Chapter 12

_The Library._

_SIR SIMON ROCHDALE and his STEWARD, who appears to be quitting the Room. JOB THORNBERRY standing at a little Distance from them._

_Sir Simon._ Remember the money must be ready to-morrow, Mr. Pennyman.

_Steward._ It shall, Sir Simon. [_Going._

_Sir Simon._ [_To JOB._] So, friend, your business, you say, is--and, Mr. Pennyman, [_STEWARD turns back._] give Robin Ruddy notice to quit his cottage, directly.

_Steward._ I am afraid, Sir Simon, if he's turned out, it will be his ruin.

_Sir Simon._ He should have recollected that, before he ruin'd his neighbour's daughter.

_Job._ [_Starting._] Eh!

_Sir Simon._ What's the matter with the man? His offence is attended with great aggravation.--Why doesn't he marry her?

_Job._ Aye! [_Emphatically._

_Sir Simon._ Pray, friend, be quiet.

_Steward._ He says it would make her more unfortunate still; he's too necessitous to provide even for the living consequence of his indiscretion.

_Sir Simon._ That doubles his crime to the girl.--He must quit. I'm a magistrate, you know, Mr. Pennyman, and 'tis my duty to discourage all such immorality.

_Steward._ Your orders must be obeyed, Sir Simon. [_Exit STEWARD._

_Sir Simon._ Now, yours is justice-business, you say. You come at an irregular time, and I have somebody else waiting for me; so be quick. What brings you here?

_Job._ My daughter's seduction, Sir Simon;--and it has done my heart good to hear your worship say, 'tis your duty to discourage all such immorality.

_Sir Simon._ To be sure it is;--but men, like you, shou'dn't be too apt to lay hold of every sentiment justice drops, lest you misapply it. 'Tis like an officious footman snatching up his mistress's periwig, and clapping it on again, hind part before. What are you?

_Job._ A tradesman, Sir Simon. I have been a freeholder, in this district, for many a year.

_Sir Simon._ A freeholder!--Zounds! one of Frank's voters, perhaps, and of consequence at his election. [_Aside._] Won't you, my good friend, take a chair?

_Job._ Thank you, Sir Simon, I know my proper place. I didn't come here to sit down with Sir Simon Rochdale, because I am a freeholder; I come to demand my right, because you are a justice.

_Sir Simon._ A man of respectability, a tradesman, and a freeholder, in such a serious case as yours, had better have recourse to a court of law.

_Job._ I am not rich, now, Sir Simon, whatever I may have been.

_Sir Simon._ A magistrate, honest, friend, can't give you damages:--you must fee counsel.

_Job._ I can't afford an expensive lawsuit, Sir Simon:--and, begging your pardon, I think the law never intended that an injured man, in middling circumstances, should either go without redress, or starve himself to obtain it.

_Sir Simon._ Whatever advice I can give you, you shall have it for nothing; but I can't jump over justice's hedges and ditches. Courts of law are broad high roads, made for national convenience; if your way lie through them, 'tis but fair you should pay the turnpikes. Who is the offender?

_Job._ He lives on your estate, Sir Simon.

_Sir Simon._ Oho! a tenant!--Then I may carry you through your journey by a short cut. Let him marry your daughter, my honest friend.

_Job._ He won't.

_Sir Simon._ Why not?

_Job._ He's going to marry another.

_Sir Simon._ Then he turns out. The rascal sha'n't disgrace my estate four and twenty hours longer.--Injure a reputable tradesman, my neighbour!----a freeholder!--and refuse to----did you say he was poor?

_Job._ No, Sir Simon; and, by and by, if you don't stand in his way, he may be very rich.

_Sir Simon._ Rich! eh!--Why, zounds! is he a gentleman?

_Job._ I have answer'd that question already, Sir Simon.

_Sir Simon._ Not that I remember.

_Job._ I thought I had been telling you his behaviour.

_Sir Simon._ Umph!

_Job._ I reckon many of my neighbours honest men, though I can't call them gentlemen;--but I reckon no man a gentleman, that I can't call honest.

_Sir Simon._ Harkye, neighbour;--if he's a gentleman (and I have several giddy young tenants, with more money than thought), let him give you a good round sum, and there's an end.

_Job._ A good round sum!--Damn me, I shall choke! [_Aside._] A ruffian, with a crape, puts a pistol to my breast, and robs me of forty shillings;--a scoundrel, with a smiling face, creeps to my fireside, and robs my daughter of her innocence. The judge can't allow restitution to spare the highwayman;--then, pray, Sir Simon,--I wish to speak humbly--pray don't insult the father, by calling money a reparation from the seducer.

_Sir Simon._ This fellow must be dealt with quietly I see--Justice, my honest friend, is----justice.--As a magistrate, I make no distinction of persons.--Seduction is a heinous offence: and, whatever is in my power, I----

_Job._ The offender is in your power, Sir Simon.

_Sir Simon._ Well, well; don't be hasty, and I'll take cognizance of him.--We must do things in form:--but you mustn't be passionate. [_Goes to the Table, and takes up a Pen._] Come, give me his christian and surname, and I'll see what's to be done for you.--Now, what name must I write?

_Job._ Francis Rochdale.

_Sir Simon._ [_Drops the Pen, looks at JOB, and starts up._] Damn me! if it isn't the brazier!

_Job._ Justice is justice, Sir Simon. I am a respectable tradesman, your neighbour, and a freeholder.--Seduction is a heinous offence; a magistrate knows no distinction of persons; and a rascal musn't disgrace your estate four and twenty hours longer.

_Sir Simon._ [_Sheepishly._] I believe your name is Thornberry?

_Job._ It is, Sir Simon. I never blush'd at my name, till your son made me blush for yours.

_Sir Simon._ Mr. Thornberry--I--I heard something of my son's--a--little indiscretion, some mornings ago.

_Job._ Did you, Sir Simon? you never sent to me about it; so, I suppose, the news reach'd you at one of the hours you don't set apart for justice.

_Sir Simon._ This is a----a very awkward business, Mr. Thornberry. Something like a hump back;--we can never set it quite straight, so we must bolster it.

_Job._ How do you mean, Sir Simon?

_Sir Simon._ Why--'tis a--a disagreeable affair, and--we--must hush it up.

_Job._ Hush it up! a justice compound with a father, to wink at his child's injuries! if you and I hush it up so, Sir Simon, how shall we hush it up here? [_Striking his Breast._] In one word, will your son marry my daughter?

_Sir Simon._ What! my son marry the daughter of a brazier!

_Job._ He has ruined the daughter of a brazier.--If the best lord in the land degrades himself by a crime, you can't call his atonement for it a condescension.

_Sir Simon._ Honest friend--I don't know in what quantities you may sell brass at your shop; but when you come abroad, and ask a baronet to marry his son to your daughter, damn me, if you ar'n't a wholesale dealer!

_Job._ And I can't tell, Sir Simon, how you may please to retail justice; but when a customer comes to deal largely with you, damn me if you don't shut up the shop windows!

_Sir Simon._ You are growing saucy. Leave the room, or I shall commit you.

_Job._ Commit me! you will please to observe, Sir Simon, I remember'd my duty, till you forgot yours. You asked me, at first, to sit down in your presence. I knew better than to do so, before a baronet and a justice of peace. But I lose my respect for my superior in rank, when he's so much below my equals in fair dealing:--and, since the magistrate has left the chair [_Slams the Chair into the middle of the Room._] I'll sit down on it. [_Sits down._] There!--'Tis fit it should be fill'd by somebody--and, dam'me if I leave the house till you redress my daughter, or I shame you all over the county!

_Sir Simon._ Why, you impudent mechanic! I shou'dn't wonder if the scoundrel call'd for my clerk, and sign'd my mittimus. [_Rings the Bell._] Fellow, get out of that chair.

_Job._ I sha'n't stir. If you want to sit down, take another. This is the chair of justice: it's the most uneasy for you of any in the room.

_Enter SERVANT._

_Sir Simon._ Tell Mr. Rochdale to come to me directly.

_Serv._ Yes, Sir Simon. [_Sees JOB._] Hee! hee!

_Sir Simon._ Don't stand grinning, you booby! but go.

_Serv._ Yes, Sir Simon. Hee! he! [_Exit._

_Job._ [_Reaching a Book from the Table._] "Burn's Justice!"

_Sir Simon._ And how dare you take it up?

_Job._ Because you have laid it down. Read it a little better, and, then, I may respect you more.--There it is. [_Throws it on the Floor._

_Enter FRANK ROCHDALE._

_Sir Simon._ So, sir! prettily I am insulted on your account!

_Frank._ Good Heaven, sir! what is the matter?

_Sir Simon._ The matter! [_Points to JOB._] Lug that old bundle of brass out of my chair, directly. [_FRANK casts his Eyes on THORNBERRY, then on the Ground, and stands abashed._

_Job._ He dare as soon jump into one of your tin-mines. Brass!--there is no baser metal than hypocrisy: he came with that false coin to my shop, and it pass'd; but see how conscience nails him to the spot, now!

_Frank._ [_To SIR SIMON._] Sir, I came to explain all.

_Sir Simon._ Sir, you must be aware that all is explained already. You provoke a brazier almost to knock me down; and bring me news of it, when he is fix'd as tight in my study, as a copper in my kitchen.

_Frank._ [_Advancing to JOB._] Mr. Thornberry, I----

_Job._ Keep your distance! I'm an old fellow; but if my daughter's seducer comes near me, I'll beat him as flat as a stewpan.

_Frank._ [_Still advancing._] Suffer me to speak, and--

_Job._ [_Rising from the Chair, and holding up his Cane._] Come an inch nearer, and I'll be as good as my word.

_Enter PEREGRINE._

_Pereg._ Hold!

_Job._ Eh! you here? then I have some chance, perhaps, of getting righted, at last.

_Pereg._ Do not permit passion to weaken that chance.

_Job._ Oh, plague! you don't know;--I wasn't violent till----

_Pereg._ Nay, nay; cease to grasp that cane.--While we are so conspicuously bless'd with laws to chastise a culprit, the mace of justice is the only proper weapon for the injured.--Let me talk with you. [_Takes THORNBERRY aside._

_Sir Simon._ [_To FRANK ROCHDALE._] Well, sir; who may this last person be, whom you have thought proper should visit me?

_Frank._ A stranger in this country, sir, and----

_Sir Simon._ And a friend, I perceive, of that old ruffian.

_Frank._ I have reason to think, sir, he is a friend to Mr. Thornberry.

_Sir Simon._ Sir, I am very much obliged to you.--You send a brazier to challenge me, and now, I suppose, you have brought a travelling tinker for his second. Where does he come from?

_Frank._ India, sir. He leap'd from the vessel that was foundering on the rocks, this morning, and swam to shore.

_Sir Simon._ Did he? I wish he had taken the jump with the brazier tied to his neck. [_PEREGRINE and JOB come forward._

_Pereg._ [_Apart to JOB._] I can discuss it better in your absence. Be near with Mary: should the issue be favourable, I will call you.

_Job._ [_Apart to PEREG._] Well, well! I will. You have a better head at it than I.----Justice! Oh, if I was Lord Chancellor, I'd knock all the family down with the mace, in a minute. [_Exit._

_Pereg._ Suffer me to say a few words, Sir Simon Rochdale, in behalf of that unhappy man. [_Pointing to where JOB was gone out._

_Sir Simon._ And pray, sir, what privilege have you to interfere in my domestic concerns?

_Pereg._ None, as it appears abstractedly. Old Thornberry has just deputed me to accommodate his domestic concerns with you: I would, willingly, not touch upon yours.

_Sir Simon._ Poh! poh! You can't touch upon one, Without being impertinent about the other.

_Pereg._ Have the candour to suppose, Sir Simon, that I mean no disrespect to your house. Although I may stickle, lustily, with you, in the cause of an aggrieved man, believe me, early habits have taught me to be anxious for the prosperity of the Rochdales.

_Sir Simon._ Early habits!

_Pereg._ I happened to be born on your estate, Sir Simon; and have obligations to some part of your family.

_Sir Simon._ Then, upon my soul, you have chosen a pretty way to repay them!

_Pereg._ I know no better way of repaying them, than by consulting your family honour. In my boyhood, it seem'd as if nature had dropp'd me a kind of infant subject on your father's Cornish territory; and the whole pedigree of your house is familiar to me.

_Sir Simon._ Is it? Confound him, he has heard of the miller! [_Aside._] Sir, you may talk this tolerably well; but 'tis my hope--my opinion, I mean, you can't tell who was my grandfather.

_Pereg._ Whisper the secret to yourself, Sir Simon; and let reason also whisper to you, that, when honest industry raises a family to opulence and honours, its very original lowness sheds lustre on its elevation;--but all its glory fades, when it has given a wound, and denies a balsam, to a man, as humble, and as honest, as your own ancestor.

_Sir Simon._ But I haven't given the wound.--And why, good sir, won't you be pleased to speak your sentiments! [_To FRANK, who has retired, during the above Conversation, to the Back of the Room._

_Frank._ The first are, obedience to my father, sir; and, if I must proceed, I own that nothing, in my mind, but the amplest atonement, can extinguish true remorse for a cruelty.

_Sir Simon._ Ha! in other words, you can't clap an extinguisher upon your feelings, without a father-in-law who can sell you one. But Lady Caroline Braymore is your wife, or I am no longer your father.

_Enter TOM SHUFFLETON and LADY CAROLINE BRAYMORE._

_Shuff._ How d'ye do, good folks? How d'ye do?

_Sir Simon._ Ha! Lady Caroline!--Tom, I have had a little business.--The last dinner-bell has rung, Lady Caroline; but I'll attend you directly.

_Shuff._ Baronet, I'm afraid we sha'n't be able to dine with you to-day.

_Sir Simon._ Not dine with me!

_Lady Car._ No;--we are just married!

_Sir Simon._ Hell and the devil! married!

_Shuff._ Yes; we are married, and can't come.

_Pereg._ [_Aside._] Then 'tis time to speak to old Thornberry. [_Exit._

_Sir Simon._ Lady Caroline!

_Lady Car._ I lost my appetite in your family this morning, Sir Simon; and have no relish for any thing you can have the goodness to offer me.

_Shuff._ Don't press us, baronet;--that's quite out, in the New School.

_Sir Simon._ Oh, damn the New School!--who will explain all this mystery?

_Frank._ Mr. Shuffleton shall explain it, sir; and other mysteries too.

_Shuff._ My dear Frank, I have something to say to you. But here comes my papa; I've been talking to him, Sir Simon, and he'll talk to you. He does very well to explain, for the benefit of a country gentleman.

_Enter LORD FITZ BALAAM._

_Sir Simon._ My Lord, it is painful to be referred to you, when so much is to be said. What is it all?

_Lord Fitz._ You are disappointed, Sir Simon, and I am ruin'd.

_Sir Simon._ But, my lord---- [_They go up the Stage._

[_LADY CAROLINE throws herself carelessly into a Chair. SHUFFLETON advances to FRANK._

_Shuff._ My dear Frank, I----I have had a devilish deal of trouble in getting this business off your hands. But you see, I have done my best for you.

_Frank._ For yourself, you mean.

_Shuff._ Come, damn it, my good fellow, don't be ungrateful to a friend.

_Frank._ Take back this letter of recommendation, you wrote for Mary, as a friend. When you assume that name with me, Mr. Shuffleton, for myself I laugh; for you I blush; but for sacred friendship's profanation I grieve. [_Turns from him._

_Shuff._ That all happens from living so much out of town.

_Enter PEREGRINE, JOB THORNBERRY, and MARY._

_Pereg._ Now, Sir Simon, as accident seems to have thwarted a design, which probity could never applaud, you may, perhaps, be inclined to do justice here.

_Job._ Justice is all I come for--damn their favours! Cheer up, Mary!

_Sir Simon._ [_To PEREG._] I was in hopes I had got rid of you. You are an orator from the sea-shore; but you must put more pebbles in your mouth before you harangue me into a tea-kettle connexion.

_Shuff._ That's my friend at the Red Cow. He is the new-old _cher ami_ to honest tea-kettle's daughter.

_Frank._ Your insinuation is false, sir.

_Shuff._ False! [_Stepping forward._

_Lady Car._ Hush! don't quarrel;--we are only married to-day.

_Shuff._ That's true; I won't do any thing to make you unhappy for these three weeks.

_Pereg._ Sir Simon Rochdale, if my oratory fail, and which, indeed, is weak, may interest prevail with you?

_Sir Simon._ No; rather than consent, I'd give up every acre of my estate.

_Pereg._ Your conduct proves you unworthy of your estate; and, unluckily for you, you have roused the indignation of an elder brother, who now stands before you, and claims it.

_Sir Simon._ Eh!--Zounds!--Peregrine!

_Pereg._ I can make my title too good, in an instant, for you to dispute it. My agent in London has long had documents on the secret he has kept; and several old inhabitants here, I know, are prepared to identify me.

_Sir Simon._ I had a run-away brother--a boy that every body thought dead. How came he not to claim till now?

_Pereg._ Because, knowing he had given deep cause of offence, he never would have asserted his abandon'd right, had he not found a brother neglecting, what no Englishman should neglect--justice and humanity to his inferiors.

_Enter DENNIS BRULGRUDDERY._

_Dennis._ Stand asy, all of you; for I've big news for my half-drown'd customer. Och! bless your mug! and is it there you are?

_Sir Simon._ What's the matter now?

_Dennis._ Hould your tongue, you little man!--There's a great post just come to your Manor-house, and the Indiaman's work'd into port.

_Job._ What, the vessel with all your property? [_To PEREG._

_Dennis._ By all that's amazing, they say you have a hundred thousand pounds in that ship.

_Pereg._ My losses might have been somewhat more without this recovery. I have entered into a sort of partnership with you, my friend, this morning. How can we dissolve it?

_Job._ You are an honest man; so am I; so settle that account as you like.

_Pereg._ Come forth, then, injured simplicity;--of your own cause you shall be now the arbitress.

_Mary._ Do not make me speak, sir, I am so humbled--so abash'd----

_Job._ Nonsense! we are sticking up for right.

_Pereg._ Will you then speak, Mr. Rochdale?

_Frank._ My father is bereft of a fortune, sir; but I must hesitate till his fiat is obtained, as much as if he possess'd it.

_Sir Simon._ Nay, nay; follow your own inclinations now

_Frank._ May I, sir? Oh, then, let the libertine now make reparation, and claim a wife. [_Running to MARY, and embracing her._

_Dennis._ His wife! Och! what a big dinner we'll have at the Red Cow!

_Pereg._ What am I to say, sir? [_To SIR SIMON._

_Sir Simon._ Oh! you are to say what you please.

_Pereg._ Then, bless you both! And, tho' I have passed so much of my life abroad, brother, English equity is dear to my heart. Respect the rights of honest John Bull, and our family concerns may be easily arranged.

_Job._ That's upright. I forgive you, young man, for what has passed; but no one deserves forgiveness, who refuses to make amends, when he has disturb'd the happiness of an Englishman's fireside.