Man of Property [72]
Bleedham, very bland, and having an air of conscious virtue--as well he might, knowing that the brown-paper parcel he always brought to the Board-room was concealed behind his hat (one of that old-fashioned class, of flat-brimmed top-hats which go with very large bow ties, clean-shaven lips, fresh cheeks, and neat little, white whiskers).
Soames always attended the General Meeting; it was considered better that he should do so, in case 'anything should arise!' He glanced round with his close, supercilious air at the walls of the room, where hung plans of the mine and harbour, together with a large photograph of a shaft leading to a working which had proved quite remarkably unprofitable. This photograph--a witness to the eternal irony underlying commercial enterprise till retained its position on the--wall, an effigy of the directors' pet, but dead, lamb.
And now old Jolyon rose, to present the report and accounts.
Veiling under a Jove-like serenity that perpetual antagonism deep-seated in the bosom of a director towards his shareholders, he faced them calmly. Soames faced them too. He knew most of them by sight. There was old Scrubsole, a tar man, who always came, as Hemmings would say, ' to make himself nasty,' a cantankerous-looking old fellow with a red face, a jowl, and an enormous low-crowned hat reposing on his knee. And the Rev. Mr. Boms, who always proposed a vote of thanks to the chairman, in which he invariably expressed the hope that the Board would not forget to elevate their employees, using the word with a double e, as being more vigorous and Anglo-Saxon (he had the strong Imperialistic tendencies of his cloth). It was his salutary custom to buttonhole a director afterwards, and ask him whether he thought the coming year would be good or bad; and, according to the trend of the answer, to buy or sell three shares within the ensuing fortnight.
And there was that military man, Major O'Bally, who could not help speaking, if only to second the re-election of the auditor, and who sometimes caused serious consternation by taking toasts-- proposals rather--out of the hands of persons who had been flattered with little slips of paper, entrusting the said proposals to their care.
These made up the lot, together with four or five strong, silent shareholders, with whom Soames could sympathize--men of business, who liked to keep an eye on their affairs for themselves, without being fussy--good, solid men, who came to the City every day and went back in the evening to good, solid wives.
Good, solid wives! There was something in that thought which roused the nameless uneasiness in Soames again.
What should he say to his uncle? What answer should he make to this letter?
. . . . "If any shareholder has any question to put, I shall be glad to answer it." A soft thump. Old Jolyon had let the report and accounts fall, and stood twisting his tortoise-shell glasses between thumb and forefinger.
The ghost of a smile appeared on Soames' face. They had better hurry up with their questions! He well knew his uncle's method (the ideal one) of at once saying: "I propose, then, that the report and accounts be adopted!" Never let them get their wind-- shareholders were notoriously wasteful of time!
A tall, white-bearded man, with a gaunt, dissatisfied face, arose:
"I believe I am in order, Mr. Chairman, in raising a question on this figure of L5000 in the accounts. 'To the widow and family"' (he looked sourly round), "'of our late superintendent,' who so--er--ill-advisedly (I say--ill-advisedly) committed suicide, at a time when his services were of the utmost value to this Company. You have stated that the agreement which he has so unfortunately cut short with his own hand was for a period of five years, of which one only had expired--I--"
Old Jolyon made a gesture of impatience.
"I believe I am in order, Mr. Chairman--I ask whether this amount paid, or proposed to be paid, by the Board to the er--deceased-- is for services which might have been rendered to the Company-- had he not
Soames always attended the General Meeting; it was considered better that he should do so, in case 'anything should arise!' He glanced round with his close, supercilious air at the walls of the room, where hung plans of the mine and harbour, together with a large photograph of a shaft leading to a working which had proved quite remarkably unprofitable. This photograph--a witness to the eternal irony underlying commercial enterprise till retained its position on the--wall, an effigy of the directors' pet, but dead, lamb.
And now old Jolyon rose, to present the report and accounts.
Veiling under a Jove-like serenity that perpetual antagonism deep-seated in the bosom of a director towards his shareholders, he faced them calmly. Soames faced them too. He knew most of them by sight. There was old Scrubsole, a tar man, who always came, as Hemmings would say, ' to make himself nasty,' a cantankerous-looking old fellow with a red face, a jowl, and an enormous low-crowned hat reposing on his knee. And the Rev. Mr. Boms, who always proposed a vote of thanks to the chairman, in which he invariably expressed the hope that the Board would not forget to elevate their employees, using the word with a double e, as being more vigorous and Anglo-Saxon (he had the strong Imperialistic tendencies of his cloth). It was his salutary custom to buttonhole a director afterwards, and ask him whether he thought the coming year would be good or bad; and, according to the trend of the answer, to buy or sell three shares within the ensuing fortnight.
And there was that military man, Major O'Bally, who could not help speaking, if only to second the re-election of the auditor, and who sometimes caused serious consternation by taking toasts-- proposals rather--out of the hands of persons who had been flattered with little slips of paper, entrusting the said proposals to their care.
These made up the lot, together with four or five strong, silent shareholders, with whom Soames could sympathize--men of business, who liked to keep an eye on their affairs for themselves, without being fussy--good, solid men, who came to the City every day and went back in the evening to good, solid wives.
Good, solid wives! There was something in that thought which roused the nameless uneasiness in Soames again.
What should he say to his uncle? What answer should he make to this letter?
. . . . "If any shareholder has any question to put, I shall be glad to answer it." A soft thump. Old Jolyon had let the report and accounts fall, and stood twisting his tortoise-shell glasses between thumb and forefinger.
The ghost of a smile appeared on Soames' face. They had better hurry up with their questions! He well knew his uncle's method (the ideal one) of at once saying: "I propose, then, that the report and accounts be adopted!" Never let them get their wind-- shareholders were notoriously wasteful of time!
A tall, white-bearded man, with a gaunt, dissatisfied face, arose:
"I believe I am in order, Mr. Chairman, in raising a question on this figure of L5000 in the accounts. 'To the widow and family"' (he looked sourly round), "'of our late superintendent,' who so--er--ill-advisedly (I say--ill-advisedly) committed suicide, at a time when his services were of the utmost value to this Company. You have stated that the agreement which he has so unfortunately cut short with his own hand was for a period of five years, of which one only had expired--I--"
Old Jolyon made a gesture of impatience.
"I believe I am in order, Mr. Chairman--I ask whether this amount paid, or proposed to be paid, by the Board to the er--deceased-- is for services which might have been rendered to the Company-- had he not