This was Coventry—its citizens, if not ‘wholly given up to idolatry,’ yet ‘in all things too superstitious,’ and, like the Athenians of old, prone to run after ‘some new thing.’ At the time of which we speak, they were the subjects of a strange religious frenzy—a fit of Mariolatry.
The doctrine of the Immaculate Conception of the Blessed Virgin had not yet been finally settled. It was the bone of contention between the rival monastic orders. The Franciscans or Grey Friars, following Scotus, waged war with the Dominicans, who followed Aquinas. Pope Sixtus IV. had in 1483 issued a bull favouring the Franciscans and the doctrine of the Immaculate Conception, and Foxe tells us that it was in consequence ‘holden in their schools, written in their books, preached in their sermons, taught in their churches, and set forth in their pictures.’ On the other side had occurred the tragedy of the weeping image of the Virgin, and the detection and burning of the Dominican monks who were parties to the fraud.
It chanced that in Coventry a Franciscan monk made bold to preach publicly to the people, that whoever should daily pray through the Psalter of the Blessed Virgin could never be damned. The regular pastor of the place, thinking that it would soon blow over, and that a little more devotion to the Virgin could do no harm, took little notice of it at first. But when he saw the worst men were the most religious in their devotion to the Virgin’s Psalter, and that, relying on the friar’s doctrine, they were getting more and more bold in crime, he mildly admonished the people from his pulpit not to be led astray by this new doctrine. The result was he was hissed at, derided, and publicly slandered as an enemy of the Virgin. The friar again mounted his pulpit, recounted miraculous stories in favour of his creed, and carried the people away with him.
More’s dispute with a friar.
More shall tell the rest in his own words:—
‘While this frenzy was at its height, it so happened that I had to go to Coventry to visit a sister of mine there. I had scarcely alighted from my horse when I was asked the question, “Whether a person who daily prayed through the Psalter of the Blessed Virgin could be damned?” I laughed at the question as absurd. I was told forthwith that my answer was a dangerous one. A most holy and learned father had declared the contrary. I put by the whole affair as no business of mine. Soon after I was asked to supper. I promised, and went. Lo and behold! in came an old, stooping, heavy, crabbed friar! A servant followed with his books. I saw I must prepare for a brush. We sat down, and lest any time should be lost, the point was at once brought forward by our host. The friar made answer as he already had preached. I held my tongue, not liking to mix myself up in fruitless and provoking disputations. At last they asked me what view I took of it. And when I was obliged to speak, I spoke what I thought, but in few words and offhand. Upon this the friar began a long premeditated oration, long enough for at least two sermons, and bawled all supper time. He drew all his argument from the miracles, which he poured out upon us in numbers enough from the “Marial;” and then from other books of the same kind, which he ordered to be put on the table, he drew further authority for his stories. Soon after he had done I modestly began to answer; first, that in all his long discourse he had said nothing to convince those who perchance did not admit the miracles which he had recited, and this might well be, and a man’s faith in Christ be firm notwithstanding. And even if these were mostly true, they proved nothing of any moment; for though you might easily find a prince who would concede something to his enemies at the entreaty of his mother, yet never was there one so foolish as to publish a law which should provoke daring against him by the promise of impunity to all traitors who should perform certain offices to his mother.
‘Much having been said on both sides, I found that he was lauded to the skies while I was laughed at as a fool. The matter came at last to that pass, by the depraved zeal of men who cloaked their own vices under colour of piety, that the opinion could hardly be put down, though the Bishop with all his energy tried all the means in his power to do so.’[651]
