It was definitely decided to let the two candidates neutralise each other.
"Vat vill you give me if I find you a Redacteur?" suddenly asked Pinchas. "I give up my editorial seat----"
"Editorial coal-scuttle," growled Ebenezer.
"Pooh! I find you a first-cla.s.s Redacteur, who vill not vant a big salary; perhaps he vill do it for nothing. How much commission vill you give me?"
"Ten shillings on every pound if he does not want a big salary," said De Haan instantly, "and twelve and sixpence on every pound if he does it for nothing."
And Pinchas, who was easily bamboozled when finance became complex, went out to find Raphael.
Thus, at the next meeting, the poet produced Raphael in triumph, and Gradkoski, who loved a reputation for sagacity, turned a little green with disgust at his own forgetfulness. Gradkoski was among those founders of the Holy Land League with whom Raphael had kept up relations, and he could not deny that the young enthusiast was the ideal man for the post. De Haan, who was busy directing the clerks to write out ten thousand wrappers for the first number, and who had never heard of Raphael before, held a whispered confabulation with Gradkoski and Schlesinger, and in a few moments Raphael was rescued from obscurity and appointed to the editorship of _The Flag of Judah_ at a salary of nothing a year. De Haan immediately conceived a vast contemptuous admiration of the man.
"You von"t forget me," whispered Pinchas, b.u.t.tonholing the editor at the first opportunity, and placing his forefinger insinuatively alongside his nose. "You vill remember that I expect a commission on your salary."
Raphael smiled good-naturedly, and, turning to De Haan, said:
"But do you think there is any hope of a circulation?"
"A circulation, sir, a circulation!" repeated De Haan. "Why, we shall not be able to print fast enough. There are seventy thousand orthodox Jews in London alone."
"And besides," added Gradkoski, in a corroboration strongly like a contradiction, "we shall not have to rely on the circulation.
Newspapers depend on their advertis.e.m.e.nts."
"Do they?" said Raphael helplessly.
"Of course," said Gradkoski, with his air of worldly wisdom. "And don"t you see, being a religious paper, we are bound to get all the communal advertis.e.m.e.nts. Why, we get the Co-operative Kosher Society to start with."
"Yes, but we ain"t going to pay for that," said Sugarman the Shadchan.
"That doesn"t matter," said De Haan. "It"ll look well. We can fill up a whole page with it. You know what Jews are; they won"t ask, "Is this paper wanted?" they"ll balance it in their hand, as if weighing up the value of the advertis.e.m.e.nts, and ask, "Does it pay?" But it _will_ pay! it must pay! With you at the head of it, Mr. Leon, a man whose fame and piety are known and respected wherever a _Mezuzah_ adorns a doorpost; a man who is in sympathy with the East End, and has the ear of the West; a man who will preach the purest Judaism in the best English--with such a man at the head of it we shall be able to ask bigger prices for advertis.e.m.e.nts than the existing Jewish papers."
Raphael left the office in a transport of enthusiasm, full of Messianic emotions.
At the next meeting he announced that he was afraid he could not undertake the charge of the paper. Amid universal consternation, tempered by the exultation of Ebenezer, he explained that he had been thinking it over, and did not see how it could be done. He said he had been carefully studying the existing communal organs, and saw that they dealt with many matters of which he knew nothing; whilst he might be competent to form the taste of the community in religious and literary matters, it appeared that the community was chiefly excited about elections and charities.
"Moreover," said he, "I noticed that it is expected of these papers to publish obituaries of communal celebrities, for whose biographies no adequate materials are anywhere extant. It would scarcely be decent to obtrude upon the sacred grief of the bereaved relatives with a request for particulars."
"Oh, that"s all right," laughed De Haan. "I"m sure _my_ wife would be glad to give you any information."
"Of course, of course," said Gradkoski soothingly. "You will get the obituaries sent in of themselves by the relatives."
Raphael"s brow expressed surprise and incredulity.
"And, besides, we are not going to crack up the same people as the other papers," said De Haan: "otherwise we should not supply a want.
We must dole out our praise and blame quite differently, and we must be very scrupulous to give only a little praise, so that it shall be valued the more."
He stroked his white beard tranquilly.
"But how about meetings?" urged Raphael; "I find that sometimes two take place at once. I can go to one, but I can"t be at both."
"Oh, that will be all right," said De Haan airily. "We will leave out one, and people will think it is unimportant. We are bringing out a paper for our own ends--not to report the speeches of busybodies."
Raphael was already exhibiting a conscientiousness which must be nipped in the bud. Seeing him silenced, Ebenezer burst forth anxiously:
"But Mr. Leon is right. There must be a sub-editor."
"Certainly there must be a sub-editor," cried Pinchas eagerly.
"Very well, then," said De Haan, struck with a sudden thought; "it is true Mr. Leon cannot do all the work. I know a young fellow who"ll be just the very thing. He"ll come for a pound a week."
"But I"ll come for a pound a week," said Ebenezer.
"Yes, but you won"t get it," said Schlesinger impatiently.
"_Sha_, Ebenezer!" said old Sugarman imperiously.
De Haan thereupon hunted up a young gentleman who dwelt in his mind as "Little Sampson," and straightway secured him at the price named. He was a lively young Bohemian, born in Australia, who had served an apprenticeship on the Anglo-Jewish press, worked his way up into the larger journalistic world without, and was now engaged in organising a comic-opera touring company, and in drifting back again into Jewish journalism. This young gentleman, who always wore long curling locks, an eyegla.s.s, and a romantic cloak which covered a mult.i.tude of shabbinesses, fully allayed Raphael"s fears as to the difficulties of editorship.
"Obituaries!" he said scornfully; "you rely on me for that. The people who are worth chronicling are sure to have lived in the back numbers of our contemporaries, and I can always hunt them up in the Museum. As for the people who are not, their families will send them in, and your only trouble will be to conciliate the families of those you ignore."
"But about all those meetings?" said Raphael.
"I"ll go to some," said the sub-editor good-naturedly, "whenever they don"t interfere with the rehearsals of my opera. You know, of course, I am bringing out a comic opera, composed by myself. Some lovely tunes in it! One goes like this: "Ta-ra-ra-ta, ta-dee-dum-dee." That"ll knock "em. Well, as I was saying, I"ll help you as much as I can find time for. You rely on me for that."
"Yes," said poor Raphael, with a sickly smile; "but suppose neither of us goes to some important meeting."
"No harm done. G.o.d bless you! I know the styles of all our chief speakers--ahem, ha!--pauperisation of the East End, ha!--I would emphatically say that this scheme--ahem!--his lordship"s untiring zeal for--hum!--the welfare of--and so on. Ta-dee-dum-da, ta-ra, rum-dee.
They always send on the agenda beforehand. That"s all I want, and I"ll lay you twenty to one I"ll turn out as good a report as any of our rivals. You rely on me for _that_. I know exactly how debates go. At the worst I can always swop with another reporter--a prize distribution for an obituary; or a funeral for a concert."
"And do you really think we two between us can fill up the paper every week?" said Raphael doubtfully.
Little Sampson broke into a shriek of laughter, dropped his eyegla.s.s, and collapsed helplessly into the coal-scuttle. The committee-men looked up from their confabulations in astonishment.
"Fill up the paper! Ho, ho, ho!" roared Little Sampson, still doubled up. "Evidently _you"ve_ never had anything to do with papers. Why, the reports of London and provincial sermons alone would fill three papers a week."
"Yes; but how are we to get these reports, especially from the provinces?"
"How? Ho, ho, ho!" and for some time Little Sampson was physically incapable of speech. "Don"t you know," he gasped, "that the ministers always send up their own sermons, pages upon pages of foolscap?"
"Indeed?" murmured Raphael.
"What, haven"t you noticed all Jewish sermons are "eloquent"?"
"They write that themselves?"
"Of course; sometimes they put "able," and sometimes "learned," but as a rule they prefer to be "eloquent." The run on that epithet is tremendous. Ta-dee-dum-da. In holiday seasons they are also very fond of "enthralling the audience," and of "melting them to tears"; but this is chiefly during the Ten Days of Repentance, or when a boy is _Bar-mitzvah_. Then think of the people who send in accounts of the oranges they gave away to Distressed Widows, or of the prizes won by their children at fourth-rate schools, or of the silver pointers they present to the synagogue. Whenever a reader sends a letter to an evening paper, he will want you to quote it, and if he writes a paragraph in the obscurest leaflet, he will want you to note it as "Literary Intelligence." Why, my dear fellow, your chief task will be to cut down. Ta-ra-ra-ta! Any Jewish paper could be entirely supported by voluntary contributions--as, for the matter of that, could any newspaper in the world." He got up and shook the coal-dust languidly from his cloak.
"Besides, we shall all be helping you with articles," said De Haan encouragingly.