Wolf Hall’ Recap: Thomas More Follows His Principles Straight to the Torture Chamber
That scene of torture — the opening tableau of Episode 3 — gives us the clearest possible sense of where Hilary Mantel stands in the ongoing debate over Thomas More’s character.
In her rendering More is not a saint but a fanatic, enslaved by an idea, and in defense of an idea, human beings are ultimately expendable. When asked to justify strapping the Tyndale follower James Bainham (Jonathan Aris) to the rack, More answers that, to save the man’s soul, “I would have had him whipped, I would have had him burned with irons, I would have had him hung by his wrists.”
God, in short, justifies all means. But which god? The god of More? The god of Tyndale? Or the god of the Turks, invading infidels who are knocking on the gates of Vienna and causing Western Europe to quake (not for the last time) at the thought of Islamic aggression?
Image may be NSFW.
Clik here to view.Bainham may recant his beliefs under torture, but he reclaims them in dramatic fashion by publicly reading from an English-language Bible. “I couldn’t live with what I’d done,” he tells Cromwell (Mark Rylance). And here at last is a believer that “Wolf Hall” can live with — a man who sacrifices only himself.
Even as his funeral pyre is being prepared, Bainham groans, “I cannot unbelieve what I believe.”
Contrast that with the steely pragmatism of Anne Boleyn (Claire Foy), who believes people should say “whatever will keep them alive.” Or Cromwell himself, who may sympathize with the Protestant reformers, but is frankly impatient with their methods — and incredulous that Tyndale won’t take the expedient tactic of supporting Henry’s divorce.
You’d think he’d bend a point of principle to make a friend of the King of England,” says Cromwell. “But no. Tyndale and More, they deserve each other, these mules who pose as men.”
In Cromwell’s eyes, purity is no virtue, and flexibility no flaw. If anything, elastic principles are the best and truest response to human complexity. Oh, sure, he might “serve the Sultan if the price was right” (More’s phrase ) but, having made that choice, he would serve his prince all the more effectively for knowing how the world works.
That’s how he can see through the “prophetess” Elizabeth Barton (Aimée Ffion-Edwards) to the network of corrupt priests and political players behind her. And when Harry Percy (Harry Lloyd) has the temerity to lay a pre-existing marital claim on Anne, Cromwell doesn’t “beat his skull in,” as Anne’s uncle, the Duke of Norfolk (Bernard Hill), advises. He merely sets the young man straight with this minor masterpiece of Realpolitik:
“The world is not run from where you think it is. From border fortresses, even from Whitehall. The world is run from Antwerp, from Florence, from Lisbon. From wherever the merchant ships set sail off into the west. Not from castle walls but from counting houses. From the pens that scrape out your promissory notes.
“So believe me when I say that my banker friends and I will rip your life apart. And then when you are without money and title, yes, I can picture you. Living in a hovel, wearing homespun, bringing home a rabbit for the pot. Your lawful wife Anne Boleyn skinning and jointing that rabbit. Yes, I wish you all happiness.”
And just in case Harry needs another nudge: “I will come and drag you out of whatever hole you’re cowering in, and the Duke of Norfolk will bite your bollocks off. I do hope that’s clear, my lord.”
It is indeed clear. And what better way to seal off the threat than with that ironic and deeply unfelt “my lord”? Times have changed, and the “son of an honest blacksmith,” to use Henry’s romanticized phrase, is now giving marching orders to landed gentry. Cromwell, says Queen Katherine (Joanne Whalley), “used to be a moneylender. Now he writes all the rules.”
But he can do that only so long as the King allows it. Herewith the cost of putting your faith in men: They turn on you. One man in particular. “Everything that you are,” crows Henry (Damian Lewis), in an unconscious echo of Wolsey’s words, “everything that you have will come from me.”
Image may be NSFW.
Clik here to view.As if to dramatize the peril of that position, Anna Regina, in the course of being crowned, prostrates herself on the cathedral floor, with her neck exposed and her arms outstretched — a Christ-like pose that uncannily prefigures her ultimate end. In this moment, she has achieved all she ever wanted, and she has never been more vulnerable — to fate, to genes, to a monarch’s whims. With a chill, we recall Henry’s romantic conceit: “I hunt only one hind.” He has captured her now, and his mercy is all she has to depend upon.
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