THE FOREIGN POLICY

During the ten years of Cromwell’s ministry, the relations of England with the great continental powers presented a problem fully as difficult as that afforded by the course of events at home. Cromwell’s efforts to cope with the dangers which threatened England from without were far less successful than his internal administration: in the latter he never failed to render invaluable service to the Crown, while in the former he made the mistake which finally lost him the royal favour and brought him to the block. As the results of the minister’s external policy thus led directly to his fall, we may now return to the chronological order of events, which was abandoned while the various phases of his home government were under consideration.

Cromwell had entered the King’s service in 1530 with training and talents which rendered him far more competent to undertake the domestic administration of the country than to guide its foreign affairs. His acquaintance with different trades, his legal ability, and his experience in the suppression of the smaller monasteries for Wolsey’s purposes were of inestimable value to him throughout his ministry in dealing with problems at home. But in the management of affairs abroad he was still very inexperienced. He had borne no part in the great schemes of external policy which had occupied the Cardinal, and though his speech in the Parliament of 1523 showed a very just appreciation of the situation of England abroad, he had had no opportunity to put his ideas into practice. Thus at the outset we find him cautiously remaining in the background and awaiting the development of the King’s foreign policy. In this he was wise, for at Wolsey’s fall Henry had resolved to take the external administration of England into his own hands. We have seen that the Cardinal’s failure had taught him the danger of concluding any definite alliance with either France or Spain, while the two great continental rivals remained at war. He had learned that England’s best security lay in maintaining a position of neutrality between Charles and Francis, and in balancing one against the other, while all disputes between them were encouraged under cover of offers of mediation. It was along these lines that Henry had determined to guide the foreign affairs of England, as soon as order could be brought out of the chaos caused by the divorce. How correct his decision was is proved by the utter collapse of the Imperial alliance of 1543, the only really permanent departure from the policy of neutrality which Henry ever made after the death of Wolsey. A complete change of the political horizon led him into it, only to be left in the lurch by the Emperor at the peace of CrÊpy[538] in the same way that he had been abandoned before by Francis at the treaty of Cambray. But during the life of Cromwell the King made no such blunder as this. Though he sometimes wavered, he never definitely renounced the policy of neutrality, although his minister, who sometimes doubted its efficacy, made several efforts to induce him to abandon it. There can be no doubt that, from the very first, Cromwell over-estimated the danger of a foreign invasion and failed to appreciate the real strength of England’s isolated position: he was deceived by constant menaces which never really bore fruit. A more intimate acquaintance with the practical and calculating nature of Charles V. would certainly have convinced the King’s minister that however much the Emperor threatened, he would never actually embark on the somewhat remote project of a crusade against England, until a great many affairs in his own scattered dominions on the Continent had first been settled to his satisfaction. But Cromwell’s inexperience in the management of foreign affairs blinded him to this important fact: and his over-eagerness to seek means for England’s defence proved his ultimate ruin. After successfully co-operating with Henry for seven years on the basis of maintaining strict neutrality between France and Spain, and of encouraging all disputes between them, he abandoned the wise policy of his master in favour of an alliance in Germany which, in one form or another, had been under consideration on several occasions before, but which had been abandoned every time as unnecessary. This new alliance turned out disastrously. At the moment of its completion, the situation on the Continent which had called it into existence suddenly changed; it was thrown over, together with the minister who had originated it. Such is the outline of the history of England’s foreign affairs from 1530 till Cromwell’s fall. We can now take up the very complicated story in detail.

Although Henry ardently desired at once to put in practice the policy of neutrality which he had learned from Wolsey’s failure, the affair of the divorce had thrown everything into such confusion that an immediate application of the new principle was impossible. In fact it was not until the beginning of the year 1536 that the King was able to assume the position he desired in his relations with France and Spain. The alliance with France which Wolsey had bequeathed to Henry was so close that the King saw that he must at least partially withdraw from it, before he could hope to come to such terms with the Emperor as would enable him to act the part of a neutral and benevolent mediator between the foreign powers. But at this juncture the King’s anxiety to obtain a legal justification for his second marriage was paramount in his mind. In fact it almost seems to have blinded him temporarily to the policy that he doubtless intended ultimately to pursue. His energies were all bent towards securing the aid of Francis in his ‘grete matier’; and for the moment he postponed his policy of conciliating the Emperor, who was of course at that time in league with the Pope. Each pair of allies had interviews and counter-interviews, but with very different results. While Henry and Francis were at first most cordial, Clement counted Charles’ proffered friendship as of slight weight, against the prospect of losing the support of the two most powerful kings of Christendom, and of being forced to submit to the summoning of the General Council by which the Emperor proposed to rectify the abuses which had crept into the Holy Church[539]. The visit at Bologna of Francis’ ambassadors, Cardinals Tournon and Grammont, undid all that Charles’ threats had accomplished[540], and Clement, although he feebly menaced Henry with excommunication in case he proceeded with his second marriage[541], refused to accede to the Emperor’s wishes that he should take more active measures against England. Meantime Henry had endeavoured to come to an understanding with the See of Rome concerning the hearing of his case before a Council, in the hope that by giving the Pope fair words, he might still obtain a favourable decision[542]. The King’s confidence in the ultimate success of his efforts was so high at the opening of the year 1533, that he dared to give it expression by increasingly harsh treatment of Katherine. She was moved further away from the Court than ever before, and hardly a day passed without seeing her subjected to some new indignity. Every effort which her friends made on her behalf seemed unavailing. As petitions to Henry himself were unanswered, Chapuys in despair turned to Cromwell, whom he had by this time recognized as the man who managed all the King’s affairs[543]. But Cromwell succeeded in evading the demands of the Imperial ambassador also; in fact he displayed such ability in ‘beknaving’ Chapuys that Henry always employed him in future to answer the perfectly justifiable complaints of the Spanish representative. Cromwell delayed the interview which the ambassador had requested until he had had time to consult with the King[544]: and when he finally met Chapuys, he spent much time in applauding all the efforts that had been made to maintain friendly relations between Spain and England. But when urged to do his best to protect the Queen and Princess from the ignominies to which they were subjected, Cromwell’s replies were evasive, if not absolutely untruthful. Chapuys was so exasperated at the cool way in which his claims to justice had been set aside, that he took occasion to hint that Charles and Francis might some day join forces against England, to ‘which Cromwell assented, but showed no great joy thereat.’ The threat, however, had no lasting effect. The treatment of the Queen went on from bad to worse, and two months later the same conversation took place all over again, with the same unsatisfactory result[545]. As long as Cromwell consented to obey his master’s commands implicitly, and to devote himself solely to finding means to carry out the plans which the King’s riper experience told him were feasible, without trying to take the lead himself, the two were an almost invincible combination.

But the time was soon to come when Chapuys’ prophecy of a coalition of France and Spain seemed more likely to be fulfilled. Henry’s impatience to conclude his matrimonial troubles finally led him to throw caution to the winds. He had, as we have already seen, postponed the application of his wise policy of neutrality in the hope of obtaining aid from France. But the French King did not move quickly enough to suit him, and in the summer of 1533 he committed such a breach of diplomatic courtesy that he completely alienated his ‘nere and dere brother.’ He had overtaxed his friendship with the King of France by requiring him to support every move he made, and to threaten the Pope, if his Holiness refused to do the same. Francis only partially acceded to Henry’s wishes. Meantime all hope of obtaining the divorce from Rome had been abandoned owing to Cromwell’s advice; the affair was tried in England, and Anne Boleyn was publicly proclaimed Queen. A provisional sentence of excommunication was passed on Henry in July, giving him till September to decide whether he would take Katherine back or not. A few months before, Francis and Henry had together endeavoured to win over the Pope against the Emperor: now that the bull of excommunication had come, Francis continued his good offices by offering to mediate for Henry with the Holy See. Henry, however, blusteringly assured him that he was not in need of any mediation—he hoped that Francis would not trouble himself[546]. But the latter would not take the hint that England’s policy towards the See of Rome had changed from conciliation to open hostility, and invited Clement to meet him at Marseilles, to see if he could not bring about an agreement. The Pope, who needed Francis’ aid in the furtherance of his own plans for the prevention of the dreaded Council, readily accepted the opportunity which had been offered[547]. Henry was of course unable to prevent an interview between the two potentates, but he attempted to throw cold water on the whole affair by sending an embassy to Clement while the latter was the guest of the King of France, to announce to his Holiness that he intended to appeal against his sentence to the very General Council which the Pope was attempting to forestall. The chief result of this extraordinary proceeding was simply to deprive the King of the only ally that he had. Francis was naturally exceedingly angry, and flatly refused to fight Henry’s battles for him any more[548]. Such was the reward reaped from the alliance which Wolsey six years before had been at such pains to bring about, in the hope of obtaining much-needed support in the matter of the divorce[549]!

So far it certainly seemed as if Henry’s foreign policy, instead of gaining him his desired position as neutral and pretended mediator between France and Spain, had only served to alienate both. As his cruel treatment of Katherine and Mary had not improved his position with Charles, he had to cast about for other allies to counterbalance the effect of his tiff with Francis. It is at this juncture that Cromwell first steps into prominence in connexion with foreign affairs. There can be little doubt that the negotiations with the Lutheran princes, which began in July, 1533, were planned by him. It is of course natural to look to the man, whose name six years later became inseparably associated with a German alliance, as the originator of the scheme; in addition to this there is documentary evidence. A letter which Chapuys wrote to the Emperor, July 30, 1533, informs us that two of Cromwell’s men (one of whom later turned out to be his trusty Stephen Vaughan) had been sent to Germany presumably ‘to embroil’ all they could[550]; and on August 3, a letter reporting the progress of the ambassadors was written by them to Cromwell from Antwerp[551]. Vaughan and his companion, a certain Christopher Mont, arrived in NÜrnberg on the 22nd, whence they sent home minute accounts of the state of religion in Germany; the one observing, with apparent regret, that the country was not nearly as disturbed as had been thought, while the other assured Cromwell that he had never seen a land whose towns were so much divided[552]. Some time in the autumn Cromwell sent a reply to Mont, praising his diligence, and urging him above all things to discover the state of feeling in Germany towards the King of England and the Emperor[553]. The envoy appears to have returned from his preliminary tour of investigation before the close of the year, for in January, 1534, he was sent back again to Germany, this time accompanied by Nicholas Heath, with instructions to convey to the Lutheran princes the sympathy of the King of England, as being also an enemy of the Pope, and to express his willingness to unite with them for the extirpation of false doctrines[554]. England’s overtures, however, were not received with as much enthusiasm as Henry perhaps had expected, and nothing definite resulted from the mission of Heath and Mont for a long time. The Germans probably had serious misgivings about the genuineness of Henry’s Protestantism, and their suspicions of his sincerity were confirmed by a new development of England’s foreign policy in the same year.

As one of the consequences of an unwarrantable act of piracy near the English coast in the autumn of 1533, Henry had been able to get hold of a prominent young man of the violently Protestant town of LÜbeck, by name Mark Meyer. At London he was treated with the greatest courtesy by the King and Cromwell, and returned to his native city invested with the honour of knighthood[555]. Such bounty was seldom showered on anybody by Henry VIII. without some ulterior purpose, and Meyer’s case was no exception to the general rule. It soon transpired that proposals had been made for a close alliance between England and LÜbeck[556]. Ever since the peace of Stralsund in 1370, the cities of the Hanseatic League had claimed a decisive voice in the affairs of the neighbouring realm of Denmark[557]: the death of the king of that country in April, 1533, had left the throne vacant, and LÜbeck was at this moment bent on obtaining the disposal of it. Henry signified his willingness to aid the LÜbeckers in this enterprise, on condition that they would promise that if they were successful they would be guided by him in the final bestowal of the Danish crown. In May, 1534, the LÜbeckers sent an embassy to England[558], and the proposals of the previous year were accepted.

The new alliance had a very important bearing on the larger issues of Henry’s foreign policy. The social and political revolution which had been in progress in LÜbeck since 1530 had placed the power in the hands of a party whose anti-papal tendencies were fully as violent as those of the Wittenberg theologians, and whose conscientious scruples were of less weight, when thrown into the scales of political expediency[559]. The treaty concluded with England contained certain doctrinal statements which lay suspiciously close to the needs of Henry’s immediate position[560], and the King must have been at least temporarily convinced that he had obtained a valuable ally against the See of Rome. The treaty with LÜbeck was also a very distinct move against the Emperor, for an Imperial candidate had been proposed for the vacant throne of Denmark, and by supporting the LÜbeckers Henry necessarily opposed Charles. But the new alliance failed to accomplish what was expected of it: in fact it actually worked to England’s disadvantage. Before its conclusion, George Wullenwever, the demagogue whom the recent upheaval had rendered temporarily supreme in LÜbeck, had offered to support the claims of the Lutheran Duke of Holstein to the Danish throne; but when Holstein, unwilling to gain his ends by force, prudently refused the proffered aid, the friendship of the LÜbeckers was converted into bitter enmity. They soon invaded his lands, but were repulsed and besieged in turn in their own city: a peace of a most extraordinary nature finally resulted, by which an agreement was reached in regard to the affairs of Holstein, though both parties reserved the right of continuing the war for the disposal of the crown of Denmark. That country in the meantime, seeing that its sole chance of safety lay in obtaining a strong and capable leader, elected the Duke of Holstein to the vacant throne, under the title of Christian III.—a severe blow to the pretensions of the LÜbeckers, who were now robbed of their best excuse for interference in Danish affairs, namely their professed desire to introduce pure religion there[561]. LÜbeck, however, had now gone too far to draw back, and prepared to attack the new King in connexion with England. Henry must have been much annoyed at the complication into which his new alliance had led him—it seemed doubly foolish, in view of his attempts to conciliate the German Protestants, that he should get himself entangled with the enemies of those whom he wished to make his friends. But though the King was advised by Dr. Barnes, the English ambassador at Hamburg, to drop LÜbeck and conciliate Christian[562], he was as usual too proud to acknowledge that he had made a mistake. He soon reaped the reward of his obstinacy, as the LÜbeckers, in their new attempt to overthrow Christian, were again completely defeated. Henry had aided them with the services of two skilled engineers, and the Danish King sent an embassy to demand an explanation of his conduct[563]. Christian’s envoy was treated with scant courtesy by the King and Cromwell, the latter vainly attempting to conceal his master’s anxiety by several preposterous lies[564]. But still the King was unwilling to consent to a complete reversal of his LÜbeck policy, and finally sent the ambassador home with an answer which Chapuys characterizes as ‘obscure and ambiguous.’ Several subsequent victories of Christian, in which certain English ships which had been sent to aid the LÜbeckers were captured, were sufficient however to convince Henry that he had unduly despised the power of the new Danish King; and though his relations with LÜbeck continued to be friendly, he carefully abstained from any further active measures on her behalf. But he had already done enough at least temporarily to alienate his Lutheran friends, who were shocked at the way in which the King of England attached himself to people whose religious principles were as extreme as those of the LÜbeckers, and who had dared to attack one of their own number.

Thus each of the two alliances with which Henry had sought to fortify himself against France and Spain had rendered the other worthless. The King probably bitterly regretted that his matrimonial difficulties had led him to stray so far from the policy which he originally intended to pursue. Had he been able to secure his desired position as neutral and pretended mediator between France and Spain, he could have relied on this eminently advantageous situation alone to secure safety for England abroad, without troubling himself about any outside alliance. But to attain this position was impossible, as we have seen, until he became reconciled to Charles, and reconciliation with Charles was out of the question as long as Katherine remained subjected to such indignity. Here lay the key to the whole situation. The treatment of the divorced Queen was the sole hindrance to a cordial relation between Spain and England, and consequently to the final application of the policy which Henry so ardently desired. But there could be no hope of an alleviation of her sufferings, for the King and Cromwell were by this time irrevocably committed to a brutal attitude towards Katherine and her daughter by the course of events since the first trial of the divorce. The inference was obvious. As long as Katherine lived, a reconciliation with Charles, with all its attendant benefits, was impossible: her death alone could pave the way for it. That these thoughts had already taken shape at least in Cromwell’s mind is proved by a hint which the King’s minister dropped in Chapuys’ presence in August, 1534, to the effect that the death of the Queen and Princess would remove all occasion for a quarrel between their masters[565].

But the autumn of 1534 saw several events which served to encourage the King and his minister, and seemed temporarily to postpone the necessity of coming to terms with the Emperor. The first of these events was the death of the Pope in September, an occurrence which, according to Chapuys, caused Henry and Cromwell such joy that the latter was ‘unable to refrain from saying several times in public that this great devil was dead, and it seemed as if he was very sorry that he could find no worse name for him than devil[566].’ Francis moreover, solely on account of his very strained relations with Charles, had slowly begun to recover from the effects of Henry’s discourtesy at Marseilles, and had made fresh efforts to come to terms with England again; while Henry, unwilling as yet to proceed to extremities in order to gain the friendship of Charles, welcomed the prospect of a renewal of amity with France. But the satisfaction which the King derived from the attitude of Francis was rudely dispelled in a few months. Several interviews which had been arranged between the two sovereigns had failed, for various reasons, to take place, but the Emperor meantime had not been idle. Imbued with the idea of vindicating the rights of the Princess Mary by some decisive stroke, he had actually sent the Count of Nassau to the French Court to suggest that Francis should ask Henry to give her to the Duke of AngoulÊme[567]. Francis considered the Emperor’s plan worth a trial, and in October sent over an embassy under Admiral de Brion to propose it to the King of England. Henry had little idea of the unpleasant surprise that was in store for him, and made great preparations for the reception of the Frenchmen, and Cromwell sent for a number of beautiful young ladies to come to the Court to entertain them[568]. There seems to be some doubt whether de Brion first proposed that Mary should be given to the Duke of AngoulÊme or to the Dauphin[569], but both suggestions were equally disagreeable to Henry. An acceptance of either proposal would of course involve retracting his declaration that Mary was illegitimate, and annulling his hard-earned invalidation of his first marriage, and yet he dared not insult Francis a second time. His first reply, according to Chapuys, was that he would agree to give Mary to AngoulÊme if both would make a solemn renunciation of all claims that they could bring forward to the English throne[570]. But the Spanish ambassador seemed to think that this proposal would not prove satisfactory, and we gather from the official report of Henry’s answer that the suggestion was dropped. Instead, however, the King finally replied that if Francis could obtain from the new Pope a decision that the sentence of Clement was void, he might be induced to renounce his claim to the French throne in exchange for certain lands and titles in the Netherlands, and further hinted that it might be possible to arrange a match between Elizabeth and the Duke of AngoulÊme[571]. But this proposal amounted to little more than a diplomatic refusal of Francis’ request. De Brion went away disappointed, and forgetting his usual caution, and the fact that England was still in a stronger position than France, determined to avenge himself for the failure of his mission by parading before the eyes of Cromwell and his master the probability of the dreaded alliance of France and Spain, in much the same way that Chapuys had done in the previous year. When Cromwell appeared in the great hall to make the farewell present, the Admiral disengaged himself from the crowd, and came to the Imperial ambassador with the greatest civility, expressing his regret at not having seen the Princess Mary, ‘the principal gem of the kingdom,’ and finally declaring that if he and Chapuys could only bring their masters to accord, all would go well[572].

In spite of Cromwell’s boasting, we may well believe that de Brion had succeeded in making Henry feel very uncomfortable. The inferences which the King must have drawn from the conduct of the ambassador at his departure were further confirmed by the ominous silence from France which followed the Admiral’s return. But Francis himself was in too precarious a position to afford to throw away any chances, so after a couple of months’ delay, he pocketed his pride and sent over another embassy under Palamedes Gontier, Treasurer of Brittany, to continue negotiations on the basis of a marriage between Elizabeth and the Duke of AngoulÊme. Henry was all the more annoyed that Francis should take him at his word, and entertain seriously the somewhat chimerical proposal with which he had dismissed de Brion; and the mission of Gontier failed as signally as its predecessor had done, in coming to any definite conclusion[573]. But Henry had chosen a very poor moment to administer this final rebuff; for the Emperor had departed on an expedition against Tunis, and thus left Francis a comparatively free hand on the Continent. The advantage of position had hitherto lain with England, but the absence of Charles totally altered the aspect of affairs. The French King felt himself once more master of the situation, and was not slow to inform Henry that he did not propose to be dallied with any longer. The reconquest of Milan was at this moment his heart’s desire; to accomplish it he needed English aid. So he commissioned the Bailly of Troyes to convey to Henry a Papal brief which had been sent to the French Court, and which required all Christian princes to cease to hold intercourse with the heretical King of England; he further instructed his ambassador to make it clear that the sole consideration which would induce the King of France to disregard the brief, would be a liberal contribution of English gold, whenever he saw fit to make war on the Emperor. This announcement, which was practically an ultimatum, took Henry completely by surprise: angry words passed between him and the French envoy, but there was no use disguising the fact that Francis had the upper hand[574]. The King finally sent Gardiner to Paris to answer the French claims; the instructions which the ambassador received reveal a much more conciliatory attitude than Henry had yet adopted towards France[575]. The gravity of the situation was further confirmed by the seizure and detention at Bordeaux of several English ships, for the recovery of which Cromwell kept writing urgent letters to the Bishop of Winchester[576]. It was at this juncture that the King and his minister made a feeble effort to reap some reward from the mission of Heath and Mont to the Lutherans in the preceding year. Attempts were made to bring the reformer Melancthon to England, or at least to prevent his going to Francis, who had sent for him in order to obtain the support of his followers against Charles[577]. The latter effort was superfluous; the former failed. Melancthon had no intention of going to France, but the King and Cromwell could not persuade him to come to England either. Henry’s agent, Dr. Barnes, however, informed the Lutherans that the King would not refuse to join in an alliance with them for the defence of the Gospel, provided they would support him against the Pope, and he promised them that another ambassador, the Bishop of Hereford, would come and talk further with them[578]. At the close of the year the envoy was received in Germany. Long negotiations followed, at first with some hope of success. A request by the English ambassador that the Germans would unite with his master in a refusal to recognize a General Council convoked by the Pope, was favourably received; and the plenipotentiaries of the Lutherans drew up a response in which they expressed themselves as entirely in accord with Henry in regard to the See of Rome, and offered the King of England the proud title of Defender and Protector of their league. As long as the Bishop of Hereford restricted himself to theological discussion and abuse of the Pope all went well, but when he made the more practical demand for aid to his master in money and ships in case of an invasion, the Germans drew back: they were not prepared to go as far as this until a more complete agreement had been reached in matters of religion. Trouble arose also over the question of the King’s divorce: the Lutherans acknowledged that marriage with a brother’s widow was wrong, but they refused to admit, if such a union had taken place, that it was right to break it[579]. The news of the executions of More and Fisher, moreover, had caused great consternation in Germany, where every effort was being made to introduce the new doctrines without bloodshed; and the Bishop of Hereford was finally sent away empty-handed, the negotiations having resulted in a failure which plainly foreshadowed the events of 1538 and 1539. Taken as a whole, the year 1535 had simply been occupied in playing over again the game of 1534. Twice had the French alliance been tested, and it had failed. Twice had Henry and Cromwell sought security in a league with the Lutherans—without success. Two proofs had been afforded that a reconciliation with Charles was the surest road to England’s safety; and this time the alternative of a closer alliance with France, which, in 1534, had offered the King and his minister a temporary escape from an ultimately inevitable conclusion, was out of the question. But a reconciliation with the Emperor, as we have already seen, was impossible during the lifetime of Katherine.

Under these circumstances then, we can scarcely wonder that the Imperial ambassador reported to his master that the death of the Queen, which occurred on January 7, 1536, was due to foul play[580]. Chapuys also possessed other evidence, which tended to strengthen him in this conclusion. He had not forgotten the sinister hint which Cromwell had let fall in his presence in August, 1534; and he had apparently discovered that in November, 1535, the King had plainly told his most trusted counsellors that he must be rid of the Queen and Princess at the next Parliament[581]. Nor did Henry’s unseemly conduct when he received the news of the death of his first wife escape the notice of the Imperial ambassador. Chapuys wrote to Charles how the King clothed himself in yellow from head to foot, and spent the day in mirth and revelry. ‘God be praised,’ had Henry exclaimed, ‘that we are free from all suspicion of war[582].’ The ambassador also dwelt at length on the suspicious secrecy and almost indecent haste with which the body of the Queen was opened, embalmed, and enclosed in lead; on the very significant testimony extracted from the chandler of the house who did the work, and on the statements of the doctor and of the Queen’s confessor. The verdict of the best modern medical authorities on the post-mortem examination as reported by the chandler strongly favours the conclusion that Katherine was not poisoned[583], but died of a disease called melanotic sarcoma, or, more popularly, cancer of the heart: the testimony of a sixteenth-century artisan, however, is but a poor basis for a modern scientific investigation. If the Queen was murdered, there is every reason to think that Cromwell was chiefly responsible for the crime. To a man of his character and training such a step would have been far less repugnant than to Henry, had he once assured himself that it was indispensable to his purposes. He had had sufficient experience of the Italy of Alexander VI. and Caesar Borgia to render him quite callous to the ordinary sentiments of humanity in such matters. He had never fully realized the innate strength of England’s isolated position; he was always alarmed by the danger of foreign invasion far more than his master, and consequently was more ready to adopt desperate measures to avert it. It does not seem likely that the more experienced Henry would have originated the plan of murdering his wife, until the crisis in foreign affairs had become far more acute. Though he fully comprehended the many advantages of a closer alliance with Charles, he must have been reasonably certain that he had little cause to fear a direct attack in the immediate future, especially as the death of the Duke of Milan in the end of October had opened glorious possibilities for a renewal of the quarrel between Francis and Charles. Of course it is mere folly to suppose that Cromwell would have attempted to murder the Queen without the King’s full consent. It is more than probable however that—if poison it was—it was he who put the idea into Henry’s mind, and took the responsibility for its execution upon himself.

In any event the death of Katherine, whether due to natural causes or ‘advancÉ sinistrement’ as Chapuys expressed it, was the means by which Henry was at last enabled to attain the position in foreign affairs that he had aimed at since the fall of Wolsey, and to put in practice a policy which, combined with a fortunate turn of events abroad, was destined, for two years, to lead to the most glorious results. It removed the chief cause of jealousy between England and the Emperor[584], and enabled Henry to point out to Francis, who as we have seen had of late been taking a very haughty tone with him, that the situation of the two countries had again been reversed, and that France was no longer in a position to dictate. This task Cromwell performed for him three days after the Queen’s death, with his usual directness and efficiency. The King’s minister wrote to Gardiner and Wallop on January 8, indicating that the death of Katherine had removed ‘the onelie matier of the vnkyndenes’ between his master and the Emperor, and instructing the ambassadors in their ‘conferences and procedynges with the frensh kyng and his counsaile’ to keep themselves ‘the more aloof and be the more Froyt and colde in relentyng to any their ouertures or requestes[585].’ A comparison of this letter with one which Cromwell had written to the Bishop of Winchester two months earlier[586] reveals a very striking change of tone, which nothing else than the death of Katherine could have rendered possible.

The King’s secretary was no less prompt in pointing out to the Imperial ambassador the bearing of the decease of the divorced Queen on England’s relations with Spain. He was not ashamed to remark to one of Chapuys’ men that the Emperor had the greatest cause to be thankful for the death of Katherine, which in his judgement was the very best thing that could have happened for the preservation of the amity between Henry and Charles, as it completely removed the sole cause of jealousy between them[587]. The Emperor was too hard-headed a politician not to see the force of Cromwell’s words. We cannot doubt that he was exceedingly angry at the death of his aunt, which he certainly believed was due to foul play; but his situation was such that revenge was impossible, and with characteristic calmness and self-control he determined to conceal his resentment and conciliate Henry. It was doubtless with his full sanction that Chapuys welcomed all Cromwell’s proposals, which looked towards a more cordial relation between England and Spain. Meantime Francis had not been slow to take the hint which Gardiner, at Cromwell’s command, had given him, and was again using every effort to regain Henry’s favour. The breach between the two continental sovereigns was, to the King’s intense joy, becoming wider every day, with the result that each was making frantic attempts to outbid the other for England’s friendship. Henry’s position was for the moment almost ideal. All he needed to do was to keep the two rivals just evenly balanced. But precisely at this critical juncture, Cromwell for the first time in his ministry made a move without the King’s leave, which, had it not been instantly forestalled, would have completely upset the beautiful equilibrium which Henry had laboured so hard to establish. The King had doubtless ordered him to be cordial to Chapuys, in order to counterbalance the effects of the warmth of Francis; but he had not the least idea of entering into any definite agreement, which might lose him his precious position of neutrality. But Cromwell did not see this. He exceeded his instructions, was voluble in his disparagement of the French in Chapuys’ presence, and finally brought matters to such a point that he went with Chapuys to the King to propose an Imperial alliance[588]. It was the most open avowal he had yet made of a leaning towards Spain, that he had doubtless cherished for a long time. Born among the common people, Cromwell’s early life had been spent in that atmosphere of bitter hatred of France, which for generations had been one of the most predominant characteristics of the lower classes in England. In the first half of the sixteenth century, hatred of France meant friendship with Spain, and from the first years of the reign of Henry VIII. one encounters at every turn evidences of the devotion of the common people to the Imperial cause. Wolsey’s policy of peace with France had won him almost as many enemies among the lower classes as his reputation as originator of oppressive financial measures. Cromwell had determined not to make the same mistake that his predecessor had, but he was foolish enough to err on the opposite side. During the year 1535 he had given hints that he was no friend of France[589]. His rudeness to the French ambassadors on more than one occasion had convinced Chapuys that he favoured the Emperor, but as yet he had not gone far enough to bring himself into collision with the King. But this time he had forgotten his previous caution, and his rashness resulted in his first serious quarrel with his master. Henry may well have been furious that his minister’s recklessness had threatened to destroy the whole fabric of a policy which he had been at such pains to put in operation. The Imperial ambassador gives us an amusing account of a scene which ensued in the Privy Chamber when he came with Cromwell to propose an alliance between England and Spain. After Chapuys had propounded the terms of a possible treaty, Henry called Cromwell and Audeley to him and retired to another part of the room. ‘They talked together,’ writes Chapuys, who kept a vigilant eye upon the gestures of the King and those with him. ‘There seemed to be some dispute and considerable anger, as I thought, between the King and Cromwell; and after a considerable time Cromwell grumbling left the conference in the window where the King was, excusing himself that he was so very thirsty that he was quite exhausted, as he really was with pure vexation, and sat down upon a coffer out of sight of the King, where he sent for something to drink.’ Henry soon came to Chapuys, and after being as rude as possible, reproaching the Emperor with past ingratitude, and asserting that Milan rightfully belonged to the French, waived the point at issue entirely, and was with difficulty persuaded to look over the treaties at a later time. ‘At this slender and provoking answer,’ writes Chapuys, ‘I left the Court, and went to wait on Cromwell,’ whose regret was so great ‘that he was hardly able to speak for sorrow, and had never been more mortified in his life, than with the said reply[590].’