37
At the end of July 1 529, Henry went with Anne Boleyn to Greenwich, then took her on progress, visiting Waltham Abbey, Barnet, Tittenhanger, Windsor, Reading, Woodstock, Langley, Buckingham, and Grafton, where Anne “kept state more like a queen than a simple maid.”1 Here, in September, the two legates came, so that Campeggio could take his official leave of the King before returning to Rome.
There is no doubt that Wolsey was in disgrace, and that Anne, Norfolk, and the rest of their faction were resolved to be rid of him for good. There are conflicting accounts of what happened at Grafton. Cavendish, writing many years later, claims that when the cardinals arrived, Campeggio was led away to a comfortable lodging, but that no provision had been made for Wolsey, and he was forced to sit on his mule in the courtyard until Henry Norris came and offered the use of his own room, so that the Cardinal could change out of his riding clothes before seeing the King. Another of Wolsey’s servants, Thomas Alward, whose account was written five days after the event, does not mention this but states that, because Grafton was a very small house, both cardinals were lodged at nearby Easton Neston.2 Both are agreed that when Wolsey, full of trepidation, came into the crowded presence chamber and knelt before his master, Henry’s old affection for him surfaced and, smiling, he raised him and led him to a window embrasure, where they talked for some time, much to the amazement of the onlookers.
Anne was furious. After Wolsey had gone off to eat, having arranged to meet with the King the following morning, she sat at dinner with Henry and upbraided him for entertaining a man who had done him and his realm so much ill. Alward claims that Henry and Wolsey did sit in Council the following morning, and that the King went hunting after dinner, but Cavendish says Anne insisted that Henry leave early with her to see a new hunting park nearby, and that Wolsey and Campeggio arrived just as the King was ready to leave, when he told them he had no time to talk and bade them farewell. Anne, who had ordered a picnic, saw to it that he was away all day. When he returned, Wolsey had gone, bound for the More.3
Whatever happened, Henry never saw Wolsey again. Influenced by the Boleyn faction, who were even accusing their enemy of witchcraft, he agreed that the Cardinal be indicted under the Statute of Praemunire, which prohibited papal interference in English affairs without royal consent, for receiving bulls from Rome, which Wolsey could not deny. On 17 October, he was stripped of his post as Lord Chancellor, and the Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk triumphantly went to collect the Great Seal from him at Esher. Yet the King was merciful: when, in November, Parliament arraigned Wolsey on forty-four charges, Henry refused to proceed against him, but allowed him to retain several of his ecclesiastical properties and retire to his diocese of York.
The effects of Wolsey’s fall were manifold. It unleashed a wave of anticlerical feeling, which was fed by Norfolk and Suffolk. It gave the King a useful scapegoat for things that had gone wrong in the past: he could say that Wolsey deceived him, and that many things had been done without his knowledge.4 The Privy Council and the nobility grew more powerful now that they had no rival.
In October, the King had returned to Greenwich, having seized four of Wolsey’s most desirable houses—York Place, the More, Tittenhanger, and Esher—along with their priceless contents, and taken full possession of Hampton Court. Building works still in progress were allowed to continue, and Wolsey’s coats of arms were torn down and replaced with the King’s.
On 2 November, Henry and Anne, accompanied by her mother, went by barge to view York Place.5 This was, strictly speaking, still the property of the archdiocese of York, but early in 1530 the King’s lawyers would manage to overcome this technicality.6Wolsey had drawn up an inventory before leaving the house, and the King and Anne inspected the piles of gold plate that had been left on trestles in the presence chamber and the sumptuous hangings that had been laid out in the long gallery. 7 Anne particularly liked York Place because it had no apartments for the Queen, and would be a house she could share exclusively with Henry. When Anne visited, she would lodge in a chamber beneath Wolsey’s old library, and there was accommodation for her family also.8
At Hampton Court Henry was building a new private lodging for himself, the Bayne Tower, which was connected to the privy chamber by a new gallery. 9 While work was in progress, he himself lodged in Wolsey’s stacked royal apartments. The Bayne Tower, which still survives,10 is a three-storey donjon, the last of its type to be built in England. On the ground floor were the Privy Chamber office and a strong room; the first floor housed the King’s private bedchamber, bathroom (hence the name Bayne) with hot and cold taps, and study, and the top floor his library, housed in two rooms, and jewel house.11 Henry used the Bayne Tower until 1533, when he abandoned it for more modern apartments.
His next tasks were to improve the drainage system12 and add a second great kitchen with three huge open fireplaces and two stone hatches,13 as well as several subsidiary kitchens and offices. Later, he extended the cellars. The service complex would then occupy more than fifty rooms.14
Over the next year or so, the King, encouraged by Anne Boleyn, undertook other works at Hampton Court. He replaced Wolsey’s wooden bridge with a stone one, guarded by statues of the King’s Beasts, and set up the royal arms on the gatehouse and the inner gateway.15 He built a new council chamber and constructed an imposing watergate down by the river, with an adjacent covered and crenellated water gallery with oriel windows. Later, he would transform the chapel, build innovative royal apartments, and erect a vast great hall.16 Altogether, in the period 1529–1546, he spent £62,000 (£18,600,000) on converting Hampton Court into a magnificent show palace.17
Esher Palace had been built of red brick by William Wayneflete, Bishop of Winchester in the fifteenth century, and remained officially episcopal property until Henry VIII purchased it in 1537.18 Wolsey had added a fine projecting gallery similar to that at Bridewell, which Henry had ripped out and moved to York Place while Wolsey was still residing at Esher, “only to torment him.”19
The More, another fifteenth-century house, which stood to the southeast of Rickmansworth, had been so lavishly rebuilt by Wolsey that Jean du Bellay claimed it was finer than Hampton Court.20 Henry initially did little to it, and by 1531 its once beautiful gardens were “utterly destroyed”21 and the house was deteriorating. Only in 1535 did the King make improvements, partitioning the great hall with a floor and creating new chambers above and below. Later, he entertained there several times.
Henry also took over Wolsey’s unfinished tomb at Windsor, having decided that it would make an ideal sepulchre for himself. But the work proceeded in fits and starts, and the tomb, with its golden effigy on a black marble sarcophagus embellished at each corner with nine-foot-high bronze pillars adorned with angels bearing candlesticks, would still not be completed at the time of Henry’s death.
Cardinal College, however, did not survive Wolsey’s fall. Many of the lands that supported it were “begged away to hungry courtiers,” 22 and when the Master and Fellows begged the King to save the rest, he gave a vague promise to found his own “honourable college, but not of such magnificence as my Lord Cardinal intended to have.”23 It would be seventeen years before he kept his word.
For the next two years, Henry ruled England alone, determined that in future he would manage his own affairs.24 For the first time in years, he bore the sole responsibility for his kingdom, and he found it a heavy one. Initially, he told the Queen that Wolsey had left affairs in such a chaotic state that he would have to work day and night to set everything in order.25 Yet it soon became clear just how many of the burdens of state the Cardinal had shouldered, and the King soon lost patience with his councillors, shouting that Wolsey had been “a better man than any of them for managing matters” and stamping out of the council chamber in disgust at their incompetence.26
However, ruling autonomously gave Henry a new confidence and authority, and his political and personal priorities led him to forge increasingly aggressive policies. Driven by the unshakeable conviction that he was right to demand the annulment of his marriage—“not because so many say it, but because he, being learned, knoweth the matter to be right”27—he relied more and more on his own judgement and political instincts. He also paid greater attention to paperwork: Erasmus noted in 1529 that the King personally corrected and amended his letters, often drafting up to four versions before he was satisfied.28
Wolsey’s fall resulted in the promotion of several courtiers. Norfolk and Suffolk were made joint Presidents of the Council. Norfolk had envisaged that his career would flourish once the Cardinal was out of the way, but was to find himself outmanoevred by cleverer men. Moreover, his policies were invariably directed by his own insecurities, for it was his constant fear that the King might restore Wolsey to his former place.
Henry appointed as his secretary a canon and civil lawyer from Cambridge, Dr. Stephen Gardiner, an able but rather arrogant and difficult man 29 of about thirty-two, who had been one of Wolsey’s secretaries. Gardiner was in many ways a conservative, but his overriding belief in absolute monarchical authority, and his hostility towards the Queen for defying it, made him an ideal royal servant. He was of swarthy complexion, and had a hooked nose, deep-set eyes, a permanent frown, huge hands, and a “vengeable wit.” 30He was ambitious, sure of himself, irascible, astute, and worldly. Henry came to rely on him, sending him on important diplomatic missions and telling everyone that, when Gardiner was away, he felt as if he had lost his right hand; yet he was also aware that the Secretary could be two-faced. 31 Gardiner was successful in his career because he understood “his master’s nature” and knew how to manipulate him.32
The final, and most important, new appointment was that of Sir Thomas More as Lord Chancellor of England, on 26 October 1529; Sir William Fitzwilliam was made Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster in his place. Suffolk had been the King’s first choice for the post of Lord Chancellor, but a jealous Norfolk opposed it on the grounds that Suffolk was powerful enough. But More did not want to be Chancellor: he was reluctant to become embroiled in the Great Matter because he knew that his views did not coincide with the King’s. Henry overruled his doubts, assuring him that that he need play no part in the nullity proceedings; More might “look first unto God and, after God, to him.” Eustache Chapuys, the new imperial ambassador who had come to replace Mendoza, declared, “There never was nor will be a chancellor as honest and so thoroughly accomplished as he.” 33
More cared nothing for the pomp and show of his office, and hated wearing his gold chain of office. When his friend Norfolk, visiting him at Chelsea, found him in a plain gown, singing with the local church choir, he tutted, “God body, God body, my Lord Chancellor! A parish clerk! A parish clerk! You dishonour the King and his office!”34 More was unmoved. There were more important matters to occupy his mind, such as the Lutheran heresy that was spreading in England, which More particularly deplored. During his time as Chancellor, he would deal severely with reformers and those who spread sedition, and he regarded the burning of six heretics as “lawful, necessary and well done.”35 William Tyndale, the exiled reformist translater of the Bible, against whom More had written a vicious diatribe, called him “the most cruel enemy of truth.” 36
Such was the new order, yet “above everyone,” noted du Bellay, was “Mademoiselle Anne,” whose word was law to the King.
It seemed that the nullity suit might drag on indefinitely, yet a solution appeared to be at hand. On 29 August 1529, Stephen Gardiner and Edward Foxe, the King’s Almoner, brought an obscure cleric, Thomas Cranmer, whom they had known at Cambridge, to see Henry at Greenwich. They had met him while staying at a house near Waltham Abbey, on their way back from Rome, and been impressed with his views on the Great Matter. Cranmer declared that it was a theological issue that could not be dealt with under canon law, and suggested that the King canvas the universities of Europe, where were to be found the greatest experts on theology.
Henry was very impressed with the short, slight, and scholarly cleric. “That man hath the sow by the right ear!” he declared, and ordered Lord Rochford to take Cranmer into his household and appoint him his chaplain; Cranmer, in turn, was to write a treatise on his views, and in January 1530, armed with this, the King sent his envoys to every university, asking for their views.
Thomas Cranmer was to become one of Henry’s staunchest supporters and a great partisan of the Boleyns. A keen advocate of reform, who was already secretly flirting with Lutheranism, he had won a fellowship at Jesus College, but been expelled for getting married. After his first wife, a barmaid called “Black Joan,” died in childbirth, he was reelected to his fellowship, took holy orders, then went to Germany, where he became involved in reformist circles and married the niece of the Lutheran theologian Andreas Osiander; she bore Cranmer three children. During Henry’s lifetime, he had to keep their union secret, because in England the clergy were supposed to be celibate, and he was obliged to smuggle his wife into the country in a packing case.
By November 1529, Anne was constantly at Henry’s side, acting as if she were already queen. She occupied the consort’s chair at feasts and wore rich gowns of purple—a colour reserved for royalty—which the King had given her. His Privy Purse accounts show that he spent the equivalent of £165,000 on gifts for Anne during a period of three years.37 Among his offerings were lengths of velvet, satin, and cloth of gold for gowns; furs; fine linen for chemises; and precious stones to adorn her clothes. There were also numerous items of jewellery such as necklaces, brooches, bracelets, gold trinkets to sew on her gowns, borders of jewels and pearls to edge those gowns, heart-shaped head ornaments, nineteen diamonds to wear in her hair, one ring set with emeralds and another with a table diamond, nineteen smaller diamonds forming lovers’ knots, and twenty-one rubies set in gold roses, and even “a crown of gold.” All were made by the King’s jeweller, Cornelius Heyss.38 Anne also owned initial pendants and rings and a bracelet set with a miniature of the King, which he had given to her early on in their courtship.39 Her jewel box, a small bound chest, is now at Leeds Castle.
Katherine, meanwhile, was keeping mostly to her own apartments, doing her best to maintain friendly relations with Henry whenever she saw him. But when Henry dined with her on 30 November, her guard fell and she reproached him bitterly for having neglected her of late. Henry bore this patiently, but when he returned to Anne later that evening, she told him he should not argue with Katherine because she “was sure to have the upper hand,” and then began making peevish complaints about the delays in the nullity suit. She even hinted she might leave him, declaring she was wasting her youth “to no purpose.”40
Soon afterwards, Anne caught a Groom of the Privy Chamber taking linen to the Queen; when tackled, he said that Katherine was going to make Henry some shirts, as she always had. Anne thereupon created a scene: an expert needlewoman herself, she was furious that Henry had not chosen to give the linen to her. But Henry was a creature of habit and insisted that it had been sent on his orders, and that he would not countermand those orders.41 Both these quarrels ended in a passionate reconciliation.
Katherine had a staunch new champion in Eustache Chapuys, a fellow humanist and friend of Erasmus; his zeal for her cause would often lead him to exceed his ambassadorial brief. Aged forty, he was a highly efficient canon lawyer and former ecclesiastical judge from Savoy, able, astute, and never afraid to speak his mind. Yet although he spoke excellent French, Spanish, and Latin, his command of English was less good, so he employed the Queen’s former Usher, Juan de Montoya, who was fluent in the language, as his secretary.
Chapuys’s dispatches, which are one of the chief sources for the period, were certainly prejudiced in Katherine’s favour—he never referred to Anne Boleyn as anything other than “the Lady” or “the Concubine,” even when she was Queen. He also repeated gossip or rumour as fact. Historians have therefore been cautious about accepting his reports at face value. It has even been asserted that Chapuys rarely attended functions at court. Yet he dined often with the King’s ministers, and had numerous influential contacts and an efficient spy network in the royal household. Very rapidly, he became a focus for those aristocrats who supported the Queen, and, on the Emperor’s instructions, used all his resources to form them into an effective faction. However, the information they gave him led him to believe that support for Katherine was more widespread than it actually was, and that most English people were prepared to rise in her favour. The King was frequently irritated by Chapuys, but genuinely liked him, sometimes confided in him, and often deliberately fed him information.42 The Boleyns loathed him, and while some councillors believed him to be a liar and flatterer who had no regard for honesty or truth, he would probably have said the same about them.
It is was to Chapuys that Sir Nicholas Carew revealed his growing sympathy for the Queen and the Princess Mary. A friend of Exeter, Carew had begun to feel alienated by Anne Boleyn’s abuse of her position and overbearing manner. Chapuys, realising that Carew was a powerful force in the Privy Chamber, was hopeful that he might be able to influence events, but for the present Carew preferred to keep his loyalties a secret.43
Anne’s high-handedness was beginning to offend some of those who had hitherto supported her. Moreover, many people were concerned about her religious sympathies. She and her family were known to favour the reform of the Church and an evangelical approach to religion, which was dangerously close to what Luther preached, although some of their ideas were heavily influenced by the teachings of Erasmus. At a time when it was unthinkable that an individual should dare to interpret the Scriptures for himself, the Boleyns were therefore accused by Chapuys and others of being “more Lutheran than Luther himself ” and of supporting “heretical doctrines and practices.” The ambassador denounced Anne herself, with good reason, as “the principal cause of the spread of Lutheranism in this country.”44 Anne certainly gave credence to this view, which became widely accepted in the reign of her Protestant daughter Elizabeth I, by her support of various reformers who were openly challenging the traditional teachings of the Church; on several occasions she used her influence to save heretics from persecution.45
She even read with impunity books that had been banned in England, which she may have found in the royal library, where Henry kept them for reference. If not, they were easily come by, for Chapuys states that “certain Lutheran books in English, of an evil sort,” were always circulating at court, despite efforts to suppress them.46 One book Anne probably obtained from abroad was William Tyndale’s The Obedience of a Christian Man (1528), which criticised the papacy and emphasised the authority of monarchs. She had first lent it to her maid, Anne Gainsford, whose betrothed, George Zouche, playfully snatched it from her. But he was caught with it, and Wolsey, who was then still in power, resolved to report the matter to the King. Anne got to Henry first and, on her knees, urged him to read the book. To his surprise, he found himself agreeing with Tyndale’s views, and he announced, “This is a book for me and all kings to read!” However, it remained on the banned list because the King did not think it suitable for commoners.47
Another anticlerical book that Anne recommended to him was A Supplication for the Beggars (1529), by Simon Fish, a lawyer who had fled into exile after falling foul of Wolsey. Henry, who was now, perhaps understandably, becoming more receptive to criticism of the Church, again liked what he read, and thus Anne secured his protection for the author.48
Anne was nevertheless orthodox in the observance of her faith, and no one ever accused her of heresy. She liked the images and ritual of the Catholic Church. Before her death she had the Sacrament placed in her closet “that she might pray for mercy” with it in her sight,49 and expressed the conviction that she was destined for Heaven “because she had done many good deeds.”50 Many of the devotional books she owned were written on traditional themes, such as the Book of Hours of the Blessed Virgin Mary, with a calendar of saints’ days; Anne had written in it a message to Henry VIII, “By daily proof you shall me find, to be to you both loving and kind,” but her signature has been cut off.51 Some of her books were beautifully illuminated and bound, among them a fine French Psalter dating from 1529–1532,52 and a second Book of Hours, printed in Paris around 1528, said to have been given by Anne on the scaffold to Wyatt’s sister, Margaret, Lady Lee, and now at Hever Castle. It is inscribed in her own hand, “Remember me when you do pray, that hope doth lead from day to day.”
However, she differed from many of her orthodox contemporaries in her belief that the Bible should be read in the vernacular. She herself owned French versions of the Scriptures: during Lent, 1529, Loys de Brun, the author of a treatise on letter writing which was dedicated to Anne, saw her reading the Epistles of St. Paul in French and other translations of the Bible,53 and there is evidence that she ordered such books from France.54 The King was not opposed in principle to the Bible being translated into English, but disapproved of the existing reformist versions, which in his view only encouraged heresy.55
Anne’s identification of herself with the cause of reform led to a further realignment of factions at court, with the result that those who supported the Queen also favoured the preservation of traditional forms of religion in England. The supporters of Anne were invariably committed to reform. In this climate, on 2 November 1529, the King summoned what was to become known as the Reformation Parliament.
Henry’s son Richmond was now ten. The boy had his father’s passion for field sports, and had been delighted to receive some fine bloodhounds from his cousin James V of Scotland; smaller bloodhounds that could fit onto a man’s saddle were specially bred for him at Sheriff Hutton. Richmond enjoyed hunting with the many northern nobles who sought his company, and the fellowship of his uncles, George and William Blount, who lodged permanently in his household. But the King was concerned to hear that his son was no longer applying himself diligently to his studies;56 he therefore recalled Richmond, and made Cuthbert Tunstall, soon to replace Wolsey as Bishop of Durham, President of the Council of the North.
The young Duke was from now on based chiefly at Windsor, and John Palsgrave replaced Richard Croke as his tutor. Palsgrave, a Cambridge scholar in holy orders who had written the first French grammar book for English students, had once been French master and secretary to Henry’s sister Mary. A respected humanist scholar and disciple of Erasmus, he was friendly with More, and had a reputation for achieving success with reluctant pupils. The King himself interviewed him at Hampton Court, saying, “Palsgrave, I deliver unto you my worldly jewel: bring him up in virtue and learning.” 57
Several surviving letters from Palsgrave to the King, Sir Thomas More, and Elizabeth Blount give details of how the tutor overcame Richmond’s problems. He found that the boy could not pronounce Latin like a King’s son because he had lost his front teeth and lisped; in addition, his diction was awful. Palsgrave’s remedy was to reawaken the boy’s interest by studying a funny play by Plautus. When Fitzroy wearied of study, Palsgrave called a halt. He did his “uttermost best to cause him to love learning and be merry at it”—so much so that “his officers wot not whether I learn with him or play with him.” Soon Palsgrave was able to report to Elizabeth Blount that Richmond was again showing an aptitude for learning and was “much inclined to all manner of virtuous and honourable inclinations as any babes living.”58 He developed a fine Italianate hand and manifested the family talent for music, as well as becoming a superb horseman, like his father.
After a while, Richmond went to live with his former tutor, Richard Croke, at King’s College, Cambridge, where he studied a wider curriculum under humanist disciplines in the company of other well-born youths, who in their leisure time hunted with him and taught him the kind of songs that would have made his royal father blush.
The Boleyns now reigned supreme. On 8 December 1529, Anne’s father was created Earl of Wiltshire and Ormonde; the former earldom had once been held by the Staffords, while the latter was granted to Boleyn after a long dispute with his Butler cousins, whose family had long held the title. His daughter was from henceforth titled the Lady Anne Rochford, and took as her personal badge the black lion rampant, a device used by previous earls of Ormonde.
On the same day, two allies of the Boleyns were also promoted to the peerage: George Hastings was created Earl of Huntingdon, and Robert Ratcliffe Earl of Sussex. At Anne Boleyn’s request, George Boleyn, now Lord Rochford and an established diplomat, was around the same time restored to the Privy Chamber as one of only two noblemen, Exeter being the other. This brought him into daily contact with the King, who often lost to him at gambling, and once generously paid the arrears of rent due on Rochford’s house at Greenwich. 59
On 9 December, the King gave a lavish banquet to celebrate Wiltshire’s ennoblement. Katherine did not attend, and Anne sat in the Queen’s chair, next to Henry, and was given precedence over another Queen, Henry’s sister Mary, Duchess of Suffolk, and the Duchess and Dowager Duchess of Norfolk, all of whom took offence at the slight. Chapuys thought it seemed like a wedding feast: “After dinner, there was dancing and carousing, so that it seemed that nothing were wanting but the priest to give away the nuptial ring and pronounce the blessing.”60
The Queen again presided with the King over the splendid Christmas festivities at Greenwich, while Anne was conspicuous by her absence. She was perhaps unaware, therefore, that he had sent Wolsey an intaglio portrait of himself as a sign of goodwill.61 After the celebrations, Henry sent Katherine to Richmond and took Anne to York Place, for which he had drawn up designs for improvements that were “expressly to please the Lady, who prefers that place to any other.”62 It was here, on 12 January 1530, that Henry and Anne hosted a magnificent ball in honour of the departing Jean du Bellay.63
Twelve days later, Wiltshire was appointed Lord Privy Seal and promoted to the Privy Council, of which he became one of the most active members. The Boleyns and their allies now dominated the King, the government, and the court. Even Erasmus sought their favour: it was at this time that he dedicated his commentary on the Twenty-third Psalm to Wiltshire and sent his portrait to Henry Norris. Yet within a short time, the power of the Boleyns would be eclipsed by a rival who was eventually to destroy them.