by Gwyn, Peter
Wolsey’s first biographer, and household servant, George Cavendish, undoubtedly meant to present his master in a favourable light, or at least, as was indicated earlier, to put the record straight. However, his Life and Death of Cardinal Wolsey was not written until some thirty years after Wolsey’s death, in the late 1550s, and the passage of time did not make for accurate recollection. Moreover, it is important to bear in mind that it is not until after Wolsey’s political disgrace in 1529 that his work becomes anything like a primary source – and for this reason a fuller discussion of the work will be postponed until the final chapter. The simple point to make here is that he did not join Wolsey’s household until probably 1522. His job as gentleman usher only required him to act as a cross between a social secretary and travel agent much involved in planning the frequent movement from place to place of Wolsey’s large household. As such, until the special circumstances of Wolsey’s last year, he was not close to Wolsey, and certainly not informed about matters of state. This comes out very clearly in his book. Only two-fifths of the way through it the matter of Henry’s divorce takes centre stage, and about half of it is devoted to Wolsey’s last year when he was no longer a councillor. Thus, as a source for Wolsey’s political life it has severe limitations.19
The two contemporary historians, Polydore Vergil and Edward Hall, were much less close to Wolsey than Cavendish. Arguably, however, they were both intellectually and politically more literate, though neither was anywhere near the centre of English political life. Something else they shared was a strong dislike of Wolsey. An Italian by birth and upbringing, Vergil came to England in 1502 to be deputy collector of Peter’s Pence – an infrequent and not very onerous papal tax – to a fellow countryman, Adriano Castellessi,20 who happened to be well in with Henry VII; in 1504 Henry had made him bishop of Bath and Wells, perhaps encouraged to do so by his elevation to the office of cardinal the previous year. Vergil quickly established himself in the cultural and intellectual life of London and in 1506 Henry VII asked him to write a history of England. Not surprisingly, the resulting Anglica Historia is an especially important source for that king’s reign and when it first appeared in 1535 ended with Henry VII’s death. However, in a subsequent edition published in 1555, the year of Vergil’s death, he continued the history down to 1537, so that it included the whole of Wolsey’s career – and Wolsey’s first appearance in the book sets the tone for what follows. Commenting on the marriage of Louis XII to Henry VIII’s sister, Mary, in 1514, Vergil wrote:
English affairs thus daily prospered, and in this prosperity Thomas Wolsey gloried exceedingly, as though he alone were responsible for the great good fortune, in that his authority was now supreme with the king. But he was also more hated, not only on account of his arrogance and his low reputation for integrity, but also on account of his recent origins.21
Why Vergil came to hate Wolsey is a complicated story. It has to do in part with rivalries at Rome between Vergil’s original patron, Castellessi, and Silvestro Gigli, another Italian favoured by Henry VII, who appointed him bishop of Worcester; and for a time, at any rate, Gigli was very much in favour with the new king and with Wolsey, and much more so than Castellessi was. It also had to do with rivalries at court between intellectuals, or ‘humanists’ favoured by the old king, such as Vergil, and those favoured by the new king, such as yet another Italian, Andrea Ammonio. Appointed Latin secretary to Henry VIII, Ammonio, in cahoots with Gigli, had designs on Vergil’s post as deputy collector. Vergil thought, perhaps correctly, that Wolsey favoured Ammonio’s designs. It is worth mentioning, however, that in 1514, only a year before the crisis in their relationship occurred, Wolsey had been quite prepared to use Vergil, on a trip to Rome, to push his own claims for a cardinal’s hat, something which was very much a priority of his and the king’s at this time. In February 1515 Vergil returned, but without having achieved anything, not that this was in the first instance held against him. However, very soon Ammonio brought to Wolsey’s attention the fact that Vergil had begun to write letters back to Castellessi in which he was extremely rude about Wolsey. The result was that for a few months Vergil found himself in the Tower, and the following year lost his post as deputy collector. It is not clear from all this that Vergil deserves much sympathy, for in fuelling the opposition to Wolsey in Rome he had been acting in direct contradiction to the king’s wishes. Moreover, the episode cannot have been so unpleasant for him, for he was to stay in England until 1553. Still, it certainly did not predispose him towards Wolsey – and the way he got his own back was to launch a sustained attack on him in his history.22
Edward Hall, the author of The Union of the Two Noble and Illustre Famelies of York and Lancaster, probably never came into contact with Wolsey. It is, therefore, unlikely that his antagonism derived from any personal animus, which has to be an argument for taking it more seriously. What does need to be borne in mind is that Hall had a very definite point of view. How typical it was of his London mercantile background is difficult to determine; he himself became a lawyer, but as under-sheriff of the City, he remained closely associated with its affairs. It is not at all clear that such circles were hostile to Wolsey, at least not in any consistent way. What Hall did share with many Englishmen was an intense francophobia. He was also very anti-clerical, supportive of the break with Rome, and indeed everything that Henry VIII did. He may even have been a Protestant, though there are difficulties in calling anybody that in the 1530s and 1540s when the religious divisions were still so confused.23 Still, none of these things was likely to have made Hall sympathetic to someone who was not only a cardinal, but who was rather inclined to favour an alliance with the French. Not surprisingly, given his Protestant bias, Hall was not very sympathetic to Sir Thomas More, wondering, when commenting upon his execution, whether he should be called ‘a foolish wiseman or a wise foolish man’.24 It is a comment that has not influenced subsequent judgments on the future saint nearly as much as his many adverse comments on Wolsey – but then More was a common lawyer, a Speaker of the House of Commons, and, though obviously very Catholic, had never dressed up in red!
The present point is not that either Vergil or Hall was necessarily wrong about Wolsey – though this will become the argument – but that they were expressing not facts but their interpretation of them. In other words, their works are not primary sources, however tempting as readily available and contemporary accounts of Wolsey’s political career it may be to use them as such. And just because their works have been of such easy access, their influence has been very pervasive, and always will be, even when historians are aware of the pitfalls. Most of the adverse judgments about Wolsey can be traced directly back to them, for it did not need the advent of the computer for it to become virtually impossible to remove or amend something once it has got into print. And if by any chance the source for these judgments is not Vergil or Hall, it is probably John Skelton.
In a recent study, it has been persuasively argued that Skelton was not just the crude ‘Wolsey-basher’ that he has usually been taken to be, nor was he even the paid hack of the Howards, that leading noble family supposedly dedicated to bringing Wolsey down.25 Nevertheless, in two poems especially, Speke Parott and Why come ye nat to Courte?, Henry VII’s poet laureate and tutor to his son and eventual heir, savaged Wolsey in one Skeltonic couplet after another. In some ways this has made it easier, for, unlike the two historians, it has been obvious to all that the poet was making no pretence at objectivity. Yet a few lines of poetry can be more destructive than any amount of prose; witness Dryden’s portrayal of the first earl of Shaftesbury as Achitophel, or Shelley’s two-line assassination of Castlereagh: ‘I met murder on the way … /He had a face like Castlereagh’.26 The force of Skelton’s attack is cumulative, and thus does not lend itself to brief quotation; but, even when not at his rudest, his verse has had an enormous influence on the way people have looked at Wolsey. Take, for instance, his answer to his own question, ‘Why come ye nat to Courte?’
To the kynges courte?
Or to Hampton Court?
Nay, to the kynges court!
The kynges courte
Shulde have the excellence;
But Hampton Court
Hath the preemynence!27
Here is the classic expression of the view of Wolsey as alter rex, or, indeed, as not just another king but as almost the sole source of power. It is a view that will be strenuously resisted in this study – but one has a suspicion that in the end Skelton will win out!
The reason for discussing these sources has not been to win sympathy for the poor historian, but, firstly, to alert the reader to some of the more obvious dangers that anyone trying to understand Wolsey must face, and, secondly, to draw attention to my approach, which to some extent has been dictated by the difficulties that the sources present. What follows is something akin to a detective story, in which all the evidence will be treated as clues to be shared with the reader. Of course, all history has an element of the detective story about it – or, to put it another way, involves interpretation. But often it is only the answers that are given, not the workings out; or these are relegated to the footnotes. There are good reasons for this: workings out are often rather confusing, and anyway it is answers that many readers want. Answers will be given here. Indeed, it is hoped that they may be the more persuasive for having the reasons behind them so fully discussed. The result is a more combative and argumentative work than some people will like, but at least they have been warned. And there is this advantage, that by allowing the reader to follow my reasoning so closely, by presenting alternatives, and even occasionally following false trails, he or she will be in a much better position to spot the mistakes, or just to make up his, or her own mind. Such an approach is perhaps especially appropriate where such a major work of restoration is being attempted.
1 Pollard, Wolsey, p.306. Since A.F. Pollard wrote, no further information about Mistress Lark or her children by Wolsey seems to have come to light.
2LP, iv, 4773.
3 Much excellent work is currently being done on all aspects of Wolsey’s artistic patronage; the following papers were presented to a Wolsey conference at Cambridge in September 1988: T. Campbell, ‘Wolsey’s patronage of tapestries’; P. Glanville, ‘Goldsmith’s work in the age of Wolsey’; P. Lindley, ‘Wolsey’s patronage of renaissance sculpture’; S. Thurley, ‘The domestic buildings of Cardinal Wolsey’; and H. Wayment ‘Wolsey and stained glass’. These will appear in ‘Cardinal Wolsey: Church, State and Art’, ed. S.J. Gunn and P. Lindley, and add enormously to our knowledge and understanding of these very important matters. Whether in the end they bring us any closer to Wolsey, the man, is in my view doubtful.
4LP, ii, 4023, 4024, 4025, 4043, 4053, 4055.
5 The two literary works are: Aelfric, ‘First Book of Homilies in Anglo-Saxon’ (BL, Royal MS. 7.C.XII) and Nova legenda Anglie (1516) (Merton Coll. Lib. 87.B.13); the others are a gospel-book (Magdalen Coll MS. latin 223) and epistle-book (Christ Church MS. 101).
6 Cavendish, p.4.
7 Fiddes, p.ii.
8 Pollard’s Wolsey has dominated our perception of Wolsey since it first appeared in 1929 – and in many ways this book is a refutation of it. Elton’s unhappiness with the cardinal is apparent in all that he has written about him, but can be most readily and, in this context, most usefully gauged in his introduction to the Fontana edition of Pollard’s Wolsey, reprinted in his Studies, i, pp.109-28.
9 Originally a play by Robert Bolt.
10 See plate 1; also Strong, pp.335-6.
11 See plate 2; also Campbell, Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes, xl.
12 Rawdon Brown, ii, p.314 (LP, iii, 402).
13Ven. Cal., iii, 232.
14 Skelton, p.308, ll.1169-70. This edition of Skelton’s poems appears to be the best available.
15 Art.6; see LP, iv, 6075, taken from Herbert, pp.294-302.
16Sp. Cal., F.S., p.164 for a specific reference to Wolsey being in danger of losing an eye.
17 Both Pollard and Elton seem to me to be very much part of these two traditions, if the latter in a rather secular guise. For Pollard see Galbraith; also Neale – though the quickest way to understand Pollard’s view of Wolsey is to consult his index.
18 The reference is to Elton’s many treatments of Thomas Cromwell, but see especially Reform and Renewal, and ‘Political creed of Thomas Cromwell’ in Studies, ii.
19 Sadly, there is nothing very helpful on Cavendish, but see R.S. Sylvester’s introduction to the EETS edition, referred to henceforth as Cavendish; for a modernized text see Two Early Tudor Lives, the second life being William Roper’s The Life of Sir Thomas More.
20 In earlier work he often appears as Cardinal Hadrian.
21 Vergil, p.225.
22 D. Hays’s introduction to Vergil and JWCI, XII; also Chambers, ‘English representation’. For Vergil’s offending letter to Castellessi see LP, ii, 215.
23 Surprisingly little work has been done on Hall, but see full entry in Bindoff; also McKisack, Medieval History.
24 Hall, p.817.
25 In G. Walker’s John Skelton, which appeared too late for me to make as much use of it as I would have liked to; but my debt to the author predates its publication.
26 Shelley, The Mask of Anarchy, 1.5.
27 Skelton, p.289, II.402-9.
CHAPTER ONE
FROM BUTCHER’S CUR TO LORDLY PRELATE
THE FIRST QUESTION THAT ANYONE INTERESTED IN WOLSEY IS BOUND TO ask is how it was that a not particularly well-connected fellow of Magdalen College, Oxford, became a cardinal and lord chancellor of England, and for fifteen years was Henry VIII’s leading councillor – and it is an answer to such a question that this chapter seeks to provide. In doing so, it focuses on a subject which is anyway at the very heart of this book, the nature of the relationship between Wolsey and his king. Inevitably, the concentration will be on what attracted the two men to each other in the first place and the chronology of the early stages of the relationship. In particular, it will seek to determine at what moment Wolsey became Henry’s leading councillor, or, as most accounts would have it, took over the reins of government. By and large it has been an early date that has been favoured; as early as the autumn of 1511, when England joined the Holy League against France, but certainly by the early summer of 1513 when Henry VIII, accompanied by Wolsey, led an expedition into France.1 Such datings will be resisted, as, indeed, will be the view that Wolsey ever held the reins of power, if this is taken to mean that Henry VIII did not. Instead, the argument will be that at least until the signing of peace with France in 1514, the lord privy seal, Richard Fox, with years of experience behind him as one of Henry VII’s leading advisers, played as important a role in major decision making as Wolsey did, even though he was increasingly anxious to retire. One consequence of this argument is that the decisions themselves, mainly to do with the conduct of foreign policy, will only be discussed insofar as they relate to Wolsey’s rise to prominence. Another is that this chapter concerns itself not only with his relationship with Henry, but with such people as Fox, and Fox’s alleged arch-rival, Thomas Howard earl of Surrey. This in turn will inevitably lead to a first look at the nature of early Tudor politics, and in particular at what has become something of an obsession with Tudor historians, the workings of ‘faction’. But before any of this is done, some simple biographical information is required.2
The precise date of Wolsey’s birth is not known, but it was probably in late 1472 or early the following year. His father, Robert, appears to have been a successful innkeeper and butcher in the Ipswich area.3 Thomas was sent to Magdalen College, Oxford, having probably first attended the college’s school;4 at any rate it would have been quite normal for a person of his social and financial standing to have done so.5 Though many details are missing, he clearly had a successful, if not outstanding, academic career. He would have read first of all for a Bachelor of Arts degr
ee, in his day normally taking four years to complete, followed by three years reading for a Master of Arts. There would then usually have been two years as ‘regent in practice’, essentially a junior teaching post, and only after this would he have started on his theology degree course. To obtain a B.Th. required at the very least a further seven years’ study, but by the time Wolsey left the university in 1501 he had not taken his degree – not altogether surprising when one starts to do the arithmetic. Even if, as Cavendish had it from Wolsey himself,6 he became a B.A. when only fifteen, probably in 1488 – and this would have been unusually young7 – he could not have become a B.Th. until at the earliest 1498, and more reasonably 1500. If such distractions as his year as master of Magdalen School and his two years as bursar are then added, there was hardly time for him to have obtained the degree by 15018 – as anyone studying for a further degree today would surely confirm! In fact, nothing would be known about his academic attainments if in 1510 he had not obtained a grace to proceed to degrees of B.Th. and D.Th.,9 something that would not have been granted if he had not gone a long way to meet the statutory requirements as to length of study and academic attainment.10 There is documentary evidence for his having been bursar of Magdalen College and master of Magdalen School. There is nothing, however, in the records to support the college tradition that he was dismissed from the former office for financial impropriety in connection with the building of the college’s most beautiful tower.11 He certainly was not dismissed from his fellowship, which one might have thought would have been an inevitable consequence. In 1500-1, just prior to his resignation from the college, he held the mastership of the school and the quite senior post of dean of divinity, which does not suggest that he was in any way in disgrace. And there is nothing surprising about his resignation. Through the patronage of the marquess of Dorset, whose sons he had taught at Magdalen School, in October 1500 he became rector of Limington in Somerset. With the benefice came an income of £21, and thus some measure of financial security; and, more to the point, it was a statutory requirement that on obtaining a benefice worth more than £8 a year, a fellow should resign.12