John Bull Part 24

_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 s.n.a.t.c.hing 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 circ.u.mstances, 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!--d.a.m.n me, I shall choke! [_Aside._] A ruffian, with a c.r.a.pe, 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 rest.i.tution 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 pa.s.sionate.

[_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._] d.a.m.n 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 quant.i.ties you may sell bra.s.s at your shop; but when you come abroad, and ask a baronet to marry his son to your daughter, d.a.m.n 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, d.a.m.n 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._