by R S Surtees
“Oh, why, you know, I told you i’ the mornin’ I was goin’ a beakin’. It’s our beak day, you know,” added the Justice.
“And had you much business?” inquired Mrs. Flather, anxious for any subject rather than the Castle one.
“Not much,” replied Mr. Jorrocks, “not much; this alteration in the New Poor Law, I expect, will make more. We had a case too that puzzled Mr. Green, and do all I could I couldn’t set him right.”
“What was that?” inquired Mrs. Flather, glad to lead our friend on to what, at any other time, would have been a dreaded subject.
“Why, it was this,” replied Mr. Jorrocks, taking off his hat and placing it between his legs, “it was a case under the fifth o’ George the Fourth, chapter eighty-two, commonly called the Wagrant Hact, being a Hact for the punishment-of idle and disorderly persons, and rogues and waggabones. Now, this fifth o’ George the Fourth, chapter eighty-two, in my opinion, is the finest piece o’ legislation extant; beats old Magna Charta, new charter, and all other charters into fits. In fact, there’s nothin’ like the fifth o’ George the Fourth for keeping things straight.”
“Indeed!” observed Mrs. Flather, who had never heard of its efficacy before.
“Well then, you see,” said Mr. Jorrocks, “this fifth o’ George the Fourth diwides offenders into three classes, jest as railway directors diwide their passengers. First,” said Mr. Jorrocks, pressing the forefinger of his right hand against the thumb on his left, “is the great cock offender, called ‘INCORRIGIBLE ROGUE,’ a chap wot’s too bad for anything: he has passed through the other two coaches and got to a first-class carriage. Next to him,” continued Mr. Jorrocks, putting his forefingers together, “is the ‘rogue and wagga-bone;’ and lastly, comes the idle and disorderly person. You twig?” asked he, looking at Mrs. Flather.
“Perfectly,” replied she, thinking what a wigging she would get from Emma.
“Well then, you see,” said Mr. Jorrocks, “this fifth o’ George the Fourth — a Hact wot may be jestly called the true palladium of our rights — describes what shall constitute the three classes of offenders. Idle and disorderly persons are not those wot leave their keys, work-bags, and pocket handkerches about, but beggars and people wot won’t work — people wanderin’ abroad, or placin’ themselves in any public place, street, ‘ighway, court, or passage, to beg or gather halms; and these it is lawful for a jestice to commit on his own view, as it is called, to the ‘ouse of C., which means Correction, there to be kept to ‘ard labour for any time not exceedin’ one calendar month. You understand all that?” asked Mr. Jorrocks, looking in Mrs. Flather’s face, who had fallen into a reverie.
“Perfectly,” replied the lady.
“Then,” continued Mr. Jorrocks, “comes rogues and waggabones; this is where Green got wrong to-day. The clause describin’ rogues and waggabones sets out by referrin’ to the precedin’ one about the idle and disorderly persons, it being the intention o’ the statut’-makers that no person should be idle and disorderly twice.”
“Indeed!” exclaimed Mrs. Flather, thinking that would be a grand secret to possess.
“No,” said Mr. Jorrocks very gravely, “the rogue and waggabone clause commences by enactin’ that every person committin’ any of the idle and disorderly offences a second time, after having been conwicted in course afore, instead of being any longer considered idle and disorderly, shall thenceforth become rogues and waggabones. Then it goes on to enact that certain offences committed the first time shall make the offenders rogues and waggabones. Every person, for instance, pretendin’ or professin’ to tell fortins, or usin’ any subtle craft, means, or device, by palmistry, which means examinin’ the marks i’ the palm o’ your ‘and, jest as the darkeyed ladies do at Hepsom or Hascot Races — whiles, indeed, with the Surrey ‘unt — well, usin’ any subtle craft, means, or dewice, by palmistry or otherwise, to deceive or impose on any of Her Majesty’s subjects; every person wanderin’ abroad and lodgin’ in any barn or out’ouse, or in any deserted or unoccupied buildin’, or in the open hair, or under a tent, or in any cart or waggon, not havin’ any visible means o’ subsistence, and not givin’ a good account of himself or herself, and every person bein’ found — and this,” continued Mr. Jorrocks, pressing Mrs. Flather’s arm, “is the point on which Green and I differed — and every person bein’ found in or upon any dwellin’-’ouse, ware’ouse, coach-’onse, stable, or out’ouse, or in any enclosed yard, garden, or harea, for any unlawful purpose, and many other sitivations,” continued Mr. Jorrocks, with a wave of his hand, “shall be deemed rogues and waggabones within the true intent and meanin’ of the Hact: and it shall be lawful for any jestice o’ the peace to commit such ‘fender (bein’ thereof conwicted before him by the confession of such ‘fender or by the evidence on oath of one or more credible witness or witnesses) to the ‘ouse of C., there to be kept to ‘ard labour for any time not exceedin’ three calendar months.”
“Indeed!” observed Mrs. Flather, as Mr. Jorrocks paused for breath.
“Quite true, I assure you,” continued the Squire. “Us beaks have great powers. But you will perceive that we have less power over rogues and waggabones than we have over idle and disorderly persons. Idle and disorderlies we can ‘quod’ on our own view, but rogues and waggabones we must have witnesses against. Well, but howsomever that isn’t the pint. Green and I differed about the offence. Four sturdy wagrants, two men and two women, were brought up at Petty Sessions — the women, charged with palmistry — bamming Farmer Goosecap about a gold-mine under the hill at the back of his ‘ouse, while the men tried to rob his ‘en-roost. Well, the case was as clear as crystal, and I said to Green in a visper, for he was chief jestice to-day, owin’ to my bein’ a few minutes late, I said in a visper, the jestice o’ the case I think will be satisfied by giving the ladies a month, and the gentlemen two months in the ‘ouse of C.; for palmistry, you see,” continued Mr. Jorrocks, crossing one leg over the other, “albeit improper, p’raps, is more absurd than mischievous — nothin’ at least compared to robbin’ the ‘en-roost; besides, the palmists were ladies — one rayther good-lookin’ — and the men were stiff, sturdy, bull-dog-lookin”ounds, that would be better for three months, if not for total imprisonment. But wot do you think Green said?” asked Mr. Jorrocks, leaning forward and looking full in Mrs. Flather’s face.
“Can’t tell, I’m sure,” replied Mrs. Flather, wearied with Mr. Jorrocks’s prattle. —
“Why, Green got the fifth o’ George the Fourth in his ‘and, and readin’ the rogue and waggabone clause, insisted that no person could be conwicted as a rogue and waggabone wot had not been previously conwicted as idle and disorderly!”
“Indeed!” said Mrs. Flather.
“Quite true, I assure you,” continued Mr. Jorrocks, warming at the recollection of it, “and not all I could say could conwince him that the opening part of section four—’ And be it further enacted, that every person committin’ any of the ‘fences hereinbefore mentioned, after havin’ been conwicted as an idle and disorderly person,’ referred to the previous section, prohibitin’ people being considered idle and disorderly a second time, and makin’ them rogues and waggabones instead. Green insisted that no person could be conwicted as a rogue and waggabone wot had not been previously conwicted as idle and disorderly; so to give these parties a step towards the second-class carriage he conwicted them as idle and disorderly, givin’ the ladies a week and the gentlemen a fortnight apiece on the mill.”
Our Cockney Squire having exhausted his talk, bethought him what he wanted to say to Mrs. Flather. He couldn’t hit upon it at first.
“The Markiss, to be sure,” at last exclaimed he aloud to himself, causing Mrs. Flather to shudder. She would rather have heard him recite the statutes at large, and comment upon them as he went, than return to the subject of her misfortune.
“You thought yourself werry sly, I dare say,” observed Mr. Jorrocks, putting on his hat and laying hold of her elbow, “stealin’
a march to the Castle. Couldn’t gammon me though, I guess — am bad to ‘umbug. Howsomever, never mind — tell us about the Duke — was he glad to see you? Monstrous glad to see you? Queer chap that Duke — monstrous queer chap, as he would say — mad I should say — mad.’Ow’s his farm? Did you see his roan ball, Tiberius? Noble quadruped I understand.”
“But ‘ere’s the Marchioness!” exclaimed Mr. Jorrocks, as the chaise suddenly stopped, on encountering la dame blanche on the top of a piece of rising ground, up which the horses had thought necessary to walk.
There was Emma sure enough, in white, with blue ribbons in her straw bonnet, and a blue silk scarf drooping from her shoulders, her clear complexion partaking of a slightly roseate hue, and her eyes brightened up with the animation of anxiety. Seeing Mr. Jorrocks with her mamma, the first brush looked upon his presence as an omen of success, particularly as there was a broad grin on his good-natured countenance, as he took off his hat and addressed her as her ladyship. “‘Ow does your ladyship do?” asked Mr. Jorrocks, as Emma stood transfixed by the carriage.
She did not know what to make of it. Her mamma looked smilingly serious — it might be the affectation of humility after conquest, but Mr. Jorrocks was grinningly smiling. He seemed to partake of the triumph.
A landaulet, a post-chariot, with three, is a very inconvenient carriage for diplomacy. People must turn their heads to communicate even by looks, and a third person hears and sees all that passes. Moreover, Mr. Jorrocks insisted upon riding bodkin — a very awkward-sized bodkin he was — especially as he would have all three to sit back, so that the conversation might be general.
““Well, you’ll be gettin’ your coronet ready, I s’pose,” observed Mr. Jorrocks, turning to Emma, and shutting out the view of her mamma, whose vacant countenance she was trying to study by a sidelong sort of glance. Emma smiled.
“Don’t talk nonsense, Mr. Jorrocks!” exclaimed Mrs. Flather snappishly.
“Well, but don’t get your ‘ead turned,” observed Mr. Jorrocks, squeezing Emma’s ungloved hand. “Don’t cut your old frinds,” continued he; “and wotever you do, send me a good slice o’ cake.”
Emma smiled. Women always smile at the mention of bride-cake.
“The custom o’ sending cards and compliments may be werry conwenient when there isn’t much tin,” observed he; “but you’ll ‘ave no ‘casion for sich close shavin’, so tell them to hice it well, and let the halmond paste be a hinch thick at least. Never mind about Cupids or cherry bins, or none o’ them gentry; for me, at least,” added he.
With this pleasant sort of badinage, pleasant to Emma, but excruciatingly painful to Mrs. Flather, Mr. Jorrocks rattled and talked on till the driver looked down from his perch as he arrived at the turn of the road leading up to Mrs. Flather’s, and asked if Mr. Jorrocks would go to the Manse or get out there, very handsomely offering to drive him down to the Hall if he preferred doing so.
Looking at his watch and finding it wanted but ten minutes to dinner-time, Mr. Jorrocks decided upon vacating his bod-kinship and driving home in his own vehicle.
Taking an affectionate leave of the Marchioness and her mamma, and charging them above all things “not to let their heads be turned,” Mr. Jorrocks opened the door, and unfolding the long string of steps (like a tailor’s pattern-book), descended from the altitude of the old landaulet. Having boxed mother and daughter up again, he sought the culinary comforts of his own house in the humble lowness of his own machine.
CHAPTER XXXVII.
STILL HARPING ON my daughter.”
AND how is it to be?” asked Emma eagerly, as Mr. Jorrocks’s low-crowned hat disappeared past the landaulet.
“Oh, don’t be silly, Emma,” replied Mrs. Flather snappishly, thinking she had better take the high hand, and see if that would prevent Emma attempting it.
“Nay, my own dear mamma,” said Emma coaxingly, “you surely won’t be angry with your own Emma on such an important day.”
“Important day, forsooth!” muttered Mrs. Flather; “I’ve no desire for such importance.”
Nay, mamma, wouldn’t you like to see your daughter a duchess?”
“Duchess, indeed,” retorted Mrs. Flather; “you are counting your chickens before they are hatched, I think.”
“Well, marchioness, if you would like that any better,” replied Emma; “for my part, I really think marchioness sounds not only as well as duchess, but is longer and more imposing.”
“I wish you would get such nonsense out of your head, child,” snapped Mrs. Flather, looking very downcast.
“Nay!” exclaimed Emma, alarmed at her countenance, “you don’t mean to say it’s not to be? Speak — tell me,” cried she, looking deadly pale. The carriage then stopped at the door. Emma descended the jingling steps with the feelings of a malefactor going to execution. She hurried into the house, hardly knowing what she was about.
Her mother tardily followed.
“You don’t mean to say,” exclaimed she, as her revered parent entered, “that you’ve made a mess of the thing? — offended the Duke or the Duchess — put them against it any way?”
“Do not worry me, Emma,” replied Mrs. Flather, calmly but sternly.
“Nay, then!” rejoined Emma, “I see what you’ve done! I was sure you would!” exclaimed she, clasping her hands, and, with upturned eyes, bursting into tears.
“You would go,” sobbed Emma.
“I couldn’t help it, my dear,” replied Mrs. Flather.
“Don’t tell me!” screamed Emma, at the top of her voice, her choler rising as her mamma softened. “I told you you would make a mess of it — your commonplace matter-of-fact way of going to work, just as if you were bargaining for butter. You would go!” screamed she again, at the top of her voice, throwing herself into an easy-chair.
A copious flood of tears deprived her for a time of further utterance.
“And I dare say you’ve irretrievably ruined it,” sobbed Emma, looking out of her pocket handkerchief.
Mrs. Flather was silent.
“I was sure you had!” screamed Emma, jumping up, and stamping violently on the floor with both feet. “Oh, what a thing it is to be led by a person without feeling or discretion!”
Another shower of tears followed this filial observation.
“Oh dear! oh dear! that I should ever have let you go by yourself — I might have been sure what would happen.”
Mrs. Flather looked foolish, not knowing whether to vindicate her conduct, or let her daughter have her “fling.” At length she spoke. —
“My dear child,” said she, “you do me great injustice.”
“Don’t injustice me!” screamed Emma; “it’s you that’s done me injustice. Why can’t you let me manage my own affairs my own way?”
“I did it all for the best,” observed Mrs. Flather calmly.
“I know nothing about best — you couldn’t have done it worse if you tried. I’ll be bound to say, you’ve disgusted the Duke, and the Duchess, and the” — Here Emma again burst into an overpowering flood of tears. This continued for some time, during which she tried to command her temper, and summon resolution to bear the sad dénouement.
“Come, tell me all about it,” said she at length, folding her wet handkerchief in a heap, and fixing her red eyes on her disconcerted mamma.
“Well, my dear, I’ve nothing more to tell,” said Mrs. Flather vacantly.
“Nothing more to tell!” exclaimed Emma; “why, you’ve told me nothing — you left me to conjecture all.”
“And very well you’ve guessed it,” thought Mrs. Flather; but this she kept to herself, fearing a missile at her head might be the reward of her temerity.
“Well, my dear,” commenced Mrs. Flather again, “I just went as we arranged, you know.”
“Well, and who did you see first?” interrupted Emma.
“Oh, the Duchess,” replied Mrs. Flather; “you know I couldn’t ask for the Duke.”
“Well, and what said the Du
chess? How did you begin? — tell me all quickly, or I shall die of suspense.”
“The Duchess was very polite — extremely polite.”
“Oh, that’s all understood — all matter of course — great people are always polite,” sobbed Emma. “And how did you begin?” asked she; “did you blurt out at once what you’d come for, or felt your way?”
“Of course not,” replied Mrs. Flather; “I talked about indifferent things, and got gradually on till we talked about James, and then I broached the subject as delicately as possible.” —
- “And what said the Duchess?” asked Emma. “How did she take it?”
“Why, she was very civil — extremely civil; but she evidently didn’t wish for it, at least she wasn’t anxious about it.”
“Odious woman! I always thought she would be the difficulty,” observed Emma. “The Duke’s worth fifty of her.”
“Thought James was too young to settle,” continued Mrs. Flather; “didn’t know his own mind perhaps. Still if the Duke wished it, she had no objection.”
“And did you see the Duke?” asked Emma eagerly, still hoping there was a chance.
“I did,” replied Mrs. Flather firmly.
“Well, go on!” said Emma eagerly.
“And he wouldn’t hear of it.”
“The old least!” exclaimed Emma. “What reason did he give?”
“None, I think,” replied Mrs. Flather; “he got into such a passion that I was glad to escape to the Duchess again.”
“Odious old infidel!” ejaculated Emma, bursting into a fresh flood of tears. “And is there no hope?” sobbed she, again looking out of her wet handkerchief, like the sun from the watery clouds. “Did you see James?”
“No,” replied Mrs. Flather, “he never appeared.”
“He wouldn’t use me so,” sobbed Emma, thinking of the kiss and squeezing he gave her.
“The Duke will never hear of it, I’m sure,” observed Mrs. Flather. “You don’t know what a passion he was in.”