"Monday morning the dukes are back. Their instructions are to turn out the occupants this very day, because the king wants to send in his own builders and furnishers and get the palace ready to hand over to Lady Anne, who needs a London house of her own.
...
Behind [Gascoigne] trots George Cavendish, the cardinal's gentleman usher; his face is raw and open with dismay. They bring out the cardinal's vestments, his copes. Stiff with embroidery, strewn with pearls, encrusted with gemstones, they seem to stand by themselves. The raiders knock each one down as if they are knocking down Thomas Becket. They itemize it, and having reduced it to its knees and broken its spine, they toss it into their traveling crates. Cavendish flinches: 'For God's sake, gentlemen, line those chests with a double thickness of cambric. Would you shred the fine work that has taken nuns a lifetime?'" (45)
Mantel, Hilary. Wolf Hall. New York: Picador, 2009.
Mantel fits in so much here--showing, not telling. The importance (perceived or real) of the clergy's vestments to his identity, the worth of clothing in the sixteenth century, the work that went into such regal clothing, gender roles in textile work. Also, a little clothing conservation. Most important here is probably that his copes become more literal symbols of Cardinal Wolsey, "reduced to [their] knees."
Her main character, Thomas Cromwell, muses later on the fate of the cardinal's clothing after his death: "The cardinal's scarlet clothes now lie folded and empty. They cannot be wasted. They will be cut up and become other garments. Who knows where they will get to over the years? Your eye will be taken by a crimson cushion or a patch of red on a banner or ensign. You will see a glimpse of them in a man's inner sleeve or a whore's petticoat." (245)
This, of course, is not always literal; it also speaks to the holy man's association with the color red. Even if his actual garments were not reused in such menial ways, the color will always remind. Are there any Wolsey garments still extant?
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| "Cardinal Wolsey Refusing to Deliver Up the Seals of His Office." Daniel Maclise, 1850. Winchester City Council Museum. From here. No copes, but beautiful lace! |
Behind [Gascoigne] trots George Cavendish, the cardinal's gentleman usher; his face is raw and open with dismay. They bring out the cardinal's vestments, his copes. Stiff with embroidery, strewn with pearls, encrusted with gemstones, they seem to stand by themselves. The raiders knock each one down as if they are knocking down Thomas Becket. They itemize it, and having reduced it to its knees and broken its spine, they toss it into their traveling crates. Cavendish flinches: 'For God's sake, gentlemen, line those chests with a double thickness of cambric. Would you shred the fine work that has taken nuns a lifetime?'" (45)
Mantel, Hilary. Wolf Hall. New York: Picador, 2009.
Mantel fits in so much here--showing, not telling. The importance (perceived or real) of the clergy's vestments to his identity, the worth of clothing in the sixteenth century, the work that went into such regal clothing, gender roles in textile work. Also, a little clothing conservation. Most important here is probably that his copes become more literal symbols of Cardinal Wolsey, "reduced to [their] knees."
Her main character, Thomas Cromwell, muses later on the fate of the cardinal's clothing after his death: "The cardinal's scarlet clothes now lie folded and empty. They cannot be wasted. They will be cut up and become other garments. Who knows where they will get to over the years? Your eye will be taken by a crimson cushion or a patch of red on a banner or ensign. You will see a glimpse of them in a man's inner sleeve or a whore's petticoat." (245)
This, of course, is not always literal; it also speaks to the holy man's association with the color red. Even if his actual garments were not reused in such menial ways, the color will always remind. Are there any Wolsey garments still extant?