The call to edit the new Jewish paper seemed to Raphael the voice of Providence. It came just when he was hesitating about his future, divided between the attractions of the ministry, pure Hebrew scholarship, and philanthropy. The idea of a paper destroyed these conflicting claims by comprehending them all. A paper would be at once a pulpit, a medium for organising effective human service, and an incentive to serious study in the preparation of scholarly articles.
The paper was to be the property of the Co-operative Kosher Society, an association originally founded to supply unimpeachable Passover cakes. It was suspected by the pious that there was a taint of heresy in the flour used by the ordinary bakers, and it was remarked that the Rabbinate itself imported itsMotsosfrom abroad. Successful in its first object, the Co-operative Kosher Society extended its operations to more perennial commodities, and sought to save Judaism from dubious cheese and butter, as well as to provide public baths for women in accordance with the precepts of Leviticus.
But these ideals were not so easy to achieve, and so gradually the idea of a paper to preach them to a godless age formed itself. The members of the Society met in Aaron Schlesinger's back office to consider them. Schlesinger was a cigar-merchant, and the discussions of the Society were invariably obscured by gratuitous smoke. Schlesinger's junior partner, Lewis De Haan, who also had a separate business as a surveyor, was the soul of the Society, and talked a great deal. He was a stalwart old man, with a fine imagination and figure, boundless optimism, a big biceps, a long venerable white beard, a keen sense of humour, and a versatility which enabled himto turn from the price of real estate to the elucidation of a Talmudical difficulty, and from the consignment of cigars to the organisation of apostolic movements. Among the leading spirits were our old friends Karlkammer the red-haired zealot, Sugarman the Shadchan, and Guedalyah the Greengrocer, together with Gradkoski the scholar, fancy-goods merchant, and man of the world. A furniture-dealer, who was always failing, was also an important personage; while Ebenezer Sugarman, a young man who had once translated a romance from the Dutch, acted as secretary. Melchitzedek Pinchas invariably turned up at the meetings, and smoked Schlesinger's cigars. He was not a member; he had not qualified himself by taking ten pound shares (far from fully paid up), but nobody liked to eject him, and no hint less strong than a physical would have moved the poet.
All the members of the council of the Co-operative Kosher Society spoke English volubly, and more or less grammatically, but none had sufficient confidence in the others to propose one of them for editor, though it is possible that none would have shrunk from having a shot. Diffidence is not a mark of the Jew. The claims of Ebenezer Sugarman and of Melchitzedek Pinchas were put forth most vehemently by Ebenezer and Melchitzedek respectively, and their mutual accusations of incompetence enlivened Mr. Schlesinger's back office.
'He ain't able to spell the commonest English words,' said Ebenezer, with a contemptuous guffaw that sounded like the croak of a raven.
The young littérateur, the sumptuousness of whoseBar-mitzvahparty was still a memory with his father, had lank black hair, with a long nose that supported blue spectacles.
'What does he know of the Holy Tongue?' croaked Melchitzedek witheringly, adding in a confidential whisper to the cigar-merchant, 'I and you, Schlesinger, are the only two men in England who can write the Holy Tongue grammatically.'
The little poet was as insinuative and volcanic (by turns) as ever. His beard was, however, better trimmed, andhis complexion healthier, and he looked younger than ten years ago. His clothes were quite spruce. For several years he had travelled about the Continent, mainly at Raphael's expense. He said his ideas came better in touring and at a distance from the unappreciative English Jewry. It was a pity, for with his linguistic genius his English would have been immaculate by this time. As it was, there was a considerable improvement in his writing, if not so much in his accent.
'What do I know of the Holy Tongue!' repeated Ebenezer scornfully. 'Hold yours!'
The committee laughed, but Schlesinger, who was a serious man, said:
'Business, gentlemen, business!'
'Come, then! I'll challenge you to translate a page ofMetatoron's Flames,' said Pinchas, skipping about the office like a sprightly grasshopper. 'You know no more than the Reverend Joseph Strelitski, vith his vite tie and his princely income.'
De Haan seized the poet by the collar, swung him off his feet, and tucked him up in the coal-scuttle.
'Yah!' croaked Ebenezer. 'Here's a fine editor. Ho! ho! ho!'
'We cannot have either of them. It's the only way to keep them quiet,' said the furniture-dealer who was always failing.
Ebenezer's face fell and his voice rose.
'I don't see why I should be sacrificed to'im. There ain't a man in England who can write English better than me. Why, everybody says so. Look at the success of my book,The Old Burgomaster, the best Dutch novel ever written. TheSt. Pancras Presssaid it reminded them of Lord Lytton—it did indeed. I can show you the paper. I can give you one each if you like. And, then, it ain't as if I didn't know 'Ebrew, too. Even if I was in doubt about anything, I could always go to my father. You give me this paper to manage, and I'll make your fortunes for you in a twelvemonth; I will, as sure as I stand here.'
Pinchas had made spluttering interruptions asfrequently as he could in resistance of De Haan's brawny hairy hand, which was pressed against his nose and mouth to keep him down in the coal-scuttle, but now he exploded with a force that shook off the hand like a bottle of soda-water expelling its cork.
'You Man-of-the-Earth,' he cried, sitting up in the coal-scuttle, 'you are not even orthodox. Here, my dear gentlemen, is the very position created by Heaven for me, in this disgraceful country vhere genius starves. Here at last you have the opportunity of covering yourself vid eternal glory. Have I not given you the idea of starting this paper? And vas I not born to be a Rédacteur, a editor, as you call it? Into the paper I vill pour all the fires of my song.'
'Yes, burn it up,' croaked Ebenezer.
'I vill lead the Freethinkers and the Reformers back into the fold. I vill be Elijah, and my vings shall be quill pens. I vill save Judaism.'
He started up, swelling, but De Haan caught him by his waistband, and readjusted him in the coal-scuttle.
'Here, take another cigar, Pinchas,' he said, passing Schlesinger's private box as if with a twinge of remorse for his treatment of one he admired as a poet, though he could not take him seriously as a man.
The discussion proceeded; the furniture-dealer's counsel was followed. It was definitely decided to let the two candidates neutralise each other.
'Vat vill you give me if I find you a Rédacteur?' suddenly asked Pinchas. 'I give up my editorial seat——'
'Editorial coal-scuttle,' growled Ebenezer.
'Pooh! I find you a first-class Rédacteur, 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 forsagacity, 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 ofThe Flag of Judahat a salary of nothing a year. De Haan immediately conceived a vast contemptuous admiration of the man.
'You von't forget me,' whispered Pinchas, buttonholing 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 advertisements.'
'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 advertisements. 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 advertisements, and ask, "Does it pay?" But itwillpay! it must pay! With you at the head of it, Mr. Leon,a man whose fame and piety are known and respected wherever aMezuzahadorns 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 advertisements 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 suremywife 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 findthat 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 eyeglass, and a romantic cloak which covered a multitude 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. God 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 forthat. 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 eyeglass, 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. 'Evidentlyyou'venever 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 isBar-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.
'Yes, we shall all be helping you,' said Ebenezer.
'I vill give you from the Pierian Spring—bucketsful,' said Pinchas in a flush of generosity.
'Thank you, I shall be much obliged,' said Raphael heartily; 'for I don't quite see the use of a paper filled up as Mr. Sampson suggests.' He flung his arms out and drew them in again. It was a way he had when in earnest. 'Then, I should like to have some foreign news. Where's that to come from?'
'You rely on me forthat,' said Little Sampson cheerfully. 'I will write at once to all the chief Jewish papers in the world, French, German, Dutch, Italian, Hebrew, and American, asking them to exchange with us. There is never any dearth of foreign news. I translate a thing from the ItalianVessillo Israelitico, and theIsraelitische Nieuwsbodeof Amsterdam copies it from us;Der Israelitthen translates it into German, whence it gets into Hebrew, inHamagid, thence intoL'Univers Israéliteof Paris, and thence into theAmerican Hebrew. When I see it in American, not having to translate it, it strikes me asfresh, and so I transfer it bodily to our columns, whence it gets translated into Italian, and so the merry-go-round goes eternally on. Ta-dee-rum-day. You rely on me for your foreign news. Why, I can get you foreign telegrams if you'll only allow me to stick "Trieste, December 21," or things of that sort at the top. Ti-tum, tee-ti.' He went on humming a sprightly air, then suddenly interrupting himself, he said, 'But have you got an advertisement canvasser, Mr. De Haan?'
'No, not yet,' said De Haan, turning round. The committee had resolved itself into animated groups, dotted about the office, each group marked by a smoke-drift. The clerks were still writing the ten thousand wrappers, swearing inaudibly.
'Well, when are you going to get him?'
'Oh, we shall have advertisements rolling in of themselves,' said De Haan, with a magnificent sweep of the arm. 'And we shall all assist in that department. Help yourself to another cigar, Sampson.' And he passed Schlesinger's box. Raphael and Karlkammer were the only two men in the room not smoking cigars—Raphael because he preferred his pipe, and Karlkammer for some more mystic reason.
'We must not ignore Cabbalah,' the zealot's voice was heard to observe.
'You can't get advertisements by Cabbalah,' dryly interrupted Guedalyah the Greengrocer, a practical man, as everybody knew.
'No, indeed,' protested Sampson. 'The advertisement canvasser is a more important man than the editor.'
Ebenezer pricked up his ears.
'I thoughtyouundertook to do some canvassing for your money,' said De Haan.
'So I will, so I will; rely on me for that. I shouldn't be surprised if I get the capitalists who are backing up my opera to give you the advertisements of the tour, and I'll do all I can in my spare time. But I feel sure you'll want another man—only you must pay him well and give him a good commission. It'll pay you best in the long-run to have a good man, there are so many seedy duffers about,'said Little Sampson, drawing his faded cloak loftily around him. 'You want an eloquent, persuasive man, with a gift of the gab——'
'Didn't I tell you so?' interrupted Pinchas, putting his finger to his nose. 'I vill go to the advertisers and speak burning words to them. I vill——'
'Garn! They'd kick you out!' croaked Ebenezer. 'They'll only listen to an Englishman.' His coarse-featured face glistened with spite.
'My Ebenezer has a good appearance,' said old Sugarman, 'and his English is fine, and dat is half de battle.'
Schlesinger, appealed to, intimated that Ebenezer might try, but that they could not well spare him any percentage at the start. After much haggling, Ebenezer consented to waive his commission if the committee would consent to allow an original tale of his to appear in the paper.
The stipulation having been agreed to, he capered joyously about the office, and winked periodically at Pinchas from behind the battery of his blue spectacles. The poet was, however, rapt in a discussion as to the best printer. The committee were for having Gluck, who had done odd jobs for most of them; but Pinchas launched into a narrative of how, when he edited a great organ in Buda-Pesth, he had effected vast economies by starting a little printing office of his own in connection with the paper.
'You vill set up a little establishment,' he said. 'I vill manage it for a few pounds a veek. Then I vill not only print your paper—I vill get you large profits from extra printing. Vith a man of great business talent at the head of it——'
De Haan made a threatening movement, and Pinchas edged away from the proximity of the coal-scuttle.
'Gluck's our printer!' said De Haan peremptorily. 'He has Hebrew type. We shall want a lot of that. We must have a lot of Hebrew quotations—not spell Hebrew words in English like the other papers. And the Hebrew date must come before the English. The public mustsee at once that our principles are superior. Besides, Gluck's a Jew, which will save us from the danger of having any of the printing done on Saturdays.'
'But shan't we want a publisher?' asked Sampson.
'That's vat I say,' cried Pinchas. 'If I set up this office, I can be your publisher, too. Ve must do things business-like.'
'Nonsense, nonsense! We are our own publishers,' said De Haan. 'Our clerks will send out the invoices and the subscription copies, and an extra office-boy can sell the papers across the counter.'
Sampson smiled in his sleeve.
'All right. That will do—for the first number,' he said cordially. 'Ta-ra-ra-ta.'
'Now then, Mr. Leon, everything is settled,' said De Haan, stroking his beard briskly. 'I think I'll ask you to help us to draw up the posters. We shall cover all London, sir—all London.'
'But wouldn't that be wasting money?' said Raphael.
'Oh, we're going to do the thing properly. I don't believe in meanness.'
'It'll be enough if we cover the East End,' said Schlesinger dryly.
'Quite so. The East EndisLondon, as far as we are concerned,' said De Haan readily.
Raphael took the pen and the paper which De Haan tendered him, and wrote 'The Flag of Judah,' the title having been fixed at their first interview.
'The only orthodox paper!' dictated De Haan. 'Largest circulation of any Jewish paper in the world!'
'No, how can we say that?' said Raphael, pausing.
'No, of course not,' said De Haan. 'I was thinking of the subsequent posters. Look out for the first number—on Friday, January 1st! The best Jewish writers! The truest Jewish teachings! Latest Jewish news, and finest Jewish stories! Every Friday, twopence.'
'Twopence?' echoed Raphael, looking up. 'I thought you wanted to appeal to the masses. I should say it must be a penny.'
'Itwillbe a penny,' said De Haan oracularly.
'We have thought it all over,' interposed Gradkoski. 'The first number will be bought up out of curiosity whether at a penny or at twopence. The second will go almost as well, for people will be anxious to see how it compares with the first. In that number we shall announce that, owing to the enormous success, we have been able to reduce it to a penny. Meantime, we make all the extra pennies.'
'I see,' said Raphael dubiously.
'We must haveChochmah,' said De Haan. 'Our sages recommend that.'
Raphael still had his doubts, but he had also a painful sense of his lack of the 'practical wisdom' recommended by the sages cited. He thought these men were probably in the right. Even religion could not be pushed on the masses without business methods—and so long as they were in earnest about the doctrines to be preached, he could even feel a dim admiration for their superior shrewdness in executing a task in which he himself would have hopelessly broken down. Raphael's mind was large, and larger by being conscious of its cloistral limitations. And the men were in earnest; not even their most intimate friends could call this into question.
'We are going to save London,' De Haan put it in one of his dithyrambic moments. 'Orthodoxy has too long been voiceless, and yet it is five-sixths of Judea. A small minority has had all the say. We must redress the balance. We must plead the cause of the People against the Few.'
Raphael's breast throbbed with similar hopes. His Messianic emotions resurged. Sugarman's solicitous request that he should buy a Hamburg lottery ticket scarcely penetrated his consciousness. Carrying the copy of the poster, he accompanied De Haan to Gluck's. It was a small shop in a back street, with Jargon papers and handbills in the window, and a pervasive heavy oleaginous odour. A hand-press occupied the centre of the interior, the back of which was partitioned off, and marked 'private.' Gluck came forward, grinning welcome. He wore an unkempt beard and a dusky apron.
'Can you undertake to print an eight-page paper?' inquired De Haan.
'If I can print at all, I can print anything,' responded Gluck reproachfully. 'How many shall you want?'
'It's the orthodox paper we've been planning so long,' said De Haan evasively.
Gluck nodded his head.
'There are seventy thousand orthodox Jews in London alone,' said De Haan with rotund enunciation. 'So you see what you may have to print. It'll be worth your while to do it extra cheap.'
Gluck agreed readily, naming a low figure. After half an hour's discussion it was reduced by ten per cent.
'Good-bye, then,' said De Haan. 'So let it stand. We shall start with a thousand copies of the first number, but where we shall end, the Holy One—blessed be He!—alone knows. I will now leave you and the editor to talk over the rest. To-day's Monday. We must have the first number out by Friday week. Can you do that, Mr. Leon?'
'Oh, that will be ample,' said Raphael, shooting out his arms.
He did not remain of that opinion. Never had he gone through such an awful, anxious time, not even in his preparations for the stiffest exams. He worked sixteen hours a day at the paper. The only evening he allowed himself off was when he dined with Mrs. Henry Goldsmith and met Esther. First numbers invariably take twice as long to produce as second numbers, even in the best regulated establishments. All sorts of mysterious sticks and leads and founts and formes are found wanting at the eleventh hour. As a substitute for grey hair-dye, there is nothing in the market to compete with the production of first numbers. But in Gluck's establishment these difficulties were multiplied by a hundred. Gluck spent a great deal of time in going round the corner to get something from a brother printer. It took enormous time to get a proof of any article out of Gluck.
'My men are so careful,' Gluck explained. 'They don't like to pass anything till it's free from typos.'
The men must have been highly disappointed, for theproofs were invariably returned bristling with corrections and having a highly hieroglyphic appearance. Then Gluck would go in and slang his men. He kept them behind the partition painted 'Private.'
The fatal Friday drew nearer and nearer. By Thursday not a single page had been made up. Still Gluck pointed out that there were only eight, and the day was long. Raphael had not the least idea in the world how to make up a paper, but about eleven Little Sampson kindly strolled into Gluck's and explained to his editor his own method of pasting the proofs on sheets of paper of the size of the pages. He even made up one page himself to a blithe vocal accompaniment. When the busy composer and acting-manager hurried off to conduct a rehearsal, Raphael expressed his gratitude warmly. The hours flew; the paper evolved as by geologic stages. As the fateful day wore on, Gluck was scarcely visible for a moment. Raphael was left alone eating his heart out in the shop, and solacing himself with huge whiffs of smoke. At immense intervals Gluck appeared from behind the partition bearing a page or a galley-slip. He said his men could not be trusted to do their work unless he was present. Raphael replied that he had not seen the compositors come through the shop to get their dinners, and he hoped Gluck would not find it necessary to cut off their meal-times. Gluck reassured him on this point; he said his men were so loyal that they preferred to bring their food with them rather than have the paper delayed. Later on he casually mentioned that there was a back entrance. He would not allow Raphael to talk to his workmen personally, arguing that it spoiled their discipline. By eleven o'clock at night seven pages had been pulled and corrected, but the eighth page was not forthcoming. TheFlaghad to be machined, dried, folded, and a number of copies put into wrappers and posted by three in the morning. The situation looked desperate. At a quarter to twelve Gluck explained that a column of matter already set up had been 'pied' by a careless compositor. It happened to be the column containing the latest news, and Raphael had not even seen a proof of it. Still, Gluckconjured him not to trouble further; he would give his reader strict injunctions not to miss the slightest error. Raphael had already seen and passed the first column of this page, let him leave it to Gluck to attend to this second column; all would be well without his remaining later, and he would receive a copy of theFlagby the first post. The poor editor, whose head was splitting, weakly yielded; he just caught the midnight train to the West End, and he went to bed feeling happy and hopeful.
At seven o'clock the next morning the whole Leon household was aroused by a thunderous double rat-tat at the door. Addie was even heard to scream. A housemaid knocked at Raphael's door and pushed a telegram under it. Raphael jumped out of bed, and read:
'Third of column more matter wanted. Come at once.—Gluck.'
'Third of column more matter wanted. Come at once.—Gluck.'
'How can that be?' he asked himself in consternation. 'If the latest news made a column when it was first set up before the accident, how can it make less now?'
He dashed up to Gluck's office in a hansom and put the conundrum to him.
'You see, we had no time to distribute the "pie," and we had no more type of that kind, so we had to reset it smaller,' answered Gluck glibly.
His eyes were bloodshot; his face was haggard. The door of the private compartment stood open.
'Your men are not come yet, I suppose,' said Raphael.
'No,' said Gluck. 'They didn't go away till two, poor fellows! Is that the copy?' he asked as Raphael handed him a couple of slips he had distractedly scribbled in the cab under the heading of 'Talmudic Tales.' 'Thank you; it's just about the size. I shall have to set it myself.'
'But won't we be terribly late?' said poor Raphael.
'We shall be out to-day,' responded Gluck cheerfully. 'We shall be in time for the Sabbath, and that's the important thing. Don't you see they're half printed already?' He indicated a huge pile of sheets. Raphael examined them with beating heart. 'We've only to print 'em on the other side and the thing's done,' said Gluck.
'Where are your machines?'
'There,' said Gluck, pointing.
'That hand-press!' said Raphael, astonished. 'Do you mean to say you print them all with your own hand?'
'Why not?' said the dauntless Gluck. 'I shall wrap them up for the post, too.' And he shut himself up with the last of the 'copy.'
Raphael, having exhausted his interest in the half-paper, fell to striding about the little shop, when who should come in but Pinchas, smoking a cigar of the Schlesinger brand!
'Ah, my prince of Rédacteurs,' said Pinchas, darting at Raphael's hand and kissing it. 'Did I not say you vould produce the finest paper in the kingdom? But vy have I not my copy by post? You must not listen to Ebenezer ven he says I must not be on the free list, the blackguard!'
Raphael explained to the incredulous poet that Ebenezer had not said anything of the kind. Suddenly Pinchas's eye caught sight of the sheets. He swooped down upon them like a hawk. Then he uttered a shriek of grief.
'Vere's my poem, my great poesie?'
Raphael looked embarrassed.
'This is only half the paper,' he said evasively.
'Ha, then it vill appear in the other half,hein?' he said, with hope tempered by a terrible suspicion.
'N-n-o,' stammered Raphael timidly.
'No?' shrieked Pinchas.
'You see—the—the fact is, it wouldn't scan. Your Hebrew poetry is perfect, but English poetry is made rather differently, and I've been too busy to correct it.'
'But it is exactly like Lord Byron's!' shrieked Pinchas. 'Mein Gott! All night I lie avake, vaiting for the post. At eight o'clock the post comes, but theFlag of Judahshe vaves not. I rush round here, and now my beautiful poem vill not appear!' He seized the sheet again, then cried fiercely: 'You have a tale, "The Waters of Babylon," by Ebenezer the fool-boy, but my poesie have you not.Gott in Himmel!' He tore the sheet frantically across, and rushed from the shop. In five minutes he reappeared. Raphael was absorbed in reading the last proof. Pinchasplucked timidly at his coat-tails. 'You vill put it in next veek?' he said winningly.
'I dare say,' said Raphael gently.
'Ah, promise me! I vill love you like a brother. I vill be grateful to you for ever and ever. I vill never ask another favour of you in all my life. Ve are already like brothers—hein?—I and you, the only two men——'
'Yes, yes,' interrupted Raphael. 'It shall appear next week.'
'God bless you!' said Pinchas, kissing Raphael's coat-tails passionately and rushing without.
Looking up accidentally some minutes afterwards, Raphael was astonished to see the poet's grinning head thrust through the half-open door with a finger laid insinuatingly on the side of the nose. The head was fixed there as if petrified, waiting to catch the editor's eye.
The first number ofThe Flag of Judahappeared early in the afternoon.
The new organ did not create a profound impression. By the rival party it was mildly derided, though many fair-minded persons were impressed by the rather unusual combination of rigid orthodoxy with a high spiritual tone, and Raphael's conception of Judaism as outlined in his first leader, his view of it as a happy human compromise between an empty, unpractical spiritualism and a choked-up, over-practical formalism, avoiding the opposite extremes of its offshoots, Christianity and Mohammedanism, was novel to many of his readers, unaccustomed to think about their faith. Dissatisfied as Raphael was with the number, he felt he had fluttered some of the dove-cotes at least. Several people of taste congratulated him during Saturday and Sunday; it was with a continuance of Messianic emotions and with agreeable anticipations that he repaired on Monday morning to the little den which had been inexpensively fitted up for him above the offices of Messrs. Schlesinger and De Haan. To his surprise, he found it crammed with the committee, all gathered round Little Sampson, who, with flushed face and cloak tragically folded, was expostulating at the top of his voice. Pinchas stood at the back in silent amusement. As Raphael entered jauntily, a change came over the company: a low premonitory roar issued from a dozen lips, the lowering faces turned quickly towards him. Involuntarily Raphael started back in alarm, then stood rooted to the threshold. There was a dread ominous silence. Then the storm burst.
'Du Shaigatz! Du Pasha Yisroile!' came from all quarters of the compass.
To be called a graceless Gentile and a sinner in Israelis not pleasant to a pious Jew; but all Raphael's minor sensations were swallowed up in a great wonderment.
'We are ruined!' moaned the furniture-dealer who was always failing.
'You have ruined us!' came the chorus from the thick, sensuous lips, and swarthy fists were shaken threateningly.
Sugarman's hairy paw was almost against his face. Raphael turned cold, then a rush of red-hot blood flooded his veins. He put out his good right hand, and smote the nearest fist aside. Sugarman blenched and skipped back, and the line of fists wavered.
'Don't be fools, gentlemen,' said De Haan, his keen sense of humour asserting itself. 'Let Mr. Leon sit down.'
Raphael, still dazed, took his seat on the editorial chair.
'Now what can I do for you?' he said courteously.
The fists drooped at his calm.
'Do for us?' said Schlesinger dryly. 'You've done for the paper. It's not worth twopence.'
'Well, bring it out at a penny at once, then,' laughed Little Sampson, reinforced by the arrival of his editor.
Guedalyah the Greengrocer glowered at him.
'I am very sorry, gentlemen, I have not been able to satisfy you,' said Raphael; 'but in a first number one can't do much.'
'Can't they?' said De Haan. 'You've done so much damage to orthodoxy that we don't know whether to go on with the paper.'
'You're joking,' murmured Raphael.
'I wish I was,' laughed De Haan bitterly.
'But you astonish me,' persisted Raphael. 'Would you be so good as to point out where I have gone wrong?'
'With pleasure, or rather with pain,' said De Haan.
Each of the committee drew a tattered copy from his pocket, and followed De Haan's demonstration with a murmured accompaniment of lamentation.
'The paper was founded to inculcate the inspection of cheese, the better supervision of the sale of meat, the construction of ladies' baths, and all the principles of true Judaism,' said De Haan gloomily. 'And there's not one word about these things, but a great deal aboutspirituality and the significance of the ritual. But I will begin at the beginning. Page 1.'
'But that's advertisements,' muttered Raphael.
'The part surest to be read! The very first line of the paper is simply shocking. It reads:
'"Death.'"On the 29th ult., at 22 Buckley Street, the Rev. Abraham Barnett, in his fifty-fourth——"'
'"Death.
'"On the 29th ult., at 22 Buckley Street, the Rev. Abraham Barnett, in his fifty-fourth——"'
'But death is always shocking. What's wrong about that?' interposed Little Sampson.
'Wrong!' repeated De Haan witheringly. 'Where did you get that from? That was never sent in.'
'No, of course not,' said the sub-editor; 'but we had to have at least one advertisement of that kind, just to show we should be pleased to advertise our readers' deaths. I looked in the daily papers to see if there were any births or marriages with Jewish names, but I couldn't find any, and that was the only Jewish-sounding death I could see.'
'But the Rev. Abraham Barnett was aMeshumad!' shrieked Sugarman the Shadchan.
Raphael turned pale. To have inserted an advertisement about an apostate missionary was indeed terrible; but Little Sampson's audacity did not desert him.
'I thought the orthodox party would be pleased to hear of the death of aMeshumad,' he said suavely, screwing his eyeglass more tightly into its orbit, 'on the same principle that anti-Semites take in the Jewish papers to hear of the death of Jews.'
For a moment De Haan was staggered.
'That would be all very well,' he said. 'Let him be an atonement for us all; but then you've gone and put, "May his soul be bound up in the bundle of life!"'
It was true. The stock Hebrew equivalent for 'R.I.P.' glared from the page.
'Fortunately, that taking advertisement ofkoshertrousers comes just underneath,' said De Haan, 'and that may draw off the attention. On page 2 you actually say in a note that Rabbenu Bachja's great poem onRepentance should be incorporated in the ritual, and might advantageously replace the obscurePiyutby Kalir. But this is rank Reform; it's worse than the papers we came to supersede.'
'But surely you know it is only the printing-press that has stereotyped our liturgy; that for Maimonides and Ibn Ezra, for David Kimchi and Joseph Albo, the contents were fluid; that——'
'We don't deny that,' interrupted Schlesinger; 'but we can't have any more alterations nowadays. Who is there worthy to alter them? You?'
'Certainly not. I merely suggest.'
'You are playing into the hands of our enemies,' said De Haan, shaking his head. 'We must not let our readers even imagine that the Prayer-Book can be tampered with. It's the thin end of the wedge. To trim our liturgy is like trimming living flesh; wherever you cut, the blood oozes. The four cubits of theHalachah, that is what is wanted, not changes in the liturgy. Once touch anything, and where are you to stop? Our religion becomes a flux. Our old Judaism is like an old family mansion, where each generation has left a memorial, and where every room is hallowed with traditions of merry-making and mourning. We do not want our fathers' home decorated in the latest style; the next step will be removal to a new dwelling altogether. On page 3 you refer to the second Isaiah.'
'But I deny that there were two Isaiahs.'
'So you do; but it is better for our readers not to hear of such impious theories. The space would be much better occupied in explaining the Portion for the week. The next leaderette has a flippant tone, which has excited unfavourable comment among some of the most important members of the Dalston synagogue. They object to humour in a religious paper. On page 4 you have deliberately missed an opportunity of puffing the Kosher Co-operative Society. Indeed, there is not a word throughout about our Society. But I like Mr. Henry Goldsmith's letter on this page, though; he is a good orthodox man, and he writes from a good address. It willshow we are not only read in the East End. Pity he's such a Man-of-the-Earth, though. Yes, and that's good, the communication from the Rev. Joseph Strelitski. I think he's a bit of anEpikouros; but it looks as if the whole of the Kensington synagogue was with us. I understand he is a friend of yours; it will be as well for you to continue friendly. Several of us here knew him well inOlov Hasholomtimes, but he is become so grand, and rarely shows himself at the Holy Land League meetings. He can help us a lot if he will.'
'Oh, I'm sure he will,' said Raphael.
'That's good,' said De Haan, caressing his white beard. Then, growing gloomy again, he went on: 'On page 5 you have a little article by Gabriel Hamburg, a well-knownEpikouros.'
'Oh, but he is one of the greatest scholars in Europe!' broke in Raphael. 'I thought you'd be extra pleased to have it. He sent it to me from Stockholm as a special favour!' He did not mention he had secretly paid for it. 'I know some of his views are heterodox, and I don't agree with half he says, but this article is perfectly harmless.'
'Well, let it pass: very few of our readers have ever heard of him. But on the same page you have a Latin quotation. I don't say there's anything wrong in that, but it smacks of Reform. Our readers don't understand it, and it looks as if our Hebrew were poor. The Mishnah contains texts suited for all purposes. We are in no need of Roman writers. On page 6 you speak of the Reform Shool as if it were to be reasoned with. Sir, if we mention these freethinkers at all, it must be in the strongest language. By worshipping bareheaded, and by seating the sexes together, they have defiled Judaism.'
'Stop a minute,' interrupted Raphael warmly. 'Who told you the Reformers do this?'
'Who told me, indeed? Why, it's common knowledge. That's how they've been going on for the last fifty years.'
'Everybody knows it,' said the committee in chorus.
'Has one of you ever been there?' said Raphael, rising in excitement.
'God forbid!' cried the chorus.
'Well, I have, and it's a lie,' said Raphael. His arm whirled round to the discomfort of the committee.
'You ought not to have gone there,' said Schlesinger severely. 'Besides, will you deny they have the organ in their Sabbath services?'
'No, I won't!'
'Well, then,' said De Haan triumphantly, 'if they are capable of that, they are capable of any wickedness. Orthodox people can have nothing to do with them.'
'But orthodox immigrants take their money,' said Raphael.
'Their money iskosher; they aretripha,' said De Haan sententiously. 'Page 7—now we get to the most dreadful thing of all!'
A solemn silence fell on the room. Pinchas sniggered unobtrusively.
'You have a little article headed "Talmudic Tales." Why in Heaven's name you couldn't have finished the column with bits of news I don't know. Satan himself must have put the thought into your head. Just at the end of the paper, too! For I can't reckon page 8, which is simply our own advertisement.'
'I thought it would be amusing,' said Raphael.
'Amusing! If you had simply told the tales, it might have been. But look how you introduce them! "These amusing tales occur in the fifth chapter of Baba Bathra, and are related by Rabbi Bar Bar Channah. Our readers will see that they are parables or allegories rather than actual facts."'
'But do you mean to say you look upon them as facts?' cried Raphael, sawing the air wildly, and pacing about on the toes of the committee.
'Surely!' said De Haan, while a low growl at his blasphemous doubts ran along the lips of the committee.
'Was it treacherously to undermine Judaism that you so eagerly offered to edit for nothing?' said the furniture-dealer who was always failing.
'But listen here!' cried Raphael, exasperated.
'"Harmez, the son of Lilith, a demon, saddled twomules and made them stand on opposite sides of the river Doneg. He then jumped from the back of one to that of the other. He had, at the time, a cup of wine in each hand, and as he jumped he threw the wine from each cup into the other without spilling a drop, although a hurricane was blowing at the time. When the king of demons heard that Harmez had been thus showing off to mortals, he slew him." Do any of you believe that?'
'Vould our sages—their memories for a blessing!—put anything into the Talmud that vasn't true?' queried Sugarman. 'Ve know there are demons because it stands that Solomon knew their language.'
'But, then, what about this?' pursued Raphael. '"I saw a frog which was as big as the district of Akra Hagronia. A sea-monster came and swallowed the frog, and a raven came and ate the sea-monster. The raven then went and perched on a tree. Consider how strong that tree must have been. R. Papa Ben Samuel remarks: Had I not been present, I should not have believed it." Doesn't this appendix about Ben Samuel show that it was never meant to be taken seriously?'
'It has some high meaning we do not understand in these degenerate times,' said Guedalyah the Greengrocer. 'It is not for our paper to weaken faith in the Talmud.'
'Hear, hear!' said De Haan, while 'Epikouros!' rumbled through the air like distant thunder.
'Didn't I say an Englishman could never master the Talmud?' Sugarman asked in triumph.
This reminder of Raphael's congenital incompetence softened their minds towards him, so that when he straightway resigned his editorship, their self-constituted spokesman besought him to remain. Perhaps they remembered, too, that he was cheap.
'But we must all edit the paper,' said De Haan enthusiastically, when peace was re-established. 'We must have meetings every day, and every article must be read aloud before it is printed.'
Little Sampson winked cynically, passing his hand pensively through his thick tangled locks, but Raphael saw no objection to the arrangement. As before, he felt his ownimpracticability borne in upon him, and he decided to sacrifice himself for the Cause as far as conscience permitted. Excessive as was the zeal of these men, it was after all in the true groove. His annoyance returned for a while, however, when Sugarman the Shadchan seized the auspicious moment of restored amity to inquire insinuatingly if his sister was engaged. Pinchas and Little Sampson went down the stairs quivering with noiseless laughter, which became boisterous when they reached the street. Pinchas was in high feather.
'The fool-men!' he said, as he led the sub-editor into a public-house and regaled him on stout and sandwiches.
'They believe anyNarrischkeit. I and you are the only two sensible Jews in England. You vill see that my poesie goes in next veek—promise me that! To your life!' Here they touched glasses. 'Ah, it is beautiful poesie. Such high tragic ideas! You vill kiss me when you read them.' He laughed in childish light-heartedness. 'Perhaps I write you a comic opera for your company—hein?Already I love you like a brother. Another glass stout? Bring us two more, thou Hebe of the hops-nectar. You have seen my comedy, "The Hornet of Judah"? No? Ah, she vas a great comedy, Sampson. All London talked of her. She has been translated into every tongue. Perhaps I play in your company. I am a great actor—hein?You know not my forte is voman's parts—I make myself so lovely complexion vith red paint, I fall in love vith me.' He sniggered over his stout. 'The Rédacteur will not redact long,hein?' he said presently. 'He is a fool-man. If he work for nothing they think that is what he is worth. They are orthodox—he-he!'
'But he is orthodox too,' said Little Sampson.
'Yes,' replied Pinchas musingly. 'It is strange. It is vairy strange. I cannot understand him. Never in all my experience have I met another such man. There vas an Italian exile I talked vith once in the island of Chios—his eyes were like Leon's, soft vith a shining splendour like the stars vich are the eyes of the angels of love. Ah, he is a good man, and he writes sharp—he has ideas, not like an English Jew at all. I could throw my arms roundhim sometimes. I love him like a brother.' His voice softened. 'Another glass stout—ve vill drink to him.'
Raphael did not find the editing by committee feasible. The friction was incessant, the waste of time monstrous. The second number cost him even more headaches than the first, and this although the gallant Gluck, abandoning his single-handed emprise, fortified himself with a real live compositor and had arranged for the paper to be printed by machinery. The position was intolerable. It put a touch of acid into his dulciferous mildness. Just before going to press he was positively rude to Pinchas. It would seem that Little Sampson, sheltering himself behind his capitalists, had refused to give the poet a commission for a comic opera, and Pinchas raved at Gideon, M.P., who he was sure was Sampson's financial backer, and threatened to shoot him, and danced maniacally about the office.
'I have written an attack on the Member for Vitechapel,' he said, growing calmer, 'to hand him down to the execration of posterity, and I have brought it to theFlag. It must go in this veek.'
'We have already your poem,' said Raphael.
'I know, but I do not grudge my work; I am not like your money-making English Jews.'
'There is no room. The paper is full.'
'Leave out Ebenezer's tale—with the blue spectacles.'
'There is none. It was complete in one number.'
'Well, must you put in your leader?'
'Absolutely; please go away. I have this page to read.'
'But you can leave out some advertisements.'
'I must not. We have too few as it is.'
The poet put his finger alongside his nose, but Raphael was adamant.
'Do me this one favour,' he pleaded. 'I love you like a brother—just this one little thing! I vill never ask another favour of you all my life.'
'I would not put it in even if there was room. Go away,' said Raphael, almost roughly.
The unaccustomed accents gave Pinchas a salutary shock. He borrowed two shillings and left, and Raphaelwas afraid to look up lest he should see his head wedged in the doorway. Soon after, Gluck and his one compositor carried out the formes to be machined. Little Sampson, arriving with a gay air on his lips, met them at the door.
On the Friday Raphael sat in the editorial chair utterly dispirited—a battered wreck. The committee had just left him. A heresy had crept into a bit of late news not inspected by them, and they declared that the paper was not worth twopence and had better be stopped. The demand for this second number was, moreover, rather poor, and each man felt his ten pound share melting away, and resolved not to pay up the half yet unpaid. It was Raphael's first real experience of men—after the enchanted towers of Oxford, where he had foregathered with dreamers.
His pipe hung listless in his mouth—an extinct volcano. His first fit of distrust in human nature—nay, even in the purifying powers of orthodoxy—was racking him. Strangely enough, this wave of scepticism tossed up the thought of Esther Ansell, and stranger still, on the top of this thought, in walked Mr. Henry Goldsmith. Raphael jumped up and welcomed his late host, whose leathery countenance shone with the polish of a sweet smile. It appeared that the communal pillar had been passing casually, and thought he'd look Raphael up.
'So you don't pull well together,' he said, when he had elicited an outline of the situation from the editor.
'No, not altogether,' admitted Raphael.
'Do you think the paper'll live?'
'I can't say,' said Raphael, dropping limply into his chair. 'Even if it does, I don't know whether it will do much good if run on their lines; for, although it is of great importance that we getkosherfood and baths, I hardly think they go about it in the right spirit. I may be wrong. They are older men than I, and have seen more of actual life, and know the class we appeal to better.'
'No, no, you are not wrong,' said Mr. Goldsmith vehemently. 'I am myself dissatisfied with some of the committee's contributions to this second number. It is a great opportunity to save English Judaism, but it is being frittered away.'
'I am afraid it is,' said Raphael, removing his empty pipe from his mouth, and staring at it blankly.
Mr. Goldsmith brought his fist down sharp on the soft litter that covered the editorial table.
'It shall not be frittered away!' he cried. 'No, not if I have to buy the paper!'
Raphael looked up eagerly.
'What do you say?' said Goldsmith. 'Shall I buy it up and let you work it on your lines?'
'I shall be very glad,' said Raphael, the Messianic look returning to his face.
'How much will they want for it?'
'Oh, I think they'll be glad to let you take it over. They say it's not worth twopence, and I'm sure they haven't got the funds to carry it on,' replied Raphael, rising. 'I'll go down about it at once. The committee have just been here, and I dare say they are still in Schlesinger's office.'
'No, no,' said Goldsmith, pushing him down into his seat. 'It will never do if people know I'm the proprietor.'
'Why not?'
'Oh, lots of reasons. I'm not a man to brag. If I want to do a good thing for Judaism, there's no reason for all the world to know it. Then, again, from my position on all sorts of committees, I shall be able to influence the communal advertisements in a way I couldn't if people knew I had any connection with the paper. So, too, I shall be able to recommend it to my wealthy friends (as no doubt it will deserve to be recommended) without my praise being discounted.'
'Well, but, then, what am I to say to the committee?'
'Can't you say you want to buy it for yourself? They know you can afford it.'
'But whyshouldn'tI buy it for myself?'
'Pooh! Haven't you got better use for your money?'
It was true. Raphael had designs more tangibly philanthropic for the five thousand pounds left him by his aunt. And he was business-like enough to see that Mr. Goldsmith's money might as well be utilised for the good of Judaism. He was not quite easy about the little fictionthat would be necessary for the transaction, but the combined assurances of Mr. Goldsmith and his own common-sense that there was no real deception or harm involved in it ultimately prevailed. Mr. Goldsmith left, promising to call again in an hour, and Raphael, full of new hopes, burst upon the committee. But his first experience of bargaining was no happier than the rest of his worldly experiences. When he professed his willingness to relieve them of the burden of carrying on the paper, they first stared, then laughed, then shook their fists. As if they would leave him to corrupt the faith! When they understood he was willing to pay something, the value of theFlag of Judahwent up from less than twopence to more than two hundred pounds. Everybody was talking about it; its reputation was made; they were going to print double next week.
'But it has not cost you forty pounds yet!' said the astonished Raphael.
'What are you saying? Look at the posters alone!' said Sugarman.
'But you don't look at it fairly,' argued De Haan, whose Talmudical studies had sharpened wits already super-subtle. 'Whatever it has cost us, it would have cost us much more if we had had to pay our editor, and it is very unfair of you to leave that out of account.'
Raphael was overwhelmed.
'It's taking away with the left hand what you gave us with the right,' added De Haan, with infinite sadness. 'I had thought better of you, Mr. Leon.'
'But you got a good many twopences back,' murmured Raphael.
'It's the future profits that we're losing,' explained Schlesinger.
In the end Raphael agreed to give a hundred pounds, which made the members inwardly determine to pay up the residue on their shares at once. De Haan also extorted a condition that theFlagshould continue to be the organ of the Kosher Co-operative Society for at least six months, doubtless perceiving that, should the paper live and thrive over that period, it would not then paythe proprietor to alter its principles; by which bargain the Society secured for itself a sum of money, together with an organ, gratis, for six months and, to all seeming, in perpetuity, for at bottom they knew well that Raphael's heart was sound. They were all on the free list, too, and they knew he would not trouble to remove them.
Mr. Henry Goldsmith, returning, was rather annoyed at the price, but did not care to repudiate his agent.
'Be economical,' he said. 'I will get you a better office and find a proper publisher and canvasser. But cut it as close as you can.'
Raphael's face beamed with joy.
'Oh, depend upon me,' he said.
'What is your own salary?' asked Goldsmith.
'Nothing,' said Raphael.
A flash passed across Goldsmith's face, then he considered a moment.
'I wish you would let it be a guinea,' he said. 'Quite nominal, you know. Only I like to have things in proper form. And if ever you want to go, you know, you'll give me a month's notice and,' here he laughed genially, 'I'll do ditto when I want to get rid of you. Ha! ha! ha! Is that a bargain?'
Raphael smiled in reply, and the two men's hands met in a hearty clasp.
'Miss Ansell will help you, I know,' said Goldsmith cheerily; 'that girl's got it in her, I can tell you. She'll take the shine out of some of our West-Enders. Do you know, I picked her out of the gutter, so to speak?'
'Yes, I know,' said Raphael. 'It was very good and discriminating of you. How is she?'
'She's all right; come up and see her about doing something for you. She goes to the Museum sometimes in the afternoons, but you'll always find her in on Sundays—or most Sundays. Come up and dine with us again soon, will you? Mrs. Goldsmith will be so pleased.'
'I will,' said Raphael fervently; and when the door closed upon the communal pillar, he fell to striding feverishly about his little den.
His trust in human nature was restored, and thereceding wave of scepticism bore off again the image of Esther Ansell. Now to work for Judaism!
The sub-editor made his first appearance that day, carolling joyously.
'Sampson,' said Raphael abruptly, 'your salary is raised by a guinea a week.'
The joyous song died away on Little Sampson's lips; his eye-glass dropped; he let himself fall backwards, impinging noiselessly upon a heap of 'returns' of number one.