In ancient times the affairs of this parish were administered by a Court-Baron, in which the freeholders were judges; and the rates were levied by select vestries of the inhabitant householders.But at length these good customs fell into disuse.
The Lords of the Manor, indeed, still held courts for form's sake; but they or their stewards had the whole management of affairs.They demanded services, duties, and customs to which they had no just title.Nay, they would often bring actions against their neighbours for their own private advantage, and then send in the bill to the parish.No objection was made, during many years, to these proceedings, so that the rates became heavier and heavier: nor was any person exempted from these demands, except the footmen and gamekeepers of the squire and the rector of the parish.They indeed were never checked in any excess.They would come to an honest labourer's cottage, eat his pancakes, tuck his fowls into their pockets, and cane the poor man himself.If he went up to the great house to complain, it was hard to get the speech of Sir Lewis; and, indeed, his only chance of being righted was to coax the squire's pretty housekeeper, who could do what she pleased with her master.If he ventured to intrude upon the Lord of the Manor without this precaution, he gained nothing by his pains.Sir Lewis, indeed, would at first receive him with a civil face; for, to give him his due, he could be a fine gentleman when he pleased."Good day, my friend," he would say, "what situation have you in my family?" "Bless your honour!" says the poor fellow, "I am not one of your honour's servants; I rent a small piece of ground, your honour." "Then, you dog," quoth the squire, "what do you mean by coming here? Has a gentleman nothing to do but to hear the complaints of clowns? Here! Philip, James, Dick, toss this fellow in a blanket; or duck him, and set him in the stocks to dry."One of these precious Lords of the Manor enclosed a deer-park;and, in order to stock it, he seized all the pretty pet fawns that his tenants had brought up, without paying them a farthing, or asking their leave.It was a sad day for the parish of St Dennis.Indeed, I do not believe that all his oppressive exactions and long bills enraged the poor tenants so much as this cruel measure.
Yet for a long time, in spite of all these inconveniences, St Dennis's was a very pleasant place.The people could not refrain from capering if they heard the sound of a fiddle.And, if they were inclined to be riotous, Sir Lewis had only to send for Punch, or the dancing dogs, and all was quiet again.But this could not last forever; they began to think more and more of their condition; and, at last, a club of foul-mouthed, good-for-nothing rascals was held at the sign of the Devil, for the purpose of abusing the squire and the parson.The doctor, to own the truth, was old and indolent, extremely fat and greedy.He had not preached a tolerable sermon for a long time.The squire was still worse; so that, partly by truth and partly by falsehood, the club set the whole parish against their superiors.
The boys scrawled caricatures of the clergyman upon the church-door, and shot at the landlord with pop-guns as he rode a-hunting.It was even whispered about that the Lord of the Manor had no right to his estate, and that, if he were compelled to produce the original title-deeds, it would be found that he only held the estate in trust for the inhabitants of the parish.
In the meantime the squire was pressed more and more for money.
The parish could pay no more.The rector refused to lend a farthing.The Jews were clamorous for their money; and the landlord had no other resource than to call together the inhabitants of the parish, and to request their assistance.They now attacked him furiously about their grievances, and insisted that he should relinquish his oppressive powers.They insisted that his footmen should be kept in order, that the parson should pay his share of the rates, that the children of the parish should be allowed to fish in the trout-stream, and to gather blackberries in the hedges.They at last went so far as to demand that he should acknowledge that he held his estate only in trust for them.His distress compelled him to submit.They, in return, agreed to set him free from his pecuniary difficulties, and to suffer him to inhabit the manor-house; and only annoyed him from time to time by singing impudent ballads under his window.
The neighbouring gentlefolks did not look on these proceedings with much complacency.It is true that Sir Lewis and his ancestors had plagued them with law-suits, and affronted them at county meetings.Still they preferred the insolence of a gentleman to that of the rabble, and felt some uneasiness lest the example should infect their own tenants.
A large party of them met at the house of Lord Caesar Germain.
Lord Caesar was the proudest man in the county.His family was very ancient and illustrious, though not particularly opulent.
He had invited most of his wealthy neighbours.There was Mrs Kitty North, the relict of poor Squire Peter, respecting whom the coroner's jury had found a verdict of accidental death, but whose fate had nevertheless excited strange whispers in the neighbourhood.There was Squire Don, the owner of the great West Indian property, who was not so rich as he had formerly been, but still retained his pride, and kept up his customary pomp; so that he had plenty of plate but no breeches.There was Squire Von Blunderbussen, who had succeeded to the estates of his uncle, old Colonel Frederic Von Blunderbussen, of the hussars.The colonel was a very singular old fellow; he used to learn a page of Chambaud's grammar, and to translate Telemaque, every morning, and he kept six French masters to teach him to parleyvoo.
Nevertheless he was a shrewd clever man, and improved his estate with so much care, sometimes by honest and sometimes by dishonest means, that he left a very pretty property to his nephew.