Chapter 14

IT WAS with a sorry heart that I bade farewell to my Viennafriends, my musical comrades, the Legation hospitalities, andmy faithful little Israelite. But the colt frisks over thepasture from sheer superfluity of energy; and between one'ssecond and third decades instinctive restlessness -spontaneous movement - is the law of one's being. 'Tis thenthat 'Hope builds as fast as knowledge can destroy.' Theenjoyment we abandon is never so sweet as that we seek.

　　'Pleasure never is at home.' Happiness means action for itsown sake, change, incessant change.

　　I sought and found it in Bavaria, Bohemia, Russia, all overGermany, and dropped anchor one day in Cracow; a weekafterwards in Warsaw. These were out-of-the-way places then;there were no tourists in those days; I did not meet a singlecompatriot either in the Polish or Russian town.

　　At Warsaw I had an adventure not unlike that which befell meat Vienna. The whole of Europe, remember, was in a state ofpolitical ferment. Poland was at least as ready to riseagainst its oppressor then as now; and the police wasproportionately strict and arbitrary. An army corps wasencamped on the right bank of the Vistula, ready for expectedemergencies. Under these circumstances, passports, as may besupposed, were carefully inspected; except in those ofBritish subjects, the person of the bearer was described -his height, the colour of his hair (if he had any), or anymark that distinguished him.

　　In my passport, after my name, was added 'ET SON DOMESTIQUE.'

　　The inspector who examined it at the frontier pointed tothis, and, in indifferent German, asked me where thatindividual was. I replied that I had sent him with mybaggage to Dresden, to await my arrival there. Aconsultation thereupon took place with another official, in alanguage I did not understand; and to my dismay I wasinformed that I was - in custody. The small portmanteau Ihad with me, together with my despatch-box, was seized; thelatter contained a quantity of letters and my journal. Moneyonly was I permitted to retain.

　　Quite by the way, but adding greatly to my discomfort, wasthe fact that since leaving Prague, where I had relinquishedeverything I could dispense with, I had had much nighttravelling amongst native passengers, who so valuedcleanliness that they economised it with religious care. Bythe time I reached Warsaw, I may say, without metonymy, thatI was itching (all over) for a bath and a change of linen.

　　My irritation, indeed, was at its height. But there was noappeal; and on my arrival I was haled before the authorities.

　　Again, their head was a general officer, though not the leastlike my portly friend at Vienna. His business was to sit injudgment upon delinquents such as I. He was a spare, austereman, surrounded by a sharp-looking aide-de-camp, severalclerks in uniform, and two or three men in mufti, whom I tookto be detectives. The inspector who arrested me was presentwith my open despatch-box and journal. The journal he handedto the aide, who began at once to look it through while hischief was disposing of another case.

　　To be suspected and dragged before this tribunal was, for thetime being (as I afterwards learnt) almost tantamount tocondemnation. As soon as the General had sentenced mypredecessor, I was accosted as a self-convicted criminal.

　　Fortunately he spoke French like a Frenchman; and, as itpresently appeared, a few words of English.

　　'What country do you belong to?' he asked, as if the questionwas but a matter of form, put for decency's sake - a mereprelude to committal.

　　'England, of course; you can see that by my passport.' I wasdetermined to fence him with his own weapons. Indeed, inthose innocent days of my youth, I enjoyed a genuine Britishcontempt for foreigners - in the lump - which, after all, isabout as impartial a sentiment as its converse, that one'sown country is always in the wrong.

　　'Where did you get it?' (with a face of stone).

　　PRISONER (NAIVELY): 'Where did I get it? I do not followyou.' (Don't forget, please, that said prisoner's apparelwas unvaleted, his hands unwashed, his linen unchanged, hishair unkempt, and his face unshaven).

　　GENERAL (stonily): '"Where did you get it?" was my question.'

　　PRISONER (quietly): 'From Lord Palmerston.'

　　GENERAL (glancing at that Minister's signature): 'It sayshere, "et son domestique" - you have no domestique.'

　　PRISONER (calmly): 'Pardon me, I have a domestic.'

　　GENERAL (with severity), 'Where is he?'

　　PRISONER: 'At Dresden by this time, I hope.'

　　GENERAL (receiving journal from aide-de-camp, who points to acertain page): 'You state here you were caught by theAustrians in a pretended escape from the Viennese insurgents;and add, "They evidently took me for a spy" [returningjournal to aide]. What is your explanation of this?'

　　PRISONER (shrugging shoulders disdainfully): 'In the firstplace, the word "pretended" is not in my journal. In thesecond, although of course it does not follow, if one takesanother person for a man of sagacity or a gentleman - it doesnot follow that he is either - still, when - '

　　GENERAL (with signs of impatience): 'I have here aPASSIERSCHEIN, found amongst your papers and signed by therebels. They would not have given you this, had you not beenon friendly terms with them. You will be detained until Ihave further particulars.'

　　PRISONER (angrily): 'I will assist you, through Her BritannicMajesty's Consul, with whom I claim the right to communicate.

　　I beg to inform you that I am neither a spy nor a socialist,but the son of an English peer' (heaven help the relevancy!).

　　'An Englishman has yet to learn that Lord Palmerston'ssignature is to be set at naught and treated with contumacy.'

　　The General beckoned to the inspector to put an end to theproceedings. But the aide, who had been studying thejournal, again placed it in his chief's hands. A colloquyensued, in which I overheard the name of Lord Ponsonby. Theenemy seemed to waver, so I charged with a renewed request tosee the English Consul. A pause; then some remarks inRussian from the aide; then the GENERAL (in suaver tones):

　　'The English Consul, I find, is absent on a month's leave.

　　If what you state is true, you acted unadvisedly in nothaving your passport altered and REVISE when you parted withyour servant. How long do you wish to remain here?'

　　Said I, 'Vous avez bien raison, Monsieur. Je suis evidemmentdans mon tort. Ma visite a Varsovie etait une aberration.

　　As to my stay, je suis deja tout ce qu'il y a de plus ennuye.

　　I have seen enough of Warsaw to last for the rest of mydays.'

　　Eventually my portmanteau and despatch-box were restored tome; and I took up my quarters in the filthiest inn (there wasno better, I believe) that it was ever my misfortune to lodgeat. It was ancient, dark, dirty, and dismal. My sitting-room (I had a cupboard besides to sleep in) had but onewindow, looking into a gloomy courtyard. The furnitureconsisted of two wooden chairs and a spavined horsehair sofa.

　　The ceiling was low and lamp-blacked; the stained paper fellin strips from the sweating walls; fortunately there was nocarpet; but if anything could have added to the occupier'sdepression it was the sight of his own distorted features ina shattered glass, which seemed to watch him like a detectiveand take notes of his movements - a real Russian mirror.

　　But the resources of one-and-twenty are not easily daunted,even by the presence of the CIMEX LECTULARIUS or the PULEXIRRITANS. I inquired for a LAQUAIS DE PLACE, - some humanbeing to consort with was the most pressing of immediatewants. As luck would have it, the very article was in thedreary courtyard, lurking spider-like for the innocenttraveller just arrived. Elective affinity brought us at onceto friendly intercourse. He was of the Hebrew race, as thelarger half of the Warsaw population still are. He was atypical Jew (all Jews are typical), though all are not sothin as was Beninsky. His eyes were sunk in sockets deepenedby the sharpness of his bird-of-prey beak; a single corkscrewringlet dropped tearfully down each cheek; and his one fronttooth seemed sometimes in his upper, sometimes in his lowerjaw. His skull-cap and his gabardine might have beenheirlooms from the Patriarch Jacob; and his poor hands seemedmade for clawing. But there was a humble and contrite spiritin his sad eyes. The history of his race was written inthem; but it was modern history that one read in theirhopeless and appealing look.

　　His cringing manner and his soft voice (we conversed inGerman) touched my heart. I have always had a liking for theJews. Who shall reckon how much some of us owe them! Theyhave always interested me as a peculiar people - admittingsometimes, as in poor Beninsky's case, of purifying, nodoubt; yet, if occasionally zealous (and who is not?) ofinterested works - cent. per cent. works, often - yes, moreoften than we Christians - zealous of good works, of open-handed, large-hearted munificence, of charity in itsdemocratic and noblest sense. Shame upon the nations whichdespise and persecute them for faults which they, thepersecutors, have begotten! Shame on those who have extortedboth their money and their teeth! I think if I were a Jew Ishould chuckle to see my shekels furnish all the wars inwhich Christians cut one another's Christian weasands.

　　And who has not a tenderness for the 'beautiful and well-favoured' Rachels, and the 'tender-eyed' Leahs, and thetricksy little Zilpahs, and the Rebekahs, from the wife ofIsaac of Gerar to the daughter of Isaac of York? Who wouldnot love to sit with Jessica where moonlight sleeps, andwatch the patines of bright gold reflected in her heavenlyorbs? I once knew a Jessica, a Polish Jessica, who - butthat was in Vienna, more than half a century ago.

　　Beninsky's orbs brightened visibly when I bade him break hisfast at my high tea. I ordered everything they had in thehouse I think, - a cold Pomeranian GANSEBRUST, a garlickyWURST, and GERAUCHERTE LACHS. I had a packet of my ownFortnum and Mason's Souchong; and when the stove gave out itsglow, and the samovar its music, Beninsky's gratitude and hishunger passed the limits of restraint. Late into the nightwe smoked our meerschaums.

　　When I spoke of the Russians, he got up nervously to see thedoor was shut, and whispered with bated breath. What arelief it was to him to meet a man to whom he could pour outhis griefs, his double griefs, as Pole and Israelite. Beforewe parted I made him put the remains of the sausage (!) andthe goose-breast under his petticoats. I bade him come to mein the morning and show me all that was worth seeing inWarsaw. When he left, with tears in his eyes, I was consoledto think that for one night at any rate he and his GANSEBRUSTand sausage would rest peacefully in Abraham's bosom. WhatAbraham would say to the sausage I did not ask; nor perhapsdid my poor Beninsky.