Wolf Hall Companion

by Lauren Mackay

  Notice how he speaks of Jane: so humble, so shy. Even Archbishop Cranmer must recognise the portrait, the black reverse portrait of the present queen.

  THE FALL OF THE BOLEYNS

  In his seven years at court, Chapuys had never met Anne, so it was of great interest to everyone attending Easter Mass of 1536 how they would react when they inevitably crossed paths. It is a great moment in history and Mantel has her take on it:

  Anne turns her head. A pointed smile: and to the enemy, she makes a reverence, a gracious inclination of her jewelled neck. Chapuys screws up his eyes tight, and bows to the concubine.

  Mantel’s Chapuys worries about how the Emperor will react when the exchange is reported to him, but this is not quite what happened. We know that it was Chapuys who first bowed to Anne as she walked past, and what surprised him was Anne’s reaction: ‘I must say that she was affable enough on the occasion for on my being placed behind the door by which she entered the chapel, she turned round to return the reverence which I made her when she passed.’

  We do not know exactly why Anne did this, but it is possible that, with Katherine gone and the French clearly no longer willing to be allies, Anne had been advised to show some favour to Chapuys, but more importantly, through him she would show respect to Charles V. In Bring Up the Bodies, the explanation is simpler: Henry has forced Chapuys to acknowledge his second marriage:

  ... to a queen whom he no longer wants. ... Now, if he likes, he can let it go.

  Cromwell has filed away all the rumours, all the snide comments and tidbits fed to him over the years about Anne. He sits at his desk and shakes them all out, laying them in front of him. He has names: Henry Norris, Mark Smeaton, Francis Weston, William Brereton and George Boleyn.

  In Bring Up the Bodies, Cromwell meets privately with Thomas and George Boleyn, flatly telling them that Anne is finished, and will likely be sent to a nunnery. Thomas seems to understand and accept the situation, while George bristles and refuses. Historically, no one saw Cromwell coming.

  The subject of Anne’s downfall is something of a crowded field – every historian and historical fiction author has their theory, resulting in a multitude of demises. That Anne and her co-accused were innocent cannot be disputed, for it was clearly an engineered downfall, but the truth of the plot and who was behind the machinations is almost impossible to determine. Certainly, the real Thomas Cromwell seems a likely suspect, but what we may never know is whether he acted against her of his own accord, or on the orders of Henry VIII. We do know that throughout 1536, Anne and Cromwell quarrelled on several occasions, with Anne threatening Cromwell that she would like to see ‘his head off his shoulders’.

  Mantel follows the trail of evidence, from Henry’s accident through Anne’s spats with Cromwell, and into April 1536. On Passion Sunday Anne’s chaplain John Skip delivered an extraordinary sermon, declaring that the king needed to resist evil counsellors who tempted him to ignoble actions, and using the story of the Hamman, advisor to the Persian king Xerxes and an enemy of his wife, Esther. The lengthy allegory ended with Hamman being executed. No one failed to make the link.

  There are other events to consider, namely Cromwell and Chapuys’ ambitions for a rapprochement between Henry and Charles V, now that Katherine was no longer a sticking point. On Easter Monday, Cromwell met Henry, arriving at court before the king was even awake, so eager was he to report his meeting with Chapuys and the letters from Charles. Henry was receptive and pleased by Charles’ words and looked forward to healing the rift between the two. It seemed as if an Imperial alliance was a real possibility, but while Henry had been receptive earlier that day, by the evening his mind had changed entirely.

  Cromwell, who had worked hard for Imperial peace, was accused of making his own policy, in cahoots with Chapuys. Henry railed at both men so violently that they both made quick exits.

  Mantel draws on Chapuys’ own report, in which he ponders whether it was Anne who poisoned Henry against the proposal of peace. Chapuys adds that Cromwell disappears for several days, sick from fear, or regrouping. Mantel imagines the conversation between Henry and Cromwell before the latter departs, making it clear who she believes set things in motion:

  He is here to take instructions. Get me Jane: Jane, so kind, who sighs across the palate like sweet butter. Deliver me from bitterness, from gall.

  GATHERING EVIDENCE

  Cromwell invites Elizabeth Somerset, Countess of Worcester, to a meeting. A lady-in-waiting of the queen’s, she is in a difficult situation, pregnant with a child who was not her husband’s. Historically, we know that Elizabeth becomes involved when she is chastised by her brother, courtier Sir Anthony Browne, for her loose living, and she retorts that her behaviour is nothing compared to that of the queen. She would turn out to be one of the main witnesses against Anne, but Mantel has changed the narrative slightly. Meeting with Cromwell, Elizabeth voices the same defence and starts a revolution, with the women of Anne’s bedchamber clamouring over each other to accuse the queen of immoral behaviour with her male courtiers. We do know that several of Anne’s ladies would bear witness against her, but not necessarily their motives. But one name appears more often in the narrative of the Boleyns’ downfall than any other: Jane, George Boleyn’s wife.

  Jane Rochford is a malevolent character in the trilogy, unhappily married, and a disgruntled member of the Boleyn family. She seems loyal but is also triumphant when any member of the family suffers humiliation. She whispers poison in Cromwell’s ear about Anne and the Boleyns – at first Cromwell recognizes that she is lonely and ‘breeding a savage heart’, but throughout the years he appreciates the intelligence, and will use it. Surprisingly, some of Cromwell’s lengthiest interactions in the trilogy are with her, though theirs is a curious relationship based on the currency of information.

  JANE ROCHFORD

  Like the Boleyns, Jane hailed from Norfolk, the daughter of Henry Parker, Lord Morley, a well-respected translator, ambassador and member of the Privy Council. Jane first entered Katherine of Aragon’s household as a lady-in-waiting, and, in 1524, her father began negotiations with the Boleyn family for a match between Jane and George Boleyn. Jane’s older sister, Margaret, had married one of Thomas Boleyn’s nephews, John Shelton, which had been a successful alliance between the two families. In almost all fictional portrayals, the marriage seems to have been forced on two unwilling participants and it is popular to portray George as verbally and even physically abusive towards his wife, but there is no evidence to suggest George and Jane were miserable throughout their marriage. Mantel draws on the traditional portrayal of Jane, who takes a perverse pleasure in sowing doubt in Anne’s mind and deliberately provoking her, and has no qualms sharing with Cromwell what goes on in Anne’s chambers.

  Mantel has Jane suggesting what would become the extraordinary charge of incest, telling Cromwell that Anne and George are lovers. Of course there is no evidence of such an accusation, in fact it seems to have stemmed from Elizabeth Somerset. George was too powerful to be allowed to survive; the charge may well say more about Cromwell than anyone else.

  Jane is usually instrumental in Anne and George’s downfall in the fictional portrayals, though she makes no appearance in any of the extant records, nor is she listed as giving evidence. Jane has become a scapegoat, unfairly vilified. But in Mantel’s series, she keeps the intrigue bubbling along and advises Cromwell to where to begin.

  AN INVITATION

  The real Mark Smeaton was a Flemish musician within Anne’s household, and there is no evidence he and Cromwell knew each other in any way. Mantel, however, has linked their narratives, placing Smeaton in Cardinal Wolsey’s household, an arrogant young man who mocks the Cardinal’s downfall and treats Cromwell as an inferior.

  We know that Cromwell invited Smeaton to his house in Stepney to be interrogated, with many historians suggesting the musician was tortured to confess to having an affair with Anne. No reliable contemporary accounts state that Smeaton was torture
d and he seemed in good health on the scaffold, as much as one can be. Mantel clearly does not believe the allegation of torture, and has Cromwell coax Smeaton into a boastful confession, naming two other men as rivals – Francis Weston and Henry Norris – which he immediately regrets:

  Five rash minutes of boasting, in one ungratified life and, like nervous tradesmen, the gods at once send in their account.

  Smeaton admitted to having had sex with the queen and sources tell us that Cromwell wrote at once to the king outlining ‘Smeaton’s confession’.

  Despite (or due to) the machinations moving below the surface, Henry decided to proceed with the May Day jousts, presided over by Anne Boleyn in her last public display as queen. But Henry’s eye was on Henry Norris, his Groom of the Stool. We know that in the middle of the tournament, Henry left abruptly, taking Henry Norris with him. Norris was accused of intercourse with the queen, which he indignantly refused. He was dropped off at the Tower and it is enough to bring Anne in herself.

  Anne was at Greenwich watching a tennis tournament on 2nd May when she received instructions to meet with the Privy Council. Anne stood before her uncle Norfolk, Sir William FitzWilliam and Sir William Paulet, who outlined charges of adultery with three men, for which she would be taken to the Tower. Anne was kept in her apartments until the Thames tide became favourable, and at two o’clock in the afternoon she stepped onto the royal barge and was rowed up the river to the Tower, likely entering via the Court Gate near the Byward Tower – the usual entrance for nobility and royalty, rather than Traitor’s Gate. We know from William Kingston, the Constable of the Tower, that upon entering the Tower, Anne was informed she would be lodged in those familiar queen’s apartments, whereupon she broke down into hysterical tears and declared that it was too good for her. This has sometimes been taken as evidence of a degree of guilt, but Mantel’s Cromwell feels he knows what she means:

  When she said the queen’s lodgings were too good for her, she did not mean to admit her guilt, but to say this truth: I am not worthy, and I am not worthy because I have failed.

  Historically, one of Anne’s main concerns while at the Tower was for her family, asking after her parents, worrying that her fate, and that of her brother, would kill their mother, and worrying for George. As we see in The Mirror and the Light, George, brought in the same day as Anne, was mostly concerned for those who might suffer as a result of his death; indeed he was so distressed that Sir William Kingston wrote to Cromwell on his behalf to ask for help.

  The other men are brought to the Tower with Francis Weston being admitted last on 5th May. Thomas and Elizabeth Boleyn did not visit Anne and George, a fact which is used as evidence of their ruthless callousness towards their children, but more than likely, they were forbidden to visit, obliged to remain silent.

  INTERROGATION

  So much of the documentation pertaining to Anne’s arrest has vanished, and Cromwell’s interrogations of the four men can only be guessed at, but the interrogations which Mantel has conjured are punctuated by one linking theme: left forepaw, right forepaw, right hindpaw and left hindpaw. Four positions, four men. The devils who tormented the cardinal in the masque.

  Cromwell first questions Norris, where flirtatious banter between himself and the queen is placed before him, twisted into something far more licentious. Norris would be accused of having intercourse with the queen on 6th and 31st October 1533 at Westminster. The usually meticulous Cromwell should have checked those dates: Anne was actually at Greenwich, recovering from childbirth. Not that it mattered at this stage.

  For Brereton’s interrogation, Mantel’s Cromwell does not even bother to discuss the charges, but rather what he feels Brereton is guilty of, referencing Brereton’s covering up of a murder committed by his servants. In reality, it is more likely that Brereton’s opposition to Cromwell’s administrative reforms, particularly in Wales, led to his removal. When George Boleyn is examined, we get a sense that Mantel’s Cromwell does not believe the charges of incest, but he does believe George to be an arrogant man who has no morals or religious conviction – a belief which does not do George justice.

  Weston, of all the men, understands that it is not just about Wolsey, but his own treatment of Cromwell over the years, and apologizes, but Mantel has Weston on the precipice of admitting something. Rather than waiting for the man to speak, Cromwell leaves the room. This is perhaps Mantel’s way of excusing her man; avoiding the pronouncement of a historical verdict either way. Mantel does not want to tell us either that Anne is guilty or that she is innocent.

  Throughout these interrogations, it is clear that we are being invited to follow Cromwell’s logic but we are being asked, without judgement, to understand Cromwell’s rationale:

  He needs guilty men. So he has found men who are guilty. Though perhaps not guilty as charged.

  Then it is Anne’s turn. Without evidence, we can only imagine Cromwell’s examination of his former ally, and again, Anne’s true guilt is somewhat ambiguous. We believe Mantel’s Anne when she is emotional, irrational, uncomprehending of how her life has collapsed around her, and she appeals to Cromwell who, just for a moment, hesitates:

  But then she raises her hands and clasps them at her breast, in the gesture Lady Rochford had showed him. Ah, Queen Esther, he thinks. She is not innocent; she can only mimic innocence.

  Of course, Cromwell does not say she is guilty.

  TRIAL AND EXECUTION

  Cromwell engineered the trial of Anne and her co-accused, ensuring that there could be no other outcome but a guilty charge, supplied by a jury openly against Anne Boleyn. The trial threatened to erupt into chaos, with Cromwell barely managing to keep a hold on events. Even the day before the trial, Norfolk, who would preside over events, was still asking what the charges actually were – Cromwell was still working this out.

  The men, excluding George who would be tried separately as a peer, were tried on 14 May. All were found guilty, which meant that Anne and George’s convictions were a forgone conclusion.

  Mantel’s Cromwell watches Anne as she is tried, he marvels that she doesn’t seem to believe it all. This Anne is impassive and seems to be a world away, but historical accounts of Anne’s trial suggests she was composed and dignified, calmly refuting all of the charges. Regardless of the facts, both she and George were convicted of high treason and sentenced to death.

  Henry allows Anne a small mercy: she will be beheaded not with an axe but a French sword, wielded by a French swordsman from Calais. Mantel points out one important fact, denoting the contrived nature of Anne’s downfall – Henry is no innocent cuckold. In Bringing Up the Bodies Jean de Dinteville, a French diplomat, shares this news with Cromwell and Sir William Kingston. Cromwell wants to make sure Kingston has understood:

  ‘Did you get that?’ he asks. ‘Henry has sent to Calais for the headsman.’ ‘By the Mass,’ Kingston says. ‘Did he do it before the trial?’ ‘So monsieur the ambassador tells me.’

  17 MAY 1536

  Cromwell is neither present historically, nor on the page, as George, Weston, Brereton, Smeaton and Norris are executed. Records of George’s eloquent speech have survived the centuries:

  And if I have offended any man that is not here now, either in thought, word or deed, and if ye hear any such, I pray you heartily in my behalf, pray them to forgive me for God’s sake... I say unto you all, that if I had followed God’s word in deed as I did read it and set it forth to my power, I had not come to this. If I had, I had been a living man among you.

  19 MAY 1536

  Historical records follow Anne’s last hours in the Tower, as she prays and swears on the sacrament of her innocence. Mantel’s Cromwell stands on the scaffold, testing the wooden beams.

  Before 9am, Sir William Kingston led Anne and four maidservants out to the scaffold, and it was reported that Anne ‘went to her execution with an untroubled countenance’. There was a scaffold but no block, since Anne was to be decapitated by a French swordsman, and would kneel
upright for the blow. Mantel’s Cromwell can barely hear Anne’s last words: they come on the wind, fragmented. Thankfully, we have some records of her final speech:

  Good Christian people, I am come hither to die, according to law, for by the law I am judged to die, and therefore I will speak nothing against it. I come here only to die, and thus to yield myself humbly to the will of the King, my lord. ... Thus I take my leave of the world, and of you, and I heartily desire you all to pray for me. Oh, Lord, have mercy on me. To God I commend my soul.

  Mantel describes the moment:

  Then a silence, and into that silence, a sharp sigh or a sound like a whistle through a keyhole: the body exsanguinates, and its flat little presence becomes a puddle of gore.

  We might imagine a flurry of activity as Anne’s body was hastily packed away, but Anne’s body lay on the scaffold for a few hours after her execution because no one was prepared. Her head and body were placed in an empty arrow chest and brought to the chapel of St Peter ad Vincula, at the Tower, and interred under the altar.

  We do not know what else Cromwell did that day, whether he returned to his desk, thinking no more of his vanquished enemies, or whether, as Mantel has it, he sits with a friend and reflects on the bloodshed. But Mantel has captured Cromwell’s unwavering, unapologetic stance.