_Sandt_.--None, if you will consent that they direct the chase, bag the

game, inebriate some of the sportsmen, and leave the rest behind in the

slough. May I ask you another question?

_Kotzebue_.--Certainly.

_Sandt_.--Where lie the paths of wisdom? I did not expect, my dear sir

to throw you back upon your chair. I hope it was no rudeness to seek

information from you?

_Kotzebue_.--The paths of wisdom, young man, are those which lead us to

truth and happiness.

_Sandt_.--If they lead us away from fortune, from employments, from

civil and political utility; if they cast us where the powerful

persecute, where the rich trample us down, and where the poorer (at

seeing it) despise us, rejecting our counsel and spurning our

consolation, what valuable truth do they enable us to discover, or what

rational happiness to expect? To say that wisdom leads to truth, is only

to say that wisdom leads to wisdom; for such is truth. Nonsense is

better than falsehood; and we come to that.

_Kotzebue_.--How?

_Sandt_.--No falsehood is more palpable than that wisdom leads to

happiness--I mean in this world; in another, we may well indeed believe

that the words are constructed of very different materials. But here we

are, standing on a barren molehill that crumbles and sinks under our

tread; here we are, and show me from hence, Von Kotzebue, a discoverer

who has not suffered for his discovery, whether it be of a world or of a

truth--whether a Columbus or a Galileo. Let us come down lower: Show me

a man who has detected the injustice of a law, the absurdity of a tenet,

the malversation of a minister, or the impiety of a priest, and who has

not been stoned, or hanged, or burnt, or imprisoned, or exiled, or

reduced to poverty. The chain of Prometheus is hanging yet upon his

rock, and weaker limbs writhe daily in its rusty links. Who then, unless

for others, would be a darer of wisdom? And yet, how full of it is even

the inanimate world? We may gather it out of stones and straws. Much

lies within the reach of all: little has been collected by the wisest of

the wise. O slaves to passion! O minions to power! ye carry your own

scourges about you; ye endure their tortures daily; yet ye crouch for

more. Ye believe that God beholds you; ye know that he will punish you,

even worse than ye punish yourselves; and still ye lick the dust where

the Old Serpent went before you.

_Kotzebue_.--I am afraid, sir, you have formed to yourself a romantic

and strange idea, both of happiness and of wisdom.

_Sandt_.--I too am afraid it may be so. My idea of happiness is, the

power of communicating peace, good-will, gentle affections, ease,

comfort, independence, freedom, to all men capable of them.

_Kotzebue_.--The idea is, truly, no humble one.

_Sandt_.--A higher may descend more securely on a stronger mind. The

power of communicating those blessings to the capable, is enough for my

aspirations. A stronger mind may exercise its faculties in the divine

work of creating the capacity.

_Kotzebue_.--Childish! childish!--Men have cravings enow already; give

them fresh capacities, and they will have fresh appetites. Let us be

contented in the sphere wherein it is the will of Providence to place

us; and let us render ourselves useful in it to the utmost of our power,

without idle aspirations after impracticable good.

_Sandt_.--O sir! you lead me where I tremble to step; to the haunts of

your intellect, to the recesses of your spirit. Alas! alas! how small

and how vacant is the central chamber of the lofty pyramid?

_Kotzebue_.--Is this to me?

_Sandt_.--To you, and many mightier. Reverting to your own words; could

not you yourself have remained in the sphere you were placed in?

_Kotzebue_.--What sphere? I have written dramas, and novels, and

travels. I have been called to the Imperial Court of Russia.

_Sandt_.--You sought celebrity.--I blame not that. The thick air of

multitudes may be good for some constitutions of mind, as the thinner of

solitudes is for others. Some horses will not run without the clapping

of hands; others fly out of the course rather than hear it. But let us

come to the point. Imperial courts! What do they know of letters? What

letters do they countenance--do they tolerate?

_Kotzebue_.--Plays.

_Sandt_.--Playthings.

_Kotzebue_.--Travels.

_Sandt_.--On their business. O ye paviours of the dreary road along

which their cannon rolls for conquest! my blood throbs at every stroke

of your rammers. When will ye lay them by?

_Kotzebue_.--We are not such drudges.

_Sandt_.--Germans! Germans! Must ye never have a rood on earth ye can

call your own, in the vast inheritance of your fathers?

_Kotzebue_.--Those who strive and labour, gain it; and many have rich

possessions.

_Sandt_.--None; not the highest.

_Kotzebue_.--Perhaps you may think them insecure; but they are not lost

yet, although the rapacity of France does indeed threaten to swallow

them up. But her fraudulence is more to be apprehended than her force.

The promise of liberty is more formidable than the threat of servitude.

The wise know that she never will bring us freedom; the brave know that

she never can bring us thraldom. She herself is alike impatient of both;

in the dazzle of arms she mistakes the one for the other, and is never

more agitated than in the midst of peace.

_Sandt_.--The fools that went to war against her, did the only thing

that could unite her; and every sword they drew was a conductor of that

lightening which fell upon their heads. But we must now look at our

homes. Where there is no strict union, there is no perfect love; and

where no perfect love, there is no true helper. Are you satisfied, sir,

at the celebrity and the distinctions you have obtained?

_Kotzebue_.--My celebrity and distinctions, if I must speak of them,

quite satisfy me. Neither in youth nor in advancing age--neither in

difficult nor in easy circumstances, have I ventured to proclaim myself

the tutor or the guardian of mankind.

_Sandt_.--I understand the reproof, and receive it humbly and

gratefully. You did well in writing the dramas, and the novels, and the

travels; but, pardon my question, who called you to the courts of

princes in strange countries?

_Kotzebue_.--They themselves.

_Sandt_.--They have no more right to take you away from your country,

than to eradicate a forest, or to subvert a church in it. You belong to

the land that bore you, and were not at liberty--(if right and liberty

are one, and unless they are, they are good for nothing)--you were not

at liberty, I repeat it, to enter into the service of an alien.

_Kotzebue_.--No magistrate, higher or lower, forbade me. Fine notions of

freedom are these!

_Sandt_.--A man is always a minor in regard to his fatherland; and the

servants of his fatherland are wrong and criminal, if they whisper in

his ear that he may go away, that he may work in another country, that

he may ask to be fed in it, and that he may wait there until orders and

tasks are given for his hands to execute. Being a German, you

voluntarily placed yourself in a position where you might eventually be

coerced to act against Germans.

_Kotzebue_.--I would not.

_Sandt_.--Perhaps you think so.

_Kotzebue_.--Sir, I know my duty.

_Sandt_.--We all do; yet duties are transgressed, and daily. Where the

will is weak in accepting, it is weaker in resisting. Already have you

left the ranks of your fellow-citizens--already have you taken the

enlisting money and marched away.

_Kotzebue_.--Phrases! metaphors! and let me tell you, M. Sandt, not very

polite ones. You have hitherto seen little of the world, and you speak

rather the language of books than of men.

_Sandt_.--What! are books written by some creatures of less intellect

than ours? I fancied them to convey the language and reasonings of men.

I was wrong, and you are right, Von Kotzebue! They are, in general, the

productions of such as have neither the constancy of courage, nor the

continuity of sense, to act up to what they know to be right, or to

maintain it, even in words, to the end of their lives. You are aware

that I am speaking now of political ethics. This is the worst I can

think of the matter, and bad enough is this.

_Kotzebue_.--You misunderstand me. Our conduct must fall in with our

circumstances. We may be patriotic, yet not puritanical in our

patriotism, not harsh, nor intolerant, nor contracted. The philosophical

mind should consider the whole world as its habitation, and not look so

minutely into it as to see the lines that divide nations and

governments; much less should it act the part of a busy shrew, and take

pleasure in giving loose to the tongue, at finding things a little out

of place.

_Sandt_.--We will leave the shrew where we find her: she certainly is

better with the comedian than with the philosopher. But this

indistinctness in the moral and political line begets indifference. He

who does not keep his own country more closely in view than any other,

soon mixes land with sea, and sea with air, and loses sight of every

thing, at least, for which he was placed in contact with his fellow men.

Let us unite, if possible, with the nearest: Let usages and

familiarities bind us: this being once accomplished, let us confederate

for security and peace with all the people round, particularly with

people of the same language, laws, and religion. We pour out wine to

those about us, wishing the same fellowship and conviviality to others:

but to enlarge the circle would disturb and deaden its harmony. We

irrigate the ground in our gardens: the public road may require the

water equally: yet we give it rather to our borders; and first to those

that lie against the house! God himself did not fill the world at once

with happy creatures: he enlivened one small portion of it with them,

and began with single affections, as well as pure and unmixt. We must

have an object and an aim, or our strength, if any strength belongs to

us, will be useless.

_Kotzebue_.--There is much good sense in these remarks: but I am not at

all times at leisure and in readiness to receive instruction. I am old

enough to have laid down my own plans of life; and I trust I am by no

means deficient in the relations I bear to society.

_Sandt_.--Lovest thou thy children? Oh! my heart bleeds! But the birds

can fly; and the nest requires no warmth from the parent, no cover

against the rain and the wind.

_Kotzebue_.--This is wildness: this is agony. Your face is laden with

large drops; some of them tears, some not. Be more rational and calm, my

dear young man! and less enthusiastic.

_Sandt_.--They who will not let us be rational, make us enthusiastic by

force. Do you love your children? I ask you again. If you do, you must

love them more than another man's. Only they who are indifferent to all,

profess a parity.

_Kotzebue_.--Sir! indeed your conversation very much surprises me.

_Sandt_.--I see it does: you stare, and would look proud. Emperors and

kings, and all but maniacs, would lose that faculty with me. I could

speedily bring them to a just sense of their nothingness, unless their

ears were calked and pitched, although I am no Savonarola. He, too, died

sadly!

_Kotzebue_.--Amid so much confidence of power, and such an assumption of

authority, your voice is gentle--almost plaintive.

_Sandt_.--It should be plaintive. Oh, could it be but persuasive!

_Kotzebue_.--Why take this deep interest in me? I do not merit nor

require it. Surely any one would think we had been acquainted with each

other for many years.

_Sandt_.--What! should I have asked you such a question as the last,

after long knowing you?

_Kotzebue_, (_aside_.)--This resembles insanity.

_Sandt_.--The insane have quick ears, sir, and sometimes quick

apprehensions.

_Kotzebue_.--I really beg your pardon.

_Sandt_.--I ought not then to have heard you, and beg yours. My madness

could release many from a worse; from a madness which hurts them

grievously; a madness which has been and will be hereditary: mine, again

and again I repeat it, would burst asunder the strong swathes that

fasten them to pillar and post. Sir! sir! if I entertained not the

remains of respect for you, in your domestic state, I should never have

held with you this conversation. Germany is Germany: she ought to have

nothing political in common with what is not Germany. Her freedom and

security now demand that she celebrate the communion of the faithful.

Our country is the only one in all the explored regions on earth that

never has been conquered. Arabia and Russia boast it falsely; France

falsely; Rome falsely. A fragment off the empire of Darius fell and

crushed her: Valentinian was the footstool of Sapor, and Rome was buried

in Byzantium. Boys must not learn this, and men will not. Britain, the

wealthiest and most powerful of nations, and, after our own, the most

literate and humane, received from us colonies and laws. Alas! those

laws, which she retains as her fairest heritage, we value not: we

surrender them to gangs of robbers, who fortify themselves within walled

cities, and enter into leagues against us. When they quarrel, they push

us upon one another's sword, and command us to thank God for the

victories that enslave us. These are the glories we celebrate; these are

the festivals we hold, on the burial-mounds of our ancestors. Blessed

are those who lie under them! blessed are also those who remember what

they were, and call upon their names in the holiness of love.

_Kotzebue_.--Moderate the transport that inflames and consumes you.

There is no dishonour in a nation being conquered by a stronger.

_Sandt_.--There may be great dishonour in letting it be stronger; great,

for instance, in our disunion.

_Kotzebue_.--We have only been conquered by the French in our turn.

_Sandt_.--No, sir, no: we have not been, in turn or out. Our puny

princes were disarmed by promises and lies: they accepted paper crowns

from the very thief who was sweeping into his hat their forks and

spoons. A cunning traitor snared incautious ones, plucked them, devoured

them, and slept upon their feathers.

_Kotzebue_.--I would rather turn back with you to the ancient glories of

our country than fix my attention on the sorrowful scenes more near to

us. We may be justly proud of our literary men, who unite the suffrages

of every capital, to the exclusion of almost all their own.

_Sandt_.--Many Germans well deserve this honour, others are manger-fed

and hirelings.

_Kotzebue_.--The English and the Greeks are the only nations that rival

us in poetry, or in any works of imagination.

_Sandt_.--While on this high ground we pretend to a rivalship with

England and Greece, can we reflect, without a sinking of the heart, on

our inferiority in political and civil dignity? Why are we lower than

they? Our mothers are like their mothers; our children are like their

children; our limbs are as strong, our capacities are as enlarged, our

desire of improvement in the arts and sciences is neither less vivid and

generous, nor less temperate and well-directed. The Greeks were under

disadvantages which never bore in any degree on us; yet they rose

through them vigorously and erectly. They were Asiatic in what ought to

be the finer part of the affections; their women were veiled and

secluded, never visited the captive, never released the slave, never sat

by the sick in the hospital, never heard the child's lesson repeated in

the school. Ours are more tender, compassionate, and charitable, than

poets have feigned of the past, or prophets have announced of the

future; and, nursed at their breasts and educated at their feet, blush

we not at our degeneracy? The most indifferent stranger feels a pleasure

at finding, in the worst-written history of Spain, her various kingdoms

ultimately mingled, although the character of the governors, and perhaps

of the governed, is congenial to few. What delight, then, must overflow

on Europe, from seeing the mother of her noblest nation rear again her

venerable head, and bless all her children for the first time united!

_Kotzebue_.--I am bound to oppose such a project.

_Sandt_.--Say not so: in God's name, say not so.

_Kotzebue_.--In such confederacy I see nothing but conspiracy and

rebellion, and I am bound, I tell you again, sir, to defeat it, if

possible.

_Sandt._--Bound! I must then release you.

_Kotzebue_.--How should you, young gentleman, release me?

_Sandt_.--May no pain follow the cutting of the knot! But think again:

think better: spare me!

_Kotzebue_.--I will not betray you.

_Sandt_.--That would serve nobody: yet, if in your opinion betraying me

can benefit you or your family, deem it no harm; so much greater has

been done by you in abandoning the cause of Germany. Here is your paper;

here is your ink.

_Kotzebue_.--Do you imagine me an informer?

_Sandt_.--From maxims and conduct such as yours, spring up the brood,

the necessity, and the occupation of them. There would be none, if good

men thought it a part of goodness to be as active and vigilant as the

bad. I must go, sir! Return to yourself in time! How it pains me to

think of losing you! Be my friend!

_Kotzebue_.--I would be.

_Sandt_.--Be a German!

_Kotzebue_.--I am.

_Sandt_, (_having gone out_.)--Perjurer and profaner! Yet his heart is

kindly. I must grieve for him! Away with tenderness! I disrobe him of

the privilege to pity me or to praise me, as he would have done had I

lived of old. Better men shall do more. God calls them: me too he calls:

I will enter the door again. May the greater sacrifice bring the people

together, and hold them evermore in peace and concord. The lesser victim

follows willingly. (_Enters again_.)

Turn! die! (_strikes_.)

Alas! alas! no man ever fell alone. How many innocent always perish with

one guilty! and writhe longer!

Unhappy children! I shall weep for you elsewhere. Some days are left me.

In a very few the whole of this little world will lie between us. I have

sanctified in you the memory of your father. Genius but reveals

dishonour, commiseration covers it.

* * * * *

THE JEWELLER'S WIFE.

A PASSAGE IN THE CAREER OF EL EMPECINADO.

When the Empecinado, after escaping from the Burgo de Osma, rejoined his

band, and again repaired to the favourite skirmishing ground on the

banks of the Duero, he found the state of affairs in Old Castile

becoming daily less favourable for his operations. The French overran

the greater part of the province, and visited with severe punishment any

disobedience of their orders; so that the peasantry no longer dared to

assist the guerillas as they had previously done. Many of the villages

on the Duero had become _afrancesados_, not, it is true, through love,

but through dread of the invaders, and in the hope of preserving

themselves from pillage and oppression. However much the people in their

hearts might wish success to men like the Empecinado, the guerillas were

too few and too feeble to afford protection to those who, by giving them

assistance or information, would incur the displeasure of the French.

The clergy were the only class that, almost without an exception,

remained stanch to the cause of Spanish independence, and their purses

and refectories were ever open to those who took up arms in its defence.

Noways deterred by this unfavourable aspect of affairs, the Empecinado

resolved to carry on the war in Old Castile, even though unaided and

alone. He established his bivouac in the pine-woods of Coca, and sent

out spies towards Somosierra and Burgos, to get information of some

convoy of which the capture might yield both honour and profit.

It was on the second morning after the departure of the spies, and a few

minutes before daybreak, that the little camp was aroused by a shot from

a sentry, placed on the skirt of the wood. In an instant every man was

on his feet. It was the Empecinado's custom, when outlying in this

manner, to make one-half his band sleep fully armed and equipped, with

their horses saddled and bridled beside them; and a fortunate precaution

it was in this instance. Scarcely had the men time to untether and

spring upon their horses, when the sentry galloped headlong into the

camp.

"_Los Franceses! Los Franceses_!" exclaimed he, breathless with speed.

One of the Empecinado's first qualities was his presence of mind, which

never deserted him even in the most critical situations. Instantly

forming up that moiety of his men which was already in the saddle, he

left a detachment in front of those who were hastily saddling and

arming, and with the remainder retired a little to the left of the open

ground on which the bivouac was established. Almost before he had

completed this arrangement, the jingling of arms and clattering of

horses' feet were heard, and a squadron of French cavalry galloped down

the glade. The Empecinado gave the word to charge, and as Fuentes at the

head of one party advanced to meet them, he himself attacked them in

flank. The French, not having anticipated much opposition from a foe

whom they had expected to find sleeping, were somewhat surprized at the

fierce resistance they met. A hard fight took place, rendered still more

confused by the darkness, or rather by a faint grey light, which was

just beginning to appear, and gave a shadowy indistinctness to

surrounding objects. The Spaniards were inferior in number to their

opponents, and it was beginning to go hard with them, when the remainder

of the guerillas, now armed and mounted, came up to their assistance. On

perceiving this accession to their adversaries' force, the French

thought they had been led into an ambuscade, and retreating in tolerable

order to the edge of the wood, at last fairly turned tail and ran for

it, leaving several killed and wounded on the ground, and were pursued

for some distance by the guerillas, who, however, only succeeded in

making one prisoner. This was a young man in the dress of a peasant, who

being badly mounted, was easily overtaken. On being brought before the

Empecinado, the latter with no small surprize recognized a native of

Aranda, named Pedro Gutierrez, who was one of the emissaries he had sent

out two days previously to get information concerning the movements of

the enemy.

With pale cheek and faltering voice, the prisoner answered the

Empecinado's interrogatories. It appears that he had been detected as a

spy by the French, who had given him his choice between a halter and the

betrayal of his countrymen and employers. With the fear of death before

his eyes, he had consented to turn traitor.

The deepest silence prevailed among the guerillas during his narrative,

and remained unbroken for a full minute after he had concluded. The

Empecinado's brow was black as thunder, and his features assumed an

expression which the trembling wretch well knew how to interpret.

"_Que podia hacer, señores_?" said the culprit, casting an appealing,

imploring glance around him. "The rope was round my neck; I have an aged

father and am his only support. Life is very sweet. What could I do?"

"_Die_!" replied the Empecinado, in his deep stern voice--"Die like a

man _then_, instead of dying like a dog _now_!"

He turned his back upon him, and ten minutes later, the body of the

unfortunate spy was dangling from the branches of a neighbouring tree,

and the guerillas marched off to seek another and a safer bivouac.

A few days after this incident the other spies returned, and after

receiving their report, and consulting with his lieutenant, Mariano

Fuentes, the Empecinado broke up the little camp, and led his band in

the direction of the _camino réal_.

Along that part of the high-road, from Madrid to the Pyrenees, which

winds through the mountain range of Onrubias, an escort of fifty French

dragoons was marching, about an hour before dusk, on an evening of early

spring. Two carriages, and three or four heavily-laden carts, each drawn

by half-a-dozen mules, composed the whole of the convoy; the value of

which, however, might be deemed considerable, judging from the strength

of the escort, and the precautions observed by the officer in command to

avoid a surprise--precautions which were not of much avail; for, on

reaching a spot where the road widened considerably, and was traversed

by a broad ravine, the party was suddenly charged on either flank by

double their number of guerillas. The dragoons made a gallant

resistance, but it was a short one, for they had no room or time to form

in any order, and were far overmatched in the hand-to-hand contest that

ensued. With the very first who fled went a gentleman in civilian's

garb, who sprang out of the most elegant of the two carriages, and

mounting a fine Andalusian horse led by a groom, was off like the wind,

disregarding the shrieks of his travelling companion, a female two or

three-and-twenty years old, of great beauty, and very richly attired.

The cries and alarm of the lady thus deserted were redoubled, when an

instant later a guerilla of fierce aspect presented himself at the

carriage-door.

"Have no fear, señora," said the Empecinado, "you are in the hands of

honourable men, and no harm shall be done you." And having by suchlike

assurances succeeded in calming her terrors, he obtained from her some

information as to the contents of the carts and carriages, as well as

regarding herself and her late companion.

The man who had abandoned her, and consulted his own safety by flying

with the escort, was her husband, Monsieur Barbot, jeweller and diamond

merchant to the late King Charles the Fourth. Alarmed by the unsettled

state of things in Spain, he was hastening to take refuge in France,

with his handsome wife and his great wealth--of the latter of which no

inconsiderable portion was contained in the carriage, in the shape of

caskets of jewellery, diamonds, and other valuables.

Repairing to the neighbouring mountains, the guerillas proceeded to

examine their booty, which the Empecinado permitted them to divide among

themselves, with the exception of the carriage and its contents,

including the lady, which he reserved for his own share.

On the following day came letters from the French military governor of

Aranda del Duero, and from Monsieur Barbot, who had taken refuge in that

town, and offered a large sum as ransom for his wife. To this

application the Empecinado did not vouchsafe any answer, but marched off

to his native village of Castrillo, taking with him jewels, carriage,

and lady. The latter he established in the house of his brother Manuel,

recommending her to the care of his sister-in-law, and commanding that

she should be treated with all possible respect, and her wishes attended

to on every point.

The Empecinado's exultation at the success of his enterprize was great,

but he little foresaw all the danger and trouble that his rich capture

was hereafter to occasion him. He had become violently enamoured of his

fair prisoner, and in order to have leisure to pay his court to her, he

sent off his partida on a distant expedition under the command of

Fuentes, and himself remained at Castrillo, doing his utmost to find

favour in the eyes of the beautiful Madame Barbot. He was then in the

prime of life, a remarkably handsome man, and notwithstanding that the

French affected to treat him as a brigand, his courage and patriotism

were admitted by the unprejudiced among all parties, and his bold and

successful deeds had already procured him a degree of renown that was an

additional recommendation of him to the fair sex. It may not, therefore,

be deemed very surprising that, after the first few days of her

captivity were passed, and she had become a little used to the novelty

of her position, the lady began to consider the Empecinado with some

degree of favour, and seemed not altogether disposed to be inconsolable

in her widowhood. He on his part spared no pains to please her. His very

nature seemed changed by the violence of his new passion; and so great

was the metamorphosis that his best friends scarcely recognized him for

the same man. He seemed totally to have forgotten the career to which he

had devoted himself, and the hatred and war of extermination he had

vowed against the French. The restless activity and spirit of enterprize

which formed such distinguishing traits in his character, were

completely lulled to sleep by the charms of the fair Barbot. Nor was the

change in his external appearance less striking. Aware that the rude

manners and attire of a guerilla were not likely to please the

fastidious taste of a town-bred dame, he hastened to discard them. His

rough bushy beard and mustaches were carefully trimmed and adjusted by

the most expert barber of the neighbourhood; his sheepskin jacket, heavy

boots, and jingling double-roweled spurs thrown aside, and in their

place he assumed the national garb, so well adapted to show off a

handsome person, and which, although now almost disused throughout

Spain, far surpasses in elegance the prevailing costumes of the

nineteenth century: a short light jacket of black velvet, and waistcoat

of the richest silk, both profusely decorated with gold filigree

buttons; purple velvet breeches fastened at the knee with bunches of

ribands; silk stockings, and falling boots of chamois leather, by the

most expert maker in Cordova; a crimson silk sash round his waist, and

round his neck a silk handkerchief, of which the ends were drawn through

a magnificent jewelled ring. A green velvet cap, ornamented with sables

and silver, and an ample cloak trimmed with silver lace, the spoil of a

commandant of French gendarmes, completed this picturesque costume.

Thus attired, and mounted on a splendid horse, the Empecinado escorted

the object of his new flame to all the fêtes and merry-makings of the

surrounding country. Not a _romeria_ in the neighbouring villages, not a

fair or a bull-fight in all the valley of the Duero, but were graced by

the presence of Martin Diez and his dulcinea, whose fine horse and

gallant equipment, but more especially the beauty of the rider, inspired

universal admiration. As might be expected, many of those who had known

the Empecinado a poor vine-dresser, became envious of his good fortune,

and others who envied him not, were indignant at seeing him waste his

time in such degrading effeminacy, instead of following up the career

which he had so nobly begun. There was much murmuring, therefore, to

which, however, he gave little heed; and several weeks had passed in the

manner above described, when an incident occurred to rouse him from the

sort of lethargy in which he was sunk.

A despatch reached him from the Captain-General, Don Gregorio Cuesta,

requiring his immediate presence at Ciudad Rodrigo, there to receive

directions concerning the execution of a service of the greatest

importance, and which was to be intrusted to him.

This order had its origin in circumstances of which the Empecinado was

totally ignorant. The jeweller Barbot, finding that neither large offers

nor threats of punishment had any effect upon the Empecinado, who

persisted in keeping his wife prisoner, made interest with the Duke of

Infantado, then general of one of the Spanish armies, and besought him

to exert his influence in favour of the captive lady, and to have her

restored to her friends. The duke, who was a very important personage at

the court of Charles the Fourth, and the favourite of Ferdinand the

Seventh at the beginning of his reign, entertained a particular

friendship for Barbot; and, if the _chronique scandaleuse_ of Madrid

might be believed, a still more particular one for his wife. He

immediately wrote to General Cuesta, desiring that the lady might be

sent back to her husband without delay, as well as all the jewels and

other spoil that had been seized by the Empecinado.

With much difficulty did the guerilla make up his mind to abandon the

inglorious position, and to go where duty called him. Strongly

recommending his captive to his brother and sister-in-law, he set out

for Ciudad Rodrigo, escorted by a sergeant and ten men of his partida.

They had not proceeded half a mile from Castrillo, when, from behind a

hedge bordering the road, a shot was fired, and the bullet slightly

wounded the Empecinado's charger. Two of the escort pushed their horses

through the hedge, and immediately returned, dragging between them a

grey-haired old man, seventy years of age, who clutched in his wrinkled

fingers a rusty carbine that had just been discharged.

"He is surely mad!" exclaimed the Empecinado, gazing in astonishment at

the venerable assassin. "_Dime, viejo_; do you know me? And why do you

seek my life?"

"_Si, si, te conozes_. You are the Empecinado--the bloody Empecinado.

Give me back my Pedro, whom you murdered. _Ay di me! mi Pedrillo, te han

matado!_"

And the old man's frame quivered with rage, as he glared on the

Empecinado with an expression of unutterable hate.

One of the guerillas stepped forward--

"'Tis old Gutierrez, the father of Pedro, who was hung in the Piñares de

Coca, for betraying us to the French."

"Throw his carbine into yonder pool, and leave the poor wretch," said

the Empecinado; "his son deserved the death he met."

"He missed his aim to-day, but he may point truer another time," said

one of the men, half drawing a pistol from his holster.

"Harm him not!" said the Empecinado sternly, and the party rode on.

"_Maldito seas_!" screamed the old man, casting himself in the dust of

the road, in a paroxysm of impotent fury. "_Maldito! Maldito! Ay de mi!

mi Pedrillo!_"

And his curses and lamentations continued till the guerillas were out of

hearing.

On arriving at Ciudad Rodrigo, the Empecinado went immediately to

General Cuesta, who, although he did not receive him unkindly, could not

but blame him greatly for the enormous crime he had committed in

carrying off a lady who was distinguished by so mighty a personage as

the Duke of Infantado. He told him it was absolutely necessary to devise

some plan by which the Duke's anger might be appeased. Murat also had

sent a message to the central junta, saying, that if satisfaction were

not given, he would send troops to lay waste the whole district of

Penafiel, in which Castrillo was situated; and it was probable, that if

he had not done so already, it was because a large portion of the

inhabitants of that district were believed to be well affected to the

French. Without exactly telling him what he must do, the old general

gave him a despatch for the _corregidor_ of Penafiel, and desired him to

present himself before that functionary, and concert with him the

measures to be taken.

The Empecinado took his leave, and was quitting the governor's palace

when he overtook at the door an _avogado_, who was a countryman of his,

and whom he had left at Castrillo when he set out from that place. The

sight of this man was a ray of light to the Empecinado, who immediately

suspected that his enemies were intriguing against him. He proposed to

the lawyer that they should walk to the inn, to which the latter

consented. They had to traverse a lonely place, known by the name of San

Francisco's Meadow, and on arriving there, behind the shelter of some

walls, the Empecinado seized the advocate by the collar, and swore he

would strangle him if he did not instantly confess what business had

brought him to Ciudad Rodrigo, as well as all the plans or plots against

the Empecinado to which he might be privy.

The lawyer, who had known Diez from his childhood, and was fully aware

of his desperate character and of his own peril, trembled for his life,

and besought him earnestly to use no violence, for that he was willing

to tell all he knew. Thereupon the Empecinado loosened his grasp, which

had wellnigh throttled the poor avogado, and cocking a pistol, as a sort

of warning to the other to tell the truth, bade him sit down beside him

and proceed with his narrative.

The lawyer informed him that the _ayuntamiento_ or corporation of

Castrillo, and those of all the towns and villages of the district,

found themselves in great trouble on account of the convoy he had

intercepted, and more particularly of the lady whom he kept prisoner,

and whose friends it appeared were persons of much influence with both

contending parties, for that the junta and the French had alike demanded

her liberty; and while the latter were about to send troops to put the

whole country to fire and sword, the former, as well as the Spanish

generals, had refused to afford them any protection against the

consequences of her detention, and accused the ayuntamiento and the

priests of encouraging the Empecinado to hold her in captivity. He

himself had been sent to Ciudad Rodrigo to beg General Cuesta's advice,

and the general had declared himself unable to assist them, but

recommended them to restore the lady and treasure, if they did not wish

the French to lay waste the country, and take by force the bone of

contention.

The Empecinado, suspecting that General Cuesta had not used all due

frankness with him in this matter, handed to the lawyer the letter that

had been given him for the corregidor of Penafiel, and compelled him,

much against his will, to open and read it. Its contents coincided with

what the avogado had told him; the general advising the corregidor to

use every means to compromise the matter, rather than wait till the

French should do themselves justice by the strong hand.

Perceiving that, from various motives, every body was against him in

this matter, the Empecinado bethought himself how he should get out of

the scrape.

"As an old friend and countryman, and more especially as a lawyer," said

he to the avogado, "you are the most fitting man to give me advice in

this difficulty. Tell me, then, what I ought to do, in order that our

native town, which is innocent in the matter, should suffer no

prejudice."

"You speak now like a sensible man," replied the other, "and as a friend

will I advise you. Let us immediately set off to Penafiel, deliver the

general's letter to the corregidor, and take him with us to Castrillo.

There, for form's sake, an examination of your conduct in the affair can

take place. You shall give up the jewels, the carriage, and the lady,

and set off immediately to join your partida."

"To the greater part of that I willingly agree," said the Empecinado.

"The jewels are buried in the cellar, and the carriage is in the stable.

Take both when you list. But as to the lady, before I give her up, I

will give up my own soul. She is my property; I took her in fair fight,

and at the risk of my life."

"You will think better of it before we get to Castrillo," replied the

lawyer.

The Empecinado shook his head, but led the way to the inn, where they

took horse, and the next day reached Penafiel, whence they set out the

following morning for Castrillo, which is a couple of leagues further,

accompanied by the corregidor, his secretary, and two alguazils. The

Empecinado was induced to leave his escort at Penafiel, in order that

the sort of _pro formâ_ investigation which was to be gone through might

not appear to have taken place under circumstances of intimidation. The

avogado started a couple of hours earlier than the rest of the party, to

have things in readiness, so that the proceedings might be got through

as rapidly as possible.

It was about eight o'clock on a fine summer's morning that the

Empecinado and his companions reached Castrillo. As they entered the

town, an old mendicant, who was lying curled up like a dog in the

sunshine under the porch of a house, lifted his head at the noise of the

horses. As his eyes rested upon Diez, he made a bound forward with an

agility extraordinary in one of his years, and fell almost under the

feet of the Empecinado's horse, making the startled animal spring aside

with a violence and suddenness sufficient to unhorse many a less

practised rider than the one who bestrode him. The Empecinado lifted his

whip in anger, but the old man, who had risen to his feet, showed no

sign of fear, and as he stood in the middle of the road, and immediately

in the path of the Empecinado, the latter recognized the wild features

and long grey hair of old Gutierrez.

"_Maldito seas_!" cried the old man, extending his arms towards the

guerilla. "Murderer! the hour of vengeance is nigh. I saw it in my

dreams. My Pedrillo showed me his assassin trampled under the feet of

horses. _Asesino! Venga la hora de tu muerte!_"

And the old man, who was half crazed by his misfortunes, relapsed into

an incoherent strain of lamentations for his son, and curses upon him

whom he called his murderer.

The Empecinado, who, on recognizing old Gutierrez, had lowered his

riding-whip, and listened unmoved to his curses and predictions, rode

forward, explaining as he went, to the astonished corregidor, the scene

that had just occurred. A little further on he separated from his

companions, giving them rendezvous at ten o'clock at the house of the

ayuntamiento. Proceeding to his brother's dwelling, he paid a visit to

Madame Barbot, breakfasted with her, and then prepared to keep his

appointment. He placed a brace of pistols and a poniard in his belt, and

taking a loaded _trabuco_ or blunderbuss, in his hand, wrapped himself

in his cloak so as to conceal his weapons, and repaired to the

town-hall.

He found the tribunal already installed, and every thing in readiness.

Saluting the corregidor, he began pacing up and down the room without

taking off his cloak. The corregidor repeatedly urged him to be seated,

but he refused, and continued his walk, replying to the questions that

were put to him, his answers to which were duly written down. About a

quarter of an hour had passed in this manner, when a noise of feet and

talking was heard in the street, and the Empecinado, as he passed one of

the windows that looked out upon the _plaza_, saw, with no very

comfortable feelings, that a number of armed peasants were entering the

town hall. He perceived that he was betrayed, but his presence of mind

stood his friend, and with his usual promptitude, he in a moment decided

how he should act. Without allowing it to appear that he had any

suspicion of what was going on, he walked to the door of the audience

chamber, and before any one could interfere, shut and locked it. Then

stepping up to the corregidor, he threw off his cloak, and presented his

trabuco at the magistrate's head.

"Señor Corregidor," said he, "this is not our agreement, but a base act

of treachery. Commend yourself to God, for you are about to die."

The corregidor was so dreadfully terrified at these words, and at the

menacing action of the Empecinado, that he swooned away, and fell down

under the table--the escribano fled into an adjoining chamber, and

concealed himself under a bed--while the alguazils, trembling with fear,

threw themselves upon their knees, and petitioned for mercy. The

Empecinado, finding himself with so little trouble master of the field

of battle, took possession of the papers that were lying upon the table,

and, unlocking the door, proceeded to the principal staircase, which he

found occupied by inhabitants of the town, armed with muskets and

fowling-pieces. Placing his blunderbuss under his arm, with his hand

upon the trigger, "Make way!" cried he; "the first who moves a finger

may reckon upon the contents of my trabuco." His menace and resolute

character produced the desired effect; a passage was opened, and he left

the house in triumph. On reaching the street, however, he found a great

crowd of men, women, and even children, assembled, who occupied the

plaza and all the adjacent streets, and received him with loud cries of

"Death to the Empecinado! _Muera el ladron y mal Cristiano_!" The armed

men whom he had left in the town-house fired several shots at him from

the windows, but nobody dared to lay hands upon him, as he marched

slowly and steadily through the crowd, trabuco in hand, and casting

glances on either side that made those upon whom they fell shrink

involuntarily backwards.

On the low roof of one of the houses of the plaza, that formed the angle

of the Calle de la Cruz, or street of the cross, old Gutierrez had taken

his station. With the fire of insanity in his bloodshot eyes, and a grin

of exultation upon his wasted features, he witnessed the persecution of

the Empecinado, and while his ears drank in the yells and hootings of

the multitude, he added his shrill cracked voice to the uproar. When the

shots were fired from the town-hall, he bounded and capered upon the

platform, clapping his meagre fingers together in ecstasy; but as the

Empecinado got further from the house, and the firing was discontinued,

an expression of anxiety replaced the look of triumph that had lighted

up the old maniac's face. Diez still moved on unhurt, and was now within

a few paces of the house on which Gutierrez had perched himself. The old

man's uneasiness increased. "Va a escapar!" muttered he to himself;

"they will let him escape. Oh, if I had a gun, my Pedrillo would soon be

avenged!"

The Empecinado was passing under the house. A sudden thought struck

Gutierrez. Stamping with his foot, he broke two or three of the tiles on

which he was standing, and snatching up a large heavy fragment, he

leaned over the edge of the roof to get a full view of the Empecinado,

who was at that moment leaving the plaza and entering the Calle de la

Cruz. In five seconds more he would be out of sight. As it was, it was

only by leaning very far forward that Gutierrez could see him, walking

calmly along, and keeping at bay the angry but cowardly mob that yelped

at his heels, like a parcel of village curs pursuing a bloodhound, whose

look alone prevents their too near approach.

Throwing his left arm round a chimney, the old man swung himself

forward, and with all the force that he possessed, hurled the tile at

the object of his hate. The missile struck the Empecinado upon the

temple, and he fell, stunned and bleeding, to the ground.

"_Viva_!" screamed Gutierrez; but a cry of agony followed the shout of

exultation. The chimney by which the old man supported himself was loose

and crumbling, and totally unfit to bear his weight as he hung on by it,

and leaned forward to gloat over his vengeance. It tottered for a

moment, and then fell with a crash into the street. The height was not

great, but the pavement was sharp and uneven; the old man pitched upon

his head, and when lifted up was already a corpse.

When the mob saw the Empecinado fall, they threw themselves upon him

with as much ferocity as they had previously shown cowardice, and beat

and ill-treated him in every possible manner. Not satisfied with that,

they bound him hand and foot, and pushed him through a cellar window,

throwing after him stones, and every thing they could find lying about

the street. At last, wearied by their own brutality, they left him for

dead, and he remained in that state till nightfall, when the corregidor

and the ayuntamiento proceeded to inspect his body, in order to certify

his death, and have him buried. When he was brought out of the cellar,

however, they perceived he still breathed, and sent for a surgeon, and

also for a priest to administer the last sacraments. They then carried

him upon a ladder to the _posito_, or public granary, a strong building,

where they considered he would be in safety, and put him to bed, bathed

in blood and covered with wounds and bruises.

The corregidor, fearing that the news of the riot, and of the death of

the Empecinado, would reach Penafiel, and that the escort which had been

left there, and the many partizans that Diez had in that town, would

come over to Castrillo to avenge his death, persuaded one of the curés

or parish priests of the latter place, to go over to Penafiel in all

haste, and, counterfeiting great alarm, to spread the report that the

French had entered Castrillo, seized the Empecinado, and carried him off

to Aranda. This was accordingly done; and the Empecinado's escort being

made aware of the vicinity of the French and the risk they ran,

immediately mounted their horses and marched to join Mariano Fuentes,

accompanied by upwards of fifty young men, all partizans of the

Empecinado, and eager to revenge him. This matter being arranged, the

corregidor had the jewels that were buried in the cellar of Manuel Diez

dug up, and having taken possession of them, and installed Madame Barbot

with all due attention in one of the principal houses of the town, he

forwarded a report to General Cuesta of all that had occurred. The

general immediately sent an escort to conduct the lady and the treasure

to Ciudad Rodrigo, and ordered that as soon as the Empecinado was in a

state to be moved, he should also be sent under a strong guard to that

city.

Meanwhile, the Empecinado's vigorous constitution triumphed over the

injuries he had received, and he was getting so rapidly better, that for

his safer custody the corregidor thought it necessary to have him

heavily ironed. Deeming it impossible he should escape, and there being

no troops in the village, no sentry was placed over him, so that at

night his friends were able to hold discourse with him through the

grating of one of the windows of the posito. In this manner he contrived

to send a message to his brother Manuel, who, having also got into

trouble on account of Madame Barbot's detention, had been compelled to

take refuge in the mountains of Bilbuena, three leagues from Castrillo.

Manuel took advantage of a dark night to steal into the town in

disguise, and to speak with the Empecinado. He informed him that the

superior of the Bernardine Monastery, in the Sierra de Balbuena, had

been advised that it was the intention of the Empecinado's enemies to

deliver him over to the French, in order that they might shoot him. The

Empecinado replied, that he strongly suspected there was some such plot

in agitation, and desired his brother to seek out Mariano Fuentes, and

order him to march his band into the neighbourhood of Castrillo, and

that on their arrival he would send them word what to do.

Eight days elapsed, and the Empecinado was now completely cured of his

wounds, so that he was in much apprehension lest he should be sent off

to Ciudad Rodrio before the arrival of Fuentes. On the eighth night,

however, his brother came to the window, and informed him that the

partida was in the neighbourhood, and only waited his orders to march

upon Castrillo, rescue him, and revenge the treatment he had received.

This the Empecinado strongly enjoined them not to do, but desired his

brother to come to his prison door at two o'clock the next morning with

a led horse, and that he had the means to set himself at liberty. Manuel

Diez did as he was ordered, wondering, however, in what manner the

Empecinado intended to get out of the posito, which was a solidly

constructed edifice with a massive door and grated windows. But the next

night, when the guerilla heard the horses approaching his prison, he

seized the door by an iron bar that traversed it on the inner side, and,

exerting his prodigious strength, tore it off the hinges as though it

had been of pasteboard. His feet being fastened together by a chain, he

was compelled to sit sideways upon the saddle; but so elated was he to

find himself once more at liberty that he pushed his horse into a

gallop, and with his fetters clanking as he went, dashed through the

streets of Castrillo, to the astonishment and consternation of the

inhabitants, who knew not what devil's dance was going on in their

usually quiet town.

At Olmos, a village a quarter of a league from Castrillo, the fugitives

halted, and roused a smith, who knocked off the Empecinado's irons.

After a short rest at the house of an approved friend they remounted

their horses, and a little after daybreak reached the place where

Fuentes had taken up his bivouac. The Empecinado was received with great

rejoicing, and immediately resumed the command. He passed a review of

his band, and found it consisted of two hundred and twenty men, all well

mounted and armed.

Great was the alarm of the inhabitants of Castrillo when they found the

prison broken open and the prisoner gone; and their terror was increased

a hundred-fold, when a few hours later news was brought that the

Empecinado was marching towards the town at the head of a strong body of

cavalry. Some concealed themselves in cellars and suchlike

hiding-places, others left the town and fled to the neighbouring woods;

but the majority, despairing of escape by human means from the terrible

anger of the Empecinado, shut themselves up in their houses, closed the

doors and windows, and prayed to the Virgin for deliverance from the

impending evil. Never had there been seen in Castrillo such a counting

of rosaries and beating of breasts, such genuflexions, and mumbling of

aves and paters, as upon that morning.

At noon the Empecinado entered the town at the head of his band,

trumpets sounding, and the men firing their pistols and carbines into

the air, in sign of joy at having recovered their leader. Forming up the

partida in the market-place, the Empecinado sent for the corregidor and

other authorities, who presented themselves before him pale and

trembling, and fully believing they had not five minutes to live.

"Fear nothing!" said the Empecinado, observing their terror. "It is

certain I have met foul treatment at your hands; and it was the harder

to bear coming from my own countrymen and townsfolk. But you have been

misled, and will one day repent your conduct. I have forgotten your ill

usage, and only remember the poverty of my native town, and the misery

in which this war has plunged many of its inhabitants."

So saying, he delivered to the alcalde and the parish priests a hundred

ounces of gold for the relief of the poor and support of the hospital,

and ten more to be spent in a _novillada_, or bull-bait and festival for

the whole town. Cutting short their thanks and excuses, he left

Castrillo and marched to the village of Sacramenia, where he quartered

his men, and, accompanied by Mariano Fuentes, went to pay a visit to a

neighbouring monastery. The monks received him with open arms and a

hearty welcome, hailing him as the main prop of the cause of

independence in Old Castile. They sat down to dinner in the refectory;

and the conversation turning upon the state of the country, the

Empecinado expressed his unwillingness to carry on the war in that

province, on account of the little confidence he could place in the

inhabitants, so many of whom had become _afrancesados_; and as a proof

of this, he related all that had occurred to him at Castrillo. Upon

hearing this the abbot, who was a man distinguished for his talents and

patriotism, recommended Diez to lead his band to New Castile, where he

would not have to encounter the persecutions of those who, having known

him poor and insignificant, envied him his good fortune, and sought to

throw obstacles in his path. He offered to get him letters from the

general of the order of San Bernardo to the superiors of the various

monasteries, in order that he might receive such assistance and support

as they could give, and he might chance to require.

"No one is a prophet in his own country," said the good father; "Mahomet

in his native town of Medina met with the same ill-treatment that you,

Martin Diez, have encountered in the place of your birth. Abandon, then,

a province which does not recognize your value, and go where your

reputation has already preceded you, to defend the holy cause of Spain

and of religion."

Struck by the justice of this reasoning, the Empecinado resolved to

change the scene of his operations, and the next morning marched his

squadron in the direction of New Castile.

* * * * *

THE TALE OF A TUB: AN ADDITIONAL CHAPTER.

HOW JACK RAN MAD A SECOND TIME.

After Jack and Martin parted company, you may remember that Jack, who

had turned his face northward, got into high favour with the landlord of

the North Farm Estate, who, being mightily edified with his discourses

and sanctimonious demeanour, and not aware of his having been mad

before, or being, perchance, just as mad himself--took him in, made much

of him, gave him a cottage upon his manor to live in, and built him a

tabernacle in which he might hold forth when the spirit moved him. In

process of time, however, it happened that North Farm and the Albion

Estates came into the possession of one proprietor, Esquire Bull, in

whose house Martin had always been retained as domestic chaplain--at

least, ever since that desperate scuffle with Lord Peter and his crew,

when he tried to land some Spanish smugglers on the coast, for the

purpose of carrying off Martin, and establishing himself in Squire

Bull's house in his stead. Squire Bull, who was a man of his word, and

wished to leave all things on North Farm as he found them, Jack and his

tabernacle included, undertook at once to pay him a reasonable salary,

with the free use of his house and tabernacle to him and his heirs for

ever. But knowing that on a previous occasion, (which you may

recollect,[46]) Jack's melancholy had gone so far that he had hanged

himself, though he was cut down just before giving up the ghost, and by

dint of bloodletting and galvanism, had been revived; and also that,

notwithstanding his periodical fits and hallucinations, he could beat

even Peter himself, who had been his instructor, for cunning and

casuistry, he took care that, before Jack was allowed to take possession

under his new lease, every thing should be made square between them. So

he had the terms of their indenture all written out on parchment,

signed, sealed, and delivered before witnesses, and even got a private

Act of Parliament carried through, for the purpose of making every thing

between them more secure. And well it was for the Squire that he

bethought himself of his precaution in time, as you will afterwards

hear.

[46] John Bull, Part IV. ch. ii.

This union of the two entailed properties in the Bull family, brought

Jack and Martin a good deal more into one anothers' company than they

had formerly been; and 'twas clear, that Jack, who had now got somewhat

ashamed of his threadbare raiment, and tired of his spare oatmeal diet,

was mightily struck with the dignified air and comfortable look of

Martin, and grudged him the frequency with which he was invited to

Squire Bull's table. By degrees, he began to conform his own uncouth

manner to an imitation of his. He wore a better coat, which he no longer

rubbed against the wall to take the gloss from off it; he ceased to

interlard all his ordinary speech with texts of Scripture; his snuffle

abated audibly; he gave up his habit of extempore rhapsody, and lost, in

a great measure, his aversion to Christmas tarts and plum-pudding. After

a time, he might even be seen with a fishing-rod over his shoulder; then

he contrived sundry improvements in gun-locks and double-barrels, for

which he took out a patent, and in fact did not entirely escape the

suspicion of being a poacher. He held assemblies in his house, where at

times he allowed a little singing; nay, on one occasion, a son of

his--for he had now a large family--was found accompanying a psalm-tune

upon the (barrel) organ, and it was rumoured about the house, that Jack,

though he thought it prudent to disclaim this overture, had no great

objection to it. Be that as it may, it is certain, that instead of his

old peaked hat and band, Jack latterly took to wearing broad-brimmed

beavers, which he was seen trying to mould into a spout-like shape, much

resembling a shovel. And so far had the transformation gone, that the

Vicar of Fudley, meeting him one evening walking to an assembly arrayed

in a court coat, with this extraordinary hat upon his head, and a pair

of silver buckles in his shoes, pulled off his hat to him at a little

distance, mistaking him for a near relation of Martin, if not for Martin

himself.

There was no great harm you will think in all these whims, and for my

own part, I believe that Jack was never so honest a fellow as he was

during this time, when he was profiting by Martin's example. He kept his

own place, ruling his family in a quiet and orderly way, without

disturbing the peace of his neighbours: and seemed to have forgotten his

old tricks of setting people by the ears, and picking quarrels with

constables and justices of the peace. Howbeit, those who knew him

longest and best, always said that this was too good to last: that with

him these intervals of sobriety and moderation were always the prelude

to a violent access of his peculiar malady, and that by-and-bye he would

break out again, and that there would be the devil to pay, and no pitch

hot.

It so happened that Squire Bull had a good many small village schools on

his Estate of North Farm, to which the former proprietors had always

been in the custom of appointing the ushers themselves; and much to

Jack's annoyance, when Squire Bull succeeded, the latter had taken care

in his bargain with him, to keep the right of appointment to these in

his own hand. But, at the same time, he told Jack fairly, that as he had

no wish to dabble in Latin, Greek, or school learning himself, he left

him at full liberty to say whether those whom he appointed were fit for

the situation or not--so that if they turned out to be ignoramuses,

deboshed fellows, or drunken dogs, Jack had only to say so on good

grounds, and they were forthwith sent adrift. Matters went on for a time

very smoothly on this footing. Nay, it was even said that Jack was

inclined to carry his complaisance rather far, and after a time seldom

troubled himself much about the usher's qualifications, provided his

credentials were all right. He might ask the young fellow, who presented

John's commission, perhaps, what was the first letter of the Greek

alphabet? what was Latin for beef and greens? or where Moses was when

the candle was blown out?--but if the candidate answered these questions

correctly, and if there were no scandal or _fama clamosa_ against him,

as Jack in his peculiar jargon expressed it, he generally shook hands

with him at once, put the key of the schoolhouse in his hand, and told

him civilly to walk up-stairs.

The truth was, however, that in this respect Jack had little reason to

complain; for though the Squire, in the outset, may not have been very

particular as to his choice, and it was said once or twice gave an

ushership to an old exciseman, on account of his skill in mensuration of

fluids, he had latterly become very particular, and would not hear of

settling any body as schoolmaster on North Farm, who did not come to him

with an excellent character, certified by two or three respectable

householders at least. But, strangely enough, it was observed that just

in proportion as the Squire became more considerate, Jack became more

arrogant, pestilent, and troublesome. Now-a-days he was always

discovering some objection to the Squire's appointments: one usher, it

seemed, spoke too low, another too loud, one used an ear-trumpet,

another a pair of grass-green spectacles; one had no sufficient gifts

for flogging; another flogged either too high or too low--(for Jack was

like the deserter, there was no pleasing him as to the mode of

conducting the operation;) and, finally, another was rejected because he

was unacquainted with the vernacular of Ossian--to the great injury and

damage, as was alleged, of two Highland chairmen, who at an advanced

period of life were completing their education in the school in

question. At first Squire Bull, honest gentleman, had given in to these

strange humours on the part of Jack, believing that this new-born zeal

on his part was in the main conscientious, though he could not help

thinking it at times sufficiently whimsical and preposterous. He had

even gone so far, occasionally, as to send Jack a list of those to whom

he proposed giving the usherships, accompanied with a polite note, in

some such terms as these, "Squire Bull presents his respects, and begs

his good friend Jack will read over the enclosed list, and take the

trouble of choosing for himself;" a request with which Jack was always

ready to comply. And, further, as Jack had always a great hankering

after little-goes and penny subscriptions of every kind, and was

eternally trumpeting forth some new nostrum or _scheme_ of this kind, as

he used to call it, the Squire had been prevailed upon to purchase from

him a good many tickets for these schemes from time to time, for which

he always paid in hard cash, though I have never heard that any of them

turned up prizes, except it may have been to Jack himself.

Jack, as we have said, grew bolder as the Squire became more complying,

thinking that, in the matter of these appointments, as he had once got

his hand in, it would be his own fault if he could not contrive to

wriggle in his whole body. It so happened, too, that just about the very

time that one of John's usherships became vacant, one of those

atrabilious and hypochondriac fits came over Jack, with which, as we

have said, he was periodically afflicted, and which, though they

certainly unsettled his brain a little, only served, as in the case of

other lunatics, to render him, during the paroxysm, more cunning,

inventive, and mischievous. After moving about in a moping way for a day

or two--mumbling in corners, and pretending to fall on his knees, in his

old fashion, in the midst of the street, he suddenly got up, flung his

broad-brimmed beaver into the kennel, trampled his wig in the dirt, so

as to expose his large ears as of old, ran home, pulled his rusty black

doublet out of the chest where it had lain for years, squeezing it on as

he best could--for he had got somewhat corpulent in the mean time--and

thus transfigured, he set out to consult the village attorney, with whom

it was observed he remained closeted for several hours, turning over

Burns' Justice, and perusing an office-copy of his indenture with the

Squire--a planetary conjunction from which those who were astrologically

given boded no good.

What passed between these worthies on this occasion--whether the

attorney really persuaded Jack that, if he set about it, he would

undertake to find him a flaw in his contract with Squire Bull, which

would enable him to take the matter of the usherships into his own hand,

and to do as he pleased; or whether Jack--as he seemed afterwards to

admit in private--believed nothing of what the attorney told him, but

was resolved to take advantage of the Squire's good-nature, and to run

all risks as to the result, 'tis hard to say. Certain it was, however,

that Jack posted down at once from the attorney's chamber to the village

school, which happened to be then vacant, and gathering the elder boys

about him, he told them he had reason to believe the Squire was about to

send them another usher, very different from the last, who was a mortal

enemy to marbles, pitch-and-toss, chuck-farthing, ginger-bread, and half

holydays; with a corresponding liking to long tasks and short commons;

that the use of the cane would be regularly taught, along with that of

the globes, accompanied with cuts and other practical demonstrations;

that the only chance of escaping this visitation was to take a bold

line, and show face to the usher at once, since otherwise the chance

was, that at no distant period they might be obliged to do the very

reverse.

Jack further reasoned the matter with the boys learnedly, somewhat in

this fashion--"That as no one could have so strong an interest in the

matter, so no one could be so good a judge of the qualifications of the

schoolmaster as the schoolboy; that the close and intimate relation

between these parties was of the nature of a mutual contract, in the

formation of which both had an equal right to be consulted; so that,

without mutual consent, or, as it were, a harmonious call by the boys,

there could be no valid ushership, but a mere usurpation of the power of

the tawse, and unwarrantable administration of the birchen twig; that,

further, this latter power involved a fundamental feature, in which they

could not but feel they had all a deep interest--and which, he might

say, lay at the bottom of the whole question; that he himself perfectly

remembered that, in former days, the schoolboys had always exercised

this privilege, which he held to be equally salutary and constitutional;

and that he would, at his leisure, show them a private memorandum-book

of his own, in which, though he had hitherto said nothing about it, he

had found an entry to that effect made some thirty years before. In

short, he told them, if they did not wish to be rode over rough-shod,

they must stand up boldly for themselves, and try to get all the schools

in the neighbourhood to join them, if necessary, in a regular

barring-out, or general procession, in which they were to appear with

flags and banners, bearing such inscriptions as the following: "_Pro

aris et focis_"--"Liberty is like the air we breathe," &c. &c., and,

lastly, in large gilt capitals--"_No usher to be intruded into any

school contrary to the will of the scholars in schoolroom assembled_."

And, in short, that this process was to be repeated until they succeeded

in getting quit of Squire Bull's usher, and getting an usher who would

flog them with all the forbearance and reserve with which Sancho

chastised his own flesh while engaged in the process of disenchanting

Dulcinea del Toboso. At the same time, with that cunning which was

natural to him, Jack took care to let the scholars know that _his_ name

was not to be mentioned in the transaction; and that, if they were asked

any questions, they must be prepared to say, nay, to swear, for that

matter, that they objected to John's usher from no personal dislike to

the man himself, and without having received fee or reward, in the shape

of apples, lollypops, gingerbread, barley-sugar, or sweetmeats

whatever--or sixpences, groats, pence, halfpence, or other current coin

of the realm.

It will be readily imagined that this oration of Jack, pronounced as it

was with some of his old unction, and accompanied with that miraculous

and subtle twist of the tongue which we have described in a former

chapter,[47] produced exactly the effect upon his audience which might

be expected. The boys were delighted--tossed up their caps--gave Jack

three cheers, and told him if he stood by them they would stand by him,

and that they were much mistaken if they did not contrive to make the

schoolhouse too hot for any usher whom Squire Bull might think fit to

send them.

[47] Tale of a Tub. Sect. xi.

It happened not long after, as Jack had anticipated, that one morning a

young man called upon with a letter from the Squire, intimating that he

had named him to the vacant ushership; and requesting Jack to examine

into his qualifications as usual. Jack begged him to be seated, and

(having privately sent a message to the schoolboys) continued to

entertain him with enquiries as to John's health and the state of the

weather, till he heard, by the noise in the court, that the boys had

arrived. In they marched accordingly, armed with horn-books, primers,

slates, rulers, Gunter's-scales, and copy-books, taking up their station

near the writing-desk. The young usher-elect, though he thought this a

whimsical exhibition, supposed that the urchins had been brought there

only to do honour to his examination, and accordingly begged Jack, as he

was in a hurry, to proceed. "Fair and softly, young man," said Jack, in

his blandest tones; "we must first see what these intelligent young

gentlemen have got to say to that. Tom, my fine fellow, here is a

gentleman sent by Squire Bull to be your usher. What do you say to him?"

"I don't like him," said Tom. "May I venture to ask why?" said the

usher, putting in a word. "Don't like him," repeated Tom. "Don't like

him neither," said Dick. "And no mistake," added Peter, with a grin,

which immediately circulated round the school. "It is quite impossible,"

said Jack, "under existing circumstances, that the matter can proceed

any further; it is plain the school can never be edified by such an

usher. But, stop, that there may be no misconception on the subject.

Here you, Smith--do you really mean to say, on soul and conscience, you

don't think this respectable gentleman can do you any good?" Of course,

Smith stated that his mind was quite made up on the subject. "Come here,

Jenkins," said Jack, beckoning to another boy; "tell the truth

now--honour bright, remember. Has any body given or promised you any

apples, parliament, or other sweetmeat unknown, to induce you to vote

against the usher?" Jenkins, who had just wiped his lips of the last

remains of a gingerbread cake, which somehow or other had dropped into

his pocket by accident, protested, on his honour, that he was quite

above such a thing, and was, in fact, actuated purely by a conscientious

zeal for the cause of flogging all over the world. "The scruples of

these intelligent and ingenuous youths," said John, turning to the

usher, "must, in conscience, receive effect; the law, as laid down in my

copy of Squire Bull's own contract, is this--'That noe ushere be

yntruded intoe anie schoole against ye wille of ye schooleboys in

schoole-roome assembled.' So, with your permission, we will adjourn the

consideration of the case till the Greek Calends, or latter Lammas, if

that be more convenient." And, so saying, he left John's letter lying on

the table, and shut the schoolroom door in the face of the astonished

usher.

Squire Bull, as may be imagined, was not a little astonished and

mortified at hearing from the usher, who returned looking foolish and

chop-fallen, of this outbreak on the part of Jack, for whom he had

really begun to conceive a sort of sneaking kindness; but knowing of old

his fantastical and melancholic turn, he attributed this sally rather to

the state of his bowels, which at all times he exceedingly neglected,

and which, being puffed up with flatulency and indigestion to an

extraordinary degree, not unfrequently acted upon his brain--generating

therein strange conceits and dangerous hallucinations--than to any

settled intention on Jack's part to pick a quarrel with him or evade

performance of the conditions of their indenture, so long as he was not

under the influence of hypochondria. And having this notion as to Jack's

motives, and knowing nothing of the private confab at the village

lawyer's, he could not help believing that, by a brisk course of

purgatives and an antiphlogistic treatment--and without resorting to a

strait-waistcoat, which many who knew Jack's pranks at once recommended

him to adopt--he might be cured of those acrid and intoxicating vapours,

which, ascending into the brain, led him into such extravagant vagaries.

"I'faith," said the Squire, "since the poor man has taken this mad fancy

into his head as to the terms of his bargain, the best way to restore

him to his senses is to bring the matter, as he himself seemed to desire

it, before the Justices of the Peace at once: 'Tis a hundred to one but

he will have come to his senses long before they have come to a

decision; at all events, unless he is madder than I take him to be, when

he finds how plain the terms of the indenture are, he will surely submit

with a good grace.'"

So thought the Squire; and, accordingly, by his direction, the

usher-elect brought his case before the Justices at their next sittings,

who forthwith summoned Jack before them to know why he refused

performance of his contract with the Squire. Jack came on the day

appointed, attended by the attorney--though for that matter he might

have safely left him behind, being fully as much master of all

equivocation or chicanery as if he had never handled anything but quills

and quirks from his youth upward. This, indeed, was probably the effect

of his old training in Peter's family, for whose hairsplitting

distinctions and Jesuistical casuistries, notwithstanding his dislike to

the man himself, he had a certain admiration, founded on a secret

affinity of nature. Indeed it was wonderful to observe how, with all

Jack's hatred to Peter, real or pretended, he took after him in so many

points--insomuch that at times, their look, voice, manner, and way of

thinking, were so closely alike, that those who knew them best might

very well have mistaken them for each other. The usher having produced

the Squire's copy of the indenture, pointed out the clause by which Jack

became bound to examine and admit to the schools on North Farm any

qualified usher whom the Squire might send--as the condition on which he

was to retain his right to the tabernacle and his own mansion upon the

Farm--at the same time showing Jack's seal and signature at the bottom

of the deed. Jack, being called upon by the justices to show cause,

pulled out of his pocket an old memorandum-book--very greasy, musty, and

ill-flavoured--and which, from the quantity of dust and cobwebs with

which it was overlaid, had obviously been lying on the shelf for half a

century at least. This he placed in the hands of his friend Snacks the

attorney, pointing out to him a page or two which he had marked with his

thumb nail, as appropriate to the matter in hand. And there, to be sure,

was to be found, among a quantity of other nostrums, recipes, cooking

receipts, prescriptions, and omnium-gatherums of all kinds, an entry to

this effect:--"That no ushere be yntruded intoe anie schoole against ye

wille of ye schooleboys in schoole-roome assembled." Whereupon the

attorney maintained, that, as this memorandum-book of Jack's was plainly

of older date than the indenture, and had evidently been seen by the

Squire at or prior to the time of signing, as appeared from some of the

entries which it contained being incorporated in the deed, it must be

presumed, that its whole contents, though not to be found in the

indenture _per expressum_, or _totidem verbis_, were yet included

therein _implicitly_, or in a latent form, inasmuch as they were not

_per expressum_ excluded therefrom;--this being, as you will recollect,

precisely the argument which Jack had borrowed from Peter, when the

latter construed their father's will in the question as to the

lawfulness of their wearing shoulder-knots; and very much of the same

kind with that celebrated thesis which Peter afterwards maintained in

the matter of the brown loaf. And though he was obliged to admit (what

indeed from the very look of the book he could not well dispute) that no

such rule had ever been known or acted upon--and on the contrary that

Jack, until this last occasion, had always admitted the Squire's ushers

without objection whatsoever; yet he contended vehemently, that now that

his conscience was awakened on the subject, the past must be laid out of

view; and that the old memorandum-book, as part and parcel of the

indenture itself, must receive effect; and farther, that whether he,

Jack, was right or wrong in this matter, the Justices had no right to

interfere with them.

But the Justices, on looking into this antiquated document, found that,

besides this notandum, the memorandum-book contained a number of other

entries of a very extraordinary kind--such, for instance, as that Martin

was no better than he should be, and ought to be put down speedily: that

Squire Bull had no more right to nominate ushers than he had to be Khan

of Tartary: that that right belonged exclusively to Jack himself, or to

the schoolboys under Jack's control and direction: that Jack was to have

the sole right of laying down rules for his own government, and of

enforcing them against himself by the necessary compulsitors, if the

case should arise; thus, that Jack should have full powers to censure,

fine, punish, flog, flay, banish, imprison, or set himself in the stocks

as often as he should think fit; but that whether Jack did right or

wrong, in any given case, Jack was himself to be the sole judge, and

neither Squire Bull nor any of his Justices of the Peace was to have one

word to say to him or his proceedings in the matter: on the contrary,

that any such interference on their part, was to be regarded as a high

grievance and misdemeanour on their part, for which Jack was to be

entitled at the least to read them a lecture from the writing-desk, and

shut the schoolroom door in their own or their children's face.

There were many other whimsical and extravagant things contained in this

private note-book, so much so, that it was evident no man in his senses

could ever have intended to make them part of his bargain with Jack. But

the matter was put beyond a doubt by the usher producing the original

draft of the indenture, on which some of these crotchets, including this

fancy about the right of the schoolboys to reject the usher if they did

not like him, had been _interlined_ in Jack's hand: but all of which the

Squire, on revising the deed, had scored out with his own pen, adding in

the margin, opposite to the very passage, the words, in italics--"_See

him damned first.--J.B._" And as it could not be disputed that Jack and

the Squire ultimately subscribed the deed, omitting all this

nonsense--the Justices had no hesitation in holding, that Jack's private

memorandum-book, even if he had always carried it in his breeches

pocket, and quoted it on all occasions, instead of leaving it--as it was

plain he had done--for many a long year, in some forgotten corner of his

trunk or lumber-room, could no more affect the construction of the

indenture between himself and Squire, or afford him any defence against

performance of his part of that indenture, than if he had founded on the

statutes of Prester John, on the laws of Hum-Bug, Fee-Faw-Fum, or any

other Emperor of China for the time being. And so, after hearing very

deliberately all that the attorney for Jack had to say to the contrary,

they decided that Jack must forthwith proceed to examine the usher, and

give him possession, if qualified, of the schoolhouse and other

appurtenances; or else make up his mind to a thundering action of

damages if he did not.

The Justices thought that Jack, on hearing the case fairly stated, and

their opinion given against him, with a long string of cases in point,

would yield, and give the usher possession in the usual way; but no: no

sooner was the sentence written out than Jack entered an appeal to the

Quarter-sessions. There the whole matter was heard over again, at great

length, before a full bench; but after Jack and his attorney had spoken

till they were tired, the Quarter-sessions, without a moment's

hesitation, confirmed the sentence of the Justices, with costs.

Jack, who had blustered exceedingly as to his chances of bamboozling the

Quarter-sessions, and quashing the sentence of the Justices, looked

certainly not a little discomfited at the result of his appeal. For some

days after, he was observed to walk about looking gloomy and

disheartened, and was heard to say to some of his family, that he began

to think matters had really gone too far between him and his good friend

the Squire, to whom he owed his bread; that, on second thoughts, he

would give up the point about intruding ushers on the schools, and see

whether the Squire might not be prevailed on to arrange matters on an

amicable footing; and that he would take an opportunity, the next time

he had an assembly at his house, of consulting his friends on the

subject. And had Jack stuck to this resolution, there is little doubt

that, by some device or other, he would have gained all he wanted; for

the Squire, being an easy, good-natured man, and wishing really to do

his duty in the matter of the ushership, would probably, if Jack had

yielded in this instance with a good grace, have probably allowed him in

the end to have things very much his own way. But to the surprise of

everybody, the next time Jack had a party of friends with him, he rose

up, and putting on that peculiarly sanctimonious expression which his

countenance generally assumed when he had a mind to confuse and mystify

his auditors by a string of enigmas and Jesuitical reservations, made a

long, unintelligible, and inconsistent harangue, the drift of which no

one could well understand, except that it bore that "both the Justices

and the Quarter-sessions were a set of ignoramuses who could not

understand a word of Jack's contract, and knew nothing of black-letter

whatever; but that, nevertheless, as they had decided against him, he,

as a loyal subject, must and would submit;--not, however, that he had

the least idea of taking the Squire's usher, or any other usher

whatsoever, on trials, contrary to the schoolboys' wishes; _that_, he

begged to say, he would never hear of:--still he would obey the law by

laying no claim himself to the usher's salary, nor interfering with the

usher's drawing it; and yet that he could not exactly answer for others

not doing so;"--Jack knowing all the time, that, claim as he might, he

himself had no more right to the salary than to the throne of the

Celestial Empire; while, on the other hand, by locking up the

schoolroom, and keeping the key in his pocket, he had rendered it

impossible for the poor wight of an usher to recover one penny of

it--the legal condition of his doing so being his actual possession of

the schoolhouse itself, of which Jack, by this last manoeuvre, had

contrived to deprive him. But, as if to finish the matter, and to prove

the knavish spirit in which this protestation was made, he instantly got

a _private_ friend and relative of his own, with whom the whole scheme

had been arranged beforehand, to come forward and bring an action on the

case, in which the latter claimed the whole fund which would have

belonged to the unlucky usher--in terms, as he said, of some old

arrangement made by the Squire's predecessor as to school-salaries

during vacancy; to be applied, as the writ very coolly stated it, "for

behoof of Jack's destitute widow, in the event of his decease, and of

his numerous and indigent family."

Many of Jack's own family, who were present on this occasion,

remonstrated with him on the subject, foreseeing that if he went on as

he had begun and threatened to proceed, he must soon come to a rupture

with the Squire, which could end in nothing else than his being turned

out of house and hall, and thrown adrift upon the wide world, without a

penny in his pocket. But the majority--who were puffed up with more than

Jack's own madness and had a notion that by sheer boldness and bullying

on their part, the Squire would, after a time, be sure to give way,

encouraged Jack to go on at all hazards, and not to retract a hair's

breadth in his demands. And Jack, who had now become mischievously

crazed on the subject, and began to be as arrogant and conceited of his

own power and authority, as ever my Lord Peter had been in his proudest

and most pestilential days, was not slow to follow their advice.

'Twas of no consequence that a friend of the Squire's, who had known

Jack long, and had really a great kindness towards him, tried to bring

about an arrangement between him and the Squire upon very handsome

terms. He had a meeting with Jack;--at which he talked the matter over

in a friendly way--telling him that though the Squire must reserve in

his own hands the nomination of his own ushers, he had always been

perfectly willing to listen to reason in any objections that might be

taken to them; only some reason he must have, were it only that Jack

could not abide the sight of a red-nosed usher:--let that reason, such

as it was, be put on paper, and he would consider of it; and if, from

any peculiar idiosyncracy in Jack's temperament and constitution, he

found that his antipathy to red noses was unsuperable, probably he would

not insist on filling up the vacancy with a nose of that colour. Jack,

who was always more rational when alone than when he had got the

attorney and the more frantic members of his family at his elbow,

acknowledged, as he well might, that all this seemed very reasonable;

and that he really thought that on these terms the Squire and he would

have little difficulty in coming to an agreement. So they parted,

leaving the Squire's friend under the impression that all was right, and

that he had only to get an agreement to that effect drawn out, signed

and sealed by the parties.

Next morning, however, he received a letter by the penny-post, written

no doubt in Jack's hand, but obviously dictated by the attorney, in

these terms:--

"Honoured Sir--Lest there should be any misconception between

us as to our yesterday's conversation, I have put into writing

the substance of what was agreed on between us, which I

understand to be this: that there shall be no let or impediment

to the Squire's full and absolute right of naming an usher in

all cases of vacancy; that I shall have an equally full right

to object to the said usher for any reasons that may be

satisfactory to myself, and thereupon to exclude him from the

school; leaving it to the Squire, if he pleases, to send

another, whom I shall have the right of handling in the same

fashion, with this further proviso, that if the Squire does not

fill up the office to my satisfaction within half-a-year, I

shall be entitled to take the appointment into my own hands. I

need hardly add that no Justices of the Peace are to take

cognizance of anything done by me in the matter, be it good,

bad, or indifferent. Hoping that this statement of our mutual

views will be found correct and satisfactory--I remain, your

humble servant,

"JACK."

The moment the Squire's friend perused this missive, he saw plainly that

all hope of bringing Jack to his senses was at an end; and that under

the advice of evil counsellors, lunatic friends, and lewd fellows of the

baser sort, Jack would shortly bring himself and his family to utter

ruin.

And now, as might be expected, Jack's disorder, which had hitherto been

comparatively of the calm and melancholy kind, broke out into the most

violent and phrenetic exhibitions. He sometimes raved incoherently, for

hours together, against the Squire; often, in the midst of his speeches,

he was assailed with epileptic fits, during which he displayed the

strangest contortions and most laughable gestures; he threw entirely

aside the decent coat he had worn for some time back, and habitually

attired himself in the old and threadbare raiment, which he had worn

after he and Martin had been so unceremoniously sent to the right-about

by Lord Peter, and even ran about the streets with his band tied round

his peaked beaver, bearing thereon the motto--"_Nemo me impune

lacessit_." If his madness had only led him to make a spectacle and

laughing-stock of himself, by these wild vagaries and mountebank

exhibitions, all had been well, but this did not satisfy Jack; his old

disposition for a riot had returned, and a riot, right or wrong, he was

determined to have. So he set to work to frighten the women of the

village with stories, as to the monsters whom the Squire would send

among them as ushers, who would do nothing but teach their children

drinking, chuck-farthing, and cock-fighting; to the schoolboys

themselves, talked of the length, breadth, and thickness, of the usher's

birch, which he assured them was dipped in vinegar every evening, in

order to afford a more agreeable stimulus to the part affected; he plied

them with halfpence and strong beer; exhorted them to insurrections and

barrings-out; taught them how to mock at any usher who would not submit

to be Jack's humble servant; and by gibes and scurril ballads, which he

would publish in the newspapers, try to make his life a burden to him.

He also instructed them how best to stick darts into his wig, cover his

back with spittle, fill his pockets with crackers, burn assafoetida in

the fire, extinguish the candles with fulminating powder, or blow up the

writing-desk by a train of combustibles. Above all, he counselled the

urchins to stand firm the next time that John sent an usher down to that

quarter, and vehemently to protest for the doctrine of election as to

their own usher, and reprobation as to the Squire's; assuring them, that

provided they took his advice, and followed the plan which he would

afterwards impart to them in confidence at the proper time, he could

almost take it upon himself to say, that in a short time, no tyrannical

usher, or cast-off tutor of the Squire, should venture to show his face,

with or without tawse or ferule, within the boundaries of North Farm.

It was not long before an opportunity offered of putting these precious

schemes in practice; for shortly afterwards, the old usher of a school

on the northermost boundary of the North Farm estates having died, the

ushership became vacant, and John, as usual, appointed a successor in

his room. Being warned this time by what had taken place on the last

occasion, the Squire took care to apply beforehand to the Justices of

the Peace--got a peremptory _mandamus_ from them, directing Jack to

proceed forthwith, and, after the usual trials, to put the usher in

possession of the schoolhouse by legal form, and without re-regard to

any protest or interruption from any or all of the schoolboys put

together. So down the usher proceeded, accompanied by a posse of

constables and policemen of various divisions, till they arrived at the

schoolhouse, which lay adjacent to the churchyard, and then demanded

admittance. It happened that in this quarter resided some of Jack's

family, who, as we have already mentioned, differed from him entirely,

thinking him totally wrong in the contest with the Squire and being

completely satisfied that all his glosses upon his contract were either

miserable quibbles or mere hallucinations, and that it was his duty, so

long as he ate John's bread, and slept under John's roof, to perform

fairly the obligations he had come under:--and so, on reading the

Justices' warrant, which required them, on pain of being set in the

stocks, and forfeiture of two shillings and sixpence of penalty, besides

costs, to give immediate possession to the Squire's usher, they at once

resolved to obey, called for the key of the schoolhouse, and proceeded

to the door, accompanied by the usher and the authorities, for the

purpose of complying with the warrant and admitting the usher as in

times past. But on arriving there, never was there witnessed such a

scene of confusion. The churchyard was crowded with ragamuffins of every

kind, from all the neighbouring parishes; scarcely was there a sot or

deboshed fellow within the district who had not either come himself or

found a substitute; gipsies, beggarwomen, and thimbleriggers were thick

as blackberries; while Jack himself--who, upon hearing of what was going

forward, had come down by the night coach with all expedition--was

standing on a tombstone near the doorway, and holding forth to the whole

bevy of rascals whom he had assembled about him. It was evident from his

tones and gestures that Jack had been exciting the mob in every possible

way; but as the justices and the constables drew near, he changed the

form of his countenance, pulled a psalm-book out of his pocket, and,

with much sanctity and appearance of calmness, gave out the tune; in

which the miscellaneous assemblage around him joined, with similar

unction and devotion. When the procession reached the door, they found

the whole inside of the schoolhouse already packed with urchins and

blackguards of all kinds, who, having previously gained admission by the

window, had forcibly barricaded the door against the constables, being

assisted in the defence thereof by the mob without, who formed a double

line, and kept hustling the poor usher and the constables from side to

side, helping themselves to a purse or two in passing, and calling out

at the same time, "take care of pickpockets"--occasionally amusing

themselves also by playfully smashing the beaver of some of the justices

of the peace over their face, to the tune of "all round my hat," sung in

chorus, on the Mainzerian system, amidst peals of laughter.

Meantime Jack was skipping up and down upon the tombstone, calling out

to his myrmidons--"Good friends! Sweet friends! Let me not stir your

spirits up to mutiny. Though that cairn of granite stones lies very

handy and inviting, I pray you refrain from it. Touch it not. I humbly

entreat my friend with the dirty shirt not to break the sconce of the

respectable gentleman whom I have in my eye, with that shillelah of

his--though I must admit that he is labouring under strong and just

provocation." "For mercy's sake, my dear sir!" he would exclaim to a

third--"don't push my respected friend the justice into yonder

puddle--the one which lies so convenient on your right hand there;

though, to be sure, the ground _is_ slippery, and the thing _might_

happen, in a manner without any one's being able to prevent it." And so

on he went, taking care to say nothing for which the justices could

afterwards venture to commit him to Bridewell; but, in truth, stirring

up the rabble to the utmost, by nods, looks, winks, and covert speeches,

intended to convey exactly the opposite meaning from what the words

bore.

At last by main force, and after a hard scuffle, the constables

contrived to force the schoolhouse door open, and so to make way for the

justices, the usher, and those of Jack's family who, as we have seen

already, had made up their minds to give the usher possession, to enter.

But having entered, the confusion and bedevilment was ten times worse

than even in the churchyard itself. The benches were lined with a pack

of overgrown rascals in corduroy vestments, and with leather at the

knees, from all the neighbouring villages; in a gallery at one end sat a

Scotch bagpiper, flanked by a blind fiddler, and an itinerant performer

on the hurdygurdy, accompanied by his monkey--who in the course of his

circuit through the village, had that morning received a special

retainer, in the shape of half a quartern of gin, for the occasion;

while in the usher's chair were ensconced two urchins of about fourteen

years of age, smoking tobacco, playing at all fours, and drinking purl,

with their legs diffused in a picturesque attitude along the

writing-desk. One of the justices tried to command silence--till the

Squire's commission to the usher should be read; but no sooner had he

opened his mouth than the whole multitude burst forth as if the

confusion of tongues had taken place for the first time; twenty spoke

together, ten whistled, as many more sang psalms and obscene songs

alternately; the bagpiper droned his worst; the fiddler uttered notes

that made the hair of those who heard them stand on end; while the

hurdygurdy man did his utmost to grind down both his companions, in

which task he was ably assisted by the grinning and chattering of the

honourable and four-footed gentleman on his left. Meantime stones,

tiles, and rafters, pewter pint-pots, fragments of slates, rulers, and

desks, were circulating through the schoolhouse in all directions, in

the most agreeable confusion.

One of the justices tried to speak, but even from the first it was all

dumb show; and scarcely had he proceeded through two sentences, when his

oration was extinguished as suddenly and by the same means as the

conflagration of the Royal Palace at Lilliput. After many attempts to

obtain a hearing, it became obvious that all chance of doing so in the

schoolhouse was at an end; and so the usher, the justices, and the rest,

adjourned to the next ale-house, where they had the usher's commission

quietly read over in presence of the landlord and the waiter, and handed

him over the keys of the house before the same witnesses; of all which,

and of their previous deforcement by a mob of rapscallions, they took

care to have an instrument regularly drawn out by a notary-public.

Thereafter they ordered a rump and dozen, being confident that as the

day was bitterly cold, and the snow some feet deep upon the ground, the

courage of the rioters would be cooled before they had finished dinner;

and so it was, for towards evening, the temperature having descended

considerably beneath the freezing point, the mob, who had now exhausted

their beer and gin, and who saw that there was no more fun to be

expected for the day, began to disperse each man to his home, so that

before nightfall the coast was clear; on which the justices, with the

_posse comitatus_, escorted the usher to the schoolhouse, opened the

door, put him formally in possession, and, wishing him much good of his

new appointment, departed.

But how did Jack, you will ask, bear this rebuff on the part of his own

kin? Why, very ill indeed; in truth, he became furious, and seemed to

have lost all natural feelings towards his own flesh and blood. He

summoned such of his family as had given admission to the usher before

him, called a sort of court-martial of the rest of his relations to

enquire into their conduct; and, notwithstanding the accused protested

that they had the highest respect and regard for Jack, were his humble

servants to command in all ordinary matters, and only acted in this

instance in obedience to the justices' warrant, (the which, if they had

disobeyed, they were certain to have been at that moment cooling their

heels in the stocks,) Jack, who was probably worked up to a kind of

frenzy by his more violent of his inmates, kicked them out of the room,

and sent a set of his myrmidons after them, with instructions to tear

their coats off their backs, strip them of their wigs and small-clothes,

and turn them into the street. Against this the unlucky wights appealed

to the justices for protection, who, to be sure, sent down some

policemen, who beat off the mob, and enabled them to make their doors

fast against Jack and his emissaries. But beyond that they could give

them little assistance; for though Jack and his abettors could not

actually venture upon a trespass by forcing their way within doors, they

contrived to render the very existence of all who were not of their way

of thinking miserable. If it was an usher who, in spite of all their

efforts to exclude him, had fairly got admittance into the schoolhouse,

they set up a sentry-box at his very door, in which a rival usher held

forth on Cocker and the alphabet; they drew off a few stray boys from

the village school, and this detachment, recruited and reinforced by all

the idlers of the neighbourhood, to whom mischief was sport, was

studiously instructed to keep up a perpetual whistling, hooting,

howling, hissing, and imitations of the crowing of a cock, so as to

render it impossible for the usher and boys within the school to hear or

profit by one word that was said. If the scholars within were told to

say A, the blackguards without were bellowing B; or if the usher asked

how many three times three made, the answer from the outside would be

"ten," or else that "it depended upon circumstances." Every week some

ribald and libellous paragraph would appear in the county newspaper,

headed "Advertisement," in such terms as the following:--"We have just

learned from the best authority, that the usher of a school not a

hundred miles off from Hogs-Norton, has lately been detected in various

acts of forgery, petty larceny, sedition, high treason, burglary, &c.

&c. If this report be not officially contradicted by the said usher

within a fortnight, by advertisement, duly inserted and paid for in this

newspaper, we shall hold the same to be true." Or sometimes more

mysteriously thus:--"Delicacy forbids us to allude to the shocking

reports which are current respecting the usher of Mullaglass. Christian

charity would lead us to hope they were unfounded, but Christian verity

compels us to state that we believe every word of them." And though Jack

and his editor sometimes overshot their mark, and got soused in damages

at the instance of those whom they had libelled, yet Jack, who found

that it answered his ends, persevered, and so kept the whole

neighbourhood in hot water.

You would not believe me were I to tell you of half the tyrannical and

preposterous pranks which he performed about this period; but some of

them I can't help noticing. He had picked up some subscriptions, for

instance, from charitable folks in the neighbourhood, to build a school

upon a remote corner of North Farm, where not a single boy had learned

his alphabet within the memory of man; and what, think ye, does he do

with the money, but insists on clapping down the new school exactly

opposite the old school in the village, merely to spite the poor usher,

against whom he had taken a dislike--though there was no more need to

build a school there than to ship a cargo of coals for Newcastle. Again,

having ascertained that one of his servants had been seen shaking hands

with some of Jack's family with whom he had quarrelled as above

mentioned, he refused to give him a character, though the poor fellow

was only thinking of taking service somewhere in the plantations.

Notwithstanding all Jack's efforts, however, it sometimes happened that

when an usher was appointed he could not get up a sufficient cabal

against him, and that even the schoolboys, knowing something of the man

before, had no objection to him. In such cases Jack resorted to various

schemes in order to cast the candidate upon his examinations. Sometimes

he would shut him up in a small closet, telling him he must answer a

hundred and fifty questions, in plane and spherical trigonometry, within

as many minutes, and that he would be allowed the assistance of

Johnson's Dictionary, and the _Gradus ad Parnassum_, for the purpose. At

other tines he would ask the candidate, with a bland smile, what was his

opinion of things in general, and of the dispute between him (Jack) and

the Squire in particular; and if that question was not answered to his

satisfaction, he remitted him to his studies. When no objection could be

made to the man's parts, Jack would say that he had scruples of

conscience, because he doubted whether his commission had been fairly

come by, or whether he had not bribed the Squire by a five-pound note to

obtain it. At last he did not even take the trouble of going through

this farce, but would at once, if he disliked the look of the man's

face, tell him he was busy at the moment;--that he might lay the

Squire's letter on the table, and call again that day six months for an

answer. He no longer pretended, in fact, to any fairness or justice in

his dealings; for though those who sided with him might be guilty of all

the offences in the calendar, Jack continued to wink so hard, and shut

his ears so close, as not to see or hear of them; while as to the

unhappy wights who differed from him, he had the eyes of Argus and the

ear of Dionysius, and the tender mercies of a Spanish inquisitor,

discovering _scandalum magnatum_ and high treason in ballads which they

had written twenty years before, and in which Jack, though he received a

presentation copy at the time, had never pretended, up to that moment,

to detect the least harm.

The last of these freaks which I shall here mention took place on this

wise. Jack had never been accustomed to invite any one to his assemblies

but the ushers who had been appointed by the Squire, and it was always

understood that they alone had a vote in all vestry matters. But when

John quarrelled with his family, as above mentioned, and a large part of

the oldest and most respectable of his relatives drew off from him, it

occurred to Jack that he could bring in a set of new auxiliaries, upon

whose vote he could count in all his family squabbles, or his deputes,

with Squire Bull; and the following was the device he fell upon for that

end.

Here and there upon North Farm, where the village schools were crowded,

little temporary schoolhouses had been run up, where one or two of the

monitors were accustomed to teach such of the children as could not be

accommodated in the larger school. But these assistants had always been

a little looked down upon, and had never been allowed a seat at Jack's

board. Now, however, he began to change his tone towards them, and to

court and flatter them on all occasions. One fine morning he suddenly

made his appearance on the village green, followed by some of his

hangers on, bearing a theodolite, chains, measuring rods, sextants,

compasses, and other instruments of land-surveying. Jack set up his

theodolite, took his observations, began noting measurements, and laying

down the bases of triangles in all directions, then, having summed up

his calculations with much gravity, gave directions to those about him

to line off with stakes and ropes the space which he pointed out to

them, and which in fact enclosed nearly half the village. In the course

of these operations, the usher, who had witnessed these mathematical

proceedings of Jack from the window, but could not comprehend what the

man would be at, sallied forth, and accosting Jack, asked him what he

meant by these strange lines of circumvallation. "Why," answered Jack,

"I have been thinking for some time past of relieving you of part of

your heavy duties, and dividing the parish-school between you and your

assistant; so in future you will confine yourself to the space outside

the ropes, and leave all within the inclosure to him." It was in vain

that the usher protested he was quite equal to the duty; that the boys

liked him, and disliked his assistant; that if the village was thus

divided, the assistant would be put upon a level with him, and have a

vote in the vestry, to which he had no more right than to a seat in the

House of Commons. Jack was not to be moved from his purpose, but gave

orders to have a similar apportionment made in most of the neighbouring

villages, and then inviting the assistants to a party at his house, he

had them sworn in as vestrymen, telling them, that in future they had

the same right to a seat at his board as the best of John's ushers had.

Here again, however, he found he had run his head against a wall, and

that he was not the mighty personage he took himself for; for, on a

complaint to the justices of the peace, a dozen special constables were

sent down, who tore up the posts, removed the ropes, and demolished all

Jack's inclosures in a trice.