ments of
cold facts convey no conception of the confusion and sorrow that must
have accompanied this terrific and wholesale assault upon an institution
that had been accumulating its possessions for eight hundred years. At
this distance from those tragic events, it is impossible to realize the
dismay of those who stood aghast at this ruthless destruction of such
venerable establishments.

_The Effect of the Suppression Upon the People_

For months the country had seen what was coming; letters from abbots and
priors poured in upon the king and parliament, begging them to spare the
ancient strongholds of religion. The churchmen argued: "If he plunders
the monasteries, will not his next step be to plunder the churches?"
They recalled what Sir Thomas More had said of their sovereign: "It is
true, his majesty is very gracious with me, but if only my head would
give him another castle in France, it would not be long before it
disappeared." Sympathy for the monks, an inborn conservatism, a natural
love for ancient institutions, a religious dread of trampling upon that
which was held sacred by the church, a secret antipathy to reform, all
these and other forces were against the suppression. But the report of
the visitors was appalling, and the fear of the king's displeasure was
widespread; so the bill was passed amid mingled feelings of joy,
sympathy, hatred, fear, anxiety and uncertainty. The bishops were
sullen; Latimer was disappointed, for he wanted the church to have
the proceeds.

Outside of Parliament there was much discontent among the nobles and
gentry of Roman tendencies. Even the indifferent felt bitter against the
king, because it seemed unjust that the monks, who had been sheltered,
honored and enriched by the people, should be so rudely and so suddenly
turned out of their possessions. A dangerously large portion of the
people felt themselves insulted and outraged. At first, however, there
were few who dared to voice their protests. "As the royal policy
disclosed itself," says Green, "as the monarchy trampled under foot the
tradition and reverence of ages gone by, as its figure rose, bare and
terrible, out of the wreck of old institutions, England simply held her
breath. It is only through the stray depositions of royal spies that we
catch a glimpse of the wrath and hate which lay seething under the
silence of the people." That silence was a silence of terror. To use the
figure by which Erasmus describes the