Chapter II: Part 2

“A plague take the woman,” says John, “with her Rousterdivel; do you think that I am a coward, a scoundrel, a beast, a blockhead, a milk-sop, that I must always run for protection to other people? I tell you again, that I am able to defend myself, and that I have people enow about my house to stand by me.”

“And how do you propose that they should stand by you?” says the nurse: “When Lewis sends over his game-keepers, with their guns and their sabres, who will stand by you then?”

“Odso,” says John, “cannot my people have guns and sabres as well as they?”

“Alas! then,” says the nurse, “my dream is read. You will not have a weaver in your house in three days, if you go on at that rate: who do you think will sit quietly on a loom, with guns and pistols pointing at them in every corner, and that boy George putting crackers in the candles, and firing his pistols at sparrows, and shooting the neighbours cats when they come about the hedges? See who can settle to work for you, if they are in perpetual danger of having their eyes blown out with squibs, serpents and rackets? Do you think a tradesman can do any good if he is scared at that rate?”

“Scared!” says John, “you don’t think that a weaver will be scared when he turns game-keeper, and I have none better on my grounds. If any of my people are afraid of a gun, so much the more shame to them and to me; it is the very thing I want to correct, by using them a little to what may be necessary for their own defence and mine.”

“Worse and worse,” says the nurse: “if you use them to guns, you’ll never get them to work a jot; and banishing the trade is worse than banishing the men.”

“A tenfold madness has seized your pericranium,” says John; “do you think that nobody can make broad cloth but cowards; or that a fellow won’t work, because he knows he can defend the fruits of his labour? You have no objection to the taking as many of my tradesmen as you can get, to make game-keepers of them; and because they work none, you imagine that every fellow who takes a firelock in his hand to defend himself and me, is to be idle too. Don’t the game-keepers themselves work when they are allowed, and are paid for it? have not I known them give money to their overseers, for leave to work at their own trades? and many a good penny has been got in that way. As my people are useful to me, and to themselves, I intend that they shall work in safety, and that nobody shall insult an honest tradesman of mine, whilst they and I have breath in our bodies. Do what you will, you shall never get me disgraced as you have done, with your idle jaw and nonsensical trash.”

“Bless me,” says the nurse, “what a wild project you have got in your head! You’ll tell me you want to defend your house and your estate; but to what purpose keep your estate, if you cannot find time, so much as to eat a bit of warm victuals; hurried late and early, banged, soused and drenched in all weathers, and this for fear that Lewis Baboon should turn you out of your possessions; and what matter who has your possessions, if you cannot sit down to enjoy them? _Et propter vitam vivendi perdere causas._”

“Hey-day,” says John, “your humble servant, Latin! I remember you of old.” “But goody,” says he, “I knew you lived among the boys; but don’t think to palm upon me as a commendation of eating and drinking and cowardice, what the old boy for whom I have so often been whipped, damn him, has said against a fellow who would forfeit his honour to preserve his life.”

“Well then,” says the nurse, “see how you can keep your bargain with Sir Thomas. What will he say, when he sees your house swarming with pistols and carabines, and cutlasses? you know that he does not chuse to trust any body in this house with gun-powder, except the game-keeper.”

“Blood-and-wounds,” says John, “you are more mindful of Sir Thomas than you are of me. I have heard nothing from you these twenty years, but Sir Thomas does not like this, and Sir Thomas does not like that. I was advised to take Sir Thomas into the management of my affairs, because Squire Geoffrey endeavoured to get a game-keeper of his own, and do what he pleased about my house. And now you tell me, that Sir Thomas and the game-keeper are the only people to be trusted. Those gentlemen, it seems, will trust nobody else, and who the devil will trust them? I never knew any of those suspicious people, that was much to be trusted himself. Ill doers are ill dreaders, as my sister Peg says. Odso, if Sir Thomas does not think himself safe in my parlour with me and my children, he must know of something worse than I thought of. Who was it that brought him about the house? Have not I done all that lay in my power for him? And now you and he won’t let me defend myself, because he won’t trust me. I love Sir Thomas; I mean, that he shall have the disposal of all the arms about my house, and he shall find that I am his friend, when Hubble-bubble and you are in your graves, and all the nonsense you are perpetually putting in his head and mine, is not worth a curse.”

CHAP. VII.

_What happened after this conversation with the Nurse._

Who was listening to all this discourse, but the very boy George himself, whom the nurse was so much afraid of? This youngster, instead of loitering about the kitchen or the nursery, flattering the cook-maid, or the nurse, for slops and tit-bits between meals, was perpetually rambling about in quest of some diversion without doors. He had procured a pistol and a gun, and powder and shot, all which he hid in the hay-stack, or in crannies of the barn wall. You would think that he minded nothing but climbing walls, and scrambling over hedges; but no sooner did he see two or more people serious about any thing, than he forgot all his play, came to listen, as he did to this conversation between John and his nurse, and gave such attention, that there were few articles relating to the family, of which he had not an excellent notion; and could see the folly and ridicule of people, who thought themselves over wise, as well as another: he was a perfect plague to the nurse, who hated a joke, and was often put downright mad with his dry wipes and arch sayings. He no sooner heard John talk in the peremptory manner above related, than he ran away to Mrs. Bull as fast as his legs could carry him, and told her all that her husband had said, and a great deal more of his own, without mincing the matter in the least, by which he convinced her that John was not then in an humour to be crossed, and that whether she liked the project or no, it was best to put a good face upon the matter.

Every body knows that John had devolved great part of his business upon Mrs. Bull; no tradesman’s bill could be paid without her authority, nor any receipts granted to any of John’s tenants. In short, neither John himself, nor Sir Thomas, durst go to a fair or a market, till they knew whether she would stand to their bargains. This had often been very troublesome to Sir Thomas, and till he found out the way of managing her by means of Hubble-bubble, and the like persons, he was obliged to proceed with great caution, and for the most part to stay at home, when he would fain have been a gadding.

John had been so oft married, that it may be said with safety, that no man in the world ever had more experience in matrimony. He had tasted at times both the sweet and the bitter; but it was a maxim of his, that any wife was better than none; and accordingly, no sooner one wife died, than he instantly married another. He never liked a woman the worse for having a spice of the vixen; it pleased him to hear the clack of a woman’s tongue; and the truth is, that in a family like his, it was no good sign when the mistress was not heard of both late and early. His present wife had got herself a tolerable name in the neighbourhood, as a quiet, discreet, good sort of a woman; and John, accordingly, sometimes almost forgot that she was in the family. She never let him have any of those disputes with Sir Thomas about settling the accounts, with which John had used to be delighted; but commonly passed them in the lump, saying, that every article was just what she would have thought of herself, for the good of the family. With all this good understanding with Sir Thomas, it was suspected that she had not all the respect for her husband that she should have had; and the more that she never scrupled to talk over all the arts which she had practised in the courtship, and to tell, how many a pot and penny it had cost her, to get a good word with his servants, thereby to secure John to herself, when he might have had his choice of all the country; and then she would talk of her pin-money, and little perquisites, out of which, she was perpetually endeavouring to make up some little stock for herself. The nurse and Hubble-bubble humoured her in all this way of talking, and said, to be sure, nobody would marry such an old fellow as John Bull, except with a view to get something by him. By this, and such like discourse, they had got a great deal to say with her, and could have easily persuaded her at this time to put off the project of giving out the guns, if they durst have ventured to cross John in a thing he was so much bent upon. The boy George assured Mrs. Bull, that John must have at least fifty or sixty at a time, and all that the nurse could venture upon, was to make her abate one half; with which solacing herself in the mean time, she let an order be signed for the rest.

It is hard to say, what made Hubble-bubble and the nurse so averse to this scheme. As for Hubble-bubble it is probable, as most historians agree, that he did not know very well himself. But the nurse, who was no fool, most people thought, must have some other reasons besides her dream. However this be, we shall relate facts as they occur in the course of our history.

CHAP. VIII.

_Concerning sister =Peg=._

When the accounts were brought to sister Peg of all those fine doings in John’s house; how Jowler was entrusted with every thing, and was driving it away like Jehu; and how John had brought all his arms from the cellar, and was determined to fight with Lewis Baboon himself; and how John’s hall was stuck round, as it used to be, with guns, pikes, bayonets and cutlasses, mixed, as report was, with stags branches, fox skins, and solitairs taken from Lewis in his youth; Peg expected a message every minute to desire she would garnish her hall in the same manner, and get ready the few young men she had left in her house to oppose Lewis, in case he should attempt to break in that way. But many a day passed without any tidings; and what was most surprizing of all was, that with all this lady’s wonted spleen, and acrimony when she was vexed, there was scarcely a discontented word heard from her on the occasion. One morning, indeed, at breakfast, she said, that she could not blame her brother, but that she could not well understand, what Mrs. Bull meant by putting such a slight upon her, or how it came to pass that her own clerks, whom she sent to the office, and who had nothing else to do but to mind her affairs, never let her hear a word of the matter.

This was almost all that she said, for a great while, and that with so little appearance of concern, that few historians have taken any notice of it. People who thought of former times, expected bad humour enough from her on this occasion; but the fact was, that this lady was greatly changed in her manners and deportment. From being jealous, captious, and ready to quarrel about a straw, she was grown in a very little time, a quiet easy-tempered, good-conditioned body, as could be wished, and this made some people think that the girl might have been always easy enough to live with, if people had not played tricks on porpose to vex her, which indeed was so often the case, that you would have thought her in a perpetual passion; and she was, by the habit of continual fretting, so much on the catch, that she thought herself affronted often, when no such thing was meant. In those days her servants had better lose their ears, than slight her in the manner they now did, and they commonly stood as much in awe of her, as the servants in John’s, or any other house could do of their master and mistress. But it was a changed world now. Her elder boys and upper servants passed most of their time out of the house, and sent any orders they pleased, about the kitchen, the cellar, or the farm; and those who stayed at home, and did the work of the family, forgot the way to complain.

Whilst John’s house perpetually rung with the marrow-bones and cleavers, or cat-calls and groans either in honour or contempt of the upper-servants, according to their behaviour; insomuch, that Mrs. Bull’s own woman durst not give herself any saucy airs; in Peg’s house all was hush, the good and the bad were used almost alike; and as to the business of the office, it was out of sight out of mind with Peg; she sent her clerks to wait upon Mrs. Bull, and although she was at no pains to send people that would not require looking after, yet she never inquired any more about the matter. Accordingly, they not only neglected her concerns, but often got bits of the best, for abusing her to the nurse and the game-keeper, and others of Mrs. Bull’s gossips; and few or none of them thought of any thing, but how to get a share to themselves of what was going about Mr. Bull’s house. She had even the mortification to see some of the worst of them come home, from John’s counting-room, with directions to keep the keys of her cellar and pantry, and deal out the victuals to her children; in doing which, they had a wonderful jargon, which nobody could understand, but which had a strange effect in benumning and stupifying all their hearers. They talked perpetually of the _people above_, the _great folks_, or _the people in power_; and now and then would whisper Peg herself, that if she kept her temper, the _people above_ might possibly make her a present of a hood, or a tippet, or a new petticoat, at a proper time; and though she did not know, who the devil these people above were, she was perpetually gulled with this sort of talk. Those who pretend to understand these matters, say, that the people above were such as had the naming of John Bull’s servants, and that they contrived new offices, and a variety of perquisites and vails, on purpose to allure people, who were willing to sell their souls to hell, and cheat their own father and mother.

CHAP. IX.

_How =Lewis Baboon= was belaboured and drubbed; and how =Jowler= behaved._

What we have already set forth, was the real state of sister Margaret’s affairs, when her brother took that sturdy resolution for himself, but left her out. His, indeed, was the best part of the family, and it was well that matters were carried so far. John was likely some time or other to go all lengths for his sister, as well as for himself; and it was the fashion at this time to say, that the great Jowler would never stop, till every good work was accomplished; but historians do not mention any great things that he did in the matter. It appears, indeed, that this fellow did set himself in earnest to touzle Lewis Baboon, and so beset the lake and the common, that Lewis could no where appear, without getting a knock on the pate with an oar, or a punch in the guts with a hand-hoe, and sometimes had musket-bullets whistling about his ears so thick, that he ran as if all the devils in hell were let loose at his heels.

In short, Jowler went on helter-skelter; and as long as John and his wife were in the humour of paying his bills, he hired all the poachers, game-keepers, and whippers-in in the country, and did not care a farthing for a fellow, unless he could send him off the country, to do some mischief or other. For this reason he made John get as many game-keepers as possible, but never a word of arming his own children. He made up matters again with Rousterdivel, gave him all he asked, and encouraged him to play the devil in the house of Squire South, John’s old friend. He sent more people to look after Sir Thomas’s farm, than ever were there before in this world. He brought John in bills of expence laid out in the East country, so extravagant, and consisting of so many articles, that you would have thought all the taylors and apothecaries in the country, had been concerned in making them up. But Jowler minded nothing of all this; as long as John was in the humour, he went on, and bullied and roared, and spent his money, as if the master’s salvation depended on the noise which his man Jowler should make in the neighbourhood; and there was nothing to stop him, for peoples tongues were tied up, some by one thing, some by another; and well did he know how to hold one tongue, that used to be the loudest of all on the like occasions.

There was, however, seldom a day but John had the news of some mischance befalling his foe Lewis, and then he had the marrow-bones and cleavers at his door, and his house rung with dancing of hornpipes, jigs, and country bumkins. It was in vain to tell him that these things would not avail his family a sixpence after all was over, and that he had forgot the fine resolutions he had taken, about the defence of his own house at home, the clearing up of his old arms, and sending his children to the fencing-school.

Jowler kept him perpetually drunk, in order to get his money to spend; there was seldom a night, but he made him drink twelve bumpers, and dance three hornpipes; so that John frequently exposed himself to the neighbourhood, and in his cups talked no less than of taking the half of Lewis Baboon’s estate to himself.

In all this hurry-scurry, the nurse and Hubble bubble were laughing in their sleeves; they saw their own game played to better purpose, than ever they durst venture to play it. Sir Thomas and they got the fingering of more money than ever they had seen before in their lives, and they might lay it out where they pleased, so they let Jowler have the honour of the treat: whilst in the mean time they saw no necessity of taking the arms out of the cellar, and they hoped, that John would soon forget all that he ever said upon the subject. And so, perhaps, he would, till Lewis Baboon chose to put him in mind of it again, if it had not been for the boy George, and one or two more. But George never rested till he got his gun again, which the game-keeper had taken from him some time before; and there was no hindering of him, from getting some choice fellows together on holidays to shoot, as he had an order for it under Mrs. Bull’s own hand.

The nurse then thought that she would give them their bellyful; she said, that Lewis Baboon was coming, and advised Sir Thomas to call them out of their beds, at all hours of the night, to send them over hedge and ditch, from post to pillar, and never give them any rest, in hopes that they would tire of their project; she thought that when they found there was no money to be got by the bargain, they would beg to be off. And here historians observe, that this good woman had forgotten, how much young people like fun better than money. But still she made something of a bad bargain; she advised Sir Thomas never to let these people come home, because Lewis Baboon was coming, and to send away all the game-keepers to his own farm, because Lewis Baboon was not coming. In short, we can find no clear account of Lewis Baboon’s real intention, in any historian of that age, much less collect any opinion about it from the conduct of John Bull’s advisers at this time.

CHAP. X.

_How sister =Peg= began to look about her; and how she wrote a letter to her brother =John=._

Many were the freaks which John had taken in his head at different times: he once thought of turning lawyer, as every body knows; but he now despised that and every other profession, and would be nothing less than a duke or a lord. He thought that he only wanted a suitable estate to maintain his dignity, and encouraged every scheme that was laid before him for acquiring it. He had, accordingly, twenty proposals brought him every day in writing by Jowler, all entitled, “Speedy and easy methods of acquiring a great land estate, humbly addressed to John Bull, Esq;” Islands were to be seized here and there by main force; the whole common was to be inclosed, without enquiring who had a right there; plantations were to be cut down, and sent to market; farms were to be let to tenants that John could confide in, and every door was to be chalked with John Bull’s name in great letters.

Why should not I, says he, have a great estate, as well as another? Every body knows, that Lewis did not come honestly by all he has, yet the rogue is never the worse esteemed in the neighbourhood.

Whilst John’s head was busied with these hopeful projects, the news came that Lewis Baboon was coming in earnest. John looked like a person just awake from his first sleep, and made some motions towards the back-door, before he recollected that he had some guns ready in the hall, and that he and his people must be affronted for ever, if they did not pluck up their spirits. He saw a good many of his people ready to stand by him, and the blood returned to his face; the game-keepers were all brought into the yard; and the nurse herself was then glad to see as many of John’s people in arms as possible; the watermen were sent out in the barge to meet Lewis Baboon; and John, in short, passed the night, as easily as could be expected of a man in his situation.

It is an old saying, Every man for himself, and God for us all. John in his hurry, barricading his doors, and posting his people, forgot his sister Margaret altogether. There was, indeed, a game-keeper lodged in her house, but this poor fellow could scarcely pretend to secure one door, and Lewis had twenty methods of coming into her house, where there was neither lock nor latch, nor a single pistol to resist any body, that should attempt to force his way; and the worst on’t was, that Lewis had sent a sculler, with some of his game-keepers boys, to take advantage of this situation. What could a poor woman do? the maids and the children screamed in every corner of the house, and Jowler sent a gun to Mac Lurchar, as if Peg’s garret was the only place exposed, and left her pantry and her cellar to take care of themselves.

Many people in the house were of opinion, that she should write immediately to her brother John, to represent her case, and put him in mind, that when she trusted her affairs to the management of his clerks, it was in hopes that her concerns would be equally looked after with his own. Jack, who by this time had sown his wild oats, and was grown an orderly conversable fellow as you would desire to see, was clear for writing this letter. “From the little I have seen of this troublesome neighbourhood,” says he, “I am convinced that no family is safe from ill neighbours, and thievish servants, without the master and his children can take care of themselves. _As arrows are in the hands of a mighty man_, says the Psalmist, _so are children of the youth. Happy the man that hath his quiver full of them: they shall not be ashamed, but speak with the enemies in the gate._ That is the true defence,” says Jack, “and let us have it. A game-keeper may be out of the way, but the child of the house is always by his father’s side.” In short, as he was no trifler, so he was seldom idle, when there was any thing of consequence to be done, and never minded whether his opinion was asked or no. He spoke loudly on this occasion, and as he kept a regular correspondence with Sir Thomas, never failed to tell him his mind. Peg herself, who, as we have said, was rather gentle and inoffensive in her ordinary deportment, gave some signs of discontent and vexation; you could see a little fierceness return to her eye, and the affection and confidence with which she had always of late regarded her brother, perhaps, at this time helped to augment her displeasure. It is a grievous thing to be neglected by people to whom we make advances of kindness and respect: this, however, did not extort from her any injurious terms to her brother. If there was a cloud, it was readier to break upon his enemies head than on his. The truth is, that instead of having that waspish cross disposition, which she had often discovered in her youth, she now needed some encouragement and spiriting up, to be able to defend her own. This did not hinder many people from thinking her greatly improved; she had, indeed, more bloom in her complexion, or was rather less pale than formerly, and was what you may call a tight comely woman to converse with, rather than one of your delicate beauties. But be her person what it would, it was necessary to defend her house and her children; and people told her, that if she would write to her brother, he would not hesitate a moment about putting it in her power to do so. Peg was not near so ready in taking resolutions as she used to be, when left entirely to shift for herself; and even so small a matter as writing a letter, she put off from day to day; at last, she got up one morning very early, and with the assistance of some of her children and relations, drew up a scroll of the following letter, which was afterwards copied out fair, and sent by a careful person to her brother.

_A copy of Margaret’s letter to her brother =John=._

“My dear Brother,

“It was with great pleasure that I heard lately from people who frequent your house, that you had taken a resolution not to depend any longer upon Nicholas Frog or Rousterdivel for your defence; that you had collected your spirit very opportunely, and have since found yourself fortified, by what is the real strength of every family, the affection and vigour of your own children. My heart warmed to the prospect of finding myself in the same situation, and I could have almost wished for an opportunity to see your children and mine fairly united, against some common oppressor, a case in which I hope they will always be invincible. But whatever my situation may be, I do not repine at your prosperity. Our interests, indeed, are unseparable, and I cannot be persuaded, when matters go well with you, that they can, at the long run, go ill with me or my family. This made me bear patiently with your people’s neglect of me, when they ordered your family into a posture of defence; and indeed, unless it had come of yourself at that time, I was unwilling to have any matter started, which might have embarassed you in what you was about, by furnishing, as I was told it might do, the people who were disposed to cross you, with arguments against your scheme. Those gentlemen, it seems, have a language ready prepared with respect to me, but I enter into no contentions with them. It seems that words have their weight after their meaning has ceased to be believed. It is in this way only, that I can understand, why a suspicion thrown upon me in words should be regarded, whilst your servants in my own sight, carry arms to Mac Lurchar, the only person almost whom you or I have reason to distrust. I do not condemn that proceeding of yours; it is an instance of your openness and good-nature, and I believe has met with a fellow, who has the heart to stand by his friends, and who, if properly directed, will fight for you and me, rather than for any body else.

“But whatever my reasons were, for delaying to put you and Mrs. Bull in mind of me, I cannot, in justice to my own family, delay it any longer. Your prosperity I shall always consider as my own; but there are certain distinctions, which if borne in silence by me, must, even in your own opinion, render me unworthy of the relation I bear to you. You used to call me proud. I wish I may not have erred on the other extreme. When you cease to be proud, I shall not esteem my brother the more. But whatever weaknesses I may have, how could you for a moment think of reducing me to the necessity of asking as a favour, what is the birth-right of all mankind, liberty to defend myself? I was possessed of this liberty, before I entrusted my affairs to the management of your servants; and if you and I both afterwards ceased to use it, that part of our history, perhaps, had better be past in silence. It never occurred to me, that you might perhaps resume it yourself, without offering it to me.

“If a partial distribution of arms in your own family alarmed you, as it must do every man of common reason, what must I think? the only person to whom the means of self-defence are denied, whilst I am surrounded on every hand, by those who carry a badge of superiority, more certain than scepters or empty pageantry. If my neighbours are at variance, whoever is uppermost, it seems, I must be at under, a poor tame drudge, unable to keep my own, or assist my friends.

“I should tire you, if I was to say every thing that occurs to me on this alarming subject, and upon an occasion which would justify greater degrees of impatience, than I have hitherto expressed. When I think, that the very enemy against whom your people have taken such care to secure themselves, is now hovering about my doors, where he is sure neither to find lock nor bar, nor a single musket to oppose his entry, I may well lose my patience, and wish at least to hear the cause of this difference explained.

“I shall direct my own people with you, how to act upon this occasion; and I must beg the favour, that you will assist in procuring me directions how to proceed in warding off the blow, with which I am now threatened; or let me know where I am to find bread for my children, if what I have within my doors is the property of every fool, who may be disposed to take it.

“I am,
with the sincerest esteem
and affection, yours, &c.

“MARGARET.”

This letter had a tone of impatience, perhaps, because it was the sudden burst of a sentiment, which Margaret had been at some pains to stifle. She meant, as historians affirm, only to speak of the present alarm; yet she broke into the subject at once, and then was almost ashamed to own, that she or her children were afraid of Lewis Baboon’s scurvy waterman, though, to say the truth, she could then have made no defence.

CHAP. XI.

_How this letter was received by =John=._

Margaret certainly did her brother wrong, if she supposed that he had ever refused her the privilege of defending herself, or that he was in any degree averse, to give his consent to whatever might be necessary for that purpose. The fact was, that he had forgot her altogether, and never once thought of the question, whether she should be put upon the same footing with himself in this particular.

When John Bull acted from his own temper, and without reflection, he never discovered any remains of distrust or antipathy to his sister: but when any matter came to be seriously considered, and friends, as John expressed himself, were consulted, then he had, indeed, some unfavourable maxims relating to her, which he had retained from his youth, without having ever examined them since; and any ill-disposed person, putting him in mind of a bit of custard or cheese-cake, which she had snatched from him in the nursery, could have revived all his antient prejudices; and then, indeed, from his manner of talking, you would imagine that his pockets were in perpetual danger. And speaking of his sister and her family, you would imagine that he had got a nest of gypsies whom he could not dislodge from his barn, that their fingers were perfect fish-hooks or harpies claws, perpetually sticking in his back. There were people enow who found it of use, to put him in this mood, and they were sure never to neglect it, when any of Peg’s people whom they did not like, came about the house to sell trinkets, or asking for service. Then they would ask John, whether he meant to bring the itch into his family, or go to bed in perpetual fear of having his throat cut? But if any body came, who was in the use of flattering, lying, or pimping for themselves, then a lousy fellow who had been kicked out of Peg’s house, was the most valuable person in the world, and John could not do too much for him.

You may believe, that if Hubble-bubble or the nurse, had been warned of a person’s coming with a letter from Peg on this occasion, they would not have failed to have called, Stop Thief; but by good luck the letter was delivered into their master’s own hands, and they durst not for their lives say a word more on the subject at that time. John had got some bumpers that afternoon; his watermen had met with Lewis Baboon’s people, and he was gone abroad with Jowler, to see some boats that had been taken from Lewis, and wrecks that had been driven on shore. When he had read Peg’s letter: “Ah!” says he, “poor sister here is mightily afraid indeed. Here is a spot of work now, Jowler. She is not so much afraid either, but she wants that her young men should be armed as well as mine.” “Signify to her,” says Jowler, “that the greatness and importance of the affairs, in which you are now engaged, must throw all domestic details into a season of more leisure.” “Ay, ay,” says John, “tell her we are drinking Lewis Baboon’s dirge here, the fellow’s joints are stiff by this time; tell her to open a new tap for her boys, let them be merry, that’s all. She shall not see Lewis Baboon this twelvemonth, I warrant her. However, as to the affair of getting guns in her house, if my wife and she can agree about it, I have no objections.”

CHAP. XII.

_How Mrs. =Bull=’s attendants were prepared on this subject._

Margaret could scarcely expect any other answer from her brother; he might, indeed, have talked to his wife, and it would have become him to have done so very loudly; but the settling matters of that kind, was left entirely to her and Sir Thomas. This circumstance Peg knew, and accordingly wrote to Mrs. Bull, Sir Thomas, and all her own clerks in the office, to each in the stile which was proper for her to make use of; and as all the originals are in our hands, not to interrupt the course of our narration, we intend to defer the publication of them, with that of many other original papers, to the conclusion of this great work.

Notwithstanding that Peg had taken all this trouble, many people were of opinion that the affair would never be heard of in the counting-room, so much were they used to see Peg’s affairs overlooked; but they were mistaken. Gilbert told Mrs. Bull the first or second time he saw her, what a suit he was to present from her sister, and two or three of Peg’s boys were determined that it should not go without a hearing. Mean time, the nurse and Hubble-bubble were not idle. The scheme which they thought to have frustrated was taking place very fast. The boy George and his companions were laughing at them as usual, and the young men who had been sent out to watch Lewis Baboon’s motions, past their time merrily in the fields, playing at cricket, pitch-bar, and foot-ball, from morning to night, eat their victuals with a good appetite, and slept as sound in a barn, as ever they had done in the best bed in John’s house: all which, the nurse would not have believed, if you had sworn it to her on all the four evangelists. In short, there was no appearance of their tiring, and they would have held out through mere spite, if they had been tired, when they found that there was any intention to vex them.

All this was sore enough upon the nurse, without being obliged to see her predictions equally falsified, by having the same thing tried in sister Peg’s house. This she could by no means think of with any patience, and she determined to do all she could with Mrs. Bull to prevent it. For this purpose, Hubble-bubble and she took their opportunity to talk to many of Mrs. Bull’s attendants. They put them in mind of all the perquisites, presents and vails, which had been so kindly thrown in their way; observed of what consequence the present affair was to them, and that if they suffered their friends to be baffled, and discredited, they must not expect to be served so, in time coming. You may soon get other people in our places, said they, who will be willing to court you for the sake of your mistress; but can you go as familiarly to a new comer, to ask for a bit of victuals, or a glass of liquor between meals? By this and such like talk, they contrived to secure the people who had Mrs. Bull’s ear. And though they were sure of herself at last, yet matters would go much more smoothly, if they could get any of sister Peg’s own clerks to give up the affair, as if she was not very much bent upon it herself.

Historians agree, that they tampered with many people for this purpose; but it is well known that not a soul of them would listen to proposals of that kind, till they came to Bumbo, whom they would have tried sooner, if they had not thought themselves sure of him, and at the same time known what degree of credit he was likely to bring them. They had sometimes let him loose upon Mrs. Bull before, to very little purpose; although for discourse he was always ready, and had stuff in his head, which might be turned into jocular sayings, serious sentences, pathetic declamations, angry ebullitions, or plaintive ditties, with equal propriety. He made the same thing pass in all these shapes, but the hearers did not know either when to laugh or cry, unless he gave them a signal, by a slap in the chops, a remarkable roar, or a doleful whine, by means of which it was dangerous to sit near him; and whether you was near him or no, the changes of his voice produced an odd sort of mounting and dipping, like the heaving of waves, and had the same effect in raising a violent inclination to vomit. They say, that he had often turned Mrs. Bull’s stomach, and that she always took cordials when she expected a visit from him. This being the case, he was to be employed with caution; but he had still one quality, from which they expected some good, and that was his precise and accurate method of dividing mankind into Thomists and Geoffrites; in the last of which classes, he commonly put his mother Peg.

A Geoffrite originally meant any person who was for restoring Squire Geoffrey to the management of John Bull’s business, and a Thomist the opposite. What this gentleman meant by these appellations nobody could find out, for he sometimes bestowed them indifferently on Sir Thomas’s best friends; and what is more surprizing still, on people who never thought of Sir Thomas nor Squire Geoffrey in all their lives; as well as some others, who never thought of any thing at all, but how to fill their own bellies and their pockets. He himself, it was said, was a Thomist of this kind; but whilst he did nothing himself, but swallow the warm pottage he had got from John Bull’s nurse, he wanted to persuade you, that other people’s heads were constantly taken up about the divine right of attornies to treat their clients as they pleased. A Geoffrite was his favourite topic to speak upon; but whether it was to show his sagacity in finding out what escaped other people, or merely because he had never seen any body paid for finding out Thomists, it is certain, that for one Thomist, he would point you out a dozen of Geoffrites; and you would be surprized, how the devil Sir Thomas got into the management of John Bull’s or sister Peg’s business at all, as Bumbo certainly was not in the way to help him to it.

With all these considerations pro and con, the nurse was extremely desirous to see him; and as fortune would have it, he was no less anxious to see her. He wanted at this very time a special reward for all his services, no less than to be appointed major-domo in Peg’s own house: this was a sort of a man house-keeper, and was commonly a grave elderly person who kept the keys of Peg’s pantry, and entertained as he thought proper any of the tenants, who had affairs about the house. The last major-domo was lately dead; and as John Bull’s nurse took the charge of all pantries and nurseries far and near, and would let nobody meddle with them, but who was of her own chusing, it was not doubted at this time, that her favourite Bumbo would be the man. But in order to secure it the more, he furnished himself with a list of some dozen of Geoffrites, picked up nobody knows how, and containing some of those who were likely to oppose himself, in getting the major-domo-ship in Peg’s family. With this provision he went down stairs, and so across the court to John Bull’s house.

CHAP. XIII.

_How =Bumbo= discoursed with =John Bull=’s Nurse, and found her not so great a fool as he thought her._

Bumbo, without staying to speak with any body, went straight to the nurse’s closet, where he found her very melancholy, lamenting her connection with such a fool as Hubble-bubble, and not much comforted with the thought of having nobody now to trust to but Bumbo. However, as the saying is, a drowning man will catch at a straw; whenever he appeared, she got up and embraced him. Which he understanding to be as much as to say, My dear major-domo, I am glad to see you, was going to thank her, when she broke out into a perfect rage against sister Peg and her family.

What, says she, is the meaning of this impertinent saucy letter, you have sent from your house to Mr. Bull? have I not enough to do with his own humours and his freaks, without your refreshing his memory, and pretending to copy after him like the ass in Æsop? Set you up, indeed! we should bring our matters to a fine pass, if we minded all your letters and remonstrances.

I hope your ladyship, says Bumbo, does not imagine that I had any hand in writing that letter, or would put any thing in Peg’s head, which I knew to be so disagreeable to your ladyship; indeed, I could not shew myself any where, without the hazard of being absolutely worried by the people who were for writing that insolent letter.

What shall we do then? says the nurse; if that vixen is so much bent upon this whim, Mrs. Bull cannot possibly refuse her husband’s own sister, what the world will call so poor a favour; it would look like mere jealousy and spleen, and might breed heart-burnings between the two families.

Here Mr. Bumbo, perceiving the good woman’s extreme distress, thought how he best might comfort her, and thereby turn the discourse to the affair of his own major-domo-ship. My dear madam, says he, don’t be uneasy; this letter was written by a parcel of Geoffrites, of whom I have a list in my pocket; the few Thomists that are in that house, would sooner be hanged than do any thing so disagreeable to your ladyship.

Yours are right Thomists, says the nurse; ours here are more troublesome about those matters, than any body; but assure me, says she, that this letter is a forgery, and I shall love you as long I breathe.

A mere forgery upon my salvation, says Bumbo.

Well said, says she, what comfort you give me! Let us away to Mrs. Bull, and have those forgers tried to the utmost.

Before your ladyship goes, says Bumbo, I have a little affair to mention: your ladyship knows, that the major-domo is dead, may not I presume to hope, that your ladyship will do me a good office with Sir Thomas on this occasion?

Assure yourself that you shall be major-domo, says the nurse; but you must not go, till Mrs. Bull has heard your evidence about the forgery.

Upon my honour and reputation, says Bumbo, there is no occasion; the forgery will appear quite plain, every word of it forged, as I declare to you; but that unnatural woman was persuaded to desire me to second her application, and your ladyship knows, that even a major-domo leads but a dog’s-life, if the mistress and every body be against him. There is Small-Trash, the Laird of Lick-pelf’s brother, will give his oath about the forgery; and that is the same thing as if I did it myself, for every body knows that we always swear the same things.

I don’t understand your scruples now says the nurse; would any woman desire you to second a forged application? Besides nobody ever heard of Small-Trash; and we cannot be answerable for trusting his evidence. Stay, stay, my dear major-domo, and give us your own proper evidence in this important point of forgery.

I pray, says Bumbo, that your ladyship would consider my straits; I dare not say a word about Geoffrites; every body will roar, and say, they knew what was a coming; nor dare I speak my mind about Peg; I beg that your ladyship would not expose me like a bawd on the pillory, to be pelted, battered, and splashed with rotten eggs, chewed apples, and street dirt, for the faithful counsel which I give in your private ear. I will do twice as much for you in another way.

Well, well, says the nurse, I see the matter is hard, Gilbert and James will carry all before them. I shall neither meddle nor make; Sir Thomas will be imposed upon about the major-domo-ship. There are many people looking for the place, and let me tell you it is an office of great consequence. You are young, Mr. Bumbo; and they say, you are hot when my back is turned, and you do not understand much of the larder or the pantry, and you huff the poor tenants when they come about the kitchen, and that Margaret herself has not that confidence in you, which the mistress of a family should have in a person, who has such a trust about her house. In short, I have had many disputes on your account, and now I am an old woman, and don’t meddle much. There is little appearance of my being able to obtain this favour for you; but you may talk to Sir Thomas about it yourself. I am, indeed, very much out of order; old age has many infirmities; a very severe cough I have, and am troubled with wind; indeed, I have not eat an ounce of victuals for these three days.

It is impossible to describe what passed in Bumbo’s countenance during this harangue. It changed from suspence to embarrassment, from embarrassment to confusion, from confusion to absolute despair; and there it settled, when the nurse concluded her speech and was just a going. Well, says he, with a faultering voice, I have got many enemies on your account and Sir Thomas’s; here they are, pulling the list out of his pocket, sworn Geoffrites, as I hope to be saved.

That will not do, Mr. Bumbo, says the nurse; we do not care a rush for your Geoffrites or your Thomists either. They do well enough in their time, but when one is about serious business, I hate trifling. If John Bull and his sister take the defence of their houses upon themselves, we may all go packing. What influence can any body have in a family, where he has little or nothing to give away? I have been all my life contriving things for Sir Thomas and myself, to take to ourselves, or to give away, and now you would have us part with one of the best things we have. I have found, Mr. Bumbo, that a person’s influence in any family, depends on the number of good things he has to give; you must have caps, ribbons and petticoats for the maids, sugar-plumbs for the children, and luncheons for the clerks, and be able to help a footman now and then out of livery, otherwise they will not give an old song for you; and Sir Thomas has found plenty about John’s house, otherwise Mrs. Bull and he would not be so good friends as they are. People must have their vails and their perquisites. Many a time has Sir Thomas obliged his friend with a game-keeper’s place or so; and consider with yourself, that if John continues to do any part of that business himself, what numbers, not only of game-keepers, foresters and whippers-in, but even weavers, taylors, smiths, accountants, bakers, tanners, and shoe-makers, will forget the way to Sir Thomas’s closet, and never think more of Hubble-bubble, or your humble servant. And then the management of Rousterdivel’s affairs when he was brought over, was an excellent thing; trust me, many a pretty fortune has been got by Rousterdivel. But it is all over, Mr. Bumbo, all over; and now a person who comes to ask for a major-domo-ship, thinks he may do what he pleases.

Much honoured madam, says Bumbo, I hope you do not consider the scruples of a friend as an absolute refusal. I have always been ready to swear what you please, and if my oath be required to this forgery, I am ready to give it.

That was spoken like a major-domo, says the nurse; let us away to Hubble-bubble, and settle the tenour of your evidence.

CHAP. XIV.