Sp D atator May 12, 1973
affairs. At one moment a surprising gem could send the bidding high up in the hundreds; the negt lot might be only a battered bit of
implausible ' repro' scarcely worthy of any bid whatsoever. There is always something a hint unpredictable about the proceedings. Even the cataloguing is far from infallible; in fact, I arrived in the middle of an altercation, between the auctioneer on his platform and his assistant down among the crowd, as to the character of the next item for sale. They were working, it appeared, from incompatible lists. Not quite the St. James's touch, of course, but in the spirit of the occasion.
Nevertheless there can be scant chance these days of picking up a treasure for a ridiculously low price. Too many sharp-eyed professionals are about, the market is too hungry, and the public is too well-informed. The search for hidden bargains now has to be conducted far afield. A gamekeeper's widow I know, who lives half-way up a mountain on a rough track leading only to miles of open moor, told me the other day that she had lately been visited by a dealer who made hopeful offers for various pieces of furniture in her cottage. But she, unsophisticated soul that she is in many respects, was not having any. she sensibly reckoned that if he were offering fifty pounds for her table she could no doubt get more elsewhere. Not, as she added, that she had the slightest intention of parting with any of her possessions
this side of the grave. However, at the auction the dealers were out for what theY, could get. I noticed that they still come in two kinds. There are the soberly-clad, discreet figures from London, and there are the more colourful types who run their own shops in pleasant country towns. These latter incline towards luxuriant beards and a somewhat Bohemian style of dress; perhaps it helps them to be a trifle conspicuous in their environment.. I was quite enjoying the general bustle and the dash of theatre which an auction evokes, and I
found myself looking speculatively at one or two items. There was a distinct stirring of the old itch to join in and carry off some bargain. Then I began to listen more attentively to the prices that were being -paid.
Grotty bits of furniture one would formerly have carried off for a shilling, ghastly Victorian paintings no one would have bought unless he fancied the fra mes, worm-eaten chairs one
would not dare to sit upon — all these, and many other bits of simi
lar junk, were attracting bids of a magnitude I could scarcely believe. When anything of any merit came up, the price was enough to , take the breath away. The bids, moreover, came from the dealers, a hard-eyed and knowing fraternity, and evidently
in full awareness of the subsequent market values. I left the
auction-room empty-handed after all. The scene may have looked much as it always did. Alas,as, with everything else, time had brought its changes..
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