Welcome to another installment of the details behind Wolf Hall 2: The Mirror and the Light. Thomas Cromwell’s fall from grace has long been seen as a sudden act – one minute he is being made the Earl of Essex, next he is dead, all because King Henry thought Anna of Cleves was ugly. None of that is true, and The Mirror and the Light shows the pivotal moment where Cromwell’s fall began, a full year before his death. However, the truth of the event is very different to what is shown onscreen.
In The Mirror and the Light episode 4, we see Cromwell at a banquet dinner held at Lambeth Palace by Archbishop Cranmer. All of the Privy Council attend, and Bishop Stephen Gardiner decides to stir up trouble by discussing the murder of Cardinal Bainbridge, talking of how he was poisoned by a priest, but instead veers into fantasy land and suggests Cromwell was the killer. Cromwell lashes out at Norfolk, who is off on another tangent complaining about how Cromwell isn’t good enough to be a nobleman, and conspires against everyone. This scene is a good show of research on Cromwell’s life, but bears no resemblance to the truth.
In 1514, Thomas Cromwell went to Rome, one of several trips he took during the decade, working on behalf of a private legal client to argue the Stratford Langthorne tithe dispute. Having seen the ‘factions and manners’ of the Italians for years, and able to speak fluent Italian and Latin, Cromwell was perfect for the job. In Rome, Cromwell stayed at the English Hospice, San Tommaso di Canterbury. The English Hospice at via Monserrato 45 (now The Venerable English College), sat a block from the Tiber river, and a two-mile walk to the Apostolic Palace. The hostel had been catering to English pilgrims to Rome for almost 200 years, and after renovation and reorganisation by King Henry VII, became an important hub for English diplomats visiting the city.
On his May stay, Cromwell met Lancelot Collins, nephew to the hospice’s master Cardinal Christopher Bainbridge, Archbishop of York, and resident English cardinal in Rome. This meeting between Cromwell and Collins would spark another genuine lifelong friendship, with Collins considered one of the kindest and most generous men in England by even cynical men. Collins valued his friendship with Cromwell for over twenty years, even when, in later life, it would threaten his safety. But Cromwell had already left Rome by 14 July 1514 when Cardinal Bainbridge was poisoned by Rinaldo de Modena, one of Bainbridge’s chaplains, and rumoured lover who had suffered a beating from the cardinal. When interrogated, Modena confessed to planning the murder with Silvester de Gigli of Lucca, Bishop of Worcester and English ambassador in Rome, however, Modena was soon murdered in prison. Bainbridge’s executors, Richard Pace and John Clerk, wanted Gigli arrested for his part in the death, but Gigli swore that Modena was insane, and no charges were brought in Rome or in England. Either way, Gigli was not charged and he died himself a few years later. Absolutely nothing in the case had anything to do with Cromwell or Wolsey.
Back to 1539, on 2 July, King Henry, already off on progress, commanded Archbishop Cranmer to host a banquet at Lambeth Palace, with both sides of the religious divide ordered to attend, as everyone remained in London. Henry did not attend, but Cromwell, starting to return to health after three full months, could attend his first public occasion. The banquet would go down in infamy. As a man freshly recovered from a torturous illness, Cromwell was far from the calculating, charming man he portrayed at court. Cranmer’s secretary Ralph Morice recorded the evening, which formed the basis of John Foxe’s later book detailing the event. Cromwell and Cranmer were warmest friends and allies, two leaders of the Reformation in England. Morice recalled a rarely recorded argument between the pair. Cromwell muttered to Cranmer:
‘you were born at a happy hour, for do or say what you, the King will always take it well at your hand. And I must needs confess that in some things I have complained of you unto His Majesty, but all in vain, for he will never give credit against you, whatsoever is laid to your charge, but let me or any other of the Council be complained of, his Grace will most seriously chide and fall out with us.’
Whether this uncommon, disrespectful, and candid complaint came before or after the main fireworks is unknown, as Cromwell again made a scene, publicly fighting with the ever-present, ever-meddling, Duke of Norfolk. Norfolk gave a speech about King Henry’s love for Cranmer, and compared Cranmer to Wolsey, calling Wolsey ‘a churlish prelate … who could never abide a nobleman … you know well enough Lord Crumwell, for he was your master …’ Morice then put down his quill, unwilling to record the awful things Norfolk insinuated about Wolsey and Cromwell. Cromwell, only just out of his sickbed, and already surrounded by enemies and a tense meeting of religious views, stood up to defend Wolsey. Cromwell told the room he did not regret his time with Wolsey, well-paid and well-provided for during their six-year friendship. Cromwell then roundly turned against Norfolk, giving him a caustic sixteenth-century dressing down, among other things, saying:
‘I was never so far in love with (Wolsey) as to have waited upon him in Rome if he had been chosen Pope, as I understand (Norfolk) would have done’.
The exchange does not sound hostile now, but it implied Norfolk was prepared to serve the Catholic faith and the Pope over his king, which would be treason. Norfolk bellowed a denial to the claim. Cromwell, through a lack of manners and a vast memory, told everyone Norfolk received 50,000 florins to transport Wolsey to Rome in 1523 when Wolsey was in place to become the Pope. The florins were proof of Norfolk’s plan to go to Rome with Wolsey. While Cranmer and others at the banquet diffused the screaming match, which was unquestionably complemented by bountiful wine and strong egos, the match had been lit between the men. Neither needed to wear the mask of courtesy again, as the peers of the realm had seen and heard all. Cromwell did not know it, but this banquet was the beginning of his ultimate downfall. The illness he suffered that caused him to miss the parliamentary session and the passing of the Six Articles would cause Cromwell to make numerous mistakes
All sources come from The Private Life of Thomas Cromwell. My publisher might come for you if you plagiarise.
CAROLINE ANGUS 