THE FOREIGN POLICY
During the ten years of Cromwell’s ministry, the relations of England
with the great continental powers presented a problem fully as difficult
as that afforded by the course of events at home. Cromwell’s efforts to
cope with the dangers which threatened England from without were far
less successful than his internal administration: in the latter he never
failed to render invaluable service to the Crown, while in the former he
made the mistake which finally lost him the royal favour and brought him
to the block. As the results of the minister’s external policy thus led
directly to his fall, we may now return to the chronological order of
events, which was abandoned while the various phases of his home
government were under consideration.
Cromwell had entered the King’s service in 1530 with training and
talents which rendered him far more competent to undertake the domestic
administration of the country than to guide its foreign affairs. His
acquaintance with different trades, his legal ability, and his
experience in the suppression of the smaller monasteries for Wolsey’s
purposes were of inestimable value to him throughout his ministry in
dealing with problems at home. But in the management of affairs abroad
he was still very inexperienced. He had borne no part in the great
schemes of external policy which had occupied the Cardinal, and though
his speech in the Parliament of 1523 showed a very just appreciation of
the situation of England abroad, he had had no opportunity to put his
ideas into practice. Thus at the outset we find him cautiously remaining
in the background and awaiting the development of the King’s foreign
policy. In this he was wise, for at Wolsey’s fall Henry had resolved to
take the external administration of England into his own hands. We have
seen that the Cardinal’s failure had taught him the danger of concluding
any definite alliance with either France or Spain, while the two great
continental rivals remained at war. He had learned that England’s best
security lay in maintaining a position of neutrality between Charles and
Francis, and in balancing one against the other, while all disputes
between them were encouraged under cover of offers of mediation. It was
along these lines that Henry had determined to guide the foreign affairs
of England, as soon as order could be brought out of the chaos caused by
the divorce. How correct his decision was is proved by the utter
collapse of the Imperial alliance of 1543, the only really permanent
departure from the policy of neutrality which Henry ever made after the
death of Wolsey. A complete change of the political horizon led him into
it, only to be left in the lurch by the Emperor at the peace of
Crêpy[538] in the same way that he had been abandoned before by Francis
at the treaty of Cambray. But during the life of Cromwell the King made
no such blunder as this. Though he sometimes wavered, he never
definitely renounced the policy of neutrality, although his minister,
who sometimes doubted its efficacy, made several efforts to induce him
to abandon it. There can be no doubt that, from the very first, Cromwell
over-estimated the danger of a foreign invasion and failed to appreciate
the real strength of England’s isolated position: he was deceived by
constant menaces which never really bore fruit. A more intimate
acquaintance with the practical and calculating nature of Charles V.
would certainly have convinced the King’s minister that however much the
Emperor threatened, he would never actually embark on the somewhat
remote project of a crusade against England, until a great many affairs
in his own scattered dominions on the Continent had first been settled
to his satisfaction. But Cromwell’s inexperience in the management of
foreign affairs blinded him to this important fact: and his
over-eagerness to seek means for England’s defence proved his ultimate
ruin. After successfully co-operating with Henry for seven years on the
basis of maintaining strict neutrality between France and Spain, and of
encouraging all disputes between them, he abandoned the wise policy of
his master in favour of an alliance in Germany which, in one form or
another, had been under consideration on several occasions before, but
which had been abandoned every time as unnecessary. This new alliance
turned out disastrously. At the moment of its completion, the situation
on the Continent which had called it into existence suddenly changed; it
was thrown over, together with the minister who had originated it. Such
is the outline of the history of England’s foreign affairs from 1530
till Cromwell’s fall. We can now take up the very complicated story in
detail.
Although Henry ardently desired at once to put in practice the policy of
neutrality which he had learned from Wolsey’s failure, the affair of the
divorce had thrown everything into such confusion that an immediate
application of the new principle was impossible. In fact it was not
until the beginning of the year 1536 that the King was able to assume
the position he desired in his relations with France and Spain. The
alliance with France which Wolsey had bequeathed to Henry was so close
that the King saw that he must at least partially withdraw from it,
before he could hope to come to such terms with the Emperor as would
enable him to act the part of a neutral and benevolent mediator between
the foreign powers. But at this juncture the King’s anxiety to obtain a
legal justification for his second marriage was paramount in his mind.
In fact it almost seems to have blinded him temporarily to the policy
that he doubtless intended ultimately to pursue. His energies were all
bent towards securing the aid of Francis in his ‘grete matier’; and for
the moment he postponed his policy of conciliating the Emperor, who was
of course at that time in league with the Pope. Each pair of allies had
interviews and counter-interviews, but with very different results.
While Henry and Francis were at first most cordial, Clement counted
Charles’ proffered friendship as of slight weight, against the prospect
of losing the support of the two most powerful kings of Christendom,
and of being forced to submit to the summoning of the General Council by
which the Emperor proposed to rectify the abuses which had crept into
the Holy Church[539]. The visit at Bologna of Francis’ ambassadors,
Cardinals Tournon and Grammont, undid all that Charles’ threats had
accomplished[540], and Clement, although he feebly menaced Henry with
excommunication in case he proceeded with his second marriage[541],
refused to accede to the Emperor’s wishes that he should take more
active measures against England. Meantime Henry had endeavoured to come
to an understanding with the See of Rome concerning the hearing of his
case before a Council, in the hope that by giving the Pope fair words,
he might still obtain a favourable decision[542]. The King’s confidence
in the ultimate success of his efforts was so high at the opening of the
year 1533, that he dared to give it expression by increasingly harsh
treatment of Katherine. She was moved further away from the Court than
ever before, and hardly a day passed without seeing her subjected to
some new indignity. Every effort which her friends made on her behalf
seemed unavailing. As petitions to Henry himself were unanswered,
Chapuys in despair turned to Cromwell, whom he had by this time
recognized as the man who managed all the King’s affairs[543]. But
Cromwell succeeded in evading the demands of the Imperial ambassador
also; in fact he displayed such ability in ‘beknaving’ Chapuys that
Henry always employed him in future to answer the perfectly justifiable
complaints of the Spanish representative. Cromwell delayed the interview
which the ambassador had requested until he had had time to consult with
the King[544]: and when he finally met Chapuys, he spent much time in
applauding all the efforts that had been made to maintain friendly
relations between Spain and England. But when urged to do his best to
protect the Queen and Princess from the ignominies to which they were
subjected, Cromwell’s replies were evasive, if not absolutely
untruthful. Chapuys was so exasperated at the cool way in which his
claims to justice had been set aside, that he took occasion to hint that
Charles and Francis might some day join forces against England, to
‘which Cromwell assented, but showed no great joy thereat.’ The threat,
however, had no lasting effect. The treatment of the Queen went on from
bad to worse, and two months later the same conversation took place all
over again, with the same unsatisfactory result[545]. As long as
Cromwell consented to obey his master’s commands implicitly, and to
devote himself solely to finding means to carry out the plans which the
King’s riper experience told him were feasible, without trying to take
the lead himself, the two were an almost invincible combination.
But the time was soon to come when Chapuys’ prophecy of a coalition of
France and Spain seemed more likely to be fulfilled. Henry’s impatience
to conclude his matrimonial troubles finally led him to throw caution to
the winds. He had, as we have already seen, postponed the application of
his wise policy of neutrality in the hope of obtaining aid from France.
But the French King did not move quickly enough to suit him, and in the
summer of 1533 he committed such a breach of diplomatic courtesy that he
completely alienated his ‘nere and dere brother.’ He had overtaxed his
friendship with the King of France by requiring him to support every
move he made, and to threaten the Pope, if his Holiness refused to do
the same. Francis only partially acceded to Henry’s wishes. Meantime all
hope of obtaining the divorce from Rome had been abandoned owing to
Cromwell’s advice; the affair was tried in England, and Anne Boleyn was
publicly proclaimed Queen. A provisional sentence of excommunication was
passed on Henry in July, giving him till September to decide whether he
would take Katherine back or not. A few months before, Francis and Henry
had together endeavoured to win over the Pope against the Emperor: now
that the bull of excommunication had come, Francis continued his good
offices by offering to mediate for Henry with the Holy See. Henry,
however, blusteringly assured him that he was not in need of any
mediation--he hoped that Francis would not trouble himself[546]. But the
latter would not take the hint that England’s policy towards the See of
Rome had changed from conciliation to open hostility, and invited
Clement to meet him at Marseilles, to see if he could not bring about an
agreement. The Pope, who needed Francis’ aid in the furtherance of his
own plans for the prevention of the dreaded Council, readily accepted
the opportunity which had been offered[547]. Henry was of course unable
to prevent an interview between the two potentates, but he attempted to
throw cold water on the whole affair by sending an embassy to Clement
while the latter was the guest of the King of France, to announce to his
Holiness that he intended to appeal against his sentence to the very
General Council which the Pope was attempting to forestall. The chief
result of this extraordinary proceeding was simply to deprive the King
of the only ally that he had. Francis was naturally exceedingly angry,
and flatly refused to fight Henry’s battles for him any more[548]. Such
was the reward reaped from the alliance which Wolsey six years before
had been at such pains to bring about, in the hope of obtaining
much-needed support in the matter of the divorce[549]!
So far it certainly seemed as if Henry’s foreign policy, instead of
gaining him his desired position as neutral and pretended mediator
between France and Spain, had only served to alienate both. As his cruel
treatment of Katherine and Mary had not improved his position with
Charles, he had to cast about for other allies to counterbalance the
effect of his tiff with Francis. It is at this juncture that Cromwell
first steps into prominence in connexion with foreign affairs. There can
be little doubt that the negotiations with the Lutheran princes, which
began in July, 1533, were planned by him. It is of course natural to
look to the man, whose name six years later became inseparably
associated with a German alliance, as the originator of the scheme; in
addition to this there is documentary evidence. A letter which Chapuys
wrote to the Emperor, July 30, 1533, informs us that two of Cromwell’s
men (one of whom later turned out to be his trusty Stephen Vaughan) had
been sent to Germany presumably ‘to embroil’ all they could[550]; and on
August 3, a letter reporting the progress of the ambassadors was written
by them to Cromwell from Antwerp[551]. Vaughan and his companion, a
certain Christopher Mont, arrived in Nürnberg on the 22nd, whence they
sent home minute accounts of the state of religion in Germany; the one
observing, with apparent regret, that the country was not nearly as
disturbed as had been thought, while the other assured Cromwell that he
had never seen a land whose towns were so much divided[552]. Some time
in the autumn Cromwell sent a reply to Mont, praising his diligence, and
urging him above all things to discover the state of feeling in Germany
towards the King of England and the Emperor[553]. The envoy appears to
have returned from his preliminary tour of investigation before the
close of the year, for in January, 1534, he was sent back again to
Germany, this time accompanied by Nicholas Heath, with instructions to
convey to the Lutheran princes the sympathy of the King of England, as
being also an enemy of the Pope, and to express his willingness to unite
with them for the extirpation of false doctrines[554]. England’s
overtures, however, were not received with as much enthusiasm as Henry
perhaps had expected, and nothing definite resulted from the mission of
Heath and Mont for a long time. The Germans probably had serious
misgivings about the genuineness of Henry’s Protestantism, and their
suspicions of his sincerity were confirmed by a new development of
England’s foreign policy in the same year.
As one of the consequences of an unwarrantable act of piracy near the
English coast in the autumn of 1533, Henry had been able to get hold of
a prominent young man of the violently Protestant town of Lübeck, by
name Mark Meyer. At London he was treated with the greatest courtesy by
the King and Cromwell, and returned to his native city invested with the
honour of knighthood[555]. Such bounty was seldom showered on anybody by
Henry VIII. without some ulterior purpose, and Meyer’s case was no
exception to the general rule. It soon transpired that proposals had
been made for a close alliance between England and Lübeck[556]. Ever
since the peace of Stralsund in 1370, the cities of the Hanseatic League
had claimed a decisive voice in the affairs of the neighbouring realm of
Denmark[557]: the death of the king of that country in April, 1533, had
left the throne vacant, and Lübeck was at this moment bent on obtaining
the disposal of it. Henry signified his willingness to aid the Lübeckers
in this enterprise, on condition that they would promise that if they
were successful they would be guided by him in the final bestowal of the
Danish crown. In May, 1534, the Lübeckers sent an embassy to
England[558], and the proposals of the previous year were accepted.
The new alliance had a very important bearing on the larger issues of
Henry’s foreign policy. The social and political revolution which had
been in progress in Lübeck since 1530 had placed the power in the hands
of a party whose anti-papal tendencies were fully as violent as those of
the Wittenberg theologians, and whose conscientious scruples were of
less weight, when thrown into the scales of political expediency[559].
The treaty concluded with England contained certain doctrinal statements
which lay suspiciously close to the needs of Henry’s immediate
position[560], and the King must have been at least temporarily
convinced that he had obtained a valuable ally against the See of Rome.
The treaty with Lübeck was also a very distinct move against the
Emperor, for an Imperial candidate had been proposed for the vacant
throne of Denmark, and by supporting the Lübeckers Henry necessarily
opposed Charles. But the new alliance failed to accomplish what was
expected of it: in fact it actually worked to England’s disadvantage.
Before its conclusion, George Wullenwever, the demagogue whom the recent
upheaval had rendered temporarily supreme in Lübeck, had offered to
support the claims of the Lutheran Duke of Holstein to the Danish
throne; but when Holstein, unwilling to gain his ends by force,
prudently refused the proffered aid, the friendship of the Lübeckers was
converted into bitter enmity. They soon invaded his lands, but were
repulsed and besieged in turn in their own city: a peace of a most
extraordinary nature finally resulted, by which an agreement was reached
in regard to the affairs of Holstein, though both parties reserved the
right of continuing the war for the disposal of the crown of Denmark.
That country in the meantime, seeing that its sole chance of safety lay
in obtaining a strong and capable leader, elected the Duke of Holstein
to the vacant throne, under the title of Christian III.--a severe blow
to the pretensions of the Lübeckers, who were now robbed of their best
excuse for interference in Danish affairs, namely their professed desire
to introduce pure religion there[561]. Lübeck, however, had now gone too
far to draw back, and prepared to attack the new King in connexion with
England. Henry must have been much annoyed at the complication into
which his new alliance had led him--it seemed doubly foolish, in view of
his attempts to conciliate the German Protestants, that he should get
himself entangled with the enemies of those whom he wished to make his
friends. But though the King was advised by Dr. Barnes, the English
ambassador at Hamburg, to drop Lübeck and conciliate Christian[562], he
was as usual too proud to acknowledge that he had made a mistake. He
soon reaped the reward of his obstinacy, as the Lübeckers, in their new
attempt to overthrow Christian, were again completely defeated. Henry
had aided them with the services of two skilled engineers, and the
Danish King sent an embassy to demand an explanation of his
conduct[563]. Christian’s envoy was treated with scant courtesy by the
King and Cromwell, the latter vainly attempting to conceal his master’s
anxiety by several preposterous lies[564]. But still the King was
unwilling to consent to a complete reversal of his Lübeck policy, and
finally sent the ambassador home with an answer which Chapuys
characterizes as ‘obscure and ambiguous.’ Several subsequent victories
of Christian, in which certain English ships which had been sent to aid
the Lübeckers were captured, were sufficient however to convince Henry
that he had unduly despised the power of the new Danish King; and though
his relations with Lübeck continued to be friendly, he carefully
abstained from any further active measures on her behalf. But he had
already done enough at least temporarily to alienate his Lutheran
friends, who were shocked at the way in which the King of England
attached himself to people whose religious principles were as extreme as
those of the Lübeckers, and who had dared to attack one of their own
number.
Thus each of the two alliances with which Henry had sought to fortify
himself against France and Spain had rendered the other worthless. The
King probably bitterly regretted that his matrimonial difficulties had
led him to stray so far from the policy which he originally intended to
pursue. Had he been able to secure his desired position as neutral and
pretended mediator between France and Spain, he could have relied on
this eminently advantageous situation alone to secure safety for England
abroad, without troubling himself about any outside alliance. But to
attain this position was impossible, as we have seen, until he became
reconciled to Charles, and reconciliation with Charles was out of the
question as long as Katherine remained subjected to such indignity. Here
lay the key to the whole situation. The treatment of the divorced Queen
was the sole hindrance to a cordial relation between Spain and England,
and consequently to the final application of the policy which Henry so
ardently desired. But there could be no hope of an alleviation of her
sufferings, for the King and Cromwell were by this time irrevocably
committed to a brutal attitude towards Katherine and her daughter by the
course of events since the first trial of the divorce. The inference was
obvious. As long as Katherine lived, a reconciliation with Charles, with
all its attendant benefits, was impossible: her death alone could pave
the way for it. That these thoughts had already taken shape at least in
Cromwell’s mind is proved by a hint which the King’s minister dropped in
Chapuys’ presence in August, 1534, to the effect that the death of the
Queen and Princess would remove all occasion for a quarrel between their
masters[565].
But the autumn of 1534 saw several events which served to encourage the
King and his minister, and seemed temporarily to postpone the necessity
of coming to terms with the Emperor. The first of these events was the
death of the Pope in September, an occurrence which, according to
Chapuys, caused Henry and Cromwell such joy that the latter was ‘unable
to refrain from saying several times in public that this great devil was
dead, and it seemed as if he was very sorry that he could find no worse
name for him than devil[566].’ Francis moreover, solely on account of
his very strained relations with Charles, had slowly begun to recover
from the effects of Henry’s discourtesy at Marseilles, and had made
fresh efforts to come to terms with England again; while Henry,
unwilling as yet to proceed to extremities in order to gain the
friendship of Charles, welcomed the prospect of a renewal of amity with
France. But the satisfaction which the King derived from the attitude of
Francis was rudely dispelled in a few months. Several interviews which
had been arranged between the two sovereigns had failed, for various
reasons, to take place, but the Emperor meantime had not been idle.
Imbued with the idea of vindicating the rights of the Princess Mary by
some decisive stroke, he had actually sent the Count of Nassau to the
French Court to suggest that Francis should ask Henry to give her to the
Duke of Angoulême[567]. Francis considered the Emperor’s plan worth a
trial, and in October sent over an embassy under Admiral de Brion to
propose it to the King of England. Henry had little idea of the
unpleasant surprise that was in store for him, and made great
preparations for the reception of the Frenchmen, and Cromwell sent for a
number of beautiful young ladies to come to the Court to entertain
them[568]. There seems to be some doubt whether de Brion first proposed
that Mary should be given to the Duke of Angoulême or to the
Dauphin[569], but both suggestions were equally disagreeable to Henry.
An acceptance of either proposal would of course involve retracting his
declaration that Mary was illegitimate, and annulling his hard-earned
invalidation of his first marriage, and yet he dared not insult Francis
a second time. His first reply, according to Chapuys, was that he would
agree to give Mary to Angoulême if both would make a solemn renunciation
of all claims that they could bring forward to the English throne[570].
But the Spanish ambassador seemed to think that this proposal would not
prove satisfactory, and we gather from the official report of Henry’s
answer that the suggestion was dropped. Instead, however, the King
finally replied that if Francis could obtain from the new Pope a
decision that the sentence of Clement was void, he might be induced to
renounce his claim to the French throne in exchange for certain lands
and titles in the Netherlands, and further hinted that it might be
possible to arrange a match between Elizabeth and the Duke of
Angoulême[571]. But this proposal amounted to little more than a
diplomatic refusal of Francis’ request. De Brion went away disappointed,
and forgetting his usual caution, and the fact that England was still in
a stronger position than France, determined to avenge himself for the
failure of his mission by parading before the eyes of Cromwell and his
master the probability of the dreaded alliance of France and Spain, in
much the same way that Chapuys had done in the previous year. When
Cromwell appeared in the great hall to make the farewell present, the
Admiral disengaged himself from the crowd, and came to the Imperial
ambassador with the greatest civility, expressing his regret at not
having seen the Princess Mary, ‘the principal gem of the kingdom,’ and
finally declaring that if he and Chapuys could only bring their masters
to accord, all would go well[572].
In spite of Cromwell’s boasting, we may well believe that de Brion had
succeeded in making Henry feel very uncomfortable. The inferences which
the King must have drawn from the conduct of the ambassador at his
departure were further confirmed by the ominous silence from France
which followed the Admiral’s return. But Francis himself was in too
precarious a position to afford to throw away any chances, so after a
couple of months’ delay, he pocketed his pride and sent over another
embassy under Palamedes Gontier, Treasurer of Brittany, to continue
negotiations on the basis of a marriage between Elizabeth and the Duke
of Angoulême. Henry was all the more annoyed that Francis should take
him at his word, and entertain seriously the somewhat chimerical
proposal with which he had dismissed de Brion; and the mission of
Gontier failed as signally as its predecessor had done, in coming to any
definite conclusion[573]. But Henry had chosen a very poor moment to
administer this final rebuff; for the Emperor had departed on an
expedition against Tunis, and thus left Francis a comparatively free
hand on the Continent. The advantage of position had hitherto lain with
England, but the absence of Charles totally altered the aspect of
affairs. The French King felt himself once more master of the situation,
and was not slow to inform Henry that he did not propose to be dallied
with any longer. The reconquest of Milan was at this moment his heart’s
desire; to accomplish it he needed English aid. So he commissioned the
Bailly of Troyes to convey to Henry a Papal brief which had been sent to
the French Court, and which required all Christian princes to cease to
hold intercourse with the heretical King of England; he further
instructed his ambassador to make it clear that the sole consideration
which would induce the King of France to disregard the brief, would be a
liberal contribution of English gold, whenever he saw fit to make war on
the Emperor. This announcement, which was practically an ultimatum, took
Henry completely by surprise: angry words passed between him and the
French envoy, but there was no use disguising the fact that Francis had
the upper hand[574]. The King finally sent Gardiner to Paris to answer
the French claims; the instructions which the ambassador received reveal
a much more conciliatory attitude than Henry had yet adopted towards
France[575]. The gravity of the situation was further confirmed by the
seizure and detention at Bordeaux of several English ships, for the
recovery of which Cromwell kept writing urgent letters to the Bishop of
Winchester[576]. It was at this juncture that the King and his minister
made a feeble effort to reap some reward from the mission of Heath and
Mont to the Lutherans in the preceding year. Attempts were made to bring
the reformer Melancthon to England, or at least to prevent his going to
Francis, who had sent for him in order to obtain the support of his
followers against Charles[577]. The latter effort was superfluous; the
former failed. Melancthon had no intention of going to France, but the
King and Cromwell could not persuade him to come to England either.
Henry’s agent, Dr. Barnes, however, informed the Lutherans that the King
would not refuse to join in an alliance with them for the defence of the
Gospel, provided they would support him against the Pope, and he
promised them that another ambassador, the Bishop of Hereford, would
come and talk further with them[578]. At the close of the year the envoy
was received in Germany. Long negotiations followed, at first with some
hope of success. A request by the English ambassador that the Germans
would unite with his master in a refusal to recognize a General Council
convoked by the Pope, was favourably received; and the plenipotentiaries
of the Lutherans drew up a response in which they expressed themselves
as entirely in accord with Henry in regard to the See of Rome, and
offered the King of England the proud title of Defender and Protector of
their league. As long as the Bishop of Hereford restricted himself to
theological discussion and abuse of the Pope all went well, but when he
made the more practical demand for aid to his master in money and ships
in case of an invasion, the Germans drew back: they were not prepared to
go as far as this until a more complete agreement had been reached in
matters of religion. Trouble arose also over the question of the King’s
divorce: the Lutherans acknowledged that marriage with a brother’s widow
was wrong, but they refused to admit, if such a union had taken place,
that it was right to break it[579]. The news of the executions of More
and Fisher, moreover, had caused great consternation in Germany, where
every effort was being made to introduce the new doctrines without
bloodshed; and the Bishop of Hereford was finally sent away
empty-handed, the negotiations having resulted in a failure which
plainly foreshadowed the events of 1538 and 1539. Taken as a whole, the
year 1535 had simply been occupied in playing over again the game of
1534. Twice had the French alliance been tested, and it had failed.
Twice had Henry and Cromwell sought security in a league with the
Lutherans--without success. Two proofs had been afforded that a
reconciliation with Charles was the surest road to England’s safety; and
this time the alternative of a closer alliance with France, which, in
1534, had offered the King and his minister a temporary escape from an
ultimately inevitable conclusion, was out of the question. But a
reconciliation with the Emperor, as we have already seen, was impossible
during the lifetime of Katherine.
Under these circumstances then, we can scarcely wonder that the Imperial
ambassador reported to his master that the death of the Queen, which
occurred on January 7, 1536, was due to foul play[580]. Chapuys also
possessed other evidence, which tended to strengthen him in this
conclusion. He had not forgotten the sinister hint which Cromwell had
let fall in his presence in August, 1534; and he had apparently
discovered that in November, 1535, the King had plainly told his most
trusted counsellors that he must be rid of the Queen and Princess at the
next Parliament[581]. Nor did Henry’s unseemly conduct when he received
the news of the death of his first wife escape the notice of the
Imperial ambassador. Chapuys wrote to Charles how the King clothed
himself in yellow from head to foot, and spent the day in mirth and
revelry. ‘God be praised,’ had Henry exclaimed, ‘that we are free from
all suspicion of war[582].’ The ambassador also dwelt at length on the
suspicious secrecy and almost indecent haste with which the body of the
Queen was opened, embalmed, and enclosed in lead; on the very
significant testimony extracted from the chandler of the house who did
the work, and on the statements of the doctor and of the Queen’s
confessor. The verdict of the best modern medical authorities on the
post-mortem examination as reported by the chandler strongly favours the
conclusion that Katherine was not poisoned[583], but died of a disease
called melanotic sarcoma, or, more popularly, cancer of the heart: the
testimony of a sixteenth-century artisan, however, is but a poor basis
for a modern scientific investigation. If the Queen was murdered, there
is every reason to think that Cromwell was chiefly responsible for the
crime. To a man of his character and training such a step would have
been far less repugnant than to Henry, had he once assured himself that
it was indispensable to his purposes. He had had sufficient experience
of the Italy of Alexander VI. and Caesar Borgia to render him quite
callous to the ordinary sentiments of humanity in such matters. He had
never fully realized the innate strength of England’s isolated position;
he was always alarmed by the danger of foreign invasion far more than
his master, and consequently was more ready to adopt desperate measures
to avert it. It does not seem likely that the more experienced Henry
would have originated the plan of murdering his wife, until the crisis
in foreign affairs had become far more acute. Though he fully
comprehended the many advantages of a closer alliance with Charles, he
must have been reasonably certain that he had little cause to fear a
direct attack in the immediate future, especially as the death of the
Duke of Milan in the end of October had opened glorious possibilities
for a renewal of the quarrel between Francis and Charles. Of course it
is mere folly to suppose that Cromwell would have attempted to murder
the Queen without the King’s full consent. It is more than probable
however that--if poison it was--it was he who put the idea into Henry’s
mind, and took the responsibility for its execution upon himself.
In any event the death of Katherine, whether due to natural causes or
‘advancé sinistrement’ as Chapuys expressed it, was the means by which
Henry was at last enabled to attain the position in foreign affairs that
he had aimed at since the fall of Wolsey, and to put in practice a
policy which, combined with a fortunate turn of events abroad, was
destined, for two years, to lead to the most glorious results. It
removed the chief cause of jealousy between England and the
Emperor[584], and enabled Henry to point out to Francis, who as we have
seen had of late been taking a very haughty tone with him, that the
situation of the two countries had again been reversed, and that France
was no longer in a position to dictate. This task Cromwell performed
for him three days after the Queen’s death, with his usual directness
and efficiency. The King’s minister wrote to Gardiner and Wallop on
January 8, indicating that the death of Katherine had removed ‘the
onelie matier of the vnkyndenes’ between his master and the Emperor, and
instructing the ambassadors in their ‘conferenc_es_ and procedyng_es_
w_i_t_h_ the frensh kyng and his counsaile’ to keep themselves ‘the more
aloof and be the more Froyt and colde in relentyng to any their
ou_er_tur_es_ or request_es_[585].’ A comparison of this letter with one
which Cromwell had written to the Bishop of Winchester two months
earlier[586] reveals a very striking change of tone, which nothing else
than the death of Katherine could have rendered possible.
The King’s secretary was no less prompt in pointing out to the Imperial
ambassador the bearing of the decease of the divorced Queen on England’s
relations with Spain. He was not ashamed to remark to one of Chapuys’
men that the Emperor had the greatest cause to be thankful for the death
of Katherine, which in his judgement was the very best thing that could
have happened for the preservation of the amity between Henry and
Charles, as it completely removed the sole cause of jealousy between
them[587]. The Emperor was too hard-headed a politician not to see the
force of Cromwell’s words. We cannot doubt that he was exceedingly angry
at the death of his aunt, which he certainly believed was due to foul
play; but his situation was such that revenge was impossible, and with
characteristic calmness and self-control he determined to conceal his
resentment and conciliate Henry. It was doubtless with his full sanction
that Chapuys welcomed all Cromwell’s proposals, which looked towards a
more cordial relation between England and Spain. Meantime Francis had
not been slow to take the hint which Gardiner, at Cromwell’s command,
had given him, and was again using every effort to regain Henry’s
favour. The breach between the two continental sovereigns was, to the
King’s intense joy, becoming wider every day, with the result that each
was making frantic attempts to outbid the other for England’s
friendship. Henry’s position was for the moment almost ideal. All he
needed to do was to keep the two rivals just evenly balanced. But
precisely at this critical juncture, Cromwell for the first time in his
ministry made a move without the King’s leave, which, had it not been
instantly forestalled, would have completely upset the beautiful
equilibrium which Henry had laboured so hard to establish. The King had
doubtless ordered him to be cordial to Chapuys, in order to
counterbalance the effects of the warmth of Francis; but he had not the
least idea of entering into any definite agreement, which might lose him
his precious position of neutrality. But Cromwell did not see this. He
exceeded his instructions, was voluble in his disparagement of the
French in Chapuys’ presence, and finally brought matters to such a point
that he went with Chapuys to the King to propose an Imperial
alliance[588]. It was the most open avowal he had yet made of a leaning
towards Spain, that he had doubtless cherished for a long time. Born
among the common people, Cromwell’s early life had been spent in that
atmosphere of bitter hatred of France, which for generations had been
one of the most predominant characteristics of the lower classes in
England. In the first half of the sixteenth century, hatred of France
meant friendship with Spain, and from the first years of the reign of
Henry VIII. one encounters at every turn evidences of the devotion of
the common people to the Imperial cause. Wolsey’s policy of peace with
France had won him almost as many enemies among the lower classes as his
reputation as originator of oppressive financial measures. Cromwell had
determined not to make the same mistake that his predecessor had, but he
was foolish enough to err on the opposite side. During the year 1535 he
had given hints that he was no friend of France[589]. His rudeness to
the French ambassadors on more than one occasion had convinced Chapuys
that he favoured the Emperor, but as yet he had not gone far enough to
bring himself into collision with the King. But this time he had
forgotten his previous caution, and his rashness resulted in his first
serious quarrel with his master. Henry may well have been furious that
his minister’s recklessness had threatened to destroy the whole fabric
of a policy which he had been at such pains to put in operation. The
Imperial ambassador gives us an amusing account of a scene which ensued
in the Privy Chamber when he came with Cromwell to propose an alliance
between England and Spain. After Chapuys had propounded the terms of a
possible treaty, Henry called Cromwell and Audeley to him and retired to
another part of the room. ‘They talked together,’ writes Chapuys, who
kept a vigilant eye upon the gestures of the King and those with him.
‘There seemed to be some dispute and considerable anger, as I thought,
between the King and Cromwell; and after a considerable time Cromwell
grumbling left the conference in the window where the King was, excusing
himself that he was so very thirsty that he was quite exhausted, as he
really was with pure vexation, and sat down upon a coffer out of sight
of the King, where he sent for something to drink.’ Henry soon came to
Chapuys, and after being as rude as possible, reproaching the Emperor
with past ingratitude, and asserting that Milan rightfully belonged to
the French, waived the point at issue entirely, and was with difficulty
persuaded to look over the treaties at a later time. ‘At this slender
and provoking answer,’ writes Chapuys, ‘I left the Court, and went to
wait on Cromwell,’ whose regret was so great ‘that he was hardly able to
speak for sorrow, and had never been more mortified in his life, than
with the said reply[590].’
Ample justification was soon afforded for Henry’s strict adherence to
the policy of neutrality, for events on the Continent had moved rapidly
forward, and Charles and Francis were at last at open war. By
restraining Cromwell from making the mistake of cementing an alliance
with the Emperor, and by guarding himself against a too close intimacy
with Francis, the King had succeeded in placing England in such a
position that the two great continental powers were forced to grovel at
her feet. From the beginning of 1536 until the autumn of 1537, when the
truce between France and Flanders (forerunner of the peace of Nice in
the summer of 1538) was concluded, the history of the foreign policy of
England is as simple as it is glorious and triumphant. Henry, constantly
pretending to be desirous of arbitrating between France and Spain, ‘for
the peax and weale of Christendome,’ as he elegantly put it, was in
reality solely occupied with the endeavour to embroil them the more.
Alternately encouraging and repelling advances from both sovereigns, by
judiciously proposing and then retreating from alliances with each of
them, he succeeded admirably in keeping Charles and Francis in a
constant state of anxiety, as regarded his true position. Cromwell’s
letters tell the story of the time very clearly. ‘An answer soo general
that it doth neither refuse their alliance, ne moche encorage them, to
co_n_ceyue that they maye w_i_t_h_out difficultie obteyn their desire’
was the reply which the English ambassadors were ordered to give at the
French and Spanish Courts[591]. So secure did Henry feel himself abroad
that he dared to issue a manifesto in contempt of the General
Council[592], which the Pope had summoned to meet at Mantua, and to
publish the Ten Articles of 1536, which, while primarily intended to
serve another purpose, were politically useful as a formal refusal to
respect it. It was very fortunate for England that her affairs abroad
were so prosperous at this juncture, as the end of 1536 and the
beginning of 1537 were full of anxiety at home, owing to the outbreak of
the rebellion in the North.
This happy state of affairs however was not destined to endure, for
Francis and Charles soon tired of their strife, and in the autumn of
1537 there were signs of a reconciliation. Francis, moreover, had
strengthened his position by a league with the Turk, and began to feel
powerful enough to make a move without Henry’s leave. The first
intimation of this unpleasant fact came to Henry in the shape of a
refusal of a matrimonial offer. The death of Queen Jane had left him
free to marry again, and so gave him an excellent opportunity once more
to mix in continental affairs, which he did not permit to escape him.
Cromwell wrote a letter for him to Lord William Howard and Gardiner,
artfully instructing them to feel the way for a possible alliance with
Mme. de Longueville, who had just been affianced to James of Scotland.
It was too much of a favour to ask Francis to put aside the claims of a
sovereign who had always been his true friend, to make way for those of
the more powerful but perfidious King of England, and Henry’s offers
were, after some negotiations, politely but firmly declined, to the
latter’s intense chagrin[593]. An almost equally ominous note of warning
came from Spain at the same time. Sir John Dudley, ambassador to
announce the death of the Queen at the Spanish Court, had expressed to
the Emperor the King’s sorrow that his repeated offers of mediation with
France had been set aside, whereupon Charles turned on him, and informed
him that negotiations with France were already set on foot, though he
relieved Henry’s anxiety a little by assuring him that no actual treaty
should be made without the King of England’s being included as a
‘premier contrahent,’ a promise which Cromwell was continually harping
upon a year later, when the situation had entirely changed[594].
Thus the year 1538 opened rather darkly for England. The dread with
which Henry watched the increasing signs of good-feeling between Charles
and Francis led him into ridiculous and undignified action. As soon as
it was settled that Mary of Guise was to become James’ wife, Henry
literally scoured the continent of Europe in search of an alliance for
himself or his daughters, which would strengthen his position and avert
the impending crisis. A somewhat confusing set of double instructions
from Cromwell to his friend Philip Hoby, instructing him to negotiate
for possible marriages with the younger sister of James’ wife, with the
daughter of the Duke of Lorraine, and also with the Duchess of Milan,
and to obtain their portraits, is not without interest as revealing
Henry’s state of mind[595]. The first two of these unions, if
accomplished, would of course have rendered him safe from France; the
other would have put him on friendly terms with Spain; but none of them
was destined to succeed. The King even went so far as to permit Sir
Francis Brian, his agent at the French Court, to suggest that various
suitable ladies should be brought to Calais for his inspection, that he
might be sure that he made no mistake. Henry’s proceedings evoked such
ridicule and derision in continental Europe, that Castillon, the French
ambassador, contrived to convey to him the general feeling with such
directness and force that he actually drew a blush from the King
himself[596]. Finding that his endeavours to obtain a suitable wife for
himself were abortive, Henry looked about for an advantageous marriage
for his daughter Mary. By alternately holding out to the Emperor a
prospect of a match for her with the Infant of Portugal, and pretending
to accept a proposition of the French representative, Castillon, that
she should marry the Duke of Orleans, he contrived to lay the basis for
a continental quarrel. But his success in this scheme was very
short-lived. The only person that he could deceive at all was Castillon.
It seems that Cromwell, who again at this crisis took the opportunity to
show his decided leaning towards Spain, had openly disapproved of the
proposed French alliance, and when Castillon complained of this, Henry
turned fiercely upon his minister and reprimanded him, saying that he
was a good manager, but not fit to intermeddle in the affairs of kings,
and finally Norfolk was sent for. Cromwell’s ‘great Spanish passion,’ as
Castillon called it, had got him into trouble again, and the French
ambassador was delighted, thinking that he had at last obtained the
upper hand. But Castillon’s delusions were rudely dispelled three weeks
later, when he learned that the King and Council were resolved ‘to
withdraw from the French match,’ on account of offers which the Emperor
had made, and when Francis wrote that the King’s proceedings only proved
that he was jealous of the negotiations for peace[597]. It is needless
to state that neither of the proposed unions ever took place, and
Henry’s frantic endeavours to frustrate the steadily increasing amity of
France and Spain were entirely unavailing.
Matrimonial agitations being found useless to serve his purpose, Henry
had recourse to other methods to stir up suspicions between Charles and
Francis, and to prevent the dreaded peace. Whatever malicious
tale-bearing and false representations could accomplish was used to the
full by the King and his minister. Cromwell wrote to Sir Thomas Wyatt at
the Spanish Court, directing him to ‘declare how the frenche men show
themself_es_ so ernest to put al in the king_es_ hand _tha_t they offer
vpon any significac_i_on _tha_t themp_er_o_ur_ woll make ... to
condescende to the same,’ and telling how the French ambassador had
promised that Henry ‘shuld for the French king_es_ p_ar_te haue the hole
and entier manyeng of the Peax betwen him and Themper_or_[598].’ If
Henry could not obtain the ‘hole and entier manyeng of the Peax,’ he did
his best to convince Charles and Francis separately that his own
friendship was more valuable to each of them than that of the other.
Furthermore he took pains to assure each one of the two rivals apart,
that the other prized England’s amity so much that great concessions
would be necessary to regain it.
But in spite of all Henry’s efforts to avert it, the news of the truce
between Charles and Francis and of their subsequent interview at Aigues
Mortes reached England in July, 1538[599]. Still so confident was the
King in the wisdom of his original policy of strengthening England
solely by attempts to embroil these two powerful sovereigns under cover
of offers of mediation, that he refused definitely to abandon it, in
spite of the threatening outlook on the Continent. He remembered that
the situation there had often changed before, and saw that it would
probably do so again. He encouraged himself with hopes that in spite of
the failure of his attempts to contract a marriage in France, he might
still gain the hand of the Duchess of Milan, and with the reflection
that the inroads of the Turk into the Emperor’s dominions would be a
serious hindrance to any direct attack upon England. He was unwilling to
seek security in an outside alliance, for fear of imperilling his
hard-won position as a neutral between France and Spain. He wished still
to rely solely on judicious interference in the affairs of Charles and
Francis for England’s safety.
But with Cromwell the case was very different. The closing months of the
year 1538 were the turning-point in his career, for they saw him take a
step which was destined to bring him into collision with the King, and
later to lead him to his death. The original difference of opinion
between King and minister, which first came to the fore in the quarrel
of 1536, now broke forth again under a slightly altered form, which it
was destined to maintain till the end. At first we saw that Cromwell
vented his distrust of the policy of neutrality in favouring a definite
alliance with Spain. The changed situation on the Continent rendered a
league with Charles impossible now, so that the only refuge that
remained for England, if the policy which had been so successful in
1536 and 1537 really broke down, was to court an alliance with some
power outside the two great continental rivals. And Cromwell,
inexperienced, and overestimating the danger of foreign invasion,
certainly believed that Henry’s efforts to maintain his old position
between France and Spain were now doomed to inevitable failure. He did
not see, as the King did, that the friendship of Charles and Francis was
but temporary, and that the old quarrels were ultimately certain to
break forth afresh. He looked the situation as it was squarely in the
face, abandoned once and for all the policy of seeking safety by playing
on the mutual jealousies of Charles and Francis; he frankly recognized
the probability of war, and deliberately courted an outside league for
England’s defence. As he had always considered the friendship of the
Emperor more valuable than that of Francis, so he considered his enmity,
which he now regarded as inevitable, as more to be feared. Consequently,
in looking about for an alliance to fortify England, he sought one which
could be most effectively directed against Charles.
It will be remembered that in order to guard against the danger of a
possible coalition of the Emperor and the King of France in 1533 and
1534, some proposals had been made for a league with the Protestant
princes of Germany; but that owing to theological differences, the
Lübeck affair, and the death of Katherine and its results, the scheme
had been abandoned as useless. As long as the interests of France and
Spain were separated, the value of the German alliance as a defensive
measure was of course lost, and England thought no more of it. But now
that the news of the interview of Aigues Mortes had persuaded Cromwell
that mere meddling in the affairs of France and Spain was not sufficient
to prevent a coalition against England, he turned to his forsaken
friends in Germany once more. Cromwell must have had great difficulty in
bringing Henry to sanction a move to seek friendship with the Lutherans,
but so hopeless did the King’s efforts to prevent a cordial relation
between Charles and Francis appear, that he was at last induced to
consent to the experiment, though, as we shall soon see, his
acquiescence was only temporary. The opportunity for an alliance with
the Germans was in many respects most favourable. The proclamation which
Henry had put forth to show his contempt of the Papal authority to
convoke a General Council, coupled with the Ten Articles of 1536, had
called forth the most hearty approbation of the Lutheran princes. An
elaborate set of instructions in the hand of one of the King’s
secretaries directed Christopher Mont to go to the Germans again, and
tell them how nearly Henry’s theological views coincided with their own,
and to request them to send representatives to discuss with him points
of faith[600]. The fact that the proposals for the German alliance
ostensibly emanated from the King, is no sign that Cromwell was not the
real originator of it. An invitation to send ambassadors could scarcely
proceed from any other source than the Crown, so that the evidence
afforded by the authorship of the instructions to Mont is of small
weight; whereas the course of events in 1539 and 1540 leaves little
doubt that the guiding hand throughout was that of the King’s minister.
Henry’s name really appeared as little as possible in connexion with the
Lutheran alliance from first to last, and only in the most formal
manner. Cromwell’s was the moving spirit in it throughout, and Henry
really never cordially supported him, but regarded the measure in the
light of a disagreeable necessity, temporarily forced upon him by the
apparent failure of his own plans.
But the outside world of course knew nothing of the difference of
opinion between King and minister, and had no suspicion that the
foundations were being laid here for the quarrel which was later to
bring Cromwell to disaster. The Lutherans were greatly flattered by the
proposals that had been made to them, and in May an embassy, headed by
Franz Burckhard, Vice-Chancellor of Saxony, arrived in England. But in
spite of all the trouble that had been taken, the plans of the King’s
minister were not destined to bear fruit, for the only result of the
Lutheran embassy was procrastination which seemed little better than
failure. Theological differences were the ostensible reason for
inability to conclude an agreement, but not the real one. The
Protestantism of the Lutherans differed from that of Henry and Cromwell
in much the same way as that of Tyndale, years before: they cared for
their theology for its own sake, and not, like Henry, as a means to an
end, as a stepping-stone to political greatness. A theological
_entente_, however, would have been possible, had Cromwell and Henry
united to bring it about; but they did not. The true reason for the
failure to conclude an agreement was the obstinacy of the King, which
asserted itself at the very moment that his minister had hoped to gain
his complete consent to the proposed alliance. In the midst of the
negotiations with the Lutherans, Henry’s faith in his old policy had
been suddenly revived by the news that the extensive preparations of the
Emperor, which he at first had feared were to be aimed at England, were
in reality directed against the Turk[601]: the King was at least
persuaded that he had no cause to fear an attack in the immediate
future. Gardiner in Paris, moreover, had been steadily working to defeat
the plans of Cromwell[602], and at the crucial moment his efforts appear
to have borne fruit. The King refused to commit himself any further to
the policy to which he had given his temporary sanction, but which, if
definitely adopted, would have seriously hampered his own schemes. The
most that Cromwell could do was to persuade the King to keep up the
appearance of amity, and not to cut himself off from all chances of
returning to his Lutheran friends at a later date. So the envoys were
sent home in October, with a letter to the Elector of Saxony, telling
him that his representatives had given assurance of such sound erudition
and Christian piety, as would certainly lead to the best results; but as
the matter of the negotiations concerned the glory of Christ and the
discipline of religion, it required much more mature deliberation, and
that a second embassy would have to be sent over before matters could be
concluded[603]. For Cromwell, the dismissal of the Lutherans amounted
to a second rebuke from the King, for meddling in foreign affairs; but
this time the minister did not humbly accept the rebuff as he had done
before, but continued to oppose his schemes to those of his master.
Thus at the close of the year 1538, England was trembling at the
prospect of a coalition of France and Spain against her. The outlook was
certainly alarming, and demanded united action at home. But at this very
moment the King and his minister could not agree on the best method of
averting the peril which was threatening. Each adopted his own way of
meeting it, and the history of the year 1539 is the story of the varying
success of the two methods when brought into conflict. We shall see that
fortune twice inclined to favour Cromwell, only to desert him, after he
had become so hopelessly committed to the policy which he had adopted in
face of the opposition of the King, that there was no drawing back, and
he paid the penalty for his rashness with his life.