Ebenezer's Dilemma

“If I had the power to remove all London’s wretched low lives and scum, I would. Either one at a time or all at once, it wouldn’t matter to me!” So says Ebenezer Crocket from an overstuffed chair at the gentlemen’s club. His voice echoes off the mahogany paneling and marble floors.

“Oh, come now, Ebenezer,” pipes in Sir Wilfred Williams, III, a well-known assessor at one of London’s best clearing houses. “I believe you make a good deal of money from those poor, underprivileged souls.” IN 1837, and the division between the rich and poor is vast.

“Underprivileged,” Ebenezer spats. “And yes, I make my living by renting them rooms to help them escape the cold. I also offer to reduce their rent if they want to improve the apartment. But no! They think it’s the landlord’s duty to make repairs. I tell you, Sir Williams, that rabble would rather beg, cheat, deceive, and rob than do an honest day’s work. And that’s the truth!”

As the waiter walks by, Ebenezer stops him. “Tell me, boy, has Mr. Hall gone home for the evening?”

“Yes, Sir. I believe he has.”

Ebenezer waves him off, reaches over, and takes what is left of Mr. Hall’s sherry and half-smoked cigar.  Sir Williams barely shakes his head.

“What! Do you disapprove, Sir Williams?  Don’t you believe the teaching of Christ, waste not want not?”

“I see. So you read the Bible, Ebenezer.”

“Yes. And I attend Saint Paul’s Lutheran church every Sunday. I’m a most charitable man, too, for I place a half-penny in the poor box each week.”

“Ahh,” sighs Sir Williams.  Then, in a soft voice,  “Most charitable.”    Sir Williams rises, “Sorry to leave you, Ebenezer, but I have some last-minute paperwork to attend to before I retire for the evening.” He lifts his brandy glass, drains it, nods at Ebenezer, then leaves. 

Ebenezer watches him depart and curls his lips into a sneer. He is well aware that the other members look down on him for the type of tenant houses he keeps. It is not fair that they should think so unkindly of him. Someone must do it. A cynical smile creeps across Ebenezar’s face because he knows that no matter what they believe, he can not be removed from the club’s roster, for he always pays his dues in full. He crushes his cigar and tosses it into Sir Williams’ empty glass.

Ebenezer stares into the crackling fire taking in the ambiance of the club. It has high bookshelves stacked with volumes of nature and science works, most written by other members. Several mounted animal heads from safaris to Africa and India are on the surrounding walls.  Collections of butterflies and stamps are placed on glass-topped tables. It is a most exceptional club indeed.

Ebenezer tosses back the last of the sherry and rises to leave when he hears a rich baritone voice.

“Are we leaving so soon, Mr. Crocket?” Ebenezer narrows his eyes and scans for the speaker.  He finds no one, “I beg your pardon, Sir, for I am at a loss. I don’t recognize your voice. Are you a member here?” From a winged back chair behind Ebenezer, an impeccably dressed man in a black waistcoat, cummerbund, and tie stands up.

“Forgive my rudeness, Mr. Crocket, as I am not only a member but also the founder of this gentleman’s club. May I introduce myself? I am Lord Develin.” He bows slightly.

Ebenezer pales and bows awkwardly in return.

He stammers.  “I-I- It’s a great honor to make your acquaintance, my Lord. Is there anything I might do to be of service?”

“No, not at all,” Develin dismisses the idea with a casual wave of his hand. “I merely thought we might chat by the fire for a moment if you don’t mind?” Develin calls over a man that Ebenezer has noticed standing in the open archway all evening. “Pierce, my good man, would you be so kind as to bring some fine sipping bourbon for Mr. Crocket and I to drink while we talk? Thank you.”

Ebenezer tries not to appear slackjawed as he follows Lord Develin to the settee. As Lord Develin sits, he crosses his legs and flicks away some imaginary piece of fluff from his trousers. “Please, Mr. Crocket, sit,” he says, patting the cushion. Ebenezer gingerly sits on the edge of the settee, dabbing his brow with a linen handkerchief.

“I can’t help but gather from your conversation with Sir Williams that you have a deep resentment for your tenants or the entire group of impoverished people who occupy the docks. Am I correct, Mr. Crocket?” 

Ebenezer stiffens, “ Well, I’ll admit I’m far from fond of them, yes.”

“And am I also correct in assuming that if you had the permission of the law or the blessings of God, you would personally banish every one of them from the face of the earth?”

Ebenezer thinks that perhaps he was being rather harsh when he told this to Sir Williams, but the truth is—“Yes! That is exactly what I would do. I can’t stand the sight of them. They’re filthy and they smell. They have children they can’t care for, but still, they breed like dogs. And if one of them falls down dead in the street, the rest simply walk around him. They are barely human, sub-human at best! I have no use for them and wish to see them gone!”

The servant Pierce returns and sets the two cutglass crystal tumblers of bourbon on the table. The glow of the fire shines amber through the liquor.

Lord Develin leans forward to retrieve his drink while watching Ebenezer from the corner of his eye.

“Are you aware that I collect all manner of things from around the world? Most of the items in this room are from my collections. In addition, I have ceremonial items from Africa, China, and Tibet. Strange and curious things gathered in back alley establishments of exotic, faraway places. I collect magical and mysterious objects like this box I purchased from a man in the jungles of Cambodia.” Leaning back in the settee, Lord Develin extracts a small lacquered box from his cummerbund and places it on the table. Ebenezer‘s eyes widen as he stares at the 2”x 2”x 2” black box.

“This, my friend, is the answer to all your problems,” Lord Develin announces as he slips lose the small hook that holds the lid shut.  Lifting the top, he reveals a black onyx button and pushes the box closer for Ebenezer to examine.

“What is it?” Ebenezer whispers.

Lord Develin smiles. “This is simply known as a wishing box. Allow me to demonstrate. You place it in the palm of your hand like so. Then you make a wish for something or someone you truly desire. It is imperative that it be desired. Once you’ve made your wish, you push the little button here, and whoosh, your wish becomes a reality. Watch.” Lord Develin leans back and closes his eyes. He clears his throat and speaks, “I desire the perfect martini, extra dry.” He then pushes the onyx button, which makes a clicking sound. The air above the table starts to shimmer like the hot air of the desert, followed by a spark of light. Ebenezer cannot hide his amazement.  His mouth hangs open. There on the table sits an excellent martini, olive, and all.

When Ebenezer regains his senses, he stammers, “W-What kind of-of-sorcery is this?”

“To tell you the truth, I don’t know. All I know is I bought it from a man deep in the Cambodian jungle, and it does just as he said it would. So I’m showing it to you, Mr. Crocket, because I feel it can benefit you greatly.”

Knitting his eyebrows together, Ebenezer ponders, “How?”

Lord Develin turns to face Ebenezer.  “I should think it is quite apparent. All you need to do is make a desired wish, and your run-down tenements will be restored to the condition when they were first built! Just imagine all the new tenement houses lining the streets with rich eager people wanting to rent them at a premium price. You will be a landlord extraordinaire! All the other members here will no longer look down on you but see you as their equal!” 

Lord Develin places the gadget back on the table. “Of course, all the people currently living in them will disappear along with the apartments, but what does that matter to you? However, the ones that are living on the streets will remain. Perhaps you can get the authorities to relocate them to some other place. But if you are insistent in, as you say, removing the scum of London in its entirety, you can do that instead. The tenements will remain run down until you can make another wish, but that won’t be for another year, as you can only make one wish a year. However, I’m unsure if your funds would last that long.” Lord Develin pauses to take a sip of his drink as he studies Ebenezer’s reactions. 

“At this point, I would like to bring one Miss Lillian Plant into the discussion.”

Ebenezer leans forward and bristles, “What has she to do with it?”

Lord Develin raises one hand. “It’s just that I know you seem to show a fondness toward her. I believe it is because she reminds you of your own sweet mother. Her plight is the same; her abusive boyfriend beats her and spends all the money on himself. I believe he’s finally left her and his son to fend for themselves.

 Ebenezer blusters, “How do you know of these things, and what right do you have to pry into other people’s business?”

 “Please, Mr. Crocket, pry is such a harsh word. I prefer “assist”. I have my staff follow members of my club to monitor them to determine if they are experiencing any financial difficulty or emotional upset that has become a burden to them. I then take them aside, as I am doing with you now, and try to help them back on the road to happiness. The thing here is your fondness for Miss Plant and her child.  No matter your choice, you’ll lose them either way.

 I’ll leave you with your thoughts. Pierce will retrieve the wishing box when you’re through. I bid you a good evening and good luck, Mr. Crocket.” Ebenezer struggles to stand, but Lord Develin waves him off and leaves.

Left alone, Ebenezer thinks back to what Lord Develin has said. It seems he truly is fond of Miss Plant because she reminds him so much of his own past. His father left him when he was nine months old. His mother struggled to get by but always kept a positive attitude toward life. Over the years, she taught Ebenezer to be kind toward others, never look down on people less fortunate than themselves, and never think that they are better than anyone, no matter how great, or small they are, for we are all creatures of God’s love. Unfortunately, Ebenezer’s mother died very young of tuberculosis, leaving Ebenezer bitter and heartbroken. He was taken in by some distant relatives who lived in these same apartments. They used him to make money for them by forcing him to work in sweatshops and begging on the streets. Eventually, his opinion toward people and his mother’s teaching faded, and when he turned sixteen, he ran away. Ebenezer learned how to survive in the dark underbelly of London. He accumulated enough money to buy his first apartment house.   The rest is history.

The problem now is Miss Plant. Though he would most desire to banish all the bums and vagrants, he has no desire to eliminate her. She works out of his apartment for slave wages, making matchboxes by hand. She has to produce at least one hundred and fifty of them before she is paid two cents. This means she has to work from dawn until the wee hours of the following day, sometimes getting no more than a few hours of sleep. Even though Ebenezer reduced her rent after her boyfriend left, most of her money still goes toward paying him.

The fire has long since been reduced to embers, and Ebenezer is no closer to a decision. Instead, he leans forward, places his elbows on his knees, interlaces his fingers, and prays.”O’ dear mother, if only you were here. With your kind heart, you could instruct me in what I should do.” Tears fall from his eyes when he hears his mother’s sweet voice say, “Ebenezer, my son, follow your heart.”

” Of course, Mother, that is what I should have been doing all along.” Wiping the tears from his cheeks, he adds,” The thing is, I have no heart!” And with that, Ebenezer takes the small black box and places it in the palm of his hand.