'Lady Margery’s glance stabs the old dames. None of them have kept their looks as she has, nor have their girls become queen. She makes a deep, straight-backed curtsey to her daughter, then rises with an audible snap of knee-joints. The poet Skelton once compared her to a primrose. But now she is sixty.'
Additional: The orange coat is a like a thread stitching 1536 back to 1527… I was struck this week by how this chapter manages to be both joyful and fretful, layered with hope and melancholy, life and death.
'The steel is cold and his fingers numb; when I am cold, I shall slide off this wedding ring. He walks towards, always towards the king, his naked hands held out, no weapon.'
When I first read this my focus was on the lack of weapon: he approaches the king without his knife – it would not protect him, quite the reverse. Then I realised he's talking about his wedding ring, and I am wondering what that means – apart from the fact that he is both dead and alive in this moment (are we in the present or in the future?)
And then I am thinking of the other two rings he owns: the turquoise from the cardinal with its mysterious powers. And the ruby, given to him by the King of France, and given again to him by Henry, who told him it was a token of his loyalty: another ring of protection.
These three rings are weapons. In what sense?
And then I am thinking again of those naked hands, held out towards his king.
I am also struck by the echo with George Rochford who wears a wedding ring to the gallows and afterwards this is the distinguishing feature of his headless body. When Cromwell visits George at the Tower, George tells Cromwell that he's given his rings into safekeeping but he holds up his hand to show that he still wears his wedding ring. 'But my wedding ring, I can't...' he says.
Cromwell then thinks: 'It will come off later, when your hands are cold.'
Very strong parallel with the words you quote: 'when I am cold, I shall slide off this wedding ring.' Portentous.
Maybe there is something resigned in this. Cromwell knows the only way out of his relationship with Henry and his relationship with the past is death, so he shoulders this knowledge and pushes on.
On ladders: 'As a boy he was always climbing about on somebody's roof, often without their knowledge. Show him a ladder and he was up it, seeking a longer view. But when he got up there, what could he see? Only Putney.'
I enjoyed your commentary more, if anything, than I did this week’s read, which is saying a great deal. The jokes mingling with the blood. Terrific stuff.
My favourite passage this time is the one about Henry’s council and the councillors, how they behave differently when he, Henry, is not in the room, for Henry does not like his councillors to be in agreement with each other… They understand their rôle: “It is his councillors, as mean a crew as ever walked, who carry his sins for him: who agree to be worse people, so that Henry can be better.” The rhythm is so fine, and the politics, and the psychology, are so good.
And I hope never to forget the phrase “as mean a crew as ever walked”.
That line caught my attention too - about Henry's councillors carrying his sins for him, agreeing to be worse so he can be better. Certainly that seems to be Cromwell's quintessential role. He does the dirty work; orchestrates the break with Rome, deals with Thomas More, gets rid of Henry's unwanted wives, cajoles Princess Mary, nudges, bribes, negotiates and orchestrates. He sins so that Henry can be pure. I think that's a central reason he is so valued - no one else has Cromwell's ability to do the unsightly nasty things that need doing, and to do them well.
We're going through a heat wave here in Italy. We walk from shadow to shadow, hiding from an enraged, pounding sun. The sky is so bright you can't look at it directly, you find yourself praying for a drop or rain or a brave little cloud shielding us from this immense, unrelenting mirror. I'm looking with horror at Cromwell as he climbs up and up like the proverbial Icarus, people around him are notcing the wax melting from his back and begging him to come down among us mortals. He wants to reach the sun and punch him, defeat him. He wants to be loved by him. To glory in that reflected light. To be one with him. He knows he's about to burn, he can already smell the nauseating melting flesh. He cannot stop. No other mere mortal has ever climbed so high.
I feel in these chapters the weight of what has happened and the inevitability of what is to come. This to me is the slow climb before the final drop of the roller coaster. Crumb is increasingly weighed down by memory and by the constant effort of plotting and playing the political game and we feel it too, sitting on his shoulder.
"You will see Henry, profound in deception, take an ambassador’s arm and charm him. Lying gives him a deep and subtle pleasure, so deep and subtle he does not know he is lying; he thinks he is the most truthful of princes." This is such profound truth and so beautifully put. To a certain degree, this must be true of us all. What a gift Hilary Mantel had. We are so fortunate to share in it!
Thank you as always for the wonderful essay and links.
I’m always amazed at the things that jump out at me…this week cats with nine lives and our man on his seventh, so I I must now look out for the rest. Then there’s the lover’s knot. Plus all the mirrors and lights to keep a watch on.
This book just didn’t work for me four years ago but now it’s definitely giving up its secrets.
That's fabulous. I think The Mirror and the Light is especially suits to a slow read. Like Henry's lies, it is so 'deep and subtle' that you can race through it and miss its beauty. We're going to have a great time reading it again.
Christophe's quip - "With this king one needs a reversible garment. One never knows, is it dying or dancing" - made me laugh out loud. Too true. And I was so glad when we entered Thurston's realm again. Maybe we'll see another post from Andrea soon.
I'm getting a gangster vibe based on Cromwell's loyalty to Wyatt. Cromwell views Wyatt as a "civilian," rather than a "player" vying for power like almost all the rest. There are a few civilians in the book, but not many. Christophe is one. Certainly Cromwell's wife and daughters were civilians.
Someone has probably brought up this poem already, but when you mentioned Liz's embroidery of a deer running through foliage, I couldn't help but think of this poem by Thomas Wyatt, Whoso List to Hunt, I Know Where Is a Hind. Here's a link to the text at the Poetry Foundation: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/45593/whoso-list-to-hunt-i-know-where-is-an-hind
There's something else: I swear Dr Elizabeth Norton told us at the Wolf Hall Weekend that Jane Seymour was working on a similar cushion when she died. I can't find anything but I have recorded the audio and will go back over it. Too much of a coincidence I feel!
I noticed the nine lives allusion this time round, it seems so obvious in hindsight! I have a theory, or and idea rather: if life 7 is Baron Cromwell, and life 8 is what happens next in the book (I don't want to spoiler anything) then perhaps life 9 is Crumb's afterlife - his historical legacy, how everyone who learns any Tudor history knows his name. Maybe life 9 is us, reading this story, keeping Crumb alive.
One thing that caught my attention this week was that there seemed to be more mention of smells than I'd noticed before. Around Jane Seymour's attendants "the scent of lavender ripples into air like bubbles of laughter". In Cromwell's private chamber, "the air is sharply scented: juniper, cinnamon". Cristophe burns a perfume pan of sweet herbs and frankincense to ward off contagion. And in Cromwell's memory of his visit to the condemned George Boleyn, the pisspot in the corner might make your nostrils twitch. This feels like a good thing for the reader - a moment of respite, time to pause and take in the details after the roller coaster ride of the last book.
Things seem to be looking good for (Lord) Cromwell, too. "When the Cromwells stroll out this week, the gentlemen of England get out of their way." But Chapuys sums up the precarity of his position: "Your whole life depends on the next beat of Henry’s heart, and your future on his smile or frown." This was another section that made me want to keep reading, as so many alliances, threats, and plans are mentioned; so many pieces laid out on the board for us to watch how the game unfolds.
I enjoyed particularly this week the remembering of Call-me’s assertion regarding Anne and how she would be remembered “Poor woman, I doubt she will be known at all” - turns out he was quite wrong in that prediction 😂
God, I love Margery Seymour:
'Lady Margery’s glance stabs the old dames. None of them have kept their looks as she has, nor have their girls become queen. She makes a deep, straight-backed curtsey to her daughter, then rises with an audible snap of knee-joints. The poet Skelton once compared her to a primrose. But now she is sixty.'
Additional: The orange coat is a like a thread stitching 1536 back to 1527… I was struck this week by how this chapter manages to be both joyful and fretful, layered with hope and melancholy, life and death.
Realisation:
'The steel is cold and his fingers numb; when I am cold, I shall slide off this wedding ring. He walks towards, always towards the king, his naked hands held out, no weapon.'
When I first read this my focus was on the lack of weapon: he approaches the king without his knife – it would not protect him, quite the reverse. Then I realised he's talking about his wedding ring, and I am wondering what that means – apart from the fact that he is both dead and alive in this moment (are we in the present or in the future?)
And then I am thinking of the other two rings he owns: the turquoise from the cardinal with its mysterious powers. And the ruby, given to him by the King of France, and given again to him by Henry, who told him it was a token of his loyalty: another ring of protection.
These three rings are weapons. In what sense?
And then I am thinking again of those naked hands, held out towards his king.
I am also struck by the echo with George Rochford who wears a wedding ring to the gallows and afterwards this is the distinguishing feature of his headless body. When Cromwell visits George at the Tower, George tells Cromwell that he's given his rings into safekeeping but he holds up his hand to show that he still wears his wedding ring. 'But my wedding ring, I can't...' he says.
Cromwell then thinks: 'It will come off later, when your hands are cold.'
Very strong parallel with the words you quote: 'when I am cold, I shall slide off this wedding ring.' Portentous.
Maybe there is something resigned in this. Cromwell knows the only way out of his relationship with Henry and his relationship with the past is death, so he shoulders this knowledge and pushes on.
On ladders: 'As a boy he was always climbing about on somebody's roof, often without their knowledge. Show him a ladder and he was up it, seeking a longer view. But when he got up there, what could he see? Only Putney.'
I enjoyed your commentary more, if anything, than I did this week’s read, which is saying a great deal. The jokes mingling with the blood. Terrific stuff.
My favourite passage this time is the one about Henry’s council and the councillors, how they behave differently when he, Henry, is not in the room, for Henry does not like his councillors to be in agreement with each other… They understand their rôle: “It is his councillors, as mean a crew as ever walked, who carry his sins for him: who agree to be worse people, so that Henry can be better.” The rhythm is so fine, and the politics, and the psychology, are so good.
And I hope never to forget the phrase “as mean a crew as ever walked”.
That line caught my attention too - about Henry's councillors carrying his sins for him, agreeing to be worse so he can be better. Certainly that seems to be Cromwell's quintessential role. He does the dirty work; orchestrates the break with Rome, deals with Thomas More, gets rid of Henry's unwanted wives, cajoles Princess Mary, nudges, bribes, negotiates and orchestrates. He sins so that Henry can be pure. I think that's a central reason he is so valued - no one else has Cromwell's ability to do the unsightly nasty things that need doing, and to do them well.
Exactly this! They allow Henry to maintain the lie that he is pure and free from blame - the central lie that gives him pleasure
Thank you Susan, that phrase slipped by me this week so I am grateful for you bringing it back in so I need not forget it.
We're going through a heat wave here in Italy. We walk from shadow to shadow, hiding from an enraged, pounding sun. The sky is so bright you can't look at it directly, you find yourself praying for a drop or rain or a brave little cloud shielding us from this immense, unrelenting mirror. I'm looking with horror at Cromwell as he climbs up and up like the proverbial Icarus, people around him are notcing the wax melting from his back and begging him to come down among us mortals. He wants to reach the sun and punch him, defeat him. He wants to be loved by him. To glory in that reflected light. To be one with him. He knows he's about to burn, he can already smell the nauseating melting flesh. He cannot stop. No other mere mortal has ever climbed so high.
Suddenly I'm feeling less sure about eeking this out over the next few months! Stay cool, Ellie.
I feel in these chapters the weight of what has happened and the inevitability of what is to come. This to me is the slow climb before the final drop of the roller coaster. Crumb is increasingly weighed down by memory and by the constant effort of plotting and playing the political game and we feel it too, sitting on his shoulder.
"Treason is only a crime in those who owe loyalty." What a line from Chapuys! I feel like that line alone could spawn a whole story.
"You will see Henry, profound in deception, take an ambassador’s arm and charm him. Lying gives him a deep and subtle pleasure, so deep and subtle he does not know he is lying; he thinks he is the most truthful of princes." This is such profound truth and so beautifully put. To a certain degree, this must be true of us all. What a gift Hilary Mantel had. We are so fortunate to share in it!
The ability to dissemble is important for any successful politician. Even better if you have a crew of 'fall guys' ready to take the blame.
Thank you as always for the wonderful essay and links.
I’m always amazed at the things that jump out at me…this week cats with nine lives and our man on his seventh, so I I must now look out for the rest. Then there’s the lover’s knot. Plus all the mirrors and lights to keep a watch on.
This book just didn’t work for me four years ago but now it’s definitely giving up its secrets.
That's fabulous. I think The Mirror and the Light is especially suits to a slow read. Like Henry's lies, it is so 'deep and subtle' that you can race through it and miss its beauty. We're going to have a great time reading it again.
Christophe's quip - "With this king one needs a reversible garment. One never knows, is it dying or dancing" - made me laugh out loud. Too true. And I was so glad when we entered Thurston's realm again. Maybe we'll see another post from Andrea soon.
Andrea promises me she is skinning and saucing the eels as we speak.
Exceptional essay, Simon.
I'm getting a gangster vibe based on Cromwell's loyalty to Wyatt. Cromwell views Wyatt as a "civilian," rather than a "player" vying for power like almost all the rest. There are a few civilians in the book, but not many. Christophe is one. Certainly Cromwell's wife and daughters were civilians.
Someone has probably brought up this poem already, but when you mentioned Liz's embroidery of a deer running through foliage, I couldn't help but think of this poem by Thomas Wyatt, Whoso List to Hunt, I Know Where Is a Hind. Here's a link to the text at the Poetry Foundation: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/45593/whoso-list-to-hunt-i-know-where-is-an-hind
There's something else: I swear Dr Elizabeth Norton told us at the Wolf Hall Weekend that Jane Seymour was working on a similar cushion when she died. I can't find anything but I have recorded the audio and will go back over it. Too much of a coincidence I feel!
I noticed the nine lives allusion this time round, it seems so obvious in hindsight! I have a theory, or and idea rather: if life 7 is Baron Cromwell, and life 8 is what happens next in the book (I don't want to spoiler anything) then perhaps life 9 is Crumb's afterlife - his historical legacy, how everyone who learns any Tudor history knows his name. Maybe life 9 is us, reading this story, keeping Crumb alive.
But then I am hopelessly romantic so...
I may have shared this before, but I'll do it again- the Young 'Uns singing John Ball: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0clMlnU4gyQ
One thing that caught my attention this week was that there seemed to be more mention of smells than I'd noticed before. Around Jane Seymour's attendants "the scent of lavender ripples into air like bubbles of laughter". In Cromwell's private chamber, "the air is sharply scented: juniper, cinnamon". Cristophe burns a perfume pan of sweet herbs and frankincense to ward off contagion. And in Cromwell's memory of his visit to the condemned George Boleyn, the pisspot in the corner might make your nostrils twitch. This feels like a good thing for the reader - a moment of respite, time to pause and take in the details after the roller coaster ride of the last book.
Things seem to be looking good for (Lord) Cromwell, too. "When the Cromwells stroll out this week, the gentlemen of England get out of their way." But Chapuys sums up the precarity of his position: "Your whole life depends on the next beat of Henry’s heart, and your future on his smile or frown." This was another section that made me want to keep reading, as so many alliances, threats, and plans are mentioned; so many pieces laid out on the board for us to watch how the game unfolds.
Yes I could really smell this world this week! Especially Cromwell's private chambers!
I enjoyed particularly this week the remembering of Call-me’s assertion regarding Anne and how she would be remembered “Poor woman, I doubt she will be known at all” - turns out he was quite wrong in that prediction 😂