Book Review: Dermot Fenlon's Study of Cardinal Pole and the Reformation

This book has been a challenge and a delight to read. A challenge because of the very careful research and scholarship Fenlon conducted requiring careful reading and attention, and a delight because he was a wonderful writer, thus making it a compelling read. As an example of the latter, here is his opening description of Reginald Pole's eventful life in the Preface:

Reginald Pole is a figure who slips into two overlapping historical perspectives. The first opens upon the history of Tudor England, the second upon that of the European Counter Reformation. In England, Henry VIII initiated two conflicting movements in the religious life of his country. The first began with his book on the sacraments and his attack on the Reformation, in the service of which he enlisted More and Fisher. The second began with his repudiation of papal jurisdiction, in the course of which he executed, among others, More and Fisher. The protagonists of the first movement became the victims of the second: they found a hagiographer in Reginald Pole. . . . (ix)

I could go to second the second paragraph of that Preface, but I think you get the idea of Fenlon's concision and balance in composition.

Several years ago, I listened to and commented upon a lecture by Eamon Duffy on Reginald Cardinal Pole in which Duffy addressed the need for a new biography of Pole (which this book is not: neither new nor a biography), in spite of Thomas F. Mayer's Reginald Pole: Prince and Prophet, recently published by Cambridge University Press in 2000 and available in paperback. In my 2019 post, I asked:

So why does Duffy want a new biography--or perhaps one that's more accessible (price!)--than this recent effort?

Duffy's main issue is that Mayer has no sympathy for his subject: he did not like Reginald Cardinal Pole and Duffy says it shows: in fact, Duffy states, Mayer "loathed Pole"! Duffy also cites Mayer's entry for Pole in the new Dictionary of National Biography, noting the same problem.

Duffy believes that Reginald Pole was "a holy man; a troubled man" and that Mayer judges him too harshly. Mayer thought he was a hypocrite and a sham! Duffy opines that Mayer's biography of Pole is "dense" and "elusive" . . . 

The reason I bring this point up is that Fenlon is sympathetic to Pole and his circumstances. He does acknowledge Pole's reticence and reserve, his taciturnity and the silence that seemed to indicate his consent to what others were saying, but Fenlon appreciates Pole's situation. He notes that reserve and seeming compliance with Henry VIII's Great Matter, when Pole was asked to help find support for Henry's point of view and finally asked, like More, to be exempted from this process on the grounds of conscience. Finally, he had to respond after the executions of More and Fisher, to what Henry VIII had done to the Unity of Church. His family was in danger after he wrote that letter to Henry, but so was Pole, even though he was on the Continent. The same situation--and response from Pole--occurs when he is asked to help lead the Council of Trent while he holds a view of personal Justification and Salvation that is similar to Martin Luther's at the same that he wants to maintain the Unity of Church and his own unity with the Church in all (other) ways. He stays silent until he has to speak.

Fenlon carefully guides the reader through the Italian and Roman landscape of the Reformation era (responding to calls for curial and Church reform and examining Lutheran objections) and the Counter-Reformation era (after it was clear to Pole and others that reunion with the Lutheran and Calvinist (etc) dissenters was impossible. Then Pole assents to the Catholic doctrine of Justification as defined by the Council of Trent. 

As I read Fenlon's recounting of this long crisis in Pole's life, I thought of Philip Hughes's description of Pole's character in Rome and the Counter-Reformation in England:

Hughes demonstrates that for all [Pole's] knowledge and love of Jesus and His Church, he lacked "irascible passion"; he was too ready to be a victim--and that he had "a temperament that instinctively turned from the hard, unpleasant realities of a problem to the ideal way in which it ought to be solved." (p. 43) Although Pole was a man of action and ready to promote reform and renewal, Hughes claims that he lacked audacity: he was not bold and he could not be stirred to righteous anger. Therefore, he wasn't able to take crucial action in a crisis. 

If Pole was "too ready to be a victim" he certainly became a victim of Pope Paul IV, the former Cardinal Carafa. On page 249 Fenlon describes the future pope's tendency to suspicion:

Suspicion, it would seem, was endemic to Carafa's mind. It could be forgotten for a while in a violent upsurge of emotional generosity: but under impulse it would start smoldering again. His temperament was absolute: equivocation seemed to him the mark of treachery.

Fenlon notes that as a Cardinal, Carafa could be persuaded to calm down and reconsider his suspicion of another. But as pope, "charged with the responsibility of protecting Christendom" (pp. 249-250), he could not be moved. Fortunately for Pole, neither could Queen Mary I, who refused to let Pole return to Rome to face the Inquisition, so that he remained her Archbishop of Canterbury, trying to re-establish Catholicism in England.

A most rewarding read; of course I bought my copy from a second-hand bookseller. It came to me unmarked and pristine. I've made my usual notations and the book kind of curled on its spine. I'm searching for a copy of Fenlon's paper, "The Counter Reformation and the Realisation of 'Utopia'" in Historical Studies: Papers Read in the Ninth Conference of Irish Historians, ed. J. Barry, 9 (Dublin, 1973).

Vittoria Colonna and Pole's "Spirituali" after Trent

I've nearly finished reading Father Dermot Fenlon's book about Reginald Cardinal Pole, the Lutheran doctrine of Justification, the Council of Trent, and the Counter-Reformation in Italy (and in England, to a lesser extent). One figure among the spirituali Cardinal Pole gathered around him in Viterbo is Vittoria Colonna, who died on February 25, 1547. According to the old Catholic Encyclopedia:

She was the daughter of Fabrizio Colonna, lord of various Roman fiefs and grand constable of Naples. Her mother, Agnese da Montefeltro, was a daughter of Federigo da Montefeltro, first Duke of Urbino. In 1509 Vittorio was married to Ferrante Francesco d'Avalos, Marquis of Pescara, a Neapolitan nobleman of Spanish origin, who was one of the chief generals of the Emperor Charles V. Pescara's military career culminated in the victory of Pavia (24 February, 1525), after which he became involved in Morone's conspiracy for the liberation of Italy, and was tempted from his allegiance to the emperor by the offer of the crown of Naples. Vittoria earnestly dissuaded him from this scheme, declaring (as her cousin, Cardinal Pompeo Colonna, tells us) that she "preferred to die the wife of a most brave marquis and a most upright general, than to live the consort of a king dishonoured with any stain of infamy". Pescara died in the following November, leaving his young heir and cousin, Alfonso d'Avalos, Marchese del Vasto, under Vittorio's care.

Vittoria henceforth devoted herself entirely to religion and literature. We find her usually in various monasteries, at Rome, Viterbo, and elsewhere, living in conventual simplicity, the centre of all that was noblest in the intellectual and spiritual life of the times. She had a peculiar genius for friendship, and the wonderful spiritual tie that united her to Michelangelo Buonarroti made the romance of that great artist's life. Pietro Bembo, the literary dictator of the age, was among her most fervent admirers. She was closely in touch with Ghiberti, Contarini, Giovanni Morone, and all that group of men and women who were working for the reformation of the Church from within. For a while she had been drawn into the controversy concerning justification by faith, but was kept within the limits of orthodoxy by the influence of the beloved friend of her last years, Cardinal Reginald Pole, to whom she declared she owed her salvation. Her last wish was to be buried among the nuns of S. Anna de' Funari at Rome; but it is doubtful whether her body ultimately rested there, or was removed to the side of her husband at San Domenico in Naples.

She wrote many Petrarchan sonnets to Michelangelo on religious themes; here are two "Recomposed by Anna Key" on Dappled Things, and you may find a translation of a poem he wrote to her on this page ("XII/ To Vittoria Colonna/A Matchless Courtesy)

Here's another biographical source, focused on her poetry.

In Father Dermot Fenlon's Heresy and Obedience in Tridentine Italy: Cardinal Pole and the Counter Reformation, Vittoria Colonna appears last in Chapter 13, "The Tridentine decree and the end of the Viterbo circle", pages 213-217. Fenlon describes how she wanted to help protect Alvise Priuli so he could peacefully achieve "simple acquiescence in the doctrine [of Justification] put forward at the Council" and remain in the Church, as she had. On page 215, he comments that "With her death, the Viterbo circle came to an end". In later chapters, the effect of her death on Cardinal Pole's last years is mentioned, but her efforts to help Priuli is her last dated correspondence.

Image Credit (public domain): Sebastiano del Piombo - Vittoria Colonna (?)

Pole and Pate in Tridentine Italy on the Doctrine of Justification

As I'm reading Father Dermot Fenlon's Heresy and Obedience in Tridentine Italy: Cardinal Pole and the Counter Reformation, I just read about one Richard Pate, the Bishop of Worcester appointed by Pope Paul III in 1541 after Henry VIII dismissed the incumbent Italian bishop, Cardinal Jerome Ghinucci in 1535 (the Pope was acting as if nothing had changed!). Bishop Richard Pate would not really take up his see until Queen Mary I came to the throne and was one of the co-consecrators of of Reginald Cardinal Pole in 1556 as Archbishop of Canterbury.

Like many during Henry VIII's reign, and beyond, he had an interesting career. According to the old Dictionary of National Biography (published 1885-1900), he had one great advantage: one of his uncles was Bishop John Longland of Lincoln, his mother's brother, as he was the:

son of John Pate by Elinor, sister of John Longland [q. v.], bishop of Lincoln, was born in Oxfordshire, probably at Henley-on-Thames, and was admitted on 1 June 1522 a scholar of Corpus Christi College, Oxford, whence he graduated B.A. on 15 Dec. 1523, according to Wood (Fasti, ed. Bliss, i. 63). This degree having been completed by determination, he went to Paris, and there graduated M.A. On 4 June 1523 he was collated by his uncle to the prebend of Centum Solidorum in the church of Lincoln, and he resigned it for that of Cropredy in 1525. He appears to have resided for some time at Bruges, as John Ludovicus Vivès, writing from that city on 8 July 1524 to Bishop Longland, the king's confessor, says: ‘Richard Pate, your sister's son, and Antony Barcher, your dependant, are wonderfully studious’ (Brewer, Letters and Papers of Henry VIII, vol. iv. pt. i. p. 203). In 1526 he was made archdeacon of Worcester. On 11 March 1526–7 he had the stall of Sanctæ Crucis, alias Spaldwick, in the church of Lincoln, and on 22 June 1528 the stall of Sutton cum Buckingham in the same church. On this latter date he was also made archdeacon of Lincoln upon the death of William Smith, doctor of decrees. . . .

He served Henry VIII as Ambassador to the Court of the Holy Roman Emperor, Charles V, and heard Katherine of Aragon's nephew express his complaints about "the course adopted by the king of England, and energetically defended his own action on behalf of his aunt, Catherine of Arragon (sic). Subsequently he accompanied the emperor to the Low Countries."

Peter Marshall, in Religious Identities in Henry VIII's England, according to Wikipedia notes that Pate in 1537 [perhaps influenced the Emperor?] ". . . was removed from that position, after he had advocated for the legitimate status of Princess Mary; but he was reinstated in 1540.[2]" He also notes that that Pate was thought lukewarm toward the king's marital matters, and was recalled to England soon after that reinstatement (p. 235). But he stayed on the Continent and went to Rome, where he was named the Bishop of Worcester as noted above. On page 238 of the same volume, Marshall notes that Pate and his chaplain, Seth Holland, were attainted as traitors by Parliament in 1542.

As Pope Paul III's Bishop of Worcester, Richard Pate attended the Council of Trent. When Reginald Cardinal Pole left the first session of the Council of Trent because of illness, Pate remained as one of the spirituali of Pole's community, and he argued for a more Lutheran doctrine of Justification. (Chapter 9. The 'spirituali' at Trent)

Fenlon states on page 149 that on 9 July 1546 Pate argued "'faith alone' was the instrument of justification, while seeming to imply as well, that good works performed after justification were not meritorious, although they remained necessary as being in accordance with the will of God." Later that month, on 20 July, Pate supported the statement that "justice increased to the extent faith increased; good works were the fruit of justification, and a sign to man that his salvation was assured." (pp. 149-150) Fenlon also comments that Pate was "significantly more opposed to the doctrine [on Justification] was about to define . . . [than] any other prelate present at Trent" (p. 150), and after a detailed survey of Pate's educational, clerical, and diplomatic career (pp. 149 to 160) concludes that Pate "was convinced of Luther's orthodoxy on the fundamental question of salvation". (p. 150).

How Pole and Pate will respond to the Doctrine of Justification as defined by the Council of Trent, I have yet to find out. This is a post in medias res. The next chapter is 10. Pole's Protest!

The Dictionary of National Biography continues his life story:

Pate attended the council of Trent as bishop of Worcester, his first appearance there being in the session which opened on 21 April 1547. He was also present at the sittings of the council in September 1549 and in 1551. He remained in banishment during the reign of Edward VI. In 1542 he had been attainted of high treason, whereupon his archdeaconry was bestowed on George Heneage, and his prebend of Eastharptre in the church of Wells on Dr. John Heryng.

On the accession of Queen Mary he returned to this country. His attainder was reversed, and on 5 March 1554–5 he obtained possession of the temporalities of the see of Worcester (Rymer, Fœdera, xv. 415). . . .

Historian Jack Scarisbrick describes how Pate finally took up the see of Worcester in this 2019 Catholic Herald article:

. . . Worcester was very complicated. For a while in 1554 there were four people with the title of bishop: the long-since-resigned Hugh Latimer; his successor Thomas Heath, future archbishop of York, who was deprived of his see in 1551 by the Protestant regime and replaced by one Thomas Hooper (who was eventually burnt, along with Latimer and Cranmer).

Heath was restored to Worcester by Mary – only to be soon translated to York, thus making way for Pate – and enabling the latter at last to take up residence in the see of which he had been pastor in absentia for 13 years.

The Dictionary of National Biography entry concludes:

Queen Elizabeth deprived him of the temporalities in June 1559, and cast him into prison. He was in the Tower of London on 12 Feb. 1561–2, when he made his will, which has been printed by Brady. On regaining his liberty he withdrew to Louvain, where he died on 5 Oct. 1565. Mass is still said for him every year at the English College, Rome, on the anniversary of his death. 

One of the figures in Holbein's celebrated picture of ‘The Ambassadors,’ now in the National Gallery, is believed to represent Pate (Times, 8 Dec. 1891).

I wonder if that annual Mass is still celebrated at the VEC in Rome? 

The identity of the figures in Holbein's The Ambassadors I think is settled now (and one of them is not Pate!) according to The National Gallery in London.

Reginald Pole and Last Session of the Council of Trent

Found when looking for something else*: a presentation on Reginald Cardinal Pole's works published for the Council of Trent by the Aldine Press in 1562: De Concilio liber and Reformatio Angliae. 

Reginald Cardinal Pole, the last Catholic Archbishop of Canterbury, was dead of course (+11/27/1558) when Pope Pius IV convened the last session of Council of Trent. Pole had died under the cloud of suspicion of heresy during the reign of Pope Paul IV, who had stripped him of his title as Papal Legate. Mary I showed some of her father's spirit in responding to Papal authority and had not permitted Pole to leave England for Rome to face those charges. Others in Pole's circle, like Giovanni Cardinal Morone, suffered imprisonment and interrogation by the Roman Inquisition. According to the Catholic Encyclopedia, he was vindicated after his arrest, imprisonment, and investigation:

[He] was arrested by the pontiff's order, confined in the Castle of Saint Angelo (31 May, 1557), and made the object of a formal prosecution for heresy, in which his views on justification, the invocation of saints, the veneration of relics and other matters were incriminated and submitted to rigid inquiry.

The cardinal strenuously repudiated these charges, but he was kept in confinement until the death of Paul IV. In 1560 his successor Pius IV authorized a revision of the process against Morone, and as a result the imprisonment of the cardinal and the whole procedure against him were declared to be entirely without justification; the judgment also recorded in the most formal terms that not the least suspicion rested upon his orthodoxy.

As H. George Fletcher comments in his presentation, publication of Pole's Book of the Council, written for the first session of the Council of Trent in 1542, 20 years earlier, and the records of Legatine Council he had held in England to begin the re-establishment and the reforms of the Catholic Church, was meant to offer a "posthumous vindication" of Pole's life and work for the Church.

In both Eamon Duffy's presentation on Cardinal Pole and H. George Fletcher's, Pope Paul IV does not come off well. Even the Catholic Encyclopedia calls his pontificate a great disappointment. 

Fletcher's presentation, made at the Grolier Club in 2015, offers some narrative on Pole's life and and works, but is mostly concerned with his acquisition of one of the books published by the Aldine Press in 1562 and whether it could be a copy sent to the last session of the Council of Trent and used by a peritus assisting one of the delegates there.

*Oh, what was I looking for? Some more information about this image.

Seven Year Anniversary of Summorum Pontificum

Father Alexander Lucie-Smith writes about the seventh anniversary of Pope Benedict XVI's motu proprio Summorum Pontificum, in The Catholic Herald:

My father was a huge admirer of the Latin Mass of his youth: he used to say that its great advantage was that wherever you went in the world, the Mass was the same, in Latin, in the universal language, and thus accessible to all. That is a point of view I have not heard expressed for many a year. But there is something in it. The EF, I discovered as I learned it, is very formal: every gesture and every word has its place, and there is no room for variation, which is a good thing. Every Mass, in theory, is exactly like every other Mass. Why is this good? It is good because it reminds us that the Church is Catholic, universal. Of course we all have our particularities, but we need to remember that the universal aspect ought to take precedence. Why? Because the revelation of Jesus Christ is something that makes sense across space and time. It is valid for all times and places. Therefore it seems to me that the Mass ought to be celebrated in a way that emphasises the unicity of revelation and the unity of the human family. We should not be celebrating diversity, but identity; not celebrating difference, but the common heritage we all share.

I think this is one thing that has changed in the last seven years, and this is one of the looked for fruits of Summorum Pontificum: the EF has ‘reminded’ the OF of the ‘catholicity’ of the Church.

If the horizontal aspect is important, so is the vertical. The EF is clearly old, indeed very old. Codified at Trent, it is much older than Trent, going back to the time of Gregory the Great; in his time it was already old. Moreover, the OF is not ‘new’, in the sense that it is clearly in continuity with the ‘old’ Mass; the ‘new’ Mass is not ex nihilo. So, whether you celebrate one Mass or the other, or both from time to time, you are standing in a millennial tradition, going right back to the time before Pope Gregory. The ancient nature of the Church’s tradition is not something you heard much about when I was growing up, when all the talk was of the importance of ‘relevance’. So it is good that we should feel the worth and weight of tradition, and antiquity. These are useful counter-cultural correctives in this culture of ours, a culture which will one day be in the dustbin of history while the Mass, ever old, ever new, will continue.

So this is the main thing that we owe to Benedict’s motu proprio: it has put us more in touch with our history and with our universality.

As you may know from reading this blog, my husband and I have grown devoted to the Extraordinary Form of the Latin Liturgy of the Roman Rite, attending Sunday Mass at St. Anthony of Padua (my husband took the picture above on Palm Sunday this year) here in Wichita and seeking it out when we travel--especially at St. Eugene-Ste. Cecile in Paris. I echo Father Lucie-Smith's statement about being in touch with "our history", our Catholic past. To me, the historical connection has been to the English Catholic martyrs, since the missionary priests who had studied on the Continent came back to England, celebrating the Mass according to the Missal of Pope St. Pius V. They knew the glories of the rite in Rome, Paris, and throughout Europe--in their native land they celebrated Low Mass secretly, furtively, and faithfully. It's the form of Latin Liturgy of the Roman Rite that Blessed John Henry Newman learned to celebrate when he studied for the Catholic priesthood in Rome and then celebrated at the Oratory.

We are very thankful to Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI, to our local Ordinary, Bishop Carl Kemme, and the priests of our diocese who offer the Mass in the Extraordinary Form at St. Anthony and throughout the diocese--and to the master of ceremonies and the servers he's trained and the choir director and the choir members he directs to sing the parts of the Mass and the beautiful hymns.

Back to Trent with John W. O'Malley, SJ

The  Second Vatican Council has been much in the news, Catholic and mainstream, occasioned by the canonization of the pope who called the Council and the pope who really implemented the Council (John XXIII and John Paul II). When George Weigel wrote on First Things about the canonization of those popes, he commented on the difficulties of implementing the Second Vatican Council;

As everyone who lived through the post-Vatican II years knows, John XXIII’s Council created a lot of turbulence of its own. One reason why, I’m convinced, is that Vatican II, unlike previous ecumenical councils, did not provide authoritative keys to its own proper interpretation. It defined no dogma. It condemned no heresy or heretic(s). It legislated no new canons for the Church’s law, it wrote no creed, it commissioned no catechism. These were the ways previous councils had told the Church, “This is what we mean.” Vatican II did none of that.

The Council of Trent did all all that. From that "Counter-Reformation" Council a new catechism, new statements for reform, decrees on the Sacraments, the crucial doctrine of Justification, etc, gave direction to the Catholic Church for centuries--well, until the Second Vatican Council! In fact, if you compare and contrast the two councils, the usual commentary is that Trent was doctrinal and Vatican II was pastoral. 

John W. O'Malley might disagree about that comment re: Trent: it was both doctrinal and pastoral as it was called both to combat the errors of Luther (and later Calvin) and to reform the Church of abuses and scandals, particularly to improve the care of souls. Thus the three sessions of the Council of Trent focused on both the definition of those doctrines most threatened by Lutherans ideas and the reform of the Church, especially the actions of bishops and parish priests. 

As Harvard University Press describes this 2013 book:

The Council of Trent (1545–1563), the Catholic Church’s attempt to put its house in order in response to the Protestant Reformation, has long been praised and blamed for things it never did. Now, in this first full one-volume history in modern times, John W. O’Malley brings to life the volatile issues that pushed several Holy Roman emperors, kings and queens of France, and five popes—and all of Europe with them—repeatedly to the brink of disaster.

During the council’s eighteen years, war and threat of war among the key players, as well as the Ottoman Turks’ onslaught against Christendom, turned the council into a perilous enterprise. Its leaders declined to make a pronouncement on war against infidels, but Trent’s most glaring and ironic silence was on the authority of the papacy itself. The popes, who reigned as Italian monarchs while serving as pastors, did everything in their power to keep papal reform out of the council’s hands—and their power was considerable. O’Malley shows how the council pursued its contentious parallel agenda of reforming the Church while simultaneously asserting Catholic doctrine.

Like What Happened at Vatican II, O’Malley’s Trent: What Happened at the Council strips mythology from historical truth while providing a clear, concise, and fascinating account of a pivotal episode in Church history. In celebration of the 450th anniversary of the council’s closing, it sets the record straight about the much misunderstood failures and achievements of this critical moment in European history.

O'Malley masterfully narrates the struggle to convene the Council, blocked by papal concerns about conciliarism and the efforts of Francis I of France to thwart the Holy Roman Emperor, Charles V, who urgently wanted the Church to launch a council for the sake of unity throughout his Empire. Francis I, Henry VIII, and the Schmalkaldic League of Lutheran princes wanted the Holy Roman Empire to be weakened from within by religious disunity. Throughout the following chapters that cover the three sessions of Trent, O'Malley keeps the narrative of events and his analysis of the decisions reached/documents issued in balance, providing details about personalities, the different factions, and the results of the theologians's discussions and the bishops' decisions.

I have not read his book about the Second Vatican Council--perhaps I'll look it up too. I checked this book out from the Wichita Public Library. I've read and reviewed his Trent and All That, and I read his Four Cultures of the West (might need to re-read it soon).