I’m postponing reading the final volume of Hilary Mantel’s Cromwell trilogy (spoiler alert: the end is very final). To help me wait, I’ve started a Tudor trilogy from a century ago, written when its author still went by his given name of Ford Madox Hueffner. He renamed himself Ford at the same time, and for the same reason, the royals became the Windsors.
Ford is primarily remembered for the novels The Good Soldier and Parade’s End, but before turning to contemporary themes, he tried his hand at historical novels. It’s interesting to compare this book with those of Mantel. One difference is the language. Ford employs more archaic vocabulary. Can you define “hypocras,” “venery,” and “leman” without looking them up? Mantel, on the other hand, evokes the Tudor era more by feel than by word choice.
A more important difference is in the recreation of the central character of each. For many readers, Mantel's Thomas Cromwell was surprisingly sympathetic. He is usually presented as a vain, power-mad villain. Her Cromwell can be ruthless but is a rounded character. The historian Diarmaid MacCulloch acknowledges that Mantel’s depiction of Cromwell corresponds closely to the sense he gets of the man when he investigates the historical sources.
Ford’s Katherine Howard, on the other hand, differs from the Catherine Howard of historians. Ford’s Katherine is headstrong, forthright, justifiably proud of her attainments in classical learning. Combined with her beauty—tall, erect, fair—this makes her the desire of many men. Yet each of these men, in their thirst for power gained at each others’ expense, seeks to use her to achieve his own ends. The only thing that saves her—for now—is that each is fully aware that King Henry, recently disappointed when wife number four arrived at court, is among those sensitive to her charms.
It isn’t only the knowledge of the historical Catherine’s fate that gives me a sense of foreboding as I read. Beyond all the traits Ford has assigned his Katherine, two stand out: She is profoundly good, and she is utterly guileless. To be good and simple in this world, let alone in the hotbed of intrigue that is the court of Henry VIII in his declining years, is a recipe for disaster. That seems to be Ford’s point.
And Cromwell? He is a looming presence in this book. He occasionally steps onto the stage, but more often, his presence is felt indirectly, in the words and actions of those who fear him yet do his bidding and those who hate him and plot his downfall (there is some overlap among them). At first, it seemed as if Ford was subscribing to the usual, pre-Mantel picture of the man. Yet there is a scene in which the opportunist Throckmorton, sniffing the wind so that he can abandon Cromwell for another protector neither a moment too soon nor a moment too late, explains to Katherine (who implacably hates Cromwell though barely knowing him) why Cromwell has been useful to the king and therefore good for England. An assessment that doesn’t clash with Mantel’s. ( )

Even though Ford's version of Catherine bears no relation to the historical version, he tells a very plausible story. To me the real character of the story lies in the royal court itself. Dark, ominous, threatening. Full of deceits and treachery, subject to the variable whim of an absolute monarch. It reminds me of the 'court' of Stalin, and just about as dangerous. ( )

I did enjoy the book, and it left me wanting more! Ford takes an interesting view of the fifth queen... who some have labeled a mere "juvenile delinquent". In Ford's book, she is intelligent, devout, and self- confident... all which will prove her undoing! ( )