by Gwyn, Peter
30 ‘The enquirie and verdite of the quest panneld of the death of Richard Hune wich was found hanged in Lolars Tower.’ Probably the only copy now resides in the Parker Library, Corpus Christi College, Cambridge, the BL copy having been destroyed in the war. I am very grateful to the college authorities for allowing me to consult it. It is transcribed in Hall, pp.573-80 and Foxe, iv, pp.190-7. For its dating see E. J. Davis, EHR, XXX (1915).
31 Thomson, The Later Lollards, p.230.
32 For this view and much new information about Joseph, see Wunderli.
33 The parallel might be with Henry II’s famous outburst against Thomas Becket, leading, unintentionally perhaps, to the latter’s martyrdom.
34 Cf. Fitzjames’s contention that Joseph’s accusation against Horsey was only made ‘by pain and durance’ – in his supposed letter to Wolsey printed in ‘The enquirie and verdite’ and quoted in Ogle, pp.81-2.
35 This was More’s contention; see CWM, 6, p.326. Certainly there is no evidence for any action being taken against Joseph or his alleged accomplice, John Spalding.
36 A view tentatively put forward by Elton in Reform and Reformation, p.53.
37CWM, 6, pp.316-30. More’s writing is just as polemical as Fish’s or Foxe’s – but I confess to finding his case more convincing.
38 Ozment, p.213, for a recent general account, in which there is reference to ‘episcopal arrogance’ and ‘damage to lay respect … for many irreversible’.
39LP, ii, 215.
40 Vergil, p.229.
41 Wriothesley, p.9.
42 Hall, p.573.
43 Quoted in E. J. Davis, EHR XXX, p.478.
44CWM, 6, p.318.
45LJ, i, p.41; A. F. Pollard, pp.39-41.
46 Thomson, The Later Lollards, p.167.
47 What follows relies very heavily on Brigden, ‘Early Reformation’, and VCH, London, i, pp.207-87.
48 Brigden, JEH, 32 (1981); Thomson, EHR, lxviii (1963).
49 Woodcock, Medieval Ecclesiastical Courts, pp.89-92.
50 St German CWM, 9, p.195; see also Houlbrooke, Church Courts, pp.124-6; Haigh, History, p.395. But for larger numbers in the archdeaconry of Leicester see Bowker, The Henrician Reformation, p.53, though she admits the evidence is ‘scrappy and difficult’. And in ‘Some archdeacons’ court books’ she takes a generally optimistic view of the late medieval Church.
51 St German, p.195.
52 Lehmberg, pp.91-2.
53 A vast and controversial subject with a literature to match – but for revisionist views see inter alia Haigh, History, 68 (1963); Harper-Bill, JEH, 29 (1987); O’Day and Heal; Scarisbrick, Reformation; and for a measured restatement of the previous orthodoxy see Dickens, ‘The shape of anti-clericalism’.
54VCH, London, i, p.256.
55 Brigden, ‘Early Reformation’, pp.118-48.
56 Dickens, English Reformation, pp.90ff. as a locus classicus – and despite my strong disagreement with him, I remain an admirer of his work.
57 My approach to anticlericalism has been much influenced by R.W. Southern.
58 Storey, The End of the House of Lancaster, p.9.
59 This may be considered an over-bold statement – and the subject is under-researched. The best introduction, with a good bibliography, is probably J.R. Lander, Government and Community, pp.105-51.
60 Wilkins, iii, pp.583-5; Scofield, i, pp.390-2.
61 See Firth, for a detailed discussion of the charter; also Registrum Thome Bourgchier, pp.xxxii ff. and 102-7.
62 Houlbrooke, ‘The decline of ecclesiastical jurisdiction’, p.240; Woodcock, pp.79-92.
63 Wilkins, iii, p.616.
64Inter alia Condon, pp.110-32; M.J. Kelly, ‘Canterbury jurisdiction’, pp.97-110.
65 4 Hen. VII, c.13 (SR, ii, p.538).
66 12 Hen. VII, c.7 (SR, ii. p.639).
67 Gabel; but also Baker, ii, pp.327-34; Bellamy, Crime and Public Order, pp.154-5; Blatcher, pp.56-7.
68 Houlbrooke, ‘The decline of ecclesiastical jurisdiction’, pp.239-41; M. J. Kelly, ‘Canterbury jurisdiction’, pp.104-8.
69 See Harrison for a full transcript.
70 Included in Dudley’s list.
71 Dudley, pp.32-3 for all these quotations.
72 Ullmann.
73 BL, Tib. E. VIII, fo.89. Ullmann suggested that they were, but the 1530s does seem more likely.
74 PRO, SCI/44/fo.83; quoted in Houlbroke, ‘The decline of ecclesiastical jurisdiction’, p.241.
75 See pp.42-3, above.
76Registrum Ricardi Mayew, p.55.
77LJ, i, pp.4-6.
78 Wilkins, iii, p.651 – the summons to the 1510 convocation; see also M. J. Kelly, ‘Canterbury jurisdiction’, pp.95-147 – an outstanding piece of work that should have been published.
79 Lupton, p.297; for the whole sermon ibid, pp.293-310.
80 BL, Vit. B. ii, fos.80-1. In the quotations that follow I have made use of R.E. Brock’s translation in his ‘Career of John Taylor’, pp.309-15.
81 4 Hen. VIII, c.2 (SR, iii, p.49).
82 Jedin, i, pp.128 ff.
83 The two bulls were Supernae dispositionis arbitrio (5 May 1514) and Regimini universalis ecclesiae (4 May 1515); see Schroeder, pp.488-98, 500-3.
84 Found in Keilwey, a major, and sometimes questioned source for the Standish affair, used extensively in his own translation by A. Ogle in his Lollards’ Tower, pp.140 ff. For important discussions on the Reports see A. F. Pollard, pp.44, n.2 and Simpson. Many of the doubts about its authenticity as a source for this episode have been removed by J.A. Guy’s discovery of an early sixteenth-century version; see Guy, EHR, xvii, p.497, n.2 – though this does not prevent it from being biased against the clerical position. I am grateful to J.A. Guy for providing me with a photocopy of his discovery.
85Registrum Ricardi Mayew, pp.50-2.
86 Jedin, i, pp.135-6.
87 By drawing together the various arguments put by both sides it has proved difficult to provide satisfactory references, but see Ogle, pp.140 ff. For a sermon putting forward the clerical view see PRO, SP6/3/5/ fos.45-85 (LP, v, 1021, where wrongly dated; see M. J. Kelly, ‘Canterbury jurisdiction’, p.139, n.2).
88 Ogle, p.150.
89 Ibid, p.151.
90 PRO, SP1/12/fos.18-21 (LP, ii, 1314).
91 Ogle, pp.151-2.
92 Ibid, p.152 for this exchange.
93 Ibid, p.152. J.M.D. Derrett in his important, but to my mind confusing, article wrongly attributes Warham’s remarks to Wolsey; see Derrett, pp.234-5.
94 Ogle, p.152.
95 Ogle, pp.152-3 – but, like the above, a translation from Keilwey, Reports; see p.47, n.1 above.
96 Scarisbrick, Henry VIII, p.417.
97 Ibid, p.279.
98 Foxe, Acts and Monuments, iv, p.196.
99 Ogle, pp.151-2.
100LP, ii, 1314; see M. J. Kelly, ‘Canterbury jurisdiction’, pp.135-6.
101 See p.7 above.
102 M. J. Kelly, ‘Canterbury jurisdiction’, pp.42-94.
103 Thus Dickens could write: ‘Amongst the higher clergy the impressive feature is the virtual unanimity with which they followed the lead of the king.’ (English Reformation, p.124). Admittedly in recent years the consensus has been challenged, especially by Scarisbrick, both in his Henry VIII, pp.273-81, 329-31 and Reformation, pp.61 ff; see also Bernard, JEH, 37 (1986).
104LP, ii, 780, 966.
105 Rymer, xiii, p.495; LP, ii, 1105, 1281.
106 Wilkins, iii, p.713; Bellamy, Criminal Law, pp.138-40.
107 The standard account is Thornley, but see also Baker, ii, pp.334-46. I am very grateful to A. G. Rosser for his comments on what I originally wrote on this subject – and for the Westminster sanctuary see his Medieval Westminster.
108 Baker, ii, p.340.
109 Thornley, p.197, though for a different view see Kaufman, ‘Henry VII and sanctuary’.
110 Keilway, pp.190-2 is the source, but extensively summarized in Gasquet, The Eve of the Reformation, p
p.51 ff. Ives, ‘Crimes, sanctuary and royal authority’ is very important, especially for the events leading up to the discussion, which I have not been able to tackle.
111 Keilway, p.191.
112 Keilway, pp.191-2.
113LP, iv, 2935-6, 3334 for evidence of continuing trouble – including the possibility of an attack on Wolsey’s London residence, York Place.
114 Baker, ii, 345.
115LP, iv, 2385.
116 For Henry’s stated intentions at the discussion see Baker, ii, p.343.
117 Lupton, pp.193-8 (LP, ii, 1153), a transcript of a document in the College of Arms giving a detailed description of Wolsey’s installation, including Colet’s sermon.
118 Lupton, p.197.
119 Elton’s description of him ‘flaunting his scarlet, his maces, his tapers, his canopies, the trappings of his mule’ (Reform and Reformation, p.64) is a good example.
120 O’Malley, pp.135-8.
121 Lupton, p.198 – for the ‘grovelling’.
CHAPTER THREE
THE MAKING OF THE TREATY OF LONDON
THE YEAR 1518 HAS SOME CLAIM TO BEING CALLED WOLSEY’S ANNUS MIRABILIS. On 17 May he was created legate a latere, a position he had been working hard to obtain for well over two years. It was true that for the time being he would have to put up with a fellow legate in Cardinal Campeggio and that his legatine powers would only last for as long as Campeggio remained in England. It was also true that the initial grant of these powers by Leo X was for the sole purpose of enabling the two cardinals to promote the papal plans for a five-year truce in Europe and a crusade against the Turk. Still, as legate a latere Wolsey would have authority over the whole English Church, not excluding those religious orders previously exempt from episcopal jurisdiction, while even the archbishop of Canterbury would have to recognize his superiority. Thus, if Leo X could be persuaded to prolong Wolsey’s new powers after Campeggio’s departure, and perhaps even to enlarge their scope, then at last he would be truly in a position to govern the English Church, and maybe even to reform it.
That was for the future. What of the price demanded by Leo x, his plans for European peace and a crusade? This Wolsey refused to pay, or rather he made very certain that it was his own plans for peace that dominated the attention of the European powers in the summer and autumn of 1518, and these did not include a crusade. On 3 October a treaty of universal peace was proclaimed in London at St Paul’s Cathedral. In fact, it was but one of a number of treaties drawn up at this time collectively referred to as the Treaty of London, the central purpose of which had been the renewal, on even more favourable terms to England, of the Anglo-French alliance of 1514. Still, in all the elaborate ceremonials that accompanied its signing, it was the universal peace that was given the greatest prominence, and that brought the greatest honour to its architects, the king of England, and his leading councillor, Cardinal Wolsey. Undoubtedly, the Treaty of London was a great diplomatic coup, as to a lesser extent was the obtaining of Wolsey’s legatine powers. The purpose of this chapter will be to show how both these events were brought about.
The year 1518 had not begun well. This was partly for a reason quite outside Wolsey’s control. Ever since the midsummer of the previous year a ‘new malady’ had made its presence felt. It derived its name, the ‘sweating sickness’ from the heavy sweating that accompanied it, resulting in complete dehydration. It lasted usually for no more than four or five hours and never more than twenty-four, by which time the sufferer was either dead or on the way to a full recovery.1 While Wolsey survived four attacks in one month,2 Henry rushed from one improvised residence to another, often accompanied by as few as half a dozen people, in a desperate effort to escape the contagion. He succeeded, but some about him, including Lord Clinton and Lord Grey, succumbed.3 Hall suggests that in some towns over half the inhabitants died – probably an exaggeration, for there is no other evidence for any dramatic fall in population, but indicative perhaps of the panic that the ‘sweating sickness’ caused. The Michaelmas law term of 1517 was adjourned and the court’s Christmas celebrations were kept to a minimum, though it was Hall’s view that by then the outbreak was over.4 This was not a view that Henry shared. Having spent February and March 1518 lurking at Windsor, he was off on his travels again, spending the next two months in Reading, Abingdon and finally Woodstock, all the time desperately anxious for news of the latest victims of the ‘sweat’.5 For the historian, the epidemic has this advantage: by separating Henry from his leading minister it necessitated a constant interchange of letters, many of which have survived. For Henry and Wolsey it can only have contributed to their anxieties. Although the previous summer Wolsey had been able to write that ‘your realm, our Lord, be thanked, was never in such peace nor tranquility’,6 external affairs were in no such good order, and had not been so for some time.
That Wolsey’s foreign policy appeared to be so unsuccessful is, given his reputation in this field, surprising, especially as the failure looks predictable, and not only with the benefit of hindsight. Many of those involved in the execution of England’s foreign policy warned that it was running into difficulty, and on occasions even suggested changes. Its ostensible aims were simple enough. Francis I was to be deprived of the fruits of his great victory in September 1515 over the Swiss at Marignano, the chief outcome of which had been the assertion of his claim to the duchy of Milan and with it the French domination of Northern Italy. With Milan safely in his hands, it was possible for Francis both to dominate the papacy and to achieve what, since at least 1494 and the first invasion of Italy, had been the ultimate goal of French policy in the peninsula – the conquest of Naples. The ostensible aim of England’s foreign policy was to ensure that none of this happened. Instead, the French were to be kicked out of Northern Italy and then pursued back into their own country, though not, in the first instance at any rate, by direct military intervention by the English. The fighting was to be done by the Swiss and the Emperor Maximilian. England’s role was confined to providing them with money, and, indeed, she never even got round formally to breaking off diplomatic relations with the supposed enemy.7
This rather curious stance may be the first clue that Wolsey’s real intentions were not quite as stated, but for the moment it is the defects of the stated policy that must be considered. The chief of these was that England appeared to have linked herself not with genuine allies who shared her aims but with those whose ambitions were essentially mercenary. Prompt and regular payment was what the Swiss and Maximilian wanted, and the more money the better. If this was not forthcoming, then there was always the possibility that the French might be more generous, which was precisely what happened. At Fribourg in November 1516 the Swiss succumbed to French money, and in the following March at Cambrai Maximilian did the same.8 England was left looking exposed, not to say foolish, and apparently with nowhere very obvious to go. Still, this is perhaps unfair, and certainly anticipates events.
Back in the late autumn of 1515, when the English plans for an alliance were drawn up, it was of course known that the Swiss were mercenaries by tradition, which is no doubt why ‘divers in England saith that they be villains, and disdaineth to hear speak of them’.9 But some of the Swiss were also motivated by a strong desire to avenge Marignano, a defeat that had lost them not only their pride but also territory obtained just three years previously, when they had helped to throw the French out of Northern Italy. Thus, there were grounds for believing that they might be an effective instrument against the French; and in addition there remained their most obvious qualification – despite Marignano, where they had been heavily outnumbered, they were still the best infantrymen in Europe. Against this, the division of the Swiss confederation into thirteen cantons meant that they were never an especially united force, and in 1515 only five – those most affected by the French occupation of Milan – consistently supported the English.
But if the Swiss were not entirely dependable, they were as the Bank of England in comparison with
Maximilian. His unreliability was notorious, and England’s willingness to place so much faith in him would have seemed remarkable in any circumstances.10 At this time there were additional reasons for mistrusting him. It would be a brave man who would ascribe to Maximilian any consistent aims, but certainly in 1515 neither the fate of Milan, nor indeed any attack on the French, was his primary concern. Instead, it was the need to defend the gains of his long-drawn-out, if intermittent, war with Venice, begun as long ago as 1508. It is true that France, by being Venice’s ally, became his enemy; but Milan was not Verona, and it was the defence of the latter from Venetian attack, not the recapture of the former from the French, that was Maximilian’s chief preoccupation in Northern Italy – and it was a preoccupation which helped England not at all.11
