THE SPANISH PRINCESS
Katherine arrived in England in 1501, and Henry VII immediately wished to view England’s prize. Growing impatient with her slow progress from the coast, in an impetuous gesture he rides down to meet the Spanish party. In Wolf Hall, Wolsey describes King Henry striding into the rooms where Katherine was staying, where upon seeing her for the first time he is rendered speechless. Katherine was a beautiful, 16-year-old princess and her marriage to the 15-year-old Prince Arthur excited the entire country, with its promise of prosperity, unity with the great kingdom of Spain, and a long succession of progeny. Katherine and Arthur were wed, moving first to Baynard’s Castle, then Windsor, and finally to Ludlow in Wales, where the young couple would set up royal residence. Tragically, within a year, Arthur was dead, and Katherine quickly made it known that the marriage had never been consummated. Whether this declaration was calculated, or whether she was telling the truth, we shall never know. In Wolf Hall, Cromwell contemplates a young, widowed Katherine he never knew, who insisted she was still a virgin. Perhaps they should have verified her statement at the time, he thinks – Katherine, although fearful, would not have objected:
‘But they never asked her to prove what she claimed; perhaps people were not so shameless in those days.’
Only six years older than the young Prince Henry, Katherine still possessed all the qualities found in an ideal queen, but it seemed that both Henry and his father, the recently widowed Henry VII, had their eye on her. Thankfully, Katherine’s parents rejected the proposal of the elder king and it was agreed that Prince Henry would wed his brother’s widow.
The decision to betroth her to Arthur’s brother, Henry, rescued both dowry and alliance, and pleased both sets of parents. But there was an issue: the marriage between Katherine and Arthur had created an affinity between Katherine and Henry. The devout Ferdinand requested a papal dispensation, and accordingly a papal bull was granted by Julius II on 26 December 1503, which allowed the marriage to proceed. However, a key enjoinder in the bull was a single, potent word, forsitan, meaning ‘perhaps’; perhaps Katherine and Arthur consummated their marriage, but perhaps they had not.
Decades later in Wolf Hall, when looking for a pretext on which to annul the king’s first marriage, Cromwell notes that the language used in the bull was carefully chosen to cover either eventuality, and that the answer to his problem was more likely to be found in the Spanish documents relating to the marriage, ‘not squabbling in a court of law over a shred of skin and a splash of blood on a linen sheet’.
Cromwell first hears of Henry’s marital doubts while sitting in Wolsey’s chambers; it is 1527. Wolsey ponders how he might find Henry a son to rule after him. Cromwell replies ‘If you cannot find him a son ... you must find him a piece of scripture. To ease his mind.’ They reject Deuteronomy, which advises that a man should marry the wife of a dead brother, on the basis that the king ‘doesn’t like Deuteronomy’. Instead, Henry thinks he might appeal to Pope Clement VII to release him from ‘sin’ by ending the marriage, as popes had done for other European royalty, and had selected the pertinent passage in Leviticus 20:21, which forbids a man to marry his brother’s widow or else they would be childless. Wolsey explains that the king interprets ‘childless’ as having no sons.
THE RIVALS AND HENRY’S ‘GREAT MATTER’
Despite almost 20 years of marriage, Henry was determined to be rid of Katherine. When she finally was apprised of the situation, of course she was outraged and suspected that Wolsey was behind the plot; historically Wolsey and Katherine had a slightly tense relationship. Queen Katherine had been brought up in a household where her parents were monarchs who governed jointly, her rightful place at least should be sole advisor to the king. She was mistrustful of Wolsey’s desire to be the king’s confidant; and his partiality towards the French, the traditional enemies of the Spanish Empire, made her deeply suspicious.
When Katherine was confronted by Henry and his advisers about the validity of their marriage, without hesitation she assured them that it was valid because she and the ‘sickly’ 15-year-old Arthur had never consummated their union. She was a virgin when she married Henry; there was no sex, no affinity, no impediment. What Katherine hadn’t grasped, perhaps blinded by her faith and love for her husband, was that her virginity wasn’t the point, it was merely a weapon. At first it seemed simple, one pope had allowed the marriage, so another pope could disallow it, or so Wolsey and Henry might have thought, but it soon became very clear that Katherine had a powerful ally, her nephew, the Holy Roman Emperor Charles V, a monarch that not even the Pope was willing to offend. The Pope would never accede to this request, therefore, it was more prudent and propitious to ask for the case be heard in England where the outcome could be controlled. Pope Clement VII agreed to this and appointed a commission, consisting of Cardinal Wolsey and another legate, Cardinal Campeggio, to hear the case, while the decision of the commission was still to be referred to Rome for confirmation.
Mantel’s Cromwell was there to witness it all. The court is a secret one, and is likely to rule in Henry’s favour, but Wolsey is not confident this will be enough, ‘he does not know ... what the legatine court can do for him, beyond this preparatory step; since Katherine, surely, is bound to appeal to Rome.’ Which she would certainly do. However, before a formal trial could commence, word was received that the troops of Katherine’s nephew, Charles V, had sacked Rome and taken the Pope captive.
Charles may not have given the order, but it was done in his name, and now this young, ambitious ruler held half of Europe as well as the papacy in his hands. On 8 December 1528, Cardinal Campeggio arrived in London, sent by the Pope to stall proceedings. In the interim, Katherine managed to produce Pope Julius II’s original dispensation, which had allowed her to marry Henry, alarming Wolsey. Both Wolsey and Campeggio had hoped Katherine, whose destiny had been the throne of England since she had been betrothed to Arthur since the age of three, would simply flee to a convent, an offer which she refused. Katherine appealed to Rome, to her nephew, and to anyone else who would listen. Formal proceedings finally began on 31 May 1529 in the Legatine Court at Blackfriars, London. On 21 June, Katherine herself was called.
In Wolf Hall Mantel steps away from one of the most famous speeches of the period, in which Katherine knelt at her husband’s feet and pleaded her case:
I have been to you a true, humble and obedient wife, ever comfortable to your will and pleasure, that never said or did any thing to the contrary thereof, being always well pleased and contented with all things wherein you had any delight or dalliance, whether it were in little or much. I never grudged in word or countenance, or showed a visage or spark of discontent. I loved all those whom ye loved, only for your sake, whether I had cause or no, and whether they were my friends or enemies. This twenty years or more I have been your true wife and by me ye have had divers children, although it hath pleased God to call them out of this world, which hath been no default in me. And when ye had me at first, I take God to my judge, I was a true maid, without touch of man. And whether it be true or no, I put it to your conscience.
Katherine is as formidable in fiction as she was historically, and there is a sense that the real Cromwell had a deep respect for her strength and determination. Mantel’s Cromwell is equally admiring, her speech ‘resounds from here to Paris, from here to Madrid, to Rome. She is standing on her status, she is standing on her rights; the windows are rattled, from here to Constantinople. What a woman she is, he remarks in Spanish.’
Clement procrastinated for as long as possible, despite the constant pressure from Wolsey, who felt, rightly, that his very life depended on the right outcome.
In July 1529 Campeggio adjourned the hearing until October, as this was the time for the harvest in Rome and its environs, and this allowed the Legatine Court a summer recess. But the court would never sit again, for news soon reached England that Pope Clement had approved Katherine’s appeal and recalled the case to Rome. This
was the end for Wolsey. Cromwell considers the news:
That evening with Wolsey he believes, for the first time, that the cardinal will come down. If he falls, he thinks, I come down with him.
(Wolf Hall)
Wolsey had always been deeply unpopular with the nobility, who envied his ability and the king’s reliance on him, but he had done nothing to remedy it or win over his enemies. But without Henry’s favour, Wolsey was vulnerable. Within months of the legatine recess, Wolsey presided over the meetings of the king’s council, but unbeknownst to him, charges were being drawn up against him. As Mantel’s Cromwell tells us, ‘he is charged with asserting a foreign jurisdiction in the king’s realm ... with exercising his role as papal legate ... he has always been, more imperious than the king. For that, if it is a crime, he is guilty.’
In a scene near the beginning of Wolf Hall, and the first scene in the BBC production: the great dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk march into York Place and demand the Great Seal from Wolsey, as Cromwell, in rapid undertones, advises his master. There was no time even to protest: on 9 October 1529, Wolsey was indicted in the Court of the King’s Bench under praemunire, a lesser form of treason. On 17 October, he surrendered the great seal and formally resigned as Lord Chancellor. He was allowed to leave London and make his way north to his diocese of York.
ENTRY TO COURT
With Wolsey’s fall, men like Cromwell, Stephen Vaughan and George Cavendish feared they would share their master’s fate. Cavendish even recounts a weeping Cromwell lamenting that he would likely lose everything he had worked for, a scene which Mantel includes, though her Cromwell is weeping for his daughters. He had worked with Wolsey for years and he alone knew all of Wolsey’s private as well as public affairs; he was allowed to conclude Wolsey’s outstanding matters, often attending court on Wolsey’s behalf, and also took charge of his estates and household goods.
In Wolf Hall, Cromwell is determined to intervene on his master’s behalf, to convince Henry, and more importantly, Anne Boleyn and her allies, that Wolsey is the best bet for achieving their goal of an annulment. Following Wolsey’s fall, he approaches the king as he prepares for a day of hunting, but this is not, as Henry reminds Cromwell, the first time they have met. Seven years prior, in 1523, Cromwell had entered Parliament and obtained a seat in the House of Commons – though he would not maintain his seat for long, he must have made an impression. His speech still survives, in which he eloquently raised issues over Henry’s proposed war with France, objecting to the request to the House from Wolsey for more money to fund such a campaign. It was rather daring for Cromwell to oppose his patron at the time, and attempt to reason with a young king who dreamed of conquering France. We do not know if Henry ever reproached him for the speech, but in Wolf Hall, Mantel imagines what it might look like: here is Henry berating Cromwell for dismissing Henry’s earlier capture of the French town of Thérouanne:
‘So what do you want? You want a king who doesn’t fight? You want me to huddle indoors like a sick girl?’
‘That would be ideal, for fiscal purposes.’
Following this meeting, Wolsey receives cartloads of furnishings for Esher Palace, which gives Cromwell hope that Henry missed his former Chancellor. We also know that Cromwell made his mark, with his friend, John Russell, writing to him following the meeting with Henry to tell him how well he had impressed the king.
ANNE BOLEYN
In Wolf Hall, even Anne Boleyn remarks on Henry’s growing admiration for his new man, Cromwell:
‘Alors,’ Anne says softly, ‘suddenly, everything is about you. The king does not cease to quote Master Cromwell.’ She pronounces it as if she can’t manage the English: Cremuel.
We do not know when Cromwell first met Anne Boleyn in person, but Mantel has imagined it thus: it is Lent, 1529 and as Henry is spending time with Katherine ‘for the sake of appearances’, Anne sends for Cromwell ‘to see if he offers any amusement’.
Anne Boleyn may well be one of the most famous and enigmatic women in English history; although so many have pronounced their like or dislike for her, there is so much about her life that eludes us. Evidence suggests Anne was born at Blickling, Norfolk, anywhere between 1500 and 1509 to Thomas and Elizabeth Boleyn, though it is debatable whether she was the elder or younger daughter (Mantel has favoured the latter). Her grandfather, Thomas Howard, and great grandfather, Thomas Butler, were two of the most influential men in the country. During her childhood, her father, Thomas, was favoured and mentored by one of the most powerful women in Europe, Margaret of Austria, the aunt of the future Charles V.
Thomas was ambitious for all his children and saw that they had a good education, but by securing her a place at Margaret’s court in Mechelen, one of the most sophisticated courts in Europe, he opened up extraordinary opportunities for his daughter. In 1514, Thomas had further secured a position for Anne at the French court to serve Henry VIII’s sister, Mary, who had married the ageing French king, Louis XII. On 1 January 1515, Louis died, perhaps not unexpectedly, for Thomas very quickly secured Anne a position in the household of Louis’ daughter, the new French queen, Claude, wife of the recently anointed King Francis I. Anne spent seven years in France, and was able to see her father often during his many French embassies. She returned to England sometime in 1521–22, with a European education and decidedly French sense of sophistication, which immediately set her apart from her English counterparts. Her intelligence, charm and wit were very much her father’s traits, as was her talent for French. She took part in a court masque at Cardinal Wolsey’s residence at Whitehall; her role was Perseverance, which is related to Fortitude, one of the Four Cardinal virtues, but a strikingly apt role for Anne.
We have numerous portraits of Anne, all depicting a very different woman. Hers was a tall stature, with a slender neck and dark auburn hair and eyes, described as ‘black and beautiful’.
Mantel has reimagined Anne Boleyn, which has caused considerable controversy. Mantel’s Anne is a calculating being, with a ‘cold slick brain’ at work. Her eyes are not beautiful – ‘they are hungry’. Throughout the series, Cromwell never warms to Anne; he thinks he understands her, but then she seems to confuse him. There is distrust and distance between them. The real Anne is difficult to fathom – she was said to be tempestuous, intelligent, politically astute, beguiling and rash, but she was also generous, devout and loyal, and it is hard not to empathize with her. We have reinvented her over the centuries, and still continue to discover the real Anne, but Mantel has enhanced her more negative traits. Of course, Anne enters Cromwell’s life in Wolf Hall at a time when his beloved master is suffering banishment, humiliation and the destruction of his entire career, and Anne is one of the provocateurs: Cromwell, though he might not admit it, cannot be dispassionate about the downfall of his great friend, Wolsey. It was for all to see, Henry’s passionate yet irrational pursuit of Anne, his intent to woo her while still married. Unsurprisingly, she rejected his advances, he would have to marry her if he wanted to have her. In the series, Cromwell sees only calculation, Anne selling herself by the inch, but the real Anne had every right to demand more from Henry – she was the daughter of a well-respected man of court, she came from a good family, she was worth something. The fictional Anne captures the feeling perfectly: ‘I was always desired. But now I am valued. And that is a different thing, I find.’
FEAST DAYS AND HOLY DAYS
Henry’s matrimonial drama captivated the country – Henry had a queen, and a queen-in-waiting, and what must have felt like two rival courts. For the sake of appearances, Henry returned to his wife for important holidays, lest foreign eyes viewed his desire to divorce Katherine as anything other than a matter of conscience. Tudor lives were marked by holy days, saints’ days and feasts – in particular Christmas, Lady Day (25 March), Midsummer Day (24 June), Michaelmas (29 September) and Hallowtide. In the series, Mantel marks her story with these events, as they marked their calendars, and they serve as signposts, guiding us throug
h each year.
HALLOWTIDE
Hallowtide consisted of three feast days: All Hallows’ Eve on 31 October; All Hallows’ Day on 1 November; and All Souls’ Day on 2 November. It was believed to be the time when the physical and supernatural worlds were at their closest, and people would pray for the souls of their departed loved ones, attempting to shorten their time in purgatory. Soul cakes were baked by the wealthy on All Hallows’ Eve and were left with glasses of wine, ale or milk for spirits to enjoy. On All Souls’ Day, soul cakes were given to the poor, mainly children, who went ‘souling’ where they begged door-to-door for treats. In return for these treats, children would pray for the souls of the dead.
The year Cromwell’s wife and daughters die of the sweating sickness, Mantel’s Cromwell keeps vigil for the dead at Wolsey’s beloved Esher Palace, sitting awake, haunted by family members just beyond his reach. And the Hallowtide season again causes him to reflect that his loved ones are ‘dead to the autumn aroma of pine resin and apple candles, of soul cakes baking’. It is a time of reflection, as the barrier between this world and the next weakens, and Mantel’s Cromwell feels the faint touches of his daughter’s hands on the pages of his book.
TUDOR CHRISTMAS
While our modern Christmas celebration is heavily influenced by the Victorian traditions, we do still retain some traditions that the Tudors would have recognized. It began with Advent, a time of fasting, which lasted four weeks prior to Christmas. In Wolf Hall Cromwell prepares for the feast, storing expensive ingredients that hint at the wealth found within his household:
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