The Rise and Fall of Thomas Cromwell

by John Schofield

  Cromwell’s commitment to parliament, an institution that frequently frustrated him, may be surprising, for there can be little doubt that he was virtually a royal absolutist. Once he tried to put his rival, Stephen Gardiner, on the spot in the king’s presence by demanding: ‘Is not that that pleaseth the king a law?’ At times Cromwell intervened in elections on behalf of the candidate most acceptable to the king. He rebuked the magistrates of Canterbury for selecting candidates ‘chosen at your own wills and minds contrary to the king’s pleasure and commandment’; Cromwell insisted that the elections be revoked in favour of names Henry preferred. In a more friendly spirit he advised Sir Edmund Knyvett to accept the king’s nominees, not because ‘I do think either of them more able for the office than yourself’, but because they were ‘minded by his highness’, and Cromwell wished that all his friends would ‘apply themselves to satisfy his grace’. With some satisfaction he reported to Henry, in March 1539, that ‘your Majesty had never a more tractable parliament’.16

  This is probably a lot less sinister than it sounds to modern ears accustomed to parliamentary democracy and free elections. It was really nothing more than a bit of Cromwellian manipulating and management in the king’s interest, which was believed to be in the national interest as well. Parliaments were not called to restrain kingly authority, but to underpin and strengthen it. Neither, however, were they required to be excessively pliant. Parliament was expected to debate vigorously, and it could even seek to persuade Henry to change his mind, as Cromwell himself did in 1523 (see here and here). All this was permitted, and neither Henry nor Cromwell wanted a parliament stuffed with vegetables or clones. The aim, as Lehmberg says, was partnership – king and parliament united and working together. As the Dispensations Act put it: ‘In all and every such human laws made in this realm … Your Royal majesty and your Lords Spiritual and Temporal and Commons, representing the whole state of your realm in this your most high court of parliament, have full power and authority’.17

  In Cromwell’s parliamentary management, a distinction needs to be made between fundamental pieces of legislation like the Royal Supremacy, and day-to-day government bills concerning revenue collection, agricultural policy, land reform and so on. Regarding the second category, Henry’s parliaments could be quite independent and at times downright difficult; but on affairs close to Henry’s heart, once Cromwell became Principal Secretary, Henry generally got what he wanted fairly soon. Cromwell would even urge evangelicals to support, or at least not to obstruct, the anti-Lutheran Act of Six Articles, even though Cromwell himself strongly disliked the act, as we will discuss in Chapter 16.

  So was Cromwell a ‘parliamentary statesman’? This question begs another. If Henry was an autocrat who made most of the major decisions himself, can the word ‘statesman’, suggesting someone who plans and directs affairs of state, really be applied to any of his ministers if their room for manoeuvre was so limited? Henry’s ministers existed to advise, serve and obey the king; they were not appointed to dictate policy, or even to formulate policy without the king’s approval. ‘Councillor’ is a less imposing word, but it may be more suitable to describe Cromwell.

  But quibbles aside, for Cromwell parliament was an integral institution of royal government. Its purposes apart from raising money were to enhance royal prestige and authority; to provide a national forum to debate subjects of national interest; to make and unmake laws for the common good; and, generally, to enact the will of the king as God’s anointed on earth. Cromwell would do nothing of any significance without it. If, however, by ‘parliamentary statesman’ we mean a John Pym or an Oliver Cromwell – one who saw parliament as a check on royal authority, who would advance the authority of parliament at the expense of the crown, making it an equal to the crown rather than a pillar supporting it – if this is what a ‘parliamentary statesman’ is, then the expression can hardly fit the Tudor Cromwell. Nor is there any sign in this Cromwell’s thinking of even the germ of the later constitutional monarchy as it is understood in modern times. Though his increased use of parliament may have helped it acquire progressively more power and prestige, future generations of parliamentarians would use that power in a way that would have appalled Thomas Cromwell. He believed in a just and godly despotism, not in a monarch who reigns but does not rule.

  One feature of Cromwell’s period in office was a strengthening of the king’s writ and rule in all parts of the realm, including outposts like Calais. In his first year as Principal Secretary, Cromwell was investigating the administration of affairs in Calais, and giving a mild rebuke to the deputy, Lord Lisle. In 1535, a royal commission under William Fitzwilliam carried out an official survey. Early the following year an act was passed to reform and improve the town’s administration and defences, and establish an executive council under Lisle. As a sign of the government’s integrationist policy for remoter parts of the kingdom, the act also provided for Calais to send two burgesses to parliament. Cromwell’s personal relations with Lisle were not always especially agreeable, not least because Calais soon became a hotbed for religious troubles. However, a discussion of these can be deferred until later because of their association with Cromwell’s fall.18

  Altogether more satisfying from Cromwell’s point of view was his Welsh policy, and his relationship with the man appointed as President of the Council of the Marches, his friend and ally Rowland Lee. Until now such government that existed in Wales had been left largely to local magnates, with little central control. For some time London had been concerned by reports of disorder in Wales, and when Cromwell became Principal Secretary, maybe earlier, he was determined to improve the situation.19

  The so-called Act of Union of 1536 is a slight misnomer, because unlike the Anglo-Scottish Act of Union in 1707, approved by parliaments in each country, no equivalent Welsh parliament existed. All the legislation was passed in the English parliament, which had no Welsh members. Besides, the act claimed that a de facto union already existed, and it invoked the crown’s alleged historical rights over the Welsh marcher lords laid down in previous acts of 1275 and 1352. Be that as it may, the map of Wales was effectively redrawn with a border that survives to this day. It was reorganised into counties with representatives in parliament, as in England. The Welsh were allocated twenty-six members in 1536 compared to 349 in England, which meant roughly the same proportion of the total estimated population (278,000 and 3,750,000 in Wales and England respectively). Local government would be exercised by sheriffs, justicies and other officials, again as in England, and English common law was to apply throughout Wales. Though English became the official language, no attempt was made to abolish the ancient Welsh language entirely, and royal proclamations continued to be read out in Welsh. Many of the Welsh gentry, the men now responsible for the practical administration of the country, were already bilingual.20

  Rowland Lee was an energetic, enthusiastic administrator. His letters to Cromwell, ‘my most entirely beloved friend’, indicate that his first priority was to restore law and order. He asked for money to repair castles and prisons so he could keep thieves securely locked up while awaiting trial. Soon he was reporting that ‘all the thieves in Wales quake for fear’. Sir Thomas Englefield, a justice, agreed – cattle thieving had reduced dramatically, and no one now dared buy cattle suspected of being stolen. Lee was particularly anxious to assure Cromwell that he hanged ‘gentlemen thieves’ as well as common ones – reports must have reached Cromwell that better off villains had an easier time of it with Lee in charge.21

  Cromwell and Lee did not hesitate to intervene if they felt that local justice was not functioning adequately. When Cromwell directed Lee to deal with complaints against two knights ‘by diverse poor men’, Lee promised he would do so. Lee also reported the case of a Welshman, Roger Morgan, charged with rape, but despite overwhelming evidence against him, acquitted ‘to the evil example of others’. This, added Lee, was a ‘vice that is and hath been commonly used in Wales, and hath most need of
reformation’. Lee ordered the jury to be arraigned before Star Chamber and the next assizes, because ‘if this be not looked on, farewell all good rule’. Cromwell then introduced legislation under which juries in Wales could be fined or imprisoned if it could be shown that, either out of partisanship or some other reason, they had knowingly let guilty men go free.22

  Law and order was not Cromwell’s only concern for Wales. On Cromwell’s instructions, John Vaughan had ‘put to execution such enormities and sinful living as we have found here, both to the pleasure of God … and to the comfort of all good people’. Directed by Cromwell to instil some Protestant moral values in the natives, Vaughan sent back a heartening progress report: young men and women previously cohabiting, and with illegitimate children, were now married, while ‘priests with their concubines be now reformed’. Many local people welcomed these developments, said Vaughan; they were ‘thanking God highly that ever such power should come among them to call them from their sinful living unto the knowledge of God’. People attending sermons ‘wail their errors, and be as appliable [sic] to the truth as any that we know’. Nearly 1,000 attended a recent congregation to hear a Bachelor of Divinity, a learned man, proclaim ‘Scripture and the commandments of God’. After this wholesome instruction the people were saying that they had been ‘this great while mocked and deceived by the priests of the churches’. But for a certain Elice Ap Robert – who claimed to have a commission for visitation, but spent his days riding about with his whore – Vaughan was sure Wales could be brought into ‘as good a trade’ as any part of England.23

  Not everyone was as buoyant as Vaughan on the prospects for the spiritual renewal of Wales. Bishop Barlow of St David’s was setting forth the evangelical message and the king’s Ten Articles, and lamenting the ‘ungodly superstition and abominable idolatry’ prevalent in Wales, and the ‘horrible blasphemy against God and detestable delusion’ of the people. Nevertheless, a few were ‘sensibly seeing the long obscured verity’ of the Gospel, and Barlow hoped that his efforts might yet yield some fruit. Barlow was also concerned for the education of the people in his diocese, which did not have a single grammar school. This was the main reason why the clergy, in Barlow’s judgement, were largely ignorant. So Barlow petitioned Cromwell on the subject of setting up local schools. Cromwell’s immediate response is missing, but Barlow did eventually establish a school in Brecon. Cromwell may have been more successful in his campaign for law, order and good administration in Wales than he was in evangelising the country.24

  To keep watch over the northern counties of England and the border country, Yorkist and Lancastrian kings in former times had employed a sort of northern council, usually controlled by a loyal noble. In 1537, after the northern risings and the Pilgrimage of Grace were successfully put down, Cromwell set up a much more formalized Council of the North to impose the king’s will and rule there. This institution enjoyed jurisdiction over all of England north of the Humber except certain parts of Lancashire. It held sessions every quarter in York, Newcastle, Durham and Hull to hear civil and criminal cases. Effectively it became a Privy Council of the north rather than some mere dependency on central government, though it did not have the authority to enact laws independently, and it had to carry out the policy laid down by the king in parliament.25

  These reforms were not quite the same as devolution, as the word is understood today. Letting the Welsh and the northerners have a greater say in running their own affairs was not Cromwell’s chief concern. By appearing to devolve power, his real aim was to increase royal control and authority over the whole kingdom. This policy met its greatest challenge in Ireland, so frequently the political graveyard for English statesmen.

  In late medieval times, Ireland was a land of two cultures, English and Gaelic. English areas, known as the Pale, included Dublin and most of the surrounding districts where the authority of the English king was, in theory at least, formally recognised. Gaelic Ireland comprised largely independent lordships. Before Cromwell’s time, Henry was more concerned with fame and glory on the European continent, and he had not given Ireland a great deal of attention. Too many changes of deputy and too much feuding among Irish lords, aggravated by insufficient funding from central government, all combined to weaken English control. Revenues from Ireland were also dwindling, so the situation that Cromwell inherited was not a very satisfactory one.26

  Though not directly involved with Irish affairs in Wolsey’s time, Cromwell was no novice on Ireland. His Irish policy began around the summer of 1533, when he started making his own appointments. Almost immediately Cromwell met with stiff opposition from traditionally dominant lords like Kildare, who was entertaining rebellious ideas as early as that autumn. Cromwell tried to diffuse the situation by diplomacy and persuasion, but he also persevered with his administrative reforms, including the appointment of a deputy, local justices and other officials. These measures, designed to strengthen royal government at the expense of local magnates, were ready by May 1534. They were seen by powerful figures like Kildare as a threat to their authority and influence. They were more than Kildare could stomach, and open revolt soon broke out.

  Cromwell then put his reform program on hold until the crisis was successfully dealt with. His Irish policy, as Brendan Bradshaw has emphasised, was not a response to Kildare’s rebellion. His reforms began before the rebellion and were interrupted by it. These reforms were also mainly political, not religious. The reformation of the church in Ireland had hardly begun yet, and although some Irish may have hoped for help from abroad, little real, substantial support was forthcoming from Charles, Francis or Rome.27

  Chapuys was slightly adrift in his judgement on Irish affairs. In July 1534 he suggested to Charles that the Irish, because of their loyalty to Rome, ‘ought to be encouraged … or at least entertained with hope’; and that Ireland ‘ought to be secured for our plans, for the Irish only want a chieftain to rise like the others’. Henry and the council, the ambassador continued, were anxious about the risk of an Irish rising with Spanish assistance. Actually the Irish, including Kildare, were neither excessively pious nor especially loyal to the pope, and the rising was defeated much sooner than Chapuys had anticipated. Cromwell knew all along that aid from Charles was unlikely. His agents abroad, including Stephen Vaughan, were keeping him well informed about Irish-imperial contacts. From Cadiz, William Pepwell reported that an Irish emissary to Charles had to return empty handed after the emperor refused to supply arms and men. Here, incidentally, may be one other reason why Cromwell favoured an Anglo-Imperial alliance – it would cut off the possibility of outside help for any Irishmen harbouring rebellious thoughts against Henry, and help bring stability to Ireland.28

  After the defeat of the Kildare rebellion, Cromwell received conflicting advice on how to manage the country. Some urged a ruthless policy to ‘discharge this land of all the sect’ of these rebels. Conversely Norfolk, with plenty of experience of Ireland behind him, warned against repressive action that might alienate the Irish. As so often the case, Cromwell preferred moderation, and he concentrated on constitutional rather than punitive measures. He was tasked by the king with devising an act of parliament which would either entitle Henry to all Irish lands, whether spiritual and temporal, or else require all landowners to pay contributions to the king. Lord Leonard Grey was appointed deputy of Ireland, and plans were laid for an Irish parliament to confirm the Supremacy and the Succession laws. Most of this was completed by summer 1536 with surprisingly little opposition, though some lesser bills for the suppression of monasteries and land taxes were rejected. Like the English parliament the Irish one could, and quite frequently did, refuse to do everything that central government wanted.29

  Cromwell could take some encouragement from reports now arriving from Ireland. John Alen, Master of the Rolls, advised that the king’s sessions had been kept in five more shires than usual, and as a sign that law and order was being imposed, eighteen thieves had been hanged in Kildare. Government
employees reported good order, peace and quiet where strife and misery were formerly rampant. One of them sent Cromwell a roll of white Irish blankets, a blue Galway mantle, and a barrel of aqua vitae. The most serious problem was money, or, more accurately, Henry’s continued reluctance to spend much of it on Ireland. Grey was able to report some military successes, but due to lack of cash much of his army had gone unpaid for three months. His soldiers were mutinous and plundering uncontrollably, contrary to articles and orders. Grey was not universally loved by the Irish, some of whom, he admitted ruefully, ‘delight to put one of us Englishmen in another’s neck’.30

  Shortly after the Supremacy was accepted by the Dublin parliament, three merchants petitioned Cromwell for a passport into Ireland to permit them to sell malt and beans. Unexciting though this piece of information may be it at least serves to illustrate Cromwell’s close involvement with Irish affairs, and it suggests that comings and goings to and from Ireland were supervised carefully. Cromwell also issued detailed instructions to Irish commissioners concerning property rights and land affairs. When the city of Limerick petitioned Cromwell against their mayor, Edmund Sexton, for abusing his office, and when the aggrieved mayor submitted a lengthy defence, all these claims and counter claims had to be studied closely by Cromwell. Henry, meanwhile, remained more interested in increasing his revenues from Ireland than investing in the country. This only added to the government’s problems because financial records, especially of royal revenues, were virtually non-existent in Ireland. According to reports of government agents, corruption was rife.31

  As well as administration and political issues, Cromwell also gave close attention to the Irish church. The late medieval Irish were not an extravagantly religious people. Clerical celibacy, for example, was routinely ignored, and many bishops dabbled in political affairs. However, the legitimacy of English overlordship was not controversial, because it was after an unsuccessful rising against Henry VII in 1487 that the pope had directed the Irish clergy to be subject to the English king. Evidence exists of some religious revival on the eve of the Reformation, but the Irish were no more intrinsically inimical to the new learning than the English or the Europeans.32