Plague Thoughts From Prof Meic Pearse
I conclude from recent articles in my daily newspaper, "The Feudal Times and Reactionary Herald", that the bubonic plague is making an awful nuisance of itself of late.
King Donald Bombasticus the Orange, it appears, is making light of it all, and says that the whole trouble comes from Cathay. Indeed, he is calling for a crusade against that country — though his constant mis-identification of Cathars as the inhabitants of Cathay leads one to conclude that he may not be in full possession of his counting beads.
By stark contrast, the dwarf-like seer-child, Greta de Savonarola, insists that the plague is a judgment by Mother Earth for our sin of prosperity. Thousands hold her in awe, as she stumps about on foot from place to place, preaching her imprecations of doom, spurning to go by wagon, since its wheels are made of wood — and hence are the poisoned fruit of felling 'Brother Tree'. Her popularity is far from universal, however. According to the FTRH's correspondent in Florence, the city she is due to visit next, kindling wood has been flying off the shelves in that city. For some reason.
Even before this latest outbreak, peasant revolts had been simmering. Now their leaders, Jeremias Corbinus and the mendicant friar Fr. Bernie de Methuselah, are blaming it all on the merchant classes. The answer, they say, is to cease all work for seven years and a day, the better to reduce them and everyone else to egalitarian penury — and thus to usher in the Age of Gold prophesied by Joachim of Fiore.
Meanwhile, Boris the Tardy of Prydain, though he cannot be accused of such extremism, cannot be found guilty of prompt decisiveness either. He has finally concluded that people ought, on balance, to stay in their hovels. Probably. Except for absolutely necessary purposes, like going out to buy "The Spectator". Though he has long cultivated an air of shock-haired, shambolic confusion, the better to confuse his foes, it has been a sham. Until now. Right now, he seriously doesn't have a clue what to do.
As I laid my newspaper down on the dining board, and wearily tossed another peasant on the fire, it occurred to me that now would be rather a good time to mend fences with the Mongols....
Meic Pearse (M.Phil., D.Phil., Oxon.) was recently Professor of History at Houghton College NY, until he was retired early in 2019, on health grounds: they were sick of him.
The author of seven books, most notably Why the Rest Hates the West (InterVarsity, 2004), he speaks German, some Serbian/Croatian/Bosnian, some Welsh, and has been known to embarrass himself in Italian and French. In his spare time, he enjoys not watching television.
He truly is as unjustly horrible to everyone as this article makes him sound. Except to Gabi, who deserves it.
