Uniformity had come down like a brutal sword of retribution against Puritans for beheading a king, forcing my father’s closest friend, the previous Puritan minister, out of the Anglican Church and out of Tickenham. Reverend Burges’s arrival was an insult to everything my father had striven and fought for. Ordained by a bishop, rejecting the solemnly sworn covenant, Reverend Burges accepted Prayer Book rubrics, including the wearing of Popish surplices and the idolatrous kneeling to receive the sacrament. He had even brought with him a pair of silver candlesticks for the altar.
But Reverend Burges had much sympathy for my father and for all dissenters. He allied himself with the Latitudinarians, who thought the act too harsh and wanted to see it relaxed. He overlooked the heresy of our absence from his church services, was even willing to act as chaplain and lead our morning prayer meetings. Toleration was not enough for my father, though. He was convinced that Puritans belonged to the English Church, were indeed the body of it, and could not come to terms with schism. For him, being a dissenter was akin to being cast into the wilderness like the Children of Israel. It was a very uneasy situation, but one we all had no choice but to accept, since our house, our minister’s house and God’s house stood in such close proximity, in one another’s shadow, isolated together from the rest of the straggling village, on a little mound of higher ground.
I knew that my father was concerned that Reverend Burges’s willingness to quote from Puritan tracts and to stress the weekly cycle of the Lord’s day in the privacy of our parlor, whilst he could also abide by the new decrees of the Church for the benefit of his parishioners and in order to retain his living, signified a dangerous lack of conviction.
“We must trust in God to keep us all safe,” my father said now, with enough conviction for ten men.
“Amen to that,” John Burges said.
“Amen,” I whispered fervently.
“Mary’s sister says there is panic throughout the whole of London,” John Burges said. “Her letter is filled with unimaginable horror. She writes of bodies and coffins piled high in the churchyards and of death carts rumbling through the streets at night with cries to bring out the dead. They are slaughtering dogs and cats to try to stop the contagion. The whole city stinks of rotting flesh. The King has moved to Hampton Court Palace, the nobility have all fled for their country estates, followed by the merchants and lawyers and anyone else who is able. Even the physicians have abandoned the sick.” He dragged on his beard. “I don’t know what to do for the best. If they were to come here to us, do we risk the plague coming with them? I’m afraid it may already be too late. There’s talk of the Lord Mayor closing the gates to anyone who hasn’t a certificate of health.”
“Then we can be sure the forgers will be the only ones who stand to benefit,” my father said.
I waited for him to say more, since he’d long predicted a terrible calamity would befall London to punish its people for their wickedness and depravity. The plight of Mary’s relatives would not normally cause him to miss such an ideal opportunity to illustrate the mortal danger of sin. But he remained gravely silent and I knew it was because he feared the plague may already have come to our godly house in the pages of a lovely book.
He laid the book in the grate and sent for the tinder book to set it alight. A shiver ran through me too when I looked at his rugged, pale face as he suggested Reverend Burges should lead us in a short prayer to call upon God to show mercy to the people of England’s great capital.
John Burges bowed his head and as usual he talked to God not as a mighty unseen being on high, but as if he was his dearest and most trusted friend. I clasped my hands as tight as I could and squeezed my eyes shut, as if that might make my prayer stronger, all
But Reverend Burges had much sympathy for my father and for all dissenters. He allied himself with the Latitudinarians, who thought the act too harsh and wanted to see it relaxed. He overlooked the heresy of our absence from his church services, was even willing to act as chaplain and lead our morning prayer meetings. Toleration was not enough for my father, though. He was convinced that Puritans belonged to the English Church, were indeed the body of it, and could not come to terms with schism. For him, being a dissenter was akin to being cast into the wilderness like the Children of Israel. It was a very uneasy situation, but one we all had no choice but to accept, since our house, our minister’s house and God’s house stood in such close proximity, in one another’s shadow, isolated together from the rest of the straggling village, on a little mound of higher ground.
I knew that my father was concerned that Reverend Burges’s willingness to quote from Puritan tracts and to stress the weekly cycle of the Lord’s day in the privacy of our parlor, whilst he could also abide by the new decrees of the Church for the benefit of his parishioners and in order to retain his living, signified a dangerous lack of conviction.
“We must trust in God to keep us all safe,” my father said now, with enough conviction for ten men.
“Amen to that,” John Burges said.
“Amen,” I whispered fervently.
“Mary’s sister says there is panic throughout the whole of London,” John Burges said. “Her letter is filled with unimaginable horror. She writes of bodies and coffins piled high in the churchyards and of death carts rumbling through the streets at night with cries to bring out the dead. They are slaughtering dogs and cats to try to stop the contagion. The whole city stinks of rotting flesh. The King has moved to Hampton Court Palace, the nobility have all fled for their country estates, followed by the merchants and lawyers and anyone else who is able. Even the physicians have abandoned the sick.” He dragged on his beard. “I don’t know what to do for the best. If they were to come here to us, do we risk the plague coming with them? I’m afraid it may already be too late. There’s talk of the Lord Mayor closing the gates to anyone who hasn’t a certificate of health.”
“Then we can be sure the forgers will be the only ones who stand to benefit,” my father said.
I waited for him to say more, since he’d long predicted a terrible calamity would befall London to punish its people for their wickedness and depravity. The plight of Mary’s relatives would not normally cause him to miss such an ideal opportunity to illustrate the mortal danger of sin. But he remained gravely silent and I knew it was because he feared the plague may already have come to our godly house in the pages of a lovely book.
He laid the book in the grate and sent for the tinder book to set it alight. A shiver ran through me too when I looked at his rugged, pale face as he suggested Reverend Burges should lead us in a short prayer to call upon God to show mercy to the people of England’s great capital.
John Burges bowed his head and as usual he talked to God not as a mighty unseen being on high, but as if he was his dearest and most trusted friend. I clasped my hands as tight as I could and squeezed my eyes shut, as if that might make my prayer stronger, all
Similar Books
