Chapter LX
Good phrases are surely, and ever were, very commendable.
Justice Shallow.
A few days afterwards — it was already the end of August
— there was an occasion which caused some excitement in
Middlemarch: the public, if it chose, was to have the
advantage of buying, under the distinguished auspices of Mr.
Borthrop Trumbull, the furniture, books, and pictures which
anybody might see by the handbills to be the best in every
kind, belonging to Edwin Larcher, Esq. This was not one of
the sales indicating the depression of trade; on the
contrary,
it was due to Mr. Larcher's great success in the carrying
business, which warranted his purchase of a mansion near
Riverston already furnished in high style by an illustrious
Spa
physician — furnished indeed with such large
framefuls of expensive flesh-painting in the dining-room,
that Mrs. Larcher was nervous until reassured by finding the
subjects to be Scriptural. Hence the fine opportunity to
purchasers which was well pointed out in the handbills of
Mr. Borthrop Trumbull, whose acquaintance with the history
of art enabled him to state that the hall furniture, to be
sold without reserve, comprised a piece of carving by a
contemporary of Gibbons.
At Middlemarch in those times a large sale was regarded
as a kind of festival. There was a table spread with the
best cold eatables, as at a superior funeral; and facilities
were offered for that generous-drinking of cheerful glasses
which might lead to generous and cheerful bidding for
undesirable articles. Mr. Larcher's sale was the more
attractive in the fine weather because the house stood just
at the end of the town, with a garden and stables attached,
in that pleasant issue from Middlemarch called the London
Road, which was also the road to the New Hospital and to Mr.
Bulstrode's retired residence, known as the Shrubs. In
short, the auction was as good as a fair, and drew all
classes with leisure at command: to some, who risked making
bids in order simply to raise prices, it was almost equal to
betting at the races. The second day, when the best
furniture was to be sold, "everybody" was there; even Mr.
Thesiger, the rector of St. Peter's, had looked in for a
short time, wishing to buy the carved table, and had rubbed
elbows with Mr. Bambridge and Mr. Horrock. There was a
wreath of Middlemarch ladies accommodated with seats round
the large table in the dining-room, where ML Borthrop
Trumbull was mounted with desk and hammer; but the rows
chiefly of masculine faces behind were often varied by
incomings and outgoings both from the door and the large
bow-window opening on to the lawn.
"Everybody " that day did not include Mr. Bulstrode,
whose health could not well endure crowds and draughts. But
Mrs. Bulstrode had particularly wished to have a certain
picture — a " Supper at Emmaus," attributed in the catalogue
to Guido; and at the last moment before the day of the sale
Mr. Bulstrode had called at the office of the " Pioneer," of
which he was now
one of the proprietors, to beg of Mr.
Ladislaw as a great favor that he would obligingly use his
remarkable knowledge of pictures on behalf of Mrs.
Bulstrode, and judge of the value of this particular
painting — "if," added the scrupulously polite banker,
"attendance at the sale would not interfere with the
arrangements for your departure, which I know is imminent."
This proviso might have sounded rather satirically in
Will's ear if he had been in a mood to care about such
satire. It referred to an understanding entered into many
weeks before with the proprietors of the paper, that he
should be at liberty any day he pleased to hand over the
management to the subeditor whom he had been training; since
he wished finally to quit Middlemarch. But indefinite
visions of ambition are weak against the ease of doing what
is habitual or beguilingly agreeable; and we all know the
difficulty of carrying out a resolve when we secretly long
that it may turn out to be unnecessary. In such states of
mind the most incredulous person has a private leaning
towards miracle: impossible to conceive how our wish could
be fulfilled, still — very wonderful things have happened!
Will did not confess this weakness to himself, but he
lingered. What was the use of going to London at that time
of the year? The Rugby men who would remember him were not
there; and so far as political writing was concerned, he
would rather for a few weeks go on with the,"Pioneer." At
the present moment, however, when Mr. Bulstrode was speaking
to him, he had both a strengthened resolve to go and an
equally strong resolve not to go till he had once more seen
Dorothea. Hence he replied that he had reasons for
deferring his departure a little, and would be happy to go
to the sale.
Will was in a defiant mood, his consciousness being
deeply stung with the thought that the people who looked at
him probably knew a fact tantamount to an accusation against
him as a fellow with low designs which were to be frustrated
by a disposal of property. Like most people who assert
their freedom with regard to conventional distinction, he
was prepared to be sudden and quick at quarrel with any one
who might
hint that he had personal reasons for that assertion — that
there was anything in his blood, his bearing, or his
character to which he gave the mask of an opinion. When he
was under an irritating impression of this kind he would go
about for days with a defiant look, the color changing in
his transparent skin as if he were on the
qui vive,
watching for something which he had to dart upon.
This expression was peculiarly noticeable in him at the
sale, and those who had only seen him in his moods of gentle
oddity or of bright enjoyment would have been struck with a
contrast. He was not sorry to have this occasion for
appearing in public before the Middlemarch tribes of Toller,
Hackbutt, and the rest, who looked down on him as an
adventurer, and were in a state of brutal ignorance about
Dante — who sneered at his Polish blood, and were themselves
of a breed very much in need of crossing. He stood in a
conspicuous place not far from the auctioneer, with a
forefinger in each side-pocket and his head thrown backward,
not caring to speak to anybody, though he had been cordially
welcomed as a connoiss ure by Mr. Trumbull, who was
enjoying the utmost activity of his great faculties.
And surely among all men whose vocation requires them to
exhibit their powers of speech, the happiest is a prosperous
provincial auctioneer keenly alive to his own jokes and
sensible of his encyclopedic knowledge. Some saturnine,
sour-blooded persons might object to be constantly insisting
on the merits of all articles from boot-jacks to " Berghems;
" but Mr. Borthrop Trumbull had a kindly liquid in his
veins; he was an admirer by nature, and would have liked to
have the universe under his hammer, feeling that it would go
at a higher figure for his recommendation.
Meanwhile Mrs. Larcher's drawing-room furniture was
enough for him. When Will Ladislaw had come in, a second
fender, said to have been forgotten in its right place,
suddenly claimed the auctioneer's enthusiasm, which he
distributed on the equitable principle of praising those
things most which were most in need of praise The fender was
of polished steel, with much lancet-shaped open-work and a
sharp edge
"Now, ladies," said he, "I shall appeal to you. Here is
a
fender which at any other sale would hardly be
offered with out reserve, being, as I may say, for quality
of steel and quaintness of design, a kind of thing" — here
Mr. Trumbull dropped his voice and became slightly nasal,
trimming his outlines with his left finger — " that might not
fall in with ordinary tastes. Allow me to tell you that by-and-by this style of workmanship will be the only one in
vogue — half-a-crown, you said? thank you — going at half-a-crown, this characteristic fender; and I have particular
information that the antique style is very much sought after
in high quarters. Three shillings — three-and-sixpence — hold
it well up, Joseph! Look, ladies, at the chastity of the
design — I have no doubt myself that it was turned out in the
last century! Four shillings, Mr. Mawmsey? — four
shillings."
"It's not a thing I would put in my drawing-room,"
said Mrs. Mawmsey, audibly, for the warning of the rash
husband. " I wonder at Mrs. Larcher. Every blessed
child's head that fell against it would be cut in two. The
edge is like a knife."
"Quite true," rejoined Mr. Trumbull, quickly, "and most
uncommonly useful to have a fender at hand that will cut, if
you have a leather shoe-tie or a bit of string that wants
cutting and no knife at hand: many a man has been left
hanging because there was no knife to cut him down.
Gentlemen, here's a fender that if you had the misfortune to
hang yourselves would cut you down in no time — with
astonishing celerity — four-and-sixpence — five — five-and-sixpence — an appropriate thing for a spare bedroom where
there was a four-poster and a guest a little out of his
mind — six shillings — thank you, Mr. Clintup — going at six
shillings — going — gone!" The auctioneer's glance, which had
been searching round him with a preternatural susceptibility
to all signs of bidding, here dropped on the paper before
him, and his voice too dropped into a tone of indifferent
despatch as he said, " Mr. Clintup. Be handy, Joseph."
"It was worth six shillings to have a fender you could
always tell that joke on," said Mr. Clintup, laughing low
and apologetically to his next neighbor. He was a diffident
though
distinguished nurseryman, and feared that the
audience might regard his bid as a foolish one.
Meanwhile Joseph had brought a trayful of small
articles. " Now, ladies," said Mr. Trumbull, taking up one
of the articles, " this tray contains a very recherchy lot —
a collection of trifles for the drawing-room table — and
trifles make the sum of human things — nothing more
important than trifles — (yes, Mr. Ladislaw, yes, by-and-by) — but pass the tray round, Joseph — these bijoux must be
examined, ladies. This I have in my hand is an ingenious
contrivance — a sort of practical rebus, I may call it: here,
you see, it looks like an elegant heart-shaped box,
portable — for the pocket; there, again, it becomes like a
splendid double flower — an ornament for the table; and
now" — Mr. Trumbull allowed the flower to fall alarmingly
into strings of heart-shaped leaves — "a book of riddles! No
less than five hundred printed in a beautiful red Gentlemen,
if I had less of a conscience, I should not wish you to bid
high for this lot — I have a longing for it myself. What can
promote innocent mirth, and I may say virtue, more than a
good riddle? — it hinders profane language, and attaches a
man to the society of refined females. This ingenious
article itself, without the elegant domino-box, card-basket,
etc., ought alone to give a high price to the lot. Carried
in the pocket it might make an individual welcome in any
society. Four shillings, sir? — four shillings for this
remarkable collection of riddles with the et caeteras. Here
is a sample: `How must you spell honey to make it catch
lady-birds? Answer — money.' You hear? — lady-birds — honey —
money. This is an amusement to sharpen the intellect; it
has a sting — it has what we call satire, and wit without
indecency. Four-and-sixpence — five shillings."
The bidding ran on with warming rivalry. Mr. Bowyer was
a bidder, and this was too exasperating. Bowyer couldn't
afford it, and only wanted to hinder every other man from
making a figure. The current carried even Mr. Horrock with
it, but this committal of himself to an opinion fell from
him with so little sacrifice of his neutral expression, that
the bid might not have been detected as his but for the
friendly oaths
of Mr. Bambridge, who wanted to know
what Horrock would do with blasted stuff only fit for
haberdashers given over to that state of perdition which the
horse-dealer so cordially recognized in the majority of
earthly existences. The lot was finally knocked down at a
guinea to Mr. Spilkins, a young Slender of the neighborhood,
who was reckless with his pocket-money and felt his want of
memory for riddles.
"Come, Trumbull, this is too bad — you've been putting
some old maid's rubbish into the sale," murmured Mr. Toller,
getting close to the auctioneer. " I want to see how the
prints go, and I must be off soon."
" Immediately, Mr. Toller. It was only an act of
benevolence which your noble heart would approve. Joseph!
quick with the prints — Lot 235. Now, gentlemen, you who are
connoiss ures, you are going to have a treat. Here is an
engraving of the Duke of Wellington surrounded by his staff
on the Field of Waterloo; and notwithstanding recent events
which have, as it were, enveloped our great Hero in a cloud,
I will be bold to say — for a man in my line must not be
blown about by political winds — that a finer subject — of the
modern order, belonging to our own time and epoch — the
understanding of man could hardly conceive: angels might,
perhaps, but not men, sirs, not men."
"Who painted it?" said Mr. Powderell, much impressed.
"It is a proof before the letter, Mr. Powderell — the
painter is not known," answered Trumbull, with a certain
gaspingness in his last words, after which he pursed up his
lips and stared round him.
"I'll bid a pound!" said Mr. Powderell, in a tone of
resolved emotion, as of a man ready to put himself in the
breach. Whether from awe or pity, nobody raised the price
on him.
Next came two Dutch prints which Mr. Toller had been
eager for, and after he had secured them he went away.
Other prints, and afterwards some paintings, were sold to
leading Middlemarchers who had come with a special desire
for them, and there was a more active movement of the
audience in and out; some, who had bought what they wanted,
going away, others coming in either quite newly or from a
temporary visit
to the refreshments which were spread
under the marquee on the lawn. It was this marquee that Mr.
Bambridge was bent on buying, and he appeared to like
looking inside it frequently, as a foretaste of its
possession. On the last occasion of his return from it he
was observed to bring with him a new companion, a stranger
to Mr. Trumbull and every one else, whose appearance,
however, led to the supposition that he might be a relative
of the horse-dealer's — also " given to indulgence." His
large whiskers, imposing swagger, and swing of the leg, made
him a striking figure; but his suit of black, rather shabby
at the edges, caused the prejudicial inference that he was
not able to afford himself as much indulgence as he liked.
"Who is it you've picked up, Bam?" said Mr. Horrock,
aside.
"Ask him yourself," returned Mr. Bambridge. "He said
he'd just turned in from the road."
Mr. Horrock eyed the stranger, who was leaning back
against his stick with one hand, using his toothpick with
the other, and looking about him with a certain restlessness
apparently under the silence imposed on him by
circumstances.
At length the " Supper at Emmaus " was brought forward,
to Wills immense relief, for he was getting so tired of the
proceedings that he had drawn back a little and leaned his
shoulder against the wall just behind the auctioneer. He
now came forward again, and his eye caught the conspicuous
stranger, who, rather to his surprise, was staring at him
markedly. But Will was immediately appealed to by Mr.
Trumbull.
"Yes, Mr. Ladislaw, yes; this interests you as a
connoiss ure, I think. It is some pleasure," the
auctioneer went on with a rising fervor, " to have a picture
like this to show to a company of ladies and gentlemen — a
picture worth any sum to an individual whose means were on a
level with his judgment. It is a painting of the Italian
school — by the celebrated Guydo, the greatest painter in
the world, the chief of the Old Masters, as they are
called — I take it, because they were up to a thing or two
beyond most of us — in possession of secrets
now lost to
the bulk of mankind. Let me tell you, gentlemen, I have
seen a great many pictures by the Old Masters, and they are
not all up to this mark — some of them are darker than you
might like and not family subjects. But here is a
Guydo — the frame alone is worth pounds — which any lady
might be proud to hang up — a suitable thing for what we call
a refectory in a charitable institution, if any gentleman of
the Corporation wished to show his munifi
cence. Turn it
a little, sir? yes. Joseph, turn it a little towards Mr.
Ladislaw — Mr. Ladislaw, having been abroad, understands the
merit of these things, you observe."
All eyes were for a moment turned towards Will, who
said, coolly, " Five pounds." The auctioneer burst out in
deep remonstrance.
"Ah! Mr. Ladislaw! the frame alone is worth that.
Ladies and gentlemen, for the credit of the town! Suppose
it should be discovered hereafter that a gem of art has been
amongst us in this town, and nobody in Middlemarch awake to
it. Five guineas — five seven-six — five ten. Still, ladies,
still! It is a gem, and ' Full many a gem,' as the poet
says, has been allowed to go at a nominal pride because the
public knew no better, because it was offered in circles
where there was — I was going to say a low feeling, but no
! — Six pounds — six guineas — a Guydo of the first order
going at six guineas — it is an insult to religion, ladies;
it touches us all as Christians, gentlemen, that a subject
like this should go at such a low figure — six pounds ten —
seven — "
The bidding was brisk, and Will continued to share in
it, remembering that Mrs. Bulstrode had a strong wish for
the picture, and thinking that he might stretch the price to
twelve pounds. But it was knocked down to him at ten
guineas, whereupon he pushed his way towards the bow-window
and went out. He chose to go under the marquee to get a
glass of water, being hot and thirsty: it was empty of other
visitors, and he asked the woman in attendance to fetch him
some fresh water; but before she was well gone he was
annoyed to see entering the florid stranger who had stared
at him. It struck Will at this moment that the man might be
one of those
political parasitic insects of the bloated
kind who had once or twice claimed acquaintance with him as
having heard him speak on the Reform question, and who might
think of getting a shilling by news. In this light his
person, already rather heating to behold on a summer's day,
appeared the more disagreeable; and Will, half-seated on the
elbow of a garden-chair, turned his eyes carefully away from
the comer. But this signified little to our acquaintance
Mr. Raffles, who never hesitated to thrust himself on
unwilling observation, if it suited his purpose to do so.
He moved. a step or two till he was in front of Will, and
said with full-mouthed haste, "Excuse me, Mr. Ladislaw — was
your mother's name Sarah Dunkirk?"
Will, starting to his feet, moved backward a step,
frowning, and saying with some fierceness, " Yes, sir, it
was. And what is that to you?"
It was in Will's nature that the first spark it threw
out was a direct answer of the question and a challenge of
the consequences. To have said, " What is that to you?" in
the first instance, would have seemed like shuffling — as if
he minded who knew anything about his origin !
Raffles on his side had not the same eagerness for a
collision which was implied in Ladislaw's threatening air.
The slim young fellow with his girl's complexion looked like
a tiger-cat ready to spring on him. Under such
circumstances Mr. Raffles's pleasure in annoying his company
was kept in abeyance.
"No offence, my good sir, no offence! I only remember
your mother — knew her when she was a girl. But it is your
father that you feature, sir. I had the pleasure of seeing
your father too. Parents alive, Mr. Ladislaw?"
"No!" thundered Will, in the same attitude as before.
"Should be glad to do you a service, Mr. Ladislaw — by
Jove, I should! Hope to meet again."
Hereupon Raffles, who had lifted his hat with the last
words, turned himself round with a swing of his leg and
walked away. Will looked after him a moment, and could see
that he did not re-enter the auction-room, but appeared to
be walking towards the road. For an instant he thought that
he had been
foolish not to let the man go on talking; —
but no! on the whole he preferred doing without knowledge
from that source.
Later in the evening, however, Raffles overtook him in
the street, and appearing either to have forgotten the
roughness of his former reception or to intend avenging it
by a forgiving familiarity, greeted him jovially and walked
by his side, re marking at first on the pleasantness of the
town and neighbor hood. Will suspected that the man had
been drinking and was considering how to shake him off when
Raffles said —
"I've been abroad myself, Mr. Ladislaw — I've seen the
world — used to parley-vous a little. It was at Boulogne I
saw your father — a most uncommon likeness you are of him, by
Jove! mouth — nose — eyes — hair turned off your brow just like
his — a little in the foreign style. John Bull doesn't do
much of that. But your father was very ill when I saw him.
Lord, lord! hands you might see through. You were a small
youngster then. Did he get well?"
"No," said Will, curtly.
"Ah! Well! I've often wondered what became of your
mother. She ran away from her friends when she was a young
lass — a proud-spirited lass, and pretty, by Jove! I knew
the reason why she ran away," said Raffles, winking slowly
as he looked sideways at Will.
"You know nothing dishonorable of her, sir," said Will,
turning on him rather savagely. But Mr. Raffles just now
was not sensitive to shades of manner.
"Not a bit!" said he, tossing his head decisively "She
was a little too honorable to like her friends — that was
it!" Here Raffles again winked slowly. " Lord bless you, I
knew all about 'em — a little in what you may call the
respectable thieving line — the high style of receiving-house — none of your holes and corners — first-rate. Slap-up
shop, high profits and no mistake. But Lord! Sarah would
have known nothing about it — a dashing young lady she was — A
fine boarding-school — fit for a lord's wife — only Archie
Duncan threw it at her out of spite, because she would have
nothing to do with him. And so she ran away from the whole
concern. I travelled for 'em, sir, in a gentlemanly way — at
a high salary. They
didn't mind her running away at
first — godly folks, sir, very godly — and she was for the
stage. The son was alive then, and the daughter was at a
discount. Hallo! here we are at the Blue Bull. What do you
say, Mr. Ladislaw? — shall we turn in and have a glass?"
"No, I must say good evening," said Will, dashing up a
passage which led into Lowick Gate, and almost running to
get out of Raffles's reach.
He walked a long while on the Lowick road away from the
town, glad of the starlit darkness when it came. He felt as
if he had had dirt cast on him amidst shouts of scorn.
There was this to confirm the fellow's statement — that his
mother never would tell him the reason why she had run away
from her family.
Well! what was he, Will Ladislaw, the worse, supposing
the truth about that family to be the ugliest? His mother
had braved hardship in order to separate herself from it.
But if Dorothea's friends had known this story — if the
Chettams had known it — they would have had a fine color to
give their suspicions a welcome ground for thinking him
unfit to come near her. However, let them suspect what they
pleased, they would find themselves in the wrong. They
would find out that the blood in his veins was as free from
the taint of meanness as theirs.