I
Leopold Barstein, the sculptor, was sitting in his lonesome studio, brooding blackly over his dead illusions, when the postman brought him a letter in a large, straggling, unknown hand. It began "Angel of G.o.d!"
He laughed bitterly. "Just when I am at my most diabolical!" He did not at first read the letter, divining in it one of the many begging-letters which were the aftermath of his East-End Zionist period. But he turned over the page to see the name of the Orientally effusive scribe. It was "Nehemiah Silvermann, Dentist and Restaurateur." His laughter changed to a more genial note; his sense of humour was still saving. The figure of the restaurateur-dentist sprang to his imagination in marble on a pedestal. In one hand the figure held a cornucopia, in the other a pair of pincers. He read the letter.
"3A, THE MINORIES, E.
"ANGEL OF G.o.d,
"I have the honour now to ask Your very kind humane merciful cordial n.o.bility to a.s.sist me by Your clement philanthropical liberal relief in my very hard troublesome sorrows and worries, on which I suffer violently. I lost all my fortune, and I am ruined by Russia. I am here at present without means and dental practice, and my restaurant is impeded with lack of a few frivolous pounds. I do not know really what to do in my actual very disgraceful mischief. I heard the people saying Your propitious magnanimous beneficent charities are everywhere exceedingly well renowned and considerably gracious. Thus I solicit and supplicate Your good very kind genteel clement humanity by my very humble quite instant request to support me by Your merciful aid, and please to respond me as soon as possible according to Your generous very philanthropy in my urgent extreme immense difficulty.
"Your obedient servant respectfully, "NEHEMIAH SILVERMANN, "_Dentist and Restaurateur._"
Such a flood of language carried away the last remnants of Barstein"s melancholia; he saw his imagined statue showering adjectives from its cornucopia. "It is the cry of a dictionary in distress!" he murmured, re-reading the letter with unction.
It pleased his humour to reply in the baldest language. He asked for details of Silvermann"s circ.u.mstances and sorrows. Had he applied to the Russo-Jewish Fund, which existed to help such refugees from persecution? Did he know Jacobs, the dentist of the neighbouring Mansel Place?
Jacobs had been one of Barstein"s fellow-councillors in Zionism, a pragmatic inexhaustible debater in the small back room, and the voluble little man now loomed suddenly large as a possible authority upon his brother-dentist.
By return of post a second eruption descended upon the studio from the "dictionary in distress."
"3A, THE MINORIES, E.
"MOST HONOURABLE AND ANGELICAL MR. LEOPOLD BARSTEIN,
"I have the honour now to thank You for Your kind answer of my letter. I did not succeed here by my vital experience in the last of ten years. I got my livelihood a certain time by my dental practice so long there was not a hard violent compet.i.tion, then I had never any efficacious relief, protection, then I have no relation, then we and the time are changeable too, then without money is impossible to perform any matter, if I had at present in my grieved desperate position 4 for my restaurant, then I were rescued. I do not earn anything, and I must despond at last, I perish here, in Russia I was ruined, please to aid me in Your merciful humanity by something, if I had 15 I could start off from here to go somewhere to look for my daily bread, and if I had 30 so I shall go to Jerusalem because I am convinced by my bitter and sour troubles and shocking tribulations here is nothing to do any more for me. I have not been in the Russo-Jewish fund and do not know it where it is, and if it is in the Jewish shelter of Leman Street so I have no protection, no introduction, no recommendation for it. Poverty has very seldom a few clement humane good people and little friends.
The people say Jacobs the dentist of Mansel Place is not a good man, and so it is I tried it for he makes the impossible compet.i.tion. I ask Your good genteel cordial n.o.bility according to the universal good reputation of Your gracious goodness to reply me quick by some help now.
"Your obedient Servant respectfully, "NEHEMIAH SILVERMANN, "_Dentist and Restaurateur._"
This letter threw a new but not rea.s.suring light upon the situation.
Instead of being a victim of the Russian troubles, a recent refugee from ma.s.sacre and robbery, Nehemiah had already existed in London for ten years, and although he might originally have been ruined by Russia, he had survived his ruin by a decade. His ideas of his future seemed as hazy as his past. Four pounds would be a very present help; he could continue his London career. With fifteen pounds he was ready to start off anywhither. With thirty pounds he would end all his troubles in Jerusalem. Such nebulousness appeared to necessitate a personal visit, and the next day, finding himself in bad form, Barstein angrily bashed in a clay visage, clapped on his hat, and repaired to the Minories. But he looked in vain for either a dentist or a restaurant at No. 3A. It appeared a humble corner residence, trying to edge itself into the important street. At last, after wandering uncertainly up and down, he knocked at the shabby door. A frowsy woman with long earrings opened it staring, and said that the Silvermanns occupied two rooms on her second floor.
"What!" cried Barstein. "Is he married?"
"I should hope so," replied the landlady severely. "He has eleven children at least."
Barstein mounted the narrow carpetless stairs, and was received by Mrs. Silvermann and her brood with much consternation and ceremony.
The family filled the whole front room and overflowed into the back, which appeared to be a sort of kitchen, for Mrs. Silvermann had rushed thence with tucked-up sleeves, and sounds of frying still proceeded from it. But Mr. Silvermann was not at home, the small, faded, bewigged creature told him apologetically. Barstein looked curiously round the room, half expecting indications of dentistry or dining. But he saw only a minimum of broken-down furniture, bottomless cane chairs, a wooden table and a cracked mirror, a hanging shelf heaped with ragged books, and a standing cupboard which obviously turned into a bedstead at night for half the family. But of a dentist"s chair there was not even the ruins. His eyes wandered over the broken-backed books--some were indeed "dictionaries in distress." He noted a Russo-German and a German-English. Then the sounds of frying penetrated more keenly to his brain.
"You are the cook of the restaurant?" he inquired.
"Restaurant!" echoed the woman resentfully. "Have I not enough cooking to do for my own family? And where shall I find money to keep a restaurant?"
"Your husband said----" murmured Barstein, as in guilty confusion.
A squalling from the overflow offspring in the kitchen drew off the mother for a moment, leaving him surrounded by an open-eyed juvenile mob. From the rear he heard smacks, loud whispers and whimperings.
Then the poor woman reappeared, bearing what seemed a scrubbing-board.
She placed it over one of the caneless chairs, and begged his Excellency to be seated. It was a half holiday at the school, she complained, otherwise her family would be less numerous.
"Where does your husband do his dentistry?" Barstein inquired, seating himself cautiously upon the board.
"Do I know?" said his wife. "He goes out, he comes in." At this moment, to Barstein"s great satisfaction, he did come in.
"Holy angel!" he cried, rushing at the hem of Barstein"s coat, and kissing it reverently. He was a gaunt, melancholy figure, elongated to over six feet, and still further exaggerated by a rusty top-hat of the tallest possible chimneypot, and a threadbare frockcoat of the longest possible tails. At his advent his wife, vastly relieved, shepherded her flock into the kitchen and closed the door, leaving Barstein alone with the long man, who seemed, as he stood gazing at his visitor, positively soaring heavenwards with rapture.
But Barstein inquired brutally: "Where do you do your dentistry?"
"Never mind me," replied Nehemiah ecstatically. "Let me look on you!"
And a more pa.s.sionate worship came into his tranced gaze.
But Barstein, feeling duped, replied sternly: "Where do you do your dentistry?"
The question seemed to take some moments penetrating through Nehemiah"s rapt brain, but at last he replied pathetically: "And where shall I find achers? In Russia I had my living of it. Here I have no friends."
The homeliness of his vocabulary amused Barstein. Evidently the dictionary _was_ his fount of inspiration. Without it Niagara was reduced to a trickle. He seemed indeed quite shy of speech, preferring to gaze with large liquid eyes.
"But you _have_ managed to live here for ten years," Barstein pointed out.
"You see how merciful G.o.d is!" Nehemiah rejoined eagerly. "Never once has He deserted me and my children."
"But what have you done?" inquired Barstein.
The first shade of reproach came into Nehemiah"s eyes.
"Ask sooner what the Almighty has done," he said.
Barstein felt rebuked. One does not like to lose one"s character as a holy angel. "But your restaurant?" he said. "Where is that?"
"That is here."
"Here!" echoed Barstein, staring round again.
"Where else? Here is a wide opening for a _kosher_ restaurant. There are hundreds and hundreds of Greeners lodging all around--poor young men with only a bed or a corner of a room to sleep on. They know not where to go to eat, and my wife, G.o.d be thanked, is a knowing cook."
"Oh, then, your restaurant is only an idea."
"Naturally--a counsel that I have given myself."
"But have you enough plates and dishes and tablecloths? Can you afford to buy the food, and to risk it"s not being eaten?"
Nehemiah raised his hands to heaven.
"Not being eaten! With a family like mine!"
Barstein laughed in spite of himself. And he was softened by noting how sensitive and artistic were Nehemiah"s outspread hands--they might well have wielded the forceps. "Yes, I dare say that is what will happen," he said. "How can you keep a restaurant up two pairs of stairs where no pa.s.ser-by will ever see it?"