Hocking Joseph
The Coming of the King
CHAPTER XIX
THE SCENE AT THE PARISH CHURCH
"What place is this?" I asked of a peasant as I drew near the town I have mentioned.
"Maidstone," was the reply. "Be you going to the church?"
"Maybe," I replied, "but it is early yet."
"Ay, early, but not too early if you will see the sights."
"What sights?"
"Haven't you heard? Why God a' mercy, the old rector hath come back, and hath got together twenty men to help the constables. Besides, I hear that Master Burnbridge is shaking in his shoes."
"And who is Master Burnbridge?"
"Why you must be a furriner not to know. From whence come you, master?"
"I come from London."
"Ay? From London? Then you have seen the new king?"
"Ay, I have seen him; but who is Master Burnbridge?"
"He is the Independent minister who hath ministered in the parish church for many a year. He is much beloved of the people, too, and hath many followers. But the new king hates the Presbyterians and the Independents, so we are to see gay doings to-day. It is but ten o'clock yet, but I mean to get near the pulpit so that I can see all that goes on. The old vicar, Master Noel, was one of Bishop Laud's men, and it will be rare sport to see him tackle Master Burnbridge."
"But he hath no right to do this."
"That's no matter. I do hear that the king is going to make a law, so Master Noel is taking time by the forelock, and we are to have gay doings."
The man turned in at a side road, while I rode on towards the inn I had seen in the main street. I called to mind what the Duke of York had said to me only the night before, and to me his words bore on the peasant's gossip. When he had said that although no laws had been passed against Independents and Presbyterians they had already been ejected from their pulpits, and many had been thrown into gaol, I could only regard it as the talk of a man who had drunk too freely; but now I saw that he spoke not without his book, and I determined that I would also find my way to the parish church that morning.
Desirous as I was of seeing what should take place, however, I saw to it that Black Ben was well foddered, and the morning air being pure and appetizing, I could not resist the breakfast which was placed before me. In truth so hearty was I that the church bell stopped ringing before I found myself in the churchyard. When I reached the porch of the church I found that if I entered it would be with difficulty. Nor do I think I should have found admission at all had not the people believed, when they saw my gay attire, and a sword hanging by my side, that I was sent by the king to see justice done. As it was many made way for me, and so I soon found myself within the church, which was filled from end to end with an eager crowd. I noticed that there was no noise nor confusion. Some, indeed, whispered to each other, while others smiled as if triumphantly, but on the faces of most was a look of pain and sorrow. On more than one countenance, however, I saw angry defiance, and I felt sure that although they were in the House of God, the affair was full of foreboding.
I had scarcely found a position from which I could both see and hear, when a man wearing a black gown entered the pulpit, and commenced to open the Bible, but scarcely had he done this than another, wearing a white surplice, rose from a pew close by, and said in a loud voice —
"In the name of God, and of the King's Majesty, I command you to desist."
"Who are you?" asked the man in the pulpit.
"John Noel, vicar of this parish," was the reply.
"Prove your right to that name," was the answer.
"It is my intention so to do," was the answer, "but, before I do so, do thou, a schismatic and a usurper, retire from this sacred building. For years hath this sacrilege continued, because the king hath been kept from his own; but now the king hath returned, and law and order must be restored."
"I have heard of thee," said the Independent; "thou art he who brought popish devices into the House of God, and because of it the people of this parish did drive thee out. Go thy way. This is the House of God, and it must not be made a den of thieves. The king promised before he came back that each minister should keep his benefice, and the king's promise is above thy prating."
"Come down, I tell thee, and desecrate not this holy place," cried the man wearing the surplice.
"I will not come down," cried the other. "I have been called of God to minister to this people, and this will I do in spite of the hosts of the Philistines."
Upon this he opened the Bible and began to read, but before six words had passed his lips a great number of strong men, armed, went to the pulpit and pulled him headlong from thence.
"Put him out of the House of God!" and I heard the voice of Master Noel above the mutterings of the people.
When Master Burnbridge had been dragged from the pulpit he was allowed to stand in the aisle, while Master Noel, his Prayer-book in his hand, mounted, and in a loud voice commanded the people to be silent for prayer. But this they would not be, for a great number of them arose and cried, "Master Burnbridge is our pastor, and he alone shall minister unto us."
Then I saw a great number of them rise, and were making their way towards him with anger in their eyes, and their hands clenched ready to strike, whereupon the many who had evidently been brought thither by Master Noel drew their weapons, and prepared to do battle.
I think the Independent minister saw that it would be useless for his followers to fight for him, or else he dreaded a scene of riot in the House of God, for he spoke aloud —
"Be quiet, good people," he said, "and fight not in the House of God with carnal weapons. This papist priest hath planned to do this, and we will not resist. It is true that Charles hath not commanded this, neither hath Parliament assented unto it, but this man believeth that both will support him. Moreover since the king's coming many of the people have turned riotous and drunken, and will no longer have the pure milk of the Word. But although we may be driven from the House of God, we are still the Lord's people, so let us go quietly to a field close by, so that we may worship God even as our fathers have done. Unhand me," he continued, turning to those who had dragged him from the pulpit, and still held him fast, "and I and my flock will e'en go where we can worship God unmolested, and where we can pray that the Lord's people may be protected."
At this the armed men let Master Burnbridge go, whereupon he walked down the aisle, as well as he was able for the crowd, while a goodly number, it might be a hundred, followed him from the church.
I was in two minds which to do. To leave the church with the Independents, or to stay and listen to Master Noel; but as I was anxious to hear what the follower of Archbishop Laud might have to say I took a seat close by, and prepared to listen. But few, I fancy, listened to the prayers which were read from the Prayer-book that morning. Each man had been too much moved by what had taken place to enter into the spirit of prayer, and I think every one heaved a sigh of relief when at length Master Noel began to preach. He gave out as his text these words – "The ploughers ploughed my back; they made long furrows. The Lord is righteous; he hath cut asunder the cords of the wicked." This text, he said, was indeed a true description of the followers of the Lord, since that son of Belial, Oliver Cromwell, had murdered his most sacred majesty, Charles I, and especially was it true of him, John Noel, who had been ejected from his church and vicarage by a committee of traitors, because of his loyalty to the late king. These incestuous heretics had discarded the Prayer-book, blasphemed against the one true Church, and committed sacrilege in the House of God. Moreover in the guise of those who prate about liberty they had allowed all sorts of heresy in the church, even while they were themselves the most rampant bigots. Yet had they sought to catch the itching ears of the ignorant by talks about toleration. But their reign was at an end, and soon the people of God would be freed from their accursed intolerable toleration. After this he enlarged upon what he called the heresies of Master Burnbridge, who for so long had poisoned the minds of the people, and who had that day been driven forth from God's house.
After speaking thus he dealt with his right to hire men to drive out the usurper. It is true, he said, that no law had yet been passed whereby such usurpers as Master Burnbridge had been driven forth, nevertheless this was within the rights of the aforetime rectors and vicar of the parishes. His Majesty King Charles II. was a Protestant, a man of God, and a loyal member of the Episcopal Church. He had not yielded to the Presbyterians who had appealed to him, and had not made any concessions to them. This proved that his Majesty had no sympathy with them. Therefore seeing that without bishops, priests, and deacons, there could be no king, it was right and fitting that they, as the king's loyal subjects, should return to their churches. This had been done in many places all over England, even before the king landed at Dover, and so far had justice been vindicated that in Wales especially scores of these naughty Independents had been driven from the churches, and hundreds of them had been thrown into gaol, until those same gaols were full even to overflowing. Thus they were right in ejecting this fellow Burnbridge. He was a usurper, and therefore was cast out of the temple, even as those who bought and sold in the temple at Jerusalem were cast out of olden time.
"Thus, my brethren," he continued, "we have done a part of our work. Having cleansed the church, our next duty is to drive the fellow out of the vicarage. This we will do after the close of this service."
"But," you will say, "this man will erect some meeting house in this town, where he will still poison the ears of the people. Let us trust in God. Ere long I believe a law will be passed, whereby not only will the church be purified from its taint of sin, but whereby none but those who belong to the episcopacy will be allowed to break the bread of life to the people, and a law compelling those same people to attend the church on the Sabbath days; ay, and not only that, but that they shall be forbidden to listen to any man who hath not been truly ordained a preacher of the Word. For this, let us pray, so that godliness and true religion shall be established in our land."
After this the service soon broke up, and I heard no sign of dissatisfaction anywhere. Mostly they seemed pleased by what had taken place, and nearly the whole congregation followed Master Noel across a field towards the rectory. On my way, I heard the sound of voices singing, and turning I saw a number of people in a meadow close by. A wagon had been placed under a tree, and on this wagon stood Master Burnbridge, his black gown being gently swayed to and fro in the summer breeze. All around him stood the people, but how many there were I know not. All of them, as far as I could judge, were singing, and these were the words that reached us —
When the Lord turned again the captivity of Zion, we were like them that dream.
Then was our mouth filled with laughter, and our tongue with singing: then said they among the heathen the Lord hath done great things for them.
The Lord hath done great things for us, whereof we are glad.
Turn again our captivity, O Lord, as the streams in the south.
They that sow in tears shall reap in joy.
He that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him.
At this there was much scornful derision among those who followed Master Noel; nevertheless, I thought the singing was very sweet.
A few minutes later the vicarage was the scene of great dust and confusion, for every stick that Master Burnbridge possessed was carried out into the lane which ran close by the house. Ay, so quickly was this done, that I do not think that the little band who worshipped in the field close by knew the meaning thereof. Nevertheless, even while Master Burnbridge was preaching to his flock, the road was being filled with the household treasures of the man who had been minister of the parish for ten years.
I took no part in the matter, neither was I at that moment strong in my sympathy with either the one side or the other. Nevertheless, I have set down exactly what I saw and heard as near as I can remember it, so that all who care may read.
Scarcely had the last armful of books been thrown into the road (and there was a great quantity of them), than Master Burnbridge came up.
"By whose authority hath this been done?" he cried, and I noticed that his voice was loud and angry.
"By mine," cried a portly man whom I had seen talking with Master Noel, "by mine – Henry Wellwood, of Wellwood Hall, a justice of the peace."
"Who is he?" I asked of one who stood by.
"Hush! Squire Wellwood, who for years hath hated the Independents, although he hath had to put up with them," was the reply.
"Then," said Master Burnbridge, "I declare this to be a most unlawful, as well as most unchristian and unholy act."
"You are paid back in your own coin, Master Prater," laughed the squire.
"I came to this living lawfully," replied Master Burnbridge. "Master Noel had behaved in a traitorous manner, and so by law he was ejected as a papist and a dealer in treasonous things. But there is no law against me, and I declare that you have behaved unlawfully."
"I?" cried the squire.
"Yes, you, Henry Wellwood – you whom I have so often rebuked for your riotous living and your drunken habits."
"A brawler! a brawler!" cried the squire, "Take him into custody constables, and clap him into gaol, as well as all the others who take his part."
At this I could no longer hold my peace.
"Master Wellwood, methinks this will sound bad when it reaches the king's ears," I cried.
"King's ears! And who will take it to him," he cried, turning angrily on me.
"I will," I cried.
"You will, and who are you?"
"It doth not matter who I am," I cried, "but I can tell you that I have the king's ear, and it will go hard with you."
"Take this malapert boy with the others," cried the squire to the constable, and I could see that he was much angered against me.
Two of the constables moved towards me, while the rest of the yokels stared at me openmouthed.
"I am a loyal subject of the king," I cried, drawing my sword, "and am neither Independent nor Presbyterian, but the first man that touches me shall die."
The men started back as I caused my sword to whistle around my head, and as they only had heavy bludgeons they did not come nearer. But it came to me even then that I could do no good by interfering further. I had acted on the impulse of the moment, for I deemed it unfair that Master Burnbridge, Independent though he was, should be clapped into gaol for protesting against the spoiling of his goods; yet I knew I could do nothing. All the popular feeling was against the Independent minister, who I was told afterwards had been very severe with loose and careless lives. Besides, I reflected that I could not help matters by allowing myself to be clapped into gaol. I would, therefore, have escaped if I could, but in turning to do so two men had come up behind my back, and before I could even struggle for liberty I was closely pinioned.
Before an hour had passed I was in the town lock-up with eight others, amongst whom was Master Burnbridge. As may be imagined I was little pleased with myself. First, because I was no Independent at heart, and second because my interference had done more harm than good. Moreover I was angry that I should be in prison, as though I were a drunken tapster, and in company with people whom my father had often called hypocritical psalm-Psingers. For we were all huddled together in an open space, neither had we anything to sit upon, although straw was placed upon the floor, upon which most of my companions lay down.
"The Lord hath touched your heart, young man," said Master Burnbridge.
"As to that I doubt much," I replied; "yet could I not help being angry at the way the man Wellwood treated you."
"Ay, but the spirit of the Lord was in your heart, else had you not resented such injustice. But in truth I am not surprised at all this. I have heard that Master Noel hath been in secret conclave with Master Wellwood, and I heard rumours that what hath been going on ever since King Charles hath been recalled would also happen to me. For myself I care not, but I grieve for my wife and children, for what will they do without house and home?"
At this I was silent, for in truth what could I say?
"And yet I must not fear," he went on, "for the Lord is still upon His Throne. He delivered the Hebrew youths out of the fiery furnace, and He will deliver me. But oh, I fear that dark days are coming upon England."
"But the king hath made fair promises," I urged.
"Fair promises!" cried Master Burnbridge, "and you see what they are worth. Even before His Majesty hath been a week on his throne, and before the matter of religion hath been dealt with, such as I are ejected from our livings and thrown into the gaols. Moreover, although the law is supposed to be on our side, no one stood up for it save you, a stranger. If this be done at this time, what will be done when the hosts of Belial have passed their laws? 'If they do these things in a green tree, what shall be done in the dry?' I tell thee, young man, this land will be full of wailing and gnashing of teeth."
"That remains to be seen," I replied. "When the king hath time to make the power of his arm felt, perchance these things will cease."
"Cease! Charles Stuart make them to cease! Can the Ethiopian change his skin, or the leopard his spots? I tell you he hath been brought back to England by lies and corruption, and by lies and corruption he will maintain his throne until the Lord shall speak."
"Brought back by lies and corruption!" I cried.
"Ay, I speak boldly. Who schemed to bring him back? Monk. Who is Monk? A man who plays for his own hand. First a Presbyterian, then an Independent, then nothing. Monk played a game, young master, and so we see what we see."
After this I was left much alone, for these people saw that I was not one of them. Moreover, they spent much time in prayer, and in singing of hymns, and on the whole were of a cheerful countenance.
Presently as night fell most of them fell asleep, and thus but little notice was taken when the door opened and a man whom I took to be a gaoler took me by the arm and led me forth.
"Whither do you lead me?" I asked.
"Hush, and ask no questions," was his reply.
Ere long I found myself nearing the vicarage, and again I asked why I was led thither.
"To see Master Wellwood," was the reply.
"Why should I see Master Wellwood?"
"You will soon know."
A few minutes later I stood in a room of the vicarage, which was empty save for three chairs, on two of which sat Master Wellwood and Master Noel.
CHAPTER XX
THE WISDOM OF SOLOMON
Both the squire and the vicar eyed me closely as I entered, as though they seemed doubtful as to how they should treat me. I noticed that my sword, which had been taken from me, was placed in a corner of the room, and as presently both of them nodded to me with a smile, I concluded that they intended to treat me with some courtesy.
"We have brought you hither," said Master Wellwood, "because being men who love peace, as well as lovers of justice, we desired to give you an opportunity of explaining your unruly behaviour to-day."
"In what way have I behaved in an unruly way?" I asked.
"You sought to interfere when the king's commands were being obeyed."
"What commands?"
"The commands that justice shall be done to loyal members of the Church."
"When were such commands given?" I asked. "Because never yet have I heard of them. But last night did I have audience with the king's brother, the Duke of York, while my father, whom I also saw, and who hath been near the king ever since his Majesty's return, never said aught to me concerning them."
At this they looked at each other somewhat dolefully, as though they knew not what next to say.
"Your name, young master?" said Master Wellwood.
"My name must not be known," I replied. "I am on the king's business, and thus do not tell my name to every passerby; nevertheless, I think his Majesty will be angry when he knows that his trusted envoy hath been thrown into a lock-up."
"It may be, young master; we acted zealously, yet we acted in the king's interests," replied Master Wellwood. "For what is the truth? It is only by supporting the Church that we support the king. For this is how it appeareth to us. Religion must be maintained, and schismatics cast out. For who are the king's enemies? The schismatics. Through them His Sacred Majesty King Charles the First was beheaded, therefore no man can be loyal to the king without establishing the true religion. And what is true religion? It is the Protestant religion – that is the Protestant religion which is neither rabid nor rancorous, but such as King Charles the First encouraged and sanctioned. But where is that true Protestant religion to be found? Only in the Episcopacy. For the safety of the State, and the permanence of the crown, we must have bishops, priests, and deacons. All schismatics are enemies to the crown, and to religion. Therefore, although no laws hath yet been passed against these naughty heretics, we must for the sake of the king's crown stop the mouths of all these Presbyterians and Independents."
Master Wellwood was wellnigh out of breath by the time he had finished this long harangue, but having taken a drink from a glass of brandy he went on.
"That was why, out of loyalty to his Majesty, and for the sake of religion, we even drove out that blaspheming prater this morning. Moreover, as he usurped Master Noel's house we naturally drove him out from hither. But for his naughty tongue he need not now be in prison; but he spoke foul untruths, therefore had he to be punished as a brawler. Besides, not knowing who you were, and when you took sides with the prating heretic, we naturally thought you were of his order. Therefore it was our duty to punish you. But since we have decided that you were in ignorance as to your duty and therefore, judging you to be a man of quality, we give you back your sword and your liberty."
With that Master Wellwood rose, and gave me my sword back.
"Your horse will be also ready at the White Hart," he went on, "and if you have the ear of the king you can tell him that we are his most zealous subjects."
As may be imagined, I was much angered at the coolness of this dismissal, but when I came to think about the matter I came to the conclusion that I should do no good by causing a fuss. For although the laws had not been altered, so greatly had the tide of feeling changed that it was impossible to get justice for the Independents; moreover, if the king were informed about the things which had taken place, he would doubtless have laughed indifferently, and have taken no further notice. In truth, as I was afterwards told, before any acts against Dissenters were passed, the king was much pleased when he was told that they were thrown into prison so that his throne might be established.
Without much ado, therefore, I went back to the inn, and, not desiring to remain any longer in the town, mounted Black Ben and rode through the night towards Folkestone. Not that I was overmuch pleased at the way things had turned out. It is true I was young, and had given but little heed to matters relating to religion, yet did I conceive that I had not behaved very gallantly to Master Burnbridge, whose cause I had espoused. Yet so angry was I at being imprisoned, and so eager was I to get to Pycroft Hall that I thought little of anything else. The time was coming when I was to be brought into closer contact with matters appertaining to religion, but at that time I was but ill-acquainted with those questions which were to be of such trouble to the State. Moreover, as I recalled my experiences at Pycroft I became more and more anxious lest I should fail in the thing I had set out to do. I realized that directly I had escaped from the prison house in which I had been immured, I ought to have returned forthwith, and rested not until I had obtained a document of such great value. But I had gone to Dover to witness the coming of the king, and when I had heard that Mistress Constance Denman was imprisoned I had forgotten all else in order that I might set her at liberty.
When I drew near to Pycroft I began to plan how I might carry my designs into effect. For although the thing seemed easy enough at first, it assumed different proportions as I drew nearer to it. Moreover, I continued to upbraid myself for allowing so much precious time to escape, during which Father Solomon might have transported the thing elsewhere. Would not the very fact that I knew the hiding place cause the old man to remove it? Before this time he would doubtless have again descended into the cavern to discover what had become of me, and on finding that I had gone would take steps accordingly.
Nevertheless, I hoped for the best in spite of the fears I have here set down, and when on the Monday I drew near Folkestone, I had my plans all ready. I did not go to the Barley Sheaf, as before, but instead rode straight to Pycroft Hall. The same silence reigned as I passed through the woods, and although it was now fast approaching midsummer the birds seemed afraid to sing, so dark and gloomy were the trees which surrounded the house.
No man did I meet, and for this I was very thankful. I felt that the thing which I desired to do demanded the greatest secrecy, and that it would not be wise to let any man be acquainted with my doings. For this reason I did not even go to an inn, as I had first intended, but instead made my way direct to the house. When I had wellnigh reached the open space which surrounded the building I dismounted and proceeded on foot, leaving Black Ben to roam as he felt disposed. I knew I was safe in doing this, for I had trained him to come to my whistle even as a dog obeys his master. As for any one stealing him, that, as I have explained elsewhere, was impossible.
Directly I had come to the open space I had a feeling that something had happened. The very air seemed laden with mystery, and on casting my eyes towards the house my feelings were confirmed. A great part of the building was in ruins. A few days before it had stood intact, its doors were bolted, its windows barricaded; but now not a door remained standing. There was not a whole window to be seen. Eagerly I rushed across towards the tree from which I had first seen the strange old man, but on arriving there I saw that this end of the house was wellnigh completely demolished. All around, moreover, were heaps of débris; desolation was more than ever manifested. But little more than the shell of the building remained.
A minute later I made my way to the room where I had my interview with the old man, but the place was scarcely recognizable. Only one thing remained which reminded me of our meeting. That was a grinning skull, which had somehow survived the wreck of other things.
For a moment I was stunned. I could not comprehend what it all portended; but presently my mind became clearer. Following as well as I was able the course I remembered to have taken with the old man on the night of our interview, I found my way to the place where the trap door had been lifted. A great heap of rubbish crossed the place now, and this I set to work to move with all speed. Ere long I discovered the thing I sought, and remembering the spot where old Solomon had pressed his foot, I did even as he had done, and the door lifted. As it did so I started back, for a choking sulphurous smell arose, and to my excited imagination I thought I heard strange cries.
"It might be the very mouth of hell," I said to myself; and in truth there was reason for my thought. When I called to mind what he had said, together with the strange history of the place, I did not wonder that the simple folk were afraid to come hither. The sulphurous smoke, moreover, set me coughing greatly, while a great feeling of dread gat hold of me.
But this was only for a moment. Lonely as was the place, and fearful as were the thoughts in my mind, I conquered myself. Perhaps my curiosity helped me in this. For now that I had come so far I determined to probe this thing to the bottom. I felt sure that this was all done by human means, although I could not understand it.
Having seen to it that my flint and tinder and candle were in good condition, I put my foot on the step of the ladder, and descended into the depths as I had done when the old man was with me.
I thought I heard a strange mocking laugh as I did this, but I put it down to my excited imagination, and although my heart beat aloud, I went straight on. On reaching the bottom of the shaft I lit my candle, and then followed the windings of the tunnel, even as I had followed them before. Having made careful note of everything on the previous occasion I found but little difficulty in finding my way again. And yet never in my life had I made so fearful a journey; for try as I might I could not rid from my mind the fact that I was surrounded by grinning jabbering spirits of the dead, who mocked me in the thing I was seeking to do. Neither could I rid myself of the fear that even then old Solomon was near me, waiting to complete the destruction of my life which he had attempted when we were here together before.
As I look back now I wonder that I did not give up my search in despair, for while any man with good courage can fight a battle in the open day, when his enemy is plainly in sight, it is another matter to face dread darkness, and the thousand things that haunt the darkness. In truth I doubt whether I should have gone forward but for two things. The one was my father's teaching. For this stood me in good stead now. Often had he laughed at the stories of witches and wizards; often had he scorned in my hearing stories of the supernatural which were so rife in every home in our land. But this was not all. The desire to possess the thing which would alter the destiny of England nerved me to brave anything. I remembered the look on Duke James' face. I called to mind how I had been attacked on the highway, and the words which had been uttered, and I knew the thing meant much. I had seen the writing on the parchment, and I understood what it meant. Besides, my father had commanded me. His future depended on the discovery, for Duke James had said that if this were brought to him my father's hopes should be fulfilled. And there was more than this. Even then I bethought me of the woman whom I had rescued from Bedford Gaol, and the more I thought of her the more did I fear for her. If she were captured again, should I not, by the possession of this precious document, have means in my hand whereby I could render her service?
