The Two Confessions by John Whitbourn (good books to read for adults .TXT) 📕

afflictions accordingly ceased. Gatheringthe angry and bewildered remnants to Rome, She succoured them, making a peacewhose fruits we still enjoy. However, it remains my unshakeable opinion thatonly the sheltering wing of the Holy Catholick Church prevents the bonfires'return.

InEngland our cause was aided (after a fashion and in due course) by the reign ofKing Joseph I, 'the Wizard'. Seen in retrospect, those lively andremarkable years achieved much: for religion, for England and for sweettoleration. And all this from a merry monarch who never departed from hisavowed intent 'to enjoy life as much I d*mn well may - and then go toheaven.' He most certainly fulfilled the first, and we may venturereasonable confidence on the second count. Even if he did 'worship thefemale form' and 'cavort with elves and elementals', asmean-spirited detractors allege, surely our Merciful Father's anger is lessroused by such lapses of the flesh, than the more cold-hearted and bloody sins?

ButI digress, prompted by warm feelings for our great benefactor in these Isles.In essence, I say that even in these most favourable times, the Christianwizard should sigh and resign himself to life-long pettydiscriminations. He (or she) must accept it as mortification for the blessinggranted them. Against the sidelong glance, the wounding remark, they can turnthe other cheek and earn grace thereby. Knowledge of the deadly retribution availableby curse or spell only makes our forbearance the more commendable....

A.W.

London,Bognor, Jaffa. 1902-10.

************

************

'On this field once stood 'THE TOWER OF LONDON', ofhideous memory & a place of horror to all English-folk. Founded by William'the Conqueror' as a stronghold & symbol of the Norman Yoke, successivemonarchs herein incarcerated, tortured & murdered their enemies, oft-timesinnocent patriots or hapless barriers to their gross ambitions. Foremost in thecatalogue of iniquities witnessed by this soil are Henry First-Tudor'sinfanticide of the young 'Princes in the Tower', & the numberlessmartyrdoms of the ‘Reformation-Devastation’ period. Waxen-mannequin cameos ofthese despicable deeds may be seen in the Chamber of Horrors attached to the 'Chapel of PerpetualLamentation', Seething Lane.

Brieflytaken and partly slighted, its myriad prisoners released, in the fleeting butglorious days of the 'Gunpowder Plot', The Tower was then the blood-drenched,beleaguered citadel of 'King Essex' and other crazed schismatics. Its entirerazing was ordered by King James the True in 1688.

StRichard Challoner, Archbishop of Canterbury, decreed that no successorstructure ever be erected on this site, so that it might be henceforth givenover as silent witness to the wickedness of history-makers and the sureeventual triumph of G*D.

Thesebeautiful grounds and gardens are maintained by the brothers of the CrutchedFriars, Fenchurch Street, and a 300 day indulgence (usual conditions) isgranted to anyone donating one quarter the contents of their loose change purse- as they may truly find it upon the notion - into the sealed box below.'

Thisplaque was unveiled in the presence of His Royal Highness, Guy, Prince ofWales, under the auspices of ÐA ENGLSICAN GESIÐAS Society. The 23rd dayof March, the year of our Deliverance 1958.

************

************

'NotesTowards an Inventory of the Collection of the Royal Stuart National PortraitGallery: for the reference of scholars, and the enlightenment of visitingquality and the better-educated degree of yeomen.'

ByFr. Brian Sewell, O.S.B. Curator. 3rd edition. 2s/6d. 1981.

'...it is indeed salutary to note that not a single undefaced depiction of 'HenryVIII-and-last' survives in our possession. One, unmistakably of his porcineform, even has the visage of St Guy angrily daubed over the original head! Theoverall effect is unedifying and I hasten to forestall morbid curiosity bysaying this quasi-laudable revenge is not for general view.

Inthe same manner, few likenesses of Elizabeth I remain without expressions ofdisgust, conveyed in paint or blade; potent reminders of the powerful emotionsroused by her brief reign and the forces she unleashed - but proved unable tocontrol.

Attimes, I survey these mutilated works of art, many of them sublime expressionsaside from their rebarbative subjects, and ponder the wisdom of repair. Should,for instance, Holbein's or Van Dyke's oeuvre forever be impoverished byan unhappy choice of patron? Art, which is only the dimmest echo of G*d'swhispering in our ears, answers 'surely not!'

Butthen I recall history, and in my mind's eye see Abbott Whiting dragged on ahurdle to be hung, drawn and quartered on Glastonbury Tor; I hear the pleas ofsoon-to-be widows and orphans fall upon 'Black Betty's deaf ears; and smellroasted flesh from Edward's hecatombs at Smithfield. After which I turn againto the wounded pictures and tell them 'so shall ye stay'....’

************

************

************

THE FIRST CONFESSION

'For I know that my redeemerliveth, and that he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth:

And though after worms destroythis body, yet in my flesh shall I see God.'

The Book of Job. Chapter 19, verses25 - 26.

************

‘Harden Not Your Hearts.’

Psalm 95.

************

************

************

 

 

THE YEAR OF OUR LORD 2037

************

CHAPTER 1

For several days there hadbeen no messages; no invitations, threats or pleas. That was a mercy, a rare holidayfrom relentless pressure. He realised how hard his guardians strove, and atwhat cost, to block every approach and was duly grateful for it. Nor did heblame them for the frequent failures, knowing the enemy was implacable.

Thentheir agents must have found another way in, suborned a brother, forced illicitentry or else employed fresh sorcerous tricks. When he dragged himself from bedto early prayers in the chapel the old man found a scrawled note tucked intothe pages of his missal. In seeking the 'proper of the day' it wasliberated from concealment and slipped to the floor. He was happy for it tostay there. His name adorned the front and that was sufficient. They generallywrote in blood (though not their own) and he'd no wish to soil himself withsuch sordidness. The words might vary but the general sentiments did not, andhe knew all they had to say.

Sadly,his monk-bodyguards saw fit to retrieve and read the thing, and then pass it onwith eloquent expressions of disgust. Unable to afford any lapse from virtue,courtesy obliged the old man to accept delivery.

'Come forth' it said, as always. 'Leave the old god's house and lead us!'

Sothat was another opportunity for saving prayer lost. They'd succeeded indistracting him.

Theletter was disposed of and in due course the brothers arrived for