The extremes of opinion were thus visible on either side. Between them the government steered their arduous way, under such guidance as conscience and necessity could furnish. To pass a statute was one thing: to enforce the provisions of it was another. The peers and bishops expected to be indulged forthwith in the pleasures of a hot persecution. The king’s first act was to teach them to moderate their ardour. In order to soothe the acrimonies which the debate had kindled, the lords spiritual and temporal were requested to repair to Lambeth to “animate and comfort the archbishop,” and to bury the recollection of all differences by partaking of his hospitality. The history of their visit was, perhaps, diluted through Protestant tradition before it reached the pages of Foxe, and the substance only of the story can be relied upon as true. It is said, however, that on this occasion a conversation arose which displayed broadly the undercurrent of hatred between Cromwell and the peers. One of the party spoke of Wolsey, whom he called “a stubborn and churlish prelate, and one that never could abide any nobleman;” “and that,” he added, “you know well enough, my Lord Cromwell, for he was your master.” Cromwell answered that it was true that he had been Wolsey’s servant, nor did he regret his fortune. “Yet was I never so far in love with him,” he said, “as to have waited upon him to Rome, which you, my lord, were, I believe, prepared to have done.” It was not true, the first speaker said. Cromwell again insisted that it was true, and even mentioned the number of florins which were to have paid him for his services. The other said “he lied in his teeth, and great and high words rose between them.”[471]
The persecution commences.
The statute is developed into branches.
Five hundred suspected persons imprisoned in a fortnight.
The king’s peace-making prospered little. The impetus of a great victory was not to be arrested by mild persuasions. A commission was appointed by the Catholic leaders to reap the desired fruits. Such of the London citizens as had most distinguished themselves as opponents of reformation in all its forms—those especially who had resisted the introduction of the Bible—formed a court, which held its sittings in the Mercers’ Chapel. They “developed the statute” in what were termed “branches of inference”; they interpreted “speaking against masses” to comprehend “coming seldom to mass.” Those who were slow in holding up their hands “at sacring time,” or who did not strike their breasts with adequate fervour, were held to have denied the sacrament. In the worst temper of the Inquisition they revived the crippled functions of the spiritual courts: they began to inquire again into private conduct,—who went seldom to church—who refused to receive holy bread or holy water—who were frequent readers of the Bible, “with a great many other such branches.”[472] “They so sped with their branches” that in a fortnight they had indicted five hundred persons in London alone. In their imprudent fanaticism they forgot all necessary discretion. There was not a man of note or reputation in the City who had so much as spoken a word against Rome, but was under suspicion, or under actual arrest. Latimer and Shaxton were imprisoned, and driven to resign their bishoprics.[473] Where witnesses were not to be found, Hall tells us significantly, “that certain of the clergy would procure some, or else they were slandered.” The fury which had been pent up for years, revenge for lost powers and privileges, for humiliations and sufferings, remorse of conscience reproaching them for their perjury in abjuring the Pope, whom they still reverenced, and to whose feet they longed to return, poured out from the reactionary churchmen in a concentrated lava stream of malignity.
The bishops’ zeal is greater than their discretion.
A general pardon is granted once more.
The blindness of their rage defeated their object. The king had not desired articles of peace that worthless bigots might blacken the skies of England with the smoke of martyr-fires. The powers given to the crown by the Act of Proclamations recoiled on those who bestowed them, and by a summary declaration of pardon the bishops’ dungeon doors were thrown open; the prisoners were dismissed;[474] and though Cromwell had seemed to yield to them in the House of Lords, their victims, they discovered, would not be permitted to be sacrificed so long as Cromwell was in power.
The Vicar of Stepney, who has denounced authority in violent language, is called on to recant.
He yields an ambiguous obedience.