All About Thomas Cromwell
In “Wolf Hall” and “Bring Up the Bodies”, the novelist Hilary Mantel had caused a small revolution. The two volumes, with an as-yet-unpublished third one coming, cover the period in the reign of Henry VIII from the time of his repudiation of Katherine of Aragon, his wife of nearly 20 years, the attempts at the annulment of that marriage, through the King’s infatuation with and ascendance of Anne Boleyn -- next-in-line of an impressive series of wives the King will have managed to accumulate over a long lifetime – to her downfall. But it is not the King who is the central character here, though he is pivotal: it is his chief minister during the decade from about 1530 to 1540, Thomas Cromwell.
The novels propose an entirely new view of this brilliant and, for a short time, very powerful manipulator of events. In complete opposition to the heretofore held view of him as the villain of the drama, with his opposite number Thomas More being, literally, the saint, Mantel paints a picture of a most reasonable, almost a modern man, one who prefers peaceful methods to achieve his ends whenever possible; a manipulator to be sure but not an unreasonable one – unlike Thomas More, who is depicted as an unbending religious fanatic. It shows, in a flashback, Cromwell’s extremely humble origins, his escape from his bully of a father and his travels in various parts of Europe where during his youth he was a mercenary soldier here, a blacksmith there, a merchant at yet another place, and in the course of which he learned languages and developed a tolerant view of the world. He was also exposed to the burgeoning Reformation movement. On his return to England, he entered the service of Cardinal Wolsey, where he remained until the Cardinal’s downfall over the matter of Anne Boleyn and the unattainable annulment. Cromwell recognizes the inevitability of the new marriage fueled by the King’s relentless desire for a male heir, and assists him in his endeavors. Henry, in turn, recognizes a brilliant advocate when he sees one: he employs Cromwell, promotes him to higher and higher offices and grows increasingly reliant on him. With Cromwell’s assistance and advice, he secedes from the Catholic Church and the authority of the Pope, names himself head not only of the State but of the newly established Anglican Church as well, and does indeed marry Anne Boleyn. Cromwell is at the apex of his power. This, however, is but a fleeting moment in this tumultuous period: no sooner does it become obvious that Anne Boleyn is as incapable of fulfilling her designated role as mother to future kings than the capricious Henry gets tired of her. Cromwell, having engineered her rise, is now expected to engineer her downfall. This he does, always serving the King and his aims. At the end of “Bring Up the Bodies”, the circle had closed and Anne Boleyn is doomed; the King has the next candidate already picked out.
The history is well known. What Mantel does so brilliantly is viewing that well-known history through a different lens, introducing Thomas Cromwell as a modern politician of the better sort: maneuvering and doing what is necessary for the greater good with the least harm. He might burn books if absolutely necessary but he would not burn people if he could help it. He is loyal to friends to the best of his ability. He is an internationalist with an understanding of the wider implications of policy and politicks; and, first and foremost, he is as close to a reasonable secularist in an age of fervent religious fanaticism as it is possible for him to be. At least we see him that way through Hilary Mantel’s lens.
I don’t suppose this would count as a spoiler if I predicted that the third and final volume of the novels, not yet published, will end with Cromwell’s downfall. In the court of Henry VIII, favorites, whether wives or ministers, did not have a very long shelf life. Cromwell’s ascendancy lasts less than a decade; by 1540 he will have gone the way of his beloved mentor Cardinal Wolsey, and so many others. But in these books we have grown fond of him, and learned to look at a crucial period of English history through his eyes.
“Wolf Hall” was published in 2009, “Bring Up the Bodies” in 2012. Without waiting for the final volume and true denouement of the Cromwell saga, the Royal Shakespeare Company staged an adaptation (by Mike Poulton) in London, to great acclaim. The novels’ structure was preserved: there were two separate plays that one could see individually or within the same day as a “marathon” experience. This production had been transferred to New York recently where I saw it last week. Most interestingly, the day after I saw the staged play, a six-part television adaptation begun on PBS, adapted by completely different people, acted by completely different actors. This convergence of three different versions existing simultaneously was truly fascinating to witness, especially because all three are quite unique, the stage production and the television one very different from each other and both different from the book. The book wins, hands down. On stage, a beautifully performed illustration takes place that feels like a severely abbreviated version of what one had read, with the events following one another swiftly. But the thing that jolted one in the first place, the inner life of the protagonists and the nuances that make all the difference in the reasoning and conclusions they come to is missing entirely. On the other hand, the television version goes into more detail but emphasizes different aspects than the book does, and, again, is not able to convey the depths achieved by the novels. It is an unusual opportunity to compare three versions of the same amazing work, but my conclusion is: read the book!
The novels propose an entirely new view of this brilliant and, for a short time, very powerful manipulator of events. In complete opposition to the heretofore held view of him as the villain of the drama, with his opposite number Thomas More being, literally, the saint, Mantel paints a picture of a most reasonable, almost a modern man, one who prefers peaceful methods to achieve his ends whenever possible; a manipulator to be sure but not an unreasonable one – unlike Thomas More, who is depicted as an unbending religious fanatic. It shows, in a flashback, Cromwell’s extremely humble origins, his escape from his bully of a father and his travels in various parts of Europe where during his youth he was a mercenary soldier here, a blacksmith there, a merchant at yet another place, and in the course of which he learned languages and developed a tolerant view of the world. He was also exposed to the burgeoning Reformation movement. On his return to England, he entered the service of Cardinal Wolsey, where he remained until the Cardinal’s downfall over the matter of Anne Boleyn and the unattainable annulment. Cromwell recognizes the inevitability of the new marriage fueled by the King’s relentless desire for a male heir, and assists him in his endeavors. Henry, in turn, recognizes a brilliant advocate when he sees one: he employs Cromwell, promotes him to higher and higher offices and grows increasingly reliant on him. With Cromwell’s assistance and advice, he secedes from the Catholic Church and the authority of the Pope, names himself head not only of the State but of the newly established Anglican Church as well, and does indeed marry Anne Boleyn. Cromwell is at the apex of his power. This, however, is but a fleeting moment in this tumultuous period: no sooner does it become obvious that Anne Boleyn is as incapable of fulfilling her designated role as mother to future kings than the capricious Henry gets tired of her. Cromwell, having engineered her rise, is now expected to engineer her downfall. This he does, always serving the King and his aims. At the end of “Bring Up the Bodies”, the circle had closed and Anne Boleyn is doomed; the King has the next candidate already picked out.
The history is well known. What Mantel does so brilliantly is viewing that well-known history through a different lens, introducing Thomas Cromwell as a modern politician of the better sort: maneuvering and doing what is necessary for the greater good with the least harm. He might burn books if absolutely necessary but he would not burn people if he could help it. He is loyal to friends to the best of his ability. He is an internationalist with an understanding of the wider implications of policy and politicks; and, first and foremost, he is as close to a reasonable secularist in an age of fervent religious fanaticism as it is possible for him to be. At least we see him that way through Hilary Mantel’s lens.
I don’t suppose this would count as a spoiler if I predicted that the third and final volume of the novels, not yet published, will end with Cromwell’s downfall. In the court of Henry VIII, favorites, whether wives or ministers, did not have a very long shelf life. Cromwell’s ascendancy lasts less than a decade; by 1540 he will have gone the way of his beloved mentor Cardinal Wolsey, and so many others. But in these books we have grown fond of him, and learned to look at a crucial period of English history through his eyes.
“Wolf Hall” was published in 2009, “Bring Up the Bodies” in 2012. Without waiting for the final volume and true denouement of the Cromwell saga, the Royal Shakespeare Company staged an adaptation (by Mike Poulton) in London, to great acclaim. The novels’ structure was preserved: there were two separate plays that one could see individually or within the same day as a “marathon” experience. This production had been transferred to New York recently where I saw it last week. Most interestingly, the day after I saw the staged play, a six-part television adaptation begun on PBS, adapted by completely different people, acted by completely different actors. This convergence of three different versions existing simultaneously was truly fascinating to witness, especially because all three are quite unique, the stage production and the television one very different from each other and both different from the book. The book wins, hands down. On stage, a beautifully performed illustration takes place that feels like a severely abbreviated version of what one had read, with the events following one another swiftly. But the thing that jolted one in the first place, the inner life of the protagonists and the nuances that make all the difference in the reasoning and conclusions they come to is missing entirely. On the other hand, the television version goes into more detail but emphasizes different aspects than the book does, and, again, is not able to convey the depths achieved by the novels. It is an unusual opportunity to compare three versions of the same amazing work, but my conclusion is: read the book!
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