Speaker 1: The Christmas Eve Burglary by Arnold Bennett. Lady Dane said, Gee,
if that portrait stays so much longer, you'll just have
to take me off to pie Hill one of these
fine mornings. Pie Hill is the seat of the great
local hospital, but it is also the seat of the
great local lunatic asylum. And when the inhabitants of the
Five Towns say merely Pye Hill, they mean the asylum.
I do declare. I can't fancy my food nowadays, said
Lady Dane, And it's all that portrait. She stared plaintively
up at the immense oil painting which faced her as
she sat at the breakfast table in her spacious and
opulent dining room. Sir Gehosifact made no remark despite Lady
Dane's animadversions upon it, despite the undoubted facts that it
was generally liked in the Five Towns. The portrait had
cost a thousand pounds, some said guineas, and though not
yet two years old, it was probably worse at least
fifteen hundred in the picture market, for it was a cressage.
And not only was it a cressage, it was one
of the finest cressages in existence. It marked the summit
of Sir Jehosaphat's career. Sir Jehosiphat's career was perhaps the
most successful and brilliant in the entire social history of
the Five Towns. This famous man was the principal partner
in Dane Brothers. His brother was dead, but two of
Sir G's sons were in the firm. Dane Brothers were
the largest manufacturers of cheapers and were in the district,
catering chiefly for the American and colonial buyer. They had
an extremely bad reputation for cutting prices. They were hated
by every other firm in the Five Towns, and to
hear rival manufacturer's talk, one would gather the impression that
Sir G had acquired a tremendous fortune by systematically selling
goods under cost. They were also hated by between eighteen
and nineteen hundred employees. But such hatred, however virulent, had
not marred the progress of Sir G's career. He had
meant to make a name, and he had made it.
The Five Towns might laugh at his vulgar snobbishness. The
Five Towns might sneer at his calculated philanthropy. But he
was nevertheless the best known man in the Five towns.
And it was precisely his snobbishness and his philanthropy which
had carried him to the top. Moreover, he had been
the first public man in the Five towns to gain
a knighthood. The Five Towns could not deny that it
was very proud, indeed, of this knighthood. The means by
which he had won this distinction were neither here nor there.
He had won it, And was he not the father
of his native borough, had he not been three times
mayor of his native borough. Was not the whole northern
half of the county dotted and spangled by his benefactions,
his institutions, his endowments. And it could not be denied
that he sometimes tickled the Five towns, as the five
towns likes being tickled. There was, for example, the notorious
sneed incident. Sneed Hall, belonging to the Earl of Chell,
lies a few miles south of the Five Towns, and
from it the pretty Countess of Chell exercises that condescending
meddlesomeness which so frequently exasperates the Five towns. Sir g
had got his title by the aid of the Countess,
interfering Iris, as she is locally dubbed. Shortly afterwards he
had contrived to quarrel with the Countess, and the quarrel
was conducted by Sir Gee as a quarrel between equals,
which delighted the district. Sir Jee's final word in it
had been to buy a sizeable tract of land near
Sneed Village, just off the Sneed Estate, and to erect
thereon a mansion quite as imposing a Sneed Hall, and
far more up to date, and to call the mansion
Sneed Castle. A mighty stroke. Iris was furious, the Earl's
speechless with fury, but they could do nothing naturally, the
five Towns was tickled. It was a propos of the
housewarming of Sneed Castle, also of the completion of his
third mayoralty, and of the or duration of the Dane
Technical Institute. That the movement had been started primarily by
a few Toadies for tendering to Sagee a popular gift
worthy to express the profound esteem in which he was
officially held in the Five Towns. It having been generally
felt that the gift should take the form of a portrait.
A local Dilettantia had suggested Cressage, and when the Five
Towns had inquired into Cressage and discovered that that genius
from the United States was celebrated throughout the civilized world
and regarded as the equal of Vilaskis, whoever Vilaskis might be,
and that he had painted half the aristocracy, and that
his income was regal, the suggestion was accepted and Cressage
was approached. Cressage haughtily consented to paint ser Gee's portrait
on his usual conditions, namely that the sitter should go
to the Life Village in Bedfordshire, where Cresige had his
principal studio, and that the painting should be exhibited at
the Royal Academy before being shown anywhere else. Cressage was
an ra, but no one thought of putting ra after
his name. He was so big that instead of the
Royal Academy conferring distinction on him, he conferred distinction on
the Royal Academy. Sir g went to Bedfordshire and was
rapidly painted, and he came back gloomy. The presentation committee
went to Bedfordshire later to inspect the portrait and they
too came back gloomy. Then the Academy exhibition opened, and
the portrait showing Sir G in his robe and chain
and in a chair was instantly hailed as possibly the
most glorious masterpiece of modern times. All the critics were
of one accord. The Committee and Sir Gee were reassured,
but only partially, and Sir g rather less so than
the committee, For there was something in the enthusiastic criticisms
which gravely disturbed them. An enlightened generation thoroughly familiar with
the dazzling, yearly succession of Cressage's portraits need not be
told what this something was. One critic wrote that Cressage
displayed even more than his quote customary astounding insight into
character end quote. Another critic wrote that Cressage's observation was
as usual quote calmly and coldly hostile end quote. Another
referred to the quote typical provincial mayor immortalized for the
diversion of future ages end quote. Inhabitants of the five
towns went to London to see the work for which
they had seen subscribed, And they saw a mean, little
old man with thin lips and a straggling gray beard
and shifty eyes and pushful snob written all over him,
ridiculous in his gewgaws of office. When you looked at
the picture close too, it was a meaningless mass of
colored smudges. But when you stood fifteen feet away from it,
the portrait was absolutely life like, amazing, miraculous. It was
so wondrously lifelike that some of the inhabitants of the
five towns burst out laughing. Many people felt sorry, not
for Sir Gee, but for Lady Dame. Lady Dane was
beloved and genuinely respected. She was a simple, homely, sincere woman,
her one weakness being that she had never been able
to see through Sir g Of course, at the presentation ceremony,
the portrait had been ecstatically referred to as a possession,
precious forever, and the recipient and his wife pretended to
be overflowing with pure joy in the ownership of it.
It had been hanging in the dining room of Sneed
Castle about sixteen months when Lady Dane told her husband
that it would ultimately drive her into the lunatic asylum.
Don't be silly, wife, said, Sir Gee, I wouldn't part
with that portrait for ten times what it cost. This was,
to speak bluntly, a downright lie. Sir Gee secretly hated
the portrait more than anyone hated it. He would have
been almost ready to burn down Sneed Castle in order
to get rid of the thing. But it happened that
on the previous evening, in conversation with the magistrate's clerk,
his receptive brain had been visited by a lesson expensive
scheme than burning down the castle. Lady Dane sighed, are
you going to town early? She inquired, Yes, he replied,
I'm on the rotor to day. He was chairman of
the Borough Bench of Magistrates. As he drove into town,
he revolved his scheme and thought it wild and dangerous,
but still feasible. Two on the bench that morning, Sir
g shocked mister Sherret, the magistrate's clerk, and he utterly
disgusted mister Bourne's, Superintendent of the Borough Police. I do
not intend to name the name of the borough, whether Bursley, Hanbridge, Knight,
Longshore or turn Hill. The inhabitants of the five towns
will know without being told. The rest of the world
has no right to know. There had recently occurred a
somewhat thrilling series of burglaries in the district, and the burglars,
a gang of them, was presumed, had escaped the solicitous
attentions of the police. But on the previous afternoon an
underling of mister Bournes had caught a man who was
generally believed to be wholly or partly responsible for the burglaries.
The five towns breathed with relief and congratulated mister Bourne,
and mister Bourne was well pleased with himself. The Staffordshire
signal headed the item of news smart capture of a
supposed burglar. The supposed burglar gave his name as William
Smith and otherwise behaved in an extremely suspicious manner. Now
Sir g sitting as Chief Magistrate in the Police Court,
actually dismissed the charge against the man, overruling his sole
colleague on the bench that morning, Alderman Easton. He dismissed
the charge against William Smith, holding that the evidence for
the prosecution was insufficient to justify even a remand no
wonder that mister Bourne was discouraged, not to say angry,
no wonder that that pillar of the law. Mister sherret
was pained and shocked at the conclusion of the case.
Ser Jehosifat said that he would be glad to speak
with William Smith afterwards in the magistrates room, indicating that
he sympathized with William Smith and wished to exercise upon
William Smith his renowned philanthropy. And so at about noon,
when the court majestically rose, Sir g retired to the
magistrates room, where the humble Alderman Eastern was discreet enough
not to follow him, and awaited William Smith. And William
Smith came, guided thither by a policeman, to whom, in
parting from him, he made a rude, surreptitious gesture. Sir ge,
seated in the armchair which dominates the other chairs round
the elm table in the magistrate's room, emitted a preliminary cough.
M Smith, he said, sternly, leaning his elbows on the table.
You are very fortunate this morning, you know, and he
gazed at Psmith. Smith stood near the door, cap in hand.
He did not resemble a burglar who surely ought to
be big, muscular and masterful. He resembled an undersized clerk
who has been out of work for a long time,
but who has nevertheless found the means to eat and
drink rather plenteously. He was clothed in a very shabby
navy blue suit, frayed at the wrists and ankles, and
greasy in front. His linen collar was brown with dirt.
His fingers were dirty, His hair was unkempt and long,
and a young and lusty black beard was sprouting on
his chin. His boots were not at all pleasant. Yes,
Governor Smith replied lightly, with a Manchester accent, and what's
your game? Sir Ge was taken aback. He is a
chairman of the Borough Bench and the leading philanthropist in
the county to be so spoken to. But what could
he do? He himself had legally established Smith's innocence. Smith
was as free as air and had a perfect right
to adopt any tone he chose to any man who chose,
And Sir Ge desired a service from William Smith. I
was hoping I might be of use to you, said
ser Gehosiphat diplomatically. Well said Smith, that's all right, that is,
But none of your philanthropic dodges, you know, and on
want to lead a new life. And I don't want
to turn over a new leaf, and I don't want
to help in hand. No, none of those things. And
what's more, I don't want a situation. I've got old
the situation as I need. But I never refuse money
or beer. Neither never did. And I'm forty years old
next month. I suppose burgling doesn't pay very well, does it?
Said he boldly ventured. William Smith laughed coarsely. It pays
right enough, said he. But I don't put my money
on the back Governor. I've put it into a bit
of public house property. When I get the chance, it
may pay, said saj. But it is wrong. It is
very anti social, is it? Indeed, Smith returned dryly, anti
social is it? Huh? I've heard it called plenty of
things in my time, but never that. Now I should
have called it quite sociable, lie of making free with
strangers and so on. However, he added, I come across
a cove once, as told me crime was nothing but
a disease and ought to be treated as such. I
asked him for a dozen of port, but he never
sent it, ever, being caught before Sir g inquired, not much,
Smith exclaimed, and this will be a lesson to me.
I can tell you now, what are you getting at, Governor,
Because my time's money, My time is sair g coughed
once more, Sit down, said Sir G. And William Smith
sat down opposite to him at the table and put
his shiny elbows on the table, precisely in the manner
of Sir G's elbows. Well, he cheerfully encouraged Sir G.
How should you like to commit a burglary that was
not a crime, said Sir G, his shifty eyes wandering
around the room, A perfectly lawful burglary. What are you
getting at? William Smith was genuinely astonished at my resident
sneed castle, said G. Proceeded, there's a large portrait of
myself in the dining room that I want to have stolen.
You understand stolen. Yes, I want to get rid of
it and I want people to think that it has
been stolen. Well, why don't you stop it one night
and steal it yourself and then burn it? William Smith
suggested that would be deceitful, said Sir G. Gravely. I
could not tell my friends that the portrait had been stolen.
If it had not been stolen. The burglary must be
entirely genuine. What's the figure, said Smith, curtly. Figure, what
are you going to give me for the job? Give
you for doing the job, said she repeated, His secret
and ineradicable meanness aroused. Give you why I'm giving you
the opportunity to honestly steal a picture that's worth over
a thousand pounds. I des it would be worth two
thousand pounds in America, and you want to be paid
into the bargain. Do you know, my man, that people
come all the way from Manchester and even London to
see that portrait? He told Smith about the painting. Then
why are you in such a steal to be rid
of it? Queried the burglar. That's my affair, said said she.
I don't like it, Lady Dan doesn't like it, but
it's a presentation portrait, and so I can't you'll see,
mister Smith. And how am I going to dispose of it?
When I've got it? Smith demanded, You can't melt a
portrait down as if it were silver. By what you say, Guvnor,
It's known all over the blessed world. Seems to me,
I might just as well try to sell the Nelson column.
Oh nonsense, said Sir G. Nonsense. You'll sell it in
America quite easily. It'll be a fortune to you keep
it for a year first, and then send it to
New York. William Smith shook his head and drummed his
fingers on the table, and then quite suddenly he brightened
and said, all right, Guvnor, I'll take it on, just
to oblige you. When can you do it, asked Sir G,
hardly concealing his joy. Tonight, no, said Smith, mysteriously. I'm
engaged tonight. Well tomorrow night. No, tomorrow, I'm engaged tomorrow too.
You seem to be very much engaged, my man, said,
she observed, what do you expect? Smith retorted, business is business.
I could do it the night after tomorrow, but that's Christmas,
Eve said. She protested, what if it is Christmas? Eve
said Smith coldly. Would you prefer Christmas Day? I'm engaged
on Boxing Day and the day after. Not in the
five towns, I trust, said, She remarked, No, said Smith shortly.
The five Towns is about sook dry. The affair was
arranged for Christmas. Eve now said, She suggested, Shall I
draw your plan of the castle, so that you can
William Smith's face express terrific scorn. Do you suppose, he said,
as I haven't had plans of your castle ever since
it was built. What do you take me for. I'm
not a blooming excursionist. I'm not. I'm a business man,
That's what I am. Sir g was snubbed, and he
agreed submissively to all William Smith's arrangements for the innocent burglary.
He perceived that in William Smith he had stumbled on
a professional of the highest class, and this good fortune
pleased him. There's only one thing that riles me, said
Smith in parting, and that is that you'll go and
say that, after you'd done everything you could for me,
I went and burgled your castle, and you'll talk about
the ingratitude of the lower classes. I know you, guv'nor three.
On the afternoon of the twenty fourth of December, Si
Jehosifat drove home to Sneedcastle from the principle of the
Three Dane Manufactories and found Lady Danes superintending the work
of packing up trunks. He and she were to quit
the castle that afternoon in order to spend Christmas on
the other side of the five towns, under the roof
of their eldest son, John, who had a new house,
a new wife, and a new baby. Male. John was
a domineering person, and being rather proud of his house
and all that was his, he had obstinately decided to
have his own Christmas at his own heart, Grandpapa and Grandmamma,
drawn by the irresistible attraction of that novelty a grandson.
Though Missus John had declined to have the little thing
named Jehosaphat, had yielded to John's solicitations, and the family
gathering for the first time in history, was not to
occur around Sir Gee's mahogany. Sir g very characteristically said
nothing thing to Lady Dane immediately he allowed her to
proceed with the packing of the trunks, and then tea
was served, and the time was approaching for the carriage
to come round to take them to the station, when
at last he suddenly remarked, I shan't be able to
go with you to John's this afternoon. Oh Gee, she exclaimed,
really you are tiresome. Why couldn't you tell me before?
I will come over tomorrow morning. Perhaps in time for church.
He proceeded, ignoring her demand for an explanation. He always
did ignore her demand for an explanation. Indeed, she only
asked for explanations in a mechanical and perfunctory manner. She
had long since ceased to expect them. So G had
been born like that, devious, mysterious, incalculable, and Lady Dane
accepted him as he was. She was somewhat surprised therefore,
when he went on, I have some minutes of committee
meetings that I really must go carefully through wounds send
off tonight. And you know as well as I do,
as there'll be no chance of doing that at John's.
I've telegraphed to John. He was obviously nervous and self conscious.
There's no food in the hearts, sighed Lady Dane, and
the servants are all going away except Calier, and he
can't cook your dinner tonight. I think i'd better stay
myself and look after you. You'll do no such thing,
said sa G decisively. As for my dinner, anything will
do for that. The servants have been promised their holiday
to start from this evening, and they must have it.
I can manage here, spoke the philanthropist with his unshakable
sense of justice. So Lady Dane departed anxious and worry
having previously arranged something cold for Sir G in the
dining room and instructed Kalier about boiling the water for
Sir G's tea on Christmas morning. Callier was the under
coachman and a useful odd man. He it was who
would drive Sir G to the station on Christmas morning
and then guard the castle and the stables thereof during
the absence of the family and the other servants. Callier
slept over the stables, and after Sir G had consumed
his cold repast in the dining room, the other servants
went and Sir Gee was alone in the castle facing
the portrait. He had managed the affair fairly well, he thought. Indeed,
he had a talent for chicane, and none knew it
better than himself. It would have been dangerous if the
servants had been left in the castle. They might have
suffered from insomnia and heard William Smith and into feared
with the operations of William Smith. On the other hand,
Sir G had no intention whatever of leaving the castle
uninhabited to the mercies of William Smith. He felt that
he himself must be on the spot to see that
everything went right and that nothing went wrong. Thus, the
previously arranged scheme for the servant's holiday fitted perfectly into
his plans, and all that he had had to do
was to refuse to leave the castle till the morrow.
It was ideal. Nevertheless, he was a little afraid of
what he had done and of what he was going
to permit William Smith to do. It was certainly dangerous,
certainly rather a wild scheme. However, the die was cast,
and within twelve hours he would be relieved of the
intolerable incubus of the portrait. And when he thought of
the humiliations which that poor had caused him, when he
remembered the remarks of his son's concerning it, especially John's remarks,
when he recalled phrases about it in London newspapers, he
squirmed and told himself that no scheme for getting rid
of it could be too wild and perilous. And after all,
the burglary dodge was the only dodge, absolutely the only
conceivable practical method of disposing of the portrait, except burning
down the castle, and surely it was preferable to a
conflagration to arson. Moreover, in case of fire at the castle,
some blundering fool would be sure to cry the portrait.
The portrait must be saved, and the portrait would be saved.
He gazed at the repulsive, hateful thing in the center
of the lower part of the massive gold frame. Was
the legend presented to Sergeyhoseph that day night as a
mark of public esteem and gratitude, et cetera. He wondered
if William Smith would steal the frame. It was to
be hoped that he would not steal the frame. In fact,
William Smith would find it very difficult to steal that
frame unless he had an accomplice or so. This is
the last time I shall see you, said Sir g
to the portrait. Then he unfastened the catch of one
of the windows in the dining room, as per contract
with William Smith, turned out the electric light and went
to bed in the deserted castle. He went to bed,
but not to sleep. It was no part of Sir
GE's program to sleep. He intended to listen, and he
did listen, and about two o'clock, precisely the hour which
William Smith that indicated. He fancied he heard muffled and
discreet noises. Then he was sure that he heard them.
William Smith had kept his word. Then the noises ceased
for a period, and then they recommenced. Sir Ge restrained
his curiosity as long as he could, and when he
could restrain it no more, he rose and silently opened
his bedroom window and put his head out into the
nipping night air of Christmas. And by good fortune, he
saw the vast oblong of the picture, carefully enveloped in sheets,
being passed by a couple of dark figures through the
dining room window to the garden outside. William Smith had
a colleague then, and he was taking the frame as
well as the canvas. Soir Gee watched the men disappear
down the avenue, and they did not reappear. Sir Gee
returned to bed. Yes, he felt himself equal to facing
it out with his family and friends. He felt himself
equal to pretending that he had no knowledge of the burglary.
Having slept a few hours, he got up early, and
half dressed, descended to the dining room just to see
what sort of a mess William Smith had made the
canvas of the portrait lay flat on the hearth rug,
with the following words written on it in chalk. This
is no use to me. It was the massive gold
frame that had gone further. As was later discovered, all
the silver had gone. Not a spoon was left in
the castle. End of the Christmas Eve burglary by Arnold
Bennett