Another major building project on which the King embarked in 1532 was the embellishment of the chapel of King’s College, Cambridge. He paid for a superb rood screen, organ loft, and stalls, which were wonderfully carved by Italian craftsmen with Henry and Anne’s initials and devices. The King later provided the magnificent stained-glass windows, which were the work of his own glaziers, Galyon Hone and Bernard Flower. These works are some of the most outstanding examples of English Renaissance art to survive from the period.
The improvements at Hampton Court were progressing rapidly. In 1532, work was begun on the vast great hall—106 feet long, 40 feet wide, and 60 feet high—on the site of Wolsey’s old hall, from which the large oriel window by the dais may be a survival. “The King’s new hall” was built of brick and stone in the Perpendicular style, with buttresses surmounted by octagonal turrets bearing the King’s Beasts and gilded vanes; erected at first-floor level, above the cellars, it was designed as the first of the outward apartments, and was accessed by a processional stair. When completed, it would have a tiled floor3 and a fine minstrels’ gallery above an oak screen. Crowning all was a magnificent hammerbeam roof designed by the King’s Master Carpenter, James Nedeham, which was decorated with red, blue, and gold badges and initials—among them those of Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn—as well as figures, antique scrollwork and putti, and elaborate pendants, all carved by the royal joiner, Richard Ridge of London. A three-tiered, hexagonal, domed louvre in the roof let out the smoke from the central hearth. The hall was completed in 1535, and was hung with the tapestries depicting the story of Abraham, which are still there today.4
The hall at Hampton Court, although calculated to impress, was the only one of its type built by Henry VIII, and it was already outdated by the time building work commenced. At several other houses, Henry was demolishing his great halls and replacing them with an outward firstfloor chamber accessed by a great processional, or “halpace,” stair from the courtyard—an arrangement that would endure in English palaces for three hundred years.
Work at York Place was forging ahead. In 1531, the King had aquired the old leper hospital of St. James, which stood in open countryside nearby, and had pensioned off its three remaining inmates and had the old buildings demolished. Between 1532 and 1540 he erected there “a magnificent goodly house”5 as “a residence for the royal children,” 6 which was known as St. James’s House or St. James’s in the Fields. Ranged around four courtyards, it was approached via a mighty gatehouse embellished with octagonal turrets and decorated with a Tudor rose and the initials H and A. The new palace boasted fine royal lodgings, a tennis court, a tiltyard, and a beautiful chapel,7 but no great hall. Out of sixty acres of nearby marshland, which he had drained, the King created St. James’s Park, and he stocked it with deer for his “greater commodity and pleasure.”8 To this he added a hunting chase for his own exclusive use; it stretched as far as Hampstead Heath and Islington. Henry himself rarely stayed at the palace. It was used mainly as a London residence for the Duke of Richmond.
In the summer of 1532, Henry’s new mania for building was extended to the Tower, which he wanted refurbished in time for Anne Boleyn’s coronation, an event which he confidently expected would take place in the near future. At a cost of £3,500 (£1,050,000), Cromwell arranged for the old royal apartments to be gutted, and their walls and ceilings decorated in the antique style. A new Queen’s lodging was built in the Inner Ward, north of the Lanthorn Tower, with a presence chamber, a dining chamber, a bedchamber with a privy, a gallery that led to the King’s apartments, and a bridge across the moat leading to a private garden. A novel “mantel of wainscot with antique” was installed in the dining chamber, and Henry was so pleased with the effect that he began tearing out fireplaces in his other houses and replacing them with similar antique-style mantels. Back at the Tower, St. Thomas’s Tower was converted into new lodgings for court officials, and the White Tower was put in repair.9
In 1532, Andrew Wright replaced John Browne as Serjeant Painter to the King. Essentially a decorative artist, he had commended himself by his work on royal ships, carriages, banners, and pageant scenery. Another artist who may have worked for Henry at this time was one “Ambrose,” who may be identified with Ambrosius Benson, a Lombard who had been a member of the Painters’ Guild of Bruges since 1519. Benson is known for his religious pictures and portraits, and almost certainly painted Lord Berners, the translater of Froissart, but no royal commissions can be traced.10
The work of such artists was soon to be utterly eclipsed by that of Hans Holbein, who returned to England in 1532 and settled in London, where, since his former patron, Sir Thomas More, was no longer in a position to help him, he made a living painting the portraits of the German merchant community. Yet Holbein’s links with the court were by no means broken, and within a year his growing reputation would ensure that he would be again in demand.
In the field of music, as in art, there were rising stars at court. One was a “very handsome”11 young man called Mark Smeaton, who was appointed a Groom of the Privy Chamber in 1532.12 He was not only a gifted player on the lute, virginals, and portable organ, but also an excellent singer and dancer. His talent had been spotted while he was quite young, and he had joined Wolsey’s choir, transferring to the Chapel Royal after the Cardinal’s fall. It was talent alone that accounted for his rise, not birth, since he was merely the son of a carpenter and a seamstress, with whom he now disdained to have much contact.13 He also dressed badly, usually in “yerns” (which have been improbably identified as jeans), and the King occasionally provided him with shirts, hose, shoes, and bonnets.14 People addressed him as Mark, which indicates his lowly status within the Privy Chamber.15
Smeaton, whose name was later to be irrevocably and tragically linked with Anne Boleyn’s, was soon taken up by Lord Rochford, through whom he became associated with the Boleyn circle at court. His signature—“A moi, M. Marc S.”—appears at the bottom of Rochford’s manuscript of Jean Lefèvre’s poems; this manuscript later came into the possession of Wyatt, whose name is written in it, along with a number of proverbs on the flyleaves.16 There is no evidence that Rochford and Smeaton were ever involved in a homosexual relationship, as has recently been suggested. 17
Mark Smeaton has also been associated with a music book written for Anne Boleyn.18 His signature on the Lefèvre manuscript has been identified with the handwriting in this book, from which it has been inferred that he wrote it, but this is by no means certain. The music book is a collection of thirty-nine Latin motets and five French chansons, all written before 1515; among them are works by the great French composer Josquin des Prés, with which Anne had probably become familiar in Burgundy and France. One initial letter depicts what has been described as Anne’s armorial falcon pecking at a pomegranate, the badge of Katherine of Aragon; this, if correct, would date the book’s completion to 1533 at the earliest, since Anne adopted her falcon badge in that year. However, this bird bears no resemblance to Anne’s crowned falcon. Thomas Boleyn’s motto, “Now thus,” also appears, as does a reference to “Mres. [Mistress] A. Bolleyne,” which indicates that the manuscript was begun before December 1529, in which case it cannot have been Smeaton’s work. Anne may even have brought it home with her from France in 1522.
In the summer of 1532, the King and Anne Boleyn left Hampton Court on a progress to Woodstock and Abingdon,19 but this was curtailed for fear of demonstrations against Anne.20 In August, on his return south, Henry visited Waltham Abbey,21 and was then entertained by Sir Thomas Cheney, now Lord Warden of the Cinque Ports, at Shurland House on the Isle of Sheppey in Kent, which had been extended and improved in honour of the King’s coming.22 The King and Anne spent the rest of the summer hunting at Hanworth.
Throughout the progress, Giles de la Pommeraye was at the King’s side; he had come to negotiate a new treaty of friendship between Henry and Francis I and discuss Henry’s forthcoming visit to France, during which the King hoped to persuade Franci
s to intercede on his behalf with Pope Clement VII. In order to win over the French, Henry showed great favour to the ambassador, personally showing him the improvements he had made at the houses they visited, 23 singling him out as his sole companion on hunting expeditions, and inviting him to partner Anne Boleyn in archery contests. When Anne hosted a feast for the King at Hanworth, de la Pommeraye was guest of honour. 24
Henry was feeling far from well at this time. He was suffering from chronic toothache and sinus trouble, as well as gout, which was probably the result of eating too much rich food. Nevertheless, he did not let his ailments interfere with his enjoyment of the progress nor his plans for the French visit. A majority of the universities had declared in his favour, and he was confident that pressure could be brought to bear on Clement to give a decision in his favour. If not, it was open to him to take the ultimate step and break with Rome.
Then, opportunely, on 22 August, Archbishop Warham died, aged eighty-two. As his long life drew to a close, his conscience had finally moved him to condemn the King’s nullity suit and state his intention of opposing any legislation that might be injurious to the Church. Henry had angrily threatened him with the Statute of Praemunire, but the Archbishop was too ill to leave his bed and past worldly considerations. Now he was dead, and the King could choose in his place someone who would prove more amenable. Henry opted for Thomas Cranmer, who was duly elected Archbishop of Canterbury, unopposed by an unsuspecting Pope.
The King was optimistic that Anne would soon be Queen, and on Sunday, 1 September 1532, in order to increase her status, and give her equal rank with some of the noble ladies whom she would meet in France, he took the unusual step of creating her a peeress—Lady Marquess of Pembroke—in her own right, in a glittering ceremony at Windsor. Before mass, Anne, wearing a gown of crimson velvet “completely covered with the most costly jewels,” 25 with her hair loose about her shoulders, was escorted by the Countesses of Rutland and Sussex into the presence chamber. The Duchess of Norfolk appears to have refused to attend,26 so her daughter, Lady Mary Howard, followed behind, carrying a crimson velvet mantle and gold coronet. Anne knelt before the King, who was attended by the Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk and Giles de la Pommeraye, and he invested her with the mantle and coronet as the patent of creation, which also granted her £1,000 a year “for the maintaining of her dignity,” was read aloud by Bishop Gardiner. Then the new Lady Marquess rose, curtseyed, and thanked the King before retiring, to the sound of trumpets, to her chamber.
After mass in St. George’s Chapel, the King and Giles de la Pommeraye both swore to abide by the terms of the new Treaty of Windsor, after which the ambassador was again the guest of honour at a state banquet held in celebration of the new alliance and Anne’s ennoblement.27
41
“The Triumph at Calais and Boulogne”
It appeared significant to some that the patent of creation, when referring to the new Lady Marquess’s heirs male, omitted the usual words “lawfully begotten.” Was Anne’s ennoblement a reward for her surrender and a way of ensuring that any child, legitimate or otherwise, born of her body, was sufficiently provided for? It would seem so. For it is almost certain that, once Warham was dead, Anne, confidently anticipating that she would soon be married, became the King’s mistress in the fullest sense.
Henry was determined that she should be at his side throughout the visit to France, a queen in all but name. He demanded that Katherine surrender the official jewels of the Queens of England, so that Anne could wear them. Katherine indignantly declared she would not give up what was rightfully hers to adorn “a person who is a reproach to Christendom and is bringing scandal and disgrace upon the King through his taking her to such a meeting as this in France.” But the King insisted and she had no choice but to obey.1 Most of the jewels, which included four bracelets with eighteen table rubies, twenty other rubies, and two diamonds, were then reset for Anne.2
Anne was determined to have all the trappings of queenship. Without telling the King, she ordered her Chamberlain to seize the Queen’s barge, a fine vessel with twenty-four oars, and have its coat of arms burned off and replaced with her own; the barge was also painted in Anne’s colours, blue and purple. Chapuys made a formal protest to the King, who angrily censured the Chamberlain.3
Anne then ruffled feathers by ordering some gowns in the French fashion; Polydore Vergil condemned the modes she had copied from the “wanton creatures” at the French court as being “singularly unfit for the chaste.” The French, however, were to be impressed by Anne’s wardrobe, which included a gown of cloth of gold spangled with diamonds, and several items with which the King had provided her: a green damask gown, a gown made entirely of gold-embroidered velvet, which cost £74 (£22,200), silks, furs, and the more intimate gift of a “nightgown” made of fourteen yards of black satin lined with taffeta, banded with velvet, and with upper sleeves stiffened with buckram.4
For all Anne’s grand preparations for the coming visit, no royal lady of the French court could be found to receive her. Henry had no wish to meet Francis’s second queen,5 Eleanor of Austria, who was the Emperor’s sister, and Francis’s own sister Marguerite refused to receive “the King’s whore.”6 Henry was horrified when it was suggested that Francis’s mistress, the Duchess of Vendôme, should do the honours. It was decided, therefore, that Anne should remain in Calais while Henry travelled alone to meet Francis. On 7 October they left Greenwich; among Henry’s retinue of 2,139 persons7 were Richmond, Norfolk, a reluctant Suffolk (whose wife had refused to accompany him),8 Cromwell, Wyatt, and the Gentlemen of the Privy Chamber.9 Anne was attended by thirty ladies, summoned by the King to accompany his “dearest and most beloved cousin.”10 While the main personnel of the court went on ahead to Calais, the royal party spent one night at Stone, the home of one of Anne’s closest friends, Bridget, Lady Wingfield, 11 another at Shurland as the guest of Sir Thomas Cheney, and a third at Canterbury in the house of Sir Christopher Hales. Then they rode to Dover. 12
At 5 A.M. on 11 October 1532, the King and his sweetheart set sail in the Swallow. The wind was fair, and they were in Calais by 10 A.M. After being received by the Mayor and Lord Berners, the King’s Deputy, and riding in torchlit procession to the Church of St. Nicholas to hear mass, they were lodged at the Exchequer,13 a great mansion that had been enlarged against their coming. Henry’s bed had been sent ahead from England and set up in his lodgings, which were hung with green velvet. Anne was assigned a suite of seven rooms, and a connecting door linked her bedchamber to the King’s;14 a French source states that they were living openly together. 15 Anne was certainly accompanying Henry to mass and everywhere else, just as if she were queen already, and there was speculation that Henry would secretly marry her while they were in Calais.16 Anne had hinted as much to her sister back in August, when she wrote bidding Mary prepare to attend her to Calais, where “that which I have so long wished for will be accomplished.”17
In Calais, Henry and Anne spent ten days at leisure, hawking, inspecting the town’s defences, gambling with Norfolk, and other courtiers,18 and feasting on gifts of food sent by Anne de Montmorency, Constable of France: carp and porpoise, venison pasties, choice pears, and grapes. 19
By mutual agreement, the coming visit was to bear no resemblance to the Field of Cloth of Gold: Henry insisted there must be “no precious apparel of gold, nor embroidery, nor any other sort of nonsense.” 20 Each King was to be attended by his household only and six hundred men-at-arms. It had also been decided that Henry and Francis would each bear the cost of entertaining the other. In the event, most of these strictures were ignored, and both sovereigns spent lavishly on their attire and the entertainments: Henry is estimated to have outlaid more than £6,000 (£1,800,000).
On 16 October, Norfolk and Montmorency met to finalise the details, and on 19 October King Francis arrived at Boulogne, where he set up court in the Abbey of Notre Dame. Two days later the two Kings were embracing at St. Inglevert, then known as Sa
ndingfield, near the border of the Calais Pale. Henry, who wore russet velvet with borders of goldsmiths’ work and pearls, had with him an escort of 140 velvet-clad lords and gentlemen, 40 guards, and 600 horse. For a mile, Henry and Francis rode hand in hand; then they stopped to drink a toast to one another near the French border. Hawking along the way, they proceeded towards Boulogne, outside of which they were met by the Dauphin Francis and his two brothers, wearing black velvet edged with silver, who were accompanied by four cardinals and a thousand horse. Henry kissed Francis’s sons on the mouth and embraced them fondly,21 then kissed each of the French lords present. A thousand cannon sounded a deafening salute—which could be heard twenty miles away—as the royal procession entered Boulogne.
Here, Henry lodged with Francis in the Abbey of Notre Dame, in a suite of four chambers hung with cloth of silver and tapestries depicting scenes from Ovid’s Metamorphoses. Every day, he and Francis attended mass in the abbey church, kneeling in separate oratories, and ate in great splendour in the refectory, which had been adorned with tapestries portraying the story of Scipio Africanus. A vast buffet had been set up there, displaying plate glittering with precious gems.
During the four-day visit, an observer noted that the French “far surpassed the English in apparel.” Francis himself once appeared in a doublet “overset with stones and rich diamonds, valued at £100,000” (£30 million),22 and Henry wore an outfit that Francis gave him, a crimson satin doublet encrusted with pearls beneath a long gown of white velvet embroidered in gold.
On the first day, Henry and Francis talked of going on a joint crusade against the Turks, and then went on to discuss the Great Matter. Francis promised to use his influence with the Pope to achieve a favourable outcome, and undertook to dispatch two cardinals to Rome to inform Clement of the alliance and assure him that he need not fear the Emperor.23