by R S Surtees
This being the second time within the four-and-twenty hours that the bow-legged postboy and rat-tailed roan had been at the Castle, the former thought it necessary to refresh his inward man very considerably; and he drank so much strong ale that he was greatly indebted to his horse’s discernment for getting him home. He was stupidly drunk. Daylight, fresh air, and the ride made him staring drunk. He looked like an owl. Great placards met his eyes at intervals as he went, but all he could settle respecting them was that they were not “signs.” Gradually his vision improved, and his mind began toying with the letters. The placards were all alike, and the frequency of their appearance so far familiarised him with them, that he blurted out on tumbling from his horse in the inn-yard, “Great fat Duke o’ Donkeyton total repealer.”
After comers saw more clearly. It was market-day at Sellborough, and consternation was depicted on the farmers’ faces as they entered the town, and the ominous placard —
“A GREAT FACT!
THE DUKE OF DONKEYTON —
TOTAL REPEALER,” met their gaze at every turn. The League again were prodigal of paper.
The farmers stared, and asked each other what it could mean. It must be a hoax — it could not be true. The Duke, the bulk of whose income was derived from land, would never cut his own throat. One thought one thing, another another. —
Mr. Smoothington, like the Duke, indulged in a good snooze after his over-night exertions; and the morning was far spent ere in the progress of his shave his eye met one of the enormous placards on the opposite wall —
“GREAT FACT!
THE DUKE OF DONKEYTON
A
TOTAL REPEALER!”
Smoothington was horror-struck. He saw the error he had committed. He stared and stared and could not finish his shave; knocks sounded at his door, and rings pealed at his bell; and when he got downstairs, he found the passage and clerk’s office crammed full of farmers. Just then the bill-sticker went by with his paste-can and pole, putting up the Marquis’s amended address. Boys were distributing it in hand-bills about the streets, and shouts of “Bowker for ever! Big-loaf Bowker!” still sounded in the streets, as “open houses” closed their accounts by turning the topers out of doors. Mr. Bowker had taken his departure soon after the bank opened, leaving the English and American loaves dangling from the inn balcony. The drunken, frantic violence of the debauched town populace contrasted with the sober staidness of the farmers.
Some people may fancy farmers simple fools; but where self-interest is concerned, they are quite as sharp as their neighbours. To be sure, they do sometimes make absurd propositions to their landlords, but that is more a sign of their thinking their landlords fools than of their being so themselves. Did any landlord ever know a tenant make a proposition that would tell against himself?
Mr. Smoothington could not humbug the farmers. He could not make them believe that the Marquis’s fresh address had nothing to do with the League placard, or with Mr. Bowker’s departure. Moreover, being plain-spoken men, they frankly told him so.
The market commenced, and the effect these proceedings had upon the prices will be best understood by the following extract from that excellent agricultural paper, The Mark Lane Express.
“SELLBOROUGH. — Our market was well supplied with wheat, for which the farmers expected high prices; but owing to the unexpected announcement of the Duke of Donkeyton’s accession to the Corn-Law League (proclaimed by large placards throughout the town before the market commenced) a panic ensued, and it could hardly be got off at any price. Barley, oats, beans, and peas shared a similar depression.”
It so happened that this was the monthly meeting day of the farmers’ club, when they dined together, smoked, drank, and discussed farming topics. There was a large muster of the body towards two o’clock, at the sign of the “Bull’s Head.” The subject fixed for discussion—” How much more potent lime was when supplied by the landlord than when found by the tenant?” — was forgotten altogether in the excitement caused by the announcement of the morning. Mr. Heavytail was chairman of the day, and entered the room in a high state of perturbation, caused by the untoward depression of prices. His voice was heard upstairs before he had well got into the passage below.
“AR NIVER KNEW SUCH A THING IN ALL MY LIFE! FOLKS
ARE ALL GONE MAD TOGETHER! HAVEN’T TAKEN AS MUCH MONEY AS WILL PAY MY GATES!”
Johnny Wopstraw came -in, greatcoated and overalled as usual, with his canvas sample bag in his hand, declaring—” Upon the who-o-le, he was ruined!”
Haycock of Hazledean, Farbridge of Cow Gate, Snewkes of Heckley Heath, Brick of Dobble Heath, Brick of Rushley, Clotworthy of Woolley Grange, Dick Grumbleton of Hawkstone, and some twenty others, all declared the same thing. Murmur rose above murmur, till the joints got upon the table, and the meat stopped their mouths. Heavytail was hid behind a baron of beef. The clatter of knives, forks, and plates, the callings for ale and beer, and the thanking each other for further supplies, stopped the grumbling for a time.
The cloth being drawn, and the favourite beverage of each man placed before him — wine to the wine drinker, spirit and water to the humbler — Mr. Heavytail rose and gave the “Health of the Queen” in a tone that plainly told how depressed he was. Her Majesty’s health having been drunk, Heavytail presently rose again, and in his usual stentorian voice, exclaimed —
“UPON MY WORD, GENTLEMEN, I’M SO TROUBLED IN MY MIND, THAT I CANNOT GO ON AS I SHOULD. I THINK I NEVER HEARD SUCH A THING IN MY LIFE, AS FOR A NOBLEMAN LIKE THE
DUKE OF DONKEYTON — A MAN THAT HALF THE COUNTY
BELONGS TO — TO GO AND JOIN A DIRTY RUBBISHIN’ RADICAL
SET OF DIVILS, WITH SCARCE A COAT TO THEIR BACKS” (applause). “OH DEAR, I’M BAD,” continued Heavytail, panting for breath, and pressing his stomach with his left hand. “I THINK,” continued he, in his roar—” GENTLEMEN, I’D BETTER GET THROUGH MY TOASTS, AND THEN WE CAN
TALK THE MATTER QUIETLY OVER; SO I’LL PROPOSE THE HEALTHS OF ‘PRINCE ALBERT,’
‘ALBERT, PRINCE OF WALES,’
‘ALL THE YOUNG ‘UNS,’
‘THE QUEEN DOWAGER,’ AND ‘ALL THE REST OF THE ROYAL FAMILY;’” with which comprehensive toast Mark sat down.
Farmers then began laying their heads together in knots of threes and fours. Some thought one thing, some another. All agreed they could not compete with foreigners.
“I’VE PUT TWENTY THOUSAND DRAININ’ TILES UNDERGROUND THIS YEAR,” observed the chairman; “AND WILL ANY MAN
TELL ME THAT I’M NOT CONSARNED IN THE QUESTION?”
“Upon the who-o-o-le,” observed Johnny Wopstraw, “I think the farmers are the most so.”
“And the labourers!” rejoined Mr. Clotworthy of Wooley Grange. “I employ upon an average eight men upon every hundred acres of arable land, winter and summer; and I should like to know Low many I should want if it was all in grass.”
“WE MUST HAVE A MAN THAT’LL PROTECT US!” observed Mr. Heavytail from the presidential chair.
“So we will, so we will!” exclaimed several; and thereupon glasses began to dance, and spoons to clatter on the table, with the applause the observation called forth.
More wine, more spirit, and pipes, were then called for.
“WE MUST SHOW FIGHT, OR THEY’LL FLOOR US!” observed the oracle again.
“We will, we will!” exclaimed several, amid renewed applause.
“Such a man as Squire Wheatfield, or Mr. Hay of the Mount,” observed Mr. Brick of Rushley.
“Squire Wheatfield don’t farm,” replied Mr. Farbridge.
“Squire Hay don’t either,” said Mr. Brick of Dobble Heath.
Several other Squires were then talked of: Haycock named his landlord; but the proposition did not meet with much success. Snewkes named another, Brick a third, and Dick Grumbleton objected to them all.
“I think, upon the who-o-o-le, we must have Mr. Jorrocks,” observed Johnny Wopstraw.
Great applause followe
d the observation.
Mr. Jorrocks next day having got up very early to write an ode to his Bull, was interrupted by the constable coming to say that two men had quarrelled and fought, and each wanted to lay a charge of assault against the other.
“Quarrelled and fought! what about?” exclaimed our Squire, darting an angry glance at the intruder.
“About — about — nothing, I think,” said the constable.
“Humph!” grunted Mr. Jorrocks. “They’ll both be in the wrong, I s’pose?” added he.
“Indeed, I don’t know, sir,” replied the constable; “they both think themselves in the right at the present time.”
“That’s jest wot conwinces me they are both in the wrong,” rejoined the Justice, thinking how he could get rid of the case without bothering himself.
“Tell ’em,” said he, after a pause, “to go to the public-’ouse, the Jorrocks’s Harms, and drink a pint o’ hale together, and try to make it hup; and if they can’t, to come back here, and I’ll commit ’em both.”
“Yes, sir,” said the constable.
“Send ’em to the Sessions,” added Mr. Jorrocks.
“Yes, sir,” replied the constable.
“And bind you over to persecute,” continued Mr. Jorrocks.
“Yes, sir,” replied the constable, with a duck of the head.
“Troublesome dogs,” said Mr. Jorrocks to himself; “they’re always fightin’.”
“Please, sir, here’s Mr. Good’eart wants to speak to you,” said Benjamin, entering the sanctum with his usual hang-gallows look, just as Mr. Jorrocks was resuming his poem.
“Mr. Goodheart, Binjimin!” exclaimed the Squire, starting up. “I’ve not seen Mr. Good’eart these six weeks. Show him in.”
Presently the venerable old man made his appearance, drooping with the weight of years.
“Vell, Mr. Good’eart, and ’ow are you?” asked Mr. Jorrocks, in a cheerful tone.
“Thank ye, sir, I’m middlin’ — canna complain — not so strong as I was, p’raps — am rather gettin’ on in years you see — I’m turned of seventy-two.”
“Well, but that’s nothin’,” observed Mr. Jorrocks.
“Why, no, sir; it’s not, sir,” replied Goodheart; “but we are nabbut a short-lived family, you see. My father was cut off in the prime of life at eighty-two.”
“Poor young man!” exclaimed Mr. Jorrocks; adding, “come, sit down, and tell us all about it. You’ll be wanting some fifth o’ George the Fourth, I presume.”
“No, sir,” replied Willey, not knowing what the Squire meant.
“Your rent raised, then, p’raps,” suggested Mr. Jorrocks, acting on Pigg’s recommendation of anticipating complaints.
“No, ‘deed do I not, sir,” replied Goodheart, with emphasis; “us farmers, I think, will all be ruined.”
“Vot’s ‘appened now?” asked Mr. Jorrocks. “They harn’t been a firin’ of your stack-yard, ‘ave they?”
“Far worse than that! far worse than that!” exclaimed Goodheart. “I’ve been readin’ in the Grampound Gun of a thing they call a League, for takin’ the duty off French corn.”
“Ah!” said Mr. Jorrocks, smiling, “you’ve read up to that, ‘ave you?” recollecting Willey was always a year or two in arrear with news.
“To think,” continued Willey, “of my ever livin’ to see such a thing as the French and English on such terms. I, that hate the French, so that I would never eat a French roll or grow French beans in my garden. Why, sir, I was a volunteer in the times of Bonaparte.”
“So was I!” exclaimed Mr. Jorrocks. “So was I!” repeated he, “in the City Light’Oss.”
“But you mustn’t allow it,” observed Willey, thinking a magistrate could do anything. “You must speak about it,”
‘ added he. “What’s the use of your being a magistrate if you can’t stop such work as that?”
“I fear it von’t come within the fifth of George the Fourth,” observed Mr. Jorrocks aloud to himself.
“Please, sir,” said Benjamin, coming in again, “here’s Mr.’Eavytail and some more gentlemen want to see you.”
“More gentlemen!” exclaimed Mr. Jorrocks. “It must be the ball they want to see! Confound, that hanimal’s werry expensive. Cost me a hocean o’ sherry. Shall have to get some Marsala.”
“Tell Mr. ‘Tail and the gen’lmen,” said Mr. Jorrocks to Benjamin, “that I’m partickler engaged — inwestigatin’ a dreadful bugglary — but the Markis’ll be ‘appy to see them, and you go and show him — or get Pigg, if yoû’re afeard he’ll toss you again.”
“Yes, sir,” said Benjamin, taking his departure.
“Please, sir, Mr. Wopstraw says, upon the who-o-ole, it’s you they want to see,” said Benjamin, entering the room and imitating Wopstraw. —
“Cuss the chaps,” muttered Mr. Jorrocks; adding, “I never ‘ave a moment to myself. Yell, send them in,” said he in disgust.
“YOUR SARVANT, SIR,” roared Heavytail, entering the room, followed by Wopstraw, the Bricks, Snewkes, Grumbleton, Haycock, Clotworthy, and a whole host more.
“Good mornin’, gentlemen,” said Mr. Jorrocks, astonished at the number; “I’m afeard you’ll hardly get chairs,” added he, looking round the room.
“NEVER MIND, SIR, WE CAN STAND,” roared Heavytail. “WE’VE COME TO SEE YOU ABOUT THIS PARLIAMENT BUSINESS.”
“Humph,” grunted Mr. Jorrocks; “and who are you for?” asked he.
“You!” roared Heavytail.
“ME!” exclaimed Mr. Jorrocks. “Ah, I twig,” added he. “You mean you’re willin’ to wote as I wote. All right and proper — much obleged to you.”
“No, sir,” observed Wopstraw. “We think, upon the who-o-ole, we’ll have you for Parliament man!”
“Me for Parliament man!” exclaimed Mr. Jorrocks; “’ow can that be? The Markis is to be Parliament man.”
“HE WON’T DO FOR US FARMERS!” roared Heavytail, producing the Marquis’s amended address.
“I twig,” said Mr. Jorrocks. “Goes against the Corn Laws.”
“Upon the who-o-ole, we must have a man that’s for them,” observed Wopstraw.
“THERE’S BEEN MEETINGS OF THE FARMERS ALL OVER THE COUNTY,” roared Heavytail, “AND THEY’RE ALL FOR YOU.”
“Indeed!” exclaimed Mr. Jorrocks, “that’s werry purlite on ’em; and who’ll pay the shot? Parlument’s an expensive shop.”
“WE’LL ALL POLL AT OUR OWN EXPENSE,” roared Heavy-tail.
“Ay, but the pollin’ ar’nt the great damage. Livin’ in London; givin’ of dinners; bespeakin’ of plays in the country, and I don’t know what else.”
“Upon the who-o-ole, we think, as you have a house up in London, you can do it cheaper nor anybody else.”
“Yell,” said Mr. Jorrocks, “but it’s an enormous sacrifice you are a callin’ on me to make. Consider ’ow ‘appy I am in the country, tendin’ my flocks and ‘erds, guanoin’ and nitrate o’ soberin’ my land, and all that sort of thing.”
“BUT THEBE’S A DEAL OF HONOUR IN IT,” roared Heavytail. “No doubt,” replied Mr. Jorrocks; “no doubt,” repeated he; “and so there should — and so there should be; but honour, you know, may be bought too dear.”
“Well, but it’s no use argufyin’ the matter,” observed one of the Bricks; “for you we’ve fixed upon, and you we’ll have.”
“Yell, but,” observed Mr. Jorrocks, after a pause, “you’ve taken me all aback — you’ve taken me all aback — thought you’d come for to see my noble ball — there’s a deal to consider — there’s a deal to consider — Mrs. Jorrocks to consult — Mrs. Jorrocks to consult — consult Mrs. Jorrocks.”
“THERE’S NO TIME TO LOSE,” roared Heavytail. “LET THE MARQUIS GET A START, AND IT’S ALL OVER WITH US.
You MAY GIVE YOUR LAND AWAY, IF YOU CAN GET ANYBODY TO TAKE IT, THAT’S TO SAY.”
“Oh dear,” exclaimed Mr. Jorrocks, “that would be a bad go — that would be a bad go. Get little enough as
it is. Howsomever, you must give me a leetle time to consider; meanwhile, take a valk, and see the ball, and Mrs. J.’s bantams, and all that sort of thing. Then come back, and have a leetle sherry and seed cake, or something of that sort, and we will talk the matter quietly over, for I declare you’ve taken me so by surprise, I don’t know vether I’m standin’ on my ‘ead or my ‘eels.”
CHAPTER XLIV.
BRING ME NO more reports.”
PEOPLE in castles hear differently to the world at large. The real truth seldom penetrates When the whole country was in a state of ferment at the appearance of the League’s “great fact” bill, and the Marquis of Bray’s address, the Duke, ensconced within his park walls, fancied all was over and quiet, and that the Marquis had nothing to do but walk quietly in.
On the day following the issuing of the bill, his Grace took a saunter up to the model farm to give directions for some new experiments on nature, and hear the result of some recently made. Mr. Jobson had notice of his coming, and the whole establishment were full fig to receive him. Mrs. Jobson had her lavender-coloured silk curtains unbagged, and the drawing-room arranged in apple-pie order, in case his Grace should condescend to take a little refreshment.
The important experiments being discussed, the Duke, still full of his admirable diplomacy in putting so little into the Marquis’s address as to enable him to get rid of Mr. Bowker by a little enlargement of it, could not resist the temptation of saying a few words relative to the late threatened contest.
“All quiet again now, I suppose,” observed he to Mr. Jobson, “since that Mr. Bowker took himself off?”
“I hope so, your Grace,” hesitated Mr. Jobson.
“What, is there any doubt about it?” exclaimed the Duke. “Is there any doubt about it?” repeated he, alarmed at Jobson’s manner.
“Oh no, your Grace,” replied Mr. Jobson; “at least, I dare say not; what we hear are most likely lies — in fact, it does not do to believe everything one hears.”
“But are there any reports current?” asked the Duke.
