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 Haiks?' I demanded.
'Very different from the Jews,' replied the Armenian; 'the Haiks 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.