Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. Woodstock; or, the Cavalier by Walter Scott (ready player one ebook .TXT) 📖
- Author: Walter Scott
Book online «Woodstock; or, the Cavalier by Walter Scott (ready player one ebook .TXT) 📖». Author Walter Scott
It was not difficult to see that the task of sobriety was not yet become easy, and that, if it had the recommendation of the intellectual portion of the party who had resolved upon it, the outward man yielded a reluctant and restive compliance. But honest Wildrake had been dreadfully frightened at the course proposed to him by Cromwell, and, with a feeling not peculiar to the Catholic religion, had formed a solemn resolution within his own mind, that, if he came off safe and with honour from this dangerous interview, he would show his sense of Heaven’s favour, by renouncing some of the sins which most easily beset him, and especially that of intemperance, to which, like many of his wild compeers, he was too much addicted.
This resolution, or vow, was partly prudential as well as religious; for it occurred to him as very possible, that some matters of a difficult and delicate nature might be thrown into his hands at the present emergency, during the conduct of which it would be fitting for him to act by some better oracle than that of the Bottle, celebrated by Rabelais. In full compliance with this prudent determination, he touched neither the ale nor the brandy which were placed before him, and declined peremptorily the sack with which his friend would have garnished the board. Nevertheless, just as the boy removed the trenchers and napkins, together with the large black-jack which we have already mentioned, and was one or two steps on his way to the door, the sinewy arm of the cavalier, which seemed to elongate itself on purpose, (as it extended far beyond the folds of the threadbare jacket,) arrested the progress of the retiring Ganymede, and seizing on the black-jack, conveyed it to the lips, which were gently breathing forth the aspiration, “D—n—I mean. Heaven forgive me—we are poor creatures of clay—one modest sip must be permitted to our frailty.”
So murmuring, he glued the huge flagon to his lips, and as the head was slowly and gradually inclined backwards, in proportion as the right hand elevated the bottom of the pitcher, Everard had great doubts whether the drinker and the cup were likely to part until the whole contents of the latter had been transferred to the person of the former. Roger Wildrake stinted, however, when, by a moderate computation, he had swallowed at one draught about a quart and a half.
He then replaced it on the salver, fetched a long breath to refresh his lungs, bade the boy get him gone with the rest of the liquors, in a tone which inferred some dread of his constancy, and then, turning to his friend Everard, he expatiated in praise of moderation, observing, that the mouthful which he had just taken had been of more service to him than if he had remained quaffing healths at table for four hours together.
His friend made no reply, but could not help being privately of opinion that Wildrake’s temperance had done as much execution on the tankard in his single draught, as some more moderate topers might have effected if they had sat sipping for an evening. But the subject was changed by the entrance of the landlord, who came to announce to his honour Colonel Everard, that the worshipful Mayor of Woodstock, with the Rev. Master Holdenough, were come to wait upon him.
Here we have one head
Upon two bodies,—your two-headed bullock
Is but an ass to such a prodigy.
These two have but one meaning, thought, and counsel:
And when the single noddle has spoke out,
The four legs scrape assent to it.
OLD PLAY.
In the goodly form of the honest Mayor, there was a bustling mixture of importance and embarrassment, like the deportment of a man who was conscious that he had an important part to act, if he could but exactly discover what that part was. But both were mingled with much pleasure at seeing Everard, and he frequently repeated his welcomes and all-hails before he could be brought to attend to what that gentleman said in reply.
“Good, worthy Colonel, you are indeed a desirable sight to Woodstock at all times, being, as I may say, almost our townsman, as you have dwelt so much and so long at the palace. Truly, the matter begins almost to pass my wit, though I have transacted the affairs of this borough for many a long day; and you are come to my assistance like, like”—
“Tanquam Deus ex machina, as the Ethnic poet hath it,” said Master Holdenough, “although I do not often quote from such books.—Indeed, Master Markham Everard,—or worthy Colonel, as I ought rather to say—you are simply the most welcome man who has come to Woodstock since the days of old King Harry.”
“I had some business with you, my good friend,” said the Colonel, addressing the Mayor; “I shall be glad if it should so happen at the same time, that I may find occasion to pleasure you or your worthy pastor.”
“No question you can do so, good sir;” interposed Master Holdenough; “you have the heart, sir, and you have the hand; and we are much in want of good counsel, and that from a man of action. I am aware, worthy Colonel, that you and your worthy father have ever borne yourselves in these turmoils like men of a truly Christian and moderate spirit, striving to pour oil into the wounds of the land, which some would rub with vitriol and pepper: and we know you are faithful children of that church which we have reformed from its papistical and prelatical tenets.”
“My good and reverend friend,” said Everard, “I respect the piety and learning of many of your teachers; but I am also for liberty of conscience to all men. I neither side with sectaries, nor do I desire to see them the object of suppression by violence.”
“Sir, sir,” said the Presbyterian, hastily, “all this hath a fair sound; but I would you should think what a fine country and church we are like to have of it, amidst the errors, blasphemies, and schisms, which are daily introduced into the church and kingdom of England, so that worthy Master Edwards, in his Gangrena, declareth, that our native country is about to become the very sink and cess-pool of all schisms, heresies, blasphemies, and confusions, as the army of Hannibal was said to be the refuse of all nations—Colluvies omnium gentium.—Believe me, worthy Colonel, that they of the Honourable House view all this over lightly, and with the winking connivance of old Eli. These instructors, the schismatics, shoulder the orthodox ministers out of their pulpits, thrust themselves into families, and break up the peace thereof, stealing away men’s hearts from the established faith.”
“My good Master Holdenough,” replied the Colonel, interrupting the zealous preacher, “there is ground of sorrow for all these unhappy discords; and I hold with you, that the fiery spirits of the present time have raised men’s minds at once above sober-minded and sincere religion, and above decorum and common sense. But there is no help save patience. Enthusiasm is a stream that may foam off in its own time, whereas it is sure to bear down every barrier which is directly opposed to it.—But what are these schismatical proceedings to our present purpose?”
“Why, partly this, sir,” said Holdenough, “although perhaps you may make less of it than I should have thought before we met.—I was myself—I, Nehemiah Holdenough, (he added consequentially,) was forcibly expelled from my own pulpit, even as a man should have been thrust out of his own house, by an alien, and an intruder—a wolf, who was not at the trouble even to put on sheep’s clothing, but came in his native wolfish attire of buff and bandalier, and held forth in my stead to the people, who are to me as a flock to the lawful shepherd. It is too true, sir—Master Mayor saw it, and strove to take such order to prevent it as man might, though,” turning to the Mayor, “I think still you might have striven a little more.”
“Good now, good Master Holdenough, do not let us go back on that question,” said the Mayor. “Guy of Warwick, or Bevis of Hampton, might do something with this generation; but truly, they are too many and too strong for the Mayor of Woodstock.”
“I think Master Mayor speaks very good sense,” said the Colonel; “if the Independents are not allowed to preach, I fear me they will not fight;—and then if you were to have another rising of cavaliers?”
“There are worse folks may rise than cavaliers,” said Holdenough.
“How, sir?” replied Colonel Everard. “Let me remind you, Master Holdenough, that is no safe language in the present state of the nation.”
“I say,” said the Presbyterian, “there are worse folk may rise than cavaliers; and I will prove what I say. The devil is worse than the worst cavalier that ever drank a health, or swore an oath—and the devil has arisen at Woodstock Lodge!”
“Ay, truly hath he,” said the Mayor, “bodily and visibly, in figure and form—An awful time we live in!”
“Gentlemen, I really know not how I am to understand you,” said Everard.
“Why, it was even about the devil we came to speak with you,” said the Mayor; “but the worthy minister is always so hot upon the sectaries”—
“Which are the devil’s brats, and nearly akin to him,” said Master Holdenough. “But true it is, that the growth of these sects has brought up the Evil One even upon the face of the earth, to look after his own interest, where he finds it most thriving.”
“Master Holdenough,” said the Colonel, “if you speak figuratively, I have already told you that I have neither the means nor the skill sufficient to temper these religious heats. But if you design to say that there has been an actual apparition of the devil, I presume to think that you, with your doctrine and your learning, would be a fitter match for him than a soldier like me.”
“True, sir; and I have that confidence in the commission which I hold, that I would take the field against the foul fiend without a moment’s delay,” said Holdenough; “but the place in which he hath of late appeared, being Woodstock, is filled with those dangerous and impious persons, of whom I have been but now complaining; and though, confident in my own resources, I dare venture in disputation with their Great Master himself; yet without your protection, most worthy Colonel, I see not that I may with prudence trust myself with the tossing and goring ox Desborough, or the bloody and devouring bear Harrison, or the cold and poisonous snake Bletson—all of whom are now at the Lodge, doing license and taking spoil as they think meet; and, as all men say, the devil hath come to make a fourth with them.”
“In good truth, worthy and noble sir,” said the Mayor, “it is even as Master Holdenough says—our privileges are declared void, our cattle seized in the very pastures. They talk of cutting down and disparking the fair Chase, which has been so long the pleasure of so many kings, and making Woodstock of as little note as any paltry village. I assure you we heard of your arrival with joy, and wondered at your keeping yourself so close in your lodgings. We know no one save your father or you, that are like to stand the poor burgesses’ friend in this extremity, since almost all the gentry around are malignants, and under sequestration. We trust, therefore, you will make strong intercession in our behalf.”
“Certainly, Master Mayor,” said the Colonel, who saw himself with pleasure anticipated; “it was my very purpose to have interfered in this matter; and I did but keep myself alone until I should be furnished with some authority from the Lord-General.”
“Powers from the Lord-General!” said the Mayor, thrusting the clergy-man with his elbow—“Dost thou hear that?—What cock will fight that cock?— We shall carry it now over their necks, and Woodstock shall be brave Woodstock still!”
“Keep thine elbow from my side, friend,” said Holdenough, annoyed by the action which the Mayor had suited to his words; “and may the Lord send that Cromwell prove not as sharp to the people of England as thy bones against my person! Yet I approve that we
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