CHAPTER XI.
JOHNSON OF MANCHESTER.
It was about eight months after the business had been opened that acircumstance took place which gave to the firm a reputation whichfor some few days was absolutely metropolitan. The affair was atfirst fortuitous, but advantage was very promptly taken of all thatoccurred; no chance was allowed to pass by unimproved; and there was,perhaps, as much genuine talent displayed in the matter as though thewhole had been designed from the beginning. The transaction was themore important as it once more brought Mr. Robinson and MaryanneBrown together, and very nearly effected a union between them. It wasnot, however, written in the book that such a marriage should everbe celebrated, and the renewal of love which for a time gave suchpleasure to the young lady's father, had no other effect than thatof making them in their subsequent quarrels more bitter than ever toeach other.
It was about midwinter when the circumstances now about to benarrated took place. Mr. Brown had gone down to the neighbourhood ofManchester for the purpose of making certain bona fide purchases ofcoloured prints, and had there come to terms with a dealer. At thistime there was a strike among the factories, and the goods becamesomewhat more scarce in the market, and, therefore, a trifle dearerthan was ordinarily the case. From this arose the fact that theagreement made with Mr. Brown was not kept by the Lancashire house,and that the firm in Bishopsgate was really subjected to a certainamount of commercial ill-treatment.
"It is a cruel shame," said Mr. Brown--"a very cruel shame; when aparty in trade has undertaken a transaction with another party, noconsideration should hinder that party from being as good as hisword. A tradesman's word should be his bond." This purchase downamong the factories had been his own special work, and he had beenproud of it. He was, moreover, a man who could ill tolerate anyill-usage from others. "Can't we do anything to 'em, George? Can't wemake 'em bankrupts?"
"If we could, what good would that do us?" said Robinson. "We mustput up with it."
"I'd bring an action against them," said Jones.
"And spend thirty or forty pounds with the lawyers," said Robinson."No; we will not be such fools as that. But we might advertise theinjury."
"Advertise the injury," said Mr. Brown, with his eyes wide open. Bythis time he had begun to understand that the depth of his partner'sfinesse was not to be fathomed by his own unaided intelligence.
"And spend as much money in that as with the lawyers," said Jones.
"Probably more," said Robinson, very calmly. "We promised the publicin our last week's circular that we should have these goods."
"Of course we did," said Mr. Brown; "and now the public will bedeceived!" And he lifted up his hands in horror at the thought.
"We'll advertise it," said Robinson again; and then for some shortspace he sat with his head resting on his hands. "Yes, we'lladvertise it. Leave me for awhile, that I may compose the notices."
Mr. Brown, after gazing at him for a moment with a countenance onwhich wonder and admiration were strongly written, touched his otherpartner on the arm, and led him from the room.
The following day was Saturday, which at Magenta House was always thebusiest day of the week. At about four o'clock in the afternoon theshop would become thronged, and from that hour up to ten at nightnearly as much money was taken as during all the week besides. Onthat Saturday at about noon the following words were to be read ateach of the large sheets of glass in the front of the house. Theywere printed, of course, on magenta paper, and the corners andmargins were tastefully decorated:--
Brown, Jones, and Robinson, having been greatly deceived by Johnson of Manchester, are not able to submit to the public the 40,000 new specimens of English prints, as they had engaged to do, on this day. But they beg to assure their customers and the public in general that they will shortly do so, however tremendous may be the sacrifice.
"But it was Staleybridge," said Mr. Brown, "and the man's name wasPawkins."
"And you would have me put up 'Pawkins of Staleybridge,' and thusrender the firm liable to an indictment for libel? Are not Pawkinsand Johnson all the same to the public?"
"But there is sure to be some Johnson at Manchester."
"There are probably ten, and therefore no man can say that he ismeant. I ascertained that there were three before I ventured on thename."
On that afternoon some trifling sensation was created in BishopsgateStreet, and a few loungers were always on the pavement reading thenotice. Robinson went out from time to time, and heard men as theypassed talking of Johnson of Manchester. "It will do," said he. "Youwill see that it will do. By seven o'clock on next Saturday evening Iwill have the shop so crowded that women who are in shall be unableto get out again."
That notice remained up on Saturday evening, and till twelve onMonday, at which hour it was replaced by the following:--
Johnson of Manchester has proved himself utterly unable to meet his engagement. The public of the metropolis, however, may feel quite confident that Brown, Jones, and Robinson will not allow any provincial manufacturer to practise such dishonesty on the City with impunity.
The concourse of persons outside then became much greater, and anaudible hum of voices not unfrequently reached the ears of thosewithin. During this trying week Mr. Jones, it must be acknowledged,did not play his part badly. It had come home to him in some mannerthat this peculiar period was of vital importance to the house, andon each day he came down to business dressed in his very best. Itwas pleasant to see him as he stood at the door, shining with bear'sgrease, loaded with gilt chains, glittering with rings, with thelappets of his coat thrown back so as to show his frilled shirt andsatin waistcoat. There he stood, rubbing his hands and looking outupon the people as though he scorned to notice them. As regardsintellect, mind, apprehension, there was nothing to be found in thepersonal appearance of Jones, but he certainly possessed an amount ofanimal good looks which had its weight with weak-minded females.
The second notice was considered sufficient to attract notice onMonday and Tuesday. On the latter day it became manifest that theconduct of Johnson of Manchester had grown to be matter of publicinterest, and the firm was aware that persons from a distance werecongregating in Bishopsgate Street, in order that they might see withtheir own eyes the notices at Magenta House.
Early on the Wednesday, the third of the series appeared. It was veryshort, and ran as follows:--
Johnson of Manchester is off!
The police are on his track!
This exciting piece of news was greedily welcomed by the walkingpublic, and a real crowd had congregated on the pavement by noon. Alittle after that time, while Mr. Brown was still at dinner with hisdaughter upstairs, a policeman called and begged to see some memberof the firm. Jones, whose timidity was overwhelming, immediately sentfor Mr. Brown; and he, also embarrassed, knocked at the door of Mr.Robinson's little room, and asked for counsel.
"The Peelers are here, George," he said. "I knew there'd be a row."
"I hope so," said Robinson; "I most sincerely hope so."
As he stood up to answer his senior partner he saw that Miss Brownwas standing behind her father, and he resolved that, as regardedthis occasion, he would not be taunted with want of spirit.
"But what shall I say to the man?" asked Mr. Brown.
"Give him a shilling and a glass of spirits; beg him to keep thepeople quiet outside, and promise him cold beef and beer at threeo'clock. If he runs rusty, send for me." And then, having thusinstructed the head of the house, he again seated himself before hiswriting materials at the table.
"Mr. Robinson," said a soft voice, speaking to him through thedoorway, as soon as the ponderous step of the old man was hearddescending the stairs.
"Yes; I am here," said he.
"I don't know whether I may open the door," said she; "for I wouldnot for worlds intrude upon your studies."
He knew that she was a Harpy. He knew that her soft words would onlybring him to new grief. But yet he could not help
himself. Strong, inso much else, he was utterly weak in her hands. She was a Harpy whowould claw out his heart and feed upon it, without one tender feelingof her own. He had learned to read her character, and to know her forwhat she was. But yet he could not help himself.
"There will be no intrusion," he said. "In half an hour from thistime, I go with this copy to the printer's. Till then I am at rest."
"At rest!" said she. "How sweet it must be to rest after labours suchas yours! Though you and I are two, Mr. Robinson, who was once one,still I hear of you, and--sometimes think of you."
"I am surprised that you should turn your thoughts to anything soinsignificant," he replied.
"Ah! that is so like you. You are so scornful, and so proud,--andnever so proud as when pretending to be humble. I sometimes thinkthat it is better that you and I are two, because you are so proud.What could a poor girl like me have done to satisfy you?"
False and cruel that she was! 'Tis thus that the basilisk charms thepoor bird that falls a victim into its jaws.
"It is better that we should have parted," said he. "Though I stilllove you with my whole heart, I know that it is better."
"Oh, Mr. Robinson!"
"And I would that your nuptials with that man in Aldersgate Streetwere already celebrated."
"Oh, you cruel, heartless man!"
"For then I should be able to rest. If you were once another's, Ishould then know--"
"You would know what, Mr. Robinson?"
"That you could never be mine. Maryanne!"
"Sir!"
"If you would not have me disgrace myself for ever by my folly, leaveme now."
"Disgrace yourself! I'm sure you'll never do that. 'Whatever happensGeorge Robinson will always act the gentleman,' I have said of you,times after times, both to father and to William Brisket. 'So hewill!' father has answered. And then William Brisket has said--; Idon't know whether I ought to tell you what he said. But what he saidwas this--'If you're so fond of the fellow, why don't you have him?'"
All this was false, and Robinson knew that it was false. No suchconversation had ever passed. Nevertheless, the pulses of his heartwere stirred.
"Tell me this," said he. "Are you his promised wife?"
"Laws, Mr. Robinson!"
"Answer me honestly, if you can. Is that man to be your husband? Ifit be so it will be well for him, and well for you, but, above all,it will be well for me, that we should part. And if it be so, whyhave you come hither to torment me?"
"To torment you, George!"
"Yes; to torment me!" And then he rose suddenly from his feet, andadvanced with rapid step and fierce gesture towards the astonishedgirl. "Think you that love such as mine is no torment? Think you thatI have no heart, no feeling; that this passion which tears me inpieces can exist without throwing a cloud upon my life? With you, asI know too well, all is calm and tranquil. Your bosom boils with noferment. It has never boiled. It will never boil. It can never boil.It is better for you so. You will marry that man, whose house isgood, and whose furniture has been paid for. From his shop will cometo you your daily meals,--and you will be happy. Man wants but littlehere below, nor wants that little long. Adieu."
"Oh, George, are you going so?"
"Yes; I am going. Why should I stay? Did I not with my own hand inthis room renounce you?"
"Yes; you did, George. You did renounce me, and that's what's killingme. So it is,--killing me." Then she threw herself into a chair andburied her face in her handkerchief.
"Would that we could all die," he said, "and that everything shouldend. But now I go to the printer's. Adieu, Maryanne."
"But we shall see each other occasionally,--as friends?"
"To what purpose? No; certainly not as friends. To me such a trialwould be beyond my strength." And then he seized the copy from thetable, and taking his hat from the peg, he hurried out of the room.
"As William is so stiff about the money, I don't know whether itwouldn't be best after all," said she, as she took herself back toher father's apartments.
Mr. Brown, when he met the policeman, found that that excellentofficer was open to reason, and that when properly addressed he didnot actually insist on the withdrawal of the notice from the window."Every man's house is his castle, you know," said Mr. Brown. To thisthe policeman demurred, suggesting that the law quoted did not referto crowded thoroughfares. But when invited to a collation at threeo'clock, he remarked that he might as well abstain from action tillthat hour, and that he would in the meantime confine his beat to theclose vicinity of Magenta House. A friendly arrangement grew outof this, which for awhile was convenient to both parties, and twopolicemen remained in the front of the house, and occasionallyentered the premises in search of refreshment.
After breakfast on the Thursday the fourth notice was put up:--
The public of London will be glad to learn that Brown, Jones, and Robinson have recovered the greatest part of their paper which was in the hands of Johnson of Manchester. Bills to the amount of fifteen thousand pounds are, however, still missing.
It was immediately after this that the second policeman wasconsidered to be essentially necessary. The whole house, includingthe young men and women of the shop, were animated with an enthusiasmwhich spread itself even to the light porter of the establishment.The conduct of Johnson, and his probable fate, were discussed aloudamong those who believed in him, while they who were incredulouscommunicated their want of faith to each other in whispers. Mr. Brownwas smiling, affable, and happy; and Jones arrived on the Fridaymorning with a new set of torquoise studs in his shirt. Why menand women should have come to the house for gloves, stockings, andribbons, because Johnson of Manchester was said to have run away, itmay be difficult to explain. But such undoubtedly was the fact, andthe sales during that week were so great, as to make it seem thatactual commercial prosperity was at hand.
"If we could only keep up the ball!" said Robinson.
"Couldn't we change it to Tomkins of Leeds next week?" suggestedJones.
"I rather fear that the joke might be thought stale," repliedRobinson, with a good-natured smile. "There is nothing so fickle asthe taste of the public. The most popular author of the day can nevercount on favour for the next six months." And he bethought himselfthat, great as he was at the present moment, he also might beeclipsed, and perhaps forgotten, before the posters which he was thenpreparing had been torn down or become soiled.
On the Friday no less than four letters appeared in the dailyJupiter, all dated from Manchester, all signed by men of the nameof Johnson, and all denying that the writer of that special letterhad had any dealings whatever with Brown, Jones, and Robinson, ofBishopsgate Street, London. There was "Johnson Brothers," "Johnsonand Co.," "Alfred Johnson and Son," and "Johnson and Johnson;" and inone of those letters a suggestion was made that B., J., and R., ofLondon, should state plainly who was the special Johnson that hadgone off with the paper belonging to their house.
"I know we shall be detected," said Mr. Brown, upon whose feelingsthese letters did not act favourably.
"There is nothing to detect," said Robinson; "but I will write aletter to the editor."
This he did, stating that for reasons which must be quite obvious tothe commercial reading public, it would be very unwise in the presentstate of affairs to give any detailed description of that Mr. Johnsonwho had been named; but that B., J., and R. were very happy tobe able to certify that that Mr. Johnson who had failed in hisengagements to them was connected neither with Johnson Brothers, orJohnson and Co.; nor with Alfred Johnson and Son, or Johnson andJohnson. This also acted as an advertisement, and no doubt broughtgrist to the mill.
On the evening of that same Friday a small note in a scented envelopewas found by Robinson on his table when he returned upstairs from theshop. Well did he know the handwriting, and often in earlier dayshad he opened such notes with mixed feelings of joy and triumph. Allthose past letters had been kept by him, and were now lying underlock and key in his desk, tied toge
ther with green silk, ready to bereturned when the absolute fact of that other marriage should havebecome a certainty. He half made up his mind to return the presentmissive unopened. He knew that good could not arise from a renewedcorrespondence. Nevertheless, he tore asunder the envelope, and thewords which met his eye were as follows:--
Miss Brown's compliments to Mr. Robinson, and will Mr. Robinson tea with us in papa's room on Saturday, at six o'clock? There will be nobody else but Mr. and Mrs. Poppins, that used to be Miss Twizzle. Papa, perhaps, will have to go back to the shop when he's done tea. Miss Brown hopes Mr. Robinson will remember old days, and not make himself scornful.
"Scornful!" said he. "Ha! ha! Yes; I scorn her;--I do scorn her. Butstill I love her." Then he sat down and accepted the invitation.
Mr. Robinson presents his compliments to Miss Brown, and will do himself the honour of accepting her kind invitation for to-morrow evening. Mr. Robinson begs to assure Miss Brown that he would have great pleasure in meeting any of Miss Brown's friends whom she might choose to ask.
"Psha!" said Maryanne, when she read it. "It would serve him rightto ask Bill. And I would, too, only--." Only it would hardly haveanswered her purpose, she might have said, had she spoken out hermind freely.
In the meantime the interest as to Johnson of Manchester was reachingits climax. At ten o'clock on Saturday morning each division of thewindow was nearly covered by an enormous bill, on which in very largeletters it was stated that--
Johnson of Manchester has been taken.
From that till twelve the shop was inundated by persons who werebent on learning what was the appearance and likeness of Johnson.Photographers came to inquire in what gaol he was at present held,and a man who casts heads in plaster of Paris was very intent uponseeing him. No information could, of course, be given by the men andwomen behind the counters. Among them there was at present raging aviolent discussion as to the existence or non-existence of Johnson.It was pleasant to hear Jones repeating the circumstances to thesenior partner. "Mr. Brown, there's Miss Glassbrook gone over to theanti-Johnsonites. I think we ought to give her a month's notice."To those who inquired of Mr. Brown himself, he merely lifted up hishands and shook his head. Jones professed that he believed the man tobe in the underground cells of Newgate.
The bill respecting Johnson's capture remained up for two hours, andthen it was exchanged for another;--
Johnson has escaped, but no expense shall be spared in his recapture.
At four in the afternoon the public was informed as follows;--
Johnson has got off, and sailed for America.
And then there was one other, which closed the play late on Saturdayevening;--
Brown, Jones, and Robinson beg to assure the public that they shall be put out of all suspense early on Monday morning.
"And what shall we really say to them on Monday?" asked Mr. Jones.
"Nothing at all," replied Mr. Robinson. "The thing will be dead bythat time. If they call, say that he's in Canada."
"And won't there be any more about it?"
"Nothing, I should think. We, however, have gained our object. Thehouse will be remembered, and so will the name of Brown, Jones, andRobinson."
And it was so. When the Monday morning came the windows were withoutspecial notices, and the world walked by in silence, as thoughJohnson of Manchester had never existed. Some few eager inquirerscalled at the shop, but they were answered easily; and before theafternoon the name had almost died away behind the counters. "I knewI was right," said Miss Glassbrook, and Mr. Jones heard her say so.
In and about the shop Johnson of Manchester was heard of no more, butin Mr. Brown's own family there was still a certain interest attachedto the name. How it came about that this was so, shall be told in thenext chapter.