Question

As the narrator, make a diary entry about the tight corner you faced at Christie’s and how you were saved from the dire situation.

Answer 1

Thursday, 24^th June. 2021

I was lunching at a club in King James’s street. While passing along Kingstreet later, my friend suggested that we peeped in at Christie’s where an auction of Barbizon pictures was going on. The prices of the paintings were pertaining to forest scenes, pools in the evening, shepherdesses, and the regular subjects were tremendous for each ranging from two to three thousand guineas each. The remarkable thing was that nothing was sold at three figures. After watching the auction for fun for a while I found myself bidding.

I had exactly sixty-three pounds in my account in the bank. I knew that any bidder must have a minimum of five hundred pounds in the bank to stand as security to bid for the artistic works. I enthusiastically participated in many bids as the starting price for each painting was a modest fifty to a hundred guineas. Things went on well for me for quite some time. But a cruel fate awaited me. A short red-faced man electrified the room by fixing the starting price at 4000 guineas. There was a rustle of excitement followed by terrible silence. But I found myself saying “and fifty”. The dealer looked at the opener and at the company. To my surprise and horror, the dealer shot his bolt.

My heart stopped and my blood congealed. I was in possession of the picture I did not want to buy. I was the top purchaser in the auction with just 63 pounds in the bank account. I turned to my friend for some moral support but he had deserted me to have a hearty laugh at a distance. With great alarm, I saw many other Barbizon pictures being put up and sold. The auction came to an end. The bidders stood in a queue to pay the price and collect the pictures. I stayed behind at the end of the queue as I could not recall the name of an uncle, aunt, or even a relative who could offer me 4050 guineas to buy the painting. I wished that a firing squad could give me a welcome relief by shooting me down. I preferred death to public disgrace. But something divine turned my tragedy into a comedy.

Just then one gentleman enquired if I was the gentlemen who bought “big Daubigny”. I admitted. The mediator asked if 1 could take 50 guineas for my interest and give up my claim. I would have hugged him and wept for joy of relief from the tight comer. But I had the guile/presence of mind to ask, “Is that the most he would offer?” The mediator said that there was no harm in trying for a bit more. I said, “Tell him I will take a hundred” and my friend started laughing. But when I saw the cheque for hundred guineas, I became grave, My friend said to me that it was he who brought me to Christie. I admitted, “I shall never forget it. It is indelibly branded in letters of fire on my heart”