Complete Works of R S Surtees

by R S Surtees

  Mr. Moonface.— “The members may take all sorts of liberties with each other?”

  “Undoubtedly! cut all sorts of jokes!”

  Mr. Moonface.— “Call each other names, play tricks, and practical jokes — like the officers of the Forty-Sixth?”

  “Undoubtedly so — undoubtedly so; jokes, tricks, names — names, tricks, jokes! — just like the officers of the Forty-Sixth.”

  “And Mr. Jorrocks is the president of this society?”

  Mr. Bowker.— “Mr. Jorrocks is the president of this society.”

  “And what are the distinguishing characteristics of a president?”

  Mr. Bowker.— “All the distinguishing characteristics in the world — sits on a throne — wears the crown and robes — collar, grand order of Jerusalem — passes sentence on offenders — month in a muffin-shop — bucket of barley-water — kiss the cook — no appeal.”

  Mr. Moonface.— “And what offences do you try?”

  Mr. Bowker.— “Anything — not particular — anything to make fun — try a man for saying a good thing — try a man for saying a bad thing, — whatever comes uppermost.”

  “And this you consider intellectual?”

  Mr. Bowker.— “Pardon me, convivial.”

  “Do you admit strangers to the ‘Sublime Society?’”

  Mr. Bowker.— “On certain days — grand days, in fact, when the regalia is used — bishop’s mitre, caps and bells, and so on.”

  “And do you proceed on the free-and-easy principle with strangers?”

  Mr. Bowker.— “Undoubtedly so.”

  “Then you must astonish them a little.”

  Mr. Bowker (with a wink).— “Galvanise them!”

  Mr. Moonface.— “And pray what is the collar with the grand order of Jerusalem like?”

  Mr. Bowker.— “Gold and enamel — enamel and gold, like my lord mayor’s.”

  Mr. Moonface.— “And the order of Jerusalem, what is it like?”

  Mr. Bowker.— “Simply a Jerusalem, suspended to a collar.”

  Mr. Moonface.— “But what is a Jerusalem?”

  Mr. Bowker.— “Jerusalem — jackass! — jackass — Jerusalem!” (Roars of laughter.)

  Mr. Moonface.— “And the club has a button, I believe?”

  Mr. Bowker.— “Jerusalem button — motto, ‘Ge-o, Neddy!” (Renewed laughter.)

  Mr. Moonface.— “And where does the Wide-awake Club hold its sittings?”

  Mr. Bowker.— “At the ‘Cauliflower,’ in Cateaton Street.”

  “And what are the distinguishing features of that club? — What style of men, in fact, is it composed of?”

  “All stylish men — velvet collars, Hessian boots, kid gloves!”

  “No, I mean what class of men is it composed of!”

  Mr. Bowker.— “First-class men — merchants, bankers, private gentlemen.”

  “And Mr. Jorrocks is recorder of that society?”

  Mr. Bowker.— “Mr. Jorrocks is recorder of that society.”

  “Does he sit in state there also, in a crown and robes, with a Jerusalem round his neck?” (Great laughter.)

  Mr. Bowker.— “No; the president is chosen every evening. After a constitution is obtained, the first member that says a good thing takes the chair, and it is the duty of the recorder to enter the saying, and the circumstances that led to it, in the book.”

  “And then what do you do?”

  Mr. Bowker (after a pause).— “Drink brandy and water!”

  “And that is intellectual?”

  Mr. Bowker.— “Pardon me; convivial — convivial decidedly.

  “Then what is the intellectual portion of your entertainments?”

  Mr. Bowker.— “Oh! why when somebody sings or spouts, that is both musical and intellectual.”

  “And then you all get very drunk, I suppose?”

  Mr. Bowker.— “Pardon me; drunkenness is forbidden.”

  “Then how far may you go with impunity?”

  Mr. Bowker.— “By the twenty-first canon of the ‘Sublime Society’ of the free-and-easy club, it is enacted, that no member shall be considered drunk or liable to the pains and penalties contingent upon intoxication, if he can lie without holding.”

  Mr. Moonface.— “Then after he is incapacitated from walking, if he can lie still on the floor he is considered sober?”

  Mr. Bowker.— “He is not considered drunk.”

  Mr. Moonface. (eyeing the jury).— “He is not considered drunk.” To Mr. Bowker, “You may stand down.”

  “With all my heart;” adding as he went, “never had such a wigging in my life.”

  Our old friend Roger Swizzle was the next witness. Time, we are sorry to say — and perhaps port wine — had done little towards improving Roger’s figure and complexion. His once roseate face had assumed a very ripe mulberry hue, while his snub nose bore some disfiguring marks, called by the florists grog-blossoms. His bristly, brushed back hair was still strong, but sadly bleached, and his bright twinkling eyes were about the only features remaining as they were. Neither was his costume more becoming. His puddingy neckcloth was more clumsy, his brown coat more uncouth, his black waistcoat more stained, his drab trousers shorter, and his high-lows thicker and more developed.

  Serjeant Horsefield received him with a bow. “You are, I believe,” said he, “a medical gentleman in extensive practice at Handley Cross, and well acquainted with Mr. Jorrocks?”

  “I am,” replied Mr. Swizzle.

  “Then will you have the kindness to favour the Court with your opinion of that gentleman?”

  Roger Swizzle.— “Certainly, sir. He’s what I should call a very good fellow.”

  “No, I mean with respect to his intellect. Do you consider him of sound mind?”

  “Sound as a bell.”

  “And capable of managing his affairs?”

  “No doubt about it. — Why shouldn’t he?”

  “That’s a trump!” observed Mr. Jorrocks aloud to himself, adding, “No doubt about it.”

  Mr. Moonface then proceeded to cross-examine Roger Swizzle: —

  “You say, Mr. Swizzle,” said he, “that you are in a great way of practice; pray is it among gentlemen afflicted with Mr. Jorrocks’ infirmity?” (Mr. Moonface putting his finger to his forehead.)

  “Why, no,” replied Mr. Swizzle, “principally among gentlemen afflicted with this infirmity,” (poking his finger against his stomach).

  Mr. Moonface.— “Just so; you are what they call a diet doctor.”

  Roger Swizzle.— “I don’t know I’m sure what they may call me.”

  Mr. Moonface.— “Suppose they were to call you a ‘lushy cove,’ would there be any truth in that?”

  Roger Swizzle.— “None whatever!”

  “And yet you like your wine?”

  Roger Swizzle.— “Good wine.”

  “And what do you consider good wine.”

  Roger Swizzle.— “Two bottles of port is the best of all wine.”

  James Pigg was the last witness.

  “Now; Pigg,” said Serjeant Horsefield, “you are, I believe, huntsman to Mr. Jorrocks, and as such, have the management of his hounds and horses?”

  “Ar has,” replied Pigg, with a sniff of his hand across his nose, and a hitch of his braceless breeches.

  “And as such you have frequent opportunities of seeing and judging of your master’s conduct at home and abroad?”

  “Yeas,” drawled out Pigg. “Out a-huntin’ that’s to say.”

  “Will you now favour the Court with your opinion of it generally?”

  Pigg.— “Why, noo, ar should say he’s a varra good ard man, baith at hyeam and abroard — he gives me monny a shillin’, and money a glass o’ brandy i’ card weather, and sic like times.”

  Serjeant Horsefield.— “Ah, but I want to know more about his headpiece, you know — more how you think he manages his establishment in-doors and out.”

  Pigg.— “Why, noo, ar should say he manishes ’em
all gaily well, barrin’ that bit bowdekite, Ben; but sink him! gin ar had him, ard soon manish him.”

  Serjeant Horsefield.— “And his hounds, how do you think he manages them?”

  Pigg.— “Why, noo, ar think the hunds ‘ill be just ‘bout the warst thing he does. He’s all for stuffin’ of their bellies till they’re not fit to gan, and his back casts are parfectlie ridicklus.”

  Serjeant Horsefield.— “Well, but that is mere matter of opinion, isn’t it?”

  “Ar, but ar say it isn’t matter o’ pinion!” roared Pigg. “Ye gan and ax Payne, or Goodall, or any on ’em, if iver they mak back casts first, unless they see it fox has bin hidded.”

  Serjeant Horsefield.— “But you don’t mean to say that, because a man makes back casts first, he is necessarily mad?”

  Pigg.— “Mad, aye! ne doot! what else could he be?”

  The Serjeant looking sadly disconcerted, sat down.

  “Well, Mr. Pigg,” commenced Mr. Moonface, in a familiar tone, “and so you fill the distinguished post of huntsman in this celebrated hunt, of which Mr. Jorrocks is the head?”

  “Ar does,” replied Pigg, wondering what they were going over the same ground again for.

  Mr. Moonface.— “And if I am rightly informed, you were selected on account of your great knowledge and experience in these matters?”

  “Ar’s warn’d ye,” replied Pigg; “it wasn’t like they’d chose me because ar was a feul!”

  Mr. Moonface.— “Well, now, you told my learned friend something about back casts. Will you allow me to ask you if you think any man in his senses would make back casts?”

  “Niver such a thing! Not at first hand like; always make the head good first. Sink it! ar’s talked, and ar’s battled, and ar’s cussed wor ard maister, till ar’s been fairly aside mysel’; but the varry next time — may be, afore iver the hunds have cast theirsels — up he’s com’d, blawin’ his horn, and taken them back o’er the varry same grund, while the fox all the time was gannin’ straight away.”

  Mr. Moonface.— “And that you consider very ridiculous?”

  “Parfectlie ridicklus!”

  Mr. Moonface.— “And what no man that knew what he was about would do?”

  Pigg (vehemently).— “Niver see a thing! Niver see a thing! Ax ard Sebright, or ony on ’em. Whativer ye de, always cast forrard for a fox;” saying which, Pigg hitched up his breeches again, and rolled frantically out of the witness-box.

  The Commissioner proceeded to address the jury: —

  “This was a case of great peculiarity,” he observed, “but he thought of little difficulty, inasmuch as the main question — the existence of a most extraordinary establishment — was admitted, and the only question for them to decide was whether such an establishment was compatible with their ideas of rational life and the steady course of mercantile pursuits. If he mistook not, they were all merchants; and it was for them to say what effect one of their body, arraying himself in a scarlet coat with a blue collar; or a sky-blue coat with pink-silk lining and canary-coloured shorts; or, again, in the crown and robes of a member of the Sublime Society, with the grand order of Jerusalem round his neck, would have upon their minds. The evidence, though slightly conflicting in some parts, was, he thought, very clear; nor did he think either Mr. Bowker or Pigg had done anything towards lessening the force of it. Indeed, the latter seemed to consider the very way in which the unfortunate gentleman managed his extraordinary establishment of hounds was strongly symptomatic of incompetence.

  “There was no doubt that a man might be mad upon hunting as well as upon any other point. It was for them to consider whether Mr. Jorrocks had carried the thing so far as to amount to insanity. It was immaterial that other men were equally enthusiastic. It was no reason for permitting one madman to remain at large, that there were many others equally mad. The Court would consider their cases, and deal with them if their next of kin thought proper to bring them before it. It certainly did appear a most extraordinary pursuit for a rational being to devote himself to, in the manner Mr. Jorrocks appears to have done; and with that observation he should leave the case in the hands of the jury.”

  The jury thereupon retired, more for the sake of appearances or for having a parting crack, than from any difference of opinion as to the state of our friend’s mind.

  If indeed any doubt had existed, it would have been speedily dispelled by Hobbs, the court head-dress maker, putting himself in attitude, distending his great flobby cheeks, and exclaiming— “Fancy me in a red coat and cap ridin’ about ‘Amstead ‘eath, with a pack of ‘ounds at my ‘eels!”

  “Aye, fancy him!” exclaimed Coxon, the poulterer, who kept a trotting pony and called himself a sportsman.

  They then talked Jorrocks over.

  One knew his face, another his figure, a third his “fist,” having had a bill of his once.

  It was generally admitted that he was “respectable,” indeed, as Mr. Rounding observed, if he hadn’t been his friends wouldn’t have troubled a commission, and as Rounding’s feeding time was then long past, he got them to return into Court, where he delivered a verdict of “Insanity,” adding that “Mr. Jorrocks had been incapable of managing his affairs since he took the Handley Cross Hounds.”

  CHAPTER LXIX. BELINDA AT SUIT DOLEFUL.

  GREAT WAS THE astonishment, both at Handley Cross and in London, at the intelligence of this verdict.

  It was viewed and commented upon, according as the tastes and inclinations of the parties inclined towards mirth or took a serious turn. Some thought it quite right; others, that the jury were mad themselves. The Swizzleites and the Melloites divided, as usual. The annoyance of such a thing as a commission of lunacy is enough to drive a sane man mad; and Mr. Jorrocks’s indignant outburst and threatening conduct were construed into violence, and a removal for quiet insisted upon by the promoters of the commission. To Hoxton then he went, to the large brick house, with the pond behind, and the tall poplars before it, which stands so gloomily secluded as almost to mark itself out for such an asylum.

  Among the earliest visitors that called upon Mrs. Jorrocks from Handley Cross was Captain Doleful. Hearing of the verdict, he bethought him that something might be done in the matter of the horse, either by way of total or partial refunding; and, accordingly, he took a second-class fare by the early train of the Lilywhite-sand railway, and sought the “lovely retirement” of Great Coram Street.

  Mrs. Jorrocks received him with fervour, for she remembered his attention at the fancy-ball, and, moreover, had an idea that “Jun” had been rayther too many for him in the matter of the ‘oss.

  Both sat silent for some time, Mrs. Jorrocks heaving heavy sighs, and the captain playing with the broad crape that enveloped his newly lined old hat.

  “Sad business this, captin,” at length observed Mrs. Jorrocks, with a groan.

  “Melancholy in the extreme,” replied the captain.

  “Poor Jun! it’s a pity but he’d stuck to the Surrey — might have gone on with them for long.”

  “I don’t know that,” rejoined the captain, recollecting that he was the man who got Mr. Jorrocks to take the Handley Cross Hounds; “it would have broken out some other way — set fire to his house, perhaps, or some such thing.”

  “Oh, dear!” exclaimed Mrs. Jorrocks, who dreaded fire; “it seems like a hinterposition of Providence, that he did take them then.”

  “Been better for me if he’d set fire to his house,” observed Captain Doleful, with a ghastly smile.

  “‘Ow so?” inquired Mrs. Jorrocks.

  “I shouldn’t have been done with the horse,” replied he.

  “Ah, true!” recollected Mrs. Jorrocks; “that ‘oss business was a bad ‘un; Jun understands ‘osses rayther too well; but, howsomever, you are rich, and well able to bear it.”

  “Mr. Jorrocks is rich, too,” observed Captain Doleful.

  “He was afore he took the ‘ounds,” replied Mrs. Jorrocks.

  “Oh, bu
t the hounds couldn’t hurt him — small establishment — large subscription.”

  “I doesn’t know; it’s the ‘ounds that have done the mischief, howsomever,” replied Mrs. Jorrocks.

  “They might turn his head, but they couldn’t hurt his pocket — at least, if he has what people say.”

  “Well, I doesn’t know nothin’ about that,” replied Mrs. Jorrocks, heaving a sigh.

  “I suppose there’ll be no difficulty in the way of an equitable arrangement about the horse,” observed Captain Doleful, after a pause; “it’s hard for me to bear the whole of the brunt.”

  “I’m sure I should be werry ‘appy to do wot’s genteel,” replied Mrs. Jorrocks: “but I s’pose the Chancellor’s the person that must be applied to — he’s to keep the cash-book, I hear. Doesn’t know how he’s to understand about mexin’ the teas, I’m sure.”

  “Then you’ll give me your good word?” inquired the captain, still harping on the horse.

  “Indeed I will,” replied Mrs. Jorrocks; “I’m sure you were always most purlite to me; that fancy-ball I never shall forget.”

  Doleful grinned, and thought how good sometimes came of evil.

  “And how’s your lovely niece?” at length inquired Captain Doleful, with a feature-wrinkling grin. “This business will not defer her nuptials, I hope?”

  “Oh, I knows nothin’ about nuptials!” exclaimed Mrs. Jorrocks, an idea suddenly striking her that will develop itself as we proceed. “I s’pose you allude to Charles Stobbs?”

  “Exactly so,” replied the captain.

  “He von’t do,” replied Mrs. Jorrocks, with an ominous shake of the head.

  “Indeed!” exclaimed Captain Doleful; “I’m surprised to hear that — thought he was rich.”

  “Rich, certainly,” replied Mrs. Jorrocks; “at least he will be; but we must look to somethin’ besides riches in these matters. Stobbs von’t do.”

  Captain Doleful wondered how that was.

  “It’s a hawful responsibility wot dewelopes upon me now that poor Jun is ‘non compus,’” sighed Mrs. Jorrocks.