by R S Surtees
“Nigh von?” hiccuped Mr. Jorrocks;— “impossible, (hiccup) Binjimin! I’ve’ only jest (hiccup) come upstairs (hiccup).”
“Nigh von for all that,” replied Benjamin. “They keep rum hours at these great shops. Never goes to bed afore midnight.”
“Queer coves,” hiccuped Mr. Jorrocks, sitting up on the sofa.
“Deed are they!” replied Benjamin, “but I’ve put the leak into some o’ them great long lazy London Johnnies. Won a ‘atful o’ money of them!”
“‘Atful o’ money ‘ave you, (hiccup) Binjimin?” hiccuped Mr. Jorrocks, “that was (hiccup) werry clever (hiccup) o’ you — you’ll be a (hiccup) great man, Binjimin (hiccup).”
“Yes, sir,” said Benjamin.
“A werry (hiccup) great man,” hiccuped Mr. Jorrocks; “(hiccup) sobriety and (hiccup) cleanliness are (hiccup) great things in the world. Never (hiccup) degrade yourself, Binjimin, to the (hiccup) level of a (hiccup) beast by intemperance (hiccup). Drunkenness is a shockin’ (hiccup) sin. Drink (hiccup) will do nothin’ (hiccup) for no man.”
“Yes, sir,” replied Benjamin, looking at his master. “Where (hiccup) moderation dwells (hiccup), the mind (hiccup) expands with mutual (hiccup) ardour (hiccup), and all that sort o’ thing (hiccup)!”
“Yes, sir,” said Benjamin.
“Then (hiccup), Binjimin, ‘elp me out o’ my (hiccup) coat,” rejoined Mr. Jorrocks, rising and extending an arm to the boy.
Benjamin took hold of the sleeve, and in the jerk to disengage himself of the garment, Mr. Jorrocks lost his balance, and fell souse on the floor with Benjamin atop of him.
CHAPTER XIII.
O THAT MEN should put an enemy into their mouths.
To steal away their brains!” — SHAKSPEARE.
THE Duke of Donkeyton had a very bad headache the next day, and could not come down to breakfast.
Mrs. Flather was sorely disappointed at this, for she got down early in hopes of a kiss from his Grace, by way of sealing the bargain. This, we believe, is the usual form in such matters. The young people kiss as a matter of course, and the old ones do ditto, at least when both parties are pleased with the match — a thing of such unusual occurrence, as not to have happened in our recollection. Emma had detailed to her mamma, with such few additions as her fertile imagination supplied, all that had passed between the Marquis and herself, particularly the tone and manner in which he made the observation or declaration, and, above all, the exact degree of warmth with which he squeezed her hand at bed-time. Young ladies, and young gentlemen too, should be cautious in these matters — young gentlemen not to give utterance to ambiguous expressions — young ladies not to put interpretations upon words they are not meant to convey. Had it not been that Emma, and Emma’s “ma,” to whom Emma attributed superior sagacity when it suited her convenience, had gone to Donkeyton Castle, with the full conviction that the Duke and Duchess wanted Emma for the Marquis, there would have been something ridiculous in their taking hold of such a commonplace observation as “it will be our turn next,” and construing it into an offer of marriage; but when that impression, together with the rusticity, and the “greasy novelling” of the parties, is taken into consideration, we think our indulgent readers will acquit us of taxing their credulity beyond the stretch of literary latitudinarianship in stating such to have been the case.
Moreover, there is another observation we wish to make on the subject. Young ladies and mammas who have only been accustomed to the jog-trot day-book and ledger courtship of common life, cannot imagine that all the empressements and soft nothings of high life are in fact “nothings” but are apt to take them as the pure current coin of courtship, and contrasting the earnestness of the one with the snoring sleepy-headedness of the other, fall into a very excusable error in supposing a great deal more meant than is really intended.
Fair ladies; beware of the small talk of young gentlemen in cerulean blue satin waistcoats worked with heart’s-ease, and pink pantaloons.
Mrs. Flather and Emma had little sleep that night. Everything was talked over three or four times, and the darting rays of the morning’s sun found them talking still. Mrs. Flather rose, and drawing the costly curtains, looked out on the lovely landscape, wood and water, hill and dale, with an eye of ownership. What a conquest! Mrs. Trotter would die of envy. Then Emma talked of the diamonds. Told how the Marquis had said they cost fifty thousand pounds. Then Mrs. Flather wondered how old the Duchess was. If she could get into the library before breakfast she would have a look in the “Peerage.” Already the Duke and Duchess began to be looked upon in the light of encumbrances.
Mr. Jorrocks, who had one of those remarkable heads that take very little harm from drink, came strutting into the breakfast-room with his hands in the upper tier of the diagonal Jorrockian jacket pockets, and the massive silk tassels of his Hessian boots tapping against the leather as he went, and found Mrs. Flather, bag in hand, pacing up and down pretending to look at the pictures, but in reality waiting for-the arrival of the Duke. Mr. J. “was so glad to see her! Now that was werry kind of her,” and thereupon he gave her such a smack, as caused the footman, who was coming in with the urn, to start and snicker outright. Mrs. Flather looked very black, inwardly resolving to put the steady old gentleman to rights as soon as ever she became a Marchioness’s mother. —
The guests then came dropping in, and presently the Duchess and Jeems arrived, when salutations became general, together with inquiries after the health of his Greece — how each had slept, and unanimous approval of the appearance of the day—” splendid weather!”
The guests again ranged themselves to the now much shortened table, each with a new neighbour, like the survivors of a regiment after a battle, and tea and toast, coffee and eggs, became the order of the day.
As the breakfast party were in full cry, the Duke of Donkey ton made his appearance, looking very seedy, and having made his circuit of politeness, drew up beside Mr. Jorrocks, who was sitting next the Duchess, giving her a lecture on the varieties of tea and the usual modes of adulterating them, much to Mrs. Jorrocks’s annoyance, who sat looking as if she would eat him.
“Ah, Mr. Jorrocks, and how do you do?” inquired his Grace, stopping short at his over-night friend, who had a plateful of cold meat, with a circle of muffin plates, toast racks, sweet cakes, and egg-shells before him.
“Tol-lol, thank your Greece; ’ow are you off for ‘ealth?” replied Mr. Jorrocks, adding, “That last glass was rayther too much for me; howsomever, never mind — I carried it upstairs — had a Seidlitz pooder this mornin’, and am all right again now. ‘Ow’s your Greece, I says?”
“Thenk’ee, Mr. Jorrocks, thenk’ee; I’m middling — pretty well, I thenk you — I was imprudent enough to eat a little lobster paté, which I think has rather disagreed with me.”
“That’s a bad job, your Greece,” observed Mr. Jorrocks, diving his fork into three or four slices of cold ham, as the footman brought the plate past him. “That’s a werry bad job,” added he—” I s’pose it’s a complaint peculiar to ‘igh life though, for I see Cockle has almost every great name in the kingdom down as patrons of his antibilious pills — I doesn’t place much faith i’ pills and physic. My frind, Roger Swizzle, says, eatin’ does far more ‘arm nor drinkin’! Roger tries the drink at ‘igh pressure too — howsomever you’ll be better when you mend, as the nusses say to the children. Here’s a werry fine mornin’, your Greece — one ought to have been among the dandylions, these two hours — us farmers should be early.”
“Ah! by the way, you’re a great farmer,” observed his Grace, pricking his ears—” delightful occupation, farming — monstrous nice occupation — wish I’d been born a farmer.”
“Wish I’d been born a duke,” grunted Mr. Jorrocks, as he stuffed a large piece of tongue into his mouth.
“Tell me now,” continued his Grace, without noticing Mr. Jorrocks’s observation, “have you an Agricultural Society about you? Society for promoting science, agricultur
al chemistry, improved farming? Best cow, best bull, best two-year-old horse?”
“No, but I intend to, your Greece,” replied Mr. Jorrocks, “shall teach them a thing or two — farmers are a long way behind the intelligence o’ the age, your Greece.”’
“That’s just what I say, Mr. Jorrocks!” replied his Grace; “that’s just what I say!” repeated he. “Too much of what my father did I do,’ style about them — want brushing up: you take yours in hand, Mr. Jorrocks — make them drain.”
“Drainin’s a grand diskivery, your Greece. It’s the foundation of all agricultural improvement.” (Mr. J. borrowed that idea from Johnny Wopstraw.)
“That’s what I say, Mr. Jorrocks,” replied his Grace.
“Yell, and I say it too,” rejoined Mr. Jorrocks, with a jerk of his head, as much as to say he would not be done out of his idea. He then began his third egg.
“Smith o’ Deanston should be knighted,” observed Mr. Jorrocks, as he put in the salt.
“A baronetcy wouldn’t be too much,” replied his Grace; “greatest benefactor the world ever saw — makes two blades grow where one grew before — monstrous benefactor.”
“Guano! nitrate o’ sober! gipsey manure!” continued Mr. Jorrocks.
“I see you understand it all!” observed his Grace.
“Trust me for that,” replied Mr. Jorrocks, diving deep into the egg.
“We’ll have sich a Hagricultural ‘Sociation. President, John Jorrocks, Esq. Dine in a tent — dance in a barn — cuss it, there goes the hegg all over my chin. But stop,” added Mr. Jorrocks, wiping it off— “Didn’t we say— ‘President, the Markiss o’ Bray? Wice-President, Mr. J.? I think that was the way.”
“Jeems I am sure will be most happy,” replied his Grace, who now began to recollect something of the overnight conversation. Jeems, my dear!” exclaimed he to young hopeful, who was just cutting Emma a fourth slice of white bread, to the indescribable horror of Mrs. Flather. “Jeems, my dear! Mr. Jorrocks does you the honour of proposing you for President of his Agricultural Association.”
“Mr. Jorrocks does me great honour I’m sure,” replied Jeems, almost bowing his face into his plate; adding to Emma, “What a curious old man he is!”
“He’ll be rather young in the business, you know, Mr. Jorrocks,” observed his Grace sotto wee.
“Oh, I’ll put him up to it all!” rejoined Mr. Jorrocks with a knowing wink, and a dig of his elbow into the Duke’s ribs; “give him a lector aforehand — South Downs— ‘Erefords — Durhams — subsoil plough — liquid manure — Deanstonizing, and all that sort o’ thing. We’ll inwent a manure together. The Donkeyton dung — or may be a drainin’ tile — Mr. Jorrocks’s tile. We’ll be werry famous. Write in Stephens’s Book o’ the Farm. Mr. Jorrocks on balls. The Markiss on milch cows. We’ll make the grass grow, the grass grow, the grass grow, as my ‘untsman James Pigg used to sing about his coal barge.”
If ever there was a man Mrs. Flather more heartily wished further (as people delicately say, when they consign another to the devil), it surely was this loquacious old man, Mr. Jorrocks. Fancy the stupid old fellow intruding in the morning at a time he was never wanted, and then monopolizing the Duke and Duchess in this scandalous manner! This most delicate and important transaction kept open by the ill-placed garrulity of the old grocer. Never was anything so provoking. Never was a woman so thwarted as Mrs. Flather was — did it on purpose too. We certainly must admit it was very trying; but these sort of interruptions frequently occur just at the critical moment, either of an offer or a declaration. The footman with the coal-scuttle, or a carriage-full of company, grinning and kissing their hands through the window with delight at finding you at home, and the anticipations of spending a long day. From all “long-day spenders, good Lord deliver us!”
At length Mr. Jorrocks’s appetite was appeased, and pulling out his watch, he discovered that it wanted but ten minutes to eleven. “Tempus fuggit,” said he, putting it up to his ear to ascertain that it had not stopped at that hour overnight. “We must be mizzlin’. Don’t do for us farmers to be away too much. Old saying, when the cat’s away, the mice will play. Dare say your Greece finds it true.”
“Well, but there’s no great hurry, my good friend,” observed his Grace—” sorry you’re obliged to go. Should like to show you my farm — the Duchess’s dairy — my bull — Jeems’s rabbits.”
“Oh, vy you know I’m not forced to go; only I ham’t brought another shirt — clean shirt, clean shave, and a guinea in one’s pocket, is wot constitutes a gen’leman in my mind. Howsomever, I’ll ride over again some day, jest in a friendly pot-luck sort o’ way; meanwhile,” added he in a low tone in his Grace’s ear, “Mrs. Flather and I are engaged to ride ‘ome together, and ven a lady’s in the case, your Greece knows the rest.”
“Well then, Mrs. Flather, you and I ride ‘ome together,” observed Mr. Jorrocks, strutting down the table to where Mrs. Flather sat in agony, twisting the cord of her bag into a thousand different forms under cover of the table.
Mrs. Flather looked very black.
“S’pose we order the hutch round in ten minutes, or a quarter of an hour. It vont take you long to put on your bonnet, and,” added he, in an under tone, “if we start afore the chay, we shall ‘scape all the dust. You twig?” added he, with a wink.
“Say half-an-hour,” whispered Mrs. Flather, in agony.. “Sorry you’re obliged to go, Mrs. Flather,” observed the Duke, rising and passing down the table to where Mrs. Flather sat. An example immediately followed by the company, who were now all on their legs together.
“I’m sure we are extremely obliged to your Grace” —
“Not at all,” interrupted his Grace, “not at all; nothing can give us greater pleasure than” —
“Your Grace’s partiality — preference,” faltered Mrs.
Flather—” for my daughter is most flattering, and” —
“Not at all, Mrs. Flather — not at all; she’s an extremely fine girl — very fine girl indeed — monstrous fine girl! Your husband and I are very old friends, Mrs. Flather — most gratifying to the Duchess and myself to renew our intimacy in such a satisfactory way.”
“I’m sure you do us infinite honour. It is what I never could have expected. I’ trust my poor child will show herself worthy of the high honour.”
“No fear of that, Mrs. Flather — none whatever. The Duchess likes her amazingly — monstrous fond of her,” saying which the Duke shuffled on to Mr and Mrs. Hamilton Dobbin, to express his regret that they too were obliged to go.
“Now then!” said Mr. Jorrocks, touching Mrs. Flather’s elbow, “let’s be startin’, they’re all a-goin’, and we shall get into the ruck if we don’t mind, and ketch all the dust.”
“Don’t be in such a hurry, pray,” said Mrs. Flather peevishly. —
“My vig!” said Mr. Jorrocks, aloud to himself, drawing back, “shows a little wice I think.”
“Your carriage is at the door, sir,” and “Please to order my carriage round,” now became general, and the headachy Duke and complacent Duchess began hugging their departing friends, most heartily glad to get rid of them.
“The Markiss and I must have a talk about this ‘Sociation some day,” observed Mr. Jorrocks to the Duke.
“True!” exclaimed his Grace, who had gumption enough to keep the main chance in view. “Jeems!” holloaed he to young hopeful, who was pinning a bouquet into Emma’s breast, “come here, my dear! Mr. Jorrocks wants to speak to you.”
“You and I must have a talk together about this ‘ere’ Sociation,” observed Mr. Jorrocks, eyeing the butterfly figure before him. Pink-striped shirt, tied with a blue ribbon for a neckcloth, pea-green duck-hunter, pitch-plaister-coloured waistcoat, white jean trousers, pink-striped silk stockings, pumps and buckles.
“Ah! the farming thing!” replied the Marquis, “true, I suppose we must say something to the people.” —
“You had better drive over to Mr. Jorrocks’s, Jeems, and
talk it all over,” observed the Duke.
“Do,” replied Mr. Jorrocks; “and bring your nightcap with you — you mustn’t come in the coach-and-six though, for I can’t put up sich a sight of ‘osses.”
“Whereabouts do you live?” inquired the Marquis, who had as much idea about the country as a cow.
“Oh, twelve or fourteen miles from here,” observed Mr. Jorrocks, “nothin’ of a ride.”
“This hot weather though, it would, I think,” replied the Marquis, with a shake of the head—” however, I should like to pay you a visit” (the Marquis meant Emma), “and I dare say my ma will lend me her brougham; however, I’ll write you word, Mr. Jorrocks:” so saying, he whisked away to jabber and prattle with the ladies.
Mrs. Jorrocks having got herself into her bonnet and shawl, the Duke offered his arm to conduct her to her carriage, while the Marquis followed with Emma, telling her how soon he would be over to see her, and kissing her fair hand as she ascended the steps of the carriage, with all the devotion of a lover, sent her away as happy as a duchess.
Mr. Jorrocks stuck so close to Mrs. Flather that she could not get a word in sideways, either with the Duke or Duchess — at length she yielded to the teasing importunities of the tiresome old man, and resumed her yesterday’s place in the fire-engine, without the anticipated salute from the Duke, and greatly incensed at Mr. Jorrocks for his untimely persecution.
How they “rode ‘ome together” the reader can guess, nor will it be supposed that Binjimin had any trouble in looking for stones in Dickey Cobden’s feet.
CHAPTER XIV.
ABUSED BY SOME most villainous knave!
Some base notorious knave, some scurvy fellow! —
O heaven, that such companions thou’dst unfold;
And put in every honest hand a whip
To lash the rascal naked through the world!”
— SHAKSPEARE.
