He is like a man who has wandered inadvertently into a play, who has found it to be a comedy, and decided to stay and see it through.
Nevertheless, the two men – the radical lateral thinker and conservative ambassador – had much in common. They were both lawyers who had lived in Italy, and they shared similar tastes and ideals, and quite fortuitously, they were neighbours, living at St Katherine’s, now known as St Katherine’s Docks, near the Tower of London; the two households often came together when Chapuys and Cromwell dined – something Chapuys does very well in The Mirror and The Light. Surprisingly, they hunted together, lent each other books, and walked together in various palace gardens discussing tapestries, art, scholarship, Italy and wider European politics. Mantel suggests that Chapuys never learned English, and could only rely on those conversations in French, which he could understand, but here she does not give him enough credit.
After four years in England Chapuys claimed he still could not entirely follow a rapid conversation in English. However, he was a shrewd diplomat and rather suspiciously made much fuss about having trouble with understanding English at court. In fact, Chapuys was linguistically gifted – he spoke German, Spanish, Italian, Flemish, Latin and a little Greek – and French was his native tongue. Chapuys is often described as rather gossipy, but his invaluable letters and reports give life to this period. Mantel clearly thought so too, for she plucks scenes for her books from Chapuys’ own dispatches.
In an audience with a volatile Henry VIII, one of many in which Henry’s treatment of Katherine of Aragon and obsession with Anne Boleyn is discussed, the king asks Chapuys what he thinks his motives are for divorcing Katherine and the break with Rome. Chapuys responds:
Kill a cardinal? Divide your country? Split the church? ‘Seems extravagant,’ Chapuys murmurs.
Henry’s reaction is dramatic: he berates Chapuys, bursting into angry tears. Mantel observes:
He is a game little terrier, the Emperor’s man; but even he knows that when you’ve made a king cry it’s time to back off.
In 1533, a fire devastated the ambassador’s rather fine lodgings by the Tower. The blaze was so fierce that neither Chapuys nor his household had any time to save valuables. Chapuys lost everything: his gold plate, clothes, furniture from Italy, which he had prized, and sentimental personal effects. But new lodgings were quickly found, and Cromwell likely played a part in finding the new house, which was a stone’s throw from one of his own luxurious and favourite houses.
Their masters may have had a strained relationship – Katherine of Aragon and Anne Boleyn were the main points of contention – but the ambassador and Cromwell remained firm friends. Mantel illustrates this beautifully:
Officially, he and the ambassador are barely on speaking terms. Unofficially, Chapuys sends him a vat of good olive oil. He retaliates with capons. The ambassador himself arrives, followed by a retainer carrying a parmesan cheese.
When they are in private, they dispense with their ‘masks of dissimulation’ as Chapuys called it. Through Chapuys’ dispatches, sometimes paraphrased by Mantel, we are offered a glimpse of Cromwell’s sly charm. When discussing the Emperor’s possible response to Henry’s preparation for war towards the end of Wolf Hall, Cromwell says:
‘... Oh, I know his coffers are bottomless. The Emperor could ruin us all if he liked.’ He smiles. ‘But what good would that do the Emperor?’
As the years progressed, the real Chapuys evolved at court as his mission shifted from defending Katherine to protecting her daughter Mary, which brought him even more in line with Cromwell.
THE PRIVY COUNCIL AT WESTMINSTER
Geoffrey Elton described the Privy Council as ‘the instrument of policy making, the arena of political conflict, and the ultimate means for dispensing the king’s justice.’ Under Cromwell, the once-large Privy Council was significantly reformed and restructured, with many nobles losing their position. Cromwell dominated the council, but attempted to build a power base of allies and those he considered friends to balance the remaining detractors – it was a rare but grave miscalculation.
T
HOMAS
A
UDLEY
Described in Wolf Hall as a man whose ‘convictions are flexible’, Thomas Audley (sometimes spelled Audeley) was one of the most adaptable men of the period. Someone who seemed to take nothing personally, and expected others to feel the same, he changed allegiances without a qualm.
Born in Essex in 1488, he was the son-in-law of Cromwell’s first employer, Thomas Grey. It is believed that Audley first attended Cambridge to study law, before entering Middle Temple, London. He also pursued a career in Parliament, joining as an MP for Essex and becoming a Justice of the Peace while climbing the ladder at court, being appointed Groom of the Chamber in 1527, answering to the Lord Chamberlain. Audley had been a personal and political supporter of Cardinal Wolsey since entering his service in 1527, where he met Cromwell, who called Audley ‘oon of my grettest frendes’. Audley was elected Speaker of the House of Commons, and presided over the Reformation Parliament, which sat from 1529 until 1536. He was a firm advocate of abolishing papal jurisdiction and was instrumental in the dissolution of the monasteries, from which he benefited enormously. Audley supported Henry’s annulment and was part of the Boleyns’ sphere. When Thomas More resigned his position, it was Cromwell who recommended Audley be appointed as Keeper of the Great Seal.
In 1533, Audley reached the pinnacle of his career, being appointed Lord Chancellor, and he and Cromwell worked together for years as a political dream team. But, when Cromwell lost favour, it was Audley who was instrumental in creating the act of attainder against his former friend. Audley proved that his loyalty to the king trumped all else.
S
TEPHEN
G
ARDINER
Stephen Gardiner was a complex figure, historically as inscrutable as he is in the series. A man of contradictions – he was
