On the Way to the Poorhouse

The Inmates of the Poorhouse all wanted to get rid of her. First of all, it's a shame to share sleeping quarters with a whore. And secondly, she didn't even come from this area. The authorities had confined her in the Janow prison, and while there, she became paralyzed. So what is her connection with the residents of Janow? Still, the Jewish community could not throw a Jewish daughter out into the street, no matter how depraved she was. So they put a straw pallet in a corner of the general dormitory and there she lay. She was dark-skinned, with a youthful face, black burning eyes, brows that converged over the bridge of her nose, prominent cheekbones, a pointed chin and black hair hanging straight to her shoulders. The paupers cursed her and she replied with ten curses for one. They spat at her and she spat back, hissing like a snake: Pox on your tongue, black in the head and green before the eyes, a behind swollen from sitting shiva.... Adept as she was at name calling and profanity, she was also capable of turning on the charm and telling lewd stories about herself to the men. Even though she could not use her legs, the women of Janow were fearful that she might seduce their husbands. Whenever there was an epidemic of smallpox, measles, scarlet fever or croup, the pious matrons of the town went running to the study house, screaming at the elders that it was all a punishment for keeping the whore in a house belonging to the community. But what could they have done with a cripple?

Her name was Tsilka and her Yiddish had the accent of those who lived on the other side of the Vistula. The residents of the poorhouse avoided her like a leper and she ignored them, too. But when the men from the town came to visit her and brought her groats, chicken soup or a half bottle of vodka, she smiled at them sweetly and suggestively. She wore a string of red beads around her neck. Long earrings dangled from her ear lobes. She pushed the quilt down to expose the upper part of her breasts. Occasionally, she let her visitors touch her sick legs. She soon had a group in town who rallied round her. The town toughs warned Zorach, the poorhouse attendant, that if he mistreated Tsilka, they would break his neck. They asked her many questions about her past and she answered them, shamelessly boasting about her sins. She remembered every detail, leaving out nothing. After a while, some of those who were living at the poorhouse made peace with her, because through her they, too, got better food and even some liquor. Those who lay on straw pallets near her began to enjoy her tales. Although they wished her the black plague and eternal hell, they had to admit that her stories shortened the monotonous summer days and the long winter nights. Tsilka maintained that when she was eight years old, a horse dealer enticed her into a stall and there he raped her on a pile of hay and horse dung. Later, when she became an orphan, she began to copulate with butcher boys, coachmen and soldiers. Her town was near the Prussian border and the smugglers of contraband made love to her. Tsilka named all the towns where she was in brothels, spoke about the madams and pimps. Cossack officers preferred her to the other harlots. They danced and drank with her. A crazy squire made her bathe in a wine-filled tub and later drank from it. A rich Russian from Siberia proposed marriage to her if she would convert to the Orthodox faith. But Tsilka refused to become a Christian and to betray the God of Israel. She had no desire to marry that Ivan and bear little Ivans for him. What could he have given her that she didn't have? She wore silken shirts and underwear. She ate marzipan and roasted squabs.

For many years, she was fortunate. She never became pregnant, she never got the clap. Other whores, who began their profession later than she, rotted away in hospitals, but she remained young and beautiful. Suddenly, her luck turned. In a brothel in Lublin, a girl poisoned her procurer. At the investigation, she accused Tsilka of the crime. Tsilka was charged with murder and sent to the Janow prison because the women's section of the Lublin jail was overcrowded. There she spent nine months in solitary confinement in a damp cell full of bedbugs and other vermin. The Lublin investigators had forgotten her. Her papers were misplaced somewhere. The trial never took place They had to free her. But a few days before her release, her legs lost their power and became like wood. Tsilka bragged that the prison guards had affairs with her. In a cell next to her sat a bunch of thieves. One night they gouged out a large hole in the wall and, through this, they copulated with her. Hodel the widow, whose pallet was close to Tsilka's, began to wince, raised her fists in a fury and shouted, "Shut your foul mouth. Your words are deadly venom."

"Sweet venom."

"God waits long and punishes well."

"For my sake, he can wait a little longer," Tsilka answered mockingly.

There was quarreling in Janow because of Tsilka. The community leaders held a meeting on what action was to be taken. She defiled the town. Even the boys in the study house discussed her. After lengthy debates that lasted until dawn, it was decided to send her to the poorhouse in Lublin. The Janow community was ready to pay for her upkeep there. Lublin is a big city and they have many like her there. The old Janow rabbi, Reb Zeinvele, admonished his congregants that one leprous sheep can contaminate the whole flock. He remarked that Satan's aides were everywhere--in the market place, in the tavern, in the study house, even in the cemetery. The situation in Janow had come to such a pass that respectable tradesmen, fathers of children, stood for hours around Tsilka's bed, listening to her obscenities. They brought her so much food and so many delicacies that she gave gifts to those who flattered her. The children in the poorhouse she treated with cookies, raisins, sunflower seeds. She no longer lay on a straw pallet but on a bed with linen. In Janow, it was unheard of for a female to smoke. Tsilka asked for tobacco and cigarette paper and she rolled her own cigarettes and blew smoke rings through her nostrils. How long can a town like Janow stand for such loose conduct? After prolonged negotiations, a letter came from the community of Lublin, stating that Tsilka would be given a cot in the room where the moribund are kept. A screen was to be placed near her bed, so that the others wouldn't have to see her insolent face. Besides the expenses for her maintenance, the Lublin community asked the Janow community to pay for her burial fees in advance, even though Tsilka would be buried behind the fence. When the contents of this letter became known in Janow, the Tsilka followers also gathered at a meeting and one, Berish the musician, who was known as a scoffer, a woman chaser, a vituperator, instigated the rabble. "The so-called upright citizens," he ranted, "are supposed to serve God, but actually they serve only themselves. They have appropriated the best of everything--the brick houses, the eastern wall in the synagogue, the stores in the market place, the fat women, even the best-located graves. However, the moment a shoemaker, a tailor or a comber of pig bristles tries to raise his head, he is immediately threatened with excommunication and a bed of nails in Gehenna. We will not allow them to send Tsilka away to Lublin, where she will rot away while alive. We can take care of her here. It's true that she's a fallen woman. But who are those who fall into sin? Not the pampered daughters of the rich, may they be consumed in fire. It's our children who are fair prey to every lecher. Our daughters work as servants in the houses of the wealthy, and their sons, who are supposed to study all day long, creep into their beds at night. The mothers of these privileged boys pretend not to see. Sometimes they even encourage them." Berish spoke with such zeal and with such violent gesticulations (continued on page 269)On the Way to the Poorhouse (continued from pave 118) that the crowd began to howl, to stamp their feet and to denounce the rabbi, the elders, the leaders. One of them called out: "We have suffered long enough from these hypocrites."

"Brothers, let's go and break windows," shouted Beryl the barrelmaker. A pack of ruffians marched into the street, lifted rocks and hurled them through the windows of the important Janow citizens. A Talmud student on his way to the midnight study was beaten. A girl who came to pour out the slops was attacked and her braid cut off. From there, the rioters went into the tavern, bought a jug of vodka, a bagful of salt pretzels and proceeded to the poorhouse. The old and the sick were already asleep, but Tsilka was awake. She had been informed about the meeting. She supported her head on two pillows and, in the darkness, her eyes glowed like those of a she-wolf. Lights were lit and drinks were passed around. Tsilka downed a full glass of the liquor, bit off a bit of salt pretzel and began to malign the best people of Janow. Even though she knew the town only from peering through the prison bars, all the gossip and scandal had somehow reached her. The sleeping mendicants were awakened and treated to drinks. Yosele Bludgeon, who worked in the slaughter house, became so drunk that he tore off Tsilka's quilt, lifted her out of the bed and tried to dance with her. There was screaming, laughter, clapping of hands. The children of the poorhouse became wild and began to jump and hop as on the day of the rejoicing of the law.

Hodel the widow went into a frenzy. "People, the world is being destroyed!"

Someone went to wake Zorach the attendant, who was also the Janow grave-digger. He tried to calm the mob, but he received a blow. He went to the rabbi. It was Reb Zeinvele's custom to wake up every night to study Torah and to write commentaries while drinking tea from the samovar. The outside door was bolted, the shutters closed. Suddenly, someone banged at the shutters with a stick. Reb Zeinvele trembled. "Who's there?" he called.

"Rabbi, please open!"

The Messiah had come; the thought ran through Reb Zeinvele's mind, al-though he soon realized that the redemption would not begin at night. He went to unbolt the door. Zorach was panting. "Rabbi, we don't live in Janow but in Sodom," he cried.

"What happened?"

"There's lechery in the poorhouse."

• • •

The community won. A Janow salesman who delivered merchandise to Lublin paid 30 guldens to the Lublin elders who signed a contract to keep Tsilka there until the day of her death. The Janow community was ready to send Tsilka to Lublin, but she took out a knife concealed beneath her pillow and threatened to stab anyone who tried to move her.

Berish the musician, her defender, swore that he would set fire to the houses of the community busybodies and that blood would be shed in Janow. Both sides bribed the authorities. It would have resulted in warfare if the women of the town, even those living on Bridge Street and Butcher's Alley, didn't side with Tsilka's enemies. Tsilka managed to instigate husbands against wives and broke up engagements. When women are determined, men lose the upper hand. Furthermore, Tsilka's pals fought among themselves and some exchanged blows. The community was now all set to execute its plan, but the coachmen's wives would not trust their husbands to take her in their wagons. Regular passengers refused to travel in her company. After much bickering, it was decided that Lei-bush the scabhead, who transported hides to Lublin tanneries, would take her in his cart. Leibush was already a man in his 50s and a grandfather. Other than Tsilka, he took with him a wandering beggar and two orphan sisters who went to Lublin for domestic service.

Tsilka's imprecations and knife waving were of no avail. Leibush, a small man, broad in the shoulders, with a thick red beard that began in the middle of his throat and reached his bulging eyes, stormed into the poorhouse, tore the knife out of Tsilka's hands, grabbed her like a calf destined for the slaughter house and threw her among the hides. The beggar and the maids were already in the cart and Leibush headed straight toward the Lublin road. Street urchins ran alongside the wagon, screaming: "Rachav the harlot." Girls peered from behind the curtains. Tsilka poured out the most violent curses. She spat at Leibush and at the two orphans. One of them mumbled: "You should spit with blood and pus." Tsilka flung herself at the girl to scratch her eyes out. Suddenly, she burst into laughter.

"I won't spit blood, but you will carry the chamber pots of your employers. All day long, you will work like an ox. At night, your mistress' precious son will force you to sleep with him and give you a belly. Later, you will be thrown out into the gutter, together with your bastard."

"You should get a boil on your behind for every decent maid there is in Lublin, "Leibush spoke from the driver's seat, not turning his back.

"How do you know they are decent?" Tsilka asked. "Did you try to lie with them?"

"My own wife was a hired girl in Lublin. At the wedding, she was a kosher virgin."

"Kosher like a pig's knuckle. Greater sages than you have been tricked."

Tsilka was now pouring out vituperations. She bragged about her abominations. The two sisters, perplexed, pressed even closer to each other and remained silent. The mendicant leaned on his bag, which had been filled with food and old clothing by the charitable women of Janow. Leibush emitted a whistle, brandished his whip and spoke inquisitively. "You have discarded your last shred of shame, haven't you?"

"Those who are ashamed don't do what I did. I wouldn't be ashamed in front of my own mother."

"Don't you have any regrets?" the beggar asked. "After all, one gets older, not younger. You see already that God has punished you."

"My profession and regret don't blend. The poorhouse is full of cripples who constantly have God on the tip of their tongues. The pious also have a taste for the flesh, I should have so many good years for how many Yeshibah boys were my patrons. I was even visited by an itinerant preacher who specialized in sermons about morality."

You should live so long, if you are telling the truth," Leibush said.

"Leibush scabhead, you should have so many blisters and carbuncles for the number of times this preacher had me."

"Shut your mouth or you'll soon find your teeth in your hand," Leibush cried out. The beggar tried to quiet him.

"It doesn't pay to fall into a rage, Reb Leibush. God does not listen to a whore's swearing."

"He listens, He listens, you nasty schnorrer. If you say one more word, I'll tear out your beard, with a piece of flesh in addition."

The two sisters, twins, let out one short shriek. They came from a decent home. Both had round faces, snub noses, lips that curled upward and high bosoms. They wore the same shawls and their hairdos were identical. Tsilka stuck her tongue out at them. "Two stuffed geese."

The night began to lower. The sun was setting; large, red, with a ribbon of cloud through the middle. The moonless night was humid; there was lightning not followed by thunder. The horse walked at a slow pace. In the darkness, one could see the glitter of glowworms, the outline of a windmill, a scarecrow, a haystack. Dogs barked in the villages. Horses spending the night in the pasture stood motionless. Once in a while, a humming could be heard, but it was difficult to know if it came from a beast or a bird of prey. After a while, the cart traveled on a road through a forest. From the thicket wafted smells of moss, wildflowers, swamp. Tsilka's talk became even more abandoned. She reviled and blasphemed. According to her, rabbis, scholars, important people had one thing on their minds only--lechery. She told of an episode with a rich young scholar who was boarding at his father-in-law's and who stayed three days and three nights in a hayloft with her. Occasionally, the horse stopped for a while, pricked up its ears, as if curious to listen to these human vanities. Suddenly, Tsilka cried out: "Leibush scabhead, take me down."

"What's the matter?"

"I have to go where even a king goes on foot."

Since Tsilka was paralyzed, Leibush had to carry her. He lifted her with ease, as if she were a bundle of rags, and carried her behind the bushes. One of the twins uttered a laugh and grew silent again. The beggar rummaged in his bag, pulled out an onion, bit into it and spat it out. "By what merit does such an outcast remain alive?" he asked.

A quarter of an hour passed, perhaps more, but the two did not return. The horse kicked the ground once. The beggar remarked: "What are they doing so long?" and he answered himself: "They don't sing psalms."

Steps were heard. Leibush emerged from the thicket with Tsilka in his arms. She giggled and one could see by the light of the stars that she was tickling him and pulling at his beard. Leibush carefully sat her in the cart. He then ordered, "Everybody else get out of the cart."

"What for?"

"I have to rearrange the hides."

The three of them alighted. Leibush jumped upon to the driver's seat, whipped the horse and shouted: "Heyta."

"Where are you going? Where are you leaving us? Oy, mama!" the sisters cried out in unison.

"Thief, brigand, whoremaster! Help, people, help!" the beggar wailed hoarsely.

They tried to run after the cart, but the road led downhill. The wagon soon disappeared. Leibush had taken the beggar's bag and the baskets belonging to the girls with him. The beggar beat his breast: "Children, we are lost.

"Oy, mama!" The two girls sank down and remained sitting on the needle-covered ground.

The beggar screamed with all his might: "There is a God! There is!"

The words reverberated and resounded with the mocking echo of those who rule in the night.

All three slept in the forest. The next day, they headed back toward Janow. In Zamosc, Bilgoraj, Frampol and Turbin the news spread about Leibush the hide dealer, who left a wife, children and grandchildren and ran away with a trollop. Messengers were dispatched, but they found no trace of the pair. Some people thought that Leibush crossed the border into Galicia with her. Others were of the opinion that the two sinners went to a priest in Lublin and were converted. Yet others maintained that Tsilka was a she-demon and that she carried Leibush away into the desert of Sodom, to Mount Seir, to Asmodeus' castle, into the dominion of the nether world.

Leibush's wife was never permitted to remarry. The mendicant swore on the Bible that he had kept 60 guldens in his bag, a dowry for his daughter, who was already past 30. He asked the community to reimburse him for his loss.

During the winter nights, when the girls of Janow got together to pickle cucumbers, pluck feathers or render chicken fat for Passover, they would tell the story of Tsilka the wicked and Leibush the adulterer, who vanished into regions from which no one has ever returned.