276 The Reformation of England

Stephen Gardiner's chapel

The plan was that 1555 saw the transformation of England – the birth of an heir for Mary and Philip, the launch of a new Reformation Anglicae to re-invigorate Roman Catholicism in England

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It’s a funny thing, and a funny thing that we will return to later I have no doubt, that amidst the horror of Mary’s burnings, there is plenty of space and time also to feel deeply sympathetic for her personally. Because of the various horriblenesses of her life, inflicted on her by her father; and now because so much relied on her pregnancy. On the one hand, the first 5 months of 1555 must have been one of the happiest period in Mary’s life; she was confident of her pregnancy, married, Catholic counter reformation rolling out, her mother’s memory properly vindicated. On the other hand, the pressure must have been intense, with the danger inherent in early modern childbirth, and the boy or girl issue; although, maybe Mary herself had now much reduced the pressure of the gender thing. But it was so important that she have an heir, until she did all of Mary’s achievements felt temporary. It was not just Mary and the English who waited, anxiously, mouth open paused over the iced bun or whatever, cup of tea steaming bun-side while they watched. Relations between the Empire and France were fractious, and peace negotiations were stalled because an heir would strengthen the Empires negotiating position enormously.

Mary’s due date was set by her largely clueless physicians for on or before 9th May, and after Easter at the start of April Mary and Philip moved to Hampton Court down the river from Westminster, and the queens apartments were prepared and she moved in; interestingly, she would have preferred Windsor, but it was considered too far away for her safety, so worries about resistance to her reign were clearly taken seriously. The weather was bloody awful, which is par for the course obviously, this is April we are talking about here, and as we know APRIL is the cruellest month. Folks were even now beginning to worry about the harvest, but for Mary and her court these were minor concerns. Everything was surely set fair.

Little sister Elizabeth, meanwhile, and was having a thoroughly irritating and frustrating time imprisoned at Woodstock, north of Oxford, in the charge of the none too sharp Henry Bedingfield. For Elizabeth, Mary’s birth also had the potential to utterly transform her life of course – with an heir wiggling its little toesies in its little cotty wotty, Elizabeth became an irrelevance. There was a very, very strong likelihood that Mary would never allow her to marry, and, kept under a cloud of suspicion it was looking either like a short life or a really boring one with no political influence or independence. Bedingfield kept a diary while he was Elizabeth’s jailer, and he noted that after Mary’s marriage to Philip, during church services she resolutely refused to take part in the prayer for the health of the king and queen. Which is very naughty.

It’s probably for these two considerations that Elizabeth made poor old Henry Bedingfield’s life merry hell. She might be in prison, but Elizabeth had many advantages over her putative boss. Firstly, she was royal, and he wasn’t – so whenever he spoke to her, he had to do so kneeling. Kneeling in front of your opponent really sucks as a position of negotiation or authority, really it does. Secondly, she was superbly educated and Henry was…well, less so. And finally, she was as sharp as a knife, while Henry was as sharp as a strawberry. So, Elizabeth kept insisting she be allowed to plead her cause with Mary and the Council, Bedingfield found himself manoevred into allowing it. Mary however found Elizabeth’s pleadings no more than irritating and unconvincing, and was quite brutal in return. When finally goaded into a reply, Mary wrote to Henry rather than giving Elizabeth the satisfaction of a direct reply, which was clever of Mary. She simply dismissed Elizabeth’s arguments remarking that Elizabeth might have enjoyed her favour long ago if her constant claims of innocence had

So well satisfied indifferent ears as it seemed to satisfy her own opinion

Basically, as far as Mary was concerned Elizabeth was guilty, everyone else thought so too, it’s just that she May couldn’t prove it and that was that.

Then near the end of April, Mary’s attitude seemed to change, and Elizabeth was summoned back to court. It was Gardiner that met her and he returned immediately to the place they’d left off, demanding that she admit her guilt. There remained no flies on Elizabeth, and she side-stepped the questions with ease, where again it helps if your interlocutor is kneeling while they try to browbeat you. There matters rested for a couple of weeks until at 10 O’Clock one night, Elizabeth was summoned to see the Queen. This was a little worrying – 10 pm, surely everyone’s in bed by then unless Match of the Day’s on? Elizabeth immediately suspected an assassination attempt, but she was taken to the queen’s private staircase. There followed a mildly grumpy conversation, but when Elizabeth again refused to admit to any wrongdoing the matter was finally allowed to rest. Elizabeth had apparently finally been fully forgiven.

Why, is something of a question. It could be that Mary was just feeling super confident and felt she could safely pity her younger, futureless sister. Or it could be as John Foxe claimed that it was Phillip and the Spanish courtiers who had talked Mary round; there’s even a suggestion that Philip was hiding in the room when the meeting took place. It seems reasonably secure that Philip felt no more than respect for Mary, and that his interest in England was mainly strategic. So there’s a suggestion that it was in Philip’s interest to keep on friendly terms with both royals, just in case Mary was in fact actually ill.

Well, that seems probably history from the wrong end – that is to say, attributing a remarkable level of foresight from Philip by looking back with hindsight. But it’s not quite as far fetched as you might think. Because there had been constant rumours that Mary’s pregnancy was a fake.

But all that was dispelled when on 30th April 1555 the bells started ringing like billy-o announcing the birth of a royal child. Wild! Everyone went potty. The news spread like a rash, and the bells were rung in Antwerp to celebrate an Imperial child, and the imperial court celebrated. Fantastic! Mary had secured the future of her Tudor dynasty, the Catholic succession was secure, the protestant religion was slowly ground out of the remaining believers, England remained tied to a Catholic continental mainland and France was forced into subjection over the next century by the overweening might of the Hapsburg empire and friends. In perfect safety, England’s naval strength was unrequired and was scaled back until England became an offshoot of the mighty Spanish Empire which rules Europe to this day. The End. That gentle listeners is, the end of the History of England. Good luck everyone and have a great life.


Not really obviously. Actually I’ve never been very good at counterfactual history but you know maybe something like that would have happened, who knows. Sadly, for Mary, it was a false alarm. Never mind, still time left, and Mary certainly claimed that she could feel the child moving. But scepticism was growing, and as the month passed, poor Mary must have been assailed by doubts. She spent hours sitting on the floor of her room with her knees drawn up to her chin, which I am reliably informed is not an ideal position if you really are 9 months pregnant. By 24th Mary, casting around for explanations, decided that this was God’s judgement, and that until more progress had been made cleansing the land of heretics she would not deliver, and a circular was sent out urging the bishops to make more haste with the persecutions. Giovanni Michieli reported the tension had held the whole court in its grip

Everything is in suspense, and dependant on the result of this delivery; which according to the opinion of the physicians unless it takes place at this new phase of the moon two days hence may be protracted beyond the full and its occultation on the 4th or 5th of next month her majesty’s belly having greatly declined, which is said yet more to indicate the approaching term

Giovanni was more optimistic than most. News slipped out from Sarah Clarencius that she thought the queen as not pregnant but ill; Philip’s secretary Ruy Gomez wrote ‘all this makes me wonder whether she is with child at all, greatly as I desire the thing to be happily over’. Noailles the French Ambassador was more contemptuous of the whole thing.

Worse, Mary’s misery seems to be reflected in the weather and economy; the weather was dreadful, prices were rocketing, and many were starring at the prospect of painful shortages, throwing themselves on the mercy of their parish or even at starvation. Protestant pamphlets and bills threw scorn and conspiracy theories at her pregnancy.

Incredibly, poor Mary remained hopeful and determined. Some of her ladies summoned up the courage to express doubts, which allows me to bring the name Frideswide Strelley once more to your attention, for t’was she, Strelley who voiced said doubts. But Mary clung desperately on; even as late as the middle of July she wrote to her Ambassador in Brussels telling him to deny the rumours that she was no longer pregnant. Mary had become practically a recluse, and could no longer bear to look anyone in the face, there to see unbearable sympathy and a truth that she could hardly any more deny to herself. The court was a hothouse, stuffed full of noble men and women come to stay to share the joy of the royal birth, the latrines no doubt overflowing, the daily processions and prayers for the baby’s delivery carrying on regardless in an atmosphere of growing cynicism and disbelief ,expressed behind hands and round corners and in secret – but never openly. Giovanni again wrote of

The Queen’s remaining so many days in retirement…to the prejudice of her subjects; as not only did she transact no business, but would scarcely allow herself to be seen by any of her ladies

Meanwhile while Mary shut herself away her unbearably relaxed, confident and intelligent sister was making herself pleasant to the court, English and Spanish, how unbearably annoying of her

‘At the time of the queen’s pregnancy, Lady Elizabeth, when made to come to the court, contrived so to ingratiate herself with all the Spaniards, and especially the King, that ever since no one has favoured her more than he does,’

And the rumour ran round that she’d set her cap at the king and that the king was not immune to the attractions of Elizabeth’s cap. I do hope Mary never heard or saw anything, the level of irritation would have been surely thermonuclear.

But eventually by the end of July, 3 months overdue, the damn broke and the waters of hope and optimism ran through the sluices to drown the parched land of reality,

‘Ah, Strelley, Strelley, I see they be all but flatterers and none true to me but thou.’

Wept Mary, and admitted that Strelley had been right. Maybe it’s Frideswide. Mary could no longer hold on tight to her dreams. There was no official announcement – but by 4th August 1555 the daily procession and prayers were stopped, the nursery attendants, rockers and teensy weensy clothes sent away, the courtiers got the message and gratefully reached for home, the latrines breathed a huge sigh of relief and the court moved to Oatlands. I had not heard of Oatlands until this moment – it looks as though it would have been nice in Tudor times, very Hampton court like. It is now much changed and a hotel. Lord knows what the hotel industry would have done without the royal family.

What a hideous nightmare though for Mary. Her friends and supporters were appalled of course. But the protestants labouring under her whips were very, very relieved. A prince would have made the king supreme they feared;

His father will bring into this realm his own nation, and put out the English nation

Sadly, it was not going to get any better for Mary. So there was Phillip, still just 28 years old, trapped in a marriage that from his point of view was loveless, and which was looking alarming as though it would be childless to boot. Meanwhile his Dad was getting increasingly old and incapable and generally cranky as father’s do, and had taken to wearing his socks and open toed sandals in public and was desperate to hand his empire over to Phillip and Ferdinand. Philip had wanted to be off from English shored before, and now the desire was overwhelming. But Phillip had the awareness to know that this was going to be something of a blow to Mary. So he did what blokes do in this situation and asked a mate to help him write him a letter, or at least he drafted it out and asked for device, along with a note to said mate, in this case Ruy Gomez

Let me know what line I am to take with the Queen about leaving her, and about religion. I see I must say something, but God help me!

It seems far too convenient that Charles V chose this moment to summon his son to the Netherlands, but that is what happened, and Phillip screwed up courage to tell Mary. Which was sad, since I would imagine a few evenings in with Pizza, a bottle of wine and a few games of Boggle would have been restorative, but it was not to be. She wrote to Charles V.

I firmly hope that the King’s absence will be brief, for I assure your majesty that quite apart from my own feelings, his presence in this kingdom has done much good and is of great importance for the good government of this country. For the rest, I am content with whatever may be your majesty’s pleasure

May I say a few things about this snippet, or gobbet, though honestly gobbet is an unattractive word. It seems remarkable again at the deference the head of the English state offered up to the head of a foreign state, and such a letter feeds the story of a Mary in thrall to her hormones and husband. But hold on just a god-darned minute there, bald eagle. What if I tell you that Phillip drew the same conclusions, or appeared to, and set up his own privy counsel in England, whose job it was to sift the work of the royal Council, and transmit directly to Philip that which was important? And what if I were to tell that this wizard wheeze never worked, because Mary refused to be bypassed in such a way? Mary was many things, but she’s no pushover. May I also say that on a personal level, Mary is a generous soul, lavishly sharing praise for her friends, however brutal to her enemies.

Philip however could be described at very least as disingenuous. He decided that he would sweeten the pill by leaving his household in England, to convince Mary that, in the words of Oliver, he’d be back soon. The clever money at the time was on a steady drip drip of household members being called to the Netherlands until by a thousand cuts the household salami would be gone. To add to the disingenuous charge, which is essentially a nice way of saying duplicitous, we need to add insensitivity, because he then asked if – Elizabeth could go with him to see him off and recommended her to Mary! Come On! I mean…words fail me. Mary managed not to punch him in the mouth as it happens, and it was therefore so – Princess Elizabeth went to wave Philip off. Thanks for coming, by…

Mary was gutted, and would count the hours until Phillip could return. Michieli noted that she lost weight, and missed him:

‘The extreme need she has of her Consort’s presence harassing her, as she told me, she having also within the last few days in great part lost her sleep.’

By December, Phillip’s household had indeed been re-united with their Prince in the low Countries. Alfonso the Chaplain, like all of them probably, was jolly relieved to have shaken the dust of England from their Castillian boots.

The king’s confessor has arrived here and repeated a variety of foul language uttered by the English indicating their ill-will towards his majesty and the Spanish nation

Elizabeth was now free, and returned to her household at Hatfield, there to wait out events. Mary meanwhile now turned even more to Reginald Pole to be her rod and staff to comfort her. Reginald was installed in the palace to be near her, which was without doubt helpful, for there was now nothing more important than continuing the good work to bring her people back to the path of righteousness.

On August 3rd 1555, 6 protestants were burned at Canterbury. As the home of the great heretic himself, Thomas Cranmer, one of the areas that had welcomed the reformed religion with most enthusiasm, as home to the reformed smoker Bishop Richard Thornden and as home of the ABC Designate until Cranmer could be properly removed, Canterbury would be the site of many festivals of burnings, with multiple heretics burned on the same day. In October, England had finally been rid of Latimer and Ridley, where in Oxford as already related, they had played the man and lit a candle that, unbeknownst to Pole and Mary, would never be put out. From October to December only 8 would be burned, to bring the 1555 total to 76. Because Pole now had the more important part of his mission to attend to – remember – not to destroy but to build, that bit? Pole would work with his Bishops to create a vibrant, reformed, outward looking Catholicism that would consign England’s deviance to the bulging dustbin of history.

On 4th November Pole convened his clerical assembly at Westminster as Papal Legate. As it happens, he might have been slightly nervous about his legatine status. His great friend and supporter Julius III had died in March, and after brief month of a Marcellus he was succeeded as Pope by Pole’s great enemy, Gian Pietro Carafa, now calling himself Pope Paul IV. Paul IV was a supernova of resentments and furies with shoulders literally bowed down to the ground with chips. Well, figuratively bowed down with chips. The biggest chip of all was a towering hatred of the Spanish that would make the Burj Khalifa look like a sandcastle by comparison. If the Burj Khalifa has 210 floors and Paul IV’s hatred of the Spanish was in the 210th floor, then Pole had just moved into an apartment on the 209th. But Paul IV was not ready yet to spew his vengeance on Pole’s slippers; and slightly surprisingly for the moment he simply sent a nice letter confirming Pole’s position as Papal legate. But watch this space.

The clerical assembly started with a symbolic act of generosity from Mary – the return of the taxes called the first fruits and tenths, the tax paid by Bishops taking up new posts which Henry VIII had taken from the church for his own nefarious ends. Subject to approval by parliament of course. The Crown was also planning to introduce a bill to parliament to confiscate all the property belonging to the exiles, since they were obviously protestant backsliders, and that would be presented to parliament in the next few weeks. Once that grand gesture was introduced, the clerics started their work, which they would present the following February.

First of all though, came sad news, and it is time, gentle listeners, to say our farewells to one of the mightier figures that has bestrode our podcast like a colossus these past years. I speak of Wiley Winchester, Stephen Gardiner, who died on 19th November 1555 at the age of something approaching 60. I feel a genuine sadness, and contemporaries, whatever they thought of the man were also well aware of the significance of his passing. I feel slightly guilty, in that what I don’t believe I have really brought out about the man is the quality of his scholarship, and that is an egregious failing for which I heartily repent; he was a theologian of a European reputation, second only maybe to John Fisher. He was at the centre of the political stage for over 30 years, and could never be ignored, he’s right up there in terms of Tudor statesmen with Wolsey, Cromwell, Cecil, Walsingham. Like most he had to adapt politically, and there are changes in his position that gave some credence to John Foxe’s Wiley Winchester label, but really by and large he was a man of pretty consistent principles – the big one he had to abandon was his belief in the Royal supremacy, which he convinced himself of, under Henry VIII; but to give him his due, he recognised under Edward that he was not prepared to run with the fox and hunt with the hounds, and was duly dragged to prison metaphorically yelling as he went. He was essentially a conservative – in religion and socially, hating with a passion the appearance of the voices of the great unwashed, that access to the scriptures brought, through the reformation. He was without doubt arrogant, and irascible, a force always to be reckoned with; GR Elton said of him that he ‘always made enemies more readily than friends’, but while I would not dare to argue with the great man, C Armstrong in the ODNB notes that among his own people he also generated great loyalty; and he had a sense of humour, though a pretty abrasive one. I am put in mind of his goading of the Marian exiles by inviting them to supper and then rubbing his hands with glee when they legged it in terror. Elton also remarked that Gardiner had ‘an energetic, ranging, fertile mind with an eye to self-advancement’, and he was certainly a competent and intelligent administrator and public servant. Gardiner also had a great belief in his own political skills, he knew himself to be a political heavyweight; but actually, it’s here that his failures put him in the second rank; he didn’t quite possess the ruthless supremacy Cromwell had, and that Cecil will have. He put his foot firmly in the brown stuff at crucial times; he messed up with Henry at the crucial moment and as a result it was Cromwell that reigned supreme; he failed to destroy Cranmer in 1543, and Katherine Parr in 1546. He survived Edward only because he was in hands of gentler people – all things being comparative of course.

Anyway, he was gone, and would eventually be buried in a rather impressive chantry chapel in Winchester Cathedral which you can go and look at while enjoying all the wonders of Winchester. His Catholic allies of course were gutted, and a round of solemn and impressive celebrations were conducted. I think it’s fair to say that protestant enemies were less upset. No, that is probably not fair. They were jolly pleased, and as Cardinal Pole lamented, they were much heartened at the removal of an effective and impressive opponent.

So, while the clerics deliberated about how to re-invigorate Catholic practice, troubles crowded in on Mary and her government. Grain prices were causing enormous problems as the wet weather led to poor harvests in some places; in the winter of 1555 wheat prices there 3 times what they’d been a year before. They were set to go higher, but this was bad enough. Meanwhile, from the Netherlands, Phillip was setting out his stall. As we know, Phillip had never been happy with the idea of being a stay-at-home king; the lack of a prince, the experience of being back in the saddle was making Phillip somewhat more uncompromising – he wanted power. The symbol of this was his coronation – he’d never been crowned, everyone was nervous about how it would look – and now Phillip wrote demanding his due. When he’d left, Phillip had given the strong impression that this was the royal equivalent of nipping round the corner for a pint of milk; now his letters made a coronation a condition of coming back. Mary pointed out in reply that parliament wouldn’t wear it, and full credit to Mary – she was no tyrant. Phillip on the other hand thought this kind of know towing to the will of the people was so much namby pamby mealy mouthed, chicken livered populism and was tart, ladies and gentleman, tarter that a wet weekend in Bakewell, and told Mary to just use the royal prerogative. There it was left for the moment, and Philip stayed mouching around the corner shop looking at the cake section. Or rather sampling it, because on top of all that, Mary now had to put up with reports of Phillipine philandering. Utterly standard this might be for the time, but still, not nice for Mary given her evident feelings for Phillip.

And then there was parliament. As Mary had promised, the return of the First Fruits tax to the church was put before parliament. Parliament in response was rumbustious. Now we are used to parliamentary rumbustosity these days, back then it was supposed to do what it was told, but it seemed jolly close to not doing that. In the end it was fine, but Mary was unhappy with the tenor of debate, and with the tenor also of the debate about whether Philip should have his coronation. Which essentially confirmed Mary’s fears that parliament would not wear it. They would not. But look it was all fine in the end; the First fruits got through, though the vote at 193 to 126 is a most unusual level of resistance in a Tudor parliament. And there was a deal of economic and social legislation, re-enacting the poor law and vagrancy legislation of Henry and Edward, passing legislation to help out weavers and the cloth industry. These are areas I talk of little, and I redouble my determination to get to some social stuff once we have buried Mary. But Mary was irritated parliament’s surliness. And so she was proper ballistic when she heard of the events of 6th December.

Mary’s Council had introduced a punitive bill snappily entitled ‘for punishment of those such as being gone into parts beyond the sea shall contemptuously remain there, notwithstanding the King’s and Queen’s letters to them sent, or proclamation openly made for their calling home’. Titles, it must be said, was not a Tudors talent. For shorthand, it became known as ‘the duchess of Suffolk’s bill’, that being Catherine Willoughby who had fled Catholicism. Now the Duchess of Suffolk bill was hotly debated, hotly I say, many in parliament did not like it one little bit. Partly because of protestant feeling; the key player will be one Antony Kingston, a man of clearly protestant sympathies. But there were other worries; what did this bill say about the security of property, and property is king in Tudor England, and queen also. What were the real terms of this bill – after all, not all folks on the continent were there because they were prots.

This led to furious rows in the Commons as the bill went through its readings until it came to the third, and final reading. Sir George Howard and Sir Edward Hastings almost came to blows. A man called John Perrot became so angry that at supper he threw a dagger at the Earl of Pembroke, a worthy sentiment it must be said, dagger’s being too good for the backsliding Earl. There was a lot of opposition, but it appeared the bill would squeak through none the less. But on the 6th December, during another debate, Antony Kingston MP looked around and noticed that the Nays looked as though they had a temporary majority, with some of the Yeas having, I don’t know, nipped out to the loo or for a restorative bun or something. Quick as a flash, he and some pals seized the key of the Chamber from the serjeant-at-arms, blockaded the door, to stop anyone fetching government reinforcements, and insisted that the speaker should put the bill to the question. The bill was duly defeated.

Kingston was lobbed into jail by a furious Mary until a suitable volume of grovelling had been delivered. One of the other voters against the bill was one William Cecil, interestingly enough, prepared this time to put his head above the parapet, for which he was given a severe dressing down by William Paget. In reply Cecil calmly remarked

Although with danger to myself, I spoke my opinion freely and brought upon me some ill will thereby; but it is better to serve God than Man.

Despite the fury of the royal Council, the damage was done. It’s not the biggest matter, overall the 1555 parliament achieved plenty for the government but as David Starkey pointed out, this is an utterly exceptional level of parliamentary dissent for its time.

In February 1556, the Clerical assembly finally delivered its planned programme, in a document called the ‘Reformatio Angliae’, the Reformation of England. It’s a title that reminds us that reformation was not the sole preserve of Protestantism; and also conversely that the aim of Protestantism had been, and remained yet, to reform what they considered the true catholic church, simply not a Roman Catholic church. The programme put in place a series of measures to address the critical issue of the quality of the priesthood – the role of the Bishops to provide leadership in their dioceses, and clerical absenteeism and pluralism were attacked with specific measures put in place to improve matters.  Much has been made of the rejection of an offer by Loyola to establish a Jesuit college in England; in fact, Pole was perfectly friendly towards Loyola, but he had his own plans.  Therefore, a system of seminaries was to be established in England to train priests, and four such seminaries would indeed be established over the following years.

To add to this programme, monasteries began to be re-established, and the first indeed was established in this very year. The problem was that there was no prospect, as we have seen, of reclaiming the land and wealth of the dissolved monasteries, so everything had to be done from scratch; by 1558, 7 would have been established. You can look at this in two ways; either you snigger and pshaw, and mutter ‘7? Gosh, not very many is it?’ And you might reflect that of the 1,500 surviving ex-religious, only about 100 of them rejoined monasteries. You might also reflect that there was little sign of a resurgence of chantry chapels. Or you might point out that establishing new monasteries is not the job of a moment, and it takes time, and that the priority of the Catholic world had moved away from Chantries. Both views might be held reasonably, I guess.

Over the next couple of years these reforms and the efforts of the Bishops made significant progress in re-establishing not just catholic practice, but the fabric that supported it. Great efforts were made to reclaim the universities for Catholic teaching. A steady programme of the restoration of the altars, books and materials was carried on in the parishes, with steady success – in 1554, only half the parishes in Bath and Wells met all the requirements, by 1557, 86 per cent did so. Old habits began to return, and can be seen in churchwarden accounts, and in the making of wills; the old forms of requests for prayers for the dead, for example, began to creep back into wills, and grow in number.

Rather critically though, there was still to be no vernacular scripture. It was debated to and fro, but it was as yet too divisive for the Catholic bishops. Pole probably recognised that leaving vernacular scriptures as the preserve of the protestants was a serious failure, and there was some work done; a set of sermons in English for priests to use was produced. Pole established a group to produce a catechism in English, but when it arrived in 1558 it was in Latin. Nor was any coherent university curriculum produced.

In the end the summary of the Reformatio Anglicae might be that progress was clearly being made, and that Pole and his church were about much more than simply turning the clock back; and that with time, probably much more would have been achieved. But that it was not enough; and they were not to have that time. And meanwhile, attempts at reform would be conducted against a backdrop of protestant propaganda and resistance, uncertainty about the security of the succession – and therefore a lack of confidence in the permanence of the counter reformation.

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