Part 31 (1/2)

The head of the academy is on old, thin Jew, with a long, pointed beard and old, extinguished eyes; Lemech, his beloved pupil, is a young man, likewise thin, tall, and pale, with black, curling ear-locks, dark, glowing eyes, heavily-ringed, dry lips, and sharp, quivering throat; both with garments open at the breast, with _no_ s.h.i.+rts, and both in rags; the teacher just drags about a pair of peasant boots; the pupil's shoes drop from his sockless feet.

That is all that remains of the celebrated academy!

The impoverished little town sent less and less food, gave fewer and fewer free meals to the poor students, and these crept away elsewhere!

But Reb Yainkil intends to die here, and his pupil remains to close his eyelids!

And these two are often hungry. Eating little means sleeping little, and whole nights without sleep or food incline one to the Kabbalah! If one has to wake whole nights and hunger whole days, one may as well get something by it, if only fasting and flagellations, so long as these open the door to the world of mystery, of spirits, and of angels!

And they have been studying the Kabbalah for some time!

Now they are sitting at the one long table. With everyone else it is ”after dinner,” with them still ”before breakfast.” They are used to that. The teacher rolls his eyes and holds forth; the pupil sits with both hands supporting his head and listens.

”Therein,” said the teacher, ”are many degrees of attainment: one knows a bit of a tune, another half a one, another a whole. The Rebbe of blessed memory knew a whole one with the accompaniment. I,” he added sadly, ”have only been found worthy of a bit like that!”

He measured off a tiny piece of his bony finger and went on:

”There is one kind of tune that must have words, that is a low order of tune. But there is a higher kind: a tune that sings itself, but without words--a pure melody! But _that_ melody must have a voice--and lips, through which the voice issues! And lips, you see, are material things!

”And the voice itself is refined matter, certainly, but matter none the less. Let us say, the voice stands mid-way between the spiritual and the material.

”However that may be, the tune that finds expression through a voice and is dependent on lips is not pure, not entirely pure, not yet really spiritual!

”The real tune sings itself without a voice--it sings itself inside one, in the heart, in the thoughts!

”There you have the meaning of the words of King David: 'All my bones shall say,' etc. It ought to sing in the marrow of the bones, that is where the tune should be--that is the highest praise we can give to G.o.d.

That is no human tone that has been _thought out_! It is a fragment of the melody to which G.o.d created the world, of the soul He breathed into it. Thus sings the Heavenly Family, thus sang the Rebbe, whose memory be blessed!”

The teacher was interrupted by a shock-headed lad with a cord round his waist--a porter. He came into the house-of-study, put down on the table, beside the teacher, a dish of porridge with a piece of bread, said gruffly: ”Reb Tebil sends the teacher some food,” turned his back, and added, as he went out: ”I'll come back presently for the dish.”

Recalled by the rough tone from the divine harmonies, the teacher rose heavily, and went to the basin to wash, dragging his great boots.

He continued to speak as he went, but with less a.s.surance, and the pupil followed him with greedy ears and glowing, dreaming eyes.

”But I,” repeated Reb Yainkil, sadly, ”was not even worthy of understanding to what category it belongs, of knowing under what heading it is cla.s.sified. However,” he added with a smile, ”the initiatory mortifications and purifications, those I _do_ know, and perhaps I will teach them you to-day.”

The pupil's eyes seem about to start from their sockets with eagerness; he keeps his mouth open so as to catch every word. But the teacher is silent, he is was.h.i.+ng his hands; he repeats the ritual formula, comes back to the table and says ”Thou who bringest forth,”[55] with trembling lips.

He lifts the dish with shaking fingers, and the warm steam rises into his face; then he puts it down, takes the spoon in his right hand, and warms the left at the dish's edge; after which he masticates the rest of the bread with some salt between his tongue and his toothless gums.

Having warmed his face with his hands, he wrinkles his forehead, purses his thin lips, and begins to blow the porridge.

The pupil has not taken his eyes off him the whole time, and when the teacher's trembling mouth met the spoonful of porridge, something came over him, and he covered his face with both hands and withdrew within himself.

A few minutes later another boy came in with a bowl of porridge and some bread:

”Reb Ysef sends the pupil some breakfast!”

But the pupil did not remove his hands from his face.