"One dollar a day, and board you," I replied.
He of the nose nodded eagerly at that, and wrote, "Also you make to be
washed my shirt?"
I agreed; and the bargain was closed. I got him into the house, and
gave him a bath, a clean shirt, and complete instructions how to act.
The gravity with which he entered upon the situation was astonishing.
He didn't seem to taste the slightest flavor of a joke in it at all. It
was a simple matter of business; he saw in it only money and Fatherland.
Meanwhile I explained my intentions to Dolly, saying in great glee:
"His deafness is his defense: the old three-decker may bang away at
him; he is IRON-CLAD!" And that suggested the name we have called him
by ever since.
When he was ready for action, I took him in tow, and ran him in to
draw the Popworth's fire--in other words, introduced him to my uncle in
the library. The meeting of my tall, lank relative and the big-nosed
little Jew was a spectacle to cure a hypochondriac! "Mr. Jacob
Menzel--gentleman from Germany--traveling in this country," I yelled
in the old fellow's ear. He of the diminutive legs and stupendous nose
bowed with perfect decorum, and seated himself, stiff and erect, in
the big chair I placed for him. The avuncular countenance lighted up;
here were fresh woods and pastures new to that ancient shepherd. As for
myself, I was well nigh strangled by a cough which just then seized
me, and obliged to retreat--for I never was much of an actor, and the
comedy of that first interview was overpowering.
As I passed the dining-room door, Dolly, who was behind it, gave my arm
a fearful pinch that answered, I suppose, in the place of a scream, as
a safety-valve for her hysterical emotions. "Oh, you cruel man--you
miserable humbug!" says she; and went off into convulsions of laughter.
The door was open, and we could see and hear everything.
"You are traveling, h'm?" says my uncle. The nose nodded duly. "H'm! I
have traveled, myself," the old gentleman proceeded; "my life has been
one of vicissitudes, h'm! I have journeyed, I have preached, I have
published--perhaps you have heard of my literary venture"--and over
went the big volume to the little man, who took it, turned the leaves,
and nodded and smiled, according to instructions.
"You are very kind to say so; thank you!" says my uncle, rubbing his
husky hands with satisfaction. "Rejoiced to meet with you! It is always
a gratification to have an intelligent and sympathizing brother to open
one's mind to; it is especially refreshing to me, for, as I may say
without egotism, my life and labors have _not_ been appreciated."
From that the old interminable story took its start and flowed on, the
faithful nose nodding assent at every turn in that winding stream.
The children came in for their share of the fun; and for the first time
in our lives we took pleasure in the old gentleman's narration of his
varied experiences.
"Oh, hear him! See him go it!" said Robbie. "What a nose!"
"Long may it wave!" said Harry.
With other remarks of a like genial nature; while there they sat, the
two--my uncle on one side, long, lathy, self-satisfied, gesticulating,
earnestly laying his case before a grave jury of one, whom he was bound
to convince, if time would allow; my little Jew facing him, upright in
his chair, stiff, imperturbable, devoted to business, honorably earning
his money, the nose in the air, immovable, except when it played duly
up and down at fitting intervals; in which edifying employment I left
them and went about my business, a cheerier man.
Ah, what a relief it was to feel myself free for a season from the
attacks of the enemy--to know that my plucky little Iron-clad was
engaging him! In an hour I passed through the hall again, heard the
loud, blatant voice still discoursing (it had got as far as the
difficulties with the second parish), and saw the unflinching nasal
organ perform its graceful seesaw of assent. An hour later it was the
same--except that the speaker had arrived at the persecutions which
drove him from parish number three. When I went to call them to dinner,
the scene had changed a little, for now the old gentleman, pounding
the table for a pulpit, was reading aloud passages from a powerful
farewell sermon preached to his ungrateful parishioners. I was sorry I
couldn't give my man a hint to use his handkerchief at the affecting
periods, for the nose can hardly be called a sympathetic feature
(unless, indeed, you blow it), and these nods were becoming rather
too mechanical, except when the old gentleman switched off on the
argumentative track, as he frequently did. "What think you of that?" he
would pause in his reading to inquire. "Isn't that logic? Isn't that
unanswerable?" In responding to which appeals nobody could have done
better than my serious, my devoted, my lovely little Jew.
"Dinner!" I shouted over my uncle's dickey. It was almost the only
word that had the magic in it to rouse him from the feast of reason
which his own conversation was to him. It was always easy to head him
toward the dining-room--to steer him into port for necessary supplies.
The little Iron-clad followed in his wake. At table the old gentleman
resumed the account of his dealings with parish number three, and got
on as far as negotiations with number four; occasionally stopping to
eat his soup or roast beef very fast; at which time Jacob Menzel, who
was very much absorbed in his dinner, but never permitted himself to
neglect business for pleasure, paused at the proper intervals, with his
spoon or fork half-way to his mouth, and nodded--just as if my uncle
had been speaking--yielding assent to his last remarks after mature
consideration, no doubt the old gentleman thought.
The fun of the thing wore off after awhile, and then we experienced
the solid advantages of having an Iron-clad in the house.
Afternoon--evening--the next day--my little man of business performed
his function promptly and assiduously. But in the afternoon of the
second day he began to change perceptibly. He wore an aspect of languor
and melancholy that alarmed me. The next morning he was pale, and went
to his work with an air of sorrowful resignation.
"He is thinking of Fatherland," said the sympathizing Dolly; while
Harry's less-refined but more sprightly comment was, that the nose had
about played out.
Indeed, it had almost ceased to wave; and I feared that I was about to
lose a most valuable servant, whose place it would be impossible to
fill. Accordingly, I wrote on a slip of paper, which I sent in to him:
"You have done well, and I raise your salary to a dollar and a quarter
a day. Your influence over our unfortunate relative is soothing and
beneficial. Go on as you have begun and merit the lasting gratitude of
an afflicted family."
That seemed to cheer him a little--to wind him up, as Harry said,
and set the pendulum swinging again. But it was not long before the
listlessness and low spirits returned; Menzel showed a sad tendency to
shirk his duty; and before noon there came a crash.
I was in the garden, when I heard a shriek of rage and despair, and saw
the little Jew coming toward me with frantic gestures.
"I yielt! I abandone! I take my moneys and my shirt, and I go!" says he.
I stood in perfect astonishment at hearing the dumb speak; while he
threw his arms wildly above his head, exclaiming:
"I am not teaf! I am not teaf! I am not teaf! He is one terreeble mon!
He vill haf my life! So I go--I fly--I take my moneys and my shirt--I
leafe him, I leafe your house! I vould earn honest living, but--_Gott
im himmel! Dieu des dieux!_ All de devils!" he shrieked, mixing up
several of his languages at once, in his violent mental agitation.
"Jacob Menzel!" said I solemnly, "I little thought I was having to do
with an impostor!"
"If I haf you deceive, I haf myself more dan punish!" was his reply.
"Now I resign de position. I ask for de moneys and de shirt, and I
part!"
Just then my uncle came up, amazed at his new friend's sudden revolt
and flight, and anxious to finish up with his seventh parish.
"I vill hear no more of your six, of your seven--I know not how many
parish!" screamed the furious little Jew, turning on him.
"What means all this?" said my bewildered uncle.
"I tell you vat means it all!" the vindictive little impostor,
tiptoeing up to him, yelled at his cheek. "I make not vell my affairs
in your country; I vould return to Faderlant; for conwenience I carry
dis pappeer. I come here; I am suppose teaf; I accept de position to be
your companion, for if a man hear, you kill him tead soon vid your book
and your ten, twenty parish! I hear! You kill me! and I go!"
And, having obtained his "moneys" and his shirt, he went. That is the
last I ever saw of my little Iron-clad. I remember him with gratitude,
for he did me good service, and he had but one fault, namely, that he
was _not_ iron-clad!
As for my uncle, for the first time in his life, I think, he said never
a word, but stalked into the house. Dolly soon came running out to
ask what was the matter; Popworth was actually packing his carpet-bag!
I called Andrew, and ordered him to be in readiness with the buggy to
take the old gentleman over to the railroad.
"What! going?" I cried, as my uncle presently appeared, bearing his
book and his baggage.
"Nephew Frederick," said he, "after this treatment, can you ask me if I
am going?"
"Really," I shouted, "it is not my fault that the fellow proved an
impostor. I employed him with the best of intentions, for your--and
our--good!"
"Nephew Frederick," said he, "this is insufferable; you will regret it!
I shall never--NEVER" (as if he had been pronouncing my doom) "accept of
your hospitalities again!"
He did, however, accept some money which I offered him, and likewise a
seat in the buggy. I watched his departure with joy and terror--for at
any moment he might relent and stay; nor was I at ease in my mind until
I saw Andrew come riding back alone.
We have never seen the old gentleman since. But last winter I received
a letter from him; he wrote in a forgiving tone, to inform me that
he had been appointed chaplain in a prison, and to ask for a loan
of money to buy a suit of clothes. I sent him fifty dollars and my
congratulations. I consider him eminently qualified to fill the new
situation. As a hardship, he can't be beat; and what are the rogues
sent to prison for but to suffer punishment?
Yes, it would be a joke if my little Iron-clad should end his career
of imposture in that public institution, and sit once more under my
excellent uncle! But I can't wish him any such misfortune. His mission
to us was one of mercy. The place has been Paradise again, ever since
his visit.--_Scribner's Magazine_, August, 1873.