CHAPTER XXI

A FRIGHTFUL COLLISION! BECKFORD v. BEN

S our friend fancied himself luxuriating in a run with the Cottesmore from the top of Ranksborough Hill, he was suddenly disturbed by a loud cry of—

“Murder! Murder! Murder! Here, Sir! Here!” and Benjamin came bursting into the room with anger and fear depicted in his face, exclaiming, “Please, Sir! here, Sir! that great hugly beast’s taken the shoulder o’ mutton onto his plate, and swears the taters and gravy are good enough for Betsay and me.”

“Taken the shoulder of mutton onto his plate,” repeated Mr. Jorrocks in astonishment, “impossible, Binjimin! the man told me he had no appetite at all.”

“Oh, but he has,” retorted Benjamin with redoubled energy, “and he swears he’ll pick his teeth with the bone, and break my ’ead with it when he’s done—I never see’d such a great hugly beast in all my life.”

“Vell, I’ll go and see arter this,” said Mr. Jorrocks, shaking his head, and buttoning up his breeches pockets, as he rose from his chair with the air of a man determined to show fight.

“How now!” roared Jorrocks, bursting into the kitchen, to the astonishment of James Pigg, who, knife in hand, was cutting away at the shoulder of mutton, to the infinite indignation of Betsay, who seemed about to contend for her share of the prog.

“How now!” repeated Mr. Jorrocks in a still louder voice, which had the effect of making Pigg drop the mutton and jump up from the table.

“Didn’t you tell me,” said Mr. Jorrocks, speaking very slowly at the commencement, and boiling up as he went on, “didn’t you tell me as ’ow that you hadn’t no happetite, and yet I finds you seizin’ the meat wot’s to serve the kitchen for dinner and the parlour for lunch.—Vot do you mean by sich haudacity, you great long-legged Scotch sinner!”

“ ’Ord bliss ye,” replied Pigg, “ar was nabbut teasin’ yon bit bowdekite,” pointing to Benjamin; “mar appetite may be a bit brisker this morn than at most times, for ar had a lang walk, but ar wasn’t gannin’ to eat all the grub; only that bit bastard wad set up his gob, and say ar was to be in onder him, see ar thought ar’d jist let him see whether or no at startin’.”

“Vell, but,” replied Mr. Jorrocks, calmly, but firmly, “fightin’ von’t do: I doesn’t grudge you the matter o’ the mutton, but there must be unanimity and concord, or we shalln’t kill no foxes. Binjimin’s a fine bouy,” continued he, looking at him, “and will fulfil the duties of his station, by which means alone a man can rise to heminence and distinction—hem! get fat and rich, werry great things, hem!—give satisfaction, and gain unbounded applause, hem!—so now jest be’ave and settle yourselves quietly to your dinners, and don’t let me have any more nonsense”—saying which Mr. Jorrocks walked deliberately out of the kitchen, and shut the door loudly upon the party. But though our worthy friend had thus apparently settled the difficulty, he was too good a judge not to see the importance of an early understanding between Pigg and Benjamin as to their relative situations; and, as the latter had to be lowered to the advancement of the former, Mr. Jorrocks had to summon all his dexterity to reduce the one without giving a triumph to the other. Not that Ben would have been difficult to replace, or indeed any loss, but Mr. Jorrocks did not like losing all the training he had given him, and which he still flattered himself would work him into a good and cheap servant. Besides, Jorrocks had committed himself to Ben by ordering him another pair of top boots in lieu of the brown paper ones, and it was hopeless expecting to get another pair of legs that they would fit. Mr. Jorrocks knew the boy too well to suppose that he would easily brook having any one put over him, and the way of doing it occupied our master’s thoughts all the afternoon, and through his dinner. As the shades of evening were succeeded by winter’s darkness, and Mr. Jorrocks had empited his third beaker of brandy and water, he stirred his fire, and rang for candles.

Benjamin speedily appeared but, instead of allowing the youth to depart upon bringing the composites, he ordered him to take a chair on the other side of the table, and listen to what he had to say. Mr. Jorrocks then arranged the candles so that one threw a light on the boy and the other on his book, without their being too near the fire to suffer from the heat. Thus prepared, he gave the fire a finishing poke, and clearing the voice with a substantial hem! addressed the boy as follows:—

“Now, Binjimin,” said he, “the ’igh road to fame and to fortin’ is open to you—there is no saying what keenness, combined with sagacity and cleanliness, may accomplish. You have all the ingredients of a great man about you, and hopportunity only is wantin’ to dewelope them.”

“Yez-ir,” said Benjamin, assenting to the proposition.

“You must eschew tip-cat, and marbles, and takin’ backs from bouys i’ the streets,” continued Mr. Jorrocks, “and turn the maincock o’ your mind entirely on to what Mr. Delmé Radcliffe well calls the Noble Science.”

“Yez-ir,” assented Benjamin again.

Mr. Jorrocks paused, for it was as far as he had arranged matters in his mind, and the answer rather put him out. “Now, Binjimin,” at length resumed he, opening his book apparently at random as he spoke, “this book is the werry best book wot ever was written, and is worth all other works put together. It is the himmortal Peter Beckford’s Thoughts upon ’Unting. Thoughts upon ’Unting!” repeated Mr. Jorrocks, casting up his eyes to the ceiling. “My vig, wot a title! Take any page of the book you like, and it’s full of reason and genuine substantial knowledge. See!” said Mr. Jorrocks, “I’ve opened it at page 268, and how his opinions tally with my own.

“ ‘Hegerness and impetuhosity,’ says he, ‘are such essential parts of this diwersion, that I am never more surprised than when I see a fox-’unter without them.’ Charming idea!” exclaimed Mr. Jorrocks, looking up again at the ceiling. “Dash my vig! how true it is. Who ever heard of a lazy fox-’unter? A man may be late for everything—late to bed, late to breakfast, late to the lord mayor’s show—but if he’s a real out-and-outer, he’ll never be late at the kiver side. Vot, I ax, should be done with a man wot is slack? Wot should be done with a man wot is slack, I axes you, Binjimin?” repeated Mr. Jorrocks, after pausing for an answer.

Benjamin was beat for a reply; but seeing his master’s glistening optics fixed upon him, he at length drawled out, “Don’t know, I’m sure.”

“Don’t know, you beggar!” responded Mr. Jorrocks, bristling as he spoke, “I’ll tell you then, you warmint. He should be ’ung—choked—tucked up short, in fact!”

“Yez-ir,” said Benjamin, quite agreeable.

“Now then,” continued Mr. Jorrocks, searching in the table of contents for the chapter he wanted, “I wants to tell you what the great Mr. Beckford says about the vipper-in, and I begs you’ll pay ’tickler ’tention to it, for every word deserves to be printed i’ letters o’ gold, and then, when you understand the duties o’ your hoffice, James Pigg and you will go ’and-in-’and together, like the sign of the Mutual Assurance hoffice, and we shall have no more wranglin’ about shoulders o’ mutton or who’s to have the upper ’and.—’Unting is a thing,” continued the M.F.H., “wot admits of no diwersity of opinion—no diwision of interests. We must be all on one side like the ’andle of a tin-pot, or like Bridgenorth election. The master, the ’ounds, and the servants, are one great unity, radiatin’ from a common centre, like the threads of a Bedfordshire bobbin pillow—hem—and all sort o’ thing—Now,” continued Mr. Jorrocks, turning to the book,—“here’s the chapter wot I wonts,—No.9, page one hundred and twenty-two, and again, let me entreat your earnest attention.” Mr. Jorrocks then commenced reading as follows:—

“With regard to the vipper-in, he should be attentive and obedient to the ’untsman;’—attentive and obedient to the ’untsman, you hear, Binjimin, that is to say, always on the look-out for orders, and ready to obey them—not ’anging back, shufflin’, and tryin’ to shirk ’em, but cheerful and willin’; ‘and as his ’oss,’ says the immortal author, ‘will probably have most to do, the lighter he is the better, though if he be a good ’ossman the objection of his weight will be sufficiently counter-balanced.’

“Then mark what he says—

“ ‘He must not be conceited.’—That’s a beautiful idee,” observed Mr. Jorrocks, fixing his eyes on the boy, “and one to which I must ’eartily say ‘ditto.’

“ ‘He must not be conceited!’ No, indeed he must not, if he’s to serve under me, and wishes to ’scape the ’quaintance of my big vip. No conceited beggar will ever do for J.J. ‘I had one fomerly,’ ” continued Mr. Jorrocks, reading on, “ ‘who, ’stead of stoppin’ the ’ounds as he ought, would try to kill a fox by himself. This fault is unpardonable.’

“Dash my vig if it isn’t,” exclaimed Mr. Jorrocks, “a nasty, dirty, shabby, selfish trick into the bargain.—’Ow I would trounce a chap wot I caught at that game—I’d teach him to kill foxes by himself. But ’ark to me again, Binjimin.

“ ‘He should always maintain to the ’untsman’s holloa, and stop such ’ounds as diwide from it.’

“That’s excellent sense and plain English,” observed Mr. Jorrocks, looking at the boy. “ ‘He should always maintain to the ’untsman’s holloa.’ Do ye ’ear, Binjimin?”

“Yez-ir,” replied the boy.

“ ‘When stopped, he should get forrard with them, arter the ’untsman.

“Good sense again,” observed Mr. Jorrocks.

“ ‘He must always be content to hact a hunder part.’

“Mark those words, Binjimin, and let them be engraved on your mind’s memory.

“ ‘He must always be content to hact a hunder part.’ ”

Mr. Jorrocks then omitted the qualifying sentence that follows, and proceeded in his reading.

“ ‘You have heard me say, that when there is much riot, I prefer an excellent vipper-in to an excellent ’untsman. The opinion, I believe, is new; I must therefore endeavour to explain it. My meanin’ is this—that I think I should have better sport, and kill more foxes with a moderate ’untsman, and an excellent vipper-in, than with the best of ’untsmen without such an assistant You will say, perhaps, that a good ’untsman will make a good vipper-in, not such, however, as I mean;—his talent must be born with him.’

“ ‘His talent must be born with him,’ ” repeated Mr. Jorrocks, “that is to say, he must have the bump of Fox-un-ta-tiveness werry strongly deweloped;”—adding to himself, “wonder if that beggar Binjimin, has it.” He then resumed his reading.

“ ‘My reasons are that good ’ounds (bad I would not keep),’—Nor I, nouther,”—observed Mr. Jorrocks,—“ ‘oftener need the one than the other; and genius, which in a vipper-in, if attended by obedience, his first requisite, can do no ’urt; in an ’untsman, is a dangerous, though a desirable quality; and if not accompanied with a large share of prudence, and I may say, ’umility, will oftentimes spoil your sport and ’urt your ’ounds. A gen’leman told me that he heard the famous Will Dean, when his ’ounds were runnin’ ’ard in a line with Daventry, from whence they were at that time many miles distant, swear exceedingly at the vipper-in.’

“A werry improper proceedin on his part,” observed Mr. Jorrocks, without looking off the book.

“ ‘Sayin’, Wot business have you ’ere?—the man was ’mazed at the question—Why don’t you know,’ said Dean, ‘and be bad worded to you, that the great earth at Daventry is open?—The man got forward and reached the earth jest time enough to see the fox go in.’

“’Ow provokin’,” observed Mr. Jorrocks, “absolutely distressin’—enough to make a Harchbishop swear. Don’t know that I ever read any thing more ’eart-rendin’. The ’ounds most likely been racin’ and tearin’ for blood, and then done out on’t. Dash my vig if it hadn’t been a main earth, I’d ha’ dug him!” continued he, thinking the case over.

Presently, a loud snore interrupted our friend, and looking up, Mr. Jorrocks discovered Benjamin sound asleep, with his head hanging over his left shoulder. Shutting the book in disgust, Jorrocks took a deliberate aim at his whipper-in’s head, and discharged the volume with such precision, that he knocked the back off the book.

Benjamin then ran roaring out of the room, vowing that Jorrocks had fractured his skull, and that he would “take the law of him” for it.