CHAPTER LXVI

JORROCKS IN TROUBLE

Doleful’s day of triumph soon arrived, the monotony of Mr. Jorrocks’s summer life seeming likely to be more than compensated by the busy incidents of the autumn. Scarce were the rejoicings of his victory over Doleful finished, ere our worthy friend found himself involved in a more delicate and difficult dilemma than he had ever yet known. The report of the action about the horse having done good service to the London papers in the dulness of autumnal news, Mr. Jorrocks’s conduct and career had been greatly canvassed by cautious citizens, and among others by his next-of-kin, with whom our worthy friend had long been on indifferent terms, or rather no terms at all.

To the uninitiated, the idea of keeping a pack of hounds is looked upon as the surest proof of riches or ruin; an opinion that is periodically confirmed by the papers, in announcements of the great expense certain establishments are kept up at, Leicestershire and Northamptonshire being represented as hunted at an expense of five or six thousand a year, though we dare say the present worthy masters would be glad if they got off for that.

The expense of Mr. Jorrocks’s hounds was estimated in a like ratio, though they did not, perhaps, cost much above as many hundreds. There are two ways of doing everything.

Without impeaching the motives of the parties, or indeed alluding to them in more than a general way, we may briefly state, that our worthy friend’s jollities or eccentricities at length earned for him a commission of lunacy.

After the necessary preliminaries, the Commission was opened in the long room of the Gray’s Inn Coffee-house, in Holborn, where the following highly respectable jury were sworn to inquire into the merits of the allegation:—

Mark Stimpson, Starch-manufacturer, Pimlioo;

John Brown, Greengrocer, High Street, Borough;

Henry Hobbs, Feather and Court Head Dress Maker Hatton Garden;

Richard Jones, Dustman, Edgware Road;

John Lotherington, Shoemaker, Margaret Street, Cavendish Square;

Thomas Coxon, Poulterer, Hadlow Street, Burton Crescent;

William Smith, Islington, Toy-shop-keeper;

James Rounding, Minories, Cheesemonger;

Albert Dunn, Sweeting’s Rents, Newsman;

John Cook, Pentonville, Milkman and Cowkeeper;

George Price, Long Acre, Gin-shop-keeper and Distiller;

John Shaw, Covent Garden, Fruiterer;

Thomas Boggon, Whitechapel, Nightman.

The Commission having been read, Mr. Mark Stimpson was elected foreman of the jury.

Mr. Martin Moonface, the celebrated Chancery lawyer, and Mr. Percy Snobb appeared as counsel for the inquiry; Serjeant Horsefield and Mr. Coltman as counsel for Mr. Jorrocks. Mr. Jorrocks appeared in court, taking his seat beside the learned serjeant, with two papers of Garraway’s sandwiches before him, one labelled “beef,” the other labelled “ham.”

The long room was crowded to excess, the greatest possible interest and sympathy being manifested by the numerous auditors who thronged every part of the house where hearing room could be obtained. An immense number of persons arrived from Handley Cross, and the revenue of the Lilywhite Sand Railway was considerably augmented in consequence. The usual preliminaries having been observed, and silence obtained, Mr. Percy Snobb briefly opened the proceedings, during which Mr. Martin Moonface kept inflating his cheeks, preparatory to his own “let-off.” Mr. Snobb having finished and sunk into his seat, and a proper time having elapsed, Mr. Martin Moonface rose with great solemnity, and addressed himself, promiscuously as it were, in a very deep and sonorous voice, thus:—

“I do not know that I can call to my recollection,” said he, “ever rising to address twelve honest Englishmen with such mingled feelings of gratification and regret as I experience at the present moment.” Here he paused, and ran his eyes along the jurymen to catch a soft one, to whom he could more particularly address himself.

Having selected Mr. Rounding, the cheesemonger, whose ample bald head and staring blue eyes gave sufficient evidence of vacancy, he proceeded:—“Gratification that I should have the advantage of so intelligent —so enlightened—so conscientious a jury, to weigh with poiseless balance the niceties, the delicacies, the subtleties, the intricacies of this complicated case; and regret —deep and poignant regret—that such a step as the present should be found necessary against so meritorious and amiable an individual as the unfortunate gentleman against whom I now appear.” Here Mr. Martin Moonface heaved a heavy sigh, and looked at the back of his brief, on which was marked “50 guineas.”—“Believe me when I say, that nothing but that high sustaining power, the moral consciousness of doing right, could induce me to undertake so thankless—so ungracious a task. No feeling of personal ambition, no consideration of worldly aggrandisement, could tempt me—I may say (and the learned gentleman said it with the most dignified emphasis) could tempt any member of the honourable profession to which it is my pride and glory to belong, to enter upon a case where his own honest, conscientious opinions did not convince him of the propriety—I may say, necessity of the step.” Mr. Moonface then unfolded his brief, and proceeded to pick out the first passage marked with a score in the margin.

“Gentlemen,” said he, “my learned friend, Mr. Snobb, has stated to you the nature of the business that has called us together this day, and in doing so, he properly confined himself to the simple outline usually confided to young gentlemen entering the profession, leaving to me the duty of substantiating the case and filling up the narrative in detail. The name of the gentleman whose state of mind you are this day called upon to consider, as my learned friend has already told you, is Jorrocks, head of the firm ‘Jorrocks and Co.,’ tea dealers and grocers, in the City of London; and in his commercial relations, I am free to admit, that his character and conduct are not only irreproachable, but exemplary in the highest degree. Still, as is generally found to be the case in these inquiries, the blameless tenor of his grocer’s life is mixed up with a strong undercurrent of eccentricity, which has long been observable; and as the murmuring rill, strengthened by tributary streams, rolls on with growing strength until its force attracts the notice of the world, and calls for measures to restrain the torrent of its impetuosity, so Mr. Jorrocks’s oddity has gone on increasing until the present inquiry has become absolutely and indispensably necessary. And let me here observe, gentlemen of the jury, that the more futile and absurd the chimera that obtains possession of a man’s mind, the stronger and more forcible is the argument in favour of the restraining measure; for, assuredly, the farther an unhappy infatuation removes a man from the occupation of trade and the pursuits of a rational being, the stronger and more urgent is the necessity for supplying, through the medium of a next-of-kin, the deficiency that calamity has occasioned.

“I may at once admit that the delusion under which the unfortunate gentleman labours is one of great novelty, and one that I have experienced very considerable difficulty in making myself sufficiently acquainted with to enable me to describe to you. You, gentlemen, if I mistake not, are tradesmen, living in the heart of this great metropolis, and, like myself, have passed your lives in honest, industrious callings, in perfect ignorance of the way that men remote from towns contrive to waste that time which to us is so valuable and productive. You will hardly credit me, I dare say, but I speak under the correction of my learned friends on the other side, who will put me right if I err in the detail—you will hardly credit me, I say, when I tell you, that in some counties of England large assemblies of dogs are annually made, sometimes as many, I am told, as fifty or sixty dogs—”

“’Ounds, you fool!” roared Mr. Jorrocks, from the opposite side of the table, indignant at the unsportsman-like appellation.

“Gentlemen!” exclaimed Mr. Martin Moonface in astonishment, “I call your attention to the unfortunate gentleman. I think his conduct might warrant the closure of the business, even at this early stage of the proceedings, but if you, gentlemen, are not so fully satisfied in your minds of the situation that he is in as to render the further prosecution of the case needless, I must call on the Commissioners, in the exercise of the power with which they are invested, to afford me the protection and freedom from interruption to which I am entitled in the discharge of this most painful and difficult duty.” [Mutual shakes of the head and nods having passed between the gentlemen at the end of the table and Mr. Moonface, and Serjeant Horsefield having remonstrated in an undertone with his client, Mr. Moonface smoothed down his feathers and harked back to the point at which he was interrupted.]

“I was observing, gentlemen of the jury,” said he, again eyeing the cheesemonger, “that in some parts of the country annual hunts take place, for which large gatherings of dogs are made, and assemblies of people are to be found. How long this custom has prevailed is immaterial to the present inquiry, but I believe I am instructed to say, that so far back as the year 1812, Mr. Jorrocks took an active—I may say, a prominent part, in the festivals—for such, I believe, is their character, that have been held in the county of Surrey.

“I should further inform you, in relation to these fêtes, or festivals, that a master or manager of the revels is annually chosen by ballot or otherwise, and the person so elected has the absolute government of the dogs and their doings during the period of his elevation. Accompanying Mr. Jorrocks onward then from his prominent though subordinate situation in the county of Surrey, we at length find him—I think it was in the course of last winter—elected the premier of a festival (here Serjeant Horsefield intimated in a whisper that the technical term was hunt)—I thank my learned friend,” continued Mr. Moonface,—“hunt is the term—elected the premier of a hunt, called the Handley Cross Hunt, and it is, gentlemen, his doings in that capacity that you are more particularly called upon to examine, to form an opinion of the soundness or unsoundness of his understanding.

“I do not know that I am in a situation, nor is it perhaps material to the present inquiry, to explain the nature of the duties connected with the office of a hunt-master; but it must be apparent to you all, that if a person accepts a situation so totally dissimilar to his usual avocations, considerable detriment must arise to his private affairs; and, perhaps, it is not possible to imagine two things more unlike than the calm, reflective genius of a grocer’s business, and the noisy, boisterous, clamorous—riotous, I may say, accompaniment of a hunt management. Not only are the two occupations totally incompatible, but their natural consequences are utterly dissimilar; for one is the honest course of sober industry, pointing, with cheering hand, to that brightest, noblest summit of all mercantile ambition, the possession of the lord mayor’s gilded coach and six, with glittering trumpeters and men in armour, while the other points downwards upon unhallowed scenes of riot and confusion, days made horrible with yelling, and nights spent amid the wildest, the most unprofitable debauchery.

“Thus, gentlemen of the jury, arises the cause of the present inquiry. The promoters of it say that Mr. Jorrocks is neglecting his business, and dissipating his means in mad and unnatural pursuits; while the law says, and wisely does it say it, that a man is not to be permitted to waste his substance in idle, wild, and unprofitable speculations; and when acts are committed which militate against good sense, it becomes the duty of those who are interested in the preservation of a family to call twelve honest, enlightened, conscientious men together to consider the acts that have been committed, and to ask of themselves whether they are the acts of a man blessed with sound discretion, or the acts of one who, though shrewd and intelligent in many respects, is yet visited with some unfortunate weakness that tends to nullify and destroy all the other faculties of which he may be in possession.

“Now, gentlemen, it becomes my duty to explain that there are two sorts of idiots, one the natural-born fool, that hath no understanding from his nativity, and therefore is by law presumed never likely to attain any; and the other a lunatic, or one non compos mentis, who hath understanding, but who, from disease, grief, brandy-and-water, or other accident, hath lost the use of his reason. That great man and commentator, Judge Blackstone, says, ‘A lunatic is one who hath lucid intervals; sometimes enjoying his senses, and sometimes not, and that frequently depending upon the change of the moon.’ Sir Edward Coke, another great legal luminary, places under the head of non compos mentis not only lunatics, but all persons under frenzies. I would particularly direct the attention of the jury to that term, conveying, as it does, a nicer definition of what may be considered sufficient to deprive a man of the custody of his affairs than any other that I am acquainted with. ‘Not only lunatics,’ says the learned judge, ‘but all persons under frenzies,’—all persons, in fact, suffering from distraction of mind, alienation of understanding, or any violent passion, for such, I take it, is the meaning of the word frenzy.

“In all times, under all circumstances, the preservation of a man’s property has been considered worthy the attention of a civilized government. By the Roman law, if a man by notorious prodigality was in danger of wasting his estate, he was looked upon as non compos, and committed to the care of curators, or tutors, by the prætor: ‘Solent prætores, si talem hominem invenerint, qui neque tempus neque finem expensarum habet, sed bona sua dilacerando et dissipando profundit, curatorem ei dare, exemplo furiosi: et tamdiu erunt ambo in curatione, quamdiu vel furiosus sanitatem, vel ille bono mores, receperit.’ And by the laws of Solon such prodigals were branded with perpetual infamy.

“Gentlemen, the promoters of this inquiry are actuated by none but the purest, the best of motives; they do not seek, by a long retrospective search, to expose the foibles of the unfortunate object of the inquiry, to brand him with idiotcy from his birth, or to disturb those commercial transactions with which his name, in connection with the firm to which he belongs, has blended him: all they ask is to dissolve the ridiculous establishment of which he is the head, and to cancel the obligations that may have arisen out of it.

“I have already stated, that in the autumn of last year Mr. Jorrocks allowed himself to be dubbed the Master of the Handley Cross Hunt; and it is from that period that we seek to annul his transactions, and to declare his incompetency to manage his affairs. A violent, a sudden, an uncontrollable frenzy seems to have seized him at the time; for not only did he neglect his warehouse, but absolutely shut up his house in Great Coram Street—a house that I am instructed to say is superior to any in that street—and took one in the town of Handley Cross, in order, as he said, to be nearer the Hunt. His acts there became of the wildest and most eccentric description: he arrayed himself in a scarlet coat with a blue collar, something like a general postman’s, and rode about the country, surrounded by dogs, whooping and holloaing, and blowing a horn: he converted the festivals, which had formerly been few and of periodical occurrence—something, I presume, like the Epping Hunt, of which you all have probably heard—he converted them, I say, into a regular down-right matter of daily business, and whoever did not join him was treated with contempt, and if any one over whose land he trespassed in riotous confusion dared to remonstrate, he was laughed to scorn, or threatened with violence.

“I can hardly expect you to credit the assertion, that men moving in the higher walks of life,—men to whom the public are wont to look for precept and example, abandoned their lawful callings and the elegances of life, and joined the infatuated train of this unfortunate gentleman. Train-bands of men in scarlet moved about the country, striking terror into the minds of elderly ladies, and disturbing the peaceful course of husbandry and trade. Wherever it was known that one of these field-meetings was to be held, it was made in open defiance of the statute against ‘riots, routs, or unlawful assemblies’; trade was suspended, and the plough stood still. If any one were inclined to censure the present proceedings, or stigmatize it as an act of harshness and severity, I would here entreat him to pause and consider the position in which this deluded,—this unhappy individual has been placing himself and his followers. So far from continuing of that opinion, I think he will hail it as one of the brightest, most beautiful blessings of our jurisprudence, that the law steps in through the medium of a next-of-kin, and rescues a man from the consequences of his own unhappy rashness. The wasteful, profligate expenditure of his substance is not the only charge against Mr. Jorrocks; he has outraged the law of the land, and sought the vengeance of offended justice.

“Gentlemen of the jury,” continued Mr. Martin Moonface, very slowly and deliberately, “Jorrocks is, to all intents and purposes, a rioter. So far back as the year 1797, if there is any truth in Chitty’s Criminal Law, a person was indicted for the ancient and apparently harmless custom of kicking about footballs on Shrove Tuesday at Kingston-upon-Thames; and surely that will bear no comparison with the military spectacles that this gentleman’s eccentricity has lately presented to the astonished county in which they took place. The law upon the case I take it to be quite clear. It says, when three persons or more shall assemble themselves together, with an intent mutually to assist one another in the execution of some enterprise of a private nature to the manifest terror of the people, whether the act were of itself lawful or unlawful—mark that, gentlemen, I pray you—whether the act were of itself lawful or unlawful, if they only meet to such a purpose or intent, although they shall after depart of their own accord, without doing anything, this is an unlawful assembly; and if after their first meeting they shall move forward towards the execution of any such act, whether they put their intended purpose in execution or not, this, according to the general opinion, is a rout; and if they execute such a thing indeed, then it is a riot. In Clifford v. Brandon, 2 Campbell, page 370, Chief Justice Mansfield laid it down, that if any person encourages, or promotes, or takes part in riots, whether by words, signs, or gestures, or by wearing the badge or ensign—mark that, gentlemen—by wearing the badge or ensign—which assuredly all the followers of this unfortunate individual did, to wit, scarlet coats with blue collars—he is himself to be considered a rioter; for in this case all are principals. So that you see Jorrocks has not only placed himself in jeopardy, but all those whose wildness, weakness, or wickedness induced them to join the phalanx round his standard.

“What was the cause of its supineness I know not, but government certainly permitted these outrages; and during the whole of last winter, up to the very outburst of spring, Mr. Jorrocks continued this extraordinary career, without let, suit, molestation, hindrance, or interruption. During the whole of that time he never once visited the City of London, or his commercial concerns in St. Botolph’s Lane, or seemed to recollect that he had anything to attend to but these hunt-festivals or meetings.

“The expense of the establishment is wholly incalculable, embracing, as it does, items of most miscellaneous and extraordinary description—hay, straw, corn, beans, bran, curry-combs, dandy-brushes, brooms, balls, pails, pitchforks, whipcord, coals, wood, oil, nitre sulphur, Epsom salts, oatmeal, horse-flesh, farrier, saddler, wheelbarrows, soap, linen, and a hundred other items.

“Nor were Mr. Jorrocks’s eccentricities and extravagances confined to the day-time. I am instructed that public dinners were held, at which he was in the chair, avowedly for the purpose of promoting and organizing these illegal meetings; speeches were delivered in praise of them, songs were composed in honour of their doings by day, and night brought no rest to the unquiet spirits that reigned triumphant at Handley Cross.

“Spring, it appears, puts an end to these hunt-festivals or meetings; and one would naturally infer, that with the close of them would end the tomfoolery of the business. Not so with Mr. Jorrocks. He convened a public meeting of all the disorderly inhabitants of Handley Cross, and delivered a speech or lecture in praise of himself and his doings, and in eulogy of the unaccountable amusement that has brought him into this unhappy position. It is true that other matters were mixed up in his speech; but the very jumble of which it was composed bears evidence of a highly disordered imagination, and he stated that his feelings on the point were too acute to admit of his adhering closely to the text he had prescribed for his oration.

“After this, Mr. Jorrocks returned to his house in Great Coram Street, and resumed his attendance in St. Botolph’s Lane with his former punctuality, to the great joy of his friends, who began to flatter themselves that he had fairly got over his frenzy; when, unfortunately, it broke out with redoubled violence. The first symptoms of it were visible on the morning of the 2nd of October. He had been taking his usual ride in the Regent’s Park, when the sight of some black and blighted dahlias, hanging their heads, and drooping in all directions, completely upset his philosophy. It was not the sudden destruction of these bright and many-coloured beauties that struck the feeling chord of a too sensible imagination, and conjured up mournful reflections on the precarious tenure of all earthly endearments, for far different, I grieve to say, were his thoughts on that occasion. ‘Hurrah! blister my kidneys!’ exclaimed he in delight, ‘it is a frost!—the dahlias are dead!’ Gentlemen of the jury,” continued Mr. Martin Moonface, throwing up his arms, and putting himself in the attitude of a spread eagle, “can you imagine a sane man indulging in such an exclamation on such an occasion! ‘Hurrah! blister my kidneys! it is a frost! —the dahlias are dead!’ And so, because Jenkins’s dahlias were out down by the frost, Jorrocks saw cause to rejoice at the circumstance—unfortunate individual!”

“You are another indiwidual!” roared Mr. Jorrocks, in a rage at being considered a subject for Mr. Martin Moonface’s pity.

[The Commissioners interpose with great gravity, amid the uproarious laughter of the spectators; and Mr. Jorrocks eyes Mr. Martin Moonface as though he would eat him.]

“Well, then, gentlemen of the jury, as I was observing, the sight of these weather-stricken dahlias had such an effect upon his imagination—and awful, indeed, is it to contemplate such a visitation—that instead of pursuing his ride, as he was wont to do, one-and-twenty times round the inner circle, he immediately turned his horse’s head towards home, ate a hurried breakfast, and set off by the Lilywhite-sand Railway for Handley Cross, without giving the slightest intimation to his poor distracted wife, whose feelings may be imagined but can never be described, and without sending any notification whatever to his partners in St. Botolph’s Lane. Three bills of exchange, to a large amount, were presented for payment that day, one being for oatmeal supplied at Handley Cross, of which his partners knew nothing; and the consequence was that a protest became necessary, to the injury alike of his private character and his mercantile reputation. True it is that the following day he wrote a few hurried lines, ordering his servant, Benjamin Brady, to be sent down; and I will now proceed to relate the purpose for which he wanted him, and it is hence that the present inquiry more immediately originates. It appears that by some unaccountable mystery the sight of these withered dahlias had conjured up recollections of the hunt-festivals of the previous winter, and, determining to eclipse all his former doings, he had gone down to Handley Cross to inspect a numerous progeny of puppies that he had had scattered about the country, which he intended to add to the extensive retinue of the previous season, and which a man he has in his pay, called Pigg, had been left in the charge of.

“On his arrival at Handley Cross, it appeared that a disease had broken out among the horses of that place, which ended in the deaths of very many. Among others, Mr. Flasher, the gentleman coachman of the Handley Cross ‘True Blue Spankaway,’ lost eighteen. Mr. Giles Eden, a post-master, lost ten; Mr. Duncan Nevin, four; and various other people lost smaller numbers, amounting, in the aggregate, to fifty-three. Now it would appear, so far as any deduction can be drawn from the conduct of individuals in the unhappy state of this unfortunate gentleman, that on leaving home it was his intention to return either the same or on the following day; but, hearing of the deaths of these horses, had altered his determination, and he resolved to endeavour to turn the misfortunes of others to some advantage to himself; and, certainly, he adopted a system that no one but himself would ever have thought of. He commenced a negotiation with the owners of the dead horses—fifty-three in number, I beg you to remember—and bought up the whole at an average of nine shillings and sixpence a head, hide and all. And, gentlemen of the jury, what do you think he did with them?—buried them under apple-trees?—retailed them to cat’s-meat mongers?—dragged them away to distant places to rot without tainting the air? No such thing! He skinned and stacked them for winter use!—actually stacked the dead bodies of fifty-three horses that had died of disease in the precincts of the town of Handley Cross! Was there ever such a thing heard of? I ask, was it likely such a thing could be tolerated? Certainly not! The authorities—the churchwardens, overseers, constables, &c., interfered—a fracas took place between them and Mr. Jorrocks and his men, while in the act of stacking, which ended in the stackers being captured and taken before the magistrates of Handley Cross. The sequel of the story it is needless to trouble you with. Your intelligent minds cannot require more than evidence of the facts I have imperfectly laid before you to enable you to arrive at the only conclusion that is open on such an occasion. Remember, gentlemen, this is not a case entailing on any party the infliction of punishment from the law; it is a simple question of domestic policy, performed in public, for the safety of the subject. We ask you to save this unfortunate gentleman from himself, and from the consequence of his own acts—in fact, to save him from ruin, and keep him in affluence. After the patient attention with which you have honoured me, I cannot for a moment doubt that the circumstances I have related have made the impression on your minds that they must have made on the minds of every one open to conviction; and though you might not consider the exhibition he made of himself as master of the hunt revels, the profligate expenditure of his substance in support of his fictitious dignity, the tenor of his lectures, taken singly, of sufficient weight to warrant you in depriving him of the management of his affairs, yet, collectively, that they are amply sufficient, even without that great, that crowning feat of all—the stacking of dead horses—to the danger of the lives of her Majesty’s liege subjects.

“With your permission, then, I will proceed to call witnesses to substantiate the statements I have made.”

The Commissioners here intimated they would like to retire for a few minutes, and during their absence the court became a scene of great uproar, Mr. Jorrocks protesting at the top of his voice against the whole proceedings, inquiring most emphatically, “’Ow vas I to know, wen I stacked the ’osses, that it was a going to turn ’ot weather again?” The return of the Commissioners restored silence, who having got settled in their seats, Mr. Moonface, with great dignity, exclaimed, “Call Tony Lumpkin;” whereupon a diminutive apology of a man skipped into the witness-box, and, being sworn, proceeded to give evidence, of which the following is the material outline:—Is a tailor at Handley Cross and Cranbourne Alley, London; has had an establishment in the former place about three years. Remembers Mr. Jorrocks’s entry into Handley Cross when he came to take possession of the hounds, and heard his speech from the balcony at the Dragon Inn—understood the general purport of it, but not the detail. Made him a sky-blue coat lined with pink silk, and two pair of canary-coloured shorts; also changed the green collar of a scarlet coat into a blue one—understood the green collar was the costume of some other hunt. Often saw him going out with the hounds, but never accompanied him—has no curiosity that way. Might have forty or fifty dogs with him at a time, of different colours— prevailing colour, he thinks, was drab—there might be some buff ones among them.

Cross-examined.—Had a quarrel with Mr. Jorrocks after he made the clothes; not because Mr. Jorrocks considered them ill-made, but because he insisted on witness going out to hunt. Cannot ride. Was paid for the clothes, less the discount. Did not consider Mr. Jorrocks insane because he paid for them. Never said he was cracked or insane. Made sky-blue coats and canary-coloured shorts for many other gentlemen. Perhaps thirty or thirty-five others. Some paid, some didn’t—lived in hope. Some of the hounds might be blue. Thinks there were no green ones among them, but is not sure.

Re-examined.—Might have said Mr. Jorrocks was flighty. Meant that he rode fast; not that he was mad.

Miss Sniffle, a maiden lady, was next sworn.—Lives at Handley Cross, and has done so for the last twelve-month, for the benefit of the waters. Keeps a pony chaise and a boy to drive it. Boy wears a gold band, and a red stripe down his trousers; many buttons like peppermint-drops. Remembers the 13th of December; was coming along the Appledove Road, and met an immense-procession; many men in scarlet, some in black, but most in scarlet; was dreadfully alarmed. There might be an hundred horsemen; never saw such a sight in her life. Mr. Jorrocks rode second in the procession. A man in a black velvet cap and a scarlet coat rode a little in advance of him. Mr. Jorrocks wore a broad-brimmed hat. Did not see the hounds; might have been there without her observing them.

Cross-examined.—Was staying at Handley Cross for the benefit of the waters, she said, not for the benefit of a husband; does not want one. Is on her oath, and swears she was dreadfully alarmed. Was alarmed at the whole thing, not at Mr. Jorrocks’s winking at her as she passed. Did wink at her certainly. Swears she did not drive in that direction to meet the hounds. Could have turned back when she saw them coming, but her presence of mind forsook her. Would not say whether she had ever been forsaken before or not. Never said Mr. Jorrocks was mad. Came there to state her alarm. Would be alarmed at a herd of cattle. Open to alarm generally.

Re-examined.—Had heard Mr. Jorrocks was deranged. Thinks her maid told her first. Believes Miss Dumpling’s maid told her maid, or Miss Freezer’s maid told Miss Dumpling’s maid, who told her maid. Might have said she thought his attics badly furnished. Meant it in the literal sense if she did say so.

Peter Savoy, a market-gardener and greengrocer, sworn and examined.—Lives at Mountjoy, five miles from Handley Cross, where he occupies garden ground and a field or two. Remembers the 24th of December. Mr. Jorrocks’s hounds met at the toll-bar on the Cadby road. Witness was working among his winter cabbages, when his attention was attracted to the cry of dogs, which grew louder and louder; presently three or four entered the garden at the east end, near where there is a watering-place for cattle, and almost at the same moment a loud crash among the glass at the other end attracted his notice, and he saw a man in a black cap and scarlet coat, and a brown horse, over head in a melon-frame. Ran to take the man for the trespass, and seized him by the collar, when the man struck him a violent blow in the face and made his nose bleed. Mr. Jorrocks, who had come up in the meantime, stood erect in his stirrups, looking over the fence just by the melon-frame, encouraging the man, and blowing a horn to drown his cries for assistance. Has no doubt whatever he would have been killed but for the timely arrival of help.

Cross-examined.—The man was not on the horse when he saw them in the melon-frame. Would appear to have thrown a somerset, and parted company in flying over the fence. Will swear it was a man and not a boy. The blow was heavy and stunned him. Mr. Jorrocks appeared to be encouraging him, crying, “Have at him, my beauty! have at him, my darling!” and blowing his horn. Never told Tom Straw, the ostler at the “Dragon,” that Mr. Jorrocks kept crying, “Go it, Binjamin! Go it, Binjamin!” Was not present at the meet of the hounds in the morning. Never was at one. Had never either hunted or gambled in his life. The melon-frame was much injured. Had not been paid the damage in full. The account was disputed. If it had been discharged, does not know that he might not have been there. Will not swear that he was in fear of his life. Had had many conversations with Mr. Jorrocks on the subject of the melon-frame, but never could obtain any final satisfaction. Does not know what the hounds were after, or that a fox had passed through his garden. One of the objections Mr. Jorrocks made to pay the price he set upon his melon-frame was, that the witness had lost them the fox by stopping his man. Should say Mr. Jorrocks was not “all there,” though he would not go so far as to say he was mad.

James Greenwood.—Is one of the keepers of the Regent’s Park. Lives at the Park Crescent Lodge, and the inner circle is within the bounds of his jurisdiction. Knows Mr. Jorrocks well, and has been acquainted with him for many years—perhaps ten or a dozen. Mr. Jorrocks has been in the habit of riding in the inner circle all that time, almost every morning throughout the summer season. Generally comes in about seven o’clock, getting on a little later as the autumn advances. Canters round and round, perhaps eight or ten times, and then walks his ’oss away. Witness has often conversed with him, generally before he began cantering, or after he was done. The canter might have been a gallop. Does not know the difference. Had never received any complaints against Mr. Jorrocks for furious riding. Once had a complaint against him for winking at a nursery-governess. Believes he winks at the nursery-maids; but witness does not consider it any business of his. Their conversation is generally about dogs and ’osses. Understands he has a great collection of dogs somewhere. Once offered witness a mount to go out with the Surrey; but witness cannot ride. Considers Mr. Jorrocks a very agreeable gentleman. Remembers him once riding his ’oss into the ring with a blanket under the saddle. Told witness the ’oss had the tie-douloureux. The blanket was folded when he entered the ring, but Mr. Jorrocks let it down about the ’oss’s sides before he began to canter. Remembers the morning of the 2nd of October. There had been a sharp frost during the night, and the leaves of many of the shrubs had changed colour in consequence. It was a fine bright morning, and Mr. Jorrocks overtook him on the bridge by the Archery ground, as witness was on his way to the inner circle. They began talking about the frost. Mr. J. thought it had not been so severe as witness represented. Witness showed him a cherry-tree, the leaves of which were quite red, also a purple beech that had turned copper colour. Mr. Jorrocks seemed much pleased, and as they entered the circle he exclaimed, as he looked over the nursery-ground palings, “Hurrah! blister my kidneys, it is a frost! the dahlias are dead!” Did not continue his ride, but after a pause of a few seconds gave witness half-a-crown, and cantered away. Had not seen him again until he met him on the stairs of this court.

Cross-examined.—Many gentlemen canter their ’osses round and round the Regent’s Park, but not many round the inner circle. Never thought there was anything odd in Mr. Jorrocks doing so. When witness told Mr. Jorrocks the nursery-governess had complained of his winking at her, he said he did it to clear the circle of her, for she was so hugly she frightened his ’oss. The nursery-maids are all fond of Mr. Jorrocks,— he generally carries barley-sugar in his pockets for the children. Does not know whether it is in the shape of kisses or not. Many old gentlemen wink at the maids —some pinch them in passing. Does not know that pinching is altogether right, but should not interfere without a complaint. Witness thinks it was a reddish-coloured ’oss that Mr. Jorrocks said had the tie-douloureux. Grooms are not allowed to exercise ’osses in clothing in the Regent’s Park. Thinks it probable an ’oss would sweat sooner with a blanket about it than without one. Does not know the object of sweating an ’oss. Mr. Jorrocks never talked to witness about dahlias,—has heard him inquire after the potato-tops,— asked whether they were black or not. Seemed always very anxious for winter—has heard him say, if he had his own way, be would strike summer out of the almanack. Once proposed to witness that they should publish an almanack between them, and omit summer altogether,—said, in a general way, summer was merely inserted as a sort of compliment,—three ’ot days and a thunderstorm being the general amount of an English summer. Never considered Mr. Jorrocks mad—mad gentlemen generally walk in cloaks,—some ride, and have their keepers on ’ose-back in livery after them,— those are of the richer class. Does not suppose every gentleman he sees with a groom insane, but considers it suspicious. Sets every man be sees in the Regent’s Park in a cloak, down for mad, and no mistake. Sees a good many mad gentlemen in the course of the year— they chiefly live in the Alpha Cottages on the west side of the Park. Considers Mr. Jorrocks quite the reverse of insane.

John Strong.—Is constable, and one of the churchwardens of the parish of St. James, Handley Cross. Remembers the 3rd of October,—. Michael Brown, one of the churchwardens, called upon him, and told him that Mr. Jorrocks of London was down, and employing carts to collect all the dead horses, and that they were leading them to Grant’s paddock, just at the back of the Methodist chapel. Went together to inspect the premises—found carts coming in from all quarters with dead horses, and three or four men skinning them. Mr. Jorrocks was not present. Witness returned to his house, and after a consultation with the other churchwardens, wrote Mr. J. the following note:—

“The churchwardens of the parish of St. James, Handley Cross, present their respectful compliments to Mr. Jorrocks, and having heard that you have bought all the dead horses in Handley Cross, desire to be informed what purpose you intend putting them to.

“To J. Jorrocks, Esq.”

Sent the beadle in his gold-laced coat, cocked hat, and staff, with it. He found Mr. Jorrocks in the paddock, superintending the stacking of the carcases, which were placed one upon another like a stack. Mr. Jorrocks having read the note, took a pencil out of his pocket book, and wrote at the bottom:—

and re-directed the note to the churchwardens. Witness and the other churchwardens made a second visit of inspection about three o’clock, and finding the stack was getting very high, wrote a second note, headed:—

“Victoria Rex.

“The churchwardens and overseer of the parish of St. James, Handley Cross, hereby require you to desist and abate the nuisance you are now creating in Grant’s paddock, by stacking sundry dead horses, or he will proceed against you according to the form of the statute in that case made and provided, and against the peace of our Sovereign Lady the Queen, her crown and dignity.

“To Mr. J. Jorrocks.”

Witness sent this note per beadle, in state, as before, who found the stack nearly finished, and a man and a boy dressing off the top with horses’ heads. Mr. J. took the note as before, and wrote at the bottom:—

“You be—

saying, as he handed it back, “Peace of our Sovereign Lady the Queen, indeed! Wictoria must have a werry good nose if she can wind this at Windsor.”

The special constables were then called out, and after a desperate conflict, succeeded in capturing Mr. Jorrocks, James Pigg, and Benjamin.

Cross-examined.—There had been a sharp frost at Handley Cross for two or three days before Mr. Jorrocks’s arrival,—seemed as if we were going to have an early winter. The mortality among the horses was very sudden, they all died within a short time of each other. Had an idea that Mr. Jorrocks was buying the horses up to feed his hounds upon. Don’t understand about hounds. Does not know how many hounds he keeps, or whether they could eat a horse for breakfast, another for dinner, and another for supper. Will not swear that Mr. Jorrocks bought the whole fifty-three horses that died—knows that there were a great many by the size of the stack. It was in the usual form of corn-stack, and the slope on the top was formed of horses’ heads put lengthways, so that the rain might run off down their noses. Was very cleverly made. Had a novel appearance. Many people came to see it. Flesh may keep a month or six weeks, but witness does not know that it will. Supposing the hounds to consume three horses a day, and the flesh to keep for a month, does not know that Mr. Jorrocks’s act was otherwise than prudent.

Sebastian Mello, whose name had been called, and bellowed, and vociferated upstairs and down, and along the passages after the examination of each witness, having announced his arrival by sending his card upstairs by a powdered footman, vacated his brougham, and, proceeding upstairs, tendered himself for examination on behalf of the promoters of the inquiry. Sebastian was got up with uncommon care, and the most scrupulous nicety. His yellow silken locks flowed over his coat-collar, exhibiting the boldness of his forehead and the regularity of his features. He was dressed in studied black, with a snow-white cravat, whose tie entwined among the four lace frills of a curiously-wrought shirt-front. He wore lace ruffles at his wrists, and a massive diamond ring on his right-hand little finger, and a beautiful pearl one on his left, while the corner of a richly embroidered cambric handkerchief peeped from the breast-pocket of his coat.

Mutual salutations being exchanged between Mr. Moonface and Mr. Mello, the former began his examination with the following inquiry:—

“You are, I believe, Mr. Sebastian Mello, a physician in very extensive practice at Handley Cross Spa?”

“I am,” replied Mr. Mello, with a slight inclination of the head.

“And you have, I believe, resided there for a considerable length of time?” continued Mr. Moonface.

“I have,” answered Mr. Mello.

“In short, you are the principal resident, or head of the place, I believe?”

“I am,” said Mr. Mello.

“Now then, sir, would you have the kindness to tell the jury what you know respecting the unfortunate gentleman, Mr. Jorrocks, whose case we are met here to inquire into?”

“Excuse me, sir, if before I answer your inquiry I take the liberty of correcting your description of the person referred to. If the individual you allude to is John Jorrocks, whom I see sitting there,” looking at Mr. J. with great disdain, “I should say, a person conducting himself as he had done is unworthy the flattering appellation with which you have honoured him.’

“True.” observed Mr. Moonface; “but for the sake of brevity, perhaps you would condescend to waive that point, and inform us what you know about him.”

“Know about him!” replied Mr. Mello, with a toss of his flowing head and a curl of his lip; “I really know nothing about him, further than that he is a great nuisance. He came to Handley Cross the beginning of last winter, ever since when the place has been in a state of tumult, and the religious portion of the community sadly scandalized and terribly annoyed. For my own part I have suffered all sorts of indignities at his hands. Besides his ravenous hounds, he keeps a pugnacious peacock that kills all the poultry in the place.

“He took it into his head to stroll every day with his flock of dogs and servants into the open immediately below the front of my house, where he would stay for hours, surrounded by all the riff-raff and irreligious people of the place. Because I stated that my piety was outraged, he got a wild-beast show established there, and paid the band five shillings for every hour they played after nine o’clock at night. The anonymous letters I received were extraordinarily numerous, and full of the most insulting expressions: and when I refused to take them in, baskets and boxes began pouring in by the railway and coaches, containing dead cats, donkey haunches, broken dishes, and other rubbish. I never saw John Jorrocks out hunting, but I understand his general conduct is of the most extraordinary and extravagant description, and his proceedings subversive of morality and true religion—only to be palliated on the score of downright insanity. I consider him a mischievous maniac.”

“You’re a warmint!” growled Mr. Jorrocks, stuffing a ham sandwich into his mouth.

“Go it, Ned!” continued he in the same strain, as Mr. Moonface, having extracted as much as he wanted out of the doctor, sat down, in order to let his “learned friend” endeavour to counteract what he had said, by cross-examination.

“And so you are a physician in a great way of practice, are you?” drawled Mr. Coltman, through his nose, in a careless, colloquial sort of style, as if he meant to have a good deal of conversation with Mello before he was done.

“I am,” replied Sebastian Mello, with a slight tinge of red on his countenance.

“You are sure of that?” asked Mr. Coltman, carelessly turning over the pages of his brief, as if he were thinking of something else.

“I am,” replied Mr. Mello.

“You are!” rejoined Mr. Coltman, looking him full in the face. “Now, sir,” said he, very slowly, “do you mean to assert that? Do you mean to say you have ever taken a degree?”

“I mean to assert, sir, that I am a physician in full practice.”

“Will you, on your oath, sir, say that you are a regularly qualified and admitted physician? On your oath, sir, will you say it?”

Mr. Sebastian Mello was silent.

“Will you, sir, swear?” continued the inexorable Mr. Coltman, “that you have any diploma, save what your own assurance and the credulity of your patients has conferred upon you?”

Mr. Mello was silent.

Mr. Coltman, throwing out his hands, made a pantomimic appeal to the jury with his eyes, and then, with a wave of his head, motioned Mr. Mello to retire.

“Werry good,” growled Mr. Jorrocks, thrusting the last ham sandwich into his mouth.

This was the case of the promoters; and a waiter, with a napkin twisted round his thumb, having whispered something in the ear of the Chief Commissioner, the learned gentleman looked at his watch, and immediately adjourned the court.