Cromwell’s reply, in March 1538, is a masterclass in calming troubled waters. He was, he said, deeply pained to hear Shaxton’s harsh judgement of him. What had he ever done to suffer such reproach? He merely ‘took a matter out of your hands into mine’, and if ‘mine office bid me to do so, what cause have ye to complain?’ Cromwell was unconvinced by Shaxton’s use of Scripture texts, for ‘I trust to God, as great a clerk as ye be, ye allege them out of place’. This was not the first time that Cromwell told a bishop that he had misapplied verses from Scripture; he said the same to John Fisher three years ago as we saw here. Cromwell would not boast, for ‘I know who worketh all that is well wrought by me’; and as ‘it hath pleased His goodness to use me as an instrument, and to work somewhat by me, so I trust I am as ready to serve him in my calling to my little power’. Shaxton had written ‘worse of me that ye ought to think’, but ‘my prayer is that God give me no longer life than I shall be glad to use my office in edification and not in destruction’. Cromwell denied Shaxton’s charge that he abused his power – ‘I did not intend to let your just doing, but rather to require you to do justly’. He also denied showing undue favouritism to the abbot. However, ‘I am much readier to help him that complaineth of wrong’ than to hasten to punish one ‘whom I am not sure hath offended’. Cromwell denied taking the monk’s cause, and he protested his zeal for the evangelical faith. God will be his judge. ‘I willingly bear no misdoers. I willingly hurt none, whom honesty and the king’s laws do not refuse’. He assured Shaxton of his goodwill, and pointed out that ‘you might have provoked some other in my place, that would have used less patience with you’. Nevertheless, ‘I can take your writing and this heat of your stomach, even as well as I can, I trust, beware of flatterers’. Gently but firmly, Cromwell insisted that he would continue his enquires regarding the abbot of Reading and his reader, ‘and if I find them as ye say they are, I will order them as I think good’. But no hard feelings – Cromwell would ‘let pass all that is passed, and offer you such kindness as ye shall lawfully desire at my hands’.28
Shaxton’s anger was not fully assuaged, especially when, a few weeks later, Cromwell asked him to give one Sir John Purches priority over Shaxton’s own chaplain, John Madowell, in a nearby parsonage. Shaxton raised various objections, including his opinion that Madowell could preach better than this Purches.29
The letters of Cromwell and Shaxton to each other both refer to other letters that have been lost, so we do not know all the facts or even the immediate outcome. However, the exchanges are quite revealing nonetheless. First, this Madowell was one of those who, in earlier and unrelated correspondence, addressed Cromwell as Maecenas; so Cromwell was not the type to be swayed or puffed up by the praise of men. Second, though Cromwell was the principal reformer in England, he was not prepared to trample at will over the lawful rights of men of the old faith like the abbot or his reader. Because he was an evangelical, Shaxton seems to have expected that Cromwell would automatically approve his actions against this alleged Papist reader; but when Cromwell decided to investigate the facts himself, and when he saw the matter in a different light, Shaxton became aggrieved. Nor does Shaxton seem to have appreciated the point that evangelising in England had to be carried out with prudence and discretion. It was rash to take the abbot’s reader so severely to task for denying justification by faith alone, as if this disqualified him from carrying out his entirely lawful service. And one of the readers Shaxton wished to advance was, in Shaxton’s own words, ‘a former priest, and for his marriage degraded’ – a staggeringly tactless selection given Henry’s well-known aversion to priests who broke their vows and got married. This brash evangelical over-confidence could all too easily derail the Reformation that Cromwell was trying to steer through thoughtfully and discreetly. In the circumstances, only a man of exemplary patience, who could master his spirit, would have replied to Shaxton’s ill-tempered letter as Cromwell did.
With his main rivals, Cromwell showed restraint and good sense. The man who had most reason to resent his authority was Stephen Gardiner, bishop of Winchester, who might, but for some ill-timed resistance to the king’s Supremacy, have become Principal Secretary himself and even Vicegerent. Cromwell made some effort to soothe Gardiner’s wounded pride, and Gardiner even managed to thank Cromwell for interceding with Henry on his behalf in a minor disagreement he had with one Master Cook. But Cromwell and Cranmer too were wise to Gardiner and the threat he posed both to them and to reform. When Gardiner started to quibble over the technicalities of Cranmer’s title as ‘Primate of all England’ around May 1535, Cranmer gave Cromwell some words of advice about the bishop. ‘As ye know the man lacketh neither learning in the law, neither witty invention, nor craft to set forth his matters … that he might appear not to maintain his own cause, but the king’s’. Cranmer had known Gardiner better and longer than Cromwell, and ‘I cannot persuade with myself that he so tendereth the king’s cause as he does his own’.30
Whether Cromwell influenced Henry’s decision to send Gardiner to France as his ambassador is not known. The posting certainly worked to Cromwell’s advantage, and others have already noted that the prospects for the Reformation looked most promising during the three years that Gardiner was out of the country. Relations between Cromwell and Gardiner remained strained. In April 1538 Cromwell sent the bishop a conciliatory letter to try and end the coolness between the two. There had been a disagreement over something (the details are unclear) and Cromwell’s letter was a peace offering, desiring that differences between them might be forgotten. Unfortunately they were not, and Gardiner will feature again, prominently and antagonistically, later in Cromwell’s life.31
Although Reginald Pole was the author of Cromwell’s Machiavellian image, these two men could, during the mid 1530s, show at least outward civility one to another. Pole was of royal blood, grandson of the duke of Clarence, the younger brother of Edward IV. He was treated well by Henry in younger, happier days; but when Pole opposed the schism and the Boleyn marriage, he decided for his own safety to live abroad. Nevertheless, Thomas Starkey assured the exiled Pole of Cromwell’s goodwill, and Pole thanked Cromwell for his efforts to mediate between him and Henry. In 1537 – two years after the executions of More, Fisher and the Carthusians – Pole was still expressing regard for Cromwell. When Pole planned to go to Flanders, he hoped that if Henry were minded to send anyone to meet him there it would be Cromwell. Pole would have been glad to talk with Cromwell, he said, since both men claimed to be defending the king’s honour.32
But relations soon became much more fractious, especially after the pope infuriated Henry by making Pole a legate. Pole was soon protesting angrily to Cromwell about Henry’s attempts to have him arrested. He began blaming Henry’s councillors for enticing the king to break with the Holy See. Then to Pole’s chagrin, King Francis in France and Regent Mary in Flanders both declined a personal meeting with him in order not to enrage Henry any further. Pole was now musing on the possibility of stirring up another rising against Henry, more successful than the failed Pilgrimage of Grace.33
As late as September 1537, reconciliation remained theoretically attainable when Cromwell issued instructions to Drs Wilson and Heath for a meeting with Pole. Probably at Henry’s insistence rather than Cromwell’s, they were strictly enjoined to address him merely as ‘Mr Pole’. More seriously, they were to press him to repent and wait on the king’s mercy. Should he yield, then Cromwell promised to be a ‘humble suitor’ to the king on Pole’s behalf.34
However, when Henry and Cromwell were apparently tricked by Michael Throgmorton, supposed to be an intermediary between the king and Pole, Cromwell gave a manifestation of that anger which, though it might last only a little while, nevertheless blazed fiercely once kindled. Cromwell lambasted Throgmorton as a man with ‘no fear of God’, who had deceived his ‘natural prince’ and served ‘an enemy of God’ and a traitor to his king. Pole was condemned for maintaining the ‘religion that hath been the ru
in of all religion’, and for his foolish writings, in which ‘one lie leapeth in every line’. ‘Pity it is that the folly of one brainsick Pole, or to say better, of one witless fool, should be the ruin of so great a family’. Cromwell attacked Pole’s ‘ingratitude’, warning ominously that ‘there may be found ways now in Italy, to rid a traitorous subject’. For ‘let him not think, but where justice can take no place by process of law at home, some times she may be enforced to seek new means abroad’. Cromwell also attacked the ‘wily bishop of Rome’, who ‘intendeth to make a lamentation to the world, and to desire every man to pray that his old gains may return home again’. Let Rome rather lament that many will follow the lead of King Henry, who ‘hath pulled his realm out of thraldom’. Rome should ‘not pray so fast that we may return to error’. Even in this wrathful mood, however, Cromwell was still urging both Throgmorton and Pole to repent, ‘and be good witnesses of the king’s high mercy’. But if they refused, then ‘doubt ye not, but your ends shall be as of all traitors for the most part is’.35
Henry and Cromwell began to discuss a plan to kidnap Pole and bring him back to England to face trial. ‘We would be very glad to have the said Pole by some means trussed up and conveyed to Calais’, Henry directed Gardiner and Sir Francis Bryan, his ambassadors at the French court; ‘and we desire and pray you to consult or devise between you thereupon’. There is also some evidence, though sketchy, that the cardinal’s assassination was considered. Under examination, a certain Hugh Holland claimed he heard Pole’s brother, Geoffrey, say that Cromwell ‘said openly in court that he, speaking of the cardinal, should destroy himself well enough, and that Mr Bryan and Peter Meotes were sent into France to kill him with a hand gun or other wise as they should see best’. Because this is a third hand report of what Cromwell is supposed to have said, it must be less than wholly convincing. Cromwell was unlikely to have spoken openly on such a subject. Besides, a kidnap would be a spectacular success, but an assassination a crude blunder. If Pole were found dead in mysterious circumstances one day, all of Europe would guess the explanation instantly. Rumours that his life might be in danger did not concern Pole unduly. ‘Would my Lord Privy Seal so feign to kill me?’ he is quoted as saying. ‘Well, I trust it shall not lie in his power’.36
Cromwell’s relations with the duke of Norfolk, the second most powerful figure on Henry’s council, are somewhat more difficult to gauge accurately. On the surface, they seem to have been markedly different from those he had with Gardiner and Pole. Following Wolsey’s fall, the duke may have coveted the first place beside the king, and because he and Cromwell were on opposite sides in religion, disagreements were inevitable from time to time. Nevertheless, real evidence of recurrent, simmering bad blood is elusive. Norfolk remained Henry’s foremost soldier, and, as Lord High Steward of England, he had presided at the trial of Anne Boleyn. He also undertook important diplomatic missions. None of this was threatened by Cromwell’s rise to power. Norfolk, therefore, was less likely than Gardiner to resent Cromwell’s appointments as Principal Secretary (running the government administration) or Vicegerent (overseeing church affairs on behalf of the king). Neither of these roles would normally appeal to a military man accustomed to the raw excitement of soldiering. Consequently, relations between the two do not seem to have been particularly bad, at least not until the last year of Cromwell’s life. If the nobility were miffed at the pre-eminence of a man of obscure and humble birth, they were by now accustomed to such rebuffs – Wolsey had been a butcher’s son.
In May 1535, Norfolk promised Cromwell his friendship. A year later, when he drew up his will, Norfolk made Cromwell the principal executor, trusting him next only to the king, so he said. After Henry’s illegitimate son, the duke of Richmond, died in summer 1536, Norfolk was given responsibility for organizing the funeral arrangements; but when he heard to his horror that Henry was displeased that Richmond had not been buried with sufficient honour, Norfolk begged Cromwell to intercede for him with the king. The following year the duke was charged with suppressing the Pilgrimage of Grace, and his letters from the northern parts were full of thanks and good wishes to Cromwell. In one of these, after a few details about the situation in the north, Norfolk went on to give his very frank, personal assessment of Franco-Scottish matters. The tone and content of the letter suggest that two men were wont to discuss affairs of the world together unofficially from time to time. According to one witness, Norfolk strongly upbraided the northerners for their hatred of Cromwell.37
However, a little wariness is needed with flowery Tudor felicitations. Seldom do they mean exactly what they say. During his time of service in the north, Norfolk solemnly promised Cromwell, in writing, his friendship for life.38 He did not keep this promise, but there is no evidence that he was tempted into breaking it until he saw that Cromwell was falling out of favour with Henry, something we will discuss in Chapter 16. Until then, Norfolk more or less accepted him. The duke might also have had the brains to see that the place occupied formerly by Wolsey and now by Cromwell – right next to the king – was the most dangerous place on Henry’s council.
Norfolk’s wife also knew Cromwell, though not romantically. Norfolk had married Elizabeth Stafford, daughter of the duke of Buckingham, in 1513. She may have had little choice, for she claimed she was in love with Ralph Neville, heir to earldom of Westmorland. The marriage of the Norfolks, never a blissfully happy one, tumbled downhill dramatically when Norfolk took a resident mistress called Bess Holland and sent his wife away to live in Hertfordshire. It is not clear how or why Cromwell became involved in the Norfolks’ marital difficulties, but in May 1533 he asked Lord Stafford, Elizabeth’s brother, to take her into his house and help bring about reconciliation between her and her husband. Stafford comes over as a less than sympathetic brother; he thought his sister was at least partly to blame for the breakdown in the marriage.39
Apparently despairing of her brother, the duchess appealed to Cromwell, bitterly complaining about her husband’s ill-treatment. No letters from Cromwell to her have survived, but he must have done something to console her because she warmly thanked him for his kindness, sent him a pair of quality carving knives as a gift, and promised her prayers and friendship for life. Norfolk knew about this correspondence, but it did not trouble him much. He even asked Cromwell if he could provide a home for his unhappy wife, because if she continued with ‘her most false and abominable lies and obstinacy against me’, Norfolk threatened to have her locked up somewhere.40
In June 1537, after years of estrangement, the duchess, the forsaken wife, poured her heart out to Cromwell. Her husband had poorly provided for her, and ‘forgotten now he hath so much wealth and honour, and is so far in doting love with that queen that he neither regards God nor his honour’. His unfaithfulness is known ‘far and near’. Yet he ‘chose me for love’, even though she was twenty years younger, ‘and he hath put me away four years and a quarter this Midsummer’. King Henry himself will witness she has lived like a good woman. Bess Holland was the object of the duchess’s fury: ‘that harlot … but a churl’s daughter and of no gentle blood … that drab Bess Holland … yet he [Norfolk] keeps her still in his house’. She had heard how Cromwell helped Mary in her troubles, and she begged him to do the same for her.41
In vain Cromwell persevered in trying to bring the unhappy couple back together. The duchess vowed never to return to her husband; she would rather be sent to the Tower. To add to her miseries, she apparently lost the sympathy of much of her family, and lamented to Cromwell that no woman ever had ‘so ungracious an eldest son and so ungracious a daughter and so unnatural’.42
The trust the duchess placed in Cromwell may shed light on an unusual letter from Norfolk to Cromwell in June 1537, when Norfolk was at York. Expecting the king and his court to travel north that year, Norfolk invited Cromwell to stay in his house at York; and, he added, ‘if ye lust not to dally with my wife’, he could promise the services of a wench with ‘pretty proper tetins’, m
eaning breasts. This does not prove that Cromwell kept mistresses. All it proves is that Norfolk, besides a bawdy sense of humour, had other mistresses besides Bess Holland, and assumed that other men did likewise. Actually nothing came of it, because Henry did not go north that year. Norfolk bore Cromwell no ill will for listening to his wife with a sympathetic ear, and he carried on sending friendly letters and thanks for kindnesses rendered – nothing to do with wenches or tetins.43
Since 1528 Cromwell had been a widower, and because of his heavy workload he does not seem to have seriously considered marrying again. Occasionally rumours surfaced to the effect that he was hoping or scheming to marry Mary or Lady Margaret Douglas, the king’s niece. It was all unfriendly gossip, with no proven substance to it. His relations with Mary remained cordial, and his accounts indicate that he regularly sent her a New Year present.44 There is probably nothing suspicious or untoward in this, though it is noticeable that the same accounts do not mention New Year gifts to fellow councillors, or to other prominent men and women. It is, however, highly unlikely that he ever imagined he would become her husband. He was now in his fifties, and Mary was only twenty when she made her submission to the king in 1536. Such an age gap would not make a marriage impossible, but Cromwell was pragmatic enough to recognise that in the game of dynastic marriage-making, Mary was far too valuable to Henry to waste on a middle-aged councillor of humble birth, however good a servant he was to the king. The likeliest explanation for Cromwell’s goodwill towards Mary is that he hoped, by personal kindness and considerate behaviour, that he might win her not for himself, but for the Reformation. If this sounds fantastically far-fetched, that is only because we know her subsequent history and reputation as Bloody Mary, the persecutor of Protestants. All this was unknown to Cromwell. So far as he was concerned, Mary was no more a medievalist in religion than he had been a few years ago when he wished that Luther had never been born (here). In the 1530s it was imaginative, not fanciful, to hope that Mary might yet become a huge evangelical prize.
The Rise and Fall of Thomas Cromwell Page 34
