“In an instant I was inspired with super-human force, and followed my grim conductor without a without a word of remonstrance. The spell was on me, and I must needs obey. I believe the crowd shouted at us as we passed along; but I was in no humour to notice their outcry, nor to take advantage of the offers for commercial intercourse with which my ears were greeted on all sides.
“We passed out from the busier quarters, and soon found ourselves involved in those solitary streets of tall warehouses with bridges passing from side to side, which run along the river banks, and at length reached the water’s edge. The full moon gave splendour even to the waters of the Thames—and the tiers of shipping threw up their delicate traceries of spare and rigging between us and the sky.
“When is this walk to end?” I said, at length.
“‘For me—never!’
“But why this speed? Why this mad haste?
“‘Why this shpeed? Why this hashte? I vill tell you whoy, ma tear. My wife ish behind!’
“Your wife?
“‘Yesh! my woife, de Wandering Jewess. She have been chasing me for well-nigh nineteen hundred year. Undershtand you now why I run?’
“I do! I do!
“‘Sometime my Shalome catch me; sometime she catch me not—but I know when she is at hand. Shalome is very shtout, and heavy to move—but she run me down at last. I have a few hours before me yet. We will shmoke a pipe together, and have a little talk. Will you shay seven and nine for your coat? No—not buy, neither shell? Very coot, but you come mit me to de Jews’ Ball, here hard by, to-night. Shalome was at Amshterdam tree day back. I may eshcape her yet. I have a word for your private ear. I am de only man in de vorld who have been married two hundred and sixty-six toime. Ha! Ha! to say nothing of my good Shalome, who ish always after me for pigamy. Ha! Ha! Would you make friendsh mit de poor old
“‘Wandering Jew?’”
Awful and mysterious Being! Bestower of two hundred and sixty-six plain gold rings! What unfathomable depths of connubial experience must lie behind those dim orbs, which although opaque when the old man gazed listlessly up at the moon, which gazed down as listlessly upon him, yet, when he was under excitement, emitted a glare such as that which would proceed from two bull’s eyes held in the firm grasp of two guardians of the public peace. Two hundred and sixty-six other men might know the story piece-meal, but here was one human intelligence which contained it all. They might form a tesselated pavement of knowledge—here was the perfect slab. At length, I said,
“Two hundred and sixty-six wives—awful!
“‘Besides Salome!’ murmured the ancient man, who by this time had seated himself on his sack, and lighted a pipe. The river was steadily flowing on, as it had flowed while as yet the wealth and power of the world were concentrated on the vast star-lit plains of Assyria; or by the banks of the yellow Nile, when the fourth Psammetichus had taken his pastime in his golden galley on its turbid stream; or when by Tiber’s edge, the great Roman fell beneath the daggers of Freedom’s Masquerade; even so it flowed now—now when the Waterman’s Steamers were in the habit of conveying the ephemeral lords of the human race from London Bridge to Cheyne Walk during the pleasant summer months; and I sate gazing on it as it ebbed down to the sea.
“‘Jew,’ at length I gasped out, my curiosity overpowering my fears, ‘Jew, didst thou ever love?’
“‘Ha, ha, ha! I am alwash in love, that is my cursh, but alvays mit de wrong party. See here my two hundred and shixty-shiksh ringsh. I did love them all a little while, and then they vexsh de poor old Jew, and he love them no more. See there two hundred and shixty-shiksh ringsh, say at ten shilling a piesh—dirt sheap for de monish—dat is one hundred and thirty-three poundsh shterling. I have got dem all, and I vood not part mit dem for two hundred and shixty-shiksh millions shterling. All—I have got dem all—but ma tear woife Shalome’s; when he get that one, de poor old Jew will be at resht: but Shalome’s finger is very fat. Love! Has de poor old Jew ever loved? Ha! ha!’
“With these words this mysterious being rose from his seat, and, to my amazement, began pacing round in a circle at a rapid walk—sometimes looking down to his own feet—sometimes casting a worn and wizard look upwards at the moon. For some time he continued this exercise in a monotonous way. Still the river flowed on, and then, in sepulchral tone, he chanted rather than sang, the following words. Never!—no, never, whilst reason maintains its hold, will they be effaced from my burning brain!
“‘Ikey come from Down Easht,
A long time ago!
And every time he veel about
He call—Old clo!
Clo! clo! any old clo!
Every time he veel about
He call—Old clo!’
When he arrived at the words which may, without much impropriety be designated as the chorus, the ancient man executed a strange shuffling dance, not very dissimilar from the one in which the British mariner in moments of unusual hilarity is wont to shadow forth his soul’s emotions. He continued:
“‘He love the sheksh mit all his shoul,
De brown, de black, de fair,
But of dem all, from pole to pole,
De gal mit shandy hair,—’
He paused, and added, in shrill recitative, “‘Whoop! makes the poor old Jew to call—
“‘Clo! clo! any old clo!
Every time he veel about
He call—Old clo!’
“A change had come over his mood. There was somewhat of despondency tinged with defiance about the tone in which he delivered the next strophe. The river flowed on:
