I think my favourite passage this time (this week’s grim smile) was Lucille’s comment when Louise Théroigne wondered how Camille gets away with stuff (and don’t we all wonder?): “It’s a mystery. I suppose—you know how in families there’s usually one child who gets away with more than the others? Well, perhaps it’s like that in revolutions as well.” I think we all know what she means.
Yes! Camille "getting away with stuff" feels like the little inch of safety where we all stand in this book. He and we feel always seconds away from disaster. One of my favourite lines from Camille this week: "Max, you're almost in a worse state than I am. If I am disseminating panic, you are communicating disaster." Oh, Camille.
Lots of great Camille moments this week! I chuckled at his resolution to "get home to Lucile and after this be very very careful and very very good." Good luck, bud! I think you'll need it.
A minor thing to note but I loved how Mantel named her characters in the conversation between the Duke and de Sillery - at first mention they are the Duke of Orleans and the Comte de Genlis. Then, the Comte becomes de Sillery, and the Duke, Philippe. By the end of the exchange, de Sillery is Charles-Alexis, and they both seem thoroughly undressed and undone by their now-precarious ambitions to power. I don't presume to know the mind of Mantel, but the effects of all these little choices are pretty palpable!
Every word seems so carefully chosen and calculated. I feel totally overwhelmed imagining how she did this! The scale of it, and it being her first book… *faints*
I'm getting into this book more and more. Two excellent chapters this week and there are lots of little bits of humour. Camille's cousin will always be called Camille's cousin.
In your footnotes you ask about the chapter title and what the three blades are but the title comes from the estimate of the cost of creating the Guillotine machine. In the list we are told To three blades (two in reserve) 600 lives. The three blades are all for killing. Two in reserve in case the first one breaks during testing or while dealing out death. Horrifyingly reserves are needed in case the blade becomes blunt and fails to do its job.
Please tell me I'm not the only one who -- when it came to the part about the men from Marseille and their new anthem -- did not immediately think of that wonderful scene in Casablanca, where the crowd at Rick's Cafe start singing it and drown out the Nazis singing their own patriotic song.
Can I also recommend a similar scene in Jean Renoir’s La Grande Illusion, set in a WW1 prisoner of war camp, which presumably influenced the Casablanca scene?
Jean Renoir also made a movie about the early years of the revolution, centered on that very band of volunteers who marched from Marseille to Paris in 1792. It is called, naturally, "La Marseillaise", and both that song and "Ca Ira" are prominently featured.
And then there was the crowd of football fans who, while being evacuated from the stadium on the night of the Bataclan attacks, calmly walked through the tunnel singing the Marseillaise. I found it very odd and moving that this bloodthirsty song could work as such an anthem of unity and resilience.
And fellow W&Pers, let‘s not forget how the Marseillaise thrillingly takes over at the end of Schumann‘s „The Grenadiers“.
Re: Casablanca and La Marseillaise, coincidentally, a blogger I follow included this article among some links... it's 10 years old, but its a fabulous & thorough analysis of "that" scene. Someone in the comments mentions the Renoir film that Judith mentions below too!
At this point, I'm getting strong 'life goes on' vibes - yes, the revolution continues, but real life (in all it's messiness) also continues. Gabrielle has her baby, Camille has woman trouble and Lucile deals with tricky women (and has her baby).
It comes as no surprise to the reader - this reader, anyway - that things are more than a bot chaotic. There are so many factions and factions-within-factions that it's amazing that anybody git anything done.
I'm now wondering whether, had Louis been smarter, he might have played one faction off against another and kept his head. But Louis does seem badly advised.
The cast of thousands is still defeating me at times,but I'm not sure that matters too much. If you're not quite sure who supports whom, that may be a pretty accurate picture of the time.
The guillotine is seen as being humane, but I can't help wondering whether that humanity - and efficiency - contributed to the high number of deaths. Had death been messier and violent, could the crowd have been sickened by it or would it pander to their blood lust?
And I think you're right about the guillotine. Sounds like our man Charles-Henri Sanson probably agrees. It's a bit too easy to remove heads these days. *Checks own head, still on, phew.*
I read something that suggested the execution of the nuns from Compiegne may have been a turning point - and hastened Robespierre's downfall. (I'm not sure that's the consensus, by the way.)
Maybe it does take something as significant as that - and even a ‘clinical’ execution can't hide the horror of that.
While we won't survive long enough to see their execution or Robespierre's fall, we do get to see the revulsion and reaction to the executions. In fact, our attempts to stop the killing are a major part of this story. But I've said too much, and we're getting ahead of ourselves.
It’s amazing how Hillary’s writing reads like a little screenplay for each section. I can envision the setting and the characters talking together on stage.
Mantel loved the theatre. And of course, turned the trilogy into plays. I wish someone would make a play of APOGS. Possibly with the help of Lin-Manuel Miranda.
I was getting strong Hamilton vibes when Dumouriez agreed that peace would be a disaster because war would benefit his career: "Wonderful opportunity for all sorts of things."
My sense is that Louis wasn't just badly advised: he was not cut out for the job; indecisive, wanted to do the right thing, but not always sure what to do. Unlike Charles I, he did seem open to the idea of a constitutional monarchy. But you're right, he needed to be smarter, more decisive. There was an opportunity in 1790. But, hey, it's 1792 now, and that door's shut.
What struck me most in this section was how Danton, Robespierre, and Camille operate in public with a loyalty that feels increasingly hollow in private—like they’re orbiting the same revolution but under different gravitational pulls. The tension between admiration, necessity, and underlying contempt is so finely drawn here. Also found the framing of Madame Roland and Anne Théroigne powerful—how both are punished in opposite ways for inhabiting public space as women. This period always feels eerily modern, and Mantel makes that discomfort hard to look away from.
Across these two chapters the motif and potential analogy of childbirth loomed large for me, both with Gabrielle and Lucille's experiences and the descriptions afforded to them. Its inevitability (Louise's bluntness on this!) and danger (Annette's fear for Lucille) and intensity (Lucille's "purity of love" that leaves her nearly speechless) and fragility (Camille holding his son, "the fragile scrap of being"). Yes, a reminder that life continues and these revolutionary leaders were married to the normalcies of life; but also, I think, a reminder of just how human the desire for and pursuit of revolution is.
The other thing that stood out to me was the notion from Vergniaud that he was his "own man" and Danton's scoffing condescension in response: "But you will find it does not work out like that." The wondering I have: how self-aware is Danton as he says this?
(Oh, and "knitted God" was a mic-drop moment in this reading, too. Marvelous!)
I liked the echo too, a page or so later where Lucile tells Camille that he doesn't need Robespierre & Danton to stay on good terms because he has a mind of his own, and he also replies "Yes, but you will find it doesn't work out like that."
Camille continues to be fascinating to me—I feel like if Camille was removed from this story, you lose so many of the contradictions and nuances of what is happening... (Therefore: very glad he's there!)
He'll be 100 next year - or would've been. I had the hare-brained idea to try to watch all his films before then, but there are so many I became overwhelmed before I even began! Could this be my reminder to revisit the project?!
Forgive me if I’ve missed something, but are we not going to discuss the attempted seduction of Camille? I love Camille, but how it made me laugh to watch him squirm with discomfort.
I love the switch up in dialogue style - it’s all a theatre and all are actors on a big world stage. My fav passage, though, is in the dining scene with Danton present, at the Roland’s’: “He was possessed by a temptation to lean over a stick a fork in him to see if he would scream, but he resisted it, and dragged his eyes glumly to his plate. There was a nameless soup, at one both watery and floury; there was a meager portion of a tough fowl, and some turnips which, though small, were past their first youth.” The coiled energy of people around food is just unreal to me. Only Mantel - and to think of all the Wolf hall food passages…. Exquisite details and meaning….
I didn't find myself pulled in as strongly as usual by the Three Blades chapter, perhaps because Mantel has to devote a lot of time to explaining the people & events of the Brissotin Ministry - although I did love the king’s weary attempt to solve the mystery of Robespierre: "You see, if only I knew what the man wanted. Perhaps I could give it him, and that would be an end of it." I also appreciated how both Danton & Robespierre know Camille too well to rise to his provocations: "I mean that you sound like a fifteen-year-old and what you are trying to do is pick a fight, so why don't you go home for a few days and quarrel with your father?" & "I can't argue with you this morning. I have to conserve my strength for important things."
I was much happier when we reached the chorus of women’s voices in The Tactics of a Bull, especially the way that the king’s actions & subsequent suffering is reported by pious, conventional Gabrielle, who tries to believe that her husband and his friend cannot have blood on their hands because their faces seem kind and familiar.
I also loved some of the women's dry observations about our "heroes":
Gabrielle: "They have a way of turning calamities to their own account."
Lucile: "I suppose - you know how in families there's usually one child who gets away with more than the others? Well, perhaps it's like that in revolutions as well."
& Annette: "It's remarkable, really, how many quite ordinary things Camille can't or won't come to terms with."
Ah I've just realised I forgot to flag the obvious echo:
Louis asks Dumouriez where Robespierre comes from. D says Artois. Henry VIII will ask the same question of Cromwell in The Mirror and the Light. Putney. But yes, in a deeper sense... Where do you come from?
Came across this interview with a French MP, and author of histories of the Revolution/ biographies of revolutionary figures (the books are in French). It's an interesting perspective on both Danton and Robespierre.
Thanks so much for sharing this article! So interesting to think about the historiography of the French Revolution, and the ideological purposes it has been put to in the centuries since.
For my part, being admittedly ignorant of the details of this period before this readalong, I have been a little surprised to find that the perception of these characters - both in some of the comments here and on the Revolutions podcast - is that they are largely villainous. Obviously they’re complicated and have intentions that run the gamut from pure and good to corrupt and self serving, so I don’t think it helps to swing entirely the other way and declare them unimpeachable heroes. Do we expect sweeping social change to be made by nice people with no personal ambition, though? Seems naive. Mantel certainly seems to relish their complexity.
This comment from the above interview stood out to me: “This is connected to a certain ideological offensive we see today, which seeks to turn the French Revolution into a moment of darkness and confusion, one according to which nothing is worth remembering about it except the Terror. It wants to tell us that even if revolutions begin with admirable ideals, they always end badly. This is what many cultural endeavors are telling us today.”
It does seem to serve a particular purpose to paint the Revolution in this light. Although of course the interviewee has his own purpose for rehabilitating Robespierre as a hero of the people (I’m probably just more sympathetic to that angle, myself!). Ahh, history! It’s complicated.
Thanks again for sharing this article - it has thoroughly distracted me from work this morning! Disappointed to report that this guy’s books don’t seem to be translated into English. I’d be interested to read Jacobins! if it were available.
Oh and yes agree that Belley sounds like a fascinating figure!
Yes, Mantel certainly relishes the complexity and ambiguity! These people are neither heroes nor villains, or perhaps both depending on the time of day. That's the great advantage of novels isn't it, and why I think we get so attached to Camille, Max and Danton.
I'll admit I'm a bit reticent about politicians and political theorists rehabilitating the Jacobins. Their critics have reason to talk up their crimes, but it would be very dangerous to lionise these revolutionaries, or see them as a model for either revolution or government in our own times. These men believed in armed insurrection and perpetrated state terror. History has many far more worthy role-models for a revolutionary politics in the twenty-first century. So yeah, the Jacobins magazine makes me a bit queasy!
What is great about APOGS is we are not asked to condemn or condone these characters. Mantel isn't saying, what awful people and what an awful revolution. She's asking, what must it have been like to be caught up in those events. So we feel both excitement and terror, hope and dread.
I suspect we all take something different away from the book, in terms of lessons learned – Mantel talks about this in her Author's Note at the beginning. But we all feel like we've lived through the events of 1789–1794, in all its messy reality.
Well put Simon - the question of what must it have been like to be caught up in those events is very present for me as a reader. Mantel makes these characters and their moment feel so immediate and vivid, and I am loving being able to peer into their psyches as all these events unfold. Personally I am not interested in whether characters likable to me (the scourge of modern book reviews), I want all that depth and mess and dimension! Not a unique point of view, I’m sure fellow readers here agree.
Setting aside the question of role models for our times (I agree we don’t need more armed insurrections), do we think France could have created a republic by nonviolent means, in that particular historical moment? Acknowledging that obviously there’s a spectrum with nonviolence on one end and 17000 executions on the other. I’m not sure I expect anyone to answer that, it’s not knowable - and for my own part I definitely lack the knowledge to be able to speculate on other possible futures. Others’ thoughts welcome, though!
On a lighter note, Simon, if you dislike Jacobin magazine you will absolutely loathe the regrettable corner of the internet I recently discovered - I’m calling it horny Jacobin tumblr? I couldn’t bear to read any of the fan fiction down that hole but it’s there if anyone cares to look for it 😆
Haha, I think I may have stumbled across horny Jacobin tumblr already (great name btw). Oddly, I mind that less than the politicos, it feels more creative and harmless. Perhaps it's because I sometimes have a bit of a crush on Camille and Lucile. But oh my!!
Yeah, who knows about how the French Revolution could have played out. There were more moderate, less violent people caught up in events (including I think Brissot, who gets minced by what is to come). But it was a paranoid period of history, and the revolutionaries turned on each other, killing each other for not being pure enough. I'm afraid we see that sort of holier-than-thou in-fighting on the Left today, although thankfully without quite so much bloodshed!
I understand why radical politics wants to reclaim the slur of "Jacobin" (a lot of non-Jacobins have been called Jacobins throughout history). But if anything, APOGS makes me more sympathetic towards the Girondists, and maybe I'd have more time for a magazine called The Brissotins!
Brissot is an interesting one. So far I have not found him impressive, but I should remember I am seeing him through his adversaries' eyes. His quick and dirty war with Austria hasn't really delivered the triumph he promised, though (that's coming from the podcast ep for this week, not so much the novel - I'm curious to see how Mantel treats the war, given her penchant for letting massive events unfold off-stage). I haven't really got my head around the Girondists, more reading required for me there. Perhaps now I'll have to go down a rabbit hole of alternative endings and their would-be players!
Definitely agree about today's leftish in-fighting. The quest for purity of thought and deed is so self-defeating, in their times and ours. I guess I'll take a twitter pile-on over a beheading, but it'd be nice if we could skip both options and get on with, say, creating a more equitable society? One that allows for many different points of view, even? If only!
Oh, and a crush on Camille and Lucile seems completely reasonable to me! Camille does have a touch the romantic lead's je ne sais quoi (the floppy hair, probably). I am currently beholden to two geriatric cats so I have no vacancy, but I did think if I ever have cats again in the future, Camille and Lolotte would be quite good names for a feline pair. Camille could be Coucou for short (yes clearly I have thought too much about this)!
Amazing. I can see Camille and Lolette already, preening and casting their dagger eyes at the mog across the road.
I don't really know what much more about Brissot and the Girondists, but you're right we get a very partial view of them here from the perspective of their adversaries. The war plan is stupid, not to say amoral, but then so is Robespierre's idea that it is a conspiracy to destroy the revolution. But Manon Roland impresses me (in this book anyway), with her distrust of Danton and his thuggery.
I think as Mike Duncan says on the podcast, the revolution polarises people into two camps. Those who fear mob rule and those who fear aristocratic counter-revolution. The truth is both fears are justified, but there's no one holding that middle ground.
Ya- I really enjoyed reading such a different perspective, & one that I certainly have a sympathy with. I’m doing the Wolf Hall trilogy slow read, too- very interesting to observe my own reactions to historical fiction set in a time/place I know well (Tudor England) vs one I have only the most basic familiarity with ( Revolutionary France). Lots of rabbit holes to go down.
Once again we see the every day human stories of those involved in the revolution. This week I appreciated the female perspectives again, particularly Lucille managing the last few days of pregnancy, the labour, then the feelings she had for her baby. Given all she went through with endometriosis and not being able to have children of her own, Mantel did not shy away from portraying these events with accuracy and feeling. I also appreciated the comic moments, her writing is true art.
I have to say, I just don’t recognize Mantel’s version of Louis Philippe II, Duke of Orléans. The idea that he was secretly angling for the throne doesn’t hold up—not if you look at his actual behavior. And he wasn’t nearly as silly or unserious as he comes across in the novel. In fact, his actions tell a very different story. If anything, he consistently made choices that hurt his own standing as a royal and aligned him—at real personal risk—with the Revolution.
He publicly renounced his noble title. He adopted the name Philippe Égalité in 1792, symbolically rejecting royal status and aligning himself with republican ideals.
He voted for the execution of Louis XVI. His vote directly eliminated any prospect of a constitutional monarchy in which he might have ruled. It also severed his ties with royalists.
He never organized or led a political faction. He made no attempt to build a personal power base, party, or movement to claim authority or replace the king.
He never courted foreign support. No documentary evidence shows he sought British or other foreign backing to seize power—contrary to persistent monarchist rumors.
He voluntarily opened the Palais-Royal to the public. He created a revolutionary free-speech zone, empowering radical discourse—not consolidating personal control or propaganda.
He provided early financial and logistical support to the Revolution. Funded radical journals, deputies, and public gatherings—not dynastic efforts.
He joined the Third Estate in at the Estates General in 1789. He broke with the Second Estate and aligned himself with popular sovereignty at a critical moment.
He volunteered his sons (and himself) for military service in the Revolutionary Army. This was a risky, egalitarian move inconsistent with monarchic ambition.
He did not resist arrest or attempt to save himself. He submitted passively during the Reign of Terror, even as he faced execution—behavior inconsistent with someone secretly seeking power.
No credible contemporary evidence supports claims of ambition. Allegations of conspiracy were made only by political enemies (royalists and Jacobins) and never substantiated with direct proof.
In general, Mantel portrays the Revolution’s protagonists as hypocrites or poseurs. Robespierre is tortured and neurotic; Danton is venal; Camille is a narcissistic tragedian. What they are not—at least in the novel—is morally serious revolutionaries.
I wonder if this is a particular English perspective. Her tone aligns with a long English literary tradition of viewing the Revolution with irony, moral ambivalence, or outright disdain. Carlyle accurately recounts and brilliantly dramatizes but emphasizes chaos, hypocrisy, and guillotine horror over ideological transformation. Edmund Burke condemned the Revolution as a moral apocalypse. Even Dickens in “A Tale of Two Cities” offers sympathy but ultimately centers British restraint over French excess.
It reminds me of Robert Graves’ “I, Claudius,” where Augustus’s reign ends up looking like nothing but sex, poison, and family drama. But this was the moment Rome became an empire and laid the groundwork for Europe. Obviously, he was doing more than just surviving dinner parties.
Mantel portrays Danton as largely driven by greed and self-interest. But did he actually take bribes? That accusation has long haunted his reputation and diminished his place as a revolutionary martyr. His most recent biographer, David Lawday, strongly disputes the charge. In a (largely negative) review of Lawday’s book in the London Review of Books, Mantel dismissed his defense of Danton as overly generous or even naïve—but she also acknowledges a key fact: there is no direct evidence that Danton ever accepted a bribe. https://www.lrb.co.uk/the-paper/v31/n15/hilary-mantel/he-roared.
The case against Danton has always been circumstantial and politically charged. Here are points in his favor:
No documented proof of bribery: No financial records, personal correspondence, or credible witness testimony links Danton to illicit gains.
He lived well, but not extravagantly: His lifestyle was comfortable but not inconsistent with his legal income, especially as a successful lawyer before the Revolution.
Association with corrupt figures isn’t guilt: Danton’s ally Fabre d’Églantine was guilty of embezzlement, but no evidence ties Danton directly to his schemes.
The charges came from political rivals: Robespierre and Saint-Just accused Danton of corruption in 1794—during a power struggle at the height of the Terror.
He was denied a fair trial: At his prosecution, Danton was barred from speaking in his defense, and the Convention suspended normal procedures—suggesting fear of his persuasiveness, not confidence in his guilt.
Many who knew Danton—like Camille—defended his integrity.
While Mantel is brilliant in rendering interior lives, she doesn’t grapple seriously with the Revolution’s ideals—its commitment to universality, equality, secular reason, and civic virtue. Like “I, Claudius,” her novel reads as a kind of anti-epic.
Modern mainstream scholarship tends to see the French Revolution as a watershed in human rights, state secularization, and the decline of authoritarian rule in Europe. Here are its notable accomplishments:
• Abolished feudalism and seigneurial privileges.
• Proclaimed universal (male) citizenship and popular sovereignty.
• Issued the Declaration of the Rights of Man and of the Citizen (1789).
• Established secular governance and sharply reduced the power of the Catholic Church.
• Legalized divorce and instituted civil marriage.
I'd strongly disagree with your interpretation that Mantel's characters are portrayed entirely negatively. They are neither heroes nor villains, but human – serious, cynical, sincere, funny, brave and cowardly. I think that's why we get so attached to them, even when they do ghastly things.
Mantel is quite clear that her aim is not to show the French Revolution as BAD or GOOD, but to focus on what it must have felt like for those caught up in it. Politically, of course Mantel recognised the progressive impact of the French Revolution on society and political culture, especially in the long term. But that's not what APOGS is about.
And it is important not to confuse the role of the historian and the historical novelist. Where there is no evidence but only rumour and slander, the historian has to say exactly that. The historical novelist does something entirely different: she scrutinises the blank and asks a series of "what if" questions – thought experiments, if you like.
Which brings us to our old friend, Philippe. Of course, Mantel's work is limited by the scholarship of the time. But she's also asking what happened off the record, what happened unseen, what happened in Philippe's heart. The cards fall in such a way as to make history look very favourably on him, but as Mantel writes, "history is not the past". It seems eminently plausible that this prince of the blood would entertain the idea of himself as an enlightened monarch – especially in that brief space where republican ideas were fairly niche. And there would certainly be people around him encouraging that idea.
The same goes for Danton. No evidence of bribes. Well done Danton! Just a lot of rumour and sniping from his enemies. Marvellous! The historian must stop there. The historical novelist tiptoes artfully into the dark, an enigmatic smile on her lips, whispering, "ah, but what if..."
Simon, I generally agree with your take here. I’m not so much criticizing Mantel’s craftsmanship as I am reflecting on the kind of novel A Place of Greater Safety is. To me, it’s a very different project than her Wolf Hall trilogy—almost a different species of historical fiction.
There’s a wide spectrum when it comes to historical novels. My personal taste runs less toward the People Magazine version of the genre and more toward books that wrestle with big ideas and dramatize pivotal events that shaped the modern world—especially when they give voice to those history treated unfairly. Mantel’s Tudor Trilogy does that. So do Gore Vidal’s Julian, Burr, and Lincoln, Jonathan Littell’s The Kindly Ones, and John Williams’ Augustus, William Vollman’s Europe Central to name a few.
Of course I understand the difference between history and historical fiction. Part of the genre’s power lies in exploring what we can’t know—imagining the gaps. Take Camille and Robespierre, for example: we know they were childhood friends, and that there was deep mutual affection. But how much did Robespierre influence Camille’s late writings, which contributed to the arrests of fellow revolutionaries—men Camille later mourned? That ambiguity is ripe for a novelist. There’s pathos and tragic shape there, and I admire Mantel’s willingness to enter that emotional territory.
Still, I think a historical novelist owes something to the dead—those who can no longer speak for themselves. The French Revolution, for all its enduring achievements, veered into tragedy with the Reign of Terror. And some of its early champions became its victims. I count Louis Philippe II, Duke of Orléans—Philippe Égalité—among them. Others include Brissot, Madame Roland, Condorcet, Hérault de Séchelles, and Olympe de Gouges. (Tom Paine was a hero, too, though he barely escaped with his life.)
Despite my defense of Danton here, I wouldn’t count him—or the other two main protagonists of A Place of Greater Safety—among the true heroes of the Revolution. The ones I do count haven’t gotten their due. Why not?
Partly because we’re all drawn to the blood, betrayal, and spectacle of the Revolution—those stories are irresistible. But also, I think, because the martyrs I admire aren’t always comfortable figures for later generations on the political left, who tend to see the Revolution as a proto-socialist uprising and are most invested in promoting its importance (like the writers for Jacobin magazine). The men and women I call heroes believed in private property, capitalism, free speech, due process, and books. Their ideals were liberal in the classical sense, and I think that makes them harder to celebrate in the prevailing narratives.
So when I see poetic license used to flatten these figures—to reduce them to base motives or banal human weaknesses—I feel compelled to speak up. It’s not that I expect hagiography. But I do believe in honoring complexity—especially when the stakes were life, death, and the shape of the modern world.
That's ok. I think we disagree on this book being a different species to the Wolf Hall books. I see them very much in the same vein. Brissot gets flattened in the same way More gets flattened, because Mantel is showing us the world through the eyes of the Mountain. She could have written an entirely different book from his perspective. So I see this book as very much within the spectrum of writers and books you cite, even if you don't recognise its place there!
But that's the beauty of reading, we all make different interpretations and come to different conclusions. It would be dull otherwise!
It would also be dull if we did not get to hear these other perspectives. One of the surprising parts of your two slow reads (W&P and this), Simon, is how much I enjoy and learn from the other readers. John @johnneeleman739757 , I especially appreciate all the historical facts regarding the Duke, that you brought to light. I am poor in history.
I went down a short (should that be shallow?) rabbit hole on Mantel’s use of the idiom “reculer pour mieux sauter” in the conversation between Annette and Gabrielle. It struck me as a funny little moment, that French phrase, since it reminded me that these people are actually speaking French all the time, I am just experiencing it in English. A fun little meta moment of reader awareness that I think Mantel likes to provoke (see also when she addresses the reader directly as “you”).
I enjoyed (maybe "enjoyed" isn't quite the right word) the section on the development of the guillotine. Constant process improvement; fractional gains in time and efficiency; suspicions among the workforce that the new technology will steal their jobs; the boss being against it and then perhaps not so much when he needs to make a few...um...cuts. Sounds familiar.
I think my favourite passage this time (this week’s grim smile) was Lucille’s comment when Louise Théroigne wondered how Camille gets away with stuff (and don’t we all wonder?): “It’s a mystery. I suppose—you know how in families there’s usually one child who gets away with more than the others? Well, perhaps it’s like that in revolutions as well.” I think we all know what she means.
Yes! Camille "getting away with stuff" feels like the little inch of safety where we all stand in this book. He and we feel always seconds away from disaster. One of my favourite lines from Camille this week: "Max, you're almost in a worse state than I am. If I am disseminating panic, you are communicating disaster." Oh, Camille.
Lots of great Camille moments this week! I chuckled at his resolution to "get home to Lucile and after this be very very careful and very very good." Good luck, bud! I think you'll need it.
A minor thing to note but I loved how Mantel named her characters in the conversation between the Duke and de Sillery - at first mention they are the Duke of Orleans and the Comte de Genlis. Then, the Comte becomes de Sillery, and the Duke, Philippe. By the end of the exchange, de Sillery is Charles-Alexis, and they both seem thoroughly undressed and undone by their now-precarious ambitions to power. I don't presume to know the mind of Mantel, but the effects of all these little choices are pretty palpable!
That's just brilliant.
Every word seems so carefully chosen and calculated. I feel totally overwhelmed imagining how she did this! The scale of it, and it being her first book… *faints*
I'm getting into this book more and more. Two excellent chapters this week and there are lots of little bits of humour. Camille's cousin will always be called Camille's cousin.
In your footnotes you ask about the chapter title and what the three blades are but the title comes from the estimate of the cost of creating the Guillotine machine. In the list we are told To three blades (two in reserve) 600 lives. The three blades are all for killing. Two in reserve in case the first one breaks during testing or while dealing out death. Horrifyingly reserves are needed in case the blade becomes blunt and fails to do its job.
It's a sobering thought.
Ah well spotted!
Please tell me I'm not the only one who -- when it came to the part about the men from Marseille and their new anthem -- did not immediately think of that wonderful scene in Casablanca, where the crowd at Rick's Cafe start singing it and drown out the Nazis singing their own patriotic song.
Oh brilliant. If there is a clip on YouTube I'll insert that one into the post for the shere joy of it.
Can I also recommend a similar scene in Jean Renoir’s La Grande Illusion, set in a WW1 prisoner of war camp, which presumably influenced the Casablanca scene?
Jean Renoir also made a movie about the early years of the revolution, centered on that very band of volunteers who marched from Marseille to Paris in 1792. It is called, naturally, "La Marseillaise", and both that song and "Ca Ira" are prominently featured.
Of course!
I found a link that works I hope: https://youtu.be/t73D2FAFjr8?si=kpN0SA2eCxALQoyg They’ve been putting on a cabaret - hence the British officer in a dress and wig!
And then there was the crowd of football fans who, while being evacuated from the stadium on the night of the Bataclan attacks, calmly walked through the tunnel singing the Marseillaise. I found it very odd and moving that this bloodthirsty song could work as such an anthem of unity and resilience.
And fellow W&Pers, let‘s not forget how the Marseillaise thrillingly takes over at the end of Schumann‘s „The Grenadiers“.
Re: Casablanca and La Marseillaise, coincidentally, a blogger I follow included this article among some links... it's 10 years old, but its a fabulous & thorough analysis of "that" scene. Someone in the comments mentions the Renoir film that Judith mentions below too!
https://seveninchesofyourtime.com/cinemas-greatest-scene-casablanca-and-la-marseillaise/
At this point, I'm getting strong 'life goes on' vibes - yes, the revolution continues, but real life (in all it's messiness) also continues. Gabrielle has her baby, Camille has woman trouble and Lucile deals with tricky women (and has her baby).
It comes as no surprise to the reader - this reader, anyway - that things are more than a bot chaotic. There are so many factions and factions-within-factions that it's amazing that anybody git anything done.
I'm now wondering whether, had Louis been smarter, he might have played one faction off against another and kept his head. But Louis does seem badly advised.
The cast of thousands is still defeating me at times,but I'm not sure that matters too much. If you're not quite sure who supports whom, that may be a pretty accurate picture of the time.
The guillotine is seen as being humane, but I can't help wondering whether that humanity - and efficiency - contributed to the high number of deaths. Had death been messier and violent, could the crowd have been sickened by it or would it pander to their blood lust?
And I think you're right about the guillotine. Sounds like our man Charles-Henri Sanson probably agrees. It's a bit too easy to remove heads these days. *Checks own head, still on, phew.*
I read something that suggested the execution of the nuns from Compiegne may have been a turning point - and hastened Robespierre's downfall. (I'm not sure that's the consensus, by the way.)
Maybe it does take something as significant as that - and even a ‘clinical’ execution can't hide the horror of that.
Or maybe it's just a footnote.
While we won't survive long enough to see their execution or Robespierre's fall, we do get to see the revulsion and reaction to the executions. In fact, our attempts to stop the killing are a major part of this story. But I've said too much, and we're getting ahead of ourselves.
We don't get to see Robespierre's downfall!!! No!!!!!!
We won't be alive to see it. Sucks to be us. Sorry! The narrative takes us up to April 1794.
It’s amazing how Hillary’s writing reads like a little screenplay for each section. I can envision the setting and the characters talking together on stage.
Mantel loved the theatre. And of course, turned the trilogy into plays. I wish someone would make a play of APOGS. Possibly with the help of Lin-Manuel Miranda.
Well, he has already covered Lafayette - so, why not?
I was getting strong Hamilton vibes when Dumouriez agreed that peace would be a disaster because war would benefit his career: "Wonderful opportunity for all sorts of things."
My sense is that Louis wasn't just badly advised: he was not cut out for the job; indecisive, wanted to do the right thing, but not always sure what to do. Unlike Charles I, he did seem open to the idea of a constitutional monarchy. But you're right, he needed to be smarter, more decisive. There was an opportunity in 1790. But, hey, it's 1792 now, and that door's shut.
What struck me most in this section was how Danton, Robespierre, and Camille operate in public with a loyalty that feels increasingly hollow in private—like they’re orbiting the same revolution but under different gravitational pulls. The tension between admiration, necessity, and underlying contempt is so finely drawn here. Also found the framing of Madame Roland and Anne Théroigne powerful—how both are punished in opposite ways for inhabiting public space as women. This period always feels eerily modern, and Mantel makes that discomfort hard to look away from.
Across these two chapters the motif and potential analogy of childbirth loomed large for me, both with Gabrielle and Lucille's experiences and the descriptions afforded to them. Its inevitability (Louise's bluntness on this!) and danger (Annette's fear for Lucille) and intensity (Lucille's "purity of love" that leaves her nearly speechless) and fragility (Camille holding his son, "the fragile scrap of being"). Yes, a reminder that life continues and these revolutionary leaders were married to the normalcies of life; but also, I think, a reminder of just how human the desire for and pursuit of revolution is.
The other thing that stood out to me was the notion from Vergniaud that he was his "own man" and Danton's scoffing condescension in response: "But you will find it does not work out like that." The wondering I have: how self-aware is Danton as he says this?
(Oh, and "knitted God" was a mic-drop moment in this reading, too. Marvelous!)
I liked the echo too, a page or so later where Lucile tells Camille that he doesn't need Robespierre & Danton to stay on good terms because he has a mind of his own, and he also replies "Yes, but you will find it doesn't work out like that."
Camille continues to be fascinating to me—I feel like if Camille was removed from this story, you lose so many of the contradictions and nuances of what is happening... (Therefore: very glad he's there!)
He very much holds the story together.
Happy Bastille Day to those who celebrate! 🙄
Haha over here in APOGS land we celebrate 10 August. More fools us.
I usually observe July 14th as the late great Harry Dean Stanton’s birthday - how’s that for the most tenuous of tangents!
Haha love it.
He'll be 100 next year - or would've been. I had the hare-brained idea to try to watch all his films before then, but there are so many I became overwhelmed before I even began! Could this be my reminder to revisit the project?!
He’s still alive! Wow. I’m afraid I’m out of my depth here and don’t know anything about his films. But you should absolutely do this.
Oh no sorry to mislead, he died a few years ago. His centenary seems worth celebrating though, to me at least!
Forgive me if I’ve missed something, but are we not going to discuss the attempted seduction of Camille? I love Camille, but how it made me laugh to watch him squirm with discomfort.
We can discuss it right there! 😅 My footnotes can never be comprehensive – there are always too many rabbit holes and too little time.
I love the switch up in dialogue style - it’s all a theatre and all are actors on a big world stage. My fav passage, though, is in the dining scene with Danton present, at the Roland’s’: “He was possessed by a temptation to lean over a stick a fork in him to see if he would scream, but he resisted it, and dragged his eyes glumly to his plate. There was a nameless soup, at one both watery and floury; there was a meager portion of a tough fowl, and some turnips which, though small, were past their first youth.” The coiled energy of people around food is just unreal to me. Only Mantel - and to think of all the Wolf hall food passages…. Exquisite details and meaning….
I didn't find myself pulled in as strongly as usual by the Three Blades chapter, perhaps because Mantel has to devote a lot of time to explaining the people & events of the Brissotin Ministry - although I did love the king’s weary attempt to solve the mystery of Robespierre: "You see, if only I knew what the man wanted. Perhaps I could give it him, and that would be an end of it." I also appreciated how both Danton & Robespierre know Camille too well to rise to his provocations: "I mean that you sound like a fifteen-year-old and what you are trying to do is pick a fight, so why don't you go home for a few days and quarrel with your father?" & "I can't argue with you this morning. I have to conserve my strength for important things."
I was much happier when we reached the chorus of women’s voices in The Tactics of a Bull, especially the way that the king’s actions & subsequent suffering is reported by pious, conventional Gabrielle, who tries to believe that her husband and his friend cannot have blood on their hands because their faces seem kind and familiar.
I also loved some of the women's dry observations about our "heroes":
Gabrielle: "They have a way of turning calamities to their own account."
Lucile: "I suppose - you know how in families there's usually one child who gets away with more than the others? Well, perhaps it's like that in revolutions as well."
& Annette: "It's remarkable, really, how many quite ordinary things Camille can't or won't come to terms with."
Ah I've just realised I forgot to flag the obvious echo:
Louis asks Dumouriez where Robespierre comes from. D says Artois. Henry VIII will ask the same question of Cromwell in The Mirror and the Light. Putney. But yes, in a deeper sense... Where do you come from?
Came across this interview with a French MP, and author of histories of the Revolution/ biographies of revolutionary figures (the books are in French). It's an interesting perspective on both Danton and Robespierre.
https://jacobin.com/2023/07/french-revolution-bastille-day-robespierre-danton-history
(And I want to learn more about Belley...
Thanks so much for sharing this article! So interesting to think about the historiography of the French Revolution, and the ideological purposes it has been put to in the centuries since.
For my part, being admittedly ignorant of the details of this period before this readalong, I have been a little surprised to find that the perception of these characters - both in some of the comments here and on the Revolutions podcast - is that they are largely villainous. Obviously they’re complicated and have intentions that run the gamut from pure and good to corrupt and self serving, so I don’t think it helps to swing entirely the other way and declare them unimpeachable heroes. Do we expect sweeping social change to be made by nice people with no personal ambition, though? Seems naive. Mantel certainly seems to relish their complexity.
This comment from the above interview stood out to me: “This is connected to a certain ideological offensive we see today, which seeks to turn the French Revolution into a moment of darkness and confusion, one according to which nothing is worth remembering about it except the Terror. It wants to tell us that even if revolutions begin with admirable ideals, they always end badly. This is what many cultural endeavors are telling us today.”
It does seem to serve a particular purpose to paint the Revolution in this light. Although of course the interviewee has his own purpose for rehabilitating Robespierre as a hero of the people (I’m probably just more sympathetic to that angle, myself!). Ahh, history! It’s complicated.
Thanks again for sharing this article - it has thoroughly distracted me from work this morning! Disappointed to report that this guy’s books don’t seem to be translated into English. I’d be interested to read Jacobins! if it were available.
Oh and yes agree that Belley sounds like a fascinating figure!
Yes, Mantel certainly relishes the complexity and ambiguity! These people are neither heroes nor villains, or perhaps both depending on the time of day. That's the great advantage of novels isn't it, and why I think we get so attached to Camille, Max and Danton.
I'll admit I'm a bit reticent about politicians and political theorists rehabilitating the Jacobins. Their critics have reason to talk up their crimes, but it would be very dangerous to lionise these revolutionaries, or see them as a model for either revolution or government in our own times. These men believed in armed insurrection and perpetrated state terror. History has many far more worthy role-models for a revolutionary politics in the twenty-first century. So yeah, the Jacobins magazine makes me a bit queasy!
What is great about APOGS is we are not asked to condemn or condone these characters. Mantel isn't saying, what awful people and what an awful revolution. She's asking, what must it have been like to be caught up in those events. So we feel both excitement and terror, hope and dread.
I suspect we all take something different away from the book, in terms of lessons learned – Mantel talks about this in her Author's Note at the beginning. But we all feel like we've lived through the events of 1789–1794, in all its messy reality.
Well put Simon - the question of what must it have been like to be caught up in those events is very present for me as a reader. Mantel makes these characters and their moment feel so immediate and vivid, and I am loving being able to peer into their psyches as all these events unfold. Personally I am not interested in whether characters likable to me (the scourge of modern book reviews), I want all that depth and mess and dimension! Not a unique point of view, I’m sure fellow readers here agree.
Setting aside the question of role models for our times (I agree we don’t need more armed insurrections), do we think France could have created a republic by nonviolent means, in that particular historical moment? Acknowledging that obviously there’s a spectrum with nonviolence on one end and 17000 executions on the other. I’m not sure I expect anyone to answer that, it’s not knowable - and for my own part I definitely lack the knowledge to be able to speculate on other possible futures. Others’ thoughts welcome, though!
On a lighter note, Simon, if you dislike Jacobin magazine you will absolutely loathe the regrettable corner of the internet I recently discovered - I’m calling it horny Jacobin tumblr? I couldn’t bear to read any of the fan fiction down that hole but it’s there if anyone cares to look for it 😆
Haha, I think I may have stumbled across horny Jacobin tumblr already (great name btw). Oddly, I mind that less than the politicos, it feels more creative and harmless. Perhaps it's because I sometimes have a bit of a crush on Camille and Lucile. But oh my!!
Yeah, who knows about how the French Revolution could have played out. There were more moderate, less violent people caught up in events (including I think Brissot, who gets minced by what is to come). But it was a paranoid period of history, and the revolutionaries turned on each other, killing each other for not being pure enough. I'm afraid we see that sort of holier-than-thou in-fighting on the Left today, although thankfully without quite so much bloodshed!
I understand why radical politics wants to reclaim the slur of "Jacobin" (a lot of non-Jacobins have been called Jacobins throughout history). But if anything, APOGS makes me more sympathetic towards the Girondists, and maybe I'd have more time for a magazine called The Brissotins!
Brissot is an interesting one. So far I have not found him impressive, but I should remember I am seeing him through his adversaries' eyes. His quick and dirty war with Austria hasn't really delivered the triumph he promised, though (that's coming from the podcast ep for this week, not so much the novel - I'm curious to see how Mantel treats the war, given her penchant for letting massive events unfold off-stage). I haven't really got my head around the Girondists, more reading required for me there. Perhaps now I'll have to go down a rabbit hole of alternative endings and their would-be players!
Definitely agree about today's leftish in-fighting. The quest for purity of thought and deed is so self-defeating, in their times and ours. I guess I'll take a twitter pile-on over a beheading, but it'd be nice if we could skip both options and get on with, say, creating a more equitable society? One that allows for many different points of view, even? If only!
Oh, and a crush on Camille and Lucile seems completely reasonable to me! Camille does have a touch the romantic lead's je ne sais quoi (the floppy hair, probably). I am currently beholden to two geriatric cats so I have no vacancy, but I did think if I ever have cats again in the future, Camille and Lolotte would be quite good names for a feline pair. Camille could be Coucou for short (yes clearly I have thought too much about this)!
Amazing. I can see Camille and Lolette already, preening and casting their dagger eyes at the mog across the road.
I don't really know what much more about Brissot and the Girondists, but you're right we get a very partial view of them here from the perspective of their adversaries. The war plan is stupid, not to say amoral, but then so is Robespierre's idea that it is a conspiracy to destroy the revolution. But Manon Roland impresses me (in this book anyway), with her distrust of Danton and his thuggery.
I think as Mike Duncan says on the podcast, the revolution polarises people into two camps. Those who fear mob rule and those who fear aristocratic counter-revolution. The truth is both fears are justified, but there's no one holding that middle ground.
Ya- I really enjoyed reading such a different perspective, & one that I certainly have a sympathy with. I’m doing the Wolf Hall trilogy slow read, too- very interesting to observe my own reactions to historical fiction set in a time/place I know well (Tudor England) vs one I have only the most basic familiarity with ( Revolutionary France). Lots of rabbit holes to go down.
Once again we see the every day human stories of those involved in the revolution. This week I appreciated the female perspectives again, particularly Lucille managing the last few days of pregnancy, the labour, then the feelings she had for her baby. Given all she went through with endometriosis and not being able to have children of her own, Mantel did not shy away from portraying these events with accuracy and feeling. I also appreciated the comic moments, her writing is true art.
I have to say, I just don’t recognize Mantel’s version of Louis Philippe II, Duke of Orléans. The idea that he was secretly angling for the throne doesn’t hold up—not if you look at his actual behavior. And he wasn’t nearly as silly or unserious as he comes across in the novel. In fact, his actions tell a very different story. If anything, he consistently made choices that hurt his own standing as a royal and aligned him—at real personal risk—with the Revolution.
He publicly renounced his noble title. He adopted the name Philippe Égalité in 1792, symbolically rejecting royal status and aligning himself with republican ideals.
He voted for the execution of Louis XVI. His vote directly eliminated any prospect of a constitutional monarchy in which he might have ruled. It also severed his ties with royalists.
He never organized or led a political faction. He made no attempt to build a personal power base, party, or movement to claim authority or replace the king.
He never courted foreign support. No documentary evidence shows he sought British or other foreign backing to seize power—contrary to persistent monarchist rumors.
He voluntarily opened the Palais-Royal to the public. He created a revolutionary free-speech zone, empowering radical discourse—not consolidating personal control or propaganda.
He provided early financial and logistical support to the Revolution. Funded radical journals, deputies, and public gatherings—not dynastic efforts.
He joined the Third Estate in at the Estates General in 1789. He broke with the Second Estate and aligned himself with popular sovereignty at a critical moment.
He volunteered his sons (and himself) for military service in the Revolutionary Army. This was a risky, egalitarian move inconsistent with monarchic ambition.
He did not resist arrest or attempt to save himself. He submitted passively during the Reign of Terror, even as he faced execution—behavior inconsistent with someone secretly seeking power.
No credible contemporary evidence supports claims of ambition. Allegations of conspiracy were made only by political enemies (royalists and Jacobins) and never substantiated with direct proof.
In general, Mantel portrays the Revolution’s protagonists as hypocrites or poseurs. Robespierre is tortured and neurotic; Danton is venal; Camille is a narcissistic tragedian. What they are not—at least in the novel—is morally serious revolutionaries.
I wonder if this is a particular English perspective. Her tone aligns with a long English literary tradition of viewing the Revolution with irony, moral ambivalence, or outright disdain. Carlyle accurately recounts and brilliantly dramatizes but emphasizes chaos, hypocrisy, and guillotine horror over ideological transformation. Edmund Burke condemned the Revolution as a moral apocalypse. Even Dickens in “A Tale of Two Cities” offers sympathy but ultimately centers British restraint over French excess.
It reminds me of Robert Graves’ “I, Claudius,” where Augustus’s reign ends up looking like nothing but sex, poison, and family drama. But this was the moment Rome became an empire and laid the groundwork for Europe. Obviously, he was doing more than just surviving dinner parties.
Mantel portrays Danton as largely driven by greed and self-interest. But did he actually take bribes? That accusation has long haunted his reputation and diminished his place as a revolutionary martyr. His most recent biographer, David Lawday, strongly disputes the charge. In a (largely negative) review of Lawday’s book in the London Review of Books, Mantel dismissed his defense of Danton as overly generous or even naïve—but she also acknowledges a key fact: there is no direct evidence that Danton ever accepted a bribe. https://www.lrb.co.uk/the-paper/v31/n15/hilary-mantel/he-roared.
The case against Danton has always been circumstantial and politically charged. Here are points in his favor:
No documented proof of bribery: No financial records, personal correspondence, or credible witness testimony links Danton to illicit gains.
He lived well, but not extravagantly: His lifestyle was comfortable but not inconsistent with his legal income, especially as a successful lawyer before the Revolution.
Association with corrupt figures isn’t guilt: Danton’s ally Fabre d’Églantine was guilty of embezzlement, but no evidence ties Danton directly to his schemes.
The charges came from political rivals: Robespierre and Saint-Just accused Danton of corruption in 1794—during a power struggle at the height of the Terror.
He was denied a fair trial: At his prosecution, Danton was barred from speaking in his defense, and the Convention suspended normal procedures—suggesting fear of his persuasiveness, not confidence in his guilt.
Many who knew Danton—like Camille—defended his integrity.
While Mantel is brilliant in rendering interior lives, she doesn’t grapple seriously with the Revolution’s ideals—its commitment to universality, equality, secular reason, and civic virtue. Like “I, Claudius,” her novel reads as a kind of anti-epic.
Modern mainstream scholarship tends to see the French Revolution as a watershed in human rights, state secularization, and the decline of authoritarian rule in Europe. Here are its notable accomplishments:
• Abolished feudalism and seigneurial privileges.
• Proclaimed universal (male) citizenship and popular sovereignty.
• Issued the Declaration of the Rights of Man and of the Citizen (1789).
• Established secular governance and sharply reduced the power of the Catholic Church.
• Legalized divorce and instituted civil marriage.
• Introduced equal inheritance laws, ending primogeniture.
• Standardized weights and measures with the metric system.
• Reorganized France administratively into departments, communes, and prefectures.
• Created a secular legal code and reformed judicial procedure with jury trials.
• Abolished slavery in French colonies (1794, briefly reversed by Napoleon, then reinstated later).
• Spread revolutionary and nationalist ideals across Europe, leading to the eventual downfall of the Holy Roman Empire.
• Inspired future democratic movements and constitutional revolutions worldwide.
I'd strongly disagree with your interpretation that Mantel's characters are portrayed entirely negatively. They are neither heroes nor villains, but human – serious, cynical, sincere, funny, brave and cowardly. I think that's why we get so attached to them, even when they do ghastly things.
Mantel is quite clear that her aim is not to show the French Revolution as BAD or GOOD, but to focus on what it must have felt like for those caught up in it. Politically, of course Mantel recognised the progressive impact of the French Revolution on society and political culture, especially in the long term. But that's not what APOGS is about.
And it is important not to confuse the role of the historian and the historical novelist. Where there is no evidence but only rumour and slander, the historian has to say exactly that. The historical novelist does something entirely different: she scrutinises the blank and asks a series of "what if" questions – thought experiments, if you like.
Which brings us to our old friend, Philippe. Of course, Mantel's work is limited by the scholarship of the time. But she's also asking what happened off the record, what happened unseen, what happened in Philippe's heart. The cards fall in such a way as to make history look very favourably on him, but as Mantel writes, "history is not the past". It seems eminently plausible that this prince of the blood would entertain the idea of himself as an enlightened monarch – especially in that brief space where republican ideas were fairly niche. And there would certainly be people around him encouraging that idea.
The same goes for Danton. No evidence of bribes. Well done Danton! Just a lot of rumour and sniping from his enemies. Marvellous! The historian must stop there. The historical novelist tiptoes artfully into the dark, an enigmatic smile on her lips, whispering, "ah, but what if..."
Simon, I generally agree with your take here. I’m not so much criticizing Mantel’s craftsmanship as I am reflecting on the kind of novel A Place of Greater Safety is. To me, it’s a very different project than her Wolf Hall trilogy—almost a different species of historical fiction.
There’s a wide spectrum when it comes to historical novels. My personal taste runs less toward the People Magazine version of the genre and more toward books that wrestle with big ideas and dramatize pivotal events that shaped the modern world—especially when they give voice to those history treated unfairly. Mantel’s Tudor Trilogy does that. So do Gore Vidal’s Julian, Burr, and Lincoln, Jonathan Littell’s The Kindly Ones, and John Williams’ Augustus, William Vollman’s Europe Central to name a few.
Of course I understand the difference between history and historical fiction. Part of the genre’s power lies in exploring what we can’t know—imagining the gaps. Take Camille and Robespierre, for example: we know they were childhood friends, and that there was deep mutual affection. But how much did Robespierre influence Camille’s late writings, which contributed to the arrests of fellow revolutionaries—men Camille later mourned? That ambiguity is ripe for a novelist. There’s pathos and tragic shape there, and I admire Mantel’s willingness to enter that emotional territory.
Still, I think a historical novelist owes something to the dead—those who can no longer speak for themselves. The French Revolution, for all its enduring achievements, veered into tragedy with the Reign of Terror. And some of its early champions became its victims. I count Louis Philippe II, Duke of Orléans—Philippe Égalité—among them. Others include Brissot, Madame Roland, Condorcet, Hérault de Séchelles, and Olympe de Gouges. (Tom Paine was a hero, too, though he barely escaped with his life.)
Despite my defense of Danton here, I wouldn’t count him—or the other two main protagonists of A Place of Greater Safety—among the true heroes of the Revolution. The ones I do count haven’t gotten their due. Why not?
Partly because we’re all drawn to the blood, betrayal, and spectacle of the Revolution—those stories are irresistible. But also, I think, because the martyrs I admire aren’t always comfortable figures for later generations on the political left, who tend to see the Revolution as a proto-socialist uprising and are most invested in promoting its importance (like the writers for Jacobin magazine). The men and women I call heroes believed in private property, capitalism, free speech, due process, and books. Their ideals were liberal in the classical sense, and I think that makes them harder to celebrate in the prevailing narratives.
So when I see poetic license used to flatten these figures—to reduce them to base motives or banal human weaknesses—I feel compelled to speak up. It’s not that I expect hagiography. But I do believe in honoring complexity—especially when the stakes were life, death, and the shape of the modern world.
That's ok. I think we disagree on this book being a different species to the Wolf Hall books. I see them very much in the same vein. Brissot gets flattened in the same way More gets flattened, because Mantel is showing us the world through the eyes of the Mountain. She could have written an entirely different book from his perspective. So I see this book as very much within the spectrum of writers and books you cite, even if you don't recognise its place there!
But that's the beauty of reading, we all make different interpretations and come to different conclusions. It would be dull otherwise!
It would also be dull if we did not get to hear these other perspectives. One of the surprising parts of your two slow reads (W&P and this), Simon, is how much I enjoy and learn from the other readers. John @johnneeleman739757 , I especially appreciate all the historical facts regarding the Duke, that you brought to light. I am poor in history.
I went down a short (should that be shallow?) rabbit hole on Mantel’s use of the idiom “reculer pour mieux sauter” in the conversation between Annette and Gabrielle. It struck me as a funny little moment, that French phrase, since it reminded me that these people are actually speaking French all the time, I am just experiencing it in English. A fun little meta moment of reader awareness that I think Mantel likes to provoke (see also when she addresses the reader directly as “you”).
As I understand it, it makes sense to include this idiom in French just purely on the level of meaning though too, since it is an expression in French that perhaps doesn’t have such a pithy equivalent in English? Miriam Webster gives the general gist (https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/reculer%20pour%20mieux%20sauter#:~:text=French%20phrase,to%20make%20a%20strategic%20withdrawal) but I thought this Reddit thread discussing actual usage was quite interesting and certainly applicable to Gabrielle’s situation: https://www.reddit.com/r/French/comments/1yjupo/reculer_pour_mieux_sauter/. “Lose the battle to win the war” and “accept the inevitable” both seem relevant.
Interested to hear any French speakers’ insights on this one!
I enjoyed (maybe "enjoyed" isn't quite the right word) the section on the development of the guillotine. Constant process improvement; fractional gains in time and efficiency; suspicions among the workforce that the new technology will steal their jobs; the boss being against it and then perhaps not so much when he needs to make a few...um...cuts. Sounds familiar.
Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose!
What struck me this week was Simon’s commentary about the guillotine:
“”Commoners suffered the noose or worse. Between now and July 1794, about 17,000 people will be guillotined.
France abolished the death penalty in 1981. In 1977, Hamida Djandoubi was the last person to be executed by guillotine in France.”
I was astounded by the 17,000 number AND by the fact that as recently as 1977, a man was guillotined in France.
We’re on the precipice here, aren’t we….