Within a few short paragraphs of Wolf Hall, Hilary Mantel, the master wordsmith and storyteller, has converted us from being a reader to an invisible onlooker of the sixteenth century court of Henry Tudor. Henry’s love life has long been chronicled in print and on the screen (and Wolf Hall too has been adapted skillfully by the BBC). Wolf Hall is the account of how Thomas Cromwell, of relatively low birth (remember, no one was “woke” in the 1530s), through intellectual and strategic prowess came to be Henry’s most influential advisor. It is some testament to Hilary Mantel that although her novel has the disadvantage of every reader knowing the ending (Anne Boleyn fails to keep the interest of Henry and is doomed) it unfolds in such a way that it still catches the reader off guard. So, what of the main protagonist; is he a hero or a villain? Cromwell is ambitious for himself, and in a different time and in a democratic framework, he would be the master, not the servant. Henry Tudor is a well disguised psychopath and Cromwell must be his proxy in arranging the matching and dispatching of the women he uses. There is high reward for being in Henry’s orbit; but a high price to be paid too. What type of man could leverage himself out of a forge in Putney and into the court of the King? A man who holds his own counsel, who does not suffer fools, who is discreet, who hides his emotions and who is ruthless. Such a person will attract admirers and enemies in equal measure. The open contempt of Cromwell by those of superior birth informs us how little they know him and how much they underestimate him. Cromwell is a hustler adept at waiting in the long grass.
All of the intrigue and the cat-and-mouse games of the main players has the sweeping historical backdrop of England’s religious reformation and European renaissance. If we are not in London on the Thames we are with Cromwell on his earlier travails abroad, particularly Antwerp and Italy. Cromwell as described here is definitely alpha-male; soldier, financier, linguist, lawyer, statesman. But, given the burden of tragedy in his own life, we never envy Cromwell. As for all of those abilities, he still comes across like a man who has spent his life living on his wits. The game is the same, even if the environment is different.
In a different review (Girl, Woman, Other) we see women taking control of their own destinies. In Wolf Hall the women are not “bit characters” but as chattels (property of their father or husband) their value as humans is intrinsically linked to their youth, beauty, sexual attractiveness (and paradoxically their sexual restraint), and fertility. To assure her place and security, a woman had to marry well and had to produce a male heir. This was the promise Anne Boleyn made to Henry Tudor – annul your long marriage to your Catholic wife, marry me and I will give you a son. Cromwell has some sympathy for the women of the court and relates well to them; he understands their need to be in favour. Strewn across the narrative are formal and informal alliances; no one can sit on the side-lines, and betrayal (real or imagined) is best avoided if one plans for a long life.
The novel is called Wolf Hall, which was the home seat of Jane Seymour, Anne Boleyn’s successor. As the book progresses it is hinted that Cromwell alone is aware that this modest and plain woman could ultimately lead to the downfall of the dazzling Boleyn. It is not lost on the reader that Mistress Seymour, authentic in her kindness and loyalty, and without a Machiavellian bone in her body, is the one who gains the King’s love and loyalty.
If you are not a reader, watch the television series. If you are a reader and have not yet feasted on Wolf Hall, do so this year. If you have already read it, you will not be bored with a second or even third reading! If I could only rescue one book in the event of a house fire, this would be it.
Mary Mathews
