Several hours have passed and I have managed to escape London. Hopefully, I will not find the Unicorn burnt to the ground upon my return. I wrote before of sentimentality (or bile as most know it) and wished to conclude my thoughts as I now find myself in more agreeable circumstance, situated as I am in a country tavern (the Saracen’s Head) with a pipe in one hand and an ale in the other.
Englishmen may be a boorish and uncouth race of men, but if they share one thing in common with the Irish, it is their love of the countryside. While my country has no rival in its splendor, it can be said that English have made have done their utmost to preserve their own negligible beauty.
If London will have faded from memory in 500 years time (which I believe it will) what will be remembered of England and its past grandeur will be its countryside which by any intelligent reckoning shall remain unchanged. What should and will change will be people’s access to this beauty, as one cannot ramble more than five feet into a field without someone chasing you off the grounds, pike in hand. By the King’s blessing, his grounds will someday be open for all to enjoy and hunt and make merry as they will. A man will be able to look upon at Great Houses and enter a Wondrous Church without fear for his head…
But perhaps I am too much in my cups. I know these things cannot happen – once again the bile has its grip upon my being.