CHAPTER IX.

Libels and licentious discourses against the state, when they are frequent and open; and in like sort false news often running up and down to the disadvantage of the state, and hastily embraced, are among the signs of troubles.

LORD BACON.

It is now necessary to relate the march of events up to this period. General Mapleton, in reply to the letter which Warenne had addressed him on his return from Fisherton, requesting that he might be allowed to send an increased force to that place, returned a most dry and positive negative. His answer was to the effect,—that he was very sorry to receive from Colonel Warenne such a proof of the disaffected spirit which prevailed in the district to the command of which he had been appointed by his majesty, but that being responsible for the employment of the troops under his orders, he must be permitted to station them in such manner, and in such numbers, as in his own judgment he considered best for the interests of the country; and that he must desire Colonel Warenne would on no account detach from himself a larger force than that which he had authorised. It was his wish that Colonel Warenne should send one troop to Fisherton and another to Charnstead, or some place midway between Fisherton and Calbury, and that at the expiration of every month the Fisherton troop should return to head quarters of the regiment, and the Charnstead troop move on to Fisherton. “In conclusion,” wrote the general, “I must particularly request that Colonel Warenne will on no account alter these arrangements, nor absent himself from the quarters of his regiment without leave.”

The soreness and readiness to take umbrage evident throughout this letter gave much disturbance to Warenne, who had written to the general in the fullness of his heart, and with the sincere wish of setting him on his guard against times of peril; but he was too sensible a man, and too zealous an officer, to suffer his uneasiness to be seen even by his most intimate associates. He resolved diligently to conform to the orders he had received, and was really anxious that they might prove effectual. In truth, the general, though the principal motive for his refusal had been a low jealousy of Warenne’s European honours, was not without reasons for the negative which he had sent. Much about this time reports came in almost daily from the surrounding villages that the labourers were using threatening language to the farmers, insisting upon an increase of wages, and upon the demolition of their threshing machines; that they threatened to pull down and burn the machines of those who would not comply with the demands; and that the farmers in consequence were in a state of great alarm. Some had yielded to the demands of the rioters, partly from fear, and partly also from an idea that they might make their sufferings a plea for a diminution of rent and tithes—others again had resisted them; but the cunning or cowardice of the former had added exasperation to the anger of the peasantry against the latter, so as to put an end to all feeling of security with regard to life and property. It was said, also, that there were assemblages every evening round the alehouse-doors, where orators in clouted shoes and smock frocks held forth upon the rights of men; while there were not wanting persons who came from “no one knew where,” to inculcate the same doctrines with more force and greater dexterity—men, who from their education were enabled to make the worse appear the better reason, and heighten the evil passions that were abroad. Thanks, however, to the vigilance of the magistrates, who were not afraid to employ the civil power, now that they were backed by a military force, all these evil signs ended without disturbance. There might be a drunken riot or so; but the mobs uniformly dispersed, as the effect of the intoxicating liquors by which they were excited wore off, or, as Nanny Rudd expressed herself to Frank, “as the beer died in them.”

About this time also occurred an event, which, though not of immediate importance to the story, is interesting as characteristic of the period. The two brothers and Henry were engaged to dine at Epworth. Dinner was served, but Frank and Henry did not make their appearance. At last, but not before the party assembled had become exceedingly anxious for their arrival, they came in, heated and agitated.

“What can make you so late?” asked Adelaide; “you must have finished shooting several hours ago.”

Henry did not answer; but Frank said, “We must, I suppose, confess—we have had a row with some poachers.”

“Good heavens! you are neither of you hurt, I hope,” asked Adelaide again, in alarm.

“Oh no,” replied Frank, laughing, “not in person, at all events, though in honour.”

“What has happened is this,” interrupted Henry. “We had been shooting in that large wood of yours which adjoins the road leading to Charnstead, and having given our guns to the keepers, were on our return home; that is to say, were walking back through the wood to the Dolphin to get our horses. We had left our game in one of the rides through which we had to pass; when we arrived at the spot we found a party of men quietly filling a light cart with it. For a moment we thought they might be some of our beaters, but finding our mistake, we called to them, and ran up to arrest their proceedings; in an instant we were surrounded, thrown to the ground, and kept there until they had finished packing the cart, when, politely thanking us for our good-nature in shooting for them, off they all went into the high road.”

“In short,” said Frank, “never did two officers in his majesty’s service suffer a worse defeat or greater disgrace.”

This incident alarmed not only Adelaide and Lord Framlingham, but also the surrounding neighbours. So gross and deliberate an outrage destroyed all feeling of security, and though every attempt was made to trace its perpetrators, they could not be discovered.

Warenne argued that it had been committed by some of the people who were endeavouring but too successfully to excite disturbances in the country; for that their calmness in the execution of their scheme betrayed consciousness of power. “If they had thrashed you,” said he to Frank, “and left you half dead, I should have considered the whole as the action of common poachers, determined not to be taken nor detected.”

Frank was thankful that “his friends,” as he termed them, were such a superior style of men, considering the disadvantage at which they had Henry and himself,—though doubtless it would have been better for the nation, had it been otherwise. By no party, however, was light ever thrown upon the transaction.

These various signs of the prevailing disaffection among the peasantry occupied much of Warenne’s time and attention, and his anxiety was increased by his receiving from Seaforth a fearful account of the state of the neighbourhood of Fisherton. Seaforth had attempted, in conformity to the proposal previously made by him, to converse with those individuals whom he suspected to be implicated in the conspiracy which evidently existed; but they had refused to listen to him, and had even insulted him, giving him to understand that his every movement was closely watched.

Under these circumstances Warenne again petitioned for an increase of force at Fisherton. Again General Mapleton returned him an answer in the negative—if possible, couched in yet more peremptory language than he had hitherto used. Still no actual riot took place either at the one place or the other, and Warenne began to hope that the winter would pass over without further disturbance. These fallacious expectations lasted but for a day or two. All at once, on every wall throughout Calbury, and the neighbouring villages, appeared chalked up—“Bread or blood,”—“Liberty or death,” and similar short expositions of the popular feelings.

Nanny Rudd also warned Frank that some project was on foot, though she could not yet discover the particulars of it. Warenne patiently waited for further information, which at last he obtained through the means of his brother’s faithful ally.

“Captain, dear,” said Nanny to Frank, as he passed her one morning on his way to the stables, “you may just bid your men stand at ease, if you mean to stay at Calbury; there will be no row here. It’s the coast you must look to! Last night some strangers came into my brother’s with two of the Rusbrook men, who fit agen the ’Stabulary t’other day, and they were talking how they had managed finely, and frightened you all so, that you dare not move a foot from home. Dare not! the blackguards! As if they knew the soul of a jintleman soldier. And then they cast up, that they should have it all their own way where they were going, for that the whole county was ready to join them,—let alone quite a raal army of smugglers. Them’s a bad set, my dear captain,—particular bad,—they wouldn’t drink none, but seemed to think only of killing and plundering; and when my brother came in, they was as hush! They’d talk afore me, a poor old blind body, as they thought couldn’t move off my settle without help, but they wouldn’t open their ’tato traps afore him. Publicans must look to their licence, says they! you’ll see that afore long there will be an outbreak towards the coast. One rascal said roundly, ‘We’ll give ’em some bonfires before the fifth of November this year.’”

These indications of the popular feeling were further accompanied by acts of incendiarism. There were frequent alarms of fire at night, which increased in number as the end of the month approached. With regard to these, however, Warenne remarked, that though some had been caused by the private malice of individuals, yet that, generally speaking, it was an haulm stack, or a parcel of straw, or a rick, which lay far from any farm buildings that was set fire to; from whence he was the rather inclined to give credit to Nanny Rudd’s conjectures, that the demonstrations in the neighbourhood of Calbury were solely with the view of occupying the attention of the military, and diverting it from the real point of danger.