By the end of 1533, despite Anne and Henry being married and with a healthy child in the cradle, Barton and her supporters continued to attack the king, so Cromwell made his move.
In Wolf Hall Barton is brought to Cromwell who, together with Cranmer, Richard Rich and Thomas Audley, question her intensely. Before long, Barton has a rather convenient vision that ‘God willed her, by his heavenly messenger, that she should say that she never had revelation of God.’ And Cranmer reports that she confessed she had imagined everything to ‘obtain worldly praise’, though much of Barton’s confession comes to us from Cromwell’s notes. Cromwell and his colleagues needed to destroy her reputation, and on 23rd November Barton made a full confession before a crowd of several thousand, begging the king for mercy. She would repeat this performance through numerous towns around the country. Mantel’s Cromwell visits Barton while she is imprisoned, half hoping she will implicate more people – even Queen Katherine – in her confessions.
Once they were satisfied she had outlived her usefulness, Henry made an example of her. On 20 April 1534, Barton was taken from her cell in the Tower of London where she had been imprisoned for several months, and dragged behind a horse for 5 miles (8km), from the Tower to Tyburn, where she was hanged and then strangled to death in front of a large crowd who came to witness the spectacle. She was then decapitated, her head boiled and set on a spike on London Bridge. Whether her visions were genuine or contrived, Cromwell knew she was too much of a rallying point to be allowed to live.
CALAIS
While Barton was still alive and showing off her divine talents around the country, Henry and his councillors had begun to look for foreign support for Henry’s annulment and marriage to Anne. Options were limited as there was really only Charles V, who as Katherine’s nephew was not a contender as an ally, or Francis I. It had been almost 12 years since the two kings had come face to face in France at the Field of Cloth of Gold, but by 1531 they were both older and were not willing to spend entire fortunes on an event that could come to nothing, which is exactly what had happened all those years previously. But a meeting between Anne and Henry, and Francis and his queen, Eleanor, would be an important stepping stone showing all of Europe that Henry’s actions were legitimate, and that Anne should be his rightful queen. Immediately Henry faced an awkward issue: Eleanor was the sister of Charles V, and familial loyalty made a meeting between the two women almost impossible. Francis, who was trying to be helpful but missed the point entirely, suggested that he too bring his mistress, Madame de Vendôme, a suggestion that was immediately refused.
It was finally decided that Anne and her ladies would remain in Calais, while Henry and his male courtiers would ride on to meet Francis at Boulogne. Before they could leave, it was decided that Anne required a change in title in order to be presented in France as Henry’s future queen. In September 1532, Cromwell and the court witnessed her elevation in a grand ceremony at Windsor to the Marchioness of Pembroke, making her a peer in her own right.
For this important occasion Anne was determined to be attired as befitting a queen of England, and decided she would feel far closer to the throne if she were wearing the queen’s jewels, many of which were still in Katherine’s possession, and some that were actually gifts from Katherine’s mother. But these were technicalities, and Norfolk was sent to fetch them. At first Katherine declared that she would not give up her jewels to ‘ornament a person who is the scandal of Christendom’. But if it was an express command, she would relinquish them. Perhaps she imagined Henry would not go so far, but the command came swiftly. By late 1532 Cromwell was flourishing. Mantel’s Cromwell marvels at how far he has come:
Anne refers everything to him; she says, laughing, ‘Cromwell, you are my man.’ The wind is set fair and the tide is running for him. He can feel the tug of it under his feet.
The English landed in Calais on Friday 11 October, and five days later, Norfolk, Thomas Boleyn and group of gentlemen met with ‘the great mayster of Fraunce’, Anne, duc de Montmorency, in Boulogne before returning to Calais.
Historically Anne was frustrated at being left behind: Francis had no women in his train and therefore Anne and her ladies could not be present. But it was Anne, with her perfect command of French, her charm and vivaciousness, and her knowledge of the French court and its king, who would be an asset at any French meeting.
Francis and Henry return to Calais where they attend a lavish supper for both courts. After the feast, Anne and her ladies surprise the court, emerging in gowns of ‘straunge fashion, made of clothe of gold’. Mantel’s Anne is seductive, enticing Francis to sit in a window bay to talk. There is something almost inappropriate about her version, seen through Cromwell’s eyes, and he enlists Norfolk to tear Anne and the French king away from one another:
‘My lord, fetch your niece away. She has done enough diplomacy. Our king is jealous.’
This, of course, is partially artistic license. By all accounts, Anne spoke with great affection for France, of her time there, and implored Francis to support their cause, but Mantel is setting the scene for us. Cromwell watches as an infuriated Anne is dragged away by her uncle, with Henry watching in angry satisfaction that she will be punished by her family for wanton behaviour.
Cromwell then hears doors slamming, voices raised. Mary Shelton, a cousin of the Boleyns and Anne’s lady-in-waiting, rushes out of her rooms in search of a Bible – Anne is demanding one. Cromwell meets Mary Boleyn in the gardens, who tells him that at last Anne and Henry have consummated their relationship. Cromwell asks what the Bible was needed for:
‘To swear him. Before witnesses. Me. Norris. He made a binding promise. They are married in God’s sight. And he swears he will marry her again in England and crown her queen when spring comes.’
Exactly when Henry and Anne first slept together has filled countless pages of history books – no other consummation, save Katherine of Aragon’s, has been so scrutinized – but it was not the result of a jealous quarrel between the couple. After a thoroughly successful series of meetings and banquets, the English had planned to sail from Calais to Dover, but the winds had whipped up the waters of the English Channel and the ships turned back. They were stranded for eight days, as the harbour was besieged by storms and mist. It is believed that during this time, the couple consummated their relationship, and upon their return to England, they were secretly wed, either in late 1532 or early 1533.
A WAY FORWARD
In the hall of Austin Friars, Mantel’s Cromwell is having his coat of arms painted on the wall. The German painter is painting a rose, lions, and two blackbirds – the blackbirds are Wolsey’s emblem. By 1533, in Mantel’s words, Cromwell is minister of everything. He certainly was a prominent member of the council and at court, and seemed the ideal royal servant. ‘Sometimes it is a solace to me,’ Henry says, ‘not to have to talk and talk. You were born to understand me, perhaps.’
In the series, Cromwell conducts all business and oversees anything of importance; he stands quietly as a witness to Anne and Henry’s secret marriage in England, confirming the promises they made in Calais. He spies Mary Boleyn, who holds up a hand, her fingers an inch apart. It is the only sign so far that Anne is pregnant.
In Wolf Hall, Cromwell has become indispensable to Anne, but he remains wary and distant. She will forever in his eyes be a creature of calculation, and Mantel’s Cromwell often makes references to an unsavoury reputation with men, a reputation the real Anne did not have prior to the accusations of 1536. Historically, Anne and Cromwell’s relationship is a complex and ever-shifting one; they are politically and religiously aligned, but there is no evidence that the two were particularly close. But one wonders if the ever-cautious Cromwell was hesitant to get too close to the Boleyn circle – they were now all in uncharted territory, Henry was technically a bigamist, and the child Anne carried risked being seen as illegitimate. As Rafe Sadler quietly reminds Cromwell: ‘... the whole history of the king’s marriage tells us a chil
d in the womb is not an heir in the cradle.’
TRIUMPH
Henry’s hand was forced by Anne’s condition, which was a blessing in disguise. When the Archbishop of Canterbury, William Warham, died in 1532, it left a vacancy in the powerful diocese, and Henry and Anne knew exactly who should fill it. Henry breezily nominated ‘a nobody’, in Rome’s eyes – Thomas Cranmer – and Clement, eager to please Henry, quickly gave his consent for Cranmer to be consecrated as archbishop, and the papal bulls were drawn up. Chapuys hastily wrote to Clement, advising him to delay the bulls until after the case had reached a verdict in Rome, so that Cranmer’s involvement could be neutralized and the matter not brought to England. Chapuys, who rarely missed a trick, also informed Clement just who Cranmer was, but he was ignored. Matters moved with impressive speed. In late March the bulls for the archbishopric of Canterbury arrived, and in the first week of April, Parliament passed the bill Cromwell had masterminded, the Act in Restraint of Appeals, meaning that any verdict concerning the king’s marriage could not be challenged in Rome. Mantel’s Cromwell visits Katherine, still fighting her husband. Katherine can be as fierce as Anne, but she is not sharp; rather, she has the strength of her conviction, and as Cromwell marvels, she is unyielding:
She may smile, but she doesn’t yield an inch. Julius Caesar would have had more compunction. Hannibal.
While Katherine stubbornly waited for a verdict from Rome, Archbishop Thomas Cranmer in his new role pronounced Henry to be divorced from his queen of 24 years, in a small trial at Dunstable Priory in Bedfordshire in May. It was remarkably quick; Katherine was now relegated to the status of Princess Dowager. Anne’s coronation was planned for the last days of June.
In Wolf Hall, ‘he, Thomas Cromwell, is now running everything, including the weather’. London witnessed three days of glorious celebrations and the main event, the coronation on 1 June 1533, was magnificent – and likely exhausting for the six months pregnant Anne.
Mantel’s Cromwell visits Chapuys, who has secluded himself in defiance of the coronation. Historically, though Chapuys found the whole thing in poor taste, he was out on the Thames, a guest at a banquet held on the German ambassador’s barge where they drank a toast to the Emperor as the guns of the Tower fired. Not everyone approved, but no one was going to miss it.
PRINCE[ESS]
It was now a waiting game. The proclamations were carefully drawn up, ready to be sent to all the corners of Europe, to announce the birth of a prince, which would prove that God smiled on the King of England. The letters all confidently announced a prince, and in Wolf Hall, it is Cromwell who suggests the scribes leave a space at the end of ‘prince’: ‘so if need be you can squash in ... But they look at him as if he’s a traitor, so he leaves off.’
Of course, the baby Anne gave birth to on 7 September was not the long-awaited prince, but a princess. Henry and Anne rally and put on a brave face: they were still young, and surely sons would follow. Cromwell thinks very little of the newborn and in The Mirror and the Light even refers to her as the ginger pig, rather unkindly (not every child is Grace Cromwell). But Anne, seemingly softer, is infatuated with her daughter, longing to nurse her, which is not part of the royal custom: queens are there to breed, not feed.
PERSONAL SPHERES
Throughout the rest of 1533 and 1534 we see more of the Cromwell household, so different from our first introduction. Cromwell is wealthy, powerful and influential. Austin Friars and his house in Stepney continue to host friends and patrons. Though the ghosts linger, the living children we saw at the beginning of Wolf Hall are now grown up; they are adults with their own desires and ambitions.
RAFE SADLER
Cromwell would have known Sadler’s father, Henry, during their time serving the Grey family, and from the age of seven, Sadler was placed in Cromwell’s care as a ward. In the Cromwell household he was taught to read and write, not only in English but also in French, Latin and Greek. By the time he was 19, Sadler was one of Cromwell’s right-hand men and served as his secretary – who better to have as a mentor?
Sadler is a constant character throughout the trilogy, and we witness the transition from a young boy to a gentleman. Sadler married Ellen Barre, Cromwell’s young laundress, whose husband had run off to Ireland. Despite this minor issue, the couple married and Ellen bore him seven children. Historically, Sadler survived Cromwell’s fall and enjoyed a highly successful career at court as a Privy Councillor and diplomat, but he was dedicated to his mentor’s memory, much like Cromwell had been to Wolsey. He remained close to Richard and Gregory Cromwell throughout his life and actively worked against those he considered responsible for Cromwell’s death, in particular Gardiner and Norfolk. It was also most likely Sadler who took possession of Holbein’s famed portrait of Thomas Cromwell, ensuring its survival through the centuries.
GREGORY CROMWELL
Gregory is often dismissed as an unintelligent, naive young man who did not possess any of his father’s intellectual or political brilliance, but MacCulloch argues that this myth stems from a miscalculation of his age. Most likely born in 1520, he was a young boy when he struggled with his studies, not a teenager. Cromwell was close to his son and was determined to provide him with a fine education, sending him to a Benedictine nunnery run by the Prioress Margaret Vernon before he was sent to Cambridge, where he would be tutored by various scholars. Gregory also became accomplished in physical pursuits, including jousting and hawking.
As a young man at court, Gregory was well liked and respected, with the Duke of Norfolk praising him as a ‘wise quick piece’, and three humanist scholars dedicated their works and translations to him. Gregory had been moulded into the ideal courtier and he would prove to be a credit to his father, though he would not follow in his father’s political footsteps, preferring a quieter life away from court and its deadly politics.
RENAISSANCE INFLUENCES
Renaissance thought and cultural expression were inspired by the revival of classical learning and the flowering of cultural expression. From the 14th to the 17th century, following the culturally conservative Medieval period, the rich flourishing of philosophy, science and the arts spawned the Humanist Movement, an ethical system that advanced the concept of the dignity, freedom and the value of human beings; a shift of emphasis from religious to secular expression.
This was at the heart of the Renaissance, which spread throughout Europe, reaching England during Henry VIII’s reign. It was accompanied by an explosion of trade, exploration and diplomatic exchanges that reached from Europe to the Ottoman and Persian empires. The creation of the printing press by Johannes Gutenberg in 1440 revolutionized the dissemination of Renaissance ideals to educated Europeans. Monarchs strove to become a Renaissance Prince, accomplished in the arts and physical pursuits; popular literary themes centred on the art of being a Renaissance Man. The courts of Europe entertained some of the greatest names of the age, including Leonardo Da Vinci, Michelangelo, Niccolò Machiavelli and Desiderius Erasmus. Throughout his life, Cromwell would become acquainted with some of the voices of the period who helped shape Renaissance culture.
THOMAS WYATT
Thomas Wyatt, poet, courtier and ambassador, is arguably one of the most important voices of the English Renaissance, whose poetry marked the beginning of the sonnet tradition in England.
Born in 1503 in Kent, Wyatt was the son of a war hero – Sir Henry Wyatt had been an early supporter of Henry Tudor, and was held prisoner by Richard III and presumably tortured. Their family crest proudly featured a ‘barnacle’, an instrument of torture used during his imprisonment. His injuries are still apparent at the time of Wolf Hall:
‘It is forty years, more, since the Tower, but his smashed-up jaw still stiffens and plagues him with pain.’
His son, Thomas Wyatt, followed in his father’s footsteps and worked his way up at court, beginning with his appointment as Clerk of the King’s Jewels. In 1525 he was made Esquire of the Body, and was well placed to be picked a
s an ambassador for foreign postings. But Wyatt is primarily known for his poetry, and his relationship with Anne Boleyn. Mantel’s Wyatt is somewhat ambiguous when discussing the extent of his relationship with Anne, and while there are many historians who argue there is no evidence that Anne and Wyatt were lovers, several of Wyatt’s poems suggest that he held unrequited feelings for her. Henry never quite took to Wyatt, but his skill as an ambassador was undeniable, so he was often sent on lengthy diplomatic missions to Spain, France and Italy.
In Wolf Hall, Henry Wyatt begs Cromwell to take his son under his wing, and to be a mentor and father figure to him. The real Cromwell was close to Wyatt, an ally and patron, and their relationship would span Cromwell’s life. Cromwell is fond of the young man, often rescuing him from complicated situations, many of which were his own doing. Following Cromwell’s execution Wyatt wrote an eloquent verse that laid bare his grief at losing someone he considered a friend and mentor.
For Mantel’s Wyatt, ‘nothing is ever clear, and no truth a single truth’. It is this Wyatt who plants a seed in Cromwell’s mind, one of many: ‘The worst of it is her hinting, her boasting almost, that she says no to me but yes to others –’ Wyatt thinks nothing of it, but Cromwell files the information away. The real Wyatt, however, remained steadfastly loyal to the Boleyns, with whom he was close.
While Wyatt is best remembered for his poetry – influenced by Italian styles, drawing on various stanza forms and measures – he also wrote several biting satires on life at the Tudor court, portraying courtly life as an empty façade and its participants as lacking moral integrity, intent on enriching themselves and their families, often at the expense of others. Virtue was only a façade, marriage was merely to move up in the world, and it was every man for himself. Wyatt might not be too far off the mark at times, but his was not the only view of the courtier and courtly literature.
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