The King's Cardinal: The Rise and Fall of Thomas Wolsey (Pimlico) (173 page)

There are no easy rejoinders to these criticisms, but given that the large gaps in the evidence make any interpretation very provisional, they are not such that the view put forward here has to be rejected. In the first place, what Cromwell meant by this piece of information, or what authority should be attached to it, is not as clear as it has sometimes been taken to be. Whatever his precise position in royal government at this time, he was not involved in the making of major policy decisions, nor is there any reason to suppose that he had access to any privileged information.
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One reason for being so confident about both these things is that the closer Cromwell became to Henry the less likely it is that he would have either
dared or wished to pass on confidential information to his former master, particularly if he had any reason to believe that the former master was about to be arrested for high treason. Secondly, it is most unlikely that any very dramatic decision had been made as regards the praemunire prosecutions. The notion that the government had decided to drop them in favour of a charge against the whole of the English clergy cannot be sustained, for the simple reason that this did not happen.
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Instead, at least the nine who had defaulted would be appearing in court on 20 January, shortly after parliament had reassembled. As suggested earlier, there could hardly have been a better way of encouraging MPs to think carefully before opposing the royal wishes; but the point is that the government had always seen a connection between the prosecutions and parliamentary pressure on the Church, since what it was looking for was some kind of parliamentary authorization for the Church to grant a divorce. The original cases had been timed to coincide with the sitting of parliament, and Cromwell’s cryptic remark probably only referred to the fact that the recent prorogation had made a nonsense of that timing, which now needed to be adjusted. But an alternative explanation does present itself. What Henry had done in October by proroguing parliament was to buy himself a little time – time in which, perhaps, to tighten the screws by moving against Wolsey, or even to make use of him to pronounce his first marriage null and void? If this is so, then it may be that Cromwell was trying to convey some kind of coded message to his former master, something he might have attempted just because he was not in the inner ring of royal advisers. A possible scenario might be that he knew of the prorogation, for that after all was public knowledge. He would have deduced that this might affect the praemunire prosecutions. He may have heard rumours that some of the accused bishops had decided not to turn up; he could hardly have known for certain that they would not because that decision was the bishops’, not, as in some accounts is assumed, the Crown’s. He may also have picked up rumours of a decision affecting Wolsey. Putting all these things together, he might then have written as he did, not daring to be more explicit about what he had gleaned concerning Wolsey’s fate. It is a scenario that may appear bizarre, but it seems to make at least as much sense as any other, particularly of Cromwell’s remark that Wolsey would ‘further know’ about the praemunire prosecutions. This is unlikely to have been a reference to some new parliamentary tactics which the Crown had decided upon
vis-à-vis
the Church. Even if it is assumed that the government had just made some important decision about the prosecutions, and that, contrary to the view advanced earlier, Cromwell was privy to the decision, there is no earthly reason why Wolsey would have received any information about something that was inevitably of a confidential nature until, that is, it was put into effect some three months hence. That ‘as your grace shall further know’ suggests something more immediate than this, and, moreover, something that might affect Wolsey more closely.

Another criticism of the view of events being advanced is that it ignores some important evidence concerning Wolsey’s arrest that in most accounts has been given some prominence. When in mid-July 1530 Norfolk had informed Chapuys of
Wolsey’s plotting, he had made a point of saying that, come what may, the cardinal ‘would never again either see or speak with the king’, adding that the information about the conspiracy had only been revealed to him by those closest to Wolsey, because they knew that it could harm no one but himself, the duke.
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Three months later, and only about a fortnight before Wolsey’s arrest, a former member of Wolsey’s household, Thomas Arundel, reported to Wolsey a conversation with Norfolk, who had told him that he did not believe that Wolsey no longer aspired to any position of authority, ‘for he said that he had both your grace’s hand to the contrary, and knew three messages, sent by three divers persons, of your grace to the king, whereby it might well appear that you desired as much authority as ever you did’.
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And that this was not entirely an invention of Norfolk’s paranoia is indicated by the fact that at one point Henry himself had informed Cromwell that he understood that Wolsey had been trying to stir up trouble between himself and the duke.
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That Wolsey’s arrest was the result of Norfolk’s and his supporters’ fear that he might make a come-back was an explanation put forward, though not with any great conviction, by both Chapuys and the Milanese ambassador.
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For Cavendish there was no uncertainty:

My lord’s accustomed enemies in the court about the king had now my lord in more doubt than they had before his fall, considering the continual favour that the king bare him; [they] thought at length the king might call him home again and, if he so did, they supposed that he would rather imagine against them than remit or forget their cruelty which they most unjustly imagined against him. Wherefore they compassed in their heads that they would either by some means dispatch him by some sinister accusation of treason, or to bring him into the king’s high indignation by some other ways
.
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And if this was Cavendish’s mature assessment, it was no doubt based, in part at least, on his recollection of Wolsey’s own words to Walter Walsh immediately after his arrest:

I doubt not for my part but I shall prove and clear myself to be a true man against the expectation of all my cruel enemies. I have an understanding whereupon all this matter groweth … Put therefore the king’s commission and your authority in execution, in God’s name, and spare not, and I will obey the king’s will and pleasure. For I fear more the cruelty of my unmerciful enemies than I do my truth and allegiance
.
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In Cavendish’s account, Wolsey probably meant by his ‘enemies’ the Boleyns, especially a certain ‘serpentine enemy … (I mean the night crow)’,
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alias Anne, rather than Norfolk; and Chapuys too at one point placed the emphasis upon ‘the lady’, whom he reported as threatening to leave Henry if he ever allowed Wolsey to
return.
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. As most accounts assume that the Boleyns and Norfolk were still at this stage as one, this multiplication of Wolsey’s enemies hardly matters; essentially it is the old aristocratic faction back to its dirty tricks again. What, of course, does complicate matters is the argument of the previous chapter that this faction had not existed: its alleged members were in no sense committed enemies of Wolsey’s, and even if they had been, they lacked the necessary skill and determination to bring him down. Above all, and despite the king’s all too obvious infatuation for Anne, they were never the king’s masters.

How to get over this problem? On the one hand, there is the particular evidence of a paranoid Norfolk and a ‘serpentine’ Anne’s determination to prevent any come-back by Wolsey. On the other, there are the conclusions already reached concerning those who were supposedly Wolsey’s enemies, which suggest that they would have been neither able nor especially anxious to prevent his return. One oddity about the particular evidence has already been pointed out: that Norfolk by his own account was in full command of all the facts about Wolsey’s alleged conspiracy by mid-July, but that no action was taken about it until early November. Another is that he was willing to tell a foreign ambassador about it, especially one who was known to have been in contact with Wolsey and whose master was supposedly involved in the plotting. And why did he talk in the rather aggressive way that he did about Wolsey’s continuing political ambitions to someone like Arundel, who was almost certainly going to report what he was saying back to Wolsey? It was all very indiscreet, not to say downright foolish, for it makes no sense to tip off one’s political opponent just before destroying him. If, on the other hand, he is not much of a threat, and one is not about to destroy him, it might make more sense and in two ways. First, it could be a way of obtaining information. Secondly, it could be a way of conveying messages. What Wolsey was up to had to be of concern to Norfolk, not because Wolsey was a lifelong enemy whom he was determined to do down at all costs, but because as a leading royal servant it was Norfolk’s job to keep his eye on all potential troublemakers, which as a recently disgraced minister of the Crown Wolsey had to be. His contacts with foreign governments were known about, as was his popularity in the North. Probably all this was quite harmless, but it was worth monitoring from time to time. By mentioning a conspiracy, or by making some provocative remark about Wolsey’s continuing ambitions, Norfolk would have hoped to elicit a reaction from his listener which might be informative. It would also be a gentle way of warning everybody concerned that the government was not stupid, and that therefore they should resist any temptation to do anything silly.

There are further reasons for doubting whether this evidence adds up to much. Norfolk’s mention of Wolsey’s plotting occurred very much
en passant
in the course of a long interview with Chapuys. What happened was that the role that the French, and in particular the bishop of Tarbes, might play in furthering the divorce had come up, and this had given Norfolk the opportunity to launch an attack on the bishop’s remarks on his and his fellow councillors’ competence to the effect that they were not a patch on the former lord chancellor. Moreover, Chapuys had been stirring things up by suggesting that at any moment Wolsey would return courtesy of
the French, a suggestion given some credibility by the cardinal’s close relationship with the French while in power. Wolsey’s presence in the wings undoubtedly made life more difficult for Norfolk because it could be made use of by foreign powers and not only for Norfolk. It did not do Henry’s reputation much good either for rumours to be circulating that he was so in the pocket of the French king that he was likely to recall a disgraced minister at their request. Little wonder that Norfolk was anxious to scotch all such rumours: not only was Wolsey not going to return to power, but all his secret negotiations with the French were already known to the government, who could put an end to them whenever it liked. This is what Norfolk told Chapuys,
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but in doing so it is highly unlikely that he was disclosing information of any great significance concerning a serious threat to Henry’s throne, masterminded by Wolsey. Rather, he was simply making use of the continuing contact between Wolsey and Joachim, which it should be remembered the government had authorized, to try to put an end to harmful diplomatic gossip. And that this is how Chapuys perceived it is suggested by the fact that he made no further comment to the emperor about Wolsey’s plotting, which if he had ever taken it seriously, he surely would have done. And as a coda it is worth pointing out that however suspicious Norfolk had shown himself to be to Arundel about Wolsey’s continuing political ambitions, it had not prevented him from promising that ‘in all reasonable causes’ he would be as good a friend to Wolsey as Arundel could desire.
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As was suggested in the previous chapter, most interpretations of Norfolk’s role in Wolsey’s destruction derive from preconceptions about his relationship with Wolsey which should probably be dispensed with. Moreover, whatever Norfolk’s personal views about Wolsey, it is highly unlikely that they would have figured uppermost in his day-to-day conduct of Henry’s business, or that he would have gone out of his way to tell Chapuys, or indeed Arundel, about them; the conduct of the king’s affairs was a rather more serious business than that. First and foremost, Wolsey was for Norfolk but one factor in the conduct of the king’s affairs, and it is in this light that one should evaluate the evidence of what he said about Wolsey in the months before his arrest. And if this is done, the evidence will be seen to lend little weight to the theory that the arrest was a pre-emptive strike to prevent the cardinal’s return to power.

It will have been noticed that in arriving at this conclusion the question of whether or not there was a conspiracy led by Wolsey could not be kept out. This is not surprising, since everything in this chapter turns on the answer. If there was a conspiracy, then the interpretation of Wolsey’s last months is relatively straightforward. Interesting problems would be raised about the motivation of all those involved. There would remain some worries about its extent, and whether it was precisely as the Crown alleged. But that Henry was forced to move against his former lord chancellor, who had repaid his generous treatment by plotting with various foreign powers against him, would provide the bare bones of a simple story. But although it is a story that clearly Henry wanted everyone to believe, and for which the greatest amount of evidence has survived, here it has been rejected. So, also, has the ‘sensible view’, which has it that there was no conspiracy by anybody,
just a good deal of mutual suspicion and misunderstanding. It may be felt that not enough attention has been paid to this view, but once Wolsey is freed from suspicion it is hard to take a benign view of Henry. After all, if there was no conspiracy, then the case that he made against Wolsey to Bryan was a pack of lies,
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in support of which he had been prepared to bribe and bully a former confidant of Wolsey’s into providing false evidence. There was nothing naïve or muddled in all this, nor indeed should one expect it. By insisting against all the odds on marrying Anne, and in the process changing his kingdom’s religious practice and beliefs, Henry took enormous risks. That he succeeded in getting his way suggests that he was a ruthless and skilful political operator, not at all a man to have overlooked the dangers inherent in allowing Wolsey to take up his duties as archbishop of York, or, once he had allowed this, to have been easily panicked into having him arrested. To accept the ‘sensible view’ one would have to revise completely the picture of Henry that has so far been drawn, and the evidence in its favour by no means calls for such a revision.