Books: The History of John Bull
J >>
John Arbuthnot >> The History of John Bull
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 | 4 |
5 |
6 |
7 |
8 |
9
What answer Mrs. Bull returned to this letter you shall know in my
second part, only they were at a pretty good distance in their
proposals; for as Esquire South only offered to be at the charges of
pen, ink, and paper, Mrs. Bull refused any more than to lend her
barge* to carry his counsel to Westminster Hall.
* Sending the English Fleet to convoy the forces to Barcelona.
PART II.
THE PUBLISHER'S PREFACE.
The world is much indebted to the famous Sir Humphry Polesworth for
his ingenious and impartial account of John Bull's lawsuit. Yet
there is just cause of complaint against him, in that he relates it
only by parcels, and won't give us the whole work. This forces me,
who am only the publisher, to bespeak the assistance of his friends
and acquaintance to engage him to lay aside that stingey humour and
gratify the curiosity of the public at once. He pleads in excuse
that they are only private memoirs, wrote for his own use in a loose
style to serve as a help to his ordinary conversation. I
represented to him the good reception the first part had met with;
that, though calculated only for the meridian of Grub Street, it was
yet taken notice of by the better sort; that the world was now
sufficiently acquainted with John Bull, and interested itself in his
concerns. He answered with a smile, that he had, indeed, some
trifling things to impart that concerned John Bull's relations and
domestic affairs. If these would satisfy me he gave me free leave
to make use of them, because they would serve to make the history of
the lawsuit more intelligible. When I had looked over the
manuscript I found likewise some further account of the composition,
which, perhaps, may not be unacceptable to such as have read the
former part.
CHAPTER I. The Character of John Bull's Mother.*
* The Church of England.
John had a mother whom he loved and honoured extremely, a discreet,
grave, sober, good-conditioned, cleanly old gentlewoman as ever
lived. She was none of your cross-grained, termagant, scolding
jades that one had as good be hanged as live in the house with, such
as are always censuring the conduct and telling scandalous stories
of their neighbours, extolling their own good qualities and
undervaluing those of others. On the contrary, she was of a meek
spirit, and, as she was strictly virtuous herself, so she always put
the best construction upon the words and actions of her neighbours,
except where they were irreconcileable to the rules of honesty and
decency. She was neither one of your precise prudes, nor one of
your fantastical old belles that dress themselves like girls of
fifteen; as she neither wore a ruff, forehead-cloth, nor
high-crowned hat, so she had laid aside feathers, flowers, and
crimpt ribbons in her head-dress, furbelow-scarfs, and
hooped-petticoats. She scorned to patch and paint, yet she loved to
keep her hands and her face clean. Though she wore no flaunting
laced ruffles, she would not keep herself in a constant sweat with
greasy flannel. Though her hair was not stuck with jewels, she was
not ashamed of a diamond cross; she was not, like some ladies, hung
about with toys and trinkets, tweezer-cases, pocket-glasses, and
essence-bottles; she used only a gold watch and an almanack to mark
the hours and the holy days.
Her furniture was neat and genteel, well fancied with a bon gout.
As she affected not the grandeur of a state with a canopy, she
thought there was no offence in an elbow-chair. She had laid aside
your carving, gilding, and Japan work as being too apt to gather
dirt. But she never could be prevailed upon to part with plain
wainscot and clean hangings. There are some ladies that affect to
smell a stink in everything; they are always highly perfumed, and
continually burning frankincense in their rooms. She was above such
affectation, yet she never would lay aside the use of brooms and
scrubbing-brushes, and scrupled not to lay her linen in fresh
lavender.
She was no less genteel in her behaviour, well-bred, without
affectation; in the due mean between one of your affected,
curtseying pieces of formality and your romps that have no regard to
the common rules of civility. There are some ladies that affect a
mighty regard for their relations. "We must not eat to-day, for my
uncle Tom, or my cousin Betty, died this time ten years. Let's have
a ball to-night, it is my neighbour Such-a-one's birthday." She
looked upon all this as grimace, yet she constantly observed her
husband's birthday, her wedding-day, and some few more.
Though she was a truly good woman, and had a sincere motherly love
for her son John, yet there wanted not those who endeavoured to
create a misunderstanding between them, and they had so far
prevailed with him once that he turned her out of doors, to his
great sorrow, as he found afterwards, for his affairs went on at
sixes and sevens.
She was no less judicious in the turn of her conversation and choice
of her studies, in which she far exceeded all her sex. Your rakes
that hate the company of all sober, grave gentlewomen would bear
hers, and she would, by her handsome manner of proceeding, sooner
reclaim than some that were more sour and reserved. She was a
zealous preacher up of conjugal fidelity in wives, and by no means a
friend to the new-fangled doctrine of the indispensable duty of
change. Though she advanced her opinions with a becoming assurance,
yet she never ushered them in as some positive creatures will do,
with dogmatical assertions. "This is infallible; I cannot be
mistaken; none but a rogue can deny it." It has been observed that
such people are oftener in the wrong than anybody.
Though she had a thousand good qualities, she was not without her
faults, amongst which one might, perhaps, reckon too great lenity to
her servants, to whom she always gave good counsel, but often too
gentle correction. I thought I could not say less of John Bull's
mother, because she bears a part in the following transactions.
CHAPTER II. The Character of John Bull's Sister Peg,* with the
Quarrels that happened between Master and Miss in their Childhood.
* The nation and Church of Scotland.
John had a sister, a poor girl that had been starved at nurse.
Anybody would have guessed Miss to have been bred up under the
influence of a cruel stepdame, and John to be the fondling of a
tender mother. John looked ruddy and plump, with a pair of cheeks
like a trumpeter; Miss looked pale and wan, as if she had the green
sickness; and no wonder, for John was the darling: he had all the
good bits, was crammed with good pullet, chicken, pig, goose, and
capon; while Miss had only a little oatmeal and water, or a dry
crust without butter. John had his golden pippins, peaches, and
nectarines; poor Miss, a crab-apple, sloe, or a blackberry. Master
lay in the best apartment, with his bedchamber towards the south
sun. Miss lodged in a garret exposed to the north wind, which
shrivelled her countenance. However, this usage, though it stunted
the girl in her growth, gave her a hardy constitution; she had life
and spirit in abundance, and knew when she was ill-used. Now and
then she would seize upon John's commons, snatch a leg of a pullet,
or a bit of good beef, for which they were sure to go to fisticuffs.
Master was indeed too strong for her, but Miss would not yield in
the least point; but even when Master had got her down, she would
scratch and bite like a tiger; when he gave her a cuff on the ear,
she would prick him with her knitting-needle. John brought a great
chain one day to tie her to the bedpost, for which affront Miss
aimed a penknife at his heart. In short, these quarrels grew up to
rooted aversions; they gave one another nicknames, though the girl
was a tight clever wench as any was, and through her pale looks you
might discern spirit and vivacity, which made her not, indeed, a
perfect beauty, but something that was agreeable. It was barbarous
in parents not to take notice of these early quarrels, and make them
live better together, such domestic feuds proving afterwards the
occasion of misfortunes to them both. Peg had, indeed, some odd
humours* and comical antipathy, for which John would jeer her.
"What think you of my sister Peg," says he, "that faints at the
sound of an organ, and yet will dance and frisk at the noise of a
bagpipe?" "What's that to you?" quoth Peg. "Everybody's to choose
their own music." Then Peg had taken a fancy not to say her
Paternoster, which made people imagine strange things of her. Of
the three brothers that have made such a clutter in the world--Lord
Peter, Martin, and Jack--Jack had of late been her inclinations.
Lord Peter she detested, nor did Martin stand much better in her
good graces; but Jack had found the way to her heart. I have often
admired what charms she discovered in that awkward booby, till I
talked with a person that was acquainted with the intrigue, who gave
me the following account of it.
* Love of Presbytery.
CHAPTER III. Jack's Charms,* or the Method by which he gained Peg's
Heart.
* Character of the Presbyterians.
In the first place, Jack was a very young fellow, by much the
youngest of the three brothers, and people, indeed, wondered how
such a young upstart jackanapes should grow so pert and saucy, and
take so much upon him.
Jack bragged of greater abilities than other men. He was well
gifted, as he pretended: I need not tell you what secret influence
that has upon the ladies.
Jack had a most scandalous tongue, and persuaded Peg that all
mankind, besides himself, were plagued by that scarlet-faced woman,
Signiora Bubonia.* "As for his brother, Lord Peter, the tokens were
evident on him -- blotches and scabs. His brother Martin, though he
was not quite so bad, had some nocturnal pains, which his friends
pretended were only scorbutical; but he was sure it proceeded from a
worse cause." By such malicious insinuations he had possessed the
lady that he was the only man in the world of a sound, pure, and
untainted constitution, though there were some that stuck not to say
that Signiora Bubonia and Jack railed at one another only the better
to hide an intrigue, and that Jack had been found with Signiora
under his cloak, carrying her home on a dark stormy night.
* The Woman of Babylon, or the Pope.
Jack was a prodigious ogler; he would ogle you the outside of his
eye inward, and the white upward.
Jack gave himself out for a man of a great estate in the Fortunate
Islands, of which the sole property was vested in his person. By
this trick he cheated abundance of poor people of small sums,
pretending to make over plantations in the said islands; but when
the poor wretches came there with Jack's grant, they were beat,
mocked, and turned out of doors.
I told you that Peg was whimsical, and loved anything that was
particular. In that way Jack was her man, for he neither thought,
spoke, dressed, nor acted like other mortals. He was for your bold
strokes. He railed at fops, though he was himself the most affected
in the world; instead of the common fashion, he would visit his
mistress in a mourning-cloak, band, short cuffs, and a peaked beard.
He invented a way of coming into a room backwards, which he said
showed more humility and less affectation. Where other people
stood, he sat; where they sat, he stood; when he went to Court, he
used to kick away the state, and sit down by his prince cheek by
jowl. "Confound these states," says he, "they are a modern
invention." When he spoke to his prince, he always turned his back
upon him. If he was advised to fast for his health, he would eat
roast beef; if he was allowed a more plentiful diet, then he would
be sure that day to live upon water-gruel; he would cry at a
wedding, laugh and make jests at a funeral.
He was no less singular in his opinions. You would have burst your
sides to hear him talk of politics. "All government," says he, "is
founded upon the right distribution of punishments: decent
executions keep the world in awe; for that reason, the majority of
mankind ought to be hanged every year. For example, I suppose the
magistrate ought to pass an irreversible sentence upon all blue-eyed
children from the cradle; but that there may be some show of justice
in this proceeding, these children ought to be trained up by
masters, appointed for that purpose, to all sorts of villany, that
they may deserve their fate, and the execution of them may serve as
an object of terror to the rest of mankind."* As to the giving of
pardons, he had this singular method:** that when these wretches
had the rope about their necks, it should be inquired who believed
they should be hanged, and who not? The first were to be pardoned,
the last hanged outright. Such as were once pardoned were never to
be hanged afterwards for any crime whatsoever. He had such skill in
physiognomy, that he would pronounce peremptorily upon a man's face.
"That fellow," says he, "do what he will, can't avoid hanging; he
has a hanging look." By the same art he would prognosticate a
principality to a scoundrel.
* Absolute predestination and reprobation.
** Saving Faith: a belief that one shall certainly be saved.
He was no less particular in the choice of his studies; they were
generally bent towards exploded chimeras*--the perpetuum mobile, the
circular shot, philosopher's stone, silent gunpowder, making chains
for fleas, nets for flies, and instruments to unravel cobwebs and
split hairs.
* The learning of the Presbyterians.
Thus, I think, I have given a distinct account of the methods he
practised upon Peg. Her brother would now and then ask her, "What
dost thou see in that pragmatical coxcomb to make thee so in love
with him? He is a fit match for a tailor's or a shoemaker's
daughter, but not for you that are a gentlewoman?" "Fancy is free,"
quoth Peg; "I'll take my own way, do you take yours. I do not care
for your flaunting beaus, that gang with their breasts open, and
their sarks over their waistcoats, that accost me with set speeches
out of Sidney's 'Arcadia' or the 'Academy of Compliments.' Jack is
a sober, grave young man; though he has none of your studied
harangues, his meaning is sincere. He has a great regard to his
father's will, and he that shows himself a good son will make a good
husband. Besides, I know he has the original deed of conveyance to
the Fortunate Islands; the others are counterfeits." There is
nothing so obstinate as a young lady in her amours; the more you
cross her, the worse she is.
CHAPTER IV. How the relations reconciled John and his sister Peg,
and what return Peg made to John's message.*
* The Treaty of Union. Reason of it: the Succession not being
settled in Scotland. Fears for the Presbyterian Church Government,
and of being burdened with the English National Debts.
John Bull, otherwise a good-natured man, was very hard-hearted to
his sister Peg, chiefly from an aversion he had conceived in his
infancy. While he flourished, kept a warm house, and drove a
plentiful trade, poor Peg was forced to go hawking and peddling
about the streets selling knives, scissors, and shoe-buckles; now
and then carried a basket of fish to the market; sewed, spun, and
knit for a livelihood, till her fingers' ends were sore; and when
she could not get bread for her family, she was forced to hire them
out at journey-work to her neighbours. Yet in these her poor
circumstances she still preserved the air and mien of a gentlewoman-
-a certain decent pride that extorted respect from the haughtiest of
her neighbours. When she came in to any full assembly, she would
not yield the pas to the best of them. If one asked her, "Are not
you related to John Bull?" "Yes," says she, "he has the honour to
be my brother." So Peg's affairs went till all the relations cried
out shame upon John for his barbarous usage of his own flesh and
blood; that it was an easy matter for him to put her in a creditable
way of living, not only without hurt, but with advantage to himself,
seeing she was an industrious person, and might be serviceable to
him in his way of business. "Hang her, jade," quoth John, "I can't
endure her as long as she keeps that rascal Jack's company." They
told him the way to reclaim her was to take her into his house; that
by conversation the childish humours of their younger days might be
worn out. These arguments were enforced by a certain incident. It
happened that John was at that time about making his will* and
entailing his estate, the very same in which Nic. Frog is named
executor. Now, his sister Peg's name being in the entail, he could
not make a thorough settlement without her consent. There was,
indeed, a malicious story went about as if John's last wife had
fallen in love with Jack as he was eating custard on horseback;**
that she persuaded John to take his sister into the house the better
to drive on the intrigue with Jack, concluding he would follow his
mistress Peg. All I can infer from this story is that when one has
got a bad character in the world people will report and believe
anything of them, true or false. But to return to my story. When
Peg received John's message she huffed and stormed: "My brother
John," quoth she, "is grown wondrous kind-hearted all of a sudden,
but I meikle doubt whether it be not mair for their own conveniency
than for my good; he draws up his writs and his deeds, forsooth, and
I must set my hand to them, unsight, unseen. I like the young man
he has settled upon well enough, but I think I ought to have a
valuable consideration for my consent. He wants my poor little farm
because it makes a nook in his park-wall. Ye may e'en tell him he
has mair than he makes good use of; he gangs up and down drinking,
roaring, and quarrelling, through all the country markets, making
foolish bargains in his cups, which he repents when he is sober;
like a thriftless wretch, spending the goods and gear that his
forefathers won with the sweat of their brows: light come, light
go, he cares not a farthing. But why should I stand surety for his
contracts? The little I have is free, and I can call it my awn--
hame's hame, let it be never so hamely. I ken him well enough, he
could never abide me, and when he has his ends he'll e'en use me as
he did before. I'm sure I shall be treated like a poor drudge--I
shall be set to tend the bairns, darn the hose, and mend the linen.
Then there's no living with that old carline his mother; she rails
at Jack, and Jack's an honester man than any of her kin: I shall be
plagued with her spells and her Paternosters, and silly old world
ceremonies; I mun never pare my nails on a Friday, nor begin a
journey on Childermas Day; and I mun stand beeking and binging as I
gang out and into the hall. Tell him he may e'en gang his get; I'll
have nothing to do with him; I'll stay like the poor country mouse,
in my awn habitation." So Peg talked; but for all that, by the
interposition of good friends, and by many a bonny thing that was
sent, and many more that were promised Peg, the matter was
concluded, and Peg taken into the house upon certain articles:***
one of which was that she might have the freedom of Jack's
conversation, and might take him for better and for worse if she
pleased: provided always he did not come into the house at
unseasonable hours and disturb the rest of the old woman, John's
mother.
* The Act of Succession.
** A Presbyterian Lord Mayor.
*** The Act of Toleration.
CHAPTER V. Of some Quarrels that happened after Peg was taken into
the Family.*
*Quarrels about some of the Articles of Union, particularly the
peerage.
It is an old observation that the quarrels of relations are harder
to reconcile than any other; injuries from friends fret and gall
more, and the memory of them is not so easily obliterated. This is
cunningly represented by one of your old sages called Aesop, in the
story of the bird that was grieved extremely at being wounded with
an arrow feathered with his own wing; as also of the oak that let
many a heavy groan when he was cleft with a wedge of his own timber.
There was no man in the world less subject to rancour than John
Bull, considering how often his good nature has been abused; yet I
don't know but he was too apt to hearken to tattling people that
carry tales between him and his sister Peg, on purpose to sow
jealousies and set them together by the ears. They say that there
were some hardships put upon Peg which had been better let alone;
but it was the business of good people to restrain the injuries on
one side and moderate the resentments on the other--a good friend
acts both parts, the one without the other will not do.
The purchase-money of Peg's farm was ill paid;* then Peg loved a
little good liquor, and the servants shut up the wine-cellar; but
for that Peg found a trick, for she made a false key.** Peg's
servants complained that they were debarred from all manner of
business, and never suffered to touch the least thing within the
house; if they offered to come into the warehouse, then straight
went the yard slap over their noddle; if they ventured into the
counting-room a fellow would throw an ink-bottle at their head; if
they came into the best apartment to set anything there in order,
they were saluted with a broom; if they meddled with anything in the
kitchen it was odds but the cook laid them over the pate with a
ladle; one that would have got into the stables was met by two
rascals, who fell to work with him with a brush and a curry-comb;
some climbing up into the coachbox, were told that one of their
companions had been there before that could not drive, then slap
went the long whip about their ears.
* The equivalent not paid.
** Run wine.
On the other hand, it was complained that Peg's servants were always
asking for drink-money; that they had more than their share of the
Christmas-box.* To say the truth, Peg's lads bustled pretty hard
for that, for when they were endeavouring to lock it up they got in
their great fists and pulled out handfuls of halfcrowns, shillings,
and sixpences. Others in the scramble picked up guineas and
broad-pieces. But there happened a worse thing than all this: it
was complained that Peg's servants had great stomachs, and brought
so many of their friends and acquaintance to the table that John's
family was like to be eaten out of house and home. Instead of
regulating this matter as it ought to be, Peg's young men were
thrust away from the table; then there was the devil and all to do--
spoons, plates, and dishes flew about the room like mad, and Sir
Roger, who was now Majordomo, had enough to do to quiet them. Peg
said this was contrary to agreement, whereby she was in all things
to be treated like a child of the family. Then she called upon
those that had made her such fair promises, and undertook for her
brother John's good behaviour; but, alas! to her cost she found that
they were the first and readiest to do her the injury. John at last
agreed to this regulation: that Peg's footmen might sit with his
book-keeper, journeymen, and apprentices, and Peg's better sort of
servants might sit with his footmen if they pleased.**
* Endeavoured to get their share of places.
** Articles of Union, whereby they could make a Scot's commoner, but
not a lord a peer.
Then they began to order plum-porridge and minced pies for Peg's
dinner. Peg told them she had an aversion to that sort of food;
that upon forcing down a mess of it some years ago it threw her into
a fit till she brought it up again. Some alleged it was nothing but
humour, that the same mess should be served up again for supper, and
breakfast next morning; others would have made use of a horn, but
the wiser sort bid let her alone, and she might take to it of her
own accord.
CHAPTER VI. The conversation between John Bull and his wife.*
* The history of the Partition Treaty; suspicions at that time that
the French King intended to take the whole, and that he revealed the
secret to the Court of Spain.
MRS. BULL.--Though our affairs, honey, are in a bad condition, I
have a better opinion of them since you seemed to be convinced of
the ill course you have been in, and are resolved to submit to
proper remedies. But when I consider your immense debts, your
foolish bargains, and the general disorder of your business, I have
a curiosity to know what fate or chance has brought you into this
condition.
JOHN BULL.--I wish you would talk of some other subject, the
thoughts of it makes me mad; our family must have their run.
MRS. BULL.--But such a strange thing as this never happened to any
of your family before: they have had lawsuits, but, though they
spent the income, they never mortgaged the stock. Sure, you must
have some of the Norman or the Norfolk blood in you. Prithee, give
me some account of these matters.
JOHN BULL.--Who could help it? There lives not such a fellow by
bread as that old Lewis Baboon: he is the most cheating,
contentious rogue upon the face of the earth. You must know, one
day, as Nic. Frog and I were over a bottle making up an old quarrel,
the old fellow would needs have us drink a bottle of his champagne,
and so one after another, till my friend Nic. and I, not being used
to such heady stuff, got very drunk. Lewis all the while, either by
the strength of his brain or flinching his glass, kept himself sober
as a judge. "My worthy friends," quoth Lewis, "henceforth let us
live neighbourly; I am as peaceable and quiet as a lamb of my own
temper, but it has been my misfortune to live among quarrelsome
neighbours. There is but one thing can make us fall out, and that
is the inheritance of Lord Strutt's estate: I am content, for
peace' sake, to waive my right, and submit to any expedient to
prevent a lawsuit; I think an equal division* will be the fairest
way." "Well moved, Old Lewis," quoth Frog, "and I hope my friend
John here will not be refractory." At the same time he clapped me
on the back, and slabbered me all over from cheek to cheek with his
great tongue. "Do as you please, gentlemen," quoth I, "'tis all one
to John Bull." We agreed to part that night, and next morning to
meet at the corner of Lord Strutt's park wall, with our surveying
instruments, which accordingly we did. Old Lewis carried a chain
and a semicircle; Nic., paper, rulers, and a lead pencil; and I
followed at some distance with a long pole. We began first with
surveying the meadow grounds, afterwards we measured the cornfields,
close by close; then we proceeded to the woodlands, the copper and
tin mines.** All this while Nic. laid down everything exactly upon
paper, calculated the acres and roods to a great nicety. When we
had finished the land, we were going to break into the house and
gardens, to take an inventory of his plate, pictures, and other
furniture.
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 | 4 |
5 |
6 |
7 |
8 |
9