Complete Works of R S Surtees

by R S Surtees

  “Do,” exclaimed Mr. Jorrocks eagerly, “and take to ‘unting instead, — make you an honorary member of my ‘unt, — far finer sport than sittin’ in a ‘ot shop with your ‘at on; “‘Better to rove in fields for ‘ealth unbought, Than fee the Doctor for a nauseous draught.”’

  Mr. Muleygrubs did not deign a reply.

  The wine circulated languidly, and Mr. Jorrocks in vain tried to get up a conversation on hunting. The professor always started his stones or Mr. Muleygrubs his law, varied by an occasional snore from Mr. Slowan, who had to be nudged by Jones every time the bottle went round. Thus they battled on for about an hour.

  “Would you like any more wine?” at length inquired Mr. Muleygrubs, with a motion of rising.

  “Not any more I’m obleged to you,” replied the obsequious Mr. Jacob Jones, who was angling for the chaplaincy of Mr. Marmaduke’s approaching shrievalty.

  “Just another bottle!” rejoined Mr. Jorrocks, encouragingly.

  “Take a glass of claret,” replied Mr. Muleygrubs, handing the jug to our Master.

  “Rayther not, thank ye,” replied Mr. Jorrocks, “not the stuff for me. — By the way now, I should think,” continued Mr. Jorrocks, with an air of sudden enlightenment, “that some of those old ancient hancestors o’ yours have been found o’ claret.”

  “Why so?” replied Mr. Muleygrubs, pertly.

  “Doesn’t know,” replied Mr. Jorrocks, musingly, “but I never hears your name mentioned without thinking o’ small claret. But come, let’s have another bottle o’ black strap — it’s good strap — sound and strong — got wot I calls a good grip o’ the gob.”

  “Well,” said Mr. Muleygrubs, getting up and ringing the bell, “if you must, you must, but I should think you have had enough.”

  “Port Wine!” exclaimed he, with the air of a man with a dozen set out, to his figure footman as he answered the bell.

  “Yes, sir,” said the boy, retiring for the same.

  “Letter from the Secretary of State for the HOME Department,” exclaimed Stiffneck, re-entering and presenting Mr. Muleygrubs with a long official letter on a large silver tray.

  “Confound the Secretary of State for the HOME Department!” muttered Mr. Muleygrubs, pretending to break a seal as he hurried out of the room.

  “That’s a rouse!” (ruse,) exclaimed Mr. Jorrocks, putting his forefinger to his nose, and winking at Mr. De Green— “gone to the cellar.”

  “Queer fellow, Muleygrubs,” observed Mr. De Green.

  “What a dinner it was!” exclaimed Mr. Slowan.

  “‘Ungry as when I sat down,” remarked Mr. Jorrocks.

  “All flash,” rejoined Professor Girdlestone.

  “I pity his wife,” observed Jacob Jones, “they say he licks her like fun.”

  “Little savage,” rejoined mr. Jorrocks, “should like to make a drag of him for my ‘ounds.”

  The footboy at length appeared bringing the replenished decanter. Mr. Muleygrubs returned just as the lad left the room.

  Having resumed his seat, Mr. Jorrocks rose and with great gravity addressed him as follows:— “Sir, in your absence we have ‘ad the plissur o’ drinkin’ your werry good ‘ealth, coupled with the expression of an ‘ope that the illustrious ‘ouse of Muleygrubs may long flourish in these your ancestral and baronial ‘alls,” a sentiment so neat and so far from the truth as to draw down the mirth-concealing applause of the party.

  “Mr. Jorrocks and gentlemen,” said Mr. Muleygrubs, rising after a proper lapse of time, and holding a brimmer of wine in his hand, “Mr. Jorrocks and gentlemen,” repeated he, “if any thing can compensate a public man for the faithful performance of an arduous and difficult office — increased by the prolixity of the laws and the redundancy of the statute-book, it is the applause of upright and intelligent men like your-selves (hear, hear). He who would administer the laws faithfully and impartially, needs the hinward harmour of an approving conscience, with the houtward support of public happrobation (hear, hear). I firmly believe the liberal portion of the unpaid magistracy of England are deserving of every encomium the world can bestow. Zealous in their duties, patient in their inquiries, impartial in their judgments, and inflexible in their decisions, they form a bulwark round the throne, more national and more noble than the coronetted spawn of a mushroom haristocracy.”

  Mr. M. waited for applause, which, however, did not come. He then proceeded: —

  “I feel convinced there is not a man in the commission who would not prefer the tranquillity of private life to the lofty heminence of magisterial dignities, but there is a feeling deeply implanted in the breasts of English gentlemen which forbids the consideration of private ease when a nation’s wants have been expressed through the medium of a beloved Sovereign’s wishes, — England expects that every man will do his duty!” continued Mr. Muleygrubs, raising his voice and throwing out his right arm.

  “Bravo, Grubs!” exclaimed Mr. Jorrocks; “you speak like Cicero!” an encomium that drew forth the ill-suppressed mirth of the party, and cut the orator short in his discourse.

  “Gentlemen,” said Mr. Muleygrubs, looking very indignantly at Mr. Jorrocks, “I thank you for the honour you have done me in drinking my health, and beg to drink all yours in return.”

  “And ‘ow’s the Secretary o’ State for the ‘Ome Department?” inquired Mr. Jorrocks, with a malicious grin, after Mr. Muleygrubs had subsided into his seat.

  “Oh, it was merely a business letter — official! A Fitzroyer in fact.”

  “Ah!” said Mr. Jorrocks, “that’s the gent to whom we’re so much indebted for reformin’ our street cabs. A real piece o useful legislation that, for the most hexperienced man in London could never tell what a cab would cost.” Mr. Jorrocks then proceeded to compare the different expense of town transit, and, with the subject apparently well in hand, was suddenly done out of it by the stone-professor on his mentioning the subject of water-carriage.

  “If geologists are right in their conjecture,” cut in the professor, “that this country has been drained by large rivers, which were inhabited by gigantic oviparous reptiles, both bivorous and carnivorous, and small insectivorous mammifera, one may naturally conclude that out-of-doors gentlemen like you will often meet with rare specimens of animal antiquity.”

  “No, we don’t,” retorted our Master snappishly. “When a man’s cuttin’ across country for ‘ard life, he’s got summit else to do than look out for mammas. That’s ’ow chaps brick their necks,” added he.

  “True,” jerked in Mr. Muleygrubs. “Then comes the coroner’s inquest, the jury, the finding, and the deodand,” observed the host. “I regard the office of coroner as one of the bulwarks of the constitution. It was formerly held in great esteem, and none could hold it under the degree of knight, third of Edward the First, chapter ten, I think; and by the fourteenth of Edward the Third, if I recollect right, chapter eight, no coroner could be chosen unless he had land in fee sufficient in the same county, whereof he might answer to all manner of people. My ancestor, Sir Jonathan Muleygrubs, whose portrait you see up there,” pointing to a bluff Harry-the-Eighth-looking gentleman in a buff jerkin, with a red-lined basket-handled sword at his side, “held it for many years. He was the founder of our family, and—”

  “Then, let’s drink his ‘ealth,” interposed Mr. Jorrocks, finding the wine did not circulate half as fast as he could wish. “A werry capital cock, and every way worthy of his line;” saying which he seized the decanter, and filled himself a bumper. “I wish he’d been alive, I’d have made him a member of our ‘unt; and who’s that old screw with the beard?” inquired Mr. Jorrocks, pointing to the portrait next Sir Jonathan, a Roman senator-looking gentleman, wrapped in a loose pink and white robe.

  “That,” said Mr. Muleygrubs, “is my great-grandfather, an alderman of London and a member of Parliament for Tewkesbury.”

  “I thought you said it was Shakespeare,” observed Mr. Jones, somewhat dryly.

  “Well,” said Mr. Jorro
cks, knowingly, “that’s no reason why it should not be his great-grandfather too; I should say our ‘ost’s werry like Shakespeare, partiklar about the ‘ead — and, if I recollects right, Shakespeare said summut about justices o’ the peace too.”

  “Tea and coffee wait your pleasure in the drawing-room,” observed the stiff-necked footman, opening the door and entering the apartment in great state.

  “Cuss your tea and coffee!” muttered Mr. Jorrocks, buzzing the bottle. “Haven’t had half a drink; Here’s good sport for to-morrow” said he, sipping his wine. “You ‘unt with us, in course,” observed he to the professor.

  “Oh, indeed, no,” said Professor Girdlestone, “that is quite out of my line; I am engaged to meet Mr. Lovel Lightfoot, the eminent geologist, to examine the tertiary strata of—”

  “Well, then,” interrupted Mr. Jorrocks, “all I’ve got to say is, if you meet the fox, don’t ‘ead him;” saying which he drained his glass, threw down his napkin, and strutted out of the room, muttering something about justices, jackasses, and fossil fools.

  Tea and coffee were enlivened by a collision between the footboys. Stiffneck with the tea-tray made a sudden wheel upon No. 2 with the coffee-tray, and about an equal number of cups and saucers were smashed. The crash was great, but Muleygrub’s wrath was greater. “Stupidest beggars that ever were seen — deserve a month a-piece on the treadmill!”

  “Weary of state without the machinery of state,” Mr. Jorrocks gladly took his chamber-candle to retire to his twopenny head and farthing tail.

  CHAPTER XLI. ANOTHER CATASTROPHE.

  NO REPROVING NIGHTMARE censured Mr. Jorrocks for over-night indulgence, and he awoke without the symptoms of a headache. His top-boots had got the mud washed off, and his red coat and drab shags stood invitingly at the bed-foot. He was soon in them and downstairs. The active magistrate was before him, however, and they met in the baronial hall.

  Mr. Muleygrubs’ costume was very striking. A little brown coat with filagree buttons, red waistcoat, white mole-skins, and Wellington boots with wash-leather knee-caps. His Britannia-metal-looking spurs, with patent leather straps were buckled inside. A large breast-pin representing Justice with her scales, secured the ends of a red-striped white neckcloth.

  “Good morning, Mr. Jorrocks!” exclaimed our J. P., with extended hand; “I fear you’ve not slept well, you are down so early; hope the bed was comfortable, best in the house, barring—”

  “O, quite comfey, thank ye,” replied Mr. Jorrocks; “only I have had as much of it as I want, and thought I’d have a turn round your place afore breakfast. It seems a werry fine mornin’.”

  “Beautiful morning,” replied Mr. Marmaduke. “‘There is a freshness in the mornin’ hair, And life, what bloated ease can never ‘ope to share;’” replied Mr. Jorrocks. “Let’s have a look at your stud.”

  They then got their hats. First they went to the stable, then to the cow-bier, next to the pig-sty, and looked into the hen-house.

  “You haven’t a peacock, have ye?” inquired Mr. Jorrocks.

  “No,” replied Mr. Muleygrubs.

  “Wonders at that — finest birds possible; my Junks is as wise as most Christians. A peacock on each of those towers would look noble,” observed Mr. Jorrocks, turning to the castle as they sauntered along the garden.

  Two or three men in blue trousers were digging away; but a garden in winter being an uninteresting object, Mr. Muleygrubs merely passed through it (by the longest way, of course), and striking into a gravel walk by the side of a sluggish stream, made a détour, and got upon the carriage-road. Here they suddenly came upon two mechanic-looking men in white aprons and paper caps.

  “Holloa, there, you sirs! where are you going?” exclaimed Mr. Muleygrubs.

  “Poor men out of work, sir,” replied the foremost, touching his cap. “Weavers, your honour — been out of work all the winter.”

  “Poor fellows!” said Mr. Muleygrubs, soothingly.

  “True, I assure you, your honour,” rejoined the other. “My comrade’s wife’s just lying-in of her tenth child, and I’ve a wife and six bairns all lying ill of the fever.”

  “Poor fellows!” repeated Muleygrubs again. “You don’t look like common beggars — S. Vs., sturdy vagrants — I. R. incorrigible rogues.”

  “Necessity’s driv us to it, yer honour — never begged afore.”

  “You’d work if you could get it, I dare say,” continued the J. P., in the same consoling strain.

  “Oh, that we would, yer honour!” exclaimed both. Mr. Muleygrubs smiled, for he had them.

  “Come along, then,” said he, leading the way to a heap of stones by the side of the carriage-road. “Now,” said he, slowly and solemnly, “mark what I say. I am a justice of the peace of our sovereign lady the Queen, charged with the preservation of the peace and the execution of the laws of this great kingdom — hem!” (The men looked blank.) “There is a hact called the Vagrant Hact,” continued Mr. Muleygrubs, “which declares that all persons who, being able to work and thereby maintain themselves and their families, shall wilfully refuse or neglect so to do, shall be deemed rogues and vagabonds, within the true intent and meaning of the hact, and may be committed to hard labour in the house of correction — hem! — Now, gentlemen,” said he, “there are two heaps of stones, hard and soft, you are both out of work — there are two hammers, and when you have broken those stones, my bailiff will measure them off and pay you for them, and thus you will get employment, and save a trip to the mill. Take the hammers and set to work.”

  “Down upon them, I think,” chuckled Mr. Muleygrubs to Mr. Jorrocks, as they returned to the house. “That’s one of the few pulls we magistrates have — I keep my avenue in repair and my walks weeded by the vagrants.”

  “But not for nothin’?” observed Mr. Jorrocks, inquiringly.

  “Oh, yes — they never work long — generally sneak off at the end of an hour or two, forfeiting what they’ve done. All these heaps,” pointing to sundry heaps of stones among the trees, “have been broken by beggars. Shall be able to sell some to the surveyors this year. Working beggars, and employing the new police about one’s place occasionally are really the only pulls we justices have.”

  “Dress the poliss up as flunkeys, I s’pose,” observed Mr. Jorrocks.

  “Just so,” replied Mr. Muleygrubs, “or work them in the garden. It’s by far the best way of disposing of the force,” continued Mr. Muleygrubs; “for you see, in a thinly populated district, where each man has a considerable range, you never know where to lay hands on a policeman; whereas, about here, they know they have only to send to his worship’s to get one directly.”

  “No doubt it is,” replied Mr. Jorrocks, adding, aloud to himself, as the bearings of the case crossed his mind, “and the best thing for the thief too. Wonders now if the beggar would let one make earth-stoppers on them — stop the thief o’ the world.”

  In the present instance the police were not of much avail, for the weavers, having seen the justice into his castle, pocketed the hammerheads and cut their sticks.

  Among the group who stood in the baronial hall waiting Mr. Muleygrubs’ return was Mr. Macpherson, the wily churchwarden of the neighbouring parish. “Taken the liberty of calling upon you to request your countenance to a subscription for repairing our organ,” said he.

  “Confound your subscriptions!” interrupted the justice— “my hand’s never out of my pocket. Why do you all come to me?”

  “We always go to the people of the first consequence first,” replied the churchwarden, in a tone more directed to Mr. Jorrocks than to Mr. Muleygrubs.

  “Very kind of you,” replied he, satirically— “kind and considerate both.”

  “The example of gentlemen in high stations has great influence,” replied Mr. Macpherson.

  “Then why not go to Sir Harry Martin?”

  “Because you are the largest landowner in the parish,” replied the Scotchman, in the same “talk-at-him” tone as before.
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br />   This was a clencher — proclaimed in his own baronial hall, in the presence of Mr. Jorrocks, as the greatest man and largest landowner in the parish, was something.

  “Well,” said he, with a relaxing brow, “put me down for a couple of guineas.”

  “Thank you kindly,” replied Mr. Macpherson, taking a horn inkstand out of his pocket, and writing the name Marmaduke Muleygrubs, Esq., J. P., 2l.2s., at the head of the first column.

  “You’d like it put in the papers, I suppose?” observed Mr. Macpherson.

  “Papers! to be sure!” replied Mr. Muleygrubs. ruffled at the question; “what’s the use of my giving if it isn’t put in the papers?”

  A Jew picture-dealer next claimed the justice’s ear. He had a kit-cat of a grim-visaged warrior, with a lace-collar, and his hand resting on a basket-handled sword.

  “Got a match for your dining-room por—”

  “I’ll speak to you after!” exclaimed Mr. Muleygrubs, hastily pushing the purveyor of ancestors aside, and drawing Mr. Jorrocks onward to the breakfast-room.

  There was a great spread in the way of breakfast, at least a great length of table down the room. A regiment of tea-cups occupied one end of the table, coffee-cups the other, and the cold game-pie was in the middle. Four loaves, two of white, and two of brown bread, guarded the corners, and there were two butter-boats and four plates of jelly and preserve.

  “Come, there’s plenty to eat, at all ewents,” observed Mr. Jorrocks aloud to himself, as he advanced to greet Mrs. Muleygrubs, and give the little Muleygrubs the morning chuck under the chin. “S’pose you’ve a party comin’ this mornin’,” continued he, looking at the cups, and then pulling out his watch; “five minutes to ten by ‘Andley Cross,” said he: “‘ounds will be here in twenty minutes — Pigg’s werry punctual.”