Complete Works of R S Surtees

by R S Surtees

  And Ballivant being thus armed, and having his chay at the door, forthwith proceeded to Mayfield, where he soon found Jasper engaged in his favourite game of skittles, with Tailings the turfite, at the Bear and Ragged Staff Inn. Having sent the barmaid into the skittle-ground to say that a gentleman wished to see Mr. Goldspink in the “Moon,” Mr. Ballivant patiently awaited Jasper’s coming, which he was not long in doing, a summons from a stranger being rather unusual with him; and Jasper half thinking it might be O’Dicey, who had promised to look him up the first time he was passing. Finding a lesser evil than he expected, he greeted Mr. Ballivant with the warmth of a repriever, saying he was very glad to see him, and asked if he would take any refreshment — a glass of sherry and a biscuit or anything of that sort.

  Mr. Ballivant having declined his proffered hospitality, was presently button-holeing him with “Well, now, I dare say you know what I have come about, the matter of your marriage in fact. Well, then, you know I have nothing to do with your looks, or your manners, or your figure, or anything of that sort, the ladies will please themselves on these points; but there is one thing I must strenuously urge and impress upon you, and that is, your immediate withdrawal from the turf.”

  “Why so?” exclaimed our surprised hero, thinking it was rather a fine thing to be connected with it.

  “Because,” replied Mr. Ballivant, “it is a dangerous pursuit, and draws you into low profligate company.”

  “I don’t see that,” said Jasper, biting his thick lips.

  “Well, but I do,” rejoined Mr. Ballivant; “and if Mrs. McDermott takes my advice she will not let her daughter marry any man who has any thing to do with it. Gambling and drinking are two insurmountable objections to matrimony in my mind.”

  “Humph,” mused Jasper, thinking Mr. Ballivant alluded to his O’Dicey performance. “I don’t think there is anything objectionable about the turf,” at length observed he.

  “Well, but I do,” rejoined Mr. Ballivant, “I do; and I’ve lived a good deal longer in the world than you, and seen more of it, and I’ll tell you what, I have never seen a low fellow get a gentleman into his power, without his sooner or later making him repent it.”

  Jasper was silent. Tailings was evidently the object of the observation.

  “If gentlemen,” continued Mr. Ballivant warming with his subject, “think to ingratiate themselves with the lower orders by affecting undue familiarity they greatly deceive themselves — the lower orders respect a man in proportion as he respects himself, and there is nothing they dislike so much as to see a man who ought to occupy the position of a gentleman demeaning himself by low associates.”

  “Tailings evidently,” gasped Jasper, half inclined to resent the observation.

  “It is not only the degradation, but the danger,” continued his monitor. “These creatures keep everything they can get hold of that they think may ever by any possibility be turned to account, and years after an incautious note or letter may be produced with which you may be twitted and taunted nobody knows how.”

  “But you would not put down racing surely!” exclaimed our sporting hero.

  “Well, no,” replied Mr. Ballivant, “I don’t say that, but there can be no possible occasion for you or I to support it. Leave it to noblemen and gentleman who have a direct interest in breeding good horses; but avoid the betting blackleg tribe as you would a pestilence.”

  “However,” continued Mr. Ballivant, raising his formidable looking spectacles on to his broad forehead, and taking a good stare at Jasper, “those are my instructions — money matters I will arrange with your father, but upon this turf business I must be firm and peremptory. I never knew any good come of it. I have known a great deal of ill.

  I never see a young man setting up a metallic penciled pocket-book, and sneaking round a street corner into what is miscalled a sporting house, without feeling that sooner or later he will be ruined — ruined — mind, body, credit and estate. It is only a question of time. If you want healthy excitement,” continued he, “Why not hunt? That’s a pleasant gentlemanly amusement. No man is more respected than Mr. Jovey Jessop, but you never hear of Mr. Jessop bellowing for odds, or scheming how to get money out of his neighbour’s pocket. People like to send their sons out with Mr. Jessop, because they know they’ll take no harm; but as to the turf, as the turf is at present constituted — its vice, its depravities, its atrocities, — I really think a man had almost better be under it than on it.” So saying Mr. Ballivant clutched off his spectacles, and wheeled round for his broad brimmed hat, as he cased and put the spectacles into his breast-coat-pocket.

  “Well now, then,” said he, preparing to depart, “You’ll be good enough to think over what I have said to you; it is with the wish and consent of the ladies, and that being the case, I’m quite sure it will be attended to.” So saying, he tendered our hero his hand, and was presently back at the Hare and Hounds Inn, ordering his fly, wherein to return home. And Jasper thinking that Mr. Bunting was still to the fore, and having tasted the sweets of jealousy already, was obliged to attend to what was said.

  CHAPTER XCVI.

  WHO-HOOP!

  LADIES ARE MUCH more at homo in the matter of matrimony than men. It seems to come to them quite naturally, whereas the men are generally rather’ shame-faced, and wish it well over. No one ever sees boys blowing off dandelion-down to try who is to be married first. A pair of top-boots has generally more attraction for them. All ladies have a wonderful tendency towards the orange-blossom. It is quite the fox’s brush of female life. They like the fuss, the excitement, the shopping, the choosing, the matching, the ordering. One would think a bride had either had no clothes before, or was going to an uninhabited island where they were not to be got, so vast and comprehensive is the assortment. Then when the garments are gathered together, how the ladies come trotting to see the grand trousseau, just as interesting, we should think, as looking at a lot of well-littered horses standing in a stable in their clothes. But the fair see beauty in the frail devices, and think how elegant they will look when filled up with such a splendid figure as the bride’s.

  Then, as the happy day approaches, what anxiety there is about the weather. It is, perhaps, the only time when ladies really do care what sort of a day it is. They think of the bride and her beautiful dress, and her beautiful veil, her beautiful this and her beautiful that, and of the distance she will have to go from the carriage to the church.

  Somehow weddings are generally favoured with fine weather — and we are happy in being able to state that our Heroine and Mamma were especially fortunate in theirs. A spring morning’s sun awoke all parties to their duties, causing even the men to forego their objurgations at thus having a day spoiled — and cease their wonders at weddings not being in the afternoon. It certainly would be a great convenience if they were.

  Punctual to a minute, Hr. Jovey Jessop had his Jug and his trap, boot-jack and all, in his dog-cart, and after an affectionate leave of the servants, who all agreed that Mr. Boyston was a very quiet gentleman who gave no trouble, Jovey set off with him as if driving to the meet of the hounds.

  There seemed to be a general holiday throughout the country, and every house and cottage exhibited some little token of rejoicing, a flag, a streamer, a ribbon; some out of compliment to Mr. Jessop, some out of compliment to the Jug, some on account of the beef and ale they were going to have at Appleton Hall in honour of the event. As they neared Sleekfield turnpike-gate, they overtook one of those wretched attempts at finery, a job-carriage and four — the carriage a lack-lustre landaulet, the horses three blind uns and a bolter, the tawdry post-boys as unmatchable as the horses. Jovey and the Jug gave a view-halloa as they passed, and then let the inmates — Jasper and his worthy parents — see how much faster one good horse could go than four bad ones. So they arrived at Privett Grove in time to discard their wraps, and appear in much the same dresses as they did at the duchess’s ball. Then the whole house presently broke out in an irruption of white �
�� white dresses, white waistcoats, white gloves, white favors, white everything. Rosa looked lovely, and Mamma wore her years quite as well as she does in our frontispiece. Indeed some of the gentlemen thought they would just as soon be the Jug as friend Jasper. And all being punctual and pleasant the carriages were soon filled with crinoline, the gentlemen got into their various devices, whips cracked, wheels went round, while road-side bobbing and curtseying was again the order of the day. And the distance to Priestpopple church was either so short, or they went so fast that they seemed to be getting out of the carriages again before they had well got in. Some indeed thought they might as well have walked. For such a lasting ceremony, it takes a vezy short time to perform, and Mamma and Miss had both changed their names in the course of twenty minutes. Then the brides and bridegrooms having received the congratulations of their friends paired off together, a different arrangement had to be made with the carriages, which was effected at the church gates amid a salvo of silver among the by-standers. Then the return journey being rapidly made, the elegant breakfast was found ready, and the ladies had to be rechristened with a shower of champagne. Mrs. Boyston, your very good health! Mr. Boyston, yours! Mrs. Jasper Goldspink, your very good health) Mr. Jasper, yours, &c.

  Then Sivin-and-four, and Mrs. Sivin-and-four’s healths were drunk, and Sivin-and-four, unused to champagne, being rather elated, returned thanks in a dribbling speech, in which he told them how he had begun life very small, and how he was now a most substantial man, and advised every body to stick to the shop if they wished the shop to stick to them, adding, that if they took care of the pence the pound would take care of themselves, with other familiar sayings that we need not repeat And the six bridesmaids and Mr. Jovey Jessop being duly toasted, and responded to by Mr. Jessop, who spoke most handsomely on behalf of both them and his Jug, the ladies presently withdrew, the brides to rearrange their toilets, the bridesmaids to see to the derangements of theirs; whereupon the gentlemen proceeded to empty the bottles, and drink the “single married, and the married happy,” and finished by toasting the Jug and Jasper a second time. Then the carriages again appeared in the ring before the house, while the cording and bumping of boxes sounded in the passage, and the Jug withdrew to put on his boots, asking pretty Perker, the maid whom he met on the stairs, if Mrs. McDermott was ready? which Perker said Was a bad omen. Mrs. Boyston answered the question by appearing in person, dressed in a beautiful pink bonnet with a white feather tipped with pink, and a brown moire antique dress with brown velvet round the bottom, when the gallant Jug having saluted her, helped her into her black velvet jacket, and then leaving her, said he would be ready in a minute. And when he returned he found Rosa — we beg pardon, Mrs. Jasper Goldspink — getting admired in her white Maltese lace bonnet with small white roses and orange-flower buds, and her well set out light lavender coloured silk dress surmounted by a large black Maltese lace mantle. The Jug with his hat being the signal for move, there was presently a great hugging and kissing, with a slight show of tears, and then the respective parties got into their carriages and away, the Boystons to White Rock House, the Goldspinks for the Dovecote Lane Station. And as the carriages departed, the half-fuddled, full-dressed gentlemen yawned and looked at their watches wondering what they should do with themselves.

  The day was done. Privett Grove was closed, Mr. Jovey Jessop drove home alone, and our Banker and his spouse set off for their quiet quarters at Mayfield in a one horse chaise.

  “Sivin and four’s elivin, and sivin’s eighteen, I don’t know but I’d as soon the mother hadn’t married,” observed our man of money to his wife, as they jolted along.

  “Oh, never mind, we can’t have it all as we want,” replied Mrs. Goldspink, “the money is sure to come sooner or later, and there will always be Garlandale for them to go to if they don’t like the Grove.”

  “Sivin and four’s elivin, and sivin teen is twenty-eight, money’s very useful in this world for all that,” replied the Banker, whipping the old horse into a trot, that presently brought them on to the rising ground overlooking their own familiar town, spire, town-hall, corn-market, and all.

  CHAPTER XCVII.

  WHO-HOOP AGAIN!

  OUR ESTEEMED FRIEND Punch says there are two things a man never forgets — his first love and his first cigar, to which we beg leave to add a third, namely, when he first heard that his banker had stopped payment. His banker stopped payment! What an appalling announcement! What a crash and commotion it creates in the country. How it spreads, reechoes, and reverberates, catching men in all sorts of ways; by sea, by land, by rail, on foot, on horseback, in their castles, in their counting-houses, seizing them in the side, depriving them of breath, freezing their feet, petrifying their faculties, almost stunning them with fear. They never forget where they first heard it, nor the way in which they stood gasping, calculating the consequences, considering how they would be hit, whether Fothergill’s bill would have been paid in, Crossgrain’s cheque presented, and how they should meet their own engagements. That recollection haunts them to the last, long after the adorable first love shall have subsided in a front, and the fume of the cigar become second nature. It was thought at one time that a discovery had been made for preventing all bank failures in future, and certainly, looking at joint-stock banking in a theoretical point of view, nothing can be more specious or plausible, though in reality nothing is more fallacious, the whole depending upon whether the directors are honest, and whether the proprietors are princes or paupers. So far from mitigating the evil, it has increased it tenfold, in consequence of the magnitude of the operations. And yet people go into them with all the confidence of security — believing the specious reports, and the existence of the mythical guarantee fund. Talk of the courage of facing an enemy, or Cardigan-izing a cannon, — what are such exploits compared to the courage of a man who deliberately risks his all in a concern over which he has no more control than he would over a run-away steam-engine?

  So long as the beloved ten per cent, came rolling regularly in, all was right, and no questions were asked; nothing could be better than the Dibshire Joint-Stock Bank, and when word came that it had what is mildly called “closed,” parties wouldn’t believe it — must be a mistake — somebody had been late with a cheque, which of course couldn’t be paid, and it would be all right to-morrow. Why t was open only yesterday, with its bright doors, shining counters, and goodly array of sleek clerks weighing and shoveling sovereigns about as if it was too much trouble to count them. But when the morrow came, and the blinds were down, the sovereigns silent, and an ominous notice — short, but most potent — on the closed doors, then indeed came weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth.

  Banks of issue interest the public according to the number of dirty five-pound notes in circulation, and as people always make the greatest noise about small sums, the failure of a bank of issue almost creates as great a consternation as the suspension of a joint-stock bank. Every man who has a five-pound note joins in the cry. Still, if ever there was a safe bank in the world, one would think it was old Goldspink’s — established sivinteen hundred and sivinty-four — and worked with a caution that almost amounted to cruelty. No overdrawing — no interest allowed on deposit, no discounting without most approved names. O’Dicey might have waited a long while before they would have befriended any of either his or Mr. Wanless’s paper.

  In troublous times, indeed, a very trifling thing causes a panic, and makes a run upon a bank. During the great bubble year of 1825-6, a bank in the City was ruined in consequence of a butcher’s pony falling down before the door just at the time of the high change, and the public mistaking the crowd gathered round the pony for a run upon the establishment. A rumour was raised, and a real run took place the next day. We are sorry to say that nearly as frivolous a cause produced as great an effect upon the old Mayfield Bank.

  The reader will remember that Mr. Ballivant had insisted upon our friend Jasper’s retirement from the turf, and by way of furthering
the arrangement, had mentioned to one or two people that Jasper’s racehorse Garlandale was for sale. Among others he told it to Mr. Kirby the veterinary surgeon, who told it to his cousin Armstrong the auctioneer, who, mistaking the “horse” for the house, asked Cordey Brown, mysteriously, what had happened that the Banker’s new place Garlandale was for sale. Gordey asked Jobling, and Jobling asked Talford the tipler, until the report reached Archey Ellengeris ears, who, hitting off the idea that there was something wrong at the bank, went about the country asking what was up, and intimating that people had better be looking after their money, for that Garlandale Hall, as he called it, was for sale, and wishing that this marriage mightn’t be arranged for the purpose of making matters safe.

  The news spread like wild-fire! Archey’s suggestion speedily assumed the dimensions of a fact — Brown White told Bowderoukins that young Hopeful had been at his old games again, Bowderoukins told Meadowcroft that he supposed there was something wrong at Mayfield, Meadowcroft gave Captain Cambo a hint that all wasn’t right at the old bank, and Cambo told Mrs. Cambo, who told somebody else; people ran to their money-boxes to see if they had any of the familiar notes with, a fat ox feeding at a hay-rick on the top, and the mark of many thumbings at the corner. The more the marriage was talked about the more the story circulated, until it culminated on the very wedding-day. As our Banker and his spouse neared the town of Mayfield, they were passed by several parties, unaccustomed to be there on non-market-days, who looked at him very differently to what they did when they came to ask for a little accommodation.

  “Sivin and four’s elivin, and sivinteen’s twenty-eight — there seems to be a great many people astir to-day,” observed our friend, seeing more travellers in advance.