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