A Simpleton

C >> Charles Reade >> A Simpleton


They returned, then, from their honey tour, and Staines, who was
methodical and kept a diary, made the following entry therein:--

"We have now a life of endurance, and self-denial, and economy, before
us; we have to rent a house, and furnish it, and live in it, until
professional income shall flow in and make all things easy: and we have
two thousand five hundred pounds left to do it with."

They came to a family hotel, and Dr. Staines went out directly after
breakfast to look for a house. Acting on a friend's advice, he visited
the streets and places north of Oxford Street, looking for a good
commodious house adapted to his business. He found three or four at fair
rents, neither cheap nor dear, the district being respectable and rather
wealthy, but no longer fashionable. He came home with his notes, and
found Rosa beaming in a crisp peignoir, and her lovely head its natural
size and shape, high-bred and elegant. He sat down, and with her hand
in his proceeded to describe the houses to her, when a waiter threw open
the door--"Mrs. John Cole."

"Florence!" cried Rosa, starting up.

In flowed Florence: they both uttered a little squawk of delight,
and went at each other like two little tigresses, and kissed in swift
alternation with a singular ardor, drawing their crests back like
snakes, and then darting them forward and inflicting what, to the male
philosopher looking on, seemed hard kisses, violent kisses, rather than
the tender ones to be expected from two tender creatures embracing each
other.

"Darling," said Rosa, "I knew you would be the first. Didn't I tell you
so, Christopher?--My husband--my darling Florry! Sit down, love, and
tell me everything; he has just been looking out for a house. Ah!
you have got all that over long ago: she has been married six months.
Florry, you are handsomer than ever; and what a beautiful dress! Ah!
London is the place. Real Brussels, I declare," and she took hold of her
friend's lace and gloated on it.

Christopher smiled good-naturedly, and said, "I dare say you ladies have
a good deal to say to each other."

"Oceans," said Rosa.

"I will go and hunt houses again."

"There's a good husband," said Mrs. Cole, as soon as the door closed
on him, "and such a fine man! Why, he must be six feet. Mine is rather
short. But he is very good; refuses me nothing. My will is law."

"That is all right--you are so sensible; but I want governing a little,
and I like it--actually. Did the dressmaker find it, dear?"

"Oh, no! I had it by me. I bought it at Brussels on our wedding tour: it
is dearer there than in London."

She said this as if "dearer" and "better" were synonymous.

"But about your house, Rosie dear?"

"Yes, darling, I'll tell you all about it. I never saw a moire
this shade before. I don't care for them in general; but this is so
distingue."

Florence rewarded her with a kiss.

"The house," said Rosa. "Oh, he has seen one in Portman Street, and one
in Gloucester Place."

"Oh, that will never do," cried Mrs. Cole. "It is no use being a
physician in those out-of-the-way places. He must be in Mayfair."

"Must he?"

"Of course. Besides, then my Johnnie can call him in when they are just
going to die. Johnnie is a general prac., and makes two thousand a year;
and he shall call your one in; but he must live in Mayfair. Why, Rosie,
you would not be such a goose as to live in those places--they are quite
gone by."

"I shall do whatever you advise me, dear. Oh, what a comfort to have a
dear friend: and six months married, and knows things. How richly it is
trimmed! Why, it is nearly all trimmings."

"That is the fashion."

"Oh!"

And after that big word there was no more to be said.

These two ladies in their conversation gravitated towards dress, and
fell flat on it every half-minute. That great and elevating topic held
them by a silken cord, but it allowed them to flutter upwards into other
topics; and in those intervals, numerous though brief, the lady who had
been married six months found time to instruct the matrimonial novice
with great authority, and even a shade of pomposity. "My dear, the way
ladies and gentlemen get a house--in the first place, you don't go about
yourself like that, and you never go to the people themselves, or you
are sure to be taken in, but to a respectable house-agent."

"Yes, dear, that must be the best way, one would think."

"Of course it is; and you ask for a house in Mayfair, and he shows you
several, and recommends you the best, and sees you are not cheated."

"Thank you, love," said Rosa; "now I know what to do; I'll not forget a
word. And the train so beautifully shaped! Ah! it is only in London or
Paris they can make a dress flow behind like that," etc., etc.

Dr. Staines came back to dinner in good spirits; he had found a house in
Harewood Square; good entrance hall, where his gratuitous patients might
sit on benches; good dining-room where his superior patients might wait;
and good library, to be used as a consulting-room. Rent only eighty-five
pounds per annum.

But Rosa told him that would never do; a physician must be in the
fashionable part of the town.

"Eventually," said Christopher; "but surely at first starting--and you
know they say little boats should not go too far from shore."

Then Rosa repeated all her friend's arguments, and seemed so unhappy at
the idea of not living near her, that Staines, who had not yet said
the hard word "no" to her, gave in; consoling his prudence with the
reflection that, after all, Mr. Cole could put many a guinea in his
way, for Mr. Cole was middle-aged,--though his wife was young,--and had
really a very large practice.

So next day, the newly-wedded pair called on a house-agent in Mayfair,
and his son and partner went with them to several places. The rents of
houses equal to that in Harewood Square were three hundred pounds a year
at least, and a premium to boot.

Christopher told him these were quite beyond the mark. "Very well," said
the agent. "Then I'll show you a Bijou."

Rosa clapped her hands. "That is the thing for us. We don't want a large
house, only a beautiful one, and in Mayfair."

"Then the Bijou will be sure to suit you."

He took them to the Bijou.

The Bijou had a small dining-room with one very large window in two
sheets of plate glass, and a projecting balcony full of flowers; a still
smaller library, which opened on a square yard enclosed. Here were a
great many pots, with flowers dead or dying from neglect. On the first
floor a fair-sized drawing-room, and a tiny one at the back: on the
second floor, one good bedroom, and a dressing-room, or little bedroom:
three garrets above.

Rosa was in ecstasies. "It is a nest," said she.

"It is a bank-note," said the agent, stimulating equal enthusiasm, after
his fashion. "You can always sell the lease again for more money."

Christopher kept cool. "I don't want a house to sell, but to live in,
and do my business; I am a physician: now the drawing-room is built over
the entrance to a mews; the back rooms all look into a mews: we shall
have the eternal noise and smell of a mews. My wife's rest will be
broken by the carriages rolling in and out. The hall is fearfully small
and stuffy. The rent is abominably high; and what is the premium for, I
wonder?"

"Always a premium in Mayfair, sir. A lease is property here: the
gentleman is not acquainted with this part, madam."

"Oh, yes, he is," said Rosa, as boldly as a six years' wife: "he knows
everything."

"Then he knows that a house of this kind at a hundred and thirty pounds
a year in Mayfair is a bank-note."

Staines turned to Rosa. "The poor patients, where am I to receive them?"

"In the stable," suggested the house agent.

"Oh!" said Rosa, shocked.

"Well, then, the coach-house. Why, there's plenty of room for a
brougham, and one horse, and fifty poor patients at a time: beggars
musn't be choosers; if you give them physic gratis, that is enough: you
ain't bound to find 'em a palace to sit down in, and hot coffee and rump
steaks all round, doctor."

This tickled Rosa so that she burst out laughing, and thenceforward
giggled at intervals, wit of this refined nature having all the charm of
novelty for her.

They inspected the stables, which were indeed the one redeeming feature
in the horrid little Bijou; and then the agent would show them the
kitchen, and the new stove. He expatiated on this to Mrs. Staines. "Cook
a dinner for thirty people, madam."

"And there's room for them to eat it--in the road," said Staines.

The agent reminded him there were larger places to be had, by a very
simple process, viz., paying for them.

Staines thought of the large, comfortable house in Harewood Square. "One
hundred and thirty pounds a year for this poky little hole?" he groaned.

"Why, it is nothing at all for a Bijou."

"But it is too much for a bandbox."

Rosa laid her hand on his arm, with an imploring glance.

"Well," said he, "I'll submit to the rent, but I really cannot give the
premium, it is too ridiculous. He ought to bribe me to rent it, not I
him."

"Can't be done without, sir."

"Well, I'll give a hundred pounds and no more."

"Impossible, sir."

"Then good morning. Now, dearest, just come and see the house at
Harewood Square,--eighty-five pounds and no premium."

"Will you oblige me with your address, doctor?" said the agent.

"Dr. Staines, Morley's Hotel."

And so they left Mayfair.

Rosa sighed and said, "Oh, the nice little place; and we have lost it
for two hundred pounds."

"Two hundred pounds is a great deal for us to throw away."

"Being near the Coles would soon have made that up to you: and such a
cosey little nest."

"Well the house will not run away."

"But somebody is sure to snap it up. It is a Bijou." She was
disappointed, and half inclined to pout. But she vented her feelings
in a letter to her beloved Florry, and appeared at dinner as sweet as
usual.

During dinner a note came from the agent, accepting Dr. Staine's offer.
He glozed the matter thus: he had persuaded the owner it was better
to take a good tenant at a moderate loss, than to let the Bijou be
uninhabited during the present rainy season. An assignment of
the lease--which contained the usual covenants--would be prepared
immediately, and Dr. Staines could have possession in forty-eight hours,
by paying the premium.

Rosa was delighted, and as soon as dinner was over, and the waiters
gone, she came and kissed Christopher.

He smiled, and said, "Well, you are pleased; that is the principal
thing. I have saved two hundred pounds, and that is something. It will
go towards furnishing."

"La! yes," said Rosa, "I forgot. We shall have to get furniture now.
How nice!" It was a pleasure the man of forecast could have willingly
dispensed with; but he smiled at her, and they discussed furniture,
and Christopher, whose retentive memory had picked up a little of
everything, said there were wholesale upholsterers in the City who sold
cheaper than the West-end houses, and he thought the best way was to
measure the rooms in the Bijou, and go to the city with a clear idea of
what they wanted; ask the prices of various necessary articles, and
then make a list, and demand a discount of fifteen per cent on the whole
order, being so considerable, and paid for in cash.

Rosa acquiesced, and told Christopher he was the cleverest man in
England.

About nine o'clock Mrs. Cole came in to condole with her friend, and
heard the good news. When Rosa told her how they thought of furnishing,
she said, "Oh no, you must not do that; you will pay double for
everything. That is the mistake Johnnie and I made; and after that
a friend of mine took me to the auction-rooms, and I saw everything
sold--oh, such bargains; half, and less than half, their value. She
has furnished her house almost entirely from sales, and she has the
loveliest things in the world--such ducks of tables, and jardinieres,
and things; and beautiful rare china--her house swarms with it--for an
old song. A sale is the place. And then so amusing."

"Yes, but," said Christopher, "I should not like my wife to encounter a
public room."

"Not alone, of course; but with me. La! Dr. Staines, they are too full
of buying and selling to trouble their heads about us."

"Oh, Christopher, do let me go with her. Am I always to be a child?"

Thus appealed to before a stranger, Staines replied warmly, "No,
dearest, no; you cannot please me better than by beginning life in
earnest. If you two ladies together can face an auction-room, go by all
means; only I must ask you not to buy china or ormulu, or anything that
will break or spoil, but only solid, good furniture."

"Won't you come with us?"

"No; or you might feel yourself in leading-strings. Remember the Bijou
is a small house; choose your furniture to fit it, and then we shall
save something by its being so small."

This was Wednesday. There was a weekly sale in Oxford Street on Fridays;
and the ladies made the appointment accordingly.

Next day, after breakfast, Christopher was silent and thoughtful awhile,
and at last said to Rosa, "I'll show you I don't look on you as a child;
I'll consult you in a delicate matter."

Rosa's eyes sparkled.

"It is about my Uncle Philip. He has been very cruel; he has wounded
me deeply; he has wounded me through my wife. I never thought he would
refuse to come to our marriage."

"And did he? You never showed me his letter."

"You were not my wife then. I kept an affront from you; but now, you
see, I keep nothing."

"Dear Christie!"

"I am so happy, I have got over that sting--almost; and the memory of
many kind acts comes back to me; and I don't know what to do. It seems
ungrateful not to visit him--it seems almost mean to call."

"I'll tell you; take me to see him directly. He won't hate us forever,
if he sees us often. We may as well begin at once. Nobody hates me
long."

Christopher was proud of his wife's courage and wisdom. He kissed
her, begged her to put on the plainest dress she could, and they went
together to call on Uncle Philip.

When they got to his house in Gloucester Place, Portman Square, Rosa's
heart began to quake, and she was right glad when the servant said "Not
at home."

They left their cards and address; and she persuaded Christopher to take
her to the sale-room to see the things.

A lot of brokers were there, like vultures; and one after another
stepped forward and pestered them to employ him in the morning. Dr.
Staines declined their services civilly but firmly, and he and Rosa
looked over a quantity of furniture, and settled what sort of things to
buy.

Another broker came up, and whenever the couple stopped before an
article, proceeded to praise it as something most extraordinary. Staines
listened in cold, satirical silence, and told his wife, in French, to do
the same. Notwithstanding their marked disgust, the impudent, intrusive
fellow stuck to them, and forced his venal criticism on them, and made
them uncomfortable, and shortened their tour of observation.

"I think I shall come with you to-morrow," said Christopher, "or I shall
have these blackguards pestering you."

"Oh, Florry will send them to the right-about. She is as brave as a
lion."

Next day Dr. Staines was sent for into the City at twelve to pay the
money and receive the lease of the Bijou, and this and the taking
possession occupied him till four o'clock, when he came to his hotel.

Meantime, his wife and Mrs. Cole had gone to the auction-room.

It was a large room, with a good sprinkling of people, but not crowded
except about the table. At the head of this table--full twenty feet
long--was the auctioneer's pulpit, and the lots were brought in turn to
the other end of the table for sight and sale.

"We must try and get a seat," said the enterprising Mrs. Cole, and
pushed boldly in; the timid Rosa followed strictly in her wake, and so
evaded the human waves her leader clove. They were importuned at every
step by brokers thrusting catalogues on them, with offers of their
services, yet they soon got to the table. A gentleman resigned one
chair, a broker another, and they were seated.

Mrs. Staines let down half her veil, but Mrs. Cole surveyed the company
point-blank.

The broker who had given up his seat, and now stood behind Rosa, offered
her his catalogue. "No, thank you," said Rosa; "I have one;" and she
produced it, and studied it, yet managed to look furtively at the
company.

There were not above a dozen private persons visible from where
Rosa sat; perhaps as many more in the whole room. They were easily
distinguishable by their cleanly appearance: the dealers, male or
female, were more or less rusty, greasy, dirty, aquiline. Not even the
amateurs were brightly dressed; that fundamental error was confined to
Mesdames Cole and Staines. The experienced, however wealthy, do not hunt
bargains in silk and satin.

The auctioneer called "Lot 7. Four saucepans, two trays, a kettle, a
bootjack, and a towel-horse."

These were put up at two shillings, and speedily knocked down for five
to a fat old woman in a greasy velvet jacket; blind industry had sewed
bugles on it, not artfully, but agriculturally.

"The lady on the left!" said the auctioneer to his clerk. That meant
"Get the money."

The old lady plunged a huge paw into a huge pocket, and pulled out a
huge handful of coin--copper, silver, and gold--and paid for the lot;
and Rosa surveyed her dirty hands and nails with innocent dismay. "Oh,
what a dreadful creature!" she whispered; "and what can she want with
those old rubbishy things? I saw a hole in one from here." The broker
overheard, and said, "She is a dealer, ma'am, and the things were given
away. She'll sell them for a guinea, easy."

"Didn't I tell you?" said Mrs. Cole.

Soon after this the superior lots came on, and six very neat bedroom
chairs were sold to all appearance for fifteen shillings.

The next lot was identical, and Rosa hazarded a bid,--"Sixteen
shillings."

Instantly some dealer, one of the hook-nosed that gathered round each
lot as it came to the foot of the table, cried "Eighteen shillings."

"Nineteen," said Rosa.

"A guinea," said the dealer.

"Don't let it go," said the broker behind her. "Don't let it go, ma'am."

She colored at the intrusion, and left off bidding directly, and
addressed herself to Mrs. Cole. "Why should I give so much, when the
last were sold for fifteen shillings?"

The real reason was that the first lot was not bid for at all, except by
the proprietor. However, the broker gave her a very different solution;
he said, "The trade always run up a lady or a gentleman. Let me bid for
you; they won't run me up; they know better."

Rosa did not reply, but looked at Mrs. Cole.

"Yes, dear," said that lady; "you had much better let him bid for you."

"Very well," said Rosa; "you can bid for this chest of drawers--lot 25."

When lot 25 came on, the broker bid in the silliest possible way, if
his object had been to get a bargain. He began to bid early and
ostentatiously; the article was protected by somebody or other there
present, who now of course saw his way clear; he ran it up audaciously,
and it was purchased for Rosa at about the price it could have been
bought for at a shop.

The next thing she wanted was a set of oak chairs.

They went up to twenty-eight pounds; then she said, "I shall give no
more, sir."

"Better not lose them," said the agent; "they are a great bargain;" and
bid another pound for her on his own responsibility.

They were still run up, and Rosa peremptorily refused to give any more.
She lost them, accordingly, by good luck. Her faithful broker looked
blank; so did the proprietor.

But, as the sale proceeded, she being young, the competition, though
most of it sham, being artful and exciting, and the traitor she employed
constantly puffing every article, she was drawn in to wishing for
things, and bidding by her feelings.

Then her traitor played a game that has been played a hundred times, and
the perpetrators never once lynched, as they ought to be, on the spot.
He signalled a confederate with a hooked nose; the Jew rascal bid
against the Christian scoundrel, and so they ran up the more enticing
things to twice their value under the hammer.

Rosa got flushed, and her eye gleamed like a gambler's, and she bought
away like wildfire. In which sport she caught sight of an old gentleman,
with little black eyes that kept twinkling at her.

She complained of these eyes to Mrs. Cole. "Why does he twinkle so? I
can see it is at me. I am doing something foolish--I know I am."

Mrs. Cole turned, and fixed a haughty stare on the old gentleman. Would
you believe it? instead of sinking through the floor, he sat his ground,
and retorted with a cold, clear grin.

But now, whenever Rosa's agent bid for her, and the other man of straw
against him, the black eyes twinkled, and Rosa's courage began to ooze
away. At last she said, "That is enough for one day. I shall go. Who
could bear those eyes?"

The broker took her address; so did the auctioneer's clerk. The
auctioneer asked her for no deposit; her beautiful, innocent, and
high-bred face was enough for a man who was always reading faces, and
interpreting them.

And so they retired.

But this charming sex is like that same auctioneer's hammer, it cannot
go abruptly. It is always going--going--going--a long time before it is
gone. I think it would perhaps loiter at the door of a jail, with the
order of release in its hand, after six years' confinement. Getting up
to go quenches in it the desire to go. So these ladies having got up to
go, turned and lingered, and hung fire so long, that at last another set
of oak chairs came up. "Oh! I must see what these go for," said Rosa, at
the door.

The bidding was mighty languid now Rosa's broker was not stimulating
it; and the auctioneer was just knocking down twelve chairs--oak and
leather--and two arm-chairs, for twenty pounds, when, casting his eyes
around, he caught sight of Rosa looking at him rather excited. He looked
inquiringly at her. She nodded slightly; he knocked them down to her at
twenty guineas, and they were really a great bargain.

"Twenty-two," cried the dealer.

"Too late," said the auctioneer.

"I spoke with the hammer, sir."

"After the hammer, Isaacs."

"Shelp me God, we was together."

One or two more of his tribe confirmed this pious falsehood, and
clamored to have them put up again.

"Call the next lot," said the auctioneer, peremptorily. "Make up your
mind a little quicker next time, Mr. Isaacs; you have been long enough
at it to know the value of oak and moroccar."

Mrs. Staines and her friend now started for Morley's Hotel, but went
round by Regent Street, whereby they got glued at Peter Robinson's
window, and nine other windows; and it was nearly five o'clock when they
reached Morley's. As they came near the door of their sitting-room, Mrs.
Staines heard somebody laughing and talking to her husband. The
laugh, to her subtle ears, did not sound musical and genial, but keen,
satirical, unpleasant; so it was with some timidity she opened the door,
and there sat the old chap with the twinkling eyes. Both parties stared
at each other a moment.

"Why, it is them," cried the old gentleman. "Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!"

Rosa colored all over, and felt guilty somehow, and looked miserable.

"Rosa dear," said Dr. Staines, "this is our Uncle Philip."

"Oh!" said Rosa, and turned red and pale by turns; for she had a great
desire to propitiate Uncle Philip.

"You were in the auction-room, sir?" said Mrs. Cole, severely.

"I was, madam. He! he!"

"Furnishing a house?"

"No, ma'am. I go to a dozen sales a week; but it is not to buy--I enjoy
the humors. Did you ever hear of Robert Burton, ma'am?"

"No. Yes; a great traveller, isn't he? Discovered the Nile--or the
Niger--or SOMETHING?"

This majestic vagueness staggered old Crusty at first, but he recovered
his equilibrium, and said, "Why, yes, now I think of it, you are right;
he has travelled farther than most of us, for about two centuries ago
he visited that bourn whence no traveller returns. Well, when he was
alive--he was a student of Christchurch--he used to go down to a certain
bridge over the Isis and enjoy the chaff of the bargemen. Now there are
no bargemen left to speak of; the mantle of Bobby Burton's bargees has
fallen on the Jews and demi-semi-Christians that buy and sell furniture
at the weekly auctions; thither I repair to hear what little coarse wit
is left us. Used to go to the House of Commons; but they are getting too
civil by half for my money. Besides, characters come out in an auction.
For instance, only this very day I saw two ladies enter, in gorgeous
attire, like heifers decked for sacrifice, and reduce their spoliation
to a certainty by employing a broker to bid. Now, what is a broker?
A fellow who is to be paid a shilling in the pound for all articles
purchased. What is his interest, then? To buy cheap? Clearly not. He is
paid in proportion to the dearness of the article."

Rosa's face began to work piteously.