Andrew Golding: A Tale of the Great Plague

by Anne E. Keeling

'And I have a word to thee, Emanuel Truelocke,' he continued, suddenly turning, lifting his long right arm and pointing his long finger towards Mr. Truelocke, whose pale countenance, framed in his long white hair, could still be seen looking quietly at him. 'I desire to speak to thee in love, and show thee the secret of thy ill success in thy ministerings to this worldly people, who have not the excellent spirit that I gladly acknowledge in thyself. The canker of gold has been on these ministerings of thine, for thou hast yearly taken hire for them; and therefore it is that so many of these people are cold and sickly in divine things. But the Lord hath had mercy on thee, and will take away from thee the mammon whereby thou hast been deceived; and for thy sake I rejoice in thy coming downfall'—

Here there began a mighty hubbub in the place. Men stood up on benches, shaking their sticks and clenched fists against the speaker; women cried, 'Shame on him! pull him down! have him away!' and many rushed upon him, struck him, dragged him down, and would soon have trampled him under their feet, but Mr. Truelocke spoke with a voice that rang like a trumpet, and said,—

'Do the man no harm; for shame, my brethren! Did not I tell him he had liberty to speak? Make me not a liar by your violence!' and then I saw several men, Andrew and Harry being foremost, raising up the stranger, for he had been felled to his knees pushing off those who were striking him, and leading him forth of the church. Then a mighty flash of lightning glared through the building, and a great peal of thunder roared and echoed after it, and the rain rushing down like a torrent drove and beat against the windows. The stranger, who had been got to the door, now turned round, crying,—

'Hearken, O people, to the voice of the Lord bearing witness against your madness!' with which words he vanished, friendly hands pulling him out of sight against his will.

A great silence seemed at once to fall upon the people, while the storm blazed and thundered on; and in the midst of it Mr. Truelocke began his discourse.

'My brethren,' said he, 'I did not think to have been so cruelly put to shame as I have been by you this day. Long have I toiled to make you follow His righteousness, who, when He was reviled, reviled not again; long have I trusted that you were indeed partakers of that Spirit whose fruits are love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness. Alas! what longsuffering, what peace, what gentleness have you shown to-day? Ye have well-nigh done a man to death in the very house of God, and before the eyes of me your pastor. I stand rebuked here, a teacher whose teaching is proved useless and fruitless. From this day forth I will preach to you no more, but will lay down, a little before the law takes it from me, the office I have so ill discharged. Now hearken to me once more, and once only; and let not my last sermon prove so idle as those I have preached to you before.'

With this preamble, which struck every one into awe, he began to preach with an uncommon fervour, as one who was all on fire to have men turn from their sins, and to close with the offers of God's mercy while yet it was time; and this earnestness of his, and a certain passionate tenderness in his looks and tones, something more than ordinary, would not let us forget the resolve he had expressed. His text was, 'How shall we escape if we neglect so great salvation?' and having enlarged on it with such piercing eloquence as I have spoken of, and come to an end of his discourse, he made a little pause, and then said,—

'Little as I like to mingle any private matters of mine own with the message I stand here to deliver, I had determined, when I should come before you for the last time, to say something of the reasons why I cannot comply with what our rulers require of us. I will not depart from that determination because a strange cause has moved me to lay down mine office some few days sooner than law requires.' He stopped a moment, looking troubled; then he resumed: 'Not my own humour, nor the pride of a vain consistency, holds me back from compliance. I have sought in prayer, and in study, and in discourse with my brethren, for light on this matter; but in my mind is something still unsatisfied that bids me persevere in my fixed opinion, so long adopted; I can do no other. Therefore, submitting patiently to leave my church and my flock, I pray your pardon for any fault I make in this resolution; of God's pardon I am assured.'

Having said thus, he bowed his fatherly head, praying inwardly, and all the congregation wept and prayed with him, though many of them afterwards showed themselves highly displeased with the way he had taken of rebuking their violence; also great efforts were used to make him break his resolve of preaching there no more, it wanting more than a week or two of the appointed day in August when he must needs desist; but he would not yield to do more than pray publicly; and the pulpit was for a season supplied by other men.

I am wandering away, however, from that day and its doings, of which I have not finished the account. While Mr. Truelocke was preaching, the storm drew off and died away in distant mutterings, so that it was in a very great stillness that he spoke his last words. However, the rain was still falling, though without violence, when we came out of the church; so we waited awhile in the porch till the clouds had rolled away, many others who did not love a wetting doing the same as we, and there was much talking.