Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Volume 69, No. 424, February 1851

Martin had a son, who in due time was appointed his curate, and had a chapel to himself. This young, man, whose name was Augustine, was by no means so discreet a person as his father. He was of a moping and melancholy habit, very much addicted to the study of architecture, which he carried to such an excess that you could not be five minutes in his company without hearing him discourse about mullions, brackets, architraves, and flying buttresses, in a way that would have bewildered a stone mason. He got his chapel fitted up in such a style that it exactly resembled one of Peter's; and this he did, as he openly avowed, from a regard to the customs of antiquity. When Martin was told of this, he shook his head, caught up his walking cane, and stepped over to the chapel, where he found Augustine superintending the erection of a new oriel window, the design of which was gorgeous enough to eclipse the glories of the most brilliant butterfly of Brazil.

"What's here to do?" quoth Martin, walking up the chancel. "Mighty handsome this, son Augustine, to be sure; but – don't it strike you that the effect is a little too Peterish? Mind, I do not object in the least to your making the chapel neat and tidy. I never thought, as brother Jack used to do, (though he is now becoming more sensible on those points,) that a church ought as nearly as possible to resemble a barn. On the contrary, I like to see everything in its proper place. But what's this?" continued he, tapping with his cane a kind of ornamented basin with a slab. "I don't remember ever having seen any thing of this kind before."

"Indeed, sir!" replied Augustine; "you surprise me very much. I thought everyone must be acquainted with the Piscina and Finistella. Those, I can assure you, are accurate copies from ancient drawings of the church of Saint Ethelred, which was burned by the Danes about the beginning of the tenth century."

"That may be," quoth Martin, "but I can't for the life of me see the use of them now. And what may you call this?"

"That, sir? Why, that's the credence table. There is a splendid specimen of that style of architecture in the cathedral remains of St Ninian."

"And that carved wood-work up there near the gallery?"

"That, sir, is the rood-loft, constructed on mediæval principles, after the designs of Hubert the Confessor."

"I'll tell you what it is, son Augustine," said Martin, "all this is very pretty; and if you and your people wish to have it, there may be no positive reason why I should interfere. Thank heaven, sound doctrine does not depend upon stone and lime; and so long as your principles are firm, it may not matter much that you are a little absurd or so about this architectural hobby of yours. But, mark me well, my dear boy," continued the good gentleman, with tears in his eyes; "no trafficking or colleaguing with Peter! That old miscreant has ever been a bitter enemy of me and mine, and of the Squire to boot; and if it should come to pass that my own flesh and blood were to desert me for that impious rascal, I would be fain to carry my grey hairs in sorrow to the grave! Think well of this, I beseech you, and on no account whatever have anything to say to that arch-deceiver!"

You might reasonably suppose that Augustine was much moved by this remonstrance. Not a whit of it. He was much too conceited to take counsel from any one; and in his secret heart began to look upon his father as no better than an uncharitable bigot.

"Holy Saint Pancras!" he would say, for he had a queer habit of invoking the names of dead people, "what can it matter to any one whether I bow to my uncle Peter or not? People tell me I am rather like him in complexion; and I daresay, after all, there is a strong family resemblance. What have I to do with old family feuds, which had far better be forgotten? As to the nine-and-thirty points of doctrine to which I have set my name, some of them may be good, and others heterodox; but I presume I am not compelled to accept them in the literal sense. Why should they be made a stumbling-block in the way of a proper reconciliation between myself and my uncle, who no doubt has fallen into questionable practices, though in the main he is quite as like to be right as my father Martin?"

Augustine, however, did not venture to hold this kind of talk openly for some time, knowing that, if it came to the ears of Martin, he would inevitably be disinherited on the spot, and turned out of his cure. In the discourses which he delivered from the pulpit, he was wont to express great sorrow and anxiety for the backslidings of his "venerable relative," as he now termed Peter, "towards whom his bowels yearned with an almost unspeakable affection. It would ill become him to forget what Peter had done for the family long ago, and indeed for the whole of Bullockshatch; and although he was now, no doubt, cast out for his sins, he, Augustine, could not prevail upon himself to speak harshly of a gentleman who had such excellent grounds for styling himself the head of the whole house." Then he would go on to insinuate that there were two sides to every question – that his own father Martin might possibly have behaved more roughly to Peter than there was any occasion for – and that Peter had many good points about him for which he did not receive sufficient credit. Having thus talked over his congregation, who were willing enough to go along with him a certain length, he began in public to wear a dress as nearly approaching to that of Peter's retainers as he durst. He turned his back upon people, just as the others did, and dressed up the charity-boys in white gowns, to look, as he said, like acolytes. One, winter's morning, when the parishioners arrived at church, they were petrified at seeing two huge candlesticks placed upon the table, such articles of furniture having been for a long time disused in the churches throughout Bullockshatch. Augustine, however, had discovered from some old musty pamphlet that they were not strictly forbidden; so he got a pair of new ones made, (after the mediæval fashion, of course,) and preached a long sermon for the purpose of demonstrating their advantages and mystical meaning. Three Sundays afterwards, the weather being rather dark and hazy, they were fitted with lighted wax-candles; and Augustine, having once got so far, took care that this pious practice should not be discontinued even in the height of summer. Another Sunday he would put himself at the head of the charity-boys, and walk through the church in procession, bowing and making genuflexions in evident imitation of Peter; and at last the poor young man was so far left to himself, that he would not read the service properly, but twanged it through his nose in a kind of sing-song fashion, which he called intoning, but which had simply this effect, that nobody was able to follow the meaning of the words.

These things were, as you may suppose, very annoying to Martin, who, over and over again, entreated him to take care what he was doing. But, in answer to every remonstrance, Augustine would whip out the musty pamphlet aforesaid, lay it open before his father, and request him to point out any special clause condemnatory of the practices which he followed. "If such a clause exists," quoth he, "I knock under, as in duty bound. If not, I apprehend that I am merely pursuing a course which has been sanctioned from all antiquity." Martin tried to convince him that a great many things might be wrong, or at all events injudicious, which were not actually expressly set down as forbidden; but no argument would avail with Augustine, who said he was determined to stand by the rubric, and, moreover, to interpret that rubric according to his own lights and inspiration.

This was bad enough. However, had it been all, no great mischief might have ensued. But curious stories became current presently regarding Augustine's walk and conversation. It was said that he was in the habit of holding secret colloquies for hours with the Bishop of Timbuctoo and others, notorious emissaries of Peter; that he wore hair cloth under his shirt, kept vigils and fasts, and had an oratory fitted up in his bedroom – with crucifixes and I wot not what, clean contrary to the commands of Martin. This much is certain, that he framed a callendar of his own out of some of the books from Peter's discarded library, and never wrote to his broker to buy him some shares in a railway, or to his grocer for a fresh supply of split-peas, without dating his note "Festival of Saint Balderdash," or "Eve of Saint Rowena, V. and M.," instead of specifying the day of the month, like an ordinary orthodox Christian. Then there were rumours current about private confessions, to which the young ladies, among whom Augustine (being unmarried) was always a favourite, were invited; of pilgrimages to holy wells; and of other similar junketings – which made many people look upon Augustine as no better than an innocent Peter. And they were perfectly right. He was innocent of any bad design, and I really believe as virtuous a creature as ever breathed. He was kind to the poor, and would any day have given half his stipend for their assistance and relief. But he was weak in intellect, puffed up with vanity, obstinate as a team of mules, and credulous to the last degree.

Novelties, as we all know, have a prodigious attraction for many people. In point of plain sense and doctrine, there was no manner of comparison between Martin and his son. If you wished for nothing more than devotional exercise, and an excellent sermon, you might search the world over without finding the equal of Martin. But if your tastes led you to indulge in qualified Peterisms, or to listen to revivals of antiquated notions, Augustine was your man. A great many people, and among others the Juggler, were vastly tickled by Augustine's newfangled methods. They could not enough admire his ingenuity in volunteering to fight Peter with his own weapons; and they were ready, whenever he wished it, to contribute their money towards the expenses of festivals, or anything else which Augustine might choose to recommend. Even the Juggler, though fond of his cash, gave something towards the continuance of these ceremonies – a fact which you will do well to bear in mind when you come to read some of the later passages of this history.

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.

Down came the barges across the lake in front of Otho's house, each of them crammed full of watchmen, marines, and bargees, wearing Squire Bull's livery. Upon this, Otho, supposing that the visit was made in compliment to himself, and little dreaming that he had provoked the enmity of so powerful a personage as Protocol, put on his best coat and hat, and was just stepping down to the quay, when, to his amazement, a writ was served upon him at the instance of Squire Bull.

"What's this?" he said, unfolding the document, – "'Account of loss sustained by Mr Shylock, naturalised servant of Squire Bull. – Magnificent furniture, L.90, 6s. 8d. Do. China, L.49, 3s. 8-1/4d. Inestimable jewellery, L.505. Disturbance of mind, L.70, 10s. Medical attendance for subsequent dysentery, L.13, 13s.' Good heavens! is Esquire Bull mad? Shylock? Why, that's the fellow who has been bothering me for a year past about some broken crockery, and a fractured camp-stool! And what may this other paper be? 'Compensation to Mr William Cheeks, marine, for unlawful detention of his person, and injury to his character, he having been apprehended as drunk and disorderly, L.300! Why, the man was discharged next morning with a simple reprimand from the magistrate! But here's a third – 'Amercement for injury done to Dimitri Palikaros, and Odysseus Cosmokapeleion, inhabitants of the currant islands, under the protection of John Bull, Esquire, they having been disturbed in their indefeasible right of sleeping in the open air, and forcibly conducted to the watch-house, L.50.' Oh, it must be a joke! Squire Bull cannot be in earnest!"

But poor Otho was very soon made to understand that it was no joke at all, but a devilish serious matter. He received a peremptory intimation from Protocol's messenger, who was on board one of the barges, that he must pay the whole of the demands made without demurring, within four-and-twenty hours, otherwise he should be under the disagreeable necessity of laying an execution on his house; and moreover, that, until this was done, all the boats at the quay would be laid under embargo. In vain did Otho remonstrate against this flagrant injustice, and offer to submit the case to any squire in Christendom. Protocol's man had special orders, and would not abate a jot. Not a soul was allowed to go out and fish on the lake, though the livelihood of many depended on it. Nay, he had the inhumanity to seize some cargoes of fresh beef, vegetables, and other perishable articles which were intended for the supply of the villagers, and to keep them rotting in the sun, until Otho should pay the whole amount of the demand.

A more flagrant case was probably never known. In all human probability, twenty shillings would have covered the whole extent of the losses sustained by Shylock; and as for Bill Cheeks, and the two other fellows with unpronounceable names, it was clear that the police magistrate had only let them off too cheap. But there was more than this. Otho was also told that the time had come for the settlement of his arrears, and that he must, moreover, cede to Squire Bull two islets, or rather rocks, in the lake, on which his fishermen were used to dry their nets, these not being expressly marked as his in a map in the possession of Protocol! You may easily conceive that the poor lad was driven to his wit's end by these tyrannical proceedings.

"I never would have believed this of Squire Bull!" cried he. "I always thought him to be a generous, frank, open-minded gentleman, with a soul above pettifogging; and one who would not be hard upon a debtor. Esquire North would not have behaved to me in this way – no, nor would any other of my neighbours. And I won't believe, even yet, that it is the wish of the Squire to deal so hardly with a poor lad, who has not had time to set himself right with the world. It must be Protocol's, doing; though why he should use me so, since I never gave him any offence that I know of, passes my understanding. However, I'll write to the Baboonery, and learn what young Nap thinks of the matter."

He could not have done a wiser thing. Nap thought, as every one else did, that the proceedings of Protocol were not only shabby and un-neighbour-like, but clearly Jewish and unprincipled. Accordingly, he took up the cudgels for Otho, declaring that he could not see a poor young fellow, who was rather out at the elbows, though from no fault of his, treated in this abominable fashion; and the clerk to whom he gave the charge of the correspondence, being a plain, straightforward, knock-me-down sort of character, who had no patience for diplomatic palaver, very soon convinced Protocol that he was like to have the worst of it. After a good deal of correspondence, conducted in a way which was the reverse of creditable to Squire Bull's establishment, a compromise was effected; and Protocol seemed to think that he had at last achieved a triumph. But the contrary was the case: for the people of Bullockshatch, and the Squire himself, were mightily ashamed of the use which had been made of his name in this disreputable transaction. The upper servants, at a general meeting, voted it a dirty and undignified transaction, and declared that they washed their hands, henceforward, of all participation in the tricks and pantalooneries of Protocol. This necessitated a call of the under-servants; when the Juggler arose, and with real tears in his eyes, (for his wages depended upon the issue of the vote,) declared that he believed from the bottom of his heart, that a nobler or more disinterested individual than his honourable friend Protocol never broke bread, &c. &c., and that he, the Juggler, was ready to lay down the last drop of his blood for the honour of Esquire Bull, &c.; – a sacrifice which was the more creditable, as nobody thought of demanding it. By dint of promise of advancement in the household, he persuaded divers of the servants, especially one Caustic, to speak strongly in favour of Protocol; but the odds are, that he never would have carried the vote but for the dexterity of Protocol himself. That veteran sinner was worth, in point of ability, the whole of his colleagues put together. He had a tongue that could wile a bird off a tree; and the most extraordinary thing about him, next to his fondness for getting into scrapes, was the facility with which he got out of them. He favoured his audience with a sketch of the services which he had rendered to Squire Bull, showing that in everything he had done, he had the honour of Bullockshatch at heart; and by cantering over some portions of his story where the ground was rather dubious, sliding over others, and making a prodigious prancing where his footing was tolerably firm, he managed to persuade the majority of the servants that he really was a well-meaning individual, and that they were bound at all events to overlook this last escapade about Otho, which no one who had an atom of conscience could pretend absolutely to justify.

Protocol was in high feather in consequence of this whitewashing; the more so, that at one time it appeared very doubtful if even the under servants could be induced to support him. He and some of his chums had a dinner and drink afterwards at a servants' club to which they belonged, where Proto. made another speech, boasting that so long as he lived, no man born on Squire Bull's estate should be insulted by any neighbouring proprietor, or be laid in the stocks, or be hustled in a village, without receiving ample damages. All this sounded very well, though it certainly looked like holding out a premium to poaching; but it so happened, that a short time afterwards an old gentleman of the name of Marshall, who was in Don Ferdinando's service, and who had been mainly instrumental in reinstating him in his house, after it was broken into by the rabble as I have already told you, came over to Bullockshatch on a holiday jaunt. Marshall's policy through life had always been to return a buffet for a blow; and, as the fellows who created the uproar on Ferdinando's estate were no more to be reasoned with than so many wild Indians, whom indeed they resembled in their devilish practices of stabbing, tomahawking, ravishing, and roasting alive, he was by no means scrupulous in his method of putting them down. Some of the insurgents, who had fled to Bullockshatch, had succeeded, by dint of unmitigated lying, in getting up a strong feeling among the villagers against Marshall, whom they represented as a man-eating tiger, with so debauched a digestion, that he could not sleep at night unless he had previously supped upon a child. The people of Bullockshatch were exceedingly credulous upon such points, for it is on record that about a hundred years before, when poor Donald, as kindly a creature as ever fasted on oatmeal, came down from the hills, the children were sent into the coal-cellar, lest haply the sight of a plump one might whet his uncivilised appetite. Be that as it may, a general impression had gone abroad that Marshall was no better than a cannibal; and during the short while he remained in Bullockshatch, not a nursery-maid was allowed to take the usual airing in the streets.

But he did not remain long. Spies were set upon him; and one day when he took a fancy to look into a brewery, just by way of seeing how the beer was made, he was assailed by a whole gang of ragamuffins, who cursed, kicked, cuffed, and spat upon him, tore off his moustaches, damned him for a persecuting foreigneering scoundrel, and would probably have murdered him, had he not, by great good luck, escaped into a pot-house hard by. Even then he was hardly safe, for the mob tried to gut the premises. You may be sure that, after experiencing this treatment, Marshall did not remain long in Bullockshatch; in fact, he took himself off next morning, protesting that he would rather sojourn among the Hottentots, than be exposed to such treatment at the hands of a civilised community. So far as he was concerned, he wished to take no farther notice of the matter; but the household of Don Ferdinando, considering this a direct insult to themselves and their master, desired the head-steward to write to Protocol, demanding immediate satisfaction. This was an awkward thrust; for, if Protocol was entitled to insist on compensation from Otho, for the injuries done by his people to Bill Cheeks, Shylock, and Cosmokapeleion, it was evident that, on the same principle, Ferdinando's steward had a right to sue Squire Bull for the injury and damages inflicted upon Marshall. Proto., however, refused pointblank to give any satisfaction, or to do anything at all in the matter; whereupon Ferdinando's steward gave him due notice, that in all time coming he should consider himself and his master relieved from all responsibility, if any of Squire Bull's people should happen to be tarred and feathered when straying beyond bounds. What was even more unpleasant, Esquire North sent him notice to the same effect; and North was not a man likely to be worse than his word.

I have thought it right to tell ye these things just now, in order that you may understand Protocol's usual method of doing business. I must now relate to you a circumstance which threw the whole of Bullockshatch into a most awful quandary.

CHAPTER VII

HOW PETER CLAIMED SUPREMACY IN BULLOCKSHATCH – AND HOW THE JUGGLER THREW THE BLAME UPON AUGUSTINE

One morning after breakfast, Squire Bull, who was then mightily taken up with a glass warehouse, which some people had persuaded him to erect in his park, for the purpose of showing off his neighbours' wares in opposition to his own, called as usual for his newspaper.

"I half begin to think," quoth he, settling himself in his easy chair, and airing the broadsheet at the fire, "that I have been bubbled in this matter. What good this puffing and vaunting of other folk's commodities is to do to my villagers, I do not exactly see; and, as for the tenantry, they appear to be against it to a man. Besides, I have a strong suspicion that in the long run I shall have to pay the piper. However, let us see if anything is stirring abroad. – Eh! what's this? A letter from that miscreant Peter! Am I in my right senses?"

And, sure enough, in the most conspicuous part of the newspaper there appeared the following document: —

"We, Peter, Lord Paramount of the whole world, and Supreme Suzerain of the Squirearchy thereof, to all to whom these presents may come, Greeting. Know ye, that We, out of Our infinite condescension and mercy, and moved thereto by the love which We bear to Our subjects of Bullockshatch, have determined from henceforth, and in all time coming, to grant unto them such spiritual rights and privileges as We have accorded to others of Our subjects elsewhere. Also, for the end that Our loving subjects of Bullockshatch may the better accommodate themselves to Our Will in this matter, and render to us, through Our delegates, the homage which is justly Our due, We have resolved to divide and erect, as We do hereby divide and erect, the whole of Our territory of Bullockshatch into thirteen separate parishes, appointing thereunto for each a Superintendent, who shall henceforth, and in all time coming, derive his style and title from the parish to which he is appointed by Us; and We command, require, and enjoin Our said loving subjects to render to Our said Superintendents all obedience and fealty, as they shall answer to Us thereupon. And in order that all things may be properly administered, We have appointed Our dearly beloved Nicholas, formerly Superintendent of Hippopotamus, to be our Arch-Superintendent on Our estate of Bullockshatch, with the title and designation of Lord Arch-Superintendent of Smithfield, granting to him all the rights of coal, fuel, faggot, turf, twig, and combustibles which were formerly enjoyed by any of his predecessors in office. And as a token of their gratitude for this Our unparalleled condescension and mercy, We ordain and require that Our loving subjects of Bullockshatch shall each and all of them attend and assist at three solemn masses, to be performed for the soul of the late Guido Fawkes, Esquire, of happy memory. And We declare this to be a public and irrevocable decree.

    (Signed) Peter."

Language is inadequate to express the paroxysm of wrath into which Squire Bull was thrown by the perusal of this insolent document! He foamed at the mouth, kicked over the breakfast table, dashed the newspaper on the carpet, and tore down the bell-rope.

"He the Lord Paramount of Bullockshatch, the lying old villain that he is! He pretend to jurisdiction within my estate! But I'll trounce him! Ho, there! Who's without? Fetch me here the Juggler instantly! Body of me, that it should ever have come to this! These are the thanks I get from the ungrateful old he-goat for having taken some of his people into my service, and persuaded my tenantry, sorely against their will, to make an annual allowance for that school of his, which is no better than a nest of Jesuits! If I don't make the viper feel – So, so! Master Juggler, you are there, are you? Things have come to a pretty pass, when I can't take up a newspaper, without finding myself openly insulted, and my rights of property denied!"

Now, be it known to you that the Juggler was anything but comfortable in his mind. He was fully conscious that he had been imposed on by Peter; and, further, that he and his associates had done everything in their power to back up Peter's pretensions. This they did less out of hatred to Martin (though they bore him no great love) than from a desire to ingratiate themselves with some of the under servants who came from the farm over the pond, and were known adherents of Peter. But from one thing to another, they had gone so far, as we have already seen, relaxing and abolishing all the old regulations of the estate against the interference of Peter, that it really seemed as though he had only to step in and take possession. Further, the Juggler was somewhat at a loss to know how he could satisfactorily explain the nature of the mission upon which his relative, Mat-o'-the-Mint, had been despatched; besides some other little circumstances which looked confoundedly suspicious. For example, about a year before, one Dicky Squeal, a notorious Peterite, had been detected tampering with the dies from which Squire Bull's tokens were struck, and cutting out certain letters which were understood to signify that Mr Bull held possession of his estate altogether independent of Peter. Instead of punishing him for this, the Juggler had just announced his intention of sending Dicky Squeal on a second mission to Signor Macaroni's estate, where he might be within earshot of Peter. Altogether, it is no wonder if the Juggler felt the reverse of happy when summoned to appear before his master. However, he was resolved to brazen it out as he best could.

"Insulted, did you say, sir; and your rights of property denied? The thing is clean impossible! Nobody dares insult my noble master – the most excellent, kind, hospitable, beneficent landlord that ever kept open house! O sir, if you but knew the depth of my affection – the almost overwhelming load, as I may say, of love and regard – "

"Come, come, Master Juggler! quoth the Squire sharply, "I've heard all that palaver before, and mayhap once too often. You ask who has insulted me – I'll tell you in four words – that unmitigated rascal, Peter!

"Peter! alackaday!" replied the Juggler, with an affected whine of consternation. "Is it possible that he can have been left so far to his own devices! Surely, surely, my dear master, there must be some mistake in this."

"No mistake at all!" roared the Squire; "and, what is more, there shall be no mistake about it. Look here – " continued he, pointing out the paragraph. "Have you read that?"

The Juggler had done so, every word of it, that blessed morning; but as he wished to gain time, he adjusted his glasses, and began to con it over with an appearance of intense interest. Meanwhile the Squire occupied himself in tying knots on a new lash for his hunting-whip.

"Well, what do you say to that now?" quoth he, when the Juggler had concluded the perusal.