Book Review

Space for dissent - but at a price

Charitable Hatred: tolerance and intolerance in England, 1500-1700

In the reign of Henry VIII about 50 Protestants, proto-Protestants, Anabaptists and oddities were burned for heresy; two suffered under Edward VI, perhaps 290 under Mary, six under Elizabeth and two under James I in 1612. In Henry's reign, around 60 Catholics were executed as papists; 187 Catholics suffered under Elizabeth, 25 under James, two between 1625 and 1640 (under Charles I), 26 between 1641 and 1660, and another 24 as a result of the "Popish Plot" of 1678. The denominational tally is pretty even: whoever was in charge, religion was a bloody business. Why did the state persecute and local officials and parish neighbours cooperate? There were three broad reasons for the slaughter. The first was pastoral: to drive misbelievers to repentance and save Christ's people from contamination. The second was propitiatory: God must not be mocked and he would punish those who allowed error to flourish. And the third was panic: persecution came in waves, often associated with plots and invasion  scares.

But look at the problem another way: fewer than 700 people died for their beliefs in a century and a half; fewer than five a year. If sectarian hatred and fear were so strong, why so few? Why didn't Catholics burn more Protestants as heretics, and why didn't Protestants hang more Catholics as traitors? Why weren't even more Protestants killed when they had been encouraged to overthrow Queen Mary? Why weren't more Catholics executed when the Armada was coming, and why didn't more die when the Irish were thought to be coming in the 1640s?

England was a confessional state, expecting unity in religion - but the religion kept changing, and the persecuted became the persecutors. In a divided society there were plenty of opportunities for bloodbaths, but they rarely came. One explanation is concern that they would threaten public order, and another is bureaucratic inefficiency: a consistent and determined campaign against deviants was beyond any regime's power. So there were attempts to distinguish "loyal" Catholics from the disloyal, notably by the Oath of Allegiance in 1606, and Treasury officials argued it made more sense to fine papists than to execute them or drive them into exile. There were diplomatic calculations too - especially when royal marriages were being made and the best candidates were Catholics.

And what of the persecuted? Well, for both Catholics and Protestants, there was certainly a cult of martyrdom and some wanted to suffer in the witness for Christ. It is astonishing how many faced the prospect of torment, and went through with it - when avoidance was usually possible. Some did recant, and found there was still the torment of a guilty conscience. But for most, Catholics and Protestants, it never came to that: they made the compromises and concessions that saved them from fines, fires and the gallows. Their leaders wrote of The Hurt of Hearing Mass (John Bradford, 1554) and Reasons Why Catholics Refuse to go to Church (Robert Persons, 1581), but Protestants went to Mass under Mary, and Catholics went to matins under Elizabeth. Well, you would, wouldn't you? Protestants looked down at the elevation of the Host, Catholics stuffed wool in their ears and read from a primer or a book of hours. There were lots of excuses for not being at the parish church: a sick child; a visiting friend; a lame horse. And the system usually didn't check.

It is not surprising that the persecuted minorities had strategies of evasion and mostly chose not to die (or pay fines) on behalf of their religion. More telling is that the persecuting majority had strategies of coexistence and mostly chose not to oppress on behalf of their religion. Dissenters, Lollards, Protestants, papists, Nonconformists, Baptists and Quakers were recognised in their communities, known for their differences. But usually they were not turned in: if they would just go to church sometimes, behave like good neighbours and not be too stiff-necked, they were safe; until the Armada or the Irish were coming, and then it could be different.

Religious division in England both made persecution and contained it. Uniformity of belief could not be achieved so uniformity of conduct would have to do. There would be no prying into consciences (except the political consciences of priests), only an insistence on church attendance - so occasional conformity might be enough to avoid fines or worse. There was space for dissent, Catholic and Protestant, at a price - and the price was compromise.

Alexandra Walsham tackles all these compromises and confusions in a realistic study of persecutors, victims and the many who muddled through. For those who know their Church history, she labours the obvious; for those who do not, it is a demanding read.

Most of the material is culled from secondary works, but arranged in interesting themes. Walsham argues that there was no liberating progress from persecuting barbarity to tolerant civilisation. Rather, there was a constant interaction between the urge to crush the ideological enemy and the imperative to coexist with the fellow-citizen - and another interaction between the urge to separate from the godless and the imperative to get along with everybody else. Religious belief was not the only treasured value, and neighbourliness mattered too. When a rioting crowd was called to attack a recusant household in 1780, some cried "What are Catholics to us? We are only against popery!" It wasn't tolerance, but it was a start.

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