Wolf Hall Companion

by Lauren Mackay

  In an audience with a volatile Henry VIII, one of many in which Henry’s treatment of Katherine of Aragon and obsession with Anne Boleyn is discussed, the king asks Chapuys what he thinks his motives are for divorcing Katherine and the break with Rome. Chapuys responds:

  Kill a cardinal? Divide your country? Split the church? ‘Seems extravagant,’ Chapuys murmurs.

  Henry’s reaction is dramatic: he berates Chapuys, bursting into angry tears. Mantel observes:

  He is a game little terrier, the Emperor’s man; but even he knows that when you’ve made a king cry it’s time to back off.

  In 1533, a fire devastated the ambassador’s rather fine lodgings by the Tower. The blaze was so fierce that neither Chapuys nor his household had any time to save valuables. Chapuys lost everything: his gold plate, clothes, furniture from Italy, which he had prized, and sentimental personal effects. But new lodgings were quickly found, and Cromwell likely played a part in finding the new house, which was a stone’s throw from one of his own luxurious and favourite houses.

  Their masters may have had a strained relationship – Katherine of Aragon and Anne Boleyn were the main points of contention – but the ambassador and Cromwell remained firm friends. Mantel illustrates this beautifully:

  Officially, he and the ambassador are barely on speaking terms. Unofficially, Chapuys sends him a vat of good olive oil. He retaliates with capons. The ambassador himself arrives, followed by a retainer carrying a parmesan cheese.

  When they are in private, they dispense with their ‘masks of dissimulation’ as Chapuys called it. Through Chapuys’ dispatches, sometimes paraphrased by Mantel, we are offered a glimpse of Cromwell’s sly charm. When discussing the Emperor’s possible response to Henry’s preparation for war towards the end of Wolf Hall, Cromwell says:

  ‘... Oh, I know his coffers are bottomless. The Emperor could ruin us all if he liked.’ He smiles. ‘But what good would that do the Emperor?’

  As the years progressed, the real Chapuys evolved at court as his mission shifted from defending Katherine to protecting her daughter Mary, which brought him even more in line with Cromwell.

  THE PRIVY COUNCIL AT WESTMINSTER

  Geoffrey Elton described the Privy Council as ‘the instrument of policy making, the arena of political conflict, and the ultimate means for dispensing the king’s justice.’ Under Cromwell, the once-large Privy Council was significantly reformed and restructured, with many nobles losing their position. Cromwell dominated the council, but attempted to build a power base of allies and those he considered friends to balance the remaining detractors – it was a rare but grave miscalculation.

  THOMAS AUDLEY

  Described in Wolf Hall as a man whose ‘convictions are flexible’, Thomas Audley (sometimes spelled Audeley) was one of the most adaptable men of the period. Someone who seemed to take nothing personally, and expected others to feel the same, he changed allegiances without a qualm.

  Born in Essex in 1488, he was the son-in-law of Cromwell’s first employer, Thomas Grey. It is believed that Audley first attended Cambridge to study law, before entering Middle Temple, London. He also pursued a career in Parliament, joining as an MP for Essex and becoming a Justice of the Peace while climbing the ladder at court, being appointed Groom of the Chamber in 1527, answering to the Lord Chamberlain. Audley had been a personal and political supporter of Cardinal Wolsey since entering his service in 1527, where he met Cromwell, who called Audley ‘oon of my grettest frendes’. Audley was elected Speaker of the House of Commons, and presided over the Reformation Parliament, which sat from 1529 until 1536. He was a firm advocate of abolishing papal jurisdiction and was instrumental in the dissolution of the monasteries, from which he benefited enormously. Audley supported Henry’s annulment and was part of the Boleyns’ sphere. When Thomas More resigned his position, it was Cromwell who recommended Audley be appointed as Keeper of the Great Seal.

  In 1533, Audley reached the pinnacle of his career, being appointed Lord Chancellor, and he and Cromwell worked together for years as a political dream team. But, when Cromwell lost favour, it was Audley who was instrumental in creating the act of attainder against his former friend. Audley proved that his loyalty to the king trumped all else.

  STEPHEN GARDINER

  Stephen Gardiner was a complex figure, historically as inscrutable as he is in the series. A man of contradictions – he was no fan of Anne Boleyn, protested Henry’s break with Rome, and yet he defended Henry’s title as Supreme Head of the Church, which may have added to his reputation. Several contemporaries described Gardiner and their depictions seem to correspond. He was by many accounts (including his own) crafty, wily and cunning. The son of a clothmaker in Bury St Edmunds, Suffolk, Gardiner transcended his humble beginnings to attend Cambridge, where he excelled in classical studies and became devoted to the study of canon and civil law. Rumours always swirled around Gardiner’s lineage. It was said that Gardiner was the illegitimate grandson of Jasper Tudor, Henry VIII’s great-uncle, making him a cousin of the king, if the stories were indeed true.

  But his entrée into the Tudor court came with a position in the household of the Duke of Norfolk, serving as a tutor to his son, before being appointed as a secretary to Cardinal Wolsey sometime in 1524. Both Gardiner and Cromwell were diligent and hard-working, and the Cardinal relied on them considerably, but they were bitter rivals, an enmity which began in the Cardinal’s household, though the reasons are never completely clear. Mantel supposes envy to be the cause:

  Master Stephen resents everything about his own situation ... that he’s the king’s unacknowledged cousin ... that he was put into the church ... that someone else has late-night talks with the cardinal, to whom he is confidential secretary.

  The two men would remain diametrically opposed politically, with Gardiner protesting Henry’s break with Rome and rejecting Cromwell’s radical attempts to reform the Church. Unlike Cromwell, Gardiner’s expertise lay in canon law, which would make him indispensable to Henry VIII and his ‘great matter’. Gardiner was an accomplished diplomat, and in 1527 he was appointed to a commission alongside Thomas More to arrange a treaty with the French and to assist French troops fighting Charles V in Italy. He also accompanied Cardinal Wolsey on his important diplomatic mission to France, to gain French favour for Henry’s divorce from Katherine. Wolsey’s reliance on Gardiner was evident when he rejected orders from Henry for Gardiner to return to England for fresh instructions. Wolsey insisted that he could not spare Gardiner, who was the only instrument he had in advancing Henry’s cause.

  Wolsey also sent Gardiner on a mission to Orvieto, Italy, where Pope Clement had taken refuge following the sack of Rome, with the unenviable task of trying to secure permission to allow a papal legate to preside over an English trial alongside Wolsey.

  Despite the Cardinal’s favour and patronage, it is suggested in Mantel’s series that Gardiner showed little loyalty to the Cardinal, though evidence shows that he served Wolsey to the best of his ability. When Wolsey fell in 1529, Gardiner replaced his former master as the king’s Secretary, and in 1531 Gardiner was appointed to Cardinal Wolsey’s former bishopric, Winchester, one of the country’s wealthiest dioceses. However, Gardiner’s contradictory attitude towards the divorce and Henry’s break with Rome meant that he would struggle to retain Henry’s favour and was never trusted completely.

  Gardiner showed every sign of rising, but he often shot himself in the foot, making terrible miscalculations. The first occurred in March 1532, when he led the charge against the Supplication of the Commons against the Ordinaries, which was a list of grievances against the English church by parliament that had been drafted by Cromwell. Gardiner objected to the clauses, writing a personal defence to the king, infuriating Henry:

  Henry rages about Gardiner: disloyalty, he shouts, ingratitude. Can he remain my Secretary, when he has set himself up in direct opposition to me?

  Gardiner, perhaps, did not anticipate Henry’s anger, but he likely go
t the message when the Archbishop of Canterbury, William Warham, died in 1533, and the hopeful Gardiner was overlooked in favour of the man he had introduced to court, Thomas Cranmer. He struggles to regain his influence at court, losing his position as Secretary to the King in 1534, to none other than Thomas Cromwell. Mantel’s Cromwell hopes to see the last of Gardiner, but as the latter complained of Cromwell – that he had a habit of resurfacing – Cromwell would find the same of his enemy.

  With Cromwell’s demise in 1540, Gardiner set his sights on Cranmer, who, unlike his fallen friend, had powerful allies in the Seymour brothers. Gardiner was ultimately unable to reconcile his own Catholic beliefs with the reforms sweeping the country under Edward VI, for which he was imprisoned and deprived of his bishopric. He must have felt a deep sense of relief when he was released during Mary’s reign and pleased to see England restored to Catholicism – and Cranmer destroyed.

  THOMAS ‘CALL ME RISLEY’ WRIOTHESLEY

  The London-born Thomas Wriothesley was the grandson of John Writh, a Garter King of Arms, and son of William Wryth, a York herald. At some point his father and uncle chose to change the name from ‘Wryth’ to ‘Wriothesley’, believed to be a more noble line.

  Wriothesley studied civil law at Cambridge and was a protégé of Stephen Gardiner, whom he followed into Wolsey’s household, where he also met Thomas Cromwell. In 1529 he was appointed as clerk of the Cofferer of the Household, moving up to an appointment as one of the Clerks of the Signet for Gardiner. He then worked for Cromwell when he replaced Gardiner as Secretary, and whatever his loyalties may have been to the latter, he became a firm member of Cromwell’s camp. In the series, Cromwell goes to great lengths to win Wriothesley, at first only intending to use him to spy on Gardiner, but they develop a close connection, with Cromwell trusting Wriothesley with sensitive tasks over the years. Mantel places Wriothesley in Cromwell’s home on numerous occasions, detailing scenes of families coming together, in particular Christmas of 1535, when Wriothesley attends Christmas at Cromwell’s house with his wife and young daughter. Wriothesley would remain one of his right-hand men, or so Cromwell believed. Wriothesley’s ability to switch horses saw his career flourish even more post-Cromwell, becoming one of Henry’s leading councillors.

  TURNING POINT

  On 5 January 1531, an extraordinary papal brief reached court, stating that, at Katherine’s request, the pope forbade Henry to remarry ‘until the decision of the case, and declares that if he does all issue will be illegitimate. It forbids any one in England, of ecclesiastical or secular dignity, universities, parliaments, courts of law, &c., from making any decision in the affair, the judgement of which is reserved for the Holy See. The whole under pain of excommunication.’

  THOMAS CRANMER

  Henry, with Cromwell by his side, had already begun to consider other options. Wolsey’s failure to secure an annulment in the legatine trial opened the door to others to try more innovative approaches, and it was Stephen Gardiner who first drew Henry’s attention to a young theologian, Thomas Cranmer, who, like everyone else throughout the country, had followed the legatine trial at Blackfriars. The story goes that Gardiner, Cranmer and Edward Fox, Gardiner’s ambassadorial colleague, spoke of the ‘great matter’ over supper one evening, and Cranmer advised that the problem with the annulment was its approach. Cranmer suggested that it was not an issue of canon law, but a theological issue. He believed that the theologians of universities both in England and abroad should be consulted on the legitimacy of Henry’s marriage, which Fox relayed to the king. Cranmer was sent to Durham House, Thomas Boleyn’s residence in the Strand, where he could have time to write, and access to books, suggesting Thomas Boleyn’s library was well stocked. We know of Cranmer’s loyalty to Anne, but he was also deeply devoted to Thomas Boleyn, remaining a trusted and loyal confidant until the latter’s death in 1539.

  As Diarmaid MacCulloch writes, Cromwell and Cranmer were linked by two ultimately incompatible ideals, loyalty to the king and their passion for an evangelical reformation, yet MacCulloch believes that theirs was an uncommonly close and sincere friendship, though this has been disputed by other historians. Cranmer attended Cambridge in 1503 and was elected to a fellowship at Jesus College, which he had to relinquish when he married a young pregnant widow named Joan. Joan would not survive the birth, and while Jesus College restored Cranmer to his fellowship, it likely felt like a hollow reward. Cranmer entered the church and quickly developed a reputation as an astute theologian, but he also began to entertain notions which many would view as heretical. He often met with a group of scholars who discussed Martin Luther’s teachings and were vocal in their dissatisfaction with the abuse of the clergy. Some of the men with whom Cranmer mixed were also known to Cromwell and play a part in Mantel’s series, including William Tyndale, the English scholar who would, in a sense, become the face of the English Reformation, famed for his translation of the New Testament into English, and Thomas Bilney, nicknamed ‘Little Bilney’ due to his short stature.

  SUPREMACY

  By 1531, Henry had secured the scholarly opinions of the various universities of Europe, which Thomas More presented to the House of Commons in March. It was made into a book called Censurae academiarum which Cranmer translated into English, providing a snapshot of scholarly opinion, though it was by no means a comprehensive survey.

  The events of 1531 are only alluded to in Mantel’s series but they are significant. Parliament’s main goal was to secure a mandate to consider the ‘manifold abuses of the clergy’ – Henry charged the members of the English Church with praemunire with a hefty fine of £100,000 to buy a pardon.

  When Mantel’s Cromwell visits Queen Katherine and her daughter Mary, she is well informed on the matter. She reflects on the charge made against Cardinal Wolsey and compares it to the latest attack on the English clergy and the fine that was imposed alongside it. Cromwell responds, ‘Not a fine. We call it a benevolence.’ Henry demanded more, insisting that the clergy recognize that they held no jurisdiction independently of the crown.

  Katherine and Mary are also aware that the clergy have bestowed on Henry the title of ‘singular protector, supreme lord, and supreme head of the English church and clergy’. But while the bishops acknowledged Henry as Supreme Head of the Church and Clergy in England, a limiting clause, ‘as far as the law of Christ allows’, was added to Henry’s new title.

  In Wolf Hall, Cromwell is visiting the pair to inform them that Katherine and Mary are to be sent to the More, a palace in Hertfordshire, once owned by Wolsey. What Cromwell does not know is that Henry has already decided to separate mother and daughter.

  MASTER CROMWELL

  By 1532, Cromwell was everywhere at court, but had no official post. Mantel imagines a frank conversation between Cromwell and Mary Boleyn, who is to convey Cromwell’s private ambitions to the Lady Anne. He wants an official role in the royal household:

  She nods. ‘She made Tom Wyatt a poet. She made Harry Percy a madman. I’m sure she has some ideas about what to make you.’

  In April of 1532, Cromwell was appointed Master of the Jewels and in July appointed as Clerk of the Hanaper, part of the office of the Chancery, though whether this was Anne’s doing is debatable. Cromwell had become a central figure at court and a constant presence at Henry’s side.

  In March 1532, Cromwell’s Supplication of the Commons against the Ordinaries, which Gardiner so opposed, was delivered to Parliament and the clergy, alleging that the English clergy’s oaths to the Pope were a violation of their oaths to the crown. Parliament and the clergy reluctantly agreed rather than face charges of treason, but the fallout was immediate. Thomas More resigned as Lord Chancellor, unable to endorse the direction in which Henry was leading the church. He was not alone.

  ELIZABETH BARTON: THE HOLY MAID OF KENT

  Elizabeth Barton was something of a mystery. She was born sometime in 1506, and served in the household of Thomas Cobb, a farmer and land agent of the Archbishop of Canterbu
ry, William Warham. She was destined to live an unremarkable life, but in 1525 she began to suffer from fits, falling into trances and having visions. She would speak for hours about the church, heaven and hell, and began to make prophecies, which was a sure way to gain attention. Soon enough, her fame reached the ears of Archbishop Warham, who, upon hearing of some of her miraculous visions, placed Barton as a nun in the Benedictine priory of St Sepulchre in Canterbury, under his protection. In 1528, Barton announced she wanted to meet Cardinal Wolsey, at that time still the most powerful prelate in England – her motives may be guessed at. Wolsey agreed to meet her, and while her message was hardly what he wanted to hear – that God had revealed to her that Henry’s divorce from Katherine was contrary to His will, he was impressed enough to arrange a meeting between Barton and the king. By now Barton was on a roll – upon meeting with Henry in person, she boldly declared that an angel had appeared to her and told her that if he married Anne, he would risk the wrath of God. Henry good-naturedly ignored her words, but the next year she had another vision, which she shared with thousands of followers, before deciding Henry needed to hear it in person, which he would whether he wished to or not. It seemed like Anne and Henry could not venture anywhere near Canterbury without coming across Barton or her followers.

  In 1532, Henry, Anne and the court travelled to the coast on their way to Calais, and they stopped briefly in Canterbury. While walking in a monastery garden, Barton intercepted them, failing to show any deference. Mantel places Cromwell in Henry’s entourage as Barton accosts the couple to deliver her crushing prediction. ‘And if you enter into a form of marriage with this unworthy woman, you will not reign seven months.’