"I was in such a fuss about her, you know, sir, that I never found out, till I got home, I had pocketed a strange fan--here it is, ma'am, if it is yours--it's worth any body's owning, I am sure."

The fan was my mother's, and she was forced to be much obliged. Lady de Brantefield, still painfully holding back, did not resume her position till some seconds had elapsed after Mrs. Coates had withdrawn her fat bust--till it might be supposed that the danger of coming into contact with her was fairly over. My mother, after a decent interval, asked me if it were possible to move to some place where they could have more air, as the crowd was increasing. Lord Mowbray and I made way for her to a seat by an open window; but the persevering Mrs. Coates followed, talking about the famous elbows of Mr. Peter Coates, on whose arm she leaned. "When Peter chooses, there's not a man in Lon'on knows the use of his elbows better, and if we'd had him, Mr. Harrington, with us at the play, the other night, we should not have given you so much trouble with Miss Montenero, getting her out."

Lord Mowbray, amused by my look of suffering, could not refrain from diverting himself further by asking a question or two about the Monteneros. It was soon apparent, from the manner in which Mrs. Coates answered, that she was not as well pleased with them as formerly.

It was her maxim, she said, to speak of the bridge as she went over it; and for her part, if she was to give her verdict, she couldn't but say Miss Montenero--for they weren't on terms to call her Miss Berry now--was a little incomprehensible sometimes.

A look of surprise from Lord Mowbray, without giving himself the trouble to articulate, was quite sufficient to make the lady go on.

"Why, if it concerned any gentleman" (glancing her ill-bred eye upon me), "if any gentleman was thinking of looking that way, it might be of use to him to know the land. Miss Montenero, then, if truth must be told, is a little touchy on the Jewish chapter."

Lord Mowbray urged Mrs. Coates on with "How, for instance?" "Oh, how!

why, my lord, a hundred times I've hurt her to the quick. One can't always be thinking of people's different persuasions you know--and if one asked a question, just for information's sake, or made a natural remark, as I did t'other day, Queeney, you know, just about Jew butchers, and pigeons--'It's a pity,' said I, 'that Jews must always have Jew butchers, Miss Berry, and that there is so many things they can't touch: one can't have pigeons nor hares at one's table,' said I, thinking only of my second course; 'as to pork, Henny,' says I, 'that's a coa.r.s.e butcher's meat, which I don't regret, nor the alderman, a pinch o' snuff'--now, you know, I thought that was kind of me; but Miss Montenero took it all the wrong way, quite to heart so, you've no idear!

After all, she may say what she pleases, but it's my notion the Jews is both a very unsocial and a very revengeful people; for, do you know, my lord, they wouldn't dine with us next day, though the alderman called himself."

My mother was so placed that she could not avoid hearing all that Mrs.

Coates said to Lord Mowbray; and though she never uttered a syllable, or raised her eyes, or moved the fan she held in her hand, I knew by her countenance the impression that was made on her mind: she would have scorned, on any other subject of human life or manners, to have allowed the judgment of Mrs. Coates to weigh with her in the estimation of a single hair; yet here her opinion and _idears_ were admitted to be decisive.

Such is prejudice! thought I. Prejudice, even in the proudest people, will stoop to accept of nourishment from any hand. Prejudice not only grows on what it feeds upon, but converts every thing it meets with into nourishment.

How clear-sighted I was to the nature of prejudice at this moment, and how many reflections pa.s.sed in one instant, which I had never made before in the course of my life!--Meantime Mrs. Coates had beckoned to her son Peter, and Peter had drawn near, and was called upon by his mother to explain to my lord the cause of the _coolness_ betwixt the alderman and Mr. Montenero: "It was," she said, "about the Manessas, and a young man called Jacob."

Peter was not as fluent as his mother, and she went on. "It was some money matter. Mr. Montenero had begun by acting a very generous part, she understood, at first, by way of being the benevolent Jew, but had not come up to the alderman's expectations latterly, and had shown a most illiberal partiality to the Manessas, and this Jacob, only because they _was_ Jews; which, you know," said Mrs. Coates, "was very ungentleman-like to the alderman, after all the civilities we had shown the Monteneros on their coming to Lon'on--as Peter, if he could open his mouth, could tell you."

Peter had just opened his mouth, when Mr. Montenero appearing, he closed it again. To my inexpressible disappointment, Miss Montenero was not with her father. Mr. Montenero smiled the instant he caught my eye, but seeing my mother as he approached, he bowed gravely, and pa.s.sed on.

"And never noticed me, I declare," said Mrs. Coates: "that's too good!"

"But Miss Montenero! I thought she was to be here?" cried Mowbray.

Mrs. Coates, after her fashion, stretching across two of her daughters, whispered to the third, loud enough for all to hear, "Queeney, this comes of airs!--This comes of her not choosing for to go abroad with me, I suppose."

"If people doesn't know their friends when they has 'em," replied Queeney, "they may go farther and fare worse: that's all I have to say."

"Hush!" said Peter, giving his sister a monitory pinch--"can't you say your say under your breath? _he's_ within seven of you, and he has ears like the devil."

"All them Jews has, and Jewesses too; they think one's always talking of them, they're so suspicious," said Mrs. Coates. "I am told, moreover, that they've ways and means of hearing."

To my great relief, she was interrupted by the auctioneer, and the sound of his hammer. The auction went on, and nothing but "Who bids more?

going!--going!--who bids more?" was heard for a considerable time.

Not being able to get near Mr. Montenero, and having failed in all my objects, I grew excessively tired, and was going away, leaving my mother to the care of Mowbray, but he stopped me. "Stay, stay," said he, drawing me aside, behind two connoisseurs, who were babbling about a t.i.tian, "you will have some diversion by and by. I have a picture to sell, and you must see how it will go off. There is a painting that I bought at a stall for nothing, upon a speculation that my mother, who is a judge, will pay dear for; and what do you think the picture is? Don't look so stupid--it will interest you amazingly, and Mr. Montenero too, and 'tis a pity your Jewess is not here to see it. Did you ever hear of a picture called the 'Dent.i.tion of the Jew?'"

"Not I."

"You'll see, presently," said Mowbray.

"But tell me _now_," said I.

"Only the drawing the teeth of the Jew, by order of some one of our most merciful lords the kings--John, Richard, or Edward."

"It will be a companion to the old family picture of the Jew and Sir Josseline," continued Mowbray; "and this will make the vile daub, which I've had the luck to pick up, invaluable to my mother, and I trust very valuable to me."

"There! Christie has it up! The dear rascal! hear him puff it!"

Lady de Brantefield put up her gla.s.s, but neither she nor I could distinguish a single figure in the picture, the light so glared upon it.

Christie caught her ladyship's eye, and addressed himself directly to her. But her ladyship was deaf. Mowbray pressed forward to her ear, and repeated all Christie roared. No sooner did she understand the subject of the picture than she turned to her son, to desire him to bid for her; but Mowbray subst.i.tuted Topham in his stead: Topham obeyed.

"Who bids more?"

A bidder started up, who seemed very eager. He was, we were told, an engraver.

"Who bids more?"

To our surprise, Mr. Montenero was the person to bid more--and more, and more, and more. The engraver soon gave up the contest, but her ladyship's pride and pa.s.sions rose when she found Mr. Montenero continued to bid against her; and she persisted, till she came up to an extravagant sum; and still she desired Colonel Topham to bid on.

"Beyond my expectation, faith! Both mad!" whispered Mowbray. I thought so too. Still Mr. Montenero went higher.

"I'll go no higher," said Lady de Brantefield; "you may let it be knocked down to that person, Colonel." Then turning to her son, "Who is the man that bids against me?"

"A Jewish gentleman, ma'am, I believe."

"A Jew, perhaps--gentleman, I deny; no Jew ever was or ever will be a gentleman. I am sure our family, since the time of Sir Josseline, have had reason enough to know that."

"Very true, ma'am--I'll call for your carriage, for I suppose you have had enough of this."

Mowbray carried me with him. "Come off," said he; "I long to hear Montenero descant on the merits of the dent.i.tion. Do you speak, for you can do it with a better face."

Mowbray seemed to be intent merely upon his own diversion; he must have seen and felt how reluctant I was: but, taking my arm, he dragged me on to Mr. Montenero, who was standing near a window, with the picture in his hand, examining it attentively. Mowbray pushed me on close behind Mr. Montenero--the light now falling on the picture, I saw it for the first time, and the sight struck me with such a.s.sociated feelings of horror, that I started back, exclaiming, with vehement gestures, "I cannot bear it! I cannot bear that picture!"

Mr. Montenero turned, and looked at me with surprise.

"I beg pardon, sir," said I; "but it made me absolutely--"

"Sick," said Mr. Montenero, opening the window, as I leaned back against the wall, and the eyes of all present were fixed upon me. Ashamed of the exaggerated expression of my feelings, I stood abashed. Mr. Montenero, with the greatest kindness of manner, and with friendly presence of mind, said he remembered well having felt actually sick at the sight of certain pictures. "For instance, my lord," said he, addressing himself to Lord Mowbray, "the famous picture of the flaying the unjust magistrate I never could look at steadily."

I recovered myself--and squeezing Mr. Montenero's hand to express my sense of his kind politeness, I exerted myself to talk and to look at the picture. Afraid of Mowbray's ridicule, I never once turned my eyes towards him--I fancied that he was laughing behind me: I did him injustice; he was not laughing--he looked seriously concerned. He whispered to me, "Forgive me, my dear Harrington--I aimed at _mamma_--I did not mean to hurt you."

Before we quitted the subject, I expressed to Mr. Montenero my surprise at his having purchased, at an extraordinary price, a picture apparently of so little merit, and on such a disgusting subject.

"Abuse the subject as much as you please," interrupted Mowbray; "but as to the merit of the painting, have the grace, Harrington, to consider, that Mr. Montenero must be a better judge than you or I."

"You are too good a judge yourself, my lord," replied Mr. Montenero, in a reserved tone, "not to see this picture to be what it really is, a very poor performance." Then turning to me in a cordial manner, "Be a.s.sured, Mr. Harrington, that I am at least as clear-sighted, in every point of view, as you can possibly be, to its demerits."

"Then why did you purchase it?" was the question, which involuntarily recurred to Mowbray and to me; but we were both silent, and stood with our eyes fixed upon the picture.

"Gentlemen, if you will do me the honour to dine with me to-morrow,"

said Mr. Montenero, "you shall know the purpose for which I bought this picture."