by R S Surtees
The estate, like the game, was rather deficient in quantity, but Browne was a wise man and made the most of what he had, and when he used to talk about his “manor” on ’Change, people thought he had at least a thousand acres — the extent a cockney generally advertises for, when he wants to take a shooting-place. The following is a sketch of what he had: The east, as far as the eye could reach, was bounded by Norwood, a name dear to cockneys, and the scene of many a furtive kiss; the hereditaments and premises belonging to Isaac Cheatum, Esq. ran parallel with it on the west, containing sixty-three acres, “be the same more or less,” separated from which, by a small brook or runner of water, came the estate of Mr. Timms, consisting of sixty acres, three roods, and twenty-four perches, commonly called or known by the name of Fordham; next to it were two allotments in right of common, for all manner of cattle, except cows, upon Streatham Common, from whence up to Rosalinda Castle, on the west, lay the estate of Mr. Browne, consisting of fifty acres and two perches. Now it so happened that Browne had formerly the permission to sport all the way up to Norwood, a distance of a mile and a half, and consequently he might have been said to have the right of shooting in Norwood itself, for the keepers only direct their attention to the preservation of the timber and the morals of the visitors; but since his composition with his creditors, Mr. Cheatum, who had “gone to the wall” himself in former years, was so scandalised at Browne doing the same, that no sooner did his name appear in the Gazette, than Cheatum withdrew his permission, thereby cutting him off from Norwood and stopping him in pursuit of his game.
Joe’s proposition being duly seconded, Mr. Jorrocks, in the most orthodox manner, flushed off his old flint and steel fire-engine, and proceeded to give it an uncommon good loading. The Yorkshireman, with a look of disgust, mingled with despair, and a glance at Joe’s plush breeches and top-boots, did the same, while Nosey, in the most considerate sportsmanlike manner, merely shouldered a stick, in order that there might be no delicacy with his visitors, as to who should shoot first — a piece of etiquette that aids the escape of many a bird in the neighbourhood of London.
Old Tom — a most unfortunate old hare, that what with the harriers, the shooters, the snarers, and one thing and another, never knew a moment’s peace, and who must have started in the world with as many lives as a cat — being doomed to receive the first crack on this occasion, our sportsmen stole gently down the fallow, at the bottom of which were the turnips, wherein he was said to repose; but scarcely had they reached the hurdles which divided the field, before he was seen legging it away clean out of shot. Jorrocks, who had brought his gun to bear upon him, could scarcely refrain from letting drive, but thinking to come upon him again by stealth, as he made his circuit for Norwood, he strode away across the allotments and Fordham estate, and took up a position behind a shed which stood on the confines of Mr. Timms’s and Mr. Cheatum’s properties. Here, having procured a rest for his gun, he waited until old Tom, who had tarried to nip a few blades of green grass that came in his way, made his appearance. Presently he came cantering along the outside of the wood, at a careless, easy sort of pace, betokening either perfect indifference for the world’s mischief, or utter contempt of cockney sportsmen altogether.
He was a melancholy, woe-begone-looking animal, long and lean, with a slight inclination to grey on his dingy old coat, one that looked as though he had survived his kindred and had already lived beyond his day. Jorrocks, however, saw him differently, and his eyes glistened as he came within range of his gun. A well-timed shot ends poor Tom’s miseries! He springs into the air, and with a melancholy scream rolls neck over heels. Knowing that Pompey would infallibly spoil him if he got up first, Jorrocks, without waiting to load, was in the act of starting off to pick him up, when, at the first step, he found himself in the grasp of a Herculean monster, something between a coal-heaver and a gamekeeper, who had been secreted behind the shed. Nosey Browne, who had been watching his movements, holloaed out to Jorrocks to “hold hard,” who stood motionless, on the spot from whence he fired, and Browne was speedily alongside of him. “You are on Squire Cheatum’s estate,” said the man; “and I have authority to take up all poachers and persons found unlawfully trespassing; what’s your name?” “He’s not on Cheatum’s estate,” said Browne. “He is,” said the man. “You’re a liar,” said Browne. “You’re another,” said the man. And so they went on; for when such gentlemen meet, compliments pass current. At length the keeper pulled out a foot-rule, and keeping Jorrocks in the same position he caught him, he set-to to measure the distance of his foot from the boundary, taking off in a line from the shed; when it certainly did appear that the length of a big toe was across the mark, and putting up his measure again, he insisted upon taking Jorrocks before a magistrate for the trespass. Of course, no objection could be made, and they all adjourned to Mr. Boreem’s, when the whole case was laid before him. To cut a long matter short — after hearing the pros and cons, and referring to the Act of Parliament, his worship decided that a trespass had been committed; and though, he said, it went against the grain to do so, he fined Jorrocks in the mitigated penalty of one pound one.
This was a sad damper to our heroes, who returned to the castle with their prog untouched and no great appetite for dinner. Being only a family party, when Mrs. B —— retired, the subject naturally turned upon the morning’s mishap, and at every glass of port Jorrocks waxed more valiant, until he swore he would appeal against the “conwiction”; and remaining in the same mind when he awoke the next morning, he took the Temple in his way to St. Botolph Lane and had six-and-eightpence worth with Mr. Capias the attorney, who very judiciously argued each side of the question without venturing an opinion, and proposed stating a case for counsel to advise upon.
As usual, he gave one that would cut either way, though if it had any tendency whatever it was to induce Jorrocks to go on; and he not wanting much persuasion, it will not surprise our readers to hear that Jorrocks, Capias, and the Yorkshireman were seen a few days after crossing Waterloo Bridge in a yellow post-chaise, on their way to Croydon sessions.
After a “guinea” consultation at the “Greyhound,” they adjourned to the court, which was excessively crowded, Jorrocks being as popular with the farmers and people as Cheatum was the reverse. Party feeling, too, running rather high at the time, there had been a strong “whip” among the magistrates to get a full attendance to reverse Boreem’s conviction, who had made himself rather obnoxious on the blue interest at the election. Of course they all came in new hats, and sat on the bench looking as wise as gentlemen judges generally do.
Footnote 15: Magistrates always buy their hats about session times, as they have the privilege of keeping their hats on their blocks in court.
One hundred and twenty-two affiliation cases (for this was in the old Poor Law time) having been disposed of, about one o’clock in the afternoon, the chairman, Mr. Tomkins of Tomkins, moved the order of the day. He was a perfect prototype of a county magistrate — with a bald powdered head covered by a low-crowned, broad-brimmed hat, hair terminating behind in a queue, resting on the ample collar of a snuff-brown coat, with a large bay-window of a corporation, with difficulty retained by the joint efforts of a buff waistcoat, and the waistband of a pair of yellow leather breeches. His countenance, which was solemn and grave in the extreme, might either be indicative of sense or what often serves in the place of wisdom — when parties can only hold their tongues — great natural stupidity. From the judge’s seat, which he occupied in the centre of the bench, he observed, with immense dignity, “There is an appeal of Jorrocks against Cheatum, which we, the bench of magistrates of our lord the king, will take if the parties are ready,” and immediately the court rang with “Jorrocks and Cheatum! Jorrocks and Cheatum! Mr. Capias, attorney-at-law! Mr. Capias answer to his name! Mr. Sharp attorney-at-law! Mr. Sharp’s in the jury-room. — Then go fetch him directly,” from the ushers and bailiffs of the court; for though Tomkins of Tomkins was slow himself, he insisted upo
n others being quick, and was a great hand at prating about saving the time of the suitors. At length the bustle of counsel crossing the table, parties coming in and others leaving court, bailiffs shouting, and ushers responding, gradually subsided into a whisper of, “That’s Jorrocks! That’s Cheatum!” as the belligerent parties took their places by their respective counsel. Silence having been called and procured, Mr. Smirk, a goodish-looking man for a lawyer, having deliberately unfolded his brief, which his clerk had scored plentifully in the margin, to make the attorney believe he had read it very attentively, rose to address the court — a signal for half the magistrates to pull their newspapers out of their pockets, and the other half to settle themselves down for a nap, all the sport being considered over when the affiliation cases closed.
“I have the honour to appear on behalf of Mr. Jorrocks,” said Mr. Smirk, “a gentleman of the very highest consideration — a fox-hunter — a shooter — and a grocer. In ordinary cases it might be necessary to prove the party’s claim to respectability, but, in this instance, I feel myself relieved from any such obligation, knowing, as I do, that there is no one in this court, no one in these realms — I might almost add, no one in this world — to whom the fame of my most respectable, my most distinguished, and much injured client is unknown. Not to know JORROCKS is indeed to argue oneself unknown.”
“This is a case of no ordinary interest, and I approach it with a deep sense of its importance, conscious of my inability to do justice to the subject, and lamenting that it has not been entrusted to abler hands. It is a case involving the commercial and the sporting character of a gentleman against whom the breath of calumny has never yet been drawn — of a gentleman who in all the relations of life, whether as a husband, a fox-hunter, a shooter, or a grocer, has invariably preserved that character and reputation, so valuable in commercial life, so necessary in the sporting world, and so indispensable to a man moving in general society. Were I to look round London town in search of a bright specimen of a man combining the upright, sterling integrity of the honourable British merchant of former days with the ardour of the English fox-hunter of modern times, I would select my most respectable client, Mr. Jorrocks. He is a man for youth to imitate and revere! Conceive, then, the horror of a man of his delicate sensibility — of his nervous dread of depreciation — being compelled to appear here this day to vindicate his character, nay more, his honour, from one of the foulest attempts at conspiracy that was ever directed against any individual. I say that a grosser attack was never made upon the character of any grocer, and I look confidently to the reversion of this unjust, unprecedented conviction, and to the triumphant victory of my most respectable and public-spirited client. It is not for the sake of the few paltry shillings that he appeals to this court — it is not for the sake of calling in question the power of the constituted authorities of this county — but it is for the vindication and preservation of a character dear to all men, but doubly dear to a grocer, and which once lost can never be regained. Look, I say, upon my client as he sits below the witness-box, and say, if in that countenance there appears any indication of a lawless or rebellious spirit; look, I say, if the milk of human kindness is not strikingly portrayed in every feature, and truly may I exclaim in the words of the poet:”
If to his share some trifling errors fall,
Look in his face, and you’ll forget them all.’
“I regret to be compelled to trespass upon the valuable time of the court; but, sir, this appeal is based on a trespass, and one good trespass deserves another.”
The learned gentleman then proceeded to detail the proceedings of the day’s shooting, and afterwards to analyse the enactments of the new Game Bill, which he denounced as arbitrary, oppressive, and ridiculous, and concluded a long and energetic speech, by calling upon the court to reverse the decision of the magistrate, and not support the preposterous position of fining a man for a trespass committed by his toe.
After a few minutes had elapsed, Mr. Sergeant Bumptious, a stiff, bull-headed little man, desperately pitted with the smallpox, rose to reply, and looking round the court, thus commenced:
“Five-and-thirty years have I passed in courts of justice, but never, during a long and extensive practice, have I witnessed so gross a perversion of that sublimest gift, called eloquence, as within the last hour” — here he banged his brief against the table, and looked at Mr. Smirk, who smiled.— “I lament, sir, that it has not been employed in a better cause — (bang again — and another look). My learned friend has, indeed, laboured to make the worse appear the better cause — to convert into a trifle one of the most outrageous acts that ever disgraced a human being or a civilised country. Well did he describe the importance of this case! — important as regards his client’s character — important as regards this great and populous county — important as regards those social ties by which society is held together — important as regards a legislative enactment, and important as regards the well-being and prosperity of the whole nation — (bang, bang, bang). I admire the bombastic eloquence with which my learned friend introduced his most distinguished client — his most delicate minded — sensitive client! — Truly, to hear him speaking I should have thought he had been describing a lovely, blushing young lady, but when he comes to exhibit his paragon of perfection, and points out that great, red-faced, coarse, vulgar-looking, lubberly lump of humanity — (here Bumptious looked at Jorrocks as he would eat him) — sitting below the witness-box, and seeks to enlist the sympathies of your worships on the Bench — of you, gentlemen, the high-minded, shrewd, penetrating judges of this important cause — (and Bumptious smiled and bowed along the Bench upon all whose eyes he could catch) — on behalf of such a monster of iniquity, it does make one blush for the degradation of the British Bar — (bang — bang — bang — Jorrocks here looked unutterable things). Does my learned friend think by displaying his hero as a fox-hunter, and extolling his prowess in the field, to gain over the sporting magistrates on the Bench? He knows little of the upright integrity — the uncompromising honesty — the undeviating, inflexible impartiality that pervades the breast of every member of this tribunal, if he thinks for the sake of gain, fear, favour, hope, or reward, to influence the opinion, much less turn the judgment, of any one of them.” (Here Bumptious bowed very low to them all and laid his hand upon his heart. Tomkins nodded approbation.) “Far, far be it from me to dwell with unbecoming asperity on the conduct of anyone — we are all mortals — and alike liable to err; but when I see a man who has been guilty of an act which has brought him all but within the verge of the prisoners’ dock; I say, when I see a man who has been guilty of such an outrage on society as this ruffian Jorrocks, come forward with the daring effrontery that he has this day done, and claim redress where he himself is the offender, it does create a feeling in my mind divided between disgust and amazement” — (bang).
Here Jorrock’s cauldron boiled over, and rising from his seat with an outstretched shoulder-of-mutton fist, he bawled out, “D — n you, sir, what do you mean?”
The court was thrown into amazement, and even Bumptious quailed before the fist of the mighty Jorrocks. “I claim the protection of the court,” he exclaimed. Mr. Tomkins interposed, and said he should certainly order Mr. Jorrocks into custody if he repeated his conduct, adding that it was “most disrespectful to the justices of our lord the king.”
Bumptious paused a little to gather breath and a fresh volume of venom wherewith to annihilate Jorrocks, and catching his eye, he transfixed him like a rattlesnake, and again resumed.
“How stands the case?” said he. “This cockney grocer — for after all he is nothing else — who I dare say scarcely knows a hawk from a hand-saw — leaves his figs and raisins, and sets out on a marauding excursion into the county of Surrey, and regardless of property — of boundaries — of laws — of liberties — of life itself — strides over every man’s land, letting drive at whatever comes in his way! The hare he shot on this occasion was a pet hare! — For t
hree successive summers had Miss Cheatum watched and fed it with all the interest and anxiety of a parent. I leave it to you, gentlemen, who have daughters of your own, with pets also, to picture to yourselves the agony of her mind in finding that her favourite had found its way down the throat of that great guzzling, gormandising, cockney cormorant; and then, forsooth, because he is fined for the outrageous trespass, he comes here as the injured party, and instructs his counsel to indulge in Billingsgate abuse that would disgrace the mouth of an Old Bailey practitioner! I regret that instead of the insignificant fine imposed upon him, the law did not empower the worthy magistrate to send him to the treadmill, there to recreate himself for six or eight months, as a warning to the whole fraternity of lawless vagabonds.” Here he nodded his head at Jorrocks as much as to say, “I’ll trounce you, my boy!” He then produced maps and plans of the different estates, and a model of the shed, to show how it had all happened, and after going through the case in such a strain as would induce one to believe it was a trial for murder or high treason, concluded as follows:
“The eyes of England are upon us — reverse this conviction, and you let loose a rebel band upon the country, ripe for treason, stratagem, or spoil — you overturn the finest order of society in the world; henceforth no man’s property will be safe, the laws will be disregarded, and even the upright, talented, and independent magistracy of England brought into contempt. But I feel convinced that your decision will be far otherwise — that by it you will teach these hot-headed — rebellious — radical grocers that they cannot offend with impunity, and show them that there is a law which reaches even the lowest and meanest inhabitant of these realms, that amid these days of anarchy and innovation you will support the laws and aristocracy of this country, that you will preserve to our children, and our children’s children, those rights and blessings which a great and enlightened administration have conferred upon ourselves, and raise for Tomkins of Tomkins and the magistracy of the proud county of Surrey, a name resplendent in modern times and venerated to all eternity.”