Sporting Novels (_continued_).
"Handley Cross" is another of the sporting novels so admirably
illustrated by Leech. The hero of this book is a certain Mr. Jorrocks, a
retired "great city grocer of the old school." A fortune gained in the
grocery business enabled Mr. Jorrocks to retire into country life, where
the sports of the field awaited him. He became a mighty hunter, the
possessor of the finest horses and "the best pack of 'ounds in all the
world," who would make the foxes cry "Capevi!" He is M.F.H., and so
great an authority on sporting matters as to warrant his announcing
himself as a lecturer on the duties of all concerned in the truly
British sport of the chasing of the fox. Mr. Jorrocks's antecedents were
such as to preclude the possibility of the display of brilliant
oratorical powers. His mode of expression--including the absence of the
letter "h," where it should be used, and its presence where it should
not--was what might have been expected from the retired grocer whose
little figure adorns the illustration.
Leech's old friend, Mr. Adams, tells me that a man named Nicholls, Lady
Louise Clinton's coachman, was the model for Mr. Jorrocks. Leech never
went anywhere, not even to church, without his little sketch-book; and
on a special Sunday at Barkway Church, where Lady Clinton had her pew,
she was followed by a little man who, after handing her ladyship her
books of devotion, took his seat outside the pew, and became an
unconscious study for Leech; who in a few minutes transferred an exact
likeness to the sketch-book, which was afterwards as exactly reproduced
in the "hunting lecture."
A curious reader can study Mr. Jorrocks's lecture in the pages of
"Handley Cross." He will there wonder with me how it came about, that so
distinguished an audience of aristocratic men, and lovely women, could
listen for many minutes to an oration which must have lasted at least
two hours, and which ends with the following peroration: "So shall
little Spooney jog on rejoicin'! Each succeedin' year shall find him
better mounted, and at each fresh deal he will become a wiser and I
'opes a nappier man."
Mr. Jorrocks concluded amidst loud and universal applause.
Leech's mastery of character--unexaggerated, true to nature, without a
trace of caricature--can be seen in the foreground figures of this
etching. The man standing behind the lady with the lovely profile is a
gentleman, though perhaps not a wise one; but what can the beautiful
profile find in Mr. Jorrocks's discourse to amuse or enlighten her? And
those pretty creatures in the distance, who certainly seem a little
bored, how is it that they did not slip away with their cavaliers behind
them, and so leave Mr. Jorrocks to talk about 'unting to 'is 'eart's
content?
One of Mr. Jorrocks's sporting friends is Mr. Charley Stobbs, a
good-looking young gentleman who finds himself belated after a hard
day's hunting. He wanders about an unknown country, darkness comes upon
him, and he endeavours in vain to find his way to Handley Cross. "The
night was drear and dark, the wind whistled and howled with uncommon
keenness, the cutting hail drifted with the sharpness of needles against
his face. Horse and rider were equally dispirited," says the
chronicler. This free and easy, or, rather uneasy, fox-hunter,
determined to seek shelter for the night at the first house he came to,
that promised from its appearance a comfortable bed, with, perhaps, an
introductory supper. He soon found himself "under the lee of a large
house, and having dismounted, and broken his shins against a scraper, he
at length discovered a bell-pull in the door-post, which having sounded,
the echoing notes from afar proclaimed the size and importance of the
mansion." "A little maiden" gave Charley admission, and, with surprising
alacrity, provided him with "ham sandwiches, hot water, lemon, nutmeg,"
etc., to say nothing of a bottle of sherry!
To the common mind the ease with which Mr. Charles Stobbs managed to
procure for himself a supper and lodging in a stranger's mansion will be
a matter of surprise; in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred he would
have met with a very different reception. We rejoice in his success,
because it gives us a likeness of his good-looking self, in conjunction
with that of one of the prettiest and daintiest waiting-maids ever
created by Leech's pencil.
Had I been permitted I should have selected a drawing from "Handley
Cross," which heads a chapter called "The Waning Season," not from its
subject (which has little interest), but because it is an admirable
example of Leech's mastery of landscape. The figure of the old hedger,
with his big gauntlets and bill-hook, is as true as possible to nature,
well drawn, and perfect in action, as he stoops over the faggots he has
collected; but I would call more attention to the drawing of the
foreground and distance of the landscape; the stunted tree and the
wattled fence in its perspective cunningly going off almost to the
horizon--thus leading the eye into space--with its lines so skilfully
broken by the leafless trees. The sky, too, though represented by a few
lines, composes artistically with the forms in the distance and the rest
of the wintry landscape.
With "Ask Mamma"--another of the many sporting books illustrated by
Leech--I shall close my selections from that kind of literature for the
present.
In the frontispiece of the book, which represents "The Ancestors of our
Hero," the female ancestor is such a bewitching creature as to make a
reproduction of her in this place irresistible. This charming person is
Mrs. William Pringle, _née_ Willing, about whose birth, parentage, and
education history is silent. Her acquaintance is first made by the
reader of "Ask Mamma" in the position of assistant in a milliner's shop,
which she soon left for a shop of her own. In this venture Miss Willing
failed disastrously, and, leaving dressmaking, she became a lady's-maid
in the service of "the beautiful, newly-married Countess Delacey." "It
was to the service of the Countess Delacey," says our author, "that Miss
Willing was indebted for becoming the wife of Mr. William Pringle." The
acquaintance between Miss Willing and Mr. Pringle, which soon ripened
into love and marriage, began on the stage-coach, in which Miss Willing
was journeying to London to buy dresses for her mistress, the Countess.
Alas! it must be confessed that Miss Willing was an unscrupulous
adventuress, and Mr. Pringle a very green goose indeed; for when he
found Miss Willing installed in the Countess's house in Grosvenor
Square, dressed in her mistress's emerald-green velvet costume, he
believed her to be, as she represented herself, the mistress of the
mansion. A big footman played into Miss Willing's hand, and "my lady'd"
her to her heart's content, and to the delight of Mr. Pringle, as the
refreshments were supplied to which the victim had been invited. Under
the inspiring influence of brandy-and-water Mr. Pringle's love grew
apace; and in reply to the lady's prudent inquiries as to his means of
keeping her surrounded by the luxury to which she had been accustomed,
she was assured that "she should have everything she wanted: a tall
footman with good legs, an Arab horse, an Erard harp, a royal
pianoforte, a silver tea-urn, a gold coffee pot, a service of gold, _eat
gold_ if she liked;" and, as he made this declaration, "he dropped upon
his salmon-coloured knees, and with his glass of brandy in one hand and
hers in the other, looked imploring up at her--a beautiful specimen of
heavy sentimentality."
As one looks at the comical figure of Mr. Pringle, it would be difficult
to believe that, even with the golden advantages with which he surrounds
himself, he could be rendered acceptable to the lovely creature of
Leech's fancy; if a finger could not be put upon couples amongst our own
acquaintances even more strangely contrasted.
With respect to personal appearance, Mr. Pringle fares better at Leech's
hands in a drawing representing a halt in the stage-coach journey to
London. The passengers have stopped for refreshment. The coachman
attends for his fee. Mr. Pringle, "who was bent upon doing the
magnificent, produced a large green-and-gold tasselled purse, almost as
big as a stocking, and drew therefrom a great five-shilling piece, which
he handed ostentatiously to the man, saying: 'For this lady and me,'
just as if she belonged to him."
Here Mr. Pringle fairly resembles a good-looking buck of sixty years
ago, and the coachman might have been one of those whom I remember on my
own first journey to London, with his "Beg pardon, sir, I've drove you
fifty miles," when his fee was less than he expected. The coat of many
capes, the red cheeks and redder nose, the action of the man as he holds
his hat and whip, are all true to life; here again without the least
exaggeration. In composition, light and shade, and general effect, this
drawing leaves nothing to wish for. The expression of Miss Willing, as
she looks sideways at her victim, should be noted.
Mr. William Pringle did not long enjoy his married life, for his only
son (the hero of "Ask Mamma") was but a child, when, "after an
inordinate kidney supper, Mr. Pringle was found dead in his chair."
The widow was very rich, and after educating her son regardless of
expense, she launched him into high life, and somehow or other brought
about an acquaintance between "Billy" and a sporting nobleman, the Earl
of Ladythorne. From that time "Ask Mamma" becomes a chronicle of
sporting adventure, with which I shall not trouble my reader, beyond the
explanation required for the understanding of one or two examples of
Leech's work.
The noble Earl of Ladythorne seems to have been a very impressionable
personage, in a constant state of suffering from "Cupid's shafts"; and
though for some reason or other he objected to hunting ladies, an
"equestrian coquette, Miss De Glancey, of half the watering-places in
England, and some on the Continent," had but to show herself amongst the
field and the noble lord was again transfixed; this time the dart seems
to have gone through and through the tender heart, only to be released
by an event which occurred shortly afterwards.
It appears that Miss De Glancey's love of hunting was affected, in order
to further her designs upon the Earl; she really feared and hated it;
and though on the fatal day, which was destined to extinguish her hope
of becoming a Countess, she had ridden boldly by the Earl through what
he calls "a monstrous fine run," she "found no fun in it at all," and
was "monstrous glad when it was over." No sooner was the fox
despatched, than the sky darkened, the lightning flashed, the thunder
bellowed, and the rain came down in torrents. "Poor Miss De Glancey,"
says our author, "was ready to sink into the earth." There was nothing
for it but to seek the nearest shelter, which seems to have been the
Punch Bowl at Rockbeer, in search of which "my lord" and the coquette
ride off together. "An opportune flash of lightning so lit up the
landscape as to show the clump of large elms at the entrance to
Rockbeer." The hard driving rain beats downways and sideways, frontways
and backways--all ways at once. The horses know not which way to duck to
evade the storm. In less than a minute Miss De Glancey is as drenched as
if she had taken a shower-bath. "The smart hat and feather are
annihilated; the dubious frizette falls out; down comes the hair; the
_bella-donna_-inspired radiance of her eyes is quenched; the crinoline
and wadding dissolve like ice before the fire; and ere _the love-cured
Earl_ lifts her off her horse at the Punch Bowl at Rockbeer, she has no
more shape or figure than an icicle. Indeed, she much resembles one, for
the cold sleet, freezing as it fell, has encrusted her in a rich coat of
iced lace, causing her saturated garments to cling to her with the
utmost pertinacity. A more complete wreck of a belle was perhaps never
seen."
"Brief as woman's love," says Shakspeare. That this remark will
sometimes apply to man's love cannot be contested, for have we not an
example before us in the rapid way in which our noble friend's passion
was, so to speak, washed out of him? The love-stricken Earl "cured" by a
shower of rain! We ought to be thankful for the downpour, for it was the
cause of Leech's drawing, in which the unfortunate coquette is still,
under the artist's tender treatment, an elegant creature, with grace and
beauty in every line of her bedraggled form. How admirable, too, is the
Earl! the rain dripping from the brim of his hat, and with every
opportunity for making him ridiculous, he is still dignified, his face
and figure noble, as he bends forward to meet the storm. It goes without
saying that the horses are admirable in character and action, and that
the whole scene exactly realizes a wet and stormy night.