Such is the account given of the Cardinal’s household. Of his own daily habits we are told: The Cardinal rose early, and as soon as he came out of his bed-chamber he generally heard two masses. Then he made various necessary arrangements for the day, and about eight o’clock left his privy chamber ready dressed in the red robes of a Cardinal, his upper garment being of scarlet or else of fine crimson taffeta or satin, with a black velvet tippet of sables about his neck, and holding in his hand an orange, deprived of its internal substance, and filled with a piece of sponge, wetted with vinegar and other confections against pestilent airs (surely there could not be any at Hampton Court, chosen because of its very salubrity!), which he commonly held to his nose when he came to the presses (crowds) or was pestered with many suitors. (Were such unsavoury people allowed to come between the wind and his nobility?) This may account for so many portraits representing him with an orange in his hand. The Great Seal of England and the Cardinal’s hat were both borne before him by ’some lord or some gentleman of worship right solemnly,’ and as soon as he entered the presence chamber, the two tall priests with the two tall crosses were ready to attend upon him, with gentlemen ushers going before him bare-headed, and crying: ’On, masters, before, and make room for my lord!’ The crowd thus called on consisted not only of common suitors, but often of peers of the realm, who chose, or by circumstances were obliged, thus to crouch to an upstart. In this state the Cardinal proceeded down his hall, with a sergeant-at-arms before him, carrying a large silver mace, and two gentlemen, each carrying a large plate of silver. On his arrival at the gate or hall-door, he found his mule ready, covered with crimson velvet trappings. The cavalcade which accompanied him when he took the air or went to preside over some meeting was of course equally pompous, consisting of men-at-arms and a long train of nobility and gentry. Fancy what a life to lead day after day! None but the vainest of coxcombs, the most conceited, arrogant, and ostentatious of small-minded parvenus, could have borne it for any length of time. But it agreed with Wolsey’s shoddy greatness; he delighted in all that has ever delighted small minds—idle show and pompous exhibitions. Both at Whitehall and Hampton Court he held high revel, as we learn from George Cavendish, his gentleman usher, especially when the King paid him a visit. ’At such times,’ says Cavendish, ’there wanted no preparations or goodly furniture, with viands of the finest sorts ... such pleasures were then devised for the King’s comfort and consolation as might be invented or by man’s wit designed.’ Of course, Cavendish wrote like the flunkey he was: ’The banquets were set forth with masks and mummeries in so gorgeous a sort and costly manner that it was a heaven to behold.’