The Rise and Fall of Thomas Cromwell

by John Schofield

  Catherine’s humiliation during this distressing time was cruelly aggravated by only lukewarm support from Rome. The French were convinced that the pope, but for fear of the emperor, would by now have recognized Henry’s new marriage. In near despair Catherine wondered whose fault was the greater, Henry’s or the papacy’s, which ‘applies no remedy to the evil the devil is doing’ in England. At home men of the old faith, who might have been expected to show some sympathy, were acting as heartlessly as Anne’s party. Chapuys was particularly disappointed with Norfolk over his aggressive behaviour towards Mary; he had taken away her ornaments, saying that she was no princess, and that her pride had to be humbled.11

  Cromwell, meanwhile, kept up expressions of goodwill. During the spring of 1534 he was concerned to hear rumours that Charles might be preparing for war against England, so he probed Chapuys for news. Again Cromwell assured the ambassador of his personal desire to see relations between Henry and Charles improved. This time Chapuys gave little away. He was too worried about the safety of Mary. On Henry’s orders she was now confined, allegedly to appease Anne. Chapuys feared that Mary’s execution might be imminent; he had heard Henry speak threateningly of it. Chapuys was convinced that ‘some treachery’ would befall Mary unless Charles took ‘some preventative measure very soon’. He urged the emperor, the time was ripe for ‘an undertaking’, and the people deeply resented the cruel treatment of Catherine and Mary. Chapuys suggested trade sanctions against England. Maybe ‘some commotion might be created’ in Ireland if the pope sent an emissary there and publicly censured Henry, because ‘all Irish … are subjects of the Holy Apostolic See’.12

  In May Henry sent yet another delegation to Catherine to compel her to submit. Harsh and threatening words were used, including thinly veiled threats of the axe. Chapuys protested again, this time directly to the king. ‘Nobody doubts here’, he told Charles, ‘that one of these days some treacherous act will befall the Queen’, for Anne ‘will never rest until he [Henry] has put her out of the way’. Chapuys had long since suspected that dangerous mischief was afoot. He recalled Northumberland, Anne’s former fiancée, saying that he knew ‘for certain’ that Anne was thinking of poisoning Mary. Chapuys was convinced of the truth of this because of Northumberland’s ‘intimacy and credit’ with Anne. Chapuys was also trying his best to persuade the Scots not to make any treaty with Henry until Mary’s succession was secured.13

  Despite the danger to her and her daughter, Catherine refused to submit. To the consternation of Henry and the council, she insisted on oath that her marriage to Prince Arthur was never consummated, thus emphatically contradicting the government’s line. Yet it is against this unlikely background that one of the strangest letters of the English Reformation is to be found. It is from Catherine, dated probably 1 September, to an unnamed recipient, but calendared in the Letters and Papers as having been sent to Cromwell. My ‘special friend’ (especial amigo), it began. ‘You have greatly bound me with the pains you have taken’ in speaking to the king, ‘on my behalf’, regarding Mary. ‘The reward you shall trust to have of God. For as you know, in me there is no power to gratify what you have done, but only with my good will’. What had happened is clear from the contents of the letter. Cromwell had interceded with Henry, who had made a partial concession by agreeing to let Mary be nearer Catherine, though not actually by her side. Catherine was grateful for small mercies, but she longed to see her daughter again. She appealed to Cromwell, for the sake of a mother’s love, to ‘do what you may, that this may be yet done’. Having heard that Henry was suspicious of her motives, she assured Cromwell that ‘I am determined to die (without doubt) in this realm’. She begged Cromwell to continue to help her as a ‘trusty friend, to whom I pray God give health’.14

  Despite the anonymity, there are sound reasons to see why the editor of the Letters and Papers believed that Cromwell was the receiver. It fits the evidence seen already, and more of the same is still to come, that he had become her unexpected helper. The missing addressee’s name has a fairly obvious explanation in the circumstances: she wanted to express her thanks and ask for more, but not get him into trouble in case the letter fell into the wrong hands. Moreover, the letter is written in her native Spanish, a language Cromwell knew. How many others in Henry’s government knew Spanish is impossible to say; probably not many. Chapuys, a possible alternative recipient, normally wrote and spoke in French or Latin, and Catherine could have written to him in either of these. But in that case, there would be no need for the secrecy. There is also evidence from Dr Butts, Henry’s physician, that Cromwell had approached Henry about Mary; Cromwell first persuaded Henry to let Butts attend on Mary, then Butts and Cromwell between them managed to arrange for Catherine’s own physician to see Mary.15

  Cromwell had timed his intercession well, for it was also in September that Henry’s roving eye had alighted on an attractive young woman. Chapuys, who reported this development, does not name the lady, but the name of Jane Seymour does not appear in letters and documents just yet. When Anne furiously tried to drive this rival from the court, Henry gruffly reminded her that she should be grateful for what he had done for her, adding ominously that ‘were he to commence again, he would certainly not do as much’. Chapuys was trying hard to suppress his hopes that Anne’s hour had come. He knew both Henry’s changeable nature and Anne’s cleverness – for she ‘knows well how to handle him’ (que le sçat (or sait) bien manier). French diplomats also noted that Henry’s ardour for Anne had cooled, and that he now had ‘other loves’ (des nouvelles amours). But again, no names were mentioned in despatches. Ambassador D’Interville, however, gave a grim report of a country now gripped by fear of war and a trade embargo, with the nation’s hostility to Anne as universal as its love for Catherine and Mary. Abroad a dangerous alliance threatened. Charles was now thinking of making overtures to his great rival, King Francis of France, and forging a Franco-Imperial front against England. One of Charles’s ideas was to seek French support for a marriage between Mary and the Dauphine. This did not come to anything, and neither is it clear how seriously Henry was taken to his ‘other loves’. There is no real evidence of a strong attachment to Jane Seymour yet.16

  In October, Chapuys received fresh intelligence from his contacts at court that Anne was harassing Mary. Again he went to Cromwell to seek help. Cromwell made soothing noises, confiding that Henry secretly dearly loved Mary ‘100 times more than his last born’. Cromwell assured Chapuys that ‘in time everything would be set to rights’. Chapuys took this as a hint ‘that there was some appearance of the king changing his love’. Chapuys was unsure whether Cromwell was serious, or just saying this to humour him, but before he could ask any more Cromwell cleverly changed the subject. Cromwell had intelligence from France, Spain, Scotland and Ireland that Charles had sent agents to these countries to ‘foster rebellion and troubles’ against Henry, particularly in Ireland. Cromwell was sure that such reports could not be true – the French must be stirring up trouble between England and Charles again – and Cromwell was certain that Chapuys would be able to categorically deny it all. Now it was Chapuys’s turn to go on the defensive. Rather lamely he suggested another meeting to discuss these matters. He then managed dexterously to turn the conversation back to Catherine once more. Why, he demanded, had Henry taken away Catherine’s jewels and given them to Anne? Cromwell (says Chapuys) was compelled to agree that the ambassador was in the right. However, Chapuys was satisfied with Cromwell’s assurances of goodwill towards Catherine and Mary. He acknowledged that Henry had recently given an order, following Cromwell’s intercession, that Mary should be well treated.17

  In spring the following year (1535), Cromwell introduced a new and disquieting theme in his meetings with Chapuys. He reminded the ambassador that Catherine was ‘old and would not live long, while the princess was in bad health, and her early death very probable’. Cromwell then explained how eager Henry was for unity among the princes of Christendom, notably hi
mself, Charles and Francis. If a General Council could achieve concord, there would be a common defence against the Turk. Maybe a renewed offensive in the Holy Land could be considered, resulting in more dominions and wealth for Europe’s princes. Cromwell warned Chapuys to abandon ideas that Henry would name Mary as his successor. He also suggested that the affairs of Catherine and Mary should be kept ‘in the background’, and not be allowed to sour Anglo-Imperial relations. Both women were mortal, added Cromwell, so ‘what harm or danger could there be in the princess dying just now? Would the emperor have reason to regret her death?’ Taken aback, Chapuys worried about the consequences if Mary died ‘suddenly, in these times, and in a manner open to suspicion’. Neither was he happy about putting the issue of Catherine and Mary in the background. Cromwell did not press the point, but Chapuys was sufficiently concerned to suggest to the emperor a plan for helping Mary to escape. Charles agreed, though everything would have to be done ‘with the utmost secrecy, and great discretion’. Soon after this, Cromwell met Chapuys again. Cromwell said that Mary was ‘an obstacle to all negotiations, and that he wished to God …’. And here Cromwell left the sentence unfinished. Chapuys was alarmed, lest Catherine and Mary ‘be despatched secretly, if not in public’. He had no doubt where the blame lay – it was Anne, ‘helping with all her power towards that end’. She was now ‘fiercer and haughtier than ever’. Catherine, too, had heard frightful rumours hinting at the danger to Mary.18

  Cromwell’s motive in raising the startling prospect of the death of Catherine or Mary is perplexing. It is possible that he had heard something, and that he was preparing Chapuys for bad news. However, Cromwell’s words do not read like a hint or a coded message. It may be better to take them at face value without trying to decipher some clever, hidden meaning from them. Cromwell was a tough, hard-boiled character, who lived and moved in the pitilessly unsentimental world of international politics and statecraft, and his words contained a grim logic which Charles could hardly fail to see. An alliance with England would offer significant advantages for Charles in his rivalry with Francis, and also his attempts to repel the Turkish forces in the east. Should, therefore, Catherine’s divorce – now a fait accompli – and the matter of Mary’s succession, really be sufficient to entrench permanent enmity between the two monarchs? Besides, Tudor minds were more likely than modern ones to believe with St Paul that ‘to be with Christ is far better’ (Philippians 1:23), especially for someone like Catherine, overtaken by incurable misfortune. Was it really cruel to wish that God would take Catherine or Mary out of her misery and into eternal rest? Seen through Tudor eyes with a Tudor mindset, Cromwell was not being uncharitable, just brutally unsentimental.

  Chapuys must have taken Cromwell’s words in this spirit because, to Anne’s intense annoyance, the two men continued to hold regular meetings. During one of them, in mid-May, a remarkable conversation took place. Rather than look for the passing of Catherine as a blessing for all concerned, Chapuys suggested that Cromwell should consider the issue from the reverse angle. Let Henry dismiss Anne and restore Catherine, the ambassador urged. That would be a far more satisfying way of securing a lasting peace between England and Charles. Chapuys had been doing some homework, soliciting expert medical opinion. He was convinced that there ‘is every probability, as physicians and others tell me’, that Henry could still beget his male heir from Catherine rather than ‘that woman’, meaning Anne. Cromwell pointed out that Catherine was now nearly fifty (she was born in 1485). Chapuys had prepared himself well for this meeting, and he produced examples of women in England giving birth at the age of fifty-one. Now Cromwell knew he was beaten. Here he admitted that his own mother was fifty-two when he was born. Cromwell then spoke ‘many pleasant things’ of Catherine personally, but he criticized those who had arranged her marriage to Henry. Sensing his advantage, Chapuys insisted that the marriage, while it lasted, had contributed much to England’s welfare and security. A long conversation followed of which Chapuys gives no details; except that at the end, ‘after much contention and dispute, Cromwell owned openly to me that most of the above and other reasons I had alleged were just and indisputable’. Then Cromwell, like a loser graciously conceding defeat, confessed that ‘it is not in mine, nor in any man’s power to persuade the king, my master; he will hazard all rather than give in on such a point’.19

  Ambassador Chapuys now held the distinction of being one of the few people to have got the better of Thomas Cromwell in debate. Chapuys had uncovered a family secret, and skilfully forced his opponent onto the defensive. For once, Cromwell had dropped his diplomatic guard and made a very candid, personal admission, one that he would never have made to the king or anyone in the council.

  The despatch in which Chapuys described this conversation is dated 23 May 1535. In his next letter, barely a fortnight later (5 June), we read that Anne wanted Cromwell’s head off. Chapuys heard this from Cromwell, and he was not sure whether to believe it at first. He had good reason to be a little sceptical. Cromwell was second to none in the art of political gamesmanship, and pretending to be out of favour with the ‘concubine’ could be a useful ploy designed to win the good opinion of Chapuys and Charles in the hope of smoothing the troubled Anglo-Imperial relations. In view of all that had gone before, however, the likelihood must be that the story was true. The sharp-eyed Anne, jealous of her position as queen, but still terribly vulnerable without an heir, had sensed that Cromwell had a soft spot for Catherine, and that he was also building up a good relationship with Chapuys. For good measure, Chapuys added, Anne was also scheming to bring Norfolk into disgrace with the king, and she had recently had a blazing row with him as well. She ‘heaped more injuries on the duke than on a dog’, provoking the goaded peer to storm out of the Royal Chamber in a rage calling her a ‘great whore’ (grande putain). Cromwell’s reaction to the waspish queen was altogether more relaxed. He breezily assured Chapuys that ‘she can do me no harm’.20

  Some assessment of Cromwell’s relations with the two queens may now be called for. No councillor of state can afford to allow his heart to rule his head, so the first explanation for Cromwell’s attitude towards Catherine and Mary must be statecraft. On Henry’s Great Matter, Chapuys presents Cromwell as being markedly less dogmatic than others. His position was really quite simple. Henry was the king and Cromwell the servant, whose duty it was to do the king’s will. So far as Cromwell was concerned, Henry could marry whomsoever he liked – that was his affair. On theological issues like the validity or otherwise of the Aragon marriage according to the Levitical Law, Henry had theologians and bishops to advise him. If Henry was satisfied with that advice, then that, too, was the king’s matter, and Cromwell had no right to interfere. However, any wise councillor could see that the Boleyn marriage was a provocation to Charles that exposed England to the risk of trade sanctions and even war. To prevent, or at least minimize this danger, it made good diplomatic sense to treat Catherine and Mary with as much dignity as was possible in the circumstances. With Charles pressed between the need to contain the Turk in the east, and others urging a punitive invasion of England, considerate conduct towards his aunt and her daughter could make the difference between war and peace.

  Cromwell’s approach showed political astuteness as well. Through parliamentary legislation, especially via the Act of Appeals, he had done more than anyone apart from Henry to secure the Royal Supremacy; but he had also ensured that the real ire of the Aragon party, including Chapuys and Charles, was directed not at him but at the Boleyns. So Cromwell could now use his growing power to encourage evangelical progress in the country, and at the same time keep diplomatic channels open with the imperialists. Catherine could even call him her ‘friend’, and while Chapuys was not exactly a close friend of Cromwell’s, he was willing to speak with him and deal with him. Cromwell was also keeping his options open. The possibility that Henry might restore Catherine, though remote, could not be discounted entirely. In view of all of this, it is hardly surp
rising that Anne had no great affection for Cromwell.

  It would be tempting to leave it there, and to assume that Cromwell was motivated by cold political calculations only. But there is more to it than this. That Cromwell was loyal to the king in all things can hardly be doubted. That he had a high regard for Catherine personally, and was moved by her suffering, and her dignified demeanour in it, can not be doubted either. These two outlooks are not necessarily mutually exclusive. Cromwell found himself in one of life’s painful dilemmas, duty pulling him one way and sympathy another. As a councillor of state, duty had to prevail, though it could never extinguish sympathy entirely. Cromwell, therefore, did what he could to make life a little more tolerable for Catherine and Mary. His efforts may not have been astoundingly successful, but they were nevertheless enough to merit a personal letter from the emperor, warmly thanking him for the ‘good service which he has rendered’ to the former queen and her daughter.21

  Anne, meanwhile, continued her troubled and sonless reign. As others have noted before, an alluring mistress is not always successfully transformed into an ideal wife, especially when the wife had yet to bear her royal husband the heir to the throne that he desperately wanted. Leading councillors were now openly unafraid of Anne. In the face of her anger, Cromwell was sanguinely unruffled, while Norfolk did not scruple to call her a ‘great whore’ and get away with it. Her unpredictable husband had now met the Lady Jane Seymour, though it is not known whether any serious attachment had formed yet, or whether she was one of the ‘other loves’ that the French diplomat had noticed. The volatile nature of the Boleyn marriage, and of the couple themselves, is arrestingly clear from ambassadors’ letters. In the same month (June 1535) the Venetian ambassador reported that Henry was ‘tired of her’, while according to Chapuys the king ‘loves his concubine now more than he ever did’. Each account could be true in its own way; this was a disturbed marriage, with Henry blowing hot and cold towards his unhappy wife.22