The Man in Black: An Historical Novel of the Days of Queen AnneJames, G. P. R. (George Payne Rainsford)
History
The Man in Black: An Historical Novel of the Days of Queen Anne
James, G. P. R. (George Payne Rainsford)
Great Britain -- History -- Anne, 1702-1714 -- Fiction
Landlords in England at that time--I mean, of course, in country
towns--were very different in many respects, and of a different class
from what they are at present. In the first place, they were not fine
gentlemen: in the next place, they were not discharged valets de
chambre, or butlers, who, having cheated their masters handsomely, and
perhaps laid them under contribution in many ways, retire to enjoy the
fat things at their ease in their native town. Then, again, they were
on terms of familiar intercourse with two or three classes, completely
separate and distinct from each other--a sort of connecting link
between them. At their door the justice of the peace, the knight of
the shire, the great man of the neighborhood, dismounted from his
horse, and had his chat with mine host. There came the village lawyer
when he had gained a cause, or won a large fee, or had been paid a
long bill, to indulge in his pint of sherry, and gossipped, as he
drank it, of all the affairs of his clients. There sneaked in the
Doctor to get his glass of eau de vie, or plague water, or aqua
mirabilis, or strong spirits, in short of any other denomination, and
tell little dirty anecdotes of his cases, and his patients. There the
alderman, the wealthy shop-keeper, and the small proprietor, or the
large farmer, came to take his cheerful cup on Saturdays or on
market-day. But, besides these, the inn was the resort, though
approached by another door, of a lower and a poorer class, with whom
the landlord was still upon as good terms as with the others. The
wagoner, the carter, the lawyer's and the banker's clerk, the shopman,
the porter even, all came there; and it mattered not to Mr. Cherrydew
or his confraternity, whether it was a bowl of punch, a draught of
ale, a glass of spirits, or a bottle of old wine that his guests
demanded; he was civil, and familiar, and chatty with them all.
Thus under the rosy and radiant face of Mr. Cherrydew, and in that
good, round, fat head, was probably accumulated a greater mass of
information, regarding the neighborhood in which he lived, and all
that went on therein, than in any other head, in the whole town, and
the only difficulty was to extract that part of the store which was
wanted.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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