Anne had ten days in Calais with Henry, living like a queen, escorted by him everywhere and lodging with him at the Exchequer, the only interruption being the surprise arrival of a delegation of welcoming notables from Francis I on the 15th.
55
Then, on the 21st, the king left to meet ‘his beloved brother’ and to spend four days at the French court at Boulogne for what has been described as a ‘stag party’ - ‘the great cheer that was there, no man can express it.’ Then it was England’s turn, and Henry arrived back at Calais with Francis on Friday, 25 October.
We hear nothing of Anne Boleyn during Francis’s magnificent reception in Calais - all told, 3000 guns were fired in his honour - and his lodgings at Staple Hall on Calais’s main square were some distance from the Exchequer. One of his first actions on arrival was to send the provost of Paris to her with the present of a diamond worth
£
3500, but still she made no appearance. Anne had a sense of theatre, and was reserving her entry as the climax of the great banquet Henry was to give on the Sunday night. The room for this was magnificently prepared, with hangings of cloth of tissue and cloth of silver, ornamented with gold wreaths encrusted with precious stones and pearls, lit by twenty candelabra of silver and silver-gift carrying 100 wax candles.
It was after the dinner and its 170 different dishes prepared alternately in French style and English style that Anne made her entry, leading a masque of six ladies ‘gorgeously apparelled’.
56
There was her sister Mary Carey, her aunt Dorothy, countess of Derby (one of her supporters at Windsor), another aunt, Elizabeth Lady Fitzwalter, her sister-in-law, Lady Rochford, her client (or dependant) Lady Lisle and lastly Lady Wallop, wife of the ambassador to France and at least a former client.
57
They wore costumes ‘of strange fashion’ - loose, gold-laced overdresses of cloth of gold, with sashes of crimson satin ornamented with a wavy pattern in cloth of silver. All were masked, and they were escorted by four maids of honour in crimson satin and tabards of cypress lawn. Each chose a Frenchman to dance with: the countess of Derby led out Marguerite d’Angoulême’s husband, the king of Navarre, and the other ladies their partners, but Francis himself was, of course, claimed by Anne. After a couple of dances, Henry could no longer restrain his childlike excitement and removed the masks ‘so that there the ladies’ beauties were showed’. Dancing then went on for another hour, but Francis and Anne spent much of this in private conversation before Henry escorted his guests back to Staple Hall.
The last full day of the Calais visit, 28 October, soon passed with a chapter of the Order of the Garter and a wrestling match, which saw Henry’s specially imported Cornish wrestlers restore the national honour lost at the Field of Cloth of Gold, though very wisely the king did not again take on Francis in person as he had in 1520 (when he lost).
58
Thus amity persisted to the final day, Tuesday, 29 October, when Henry accompanied the French king to the border-crossing into France. Farewells over, there was a rush to get back to England, but the brilliant weather which had so far graced proceedings now broke in a furious north-westerly gale which, coupled with a spring tide, drove the lucky ones back to Calais and the unlucky on to the inundated shores of Flanders.
59
Someone, however, must have got over to set in motion the propaganda that Henry saw as one major purpose of the meeting with Francis. Wynkyn de Worde had
The manner of the triumph at Calais and Boulogne
on the streets of London within the week.
60
He may, indeed, have been fed a deliberate piece of disinformation. He lists Anne Boleyn first among the ladies dancing on Sunday night, followed by ‘my lady Mary’, that is, her sister. Next come the countess of Derby and Lady Fitzwalter, but in no way could Mary Carey have actually taken precedence over either of them. Moreover, ‘my lady Mary’ would normally indicate Princess Mary. The suspicion, therefore, must be that the news sent to England was ‘spun’ to suggest that Henry’s daughter had been present and had countenanced the priority given to Anne Boleyn.
61
Henry and Anne had intended to stay at Calais until the 8th, so they missed the dangers and the shipwrecks, but the storm, which only began to slacken on Monday, 4 November, must have kept them confined to the Exchequer. Not that that was a hardship. It was a large house with extensions including a tennis court, with a gallery to walk in, a king’s garden and a queen’s garden and, if Anne occupied the accommodation designated for her on a planned later visit, she had a suite of seven main rooms (including a chamber overlooking the garden), and her bedroom backed onto Henry’s own, with interconnecting doors.
62
All the while the wind remained foul for the crossing, and when the intended departure day arrived it rose to a new violence which cleared pedestrians from the Calais streets. The return of fine weather on Sunday, 10 November, encouraged Henry to have his bed and baggage sent aboard, but a Channel fog put an end to any immediate departure. They got away eventually at midnight on Tuesday, 12 November, and reached Dover early on Thursday morning after a painfully slow crossing of twenty-nine hours. The counsellors at Westminster breathed a sigh of profound relief at the king’s safe return, and rapidly organized a
Te Deum
at St Paul’s Cathedral. Henry, however, took his time; he had only reached Eltham by the 24th.
63
And the explanation we can guess. Somewhere, sometime, perhaps as the wind tore through the Calais streets or in a manor-house in Kent, Anne at last slept with Henry.
64
11
WEDDING NERVES
W
ITH Anne Boleyn and Henry VIII living together, albeit discreetly, it might be expected that the time of doubt and irresolution would be over. To many historians, the crucial decision to cohabit was made possible by September’s Anglo-French treaty and whatever was finally agreed at Calais. Armed with French guarantees, Henry must at last have felt secure enough to consummate his relationship with Anne - and she, for her part, must have been convinced at last that it was safe for her to respond. Alternatively, what freed Henry and Anne was the recall of Thomas Cranmer from Germany on or before 1 October. The next metropolitan could be relied on to give Henry justice.
If we see the decision to cohabit as a response to such external events, the next few months can be presented as a natural sequence, leading to Anne’s public recognition. In the new year she and Henry went through a wedding ceremony, probably on 25 January.
1
About this time Anne may have begun to suspect that she might be pregnant. For some weeks the marriage was kept secret, even from Francis. Montmorency, the
grand maître
of the French royal household, was still addressing Anne in March as
Madame la marquise,
unaware that her brother was then on the way to tell his master that she was now both wife and expectant mother.
2
Chapuys was kept entirely in the dark. He did report in February that Henry had been formally betrothed, but on 31 March he could still only pass on strong rumours that the marriage would take place after Easter. Carlo Capello from Venice was the earliest ambassador to report (on 12 April) that Henry had already been married for several months.
3
The news was hardly much quicker to circulate in England, and the slowness of observers to tumble to what was going on again shows how deep-rooted was the conviction that Henry simply could not remarry without the pope’s consent. However, for eyes that avoided this conditioning, the signs had been clear.
4
During December Henry transferred to Anne over three hundredweight of gilt and partly gilt plate, and in the second week of the month he had gone with Anne to view the new building in the Tower and, most exceptionally, shown her the royal treasure room. When the French ambassador arrived with an important message, Anne apparently persuaded Henry to open the room again and show the ambassador as well, a gesture Henry had specifically avoided some days previously. Once Henry began to reveal financial secrets a relationship had gone deep indeed.
On 24 January the news that a Boleyn protégé would be the next archbishop of Canterbury became common knowledge. Cranmer had got back to England earlier in the month, having been collected by a special messenger sent by Henry to hasten his return.
5
Thomas Audley was promoted to the rank of chancellor on 26 January, and a few days later Chapuys reported what seems to have been a meeting to discuss Cromwell’s penultimate draft of the Act of Appeals, which would put on the statute book a statement of the royal supremacy and break the judicial links with Rome.
6
Meanwhile Henry and Anne were beginning to talk even more freely about marriage, and applicants for places in her household were told that they would not have long to wait.
7
Her father, the earl of Wiltshire, told the earl of Rutland on 7 February that the king was determined to marry Anne at once, and sounded him out on his reaction to the forthcoming Appeals bill. When Rutland (even though a Boleyn supporter) said that parliament had no competence in spiritual matters, Boleyn flew into a rage and browbeat him into agreeing to vote for the king; other peers were probably handled similarly.
8
Although the fact of the wedding remained a secret, Anne’s pregnancy became generally known within the court, if only from proud hints she dropped herself.
9
Chapuys reported that on 15 February she had said quite openly to the duke of Norfolk that if she was not pregnant by Easter she would undertake a pilgrimage to pray to the Virgin Mary. A week later she said to one of her favourites, probably Wyatt, and again in the hearing of many courtiers, that she had developed a craving for apples, which the king said was a sign that she was pregnant but which she had denied - clearly in jest, for she went back into her room laughing loudly. On St Mathias’ Day, 24 February, Anne held a sumptuous banquet for the king in her own rooms, which were hung for the occasion with the best tapestries, and the tables were set with a mass of gold plate. Henry was in fine form. He spent the whole meal bantering and flirting with Anne and her ladies and ignoring the duke of Suffolk, the chancellor and his other guests, although he was heard to ask the dowager duchess of Norfolk, Anne’s step-grandmother, whether she did not think that ‘madame la marquise’ had made a good marriage and had a great dowry, since all the furnishings and all the plate belonged to her.
10
By the second week of March Henry was confident enough to put up preachers at court who proclaimed the immorality of his marriage with Katherine and (by implication) ‘the virtues and secret merits’ of Anne, while on the 14th Cromwell introduced the Appeals bill in the Commons. With the arrival of the necessary papal bulls, Cranmer too could at last be brought into play, and on the 26th convocation was asked to pronounce on the validity of a dispensation to marry a brother’s widow.
11
The following Sunday, 30 March, the new archbishop was consecrated under the traditional forms, a few days before the Appeals bill cleared both Houses of Parliament and convocation gave its decision in Henry’s favour. There was now nothing to stop Anne’s public recognition.
12
By the end of March her household had at last been formed.
13
On the Wednesday of Holy Week, Katherine was told that she had to reduce her title and lifestyle to that of a dowager princess of Wales; Bishop Fisher, the lone voice speaking up for her, had already been silenced by detention.
14
And the following Saturday, the eve of Easter Day 1533, Anne went to mass as queen, at last.
15
Glittering with jewellery, wearing a pleated gown of cloth of gold, her train borne by her cousin, the future duchess of Richmond, and with sixty maids of honour in attendance, Queen Anne was prayed for by name and given full regal honours.
16
Told in this way, the months before Easter 1533 marched with an ever-increasing tempo towards the inevitable climax of the long years of courtship. The submission of the clergy had been the decisive breakthrough; mass on Easter eve, the victory parade. Yet there are problems. Despite the coherence and pace of the story, despite its romantic conviction, disturbing pieces of evidence do not fit in. They, suggest, rather, that the courtship of Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn remained difficult to the end. In the first place, why had Henry not married earlier, as soon as death had silenced Warham’s intransigent refusal to defy the pope. Surely, with no archbishop to answer to, whoever conducted the January marriage would have been equally willing to officiate? Another oddity is the indecision behind the postponement of parliament until the new year, despite the guarantee of French protection against Charles V, and even though the drafting of legislation on the relation between England and the papacy may have been well advanced.
17
There are signs, too, that the king’s advisers were still not happy with the radical option, despite the submission. Norfolk claimed that he, and particularly Anne’s father, had blocked a wedding in May 1532; he even told Chapuys that Wiltshire had
contrefit le frenetique
(‘pretended insanity’) on that occasion and that both had earned black looks from Anne as a result.
18
Be that as it may (and Chapuys had detected no hint of this performance at the time), the duke may well have been more than a little involved on the conservative side over the submission. He certainly made a curious trip to Dover in March 1532, which allowed him to meet Stephen Gardiner on his return from France and to escort him back to London.
19
In June too he quarrelled with the French ambassador, and Anne had to move in to save the Calais meeting.
20
As late as the end of May 1533, Chapuys was still reporting tension between Anne and Norfolk and Wiltshire, and he passed on the story that when the latter saw his pregnant daughter enlarging her gowns and had remarked that she should not try to hide the baby but thank God for the condition she was in, he had been publicly crushed by Anne’s reply that she was in a better state than he had wished her to be.
21