Original subtitles

This story is about a knocker and a commode.

You'll find out what a knocker is as the story goes along.

But a commode, in the meantime, is an old English word for a chest of drawers.

Now, an absolutely top -quality Chippendale commode is an immense

Only three of these beauties have turned up at auction in this century, and all

of them came out of big English country houses.

They fetched astronomical prices.

And ever since then, it has been the ambition of every dealer and collector

find yet another of these great Chippendale commodes.

Now watch the story.

Keep us, feed us, for we have no help but thee.

Good afternoon.

I'll just get him.

Excuse me, sir. A gentleman to see you.

Hello. Welcome.

My name's Hawkins. How can I be of service?

Oh. Oh, dear.

Wrong house.

Whose house do you want?

I do apologize for disturbing you. Another time, perhaps?

God bless you.

Come to Evensong.

What do you want?

I do apologize for troubling you, especially on a Sunday.

The Reverend Cyril Winnington Boggis...

President of the Society for the Preservation of Rare Furniture in

with the Victoria and Albert Museum.

It's all on the card.

I can see that. What do you want?

I'm presently on holiday.

Travelling round as a labour of love for the Society.

Compiling an inventory of the treasures that lie hidden in the country homes of

rural England.

This wouldn't by any chance have something to do with associates.

I never do business as a socialist.

I bid you good day.

I'm not a socialist, dammit. I thought you were.

I, madam, I.

Society, cataloguing treasure, tests, all that sort of thing.

Thought you were some kind of snooper.

Oh, no, no, madam. I'm only interested in furniture, the past. Dear lady, our

glorious heritage.

But you should mistake me for a socialist. Oh, dear me.

Wait till I tell that to my sister, Lady Agatha.

Excellent horsewoman, incidentally. Rides with a Rutland.

Come in. I don't know what the hell it is you want, but come on in.

All right, Mr. Boggess, £350, the table and the chair. I don't know how you do

it, Mr. Boggess, I really don't. You do find some lovely stuff.

You know, my guess is you have a secret sauce, am I right?

No, no, no, nothing like that.

Good luck.

I keep my eyes open, of course.

£350.

You drive a hard bargain. Oh, come along, Mr. Talker. I think that's a

fair price for someone in the trade like yourself.

You'll do all right when you unload them on your rich Japanese.

Or your tame chic of Arabi, eh?

Well, it's extremely kind of you always to give me first bite of the cherry.

Oh, I say.

This is right, isn't it?

Yes, Colport, 1805.

Made for the d 'Alembert family.

Not a complete set, unfortunately.

My word, you do find some wonderful things. I wish I knew your secret. No

secret. I always pay a pretty good price for the stuff myself.

Yes, but your source, Mr. Fockish. You know, everyone in the trade would like

know how you come up with all these rare items, and so regularly.

Is that so? Well, one of these days, I'm going to find something really

spectacular.

Such as?

Well, something by Hepplewhite, perhaps.

Even some rare piece from the workshop of old Thomas Chippendale himself.

Well, I suppose you're entitled to dream.

Well, why not?

Everyone dreams, don't they? Everyone has dreams that one of these days

find some old envelope with a rare stamp in the corner of it, or find some dirty

old picture, clean it up, and find that they've got themselves a Rembrandt or a

Rubens. And I'll know at a glance.

I say that's pure Chippendale of the finest quality.

Oh, it's William Kent.

I look at the legs and the crispness of the carving, and I'll know I must be

right.

And that'll make a bit of a thread in the trade, eh? Oh, not half.

Though I'd be surprised if there were any undiscovered treasures left like

However, if you do find something, I'm one of the few traders in London who can

lay his hands quickly on a large sum of money.

In cash.

Cash, Mr. Boggis.

Good afternoon, ladies

Good afternoon.

Isn't it a lovely day?

May I ask who is the owner?

What do you want to know for?

I do apologize for troubling you, especially on a Sunday.

This is the idea of preservation.

I can't make head or tail of this.

What exactly might you be wanting?

I'm presently on holiday, travelling round in a labour of love for the

compiling an inventory of the treasures that lie hidden in the country homes of

rural England.

What?

I'm making a list of hitherto undiscovered rare furniture.

Oh, we haven't got none of that. No, you're wasting your time.

No, just one minute, sir.

The last man who said that to me was an old farmer in Sussex.

And when he finally let me into his house, do you know what I found?

A dirty -looking old armchair worth 400 pounds.

I was able to show him how to sell it.

And with the money, he was able to put down a deposit for a new tractor.

What on earth are you talking about, Parson?

There ain't no chair in the world worth...

400 pounds. Excuse me. You mean all you want to do is to come inside, stand in

the middle of the room, and have a look around? Exactly.

And if you should have any treasure, I could write about it for the Society's

magazine. And should there be something to which I took a great fancy, and it

wasn't beyond my modest means, I might even be tempted to make you a small

offer.

But, of course, alas, that very rarely happens.

Suppose there's no harm in him having a look around.

If that's all you want.

That's all I want.

Great. Follow me.

Thank you.

I'm a farmer's son myself.

We've got some nice chairs upstairs.

Oh, thank you. This is

the only room with any proper furniture, isn't it?

Someone's upstairs.

Come on, lads. Let's get them chairs and show the parson.

Thomas Chippendale.

Parson, you've seen something like that, eh?

My heart. I can't breathe.

Come on out.

Put your head between the knees. Come on.

Down you go.

Are you all right, Parson?

It looked as if you'd seen something.

Seen something?

We thought perhaps you'd seen a treasure or something like that. No, no, it's my

heart. It happens now and again. It goes away quite quickly, though. I'll be all

right in a moment.

I'm better already, thank you.

Let's see now, the chairs.

Oh, made in the 1900s, I'm afraid.

A nice little oak desk.

Yes,

but not old enough to be of any value, I'm afraid.

That cupboard, not unattractive, but again, not valuable.

This little chest of drawers now might be worth it.

A few pounds, I dare say, but no more.

Rather a crude reproduction, I'm afraid. Probably made in Victorian times.

Did you paint it white? No, no, young Bert done it. Very wise move. It looks

less offensive in white. That's a good, strong bit of furniture, Parson.

I've got some wonderful carving on there.

Ah, yes.

Machine carved.

It's rubbish, I'm afraid.

Absolute rubbish.

You know what? I've just remembered. I've been looking for a set of legs,

something like those, for a long time.

I've got a rather curious table in my own little home.

A low sort of thing that people put in front of a sofa.

A sort of coffee table.

And last Michaelmas, when I was moving house, the foolish removal men damaged

the legs in the most shocking way.

I'm very fond of that table. I always keep my Bible on it and all my...

Herman notes, yes, I was just thinking, the legs on that chest of drawers might

be quite suitable. They might indeed. I could have them taken off and fixed onto

my own table.

What's your sign is you'd like to buy it? Oh, well, I'm not sure. I

might, but then again, no one's second thoughts.

No, really, I think it's all a great deal too much trouble.

It's not worth it. I think I'll leave it.

How much was you thinking of offering?

Oh, not very much, I'm afraid.

You see, it isn't even a genuine antique. It's merely a reproduction, and

very good one.

Ah, for a minute, I'm not so sure about that.

That's been up here for 20 years, and before that, it was up at the manor

I went to the auction when the old squire died.

You can't tell me that's new. No, I never said it was new. I just said that

couldn't possibly be more than about 60 years old. Ah, it's more than that, eh?

Bert? Where's that bit of paper you found in one of the

drawers underneath them old rabbit snares? That old bill.

You can't tell me that writing ain't bloody old.

Edward Montague, that was the Squire's family name, to Thos Chippendale.

Thos, that was the old -fashioned way of spelling Thomas.

A large, meogany commode table of exceeding fine wood,

very rich carved, set upon fluted legs, to...

Very neat shape, long drawers in the middle part, and two ditto on each side.

With rich cha -cha... Chase. Chase, brass, ornamentary, the whole

finished completely in the most exquisite taste.

87 pounds.

May I see?

Yes.

Exactly as I thought.

Victorian reproduction.

This is the invoice the man who made it gave to his client and made him believe

that it was a genuine antique.

You notice he doesn't say that he made it himself.

That would have given the game away.

Say what you like.

That's an old bit of paper. Of course it is, my dear friend.

Victorian. Late Victorian. I've seen hundreds of them. That was the time when

masses of cabinet makers did nothing else.

but fake fine furniture of the previous century.

Look here, Parson.

I'm not saying, as you may not know, quite a good deal about this furniture

business, but what I am saying is, how can you be so mighty sure that's a

genuine fake when you haven't had a chance to look at it underneath all that

white paint? Come over here for a moment and I'll show you.

There, do you see that?

What's wrong with it?

Well, it's processed.

Anyone can see that.

I can't. If you'll excuse me, sir, you haven't got my experience.

And my experience tells me, without the slightest possible doubt, that this wood

has been processed with lime.

Lime? Yes, that's what they use to make mahogany, that dark aged color. For oak,

they use potash salts.

And for walnut, nitric acid.

Time and trouble some mortal will go to to deceive the innocent.

It's disgusting.

You ought to be punished.

Here, just feel it. Put your fingers on it.

How does it feel to your touch?

Warm or cold?

A bit cold. Ah, you see, exactly.

It's a well -known fact that fake mahogany always feels cold to the touch.

Well, my dear friends, it's been so good of you to allow me to peep into your

little home so kind.

I only hope I haven't been the most terrible old boy.

Excuse me, Parson. You didn't say yet what you was prepared to offer.

Oh, that's quite right. I didn't, did I?

Well, you know, on second thoughts, to tell you the honest truth, I don't think

it's really worth the trouble.

I think I'll leave it.

How much would you give? What was you willing to offer, sir?

You mean you really wished to part with me? No, I didn't say I wanted to part

with you, sir. I said what were you willing to offer?

Well, shall we say ten pounds?

£10? Well, that's ridiculous, Parson. £10?

It's worth more than that in plywood, Parson. Here, look at this bill. That's

what it originally cost.

£87. It must be worth twice that now, sir. If you'll forgive me, sir, no, it

not. This £87 is the bill for a fake more than 60 years ago.

It's now worth practically nothing.

I'm so sorry.

Oh, I tell you what.

I'm feeling rather reckless, but I can't help it.

I might go up to 15 pounds. How's that?

Might get 50 cents.

But, dear man, I'm only interested in the legs.

I might possibly find a use for the jaws later on, but the rest of it, the

carcass, as your friends rightly put it, that's merely firewood, nothing else.

35. No, I couldn't. I really couldn't. It's not worth it.

And I tell you what, I'll make you one final offer, and then I really must be

going.

Twenty pounds.

It's a deal.

It's yours.

Oh, there I go again. I should never have got into this.

A deal's a deal. You can't back out now, Parson.

That's right, that's right. A deal's a deal.

Here,

Parson, how are you going to take it?

Well, I'll just drive my cart into the yard, and perhaps your kind friend would

be good enough to help me load it.

It can't be long. I'll be back in a jiffy.

Here, 20 pounds.

You did well, Mr. Rummy, getting a price up like that, you did.

Do you think you'll pay?

We won't put it in his cart, we do.

Right.

Praise my soul, the king of heaven.

To his feet the tribute ring.

Oh, a

thing

like that is going to go inside a motor car.

Beats me.

Anyhow, let's get it out in the yard, lads.

Right. Bert, get out in.

Get this into his car.

You're right, Ford.

He's going to need a van.

Parsons don't have vans.

They usually have them little Morrises.

Oh,

Mr. Stalker, you can't believe how beautiful it is.

When I first clapped eyes on it, it was like choirs of angels singing in my

head. Yes.

Yes, executed.

by the one and only Thomas himself, made with his own hand of the most exalted

period of his career.

But I can only say I didn't get it cheap.

Yes, yes, of course you can.

It's going to be known as the bogus commode after the finder. Thank you,

you. See you later.

Ah, the bogus commode.

We've been requested by the London and Provincial Antique Dealers Association

make it clear to viewers that the use of their symbol, shown in the window of

the fictional antique dealer in this program, was in no way intended to imply

that the association condoned certain dishonest practices of the antique

which were portrayed in this fictional story.