I am sorry, however, to say, that many of Augustine's original congregation pursued a different course. The innuendos against Martin, and the hints which they had received as to the possible comparative innocence of Peter, had taken deep root in their minds. They became, moreover, so used to a ceremonial, which differed little from that patronised by Peter, except in being less gorgeous, that they acquired a secret hankering for the entire undiluted ritual; and their nostrils thirsted for a whiff of frankincense, which even Augustine, refused to allow them. The consequence was that they began, in imitation of their pastor, to hold interviews with Peter's emissaries, who, you may suppose, were ready to meet them half-way; and from little to more, matters grew to such a head, that many of Augustine's most sincere disciples turned their back upon him, and went over bodily to Peter! This was an awful blow and discomfiture to Augustine, who certainly had meditated nothing of the sort; but it had not the effect of curing him. He still went on maundering about his Uncle Peter, as if that venerable individual had been as much sinned against as sinning; and, in spite of all that Martin could say, he would not abate one jot of his observances. Peter's emissaries, in the mean time, were as active as ferrets in a rabbit warren. They never emerged from their holes without fetching out a new victim, whom they paraded to the whole world as a pattern of docility and virtue. They wrote long letters to Peter, glorifying themselves on their success; and stating that the time had now arrived when all Bullockshatch was prepared to throw itself at his feet. But in this they reckoned entirely without their host. They took it for granted that the proceedings in Augustine's chapel were approved of by the whole tenantry on the estate; whereas the fact was, that nine out of ten of them looked to Martin as their spiritual guide and counsellor, and entertained an intense contempt for Augustine, which they only refrained from expressing in broad set terms, by reason of his relationship to their pastor. Peter, however, was very glad to receive news of this kind; and swallowed it, without making too minute an inquiry. Long experience had taught him that it was always best to assume a victory, without being particular as to the details; and, as those who were intrusted with the superintendence of Squire Bull's estate, had latterly shown themselves exceedingly amenable to his jurisdiction, and quite hostile to the pretensions of Martin, and of poor Patrick, whom he longed in the first instance to subjugate, he had some grounds for supposing that the present was by no means a bad opportunity for reviving his old claim of dominion over the whole territory of Bullockshatch. These letters from his emissaries had reached him before his interview with Mat-o'-the-Mint—a circumstance which perhaps may afford a clue to the nature of his conversation with that singularly acute individual.
CHAPTER VI.
HOW PROTOCOL FELL FOUL OF SQUIRE OTHO; AND HOW HE WAS CALLED TO A RECKONING IN CONSEQUENCE.
After Mat-o'-the-Mint's return to Bullockshatch, Protocol found himself very much like a fish out of water. That honest gentleman laboured under a constitutional infirmity, being subject to fits of hypochondria whenever Squire Bull happened to be at peace and amity with his neighbours. At such times it was not very safe to approach him. He was sulky, petulant, and irritable; and in default of any more legitimate occupation, usually took an opportunity of picking a quarrel with some of his fellow-servants. You may therefore easily believe, that he was no great favourite in the household. Gray and others would willingly have got rid of him if they durst, but Protocol had been long in the service, and knew so many of their secret ways and doings, that he had them completely in his power. Therefore, whenever he began to exhibit any of his pestilent humours, the household would gather round him, protesting that he was the cleverest and most adroit fellow in the universe, and indeed the only man alive who could properly manage a lawsuit.
"I have said it a thousand times on my knees," quoth the Juggler on such occasions, "that our revered master, Squire Bull, never had so acute a servant as the excellent Mr Protocol. Show me the man like him for finding out points in which the honour of Bullockshatch is concerned! I declare I am as proud of him as if he were my own father."
And then they would all join in a general chorus of flattery and adulation, and request their esteemed friend and colleague, Protocol, just to step into his closet and look over the county map, lest there should be any case of a doubtful boundary which might be disputed, or at all events to write a few letters to the neighbouring squires, telling them what he, Protocol, thought of their general management. At this, Protocol would begin to look less grim, and finally retire with a wink, as much as to say—"Aha! my masters—wait here for a little, and you shall see somewhat." And in half-an-hour he would return, carrying a map all ruled over with red and blue lines, and a bundle of old surveys, from which he would pledge his credit to establish the fact in any court of Christendom, that Squire Bull had been swindled out of at least three perches of unproductive land, in a division of common lands which was made a hundred years before. The other members of the household were but too happy to see him occupied again, without caring whether he was right or wrong; and to work went Protocol, as merry as a cricket, writing letters without end, docketing notes, and making-believe as though he had the weight of the whole world on his shoulders.
You may easily conceive that this kind of conduct, though it suited the convenience of the Juggler and his friends, was exceedingly odious to the neighbouring squires, who were not allowed to eat their meals in comfort without being disturbed by Protocol. One day he sent a messenger to Esquire Strutt, as if from Squire Bull, calling his attention to certain arrangements in his household, which, he said, ought to be modified; whereupon Strutt, who was proverbially as proud as a peacock, flew into a violent passion, warned the messenger off his estate, and sent back such an answer to Protocol as made his ears tingle for a fortnight. Then, whenever any of the squires happened to have a dispute among themselves, originating from a drinking-bout or a cock-fight, Protocol would instantly write to them, tendering his good offices and mediation, which offer they, warned by experience, were usually wise enough to decline. In fact, these absurd doings of Protocol brought Squire Bull at length into such discredit with his neighbours, that there was nothing on earth which they dreaded so much as his interference.
Protocol was in one of his worst humours when Mat-o'-the-Mint returned. Everything had gone wrong with him in the south. Don Vesuvius had settled his affairs, clean contrary to the wish of Protocol. Don Ferdinando had got all he wanted, simply by acting in a manner directly opposite to his advice. Signor Tureen, whom he favoured, had been worsted in a lawsuit which he recommended, and was saddled with enormous costs. Peter, with whom he was bent on currying favour, had been kicked out of his patrimony, and Protocol had not even the dubious credit of fetching him back, that having been accomplished by young Nap. Altogether he had made a precious mess of it; and many people, both in the upper and under-servants' hall at Bullockshatch, began to insinuate that, after all, Master Protocol was no better than a bungler. All this tended to exasperate him to the utmost.
"It is a devilish hard thing," he remarked to himself one day, as he sat in the midst of his maps and correspondence—"It is a devilish hard thing that I can't find any men of talent to carry my designs into execution! There is scarcely a messenger in my whole department who can bamboozle a toll-keeper, much less throw dust in the eyes of a ground-steward. The Squire will no doubt make an hideous outcry about this unconscionable bill of expenses which Mat-o'-the-Mint has run up; and heaven only knows how far he may have compromised my credit. Catch me allowing him to go out again on any errand of the kind! Never, since I first nibbed a pen, were matters in such a mess! I really must do something for the sake of my own character. But then the puzzle is with whom to begin. I won't have anything more to do with Jonathan, that's flat. I dare not meddle further in anything which concerns Esquire North, for he is beginning to growl already, like a bear as he is, and Copenhagen is under his protection. It would be a dangerous game to have anything to say at present either to Colonel Martinet or Don Ferdinando; and, as for the South, why, I have been already checkmated there. Ha! an idea strikes me! Didn't I get several letters lately from a relation of Moses, complaining that he had suffered some damage in a street-row after dining with young Squire Otho? And, now I think of it, Squire Otho owes us some five or six pounds of interest on a bond which he granted to Bull, and he is behindhand with the arrears. And, as I live, here's another letter, which I threw aside at the time, telling me that Cheeks the marine, who is in John's pay, was taken up one night to the watch-house by a constable of Otho's, on a charge of being drunk and disorderly! Altogether, it is a capital case; and as those barges which I sent along the canal to frighten Don Vesuvius are still lying thereabouts, I'll even desire them to stop in front of Otho's house, and demand immediate satisfaction."
This Otho was a young lad, who had been put in possession of his property with the full consent and assistance of Squire Bull. It was a little, rocky, dilapidated place, with more ruins upon it than cottages, and for many years had been entirely overrun by gipsies. Long ago, before the other estates in the country were brought into proper cultivation, it was reckoned of some importance; and its proprietors were said to have held their heads as high as O'Donoghue of the Lakes, or Malachi of the golden collar. But all that was matter of tradition. It was difficult to understand why Squire Bull should have troubled himself about it, except it was for this reason, that he had taken possession of one or two small islands in a lake adjoining the property, which were well adapted for the culture of currants; and which, when he broke them up, were understood to belong to nobody. However, wishing to see the gipsies, who were a troublesome race, expelled, he agreed to settle Otho in this unprofitable estate, and lent the poor lad a trifle, just by way of keeping his head above water at starting.
The villagers—for tenantry Otho had almost none—were, on the whole, an inoffensive race. They were said to be infernal cheats and liars; but as they only lied and cheated amongst themselves, that did not much signify. They had a great respect for Bull, were very civil and obsequious to any of his people who passed that way, and would as soon have encountered a goblin in the churchyard, as have picked a quarrel with any of them. Otho was, I suppose, by much the poorest squire in all the country round. His rental, nominally small, was in reality next to nothing; and it was supposed that he had a hard struggle to make ends meet. Such was the victim whom Protocol selected, in order to enhance his individual glory and renown.