It may be hard enough to tell how any matter of a family came to keep such people about him; but the most amazing thing of all is, how John Bull, so kind a father, and so good a master, should ever think of entertaining so many of them, and trust more to their affection, than to that of his own children.
It is true, that John’s heart has always misgiven him in this project; he generally keeps a dozen or so, but nobody could ever prevail on him, or Mrs. Bull, to tell how long they were to keep them; and every Saturday night when he pays off his workmen, he always says, Gentlemen, whereas it goes against my conscience, to keep some damned rascals perpetually about my house, you are to remain only for next week, and no longer; but still he keeps them on in this manner from one week to another, for which he has many salvo’s. In the first place, says John, I don’t take any body but my own tenants sons, or now and then an idle fellow from my own farm, and I have always some of my own boys who keep them company; so that they always behave very respectfully to me, and have often taken my part, when such fellows as Nicholas Frog keeps would have cut my throat. Secondly, says John, I only keep them as long as Squire Geoffrey and his abettors are like to be troublesome, which I hope will not be long. But many of John’s enemies said, that there was a better reason than all these put together, viz. that he was afraid to fire a gun himself, and was frightened out of his senses when he had not some of his bullies by him.
Whether this was the cause, or the effect of his keeping those fellows, it must be owned that John Bull, who used to be a bold hearty fellow, always master in his own house, and afraid of nothing, began to sneak about the doors, and would start at his own shadow; and when there was any noise in the orchard, or poultry-yard, he would scour up to the garret, and leave the game-keepers and the thieves to do what they pleased with his effects, shutting his eyes, and stopping his ears, that he might not see or hear any shooting of guns, of which in truth he was become marvelously afraid. Lewis Baboon had no more ado, but to give out that he was going to pay a civil visit to John, in order to put the whole house in a pannic: and this word pannic was grown so familiar with John, that he had it always ready as an excuse for running away upon the slightest occasion.
CHAP. III.
How John got a terrible fright in his own house of Bull-hall.
It was not always without cause, that John Bull disliked the visits of Lewis Baboon; he knew what fine sport that rogue might have made for himself in such a house; and that besides cuckoldom, many other misfortunes might have befallen the landlord. But history, with all her gravity, will scarcely make posterity believe, how much John was afraid of his own sister Margaret’s garret lodgers. Once upon a time, two or three of them being seduced by some outlandish person, who stiled himself young Mr. Geoffrey, got down stairs, ran into Margaret’s dining room and drawing-room, overset the china, drank the cream, and having found one of John’s game-keepers teaching the maids to coddle apples in the back-kitchen, gave him a slap in the chops, and poured the scalding water on him. From thence they proceeded as they thought proper; and though Margaret threw her poker at them as they passed, with an air of great bitterness and vexation, yet John took it in his head that it was all her doing, and sent her word to keep them at home, otherwise he would set fire to her house: but just as he was talking in this strain, and abusing his poor sister as a treacherous vixin, who might have kept better order in her house if she pleased, he was silenced at once with a knock on the pate; and without staying to see what was the matter, ran up to the leads, called out to his game-keepers, who were gone nobody knows where, then to Nicholas Frog, Rousterdivel, and all the damned names you can think of, to come to the assistance of John Bull, whose throat was just going to be cut in his own house.
Mean time, Mr. Luchar, for this was the ringleader in all this mischief, continued to do what he pleased. Whenever he met any of John’s fellows, he asked, What trade are you? And if they were weavers, he made them furnish what cloth he wanted; threatening to rip up their guts. In like manner, if they were brewers, tanners, cooks, scullions, or malsters, each in his way had something good for Mr. Luchar, and the fellow had learned not to be afraid, although there were three hundred of them together.
This fray, however, did not last long; Mr. Luchar was tired, and went away home to his garret, and John, who had been more afraid than hurt, came down stairs, and when he saw that the foe was actually gone, called out to set fire to Peg’s house, to burn her, and all her vermin; for, says he, we shall never get any peace for them. Mean time, the game-keeper took heart at last, went up to the garret, and gave Mr. Luchar a stunning blow in the guts, just as he was stripping to go to bed, and dragged him down to the court, where John was in a little prevailed on to come and see the object of his terror, with his hands tied behind his back. Then, indeed, he began to be ashamed of his own behaviour, and abused all his people for letting him be so much afraid; he scolded the very scullions for letting the bacon be carried off by so paultry a fellow as Mr. Luchar. In short, he and every body else threw the blame upon his neighbour, but all agreed in cursing and sinking sister Peg, to the deepest pit of hell.
It was hard to say what the poor woman had done to deserve all this treatment; but some people set to work with her merely because it was the fashion, and others found their account in it, some in one way, some in another. As for the game-keeper, it was not very difficult to see his motive; he had never beat any body before in all his life, and wanted now to magnify his feats as much as he could, and accordingly said, that few people knew the amount of what he had done; that if he had not fought with sister Margaret’s people one and all, he was no true man; that he totally subdued them, and knew of nobody to compare himself to, but the ancient conquerors. That if any body said, that the whole of Margaret’s people was not against him, he was a scoundrel, and a rascal, and not to be trusted.
After this, who and who were to be trusted became the great question in John’s house. There was no pretending to any thing without being able to talk about trusting; and some people would scarcely let John Bull trust himself. As for poor Peg, he was the finest fellow that spoke the most ill of her. Even some of her own children who took care of nobody but themselves all the time that Mr. Luchar was stirring, came abroad now to confess with regret, that their mother was a sad vixin; that she had given Mr. Luchar a dram of cherry-brandy, before he set out upon that damned unnatural diabolical hell-fire scamper; that for their parts it was true, they had the misfortune to be born in her house, some people said of her own proper person, but few people know who their real parents are: this, however, they knew, that they had left her very young, and never liked her company. When one had made such a speech as this, another endeavoured still to improve upon it; and if one gave his mother two, three, or more abusive epithets, the next did not fail to give five or six. At last one great dolt of a fellow, called Bumbo, made a shift to get a round dozen of them on his fingers ends, with which he never failed to entertain John Bull as often as he met him.