_How sister =Peg= began to look about her; and how she wrote a letter
to her brother =John=._
Many were the freaks which John had taken in his head at different
times: he once thought of turning lawyer, as every body knows; but
he now despised that and every other profession, and would be nothing
less than a duke or a lord. He thought that he only wanted a suitable
estate to maintain his dignity, and encouraged every scheme that was
laid before him for acquiring it. He had, accordingly, twenty proposals
brought him every day in writing by Jowler, all entitled, “Speedy and
easy methods of acquiring a great land estate, humbly addressed to John
Bull, Esq;” Islands were to be seized here and there by main force;
the whole common was to be inclosed, without enquiring who had a right
there; plantations were to be cut down, and sent to market; farms were
to be let to tenants that John could confide in, and every door was to
be chalked with John Bull’s name in great letters.
Why should not I, says he, have a great estate, as well as another?
Every body knows, that Lewis did not come honestly by all he has, yet
the rogue is never the worse esteemed in the neighbourhood.
Whilst John’s head was busied with these hopeful projects, the news
came that Lewis Baboon was coming in earnest. John looked like a person
just awake from his first sleep, and made some motions towards the
back-door, before he recollected that he had some guns ready in the
hall, and that he and his people must be affronted for ever, if they
did not pluck up their spirits. He saw a good many of his people ready
to stand by him, and the blood returned to his face; the game-keepers
were all brought into the yard; and the nurse herself was then glad to
see as many of John’s people in arms as possible; the watermen were
sent out in the barge to meet Lewis Baboon; and John, in short, passed
the night, as easily as could be expected of a man in his situation.
It is an old saying, Every man for himself, and God for us all. John in
his hurry, barricading his doors, and posting his people, forgot his
sister Margaret altogether. There was, indeed, a game-keeper lodged
in her house, but this poor fellow could scarcely pretend to secure
one door, and Lewis had twenty methods of coming into her house, where
there was neither lock nor latch, nor a single pistol to resist any
body, that should attempt to force his way; and the worst on’t was,
that Lewis had sent a sculler, with some of his game-keepers boys, to
take advantage of this situation. What could a poor woman do? the maids
and the children screamed in every corner of the house, and Jowler sent
a gun to Mac Lurchar, as if Peg’s garret was the only place exposed,
and left her pantry and her cellar to take care of themselves.
Many people in the house were of opinion, that she should write
immediately to her brother John, to represent her case, and put him
in mind, that when she trusted her affairs to the management of his
clerks, it was in hopes that her concerns would be equally looked
after with his own. Jack, who by this time had sown his wild oats,
and was grown an orderly conversable fellow as you would desire to
see, was clear for writing this letter. “From the little I have seen
of this troublesome neighbourhood,” says he, “I am convinced that no
family is safe from ill neighbours, and thievish servants, without the
master and his children can take care of themselves. _As arrows are
in the hands of a mighty man_, says the Psalmist, _so are children
of the youth. Happy the man that hath his quiver full of them: they
shall not be ashamed, but speak with the enemies in the gate._ That
is the true defence,” says Jack, “and let us have it. A game-keeper
may be out of the way, but the child of the house is always by his
father’s side.” In short, as he was no trifler, so he was seldom idle,
when there was any thing of consequence to be done, and never minded
whether his opinion was asked or no. He spoke loudly on this occasion,
and as he kept a regular correspondence with Sir Thomas, never failed
to tell him his mind. Peg herself, who, as we have said, was rather
gentle and inoffensive in her ordinary deportment, gave some signs of
discontent and vexation; you could see a little fierceness return to
her eye, and the affection and confidence with which she had always of
late regarded her brother, perhaps, at this time helped to augment her
displeasure. It is a grievous thing to be neglected by people to whom
we make advances of kindness and respect: this, however, did not extort
from her any injurious terms to her brother. If there was a cloud, it
was readier to break upon his enemies head than on his. The truth is,
that instead of having that waspish cross disposition, which she had
often discovered in her youth, she now needed some encouragement and
spiriting up, to be able to defend her own. This did not hinder many
people from thinking her greatly improved; she had, indeed, more bloom
in her complexion, or was rather less pale than formerly, and was
what you may call a tight comely woman to converse with, rather than
one of your delicate beauties. But be her person what it would, it was
necessary to defend her house and her children; and people told her,
that if she would write to her brother, he would not hesitate a moment
about putting it in her power to do so. Peg was not near so ready in
taking resolutions as she used to be, when left entirely to shift for
herself; and even so small a matter as writing a letter, she put off
from day to day; at last, she got up one morning very early, and with
the assistance of some of her children and relations, drew up a scroll
of the following letter, which was afterwards copied out fair, and sent
by a careful person to her brother.
_A copy of Margaret’s letter to her brother =John=._
“My dear Brother,
“It was with great pleasure that I heard lately from people who
frequent your house, that you had taken a resolution not to depend
any longer upon Nicholas Frog or Rousterdivel for your defence; that
you had collected your spirit very opportunely, and have since found
yourself fortified, by what is the real strength of every family, the
affection and vigour of your own children. My heart warmed to the
prospect of finding myself in the same situation, and I could have
almost wished for an opportunity to see your children and mine fairly
united, against some common oppressor, a case in which I hope they
will always be invincible. But whatever my situation may be, I do not
repine at your prosperity. Our interests, indeed, are unseparable, and
I cannot be persuaded, when matters go well with you, that they can, at
the long run, go ill with me or my family. This made me bear patiently
with your people’s neglect of me, when they ordered your family into
a posture of defence; and indeed, unless it had come of yourself at
that time, I was unwilling to have any matter started, which might have
embarassed you in what you was about, by furnishing, as I was told it
might do, the people who were disposed to cross you, with arguments
against your scheme. Those gentlemen, it seems, have a language ready
prepared with respect to me, but I enter into no contentions with
them. It seems that words have their weight after their meaning has
ceased to be believed. It is in this way only, that I can understand,
why a suspicion thrown upon me in words should be regarded, whilst
your servants in my own sight, carry arms to Mac Lurchar, the only
person almost whom you or I have reason to distrust. I do not condemn
that proceeding of yours; it is an instance of your openness and
good-nature, and I believe has met with a fellow, who has the heart to
stand by his friends, and who, if properly directed, will fight for you
and me, rather than for any body else.
“But whatever my reasons were, for delaying to put you and Mrs. Bull
in mind of me, I cannot, in justice to my own family, delay it any
longer. Your prosperity I shall always consider as my own; but there
are certain distinctions, which if borne in silence by me, must, even
in your own opinion, render me unworthy of the relation I bear to you.
You used to call me proud. I wish I may not have erred on the other
extreme. When you cease to be proud, I shall not esteem my brother
the more. But whatever weaknesses I may have, how could you for a
moment think of reducing me to the necessity of asking as a favour,
what is the birth-right of all mankind, liberty to defend myself? I
was possessed of this liberty, before I entrusted my affairs to the
management of your servants; and if you and I both afterwards ceased
to use it, that part of our history, perhaps, had better be past in
silence. It never occurred to me, that you might perhaps resume it
yourself, without offering it to me.
“If a partial distribution of arms in your own family alarmed you, as
it must do every man of common reason, what must I think? the only
person to whom the means of self-defence are denied, whilst I am
surrounded on every hand, by those who carry a badge of superiority,
more certain than scepters or empty pageantry. If my neighbours are at
variance, whoever is uppermost, it seems, I must be at under, a poor
tame drudge, unable to keep my own, or assist my friends.
“I should tire you, if I was to say every thing that occurs to me on
this alarming subject, and upon an occasion which would justify greater
degrees of impatience, than I have hitherto expressed. When I think,
that the very enemy against whom your people have taken such care to
secure themselves, is now hovering about my doors, where he is sure
neither to find lock nor bar, nor a single musket to oppose his entry,
I may well lose my patience, and wish at least to hear the cause of
this difference explained.
“I shall direct my own people with you, how to act upon this occasion;
and I must beg the favour, that you will assist in procuring me
directions how to proceed in warding off the blow, with which I am now
threatened; or let me know where I am to find bread for my children, if
what I have within my doors is the property of every fool, who may be
disposed to take it.
“I am,
with the sincerest esteem
and affection, yours, &c.
“MARGARET.”
This letter had a tone of impatience, perhaps, because it was the
sudden burst of a sentiment, which Margaret had been at some pains to
stifle. She meant, as historians affirm, only to speak of the present
alarm; yet she broke into the subject at once, and then was almost
ashamed to own, that she or her children were afraid of Lewis Baboon’s
scurvy waterman, though, to say the truth, she could then have made no
defence.