The reader now has all the evidence commonly cited for Cromwell’s alleged perfidy against Anne Boleyn. It comprises fly-by-night stories from Alesius and the Spanish Chronicle, words of Chapuys taken out of context and an untrustworthy translation in the Calendar of State Papers. As a result, a wholly imaginary power struggle between Anne and Cromwell, unnoticed by Chapuys and all other contemporary witnesses, now dominates many modern accounts of Anne’s last weeks. This, unfortunately, is the chief problem with faction theories and conspiracy theories – they succeed only in diverting attention away from the central point. The threat to Anne in spring 1536 came not from Cromwell but from her intimidating husband, now in love with another woman, and from the Seymour party, eager to exploit the king’s affections and hasten Jane to the throne. According to everything seen so far, Cromwell became involved in the royal marital drama only when Henry ordered him onto the case.
What needs investigating now is the extent of his involvement, because this letter of Chapuys is by no means a comprehensive account of the affair, and it actually raises more questions than answers. Besides the points discussed already, it is hard to believe that Cromwell needed to take ‘much time and trouble’ when most of the evidence was readily provided by Smeaton, certain ladies of the court and Anne herself when in the Tower. Then these Flanders ‘prognostications’ are neither explained by Chapuys, nor ever referred to again. It could be that Cromwell received reports from his agents abroad – the sort of thing that modern intelligence services call ‘chatter’ – that aroused his suspicions; but at Anne’s trial no witnesses were called from Flanders, and according to the surviving records nothing at all was ever said about Flanders. Also, as Chapuys’s letter is dated 6 June, nearly three weeks after Anne’s death, there is always the possibility of a little embellishment or spin. Certainly the account he gives here differs noticeably from the reports he was sending back to Charles during the crucial period at the end of April and early May.
Having come thus far, perhaps I may state what I believe happened. On or just after 18 April, Cromwell received an order from Henry – he had been expecting this for some time – to prepare the legal and constitutional case for the king’s second divorce and his third marriage. When allegations of Anne’s adultery followed some days later, Henry ordered Cromwell to investigate these as well. Chapuys has combined the two together; but also, and in order to foster good Anglo-Imperial relations now that the ‘concubine’ had been disposed of, he has exaggerated Cromwell’s role just a little in order to impress Charles V. Readers will be able to judge for themselves after the next chapter.
Notes
1 CSP For., 1558–9, no. 1303, pp. 524–34.
2 J. Collier, An Ecclesiastical History of Great Britain (London, 1708–1714), 1.2, p. 117.
3 LP 14 (2) no. 782, pp. 328–30, 332, 334, 338; LP 14 (1), no. 1353.
4 R. McEntegart, Henry VIII, The League of Schmalkalden and the English Reformation, pp. 61–76. See also chap. 10.
5 For Barnes, see Foxe 5, p. 436; Starkey: LP 11, no. 73; T. Mayer, Thomas Starkey and the Commonweal: Humanist politics and religion in the reign of Henry VIII (Cambridge, 1989), p. 241. See also chapter 14 on the later dissolution.
6 CSP Span., 1534–5, no. 170, p. 480.
7 Elton, Studies 2, pp. 137–54.
8 Burnet 1, p. 331–2.
9 Chronicle of King Henry VIII of England … written in Spanish by an unknown hand, trans. and ed. M.A. Hume (London, 1889). Hereafter referred to as Spanish Chronicle.
10 Spanish Chronicle, pp. 55–61.
11 Spanish Chronicle, p. 64; Cranmer, Misc. Writings, pp. 323–4.
12 Spanish Chronicle, pp. 65–7, 71; LP 14 (1), no. 511.
13 Spanish Chronicle, pp. 75, 84–5, 96–7.
14 VA, England K.7, Konv. 1536/2, fol. 1 = CSP Span., 1536–8, no. 61, p. 137.
15 Collins/Robert, Concise French Dictionary (4th edn, Glasgow, 2000), pp. 109, 678.
16 Collins/Robert, p. 510 under ‘sur’, points c, d. Similar examples in Grand Larousse de la langue française (6 vols, 1972), vol. 6, pp. 5826–7.
9
Around the Throne the Thunder Rolls1
On the European diplomatic stage throughout 1535, King Francis of France was performing a dexterous, threefold balancing act. While earnestly assuring the pope of his loyalty to the Holy See and the Catholic faith, at the same time he kept up friendly overtures to the Lutheran Schmalkaldic League. Additionally, in his recurrent rivalry with Charles V, Francis needed the support of the schismatic Henry VIII. Francis coveted the duchy of Milan, one of Charles’s most prized possessions, and Henry dangled the offer of substantial financial help – up to one third of the expenses of an army to invade Italy and recover Milan, and also Genoa, from Charles. In return, Francis would take Henry’s side if either the pope or Charles attacked England.2
In December Anglo-French talks had reached a delicate stage. Henry remained willing to support Francis against Charles, but he did not want to be seen urging Francis into war against the emperor. To increase the diplomatic pressure on England, the French seized English ships at Bordeaux. Cromwell then sent letters to France to try and get them and their crews released. Cromwell also urged ambassadors Wallop and Gardiner in Paris to do all they could to discover Francis’s real intentions, and persuade the French to pay outstanding sums of money owed to Henry under previous treaties.3
On 8 January 1536, Cromwell wrote to Gardiner to officially inform him and the French of the death of Catherine of Aragon, ‘whose soul God pardon’. He had just finished this short despatch when a message arrived from Henry, and Cromwell hastily added a postscript. Because Catherine’s death had removed the main cause of enmity between Henry and Charles, Henry now instructed Gardiner to be ‘more aloof … in relenting to their [French] overtures or requests’. The French should be left in no doubt ‘what fruit’ Henry may expect to receive from the emperor, who may offer him ‘great pleasures and benefits’, besides ‘dominions or possession’.4
This postscript is crucial to understanding the diplomatic negotiations that followed. Henry had seen opening up before him the prospect of a new relationship with Charles following Catherine’s death, and he was determined to take full advantage of it. So when Cromwell approached Chapuys in February with proposals for Anglo-Imperial amity, he was not following his own personal agenda, but acting entirely in accordance with Henry’s wishes. Chapuys, however, had divined the English tactics well, and he took a tough, though courteous, opening negotiating stance. He would be delighted to see relations with England restored to their former friendship, but he specified four conditions. First, Henry should be reconciled with the Holy See. Second, Mary must be declared legitimate. Third – and subject to agreement on the first two – an Anglo-Imperial alliance would be formed against the Turk. Fourth, a general, comprehensive treaty could then be made.5
To points three and four Cromwell responded warmly. He also promised that he would continue to do all he could for Mary and reach a ‘settlement of her affairs’ in a manner acceptable to Charles. The first point, the most difficult, Cromwell saved till last. Eventually, obviously stalling he suggested that the matter should be considered by deputies appointed by Henry and Charles and Cromwell continued thus for several weeks. Meanwhile he struck a positive note, urging Chapuys to ‘hope for the amicable settlement of all pending matters’. But Chapuys continued with his probing, and somehow he managed to turn the conversation to the Lutherans and the English delegation to Germany comprising Foxe, Heath and Barnes (see here). Their mission, replied Cromwell reticently, was to ‘get the opinion of several men in that country respecting their own affairs, and hear how the people govern themselves’. (For ‘own affairs’ read detailed theological discussions on the Ausgburg Confession, possible membership of the Schmalkaldic League and a major Lutheran delegation to England headed by Melanchthon.) Chapuys was not convinced. He suspected that someth
ing more than a routine fact-finding mission was underway in Germany. He had heard of the invitations to Melanchthon to visit England, he knew that Foxe’s embassy had authority to ‘negotiate and conclude’ with the Lutherans; he knew, too, that Melanchthon had dedicated his Loci to Henry, and that Henry had sent Philip a personal gift in response. Nor was he blind to the fact that Cromwell was on the Lutheran side. For the time being, however, he let the matter drop.6
So Chapuys had reacted to Cromwell’s overture with commendable skill. Chapuys knew that if his first condition – Henry’s reconciliation with Rome – was met, then not only would Charles and Catherine of Aragon be fully vindicated, but also that no Anglo-Lutheran treaty would be practicable. For his part, Cromwell was prepared to do all he could for Mary, but if he wanted to continue with his pro-imperialist policy, he would have to induce Chapuys to soften his first demand somehow. A complex diplomatic poker game had now begun between two of the most intelligent and practised operators in Europe, each eager to restore relations between their respective princes, but each determined to do so on the most advantageous terms achievable. The task would be an intricate one; nevertheless, a useful start had been made.
After his discussion with Chapuys, Cromwell consulted with Henry. Realizing and making full use of his greater diplomatic manoeuvrability following Catherine’s death, Henry was now taking a tougher line towards the French. He upbraided them for their unfriendliness to him, and he noisily called the emperor his friend in front of French diplomats; he also haughtily rejected a request from Francis for financial support in any Anglo-French action against Charles. In an interesting move of royal personnel management, Henry now assigned Cromwell to deal with Chapuys and Norfolk with the French. Norfolk, traditionally more pro-French than Cromwell, intimated to the bishop of Tarbes that if Charles attacked France, Henry would support Francis. However, Tarbes treated Henry no less warily than Chapuys. Probably rightly, Tarbes suspected that Henry’s main aim was to keep the rivalry between Francis and Charles simmering so that Henry could help himself to whatever spoils came his way.7
Chapuys, meanwhile, noted approvingly that many on Henry’s Council were supporting Cromwell’s pro-imperialist line. He had the additional satisfaction of hearing from his own sources (not Cromwell) that Henry was ‘much disappointed and discontented’ with Anne following her miscarriage. During the last days of March Cromwell and Anne were reportedly on bad terms, and those in the know were talking of a new marriage. Chapuys then picked up something much more interesting from his French sources – Henry had asked Francis for his daughter. The prospect of an Anglo-French marital alliance made Chapuys uneasy, so he approached Cromwell to find out the facts.
He began by advising Cromwell to be wary of likely attacks from Anne, and to remember Wolsey’s fate. Chapuys then delicately brought up the subject of a new royal marriage. Cromwell listened patiently and thanked Chapuys for his concern. After musing on the hazards of high office Cromwell began, in Chapuys’s words, to ‘excuse himself for having promoted’ Henry’s marriage to Anne; it was only because he had seen the king ‘much bent upon it’ that he had ‘paved the way towards it’ as we saw in Chapter 4. Then, with his hand over his mouth trying hard to keep a straight face, Cromwell said that he expected Henry to ‘lead a more moral life’ from now on. This was diplomatic gamesmanship from Cromwell – he was playing with Chapuys, keeping him waiting for the information he really wanted. At last Cromwell proceeded to satisfy the ambassador’s curiosity. He assured Chapuys that if Henry married again, ‘it is certainly not among the French that he will look’ for a wife.
Chapuys was relieved to hear this, though not altogether surprised. He had heard from the marchioness of Dorset, one of his most trusted sources, that Henry’s love for Jane had ‘marvellously increased’ of late. Henry had recently sent Jane a gift which she had returned, sweetly avowing that nothing meant more to her than her honour, and beseeching Henry to ‘reserve it for such a time as God would be pleased to send her some advantageous marriage’. Jane, Chapuys continued, had been ‘well tutored’ by Anne’s opponents ‘not in any wise to give into the king’s fancy unless he makes her his queen’. So the Seymour party was naughtily copycatting the wiles that the Boleyns had used in the 1520s. In fact, Jane’s faction had found a way to outsmart Anne’s. In a wickedly clever ploy, one that the Boleyns could never have made about Henry’s marriage to Catherine, Jane was instructed to tell Henry ‘how much his subjects abominate the marriage’ with Anne. Delighted to hear all this, Chapuys was now confident enough to say, in an official despatch on 1 April, that he hoped to see Henry’s marriage to Jane go ahead soon.8
The formal, matter-of-fact documents preserved in the Calendar of State Papers offer only the faintest glimpse into the passions the crisis aroused. Once Anne Boleyn had captivated a king; now she was a scorned woman, and scorned in favour of Jane Seymour, an amiable though by all accounts a rather plain, uninspiring young lady. Determined not to surrender her crown, Anne fired back through a sermon given by her chaplain, John Skip. In a loyal if hardly convincing attempt to envelop Anne with a mantle of Christ-like guiltlessness, Skip took his text from John 8:46 – ‘Which of you convicts me of sin?’ Skip then rummaged around the Old Testament for material that could be topical. He started off with Solomon’s moral decline after taking many wives, then Rehoboam for not listening to wise councillors, and ended up with Haman, the Persian king’s wicked minister who sought the destruction of the godly queen Esther and her people. Even Parliament did not accept the preacher’s wrath, which was actually that of Anne.9
The account of Solomon’s spiritual apostasy, recorded in 1 Kings 11, is a devastating indictment of the man who was once the Lord’s anointed king over His people Israel. He took foreign wives, he turned from the true religion to idolatry, he built an altar for ‘Chemesh, the detestable god of Moab, and for Molech, the detestable god of the Ammonites’, and offered sacrifices to them. Divine anger was kindled against him ‘because his heart had turned away from the Lord’, who warned him that the kingdom of Israel will henceforth be divided in two. The direct connection between the foreign wives and idolatry was a cutting thrust from a queen now furious at all the mischief her enemies were making. It was clever, too, because condemning gossip about a likely new marriage was not technically treasonable.
A digression is now necessary because our conspiracy theorists give this sermon quite a different emphasis. They waste few words on Solomon, and home in instead on Haman as if he was Skip’s (or Anne’s) main theme. This, they claim positively, was a direct attack on Cromwell because of his policy regarding the monasteries, and it riled him so intensely that he began putting together his evil designs to murder the queen.10
If, however, Anne had ever borne any ill will towards Cromwell over the small monasteries, she now had far more than that to vex her. Henry’s heart had turned against her and his affection for Jane was an open secret; while Anne, queen though she was, had to watch and endure the shenanigans of the Seymour party and all the rumours of a new marriage. Cromwell was not the one stirring all this up; he was simply waiting to see what Henry would do, and meanwhile carrying on negotiations with Chapuys and dealing with other government business. And where is the evidence for Cromwell’s deadly retaliation? Only in those words clumsily mistranslated and taken out of context from Chapuys’s letter of 6 June seen in the previous chapter. The facts tell a wholly different story, and even Eric Ives is compelled to admit that Cromwell isn’t doing a thing about Anne at this stage.
When Skip quoted the wicked deeds of Haman, he was complaining about councillor s (the plural), not one in particular, and Anne had more dangerous enemies on the council than Cromwell – Norfolk for example, and Jane’s factional supporters. Because none of Henry’s ministers except Cranmer was showing much sympathy for Anne, this could have been a swipe at all of them. It is, however, true that Cromwell had been called Haman before, and he would be labelled Haman again in the Pilgrimage of
Grace of 1537; but this was the invective of aggrieved Papalists of the old religion, never of reformers. Our conspiracy theorists have now got themselves into a pickle. If Anne is an evangelical queen, as they say, why is she likening Cromwell to Haman, when Cromwell has been smuggling Melanchthon’s Apology into England, reforming the monasteries along evangelical lines and encouraging Henry to treat with the Lutherans? Those who seek to set Anne at enmity with Cromwell succeed only in delivering a devastating indictment of her evangelical credentials.11
For the sake of argument, however, let us suppose that Cromwell was, as is alleged, the prime or even the sole target of Anne’s anger. How did he react? He did nothing at all. The taunts of the doomed queen and the excitable Skip, if they really were aimed at him, passed him by like the idle wind. As Ives himself well notes, when Skip was taken to task for his sermon, he was interrogated on all aspects of it except the Esther-Haman point. Skip later re-appears in the records with Anne when she was in prison in the Tower. Again Cromwell does nothing. Obviously no one, least of all Cromwell, was getting excited over this rather worn and silly Haman jibe. Now in the thick of complex negotiations with Chapuys, he had far weightier things on his mind. Besides, likening a minister to Haman was pretty tame stuff when set alongside the comparison of Henry, Defender of the Faith and Head of the Church, to the apostate Solomon.12
Astute, adult men of state are not like petulant six-year-olds, who must get their own back whenever someone calls them names. Nor do they waste valuable time on petty, personal vendettas, especially when there is nothing worth getting worked up about. And should the time ever come for a sharp, surgical strike against an opponent, they make sure that someone else’s fingerprints are on the knife. So even if Cromwell had wanted to be rid of Anne, he needed only to wait patiently for Henry and the Seymours to do the deed for him. Cromwell was never afraid of this queen’s sharp tongue. ‘She can do me no harm’, he assured Chapuys a year ago. It was true then and it was even truer at this stage. Comparisons with Anne’s putsch against Wolsey in 1529–30 are not valid here. In Wolsey’s last years, Anne was Henry’s true love, the woman who would bear him his heir. In April 1536 she was neither. Her place in the king’s heart had been stolen by Jane. It did not matter any more whether Anne wanted Cromwell’s head off. She may have wanted Jane’s head off too, but there was nothing she could do about it. Henry, not Anne, decided whose heads should roll. The crumbling Boleyn faction had become toothless, and it held no terrors for Cromwell.
The Rise and Fall of Thomas Cromwell Page 20
