THE FALL OF THOMAS CROMWELL
While Henry and Cromwell had been occupied in negotiations with various
German princes, the Emperor and the French King had not been idle. Every
day seemed to bring some fresh confirmation of the unwelcome news that
the two monarchs were again on the most friendly terms. By the middle of
December the anxiety of England reached the highest pitch, for the
report came that Francis and Charles had actually met at Loches, and
that their first interview had been marked by every demonstration of
cordiality[677]. The French King accompanied the Emperor on his journey
northward, and on New Year’s Day they entered Paris together amid great
rejoicing. For eight days the Louvre saw a succession of balls, fêtes,
and jousts. It is said that Jean Cousin was ordered to make a bust of
the Emperor[678].
But if the meeting of Charles and Francis and their apparently perfect
amity were the cause of profound alarm in England, the proximity of the
two rivals furnished at the same time an admirable opportunity for a
last attempt to stir up jealousy between them. The King, who as we have
seen had never even in his most anxious moments abandoned the hope of
fomenting discord between the two sovereigns, was not the man to permit
this chance to escape him. Sir Thomas Wyatt, who had been recalled from
Spain a short time before, was now sent back to Paris to co-operate with
Bonner, the ambassador to France, in the endeavour to make use of the
situation for Henry’s purposes[679]. His instructions to express the
King’s joy at the prospect of a renewal of amity between Francis and
Charles were of course merely a blind to cover his real intentions. It
was not long before the character of the latter was made plainly
evident. Wyatt wrote a full account of his proceedings to Henry on
January 7, 1540[680]. In his letter he did not say whether he paid any
attention to the written instructions which the King had previously
given him or not, but reported his endeavours to obtain the arrest of
one Brancetour, an Englishman in the Emperor’s train, whom the Act of
Attainder of 1539 had condemned. From Wyatt’s account, however, it
appears that the actual taking of Brancetour was a matter of secondary
importance, compared to the possibility it opened of stirring up a
quarrel between Francis and Charles. The two ambassadors had waited upon
the French King, and had readily obtained his consent to the arrest.
Brancetour was taken, but insisted that he acknowledged no master except
the Emperor, and was consequently not amenable to English law. He
applied to Charles, who of course refused to give his servant up; the
matter was again brought before the French King, who, being far more
anxious to secure the good will of the Emperor than that of Henry, gave
orders for the prisoner’s release. At first it seemed as if the efforts
of the two ambassadors had merely resulted in drawing Charles and
Francis closer together. Chagrined at the failure of his efforts, Bonner
had made matters worse by rudely remonstrating with the French King for
permitting Brancetour to be restored to liberty. The chief result of
this proceeding was that the English ambassador became so generally
hated at the French Court on account of his bluntness and discourtesy,
that Henry felt obliged to recall him in favour of Sir John Wallop[681].
With the ground cleared by the retirement of his unpopular colleague,
Sir Thomas Wyatt was able to display to far greater advantage that
wealth of tact and diplomatic talent, which had rendered him such an
invaluable servant to Henry at the Emperor’s Court. He immediately saw
that it was useless to blame Francis, as Bonner had done, for an act
which the situation had forced upon him, and he forbore to mention the
affair of Brancetour again in the presence of the French King. Instead
he addressed himself to Charles, and in the most careful and guarded
phrases insinuated that the Emperor had shown ingratitude to Henry, in
obtaining the Englishman’s release[682]. Wyatt’s action throughout was
characterized by an external courtesy quite as remarkable as the
previous rudeness of Bonner, and his efforts were finally rewarded in a
manner which exceeded the King’s highest expectations. He had caught the
Emperor off his guard, and the first result of his representations was
to cause the usually imperturbable Charles completely to lose his
temper. The Emperor in his vexation let several words escape him, of
which Wyatt was prompt to take advantage. When reproached with
ingratitude, Charles had turned sharply on the ambassador with a few
angry words, which implied that it was impossible for him to be
‘ingrate’ to Henry, on account of the superiority of his own Imperial
rank. The Emperor confessed that ‘the inferyour’ might be ‘ingrate to
the greter,’ though the term was ‘skant sufferable bytwene lyke[683],’
but hinted that an accusation of ingratitude from the petty King of
England against himself, the acknowledged head of Christendom, was
entirely out of place. All this was reported at the English Court in
early February. The use which Henry made of the information is
remarkable. As a result of Wyatt’s communications, the Duke of Norfolk
was sent with a special message to Francis[684]. He was ordered to quote
all the conversation between Charles and Wyatt, but so to distort the
meaning of the Emperor’s angry words as to make it appear that Charles
was using Francis’ friendship merely as a stepping-stone to an ulterior
purpose, and perhaps to a plan for the domination of Europe. Charles’
unfortunate slip about superiors and inferiors lent itself well to such
an interpretation. On February 15 the Duke arrived at the French Court,
of which Charles had already taken leave, and was immediately received
by Francis[685]. From Norfolk’s own report it is evident that he had at
last succeeded in creating serious distrust of the Emperor in the mind
of the French King, and he reported to Henry that by Francis’
countenance he ‘dyd conjecte He was not content with thEmperours
wordes[686].’
Of course the intrigues of Norfolk and Wyatt were only one of a number
of things which contributed to cause the quarrel between Charles and
Francis to break out afresh. The ground had been pretty well prepared
for it by a series of petty but annoying occurrences, which had taken
place during the Emperor’s visit[687], and the efforts of the English
ambassadors were substantially aided by Charles’ flat refusal to fulfil
his promises to Francis about the Low Countries and Milan, after the
subjugation of the revolt in Ghent had once more left him a free hand.
But the part which England played in accelerating the rupture was in
itself by no means inconsiderable, and it is of the most vital
importance for our purposes here, to notice that the name of Cromwell
scarcely appears once in connexion with it. It is true that after
Norfolk had succeeded in driving in the first wedge which started the
breach between Charles and Francis, the King’s minister wrote two
letters to Wallop[688], directing him to follow up the advantage already
gained, but they were evidently dictated by Henry, and seem to have been
a necessity forced upon Cromwell by the action of his rival. The fact
was that Cromwell’s identification with the German alliance had cut him
off from bearing a hand in any other part of the foreign policy, and
that his place as a negotiator with France and Spain had been usurped by
his bitterest enemy, the Duke of Norfolk. The latter’s success at the
French Court had proved that the policy to which the King had always
pinned his faith, in opposition to Cromwell’s advocacy of an outside
alliance, had not lost all its efficacy, and the rapidly widening breach
between Charles and Francis showed that the league with Cleves was not
indispensable for England’s safety. More than this, it now looked as if
the treaty with Duke William, far from being an advantage, would become
a positive burden. Cromwell had sought the alliance in the hope of
gaining valuable aid in case England was attacked: it had not occurred
to him that some day the positions might be reversed, and that England
might be expected to give aid, rather than to receive it. The fact that
Charles, instead of planning an invasion of England with Francis, had
gone straight from Paris to the Low Countries[689] and did not disguise
his intention of regaining Gelderland, rendered this disagreeable turn
of affairs distinctly probable. Worst of all, the King’s disgust for
Anne of Cleves had increased so rapidly, that it was useless to attempt
to conceal it. Henry might pardon a political blunder alone, but when
combined with a matrimonial misfortune, it was more difficult to
forgive. Everything seemed to unite to call for a reversal of the
Cromwellian policy. The King’s minister had abandoned as hopeless a
scheme which his rival had been able to show was still feasible; he had
sought a cure before he was certain that prevention was impossible: the
cure he had prescribed, besides being unnecessary, had actually proved
dangerous, and lastly, the matrimonial alliance which formed the basis
of it had turned out a complete failure.
It was certainly the most favourable opportunity that had yet presented
itself for Cromwell’s enemies to compass his ruin, and Norfolk and
Gardiner, the most inveterate of his foes, were not slow to realize it.
The latter, ever since his recall from France in 1538, had used every
effort to undermine the influence of the man who had stepped into the
place which he had coveted for himself at Wolsey’s fall. In alliance
with Norfolk, who returned from his errand to the French King in March,
1540, he now succeeded in gathering to himself all the influential
persons at the English Court who desired the downfall of their plebeian
rival. It did not take very long to discover that Henry was ready to
abandon Cromwell, and as soon as his enemies were certain of this fact,
they saw that all that was necessary for the accomplishment of their
designs was to devise a pretext for the minister’s destruction, more
plausible than an accusation of advocating a useless alliance and an
unfortunate marriage. So faithfully had Cromwell served the King’s
interests, however, that at first it seemed almost impossible to find
such a pretext, but the astute Gardiner was soon able to discover the
one weak spot in his rival’s armour. It is hardly necessary to state
what this was. The only occasions on which Henry and Cromwell had been
brought into collision were disputes over questions of foreign policy,
and the Bishop of Winchester saw that the minister’s reputation as
advocate of an alliance with the Lutherans in opposition to the King’s
wishes, furnished the basis for a charge of supporting their religious
principles in defiance of the doctrines proclaimed in the Six Articles.
No accusation against Cromwell could have been more unjust than this. We
have seen that the minister himself had abandoned the Lutherans by this
time; moreover even in the days when he had urged an alliance with them,
he had never made the least concession to their religious tendencies. We
call to mind at once the significant words that he had spoken to
Baumbach in the previous January, when he had declared that his
theological beliefs were identical with those of the King. Cromwell’s
religion had always been dictated by political expediency; he certainly
had no sympathy for Protestant theology in itself, or indeed for
theology of any kind which did not lead to practical results. But
unfortunately the mass of the people were totally unable to see this
fact, and he was commonly looked upon as the greatest friend and helper
that the Protestants had. As opposition to the Pope had given him his
political greatness, the Reformers had flocked to him for protection
when the Six Articles were passed, and their trust in him was further
strengthened by the inferences which they drew from his foreign policy.
The Bishop of Winchester was perfectly well aware of the actual state of
affairs, and also of the gross misconception of Cromwell’s true
theological position which existed in the minds of the people. If he
could only catch his rival in some definite act which would justify a
distinct accusation of opposing the King in matters of religion, he saw
that the ground was already well prepared for the success of his plot.
The opportunity which he sought was soon to present itself.
It will be remembered that in the early part of the year 1539 Henry had
sent Dr. Barnes to Germany to conciliate the King of Denmark and the
Elector of Saxony. At the news of the passage of the Six Articles, which
of course stultified all his efforts, Barnes had come back to England,
profoundly disgusted at the King’s vacillating policy. Henry felt so
certain of his ground at the time of his ambassador’s return, that in
spite of the requests of Cromwell, he contemptuously refused to grant
him a hearing[690]. The King’s minister was either unable or unwilling
to take the hint, which his master had given him, that Barnes was no
longer in favour, and he was rash enough to attempt to console the envoy
for the ill-success of his mission, by promoting him to the prebend of
Lanbedye[691]. Cromwell had thus played into his enemy’s hand by an
action which lent itself to the precise interpretation which Gardiner
was seeking. It was now an easy matter to hold the minister responsible
for any rash act which his protégé might commit, and Barnes, who was one
of the very extreme Lutherans, did not take long to fulfil the hopes
which the Bishop of Winchester had entertained of his recklessness. He
was foolish enough to take violent exception to a sermon which Gardiner
had preached at Paul’s Cross, in which the latter had denounced certain
Protestant doctrines. Preaching in the same pulpit two weeks later on
the same text, Barnes denied all that Gardiner had said, insulted him
openly, and finally threw down his glove to the people, as a defiance
against the Bishop[692]. Barnes had doubtless presumed on Cromwell’s
protection to support him in this tirade, for it seems that the year
before, when his position had been much stronger, the King’s minister
had successfully defended his friend against a charge of heresy by
Gardiner, and had actually been able to remove the latter from the Privy
Council in revenge for his attack on the Lutheran[693]. But this time
Barnes had gone too far, and Cromwell, whose influence was by no means
what it had been, was unable to save him again. The Bishop of Winchester
complained to the King, who was scandalized, and ordered Barnes to be
examined before him; the Lutheran was utterly worsted in a theological
discussion; he was forced to recant and beg Gardiner’s pardon. This he
did with such ill grace and so many contradictions that he was arrested
and placed in the Tower with the others who had supported him.
All this happened in the last week of March. It was perfectly obvious to
those who had any real knowledge of the trend things were taking, that
Gardiner had made his complaint far more with the idea of harming
Cromwell, than of injuring Barnes himself, and the fact that the
minister had not been able to rescue his friend a second time led many
to predict his speedy downfall[694]. But Cromwell managed to stave off
the ultimately inevitable catastrophe for two months more, and to
maintain his ascendancy until the end of May. He certainly had no
delusions as to the gravity of the situation in which he found himself,
and he fully realized that his best chance of safety lay in making a
humble acknowledgement of his error in favouring the Lutheran preacher.
Though there is no actual record that he apologized to the Bishop of
Winchester, there is every internal evidence of it. That at least a
temporary reconciliation took place between him and Gardiner is proved
by a letter of Sir John Wallop which informs us that on March 30 the
Bishop of Winchester dined at London with the Lord Privy Seal, and that
they ‘were more than iiij hour_es_ and opened theyre hart_es_ and so
concluded that and therbe truthe or honesty in them not only all
displeasures be forgotton, but also in thayre hert_es_ be now perfight
intier frend_es_[695].’ It would have been hardly possible to bring
about even a temporary truce between these two men without an apology on
one side or the other, and it is not likely that Gardiner, backed as he
was by the King, would have been the one to make it. In order to
maintain his very precarious position, Cromwell had been forced to
grovel before a man, whom two years before he could have ordered about
to his heart’s content.
But it had been one of the greatest secrets of Cromwell’s success that
he had never been too proud to take any step, however humiliating, which
he deemed necessary for his profit or safety. Nevertheless it is
doubtful if his apology to the Bishop of Winchester, unaided by any
outside occurrence, would have been sufficient to prevent his immediate
overthrow. The month of April, however, saw two events, one at home and
the other abroad, which further raised his hopes and encouraged him to
renewed efforts to regain his influence. The first of these was the
assemblage of Parliament, an occasion on which Cromwell had always been
able to make himself particularly useful to the King. He was not slow to
realize the opportunity that was offered him, and he laboured with all
his might for the passage of the measures which he knew his master
desired. He made an opening speech in the House of Lords, in which he
said that the King wished concord above all things and desired to
suppress all dissension concerning religious doctrines: and he
emphasized his words by providing for the appointment of a commission to
correct all abuses and enforce respect for the Scriptures[696]. What was
accomplished in this direct endeavour to extirpate heresy is less
important than a move of a more practical nature, which bears every
evidence of being planned by Cromwell. The ancient military and
religious order of the Knights of St. John of Jerusalem was the sole
remaining stronghold of monasticism in England that had been suffered to
escape the onslaught of the King’s minister. To complete the work of
destruction which he had begun their downfall was essential, and an Act
to abolish them and confiscate their property finally passed both Houses
after a prolonged debate[697]. A complicated Taxation Bill, which was
carried through at the same time, seemed also to bear the stamp of
Cromwellian genius. Such services to the Crown had not been suffered to
go unrewarded, for on April 18 those who had prophesied the ruin of the
King’s minister were amazed by his being created Earl of Essex and Great
Chamberlain of England[698]. The French ambassador, who only seven days
before had reported to Francis that Cromwell was tottering to his fall,
now confessed that the new-made Earl ‘was in as much credit with the
King as ever he was, from which he was near being shaken by the Bishop
of Winchester and others.’
The other event which gave Cromwell a momentary ray of hope was the
arrival of a piece of news from France, which at first looked like a
vindication of his foreign policy as against that of the King. Early in
April it was rumoured in London that the French were fortifying Ardres,
and the King’s minister wrote a letter to Wallop on the twelfth
instructing him to demand an explanation from Francis[699], who
(according to the ambassador’s report) replied that ‘He knewe not but
that He myght aswell buyld there or fortefye uppon his borders as the
Kinges Highnes dothe at Callais, Guysnes, and other his
fortresses[700].’ These words, though spoken ‘very gently and nothing in
collour,’ appear to have caused profound anxiety at the English Court,
and Henry’s faith in the success of his plans of fomenting discord
between Charles and Francis received a rude shock. Everything which
tended to justify the alliance with Cleves as a defensive measure was of
course welcome news to Cromwell, who privately must have been as much
encouraged by the messages from France as others were dismayed by them.
But the satisfaction which he derived from the report of the
fortifications at Ardres was only of short duration. There were no
further hostile developments for the present, and an announcement was
soon received from the Netherlands which offered reasons for the
abandonment of the alliance with Cleves far more cogent than those which
the news from France furnished for its continuance. It was reported that
the Emperor, immediately after the subjugation of the revolt of Ghent,
had repeated his demands for the cession of Gelderland[701] by Duke
William, and there seemed every probability that in case of refusal he
would enforce them by the sword. The bearing of this move on the
alliance of England with Cleves has been already indicated. We have seen
that when Charles first turned his steps from Paris to the Low
Countries, Cromwell probably realized for the first time that the league
on which he had based all his hopes might actually work to England’s
disadvantage, and that Cleves might be the sole gainer from it. The news
from the Netherlands was virtually a confirmation of the minister’s
gravest fears. The prospect that he would soon be called upon to defend
an ally whom he had expected to defend him, and for whom he had no real
regard, must have been intolerable to Henry, and the state of his
relations to Anne of Cleves at the time tended of course to increase
rather than to diminish his vexation. Add to this the fact that tidings
of a somewhat disquieting nature kept coming in from Scotland and
Ireland, the blame for which could easily be made to fall on Cromwell,
and one can well believe that any gains the King’s minister may have
made in the Parliament which had met in April were more than
counterbalanced by the losses he had sustained in the course of affairs
abroad. Norfolk and Gardiner probably siezed this favourable opportunity
to weave further plots against their hated rival, and to devise fresh
measures to poison the King’s ear against him[702]. But even had the
enmity of these men been turned into friendship, Cromwell’s political
blunders had got him into a position from which nothing could extricate
him. He had incurred the enmity of a master who never forgave, and his
ultimate ruin could only be a question of time.
The events of the month of May were but foreshadowings of the end. On
the ninth the King summoned Cromwell to a council, at which the
definite abandonment of the minister’s policy must have been openly
discussed[703]. Records of the conference are not preserved to us, but
the result of it was that two days later Cromwell was forced much
against his will to write a letter to Pate, the new ambassador to the
Emperor, directing him to take steps to conciliate Charles and hinting
that the alliance with Cleves might be thrown over at any moment[704].
The latter part of the month brought with it further confirmation of the
minister’s impending fate. Duke William had sent ambassadors to the
English Court, to ask the advice of his powerful ally in regard to the
answer he should give to the Emperor’s demands for the cession of
Gelderland. Henry treated the envoys with marked coldness, and replied
to their requests in the most non-committal manner: he could do nothing
for the Duke of Cleves, he said, until he had more explicit information
concerning the rights and wrongs of the case[705]. The ground on which
Cromwell’s feet rested was being cut away on all sides, and yet
Marillac, in a letter of the first of June, seemed to think that the
arrest of Dr. Wilson for having ‘Popish leanings’ was an indication that
the minister and his few remaining adherents still retained some
influence. He acknowledged, however, that things changed so rapidly that
no person could tell what was going to happen, only he was certain that
one party or the other must presently succumb[706].
The catastrophe came like a thunderbolt, less than two weeks after
Marillac had written this letter. An entry in the Journal of the House
of Lords on June 10 reads: ‘Hodie Vicegerens Regius ... Comes Essex in
hora pomeridiana per Dominum Cancellarium et alios Dominos in Arcano
Domini Nostri Regis Consilio, ex Palatio Regio Domini Regis _Westm._
hora tertia pomeridiana super Accusationem Criminis lese Majestatis
missus est in Arcem _Londinens_[707].’ This bald statement is confirmed
by letters from Marillac to Francis and Montmorency at the time[708],
but a much more striking account of the arrest is contained in another
letter from the French ambassador to the Constable, written two weeks
later. It tells us that ‘as soon as the Captain of the Guard declared
his charge to make him prisoner, Cromwell in a rage cast his bonnet on
the ground, saying to the Duke of Norfolk and others of the Privy
Council assembled there, that this was the reward of his services, and
that he appealed to their consciences as to whether he was a traitor:
but since he was treated thus he renounced all pardon, as he had never
thought to have offended, and only asked the King not to make him
languish long. Thereupon some said he was a traitor, others that he
should be judged according to the laws he had made, which were so
sanguinary that often words spoken inadvertently with good intention had
been constituted high treason. The Duke of Norfolk, having reproached
him with some “villennyes” done by him, snatched off the order of St.
George, which he bore on his neck, and the Admiral, to show himself as
great an enemy in adversity as he had been thought a friend in
prosperity, untied the Garter. Then by a door which opens upon the
water, he was put in a boat and taken to the Tower, without the people
of this town suspecting it, until they saw all the King’s archers under
Mr. Cheyney at the door of the suspected prisoner’s house, where they
made an inventory of his goods which were not of such value as people
thought, although too much for a “compaignon de telle estoffe.” The
money was £7,000, equal to 28,000 crs., and the silver plate, including
crosses, chalices, and other spoils of the Church, might be as much
more. These moveables were before night taken to the King’s treasury, a
sign that they will not be restored[709].’
On the day of the arrest, a royal messenger was sent to the French
ambassador, to tell him that he must not be amazed at what had happened,
for though common ignorant people spoke of it ‘variously,’ the King said
that he was determined that Marillac should know the truth. Henry stated
that while he was trying ‘by all possible means to lead back religion to
the way of truth, Cromwell, as attached to the German Lutherans, had
always favoured the doctors who preached such erroneous opinions, and
hindered those who preached the contrary, and that recently warned by
some of his principal servants to reflect that he was working against
the intention of the King and of the Acts of Parliament, he had betrayed
himself and said he hoped to suppress the old preachers and have only
the new, adding that the affair would soon be brought to such a pass
that the King with all his power could not prevent it, but rather his
own party would be so strong that he would make the King descend to the
new doctrines even if he had to take arms against him[710].’ From this
and from another letter written by the council to Wallop at the same
time[711] it appears that the King had been able to devise no more
plausible pretext for the destruction of his minister than that which
had been suggested by the Bishop of Winchester, a pretext which as we
have seen was false and unjust in every respect, but convenient in many
ways, especially as it was sure to win the approval of the mass of the
people, who looked upon Cromwell as a true Protestant and hated him as
such, not being able to see that it was solely owing to political
motives, that he had been connected with the Reformers[712]. But the
fact that the charge on which he was convicted was totally
unjustifiable does not in any way imply that Cromwell was wrongly
condemned. There were other perfectly valid reasons for his punishment,
which, however, it was quite impossible to bring forward against him,
simply because the King had shared his guilt. If the number of innocent
persons, whom the minister’s influence had brought to the block, be not
a sufficient warrant for his conviction and execution, it would be
difficult to find a character in English history who merited the death
penalty. But all these crimes could not be laid to his charge because
the King had supported him in them, and he was arrested instead on the
false accusation of opposition to the master to whose service he had
devoted his life.
Cranmer was the only man who dared to say a word to the King on
Cromwell’s behalf. He wrote a pathetic letter to Henry the day after the
arrest, expressing his wonder and distress that one whom he had deemed
so good and so faithful, should be accused of treason, but in vain[713].
The fallen minister was not even permitted a trial in which he could be
heard in his own defence. That terrible engine of extra-legal
destruction, the attainder, by which so many of his own enemies had been
annihilated, was used as a swifter and surer means to bring him to the
block. The Act of Parliament which attainted him was read in the House
of Lords just one week after his arrest[714]: it simply enumerated
various acts and speeches which had been laid to his charge, as
indicating that he had plotted to make himself more powerful than the
King in matters both religious and political, and stated that he had
thus incurred the charge of high treason, for which he was condemned to
die. He was to suffer as a heretic or a traitor at the King’s pleasure,
and forfeit all property held since March 31, 1538. That Cromwell was
deprived of all titles and prerogatives on the day of his arrest, and
was called only ‘Thomas Cromwell, shearman,’ and that his servants were
forbidden to wear his livery, led Marillac to think that he would not be
beheaded, as befitted a lord, but would be ‘dragged up as an ignoble
person, and afterwards hanged and quartered[715].’ This impression was
current two weeks later, for Norfolk told Marillac on July 6, that
Cromwell’s end would be ‘the most ignominious in use in the
country[716].’ It was not until the day of his execution that ‘grace was
made to him upon the method of his death,’ and beheading was substituted
for a more painful and ignominious penalty[717]. For though his arrest
had been immediately followed by his attainder, execution was delayed
for six weeks more, in order that the King might make use of him for a
last time, to gain an end which Cromwell had successfully secured for
him once before, namely a divorce from a hated Queen.
From the day of his arrest, his execution had been a foregone
conclusion; there was no chance of ultimate salvation for the fallen
minister. But as a drowning man clutches at a straw to save himself from
death, so Cromwell, at Henry’s request, wrote a letter, which he must
have known would be useless, to say what he could on his own
behalf[718]. The letter speaks for itself: its denials of the charges
are not as frequent as the acknowledgements of guilt and pleas for
mercy, but it produced no effect on the angry King. What the injudicious
words spoken before Throgmorton and Riche were, it is impossible to
tell; they were probably simply sentences into which a treasonable
intent was read, as into those mentioned in the attainder; the ‘secrete
matier’ which Cromwell was accused of revealing without leave may well
have been a project of Henry’s to get rid of Anne, which for many
reasons it was expedient for him to keep secret, until he was certain
that he could free himself by one blow from the marriage which by this
time had become intolerable to him. To this purpose all the King’s
energies were now bent, and conscious that his fallen minister had known
more of his relations with Anne than any other, he sent him in the end
of June a list of questions on the subject, couched in such judicious
language, that if Cromwell gave the replies he confidently looked for,
they would supply cogent reasons for his divorce[719]. He was sure, he
said, that now that Cromwell was condemned to die, he would tell the
truth and not damn his soul also, by bearing false witness at the
last[720]. Whether Henry’s assumption here was correct or not, it is
impossible to tell. Cromwell knew of course that his chance of pardon
was almost nothing, but he was not so foolish as to throw it away
absolutely; he also knew that the King’s heart’s desire was a divorce
from Anne, and he saw that his only hope lay in aiding Henry to his
utmost to free himself from her. Nor was Cromwell the sort of man to
whom dying with a lie on his lips would mean very much; his whole
interest was absorbed in the endeavour to make the most of the one very
faint chance of escape that was offered to him. Hence it is possible
that the testimony he bore in this case may not have been strictly true.
He appears to have written two letters in answer to the King’s
interrogatories; one of them is in the library of the Marquis of
Salisbury at Hatfield House; the other, badly mutilated, in the British
Museum[721]. Both of them are filled with abject pleas for mercy, and
one of them, which was carried to the King by Cromwell’s faithful Ralph
Sadler, moved Henry so much, that it is said that he commanded it to be
read to him thrice[722]. The two letters tell the same story in slightly
different words: they give a full account of everything that Cromwell
had seen of Henry’s relation to Anne, since they first met at Rochester.
They dilate on the King’s disgust at the first sight of the ‘great
Flanders mare,’ tell how he endeavoured to put off the wedding, alleging
as his excuse the previous engagement of Anne and the Duke of Lorraine’s
son, and finally quote a conversation of Henry and Cromwell, the day
after the marriage, in which the King appears to have informed his
minister that consummation had not followed. The truth of this last
statement is apparently corroborated by a letter which Anne sent to her
brother a few days later[723]. Experience of the very unscrupulous
methods of Henry VIII., especially when matrimonial issues were at
stake, leads the reader, however, at least to recognize the possibility
that Anne may have written this letter under compulsion and the threat
of death if she refused. The testimony with which the King had armed
himself for the struggle he anticipated over gaining a divorce from his
fourth wife, was thus all of it obtained under circumstances that
certainly cast grave suspicions on its veracity; and the modern student
may well be excused for refusing to accept it with that pleasingly
implicit faith which the Convocations and Parliaments of this period
almost invariably placed in the statements of the sovereign[724].
Certainly there was little cause for Henry to doubt his own ability to
wrest a decision of the nullity of his marriage from clergy, Lords, and
Commons. Ten years of Cromwell’s masterfulness had been enough to
convince them of the absolute futility of opposing the King in any
matter on which he had set his heart. The evidence wrung from the fallen
minister almost under the shadow of the scaffold, and the confirmatory
letter elicited from Anne, coupled with a ‘breve trew and parfaict
declarac_i_on’ from the King himself[725], were quite sufficient to
cause Convocation after three days of debate finally to agree on the
judgement that the union was unlawful, and to send their decision to
Parliament on July 12. An Act to proclaim the marriage null and void
from the beginning was hurried through the Houses with all possible
speed, and on the 14th it was passed[726]. From that time onward the
‘lady Anne was treated as a sister by the King’; she was suffered to
live in retirement, adequate lands and money were apportioned to her,
and she remained in England, contented and happy that execution had not
been substituted for divorce[727]. The Duke of Cleves was naturally
enraged at the treatment of his sister, and resolutely refused to
acknowledge that she had been honourably dealt with; but he knew that he
was too weak to avenge the insult, and coldly promised that the
nullification of the marriage would not cause him to ‘departe from his
devotion leage and amytie’ with the King of England[728].
The story of Cromwell’s arrest, followed by the report of the divorce of
Anne of Cleves, was also immediately communicated to France and Spain.
Francis appears to have received the news of the first with unfeigned
joy, and was not slow to signify to Henry his satisfaction at the
unexpected turn of affairs[729]. He wrote again to the King a little
later, asserting that Cromwell had adjusted a dispute over some prizes
taken by the ships of the governor of Picardy, the Sieur de Rochepot, in
such a way that he had derived personal gain from the transaction; this
complaint was sent to Cromwell in the Tower, and drew from him the reply
contained in the last existing letter which he wrote[730]. Francis’
enthusiasm at the ruin of a minister whom he had such reason to hate,
seems to have been somewhat diminished when he learned that Anne’s
marriage had been dissolved, as he naturally saw that this step would
immediately put England and Spain on a better footing. An interesting
account of the ambassador Carne’s breaking the news to Francis, is given
in a letter of Wallop’s to Henry of July 10. Francis, as it appears,
‘fett a gret sighte,’ as if reflecting on the vacillating methods of his
‘nere and dere brother,’ but finally assented that Henry’s ‘owne
conscience shuld be judge therein[731].’ The French King, though he
greatly rejoiced in Cromwell’s fall, was evidently somewhat taken aback
by the first result of the consummation of his hopes. Charles showed
none of the same outward enthusiasm, when Pate declared to him the news
of Cromwell’s arrest; he did not even send a message, but left the
ambassador in a later letter to the King to supplement his silence with
his own approval. His replies to the news of the divorce of Anne were
likewise calm, but he certainly was much relieved by what he had
heard[732]. The common opinion which the sudden reversal of Cromwell’s
policy had caused on the Continent seems to have been, as Pate wrote to
Norfolk on July 31, that Henry had ‘lost the hartes of the Electors of
thEmpire’ but had ‘contravailed thEmprour or the Frenche King in there
places[733].’
On July 27 the Parliament closed, having finished the work that the King
had mapped out for it. Since Cromwell’s arrest it had practically undone
all that his foreign policy of the two past years had accomplished, by
nullifying the marriage of Henry and Anne. The rest of its proceedings
are unimportant, except perhaps the attainder of Barnes, Garret, and
Jerome, the Lutheran preachers, who were convicted of heresy and
sentenced to die at the stake[734]. With the divorce from Anne secured,
and those whom the minister had favoured at home condemned, there was
now no longer any impediment to the completion of the final act of the
tragedy, and on July 28 ‘Thomas Cromwell, shearman,’ was led forth to
execution. In a letter to Francis, Marillac simply mentions the fact of
his death[735], but a more complete account of the end of the great
minister is fortunately preserved to us in the chronicles of Holinshed
and Hall, and the history of Foxe[736].
From the stories of all these chroniclers it appears that Cromwell on
the scaffold made an address to the people, declaring the faith in which
he died. That his speech was printed and publicly circulated is attested
by Pole; and the fact that Holinshed, Hall, and Foxe give it in almost
exactly the same words corroborates the truth of the Cardinal’s
statement. Pole, however, goes on to say that though at first he
accepted the printed speech as a true version of Cromwell’s words, he
later learned from trustworthy persons that what Cromwell had actually
said was something very different[737]. The words of the speech
certainly have the appearance of being composed beforehand and forced
upon Cromwell’s dying lips. He confessed that he had done wrong, asked
forgiveness of his King, and finally asserted that he died in the
Catholic Faith, not doubting in any article of his faith, ‘no nor
doubting in any Sacrament of the Church[738].’ This last statement was
certainly untrue; nor would it have been in any way less false, if
Cromwell had said that he died a true Protestant[739]. His religious
beliefs were, as far as can be discovered, absolutely nothing when
disconnected from practical ends, and he probably made his last speech
at the King’s command, either to save himself from a more shameful death
than beheading, or else, as is quite probable, to avert the ruin of his
son Gregory, who he perhaps feared would fall with him. On this point,
however, he need not have had any apprehension; Gregory Cromwell,
perhaps on account of his fortunate marriage with the aunt of Prince
Edward, appeared to be in as high favour as ever[740], and the title of
Baron Cromwell, which his father forfeited at his attainder, was
regranted to the young man by patent, Dec. 18, 1540[741].
Besides this speech, which has given historians so much trouble, Hall
makes mention of the fact that Cromwell ‘made his praier, which was
long, but not so long as both Godly and learned[742].’ This prayer is
given in full in Foxe, and, as it reads there, it certainly justifies
the use of the epithets that Hall applied to it[743]. Whether Foxe’s
words were Cromwell’s words, or whether Cromwell’s words were his own,
and not those of the King which were given him to speak, is however
entirely another matter. It is unfortunate that we have no more credible
authority than the martyrologist on this point. Cromwell’s prayer, as he
gives it, was certainly that of a man who humbly acknowledged his
faults, and threw himself solely on the mercy of God; but the words
which he spoke are suspiciously devout, for those of a man to whom
religion mattered so little.
‘And thus,’ says Foxe, ‘his Prayer made, after he had godly and lovingly
exhorted them that were about him on the Scaffold, he quietly committed
his Soul into the hands of God, and so patiently suffered the stroke of
the Ax, by a ragged and butcherly Miser, which very ungodly performed
his Office[744].’
APPENDIX TO CHAPTER XIV
PASSAGES FROM FOXE’S ECCLESIASTICAL HISTORY
Vol. ii. p. 433.
‘A true Christian confession of the L. Cromwel at his death.’
‘I am come hither to die, and not to purge my self, as some think
peradventure that I will. For if I should so do, I were a very wretch
and a Miser. I am by the Law condemned to die, and thank my Lord God,
that hath appointed me this death for mine Offence. For sithence the
time that I have had years of discretion, I have lived a sinner, and
offended my Lord God, for the which I ask him heartily forgiveness. And
it is not unknown to many of you, that I have been a great Traveller in
this World, and being but of a base degree, was called to high estate,
and sithence the time I came thereunto I have offended my Prince, for
the which I ask him heartily forgiveness, and beseech you all to pray to
God with me, that he will forgive me. And now I pray you that be here,
to bear me record, I die in the Catholick Faith, not doubting in any
Article of my Faith, no nor doubting in any Sacrament of the Church.
Many have slandered me and reported that I have been a bearer of such as
have maintained evil Opinions, which is untrue. But I confess, that like
as God by his holy Spirit doth instruct us in the Truth, so the Devil is
ready to seduce us, and I have been seduced; but bear me witness that I
die in the Catholick Faith of the holy Church; and I heartily desire you
to pray for the Kings Grace, that he may long live with you in health
and prosperity; and that after him his Son Prince Edward that goodly
Impe may long Reign over you. And once again I desire you to pray for
me, that so long as life remaineth in this flesh, I waver nothing in my
Faith.’
‘The Prayer of the Lord Cromwel at his Death.’
‘O Lord Jesus, which art the only health of all men living, and the
everlasting life of them which die in thee; I wretched sinner do submit
my self wholly unto thy most blessed will, and being sure that the thing
cannot Perish which is committed unto thy mercy, willingly now I leave
this frail and wicked flesh, in sure hope that thou wilt in better wise
restore it to me again at the last day in the resurrection of the just.
I beseech thee most merciful Lord Jesus Christ, that thou wilt by thy
grace make strong my Soul against all temptations, and defend me with
the Buckler of thy mercy against all the assaults of the Devil. I see
and knowledge that there is in my self no hope of Salvation, but all my
confidence, hope and trust is in thy most merciful goodness. I have no
merits nor good works which I may alledge before thee. Of sins and evil
works (alas) I see a great heap; but yet through thy mercy I trust to be
in the number of them to whom thou wilt not impute their sins; but wilt
take and accept me for righteous and just, and to be the inheritor of
everlasting life. Thou merciful Lord wert born for my sake, thou didst
suffer both hunger and thirst for my sake; thou didst teach, pray, and
fast for my sake; all thy holy Actions and Works thou wroughtest for my
sake; thou sufferedst most grievous Pains and Torments for my sake;
finally, thou gavest thy most precious Body and thy Blood to be shed on
the Cross for my sake. Now most merciful Saviour, let all these things
profit me, which hast given thy self also for me. Let thy Blood cleanse
and wash away the spots and fulness of my sins. Let thy righteousness
hide and cover my unrighteousness. Let the merit of thy Passion and
blood shedding be satisfaction for my sins. Give me, Lord, thy grace,
that the Faith of my salvation in thy Blood waver not in me, but may
ever be firm and constant. That the hope of thy mercy and life
everlasting never decay in me, that love wax not cold in me. Finally,
that the weakness of my flesh be not overcome with the fear of death.
Grant me, merciful Saviour, that when death hath shut up the eyes of my
Body, yet the eyes of my Soul may still behold and look upon thee, and
when death hath taken away the use of my Tongue, yet my heart may cry
and say unto thee, Lord into thy hands I commend my Soul, Lord Jesus
receive my spirit, Amen.’