Complete Works of R S Surtees

by R S Surtees

  “Yell, your Greece, and ’ow d’ye feel arter your feed?” inquired Mr. Jorrocks, sousing himself into one of the soft capacious arm-chairs with which the table was encircled. “I reckon I’ve had an unkimmon good tuck-out.”

  “Ah! I’m glad to hear you say so, Mr. — Mr. — Mr. — Jorrocks; very glad to hear you say so,” replied the Duke. “Nice dinner — good dinner — very good dinner — monstrous good dinner, indeed.”

  “And good eatin’ requires good drinkin’, I always says, your Greece,” observed Mr. Jorrocks, jingling His wine-glass against his buttons.

  “Ah, true!” exclaimed his Grace, laughing at the hint, and throwing back his white head, “good eating does require good drinking,” — so saying, he helped himself to a bumper of claret, and passed the bottles. “Here’s your good health, Mr. Jorrocks, I’m very happy to see you — monstrous happy to see you. And so you are a great fox-hunter? Glad of that — fine amusement fox-hunting — monstrous fine amusement. I remember Burke saying he would willingly bring in a bill to make poaching felony, another to encourage the breed of foxes — that he would make, in short, any sacrifice to the humour and prejudices of the country gentlemen in their most extraordinary form, provided he could only prevail upon them to live at home. Fine speech of Burke’s; monstrous fine speech.”

  “He was ‘ung for all that,” observed Mr. Jorrocks to himself, with a knowing shake of the head, as he availed himself of the opportunity of the bottles coming round again to take a “back-hand” at the port.

  His Grace then had a word or two with Mr. Tugwell and afterwards with Mr. Grumbleton, but being unable to get more than “Yes, my Lord Duke,” and “No, my Lord Duke,” out of either of them, he soon returned to his voluble neighbour, Mr. Jorrocks. —

  “You’re a great farmer, aren’t you, Mr. Jorrocks?” asked the Duke— “tell me now, have you an Agricultural Association at your place? Prize for the best bull, best cow, best ram, best two-year-old tup?” —

  “Vy, no, I doesn’t think we ‘ave, your Greece,” replied Mr. Jorrocks, “and I think if we had, they’d a been at me for a subscription — town and country’s werry much alike in that respect — never lose nothin’ for want of axin’ — I minds” —

  “Well, but you should get up an Agricultural Association,” interrupted the Duke. “Independently of the good it does in promoting neat and scientific farming, it’s a good thing for getting acquainted with the farmers — keeping your interest together — you understand. Good thing, indeed — capital good thing — monstrous good thing,” added the Duke, rubbing his hands, and laughing at his own cunning.

  “I tivig!” replied Mr. Jorrocks, with a wink. “True blue! Please yourselves, genl’men, but if you don’t please me, I’ll make you — haw, haw, haw. Rum world this we live in, your Greece — werry rum world, indeed. I’ll have a Hagricultural ‘Sociation though. President, Mr. Jorrocks — or say, President, Duke o’ Donkeyton. Wice-President, Mr. Jorrocks.”

  “Very proud of the honour, I’m sure,” replied the Duke, bowing very low, and shaking his head over his plate as though he were quite overcome—” monstrous proud indeed. But I’m getting old, Mr. Jorrocks, I’m getting old — suppose you take Jeems — it’s more in his way.”

  “With all my ‘eart,” replied Mr. Jorrocks; “he don’t look much like a farmer, though. President, the Markiss o’ Bray — Wice-President, Mr. Jorrocks — that’ll sound well, and look well in the papers too; call it the’lllingdon’Sociation, and have it at our place — dine in a tent — dance in a barn — band in open hair — school-gals to skip. Or sheep-shearin’ i’ the mornin’, tea i’ the evenin’ — ball for the ladies— ‘ands across and back again, down the middle and hup again.” Mr. Jorrocks suiting the action to the word, bumping about on his chair and crossing his arms as if he were at work.

  “Very good!” exclaimed the Duke; “extremely good! monstrous good, indeed — but you must instruct as well as amuse — encourage science, experiments, chemistry; teach them the virtue and use of manures.”

  “Guano! nitrate o’ sober! soot! and all that sorb o’ thing,” interrupted Mr. Jorrocks.

  “Farmers are a long way behind the intelligence of the day; a monstrous long way,” continued the Duke, “too much of ‘what my father did, I’ll do ‘ style about them. They want brushing up. You take yours in hand, Mr. Jorrocks — make them drain.”

  “Smith o’ Deanston! Tweeddale tile! furrow drainin’!” exclaimed Mr. Jorrocks.

  “Apply their land to proper purposes,” continued his Grace, “don’t force it to grow crops that it has no taste for — much may be done in the way of judicious management. For instance, where land won’t grow corn, try trees — much of the land in this county is too poor for agricultural purposes — would grow wood well. All the pine tribe flourish in this country and pay well for planting; very well indeed; monstrous well.” —

  “Grand things they are too!” observed Mr. Jorrocks aloud to himself, thinking of the pine-apple he’d had before dinner; “I’ll teach them a trick or two,” added he, “pine. dodge in particklar — address them— ‘Frinds and fellow-countrymen!’” throwing out his arm and hitting Mr. Thomas Chambers a crack in the eye, and so closing the conversation for the moment.

  The Marquis of Bray, not being a great man for his liquor, took advantage of the commotion to throw up his napkin and steal out of the room to the ladies. These he found in full employment: three groups of three, looking at pictures; the Duchess knitting a purse and superintending the portfolios, occasionally addressing a word to her toady, or “companion,” as the poor devils are called, in derision one would think, for they are generally less thought of than the lapdog; while Mrs. Smith inflicted a recital of how her little boy had gone through

  “Whene’er I take my walks abroad,

  How many poor I see!”

  without a single error or wrong pronunciation, upon Mrs. Somebody whom she had inveigled into a corner for the purpose. —

  The butterfly Marquis having saluted the Duchess with a kiss, fluttered away to chatter to the ladies; who all thought it “so nice” of him coming in so soon. The first group was a turbaned one, busy with Colonel Batty’s Swiss Views. The Marquis didn’t stay long with it, but glided into the middle of the room where Emma sat between her mamma and Mrs. Hamilton Dobbin, turning over a portfolio of water-colour sketches, mother and daughter most heartily wishing Mrs. Hamilton Dobbin further. Nor did the Marquis’s approach at all disconcert Mrs. Dobbin, for she had known him from a boy, and perhaps had not established to her own satisfaction that he was anything else yet. Living near the Castle, and knowing the awe in which the neighbourhood held the family, the idea of such a thing as the Marquis marrying a girl like Emna Flather never entered her head, or, indeed, the idea of any girl being foolish enough to think of such a thing; consequently, instead of drawing out her chair to let him into the centre, she merely moved a little nearer Emma, and kept the Marquis outside. Mrs. Flather immediately counteracted the movement by rising and joining another group, and the Marquis presently sidled into her seat. The imperturbable Mrs. Hamilton Dobbin remained rooted to her chair. The Marquis then began chattering, and turning over the drawings. “Was Emma a painter?”

  “Only a very middling one — she doted on pictures though.” —

  The Marquis dared say she was a very good one.

  “Oh no, she wasn’t! Nobody about them cared for drawing but her.”

  “Oh, that was a pity,” replied the Marquis. His pa and his ma were both great artists. “My pa did that,” continued he, holding up a picture.

  “Oh! how beautiful!” exclaimed Emma. —

  “My ma did that,” added he, producing another.

  “Oh! how beautiful!” repeated Emma.

  “My pa and ma did that between them,” continued he, producing a third.

  “-Oh! how beautiful!” reiterated Emma. —

  Meanwhile the guests came dropping in from the diningroom, each with consi
derably more confidence than he felt on arriving, and Mr. Jorrocks and the Duke at length were the only two that remained — still they talked about farming, until a stranger would have thought they were the only two people that knew anything about the matter, instead of one being a mere theorist and the other a mere fool — we beg pardon — we mean in farming. Indeed, the Duke of Donkeyton might be called more than a theorist, for he had some most extraordinary notions about farming and the management of property — a system so peculiar that it generally ended in beggaring the tenants and impoverishing his estates. Still he chattered and talked so glibly, that poor Mr. Jorrocks was thoroughly convinced he was a most “wide-awake” farmer; and what with the wine and what with the twaddle, he got a brainful of most confused ideas. The dominant idea, however, was that farmers were all asleep, and scientific farming was the only thing to make money of.

  “Allow me to give you a toast, your Greece?” inquired Mr. Jorrocks every time the decanters came to a stand, and his Grace dabbled in his finger glass, or applied the napkin to his lips, symptomatic of going.

  “With all my heart, Mr. Jorrocks.”

  “I’ll give The’Illingdon’Sociation and the ‘ealth o’ the Markiss o’ Bray, again!” exclaimed Mr. Jorrocks. (This was the third time he had given it.)

  “Thank ye, Mr. Jorrocks, most kindly — Jeems I’m sure will be most flattered when I tell him of this repeated mark of your attachment.” —

  “Not at all,” replied Mr. Jorrocks, “not at all — werry fine young man — werry fine young man indeed — werry like my friend, James Green, of Tooley Street. Perhaps your Greece doesn’t know Green o’ Tooley Street.”

  His Grace did not.

  “Allow me to give your Greece another toast?”

  “With great pleasure, Mr. Jorrocks.”

  “It must be a hamper,” observed Mr. Jorrocks, drinking off his heel-taps, and filling his goblet as full as it would hold.

  His Grace did the like.

  “I’ll give you the ‘ealth o’ the Duchess o’ Donkeyton,” observed Mr. Jorrocks. “Her Greece has given us a most capital dinner, and your Greece has given us a most excellent drink:” so saying, Mr. Jorrocks quaffed off his tumbler.

  “Thank ye (hiccup), Mr. Jorrocks,” replied his Grace. “The (hiccup) Duchess, I am sure, will be (hiccup) most proud of the (hiccup) honour, which I’ll tell her (hiccup) directly when” — -

  “But drink off your lush,” observed Mr. Jorrocks, seeing his Grace sat with the bumper before him—” wine first — speech arterwards” — added he, as if in explanation.

  “True!” observed, his Grace, laughing— “thank ye, Mr. (hiccup) Jorrocks, for the hint — capital (hiccup) hint — monstrous (hiccup) good (hiccup) hint.” So saying, his Grace drained off the glass, and set it down with the face of a man who has taken a black draught.

  “Now, if your (hiccup) Greece has anything to (hiccup) say, we shall be ‘appy to ‘ear it (hiccup),” observed Mr. Jorrocks.

  “Thank you, Mr. (hiccup) Jorrocks,” replied his Grace. “I can’t (hiccup) express the (hiccup) obligation I’m (hiccup) under to you (hiccup). Shall we (hiccup) have a little (hiccup) coffee?”

  “Jest (hiccup) bazz the bottle (hiccup)!” exclaimed Mr. Jorrocks, holding it up to the light, “there’s (hiccup) only jest a glass apiece (hiccup)!” So saying, Mr. Jorrocks helped himself and then the Duke, measuring the quantity out most equitably. “There’s (hiccup) honesty!” hiccuped Mr. Jorrocks, banging the decanter down in the stand. “No (hiccup) drucken man (hiccup) could do that (hiccup), I guess.”

  The Duke looked at his glass as if it contained poison, and turned very green.

  Mr. Jorrocks having drunk his wine off, washed his mouth out, and ran the pocket comb through his whiskers, set off for the drawing-room, leaving the Duke, as he said, to “put the bottle ends away if he liked.”

  “Holloa (hiccup), Mister Jorrocks!” hiccuped our hero, finding his legs didn’t carry him as straight as they ought, and he bumped with his shoulder against the door-post. “Holloa there!” Mr. Jorrocks then got his land legs and proceeded.

  Towards ten o’clock the groom of the chamber whispered a reprieve in the ears of divers of the male guests, who were all suddenly seized with a desire of looking at their watches, and wondering what sort of a night it was. This is a question that great people do not understand, thinking (like the little Princess who wondered that people should starve when there were such nice buns to be had for a penny) that every one keeps a close carriage.

  If the Duke had gone to the door, he would have seen a curious melée of half-drunken, three-quarters drunken, whole drunken servants and post-boys, exchanging compliments and civilities with his accomplished domestics. Great men’s great men, butlers, and so on, being equal to the conveyance of any given quantity of liquor, measure the capacities of their rural brethren by their own, and without intending to make them drunk — or even perhaps thinking of doing so, generally give them what makes them very nearly so. This is a serious inconvenience to those outside the ring — or who do not, like Mr. Jorrocks, sleep where they dine, and breakfast where they sleep. —

  There were such cuttings in and jostlings out, such threats of running the shafts into each other’s “chays,” and such exchange of country jokes among country Johns. Of all abominations, save us from the impertinence of servants! the open impertinence at least, for few are totally free from it, and talk of their masters and mistresses as though they were something inferior to themselves. The drink frequently brings it out. At Donkeyton Castle there was a grand display. If a master had availed himself of the sombre castle shadow reflected in the moonlight for diving into the carriage ring, he might have heard his own character, and perhaps that of his wife, sketched with all the fidelity of a Daguerreotype portrait.

  Then, when the Jehus got their masters and mistresses cooped into their melon frames and leathern inconveniences, they began putting their boastings of the merits of their respective steeds to the test, by setting off at a pace down hill that perfectly terrified the inmates, and drove all the observations” they had made as to how things were done at Castle, clean out of their heads. Mr. Tugwell had been charged by Mrs. Tugwell (who had got the influenza, and could not come) to mind and see whether the butler handed the wine about with a napkin or not; Mr. Webb had been especially ordered to see whether the footmen took off the bread with a fork or a spoon, also how they got rid of the crumbs; and divers others had made knots in their minds to pay particular attention to certain points, all of which vanished as the jingling of the rattletraps, and the darting disappearance of roadside objects, convinced them they were getting run away with; and the horrors of drowning, and quarry tumbling, and dashing to pieces, with sundry acts of omission and commission, darted across their minds, with a velocity equalled only by their movements.

  Horrible work getting run away with! There is something humiliating in the idea of getting into a one-horse booby hutch (booby hutches they are well called, for a man does feel like a fool riding in one), and committing oneself, and three per cent, consols, to the rash indiscretion of a half-fledged three; quarters-drunken yokel, in black, velveteens and baggy Berlins. Talk of the jurisdiction of magistrates over husbandry servants! What is the jurisdiction’ of magistrates over husbandry servants, compared to what it would be if they had it over their own? Every large house would have a treadmill, and the parson, the lawyer, and the apothecary, would club for one among them. On this night it would have been in requisition, for Mr. Tugwell’s boy, having set down Mr. Webb, very coolly deposited his sleeping master in the coach house, where he remained till the morning.

  There had been fine doings in the servants’ hall and housekeeper’s room at Donkeyton Castle. Betsey, whose propriety — at least sobriety — of conduct had never before been impeached, evinced the hospitality of the establishment, by a very confused statement of what a delightful evening she had spent, and how the Markiss’s gentleman had shown her great attention, a
nd asked her to wine twice during the supper; and how the servants — upper servants at least — had wine twice a day, and how Benjamin had insisted upon being among the upper servants — swearing he was a “walet at ‘ome;” and how he had rooked them of their money at cards, and won two pounds nine and sixpence. Indeed, the wine being in, and the wit being out, Benjamin, contrary to his usual custom, could not contain himself for his exploits, and let out all to his master, he (Benjamin) having, in order to sustain his character of valet, gone up to Mr. Jorrocks’s dressing-room at the time the other valets went to their masters’, under pretence of helping Mr. Jorrocks out of his clothes. Lucky it was that he did so, for Mr. Jorrocks, having soused himself on to a sumptuous sofa, had fallen fast asleep when his trustworthy domestic entered and discovered him.

  “Yell (hiccup), Binjimin,” said Mr. Jorrocks, opening one eye and cocking up a leg, “vot are you arter now? (hiccup). Marmeylad, I dare say.”

  “Please sir, did you ring?” inquired Benjamin.

  “Vy, no, (hiccup) Binjimin — I didn’t — (hiccup) ring — at least not that I minds (hiccup) — but here, turn (hiccup) about, and let’s have my (hiccup) tops off; for this ’ere one’s a pinchin’ o’ my (hiccup) corn;” — Mr. Jorrocks raising a leg for a lever, and lifting the other to put between Benjamin’s legs, to make what sportsmen call a new-,; fashioned boot-jack of the boy.

  “Pleaz, sur, you harn’t got your tops on,” replied Benjamin, knowing it was only a hunting day practice.

  “Ah, (hiccup) vell, never mind (hiccup),” replied Mr. Jorrocks, starting up, thinking he was falling from the sofa.

  “They’re my pamps, are they? I thought I’d been out an ‘unting. Yell, left me up, I s’pose (hiccup) it’s about (hiccup) bed-time (hiccup).”

  “Nigh von!” replied Benjamin. —