# Yiddish Tales/David Frischmann/Three Who Ate

Contents
THREE WHO ATE
Once upon a time three people ate. I recall the event as one recalls a dream. Black clouds obscure the men, because it happened long ago.
Only sometimes it seems to me that there are no clouds, but a pillar of fire lighting up the men and their doings, and the fire grows bigger and brighter, and gives light and warmth to this day.
I have only a few words to tell you, two or three words: once upon a time three people ate. Not on a workday or an ordinary Sabbath, but on a Day of Atonement that fell on a Sabbath.
Not in a corner where no one sees or hears, but before all the people in the great Shool, in the principal Shool of the town.
Neither were they ordinary men, these three, but the chief Jews of the community: the Rabbi and his two Dayonim.
The townsfolk looked up to them as if they had been angels, and certainly held them to be saints. And now, as I write these words, I remember how difficult it was for me to understand, and how I sometimes used to think the Rabbi and his Dayonim had done wrong. But even then I felt that they were doing a tremendous thing, that they were holy men with holy instincts, and that it was not easy for them to act thus. Who knows ​270 FRISCHMANN
how hard they fought with themselves, who knows how they suffered, and what they endured?
And even if I live many years and grow old, I shall never forget the day and the men, and what was done on it, for they were no ordinary men, but great heroes.
Those were bitter times, such as had not been for long, and such as will not soon return.
A great calamity had descended on us from Heaven, and had spread abroad among the towns and over the country : the cholera had broken out.
The calamity had reached us from a distant land, and entered our little town, and clutched at young and old.
By day and by night men died like flies, and those who were left hung between life and death.
Who can number the dead who were buried in those days! Who knows the names of the corpses which lay about in heaps in the streets !
In the Jewish street the plague made great ravages: there was not a house where there lay not one dead not a family in which the calamity had not broken out.
In the house where we lived, on the second floor, nine people died in one day. In the basement there died a mother and four children, and in the house oppo- site we heard wild cries one whole night through, and in the morning we became aware that there was no one left in it alive.
The grave-diggers worked early and late, and the corpses lay about in the streets like dung. They stuck one to the other like clay, and one walked over dead bodies. ​THREE WHO ATE 271
The summer broke up, and there came the Solemn Days, and then the most dreadful day of all the Day of Atonement.
I shall remember that day as long as I live.
The Eve of the Day of Atonement the reciting of Kol Nidre!
At the desk before the ark there stands, not as usual the precentor and two householders, but the Rabbi and his two Dayonim.
The candles are burning all round, and there is a whispering of the flames as they grow taller and taller. The people stand at their reading-desks with grave faces, and draw on the robes and prayer-scarfs, the Spanish hoods and silver girdles; and their shadows sway this way and that along the walls, and might be the ghosts of the dead who died to-day and yesterday and the day before yesterday. Evidently they could not rest in their graves, and have also come into the Shool.
Hush ! . . . the Rabbi has begun to say something, and the Dayonim, too, and a groan rises from the con- gregation.
"With the consent of the All-Present and with the consent of this congregation, we give leave to pray with them that have transgressed."
And a great fear fell upon me and upon all the people, young and old. In that same moment I saw the Rabbi mount the platform. Is he going to preach ? Is he going to lecture the people at a time when they are falling dead like flies ? But the Rabbi neither preached nor lectured. He only called to remembrance the souls ​273 FRISCHMANN
of those who had died in the course of the last few days. But how long it lasted! How many names he men- tioned ! The minutes fly one after the other, and the Rabbi has not finished ! Will the list of souls never come to an end ? Never ? And it seems to me the Rabbi had better call out the names of those who are left alive, because they are few, instead of the names of the dead, who are without number and without end.
I shall never forget that night and the praying, be- cause it was not really praying, but one long, loud groan rising from the depth of the human heart, cleaving the sky and reaching to Heaven. Never since the world began have Jews prayed in greater anguish of soul, never have hotter tears fallen from human eyes.
That night no one left the Shool,
After the prayers they recited the Hymn of Unity, and after that the Psalms, and then chapters from the Mishnah, and then ethical books. . .
And I also stand among the congregation and pray, and my eyelids are heavy as lead, and my heart beats like a hammer.
"U-Malochim yechofezun and the angels fly around."
And I fancy I see them flying in the Shool, up and down, up and down. And among them I see the bad angel with the thousand eyes, full of eyes from head to feet.
That night no one left the Shool, but early in the morning there were some missing two of the congre- gation had fallen during the night, and died before our eyes, and lay wrapped in their prayer-scarfs and white ​THREE WHO ATE 273
robes nothing was lacking for their journey from the living to the dead.
They kept on bringing messages into the Shool from the Gass, but nobody wanted to listen or to ask questions, lest he should hear what had happened in his own house. No matter how long I live, I shall never forget that night, and all I saw and heard.
But the Day of Atonement, the day that followed, was more awful still.
And even now, when I shut my eyes, I see the whole picture, and I think I am standing once more among the people in the Shool.
It is Atonement Day in the afternoon.
The Rabbi stands on the platform in the centre of the Shool, tall and venerable, and there is a fascination in his noble features. And there, in the corner of the Shool, stands a boy who never takes his eyes off the Rabbi's face.
In truth I never saw a nobler figure.
The Rabbi is old, seventy or perhaps eighty years, but tall and straight as a fir-tree. His long beard is white like silver, but the thick, long hair of his head is whiter still, and his face is blanched, and his lips are pale, and only his large black eyes shine and sparkle like the eyes of a young lion.
I stood in awe of him when I was a little child. I knew he was a man of God, one of the greatest authori- ties in the Law, whose advice was sought by the whole world.
I knew also that he inclined to leniency in all his decisions, and that none dared oppose him. ​274 FRISCHMANN"
The sight I saw that day in Shool is before my eyes now.
The Eabbi stands on the platform, and his black eyes gleam and shine in the pale face and in the white hair and beard.
The Additional Service is over, and the people are waiting to hear what the Rabbi will say, and one is afraid to draw one's breath.
And the Rabbi begins to speak.
His weak voice grows stronger and higher every minute, and at last it is quite loud.
He speaks of the sanctity of the Day of Atonement and of the holy Torah; of repentance and of prayer, of the living and of the dead, and of the pestilence that has broken out and that destroys without pity, without rest, without a pause for how long? for how much longer ?
And by degrees his pale cheeks redden and his lips also, and I hear him say: "And when trouble comes to a man, he must look to his deeds, and not only to those which concern him and the Almighty, but to those which concern himself, to his body, to his flesh, to his own health."
I was a child then, but I remember how I began to tremble when I heard these words, because I had under- stood.
The Rabbi goes on speaking. He speaks of cleanliness and wholesome air, of dirt, which is dangerous to man, and of hunger and thirst, which are men's bad angels when there is a pestilence about, devouring without pity.
And the Rabbi goes on to say: ​THEEE WHO ATE 275
"And men shall live by My commandments, and not die by them. There are times when one must turn aside from the Law, if by so doing a whole community may be saved."
I stand shaking with fear. What does the Rabbi want? What does he mean by his words? What does he think to accomplish ? And suddenly I see that he is weeping, and my heart beats louder and louder. What has happened ? Why does he weep ? And there I stand in the corner, in the silence, and I also begin to cry.
And to this day, if I shut my eyes, I see him standing on the platform, and he makes a sign with his hand to the two Dayonim to the left and right of him. He and they whisper together, and he says something in their ear. What has happened? Why does his cheek flame, and why are theirs as white as chalk ?
And suddenly I hear them talking, but I cannot understand them, because the words do not enter my brain. And yet all three are speaking so sharply and clearly !
And all the people utter a groan, and after the groan I hear the words, <r With the consent of the All-Present and with the consent of this congregation, we give leave to eat and drink on the Day of Atonement."
Silence. Not a sound is heard in the Shool, not an eyelid quivers, not a breath is drawn.
And I stand in my corner and hear my heart beating : one two one two. A terror comes over me, and it is black before my eyes. The shadows move to and fro on the wall, and amongst the shadows I see the dead who died yesterday and the day before yesterday and the ​276 FRISCHMANN
day before the day before yesterday a whole people, a great assembly.
And suddenly I grasp what it is the Eabbi asks of us. The Rabbi calls on us to eat, to-day! The Rabbi calls on Jews to eat on the Day of Atonement not to fast, because of the cholera because of the cholera because of the cholera . . . and I begin to cry loudly. And it is not only I the whole congregation stands weeping, and the Dayonim on the platform weep, and the great- est of all stands there sobbing like a child.
And he implores like a child, and his words are soft and gentle, and every now and then he weeps so that his voice cannot be heard.
"Eat, Jews, eat! To-day we must eat. This is a time to turn aside from the Law. We are to live through the commandments, and not die through them !"
But no one in the Shool has stirred from his place, and there he stands and begs of them, weeping, and declares that he takes the whole responsibility on him- self, that the people shall be innocent. But no one stirs. And presently he begins again in a changed voice he does not beg, he commands:
"I give you leave to eat I I I !"
And his words are like arrows shot from the bow.
But the people are deaf, and no one stirs.
Then he begins again with his former voice, and implores like a child:
"What would you have of me ? Why will you torment me till my strength fails ? Think you I have not strug- gled with myself from early this morning till now?"
And the Dayonim also plead with the people. ​THREE WHO ATE 277
And of a sudden the Rabbi grows as white as chalk, and lets his head fall on his breast. There is a groan from one end of the Shool to the other, and after the groan the people are heard to murmur among them- selves.
Then the Rabbi, like one speaking to himself, says :
"It is God's will. I am eighty years old, and have never yet transgressed a law. But this is also a law, it is a precept. Doubtless the Almighty wills it so ! Beadle !"
The beadle comes, and the Rabbi whispers a few words into his ear.
He also confers with the Dayonim, and they nod their heads and agree.
And the beadle brings cups of wine for Sanctification, out of the Rabbi's chamber, and little rolls of bread. And though I should live many years and grow very old, I shall never forget what I saw then, and even now, when I shut my eyes, I see the whole thing : three Rabbis standing on the platform in Shool, and eating before the whole people, on the Day of Atonement !
The three belong to the heroes.
Who shall tell how they fought with themselves, who shall say how they suffered, and what they endured?
"I have done what you wished," says the Rabbi, and his voice does not shake, and his lips do not tremble.
"God's Name be praised!"
And all the Jews ate that day, they ate and wept.
Rays of light beam forth from the remembrance, and spread all around, and reach the table at which I sit and write these words. ​278 PRISCHMANN
Once again: three people ate.
At the moment when the awesome scene in the Shool is before me, there are three Jews sitting in a room opposite the Shool, and they also are eating.
They are the three "enlightened" ones of the place: the tax-collector, the inspector, and the teacher.
The window is wide open, so that all may see ; on the table stands a samovar, glasses of red wine, and eat- ables. And the three sit with playing-cards in their hands, playing Preference, and they laugh and eat and drink.
Do they also belong to the heroes ?