Crying for the Light; Or, Fifty Years Ago. Vol. 3 [of 3]Ritchie, J. Ewing (James Ewing)
General
Crying for the Light; Or, Fifty Years Ago. Vol. 3 [of 3]
Ritchie, J. Ewing (James Ewing)
England -- Social conditions -- 19th century -- Fiction
‘Actresses,’ continued the Colonel’s lady, ‘are not particular sort of
people, and newspaper writers are not much better, I believe. I can’t
think how old county families can be civil to them. In my young days
such an idea would have been scouted, and I must say then they knew their
place. My papa helped the local printer to start a paper on condition
that it was to support Church and State. Occasionally my papa had the
man up in the Castle, and would sit down to a bottle of port with him,
but he never took any notice of him elsewhere, nor ever introduced him to
his family. I believe the man was a very respectable tradesman. He was
regular in his attendance at church, and always stood by our family in
election contests; but the modern literary man gives himself the most
ridiculous airs, fancies he is a genius because he can scribble, and that
he can wield the destinies of the nation because he is connected with
some low paper. I hear he belongs to clubs, and goes into society just
as if he were a gentleman. Every time,’ added the lady piteously, ‘every
time that I take up an English newspaper, I see the country going to the
bad, the people more intolerant of good government, the upper classes
more careless as to the future, recklessly acting in accordance with the
motto, “Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die.” The Sunday is
desecrated by all classes, and the Lord will have no pity in the day of
His wrath for Sabbath-breakers. The philosophers are in favour of
Godless education, and now they tell me there are people who argue that
Atheists have a right to sit in a Christian Parliament. Oh dear! the
vials of God’s wrath will soon be flung down upon that unhappy country.
The signs of the times tell us that we have reached the beginning of the
end. There will be weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth, and the
day of the Lord shall come.’
The gallant Colonel was accustomed to that sort of thing, and took it
calmly. Whether he believed what his wife said I don’t know. He always
acted as if he did; never contradicted her, as he had found that to be no
use; attended her to church, sat out with well-bred polish the dreary
minutes devoted to staring the domestics out of countenance called family
prayers. He was always ready at his wife’s bidding to attend
Bible-readings for the select few, and when joked on the subject by his
chums, if he had any at his club, never gave railing for railing, but
took it as if it was a cross laid on him to bear.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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