Weir A. Henry VIII: The King and His Court

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all and begging the Archbishop to solicit the King’s forgiveness. “The Queen would never let me rest

till I had granted her to be married,” he explained, “and so, to be plain with you, I have married her

heartily, and have lain with her insomuch I fear me lest she be with child.”

Henry was furious.

When his precipitate marriage became common knowledge at the English court, there were many who

were outraged at Suffolk’s presumption. The Privy Council, led by the Howards, urged the King to

have him executed or imprisoned

since he had committed treason by marrying a princess of the blood

without royal consent. Thanks to Wolsey’s intervention, and Henry’s genuine affection for both Mary

and Suffolk, it was agreed that they should pay him a large fine of £24,000 (£7,200,000) in instalments

by way of compensation. Mary also agreed to surrender to Henry all the plate and jewels she had been

given before and during her marriage, and Suffolk relinquished to his master the wardship of Elizabeth

Grey, Viscountess Lisle.

Greatly mollified, the King graciously consented to receive the erring pair

back into favour, but there were many who felt that Suffolk had got off too lightly.

In March, Francis I demanded of Mary the return of the Mirror of Naples, which was the hereditary

property of the queens of France, but she confessed that she had sent it to her brother as a peace

offering. When Henry refused to give it back, a diplomatic row ensued. Francis tried offering him

30,000 crowns for it, but to no avail. After that, there is no further mention of the Mirror of Naples in

the records. There has been speculation that Henry had it recut or renamed, but descriptions of his attire

in Venetian sources suggest that he wore it quite openly.

In April 1515, there arrived in England the new Venetian ambassador Sebastian Giustinian and his

suite, whose members have left some of the most famous descriptions of the young Henry VIII and his

court. The King wanted to impress the Senate, so on St. George’s Day he sent dignitaries to escort the

envoy and his train in a barge fashioned like the Venetian bucentaur to Richmond, where the court was

assembled. Giustinian and his colleague Piero Pasqualigo both left accounts of the occasion: “Though

it was before mass, they made us breakfast, for fear we should faint; after which, we were conducted to

the presence through sundry chambers all hung with most beautiful tapestry, passing down the ranks of

the bodyguard.

“We were ushered into a stately hall. At one extremity was His Majesty, standing under a canopy of

gold embroidered at Florence, the most costly thing I ever witnessed. He was leaning against his gilt

throne, on which was a large gold brocade cushion, where lay the long gold sword of state.” The King

was resplendent in his Garter robes: “He wore a cap of crimson velvet in the French fashion; his

doublet was in the Swiss fashion, striped alternately with white and crimson satin, and his hose were

scarlet, and all slashed from the knee upwards. Very close around his neck he had a fine collar, from

which there hung a round cut diamond, the size of the largest walnut I ever saw, and a very large round

pearl [the Mirror of Naples?]. His mantle was of purple velvet lined with white satin, with a train more

than four yards in length. Over this mantle was a very handsome gold collar with a pendant St. George

entirely of diamonds. On his left shoulder was the Garter, and on his right shoulder was a hood with a

border entirely of crimson velvet. Beneath the mantle he had a pouch of cloth of gold which covered a

dagger, and his fingers were one mass of jewelled rings.”

Eight Knights of the Garter stood on the King’s right, and to his left were a number of prelates. Also

present were six officers of the household, bearing gold rods of office, ten heralds wearing tabards of

cloth of gold “wrought with the arms of England,” and “a crowd of nobility, all arrayed in cloth of gold

and silk.”

After kissing the King’s hand, Giustinian “delivered a Latin oration in praise of His Majesty, whom we

extolled with all the eloquence we could command. This ended, we attended mass, which was chanted

by the Bishop of Durham, with a superb and noble descant choir. Afterwards we accompanied the King

to table, where he chose us to see the service of the courses, contained in 16 dishes of massive gold. As

soon as he had commenced eating, he sent us with the Archbishop of York and the Bishop of Durham

into his [presence] chamber, where a very sumptuous and plentiful dinner had been prepared for us, and

by the King’s order a repast was served for all our countrymen and attendants. Having dined, we

remained a good while with His Majesty, very familiarly.”

Giustinian was deeply impressed by the

splendour of the court, which “glittered with jewels, gold and silver, the pomp being unprecedented,”

and also by the condescension and friendliness of the King, who on one occasion “embraced us without

ceremony, and conversed for a long while familiarly on various topics in good Latin and French.”

The foregoing describes a typical reception for a foreign ambassador,

who would attend court only

upon a summons from the King. European diplomacy as we know it was then in its infancy. For

centuries, continental rulers had sent each other envoys on specific missions, but the concept of the

resident ambassador was a new one, instituted by some of the Italian states in the fifteenth century. The

first ambassador to be accredited to the court of England, in 1483, was from Venice.

Ferdinand and

Isabella sent their first resident ambassador in 1486, but there was no permanent French ambassador

until 1528. From 1505, England maintained ambassadors in Spain and Rome.

Most ambassadors were of gentle birth, well educated and not easily intimidated. They were not

usually assigned lodgings at court unless the King wished it,

but stayed in accommodation nearby,

which was provided for them at his expense. Giustinian and his fellows were lodged in the Greyhound

Inn and three other houses in Greenwich.

An ambassador was expected to maintain an appearance that

reflected his master’s status, but most monarchs kept their envoys chronically short of funds, and they

often had to make up the shortfall from their own pockets. The King always presented home-going

ambassadors with a set of plate for a buffet.

An ambassador bore heavy responsibilities: he had to look to his master’s interests; keep him supplied

with useful, often sensitive information in minute detail, usually in cipher; and sometimes deal with

difficult situations calling for the utmost tact. Some ambassadors became intimately involved in the

politics of their host country, and occasionally exceeded their briefs. Nearly all employed spies and

informers to seek out state secrets or the skeletons in the closets of the mighty. Many became involved

in court intrigues, and a few found themselves in very tricky situations, since diplomatic immunity was

not always respected. Wolsey was the worst offender: he curtly ordered Giustinian to show him his

dispatches before sending them to Venice, and later grabbed hold of a papal nuncio, Francesco

Chieregato, and threatened to have him racked. In 1524, he intercepted the correspondence of the

imperial envoy, Louis de Flandre, Sieur de Praet, placed him under house arrest because he did not like

what he read, then had him recalled.

There are frequent references to Henry VIII entertaining ambassadors at dinner in the presence

chamber.

Henry made a habit of taking foreign ambassadors into his confidence. His easy charm and

unexpected familiarity ensured that some of them swallowed whole the intelligence he fed them. He

once kept a Venetian envoy so long in conversation that the man had to excuse himself because he had

developed a pain in his side while standing.

In 1509, the elderly Badoer was ill for over a month

because he could not adjust to the English climate; the King, not knowing this, summoned him, then

“wept for very pity at my having come, it seeming to him that I had been taken out of my grave.”

he grew older, Henry became less familiar and more inclined to brag and bluster.

Pasqualigo described Henry VIII as “the handsomest potentate I have ever set eyes upon; above the

usual height, with an extremely fine calf to his leg, his complexion very fair and bright, with auburn

hair combed straight and short in the French fashion, and a round face so very beautiful that it would

become a pretty woman, his throat being rather long and thick. He will enter his 25th year the month

after next.”

On May Day, 1515, there took place one of the most celebrated pageants of the reign. Pasqualigo,

Giustinian, and the latter’s secretary, Niccolo Sagudino, all left accounts of it, describing how, early in

the morning, the King sent two noblemen to conduct the ambassadors to Greenwich, where they and

the “chief lords of the kingdom” mounted on horseback and escorted the Queen, who was richly attired

in the Spanish style, two miles into the country to meet the King. “With Her Majesty were 25 damsels

mounted on white palfreys” with embroidered gold housings; the girls “all had dresses slashed with

gold lame in very costly trim”; their “sumptuous appearance” made their mistress appear “rather ugly

than otherwise.” She was now approaching thirty, and middle-aged by Tudor standards.

The cavalcade rode into a wood, where they found the King mounted on Governatore; he was dressed

“entirely in green velvet, cap, doublet, hose, shoes and everything,” and surrounded by two hundred

archers of his guard “in a livery of green with bows in their hands”; one of them was got up as Robin

Hood, and by his side stood a Mr. Villiers dressed as Maid Marion in a red kirtle. A hundred noblemen

on horseback were in attendance. “Directly we came in sight the King commenced making his horse

curvet, and performed such feats that I fancied myself looking at Mars.”

After an exciting archery contest, Robin Hood asked the Queen if she and her damsels would like “to

enter the good greenwood and see how outlaws lived.” The King inquired if Katherine would dare

“venture into a thicket with so many outlaws.” Katherine answered that “where he went, she was

content to go.” Henry took her hand and led her, to the sound of trumpets, through the wood to some

carefully constructed bowers or labyrinths, decorated with flowers, herbs, and boughs and filled with

singing birds “which carolled most sweetly.” Within these bowers, tables had been set for “what they

call here a proper good breakfast.”

“Sir, outlaws’ breakfast is venison,” Robin Hood informed the King, “and you must be content with

such fare as we use.” Henry was happy to comply, and he and Katherine were served game and wine by

the archers. “In one of the bowers were triumphal cars on which were singers or musicians, who played

on an organ, lute and flutes for a good while during the banquet.”

After a while, the King came over to Pasqualigo and spoke to him in French in the most friendly

fashion.

“Talk with me awhile,” he began. “The King of France, is he as tall as I am?”

Pasqualigo replied that “there was but little difference.”

“Is he as stout?”

No, he was not.

“What sort of legs has he?”

“Spare, Your Majesty.” At this, Henry beamed and, pulling aside the skirt of his doublet, slapped a hand

on his thigh, saying, “Look here! I have also a good calf to my leg.”

Later that morning, the company proceeded homewards accompanied by “tall pasteboard giants” of

Gog and Magog on a pageant car, and singing girls dressed as Lady May and Dame Flora in another

car. The cars were “surrounded by His Majesty’s guard” and “musicians sounding the whole way on

trumpets, drums and other instruments, so that it was an extremely fine triumph and very pompous, and

the King in person brought up the rear, in as great state as possible, followed by the Queen, with such a

crowd on foot as to exceed, I think, 25,000 persons. On arriving at Greenwich, His Majesty went to

mass,” having covered up his doublet with “a handsome gown of green velvet” and “a collar of cut

diamonds of immense value.” Afterwards, “the ambassadors had a private audience.”

That afternoon, the King, Suffolk, Dorset, and Essex were the stars of a tournament. Sagudino,

watching, declared, “The show was most beautiful. I never expected to find such pomp, and on this

occasion His Majesty exerted himself to the utmost for the sake of Pasqualigo, who is returning to

France today, that he may be able to tell King Francis what he has seen in England, especially with

regard to His Majesty’s own prowess.”

During the days of jousting that followed, Henry singled out young gentlemen such as Nicholas Carew

and his brother-in-law Francis Bryan to support him in the lists, lending them horses and armour, “to

encourage all youth to seek deeds of arms.”

Nicholas Carew was an outstanding jouster who practised

constantly and was renowned for his fearless daring. He became so famous that the King provided him

with his own tilt at Greenwich, and a hut in which to arm himself and store his equipment. Carew was

an expert at the manage; once, after a tournament, he entered the lists with his horse blindfolded, so

that the animal should not rear in fright when three men carried into the tiltyard a tree trunk twelve feet

long and balanced it on Carew’s lance rest. Carew then rode the length of the tiltyard, “most stoutly”

couching the tree like a lance, “to the extreme adulation and astonishment of everybody.”

Two

decades later, he was painted by Hans Holbein in full jousting armour, holding a lance.

Henry

knighted him before 1517.

Francis Bryan was a clever and versatile young man who was to gain a reputation as a rake and a hell-

raiser. He became one of the King’s closest companions, a fellow jouster, gambler, tennis player, and, it

was rumoured, accomplice in extramarital affairs. He had come “to the court very young,”

the son of

Sir Thomas Bryan by Margaret Bourchier, a daughter of the scholarly Lord Berners. No portrait

survives, so we know nothing of his appearance. Bryan was the typical Renaissance courtier, a poet

and man of letters who was also to distinguish himself as a soldier, sailor, and diplomat. His irresistible

charm disguised an incorrigible intriguer who was two-faced, manipulative, and promiscuous; once, on

a trip to Calais, he demanded “a soft bed then a hard harlot.”

He was full of pent-up energy, highly

articulate, and viciously witty. Observers were astonished at the familiarity he used towards the King,

both in speaking his mind and telling jokes.

Bryan was no creature of principle: by altering his

loyalties and opinions to conform to the King’s changes of policy, he managed to remain in favour

throughout the reign.

In 1515, Bryan’s other brother-in-law, Sir Henry Guildford, was appointed Master of the Horse in place

of Suffolk. Another rising young man was the King’s cousin, Henry Courtenay, Earl of Devon, who

would become closer to him when Suffolk began to have responsibilities away from court.

The fate of Fray Diego Fernandez, the Queen’s confessor, was, however, an example of what could

happen to those who fell out of favour. When several members of Katherine’s household went to the

King to complain that the friar was involved in amorous intrigues with women at court, Henry

summoned Fernandez and confronted him with the accusations. The friar angrily denied it, and

pointedly added, “If I am badly used, the Queen is still more badly used.” This may have been a

reference to Elizabeth Blount, but even if it was not it was still impertinent; the King, who was

incensed, had Fernandez brought before an ecclesiastical tribunal, which found him guilty of

fornication. Henry then had him summarily deported to Spain, with the friar indignantly protesting that

“never, within your kingdom, have I had to do with women. I have been condemned unheard by

disreputable rogues.”

He was replaced by the Spaniard Jorge de Atheca, another Observant friar who,

through the Queen’s good offices, had been made Bishop of Llandaff. Atheca was a humanist and a

member of Thomas More’s circle.

In May, Mary Tudor and Suffolk returned to England, and were warmly received by the King, at whose

insistence they were married a second time on 13 May in the church of the Observant Friars at

Greenwich, before the whole court.

But the celebrations were low-key “because the kingdom did not

approve of the marriage.”

There were those among the guests who had pressed for Suffolk’s

execution. Public feeling was evident in one of several copies that were made of a wedding portrait of

Mary and Suffolk;

it showed a court jester whispering to the Duke:

Cloth of gold do not despise

Though thou be matched with cloth of frieze;

Cloth of frieze be not too bold

Though thou be matched with cloth of gold.

Wolsey, by saving Suffolk’s life through his intervention, had reduced his rival to the status of a client

seeking patronage, and the Duke had to learn to cooperate and work more amicably with him. Yet now

that he was the King’s brother-in-law, “much honour and respect” were paid him, and, after Wolsey, he

had “the second seat in His Majesty’s Privy Council, which he rarely enters, save to discuss matters of

importance.”

He was often busy elsewhere, looking after the royal interests in East Anglia, which of

course suited Wolsey very well.

The King, out of affection for his sister and his friend, graciously reduced their fine, but paying the

balance due still strained their finances, although not as badly as many modern writers claim. From

1515 on, Suffolk was able to spend “vast sums” on building and improving houses.

He raised a fine

brick London residence, Suffolk Place, on his ancestral estate by the Thames in what is now Southwark

High Street, and made improvements in the antique style to his country seat, Westhorpe Hall in Suffolk,

where Mary spent most of her time, attended by fifty servants.

He also maintained five other

properties in East Anglia, Berkshire, and Oxfordshire. Of the two, Suffolk was far more frequently at

court, although Mary did visit from time to time; as Queen Dowager of France, she took precedence

over all other ladies save Queen Katherine.

“The Best Dressed Sovereign in the World”

In her wedding portrait, Mary Tudor wears a nimbus-shaped French hood with her square-necked

gown. Her sister Margaret Tudor appears in a similar hood in a portrait painted around the same time.

By 1515, French fashions were displacing Flemish and Italian influences at the English court; they

would remain popular until the mid-1540s, when Spanish styles became the preferred mode. During the

same period, court dress also reflected German and Swiss trends. In the sixteenth century, fashions

changed far more slowly than today.

England was then entering a minor ice age that would last until the late seventeenth century. “It is

always windy, and however warm the weather, the natives invariably wear furs. The summers are never

very hot, neither is it ever very cold,” wrote a Venetian.

To cope with the climate, people wore several

layers of clothing: a shirt or chemise, a doublet or kirtle, and an overgown, the top two layers often in

heavy materials, and always with sleeves to the wrist. The furs that lined the courtiers’ gowns were

sable or lynx; the seriously wealthy used egret’s down.

In Tudor times it was the court and nobility that set the trends. Clothes played an important role in

proclaiming the rank and wealth of the wearer, for they were extremely expensive. The richer the fabric

and ornamentation, the higher the status. In an age that placed great stress on outward show, such

things counted, and throughout the late mediaeval and Tudor periods, successive governments passed

sumptuary laws restricting the wearing of certain materials and colours to persons above a certain

degree. Ermine, sable, and miniver could only be worn by the nobility; no one under the rank of

gentleman was allowed to wear any gold or silver ornament on his clothing; silk shirts were restricted

to the knightly classes and above, and only earls and their superiors were permitted to sport

embroideries; no commoner was to wear excessively broad-toed shoes; only dukes and marquesses

might wear cloth of gold, while the colour purple was to be worn only by royalty. There were also all

sorts of regulations governing the wearing of jewellery. These laws were aimed at the prosperous

merchant and middle classes, who could often afford to wear the clothes reserved for their betters and

frequently did so, defying the law and risking confiscation.

Dress could also be symbolic: embroidered emblems, flowers, badges, jewellery, and colours all carried

their own subtle messages conveying moods, sexual innuendos, and political loyalties. Detailing was

crucial to the success of an outfit, and bright colours were greatly favoured.

There was a strict line of demarcation between male and female dress. Women wore long skirts, men

hose and doublets. Both sexes wore elaborate headgear, indoors and out, and broad-toed “duckbill”

shoes, sometimes with straps, while high, square-toed boots were worn for riding or hunting. Henry

VIII’s shoes were of soft leather or velvet, sometimes decorated with cuts or embroidered with pearls in

floral designs.

Each pair cost about 18d (£22.50).

During Henry VIII’s reign, men began to wear nightshirts and women nightshifts, or smocks, in bed,

rather than sleep naked. Henry always wore a nightshirt, unless he was making love to his wife.

Men

and women also wore nightbonnets, or “biggins,” embroidered coifs of white linen, silk, or, in the

King’s case, velvet.

Older men, lawyers, and academics tended to wear these under their bonnets in the

daytime. A “nightgown” was the Tudor term for a dressing gown or housecoat.

Male fashions were more flamboyant then. Shirts were loose-fitting with a drawstring at the neck; early

in the reign necklines were low, but later on they became high with a small frill that would later

develop into the Elizabethan ruff. Hose were divided into upper and nether stocks, or breeches and

stockings. Henry’s hose were usually of silk, leather, velvet, or satin, and were dyed in various colours

such as green, white, or crimson to match his shoes.

The doublet was a kind of wide-shouldered waistcoat or jacket with a skirt, or “bases,” attached at the

waist and separate sleeves tied with laces, or “points,” to eyelet holes on the shoulder. The skirt was

parted in front to reveal a prominent decorated flap called a codpiece, an overt symbol of virility, which

was tied with points. Over the doublet was worn the open-revered gown, which became shorter and

wider as the reign progressed and the King’s bulk increased. A cloak or mantle was worn above this in

colder weather. Men’s bonnets were flat caps with plumes and brims ornamented by jewels or

emblems; the King’s hats cost 15s (£225) each, and were embellished by his plume maker, Gerard van

Arcle. Hair was worn in a long page-boy style, and most men went clean-shaven.

“Slashing” was a fashion peculiar to the age. It is said to have originated after the Battle of Nancy in

1477, when the victorious Swiss tore up rich materials plundered from the vanquished Burgundians and

used them to patch their torn clothes. Their makeshift attire was copied by German mercenaries, and

became fashionable in Germany and then France and England. Slashing involved drawing puffs of

material from an undergarment through slits in an overgarment, and it was used most commonly on

doublets, sleeves, and breeches.

Contemporary records provide tantalising glimpses of Henry VIII’s clothes. The splendour of his

wardrobe reflected his regal status and left commentators striving for superlatives. “He is the best

dressed sovereign in the world: his robes are the richest and most superb that can be imagined, and he

puts on new clothes every holy day,” gushed a Venetian, while Badoer was stunned at the vision of the

young King dressed in a long robe of white damask glittering with diamonds and rubies.

Henry’s

Flemish tailor, Stephen Jaspar, made him doublets of blue and red velvet, lined with cloth of gold, and

purple satin embroidered with gold, as well as long gowns of Venetian damask, silver tissue, and cloth

of gold. Some of Henry’s garments were so heavily encrusted with gems and goldsmiths’ work that the

material beneath could barely be seen. The King was fond of making dramatic appearances in the

costume of other lands, and on various occasions wore Hungarian, Turkish, Russian, German, and

Prussian dress.

His clothes were perfumed with lavender and orangeflower water, or with his own

mixture of musk, ambergris, sugar, and rose water.

In 1541, he received a pair of rare perfumed

gloves from Italy. Normally, his gloves were ordered by the dozen.

The King spent £8,000 (£2,400,000) a year on clothes, not all of it usefully. He would order cloth of

gold, which was cut out for a new outfit, but then decide he wanted something different, so the material

was wasted.

In 1517, James Worsley, the Keeper of the Royal Wardrobe in the Tower of London, listed some of the

items of Henry’s clothing in his care, including “mantles, gowns of cloth of gold and velvet, coats,

jackets and doublets, glaudkyns (surcoats), bases, girdles, belts, furs and sables, powdered ermines,

cloths of gold of divers colours, velvets, satins, damasks, sarcanets and linen cloths.” There was a

mantle of purple tinsel lined with black lambswool, a gown of green velvet lined with green satin, a

surcoat of white cloth of silver lined with yellow cloth of gold, and a girdle set with Tudor roses and

portcullises.

Henry’s Inventory of 1547 lists forty-one gowns, twenty-five doublets, twenty-five pairs

of hose, twenty surcoats, sixteen frocks (loose surcoats), seven jerkins, four tuckers, ten cassocks, eight

cloaks, fifteen Spanish capes, twenty-three girdles and swordbelts, three purses, numerous bonnets,

shirts, gloves, and “slops” (drawers), and the robes of the Orders of the Garter, St. Michael, and the

Golden Fleece.

Most foreigners were of the opinion that English women dressed badly and immodestly, yet evidence

from portraits suggests that necklines were no lower in England than elsewhere. Although English

fashion did lag behind the rest of Europe, ladies of the court dressed sumptuously in gowns made up of

at least ten yards of material. This allowed for the mandatory long trains, which were either looped up

at the back to expose the kirtle, or carried over the arm.

Bodices were tight-fitting to the waist with

wide, square necklines trimmed with goldsmiths’ work or jewelled borders and tapering to a V at the

back,

where they were laced up. Hinged corsets or “bodies” with metal bands, covered in velvet,

leather, or silk, were introduced around 1530. In the 1540s, the square neckline began to give way to a

stand-up collar. When pregnant, women wore bodices with front lacings that could be let out to

accommodate their increasing girth.

By 1530, the farthingale had become popular, and skirts grew stiffer and wider; they were now worn

open at the front to expose the kirtle beneath. Around the waist, ladies wore a jewelled girdle, from

which hung a scented pomander on a chain. Sleeves were separate items; early in the reign they were

tight to the wrist with furred or embroidered cuffs.

Later they became increasingly elaborate, having

wide slashed interchangeable undersleeves with scalloped edges beneath long hanging oversleeves,

turned back to expose the rich fabric or fur of the lining. Most women wore black knitted worsted

stockings held up by garters.

Their only other undergarment was the chemise or smock.

Only unmarried girls were permitted to wear their hair loose, and queens on state occasions. Married

women wore hoods of “various sorts of velvet, cap fashion.”

The gable hood was a peculiarly English

fashion that was popular from around 1480 to around 1540. Inspired by the fivepointed arch of late

Perpendicular architecture, it framed the face and completely concealed the hair. Earlier versions had

long front partlets resting on the bodice, and the twin lappets of the black veil hanging down at the

back. By 1515, it was fashionable to loop up the partlets, and by 1536 they were above chin level, with

one lappet draped over the crown of the hood in the “whelk-shell fashion” seen in Holbein’s portrait of

Jane Seymour.

Gable hoods were made of layers of velvet lined with silk, decorated with rich

embroideries and goldsmiths’ work, stiffened with metal or wire and fixed with decorative pins.

They

invariably had black veils attached. The method of construction of these hoods is still not fully

understood, and it is believed to have had a symbolic significance that is only hinted at in the surviving

art and literature of the period.

In the 1520s, the French hood favoured by Anne Boleyn began to be worn by ladies of fashion. This

was a crescent-shaped contraption made of similar materials to the gable hood, and was worn on the

back of the head over a coif of pleated linen, exposing the hair, which was parted down the middle,

plaited, and coiled into a bun. A black, tubular veil hung down the back. By 1540, the French hood had

overtaken the gable hood in popularity, and was to remain in fashion for the next fifty years. Towards

the end of Henry’s reign, women also wore plumed hats resembling men’s bonnets, often over coifs.

Most formal clothes were made to order by professional tailors, using fabrics and trimmings supplied

by mercers and haberdashers, who usually imported their wares from overseas. They were often more

expensive than the best designer clothes of today: one doublet or gown would be worth the equivalent

of a labourer’s annual income.

The most costly, and therefore the most sought after, materials were silk in its various forms—velvet,

damask, brocade, and satin—and cloth of gold and silver, which were woven with warps of precious

metal, sometimes with a weft of coloured silk. These fabrics, which came mainly from Venice and

Genoa, were often richly patterned with pomegranates, artichokes, pinepples, rosebuds, and wreaths, in

brilliant dyes. Velvet often came with a raised pile; the purple velvets worn by royalty cost a staggering

41s.8d (£625) a yard, while silk damask cost about 8s (£120) a yard. The most expensive material was

cloth of gold, at the equivalent of £2170 per yard. Tinsel was an inferior form of cloth of gold used for

trimming garments, while tissue was a filmier type of cloth of gold, like taffeta.

Lace had traditionally been made in England for church vestments, and was sometimes imported from

Flanders. Katherine of Aragon is said to have established a cottage industry in embroidery and lace-

making in the Fens in the 1530s, encouraging the local women to follow her example in making

Spanish black-work, cutwork, and what is now known as Buckingham lace. Lace became fashionable

at court after 1533, when Catherine de’ Medici introduced the Italian mode of lace making into France.

English embroidery, once carried out mainly by nuns and chiefly on ecclesiastical vestments, had been

famous for eight centuries. Elaborate embroidery was now a popular feature of upper-class dress, and

was mainly produced by male professionals; by 1515, the Worshipful Company of Broderers had

become rich enough to build their own hall in London. Before the end of the fifteenth century, black

silk scrolled embroidery, used to decorate headdresses and the collars and cuffs of shirts and smocks,

had been introduced into England from Spain and the Low Countries.

Cutwork was an Italian form of

highly detailed embroidery on delicate fabrics. Gold braid or cord interlaced with embroidery and even

jewels became popular later in the reign.

Cotton was not known in England until the late sixteenth century, and fine linen, or “Holland cloth,”

which was imported from Scotland, Ireland, Flanders, and Germany, was expensive. It was used for

undergarments, shirts, and coifs, which were usually made and embroidered by the women in a family,

queens being no exception. Katherine of Aragon was an expert needlewoman who obviously enjoyed

sewing. On one occasion, she gave an audience to Wolsey and the papal legate “with a skein of white

thread about her neck.”

She made all Henry’s fine cambric shirts, and embroidered altar cloths and

church vestments.

There was a lively trade in courtiers’ cast-off garments, for no one wanted to be seen too often in the

same clothes, and money had to be raised to pay for new ones. Very few items of sixteenth-century

dress survive today: small fragments of embroidered material, shirts, gloves—such as the gilt-

embroidered gauntlets said to have belonged to Henry VIII

— coifs, and odd accessories are the only

fragile testimonials to the splendour of an extravagant, long-gone era.

During the reign of Henry VIII, mediaeval styles of jewellery gave way to Renaissance, or “antique,”

designs, which featured classical cameos and engravings. The King’s own signet ring was of gold and

had a seal backed by an intaglio, a gem (in this case a chalcedony) with an engraved design.

Portrait

heads appeared not only on cameos but also on medallions and in miniatures, which might be set in

pendants, brooches, and rings. Much jewellery featured designs from nature—flowers, birds, fish, and

leaves— and a lot was heavily symbolic, often embodying visual allusions or puns.

Jewellery, ever a sound investment, was even more important than dress in defining status, which was

why so many items of clothing were decorated with jewels. At court, both sexes indulged in a lavish

display of jewellery, most of it made by London goldsmiths or imported from Italy, Paris, or Bruges.

Officers of state and household wore heavy gold collars of SS-links with the Tudor badges of

portcullises and roses and a pendant rose, as seen in Holbein’s portrait of Thomas More. Others

bedecked themselves with gold chains, collars, pendants, rings and signets, carcanets, pectoral

ornaments, bracelets, bejewelled girdles and buttons, aiglets, pins, brooches, pomanders, hat jewels,

and double pendants known as tablets, which opened to reveal their contents. Some items were

decorated with enamels, while others reflected the interests of the wearer: in his portrait by Holbein, Sir

Henry Guildford sports a hat badge depicting mathematical instruments.

Henry VIII owned a huge collection of jewellery, greater than that of any other English king. Some of it

was inherited, but many items were made to order, sometimes to Henry’s own designs, by the King’s

Jewellers, Peter van der Wale of Antwerp, Hans of Antwerp, and Cornelius Heyss (or Hayes), or his

goldsmith, Robert Amadas, who later became Keeper of the Jewel House. Henry also sent agents

abroad to seek out fine and rare pieces. Henry’s jewels were the first in England to feature classical

motifs; among them were a pendant bearing an antique face, one tablet with a representation of

Hercules, and another of gold antique work decorated with ten emeralds and white putti.

Some of Henry’s jewels were highly detailed miniature works of art, such as the ship pendant with

masts and decks of diamonds, an enamelled cap badge of St. George and the dragon,

and “a brooch of

gold wherein is wrought and devised a tennis play and men playing at tennis with rackets in their

hands,” set with sapphires and rubies.

Some of the pendants seen in his portraits are thought to have

concealed watches, which were very rare luxuries at that time.

Henry’s collars were exceptionally splendid, being studded with precious stones of great price; one

collar weighed three kilograms. He also owned ninety-nine diamond rings. A fair number of his jewels

were either stolen, “lost off the King’s back,” or “given away at pleasure.”

In 1546, the King bought

the famous “Three Brothers,” an enormous diamond surrounded by three balas rubies and four large

pearls, which had once been owned by the Dukes of Burgundy, for an undisclosed price from the

Fugger bank in Augsburg, much to the disgust of his Council, who thought he already had enough

jewellery and had tried to prevent him from finding out that it was for sale.

A lot of the jewellery in Henry’s collection was of religious significance— reliquaries, hat badges,

crucifixes, hearts, devotional girdle books, and IHS or “Jesus” pendants like that favoured by Jane

Seymour—but with the Reformation, such things went out of fashion. The King also owned “a ring of

gold with a death’s head,”

which typified the contemporary fashion for jewels bearing reminders of

mortality.

Personalised jewellery was highly popular. Anne Boleyn owned at least three initial pendants: an AB

and a B, which appear in portraits of her,

and an A, which is worn by her daughter Elizabeth in the

Whitehall family group. Henry VIII owned a chain with H’s between the links, and also several items

of jewellery bearing his motto “Dieu et mon droit” and various royal badges.

The King ensured that his successive wives were lavishly supplied with jewellery. The Queen of

England owned two sets: her official jewels, which were inherited from her predecessors and included

some very ancient and historic pieces, and her personal jewellery, which was worth a fortune.

Few items of Tudor jewellery survive. As tastes changed, pieces were melted down and refashioned.

Therefore, most information about jewellery comes from portraits and written records.

The sixteenth century saw the design of armour reach its apotheosis. Each suit was made to be as

flexible and comfortable as possible, and was beautifully engraved and damascened with precious

metals. Different suits were worn for jousting, fighting on foot, and fighting on horseback, and all were

very expensive.

Henry VIII was passionately interested in the design of armour, and he amassed a large collection of it.

Five of his suits of armour survive, four at the Tower of London and one at Windsor, as well as his

horse armour, which is exquisitely chased with scrollwork.

Henry’s interest in armour was fuelled in 1509, when the Emperor Maximilian gave him a splendid suit

of gilded horse armour, “the Burgundian Bard,” which is now in the Tower. It was probably made by a

Dutch craftsman, Martin van Royne, and engraved and gilded by Paul van Vrelant of Brussels, and was

typical of the fine continental workmanship of the period. In 1514, the Emperor sent Henry a further

gift, a handsome suit of jousting armour made by the greatest armourer in Europe, Conrad Seusenhofer

of Innsbruck, from whom Henry had ordered two sets of armour in 1511; its grotesque helmet, with a

snarling, grimacing face (said to resemble Maximilian himself) and outsize ram’s horn ears, survives in

the Royal armouries; its brass spectacles are long lost.

Around 1514, Henry bought a beautifully made suit of silvered armour of very advanced design from

craftsmen in Flanders. It is damascened in silver and chased in gold with the legend of St. George, with

H’s and K’s engraved on the skirt hem; it is so well constructed that it must have fitted like a glove and

allowed unprecedented freedom of movement.

England had nothing that could compete with such craftsmanship, but the King determined to rectify

this. In 1511, he set up an armour workshop with Milanese craftsmen at Southwark, and in 1515 he

established a more important armoury near the friary at Greenwich Palace, enticing Martin van Royne

to come to England as Master Armourer and supervise the eleven armourers whom Henry had imported

from Germany and Flanders;

among them was Paul van Vrelant. This workshop, known as the Almain

Armoury, produced superb armour of a standard to equal anything in Europe. It made for the King,

among other things, two suits of foot armour, one dating from around 1515–1520, which was never

completed, and the other, much larger, from around 1540, as well as an engraved, silver-embossed