Sarum - Edward Rutherfurd [452]
The cause was peace – and compromise.
The years of Queen Elizabeth’s reign, thanks to her clever diplomacy, had given her island kingdom mostly peace, so far at least.
As for the religious settlement, to Shockley it seemed a masterpiece. It was a compromise. Copying her father, Elizabeth was Supreme Governor of the Church. The Prayer Book of Cranmer, with small changes, was restored. All people must attend church. Office holders must swear the Oath of Supremacy. The communion was taken in two kinds: bread and wine; the services were said in English. All this was Protestant, but moderate.
And many Catholics liked the English services, which were so arranged that there was little there to offend them anyway.
For the rest, there must be no disorder; the enforcing of the oaths could be as lax as they pleased. As for what men believed in their hearts . . . Unlike her half sister, Elizabeth had little religious feeling. She only knew the fear of persecution. She would, she said, make no window into men’s souls; let them believe what they liked: so long as they went to her church, or paid a small fine.
And up and down the country, while strict Catholics or extreme Puritans denounced the changes, men like Edward Shockley heaved a sigh of relief.
It was imperfect, hypocritical, cynical – and absolutely sensible.
Around her, the new queen had gathered a number of sound advisers including Pembroke, who for the fourth reign in succession, kept himself in high favour, and that sage councillor William Cecil. They understood the value of her cautious approach, and they helped her to make wise appointments. One of these was the gentle scholar and friend of Cranmer, Matthew Parker, who was made Archbishop of Canterbury; another was the new Bishop of Salisbury, John Jewel.
It was Jewel who transformed the Sarum diocese by his endless hard work and preaching. It was Jewel, also, who wrote one of the most important documents in the history of the Anglican Church: his Apology.
The Apology won Edward Shockley’s mind and heart.
“It is so simple you cannot argue against it,” he told his family with delight. “Our English Church is no new invention, no denial of authority: ’tis an exact return to the Church as it was set forth in the Scriptures – in the early centuries before Rome added its own doctrines and practices to muddy the clear waters. We celebrate Our Lord with bread and wine – as He ordained we should. We have bishops, as did the early Church; but there is nothing in the early Church concerning a pope at Rome, nor many of the Roman pomp and vanities; we have purified England of copes and altar cloths, relics, indulgences and superstition: that is all.”
And it was Jewel who finally taught Edward Shockley to come to terms with himself. Shockley always remembered the interview.
The bishop was such a small, slight fellow, with a sweet, thin, irregular face and gentle but hugely intelligent brown eyes. Study had made him prematurely old: his hair was thinning. But he was so wise.
He had imbibed advanced Protestant doctrines while he was in exile on the Continent in Mary’s reign, but at Sarum he was cautious.
“The spire was struck by lightning just before I came,” he joked to Edward, “so I took it as a warning to be careful. Here in Sarum,” he explained, “there are still many false shows from the old popish days: fine chalices, the robes of the priests, the altar cloths,” he ticked off the items that were to be found in churches all over the diocese. “In Basle or Geneva, we should have laughed at them. But now I have returned to England, I see that I must be patient, Master Shockley. Patience is my guide. I shall change these things gradually. And you, too, must learn to be patient – even with yourself. God will judge you soon enough.”
Now that he felt he had nothing to fear, his sense of shame disappeared. He was frank with Katherine about