The Rise and Fall of Thomas Cromwell

by John Schofield

  It is difficult to know what to make of this evidence, especially as Cromwell’s letters to Vaughan and to Ghogreve are, unfortunately, both missing. The best guess is that Cromwell had managed to persuade Henry to make some effort to get used to, and maybe even to like, his new wife.

  So not for the first time in his career, Cromwell had recovered well from a major setback. He was also bringing the Great Bible project to completion. The number of printed copies stood at 3,000, and a further 3,000 were scheduled for March or April. With these, and the Bibles recovered from France, Cromwell would soon have enough, or nearly enough, to fulfil his cherished ambition of providing every parish in England with a Bible translated directly from the original Hebrew and Greek. However, this project did not proceed unopposed. The evangelical William Turner would later say that the Bible had been brought into England’s churches ‘in the spite of your teeth’, by which he meant the bishops. Foxe agrees, and unless these men were being slanderously polemical, then Cromwell’s opponents must have been unusually hostile to his Bible mission, even though Henry had been cautiously favourable to the principle of a vernacular Bible for some years. What may have particularly rankled with bishops of the old faith was the prospect of the Scriptures translated by Lutheran men like Rogers and Coverdale, acting under Cromwell’s direction and leadership. But Cromwell’s victory over the Bible was not a decisive one, because invariably in theological disputes it is not the Scriptures themselves that are contentious, but the interpretation of them, especially on key doctrines like justification. This calls for a brief review before going further.8

  Justification by faith alone, not through good works or human merits, formed the core of Luther’s Gospel and the Reformation. Casual observers may have imagined that Henry had reconciled himself with Luther on this point because at the recent Cleves wedding Henry confidently assured his German guests that ‘we are agreed on justification and the essential points’. In that case, he argued, agreement should also be possible on private masses and clerical celibacy if the theological dialogue could be restarted. Yet Henry’s own personal notes on justification in the Bishops’ Book, penned in his own hand, were completely at odds with Luther. Henry, in short, was in a muddle. Obsessed with private masses and keeping his priests celibate, the Defender of the Faith had not fully thought through the most fundamental subject at stake in the Reformation.9

  What had most likely confused him was the slightly intricate relationship between faith and good works. In his Loci Communes dedicated to Henry in 1535, Melanchthon had said that good works were ‘necessary to salvation’, by which he meant a necessary consequence, not a cause or contribution. Luther accepted this, and so did Cromwell. Cromwell’s Ten Articles declared that justification was attained by ‘contrition and faith joined with charity’; but then, a little further on, only ‘through the Father’s grace and mercy, and for Christ’s sake’. This adroitly worded passage left open the key question – exactly how was charity joined to faith? Does charity come before, with or after faith? Is charity an essential prerequisite to justification, or an inevitable result of it, a virtue flowing naturally from it? Cromwell’s studied vagueness allowed evangelicals to understand the article in a Lutheran way, and others in a medieval way if they wanted to. The Thirteen Articles in summer 1538 were similarly phrased. The passing of the Six Articles the following year had done nothing to alter this, because justification was not a point that Henry chose to dispute with the Germans. So all through the controversy about clerical celibacy, private masses and communion in one kind or two, Protestant men backed by Cromwell were preaching justification in very Lutheran fashion, with virtual impunity. Cromwell had also inspired Richard Taverner to translate Melanchthon’s Apology in 1536, and yet more Lutheran works during 1538–40. As another has already noted, these translations were doubtless timed to coincide with the Bible project, so that key texts might be understood evangelically. All this was going on, under Cromwell’s direction, and with Henry’s apparent consent.10

  Watching these Lutheran advances with smouldering fury was Cromwell’s chief adversary, Stephen Gardiner, bishop of Winchester. Since his return from France eighteen months ago, tensions had arisen between these two men over the activities of reformist preachers in Gardiner’s diocese. Now Gardiner had fixed his eye on Robert Barnes, one of Cromwell’s closest allies and the foremost Lutheran preacher in the country now that Latimer was detained following his resignation after the Six Articles. Barnes, an old enemy of Gardiner’s, was especially lively in proclaiming justification by faith when the Bible was rolling off the printing presses and into the parishes.11

  In Lent 1540 a series of preachers were commissioned to speak at Paul’s Cross. Among them were Barnes and two close friends, Thomas Garrett and William Jerome, the vicar of Stepney, where Cromwell lived. On the first Friday of Lent, however, Gardiner preached before the king. No record of that sermon has survived, but it seems to have made a most favourable impression. Two days later on Sunday, Gardiner also preached at Paul’s Cross, even though he was not on the original list of speakers. Preaching arrangements were altered at the last moment, possibly with the help of Richard Sampson, the dean of St Paul’s and an ally of Gardiner’s.

  Gardiner began with the temptations of Christ, and he gave the Gospel texts (Matthew 4:5–7; Luke 4:9–12) a novel twist. The devil, thundered the bishop, is still tempting us, through this ‘new teaching’. He tempts us away from fasting, praying and confession; he tempts us to live ‘idle and void of good works’. Taking a tactical middle ground between Rome and Luther, cleverly calculated to appeal to Henry, Gardiner recalled how the devil used to tempt with ‘pardons from Rome’ and with friars as his ‘ministers’. But now the friars have gone, so ‘the devil was playing a new tune’. Now the devil tells us that gaining eternal life ‘needs no works at all, but only belief, only, only, nothing else’.

  What sounds like a caricature of justification by faith alone was really a challenge to some evangelical contestant to enter the fray under the Lutheran banner. Robert Barnes could not resist it. When his turn came to preach on 29 February, he hit back lustily. He picked his texts from Romans and Hebrews: ‘whatever is not of faith is sin’, and ‘without faith it is impossible to please God’ (Romans 14:23; Hebrews 11:6). Warming to his theme, Barnes stoutly proclaimed justification as Luther had done: man’s salvation depends solely on divine grace and faith in Christ; good works were really fruits of true faith, and though necessary for godly Christian living, they play no part in justification; Christ alone, as Saviour and Mediator, can make us righteous in the sight of God. Then, unaware that Henry had recently listened appreciatively to a sermon by Gardiner, Barnes delivered a few ripe personal insults at the bishop. According to one report, Barnes stepped down from the pulpit to thunderous approval and applause. In quick succession, Garrett and Jerome preached in similar vein.12

  However, when Henry heard of the sparring at St Paul’s he was livid. He summoned Barnes and Gardiner to his presence and commanded each man to give an account of himself. Immediately Henry took Gardiner’s side. With little more ado, he ordered Barnes, Garrett and Jerome to recant in public. This they did at the end of March. To many in the audience, however, these recantations sounded half-hearted and insincere, an impression quickly confirmed when the trio reverted to preaching justification by faith alone just as before. Henry was furious to hear that his orders had been treated so frivolously, and within days the three Lutherans were arrested and locked up in the Tower. If their behaviour seems breathtakingly indiscreet, it only shows how freely and confidently Protestant men in Cromwell’s service had been proclaiming their message until now. But times had changed. Over two years ago in the Bishops’ Book, Cranmer had tried his best to explain this faith-works issue to Henry; but for some reason Cranmer’s comments had little effect, and Henry carried on with his policy of dialogue with the Lutherans, never realizing that his own views were quite different from Luther’s. As a result, a theologi
cal time bomb had been lying around largely unnoticed until Gardiner spectacularly detonated it at Lent. Naturally, Gardiner knew in advance the effect it would have on Henry. As with private masses and clerical celibacy, the crisis proved that Henry remained a medievalist at heart, despite his personal animosity towards the pope. It also jolted Henry into seeing the Germans in a wholly new light. Believing that he had understood the Lutheran teaching, and found it worth negotiating over, he had, under Cromwell’s influence, begun and persevered with his Lutheran policy. In furtherance of that policy he had also, again at Cromwell’s suggestion, married Anne of Cleves. In fact he had all along completely misunderstood the Lutheran doctrine on justification. When eventually he managed to grasp it rightly, thanks to Gardiner’s good offices, he liked it no more than he liked his German wife.

  No record survives of Cromwell’s first meeting with Henry after these Lenten contests. Maybe the king’s countenance, like Laban’s to Jacob in olden times, was no longer ‘toward him as before’ (Genesis 31:2). Until now it had been a remarkable achievement of Cromwell’s to get Henry to agree to do so much of what Cromwell wanted. Though never a Lutheran, it was Henry who kept inviting Melanchthon and others from Germany to England to parley with him on theology; it was Henry who signed the Cleves marriage contract for the sake of a German alliance; and it was Henry who authorised the Bible in English, though without fully appreciating that Cromwell’s main purpose behind it was to draw the people more and more towards the new learning. Cromwell’s success, moreover, was not that he had merely persuaded the king to go along with this or that suggestion. Cromwell operated in such a way that left Henry convinced that he (Henry) was actually carrying out his own policy. This is the really clever part of it. It is the highest and most resourceful form of the art of psychological manipulation. Put more simply, it is the knack of getting the boss to do what you want, and do it willingly.

  But it can also be a risky strategy. What if the boss twigs? This is what happened at Lent – Henry finally twigged. The whole Lenten saga was, therefore, a consummately cunning stratagem of Gardiner’s – ‘wily Winchester’ as Foxe called him. No longer was Henry interested in delegations from Germany for talks on theology. With a single sermon Winchester had threatened to destroy all that Cromwell had achieved during the past seven years. The Protestant Reformation in England now faced a crisis far more serious than the Act of Six Articles. The whole Lutheran policy was in shreds, and three of the ablest Lutheran preachers in jail. Cromwell’s own fortunes had suddenly tumbled. For the first time since he became Principal Secretary, observers sensed he was in danger of falling. Cromwell and Cranmer ‘do not know where they are’, said Marillac, reporting the events to King Francis. Cromwell was ‘tottering’ (en branle de trébucher), and rumour had it that Tunstall would be made vicar-general, and the bishop of Bath appointed Lord Privy Seal. Cromwell might, but only if he was lucky, hang on to some administrative post.13

  Marillac reflected the general mood of excitement pervading London. He may, however, have slightly underestimated Cromwell’s ingenuity. Cromwell had certainly used his powers as Vicegerent to advance the Lutheran Gospel further than Henry, had he properly understood it, would have wished. But Cromwell had also covered his tracks carefully and skilfully. He had broken no law or royal proclamation. He had done nothing technically illegal. So he could not be arrested for any crime – not yet. Besides, he was just as shrewd an operator as ‘wily Winchester’.

  Cromwell’s response to the crisis was diplomatic. He invited Gardiner to dine with him. The two men then ‘opened their hearts’ to one another, with the result that ‘all displeasures are forgotten’ and ‘they be now perfect friends’ – this from one Sir John Wallop. The customary handshake before the heavyweight title bout might be more apt. The outward bonhomie and show of unity was laid on by Cromwell for Henry’s benefit, to let the king see that Cromwell and the bishop were at peace. Gardiner could not refuse the dinner invitation, because Henry might ask why he had spurned Cromwell’s hand of friendship. Gardiner would then risk losing the unpredictable king’s favour that he had recently so expertly gained. Each man divined the mind of the other; each was trying to guess what his opponent would do next.14

  Cromwell’s ploy paid off. On 12 April, the new session of parliament opened with speeches from Chancellor Audley and Cromwell. Cromwell stressed the king’s desire for unity in religion, regretting the ‘rashness and licentiousness of some, and the inveterate superstition and stiffness of others in the ancient corruptions’. In public, and chiefly for Henry’s consumption, Cromwell was now taking the so-called middle ground. The king, Cromwell continued, ‘leaned neither to the right hand nor to the left’, but sought only the ‘pure and sincere doctrine of the Christian faith’. To this end Henry had appointed one committee of bishops and divines to complete the Institution of a Christian Man, and another one to examine which religious ceremonies ought to be retained.15

  Still in April, Cromwell resigned as Principal Secretary, transferring his duties to two of his staff, Ralph Sadler and Thomas Wriothesley. The reasons for this governmental re-organisation are not stated in any surviving official paper, though Elton suggested that Sadler and Wriothesley each became joint Principal Secretary so that one could serve the king and the other Cromwell. It was not a demotion for Cromwell, however, because he retained his titles of Lord Privy Seal and Vicegerent, as well as his place on the Council. More honours quickly followed. On 18 April Henry made Cromwell earl of Essex, succeeding Henry Bourchier, who had recently died without a male heir. Cromwell was also appointed Lord Great Chamberlain, a prestigious hereditary office of the de Vere Earls of Oxford, whose family had Howard connections. At the ceremony, Henry personally presented Cromwell with the staff of the office. His full title now ran as Thomas Cromwell, earl of Essex, Vicegerent and High Chamberlain of England, Lord Privy Seal, Chancellor of the Exchequer, and (for good measure), Justice of the Forests beyond the Trent. From the near disaster of Lent, Cromwell now found himself in the most exalted ranks of the nobility; and he was ‘as much favour with his master as he ever was, from which he was near being shaken by the bishop of Winchester and others’, reported a surprised Marillac.16

  This turnaround in fortunes can be partly explained by Cromwell’s natural genius for survival, his show of unity with Gardiner and his cleverly tactful address to parliament, all of which had impressed Henry and deflected immediate danger. Besides this, however, there must have been something which the surviving evidence and official papers do not reveal, maybe a personal meeting between the king and his minister at which assurances were given and soothing words spoken. This can only be a suggestion, but it may also be the case that Henry took this opportunity to warn Gardiner that although he had rendered his king good services at Lent, he should not try and overreach himself. Henry valued Cromwell highly, but although he was closer to Gardiner on religious matters he never had any real warmth for the bishop, especially since Gardiner had been slow to accept the Royal Supremacy. Henry’s trust in Cromwell may have been shaken, but not destroyed. The king was willing to keep his minister alongside him, at least for the time being. It is also worth noting that this ennoblement was more ceremonial than practical, and it did not grant Cromwell any additional power or authority. So its significance in the story of his last months need not be exaggerated.

  The good citizens of Tudor England, meanwhile, as if oblivious to the intrigues at court, continued to petition Cromwell on personal affairs, and what a blessed relief humdrum routine tasks can be at times of danger and heightened tension. John, earl of Bath, wrote to him on 3 May. Bath’s father had just died, leaving him with ‘weighty charges without allowance by will or otherwise’. His mother-in-law, who had always been spiteful towards him, had persuaded his father ‘no part of his goodness to bequeath me’ when he made his will. Bath appealed to Cromwell for help, for ‘other refuge than your good lordship I have none’. The aggrieved earl added that he was troubled by a chest
y cough. The outcome is not known.17

  To return to weightier matters, the parliamentary committee set up to deal with the Institution had an emphatic Catholic majority. Only three out of twenty – Cranmer, Cox and Barlow – were evangelicals. Cromwell did not sit on the committees himself, though regular reports were sent to him. He also had secular affairs to attend to. About the only one of real interest here is the subsidy. Not for the first time, Cromwell had to persuade the Commons that Henry needed money. As he habitually did on such occasions, Cromwell appealed to the loyalty of the Commons and their love of their king. Under Henry’s blessed reign, England enjoyed peace, safety and prosperity, and, most important of all, deliverance from the power of Rome, idolatry and superstition. Grateful subjects, therefore, would surely not refuse this request. Necessary royal expenses included putting down the Pilgrimage of Grace rebellion, the defence fortifications of 1539 when danger threatened from abroad, the cost of councils in the North and West, repairing Westminster Hall, and maintaining the army in Ireland.18

  The outcome was a most satisfying one for both Cromwell and Henry. The only dissenting voice was Tunstall’s, who unwisely murmured against imposing the tax on the clergy, though he dropped his objection when it was pointed out to him that the clergy had contributed to previous taxes. The subsidy bill was quickly accepted by both Commons and the Lords. It was the largest tax of the century, and a grateful Henry made a point of thanking parliament. Marillac, too, was impressed. On 8 May he told King Francis that Henry might receive most of the money he wanted, but a fortnight later he reported that he had got all of it ‘without contradiction’. Other secular business also went well, leaving religious matters the only outstanding problem, with the bishops in their customary state of almost complete disagreement on doctrine.19