Complete Works of R S Surtees

by R S Surtees

  “Just then, in came Mrs. B. ‘Cleopatra, my dear, here’s our old friend, Rafferty,’ said I.

  “‘What, Jack!’ exclaimed she, ‘that robbed the treasury at the Adelphi?’

  “‘ Hush!’ cried I. ‘Jack’s respectable. Encore the brandy.’

  “Well, the upshot of it was, that the next day I attended a meeting of the League at the British Hotel, in the best apparel I could muster — light blue, buff vest, drab tights, best Hessians, tartan cravat. Joey Hume was in the chair, and as soon as ever I saw that, I determined to be stiff.

  “‘Who have you there, Mr. St. Julien Sinclair?’ (for that is the name Jack goes by) — asked Joe, as we advanced to the table.

  “‘Mr. William Bowker,’ replied he.

  “‘ The same of whom you spoke at our last meeting?’ inquired Joe.

  “‘The same,’ answered Mr. St. Julien Sinclair.

  “Jack had primed me pretty well on the road what I should say, in case they examined me; but I suppose, being well recommended, or knowing it must come to that at last, they thought it better to dispense with all humbug, and having ascertained that I was perfectly disengaged, and ready to embark in the cause, they said that the Council of the League had determined to sectionize the kingdom, to enlighten the lower orders on the monstrous iniquity of the bread tax, and the great advantages of a free trade in corn. That they had been at it for some time without producing much effect, but they had now got a new dodge which they thought would tell. This was, that instead of single-handed lecturers, like Jack Rafferty, going about doing as they liked, and reporting what they pleased, that the leaders of the League should take the thing in hand, distribute themselves over the land along with ladies and lecturers, and make a regular crusade against the monopolists. Lecturers, it seems, they had not had much difficulty in getting, indeed I should wonder if they had, for eight guineas a week and one’s travelling expenses are not picked up every day — but the ladies there had been some trouble about. However, as they thought they could not dispense with the influence of the fair sex, they have accommodated matters by hiring a certain number of females who are to take superior characters, just as Jack Rafferty took the part of Mr. St. Julien Sinclair. To each lecturer, therefore, there is to be attached a leader and a lady; and the company are building a lot of Whitechapels, capable of carrying three with their luggage, and we are to be allowed ten shillings a day for a horse to pull them about. There will be suitable devices, with mottoes, such as ‘DOWN WITH THE BREAD TAX!’—’ FOOD FOR THE MILLION,’ &C., &C., along the sides of the vehicles, which are to be painted sky-blue, with red wheels, picked out with green. They will be labelled behind in statuteable letters ——

  ‘GREAT NATIONAL ANTI-CORN-LAW ENLIGHTENMENT CART.’

  “‘FORMS FOR PETITIONS SUPPLIED!’

  “I think that is all I’ve got to say, except that I hope your new purchase is to your liking, and that Mrs. Jorrocks approves of the house as much as she did of her mother’s at Tooting. Should there be anything I can do for you in town, pray let me know; and after I leave, Cleopatra or Susan will be glad to do their best for either Mrs. Jorrocks or you, to whom we all beg to present our most respectful compliments, and I have the honour to subscribe myself, — Dear sir, your humble and obedient servant,

  “WM. BOWKER, L.G.A.C.L.L.A.

  “Lecturer to the Grand Anti-Corn-Law League Association.”

  Mr. Jorrocks, it seems, had commenced a letter to Mr. Bowker, before the receipt of the foregoing. We give it entire, throwing, as it does, some light upon his opinions and movements.

  “HILLINGDON HALL.

  “DEAR BILL, — We’ve got here at last, and precious glad I was on it. Tiresome work riding three in a chay — two fat women and one’s fat self. Not that Batsay’s werry crummy; but there’s a good lot on her; and we had sich a lot o’ poleyanthus’s aboard, that I was forced either to squeeze her, or squeeze them.

  “The country is werry different to London! Lord bless ye! ’ow small everything looks. Afore we stopped at the first station, I felt I was gettin’ out o’ my element; but afore we arrived at the end of the rail, I felt quite flummoxed — all bedevilled. Thinks I to myself, ‘Now, John, you old jackass, what are you a goin’ out o’ your own line o’ life for, into a land of strangers, with never an acquaintance, and all to begin afresh? Couldn’t you have stayed quiet in Great Coram Street, with the run o’ the world before you?’ Then, a little somethin within whispered, ‘ But you loved the country, John. ‘Ampstead ‘Eath has always had great attractions for you — you love the hair of Greenwich, and Shooter’s’Ill is dear to your recollection.’ ‘True,’ said I, ‘my frind; and I minds when I started in my prentice prime I loved figs, but I soon found there was sich a thing as getting a surfeit on them.’ Howsomever, never mind — the country has its charms — cheapness for one. Fowls, three shillin’s a couple; a goose with his gizzard and all complete, four and sixpence.’ But to proceed with our journey.

  “The further we went, the stupider people got; and when we were done with the rail and got into a country inn, I think I never saw such a set of stupexes. Instead of half a little finger fatching one a coach, it took me ten minutes to drum into an ostler’s ‘ead that I wanted a po-chay and pair. O dear, then came sixteen miles of dusty roads, sultry weather, and fat women. I shall never forget it. How-somever, we got here at last; and certainly, though frightfully retired, the place is pretty. It will take us some time to get all square, for most of the furniture was sold, and there’s nothin’ in two rooms but images — men with beards — men without beards — some without neckcloths — and two naked Wenuses. Folks about are monstrous purlite — will lend us anything from a warmin’-pan to a waterin’-pot. We’ve had some callers — women folk chiefly, who seem to be monstrous taken with us. They are a goodish breed o’ women hereabouts — large, well-grown ‘uns, and werry agreeable. Altogether things are better than they threatened to be, but there’s a deal o’ sameness, and the evenin’s are long. Howsomever, I s’pose we shall get used to it, and when I get started farmin’ I shall have more to do. I means to take a hundred or a hundred and fifty acres in hand, and try all the new experiments on a liberal scale — guano, nitrate o’ soder, bone manure, hashes and manure mexed, soot, salt, sand, everything in fact; shall lector on agricultur, and correspond with the Royal Society, and so on — Mr.

  Jorrocks on buck wheat — Mr. Jorrocks on clover — Mr. Jorrocks on long ‘orns — Mr. Jorrocks on short ‘orns.

  “I had written this far when your agreeable favour came to hand, and werry ‘appy I am to hear of your luck. If the Leaguers have wot they say (£50,000), you are in for a good thing, but I don’t believe it — I think it will prove like a lady’s fortin’, or the dirty dandy’s shirts, who began to count at twelve and went up to fourteen — they may have £5000 or £6000, and an O is soon added. I’ve lived a long time in the world — a liberal sixty, let us say — and I never found money to be had for axin’ — certainly not from our party, though I believe the Tory calves bleed sometimes. Howsomever, never mind; £5000 or £6000 will take a deal o’ spendin’, and if you manage matters well, you’ll get them to make another whip when that’s gone. The question is better nor the nigger one in some respects, and worser in others. It is better for the subscribers, because they are adwenturin’ their money for summut that may profit themselves; but then, on the other hand, it choaks off the whole host of grievance-’unters who are only to be moved by imaginary and inwizible wrongs.

  “In the language of botoney, to which Mrs. Jorrocks is now dewotin’ herself, pure philanthrophy is a bush of curious growth. Its tender leaves expand at the pictor of a great naked nigger claspin’ his ‘ands with ‘Am not I your brodder?’ comin’ out of a scroll in his mouth, and yet close at the sight of a needy relation comin’ to ax for a little golden hointment. Old women, love-sick damsels, and ringey, ringlety, guitar-playin’ youths, are the great supporters of ‘umbuggeries of all sorts; but then it must be
a real useless object to enlist their sympathies — a subscription for a Sunday-school on the ivory coast, or a communion service for a chapel among the Copper Indians. Bread is too homely a subject. Wot sentiment is there in a great barley ‘ loaf? My maid Batsay would be shamed to be seen givin’ a yard o’ bread to a beggar if there wasn’t a great ‘ slice o’ beef below. There’s where I think the Leaguers will be leaked. They can’t show a clear case of sheer uselessness; but, on the contrary, there are some strong symptoms of utilitarian self-interest. Who’s to be benefited? The Leaguers themselves. There’s the rub! Will you get Mrs. Sympathizer Green or Miss Puritana Brown to come down with the mopusses to benefit Cobden and Co.? I think not. P’raps you’ll say the Leaguers don’t want their mopusses — only their tears. Who are they to be shed for? The labourin’ classes? Not they! The labourin’ classes don’t want them. Bull, as you say, is a great hobstinate beast, but he has some gumption notwithstandin’. This mornin’ I walked up the street of our town, dressin’-gowned and slipper’d à la Margate, just to appetize a bit afore breakfast, and there I fell in with a man called ‘Ercules Strong, a-shovlin’ on stones with a spade and a barrow. ‘Mornin’,’Ercules,’ said I. ‘Mornin’, Squire,’ said he. ‘Hardish work that,’ said I. ‘Middlin’,’ said he, diggin’ the pickaxe into the heap. ‘Vot do ye get a day?’ said I. ‘Half-a-crown,’ said he. ‘That’s a good deal,’ said I. ‘Had three shillin’ last year,’ said he. ‘How came they to reduce ye?’ axed I. ‘Things fell in price,’ said he, ‘and half-a-crown goes as far this year as three shillin’ did last.’

  ‘Then the price of labour’s regulated by the price o’ wittles, is it?’ axed L ‘Undoubtedly,’ said he.

  “Now, supposin’ Cobden (who keeps a print-mill, or print-works, or somethin’ o’ that sort) employs two or three ‘undred’ Ercules Strongs, it’s clearly his interest (on the ‘grab-all-I-can’ system) to get the price o’ wittles reduced, because then he can get his ‘Ercules Strongs so much cheaper, and pocket the difference. Time was when the motto of an English merchant was, ‘Live and let live,’ but them was antiquated days. These are the ‘get-rich-in-a-hurry’ times.

  “P’raps Cob will say, ‘Oh, but then if I get my ‘Ercules Strongs at sixpence a day less, I shall be able to let you have my devil’s dust goods, or dads, cheaper.’

  “I doesn’t believe that either. I mind, when the leather tax was taken off, sayin’ to my bootmaker, ‘Now, I s’pose I shall get shod cheaper.’

  “‘Why, sir,’ said he, ‘the fact is, I was jest a-goin’ to raise the price o’ my boots, so this reduction will enable me to keep them as they were.’ –

  “Cob would jest be a-goin’ to do the same with his devil’s dust bads, I guess.

  “I don’t think you can bam the lower orders about bread. The Bull niggers with nothin’ but a bishop’s apron on, supplicatin’ for mercy with chained and uplifted ‘ands, aided by Mrs. Sympathizer Green and Miss Puritana Brown, was a fine subject, because there was summut left to the imagination; and as Tommy Moore or some other popular and poetical gentleman says:— ‘Disguise thyself as thou wilt, still, slavery! still thou art a bitter draught; and though thousands in all ages have been made to drink o’ thee, thou art no less bitter on that account.’ But a fourpenny loaf sets Apollo and the Muses to flight, jest as Binjimin has set a flock o’ crows off my front field.

  “‘Disguise thyself as thou wilt, still, Cobden,’ say I, ‘still thou art a great ‘umbug; and though, thousands may roll into your beggin’ bag, the poor will never eat cheaper on that account.’

  “It arn’t a bad dodge, but I don’t think it’ll do. There is no elbow-room for the imagination, and the purpose o’ the promoters is too apparent on the face on it. It will require a deal o’ sleight o’ tongue to make Bully believe you’re a-workin’ for his good. If I was to adwise the workin’ classes, I’d say, ‘Don’t you sign no petition nor nothin’ o’ the sort, unless your masters will hire you for sivin years sartin at present wages.’ Ay, Cobden, wot say ye to that? In short, this is not a good genuine ‘ome-brewed grivance, frothin’ up at the bung-’ole of discontent, but a sort of sea-kaley, hothouse, forced thing; a thing that requires mexin’ and stirrin’ about with a spoon like a seidlitz pooder. No offence to the lectorers in course, who I’m sure are anything but spoons.

  “But I’m a deviatin’ from my text, which ought to be congratilations to you for bein’ taken up by the League, instead of denouncin’ the ‘umbuggery of its ways. In course you, as a traveller o’ the concern, will do your best to further its interests — and feather your own nest.

  “So shall you better yourself, and secure the everlastin’ esteem of — Yours to serve, — JOHN JORROCKS.”

  CHAPTER VI.

  THERE SHALL THE flocks on thymy pasture stray,

  And shepherds dance at summer’s op’ning day.”

  — PLEASURES OF HOPE.

  SMALL as Hillingdon appeared after London, and insignificant as were the shops, Mr. Jorrocks soon found that he could get most things he wanted. There were two tailors’, three shoemakers’, a milliner’s, a straw-bonnet maker’s, two inns or public-houses, where they sold grocery, woollen and linen drapery, hats and hardware, or exchanged them with the farmers for poultry, butter, and eggs; also a beggarly beer-shop, a butcher’s, and a bull’s-eye or lollypop confectioner’s. Besides these, of course there was the doctor’s — Dr. Claudius Sacker — with his white house and green rails, and name properly emblazoned on a bright brass plate, with a “night bell” pull in the doorpost. Most of the cottage property belonged to Mr. Jorrocks; indeed, the extreme neatness of the buildings, with their old gables, and rose-trees, woodbine, or ivy creeping up the thatches or stone roofs, or apricot or pear trees nailed against the fronts, plainly bespoke which were included in his purchase and which were the property of other individuals. There was an air of substantiality about all the Westbury — now the Jorrocks property.

  Of course it was the interest of the new landlord to encourage his own people, and accordingly Mr. Jorrocks set about giving an order to each. His swell London clothes he soon found to be inconvenient and unsuited to the country; and in lieu of his fine blue coat and brass buttons, and buff waistcoat, he devised, in conjunction with Tommy Rumfit, his tailor, a new article of dress, which he purposed calling the Jorrockian jacket.

  John Brick, one of the’ mercantile publicans aforesaid, having imported a piece of the queer-figured cotton velvety ‘looking stuff that we see ladies making gowns of, Mr Jorrocks determined to adopt it as the material for his dress, and accordingly had the requisite quantity, with trimmings, cut off, and sent to old Rumfit’s. The colour, we should observe, was brightish brown, with a fine light sea-weedy sort of pattern shot through — indeed, we are not sure but it might have been meant to represent wheat-ears — like Sir Robert Peel’s present — though the word “free” was not apparent in any part of it.

  Well, this was cut and contrived into something between a jacket of modern and a jerkin of olden times. The collar was a mere hem, turned up; it did not half cover the nape of his great bull-neck; Mr. J. was terribly thick about the throat — a sad sign of want of breeding. The jacket, or garment, was double-breasted, with slanting pockets on each breast, with very full straight laps meeting, or rather folding over, in front, and reaching about half-way down his thighs. A row of buttons enabled him to fasten them in front. In each lap-front were two tiers of diagonal pockets, the pocket-mouths — for holes would ill describe their proportions — being edged with nut-brown velvet, and the upper-storey ones a size or two smaller than the lower. In these he purposed carrying his hands, halfpence, and trifles of that sort; while the lower ones were for his handkerchief, hand-saw, books, and other bulky articles. The back of the garment presented a most extraordinary aspect. There were no buttons at the waist, nor indeed anything to denote where the small of his back would have been — if small he had had any — but just about his girth the garment swelled out as if infla
ted. Two downward folds, indeed, there were, and a line of buttons up the middle, as if the laps were buttoned together, but this was all deception — or rather attempt at deception — for it was apparent to the commonest observer that the garment was of a piece all round. Such

  “Peel” or Ancoat Vale velvet. it was, however, and being made entirely out of Mr. Jorrocks’s own head, of course let him have the credit of it; and such of our readers as think it becoming, we dare say are at liberty to copy it — as he has not yet gone to the expense of a patent. The waistcoat was of the same material, with large flaps without any pockets; and his lower man was clad in drab stockingette tights and Hessian boots. A green neckcloth, a woolly white hat, turned up with green, and a knotty little dog-whip, completed his costume. Rumfit and he thought it extremely fine, and altogether a very good job.

  Thus attired, Mr. Jorrocks mounted a most imperturbable old Roman-nosed, dock-tailed black cob that he had picked up cheap in the village, and rode about surveying his estate, looking at pigs and cows and sheep, asking foolish questions, and talking a great deal of nonsense about farming. Thanks, however, to the veneration in which townspeople, above all Londoners, are held in the country, the rustics thought some new lights must be breaking in the husbandry horizon — never imagining for a moment that the owner of so fine an estate, with such a fine open countenance of his own, knew nothing whatever of what he was talking about.

  Among the cottagers he did well enough, for he had plenty of small-talk for the old women — how many daughters they had? who they married? how many children each had? how many were bouys, and how many gals? where they got their cat? whether she was a good mouser? how the oven baked? if their water-tubs were full, how much they held? what they gave for their pig? how they were off for soap? and other little family inquiries.