The Mirror & the Light

I absolutely loved Wolf Hall and Bring Up The Bodies, so my excitement for The Mirror & The Light was on par with many of yours. I ordered the 4th Estate hardback, got the Kindle edition and Audible audiobook as soon as they became available, and got going.

I'm putting this on hold for the time being. I'm almost 200 pages in, and it's been quite a slog. The first two books had such fervent momentum going on that I'm finding it quite difficult to get this one going.

I'm rereading Proust's In Search of Lost Time, and loving every page of it (halfway through the second volume after starting the first one in late February), which offers an interesting counterpoint to my experiences so far with this book. I'll return to this later, maybe in the summer.

Afsluiting van een briljante trilogie. Ben benieuwd of deze ook op de short-list voor de Booker Prize gaat komen :-)

“Forty-five years on earth, twenty-seven of them as King of England - and all he has to show for it are three bastard children, one of them now a corpse.”

Uiteindelijk iets minder dan de voorgaande delen, mogelijk doordat het eerste stuk allemaal wat langzaam gaat (maar misschien slechts wat moeite er in te komen, het is meer een winterboek dan een zomerboek). Richting het onvermijdelijke einde wordt het steeds beter, met een paar prachtige hoofdstukken vlak voor “fysieke” einde van Cromwell.

“Gregory says, ‘My lord father, who will you let the king marry next?'“

Uiteraard veel aandacht voor al het gekonkel om Henry aan de juiste vrouw te helpen zodat er eens een legitieme troonsopvolger komt. Maar ook daarbuiten genoeg gekonkel.

“He goes home and tells Gregory, ‘I have found you a bride.'. ‘Very well,' Gregory says. ‘I shall contain myself in patience till you mention who.'

Thus ends the Shakespearean tragedy of Cromwell, the brilliant man hoist on his own Machiavellian petard. Unlike the first two novels, The Mirror and the Light shows us the Cromwell that history remembers: ruthless, violent, all-powerful, and, ultimately, undone by vindictive enemies and a paranoid king.

Mantel's achievement here (and across the trilogy) is monumental if for no other reason than she makes the reader sympathize with Cromwell. This is, of course, narrative sleight of hand as her limited third-person perspective is really just first-person in disguise: we only get to see and hear what Cromwell sees and hears, and we only get to understand events through his understanding of them. And while we know what is ultimately going to happen, we are still surprised when, seemingly out of the blue not long after being made Earl of Essex and Lord Chamberlain, Cromwell finds himself in the Tower on charges of treason and heresy.

Mantel plants the seeds early. In the moments after Anne Boleyn's execution at the beginning of the novel, Wriothesley, loyalties divided, tells Cromwell,

“People have been talking of the cardinal. They say, look at what Cromwell has wreaked, in two years, on Wolsey’s enemies. Thomas More is dead. Anne the queen is dead. They look at those who slighted him, in his lifetime – Brereton, Norris – though Norris was not the worst . . . They ask," Wriothesley says, “who was the greatest of the cardinal’s enemies? They answer, the king. So, they ask – when chance serves, what revenge will Thomas Cromwell seek on his sovereign, his prince?”

The answer comes during his interrogation:

“Let me remind you,” Riche says. “At the church of St Peter le Poor, near your own gate at Austin Friars, on or around …” Riche has lost the date, but no matter, “… you were heard to pronounce certain treasonable words: that you would maintain your own opinion in religion, that you would never allow the king to return to Rome, and – these are the words alleged – if he would turn, yet I would not turn; and I would take the field against him, my sword in my hand. And you accompanied these words with certain belligerent gestures – . . . You also stated,” Riche says, “that you would bring new doctrine into England, and that – and here I quote your own words – If I live one year or two, it shall not lie in the king’s power to resist.”

The cards thus stacked against him - by none less than Richard Riche, whose perjured testimony cost Thomas More his head - Cromwell understands that he has lost. But it's not due to any trumped-up charges of treason - no, he gets that all the crazy talk of aspiring to be king by marrying Mary, of sorcery, of conspiracy with the Emperor, and seeking to raise a "pauper army" is all just a smokescreen for the king's true grievance:

“The king hates a man who breaks his word. You said you would kill Reginald Pole.”

“Not a drop of his blood is shed,” Gardiner observes.

He thinks, now we come to it. This is why Henry faults me. And so he should. This is where I have failed.

This is life in Henry's capricious court. Henry, assessing Cromwell's almost superhuman accomplishments, finds him lacking because he failed to kill the pretender. Norfolk, resentful that a commoner should be ennobled, and Gardiner, vengeful at being replaced as Master Secretary and shipped off to France, conspired to light the fuse.

Mantel gives full rein to her imagination in this novel, the longest of the three (in fact, almost as long as the other two combined). Cromwell is given to increasing flights of memory of his childhood and his years of apprenticeship in Italy. He continues to be haunted by Wolsey, tormented by More and guilt ridden over his mysterious daughter, Jenneke. Her canvas is huge - the economics of the dissolution of the monasteries, the diplomatic intricacies of the marriage to Anne of Cleves, the religious crisis over the Pilgrimage of Grace - and reveals her thorough research and deep understanding of the period. Clearly she had great passion for the story, and saw in Cromwell some kind of archetype of hero/villains throughout modern history: his own great nephew Oliver Cromwell; Maximillian Robespierre; Otto von Bismarck; Vladimir Lenin; J. Edgar Hoover; Richard Nixon. Men who rose to great heights; who sought to reshape the world in their own image; who ultimately destroyed themselves.

Are we to draw lessons from Cromwell's story about the dangers of pride and self aggrandizement? If history is truly written by the victors, has his story been accurately told? Is Cromwell Macbeth or Lear? These are tough questions and I think Hilary Mantel wants us to see, in the mirror and the light, something of our own place and time. Mantel's Cromwell, really, is a projection of our own worst instincts and the embodiment of modern homo politicus; and perhaps what she wants us to understand that there will always be a Cromwell, the one with the dirty fingernails and bloody knife; the one who takes care of the jobs no one else can stomach; the one we ultimately can't keep around because he reminds us too much of our own base nature. Cromwell, hero or villain, is not so much a man as a matter of perspective.

This was an excellent finish to a complete masterpiece of a series. These books will stay with me. I feel grief that they've finished!

“This is what life does for you in the end; it arranges a fight you can't win.”

Anne Boleyn, Catherine Howard, Anne of Cleves. Three women that amply demonstrate the saturnine, obsessive and fickle nature of Henry VIII. However, in my opinion, it is the tragic figure of Thomas Cromwell that sheds light to the vast extent of the monarch's madness and cruel, evil character. The man who shaped his ideal to restore England's glory, the mentor, the one who managed to provide Henry with his so precious annulment. The one who looked upon the king and only saw the young boy who once was under his protection.

I don't think there is much to say about the trilogy that was handed over to us by Hilary Mantel. The third instalment concludes the tragic story of Cromwell, narrating the final four years of his life until his execution in 1540 in startling vividness and glorious characterization. Mantel gave life to one of the most controversial and fascinating political figures in British History and created a monumental work in World Literature.

Following Wolf Hall and Bring Up the Bodies, The Mirror and the Light is mandatory reading for the lovers of true Literature.

“What is a woman's life? Do not think, because she is not a man, she does not fight. The bedchamber is her tilting ground, where she shows her colours, and her theatre of war is the sealed room where she gives birth. She knows she may not come alive out of that bloody chamber. Before her lying-in, if she is prudent, she settles her affairs. If she dies, she will be lamented and forgotten. If the child dies, she will be blamed. If she lives, she must hide her wounds. Her injuries are secret, and her sisters talk about them behind the hand. It is Eve's sin, the long continuing punishment it incurred, that tears at her from the inside and shreds her. Whereas we bless an old soldier and give him alms, pitying his blind or limbless state, we do not make heroes of women mangled in the struggle to give birth. If she seems so injured that she can have no more children, we commiserate with her husband.”

My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/

Yes it is long, Yes she could have probably split it with “Bring Up” but it makes temporal sense why she did not do so but these books are seminal if you enjoy Historical Fiction and they deserve full attention. I am also glad I re-read the previous two for the best effect.

Genius.

Wonderfully written.

Does the third installment of Hilary Mantel's Thomas Cromwell trilogy have the astonishing first-person intimacy of Wolf Hall or the taut dramatic blocking of Bring Up the Bodies? No – but, then, it shouldn't. The Mirror & the Light begins with Thomas Cromwell near the peak of his powers, in the latter years of his life, and the growing despotic decadence of King Henry VIII's rule. This man has seen and done some shit, and it shows. Mantel's non-fiction (see: Giving Up the Ghost or Mantel Pieces) reveal her to be uncommonly obsessed with ghosts. This is just another way of saying that she understands the inescapable presentness of history, the elliptical nature of human memory, the way that some of our most important relationships we must negotiate are with people and things and places fixed in the past. Mirror is the fullest exploration of these themes in her fiction, a true masterpiece in her oeuvre.

I read this book less carefully than the other two in the trilogy, a little more distractedly (pandemic reading), so I don't have substantive comments. I'm sad that Hilary Mantel is done writing this trilogy and that I am done reading it.