The Halberdier of the Little Rheinschloss
I go sometimes into the /Bierhalle/ and restaurant called Old Munich.Not long ago it was a resort of interesting Bohemians, but now onlyartists and musicians and literary folk frequent it. But the Pilsneris yet good, and I take some diversion from the conversation of WaiterNo. 18.
For many years the customers of Old Munich have accepted the place asa faithful copy from the ancient German town. The big hall with itssmoky rafters, rows of imported steins, portrait of Goethe, and versespainted on the walls--translated into German from the original of theCincinnati poets--seems atmospherically correct when viewed throughthe bottom of a glass.
But not long ago the proprietors added the room above, called it theLittle Rheinschloss, and built in a stairway. Up there was animitation stone parapet, ivy-covered, and the walls were painted torepresent depth and distance, with the Rhine winding at the base ofthe vineyarded slopes, and the castle of Ehrenbreitstein loomingdirectly opposite the entrance. Of course there were tables andchairs; and you could have beer and food brought you, as you naturallywould on the top of a castle on the Rhine.
I went into Old Munich one afternoon when there were few customers,and sat at my usual table near the stairway. I was shocked and almostdispleased to perceive that the glass cigar-case by the orchestrastand had been smashed to smithereens. I did not like things to happenin Old Munich. Nothing had ever happened there before.
Waiter No. 18 came and breathed on my neck. I was his by right ofdiscovery. Eighteen's brain was built like a corral. It was full ofideas which, when he opened the gate, came huddling out like a flockof sheep that might get together afterward or might not. I did notshine as a shepherd. As a type Eighteen fitted nowhere. I did not findout if he had a nationality, family, creed, grievance, hobby, soul,preference, home, or vote. He only came always to my table and, aslong as his leisure would permit, let words flutter from him likeswallows leaving a barn at daylight.
"How did the cigar-case come to be broken, Eighteen?" I asked, with acertain feeling of personal grievance.
"I can tell you about that, sir," said he, resting his foot on thechair next to mine. "Did you ever have anybody hand you a doublehandful of good luck while both your hands were full of bad luck, andstop to notice how your fingers behaved?"
"No riddles, Eighteen," said I. "Leave out palmistry and manicuring."
"You remember," said Eighteen, "the guy in the hammered brass PrinceAlbert and the oroide gold pants and the amalgamated copper hat, thatcarried the combination meat-axe, ice-pick, and liberty-pole, and usedto stand on the first landing as you go up to the Little Rindslosh."
"Why, yes," said I. "The halberdier. I never noticed him particularly.I remember he thought he was only a suit of armour. He had a perfectpoise."
"He had more than that," said Eighteen. "He was me friend. He was anadvertisement. The boss hired him to stand on the stairs for a kind ofscenery to show there was something doing in the has-been lineupstairs. What did you call him--a what kind of beer?"
"A halberdier," said I. "That was an ancient man-at-arms of manyhundred years ago."
"Some mistake," said Eighteen. "This one wasn't that old. He wasn'tover twenty-three or four.
"It was the boss's idea, rigging a man up in an ante-bellum suit oftinware and standing him on the landing of the slosh. He bought thegoods at a Fourth Avenue antique store, and hung a sign-out: 'Able-bodied hal--halberdier wanted. Costume furnished.'
"The same morning a young man with wrecked good clothes and a hungrylook comes in, bringing the sign with him. I was filling the mustard-pots at my station.
"'I'm it,' says he, 'whatever it is. But I never halberdiered in arestaurant. Put me on. Is it a masquerade?'
"'I hear talk in the kitchen of a fishball,' says I.
"'Bully for you, Eighteen,' says he. 'You and I'll get on. Show me theboss's desk.'
"Well, the boss tries the Harveyized pajamas on him, and they fittedhim like the scales on a baked redsnapper, and he gets the job. You'veseen what it is--he stood straight up in the corner of the firstlanding with his halberd to his shoulder, looking right ahead andguarding the Portugals of the castle. The boss is nutty about havingthe true Old-World flavour to his joint. 'Halberdiers goes withRindsloshes,' says he, 'just as rats goes with rathskellers and whitecotton stockings with Tyrolean villages.' The boss is a kind of aantiologist, and is all posted up on data and such information.
"From 8 P.M. to two in the morning was the halberdier's hours. He gottwo meals with us help and a dollar an night. I eat with him at thetable. He liked me. He never told his name. He was travellingimpromptu, like kings, I guess. The first time at supper I says tohim: 'Have some more of the spuds, Mr. Frelinghuysen.' 'Oh, don't beso formal and offish, Eighteen,' says he. 'Call me Hal--that's shortfor halberdier.' 'Oh, don't think I wanted to pry for names,' says I.'I know all about the dizzy fall from wealth and greatness. We've gota count washing dishes in the kitchen; and the third bartender used tobe a Pullman conductor. And they /work/, Sir Percival,' says I,sarcastic.
"'Eighteen,' says he, 'as a friendly devil in a cabbage-scented hell,would you mind cutting up this piece of steak for me? I don't say thatit's got more muscle than I have, but--' And then he shows me theinsides of his hands. They was blistered and cut and corned andswelled up till they looked like a couple of flank steaks criss-crossed with a knife--the kind the butchers hide and take home,knowing what is the best.
"'Shoveling coal,' says he, 'and piling bricks and loading drays. Butthey gave out, and I had to resign. I was born for a halberdier, andI've been educated for twenty-four years to fill the position. Now,quit knocking my profession, and pass along a lot more of that ham.I'm holding the closing exercises,' says he, 'of a forty-eight-hourfast.'
"The second night he was on the job he walks down from his corner tothe cigar-case and calls for cigarettes. The customers at the tablesall snicker out loud to show their acquaintance with history. The bossis on.
"'An'--let's see--oh, yes--'An anachronism,' says the boss.'Cigarettes was not made at the time when halberdiers was invented.'
"'The ones you sell was,' says Sir Percival. 'Caporal wins fromchronology by the length of a cork tip.' So he gets 'em and lightsone, and puts the box in his brass helmet, and goes back to patrolingthe Rindslosh.
"He made a big hit, 'specially with the ladies. Some of 'em would pokehim with their fingers to see if he was real or only a kind of astuffed figure like they burn in elegy. And when he'd move they'dsqueak, and make eyes at him as they went up to the slosh. He lookedfine in his halberdashery. He slept at $2 a week in a hall-room onThird Avenue. He invited me up there one night. He had a little bookon the washstand that he read instead of shopping in the saloons afterhours. 'I'm on to that,' says I, 'from reading about it in novels. Allthe heroes on the bum carry the little book. It's either Tantalus orLiver or Horace, and its printed in Latin, and you're a college man.And I wouldn't be surprised,' says I, 'if you wasn't educated, too.'But it was only the batting averages of the League for the last tenyears.
"One night, about half past eleven, there comes in a party of thesehigh-rollers that are always hunting up new places to eat in and pokefun at. There was a swell girl in a 40 H.-P. auto tan coat and veil,and a fat old man with white side-whiskers, and a young chap thatcouldn't keep his feet off the tail of the girl's coat, and an oldishlady that looked upon life as immoral and unnecessary. 'How perfectlydelightful,' they says, 'to sup in a slosh.' Up the stairs they go;and in half a minute back down comes the girl, her skirts swishinglike the waves on the beach. She stops on the landing and looks ourhalberdier in the eye.
"'You!' she says, with a smile that reminded me of lemon sherbet. Iwas waiting up-stairs in the slosh, then, and I was right down here bythe door, putting some vinegar and cayenne into an empty bottle oftabasco, and I heard all they said.
"'It,' says Sir Percival, without moving. 'I'm only local colour. Aremy hauberk, helmet, and halberd on straight?'
"'Is there an explanation to this?' says she. 'Is it a practical jokesuch as men play in those Griddle-cake and Lamb Clubs? I'm afraid Idon't see the point. I heard, vaguely, that you were away. For threemonths I--we have not seen you or heard from you.'
"'I'm halberdiering for my living,' says the stature. 'I'm working,'says he. 'I don't suppose you know what work means.'
"'Have you--have you lost your money?' she asks.
"Sir Percival studies a minute.
"'I am poorer,' says he, 'than the poorest sandwich man on the streets--if I don't earn my living.'
"'You call this work?' says she. 'I thought a man worked with hishands or his head instead of becoming a mountebank.'
"'The calling of a halberdier,' says he, 'is an ancient and honourableone. Sometimes,' says he, 'the man-at-arms at the door has saved thecastle while the plumed knights were cake-walking in the banquet-hallsabove.'
"'I see you're not ashamed,' says she, 'of your peculiar tastes. Iwonder, though, that the manhood I used to think I saw in you didn'tprompt you to draw water or hew wood instead of publicly flauntingyour ignominy in this disgraceful masquerade.'
"Sir Percival kind of rattles his armour and says: 'Helen, will yoususpend sentence in this matter for just a little while? You don'tunderstand,' says he. 'I've got to hold this job down a littlelonger.'
"'You like being a harlequin--or halberdier, as you call it?' saysshe.
"'I wouldn't get thrown of the job just now,' says he, with a grin,'to be appointed Minister to the Court of St. James's.'
"And then the 40-H.P. girl's eyes sparked as hard as diamonds.
"'Very well,' says she. 'You shall have full run of your serving-man'stastes this night.' And she swims over to the boss's desk and giveshim a smile that knocks the specks off his nose.
"'I think your Rindslosh,' says she, 'is as beautiful as a dream. Itis a little slice of the Old World set down in New York. We shall havea nice supper up there; but if you will grant us one favour theillusion will be perfect--give us your halberdier to wait on ourtable.'
"That hits the boss's antiology hobby just right. 'Sure,' says he,'dot vill be fine. Und der orchestra shall blay "Die Wacht am Rhein"all der time.' And he goes over and tells the halberdier to goupstairs and hustle the grub at the swells' table.
"'I'm on the job,' says Sir Percival, taking off his helmet andhanging it on his halberd and leaning 'em in the corner. The girl goesup and takes her seat and I see her jaw squared tight under her smile.'We're going to be waited on by a real halberdier,' says she, 'one whois proud of his profession. Isn't it sweet?'
"'Ripping,' says the swell young man. 'Much prefer a waiter,' says thefat old gent. 'I hope he doesn't come from a cheap museum,' says theold lady; 'he might have microbes in his costume.'
"Before he goes to the table, Sir Percival takes me by the arm.'Eighteen,' he says, 'I've got to pull off this job without a blunder.You coach me straight or I'll take that halberd and make hash out ofyou.' And then he goes up to the table with his coat of mail on and anapkin over his arm and waits for the order.
"'Why, it's Deering!' says the young swell. 'Hello, old man. Whatthe--'
"'Beg pardon, sir,' interrupts the halberdier, 'I'm waiting on thetable.'
"The old man looks at him grim, like a Boston bull. 'So, Deering,' hesays, 'you're at work yet.'
"'Yes, sir,' says Sir Percival, quiet and gentlemanly as I could havebeen myself, 'for almost three months, now.' 'You haven't beendischarged during the time?' asks the old man. 'Not once, sir,' sayshe, 'though I've had to change my work several times.'
"'Waiter,' orders the girl, short and sharp, 'another napkin.' Hebrings her one, respectful.
"I never saw more devil, if I may say it, stirred up in a lady. Therewas two bright red spots on her cheeks, and her eyes looked exactlylike a wildcat's I'd seen in the zoo. Her foot kept slapping the floorall the time.
"'Waiter,' she orders, 'bring me filtered water without ice. Bring mea footstool. Take away this empty salt-cellar.' She kept him on thejump. She was sure giving the halberdier his.
"There wasn't but a few customers up in the slosh at that time, so Ihung out near the door so I could help Sir Percival serve.
"He got along fine with the olives and celery and the bluepoints. Theywas easy. And then the consomme came up the dumb-waiter all in one bigsilver tureen. Instead of serving it from the side-table he picks itup between his hands and starts to the dining-table with it. Whennearly there he drops the tureen smash on the floor, and the soupsoaks all the lower part of that girl's swell silk dress.
"'Stupid--incompetent,' says she, giving him a look. 'Standing in acorner with a halberd seems to be your mission in life.'
"'Pardon me, lady,' says he. 'It was just a little bit hotter thanblazes. I couldn't help it.'
"The old man pulls out a memorandum book and hunts in it. 'The 25th ofApril, Deering,' says he. 'I know it,' says Sir Percival. 'And tenminutes to twelve o'clock,' says the old man. 'By Jupiter! you haven'twon yet.' And he pounds the table with his fist and yells to me:'Waiter, call the manager at once--tell him to hurry here as fast ashe can.' I go after the boss, and old Brockmann hikes up to the sloshon the jump.
"'I want this man discharged at once,' roads the old guy. 'Look whathe's done. Ruined my daughter's dress. It cost at least $600.Discharge this awkward lout at once or I'll sue you for the price ofit.'
"'Dis is bad pizness,' says the boss. 'Six hundred dollars is much. Ireckon I vill haf to--'
"'Wait a minute, Herr Brockmann,' says Sir Percival, easy and smiling.But he was worked up under his tin suitings; I could see that. Andthen he made the finest, neatest little speech I ever listened to. Ican't give you the words, of course. He give the millionaires a lovelyroast in a sarcastic way, describing their automobiles and opera-boxesand diamonds; and then he got around to the working-classes and thekind of grub they eat and the long hours they work--and all that sortof stuff--bunkum, of course. 'The restless rich,' says he, 'nevercontent with their luxuries, always prowling among the haunts of thepoor and humble, amusing themselves with the imperfections andmisfortunes of their fellow men and women. And even here, HerrBrockmann,' he says, 'in this beautiful Rindslosh, a grand andenlightening reproduction of Old World history and architecture, theycome to disturb its symmetry and picturesqueness by demanding in theirarrogance that the halberdier of the castle wait upon their table! Ihave faithfuly and conscientiously,' says he, 'performed my duties asa halberdier. I know nothing of a waiter's duties. It was the insolentwhim of these transient, pampered aristocrats that I should bedetailed to serve them food. Must I be blamed--must I be deprived ofthe means of a livelihood,' he goes on, 'on account of an accidentthat was the result of their own presumption and haughtiness? But whathurts me more than all,' says Sir Percival, 'is the desecration thathas been done to this splendid Rindslosh--the confiscation of itshalberdier to serve menially at the banquet board.'
"Even I could see that this stuff was piffle; but it caught the boss.
"'Mein Gott,' says he, 'you vas right. Ein halberdier have not got derright to dish up soup. Him I vill not discharge. Have anoder waiter ifyou like, und let mein halberdier go back und stand mit his halberd.But, gentlemen,' he says, pointing to the old man, 'you go ahead andsue mit der dress. Sue me for $600 or $6,000. I stand der suit.' Andthe boss puffs off down-stairs. Old Brockmann was an all-rightDutchman.
"Just then the clock strikes twelve, and the old guy laughs loud. 'Youwin, Deering,' says he. 'And let me explain to all,' he goes on. 'Sometime ago Mr. Deering asked me for something that I did not want togive him.' (I looks at the girl, and she turns as red as a pickledbeet.) 'I told him,' says the old guy, 'if he would earn his ownliving for three months without being discharged for incompetence, Iwould give him what he wanted. It seems that the time was up at twelveo'clock to-night. I came near fetching you, though, Deering, on thatsoup question,' says the old boy, standing up and grabbing SirPercival's hand.
"The halberdier lets out a yell and jumps three feet high.
"'Look out for those hands,' says he, and he holds 'em up. You neversaw such hands except on a labourer in a limestone quarry.
"'Heavens, boy!' says old side-whiskers, 'what have you been doing to'em?'
"'Oh,' says Sir Percival, 'little chores like hauling coal andexcavating rock till they went back on me. And when I couldn't hold apick or a whip I took up halberdiering to give 'em a rest. Tureensfull of hot soup don't seem to be a particularly soothing treatment.'
"I would have bet on that girl. That high-tempered kind always go asfar the other way, according to my experience. She whizzes round thetable like a cyclone and catches both his hands in hers. 'Poor hands--dear hands,' she sings out, and sheds tears on 'em and holds 'em closeto her bosom. Well, sir, with all that Rindslosh scenery it was justlike a play. And the halberdier sits down at the table at the girl'sside, and I served the rest of the supper. And that was about all,except that when they left he shed his hardware store and went with'em."
I dislike to be side-tracked from an original proposition.
"But you haven't told me, Eighteen," said I, "how the cigar-case cameto be broken."
"Oh, that was last night," said Eighteen. "Sir Percival and the girldrove up in a cream-coloured motor-car, and had dinner in theRindslosh. 'The same table, Billy,' I heard her say as they went up. Iwaited on 'em. We've got a new halberdier now, a bow-legged guy with aface like a sheep. As they came down-stairs Sir Percival passes him aten-case note. The new halberdier drops his halberd, and it falls onthe cigar-case. That's how that happened."
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