Great Britain -- History -- 19th century -- Fiction; Peddlers -- Fiction; Riots -- England -- Fens, The -- Fiction
The day was Sunday, so no work was being done. There were idlers
everywhere, specially on the ice. In present days there is little
church-going in the Fens, in former days there was none. Churches are
few and far apart. In mediæval times the monks of Ely had chapels on
every islet that rose a few feet above the meres, and they boated from
one to another, gathering around them for divine service and moral
instruction the aquatic population of the Fens. With the Reformation
these chapels were let fall into ruin, and care for the souls of the
fen-dwellers ceased. The canons of the cathedral were wealthy and idle,
and it never so much as occurred to their sleepy, stagnant consciences
that they had duties to perform towards the inhabitants of the district
whence they drew their revenues.
When the meres were dried, and settlers occupied the drained land, then
the parochial clergy were unable to cope with the altered condition
of affairs. The roads were impassable, the distances enormous, their
incomes had not increased with the alteration in the value of the lands
included in their vast parishes. Consequently, the fen-folk came to
think little of their religious duties. The church towers might serve
as landmarks, but the church pastors were not spiritual guides. The
only form of religion that commended itself to an amphibious population
was Anabaptism, and that mainly because it consisted of a good souse in
fen-water. A few of the sterner spirits settled into the sect, but the
bulk of the natives grew up and lived without any religion at all; or,
if they professed to be Christians, they took care to allow it in no
way to interfere with their profits or their pleasures.
The assemblage about the mill consisted of labouring men and their
wives; some were in their Sunday clothes, but others had not taken the
trouble to 'clean' themselves. Such were the men who lounged about on
holidays with springes and nets in their pockets, and a gun barrel up
the left sleeve.
A stool was planted close to the mill, and on it stood a young man with
high cheek-bones, long dark hair, and glittering eyes under heavy,
bushy brows. He had unusually lengthy arms, and at the extremities of
the arms unusually broad, flat hands. These he flourished about. He
drew in his elbows to his sides, and emphasised an appeal by suddenly
throwing out his arms and extending his fingers. Having his back to the
mill, which was constructed of boards, what he said was audible to some
distance. The boards served as reverberators.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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