 ‘“‘Dear little master, do not drive me away,”’ the 
 woman implored. ‘I have served you faithfully, 
 and I love my little children. And I have come to 
 save Deborah. Here I have brought her Cossack 
 clothes, I will disguise her as one of our own. I 
 will say she is my daughter, and so the little brothers 
 shall not notice her; I will make her old and ugly. 
 You take the mistress and the young master and swim 
 across the river. Perhaps God willhelp you. Donot 
 take the young mistress. I know my little brothers, 
 the Cossacks. They scent a young woman miles 
 away as the dog scents the hare. And for a woman 
 they will leap into Hell, not only into the river. 
 I’ll disguise her as a Cossack woman and take her 
 to a fisherman not far from here. We will say we 
 
ACROSS THE RIVER 151 
 
 are peasant women. I will give him eggs and he 
 will take us across in a boat. There on the opposite 
 bank we will meet again. Or else, I will bring her 
 to you in Tulchin, with the help of God. With me 
 she is safer than with you. Like my soul will I 
 guard her, like my life,—my chick, my little one.”’ 
 
 For a minute hope blazed up anew in Mendel. He 
 liked the woman’s proposal. But he could not bring 
 himself to part with Deborah, although he realized 
 that she was safer with the Cossack woman than 
 with him. The feeling of “‘dying together’’ was so 
 strong in him that he only stood silent and thoughtful. 
 No one dared say anything or give any advice. They 
 all waited for the father to decide. 
 
 But Marusha did not let him think. Again she 
 threw herself at his feet and prayed: 
 
 “Dear little master, save yourself. I was in the 
 city, I saw what the little brothers did to the Jews. 
 The little brothers of the steppe have become wild 
 and forgotten God. Evil times have come. The 
 Cossacks have forgotten God. Run, run away.” 
 
 ‘“Follow me. What matters it how death strikes 
 us?’ Mendel urged on his family. 
 
 They left the cemetery, which lay in the valley, 
 and soon reached the top of the little hill. From this 
 point they saw the encampment of the Cossacks 
 lying along the river. The camp was lighted up by 
 the fires which burned beneath the kettles, and here 
 and there by torches. The Cossacks were not yet 
 asleep. The sound of playing and singing or drunken 
 cries arose from different points. Circles were formed 
 
roZ KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 around dancing couples. Occasionally, a shout burst 
 forth throughout the encampment. All these things 
 could be seen and heard in the space between the 
 hill and the edge of the river. 
 
 Marusha threw herself at Mendel’s feet. 
 
 ‘Dear little master,’’ she implored him, “don’t go 
 there. You see what is going on. It is certain 
 death. The little brothers will see us. They’ll de- 
 tect the young woman.” 
 
 “We must separate. In any case, we are face to 
 face with death. When day comes they will see us. 
 Perhaps, if we will seek to save ourselves, God will 
 help us as he has done up to now, and we will meet 
 again in Tulchin. And if, God forbid, we are fated 
 to die, then let us die for His Holy Name’s sake,”’ 
 said Mendel to his family. 
 
 And Mendel embraced them and lifted: up his eyes 
 to heaven. 
 
 “Oh, Lord of the Universe, be our help!’’ 
 
 None of them wept. They embraced for the last 
 time in silence. she 
 
 “Say farewell to your wife, Shlomele. Perhaps 
 God will help us if we separate.’’ 
 
 Husband and wife remained alone for a minute. 
 Shlomo stroked her hair and spoke as follows: 
 
 _ “Deborah, have faith in God, He can do all things,— 
 even when the knife is at the throat.”’ 
 
 She said nothing, but looked into his eyes. 
 
 ‘““And we shall yet meet again, Deborah, because 
 of your great merit, for you are one of the righteous, 
 Deborah.” 
 
ACROSS THE RIVER ae 
 
 “Because of your great merit, Shlomo. And if, 
 God forbid, we do not meet again, I will come before 
 the Lord of the Universe in holiness and purity, even 
 as you have taught me.”’ 
 
 “Take heed to your life, Deborah, and place your 
 hopes in God!” 
 
 “For the sake of our children which God will 
 grant us,” the young wife whispered. And that 
 was her last word to her husband. 
 
 Husband and wife separated. 
 
 ““May God reward you for the goodness which 
 you show us, Marusha,”’ said Yocheved to the Cossack 
 woman. “In your hands I entrust all that is dear 
 to me, my life and the life of my son. And may God 
 reward you for what you are doing for us. I know 
 not if I shall be able to reward you.”’ 
 
 ‘“‘Pray God for us and we will pray for you,’’ said 
 the old Cossack woman, and disappeared with De- 
 borah among the bushes. 
 
 Another minute Mendel waited. The tears which 
 only now were able to break through, were streaming 
 down Yocheved’s face. For a minute Shlomo lis- 
 tened to the rustling of the branches and dry leaves 
 where his joy had vanished. 
 
 Mendel now said: ‘‘Come, in God’s name.”’ 
 
 And Mendel began to creep on all fours among the 
 bushes and weeds down hill towards the river, and 
 his wife and son after him. 
 
 For a long time they crept among the bushes and 
 weeds. The voices of the Cossacks came nearer and 
 nearer. Now they could hear their laughter and talk. 
 
 ’ 
 
154 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 More than once they thought they were lost. But 
 God helped them, they reached the bank unobserved. 
 The tall weeds concealed them. The camp had now 
 become more quiet. The fires beneath the kettles 
 began to die out and the din to subside. The torches 
 on the wagons were still burning, and here and there 
 a Cossack was taking his horse to the river’s edge to 
 water him. Mendel, with his wife and son, lay in 
 the weeds to one side and waited for the camp to 
 subside even more, so that none might hear their 
 splashing in the water. They were afraid to speak 
 to each other and lay there holding their breath. 
 
 “The Lord seems willing to help us,’’ Mendel 
 whispered: “I will take your mother on my back, 
 and you, Shlomo, follow me. And if you should 
 grow weak, seize hold of me.” 
 
 There were two quiet splashes one after another, and 
 two black spots began to move on the surface, dis- 
 turbing the silent ripples. The river gave a sudden 
 heave backwards, and soft waves, one after another, 
 began to lap the sandy beach. 
 
 On the bank a Cossack was lying on his saddle, 
 gazing at the big stars deep in the sky, and humming 
 a melancholy, monotonous tune. He was roused 
 from his waking slumber by the rocking of the wave- 
 lets on the beach. He looked around swiftly and his 
 keen eye at once espied the two little streams furrowing 
 the gently rippled surface of the river. His eagerness 
 conquered his sloth, the two feelings for a minute 
 waging war within him. He took up his spear. He 
 
ACROSS THE RIVER 195 
 
 was already barefoot and the Tammuz night was warm. 
 There was a splash in the water. 
 
 In the midst of his exertions as he swam, Mendel 
 thought he heard the call of ‘““Shema Yisroel’, And 
 out of habit, Mendel, as he swam in advance with his 
 wife on his back, responded in a paroxysm of dread: 
 “Hear O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is One!’ 
 
 And when he stopped on the other bank, he found 
 himself alone with his wife, and in the star-light he 
 perceived on the surface of the river a little stream 
 heading for the opposite shore. 
 
CHAPTER EIGHT 
 
 THE CAPTIVE 
 
 “Thou sellest Thy people for small gain, 
 and hast not set their prices high.” 
 Psalms. 
 
 ‘“‘What have you caught, little brother Cossack?” 
 
 ‘‘A little Jew, a young one. I thought it wasa girl, 
 so it looked from the distance. Then I see it’s 
 a young man with trembling ear-locks,”’ said the 
 Cossack who had waited for him on the bank. 
 
 ‘What will you do with him?”’ asked the Cossack. 
 
 “Tdon’tknow. Tokill him would bea pity. Here 
 I went and got myself wet all for nothing.”’ 
 
 “Tf you let him live, you’ll have to feed him.”’ 
 
 “That is true, too,” replied the Cossack with a 
 groan. 
 
 Near the Cossack lay Shlomo dripping and bent 
 double. He heard the words of the Cossacks, but 
 they no longer concerned him. He was ready to die, 
 and was now saying to himself his prayer of last 
 confession. For a minute he may have pitied his 
 young life and regretted the happiness which he had 
 only begun to enjoy. But he was so certain that he 
 would meet Deborah in the next world, where they 
 would live the great eternal life in everlasting peace, 
 that he was happy to be now approaching it. And if 
 he did regret something, it was that Deborah was not 
 
THE CAPTIVE 157 
 
 near him and that they were not to die together. 
 The uncertainty as to what might befall Deborah 
 tortured him, as well as the thought that he was 
 separated from heratthelast moment. Butsoon there 
 came over him the tranquillity of faith in God, who 
 sees and knows all things. 
 
 The Cossack was holding him by the coat, and 
 more Cossacks gathered around them. The night 
 was dark and calm. The steppe and the river merged 
 together and were lost somewhere in the night. 
 Only the bank of the river was lighted up with little 
 fires. One Cossack after another approached the 
 group. They wereall eager to know what the Cossack 
 had pulled out of the river. 
 
 “Is she young or an old grandmother?’’ And one 
 of them took a torch and held it to Shlomo’s face. 
 Seeing the long, trembling ear-locks on the pale 
 young face, they burst into wild fits of laughter. 
 
 “Ho ho ho! He allowed the Jewess to get across 
 the river, and fished out the Jew. Look, Cossacks, 
 see what he has caught. Just look at his catch. 
 Oh, you are a fine fisherman!” 
 
 The Cossack, a young fellow, with a good-natured 
 face and two keen little eyes, examined his victim. 
 He had already kicked Shlomo several times, not out 
 of viciousness, but in his perplexity at not knowing 
 what to do with him. At last he made up his mind. 
 
 “T’ll baptize him and make a gift of him to the 
 Church. I'll earn a little merit before God for my 
 pains.”’ 
 
 As he spoke, the Cossack took from around his neck 
 
158 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 a little metal cross and brought it close to Shlomo’s 
 face. 
 
 “Pray to Christ, get on your knees before Him, and 
 I’ll let you live.” 
 
 Shlomo did not answer him. He remained lying 
 as before, all huddled together, with his face buried 
 in his bosom. 
 
 ““Get up, Jew,’ said the Cossack, lifting him from 
 the ground. ‘‘Look here, now, I am going to do you 
 a great kindness. JI am going to induct you into the 
 Holy Church and, besides, I am going to let you live,— 
 just because the Cossacks laughed at me. Pray to 
 God, get down on your knees before Him and kiss 
 the cross, and say after me these words: ‘In the 
 name of the Father, the Son’.... Say them, accursed 
 Jew, or I will kill you. As God lives, I’ll kill you.” 
 
 But as soon as the Cossack released his victim, 
 Shlomo fell to the ground, buried his face in his hands 
 and remained silent. 
 
 “You will not do anything with him. I know these 
 young fellows. In Karsoon I captured one of them, 
 a young handsome one, it was a pity to kill him. 
 I was willing to give him my own daughter tobe his 
 wife. ‘Get baptized,’ I say to him, ‘and I will let 
 you marry my daughter. You will come with me to 
 the camp and become a Cossack.’ It was all in vain, 
 I had to kill him. Tough leather, that lot. The 
 rabbis cast a spell over them. The rabbis give them 
 a certain red wine to drink when they circumcize 
 them, and this red wine does not let them forget their 
 
THE CAPTIVE 159 
 
 faith. You will not do anything with him. Better 
 kill him.” 
 
 “Their rabbis give them blood to drink when they 
 get circumcized, and the blood possesses such power 
 that whenever they wish to change their religion, the 
 blood comes and prevents them,’”’ said a second 
 Cossack. 
 
 “It is said that they see a sort of light before they 
 die. In the light they see their mothers, and this 
 does not let them change their religion. But when 
 their eyes are covered, they are unable to see the 
 light.” 
 
 ‘““What’s the difference? You will not do anything 
 with him. Kill him.” 
 
 “Give him to me!” begs another Cossack. 
 
 “What will you do with him?” 
 
 “T will make a present of him to my grandmother.” 
 
 The Cossacks laugh. 
 
 “Kill him, don’t let him suffer. It’s a sin to 
 laugh at one of God’s creatures,’’ says an old man. 
 
 “You are right, little father, it’s best to kill him,” 
 decides the Cossack who had captured Shlomo. 
 
 In the distance the playing of a lyre is heard. A 
 little old man approaches the Cossacks, leaning on his 
 stick and plucking at the strings. 
 
 “Ah, Cossacks, what are you laughing at?’ 
 
 *‘Can’t you see, old man? A little Jew has been 
 captured and we don’t know what to do with him.” 
 
 “Sell him to Murad Khan. He buys up all the 
 Jews. Foran old one he paysa piece of silver and for 
 a young one a piece of gold. You may even be able 
 
160 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 to obtain, in addition, a kettle of Tatar beer to treat 
 your comrades with. A shrewd fellow, this Murad 
 Khan. A great heap of Persian carpets and Turkish 
 weapons will he get for the Jews out there in Turkey. 
 And our little brothers, the Cossacks, don’t know how 
 to take care of what they have. They kill the Jews. 
 In Constantinople they fetch high prices.’’ 
 
 “You speak wisely, old man. Our brother Cos- 
 sacks don’t know how to profit from what they have,’ 
 another Cossack assented. 
 
 “‘Hey there, old man, take us to Murad Khan. 
 Where is he?’ says the Cossack, seizing Shlomo 
 by the collar and dragging him along. 
 
 “You had better not hold him so, you must take 
 care of him. For a dead Jew Murad Khan will not 
 give you anything,” says the little old man. 
 
 ““Make him prance a little, like a young horse. 
 Give him some brandy to make him look livelier.” 
 
 One of the Cossacks took a copper vessel filled with 
 brandy, applied it to Shlomo’s mouth and forced 
 the young man, who was half dead, to drink. 
 
 ‘‘Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is 
 One!”? Shlomo heard a voice in his ear. 
 
 As though in a dream, but roused somewhat by 
 the spirits, he looked around him and saw the little 
 old man who took his hand and said to him: 
 
 ‘What now, little Jew, are you asleep? Wake 
 up and praise God!” 
 
 The voice sounded familiar to Shlomo, very familiar, 
 but he could not remember where he had heard it. 
 
 They arrived before a large court-yard surrounded 
 
THE CAPTIVE 161 
 
 by a fence. From the other side of the fence was 
 heard. a murmur of Jewish voices as of people praying 
 aloud. On a carpet before the door of the court- 
 yard sat Murad Khan, and near him burned a vessel 
 filled with pitch. Before him on the carpet lay little 
 heaps of copper and silver coins, various Turkish 
 articles, carpets, objects of barter. Murad Khan, 
 a sickly man, with a long drooping mustacheand calm, 
 lack-luster eyes, sat silent; near him stood two Tatars 
 with covered heads and called out in Cossack language: 
 
 “Little brother Cossacks, bring your captives to 
 Murad Khan. Murad Khan, the great merchant, 
 is buying up slaves.” 
 
 “Cossacks, Cossacks, Murad Khan pays for slaves 
 with good Turkish money.” 
 
 A small Tatar approached the group of Cossacks, 
 looked Shlomo over, felt him, and pointed with his 
 hand at two small coins. 
 
 “With a pot of Tatar beer,”” the Cossack haggled. 
 The Tatar shook his head. 
 
 “Then I’ll kill him,—as God lives, I’ll kill him. 
 If you give mea pot of Tatar beer to treat the Cossacks 
 with, then well. If not, I kill him.” 
 
 The Tatar approached Murad Khan who sat 
 squatting on his feet, sorrowful and mute like one who 
 is being consumed by some disease. His face was 
 listless and his sad almond-shaped eyes were without 
 expression. 
 
 Murad Khan shook his head. 
 
 “In that case, let us kill him and not sell him to 
 the Tatars.” 
 
162 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 ‘‘Wait, dear little Cossacks, wait,’ says the old 
 lyre-player, and coming close to the Tatar, he whis- 
 pered in his ear and gesticulated: 
 
 ‘That captive, there, is a very important Jew. 
 I know him, he isa rabbi. The Jews of Smyrna will 
 pay abigransom for him. A rabbi, that’s what he is.”’ 
 
 Again the Tatar approached Murad Khan and 
 repeated to him what the old man had said. 
 
 Murad Khan nodded. The Tatar took a pitcher 
 of beer, which stood near Murad Khan, and carried. 
 him to the court-yard among the captives. 
 
 From the other side of the fence was heard the 
 singing of Psalms: 
 
 “The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall 
 I fear?’’ 
 
 “‘Come, dear little comrades, let us drink,’’ said 
 the Cossacks, and sat down on the meadow to drink 
 the Tatar beer. 
 
 ““And you, lyre-player, play us something jolly, 
 and sad also,’’ some of them begged. 
 
 The Cossacks sat in a circle around the player. 
 He took up his instrument, plucked at the strings, and 
 sang to them the following in a strange medley of 
 Hebrew and Polish: 
 
 Oh Thou, Ribbono shel olom, 
 Why dost Thou not notice, 
 Why dost Thou not witness 
 Our bitter golus, our bitter golus? 
 Our bitter golus we shall vanquish, 
 To our land we shall return! 
 
THE CAPTIVE 163 
 
 Return to our land, 
 And there find our Lord, 
 And there find our Creator, 
 And there find our Redeemer. 
 To despair we all refuse 
 Our courage we’ll not lose; 
 Our Mother redeemed shall be, 
 Our Home rebuilt we’ll see. 
 
 Be ye wise, await the end! 
 
 Abraham, dear Abraham, 
 You, our first old man; 
 Isaac dear, oh Isaac dear, 
 Grandfather ours; 
 
 Jacob dear, oh Jacob dear, 
 You, our father: 
 
 Why don’t you plead for us? 
 Why don’t you plead for us? 
 Why don’t you plead for us? 
 Before our Lord, our God? 
 
 Our homes rebuilt shall be, 
 Our land redeemed and free. 
 And to our land restoréd we 
 Our own, own land, 
 
 Our own, own land... 
 
CHAPTER NINE 
 THE DICE 
 
 A little fire of twigs was burning in the steppe. 
 Near the fire sat three Cossacks, haggling among 
 themselves: 
 
 ‘“‘T saw her first, therefore she belongs to me,’”’ one 
 of them, an old man, said. His shriveled face was 
 illumined by the blazing twigs, and his small eyes, 
 which were imbedded in his big broad face like two 
 raisins in a lump of dough, glistened in the dark. 
 He bent down towards the girl, who lay a little dist- 
 ance away from them on the bare field, covered with 
 a long, white, Cossack cloak. He tried to stroke her 
 with his old hairy hand, but it was forced back by 
 the hand of an old woman, who was kneeling near 
 him in a crouching posture, watching over the girl. 
 
 “Tt means nothing that you saw her first when 
 she was hiding in the jungle,’”’ said the second. 
 “What you saw was an old donkey, and it turned 
 out to be a pretty little filly. An old grandmother 
 is what you saw, a little old Cossack woman, before 
 we scared her out of the bushes. And then it was I 
 who recognized in her the young Jew girl. I pulled 
 the cloth from her head and washed from her face 
 the mud with which the old witch had disguised her. 
 You saw an old blind plug, a lame old donkey, that 
 is what you saw, and I found a young eaglet, a little 
 
THE DICE 165 
 
 dove. Well, now, to whom, does she belong, to me 
 or to you?”’ Thus did a young cossack blood argue 
 with the old man. The fire lighted up his full round 
 face, which looked out from his high fur cap. He 
 had a pair of black, childlike eyes, which looked out 
 good-naturedly, even in anger. 
 
 “And I say, all three of us found her, so she be- 
 longs to all three. That would be comradely and 
 in true Cossack fashion,’’ said the third Cossack, 
 who sat near the fire. He did not excite himself, 
 nor shout, as did the other two, but spoke firmly and 
 with assurance. His two mustaches hung down over 
 his mouth like the two feelers of a lobster. He was 
 half naked, and the fire played on the copper color 
 of his skin. He was holding a lump of pork on a spit 
 over the flame. Drops of molten fat dripped into 
 the fire, and made it crackle noisily. The fire cast 
 a red glow on his copper-colored face, which now as- 
 sumed an ashen hue. His elongated black eyes were 
 buried deep in the sockets. His face also was elong- 
 ated, his cheek bones protruded sharply, and on his 
 chin stiff black bristles were scattered. His head was 
 shaven, and a long wisp of hair, which was left on his 
 forehead, came down across his cheek, and this lent 
 to his face a tense and mute expression, as though it 
 had never been visited by a smile. 
 
 “Belong to all three? Oh no, comrade, either to 
 one of us or to none,’’ replied the young one. 
 
 ‘Ho there, little suckling, don’t talk back to an 
 old Cossack. The times we live in!’’ the first old man 
 groaned. 
 
166 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 ‘Otherwise, let us kill her,’’ remarked the squatting 
 Cossack. 
 
 “Tt would be a pity to kill her, dear little comrade, ”’ 
 the first Cossack replied. ‘‘It would be better to 
 bring her to the Tatars; the Khan hasn’t such a one 
 in his harem. He will give us a little bag of gold for 
 her, and the gold we will divide up.”’ 
 
 ‘And what else will you take to the Khan? Your 
 own wife and daughters? Ah, the times that have 
 come upon us! Cossacks have become the servants 
 of the Khan. Chmelnik has sold us completely to 
 the Tatars. A Cossack can no longer afford himself 
 a pretty Jew girl. Everything must be taken to the 
 Khan. No, dear little comrade, either she will belong 
 to one of us or else let us kill her, rejoined the half 
 naked Cossack, and saying this, he took out from his 
 girdle a little bag and shook out of it some bone dice. 
 
 “Comrades, let us act like Cossacks, let us throw 
 dice, and whomever the dice will indicate, to him she 
 will belong. It will be his good fortune, and let there 
 be no jealousy among Cossacks on account of a pretty 
 Jew girl.” ‘ 
 
 “Right! Spoken like a comrade and a Cossack! 
 Whomever the dice will indicate, for him God intended 
 her, and let there be no jealousy among Cossacks on 
 account of a Jew girl.” 
 
 The young Cossack stood in silent thought, and 
 with his velvet eyes gazed at the white coat under 
 which lay the victim. 
 
 “Give way, little brother; shall Cossacks fall out 
 on account of a Jew girl? Whomever God will de- 
 
THE DICE 167 
 
 signate, to him she will belong; and if not to you, 
 then you will be able to get other Jew girls, enough 
 to fill up your mother’s stables. Krivonos will lead 
 us to Tulchin, where Jewish women from all of 
 Ukraine have gathered, and you will be able to pick 
 to your heart’s content.’”’ 
 
 The young Cossack bent suddenly down toward 
 the fire, took the dice and threw them. 
 
 “Three, eight, five,’’ they began to count. 
 
 ‘Six, three, ten.”’ 
 
 “Good throw!” 
 
 “Five, eight, twelve,’’ someone called out and laugh- 
 ed, and his laughter re-echoed in the night from the 
 edge of the field. 
 
 Under the white Cossack cloak lay Deborah, and 
 her shining eyes watched the game of dice by the 
 light of the fire. She knew that the game was for 
 her. She was the stakes. But not for a minute did 
 she despair. An inner assurance that God would 
 help her overflowed her heart. She believed in all 
 Shlomo had said to her before their parting, that God 
 would bring them together and that they would live 
 together again. In her extremity, she remembered’ 
 and longed for the happiness of the days when she 
 was together with her husband. In that remem- 
 brance she found calm, and believed firmly that the 
 time would come when God ‘would deliver her from 
 all her troubles and restore her to her husband. And 
 this faith gave her strength to live. 
 
 Again cries arose near the fire. 
 
 ‘“‘Three, six, five.” 
 
168 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 ‘Seven, three, eight.”’ 
 
 ilawha ita ye 
 
 “Four, eight, twelve,’ a hollow voice laughed 
 heavily in the night. 
 
 At this moment there suddenly rose up from the 
 grass the black spot which was kneeling near Deborah, 
 and which they believed had been silenced forever by 
 the blow she had-received from the Tatar Cossack. 
 
 “For your souls may you throw dice, for your 
 mothers, but not for my eaglet, my little one, not for 
 her whom I brought up with so much suffering, not 
 for my precious own one,”’ old Marusha cried to the 
 Cossacks, and bending down to the young woman, 
 she embraced her and comforted her. 
 
 ‘‘ Precious soul mine, God will help us, you will see, 
 God will send a fire down upon them. Ah, the Cos- 
 sacks have become wild, forgotten their God, forgot- 
 ten their own fathers and mothers, there is no fear 
 of the king in them and they obey no law. Ah, 
 God’s anger will destroy you with thunder and with 
 lightning! He will burn down the bridges beneath 
 you. He will cause the earth to split open. You. 
 will sink down into Hell, you sons of dogs.” 
 
 “‘Be silent, old witch, be silent, you, who have sold 
 yourself to the devil.” 
 
 “Let us cut her tongue out.’’ 
 
 “No, rather the head, then you will not have to 
 cut the tongue separately.”’ 
 
 From beneath the white cloak the shining black 
 eyes now looked up into the sky and into the stars. 
 
THE. DICE 169 
 
 They were full of the faith that there among the stars 
 sat He who knows and sees all. 
 
 Of one thing she was certain, that she did not wish 
 to die. She would live and fight for her life as long 
 as she would be able to, even as she had promised 
 Shlomo. Not for her own sake but for her husband’s, 
 that she might be privileged to be the mother of his 
 children. 
 
 The Cossacks were throwing dice for the last time: 
 
 “Three, six, five.” 
 
 There now came to her mind the morning of that 
 Shovuos festival before the great disaster, when the 
 green trees and meadows looked in through the win- 
 dows of their little room. She sees him again sitting 
 over the Talmud, swaying over it, and studying aloud. 
 She hears his voice, and it rings in her ears like a song. 
 And she stands near the chest and decks herself out 
 for his sake, no, for the sake of God, in order to go to 
 synagogue—in the holiday jewels which he had 
 brought her from Lublin, and she approaches him in 
 her pretty head-dress, and he lays his hand upon her 
 head and looks deep into her eyes. 
 
 From near the fire there now sprang up a tumult, 
 clapping of hands, a wild, bestial laughter. She did 
 not understand what it meant, but she knew that the 
 crucial moment was at hand, and that now God 
 would help her. 
 
 From near the fire someone rose up. The silent 
 naked Cossack approached the white spot with shuf- 
 fling steps, and tore away the Cossack cloak. In 
 the starry night there was revealed a girlish body, 
 
170 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 half wrapped in torn rags, which curled up and shrank 
 into itself like a worm. 
 
 “You will not come near, you will not do my child 
 evil, I will scratch your eyes out,’’ old Marusha cried, 
 and sprang up like a maddened cat between the Cos- 
 sack and the young woman, and stretched out towards 
 him her two bony hands. 
 
 She wanted to say something more, to utter some 
 prayer and entreaty, but suddenly a blow rang out, 
 and old Marusha crumbled to the ground like a bag 
 of broken bones and groaned: “Have mercy, 
 Father.” 
 
 The Cossack stretched out his hand and tried to 
 seize Deborah, but with the agility of a cat, she 
 sprang aside. Her eyes sought for help, and there 
 flashed before her the soft form of the young Cossack, 
 lighted up by the fire where he stood. His sad, 
 velvet glance seemed to caress her, and a sudden hope 
 of salvation flashed up in her mind. 
 
 “Save me from him, I don’t want to belong to 
 him,’’ she said, and clung to the young Cossack, 
 seeking shelter near him, as does a child under a tree 
 when it rains. : 
 
 The young Cossack quivered. Her girlish voice, 
 which he heard for the first time, since he had cap- 
 tured her, made his heart leap, and when she looked 
 into his face with her moist prayerful eyes, he was 
 unable to bear her glance, and avoided it. He re- 
 mained standing firm as a tree, and did not stir. His 
 face became pale and his heart began to beat strangely. 
 
 For a minute the second Cossack looked to see 
 
THE DICE it 
 
 what the young man would do, then with heavy steps 
 he approached the girl and stretched out his hand 
 towards her. 
 
 ‘‘He cheated in the game, I will not go to him,” 
 Deborah cried, when the Cossack began to approach 
 her. 
 
 The young man was still standing mute and motion- 
 less asa tree. But in his eyes a little fire had lighted 
 up. 
 
 “Be silent, accursed one, and come to your master.’ 
 He tried to seize Deborah by the hand and drag her 
 to himself. 
 
 The young Cossack moved swiftly to one side and 
 placed himself directly opposite the other. 
 
 Two knife-blades flashed up in the light of the fire. 
 
 “Cossacks, what are youdoing? Will you slaughter 
 one another for a Jew girl? Are there not enough 
 Jew girls in Ukraine? Cossacks, reflect what you 
 are doing,’’ the third one shouted. 
 
 But he was afraid to approach. Both Cossacks 
 stood facing each other, looking into each other’s eyes, 
 and the curved Turkish knives glistened in the light. 
 
 And suddenly, like a wild animal, the young one 
 leaped upon the other with his knife, and the next 
 moment the older man lay on the ground and rattled 
 heavily in the night. 
 
 ‘‘Curses on you, you sinful soul! For the sake of 
 a Jew girl you have murdered a Cossack, may the 
 sin lie upon you like a heavy burden wherever you 
 turn and wherever you go,” the second old man 
 
172 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 cursed. Then he spat out and walked off by himself. 
 into the night. 
 
 For a moment the young man stood and seemed 
 lost in thought. Then he appeared to remember 
 something and called after the retreating Cossack into 
 the night. 
 
 “Ho there old man, where are you going?” 
 
 “T will not have anything to do with you, you have 
 sold your soul to the devil,’’ a voice replied to him 
 from the blackness of the night. 
 
 For a minute he stood still, not knowing what to 
 do. He looked about him, seeking the girl with his 
 eyes. He found her lying on the grass unconscious. ° 
 
 He stooped, lifted her up and brought her to the 
 fire. Then he took his cloak and covered her. He 
 sat down near her alone. The light of the fire illum- 
 ined her face. He saw how white her face was, and 
 the lids which were drawn over her eyes as in a dove, 
 and a tender feeling took possession of him for the 
 frail creature that lay near him. 
 
CHAPTER TEN 
 IN THE OPEN FIELD 
 
 “What is your name, Jew girl?’”’ the Cossack 
 asked. 
 
 “Deborah. ”’ 
 
 ‘‘And mine is Yerem,’’ the tall Cossack flashed his 
 white teeth in a smile. 
 
 Deborah shivered. 
 
 “Why do you shiver? Are you cold, Jew girl?”’ 
 
 Deborah nodded. 
 
 ‘‘Come closer to the fire.’ 
 
 But Deborah remembered the nurse and looked 
 around for her. 
 
 ‘What are you looking for, the old woman?”’ asked 
 the Cossack. And he took up old Marusha, who lay 
 motionless on the ground from the blow she had re- 
 ceived, and dragged her over to Deborah. Deborah 
 seized her old head and pressed it to her bosom. 
 
 “Wait, now, I'll make her well again,”’ said Yerem. 
 “Hey, old woman, take a pull out of this horn,’’ and 
 the Cossack put to her mouth the horn of spirits 
 which he carried with him. ‘‘Take a good drink, 
 you can afford yourself, the little brothers have 
 enough.’”’ 
 
 After drinking Marusha opened her eyes, looked 
 about her, and seeing Deborah near her, embraced 
 her eagerly. 
 
 ’ 
 
174 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 “You are alive, my little bird! Thank God!”’ 
 And approaching Yerem on all fours, she seized his 
 hands and kissed them. 
 
 “You eagle, you mighty one who saved us from the 
 hands of the Evil One, save us, in God’s name, save 
 the little bird. Oh, you angel sent by God!”’ 
 
 ‘‘And what is she to you, a daughter?” 
 
 ‘More than a daughter, my all, my life, my soul,” 
 and she embraced Deborah as if wishing to shield 
 her. 
 
 ‘But she is Jewish and you are a Christian.’”’ 
 
 “T don’t know myself. She is knitted to my soul, 
 though of a different faith, like a bird from a strange 
 nest. Haven’t I brought her up from childhood? 
 Her and her husband, from the time when they were 
 still tiny ones.” 
 
 “She has a husband?” 
 
 “Yes, eagle, married not long ago. Came back 
 from the school, got married, settled down in their 
 nest—to hatch little ones—and just then came the 
 misfortune. ”’ 
 
 ‘“‘And where are her people?”’ 
 
 ‘“‘God alone knows. Saved themselves or fell into 
 the hands of the Cossacks. Who knows if they are 
 alive?” 
 
 ‘““How could they be alive, being lost among the 
 Cossacks?’’ he declared, and approaching Deborah, 
 he took her hand and asked: 
 
 ‘And are you willing to be mine, Jew girl?”’ 
 Deborah was silent. 
 
IN THE OPEN FIELD 175 
 
 ‘“‘How yours, eagle? Hasn’t she a husband?” said 
 old Marusha. 
 
 “Be silent, old woman, her people are not living 
 any more. The Cossacks have killed all the Jews, 
 so she has no more husband. If you will be mine, 
 Jew girl, you will live, if not, you will die. Just as 
 you like.”’ 
 
 Deborah remained silent. 
 
 “Well, why don’t you answer, Jew girl? It will 
 be a bad thing if you don’t answer. By right, you 
 belonged to Yefrem Skvoz. He won you with the 
 dice. But he cheated, so I killed him and saved you. 
 For myself I have saved you. Because you please 
 me and I took a liking to you as soon as I saw you. 
 Well, now, say, Jew girl, are you willing to be mine? 
 You promised, didn’t you?”’ 
 
 Deborah was still silent. 
 
 ‘But you are so good, you are an angel. A mother 
 bore you, not a bitch, like those others. There is 
 God in your heart. How can you do such a thing? 
 You will not commit a sin before God. She has a 
 husband,’’ Marusha pleaded. 
 
 “Be silent, old woman, or I’ll beat you up as 
 Yefrem did. You have been told, haven’t you, that 
 her husband is not living any more? He’s been killed, 
 all the Jews have been killed. ”’ 
 
 ‘“‘But suppose he has saved himself?’’ asks the 
 old woman. 
 
 ‘‘He’s been killed, and if not, then I’ll kill him. 
 And you, old woman, be silent, you devil. You are 
 a Cossack woman, and you should side with the 
 
176 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 Cossack, not with the Jew. You have sold your soul 
 to the Jew devil; beware, old woman!”’ said the Cossack 
 angrily. He then sat down at the fire near Deborah, 
 took her hand and said to her as gently as he could: 
 
 “You belong to me; from the very first I saw 
 that you were young and beautiful. Through the 
 rags in which the old woman dressed you, I saw all 
 that. And the moment I looked at you my heart 
 leaped, and at once I loved you and had pity for you 
 as for a little fledgeling dove. To no one will I give 
 you up, neither to the Hetman nor the Khan. I will 
 kill them all and keep you for myself.” 
 
 For a minute Deborah was silent. Suddenly she 
 looked straight into the Cossack’s eyes and said: 
 
 ‘“T am in your hands and you can do with me what 
 you please, and yet I am not afraid of you. One 
 stronger than you keeps guard over me. You may 
 beat me and I am not afraid of you. Should I wish 
 to, I will be fond, and should I not wish to, I will 
 not be fond.” 
 
 ‘‘‘Should I wish to I will be fond, and should I not 
 wish to I will not be fond’—well said, Jew girl, well 
 said. And I will not force you to be fond of me. 
 But if you will not, this is what I will do,” says the 
 Cossack, and approaches the old woman. “I don’t 
 know what she is to you, a mother or something else. 
 It is all the same. Come, now, Jew girl, if you will 
 be mine, I'll let her live, if not I'll kill her.” 
 
 Deborah’s eyes flashed. Only for a moment was 
 she in doubt. Then it became clear to her that she 
 
IN THE OPEN FIELD 5 bY 
 
 must save the old woman. How to save her she did 
 not yet know, though she was ready for anything. 
 
 Then she said with an appearance of bashfulness: 
 
 “Your wife I will be, but not your mistress.’’ 
 
 “That is right; there you have spoken well. That 
 suits me: my wife you will be, but not my mistress.” 
 
 ‘“What have you done, daughter? For the sake of 
 my old days you have sinned before God. What 
 have you done?”’ Marusha exclaimed. 
 
 “Be silent, old woman. Do I not love her?”’ said 
 the Cossack, deeply moved. “It can be nothing else, 
 but she has cast a spell over me. My best comrade 
 I have killed for her. He was my uncle,” he pointed 
 to the dead Cossack, ‘my teacher he was, taught me 
 to ride and shoot and I have killed him for a Jew girl. 
 My own mother I could kill for her. It’s nothing 
 else but a spell that she has cast over me.” 
 
 A sudden thought occurred to Deborah. She stood 
 up from near the fire, and drawing herself up to her 
 full height in the light of the flame, she remained 
 standing like an apparition from another world. 
 
 “It was I who brought that about.” 
 
 “How did you bring it about?” 
 
 “With the magic which I possess.’ 
 
 “And broke the oath which you swore to your 
 husband, and forgot God, you wretched creature!”’ 
 the old woman reviled her. 
 
 Deborah raised her thin, beautiful arms to the sky, 
 and threw back her pallid face to the stars. 
 
 “So I have been ordered to do.” 
 
 “By whom?” 
 
178 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 “By Him who dwells on high, and through His 
 might. ”’ 
 
 The simple Cossack was frightened at her expression. 
 He turned to. the nurse: 
 
 “What is she saying?” 
 
 “I do not know,” the nurse also stammered with 
 fear. ‘‘I do not recognize her. It’s with her God 
 that she speaks in that way.” 
 
 ‘“My body I have anointed with the magic oint- 
 ment which He gave me, and no one can do me any 
 harm. Here I stand before yOu; now try your knife 
 on me and see if I lie.” 
 
 The Cossack was terrified. His nostrils began to 
 tremble and his knife twitched in his hand. 
 
 ‘What are you doing? What are you saying?” 
 the nurse embraced her. 
 
 “You fool, oh you old fool! Why are you fright- 
 ened? Do you not know that when God protects me 
 no harm can come to me?” 
 
 The nurse sank down on her knees before her, 
 seized her hands and buried in them her old face 
 which was wet with tears. 
 
 The Cossack stood at a distance, trembling. A 
 terror had taken possession of the tall, strong peasant 
 in the presence of the girl. 
 
 “Come home to my mother, Jew girl. In my 
 mother’s house I will keep you until the wedding. 
 The Cossacks may come and see you and take you 
 away from me.” 
 
 “T will not go with you until you have sworn me 
 an oath by your soul and by your faith.” 
 
IN THE OPEN FIELD 179 
 
 “‘T will swear for you any oath, beautiful Jew girl. 
 Say what you wish me to swear to you by my soul 
 and my faith.” 
 
 “TI know, Yerem, that you are good. You have 
 saved me from wicked hands. You have not permit- 
 ted evil to befall me. God will reward you for all 
 that. Promise me now, Yerem, before I go with you, 
 that until the wedding you will spare me, respect my 
 purity and do me no evil.”’ 
 
 The tall Cossack smiled. 
 
 “Before God I promise you, my beautiful Jew girl, 
 that until the wedding I will spare you, respect your 
 purity and do you no evil.” 
 
 ‘Remember, Yerem, you have promised by your 
 faith and sworn by your soul. And if you will have 
 evil thoughts and desire to do me evil, then through 
 the magic which I possess I will at once know your 
 thoughts. And as soon as you will desire to do me 
 evil, the Higher Power which protects me will come 
 at once and take me away from you. And you will 
 not be able to help it.”’ 
 
 ‘Before God I swear,’’ says the trembling Cossack, 
 “to guard you like a holy ikon, like a saint.”” And 
 he wrapped her up in his long white Cossack cloak 
 and led her out of the field to his mother’s home. 
 Old Marusha followed them. And the dawn began 
 to pale, ighting up the tops of the trees, which began 
 to look out upon the world as out of a mist. 
 
CHAPTER ELEVEN 
 FoR THE FAITH AND FOR THE TORAH 
 
 Chmelnitzki continued to negotiate with the Po- 
 lish Field Marshall Dominick with regard to sub- 
 mitting to the Polish Crown, and at the same time 
 continued to send his Cossack hordes to destroy de- 
 fenseless towns in order to pay his Cossacks with the 
 loot. To maintain the friendship of the Tatars he 
 had to enrich the harems of the Khan with beautiful 
 young Jewesses. A horde of ten thousand Cossacks, 
 led by one of his brigands named Krivonos, fell 
 upon the cities and towns of Ukrainia and wiped them 
 off the face of the earth. The Cossack hordes were 
 followed by bands of Tatars like swarms of black 
 birds of prey. 
 
 In vain did the noble Prince Vishnewetzki beg 
 the Polish nobles and authorities for help for this 
 little army of Polish soldiers who fought against the 
 Cossacks and Tatars. His voice which warned 
 against the Cossack danger remained unheeded. The 
 Field Marshall Dominick still counted on Chmel- 
 nitzki’s justice and willingness to submit to Poland. 
 He continued to make concessions to the Cossacks, 
 and to confer new honors and titles on Chmelnitzki, 
 thinking in this manner to placate the Cossack leader. 
 The nobles were engrossed in the election of a new 
 king to succeed king Vladislav who had died. No 
 
FOR THE FAITH AND FOR THE TORAH 181 
 
 one was concerned over the fate of the distant Uk- 
 rainian province. [In the end Vishnewetzki himself 
 had to leave his little army and travel to Warsaw 
 to seek help from the dissolute nobles for the unhappy 
 people of Ukrainia. 
 
 In the meantime the entire region lay defenseless 
 and open to the Cossack hordes. Likea river which 
 overflows its banks, they overran one city after 
 another, annihilating all living things. They plund- 
 ered and burnt the cities; and the people, young and 
 old, Polish and Jewish, they put to the sword. Only 
 those who were suitable for the slave-markets, the 
 Tatars allowed to live. And they enriched their ha- 
 rems with the comely women and girls. 
 
 After Nemirov they headed for Tulchin. In the 
 fortress of Tulchin the Jews from the surrounding 
 towns as well as the fugitives from Nemirov had 
 taken refuge. So there was assembled in Tulchin a 
 Jewish population of ten thousand souls and con- 
 siderable wealth which the Jews had taken with them. 
 The Cossacks headed for this wealth, and the Tatars 
 for the women and the girls. 
 
 But Krivonos and his hordes of Cossacks found it 
 no easy matter to capture Tulchin. The city was 
 fortified, and the Jews who were, for the most part, 
 fugitives from towns that had been destroyed, knew 
 what it meant to fall into the hands of the Cossacks. 
 So they determined, rather than fall into the 
 Cossacks’ hands, to starve to death in the city or die 
 in battle. 
 
 In the city there were also quite a number of Poles 
 
182 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 and several hundred Polish soldiers. So the Jews and 
 the Poles entered into a solemn pact under oath, and 
 the rabbi, Reb Aaron, the head of the Tulchin yeshi- 
 vah and the Duke Tchwerchinski affixed their signat- 
 ures to a document. They agreed to fight side by 
 side to the last man and the last drop of blood in 
 defense of the city against the Cossacks. 
 
 And a great friendship rose up between the Poles 
 and the Jews. The Jews gathered in the synagogues, 
 the Poles in the churches, and prayed God to save 
 them from the hands of the Cossacks, and they swore 
 to defend each other. They called each other com- 
 rade. The Poles addressed the Jews as “dear 
 friends,’’ and the Jews shared with them the food 
 which they brought together in the city to enable them 
 to withstand the siege until help should come from 
 the Polish nobles. 
 
 The Poles and the Polish soldiers commanded by 
 Duke Tchwerchinski, who were more familiar with 
 the art of warfare than the Jews, and knew how to 
 use firearms, undertook to defend the fort of Tulchin. 
 And the Jews, who were more numerous and more 
 courageous than the Poles, being in greater danger, 
 undertook to defend the weaker and less defensible 
 sections of the city. 
 
 They armed themselves with Turkish weapons and ~ 
 flint-locks, which they obtained from _ the fort. 
 Around the rampart they raised high scaffolds and 
 ladders, built platforms, and assembled heaps of 
 stones and other heavy objects. The women pre- 
 pared great cauldrons of molten tallow, scalding 
 
FOR THE FAITH AND FOR THE TORAH 183 
 
 cereals and boiling water, and brought them to the 
 ramparts. Frequently the Jews allowed the Cossacks 
 to come close to the wall and apply their crowbars 
 for making a breach. Then the Jews would sud- 
 denly hurl down upon them a hail of rocks and pour 
 down on their heads cauldrons of seething tallow. 
 And the Cossacks fled, leaving behind them their 
 crowbars together with their dead at the foot of the 
 walls. And more than once did the Jews, as in 
 ancient times during the siege of Jerusalem, sally 
 forth out of the city, and with utter contempt of death, 
 they fell upon the ranks of the Cossacks, killed many 
 of them and drove the rest back to their tents. 
 
 The food-supply of the city, however, began to 
 dwindle. The food which the Jews had gathered in 
 the city was, by a special food administration, divided 
 into two equal parts for the Jews and the Poles. 
 First they fed the women and children. The men 
 would frequently capture their food from the Cossacks. 
 By their sentinels they were informed of the time 
 when the Cossacks used to drive together herds of 
 sheep and other cattle, and the Jews would rush out 
 of the city and into the midst of the Cossacks, take 
 away the cattle and drive them into the city. In this 
 way the Jews would provide the city with food enough 
 to last for weeks. 
 
 Among the Jewish defenders was Mendel, the par- 
 nas of Zlochov. After losing his son under his very 
 eyes as he swam across the river, and hearing nothing 
 of his daughter-in-law, who had gone away with old 
 Marusha, he took his wife and went with her to Tul- 
 
184 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 chin, together with other fugitives, in the hope that 
 old Marusha might have brought Deborah to Tulchin 
 by a different road. But not finding her in Tulchin 
 and being certain that his son, after falling into the 
 hands of the Cossacks, was no longer alive, he 
 grew tired of life. Having nothing further to live 
 for, he had no further desire to live. But Mendel’s 
 instincts were too robust, and his fear of God 
 too strong, for him to put an end to himself. He, 
 like many others, having lost all hopes of personal 
 happiness, gave up all his thoughts to the welfare of 
 the community as a whole. The community of 
 Tulchin became his child, his Shlomo, his future, his 
 own life. In the community he found his strength 
 again, and for its life he threw himself into battle with 
 an utter contempt of death, and of the personal 
 happiness of which he felt the need no longer. Wish- 
 ing to die for the Jewish faith, he was the first to 
 throw himself into battle, first in dangerous enter- 
 prises, inspiring the others to follow him, kindling a 
 holy enthusiasm in them with his words. 
 
 “Jews,” he would say, his eyes sparkling with 
 inspiration, “‘they have killed our children, they will 
 kill us, but our God lives forever. Then let us battle 
 for His glory, for the faith and for the Torah.” 
 
 And the Cossacks no longer understood or recog- 
 nized the Jews. Are those the Jews who used to 
 gather in the towns like bound sheep, like slaughtered 
 fowl? Like wild tigers the Jews used to rush out 
 upon the Cossacks from the ramparts, with bare hands 
 or armed with clubs or crowbars, and with the cry 
 
FOR THE FAITH AND FOR THE TORAH 185 
 
 “For the faith and for the Torah,’’ they fell upon 
 the hordes of Cossacks. They paid no heed to the 
 arrows which fell among them nor to the bullets, nor 
 could they be halted by the roar of the cannon. 
 With cries and blazing eyes, they tore through the 
 clouds of smoke which belched from the mouths of 
 the cannon, and fell upon the Cossacks, bit them with 
 their teeth, gouged out their eyes with their fingers, 
 and with their long knives they slashed throats and 
 cleaved heads. Often a Jew would clasp a Cossack 
 in a furious embrace, bury his teeth into the Cossack’s 
 throat, and with characteristic Jewish stubbornness 
 hang on until they fell down together, and Jewish 
 and Christian blood mingled on the ground. 
 
 Many Jews, in their readiness to die, put on burial- 
 clothes, prayer-robes and prayer-shawls, and with 
 knives in their hands, rushed in among the Cossacks. 
 The hordes, seeing the white-clad figures sweeping 
 through the night with blazing eyes and faces illumin- 
 ed by a holy light, were stricken with panic. They 
 used to sink down on their knees before the white Jews 
 and pray to them as to angels: 
 
 “Lord, have mercy!” 
 
 Others were stricken with terror by the dreadful 
 anger which blazed from the white Jewish faces, and 
 they fled with wild cries as though pursued by un- 
 earthly apparitions and spread panic among the Cos- 
 sacks. And whole regiments of soldiers fled before 
 the Jews dressed in their burial-dress, leaving every- 
 thing behind them. 
 
 For weeks the Cossack army lay encamped behind 
 
186 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 the walls of Tulchin, unable to take the city. In 
 vain did Krivonos curse and revile his captains, the 
 Cossacks fled before the white Jews as if the terror 
 of God had struck them. Krivonos, however, had 
 determined to take the city by storm. He was 
 ashamed before the Tatars in his camp that the 
 Cossacks were running away from the Jews. He 
 was afraid of Chmelnitzki and feared also lest the 
 Khan of the Tatars become aware of the matter. 
 So he gathered together great hosts of Cossacks and 
 peasants from all the surrounding regions. In their 
 tens of thousands came the peasants from the towns 
 and villages. Horses, vehicles and men covered the 
 country roads about Tulchin as with a black garment. 
 In the city could be heard the roaring and neighing 
 that rose up from the camps of the besiegers. At 
 night their blazing fires could be seen over the entire 
 steppe, myriads of fires stretching far, far across the 
 steppe. 
 
 The Jews were not afraid, being ready to die to 
 the last man. Not like sheep would they die, how- 
 ever, but in battle, in battle for God and for His Torah. 
 The slogan which the parnas of Zlochov had pro- 
 claimed in the community, transformed men doomed 
 to death into heroes, rekindled in the Jews the ancient 
 Jewish spirit. Death was a joy to them. And as 
 in olden times behind the gates of Jerusalem, so did 
 they fight now. All night the women carried stones 
 up the ladders, boiled tallow and lead, and dragged 
 large buckets of pitch upon the scaffolds behind the 
 walls, making ready for the battle. 
 
FOR THE FAITH AND FOR THE TORAH 187 
 
 Tchwerchinski and his six hundred Polish soldiers, 
 armed with muskets and cannon, were in the fort. 
 With him, also, was the entire Polish population of 
 Tulchin, and all were armed to defend the city. 
 
 When the first glint of dawn lighted the summits 
 of the towers of Tulchin, Krivonos ordered his first 
 ranks to the wall with iron borers. These consisted 
 of peasants from the surrounding region, whom 
 Krivonos had armed. He expected that the Jews 
 would hurl down upon them all their stones and 
 pour out all their pitch, so that when the more 
 experienced Cossack soldiers approached, the Jews 
 would be weakened. But unexpectedly the Jews let 
 fly with cannon before the peasants arrived at the 
 wall. In the night they had removed the cannon 
 from the fort and stationed them on buildings near 
 the wall. When the peasants heard the roar of the 
 cannon and found themselves enveloped in clouds 
 of smoke, they fled in every direction. Krivonos 
 ordered out column after column, and the Jews con- 
 tinued to drive them off with bullets and cannon- 
 balls. All day the Jews kept on driving the Cossacks 
 away from the walls, but when night came the Cos- 
 sacks finally reached the wall and began to place 
 their borers in position. Then the Jews met them with 
 a hail of stones, poured upon them molten lead and 
 heated cereals; lumps of burning pitch fell from the 
 wall on the heads of the Cossacks. Many were burned 
 by the flames and lay smoldering across their borers. 
 But ever greater numbers of Cossacks continued to 
 gallop up to the wall on their horses, and the fire 
 
188 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 which rained down from the walls consumed them in 
 ever greater numbers. 
 
 The Cossacks bellowed and shouted and roared, 
 urging each other on with shouts and hurrahs, but 
 the rain of fire did not cease from the rampart and 
 the heaps of corpses smoldering in the burning pitch 
 rose ever higher at the foot of the wall. Finally the 
 gate of the wall opened and hosts of white Jews rushed 
 out; and with knives in their hands, and the cry 
 “For God and for His Torah,” they fell upon the 
 hordes like demons. And as soon as the peasants 
 saw the white hosts of Jews, the terror of God fell 
 upon them and they fled in every direction. And 
 the Jews returned to the city singing Psalms. 
 
 Night came at last, and the Cossacks gathered 
 around their campfires. From the other side of the 
 wall the singing could still be heard. All night the 
 sound of singing was heard from the city. It was 
 the song of those who sang Psalms and cried aloud 
 to God. And it was not the cry of such as are be- 
 sieged, but a great paean of praise from those who 
 are prepared to die for His glory, for the faith and for 
 the Torah. 
 
 And in the starry night the Cossacks whispered to 
 each other, seated near their fires: 
 
 ““The ancient Jewish God has awakened, has come 
 back from Jerusalem, and is now with the Jews in 
 the city. Woe unto us! Woe unto us!” 
 
 a 
 
CHAPTER TWELVE 
 THE LETTER 
 
 In his tent, on a pile of Cossack rugs, lay Krivonos, 
 the Cossack leader, covered with a sheep-skin coat, 
 although it was a warm night in the month of Ab. 
 The atmosphere of the tent was heavy with a stifling 
 odor of a kind of horse-tallow with which an old 
 Cossack granny, half sorceress and half healer, anoin- 
 ted the legs of the leader every night. The odor of 
 the tallow gripped the throat and irritated the nose. 
 The Cossack officers who sat around the leader 
 set up such a violent sneezing and coughing that the 
 flames of the tallow candles which were stuck in 
 the tall Turkish candle-sticks writhed and flickered. 
 
 Krivonos was in very bad humor. He was tortured 
 by the rheumatism. His legs and feet were moist, 
 and felt as heavy as if big stones were tied to them. 
 And the tent was so hot, and inside his legs was 
 a sharp pain which gnawed and gnawed like a worm, 
 and made it impossible to think of anything else. 
 And there were such important and serious matters 
 to consider. It was now four weeks that they had 
 been besieging Tulchin, unable to take thecity. They 
 should long ago have been in Bar, they should have 
 been in Lvov, and Prince Vishnewetzki might arrive 
 in the meantime. And all because of what? Be- 
 cause of the Jews! It was not soldiers who were 
 
190 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 holding them up, but Jews! How would such a 
 thing appear to Chmelnitzki? Unable to take Tul- 
 chin because of the Jews! Cossacks fleeing before 
 Jews! He cursed and reviled his captains, and the 
 nearest one whom he was able to reach he struck a 
 violent blow on the head with his club. 
 
 ‘‘Oh you boobies, clods! Since when have Cossacks 
 been running before Jews? The Tatars will learn 
 of it, the Khan will scoff at us, will laugh in his sleeve. 
 We'll become a mockery and a byword. Then he 
 will desert the Cossacks and go back to Astrakhan, 
 and the little brothers will be left alone, a plaything 
 for the Poles to be taken to Warsaw and there be- 
 headed.”’ 
 
 ‘“‘ Ah, dear little father, do not scold. Of the Jews 
 alone we would have no fear. It’s the Demon we 
 are afraid of, the Demon who has begun to hobnob 
 with the Jews. As soon as the Jews come out of 
 the gates, the Demon appears among them. He is 
 dressed in white robes and has long knives in his 
 hands. And the Demon is so numerous, the devil 
 knows what it all means. Now he is here, now he 
 is there. And the moment the Cossacks spy the 
 Demon among the Jews, nothing will avail. They 
 throw everything away and run, so that you couldn’t 
 hold them with iron chains.” 
 
 “Tt’s not the Demon, it’s their God who appears 
 in the robes,”’ says another captain. ‘It is said that 
 their God has returned and is aiding them. In that 
 case, woe unto us Cossacks!” 
 
 “‘God or Demon, you, captains, deserve to be be- 
 
THE LETTER 191 
 
 headed for the disgrace which you have brought on 
 the Cossacks. We have promised the Khan two 
 hundred girls and women from Tulchin, besides many 
 slaves. And here we stand, and the Jews even take 
 away our cattle. Was such a thing ever heard of? 
 Are you Cossacks? Dogs, that’s what you are, mangy 
 curs, women’s petticoats!’ the leader cursed and 
 struck at those whom he could reach. 
 
 “Ah, dear little brother, you’ll not accomplish 
 anything here. We must devise a trick, someclever 
 trick for getting into the city, just as we did in Nemi- 
 rov. There is nothing else to do,”’ says one of them. 
 
 “You'll not fool them any more with Polish flags. 
 Nemirov has made the Jew devils crafty.” 
 
 In a corner sat a silent Cossack, a tall thin fellow, 
 with calm black eyes, who observed all things closely 
 and said nothing. Though his face was rough and 
 savage, he nevertheless had the appearance of one 
 who was “‘literate,’’ a “‘scholar’’ among the Cossacks. 
 He had a melancholy expression and was busy 
 picking lice from under his arms. 
 
 “Hey, you! Why are you silent? What are you 
 scheming? You hear everything and say nothing,” 
 the chief flung at the silent Cossack. 
 
 “What is there to say? There is nothing to say, 
 we must act,’’ replied the Cossack without interrupt- 
 ing his occupation which, it was evident from his 
 expression, afforded him immense pleasure. 
 
 ‘* And how shall we act?”’ 
 
 “Write a letter.” 
 
192 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 “To whom? To the Jews?’ they all asked in 
 surprise. 
 
 ‘“‘Be silent, Cossacks!’ the chief commands. 
 
 “To the Pollacks.”’ 
 
 ‘What shall we write to them?” asks the chief. 
 
 ‘““We must remind them of our Lord Jesus. Hiding 
 behind Jews, that’s what they are doing! How is it 
 they are not ashamed of themselves? It’s a disgrace 
 for a Christian to seek protection from a Jew. Let 
 them deliver the Jews to us, and we will spare them 
 like Christians and divide the booty between us.”’ 
 
 “What? Let our enemy the Pollack live, so that he 
 may avenge himself on the Cossack later?’’ 
 
 ‘“‘And deliver the booty to them?” 
 
 “Who ever heard of Cossacks asking Pollacks for 
 favors?” 
 
 “Let them but open the gates of the city, let us 
 but find ourselves inside the city, then we shall see,”’ 
 the Cossack replies. 
 
 “Ah, Vassil, you old fox.” 
 
 ‘“‘And what will happen if the Pollack will not listen 
 to us?” 
 
 “We must write in such a way that he will listen. 
 There is no more bread in the city. Soon, the food 
 will give out completely, and then, when they fall 
 into the hands of the Cossacks Hy 
 
 “Good!” 
 
 ‘“‘Sit down, scribe, and write. I will dictate,’ 
 the chief commanded. 
 
 The tall Cossack, who was the counsellor, and the 
 only ‘literate’? one among the Cossacks, sat down at 
 
 
 
THE LETTER 193 
 
 the table, which was covered with little pools of brandy 
 and littered with the leavings of the last meal. He 
 cleaned the table and threw over it a Cossack cloak. 
 Then he took out of a little box a piece of parchment, 
 a goose-quill and ink of a sort, which he had taken 
 along for the purpose. They moved the candle- 
 sticks closer to him, and the Cossacks sat or stood 
 around him, helping to dictate the letter to the Poles. 
 
 But Krivonos found it impossible to give any thought 
 to the letter. The pain in his legs became sharper and 
 more biting. His face which scowled with anger 
 took on a grimace of pain, and he shouted: 
 
 “The granny! Bring in the granny!”’ 
 
 One of the Cossacks went out and returned a few 
 minutes later with the old woman. 
 
 ‘‘Blood is what we need, fresh blood of a young 
 thing,—and it must be still warm so that it may warm 
 up your bones, dear little father, and the pain will 
 stop,’ said the granny, feeling the Cossack’s suffering 
 limbs. 
 
 The Cossack became silent. They looked at each 
 other with earnest, thoughtful faces, on which a sort 
 of fear was discernible. More than once had they 
 seen in Nemirov and other cities the fresh blood of 
 young, still palpitating, little bodies that had been 
 rent asunder. But they themselves did not do it. 
 It was the Tatars who did it. The Cossacks did not 
 murder children, only older people. 
 
 “How do you mean, fresh blood—Jewish?”’ asked 
 the chief. 
 
 “The blood of a kid will do,’’ the old woman replied. 
 
194 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 ‘Go, dear little son, bring me a kid, a young one. 
 There must be such a one in the stables. If not, go 
 to the fold and bring me a little lamb, but it must 
 be young, newly born,”’ the old woman explained to 
 one of the Cossacks. 
 
 The Cossack went out and after a long while re- 
 turned, holding in his arms a white little kid which 
 looked around ‘in surprise, frightened by the lights 
 and the people, and cried in a quavering voice like 
 a little child. 
 
 “Rend it apart, dear little father, and let the blood 
 flow on your sick legs,’’ said the old woman to Krivonos, 
 ‘‘Then cover your legs with the torn little body, and 
 the pain will subside at once.”’ 
 
 Krivonos stretched out his bare sick legs and took 
 the little kid. Thecreature trembled. Its quavering 
 call ended abruptly. Then a stream of young, fresh, 
 warm blood began to flow down on the Cossack’s 
 legs, which he then covered with the warm lacerated 
 flesh. 
 
 “And now cover yourself well, dear little father, 
 and let the blood warm you through. You have 
 given Satan his due, he will now calm himself.”’ 
 
 And, in truth, the Cossack leader now felt his pain 
 relieved. The young, fresh, still palpitating little 
 body yielded a pleasant warmth like the body of an 
 infant. The pain disappeared and Krivonos was 
 able to dictate the letter: 
 
 “Tn the name of Jesus Christ, may He be glorified 
 for ever and ever, Amen! 
 
 “Before our worthy brothers, the Poles, we beat 
 
DAE PETER 195 
 
 the ground with our foreheads, and send you greetings. 
 We pray for you day and night to our Lord God that 
 He preserve you against war, famine and pestilence, 
 to-day and forever, Amen! 
 
 “It has come to our ears how the name of our Lord 
 God is become a mockery and a byword, and we have 
 seen how Christians, our worthy brothers, the Poles, 
 are put to shame in that they seek protection and 
 safety from the enemies of Christ, the Jews. Wherefore 
 our Christian hearts have been exceedingly pained. Is 
 it fair and fitting that Christians, our worthy brothers 
 the Poles, should enter into comradeship with the 
 enemies of Christ, the Jews, against their brother 
 Christians? And is it fair and fitting that the valorous 
 Poles should allow themselves to be protected by 
 Jews? Wherefore we have thought to send you 
 messengers with greetings and peace, and we pray 
 you, dear brothers, to receive well our messengers and 
 fittingly, and to give ear to their words. 
 
 “Dear brothers! 
 
 “Not against you nor your wives and children, nor 
 against your possessions, nor against anything which 
 is yours have the Cossacks gone out to wage war. 
 Not against Christians do we wage war, but against 
 the enemies of Christ, against the Jews who crucified 
 our Lord Jesus, and stole our possessions. Against 
 them and against everything which is theirs have the 
 Cossacks gone out to fight the battle of Christ. You, 
 Poles, are our brothers, and we will treat you like 
 brothers. If you will deliver the Jews to us, then 
 we will spare you and your wives and children and 
 
196 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 everything which belongs to you. And in order that 
 the Jews may not hide away their possessions, pro- 
 claim among them that we, the Cossacks, are 
 prepared to abandon the city if they will assemble all 
 their possessions, their gold and silver, their silks and 
 garments, and offer them as aransom. Let the Jews 
 bring their wealth to you in the fort, and when they 
 shall have brought together their gold and silver, open 
 for us the gates of the fort and let the Cossacks in. 
 On the enemies of Christ we will avenge ourselves 
 even as they did crucify God. But you and your 
 wives and children and everything which is yours we 
 will spare, and the wealth we will share with you. 
 So help us our Lord Jesus Christ, Amen!” 
 
 In the dark night two riders took the parchment, 
 which was written with the aid of the warm blood 
 of the rent kid, to the Christians of Tulchin. A white 
 flag fluttered pale in the light of the stars. And when 
 the sentinels on the tower of the fort called down to 
 the horsemen: “‘Who goes there?” the horsemen 
 raised aloft their white flag and the parchment and 
 called out: 
 
 “In the name of Jesus Christ.” 
 
CHAPTER THIRTEEN 
 THE GREAT ORDEAL 
 
 Duke Tchwerchinski informed the Jews that the 
 Cossacks were ready to abandon the city in return 
 for all the gold and silver, the silk fur-coats, and other 
 garments which the Jews would offer as a ransom. 
 Reb Aaron, the head of the yeshivah and rabbi of 
 the city, called a meeting of the parnasim and notables, 
 and they resolved to redeem their lives with their 
 possessions. So they proclaimed in the synagogues, 
 in the market-places and about the ramparts that the 
 Jews bring all their belongings to the Duke in the 
 castle as ransom for the Cossacks. 
 
 And the Jews assembled their possessions, saying 
 to themselves: ‘“‘Let gold and silver be the scape- 
 goat for our lives,’’ and praised God who sends sal- 
 vation. 
 
 There were many precious vessels among the objects 
 which the Jews brought to the castle:  silver-filigree 
 cups, the work of the Nuremberg craftsmen, which the 
 Jews had brought from the fairs; lime-boxes in the 
 shape of various fruits; spice-rods shaped like towers 
 and engraved with flags and the signs of the zodiac, 
 and menorahs with the symbols of the tribes. There 
 were also all manner of jewels, of gold and silver and 
 precious stones; expensive fur coats of sable and mink 
 which they had bought from the Russian merchants; 
 
198 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 and much cloth of silk for garments, Italian brocades 
 which they had purchased for ark-curtains and bridal 
 gifts, and silks from Slutzk inwoven with silver and 
 gold. For they withheld nothing in order to redeem 
 their lives. And they assembled all this wealth in 
 great heaps in the fort of Tulchin. The broad silver 
 neck-bands gleamed among the dark, heavy furs, 
 and the gold jewels and preciousstonessparkled among 
 the wave of silks, velvets and satins which lay in 
 heaps in the court-yards of the castle ready for the 
 Cossacks. 
 
 And as soon as the Jews had brought all their wealth 
 the Duke said: 
 
 “Give up your arms and bring them to this place.”’ 
 
 Whereupon the Jews said: 
 
 “What need has the Cossack of our arms? He has 
 arms enough, and well he knows that we shall not 
 pursue him when he withdraws from here. And 
 we have taken up our arms only in order to defend 
 ourselves and not, God forfend, for the purpose of 
 attacking him. And now, since he is withdrawing 
 from here and wishes to wage war against us no longer, 
 what need has he of our arms?” 
 
 To which the Duke replied: 
 
 “The Cossack demands it, and he and I have so 
 agreed.” 
 
 - Then the Jews realized that the Poles had made a 
 compact with the Cossacks for destroying them. 
 
 And Mendel, the parnas of Zlochov, spoke and said: 
 
 “We have brought you our wealth, but our arms 
 we will not deliver up. For, if you demand our arms, 
 
THE GREAT ORDEAL 199 
 
 it can mean nothing else than that you have made 
 a compact with the Cossacks to betray us and deliver 
 us into their hands. For what else can it mean that 
 you demand from us the weapons with which we de- 
 fended and saved the city?”’ 
 
 And other Jews spoke after the parnas and said: 
 “We will give up our wealth, but we will not sur- 
 render our arms.”’ 
 
 And still other Jews cried aloud and answered the 
 Duke: 
 
 “Tf we must die, then let us all die, the Poles to- 
 gether with the Jews!’ 
 
 And there was a young man there from Karsoon; 
 he was thin and tall and his eyes blazed with the ven- 
 geance of God. His ear-locks trembled and the teeth 
 in his jaws chattered with anger, for the wrath of the 
 Lord burned strong within him. And he snatched 
 up a long knife and cried to the Jews: 
 
 “The gentiles have betrayed us here just as in 
 Nemirov. Let us avenge ourselves on them with the 
 vengeance of the Lord, for God and for His Torah!” 
 
 Like a sudden burst of flames the words of the young 
 man seized upon the excited assembly. They had 
 nothing more to lose. They had long before made 
 their peace with death, but they wished to sell their 
 lives dearly. There suddenly kindled up within them 
 the ancient Jewish wrath. Their eyes blazed, ear- 
 locks trembled and teeth gnashed. Weapons appeared 
 in their hands and a rumbling as of distant thunder 
 passed through the multitude: 
 
200»): KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 “The Gentiles have sold us!”’ 
 
 “For Nemirov!’”” 
 
 “For innocent Jewish blood!’ 
 “For the faith and for the Torah!’’ 
 
 And the multitudes, young men and old, two thousand 
 strong, with the long knives in their hands, began to 
 close in on the Poles, and soon the Duke with his 
 soldiers and the other Poles together with their wives 
 and children, all of whom were in the fort, were sur- 
 rounded by the infuriated Jewish throng. The Jews 
 drew nearer and nearer, forming a circle with the 
 Poles in the center. Some of the Jews were already 
 rushing on the Poles with their knives,and in another 
 moment the most frightful massacre would have taken 
 place, for the Jews were exceedingly exasperated. 
 Suddenly some one in the throng called out: 
 
 “Jews! Children of Israel, ye merciful sons of the 
 merciful, what are you doing?” 
 
 The multitude halted, and from its midst came forth 
 an old man with a small beard of lustrous whiteness. 
 He was dressed all in white, and with his bare, bony 
 arms, which extended from his prayer-robe, he held 
 back the enraged people. 
 
 “Woe unto the eyes that look upon this!’ the 
 old man cried. ‘‘Are these the merciful sons of the 
 merciful? How can you forget yourselves just before 
 your death, before the coming of the great ordeal!’ 
 
 The people halted in the presence of the white beard, 
 the bare arms and the long prayer-robe. They 
 lowered their knives and there was a silence in the 
 
THE GREAT ORDEAL 201 
 
 multitude as in a synagogue before the blowing of 
 the shofar. 
 
 “Jews are responsible one for another!’ the old 
 man cried aloud. ‘If you kill the Gentiles they will 
 avenge themselves on the Jews of other cities. Jews 
 must not harbor any wrath, we must not take any 
 revenge in our behalf! Save your strength for the 
 proper moment when the great ordeal will arrive, for 
 kiddush ha-shem, for the faith and for the Torah!”’ 
 
 “They have sold us to the Cossacks! They will 
 murder us as they did in Nemirov!”’ one of the people 
 cried. 
 
 ‘And why are you better than the Jews of Nemirov? 
 Did they not die for the sanctification of His Name? 
 The Lord of the Universe calls for our souls, we will 
 render them unto Him with joy and gladness. And 
 let our hands be clean. We will not be like the Gen- 
 tiles. They have betrayed us. May God’s wrath 
 for the blood of the Jews which flows like water, fall 
 upon their heads. We will not profane with revenge 
 the kiddush ha-shem which God requires of us. We 
 must look on and be silent—such is the will of God. 
 Jews, give up your arms! If the Lord of the Universe 
 wishes to help us, do we need our arms, those bits of 
 wood and iron? Does the Omnipotent—He in the palm 
 of whose hand are heaven and earth—does He need 
 human weapons in order to help us? That is the 
 salvation of the Gentiles. That is their strength. 
 Our strength is God, and therefore save your own 
 strength for Him, for the faith and for the Torah, 
 when the great ordeal will come!” 
 
202 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 Then one stepped out from the multitude, approach- 
 ed the Polish nobleman who, with the other Poles, 
 stood and trembled in presence of the strange storm 
 which raged around them, and threw his arms at his 
 feet. 
 
 And one after another they stepped up to the noble- 
 man and threw at his feet their earthly weapons. 
 
 A smile of bliss irradiated their features, their eyes 
 blazed with a holy light. With a profound inner 
 happiness, which transfigured their faces, they threw 
 their weapons at the feet of the hobleman without 
 raising their heads or giving him a glance, for they 
 were so engrossed in their inner bliss that they were 
 unconscious of his presence. 
 
 The duke gave a command and the Poles opened the 
 gate. The Jews said not a word. And soon the 
 Polish soldiers surrounded them and ordered them 
 to move on. The Jews started off. Rabbis in 
 prayer-shawls walked in advance and the rest followed. 
 And then the entire multitude, men, women, and 
 children, took up jubilantly the song which the cantors 
 were singing: 
 
 The Lord is my light and my salvation, 
 Whom shall I fear? 
 
 The Lord is the stronghold of my life, 
 Of whom shall I be afraid? 
 
 And with song on their lips, they went forth to meet 
 their death. 
 
CHAPTER FOURTEEN 
 
 KippusH HaAa-SHEM 
 
 Nay, but for Thy sake are we killed all the day. 
 (Psalms) 
 
 The Cossacks waited outside the fort. They 
 surrounded the Jews and began to corral them like 
 sheep, driving them into a large orchard with a fence 
 around it. About two thousand Jews were there, 
 men, women, andchildren. Among them were several 
 rabbis: the old rabbi, Reb Aaron, the head of the 
 yeshivah of Tulchin, and other rabbis, who were great 
 students of the kabbalah. And they, together with 
 the devout little tailor, who was already dressed in his 
 burial-clothes with his prayer-shawl thrown over his 
 head, were leading the Jews. The cantors continued 
 to sing so as to prevent the Jews from falling into 
 melancholy and being stricken, God forfend, with 
 weakness. And the multitude sang after them: 
 
 Though a host should encamp against me, 
 My heart shall not fear; 
 
 Though war should rise up against me, 
 
 Even then will I be confident. 
 
 The Jews did not know what the Cossacks intended 
 to do with them: to let them live or to massacre them. 
 It was all one to them. A courage which passed all 
 understanding inspired them to die. They saw the 
 
204 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 gates of paradise opening before them. And it was 
 not death they feared, but lest they be separated, 
 lest their wives and children be taken from them. With 
 their own hands they were ready to kill their nearest 
 and dearest rather than see them defiled. The women 
 looked upon the men, and in their glance was the 
 knowledge of death. They did not weep, not even 
 the children wept. The singing of the cantors trans- 
 ported them into such an exaltation, into such spiritual 
 joy, that every earthly feeling fell away from them, 
 and some of them already lived the serene and in- 
 finite life of the beyond. 
 
 The orchard was full of ripe fruit. Itwas the month 
 of Ellul, and the sun was shining, and the world had a 
 holiday aspect, and they were all together, and the 
 cantors were singing. And some of them saw a 
 blue light, with the sky opening to receive them, 
 and already they floated through the infinite space. 
 And some heard the song which flows from the world 
 beyond, where God sits with the righteous and expounds 
 to them the Torah. And the children thought a 
 great, great Yom Kippur had come, that the great 
 Teacher Moses was about to arrive, that King David 
 would play on his harp, and another moment and 
 Messiah the King would come galloping on his white 
 steed. There he comes galloping right out of the 
 clouds, and everybody is waiting for him, and the next 
 moment he will be here descending from the clouds. 
 
 And fear was transformed into joy. A profound, 
 infinite joy united them all. Fathers, mothers and 
 children came together, and the whole multitude be- 
 
KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 205 
 
 came as one family. The men held each other by 
 their girdles, the children clung to their mothers, and 
 the entire community gathered close about their 
 rabbis and cantors. And the spirit of festiveness 
 became exceedingly great, and, no one knows how, but 
 one of the multitude suddenly began to chant the 
 Praise Service: 
 
 Hallelujah. 
 Praise ye the name of the Lord; 
 Give praise, O ye servants of the Lord... 
 
 The cantors took up the Praise Service, and sang 
 the verses of the Psalms in the holiday tune. The 
 Praise Service roused the Jews to such a pitch of 
 enthusiasm that they all caught up the tune, and the 
 entire community, men, women and children, made 
 the orchard ring with the festive song: 
 
 From the rising of the sun unto the going 
 down thereof 
 
 The Lord’s name is to be praised. 
 
 The Lord is high above ali nations, 
 
 His glory is above the heavens. 
 
 Who is like unto the Lord our God, 
 
 That is enthroned on high? 
 
 And the Jews took no note of how the orchard be- 
 came filled with Cossacks and Tatars. Some of the 
 newcomers were half naked, their bodies bulging out, 
 in their hands nail-studded clubs. Others carried 
 crooked swords, and the Tatars, through their small, 
 half-closed eyes, peered at the women and girls and 
 
206 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 children. The Jews saw no one. They were all 
 huddled together like a flock of sheep in a storm, the 
 women and children in the center, and around them 
 the men holding each other by the girdles. 
 
 Out of my straits I called upon the Lord; 
 He answered me with great enlargement. 
 The Lord is for me, I will not fear; 
 
 What can man do unto me? 
 
 The Lord is for me as my helper; 
 
 And I shall gaze upon them that hate me! 
 
 A sound of trumpets was heard in the orchard. 
 The Cossacks shouted hurrah, and made way for a 
 a Cossack of small stature. On that hot Ellul day 
 he wore a long fur cloak and a fur hat with a large 
 tuft of feathers. The sun was hot and the long fur 
 cloak trailed behind him. A Greek Catholic priest 
 in a silk skirt walked behind him, holding aloft a 
 large cross. A choir of church-singers, headed by one 
 carrying a banner with a sacred image graven upon 
 it, followed the priest. The Jews saw neither the 
 Cossack leader Krivonos nor the church procession. 
 They closed their eyes so as not to see the cross and 
 the sacred Christian image, and raised their voices 
 louder as they sang the Psalms: 
 
 All nations compass me about; 
 
 Verily, in the name of the Lord I will cut 
 them off. 
 
 They compass me about, yea, they compass 
 me about; 
 
KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 207 
 
 Verily, in the name of the Lord I will cut 
 them off. 
 
 They compass me about like bees; 
 
 They are quenched as the fire of thorns; 
 
 Verily, in the name of the Lord I will cut 
 them off. 
 
 The Jewish voices mingled with the church choir, 
 and it was as though the murderer and his victim were 
 together intoning to God a song of praise in the glorious 
 sunlight. The church choir soon became silent. The 
 priest took the banner with the sacred image and 
 stuck the pole into the earth. Ona green knoll near 
 the banner the small, sickly Cossack who was per- 
 ‘spiring in the long fur cloak, took his stand. Krivo- 
 nos’ face was gloomy and impassive like the face of 
 asick man. Fora minute he gazed upon the compact 
 Jewish multitude holding each other’s hands, their 
 song swelling louder and louder with ever greater joy 
 and ecstasy, seeing neither him nor the sacred image 
 nor the Cossacks standing around them with swords, 
 pikes and clubs, as though they were somewhere else, 
 seeing other things and hearing other voices, and 
 knowing nothing of what was going on around them. 
 
 Krivonos was frightened by the tempestuous singing 
 of the Jews. He was frightened by the ecstasy which 
 shone in their faces, and remained standing in be- 
 wilderment, not knowing what to do. His sickly 
 face became agitated and his little eyes opened wide 
 with an expression of fear. The priest handed him 
 the cross. 
 
208 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 Krivonos did not know what to do with the cross. 
 He looked with fear, now at the Cossacks, now at 
 the Jews. At length he lifted the cross high above 
 his head, and, with that gesture, his self-assurance 
 came back to him. 
 
 ‘Jews!’ he cried, ‘‘Whoever will come near the 
 flag and bow down before the cross shall live!” 
 
 The Jews did. not hear his words. They did not 
 even see him who stood there and spoke to them. 
 None of them glanced even once at Krivonos or the 
 Cossacks. Again their voices resounded joyously 
 among the trees and mounted into the brilliant sky: 
 
 The voice of rejoicing and salvation is in the 
 tents of the righteous; 
 The right hand of the Lord doeth valiantly. 
 
 ‘Jews, I call on you again! Do you not hear me? 
 He who wishes to live, let him come to the flag and 
 bow down before the cross!”’ 
 
 The right hand of the Lord is exalted; 
 The right hand of the Lord doeth valiantly. 
 
 The song of the Jews rang out louder and more 
 resonant in the orchard. 
 
 Krivonos stood bewildered and did not know what 
 todo. He looked in perplexity at the priest. 
 
 “It’s Satan whom they are sending against you. 
 Drive him off and do the work of God,”’ said the priest 
 to the trembling Krivonos, and made over him the sign 
 of the cross three times. 
 
KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 209 
 
 “For the last time I call upon you: Whoever will 
 accept the Christian faith shall live. Come here to the 
 cross!” 
 
 This is the day which the Lord hath made; 
 We will rejoice and be glad in it. 
 This is the day which the Lord hath made; 
 We will rejoice and be glad in it. 
 
 This was the reply the Jews made in joyous song. 
 And again Krivonos remained standing, not knowing 
 what to do, and looked with bewilderment at the priest. 
 
 “Do the work of God,” said the priest, again and 
 again making the sign of the cross over him. 
 
 “Cossacks! The Jews! At them! Hurrah!” 
 
 The shout of ‘ Hurrah!” rang through the orchard, 
 and from every nook of it Cossacks rushed out upon 
 the Jews. Some carried crooked swords, others long 
 pikes, still others nail-studded clubs. And they fell 
 upon the Jews. 
 
 The Jews embraced each other, husbands, wives and 
 children clasped in each other’s arms, and they 
 cried in unison: 
 
 “‘Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is One!” 
 
 For a moment the cry to God seemed to rise above 
 the shouting of the Cossacks. But one by one they 
 were silenced, snuffed out like the flames of candles. 
 And amid the trampled grass and broken branches 
 were stretched out whole families: fathers, mothers, 
 and children. Their blood became intermingled and 
 their souls rose up together. They died clasped in 
 
210 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 each other’s arms together intoning the ‘‘Shema 
 Yisroel!” 
 
 Fourteen hundred men, women and children were 
 slaughtered that day in that orchard of Tulchin by 
 the Cossacks. The rest were led away by the Tatars 
 to the slave-markets. But not a single one of them 
 purchased his life with his faith, 
 
 Under a tree, in the trampled grass and amid broken 
 branches, lay the body of the parnas of Zlochov. 
 His eyes were open and turned heaven-ward. Even 
 now, with all the pallor of its lips, his face, which had 
 aged considerably in the past few months, revealed 
 strength and vitality, and it was hard to believe that 
 the tanned face with the rough, peeling skin was dead. 
 For there shone on the face the most tranquil and 
 wholesome of smiles. 
 
 And perhaps the reason for that was that near him 
 lay Yocheved. But how her face looked can not be 
 known, because she kept it buried in his bosom... 
 
 The orchard was as silent as the steppe. In the 
 grass and amid broken branches, trampled fruit and 
 dry leaves, bodies lay strewn, trampled and crushed 
 like the fruits of the trees. One might think there 
 lay only bundles of garments bespattered with mud 
 and blood. Only where a face appeared, either of 
 a man with blood-clotted ear-locks, or of a woman with 
 dove-like eyes sealed, or of a sleeping child, there 
 shone forth the calm, demure smile of a profound 
 inner bliss. It was as though the people lived on, and 
 
KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 211 
 
 saw something in their new life, and heard something, 
 not of this world and not of this earth. 
 
 On the green knoll the Christian flag fluttered as 
 though ashamed. Krivonos had forgotten to take it 
 with him when he went into the city to massacre the 
 Christian Polish population. 
 
 
 
CHAPTER FIFTEEN 
 IN THE ORCHARD 
 
 All day the orchard of Yerem’s mother was fragrant 
 with honey. The bees buzzed in and out of the bee- 
 hives, which were built in hollow trees, and swarmed 
 about the white, sun-bathed honey flowers with which 
 the entire field of the orchard was covered. The 
 branches of the trees sagged under the loads of ripe 
 plums which kept falling to the ground. They were 
 left there to rot in the grass and emitted the sharp 
 odor of decaying fruit. Several sheep wandered about 
 the orchard with long black wool and stupefied ex- 
 pressions, who seemed to bore themselves with nib- 
 bling the grass and, out of boredom, licked each other 
 with their long tongues. A swarm of little ducks 
 arrived on the scene together, like a deputation of 
 respectable housewives on an important mission, sway- 
 ing their fat little bodies on their short legs. For no 
 reason at all, a goose suddenly flapped in, its wings 
 spread out awkwardly, and started off with a great 
 outcry; but suddenly coming upon the dog Bugo, 
 whom she woke up from his sleep, she reeled back in 
 great fear, and in order to avoid unpleasant develop- 
 ments, she went off in another direction, folded her 
 wings, and finally calmed herself. 
 
 In the orchard, among the sheep, the ducks, the 
 geese and other domestic birds and beasts, Deborah 
 
IN THE ORCHARD 213 
 
 wandered about. On her feet she wore little shackles, 
 which Yerem had placed there in order to prevent her 
 from escaping, and that he might always hear her 
 footsteps. And instead of her own headdress, she 
 already wore a Cossack veil on her head, which con- 
 cealed her face. She roamed listlessly about the gard- 
 den, and the bells rang mournfully in time to her 
 slow footsteps. And in this manner, she came to the 
 brook, which ran through the orchard, and sitting 
 down on the bank, gazed into the water. 
 
 But Yerem, who watched her footsteps, followed 
 her. Slowly he came up to the brook, and sat down 
 near her. 
 
 “Why are you still sad, pretty Jew girl? You are 
 still unable to forget your people. You have cast a 
 spell over me and you have poisoned my heart. Woe 
 is me, what will I do?” 
 
 “Be silent, Yerem, you have promised me, have you 
 not, that until the wedding you will not torment me, 
 and will let me bewail my people?” 
 
 “Yes, that is true; true, I did promise you. But 
 my heart becomes as withered as a parched spring 
 only from looking at you. And you refuse to eat our 
 bread. . You insult our food and eat only what your 
 nurse brings you,—fruits and vegetables. And you 
 are already my bride, are you not?” 
 
 “I promised my dead, Yerem, to observe their law 
 until I shall leave them. Oh Yerem, let me observe 
 my law. For you are good, and you love me.”’ 
 
 “Yes, my love for you is terrible, Deborah. Because 
 of you I shalldie very young. I will commit crimes for 
 
214 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 you. I could kill my own brother for you. Say it, 
 and J will go with you to the end of the world. We 
 will settle on a lonely island, a little brook will run 
 in front of our house and red poppies will blossom be- 
 fore our windows. And I will be your peasant and 
 you will be my queen. Oh! Queen mine, little angel 
 mine, you pure dove, what is this power that you have? 
 Your eyes are like*those of a dove, and they are break- 
 ing my heart and I could die here, on this spot.” 
 
 The young peasant bowed before her and, burying 
 his face in his hands, he suddenly broke into sobbing 
 like a little child. 
 
 “Calm yourself, Yerem. You are good, and I like 
 you. Your heart is good. Calm yourself, Yerem.” 
 And she stroked his hair with her hand as a mistress 
 strokes her dog. 
 
 “Oh, you white little lamb of mine, Oh, you dove 
 mine, why do you torment me so, my love? Why 
 do you torture my heart so? Oh, make an end of 
 my life altogether.”’ 
 
 “Oh, you will live, Yerem, you are young and strong 
 and you are good.” 
 
 ‘“‘But of what good is my life to me, if I do not know 
 when you will be mine? You lay it off from day to 
 day, and love gnaws at my heart as the worm at the 
 tree, and I am withering away. Tell me, my angel, 
 where will I build my house? Near what river and 
 in what land?” 
 
 “Oh, Yerem, you will not have to wait long, not 
 much longer,’’ she said sadly. 
 
 “Tell me when?” 
 
IN THE ORCHARD 215 
 
 “You promised me faithfully that you will not tor- 
 ment me, for you love me.”’ 
 
 “Good, I am silent now. If you wish it, say it; 
 if not, tug away at my soul, tug away at my heart. 
 Let it gnaw and gnaw until I die.’”’” And the peasant 
 dug his face into the grass. 
 
 ‘Soon now the end will come, only wait a little, 
 Yerem. It will be soon now, it will be soon.’’ She 
 calmed him by laying her cool, white hand on his head, 
 and her burning eyes sought some place in the distance. 
 
 He watched over her like the apple of his eye, and 
 followed her footsteps like a faithful slave. The 
 Cossacks and peasants made a laughing stock of him, 
 taunted him for sticking to his Jew girl, and a rumor 
 began to circulate that the Jew girl had cast a spell 
 over him: it could mean nothing else. 
 
 One day Yerem returned from the city and brought 
 something for Deborah. ; 
 
 “‘ All the Jews and Poles of Tulchin have been killed, 
 not a single one has been left alive,’’ he told her. 
 
 “How do you know, Yerem?” Deborah asked him. 
 
 “The peasants in the city reported it. They 
 brought there a great many articles, which they had 
 taken from the Jews, and here I have brought you 
 something also, my pretty Jew girl. I bought it from 
 a peasant for you. I gave him a sheepskin coat for 
 its 
 
 And Yerem took out of a shawl a pair of golden 
 slippers and gave them to her. 
 
 “They say that the Jews buy such slippers for their 
 
216 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 brides and that the Jew girls like very much to wear 
 them, so I bought them for you, my pretty Jew girl.”’ 
 
 Deborah took the slippers and examined them. She 
 recognized them. They were the, slippers which 
 Shlomo had brought her from Lublin when he came 
 home from the yeshivah. 
 
 ‘How did you come by them?”’ Deborah asked him. 
 
 “Bought them from a peasant. He found them on 
 a dead Jew whom they had killed in Tulchin. The 
 Jew held them clasped to his heart.” 
 
 ‘Was he a young man, that Jew, or an old one?” 
 Deborah asked him. 
 
 ‘“‘T do not know, my pretty Jew girl. He did not 
 tell me. But why have you become so pale, my little 
 dove?” 
 
 “‘ Afterwards, afterwards, I will tell you. The nurse, 
 I want the nurse!” 
 
 “What ails you?) Why are you so pale, little angel 
 mine, dovelet mine? Why?” ‘The young peasant 
 asked amazed. 
 
 “ Afterwards, I will tell you everything. Oh, Yerem, 
 soon, very soon, will be my wedding. Only for these 
 slippers have I waited. Now the end will come soon. 
 Nurse!” 
 
 ‘Nurse!’ Yerem called. 
 
 And the old nurse barely had time to run out of 
 the orchard, where she was feeding the chickens, when 
 Deborah fell down on the lawn. 
 
 “What ails her?” the peasant asked the nurse. 
 
IN THE ORCHARD 217 
 
 The nurse saw the slippers in Deborah’s hands and 
 uttered a great cry: 
 
 “Lord, have mercy!” and caught up Deborah in 
 her arms. 
 
 Yerem stood by in amazement. 
 
CHAPTER SIXTEEN 
 THE GOLDEN SLIPPERS 
 
 The same evening the little, white honey flowers 
 opened their petals and the garden was sweet with 
 the fragrance of honey. Fireflies flashed and flickered 
 in the air like souls astray. Far out on the steppe, 
 little fires darted up here and there and died away. 
 Each red poppy-head flared up. The stars huddled 
 close together and the air shone with a supernatural 
 light as though it were full of invisible bodies come 
 floating out of another world. 
 
 Deborah stood in the orchard near the bonfire which 
 Yerem had lighted. From the hut came the strum- : 
 ming of a “lyre”? which astray “‘ancient’’ was playing, 
 as he sang a ballad to the assembled peasants. Drun- 
 ken cries, weeping and laughter, also came fromthe 
 hut where the peasants had collected all the loot which 
 they had stolen from the Jews of Tulchin. They were 
 dividing this loot and drinking Jewish wine. And 
 the old man played for them on the lyre. 
 
 Deborah stood near the fire, the shackles on her 
 ankles ringing with every move she made. She stood 
 like a young sapling, her eyes turned toward the stars. 
 And she spoke as if she saw some one: 
 
 “Soon I shall come to you, my husband, my chosen 
 one. I see youinthelight. Your arms are stretched 
 
THE GOLDEN SLIPPERS 219 
 
 out tome. Take me to yourself, my husband, my 
 chosen one. I long for you.” 
 
 She saw a blue sea flooded with light, and star- 
 studded boats floating about. They are all sailing 
 to the same shore. It is so light there. Impossible 
 to look into the light. What a great light is there! 
 The infinite, the everlasting is there! God is there, 
 and all are floating straight into the great light. In 
 every boat there is a Jewish family. She knows them 
 all, all who arein the boats. And she seeks among the 
 boats. And now she sees him. He is waiting for her 
 in his boat. The others have all floated away. He 
 alone is waiting. And now she calls to him: 
 
 “Shlomo, Shlomo, wait for me. I come, I come, 
 I come.’’ And she stretched out her arms towards 
 the little boat in the sky. 
 
 “‘Whom do you see? Whom are you speaking to? 
 What ails you, beautiful Jew girl?” 
 
 “Do not touch me. I am fire, you'll catch fire 
 from me. See I am burning. I ama torch and you 
 will burn yourself!’’ 
 
 Her eyes blazed and her face caught the light of 
 the shimmering stars. Her supple young form, draped 
 in light colored shawls, seemed to have been kindled 
 in the flames of the fire. She appeared to be burning. 
 
 Yerem looked at Deborah and did not recognize 
 her. It seemed to him that he had once seen her 
 somewhere, but he could not remember where. Then 
 something like a great light rose up before him. 
 
 “IT know you! I know who you are! Oh, I know, 
 sinful soul that I am! Oh! Oh!’ And he sank to 
 
220 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 his knees before Deborah and began to pray as one 
 prays before a holy ikon. 
 
 “Oh, Lord, have mercy!’ And he buried his face 
 in his hands and began to weep. 
 
 “T know. Now, I know. I have recognized you. 
 You are a holy one, you are a saint. I saw you in 
 church. On the holy ikon I saw you. Oh, I know 
 now, sinful soukthat Iam. Have mercy, have mercy”’! 
 the peasant stammered. 
 
 “Be not afraid, Yerem. You aregood. You have 
 a good heart. Be not afraid.” 
 
 “Oh, sinful soul that Iam! Have mercy.” And 
 the young peasant jumped up and ran away from her. 
 And with a great noise he entered the hut where the 
 peasants were assembled. | 
 
 “Peasants,” he cried, ‘‘God is in the orchard, woe 
 unto us!” 
 
 The peasants put away their wine. The lyre be- 
 came silent. They turned pale and asked each other: 
 
 ‘‘What is he saying?” 
 
 But Yerem was frightened and wept like a little 
 child. He pointed to the orchard. 
 
 “There, outside!’ 
 
 The peasants became infected with his dread. 
 Stealthily and in great awe they approached the door 
 of the hut and looked out. 
 
 “Where?” 
 
 ‘There, near the fire. Don’t you see? Look! Look!’ 
 
 “Your Jew girl is standing there, not God.”’ 
 
 “I’ve recognized her. She came down from the 
 ikon. It is God!’ 
 
THE GOLDEN SLIPPERS 221 
 
 “She has cast a spell over you, she has bewitched 
 you. Don’t you see it’s your Jew girl, not God? 
 Do not sin.” 
 
 “Peasants, I’ve recognized her. I looked deep into 
 her face and recognized her. She isasaint. She has 
 come down from the holy ikon.”’ 
 
 “Let her prove that she is God.” 
 
 ““A miracle!’’ 
 
 “Let her perform a miracle and we’ll believe that she 
 is God. If not, then your accursed Jew girl is a witch. 
 Then she ought to be burned.”’ 
 
 “She has bewitched thelad. Into the fire with her!” 
 
 “‘ Peasants, be silent and do not sin,’’ Yerem exclaim- 
 ed; and approaching Deborah, he knelt before her from 
 a distance and made obeisance before her as before a 
 holy ikon. 
 
 “Tell them, show them that I am not mistaken. 
 Let them believe in God. Oh, prove to them, holy 
 one, prove to them that you are God.” 
 
 For a long interval Deborah was silent. Then she 
 turned her luminous face to Yerem and said: 
 
 “Call the nurse, Yerem.”’ 
 
 But the nurse had been near her for a long time. 
 She lay at her feet, her face hidden in Deborah’s 
 dress, and wept. 
 
 ‘“‘Go, nurse, and bring me the golden slippers,”’ said 
 Deborah in Yiddish. 
 
 “Oh, my child, my little dove, Ican not. What are 
 you going to do?” 
 
 “T command you, nurse. Bring me the golden 
 slippers.” 
 
Zoe KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 The nurse went to her room and brought the golden 
 slippers. 
 
 “Do not weep. Be merry. Put the slippers on 
 me as you used to do when I was a little child. Do 
 you remember how you sent me to him once when 
 he was a little boy with a pear and an apple?” 
 She whispered to the nurse. 
 
 “Oh, I understand, I understand. But what are 
 you going to do?” 
 
 “Why, lam going to him. He is waiting there for 
 me in his little boat to sail away with me to heaven.” 
 And she embraced the nurse and kissed her. 
 
 The nurse withdrew from her, and Deborah, the 
 golden slippers on her feet, said to the trembling Yerem: 
 
 “Yerem, take your flint-lock and fire at me.” 
 
 A dread fell upon the peasants. They became in- 
 fected with the panic which possessed Yerem. De- 
 borah’s words terrified them. Some began to believe 
 that they were in the presence of something super- 
 natural. And one of them sank to his knees and 
 mumbled: 
 
 “Lord, have mercy!” 
 
 And Yerem trembled and shook with fear. 
 
 ‘‘No, no, I'll not doit. Iam afraid.” 
 
 “Be not afraid, Yerem, no harm can come to me. 
 I am not here any more. I am already there, in 
 heaven. I have put on the golden slippers which he 
 sent me from heaven so that I might come to him, 
 Go, Yerem, take your flint-lock and aim at my heart.”’ 
 
 But the peasant continued tosob, and he stammered: 
 
 “No, no, I am afraid, have mercy.”’ 
 
THE GOLDEN SLIPPERS VIR 
 
 “T command you, Yerem. Go and bring the flint- 
 lock, I will stand here near the fire so that you can 
 see where to aim. Have I not told you that no harm 
 can come to me? I command you. Do as I have 
 said.’’ | 
 
 Illumined by the flames of the fire, she looked like 
 a young goddess who commands. And the fear of 
 God fell upon the peasants. They sank to their knees. 
 One of them began to chant and the rest joined him: 
 
 “Lord, have mercy! Lord, have mercy!” 
 
 One of the peasants handed the flint-lock to the 
 kneeling Yerem. Deborah in the golden slippers 
 stood in the light of the fire. 
 
 ‘Shoot, Yerem!’’ 
 
 The peasants became silent. They remained kneel- 
 ing on the ground. 
 
 A report was heard. A little cloud of smoke rose 
 up and caught the light of the fire. 
 
 ‘“‘Aim well, Yerem. See, no harm can come to me.’ 
 
 Yerem discharged the weapon a second time. And 
 again a little cloud of smoke rose into the air. 
 
 Deborah began to sway and to sink to her knees. 
 
 “She falls!’ 
 
 “‘Blood!”’ 
 
 “The accursed Jew girl! She has cheated us!’’ 
 the peasants shouted, rising to their feet and running 
 towards Deborah with clenched fists. 
 
 “‘Accursed Jew girl! Cheated us!” 
 
 But Yerem now stood guard over her. He held 
 in his arms her swaying body, from which the blood 
 flowed into the flames of the fire. 
 
 9 
 
224 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 “Why have you done it, beautiful Jew girl? I 
 loved you so?’ He stammered. 
 
 ‘Forgive me, Yerem, forgive me. I thank you 
 for sending me to him. I knew you would send me 
 to him. You are good, Yerem.”’ 
 
 ““Give her to me, she is my child!” cried the nurse, 
 and running up she caught Deborah in her arms. 
 
 Deborah now saw the star-studded boat. Shlomo 
 was taking her by the hand to help her embark. 
 
 ‘Farewell, nurse,’”’ she stammered. 
 
 ‘“A happy journey, my child,” the nurse replied 
 in Yiddish. 
 
 And as though wanting to be alone, Deborah with- 
 drew from Yerem, turned away from the nurse. She 
 laid her head on the grass and the peasants who sur- 
 rounded her heard from her lips the words which in 
 those days they heard so often from the Jews: 
 
 ‘““Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is 
 One!” 
 
 And she became silent. 
 
 In the city of Lublin, on the occasion of the annual 
 fair, there came together that year the Assembly of 
 the Four Countries. A great task lay before the 
 Assembly. A great many Jews from the whole of 
 Ukraine had congregated in Lublin. Fathers came 
 seeking their children who had been carried off by the 
 Cossacks, and many women were there who did not 
 know whether they were wives or widows. And men 
 were there whose wives had been carried off by the 
 Tatars, and fatherless orphans and Jews whose settle- 
 
THE GOLDEN SLIPPERS 225 
 
 ments had been destroyed and who had roamed all 
 over the country unable to find a resting place. 
 
 The city was full of refugees. Many found their 
 kin whom they had long believed dead. Fathers 
 found their children, husbands their wives, brothers 
 their sisters. The Assembly strove to reconstruct 
 Jewish life, to re-unite the families which the Cossacks 
 and Tatars had cut asunder. It issued a decree 
 commanding all Jews from the towns which had been 
 destroyed toreturn and rebuild the Jewish communities, 
 for the Polish king with his armies had driven the 
 Cossacks back to the Russians, and Chmelnitzki was 
 a captive in the hands of the Tatars. The Assembly 
 collected a ransom fund from the wealthy and sent 
 it to Turkey for the ransom of the Jewish captives. 
 It granted permission to husbands to take back, for 
 the sake of the children, the wives who had been held 
 in captivity by the Cossacks. And it received back 
 into Judaism those whom the Cossacks had compelled 
 to embrace a strange faith. 
 
 Among the refugees was Shlomele also. He had 
 been ransomed by the Turkish Jews, together with 
 other captives of the Tatars, who had brought him 
 to the slave market at Constantinople. The Jews 
 of Turkey learned that Shlomele was a graduate of 
 the famous yeshivah of Lublin, so they wanted him 
 to stay in Turkey, where they thought to open a 
 yeshivah for the study of the Talmud in the Polish 
 manner by the method of pilpul. But Shlomo 
 longed greatly for his own people in Poland. Soa 
 Jewish merchant of Saloniki took him aboard his 
 
226 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 
 
 vessel, which was bound with a cargo of merchandise 
 for Naples. In Italy, also, they sought to detain 
 him that he might teach young men the Talmud in 
 the Polish manner. But Shlomo insisted on going 
 home to Poland. So the Italian rabbis, some of them 
 his comrades who had studied with him in the yeshivah 
 of Lublin, gave him money and clothes and sent him 
 away to Germany. 
 
 For a long time he wandered about in Germany. 
 There the terrible news reached him of what the 
 Cossacks had done to the Jews of Tulchin, of Bar, and 
 of the other towns. Finally he came to Poland and 
 hastened to the fair in Lublin in the hope of getting 
 some news of his own kin. 
 
 In Lublin he came upon refugees from Tulchin, 
 from Bar and from other towns, and he learned from 
 some of the forced converts of the death of his father 
 and mother, who had died for the sanctification of 
 His Name together with the other Jews of Tulchin. 
 But no one knew what had become of Deborah—of 
 Deborah or of the Christian nurse. 
 
 But Shlomo knew. He knew that she had gone up 
 to heaven in holiness and purity. In heaven she was, 
 and waiting for him. 
 
 He did not mourn for her. Only a great longing for 
 her took possession of him, and for the day when 
 he would again be with her. 
 
 And he roamed about through the fair of Lublin 
 among the refugees, among the husbands separated 
 from their wives and the wives separated from their 
 husbands, among the widows and the orphans. He 
 
THE GOLDEN SLIPPERS 227 
 
 heard the signs and moans of his people which rose 
 up over the fair. And he pondered deeply on the 
 matter. He sought to understand the meaning of it 
 all. For a minute the meaning escaped him,—he 
 could not understand, and he fell in a state of mel- 
 ancholy. And this caused him deep grief, for it is a 
 matter of common knowledge that melancholy is only 
 one degree removed from doubting. 
 
 And one day he walked in a narrow street in Lublin 
 where the merchants’ stalls were located. And he 
 saw standing before an empty booth an old man who 
 was calling buyers into his booth. And he marvelled 
 greatly, for the booth was empty, there was nothing 
 in it tosell. And he walked into the booth and asked 
 the old man: 
 
 “What do you sell here? Your booth is void and 
 empty, and there is no merchandise in it.”’ 
 
 And the old man answered: 
 
 “sell faith?’ 
 
 And he looked intently at the old man, and the old 
 man appeared to him familiar as though he had seen 
 him before.... 
 
 THE END 
 

 
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