“George Boleyn is well past thirty, but he still has the sheen we admire in the young, the sparkle and the clear gaze. It is hard to associate his pleasant person with the kind of bestial appetite of which his wife accuses him, and for a moment [Cromwell] looks at George and wonders if he can be guilty of any offences, except a certain pride and elation. With the graces of his person and mind, he could have floated and hovered above the court and its sordid machinations, a man of refinement moving in his own sphere: commissioning translations of the ancient poets, and causing them to be published in exquisite editions. He could have ridden pretty white horses that curvet and bow in front of ladies. Unfortunately, he liked to quarrel and brag, intrigue and snub. As we find him now, in his light circular room in the Martin Tower, we find him pacing, hungry for conflict, we ask ourselves, does he know why he is here? Or is that surprise still to come?” — Bring Up the Bodies, Hilary Mantel Hardback edition, p. 333 And now Cromwell is calmly carrying out his own finest “sordid machination”: ridding the king of Anne Boleyn once and for all; rounding up the handful of men believed to have made a cuckold of Henry with her and locking them in the tower for interrogation. And, my word, Mantel is really trying my affection for her “Master Secretary”.
Posted on: Sat, 15 Jun 2013 22:29:08 +0000
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