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.