Scenes very different, yet equally revolting to the feelings of Eustace and his companions, were frequently exhibited by the fury of fanatic mobs, employed in what they called reforming the churches and cleansing them from idolatry. The exquisite remains of antient art, the paintings, carvings, and other splendid decorations with which our ancestors adorned the structures consecrated to the worship of God, were broken and torn away with such unrelenting fury and blind rage of destruction, as in many instances to threaten the safety of the edifice they beautified. The Satanical spirit of fanaticism rioted uncontrolled; and to use the words of a venerable Bishop[[1]], who saw his own cathedral defaced, "it is no other than tragical to relate the carriage of that furious sacrilege, whereof our eyes and ears were the sad witnesses, under the authority and presence of the sheriff. Lord! what work was here—what clattering of glasses—what beating down of walls—what tearing up of monuments—what pulling up of seats—what wresting out of iron and brass from the windows and graves—what defacing of arms—what demolishing of curious stone-work, that had not any representation in the world but only of the cast of the founder, and the skill of the mason—what tooting and piping upon the destroyed organ-pipes, and what a hideous triumph on the market-day before all the country, when, in a kind of sacrilegious and profane procession, all the organ-pipes, vestments, copes and surplices, together with the leaden cross which had been newly sawn down from over the green-yard pulpit, and the service-books and singing-books that could be had, were carried to the fire in the public marketplace; a lewd wretch walking along in the train in his cope, trailing in the dirt, with his service-book in his hand, imitating in impious scorn the time, and usurping the words of the Litany used formerly in the church. Near the public cross all these monuments of idolatry must be sacrificed to the fire, not without much ostentation of a zealous joy in discharging ordnance, to the cost of some who professed how much they longed to see that day. Neither was it any news upon this guild-day to have the cathedral, now open on all sides, to be filled with musketeers, waiting for the mayor's return, drinking and tobaccoing as freely as if it had turned ale-house."
At these sad spectacles (of which almost every ornamented church they passed supplied an instance), Isabel contemplated with pleasure the character of Barton[[2]], who displayed that moderation and liberality which justified her predilection for him, and her hopes for themselves. He reproved the conduct of the mob with severity, and even hazarded his own safety by opposing their outrages. He exhorted the police to prevent what he termed an Anti-christian triumph over good taste, good manners, and good sense. He represented how grossly indecent it was that magistrates should seem, by their presence, to sanction the violation of authority, and the reverence due to antiquity, and he sometimes prevailed upon them to order the rabble to disperse, whom they had previously invited to the task of spoliation. He spoke to the better-informed, of the degradation which England would suffer in the eyes of surrounding nations, by thus wantonly "sweeping the land with the besom of destruction," and annihilating all those records of her own pre-eminence, which other countries, had they possessed them, would have been so solicitous to preserve. He distinguished between excitements to devotion and objects of worship, and he read from his little pocket-bible a description of the decorations bestowed on the first and second temples, and remarked, that when the Saviour of the world predicted the ruin of the latter, he threw no censure on the munificence of those who had adorned it. He shewed, that the plainness and poverty which of necessity attached to an afflicted church in its infancy, destined to make its way, not by the usual assistances of worldly wisdom, but in opposition to principalities and powers, were no rule for her government in future ages, when she was to be brought to her heavenly spouse "in glorious attire, with joy and gladness," and instead of wandering among caves and deserts, was to "enter into Kings' palaces." "If," said he, "you maintain that the overthrow of episcopacy is to involve the ruin of every thing rich, venerable, and beautiful, you furnish its defenders with the best of arguments. How are curious craftsmen to flourish, if there are no purchasers of their handy-works; and if we admit these into our houses, why not into the places where we hold our religious assemblies? Are paintings and carvings less likely to carnalize our hearts in our halls and banqueting-rooms than in our chapels? Is a golden cup on the Lord's table the accursed spoil of Achan; and doth it become purified by being removed to the buttery and used in a private carousal?"
On one occasion, by an ingenious device, Barton preserved a splendid representation of the twelve apostles in a chancel window. He arrived just at the moment that a drunken glazier had convinced the mob that they were made saints by the Babylonish harlot, and that therefore their similitudes, as popish rags, ought to be destroyed. After in vain endeavouring to persuade the populace that the Pope had no hand in their canonization, he at length prevailed upon them to have only the heads taken off, remarking that since the decapitated bodies could not provoke the gazer to commit the idolatry forbidden in the second commandment, they might remain without wounding tender consciences. The proposal was executed under his own superintendance; and at a period of less irritation, Mr. Barton, having preserved the heads, had the pleasure of restoring the mutilated figures to their original perfection.
But Barton shewed his conciliatory character in many ways besides protecting the inanimate appendages of the persecuted church. The journey afforded him frequent opportunities of assisting its living members, either by rescuing them from the requisitions of the troopers who escorted the prisoners, or by shielding them from the virulence of their infuriated neighbours. Often in the towns they passed through, was a degraded pastor dragged from the lowly cottage in which he sought to shelter his misfortunes, and compelled (with barbarous exaltation) to behold the rebel colours flying over his captive friends. Wherever this happened, Barton uniformly pressed forward, assured the dejected confessor that every possible attention was paid to the comfort of the prisoners; inquired into his own situation, not with impertinent curiosity but with kindness, and promised his assistance to procure him a regular payment of the pittance which Parliament allowed to ejected incumbents out of their sequestered rents, if (as it too frequently happened) he found it had been embezzled by the commissioners employed in the work of re-modelling the ecclesiastical system.
They had proceeded very far in their journey, when one evening Barton rejoined his charge with much apparent agitation in his manner. "We are forbidden," said he, "to let our left hand know the good deeds our right doth, yet cannot I refrain from telling you, young maidens, that I am this day satisfied with my labours. Among other providences, I have been able to render brotherly kindness to an episcopal minister whom I found in a lamentable state, for he had fallen among thieves, who robbed him of his property and tore his pass for safe conduct. Our van-guard found him by the way-side, and judging by his venerable aspect, and some superfluous decorations in his attire, that he was a deposed bishop flying to the King, they seized him without paying attention to his narrative. When I heard that a person in distress was taken prisoner, I spurred on my horse to see if I could be of use. The placid benignity of the sufferer's aspect moved my commiseration; he stood calm and collected among the musketeers, supporting a woman about his own age, who I trow was his wife. To do her justice she shewed no signs of terror, though she rolled her eyes on those around her with a look of disdain, less suited, methought, to her situation than the dignified patience of her companion. I asked him if he had been a bishop, and he answered, No; but was still a minister of the Christian church. 'Then,' said I, 'perhaps in your affliction you will not refuse the service, or reject the hand of one who calls himself by the same title.' 'Sir,' said he, 'this is no time to dispute the validity of your ordination; let your actions shew that it has had a due efficacy on your heart. As men, if not as clergymen, we are brothers by our common faith and nature. I beg you to listen to the statement of facts, which I have vainly endeavoured to persuade your soldiers to attend to.' He then told me he was travelling from a living in Lancashire, from whence he had been expelled, to Oxford, where he possessed some collegiate endowments; that he had been assaulted by a band of depredators, beat, bound, and plundered."
Constantia here eagerly interupted Barton; "His name!" exclaimed she;—"O, for mercy tell me, could it be my father, Eusebius Beaumont?"
"The same," returned Barton, melting with pity at her filial anguish. "Set thy kind heart at rest; he was not materially hurt; his property has been restored. He is now at liberty, pursuing his journey, and the robbers are secured. But why, dear maid, didst thou conceal thy name? Had I known thou wast his daughter, thou shouldst even now have been in his arms."
"O better, far not; for then he would have been a prisoner. But his companion, my excellent aunt?"
"At liberty too; I handed her into their own calash, and saw them drive off with a pass of safe conduct. But, pretty trembler, if she is so excellent, I will make you her proxy, to give me the reward she refused to my services. I did but ask for the kiss of peace at our parting, when she drew back her head as if she were an empress, and stiffly answered, 'Sir, I am a Loyalist.'"
This faithful description of aunt Mellicent's unswerving decorum diverted the young Evellins, and helped to dissipate Constantia's terrors. Her rapturous acknowledgements of the humane Barton largely repaid him for his services to her father. She listened to a circumstantial detail of the difficulties with which he had contended against the obstinacy and prejudices of the magistrates, to whom he had applied for a fresh passport; of the fortunate combination of circumstances which, had led to the pursuit and detection of the thieves, with the original instrument in their possession, and of their confession, commitment, and discovery of the place where they had deposited their booty. "I parted from your father," continued he, "with many affecting testimonies of mutual good-will, and I think aunt Mellicent, as you call her, would almost have smiled upon me, had not my vain heart indulged in too much joyous self-gratulation at the success of my endeavours, and thus brought on that just rebuke of my presumption. I did not ask your father to shew like mercy, whenever he should find one of us in like affliction, for his eyes told me that his conscience would be a better remembrancer than my tongue. I said, however, that I trusted we should meet in a world, where slight discrepancies of opinion would be no preventatives of friendship, though in this life they kindled the animosities which it was our misfortune to witness and deplore." "Sir," said he, pressing my hand, "let our contest be, who shall most truly serve God and our fellow-creatures, and then we may hope for that pardon, which ensures endless blessedness. On mercy the best of us must depend, though we too often withhold it from our fellow-sinners, by whose side we must one day kneel, and like them place all our confidence in boundless compassion."