THE LIBRARY
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA
LOS ANGELES
The King of Schnorrers
Grotesques and Fantasies
The
King of Schnorrers
GROTESQUES AND FANTASIES
BY
I. ZANGWILL
AUTHOR OF " CHILDREN OF THE GHETTO," " THE OLD MAIDS' CLUB,'
" MERELY MARY ANN," ETC.
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
LONDON : MACMILLAN & CO., LTD.
1909
AN rights reserved
COPYRIGHT, 1893,
BY MACMILLAN AND CO.
Set up and electrotyped January, 1894. Reprinted April,
1894; September, 1895; January, 1897; October, 1898; August,
: June, 1909.
NnrfaoaB $hw
J. 8. Cashing & Co. - Berwick & !
Norwood Mass. U.S.A.
Foreword to
" The King of Schnorrers?
'T^HESE episodes make no claim to veracity, while
the personages are not even sun-myths. I have
merely amused myself and attempted to amuse idlers
by incarnating the floating tradition of the Jewish
SCHNORRER, who is as unique among beggars as Israel
among nations. The close of the eighteenth century
was chosen for a background, because, while the most
picturesque period of Anglo-Jewish history, it has never
before been exploited in fiction, whether by novelists or
historians. To my friend, Mr. Asher I. Myers, I am
indebted for access to his imique collection of Jewish
prints and caricatures of the period, and I have not
been backward in SCHNORRING suggestions from him
and other private humourists. My indebtedness, to my
ai-tists is more obvious, from my old friend George
Hutchinson to my newer friend Phil May, who has
been good enough to allow me to reproduce from his
2052539
vi FORE WORD.
Annuals the brilliant sketches illustrating two of the
shorter stories. Of these shorter stories it only re-
mains to be said there are both tragic and comic, and
I will not usurp the critic s prerogative by determin-
ing which is which.
/. Z.
That all men are beggars, 'tis very plain to see,
Though some they are of lowly, and some of high degree:
Your ministers of State will say they never will allow
That kings from subjects beg; but that you know is all bow-wow.
Bow-wow-wow ! Fol lol, etc.
OLD PLAY.
Contents.
PAGE
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS . . . . . i
Illustrated by GEORGE HUTCHINSON.
THE SEMI- SENTIMENTAL DRAGON . . . -157
Illustrated by PHIL MAY.
AN HONEST LOG-ROLLER 171
Illustrated by F. H. TOWNSEND.
A TRAGI-COMEDY OF CREEDS ... .176
THE MEMORY CLEARING HOUSE . , . .183
Illustrated by A. J. FlNBERG.
MATED BY A WAITER 205
Illustrated by MARK ZANGWILL.
THE PRINCIPAL BOY 242
Illustrated by F. H. TOWNSEND and MARK ZANGWILL.
AN ODD LIFE -259
Illustrated by F. H. TOWNSEND.
CHEATING THE GALLOWS 273
Illustrated by GEORGE HUTCHINSON.
ix
x CONTENTS.
PAGE
SANTA CLAUS 297
Illustrated by MARK ZANGWILL.
A ROSE OF THE GHETTO 302
Illustrated by A. J. FINBERG.
A DOUBLE-BARRELLED GHOST 320
Illustrated by PHIL MAY.
VAGARIES OF A VISCOUNT 334
Illustrated by F. H. TOWNSEND.
THE QUEEN'S TRIPLETS 343
Illustrated by IRVING MONTAGU.
A SUCCESSFUL OPERATION 364
FLUTTER-DUCK : A GHETTO GROTESQUE . . .369
Illustrated by MARK ZANGWILL.
The King of Schnorrers.
CHAPTER I.
SHOWING HOW THE WICKED PHILANTHROPIST WAS TURNED
INTO A FISH-PORTER.
IN the days when Lord George Gordon became a Jew,
and was suspected of insanity ; when, out of respect for
the prophecies, England denied her Jews every civic right
except that of paying taxes ; when the Gentleman's Maga-
zine had ill words for the infidel alien ; when Jewish mar-
riages were invalid and bequests for Hebrew colleges void ;
when a prophet prophesying Primrose Day would have been
set in the stocks, though Pitt inclined his private ear to
Benjamin Goldsmid's views on the foreign loans in those
days, when Tevele Schiff was Rabbi in Israel, and Dr. de
Falk, the Master of the Tetragrammaton, saint and Cabbalistic
conjuror, flourished in Wellclose Square, and the composer
of "The Death of Nelson" was a choir-boy in the Great
Synagogue ; Joseph Grobstock, pillar of the same, emerged
one afternoon into the spring sunshine at the fag-end of
the departing stream of worshippers. In his hand was a
large canvas bag, and in his eye a twinkle.
There had been a special service of prayer and thanks-
giving for the happy restoration of his Majesty's health,
and the cantor had interceded tunefully with Providence
on behalf of Royal George and " our most amiable Queen,
1
2 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
Charlotte." The congregation was large and fashionable
far more so than when only a heavenly sovereign was con-
cerned and so the courtyard was thronged with a string
of Schnorrers (beggars), awaiting the exit of the audience,
much as the vestibule of the opera-house is lined by
footmen.
They were a motley crew, with tangled beards and long
hair that fell in curls, if not the curls of the period ; but
the gaberdines of the German Ghettoes had been in most
cases exchanged for the knee-breeches and many-buttoned
jacket of the Londoner. When the clothes one has brought
from the Continent wear out, one must needs adopt the
attire of one's superiors, or be reduced to buying. Many
bore staves, and had their loins girded up with coloured
handkerchiefs, as though ready at any moment to return
from the Captivity. Their woebegone air was achieved
almost entirely by not washing it owed little to nature,
to adventitious aids in the shape of deformities. The
merest sprinkling boasted of physical afflictions, and none
exposed sores like the lazars of Italy or contortions like
the cripples of Constantinople. Such crude methods are
eschewed in the fine art of schnorring. A green shade
might denote weakness of sight, but the stone-blind man
bore no braggart placard his infirmity was an old estab-
lished concern well known to the public, and conferring
upon the proprietor a definite status in the community.
He was no anonymous atom, such as drifts blindly through
Christendom, vagrant and apologetic. Rarest of all sights
in this pageantry of Jewish pauperdom was the hollow
trouser-leg or the empty sleeve, or the wooden limb fulfill-
ing either and pushing out a proclamatory peg.
When the pack of Schnorrers caught sight of Joseph
Grobstock, they fell upon him full-cry, blessing him. He,
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS. 3
nothing surprised, brushed pompously through the benedic-
tions, though the twinkle in his eye became a roguish gleam.
Outside the iron gates, where the throng was thickest, and
where some elegant chariots that had brought worshippers
from distant Hackney were preparing to start, he came to a
standstill, surrounded by clamouring Schnorrers, and dipped
his hand slowly and ceremoniously into the bag. There was
'DIPPED HIS HAND INTO THE BAG."
a moment of breathless expectation among the beggars, and
Joseph Grobstock had a moment of exquisite consciousness
of importance, as he stood there swelling in the .sunshine.
There was no middle class to speak of in the eighteenth-
century Jewry ; the world was divided into rich and poor,
and the rich were very, very rich, and the poor very, very
poor, so that everyone knew his station. Joseph Grobstock
was satisfied with that in which it had pleased God to place
4 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
him. He was a jovial, heavy-jowled creature, whose clean-
shaven chin was doubling, and he was habited like a person
of the first respectability in a beautiful blue body-coat with
a row of big yellow buttons. The frilled shirt front, high
collar of the very newest fashion, and copious white necker-
chief showed off the massive fleshiness of the red throat.
His hat was of the Quaker pattern, and his head did not
fail of the periwig and the pigtail, the latter being heretical
in name only.
What Joseph Grobstock drew from the bag was a small
white-paper packet, and his sense of humour led him to
place it in the hand furthest from his nose ; for it was a
broad humour, not a subtle. It enabled him to extract
pleasure from seeing a fellow-mortal's hat rollick in the
wind, but did little to alleviate the chase for his own. His
jokes clapped you on the back, they did not tickle delicately.
Such was the man who now became the complacent cyno-
sure of all eyes, even of those that had no appeal in them,
as soon as the principle of his eleemosynary operations had
broken on the crowd. The first Schnorrer, feverishly tear-
ing open his package, had found a florin, and, as by elec-
tricity, all except the blind beggar were aware that Joseph
Grobstock was distributing florins. The distributor par-
took of the general consciousness, and his lips twitched.
Silently he dipped again into the bag, and, selecting the
hand nearest, put a second white package into it. A wave
of joy brightened the grimy face, to change instantly to one
of horror.
" You have made a mistake you have given me a
penny ! " cried the beggar.
"Keep it for your honesty," replied Joseph Grobstock
imperturbably, and affected not to enjoy the laughter of the
rest. The third mendicant ceased laughing when he dis-
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS. 6
covered that fold on fold of paper sheltered a tiny sixpence.
It was now obvious that the great man was distributing
prize-packets, and the excitement of the piebald crowd
grew momently. Grobstock went on dipping, lynx-eyed
against second applications. One of the few pieces of gold
in the lucky-bag fell
to the solitary lame
man, who danced in his
joy on his sound leg,
while the poor blind
man pocketed his half-
penny, unconscious of
ill- fortune, and merely
wondering why the
coin came swathed in<
paper.
By this time Grob-
stock could control his
face no longer, and the
last episodes of the
lottery were played to
the accompaniment of
a broad grin. Keen
and complex was his
enjoyment. There was
not only the general "DANCED ON HIS SOUND LEG."
surprise at this novel
feat of alms ; there were the special surprises of detail writ-
ten on face after face, as it flashed or fell or frowned in
congruity with the contents of the envelope, and for under-
current a delicious hubbub of interjections and benedictions,
a stretching and withdrawing of palms, and a swift shifting
of figures, that made the scene a farrago of excitements. So
6 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
that the broad grin was one of gratification as well as of
amusement, and part of the gratification sprang from a real
kindliness of heart for Grobstock was an easy-going man
with whom the world had gone easy. The Schnorrers were
exhausted before the packets, but the philanthropist was in
no anxiety to be rid of the remnant. Closing the mouth of
the considerably lightened bag and clutching it tightly by
the throat, and recomposing his face to gravity, he moved
slowly down the street like a stately treasure-ship flecked by
the sunlight. His way led towards Goodman's Fields, where
his mansion was situate, and he knew that the fine weather
would bring out Schnorrers enough. And, indeed, he had
not gone many paces before he met a figure he did not
remember having seen before.
Leaning against a post at the head of the narrow passage
which led to Bevis Marks was a tall, black-bearded, turbaned
personage, a first glance at whom showed him of the true
tribe. Mechanically Joseph Grobstock's hand went to the
lucky-bag, and he drew out a neatly- folded packet and ten-
dered it to the stranger.
The stranger received the gift graciously, and opened it
gravely, the philanthropist loitering awkwardly to mark the
issue. Suddenly the dark face became a thunder-cloud, the
eyes flashed lightning.
" An evil spirit in your ancestors' bones ! " hissed the
stranger, from between his flashing teeth. " Did you come
here to insult me ? "
" Pardon, a thousand pardons ! " stammered the magnate,
wholly taken aback. " I fancied you were a a a poor
man."
" And, therefore, you came to insult me ! "
" No, no, I thought to help you," murmured Grobstock,
turning from red to scarlet. Was it possible he had foisted
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS. 7
his charity upon an undeserving millionaire? No ! Through
all the clouds of his own confusion and the recipient's anger,
the figure of a Schnorrer loomed too plain for mistake.
None but a Schnorrer would wear a home-made turban,
issue of a black cap crossed with a white kerchief; none
but a Schnorrer would unbutton the first nine buttons of his
waistcoat, or, if this relaxation were due to the warmth of
the weather, counteract it by wearing an over-garment,
especially one as heavy as a blanket, with buttons the size
of compasses and flaps reaching nearly to his shoe-buckles,
even though its length were only congruous with that of his
undercoat, which already reached the bottoms of his knee-
breeches. Finally, who but a Schnorrer would wear this
overcoat cloak-wise, with dangling sleeves, full of armless
suggestion from a side view? Quite apart from the shabbi-
ness of the snuff-coloured fabric, it was amply evident that
the wearer did not dress by rule or measure. Yet the dis-
proportions of his attire did but enhance the picturesqueness
of a personality that would be striking even in a bath, though
it was not likely to be seen there. The beard was jet black,
sweeping and unkempt, and ran up his cheeks to meet the
raven hair, so that the vivid face was framed in black ; it
was a long, tapering face with sanguine lips gleaming at the
heart of a black bush ; the eyes were large and lambent, set
in deep sockets under black arching eyebrows ; the nose was
long and Coptic ; the brow low but broad, with straggling
wisps of hair protruding from beneath the turban. His
right hand grasped a plain ashen staff.
Worthy Joseph Grobstock found the figure of the men-
dicant only too impressive ; he shrank uneasily before the
indignant eyes.
" I meant to help you," he repeated.
" And this is how one helps a brother in Israel ? " said the
8 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
Schnorrer, throwing the paper contemptuously into the phi-
lanthropist's face. It struck him on the bridge of the nose,
but impinged so mildly that he felt at once what was the
matter. The packet was empty the Schnorrer had drawn
a blank ; the only one the good-natured man had put into
the bag.
The Schnorrer 1 s audacity sobered Joseph Grobstock com-
pletely ; it might have angered him to chastise the fellow,
but it did not. His better nature prevailed ; he began to
feel shamefaced, fumbled sheepishly in his pocket for a
crown ; then hesitated, as fearing this peace-offering would
not altogether suffice with so rare a spirit, and that he owed
the stranger more than silver an apology to wit. He
proceeded honestly to pay it, but with a maladroit manner,
as one unaccustomed to the currency.
"You are an impertinent rascal," he said, "but I daresay
you feel hurt. Let me assure you I did not know there was
nothing in the packet. I did not, indeed."
" Then your steward has robbed me ! " exclaimed the
Schnorrer excitedly. " You let him make up the packets,
and he has stolen my money the thief, the transgressor,
thrice-cursed who robs the poor."
" You don't understand," interrupted the magnate meekly.
" I made up the packets myself."
" Then, why do you say you did not know what was in
them? Go, you mock my misery ! "
" Nay, hear me out ! " urged Grobstock desperately. " In
some I placed gold, in the greater number silver, in a few
copper, in one alone nothing. That is the one you have
drawn. It is your misfortune."
" My misfortune ! " echoed the Schnorrer scornfully. " It
is your misfortune I did not even draw it. The Holy
One, blessed be He, has punished you for your heartless
'IT STRUCK HIM ON THE BRIDGE OF THE NOSE."
10 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
jesting with the poor making a sport for yourself of their
misfortunes, even as the Philistines sported with Samson.
The good deed you might have put to your account by a
gratuity to me, God has taken from you. He has declared
you unworthy of achieving righteousness through me. Go
your way, murderer ! "
" Murderer ! " repeated the philanthropist, bewildered by
this harsh view of his action.
" Yes, murderer ! Stands it not in the Talmud that he
who shames another is as one who spills his blood? And
have you not put me to shame if anyone had witnessed
your almsgiving, would he not have laughed in my beard?"
The pillar of the Synagogue felt as if his paunch were
shrinking.
"But the others "he murmured deprecatingly. "I
have not shed their blood have I not given freely of my
hard-earned gold ? "
" For your own diversion," retorted the Schnorrer im-
placably. " But what says the Midrash ? There is a wheel
rolling in the world not he who is rich to-day is rich
to-morrow, but this one He brings up, and this one He
brings down, as is said in the seventy-fifth Psalm. There-
fore, lift not up your horn on high, nor speak with a stiff
neck."
He towered above the unhappy capitalist, like an ancient
prophet denouncing a swollen monarch. The poor man
put his hand involuntarily to his high collar as if to explain
away his apparent arrogance, but in reality because he was
not breathing easily under the Schnorrer's attack.
" You are an uncharitable man," he panted hotly, driven
to a line of defence he had not anticipated. " I did it not
from wantonness, but from faith in Heaven. I know well
that God sits turning a wheel therefore I did not presume
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS. 11
to turn it myself. Did I not let Providence select who
should have the silver and who the gold, who the copper
and who the emptiness? Besides, God alone knows who
really needs my assistance I have made Him my almoner ;
I have cast my burden on the Lord."
" Epicurean ! " shrieked the Schnorrer. " Blasphemer !
Is it thus you would palter with the sacred texts ? Do you
forget what the next verse says : ' Bloodthirsty and deceitful
men shall not live out half their days ' ? Shame on you
you a Gabbai (treasurer) of the Great Synagogue. You
see I know you, Joseph Grobstock. Has not the beadle
of your Synagogue boasted to me that you have given him
a guinea for brushing your spatterdashes ? Would you think
of offering him a packet? Nay, it is the poor that are
trodden on they whose merits are in excess of those of
beadles. But the Lord will find others to take up his loans
for he who hath pity on the poor lendeth to the Lord.
You are no true son of Israel."
The Schnorrer's tirade was long enough to allow Grob-
stock to recover his dignity and his breath.
" If you really knew me, you would know that the Lord
is considerably in my debt," he rejoined quietly. " When
next you would discuss me, speak with the Psalms-men, not
the beadle. Never have I neglected the needy. Even
now, though you have been insolent and uncharitable, I
am ready to befriend you if you are in want."
" If I am in want ! " repeated the Schnorrer scornfully.
" Is there anything I do not want? "
"You are married?"
" You correct me wife and children are the only things
I do not lack."
" No pauper does," quoth Grobstock, with a twinkle of
restored humour.
12 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
" No," assented the Schnorrer sternly. " The poor man
has the fear of Heaven. He obeys the Law and the Com-
mandments. He marries while he is young and his
spouse is not cursed with barrenness. It is the rich man
who transgresses the Judgment, who delays to come under
the Canopy."
" Ah ! well, here is a guinea in the name of my wife,"
broke in Grobstock laughingly. " Or stay since you do
not brush spatterdashes here is another."
" In the name of my wife," rejoined the Schnorrer with
dignity, " I thank you."
" Thank me in your own name," said Grobstock. " I
mean tell it me."
" I am Manasseh Bueno Barzillai Azevedo da Costa," he
answered simply.
" A Sephardi ! " exclaimed the philanthropist.
" Is it not written on my face, even as it is written on
yours that you are a Tedesco ? It is the first time that I
have taken gold from one of your lineage."
" Oh, indeed ! " murmured Grobstock, beginning to feel
small again.
"Yes are we not far richer than your community?
What need have I to take the good deeds away from my
own people they have too few opportunities for benefi-
cence as it is, being so many of them wealthy ; brokers
and West India merchants, and "
" But I, too, am a financier, and an East India Director,"
Grobstock reminded him.
" Maybe ; but your community is yet young and struggling
your rich men are as the good men in Sodom for multi-
tude. You are the immigrants of yesterday refugees from
the Ghettoes of Russia and Poland and Germany. But we, as
you are aware, have been established here for generations ;
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS. 13
in the Peninsula our ancestors graced the courts of kings,
and controlled the purse-strings of princes ; in Holland we
held the empery of trade. Ours have been the poets and
scholars in Israel. You cannot expect that we should recog-
nise your rabble, which prejudices us in the eyes of England.
We made the name of Jew honourable ; you degrade it.
You are as the mixed multitude which came up with our
forefathers out of Egypt."
" Nonsense ! " said Grobstock sharply. " All Israel are
brethren."
" Esau was the brother of Israel," answered Manasseh
sententiously. " But you will excuse me if I go a-marketing,
it is such a pleasure to handle gold." There was a note of
wistful pathos in the latter remark which took off the edge
of the former, and touched Joseph with compunction for
bandying words with a hungry man whose loved ones were
probably starving patiently at home.
" Certainly, haste away," he said kindly.
" I shall see you again," said Manasseh, with a valedictory
wave of his hand, and digging his staff into the cobblestones
he journeyed forwards without bestowing a single backward
glance upon his benefactor.
Grobstock's road took him to Petticoat Lane in the wake
of Manasseh. He had no intention of following him, but
did not see why he should change his route for fear of the
Schnorrer, more especially as Manasseh did not look back.
By this time he had become conscious again of the bag he
carried, but he had no heart to proceed with the fun. He
felt conscience stricken, and had recourse to his pockets
instead in his progress through the narrow jostling market-
street, where he scarcely ever bought anything personally
save fish and good deeds. He was a connoisseur in both.
To-day he picked up many a good deed cheap, paying
14 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
pennies for articles he did not take away shoe-latchets
and cane-strings, barley-sugar and butter-cakes. Suddenly,
through a chink in an opaque mass of human beings, he
caught sight of a small attractive salmon on a fishmonger's
slab. His eye glittered, his chops watered. He elbowed his
way to the vendor, whose eye caught a corresponding gleam,
and whose finger went to his hat in respectful greeting.
"Good afternoon, Jonathan," said Grobstock jovially,
" I'll take that salmon there how much? "
" Pardon me," said a voice in the crowd, " I am just bar-
gaining for it."
Grobstock started. It was the voice of Manasseh.
"Stop that nonsense, da Costa," responded the fish-
monger. " You know you won't give me my price. It is
the only one I have left," he added, half for the benefit of
Grobstock. " I couldn't let it go under a couple of guineas."
"Here's your money," cried Manasseh with passionate
contempt, and sent two golden coins spinning musically
upon the slab.
In the crowd sensation, in Grobstock's breast astonish-
ment, indignation, and bitterness. He was struck momen-
tarily dumb. His face purpled. The scales of the salmon
shone like a celestial vision that was fading from him by his
own stupidity.
" I'll take that salmon, Jonathan," he repeated, splutter-
ing. " Three guineas."
" Pardon me," repeated Manasseh, " it is too late. This
is not an auction." He seized the fish by the tail.
Grobstock turned upon him, goaded to the point of
apoplexy. " You ! " he cried. " You you rogue ! How
dare you buy salmon ! "
" Rogue yourself ! " retorted Manasseh. " Would you
have me steal salmon?"
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS. 15
" You have stolen my money, knave, rascal ! "
" Murderer ! Shedder of blood ! Did you not give me
the money as a free-will offering, for the good of your wife's
" ' YOU ROGUE ! HOW DARE YOU BUY SALMON ! ' "
soul? I call on you before all these witnesses to confess
yourself a slanderer ! "
" Slanderer, indeed ! I repeat, you are a knave and a
jackanapes. You a pauper a beggar with a wife and
children. How can you have the face to go and spend two
16 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
guineas two whole guineas all you have in the world
on a mere luxury like salmon ? "
Manasseh elevated his arched eyebrows.
" If I do not buy salmon when I have two guineas," he
answered quietly, " when shall I buy salmon ? As you say,
it is a luxury ; very dear. It is only on rare occasions like
this that my means run to it." There was a dignified pathos
about the rebuke that mollified the magnate. He felt that
there was reason in the beggar's point of view though it
was a point to which he would never himself have risen,
unaided. But righteous anger still simmered in him ; he
felt vaguely that there was something to be said in reply,
though he also felt that even if he knew what it was, it
would have to be said in a lower key to correspond with
Manasseh's transition from the high pitch of the opening
passages. Not finding the requisite repartee he was silent.
" In the name of my wife," went on Manasseh, swinging
the salmon by the tail, " I ask you to clear my good name
which you have bespattered in the presence of my very
tradesmen. Again I call upon you to confess before these
witnesses that you gave me the money yourself in charity.
Come ! Do you deny it? "
" No, I don't deny it," murmured Grobstock, unable to
understand why he appeared to himself like a whipped cur,
or how what should have been a boast had been transformed
into an apology to a beggar.
" In the name of my wife, I thank you," said Manasseh.
" She loves salmon, and fries with unction. And now, since
you have no further use for that bag of yours, I will relieve
you of its burden by taking my salmon home in it." He
took the canvas bag from the limp grasp of the astonished
Tedesco, and dropped the fish in. The head protruded,
surveying the scene with a cold, glassy, ironical eye.
'THE HEAD PROTRUDED.'
17
18 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
" Good afternoon all," said the Schnorrer courteously.
"One moment," called out the philanthropist, when he
found his tongue. "The bag is not empty there are a
number of packets still left in it."
" So much the better ! " said Manasseh soothingly. " You
will be saved from the temptation to continue shedding the
blood of the poor, and I shall be saved from spending all
your bounty upon salmon an extravagance you were right
to deplore."
" But but ! " began Grobstock.
"No no'buts, "' protested Manasseh, waving his bag
deprecatingly. " You were right. You admitted you were
wrong before ; shall I be less magnanimous now ? In the
presence of all these witnesses I acknowledge the justice of
your rebuke. I ought not to have wasted two guineas on
one fish. It was not worth it. Come over here, and I will
tell you something." He walked out of earshot of the by-
standers, turning down a side alley opposite the stall, and
beckoned with his salmon bag. The East India Director
had no course but to obey. He would probably have
followed him in any case, to have it out with him, but now
he had a humiliating sense of being at the SchnorreSs beck
and call.
"Well, what more have you to say?" he demanded
gruffly.
"I wish to save you money in future," said the beggar
in low, confidential tones. " That Jonathan is a son of the
separation ! The salmon is not worth two guineas no, on
my soul ! If you had not come up I should have got it for
twenty-five shillings. Jonathan stuck on the price when he
thought you would buy. I trust you will not let me be the
loser by your arrival, and that if I should find less than
seventeen shillings in the bag you will make it up to me."
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS. 19
The bewildered financier felt his grievance disappearing
as by sleight of hand.
Manasseh added winningly : " I know you are a gentle-
man, capable of behaving as finely as any Sephardi."
This handsome compliment completed the Schnorrer's
victory, which was sealed by his saying, " And so I should
not like you to have it on your soul that you had done a
poor man out of a few shillings."
Grobstock could only remark meekly : " You will find
more than seventeen shillings in the bag."
"Ah, why were you born a Tedesco !" cried Manasseh
ecstatically. "Do you know what I have a mind to do?
To come and be your Sabbath-guest ! Yes, I will take
supper with you next Friday, and we will welcome the Bride
the holy Sabbath together ! Never before have I sat
at the table of a Tedesco but you you are a man after
my own heart. Your soul is a son of Spain. Next Friday
at six do not forget."
" But but I do not have Sabbath-guests," faltered Grob-
stock.
" Not have Sabbath-guests ! No, no, I will not believe
you are of the sons of Belial, whose table is spread only for
the rich, who do not proclaim your equality with the poor
even once a week. It is your fine nature that would hide
its benefactions. ' Do not I, Manasseh Bueno Barzillai Aze-
vedo da Costa, have at my Sabbath-table every week Yan-
kele ben Yitzchok a Pole? And if I have a Tedesco at
my table, why should I draw the line there ? Why should
I not permit you, a Tedesco, to return the hospitality to
me, a Sephardi ? At six, then ! I know your house well
it is an elegant building that does credit to your taste
do not be uneasy I shall not fail to be punctual. A
Dios ! "
20
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
This time he waved his stick fraternally, and stalked down
a turning. For an instant Grobstock stood glued to the spot,
crushed by a sense of the inevitable. Then a horrible thought
occurred to him.
"WAVED HIS STICK FRATERNALLY."
Easy-going man as he was, he might put up with the
visitation of Manasseh. But then he had a wife, and, what
was worse, a livery servant. How could he expect a livery
servant to tolerate such a guest? He might fly from the
town on Friday evening, but that would necessitate trouble-
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS. 21
some explanations. And Manasseh would come again the
next Friday. That was certain. Manasseh would be like
grim death his coming, though it might be postponed,
was inevitable. Oh, it was too terrible. At all costs he
must revoke the invitation ( ?) . Placed between Scylla and
Charybdis, between Manasseh and his manservant, he felt
he could sooner face the former.
" Da Costa ! " he called in agony. " Da Costa ! "
The Schnorrer turned, and then Grobstock found he was
mistaken in imagining he preferred to face da Costa.
"You called me?" enquired the beggar.
"Ye e s," faltered the East India Director, and stood
paralysed.
"What can I do for you?" said Manasseh graciously.
" Would you mind very much if I if I asked
you '
" Not to come," was in his throat, but stuck there.
"If you asked me " said Manasseh encouragingly.
"To accept some of my clothes," flashed Grobstock, with
a sudden inspiration. After all, Manasseh was a fine figure
of a man. If he could get him to doff those musty garments
of his he might almost pass him off as a prince of the blood,
foreign by his beard at any rate he could be certain of
making him acceptable to the livery servant. He breathed
freely again at this happy solution of the situation.
"Your cast-off clothes?" asked Manasseh. Grobstock
was not sure whether the tone was supercilious or eager.
He hastened to explain. " No, not quite that. Second-
hand things I am still wearing. My old clothes were already
given away at Passover to Simeon the Psalms-man. These
are comparatively new."
"Then I would beg you to excuse me," said Manasseh,
with a stately wave of the bag.
22 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
" Oh, but why not ? " murmured Grobstock, his blood
running cold again.
" I cannot,' 1 said Manasseh, shaking his head.
" But they will just about fit you," pleaded the philan-
thropist.
" That makes it all the more absurd for you to give them
to Simeon the Psalms-man," said Manasseh sternly. " Still,
since he is your clothes-receiver, I could not think of inter-
fering with his office. It is not etiquette. I am surprised
you should ask me if I should mind, Of course I should
mind I should mind very much."
" But he is not my clothes-receiver," protested Grobstock.
" Last Passover was the first time I gave them to him, be-
cause my cousin, Hyam Rosenstein, who used to have them,
has died."
" But surely he considers himself your cousin's heir," said
Manasseh. " He expects all your old clothes henceforth."
" No. I gave him no such promise."
Manasseh hesitated.
"Well, in that case "
" In that case," repeated Grobstock breathlessly.
" On condition that I am to have the appointment per-
manently, of course."
" Of course," echoed Grobstock eagerly.
" Because you see," Manasseh condescended to explain,
" it hurts one's reputation to lose a client."
" Yes, yes, naturally," said Grobstock soothingly. " I
quite understand." Then, feeling himself slipping into future
embarrassments, he added timidly, " Of course they will not
always be so good as the first lot, because "
" Say no more," Manasseh interrupted reassuringly, " I will
come at once and fetch them."
" No. I will send them," cried Grobstock, horrified afresh.
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS. 23
" I could not dream of permitting it. What ! Shall I
put you to all that trouble which should rightly be mine?
I will go at once the matter shall be settled without delay,
I promise you ; as it is written, ' I made haste and delayed
not ! ' Follow me ! " Grobstock suppressed a groan. Here
had all his manoeuvring landed him in a worse plight than
ever. He would have to present Manasseh to the livery
servant without even that clean face which might not un-
reasonably have been expected for the Sabbath. Despite
the text quoted by the erudite Schnorrer, he strove to put
off the evil hour.
" Had you not better take the salmon home to your wife
first?" said he.
" My duty is to enable you to complete your good deed
at once. My wife is unaware of the salmon. She is in no
suspense."
Even as the Schnorrer spake it flashed upon Grobstock
that Manasseh was more presentable with the salmon than
without it in fact, that the salmon was the salvation of the
situation. When Grobstock bought fish he often hired a
man to carry home the spoil. Manasseh would have all the
air of such a loafer. Who would suspect that the fish and
even the bag belonged to the porter, though purchased with
the gentleman's money? Grobstock silently thanked Provi-
dence for the ingenious way in which it had contrived to
save his self-respect. As a mere fish-carrier Manasseh would
attract no second glance from the household ; once safely
in, it would be comparatively easy to smuggle him out, and
when he did come on Friday night it would be in the meta-
morphosing glories of a body-coat, with his unspeakable
undergarment turned into a shirt and his turban knocked
into a cocked hat.
They emerged into Aldgate, and then turned down Leman
24
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
Street, a fashionable quarter, and so into Great Prescott
Street. At the critical street corner Grobstock's composure
began to desert him : he took out his handsomely ornamented
"ADMINISTERED A MIGHTY PINCH."
snuff-box and administered to himself a mighty pinch. It
did him good, and he walked on and was well nigh arrived
at his own door when Manasseh suddenly caught him by a
coat button.
" Stand still a second," he cried imperatively.
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS. 25
" What is it? " murmured Grobstock, in alarm.
" You have spilt snuff all down your coat front," Manasseh
replied severely. " Hold the bag a moment while I brush
it off."
Joseph obeyed, and Manasseh scrupulously removed
every particle with such patience that Grobstock's was
exhausted.
"Thank you," he said at last, as politely as he could.
" That will do."
" No, it will not do," replied Manasseh. "I cannot have
my coat spoiled. By the time it comes to me it will be
a mass of stains if I don't look after it."
"Oh, is that why you took so much trouble?" said
Grobstock, with an uneasy laugh.
" Why else ? Do you take me for a beadle, a brasher
of gaiters? " enquired Manasseh haughtily. " There now !
that is the cleanest I can get it. You would escape these
droppings if you held your snuff-box so " Manasseh
gently took the snuff-box and began to explain, walking on
a few paces.
"Ah, we are at home!" he cried, breaking off the
object-lesson suddenly. He pushed open the gate, ran up
the steps of the mansion and knocked thunderously, then
snuffed himself magnificently from the bejewelled snuff-box.
Behind came Joseph Grobstock, slouching limply, and
carrying Manasseh da Costa's fish.
26 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
CHAPTER II.
SHOWING HOW THE KING REIGNED.
WHEN he realised that he had been turned into a fish-
porter, the financier hastened up the steps so as to be at
the Schnorrer's side when the door opened.
The livery-servant was visibly taken aback by the spectacle
of their juxtaposition.
" This salmon to the cook ! " cried Grobstock desperately,
handing him the bag.
Da Costa looked thunders, and was about to speak, but
Grobstock's eye sought his in frantic appeal. "Wait a
minute ; I will settle with you," he cried, congratulating
himself on a phrase that would carry another meaning to
Wilkinson's ears. He drew a breath of relief when the
flunkey disappeared, and left them standing in the spacious
hall with its statues and plants.
" Is this the way you steal my salmon, after all ? " demanded
da Costa hotly.
" Hush, hush ! I didn't mean to steal it ! I will pay
you for it ! "
" I refuse to sell ! You coveted it from the first you
have broken the Tenth Commandment, even as these stone
figures violate the Second. Your invitation to me to accom-
pany you here at once was a mere trick. Now I understand
why you were so eager."
" No, no, da Costa. Seeing that you placed the fish in
my hands, I had no option but to give it to Wilkinson,
because because " Grobstock would have had some
difficulty in explaining, but Manasseh saved him the pain.
" You had to give my fish to Wilkinson ! " he interrupted.
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
27
" Sir, I thought you were a fine man, a man of honour. I
admit that I placed my fish in your hands. But because I
'THIS SALMON TO THE COOK!
had no hesitation in allowing you to carry it, this is how you
repay my confidence ! "
In the whirl of his thoughts Grobstock grasped at the
word " repay " as a swimmer in a whirlpool grasps at a straw.
28 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
" I will repay your money ! " he cried. " Here are your
two guineas. You will get another salmon, and more
cheaply. As you pointed out, you could have got this for
twenty-five shillings."
" Two guineas ! " ejaculated Manasseh contemptuously.
" Why you offered Jonathan, the fishmonger, three ! "
Grobstock was astounded, but it was beneath him to bar-
gain. And he remembered that, after all, he would enjoy
the salmon.
" Well, here are three guineas," he said pacifically, offer-
ing them.
" Three guineas ! " echoed Manasseh, spurning them.
"And what of my profit?"
" Profit ! " gasped Grobstock.
" Since you have made me a middle-man, since you have
forced me into the fish trade, I must have my profits like
anybody else."
" Here is a crown extra ! "
" And my compensation?"
"What do you mean? " enquired Grobstock, exasperated.
" Compensation for what? "
" For what? For two things at the very least," Manasseh
said unswervingly. " In the first place," and as he began
his logically divided reply his tone assumed the sing-song
sacred to Talmudical dialectics, " compensation for not
eating the salmon myself. For it is not as if I offered it
you I merely entrusted it to you, and it is ordained in
Exodus that if a man shall deliver unto his neighbour an
ass, or an ox, or a sheep, or any beast to keep, then for
every matter of trespass, whether it be for ox, for ass, for
sheep, for raiment, or for any manner of lost thing, the
man shall receive double, and therefore you should pay me
six guineas. And secondly "
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS. 29
" Not another farthing ! " spluttered Grobstock, red as
a turkey-cock.
"Very well," said the Schnorrer imperturbably, and,
lifting up his voice, he called " Wilkinson ! "
" Hush ! " commanded Grobstock. " What are you
doing ? "
" I will tell Wilkinson to bring back my property."
" Wilkinson will not obey you."
" Not obey me .' A servant ! Why he is not even black !
All the Sephardim I visit have black pages much grander
than Wilkinson and they tremble at my nod. At Baron
D'Aguilar's mansion in Broad Street Buildings there is a
retinue of twenty-four servants, and they "
" And what is your second claim ? "
" Compensation for being degraded to fishmongering. I
am not of those who sell things in the streets. I am a son
of the Law, a student of the Talmud."
" If a crown piece will satisfy each of these claims "
" I am not a blood-sucker as it is said in the Talmud,
Tractate Passover, ' God loves the man who gives not way
to wrath nor stickles for his rights ' that makes altogether
three guineas and three crowns."
" Yes. Here they are."
Wilkinson reappeared. "You called me, sir?" he said.
" No, / called you," said Manasseh, " I wished to give
you a crown."
And he handed him one of the three. Wilkinson took it,
stupefied, and retired.
"Did I not get rid of him cleverly?" said Manasseh.
" You see how he obeys me ! "
"Ye-es."
" I shall not ask you for more than the bare crown I gave
him to save your honour."
30 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
"To save my honour ! "
" Would you have had me tell him the real reason I
called him was that his master was a thief? No, sir, I was
careful not to shed your blood in public, though you had no
such care for mine."
" Here is the crown ! " said Grobstock savagely. " Nay,
here are three ! " He turned out his breeches-pockets to
exhibit their absolute nudity.
" No, no," said Manasseh mildly, " I shall take but two.
You had best keep the other you may want a little silver."
He pressed it into the magnate's hand.
"You should not be so prodigal in future," he added, in
kindly reproach. " It is bad to be left with nothing in one's
pocket I know the feeling, and can sympathise with you."
Grobstock stood speechless, clasping the crown of charity.
Standing thus at the hall door, he had the air of Wilkin-
son, surprised by a too generous vail.
Da Costa cut short the crisis by offering his host a pinch
from the jewel-crusted snuff-box. Grobstock greedily took
the whole box, the beggar resigning it to him without pro-
test. In his gratitude for this unexpected favour, Grobstock
pocketed the silver insult without further ado, and led the
way towards the second-hand clothes. He walked gingerly,
so as not to awaken his wife, who was a great amateur ot
the siesta, and might issue suddenly from her apartment like
a spider, but Manasseh stolidly thumped on the stairs with
his staff. Happily the carpet was thick.
The clothes hung in a mahogany wardrobe with a plate-
glass front in Grobstock's elegantly appointed bedchamber.
Grobstock rummaged among them while Manasseh,
parting the white Persian curtains lined with pale pink,
gazed out of the window towards the Tenterground that
stretched in the rear of the mansion. Leaning on his staff,
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
31
r
he watched the couples promenading among the sunlit par-
terres and amid the shrubberies, in the cool freshness of de-
clining day. Here
and there the vivid
face of a dark-eyed
beauty gleamed like
a passion - flower.
Manasseh surveyed
the scene with bland
benevolence ; at
peace with God and
man.
He did not deign
to bestow a glance
upon the garments
till Grobstock ob-
served : " There ! I
think that's all I can
spare." Then he
turned leisurely and
regarded with the
same benign aspect
the litter Grob-
stock had spread
upon the bed a
medley of articles
in excellent condi-
tion, gorgeous neck-
erchiefs piled in
three-cornered hats, and buckled shoes trampling on white
waistcoats. But his eye had scarcely rested on them a
quarter of a minute when a sudden flash came into it, and a
spasm crossed his face.
'GROBSTOCK RUMMAGED AMONG THEM."
32 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
" Excuse me ! " he cried, and hastened towards the door.
" What's the matter? " exclaimed Grobstock, in astonished
apprehension. Was his gift to be flouted thus ?
" I'll be back in a moment," said Manasseh, and hurried
down the stairs.
Relieved on one point, Grobstock was still full of vague
alarms. He ran out on the landing. " What do you want ? "
he called down as loudly as he dared.
" My money ! " said Manasseh.
Imagining that the Schnorrer had left the proceeds of
the sale of the salmon in the hall, Joseph Grobstock returned
to his room, and occupied himself half-mechanically in sort-
ing the garments he had thrown higgledy-piggledy upon the
bed. In so doing he espied amid the heap a pair of panta-
loons entirely new and unworn which he had carelessly
thrown in. It was while replacing this in the wardrobe that
he heard sounds of objurgation. The cook's voice Hiber-
nian and high-pitched travelled unmistakably to his ears,
and brought fresh trepidation to his heart. He repaired to
the landing again, and craned his neck over the balustrade.
Happily the sounds were evanescent ; in another minute
Manasseh's head reappeared, mounting. When his left
hand came in sight, Grobstock perceived it was grasping
the lucky-bag with which a certain philanthropist had started
out so joyously that afternoon. The unlucky-bag he felt
inclined to dub it now.
" I have recovered it ! " observed the Schnorrer cheer-
fully. " As it is written, ' And David recovered all that the
Amalekites had taken.' You see in the excitement of the
moment I did not notice that you had stolen my packets of
silver as well as my salmon. Luckily your cook had not
yet removed the fish from the bag I chid her all the same
for neglecting to put it into water, and she opened her
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS. 33
mouth not in wisdom. If she had not been a heathen I
should have suspected her of trickery, for I knew nothing of
the amount of money in the bag, saving your assurance that
it did not fall below seventeen shillings, and it would have
been easy for her to replace the fish. Therefore, in the
words of David, will I give thanks unto Thee, O Lord,
among the heathen."
The mental vision of the irruption of Manasseh into the
kitchen was not pleasant to Grobstock. However, he only
murmured : " How came you to think of it so suddenly?"
" Looking at your clothes reminded me. I was wonder-
ing if you had left anything in the pockets."
The donor started he knew himself a careless rascal
and made as if he would overhaul his garments. The glitter
in Manasseh's eye petrified him.
"Do you do you mind my looking? " he stammered
apologetically.
"Am I a dog?" quoted the Schnorrer with dignity.
"Am I a thief that you should go over my pockets? If,
when I get home," he conceded, commencing to draw dis-
tinctions with his thumb, " I should find anything in my
pockets that is of no value to anybody but you, do you fear
I will not return it ? If, on the other hand, I find anything
that is of value to me, do you fear I will not keep it?"
"No, but but " Grobstock broke down, scarcely
grasping the argumentation despite his own clarity of finan-
cial insight ; he only felt vaguely that the Schnorrer was
professionally enough begging the question.
" But what? " enquired Manasseh. " Surely you need not
me to teach you your duty. You cannot be ignorant of the
Law of Moses on the point."
" The Law of Moses says nothing on the point ! "
" Indeed ! What says Deuteronomy ? ' When thou reap-
34 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
est thine harvest in thy field, and hast forgot a sheaf in the
field, thou shalt not go again to fetch it : it shall be for the
stranger, for the fatherless, and for the widow. 1 Is it not
further forbidden to go over the boughs of thy olive-tree
again, or to gather the fallen fruit of thy vineyard? You
will admit that Moses would have added a prohibition
against searching minutely the pockets of cast-off garments,
were it not that for forty years our ancestors had to wander
in the wilderness in the same clothes, which miraculously
waxed with their growth. No, I feel sure you will respect
the spirit of the law, for when I went down into your kitchen
and examined the door-post to see if you had nailed up a
mezuzah upon it, knowing that many Jews only flaunt mezu-
zahs on door-posts visible to visitors, it rejoiced me to find
one below stairs."
Grobstock's magnanimity responded to the appeal. It
would be indeed petty to scrutinise his pockets, or to feel
the linings for odd coins. After all he had Manasseh's
promise to restore papers and everything of no value.
" Well, well," he said pleasantly, consoled by the thought
his troubles had now come to an end for that day at
least " take them away as they are."
" It is all very well to say take them away," replied
Manasseh, with a touch of resentment, " but what am I to
take them in? "
" Oh ah yes ! There must be a sack somewhere "
" And do you think I would carry them away in a sack ?
Would you have me look like an old clo' man? I must
have a box. I see several in the box-room."
" Very well," said Grobstock resignedly. " If there's an
empty one you may have it."
Manasseh laid his stick on the dressing-table and carefully
examined the boxes, some of which were carelessly open,
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
35
while every lock had a key sticking in it. They had travelled
far and wide with Grobstock, who invariably combined
pleasure with business.
"There is none quite empty," announced the Schnorrer,
"but in this one there are only a few trifles a pair of
"MANASSEH CAREFULLY EXAMINED THE BOXES."
galligaskins and such like so that if you make me a
present of them the box will be empty, so far as you are
concerned."
" All right," said Grobstock, and actually laughed. The
nearer the departure of the Schnorrer, the higher his spirits
rose.
Manasseh dragged the box towards the bed, and then for
36 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
the first time since his return from the under- regions, sur-
veyed the medley of garments upon it
The light-hearted philanthropist, watching his face, saw it
instantly change to darkness, like a tropical landscape. His
own face grew white. The Schnorrer uttered an inarticulate
cry, and turned a strange, questioning glance upon his
patron.
"What is it now?" faltered Grobstock.
" I miss a pair of pantaloons ! "
Grobstock grew whiter. " Nonsense ! nonsense ! " he
muttered.
"I miss a pair of pantaloons ! " reiterated the
Schnorrer deliberately.
"Oh, no you have all I can spare there," said Grob-
stock uneasily. The Schnorrer hastily turned over the
heap.
Then his eye flashed fire ; he banged his fist on the
dressing-table to accompany each staccato syllable.
"I miss a pair of pan ta loons ! " he
shrieked.
The weak and ductile donor had a bad quarter of a
minute.
" Perhaps," he stammered at last, " you m mean
the new pair I found had got accidentally mixed up with
them."
" Of course I mean the new pair ! And so you took them
away ! Just because I wasn't looking. I left the room,
thinking I had to do with a man of honour. If you had
taken an old pair I shouldn't have minded so much ; but
to rob a poor man of his brand-new breeches ! "
" I must have them," cried Grobstock irascibly. " I have
to go to a reception to-morrow, and they are the only pair
I shall have to wear. You see I "
I MISS A PAIR OF PANTALOONS ! ' HE SHRIEKED."
37
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
" Oh, very well," interrupted the Schnorrer, in low, indif-
ferent tones.
After that there was a dead silence. The Schnorrer
majestically folded some silk stockings and laid them in the
box. Upon them he packed other garments in stern, sor-
rowful hauteur. Grobstock's soul be-
gan to tingle with pricks of compunc-
tion. Da Costa completed his task,
but could not shut the overcrowded
box. Grobstock silently seated his
weighty person upon the lid. Ma-
nasseh neither resented nor welcomed
him. When he had
turned the key he
mutely tilted the sit-
ter off the box and
shouldered it with
consummate ease.
Then he took his
staff and strode from
the room. Grob-
stock would have fol-
lowed him, but the
Schnorrer waved
him back.
" On Friday, then," the conscience-stricken magnate said
feebly.
Manasseh did not reply; he slammed the door instead,
shutting in the master of the house.
Grobstock fell back on the bed exhausted, looking not
unlike the tumbled litter of clothes he replaced. In a
minute or two he raised himself and went to the window,
and stood watching the sun set behind the trees of the
'TILTED THE SITTER OFF THE BOX."
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS. 39
Tenterground. " At any rate I've done with him," he said,
and hummed a tune. The sudden bursting open of the door
froze it upon his lips. He was almost relieved to find the
intruder was only his wife.
"What have you done with Wilkinson?" she cried vehe-
mently. She was a pale, puffy-faced, portly matron, with a
permanent air of remembering the exact figure of her dowry.
"With Wilkinson, my dear? Nothing."
" Well, he isn't in the house. I want him, but cook says
you've sent him out."
" I ? Oh, no," he returned, with dawning uneasiness,
looking away from her sceptical gaze.
Suddenly his pupils dilated. A picture from without had
painted itself on his retina. It was a picture of Wilkinson
Wilkinson the austere, Wilkinson the unbending treading
the Tenterground gravel, curved beneath a box ! Before
him strode the Schnorrer.
Never dujing all his tenure of service in Goodman's
Fields had Wilkinson carried anything on his shoulders but
his livery. Grobstock would have as soon dreamt of his
wife consenting to wear cotton. He rubbed his eyes, but
the image persisted.
He clutched at the window curtains to steady himself.
" My Persian curtains ! " cried his wife. " What is the
matter with you ? "
" He must be the Baal Shem himself ! " gasped Grobstock
unheeding.
" What is it? What are you looking at? "
" N nothing."
Mrs. Grobstock incredulously approached the window and
stared through the panes. She saw Wilkinson in the gardens,
but did .not recognise him in his new attitude. She con-
cluded that her husband's agitation must have some connec-
40 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
tion with a beautiful brunette who was tasting the cool of the
evening in a sedan chair, and it was with a touch of asperity
that she said : " Cook complains of being insulted by a
saucy fellow who brought home your fish."
" Oh ! " said poor Grobstock. Was he never to be done
with the man?
" How came you to send him to her?"
His anger against Manasseh resurged under his wife's
peevishness.
"My dear," he cried, "I did not send him anywhere
except to the devil."
"Joseph ! You might keep such language for the ears of
creatures in sedan chairs."
And Mrs. Grobstock flounced out of the room with a
rustle of angry satin.
When Wilkinson reappeared, limp and tired, with his
pompousness exuded in perspiration, he sought his master
with a message, which he delivered ere the flood of interro-
gation could burst from Grobstock's lips.
" Mr. da Costa presents his compliments, and says that he
has decided on reconsideration not to break his promise to
be with you on Friday evening."
" Oh, indeed ! " said Grobstock grimly. " And, pray, how
came you to carry his box ? "
" You told me to, sir ! "
"/ told you ! "
" I mean he told me you told me to," said Wilkinson
wonderingly. " Didn't you ? "
Grobstock hesitated. Since Manasseh would be his
guest, was it not imprudent to give him away to the livery-
servant? Besides, he felt a secret pleasure in Wilkinson's
humiliation but for the Schnorrer he would never have
known that Wilkinson's gold lace concealed a pliable per-
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS. 41
sonality. The proverb " Like master like man " did not
occur to Grobstock at this juncture.
"I only meant you to carry it to a coach," he murmured.
" He said it was not worth while the distance was so
short."
"Ah! Did you see his house?" enquired Grobstock
curiously.
" Yes ; a very fine house in Aldgate, with a handsome
portico and two stone lions."
Grobstock strove hard not to look surprised.
" I handed the box to the footman."
Grobstock strove harder.
Wilkinson ended with a weak smile : " Would you believe,
sir, I thought at first he brought home your fish ! He
dresses so peculiarly. He must be an original."
"Yes, yes; an eccentric like Baron D'Aguilar, whom he
visits," said Grobstock eagerly. He wondered, indeed,
whether he was not speaking the truth. Could he have
been the victim of a practical joke, a prank? Did not
a natural aristocracy ooze from every pore of his mysterious
visitor? Was not every tone, every gesture, that of a man
born to rule? "You must remember, too," he added,
"that he is a Spaniard."
"Ah, I see," said Wilkinson in profound accents.
" I daresay he dresses like everybody else, though, when
he dines or sups, out," Grobstock added lightly. " I only
brought him in by accident. But go to your mistress ! She
wants you."
" Yes, sir. Oh, by the way, I forgot to tell you he hopes
you will save him a slice of his salmon."
" Go to your mistress ! "
" You did not tell me a Spanish nobleman was coming
to us on Friday," said his spouse later in the evening.
42 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
" No," he admitted curtly.
" But is he ? "
" No at least, not a nobleman."
"What then? I have to learn about my guests from
my servants."
" Apparently."
" Oh ! and you think that's right ! "
" To gossip with your servants? Certainly not."
" If my husband will not tell me anything if he has
only eyes for sedan chairs."
Joseph thought it best to kiss Mrs. Grobstock.
" A fellow- Director, I suppose? " she urged, more mildly.
" A fellow-Israelite. He has promised to come at six."
Manasseh was punctual to the second. Wilkinson ushered
him in. The hostess had robed herself in her best to do
honour to a situation which her husband awaited with what
hope he could. She looked radiant in a gown of blue silk ;
her hair was done in a tuft and round her neck was an
" esclavage," consisting of festoons of gold chains. The
Sabbath table was equally festive with its ponderous silver
candelabra, coffee-urn, and consecration cup, its flower-
vases, and fruit-salvers. The dining-room itself was a
handsome apartment; its buffets glittered with Venetian
glass and Dresden porcelain, and here and there gilt
pedestals supported globes of gold and silver fish.
At the first glance at his guest Grobstock's blood ran
cold.
Manasseh had not turned a hair, nor changed a single
garment. At the next glance Grobstock's blood boiled. A
second figure loomed in Manasseh's wake a short Schnorijer,
even dingier than da Costa, and with none of his dignity, a
clumsy, stooping Schnorrer, with a cajoling grin on his mud-
coloured, hairy face. Neither removed his headgear.
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
43
Mrs. Grobstock remained glued to her chair in astonish-
ment.
" Peace be unto you," said the King of Schnorrers, " I
"
"THOUGHT IT BEST TO KISS MRS. GROBSTOCK."
have brought with me my friend Yankele" ben Yitzchok of
whom I told you."
Yankele" nodded, grinning harder than ever.
"You never told me he was coming," Grobstock rejoined,
with an apoplectic air.
44 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
"Did I not tell you that he always supped with me on
Friday evenings? " Manasseh reminded him quietly. " It is
so good of him to accompany me even here he will make
the necessary third at grace."
The host took a frantic surreptitious glance at his wife.
It was evident that her brain was in a whirl, the evidence of
her senses conflicting with vague doubts of the possibilities
of Spanish grandeeism and with a lingering belief in her
husband's sanity.
Grobstock resolved to snatch the benefit of her doubts.
"My dear," said he, " this is Mr. da Costa."
" Manasseh Bueno Barzillai Azevedo da Costa," said the
Schnorrer.
The dame seemed a whit startled and impressed. She
bowed, but words of welcome were still congealed in her
throat.
"And this is Yanked ben Yitzchok," added Manasseh.
"A poor friend of mine. I do not doubt, Mrs. Grobstock,
that as a pious woman, the daughter of Moses Bernberg (his
memory for a blessing), you prefer grace with three."
"Any friend of yours is welcome ! " She found her lips
murmuring the conventional phrase without being able to
check their output.
" I never doubted that either," said Manasseh gracefully.
" Is not the hospitality of Moses Bernberg's beautiful daugh-
ter a proverb? "
Moses Bernberg's daughter could not deny this ; her salon
was the rendezvous of rich bagmen, brokers and bankers,
tempered by occasional young bloods and old bucks not of
the Jewish faith (nor any other). But she had never before
encountered a personage so magnificently shabby, nor ex-
tended her proverbial hospitality to a Polish Schnorrer un-
compromisingly musty. Joseph did not dare meet her eye.
AND THIS IS YANKELE BEN YITZCHOK,' ADDED MANASSEH.
46 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
" Sit down there, Yankele"," he said hurriedly, in ghastly
genial accents, and he indicated a chair at the farthest pos-
sible point from the hostess. He placed Manasseh next to
his Polish parasite, and seated himself as a buffer between
his guests and his wife. He was burning with inward indig-
nation at the futile rifling of his wardrobe, but he dared not
say anything in the hearing of his spouse.
" It is a beautiful custom, this of the Sabbath guest, is it
not, Mrs. Grobstock ? " remarked Manasseh as he took his
seat. " I never neglect it even when I go out to the
Sabbath-meal as to-night."
The late Miss Bernberg was suddenly reminded of auld
lang syne : her father (who according to a wag of the period
had divided his time between the Law and the profits) hav-
ing been a depositary of ancient tradition. Perhaps these
obsolescent customs, unsuited to prosperous times, had
lingered longer among the Spanish grandees. She seized an
early opportunity, when the Sephardic Schnorrer was taking
his coffee from Wilkinson, of putting the question to her
husband, who fell in weakly with her illusions. He knew
there was no danger of Manasseh's beggarly status leaking
out ; no expressions of gratitude were likely to fall from that
gentleman's lips. He even hinted that da Costa dressed so
fustily to keep his poor friend in countenance. Neverthe-
less, Mrs. Grobstock, while not without admiration for the
Quixotism, was not without resentment for being dragged into
it. She felt that such charity should begin and end at home.
" I see you did save me a slice of salmon," said Manasseh,
manipulating his fish.
"What salmon was that?" asked the hostess, pricking up
her ears.
" One I had from Mr. da Costa on Wednesday," said the
host.
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS. 47
" Oh, that ! It was delicious. I am sure it was very
kind of you, Mr. da Costa, to make us such a nice present,"
said the hostess, her resentment diminishing. " We had
company last night, and everybody praised it till none was
left. This is another, but I hope it is to your liking," she
finished anxiously.
" Yes, it's very fair, very fair, indeed. I don't know when
I've tasted better, except at the house of the President of
the Deputados. But Yankele here is a connoisseur in fish,
not easy to please. What say you, Yankele" ? "
Yankele" munched a muffled approval.
" Help yourself to more bread and butter, Yankele," said
Manasseh. "Make yourself at home remember you're
my guest." Silently he added : "The other fork ! "
Grobstock's irritation found vent in a complaint that the
salad wanted vinegar.
"How can you say so? It's perfect," said Mrs. Grob-
stock. " Salad is cook's speciality."
Manasseh tasted it critically. " On salads you must come
to me," he said. " It does not want vinegar," was his ver-
dict ; " but a little more oil would certainly improve it. Oh,
there is no one dresses salad like Hyman ! "
Hyman's fame as the Kosher chef who superintended
the big dinners at the London Tavern had reached
Mrs. Grobstock's ears, and she was proportionately im-
pressed.
" They say his pastry is so good," she observed, to be in
the running.
" Yes," said Manasseh, " in kneading and puffing he stands
alone."
"Our cook's tarts are quite as nice," said Grobstock
roughly.
" We shall see," Manasseh replied guardedly. " Though,
48 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
as for almond-cakes, Hyman himself makes none better than
I get from my cousin, Barzillai of Fenchurch Street."
" Your cousin ! " exclaimed Grobstock, " the West Indian
merchant ! "
"The same formerly of Barbadoes. Still, your cook
knows how to make coffee, though I can tell you do not get
it direct from the plantation like the wardens of my Syna-
gogue."
Grobstock was once again piqued with curiosity as to the
Schnorrer' s identity.
" You accuse me of having stone figures in my house," he
said boldly, " but what about the lions in front of yours? "
" I have no lions," said Manasseh.
" Wilkinson told me so. Didn't you, Wilkinson ? "
"Wilkinson is a slanderer. That was the house of Na-
thaniel Furtado."
Grobstock began to choke with chagrin. He perceived
at once that the Schnorrer had merely had the clothes con-
veyed direct to the house of a wealthy private dealer.
" Take care ! " exclaimed the Schnorrer anxiously, " you
are spluttering sauce all over that waistcoat, without any
consideration for me."
Joseph suppressed himself with an effort. Open discus-
sion would betray matters to his wife, and he was now too
deeply enmeshed in falsehoods by default. But he managed
to whisper angrily, " Why did you tell Wilkinson I ordered
him to carry your box?"
" To save your credit in his eyes. How was he to know
we had quarrelled ? He would have thought you discour-
teous to your guest."
"That's all very fine. But why did you sell my clothes? "
" You did not expect me to wear them ? No, I know my
station, thank God."
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS. 49
"What is that you are saying, Mr. da Costa?" asked the
hostess.
" Oh, we are talking of Dan Mendoza," replied Grobstock
glibly ; " wondering if he'll beat Dick Humphreys at Don-
caster."
" Oh, Joseph, didn't you have enough of Dan Mendoza
at supper last night?" protested his wife.
" It is not a subject / ever talk about," said the Schnor-
rer, fixing his host with a reproachful glance.
Grobstock desperately touched his foot under the table,
knowing he was selling his soul to the King of Schnorrers,
but too flaccid to face the moment.
" No, da Costa doesn't usually," he admitted. " Only
Dan Mendoza being a Portuguese I happened to ask if he
was ever seen in the Synagogue."
" If I had my way," growled da Costa, " he should be
excommunicated a bruiser, a defacer of God's image ! "
" By gad, no ! " cried Grobstock, stirred up. " If you
had seen him lick the Badger in thirty-five minutes on a
twenty-four foot stage
" Joseph ! Joseph ! Remember it is the Sabbath ! " cried
Mrs. Grobstock.
" I would willingly exchange our Dan Mendoza for your
David Levi," said da Costa severely.
David Levi was the literary ornament of the Ghetto ; a
shoe-maker and hat-dresser who cultivated Hebrew philology
and the Muses, and broke a lance in defence of his creed
with Dr. Priestley, the discoverer of Oxygen, and Tom
Paine, the discoverer of Reason.
" Pshaw ! David Levi ! The mad hatter ! " cried Grob-
stock. " He makes nothing at all out of his books."
"You should subscribe for more copies," retorted Ma-
nasseh.
50 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
" I would if you wrote them," rejoined Grobstock, with a
grimace.
" I got six copies of his Lingua Sacra" Manasseh de-
clared with dignity, " and a dozen of his translation of the
Pentateuch."
" You can afford it ! " snarled Grobstock, with grim
humour. " I have to earn my money."
" It is very good of Mr. da Costa, all the same," inter-
posed the hostess. " How many men, born to great posses-
sions, remain quite indifferent to learning ! "
" True, most true," said da Costa. " Men-of-the-Earth,
most of them."
After supper he trolled the Hebrew grace hilariously,
assisted by Yankele", and ere he left he said to the hostess,
" May the Lord bless you with children ! "
" Thank you," she answered, much moved.
" You see I should be so pleased to marry your daughter
if you had one."
"You are very complimentary," she murmured, but her
husband's exclamation drowned hers, " You marry my
daughter ! "
" Who else moves among better circles would be more
easily able to find her a suitable match ? "
" Oh, in that sense," said Grobstock, mollified in one
direction, irritated in another.
"In what other sense? You do not think I, a Sephardi,
would marry her myself ! "
" My daughter does not need your assistance," replied
Grobstock shortly.
" Not yet," admitted Manasseh, rising to go ; " but when
the time comes, where will you find a better marriage
broker? I have had a finger in the marriage of greater
men's daughters. You see, when I recommend a maiden
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS. 51
or a young man it is from no surface knowledge. I have
seen them in the intimacy of their homes above all I am
able to say whether they are of a good, charitable disposition.
Good Sabbath ! "
" Good Sabbath," murmured the host and hostess in fare-
well. Mrs. Grobstock thought he need not be above shak-
ing hands, for all his grand acquaintances.
"This way, Yankele"," said Manasseh, showing him to
the door. " I am so glad you were able to come you
must come again."
CHAPTER III.
SHOWING HOW HIS MAJESTY WENT TO THE THEATRE AND
WAS WOOED.
As Manasseh the Great, first beggar in Europe, sauntered
across Goodman's Fields, attended by his Polish parasite,
both serenely digesting the supper provided by the Treas-
urer of the Great Synagogue, Joseph Grobstock, a mar-
tial music clove suddenly the quiet evening air, and set
the Schnorrers 1 pulses bounding. From the Tenterground
emerged a squad of recruits, picturesque in white fatigue
dress, against which the mounted officers showed gallant in
blue surtouts and scarlet-striped trousers.
" Ah ! " said da Costa, with swelling breast. " There go
my soldiers ! "
" Your soldiers ! " ejaculated Yankete in astonishment.
Yes do you not see they are returning to the India
House in Leadenhall Street?"
"And vat of dat? " said Yankele", shrugging his shoulders
and spreading out his palms.
" What of that? Surely you have not forgotten that the
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
clodpate at whose house I have just entertained you is a
Director of the East India Company, whose soldiers these
are? "
"'THERE GO MY SOLDIERS.'"
"Oh," said Yankele,
his mystified face relax-
ing in a smile. The
smile fled before the
stern look in the .Span-
iard's eyes ; he hastened
to conceal his amusement. Yankele was by nature a droll,
and it cost him a good deal to take his patron as seriously as
that potentate took himself. Perhaps if Manasseh Bueno
Barzillai Azevedo da Costa had had more humour he would
have had less momentum. Your man of action is blind in
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS. 63
one eye. Caesar would not have come and conquered if he
had really seen.
Wounded by that temporary twinkle in his client's eye,
the patron moved on silently, in step with the military air.
" It is a beautiful night," observed Yankeld in contrition.
The words had hardly passed his lips before he became con-
scious that he had spoken the truth. The moon was peep-
ing from behind a white cloud, and the air was soft, and
broken shadows of foliage lay across the path, and the
music was a song of love and bravery. Somehow, Yankel
began to think of da Costa's lovely daughter. Her face
floated in the moonlight.
Manasseh shrugged his shoulders, unappeased.
" When one has supped well, it is always a beautiful
night," he said testily. It was as if the cloud had overspread
the moon, and a thick veil had fallen over the face of da
Costa's lovely daughter. But Yankel recovered himself
quickly.
" Ah, yes," he said, " you have indeed made it a beau-
diful night for me."
The King of Schnorrers waved his staff deprecatingly.
" It is alvays a beaudiful night ven I am mid you," added
Yankeld, undaunted.
"It is strange," replied Manasseh musingly, "that I
should have admitted to my hearth and Grobstock's table
one who is, after all, but a half-brother in Israel."
" But Grobstock is also a Tedesco," protested Yankele.
" That is also what I wonder at," rejoined da Costa. " I
cannot make out how I have come to be so familiar with
him."
" You see ! " ventured the Tedesco timidly. " P'raps
ven Grobstock had really had a girl you might even have
come to marry her."
54 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
" Guard your tongue ! A Sephardi cannot marry a Te-
desco ! It would be a degradation."
"Yes but de oder vay round. A Tedesco can marry a
Sephardi, not so ? Dat is a rise. If Grobstock's daughter
had married you, she vould have married above her," he
ended, with an ingenuous air.
"True," admitted Manasseh. "But then, as Grobstock's
daughter does not exist, and my wife does ! "
"Ah, but if you vas me," said Yankele", "vould you rader
marry a Tedesco or a Sephardi ? "
"A Sephardi, of course. But "
"I vill be guided by you," interrupted the Pole hastily.
"You be de visest man I have ever known."
"But " Manasseh repeated.
" Do not deny it. You be ! Instantly vill I seek out a
Sephardi maiden and ved her. P'raps you crown your
counsel by choosing von for me. Vat?"
Manasseh was visibly mollified.
"How do I know your taste?" he asked hesitatingly.
"Oh, any Spanish girl would be a prize," replied Yankele".
" Even ven she had a face like a Passover cake. But still I
prefer a Pentecost blossom."
"What kind of beauty do you like best?"
"Your daughter's style," plumply answered the Pole.
" But there are not many like that," said da Costa unsus-
piciously.
"No she is like de Rose of Sharon. But den dere are
not many handsome faders."
Manasseh bethought himself. " There is Gabriel, the
corpse-watcher's daughter. People consider his figure and
deportment good."
" Pooh ! Offal ! She's ugly enough to keep de Messiah
from coming. Vy, she's like cut out of de fader's face !
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS. 55
Besides, consider his occupation ! You vould not advise
dat I marry into such a low family ! Be you not my bene-
factor?"
"Well, but I cannot think of any good-looking girl that
would be suitable."
Yankel6 looked at him with a roguish, insinuating smile.
" Say not dat ! Have you not told Grobstock you be de
first of marriage-brokers ?"
But Manasseh shook his head.
"No, you be quite* right," said Yankele' humbly; "I could
not get a really beaudiful girl unless I married your Deborah
herself."
"No, I am afraid not," said Manasseh sympathetically.
Yankete took the plunge.
"Ah, vy can I not hope to call you fader-in-law ? "
Manasseh's face was contorted by a spasm of astonish-
ment and indignation. He came to a standstill.
"Dat must be a fine piece," said Yankele' quickly, indi-
cating a flamboyant picture of a fearsome phantom hovering
over a sombre moat. 9
They had arrived at Leman Street, and had stopped be-
fore Goodman's Fields Theatre. Manasseh's brow cleared.
"It is The Castle Spectre," he said graciously. "Would
you like to see it?"
"But it is half over "
"Oh, no," said da Costa, scanning the play bill. "There
was a farce by O'Keefe to start with. The night is yet
young. The drama will be just beginning."
"But it is de Sabbath ve must not pay."
Manasseh's brow clouded again in wrathful righteous sur-
prise. "Did you think I was going to pay?" he gasped.
"N-n-no," stammered the Pole, abashed. "But you
haven't got no orders?"
56 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
" Orders ? Me ? Will you do me the pleasure of accept-
ing a seat in my box?"
"In your box?"
" ' DAT MUST BE A FINE PIECE.' "
"Yes, there is plenty of room. Come this way," said Ma-
nasseh. " I haven't been to the play myself for over a year.
I am too busy always. It will be an agreeable change."
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS. 57
Yankele" hung back, bewildered.
"Through this door," said Manasseh encouragingly.
"Come you shall lead the way."
" But dey vill not admit me ! "
" Will not admit you ! When I give you a seat in my
box ! Are you mad ? Now you shall just go in without
me I insist upon it. I will show -you Manasseh Bueno
Barzillai Azevedo da Costa is a man whose word is the Law
of Moses ; true as the Talmud. Walk straight through the
portico, and, if the attendant endeavours to stop you, simply
tell him Mr. da Costa has given you a seat in his box."
Not daring to exhibit scepticism nay, almost confident
in the powers of his extraordinary protector, Yankele put
his foot on the threshold of the lobby.
"But you be coming, too?" he said, turning back.
"Oh, yes, I don't intend to miss the performance. Have
no fear."
Yankele" walked boldly ahead, and brushed by the door-
keeper of the little theatre without appearing conscious of
him ; indeed, the official was almost impressed into letting
the Schnorrer pass unquestioned as one who had gone out
between the acts. But the visitor was too dingy for any-
thing but the stage-door he had the air of those non-
descript beings who hang mysteriously about the hinder
recesses of playhouses. Recovering himself just in time,
the functionary (a meek little Cockney) hailed the intruder
with a backward -drawing " Hi ! "
" Vat you vant ? " said Yankele", turning his head.
"Vhere's your ticket?"
" Don't vant no ticket."
" Don't you ? I does," rejoined the little man, who was
a humorist.
" Mr. da Costa has given me a seat in his box."
58 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
" Oh, indeed ! You'd swear to that in the box? "
" By my head. He gave it me."
"A seat in his box?"
"Yes."
"Mr. da Costa, you vos a-sayin', I think?"
" The same."
"Ah ! this vay, then !"
And the humorist pointed to the street.
Yankele" did not budge.
" This vay, my lud ! " cried the little humorist peremptorily.
" I tells you I'm going into Mr. da Costa's box ! "
"And I tells you you're a-goin' into the gutter." And
the official seized him by the scruff of the neck and began
pushing him forwards with his knee.
" Now then ! what's this? "
A stern, angry voice broke like a thunderclap upon the
humorist's ears. He released his hold of the Schnorrer
and looked up, to behold a strange, shabby, stalwart figure
towering over him in censorious majesty.
"Why are you hustling this poor man?" demanded
Manasseh.
"He wanted to sneak in," the little Cockney replied,
half apologetically, half resentfully. " Expect 'e 'ails from
Saffron '111, and 'as 'is eye on the vipes. Told me some
gammon a cock-and-bull story about having a seat in a
box."
"In Mr. da Costa's box, I suppose?" said Manasseh,
ominously calm, with a menacing glitter in his eye.
"Ye-es," said the humorist, astonished and vaguely
alarmed. Then the storm burst.
"You impertinent scoundrel ! You jackanapes ! You
low, beggarly rapscallion ! And so you refused to show my
guest into my box ! "
NOW THEN! WHAT'S THIS?'"
60 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
"Are you Mr. da Costa?" faltered the humorist.
" Yes, / am Mr. da Costa, but you won't much longer be
doorkeeper, if this is the way you treat people who come to
see your pieces. Because, forsooth, the man looks poor,
you think you can bully him safely forgive me, Yankele,
I am so sorry I did not manage to come here before you,
and spare you this insulting treatment ! And as for you,
my fine fellow, let me tell you that you make a great mistake
in judging from appearances. There are some good friends
of mine who could buy up your theatre and you and your
miserable little soul at a moment's notice, and to look at
them you would think they were cadgers. One of these
days hark you ! you will kick out a person of quality,
and be kicked out yourself."
"I I'm very sorry, sir."
" Don't say that to me. It is my guest you owe an apol-
ogy to. Yes and, by Heaven ! you shall pay it, though
he is no plutocrat, but only what he appears. Surely, be-
cause I wish to give a treat to a poor man who has, perhaps,
never been to the play in his life, I am not bound to send
him to the gallery I can give him a corner in my box il
I choose. There is no rule against that, I presume? "
" No, sir, I can't say as there is," said the humorist
humbly. " But you will allow, sir, it's rayther unusual."
" Unusual ! Of course, it's unusual. Kindness and con-
sideration for the poor are always unusual. The poor are
trodden upon at every opportunity, treated like dogs, not
men. If I had invited a drunken fop, you'd have met him
hat in hand (no, no, you needn't take it off to me now ; it's
too late). But a sober, poor man by gad ! I shall report
your incivility to the management, and you'll be lucky if I
don't thrash you with this stick into the bargain."
" But 'ow vos I to know, sir? "
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS. 61
" Don't speak to me, I tell you. If you have anything to
urge in extenuation of your disgraceful behaviour, address
your remarks to my guest."
"You'll overlook it this time, sir," said the little humorist,
turning to Yankele.
"Next time, p'raps, you believe me ven I say I have a
seat in Mr. da Costa's box," replied Yankel, in gentle
reproach.
" Well, if you're satisfied, Yanked," said Manasseh, with a
touch of scorn, "I have no more to say. Go along, my
man, show us to our box."
The official bowed and led them into the corridor. Sud-
denly he turned back.
"What box is it, please?" he said timidly.
" Blockhead ! " cried Manasseh. " Which box should it
be? The empty one, of course."
" But, sir, there are two boxes empty," urged the poor
humorist deprecatingly, " the stage-box and the one by the
gallery."
" Dolt ! Do I look the sort of person who is content with
a box on the ceiling? Go back to your post, sir I'll find
the box myself Heaven send you wisdom go back,
some one might sneak in while you are away, and it would
just serve you right." ,
The little man slunk back half dazed, glad to escape from
this overwhelming personality, and in a few seconds Manasseh
stalked into the empty box, followed by Yankele^ whose mouth
was a grin and whose eye a twinkle. As the Spaniard took
his seat there was a slight outburst of clapping and stamping
from a house impatient for the end of the entr'acte.
Manasseh craned his head over the box to see the house,
which in turn craned to see him, glad of any diversion, and
some people, imagining the applause had reference to the
62
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
new-comer, whose head appeared to be that of a foreigner
of distinction, joined in it. The contagion spread, and in a
minute Manasseh was the cynosure of all eyes and the
unmistakable recipient of
an " ovation." He bowed
twice or thrice in un-
ruffled dignity.
There were some who
recognised him, but they
joined in the reception
with wondering amuse-
ment. Not a few, in-
deed, of the audience were Jews, for Goodman's Fields
was the Ghetto Theatre, and the Sabbath was not a suffi-
cient deterrent to a lax generation. The audiences
mainly German and Poles came to the little unfashionable
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS. 63
playhouse as one happy family. Distinctions of rank were
trivial, and gallery held converse with circle, and pit col-
logued with box. Supper parties were held on the benches.
In a box that gave on the pit a portly Jewess sat stiffly,
arrayed in the very pink of fashion, in a spangled robe of
India muslin, with a diamond necklace and crescent, her
head crowned by terraces of curls and flowers.
"Betsy !" called up a jovial feminine voice from the pit,
when the applause had subsided.
" Betsy " did not move, but her cheeks grew hot and red.
She had got on in the world, and did not care to recognise
her old crony.
"Betsy!" iterated the well-meaning woman. "By your
life and mine, you must taste a piece of my fried fish." And
she held up a slice of cold plaice, beautifully browned.
Betsy drew back, striving unsuccessfully to look uncon-
scious. To her relief the curtain rose, and The Castle
Spectre walked. Yankel, who had scarcely seen anything
but private theatricals, representing the discomfiture of the
wicked Haman and the triumph of Queen Esther (a role he
had once played himself, in his mother's old clothes), was
delighted with the thrills and terrors of the ghostly melo-
drama. It was not till the conclusion of the second act
that the emotion the beautiful but injured heroine cost him
welled over again into matrimonial speech.
" Ve vind up de night glorious," he said.
" I am glad you like it. It is certainly an enjoyable per
formance," Manasseh answered with stately satisfaction.
"Your daughter, Deborah," Yankele" ventured timidly,
" do she ever go to de play?"
" No, I do not take my womankind about. Their duty
lies at home. As it is written, I call my wife not ' wife ' but
' home.' "
64 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
" But dink how dey vould enjoy deirselves ! "
"We are not sent here to enjoy ourselves."
"True most true," said Yankele, pulling a smug face.
" Ve be sent here to obey de Law of Moses. But do not
remind me I be a sinner in Israel."
" How so?"
" I am twenty-five yet I have no vife."
"I daresay you had plenty in Poland."
"By my soul, not. Only von, and her I gave gett
(divorce) for barrenness. You can write to de Rabbi of my
town."
" Why should I write ? It's not my affair."
" But I vant it to be your affair."
Manasseh glared. "Do you begin that again?" he mur-
mured.
" It is not so much dat I desire your daughter for a vife
as you for a fader-in-law."
" It cannot be ! " said Manasseh more gently.
" Oh dat I had been born a Sephardi ! " said Yankele with
a hopeless groan.
" It is too late now," said da Costa soothingly.
"Dey say it's never too late to mend," moaned the Pole.
" Is dere no vay for me to be converted to Spanish Judaism ?
I could easily pronounce Hebrew in your superior vay."
" Our Judaism differs in no essential respect from yours
it is a question of blood. You cannot change your blood.
As it is said, 'And the blood is the life.' "
" I know, I know dat I aspire too high. Oh, vy did you
become my friend, vy did you make me believe you cared
for me so dat I tink of you day and night and now, ven
I ask you to be my fader-in-law, you say it cannot be. It
is like a knife in de heart ! Tink how proud and happy I
should be to call you my fader-in-law. All my life vould be
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS. 65
devoted to you my von thought to be vordy of such a
man."
"You are not the first I have been compelled to refuse,"
said Manasseh, with emotion.
"Vat helps me dat dere be other Schlemihls (unlucky
persons) ? " quoted Yanked, with a sob. " How can I live
midout you for a fader-in-law ? "
" I am sorry for you more sorry than I have ever
been."
" Den you do care for me ! I vill not give up hope. I
vill not take no for no answer. Vat is dis blood dat it
should divide Jew from Jew, dat it should prevent me
becoming de son-in-law of de only man I have ever loved ?
Say not so. Let me ask you again in a month or a year
even twelve months vould I vait, ven you vould only
promise not to pledge yourself to anoder man."
" But if I became your father-in-law mind, I only say if
not only would I not keep you, but you would have to
keep my Deborah."
"And supposing?"
" But you are not able to keep a wife ! "
"Not able? Who told you dat?" cried Yankele indig-
nantly.
" You yourself ! Why, when I first befriended you, you
told me you were blood- poor."
" Dat I told you as a Schnorrer. But now I speak to
you as a suitor."
"True," admitted Manasseh, instantly appreciating the
distinction.
" And as a suitor I tell you I can schnorr enough to keep
two vives."
" But do you tell this to da Costa the father or da Costa
the marriage-broker?"
66 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
" Hush ! " from all parts of the house as the curtail
went up and the house settled down. But Yankele was no
longer in rapport with the play ; the spectre had ceased to
thrill and the heroine to touch. His mind was busy with
feverish calculations of income, scraping together every
penny he could raise by hook or crook. He even drew
out a crumpled piece of paper and a pencil, but thrust
them back into his pocket when he saw Manasseh's eye.
" I forgot," he murmured apologetically. " Being at de
play made me forget it was de Sabbath." And he pursued
his calculations mentally ; this being naturally less work.
When the play was over the two beggars walked out into
the cool night air.
"I find," Yanked began eagerly in the vestibule, "I
make at least von hundred and fifty pounds" he paused
to acknowledge the farewell salutation of the little door-
keeper at his elbow "a hundred and fifty a year."
" Indeed ! " said Manasseh, in respectful astonishment.
" Yes ! I have reckoned it all up. Ten are de sources
of charity "
"As it is written," interrupted Manasseh with unction,
" ' With ten sayings was the world created ; there were ten
generations from Noah to Abraham ; with ten trials our
father Abraham was tried ; ten miracles were wrought for
our fathers in Egypt and ten at the Red Sea ; and ten
things were created on the eve of the Sabbath in the twi-
light ! ' And now it shall be added, ' Ten good deeds the
poor man affords the rich man.' Proceed, YankeleV'
"First comes my allowance from de Synagogue eight
pounds. Vonce a veek I call and receive half-a-crown."
" Is that all? Our Synagogue allows three-and-six."
" Ah ! " sighed the Pole wistfully. " Did I not say yoir
be a superior race? "
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS. 67
" But that only makes six pound ten ! "
" I know de oder tirty shillings I allow for Passover
cakes and groceries. Den for Synagogue-knocking I get
ten guin "
" Stop ! stop ! " cried Manasseh, with a sudden scruple.
" Ought I to listen to financial details on the Sabbath ? "
" Certainly, ven dey be connected vid my marriage
vich is a Commandment. It is de Law ve really discuss."
"You are right. Go on, then. But remember, even if
you can prove you can schnorr enough to keep a wife, I do
not bind myself to consent."
"You be already a fader to me vy vill you not be a
fader-in-law? Anyhow, you vill find me a fader-in-law,"
he added hastily, seeing the blackness gathering again on
da Costa's brow.
" Nay, nay, we must not talk of business on the Sabbath,"
said Manasseh evasively. " Proceed with your statement of
income."
"Ten guineas for Synagogue-knocking. I have tventy
clients who "
" Stop a minute ! I cannot pass that item."
" Vy not? It is true."
" Maybe ! But Synagogue-knocking is distinctly work ! "
"York?"
" Well, if going round early in the morning to knock at
the doors of twenty pious persons, and rouse them for
morning service, isn't work, then the Christian bell-ringer
is a beggar. No, no ! Profits from this source I cannot
regard as legitimate."
" But most Schnorrers be Synagogue-knockers ! "
" Most Schnorrers are Congregation-men or Psalms-men,"
retorted the Spaniard witheringly. " But I call it debasing.
What ! To assist at the services for a fee ! To worship
68 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
one's Maker for hire ! Under such conditions to pray is to
work." His breast swelled with majesty and scorn.
" I cannot call it vork," protested the Schnorrer. " Vy
at dat rate you vould make out dat de minister vorks ? or de
preacher? Vy, I reckon fourteen pounds a year to my
services as Congregation-man."
" Fourteen pounds ! As much as that? "
" Yes, you see dere's my private customers as veil as de
Synagogue. Ven dere is mourning in a house dey cannot
alvays get together ten friends for de services, so I make
von. How can you call that vork ? It is friendship. And
the more dey pay me de more friendship I feel," asserted
Yankele with a twinkle. " Den de Synagogue allows me a
little extra for announcing de dead."
In those primitive times, when a Jewish newspaper was
undreamt of, the day's obituary was published by a peripa-
tetic Schnorrer^ who went about the Ghetto rattling a pyx
a copper money-box with a handle and a lid closed by a
padlock. On hearing this death-rattle, anyone who felt
curious would ask the Schnorrer :
" Who's dead to-day? "
"So-and-so ben So-and-so funeral on such a day
mourning service at such an hour," the Schnorrer would
reply, and the enquirer would piously put something into
the "byx," as it was called. The collection was handed
over to the Holy Society in other words, the Burial
Society.
" P'raps you call that vork? " concluded Yankete, in timid
challenge.
" Of course I do. What do you call it? "
" Valking exercise. It keeps me healty. Vonce von of
my customers (from whom I schnorred half-a-crown a veek)
said he was tired of my coming and getting it every Friday.
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS. 69
He vanted to compound mid me for six pound a year, but
I vouldn't."
"But it was a very fair offer. He only deducted ten
shillings for the interest on his money."
" Dat I didn't mind. But I vanted a pound more for his
depriving me of my valking exercise, and dat he vouldn't
pay, so he still goes on giving me de half-crown a veek.
Some of dese charitable persons are terribly mean. But vat
I vant to say is dat I carry de byx mostly in the streets
vere my customers lay, and it gives me more standing as a
Schnorrer"
" No, no, that is a delusion. What ! Are you weak-
minded enough to believe that? All the philanthropists say
so, of course, but surely you know that schnorring and work
should never be mixed. A man cannot do two things
properly. He must choose his profession, and stick to it.
A friend of mine once succumbed to the advice of the phi-
lanthropists instead of asking mine. He had one of the best
provincial rounds in the kingdom, but in every town he
weakly listened to the lectures of the president of the con-
gregation inculcating work, and at last he actually invested
the savings of years in jewellery, and went round trying to
peddle it. The presidents all bought something to encour-
age him (though they beat down the price so that there
was no profit in it), and they all expressed their pleasure
at his working for his living, and showing a manly indepen-
dence. ' But I schnorr also,' he reminded them, holding
out his hand when they had finished. It was in vain. No
one gave him a farthing. He had blundered beyond re-
demption. At one blow he had destroyed one of the most
profitable connections a Schnorrer ever had, and without
even getting anything for the goodwill. So if you will be
guided by me, Yankele", you will do nothing to assist the
70 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
philanthropists to keep you. It destroys their satisfaction.
A Schnorrer cannot be too careful. And once you begin
to work, where are you to draw the line ? "
" But you be a marriage- broker yourself," said Yankel
imprudently.
" That ! " thundered Manasseh angrily, " That is not work !
That is pleasure ! "
" Vy look ! Dere is Hennery Simons," cried Yankele,
hoping to divert his attention. But he only made matters
worse.
Henry Simons was a character variously known as the
Tumbling Jew, Harry the Dancer, and the Juggling Jew.
He was afterwards to become famous as the hero of a
slander case which deluged England with pamphlets for
and against, but for the present he had merely outraged the
feelings of his fellow Schnorrers by budding out in a direc-
tion so rare as to suggest preliminary baptism. He stood
now playing antic and sleight-of-hand tricks surrounded
by a crowd a curious figure crowned by a velvet skull-cap
from which wisps of hair protruded, with a scarlet handker-
chief thrust through his girdle. His face was an olive oval,
bordered by ragged tufts of beard and stamped with melan-
choly.
"You see the results of working," cried Manasseh. "It
brings temptation to work on Sabbath. That Epicurean
there is profaning the Holy Day. Come away ! A Schnor-
rer is far more certain of The-World-To-Come. No, de-
cidedly, I will not give my daughter to a worker, or to a
Schnorrer who makes illegitimate profits."
" But I make de profits all de same," persisted Yankele".
" You make them to-day but to-morrow? There is no
certainty about them. Work of whatever kind is by its very
nature unreliable. At any moment trade may be slack.
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS. 71
People may become less pious, and you lose your Synagogue-
knocking. Or more pious and they won't want congre-
gation-men."
" But new Synagogues spring up," urged Yankele".
"New Synagogues are full of enthusiasm," retorted
Manasseh. "The members are their own congregation-
men."
Yankele" had his roguish twinkle. " At first," he admitted,
" but de Schnorrer vaits his time."
Manasseh shook his head. " Schnorring is the only occu-
pation that is regular all the year round," he said. " Every-
thing else may fail the greatest commercial houses may
totter to the ground ; as it is written, He humbleth the
proud.' But the Schnorrer is always secure. Whoever
falls, there are always enough left to look after him. If you
were a father, Yankele", you would understand my feelings.
How can a man allow his daughter's future happiness to
repose on a basis so uncertain as work? No, no. What
do you make by your district visiting ? Everything turns on
that."
" Tventy-five shilling a veek ! "
"Really?"
" Law of Moses ! In sixpences, shillings, and half-
crowns. Vy in Houndsditch alone, I have two streets all
except a few houses."
" But are they safe ? Population shifts. Good streets go
down."
" Dat tventy-five shillings is as safe as Mocatta's business.
I have it all written down at home you can inspect de
books if you choose."
"No, no," said Manasseh, with a grand wave of his stick.
" If I did not believe you, I should not entertain your pro-
posal fpr a moment. It rejoices me exceedingly to find you
72 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
have devoted so much attention to this branch. I always
held strongly that the rich should be visited in their own
homes, and I grieve to see this personal touch, this contact
with the very people to whom you give the good deeds,
being replaced by lifeless circulars. One owes it to one's
position in life to afford the wealthy classes the opportunity
of charity warm from the heart ; they should not be neg-
lected and driven in their turn to write cheques in cold
blood, losing all that human sympathy which comes from
personal intercourse as it is written, 'Charity delivers
from death.' But do you think charity that is given publicly
through a secretary and advertised in annual reports has so
great a redeeming power as that slipped privately into the
hands of the poor man, who makes a point of keeping
secret from every donor what he has received from the
others? "
" I am glad you don't call collecting de money vork,"
said Yankel, with a touch of sarcasm which was lost on da
Costa.
"No, so long as the donor can't show any 'value re-
ceived ' in return. And there's more friendship in such a
call, Yankele, than in going to a house of mourning to pray
for a fee."
" Oh," said Yankele, wincing. " Den p'raps you strike out
all my Year-Time item ! "
" Year-Time ! What's that ? "
"Don't you know?" said the Pole, astonished. "Ven a
man has Year-Time, he feels charitable for de day."
" Do you mean when he commemorates the anniversary
of the death of one of his family? We Sephardim call that
' making years ' ! But are there enough Year-Times, as you
call them, in your Synagogue ? "
" Dere might be more I only make about fifteen
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS. 73
pounds. Our colony is, as you say, too new. De Globe
Road Cemetery is as empty as a Synagogue on veek-days.
De faders have left deir faders on de Continent, and kept
many Year-Times out of de country. But in a few years
many faders and moders must die off here, and every parent
leaves two or tree sons to have Year- Times, and every child
two or tree broders and a fader. Den every day more
German Jews come here vich means more and more to
die. I tink indeed it vould be fair to double this item."
" No, no ; stick to facts. It is an iniquity to speculate
in the misfortunes of our fellow-creatures."
" Somebody must die dat I may live," retorted Yankel6
roguishly ; " de vorld is so created. Did you not quote,
' Charity delivers from death ' ? If people lived for ever,
Schnorrers could not live at all."
" Hush ! The world could not exist without Schnorrers.
As it is written, ' And Repentance and Prayer and CHARITY
avert the evil decree.' Charity is put last it is the climax
the greatest thing on earth. And the Schnorrer is
the greatest man on earth; for it stands in the Talmud,
' He who causes is greater than he who does.' Therefore,
the Schnorrer who causes charity is even greater than he
who gives it."
" Talk of de devil," said Yankele, who had much difficulty
in keeping his countenance when Manasseh became mag-
nificent and dithyrambic. " Vy, dere is Greenbaum, whose
fader vas buried yesterday. Let us cross over by accident
and vish him long life."
" Greenbaum dead ! Was that the Greenbaum on
'Change, who was such a rascal with the wenches?"
" De same," said Yankete. Then approaching the son,
he cried, " Good Sabbath, Mr. Greenbaum ; I vish you long
life. Vat a blow for de community ! "
74
THE KING GF SCHNORRERS.
" It comforts me to hear you say so," said the son, with
a sob in his voice.
" Ah, yes ! " said Yanked chokingly. " Your fader vas
a great and good man just my size."
'"YOUR FADER VAS A GREAT AND GOOD MAN JUST MY SIZE.'"
"I've already given them away to Baruch the glazier,"
replied the mourner.
" But he has his glaziering," remonstrated Yankele. " I
have noting but de clothes I stand in, and dey don't fit me
half so veil as your fader's vould have done."
" Baruch has been very unfortunate," replied Greenbaum
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS. 76
defensively. " He had a misfortune in the winter, and he
has never got straight yet. A child of his died, and, un-
happily, just when the snowballing was at its height, so that
he lost seven days by the mourning." And he moved
away.
" Did I not say work was uncertain ? " cried Manasseh.
"Not all," maintained the Schnorrer. "What of de six
guineas I make by carrying round de Palm-branch on
Tabernacles to be shaken by de voomans who cannot attend
Synagogue, and by blowing de trumpet for de same voomans
on New Year, so dat dey may break deir fasts ? "
"The amount is too small to deserve discussion. Pass
on."
"Dere is a smaller amount just half dat I get from
de presents to de poor at de Feast of Lots, and from de
Bridegrooms of de Beginning and de Bridegrooms of de Law
at de Rejoicing of de Law, and dere is about four pounds
ten a year from de sale of clothes given to me. Den I have
a lot o' meals given me dis, I have reckoned, is as good
as seven pounds. And, lastly, I cannot count de odds and
ends under ten guineas. You know dere are alvays legacies,
gifts, distributions all unexpected. You never know who'll
break out next."
" Yes, I think it's not too high a percentage of your
income to expect from unexpected sources," admitted
Manasseh. " I have myself lingered about 'Change Alley
or Sampson's Coffee House just when the jobbers have
pulled off a special coup, and they have paid me quite a
high percentage on their profits."
" And I," boasted Yankele', stung to noble emulation,
" have made two sov'rans in von minute out of Gideon de
bullion-broker. He likes to give Schnorrers sov'rans, as
if in mistake for shillings, to see vat dey'll do. De fools
76 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
hurry off, or move slowly avay, as if not noticing, or put
it quickly in de pocket. But dose who have visdom tell
him he's made a mistake, and he gives dem anoder sov'ran.
Honesty is de best policy with Gideon. Den dere is Rabbi
de Falk, de Baal Shem de great Cabbalist. Yen "
" But," interrupted Manasseh impatiently, " you haven't
made out your hundred and fifty a year."
Yankee's face fell. " Not if you cut out so many items."
" No, but even all inclusive it only comes to a hundred
and forty-three pounds nineteen shillings."
" Nonsense ! " said Yankete, staggered. " How can you
know so exact ? "
" Do you think I cannot do simple addition? " responded
Manasseh sternly. " Are not these your ten items? "
s. d.
1. Synagogue Pension, with Passover extras . 800
2. Synagogue-knocking . . . . IO 10 o
3. District Visiting 65 o o
4. As Congregation-man and Pyx-bearer . 14 o o
5. Year-Times 15 o o
6. Palm-branch and Trumpet Fees . . 660
7. Purim-presents, &c 33
8. Sale of Clothes 4100
9. Equivalent of Free Meals .... 700
10. Miscellanea, the unexpected . . . 10 10 o
Total .143 19 o
" A child could sum it up," concluded Manasseh severely.
Yanked was subdued to genuine respect and consternation
by da Costa's marvellous memory and arithmetical genius.
But he rallied immediately. " Of course, I also reckoned
on a dowry mid my bride, if only a hundred pounds."
" Well, invested in Consols, that would not bring you four
pounds more," replied Manasseh instantly.
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
77
* The rest vill be made up in extra free meals," Yankel
answered no less quickly. " For ven I take your daughter
off your hands you vill be able to afford to invite me more
often to your table
dan you do now."
"Not at all," re-
torted Manasseh, "for
now that I know how
well off you are I shall
no longer feel I am
doing a charity."
" Oh, yes, you vill,"
said Yankele" insinu-
atingly. " You are
too much a man of
honour to know as a
private philantropist
vat I have told de
marriage - broker, de
fader-in-law and de
fellow Schnorrer. Be-
sides, I vould have
de free meals from
you as de son-in-law,
not de Schnorrer"
" In that relation I should also have free meals from you,"
rejoined Manasseh.
" I never dared to tink you vould do me de honour.
But even so I can never give you such good meals as you
give me. So dere is still a balance in my favour."
" That is true," said da Costa thoughtfully. " But you
have still about a guinea to make up."
Yankete was driven into a corner at last. But he flashed
'THE TREMBLING JEW.
78 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
back, without perceptible pause, " You do not allow for vat
I save by my piety. I fast twenty times a year, and surely
dat is at least anoder guinea per annum."
" But you will have children," retorted da Costa.
Yankele shrugged his shoulders.
" Dat is de affair of de Holy One, blessed be He. Yen
He sends dem He vill provide for dem. You must not
forget, too, dat mid your daughter de dowry vould be noting
so small as a hundred pounds."
" My daughter will have a dowry befitting her station, cer-
tainly," said Manasseh, with his grandest manner ; " but then
I had looked forward to her marrying a king of Schnorrers."
" Veil, but ven I marry her I shall be."
" How so? "
" I shall have schnorred your daughter the most pre-
cious thing in the world ! And schnorred her from a king
of Schnorrers, too ! ! And I shall have schnorred your
services as marriage-broker into de bargain ! ! ! "
CHAPTER IV.
SHOWING HOW THE ROYAL WEDDING WAS ARRANGED.
MANASSEH BUENO BARZILLAI AZEVEDO DA COSTA was so im-
pressed by his would-be son-in-law's last argument that he
perpended it in silence for a full minute. When he replied,
his tone showed even more respect than had been infused
into it by the statement of the aspirant's income. Manasseh
was not of those to whom money is a fetish ; he regarded
it merely as something to be had for the asking. It was
intellect for which he reserved his admiration. That was
strictly not transferable.
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
79
" It is true," he said, " that if I yielded to your im-
portunities and gave you my daughter, you would thereby
have approved yourself a king of Schnorrers, of a rank
suitable to my daughter's, but an analysis of your argument
will show that you are begging the question."
" ' VAT MORE PROOF DO YOU VANT ? ' "
"Vat more proof do you vant of my begging powers?"
demanded Yankele, spreading out his palms and shrugging
his shoulders.
" Much greater proof," replied Manasseh. " I ought to
have some instance of your powers. The only time I have
seen you try to schnorr you failed."
80 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
" Me ! ven ? " exclaimed Yankele indignantly.
" Why, this very night. When you asked young Wein-
stein for his dead father's clothes ! "
" But he had already given them away ! " protested the
Pole.
" What of that ? If anyone had given away my clothes,
I should have demanded compensation. You must really
be above rebuffs of that kind, Yanked, if you are to be my
son-in-law. No, no, I remember the dictum of the Sages :
' To give your daughter to an uncultured man is like throw-
ing her bound to a lion.' "
" But you have also seen me schnorr mid success," re-
monstrated the suitor.
" Never ! " protested Manasseh vehemently.
" Often ! "
" From whom ? "
" From you ! " said Yankel boldly.
" From me! " sneered Manasseh, accentuating the pro-
noun with infinite contempt. " What does that prove ? I
am a generous man. The test is to schnorr from a miser."
" I vill schnorr from a miser ! " announced Yankele des-
perately.
" You will ! "
" Yes. Choose your miser."
" No, I leave it to you," said da Costa politely.
" Veil, Sam Lazarus, de butcher shop ! "
" No, not Sam Lazarus, he once gave a Schnorrer I know
elevenpence."
"Elevenpence? " incredulously murmured Yankele^
" Yes, it was the only way he could pass a shilling. It
wasn't bad, only cracked, but he could get no one to take
it except a Schnorrer. He made the man give him a
penny change though. Tis true the man afterwards laid
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS. 81
out the shilling at Lazarus's shop. Still a really great miser
would have added that cracked shilling to his hoard rather
than the perfect penny."
" No," argued Yanked, " dere vould be no difference,
since he does not spend."
" True," said da Costa reflectively, " but by that same
token a miser is not the most difficult person to tackle."
" How do you make dat out? "
" Is it not obvious ? Already we see Lazarus giving away
elevenpence. A miser who spends nothing on himself may,
in exceptional cases, be induced to give away something.
It is the man who indulges himself in every luxury and
gives away nothing who is the hardest to schnorr from.
He has a use for his money himself ! If you diminish
his store you hurt him in the tenderest part you rob him
of creature comforts. To schnorr from such a one I should
regard as a higher and nobler thing than to schnorr from a
mere miser."
" Veil, name your man."
"No I couldn't think of taking it out of your hands,"
said Manasseh again with his stately bow. "Whomever
you select I will abide by. If I could not rely on your
honour, would I dream of you as a son-in-law? "
" Den I vill go to Mendel Jacobs, of Mary Axe."
" Mendel Jacobs oh, no ! Why, he's married ! A mar-
ried man cannot be entirely devoted to himself."
" Vy not ? Is not a vife a creature comfort ? P'raps also
she comes cheaper dan a housekeeper."
" We will not argue it. I will not have Mendel Jacobs."
"Simon Kelutski, de vine-merchant."
" He ! He is quite generous with his snuff-box. I have
myself been offered a pinch. Of course I did not accept it."
Yankele selected several other names, but Manasseh
82 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
barred them all, and at last had an inspiration of his
own.
" Isn't there a Rabbi in your community whose stinginess
is proverbial? Let me see, what's his name? "
"A Rabbi!" murmured Yankele" disingenuously, while
his heart began to palpitate with alarm.
"Yes, isn't there Rabbi Bloater ! "
Yankele shook his head. Ruin stared him in the face
his fondest hopes were crumbling.
"I know its some fishy name Rabbi Haddock no it
isn't. It's Rabbi Remorse something."
Yanked saw it was all over with him.
" P'raps you mean Rabbi Remorse Red-herring," he said
feebly, for his voice failed him.
"Ah, yes ! Rabbi Remorse Red-herring," said Manasseh.
' From all I hear for I have never seen the man a king
of guzzlers and topers, and the meanest of mankind. Now
if you could dine with him you might indeed be called a
king of Schnorrers"
Yankele" was pale and trembling. " But he is married ! "
he urged, with a happy thought.
" Dine with him to-morrow," said Manasseh inexorably.
" He fares extra royally on the Sabbath. Obtain admission
to his table, and you shall be admitted into my family."
"But you do not know the man it is impossible!"
cried Yankele\
"That is the excuse of the bad Schnorrer. You have
heard my ultimatum. No dinner, no wife. No wife no
dowry ! "
"Vat vould dis dowry be?" asked Yankele", by way of
diversion.
" Oh, unique quite unique. First of all there would be
all the money she gets from the Synagogue. Our Synagogue
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS. 83
gives considerable dowries to portionless girls. There are
large bequests for the purpose."
Yankee's eyes glittered.
"Ah, vat gentlemen you Spaniards be ! "
" Then I daresay I should hand over to my son-in-law all
my Jerusalem land."
" Have you property in de Holy Land? " said Yankel6.
"First class, with an unquestionable title. And, of course,
I would give you some province or other in this country."
" What ! " gasped Yankee.
" Could I do less ? " said Manasseh blandly. " My own
flesh and blood, remember ! Ah, here is my door. It is
too late to ask you in. Good Sabbath ! Don't forget your
appointment to dine with Rabbi Remorse Red-herring to-
morrow."
" Good Sabbath ! " faltered Yankele, and crawled home
heavy-hearted to Dinah's Buildings, Tripe Yard, White-
chapel, where the memory of him lingers even unto this
day.
Rabbi Remorse Red-herring was an unofficial preacher
who officiated at mourning services in private houses, having
a gift of well-turned eulogy. He was a big, burly man with
overlapping stomach and a red beard, and his spiritual con-
solations drew tears. His clients knew him to be vastly self-
indulgent in private life, and abstemious in the matter of
benevolence ; but they did not confound the rdles. As a
mourning preacher he gave every satisfaction : he was regu-
lar and punctual, and did not keep the congregation waiting,
and he had had considerable experience in showing that
there was yet balm in Gilead.
He had about five ways of showing it the variants de-
pending upon the circumstances. If, as not infrequently
happened, the person deceased was a stranger to him, he
84 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
would enquire in the passage : " Was it man or woman ?
Boy or girl? Married or single? Any children? Young
'uns or old 'uns?"
When these questions had been answered, he was ready.
He knew exactly which of his five consolatory addresses to
deliver they were all sufficiently vague and general to
cover considerable variety of circumstance, and even when
he misheard the replies in the passage, and dilated on the
grief of a departed widower's relict, the results were not
fatal throughout. The few impossible passages might be
explained by the mishearing of the audience. Sometimes
very rarely he would venture on a supplementary sen-
tence or two fitting the specific occasion, but very cautiously,
for a man with a reputation for extempore addresses cannot
be too wary of speaking on the spur of the moment.
Off obituary lines he was a failure ; at any rate, his one
attempt to preach from an English Synagogue pulpit resulted
in a nickname. His theme was Remorse, which he ex-
plained with much care to the congregation.
" For instance," said the preacher, " the other day I was
walking over London Bridge, when I saw a fishwife standing
with a basket of red-herrings. I says, ' How much ? ' She
says, ' Two for three-halfpence.' I says, ' Oh, that's fright-
fully dear ! I can easily get three for twopence.' But she
wouldn't part with them at that price, so I went on, think-
ing I'd meet another woman with a similar lot over the
water. They were lovely fat herrings, and my chaps watered
in anticipation of the treat of eating them. But when I got
to the other end of the bridge there was no other fishwife
to be seen. So I resolved to turn back to the first fishwife,
for, after all, I reflected, the herrings were really very cheap,
and I had only complained in the way of business. But
when I got back the woman was just sold out. I could
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS. 85
have torn my hair with vexation. Now, that's what I call
Remorse."
After that the Rabbi was what the congregation called
Remorse ; also Red-herring.
The Rabbi's fondness for concrete exemplification of ab-
" ' I COULD HAVE TORN MY HAIR.' "
stract ideas was not, however, to be stifled, and there was
one illustration of Charity which found a place in all the five
sermons of consolation.
" If you have a pair of old breeches, send them to the
Rabbi."
Rabbi Remorse Red-herring was, however, as is the way
of preachers, himself aught but a concrete exemplification
86 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
of the virtues he inculcated. He lived generously through
other people's generosity but no one could boast of hav-
ing received a farthing from him over and above what was
due to them ; while Schnorrers (who deemed considerable
sums due to them) regarded him in the light of a defalcat-
ing bankrupt. He, for his part, had a countervailing grudge
against the world, fancying the work he did for it but feebly
remunerated. " I get so little," ran his bitter plaint, " that
I couldn't live, if it were not for the fasts." And, indeed,
the fasts of the religion were worth much more to him than
to Yankele' ; his meals were so profuse that his savings from
this source were quite a little revenue. As Yankele' had
pointed out, he was married. And his wife had given him a
child, but it died at the age of seven, bequeathing to him
the only poignant sorrow of his life. He was too jealous to
call in a rival consolation preacher during those dark days,
and none of his own five sermons seemed to fit the case. It
was some months before he took his meals regularly.
At no time had anyone else taken meals in his house,
except by law entitled. Though she had only two to cook
for, his wife habitually provided for three, counting her
husband no mere unit. Herself she reckoned as a half.
It was with intelligible perturbation, therefore, that Yankeld,
dressed in some other man's best, approached the house of
Rabbi Remorse Red-herring about a quarter of an hour before
the Sabbath mid-day meal, intent on sharing it with him.
" No dinner, no marriage ! " was da Costa's stern ukase.
What wonder if the inaccessible meal took upon itself the
grandiosity of a wedding feast ! Deborah da Costa's lovely
face tantalised him like a mirage.
The Sabbath day was bleak, but chiller was his heart. The
Rabbi had apartments in Steward Street, Spitalfields, an
elegant suite on the ground-floor, for he stinted himself in
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
87
nothing but charity. At the entrance was a porch a
pointed Gothic arch of wood supported by two pillars. As
Yanked mounted the three wooden steps, breathing as pain-
fully as if they were three hundred, and wondering if he would
ever get merely as far as the
other side of the door, he
was assailed by the tempta-
tion to go and dine peace-
fully at home, and represent
to da Costa that he had
feasted with the Rabbi. Ma-
nasseh would never know,
Manasseh had taken no
steps to ascertain if he sat-
isfied the test or not. Such
carelessness, he told him-
self in righteous indigna-
tion, deserved fitting pun-
ishment. But, on the other
hand, he recalled Manas-
seh's trust in him ; Ma-
nasseh believed him a man
of honour, and the patron's
elevation of soul awoke an
answering chivalry in the
parasite.
He decided to make the attempt at least, for there would
be plenty of time to say he had succeeded, after he had failed.
Vibrating with tremors of nobility as well as of apprehen-
sion, Yanked lifted the knocker. He had no programme,
trusting to chance and mother-wit.
Mrs. Remorse Red-herring half opened the door.
" I vish to see de Rabbi," he said, putting one foot within.
1 I VISH TO SEE DE RABBI.' '
88 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
" He is engaged," said the wife a tiny thin creature
who had been plump and pretty. " He is very busy talking
with a gentleman."
" Oh, but I can vait."
" But the Rabbi will be having his dinner soon."
" I can vait till after dinner," said Yankel6 obligingly.
" Oh, but the Rabbi sits long at table."
" I don't mind," said Yankele' with undiminished placidity,
" de longer de better."
The poor woman looked perplexed. " I'll tell my hus-
band," she said at last.
Yankel had an anxious moment in the passage.
"The Rabbi wishes to know what you want," she said
when she returned.
" I vant to get married," said Yankel with an inspiration
of veracity.
" But my husband doesn't marry people."
"Vy not?"
" He only brings consolation into households," she ex-
plained ingenuously.
"Veil, I won't get married midout him," Yankel mur-
mured lugubriously.
The little woman went back in bewilderment to her
bosom's lord. Forthwith out came Rabbi Remorse Red-her-
ring, curiosity and cupidity in his eyes. He wore the skull-
cap of sanctity, but looked the gourmand in spite of it.
" Good Sabbath, sir ! What is this about your getting
married ? "
" It's a long story," said Yanked, " and as your good vife
told me your dinner is just ready, I mustn't keep you
now."
" No, there are still a few minutes before dinner. What
is it?"
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS. 89
Yankele" shook his head. " I couldn't tink of keeping you
in dis draughty passage."
" I don't mind. I don't feel any draught."
" Dat's just vere de danger lays. You don't notice, and
one day you find yourself laid up mid rheumatism, and you
vill have Remorse," said Yankele' with a twinkle. "Your
life is precious if you die, who vill console de com-
munity? "
It was an ambiguous remark, but the Rabbi understood
it in its most flattering sense, and his little eyes beamed.
"I would ask you inside," he said, "but I have a vis-
itor."
" No matter," said Yankele", " vat I have to say to you,
Rabbi, is not private. A stranger may hear it."
Still undecided, the Rabbi muttered, "You want me to
marry you ? "
" I have come to get married," replied Yankele\
" But I have never been called upon to marry people."
" It's never too late to mend, dey say."
"Strange strange," murmured the Rabbi reflectively.
" Vat is strange ? "
" That you should come to me just to-day. But why did
you not go to Rabbi Sandman? "
" Rabbi Sandman ! " replied Yankele" with contempt.
" Vere vould be de good of going to him ? "
" But why not? "
" Every Schnorrer goes to him," said Yankel frankly.
" Hum ! " mused the Rabbi. " Perhaps there is an open-
ing for a more select marrier. Come in, then, I can give
you five minutes if you really don't mind talking before a
stranger."
He threw open the door, and led the way into the sitting-
room.
90 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
Yankele" followed, exultant ; the outworks were already
carried, and his heart beat high with hope. But at his first
glance within, he reeled and almost fell.
Standing with his back to the fire and dominating the
room was Manasseh Bueno Barzillai Azevedo da Costa !
"Ah, Yankele", good Sabbath ! " said da Costa affably.
" G-g-ood Sabbath ! " stammered Yankele.
" Why, you know each other ! " cried the Rabbi.
" Oh, yes," said Manasseh, " an acquaintance of yours,
too, apparently."
" No, he is just come to see me about something," replied
the Rabbi.
" I thought you did not know the Rabbi, Mr. da Costa? "
Yankele" could not help saying.
" I didn't. I only had the pleasure of making his ac-
quaintance half an hour ago. I met him in the street as he
was coming home from morning service, and he was kind
enough to invite me to dinner."
Yankele" gasped ; despite his secret amusement at Manas-
seh's airs, there were moments when the easy magnificence
of the man overwhelmed him, extorted his reluctant admi-
ration. How in Heaven's name had the Spaniard conquered
at a blow !
Looking down at the table, he now observed that it was
already laid for dinner and for three ! He should have
been that third. Was it fair of Manasseh to handicap him
thus? Naturally, there would be infinitely less chance of a
fourth being invited than a third to say nothing of the
dearth of provisions. " But, surely, you don't intend to
stay to dinner ! " he complained in dismay.
"I have given my word," said Manasseh, "and I shouldn't
care to disappoint the Rabbi."
" Oh, it's no disappointment, no disappointment," re-
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS. 91
marked Rabbi Remorse Red-herring cordially, "I could
just as well come round and see you after dinner."
"After dinner I never see people," said Manasseh majes-
tically ; " I sleep."
The Rabbi dared not make further protest : he turned to
Yankeld and asked, "Well, now, what's this about your
marriage?"
" I can't tell you before Mr. da Costa," replied Yankeld,
to gain time.
"Why not? You said anybody might hear."
" Noting of the sort. I said a stranger might hear. But
Mr. da Costa isn't a stranger. He knows too much about
de matter."
" What shall we do, then? " murmured the Rabbi.
" I can vait till after dinner," said Yankel, with good-
natured carelessness, "/don't sleep "
Before the Rabbi could reply, the wife brought in a baked
dish, and set it on the table. Her husband glowered at
her, but she, regular as clockwork, and as unthinking, pro-
duced the black bottle of schnapps. It was her husband's
business to get rid of Yankel ; her business was to bring
on the dinner. If she had delayed, he would have raged
equally. She was not only wife, but maid-of-all-work.
Seeing the advanced state of the preparations, Manasseh
da Costa took his seat at the table ; obeying her husband's
significant glance, Mrs. Red-herring took 'up her position at
the foot. The Rabbi himself sat down at the head, behind
the dish. He always served, being the only person he could
rely upon to gauge his capacities. Yankel6 was left stand-
ing. The odour of the meat and potatoes impregnated the
atmosphere with wistful poetry.
Suddenly the Rabbi looked up and perceived Yankele".
" Will you do as we do? " he said in seductive accents.
92 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
The Schnorrer's heart gave one wild, mad throb of joy.
He laid his hand on the only other chair.
" I don't mind if I do," he said, with responsive amia-
bility.
"Then go home and have your dinner," said the Rabbi.
Yankele's wild heart- beat was exchanged for a stagnation
as of death. A shiver ran down his spine. He darted
an agonised appealing glance at Manasseh, who sniggered
inscrutably.
" Oh, I don't tink I ought to go avay and leave you
midout a tird man for grace," he said, in tones of prophetic
rebuke. " Since I be here, it vould be a sin not to stay."
The Rabbi, having a certain connection with religion, was
cornered ; he was not able to repudiate such an opportunity
of that more pious form of grace which needs the presence
of three males.
" Oh, I should be very glad for you to stay," said the
Rabbi, " but, unfortunately, we have only three meat-plates."
" Oh, de dish vill do for me."
" Very well, then ! " said the Rabbi.
And Yankel, with the old mad heart-beat, took the fourth
chair, darting a triumphant glance at the still sniggering
Manasseh.
The hostess rose, misunderstanding her husband's optical
signals, and fished out a knife and fork from the recesses of
a chiffonier. The host first heaped his own plate high with
artistically coloured potatoes and stiff meat less from dis-
courtesy than from life-long habit then divided the re-
mainder in unequal portions between Manasseh and the
little woman, in rough correspondence with their sizes.
Finally, he handed Yankete the empty dish.
"You see there is nothing left," he said simply. "We
didn't even expect one visitor."
"'THEN GO HOME AND HAVE YOUR DINNER.'"
94 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
" First come, first served," observed Manasseh, with his
sphinx-like expression, as he fell-to.
Yankel sat frozen, staring blankly at the dish, his brain
as empty. He had lost.
Such a dinner was a hollow mockery like the dish. He
could not expect Manasseh to accept it, quibbled he ever
so cunningly. He sat for a minute or two as in a dream,
the music of knife and fork ringing mockingly in his ears,
his hungry palate moistened by the delicious savour. Then
he shook off his stupor, and all his being was desperately
astrain, questing for an idea. Manasseh discoursed with his
host on neo- Hebrew literature.
" We thought of starting a journal at Grodno," said the
Rabbi, " only the funds "
"Be you den a native of Grodno?" interrupted Yan-
kele.
" Yes, I was born there," mumbled the Rabbi, " but I left
there twenty years ago." His mouth was full, and he did
not cease to ply the cutlery.
"Ah!" said Yankete enthusiastically, "den you must be
de famous preacher everybody speaks of. I do not remem-
ber you myself, for I vas a boy, but dey say ve haven't got
no such preachers nowaday."
" In Grodno my husband kept a brandy shop," put in the
hostess.
There was a bad quarter of a minute of silence. To
Yankele's relief, the Rabbi ended it by observing, " Yes, but
doubtless the gentleman (you will excuse me calling you
that, sir, I don't know your real name) alluded to my fame
as a boy-Maggid. At the age of five I preached to audi-
ences of many hundreds, and my manipulation of texts, my
demonstrations that they did not mean what they said, drew
tears even from octogenarians familiar with the Torah from
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
95
their earliest infancy. It was said there never was such
a wonder-child since Ben Sira."
" But why did you give it up ? " enquired Manasseh.
" It gave me up," said the Rabbi, putting down his knife
and fork to expound an ancient grievance. " A boy-Maggid
cannot last more than a few years. Up to nine I was still a
draw, but every year the
wonder grew less, and,
when I was thirteen, my
Bar-Mitzvah (confirma-
tion) sermon occasioned
no more sensation than
those of the many other
lads whose sermons I
had written for them.
I struggled along as boy-
ishly as I could for some
time after that, but it
was in a losing cause.
My age won on me daily.
As it is said, ' I have
been young, and now I
am old.' In vain I com-
posed the most eloquent
addresses to be heard in
Grodno. In vain I gave
a course on the emotions, with explanations and instances
from daily life the fickle public preferred younger attrac-
tions. So at last I gave it up and sold vodki"
" Vat a pity ! Vat a pity ! " ejaculated Yankete, " after
vinning fame in de Torah ! "
"But what is a man to do? He is not always a boy,"
replied the Rabbi. "Yes, I kept a brandy shop. That's
96 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
what I call Degradation. But there is always balm in
Gilead. I lost so much money over it that I had to emi-
grate to England, where, finding nothing else to do, I be-
came a preacher again." He poured himself out a glass of
schnapps, ignoring the water.
" I heard nothing of de vodki shop," said Yankele" ; " it
vas svallowed up in your earlier fame."
The Rabbi drained the glass of schnapps, smacked his
lips, and resumed his knife and fork. Manasseh reached
for the unoffered bottle, and helped himself liberally. The
Rabbi unostentatiously withdrew it beyond his easy reach,
looking at Yankele' the while.
" How long have you been in England ? " he asked the
Pole.
" Not long," said Yankele.
" Ha ! Does Gabriel the cantor still suffer from neuralgia ? "
Yankele" looked sad. "No he is dead," he said.
" Dear me ! Well, he was tottering when I knew him.
His blowing of the ram's horn got wheezier every year.
And how is his young brother, Samuel?"
" He is dead ! " said Yankele.
" What, he too ! Tut, tut ! He was so robust. Has
Mendelssohn, the stonemason, got many more girls?"
" He is dead ! " said Yankele.
" Nonsense ! " gasped the Rabbi, dropping his knife and
fork. "Why, I heard from him only a few months ago."
" He is dead ! " said Yankele.
" Good gracious me ! Mendelssohn dead ! " After a
moment of emotion he resumed his meal. " But his sons
and daughters are all doing well, I hope. The eldest, Solo-
mon, was a most pious youth, and his third girl, Neshamah,
promised to be a rare beauty."
"They are dead ! " said Yankele.
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
This time the Rabbi turned pale as a corpse himself. He
laid down his knife and fork automatically.
"D dead," he breathed in an awestruck whisper. "All?"
" Everyone. De same cholera took all de family."
The Rabbi covered his face with his hands. " Then poor
Solomon's wife is a widow. I hope he left her enough to
live upon."
" No, but it doesn't matter," said Yankele".
" It matters a great deal," cried the Rabbi.
" She is dead," said Yankete.
" Rebecca Schwartz dead ! " screamed the Rabbi, for he
had once loved the maiden himself, and, not having married
her, had still a tenderness
for her.
" Rebecca Schwartz," re-
peated Yankele" inexorably.
"Was it the cholera?"
faltered the Rabbi.
" No, she vas heart-
broke."
Rabbi Remorse Red-
herring silently pushed his
IN MOURNFUL MEDITATION."
plate away, and leaned his
elbows upon the table and
his face upon his palms, and his chin upon the bottle of
schnapps in mournful meditation.
" You are not eating, Rabbi," said Yankele" insinuatingly.
" I have lost my appetite," said the Rabbi.
" Vat a pity to let food get cold and spoil ! You'd better
eat it."
The Rabbi shook his head querulously.
"Den I vill eat it," cried Yankele indignantly. "Good
hot food like dat ! "
98 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
"As you like," said the Rabbi wearily. And Yanked
began to eat at lightning speed, pausing only to wink at the
inscrutable Manasseh ; and to cast yearning glances at the
inaccessible schnapps that supported the Rabbi's chin.
Presently the Rabbi looked up : " You're quite sure all
these people are dead?" he
asked with a dawning suspi-
cion.
" May my blood be poured
out like this schnapps" pro-
tested Yankele", dislodging the
bottle, and vehemently pour-
ing the spirit into a tumbler,
"if dey be not."
The Rabbi relapsed into his
moody attitude, and retained
it till his wife brought in a big
willow-pattern china dish of
stewed prunes and pippins.
She produced four plates for
these, and so Yankele" finished
W i his meal in the unquestion-
\ able status of a first-class guest.
The Rabbi was by this time
sufficiently recovered to toy
PRUNES AND PIPPINS." ^ tW P 1 ^^ \ * ***
choly silence which he did not
break till his mouth opened involuntarily to intone the grace.
When grace was over he turned to Manasseh and said,
" And what was this way you were suggesting to me of
getting a profitable Sephardic connection?"
" I did, indeed, wonder why you did not extend your
practice as consolation preacher among the Spanish Jews,"
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS. 99
replied Manasseh gravely. " But after what we have just
heard of the death-rate of Jews in Grodno, I should seri-
ously advise you to go back there."
" No, they cannot forget that I was once a boy," replied
the Rabbi with equal gravity. " I prefer the Spanish Jews.
They are all well-to-do. They may not die so often as the
Russians, but they die better, so to speak. You will give
me introductions, you will speak of me to your illustrious
friends, I understand."
" You understand ! " repeated Manasseh in dignified as-
tonishment. " You do not understand. I shall do no such
thing."
" But you yourself suggested it ! " cried the Rabbi ex-
citedly.
"I? Nothing of the kind. I had heard of you and
your ministrations to mourners, and meeting you in the
street this afternoon for the first time, it struck me to
enqtfire why you did not carry your consolations into the
bosom of my community where so much more money is to
be made. I said I wondered you had not done so from
the first. And you invited me to dinner. I still wonder.
That is all, my good man." He rose to go.
The haughty rebuke silenced the Rabbi, though his heart
was hot with a vague sense of injury.
" Do you come my way, Yankele" ? " said Manasseh care-
lessly.
The Rabbi turned hastily to his second guest.
" When do you want me to marry you ? " he asked.
" You have married me," replied Yankele.
" I ? " gasped the Rabbi. It was the last straw.
" Yes," reiterated Yankele. " Hasn't he, Mr. da Costa ? "
His heart went pit-a-pat as he put the question.
" Certainly," said Manasseh without hesitation.
100 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
Yankee's face was made glorious summer. Only two of
the quartette knew the secret of his radiance.
" There, Rabbi," he cried exultantly. " Good Sabbath ! "
" Good Sabbath ! " added Manasseh.
" Good Sabbath," dazedly murmured the Rabbi.
" Good Sabbath," added his wife.
" Congratulate me ! " cried Yankete when they got out-
side.
" On what? " asked Manasseh.
" On being your future son-in-law, of course."
"Oh, on that? Certainly, I congratulate you most
heartily." The two Schnorrers shook hands. " I thought
you were asking for compliments on your manoeuvring."
" Vy, doesn't it deserve dem?"
" No," said Manasseh magisterially.
" No ? " queried Yankel6, his heart sinking again. " Vy
not?"
" Why did you kill so many people ? "
" Somebody must die dat I may live."
"You said that before," said Manasseh severely. "A
good Schnorrer would not have slaughtered so many for his
dinner. It is a waste of good material. And then you told
lies ! "
"How do you know they are not dead?" pleaded Yan-
kele\
The King shook his head reprovingly. " A first-class
Schnorrer never lies," he laid it down.
" I might have made truth go as far as a lie if you
hadn't come to dinner yourself."
" What is that you say ? Why, I came to encourage you
by showing you how easy your task was."
" On de contrary, you made it much harder for me. Dere
vas no dinner left."
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS. 101
" But against that you must reckon that since the Rabbi
had already invited one person, he couldn't be so hard to
tackle as I had fancied."
"Oh, but you must not judge from yourself," protested
Yankele". "You be not a Schnorrer you be a miracle."
" But I should like a miracle for my son-in-law also,"
grumbled the King.
" And if you had to schnorr a son-in-law, you vould get a
miracle," said Yankele soothingly. " As he has to schnorr
you, he gets the miracle."
" True," observed Manasseh musingly, " and I think you
might therefore be very well content without the dowry."
" So I might," admitted Yankele, " only you vould not be
content to break your promise. I suppose I shall have
some of de dowry on de marriage morning."
" On that morning you shall get my daughter without
fail. Surely that will be enough for one day ! "
" Veil, ven do I get de money your daughter gets from de
Synagogue ? "
" When she gets it from the Synagogue, of course."
" How much vill it be ? "
" It may be a hundred and fifty pounds," said Manasseh
pompously.
Yankee's eyes sparkled.
" And it may be less," added Manasseh as an after- thought.
" How much less?" enquired Yankel6 anxiously.
" A hundred and fifty pounds," repeated Manasseh pom-
pously.
" D'you mean to say I may get noting? "
" Certainly, if she gets nothing. What I promised you
was the money she gets from the Synagogue. Should she
be fortunate enough in the sorteo "
" De sorteo .' Vat is dat ? "
102 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
" The dowry I told you of. It is accorded by lot. My
daughter has as good a chance as any other maiden. By
winning her you stand to win a hundred and fifty pounds.
It is a handsome amount. There are not many fathers who
would do as much for their daughters," concluded Manasseh
with conscious magnanimity.
" But about de Jerusalem estate ! " said Yankele, shifting
his standpoint. " I don't vant to go and live dere. De
Messiah is not yet come."
"No, you will hardly be able to live on it," admitted
Manasseh.
" You do not object to my selling it, den? "
" Oh, no ! If you are so sordid, if you have no true
Jewish sentiment ! "
" Ven can I come into possession ? "
"On the wedding day if you like."
" One may as veil get it over," said Yankele, suppressing
a desire to rub his hands in glee. " As de Talmud says,
' One peppercorn to-day is better dan a basketful of pump-
kins to-morrow.' "
" All right ! I will bring it to the Synagogue."
" Bring it to de Synagogue ! " repeated Yankele in
amaze. " Oh, you mean de deed of transfer."
" The deed of transfer ! Do you think I waste my sub-
stance on solicitors? No, I will bring the property itself."
" But how can you do dat ? "
"Where is the difficulty?" demanded Manasseh with
withering contempt. " Surely a child could carry a casket
of Jerusalem earth to Synagogue ! "
" A casket of earth ! Is your property in Jerusalem only
a casket of earth?"
" What then ? You didn't expect it would be a casket
of diamonds?" retorted Manasseh, with gathering wrath.
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS. 103
" To a true Jew a casket of Jerusalem earth is worth all the
diamonds in the world."
" But your Jerusalem property is a fraud ! " gasped
Yankete.
"Oh, no, you may be easy on that point. It's quite
genuine. I know there is a good deal of spurious Palestine
earth in circulation, and that many a dead man who has
clods of it thrown into his tomb is nevertheless buried in
unholy soil. But this casket I was careful to obtain from
a Rabbi of extreme sanctity. It was the only thing he had
worth schnorring."
" I don't suppose I shall get more dan a crown for it,"
said Yankete, with irrepressible indignation.
" That's what I say," returned Manasseh ; " and never
did I think a son-in-law of mine would meditate selling my
holy soil for a paltry five shillings ! I will not withdraw my
promise, but I am disappointed in you bitterly disap-
pointed. Had I known this earth was not to cover your
bones, it should have gone down to the grave with me, as
enjoined in my last will and testament, by the side of which
it stands in my safe."
" Very veil, I von't sell it," said Yankele" sulkily.
" You relieve my soul. As the Mishnah says, ' He who
marries a wife for money begets froward children.' "
" And vat about de province in England ? " asked Yankele",
in low, despondent tones. He had never believed in
that, but now, behind all his despair and incredulity, was
a vague hope that something might yet be saved from the
crash.
"Oh, you shall cho6se your own," replied Manasseh
graciously. " We will get a large map of London, and I will
mark off in red pencil the domain in which I schnorr. You
will then choose any district in this say, two main streets
104
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
and a dozen byways and alleys which shall be marked off in
blue pencil, and whatever province of my kingdom you pick,
I undertake not to schnorr in, from your wedding-day on-
wards. I need not
tell you how valu-
able such a prov-
ince already is ;
under careful ad-
ministration, such
as you would be
able to give it, the
revenue from it
might be doubled,
trebled. I do not
think your tribute
to me need be
more than ten per
cent."
Yankele walked
along mesmerised,
reduced to som-
nambulism by his
magnificently mas-
terful patron.
"Oh, here we
are ! " said Ma-
nasseh, stopping
short. " Won't you
come in and see the bride, and wish her joy? "
A flash of joy came into Yankee's own face, dissipating
his glooms. After all there was always da Costa's beautiful
daughter a solid, substantial satisfaction. He was glad
she was not an item of the dowry.
' THE UNCONSCIOUS BRIDE OPENED THE DOOR.'
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS. 106
The unconscious bride opened the door.
"Ah, ha, Yankele 1 ! " said Manasseh, his paternal heart
aglow at the sight of her loveliness. " You will be not only
a king, but a rich king. As it is written, ' Who is rich ?
He who hath a beautiful wife.' "
CHAPTER V.
SHOWING HOW THE KING DISSOLVED THE MAHAMAD.
MANASSEH DA COSTA (thus docked of his nominal pleni-
tude in the solemn writ) had been summoned before the
Mahama'd, the intended union of his daughter with a Polish
Jew having excited the liveliest horror and displeasure in the
breasts of the Elders of the Synagogue. Such a Jew did
not pronounce Hebrew as they did !
The Mahamad was a Council of Five, no less dread than
the more notorious Council of Ten. Like the Venetian
Tribunal, which has unjustly monopolised the attention of
history, it was of annual election, and it was elected by a
larger body of Elders, just as the Council of Ten was chosen
by the aristocracy. " The gentlemen of the Mahamad," as
they were styled, administered the affairs of the Spanish-
Portuguese community, and their oligarchy would undoubt-
edly be a byword for all that is arbitrary and inquisitorial
but for the widespread ignorance of its existence. To itself
the Mahamad was the centre of creation. On one occasion
it refused to bow even to the authority of the Lord Mayor
of London. A Sephardic Jew lived and moved and had his
being " by permission of the Mahamad." Without its con-
sent he could have no legitimate place in the scheme of
things. Minus " the permission of the Mahamad " he could
106
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
not marry ; with it he could be divorced readily. He might,
indeed, die without the sanction of the Council of Five, but
this was the only great act of his life which was free from its
surveillance, and he could certainly not be buried save " by
permission of the Mahamad." The Haham himself, the
"THE ELDERS OF THE SYNAGOGUE."
Sage or Chief Rabbi of the congregation, could not unite
his flock in holy wedlock without the " permission of the
Mahamad." And this authority was not merely negative
and passive, it was likewise positive and active. To be a
Yahid a recognised congregant one had to submit one's
neck to a yoke more galling even than that of the Torah, to
say nothing of the payment of Finta, or poll-tax. Woe to
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS. 107
him who refused to be Warden of the Captives he who
ransomed the chained hostages of the Moorish Corsairs, or
the war prisoners held in durance by the Turks or to be
President of the Congregation, or Parnass of the Holy
Land, or Bridegroom of the Law, or any of the numerous
dignitaries of a complex constitution. Fines, frequent and
heavy for the benefit of the poor-box awaited him
" by permission of the Mahamad." Unhappy the wight who
misconducted himself in Synagogue " by offending the presi-
dent, or grossly insulting any other person," as the ordi-
nance deliciously ran. Penalties, stringent and harrying,
visited these and other offences deprivation of the " good
deeds," of swathing the Holy Scroll, or opening the Ark;
ignominious relegation to seats behind the reading-desk,
withdrawal of the franchise, prohibition against shaving for
a term of weeks ! And if, accepting office, the Yahid
failed in the punctual and regular discharge of his duties,
he was mulcted and chastised none the less. A fine of forty
pounds drove from the Synagogue Isaac Disraeli, collector
of Curiosities of Literature, and made possible that curiosity
of politics, the career of Lord Beaconsfield. The fathers of
the Synagogue, who drew up their constitution in pure
Castilian in the days when Pepys noted the indecorum in
their little Synagogue in King Street, meant their statutes to
cement, not thus to disintegrate, the community. 'Twas a
tactless tyranny, this of the Mahamad, an inelastic adminis-
tration of a cast-iron codex wrought " in good King Charles's
golden days," when the colony of Dutch-Spanish exiles was
as a camp in enemies' country, in need of military regime;
and it co-operated with the attractions of an unhampered
" Christian " career in driving many a brilliant family beyond
the gates of the Ghetto, and into the pages of Debrett.
Athens is always a dangerous rival to Sparta.
108 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
But the Mahamad itself moved strictly in the grooves of
prescription. That legalistic instinct of the Hebrew, which
had evolved the most gigantic and minute code of conduct
in the world, had beguiled these latter-day Jews into super-
adding to it a local legislation that grew into two hundred
pages of Portuguese an intertangled network of Ascamot
or regulations, providing for every contingency of Synagogue
politics, from the quarrels of members for the best seats
down to the dimensions of their graves in the Carreira,
from the distribution of " good deeds " among the rich to
the distribution of Passover Cakes among the poor. If the
wheels and pulleys of the communal life moved " by per-
mission of the Mahamad," the Mahamad moved by permis-
sion of the Ascamot.
The Solemn Council was met "in complete Mahamad."
Even the Chief of the Elders was present, by virtue of his
privilege, making a sixth ; not to count the Chancellor or
Secretary, who sat flutteringly fingering the Portuguese Min-
ute Book on the right of the President. He was a little
man, an odd medley of pomp and bluster, with a snuff-
smeared upper lip, and a nose that had dipped in the wine
when it was red. He had a grandiose sense of his own
importance, but it was a pride that had its roots in humility,
for he felt himself great because he was the servant of
greatness. He lived " by permission of the Mahamad." As
an official he was theoretically inaccessible. If you ap-
proached him on a matter he would put out his palms
deprecatingly and pant, " I must consult the Mahamad."
It was said of him that he had once been asked the time,
and that he had automatically panted, " I must consult the
Mahamad." This consultation was the merest form ; in
practice the Secretary had more influence than the Chief
Rabbi, who was not allowed to recommend an applicant for
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
109
charity, for the quaint reason that the respect entertained
for him might unduly prejudice the Council in favour of his
candidate. As no gentleman of the Mahamad could pos-
sibly master the statutes in his year of office, especially as
only a rare member
understood the Por-
tuguese in which they
had been ultimately
couched, the Secre-
tary was invariably re-
ferred to, for he was
permanent, full of
saws and precedents,
and so he interpreted
the law with impar-
tial inaccuracy " by
permission of the Ma-
hamad." In his heart
of hearts he believed
that the sun rose and
the rain fell " by
permission of the Ma-
hamad."
The Council Cham-
ber was of goodly
proportions, and was
decorated by gold let-
tered panels, inscribed
with the names of pious donors, thick as saints in a graveyard,
overflowing even into the lobby. The flower and chivalry
of the Spanish Jewry had sat round that Council-table,
grandees who had plumed and ruffled it with the bloods of
their day, clanking their swords with the best, punctilious
'THE PRESIDENT OF THE MAHAMAD."
110 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS. '
withal and ceremonious, with the stately Castilian courtesy
still preserved by the men who were met this afternoon, to
whom their memory was as faint as the fading records of the
panels. These descendants of theirs had still elaborate salu-
tations and circumlocutions, and austere dignities of debate.
" God-fearing men of capacity and respectability," as the
Ascama demanded, they were also men of money, and it
gave them a port and a repose. His Britannic Majesty
graced the throne no better than the President of the
Mahamad, seated at the head of the long table in his alcoved
arm-chair, with the Chief of the Elders on his left, and the
Chancellor on his right, and his Councillors all about him.
The westering sun sent a pencil of golden light through the
Norman windows as if anxious to record the names of those
present in gilt letters "by permission of the Mahamad."
" Let da Costa enter," said the President, when the
agenda demanded the great Schnorrer's presence.
The Chancellor fluttered to his feet, fussily threw open
the door, and beckoned vacancy with his finger till he
discovered Manasseh was not in the lobby. The beadle
came hurrying up instead.
" Where is da Costa? " panted the Chancellor. " Call da
Costa."
" Da Costa ! " sonorously intoned the beadle with the
long-drawn accent of court ushers.
The corridor rang hollow, empty of Manasseh. " Why, he
was here a moment ago," cried the bewildered beadle. He
ran down the passage, and found him sure enough at the end
of it where it abutted on the street. The King of Schnorrers
was in dignified converse with a person of consideration.
" Da Costa ! " the beadle cried again, but his tone was
less awesome and more tetchy. The beggar did not turn
his head.
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
Ill
" Mr. da Costa," said the beadle, now arrived too near
the imposing figure to venture on familiarities with it. This
time the beggar gave indications of restored hearing. "Yes,
my man," he said, turning and advancing a few paces
to meet the envoy.
" Don't go, Grob-
stock," he called
over his shoulder.
" Didn't you hear
me calling?" grum-
bled the beadle.
" I heard you call-
ing da Costa, but I
naturally imagined
it was one of your
drinking compan-
ions," replied Ma-
nasseh severely.
"The Mahamad
is waiting for you,"
faltered the beadle.
"Tell the gentle-
men of the Maha-
mad," said Manas-
seh, with reproving
emphasis, " that I
shall do myself the
pleasure of being
with them presently.
Nay, pray don't hurry away, my dear Grobstock," he went
on, resuming his place at the German magnate's side " and
so your wife is taking the waters at Tunbridge Wells. In
faith, 'tis an excellent regimen for the vapours. I am think-
; BECKONED WITH HIS FINGE.R.
112 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
ing of sending my wife to Buxton the warden of our hos-
pital has his country-seat there."
"But you are wanted," murmured Grobstock, who was
anxious to escape. He had caught the Schnorrer's eye as
its owner sunned himself in the archway, and it held him.
" 'Tis only a meeting of the Mahamad I have to attend,"
he said indifferently. " Rather a nuisance but duty is
duty."
Grobstock's red face became a setting for two expanded
eyes.
" I thought the Mahamad was your chief Council," he
exclaimed.
" Yes, there are only five of us," said Manasseh lightly,
and, while Grobstock gaped incredulous, the Chancellor
himself shambled up in pale consternation.
" You are keeping the gentlemen of the Mahamad wait-
ing," he panted imperiously.
"Ah, you are right, Grobstock," said Manasseh with a
sigh of resignation. "They cannot get on without me.
Well, you will excuse me, I know. I am glad to have seen
you again we shall finish our chat at your house some
evening, shall we? I have agreeable recollections of your
hospitality."
" My wife will be away all this month," Grobstock re-
peated feebly.
" Ha ! ha ! ha ! " laughed Manasseh roguishly. " Thank
you for the reminder. I shall not fail to aid you in taking
advantage of her absence. Perhaps mine will be away, too
at Buxton. Two bachelors, ha ! ha ! ha ! " and, proffer-
ing his hand, he shook Grobstock's in gracious farewell.
Then he sauntered leisurely in the wake of the feverishly
impatient Chancellor, his staff tapping the stones in meas-
ured tardiness.
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
113
" Good afternoon, gentlemen," he observed affably as he
entered the Council Chamber.
" You have kept us waiting," sharply rejoined the Presi-
dent of the Mahamad, ruffled out of his regal suavity. He
was a puffy, swarthy
personage, elegant-
ly attired, and he
leaned forward on
his velvet throne,
tattooing on the
table with bedia-
monded fingers.
" Not so long as you
have kept me waiting,"
said Manasseh with
quiet resentment. " If
I had known you ex-
pected me to cool my
heels in the corridor I
should not have come,
and, had not my friend
the Treasurer of the
Great Synagogue op-
portunely turned up to
chat with me, I should
not have stayed."
"You are imperti-
nent, sir," growled the
President.
" I think, sir, it is you who owe me an apology," main-
tained Manasseh unflinchingly, "and, knowing the courtesy
and high breeding which has always distinguished your noble
family, I can only explain your present tone by your being
HA! HA! HA!' LAUGHED MANASSEH."
114 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
unaware I have a grievance. No doubt it is your Chancellor
who cited me to appear at too early an hour."
The President, cooled by the quiet dignity of the beggar,
turned a questioning glance upon the outraged Chancellor,
who was crimson and quivering with confusion and indig-
nation.
" It is usual t-t-to summon persons before the c-c-com-
mencement of the meeting," he stammered hotly. " We
cannot tell how long the prior business will take."
"Then I would respectfully submit to the Chief of the
Elders." said Manasseh, "that at the next meeting of his
august body he move a resolution that persons cited to ap-
pear before the Mahamad shall take precedence of all other
business."
The Chief of the Elders looked helplessly at the President
of the Mahamad, who was equally at sea. " However, I will
not press that point now," added Manasseh, " nor will I
draw the attention of the committee to the careless, per-
functory manner in which the document summoning me was
drawn up, so that, had I been a stickler for accuracy, I need
not have answered to the name of Manasseh da Costa."
" But that is your name," protested the Chancellor.
" If you will examine the Charity List," said Manasseh
magnificently, "you will see that my name is Manasseh
Bueno Barzillai Azevedo da Costa. But you are keeping the
gentlemen of the Mahamad waiting." And with a magnani-
mous air of dismissing the past, he seated himself on the
nearest empty chair at the foot of the table, leaned his
elbows on the table, and his face on his hands, and gazed
across at the President immediately opposite. The Coun-
cillors were so taken aback by his unexpected bearing that
this additional audacity was scarcely noted. But the Chan-
cellor, wounded in his inmost instincts, exclaimed irately,
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS. 115
" Stand up, sir. These chairs are for the gentlemen of the
Mahamad."
" And being gentlemen," added Manasseh crushingly,
" they know better than to keep an old man on his legs any
longer."
" If you were a gentleman," retorted the Chancellor,
" you would take that thing off your head."
" If you were not a Man-of-the-Earth," rejoined the
beggar, " you would know that it is not a mark of disrespect
for the Mahamad, but of respect for the Law, which is higher
than the Mahamad. The rich man can afford to neglect
our holy religion, but the poor man has only the Law. It
is his sole luxury."
The pathetic tremor in his voice stirred a confused sense
of wrong-doing and injustice in the Councillors' breasts.
The President felt vaguely that the edge of his coming
impressive rebuke had been turned, if, indeed, he did not
sit rebuked instead. Irritated, he turned on the Chancellor,
and bade him hold his peace.
" He means well," said Manasseh deprecatingly. " He
cannot be expected to have the fine instincts of the gentle-
men of the Mahamad. May I ask you, sir," he concluded,
" to proceed with the business for which you have sum-
moned me? I have several appointments to keep with
clients."
The President's bediamonded fingers recommenced their
ill-tempered tattoo; he was fuming inwardly with a sense
of baffled wrath, of righteous indignation made unrighteous.
" Is it true, sir," he burst forth at last in the most terrible
accents he could command in the circumstances, " that you
meditate giving your daughter in marriage to a Polish
Jew?"
" No," replied Manasseh curtly.
116 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
"No?" articulated the President, while a murmur of
astonishment ' went round the table at this unexpected
collapse of the whole case.
"Why, your daughter admitted it to my wife," said the
Councillor on Manasseh's right.
Manasseh turned to him, expostulant, tilting his chair
and body towards him. "My daughter is going to marry
a Polish Jew," he explained with argumentative forefinger,
" but I do not meditate giving her to him."
" Oh, then, you will refuse your consent," said the Coun-
cillor, hitching his chair back so as to escape the beggar's
progressive propinquity. " By no means," quoth Manasseh
in surprised accents, as he drew his chair nearer again,
" I have already consented. I do not meditate consenting.
That word argues an inconclusive attitude."
" None of your quibbles, sirrah," cried the President,
while a scarlet flush mantled on his dark countenance.
" Do you not know that the union you contemplate is dis-
graceful and degrading to you, to your daughter, and to
the community which has done so much for you ? What !
A Sephardi marry a Tedesco ! Shameful."
" And do you think I do not feel the shame as deeply as
you?" enquired Manasseh, with infinite pathos. "Do you
think, gentlemen, that I have not suffered from this passion
of a Tedesco for my daughter? I came here expecting
your sympathy, and do you offer me reproach? Perhaps
you think, sir" here he turned again to his right-hand
neighbour, who, in his anxiety to evade his pertinacious
proximity, had half-wheeled his chair round, offering only
his back to the argumentative forefinger "perhaps you
think, because I have consented, that I cannot condole
with you, that I am not at one with you in lamenting this
blot on our common 'scutcheon; perhaps you think"
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS. 117
here he adroitly twisted his chair into argumentative posi-
tion on the other side of the Councillor, rounding him like
a cape " that, because you have no sympathy with my
tribulation, I have no sympathy with yours. But, if I have
consented, it is only because it was the best I could do
for my daughter. In my heart of hearts I have repudi-
ated her, so that she may practically be considered an
orphan, and, as such, a fit person to receive the marriage
dowry bequeathed by Rodriguez Real, peace be upon
him."
"This is no laughing matter, sir," thundered the Presi-
dent, stung into forgetfulness of his dignity by thinking too
much of it.
" No, indeed," said Manasseh sympathetically, wheeling to
the right so as to confront the President, who went on
stormily, " Are you aware, sir, of the penalties you risk by
persisting in your course ? "
" I risk no penalties," replied the beggar.
" Indeed ! Then do you think anyone may trample with
impunity upon our ancient Ascamot? "
"Our ancient Ascamot. f" repeated Manasseh in surprise.
"What have they to say against a Sephardi marrying a
Tedesco?"
The audacity of the question rendered the Council
breathless. Manasseh had to answer it himself.
"They have nothing to say. There is no such Ascama"
There was a moment of awful silence. It was as though he
had disavowed the Decalogue.
" Do you question the first principle of our constitution?"
said the President at last, in low, ominous tones. " Do you
deny that your daughter is a traitress? Do you ? "
"Ask your Chancellor," calmly interrupted Manasseh.
"He is a Man-of-the-Earth, but he should know your
118 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
statutes, and he will tell you that my daughter's conduct is
nowhere forbidden."
" Silence, sir," cried the President testily. " Mr. Chan-
cellor, read the Ascama"
The Chancellor wriggled on his chair, his face flushing
and paling by turns ; all eyes were bent upon him in anxious
suspense. He hemmed and ha'd and coughed, and took
snuff, and blew his nose elaborately.
" There is n-n-no express Ascama" he stuttered at last.
Manasseh sat still, in unpretentious triumph.
The Councillor who was now become his right-hand
neighbour was the first to break the dazed silence, and it
was his first intervention.
" Of course, it was never actually put into writing," he
said in stern reproof. " It has never been legislated against,
because it has never been conceived possible. These things
are an instinct with every right-minded Sephardi. Have
we ever legislated against marrying Christians?" Manasseh
veered round half a point of the compass, and fixed the
new opponent with his argumentative forefinger. "Cer-
tainly we have," he replied unexpectedly. " In Section XX.,
Paragraph II." He quoted the Ascama by heart, rolling
out the sonorous Portuguese like a solemn indictment. " If
our legislators had intended to prohibit intermarriage with
the German community, they would have prohibited it."
" There is the Traditional Law as well as the Written,"
said the Chancellor, recovering himself. " It is so in our
holy religion, it is so in our constitution."
" Yes, there are precedents assuredly," cried the Presi-
dent eagerly.
" There is the case of one of our Treasurers in the time of
George II.," said the little Chancellor, blossoming under the
sunshine of the President's encouragement, and naming the
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
119
ancestor of a Duchess of to-day. " He wanted to marry a
beautiful German Jewess."
" And was interdicted," said the President.
"Hem!" coughed the Chancellor. "He he was only
permitted to marry her under humiliating conditions. The
Elders forbade the attendance of the members of the House
of Judgment, or of the Cantors ; no celebration was to take
place in the Snoga ; no
offerings were to be
made for the bride-
groom's health, nor was
he even to receive the
bridegroom's call to the
reading of the Law."
"But the Elders will
not impose any such
conditions on my son-
in-law," said Manasseh,
skirting round another
chair so as to bring his
forefinger to play upon
the Chief of the Elders,
on whose left he had
now arrived in his argu-
mentative advances.
" In the first place he is not one of us. His desire to join
us is a compliment. If anyone has offended your tradi-
tions, it is my daughter. But then she is not a male, like
the Treasurer cited ; she is not an active agent, she has
not gone out of her way to choose a Tedesco she has
been chosen. Your masculine precedents cannot touch
her."
"Ay, but we can touch you," said the contemporary
HEM ! ' COUGHED THE CHANCELLOR."
120 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
Treasurer, guffawing grimly. He sat opposite Manasseh,
and next to the Chancellor.
"Is it fines you are thinking of?" said Manasseh with
a scornful glance across the table. "Very well, fine me
if you can afford it. You know that I am a student,
a son of the Law, who has no resources but what you allow
him. If you care to pay this fine it is your affair. There
is always room in the poor-box. I am always glad to hear
of fines. You had better make up your mind to the
inevitable, gentlemen. Have I not had to do it? There
is no Ascama to prevent my son-in-law having all the usual
privileges in fact, it was to ask that he might receive
the bridegroom's call to the Law on the Sabbath before his
marriage that I really came. By Section III., Paragraph
I., you are empowered to admit any person about to marry
the daughter of a Yahid." Again the sonorous Portuguese
rang out, thrilling the Councillors with all that quintessential
awfulness of ancient statutes in a tongue not understood.
It was not till a quarter of a century later that the Ascamot
were translated into English, and from that moment their
authority was doomed.
The Chancellor was the first to recover from the quota-
tion. Daily contact with these archaic sanctities had dulled
his awe, and the President's impotent irritation spurred
him to action.
" But you are not a Yahid," he said quietly. " By Para-
graph V. of the same section, any one whose name appears
on the Charity List ceases to be a Yahid."
" And a vastly proper law," said Manasseh with irony.
" Everybody may vote but the Schnorrer" And, ignoring
the Chancellor's point at great length, he remarked con-
fidentially to the Chief of the Elders, at whose elbow he was
still encamped, " It is curious how few of your Elders
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS. 121
perceive that those who take the charity are the pillars
of the Synagogue. What keeps your community together?
Fines. What ensures respect for your constitution ? Fines.
What makes every man do his duty? Fines. What rules
this very Mahamad ? Fines. And it is the poor who pro-
vide an outlet for all these moneys. Egad, do you think
your members would for a moment tolerate your penalties,
if they did not know the money was laid out in 'good
deeds ' ? Charity is the salt of riches, says the Talmud, and,
indeed, it is the salt that preserves your community."
" Have done, sir, have done ! " shouted the President,
losing all regard for those grave amenities of the ancient
Council Chamber which Manasseh did his best to maintain.
"Do you forget to whom you are talking?"
" I am talking to the Chief of the Elders," said Manasseh
in a wounded tone, " but if you would like me to address
myself to you " and wheeling round the Chief of the
Elders, he landed his chair next to the President's.
" Silence, fellow ! " thundered the President, shrinking
spasmodically from his confidential contact. " You have
no right to a voice at all ; as the Chancellor has reminded
us, you are not even a Yahid, a congregant."
" Then the laws do not apply to me," retorted the beggar
quietly. " It is only the Yahid who is privileged to do this,
who is prohibited from doing that. No Ascama mentions
the Schnorrer, or gives you any authority over him."
" On the contrary," said the Chancellor, seeing the Presi-
dent disconcerted again, " he is bound to attend the week-
day services. But this man hardly ever does, sir." " I
never do," corrected Manasseh, with touching sadness.
" That is another of the privileges I have to forego in order
to take your charity ; I cannot risk appearing to my Maker
in the light of a mercenary."
122 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
" And what prevents you taking your turn in the grave-
yard watches?" sneered the Chancellor.
The antagonists were now close together, one on either
side of the President of the Mahamad, who was wedged
between the two bobbing, quarrelling figures, his complexion
altering momently for the blacker, and his fingers working
nervously.
"What prevents me?" replied Manasseh. " My age. It
would be a sin against heaven to spend a night in the
cemetery. If the body-snatchers did come they might find
a corpse to their hand in the watch-tower. But I do my
duty I always pay a substitute."
" No doubt," said the Treasurer. " I remember your
asking me for the money to keep an old man out of the
cemetery. Now I see what you meant."
"Yes," began two others, " and I "
"Order, gentlemen, order," interrupted the President
desperately, for the afternoon was flitting, the sun was set-
ting, and the shadows of twilight were falling. " You must
not argue with the man. Hark you, my fine fellow, we re-
fuse to sanction this marriage ; it shall not be performed by
our ministers, nor can we dream of admitting your son-in-
law as a Yahid."
"Then admit him on your Charity List," said Manasseh.
" We are more likely to strike you off ! And, by gad ! "
cried the President, tattooing on the table with his whole fist,
" if you don't stop this scandal instanter, we will send you
howling."
"Is it excommunication you threaten?" said Manasseh,
rising to his feet. There was a menacing glitter in his eye.
" This scandal must be stopped," repeated the President,
agitatedly rising in involuntary imitation.
" Any member of the Mahamad could stop it in a twink-
124 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
ling," said Manasseh sullenly. " You yourself, if you only
chose."
" If I only chose?" echoed the President enquiringly.
" If you only chose my daughter. Are you not a bach-
elor? I am convinced she could not say nay to anyone
present excepting the Chancellor. Only no one is really
willing to save the community from this scandal, and so my
daughter must marry as best she can. And yet, it is a
handsome creature who would not disgrace even a house in
Hackney."
Manasseh spoke so seriously that the President fumed the
more. "Let her marry this Pole," he ranted, "and you
shall be cut off from us in life and death. Alive, you shall
worship without our walls, and dead you shall be buried
' behind the boards.' "
" For the poor man excommunication," said Manasseh
in ominous soliloquy. " For the rich man permission to
marry the Tedesco of his choice."
"Leave the room, fellow," vociferated the President.
"You have heard our ultimatum ! "
But Manasseh did not quail.
"And you shall hear mine," he said, with a quietness that
was the more impressive for the President's fury. " Do not
forget, Mr. President, that you and I owe allegiance to the
same brotherhood. Do not forget that the power which
made you can unmake you at the next election ; do not
forget that if I have no vote I have vast influence ; that
there is not a Yahid whom I do not visit weekly ; that there
is not a Schnorrer who would not follow me in my exile.
Do not forget that there is another community to turn to
yes ! that very Ashkenazic community you contemn with
the Treasurer of which I talked but just now ; a community
that waxes daily in wealth and greatness while you sleep in
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
125
your sloth." His tall form dominated the chamber, his
head seemed to touch the ceiling. The Councillors sat
dazed as amid a lightning-storm.
"Jackanapes ! Blasphemer ! Shameless renegade ! " cried
the President, choking with wrath. And being already on
his legs, he dashed to the bell and tugged at it madly,
blanching the Chancellor's face
with the perception of a lost
opportunity.
" I shall not leave this cham-
ber till I choose," said Manas-
seh, dropping stolidly into the
nearest chair and folding his
arms.
At once a cry of horror and
consternation rose from every
throat, every man leapt threat-
eningly to his feet, and Manas-
seh realised that he was throned
on the alcoved armchair !
But he neither blenched nor
budged.
" Nay, keep your seats, gen-
tlemen," he said quietly.
The President, turning at the stir, caught sight of the
Schnorrer, staggered and clutched at the mantel. The
Councillors stood spellbound for an instant, while the Chan-
cellor's eyes roved wildly round the walls, as if expecting
the gold names to start from their panels. The beadle
rushed in, terrified by the strenuous tintinnabulation, looked
instinctively towards the throne for orders, then under-
went petrifaction on the threshold, and stared speechless
at Manasseh, what time the President, gasping like a landed
HE DASHED TO THE BELL.'
126 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
cod, vainly strove to utter the order for the beggar's expul-
sion.
" Don't stare at me, Gomez," Manasseh cried imperiously,
" Can't you see the President wants a glass of water? "
The beadle darted a glance at the President, and, per-
ceiving his condition, rushed out again to get the water.
This was the last straw. To see his authority usurped as
well as his seat maddened the poor President. For some
seconds he strove to mouth an oath, embracing his supine
Councillors as well as this beggar on horseback, but he pro-
duced only an inarticulate raucous cry, and reeled sideways.
Manasseh sprang from his chair and caught the falling form
in his arms. For one terrible moment he stood supporting
it in a tense silence, broken only by the incoherent murmurs
of the unconscious lips ; then crying angrily, " Bestir your-
selves, gentlemen, don't you see the President is ill?" he
dragged his burden towards the table, and, aided by the
panic-stricken Councillors, laid it flat thereupon, and threw
open the ruffled shirt. He swept the Minute Book to the
floor with an almost malicious movement, to make room for
the President.
The beadle returned with the glass of water, which he
well-nigh dropped.
" Run for a physician," Manasseh commanded, and throw-
ing away the water carelessly, in the Chancellor's direction,
he asked if anyone had any brandy. There was no response.
" Come, come, Mr. Chancellor," he said, " bring out your
phial." And the abashed functionary obeyed.
"Has any of you his equipage without?" Manasseh
demanded next of the Mahamad.
They had not, so Manasseh despatched the Chief of the
Elders in quest of a sedan chair. Then there was nothing
left but to await the physician.
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS. 127
"You see, gentlemen, how insecure is earthly power,"
said the Schnorrer solemnly, while the President breathed
stertorously, deaf to his impressive moralising. " It is swal-
lowed up in an instant, as Lisbon was engulfed. Cursed are
they who despise the poor. How is the saying of our sages
verified 'The house that opens not to the poor opens to
the physician.' " His eyes shone with unearthly radiance
in the gathering gloom.
The cowed assembly wavered before his words, like reeds
before the wind, or conscience-stricken kings before fearless
prophets.
When the physician came he pronounced that the Presi-
dent had had a slight stroke of apoplexy, involving a tempo-
rary paralysis of the right foot. The patient, by this time
restored to consciousness, was conveyed home in the sedan
chair, and the Mahamad dissolved in confusion. ManasseK
was the last to leave the Council Chamber. As he stalked
into the corridor he turned the key in the door behind him
with a vindictive twist. Then, plunging his hand into his
breeches-pocket, he gave the beadle a crown, remarking
genially, "You must have your usual perquisite, I suppose."
The beadle was moved to his depths. He had a burst of
irresistible honesty. " The President gives me only half-a-
crown," he murmured.
" Yes, but he may not be able to attend the next meeting,"
said Manasseh. "And I may be away, too."
128 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
CHAPTER VI.
SHOWING HOW THE KING ENRICHED THE SYNAGOGUE.
THE Synagogue of the Gates of Heaven was crowded
members, orphan boys, Schnorrers, all were met in
celebration of the Sabbath. But the President of the
Mahamad was missing. He was still inconvenienced by
the effects of his stroke, and deemed it most prudent to
pray at home. The Council of Five had not met since
Manasseh had dissolved it, and so the matter of his daugh-
ter's marriage was left hanging, as indeed was not seldom
the posture of matters discussed by Sephardic bodies. The
authorities thus passive, Manasseh found scant difficulty in
imposing his will upon the minor officers, less ready than
himself with constitutional precedent. His daughter was to
be married under the Sephardic canopy, and no jot of
synagogual honour was to be bated the bridegroom. On
this Sabbath the last before the wedding Yankel was
to be called to the Reading of the Law like a true-born
Portuguese. He made his first appearance in the Synagogue
of his bride's fathers with a feeling of solemn respect, not
exactly due to Manasseh's grandiose references to the
ancient temple. He had walked the courtyard with levity,
half prepared, from previous experience of his intended
father-in-law, to find the glories insubstantial. Their unex-
pected actuality awed him, and he was glad he was dressed
in his best. His beaver hat, green trousers, and brown coat
equalled him with the massive pillars, the gleaming cande-
labra, and the stately roof. Da Costa, for his part, had
made no change in his attire ; he dignified his shabby
vestments, stuffing them with royal manhood, and wearing
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS. 129
his snuff-coloured over-garment like a purple robe. There
was, in sooth, an official air about his habiliment, and to the
worshippers it was as impressively familiar as the black stole
and white bands of the Cantor. It seemed only natural
that he should be called to the Reading first, quite apart
from the fact that he was a Cohen, of the family of Aaron,
the High Priest, a descent that, perhaps, lent something to
the loftiness of his carriage.
When the Minister intoned vigorously, " The good name,
Manasseh, the son of Judah, the Priest, the man, shall arise
to read in the Law," every eye was turned with a new inte.-
est on the prospective father-in-law. Manasseh arose com-
posedly, and, hitching his sliding prayer-shawl over his left
shoulder, stalked to the reading platform, where he chanted
the blessings with imposing flourishes, and stood at the
Minister's right hand while his section of the Law was read
from the sacred scroll. There was many a man of figure in
the congregation, but none who became the platform better.
It was beautiful to see him pay his respects to the scroll ; it
reminded one of the meeting of two sovereigns. The great
moment, however, was when, the section being concluded,
the Master Reader announced Manasseh's donations to the
Synagogue. The financial statement was incorporated in
a long Benediction, like a coin wrapped up in folds of paper.
This was always a great moment, even when inconsiderable
personalities were concerned, each man's generosity being
the subject of speculation before and comment after. Ma-
nasseh, it was felt, would, although a mere Schnorrer, rise to
the height of the occasion, and offer as much as seven and
sixpence. The shrewder sort suspected he would split it up
into two or three separate offerings, to give an air of inex-
haustible largess.
The shrewder sort were right and wrong, as is their habit.
130 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
The Master Reader began his quaint formula, " May He
who blessed our Fathers," pausing at the point where the
Hebrew is blank for the amount. He span out the prefatory
"Who vows" the last note prolonging itself, like the
vibration of a tuning-fork, at a literal pitch of suspense. It
was a sensational halt, due to his forgetting the amounts or
demanding corroboration at the eleventh hour, and the
stingy often recklessly amended their contributions, panic-
struck under the pressure of imminent publicity.
" Who vows " The congregation hung upon his lips.
With his usual gesture of interrogation, he inclined his ear
towards Manasseh's mouth, his face wearing an unusual look
of perplexity ; and those nearest the platform were aware of
a little colloquy between the Schnorrer and the Master
Reader, the latter bewildered and agitated, the former
stately. The delay had discomposed the Master as much
as it had whetted the curiosity of the congregation. He
repeated :
"Who vows cinco livras" he went on glibly without
a pause "for charity for the life of Yankov ben Yitz-
chok, his son-in-law, &c., &c." But few of the worshippers
heard any more than the cinco livras (five pounds). A
thrill ran through the building. Men pricked up their ears,
incredulous, whispering one another. One man deliberately
moved from his place towards the box in which sat the Chief
of the Elders, the presiding dignitary in the absence of the
President of the Mahamad.
"I didn't catch how much was that?" he asked.
" Five pounds," said the Chief of the Elders shortly. He
suspected an irreverent irony in the Beggar's contribution.
The Benediction came to an end, but ere the hearers had
time to realise the fact, the Master Reader had started on
another. " May He who blessed our fathers ! " he began,
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
131
in the strange traditional recitative. The wave of curiosity
mounted again, higher than before.
" Who vows "
The wave hung an instant, poised and motionless.
" Cincv livras /"
The wave broke in a low murmur, amid which the Master
"'i DIDN'T CATCH.' "
imperturbably proceeded, " For oil for the life of his
daughter Deborah, &c." When he reached the end there
was a poignant silence.
Was it to be da capo again ?
" May He who blessed our fathers ! "
The wave of curiosity surged once more, rising and sub-
siding with this ebb and flow of financial Benediction.
" Who vows cinco livras for the wax candles."
132 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
This time the thrill, the whisper, the flutter, swelled into
a positive buzz. The gaze of the entire congregation was
focussed upon the Beggar, who stood impassive in the blaze
of glory. Even the orphan boys, packed in their pew, paused
in their inattention to the Service, and craned their necks
towards the platform. The veriest magnates did not thus
play piety with five pound points. In the ladies' gallery
the excitement was intense. The occupants gazed eagerly
through the grille. One woman a buxom dame of forty
summers, richly clad and jewelled had risen, and was
tiptoeing frantically over the woodwork, her feather waving
like a signal of distress. It was Manasseh's wife. The
waste of money maddened her, each donation hit her like
a poisoned arrow ; in vain she strove to catch her spouse's
eye. The air seemed full of gowns and toques and farthin-
gales flaming away under her very nose, without her being
able to move hand or foot in rescue ; whole wardrobes per-
ished at each Benediction. It was with the utmost difficulty
she restrained herself from shouting down to her prodigal
lord. At her side the radiant Deborah vainly tried to pacify
her by assurances that Manasseh never intended to pay up.
" Who vows " The Benediction had begun for a fourth
time.
" Cinco livras for the Holy Land." And the sensation
grew. " For the life of this holy congregation, &c."
The Master Reader's voice droned on impassively, inter-
minably.
The fourth Benediction was drawing to its close, when the
beadle was seen to mount the platform and whisper in his
ear. Only Manasseh overheard the message.
" The Chief of the Elders says you must stop. This is
mere mockery. The man is a Schnorrer, an impudent
beggar."
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS,
The beadle descend-
ed the steps, and after
a moment of inaudi-
ble discussion with da
Costa, the Master
Reader lifted up his
voice afresh.
The Chief of the
Elders frowned and
clenched his praying-
shawl angrily. It was a
fifth Benediction ! But
the Reader's sing-song
went on, for Manas-
seh's wrath was nearer
than the magnate's.
"Who vows
cinco livras for
the Captives
for the life of the
Chief of the Eld-
ers !"
The Chief bit
his lip furiously
at this delicate
venge ; galled almost
to frenzy by the aggra-
vating foreboding that
the congregation would
construe his message
as a solicitation of the
polite attention. For
it was of the amenities
of the Synagogue for
re- i.
7
" SHE STROVE TO CATCH HER SPOUSE'S EYE.'
134 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
rich people to present these Benedictions to one another.
And so the endless stream of donatives flowed on, pro-
voking the hearers to fever pitch. The very orphan boys
forgot that this prolongation of the service was retarding
their breakfasts indefinitely. Every warden, dignitary and
official, from the President of the Mahamad down to the
very Keeper of the Bath, was honoured by name in a special
Benediction, the chief of Manasseh's weekly patrons were
repaid almost in kind on this unique and festive occasion.
Most of the congregation kept count of the sum total, which
was mounting, mounting
Suddenly there was a confusion in the ladies' gallery, cries,
a babble of tongues. The beadle hastened upstairs to im-
pose his authority. The rumour circulated that Mrs. da
Costa had fainted and been carried out. It reached Manas-
seh's ears, but he did not move. He stood at his post,
unfaltering, donating, blessing.
" Who vows cinco livras for the life of his wife,
Sarah ! " And a faint sardonic smile flitted across the
Beggar's face.
The oldest worshipper wondered if the record would be
broken. Manasseh's benefactions were approaching thrill-
ingly near the highest total hitherto reached by any one
man upon any one occasion. Every brain was troubled by
surmises. The Chief of the Elders, fuming impotently, was
not alone in apprehending a blasphemous mockery ; but the
bulk imagined that the Schnorrer had come into property
or had always been a man of substance, and was now taking
this means of restoring to the Synagogue the funds he had
drawn from it. And the fountain of Benevolence played on.
The record figure was reached and left in the rear. When
at length the poor Master Reader, sick unto death of the
oft-repeated formula (which might just as well have covered
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
135
all the contributions the first time, though Manasseh had
commanded each new Benediction as if by an after- thought),
was allowed to summon the Levite who succeeded Manasseh,
the Synagogue had been enriched by a hundred pounds.
The last Benediction had been coupled with the name of the
poorest Schnorrer
present an asser-
tion and glorification
of Manasseh's own
order that put the
coping-stone on this
sensational memorial
of the Royal Wed-
ding. It was, indeed,
a kingly munificence,
a sovereign gracious-
ness. Nay, before the
Service was over, Ma-
nasseh even begged
the Chief of the Eld-
ers to permit a spe-
cial Rogation to be
said for a sick person.
The Chief, meanly
snatching at this op-
portunity of reprisals, refused, till, learning that Manasseh
alluded to the ailing President of the Mahamad, he collapsed
ingloriously.
But the real hero of the day was Yankel, who shone
chiefly by reflected light, but yet shone even more bril-
liantly than the Spaniard, for to him was added the double
lustre of the bridegroom and the stranger, and he was the
cause and centre of the sensation.
'MRS. DA COSTA HAD FAINTED."
136 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
His eyes twinkled continuously throughout.
The next day, Manasseh fared forth to collect the hundred
pounds !
The day being Sunday, he looked to find most of his
clients at home. He took Grobstock first as being nearest,
but the worthy speculator and East India Director espied
him from an upper window, and escaped by a back-door
into Goodman's Fields a prudent measure, seeing that
the incredulous Manasseh ransacked the house in quest of
him. Manasseh's manner was always a search-warrant.
The King consoled himself by paying his next visit to a
personage who could not possibly evade him none other
than the sick President of the Mahamad. He lived in Devon-
shire Square, in solitary splendour. Him Manasseh bearded
in his library, where the convalescent was sorting his collec-
tion of prints. The visitor had had himself announced as a
gentleman on synagogual matters, and the public-spirited
President had not refused himself to the business. But when
he caught sight of Manasseh, his puffy features were dis-
torted, he breathed painfully, and put his hand to his hip.
" You ! " he gasped.
" Have a care, my dear sir ! Have a care ! " said Manas-
seh anxiously, as he seated himself. " You are still weak.
To come to the point for I would not care to distract too
much a man indispensable to the community, who has
already felt the hand of the Almighty for his treatment of
the poor "
He saw that his words were having effect, for these pros-
perous pillars of the Synagogue were mightily superstitious
under affliction, and he proceeded in gentler tones. " To
come to the point, it is my duty to inform you (for I am
the only man who is certain of it) that while you have been
away our Synagogue has made a bad debt ! "
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
137
" A bad debt ! " An angry light leapt into the Presi-
dent's eyes. There had been an ancient practice of lending
out the funds to members, and the President had always set
his face against the survival of the policy. " It would not
have been made had I been there ! " he cried.
"SORTING HIS COLLECTION OF PRINTS."
"No, indeed," admitted Manasseh. "You would have
stopped it in its early stages. The Chief of the Elders
tried, but failed."
"The dolt!" cried the President. "A man without a
backbone. How much is it?"
138 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
" A hundred pounds ! "
" A hundred pounds ! " echoed the President, seriously
concerned at this blot upon his year of office. " And who
is the debtor?"
" I am."
" You ! You have borrowed a hundred pounds, you
you jackanapes ! "
" Silence, sir ! How dare you ? I should leave this
apartment at once, were it not that I cannot go without your
apology. Never in my life have I borrowed a hundred
pounds nay, never have I borrowed one farthing. I am
no borrower. If you are a gentleman, you will apologise ! "
" I am sorry if I misunderstood," murmured the poor
President, " but how, then, do you owe the money? "
"How, then?" repeated Manasseh impatiently. "Can-
not you understand that I have donated it to the Syna-
gogue ? "
The President stared at him open-mouthed.
" I vowed it yesterday in celebration of my daughter's
marriage."
The President let a sigh of relief pass through his open
mouth. He was even amused a little.
"Oh, is that all? It was like your deuced effrontery;
but still, the Synagogue doesn't lose anything. There's no
harm done."
" What is that you say ? " enquired Manasseh sternly. " Do
you mean to say I am not to pay this money? "
" How can you ? "
" How can I ? I come to you and others like you to pay
it for me."
" Nonsense ! Nonsense ! " said the President, begin-
ning to lose his temper again. " We'll let it pass. There's
no harm done."
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS. 139
"And this is the President of the Mahamad ! " soliloquised
the Schnorrer in bitter astonishment. " This is the chief of
our ancient, godly Council ! What, sir ! Do you hold
words spoken solemnly in Synagogue of no account?
Would you have me break my solemn vow? Do you
wish to bring the Synagogue institutions into contempt?
Do you a man already once stricken by Heaven in-
vite its chastisement again ? "
The President had grown pale his brain was reeling.
" Nay, ask its forgiveness, sir," went on the King implac-
ably ; " and make good this debt of mine in token of your
remorse, as it is written, ' And repentance, and prayer, and
charity avert the evil decree.' "
" Not a penny ! " cried the President, with a last gleam
of lucidity, and strode furiously towards the bell-pull. Then
he stood still in sudden recollection of a similar scene in
the Council Chamber.
" You need not trouble to ring for a stroke," said Manas-
seh grimly. "Then the Synagogue is to be profaned,
then even the Benediction which I in all loyalty and forgive-
ness caused to be said for the recovery of the President of
the Mahamad is to be null, a mockery in the sight of the
Holy One, blessed be He ! "
The President tottered into his reading-chair.
" How much did you vow on my behalf? "
"Five pounds."
The President precipitately drew out a pocket-book and
extracted a crisp Bank of England note.
" Give it to the Chancellor," he breathed, exhausted.
" I am punished," quoth Manasseh plaintively as he
placed it in his bosom. " I should have vowed ten for
you." And he bowed himself out.
In like manner did he collect other contributions that
140 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
day from Sephardic celebrities, pointing out that now a
foreign Jew Yankel6 to wit had been admitted to their
communion, it behoved them to show themselves at their
best. What a bad effect it would have on Yankete if a
Sephardi was seen to vow with impunity ! First impres-
sions were everything, and they could not be too careful.
It would not do for Yankele to circulate contumelious
reports of them among his kin. Those who remonstrated
with him over his extravagance he reminded that he had
only one daughter, and he drew their attention to the
favourable influence his example had had on the Saturday
receipts. Not a man of those who came after him in the
Reading had ventured to offer half-crowns. He had fixed
the standard in gold for that day at least, and who knew
what noble emulation he had fired for the future?
Every man who yielded to Manasseh's eloquence was a
step to reach the next, for Manasseh made a list of donors,
and paraded it reproachfully before those who had yet to
give. Withal, the most obstinate resistance met him in
some quarters. One man a certain Rodriques, inhabiting
a mansion in Finsbury Circus was positively rude.
" If I came in a carriage, you'd soon pull out your ten-
pound note for the Synagogue," sneered Manasseh, his
blood boiling.
"Certainly I would," admitted Rodriques laughing.
And Manasseh shook off the dust of his threshold in dis-
dain.
By reason of such rebuffs, his collection for the day only
reached about thirty pounds, inclusive of the value of some
depreciated Portuguese bonds which he good-naturedly
accepted as though at par.
Disgusted with the meanness of mankind, da Costa's
genius devised more drastic measures. Having carefully
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS. 141
locked up the proceeds of Sunday's operations, and, indeed,
nearly all his loose cash, in his safe, for, to avoid being put
to expense, he rarely carried money on his person, unless he
gathered it en route, he took his way to Bishopsgate Within,
to catch the stage for Clapton. The day was bright, and he
hummed a festive Synagogue tune as he plodded leisurely
with his stick along the bustling, narrow pavements, bordered
by costers' barrows at one edge, and by jagged houses, over-
hung by grotesque signboards, at the other, and thronged by
cits in worsted hose.
But when he arrived at the inn he found the coach had
started. Nothing concerned, he ordered a post-chaise in a
supercilious manner, criticising the horses, and drove to
Clapton in style, drawn by a pair of spanking steeds, to the
music of the postillion's horn. Very soon they drew out of
the blocked roads, with their lumbering procession of carts,
coaches, and chairs, and into open country, green with the
fresh verdure of the spring. The chaise stopped at " The
Red Cottage," a pretty yilla, whose facade was covered with
Virginian creeper that blushed in the autumn. Manasseh
was surprised at the taste with which the lawn was laid out
in the Italian style, with grottoes and marble figures. The
householder, hearing the windings of the horn, conceived
himself visited by a person of quality, and sent a icssage
that he was in the hands of his hairdresser, but would be
down in less than half an hour. This was of a piece with
Manasseh 's information concerning the man a certain
Belasco, emulous of the great fops, an amateur of satin
waistcoats and novel shoestrings, and even said to affect a
spying-glass when he showed at Vauxhall. Manasseh had
never seen him, not having troubled to go so far afield, but
from the handsome appurtenances of the hall and the stair-
case he augured the best. The apartments were even more
142 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
to his liking ; they were oak panelled, and crammed with
the most expensive objects of art and luxury. The walls
of the drawing-room were frescoed, and from the ceiling
depended a brilliant lustre, with seven spouts for illumination.
Having sufficiently examined the furniture, Manasseh grew
weary of waiting, and betook himself to Belasco's bed-
chamber.
" You will excuse me, Mr. Belasco," he said, as he entered
through the half open door, " but my business is urgent."
The young dandy, who was seated before a mirror, did
not look up, but replied, " Have a care, sir, you well nigh
startled my hairdresser."
"Far be it from me to willingly discompose an artist,"
replied Manasseh drily, " though from the elegance of the
design, I venture to think my interruption will not make a
hair's-breadth of difference. But I come on a matter which
the son of Benjamin Belasco will hardly deny is more press-
ing than his toilette."
" Nay, nay, sir, what can be more momentous ? "
" The Synagogue ! " said Manasseh austerely.
"Pah! What are you talking of, sir?" and he looked
up cautiously for the first time at the picturesque figure.
" What does the Synagogue want of me ? I pay my finta
and every bill the rascals send me. Monstrous fine sums,
too, egad "
" But you never go there ! "
"No, indeed, a man of fashion cannot be everywhere.
Routs and rigotti play the deuce with one's time."
" What a pity ! " mused Manasseh ironically. " One
misses you there. 'Tis no edifying spectacle a slovenly
rabble with none to set the standard of taste."
The pale-faced beau's eyes lit up with a gleam of interest.
"Ah, the clods !" he said. "You should yourself be a
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS. 143
buck of the eccentric school by your dress. But I stick to
the old tradition of elegance."
"You had better stick to the old tradition of piety,"
quoth Manasseh. " Your father was a saint, you are a sin-
ner in Israel. Return to the Synagogue, and herald your
return by contributing to its finances. It has made a bad
debt, and I am collecting money to reimburse it."
The young exquisite yawned. " I know not who you may
be," he said at length, " but you are evidently not one of us.
As for the Synagogue I am willing to reform its dress, but
dem'd if I will give a shilling more to its finances. Let your
slovenly rabble of tradesmen pay the piper I cannot
afford it ! "
" You cannot afford it ! "
"No you see I have such extravagant tastes."
" But I give you the opportunity for extravagance," ex-
postulated Manasseh. " What greater luxury is there than
that of doing good ? "
" Confound it, sir, I must ask you to go," said Beau Be-
lasco coldly. " Do you not perceive that you are discon-
certing my hairdresser? "
" I could not abide a moment longer under this profane,
if tasteful, roof," said Manasseh, backing sternly towards the
door. " But I would make one last appeal to you, for the
sake of the repose of your father's soul, to forsake your evil
ways."
"Be hanged to you for a meddler," retorted the young
blood. " My money supports men of genius and taste it
shall not be frittered away on a pack of fusty shopkeepers."
The Schnorrer drew himself up to his full height, his eyes
darted fire. " Farewell, then ! " he hissed in terrible tones.
" You will make the third at Grace! "
He vanished the dandy started up full of vague alarm,
144 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
forgetting even his hair in the mysterious menace of that
terrifying sibilation.
" What do you mean? " he cried.
" I mean," said Manasseh, reappearing at the door, " that
since the world was created, only two men have taken
their clothes with them to the world to come. One was
Korah, who was swallowed down, the other was Elijah, who
HE HISSED."
was borne aloft. It is patent in which direction the third
will go."
The sleeping chord of superstition vibrated under Manas-
seh's dexterous touch.
" Rejoice, O young man, in your strength," went on the
Beggar, " but a day will come when only the corpse-watchers
will perform your toilette. In plain white they will dress you,
and the devil shall never know what a dandy you were."
" But who are you, that I should give you money for the
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS. 145
Synagogue?" asked the Beau sullenly. "Where are your
credentials ? "
"Was it to insult me that you called me back? Do I
look a knave? Nay, put up your purse. I'll have none of
your filthy gold. Let me go."
Gradually Manasseh was won round to accepting ten
sovereigns.
" For your father's sake," he said, pocketing them. " The
only thing I will take for your sake is the cost of my con-
veyance. I had to post hither, and the Synagogue must not
be the loser."
Beau Belasco gladly added the extra money, and reseated
himself before the mirror, with agreeable sensations in his
neglected conscience. "You see," he observed, half apolo-
getically, for Manasseh still lingered, " one cannot do every-
thing. To be a prince of dandies, one needs all one's time."
He waved his hand comprehensively around the walls which
were lined with wardrobes. " My buckskin breeches were
the result of nine separate measurings. Do you note how
they fit?"
"They scarcely do justice to your eminent reputation,"
replied Manasseh candidly.
Beau Belasco's face became whiter than even at the
thought of earthquakes and devils. "They fit me to burst-
ing ! " he breathed.
" But are they in the pink of fashion? " queried Manasseh.
" And assuredly the nankeen pantaloons yonder I recollect to
have seen worn last year."
" My tailor said they were of a special cut 'tis a shape
I am introducing, baggy to go with frilled shirts."
Manasseh shook his head sceptically, whereupon the Beau
besought him to go through his wardrobe, and set aside
anything that lacked originality or extreme fashionable-
146 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
ness. After considerable reluctance Manasseh consented,
and set aside a few cravats, shirts, periwigs, and suits from
the immense collection.
" Aha ! That is all you can find," said the Beau glee-
fully.
" Yes, that is all," said Manasseh sadly. " All I can find
that does any justice to your fame. These speak the man
of polish and invention ; the rest are but tawdry frippery.
Anybody might wear them."
" Anybody ! " gasped the poor Beau, stricken to the soul.
" Yes, I might wear them myself."
" Thank you ! Thank you ! You are an honest man.
I love true criticism, when the critic has nothing to gain. I
am delighted you called. These rags shall go to my valet."
" Nay, why waste them on the heathen?" asked Manas-
seh, struck with a sudden thought. " Let me dispose of
them for the benefit of the Synagogue."
" If it would not be troubling you too much ! "
"Is there anything I would not do for Heaven?" said
Manasseh with a patronising air. He threw open the door
of the adjoining piece suddenly, disclosing the scowling
valet on his knees. " Take these down, my man," he said
quietly, and the valet was only too glad to hide his confusion
at being caught eavesdropping by hastening down to the
drive with an armful of satin waistcoats.
Manasseh, getting together the remainder, shook his
head despairingly. " I shall never get these into the post-
chaise," he said. " You will have to lend me your carriage."
"Can't you come back for them?" said the Beau feebly.
" Why waste the Synagogue's money on hired vehicles ?
No, if you will crown your kindness by sending the footman
along with me to help me unpack them, you shall have your
equipage back in an hour or two."
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
147
So the carriage and pair were brought out, and Manasseh,
pressing into his service the coachman, the valet, and the
footman, superintended the packing of the bulk of Beau
Belasco's wardrobe into the two vehicles. Then he took
his seat in the carriage, the coachman and the gorgeous
powdered footman got into their
places, and with a joyous fanfaron-
ade on the horn, the procession set
off, Manasseh bowing
graciously to the mas-
ter of "The Red
House," who was wav-
ing his beruffled hand
from a .window em-
bowered in greenery.
After a pleasant drive,
the vehicles halted at
the house, guarded by
stone lions, in which
dwelt Nathaniel Fur-
tado, the wealthy pri-
vate dealer, who will-
ingly gave fifteen
pounds for the buck's
belaced and embroid-
ered vestments, be-
sides being inveigled into a donation of a guinea towards
the Synagogue's bad debt. Manasseh thereupon dismissed
the chaise with a handsome gratuity, and drove in state in
the now-empty carriage, attended by the powdered footman,
to Finsbury Circus, to the mansion of Rodriques. " I have
come for my ten pounds," he said, and reminded him of
his promise ( ?) . Rodriques laughed, and swore, and laughed
'THE SCOWLING VALET ON HIS KNEES.'
148 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
again, and swore that the carriage was hired, to be paid for
out of the ten pounds.
"Hired?" echoed Manasseh resentfully. "Do you not
recognise the arms of my friend, Beau Belasco ? " And he
presently drove off with the note, for Rodriques had a
roguish eye. And then, parting with the chariot, the King
took his way on foot to Fenchurch Street, to the house of
his cousin Barzillai, the ex- planter of Barbadoes, and now
a West Indian merchant.
Barzillai, fearing humiliation before his clerks, always car-
ried his relative off to the neighbouring Franco's Head Tav-
ern, and humoured him with costly liquors.
" But you had no right to donate money you did not
possess ; it was dishonest," he cried with irrepressible ire.
" Hoity toity ! " said Manasseh, setting down his glass so
vehemently that the stem shivered. "And were you not
called to the Law after me? And did you not donate
money? "
" Certainly ! But I had the money."
"What! 0%4you?"
" No, no, certainly not. I do not carry money on the
Sabbath."
" Exactly. Neither do I."
" But the money was at my bankers'."
" And so it was at mine. You are my bankers, you and
others like you. You draw on your bankers I draw on
mine." And his cousin being thus confuted, Manasseh had
not much further difficulty in wheedling two pounds ten out
of him.
" And now," said he, " I really think you ought to do
something to lessen the Synagogue's loss."
" But I have just given ! " quoth Barzillai in bewilderment.
" That you gave to me as your cousin, to enable your
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
149
relative to discharge his obligations. I put it strictly on a
personal footing. But now I am pleading on behalf of the
Synagogue, which stands to lose heavily. You are a Seph-
ardi as well as my cousin. It is a distinction not unlike
the one I have so often to explain to you. You owe me
charity, not only as a cousin, but as a Schnorrer likewise."
And, having wrested another guinea from the obfuscated
merchant, he repaired to Grobstock's business office in
search of the defaulter.
But the wily Grobstock, forewarned by Manasseh's prom-
ise to visit him, and further frightened by his Sunday
morning call, had denied himself to the Schnorrer or any-
one remotely resembling him, and it was not till the after-
noon that Manasseh ran him to earth at Sampson's coffee-
house in Exchange Alley, where the brokers foregathered,
150 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
and 'prentices and students swaggered in to abuse the
Ministers, and all kinds of men from bloods to barristers
loitered to pick up hints to easy riches. Manasseh detected
his quarry in the furthermost box, his face hidden behind
a broadsheet.
" Why do you always come to me ? " muttered the East
India Director helplessly.
"Eh?" said Manasseh, mistrustful of his own ears. "I
beg your pardon."
" If your own community cannot support you," said
Grobstock, more loudly, and with all the boldness of an
animal driven to bay, " why not go to Abraham Goldsmid,
or his brother Ben, or to Van Oven, or Oppenheim
they're all more prosperous than I."
" Sir ! " said Manasseh wrathfully. " You are a skilful
nay, a famous, financier. You know what stocks to buy,
what stocks to sell, when to follow a rise, and when a fall.
When the Premier advertises the loans, a thousand specula-
tors look to you for guidance. What would you say if 1
presumed to interfere in your financial affairs if I told you
to issue these shares or to call in those? You would tell
me to mind my own business ; and you would be perfectly
right. Now Schnorring is my business. Trust me, I know
best whom to come to. You stick to stocks and leave
Schnorring alone. You are the King of Financiers, but
I am the King of Schnorrers."
Grobstock's resentment at the rejoinder was mitigated
by the compliment to his financial insight. To be put on
the same level with the Beggar was indeed unexpected.
" Will you have a cup of coffee ? " he said.
" I ought scarcely to drink with you after your reception
of me," replied Manasseh unappeased. " It is not even
as if I came to schnorr for myself; it is to the finances
"HIS FACE HIDDEN BEHIND A BROADSHEET."
151
152 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
of our house of worship that I wished to give you an oppor-
tunity of contributing."
"Aha! your vaunted community hard up?" queried
Joseph, with a complacent twinkle.
" Sir ! We are the richest congregation in the world.
We want nothing from anybody," indignantly protested
Manasseh, as he absent-mindedly took the cup of coffee
which Grobstock had ordered for him. "The difficulty
merely is that, in honour of my daughter's wedding, I have
donated a hundred pounds to the Synagogue which I have
not yet managed to collect, although I have already devoted
a day-and-a-half of my valuable time to the purpose."
" But why do you come to me ? "
" What ! Do you ask me that again? "
"I I mean," stammered Grobstock "why should
I contribute to a Portuguese Synagogue ? "
Manasseh clucked his tongue in despair of such stupidity.
"It is just you who should contribute more than any
Portuguese."
" I ? " Grobstock wondered if he was awake.
" Yes, you. Was not the money spent in honour of the
marriage of a German Jew ? It was a splendid vindication
of your community."
" This is too much ! " cried Grobstock, outraged and
choking.
"Too much to mark the admission to our fold of the
first of your sect ! I am disappointed in you, deeply
disappointed. I thought you would have applauded my
generous behaviour."
" I don't care what you thought ! " gasped Grobstock.
He was genuinely exasperated at the ridiculousness of the
demand, but he was also pleased to find himself preserving
so staunch a front against the insidious Schnorrer. If
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS. 153
he could only keep firm now, he told himself, he might
emancipate himself for ever. Yes, he would be strong, and
Manasseh should never dare address him again. " I won't
pay a stiver," he roared.
" If you make a scene I will withdraw," said Manasseh
quietly. " Already there are ears and eyes turned upon
you. From your language people will be thinking me a
dun and you a bankrupt."
" They can go to the devil ! " thundered Grobstock,
" and you too ! "
" Blasphemer ! You counsel me to ask the devil to con-
tribute to the Synagogue ! I will not bandy words with
you. You refuse, then, to contribute to this fund?"
" I do, I see no reason."
" Not even the five pounds I vowed on behalf of Yankete
himself one of your own people ? "
" What ! I pay in honour of Yanked a dirty Schnorrer ! "
"Is this the way you speak of your guests?" said
Manasseh, in pained astonishment. " Do you forget that
Yankel6 has broken bread at your table? Perhaps this
is how you talk of me when my back is turned. But,
beware ! Remember the saying of our sages, ' You and I
cannot live in the world,' said God to the haughty man.
Come, now ! No more paltering or taking refuge in abuse.
You refuse me this beggarly five pounds? "
" Most decidedly."
" Very well, then ! "
Manasseh called the attendant.
"What are you about to do?" cried Grobstock appre-
hensively.
" You shall see," said Manasseh resolutely, and when the
attendant came, he pressed the price of his cup of coffee
into his hand.
154 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
Grobstock flushed in silent humiliation. Manasseh rose.
Grobstock's fatal strain of weakness gave him a twinge of
compunction at the eleventh hour.
"You see for yourself how unreasonable your request
was," he murmured.
" Do not strive to justify yourself, I am done with you,"
said Manasseh. " I am done with you as a philanthropist.
For the future you may besnuff and bespatter your coat
as much as you please, for all the trouble I shall ever take.
As a financier, I still respect you, and may yet come to you,
but as a philanthropist, never."
"Anything I can do " muttered Grobstock vaguely.
" Let me see ! " said Manasseh, looking down upon him
thoughtfully. " Ah, yes, an idea ! I have collected over
sixty pounds. If you would invest this for me "
"Certainly, certainly," interrupted Grobstock, with con-
ciliatory eagerness.
" Good ! With your unrivalled knowledge of the markets,
you could easily bring it up to the necessary sum in a day
or two. Perhaps even there is some grand coup on the
tapis , something to be bulled or beared in which you have a
hand."
Grobstock nodded his head vaguely. He had already
remembered that the proceeding was considerably below
his dignity ; he was not a stockbroker, never had he done
anything of the kind for anyone.
" But suppose I lose it all? " he asked, trying to draw back.
" Impossible," said the Schnorrer serenely. " Do you
forget it is a Synagogue fund? Do you think the Almighty
will suffer His money to be lost?"
"Then why not speculate yourself?" said Grobstock
craftily.
" The Almighty's honour must be guarded. What !
THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
155
Shall He be less well served than an earthly monarch ? Do
you think I do not know your financial relations with the
Court? The service of the Almighty demands the best men.
I was the best man to collect the money you are the best
to invest it. To-morrow morning it shall be in your hands."
" No, don't trouble," said Grobstock feebly. " I don't
need the actual money
to deal with."
" I thank you for
your trust in me," re-
plied Manasseh with
emotion. " Now you
speak like yourself
again. I withdraw what
I said to you. I will
come to you again
to the philanthropist
no less than financier.
And and I am sorry
I paid for my coffee."
His voice quivered.
Grobstock was
touched. He took out
a sixpence and repaid
his guest with interest. Manasseh slipped the coin into his
pocket, and shortly afterwards, with some final admonitions
to his stock-jobber, took his leave.
Being in for the job, Grobstock resolved to make the
best of it. His latent vanity impelled him to astonish the
Beggar. It happened that he was on the point of a mag-
nificent manoeuvre, and alongside his own triton Manasseh's
minnow might just as well swim. He made the sixty odd
pounds into six hundred.
: STRUCK THE CHANCELLOR BREATHLESS.'
156 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
A few days after the Royal Wedding, the glories of
which are still a tradition among the degenerate Schnorrers
Of to-day, Manasseh struck the Chancellor breathless by
handing him a bag containing five score of sovereigns.
Thus did he honourably fulfil his obligation to the Syna-
gogue, and with more celerity than many a Warden. Nay,
more ! Justly considering the results of the speculation
should accrue to the Synagogue, whose money had been
risked, he, with Quixotic scrupulousness, handed over the
balance of five hundred pounds to the Mahamad, stipulat-
ing only that it should be used to purchase a life-annuity
(styled the Da Costa Fund) for a poor and deserving
member of the congregation, in whose selection he, as
donor, should have the ruling voice. The Council of Five
eagerly agreed to his conditions, and a special junta was
summoned for the election. The donor's choice fell upon
Manasseh Bueno Barzillai Azevedo da Costa, thenceforward
universally recognised, and hereby handed down to tradition,
as the King of Schnorrers.
THERE was nothing about the
outside of the Dragon to indicate
so large a percentage of senti-
ment. It was a mere every-day
Dragon, with the usual squamous
hide, glittering like silver armour,
, N a commonplace crested head with
717 a forked tongue, a tail like a
barbed arrow, a pair of fan-shaped wings, and four indiffer-
ently ferocious claws, one per foot. How it came to be so
susceptible you shall hear, and then, perhaps, you will be less
surprised at its unprecedented and undragonlike behaviour.
Once upon a time, as the good old chronicler, Richard
Johnson, relateth, Egypt was oppressed by a Dragon who
made a plaguy to-do unless given a virgin daily for dinner.
For twenty-four years the menu was practicable ; then the
supply gave out. There was absolutely no virgin left in the
realm save Sabra, the king's daughter. As 365 x 24 only
= 8760, I suspect that the girls were anxious to dodge the
Dragon by marrying in haste. The government of the day
seems to have been quite unworthy of confidence and utterly
unable to grapple with the situation, and poor Ptolemy was
reduced to parting with the Princess, though even so de-
struction was only staved off for a day, as virgins would be
157
158 THE SEMI-SENTIMENTAL DRAGON.
altogether "off" on the morrow. So short-sighted was the
Egyptian policy that this does not appear to have occurred
to anybody. At the last moment an English tourist from
Coventry, known as George (and afterwards sainted by an
outgoing administration sent to his native borough by the
country), resolved to tackle the monster. The chivalrous
Englishman came to grief in the encounter, but by rolling
under an orange tree he was safe from the Dragon so long
as he chose to stay there, and so in the end had no difficulty
in despatching the creature ; which suggests that the sooth-
sayers and the magicians would have been much better occu-
pied in planting orange trees than in sacrificing virgins. Thus
far the story, which is improbable enough to be an allegory.
Now many centuries after these events did not happen,
a certain worthy citizen, an illiterate fellow, but none the
worse for that, made them into a pantomime to wit, St.
George and the Dragon ; or, Harlequin Tom Thumb. And
the same was duly played at a provincial theatre, with a
lightly clad chorus of Egyptian lasses, in glaring contradic-
tion of the dearth of such in the fable, and a Sabra who
sang to them a topical song about the County Council.
Curiously enough, in private life, Sabra, although her
name was Miss on the posters, was really a Miss. She was
quite as young and pretty as she looked, too, and only
rouged herself for the sake of stage perspective. I don't
mean to say she was as beautiful as the Egyptian princess,
who was as straight as a cedar and wore her auburn hair in
wanton ringlets, but she was a sprightly little body with
sparkling eyes and a complexion that would have been a
good advertisement to any soap on earth. But better than
Sabra's skin was Sabra's heart, which though as yet un-
touched by man was full of love and tenderness, and did
not faint under the burden of supporting her mother and
THE SEMI-SENTIMENTAL DRAGON.
159
the household. For instead of having a king for a sire,
Sabra had a drunken scene-shifter for a father. Everybody
" INSTEAD OF HAVING A KING FOR A SIRE, SABRA HAD A DRUNKEN
SCENE-SHIFTER FOR A FATHER."
about the theatre liked Sabra, from the actor-manager (who
played St. George) to the stage door-keeper (who played
St. Peter) . Even her under-study did not wish her ill.
160 THE SEMI-SENTIMENTAL DRAGON.
Needless, therefore, to say it was Sabra who made the
Dragon semi-sentimental. Not in the "book," of course,
where his desire to eat her remained purely literal. Real
Dragons keep themselves aloof from sentiment, but a stage
Dragon is only human. Such a one may be entirely the
slave of sentiment, and it was perhaps to the credit of our
Dragon that only half of him was in the bonds. The
other half and that the better half was saturnine and
teetotal, and answered to the name of Davie Brigg.
Davie was the head man on the Dragon. He played the
anterior parts, waggled the head and flapped the wings and
sent gruesome grunts and penny squibs through the " fire-
breathing " jaws. He was a dour middle-aged, but stage-
struck, Scot, very proud of his rapid rise in the profession,
for he had begun as a dramatist.
The rear of the Dragon was simply known as Jimmy.
Jimmy was a wreck. His past was a mystery. His face
was a brief record of baleful experiences, and he had the
aspirates of a gentleman. He had gone on the stage to
be out of the snow and the rain. Not knowing this, the
actor-manager paid him ninepence a night. His wages just
kept him in beer-money. The original Sabra tamed two
lions, but perhaps it was a greater feat to tame this half of a
Dragon.
Jimmy's tenderness for Sabra began at rehearsal, when he
saw a good deal of her, and felicitated himself on the fact
that they were on in the same scenes. After a while, how-
ever, he perceived this to be a doleful drawback, for whereas
at rehearsal he could jump out of his skin and breathe him-
self and feast his eyes on Sabra when the Dragon was dis-
engaged, on the stage he was forced to remain cramped in
darkness while Ptolemy was clowning or St. George execut-
ing a step dance. Sabra was invisible, except for an odd
THE SEMI-SENTIMENTAL DRAGON.
161
moment or so between the scenes when he caught sight of
her gliding to her dressing-room like a streak of discreet
sunshine. Still he had his compensations ; her dulcet notes
reached his darkness (mellowed by the painted canvas and
the tin scales sewn over it), as the chant of the unseen
cuckoo reaches the woodland wanderer. Sometimes, when
she sang that song about the County Council, he forgot to
wag his tail.
"SOMETIMES, WHEN SHE SANG THAT SONG ABOUT THE COUNTY
COUNCIL, HE FORGOT TO WAG HIS TAIL."
Thus was Love blind, while Indifference in the person of
Davie Brigg looked its full through the mask that stood for
the monster's head. After a bit Jimmy conceived a mad
envy of his superior's privileges ; he longed to see Sabra
through the Dragon's mouth. He was so weary of the little
strip of stage under the Dragon's belly, which, even if he
peered through the breathing-holes in the patch of paint-
disguised gauze let into its paunch, was the most he could
see. One night he asked Davie to change places with him.
162 THE SEMI-SENTIMENTAL DRAGON.
Davie's look of surprise and consternation was beautiful to
see.
" Do I hear aricht? " he asked.
" Just for a night," said Jimmy, abashed.
" But d'ye no ken this is a speakin' part? "
" I did not know that," faltered Jimmy.
"Where's your ears, mon?" inquired Davie sternly.
" Dinna ye hear me growlin' and grizzlin' and squealin' and
skirlin'?"
" Y e s," said Jimmy. " But I thought you did it at
random."
" Thocht I did it at random ! " cried Davie, holding up
his hands in horror. "And mebbe also ye thocht onybody
could do't ! "
Jimmy's shamed silence gave consent also to this un-
flinching interpretation of his thought.
"Ah weel ! " said Davie, with melancholy resignation, "this
is the artist's reward for his sweat and labour. Why, mon,
let me tell ye, ilka note is not ainly timed but modulatit to
the dramatic eenterest o' the moment, and that I hae prac-
tised the squeak hours at a time wi' a bagpiper. Tak' my
place, indeed ! Are ye fou again, or hae ye tint your senses ? "
" But you could do the words all the same. I only want
to see for once."
"And how d'ye think the words should sound, coming
from the creature's belly ? And what should ye see ! You
should nae ken where to go, I warrant. Come, I'll spier ye.
Where d'ye come in for the fight with St. George is it
R 2 EorLUE?"
" L U E," replied Jimmy feebly.
"Ye donnered auld runt!" cried Davie triumphantly.
" Tis neither one nor t'other. Tis R C. Why, ye're
capable of deein' up stage instead of down ! Ye'd spoil my
THE SEMI-SENTIMENTAL DRAGON.
163
great scene. And ye are to remember I wad bear the wyte
for 't, for naebody but our two sel's should ken the truth.
Nay, nay, my mon. I hae my responsibeelities to the man-
agement. Ye're all verra weel in a subordinate position, but
dinna ye aspire to more than beseems your abeelities. I am
richt glad ye spoke me.
Eh, but it would be an
awfu' thing if I was
taken bad and naebody
to play the part. I'll
warn the manager to
put on an under-study
betimes."
" Oh, but let me be
the under-study, then,"
pleaded Jimmy.
Davie sniffed scorn-
fully.
" Tis a braw thing,
ambeetion," he said,
" but there's a proverb
about it ye ken, meb-
be."
"But I'll notice
everything you do, and
exactly how you do it ! "
Davie relented a lit-
tle.
" Ah, weel," he said cautiously, " I'll bide a wee before
speaking to the manager."
But Davie remained doggedly robust, and so Jimmy still
walked in darkness. He often argued the matter out with
his superior, maintaining that they ought to toss for the
'BUT D'YE NO KEN THIS IS A SPEAKIN'
PART?'"
164 THE SEMI-SENTIMENTAL DRAGON.
position head or tail. Failing to convince Davie, he
offered him fourpence a night for the accommodation, but
Davie saw in this extravagance evidence of a determined
design to supplant him. In despair Jimmy watched for a
chance of slipping into the wire framework before Davie,
but the conscientious artist was always at his post first.
They held dialogues on the subject, while with pantomimic
license the chorus of Egyptian lasses was dancing round the
Dragon as if it were a maypole. Their angry messages to
each other vibrated along the wires of their prison-house,
rending the Dragon with intestinal war. Weave your cloud-
wrought Utopias, O social reformer, but wherever men in-
habit, there jealousy and disunion shall creep in, and this
gaudy canvas tent with its tin roofing was a hotbed of envy,
hatred, and all uncharitableness. Yet Love was there, too
a stranger, purer passion than the battered Jimmy had
ever known ; for it had the unselfishness of a love that can
never be more than a dream, that the beloved can never
even know of. Perhaps, if Jimmy had met Sabra before he
left off being a gentleman !
The silent, hopeless longing, the chivalrous devotion yearn-
ing dumbly within him, did not stop his beer ; he drank
more to drown his thoughts. Every night he entered into
his part gladly, knowing himself elevated in the zoological
scale, not degraded, by an assumption that made him only
half a beast. It was kind of Providence to hide him wholly
away from her vision, so that her bright eyes might not be
sullied by the sight of his foulness. None of the grinning
audience suspected the tragedy of the hind legs of the
Dragon, as blindly following their leader, they went "gal-
umphing " about the stage. The innocent children marvelled
at the monster, in wide-eyed excitement, unsuspecting even
its humanity, much less its double nature ; only Davie knew
THE SEMI-SENTIMENTAL DRAGON. 165
that in that Dragon there were the ruins of a man and the
makings of a great actor !
"Why are ye sae anxious to stand in my shoon?" he
would ask, when the hind legs became too obstreperous.
" I don't want to be in your shoes ; I only want to see
the stage for once."
But Davie would shake his head incredulously, making the
Dragon's mask wobble at the wrong cues. At last, once
when Sabra was singing, poor Jimmy, driven to extremities,
confessed the truth, and had the mortification of feeling the
wires vibrate with the Scotchman's silent laughter. He
blushed unseen.
But it transpired that Davie's amusement was not so much
scornful as sceptical. He still suspected the tail of a sinister
intention to wag the Dragon.
" Nae, nae," he said, " ye shallna get me to swallow that.
Ye're an unco puir creature, but ye're no sa daft as to want
the moon. She's a bonnie lassie, and I willna be surprised
if she catches a coronet in the end, when she makes a name
in Lunnon ; for the swells here, though I see a wheen foolish
faces nicht after nicht in the stalls, are but a puir lot. Eh,
but it's a gey grand tocher is a pretty face. In the mean-
whiles, like a canny girl, she's settin' her cap at the chief."
" Hold your tongue ! " hissed the hind legs. " She's as
pure as an angel."
" Hoot-toot ! " answered the head. " Dinna leebel the
angels. It's no an angel that lets her manager give her sly
squeezes and saft kisses that are nae in the stage directions."
" Then she can't know he's a married man," said the hind
legs hoarsely.
" Dinna fash yoursel' she kens that full weel and a
thocht or two more. Dod ! Ye should just see how she
and St. George carry on after my death scene, when he's
supposit to ha' rescued her and they fall a-cuddlin'."
166 THE SEMI-SENTIMENTAL DRAGON.
" You're a liar ! " said the hind legs.
Davie roared and breathed burning squibs and capered
about, and Jimmy had to prance after him in involuntary
pursuit. He felt choking in his stuffy hot black rollicking
dungeon. The thought of this bloated sexagenarian faked
up as a jeune premier, pawing that sweet little girl, sickened
him.
" Dom'd leear yersel ! " resumed Davie, coming to a stand-
still. " I maun believe my own eyes, what they tell me
nicht after nicht."
" Then let me see for myself, and I'll believe you."
" Ye dinna catch me like that," said Davie, chuckling.
After that poor Jimmy's anxiety to see the stage became
feverish. He even meditated malingering and going in
front of the house, but could only have got a distant view,
and at the risk of losing his place in an overcrowded pro-
fession. His opportunity came at length, but not till the
pantomime was half run out and the actor- manager sought
to galvanise it by a " second edition," which in sum meant
a new lot of the variety entertainers who came on and played
copophones before Ptolemy, did card-tricks in the desert,
and exhibited trained poodles to the palm-trees. But Davie,
determined to rise to the occasion, thought out a fresh con-
ception of his part, involving three new grunts, and was so
busy rehearsing them at home that he forgot the flight of the
hours and arrived at the theatre only in time to take
second place in the Dragon that was just waiting, half-
manned, at the wing. He was so flustered that he did not
even think of protesting for the first few minutes. When he
did protest, Jimmy said, " What are you jawing about ? This
is a second edition, isn't it? " and caracoled around, dragging
the unhappy Davie in his train.
"I'll tell the chief," groaned the hind legs.
THE SEMI-SENTIMENTAL DRAGON. 167
"All right, let him know you were late," answered the
head cheerfully.
" Eh, but it's pit-mirk, here. I canna see onything."
"You see I'm no liar. Shall I send a squib your way?"
" Nay, nay, nae larking. Mind the business or you'll ruin
my reputation."
" Mind my business, I'll mind yours," replied Jimmy
joyously, for the lovely Sabra was smiling right in his eyes.
A Dragon divided against itself cannot stand, so Davie had
to wait till the beast came off. To his horror Jimmy refused
to budge from his shell. He begged for just one " keek "
at the stage, but Jimmy replied : " You don't catch me like
that." Davie said little more, but he matured a crafty plan,
and in the next scene he whispered :
"Jimmy ! "
" Shut up, Davie ; I'm busy."
" I've got a pin, and if ye shallna promise to restore me
my richts after the next exit, ye shall feel the taste of it."
" You'll just stay where you are," came back the peremp-
tory reply.
Deep went the pin in Jimmy's rear, and the Dragon gave
such a howl that Davie's blood ran cold. Too late he re-
membered that it was not the Dragon's cue, and that he was
making havoc of nis own professional reputation. Through
the canvas he felt the stern gaze of the actor- manager. He
thought of pricking Jimmy only at the howling cues, but
then the howl thus produced was so superior to his own,
that if Jimmy chose to claim it, he might be at once engaged
to replace him in the part. What a dilemma !
Poor Davie ! As if it was not enough to be cut off from
all the brilliant spectacle, pent in pitchy gloom and robbed
of all his " fat " and his painfully rehearsed " second edition "
touches. He felt like one of those fallen archangels of the
168 THE SEMI-SENTIMENTAL DRAGON.
footlights who live to bear Ophelia's bier on boards where
they once played Hamlet.
Far different emotions were felt at the Dragon's head,
where Jimmy's joy faded gradually away, replaced by a pas-
sion of indignation, as with love-sharpened eyes he ascer-
tained for himself the true relations of the actor-manager
with his " principal girl." He saw from his coign of vantage
the poor modest little thing shrinking before the cowardly
advances of her employer, who took every possible advantage
of the stage potentialities, in ways the audience could not
discriminate from the acting. Alas ! what could the gentle
little bread-winner do? But Jimmy's blood was boiling.
Davie's great scene arrived : the battle royal between St.
George and the Dragon. Sabra, bewitchingly radiant in
white Arabian silk, stood under the orange-tree where the
pendent fruit was labelled three a penny. Here St. George,
in knightly armour clad, retired between the rounds, to be
sponged by the fair Sabra, from whose lips he took the op-
portunity of drinking encouragement. When the umpire
cried " Time ! " Jimmy uttered inarticulate cries of real rage
and malediction, vomiting his squibs straight at the cham-
pion's eyes with intent to do him grievous bodily injury.
But squibs have their own ways of jumping, and the actor-
manager's face was protected by his glittering burgonet.
At last Jimmy and Davie were duly despatched by St.
George's trusty sword, Ascalon, which passed right between
them and stuck out on the other side amid the frantic ap-
plause of the house. The Dragon reeled cumbrously side-
ways and bit the dust, of which there was plenty. Then
Sabra rushed forward from under the orange-tree and encir-
cled her hero's hauberk with a stage embrace, while St.
George, lifting up his visor, rained kiss after kiss on Sabra's
scarlet face, and the " gods " went hoarse with joy.
THE SEMI-SENTIMENTAL DRAGON. 169
" Oh, sir ! " Jimmy heard the still small voice of the bread-
winner protest feebly again and again amid the thunder, as
she tried to withdraw herself from her employer's grasp.
This was the last straw. Anger and the foul air of his prison
wrought up Jimmy to asphyxiation point. What wonder if
the Dragon lost his head completely?
Uavie will never forget the horror of that moment when
he felt himself dragged upwards as by an irresistible tornado,
and knew himself for a ruined actor. Mechanically he es-
sayed to cling to the ground, but in vain. The dead Dragon
was on its feet in a moment ; in another, Jimmy had thrown
off the mask, showing a shock of hair and a blotched crimson
face, spotted with great beads of perspiration. Unconscious
of this culminating outrage, Davie made desperate prods
with his pin, but Jimmy was equally unconscious of the
pricks. The thunder died abruptly. A dead silence fell
upon the whole house you could have heard Davie's pin
drop. St. George, in amazed consternation, released his
hold of Sabra and cowered back before the wild glare of the
bloodshot eyes. "How dare you?" rang out in hoarse
screaming accents from the protruding head, and with one
terrific blow of its right fore-leg the hybrid monster felled
Sabra's insulter to the ground.
The astonished St. George lay on his back, staring up
vacantly at the flies.
" I'll teach you how to behave to a lady ! " roared the
Dragon.
Then Davie tugged him frantically backwards, but Jimmy
cavorted obstinately in the centre of the stage, which the
actor-manager had taken even in his fall, so that the
Dragon's hind legs trampled blindly on Davie's prostrate
chief, amid the hysterical convulsions of the house.
170 THE SEMI-SENTIMENTAL DRAGON.
Next morning the local papers were loud in their praises
of the " Second Edition " of St. George and the Dragon,
especially of the " genuinely burlesque and topsy-turvy epi-
sode in' which the Dragon rises from the dead to read St.
George a lesson in chivalry ; a really side-splitting concep-
tion, made funnier by the grotesque revelation of the con-
stituents of the Dragon, just before it retires for the night."
The actor-manager had no option but to adopt this read-
ing, so had to be hoofed and publicly reprimanded every
evening during the rest of the season, glad enough to get off
so cheaply.
Of course, Jimmy was dismissed, but St. George was pain-
fully polite to Sabra ever after, not knowing but what Jimmy
was in the gallery with a brickbat, and perhaps not unim-
pressed by the lesson in chivalry he was receiving every
evening.
Perhaps you think the Dragon deserved to marry Sabra,
but that would be really too topsy-turvy, and the sentimental
beast himself was quite satisfied to have rescued her from
St. George.
But the person who profited most by Jimmy's sacrifice
was Davie, who stepped into a real speaking part, emerged
from the obscurity of his surroundings, burst his swaddling
clothes, and made his appearance on the stage a thing he
could scarcely be said to have done in the Dragon's womb.
And so the world wags.
An Honest Log-Roller.
Louis MAUNDERS was writing an anonymous novel, and a
large circle of friends and acquaintances expected it to make
a big hit. Louis Maunders was" so modest that he dis-
trusted his own opinion, and was glad to find his friends
sharing it in this matter. It strengthened him. He carried
the manuscript unostentatiously about in a long brief bag,
while the book was writing, and worked at it during all his
spare moments. Even in omnibuses he was to be seen
scribbling hard with a stylus, and neglecting to attend to
the conductor. The plot of the story was sad and heart-
rending, for Louis was only twenty-one. Louis refused to
give those roseate pictures of life which the conventional
novelist turns out to please the public. He objected to
"happy endings." In real life, he said, no story ends
happily ; for the end of everybody's story is Death. In this
book he said some bitter things about Life which it would
have winced to hear, had it been alive. As for Death, he
doubted whether it was worth dying. Towards Nature he
took a tone of haughty superiority, and expressed himself
disrespectfully on the subject of Fate. He mocked at it
through the lips of his hero, and altogether seemed qualify-
ing for the liver complaint, which is the Prometheus myth
done into modern English. He taught that the only Peace
for man lies in snapping the fingers at Fortune, taking her
buffets and her favours with equal contempt, and generally
teaching her to know her place. The soul of the Philoso-
171
172 AN HONEST LOG-ROLLER.
pher, he said, would stand grinning cynically though the
planetary system were sold off by auction. These lessons
were taught with great tragic power in Maunders' novel, and
he was looking forward to the time when it should be in
print, and on all the carpets of conversation. He was ex-
tremely gratified to find his friends thinking so well of its
prospects, for it was pleasing to him to discover that he had
chosen his circle so well, and had such intelligent friends.
It did not seem to him at all unlikely that he would make
his fortune with this novel ; and he hurried on with it, till
the masterpiece needed only a few final touches and a few
last insults to Fate. Then he left the bag in a hansom cab.
When he remembered his forgetfulness, he was distracted.
He raved like a maniac and like a maniac did not even
write his ravings down for after use. He applied at Scotland
Yard, but the superintendent said that drivers brought there
only articles of value. He sent paragraphs to the papers,
asking even of the Echo where his lost novel was. But
the Echo answered not. Several spiteful papers insinuated
that he was a liar, and a high-class comic paper went out
of its way to make a joke, and to call his book "The
Mystery of a Hansom Cab." The annoying part of the
business was that after getting all this gratuitous advertise-
ment, in itself enough to sell two editions, the book still
refused to come up for publication. Maunders was too
heartbroken to write another. For months he went about,
a changed being. He had put the whole of himself into
that book, and it was lost. He mourned for the departed
manuscript, and generously extolled its virtues. For years
he remained faithful to its memory ; and its pages were
made less dry with his tears. But the most intemperate
grief wears itself out at last ; and after a few years of
melancholy, Maunders rallied and became a critic.
AN HONEST LOG-ROLLER.
173
As a critic he set in with great severity, and by care-
fully refraining from doing anything himself, gained a great
reputation far and wide. In
due course he joined the staff
of the Acadceum, where his
signed contributions came to
be looked for with profound re-
spect by the public and with
fear and trembling by authors.
For Maunders' criticism was so
very superior, even for the
Acadczum, of which the trade
motto was " Stop here for Criti-
cism superior to anything in
the literary market." Maunders
flayed and excoriated
Marsyas till the world
accepted him as Apollo.
What Maunders was
most down upon was
novel-writing. Not
having to follow them
himself, he had high
ideals of art ; and woe
to the unfortunate au-
thor who thought he
had literary and artistic
instinct when he had
only pen and paper.
Maunders was especially severe upon the novels of young
authors, with their affected style and jejune ideas. Perhaps
the most brilliant criticism he ever wrote was a merciless
dissection of a book of this sort, reeking with the insincerity
' \
THE GREAT CRITIC.
174 AN HONEST LOG-ROLLER.
and crudity of youth, full of accumulated ignorance of life,
and brazening it out by flashy cynicism.
A week after this notice appeared, his oldest and dearest
friend called upon him and asked him for an explanation.
"What do you mean? " said Maunders.
" When I read your slashing notice of ' A Fingersnap for
Fate,' I at once got the book."
"What! After I had disembowelled it; after I had
shown it was a stale sausage stuffed with old and putrid
ideas?"
"Well, to tell the truth," said his friend, a little crest-
fallen at having to confess, " I always get the books you
pitch into. So do lots of people. We are only plain,
ordinary, homespun people, you know; so we feel sure
that whatever you praise will be too superior for us, while
what you condemn will suit us to a /. That is why the
great public studies and respects your criticisms. You are
our literary pastor and monitor. Your condemnation is
our guide-post, and your praise is our Index Expurgatorius.
But for you we should be lost in the wilderness of new
books."
" And this is all the result of my years of laborious criti-
cism," fumed the Acadceum critic. " Proceed, sir."
" Well, what I came to say was, that if my memory does
not play me a trick after all these years, * A Fingersnap for
Fate ' is your long-lost novel."
" What ! " shrieked the great critic ; " my long-lost child !
Impossible."
" Yes," persisted his oldest and dearest friend. " I recog-
nised it by the strawberry mark in Cap. II., where the hero
compares the younger generation to fresh strawberries
smothered in stale cream. I remember your reading it to
me!"
AN HONEST LOG-ROLLER. 175
"Heavens! The whole thing comes back to me," cried
the critic. " Now I know why I damned it so unmercifully
for plagiarism ! All the while I was reading it, there was a
strange, haunting sense of familiarity."
" But, surely you will expose the thief ! "
" How can I ? It would mean confessing that I wrote
the book myself. That I slated it savagely, is nothing.
That will pass as a good joke, if not a piece of rare modesty.
But confess myself the author of such a wretched failure ! "
" Excuse me," said his friend. " It is not a failure. It
is a very popular success. It is selling like wildfire.
Excuse the inaccurate simile ; but you know what I mean.
Your notice has sent the sale up tremendously. Ever
since your notice appeared, the printing presses have been
going day and night and are utterly unable to cope with
the demand. Oh, you must not let a rogue make a fortune
out of you like this. That would be too sinful."
So the great critic sought out the thief. And they di-
vided the profits. And then the thief, who was a fool as well
as a rogue, wrote another book all out of his own head
this time. And the critic slated it. And they divided the
profits.
A Tragi-Comedy of Creeds.
NOT much before midnight in a midland town a thriv-
ing commercial town, whose dingy back streets swarmed
with poverty and piety a man in a soft felt hat and a
white tie was hurrying home over a bridge that spanned
a dark crowded river. He had missed the tram, and did
not care to be seen out late, but he could not afford a cab.
Suddenly he felt a tug at his long black coat-tail. Vaguely
alarmed and definitely annoyed, he turned round quickly.
A breathless, roughly-clad, rugged-featured man loosed his
hold of the skirt.
"'Scuse me, sir I've been running," gasped the stranger,
placing his horny hand on his breast and panting.
"What is it? What do you want?" said the gentleman
impatiently.
" My wife's dying," jerked the man.
" I'm very sorry," murmured the gentleman incredulously,
expecting some conventional street-plea.
" Awful sudden attack this last of hers only came on
an hour ago."
" I'm not a doctor."
" No, sir, I know. I don't want a doctor. He's there
and only gives her ten minutes to live. Come with me at
once, please."
" Come with you? Why, what good can I do? "
" You're a clergyman ! "
" A clergyman ! " repeated the other.
176
A TRAGI-COMEDY OF CREEDS. 177
" Yes aren't you? "
The wearer of the white tie looked embarrassed.
"Ye-es," he stammered. "In a in a way. But I'm
not the sort of clergyman your wife will be wanting."
"No?" said the man, puzzled and pained. Then with
a sudden dread in his voice : " You're not a Catholic
clergyman ? "
" No," was the unhesitating reply.
" Oh, then it's all right ! " cried the man, relieved.
" Come with me, sir, for God's sake. Don't let us waste
time." His face was lit up with anxious appeal.
But still the clergyman hesitated.
" You're making a mistake," he murmured. " I am not
a Christian clergyman." He turned to resume his walk.
" Not a Christian clergyman ! " exclaimed the man, as
who should say " not a black negro ! "
" No I am a Jewish minister."
" That don't matter," broke in the man, almost before he
could finish the sentence. " As long as you're not a Catho-
lic. Oh, don't go away now, sir ! " His voice broke
piteously. " Don't go away after I've been chasing you for
five minutes I saw your rig-out I beg pardon, your
coat and hat in the distance just as I came out of the
house. Walk back with me, anyhow," he pleaded, seeing
the Jew's hesitation, " Oh ! for pity's sake, walk back with
me at once and we can discuss it as we go along. I know
I should never get hold of another parson in time at this
hour of the night."
The man's accents were so poignant, his anxiety was so
apparently sincere, that the minister's humanity could
scarcely resist the solicitation to walk back at least. He
would still have time to decide whether to enter the house
or not whether the case were genuine or a mere trap
178 A TRAGI-COMEDY OF CREEDS.
concealing robbery or worse. The man took a short cut
through evil-looking slums that did not increase the minis-
ter's confidence. He wondered what his flock would think
if they saw their pastor in such company. He was a young
unmarried minister, and the reputation of such in provincial
Jewish congregations, overflowing with religion and tittle-
tattle, is as a pretty unprotected orphan girl's.
" Why don't you go to your own clergyman ? " he asked.
" I've got none," said the man half-apologetically. " I
don't believe in nothing myself. But you know what women
are!"
The minister sniffed, but did not deny the weakness of
the sex.
" Betsy goes to some place or other every Sunday almost ;
sometimes she's there and back from a service before I'm
up, and so long as the breakfast's ready I don't mind. I
don't ask her no questions, and in return she don't bother
about my soul leastways, not for these ten years, ever
since she's had kids to convert. We get along all right, the
missus and me and the kids. Oh, but it's all come to an
end now," he concluded, with a sob.
" Yes, but my good fellow," protested the minister, " I
told you you were making a mistake. You know nothing
about religion ; but what your wife wants is some one to
talk to her of Jesus, or to give her the Sacrament, or the
Confession, or something, for I confess I'm not very clear
about the forms of Christianity ; and I haven't got any wafers
or things of that sort. No, I couldn't do it, even if I had
a mind to. It would ruin my position if it were known.
But apart from that, I really can't do it. I wouldn't know
what to say, and I couldn't bring my tongue to say it if I did."
"Oh, but you believe in something?" persisted the man
piteously.
A TRAGICOMEDY OF CREEDS. 179
" H'm ! Yes, I can't deny that," said the minister ; "but
it's not the same something that your wife believes in. "
" You believe in a God, don't you? "
The minister felt a bit chagrined at being catechised in
the elements of his religion.
" Of course ! " he said fretfully.
" There ! I knew it," cried the man in triumph. " None
of us do in our shop ; but, of course, clergymen are different.
But if you believe in a God, that's enough, ain't it? You're
both religious folk."
" No, it isn't enough at least, not for your wife."
" Oh, well, you needn't let out, sir, need you ? So long
as you talk of God and keep clear of the Pope. I've heard
her going on about a Scarlet Woman to the kids. (God
bless their little hearts ! I wonder what they'll do without
her !) She'll never know, sir, and she'll die happy. I've
done my duty. She whispered I wasn't to bring a Roman
Catholic, poor thing. I fancy I heard her say once they're
even worse than Jews. Oh, I don't mean that, sir. You're
sure you're not a Roman Catholic? " he concluded anxiously.
" Quite sure."
" Well, sir, you'll keep the rest dark, won't you? There's
no call to let out you don't believe the same other things as
her."
" I shall tell no lie," said the minister firmly. " You have
called me in to give consolation to your dying wife, and I
shall do my duty as best I can. Is this the house? "
" Yes, sir right at the top."
The minister conquered a last impulse of mistrust, and
looked round cautiously to be sure he was unobserved.
Charity was not a strong point with his flock, and certainly
his proceedings were suspicious. Even if they learnt the
truth, he was not at all sure they would not consider his
180 A TRAGI-COMEDY OF CREEDS.
praying with a dying Christian akin to blasphemy. On the
whole he must be credited with some courage in mounting
that black, ill-smelling, interminable staircase. He found
himself in a gloomy garret at last, lighted by an oil-lamp.
A haggard woman lay with shut eyes on an iron bed, her
chilling hands clasping the hands of the " converted " kids,
a boy of ten and a girl of seven, who stood blubbering in
their night-attire. The doctor leaned against the head of
the bed, the ungainly shadows of the group sprawling across
the blank wall. He had done all he could without hope
of payment to ease the poor woman's last moments. He
was a big-brained, large-hearted Irishman, a Roman Catholic,
who thought science and religion might be the best of friends.
The husband looked at him in frantic interrogation.
" You are not too late," replied the doctor.
" Thank God ! " said the atheist. " Betsy, old girl, here
is the clergyman."
The cloud seemed to pass off the blind face, and a wave
of wan sunlight to traverse it ; slowly the eyes opened, the
hands withdrew themselves from the children's grasp, and
the palms met for prayer.
" Christ Jesus " began the lips mechanically.
The minister was hot with confusion and a-quiver with
emotion. He knew not what to say, as automatically he
drew out a Hebrew prayer-book from his pocket and began
reading the Deathbed Confession in the English version
that appeared on the alternate pages.
" I acknowledge unto Thee, O Lord, my God, and the
God of my fathers, that both my cure and my death are in
Thy hands ..." As he read, the dying lips moved,
mumbling the words after him. How often had those white
lips prayed that the stiff-necked Jews might find grace and
be saved from damnation ; how often had those poor, rough
A TRAGI-COMEDY OF CREEDS. 181
hands put pennies into conversionist collecting-boxes after
toiling hard to scrape them together ; so that only she might
suffer by their diversion from the household treasury.
The prayer went on, the mournful monotone thrilling
through the hot, dim, oil-reeking attic, and awing the weep-
ing children into silence. The atheist stood by reverently,
torn by conflicting emotions ; glad the poor foolish creature
had her wish, and on thorns lest she should live long enough
to discover the deception. There was no room in his over-
charged heart for personal grief just then. " Make known
to me the path of life ; in Thy presence is fulness of joy ; at
Thy right hand are pleasures for evermore." An ecstatic
look overspread the plain, careworn face, she stretched out
her arms as if to embrace some unseen vision.
"Yes, I am coming . . . Jesus," she murmured. Then
her hands dropped heavily upon her breast ; the face grew
rigid, the eyes closed. Involuntarily the minister seized
the hand nearest him. He felt it respond faintly to
his clasp in unconsciousness of the pagan pollution of his
touch. He read on, "Thou who art the Father of the
fatherless and the Judge of the widow, protect my beloved
kindred with whose soul my own is knit."
The lips still echoed him almost imperceptibly, the de-
parting spirit lulled into peace by the prayer of the un-
believer. " Into Thy hand I commend my spirit. Thou
hast redeemed me, O Lord God of truth. Amen and Amen."
And in that last Amen, with a final gleam of blessedness
flitting across her sightless face, the poor Christian toiler
breathed out her life of pain, holding the Jew's hand.
There was a moment of solemn silence, the three men be-
coming as the little children in the presence of the eternal
mystery.
182 A TRAGI-COMEDY OF CREEDS.
It leaked out, as everything did in that gossipy town,
and among that gossipy Jewish congregation. To the min-
ister's relief, his flock took it better than he expected.
" What a blessed privilege for that heathen female ! "
was all their comment.
The Memory Clearing House.
WHEN I moved into better quarters on the strength of the
success of my first novel, I little dreamt that I was about
to be the innocent instrument of a new epoch in telepathy.
My poor Geraldine but I must be calm ; it would be
madness to let them suspect I am insane. No, these last
words must be final. I cannot afford to have them dis-
credited. I cannot afford any luxuries now.
Would to Heaven I had never written that first novel !
Then I might still have been a poor, unhappy, struggling,
realistic novelist; I might still have been residing at 109,
Little Tnrncot Street, Chapelby Road, St. Pancras. But I
do not blame Providence. I knew the book was conven-
tional even before it succeeded. My only consolation is
that Geraldine was part-author of my misfortunes, if not of
my novel. She it was who urged me to abandon my high
ideals, to marry her, and live happily ever afterwards. She
said if I wrote only one bad book it would be enough to
establish my reputation ; that I could then command my
own terms for the good ones. I fell in with her proposal,
the banns were published, and we were bound together. I
wrote a rose-tinted romance, which no circulating library
could be without, instead of the veracious picture of life I
longed to paint; and I moved from 109, Little Turncot
Street, Chapelby Road, St. Pancras, to 22, Albert Flats,
Victoria Square, Westminster.
A few days after we had sent out the cards, I met my
183
184 THE MEMORY CLEARING HOUSE.
friend O'Donovan, late member for Blackthorn. He was
an Irishman by birth and profession, but the recent General
Election had thrown him out of work. The promise of his
boyhood and of his successful career at Trinity College was
great, but in later years he began to manifest grave symptoms
of genius. I have heard whispers that it was in the family,
though he kept it from his wife. Possibly I ought not to
"URGED ME TO ABANDON MY HIGH IDEALS."
have sent him a card and have taken the opportunity of
dropping his acquaintance. But Geraldine argued that he
was not dangerous, and that we ought to be kind to him
just after he had come out of Parliament.
O'Donovan was in a rage.
" I never thought it of you ! " he said angrily, when I
asked him how he was. He had a good Irish accent, but
he only used it when addressing his constituents.
THE MEMORY CLEARING HOUSE. 185
" Never thought what? " I enquired in amazement.
" That you would treat your friends so shabbily."
"Wh-what, didn't yoii g-get a card?" I stammered.
" I'm sure the wife "
" Don't be a fool ! " he
interrupted. " Of course I
got a card. That's what I
complain of."
I stared at him blankly.
The social experiences re-
sulting from my marriage
had convinced me that it
was impossible to avoid giv-
ing offence. I had no rea-
son to be surprised, but I
was.
"What right have you
to move and put all your
friends to trouble? " he en-
quired savagely.
" I have put myself to
trouble," I said, " but I fail
to see how I have taxed
your friendship."
" No, of course not," he
growled. " I didn't expect
you to see. You're just as
inconsiderate as everybody ,, 0>DONOVAN WAS IN A ^^
else. Don't you think I
had enough trouble to commit to memory ' 109, Little
Turncot Street, Chapelby Road, St. Pancras,' without being
unexpectedly set to study '21, Victoria Flats ? ' "
" 22, Albert Flats," I interrupted mildly-
186
THE MEMORY CLEARING HOUSE.
" There you are ! " he snarled.
"You see already how it har-
asses my poor brain. I shall
never remember it."
" Oh yes, you will," I said de-
precatingly. " It is much easier
than the old address. Listen
here ! ' 2 2, Albert Flats, Victoria
Square, Westminster.' 22 a
symmetrical number, the first
double even number; the first
is two, the second is two, too,
and the whole is two, two, too
quite aesthetical, you know. Then
all the rest is royal Albert,
Albert the Good, see. Victoria
the Queen. Westminster
Westminster Palace. And the
other words geometrical terms, Flat, Square. Why, there
never was such an easy address since the days of Adam
before he moved out of Eden," I concluded enthusiastically.
" It's easy enough for you, no doubt," he said, unappeased.
" But do you think you're the only acquaintance who's not
contented with his street and number ? Bless my soul, with
a large circle like mine, I find myself charged with a new
schoolboy task twice a month. I shall have to migrate to
a village where people have more stability of character.
Heavens ! Why have snails been privileged with a domicili-
ary constancy denied to human beings?"
"But you ought to be grateful," I urged feebly. "Think
of 22, Albert Flats, Victoria Square, Westminster, and then
think of what I might have moved to. If I have given you
an imposition, at least admit it is a light one."
'THERE NEVER WAS SUCH AN
EASY ADDRESS.'"
THE MEMORY CLEARING HOUSE. 187
" It isn't so much the new address I complain of, it's
the old. Just imagine what a weary grind it has been to
mas ter '109, Little Turncot Street, Chapelby Road, St.
Pancras.' For the last eighteen months I have been grap-
pling with it, and now, just as I am letter perfect and post-
card secure, behold all my labour destroyed, all my pains
made ridiculous. It's the waste that vexes me. Here is
a piece of information, slowly and laboriously acquired, yet
absolutely useless. Nay, worse than useless; a positive
hindrance. For I am just as slow at forgetting as at picking
up. Whenever I want to think of your address, up it will
spring, ' 109, Little Turncot Street, Chapelby Road, St.
Pancras.' It cannot be scotched it must lie there block-
ing up my brains, a heavy, uncouth mass, always ready to
spring at the wrong moment ; a possession of no value to
anyone but the owner, and not the least use to him"
He paused, brooding on the thought in moody silence.
Suddenly his face changed.
"But isn't it of value to anybody but the owner?" he
exclaimed excitedly. " Are there not persons in the world
who would jump at the chance of acquiring it ? Don't stare
at me as if I was a comet. Look here ! Suppose some one
had come to me eighteen months ago and said, ' Patrick, old
man, I have a memory I don't want. It's 109, Little Turn-
cot Street, Chapelby Road, St. Pancras ! You're welcome
to it, if it's any use to you.' Don't you think I would have
fallen on that man's or woman's neck, and watered it
with my tears? Just think what a saving of brain-force it
would have been to me how many petty vexations it would
have spared me ! See here, then ! Is your last place let ? "
" Yes," I said. " A Mr. Marrow has it now."
" Ha ! " he said, with satisfaction. " Now there must be
lots of Mr. Marrow's friends in the same predicament as I
188
THE MEMORY CLEARING HOUSE.
was people whose brains are softening in the effort to
accommodate ' 109, Little Turncot Street, Chapelby Road,
St. Pancras.' Psychical science has made such great strides
in this age that with a little ingenuity it should surely not be
impossible to transfer the memory of it from my brain to
theirs."
" But," I gasped, " even if it was possible, why should you
give away what you don't want? That would be charity."
"PEOPLE WHOSE BRAINS ARE
SOFTENING.'"
"You do not suspect me of that?" he cried reproach-
fully. " No, my ideas are not so primitive. For don't you
see that there is a memory /want '33, Royal Flats '"
" 22, Albert Flats," I murmured shamefacedly.
"22, Albert Flats," he repeated witheringly. "You see
how badly I want it. Well, what I propose is to exchange
my memory of ' 109, Little Turncot Street, Chapelby Road,
St. Pancras ' " (he always rolled it slowly on his tongue with
THE MEMORY CLEARING HOUSE.
189
morbid self-torture and almost intolerable reproachfulness),
" for the memory of ' 22, Albert Square.' "
" But you forget," I said, though I lacked the courage to
correct him again, "that the people who want ' 109, Little
Turncot Street,' are not the people who possess ' 22, Albert
Flats.' "
" Precisely ; the principle of direct exchange is not feas-
ible. What is wanted,
therefore, is a Memory
Clearing House. If I
can only discover the
process of thought-trans-
ference, I will establish
one, so as to bring the
right parties into com-
munication. Everybody
who has old memories
to dispose of will send
me in particulars. At
the end of each week I
will publish a catalogue
of the memories in the
market, and circulate it
among my subscribers,
who will pay, say, a
guinea a year. When
the subscriber reads his catalogue and lights upon any
memory he would like to have, he will send me a postcard,
and I will then bring him into communication with the pro-
prietor, taking, of course, a commission upon the transac-
tion. Doubtless, in time, there will be a supplementary
catalogue devoted to ' Wants,' which may induce people to
scour their brains for half-forgotten reminiscences, or per-
'THE SUBSCRIBER READS HIS
CATALOGUE.' "
190
THE MEMORY CLEARING HOUSE.
suade them to give up memories they would never have
parted with otherwise. Well, my boy, what do you think
of it?"
" It opens up endless perspectives," I said, half-dazed.
" It will be the greatest invention ever known ! " he cried,
inflaming himself more and more. " It will change human
life, it will make a new
epoch, it will effect a
greater economy of hu-
man force than all the
machines under the sun.
Think of the saving of
nerve-tissue, think of the
prevention of brain-irrita-
tion. Why, we shall all
live longer through it
centenarians will become
as cheap as American mil-
lionaires."
Live longer through it !
Alas, the mockery of the
recollection ! He left me,
his face working wildly.
For days the vision of it
interrupted my own work.
At last, I could bear the
suspense no more and went to his house. I found him in
ecstasies and his wife in tears. She was beginning to sus-
pect the family skeleton.
" Eureka ! " he was shouting. " Eureka ! "
"What is the matter?" sobbed the poor woman. "Why
don't you speak English ? He has been going on like this
for the last five minutes," she added, turning pitifully to me.
;
WHAT IS THE MATTER?"
THE MEMORY CLEARING HOUSE. 191
" Eureka ! " shouted O'Donovan. " I must say it. No
new invention is complete without it."
" Bah ! I didn't think you were so conventional," I said
contemptuously. " I suppose you have found out how to
make the memory-transferring machine?"
" I have," he cried exultantly. " I shall christen it the
noemagraph, or thought-writer. The impression is received
on a sensitised plate which acts as a medium between the
two minds. The brow of the purchaser is pressed against the
plate, through which a current of electricity is then passed."
He rambled on about volts and dynamic psychometry
and other hard words, which, though they break no bones,
should be strictly confined in private dictionaries.
" I am awfully glad you came in," he said, resuming his
mother tongue at last "because if you won't charge me
anything I will try the first experiment on you."
I consented reluctantly, and in two minutes he rushed
about the room triumphantly shouting, " 22, Albert Flats,
Victoria Square, Westminster," till he was hoarse. But
for his enthusiasm I should have suspected he had crammed
up my address on the sly.
He started the Clearing House forthwith. It began
humbly as an attic in the Strand. The first number of the
catalogue was naturally meagre. He was good enough to
put me on the free list, and I watched with interest the
development of the enterprise. He had canvassed his
acquaintances for subscribers, and begged everybody he
met to send him particulars of their cast-off memories.
When he could afford to advertise a little, his clientele in-
creased. There is always a public for anything bizarre, and
a percentage of the population would send thirteen stamps
for the Philosopher's Stone, post free. Of course, the rest
of the population smiled at him for an ingenious quack.
192 THE MEMORY CLEARING HOUSE.
The " Memories on Sale " catalogue grew thicker and
thicker. The edition issued to the subscribers contained
merely the items, but O'Donovan's copy comprised also the
names and addresses of the vendors, and now and again
he allowed me to have a peep at it in strict confidence.
The inventor himself had not foreseen the extraordinary
uses to which his noemagraph would be put, nor the ex-
traordinary developments of his business. Here are some
specimens culled at random from No. 13 of the Clearing
House catalogue when O'Donovan still limited himself to
facilitating the sale of superfluous memories :
I. 25, Portsdown Avenue, MaiJa. Vale.
3. 13502, 17208 (banknote numbers).
12. History of England (a few Saxon kings missing), as successful in
a recent examination by the College of Preceptors. Adapted to
the requirements of candidates for the Oxford and Cambridge
Local and the London Matriculation.
17. Paley's Evidences, together with a job lot of dogmatic theology
(second-hand), a valuable collection by a clergyman recently
ordained, who has no further use for them.
26. A dozen whist wrinkles, as used by a retiring speculator. Exces-
sively cheap.
29. Mathematical formulae (complete sets; all the latest novelties and
improvements, including those for the higher plane curves, and
a selection of the most useful logarithms), the property of a
dying Senior Wrangler. Applications must be immediate, and
no payment need be made to the heirs till the will has been
proved.
35. Arguments in favour of Home Rule (warranted sound) ; propri-
etor, distinguished Gladstonian M.P., has made up his mind to
part with them at a sacrifice. Eminently suitable for bye-
elections. Principals only.
58. Witty wedding speech, as delivered amid great applause by a
bridegroom. Also an assortment of toasts, jocose and serious,
in good condition. Reduction on taking a quantity.
THE MEMORY CLEARING HOUSE.
193
Politicians, clergymen, and ex-examinees soon became
the chief customers. Graduates in arts and science hastened
to discumber their memories of the useless load of learning
which had outstayed its function of getting them on in the
world. Thus not only did they make some extra money, but
memories which would
otherwise have rapidly
faded were turned over
to new minds to play a
similarly beneficent part
in aiding the careers of
the owners. The fine
image of Lucretius was
realised, and the torch of
learning was handed on
from generation to gen-
eration. Had O'Dono-
van's business been as
widely known as it de-
served, the curse of cram
would have gone to roost
for ever, and a finer phys-
ical race of Englishmen
would have been pro-
duced. In the hands of
honest students the in-
vention might have pro-
duced intellectual giants, for each scholar could have started
where his predecessor left off, and added more to his wealth
of lore, the moderns standing upon the shoulders of the
ancients in a more literal sense than Bacon dreamed. The
memory of Macaulay, which all Englishmen rightly rever-
ence, might have been possessed by his schoolboy. As it
'A CLERGYMAN RECENTLY ORDAINED.'
194
THE MEMORY CLEARING HOUSE.
was, omniscient idiots abounded, left colossally wise by their
fathers, whose painfully acquired memories they inherited
without the intelligence to utilise
them.
O'Donovan's Parliamentary connec-
tion was a large one, doubtless merely
because of his former position and his
consequent contact with political cir-
cles. Promises to constituents were
always at a discount, the supply being
immensely in excess of the demand ;
indeed, promises generally were a
drug in the market.
Instead of issuing the projected
supplemental catalogue of " Memo-
ries Wanted," O'Donovan by this time
saw his way to buying them up on
spec. He was not satisfied with his
commission. He had learnt by ex-
_ __ perience the kinds that went best, such
/Y \ I as exam, answers, but he resolved to
*"> ' have all sorts and be remembered as
the Whiteley of Memory. Thus the
Clearing House very soon developed
THE OMNISCIENT into a storehouse. O'Donovan's ad-
IDIOT. vertisement ran thus :
WANTED! Wanted! Wanted! Memories! Memories! Best
Prices in the Trade. Happy, Sad, Bitter, Sweet (as Used by
Minor Poets). High Prices for Absolutely Pure Memories. Memories,
Historical, Scientific, Pious, &c. Good Memories ! Special Terms to
Liars. Precious Memories (Exeter Hall-marked). New Memories
for Old ! Lost Memories Recovered while you wait. Old Memories
Turned equal to New.
THE MEMORY CLEARING HOUSE.
195
O'Donovan soon sported his brougham. Any day you
went into the store (which now occupied the whole of the
premises in the Strand) you could see endless traffic going
"THEY OFTEN BROUGHT SOLICITORS WITH THEM."
on. I often loved to watch it. People who were tired of
themselves came here to get a complete new outfit of mem-
ories, and thus change their identities. Plaintiffs, defendants,
and witnesses came to be fitted with memories that would
stand the test of the oath, and they often brought solicitors
196 THE MEMORY CLEARING HOUSE.
with them to advise them in selecting from the stock. Coun-
sel's opinion on these points was regarded as especially val-
uable. Statements that would wash and stand rough pulling
about were much sought after. Gentlemen and ladies writing
reminiscences and autobiographies were to be met with at
all hours, and nothing was more pathetic than to see the
humble artisan investing his hard-earned " tanner " in recol-
lections of a seaside holiday.
In the buying-up department trade was equally brisk, and
people who were hard-up were often forced to part with
their tenderest recollections. Memories of dead loves went
at five shillings a dozen, and all those moments which people
had vowed never to forget were sold at starvation prices.
The memories " indelibly engraven " on hearts were invari-
ably faded and only sold as damaged. The salvage from the
most ardent fires of affection rarely paid the porterage. As
a rule, the dearest memories were the cheapest. Of the
memory of favours there was always a glut, and often heaps
of diseased memories had to be swept away at the instigation
of the sanitary inspector. Memories of wrongs done, being
rarely parted with except when their owners were at their
last gasp, fetched fancy prices. Mourners' memories ruled
especially lively. In the Memory Exchange, too, there was
always a crowd, the temptation to barter worn-out memories
for new proving irresistible.
One day O'Donovan came to me, crying "Eureka!"
once more.
" Shut up ! " I said, annoyed by the idiotic Hellenicism.
" Shut up ! Why, I shall open ten more shops. I have
discovered the art of duplicating, triplicating, polyplicating
memories. I used only to be able to get one impression
out of the sensitised plate, now I can get any number."
" Be careful ! " I said. " This may ruin you."
THE MEMORY CLEARING HOUSE.
197
" How so ? " he asked scornfully.
" Why, just see suppose you supply two candidates for
a science degree with the same chemical reminiscences, you
lay them under a suspicion of copying; two after-dinner
speakers may find themselves recollecting the same joke ;
several autobiographers may remember their making the
same remark to Gladstone. Unless your customers can
"WHEN THEIR OWNERS WERE AT THEIR LAST GASP."
be certain they have the exclusive right in other people's
memories, they will fall away."
" Perhaps you are right," he said. " I must ' Eureka '
something else." His Greek was as defective as if he had
had a classical education.
What he found was " The Hire System." Some people
who might otherwise have been good customers objected
to losing their memories entirely. They were willing to
part with them for a period. For instance, when a man
198
THE MEMORY CLEARING HOUSE.
came up to town or took a run to Paris, he did not mind
dispensing with some of his domestic recollections, just for
a change. People who knew better than to forget them-
selves entirely profited by the opportunity of acquiring the
funds for a holiday, merely by leaving some of their memo-
ries behind them. There were always others ready to hire
for a season the discarded bits of personality, and thus re-
morse was done away with, and double lives became a lux-
! ^5 ^*-^. f=i
\
TWO AFTER-DINNER SPEAKERS RECOLLECTING THE SAME JOKE.
ury within the reach of the multitude. To the very poor,
Q'Donovan's new development proved an invaluable aux-
iliary to the pawn-shop. On Monday mornings, the pave-
ment outside was congested with wretched-looking women
anxious to pawn again the precious memories they had
taken out with Saturday's wages. Under this hire system
it became possible to pledge the memories of the absent
for wine instead of in it. But the most gratifying result
was its enabling pious relatives to redeem the memories
THE MEMORY CLEARING HOUSE.
199
of the dead, on payment of the legal interest. It was great fun
to watch O'Donovan strutting about the rooms of his newest
branch, swelling with pride like a combination cock and
John Bull.
WRETCHED-LOOKING WOMEN PAWNING THEIR MEMORIES.
The experiences he gained here afforded him the .material
for a final development, but, to be strictly chronological, I
ought first to mention the newspaper into which the cata-
logue evolved. It was called In Memoriam, and was pub-
lished at a penny, and gave a prize of a thousand pounds
to any reader who lost his memory on the railway, and who
200 THE MEMORY CLEARING HOUSE.
applied for the reward in person. In Memoriam dealt with
everything relating to memory, though, dishonestly enough,
the articles were all original. So were the advertisements,
which were required to have reference to the objects of the
Clearing House e.g. t
A PHILANTHROPIC GENTLEMAN of good address, who has
travelled a great deal, wishes to offer his addresses to impecunious
young ladies (orphans preferred). Only those genuinely desirous of
changing their residences, and with weak memories, need apply.
And now for the final and fatal "Eureka.'" The anxiety
of some persons to hire out their memories for a period led
O'Donovan to see that it was absurd for him to pay for the
use of them. The owners were only too glad to dodge
remorse. He hit on the sublime idea that they ought to
pay him. The result was the following advertisement in In
Memoriam and its contemporaries :
AMNESIA AGENCY ! O'Donovan's Anodyne. Cheap Forgetful-
ness Complete or Partial. Easy Amnesia Temporary or Per-
manent. Haunting Memories Laid! Consciences Cleared. Cares
carefully Removed without Gas or Pain. The London address of
Lethe is 1001, Strand. Don't forget it.
Quite a new class of customers rushed to avail themselves
of the new pathological institution. What attracted them
was having to pay. Hitherto they wouldn't have gone if
you paid them, as O'Donovan used to do. Widows and
widowers presented themselves in shoals for treatment, with
the result that marriages took place even within the year of
mourning a thing which obviously could not be done
under any other system. I wonder whether Geraldine
but let me finish now !
How well I remember that bright summer's morning
when, wooed without by the liberal sunshine, and disgusted
THE MEMORY CLEARING HOUSE. 201
with the progress I was making with my new study in realistic
fiction, I threw down my pen, strolled down the Strand, and
turned into the Clearing House. I passed through the
selling department, catching a babel of cries from the
counter-jumpers " Two gross anecdotes? Yes, sir; this
way, sir. Half-dozen proposals ; it'll be cheaper if you take
a dozen, miss. Can I do anything more for you, mum?
Just let me show you a sample of our innocent recollections.
TWO GROSS ANECDOTES?'"
The Duchess of Bayswater has just taken some. Anything
in the musical line this morning, signor? We have some
lovely new recollections just in from impecunious composers.
Won't you take a score? Good morning, Mr. Clement
Archer. We have the very thing for you a memory of
Macready playing Wolsey, quite clear and in excellent pres-
ervation ; the only one in the market. Oh, no, mum ; we
have already allowed for these memories being slightly
soiled. Jones, this lady complains the memories we sent
her were short."
202 THE MEMORY CLEARING HOUSE.
O'Donovan was not to be seen. I passed through the
Buying Department, where the employees were beating
down the prices of " kind remembrances," and through the
Hire Department, where the clerks were turning up their
noses at the old memories that had been pledged so often,
into the Amnesia Agency. There I found the great organiser
peering curiously at a sensitised plate.
" Oh," he said, " is that you? Here's a curiosity."
"What is it?" I asked.
"The memory of a murder. The patient paid well to
have it off his mind, but I am afraid I shall miss the usual
second profit, for who will buy it again? "
" I will ! " I cried, with a sudden inspiration. " Oh ! what
a fool I have been. I should have been your best customer.
I ought to have bought up all sorts of memories, and written
the most veracious novel the world has seen. I haven't got
a murder in my new book, but I'll work one in at once.
1 Eureka /' "
"Stash that !" he said revengefully. "You can have the
memory with pleasure. I couldn't think of charging an old
friend like you, whose moving from an address, which I've
sold, to 22, Albert Flats, Victoria Square, Westminster, made
my fortune."
That was how I came to write the only true murder ever
written. It appears that the seller, a poor labourer, had
murdered a friend in Epping Forest, just to rob him of half-
a-crown, and calmly hid him under some tangled brushwood.
A few months afterwards, having unexpectedly come into a
fortune, he thought it well to break entirely with his past,
and so had the memory extracted at the Agency. This, of
course, I did not mention, but I described the murder and
the subsequent feelings of the assassin, and launched the
book on the world with a feeling of exultant expectation.
THE MEMORY CLEARING HOUSE.
203
Alas ! it was damned universally for its tameness and
the improbability of its murder scenes. The critics, to a
man, claimed to be authorities on the sensations of mur-
derers, and the reading public, aghast, said I was flying in
the face of Dickens. They said the man would have taken
daily excursions to the
corpse, and have been
forced to invest in a season
ticket to Epping Forest;
they said he would have
started if his own shadow
crossed his path, not calmly
have gone on drinking beer
like an innocent babe at
its mother's breast. I de-
termined to have the laugh
of them. Stung to mad-
ness, I wrote to the papers
asserting the truth of my
murder, and giving the ex-
act date and the place of
burial. The next day a de-
tective found the body, and
I was arrested. I asked
the police to send for
O'Donovan, and gave them
the address of the Amnesia Agency, but O'Donovan denied
the existence of such an institution, and said he got his
living as secretary of the Shamrock Society.
I raved and cursed him then now it occurs to me that
he had perhaps submitted himself (and everybody else) to
amnesiastic treatment. The jury recommended me to
mercy on the ground that to commit a murder for the
204 THE MEMORY CLEARING HOUSE.
artistic purpose of describing the sensations bordered on
insanity ; but even this false plea has not saved ray life.
It may. A petition has been circulated by Mudie's, and
even at the eighth hour my reprieve may come. Yet, if the
third volume of my life be closed to-morrow, I pray that
these, my last words, may be published in an edition de luxe,
and such of the profits as the publisher can spare be given
to Geraldine.
If I am reprieved, I will never buy another murderer's
memory, not for all the artistic ideals in the world, I'll be
hanged if I do.
Mated by a Waiter.
CHAPTER I.
BLACK AND WHITE.
JONES ! I mention him here because he is the first and
last word of the story. It is the story of what might be
called a game of chess between me and him ; for I never
made a move, but he made a counter-move. You must re-
member though that he played, so to speak, blindfold, while
I started the game, not with the view of mating him, but
merely for the fun of playing.
There was to be a Review of the Fleet, and the inhabitants
of Ryde rejoiced, as befitted sons of the sea. Although
many of them would be reduced to living in their cellars,
like their own black-beetles, so that they might harbour the
patriotic immigrant, they sacrificed themselves ungrudgingly.
No, it was not the natives who grumbled.
My friends, Jack Woolwich and Merton Towers, being in
the Civil Service, naturally desired to pay a compliment to
the less civil department of State, and picked their month's
holiday so as to include the Review. They took care to
let the Review come out at the posterior extremity of the
holiday, so as to find them quite well and in the enjoyment
of excellent quarters at economical rates. They selected
a comfortable but unfashionable hotel, at moderate but
205
206 MATED BY A WAITER.
uninclusive terms, and joyously stretched their free limbs
unswaddled by red-tape. Soon London became a forgotten
nightmare.
They wrote to me irregularly, tantalising me unwittingly
with glimpses of buoyant wave and sunny pasture. It
fretted me to be immured in the stone-prison of the metrop-
olis, and my friends' letters did but sprinkle sea-salt on my
wounds ; for I was working up a medical practice in the
northern district, and my absence might prove fatal not
so much, perhaps, to my patients as to my prospects. I
was beginning to be recognised as a specialist in throats
and eyes, and I invariably sent my clients' ears to my old
hospital chum, Robins, which increased the respect of the
neighbourhood for my professional powers. Your general
practitioner is a suspiciously omniscient person, and it is
far sager to know less and to charge more.
" My dear Ted," wrote the Woolwich Infant (of course
we could not escape calling Jack Woolwich thus), "I do
wish we had you here. Such larks ! We've got the most
comical cuss of a waiter you ever saw. I feel sure he would
appeal irresistibly to your sense of humour. He seems to
boss the whole establishment. His name is Jones; and
when you have known him a day you feel that he is the
only Jones the only Jones possible. He is a middle-aged
man, with a slight stoop and a cat-like crawl. His face is
large and flabby, ornamented with mutton-chop whiskers,
streaked as with the silver of half a century of tips. He is
always at your elbow a mercenary Mephistopheles sug-
gesting drives or sails, and recommending certain yachts,
boats, and carriages with insinuative irresistibleness. He
has the tenacity of an army of able-bodied leeches, and if
you do not take his advice he spoils your day. You may
shake him off by fleeing into the interior of the Isle, or
MATED BY A WAITER.
207
plunging into the sea ; but you cannot be always trotting
about or bathing ; and at meal-times he waits upon those
who have disregarded his recommendations. He has a
hopelessly corruptive effect on the soul, and I, who have
always prided myself on
my immaculate moral get-
up, was driven to desper-
ate lying within twenty-
four hours of my arrival.
I told him how much I
had enjoyed the carriage-
drive he had counselled,
or the sail he had sanc-
tioned by his approval;
and, in return, he regaled
me with titbits at our table
d'hdte dinner. But the
next day he followed me
about with large, reproach-
ful eyes, in grieved silence.
I saw that he knew all; u
and I dragged myself r
along with my tail be-
tween my legs, miserably
asking myself how I could
regain his respect.
"Wherever I turned I
saw nothing but those di-
lated orbs of rebuke. I took refuge in my bedroom, but he
glided in to give me a bad French halfpenny the chamber-
maid had picked up under my bed ; and the implied con-
trast to be read in those eyes, between the honesty of the
establishment and my own, was more than I could bear. I
'THE INFANT."
208 MATED BY A WAITER.
flew into a passion the last resource of detected guilt
and irrelevantly told him I would choose my own amuse-
ments, and that I had not come down to increase his com-
missions.
" Ted, till my dying day I shall not forget the dumb mar-
tyrdom of those eyes ! When he was sufficiently recovered
to speak, he swore, in a voice broken by emotion, that he
would scorn taking commissions from the quarters I imag-
ined. Ashamed of my unjust suspicions, I apologised, and
went out that afternoon alone for a trip in the Mayblossom,
and was violently sick. Merton funked it because the
weather was rough, and had a lucky escape ; but he had to
meet Jones in the evening.
" Merton's theory is, that Jones doesn't get commissions,
for the simple reason that the wagonettes and broughams
and bath-chairs and boats and yachts he recommends all
belong to him, and that the nominal proprietors are men of
straw, stuffed by the only Jones. This theory is, I must
admit, borne out by the evidence of O'Rafferty, a jolly old
Irishman, whose wife died here early in the year, and who
has been making holiday ever since. He says that Jones
had a week off in March when there was hardly anybody
in the hotel, and he was to be seen driving a wagonette
between Ryde and Cowes daily. And, indeed, there is
something curiously provincial and plebeian about Jones's
mind which suggests a man who has risen from the cab-
ranks.
" His ideas of tips are delightfully democratic, and you
cannot insult him even with twopence. He handles a bottle
of cheap claret as reverently as a Russian the image of his
saint, and he has never got over his awe of champagne.
To drink Monopole at dinner is to mount a pedestal of
dignity, and I completely recovered his esteem by drowning
MATED BY A WAITER.
209
the memories of that awful marine experience in a pint of
' dry.' When he draws the champagne cork he has a sacer-
dotal air, and he pours out the foaming liquid with the
obsequiousness of an archbishop placing on his sovereign's
"THE ONLY JONES."
head the crown he may never hope to do more than touch.
But perhaps the best proof of the humbleness of his origin
is his veneration for the aristocracy. An average waiter is,
from the nature of his occupation, liable to be brought into
contact with the bluest of blood, and to have his undimin-
210 MATED BY A WAITER.
ished reverence for it tempered with a good-natured percep-
tion of mortal foibles. But Jones's attitude is one of awe-
struck unquestioning worship. He speaks of a lord with
bated breath, and he dare not, even in conversation, ascend
to a duke.
" It would seem that this is not one of the hotels which
the aristocrat's fancy turns to thoughts of; for apparently
only one lord has ever stayed here, judging by the frequency
with which Jones whispers his name. Though some of us
seem to have a beastly lot of money, and to do all the year
round what Merton and I can only indulge in for a month,
we are a rather plebeian company I fear, and it is simply
overwhelming the way Jones rams Lord Porchester down
our throats.
" ' When his lordship stayed here he partic'larly admired
the view from that there window.' ' His lordship wouldn't
drink anything but Pommery Green-oh ; he used to
swallow it by tumblersful, as you or I might rum-and-water,
sir.' ' Ah, sir ! Lord Porchester hired the Mayblossom all
to himself, and often said : " By Jove ! she's like a sea-gull.
She almost comes near my own little beauty. I think I
shall have to buy her, by gad I shall ! and let them race
each other." '
"And the fellow is such an inveterate gossip that every-
body here knows everybody else's business. The proprietor
is a quiet, gentlemanly fellow, and is the only person in the
place who keeps his presence of mind in the presence of
Jones, and is not in mental subjugation to the flabby, florid,
crawling boss of the rest of the show.
" You may laugh, but I warrant you wouldn't be here a
day before Jones would get the upper hand of you. On
the outside, of course, he is as fixedly deferential as if every
moment were to be your last, and the cab were waiting to
MATED BY A WAITER. 211
take you to the Station ; but inwardly, you feel he is wound
about you like a boa-constrictor. I do so long to see him
swathing you in his coils ! Won't you come down, and
give your patients a chance ? "
" My dear Jack," I wrote back to the Infant, " I am so
sorry that you are having bad weather. You don't say so,
but when a man covers six sheets of writing-paper I know
what it means. I must say you have given me an itching to
try my strength with the only Jones ; but, alas ! this is a
musical neighbourhood, and there is a run on sore throats,
so I must be content to enjoy my Jones by deputy. Is
there any other attraction about the shanty?"
Merton Towers took up the running :
" Barring ourselves and Jones," he wrote, " and perhaps
O'Rafferty, there isn't a decent human being in the hotel
The ladies are either old and ugly, or devoted to their hus-
bands. The only ones worth talking to are in the honey-
moon stage. But Jones is worth a hundred petticoats : he
is tremendous fun. We've got a splendid spree on now.
I think the Infant told you that Jones has not enjoyed that
actual contact with the ' hupper suckles ' which his simple
snobbish soul so thoroughly deserves ; and that, in spite of
the eternal Lord Porchester, his acquaintance is less with
the beau monde than with the Bow and Bromley monde.
Since the Infant and I discovered this we have been putting
on the grand air. Unfortunately, it was too late to claim
titles ; but we have managed to convey the impression that,
although commoners and plain misters, we have yet had the
privilege of rubbing against the purple. We have casually
and carelessly dropped hints of aristocratic acquaintances,
and Jones has bowed down and picked them up reverently.
"The other day, when he brought us our Chartreuse
after dinner, the Infant said : ' Ah ! I suppose you haven't
212 MATED BY A WAITER.
got Damtidam in stock?' The only Jones stared awe-
struck. ' Of course not ! How can it possibly have pene-
trated to these parts yet?' I struck in with supercilious
reproach. * Damtidam ! What is that, sir ? ' faltered Jones.
' What ! you don't mean to say you haven't even heard of
it? ' cried the Infant in amaze. Jones looked miserable and
apologetic. ' It's the latest liqueur,' I explained graciously.
' Awfully expensive ; made by a new brotherhood of An-
chorites in Dalmatia, who have secluded themselves from
the world in order to concoct it. They only serve the
aristocracy; but, of course, now and then a millionaire
manages to get hold of a bottle. Lord Everett made me
a present of some a couple of months ago, but I use it very,
very sparingly, and I daresay the flask's at least half-full.
I have it in my portmanteau.' 'How does it taste, sir?'
enquired Jones, in a hushed, solemn whisper. ' Damtidam
is not the sort of thing that would please the uncultured
palate,' I replied haughtily. ' It's what they call an acquired
taste, ain't it, sir ? ' he asked wistfully. ' Would you like to
have a drop ? ' I said affably. ' Oh, Towers ! ' cried the
Infant, 'what would Lord Everett say?' 'Well, but how is
Lord Everett to know?' I responded. 'Jones will never
let on.' ' His lordship shall never hear a word from my
lips,' Jones protested gratefully. ' But you won't like it at
first. To really enjoy Damtidam, you'll have to have several
goes at it. Have you got a little phial ? ' Jones ran and
fetched the phial, and I fished out of my portmanteau the
bottle of dyspepsia mixture you gave us and filled Jones's
phial. I watched him glide into the garden and put
the phial to his lips with a heavenly expression, through
which some suggestions of purgatory subsequently flitted.
That was yesterday.
" ' Well, Jones, how do you like Damtidam ? ' I enquired
MATED BY A WAITER. 213
genially this morning. 'Very 'igh-class, very 'igh-class in
its taste, thank you, sir,' he replied. ' It's 'ardly for the
likes o' me, I'm afraid ; but as you've been good enough to
give me some, I'll make so bold as to enjoy it. I 'ad a
second sip at it this morning, and I liked it a deal better
than yesterday. It requires time to get the taste, sir ; but,
depend upon it, I'll do my best to acquire it.' 'I wish you
success ! ' I cried. ' Once you get used to it, it's simply
delicious. Why, I'd never travel without a bottle of it. I
often take it in the middle of the night. You finish that
phial, Jones ; never mind the cost. I'm writing to Lord
Everett to-day, and I'll drop him a broad hint that I should
like another.'
" Eureka ! As I write this a glorious idea has occurred
to me. I am writing to you to-day, and you are the giver
of the Damtidam, alias dyspepsia mixture. Oh, if you
could only come down and pose as Lord Everett ! What
larks we should have ! Do, old boy ; it'll be the greatest
spree we've ever had. Don't say ' no.' You want a change,
you know you do ; or you'll be on the sick-list yourself
soon. Come, if only for a week ! Surely you can find a
chum to take your practice. How about Robins? He
can't be all ears. I daresay he's equal to looking after your
throats and eyes for a week. The Infant joins with me, and
says that if you don't come he'll kill off Jones, and deprive
you for ever of the pleasure of knowing him.
" I remain,
" Yours till Jones's death,
" MERTON TOWERS.
" P.S. When you come, bring a dozen of Damtidam."
The prospect of becoming Lord Everett flattered and
tickled me, and was a daily temptation to me in my dreary
214 MATED BY A WAITER.
drudgery. To the appeal of the pictured visions of woods
and waters was added the alluring figure of Jones, standing
a little bent amid the smiling landscape, acquiring a taste
for Damtidam ; his pasty face kneaded ecstatically, his hand
on the pit of his stomach. At last I could stand it no
longer, I went to see Robins, and I wrote to my friends :
"Jones wins ! Expect me about ten days before the
Review, so that we can return to town together.
"When I first asked Robins to take my eyes, he was
inclined to dash them ; but the moment I let him into the
plot against Jones, he agreed to do all my work on condition
of being informed of the progress of the campaign.
" I shan't tell anyone I'm leaving town, and Robins
will forward my letters in an envelope addressed to Lord
Everett.
" P.S. I am bottling a special brand of Damtidam."
CHAPTER II.
A DIFFICULT OPENING.
THE proudest moment of Jones's life was probably when
he assisted me to alight from the carriage I had ordered at
the station. I wore a light duster, a straw hat, and goloshes
(among other things), together with the air of having come
over in the same steamboat as the Conqueror. I may 'as
well mention here that I am tall, almost as tall as the
Woolwich Infant, who frequently stands six foot two on my
pet corn (Towers, by the way, is a short squat man, whose
delusion that he is handsome can be read plainly upon his
face). My features, like my habits, are regular. By com-
plexion I belong to the fair sex ; but there is a masculine
MATED BY A WAITER. 215
vigour about my physique and my language which redeems
me from effeminateness. I do not mention my tawny
moustache, because that is not an exclusively male trait in
these days of women's rights.
" Good morning, my lord ! " said Jones, his obeisance so
low and his voice so loud that I had to give the driver
half-a-crown.
I nodded almost imperceptibly, knowing that the surest
way to impress Jones with my breeding was to display no
trace of it. I strolled languidly into the hall, deferentially
followed by the Infant and Merton Towers, leaving Jones
distracted between the desire to handle my luggage and to
show me my room.
" Hexcuse me, my lord," said Jones, fluttered. " Jane,
run for the master."
" Excuse me, my lord," said the Infant ; " I'll run up and
wash for lunch. See you in a moment. Come along,
Merton. It's so beastly high-up. When are you going to
get a lift, Jones?"
" In a moment, sir ; in a moment ! " replied Jones auto-
matically.
He seemed half-dazed.
The quiet, gentlemanly young proprietor, who appeared
to have been disturbed in his studies, for he held a volume
of Dickens in his hand, conducted me to a gorgeously
furnished bedroom on the first floor facing the sea.
" It's the best we can do for your lordship," he said
apologetically ; " but with the Review so near "
I waved my hand impatiently, wishing he could have
done worse for me. In town I had been too busy to
realise the situation in detail ; but now it began to dawn
upon me that it was going to be an expensive joke. Besides,
I was separated from my friends, who were corridors away
216 MATED BY A WAITER.
and flights higher, and convivial meetings at midnight
would mean disagreeable stockinged wanderings for some-
body a mere shadow of a trifle, no doubt, but little things
like that worry more than they look. I was afraid to ask
the price of this swell bedroom, and I began to compre-
hend the meaning of noblesse oblige.
"The sitting-room adjoins," said the hotel-keeper, sud-
denly opening a door and ushering me into a magnificent
chamber, with a lofty ceiling and a dado. The furniture
was plush-covered and suggestive of footmen. " I presume
you will not be taking your meals in public ? "
" H'm ! H'm ! " I muttered, tugging at my moustache.
Then, struck by a bright idea, I said: "What do Mr.
Woolwich and Mr. Towers do ? "
"They join the table (fhdte, your lordship," said the
proprietor. "They didn't require a sitting-room they said,
as they should be almost entirely in the open air."
" Oh ! well, I could hardly leave my friends," I said
reflectively ; " I suppose I shall have to join them at the
table (Thdte."
"I daresay they would like to have your lordship with
them," said the proprietor, with a faint, flattering smile.
I smiled internally at my cunning in getting out of the
sitting-room.
" It's an awful bore," I yawned; "but I'm afraid they'd
be annoyed if I ate up here alone, so "
" You'll invite them up here for all meals ? Yes, my lord,"
said Jones at my elbow.
He had sidled up with his cat-like crawl. Through the open
door of communication I saw he had deposited my boxes
in the gorgeous bedroom. There was a moment of tense
silence, in which I struggled desperately for a response.
The brazen shudder of a gong vibrated through the house.
MATED BY A WAITER. 217
" Is that lunch? " I asked in relief, making a step towards
the door.
" Yes, my lord," said Jones ; " but not your lordship's
lunch. It will be laid here immediately, my lord. I will
go at once and convey your invitation to your lordship's
friends."
He hastened from the room, leaving me dumbfounded.
I did not enjoy Jones as much as I had anticipated. In a
moment a pretty parlour-maid arrived to lay the cloth.
I became conscious that I was hungry and thirsty and
travel-stained, and I determined to let things slide till after
lunch, when I could easily set them right. The sunshine
was flooding the room, and the sea was a dance of
diamonds. The sight of the prandial preparations softened
me. I retired to my beautiful bedroom and plunged my
face into a basin of water.
There was a knock at the door.
"Come in ! " I spluttered.
" Your hot water, my lord ! " It was Jones.
" I've got into enough already," I thought. " Don't want
it," I growled peremptorily ; " I always wash in cold."
I would have my way in small things, I resolved, if I
could not have it in great.
" Certainly, your lordship ; this is only for shaving."
My cheeks grew hot beneath the ringers washing them.
I remembered that I had overslept myself that morning,
and neglected shaving lest I should miss my train. There
were but a few microscopic hairs, yet I felt at once I had
not the face to meet Jones at lunch.
" Thank you ! " I said savagely.
When I had wiped my eyes I found he was still in the
room, bent in meek adoration.
" What in the devil do you want now ? " I thundered.
218 MATED BY A WAITER.
His eyes lit up with rapture. It was as though I had
made oath I was a nobleman and removed his last doubt.
" Pommery Green-oh or Hideseek, my lord? "
I cursed silently. I am of an easy-going disposition, and
in my most penurious student days, had to spend twenty-five
per cent more on my modest lunch whenever the waiter
said: "Stout or bitter, sir?" But the present alternative
was far more terrible. I was on the point of saying I was a
teetotaller, when I remembered that would shut off my
nocturnal whisky-and-water, and condemn me to goody-
goody beverages at meals. I remembered, too, that Jones
intended the champagne as much for my friends as myself,
and that lords are proverbially disassociated from temper-
ance. Oh ! it was horrible that this oleaginous snob should
rob a poor man of his beer ! Perhaps I could escape with
claret. In my agitation I commenced lathering my chin
and returned no answer at all. The voice of Jones came at
last, charged with deeper respect, but inevitable as the knell
of doom.
" Did you say Pommery Green-oh ! my lord? "
" No ! " I yelled defiantly.
" Thank you, my lord. Lord Porchester was very partial
to our Hideseek when he was here. We have an excel-
lent year."
" I wish you had twelve months," I thought furiously.
Then when the door closed upon him, I ground my razor
savagely and muttered : " All right ! I'll take it out of you
in Damtidam."
I heard the bustle of my friends arriving to lunch, and I
shaved myself hastily. Then slipping on my coat and dab-
bing a bit of sticking-plaster on my chin, I threw open the
door violently ; for I was not going to let those two fellows
off an exhibition of slang. They should have thought out
MATED BY A WAITER. 219
the plot more fully ; have hired me a moderate bedroom in
advance, and not have let me in for the luxuries of Lucullus.
It was a cowardly desertion, their leaving me at the critical
moment, and they should learn what I thought of it.
" You ruffians ! " I began ; but the words died on my
lips. Jones was waiting at table.
It ought to have been a delicious lunch : broiled chickens
and apple-tart; the cool breeze coming through the open
window, the sea and the champagne sparkling. But I, who
was hungriest, enjoyed it least; Jones, who ate nothing,
enjoyed it most. The Infant and Merton Towers simply
overflowed with high spirits, keeping up a running fire of
aristocratic allusions, which galled me beyond endurance.
"By the way, how is the dowager-duchess?" wound up
the Infant.
"D the dowager-duchess!" I roared, losing the re-
mains of my temper.
Jones grew radiant, and the Infant winked irritating
approval of my natural touches. Such contempt for duch-
esses could only be bred of familiarity. At last I could
contain myself no longer ; I must either explode or have a
fit. I sent Jones for cigarettes.
Directly the door closed those two men turned upon me.
"I say, old fellow," exclaimed Towers reproachfully,
" isn't this just going it a little too far? "
"What in creation made you take these howling apart-
ments ?" asked the Infant. " Review time, too ! They've
been saving up these rooms, foreseeing there would be some
tip-top swells crowded out of the fashionable hotels. Why,
there's a cosy little crib next to ours I made sure you'd
have."
" Well, I call this cool ! " I gasped.
" So it is," said the Infant ; "I admit that. It's the cool-
220 MATED BY A WAITER.
est room in the house. It'll be real jolly up here ; and if
you can stand the racket I'm sure I'm not the chap to
grumble."
"You must have been doing beastly well, old man,"
Towers put in enviously ; " to feed us like critics on chicken
and champagne. I suppose they'll be opening new ceme-
teries down your way presently."
" Look here, my fine fellows," I said ferociously, " don't
you forget that there's plenty of room still in Ryde Church-
yard."
" Hallo, Ted ! " cried the Infant, looking up with ingenu-
ous surprise, " I thought you came down here on a holiday? "
" Stash that ! " I said. " It's you who've got me into this
hole, and you know it."
" Hole ! " cried Towers, looking round the room in amaze.
" He calls this a hole ! Hang it all, my boy, are you a
millionaire ? I call this good enough for a lord."
" Yes ; but as I'm neither," I said grimly, " I should like
you to understand that I'm not going to pay for this
spread."
" What ! " gasped the Infant. " Invite a man to lunch,
and expect him to square the bill?"
" I never invited you ! " I said indignantly.
"Who then?" said Towers sternly.
" Jones ! " I answered.
" Yes, my lord ! Sorry to have kept your lordship wait-
ing ; but I think you will find these cigarettes to your liking.
I haven't been at this box since Lord Porchester was here,
and it got mislaid."
" Take them away ! " I roared. " They're Egyptians ! "
" Yes, my lord ! " said Jones, in delight.
He glided proudly from the room.
"'Jones invited us?'" pursued the Infant. "What rot!
MATED BY A WAITER. 221
As if Jones would dare do anything you hadn't told him.
We are his slaves. But you? Why, he hangs on your
words ! "
" D him ! I should like to see him hanging on
something higher ! " I cried.
" Yes, your language is low," admitted the Infant. " But,
seriously, what's all the row about? I thought this cham-
pagne lunch was a bit of realism, just to start off with."
I explained briefly how Jones had coiled himself around
me, even as they had described. The dado echoed their
ribald laughter.
"Oh, well," said the Infant, "it's only right you should
give a lunch the day you come into a peerage. It's really
too much to expect us to pay scot, when there was a beau-
tiful lunch of cold beef and pickles waiting for us in the
dining-room, and included in our terms per week. We
aren't going to pay for two lunches."
" I don't mind the lunch," I said, smiling, my sense of
humour returning now that I had poured forth my griev-
ance. " I'd gladly give you chaps a lunch any day, and I'm
pleased you enjoyed it so much. But, for the rest, I'm
going to run this joke by syndicate, or not at all. I only
came down with a tenner."
" A pound a day ! " said Towers, " that ought to be
enough."
"Why, there's a pound gone bang over this lunch
already ! " I retorted.
"And then there's the apartments," put in the Infant
roguishly. " I wonder what they'll tot up to ? "
"Jones alone knows," I groaned.
He came in a veritable devil while his name was
on my lips, with a new box of cigarettes.
" Clear away ! " I said briefly.
222 MATED BY A WAITER.
He cleared away, and we breathed freely. We leaned
back in the plush-covered easy-chairs, sending rings of
fragrant smoke towards the blue horizon, and I felt more
able to face the situation calmly.
" I daresay we can lend you five quid between us," said
Towers.
" What's the good of a loan to an honest man? " I asked.
"Can't we work the joke without such a lot of capital?
The first thing is to get out of these rooms, and into that
cosy little crib near you. I can say I yearn for your
society."
" But have you the courage to look Jones in the face and
tell him that?" queried Towers dubiously.
I hesitated. I felt instinctively that Jones would be
dreadfully shocked if I changed my palatial apartments for
a cheap bedroom ; that it would be better if some one else
broke the news.
" Oh, the Infant'll explain," I said lightly.
"Nothing of the sort," said the Infant; "it won't wash
now. Besides, they'd make you shell out in any case.
They'd pretend they turned lots of applicants away this
morning, because the rooms were let. No, keep the bed-
room, and we'll go shares in this sitting-room. It's jollier
to have a proper private room."
" Good ! " I said. " Then it only remains to escape from
these special meals and the champagne."
" You leave that to me," said the Infant. " I'll tell Jones
that you hunger for our company at meals, but that we
can't consent to come up here, because you, with that reck-
less prodigality which is wearing the dowager-duchess to
a shadow, insist on paying for everything consumed on your
premises, so that you must e'en come to the general table.
Jones will be glad enough to trot you round."
MATED BY A WAITER. 223
" And I'll tell him," added Towers, " that, with that de-
termined dipsomania which is making the money-lenders
daily friendlier to your little brother, you swill champagne
till you fly at waiters' throats like a mad dog, and that it is
our sacred duty to diet you on table-beer or Tintara."
"Wouldn't it be simpler to tell him the truth?" I asked
feebly.
"What!" gasped the Infant, "chuck up the sponge?
Don't spoil the loveliest holiday I ever had, old man. Just
think how you will go up in his estimation, when we tell
him you are a spendthrift and a drunkard ! For pity's sake,
don't throw a gloom over Jones's life."
" Very well," I said, relenting. " Only the exes must be
cut down. The motto must be, ' Extravaganza without ex-
travagance, or farces economically conducted.' "
" Right you are ! " they said ; and then we smoked on in
halcyon voluptuousness, now and then passing the matches
or a droll remark about Jones. In the middle of one of the
latter there was a knock at the door, and Jones entered.
" The carriage will be round in five minutes, my lord," he
announced.
"The carriage ! " I faltered, growing pale.
" Yes, my lord. I took the liberty of thinking your lord-
ship wouldn't waste such a fine afternoon indoors."
" No ; I'm going out at once," I said resolutely. " But
I shan't drive."
" Very well, my lord ; I will countermand the carriage,
and order a horse. I presume your lordship would . like a
spirited one? Jayes, up the street, has a beautiful bay
steed."
" Thank you ; I don't care for riding er other peo-
ple's horses."
"No; of course not, my lord. I'll see that the May-
224 MATED BY A WAITER.
blossom is reserved for your lordship's use this afternoon.
Your lordship will have time for a glorious sail before
dinner."
He hastened from the room.
" You'd better have the carriage," said the Infant drily ;
" it's cheaper than the yacht. You'll have to have it once,
and you may as well get it over. After one trial, you can
say it's too springless and the cushions are too crustaceous
for your delicate anatomy."
" I'll see him at Jericho first ! " I cried, and wrenched at
the bellpull with angry determination.
" Yes, my lord ! "
He stood bent and insinuative before me.
" I won't have the yacht."
"Very well, my lord; then I won't countermand the
carriage."
He turned to go.
" Jones ! " I shrieked.
He looked back at me. His eyes, full of a trusting rev-
erence, met mine. My resolution began oozing out at
every pore.
"Is is are you going with the carriage?" I stam-
mered, for want of something to say.
" No, my lord," he answered wistfully.
That settled it. I let him depart without another word.
It was certainly a pleasant drive through the delightful
scenery of the Isle, and I determined, since I had to pay
the piper, to enjoy the dance. The Infant and Towers
were hilarious to the point of vulgarity : I let myself go at
the will of Jones. When we got back, we realised with a
start that it was half-past six. The dressing-gong was sound-
ing. Jones met me in the passage.
"Dinner at seven, my lord, in your room."
MATED BY A WAITER. 225
I made frantic motions to the Infant.
" Tell him ! " I breathed.
" It's too late now," he whispered back. " To-morrow ! "
I telegraphed desperately to Towers. He shook his thick
head helplessly.
" Have you invited my friends to dinner? " I asked Jones
bitingly.
" No, my lord," he said simply. " I thought your lord-
ship 'ad seen enough of them to-day."
There was a suggestion of reproach in the apology. Jones
was more careful of my dignity than I was.
When I got to my room, I found, to my horror, my dress-
clothes laid out on the bed I had brought them on the
off-chance of going to a local dance. Jones had opened
my portmanteau. For a moment a cold chill traversed my
spine, as I thought he must have seen the monogram on
my linen, and discovered the imposture. Then I remem-
bered with joy that it was an " E," which is the more formal
initial of Ted, and would do for Everett. In my relief, I
felt I must submit to the nuisance of dressing in honour
of Jones. While changing my trousers, a sudden curiosity
took me. I peeped through the keyhole of my sitting-
room, and saw Jones just arriving with another bottle of
Heidsieck. I groaned. I knew I should have to drink it,
to keep up the fiction Towers was going to palm off on
Jones to-morrow. I felt like bolting on the spot, but I was
in my Jaegers. Presently Jones sidled mysteriously towards
my door and knelt down before it. It flashed upon me he
wanted the keyhole I was occupying. I jumped up in
alarm, and dressed with the decorum of a god with a wor-
shipper's eye on him.
I swallowed what Jones gave me, fuming. With the
roast, a blessed thought came to soothe me. Thenceforward
226 MATED BY A WAITER.
I chuckled continuously. I refused the parfait aux /rat's
and the savoury in my eagerness for the end of the meal.
Revenge was sufficient sweets.
" Haw, hum ! " I murmured, caressing my moustache.
" Bring me a Damtidam."
I knew his little phial must be exhausted long since. I
intended to give him a bottle.
" Did your lordship say Damtidam ? "
" Damtidam ! " I roared, while my heart beat volup-
tuous music. " You don't mean to say you don't keep
it?"
" Oh no, my lord ! We laid in a big stock of it ; but
Lord Porchester was that fond of it (used to drink it like
your lordship does champagne), I doubt if I could lay my
hand on a bottle."
" What an awful bo-ah ! " I yawned. " I suppose I'll
have to get a bottle of my own out of that little black box
under my bed. I couldn't possibly go without it after
dinner. Hang it all, the key is in my other trousers ! "
" Oh, don't trouble, my lord," said Jones anxiously.
" I'll run and see if I can find any."
I waited, gloating.
Jones returned gleefully.
" I've found plenty, my lord," he said, setting down a
brimming liqueur-glass.
He lingered about, clearing the table. His eye was upon
me. I drank the Damtidam. Then Jones departed, and I
went about kicking the furniture, and striding about in my
desolate grandeur, like Napoleon at St. Helena.
Presently the Infant and Towers came rushing in, choking
with laughter.
" Your arrival has fired afresh all Jones's aristocratic
ambitions," gurgled Towers. " Ha ! ha ! ha ! "
MATED BY A WAITER. 227
" Ho ! ho ! ho ! " panted the Infant. " He's coaxed us
out of all our remaining Damtidam."
I grinned a sickly response.
" Great Scot ! " the Infant bellowed. " What's this howl-
ing wilderness of shirt-front? "
" It's cooler," I explained.
CHAPTER III.
THE QUEEN COMES INTO PLAY.
I HAD to breakfast in my room, but by lunch the next day
my friends had found an opportunity to explain me to
Jones. They had on several occasions strongly exhorted
Jones to secrecy as to my rank, so that the eyes of the
whole table were on me when I entered. I ate with the
ease of one conscious of giving involuntary lessons in eti-
quette to a furtive-glancing bourgeoisie. The Infant gave
me Tintara, to break me gradually of champagne and reduce
me* to malt. After lunch Towers remonstrated with Jones
on having obviously given me away.
" Sir," protested Jones, in righteous indignation, " I prom-
ised to tell no one in the hotel, and I have kept my word ! "
" Well, how do they know then? " enquired Towers.
" I shouldn't be surprised if they read it in the Visitors'
List" Jones answered.
Being now half-emancipated, I fell into the usual routine
of a seaside holiday. I swam, I rowed, I walked, I lounged,
whenever Jones would let me. One wet morning we even
congratulated ourselves on our luxurious sitting-room, as we
sat and smoked before the rain-whipt sea, till, unexpected,
Jones brought up lunch for three. That evening, as we
228 MATED BY A WAITER.
were entering the dining-room, Jones observed humbly to
the Infant and Towers :
" Excuse me, gentlemen ; I 'ave 'ad to separate you from
his lordship. We've 'ad such a influx of visitors for the
Review, I've been 'ard put to it to squeeze them all in."
Those wretched cowards marched feebly to a new ex-
tremity of the table, while I walked to my usual seat near
the window, with anger flaming duskily on my brow. This
time I was determined. I would stick to table-beer all the
same.
But before I dropped into my chair every trace of anger
vanished. My heart throbbed violently, my dazzled eyes
surveyed my serviette. At my side was one of the most
charming girls I had ever met. When the Heidsieck came,
I raised my glass as in a dream, and silently drank to the
glorious creature nearest my heart on the left hand.
We medicos are not easily upset by woman's beauty ; we
know too well what it is made of. But there was something
so exquisite about this girl's face as to make a hardened
materialist hesitate to resolve her into a physiological for-
mula. It was not long before I offered to pass her the pepper.
She declined with thanks and brevity. Her accent grated
unexpectedly on my ear : I was puzzled to know why. I
spoke of the rain that still tapped at the window, as if
anxious to come in.
" It was raining when I left Paris," she said ; " but up
till then I had a lovely time."
Now I saw what was the matter. She suffered from twang
and was American. I have always had a prejudice against
Americans chiefly, I believe, because they always seem to
be having " a lovely time." It was with a sense of partial
disenchantment that I continued the conversation :
"So you have been in Paris?" I said, thinking of the
MATED BY A WAITER. 229
old joke about good Americans going there when they die.
" I must admit you look as if you had come from Heaven !"
" So wretched as all that ! " she retorted, laughing mer-
rily. There was no twang in the laugh; it was a ripple
of music.
" I don't mean an exile from Heaven," I answered : " an
excursionist, with a return-ticket."
" Oh ! but I'm not going back," she said, shaking her
lovely head.
" Not even when you die?" I asked, smiling.
" I guess I shall need a warmer climate then ! " she
flashed back audaciously.
"You're too good for that," I answered, without hesi-
tation.
I caught a mischievous twinkle in her blue eyes, as she
answered :
" Gracious ! you're very spry at giving strange folks cer-
tificates."
" It's my business to give certificates," I answered, smiling.
" Marriage certificates, my lord ? " she asked roguishly.
I was about to answer " Doctors' certificates," but her last
two syllables froze the words on my lips.
" You you know me ? " I stammered.
" Yes, your lordship," with a mock bow.
" Why how ? " I faltered. " You've only just come."
" Jones," she answered.
" Jones ! " I repeated, vexed.
" Yes, my lord."
He glided up and re-filled my glass.
"Jones is a nuisance," I said, when he was out of earshot
again.
"Jones is a Britisher ! " she said enigmatically. " Surely
you don't mind people knowing who you are? "
230 MATED BY A WAITER.
" I'm afraid I do," I replied uneasily.
" I guess your reputation must be real shady," she said,
with her American candour. " You English lords, we have
just about sized you up in the States."
"I I " I stammered.
" No ! don't tell me," she interrupted quickly ; " I'd
rather not know. My aunt here, that lady on my left,
she's a widow and half a Britisher, and respectable, don't
you know, will want me to cut you."
"And you don't want to?" I exclaimed eagerly.
" Well, one must talk to somebody," she said, arching her
eyebrows. " It's all very well for my aunt. She's left her
children at home. That's happiness enough for her. But
that don't make things equally lively for me."
" Your language is frank," I said laughingly.
" Yes, that's one of the languages you've forgotten how to
speak in this old country."
Again that musical ripple of mirth. Her fascination was
fast enswathing me like another Jones, only a thousandfold
more sweetly. Already I found her twang delightful, lending
the last touch of charm to her original utterances. I looked
up suddenly, and saw the Infant and Towers glaring enviously
at me from the other end of the table. Then I was quite
happy. True, they had the sprightly O'Rafferty between
them, but he did not seem to console them rather to
chaff them.
" Ho ! ho ! " I roared, when we reached our sitting-room
that night. "There's virtue in the peerage after all."
" Shut up ! " the Infant snarled. " If you think you're
going to annex that ripping creature, I warn you that bloated
aristocracy will have to settle up for its marble halls. We're
running this thing by syndicate, remember."
"Yes, but this isn't part of the profits," I urged defiantly.
MATED BY A WAITER. 231
" Oh, isn't it ? " put in Towers. " Why do you suppose
Jones sat her next to you, if not as a prerogative of nobility? "
" Well, but if I can get her to go out with me alone, that's
a private transaction."
" No go, Teddy," said the Infant. " We don't allow you
to play for your own hand."
" Or hers," added Towers. "While you were spooning,
Jones was telling us all about her. Her name's Harper
Ethelberta Harper, and her old man is a Railway King, or
something."
" She's a queen I don't care of what ! " I said fervently.
" We got very chummy, and I'm going to take her for a
row to-morrow morning. It's not my fault if she doesn't
pal on to you."
" Stow that cant ! " cried the Infant. " Either you
surrender her to the syndicate or pay your own exes.
Choose ! "
" Well, I'll compromise ! " I said desperately.
" No, you don't ! It's to prevent your compromising her
we want to stand in. We'll all go for that row."
"No, listen to my suggestion. I'll invite her to lunch
after the row, and I'll invite you fellows to meet her."
"But how do you know she'll come?" said Towers.
" She will if I ask her aunt too."
" Scoundrel, you've asked them both already ! " cried the
Infant. " Where's the compromise ? "
"I hadn't asked you already," I reminded him.
" No, but now you propose to use the capital pf the
syndicate ! " he rejoined sharply.
" Nothing of the kind," I retorted rashly.
So it was settled. I had four guests to lunch, and Jones
expanded visibly. The Infant and Towers kept Miss Harper
pretty well to themselves, while I was left to entertain Mrs.
232 MATED BY A WAITER.
Windpeg, a comely but tedious lady, who gave me details
of her life in England since she left New York, a newly
married wife, twenty years before. She seemed greatly
interested in these details. Ethelberta paid no attention to
her aunt, but a great deal to my friends. Several times I
found myself gnawing my lip instead of my wing. But I
had my revenge at the table d^hdte. Jones kept my friends
remorselessly at bay, and religiously guarded my proximity
to the lovely American. Strange mental revolution ! The
idea of tipping Jones actually commenced to germinate in
my mind.
It was on Review- day that I realised I was hopelessly in
love. Of course my quartet of friends was at the windows
of my sitting-room. Jones also selected this room to see
the Review from, and I fancy he regaled my visitors with
delicate refreshments throughout the day, and I remember
being vaguely glad that he made amends for the general
neglect of Mrs. Windpeg by offering her the choicest titbits ;
but I have no clear recollection of anything but Ethelberta.
Her face was my Review, though there was no powder on
it. The play of light on her cheeks and hair was all the
manoeuvres I cared for the pearls of her mouth were
my ranged rows of ships; and when everybody else was
peering hopelessly into the thick smoke, my eyes were feast-
ing on the sunshine of her face. I did not hear the cannon,
nor the long, endless clamour of the packed streets, only
the soft words she spoke from time to time.
"To-morrow morning I must go away," I murmured to
her at dinner. I fancied she grew paler, but I could not
be sure, for Jones at that moment changed my plate.
" I am sorry," she said simply. "Must you go? "
" Yes," I answered sadly. " My beautiful holiday is over.
To-morrow, to work."
MATED BY A WAITER. 233
" I thought, for you lords, life was one long holiday," she
said, surprised.
I was glad of the reminder. My love was hopeless. A
struggling doctor could not ask for the hand of an heiress.
Even if he could, it would be a poor recommendation to
start with a confession of imposture. To ask, without con-
fessing, were to become a scoundrel and a fortune-hunter
of the lowest type. No ; better to pass from her ken, leav-
ing her memory of me untainted by suspicion leaving my
memory of her an idyllic, unfinished dream. And yet I
could not help reflecting, with agony, that if I had not
begun under false colours, if I had come to her only as
what I was, I might have dared to ask for her love yea,
and perhaps have won it. Oh, how weak I had been not to
tell her from the first ! As if she would not have appre-
ciated the joke ! As if she would not have enrolled herself
joyously in the campaign against Jones !
" Ah ! my life will be anything but a long holiday, I fear,"
I sighed.
"Say, you're not an hereditary legislator? " she asked.
" Legislation is not the hereditary disease I complain of,"
I said evasively.
"What then?"
" Love ! " I replied desperately.
She laughed gaily.
" I guess that's an original view of love."
"Why? My parents suffered from it: at least, I hope
they did."
" Doubtful ! Your Upper Ten is usually supposed to have
cured marriage of it."
She bent her head over her plate, so that I strove in vain
to read her eyes.
" Well, it's a beastly shame," I said. " Don't you think
234 MATED BY A WAITER.
so, Miss Harper Ethelberta ? May I call you Ethel-
berta?"
" If it gives you any comfort," she said plumply.
" It gives me more than comfort," I rejoined.
A wild hope flamed in my breast. What if she loved me
after all ! I would speak the word. But no ! If she did,
I had won her love under a false glamour of nobility. Bet-
ter, far better, to keep both my secrets in my own breast.
Besides, had I not seen she was a flirt ? I continued to call
her Ethelberta, but that was all. When we rose from table
I had not spoken ; knowing that my friends would claim my
society for the rest of the evening, I held out my hand
in final farewell. She took it. Her own hand was hot. I
clasped it for a moment, gazing into the wonderful blue
eyes ; then I let it go, and all was over.
"I do believe Teddy is hit ! " Towers said when I came
into our room, whither they had preceded me.
" Rot ! " I said, turning my face away. " A seasoned
bachelor like me. Heigho ! I shall be awfully glad to get
to work again to-morrow."
" Yes," said the Infant. " I see from the statistics that
the mortality of your district has declined frightfully. That
Robins must be a regular duffer."
" I'll soon set that right ! " I exclaimed, with a forced
grin.
" She certainly is a stunner," Towers mused.
" Hullo ! I'm afraid it's Merton that's damaged," I
laughed boisterously.
" Well, if she wasn't an heiress " began Towers
slowly.
" She might have you," finished the Infant. " But I say,
boys, we'd better ask for our bills ; we've got to be off in the
morning by the 8.5. Jones mightn't be up when we leave."
MATED BY A WAITER. 235
The room echoed with sardonic laughter at the idea.
There was no need to ring for Jones ; he found two pretexts
an hour to come and gaze upon me. When my bill came, I
went to the window for air and to hide my face from Jones.
" All right, Jones ! " cried the Infant, guessing what was
up. " We'll leave it on the table before we go to bed."
"Well?" my friends enquired eagerly, when Jones had
crawled off.
" Twenty-seven pounds two and tenpence ! " I groaned,
letting the accursed paper drift helplessly to the floor.
" D d reasonable ! " said the Infant.
" You would go it ! " Towers added soothingly.
" Reasonable or not," I said, " I've only got six pounds
in my pockets."
" You said you brought ten," said Towers.
" Yes ! but what of carriage-sails and yacht-drives ? " I
cried agitatedly.
" You're drunk," said the Infant brutally. " However,
I suppose, before going into dividing exes we must get
together the gross sum."
It was easier said than done. When every farthing had
been scraped together, we were thirteen pounds short on
the three bills. We held a long council of war, discussing
the possibilities of surreptitious pledging the unspeakable
Jones, playing his blindfold game, had reduced us to pawn
but even these were impracticable.
" Confound you ! " cried Merton Towers. "Why didn't
you think of the bill before ? "
As if I had not better things to think of !
The horror of facing Jones in the morning drove us to
the most desperate devices ; but none seemed workable.
" There's only one way left of getting the coin, Teddy,"
said the Infant at last.
236 MATED BY A WAITER.
"What's that?" I cried eagerly.
" Ask the heiress."
It was an ambiguous phrase, but in whatever sense he
meant it, it was a cruel and unmanly thrust ; in my indigna-
tion I saw light.
"What fools we have been!" I shouted. "It's as easy
as A B C. I'm not in an office like you, bound to be back
to the day I stay on over to-morrow, and you send me
on the money from town."
" Where are we to get it from ? " growled Towers.
" Anywhere ! anybody ! " I cried excitedly ; " I'll write
to Robins at once for it."
" Why not wire ? " said the Infant.
" I don't see the necessity for wasting sixpence," I said ;
" we must be economical. Besides, Jones would read the
wire."
CHAPTER IV.
THE WINNING MOVE.
TIME slipped on ; but I could not tear myself away from
this enchanted hotel. The departure of my friends allowed
me to be nearly all day with Ethelberta.
I had drowned reason and conscience : day followed day
in a golden languor and the longer I stopped, the harder it
was to go. At last Robins's telegrams became too imperative
to be disregarded, and even my second supply of money
would not suffice for another day.
The bitter experience of parting had to be faced again ;
the miserable evening, when I had first called her Ethel-
berta, had to be repeated. We spoke little at dinner ; after-
wards, as I had not my friends to go to this time, we left
MATED BY A WAITER. 237
Mrs. Windpeg sitting over her dessert, and paced up and
down in the little cultivated enclosure which separated the
hotel from the parade. It was a balmy evening ; the moon
was up, silvering the greenery, stretching a rippling band
across the sea, and touching Ethelberta's face to a more
marvellous fairness. The air was heavy with perfume ;
everything combined to soften my mood. Tears came into
my eyes as I thought that this was the very last respite.
Those tears seemed to purge my vision : I saw the beauty
of truth and sincerity, and felt that I could not go away
without telling her who I really was ; then, in future years,
whatever she thought of me, I, at least, could think of her
sacredly, with no cloud of falseness between me and her.
" Ethelberta ! " I said, in low trembling tones.
" Lord Everett ! " she murmured responsively.
" I have a confession to make."
She flushed and lowered her eyes.
" No, no ! " she said agitatedly ; " spare me that confes-
sion. I have heard it so often ; it is so conventional. Let
us part friends."
She looked up into my face with that frank, heavenly
glance of hers. It shook my resolution, but I recovered
myself and went on :
" It is not a conventional confession. I was not going to
say I love you."
"No?" she murmured.
Was it the tricksy play of the moon among the clouds, or
did a shade of disappointment flit across her face ? Were
her words genuine, or was she only a coquette ? I stopped
not to analyse ; I paused not to enquire ; I forgot every-
thing but the loveliness that intoxicated me.
"I I mean I was ! " I stammered awkwardly ; " I
have loved you from the first moment I saw you."
238 MATED BY A WAITER.
I strove to take her hand ; but she drew it away haughtily.
" Lord Everett, it is impossible ! Say no more."
The twang dropped from her speech in her dignity ; her
accents rang pure and sweet.
"Why not?" I cried passionately. "Why is it impossi-
ble ? You seemed to care for me."
She was silent ; at last she answered slowly :
"You are a lord ! I cannot marry a lord."
My heart gave a great leap, then I felt cold as ice.
"Because I am a lord?" I murmured wonderingly.
" Yes ! I I flirted with you at first out of pure fun
believe me, that was the truth. If I loved you now,"
her words were tremulous and almost inaudible, " it would
be right that I should be punished. We must never meet
again. Good-bye ! "
She stood still and extended her hand.
I touched it with my icy fingers.
" Oh ! if you had only let me confess just now what I
wanted to ! " I cried in agony.
"Confess what? " she said. " Have you not confessed? "
" No ! You may disbelieve me now ; but I wanted to
tell you that I am not a lord at all, that I only became one
through Jones."
Her lovely eyes dilated with surprise. I explained briefly,
confusedly.
She laughed, but there was a catch in her voice.
" Listen ! " she said hurriedly, starting pacing again ; " I,
too, have a confession to make. Jones has corrupted me
too. I'm not an heiress at all, nor even an American
just a moderately successful London actress, resting a few
weeks, and Mrs. Windpeg is only my companion and general
factotum, the widow of a drunken stage-carpenter, who left
her without resources, poor thing. But we had hardly
MATED BY A WAITER. 239
crossed the steps of the hotel, before Jones mentioned Lord
Everett was in the place, and buzzed the name so in our
ears that the idea of a wild frolic flashed into my head.
I am a great flirt, you know, and I thought that while I had
the chance I would test the belief that English lords always
fall in love with American heiresses."
" It was no test," I interrupted. " A Chinese Mandarin
would fall in love with you equally."
" I let Mrs. Windpeg tell Jones all about me imagina-
tively," she went on with a sad smile ; " I told her to call
me Harper, because Harper's Magazine came into my
mind. But it was Jones who seated us together. I will
believe that you took a genuine liking to me ; still, it was
a foolish freak on both sides, and we must both forget it as
soon as possible."
" I can never forget it ! " I said passionately ; " I love
you ; and I dare to think you care for me, though while
you fancied I was a peer you stifled the feeling that had
grown up despite you. Believe me, I understand the purity
of your motives, and love you the more for them."
She shook her head.
" Good-bye ! " she faltered.
" I will not say ' good-bye ' ! I have little to offer you,
but it includes a heart that is aching for you. There is no
reason now why we should part."
Her lips were white in the moonlight.
" I never said I loved you," she murmured.
" Not in so many words," I admitted ; " but why did
you let me call you Ethelberta? " I asked passionately.
" Because it is not my name," she answered ; and a ghost
of the old gay smile lit up the lovely features.
I stood for a moment dumbfounded. Unconsciously we had
come to a standstill under the window of the dining-room.
240 MATED BY A WAITER.
She took advantage of my consternation to say more
lightly :
" Come, let us part friends."
I dimly understood that, in some subtle way I was too
coarse to comprehend, she was ashamed of the part she had
played throughout, that she would punish herself by renuncia-
tion. I knew not what to say ; I saw the happiness of my
life fading before my eyes. She held out her hand for the
last time and I clasped it mechanically. So we stood, silent.
"What does that matter, Mrs. Windpeg? You're a real
lady, that's enough for me. It wasn't because I thought you
had money that I ventured to raise my eyes to you."
We started. It was the voice of Jones. Mrs. Windpeg
had evidently lingered too long over her dessert.
" But I tell you I have nothing at all nothing ! " came
the voice of Mrs. Windpeg.
" I don't want it. You see, I'm like you not what I
seem. This place belongs to me, only I was born and bred
a waiter in this very hotel, and I don't see why the 'ouse
shouldn't profit by the tips instead of a stranger. My son
does the show part ; but he ain't fit for anything but reading
Dickens and other low-class writers, and I feel the want of
a real lady, knowing the ways of the aristocrats. What with
Lord Porchester and Lord Everett, it looks as if this hotel is
going to be fashionable and I know there's lots of 'igh-class
wrinkles I ain't picked up yet. Only lately I was flummoxed
by a gent asking for a liqueur I'd never 'card of. You're
mixed up with tip-top swells ; I loved you from the moment
I saw you fold your first serviette. I'm a widower, you're a
widow. Let bygones be bygones. Why shouldn't we make
a match of it? "
We looked at each other and laughed ; false subtleties
were swept away by a wave of mutual merriment.
MATED BY A WAITER. 241
" ' Let bygones be bygones. Why shouldn't we make a
match of it?"' I echoed. "Jones is right." I tightened
my grasp of her hand and drew her towards me, almost with-
out resistance. "You're going to lose your companion,
you'll want another."
Her lovely face came nearer and nearer.
" Besides," I said gaily, " I understand you're out of an
engagement."
"Thanks," she said ; " I don't care for an engagement in
the Provinces, and I have sworn never to marry in the pro-
fession : they're a bad lot."
"Call me an actor?"
My lips were almost on hers.
"You played Lord Dundreary not unforgivably."
Our lips met !
" Oh, Augustus," came the voice of Mrs. Windpeg, " I
feel so faint with happiness ! "
" Loose your arms a moment, my popsy. I'll fetch you
a drop of Damtidam ! " answered the voice of Jones.
The Principal Boy.
i.
To sit out a play is a bore ; to sit out a dance demands
less patience. Even when you do it merely to prevent your
partner dancing with you, it is the less disagreeable alterna-
tive. But it sometimes makes you giddier than galoping.
Frank Redhill lost his head a well-built head com-
pletely through indulging in it; and without the head, to
look after it, the heart soon goes. He held Lucy's little
hand in his hot clasp. She wished he would get himself
gloves large enough not to split at the thumbs, and felt quite
affectionate towards the dear, untidy boy. As a woman al-
most out of her teens, she could permit herself a motherly,
feeling for a lad who had but just attained his majority.
The little thing looked very sweet in a dmure dress of
nun's veiling, which Frank would have described as "white
robes." For he was only an undergraduate. Some under-
graduates are past masters in the science and art of woman ;
but Frank was not in that set. Nor did he herd with the
athletic, who drift mainly into the unpaid magistracy, nor
with the worldly, who usually go in for the church. He was
a reading man. Only he did not stick to the curriculum,
but fed himself on the conceits of the poets, and thirsted to
redeem mankind. So he got a second-class. But this is
anticipating. Perhaps Lucy had been anticipating, too.
At any rate she went through the scene as admirably as if
242
THE PRINCIPAL BOY. 243
she had rehearsed for it. And yet it was presumably the
first time she had been asked to say : " I love you " that
wonderful little phrase, so easy to say and so hard to be-
lieve. Still, Lucy said and Frank believed it.
Not that Lucy did not share his belief. It must be for
love that she was conceding Frank her hand since her
mother objected to the match. As the nephew of a peer,
Frank could give her rather better society than she now en-
joyed, even if he could not give her that of the peer, who
had an hereditary feud with him. Of course she could not
marry him yet, he was quite too poor for that, but he was
a young man of considerable talents which are after all
gold pieces. When fame and fortune came to him, Lucy
would come and join the party. En attendant, their souls
would be wed. They kissed each other passionately, seal-
ing the contract of souls with the red sealing-wax of burning
lips. To them in Paradise entered the Guardian Angel with
flaming countenance, and drove them into the outer dark-
ness of the brilliant ball-room.
"My dear," said the Guardian Angel, who was Lucy
Grayling's mother, "there is going to be an interval, and
Mrs. Bayswater is so anxious for you to give that sweet re-
citation from Racine."
So Lucy declaimed one of Athalie's terrible speeches in a
way that enthralled those who understood it, and made
those who didn't, enthusiastic.
The applause did not seem to gratify the Guardian Angel
as much as usual. Lucy wondered how much she had seen,
and, disliking useless domestic discussion, extorted a prom-
ise of secrecy from her lover before they parted. He did
not care about keeping anything from his father especially
something of which his approval was dubious. Still, all's
fair and honourable in love or love makes it seem so.
244 THE PRINCIPAL BOY.
Frank took a solemn view of engagement, and em-
braced Lucy in his general scheme for the redemption of
mankind. He felt she was a sacred as well as a precious
charge, and he promised himself to attend to her spiritual
salvation in so far as her pure instincts needed guidance.
He directed her reading in bulky letters bearing the Oxford
post-mark. Meantime, Lucy disapproved of his neckties.
She thought he would be even nicer with a loving wife to look
after his wardrobe.
II.
When Frank achieved the indistinction of a second-class,
as prematurely revealed, he went to Canada, and became a
farm-pupil. It was not that his physique warranted the
work, but there seemed no way in the old country of mak-
ing enough money to marry Lucy (much less to redeem
mankind) on. He was suffering, too, at the moment from
a disgust with the schools, and a sentimental yearning to
" return to nature." "
The parting with Lucy was bitter, but he carried her
bright image in his heart, and wrote to her by every mail.
In Canada he did not look at a woman, as the saying goes ;
true, the opportunities were scant on the lonely log-farm.
Absence, distance, lent the last touch of idealisation and
enchantment to his conception of Lucy. She stood to him
not only for Womanhood and Purity, but for England, Home,
and Beauty. Nay, the thought of her was even Culture,
when the evening found him too worn with physical toil to
read a page of the small library he had brought with him.
He saw his way to profitable farming on his own account in
a few years' time. Then Lucy would come out to him, if
they should be too impatient to wait till he had made money
enough to go to her.
THE PRINCIPAL BOY. 245
Lucy's letters did nothing to disabuse him of his ideals or
his aims. They were charming, affectionate, and intel-
lectual. Midway, in the batch he treasured more than east-
ern jewels, the sheets began to wear mourning for Lucy's
mother. The Guardian Angel was gone whether to con-
tinue the role none could say. Frank comforted the
orphaned girl as best he could with epistolary kisses and
condolences, and hoped she would get along pleasantly with
her aunt till the necessity for that good relative vanished.
And so the correspondence went on, Lucy's mind improving
visibly under her lover's solicitous guidance. Then one day
Redhill the elder cabled that by the death of his brother
and nephew within a few days of each other, he had become
Lord Redhill, and Frank consequently heir to a fine old
peerage, and with an heir's income. Whereupon Frank re-
turned forthwith from nature to civilisation. Now he could
marry Lucy (and redeem mankind) immediately. Only he
did not tell Lucy he was coming. He could not deny him-
self (or her) the pleasure of so pleasurable a surprise.
III.
It was a cold evening in early November when Frank's
hansom drove up to the little house near Bond Street, where
Lucy's aunt resided. He had not been to see his father
yet ; Lucy's angel-face hovered before him, warming the
wintry air, and drawing him onwards towards the roof that
sheltered her. The house was new to him ; and as he
paused outside for a moment, striving to still his emotion,
his eye caught sight of a little placard in the window of
the ground floor, inscribed "Apartments." He shuddered,
a pang akin to self-reproach shot through him. Lucy's
246 THE PRINCIPAL BOY.
aunt was poor, was reduced to letting lodgings. Lucy her-
self had, perhaps, been left penniless. Delicacy had re-
strained her from alluding to her poverty in her letter.
He had taken everything too much for granted surely,
straitened as were his means, he should have proffered her
some assistance. A suspicion that he lacked worldly wis-
dom dawned upon him for the first time, as he rang the bell.
Poor little Lucy ! Well, whatever she had gone through,
the bright days were come at last. The ocean which had
severed them for so many weary moons no longer rolled be-
tween them thank God, only the panels of the street-door
divided them now. In another instant that darling head
no more the haunting elusive phantom of dream would be
upon his breast. Then as the door opened, the thought
flashed upon him that she might not be in the idea of wait-
ing a single moment longer for her turned him sick. But his
fears vanished at the encouraging expression on the face
of the maid servant who opened the door.
" Miss Gray's upstairs," she mumbled, without waiting for
him to speak. And, all intelligent reflection swamped by a
great wave of joy, he followed her up one narrow flight of
stairs, and passed eagerly into a room to which she pointed.
It was a bright, cosy room, prettily furnished, and a cheerful
fire crackled on the hearth. There were books and flowers
about, and engravings on the walls. The little round table
was laid for tea. Everything smiled " welcome." But these
details only gradually penetrated Frank's consciousness
for the moment all he saw was that She was not there.
Then he became aware of the fire, and moved involuntarily
towards it, and held his hands over it, for they were almost
numbed with the cold. Straightening himself again, he was
startled by his own white face in the glass.
He gazed at it dreamily, and beyond it towards the fold-
THE PRINCIPAL BOY. 247
ing-doors, which led into an adjoining room. His eyes
fixed themselves fascinated upon these reflected doors, and
strayed no more. It was through them that she would
come.
Suddenly a dreadful thought occurred to him. When she
came through those doors, what would be the effect of his
presence upon her? Would not the sudden shock, joyful
though it was, upset the fragile little beauty ? Had he not
even heard of people dying from joy? Why had he not
prepared her for his return, if only to the tiniest extent ?
The suspicion that he lacked worldly wisdom gained in
force. Tumultuous suggestions of retreat crossed his
mind but before he could move, the folding-doors in
the mirror flew apart, and a radiant image dashed lightly
through them. It*was a vision of dazzling splendour that
made his eyes blink a beautiful glittering figure in tights
and tinsel, the prancing prince of pantomime. For an
infinitesimal fraction of a second, Frank had the horror of
the thought that he had come into the wrong house.
"Good evening, George," the Prince cried: "I had
almost given you up."
Great God ! Was the voice, indeed, Lucy's? Frank
grasped at the mantel, sick and blind, the world tumbling
about his ears. The suspicion that he lacked worldly wis-
dom became a certainty. Slowly he turned his head to face
the waves of dazzling colour that tossed before his dizzy
eyes.
The Prince's outstretched hand dropped suddenly. A
startled shriek broke from the painted lips. The re-united
lovers stood staring half blindly at each other. More than
the Atlantic rolled between them.
Lucy broke the terrible silence.
" Brute ! "
248 THE PRINCIPAL BOY.
It was his welcome home.
"Brute?" he echoed interrogatively, in a low, hoarse
whisper.
" Brute and cad ! " said the Prince vehemently, the mu-
sical tones strident with anger. " Is this your faith, your
loyalty to sneak back home like a thief to peep through
the keyhole to see if I was a good little girl ? "
" Lucy ! Don't ! " he interrupted in anguished tones.
" As there is a heaven above us, I had no suspicion "
" But you have now," the Prince interrupted with a bitter
laugh. Neither made any attempt to touch the other,
though they were but a few inches apart. " Out with it ! "
" Lucy, I have nothing to say against you. How should
I? I know nothing. It is for you to speak. For pity's
sake tell me all. What is this masquerade?"
"This masquerade? " She touched her pink tights he
shuddered at the touch. "These are " She paused.
Why not tell the easy lie and be done with the whole busi-
ness, and marry the dear, devoted boy? But the mad
instinct of revolt and resentment swept over her in a flood
that dragged the truth from her heart and hurled it at him.
" These are the legs of Prince Prettypet. If I am lucky, I
shall stand on them in the pantomime of The Enchanted
Princess; or, Harlequin Dick Turpin, at the Oriental
Theatre. The man who has the casting of the part is
coming to see how I look."
"You have gone on the stage?"
"Yes; I couldn't live on your lectures," Prince Prettypet
said, still in the same resentful tone. " I couldn't fritter
away the little capital I had when mamma died, and then
wait for starvation. I had no useful accomplishments. I
could only recite Athalie."
" But surely your aunt "
THE PRINCIPAL BOY. 249
" Is a fiction. Had she been a fact it would have been
all the same. I had had enough of mamma. No more
leading-strings ! "
" Lucy ! And you wept over her so in your letters? "
"Crocodile's tears. Heavens, are women to have no
lives of their own?"
" Oh, why did you not write to me of your difficulties? "
he groaned. " I would have come over and fetched you
we would have borne poverty together."
" Yes," the Prince said mockingly. " ' 'E was werry good
to me, 'e was.' Do you think I could submit to government
by a prig?"
He started as if stung. The little tinselled figure, looking
taller in its swashbuckling habits, stared at him defiantly.
"Tell me," he said brokenly, "have you made a living?"
" No. If truth must be told, Lucy Gray docked at the
tail, sir hasn't made enough to keep Lucy Grayling in
theatrical costumes. I got plenty of kudos in the Provinces,
but two of my managers were bogus."
"Yes?" he said vaguely.
" No treasury, don't you know ? Ghost didn't walk. No
t>of, rhino, shiners, coin, cash, salary ! "
" Do I understand you have travelled about the country
by yourself? "
" By myself ! What, in a company ? You've picked up
Irish in America. Ha ! ha ! ha ! "
" You know what I mean, Lucy." It seemed strange to
call this new person Lucy, but " Miss Grayling " would have
sounded just as strange.
"Oh, there was sure to be a married lady with her
husband in the troupe, poor thing ! " The Prince had a
roguish twinkle in the eye. " And surely I am old enough
to take care of myself. Still, I felt you wouldn't like it.
250 THE PRINCIPAL BOY.
That's why I was anxious to get a London appearance if
only in East-end pantomime. The money's safe, and your
notices are more valuable. I only want a show to take the
town. I do hope George won't disappoint me. I thought
you were he."
" Who is George ? " he said slowly, as if in pain.
The shrill clamour of the bell answered him.
"There he is!" said the Prince joyfully. "George is
only Georgie Spanner, stage-manager of the Oriental. I
have been besieging him for two days. Bella Bright, who
had to play Prince Prettypet, has gone and eloped with the
property-man, and as soon as I heard of it, I got a letter of
introduction to Georgie Spanner, and he said I was too little,
and I said that was nonsense that I had played in bur-
lesque at Eastbourne Come in !"
"Are you at home, miss?" said the maid, putting her
head inside the door.
" Certainly, Fanny. That's Mr. Spanner I told you of "
The girl's head looked puzzled as it removed itself. " And
so he said if I would put my things on, he would try and
run down for an hour this evening, and see if I looked the
part."
" And couldn't all that be done at the theatre ? "
" Of course it could. But it's ten times more convenient
for me here. And it's very considerate of Georgie to come
all this way he's a very busy man, I can tell you."
The street-door slammed loudly.
A sudden paroxysm shook Frank's frame. " Lucy, send
this man away for God's sake." In his excitement he
came nearer, he laid his hand pleadingly upon the glittering
shoulder. The Prince trembled a little under his touch,
and stood as in silent hesitancy. The stairs creaked under
heavy footsteps.
II I'
THE STAGE-MANAGER.
261
262 THE PRINCIPAL BOY.
" Go to your room," he said more imperatively. Even in
the wreck of his ideal, it was an added bitterness to think
that limbs whose shapeliness had never even occurred to
him, should be made a public spectacle. " Put on decent
clothes."
It was the wrong chord to touch. The Prince burst into
a boisterous laugh. " Silly old MacDougall ! "
The footsteps were painfully near.
"You are mad," Frank whispered hoarsely. "You are
killing me you whom I throned as an angel of light ; you
who were the first woman in the world "
"And now I'm going to be the Principal Boy," she
laughed quietly back. " Is that you, dear old chap? Come
in, George."
The door opened Frank, disgusted, heart-broken, moved
back towards the window-curtains. A corpulent, beef-faced,
double-chinned man, with a fat cigar and a fur overcoat,
came in.
" How do, Lucy ? Cold, eh ? What, in your togs ? That's
right."
"There, you bad man ! Don't I look ripping? "
" Stunning, Lucy," he said, approaching her.
" Well, then, down on your knees, George, and apologise
for saying I was top little."
" Well, I see more of you now, he ! he ! he ! Yes, you'll
do. What swell diggings ! "
" Come to the fire. Take that easy-chair. There, that's
right, old man. Now, what is it to be ? There's tea laid
you've let it get cold, unpunctual ruffian. Perhaps you'd
like a brandy and soda better ? "
"M" yes."
She rang the bell. " So glad because there's only tea
for two, and I know my friend would prefer tea," with a
THE PRINCIPAL BOY. 253
sneering intonation. " Let me introduce you Mr. Redhill,
Mr. Spanner, you have heard of Mr. Spanner, the celebrated
author and stage-manager? "
The celebrated author and stage-manager half rose in his
easy-chair, startled, and not over-pleased. The pale-faced
rival visitor, half hidden in the curtains, inclined his head
stiffly, then moved towards the door.
" Oh, no, don't run away like that, without a cup of tea,
in this bitter weather. Mr. Spanner won't mind talking
business before you, will you, George? Such a dear old
friend, you know."
It was a merry tea-party. Lucy rattled away bewitchingly,
overpowering Mr. Spanner like an embodied brandy and
soda. The slang of the green room and the sporting papers
rolled musically off her tongue, grating on Frank's ear like
the scraping of slate pencils. He had not insight enough
to divine that she was accentuating her vulgar acquirements
to torture him. Spanner went at last for the Oriental
boards claimed him leaving behind him as nearly definite
a promise of the part as a stage-manager can ever bring him-
self to utter. Lucy accompanied him downstairs. When
she returned, Frank was still sitting as she had left him
one hand playing with the spoon in his cup, the rest of the
body lethargic, immobile. She bent over him tenderly.
" Frank ! " she whispered.
He shivered and looked up at the lovely face, daubed
with rouge and pencilled at the eyebrows with black as
for the edification of the distant " gods." He lowered his
eyes again, and said slowly : " Lucy, I have come back to
marry you. What date will be most convenient to you ? "
" You want to marry me," she echoed in low tones. " All
the same ! " A strange wonderful light came into her
eyes. The big lashes were threaded with glistening tears.
254 THE PRINCIPAL BOY.
She put her little hand caressingly upon his hair, and was
silent.
" Yes ! it is an old promise. It shall be kept."
" Ah ! " She drew her hand away with an inarticulate cry.
" Like a duty dance, but you do not love me ? "
He ignored the point. " I am rich now my father has
unexpectedly become Lord Redhill you probably heard
it!"
" You don't love me ! You can't love me ! " It sounded
like the cry of a soul in despair,
" So there's no need for either of us to earn a living."
" But you don't love me ! You only want to save me."
" Well, of course Lord Redhill wouldn't like his daughter-
in-law to be "
"The Principal Boy ha! ha! ha! But what ho!
ho ! ho ! I must laugh, Frank, old man, it is so funny
what about the Principal Boy? Do you think he'd cotton
to the idea of marrying a peer in embryo ! Not if Lucy
Gray knows it ; no, by Jove ! Why, when your coronet
came along, I should have to leave the stage, or else people
'ud be saying I couldn't act worth a cent. They'd class me
with Lady London and Lady Hansard oh, Lord ! Fancy
me on the Drury Lane bills Prince Prettypet, Lady Red-
hill. And then, great Scot, think whom they'd class you
with. Ha ! ha ! ha ! No, my boy, I'm not going to marry
a microcephalous idiot. Ho ! ho ! ho ! I wish somebody
would put all this in a farce."
" Do I understand that you wish to break off the engage-
ment ? " Frank said slowly, a note of surprise in his voice.
" You've hit it now that I hear about this peerage busi-
ness why didn't you tell me before? I'm out of all the
gossip of court circles, and it wasn't in the Era. No, I
might have redeemed my promise to a commoner, but a
THE PRINCIPAL BOY. 255
lord, ugh ! I never had your sense of duty, Frank, and must
really cry ' quits.' Now you see the value of secret engage-
ments ours is off, and nobody will be the wiser or the
worse. Now get thee to his lordship concealment, like a
worm i' the bud, no longer preying upon thy damask cheek.
I was alway sorry you had to keep it from the old buffer.
But it was for the best, wasn't it? ha! ha! it was for
the best ! Ha ! ha ! ha ! ha ! ha ! "
Frank fled down the staircase followed by long peals of
musical laughter. They followed him into the bleak night,
which had no frost for him ; but they became less musical
as they rang on, and as the terrified maid and the landlady
strove in vain to allay the hysterical tempest.
IV.
The Oriental, on Boxing Night, was like a baker's oven
for temperature, and an unopened sardine-barrel for popu-
lousness. The East-end had poured its rollicking multitudes
into the vast theatre, which seethed over with noisy vitality.
There was much traffic in ginger beer, oranges, Banbury
cakes, and " bitter." The great audience roared itself
hoarse over old choruses with new words. Lucy Gr,ay, as
Prince Prettypet, made an instant success. The mashers
of the Oriental ogled her in silent flattery. Her clear
elocution, her charming singing voice, her sprightly, dancing,
her chic, her frank vulgarity, when she " let herself go,"
took every heart captive. Every heart, that is, save one,
which was filled with sickness and anguish, and covered
with a veil of fine linen. The heir of the house of Redhill
cowered at the back of the O.P. stage-box the only place
in the house disengaged when he drove up in a mistaken
256 THE PRINCIPAL BOY.
dress-suit. It was the first time he had seen Prince Pretty-
pet since the merry tea-party, and he did not know why he
was seeing her now. He hoped she did not see him. She
pirouetted up to the front of his box pretty often during the
evening, and several times hurled ancient wheezes at the
riotous funnymen from that coign of vantage. Spoken so
near his ear, the vulgar jokes tingled through him like lashes
from a whip. Once she sang a chorus, winking in his
direction. But that was the business of the song, and im-
personal. He saw no sure signs of recognition, and was
glad.
When, during the gradual but gorgeous evolution of the
Transformation Scene, he received a note from her, he
remained glad. It ran, " The bearer will take you behind.
I have no one to see me home. Always your friend
Lucy." He went " behind," following his guide through a
confusion of coatless carpenters waving torches of blue and
green fire from the wings, and gauzy, highly coloured White -
chapel girls ensconcing themselves in uncomfortable atti-
tudes on wooden pedestals, which were mounting and
descending.
Georgie Spanner was bustling about, half crazed, amid a
hubbub perfectly inaudible from the front ; but he found
time to scowl at Frank, as that gentleman stumbled over the
pantaloon and fell against a little iron lever, whose turning
might have plunged the stage in darkness. Frank found
Lucy in a tiny cellar with whitewashed walls and a rough
counter, on which stood a tin basin and a litter of " make
up" materials. She had "changed" before he came. It
was the first time for years he had seen her in her true
womanly envelope. Assuredly she had grown far lovelier,
and her face was flushed with triumph ; otherwise it was
the old Lucy. The Prince was washed off with the paint.
THE PRINCIPAL BOY.
257
Frank's eyes filled with tears. How hard he had been on
her ! Nay, had he not misjudged her? She looked so
frail, so little, so childish, what guile could she know? It
THE ORIENTAL ON BOXING NIGHT.
was all mere surface-froth on her lips ! How narrow to set
up his life, his ideals, as models, patterns ! The poor little
thing had her own tastes, her own individuality ! How hard
she worked to earn her own living ! He bent down and
kissed her forehead, remorsefully, as one might kiss an over-
258 THE PRINCIPAL BOY.
scolded child. She drew his head down lower and kissed
him passionately on the lips. "Let us wait a little,"
she said, as he spoke of sending for a hansom. " Sloman,
the lessee, gives a little supper on the stage after the show
he'll be annoyed if I don't stay. He'll he delighted to
have you."
The pantomime had gone better than anyone had ex-
pected. It had been insufficiently rehearsed, and though
everybody had said " it'll be all right at night " in the
immemorial phrase of the profession they had said it
more automatically than confidently. Consequently every-
one was in high feather, and agreeably surprised at the
accuracy of the prophesying. Even Georgie Spanner ceased
to scowl under the genial influences of success and Sloman's
very decent champagne. The air was full of laughter and
gaiety, and everybody (except the clown) cracked jokes. The
leading ladies made themselves pleasant, and did not swear.
Everybody seemed to have acquired a new respect for Lucy,
seeing her with such a real Belgravian swell. Probably she
would soon have a theatre of her own.
It was the Prig's first excursion into Bohemia, and he
thought the natives very civil-spoken, naive, and cordial.
Frank had no doubt now that Lucy was right, that he was
a Prig to want to redeem mankind. And the conviction
that he lacked worldly wisdom was sealed for aye.
V.
So he married her.
An Odd Life.
IT was the most curious case of croup I had ever attended.
Not that there was anything unusual about the symptoms
they were so correct as to be devoid of the slightest
interest. Certainly they were not worth while being called
up for in the middle of the night. The patient it was that
attracted my attention. He was a handsome baby of one
year and nine months by name Willy Streetside with
such an expression of candour and intelligence that I was
moved to see him suffer. I sat down by his bedside, took
his poor little feverish hand, and felt the weak quick pulse,
and knew it had not much longer to beat. I put the glass
of barley and water to his lips, and he drank eagerly. He
seemed to be an orphan, in charge of a strange, silent
serving-man, apparently the only other occupant of the
luxurious and artistically furnished flat. I judged Downton
to be a man of some culture, from the latest magazines
strewn about the bedroom ; but I could not help thinking
that a female, more familiar with infantile ailments, might
have been more useful. Apathetic and torpid though I was,
from eighteen hours' continuous activity in a hundred sick-
rooms, my eyes filled with tears, and I sat for an instant,
holding the little hand, listening to the poor child's painful
breathing, and speculating on the mystery of that existence
so early recalled. All his organs were sound. But for this
accidental croup, I told myself, he might have lived till
260 AN ODD LIFE.
eighty. " Poor Willy Streetside ! " I murmured, for his
curious name clung to my memory.
Suddenly the baby turned his blue eyes full on me, and
said:
" I suppose it's all up, doctor? "
I started violently, and let go his hand. The words were
perhaps not altogether beyond the capacity of an infant ;
but the air of manly resignation with which they were
uttered was astonishing. For more reasons than one, I
hesitated.
" You need not be afraid to tell me the truth," said the
baby, with a wistful smile ; " I'm not afraid to hear it."
" Well well, you're pretty bad," I stammered.
"Ah! thank you," the child replied gratefully. "How
many hours do you give me? "
The baby's gravity took my breath away. He spoke with
an old-world courtesy and the ingenuous stateliness of an
infant prince.
" It may not be quite hopeless," I murmured.
Willy shook his head, the pretty, wan features distorted by
a quaint grimace.
" I suppose I'm too young to rally," he said quietly, and
closed his eyes.
Presently he re-opened them, and added :
" But I should have liked to live to see the Irish question
settled."
" You would? " I ejaculated, overwhelmed.
" Yes," he said, adding with a whimsical expression in the
wee blue eyes : " You mustn't think I crave for earthly im-
mortality. I use ' settled ' in a merely rough sense. My
mother was an Irish poetess, over whose songs impetuous
Celts still break their hearts and their heads."
I gazed speechless at this wonder-child, pushing the
AN ODD LIFE. 261
golden locks back from his feverish baby-brow, as if to
assure myself by touching him that he was not a phantom.
" Ah, well ! " he finished, " it doesn't matter. I have
had my day, and mustn't grumble. I scarcely thought,
when I witnessed the dissolution of the third Gladstone
Government, that I should have lived to see him Premier a
fourth time. Three doctors told me I was breaking up fast."
I began to be frightened of this extraordinary infant,
divining some wizardry behind the candid little face some
latter-day mystery of re-incarnation, esoteric Buddhism,
what-not. The child perceived my perturbation.
"You are thinking I have packed a good deal into my
short life," he said, with an amused smile. " And yet some
men will make a Gladstone bag hold as much as a port-
manteau. Gladstone has done so ; and why not I, in my
humble degree ? "
" True," I answered ; " but you cannot begin to pack
before you are born."
"You are entirely mistaken," replied the baby, "if you
think I have done anything so precocious as that."
"Then you must have lived an odd life," I said, puzzled.
" You have hit it ! " exclaimed the child, with a suspicion
of eagerness, not unmingled with surprise. "I did not
mean to tell anyone ; but since you are a man of science
and I am on the point of death, you may as well know you
have guessed the truth."
" Have I?" I said, more bewildered than ever.
" Yes. In all these years no one has suspected .it. It
has been carefully kept from outsiders. But now it would,
perhaps, be childish folly to be reticent about it. It is the
truth the plain, literal truth I have lived an odd life."
"How did it begin?" I asked, scarce knowing what I
said or what I meant.
262 AN ODD LIFE.
" You shall know all," said Willy. " I must begin before
I was born before I could begin packing, as you put it."
His breath came and went painfully. Overwrought with
curiosity as I was, I experienced a pang of compunction.
"No, no; never mind," I said; "you have not the
strength to speak much you must not waste what you
have."
" It can only cost me a few minutes of life I can spare
the time," he answered, almost peevishly.
Now that he had been strung up to speaking point, he
seemed to resent my diminished interest.
I put the glass of barley and water to his lips, and forced
him to moisten his throat.
" I can spare the time," he repeated, while an air of
grim satisfaction came over the tiny features. " I have
stolen plenty I have outwitted the arch-thief himself. I
have survived my own death."
"What ! " I gasped. "Have you already died?"
" No, no," he replied fretfully ; " I am only just going to
die. That is how I have survived my death. How dull
you are ! "
"You were going to begin at the beginning," I murmured
feebly.
" No ! What is the use of beginning at the beginning? "
this enfant terrible enquired, in the same peevish tones. " I
was going to begin before the beginning."
" Yes, yes," I said soothingly, patting his golden curls ;
"you were going to begin before you were born."
" With my mother," he said more gently. " She did not
lead a very happy life it enabled her to hymn the wrongs
of her country. Her childhood was a succession of sorrows,
her girlhood a mass of misfortunes ; and when she married
the man she loved, she found herself deserted by him a few
AN ODD LIFE. 263
months later. It was then that she first conceived the
thought that has changed my life. It came to her in a
moment of tears, as she sat over the ashes of her happiness.
From that moment the thought never left her."
There was a wild look in the baby's eyes. I began to
suspect him of premature insanity.
" What was this thought? " I murmured.
" I am coming to it. There came into her head suddenly
the refrain of a song she had learnt at school : ' Life like a
river with constant motion.' ' The river of life ! The stream
of life ! How true it is ! ' she mused. ' How much more
than mere metaphors these phrases are ! Verily, one's life
flows on towards the dark ocean of death, irresistibly, un-
restingly, willy-nilly whether swift or slow, whether long
or short whether it flows through pleasant champaigns or
dreary marshes, past romantic castled crags, or by bleak
quarries. What is the use of experience, of knowledge of
past bits of the route, when no two bits are ever really alike,
when the future course is hidden and is always a pano-
rama of surprises, when no life-stream knows what awaits it
round the corner every time it turns, when the scenery of
the source avails one nothing in one's resistless progress
towards the scenery of the mouth ? What is life but a series
of mistakes, whose fruit is wisdom, maybe, but wisdom over-
ripe? We do not pluck the fruit till it will no longer
serve our appetites. Nothing repeats itself on the stage of
existence always new situations and new follies. Experi-
entia docet. Experience teaches, indeed ; but her lesson is
that nothing can be learnt.' "
The baby paused, and reached out his wasted hand for
the glass. His pinafore and his tiny shoes on the chest of
drawers caught my eye, and moistened it with the thought
he would never don them again.
264 AN ODD LIFE.
11 As my mother brooded upon this bitter truth," he
resumed, when he had refreshed himself, "and saw how sad
an illustration of it was her own life with its sufferings and
its mistakes she could not help wishing existence had
been ordered otherwise. If we had had at least two lives,
we might profit in the second by the first. But, she told
herself, with a sigh, this was vain day-dreaming. Then sud-
denly the thought flashed upon her. Granting that more
than one life was impossible upon this planet, why should
it not be differently distributed ? Suppose, instead of flow-
ing on like a stream, one's life progressed like a London
street the odd numbers on the one side and the even on
the other, so that after doing the numbers i, 3, 5, 7, 9, n,
&c., &c., one could return and do the numbers 2, 4, 6, 8,
10, 12, &c., &c. Without craving from Providence more
than man's allotted span, what if, by a slight re-arrangement
of the years, it were possible to extort an infinitely greater
degree of happiness from one's life-time ! What if it were
possible to live the odd years, gleaning experience as well as
joys, and then to return to the even years, armed with all
the wisdom of one's age ! What if her child could enjoy
this inestimable privilege ! The thought haunted her, she
brooded on it day and night ; and when I was born, she
drew me eagerly towards her, as if to see some mark of
promise written on my forehead. But a year passed before
she dared to think her wish had found fulfilment. On the
eve of my first birthday she measured and weighed me with
intense anxiety, though pretending to herself she only wished
to keep a register of my growth. In the morning I was
more by a year's inches and pounds. I had shot up at a
bound into my third year, and manifested sudden symptoms
of walking and talking. She almost fainted with joy when
my unexpected teeth bit her finger. She could not get my
AN ODD LIFE. 265
shoes on me, nor my frock. But, although my mother had
made no preparations for my changed condition, she wel-
comed the trouble I put her to, and carefully laid aside my
useless garments, knowing I should want them again. The
neighbours noticed nothing; they thought me a big boy for
my age, and extremely precocious. When I was in my fifth
year I went on the stage as an ' infant phenomenon,' my age
being attested by my certificate of birth, though you will of
course see that I was really in my ninth. In the next few
years I made enough money to gild my mother's few declin-
ing years ; and when I retired temporarily from the boards
at the advice of my critics, it was of course with the inten-
tion of studying and returning to the stage when I was
younger. And so I advanced to manhood, skipping the
alternate years. I rejoice to say that my mother, though
she died when I was seventy-three, had the satisfaction of
knowing what felicity her unselfish aspiration had brought
into my life She told me of my strange exemption from
the common burden of continuous existence, as soon as I
had skipped into years of discretion. Not for me did Time
pass with that tragic footstep which never returns on itself;
for me he was not the irrevocable, the relentless. I regretted
my lost youth but it was not with hopeless, passionate tears,
with mutinous yearnings after the impossible ; it was as one
who waves a regretful adieu to a charming girl he will meet
again."
"Ah ! but you will not meet her again," I said softly.
" No ; but the feeling was the same. Of course,, when I
was thirty I did not know I should die before I was two. I
had no more privilege of prescience than the ordinary
mortal. But in everything else how enviable was my lot
compared to his whom every day is sweeping towards
Death, for whom no vision of renewed youth gleams behind
266 AN ODD LIFE.
the black hangings ! Oh ! the glory of growing old without
dread, with the assurance that age, which is ripening you, is
not ripening you for the Gleaner, that the years will add
wisdom without eternally subtracting the capacity for joy,
and that every tottering step is bringing you nearer, not the
Grave, but the joyous resurrection of your youth ! "
"And you have experienced that?" I cried, with envious
incredulity.
"Yes," answered the baby solemnly. "Of course I pre-
pared for the Great Change. Not that Nature did not her-
self smooth the metamorphosis. The loss of teeth, the
gradual baldness, the feeble limbs, everything pointed to
the proximity of my Second Childhood. I knew that my
odd life had not much longer to run, that at any moment
the transformation might take place and the even numbers
begin. Giving out that I was going to explore the African
deserts, and accompanied only by my faithful body-servant,
Downton, I retired to Egypt to await the great event, having
previously ordered baby-linen and the various requisites of
infantile toilette. I had at one time meditated providing
myself with parents, but ultimately concluded that they
would prove too troublesome to manage, and that it would
be better to trust myself entirely to the management of
Downton, since I had already placed myself in his power
by leaving him all my money."
" But what necessity was there for that? " I enquired.""
" Every necessity," he .replied gravely. " Do you not see
that I had to arrange all my affairs and make my will before
being born again, because afterwards I should not be of legal
age for ten years. At first I thought of leaving all my money
to myself and passing as my own child, but there would
have been difficulties. I was unmarried and seventy-seven.
Downton could easily pretend his septuagenarian master
AN ODD LIFE. 267
had died in the African deserts, but he could not so easily
patch up a marriage there. I had no option, therefore, but
to make Downton my heir, and I have never had occasion
to regret it from the day of my rebirth to this, the day of
my death. As soon as I was born we returned to England,
and I wrote my obituary and drove to the Press Association
with it. Downton took it into the office while I waited in
Fleet Street in the hansom. I can scarcely hope to convey
to you an idea of the intensity and agreeableness of my
sensations at this unprecedented epoch. The variegated
life of Fleet Street gave me the keenest joy : every sight
and every sound beautiful or sordid thrilled my nerves
to rapture. I was interested in everything. Imagine the
delicious freshness of one's second year supervening upon
the jaded sensibilities of seventy-seven. All my wide and
varied knowledge of life lay in my soul as before, but trans-
figured. Over my large experience of men and things was
shed a stream of sunshine which irradiated everything with
divine light ; every streak of cynicism faded. I had the
wisdom of an old man apd the heart of a little child. I
believed in man again, and even in woman. I shed tears
of pure ecstasy ; and when I heard a female of the lower
classes say : ' Poor little thing ! What a shame to leave it
crying in a cab ! ' I laughed aloud in glee. She exclaimed :
' Ah ! now it's laughing, my petsy-wootsy ! ' Her conversa-
tion saddened me again, and I was glad I had not burdened
myself with a mother, and that I took my milk from a bot-
tle instead of a doting nurse. And how exquisite was this
same apparently monotonous menu of milk to an epicurean
who had ruined his digestion ! I felt I was recuperating on
a vegetarian diet, and I rejoiced to think some years must
elapse before I would care for champagne or re-acquire a
taste for full-flavoured Manillas. Perhaps somewhat unrea-
268 AN ODD LIFE.
sonably, I was proud of my strength of will, which had
enabled me in one day to abandon tobacco without a pang,
and seven-course dinners without repining. I slept a good
deal, too, at this period, whereas I had previously been
greatly exercised by insomnia. But these joys of the senses
were as nothing to the joys of the intellect. An exquisite
curiosity played like a sea-breeze about my long-stagnant
soul. All my early interests revived ; worldly propositions
I had thought settled showed themselves unstable and volant ;
everything was shaken by the moving spirit of youth. The-
ology, poetry, and even metaphysics became alive ; all sorts
of unpractical questions became suddenly burning. I saw
in myself the seeds of a great thinker : a felicitous congruity
of opposite capacities that had never before met in a single
man the sobriety of age tempered by the audacity of
youth, fire and water, judgment and inspiration. I was
revolutionist and reactionary in one. I read all the new
books, and agreed with all the old."
" All you tell me only makes the pathos of your premature
death more intolerable," I said in moved accents. "You
are, like Keats and Chatterton, only an earlier edition,
an inheritor of unfulfilled renown."
The little blue eyes smiled wistfully at me.
" Not at all," said the wee rose-lips, with a quiver. " Don't
you see,. I have already dodged Death? Evidently, if I had
taken my second year in its natural order, I should have
been cut short by croup at the outset. Apparently I had
enough vital energy in me to have lasted till seventy-seven,
if I could only get over the croup. I think one ought to
be satisfied with having survived himself by thirty odd
years."
" Yes, if you put it like that, the pathos lightens," I ad-
mitted. " Of course I saw from the first that you were
AN ODD LIFE. 269
considerably in advance of your age. Did you assure your
life?" I asked, with a sudden thought.
" I did ; but by an oversight I let the policy be invalidated
by my imaginary expedition to the African deserts. Down-
ton has, however, taken out a fresh policy for my new
life."
" What a baffling complex of probabilities would be added
to Life Assurances if your way of living were to become
general ! " I observed. " Downton will probably more than
recoup himself for his first loss. Have you always been a
bachelor, by the way?" I asked.
" Yes," said the baby, with a sigh. " I missed marriage ;
it probably fell in an even year."
" Poor child ! " I cried, my eyes growing humid again.
To think, too, of that beautiful young girl, that fond wife,
waiting for him who would never come ; that innocent maiden
cheated of love and happiness because her appointed hus-
band had not lived in the other alternate series of years,
to think of this tangled tragedy moved me to fresh tears,
not a few of which were for the husband who never was.
" Nay, do not pity me," said the baby, and his tones were
hushed and low, and in his heavenly blue eyes I seemed to
read the high sorrowful wisdom of the ages ; " for, since I
have lain here on this bed of sickness with no spectacular
whirl to claim my thoughts, with four walls for my horizon,
and the agony of death in my throat, the darker side of my
dual existence has been borne in upon me. I see the
shadow cast by the sunshine of my privilege of double birth ;
I see the curse which is the obverse of the blessing my
mother's prayers brought me ; I see myself dissipating a
youth which I knew would recur, throwing away a manhood
which I knew would come again, and sinking into a sensual
senility which I knew would pass into an innocent infancy.
270 AN ODD LIFE.
I see myself rejecting the best gifts and the highest duties of
To- Day for the illusory felicities and the far-away virtues of
the Day-After-To-Morrow. I see myself passing by Love
with the reflection that I should be passing again ; putting
off Purity with the thought that I should be round that way
presently ; and waving to Duty an amicable salute of ' Ex-
pect me soon.' And in this moment of clear vision I see
not only my past, I realise what my future would be if I
lived. I see the influx of fresh feeling gradually exhausted,
overcome, ousted, and finally replaced by a satiety more
horrible than that of the septuagenarian, as I came to realise
that life for me held no surprises, no lures to curiosity, that
the future was no enchanted realm of mysterious possibil-
ities, that the white clouds revealed no seraph shapes on the
horizon, that Hope did not stand like a veiled bride with
beckoning finger, that fairies were not lurking round every
corner nor magic palaces waiting to start up at every turn.
I see life stretching before me like old ground I had been
over in my mother's image like a street one side of which
I had walked down. What could the other offer of fresh, of
delightful ? It is so rarely one side differs from the other :
a church for a public-house, a grocer's instead of a book-
shop. Conceive the horror of foreknowledge : of having no
sensations to learn and few new emotions to feel ; to have,
moreover, the enthusiasm of youth sicklied over with the
prescience of senile cynicism, and the healthy vigour of
manhood made flaccid by anticipations of the dodderings
of age ! I foresee the ever-growing dismay at the leaps
and bounds with which my youth was fleeting. I see my-
self, instead of profiting by my experience, feverishly clutch-
ing at every pleasure on my path, as a drowning man, borne
along by a torrent, snatches at every scrap of flotsam and
jetsam. I see manhood arrive only to pass away, as an
AN ODD LIFE.
271
express passes through a petty station, full speed for the
terminus. I see a panic terror close upon me with every
hurrying year at the knowledge that my hours were thirty
minutes and my months virtually fortnights, and that I was
"THE ENTHUSIASM OF YOUTH SICKLIED OVER WITH THE PRESCIENCE
OF SENILE CYNICISM."
leading the fastest life on record. Add to this the anguish
of feeling myself torn from the bosom of the wife I loved
and hurried away from the embraces of the children whose
careers it would be my solicitude to watch over. Imagine
the agony if I had been cruelly spared to my seventy-eighth
272 AN ODD LIFE.
year the agony of a condemned criminal who does not
know on what day he is to be execu "
His voice failed suddenly. He had slightly raised him-
self on his pillow in his excitement, but now his head fell
back, revealing the fatal white patches on the baby throat.
I seized his hand quickly to feel his pulse. The little palm
lay cold in mine. I started violently and sat up rigidly in
my chair.
The child was dead. Downton was sobbing at my side.
As I was writing out the certificate, an odd thought came
into my head. I scribbled what I thought an appropriate
epitaph and showed it to Downton, but he glared at me
furiously. I hastened home to bed.
My epitaph ran :
HERE LIES
WILLIAM ("WILLY") STREETSIDE,
WHO LED A DOUBLE LIFE,
AND DIED IN BLAMELESS REPUTE,
AT THE AVERAGE AGE
OF 39 YEARS.
" And in their death they were not divided. "
Cheating the Gallows.
CHAPTER I.
A CURIOUS COUPLE.
THEY say that a union of opposites makes the happiest
marriage, and perhaps it is on the same principle that men
who chum together are always so oddly assorted. You shall
find a man of letters sharing diggings with an auctioneer, and
a medical student pigging with a stockbroker's clerk. Per-
haps each thus escapes the temptation to talk " shop " in his
hours of leisure, while he supplements his own experiences
of life by his companion's.
There could not be an odder couple than Tom Peters and
Everard G. Roxdal the contrast began with their names,
and ran through the entire chapter. They had a bedroom
and a sitting-room in common, but it would not be easy to
find what else. To his landlady, worthy Mrs. Seacon, Tom
Peters's profession was a little vague, but everybody knew that
Roxdal was the manager of the City and Suburban Bank,
and it puzzled her to think why a bank manager should live
with such a seedy-looking person, who smoked clay pipes
and sipped whisky-and-water all the evening when he was at
home. For Roxdal was as spruce and erect as his fellow-
lodger was round-shouldered and shabby ; he never smoked,
and he confined himself to a small glass of claret at dinner.
273
274
CHEATING THE GALLOWS.
It is possible to live with a man and see very little of him.
Where each of the partners lives his own life in his own way,
with his own circle of friends and external amusements, days
may go by without the men having five minutes together.
Perhaps this explains why these partnerships jog along so
TOM PETERS.
EVERARD G. ROXDAL.
much more peaceably than marriages, where the chain is
drawn so much tighter, and galls the partners rather than
links them. Diverse, however, as were the hours and habits
of the chums, they often breakfasted together, and they
agreed in one thing they never stayed out at night. For
the. rest Peters sought his diversions in the company of
journalists, and frequented debating rooms, where he pro-
CHEATING THE GALLOWS. 275
pounded the most iconoclastic views ; while Roxdal had
highly respectable houses open to him in the suburbs, and
was, in fact, engaged to be married to Clara Newell, the
charming daughter of a retired corn factor, a widower with
no other child.
Clara naturally took up a good deal of Roxdal's time, and
he often dressed to go to the play with her, while Peters
stayed at home in a faded dressing-gown and loose slippers.
Mrs. Seacon liked to see gentlemen about the house in
evening dress, and made comparisons not favourable to
ASKED TWENTY-FIVE PER CENT MORE.
Peters. And this in spite of the fact that he gave her infi-
nitely less trouble than the younger man. It was Peters who
first took the apartments, and it was characteristic of his
easy-going temperament that he was so openly and naively
delighted with the view of the Thames obtainable from the
bedroom window, that Mrs. Seacon was emboldened to ask
twenty-five per cent more than she had intended. She soon
returned to her normal terms, however, when his friend
Roxdal called the next day to inspect the rooms, and over-
whelmed her with a demonstration of their numerous short-
comings. He pointed out that their being on the ground
floor was not an advantage, but a disadvantage, since they
276
CHEATING THE GALLOWS.
were nearer the noises of the street in fact, the house
being a corner one, the noises of two streets. Roxdal con-
tinued to exhibit the same finicking temperament in the
petty details of the me-
nage. His shirt fronts
were never sufficiently
starched, nor his boots
sufficiently polished.
Tom Peters, having no
regard for rigid linen,
was always good-tem-
pered and satisfied,
and never acquired the
respect of his land-
lady. He wore blue
check shirts and loose
ties even on Sundays.
It is true he did not go to church,
but slept on till Roxdal returned
from morning service, and even
then it was difficult to get him out of bed,
vjr or to make him hurry up his toilette oper-
ations. Often the mid-day meal would be
smoking on the table while Peters would be
still reading in bed, and Roxdal, with his head
thrust through the folding-doors that sepa-
rated the bedroom from the sitting-room,
" FOR HIS SHAV- would be adjuring the sluggard to arise and
ING-WATER." shake off his slumbers, and threatening to sit
down without him, lest the dinner be spoilt.
In revenge, Tom was usually up first on week-days, some-
times at such unearthly hours that Polly had not yet re-
moved the boots from outside the bedroom door, and would
CHEATING THE GALLOWS. 277
bawl down to the kitchen for his shaving-water. For Tom,
lazy and indolent as he was, shaved with the unfailing regu-
larity of a man to whom shaving has become an instinct.
If he had not kept fairly regular hours, Mrs. Seacon would
have set him down as an actor, so clean shaven was he.
Roxdal did not shave. He wore a full beard, and, being a
fine figure of a man to boot, no uneasy investor could look
upon him without being reassured as to the stability of the
bank he managed so successfully. And thus the two men
lived in an economical comradeship, all the firmer, perhaps,
for their mutual incongruities.
CHAPTER II.
A WOMAN'S INSTINCT.
IT was on a Sunday afternoon in the middle of October,
ten days after Roxdal had settled in his new rooms, that
Clara Newell paid her first visit to him there. She enjoyed
a good deal of liberty, and did not mind accepting his invi-
tation to tea. The corn factor, himself indifferently educated,
had an exaggerated sense of the value of culture, and so
Clara, who had artistic tastes without much actual talent,
had gone in for painting, and might be seen, in pretty
toilettes, copying pictures in the Museum. At one time it
looked as if she might be reduced to working seriously at
her art, for Satan, who finds mischief still for idle hands to
do, had persuaded her father to embark the fruits of years
of toil in bubble companies. However, things turned out
not so bad as they might have been, a little was saved from
the wreck, and the appearance of a suitor, in the person of
Everard G. Roxdal, ensured her a future of competence,
if not of the luxury she had been entitled to expect. She
278 CHEATING THE GALLOWS.
had a good deal of affection for Everard, who was unmis-
takably a clever man, as well as a good-looking one. The
prospect seemed fair and cloudless. Nothing presaged the
terrible storm that was about to break over these two lives.
Nothing had ever for a moment come to vex their mutual
contentment, till this Sunday afternoon. The October sky,
blue and sunny, with an Indian summer sultriness, seemed
an exact image of her life, with its aftermath of a happiness
that had once seemed blighted. ,
Everard had always been so attentive, so solicitous, that
she was as much surprised as chagrined to find that he
had apparently forgotten the appointment. Hearing her
astonished interrogation of Polly in the passage, Tom
shambled from the sitting-room in his loose slippers and his
blue check shirt, with his eternal clay pipe in his mouth,
and informed her that Roxdal had gone out suddenly earlier
in the afternoon.
" G-g-one out?" stammered poor Clara, all confused.
"But he asked me to come to tea."
" Oh, you're Miss Newell, I suppose," said Tom.
"Yes, I am Miss Newell."
"He has told me a great deal about you, but I wasn't
able honestly to congratulate him on his choice till now."
Clara blushed uneasily under the compliment, and under
the ardour of his admiring gaze. Instinctively she distrusted
the man. The very first tones of his deep bass voice gave
her a peculiar shudder. And then his impoliteness in
smoking that vile clay was so gratuitous.
"Oh, then you must be Mr. Peters," she said in return.
" He has often spoken to me of you."
" Ah ! " said Tom laughingly, " I suppose he's told you
all my vices. That accounts for your not being surprised
at my Sunday attire."
CHEATING THE GALLOWS. 279
She smiled a little, showing a row of pearly teeth.
Everard ascribes to you all the virtues," she said.
" Now that's what I call a friend ! " he cried ecstatically.
But won't you come in ? He must be back in a moment.
" TOM SHAMBLED FROM THE SITTING-ROOM.
He surely would not break an appointment with you' 1
The admiration latent in the accentuation of the last pro-
noun was almost offensive.
She shook her head. She had a just grievance against
Everard, and would punish him by going away indignantly.
" Do let me give you a cup of tea," Tom pleaded. "You
280 CHEATING THE GALLOWS.
must be awfully thirsty this sultry weather. There ! I will
make a bargain with you ! If you will come in now, I
promise to clear out the moment Everard returns, and not
spoil your tete-a-tete" But Clara was obstinate ; she did
not at all relish this man's society, and besides, she was
not going to throw away her grievance against Everard. " I
know Everard will slang me dreadfully when he comes in if
I let you go," Tom urged. "Tell me at least where he can
find you."
" I am going to take the 'bus at Charing Cross, and I'm
going straight home," Clara announced determinedly. She
put up her parasol in a pet, and went up the street into the
Strand. A cold shadow seemed to have fallen over all
things. But just as she was getting into the 'bus, a hansom
dashed down Trafalgar Square, and a well-known voice
hailed her. The hansom stopped, and Everard got out and
held out his hand.
" I'm so glad you're a bit late," he said. " I was called
out unexpectedly, and have been trying to rush back in
time. You wouldn't have found me if you had been
punctual. But I thought," he added, laughing, " I could
rely on you as a woman."
" I was punctual," Clara said angrily. " I was not getting
out of this 'bus, as you seem to imagine, but into it, and
was going home."
" My darling ! " he cried remorsefully. " A thousand
apologies." The regret on his handsome face soothed her.
He took the rose he was wearing in the buttonhole of his
fashionably cut coat and gave it to her.
"Why were you so cruel?" he murmured, as she nestled
against him in the hansom. "Think of my despair if I
had come home to hear you had come and gone. Why
didn't you wait a moment?"
CHEATING THE GALLOWS.
281
A shudder traversed her frame. " Not with that man,
Peters ! " she murmured.
" Not with that man, Peters ! " he echoed sharply.
" What is the matter with Peters? "
'SHE NESTLED AGAINST HIM.
" I don't know," she said. " I don't like him."
"Clara," he said, half sternly, half cajolingly, "I thought
you were above these feminine weaknesses ; you are
punctual, strive also to be reasonable. Tom is my best
friend. From boyhood we have been always together.
282 CHEATING THE GALLOWS.
There is nothing Tom would not do for me, or I for Tom.
You must like him, Clara; you must, if only for my sake."
"I'll try," Clara promised, and then he kissed her in
gratitude and broad daylight.
"You'll be very nice to him at tea, won't you?" he said
anxiously. " I shouldn't like you two to be bad friends."
" I don't want to be bad friends," Clara protested ; " only
the moment I saw him a strange repulsion and mistrust
came over me."
"You are quite wrong about him quite wrong," 'he
assured her earnestly. " When you know him better, you'll
find him the best of fellows. Oh, I know," he said sud-
denly, " I suppose he was very untidy, and you women go
so much by appearances ! "
" Not at all," Clara retorted. " Tis you men who go by
appearances."
"Yes, you do. That's why you care for me," he said,
smiling.
She assured him it wasn't, and she didn't care for him so
much as he plumed himself, but he smiled on. His smile
died away, however, when he entered his rooms and found
Tom nowhere.
" I daresay you've made him run about hunting for me,"
he grumbled.
" Perhaps he knew I'd come back, and went away to
leave us together," she answered. "He said he would
when you came."
" And yet you say you don't like him ! "
She smiled reassuringly. Inwardly, however, she felt
pleased at the man's absence.
CHEATING THE GALLOWS. 283
CHAPTER III.
POLLY RECEIVES A PROPOSAL.
IF Clara Newell could have seen Tom Peters carrying on
with Polly in the passage, she might have felt justified in
her prejudice against him. It must be confessed, though,
that Everard also carried on with Polly. Alas ! it is to be
feared that men are much of a muchness where women are
concerned; shabby men and smart men, bank managers
and journalists, bachelors and semi-detached bachelors.
Perhaps it was a mistake after all to say the chums had
nothing patently in common. Everard, I am afraid, kissed
Polly rather more often than Clara, and although it was
because he respected her less, the reason would perhaps
not have been sufficiently consoling to his affianced wife.
For Polly was pretty, especially on alternate Sunday after-
noons, and she liked to receive the homage of real gentle-
men, setting her white cap at all indifferently. Thus, just
before Clara knocked on that memorable Sunday afternoon,
Polly, being confined to the house by the unwritten code
regulating the lives of servants, was amusing herself by
flirting with Peters.
"You are fond of me a little bit," the graceless Tom
whispered, "aren't you?"
" You know I am, sir," Polly replied.
"You don't care for anyone else in the house?"
"Oh no, sir. I wonder how it is, sir?" Polly replied
ingenuously.
And that very evening, when Clara was gone and Tom
still out, Polly turned without the faintest atom of scrupu-
losity, or even jealousy, to the more fascinating Roxdal.
284
CHEATING THE GALLOWS.
*' V
If it would seem at first sight that Everard had less excuse
for such frivolity than his friend, perhaps the seriousness he
showed in this interview may throw a different light upon
the complex character of the man.
"You're quite sure you don't
care for anyone but me?" he
asked earnestly.
Of course not, sir ! " Polly re-
plied indignantly.
"How could I?"
"But you care
for that soldier I
saw you out with
last Sunday?"
"Oh no, sir, he's
only my young
man," she said
apologetically.
"Would you
give him up ? " he
hissed suddenly.
Polly's pretty
face took a look
of terror. "I
couldn't, sir ! He'd
kill me ! He's such
a jealous brute,
you've no idea."
"Yes, but sup-
pose I took you
away from here?" he whispered eagerly. "Somewhere
where he couldn't find you South America, Africa, some-
where thousands of miles across the seas."
'CARRYING ON WITH
POLLY."
CHEATING THE GALLOWS. 285
" Oh, sir, you frighten me ! " whispered Polly, cowering
before his ardent eyes, which shone in the dimly lit passage.
" Would you come with me ? " he hissed. She did not
answer; she shook herself free and ran into the kitchen,
trembling with a vague fear.
CHAPTER IV.
THE CRASH.
ONE morning, earlier than his earliest hour of demanding
his shaving-water, Tom rang the bell violently and asked the
alarmed Polly what had become of Mr. Roxdal.
" How should I know, sir? " she gasped. " Ain't he been
in, sir? "
"Apparently not," Tom answered anxiously. "He never
remains out. We have been here three weeks now, and I
can't recall a single night he hasn't been home before
twelve. I can't make it out." All enquiries proved futile.
Mrs. Seacon reminded him of the thick fog that had come on
suddenly the night before.
" What fog? " asked Tom.
" Lord ! didn't you notice it, sir?"
" No, I came in early, smoked, read, and went to bed
about eleven. I never thought of looking out of the window."
" It began about ten," said Mrs. Seacon, " and got thicker
and thicker. I couldn't see the lights of the river from my
bedroom. The poor gentleman has been and gone and
walked into the water." She began to whimper.
" Nonsense, nonsense," said Tom, though his expression
belied his words. " At the worst I should think he couldn't
find his way home, and couldn't get a cab, so put up for the
286
CHEATING THE GALLOWS.
night at some hotel. I daresay it will be all right." He
began to whistle as if in restored cheerfulness. At eight
o'clock there came a letter for Roxdal, marked "imme-
diate," but as he did
not turn up for break-
fast, Tom went round
personally to the City
and Suburban Bank.
He waited half-an-
hour there, but the
manager did not make
his appearance. Then
he left the letter with
the cashier and went
away with anxious
countenance.
That afternoon it
was all over London
that the manager of
the City and Subur-
ban had disappeared,
and that many thou-
sand pounds of gold
and notes had disap-
peared with him.
"SCOTLAND YARD OPENED THE LETTER." Scotland Yard
opened the letter
marked " immediate," and noted that there had been a
delay in its delivery, for the address had been obscure, and
an official alteration had been made. It was written in a
feminine hand and said : " On second thoughts I cannot
accompany you. Do not try to see me again. Forget me.
I shall never forget you."
CHEATING THE GALLOWS. 287
There was no signature.
Clara Newell, distracted, disclaimed all knowledge of this
letter. Polly deposed that the fugitive had proposed flight
to her, and the routes to Africa and South America were
especially watched. Some months passed without result.
Tom Peters went about overwhelmed with grief and aston-
ishment. The police took possession of all the missing
man's effects. Gradually the hue and cry dwindled, died.
CHAPTER V.
FAITH AND UNFAITH.
" AT last we meet ! " cried Tom Peters, while his face lit
up in joy. "How are you; dear Miss Newell?" Clara
greeted him coldly. Her face had an abiding pallor now.
Her lover's flight and shame had prostrated her for weeks.
Her soul was the arena of contending instincts. Alone of
all the world she still believed in Everard's innocence, felt
that there was something more than met the eye, divined
some devilish mystery behind it all. And yet that damning
letter from the anonymous lady shook her sadly. Then,
too, there was the deposition of Polly. When she heard
Peters's voice accosting her all her old repugnance resurged.
It flashed upon her that this man Roxdal's boon com-
panion must know far more than he had told to the
police. She remembered how Everard had spoken of him,
with what affection and confidence ! Was it likely he was
utterly ignorant of Everard's movements? Mastering her
repugnance, she held out her hand. It might be well to
keep in touch with him ; he was possibly the clue to the
mystery. She noticed he was dressed a shade more trimly,
CHEATING THE GALLOWS.
and was smoking a meerschaum. He walked along at her
side, making no offer to put his pipe out.
" You have not heard from Everard ? " he asked. She
flushed. "Do you think I'm an accessory after the fact?"
she cried.
" No, no," he said soothingly. " Pardon me, I was think-
ing he might have written giving no exact address, of
course. Men do sometimes dare to write thus to women.
But, of course, he knows you too well you would have
put the police on his track."
" Certainly," she exclaimed indignantly. " Even if he is
innocent he must face the charge."
" Do you still entertain the possibility of his innocence ? "
" I do," she said boldly, and looked him full in the face.
His eyelids drooped with a quiver. " Don't you? "
" I have hoped against hope," he replied, in a voice fal-
tering with emotion. " Poor old Everard ! But I am
afraid there is no room
for doubt. Oh, this
wicked curse of money
tempting the noblest
and the best of us."
The weeks rolled on.
Gradually she found
herself seeing more and
more of Tom Peters,
and gradually, strange
to say, he grew less re-
pulsive. From the talks
they had together, she began to see that there was really no
reason to put faith in Everard ; his criminality, his faithless-
ness, were too flagrant. Gradually she grew ashamed of her
early mistrust of Peters ; remorse bred esteem, and esteem
: SHE DID NOT REPULSE HIM."
CHEATING THE GALLOWS.
289
ultimately ripened into feelings so warm, that when Tom
gave freer vent to the love that had been visible to Clara
from the first, she did not repulse him.
It is only in books that love lives for ever. Clara, so her
father thought, showed herself a sensible girl in plucking
out an unworthy affection and casting it from her heart.
He invited the new lover to his house, and took to him at
once. Roxdal's somewhat supercilious manner had always
WITH TOM THE OLD MAN GOT ON
MUCH BETTER."
jarred upon the unsophisticated corn factor. With Tom the
old man got on much better. While evidently quite as well
informed and cultured as his whilom friend, Tom knew how
to impart his superior knowledge with the accent on the
knowledge rather than on the superiority, while he had
the air of gaining much information in return. Those who
are most conscious of defects of early education are most
resentful of other people sharing their consciousness. More-
over, Tom's bonhomie was far more to the old fellow's liking
than the studied politeness of his predecessor, so that on the
whole Tom made more of a conquest of the father than of
the daughter. Nevertheless, Clara was by no means unre-
290 CHEATING THE GALLOWS.
sponsive to Tom's affection, and when, after one of his
visits to the house, the old man kissed her fondly and spoke
of the happy turn things had taken, and how, for the second
time in their lives, things had mended when they seemed at
their blackest, her heart swelled with a gush of gratitude
and joy and tenderness, and she fell sobbing into her father's
arms.
Tom calculated that he made a clear five hundred a year
by occasional journalism, besides possessing some profitable
investments which he had inherited from his mother, so that
there was no reason for delaying the marriage. It was fixed
for May-day, and the honeymoon was to be spent in Italy.
CHAPTER VI.
THE DREAM AND THE AWAKENING.
BUT Clara was not destined to happiness. From the
moment she had promised herself to her first love's friend,
old memories began to rise up and reproach her. Strange
thoughts stirred in the depths of her soul, and in the silent
watches of the night she seemed to hear Everard's accents,
charged with grief and upbraiding. Her uneasiness in-
creased as her wedding-day drew near. One night, after
a pleasant afternoon spent in being rowed by Tom among
the upper reaches of the Thames, she retired to rest full
of vague forebodings. And she dreamt a terrible dream.
The dripping form of Everard stood by her bedside, staring
at her with ghastly eyes. Had he been drowned on the
passage to his land of exile? Frozen with horror, she put
the question.
" I have never left England ! " the vision answered.
CHEATING THE GALLOWS. 291
Her tongue clove to the roof of her mouth.
"Never left England?" she repeated, in tones which did
not seem to be hers.
The wraith's stony eyes stared on, but there was silence.
" Where have you been then? " she asked in her dream.
" Very near you," came the answer.
" There has been foul play then ! " she shrieked.
The phantom shook its head in doleful assent.
" I knew it ! " she shrieked. " Tom Peters Tom Peters
has done away with you. Is it not he ? Speak ! "
" Yes, it is he Tom Peters whom I loved more than
all the world."
Even in the terrible oppression of the dream she could
not resist saying, woman-like :
" Did I not warn you against him? "
The phantom stared on silently and made no reply.
" But what was his motive ? " she asked at length.
" Love of gold and you. And you are giving yourself
to him," it said sternly.
" No, no, Everard ! I will not ! I will not ! I swear it !
Forgive me ! "
The spirit shook its head sceptically.
" You love him. Women are false as false as men."
She strove to protest again, but her tongue refused its
office.
" If you marry him, I shall always be with you ! Be-
ware ! "
The dripping figure vanished as suddenly as it came, and
Clara awoke in a cold perspiration. Oh, it was horrible !
The man she had learnt to love, the murderer of the man
she had learnt to forget ! How her original prejudice had
been justified ! Distracted, shaken to her depths, she would
not take counsel even of her father, but informed the police
292
CHEATING THE GALLOWS.
of her suspicions. A raid was made on Tom's rooms, and
lo ! the stolen notes were discovered in a huge bundle.
It was found that he had several banking accounts, with a
large, recently deposited amount in each bank. Tom was
arrested. Attention was now concentrated on the corpses
washed up by the river. It was not long before the body
of Roxdal came to shore, the face distorted almost beyond
" IDENTIFIED THE BODY."
recognition by long immersion, but the clothes patently his,
and a pocket-book in the breast-pocket removing the last
doubt. Mrs. Seacon and Polly and Clara Newell all identi-
fied the body. Both juries returned a verdict of murder
against Tom Peters, the recital of Clara's dream producing
a unique impression in the court and throughout the country,
especially in theological and theosophical circles. The the-
ory of the prosecution was that Roxdal had brought home
THE CORPSE WASHED UP BY THE RIVER.
293
294 CHEATING THE GALLOWS.
the money, whether to fly alone or to divide it, or whether,
even for some innocent purpose, as Clara believed, was
immaterial ; that Peters determined to have it all, that he
had gone out for a walk with the deceased, and, taking
advantage of the fog, had pushed him into the river, and
that he was further, impelled to the crime by love for Clara
Newell, as was evident from his subsequent relations with
her. The judge put on the black cap. Tom Peters was
duly hung by the neck till he was dead.
CHAPTER VII.
BRIEF RESUME OF THE CULPRIT'S CONFESSION.
WHEN you all read this I shall be dead and laughing at
you. I have been hung for my own murder. I am Everard
G. Roxdal. I am also Tom Peters. We two were one.
When I was a young man my moustache and beard wouldn't
come. I bought false ones to improve my appearance.
One day, after I had become manager of the City and
Suburban Bank, I took off my beard and moustache at
home, and then the thought crossed my mind that nobody
would know me without them. I was another man. In-
stantly it flashed upon me that if I ran away from the Bank,
that other man could be left in London, while the police
were scouring the world for a non-existent fugitive. But
this was only the crude germ of the idea. Slowly I ma-
tured my plan. The man who was going to be left in
London must be known to a circle of acquaintance before-
hand. It would be easy enough to masquerade in the
evenings in my beardless condition, with other disguises of
dress and voice. But this was not brilliant enough. I con-
CHEATING THE GALLOWS. 296
ceived the idea of living with him. It was Box and Cox
reversed. We shared rooms at Mrs. Seacon's. It was a
great strain, but it was only for a few weeks. I had trick
clothes in my bedroom like those of quick-change artistes ;
in a moment I could pass from Roxdal to Peters and from
Peters to Roxdal. Polly had to clean two pairs of boots a
morning, cook two dinners, &c., &c. She and Mrs. Seacon
saw one or the other of us every moment ; it never dawned
upon them they never saw us both together. At meals I
would not be interrupted, ate off two plates, and conversed
with my friend in loud tones. A slight ventriloquial gift
enabled me to hold audible conversations with him when he
was supposed to be in the bedroom. At other times we
dined at different hours. On Sundays he was supposed to
be asleep when I was in church. There is no landlady in
the world to whom the idea would have occurred that one
man was troubling himself to be two (and to pay for two,
including washing) . I worked up the idea of Roxdal's flight,
asked Polly to go with me, manufactured that feminine letter
that arrived on the morning of my disappearance. As Tom
Peters I mixed with a journalistic set. I had another room
where I kept the gold and notes till I mistakenly thought the
thing had blown over. Unfortunately, returning from here
on the night of my disappearance, with Roxdal's clothes in
a bundle I intended to drop into the river, it was stolen from
me in the fog, and the man into whose possession it ulti-
mately came appears to have committed suicide, so that
his body dressed in my clothes was taken for mine. What,
perhaps, ruined me was my desire to keep Clara's love, and
to transfer it to the survivor. Everard told her I was the
best of fellows. Once married to her, I would not have had
much fear. Even if she had discovered the trick, a wife
cannot give evidence against her husband, and often does
296
CHEATING THE GALLOWS.
not want to. I made none of the usual slips, but no man
can guard against a girl's nightmare after a day up the river
and a supper at the Star and Garter. I might have told the
judge he was an ass, but then I should have had penal servi-
tude for bank robbery, and that is worse than death. The
only thing that puzzles me, though, is whether the law has
committed murder or I suicide. What is certain is that I
have cheated the gallows.
Santa Clans.
A STORY FOR THE NURSERY.
ALTHOUGH Bob was asleep on the doorstep the children in
the passage talked so loudly that they woke him up. They
did not mean to do it, for they were nice, clean, handsome
children. Bob was always pretty dirty, so nobody knew if
he was pretty clean. He was not a dog, though you might
think so from his name and the way he was treated. No-
body cared for Bob except Tommy whom he could fight
one-hand. The lucky nice clean children had jam to lick,
but Bob had only Tommy. Poor Tommy !
Bob sat up on his stony doorstep, drawing his rags around
him. His toes were freezing. When you have no boots it
is awkward to stamp your feet. That is why they are so
cold. Bob's idea of heaven was a place with a fire in
it. He lived before Free Education and his ideas were
mixed.
Bob heard the children inside talking about Santa Glaus
and the presents they expected. Bob gathered that he was
a kind-hearted old gentleman, and he thought to himself:
" If I could find out Santa Claus's address, I'd go and arx
'im for some presents too." So he waited outside, shiver-
ing, till a pretty little girl and boy came out, when he said
to them : " Please, can you tell me where Santa Glaus
lives?"
297
298 SANTA CLAUS.
The little girl and boy drew back when he spoke to them,
because they had strict orders to keep their pinafores clean.
But when they heard his strange question, they looked at
each other with large eyes. Then their pretty faces filled
with smiling sunshine, and they said : " He lives in the sky.
He is a spirit."
Bob's face fell. " Oh, then I carn't call upon 'im," he
said. " But 'ow is it / never gets no presents like I 'ears
yer say you does ? "
" Perhaps you are not a good child," said the little girl
gravely.
"Yes, look how you've torn your clothes," said the little
boy reprovingly.
" Well, but 'ow is you goin' to get presents from the sky ? "
" We hang up our stockings to-night, just before Christ-
mas, and in the night Santa Glaus fills them," they explained,
and just then the maid came out and led them away.
Now Bob understood. He had never had any stockings
in his life. He felt mad to think how much else he had
missed through the want of a pair. If he could only get a
pair of stockings to hang up, he might be a rich boy and
dine off bread and treacle. He wandered through the courts
and alleys looking for stockings in the gutters and dustbins.
They were not there. Old boots were to be found in abun-
dance though not in couples (which was odd) ; but Bob
soon discovered that people never throw away their stock-
ings. At last he plucked up courage and begged from house
to house, but nobody had a pair to spare. What becomes
of all the old stockings ? Not everybody hoards treasure in
them. Bob met plenty of kind hearts; they offered him
bread when he asked for a stocking.
At last, weary and footsore, he returned to his doorstep
and pondered. He wondered if he could cheat Santa Claus
SANTA CLAUS. 299
by making a pair out of a piece of newspaper he had picked
up. But perhaps Mr. Glaus was particular about the mate-
rial and admitted nothing under cotton. He thought of
stepping deeply into the mud and caking a pair, but then
he could only remove them at night by brushing them off in
little pieces ; he feared they would stick too tight to come
off whole. He also thought of painting his calves with
stripes from "wet paint," on the off chance that Mr. Glaus
would drop the presents carelessly down along his legs.
But he concluded that if Mr. Glaus lived in the sky he could
look down and see all he was doing. So he began to cry
instead.
"What are you crying about?" said a quavering voice,
and Bob, startled, became aware of a wretched old creature
dining on the doorstep at his side.
" I ain't got no stockings," he sobbed in answer.
" Well, I'll give you mine," said his neighbour.
Bob hesitated. The poor old woman looked so broken-
down herself, it seemed mean to accept her offer.
"Won't you be cold?" he asked timidly.
" I shan't be warmer," mumbled the old woman. " But
then you will."
" No, I won't have them, thank you kindly, mum," said
Bob stoutly.
" Then I'll tell you what to do," said the old woman, who
was really a fairy, though she had lost both wings they
had been amputated in a surgical operation. " It's easy
enough to get stockings if you only know how. Run away
now and pick out any person you meet and say, ' I wish that
person's stockings were on my feet.' You can only wish
once, so be careful, especially, not to wish for a pair of blue
stockings, as they won't suit you."
She grinned and vanished. Bob jumped up and was
AN OLD WOMAN DINING ON THE DOORSTEP.
300
SANTA CLAUS. 301
about to wish off the stockings of the first man he met, when
a horrible thought struck him. The man had nice clothes
and looked rich, but what proof was there he had stockings
on ? Bob really could not afford to risk wasting his wish.
He walked about and looked at all the people the men
with their long trousers, the women with their trailing skirts ;
and the more he walked, the more grew his doubt and his
agony. A terrible scepticism of humanity seized him. They
looked very prim and demure without, these men and
women, with their varnished boots and their satin gowns,
but what if they were all hypocrites, walking about without
stockings ! Night came on. Half distracted by distrust of
his kind, he wandered on to the docks, and there to his joy
he saw people coming off a steamer by a narrow plank.
As they walked the ladies lifted up their skirts so as not to
tumble over them, and he caught several glimpses of dainty
stockings. At last he selected a lady with very broad stock-
ings, that looked as if they would hold lots of Mr. Claus's
presents, and wished. Instantly he felt very funny about
the feet, and the lady wobbled about so in her big boots
that she overbalanced herself and fell into the water and
was drowned.
Bob ran back to his doorstep, and when it was dark
slipped off his stockings carefully and hung them up on the
knocker. And sure enough ! in the morning they were
full of fine cigars and Spanish lace. Bob sold the lace for
a penny, but he kept the cigars and smoked the first with
his penn'uth of Christmas plum-duff.
Moral: England expects every man to pay his duty.
A Rose of the Ghetto.
ONE day it occurred to Leibel that he ought to get married.
He went to Sugarman the Shadchan forthwith.
" I have the very thing for you," said the great marriage-
broker.
" Is she pretty ? " asked Leibel.
" Her father has a boot and shoe warehouse," replied
Sugarman enthusiastically.
"Then there ought to be a dowry with her," said Leibel
eagerly.
" Certainly a dowry ! A fine man like you ! "
" How much do you think it would be ? "
" Of course it is not a large warehouse ; but then you
could get your boots at trade price, and your wife's, perhaps,
for the cost of the leather."
"When could I see her?"
" I will arrange for you to call next Sabbath afternoon."
" You won't charge me more than a sovereign? "
" Not a groschen more ! Such a pious maiden ! I'm
sure you will be happy. She has so much way-of-the-
country [breeding]. And, of course, five per cent on the
dowry?"
" H'm ! Well, I don't mind ! " " Perhaps they won't
give a dowry," he thought, with a consolatory sense of out-
witting the Shadchan.
On the Saturday Leibel went to see the damsel, and on
the Sunday he went to see Sugarman the Shadchan.
302
A ROSE OF THE GHETTO. 303
" But your maiden squints ! " he cried resentfully.
" An excellent thing ! " said Sugarman. " A wife who
squints can never look her husband straight in the face and
overwhelm him. Who would quail before a woman with
asquint?"
" I could endure the squint," went on Leibel dubiously,
" but she also stammers."
" Well, what is better, in the event of a quarrel ? The
difficulty she has in talking will keep her far more silent
than most wives. You had best secure her while you have
the chance."
" But she halts on the left leg," cried Leibel, exasperated.
" Gott in Himmel! Do you mean to say you do not see
what an advantage it is to have a wife unable to accompany
you in all your goings? "
Leibel lost patience.
" Why, the girl is a hunchback ! " he protested furiously.
" My dear Leibel," said the marriage-broker, deprecat-
ingly shrugging his shoulders and spreading out his palms.
" You can't expect perfection ! "
Nevertheless, Leibel persisted in his unreasonable attitude.
He accused Sugarman of wasting his time, of making a fool
of him.
" A fool of you ! " echoed the Shadchan indignantly,
" when I give you a chance of a boot and shoe manu-
facturer's daughter. You will make a fool of yourself if
you refuse. I daresay her dowry would be enough to set
you up as a master-tailor. At present you are compelled
to slave away as a cutter for thirty shillings a week. It is
most unjust. If you only had a few machines you would
be able to employ your own cutters. And they can be got
so cheap nowadays."
This gave Leibel pause, and he departed without having
304 A ROSE OF THE G/fETTO.
definitely broken the negotiations. His whole week was
befogged by doubt, his work became uncertain, his chalk-
marks lacked their usual decision, and he did not always
cut his coat according to his cloth. His aberrations became
so marked that pretty Rose Green, the sweater's eldest
daughter, who managed a machine in the same room,
divined, with all a woman's intuition, that he was in love.
"What is the matter?" she said in rallying Yiddish, when
they were taking their lunch of bread and cheese and
ginger-beer, amid the clatter of machines, whose serfs had
not yet knocked off work.
"They are proposing me a match," he answered sullenly.
" A match ! " ejaculated Rose. " Thou ! " She had
worked by his side for years, and familiarity bred the
second person singular. Leibel nodded his head, and put
a mouthful of Dutch cheese into it.
" With whom? " asked Rose. Somehow he felt ashamed.
He gurgled the answer into the stone ginger-beer bottle,
which he put to his thirsty lips.
" With Leah Volcovitch ! "
" Leah Volcovitch ! " gasped Rose. " Leah, the boot
and shoe manufacturer's daughter? "
Leibel hung his head he scarce knew why. He did
not dare meet her gaze. His droop said "Yes." There
was a long pause.
"And why dost thou not have her? " said Rose. It was
more than an enquiry. There was contempt in it, and
perhaps even pique.
Leibel did not reply. The embarrassing silence reigned
again, and reigned long. Rose broke it at last.
" Is it that thou likest me better? " she asked.
Leibel seemed to see a ball of lightning in the air; it
burst, and he felt the electric current strike right through
A XOSE OF THE GHETTO. 305
his heart. The shock threw his head up with a jerk, so that
his eyes gazed into a face whose beauty and tenderness
were revealed to him for the first time. The face of his old
acquaintance had vanished this was a cajoling, coquettish,
smiling face, suggesting undreamed-of things.
" Nu, yes," he replied, without perceptible pause.
" Nu, good ! " she rejoined as quickly.
And in the ecstasy of that moment of mutual under-
standing Leibel forgot to wonder why he had never thought
of Rose before. Afterwards he remembered that she had
always been his social superior.
The situation seemed too dreamlike for explanation to
the room just yet. Leibel lovingly passed the bottle of
ginger- beer and Rose took a sip, with a beautiful air of
plighting troth, understood only of those two. When
Leibel quaffed the remnant it intoxicated him. The relics
of the bread and cheese were the ambrosia to this nectar.
They did not dare kiss the suddenness of it all left them
bashful, and the smack of lips would have been like a
cannon-peal announcing their engagement. There was a
subtler sweetness in this sense of a secret, apart from the
fact that neither cared to break the news to the master-
tailor a stern little old man. Leibel's chalk-marks con-
tinued indecisive that afternoon ; which shows how correctly
Rose had connected them with love.
Before he left that night Rose said to him : " Art thou
sure thou wouldst not rather have Leah Volcovitch?"
"Not for all the boots and shoes in the world," replied
Leibel vehemently.
" And I," protested Rose, " would rather go without my
own than without thee."
The landing outside the workshop was so badly lighted
that their lips came together in the darkness.
306 A ROSE OF THE GHETTO.
" Nay, nay, thou must not yet," said Rose. " Thou art
still courting Leah Volcovitch. For aught thou knowest,
Sugarman the Shadchan may have entangled thee beyond
redemption."
" Not so," asserted Leibel. " I have only seen the maiden
once."
"Yes. But Sugarman has seen her father several times,"
persisted Rose. " For so misshapen a maiden his com-
mission would be large. Thou must go to Sugarman to-
night, and tell him that thou canst not find it in thy heart
to go on with the match."
" Kiss me, and I will go," pleaded Leibel.
" Go, and I will kiss thee," said Rose resolutely.
"And when shall we tell thy father? " he asked, pressing
her hand, as the next best thing to her lips.
" As soon as thou art free from Leah."
" But will he consent? "
" He will not be glad," said Rose frankly. " But after
mother's death peace be upon her the rule passed
from her hands into mine."
" Ah, that is well," said Leibel. He was a superficial thinker.
Leibel found Sugarman at supper. The great Shadchan
offered him a chair, but nothing else. Hospitality was
associated in his mind with special occasions only, and
involved lemonade and " stuffed monkeys."
He was very put out almost to the point of indigestion
to hear of LeibePs final determination, and plied him
with reproachful enquiries.
"You don't mean to say that you give up a boot and
shoe manufacturer merely because his daughter has round
shoulders ! " he exclaimed incredulously.
" It is more than round shoulders it is a hump ! r> cried
Leibel.
A ROSE OF THE GHETTO. 307
" And suppose ? See how much better off you will be
when you get your own machines ! We do not refuse to
let camels carry our burdens because they have humps."
" Ah, but a wife is not a camel," said Leibel, with a sage
air.
" And a cutter is not a master-tailor," retorted Sugarman.
" Enough, enough ! " cried Leibel. " I tell you I would
not have her if she were a machine warehouse."
"There sticks something behind," persisted Sugarman,
unconvinced.
Leibel shook his head. " Only her hump," he said, with
a flash of humour.
" Moses Mendelssohn had a hump," expostulated Sugar-
man reproachfully.
"Yes, but he was a heretic," rejoined Leibel, who was
not without reading. " And then he was a man ! A man
with two humps could find a wife for each. But a woman
with a hump cannot expect a husband in addition."
" Guard your tongue from evil," quoth the Shadchan
angrily. " If everybody were to talk like you, Leah Vol-
covitch would never be married at all."
Leibel shrugged his shoulders, and reminded him that
hunchbacked girls who stammered and squinted and halted
on left legs were not usually led under the canopy.
" Nonsense ! Stuff ! " cried Sugarman angrily. " That
is because they do not come to me."
" Leah Volcovitch has come to you," said Leibel, " but
she shall not come to me." And he rose, anxious to escape.
Instantly Sugarman gave a sigh of resignation. " Be it
so ! Then I shall have to look out for another, that's all."
" No, I don't want any," replied Leibel quickly.
Sugarman stopped eating. "You don't want any?" he
cried. " But you came to me for one ?"
308 A ROSE OF THE GHETTO.
"I I know," stammered Leibel. "But I've I've
altered my mind."
" One needs HillePs patience to deal with you ! " cried
Sugarman. " But I shall charge you all the same for my
trouble. You cannot cancel an order like this in the
middle ! No, no ! You can play fast and loose with Leah
Volcovitch. But you shall not make a fool of me."
" But if I don't want one? " said Leibel sullenly.
Sugarman gazed at him with a cunning look of suspicion.
" Didn't I say there was something sticking behind? "
Leibel felt guilty. "But whom have you got in your
eye?" he enquired desperately.
" Perhaps you may have some one in yours ! " naively
answered Sugarman.
Leibel gave a hypocritic long-drawn, "U-m-m-m. I
wonder if Rose Green where I work " he said, and
stopped.
" I fear not," said Sugarman. " She is on my list. Her
father gave her to me some months ago, but he is hard to
please. Even the maiden herself is not easy, being pretty."
" Perhaps she has waited for some one," suggested Leibel.
Sugarman's keen ear caught the note of complacent
triumph.
"You have been asking her yourself!" he exclaimed in
horror-stricken accents.
"And if I have?" said Leibel defiantly.
" You have cheated me ! And so has Eliphaz Green
I always knew he was tricky ! You have both defrauded
me ! "
" I did not mean to," said Leibel mildly.
"You did mean to. You had no business to take the
matter out of my hands. What right had you to propose
to Rose Green?"
A ROSE OF THE GHETTO. 309
" I did not," cried Leibel excitedly.
" Then you asked her father ! "
" No ; I have not asked her father yet."
" Then how do you know she will have you ? "
"I I know," stammered Leibel, feeling himself some-
how a liar as well as a thief. His brain was in a whirl ; he
could not remember how the thing had come about.
Certainly he had not proposed ; nor could he say that she
had.
"You know she will have you," repeated Sugarman,
reflectively. " And does she know ? "
"Yes. In fact," he blurted out, "we arranged it
together."
" Ah ! You both know. And does her father know ? "
"Not yet."
"Ah! then I must get his consent," said Sugarman
decisively.
"I I thought of speaking to him myself."
"Yourself!" echoed Sugarman, in horror. "Are you
unsound in the head ? Why, that would be worse than the
mistake you have already made ! "
"What mistake?" asked Leibel, firing up.
"The mistake of asking the maiden herself. When you
quarrel with her after your marriage, she will always throw
it in your teeth that you wished to marry her. Moreover,
if you tell a maiden you love her, her father will think you
ought to marry her as she stands. Still, what is done is
done." And he sighed regretfully.
"And what more do I want? I love her."
"You piece of clay!" cried Sugarman contemptuously.
" Love will not turn machines, much less buy them. You
must have a dowry. Her father has a big stocking he
can well afford it."
310 A ROSE OF THE GHETTO.
Leibel's eyes lit up. There was really no reason why
he should not have bread-and-cheese with his kisses.
" Now, if you went to her father," pursued the Shadchan,
" the odds are that he would not even give you his daughter
to say nothing of the dowry. After all, it is a cheek of
you to aspire so high. As you told me from the first, you
haven't saved a penny. Even my commission you won't be
able to pay till you get the dowry. But if / go, I do not
despair of getting a substantial sum to say nothing of the
daughter."
" Yes, I think you had better go," said Leibel eagerly.
" But if I do this thing for you I shall want a pound
more," rejoined Sugarman.
"A pound more ! " echoed Leibel, in dismay. "Why?"
" Because Rose Green's hump is of gold," replied Sugar-
man oracularly. " Also, she is fair to see, and many men
desire her."
" But you have always your five per cent on the dowry."
" It will be less than Volcovitch's," explained Sugarman.
" You see, Green has other and less beautiful daughters."
" Yes ; but then it settles itself more easily. Say five
shillings."
" Eliphaz Green is a hard man," said the Shadchan
instead.
" Ten shillings is the most I will give ! "
" Twelve and sixpence is the least I will take. Eliphaz
Green haggles so terribly."
They split the difference, and so eleven and threepence
represented the predominance of Eliphaz Green's stinginess
over Volcovitch's.
The very next day Sugarman invaded the Green work-
room. Rose bent over her seams, her heart fluttering.
Leibel had duly apprised her of the roundabout manner in
A ROSE OF THE GHETTO. 311
which she would have to be won, and she had acquiesced
in the comedy. At the least it would save her the trouble
of father-taming.
Sugarman's entry was brusque and breathless. He was
overwhelmed with joyous emotion. His blue bandanna
trailed agitatedly from his coat-tail.
"At last!" he cried, addressing the little white-haired
master-tailor, " I have the very man for you."
"Yes?" grunted Eliphaz, unimpressed. The monosyl-
lable was packed with emotion. It said : " Have you
really the face to come to me again with an ideal man ? "
" He has all the qualities that you desire," began the
Shadchan, in a tone that repudiated the implications of the
monosyllable. " He is young, strong, God-fearing "
" Has he any money?" grumpily interrupted Eliphaz.
" He will have money," replied Sugarman unhesitatingly,
" when he marries."
"Ah ! " The father's voice relaxed, and his foot lay
limp on the treadle. He worked one of his machines
himself, and paid himself the wages so as to enjoy the
profit. " How much will he have ? "
" I think he will have fifty pounds ; and the least you
can do is to let him have fifty pounds," replied Sugarman,
with the same happy ambiguity.
Eliphaz shook his head on principle.
"Yes, you will," said Sugarman, "when you learn how
fine a man he is."
The flush of confusion and trepidation already on LeibeFs
countenance became a rosy glow of modesty, for he could
not help overhearing what was being said, owing to the lull
of the master-tailor's machine.
" Tell me, then," rejoined Eliphaz.
" Tell me, first, if you will give fifty to a young, healthy,
312 A ROSE OF THE GHETTO.
hard-working, God-fearing man, whose idea it is to start
as a master- tailor on his own account? And you know how
profitable that is ! "
" To a man like that," said Eliphaz, in a burst of enthu-
siasm, " I would give as much as twenty-seven pounds ten ! "
Sugarman groaned inwardly, but Leibel's heart leaped
with joy. To get four months' wages at a stroke ! With
twenty-seven pounds ten he could certainly procure several
machines, especially on the instalment system. Out of the
corners of his eyes he shot a glance at Rose, who was
beyond earshot.
"Unless you can promise thirty it is waste of time
mentioning his name," said Sugarman.
"Well, well who is he?"
Sugarman bent down, lowering his voice into the father's
ear.
"What ! Leibel ! " cried Eliphaz, outraged.
" Sh ! " said Sugarman, " or he will overhear your delight,
and ask more. He has his nose high enough as it is."
" B b b ut," sputtered the bewildered parent, " I
know Leibel myself. I see him every day. I don't want
a Shadchan to find me a man I know a mere hand in
my own workshop ! "
"Your talk has neither face nor figure," answered Sugar-
man sternly. " It is just the people one sees every day
that one knows least. I warrant that if I had not put it
into your head you would never have dreamt of Leibel as
a son-in-law. Come now, confess."
Eliphaz grunted vaguely, and the Shadchan went on
triumphantly. " I thought as much. And yet where could
you find a better man to keep your daughter?"
" He ought to be content with her alone," grumbled her
father.
A ROSE OF THE GHETTO. 313
Sugarman saw the signs of weakening, and dashed in,
full strength. " It's a question whether he will have her at
all. I have not been to him about her yet. I awaited
your approval of the idea." Leibel admired the verbal
accuracy of these statements, which he just caught.
" But I didn't know he would be having money," mur-
mured Eliphaz.
" Of course you didn't know. That's what the Shadchan
is for to point out the things that are under your nose."
" But where will he be getting this money from? "
" From you," said Sugarman frankly.
"From me?"
" From whom else ? Are you not his employer ? It has
been put by for his marriage-day."
" He has saved it?"
" He has not spent it," said Sugarman, impatiently.
" But do you mean to say he has saved fifty pounds?"
" If he could manage to save fifty pounds out of your
wages he would be indeed a treasure," said Sugarman.
" Perhaps it might be thirty."
" But you said fifty."
" Well, you came down to thirty," retorted the Shadchan.
" You cannot expect him to have more than your daughter
brings."
" I never said thirty," Eliphaz reminded him. " Twenty-
seven ten was my last bid."
" Very well ; that will do as a basis of negotiations,"
said Sugarman resignedly. " I will call upon him this
evening. If I were to go over and speak to him now he
would perceive you were anxious and raise his terms, and
that will never do. Of course, you will not mind allowing
me a pound more for finding you so economical a son-in-
law?"
314 A ROSE OF THE GHETTO.
"Not a penny more."
" You need not fear," said Sugarman resentfully. " It is
not likely I shall be able to persuade him to take so eco-
nomical a father-in-law. So you will be none the worse for
promising."
" Be it so," said Eliphaz, with a gesture of weariness, and
he started his machine again.
"Twenty-seven pounds ten, remember," said Sugarman,
above the whirr.
Eliphaz nodded his head, whirring his wheelwork louder.
"And paid before the wedding, mind? "
The machine took no notice.
"Before the wedding, mind," repeated Sugarman. "Be-
fore we go under the canopy."
" Go now, go now ! " grunted Eliphaz, with a gesture of
impatience. " It shall be all well." And the white-haired
head bowed immovably over its work.
In the evening Rose extracted from her father the motive
of Sugarman's visit, and confessed that the idea was to her
liking.
"But dost thou think he will have me, little father?"
she asked, with cajoling eyes.
" Anyone would have my Rose."
" Ah, but Leibel is different. So many years he has sat
at my side and said nothing."
"He had his work to think of; he is a good, saving
youth."
"At this very moment Sugarman is trying to persuade
him not so? I suppose he will want much money."
"Be easy, my child." And he passed his discoloured
hand over her hair.
Sugarman turned up the next day, and reported that
Leibel was unobtainable under thirty pounds, and Eliphaz,
A ROSE OF THE GHETTO. 315
weary of the contest, called over Leibel, till that moment
carefully absorbed in his scientific chalk-marks, and men-
tioned the thing to him for the first time. " I am not a
man to bargain," Eliphaz said, and so he gave the young
man his tawny hand, and a bottle of rum sprang from some-
where, and work was suspended for five minutes, and the
" hands " all drank amid surprised excitement. Sugarman's
visits had prepared them to congratulate Rose. But Leibel
was a shock.
The formal engagement was marked by even greater
junketing, and at last the marriage-day came. Leibel was
resplendent in a diagonal frock-coat, cut by his own hand,
and Rose stepped from the cab a medley of flowers, fairness,
and white silk, and behind her came two bridesmaids
her sisters a trio that glorified the spectator-strewn pave-
ment outside the Synagogue. Eliphaz looked almost tall in
his shiny high hat and frilled shirt-front. Sugarman arrived
on foot, carrying red- socked little Ebenezer tucked under
his arm.
Leibel and Rose were not the only couple to be disposed
of, for it was the thirty-third day of the Omer a day fruit-
ful in marriages.
But at last their turn came. They did not, however,
come in their turn, and their special friends among the
audience wondered why they had lost their precedence.
After several later marriages had taken place, a whisper be-
gan to circulate. The rumour of a hitch gained ground
steadily, and the sensation was proportionate. And, indeed,
the rose was not to be picked without a touch of the thorn.
Gradually the facts leaked out, and a buzz of talk and
comment ran through the waiting Synagogue. Eliphaz had
not paid up !
At first he declared he would put down the money im-
316 A ROSE OF THE GHETTO.
mediately after the ceremony. But the wary Sugarman,
schooled by experience, demanded its instant delivery on
behalf of his other client. Hard-pressed, Eliphaz produced
ten sovereigns from his trousers' pocket, and tendered them
on account. These Sugarman disdainfully refused, and the
negotiations were suspended. The bridegroom's party was
encamped in one room, the bride's in another, and after a
painful delay Eliphaz sent an emissary to say that half the
amount should be forthcoming, the extra five pounds in a
bright new Bank of England note. Leibel, instructed and
encouraged by Sugarman, stood firm.
And then arose a hubbub of voices, a chaos of sugges-
tions ; friends rushed to and fro between the camps, some
emerging from their seats in the Synagogue to add to the
confusion. But Eliphaz had taken his stand upon a rock
he had no more ready money. To-morrow, the next day,
he would have some. And Leibel, pale and dogged, clutched
tighter at those machines that were slipping away momently
from him. He had not yet seen his bride that morning,
and so her face was shadowy compared with the tangibility
of those machines. Most of the other maidens were mar-
ried women by now, and the situation was growing des-
perate. From the female camp came terrible rumours of
bridesmaids in hysterics, and a bride that tore her wreath
in a passion of shame and humiliation. Eliphaz sent word
that he would give an I O U for the balance, but that he
really could not muster any more current coin. Sugarman
instructed the ambassador to suggest that Eliphaz should
raise the money among his friends.
And the short spring day slipped away. In vain the
minister, apprised of the block, lengthened out the formulae
for the other pairs, and blessed them with more reposeful
unction. It was impossible to stave off the Leibel-Green
A ROSE OF THE GHETTO. 817
item indefinitely, and at last Rose remained the only orange-
wreathed spinster in the Synagogue. And then there was a
hush of solemn suspense, that swelled gradually into a
steady rumble of babbling tongues as minute succeeded
minute and the final bridal party still failed to appear.
The latest bulletin pictured the bride in a dead faint. The
afternoon was waning fast. The minister left his post near
the canopy, under which so many lives had been united,
and came to add his white tie to the forces for compromise.
But he fared no better than the others. Incensed at the
obstinacy of the antagonists, he declared he would close the
Synagogue. He gave the couple ten minutes to marry in
or quit. Then chaos came, and pandemonium a frantic
babel of suggestion and exhortation from the crowd. When
five minutes had passed, a legate from Eliphaz announced
that his side had scraped together twenty pounds, and that
this was their final bid.
Leibel wavered ; the long day's combat had told upon
him ; the reports of the bride's distress had weakened him.
Even Sugarman had lost his cocksureness of victory. A
few minutes more and both commissions might slip through
his fingers. Once the parties left the Synagogue it would
not be easy to drive them there another day. But he
cheered on his man still one could always surrender at
the tenth minute.
At the eighth the buzz of tongues faltered suddenly, to
be transposed into a new key, so to speak. Through the
gesticulating assembly swept that murmur of expectation
which crowds know when the procession is coming at last.
By some mysterious magnetism all were aware that the
BRIDE herself the poor hysteric bride had left the pa-
ternal camp, was coming in person to plead with her mer-
cenary lover.
'BY MY LIFE THOU MUST NOT!
318
A J?OSE OF THE GHETTO. 319
And as the glory of her and the flowers and the white
draperies loomed upon Leibel's vision his heart melted in
worship, and he knew his citadel would crumble in ruins at
her first glance, at her first touch. Was it fair fighting?
As his troubled vision cleared and as she came nigh unto
him, he saw to his amazement that she was speckless and
composed no trace of tears dimmed the fairness of her
face, there was no disarray in her bridal wreath.
The clock showed the ninth minute.
She put her hand appealingly on his arm, while a heavenly
light came into her face the expression of a Joan of Arc
animating her country.
" Do not give in, Leibel," she said. " Do not have me !
Do not let them persuade thee. By my life thou must not !
Go home ! "
So at the eleventh minute the vanquished Eliphaz pro-
duced the balance, and they all lived happily ever after-
wards.
A Double-Barrelled Ghost.
I WAS ruined. The bank in which I had been a sleeping-
partner from my cradle smashed suddenly, and I was ex-
empted from income tax at one fell blow. It became
necessary to dispose even of the family mansion and the
hereditary furniture. The shame of not contributing to my
country's exchequer spurred me to earnest reflection upon
how to earn an income, and, having mixed myself another
lemon-squash, I threw myself back on the canvas garden-
chair, and watched the white, scented wreaths of my cigar-
smoke hanging in the drowsy air, and provoking inexperienced
bees to settle upon them. It was the sort of summer after-
noon on which to eat lotus, and to sip the dew from the lips
of Amaryllises ; but although I had an affianced Amaryllis
(whose Christian name was Jenny Grant), I had not the
heart to dally with her in view of my sunk fortunes. She
loved me for myself, no doubt, but then I was not myself
since the catastrophe ; and although she had hastened to
assure me of her unchanged regard, I was not at all certain
whether / should be able to support a wife in addition to all
my other misfortunes. So that I was not so comfortable
that afternoon as I appeared to my perspiring valet : no rose
in the garden had a pricklier thorn than I. The thought of
my poverty weighed me down ; and when the setting sun
began flinging bars of gold among the clouds, the reminder
of my past extravagance made my heart heavier still, and I
broke down utterly.
320
A DOUBLE-BARRELLED GHOST. 321
Swearing at the manufacturers of such collapsible garden-
chairs, I was struggling to rise when I perceived my rings of
smoke comporting themselves strangely. They were widen-
ing and curving and flowing into definite outlines, as though
the finger of the wind were shaping them into a rough sketch
of the human figure. Sprawling amid the ruins of my chair,
I watched the nebulous contours grow clearer and clearer,
till at last the agitation subsided, and a misty old gentleman,
clad in vapour of an eighteenth-century cut, stood plainly
revealed upon the sun-flecked grass.
" Good afternoon, John," said the old gentleman, cour-
teously removing his cocked hat.
" Good afternoon ! " I gasped. " How do you know my
name?"
" Because I have not forgotten my own," he replied. " I
am John Halliwell, your great-grandfather. Don't you re-
member me?"
A flood of light burst upon my brain. Of course ! I
ought to have recognised him at once from the portrait by
Sir Joshua Reynolds, just about to be sold by auction. The
artist had gone to full length in painting him, and here he
was complete, from his white wig, beautifully frizzled by the
smoke, to his buckled shoes, from his knee-breeches to the
frills at his wrists.
" Oh ! pray pardon my not having recognised you," I
cried remorsefully ; " I have such a bad memory for faces.
Won't you take a chair? "
"Sir, I have not sat down for a century and a half," he
said simply. " Pray be seated yourself."
Thus reminded of my undignified position, I gathered
myself up, and readjusting the complex apparatus, confided
myself again to its canvas caresses. Then, grown conscious
of my shirt-sleeves, I murmured,
d
"PRAY BE SEATED YOURSELF," SAID THE GHOST SIMPLY.
322
A DOUBLE-BARRELLED GHOST. 323
" Excuse my deshabille. I did not expect to see you."
" I am aware the season is inopportune," he said apolo-
getically. " But I did not care to put off my visit till
Christmas. You see, with us Christmas is a kind of Bank
Holiday ; and when there is a general excursion, a refined
spirit prefers its own fireside. Moreover, I am not, as you
may see, very robust, and I scarce like to risk exposing
myself to such an extreme change of temperature. Your
English Christmas is so cold. With the pyrometer at three
hundred and fifty, it is hardly prudent to pass to thirty. On
a sultry day like this the contrast is less marked."
" I understand," I said sympathetically.
" But I should hardly have ventured," he went on, " to
trespass upon you at this untimely season merely out of
deference to my own valetudinarian instincts. The fact is,
I am a litterateur"
" Oh, indeed," I said vaguely ; " I was not aware of it."
" Nobody was aware of it," he replied sadly ; " but my
calling at this professional hour will, perhaps, go to substan-
tiate my statement."
I looked at him blankly. Was he quite sane? All the
apparitions I had ever heard of spoke with some approach
to coherence, however imbecile their behaviour. The sta-
tistics of insanity in the spiritual world have never been
published, but I suspect the percentage of madness is high.
Mere harmless idiocy is doubtless the prevalent form of
dementia, judging by the way the poor unhappy spirits set
about compassing their ends ; but some of their actions can
only be explained by the more violent species of mania.
My great-grandfather seemed to read the suspicion in my
eye, for he hastily continued :
" Of course it is only the outside public who imagine that
the spirits of literature really appear at Christmas. It is the
324 A DOUBLE-BARRELLED GHOST.
annuals that appear at Christmas. The real season at which
we are active on earth is summer, as every journalist knows.
By Christmas the authors of our being have completely for-
gotten our existence. As a writer myself, and calling in
connection with a literary matter, I thought it more profes-
sional to pay my visit during the dog days, especially as
your being in trouble supplied me with an excuse for asking
permission to go beyond bounds."
" You knew I was in trouble ? " I murmured, touched by
this sympathy from an unexpected quarter.
" Certainly. And from a selfish point of view I am not
sorry. You have always been so inconsiderately happy that
I could never find a seemly pretext to get out to see you."
" Is it only when your descendants are in trouble that you
are allowed to visit them?" I enquired.
" Even so," he answered. " Of course spirits whose births
were tragic, who were murdered into existence, are allowed
to supplement the inefficient police departments of the
upper globe, and a similar charter is usually extended to
those who have hidden treasures on their conscience ; but
it is obvious that if all spirits were accorded what furloughs
they pleased, eschatology would become a farce. Sir, you
have no idea of the number of bogus criminal romances ten-
dered daily by those wishing to enjoy the roving license of
avenging spirits, for the ex-assassinated are the most enviable
of immortals, and cases of personation are of frequent occur-
rence. Our actresses, too, are always pretending to have
lost jewels ; there is no end to the excuses. The Christmas
Bank Holiday is naturally inadequate to our needs. Sir, I
should have been far happier if my descendants had gone
wrong ; but in spite of the large fortune I had accumulated,
both your father and your grandfather were of exemplary
respectability and ( unruffled cheerfulness. The solitary
A DOUBLE-BARRELLED GHOST. 325
outing I had was when your father attended a seance, and I
was knocked up in the middle of the night. But I did not
enjoy my holiday in the least ; the indignity of having to
move the furniture made the blood boil in my veins as in a
spirit-lamp, and exposed me to the malicious badinage of
my circle on my return. I protested that I did not care a
rap/ but I was mightily rejoiced when I learnt that your
father had denounced the proceedings as a swindle, and was
resolved never to invite me to his table again. When you
were born I thought you were born to trouble, as the sparks
fly upwards from our dwelling-place ; but I was mistaken.
Up till now your life has been a long summer afternoon."
" Yes, but now the shades are falling," I said grimly. "It
looks as if my life henceforwards will be a long holiday
for you."
He shook his wig mournfully.
" No, I am only out on parole. I have had to give my
word of honour to try to set you on your legs again as soon
as possible."
" You couldn't have come at a more opportune moment,"
I cried, remembering how he had found me. "You are
a good as well as a great-grandfather, and I am proud of
my descent. Won't you have a cigar? "
"Thank you, I never smoke on earth," said the spirit
hurriedly, with a flavour of bitter in his accents. " Let us
to the point. You have been reduced to the painful neces-
sity of earning your living."
I nodded silently, and took a sip of lemon-squash. A
strange sense of salvation lulled my soul.
" How do you propose to do it? " asked my great-grand-
father.
" Oh, I leave that to you," I said confidingly.
" Well, what do you say to a literary career?"
326 A DOUBLE-BARRELLED GHOST.
"Eh? What?" I gasped.
" A literary career," he repeated. " What makes you so
astonished ? "
" Well, for one thing it's exactly what Tom Addlestone,
the leader-writer of the Hurrygraph, was recommending to
me this morning. He said : ' John, my boy, if I had had
your advantages ten years ago, I should have been spared
many a headache and supplied with many a dinner. It
may turn out a lucky thing yet that you gravitated so to
literary society, and that so many press men had free passes
to your suppers. Consider the number of men of letters
you have mixed drinks with ! Why, man, you can succeed
in any branch of literature you please.' "
My great-grandfather's face was radiant. Perhaps it was
only the setting sun that touched it.
"A chip of the old block," he murmured. "That was I
in my young days. Johnson, Goldsmith, Sheridan, Burke,
Hume, I knew them all gay dogs, gay dogs ! Except
that great hulking brute of a Johnson," he added, with a
sudden savage snarl that showed his white teeth.
" I told Addlestone that I had no literary ability whatever,
and he scoffed at me for my simplicity. All the same, I
think he was only poking fun at me. My friends might
puff me out to bull-size ; but I am only a frog, and I should
very soon burst. The public might be cajoled into buying
one book ; they could not be duped a second time. Don't
you think I was right? I haven't any literary ability,
have I ? "
" Certainly not, certainly not," replied my great-grand-
father with an alacrity and emphasis that would have seemed
suspicious in a mere mortal. " But it does seem a shame
to waste so great an opportunity. The ball that Addlestone
waited years for is at your foot, and it is grievous to think
A DOUBLE-BARRELLED GHOST. 327
that there it must remain merely because you do not know
how to kick it."
"Well, but what's a man to do?"
"What's a man to do?" repeated my great-grandfather
contemptuously. " Get a ghost, of course."
" By Jove ! " I cried with a whistle. " That's a good
idea ! Addlestone has a ghost to do his leaders for him
when he's lazy. I've seen the young fellow myself. Tom
pays him six guineas a dozen, and gets three guineas apiece
himself. But of course Tom has to live in much better
style, and that makes it fair all round. You mean that I am
to take advantage of my influence to get some other fellow
work, and take a commission for the use of my name?
That seems feasible enough. But where am I to find a
ghost with the requisite talents?"
" Here," said my great-grandfather.
"What! You?"
" Yes, I," he replied calmly.
" But you couldn't write "
" Not now, certainly not. All I wrote now would be burnt."
" Then how the devil ? " I began.
" Hush ! " he interrupted nervously. " Listen, and I will
a tale unfold. It is called The Learned Pig. I wrote it in
my forty-fifth year, and it is full of sketches from the life of
all the more notable personages of my time, from Lord
Chesterfield to Mrs. Thrale, from Peg Woffington to Adam
Smith and the ingenious Mr. Dibdin. I have painted the
portrait of Sir Joshua quite as faithfully as he has painted
mine. Of course much of the dialogue is real, taken from
conversations preserved in my note-book. It is, I believe, a
complete picture of the period, and being the only book I
ever wrote or intended to write, I put my whole self into
it, as well as all my friends."
328 A DOUBLE-BARRELLED GHOST.
" It must be, indeed, your masterpiece," I cried enthusi-
astically. " But why is it called The Learned Pig, and how
has it escaped publication?"
" You shall hear. The learned pig is Dr. Johnson. He
refused to take wine with me. I afterwards learnt that he
had given up strong liqueurs altogether, and I went to see
him again, but he received me with epigrams. He is the
pivot of my book, all the other characters revolving about
him. Naturally, I did not care to publish during his life-
time ; not entirely, I admit, out of consideration to his feel-
ings, but because foolish admirers had placed him on such
a pedestal that he could damn any book he did not relish.
I made sure of surviving him, so many and diverse were his
distempers ; whereas my manuscript survived me. In the
moment of death I strove to tell your grandfather of the
hiding-place in which I had bestowed it ; but I could only
make signs to which he had not the clue. You can imagine
how it has embittered my spirit to have missed the aim of
my life and my due niche in the pantheon of letters. In
vain I strove to be registered among the ' hidden treasure '
spirits, with the preambulatory privileges pertaining to the
class. I was told that to recognise manuscripts under the
head of ' treasures ' would be to open a fresh door to abuse,
there being few but had scribbled in their time and had a
good conceit of their compositions to boot. I could offer
no proofs of the value of my work, not even printers' proofs,
and even the fact that the manuscript was concealed behind
a sliding pajiel availed not to bring it into the coveted cate-
gory. Moreover, not only did I have no other pretext to call
on my descendants, but both my son and grandson were too
respectable to be willingly connected with letters and too
flourishing to be enticed by the prospects of profit. To you,
however, this book will prove the avenue to fresh fortune."
A DOUBLE-BARRELLED GHOST. 329
" Do you mean I am to publish it under your name? "
" No, under yours."
" But, then, where does the satisfaction come in?"
"Your name is the same as mine."
"I see; but still, why not tell the truth about it? In a
preface, for instance."
" Who would believe it ? In my own day I could not
credit that Macpherson spoke truly about the way Ossian
came into his possession, nor to judge from gossip I have
had with the younger ghosts did anyone attach credence to
Sir Walter Scott's introductions."
" True,", I said musingly. " It is a played-out dodge.
But I am not certain whether an attack on Dr. Johnson
would go down nowadays. We are aware that the man
had porcine traits, but we have almost canonised him."
"The very reason why the book will be a success," he
replied eagerly. " I understand that in these days of yours
the best way of attracting attention is to fly in the face of
all received opinion, and so in the realm of history to white-
wash the villains and tar and feather the saints. The sliding
panel of which I spoke is just behind the picture of me.
Lose no time. Go at once, even as I must."
The shadowy contours of his form waved agitatedly in
the wind.
" But how do you know anyone will bring it out?" I said
doubtfully. " Am I to haunt the publishers' offices till
" No, no, I will do that," he interrupted in excitement.
" Promise me you will help me."
"But I don't feel at all sure it stands a ghost of a chance,"
I said, growing colder in proportion as he grew more en-
thusiastic.
" It is the only chance of a ghost," he pleaded. " Come,
give me your word. Any of your literary friends will get
330 A DOUBLE-BARRELLED GHOST.
you a publisher, and where could you get a more promising
ghost?"
" Oh, nonsense ! " I said quietly, unconsciously quoting
Ibsen. "There must be ghosts all the country over, as
thick as the sand of the sea."
I was determined to put the matter on its proper footing,
for I saw that under pretence of restoring my fortunes he
was really trying to get me to pull his chestnuts out of the
fire, and I resented the deceptive spirit that could put for-
ward such tasks as favours. It was evident that he cherished
a post-mortem grudge against the great lexicographer, as
well as a posthumous craving for fame, and wished to use
me as the instrument of his reputation and his revenge. But
I was a man of the world, and I was not going to be rushed
by a mere phantom.
" I don't deny there are plenty of ghosts about," he
answered with insinuative deference. " Only will any of the
others work for nothing?"
He saw he had scored a point, and his eyes twinkled.
"Yes, but I don't know that I approve of black-legs," I
answered sternly. "You are taking the bread and butter
out of some honest ghost's mouth."
The corners of his own mouth drooped ; his eyes grew
misty ; he looked fading away. " Most true," he faltered ;
" but be pitiful. Have you no great-grand-filial feelings? "
" No, I lost everything in the crash," I answered coldly.
"Suppose the book's a frost? "
" I shan't mind," he said eagerly.
" No, I don't suppose you would mind a frost," I retorted
witheringly. " But look at the chaff you'd be letting me in
for. Hadn't you better put off publication for a century or
two?"
" No, no," he cried wildly ; " our mansion will pass into
A DOUBLE-BARRELLED GHOST. 331
strange hands. I shall not have the right of calling on the
new proprietors."
" Phew ! " I whistled ; " perhaps that's why you timed
your visit now, you artful old codger. I have always heard
appearances are deceptive. However, I have ever been
a patron of letters ; and although I cannot approve of post-
mundane malice, and think the dead past should be let
bury its dead, still, if you are set upon it, I will try and use
my influence to get your book published."
" Bless you ! " he cried tremulously, with all the effusive-
ness natural to an author about to see himself in print, and
trembled so violently that he dissipated himself away.
I stood staring a moment at the spot where he had stood,
pleased at having out- manoeuvred him ; then my chair gave
way with another crash, and I picked myself up painfully,
together with the dead stump of my cigar, and brushed the
ash off my trousers, and rubbed my eyes and wondered if
I had been dreaming. But no ! when I ran into the cheer-
less dining-room, with its pervading sense of imminent
auction, I found the sliding panel behind the portrait by
Reynolds, which seemed to beam kindly encouragement
upon me, and, lo ! The Learned Pig was there in a mass
of musty manuscript.
As everybody knows, the book made a hit. The Acadceum
was unusually generous in its praise : " A lively picture of
the century of farthingales and stomachers, marred only
by numerous anachronisms and that stilted air of faked-up
archaeological knowledge which is, we suppose, inevitable
in historical novels. The conversations are particularly
artificial. Still, we can forgive Mr. Halliwell a good deal of
inaccuracy and inacquaintance with the period, in view of
the graphic picture of the literary dictator from the novel
point of view of a contemporary who was not among the
332 A DOUBLE-BARRELLED GHOST.
worshippers. It is curious how the honest, sterling character
of the man is brought out all the more clearly from the
incapacity of the narrator to comprehend its greatness
to show this was a task that called for no little skill and
subtlety. If it were only for this one ingenious idea, Mr.
Halliwell's book would stand out from the mass of abortive
attempts to resuscitate the past. He has failed to picture
the times, but he has done what is better he has given us
human beings who are alive, instead of the futile shadows
that flit through the Walhalla of the average historical
novel."
All the leading critics were at one as to the cleverness
with which the great soul of Dr. Johnson was made to stand
out on the background of detraction, and the public was
universally agreed that this was the only readable historical
novel published for many years, and that the anachronisms
didn't matter a pin. I don't know what I had done to Tom
Addlestone ; but when everybody was talking about me, he
went about saying that I kept a ghost. I was annoyed, for
I did not keep one in any sense, and I openly defied the
world to produce him. Why, I never saw him again myself
I believe he was too disgusted with the fillip he had given
Dr. Johnson's reputation, and did not even take advantage
of the Christmas Bank Holiday. But Addlestone's libel
got to Jenny Grant's ears, and she came to me indignantly,
and said : " I won't have it. You must either give up me
or the ghost."
"To give up you would be to give up the ghost, darling,"
I answered soothingly. "But you, and you alone, have
a right to the truth. It is not my ghost at all, it is my great-
grandfather's."
" Do you mean to say he bequeathed him to you ? "
" It came to that."
A DOUBLE-BARRELLED GHOST. 333
I then told her the truth, and showed how in any case
the profits of my ancestor's book rightfully reverted back-
wards to me. So we were married on them, and Jenny,
fired by my success, tried her hand on a novel, and published
it, truthfully enough, under the name of J. Halliwell. She
has written all my stories ever since, including this one;
which, if it be necessarily false in the letter, is true in the
spirit.
Vagaries of a Viscount.
THAT every man has a romance in his life has always been
a pet theory of mine, so I was not surprised to find the
immaculate Dorking smoking a clay pipe in Cable Street
(late Ratcliff Highway) at half-past eight of a winter's
morning. Nor was I surprised to find myself there, because,
as a romancer, I have a poetic license to go anywhere and
see everything. Viscount Dorking had just come out of an
old do' shop, and was got up like a sailor. Under his arm
was a bundle. He lurched against me without recognising
me, for I, too, was masquerading in my shabbiest and
roughest attire, and the morning was bleak and foggy, the
round red sun flaming in the forehead of the morning sky
like the eye of a cyclop. But there could be no doubt it
was Dorking even if I had not been acquainted with the
sedate Viscount (that paradox of the peerage, whose trea-
tises on pure mathematics were the joy of Senior Wranglers)
I should have suspected something shady from the whiteness
of my sailor's hands.
Dorking was a dapper little man, almost dissociable from
gloves and a chimneypot. The sight of him shambling
along like one of the crew of H. M. S. Pinafore gave me a
pleasant thrill of excitement. I turned, and followed him
along the narrow yellow street. He made towards the
Docks, turning down King David Lane. He was apparently
without any instrument of protection, though I, for my part,
was glad to feel the grasp of the old umbrella that walks
334
VAGARIES OF A VISCOUNT. 335
always with me, hand in knob. Hard by the Shadwell Basin
he came to a halt before a frowsy coffee-house, reflectively
removed his pipe from his mouth, and whistled a bar of a
once popular air in a peculiar manner. Then he pushed
open the bleared glass door, and was lost to view.
After an instant's hesitation I pulled my sombrero over
my eyes and strode in after him, plunging into a wave of
musty warmth not entirely disagreeable after the frigid
street. The boxes were full of queer waterside characters,
among whom flitted a young woman robustly beautiful. The
Viscount was already smiling at her when I entered. " Bring
us the usual," he said, in a rough accent.
" Come along, Jenny, pint and one," impatiently growled
a weather-beaten old ruffian in a pilot's cap.
" Pawn your face ! " murmured Jenny, turning to me with
an enquiring air.
" Pint and one," I said boldly, in as husky a tone as I
could squeeze out.
Several battered visages, evidently belonging to habitues
of the place, were bent suspiciously in my direction ; per-
haps because my rig-out, though rough, had no flavour of
sea-salt or river-mud, for no one took the least notice of
Dorking, except the comely attendant. I waited with some
curiosity for my fare, which turned out to be nothing more
mysterious than a pint of coffee and one thick slice of bread
and butter. Not to appear ignorant of the prices ruling, I
tendered Jenny a sixpence, whereupon she returned me
fourpence-halfpenny. This appeared to me so ridiculously
cheap that I had not the courage to offer her the change as
I had intended, nor did she seem to expect it. The pint of
coffee was served in one great hulking cup such as Gargantua
might have quaffed. I took a sip, and found it of the
flavour of chalybeate springs. But it was hot, and I made
336 VAGARIES OF A VISCOUNT.
shift to drink a little, casting furtive glances at Dorking,
three boxes off across the gangway.
My gentleman sailor seemed quite at home, swallowing
stolidly as though at his own breakfast-table. I grew impa-
tient for him to have done, and beguiled the time by study-
ing a placard on the wall offering a reward for information
as to the whereabouts of a certain ship's cook who was
wanted for knifing human flesh. And presently, curiously
enough, in comes a police-sergeant on this very matter, and
out goes Dorking (rather hastily, I thought), with me at his
heels.
No sooner had he got round a corner than he started run-
ning at a rate that gave me a stitch in the side. He did
not stop till he reached a cab-rank. There was only one
vehicle on it, and the coughing, red-nosed driver, unpleas-
antly suggesting a mixture of grog and fog, was climbing to
his seat when I came cautiously and breathlessly up, and
Dorking was returning to his trousers' pocket a jingling mass
of gold and silver coins, which he had evidently been exhib-
iting to the sceptical cabman. He seemed to walk these
regions with the fearlessness of Una in the enchanted forest.
I had no resource but to hang on to the rear, despite the
alarums of " whip behind," raised by envious and inconsid-
erate urchins.
And in this manner, defiantly dodging the cabman, who
several times struck me unfairly behind his back, I drove
through a labyrinth of sordid streets to the Bethnal Green
Museum. Here we alighted, and the Viscount strolled
about outside the iron railings, from time to time anxiously
scrutinising the church clock and looking towards the foun-
tain which only performs in the summer, and was then wear-
ing its winter night-cap. At last, as if weary of waiting,
he walked with sudden precipitation towards the turnstile,
VAGARIES OF A VISCOUNT. 337
and was lost to view within. After a moment I followed
him, but was stopped by the janitor, who, with an air of
astonishment, informed me there was sixpence to pay, it
being a Wednesday. I understood at once why the Vis-
count had selected this day, for there was no one to be seen
inside, and it was five minutes ere I discovered him. He
was in the National Portrait Gallery, before one of Sir Peter
Lely's insipid beauties, which to my surprise he was copying
in pencil. Evidently he was trying to while away the time.
At eleven o'clock to the second he scribbled something
underneath the sketch, folded it up carefully, picked up his
bundle and walked unhesitatingly downstairs into the second
gallery, where, after glancing about to assure himself that
the policeman's head was turned away, he deposited the
paper between two bottles of tape-worms, and stole out
through the back door. Feverishly seizing the sketch, I
followed him, but the policeman's eye was now upon me,
and I had to walk with dignified slowness, though I was in
agonies lest I should lose my man. My anxiety was justi-
fied ; when I reached the grounds, the Viscount was no-
where to be seen. I ran hither and thither like a madman,
along the back street and about the grounds, hacking my
shins against a perambulator, and at last sank upon a frigid
garden seat, breathless and exhausted. I now bethought
me of the paper clenched in my fist, and, smoothing it out,
deciphered these words faintly pencilled beneath a caricature
of the Court beauty :
" Not my fault you missed me. If you are still set on
your folly, you will find me lunching at the Chingford
Hotel."
I sprang up exultant, new fire in my veins. True, the
mystery was darkening, but it was the darkness that precedes
the dawn.
338 VAGARIES OF A VISCOUNT.
" Cherchez la femme! " I muttered, and darting down
Three Colts Lane I reached the Junction, only to find the
barrier dashed in my face. But half-a-crown drove it back,
and I sprang into the guard's van on his very heels. A shil-
ling stifled the oath on his lips, and transferred it to mine
when I discovered I had jumped into the Enfield Fast.
Before I really got to Chingford it was long past noon. But
I found him.
The Viscount was toying with a Chartreuse in the dining-
room. The waiters eyed me suspiciously, for I was shabby
and dusty and haggard-looking. To my surprise Dorking
had doffed the sailor, and wore a loud checked suit ! He
looked up as I entered, but did not appear to recognise me.
There was no one with him. Still I had found him. That
was the prime thing.
Becoming conscious I was faint with hunger, I took up
the menu, when to my vexation I saw the Viscount pay his
bill, and don an overcoat and a billy-cock, and ere I could
snatch bite or sup I was striding along the slimy forest
paths, among the gaunt, fog-wrapped trees, following the
Viscount by his footprints whenever I lost him for a moment
among the avenues. Dorking marched with quick, decisive
steps. In the heart of the forest, by a great oak, whose
roots sprawled in every direction, he came to a standstill.
Hidden behind some brushwood, I awaited the sequel with
beating heart.
The Viscount took out a great coloured handkerchief, and
spread it carefully over the roots of the oak ; then he sat
down on the handkerchief, and whistled the same bar of
the same once popular air he had whistled outside the
coffee-house. Immediately a broken-nosed man emerged
from behind a bush, and addressed the Viscount. I strained
my ears, but could not catch their conversation, but I he*>.rd
VAGARIES OF A VISCOUNT. 339
Dorking laugh heartily, as he sprang up and clapped the
man on the shoulder. They walked off together.
I was now excited to the wildest degree ; I forgot the
pangs of baffled appetite ; my whole being was strung to
find a key to the strange proceedings of the mathematical
Viscount. Tracking their double footsteps through the
mist, I found them hobnobbing in a public-house on the
forest border. After peeping in, I ran round to another
door, and stood in an adjoining bar, where, without being
seen, I could have a snack of bread and cheese, and hear
all.
" Could you bring her round to my house to-night ? " said
Dorking, in a hoarse whisper. " You shall have the money
down."
" Right, sir ! " said the man. And then their pewters
clinked.
To my chagrin this was all the conversation. The Vis-
count strode out alone except for my company. The fog
had grown deeper, and I was glad to be conducted to the
station. This time we went to Liverpool Street. Dorking
lingered at the book-stall, and at last enquired if they had
yesterday's Times. Receiving a reply in the negative, he
clucked his tongue impatiently. Then, as with a sudden
thought, he ran up to the North London Railway book-stall,
only to be again disappointed. He took out the great
coloured handkerchief, and wiped his forehead. Then he
entered into confidential conversation with an undistin-
guished stranger, fat and foreign, who had been looking
eagerly up and down at the extreme end of the platform.
Re-descending into the street, he jumped into a Charing
Cross 'bus. As he went inside I had no option but to go
outside, though the air was yellow and I felt chilled to the
bone.
340
VAGARIES OF A VISCOUNT.
Alighting at Charing Cross, he went into the telegraph
office, and wrote a telegram. The composition seemed to
cause him great difficulty. Standing outside the door, I
saw him discard two half-begun forms. When he came out
I made a swift calculation of the chances, and determined
IN CONFIDENTIAL CONVERSATION WITH AN UNDISTINGUISHED
FOREIGNER.
to secure the two forms, even at the risk of losing him.
Neither had an address. One read : " If you are still set on
your fol " ; the other : "Come to-night if you are still "
Bolting out with these precious scraps of evidence, that only
added fuel to the flame of curiosity that was consuming me,
I turned cold to find the Viscount swallowed up in the
crowd. After an instant's agonised hesitation, I hailed a
VAGARIES OF A VISCOUNT. 341
hansom, and drove to his flat in Victoria Street. The valet
told me the Viscount was ill in bed, and could not see me.
I read in his face that it was a lie. I resolved to loiter
outside the building till Dorking's return.
I had not long to wait. In less than ten minutes a hansom
discharged him at my feet. Had I not been prepared for
anything, I should not have recognised him again in his red
whiskers, white hat, and blue spectacles. He rang the bell,
and enquired of his own valet if Viscount Dorking was at
home. The man said he was ill in bed.
" Oh, we'll soon put him on his legs again," interrupted
Dorking, with a professional air, and pushed his valet aside.
In that moment the solution dawned upon me. Dorking
was mad 7 Nothing but insanity would account for his
day's vagaries. I felt it was my duty, as a fellow-creature,
to look to him. I followed him, to the open-eyed conster-
nation of the valet. Suddenly he turned upon me, and
seized me savagely by the throat. I felt choking. My
worst fear was confirmed.
" No further, my man," he cried, flinging me back.
" Now go, and tell her ladyship how you have earned your
fee ! "
" Dorking ! are you mad ? " I gasped. " Don't you
remember me Mr. Pry from the Bachelor's Club ? "
" Great heavens, Paul ! " he cried. Then he fell back on
an ottoman, and laughed till the whiskers ran down his sides.
He always had a sense of humour, I remembered.
We explained the situation to each other. Dorking had
an eccentric aunt who wished to leave her money to him.
Suddenly Dorking learnt from his valet, who was betrothed
to her ladyship's maid, that she had taken it into her head
he could not be so virtuous and so devoted to pure mathe-
matics as he appeared, and so she had commissioned a
342 VAGARIES OF A VISCOUNT.
private detective agency to watch her nephew, and discover
how deep the still waters ran. Incensed at the suspicion, he
had that day started a course of action calculated to bam-
boozle the agency, and having no other meaning whatever.
When he caught sight of me gazing at him so curiously
he mistook me for one of its minions, and determined to
lead me a dance ; the mistake was confirmed by my patient
obedience to his piping.
The broken-nosed man was an accident. Anticipating
his value as a beautiful false clue, Dorking laughed uproar-
iously at the sight of him, and readily agreed to buy a
French poodle. "
HI Pi ETC
NCE upon a time there
was a Queen who un-
expectedly gave birth
to three Princes. They were all
so exactly alike that after a mo-
ment or two it was impossible
to remember which was the
eldest or which was the young-
est. Any two of them, sort
them how you pleased, were
always twins. They all cried in
the same key and with the same
comic grimaces. In short, there
was not a hair's-breadth of dif-
ference between them not that
they had a hair's-breadth be-
tween them, for, like most babies,
they were prematurely bald.
344 THE QUEEN'S TRIPLETS.
The King was very much put out. He did not mind
the expense of keeping three Heir Apparents, for that
fell on the country, and was defrayed by an impost called
" The Queen's Tax." But it was the consecrated custom
of the kingdom that the crown should pass over to the
eldest son, and the absence of accurate knowledge upon
this point was perplexing. A triumvirate was out of the
question ; the multiplication of monarchs would be vexa-
tion to the people, and the rule of three would drive them
mad.
The Queen was just as annoyed, though on different
grounds. She felt it hard enough to be the one mother in
the realm who could not get the Queen's bounty, without
having to suffer the King's reproaches. Her heart was
broken, and she died soon after of laryngitis.
To distinguish the triplets (when it was too late) they were
always dressed one in green, one in blue, and one in black,
the colours of the national standard, and naturally got to be
popularly known by the sobriquets of the Green Prince, the
Blue Prince, and the Black Prince. Every year they got
older and older till at last they became young men. And
every year the King got older and older till at last he became
an old man, and the fear crept into his heart that he might
be restored to his wife and leave the kingdom embroiled
in civil feud unless he settled straightway who should be the
heir. But, being human, notwithstanding his court laureates,
he put off the disagreeable duty from day to day, and might
have died without an heir, if the envoys from Paphlagonia
had not aroused him to the necessity of a decision. For
they announced that the Princess of Paphlagonia, being
suddenly orphaned, would be sent to him in the twelfth
moon that she might marry his eldest son as covenanted
by ancient treaty. This was the last straw. " But I don't
THE QUEEN'S TRIPLETS.
345
know who is my eldest son ! " yelled the King, who had
a vast respect for covenants and the Constitution.
In great perturbation he repaired to a famous Oracle,
at that time worked by a priestess with her hair let down
her back. The King asked her a plain question : " Which
is my eldest son?"
" ' THE ELDEST IS HE THAT THE PRINCESS SHALL WED.' "
After foaming at the mouth like an open champagne
bottle, she replied :
"The eldest is he that the Princess shall wed."
The King said he knew that already, and was curtly told
that if the replies did not give satisfaction he could go else-
where. So he went to the wise men and the magicians, and
346 THE QUEEN'S TRIPLETS.
held a levee of them, and they gave him such goodly coun-
sel that the Chief Magician was henceforth honoured with
the privilege of holding the Green, Black, and Blue Tricolour
over the King's head at mealtimes. Soon after, it being the
"THE CHIEF MAGICIAN."
twelfth moon, the King set forward with a little retinue to
meet the Princess of Paphlagonia, whose coming had got
abroad ; but returned two days later with the news that the
Princess was confined to her room, and would not arrive in
the city till next year.
On the last day of the year the King
summoned the three Princes to the Pres-
ence Chamber. And they came, the Green )
Prince, and the Blue Prince, and the Black
Prince, and made obeisance to the Mon-
arch, who sat in moir antique robes, on tfie
old gold throne, with his courtiers all around him.
" My sons," he said, " ye are aware that, ac-
cording to the immemorial laws of the realm, one
of you is to be my heir, only I know not which
of you he is ; the difficulty is complicated by the
fact that I have covenanted to espouse him to
the Princess of Paphlagonia, of whose imminent
arrival ye have heard. In this dilemma there are
those who would set the sovereignty of the
State upon the hazard of a die. But not by
such undignified methods do I deem it
prudent to extort the designs of the gods.
There are ways alike more honour-
able to you and to me of ascertaining
the intentions of the fates. And
first, the wise men and the magi-
cians recommend that ye be all
three sent forth upon an ardu-
ous emprise. As all men know, -^jE-.
348
THE QUEEN'S TRIPLETS.
somewhere in the great seas that engirdle our dominion,
somewhere beyond the Ultimate Thule, there rangeth a vast
monster, intolerable, not to be borne. Every ninth moon
this creature approacheth our coasts, deluging the land with
an inky vomit. This plaguy Serpent cannot be slain, for
'"THERE RANGETH A VAST MONSTER.'"
the soothsayers aver it beareth a charmed life, but it were a
mighty achievement, if for only one year, the realm could be
relieved of its oppression. Are ye willing to set forth sepa-
rately upon this knightly quest ? "
Then the three Princes made enthusiastic answer, en-
treating to be sped on the journey forthwith, and a great
THE QUEEN'S TRIPLETS. 349
gladness ran through the Presence Chamber, for all had
suffered much from the annual incursions of the monster.
And the King's heart was fain of the gallant spirit of the
Princes.
" 'Tis well," said he. "To-morrow, at the first dawn of
the new year, shall ye fare forth together ; when ye reach
the river ye shall part, and for eight moons shall ye wander
whither ye will ; only, when the ninth moon rises, shall ye
return and tell me how ye have fared. Hasten now, there-
fore, and equip yourselves as ye desire, and if there be aught
that will help you in the task, ye have but to ask for it."
Then, answering quickly before his brothers could speak,
the Black Prince cried : " Sire, I would crave the magic
boat which saileth under the sea and destroyeth mighty
armaments."
" It is thine," replied the King.
Then the Green Prince said : " Sire, grant me the magic
car which saileth through the air over the great seas."
The Black Prince started and frowned, but the King
answered, " It is granted." Then, turning to the Blue Prince,
who seemed lost in meditation, the King said : " Why art
thou silent, my son? Is there nothing I can give thee? "
"Thanks, I will take a little pigeon," answered the Blue
Prince abstractedly.
The courtiers stared and giggled, and the Black Prince
chuckled, but the Blue Prince was seemingly too proud to
back out of his request.
So at sunrise on the morrow the three Princes set .forth,
journeying together till they came to the river where they
had agreed to part company. Here the magic boat was
floating at anchor, while the magic car was tied to the trunk
of a plane-tree upon the bank, and the little pigeon, fastened
by a thread, was fluttering among the branches.
350 THE QUEEN'S TRIPLETS.
Now, when the Green Prince saw the puny pigeon, he
was like to die of laughing.
"Dost thou think to feed the Serpent with thy pigeon?"
he sneered. "I fear me thou wilt not choke him off thus."
"And what hast thou to laugh at?" retorted the Black
Prince, interposing. " Dost thou think to find the Serpent
of the Sea in the air?"
" He is always in the air," murmured the Blue Prince,
inaudibly.
" Nay," said the Green Prince, scratching his head
dubiously. " But thou didst so hastily annex the magic
boat, I had to take the next best thing."
"Dost thou accuse me of unfairness?" cried the Black
Prince in a pained voice. " Sooner than thou shouldst say
that, I would change with thee."
"Wouldst thou, indeed?" enquired the Green Prince
eagerly.
"Ay, that would I," said the Black Prince indignantly.
" Take the magic boat, and may the gods speed thee." So
saying he jumped briskly into the magic car, cut the rope,
and sailed aloft. Then, looking down contemptuously upon
the Blue Prince, he shouted :' " Come, mount thy pigeon,
and be off in search of the monster."
But the Blue Prince replied, " I will await you here."
Then the Green Prince pushed off his boat, chuckling
louder than ever. " Dost thou expect to keep the creature
off our coasts by guarding the head of the river ? " he scoffed.
But the Blue Prince replied, " I will await you both here
till the ninth moon."
No sooner were his brothers gone than the Blue Prince
set about building a hut. Here he lived happily, fishing his
meals out of the river or snaring them out of the sky. The
pigeon was never for a moment in danger of being eaten.
THE QUEEN'S TRIPLETS. 361
It was employed more agreeably to itself and its master in
operations which will appear anon. Most of the time the
Blue Prince lay on his back among the wild flowers, watch-
ing the river rippling to the sea or counting the passing of
the eight moons, that alternately swelled and dwindled, now
showing like the orb of the Black Prince's car, now like the
Green Prince's boat. Sometimes he read scraps of papyrus,
and his face shone.
One lovely starry night, as the Blue Prince was watching
the heavens, it seemed to him as if the eighth moon in
dying had dropped out of the firmament and was falling
upon him. But it was only the Black Prince come back.
His garments were powdered with snow, his brows were
knitted gloomily, he had a dejected, despondent aspect.
"Thou here !" he snapped.
" Of course," said the Blue Prince cheerfully, though he
seemed a little embarrassed all the same. " Haven't I been
here all the time ? But go into my hut, I've kept supper
hot for thee."
"Has the Green Prince had his?"
" No, I haven't seen anything of him. Hast thou scotched
the Serpent?"
" No, I haven't seen anything of him," growled the Black
Prince. "I've passed backwards and forwards over the
entire face of the ocean, but nowhere have I caught the
slightest glimpse of him. What a fool I was to give up
the magic boat ! He never seems to come to the surface."
All this while the Blue Prince was dragging his brother
with suspicious solicitude towards the hut, where he sat him
down to his own supper of ortolans and oysters. But the
host had no sooner run outside again, on the pretext of
seeing if the Green Prince was coming, than there was
a disturbance and eddying in the stream as of a rally of
362
THE QUEEN'S TJUPLETS.
water-rats, and the magic
boat shot up like a cata-
pult, and the Green Prince stepped on
deck all dry and dusty, and with the air
of a draggled dragon-fly.
"Good evening, hast thou er
scotched the Serpent?" stammered the
Blue Prince, taken aback.
" No, I haven't even seen
anything of him," growled
the Green Prince. "I
have skimmed along
the entire surface of
the ocean, and
sailed every
inch beneath it, T ^-=^~ l
but nowhere
THE QUEEN'S TRIPLETS. 353
have I caught the slightest glimpse of him. What a fool
I was to give up the magic car ! From a height I could
have commanded an ampler area of ocean. Perhaps he
was up the river."
" No, I haven't seen anything of him," replied the Blue
Prince hastily. " But go into my hut, thy supper must be
getting quite cold." He hurried his verdant brother into
the hut, and gave him some chestnuts out of the oven (it
was the best he could do for him), and then rushed outside
again, on the plea of seeing if the Serpent was coming. But
he seemed to expect him to come from the sky, for, leaning
against the trunk of the plane-tree by the river, he resumed
his anxious scrutiny of the constellations. Presently there
was a gentle whirring in the air, and a white bird became
visible, flying rapidly downwards in his direction. Almost
at the same instant he felt himself pinioned by a rope to
the tree-trunk, and saw the legs of the alighting pigeon
neatly prisoned in the Black Prince's fist.
"Aha !" croaked the Black Prince triumphantly. "Now
we shall see through thy little schemes."
He detached the slip of papyrus which dangled from the
pigeon's neck.
"How darest thou read my letters?" gasped the Blue
Prince.
" If I dare to rob the mail, I shall certainly not hesitate
to read the letters," answered the Black Prince coolly, and
went on to enunciate slowly (for the light was bad) the
following lines :
" Heart-sick I watch the old moon's ling'ring death,
And long upon my face to feel thy breath;
I burn to see its final flicker die,
And greet our moon of honey in the sky."
354
THE QUEEN'S TRIPLETS.
" What is all this moonshine ? " he concluded in bewilder-
ment.
Now the Blue Prince was the soul of candour, and seeing
that nothing could now be lost by telling the truth, he
answered :
" This is a letter from a damsel who resideth in the Tower
of Telifonia, on the outskirts of the capital ; we are
engaged. No doubt the lan-
guage seemeth to thee a little
overdone, but wait till thy turn
cometh."
" And so thou hast employed
this pigeon as a carrier between
thee and this suburban young
person ? " cried the Black
Prince, feeling vaguely boiling
over with rage.
"Even so," answered his
brother, " but guard thy tongue.
The lady of whom thou speak-
est so disrespectfully is none
other than the Princess of
Paphlagonia."
"Eh? What?" gasped the
Black Prince.
" She hath resided there since the twelfth moon of last
year. The King received her the first time he set out to
meet her."
" Dost thou dare say the King hath spoken untruth? "
" Nay, nay. The King is a wise man. Wise men never
mean what they say. The King said she was confined to
her room. It is true, for he had confined her in the Tower
with her maidens for fear she should fall in love with the
THE DAMSEL OF THE TOWER.
THE QUEEN'S TRIPLETS. 355
wrong Prince, or the reverse, before the rightful heir was
discovered. The King said she would not arrive in the city
till next year. This also is true. As thou didst rightly ob-
serve, the Tower of Telifonia is situated in the suburbs.
The King did not bargain for my discovering that a beauti-
ful woman lived in its topmost turret."
" Nay, how couldst thou discover that ? The King did
not lend thee the magic car, and thou certainly couldst not
see her at that height without the magic glass ! "
" I have not seen her. But through the embrasure I
often saw the sunlight flashing and leaping like a thing of
life, and I knew it was what the children call a ' Johnny
Noddy.' Now a ' Johnny Noddy ' argueth a mirror, and
a mirror argueth a woman, and frequent use thereof argueth
a beautiful woman. So, when in the Presence Chamber the
King told us of his dilemma as to the hand of the Princess
of Paphlagonia, it instantly dawned upon me who the beau-
tiful woman was, and why the King was keeping her hidden
away, and why he had hidden away his meaning also.
Wherefore straightway I asked for a pigeon, knowing that
the pigeons of the town roost on the Tower of Telifonia, so
that I had but to fly my bird at the end of a long string
like a kite to establish communication between me and the
fair captive. In time my little messenger grew so used to
the journey to and fro that I could dispense with the string.
Our courtship has been most satisfactory. We love each
other ardently, and '
" But you have never seen each other ! " interrupted the
Black Prince.
" Thou forgettest we are both royal personages," said the
Blue 
