Hilary Mantel: 'Wolf Hall' & 'Bring Up The Bodies'

It intrigues me how often connected themes influences or memories coincide at certain times.  Currently, I seem unable to escape from 15th and 16th Century history for several reasons.  I’ve already referred repeatedly to the Archaeological project currently focussed on Greyfriars Friary and Richard III in Leicester.  By coincidence, that commenced just as I finished reading Hilary Mantel’s entertaining Tudor novels ‘Wolf Hall’ [1.] and ‘Bring Up The Bodies’. [2.]

Both books focus on the figure of Thomas Cromwell and his role in the lurid soap opera of Henry VIII’s first three marriages and, more generally, the establishment of the English Reformation.  Whilst this takes us a few decades on from the events of Bosworth Field and Richard III’s defeat, there’s a clear connection between the questionable claim to power of the victorious Henry Tudor (Henry VII) and his son’s desperate attempts to secure a male heir and thus cement both dynasty and continuing national stability.  The resulting upheavals  laid the foundations for  many of the features of the British state that we still take for granted.

Unknown Artist, 'Portrait Of Anne Boleyn', 16th Century

Hilary & Thomas

When ‘Wolf Hall’ won the Man Booker Prize for Fiction in 2009 it seemed that the historical novel had come of age and finally gained a degree of critical respect.  This, I imagine, is due to the overall quality of Mantel’s writing and the richness of her descriptive detail and depth of characterisation in particular.  Her research appears meticulous and she finds new mileage in a familiar story by viewing it through the eyes of Cromwell the ambitious commoner and Machiavellian fixer.  Mantel's dual achievement  is give a credible, seemingly authentic account of events and socio-political context whilst populating it with psychologically convincing characters.

Hans Holbein The Younger, 'Portrait Of Thomas Cromwell',
Oil On Panel, 1533

This all reminded me of an exhibition of Holbein’s portrait drawings of the Tudor court I saw at the Buckingham Palace Gallery many years ago whilst studying A-Level History.  It was part of a field trip and Holbein’s beautiful, precise drawings provided a terrific window into the lives of the calculating gangsters, religious maniacs and manipulated/manipulating women from our textbooks.  To come full circle, I recall that trip also included a visit to Bosworth Field where we witnessed an eccentric two-man re enactment of the battle by galloping History teachers.

Hans Holbein The Younger, 'Drawing Of Unknown Woman',
 Chalk & Ink, 16th Century

Hans Holbein The Younger, 'Drawing Of Jane
Seymore', Chalk & Ink, 1536/37 

Hans Holbein The Younger, 'Portrait of Sir Thomas
Boleyn', Watercolour & Ink, 16th Century

Hans Holbein The Younger, 'Drawing Of Sir Thomas Wyatt,
Chalk & Ink c1535-37

The next element in this series of connected influences is the radio adaptation of C.J. Sansom’s historical novel ‘Dissolution’ [3.] currently being serialised on BBC Radio 4 Extra.  Sansom’s tale sits within the familiar sub-genre of the historical whodunit and displays superficial similarities to Umberto Eco’s ‘The Name of The Rose’. [4.]  Its context is the Cromwell-directed dissolution of the monasteries and he gives a much darker impression of Henry’s chief minister.  Sansom's Cromwell is directly implicated in brutal methods treated far more ambiguously by Mantel.  In reality, there’s precious little hard information about Thomas Cromwell the man but it’s yet another reminder, were it needed, of just how much the actions, motivations and public image of historical figures are subject to subsequent reinterpretation.  

Of course, the practice and priorities of a novelist are rather different from those of a historian or indeed a mediaeval archaeologist.  I suspect many academics in either field might regard the work of Mantel and/or Sansom as, at best, a superficial entertainment and, at worst, a detrimental obfuscation of evidence-based study.  However, this post is about connections and also how, for a lay person, the two worlds can feed into each other.  I  distinctly remember being given some extra reading by another History teacher prior to studying for O Levels.  One of those books was Josephine Tey’s novel, ‘The Daughter In Time’ [5.], - a fiction in which a contemporary detective attempts to discover whether Richard III really murdered his nephews in the Tower.  He concludes that Richard was framed and has received a bum rap ever since.  It fired both my imagination and a desire to continue studying History.

That brings this post full circle to Richard yet again.  It also demonstrates how historical fiction can be a gateway drug to the harder stuff and how, 36 years later, you can find yourself peering into a trench, wondering if his actual bones are still down there.

[1.]:  Hilary Mantel, 'Wolf Hall', London, Fourth Estate, 2009

[2.]:  Hilary Mantel, 'Bring Up The Bodies', London, Fourth Estate, 2012

[3.]:  C. J. Sansom, 'Dissolution', London, Macmilan, 2003

[4.]:  Umberto Eco, 'The Name Of The Rose', San Diego, Harcourt, 1983

[5.]:  Josephine Tey, 'The Daughter Of Time', London, Peter Davis, 1951