Historical fictions such as Philippa Gregory’s The Other Boleyn Girl are wildly popular for their escapist qualities. They transport the reader on a thrilling adventure into the past where one can leave the trappings of everyday modern life behind and experience the foreign lifestyles of people long ago. But is the culture of the 16th century English court really so different from culture in the 21st? While there is much to be learned about the society of nobility from Gregory’s descriptions , her depiction and interpretation of the Tudor period also has much to reveal about our own. By examining the relationships, social position, and lifestyle of Gregory’s principal character, Mary Tudor, and the figures surrounding her, one finds oneself simultaneously diverted by the alien aspects of her world and moved by the recognizably universal truths of humanity with which we are familiar.
The politically charged atmosphere of Henry VIII’s court defines an individual by their status in royal favour. A nobleman’s career cyclically depends on his ability to gain favour with the king, who rewards him with titles or land. The greater the titles and lands that he possesses, the more power and opportunity the nobleman has to maintain or increase his influence.
The relationships between the Boleyn children and their family in Gregory’s novel reflect the way a courtier’s title and influence is tied to his or her family name. In the 21st century, the spheres of professional and domestic life are normally clearly separated, but in the Tudor world, where the consequences of political failure are drastically more dire, maintaining the favour of the king is often a matter of life and death. Each member acts as a representative of the family name, and so the family unit functions like a business, with everyone working together for the common end of self-preservation and status advancement. This necessity for status in the social hierarchy leads to the obsessive ambition of the Boleyn family, who find the integration of political and family interest to have devastating consequences on their personal attachments.
Each new generation has the potential to advance the family either as office-holders or stepping-stones through marriage. In the Boleyn family, the offspring’s value as commodities overshadow their familial role as objects of affection, a condition epitomized during the argument following Anne’s betrothal to Henry Percy, in which Anne’s mother tells her, “I would rather see you dead at my feet than dishonored...You make yourself hateful to us all.” (Gregory 141).
Today, a marriage contract is a decision reached by two individuals out of mutual affection for the purpose of ensuring the happiness of both parties. The difference between modern and 16th century marriage is bluntly put by Mary’s brother George, “We had our minds on targets other than her happiness.” (Gregory, 513) A marriage in the Tudor period is arranged by the guardians of both parties to secure an alliance meant to benefit the entire family economically, socially, and politically, if possible. Individuals are so subject to their superiors in this choice, that the traditional rights due to a married couple can be set aside by those in power, as is the case with Mary Tudor and William Carey (Gregory 28), or the existence of a disapproved marriage denied altogether, as with Anne and Henry Percy (Gregory 154).
In this way, the practical associations that come with marriage among Tudor nobility are very separate from personal, romantic love. Powerful men keep mistresses for their pleasure and comfort; mistresses of the king are even rewarded with status as “the most important [women] in the world, second only to the queen” (Gregory 83). The importance of clearly defined successions means that sexual behaviour among courtiers is closely regulated, and virginity and sexuality is very much a public affair, as Anne tells Mary, “You’d better get used to talking about it. [Sex] is not a private matter” (Gregory 84). Men, too, feel the restraints of society on their romantic and sexual lives; George is reprimanded by Anne and told to keep his feelings and actions in check, for homosexuality, as she tells him, is “a cardinal sin” and a hanging offense (Gregory 188, 648). “True love has no place at court,” says George (Gregory 436).
Gender is a dominant theme in The Other Boleyn Girl. Females have no position in Tudor England as anything other than objects to be used by males for the advancement of their families. A woman does not own property, nor does she make her own life choices (Gregory 68). Mary’s mother teaches her that “[there] is no freedom for women in this world, fight or not as you like” (Gregory 145). Women are valued only for their sexuality: as marriage partners for the forging of alliances, as lures for the attentions of influential men, and as mothers to give birth to the next family line. Men among the nobility are not entirely free, either. They are the owners of property and the decision-makers, however, each one is a slave to the societal rules that restrict him in his given position. Each man is subject to the man who outranks him. George, the male of the Boleyn offspring, has dreams of being a soldier in the Crusades, but as the heir to the Boleyn titles, he is given no choice but to aid his family in their ambitions and play the role of “pander in the royal harem” (Gregory 496). George challenges Queen Anne’s domineering attitude towards her siblings, telling her, “We’re family...You can’t treat us like subjects.” “You are subjects,” she coldly replies (Gregory 383). She is right.
The concept of parenthood differs greatly between Tudor courtiers and 21st century parents. Today, direct participation in the child’s life and upbringing shows love and appropriate levels of concern. Among the Tudor gentry and nobility, to keep at child at home is considered selfish. If a parent truly loves and wants the best for their child, society expects them to send the child away to be educated and to gain worldly experience. Mary’s mother does not regret the separation that prevented her from developing a close relationship with her daughter. “I could not have found you a better place than the royal court of France,” she says. “I would have been a poor mother if I had kept you at home” (Gregory 202).
The social hierarchy of the royal court is clearly defined, and the status of an individual is visually present in virtually every aspect of life, and is very much expressed in the material culture. The food eaten, the food served, the clothes worn, and the location of one’s home all reflect the wealth and privilege of that person. This is not so different society today, in which wealth, more so than political influence, serves as a major marker of social status with regards to clothing, real estate, education, and modes of transportation.
16th century society looks up to the royal courtiers for gossip and fashion in much the same way as movie stars and other celebrities are looked up to today. Popular courtiers set fashion trends, which can be seen in the “crisis of headgear” brought about during Queen Anne’s decline (Gregory 605). As the chaste Jane Seymour rises in favour over the “French-influenced” Anne, women choose to wear either Jane’s gable hood or Anne’s half-moon headdress, depending on which woman they believe has higher status.
Gift-giving is a popular method of representing status and favour in the royal court. While modern gift-exchange is usually the result of particular affection or a marker of a special occasion, gifts among courtiers has strong political significance. Firstly, a material gift from a social superior empowers the receiver with public acknowledgement of favour. King Henry rewards his mistresses with gowns, jewellery, horses, and special privileges, while those connected to them receive manors and titles (Gregory 111, 536). The giver is also empowered by the exchange. King Henry names one of his ships after the Boleyns, bestowing on them an honour so great that he can now consider them in his debt (Gregory 116). Sometimes special gifts are given as incentives for even greater gifts to be given in return, as with the chalice prepared for Mary to give to Henry. Anne says, “It’s worth a fortune. I only hope we see some return on it” (Gregory 94). One’s reaction to a gift, aside from the giving itself, could also have political and social significance. Jane Seymour executes a particularly dramatic move in denying the king’s gift of a “huge purse of gold” (Gregory 605). Her refusal acts as a demonstration of her virtue. Messages and symbols are also shared in the form of material gifts: men give women differently coloured jewels to compliment their virtues, Anne gives Henry a jewel carved with a “storm-tossed maiden” as a metaphor for her feelings, and then a fountain wrought with “fertile women gushing water” to remind him of her ability to bear him children (Gregory, 492). Women give jousters tokens of their favour to wear during tournaments, and betrothal rings are shared as symbols of commitment and love. The culture of modern gift exchange has retained much of the implications it had for Henry’s courtiers, though it has shifted to primarily social, over political, significance.
“I’m a Howard girl, a Boleyn girl,” Mary Tudor tells herself on page 12. “[That’s] not a small thing to be.” The pervasive consciousness and implications of class and rank mean that a courtier’s self-perception is directly tied to their social status, and identity is synonymous with family name. Following the directions of their guardians, the girls succeed (temporarily) to advance their family by obtaining the interest of the king. Consequently, they struggle with the approval that comes with serving the family well and the morality of their actions, which would condemn them as whores (Gregory 158). Mary does not consider herself an individually valued member of her family, but a “pawn that must be played to advantage” (Gregory 28). Like ants, the Boleyn girls are taught to see themselves not as individuals with personal wants or desires, but representatives working for the bigger and greater benefit of the family. “I am happy for the family,” Anne says to her sister Mary. “I hardly ever think of you” (Gregory 85).
Contemporary individuals consider their loyalty to lie first and foremost to themselves. They act for causes that will benefit them and avoid situations that will bring them harm. After their initial security is assured, the modern person will also pledge loyalty to the objects of their love and respect, notably family members, friends, lovers, and mentors. Once the individual people in one’s life are taken care of, the average contemporary will then turn their attention to more abstract concepts such as nation and state. George offers a very different hierarchy of obligation to his sister, which follows the order of family, kin, home, kingdom, and king (Gregory 268). Followers of this mindset are to work for the benefit of their networks at all times, never allowing for personal distractions. In accordance with this order of loyalty, Mary continually betrays Queen Katherine to her enemies, despite the fact that she loves her “more than any other in the world” (Gregory, 352).
At first glance, the culture and customs of Tudor England are enormously different from 21st century standards, giving this historical novel the level of entertainment value that is has. It is easy to focus on the aspects of life that are different. Gender roles today are vastly more equalized than they were for the men and women of Henry VIII’s days. Political and domestic lives are kept, for the most part, separated. Individuals have the freedom to love and marry as they please. By pointing out the differences in our lives, the author allows us to reflect upon the gifts our society has given us with freedom of choice and the security of human rights.
However, as one reads, one does not see Gregory’s characters as entirely foreign or alien. On the contrary, her vivid character development make the reader relate to and feel sympathy for Anne, Mary, George, William Stafford, and even King Henry. One watches the characters live through circumstances that one might not be able to fully comprehend or imagine with responses and reactions that are entirely understandable.
One example of this is the novel’s themes of ambition and family ties. By building George and Mary as relatable characters who feel and love as modern men and women do, the author pits them against the cold, ambitious forces personified by their controlling relatives. However, Anne, arguably the most single-mindedly ambitious character in the book, only becomes so (or becomes irrevocably so) after she loses her love, Henry Percy (Gregory 295). Then, their mother, who would ordinarily be classified with the static characters of the coldly ambitious family members, flinches when Uncle Howard casually discusses Anne’s potential “worthlessness” (Gregory 240). Finally, Uncle Howard himself declares Anne guilty through tears at the trial that condemns her (Gregory 654). These characters, whom the reader has been led to believe are solely politically driven and without feeling, have loved and felt deeply, despite their ambitions.
Gregory draws our attention to these characters as human beings who react to their environments—however foreign these environments may seem, initially—in much the same way as people would today. By telling her story with emphasis on the universal themes of power, sex, wealth, and love as driving forces of Tudor court life, many similarities can be drawn between the Tudor era and the modern—or, perhaps, any—era. The rich and colourfully atmospheric culture of the Tudor court provides Gregory with a unique opportunity to present issues of contemporary relevance in unfamiliar scenes. Seeing one’s own reflection where one wouldn’t expect to find it causes the reader to question and reflect upon the nature of contemporary society. The vivid humanity of Gregory’s characters causes the reader to question their own time period, in which the same dramas are acted out against different backdrops and with different characters. In this way, Philippa Gregory’s novel succeeds greatly both as an entertaining work of fiction as well as a historical testament to the enduring and timeless depth of humanity.
Works Cited
Gregory, Philippa. The Other Boleyn Girl. New York: Touchstone, 2003.
No comments:
Post a Comment