The Strand Magazine/Volume 4/Issue 23/The Queer Side of Things

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The Queer Side of Things.

HE incidents of the following story occurred at a very remote age, anterior to the European glacial epoch, and, therefore, bear no sort of analogy to anything which could possibly take place in our times.

There once lived a very affable gentleman whose eye was exceeding bright and knowing, and the grasp of his hand was hearty and effusive, so that he was most pleasant to shake hands with; and many persons would make long journeys across the deserts and the oceans to have their hands shaken by him, feeling much delight and satisfaction at it. These would sit down before him—him that had the eye that was so bright and knowing—and would hold out their hands to be shaken; and he of the bright eye was so affable that he would by no means make any charge, either great or small, for shaking their hands, but would shake them gratis, even for nothing.

And this affable person, whose eye was knowing, would converse with all comers upon the most pleasant and attractive subjects, and this at any hour of the day or night which those persons might choose; nor would he ever refuse to talk upon subjects, either this subject or that, whichever might be the more pleasant; and for this conversing also would he make no charge, either great or small; and this thing greatly pleased and delighted his hearers.

Also he would exchange with them the most pleasant items of news that might be found in the daily papers; making this communion the more enjoyable by repeating to them the jokes from the comic papers, even the best jokes they contained.

Also he would ask after the health of their wives and families, and even of their cousins and distant relations; never churlishly refusing to inquire of the health of any relation, however distant; and for all this, too, did he make no charge, even the smallest charge.

But he who shall say that these things were all the pleasant things he did, shall say falsely and otherwise than the truth; for he did other things he would make little feasts for those he knew, and the feasts were of chicken and champagne; and they that partook of his chicken and champagne were comforted, for they knew there would be no charge; therefore did they consume them freely until their waistcoats were too tight for comfort; even as those do who know there is nothing to pay. So when those that knew him went away from sitting in front of him they would say, one to another, with great satisfaction and joy, "He shook my hand seven times, and asked after the health of my great aunt"; or, "He gave me much chicken that was tender, and much sweet champagne, even too much," and they rejoiced, patting their digestions.

"Their waistcoats were too tight for comfort."

And there lived at this time another person who was quiet, and had a small professional business in a back street. And this party did not go forth of a morning to ask of the health of the wives and families of all he met; neither did he give little feasts which were of chicken and champagne. And his business was poor and of no account. Let us not talk of him.

And the affability of him that had the bright eye was large and liberal; so much that he would never say, concerning an influential person: "Behold, this is an influential person; therefore I will not shake his hand, neither will I give him little feasts of chicken and champagne, nor ask of the health of his wife and family."

And he would straightway treat the influential person as one would wish to be treated; asking after all his relations, even to the most distant, and even throwing in the relations of his wife; and he would give to him also chicken and champagne, the same as the others; yes, even more so.

And furthermore, he that had the bright eye would say of them that wrote puffs in the newspapers: "Shall I refuse to shake the hands of these, and to entertain them with affable conversation, merely because they write puffs in the newspapers?" and he answered and said, "No." And he didn't. Nay, he gave them twice the amount of the chicken and also of the champagne, that they might by no means feel lonesome and out in the cold; and this to the great tightening of their waistcoats.

But there was one habit of him that had the bright eye, and this habit was the most affable of all the habits he had, which were all affable.

"Champagne."

And this habit, which was more affable than the affability of all his other habits, was this: he would at all times of the day, and also of the night, embrace any he might meet that wrote puffs in the newspapers; and would straight-way take them into the private bar and drink with them all manner of drinks, either hot or cold, either tall or short, as might the most please and comfort them; so that when any two or three of those that wrote puffs in the newspapers should meet together they would say, the one to the other, "For he is a jolly good fellow!"

And these also were greatly comforted and full of joy.

Then he that had the bright eye, even he that shook hands in so affable a way, got introduced to the wives and families of them that wrote puffs in the newspapers; and, that the wives and families also might not feel lonesome and out in the cold, he gave them little things, both this little thing and the other little thing; so that there was no end of the little things which he gave them; for he would give them all manner of little things, even peaches and peppermint-drops, and parasols, and books, and birthday cards, and bric-à-brac. And their babies also would he treat with great honour, presenting them with corals and teething-rings. And these persons also were content.

"Corals and teething-rings."

And it came to pass that, after a while, those that wrote puffs in the newspapers became so filled with a sense of the affability of him of the bright eye, that when they sat at their desks a-writing puffs for the newspapers, they would say within themselves: "As he is so affable, it stands to reason that the work of his hand must be very good and clever." So they did not examine his work (for it was not their business to examine any man's work; their business was to write puffs), but straightway set down in the newspaper: "His work is very clever; he is a great man" yet they said no word in the newspaper concerning his affability, nor of his asking after the health of their wives and families.

And this thing grew upon them so that at length they could not forbear from putting mention of him into all subjects of which they wrote, even though these subjects had no connection with him; as, for instance, they would say: "The Queen held a Drawing Room on such a day. He of the knowing eye did not attend"; or, "So-and-so was condemned to penal servitude at the Central Criminal Court; but he of the knowing eye (whose work is so clever) had nothing to do with the case, and was not present" or, "Shares are dull, but he is never dull," and so forth.

And these mentions were meant to be read by the Public, and the Public read them; and, moreover, they that wrote the puffs in the newspapers would often look out from the door of the newspaper office as the Public went by and call out: "He of the knowing eye is a very great man"; and yet they never spoke of his being so affable and inquiring; nor did they call out to the Public from the door of the private bar.

But it is needful to explain who the Public were. They were a class or sect whose duty it was to be innocent and helpless and easily taken in, and there was exceeding great care exercised in the selection of those who were to be members of the Public; for the moment that one of them showed any aptitude for helping himself (especially any aptitude for helping himself to that which belonged to others) he was straightway cast out from being a member of the Public and was compelled to become a member of the Legislature, or of a county council, or of a vestry, or to take up some other capacity in which it was his duty to defraud the Public. And it was the duty of the Public to believe all they were told (particularly what they were told in the newspapers), and to pay twice its value for everything and they did their duty.

So in this wise, when the Public read in the newspapers how he of the knowing eye was a very great and clever man, they went about saying one to another, "He is a very great and clever man. Who is he?"

And all this while that other person who was quiet and had a small business in a back street, and did not ask after the health of the wives and families of them whose duty it was to write puffs in the newspapers; all this time he had holes in his boots and no jam on his bread. And his head was bald, and he had many lines across the forehead; and his waistcoat was very loose; and his name was Mr. Talent.

"Mr. Talent."

Then the Public began to inquire, saying "Who is he that has the bright and knowing eye, and what is his name?" For, when one would go about speaking of the greatness of a person, it is better that one should know his name; for, if one does not know his name, then one must needs identify him in some other way, such as saying "He who wrote so and so," or, "He that drew such a picture"; the which thing is awkward when one knows nothing of his works, but only knows that he is a great man.

In such wise the Public wished to know his name; for in certain cases, when one of them would say, "He is a great man," another would say, "What has he achieved?" whereat the first must needs say, "I know not; but he is a great man, for the newspaper says so." Now, if the first speaker had but known his name, he might have answered to the question of the second, "Go to, Ignorance! Dost thou not know the works of A?"

So when the Public said, "What is his name?" those who wrote puffs in the newspapers replied with one voice, "His name is Mr. Talent."

And this was a strange thing, that they did not reply, "He is Mr. Affability," or "Mr. Shaker of the Hand"; but they said, "Mr. Talent."

Now when the Public heard this reply they were greatly puzzled; for the name on the door-plate of him who had the poor little business in a back street was "Mr. Talent." So they went to those whose duty it was to write puffs in the newspapers, and said, "Is he the brother of him of the back street?" And those others replied, "We know of no one in a back street. We know of no Mr. Talent except him who is affable and shakes hands frequently, and asks after our families, and drinks with us, and gives us chicken and champagne. There is no other Mr. Talent."

But the moment they had said these things they saw that they had forgotten themselves, and made a slip of the tongue. However, it was all right; for the Public, for all they were puzzled by it, did not understand the thing which had been said, being too foolish.

Now, when Mr. Talent, of the back street, heard of all this, he delayed for some time; and after that wrote a plaintive letter to the editors of the newspapers, saying that he was Mr. Talent, and the other was not. And the editors said to those whose duty was to write the puffs: "Do you know this Mr. Talent, of the back street? Can he really be Mr. Talent?" And then those others replied: "He cannot be Mr. Talent; for the only Mr. Talent we know always dictates to us what we shall say about his works in the puffs which it is our duty to put in the newspapers; and this one hath never done this thing, so that he cannot be Mr. Talent. But for all that, we will go and inquire, that we may not be in error."

So they went to him that had the bright and knowing eye; and they inquired of him, saying, "Can this other really be Mr. Talent, instead of you?"

"He shook them all by the hand seven times."

And he said, "Nay, he cannot be"; and straightway shook them all by the hand seven times, and made a great feast of chicken and champagne; and he also dictated to them many little pars about himself, the which they were to insert in the papers; and the pars ran thus and thus: "Mr. Talent, who is a very great man, has gone on a yachting cruise," and, "Among the guests at Marlborough House were the Marquis of A, and Prince B, and Mr. Talent," and so forth. And those that wrote the puffs went back satisfied to the editors; and the editors suppressed the letter of him of the back street.

Now, had he of the knowing eye not overlooked one of those whose duty it was to write the puffs, then would all have been well; but there was one of these whose hand he had forgotten to shake, and whose wife and family he had neglected to inquire after; so that this one, reading the letter of him of the back street, felt that there might be something in this thing, and that it was his duty to inquire, in order that justice might be done if necessary.

So he went to him of the back street, and inquired of the matter, holding out his hand to be shaken, and stating that he had a family, and looking about on the table to see if the whisky and soda were there; but when he of the back street neither shook his hand, nor inquired of his family, nor gave him to drink, he said to himself that there could be nothing in it; yet, nevertheless, he got his editor to publish the letter, to the end that he of the knowing eye might be reminded that he had not shaken his hand, nor done his duty.

And the Public read this letter in that newspaper, and were dreadfully puzzled and upset; so much so, that some among them began to believe that he of the back street was Mr. Talent; and there was great confusion and questioning; and everybody went about saying, "Who is the real Mr. Talent?"

Then said he of the bright eye to himself: "Shall I not go into partnership with this old Talent?" (For you see that he called the other by that name to himself, just as though he himself were not Mr. Talent, but someone else; the which is very curious to think of!) And he said, "This old Talent may be useful even to me; at least, I shall be as well with him as without him."

So he went into partnership with him of the back street who had no jam to his bread, and the next week they both came out of the back street and built a palace in the broadest thoroughfare, and set up gilded lamps, and a flag, and nine footmen in golden liveries, and had a trumpeter at the front door.

"The public were deadfully puzzled."

But when anyone called he was received by him with the knowing eye, and the hands that came to be shaken were shaken by him; and he that had been of the back street was not seen at all, but lived at the very top in an attic, and did the work. So then everyone was satisfied, and began to examine the works of Mr. Talent, and found them very good; and these were the same works which they had examined before, when they had been issued from the shop in the back street; but they did not recognise them.

And he from the back street was satisfied with this arrangement, for he was now able to have jam on his bread, and new boots.

And it came to pass one day, when he of the knowing eye was making a speech at a banquet in his honour, given by those who wrote the puffs and other admirers of ability, that he fall from his pocket an envelope addressed to him by his mother.

"He let fall from his pocket an envelope."

Now he had always carefully burned these envelopes which he had received from his mother, so that no man might see them. And the principal organizer of the banquet (who was a most Influential Person, and a Great Judge of Talent and Patron of Genuine Ability, and looked upon as a Most Discerning Critic) happened to pick up the envelope; and behold the name written upon the envelope was "Mr. Push!"

So then the Great Judge of Talent bit his lip and turned pale and nearly choked; and all the others at the table, hastening to see what was upon the envelope which had so upset him, read the writing upon it; and when they saw that the guest of the evening was named "Mr. Push" instead of "Mr. Talent," behold they all bit their lips and turned pale and nearly choked.

But as for Mr. Push (for that, indeed, was his name, for his mother must needs have known), he smiled more affably than ever, and went round the table shaking seven times the hand of each one present, and asking after the health of even their most distant relations.

And the next day, when their heads were cool, all the people who had been at the banquet thought that thing calmly out, the right side up; and they saw, even as one man, that no Mr. Push could possibly be admitted to exist.

For they said, "Have we not admired him as Mr. Talent, and raved about him, saying: 'He is a great man'? And shall we now say he is not Mr. Talent, as we fancied, but Mr. Push? No, indeed!"

So, behold, they all went in a body to call upon him, and to assure him that his mother was mistaken about his name, and that he was Mr. Talent.

And they put it fairly to him, saying: "Can we all, being Influential and Competent Appreciators, have made a mistake?" And he saw the force of their argument; and he frankly admitted that they could not have made a mistake, and that he was Mr. Talent.

Then Mr. Push (for that in truth was his name) said to himself: "I can now dispense with the partnership of old Talent, for will not my work do as well as his, now that it will not do for the critics to have made a mistake? And why should mere Talent take part of the profits that rightly belong to Push?" And he straightway went and turned out poor old Talent from the business, taking away his jam and his new boots—nay, even his bread which he had brought into the firm; and Mr. Push went on producing work on his own account; and the critics, and those whose duty it is to write the puffs for the newspapers (which two classes are by some considered to be identical), cried out louder than ever about his greatness, and told how he parted his hair, and how much mustard he ate, and what sort of hats he wore. And Mr. Push made so much money that he was knighted for being rich; and then a very noble and generous thought occurred to him; and he said to himself: "If I shall be so magnanimous as to build an almshouse, and put old Talent into it, I shall be made a lord, because of my virtue and munificence."

So he builded the almshouse; and on the front of it he put a graven stone which nearly covered the front, and made it necessary to place the windows at the back; and on the stone was carven:—

"THE ALMSHOUSE
WAS ERECTED BY
SIR TALENT
FOR THE BENEFIT OF A POOR RELATION."

But when he tried to find old Talent he could not.

Now at this time that writer of puffs who had not been shaken by the hand by Mr. Push, put it about that Mr. Push, and those others whose duty it was to write the puffs in the newspapers, were to be prosecuted for conspiring to make away with poor old Talent; but when Mr. Push had gone about and shaken the hands of the public prosecutor, and of the judges, and of such as might haply be called on the jury, and had asked after the health of their relations; it was publicly denied that there was to be any such prosecution, and Sir Push was made Lord Push and Baron Brazenfront.

And the day after that they found poor old Talent by the roadside, dead of starvation.

And that is the story of the Identity of Mr. Push.

J. F. Sullivan.

The above Plate Exhibits the Autographs of some of the Principal Conspirators in the Gunpowder Plot.

• Robert Catesbye.—Taken from an original letter from Catesbye to his cousin, John Grant, entreating him to provide money against a certain time. This autograph is very rare.

• Guido Fawkes.—Taken from his declaration made in the Tower, on the 19th November, and afterwards acknowledged before the Lords Commissioners. When first apprehended he called himself John Johnson, and it was not until his third examination he confessed his name was Guy Fawkes.

• Thomas Percy.—From an original letter to W. Wycliff, Esq., of York, date at Gainsborough, November 2nd, 1605.

• Henry Garnet.—From one of his examinations, wherein he confessed to have been on a pilgrimage to Winifred's Well.

• Amrose Rookewood. From an original letter, declaring that he had felt a scruple of conscience, the fact seeming "too bluddy."

• Thomas Wintour.—From an original examination before the Lords Commissioners, on the 25th November, 1605.

• Francis Tresam.—From his examination relative to the book on Equivocation. Tresam escaped being hanged by dying in the Tower, on the 23rd December, 1605.

• Sir Everard Digby.—From an original examination. He was related to John Digby, subsequently created Baron Digby and Earl of Bristol, and was a young man of considerable talent. He was in the 24th year of his age when executed.

• To the Right Hon. the Lord Mounteagle.—The superscription to the anonymous letter that led to the discovery of the plot. By whom it was written still remains a mystery. The Conspirators themselves suspected Tresam, but he solemnly denied it; and nothing transpired on the trials of any of the Conspirators, by which the author could be ascertained. All the principal Conspirators were married and had families; several of them possessed considerable property, and were highly, and in some instances nobly, related.