Chapter I.
Indications of Character — Small Beginnings.
Jonathan Moudiwort was born of very obscure and very
poor parents. If our information is correct, his father was a weaver;
and Jonathan himself was initiated, at a very early age, into all the
mysteries of threads, reeds, haidles, and treadles. But this is
anticipating; for it should first be told that the boy had a great deal
of natural talent even in his earliest years; and, when at school, or
rather before he was old enough to go there, that he frequently
contrived to buy up nearly the whole of the toys of which his
play-fellows were possessed. He would first give them something in
exchange for a top, or a knife, or whatever they might chance to have;
and then something else in exchange for that—always taking care to give
an article of less value at every successive bargain, until hs had
fairly bartered them out of their last farthing's worth in the most fair
and honourable way. When he found them particularly stubborn he
sometimes tried another expedient: upon these occasions it was his
custom first to try to get "a piece" from his mother: and, if he
succeeded, his next step was to engage his refractory companion upon
some long excursion a little before dinner-time. When he had brought
matters thus far, he scarcely ever failed of success, by pushing onward
as briskly as possible with the little commercialist, under pretence of
some great sight which they were to see, or some fine things which they
were to get, till he had got him to a considerable distance from home;
and then, when the afternoon was well advanced, and the poor boy had
begun to suffer from the extreme of hunger, with still a mile or two of
road between him and the prospect of any supply, he, in general, found
him willing to sell whatever he might have, as Esau did his
birthright—not, however, for "a mess of pottage," but for a portion of
peas, or barley bannock, as the case might be. We cannot
afford space to narrate more of Jonathan's boyish proceedings;
but the specimens already given, it must at once be acknowledged,
afforded sure indications of a wise, bargain-making, prospering man when
time should have matured his intellect: and Jonathan's riper years did
not belie the promise of his youth. He had tact and talent—an
enterprising disposition, and an abundance of ambition; and, with such
qualifications, who ever failed to get forward in the world?
As yet, however, he was surrounded by what the poets
have been pleased to call "the thick mists of poverty." By his
connection with threads, reeds, haidles, and treadles he could earn a
bare subsistence, and very little more; but then he knew that "money
makes money, as poor Richard said;" and if he could only save, or in any
other way get hold of a few pounds, or even a few shillings, these, in
the course of time, might make a few more; and thus he might get forward
on the road to fortune and respectability; for the two are always
to be found together. He had, moreover, an uncle, the worthy Mr. Mungo
Moudiwort, who, from having wriggled himself into a writer's office, as
an errand boy, when he was a lad, had actually risen to be factor and
law-agent for the estate of Lord Crippledonky. "Blood is thicker than
water," even at the thinnest: his lordship lived constantly in London; a
farm might fall vacant in the course of time; and Jonathan thought chat
he already saw through these same "mists of poverty."
Having saved a trifle by rising early and sitting up
late— at least he had by some means or other got his hands upon a few
pounds—his next proceeding was to take a grass park. It was a
very small one, inasmuch as the rent for the season was only £9: but,
small as it was, there were people who thought he would never be able to
stock it with cattle. Jonathan, however, thought more correctly,
and saw farther than they did : and, thereupon, he went to work in the
following highly commendable manner.
Duncan Toddleben, an old man, and his wife, an
equally old woman, who had made their living for some time past by
selling milk, had a cow to dispose of. The thing had become
indispensable, from the cow not being in calf, as the dealers
have it. Now this was the very kind of cow which Jonathan wanted. He
accordingly attended two markets to which the creature was successively
taken, and, by some judicious and well timed, as well as mysterious
hints about "the health of animals," and "biting not being the only
fault for which a cow was commonly brought to the market," he so
influenced the sagacious cow-merchants, alias, cow-coupers, that not one
of them would offer poor Duncan Toddleben a single penny for his cow.
The last of these unpropitious market-days was
drawing to a close, and Duncan had no prospect save that of returning
home with the "beast," for whose support he was in great want of fodder,
when Jonathan, who appeared to be passing the place where he stood by
accident, stopped for a little to condole with him upon his ill luck;
and then begged his company to the nearest ale-house, to get a
"single bottle of ale," as he phrased it, "for auld acquaintance' sake."
This invitation was accepted; and the "bottle of ale," was followed by
"a gill," which had a wonderful effect upon the old man's spirits.
Another gill was called in: who would wish to do otherwise than make an
old man happy? It was succeeded by a third, which made Duncan as
cheery as if he had sold his cow for twice her value; and, iu the
end, he actually did sell her to his friend Jonathan for three pounds
and half a crown, though, on the morning of the same day, he had
confidently anticipated getting nearly three times that amount. Nor was
this all; for it was stipulated that the half-crown should be
returned as a luck-penny?
By such bargains as the foregoing, Jonathan soon
succeeded in stocking his grass park to great advantage. The
season was a favourable one for the graziers, there being a proper
modicum of both warmth and moisture; and, when the animals were
well fattened, he sold them to the butchers with a goodly "percentage"
of profit upon the prices at which he had bought them. With this
percentage, it was an easy matter for him to "pay the rent, like a
gentleman," as the factor said, and even deposit some fifteen or
twenty pounds, in the Fiddlesticks' Bank.
"Maist things hae a sma' beginnin',"
says the poet: here was a beginning to Jonathan, and
he did not fail to profit by it. On the following year, he took a larger
grass park, for which he promised to pay £30; and, by attending
regularly and carefully at a number of markets, and making the most fair
and honourable bargains with all sorts of simpletons and old men, who
had cows or other cattle to sell, he again stocked it in a manner as
advantageous as he had done heretofore. "When the proper season arrived,
the butchers were once more fain to give him good prices for his "fat
cattle;" and at the end of the year, besides "paying the rent, like a
gentleman," as on the former occasion, he had between sixty and seventy
pounds to deposit with the money changers at Fiddlesticks. Thus did
Jonathan from year to year, increase in riches, even as he was
increasing in knowledge.
But, to proceed chronologically with his history : on
the year following that last noticed, the harvest was rather late;
in the course of it a good deal of rain had fallen, while the
weather was, at the same time, "warm and smoky," as the country people
called it; and much of the grain had begun to grow again before it could
be got into the barn-yard. During the earlier part of this period, a
considerable rise in the price of corn had been anticipated; but as the
weather had at last become dry, and it was supposed that the greater
part of the crop had been "secured in excellent order," speculation upon
the subject had in a great measure ceased. But Jonathan knew that when
grain has once been allowed to sprout, however well dried it may
afterwards be, it can never again be made to produce any thing like the
ordinary quantity of meal, and upon this circumstance he founded his
hopes. While the wet weather lasted, and even after the dry weather had
come, day after day he might have been seen wending his way through the
fields which had been lately reaped, thrusting his hands into the stooks,
and "rubbing out" small quantities of the grain, which he winnowed with
"the breath of his nostrils," or rather his mouth, and forthwith
proceeded to examine carefully. At last his resolution appeared to be
taken. As yet, from the farmers being busy in securing their
potato-crop, and sowing their wheat, but little of any kind of grain had
been thrashed or brought to the market, the deficiency of the season was
not much suspected, nor had any. rise of prices taken place; and
Jonathan invested the whole of his £60 in the purchase of
oats—selecting, as a matter of course, the heaviest and the best which
he could find, and always buying them "reasonably cheap."
By and by, prices began to rise a little, and exactly
in proportion as they rose, that degree of anxiety which, for some time
past, had been visibly depicted in Jonathan's countenance, gradually
disappeared. He now regretted that he had not more money to invest in
the purchase of corn, and, at last, he fairly thought of availing
himself of a little credit. Credit, he knew, was a desperately bad
thing; but he knew also, that the danger lay principally in giving,
not in taking it, and therefore his scruples were the less. It was
known to all that Jonathan was a hard-working, industrious man, who rose
early on every morning of the week, except Sunday; and, with a little
cajoling, Mr. Flapabout, the cloth merchant, in the village of Aberdouf,
consented to be his security with the Fiddlesticks' Bank for an
additional £50—the whole of which was also invested in the purchase of
corn as fast as possible.
This done, Jonathan's next operations were directed
to the two meal-mongers of Aberdouf: by dint of argument and logical
deduction, of both of which he was a great master, he succeeded in
persuading one of them, that the beggar-making business was incomparably
more profitable than meal-mongering. This individual, accordingly,
emptied his sacks with all convenient speed, and, instead of filling
them again as had been his wont, took up a beggar-maker's shop,
otherwise called a public-house. The other meal-monger, from
being rather a refractory character, did not come so readily into his
measures; but, by buying up a debt of £20, which he had been long owing
to a miller, and prosecuting for its recovery in the proper nick of
time, he ruined him, and thus got quit of him also. No man could lament
more deeply, or more sincerely, or more pathetically, for the
unfortunate meal-monger, than Jonathan did. "But then the poor miller!"
he said; "it was simply to save him from ruin, that he had advanced the
money, and bought up the debt; and one man was all the same as another."
As soon as the field was thus scientifically cleared
of all opposition, Jonathan commenced meal-monger himself in the village
of Aberdouf; and scarcely had he done so when the farmers, who
had now begun to thrash out a part of their crops, discovered that, in
winnowing, at least a fourth part of the grain went away with the chaff,
while that which remained was scarcely more than half the usual weight.
This, though it had remained partly unknown till now, was what Jonathan
had foreseen, as the legitimate consequence of its having begun to
vegetate before it was brought home; and, as a farther proof of
his far-seeing faculty, in a week or two after the real state of the
crop was generally understood, prices rose from eighty to one
hundred per cent. Great emergencies require great geniuses: Jonathan
Moudiwort was a great genius, and here he prospered, while evil
times appeared to have fallen upon many.
Having no "competition"—that everlasting pest to all
speculators in the matter of money-making—wherewith to contend, Jonathan
did not fail to make the most of it. "His meal," he said, "was better
than other people's: and, therefore, he must have some additional
profits to remunerate him for the very great risk which he had run in
buying up so much good corn, and the very great price which he had paid
therefore; and these additional profits he rigorously, or rather
religiously charged. The people of Aberdouf, it is true, grumbled a
little thereat; but he pacified them with an assurance, that
there would have been not only a great scarcity, but an actual dearth,
if he had not provided the necessary supply; and then he proceeded to
draw a comparison between himself and the patriarch Joseph, who saved
the whole land of Egypt, and half the world beside, from the scourge of
famine, by the same sort of foresight. These, it must be allowed, were
conclusive arguments, though the people to whom they were addressed, did
not seem fully to comprehend their force, nor to be so ready as they
should have been to thank Heaven for having sent a second Joseph among
them.
How much he saved by this speculation was never
exactly known; but, as Andrew Tetherend, the bellman of Aberdouf,
observed, "it must have been a gey penny."
When the whole of the meal was sold, and a plentiful
crop next year had brought down the prices to their ordinary level, it
was said that Jonathan had serious thoughts of taking unto himself a
wife, and running her in the meal-selling way, by which he
supposed a little might still be made; while he was to attend to the
grazing, and other et ceteras, as he had done before. But
somehow, upon mature consideration, it had appeared to him that there
were objections to this important step, which counterbalanced the
advantages to be expected therefrom; and, to the great dismay of those
who were most deeply interested in the "replenishing of the earth," the
thing went no farther. What these objections were was not clearly
explained; for Jonathan was a cautious man, and had the good sense, when
it was necessary, to conceal his sentiments upon such subjects; but our
friend, Andrew Tetherend, who, upon these occasions, sometimes served as
a sort of guesser-master-general to the community, said, that "he
believed the great obstacle to their being honoured with the presence of
a Mrs. Moudiwort was the circumstance of there not being a weel
tochered lass in the market at the time."
Shortly after the period at which we have now
arrived, the lease of Fodderrigs, one of Lord Crippledonky's largest
farms, expired. Does the reader suppose that Jonathan would immediately
succeed to it? No such thing. Had he done so, it might have subjected
Mr. Mungo Moudiwort, the factor, to the somewhat scowry charge of
being more ready to consult the interest of his friends than that of his
master—a charge which, in the case of such a gentleman, would have
certainly been very unfounded. And here, be it remarked, that a great
part of the character and respectability of a certain sort of honest
gentlemen depends, in a great measure, upon their taking care not to
give public grounds for bringing such charges against them.
At the end of the lease which had just expired, the
whole of the lands of Fodderrigs had been "laid down in grass," which
was forthwith to be let for pasture. The greater, however, and by far
the most productive, part of the farm was almost perfectly level, having
been, at a very considerable expense, reclaimed from a swamp by the
previous tenant; and now, to quote from the advertisement, "Contractors"
were ''wanted to clear out the large drain into which the small ones
emptied themselves." This sort of work was entirely out of Jonathan's
way, inasmuch as he had never attempted anything of the kind before; yet
he, too, "gave in his estimate," and, by offering to perform the work
cheaper than any one else, strange to say he got the job. Early in the
spring he commenced his labours; and the people of the neighbourhood
were much amazed at the conscientious, or rather super-conscientious,
manner in which he performed his work. He not only cleared out the large
open drain, according to his agreement, but the mouths of the whole of
the small ones, which, as is common in these cases, had been partly
filled with stones, and then covered up with earth, so as to allow the
plough to pass over them without interruption. The lower extremity of
the whole of these, as already said, he opened up for a yard or
two, apparently with the disinterested intention of taking out any mud
which might have collected in their bottoms; and then, laying in the
stones again, he left them, to all appearance, in a most efficient state
for keeping the land perfectly dry. The whole of these operations he
performed without any assistance; and, so great was his modesty, it was
remarked, that he never interfered with any of the small drains, if any
one chanced to be beside him.
The "large drain" was cleared out, and the whole of
the work done before the season for "letting the grass parks" came on;
but, notwithstanding this care on the part of the factor and Jonathan to
improve the pasture by keeping it dry, the land appeared to be a
thousand times wetter than it had been before. The moisture kept up to
the very surface of the ground, in the furrows long pools of clear water
were seen standing, and nothing like vegetation had made its appearance
after the spring was far advanced. The day of auction, however, arrived,
the graziers had been called together by advertisement, and the
auctioneer bawled himself hoarse in calling out, "Gentlemen, don't
deceive yourselves—once, twice—just agoing—who bids more? once, twice;"
but, in consequence of there being no appearance of grass, none of the
"gentlemen" would "bid'' anything worth mentioning for any of the lower
fields of Fodderriggs; and Jonathan might have had the whole of them for
a mere trifle, had he been so minded. But he, like a prudent and
cautious man, satisfied himself with one of the largest of them. Here,
however, his far-sighted genius again manifested itself in a manner
which might have well arrested the attention of the most unthinking;
for, in a very few days after it became his, it was as dry as it had
been for several years before, and shortly thereafter, it was clothed
with the most luxuriant herbage; while the others remained wet, sour,
and stunted throughout the season.
The plan of letting Fodderrigs, annually, in separate
lots, for pasture, was soon discovered to be untenable, it having been
found that, in this way, it would scarcely yield as much as would
satisfy the respective claims of the dominie, the minister, and his
majesty! and Lord Crippledonky accordingly instructed his factor to
advertise the farm to be let again, as it had been before. The thing was
done as his lordship desired; and a number of agriculturists from
different parts of the country "looked over the grounds," with the
intent of making up their minds as to what rent they could afford to
give for Fodderrigs. One and all of them saw, however, that the whole of
the lower fields, except that which had been tenanted by Jonathan, were
"deluged with water!" and that they would require to be drained anew
before anything could be expected from them. Formerly they had
constituted the best part of the farm. The last occupant was known to
have been very particular in the matter of drains, and had expended a
very considerable sum of money in this species of improvement, to very
little purpose, as it now appeared. Such being the case, some of the
intended "offerers" seemed to think that the land was "undrainable,"
while they all agreed in the opinion that "it could not be effectually
drained without an enormous additional outlay of capital." At the period
to which we now allude, capitalists, whether agricultural or commercial,
could not afford to throw away their money for nothing, any more than
they can do now; and thus it came to pass that the rents which
the whole of them proposed to give were of a most conveniently trifling
description. This was a most favourable state of things for Jonathan,
who, accordingly, stepped forward, and by offering five pounds
more than "the highest bidder" was promoted to the farmer of Foderrigs.
Should any reader be inclined to ask how the landlord deported himself
anent these matters, we must confess that we cannot exactly tell;
but perhaps the best answer to the question would be to say at once that
he was Lord Crippledonky, and that he lived constantly in
London.
Here we must digress a little to remark, that, but
for "the superfluous moisture," Jonathan would have commenced his career
under the most favourable auspices. "When a tenant comes to a farm,
which has been previously cropped in the ordinary manner, he must either
purchase a great deal of manure, or a great deal of unthrashed corn, and
likewise cattle wherewith to convert the straw into manure for the
succeeding crop; but Jonathan had only to "till and sow," while there
was every reason to expect that the ground, from having been previously
"rested," would produce an abundant return.
The "superfluous moisture," however, and the draining
of the lower fields, still rode, like a nightmare, if we may be allowed
the metaphor, upon the neek of his prosperity; and many doubted if the
new tenant would ever be able to get over these enormous
stumbling-blocks, which lay in the way of*his making a fortune. The
blind goddess, however, it has been laid, "favours the brave." Jonathan
had already shown his bravery by the boldness of his speculations; and
here the good lady stepped in to favour him, in a way which, to say the
least of it, was altogether miraculous ! Shortly after the bargain was
concluded, the whole of those fields which, for the last two years, had
been little better than a hog, became as dry as they had ever been
before, without a single yard of new drain having been put into them!
How was the thing to be accounted for \ It was a perfect mystery,
and a wonder to everybody except our old friend, Andrew Tetherend, who
said that "doubtless it had been the work either of the brownies or the
fairies!" In support of this theory, he told a story about his dog
hunting a rabbit into the mouth of one of the drains, as he was
returning home one evening with his spade on his shoulder; and thinking
" that the creature might mak' a patfu' o' guid kail," he set about
digging it out, when, to his utter surprise, he found only a few stones
on the outside, and behind them a bank of earth, which kept the water as
high as if no drain had ever been dug. To satisfy his own euriosity as
to whether the whole of the drain had been filled up in the same manner,
he bored a hole at the bottom of the bank with his staff, and presently
the water issued from it in a jet, which he had much difficulty in
stopping. He said farther that "he would cared little about stappin' up
the hole had it no been that the fairies were kenned to be queer bodies!
and, if he had destroyed ony o' their handiwarks; the least he could
expect was, that they would stap his lum, if they didna rive up his
early tatties, and his pickle cabbage-kail; and sae he thought it best
aye to leave things as he fand them."
From this it would appear that Andrew did not
consider himself a great favourite of Fortune, and that the "fairies,"
like everybody else, are under her direction; for had it been
.otherwise, that is to say, had he been on good terms with the blind
lady, and had she instructed them so to do, these perverse creatures
might have certainly done him a better turn than "riving up his early
tatties and his cabbage-kail." In short, they might have "delved his
yard" for him, or stolen seeds and manure for him from those who had
these things to spare, or they might have made his crops grow without
seed, or manure, or "delving," had they been so inclined; but it was
evident that their tricky mistress, Fortune, had not commanded them to
do any of these things, and as evident that Andrew did not expect to be
benefited by their labours.
In descanting upon these matters, we had nearly
forgotten to state the conclusion to which he came respecting the
drains, which was simply this,—"That the fairies had stappit them up to
be avenged on the laird for some ill he had done them; and then redd
them out again for some guid they expected to get from Jonathan
Moudiwort." And with this sapient observation let us conclude our first
chapter.