England The Emergence of Anglicanism
England
The Protestant Reformation that swept across much of western Europe during the sixteenth century was far from monolithic. A mass of local factors shaped the Reformation, giving rise to patterns of reform that defied the simplifications of its more uncritical supporters and opponents alike. While shared beliefs and attitudes enabled local reformations to enjoy at least a degree of unity and direction with the larger movement, each of these smaller groups also pursued its own interests, whether subtly or more emphatically, and thus the movement’s fragmentation remained a constant threat.
One of the most remarkable and, owing to the happenstances of imperial history, influential forms of Protestantism emerged in England. Careful historical analysis of the origins and development of Anglicanism has been hindered to no small extent by the lingering agendas of religiously biased writers who, in attempting to perpetuate their own accounts of the English Reformation, have been primarily motivated by vested interests over what Anglicanism ought to be.1
Many nineteenth-century Anglican writers sympathetic to the High Church revival movement often known as “Tractarianism” or the “Oxford Movement” were dismissive of any suggestion that this most English form of Christianity could be considered “Protestant” and pointed to the roots of their “Anglo-Catholicism” in the early seventeenth century. It is certainly true that some significant conformist members of the Church of England during the reigns of James I and Charles I wished to lay a greater stress on its sacramental life than some of their contemporaries and were disinclined to be sympathetic toward the first generation of Protestant leaders in the English Reformation. Whereas for earlier conformists the Church of England was a champion of true religion against anti-Christian Rome, the later Jacobean and Caroline ecclesiastical establishment sought to extricate itself from the confessional struggles of European Protestantism, seeing these struggles as a liability rather than an asset. Under Charles I, this group began to gain the ascendancy: William Laud became Archbishop of Canterbury and Richard Neile became Archbishop of York. Yet such figures cannot for that reason be designated “Catholics,” partly because they were generally so affirmative of their Protestant credentials, and partly because their sacramental views could easily be accommodated within the spectrum of Protestant possibilities.2 From a historical perspective, the English national church must be regarded as a Protestant variant—the “Protestant Episcopal Church of England and Ireland,” as state and parliamentary documents regularly describe it.3
Galleria Nazionale d’Arte Antica, Rome, Italy; Photo: Scala/Art Resource, NY
Portrait of Henry VIII, King of England, 1540, by Hans Holbein, the Younger (1497–1543).
So how did this distinctive form of Protestantism come to establish itself in England? And how did its characteristic features emerge? This chapter explores these intriguing questions.
HENRY VIII: A CATHOLIC REFORMER
One of the most remarkable developments in the recent historiography of the English Reformation under Henry VIII is the general abandonment of the term “Protestant” to refer to its leading reforming representatives.4 English reformers simply did not refer to themselves by this term, which they tended to use instead to refer to German Lutheranism, especially seen from a political perspective. The term “evangelical” is increasingly being used to designate the English reformers of the 1520s and 1530s, who did not regard themselves as confessionally “Protestant” but rather saw themselves as “Catholics” who believed their church required reform and renewal from within.5 Recent studies have pointed out how the Christo-centric piety characteristic of the late Middle Ages may have contributed to the continuity between pre-Reformation and evangelical piety in England.6 The perception that England’s religious reformers were Protestant dates from the reign of Edward VI and marks a significant shift of understanding in the transformation then under way within the English church.
Where some older Protestant accounts of the Reformation in England asserted that the late medieval English church was moribund and corrupt, yearning for the kind of reform that Luther espoused, recent studies of English church life on the eve of the Reformation have pointed to its vitality and diversity.7 Often drawing heavily on local archival sources, these studies have added weight to the increasingly secure view that the English Reformation was largely, from its outset, imposed “from above” by successive governments on the English people, who were generally unsympathetic to the official “new religion.”8 There is no doubt that the English people were dissatisfied to some degree with the state of the English church in the late Middle Ages. Visitation records show a degree of concern being felt at the episcopal level over the low quality of the clergy and misgivings being expressed over various aspects of church life. There were also clear signs of hostility toward the clergy in urban contexts, most notably in London. Nevertheless, animosity toward the clergy was by no means universal. In many parts of England—especially in the west and in northern regions such as Lancashire and Yorkshire—the clergy were, on the whole, well liked, and there was no particular enthusiasm for any radical change.
As Luther’s books began to be imported into England in the early 1520s—legally or otherwise—from continental ports such as Antwerp, his ideas began to be discussed. Perhaps the greatest interest in his writings at this stage was among academics, particularly at Cambridge University. The “White Horse” group, which met at a long-vanished tavern of that name, included some of the future leaders of the Reformation in England. Although it is thought that accounts of the activities and influence of this group may have been somewhat embellished, there is no doubt that Cambridge was an important early center for discussion of Luther’s doctrine of justification by faith. Luther’s appeal to sections of the English church may have been enhanced through the influence of Lollardy, a pre-Reformation indigenous movement that was associated with activists such as John Wycliffe and was severely critical of many aspects of church life.9
Nevertheless, the evidence suggests that the origins of the Reformation in England cannot be convincingly attributed either to popular dislike or criticism of the late medieval church or to a growing academic interest in Lutheranism. These factors may well have served as catalysts to that Reformation once it had begun. The evidence strongly points to the personal influence of Henry VIII on the origins and subsequent direction of the English Reformation. That influence was modulated and moderated in often subtle ways, reflecting a mixture of resistance, collaboration, and acquiescence on the part of the English population.10
The causes of the English Reformation, though complex and various, are widely held to be linked primarily to Henry’s attempt to set up a smooth transition of power after his death by ensuring that he had a son as an undisputed legitimate heir to the English throne.11 Henry had a daughter through his first wife, Catherine of Aragon—the future queen, Mary Tudor. Yet this marriage had not only failed to produce the requisite son and heir but also reflected the political realities of an earlier generation: an alliance between England and Spain had been seen as essential to a sound foreign policy, which was then held to depend on a secure relationship with the Holy Roman Empire. The weakness of this assumption had become clear by 1525, when Charles V declined to marry Henry’s daughter by Catherine. Henry subsequently began the process by which he could divorce Catherine.
Under normal circumstances, this procedure might not have been expected to encounter any formidable obstacles. An appeal to the pope to annul the marriage could have been anticipated to secure the desired outcome. However, the situation was anything but normal. Rome was under virtual siege by the army of Charles V, and Pope Clement VII was understandably feeling somewhat insecure. Catherine of Aragon was the aunt of Charles V, and it was inevitable that the pope would wish to avoid giving unnecessary offense to the emperor at such a sensitive moment. Unsurprisingly, the petition for a divorce failed. As if to add insult to injury, Clement VII informed Henry that he would be excommunicated if he married again.
Henry’s response was to assert both the independence of England—as not only a nation-state but a separate province of the church—and the autonomy of the English king.12 The most persuasive narrative linking the various events of Henry’s reign is that of a reformation imposed from above by Henry and his court, with the objective of developing an English form of Catholicism, stripped of its traditional allegiance to the pope. It is becoming increasingly clear that traditional Catholics and reforming evangelicals in England around this time shared many common religious values and that the ensuing Reformation was thus both possible and successful.13 A nationalist agenda is easily discerned at this point: Henry wished to retain the notion of a state church as the guarantor of national unity.14
It is impossible to speak of any coherent English “Protestantism” at any point during Henry’s reign, in that Henry appears to have had no interest in adopting either Lutheranism or Zwinglianism. Nor did evangelicals use the term “Protestant” to refer to each other. Rather, we may identify a variety of evangelical factions, which became radicalized as Henry’s religious policies seemed increasingly erratic in their direction and inconsistent in their application.15
On November 3, 1529, Henry convened a parliament that attempted to reduce the power of both church and clergy. The initial refusal of the English clergy to concede these points prompted Henry to undertake more severe measures in order to persuade them. The most important of these took place over the period 1530–31, during which time Henry argued that the English clergy, by virtue of their support for Rome, were guilty of praemunire—a technical offense that can be thought of as a form of treason in that it involves allegiance to a foreign power, namely, the papacy. With this capital charge hanging over them, the clergy reluctantly agreed to at least some of Henry’s demands for recognition of his ecclesiastical authority.
Henry was presented with an opportunity for advancement of his aims when the aging archbishop of Canterbury, William Warham, died in August 1532. Initially, Henry delayed appointing a replacement. However, it became increasingly clear that the resolution of his divorce from Catherine of Aragon demanded a sympathetic replacement, not least because Henry had begun an affair with Anne Boleyn. By December 1532, Boleyn was pregnant, making resolution of the issue a matter of urgency if the ensuing child was to be a legitimate heir to the English throne. Stephen Gardiner, the obvious candidate for the archbishopric, was out of favor. Henry and his adviser Thomas Cromwell identified Thomas Cranmer, who was not even a bishop at this point, as the obvious successor to Warham.
Why Cranmer? The best explanation is that he had earlier indicated his strong support for Henry’s divorce proceedings. Cranmer was finally consecrated (possibly against his will) on March 30, 1533. Although the consecration was supported by papal documents, Cranmer declared that he took the obligatory oath to the pope without feeling bound by it. Henry’s marriage to Catherine of Aragon was annulled by an English court in May 1533, allowing Anne to be crowned queen on June 1. Her daughter, Elizabeth Tudor, was born on September 7—a legitimate heir to the throne of England, but unfortunately for Henry (and in the light of subsequent events, even more unfortunately for Anne), not a son.
Henry’s divorce of Catherine immediately led to the threat of excommunication. Henry now decided to follow through with the course of action on which he had embarked, by which his supreme political and religious authority within England would be recognized. A series of acts were imposed in 1534. The Succession Act declared that the crown would pass to Henry’s children. The Supremacy Act declared that Henry was to be recognized as the “supreme head” of the English church. The Treasons Act made denial of Henry’s supremacy an act of treason, punishable by death. This final act led to the execution of two prominent Catholic churchmen, Thomas More and John Fisher, both of whom refused to recognize Henry as supreme head of the English church—a title that they believed belonged only to the pope.
Henry now found himself under threat of invasion from neighboring Catholic states. The mandate of restoring papal authority would have been a more than adequate pretext for either France or Spain to satisfy their expansionist ambitions by launching a crusade against England. Henry was thus obliged to undertake a series of defensive measures to ensure the nation’s safety. These measures reached their climax in 1536. The dissolution of the monasteries provided Henry with funds for his military preparations. Negotiations with German Lutherans were begun with the object of entering into military alliances. At this point, Lutheran ideas began to be adopted in some official formularies of faith, such as the Ten Articles. Nevertheless, this theological enthusiasm for Lutheranism appears to have been little more than a temporary political maneuver.
When it became clear that there was serious opposition in England to his reforming measures, Henry backtracked. The 1543 “King’s Book” clearly indicates Henry’s desire to avoid giving offense to Catholics. By the time of Henry’s death in January 1547, the religious situation in England was somewhat ambivalent. Although Henry had made some concessions to Lutheranism, he appears to have continued personally to prefer at least some traditional Catholic beliefs and practices. For example, his will made provision for prayers to be said for his soul—over-looking, incidentally, the fact that, less than two years earlier, he had tried to close down the chantries, which existed for precisely this purpose!
From this brief account of the origins of the English Reformation under Henry VIII, it will be clear that there are reasons for supposing that Henry’s agenda was political, dominated by his desire to safeguard his succession and secure his own authority throughout his kingdom. Through a series of developments, this required a schism with Rome and an increasingly tolerant attitude toward Lutheranism, in both Germany and England.16 Yet Henry’s temporary interest in Lutheranism, which peaked around 1536, does not seem to have been grounded primarily in religious considerations, but rather in the need to secure the support of reform-minded activists in England for his own distinctive style of reformation. The English Reformation was a decidedly Henrician affair, aimed at creating a confessionally unified, politically stable nation with a coherent state religion focused on the office and person of the king.
Toward the end of Henry’s reign, tensions nevertheless began to emerge as warring factions began to plan for the succession. The monarch’s final years were marked by political maneuvering as the increasingly confident evangelical faction within the court aimed to secure Edward’s succession, which would allow them to steer England in a Protestant direction that was more explicitly confessional.17 Indeed, Henry may even have colluded with this development, seeing it as the inevitable, if distasteful, outcome of the situation that he himself had created.
On Henry’s death, England changed direction significantly. The word “Protestant” now finally became entirely appropriate to describe the new religious situation.
EDWARD VI: THE ENFORCEMENT OF PROTESTANTISM
Henry VIII died on January 26, 1547. Under the terms of his will, his successor was beyond dispute: the nine-year-old Prince Edward, Henry’s son by his third wife, Jane Seymour, was the only male Tudor heir to the throne after the death of his father. There was no question of the legitimacy of the succession. It is, however, a moot point whether one can really speak of Edward exercising kingship in either a personal or possessive sense during his brief reign.18 Power would lie in the hands of those who advised and protected him, above all John Dudley, Duke of Northumberland, and the king’s “protector,” Edward Seymour, Duke of Somerset.19 The religious changes unleashed during Edward’s brief reign would have a formative impact on the shaping of the Church of England, and through it, on determining the contours of the English-speaking Protestant world.
From the outset, it was clear that Edward’s reign would mark a radical break with the past. There would be no continuation of the theological ambiguities of the closing years of Henry’s reign, which had left the devotional life of the English people relatively unchanged. Mass was still celebrated, and many ceremonies continued. Even where some of these were now forbidden—such as the burning of lights before images—people found convenient ways of bypassing the rules. The diocesan and parish structures of England had been left virtually as they were, particularly in relation to their forms of worship. Thomas Cranmer, Archbishop of Canterbury, might well have had ambitious ideas for the reform of the liturgy and theology of the English church, but Henry VIII gave him no opportunity to pursue them.
In marked contrast, the new king would preside over a thoroughgoing reformation of the church, modeled along the lines of continental Protestantism. As Cranmer declared at his coronation, Edward would be a Josiah, a reforming king, who would purge his kingdom of all remaining forms of idolatry.20 Such powerful Old Testament imagery was taken further, with Edward also being portrayed as a Solomon who would build a new church. Although Cranmer and other Protestant bishops—above all, Nicholas Ridley and Hugh Latimer—are often seen as providing the driving vision for forcing through the Edwardian reforms, it must be noted that Edward himself was no passive, if approving, spectator of such developments. In 1550 Edward made his own religious views known when he personally deleted any reference to the invocation of saints in the oath of royal supremacy.
It was soon clear that Edward and his advisers were moving the English church far from the relatively modest reforms introduced under Henry. Evangelicals became Protestants and increasingly identified themselves with the narrative of events—in their view, divinely guided—already taking place on the continent of Europe. Edwardian preachers and writers were aware of the potential difficulties this might create, especially from those who might wish to present Edward as reversing his father’s religious policies. The apologists for the Edwardian Reformation were careful to depict their king as the godly son of a godly father, personally and valiantly moving his nation into the natural second stage of the Reformation begun by Henry VIII. The Edwardian Reformation was simply a continuation of what had gone before, consolidating the legacy of the late monarch.
The king’s Protestant Reformation—a “top-down” restructuring of the church that was generally imposed upon the English church—was in line with his vision of the godly monarch. If at times it is difficult to discern a continuous, consistent program of Protestantization during these six years of active, unsettling, and controversial Protestant Reformation, the difficulties arising from the king’s youth may well be responsible. Sovereign power had to be exercised collaboratively, in the light of rival Protestant visions and aspirations associated with those who advised the new Josiah.21
Of these aspirations, the most important is thought to have been the revision of the Book of Common Prayer in 1549 and again in 1552. The use of an “authorized” prayer book for public worship proved to be a highly significant method of social and intellectual control.22 Moreover, Cranmer’s revisions would be of considerable importance, particularly in relation to eucharistic theology.23 Although Cranmer’s 1549 liturgy showed a calculated, if ultimately vague, alignment with Luther’s understanding of the “real presence,” by 1552 he had shifted his position and now identified with Zwingli’s rather different approach. Cranmer’s mature eucharistic views are best studied from his Defense of the True and Catholic Doctrine of the Sacrament, first published in 1550. Cranmer here argues that the eucharist represents a memorial of Christ’s saving death in which believers “do spiritually eat his body, and [are] spiritually fed and nourished by him.” There was, however, no mystical transformation of the bread or the wine. “The bread remains still there, as a sacrament to signify.”
Cranmer was also responsible for a series of further developments designed to consolidate Protestantism in England as a long-term presence on account of its intellectual excellence rather than merely because it was enforced by royal authority and command. Recognizing that the reforms introduced to date needed firmer theological grounding, Cranmer invited leading established Protestant theologians from continental Europe to settle in England and lend a new theological direction and foundation to the English Reformation. Peter Martyr Vermigli was appointed as Regius Professor of Divinity at Oxford University, and Martin Bucer as Regius Professor of Divinity at Cambridge University. Their arrival pointed to a new determination to align the English Reformation with its European counterpart, particularly its Reformed constituency.24
The “Forty-two Articles” (1553) drawn up by Cranmer were strongly Protestant in orientation, as was the Book of Homilies (a set of approved sermons for delivery in parish churches).
The clergy would now be required to affirm their allegiance to what was clearly and emphatically a Protestant statement of faith and to preach predetermined sermons of unquestionable Protestant provenance. A close scrutiny of both the articles and the homilies suggests that the Edwardian Reformation was being positioned midway between the two visions of Protestantism then achieving dominance in Germany and Switzerland. Visitation programs led to the practical enforcement of the Protestant Reformation at the parish level, typically expressed in the destruction of images. This highly visible change to churches and worship, often enforced by vigilantes, was one of the more distinctive aspects of the emerging Reformed tradition. Its appearance in England at this time is a telling indication of the changing trajectories of theological allegiance then taking place.25 The English church’s flirtation with Lutheranism, begun largely for reasons of political expediency in the 1530s, was not yet over; however, England now began to align itself increasingly with the ideas associated with the Reformed wing of the Reformation.
So how did the English people react to such reforms, which were imposed upon them without consultation and without much obvious demand for such drastic, wholesale reform at the grassroots level? The evidence is ambivalent. There was unquestionably popular discontent during Edward’s reign, but it seems to have been particularly directed against agrarian reform, above all the unpopular enclosure of vast tracts of land. With the possible exception of the “Western” or “Prayer Book” rebellion of 1549—which had to be suppressed forcibly using foreign mercenaries—there was little open public criticism of the reform measures. Yet signs of discontent were nevertheless evident. Non-attendance at church became a problem; some of those who did attend public worship were known to shun their own Reformed parishes and to frequent those offering more traditionalist forms of worship.
Edward’s early death in 1553 put an abrupt end to this state-sponsored Protestantization of the English national church. To bring about a total religious conversion of England was the work of a generation, not a mere seven years. The measures, never entirely popular, had not been consolidated and could easily be reversed. Mary Tudor, who succeeded to the throne, immediately began to put in place a series of measures designed to bring about a restoration of Catholicism in England.26 Although it can be difficult to discern the strategic goals of these moves, their object appears to have been to return England’s religious life to what it had been before Henry’s breach with Rome over the divorce issue. In 1554 Parliament agreed to declare void all religious legislation passed after 1529.
Protestant bishops were arrested and deposed. Cranmer, Latimer, and Ridley were arrested. The mass and clerical celibacy were restored. Married clergy would gradually be removed from office. Mary refused to accept the title of “supreme head” of the church, adopted by her father, arguing that this title properly belonged to the pope. With relations with the papacy now restored, Reginald Pole—a loyal Catholic bishop deposed under Henry VIII—was installed as Archbishop of Canterbury. England was once more a Catholic nation. The clock had been turned back by twenty-five years.
Yet Mary’s attempt to reimpose the traditional religion suffered a series of setbacks. In 1556 Pole and the pope became embroiled in controversy, souring relations between England and the papacy. The reversionary measures became particularly unpopular when Cranmer, Latimer, and Ridley were publicly burned at Oxford. Mary’s diplomatic flirtations with Spain created the impression that Catholicism was a foreign religion, imposed by foreign influence.27 Cranmer and his unfortunate colleagues were easily depicted as English patriots, murdered by a queen with Spanish sympathies.
Cranmer’s fate confirmed the worst fears of many English people: it was no longer safe to be known as a committed Protestant in England. By early 1554, realizing the gravity of their situation, most Protestants with the ability and means to do so had fled England to seek refuge in Europe.28 According to John Foxe, “Well near to 800 persons, students and others together” fled England for refuge in the Protestant havens of Europe in the first few years of Mary’s turbulent reign. The favored cities of exile were Aarau, Basel, and Zurich in Switzerland; the German cities of Emden, Frankfurt, and Strasbourg; and the independent city of Geneva. Some refugees were wealthy enough to support themselves in exile; others received discreet financial support from well-wishers back home, particularly from wealthy Protestant merchants who already had extensive trading links with the cities where their protégés sought refuge. It proved to be a relatively easy matter to arrange covert support for their exiled colleagues through, for example, business deals with merchants in Strasbourg.
The Marian exiles seem to have regarded their time in the cities of Europe as paralleling a biblical event that took place two thousand years earlier—the exile of Jerusalem in Babylon. Was not this period of exile to be a time of purification and preparation for a return to their native land? And would not the returning exiles bring a purer form of religion with them? In the event, the period of the Marian exile was a mere six years, in comparison with the fifty of the biblical counterpart. Yet the exiles saw it as a period of schooling, in preparation for their return. Their time of exile allowed them firsthand experience of successful, working Protestant churches and communities and provided them with role models that would shape their vision of the new reformed Church of England they proposed to establish on their return.
The period of exile was difficult for many reasons, not least because nobody had any real idea how long it would last. Economic hardship was widespread within the small English communities, which were often treated with disinterest or hostility by their host cities. Serious divisions arose in the exiled English Protestant communities in Basel, Emden, and Frankfurt over issues of liturgy and theology, causing embitterment and demoralization. An exception to this was the English community in Geneva, which attracted approximately one-quarter of the émigrés; it was hailed by John Knox as “the most perfect school of Christ,” the finest embodiment of a Christian society since the time of the New Testament. The English community in Geneva proved to be especially important in forging attitudes among the exiles that would shape the debates and tensions of Elizabethan Protestantism. The anticipation of a new era of Protestant renewal and reform in England sustained the English Protestant communities during their exile as they waited for the right time to return home.
That time came, unexpectedly and suddenly, on November 17, 1558. Mary Tudor and Reginald Pole died within hours of each other. The royal and ecclesiastical power base of the re-Catholicization program lay in ruins. Everything now depended on the religious beliefs of the remaining daughter of Henry VIII, who was the only obvious successor to Mary. But which way would Elizabeth face?
ELIZABETH I AND THE STABILIZATION OF ENGLISH RELIGION
Recognizing the need to secure religious stability in England, Elizabeth set about crafting a “Settlement of Religion” that would bring at least some degree of unity to a deeply divided nation.29 The basic elements of the Settlement were the Act of Supremacy, which affirmed Elizabeth’s sovereignty over the national church and abolished any papal power, and the Act of Uniformity, which aimed to enforce religious uniformity throughout the nation, making church attendance compulsory on Sundays and saints’ days. The effect of such measures was that the queen laid down what the church should believe, how it should be governed, and how its services were to be conducted.
Elizabeth’s own inclinations were unquestionably Protestant; nevertheless, she had no interest in causing offense to Catholic Spain, which might pose a significant military threat to England. This concern was probably reflected in her chosen title as “Supreme Governor” of the church: her refusal to be called “supreme head” avoided offending both Protestants (who used this title to refer to Jesus Christ) and Catholics (who used it to refer to the pope). The Church of England would be reformed in its theology yet remain Catholic in its institutions, especially its episcopacy.
Elizabeth’s Settlement of Religion was always precarious, relying much on veiled promises and hints of future favors that somehow never materialized. A political rather than a theological statement, it was aimed at generating consensus and stability, assisted to no small extent by theological vagueness and evasion.30 Elsewhere, Protestantism might be riven and cleft by theological disputes; England would be undivided, at least publicly.
Although Lutheran influence may indeed be discerned at points within the Settlement of Religion, it is clear that the balance of power had shifted decisively toward Reformed forms of Protestantism.31 The returning Marian exiles, many of whom had spent their exile in cities such as Zurich and Geneva, included many important or soon-to-be-important English Protestant leaders, such as John Aylmer (future bishop of London), John Bale, Miles Coverdale, Richard Cox (future bishop of Ely), Edmund Grindal (future archbishop of York, then Canterbury), John Jewel (future bishop of Salisbury), and Edwin Sandys (future archbishop of York).
On the assumption that the Elizabethan Settlement was an imperfect temporary compromise, many Protestants actively supported and defended it, while waiting for the more radical measures that seemed to be imminent. Particular dissatisfaction was expressed by more radical Protestants over Elizabeth’s insistence that priestly vestments revert to what they had been in the second year of the reign of Edward VI. Those who looked to Geneva or Zurich for theological guidance longed to wear black gowns and get rid of vestments altogether. Elizabeth’s cryptic hint that she might alter her mind subsequently came to nothing. The Settlement proved to be a seedbed of discontent, catalyzing growing discontent within Protestantism that subsequently led to the emergence of the Puritan party. Although the term “Puritan” is problematic for the historian, it accurately denotes a central theme of the group of Protestants whom it designates—namely, a passionate, occasionally obsessive, quest for further reformation. In the face of what they saw as Elizabeth’s compromises and half-measures, they demanded a pure church, along the lines of Calvin’s Geneva.32 A turning point was reached in 1576 with the appointment of John Whitgift as archbishop of Canterbury. The Puritans realized they would never achieve their goals under Elizabeth.
One local solution was adopted by Protestant sympathizers in the Channel Islands.33 In 1564 a French diplomatic mission to London suggested that the Channel Islands come under the ecclesiastical control of the Catholic diocese of Coutances in Normandy. After consultation with the islanders, it was ruled that they were part of the English diocese of Winchester, and hence not subject to French ecclesiastical control. However, by 1576 the islanders had established French Reformed beliefs and church practices in their region, claiming that they were exempt from Elizabeth’s control because they were following the best practice of the French Reformed churches in the Coutances area. English religious control was not reestablished in Jersey until the reign of James I, and not in Guernsey until the reign of Charles II.
With the passage of time, the Settlement of Religion can be seen to have defined Anglicanism with reference to Catholicism, on the one hand, and to Puritans, on the other.34 In April 1570, Pius V excommunicated Elizabeth, declaring that she was a pretender to the throne of England. The announcement placed Puritans in an impossible position, as they were obliged to defend England’s Protestant queen against this act of papal aggression. Yet the papal edict united the Catholic world in the Empresa de Inglaterra (“the Enterprise of England”)—the overthrow of the new Protestant regime. And Spain saw itself as having a leading role in this decisive event. The failure of Spain’s attempt to invade England in 1588 led to a growing perception within England that it was indeed a Protestant country, facing up to the military and naval might of its Catholic opponents.
Elizabeth’s long reign allowed England to emerge as a Protestant nation, its Catholic and more radical Protestant dissenters being of minor importance. Elizabeth’s personal prestige enabled her to sideline dissent without undue difficulty. Although the image of Elizabeth as a militant Protestant heroine belongs to a somewhat later age, her defeat of Spain was widely seen as marking a new phase in the consolidation of Protestantism.35 In 1600 England was emerging as a naval power of no small significance, and a powerful defender of the new religion. Under Sir Walter Raleigh, a Protestant colony was established at Roanoke Island, eventually to be known as “Virginia.” Protestantism expanded into Ireland, displacing the indigenous Catholic population and laying the foundations of the religious tensions that persist to this day.
ELIZABETH AND THE INVENTION OF ANGLICANISM
In 1555 the Religious Peace of Augsburg brought at least some degree of stability to a fractured Germany. Regional rulers could choose, and then enforce, their preferred religion. Yet their choice was limited to two options—Lutheranism and Catholicism. Elizabeth failed to see why she should be limited in this way. She would choose, and then enforce, her own religious option—the reformed episcopal faith now known as Anglicanism.
The style of Protestantism that crystallized in the late Elizabethan era thus had a distinctive, even unusual identity. The form of Protestantism that began to be spread throughout the world as England expanded its naval capacity and its colonial ambitions was a distant cousin of its continental neighbors. Elizabeth desired to create a sustainable form of Protestantism, adapted to the realities of the English situation, which would represent a “middle way” between the religious extremes of her day. Although this via media is often described as an intermediary between Protestantism and Catholicism, a closer examination of the political and religious dynamics of the Elizabethan period suggests a desire to develop a form of Protestantism that was not identical to, but had clear points of contact with, Lutheranism and Calvinism.
Although the term “Anglican” dates from a later era, it describes this distinct form of Protestantism remarkably well. It reflects the religious instability of England as a result of the aggressive yet ultimately short-lived policies of Edward VI and Mary Tudor. Like a ship tossed about in a storm, England had first lurched sharply toward Protestantism, then equally violently toward Catholicism. Elizabeth sought to bring stability to her nation, partly through deferred promises, partly through adaptation, but above all through an insistence on her own sovereign authority in matters of religion. Anglicanism would be defined by the place of the monarch as the ground and guarantor of its religious identity and stability.
Elizabeth adopted a religion that included all the cardinal beliefs and practices of Protestantism, including the rejection of papal authority, the insistence that preaching and all public worship should be in the vernacular, the insistence upon communion in both kinds for the laity, the affirmation of the clergy’s right to marry, and a set of official pronouncements of faith—the “homilies,” the “Thirty-nine Articles of Faith,” and the prayer book—that affirmed core Protestant beliefs (such as the sufficiency of scripture, justification by faith, and the rejection of purgatory).
It is important to judge Elizabethan Protestantism for what it actually was rather than impose the ideals of a later age upon it. Some have seen Richard Hooker (1554–1600) as reflecting the theology and ecclesiastical polity of Anglicanism at this time. Hooker’s attempt to replace the “word-centered” piety characteristic of this age with one that was more “sacrament-centered” was not typical of the era, and it reflected Hooker’s aspirations for the future rather than the actual situation on the ground.36 Some Anglo-Catholic apologists of the nineteenth century tried to portray Elizabeth as constructing a reformed Catholicism at this time, but this is simply historical nonsense. By every criterion of her age, Elizabeth implanted a form of Protestantism in England—and was universally recognized at the time as having done so.
The outcome was a form of Protestantism that sought to stress its continuity with the Christian and English past, retaining a remarkable amount of organization, custom, and tradition from the pre-Reformation era. Much to the irritation of radical Protestants who had been schooled at Geneva and Zurich, Elizabeth retained bishops and insisted on distinctive clergy dress. The traditional ecclesiastical structuring of dioceses with their bishops and parishes with their parish priests continued to function. An ordered and uniform liturgy was prescribed by the Book of Common Prayer. The contrast with the more Genevan form of Protestantism then emerging in Scotland was obvious.
The critical role of the monarch in determining and then sustaining the character of the Church of England made a change in monarch unsettling. When Elizabeth died in 1603, there was genuine uncertainty over who would succeed her. Which way would the wind blow? When it was announced that James VI, King of Scotland, would succeed Elizabeth, the Puritan party in England was electrified. A surge of reforming anticipation swept through the movement. Would not a Scottish king reform the Church of England and create a properly Reformed church based on his own Scottish church?
REDEFINING ENGLISH PROTESTANTISM: THE RISE OF PURITANISM
In the 1580s, Geneva became for Elizabethan Puritans what Moscow was for many European Communists during the 1930s—a potent symbol of their aspirations and a source of the ideas and support that might bring them about. If Elizabeth would not allow them their demands for a purified church finally purged of its remaining vestiges of popery—such as bishops and clerical robes—then what of her successor? Elizabeth might well have suppressed serious religious dissent within her realm. But what would happen after her death? Was there not a serious danger of radical religious upheaval just over the horizon? This was certainly what many members of the Anglican establishment feared; it was also, of course, precisely what many Puritans were hoping for.
When it was announced that Elizabeth would be succeeded by James VI of Scotland, English Puritans believed their moment had come. James had earlier supported the reforms of John Knox and had created a Reformed church modeled along pure Genevan lines in his old realm. Surely he could be relied upon to do the same in England? The Puritans decided to seize the initiative and steal a march on their Anglican opponents.
On his way from Edinburgh to London in April 1603, James was met by a Puritan delegation that presented him with the “Millenary Petition,” signed by more than one thousand ministers of the Church of England. Its authors went out of their way to stress their loyalty to both king and country. They had, they declared, served their church faithfully, despite their serious misgivings concerning its practices; the time had now come to change things. They demanded reforms, in particular the removal of the “burden of human rites and ceremonies” such as making the sign of the cross in baptism, wearing clerical dress, using a ring in the marriage service, and bowing at the name of Jesus. All these practices were unbiblical, they argued, and therefore could not be required of any minister of the church.
It soon became clear that James had little sympathy with such demands for reform. His personal sympathy lay with moderate Calvinist beliefs, more in line with those associated with Geneva than those now emerging from Amsterdam.37 Ideas, however, were one thing; practices were another. James’s Scottish experience had created something of an aversion on his part to the more austere forms of Presbyterian church culture and convinced him that, just as Geneva was a republic, so Calvin’s followers were covert revolutionaries. His views on this matter were shaped to no small extent by some unpleasant experiences with Scottish presbyteries, particularly under Andrew Melville, a Scottish Presbyterian who had taught at the Genevan Academy and formed a close personal friendship with Calvin’s protégé Theodore Beza.
At a heated encounter between the king and senior churchmen at Falkland Palace in October 1596, Melville had physically taken hold of James and accused him of being “God’s silly vassal.” Melville pointedly declared that while he and his colleagues would support James as king in public, in private they all knew perfectly well that Christ was the true king in Scotland, and his kingdom was the kirk—a kingdom in which James was a mere member, not a lord or head. James was shaken by this physical and verbal assault, not least because it suggested that Melville and his allies posed a significant threat to the Scottish throne.
Apologists for the Anglican establishment were quick to spot their opportunity. Richard Bancroft and others set out to persuade James that his monarchy was dependent upon the episcopacy for its future. The ultimate goal of Puritanism, they argued, was to overthrow the monarchy altogether. Without the bishops of the Church of England, there was no future for the monarchy in England. The king’s real enemies, the “Papists” and the “Puritans,” had a vested interest in destroying his authority. Only a close working alliance with the bishops would preserve the status quo and allow James to exercise his (as he saw it) divinely ordained kingly role in state and church. It was a telling argument, and it hit home.
In the end, James I developed his own policy that managed to contain Puritanism’s agendas without leading to any major alterations to the practices or beliefs of the established church.38 The Puritans were offered scraps of consolation and promises of future change that either never materialized or amounted to surprisingly little. James promised a new English translation of the Bible, which some Puritans may unwisely have hoped would strengthen their position; when the famous “King James Version” was published in 1611, it turned out to use the traditional language favored by Anglicans rather than the more radical terms preferred by Puritans.
To sensitive Puritan consciences, James seemed hostile, or at best indifferent, to their concerns. Not only did the established church retain many “popish” ceremonies and practices, but James seemed to encourage cultural activities that were inconsistent with a strict interpretation of biblical commandments. One flashpoint in these “culture wars” was the “Book of Sports”; issued by James I in 1618, it explicitly authorized and encouraged the Sunday sports and rural festivals denounced by many Puritans as sinful pagan profanations of the Sabbath.39 James countered the growing Puritan demands for rigorous observance of the Sabbath by denouncing such “Puritans and Precisians” as failing to care for human recreational needs.40 James demanded that
after the end of divine service our good people be not disturbed, letted or discouraged from any lawful recreation, such as dancing, either men or women; archery for men, leaping, vaulting, or any other such harmless recreation, nor from having of May-games, Whitsun-ales, and Morris-dances; and the setting up of May-poles and other sports therewith used.
While bear-baiting was forbidden on the Sabbath, the English people were permitted to enjoy a wide range of alternative recreations. Adding insult to injury, James insisted that his “Book of Sports” be read aloud from the pulpit during regular Sunday worship. For many Puritan groups, compromise seemed impossible. In 1607 a congregation from Scrooby, England, initially fled to Holland; eventually they migrated on the Mayflower to establish the Plymouth Colony on the shore of Cape Cod Bay in North America in 1620.
In the end, apart from taking the somewhat drastic step of emigrating to America, there was little that the frustrated Puritans could do other than wait for James to die and hope that his successor might open doors that, up to this point, had remained firmly closed. The shape of English Protestantism might yet be changed by royal decree. If not, there were other options. Could not a case be made for overthrowing monarchs if they stood in the way of the advance of Protestantism? It was a dangerous thought, sown in despair. Its time would come, perhaps sooner than anyone might have anticipated.