Complete Works of R S Surtees

by R S Surtees

  “Gentlemen of the jury,” continued Mr. Martin Moonface, very slowly and deliberately, “Jorrocks is, to all intents and purposes, a rioter. So far back as the year 1797, if there is any truth in Chitty’s Criminal Law, a person was indicted for the ancient and apparently harmless custom of kicking about footballs on Shrove Tuesday at Kingston-upon-Thames; and surely that will bear no comparison with the military spectacles that this gentleman’s eccentricty has lately presented to the astonished county in which they took place. The law upon the case I take it to be quite clear. It says, when three persons or more shall assemble themselves together, with an intent mutually to assist one another in the execution of some enterprise of a private nature to the manifest terror of the people, whether the act were of itself lawful or unlawful — mark that, gentlemen, I pray you — whether the act were of itself lawful or unlawful, if they only meet to such a purpose or intent, although they shall after depart of their own accord, without doing anything, this is an unlawful assembly; and if after their first meeting they shall move forward towards the execution of any such act, whether they put their intended purpose in execution or not, this, according to the general opinion, is a rout; and if they execute such a thing indeed, then it is a riot. In Clifford v. Brandon, 2 Campbell, page 370, Chief Justice Mansfield laid it down, that if any person encourages, or promotes, or takes part in riots, whether by words, signs, or gestures, or by wearing the badge or ensign — mark that, gentlemen — by wearing the badge or ensign — which assuredly all the followers of this unfortunate individual did — to wit, scarlet coats with blue collars — he is himself to be considered a rioter; for in this case all are principals. So that you see Jorrocks has not only placed himself in jeopardy, but all those whose wildness, weakness, or wickedness, induced them to join the phalanx round his standard.

  “What was the cause of its supineness I know not, but government certainly permitted these outrages; and during the whole of last winter, up to the very outburst of spring, Mr. Jorrocks continued this extraordinary career, without let, suit, molestation, hindrance, or interruption. During the whole of that time he never once visited the city of London, or his commercial concerns in St. Botolph’s Lane, or seemed to recollect that he had anything to attend to but these hunt-festivals or meetings.

  “The expense of the establishment is wholly incalculable, embracing, as it does, items of most miscellaneous and extraordinary description — hay, straw, corn, beans, bran, curry-combs, dandy-brushes, brooms, balls, pails, pitchforks, whipcord, coals, wood, oil, nitre, sulphur, Epsom salts, oatmeal, horse-flesh, farrier, saddler, wheelbarrows, soap, linen, and a hundred other items.

  “Nor were Mr. Jorrocks’s eccentricities and extravagances confined to the day-time. I am instructed that public dinners were held, at which he was in the chair, avowedly for the purpose of promoting and organising these illegal meetings; speeches were delivered in praise of them, songs were composed in honour of their doings by day, and night brought no rest to the unquiet spirits that reigned triumphant at Handley Cross.

  “Spring, it appears, puts an end to these hunt-festivals or meetings; and one would naturally infer, that with the close of them would end the tom-foolery of the business. Not so with Mr. Jorrocks. He convened a public meeting of all the disorderly inhabitants of Handley Cross, and delivered a speech or lecture in praise of himself and his doings, and in eulogy of the unaccountable amusement that has brought him into this unhappy position. It is true that other matters were mixed up in his speech; but the very jumble of which it was composed bears evidence of a highly disordered imagination, and he stated that his feelings on the point were too acute to admit of his adhering closely to the text he had prescribed for his oration.

  “After this, Mr. Jorrocks returned to his house in Great Coram Street, and resumed his attendance in St. Botolph Lane with his former punctuality, to the great joy of his friends, who began to flatter themselves that he had fairly got over his frenzy; when, unfortunately, it broke out with redoubled violence. The first symptoms of it were visible on the morning of the 2nd of October. He had been taking his usual ride in the Regent’s Park, when the sight of some black and blighted dahlias, hanging their heads, and drooping in all directions, completely upset his philosophy. It was not the sudden destruction of these bright and many-coloured beauties that struck the feeling chord of a too sensible imagination, and conjured up mournful reflections on the precarious tenure of all earthly endearments, for far different, I grieve to say, were his thoughts on that occasion. ‘Hurrah! blister my kidneys!’ exclaimed he in delight, ‘it is a frost! — the dahlias are dead!’ Gentlemen of the jury,” continued Mr. Martin Moonface, throwing up his arms, and putting himself in the attitude of a spread eagle, “can you imagine a sane man indulging in such an exclamation on such an occasion? ‘Hurrah! blister my kidneys! it is a frost! — the dahlias are dead!’ And so, because Jenkins’s dahlias were cut down by the frost, Jorrocks saw cause to rejoice at the circumstance — unfortunate individual!”

  “You are another indiwidual!” roared Mr. Jorrocks, in a rage at being considered a subject for Mr. Martin Moonface’s pity.

  [The commissioners interpose with great gravity, amid the uproarious laughter of the spectators; and Mr. Jorrocks eyes Mr. Martin Moonface as though he would eat him.]

  “Well, then, gentlemen of the jury, as I was observing, the sight of these weather-stricken dahlias had such an effect upon his imagination — and awful, indeed, is it to contemplate such a visitation — that instead of pursuing his ride, as he was wont to do, one-and-twenty times round the inner circle, he immediately turned his horse’s head towards home, ate a hurried breakfast, and set off by the Lilywhite-sand Railway for Handley Cross, without giving the slightest intimation to his poor distracted wife, whose feelings may be imagined but can never be described, and without sending any notification whatever to his partners in St. Botolph Lane. Three bills of exchange, to a large amount, were presented for payment that day, one being for oatmeal supplied at Handley Cross, of which his partners knew nothing; and the consequence was that a protest became necessary, to the injury alike of his private character and his mercantile reputation. True it is that the following day he wrote a few hurried lines, ordering his servant, Benjamin Brady, to be sent down; and I will now proceed to relate the purpose for which he wanted him, and it is hence that the present inquiry more immediately originates. It appears, that by some unaccountable mystery the sight of these withered dahlias had conjured up recollections of the hunt-festivals of the previous winter, and, determining to eclipse all his former doings, he had gone down to Handley Cross to inspect a numerous progeny of puppies that he had had scattered about the country, which he intended to add to the extensive retinue of the previous season, and which a man he has in his pay, called Pigg, had been left in the charge of.

  “On his arrival at Handley Cross, it appeared that a disease had broken out among the horses of that place, which ended in the deaths of very many. Among others, Mr. Flasher, the gentleman coachman of the Handley Cross ‘True Blue Spankaway,’ lost eighteen; Mr. Giles Eden, a post-master, lost ten; Mr. Duncan Nevin, four; and various other people lost smaller numbers, amounting, in the aggregate, to fifty-three. Now it would appear, so far as any deduction can be drawn from the conduct of individuals in the unhappy state of this unfortunate gentleman, that on leaving home it was his intention to return either the same or on the following day; but, hearing of the deaths of these horses had altered his determination, and he resolved to endeavour to turn the misfortunes of others to some advantage to himself; and, certainly, he adopted a system that no one but himself would ever have thought of. He commenced a negotiation with the owners of the dead horses — fifty-three in number, I beg you to remember — and bought up the whole at an average of nine shillings and sixpence a-head, hide and all. And, gentlemen of the jury, what do you think he did with them? — buried them under apple-trees? — retailed them to cat’s-meat mongers? — dragged them away to distant
places to rot without tainting the air? No such thing! He skinned and stacked them for winter use! — actually stacked the dead bodies of fifty-three horses that had died of disease in the precincts of the town of Handley Cross! Was there ever such a thing heard of? I ask, was, it likely such a thing could be tolerated? Certainly not! The authorities — the churchwardens, overseers, constables, &c., interfered — a fracas took place between them and Mr. Jorrocks and his men, while in the act of stacking, which ended in the stackers being captured and taken before the magistrates of Handley Cross. The sequel of the story it is needless to trouble you with. Your intelligent minds cannot require more than evidence of the facts I have imperfectly laid before you to enable you to arrive at the only conclusion that is open on such an occasion. Remember, gentlemen, this is not a case entailing on any party the infliction of punishment from the law; it is a simple question of domestic policy, performed in public, for the safety of the subject. We ask you to save this unfortunate gentleman from himself, and from the consequence of his own acts — in fact, to save him from ruin, and keep him in affluence. After the patient attention with which you have honoured me, I cannot for a moment doubt that the circumstances I have related have made the impression on your minds that they must have made on the minds of every one open to conviction; and though you might not consider the exhibition he made of himself as master of the hunt revels, the profligate expenditure of his substance in support of his fictitious dignity, the tenor of his lectures, taken singly, of sufficient weight to warrant you in depriving him of the management of his affairs, yet, collectively, that they are amply sufficient, even without that great, that crowning feat of all — the stacking of dead horses — to the danger of the lives of Her Majesty’s liege subjects.

  “With your permission, then, I will proceed to call witnesses to substantiate the statements I have made.”

  The commissioners here intimated they would like to retire for a few minutes; and during their absence, the court became a scene of great uproar, Mr. Jorrocks protesting at the top of his voice against the whole proceedings, inquiring most emphatically—”’Ow vas I to know, wen I stacked the ‘osses, that it was a goin’ to turn ‘ot weather again?” The return of the commissioners restored silence, who having got settled in their seats, Mr. Moonface, with great dignity, exclaimed, “Call Tony Lumpkin;” whereupon a diminutive apology of a man skipped into the witness-box, and, being sworn, proceeded to give evidence, of which the following is the material outline: — Is a tailor at Handley Cross and Cranbourne Alley, London; has had an establishment in the former place about three years. Remembers Mr. Jorrocks’s entry into Handley Cross when he came to take possession of the hounds, and heard his speech from the balcony at the Dragon Inn — understood the general purport of it, but not the detail. Made him a sky-blue coat lined with pink silk, and two pair of canary-coloured shorts; also changed the green collar of a scarlet coat into a blue one — understood the green collar was the costume of some other hunt. Often saw him going out with the hounds, but never accompanied him — has no curiosity that way. Might have forty or fifty dogs with him at a time, of different colours — prevailing colour, he thinks, was drab — there might be some buff ones among them.

  Cross-examined. — Had a quarrel with Mr. Jorrocks after he made the clothes; not because Mr. Jorrocks considered them ill-made, but because he insisted on witness going out to hunt. Cannot ride. Was paid for the clothes, less the discount. Did not consider Mr. Jorrocks insane because he paid for them. Never said he was cracked or insane. Made sky-blue coats and canary-coloured shorts for many other gentlemen. Perhaps thirty or thirty-five others. Some paid, some didn’t — lived in hope. Some of the hounds might be blue. Thinks there were no green ones among them, but is not sure.

  Re-examined. — Might have said Mr. Jorrocks was flighty. Meant that he rode fast; not that he was mad.

  Miss Sniffle, a maiden lady, was next sworn. — Lives at Handley Cross, and has done so for the last twelvemonth, for the benefit of the waters. Keeps a pony chaise and a boy to drive it. Boy wears a gold band, and a red stripe down his trousers; many buttons like peppermint-drops. Remembers the 13th of December; was coming along the Appledove Road, and met an immense procession; many men in scarlet, some in black, but most in scarlet; was dreadfully alarmed. There might be an hundred horsemen; never saw such a sight in her life. Mr. Jorrocks rode second in the procession. A man in a black velvet cap and a scarlet coat rode a little in advance of him. Mr. Jorrocks wore a broad-brimmed hat. Did not see the hounds; might have been there without her observing them.

  Cross-examined. — Was staying at Handley Cross for the benefit of the waters, she said, not for the benefit of a husband; does not want one. Is on her oath, and swear she was dreadfully alarmed. Was alarmed at the whole thing, not at Mr. Jorrocks’s winking at her as she passed. Did wink at her certainly. Swears she did not drive in that direction to meet the hounds. Could have turned back when she saw them coming, but her presence of mind forsook her. Would not say whether she had ever been forsaken before or not. Never said Mr. Jorrocks was mad. Came there to state her alarm. Would be alarmed at a herd of cattle. Open to alarm generally.

  Re-examined. — Had heard Mr. Jorrocks was deranged. Thinks her maid told her first. Believes Miss Dumpling’s maid told her maid, or Miss Freezer’s maid told Miss Dumpling’s maid, who told her maid. Might have said she thought his attics badly furnished. Meant it in the literal sense, if she did say so.

  Peter Savoy, market-gardener and green-grocer, sworn and examined. — Lives at Mountjoy, five miles from Handley Cross, where he occupies garden ground and a field or two. Remembers the 24th of December. Mr. Jorrocks’s hounds met at the toll-bar on the Cadby road. Witness was working among his winter cabbages, when his attention was attracted to the cry of dogs, which grew louder and louder; presently three or four entered the garden at the east end, near where there is a watering-place for cattle, and almost at the same moment a loud crash among the glass at the other end attracted his notice, and he saw a man in a black cap and scarlet coat, and a brown horse, over head in a melon-frame. Ran to take the man for the trespass, and seized him by the collar, when the man struck him a violent blow in the face and made his nose bleed. Mr. Jorrocks, who had come up in the meantime, stood erect in his stirrups, looking over the fence just by the melon-frame, encouraging the man, and blowing a horn to drown his cries for assistance. Has no doubt whatever he would have been killed but for the timely arrival of help.

  Cross-examined. — The man was not on the horse when he saw them in the melon-frame. Would appear to have thrown a somerset, and parted company in flying over the fence. Will swear it was a man and not a boy. The blow was heavy and stunned him. Mr. Jorrocks appeared to be encouraging him, crying, “Have at him my beauty! have at him, my darling!” and blowing his horn. Never told Tom Straw, the ostler at the Dragon, that Mr. Jorrocks kept crying, “Go it, Binjamin! Go it, Binjamin!” Was not present at the meet of the hounds in the morning. Never was at one. Had never either hunted or gambled in his life. The melon-frame was much injured. Had not been paid the damage in full. The account was disputed. If it had been discharged, does not know that he might have been there. Will not swear that he was in fear of his life. Had had many conversations with Mr. Jorrocks on the subject of the melon-frame, but never could obtain any final satisfaction. Does not know what the hounds were after, or that a fox had passed through his garden. One of the objections Mr. Jorrocks made to pay the price he set upon his melon-frame was, that the witness had lost them the fox by stopping his man. Should say Mr. Jorrocks was not “all there,” though he would not go so far as to say he was mad.

  James Greenwood. — Is one of the keepers of the Regent’s Park. Lives at the Park Crescent Lodge, and the inner circle is within the bounds of his jurisdiction. Knows Mr. Jorrocks well, and has been acquainted with him for many years — perhaps ten or a dozen. Mr. Jorrocks has been in the habit of riding in the inner circle all that time, almost every mornin
g throughout the summer season. Generally comes in about seven o’clock, getting on a little later as the autumn advances. Canters round and round, perhaps eight or ten times, and then walks his ‘oss away. Witness has often conversed with him; generally before he began cantering, or after he was done. The canter might have been a gallop. Does not know the difference. Had never received any complaints against Mr. Jorrocks for furious riding. Once had a complaint against him for winking at a nursery-governess. Believes he winks at the nursery-maids; but witness does not consider it any business of his. Their conversation is generally about dogs and ‘osses. Understands he has a great collection of dogs somewhere. Once offered witness a mount to go out with the Surrey; but witness cannot ride. Considers Mr. Jorrocks a very agreeable gentleman. Remembers him once riding his ‘oss into the ring with a blanket under the saddle. Told witness the ‘oss had the tic-douloureux. The blanket was folded when he entered the ring, but Mr. Jorrocks let it down about the ‘oss’s sides before he began to canter. Remembers the morning of the 2nd of October. There had been a sharp frost during the night, and the leaves of many of the shrubs had changed colour in consequence. It was a fine bright morning, and Mr. Jorrocks overtook him on the bridge by the Archery ground, as witness was on his way to the inner circle. They began talking about the frost. Mr. J. thought it had not been so severe as witness represented. Witness showed him a cherry-tree, the leaves of which were quite red, also a purple beech that had turned copper colour. Mr. Jorrocks seemed much pleased, and as they entered the circle he exclaimed, as he looked over the nursery-ground palings, “Hurrah! blister my kidneys, it is a frost! the dahlias are dead!” Did not continue his ride, but after a pause of a few seconds gave witness half-a-crown, and cantered away. Had not seen him again until he met him on the stairs of this court.