The arendant and my father lived together like neighbours; that is, they
envied and hated each other. The former looked on my father as a
vagrant, who had forced himself upon him, and disturbed him in his
undivided possession of the advantages of the place. My father took the
arendant for a wealthy blockhead, who, against the consent which he had
granted, which my father might have dispensed with altogether and had
sought merely from the love of peace, endeavoured in every way to
restrict him and to narrow his rights, notwithstanding the fact that he
received actual advantages from his settlement. For from this time
Mohilna had acquired a sort of independence, by means of which the
arendant was spared many expenses and depreciations. There was also a
small synagogue erected, and my father took the position of chief rabbi,
preacher, and director of the conscience, as he was the only scholar in
the place. He lost, indeed, no opportunity of representing all this to
the arendant, and making complaints of his conduct; but unfortunately
this was of little use.
I must take this opportunity of mentioning the only theft which I ever
perpetrated in my life. I often went to the house of the arendant, and
played with his children. Once, when I entered a room and found no one
there, it being summer and the people of the house all busy out of
doors, I spied in an open closet a neat little medicine-box which
appeared to me uncommonly charming. When I opened it, I found, to my
very great sorrow, some money in it; for it belonged to one of the
children of the house. I could not resist the desire to carry off the
little box; but to take the money seemed to me in the highest degree
shameful. But when I considered that the theft would be all the more
easily discovered if I put the money out, full of fear and shame I took
the box as it was and thrust it in my pocket. I went home with it, and
buried it very carefully. The night following I could not sleep, and was
disquieted in conscience, especially on account of the money. I
resolved, therefore, to take it back; but in regard to the little box, I
could not conquer myself: it was a work of art, the like of which I had
never seen before. The next day I emptied the box of its contents, slunk
with them into the room already mentioned, and waited for an opportunity
when nobody was there. I was already engaged in smuggling the money into
the closet; but I had so little skill in doing this without noise and
with the necessary despatch, that I was caught in the act, and forced to
a confession of the whole theft. I was obliged to dig up again the
valuable work of art,--it must have cost about a quarter of a
groschen,--to return it to its owner, little Moses, and to hear myself
called _thief_ by the children of the house.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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