The Lord of the Sea | Page 7

picked up a Pearson's Weekly, and pointed to a
paragraph headed:
"FIVE HUNDRED-POUND NOTES!

"FIFTY TEN-POUND NOTES!!
"ONE HUNDRED FIVE-POUND NOTES!!!"
--a prize for "the most intelligent" article, explaining the cause, or
causes, of "the present distress and commercial crisis".
Loveday read it smiling.
"Ah", said he, "but who is to be the judge of 'the most intelligent' article?
Pearson must himself be of the highest intelligence to decide".
"True", said Hogarth. "But the man who offered that prize has indicated
to the nation the thing which it should be doing. If I was able to form
an Association to enter this competition--and why not? Stop--I will go
with you--"
So that evening they walked to Beccles, and took train for Yarmouth.
The candidate to speak was a Mr. Moses Max, a Liberal Jew; the chair
to be taken by Baruch Frankl; and in the midst of a row, the stately
great men entered upon the platform and occupied it, hisses like the
escape of steam mixing with "He's a jolly good fellow". Midway down
the pit sat Loveday, and with him Hogarth, whose large stare ranged
solemnly round and down from galleries to floor.
Frankl sipped water, and rose, amid shouts of: "Circular!" "Capsand
-tassels!"
He made a speech of which nothing was known, except the amiable
bows, for a continual noising filled the hall; and up rose Mr. Moses
Max, a stout fair Jew, whose fist struck with a regular, heavy emphasis.
After ten minutes, when he began to be heard, he was saying:
"...Sir Bennett Beaumont! Is he the sort of man you'd send to represent
you? (Cries of: "Yes!") What is he?--ask yourselves the question: a
fossilized Tory, a man who's about as much idea of progress as a
mummy--people actually say he's got a collection of mummies in his

grand fashionable mansion at Aylesham, and it's only what we should
expect of him. (Cheers, and cries of: "Oh, oh!") And what has he ever
done for East Norfolk? Gentlemen, you may say as you like about
Jews--Jews this, and Jews that--and every man has a right to his
opinion in this land of glorious Saxon liberty--but no one can deny that
it's Jews who know how to make the money. (Cheers and hisses.) They
know how to make it for themselves (hisses)--and, yes, they know how
to make it for the nation! (Loud triumph of cheers.) That's_ the
point--_that touches the spot! (Cries of: "Oh, oh!") Righteousness, it is
said, exalteth a nation: well, so do Jews--"
"That is false", said a voice--Hogarth, who had stood up.
The words were the signal for a shower of cheers swept by gusts of
hisses; and immediately one region of the pit was seen to be a
scrimmage of fisticuffs, mixed with policemen, sticks, savage faces,
and bent backs; while the two galleries, craning to see, bellowed like
Bashan.
Moses Max was leaning wildly, gesticulating, with shouts; while
Loveday, who had turned pale on Hogarth's rising, touched Hogarth's
coat-tail, whereupon Hogarth, stooping to his ear, shouted: "We will
have some fun..."
"The paid agents of Beaumont!" now shouted Moses Max; "sent to
disturb our meeting! Englishmen! will you submit to this? The nation
shall hear--"
At that point Moses Max, in his gesticulation, happening to touch a
switch in the platform-rail, out glowered into darkness every light at
that end of the hall: at which thing the audience was thrown into a state
of boisterous lawlessness, a tumult reigning in the gloom like the
constant voice of Niagara, until suddenly the platform was again lit up,
and the uproar lulled.
And now again Moses Max was prone to speak, with lifted fist; but
before ever he could utter one single word, a voice was ringing through
the Assembly Rooms:

"Where was Moses when the light went out?"
This again was Hogarth; and it ended Moses Max for that night.
Hogarth had not sat since he had called out "That is false": his tall
figure was recognized; and, with that electric spontaneity of crowds, he
was straightway the leader of the meeting, men darting from their seats
with waving hats, sticks, arms, and vociferous mouth, the chairman half
standing, with a shivering finger directed upon Hogarth, shrieking to
the police: but too late--Hogarth had brushed past Loveday's
knees--was dashing for the crowded platformsteps --was picking his
way, stumbling, darting up them.
Crumpled in his hand was a Pearson's Weekly.
Now he is to the front--near Frankl.
"Friends! I have ventured to take the place of our friend, Moses,
here--no ill-will to him--for with respect to the question before us,
whether we elect Beaumont or Max, I care, I confess, little. I'm rather
an Anti-Jew myself (hissing and cheers), but it strikes me that the Jews
are the least of our trouble. To