But the Puritans were fast gaining the upper hand; Parliament haggled with the King over the supplies, and frightful scenes were enacted in the churches.

“Last Sunday morning,” wrote Rosetti, “many Protestants and Puritans being assembled at church to celebrate their sacrament, it came to a great contest between them; some were determined to communicate sitting, others kneeling.  From words they passed to blows, causing much disturbance.”

The other day, a large number of Puritans went into a Protestant Church, and upset the altars which stood against the wall with rails in front of them, where people were going to Communion in the Catholic manner.  They took possession of twelve statues representing the twelve apostles, and carried them with cries and tumult into the Parliament.”

On another occasion he wrote:—­

“The Archbishop of Canterbury persecutes the Catholics more than ever.  On the vigil of Pentecost, I am told by a trustworthy person, he threw himself at the King’s feet, beseeching him to proceed against the Catholic religion, at least from political interests, if not from conscientious motives.”

Laud was terrified.  All that he had done to imitate Catholicism he now undid, as far as he was able, in order, if possible, to pacify the Puritans.  The order to bow at the holy Name was revoked, the communion-tables were replaced in the middle of the churches, and from being called altars were renamed tables.  The altar rails were abolished, and the people communicated after the Calvinist manner.  A quantity of Catholic books were ostentatiously burned in a public square, and the state of affairs looked less like reunion with Rome than ever.

But all that Laud did availed him nothing; the disturbances continued in the churches, and scarcely a service was held without a quarrel arising as to the manner of conducting it, some fighting for one posture, some for another.

Neither did the Archbishop become more popular with the multitude.  A courageous stand against the Puritans might have inspired them with some respect for their enemy; yielding to them from fear only made them more formidable.  Sometimes the High Church party would still score a victory here and there.  A Puritan holding forth one day in Westminster Abbey, with the usual flow of epithets, on the difference between the Catholic religion and that of the Puritans, the Bishop of Lincoln rose, and declared that his language was unbecoming in a pulpit, put an end to the sermon, and forced the preacher to come down.

But these triumphs were rare; few of the king’s men were as bold as the Bishop of Lincoln.  All seemed to be painfully busy in saving their skins, while the Parliamentarians complained loudly and efficaciously that Charles had allowed the primate to foist a new religion upon them.  Through the primate they proceeded to attack the King.  Placards began to appear all over London, with declarations to the effect that the people were determined to enjoy the liberty with which they were born, and to maintain the integrity of their religious worship.  One of these placards was discovered one morning nailed to the gate of the royal palace at Whitehall.  On it were these words:  “Charles and Maria, doubt not but that the archbishop must die!”