by R S Surtees
“After the boy Brady comes one of those questionable creatures, — a servant out of place, who is the only witness that at all goes to the second point — supposing the warranty to be proved — of the horse being unsound at the time he was sold. And what does he say? Why, that the horse coughed on his way from Mr. Jorrocks’ stable to that of the travelling showman. Such evidence, I feel, will have no weight with you, gentlemen. A hundred things might make him cough. Perhaps the occasional groom had been trying his wind by the usual pinching of the windpipe, or a bit of hay might have lodged in his throat; but if the horse had such a violent cold upon him, do you think it could have escaped all the lynx-eyed witnesses the plaintiff had to inspect him? Is there none of all that numerous host to come forward and say that the horse was unsound at the time he was sold? None but this gentleman, who, it seems, Mr. Pigg would prefer being damned by to dining with. (Laughter.)
“Such evidence is not worth rebutting. It would be an insult to your understandings to suppose so. Mr. Horsman alone requires contradiction. He has been in practice for the long period of three years, and says, from the appearance of the horse, he has little doubt but he had the seeds of the disease upon him when sold. To rebut that, I propose placing another veterinary surgeon in the witness-box; and although by so doing. I shall entitle my friend to a reply, yet I feel his case is so hopelessly weak that I shall not injure my client’s cause by throwing him the chance, confident as I am of obtaining your verdict.”
Mr. Castley, a veterinary surgeon of ten years’ standing, deposed that he made a post-mortem examination of the horse. The lungs presented one confused and disorganised mass of blackness. The appearance would lead the inexperienced to imagine that long inflammation had gradually broken down the substance of the lungs. Proves no disease of long standing, but inflammation, intense in its nature, which had speedily run its course. The horse died from suffocation, every portion of the lungs being choked up with this black blood, which had broken into and filled all the air-cells, by means of which it should have been purified.
Two other witnesses spoke to the healthy appearance of the horse at the time he was sold.
John Brown was the next witness. He deposed that he was pad-groom to Mr. Barnington, a Cheshire gentleman of large fortune, who kept a good stud of hunters at Handley Cross. Was well acquainted with James Pigg and with all Mr. Jorrocks’ horses. Their stables adjoin. Was at exercise on the morning of the sale with James Pigg, who rode Xerxes and led Ginnums. Never heard the horse cough all the time. Was out two hours. Would have been sure to have noticed it if he had coughed. Grooms are always on the look-out for coughs.
Joseph Haddock, a lad of fourteen, being sworn, deposed that his mother was a washerwoman, and he turned the mangle and sought the dirty clothes in a donkey-cart. Is well acquainted with Mr. Benjamin Brady the whipper-in. Was playing cards with him in the hay-loft on the morning of the sale. Mr. Brady lost one and ninepence, and was very angry. The game was blind hookey, and Mr. Brady played without intermission till one o’clock. Is quite certain Mr. Brady never stopped playing to see what was going on below or to listen. Brady is a desperate gambler. Will play at any thing, or swear to any thing. Cross-examined.— “Witness remembers the day, because Mr. Brady had not paid him. Believes Mr. Brady had the money, but insinuated that witness had cheated; quarrelled in consequence. Had been very intimate before. Mr. Brady used to let him ride his led horse when Mr. Pigg was not at exercise. Used to gallop and race along the road. Owes Mr. Brady money on the balance of their racing account. The largest stake they ever run for was five shillings, four miles along the Appledove Road. Mr. Brady on Xerxes and witness on Arterxerxes. Mr. Brady won, but witness afterwards heard that he had given Arterxerxes a pail of water before starting, and he refused to pay. Had tossed for choice of horses the night before the race. The case is referred to the editor of ‘Bell’s Life,’ who has not yet given his decision. Expects it in the notice to correspondents. Been before the editor since the spring. Should say that Mr. Brady is what they call a ‘sharp hand’ — not much the gent.”
Bolster replied at great length, during which process Baron Botherem went through his notes, preparatory to charging the jury. He began almost before Bolster got sate down, as if to reprove his unseasonable prolixity. Thus he instructed them: —
“Gentlemen of the jury,” said he, “this action, as you have heard, is brought by Captain Doleful against Captain Jorrocks, both of them filling distinguished offices at Handley Cross Spa, one being master of the ceremonies, the other master of the blood hounds; and it is much to be regretted that gentlemen in their exalted stations should not be able to arrange their differences without the intervention of a judge and jury; however, as they come here, we must endeavour to do justice between them. The action is brought to recover the price of a horse, and the points you will have to consider will be, first, whether there was any warranty at all or not, and if you think there was a warranty, then you must consider to what extent it went.
“The evidence, as usual in these cases, is very conflicting, one witness swearing point blank the reverse of what another one swears.
“First, you have James Pigg, the huntsman, who informs us, in his subterranean language — if, indeed, it can be called a language — that he said ‘nout,’ which, I suppose, is meant to imply that he did not warrant the horse; the word ‘nout’ doubtless being one of extensive signification in the colliery country, from which this witness comes.
“Then you have Mr. Benjamin Brady — the whipper-in, I think he is called — who says, ‘I was lying in the hay-loft, and heard a conversation between Pigg and the plaintiff, when Pigg distinctly stated, two several times, that the horse was sound wind and limb. Then, on his cross-examination, he admits that the plaintiff was in the habit of coming into the stable, and asking all sorts of questions, and that Pigg was in the habit of giving the same character to every horse; so that, you see, he might be talking about any of the others, for anything Mr. Brady knows to the contrary. All this is very perplexing, to say nothing of the flat contradiction given by the last witness, Mr. Joseph Haddock, to the material point of Mr. Brady’s evidence. I may be wrong, but they appear to me to be what would be — hem, hum, haw, — not exactly what they ought to be.
“Indeed, the only undisputed point seems the death of the horse. One veterinary surgeon says that he has no doubt he had the seeds of disease upon him at the time he was sold; and the other, that the symptoms he saw on the post-mortem examination prove nothing of the sort. The plaintiff’s occasional groom swears the horse coughed on his way from the stable on delivery. Counsel for the defendant cross-examined him as to his present servitude; but I do not think anything was elicited that should throw discredit on the witness’s testimony. To contradict him, then, I should observe, you have John Brown, who describes himself as ‘bad groom to Mr. Jones.” It seems an odd character for a man to give himself,” chuckled his lordship, “but I suppose we must take his word for it.”
A titter ran through the court, which the judge, attributing to his wit, proceeded.
“This witness says he was at exercise on the morning of the day of sale with Captain Pigg, and the horse never coughed: ‘I should have been sure to have noticed it if he had,’ he adds. So there again, you see, the evidence is at direct variance.
“Altogether, it is a most perplexing case, and one that we, who have passed our lives in courts of law, are but ill calculated to unravel. I would rather try ten insurance cases than one horse cause. All I can do is to put the points that you will have to decide, and leave you to judge of the worth of the evidence. The points are, whether or not there was a warranty, and, assuming you find there was a warranty, then you must consider whether the horse had the seeds of disease upon him when sold, or acquired them after he passed into the plaintiff’s possession. On the other hand, if you are of opinion there was no warranty, then the second point will not arise, and your verdict will be for the defendant.
“
In the event of your finding for the plaintiff, the measure of damages will be the price paid for the horse; and haw, ha, hem, I think, gentlemen, that is about all the assistance I can give you.” Saying which, Baron Botherem bowed, and threw himself back in his throne.
The jury immediately seized their hats and coats, and while the usher is swearing the bailiff to keep them in some safe place, without meat, drink, or fire — candle-light only excepted — till they agree upon their verdict, they betake themselves from the heated atmosphere of a suffocating court, to the chilly, vault-like dampness of the retiring-room; a rough deal-table, with a bench on each side, is all the accommodation that greets them, while a single candle, showing the massive gratings of a lofty window, and the dull clank of the lock, as the bailiff turns the key upon them, reminds them of the importance of an early agreement of their verdict. Twelve strangers are thus left to make each other’s acquaintance by arriving at the same conclusion.
“Well,” said Mr. Strong, throwing himself on the table below the window, “I suppose we shall have no difficulty about this case. We must find for the plaintiff, of course.”
Mr. Strong was one of the three gentlemen described in the panel as merchants, and was under obligations to Captain Doleful for getting partners for his plain daughters.
“I don’t know that,” replied Mr. Heartley, one of the top-booted gentry; “I am neither satisfied that there was a warranty, nor yet that the horse was unwell when he left Mr. Jorrocks’ stable.”
“That’s my view of the case, too!” exclaimed half-a-dozen voices, glad to follow a leader.
“Nay, then,” exclaimed Mr. Strong, “I think it seems clear, by the evidence, that Pigg warranted the horse; and, that being the case, the law says, the owner is bound by the representation of his servant.”
“I think so too,” observed another.
“The evidence on that point is very unsatisfactory,” exclaimed two or three.
“I’m afraid we can’t make it any better,” replied Mr. Strong.
“If there was no warranty, there can be no damages; perhaps we had better divide on that point first. Those gentlemen who are of opinion that Mr. Jorrocks warranted his horse will have the kindness to hold up their hands.”
Mr. Strong then took the candle, and waving it round the gloomy room, found he had three in his favour. That was not very encouraging, but he had been in a worse situation, and carried his point after all, so he deliberately set down the candle, and pulled a book out of his pocket.
That looked ominous.
The conversation was then taken up promiscuously, the jurymen huddling in groups, with their hats on, talking to keep themselves warm.
“Perhaps we had better have some more candles,” observed Mr. Strong, looking off his book; “I suppose we arn’t stinted as to them.”
“I should hope we won’t want them,” observed a shivering youth, who had left his hat in the jury-box.
“Don’t know that,” responded Mr. Strong, pulling a night-cap out of his pocket.
Again they huddle into groups, or walk hurriedly about, stamping, and clapping their arms.
After some half-hour consumed in this way, a knock at the heavy door arrests their attention, and the bailiff announces that the judge desires to know if they are likely to agree on their verdict.
“Yes!”— “No!”— “Yes!” respond half-a-dozen voices, which, the bailiff understanding, informs his lordship that they are not; so, arranging that the verdict shall be taken by the officer of the court, his lordship awakes the dozing under-sheriff, who rouses the drowsy trumpeters, and as the Town Hall clock chimes twelve, his lordship arrives at his lodgings.
The dying notes of the shrill trumpets fall with clear and melancholy cadence on the ears of the pent-up jurymen, and again the most tractable attempt an accommodation. Mr. Strong only replies by winding up his repeater, and striking the hour.
“It’s as cheap sitting as standing,” observes one of the jurymen, taking his place at the table, an example followed by the rest, to the ejectment of Mr. Strong from the end, and the whole party sit down as if to a meal.
They now begin the case anew, going through the evidence with an accuracy considerably promoted by hunger. One o’clock strikes — two — three — and yet they are as far from agreeing as ever. Day begins to dawn, and at length finds its way even through the iron bars of the dingy prison window.
The jury eye each other like through railway passengers eye those who have got in during the night, and Mr. Strong puts out the candle.
Mr. Heartley has a pocket-full of horse-beans, which he begins eating, offering them liberally to his friends, with the assurance that he has enough for a week. Mr. Strong produces a cold tongue, which is in more demand, and he gets little himself. Cold and hunger tell upon his supporters, and at four o’clock he stands alone.
At half-past he gives in.
The joyous jury almost break the door in awakening the sleeping sentinel, and they rush into court to deliver their verdict.
How changed the scene! The heated hall is cleared — Mr. Jorrocks sleeps in the judge’s chair, his wig is awry — James Pigg and the crier are nodding, back to back, in the witness-box — Benjamin is curled up on the bar-table — and the attorneys and their clerks are huddled together at opposite corners, lest they should fight in their sleep. A crier is found in the bottom of the reporter’s box — and the officer left to take the verdict, being summoned from his coffee in the gaoler’s house, hurries in with Captain Doleful, and hears a verdict for the defendant.
The crier dissolves the court, and James Pigg, frantic with delight, hoorays, and hoops, and yells, and proclaims that he’ll be the death of a sovereign!
CHAPTER LXV. THE CAPTAIN’S WINDFALL.
THE VERDICT SANK deep into the heart of Captain Doleful.
He returned to Handley Cross long before people were stirring; but Miss Jelly’s watchful eye “traced the day’s disaster in his morning face.” Taking to his bed, the captain obstinately remained there for two whole days, impervious to the call of friends and foes. The verdict was one of the severest blows that had befallen him in a somewhat eventful life. The price of the horse was nothing compared to the long lawyer’s bills that were sure to follow, — a hundred and fifty pounds, perhaps. Dreadful! But for the pleasure of trouncing Jorrocks, he could have had the thing tried quite as well in the county court for 5l.
Consolation, however, came on the third day, and an important change commenced in the fortunes of our captain. Sitting in moody stupor, with a last week’s “Paul Pry” in his hands, Miss Jelly’s little girl presented herself before him with a deep, black-edged letter, bearing the Clifton post-mark. The Captain started at the sight, for though almost alone in the world, the sign of mourning shook his shattered nerves.
He broke the seal with nervous hand, and read as follows:
“Sir, — We have the honour to acquaint you, that your good friend, and our excellent client, Miss Louisa Crabstick, is no more; — she expired this morning at half-past six, without pain or struggle. As her confidential advisers, we are in a situation to acquaint you, that a few days since she executed a will in your favour, and it is highly important that you should forthwith repair to the spot, and take upon yourself the direction of affairs. Her property is considerable, and we believe there is a large sum of money and valuables in the house, all of which should be looked to without delay. In making this melancholy announcement, we beg to offer our congratulations on your justly merited good fortune, and to add, that any instructions you may honour us with will be carefully attended to. We have the honour to subscribe ourselves, dear sir, your most obedient and very humble servants,
“Pike, Lamb, and Lambro, “Keen Street, Bristol.”
What a state of excitement Captain Doleful was thrown into on reading this! A new world seemed opening before him, and he felt himself hurrying away from the cares, the contentions, and the disappointments of the old one. For once a lawyer’s letter c
onveyed a charm. For some moments he was perfectly childish. He looked at the letter, then he looked at himself; then came the recollection of former days, with a slight twinge of regret that one, to whom he had poured forth his whole soul in mercenary adoration, should now be no more. That was quickly followed by wonderment at getting the money, and a hasty speculation as to the amount. His head was in a complete whirl, and he ordered and ate half-a-dozen calves’-foot jellies with apparent unconsciousness.
That evening saw him off to Clifton, and surprise at the unexampled extravagance of his conduct having tempted Miss Jelly to cast a hasty glance at the letter as it lay on the table during the captain’s absence, sorting his clothes, the confectioner’s shop spread the news like wildfire, and half-a-dozen candidates for the office of M.C. sprung up before the captain was well out of the town.
Captain Doleful’s acquaintance with Miss Crabstick was one of those intimacies that frequently arise where people are thrown together in watering-place idleness, and though considerably older than himself, he had no hesitation in making the excess of money balance the excess of years. Miss Crabstick, however, conscious of her wealth, and not despairing of her charms, determined upon trying another season or two elsewhere, before yielding to the captain’s solicitations. That season or two had been protracted into eight or ten, and the captain had almost ceased to think of her. Brighton, Cheltenham, Hastings, and Clifton, had all been tried since first they met at Willoughby Baths, and still Miss Crabstick thought a season at the German Spas would supply the quid pro quo, or “equivalent,” that she deemed essential to connubial happiness. She died. — Her wealth was great, — more than people imagined, and the captain, with the assistance of Pike, Lamb, and Lambro, soon discovered he might swear the property under twelve thousand pounds, without defrauding himself.