THE FALL OF THOMAS CROMWELL

While Henry and Cromwell had been occupied in negotiations with various German princes, the Emperor and the French King had not been idle. Every day seemed to bring some fresh confirmation of the unwelcome news that the two monarchs were again on the most friendly terms. By the middle of December the anxiety of England reached the highest pitch, for the report came that Francis and Charles had actually met at Loches, and that their first interview had been marked by every demonstration of cordiality[677]. The French King accompanied the Emperor on his journey northward, and on New Year’s Day they entered Paris together amid great rejoicing. For eight days the Louvre saw a succession of balls, fÊtes, and jousts. It is said that Jean Cousin was ordered to make a bust of the Emperor[678].

But if the meeting of Charles and Francis and their apparently perfect amity were the cause of profound alarm in England, the proximity of the two rivals furnished at the same time an admirable opportunity for a last attempt to stir up jealousy between them. The King, who as we have seen had never even in his most anxious moments abandoned the hope of fomenting discord between the two sovereigns, was not the man to permit this chance to escape him. Sir Thomas Wyatt, who had been recalled from Spain a short time before, was now sent back to Paris to co-operate with Bonner, the ambassador to France, in the endeavour to make use of the situation for Henry’s purposes[679]. His instructions to express the King’s joy at the prospect of a renewal of amity between Francis and Charles were of course merely a blind to cover his real intentions. It was not long before the character of the latter was made plainly evident. Wyatt wrote a full account of his proceedings to Henry on January 7, 1540[680]. In his letter he did not say whether he paid any attention to the written instructions which the King had previously given him or not, but reported his endeavours to obtain the arrest of one Brancetour, an Englishman in the Emperor’s train, whom the Act of Attainder of 1539 had condemned. From Wyatt’s account, however, it appears that the actual taking of Brancetour was a matter of secondary importance, compared to the possibility it opened of stirring up a quarrel between Francis and Charles. The two ambassadors had waited upon the French King, and had readily obtained his consent to the arrest. Brancetour was taken, but insisted that he acknowledged no master except the Emperor, and was consequently not amenable to English law. He applied to Charles, who of course refused to give his servant up; the matter was again brought before the French King, who, being far more anxious to secure the good will of the Emperor than that of Henry, gave orders for the prisoner’s release. At first it seemed as if the efforts of the two ambassadors had merely resulted in drawing Charles and Francis closer together. Chagrined at the failure of his efforts, Bonner had made matters worse by rudely remonstrating with the French King for permitting Brancetour to be restored to liberty. The chief result of this proceeding was that the English ambassador became so generally hated at the French Court on account of his bluntness and discourtesy, that Henry felt obliged to recall him in favour of Sir John Wallop[681].

With the ground cleared by the retirement of his unpopular colleague, Sir Thomas Wyatt was able to display to far greater advantage that wealth of tact and diplomatic talent, which had rendered him such an invaluable servant to Henry at the Emperor’s Court. He immediately saw that it was useless to blame Francis, as Bonner had done, for an act which the situation had forced upon him, and he forbore to mention the affair of Brancetour again in the presence of the French King. Instead he addressed himself to Charles, and in the most careful and guarded phrases insinuated that the Emperor had shown ingratitude to Henry, in obtaining the Englishman’s release[682]. Wyatt’s action throughout was characterized by an external courtesy quite as remarkable as the previous rudeness of Bonner, and his efforts were finally rewarded in a manner which exceeded the King’s highest expectations. He had caught the Emperor off his guard, and the first result of his representations was to cause the usually imperturbable Charles completely to lose his temper. The Emperor in his vexation let several words escape him, of which Wyatt was prompt to take advantage. When reproached with ingratitude, Charles had turned sharply on the ambassador with a few angry words, which implied that it was impossible for him to be ‘ingrate’ to Henry, on account of the superiority of his own Imperial rank. The Emperor confessed that ‘the inferyour’ might be ‘ingrate to the greter,’ though the term was ‘skant sufferable bytwene lyke[683],’ but hinted that an accusation of ingratitude from the petty King of England against himself, the acknowledged head of Christendom, was entirely out of place. All this was reported at the English Court in early February. The use which Henry made of the information is remarkable. As a result of Wyatt’s communications, the Duke of Norfolk was sent with a special message to Francis[684]. He was ordered to quote all the conversation between Charles and Wyatt, but so to distort the meaning of the Emperor’s angry words as to make it appear that Charles was using Francis’ friendship merely as a stepping-stone to an ulterior purpose, and perhaps to a plan for the domination of Europe. Charles’ unfortunate slip about superiors and inferiors lent itself well to such an interpretation. On February 15 the Duke arrived at the French Court, of which Charles had already taken leave, and was immediately received by Francis[685]. From Norfolk’s own report it is evident that he had at last succeeded in creating serious distrust of the Emperor in the mind of the French King, and he reported to Henry that by Francis’ countenance he ‘dyd conjecte He was not content with thEmperours wordes[686].’

Of course the intrigues of Norfolk and Wyatt were only one of a number of things which contributed to cause the quarrel between Charles and Francis to break out afresh. The ground had been pretty well prepared for it by a series of petty but annoying occurrences, which had taken place during the Emperor’s visit[687], and the efforts of the English ambassadors were substantially aided by Charles’ flat refusal to fulfil his promises to Francis about the Low Countries and Milan, after the subjugation of the revolt in Ghent had once more left him a free hand. But the part which England played in accelerating the rupture was in itself by no means inconsiderable, and it is of the most vital importance for our purposes here, to notice that the name of Cromwell scarcely appears once in connexion with it. It is true that after Norfolk had succeeded in driving in the first wedge which started the breach between Charles and Francis, the King’s minister wrote two letters to Wallop[688], directing him to follow up the advantage already gained, but they were evidently dictated by Henry, and seem to have been a necessity forced upon Cromwell by the action of his rival. The fact was that Cromwell’s identification with the German alliance had cut him off from bearing a hand in any other part of the foreign policy, and that his place as a negotiator with France and Spain had been usurped by his bitterest enemy, the Duke of Norfolk. The latter’s success at the French Court had proved that the policy to which the King had always pinned his faith, in opposition to Cromwell’s advocacy of an outside alliance, had not lost all its efficacy, and the rapidly widening breach between Charles and Francis showed that the league with Cleves was not indispensable for England’s safety. More than this, it now looked as if the treaty with Duke William, far from being an advantage, would become a positive burden. Cromwell had sought the alliance in the hope of gaining valuable aid in case England was attacked: it had not occurred to him that some day the positions might be reversed, and that England might be expected to give aid, rather than to receive it. The fact that Charles, instead of planning an invasion of England with Francis, had gone straight from Paris to the Low Countries[689] and did not disguise his intention of regaining Gelderland, rendered this disagreeable turn of affairs distinctly probable. Worst of all, the King’s disgust for Anne of Cleves had increased so rapidly, that it was useless to attempt to conceal it. Henry might pardon a political blunder alone, but when combined with a matrimonial misfortune, it was more difficult to forgive. Everything seemed to unite to call for a reversal of the Cromwellian policy. The King’s minister had abandoned as hopeless a scheme which his rival had been able to show was still feasible; he had sought a cure before he was certain that prevention was impossible: the cure he had prescribed, besides being unnecessary, had actually proved dangerous, and lastly, the matrimonial alliance which formed the basis of it had turned out a complete failure.

It was certainly the most favourable opportunity that had yet presented itself for Cromwell’s enemies to compass his ruin, and Norfolk and Gardiner, the most inveterate of his foes, were not slow to realize it. The latter, ever since his recall from France in 1538, had used every effort to undermine the influence of the man who had stepped into the place which he had coveted for himself at Wolsey’s fall. In alliance with Norfolk, who returned from his errand to the French King in March, 1540, he now succeeded in gathering to himself all the influential persons at the English Court who desired the downfall of their plebeian rival. It did not take very long to discover that Henry was ready to abandon Cromwell, and as soon as his enemies were certain of this fact, they saw that all that was necessary for the accomplishment of their designs was to devise a pretext for the minister’s destruction, more plausible than an accusation of advocating a useless alliance and an unfortunate marriage. So faithfully had Cromwell served the King’s interests, however, that at first it seemed almost impossible to find such a pretext, but the astute Gardiner was soon able to discover the one weak spot in his rival’s armour. It is hardly necessary to state what this was. The only occasions on which Henry and Cromwell had been brought into collision were disputes over questions of foreign policy, and the Bishop of Winchester saw that the minister’s reputation as advocate of an alliance with the Lutherans in opposition to the King’s wishes, furnished the basis for a charge of supporting their religious principles in defiance of the doctrines proclaimed in the Six Articles. No accusation against Cromwell could have been more unjust than this. We have seen that the minister himself had abandoned the Lutherans by this time; moreover even in the days when he had urged an alliance with them, he had never made the least concession to their religious tendencies. We call to mind at once the significant words that he had spoken to Baumbach in the previous January, when he had declared that his theological beliefs were identical with those of the King. Cromwell’s religion had always been dictated by political expediency; he certainly had no sympathy for Protestant theology in itself, or indeed for theology of any kind which did not lead to practical results. But unfortunately the mass of the people were totally unable to see this fact, and he was commonly looked upon as the greatest friend and helper that the Protestants had. As opposition to the Pope had given him his political greatness, the Reformers had flocked to him for protection when the Six Articles were passed, and their trust in him was further strengthened by the inferences which they drew from his foreign policy. The Bishop of Winchester was perfectly well aware of the actual state of affairs, and also of the gross misconception of Cromwell’s true theological position which existed in the minds of the people. If he could only catch his rival in some definite act which would justify a distinct accusation of opposing the King in matters of religion, he saw that the ground was already well prepared for the success of his plot. The opportunity which he sought was soon to present itself.

It will be remembered that in the early part of the year 1539 Henry had sent Dr. Barnes to Germany to conciliate the King of Denmark and the Elector of Saxony. At the news of the passage of the Six Articles, which of course stultified all his efforts, Barnes had come back to England, profoundly disgusted at the King’s vacillating policy. Henry felt so certain of his ground at the time of his ambassador’s return, that in spite of the requests of Cromwell, he contemptuously refused to grant him a hearing[690]. The King’s minister was either unable or unwilling to take the hint, which his master had given him, that Barnes was no longer in favour, and he was rash enough to attempt to console the envoy for the ill-success of his mission, by promoting him to the prebend of Lanbedye[691]. Cromwell had thus played into his enemy’s hand by an action which lent itself to the precise interpretation which Gardiner was seeking. It was now an easy matter to hold the minister responsible for any rash act which his protÉgÉ might commit, and Barnes, who was one of the very extreme Lutherans, did not take long to fulfil the hopes which the Bishop of Winchester had entertained of his recklessness. He was foolish enough to take violent exception to a sermon which Gardiner had preached at Paul’s Cross, in which the latter had denounced certain Protestant doctrines. Preaching in the same pulpit two weeks later on the same text, Barnes denied all that Gardiner had said, insulted him openly, and finally threw down his glove to the people, as a defiance against the Bishop[692]. Barnes had doubtless presumed on Cromwell’s protection to support him in this tirade, for it seems that the year before, when his position had been much stronger, the King’s minister had successfully defended his friend against a charge of heresy by Gardiner, and had actually been able to remove the latter from the Privy Council in revenge for his attack on the Lutheran[693]. But this time Barnes had gone too far, and Cromwell, whose influence was by no means what it had been, was unable to save him again. The Bishop of Winchester complained to the King, who was scandalized, and ordered Barnes to be examined before him; the Lutheran was utterly worsted in a theological discussion; he was forced to recant and beg Gardiner’s pardon. This he did with such ill grace and so many contradictions that he was arrested and placed in the Tower with the others who had supported him.

All this happened in the last week of March. It was perfectly obvious to those who had any real knowledge of the trend things were taking, that Gardiner had made his complaint far more with the idea of harming Cromwell, than of injuring Barnes himself, and the fact that the minister had not been able to rescue his friend a second time led many to predict his speedy downfall[694]. But Cromwell managed to stave off the ultimately inevitable catastrophe for two months more, and to maintain his ascendancy until the end of May. He certainly had no delusions as to the gravity of the situation in which he found himself, and he fully realized that his best chance of safety lay in making a humble acknowledgement of his error in favouring the Lutheran preacher. Though there is no actual record that he apologized to the Bishop of Winchester, there is every internal evidence of it. That at least a temporary reconciliation took place between him and Gardiner is proved by a letter of Sir John Wallop which informs us that on March 30 the Bishop of Winchester dined at London with the Lord Privy Seal, and that they ‘were more than iiij houres and opened theyre hartes and so concluded that and therbe truthe or honesty in them not only all displeasures be forgotton, but also in thayre hertes be now perfight intier frendes[695].’ It would have been hardly possible to bring about even a temporary truce between these two men without an apology on one side or the other, and it is not likely that Gardiner, backed as he was by the King, would have been the one to make it. In order to maintain his very precarious position, Cromwell had been forced to grovel before a man, whom two years before he could have ordered about to his heart’s content.

But it had been one of the greatest secrets of Cromwell’s success that he had never been too proud to take any step, however humiliating, which he deemed necessary for his profit or safety. Nevertheless it is doubtful if his apology to the Bishop of Winchester, unaided by any outside occurrence, would have been sufficient to prevent his immediate overthrow. The month of April, however, saw two events, one at home and the other abroad, which further raised his hopes and encouraged him to renewed efforts to regain his influence. The first of these was the assemblage of Parliament, an occasion on which Cromwell had always been able to make himself particularly useful to the King. He was not slow to realize the opportunity that was offered him, and he laboured with all his might for the passage of the measures which he knew his master desired. He made an opening speech in the House of Lords, in which he said that the King wished concord above all things and desired to suppress all dissension concerning religious doctrines: and he emphasized his words by providing for the appointment of a commission to correct all abuses and enforce respect for the Scriptures[696]. What was accomplished in this direct endeavour to extirpate heresy is less important than a move of a more practical nature, which bears every evidence of being planned by Cromwell. The ancient military and religious order of the Knights of St. John of Jerusalem was the sole remaining stronghold of monasticism in England that had been suffered to escape the onslaught of the King’s minister. To complete the work of destruction which he had begun their downfall was essential, and an Act to abolish them and confiscate their property finally passed both Houses after a prolonged debate[697]. A complicated Taxation Bill, which was carried through at the same time, seemed also to bear the stamp of Cromwellian genius. Such services to the Crown had not been suffered to go unrewarded, for on April 18 those who had prophesied the ruin of the King’s minister were amazed by his being created Earl of Essex and Great Chamberlain of England[698]. The French ambassador, who only seven days before had reported to Francis that Cromwell was tottering to his fall, now confessed that the new-made Earl ‘was in as much credit with the King as ever he was, from which he was near being shaken by the Bishop of Winchester and others.’

The other event which gave Cromwell a momentary ray of hope was the arrival of a piece of news from France, which at first looked like a vindication of his foreign policy as against that of the King. Early in April it was rumoured in London that the French were fortifying Ardres, and the King’s minister wrote a letter to Wallop on the twelfth instructing him to demand an explanation from Francis[699], who (according to the ambassador’s report) replied that ‘He knewe not but that He myght aswell buyld there or fortefye uppon his borders as the Kinges Highnes dothe at Callais, Guysnes, and other his fortresses[700].’ These words, though spoken ‘very gently and nothing in collour,’ appear to have caused profound anxiety at the English Court, and Henry’s faith in the success of his plans of fomenting discord between Charles and Francis received a rude shock. Everything which tended to justify the alliance with Cleves as a defensive measure was of course welcome news to Cromwell, who privately must have been as much encouraged by the messages from France as others were dismayed by them. But the satisfaction which he derived from the report of the fortifications at Ardres was only of short duration. There were no further hostile developments for the present, and an announcement was soon received from the Netherlands which offered reasons for the abandonment of the alliance with Cleves far more cogent than those which the news from France furnished for its continuance. It was reported that the Emperor, immediately after the subjugation of the revolt of Ghent, had repeated his demands for the cession of Gelderland[701] by Duke William, and there seemed every probability that in case of refusal he would enforce them by the sword. The bearing of this move on the alliance of England with Cleves has been already indicated. We have seen that when Charles first turned his steps from Paris to the Low Countries, Cromwell probably realized for the first time that the league on which he had based all his hopes might actually work to England’s disadvantage, and that Cleves might be the sole gainer from it. The news from the Netherlands was virtually a confirmation of the minister’s gravest fears. The prospect that he would soon be called upon to defend an ally whom he had expected to defend him, and for whom he had no real regard, must have been intolerable to Henry, and the state of his relations to Anne of Cleves at the time tended of course to increase rather than to diminish his vexation. Add to this the fact that tidings of a somewhat disquieting nature kept coming in from Scotland and Ireland, the blame for which could easily be made to fall on Cromwell, and one can well believe that any gains the King’s minister may have made in the Parliament which had met in April were more than counterbalanced by the losses he had sustained in the course of affairs abroad. Norfolk and Gardiner probably siezed this favourable opportunity to weave further plots against their hated rival, and to devise fresh measures to poison the King’s ear against him[702]. But even had the enmity of these men been turned into friendship, Cromwell’s political blunders had got him into a position from which nothing could extricate him. He had incurred the enmity of a master who never forgave, and his ultimate ruin could only be a question of time.

The events of the month of May were but foreshadowings of the end. On the ninth the King summoned Cromwell to a council, at which the definite abandonment of the minister’s policy must have been openly discussed[703]. Records of the conference are not preserved to us, but the result of it was that two days later Cromwell was forced much against his will to write a letter to Pate, the new ambassador to the Emperor, directing him to take steps to conciliate Charles and hinting that the alliance with Cleves might be thrown over at any moment[704]. The latter part of the month brought with it further confirmation of the minister’s impending fate. Duke William had sent ambassadors to the English Court, to ask the advice of his powerful ally in regard to the answer he should give to the Emperor’s demands for the cession of Gelderland. Henry treated the envoys with marked coldness, and replied to their requests in the most non-committal manner: he could do nothing for the Duke of Cleves, he said, until he had more explicit information concerning the rights and wrongs of the case[705]. The ground on which Cromwell’s feet rested was being cut away on all sides, and yet Marillac, in a letter of the first of June, seemed to think that the arrest of Dr. Wilson for having ‘Popish leanings’ was an indication that the minister and his few remaining adherents still retained some influence. He acknowledged, however, that things changed so rapidly that no person could tell what was going to happen, only he was certain that one party or the other must presently succumb[706].

The catastrophe came like a thunderbolt, less than two weeks after Marillac had written this letter. An entry in the Journal of the House of Lords on June 10 reads: ‘Hodie Vicegerens Regius ... Comes Essex in hora pomeridiana per Dominum Cancellarium et alios Dominos in Arcano Domini Nostri Regis Consilio, ex Palatio Regio Domini Regis Westm. hora tertia pomeridiana super Accusationem Criminis lese Majestatis missus est in Arcem Londinens[707].’ This bald statement is confirmed by letters from Marillac to Francis and Montmorency at the time[708], but a much more striking account of the arrest is contained in another letter from the French ambassador to the Constable, written two weeks later. It tells us that ‘as soon as the Captain of the Guard declared his charge to make him prisoner, Cromwell in a rage cast his bonnet on the ground, saying to the Duke of Norfolk and others of the Privy Council assembled there, that this was the reward of his services, and that he appealed to their consciences as to whether he was a traitor: but since he was treated thus he renounced all pardon, as he had never thought to have offended, and only asked the King not to make him languish long. Thereupon some said he was a traitor, others that he should be judged according to the laws he had made, which were so sanguinary that often words spoken inadvertently with good intention had been constituted high treason. The Duke of Norfolk, having reproached him with some “villennyes” done by him, snatched off the order of St. George, which he bore on his neck, and the Admiral, to show himself as great an enemy in adversity as he had been thought a friend in prosperity, untied the Garter. Then by a door which opens upon the water, he was put in a boat and taken to the Tower, without the people of this town suspecting it, until they saw all the King’s archers under Mr. Cheyney at the door of the suspected prisoner’s house, where they made an inventory of his goods which were not of such value as people thought, although too much for a “compaignon de telle estoffe.” The money was £7,000, equal to 28,000 crs., and the silver plate, including crosses, chalices, and other spoils of the Church, might be as much more. These moveables were before night taken to the King’s treasury, a sign that they will not be restored[709].’

On the day of the arrest, a royal messenger was sent to the French ambassador, to tell him that he must not be amazed at what had happened, for though common ignorant people spoke of it ‘variously,’ the King said that he was determined that Marillac should know the truth. Henry stated that while he was trying ‘by all possible means to lead back religion to the way of truth, Cromwell, as attached to the German Lutherans, had always favoured the doctors who preached such erroneous opinions, and hindered those who preached the contrary, and that recently warned by some of his principal servants to reflect that he was working against the intention of the King and of the Acts of Parliament, he had betrayed himself and said he hoped to suppress the old preachers and have only the new, adding that the affair would soon be brought to such a pass that the King with all his power could not prevent it, but rather his own party would be so strong that he would make the King descend to the new doctrines even if he had to take arms against him[710].’ From this and from another letter written by the council to Wallop at the same time[711] it appears that the King had been able to devise no more plausible pretext for the destruction of his minister than that which had been suggested by the Bishop of Winchester, a pretext which as we have seen was false and unjust in every respect, but convenient in many ways, especially as it was sure to win the approval of the mass of the people, who looked upon Cromwell as a true Protestant and hated him as such, not being able to see that it was solely owing to political motives, that he had been connected with the Reformers[712]. But the fact that the charge on which he was convicted was totally unjustifiable does not in any way imply that Cromwell was wrongly condemned. There were other perfectly valid reasons for his punishment, which, however, it was quite impossible to bring forward against him, simply because the King had shared his guilt. If the number of innocent persons, whom the minister’s influence had brought to the block, be not a sufficient warrant for his conviction and execution, it would be difficult to find a character in English history who merited the death penalty. But all these crimes could not be laid to his charge because the King had supported him in them, and he was arrested instead on the false accusation of opposition to the master to whose service he had devoted his life.

Cranmer was the only man who dared to say a word to the King on Cromwell’s behalf. He wrote a pathetic letter to Henry the day after the arrest, expressing his wonder and distress that one whom he had deemed so good and so faithful, should be accused of treason, but in vain[713]. The fallen minister was not even permitted a trial in which he could be heard in his own defence. That terrible engine of extra-legal destruction, the attainder, by which so many of his own enemies had been annihilated, was used as a swifter and surer means to bring him to the block. The Act of Parliament which attainted him was read in the House of Lords just one week after his arrest[714]: it simply enumerated various acts and speeches which had been laid to his charge, as indicating that he had plotted to make himself more powerful than the King in matters both religious and political, and stated that he had thus incurred the charge of high treason, for which he was condemned to die. He was to suffer as a heretic or a traitor at the King’s pleasure, and forfeit all property held since March 31, 1538. That Cromwell was deprived of all titles and prerogatives on the day of his arrest, and was called only ‘Thomas Cromwell, shearman,’ and that his servants were forbidden to wear his livery, led Marillac to think that he would not be beheaded, as befitted a lord, but would be ‘dragged up as an ignoble person, and afterwards hanged and quartered[715].’ This impression was current two weeks later, for Norfolk told Marillac on July 6, that Cromwell’s end would be ‘the most ignominious in use in the country[716].’ It was not until the day of his execution that ‘grace was made to him upon the method of his death,’ and beheading was substituted for a more painful and ignominious penalty[717]. For though his arrest had been immediately followed by his attainder, execution was delayed for six weeks more, in order that the King might make use of him for a last time, to gain an end which Cromwell had successfully secured for him once before, namely a divorce from a hated Queen.

From the day of his arrest, his execution had been a foregone conclusion; there was no chance of ultimate salvation for the fallen minister. But as a drowning man clutches at a straw to save himself from death, so Cromwell, at Henry’s request, wrote a letter, which he must have known would be useless, to say what he could on his own behalf[718]. The letter speaks for itself: its denials of the charges are not as frequent as the acknowledgements of guilt and pleas for mercy, but it produced no effect on the angry King. What the injudicious words spoken before Throgmorton and Riche were, it is impossible to tell; they were probably simply sentences into which a treasonable intent was read, as into those mentioned in the attainder; the ‘secrete matier’ which Cromwell was accused of revealing without leave may well have been a project of Henry’s to get rid of Anne, which for many reasons it was expedient for him to keep secret, until he was certain that he could free himself by one blow from the marriage which by this time had become intolerable to him. To this purpose all the King’s energies were now bent, and conscious that his fallen minister had known more of his relations with Anne than any other, he sent him in the end of June a list of questions on the subject, couched in such judicious language, that if Cromwell gave the replies he confidently looked for, they would supply cogent reasons for his divorce[719]. He was sure, he said, that now that Cromwell was condemned to die, he would tell the truth and not damn his soul also, by bearing false witness at the last[720]. Whether Henry’s assumption here was correct or not, it is impossible to tell. Cromwell knew of course that his chance of pardon was almost nothing, but he was not so foolish as to throw it away absolutely; he also knew that the King’s heart’s desire was a divorce from Anne, and he saw that his only hope lay in aiding Henry to his utmost to free himself from her. Nor was Cromwell the sort of man to whom dying with a lie on his lips would mean very much; his whole interest was absorbed in the endeavour to make the most of the one very faint chance of escape that was offered to him. Hence it is possible that the testimony he bore in this case may not have been strictly true. He appears to have written two letters in answer to the King’s interrogatories; one of them is in the library of the Marquis of Salisbury at Hatfield House; the other, badly mutilated, in the British Museum[721]. Both of them are filled with abject pleas for mercy, and one of them, which was carried to the King by Cromwell’s faithful Ralph Sadler, moved Henry so much, that it is said that he commanded it to be read to him thrice[722]. The two letters tell the same story in slightly different words: they give a full account of everything that Cromwell had seen of Henry’s relation to Anne, since they first met at Rochester. They dilate on the King’s disgust at the first sight of the ‘great Flanders mare,’ tell how he endeavoured to put off the wedding, alleging as his excuse the previous engagement of Anne and the Duke of Lorraine’s son, and finally quote a conversation of Henry and Cromwell, the day after the marriage, in which the King appears to have informed his minister that consummation had not followed. The truth of this last statement is apparently corroborated by a letter which Anne sent to her brother a few days later[723]. Experience of the very unscrupulous methods of Henry VIII., especially when matrimonial issues were at stake, leads the reader, however, at least to recognize the possibility that Anne may have written this letter under compulsion and the threat of death if she refused. The testimony with which the King had armed himself for the struggle he anticipated over gaining a divorce from his fourth wife, was thus all of it obtained under circumstances that certainly cast grave suspicions on its veracity; and the modern student may well be excused for refusing to accept it with that pleasingly implicit faith which the Convocations and Parliaments of this period almost invariably placed in the statements of the sovereign[724].

Certainly there was little cause for Henry to doubt his own ability to wrest a decision of the nullity of his marriage from clergy, Lords, and Commons. Ten years of Cromwell’s masterfulness had been enough to convince them of the absolute futility of opposing the King in any matter on which he had set his heart. The evidence wrung from the fallen minister almost under the shadow of the scaffold, and the confirmatory letter elicited from Anne, coupled with a ‘breve trew and parfaict declaracion’ from the King himself[725], were quite sufficient to cause Convocation after three days of debate finally to agree on the judgement that the union was unlawful, and to send their decision to Parliament on July 12. An Act to proclaim the marriage null and void from the beginning was hurried through the Houses with all possible speed, and on the 14th it was passed[726]. From that time onward the ‘lady Anne was treated as a sister by the King’; she was suffered to live in retirement, adequate lands and money were apportioned to her, and she remained in England, contented and happy that execution had not been substituted for divorce[727]. The Duke of Cleves was naturally enraged at the treatment of his sister, and resolutely refused to acknowledge that she had been honourably dealt with; but he knew that he was too weak to avenge the insult, and coldly promised that the nullification of the marriage would not cause him to ‘departe from his devotion leage and amytie’ with the King of England[728].

The story of Cromwell’s arrest, followed by the report of the divorce of Anne of Cleves, was also immediately communicated to France and Spain. Francis appears to have received the news of the first with unfeigned joy, and was not slow to signify to Henry his satisfaction at the unexpected turn of affairs[729]. He wrote again to the King a little later, asserting that Cromwell had adjusted a dispute over some prizes taken by the ships of the governor of Picardy, the Sieur de Rochepot, in such a way that he had derived personal gain from the transaction; this complaint was sent to Cromwell in the Tower, and drew from him the reply contained in the last existing letter which he wrote[730]. Francis’ enthusiasm at the ruin of a minister whom he had such reason to hate, seems to have been somewhat diminished when he learned that Anne’s marriage had been dissolved, as he naturally saw that this step would immediately put England and Spain on a better footing. An interesting account of the ambassador Carne’s breaking the news to Francis, is given in a letter of Wallop’s to Henry of July 10. Francis, as it appears, ‘fett a gret sighte,’ as if reflecting on the vacillating methods of his ‘nere and dere brother,’ but finally assented that Henry’s ‘owne conscience shuld be judge therein[731].’ The French King, though he greatly rejoiced in Cromwell’s fall, was evidently somewhat taken aback by the first result of the consummation of his hopes. Charles showed none of the same outward enthusiasm, when Pate declared to him the news of Cromwell’s arrest; he did not even send a message, but left the ambassador in a later letter to the King to supplement his silence with his own approval. His replies to the news of the divorce of Anne were likewise calm, but he certainly was much relieved by what he had heard[732]. The common opinion which the sudden reversal of Cromwell’s policy had caused on the Continent seems to have been, as Pate wrote to Norfolk on July 31, that Henry had ‘lost the hartes of the Electors of thEmpire’ but had ‘contravailed thEmprour or the Frenche King in there places[733].’

On July 27 the Parliament closed, having finished the work that the King had mapped out for it. Since Cromwell’s arrest it had practically undone all that his foreign policy of the two past years had accomplished, by nullifying the marriage of Henry and Anne. The rest of its proceedings are unimportant, except perhaps the attainder of Barnes, Garret, and Jerome, the Lutheran preachers, who were convicted of heresy and sentenced to die at the stake[734]. With the divorce from Anne secured, and those whom the minister had favoured at home condemned, there was now no longer any impediment to the completion of the final act of the tragedy, and on July 28 ‘Thomas Cromwell, shearman,’ was led forth to execution. In a letter to Francis, Marillac simply mentions the fact of his death[735], but a more complete account of the end of the great minister is fortunately preserved to us in the chronicles of Holinshed and Hall, and the history of Foxe[736].