Advent: first the fast and then the feast. In the store rooms, raisins, almonds, nutmegs, mace, cloves, liquorice, figs and ginger.
Christmas Eve was the last night of fasting – traditionally, families brought home large logs, which were then decorated with ribbons and placed upon the hearth, burning throughout the 12 days of Christmas.
Christmas Day began before dawn with Mass, with each member of the congregation holding a lit taper. More masses would be held a little later in the day. In preparation for the highly anticipated feast to come, plum porridge would be served, thought to line the stomach prior to the main meal of the day. Not to be confused with its later incarnation as a plum pudding, this was a thick broth of mutton or beef, which was boiled along with plums, spices, dried fruits, breadcrumbs and wine. Then, finally, the country broke its fast with the Christmas feast, which heralded the 12 days of Christmas. The Tudor court became a scene of chaotic mirth and opulence, with over 1,000 people dining at the court. For Christmas dinner, almost every household would have enjoyed the seasonal favourite – brawn – a dish made from the head of a cow or pig. For wealthy households, and certainly at court, the feasts were not just about the food, but an extravagant display of wealth and ingenuity. The first course was traditionally a boar’s head, which had been stuffed with mince, smeared with mustard and dressed in rosemary, bay leaves and various exotic spices. An apple was placed in its mouth and it was carried into the Great Hall on a great platter by the Steward of the Household. This was only the beginning. It might take less time to list the meats which did not adorn the great tables of the court, but among other dishes, the king and his court would have feasted on swan, peacock, goose, pheasant and an assortment of game birds and fowl. Turkeys were introduced during Henry’s reign, and he was one of the first kings to include it as part of the Christmas feast. The Tudor Christmas pie was also a spectacle. A carnivore’s delight, the contents consisted of a turkey, stuffed with a goose, stuffed with a chicken, stuffed with a partridge and then stuffed with a pigeon. These were sealed within a pastry case called a coffin, and served alongside hare, and any other birds that had not made it into the main pastry case.
Not that Christmas was simply about eating. The 12 days of revelry were punctuated by a host of festive activities, from pageants to masques, all presided over by the Lord of Misrule, rather than the king, who also had to obey the temporary Lord throughout the festivities. ‘Boy bishops’, chorister boys chosen from cathedral choirs, took the place of adult prelates and were allowed the same privileges as Lords of Misrule. Appointed on St Nicholas Day, 6 December, they ‘held office’ until 28 or 29 December; they were treated as if they were actual bishops, enjoyed real episcopal power and took all the services the adult bishop would have taken, with Mass being the only exception.
Throughout the series, Cromwell experiences very different Christmases. Before the death of his wife and daughters, he remembers making his daughter Grace a set of wings for the nativity play, but rather than the usual goose feathers, he makes them out of peacock feathers. It is also at Christmastide when Anne Boleyn first appears at court, dancing during the Christmas feast, in a yellow dress. Moving forwards through the years of Wolf Hall, Cromwell is summoned just after Christmas, at a time when it was believed that again the walls between this world and the afterlife thinned, and the dead walked among the living. Henry tells of a dream in which he saw his dead brother, Prince Arthur:
He looked sad, so sad. He seemed to say I stood in his place. He seemed to say, you have taken my kingdom, and you have used my wife. He has come back to make me ashamed.
We also see Cromwell’s household coming together for their own festivities throughout the 1530s as Cromwell’s position at court strengthens. It was the custom to exchange gifts at New Year, and for the court these presents could be deeply political. In Wolf Hall, Henry rather greedily questions Chapuys, the Imperial ambassador, about the offerings he may receive from the Emperor, adding ‘The French have already made me great gifts.’
The Feast of the Epiphany on 6 January marked the end of the processions, feasts and festivities, but the Yuletide season officially ended on 2 February, with the solemn celebration of Candlemas, the feast of the Purification of the Virgin Mary. Every church would be aglow with hundreds of candles when the king and queen made their procession to Mass. A new year had begun, but it was anyone’s guess during Henry’s reign who would live to see it out.
THE TRAPPINGS OF A GENTLEMAN
Sport and pastimes in Tudor England evolved depending on the preferences of each monarch. Henry VII was fond of hunting throughout his life, and despite his deteriorating eyesight in his later years, he continued to indulge in the sport. Henry VIII, however, excelled at everything in his youth. The court bubbled with entertainment – gambling, playing shuffleboard and tennis in Henry’s palaces and, in good weather, hunting, hawking, archery contests and racing greyhounds. But sport and leisure were controlled by the government, dictating crucial aspects according to one’s rank and ensuring a distance between commoners and the nobility. Henry VIII passed a law in 1512 which banned commoners from indulging in leisurely pursuits such as tennis, cards, dice, bowls and skittles. Only during the Christmas season were these laws relaxed, but there were still certain activities, such as jousting and hunting, that belonged solely to the higher echelons of society.
HUNTING
Like jousting, one had to be of a certain rank or status to be able to participate in the hunt. And, like jousting, it was believed that hunting kept one physically and mentally fit in preparation for war, should one arise. The royal hunt was quite the spectacle, with the nobles of the court, including women, riding out on horseback with their respective dogs – spaniels, buckhounds or greyhounds. Certain breeds were used to track the animal, while others would be used to bring it down. Even the dogs one owned were a symbol of status or position and a matter of pride – the wrong size or colour could expose one to mockery, which Gregory Cromwell tries to explain to his father in Wolf Hall. His black greyhounds are a source of amusement, ‘They say, why would you have dogs that people can’t see at night? Only felons have dogs like that.’
The hunt commenced with loud trills of the Huntmaster’s whistle, which would send the dogs tearing into the forest followed by their owners. Henry could spend the whole day in the saddle; the duration of the hunt dependent on whether he brought his prey to the ground. There were numerous royal parks attached to the various palaces that were ideal for hunting, but when the court was in progress, Henry often stayed in hunting lodges or with his hosts, members of the nobility, who had to ensure their own lands were suitably well stocked.
Henry VIII loved to hunt with his companions, but several of his queens often participated too. Throughout Henry’s courtship of Anne she often accompanied him, also taking pleasure in the sport. Even in a letter written by Henry to Anne in the early days of their affair, he boasted of a stag he had hunted: ‘And to cause you yet oftener to remember me, I send you, by the bearer of this, a buck killed late last night by my own hand, hoping that when you eat of it you may think of the hunter.’ But in Wolf Hall Cromwell observes: ‘You do not know where the chase will end, or when.’
HAWKING
Hawking or falconry, the hunting of small wild game or birds using highly trained birds of prey, had existed for centuries in Europe and Asia, and was something of a sport as well as an art form. It was one of the most popular sports of the aristocracy, among women and men alike, with Henry VIII rearing flocks of birds such as pheasant specifically for the sport. Unlike jousting or hunting, commoners could own birds of prey, but the strict hierarchy attached to it, namely the type of bird you could own, demonstrated your status. Kings and emperors would use rarer birds such as eagles, gyrfalcons or merlins; dukes could own merlins or goshawks; earls were allowed to own peregrine falcons; and commoners could only use sparrowhawks. Courtiers paid a hefty price if they owned a bird above their station. Hawking was expensive –
the birds had to be trained and then housed in mews, but it was all part of the display; even the quality of the equipment used by Henry and his nobles was a testament to their wealth and taste. Henry owned a range of hawking paraphernalia, including hawk’s hoods studded with jewels, gold and silver whistles used to direct the birds, and velvet gauntlets on which they would perch. Throughout the series, Henry is often hawking, and as the books progress, it is Cromwell who joins him, a subtle display of his growing influence and position within the court.
JOUSTING
Jousting was, without doubt, the most exclusive and prestigious activity throughout England and Europe in the 16th century. It was a favourite of Henry VIII, who had not been allowed to participate in his youth as the only surviving male heir, but with good reason. For all its glamour and spectacle, it was not for show, but rather an intensely physically demanding sport, requiring strength, a high level of fitness, agility and prowess. Participants not only had to stay upright on their horse attired in heavy armour, they also had to balance, aim the lance and charge, bracing for the inevitable contact, which might result in the opponent’s lance splintering into the body, face or worse. Henry and the young men of court often participated, but even the older generation, men like Thomas Boleyn and the Duke of Norfolk, took part.
Jousting became a highly formalized and detailed event, which required a great deal of planning. Two challengers were placed at either end of a rectangular area known as the ‘list’, with a ‘tilt’, a wooden barrier running down the middle of the area that designated their side. This was an opportunity not only to show off one’s athletic skills, but for the monarchs and their court to show their wealth and power. From the specially built stands draped with royal and noble heraldry to the decorations and attire of the court, the theme of chivalry and majesty was projected on a public stage, not just for the commoners to enjoy, but also for foreign dignitaries and ambassadors, who reported to their masters all the splendour they witnessed.
The aim of the joust was to strike one’s opponent on specific parts of their armour or their shield. Failing that, they would also attempt to unseat their opponent. Points were awarded depending on where a blow was struck or if either opponent broke their lance on the other. These lances were not sharpened, but they were still dangerous enough to cause serious damage. In Bring Up the Bodies, Cromwell notes the points awarded did not represent the true cost of the sport:
A touch on the breastplate is recorded, but not fractured ribs. A touch on the helm is recorded, but not a cracked skull.
Henry VIII jousted on countless occasions throughout his reign, from his coronation, at the birth of his son, Henry, who died after only a few months, during the Field of Cloth of Gold in Calais, to celebrate his marriage to Anne Boleyn and to celebrate the death of his first queen, Katherine, in 1536 – the final time Henry would joust.
MEN OF THE PRIVY CHAMBER
The young Henry was a true Renaissance prince. He had a love of art and architecture, could play and compose music (with varying degrees of success) spoke several languages and loved to discuss theology. But he was also fantastically fit and blessed with an athletic build, and he ensured that the men who served him from his Privy Chamber were equally handsome young men with whom he could hunt, joust, gamble, drink, and woo the occasional young woman.
Henry would rather spend a day hunting with his close friends than in a Privy Council meeting, and as a result they wielded enormous influence over the young king. The men, derided as ‘minions’, often ignored protocol and overstepped their boundaries with the king, much to Wolsey’s chagrin. As Henry aged, he continued to appoint young men who made him feel as though he, too, was still a young man. But being close to the centre of power was a double-edged sword. Some of Henry’s Gentlemen of the Privy Chamber enjoyed hugely successful careers, others faced the axeman, and even worse.
WILLIAM COMPTON
Despite being what historian Polydore Vergil described as the ‘primus minister in regis cubiculo’ – premier member of the Privy Chamber and Groom of the Stool – William Compton does not appear in Mantel’s series. Compton was a ward of Henry VII and grew up alongside the young Prince Henry. Understandably, they forged an enduring relationship, as he became Henry’s most trusted companion. Compton was not unlike the young king – blond, tall and slender. Considered to be handsome and athletic, Compton was as physically active as his young king, and dedicated to leisurely pursuits. Yet the amount of power Compton wielded once Henry VIII ascended the throne was unprecedented. Henry gifted him several highly lucrative positions, including Lord Chancellor of Ireland, Sheriff of Worcestershire and Sheriff of Somerset, and Compton would manage more royal estates than any other courtier.
Crucially, his appointment as Groom of the Stool made him the closest companion Henry had in his inner chambers. Compton made use of this position – he was something of a gatekeeper and would act as intermediary if the royal signature was required; even Wolsey had to go via Compton. But for courtiers he was a founder of fortunes, and any courtier who sought favour or position at court approached Compton first. It is impossible to know how Compton’s career or friendship with Henry would have fared under the pressure of his courtship with Anne. In 1528, Compton was among thousands, including Anne Boleyn and her father Thomas, to catch the sweating sickness – they recovered, but Compton did not survive. While mourned, his death opened up a prime position in the Privy Chamber but also allowed other young men to enjoy Henry’s favour and patronage.
HENRY NORRIS
Henry Norris, born in 1482, was nine years older than the king, and one of the oldest men in Henry’s inner circle. He began his career as a page and worked his way up, landing a position as a Gentleman of the Privy Chamber in 1517, a place from where he would enjoy Henry’s favour and thereby accrue land and offices. Henry Norris was a popular man at court, renowned for his jousting abilities and athleticism, which is likely why Henry chose him for the highly coveted position of Groom of the Stool in 1526. In the series, Norris is a hard man to read, and Cromwell distrusts his easy-going charm. We first come across him in Wolf Hall, riding hard to overtake the disgraced Cardinal in order to deliver a message from Henry. Norris gives Wolsey the king’s ring, causing Wolsey to jump from off his mule and into the mud, crying, Cromwell notes. It is a sight Cromwell will not forget, his master in the mud, with a man he feels is false and disingenuous.
Historically, Norris had a reputation at court for being a man of integrity and chivalry – we see this when Henry VIII deliberately humiliated Wolsey after the disastrous Legatine trial by having no room reserved for him when he and Cardinal Campeggio visited the King, and it was Norris who quietly offered Wolsey his own room. Norris belonged to a personal echelon of court, which not even Cromwell could penetrate; it was a battle for influence.
We see this in Bring Up the Bodies, when the king is escorting Imperial ambassador Chapuys into his chambers, and Cromwell seeks to follow:
But here is Norris blocking his path. In his Moorish drapery, his face blacked, he is playful, smiling, but still vigilant.
To the historical and fictional Cromwell, Norris was a charming man who needed to be removed from Henry’s sphere of influence.
ANTHONY DENNY
Anthony Denny, an ally of Cromwell’s (and enemy of Stephen Gardiner’s), does not appear in Mantel’s series, but he was one of the more educated and well-to-do young men of the Privy Chamber. Denny was one of the king’s closest confidants, and while he was not appointed to the Privy Chamber until quite late in his career – 1539 – he was granted lucrative positions, including Keeper of the Privy Purse, and would serve as Henry’s last Groom of the Stool. Denny was an experienced diplomat as well as an accomplished soldier, and joined Henry on his military campaigns to France in the 1540s.
It was to Denny that Henry confessed he was not attracted to the wife Cromwell had procured for him – Anne of Cleves. It was also Denny who helped finalize Henry’s will in 1547, and bra
vely told the king he should prepare for death.
FRANCIS BRYAN
A half-cousin of both Anne Boleyn and Jane Seymour, Francis Bryan, known as the ‘Vicar of Hell’ for his lack of scruples, was one of the chief men of Henry’s Privy Chamber. Bryan enjoyed several influential posts, including Esquire of the Body, but he was notorious for his rowdy behaviour and for overstepping his friendship with the king, and Wolsey had him removed twice from the Privy Chamber in what was known as ‘the expulsion of the minions’, once in 1529 and again in 1526. That year, Bryan lost an eye in a jousting accident and wore an eye patch, which may have been why he was allowed back into the inner sanctum of the Privy Chamber. We see Bryan and Cromwell working together throughout Bring Up the Bodies to bring Anne down. But the alliance, as we see in The Mirror and the Light, is short-lived as Mantel’s Cromwell is not overly fond of Bryan: ‘Sir Francis is intermittently pious, as conspicuous sinners tend to be.’
Mantel describes Byran as an undiplomatic diplomat; certainly Bryan’s reputation preceded him. Appointed as an ambassador to France, he was quickly recalled due to his gambling and drunken behaviour, and Henry never appointed him again. Instead, he became the go-to man for other peculiar and less savoury missions.
THOMAS CULPEPPER
Mantel’s Cromwell has little time for Thomas Culpepper, who crops up in The Mirror and the Light, but historically Culpepper, an ambitious young man who was also a cousin of both Anne Boleyn and Catherine Howard, had several ties to the Cromwells – his older brother was a client of Cromwell and Culpepper had worked with Richard Cromwell.
Wolf Hall Companion Page 8