Domestic fiction; England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Family -- England -- Fiction
A regiment containing two old schoolmates of his was at Bristol, and he
spent a good deal of time there, and also in Yeomanry drill. As autumn
came on we rejoiced in having so stalwart a protector, for the
agricultural riots had begun, and the forebodings of another French
Revolution seemed about to be realised. We stayed on at Chantry House.
My father thought his duty lay there as a magistrate, and my mother would
not leave him; nor indeed was any other place much safer, certainly not
London, whence Clarence wrote accounts of formidable mobs who were
expected to do more harm than they accomplished; though their hatred of
the hero of our country filled us with direful prognostications, and made
us think of the guillotine, which was linked with revolution in our
minds, before we had I beheld the numerous changes that followed upon the
thirty years of peace in which we grew up.
The ladies did not much like losing so stalwart a defender when Griff
returned to Oxford; and Jane the housemaid went to bed every night with
the pepper-pot and a poker, the first wherewith to blind the enemy, the
second to charge them with. From our height we could more than once see
blazing ricks, and were glad that the home farm was not in our own hands,
and that our only stack of hay was a good way from the house. When the
onset came at last, it was December, and the enemy only consisted of
about thirty dreary-looking men and boys in smock-frocks and chalked or
smutted faces, armed only with sticks and an old gun diverted from its
purpose of bird-scaring. They shouted for food, money, and arms; but my
father spoke to them from the hall steps, told them they had better go
home and learn that the public-house was a worse enemy to them than any
machine that had ever been invented, and assured them that they would get
no help from him in breaking the laws and getting themselves into
trouble. A stone or two was picked up, whereupon he went back and had
the hall door shut and barred, the heavy shutters of the windows having
all been closed already, so that we could have stood a much more severe
siege than from these poor fellows. One or two windows were broken, as
well as the glass of the conservatory, and the flower beds were trampled;
but finding our fortress impregnable they sneaked away before dark. We
fared better than our neighbours, some of whom were seriously frightened,
and suffered loss of property. Old Mr. Fordyce had for many years past
been an active magistrate—that a clergyman should be on the bench having
been quite correct according to the notions of his younger days; and in
spite of his beneficence he incurred a good deal of unpopularity for
withstanding the lax good-nature which made his brother magistrates give
orders for parish relief refused to able-bodied paupers by their own
Vestries. This was a mischievous abuse of the old poor-law times, which
made people dispose of every one’s money save their own. He had also
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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