The Collected Stories of Isaac Bashevis Singer

by Isaac Bashevis Singer

  “No, I won’t stand for it,” she would complain. “The mere thought of it makes me sick.” Or she would cry out suddenly: “Not even the Polish nobility make such an exhibition of themselves.”

  But Lise knew how to answer her. “Wasn’t Jacob permitted to show his love for Rachel?” the erudite Lise asked her mother. “Didn’t Solomon have a thousand wives?”

  “Don’t you dare to compare yourself to those saints!” Shifrah Tammar shouted back. “You’re not fit to mention their names.”

  Actually, in her youth Shifrah Tammar had not been very strict in her observances but now she watched over her daughter closely and saw to it that she obeyed all the laws of purity, and would even accompany Lise to the ritual bath to make sure that her immersions were conducted in the prescribed manner. Now and again mother and daughter would quarrel on Friday nights because Lise was late lighting the candles. After the wedding ceremony the bride had had her hair shaved off and begun wearing the customary silk kerchief, but Shifrah Tammar discovered that Lise’s hair had grown back and that she would often sit before a mirror now, combing and braiding her curling locks. Shifrah Tammar also exchanged sharp words with her son-in-law. She was displeased that he went so seldom to the study house and spent his time strolling through orchards and fields. Then it became apparent that he had a taste for food and was extremely lazy. He wanted stuffed derma with fritters daily and he made Lise add honey to his milk. As if this were not enough, he’d have plum stews and seed cookies along with raisins and cherry juice sent to his bedroom. At night when they retired, Lise would lock and bolt the bedroom door and Shifrah Tammar would hear the young couple laughing. Once she thought she heard the pair running barefoot across the floor; plaster fell from the ceiling; the chandeliers trembled. Shifrah Tammar had been forced to send a maid upstairs to knock on the door and bid the young lovers be quiet.

  Shifrah Tammar’s wish had been that Lise would become pregnant quickly and endure the agonies of labor. She had hoped that when Lise became a mother she would be so busy nursing the child, changing its diapers, tending it when it became ill, that she would forget her silliness. But months passed and nothing happened. Lise’s face grew more wan, and her eyes burned with a strange fire. The gossip in Kreshev was that the couple were studying the Cabala together.

  “It’s all very strange,” people whispered to each other. “Something weird is going on there.”

  And the old women sitting on their porches and darning socks or spinning flax had a perpetually interesting topic of conversation. And they listened sharply with their half-deafened ears and shook their heads in indignation.

  VII

  Secrets of the Chamber

  It is now time to reveal the secrets of that bedchamber. There are some for whom it is not enough to satisfy their desires; they must, in addition, utter all sorts of vain words and let their minds wallow in passion. Those who pursue this iniquitous path are inevitably led to melancholy and they enter the Forty-nine Gates of Uncleanliness. The wise men long ago pointed out that everyone knows why a bride steps under the wedding canopy but he who dirties this act through words loses his place in the world to come. The clever Shloimele because of his great learning and his interest in philosophy began to delve more and more into the questions of “he and she.” For example, he would suddenly ask while caressing his wife, “Suppose you had chosen that man from Lublin instead of me, do you think you would be lying with him here now?” Such remarks first shocked Lise and she would reply, “But I didn’t make that choice. I chose you.” Shloimele, however, would not be denied an answer and he would go on talking and proposing even more obscene questions until Lise would finally be forced to admit that if indeed she had picked her husband from Lublin she would unquestionably be lying in his arms and not in those of Shloimele. As if this weren’t enough he would also nag her about what she would do if he were to die. “Well,” he wanted to know, “would you marry again?” No, no other man could possibly interest her, Lise would insist, but Shloimele would slyly argue with her and through skillful sophistry would undermine her convictions.

  “Look, you’re still young and attractive. Along would come the matchmaker and shower you with proposals and your father would just not hear of your staying single. So there would be another wedding canopy and another celebration and off you’d be to another marriage bed.”

  It was useless for Lise to beg him not to talk in such a way since she found the whole subject painful and, in addition, of no value, since it was impossible to foresee the future. No matter what she said, Shloimele continued his sinful words, for they stimulated his passion and at length she grew to enjoy them too, and they were soon spending half their nights whispering questions and answers and wrangling over matters that were beyond anyone’s knowledge. So Shloimele wanted to know what she would do if she were shipwrecked on a desert island with only the captain, how she would behave herself if she were among African savages. Suppose she were captured by eunuchs and taken to a sultan’s harem, what then? Imagine herself Queen Esther brought before Ahasuerus! And these were only a small part of his imaginings. When she reproached him for being so engrossed in frivolous matters, he undertook the study of Cabala with her, the secrets of intimacy between man and woman and the revelation of conjugal union. Found in Reb Bunim’s house were the books The Tree of Life, The Angel Raziel, and still other volumes of the Cabala and Shloimele told Lise how Jacob, Rachel, Leah, Bilhah, and Zilpah copulate in the higher world, face to face and rump to rump, and the matings of the Holy Father and the Holy Mother, and there were words in these books that simply seemed profane.

  And if this were not enough, Shloimele began to reveal to Lise the powers possessed by evil spirits—that they were not only satans, phantoms, devils, imps, hobgoblins and harpies, but that they also held sway over the higher worlds, as for example Nogah, a blend of sanctity and impurity. He produced alleged evidence that the Evil Host had some connection with the world of emanations, and one could infer from Shloimele’s words that Satan and God were two equal powers and that they waged constant combat and neither could defeat the other. Another claim of his was that there was no such thing as a sin, since a sin, just as a good deed, can be either big or small and if it is elevated it rises to great heights. He assured her that it is preferable for a man to commit a sin with fervor, than a good deed without enthusiasm, and that yea and nay, darkness and light, right and left, heaven and hell, sanctity and degradation were all images of the divinity and no matter where one sank one remained in the shadow of the Almighty, for beside His light, nothing else exists. He proffered all this information with such rhetoric and strengthened his argument with so many examples that it was a delight to hear him. Lise’s thirst to share his company and absorb such revelations increased. Occasionally she felt that Shloimele was luring her from the path of righteousness. His words terrified her and she no longer felt mistress of herself; her soul seemed captive and she thought only what he wanted her to think. But she hadn’t the will to stand up to him and she said to herself: “I will go where he leads no matter what happens.” Soon he gained such mastery over her that she obeyed him implicitly. And he ruled her at will. He commanded her to strip naked before him, crawl on all fours like an animal, dance before him, sing melodies that he composed half in Hebrew, half in Yiddish, and she obeyed him.

  By this time it is quite obvious that Shloimele was a secret disciple of Sabbatai Zevi. For even though the False Messiah was long dead, secret cults of his followers remained in many lands. They met at fairs and markets, recognized each other through secret signs and thus remained safe from the wrath of the other Jews who would excommunicate them. Many rabbis, teachers, ritual slaughterers and other ostensibly respectable folk were included in this sect. Some of them posed as miracle workers, wandering from town to town passing out amulets into which they had introduced not the sacred name of God but unclean names of dogs and evil spirits, Lilith and Asmodeus as well as the name of Sabbatai Zevi himself. All
this they managed with such cunning that only the members of the brotherhood could appreciate their handiwork. It provided them great satisfaction to deceive the pious and create havoc. Thus, one disciple of Sabbatai Zevi arrived at a settlement, announced that he was a thaumaturgist and soon many people came to him with chits upon which they’d written their pleas for advice, their problems and requests. Before the counterfeit miracle worker left town, he played his joke and scattered the notes all over the market-place where they were found by the town rogues, causing disgrace to many. Another cultist was a scribe and placed into the phylacteries, not the passages of law on parchment as prescribed, but filth and goat dung as well as a suggestion that the wearer kiss the scribe’s behind. Others of the sect tortured themselves, bathed in icy water, rolled in snow in the winter, subjected themselves to poison ivy in the summer and fasted from Sabbath day to Sabbath day. But these were depraved as well, they sought to corrupt the principles of the Torah and of the Cabala and each of them in his own fashion paid homage to the forces of evil—and Shloimele was one of them.

  VIII

  Shloimele and Mendel the Coachman

  One day, Shifrah Tammar, Lise’s mother, died. After the seven days of mourning, Reb Bunim returned to his business affairs and Lise and Shloimele were left to themselves. Having purchased a tract of lumber somewhere in Wolhynia, Reb Bunim maintained horses and oxen there as well as peasants to work them, and, when he left, did not take Mendel the coachman with him. The youth remained in Kreshev. It was summertime and Shloimele and Lise often rode through the countryside in the carriage with Mendel driving. When Lise was busy, the two men went out alone. The fresh pine scent invigorated Shloimele. Also, he enjoyed bathing in the river San, and Mendel would wait on him after they drove to a spot where the water was shallow, for eventually Shloimele would be master of the entire estate.

  Thus they became friends. Mendel was nearly two heads taller than Shloimele, and Shloimele admired the coachman’s worldly knowledge. Mendel could swim face-up or -down, tread water, catch a fish in the stream with his bare hands and climb the highest trees by the riverbank. Shloimele was afraid of a single cow, but Mendel would chase a whole herd of cattle and had no fear of bulls. He boasted that he could spend a whole night in a cemetery and spoke of having overpowered bears and wolves which attacked him. He claimed victory over a highwayman who had accosted him. In addition, he could play all sorts of tunes on a fife, imitate a crow’s cawing, a woodpecker’s pecking, cattle’s lowing, sheep’s and goat’s bleating, cat’s mewling, and the chirping of crickets. His stunts amused Shloimele, who enjoyed his company. Also he promised to teach Shloimele horseback riding. Even Lise, who used to ignore Mendel, treated him amiably now, sent him on all sorts of errands and offered him honey cake and sweet brandy, for she was a kindly young woman.

  Once when the two men were bathing in the river, Shloimele noticed Mendel’s physique and admired its masculine attractiveness. His long legs, slim hips, and broad chest all exuded power. After dressing, Shloimele conversed with Mendel, who spoke unrestrainedly of his success among the peasant women, bragging of the women he’d had from nearby villages and the many bastards he had sired. He also numbered among his lovers aristocrats, town women, and prostitutes. Shloimele doubted none of this. When he asked Mendel if he had no fear of retribution, the young man asked what could be done to a corpse. He didn’t believe in life after death. He went on expressing himself heretically. Then, puckering his lips and whistling shrilly, he scampered agilely up a tree, knocking down cones and birds’ nests. While doing this he roared like a lion, so powerfully that the sound carried for miles, echoing from tree to tree as though hundreds of evil spirits responded to his call.

  That night Shloimele told Lise everything that had happened. They discussed the incident in such detail that both of them grew aroused. But Shloimele was not equipped to satisfy his wife’s passion. His ardor was greater than his capability and they had to content themselves with lewd talk. Suddenly Shloimele blurted: “Tell me the truth, Lise my love, how would you like to go to bed with Mendel the coachman?”

  “God save us, what kind of evil talk is this?” she countered. “Have you lost your mind?”

  “Well—? He is a strong and handsome young man—the girls are wild about him …”

  “Shame on you!” Lise cried. “You defile your mouth!”

  “I love defilement!” Shloimele cried, his eyes ablaze. “I am going all the way over to the side of the Host!”

  “Shloimele, I’m afraid for you!” Lise said after a long pause. “You’re sinking deeper and deeper!”

  “One dares everything!” Shloimele said, his knees trembling. “ ‘Since this generation cannot become completely pure, let it grow completely impure!’ ”

  Lise seemed to shrink and for a long while she was silent. Shloimele could scarcely tell whether she slept or was thinking.

  “Were you serious, then?” she asked curiously, her voice muffled.

  “Yes, serious.”

  “And it wouldn’t anger you at all?” she demanded.

  “No … If it brought you pleasure, it would please me as well. You could tell me about it afterwards.”

  “You’re an infidel!” Lise cried out. “A heretic!”

  “Yes, so I am! Elisha the son of Abijah was also a heretic! Whoever looks into the vineyard must suffer the consequences.”

  “You quote the Talmud in answer to everything—watch out, Shloimele! Be on your guard! You’re playing with fire!”

  “I love fire! I love a holocaust … I would like the whole world to burn and Asmodeus to take over the rule.”

  “Be still!” Lise cried. “Or I shall scream for help.”

  “What are you afraid of, foolish one?” Shloimele soothed her. “The thought is not the deed. I study with you, I unfold to you the secrets of the Torah, and you remain naïve. Why do you suppose God ordered Hosea to marry a harlot? Why did King David take Bathsheba from Uriah the Hittite and Abigail from Nabal? Why did he, in his old age, order Abeishag the Shunammite brought to him? The noblest ancients practiced adultery. Sin is cleansing! Ah, Lise love, I wish you would obey every whim of mind. I think only of your happiness … Even while I guide you to the abyss …!”

  And he embraced her, caressed and kissed her. Lise lay exhausted and confused by his oratory. The bed beneath her vibrated, the walls shook and it seemed to her that she was already swaying in the net that I, the Prince of Darkness, had spread to receive her.

  IX

  Adonijah, the Son of Hagith

  Strange events followed. Usually Lise did not see very much of Mendel the coachman. She paid little attention to him when they did meet. But since the day Shloimele had spoken to her about Mendel, she seemed to run into him everywhere. She’d walk into the kitchen and find him fooling around with the maid. Confronting Lise, he would grow silent. Soon she began to see him everywhere, in the barn, on horseback, riding toward the river San. Erect as a Cossack he sat, disdainful of saddle or reins. Once when Lise needed water and could not find the maid, she took the pitcher and headed for the well. Suddenly, out of nowhere, Mendel the coachman materialized to help her draw water. One evening as Lise strolled through the meadow (Shloimele happened to be at the study house), the old communal billy goat met her. Lise tried to walk past him, but when she turned off to the right, he blocked her path again. When she turned to the left, he leaped to the left also. At the same time he lowered his pointed horns as if to gore her. Suddenly, rising on his hind legs, he leaned his front legs against her. His eyes were a fiery red, blazing with fury, as if possessed. Lise began to struggle to free herself but he was more powerful than she and almost up-ended her. She screamed and was about to faint when suddenly a loud whistle and the crack of a whip were heard. Mendel the coachman had come upon them, and seeing the struggle, slashed the billy goat across its back with his whip. The thickly knotted thong almost broke the animal’s spine. With a choking bleat, he ran off haphazardly. His legs were t
hickly tufted, tangled with hair. He resembled a wild beast more than a billy goat. Lise was left stunned. For a while, she stared at Mendel silently. Then she shook herself as if waking from a nightmare and said: “Many thanks.”

  “Such a stupid goat!” Mendel exclaimed. “If ever I get my hands on him again I’ll tear his guts out!”

  “What was he after?” Lise asked.

  “Who knows? Sometimes goats will attack a person. But they’ll always go after a woman, never a man!”

  “Why is that?—you must be joking!”

  “No, I’m serious … In a village where I went with the master, there was a billy goat who used to wait for the women as they returned from the ritual bath and attack them. The people asked the rabbi what to do and he ordered the goat slaughtered …”

  “Really? Why did he have to be killed?”

  “So he could no longer gore the women …”

  Lise thanked him again and thought it miraculous that he had come when he did. In his gleaming boots and riding breeches, whip in hand, the young man faced her with knowing and insolent eyes. Lise was uncertain whether to continue her stroll or return home, since by this time she was afraid of the goat and imagined that it plotted revenge. And the young man, as if reading her mind, offered to escort and protect her. He walked behind her like a guard. After a while, Lise decided to return to the house. Her face was burning, and as she sensed Mendel’s eyes upon her, her ankles rubbed together and she stumbled. Sparks were dancing in front of her.