The Rise and Fall of Thomas Cromwell
Page 33
There is no evidence that Cromwell spoke German. He did not become a Lutheran councillor until 1531. After this the demands of his office would have ensured that he did not have the time to learn the language of Luther.
Cromwell’s interest in the arts and humanities was wide-ranging. Sometime in 1533 or 1534, Hans Holbein painted the famous portrait (see plate 3). Like Erasmus and Melanchthon, though unlike many famous Tudors, Cromwell preferred to be painted sideways on. Holbein later produced the frontispiece for Coverdale’s Bible and the design for Cromwell’s Great Bible (see plate 2). Cromwell may have been Holbein’s patron, and he certainly helped the young artist in his career. His collection of works of art, both sacred and profane, was one of the most varied and impressive of his time, including painted tables of the Nativity, the Magi, Christ’s Passion, the ‘Pity of our Lady’ and the ‘Salutation of our Lady’, along with Lucretia Romana, coats of arms, a painting of King Francis I at Pavia, and much more.7
History was another of Cromwell’s passions. A close friend of his was Edward Hall, the leading historian in Henry’s reign. In 1535 Cromwell asked for, and duly received, a copy of Bede’s De Ecclesiastica Historia and other historical works to add to his already expansive library. A year later Thomas Bedyll told Cromwell of a discovery he had made in Ramsay Abbey – a ‘charter of King Edgar’, which ‘I am sure you would delight to see for the strangeness and antiquity thereof’. Edgar had signed himself ‘emperor’ of England (incliti et serenissimi anglorum imperatoris). Bedyll had also found a charter of King Edward ‘written afore the Conquest’ in which Edward, ‘by his kingly power could exempt this monastery of Ramsay from all the bishops’ powers’. These findings, as Elton noted, prove Cromwell’s interest in history as history, because ancient claims of royal authority over the church were no longer required solely for political or propaganda purposes. By 1535 that point had already been amply proved, at least to the satisfaction of reformers. Similarly, two years later, Cromwell asked Christopher Mont to translate German chronicles into English because he wanted to understand the history and reformation of Germany better.8
Another of Cromwell’s friends was Thomas Wyatt, one of the foremost Tudor poets before the culturally peerless age of Elizabeth. Wyatt, it was said, once had a crush on Anne Boleyn, and Cromwell’s intercession was called upon to persuade Henry that Wyatt was not one of her lovers. Cromwell may have known the leading musicians and composers of his time, like Thomas Tallis and Christopher Tye, but there is no firm evidence for this. He did, however, keep his own small orchestra of around twelve young musicians, and his accounts include references to‘Mr Bryan’s minstrels’ and a gift of something variously described as a ‘lutte’, ‘lowtt’ and ‘lwwtt’ – probably a lute.9
As well as Hall and Wyatt, Cromwell’s circle of friends included two of the most talented Henrician humanists. Neither man was a devout evangelical. Thomas Starkey came to Cromwell’s attention soon after returning to England in 1534 from Padua, where he had been studying for his law degree. An abiding friendship quickly developed.10 Starkey, however, had misgivings over the suppression of the smaller monasteries in 1536, fearing that it might defraud the departed, especially the monastic founders, ‘of the benefits of prayers and alms … appointed to be done for their relief’.11 Starkey was one of those – Robert Barnes was another – who urged that monastic revenues should be used for the common good. Although he became slightly disillusioned with some of Cromwell’s reformist policies, the mutual respect and friendship continued.
The accolade of the greatest pre-Elizabethan Tudor humanist may well belong to Thomas Elyot, whose friendship with Cromwell began around 1519, and endured as long as Cromwell lived despite differences of opinion over religion and politics. Like Starkey, Elyot was not altogether happy with the direction in which Henry and Cromwell were leading the country. He was grieved by Henry’s divorce from Catherine, by his subsequent marriage to Anne and the ensuing schism. Cromwell had also shown sympathy for Catherine on a personal level, so maybe he was able to identify to some degree. Once he gave Elyot a friendly warning against ‘superstition’, by which he meant the medieval religion to which Elyot’s heart remained attached. Employed by Cromwell in his national survey of the monasteries in 1535, Elyot took the opportunity to ask for some recompense for the losses he had suffered as Henry’s ambassador to Charles V two years earlier; he was not the only one sent on Henry’s service to complain about unpaid expenses. After some delay, it seems that Cromwell did manage to persuade Henry to grant Elyot some lands in Cambridgeshire.12
Inevitably a minister like Cromwell would attract the attention of aspiring as well as established scholars. Elton has given several examples of more or less hopefuls sending their works to Cromwell, either applying for a post somewhere or seeking his favour. They include a former monk, who, after converting to the Lutheran faith, had decided to learn Hebrew and Greek. This done, he offered his services to Cromwell, quoting Richard Morison as a referee. Qualified teachers like Walter Graver and Thomas Hampton asked Cromwell’s help to grant them suitable posts. Less welcome for a busy minister, and hardly necessary for a man of Cromwell’s theological insight, was a long, dull essay on biblical hermeneutics from one Thomas Swinnerton. Welcome or not, evidence exists of a courteous reply to many of these unsolicited applicants.13
So much for Cromwell as Henry’s Maecenas, and the appellation, if generous, is far from being grossly inflated. The rest of the chapter will try to give the reader a glimpse of the personality of Thomas Cromwell, all the while recognising that from a distance of 500 years, a glimpse is about all that can be offered.
Contemporary evidence is liable to be coloured by partisanship, but foreign ambassadors, more likely to be measured in their judgement, generally spoke well of him. The Venetian ambassador’s reports reveal disappointingly little, but Chapuys called Cromwell a ‘man of wit, well versed in government affairs, and reasonable enough to judge correctly of them’. Despite differences and occasional difficulties, their working and personal relationships were generally good, and Chapuys made a point of mentioning to Charles that when a fire destroyed much of his house, Cromwell had been generous with offers of assistance. A sour note was struck by the French ambassador, Castillon, who knew ‘no more hypocritical men’ (plus feintes personnes) than Henry and Cromwell. But Castillon harboured a particular aversion to England. To punish Henry for his schism and heresy, he once dreamed of a threefold alliance comprising of Francis, Charles and the Scots to invade and conquer England, and carve the country up between them. The idea failed completely to elicit any consideration from King Francis. The despatches of Marillac, Castillon’s successor, are altogether more balanced, besides being enlivened by a dry Gallic wit – he once observed that if only Cromwell were as ‘valiant in keeping promises as he is bold in making them’, prospects for Anglo-French relations would be distinctly promising. Elsewhere Marillac described Cromwell as ‘very assiduous’ and ‘willing to do justice to all, including foreigners’.14
John Stow was a Tudor writer, born in 1525, whose works give two sides of Cromwell. First, Stow describes Cromwell, sometime in 1533, building a house in Throgmorton Street by the Austin Friars Church. When the house was finished and space remained for a garden, Cromwell ordered the pales of the gardens adjoining on the north side to be taken down. He then measured twenty-two feet into his neighbour’s gardens, ordered a ‘line there to be drawn, a trench to be cast, a foundation laid, and a high brick wall to be built’. Stow’s father had a house and garden there, and ‘this house they lowsed from the ground’ with a minimum of notice. When Stow senior remonstrated with the surveyors, they replied that they were carrying out Cromwell’s orders, and ‘no man durst go to argue’. Stow notes that ‘the rising of some men causeth them to forget themselves’.15
This unappealingly overbearing behaviour is then counter-balanced by the same author in other parts of his book, where he speaks very well of Cromwell, especially his charity to
the poor. ‘I myself’, he avows, ‘in that declining time of charity, have oft seen at the Lord Cromwell’s gate in London, more than 200 persons served twice every day with bread, meat and drink sufficient, for he observed that ancient and charitable custom’. Stow also recalled another ancient custom, during which the great and powerful ‘did without grudgingly bear their parts in charges with the citizens’, and how Cromwell ‘bare his charges to the great muster’, his men and servants marching ‘among the citizens without any difference’.16
It may seem a little one-sided to take the testimonies of Cromwell’s charity on trust, and then quibble over the story about the house, but there may be good reason to do so. As the editor of Stow’s work notes, a memorandum of Cromwell’s includes items about the purchase of St James in the Fields and certain old tenements in Westminster; it also has references to a new garden, a tennis playing area, another area for cockfighting, and a big wall. The same memorandum mentions the building of the Mary Rose and Hampton Court, repairs to the Tower of London and walls of Calais, wars in Scotland and Ireland and Queen Anne’s coronation. None of these were Cromwell’s personal projects. In fact, the memorandum is a list of undertakings authorised not by Cromwell, but by Henry since Cromwell entered the king’s service. This may not clear up entirely the matter of Stow’s house and his unfortunate neighbours, but it does cast some doubt on Stow’s implication that Cromwell was acting entirely from personal, selfish reasons, and not in some way carrying out the king’s business. Besides, under Tudor law no one could seize land rightfully belonging to another as arbitrarily as Stow describes.17
Other witnesses besides Stow spoke of Cromwell’s hospitality. One grateful guest told him that no one except the king ‘doth keep and feast Englishmen and strangers as you do’. Foxe has a number of anecdotes about Cromwell, some from people still alive in Foxe’s time who may have known Cromwell in their younger days. One story concerns an old woman whom Cromwell owed a sum of money that he had apparently forgotten to pay; when reminded of it he not only repaid the debt, but gave her a yearly pension of four pounds and a livery. An old man whose father had helped Cromwell in times past received similar treatment. Rowdies and criminals liked him a lot less, and a gang of ruffians once scattered at the news that the Lord Cromwell and his train were nearby. On another occasion Cromwell saw a Friar Bartley still wearing his cowl, even after the suppression of religious houses. ‘Will not that cowl of yours be left off yet?’ Cromwell demanded. ‘If I hear, by one o’clock, that this apparel be not changed, then shalt thou be hanged immediately’. The cowl disappeared at once. Either this was a bluff or the story has got a little stretched, because Cromwell did not have the authority to hang anyone on his own say so.18
Cromwell was not a man to hold a grudge. Once he was displeased with Lord Lisle over a minor matter, but John Husee assured Lisle that Cromwell’s anger lasts only a ‘little while’. Following the successful end of the northern risings, Cromwell’s remembrances include a note to provide for ‘wives and poor children of such as have suffered, to the intent that his grace may extend his mercy to them for their livings’.19
Passages from his letters suggest that Cromwell possessed a dry, ironic sense of humour. To Thomas Wyatt, after long and fruitless discussions with imperial ambassadors – ‘I never heard so many gay words and saw so little effect’. Again to Wyatt, this time on Wyatt’s brother and his poor record of attendance at court – ‘I never saw a man that had so many friends here, leave so few perfect friends behind him’. On Wyatt’s diplomatic mission and matters of expense claims – ‘Other men make in manner of their debts mine own, for very oft where they have borrowed, I am fained to pay’.20
Cromwell’s recreations included walking, riding and hunting. A friendly abbot in York once sent him gifts of hawks and falcons. He also enjoyed a game of bowls and dice, and would occasionally play for money, though not large sums. He remained devoted to his surviving family, frequently sending gifts to Gregory and his friends. He helped his nephew Christopher Wellyfed fulfil his wish to enter the church, and he arranged an advantageous marriage for his niece, Alice.21
Gregory Cromwell studied at Pembroke Hall in Cambridge in 1531, and later under the vigilant eye of Cromwell’s friend and ally, Rowland Lee. Tutors spoke fairly well of Gregory’s progress, though a school report by one of them, Henry Dowes, suggests that a little pressure had to be applied – Gregory was now ‘somewhat in awe and dread, ready to give himself to study’, and ‘things which have heretofore alienated and distracted his mind … are now subdued and withdrawn’. Gregory’s range of studies included French, Latin, English, accounting, music and Roman and Greek history. Tutors and others who came into contact with him were not slow to take advantage; we find, for example, Gregory writing to his famous father commending one Sir John Clerk for his kindness, and asking a favour for Clerk’s wife’s regarding her business interests. The youngster also developed a love of hunting, and as a treat he and Wellyfed were allowed to indulge this pastime during breaks in schooling. Dutiful son that he was, Gregory promised his father that he would do his best at all times.22
In August 1537 Gregory married Lady Elizabeth Ughtred, widow of Sir Anthony and a sister of Queen Jane. Lady Elizabeth seems to have been a woman of some spirit. Before marrying Gregory, and not long after her first husband’s death, she had been a suitor to Cromwell for one of the abbeys due to be suppressed. She reminded him of his promise to help her when they last met at court. As she put it, she was a ‘poor woman alone’. Feminine wiles are discernible here because by now Sir Arthur Darcy had set his sights set on her, wooing her with offers of gifts, lands and more. ‘I would have been glad to have you likewise’ he confessed to her, but he ruefully conceded that ‘some southern lord shall make you forget the north’. It is not known whether Cromwell played match-maker for Gregory and Elizabeth, but what little is known about the marriage suggests that it was a happy one. By November 1538 Thomas Cromwell was a grandfather, and doubtless to his delight, the child was christened Henry.23
Cromwell’s relations with the ranks of evangelicals were, predictably, uniformly good. Nevertheless, his friends were not afraid to speak their minds to him. Stephen Vaughan was an angry man when, in his judgement, Cromwell secured the appointment of a ‘Papist, an idolater and a fleshly priest’ as bishop of Chester. This would be Rowland Lee, also bishop of Lichfield and Coventry. Obviously Vaughan did not share Cromwell’s good opinion of him. ‘Remember God in all your facts’, Vaughan warned. Cromwell should know better than anyone the iniquity of this crop of bishops. Vaughan was ‘sorrier for this deed done by you than for all the things that ever I knew you do’.24
Nor were Cromwell’s men afraid to ask him to change his mind when they disagreed with him. Lee again, sometime in July 1534, had caught and convicted a bunch of felons, and Cromwell wanted the lot of them hanged, including one who had turned king’s evidence. Lee remonstrated, and asked that the informer be spared because his evidence had led to the arrest of many. The outcome is not known.25
A surprising exception to the general rule, however, was Nicholas Shaxton. At first an immaculate evangelical, appointed bishop of Salisbury on Cromwell’s recommendation, Shaxton later became embittered and disillusioned with the Vicegerent.
It was in February 1537 that Shaxton’s chaplain, John Madowell, provoked complaints from local people on account of his fiery preaching. The city authorities, apparently unsympathetic to the Reformation, were planning to use the opportunity to prevent Shaxton renewing his charter, partly because of his Protestant beliefs and partly for legal reasons which Cromwell, as Principal Secretary to the king, could not ignore. Cromwell ordered an investigation (probably a stalling tactic), but the issue was not properly resolved until Shaxton resigned his bishopric in summer 1539.26
While this dispute was dragging on, Shaxton became involved in a squabble with the abbot of Reading when he ordered one of the abbot’s monks, Roger London, to stop reading divinity lectures. D
uring arguments between them, London had provoked Shaxton’s anger on various points: he denied that Scripture alone would suffice for the Christian life, he insisted that that faith without works would never justify before God, and maintained that that a person may ‘deserve grace’ through works. Unwilling to suffer this popish talk any further, Shaxton asked Cromwell to let his own chaplain perform the service of reader. Shaxton was mystified when his request was declined. What had happened was that Cromwell had also received complaints from the abbot against Shaxton, and he was taking time to think the matter over. Quite arbitrarily, Shaxton then issued an order forbidding London to read, only to be defied by the abbot.
Shaxton’s real wrath, however, was reserved for Cromwell, whose attitude struck him as inexplicably even-handed. Shaxton admitted that the king’s Injunctions commanded a lecture in divinity to be given, but surely, he argued, ‘if the reader readeth not well … it longeth to mine office to inhibit him’. Why Cromwell had any time for the abbot, Shaxton could not understand. Judge for yourself, the bishop demanded, whether you have ‘exercised your office for edification and not for destruction’. He then assailed Cromwell with texts from Scripture on the Judgment Day to come – ‘the Judge stands before the door’ (James 5:9); ‘The day of the Lord will come as a thief in the night’ (2 Peter 3:8–10). Cromwell should never forget that he would have to account for all he has done. Cromwell should have sacked the abbot rather than ‘take the matter from me by your authority’. Neither was this the first time that Cromwell had offended him; so ‘Our Lord have pity on you, and turn your heart to amendment when it shall please him’. After consoling himself with other Bible verses on patiently enduring adversity, Shaxton reminded Cromwell that he had ‘no power over me except it were given thee from above’ (John 19:11, taken slightly out of context). He feared Cromwell had some grudge against him, but even if ‘all the devils in hell incite and stir you against me’ he remained sure that not a hair on his head would perish. He was also upset that Cromwell ‘seemed to bear’ the mayor and citizens of Salisbury in their action against him. A most indignant letter ends with an appeal to Cromwell to treat him more favourably in future.27