The Broken Font: A Story of the Civil War, Vol. 1 (of 2)Sherer, Moyle
History
The Broken Font: A Story of the Civil War, Vol. 1 (of 2)
Sherer, Moyle
Great Britain -- History -- Civil War, 1642-1649 -- Fiction
Such language would, in a moment of calm reflection, have been utterly
revolting to the feelings of Cuthbert. He would have shut his ears to
the base and bloody cry, and hurried away from the wretches who gave
it utterance, as from the company of sinners, whose feet were already
planted in the paths of wickedness, and were swift to shed blood. But
now, though such fierce cries gave a jar to his better dispositions
and nobler nature, they were regarded as the natural ebullitions of an
irritated mob; and he stood among them as a partaker of their guilt by
the sanction of his presence.
Nothing is so blind--nothing is so deaf--nothing can stoop so low--as
party spirit;--and at no period of English history was this more fully
exemplified than at that of which we are now speaking. The Cavaliers,
on their side, were not without the support of a rabble of their own;
and by these, the slang of the tavern, the bear garden, and the
brothel, was exhausted to furnish epithets of scorn, contempt, and
ridicule, by which they might insult their fanatical opponents.
To the mental eye of Cuthbert the two victims of a severe and
intolerant hierarchy stood out in large and disproportionate
grandeur,--filling all the foreground of the picture upon which he now
gazed to the exclusion of all other objects.
He saw them bearing the evident marks of torture and degradation on
their mutilated forms. They had been thus treated, according to his
notion, for a mere error in judgment--they were sufferers for
conscience-sake:--his heart grew hot within him,--and he would have
called down fire from heaven on the heads of their oppressors.
He accompanied the crowd all through Westminster; and, in the
eagerness of his excited mood, pressed in once close to the horse of
Prynne, that he might utter a “God save you, master!” to the stern
Puritan, face to face.
There was a keen twinkle of triumph in the little eyes of the sour
precisian, which showed that he felt his day of revenge would soon
come, and that it would be his turn to play inquisitor towards his
late haughty oppressor.
However, he would have been more than human had he been superior to
such an infirmity, after sustaining injuries so great.
It happened on the day of this public entry of Prynne and Burton that
Cuthbert was alone in the quarter of Westminster; and having remained
a long time gazing on the show, he went into a tavern in a narrow
street behind the Abbey to refresh.
After satisfying his hunger over a fine joint of roast beef in company
with a grave looking lawyer, who sat opposite him at the same table,
with a roll of parchments and papers by his side, the man of law
proposed a cup of canary to the health of Masters Prynne and Burton,
in which he was readily seconded by Cuthbert.
“Ah,” said the stranger bitterly, “this is a different kind of
procession to the fool’s mummery which they made us play seven years
ago, before the wanton queen and her dancing French gentlemen.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account