The Coming of the King Part 56

"Ah, why the change? Know you?"

"No, I know not. For my part I am glad. It was fair sad to see him. He was mad at one time."

"Ay, that he was. Well, the prisoners be treated more harshly now than in Old Nol's time."

"Ay, and there are far more of them too. Have you heard about the king's oath?"

"Nay, I have heard of no oath save that he is going to stamp out the Dissenters."

"Nay, it hath nought to do with that, although the place is full enough of them. It is about the black box."

"What black box?"

"Have you not heard? One of the big lords, I know not which, said that an old man had shewed him the marriage certificate between the king and that pretty Welsh wench, Lucy Walters."

"Ah, no, I had not heard."

"But it is so. Well, the king hath taken an oath that, while the lad of whom there hath been so much talk is his son, he never wedded Lucy. I hear the king was wellnigh angered to death when the thing got noised abroad."

"And what hath become of the old man who shewed the great lord the thing?"

"I know not; but the strange thing is that he claims to be Lucy Walters'

father."

"And the king says it is a forgery?"

"Ay, that is his oath."

"That will end in the old man being caught and hanged."

"Ay, they will have to hang him, for of a truth every prison in England is full."

"Perhaps the king will hang the Dissenters instead, and yet I should be sorry. They cause no trouble in prison, even although there are so many.

The only thing for which I do not like them, is that they look at one so mournfully if he should happen upon oath, or say something that is not over pious."

"Ha, ha! Then must they often look mournfully on you. But I do not like their pious talk. I would rather have to do with prisoners which ought to be here. As it is, the place is full of these pious people who were preaching and praying in barns instead of in the parish church, and singing their own hymns instead of abiding by the Prayer-book, while the blackguards who used to be clapped into prison in Old Nol's time are allowed to go free. Then prisoners were real prisoners--drunkards, and wife-beaters, and thieves, and wizards, and witches; but now we have hardly any but these pious people, who are guilty of nought worse than singing hymns and preaching."

"Still law is law, and the king is king. Besides, what would you, if the king and the bishops will have everybody pray according to the Prayer-book, what right have these Dissenters to pray in their own way?"

After this they went away, and I heard no more of them. For several days moreover there was no change in my condition, except that my prison was clean and my food a little more wholesome. At the end of a week, however, I found myself at liberty to move freely around among my fellow-prisoners, and it was then that I understood the meaning of the conversation I have recorded. For in truth the place seemed full of men who were sent hither because they had disobeyed certain Acts of Parliament, the which, as I understood it, meant that if any number of people wors.h.i.+pped G.o.d in any other way than that prescribed by the Prayer-book, or in any other place than the parish church, their meetings could at once be pounced upon by the constables, and the offenders haled before the magistrates, and sentenced to imprisonment. I was also told that these Acts prohibited any person who had been guilty of preaching the Gospel, other than those empowered by the laws of the country, living within five miles of the town where they had preached.

With this news there came to me also the information that about two thousand clergymen, most of whom were pious G.o.dfearing men, were ejected from their parishes because they could not obey laws which they believed were contrary to the laws of G.o.d. Moreover, many of these clergymen, believing they were called of G.o.d to preach, had continued to minister to their flocks, with the result that the prisons of England were full of them.

In addition to this, the law, having regarded not only Nonconformist preachers but Nonconformist wors.h.i.+ppers as equally guilty, meetings were broken up, and the guilty people were clapped into gaol without more ado.

I had never taken any considerable interest in such matters, yet now that I saw these people in gaol, and heard their stories, I realized that what the squire and vicar of the parish where I had seen such a strange sight in the county of Kent had predicted had come to pa.s.s.

One old man interested me greatly, for he spoke kindly to me, and inquired lovingly after my condition. He had, so he told me, married late in life, and had a family of a wife and five children. When the Act of Uniformity was pa.s.sed he was cast forth from his parish because he would not be re-ordained, and then having been guilty of preaching the Gospel to a few of his flock, and praying with them, he was seized by the magistrates and cast into prison.

"And what hath become of your wife and family?" I asked.

"Ah, that is what grieves me sorely," he replied; "for myself I do not mind one whit, except that I can no longer proclaim the glad news which I was called to preach; but to think of my poor delicate wife wandering helpless and homeless with my dear little ones grieves me beyond words.

I can do nought but pray for them, the which I do continually."

"But why could you not obey the law?" I asked.

"Obey the law! How could I? I had been ministering to my people for many years, and G.o.d had given seals to my ministry by enabling me to lead many to the Lamb of G.o.d, which taketh away the sins of the world. Then came this law, which said that I had not hitherto been ordained of G.o.d, and must be ordained according to priestly traditions. Now, how could I do that? If I did, it would be tantamount to confessing that my previous ordination was not of G.o.d. Then, again, I could not subscribe to every word of the Prayer-book, for it is riddled with popery. The question which the Apostle asked came to me--'Whether it be right to obey G.o.d or man judge ye,' and I could only answer it in one way."

"And be there many Nonconformists?" I asked.

"You can judge something of that by the number who preferred to obey G.o.d rather than man," he replied. "Two thousand and more have been ejected from their parishes, while thousands of the people belonging to their flocks are to-day suffering imprisonment for love of the true Gospel."

"And who do you blame for all this?" I asked. "The king?"

"Ay, I blame the king, but not him only. I blame the king because he promised us fairly. Had he not so promised he would not have been invited back. He promised that none of us should be disturbed, and that every man should wors.h.i.+p G.o.d according to the dictates of his own conscience. As you know also the Act of Oblivion was pa.s.sed, whereby all those who took part in the death of the late king should be forgiven.

But what hath happened? His Majesty hath hanged many of those who thought it their duty to put that man to death, and not contented with this he hath dragged others from their graves and had their bodies degraded."

"Who among the living hath he hanged?" I asked.

He named some whose names I did not know, and then I heard the name of Master John Leslie.

"Master John Leslie!" I cried, "hath he been put to death?"

"Hanged at Tyburn," said the old man solemnly. "A good man and a faithful he was, although I agreed not with all his tenets. He was somewhat influenced by the Quaker doctrines of the man Fox, and would not allow himself to be called Sir John Leslie, although he was ent.i.tled to that honour."

"And his daughters," I cried, "know you aught of them?"

"They are both in hiding I am told."

"The wife of Sir Charles Denman hath never been captured then?"

"No, although how she hath escaped is a mystery, for Sir Charles hath fled out of the country."

"And the other sister?" I asked feverishly, for my heart was all aflame.

"Ah, the other sister. G.o.d only knows what hath become of her, for it is said that she found favour in the eyes of the king," he replied.

At this I could not speak another word, for it seemed to me that nought was left worth living for. But the old man did not heed my grief, instead he went on speaking.

"Not that I blame the king for all. The episcopal bishops and the popishly inclined clergy have allowed him no rest. My brethren have appealed for justice, but in order to please the clergy, Parliament hath pa.s.sed one law after another, each more abominable in the sight of G.o.d than the other. Our greatest enemies everywhere have been those who have wanted the heresies of the Prayer-book. They have hunted us from place to place, they have given information to the magistrates, and have not been contented until the Nonconformists have either sworn allegiance to the Prayer-book or been thrust into prison. As for the king, he careth more for his pleasures than aught else."

"But if this is all for the good of religion?" I asked presently, although my heart went not with my words.

"Religion!" cried the old man. "Religion! where can we find it? Religion is laughed at on every hand. Those in high places live in open sin, and there are none to say them nay. The Court is turned into a pigsty.

Obscene plays are in all the theatres, while vice and profligacy are actually boasted of in the streets of London. Even while we Nonconformists be imprisoned in stinking cells the very worst sins are condoned, excused, and in many places even praised, while the clergy openly proclaim that they would rather have open sin than Nonconformity.

But this cannot be for long."

"Why, do you think the king will relent?"

"Relent! It is well known that he careth little for religion. How can he, seeing the life he lives? It is said by those who know him best, that he favours the Papist religion more than any other, and would bring it back if he could. His mother hath a host of intriguing priests from Rome with her every day; these priests are treated like great n.o.bles, and the king allows it--nay, smiles upon it. I have been told that Charles Stuart doth not believe in our Lord Christ at all, and calls himself a Deist. Such is the state of religion. People live for carnal pleasures, while the virtue of maidens is laughed at as an idle tale."