The Student Knows More Than the Teacher. A Theft à la Rousseau Is Discovered.1 The Pious Man Wears What the Godless Man Procures
ON THE SURFACE, then, my father seemed to be doing splendidly, but in truth his situation was precarious. Notwithstanding her tireless efforts, my mother could help only in the smallest ways. My father, furthermore, had to take on a teaching position in addition to his other duties, and so he became my teacher. I have to confess that while I brought him great joy as his student, I also caused great consternation. I was about nine years old, yet not only could I already grasp both the Talmud and the commentaries, I also enjoyed engaging in disputations about them. [74] I had the childish pleasure of getting the better of my estimable father—something that made for more than a little embarrassment on his part.
The leaseholder and my father lived like neighbors. That is, they envied and hated each other. The leaseholder regarded my father as an interloper who had forced himself upon him, threatening his position as the sole possessor of Mohilna’s resources. My father, in turn, viewed the leaseholder as a wealthy fool whose actions contradicted his granting of permission, which my father had never actually needed, but had wanted to secure to keep things amicable between them. The leaseholder tried to hinder my father’s success and curtail his rights in all kinds of ways, even though he actually stood to benefit from my father’s presence.
At just this time, Mohilna achieved a kind of independence, as a result of which the leaseholder was spared numerous expenses and humiliations. A small synagogue was built, with my [75] father playing the role of chief rabbi, preacher, and spiritual guide, for he was the only scholar in the town. To be sure, my father never passed up an opportunity to remind the leaseholder of this fact and to reproach him for his behavior. But it did my father little good.
I must now mention the only act of theft I have ever committed. I often went to the leaseholder’s house to play with his children. It happened once that as I entered the parlor, no one was around. It was summer; the servants were busy outside. In the cupboard I saw a neat little medicine box and was entirely smitten. When I opened the box, I found, to my great dismay, that it contained some money, which must have belonged to one of the children of the house. I couldn’t resist the urge to steal the little box. Taking the money was too scandalous for me. But since I realized the theft would be discovered sooner if I left the money, I took the little box along with its contents, pocketing it, full of shame and fear. [76] That night I couldn’t sleep. The money was weighing especially heavily on my conscience, so I decided to bring it back. But the little box was another matter. It was a work of art superior to anything I had ever seen, and I couldn’t make myself give it up. The next day, I emptied out the little box, slipped into the parlor, and waited until no one else was in the room. I tried to put the money back in the cupboard but did not have enough skill to do it quickly or quietly enough. I was caught in the act and forced to confess my whole crime. I had to retrieve the precious artwork (which was worth only a few cents) from its hiding place and return it to its owner, little Moses. I also had to listen as the children of the house called me a thief.
Another experience had a more comical ending. It happened as follows. [77] Russians were quartered in Mohilna at the time, and having been issued their new uniforms, they were permitted to sell the old ones. My oldest brother Joseph and my cousin Beer persuaded some Russians they knew to give them a few brass buttons. These they had sewn into their pants in place of the old wooden ones, and they regarded them as the most wonderful ornaments. I was just as taken with them. But because I wasn’t clever enough to get brass buttons in such an enterprising way, I had to use more forceful means. I turned to my father and demanded that Joseph and Beer share their buttons. My father was a just man, but he also loved me above all things. He said: “Well, the buttons rightfully belong to their owners. However, since the owners have more of them than they need, it is only right that they share the surplus.” Praising me and criticizing them, he appended to his speech this line from the Holy Scripture: “The pious man wears what the godless man procures.”2 Over the [78] protests of Joseph and Beer, my father’s judgment was enforced, and I had the pleasure of seeing brass buttons sparkling on my pants.
Joseph and Beer couldn’t get over their loss. They complained loudly about the egregious injustice done to them. Before long, my father had had enough of the controversy and said: “The buttons have already been sewn onto Solomon’s pants. The use of force is forbidden, but getting them back through cunning is permitted.” Both Joseph and Beer were satisfied with this judgment. They walked up to me, looked at my buttons, and, feigning great astonishment, cried: “What have we here? Your buttons are sewn on with twine, but they should have used hemp thread with your cloth pants. You need to take them off immediately.” While saying this, they detached the buttons—then went away rejoicing over the success of their strategy. I ran after them and insisted they sew the buttons back on. But they just laughed. My [79] father smiled and told me: “You’re too gullible, and if you let people trick you, it isn’t my place to help you. I hope you’ll be smarter in future.” With that, the controversy was over. I had to go back to wearing wooden buttons, and I was subjected to the humiliation of hearing Joseph and Beer reciting the biblical line that my father had invoked: “The pious man wears what the godless man procures.” [80]