From the start of her reign, Mary was determined to restore the old religion in its fullness, and before she even arrived in London she had sent letters to Pope Julius III with a view to reconciling England with Rome. But this was not going to be an easy process. Mary had steadfastly held to the Mass under Edward, so it was no surprise when she promptly set about dismantling the Edwardine Reformation. But, after initial recalcitrance, she had succumbed to her father’s royal supremacy in 1536, and nothing she had said or done since had led anyone to expect that she would wish to undo that as well. One wonders whether she made some private vow in the turmoil of July 1553, promising to restore papal supremacy if God granted her victory. If so, she made no attempt to do so in her first Parliament, and in the first version of her royal style to be promulgated, on i October 1553, she retained the title of Supreme Head like her brother and father before her. Nevertheless, by the end of the year her intentions were becoming apparent, for the title of ‘Supreme Head’ was quietly dropped from official documents.
The man chosen to effect the reconciliation was Cardinal Reginald Pole, a cousin of Henry VIII who had been in self-imposed exile since the early 1530s. Educated at Oxford and then Padua, Pole had initially assisted in Henry’s pursuit of his divorce from Catherine of Aragon, before resuming his theological studies in Italy rather than involve himself any further. Henry’s advisers were still hoping to win his support for the break with Rome in 1535, but after the executions of Fisher and More he had penned a Defence of the Unity of the Church which argued at length against the divorce and the supremacy, asserted the rights of the papacy, and urged the king in no uncertain terms to repentance. Pole’s promotion as a cardinal in 1536, followed by the publication of this tract in 1537, burned his boats with Henry. Cardinal Pole was twice entrusted by Pope Paul III with implementing Henry VIII’s excommunication (first early in 1537 in response to the Pilgrimage of Grace, and then again early in 1539 in response to the burning of Becket’s bones). He had also played an important part in reforming efforts in the Catholic Church, both in Rome itself and at the Council of Trent (ironically, Pole was actually more sympathetic than Henry VIII to the theology of Martin Luther). He was therefore the obvious choice for appointment as papal legate to England in response to Mary’s request to return her country to the fold. However, his path was far from smooth, and it would be more than a year before his mission could even begin.
The great obstacle to reconciliation with Rome was not a matter of principle but a question of property. The plunder of the Church in which almost the entire ruling class of England had eagerly participated since the break with Rome was, under the canon law of the Roman Catholic Church, a sacrilege which entailed instant excommunication. Political realists - including King Philip and Bishop Gardiner - knew full well that reconciliation would be contingent on a papal dispensation confirming them in possession of their loot. Idealists and rigorists - such as Queen Mary and Cardinal Pole - were inclined to be less accommodating. The realists prevailed, and when Cardinal
Reginald Pole finally came to England, he grudgingly brought a dispensation with him. Once Parliament had hastily repealed Henry VIII’s act of attainder against him, Pole crossed from France, and made his way to London, where he was greeted by King Philip at Whitehall on 24 November 1554. On 28 November Parliament convened, not in its usual place, but in the Great Chamber of Whitehall Palace, as the queen was ill and did not wish to go outdoors. After a brief speech from Lord Chancellor Gardiner, they listened to a lengthy sermon from Cardinal Pole, which recapitulated the Christian history of England and emphasised the providential benefits of communion with Rome, and the providential price of schism. Next day, Parliament met in its own chambers to debate the issue, and agreed, with only one dissenting voice, to return to the Roman obedience. No condition was explicitly attached to this measure, but everyone knew the real political price was the dispensation to retain Church lands. The gentry and nobility of England drove a hard bargain for their souls.
On Friday 30 November, Parliament once more convened in the Great Chamber at Whitehall, for a ceremony unique in parliamentary and ecclesiastical history, the granting of absolution for national schism through a nation’s representative institution. Gardiner, as Lord Chancellor, presented to Philip and Mary a petition for absolution, begging them in turn to present it to the cardinal. This brief but pithy document expressed repentance for the passage of laws against the Holy See, promised to repeal them, and concluded with the pious hope that:
We may as children repentant be received into the bosom and unity of Christ’s Church, so as this noble realm, with all the members thereof, may in this unity and perfect obedience to the See Apostolic and popes for the time being, serve God and Your Majesties to the furtherance and advancement of his honour and glory. Amen.
Cardinal Pole had his papal authorisation read out in full, and then solemnly granted absolution to the assembly.
The moment of national absolution was made doubly significant by the announcement of a landmark in Mary’s pregnancy, the quickening of her child. Upon meeting the cardinal, Mary claimed, she felt the child leap in her womb as John the Baptist had done when the Virgin Mary greeted his mother, Elizabeth. The cardinal had played his part by greeting her with the words of Elizabeth to Mary, ‘Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb’. This news was formally announced in St Paul’s on the day of Cardinal Pole’s address to Parliament and the bishop of London ordered public prayers and processions of thanksgiving for the quickening of the child and of intercession for a healthy pregnancy and safe delivery. With hindsight, the element of wishful thinking in this excessively happy timing is all too clear. But at the time the announcement must have seemed, as it was meant to seem, like a glorious divine vindication of Mary’s policy, indeed of her entire life. The schism had begun with the birth of a child who had displaced Mary from the succession. Now Mary had reclaimed her birthright, and would seal the end of the schism by giving birth to her own child.
Her hopes, however, were doomed to frustration, although it is worth recalling that while hindsight speaks, correctly, of Mary’s ‘false pregnancy’, it seemed real enough at the time to all except her bitterest enemies, such as the French ambassador. In April 1555 Mary retreated into the privacy of Hampton Court in order to prepare for labour, and at the end of the month a rumour swept London to the effect that she had given birth to a son. It was of course false, but there were still no doubts about the queen’s condition. In May, letters were drawn up to announce the news of the birth to the courts of Europe, and ambassadors were appointed to deliver them. But when the apparent onset of labour in early June proved illusory, doubts began to spread rapidly about the entire pregnancy. Soon only Mary still believed, and by August even she had given up hope. Philip’s departure on business to the Netherlands later that month was the nearest thing to a public announcement that the pregnancy had been false. He would not have left had his wife been imminently expecting a child. He was not to return for nearly two years. After the disappointment of 1555, few were convinced when, around New Year 1558, news of a royal pregnancy was announced for the second time.
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