Cousin Teresa

by H.H. Munro (SAKI)

　　

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Basset Harrowcluff returned to the home of hisfathers, after an absence of four years, distinctly wellpleased with himself. He was only thirty-one, but he hadput in some useful service in an out-of-the-way, thoughnot unimportant, corner of the world. He had quieted aprovince, kept open a trade route, enforced the traditionof respect which is worth the ransom of many kings inout-of-the-way regions, and done the whole business onrather less expenditure than would be requisite fororganising a charity in the home country. In Whitehalland places where they think, they doubtless thought wellof him. It was not inconceivable, his father allowedhimself to imagine, that Basset's name might figure inthe next list of Honours.Basset was inclined to be rather contemptuous of hishalf-brother, Lucas, whom he found feverishly engrossedin the same medley of elaborate futilities that hadclaimed his whole time and energies, such as they were,four years ago, and almost as far back before that as hecould remember. It was the contempt of the man of actionfor the man of activities, and it was probablyreciprocated. Lucas was an over-well nourishedindividual, some nine years Basset's senior, with acolouring that would have been accepted as a sign ofintensive culture in an asparagus, but probably meant inthis case mere abstention from exercise. His hair andforehead furnished a recessional note in a personalitythat was in all other respects obtrusive and assertive.There was certainly no Semitic blood in Lucas'sparentage, but his appearance contrived to convey atleast a suggestion of Jewish extraction. ClovisSangrail, who knew most of his associates by sight, saidit was undoubtedly a case of protective mimicry.Two days after Basset's return, Lucas frisked in tolunch in a state of twittering excitement that could notbe restrained even for the immediate consideration ofsoup, but had to be verbally discharged in splutteringcompetition with mouthfuls of vermicelli."I've got hold of an idea for something immense," hebabbled, "something that is simply It."Basset gave a short laugh that would have doneequally well as a snort, if one had wanted to make theexchange. His half-brother was in the habit ofdiscovering futilities that were "simply It" atfrequently recurring intervals. The discovery generallymeant that he flew up to town, preceded by glowingly-worded telegrams, to see some one connected with thestage or the publishing world, got together one or twomomentous luncheon parties, flitted in and out of"Gambrinus" for one or two evenings, and returned homewith an air of subdued importance and the asparagus tintslightly intensified. The great idea was generallyforgotten a few weeks later in the excitement of some newdiscovery."The inspiration came to me whilst I was dressing,"announced Lucas; "it will be the thing in the next music-hall Revue. All London will go mad over it. It's just acouplet; of course there will be other words, but theywon't matter. Listen:Cousin Teresa takes out Caesar,Fido, Jock, and the big borzoi.A lifting, catchy sort of refrain, you see, and big-drum business on the two syllables of bor-zoi. It'simmense. And I've thought out all the business of it;the singer will sing the first verse alone, then duringthe second verse Cousin Teresa will walk through,followed by four wooden dogs on wheels; Caesar will be anIrish terrier, Fido a black poodle, Jock a fox-terrier,and the borzoi, of course, will be a borzoi. During thethird verse Cousin Teresa will come on alone, and thedogs will be drawn across by themselves from the oppositewing; then Cousin Teresa will catch on to the singer andgo off-stage in one direction, while the dogs' processiongoes off in the other, crossing en route, which is alwaysvery effective. There'll be a lot of applause there, andfor the fourth verse Cousin Teresa will come on in sablesand the dogs will all have coats on. Then I've got agreat idea for the fifth verse; each of the dogs will beled on by a Nut, and Cousin Teresa will come on from theopposite side, crossing en route, always effective, andthen she turns round and leads the whole lot of them offon a string, and all the time every one singing like mad:Cousin Teresa takes out CaesarFido, Jock, and the big borzoi.Tum-Tum! Drum business on the two last syllables.I'm so excited, I shan't sleep a wink to-night. I'm offto-morrow by the ten-fifteen. I've wired to Hermanova tolunch with me."If any of the rest of the family felt any excitementover the creation of Cousin Teresa, they were signallysuccessful in concealing the fact."Poor Lucas does take his silly little ideasseriously," said Colonel Harrowcluff afterwards in thesmoking-room."Yes," said his younger son, in a slightly lesstolerant tone, "in a day or two he'll come back and tellus that his sensational masterpiece is above the heads ofthe public, and in about three weeks' time he'll be wildwith enthusiasm over a scheme to dramatise the poems ofHerrick or something equally promising."And then an extraordinary thing befell. In defianceof all precedent Lucas's glowing anticipations werejustified and endorsed by the course of events. IfCousin Teresa was above the heads of the public, thepublic heroically adapted itself to her altitude.Introduced as an experiment at a dull moment in a newRevue, the success of the item was unmistakable; thecalls were so insistent and uproarious that even Lucas'ample devisings of additional "business" scarcelysufficed to keep pace with the demand. Packed houses onsuccessive evenings confirmed the verdict of the firstnight audience, stalls and boxes filled significantlyjust before the turn came on, and emptied significantlyafter the last encore had been given. The managertearfully acknowledged that Cousin Teresa was It. Stagehands and supers and programme sellers acknowledged it toone another without the least reservation. The name ofthe Revue dwindled to secondary importance, and vastletters of electric blue blazoned the words "CousinTeresa" from the front of the great palace of pleasure.And, of course, the magic of the famous refrain laid itsspell all over the Metropolis. Restaurant proprietorswere obliged to provide the members of their orchestraswith painted wooden dogs on wheels, in order that themuch-demanded and always conceded melody should berendered with the necessary spectacular effects, and thecrash of bottles and forks on the tables at the mentionof the big borzoi usually drowned the sincerest effortsof drum or cymbals. Nowhere and at no time could one getaway from the double thump that brought up the rear ofthe refrain; revellers reeling home at night banged it ondoors and hoardings, milkmen clashed their cans to itscadence, messenger boys hit smaller messenger boysresounding double smacks on the same principle. And themore thoughtful circles of the great city were not deafto the claims and significance of the popular melody. Anenterprising and emancipated preacher discoursed from hispulpit on the inner meaning of "Cousin Teresa," and LucasHarrowcluff was invited to lecture on the subject of hisgreat achievement to members of the Young Mens' EndeavourLeague, the Nine Arts Club, and other learned andwilling-to-learn bodies. In Society it seemed to be theone thing people really cared to talk about; men andwomen of middle age and average education might be seentogether in corners earnestly discussing, not thequestion whether Servia should have an outlet on theAdriatic, or the possibilities of a British success ininternational polo contests, but the more absorbing topicof the problematic Aztec or Nilotic origin of the TeresaMotiv."Politics and patriotism are so boring and so out ofdate," said a revered lady who had some pretensions tooracular utterance; "we are too cosmopolitan nowadays tobe really moved by them. That is why one welcomes anintelligible production like 'Cousin Teresa,' that has agenuine message for one. One can't understand themessage all at once, of course, but one felt from thevery first that it was there. I've been to see iteighteen times and I'm going again to-morrow and onThursday. One can't see it often enough."* * * *"It would be rather a popular move if we gave thisHarrowcluff person a knighthood or something of thesort," said the Minister reflectively."Which Harrowcluff?"asked his secretary."Which? There is only one, isn't there?" said theMinister; "the 'Cousin Teresa' man, of course. I thinkevery one would be pleased if we knighted him. Yes, youcan put him down on the list of certainties - under theletter L.""The letter L," said the secretary, who was new tohis job; "does that stand for Liberalism or liberality?"Most of the recipients of Ministerial favour wereexpected to qualify in both of those subjects."Literature," explained the Minister.And thus, after a fashion, Colonel Harrowcluff'sexpectation of seeing his son's name in the list ofHonours was gratified.

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