The Broken Font: A Story of the Civil War, Vol. 2 (of 2)Sherer, Moyle
History
The Broken Font: A Story of the Civil War, Vol. 2 (of 2)
Sherer, Moyle
Great Britain -- History -- Civil War, 1642-1649 -- Fiction
first, the proceeds of Cheddar living in his pocket, and, next, the
gratification of telling the flock of Noble that they were one and all
in the broad road to destruction.
Nor did this insidious priest fail to spread all sorts of calumnies
about the poor unconscious vicar, and to irritate many furious
zealots against him. He kept up a constant correspondence with a
political partisan in London, to whom he gave much information on
local and county matters, stretching his invention not a little when
he had to tell any thing against the Royalists of those parts. By this
means he got a name as a person well affected to the Parliament, and
greatly interested in the cause of religious liberty.
It so happened, that, in the November immediately following the
breaking out of the war, and the great battle of Keinton, a body of
Parliamentarian horse being quartered in his neighbourhood, Daws found
a fit instrument for his purposes on Cheddar, in a most furious and
bigotted fanatic, who commanded a troop of horse. This man was easily
persuaded that he could not render a more acceptable service to God
than by destroying with fire and sword all places, all persons, and
all things, which were, in his own view, defiled, and idolatrous, and
impure; and he therefore sallied forth against the church and the
parson of Cheddar as he would against a temple and a priest of Baal.
On the day on which old Noble was ejected from Cheddar, with many
circumstances of cruelty and hardship, he arose, as usual, with some
fears, but with unshaken trust in the goodness and mercy of an
all-wise and almighty Father. The day was cold, and not a sunbeam was
admitted through the cloud and gloom which brooded over all things. It
chanced that the stout and resolute old franklin Blount had determined
that his grandchild should be publicly baptized at the same ancient
font at which his own venerable forehead had been signed with the sign
of the cross. There was some doubt in the mind of his son-in-law,
Hargood, whether it was prudent at that moment of busy persecution, on
the part of the county committee, to make so open a display of devout
attachment to the hallowed ceremony of a christening. His loving
daughter, from a tender apprehension about her infant’s safety, if any
thing should fall out amiss, would have stolen to church, at the
earliest possible hour, and in the most quiet manner. However, habits
of submission to her father, formed by an admiration of his character,
were of so long a growth, and so deeply rooted, that the remonstrance
of her fears was not ventured on; indeed Blount would have held it
craven to yield to the timid suggestions of prudence, where he looked
to a principle in his conduct. It is not improbable that some shadow
of a domestic tragedy had been cast upon the old man’s solitary
thoughts; for, within a few days past, there had been observable in
his manner a mixture of severity and gentleness at once strange and
affecting.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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