Look like the time.’
There are many evidences of his good taste and love of beautiful things[179]. A long and complicated correspondence with his friend Stephen Vaughan about an iron chest of very curious workmanship, which he wanted for his house at Austin Friars, of such expense that Vaughan was almost afraid to buy it, is not without interest. There is record of his purchasing a globe, with a set of explanatory notes, and the only two ‘Cronica Cronicarum cum figuris’ that could be found in all Antwerp[180]. Especially great was his love of Italian things. His stay in Italy was of sufficient duration to steep him in the spirit of the Renaissance; he read and studied his Machiavelli, so that it was a guide to his future political career; we can well imagine him repeating to himself the sentence in chapter xviii of The Prince which begins ‘Ma è necessario questa natura saperla bene colorire, ed essere gran simulatore e dissimulatore[181],’ or the passage in chapter xvii of the same, ‘Deve pertanto un principe non si curare dell’infamia di crudele per tenere i sudditi suoi uniti ed in fede[182].’ He doubtless possessed many of the important Italian books in print at that time. In April, 1530, Edmund Bonner writes to him to remind him of his promise to lend him the Triumphs of Petrarch and the Cortigiano, and to make him a good Italian[183].
Of his social gifts and of his charm as a host there is no room to doubt. There are many proofs that he was a most magnificent entertainer, and that his personal attraction, when he wished to make himself agreeable, was such that no one could resist it. The letters of Chapuys inform us that even the most careful and experienced politicians were often completely put off their guard by Cromwell’s pleasing presence and address; and more than once were induced to say things which should not have escaped them.
But all these manners and externals were simply disguises to hide the real inward character of the man. The whole essence of Cromwell’s personality consists of different manifestations of one fundamental, underlying trait, which may perhaps be best expressed by the common phrase ‘a strict attention to business.’ Cromwell worshipped and sought after the practical and the useful only, and utterly disregarded everything else. The first evidence of this quality has been already noticed, as coming in the shape of a contempt for the vague generalizations of the Parliament of 1523, which beat about the bush for an entire session without ever coming to the point[184]. Here it assumes a somewhat negative form. Another striking instance of it occurs in the conversation which Pole relates as having taken place between himself and Cromwell, at Wolsey’s house, concerning the proper duty of a true servant of a Prince[185]. Pole as usual began theorizing about the best way to bring honour to one’s master, when he was rudely interrupted by Cromwell, who advised him in few words to forsake the remote learning of the schools, and devote himself to reading a new book which took a practical view of the case, and which Pole later found was the adviser’s favourite Prince of Machiavelli. Cromwell at the same time took occasion to tell Pole that the great art of the politician was to penetrate through the disguise which sovereigns are accustomed to throw over their real inclinations, and to devise the most specious expedients by which they may gratify their appetites without appearing to outrage morality or religion[186]. It is not astonishing that Pole realized that it was dangerous for him to remain in England, when Cromwell came into power.
Another more positive and striking way in which this characteristic stood forth, was in his utter lack of emotion. It was this quality which enabled Cromwell to tick off in his memoranda the lives of human beings, as if they were items in an account; or to send people to trials, of which the verdicts had been determined beforehand, as ‘the Abbott of Redyng to be Sent Down to be tryed & excecutyd at Reding[187].’ He totally disregarded the justness or morality of any action; its utility was for him its morality, and created its justification. He never struck at his victims in a moment of passion, uselessly or capriciously; no personal feeling of hatred mingled with his crime. On the other hand, had the sacrifice of one of his nearest or dearest friends been necessary to the accomplishment of his purposes, he would hardly have hesitated a moment. Any means that could bring about the ends he sought were ipso facto for him justifiable. Whether his desires were attained by fair means or foul, mattered little to him: he kept his eyes steadily fixed upon the goal; the smoothness or roughness of the road to it was of no consequence in his eyes[188].
Finally, and perhaps most important of all, Cromwell never lost anything that might be turned to good account. It has been shown how he not only succeeded in freeing himself from any ill-name at Wolsey’s fall, but also actually used his master’s overthrow to further his own ends, and make himself known and popular at Court. But this is only a slender hint of what was to follow. It was precisely from this same practical utilitarian standpoint, that he regarded and made use of to his own ends the King’s amours, the suppression of the monasteries, the Reformation. Catholicism and Protestantism passed over his head; he was not touched by either of them. He simply used them as pieces in the great game which he was playing.
Such was the man who, for the next ten years, was to have almost the sole guidance of the course of English history. As was his purpose when he rode on the afternoon of All Hallows Day to London to look after his own interests and those of his master, so was his mission as minister and counsellor of the King, ‘to make or to marre.’