Chapter X: Jean Rougier, or Jack Rogers

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WE need not say that Mrs. Pringle was overjoyed at the receipt of
the Earl’s letter. It was so kind and good, and so like him. He
always said he would do her a good turn if he could: but there
are so many fine-weather friends in this world that there is no
being certain of any one. Happy are they who never have occasion
to test the sincerity of their friends, say we.

Mrs. Pringle was now all bustle and excitement, preparing Billy
for the great event.

His wardrobe, always grand, underwent revision in the
undergarment line. She got him some magnificently embroidered
dress shirts, so fine that the fronts almost looked as if you
might blow them out, and regardful of the _rôle_ he was now about
to play, she added several dozen with horses, dogs, birds, and
foxes upon them, “suitable for fishing, shooting, boating, &c.,”
as the advertisements said. His cambric kerchiefs were of the
finest quality, while his stockings and other things were in
great abundance, the whole surmounted by a splendid
dressing-case, the like of which had ne’er been seen since the
days of Pea-Green Haine. Altogether he was capitally provided,
and quite in accordance with a lady’s-maid’s ideas of gentility.

Billy, on his part, was active and energetic too, for though he
had his doubts about being able to sit at the jumps, he had no
objection to wear a red coat; and mysterious-looking boys, with
blue bags, were constantly to be found seated on the mahogany
bench, in the Curtain Crescent passage, waiting to try on his top
boots; while the cheval glass up-stairs was constantly reflecting
his figure in scarlet, _à la_ Old Briggs. The concomitants of the
chase, leathers, cords, whips, spurs, came pouring in apace. The
next thing was to get somebody to take care of them.

It is observable that the heads of the various branches of an
establishment are all in favour of “master” spending all his
money on their particular department. Thus, the coachman would
have him run entirely to carriages, the groom to horses, the cook
to the _cuisine_, the butler to wines, the gardener to grapes,
&c., and so on.

Mrs. Pringle, we need hardly say, favoured lady’s-maids and
valets. It has been well said, that if a man wants to get
acquainted with a gentleman’s private affairs, he should either
go to the lawyer or else to the valet that’s courting the
lady’s-maid; and Mrs. Pringle was quite of that opinion.
Moreover, she held that no man with an efficient, properly
trained valet, need ever be catspawed or jilted, because the
lady’s-maid would feel it a point of honour to let the valet know
how the land lay, a compliment he would return under similar
circumstances. To provide Billy with this, as she considered,
most essential appendage to a gentleman, was her next
consideration—a valet that should know enough and not too
much—enough to enable him to blow his master’s trumpet properly,
and not too much, lest he should turn restive and play the wrong
tune.

At length she fixed upon the Anglo-Frenchman, whose name stands
at the head of this chapter—Jean Rougier, or Jack Rogers. Jack
was the son of old Jack Rogers, so well known as the enactor of
the Drunken Huzzar, and similar characters of Nutkins’s Circus;
and Jack was entered to his father’s profession, but disagreeing
with the clown, Tom Oliver, who used to give him sundry most
unqualified cuts and cuffs in the Circus, Jack, who was a
tremendously strong fellow, gave Oliver such a desperate beating
one night as caused his life to be despaired off. This took place
at Nottingham, from whence Jack fled for fear of the
consequences; and after sundry vicissitudes he was next
discovered as a post-boy, at Sittingbourne, an office that he was
well adapted for, being short and stout and extremely powerful.
No brute was ever too bad for Jack’s riding: he would tame them
before the day was over. Somehow he got bumped down to Dover,
when taking a fancy to go “foreign,” he sold his master’s horses
for what they would fetch; and this being just about the time
that the late Mr. Probert expiated a similar mistake at the Old
Bailey, Jack hearing of it, thought it was better to stay where
he was than give Mr. Calcraft any trouble. He therefore accepted
the situation of boots to the Albion Hotel, Boulogne-sur-mer; but
finding that he did not get on half so well as he would if he
were a Frenchman, he took to acquiring the language, which, with
getting his ears bored, letting his hair and whiskers grow, and
adopting the French costume in all its integrity, coupled with a
liberal attack of the small-pox, soon told a tale in favour of
his fees. After a long absence, he at length returned at the Bill
Smith Revolution; and vacillating for some time between a courier
and a valet, finally settled down to what we now find him.

We know not how it is, if valets are so essentially necessary,
that there should always be so many out of place, but certain it
is that an advertisment in a morning paper will always bring a
full crop to a door.

Perhaps, being the laziest of all lazy lives, any one can turn
his hand to valeting, who to dig is unable, and yet to want is
unwilling.

Mrs. Pringle knew better than hold a levee in Curtain Crescent,
letting all the applicants pump Properjohn or such of the maids
as they could get hold of; and having advertised for written
applications, stating full particulars of previous service, and
credentials, to be addressed to F. P. at Chisel the baker’s, in
Yeast Street, she selected some half-dozen of the most promising
ones, and appointed the parties to meet her, at different hours
of course, at the first-class waiting-room of the great Western
Station, intimating that they would know her by a bunch of red
geraniums she would hold in her hand. And the second applicant,
Jean Rougier, looked so like her money, having a sufficient
knowledge of the English language to be able to understand all
that was said, and yet at the same time sufficiently ignorant of
it to invite confidential communications to be made before him;
that after glancing over the testimonials bound up in his little
parchment-backed passport book, she got the name and address of
his then master, and sought an interview to obtain Monsieur’s
character. This gentleman, Sir Harry Bolter, happening to owe
Jack three-quarters of a year’s wages, which he was not likely to
pay, spoke of him in the highest possible terms, glossing over
his little partiality for drink by saying that, like all
Frenchmen, he was of a convivial turn; and in consequence of Sir
Harry’s and Jack’s own recommendations, Mrs. Pringle took him.

The reader will therefore now have the kindness to consider our
hero and his valet under way, with a perfect pyramid of luggage,
and Monsieur arrayed in the foraging cap, the little coatee, the
petticoat trowsers, and odds and ends money-bag of his long
adopted country, slung across his ample chest.

Their arrival and reception at Tantivy Castle will perhaps be
best described in the following letter from Billy to his mother:—

Tantivy Castle.

My dearest Mamma,

_I write a line to say that I arrived here quite safe by the 5-30
train, and found the Earl as polite as possible. I should tell
you that I made a mistake at starting, for it being dark when I
arrived, and getting confused with a whole regiment of footmen, I
mistook a fine gentleman who came forward to meet me for the
Earl, and made him a most respectful bow, which the ass returned,
and began to talk about the weather; and when the real Earl came
in I took him for a guest, and was going to weather him. However
he soon put all matters right, and introduced me to Mrs. Moffatt,
a very fine lady, who seems to rule the roast here in grand
style. They say she never wears the same dress twice._

_There are always at least half-a-dozen powdered footmen, in
cerulean blue lined with rose-coloured silk, and pink silk
stockings, the whole profusely illustrated with gold lace, gold
aigulets, and I don’t know what, lounging about in the halls and
passages, wailing for company which Rougier says never comes.
This worthy seems to have mastered the ins and outs of the place
already, and says, “my lor has an Englishman to cook his
beef-steak for breakfast, a Frenchman to cook his dinner, and an
Italian confectioner; every thing that a ‘my lord’ ought to have”
It is a splendid place,—as you will see by the above picture, *
more like Windsor than anything I ever saw, and there seems to be
no expense spared that could by any possibility be incurred. I’ve
got a beautiful bedroom with warm and cold baths and a
conservatory attached._

* Our friend was writing on Castle-paper, of course.

_To-morrow is the first day of the season, and all the world and
his wife will be there to a grand déjeuner à la Fourchette. The
hounds meet before the Castle. His lordship says he will put me
on a safe, steady hunter, and I hope he will, for I am not quite
sure that I can sit at the jumps. However I’ll let you know how I
come on. Meanwhile as the gong is sounding for dressing, believe
me, my dearest mamma,_

_Ever your truly affectionate son,_

Wm. PRINGLE.

Mrs. Pringle,

Curtain Crescent, Belgrade Square, London.