The Sun.
London, England, 1842-09-10 00:00:00

THE SUN, LONDON, SATURDAY EVENING, SEPTEMBER 10, 1842.

such laws would be again passed if the master
class in Parliament was entrusted with the
power of regulating wages. But they cannot
be entrusted to keep them up without also
placing in their hands the power to beat them
down. In 1682, under the influence of laws re-
gulating wages, the labourer could hardly .com-
mand as much as three-quarters of a peck of
wheat. Without referring to more-details, by
which it appears that the labourer has always
been kept by law on the verge of starvation,
,we
shall content ourselves with quoting Mr. MAL-.
Tuus's opinion as to the effect of a psuedo bene-
volent attempt to regulate wages. Speaking of
the fall in the value of money which took place
between 1793 and 1814, he says--

" I am strongly of opinion, that if the price of labour
had not been kept down by artificial.means, it would
have risen higher in proportion than the average price
of corn ; and the opinion is fairly borne out by facts."
" It is known that in many counties, and in the southern
parts of England, wages in 1810 and 1811 were unnatu-
rally kept down to 125., 10s., 95., and even is. 6d., by
the baneful system of regularly maintaining the chil-
dren of the poor out of the rates. It may be fairly con-
cluded, if this system had not prevailed, the wages of
labour would have risen higher than the price of wheat."
For the interest of the labourers, therefore,
whether the Legislature pass statutes, or Magi-
strates make orders, there must 'be' nd interfe-
rence with wages. It would be impossible to
prevent self-interest turning the interference to
its own advantage. The right to interfere must
add to the power of the Legislature over the
workman, and make him more than ever a slave.
As to the masters, and as to society, one con-
sideration will suffice
.to show the injuriousness
of departing from the general rule. It would be
a palpable and forced spoliation of the property
of the masters. We take it for granted that the
occupations of the masters, which enrich them,
are beneficial to society. The masters en-
gage in those occupations for the sake of pro-
fit; to despoil the masters would destroy
their profit, and would put an end to their occu-
pations. Labourers, masters, and society at
large, therefore, would all be grievously injured
by not observing the general rule not to inter-
fere between masters and workmen. The only
way in which they can fairly divide betwixt
them the produce of their united labour is by
free competition, or what is called the higgling
of the market. Competition must, however, be
completely and thoroughly free. Two principles
now divide society—free competition and minute
regulation ; as the former is established, each
individual will find his wages determined by the
markets of the world; as the latter triumphs, the
Legislature will reward him sedan ses ceuvres.

THE. GREAT AUCTIONEER.
(From,Bentley's Miscellany for September.)

The following amusing portraiture will afford some
entertainment -to our readers---it is so intelligently
written that it can leave no doubt about the original :--
At the head of the list of auctioneers of the pre-
sent. day stands a gentleman of such high endow-
ments and unquestionable superiority in his vocation,
that I hardly dare presume to attempt his portraiture.
He -is a grand remove above the general caste of his
order. in his person is concentrated all the aristo-
cracy -of his calling. He is in the Auction Mart
what Rothschild used to be on 'Change, or what Da-
niel:Lambert would have been at Guildhall, had he
been a member of the City Corporation, a triton
among the -minnows, a perfect leviathan, or, as the
geologists would have it, a perfect iguanadon. He
stands alone —not only in the box, but in the eye pf
the world, and of his pigmy•brethren of the hammer.
The appearance of this gentleman in public is heralded
by the advertisement for several months in the prinCi-
pal newspapers of a programme of his approaching
sales, which presents as fair a specimen as pen could
supply .of the plausive :and alluring powers, by the
exercise of which his great professional eminence is
been achieved. These effusions are unlike anything
which ancient or modern literature affords, or rather,
they combine the perfections of both, and in the mix-
ture of perspicuity, luxuriance, and refinement, which
pervade them, as compositions they may be said to be
without a parallel. He has the happy faculty of in-._
~vesting• a -genteel residence with supernatural en-
chantments, and of transporting his readers, all in the
way of business, into the regions of fairy land where
splendour and beauty strive for the mastery. And
he does it without drawing an invention for a fact,
or presuming to enter one item in his catalogue which
an inspection of the estate does not justify. His
effects are wrought by -the sheer art of colouring.
Where an ordinary auctioneer would give. a descrip-:
tion of a site, he will give a history of a site, and gar-
nish it with a train of pleasing and romantic associa-
tions. He exhausts the pictorial beauties of hi 3 scene
and " then imagines new." The vegetable world he
endues with spirituality, and will give the ivy credit
for ingenuity, as well as devotion to the domain that
cherishes it, in the grace and order with which it en-
twines itself round the walls. Rocks he inspires with
symmetry, and embryo chalybeates are incubated by
his magic touch. Pomp and retirement are offered in
equal perfection; here the tournaments of ancient
days might be transcended, and yet Zimmerman have
' found inspiration for his muse. The thought that
suggests itself to the mind on perusing these things
is, how can the man knock down so many paradises ?
Is he a destroying angel in disguise-? or is it " Cain's
jawbone," he wieldeth in his left hand, miscalling it a
hammer ?

On the day appointed, and within five or ten mi-
nutes after the hour fixed for business, he is announced
by the ringing of a bell, a cluster of eager-looking
persons in the lobby are seen wending towards the
auction-room, headed by a tall, hale-looking man,
about fifty years of age, holding some papers in his
hand, and talking (without looking at any one as he
moves) in a loud nasal tone and peremptory manner.
He ascends the pulpit, and takes his seat, where he is
seen more at leisure. On the occasion when I had
the pleasure of seeing him he was dressed in a pea-
green frock coat and velvet collar, white trousers and
shoes, a buff waistcoat, and o. bright blue stock, sur-
mounted by an ample pair of gills, and aphysiognomy
to which only M. Claudet, when the sun, as the
auctioneer is fond of saying, "is pleased to shine
upon us," could do full justice—a head not over-
burthoned with hair, a forehead of ample develop-
ment, a rough weather-beaten complexion, and a pair
of dark destructive-looking eyes, quick in motion•and

various in expression, by nature wrathful, often
watchful, playful if need be, and, where the interests
ando
of hifsupnr.incrifeallodoekms sparklingcompound of the sportsman,d it, with merriment
the comedian, and the sea captain, possessing con-
siderable patronage, and of an iron constitution. A
glass of water is brought up and placed beside him,
slightly coloured. He arranges his papers, and,
rubbing his glasses, surveys his congregation, recog-
nisinghere and there one, and honouring each with
agen:f thetleinflection
no means amounting to a smile,
of the head, and a slight contrac-
tionunless where he recognises a capitalist or a distin-
guished intime, when, sportive as a kitten, genial as
mine host of the tavern, and yet with something of caus-
ticity in his humour, he cries to him to "come into
Court," leaving no escape for the capitalist, who obeys
the injunction and advances within whisper-shot of
his tutelary friend, for there's more between them
than meets the cursory ear, and the capitalist is not
one of the loungers. He then, still seated, calls upon
theclerfkor ttohere
taeddiothusene's‘scoonfditthiontnseeorfernS:odny, e,"
apolo-
gisingwhich
he owns to be "flat and unprofitable,'!' -:indeed he
avows that, with Shakspeare, he may exclaim, " they
would be more honoured in the breach than the ob-
servance;" asseverating viva voce, that if ever lines
were applicable, those lines of the great bard were
ipplicable to the reading of " conditions of sale ;"
but to which, however,-he patiently,listens, with his
eye-glasses over his nose, and 'a copy.of the "unpro-
fitable"" flat " before him. Inter-
ruptions begin to arise. Gentlemen with ready
money will ask questions. It is uflnil avail for the
auctioneer to tell them that,the title is unquestioned,
documentnow lying
that the Lord Chancellor has confirmed its validity in
a Court of Equity, and that, as far as that point goes,
omnoer mighta
0
oneself
happy about it, and without
sleep, and
" End the heartache,
And the thousand natural cares that flesh is heir to,"—
he " must be satisfied," and catechises the advocate
accordingly:—the catechumen looks condescension,
and meets his inquiries with promptitude and effect.
I understand there are few that venture to ask ques-
tions of this gentlemen who ever take much by their
motion ; for if they elicit, as they often do, infor-
m mation favourable to the seller, so much the better
for him; and if the colloquy have the opposite ten-
dency, such is his ready versatility, that he can an-
ticipate a thrust with the needle's point, or chaff his
adversary into hopeless silence.
He now stands up, and commences his exordium.
This is surpassing,. The beauties of nature are here
eclipsed by the flowers of eloquence, and the figures
of rhetoric east into the shade by the nameless air
with which he utters his enlogium on the house and
grounds about to be knocked down to the highest
bidder. I had been attracted to the scene by a
perusal of his printed lucubrations, and now, in the
presence of the master-spirit from which they had
emanated, felt thankful that the property was so far
beyond- ray poor means of investment, as to leave me
[sighing to fear from the wiles of the arch-tempter
before me. In his oral address he rejects all formali-
ties of diction, throws aside the restraint of conti-
nuity, and speaks with a racy energy truly irresisti-
ble. He unites the acumen of the pleader, the esprit
of the wit, and the fascination of the improvisatore—
makes his hits and points like a great actor, and
works them up with the aid of his potent physiognomy,
his equally potent action, and his hammer. He states
the valuation, and contends that it is too low—and dilates
upon the brightening prospects of agriculture under
the blessed effects of Sir ltobert Peel's new measure,
which he states to be perfect, and contents him-
self with simply predicting, upon his honour
as a gentleman, that it must work incalculable
good for the interests of all classes, and conse-
quently of every class in particular. Upon his de-
scending more into detail I was struck by the felicity
with which he dwelt on the exquisite adaptation of
the land then under sale for the purpose of fattening
bullocks (it was the day on which he sold the large
estates of Montagu Parker, late M.P. for South De-
vonshire, and the land at Paington is famed for fattening
Cattle). He was remarkably impressive here. There
was a depth of conviction, a force, and a meaning in
his enunciation of his belief in.the land's capacity to
fatten bullocks, which showed how completely he had
thrown himself into his case ; and the man must have
been no other than an habitual sceptic who could have
sat and heard those words from his lips, and have har-
boured even a lurking doubt that bullocks of any ex-
traction, or of whatever previous habits of indul-
ssence both could, and were the choice given them
[amid have gorged themselves to repletion on the nu-
tritious pasture in praise of which he made this power-
ful appeal. The bidding is at its height, and he
throws in a little episode about the chalybeate which
" only wanted encouragement, and Harrowgate and
Leamington would have to hide their diminished heads."
fie takes a sip of the coloured water. A meek man
in the centre begs to know why the timber was .not
mentioned in the catalogue? The auctioneer affects
incredulity, but finds, on inspection, that the impor-
tant article in question has been omitted. He makes
the acknowledgment; but, instead of apologising for
the oversight, retaliates upon his inquisitor for his pre-
sumption, by telling him plainly he is now expected
without equivocation to become the fortunate pos-
sessor. The auction advances, and with every new
offer he finds fresh matter for.. dissertation. He
alludes to the contiguity of the railroad, and com-
ments with infinite force upon the luxury of
coming up to town, a distance of 100 miles, and
going home to an eight o'clock dinner every day,
which our poor forefathers could never have believed
to be possible ; and although this topic of wonder-
ment, and the concomitant sneer at the past genera-
tion for only discos-cring -principles of science and
leaving to posterity the superior credit of their appli-
cation, is somewhat threadbare, in his hands it loses
all its monotony, and positively smacks of originality.
In proclaiming, also, the proximity of a church, ho
prettily confessed his faith in- the utility of churches
in general, the convenience of having them near ono's
residence, and the value of a religious reputation in
the long run to respectable members of society. He
half promises a seat in Parliament at the small ex-
pense of a princely hospitality, and on the same terms
wholly promises the acquaintance of the solicitor ofi
the place, who happens to be 'then at h;s -elbow, and
Jll whose heart, integrity,:and cellar he pronounces

an encomium that might have suffused with blushes
any other cheeks than those of a solicitor. There is
a pause, and he pretends to bring the affair to a close.
" Going, going —his left hand rising as he bends
e. vn wards till his chin almost touches the " conditiors
or sale," lips clenched and eyebrows expanded as at
the verge of an impending crisis. A modest-looking
gentleman enters, and all eyes are turned upon him
by a cry from the auctioneer, that if he wants a seat
in Parliament, now is his time. "Dv you guarantee
the seat ?" drily interrogates a wag, no ways interested
in the sale. " Certainly, Sir," is the reply, "if you will
condescend to buy the estate. To be or not to be ?as
one of our great poets has said "—" Gay, in The
Beggar's Opera," again interpolates the daring wag,
ambitious of fairly measuring wits with so distin-
guished a humorist. A burst of laughter gives the
auctioneer breathing-time for adducing the name of
his author, and he then turns upon his victim with a
volley of merciless raillery, which annihilates his
courage and his fancy at a blow. Other interruptions
occur, which he encounters with the same bold front
as before, and adding, that nothing pleases him more
than to he asked questions, as he knows they are al-
ways the prelude to a fresh bid, he traverses his
ground again, and sums up with a declaration that the
spot defies description—that it is fit for a little em-
peror—that there is a richness and a grandeur, to-
gether with a quietude and a repose about it, which,
in all his experience, which had been considerable, he
had never seen equalled—that if it has a fault, it is
that an expenditure of money in improvements on the
little paradise were an utter impossibility ; and in fine,
that his Grace the Duke of Wellington himself might
be proud to make the place his residence.
Gifted and incomparable disposer of lands, tene-
ments, and hereditaments ! Under sway of thy omni-
potent art the very sense is quickened, the fancy
warmed, and the credulity of the most obdurate bidder
invoked, as by the spirit of a sorcerer. Thy extem-
poraneous rhetoric is not strained ; like the quality of
mercy it is twice blessed, " it blesses him that sells
and him that buys,"—
" It is mightiest in the mightiest,
And becomes the Great Auctioneer
Even better than his advertisements!"

It is now time to close; it is clear, from the
countenances in his immediate vicinity, that the
highest expectations have been realised ; all are satis-
fied, the property is appreciated, and the auctioneer
threatens to knock it down. He gives warning that
in one moment, in one solitary moment, the sacrifice
must be made.' He places his hammer to his heart,
and vows he feels that he is making a sacrifice. It
annoys him=he declares that it annoys him, and his
face assumes the look of a man stung by a musquito.
This most matchless thing of the kind—a place fit for
a little emperor—and a house that will last till the
end of the world, to be given away—" it offends him
to the soul." As he gets pathetic the nasal twang is
more palpable. He is now trying the chance of an
extra hundred. He says that as it is the doom of man
sometimes to be disappointed, so has he often in the
course of his " long experience" felt the pangs of re-
gret, hut never to the extent to which he is agitated
now. He confes.ses at the full pitch of his lungs that
" there is a reluctance in this arm to do its duty"—it
upbraidS him—it won't let him—a smile steals through
his tear—a titter commences—he reins up, becomes
ferocious, indignant, disgusted ; roars " shame" upon
the sacrilege, and then _knocks the lot down with a
polite bow to the purchaser—and a draught of the
coloured water is the cliMax.