The Struggles of Brown, Jones, and Robinson

  CHAPTER XXII.

  WASTEFUL AND IMPETUOUS SALE.

  There is no position in life in which a man receives so muchdistinguished attention as when he is a bankrupt,--a bankrupt,that is, of celebrity. It seems as though he had then realized thelegitimate ends of trade, and was brought forth in order that thosemen might do him honour with whom he had been good enough to havedealings on a large scale. Robinson was at first cowed when hewas called upon to see men who were now becoming aware that theywould not receive more than 2_s._ 9_d._ in the pound out of all thehundreds that were owed to them. But this feeling very soon wore off,and he found himself laughing and talking with Giles the stationer,and Burrows the printer, and Sloman the official assignee, as thougha bankruptcy were an excellent joke; and as though he, as one of thebankrupts, had by far the best of it. These men were about to lose,or rather had lost, large sums of money; but, nevertheless, they tookit all as a matter of course, and were perfectly good-humoured. Noword of reproach fell from their lips, and when they asked GeorgeRobinson to give them the advantage of his recognized talents indrawing up the bills for the sale, they put it to him quite as afavour; and Sloman, the assignee, went so far as to suggest that heshould be remunerated for his work.

  "If I can only be of any service to you," said Robinson, modestly.

  "Of the greatest service," said Mr. Giles. "A tremendous sacrifice,you know,--enormous liabilities,--unreserved sale,--regardless ofcost; and all that sort of thing."

  "Lord bless you!" said Mr. Burrows. "Do you think he doesn'tunderstand how to do all that better than you can tell him? You'lldraw out the headings of the posters; won't you, Mr. Robinson?"

  "And put the numbers and figures into the catalogue," suggested Mr.Sloman. "The best way is to put 'em down at about cost price. We findwe can generally do 'em at that, if we can only get the people tocome sharp enough." And then, as the evening had fallen upon them,at their labours, they adjourned to the "Four Swans" opposite, andRobinson was treated to his supper at the expense of his victims.

  On the next day the house was closed. This was done in order that thegoods might be catalogued and prepared for the final sale. The shopwould then be again opened for a week, and, after that, there wouldbe an end of Brown, Jones, and Robinson. In spite of the good-humourwhich was shown by those from whom ill-humour on such an occasionmight have been expected, there was a melancholy about this which wasinexpressible. It has been said that there is nothing so exciting intrade as a grand final sacrificial sale. But it is like the last actof a tragedy. It is very good while it lasts, but what is to comeafter it? Robinson, as he descended into the darkened shop, andwalked about amidst the lumber that was being dragged forth fromthe shelves and drawers, felt that he was like Marius on the ruinsof Carthage. Here had been the scene of his glory! And then heremembered with what ecstasy he had walked down the shop, whenthe crowd without were anxiously inquiring the fate of Johnson ofManchester. That had been a great triumph! But to what had suchtriumphs led him?

  The men and women had gone away to their breakfast, and he wasstanding there alone, leaning against one of the counters; he heard aslight noise behind him, and, turning round, saw Mr. Brown, who hadcrept down from his own room without assistance. It was the firsttime since his illness that he had left the floor on which he lived,and it had been intended that he should never go into the shop again."Oh, Mr. Brown, is this prudent?" said he, going up to him that hemight give him the assistance of his arm.

  "I wished to see it all once more, George."

  "There it is, then. There isn't much to see."

  "But a deal to feel; isn't there, George?--a deal to feel! It didlook very pretty that day we opened it,--very pretty. The coloursseem to have got dirty now."

  "Bright colours will become dull and dirty, Mr. Brown. It's the wayof the world. The brighter they are in their brightness, the moredull will they look when the tinsel and gloss are gone."

  "But we should have painted it again this spring, if we'd stoppedhere."

  "There are things, Mr. Brown, which one cannot paint again."

  "Iron and wood you can, or anything of the like of that."

  "Yes, Mr. Brown; you may repaint iron and wood; but who can restorethe faded colours to broken hopes and a bankrupt ambition? You seethese arches here which with so light a span bear the burden of thehouse above them. So was the span of my heart on that opening day. Noweight of labour then seemed to be too much for me. The arches remainand will remain; but as for the human heart--"

  "Don't, George,--don't. It will kill me if I see you down in themouth."

  "These will be repainted," continued Robinson, "and other breastswill glow beneath them with hopes as high as those we felt when youand the others stood here to welcome the public. But what artist canever repaint our aspirations? The soiled columns of these windowswill be regilded, and all here will be bright and young again; butfor man, when he loses his glory, there is no regilding. Come, Mr.Brown, we will go upstairs. They will be here soon, and this is noplace now for you." Then he took him by the hand and led him tenderlyto his apartment.

  There is something inexpressibly melancholy in the idea of bankruptcyin trade;--unless, indeed, when it may have been produced by absolutefraud, and in such a form as to allow of the bankrupts going forthwith their pockets full. But in an ordinary way, I know nothing moresad than the fate of men who have embarked all in a trade venture andhave failed. It may be, and probably is, the fact, that in almost allsuch cases the failure is the fault of the bankrupts; but the faultis so generally hidden from their own eyes, that they cannot see thejustice of their punishment; and is often so occult in its causesthat the justice cannot be discerned by any without deep scrutiny.They who have struggled and lost all feel only that they have workedhard, and worked in vain; that they have thrown away their money andtheir energy; and that there is an end, now and for ever, to thosesweet hopes of independence with which they embarked their smallboats upon the wide ocean of commerce. The fate of such men isvery sad. Of course we hear of bankrupts who come forth again withrenewed glories, and who shine all the brighter in consequence oftheir temporary obscurity. These are the men who can manage to havethemselves repainted and regilded; but their number is not great. Onehears of such because they are in their way memorable; and one doesnot hear of the poor wretches who sink down out of the world--backbehind counters, and to menial work in warehouses. Of ordinarybankrupts one hears nothing. They are generally men who, having saveda little with long patience, embark it all and lose it with rapidimpotence. They come forward once in their lives with their littleventures, and then retire never more to be seen or noticed. Of allthe shops that are opened year after year in London, not above a halfremain in existence for a period of twelve months; and not a halfever afford a livelihood to those who open them. Is not that a matterwhich ought to fill one with melancholy? On the establishment ofevery new shop there are the same high hopes,--those very hopes withwhich Brown, Jones, and Robinson commenced their career. It is notthat all expect to shine forth upon the world as merchant princes,but all do expect to live upon the fruit of their labour and to putby that which will make their old age respectable. Alas! alas! Ofthose who thus hope how much the larger proportion are doomed todisappointment. The little lots of goods that are bought and broughttogether with so much pride turn themselves into dust and rubbish.The gloss and gilding wear away, as they wear away also from theheart of the adventurer, and then the small aspirant sinks backinto the mass of nothings from whom he had thought to rise. Whenone thinks of it, it is very sad; but the sadness is not confinedto commerce. It is the same at the bar, with the army, and in theChurch. We see only the few who rise above the waves, and knownothing of the many who are drowned beneath the waters.

  Perhaps something of all this was in the heart of our friend Robinsonas he placed himself at his desk in his little room. Now, for thisnext day or two he would still be somebody in the career of MagentaHouse. His services were wanted; and therefore, though he was ruined
,men smiled on him. But how would it be with him when that sale shouldbe over, and when he would be called upon to leave the premises andwalk forth into the street? He was aware now, though he had never sothought of himself before, that in the short days of his prosperityhe had taken much upon himself, as the member of a prosperous firm.It had never then occurred to him that he had given himself airsbecause he was Robinson, of the house in Bishopsgate Street; butnow he bethought himself that he had perhaps done so. How would mentreat him when he should no longer be the same Robinson? How had hecondescended to Poppins! how had he domineered at the "Goose andGridiron!" how had he patronized those who served him in the shop!Men remember these things of themselves quite as quickly as othersremember them. Robinson thought of all this now, and almost wishedthat those visits to Blackfriars Bridge had not been in vain.

  But nevertheless it behoved him to work. He had promised that hewould use his own peculiar skill for the benefit of the creditors,and therefore, shaking himself as it were out of his despondency, hebuckled himself to his desk. "It is a grand opportunity," he said, ashe thought of the task before him, "but my work will be no longer formyself and partners.

  The lofty rhyme I still must make, Though other hands shall touch the money. So do the bees for others' sake Fill their waxen combs with honey."

  Then, when he had thus solaced himself with verse, he sat down to hiswork.

  There was a mine of wealth before him from which to choose. Atradesman in preparing the ordinary advertisements of his business isobliged to remember the morrow. He must not risk everything on onecast of the die. He must be in some degree modest and circumspect,lest he shut himself out from all possibility of rising to a highernote on any future opportunity. But in preparing for a finalsacrifice the artist may give the reins to his imagination, andplunge at once into all the luxuries of the superlative. But to thispleasure there was one drawback. The thing had been done so oftenthat superlatives had lost their value, and it had come to pass thatthe strongest language sounded impotently in the palled ears of thepublic. What idea can, in its own nature, be more harrowing to thesoul than that of a TREMENDOUS SACRIFICE? but what effect would arisenow-a-days from advertising a sale under such a heading? Every littlemilliner about Tottenham Court Road has her "Tremendous Sacrifice!"when she desires to rid her shelves of ends of ribbons and bits ofsoiled flowers. No; some other language than this must be devised. Aphraseology not only startling but new must be invented in preparingthe final sale of the house of Brown, Jones, and Robinson.

  He threw himself back in his chair, and sat for awhile silent, withhis finger fixed upon his brow. The first words were everything, andwhat should be the first words? At last, in a moment, they came tohim, and he wrote as follows:--

  RUIN! RUIN!! RUIN!!!

  WASTEFUL AND IMPETUOUS SALE.

  At Magenta House, 81, Bishopsgate Street, on March the 5th, and three following days, the Stock in Trade of the bankrupts, Brown, Jones, and Robinson, valued at 209,657_l._ 15_s._ 3_d._, will be thrown broadcast before the public at the frightful reduction of 75 per Cent. on the cost price.

  To acquire the impetus and force necessary for the realization of so vast a property, all goods are quoted for TRUE, HONEST, BONA-FIDE SALE at One-Quarter the Cost Price.

  This is a Solemn Fact, and one which well merits the earnest attention of every mother of a family in England. The goods are of the first class. And as no attempt in trade has ever hitherto been made of equal magnitude to that of the bankrupts', it may with absolute truth be said that no such opportunity as this has ever yet been afforded to the public of supplying themselves with the richest articles of luxury at prices which are all but nominal. How will any lady hereafter forgive herself, who shall fail to profit by such an opportunity as this?

  Such was the heading of his bills, and he read and re-read the words,not without a glow of pleasure. One can be in love with ruin so longas the excitement lasts. "A Solemn Fact!" he repeated to himself; "orshall I say a Glorious Fact? Glorious would do well for the publicview of the matter; but as it touches the firm, Solemn, perhaps, ismore appropriate. Mother of a Family! Shall I say, also, of everyFather? I should like to include all; but then the fathers nevercome, and it would sound loaded." Again he looked at the bill, againread it, and then proceeded to describe with great accuracy, on afly-leaf, the dimensions of the paper to be used, the size of thedifferent types, and the adaptation of various colours. "That willdo," said he; "I think that will do."

  But this which he had now done, though, perhaps, the most importantpart of his task, was by no means the most laborious. He had beforehim various catalogues of the goods, and it remained for him to affixthe prices, to describe the qualities, and to put down the amount ofeach on hand. This was no light task, and he worked hard at it intothe middle of the night. But long before that time came he had thrustaway from him the inefficient lists with which he had been supplied,and trusted himself wholly to his imagination. So may be seen theinspired schoolmaster who has beneath his hands the wretched versesof a dull pupil. For awhile he attempts to reduce to reason andprosody the futile efforts of the scholar, but anon he lays aside indisgust the distasteful task, and turning his eyes upwards to theMuse who has ever been faithful, he dashes off a few genial lines ofwarm poetry. The happy juvenile, with wondering pen, copies the work,and the parent's heart rejoices over the prize which his child haswon. So was it now with Robinson. What could he do with a poor grossof hose, numbered 7 to 10? or what with a score or two of middlingkids? There were five dozen and nine left of the Katakairions. Was heto put down such numbers as those in his sacrificial catalogue? Forawhile he kept these entries before him as a guide--as a guide whichin some sort he might follow at a wide distance. But he found thatit was impossible for him to be so guided, even at any distance, andat last he thrust the poor figures from him altogether and trampledthem under his feet. "Tablecloths, seven dozen and a half, differentsizes." That was the last item he read, and as he pushed it away, thefollowing were the words which his fertile pen produced:--

  The renowned Flemish Treble Table Damasks, of argentine brightness and snow-like purity, with designs of absolute grandeur and artistic perfection of outline. To dine eight persons, worth 1_l,_ 8_s._ 6_d._, for 7_s._ 3_d._; to dine twelve, worth 1_l._ 18_s._ 6_d._, for 10_s._ 11-1/2_d._; to dine sixteen, worth 3_l._ 19_s._ 6_d._, for 19_s._ 9-1/4_d._; and so on, at the same rate, to any size which the epicurean habits of this convivial age can possibly require.

  Space will not permit us here to give the bill entire, but after thisfashion was it framed. And then the final note was as follows:--

  N.B.--Many tons weight of First-Class Table Damasks and Sheetings, soiled but not otherwise impaired; also of Ribbons, Gloves, Hose, Shirts, Crinolines, Paletots, Mantles, Shawls, Prints, Towels, Blankets, Quilts, and Flouncings, will be sold on the first two days at BUYERS' OWN PRICES.

  "There," said he, as he closed down his ink-bottle at three o'clockin the morning, "that, I suppose, is my last day's work in the houseof Brown, Jones, and Robinson. I have worked, not for myself, butothers, and I have worked honestly." Then he went home, and slept asthough he had no trouble on his mind.

  On the following morning he again was there, and Messrs. Giles,Burrows, and Sloman attended with him. Mr. Brown, also, and Mr. Joneswere present. On this occasion the meeting was held in Mr. Brown'ssitting-room, and they were all assembled in order that Robinsonmight read over the sale list as he had prepared it. Poor Mr. Brownsat in a corner of his old sofa, very silent. Now and again, as somelong number or specially magniloquent phrase would strike his ear, heexpressed his surprise by a sort of gasp; but throughout the wholemorning he did not speak a word as to the business on hand. Jones forthe first few minutes attempted to criticize; but the authority ofMr. Sloman and the burly aspect of Mr. Giles the paper-dealer, weresoon too much for his courage, and he also collapsed into silence.But the three gentlemen wh
o were most concerned did not show all thatsilent acquiescence which George Robinson's painful exertions ontheir behalf so richly deserved.

  "Impetuous!" said Mr. Sloman. "What does 'impetuous' mean? I neverheard tell before of an impetuous sacrifice. Tremendous is the properword, Mr. Robinson."

  "Tremendous is not my word," answered Robinson; "and as to themeaning of impetuous--"

  "It sounds well, I think," said Mr. Burrows; and then they went on.

  "Broadcast--broadcast!" said Mr. Giles. "That means sowing, don'tit?"

  "Exactly," said Robinson. "Have not I sown, and are not you to reap?If you will allow me I will go on." He did go on, and by degrees gotthrough the whole heading; but there was hardly a word which was notcontested. It is all very well for a man to write, when he himself isthe sole judge of what shall be written; but it is a terrible thingto have to draw up any document for the approval of others. One'schoicest words are torn away, one's figures of speech are maltreated,one's stops are misunderstood, and one's very syntax is put toconfusion; and then, at last, whole paragraphs are cashiered asunnecessary. First comes the torture and then the execution. "Come,Wilkins, you have the pen of a ready writer; prepare for us thisdocument." In such words is the victim addressed by his colleagues.Unhappy Wilkins! he little dreams of the misery before him, as heproudly applies himself to his work.

  But it is beautiful to hear and see, when two scribes have beenappointed, how at first they praise each other's words, as didTrissotin and Vadius; how gradually each objects to this commaor to that epithet; how from moment to moment their courage willarise,--till at last every word that the other has written is foulnonsense and flat blasphemy;--till Vadius at last will defy hisfriend in prose and verse, in Greek and Latin.

  Robinson on this occasion had no rival, but not the less were historments very great. "Argentine brightness!" said Mr. Giles. "What's'argentine?' I don't like 'argentine.' You'd better put that out, Mr.Robinson."

  "It's the most effective word in the whole notice," said Robinson,and then he passed on.

  "Tons weight of towelling!" said Mr. Sloman. "That's coming it alittle too strong, Mr. Robinson."

  This was the end of the catalogue. "Gentlemen," said Robinson, risingfrom his chair, "what little I have been able to do for you in thismatter I have done willingly. There is the notice of your sale, drawnout in such language as seems suitable to me. If it answers yourpurpose, I pray that you will use it. If you can frame one that willdo so better, I beg that no regard for my feelings may stand in yourway. My only request to you is this,--that if my words be used, theymay not be changed or garbled." Then, bowing to them all, he left theroom.

  They knew the genius of the man, and the notice afterwards appearedexactly in the form in which Robinson had framed it.