Darnley; or, The Field of the Cloth of Gold — John Shaqi
Darnley; or, The Field of the Cloth of GoldJames, G. P. R. (George Payne Rainsford)
History
Darnley; or, The Field of the Cloth of Gold
James, G. P. R. (George Payne Rainsford)
Great Britain -- History -- Henry VIII, 1509-1547 -- Fiction; Henry VIII, King of England, 1491-1547 -- Fiction
Much was the confusion which reigned amidst pans, kettles, pots, and
plates; and sundry were the positions of spits, gridirons, and ladles:
in short, it seemed as if the implements of cooking had all got drunk
after a hard day's work, and had tumbled over one another the best way
they could in search of repose. From the large black rafters overhead,
however, hung much that might gratify the eye of the hungry traveller,
for the kitchen seemed to serve for larder as well as drawing-room.
There might be seen the inimitable ham of York, with manifold sides of
bacon, and dangling capons, and cheeses store; and there, too, was the
large black turkey, in its native plumes, with endless strings of
sausages, and puddings beyond account. Nor was dried salmon wanting,
nor a net full of lemons, nor a bag of peas: in a word, it was a very
comfortably garnished roof, and in some degree compensated for the
disarray of the room that it overhung.
In those days, the close of evening was generally the signal for every
traveller to betake himself to the nearest place of repose; and with
his circle round the fire, and his own peculiar chair placed in the
most approved corner of the vast chimney, mine host of the inn seldom
expected the arrival of any new guest after dark. It was then, if his
company were somewhat of his own degree, that he would tell his best
story, or crack his best joke; and sometimes even, after many an
overflowing flagon had gone round at the acknowledged expense of his
guests, he himself, too, would club his tankard of toast and ale, for
which, it is probable, he found sufficient means to make himself
kindly reparation in some other manner.
In such course flowed by the moments at the inn, when Sir Osborne
Maurice, pushing open the door of the kitchen, interrupted the
landlord in the midst of an excellent good ghost story, and made the
whole of the rest of the party turn their heads suddenly round, and
fix their eyes upon the tall, graceful figure of the young knight, as
if he had been the actual apparition under discussion.
The assembly at the kitchen-fire consisted only of six persons. Mine
host, as above stated, in his large arm-chair, was first in bulk and
dignity. Whether it be or not a peculiar quality in beer to turn
everything which contains a great quantity of it into the shape and
demeanour of a tun, has often struck me as a curious question in
natural philosophy; but certain it is that many innkeepers, but more
peculiarly the innkeeper in question, possess, and have possessed, and
probably will possess, so long as such a race exists, the size,
rotundity, profoundness, and abhorrence of locomotion, which are
considered as peculiar attributes of the above-named receptacle, as
well as the known quality of containing vast quantities of liquor.
Mine host was somewhat pale withal; but sundry carbuncles illuminated
his countenance, and gave an air of jollity to a face whose expression
was not otherwise very amiable.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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