WISH FULFILLED — EXTRAORDINARY FIGURE — BUENO — NOAH — THE TWO FACES — I DON’T
BLAME HIM — OF MONEY
The fulfilment of the Armenian’s
grand wish was nearer at hand than either he or I
had anticipated. Partly owing to the success
of a bold speculation, in which he had some time previously
engaged, and partly owing to the bequest of a large
sum of money by one of his nation who died at this
period in Paris, he found himself in the possession
of a fortune somewhat exceeding two hundred thousand
pounds; this fact he communicated to me one evening
about an hour after the close of ’Change; the
hour at which I generally called, and at which I mostly
found him at home.
‘Well,’ said I, ‘and what do you
intend to do next?’
‘I scarcely know,’ said
the Armenian. ’I was thinking of that when
you came in. I don’t see anything that
I can do, save going on in my former course.
After all, I was perhaps too moderate in making the
possession of two hundred thousand pounds the summit
of my ambition; there are many individuals in this
town who possess three times that sum, and are not
yet satisfied. No, I think I can do no better
than pursue the old career; who knows but I may make
the two hundred thousand three or four? — there
is already a surplus, which is an encouragement; however,
we will consider the matter over a goblet of wine;
I have observed of late that you have become partial
to my Cyprus.’
And it came to pass that, as we were
seated over the Cyprus wine, we heard a knock at the
door. ‘Adelante!’ cried the
Armenian; whereupon the door opened, and in walked
a somewhat extraordinary figure — a man in
a long loose tunic of a stuff striped with black and
yellow; breeches of plush velvet, silk stockings,
and shoes with silver buckles. On his head he
wore a high-peaked hat; he was tall, had a hooked nose,
and in age was about fifty.
‘Welcome, Rabbi Manasseh,’
said the Armenian. ’I know your knock — you
are welcome; sit down.’
‘I am welcome,’ said Manasseh,
sitting down; ’he — he — he!
you know my knock — I bring you money — bueno!’
There was something very peculiar
in the sound of that bueno — I never
forgot it.
Thereupon a conversation ensued between
Rabbi Manasseh and the Armenian, in a language which
I knew to be Spanish, though a peculiar dialect.
It related to a mercantile transaction. The
Rabbi sighed heavily as he delivered to the other
a considerable sum of money.
‘It is right,’ said the
Armenian, handing a receipt. ’It is right;
and I am quite satisfied.’
’You are satisfied — you
have taken money. Bueno, I have nothing to
say against your being satisfied.’
‘Come, Rabbi,’ said the
Armenian, ’do not despond; it may be your turn
next to take money; in the meantime, can’t you
be persuaded to taste my Cyprus?’
’He — he — he!
senor, you know I do not love wine. I love Noah
when he is himself; but, as Janus, I love him not.
But you are merry; bueno, you have a right
to be so.’
‘Excuse me,’ said I, ‘but
does Noah ever appear as Janus?’
‘He — he — he!’
said the Rabbi, ’he only appeared as Janus
once una vez quando
estuvo borracho; which means — ’
‘I understand,’ said I;
’when he was . . . ’ and I drew the side
of my right hand sharply across my left wrist.
‘Are you one of our people?’ said the
Rabbi.
‘No,’ said I, ’I
am one of the Goyim; but I am only half enlightened.
Why should Noah be Janus when he was in that state?’
‘He — he — he!
you must know that in Lasan akhades wine is janin.’
‘In Armenian, kini,’ said
I; ’in Welsh, gwin; Latin, vinum; but do
you think that Janus and janin are one?’
’Do I think? Don’t
the commentators say so? Does not Master Leo
Abarbenel say so in his Dialogues of Divine Love?’
‘But,’ said I, ’I
always thought that Janus was a god of the ancient
Romans, who stood in a temple open in time of war,
and shut in time of peace; he was represented with
two faces, which — which — ’
‘He — he — he!’
said the Rabbi, rising from his seat; ’he had
two faces, had he? And what did those two faces
typify? You do not know; no, nor did the Romans
who carved him with two faces know why they did so;
for they were only half enlightened, like you and
the rest of the Goyim. Yet they were right
in carving him with two faces looking from each other — they
were right, though they knew not why; there was a tradition
among them that the Janinoso had two faces, but they
knew not that one was for the world which was gone
and the other for the world before him — for
the drowned world and for the present, as Master Leo
Abarbenel says in his Dialogues of Divine Love.
He — he — he!’ continued the
Rabbi, who had by this time advanced to the door, and,
turning round, waved the two forefingers of his right
hand in our faces; ’the Goyims and Epicouraiyim
are clever men, they know how to make money better
than we of Israel. My good friend there is a
clever man, I bring him money, he never brought me
any; bueno, I do not blame him, he knows much,
very much; but one thing there is my friend does not
know, nor any of the Epicureans, he does not know
the sacred thing — he has never received the
gift of interpretation which God alone gives to the
seed — he has his gift, I have mine — he
is satisfied, I don’t blame him, bueno.’
And, with this last word in his mouth, he departed.
‘Is that man a native of Spain?’ I demanded.
‘Not a native of Spain,’
said the Armenian, ’though he is one of those
who call themselves Spanish Jews, and who are to be
found scattered throughout Europe, speaking the Spanish
language transmitted to them by their ancestors, who
were expelled from Spain in the time of Ferdinand
and Isabella.’
‘The Jews are a singular people,’ said
I.
‘A race of cowards and dastards,’
said the Armenian, ’without a home or country;
servants to servants; persecuted and despised by all.’
‘And what are the Haïks?’ I demanded.
‘Very different from the Jews,’
replied the Armenian; ’the Haïks have a
home — a country, and can occasionally use
a good sword; though it is true they are not what
they might be.’
‘Then it is a shame that they
do not become so,’ said I; ’but they are
too fond of money. There is yourself, with two
hundred thousand pounds in your pocket, craving for
more, whilst you might be turning your wealth to the
service of your country.’
‘In what manner?’ said the Armenian.
’I have heard you say that the
grand oppressor of your country is the Persian; why
not attempt to free your country from his oppression — you
have two hundred thousand pounds, and money is the
sinew of war?’
‘Would you, then, have me attack the Persian?’
’I scarcely know what to say;
fighting is a rough trade, and I am by no means certain
that you are calculated for the scratch. It is
not every one who has been brought up in the school
of Mr. Petulengro and Tawno Chikno. All I can
say is, that if I were an Armenian, and had two hundred
thousand pounds to back me, I would attack the Persian.’
‘Hem!’ said the Armenian.