WASTEFUL AND IMPETUOUS SALE.
There is no position in life in which a man receives so much
distinguished attention as when he is a bankrupt,--a bankrupt,
that is, of celebrity. It seems as though he had then realized the
legitimate ends of trade, and was brought forth in order that those
men might do him honour with whom he had been good enough to have
dealings on a large scale. Robinson was at first cowed when he
was called upon to see men who were now becoming aware that they
would not receive more than 2_s._ 9_d._ in the pound out of all the
hundreds 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 though
a bankruptcy were an excellent joke; and as though he, as one of the
bankrupts, had by far the best of it. These men were about to lose,
or rather had lost, large sums of money; but, nevertheless, they took
it all as a matter of course, and were perfectly good-humoured. No
word of reproach fell from their lips, and when they asked George
Robinson to give them the advantage of his recognized talents in
drawing up the bills for the sale, they put it to him quite as a
favour; and Sloman, the assignee, went so far as to suggest that he
should 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 of
cost; and all that sort of thing."
"Lord bless you!" said Mr. Burrows. "Do you think he doesn't
understand how to do all that better than you can tell him? You'll
draw 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 find
we can generally do 'em at that, if we can only get the people to
come sharp enough." And then, as the evening had fallen upon them,
at their labours, they adjourned to the "Four Swans" opposite, and
Robinson 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 the
goods might be catalogued and prepared for the final sale. The shop
would then be again opened for a week, and, after that, there would
be an end of Brown, Jones, and Robinson. In spite of the good-humour
which was shown by those from whom ill-humour on such an occasion
might have been expected, there was a melancholy about this which was
inexpressible. It has been said that there is nothing so exciting in
trade as a grand final sacrificial sale. But it is like the last act
of a tragedy. It is very good while it lasts, but what is to come
after it? Robinson, as he descended into the darkened shop, and
walked about amidst the lumber that was being dragged forth from
the shelves and drawers, felt that he was like Marius on the ruins
of Carthage. Here had been the scene of his glory! And then he
remembered with what ecstasy he had walked down the shop, when
the crowd without were anxiously inquiring the fate of Johnson of
Manchester. That had been a great triumph! But to what had such
triumphs led him?
The men and women had gone away to their breakfast, and he was
standing there alone, leaning against one of the counters; he heard a
slight noise behind him, and, turning round, saw Mr. Brown, who had
crept down from his own room without assistance. It was the first
time 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 he
might 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 did
look very pretty that day we opened it,--very pretty. The colours
seem to have got dirty now."
"Bright colours will become dull and dirty, Mr. Brown. It's the way
of the world. The brighter they are in their brightness, the more
dull will they look when the tinsel and gloss are gone."
"But we should have painted it again this spring, if we'd stopped
here."
"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 restore
the faded colours to broken hopes and a bankrupt ambition? You see
these arches here which with so light a span bear the burden of the
house above them. So was the span of my heart on that opening day. No
weight of labour then seemed to be too much for me. The arches remain
and will remain; but as for the human heart--"
"Don't, George,--don't. It will kill me if I see you down in the
mouth."
"These will be repainted," continued Robinson, "and other breasts
will glow beneath them with hopes as high as those we felt when you
and the others stood here to welcome the public. But what artist can
ever repaint our aspirations? The soiled columns of these windows
will be regilded, and all here will be bright and young again; but
for 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 no
place now for you." Then he took him by the hand and led him tenderly
to his apartment.
There is something inexpressibly melancholy in the idea of bankruptcy
in trade;--unless, indeed, when it may have been produced by absolute
fraud, and in such a form as to allow of the bankrupts going forth
with their pockets full. But in an ordinary way, I know nothing more
sad than the fate of men who have embarked all in a trade venture and
have failed. It may be, and probably is, the fact, that in almost all
such cases the failure is the fault of the bankrupts; but the fault
is so generally hidden from their own eyes, that they cannot see the
justice of their punishment; and is often so occult in its causes
that the justice cannot be discerned by any without deep scrutiny.
They who have struggled and lost all feel only that they have worked
hard, and worked in vain; that they have thrown away their money and
their energy; and that there is an end, now and for ever, to those
sweet hopes of independence with which they embarked their small
boats upon the wide ocean of commerce. The fate of such men is
very sad. Of course we hear of bankrupts who come forth again with
renewed glories, and who shine all the brighter in consequence of
their temporary obscurity. These are the men who can manage to have
themselves repainted and regilded; but their number is not great. One
hears of such because they are in their way memorable; and one does
not hear of the poor wretches who sink down out of the world--back
behind counters, and to menial work in warehouses. Of ordinary
bankrupts one hears nothing. They are generally men who, having saved
a little with long patience, embark it all and lose it with rapid
impotence. They come forward once in their lives with their little
ventures, and then retire never more to be seen or noticed. Of all
the shops that are opened year after year in London, not above a half
remain in existence for a period of twelve months; and not a half
ever afford a livelihood to those who open them. Is not that a matter
which ought to fill one with melancholy? On the establishment of
every new shop there are the same high hopes,--those very hopes with
which Brown, Jones, and Robinson commenced their career. It is not
that 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 put
by that which will make their old age respectable. Alas! alas! Of
those who thus hope how much the larger proportion are doomed to
disappointment. The little lots of goods that are bought and brought
together with so much pride turn themselves into dust and rubbish.
The gloss and gilding wear away, as they wear away also from the
heart of the adventurer, and then the small aspirant sinks back
into the mass of nothings from whom he had thought to rise. When
one thinks of it, it is very sad; but the sadness is not confined
to commerce. It is the same at the bar, with the army, and in the
Church. We see only the few who rise above the waves, and know
nothing of the many who are drowned beneath the waters.
Perhaps something of all this was in the heart of our friend Robinson
as he placed himself at his desk in his little room. Now, for this
next day or two he would still be somebody in the career of Magenta
House. His services were wanted; and therefore, though he was ruined,
men smiled on him. But how would it be with him when that sale should
be over, and when he would be called upon to leave the premises and
walk forth into the street? He was aware now, though he had never so
thought of himself before, that in the short days of his prosperity
he had taken much upon himself, as the member of a prosperous firm.
It had never then occurred to him that he had given himself airs
because he was Robinson, of the house in Bishopsgate Street; but
now he bethought himself that he had perhaps done so. How would men
treat him when he should no longer be the same Robinson? How had he
condescended to Poppins! how had he domineered at the "Goose and
Gridiron!" how had he patronized those who served him in the shop!
Men remember these things of themselves quite as quickly as others
remember them. Robinson thought of all this now, and almost wished
that those visits to Blackfriars Bridge had not been in vain.
But nevertheless it behoved him to work. He had promised that he
would use his own peculiar skill for the benefit of the creditors,
and therefore, shaking himself as it were out of his despondency, he
buckled himself to his desk. "It is a grand opportunity," he said, as
he thought of the task before him, "but my work will be no longer for
myself 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 his
work.
There was a mine of wealth before him from which to choose. A
tradesman in preparing the ordinary advertisements of his business is
obliged to remember the morrow. He must not risk everything on one
cast of the die. He must be in some degree modest and circumspect,
lest he shut himself out from all possibility of rising to a higher
note on any future opportunity. But in preparing for a final
sacrifice the artist may give the reins to his imagination, and
plunge at once into all the luxuries of the superlative. But to this
pleasure there was one drawback. The thing had been done so often
that superlatives had lost their value, and it had come to pass that
the strongest language sounded impotently in the palled ears of the
public. What idea can, in its own nature, be more harrowing to the
soul than that of a TREMENDOUS SACRIFICE? but what effect would arise
now-a-days from advertising a sale under such a heading? Every little
milliner about Tottenham Court Road has her "Tremendous Sacrifice!"
when she desires to rid her shelves of ends of ribbons and bits of
soiled flowers. No; some other language than this must be devised. A
phraseology not only startling but new must be invented in preparing
the final sale of the house of Brown, Jones, and Robinson.
He threw himself back in his chair, and sat for awhile silent, with
his finger fixed upon his brow. The first words were everything, and
what should be the first words? At last, in a moment, they came to
him, 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 long
as the excitement lasts. "A Solemn Fact!" he repeated to himself; "or
shall I say a Glorious Fact? Glorious would do well for the public
view of the matter; but as it touches the firm, Solemn, perhaps, is
more appropriate. Mother of a Family! Shall I say, also, of every
Father? I should like to include all; but then the fathers never
come, and it would sound loaded." Again he looked at the bill, again
read it, and then proceeded to describe with great accuracy, on a
fly-leaf, the dimensions of the paper to be used, the size of the
different types, and the adaptation of various colours. "That will
do," said he; "I think that will do."
But this which he had now done, though, perhaps, the most important
part of his task, was by no means the most laborious. He had before
him various catalogues of the goods, and it remained for him to affix
the prices, to describe the qualities, and to put down the amount of
each on hand. This was no light task, and he worked hard at it into
the middle of the night. But long before that time came he had thrust
away from him the inefficient lists with which he had been supplied,
and trusted himself wholly to his imagination. So may be seen the
inspired schoolmaster who has beneath his hands the wretched verses
of a dull pupil. For awhile he attempts to reduce to reason and
prosody the futile efforts of the scholar, but anon he lays aside in
disgust the distasteful task, and turning his eyes upwards to the
Muse who has ever been faithful, he dashes off a few genial lines of
warm poetry. The happy juvenile, with wondering pen, copies the work,
and the parent's heart rejoices over the prize which his child has
won. So was it now with Robinson. What could he do with a poor gross
of hose, numbered 7 to 10? or what with a score or two of middling
kids? There were five dozen and nine left of the Katakairions. Was he
to put down such numbers as those in his sacrificial catalogue? For
awhile he kept these entries before him as a guide--as a guide which
in some sort he might follow at a wide distance. But he found that
it was impossible for him to be so guided, even at any distance, and
at last he thrust the poor figures from him altogether and trampled
them under his feet. "Tablecloths, seven dozen and a half, different
sizes." That was the last item he read, and as he pushed it away, the
following 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._ 11½_d._; to
dine sixteen, worth 3_l._ 19_s._ 6_d._, for 19_s._ 9¼_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 this
fashion 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'clock
in the morning, "that, I suppose, is my last day's work in the house
of Brown, Jones, and Robinson. I have worked, not for myself, but
others, and I have worked honestly." Then he went home, and slept as
though 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. Jones
were present. On this occasion the meeting was held in Mr. Brown's
sitting-room, and they were all assembled in order that Robinson
might read over the sale list as he had prepared it. Poor Mr. Brown
sat in a corner of his old sofa, very silent. Now and again, as some
long number or specially magniloquent phrase would strike his ear, he
expressed his surprise by a sort of gasp; but throughout the whole
morning he did not speak a word as to the business on hand. Jones for
the first few minutes attempted to criticize; but the authority of
Mr. Sloman and the burly aspect of Mr. Giles the paper-dealer, were
soon too much for his courage, and he also collapsed into silence.
But the three gentlemen who were most concerned did not show all that
silent acquiescence which George Robinson's painful exertions on
their behalf so richly deserved.
"Impetuous!" said Mr. Sloman. "What does 'impetuous' mean? I never
heard tell before of an impetuous sacrifice. Tremendous is the proper
word, Mr. Robinson."
"Tremendous is not my word," answered Robinson; "and as to the
meaning of impetuous--"
"It sounds well, I think," said Mr. Burrows; and then they went on.
"Broadcast--broadcast!" said Mr. Giles. "That means sowing, don't
it?"
"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 got
through the whole heading; but there was hardly a word which was not
contested. It is all very well for a man to write, when he himself is
the sole judge of what shall be written; but it is a terrible thing
to have to draw up any document for the approval of others. One's
choicest words are torn away, one's figures of speech are maltreated,
one's stops are misunderstood, and one's very syntax is put to
confusion; and then, at last, whole paragraphs are cashiered as
unnecessary. First comes the torture and then the execution. "Come,
Wilkins, you have the pen of a ready writer; prepare for us this
document." In such words is the victim addressed by his colleagues.
Unhappy Wilkins! he little dreams of the misery before him, as he
proudly applies himself to his work.
But it is beautiful to hear and see, when two scribes have been
appointed, how at first they praise each other's words, as did
Trissotin and Vadius; how gradually each objects to this comma
or to that epithet; how from moment to moment their courage will
arise,--till at last every word that the other has written is foul
nonsense and flat blasphemy;--till Vadius at last will defy his
friend in prose and verse, in Greek and Latin.
Robinson on this occasion had no rival, but not the less were his
torments 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 a
little too strong, Mr. Robinson."
This was the end of the catalogue. "Gentlemen," said Robinson, rising
from his chair, "what little I have been able to do for you in this
matter I have done willingly. There is the notice of your sale, drawn
out in such language as seems suitable to me. If it answers your
purpose, I pray that you will use it. If you can frame one that will
do so better, I beg that no regard for my feelings may stand in your
way. My only request to you is this,--that if my words be used, they
may not be changed or garbled." Then, bowing to them all, he left the
room.
They knew the genius of the man, and the notice afterwards appeared
exactly in the form in which Robinson had framed it.