Henry VIII: The King and His Court

by Alison Weir

  The new peerage creations were not universally popular, especially that of Suffolk. “Many considered it very surprising,” wrote Polydose Vergil. Buckingham especially was furious at the ennoblement of Brandon, whom he considered an upstart and “not of a very noble lineage,” 8 and pointedly stayed away from the ceremony. It was Buckingham’s rival Wolsey who had advised the King to advance his friend, possibly with a view to offsetting the new Duke of Norfolk’s influence on the Council.

  When Henry granted Brandon the estates formerly held by Edmund de la Pole, Brandon became at a stroke much wealthier, and therefore more powerful, than most of the landed aristicracy. He seemed, wrote a Burgundian observer, to be “a second King, . . . one who does and undoes.” 9 The standard-bearer’s son took it all in his stride. “No one ever bore so vast a rise with so easy a dignity,” declared a Venetian, assuring the Senate that Suffolk was now “the chief nobleman of England” and “a liberal and magnificent lord.”10 The older nobility looked askance: they were jealous of Suffolk’s influence and distrusted his ambition. Erasmus spoke for them all when he wrote scathingly of the former Master of the Horse, “The King has recently turned that new Duke from a stable boy into a nobleman.”11

  Suffolk’s power now rivalled that of the other new Duke, Norfolk, who, in recognition of his victory at Flodden, was granted the right to display the royal arms of Scotland alongside his own, with the Scottish lion impaled with an arrow, as James IV’s had been. He was also made Earl Marshal of England for life. Norfolk’s son, another Thomas Howard, now became Earl of Surrey at the age of forty-one. In 1512, on his father’s resignation, he had succeeded as Lord Treasurer of England, and in 1513 he had commanded the vanguard at Flodden. He had been married first to Anne of York, daughter of Edward IV, but she and their four infant children were dead by 1513, and Howard had recently married Buckingham’s fourteen-year-old daughter Elizabeth. Naturally, the blue-blooded Howards had little love for Suffolk, and were poised to destroy him should the chance arise.

  The King did not forget the man who had worked so hard to make the French campaign a success. On 6 February, Wolsey was appointed Bishop of Lincoln; his consecration followed on 26 March. Wolsey was to further prove his worth when, in March, Henry’s allies, Ferdinand of Aragon and Maximilian, went behind his back and signed a truce with Louis XII. The King, in truth a political innocent, was devastated at their desertion, and characteristically sought a scapegoat for this betrayal. Queen Katherine, the faithless Ferdinand’s daughter, bore the brunt of her husband’s anger, and suddenly ceased to be be his most trusted adviser; there were even rumours in Rome that year that he intended to divorce her.

  To make matters worse, Henry’s sister Mary was betrothed to the Archduke Charles of Austria, Prince of Castile, the heir to both Ferdinand and Maximilian. Preparations for the wedding, which was to take place abroad before 15 May, were already well advanced. The King was fond of his sister and, at enormous cost, had provided her with a fabulous trousseau of sumptuous clothing, jewellery, furnishings, and plate.12 He had even sent fabric samples to Margaret of Austria, Charles’s aunt, and asked if Mary’s clothes should be made up in the Burgundian style; the Regent had simply advised that her dress should be “queenly and honourable.” 13 Queen Katherine had appointed the Countess of Oxford as the Princess’s chief lady-in-waiting, and a list of the 101 persons who would make up her retinue had already been sent for Margaret’s approval.

  Mary Tudor was then eighteen, “a nymph from Heaven, a paradise.” 14 “Nature never formed anything more beautiful,” declared Erasmus.15 Mary was tall and graceful, with the red-gold hair of her race16 and a fair complexion achieved without the aid of cosmetics.17 She had a charming, lively manner, excelled at conversation, and loved dancing and music; she sang well and played several instruments. No prince could have had a more fit mate.

  But now there was to be no wedding. Wolsey sought to save the King’s face by advocating an alliance with France. Wolsey was no imperialist, and regarded successive emperors as his adversaries in his later quest for the papacy. Throughout the period of his ascendancy, he would remain strongly pro-French, which was one of the reasons why Queen Katherine so distrusted him.

  It took a while to persuade the King to favour this new alliance, but one thing was blindingly clear to everyone, and that was that Henry had come to rely on Wolsey’s judgement and advice more than anyone else’s. Wolsey had become the chief councillor, answerable only to the King, and from now on he would be all-powerful.

  Even Suffolk did not enjoy as much influence, so it is not surprising to find that the Duke was jealous. Hitherto, of the “two obstinate men who govern everything,” he had been the foremost in the King’s counsels.18 Now, although Henry might still be firm friends with him, he had been bested by his more able rival, and although on the surface the two remained cordial, it would be some time before he could bring himself to establish an amicable working relationship with Wolsey. Before that happened, he would have cause to be very grateful indeed to Wolsey.

  There was mutual hatred between the Howards and Wolsey. The last years of Norfolk’s life were overshadowed by a bitter power struggle with his adversary, who never ceased in his attempts to poison the King’s mind against him; to Henry’s credit, he did not let this undermine the affection and respect he had for the Duke. In 1529, Wolsey confessed to the then Duke of Norfolk (who was Earl of Surrey in 1514) that he had been trying to destroy him for the past fourteen years, and had the Howards had the chance, they would doubtless have done the same to him. Nevertheless, they often found themselves in agreement with Wolsey’s policies and working in tandem with him, whereas Buckingham and Shrewsbury were opposed to everything he did on principle.

  Buckingham loathed Wolsey, and was probably his greatest enemy. He certainly led the noble opposition to the lowborn arriviste who had usurped the aristocrat’s traditional role of chief adviser to the King. On one memorable occasion, when the Duke had the privilege of holding a basin for the King to wash his hands in before dinner, he was shocked when Wolsey had the temerity to dip his fingers in the same water, and deliberately spilt some over Wolsey’s shoes, which resulted in a very public row.19 Buckingham had not the sense to perceive that it was his own hauteur, aloofness, and sheer lack of ability that had prevented him from achieving the preeminence he felt ought to be his, nor the tact to hide his bitterness at being excluded from the royal counsels. Like most of his caste, he hated the French, England’s traditional enemies, and could never bring himself to approve of Wolsey’s foreign policy.

  While Wolsey negotiated an honourable peace, Henry began building the first of his recreational complexes, at Greenwich. This consisted of two high octagonal brick towers with pinnacles at either end of a gallery overlooking a new tiltyard that measured 650 feet by 250 feet; from now on, a greater number of spectators could enjoy a better view of the jousts, and when not in use as a grandstand, the gallery would be utilised as a store for jousting equipment.20 Greenwich seems to have been a favourite venue for tournaments: at least ten were held here in the decade before 1520. The tiltyard complex can be seen clearly in drawings of the palace made by Anthony van Wyngaerde around 1555–1558.21

  The new tiltyard may have been completed in time for the tournament held in May 1514, when the King and Suffolk appeared in the lists disguised as hermits, Henry in a white velvet habit with a cloak of leather and cloth of silver, Suffolk in black. Before the jousts began, both threw off their disguises and tossed them to the Queen and her ladies as largesse. Now Henry was in black and Suffolk in white as they thundered down the field. In total, 114 lances were broken.22

  On 19 May, there arrived for the King from Rome a sword and cap of maintenance, consecrated by Pope Leo X. The Pontiff had also been offended by the duplicity of Ferdinand and Maximilian, and wanted to reassure Henry of his friendship and retain his goodwill as an ally.

  The papal ambassador, Dom Leonardo Spinelli, was received in London with great pomp
by “sundry lords with some 400 horses.” Crowds thronged the streets, eager to see the Pope’s gifts. The cap was carried aloft on the tip of the gilded sword; it was of purple satin, a foot high, with an embroidered brim and pendant tails of ermine.

  Two days later, Henry, who had been staying in the Bishop’s Palace by St. Paul’s, donned robes of purple satin chequered with gold flowers, “a jewelled collar worth a well full of gold,” a cap of purple velvet with two jewelled rosettes, and a doublet of gold brocade, then rode on a beautiful black palfrey in procession to the cathedral, surrounded by his courtiers. At the door he dismounted and walked to the high altar, where the papal envoy waited with the sword and cap. As the King knelt, two noblemen girded him with the sword and placed the cap on his head. It was too big, and covered his face completely, but he presumably adjusted it before making “an entire circuit of the interior of the church.” After the procession, “high mass commenced with great pomp and with vocal and instrumental music.” The King left the cathedral at 1 P.M., followed by the ambassadors and courtiers walking two by two back to the Bishop’s Palace. A Venetian estimated that thirty thousand spectators had come to watch.23

  The King had for some time been building up England’s navy, of which he is with justification regarded as one of the chief founders. Henry adored ships and was fascinated by the technology of naval warfare. He had inherited only a few vessels from his father, but was determined make his navy a power to be reckoned with on the high seas. By the end of his reign, he had built forty-six warships and thirteen smaller galleys, purchased twenty-six other ships, and captured thirteen more.24 At the time, this was the greatest navy in the world: although equal in size to those of other countries, it was far better organised and disciplined.

  Henry was also interested in navigation. Among other scientific aids, he owned a rare tidal almanack of Europe and a perpetual lunar calendar. 25 He knew more about French tidal waters than the experts did, 26 and his Lord Admirals learned to trust his encyclopaedic knowledge of naval matters.

  On 13 June 1514, Henry launched his greatest ship yet, the Henry Grace à Dieu, which came to be known as the “Great Harry.” The King and Queen, accompanied by the Princess Mary, various ambassadors, and the whole court,27 went in their state barges by water from Greenwich to Erith, where the great warship lay; eyewitnesses claimed this was the greatest pageant yet seen on the River Thames. 28 The King was dressed in a vest and breeches of cloth of gold with scarlet hose, while around his neck hung a whistle on a gold chain, the insignia of the supreme commander of the navy.29

  The Henry Grace à Dieu was a very large vessel with “five decks and seven tops.”30 She had “no equal in bulk” and had “an incredible array”31 of more than two hundred bronze and iron cannon.32 When the King and court had boarded the splendid vessel, she was blessed with “many masses, including high mass sung for the benediction.”33 Then Henry conducted everyone on a guided tour of the ship.34 He would always retain a special affection for the “Great Harry,” and when she was in dock at Rye some years later, he went to view her and dined on board.

  Wolsey’s negotiations with France reached a successful conclusion in the summer. On 30 July, at the royal manor of Wanstead, Essex, the Princess Mary formally renounced her betrothal to Charles of Castile. A week later, the peace with France was proclaimed, and it was announced that Mary was to marry King Louis himself.

  Henry showed his gratitude to Wolsey by immediately nominating him Archbishop of York, the previous incumbent, Cardinal Christopher Bainbridge, having just died in Rome. A month later, Wolsey was also made Bishop of Tournai. It seemed the King could not do enough for him. He now wrote to the Vatican, urging Pope Leo to appoint him a cardinal, “since his merits are such that the King can do nothing of the least importance without him, and esteems him among his dearest friends.”35

  Wolsey did not set foot in his northern diocese for many years, nor was he immediately consecrated. He was more interested in the trappings of power and status. His promotion brought him York Place at Westminster, which had been the London residence of the archbishops of York since the thirteenth century. Wolsey immediately had it surveyed, then set about extending it in the grand manner, creating “a very fine palace”36 where he could entertain the King and others in princely style. 37 In 1514–1515, he spent £1,250 (£375,000) on improvements.

  Visitors were overawed by the splendour of York Place. Now faced with red brick and built on a courtyard plan, it had a great hall and chapel, a watching chamber, a presence chamber, a dining chamber, a gallery, an armoury, and a cloister. Beneath the watching chamber was a wine cellar, which still survives.38 Giustinian described how he “traversed eight rooms before reaching [Wolsey’s] audience chamber. They were all hung with tapestry which was changed once a week. Wherever Wolsey was, he always had a sideboard of plate worth 25,000 ducats.”39 The palace was a monument to exquisite taste, and boasted brightly jewelled chapel plate; sets of rich tapestries and hangings; paintings of the saints, the Emperor Trajan, “Dame Pleasaunce,” and the Duc de Berry; fine furniture of estate; jewellery; and a bedstead of alabaster bearing Wolsey’s arms and gilded flowers.40 There was also a delightful garden for the Archbishop’s personal use.

  With the peace about to be concluded, Henry was satisfied and Wolsey triumphant, but the royal bride was not at all happy. She had no wish to marry the ailing King Louis, who at fifty-two was thirty-four years her senior, because she was almost certainly in love with Charles Brandon. The letters that passed between Mary, Suffolk, and Wolsey in 1515 reveal not only that the King was aware of his sister’s feelings, but that she had only “consented to his request, and for the peace of Christendom, to marry Louis of France, though he was very aged and sickly, on condition that if she survived him, she should marry whom she liked.”41 It transpired, however, that Henry had no intention of keeping his side of the bargain.

  20

  “Cloth of Frieze Be Not Too Bold”

  On Sunday, 13 August 1514, the whole court gathered at Greenwich in the great banqueting hall, which had been hung with cloth of gold embroidered with the royal arms of England and France, to see Mary Tudor married by proxy to Louis XII. The King and the Queen (who was visibly pregnant and wore silver satin with a gold Venetian cap) arrived three hours late with the bride, who looked very beautiful in a purple-and-gold-chequered gown, which matched the robes of the French King’s representative, the Duc de Longueville. The couple exchanged vows, rings, and a kiss before Archbishop Warham, and after the nuptial mass had been celebrated, there was a banquet followed by two hours of dancing, led by the King and Buckingham. When these two set aside their long gowns and danced in their doublets, many older gentlemen present followed suit, apart from Andrea Badoer, the Venetian ambassador, who was conscious of his advancing years.

  In the evening, the company proceeded into a chamber where a great bed had been prepared. The new Queen of France lay upon it in a nightgown described as “magnificent deshabille,” with one leg bared to the thigh, while the Duc de Longueville, having removed his red hose, lay beside her and touched her naked leg with his own. Warham then declared the marriage symbolically consummated, at which “the King of England made great rejoicing.”1

  King Louis, who was eager to see his bride, sent to England the French portrait painter, Jehan Perreal, to capture Mary’s likeness2 and help prepare her trousseau. Naturally, the trousseau provided for her marriage to Charles of Castile was not thought suitable, and the King once again opened his coffers to ensure that his sister went to France “well and sumptuously attired.”3 “Merchants of every nation went to the court; the Queen of France desired to see them all, and gave her hand to each of them.”4 Between them, they made up thirty gowns for her. In addition, Henry supplied her lavishly with jewels and furnishings.

  Mary was also to take with her to France a large entourage. Two of her youngest maids of honour were Mary and Anne, the daughters of Sir Thomas Boleyn. The Mother of the Maids was Lad
y Guildford, Sir Henry’s mother and Mary’s former governess. Most of these English attendants would be sent home by King Louis, even “Mother Guildford,” much to Mary’s distress.5

  Louis approved every name on Mary’s list of attendants save one, that of Jane Popincourt, the French lady who had served Elizabeth of York, Mary Tudor, and Katherine of Aragon. She was close to Mary and, together with the Duc de Longueville and the Princess’s former tutor, John Palsgrave, 6 was helping her to practise conversation in French. The English ambassador in Paris, however, warned his master that Jane was leading an “evil life” as the mistress of the married de Longueville, at which Louis declared: “As you love me, speak of her no more. I would she were burned!” Then, claiming that his only concern was for the moral welfare of his wife, he struck Jane’s name off the list.7 Mary was quite upset.

  She may have been somewhat mollified when she received Louis’s chief bridal gift, the Mirror of Naples, a diamond as large as “a full-sized finger” with a huge pear-shaped pendant pearl, which arrived in London before September, when Mary wore it for her final public appearance in London. Henry VIII had it valued at 60,000 crowns (£4,500,000).8

  During August, while Mary was preparing to go to France, the King set out on his summer progress. His route took him to Newbury; Guildford; Farnham Castle, where he was the guest of Bishop Foxe; Oatlands near Weybridge, where his host was Bartholemew Reed, whose deer park would become a favourite royal hunting ground; and Croydon, where he lodged in the palace of the Archbishop of Canterbury.9