This subsidy bill must count as one of Cromwell’s most impressive achievements in parliamentary management. England was not at war, the threat of invasion that hung over the country the previous year had receded, money was pouring into the coffers of the crown from surrenders and sales of the monasteries; and yet Cromwell wrung a huge tax from parliament with barely a squeak of protest. Raising money has never been popular, especially in peacetime, but what is especially interesting on this occasion is Cromwell’s reason for the new tax – it was primarily to keep England safe from Roman power, machinations and ‘superstitions’. His policy in parliament may have been part of a wider strategy, and this leads to affairs in Calais and a necessary digression.
Relations between Cromwell and Lord Lisle, the Calais deputy, had been decidedly prickly for at least three years. Cromwell had reproved Lisle, in summer 1537, for the ‘Papistical faction that is maintained’ in Calais. Henry had heard of it too, and he warned Lisle that he might ‘put others in the best of your rooms’ if the situation did not improve. Cromwell, while promising Lisle his personal friendship, noted that some on the Calais council ‘lean much to their superstitious old observations’ and should be ‘induced to bring their hearts inward to the conformity of the truth’. The following May Cromwell rebuked Lisle again, this time for not reporting information about sacramentaries in Calais. He demanded an investigation.20
Adam Damplip was an alleged sacramentary who had become involved in a tangle with Gregory Botolf, a chaplain to Lisle. Damplip was sent to England to be questioned before a commission, including Cranmer. However, the archbishop advised Cromwell that he could find nothing seriously wrong with the man. According to Cranmer, Damplip confessed Christ’s presence in the Eucharist, but denied transubstantiation – which would, if correct, make Damplip a good Lutheran. Cranmer thought Damplip spoke ‘but the truth’, and he called the prior who had complained against Damplip a ‘hindrance to the true Gospel and a teacher of superstition’ (in other words, a Papist).21
As if satisfied with Cranmer’s explanation, Cromwell may not have taken stories of sacramentary heresy in Calais too seriously. He was more concerned by a report that the deputy had refused to allow Bible-reading at mass and other services. When sacramentary allegations surfaced once again, Cromwell told Lisle he should use good sense and discretion; such charges should not be made lightly, so Lisle should make double sure that the evidence was valid. Lisle suspected that Cromwell was fobbing him off, and he clumsily threatened to write directly to Henry. But Cromwell easily outwitted Lisle. When a second set of complaints about Damplip reached London, Cromwell wrote to Lisle demanding to know why these charges, which seemed ’very pestilent’, were not put to Damplip before ‘when he was accused of the matter of transubstantiation’. In other words, it was all Lisle’s fault. Having neatly got himself and Cranmer off the hook, Cromwell put the facts before Henry. Again the king was angry with Lisle. What was the point, Henry wondered, of having a governing council under Lisle if such scandals were allowed to continue unchecked? To resolve the matter the government decided it would set up its own commission to investigate and report back.22
A commissioners’ report was produced on 5 April 1540, just after the Lenten crisis between Gardiner and Barnes. It confirmed the existence in Calais of heretics and sacramentaries. Adam Damplip, William Smith and Thomas Brook were among those named. Damplip’s conduct during his examination by Cranmer two years earlier now appears disingenuous. If he really was a sacramentary, as the government commission claimed, he must have put on a plausible Lutheran face when questioned by Cranmer, hoping that this way he could count on the support of Cranmer and Cromwell. Or maybe Damplip just panicked and backed down under pressure and momentary fear. Whatever the truth, this was an awkward little matter for both Cromwell and Cranmer, which a clever opponent could have exploited. The offenders, meanwhile, were kept in ward until arrangements were made to send them to England. Henry was determined to deal vigorously with the heresies; but when the Calais prisoners arrived in London on May Day, Cromwell sent for them, ordered their chains to be removed, spoke kindly to them, urged them to be patient, and promised them that although they would have to go to the fleet for a little while, they would soon be free to return home. Cromwell was brimming with confidence once more. If he felt this way for the Calais men, he must also have had high hopes that he could secure the freedom of Barnes and his allies before long.23
Besides, Cromwell was now sharpening his arrows for a strike against Lisle. While these enquiries about sacramentaries were going on, Cromwell received an intelligence report on Gregory Botolf, Lisle’s chaplain, and one of the original complainants against Damplip. Under the pretence of going to England in February, Botolf had set off for Rome via France to offer his services to the pope and Cardinal Pole. Botolf’s ultimate aim, however, was even more ambitious – he would betray Calais into the hands of the king’s two greatest enemies. He was back in Calais on 17 March, but unfortunately for him his conspiracy came to light thanks to a former comrade called Philpot, who, fearing he was under suspicion, panicked and confessed to the authorities. Investigations began quickly, and a report was sent to Henry and Cromwell.24
Lisle then paid an official visit to London, and he met Cromwell at the Garter Feast on 9 May. Ten days later the hapless deputy found himself directly implicated in the Botolf conspiracy: he was placed under arrest, accused of ‘secret intelligence with Cardinal Pole, and of certain practices to deliver the town of Calais to Pole’. At approximately the same time, though in a separate incident, Richard Farmer, one of London’s wealthiest merchants, was imprisoned for life because his chaplain, already in jail, was convicted of defending papal authority. Marillac understood that ‘another great personage’ would soon be taken, though he did not know the name or the cause. Although Henry thought Lisle may have erred through ignorance rather than malice, he was taking no chances. Henry was very sensitive to popish conspiracy theories, especially at Calais where the risk of invasion the previous year had been high. Like the rest of the country, Calais had been placed on a war footing.25
Meanwhile, Marillac learned that a book was about to be issued – presumably the revised Institution – which would grandiosely ‘determine all that is to be held in religion’. Its confessional line would be ‘not according to the doctrines of the Germans or of the pope, but of the ancient councils of the church, by which the king shall be known … as a searcher and lover of truth only’. A tract had belatedly been sent by Elector John Frederick from Germany in response to the Six Articles. It defended yet again the Lutheran view on communion in one kind, private masses, clerical celibacy and vows. However, Henry’s interest in the Germans had now all but gone. He was hoping that the Institution would be ready by Whitsunday (16 May), but because the bishops had failed to settle the religious disputes in time, Henry prorogued parliament until the 25th.26
Despite the uncertainty hanging over the Institution, however, and despite Henry’s present mood of indifference towards the Lutherans, Cromwell had staged an astonishing recovery since Gardiner’s attack at Lent. He had deflected the attention of king, parliament and the country from heretical Lutheran preaching at home to the dangers from abroad, especially Rome. A commanding performance in parliament had earned him the gratitude of his king. With the arrest of Lisle, Cromwell had turned a potential thorn in his flesh to his advantage. His friends – Barnes, Garrett and Jerome – were still in custody, but no heresy charges had been brought against them, and so long as Cromwell remained Vicegerent, nothing worse than detention looked likely to befall them. If the Reformation was not exactly thriving, the danger that Gardiner might destroy it had markedly receded. Alas for Cromwell, one quandary remained, irremediable and unsolvable.
On May Day, Henry and Queen Anne watched the jousting at Durham House. After this they feasted with the lords and ladies of the court. But outward appearances were deceptive, the marriage was a failure, and Cromwell found himself cast i
n the role of marriage councillor, repeatedly compelled to listen to a litany of moans about the queen. After Candelmass and before Shrovetide, Henry confessed to Cromwell that his heart ‘could never consent to meddle with her carnally’, even though he ‘used to lie with her nightly or every second night’. At Lent, Easter and at Whitsuntide, Cromwell heard the same depressing story. Henry feared he would never have more children, and he was convinced that Anne was not his ‘lawful wife’. He had done all he could to ‘move the consent of his heart’, but the heart failed to respond. Cromwell promised to ‘do my uttermost’, whatever that meant, but by now he had given up hope that Henry would ever find love and contentment with Anne. Henry also consulted his physician, Dr Butts, on a matter of some intimacy – surely he could not be impotent, he enquired anxiously, because since his wedding he had had wet dreams. The doctor’s reply is not recorded.27
There may be a fairly simple explanation for Henry’s failure to be aroused by Anne, though neither Cromwell nor Butts would have dared to suggest it. The king was now ‘much taken with another young lady’, visiting her frequently ‘by day and by night’, according to Richard Hilles, the London merchant, writing to the Zürich theologian and divine, Henry Bullinger. Gardiner, Hilles continued, has been ‘providing feastings and entertainments’ for the ageing though amorous Henry and his child sweetheart at his episcopal palace. The young lady was Catherine Howard, niece of the duke of Norfolk. She was nineteen years old, and Henry nearly fifty.28
Hilles does not, unfortunately, say when these entertainments first began, though by the end of May they had become common knowledge to ‘many citizens of London’. Henry first saw Catherine the previous August when Norfolk, eager to place some members of his family in the new queen’s household, brought her to court. However, as Norfolk’s biographer well notes, Norfolk could not have known then that Henry would dislike Anne when he met her; so Norfolk’s intention, at least at that stage, was not to use Catherine to tempt Henry away from his German bride and injure Cromwell in the process. Though it was later reported that Henry ‘cast a fantasy’ to Catherine at first sight, it was not a strong enough fantasy to quench his desire for Anne, nor did it prevent him from rushing down to Rochester to see her on New Year’s Day instead of waiting for the scheduled meeting at Greenwich. Apart from Hilles, the first real indication of anything seriously romantic is found in notes of Henry giving Catherine presents, including a set of quilts, in April and May 1540, which tallies with Hilles’s letter.29
What may have happened is this, though admittedly it is a best guess. Henry did indeed take a liking to Catherine when he first set eyes on her in August, but he tried to put it out of his mind because at that time he was genuinely looking forward to his marriage to Anne. But little passions are not easily tamed, and this one had ample chance to ripen after Henry’s loveless wedding. When, in January and February, Cromwell tried to persuade Henry to make the best of things, the king obliged for a while; but his heart was in it no longer. Memories of Catherine were proving irresistible. By May, Henry was well and truly smitten.
Catherine’s entrance on to the stage inevitably raises questions about Norfolk’s role in the power struggle at court, and many historians have assumed that Cromwell was overthrown by a Gardiner–Norfolk coalition. There is, however, little evidence that Norfolk had been an active co-worker with Gardiner during the bishop’s Lenten intrigues. In March Norfolk was more concerned about the government’s French policy and whether it might affect his gainful French pension, and he was asking Cromwell’s advice.30 It is also noticeable that Hilles named Gardiner, not Norfolk, as the host at those ‘feastings and entertainments’. Nevertheless, Norfolk had always been a potential if not an active rival of Cromwell’s, and he was an ambitious man with a ruthless streak. The glittering prospect of his niece being crowned queen of England, and a son born to the king with Norfolk blood in his veins, may have been the catalyst that induced the duke into an alliance with the bishop against Cromwell and Queen Anne. Maybe Norfolk recalled Henry’s first sight ‘fantasy’ for Catherine, and now saw the opportunity to exploit it following Henry’s unhappy marriage and Cromwell’s subsequent bruising during Lent.
For most late medieval monarchs, a fairly obvious solution to the predicament existed. Anne would remain as queen and Catherine would be the royal mistress. But with Henry this was unthinkable – as with Anne Boleyn and Jane Seymour, the mistress must be queen. So this latest royal love affair, a wonderful boon for ‘wily Winchester’, was a devastating, seemingly incurable blow for Cromwell just when he was recovering from the Lenten crisis. It would only be a matter of time now before Henry demanded another divorce, this time with potentially disastrous consequences for the Vicegerent. Anne’s removal would incur the odium of her brother and the German princes, and cut off any slender hopes that may have remained of an alliance with the Lutherans. With Catherine Howard on the throne, further advancement for Gardiner and Norfolk at the expense of the evangelical party looked certain. Four years ago Cromwell had not resisted the accession of Jane Seymour, another queen of the old faith, but the state of affairs in summer 1540 was radically altered. Now that Henry understood what justification by faith meant, the nightmarish vision loomed of an outright victory for the Catholic faction and utter defeat for the Protestant cause. Most galling for Cromwell, he was the man who would have to arrange the divorce, preside over the effective collapse of the Reformation, and live out his days as a lame-duck Vicegerent.
Faced with such mounting misfortune, a Roman of old would have fallen on his sword. Cromwell, too, now realized that his days on earth were probably numbered. He began to set his affairs in order and to provide for servants, friends and dependents. Twelve young musicians received £20 each, according to Foxe, who had spoken to witnesses still living. But Cromwell was not the kind of man to offer his head on a charger to bishops and dukes, and, like Samson of old, he resolved to go down fighting and bring his enemies down with him. At the end of May, acting on an intelligence report, he sent a certain John Legh to join Farmer and Lisle in the Tower, and for the same reason – suspected contacts with Pole. Legh had just arrived back from Italy. He admitted meeting Pole while he was there, but in vain he denied any wrongdoing.31
Cromwell then raised the stakes with the arrest of Bishop Sampson of Chichester and Dr Wilson, a chaplain to the king, again on suspicion of secret communications with Rome. Both men were close allies of Gardiner. The sight of a prominent bishop being marched off to the Tower left the others ‘in great trouble, some for fear of being found guilty of the same deed’, reported Marillac. A climate of mistrust was pervading London, and ‘every day new accusations are discovered’. According to an unnamed but ‘trustworthy personage’, Cromwell avowed that five other bishops ought to get the same treatment as Sampson. Marillac was not sure who these five were, though he suspected Cromwell’s most active antagonists which would mean Gardiner plus four more, possibly including Tunstall. Marillac also heard that Barnes would soon be released and Latimer made bishop again – ‘so great is the inconstancy of the English’. The bishops, the ambassador continued, were still locked in ‘irreconcilable division’ and the people hardly knew what to believe. Interestingly, Cranmer had preached a sermon at Paul’s Cross quite contrary to the one Gardiner gave there in Lent, which had sparked off the Barnes trouble. It is likely that this sermon was Cromwell’s idea, because apart from Philip Melanchthon, Cranmer was about the only man in Europe who stood any chance of persuading Henry to accept justification by faith.32
Cromwell then ordered Wilson to state what contact he had had with Dr Hilliard (or Heylard), a former chaplain to Bishop Tunstall, now an alleged traitor and fugitive in Scotland. Wilson wrote to Cromwell on 4 June. An anxious man now, he protested his loyalty to Henry; he admitted conversations with Hilliard at Tunstall’s house on various points, but nothing treasonable was said or concocted. He also admitted having helped three long-time prisoners and supporters of Catherine of Aragon �
�� Abel, Featherstone and Powell – but he assured Cromwell he did not share their Papalist views. Meanwhile, again on Cromwell’s orders, Lady Lisle was examined by Sussex and Sir John Cage, though nothing significant was wrung from her.33
Cromwell then sent two of his trusty agents, Dr Peter and Mr Bellows, to question Bishops Tunstall and Sampson about conversations between themselves and with Gardiner. Tunstall denied he had urged Sampson to ‘lean and stick to the old usages and traditions of the church’. Sampson was stunned when he heard this – Tunstall and the late bishop of London were ‘fully bent to maintain as many of the old usages and traditions as they might’, he spluttered. Sampson, however, gave nothing away that might implicate Gardiner: he had said only that ceremonies ‘were not to be broken without a great cause, and some of them were in no wise to be broken’. This apart, Gardiner had prudently advised Sampson to leave the matter of ceremonies and church traditions to the king. Prospects for the unfortunate Sampson now looked bleak, for his denials left Henry unimpressed. Ralph Sadler, after meeting Henry, reported that the king ‘liked both him and the matter the worse, perceiving by the examinations that there were witnesses sufficient to condemn him’.34
So Sampson and Wilson were languishing and fretting in jail. Cromwell’s men had also spoken to Tunstall, who by now must have regretted murmuring against taxing the clergy in parliament (see here). Cromwell was even closing in on Gardiner, though nothing had been unearthed to incriminate him – yet. ‘Wily Winchester’ had taken care with his words, even to his closest friends.
But Gardiner had reason to be nervous, as another short digression will show. As Henry’s ambassador in France from 1536–8, Gardiner had some contacts with Rome about Reginald Pole, though always discreetly, through intermediaries, and with no commitments or treasonable words. Just after Pole was made papal legate, however, Henry was furious with Gardiner and Sir Francis Bryan for failing to apprehend Pole on a visit to France. King Francis – under pressure from Henry to hand Pole over, and from the pope to receive him honourably – compromised by asking Pole to leave France quietly and unharmed. Henry was enraged yet further when word reached him that Gardiner had connived at this.35 Sometime later, Gardiner and Bryan quarrelled. When Gardiner returned from France in September 1538 the council received a report that, according to Bryan, ‘my lord of Winchester should have said he could devise a way how the king’s majesty might have all things up right with the said bishop of Rome and his highness’ honour saved’. Ralph Sadler questioned Bryan on the matter, but Bryan then denied everything.36
The Rise and Fall of Thomas Cromwell Page 44