North Alabama Historical Review Volume 4 North Alabama Historical Review, Volume 4, 2014 Article 3 2014 To Keep His Subjects Low: A Machiavellian Interpretation of Henry VII John Clinton Harris University of North Alabama Follow this and additional works at: https://ir.una.edu/nahr Part of the European History Commons, and the Public History Commons Recommended Citation Harris, J. C. (2014). To Keep His Subjects Low: A Machiavellian Interpretation of Henry VII. North Alabama Historical Review, 4 (1). Retrieved from https://ir.una.edu/nahr/vol4/iss1/3 This Article is brought to you for free and open access by UNA Scholarly Repository. It has been accepted for inclusion in North Alabama Historical Review by an authorized editor of UNA Scholarly Repository. For more information, please contact [email protected]. To Keep His Subjects Low: A Machiavellian Interpretation of Henry VII John Clinton Harris When Henry Tudor became Henry VII on August 22, 1485, following his victory at the Battle of Bosworth Field, many believed the anarchic course of English politics would continue unabated. The Wars of the Roses had gone on for thirty years, a period so long that intrigue, murder, and military force were now common political tools. Furthermore, there was no outward indication that Bosworth would be the last great political upheaval in the conflict; the new king was a twenty-eight year old former exile to the French court who had asserted his royal claim with nothing more than what his rival Richard III sneeringly called “a nomber of beggarly Britons and faynte harted Frenchmen.”1 The victory had only been achieved due to the fractured and distrustful state of English politics, and many, commoner and noble alike, probably wondered how long the young upstart would last before he was killed and replaced after sitting upon a bloody throne of his own. Time proved this initial impression incorrect; just as Henry Tudor was strong enough to attain the crown, Henry VII was shrewd enough to keep it. The new king understood that his success, and England’s, required more than a mere change of dynasty; nothing less than a radical departure from medieval political practice in favor of a more 1 J.D. Mackie, The Earlier Tudors (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1952), 52. centralized government would enable him to secure a united England capable of navigating the political turbulence of early modern Europe. The first Tudor accomplished his objectives by anticipating the precepts of power first outlined by Niccolo Machiavelli in The Prince, and through methods that were not always popular or just, Henry fused the Red and White Rose together. Machiavelli’s letter to Lorenzo II provides an excellent theoretical lens for the evaluation of Henry VII, a monarch who reigned during Machiavelli’s own political career and died only three years before The Prince was completed in 1512. Louis XII, Alexander VI, and Ferdinand of Aragon were Henry’s contemporaries as well as models for Machiavelli’s bold new science of politics intended to advise princes living in the early sixteenth century. The pragmatic philosophy of The Prince emphasizes ends, with almost any means wholly justifiable; hypocrisy and the embrace of moral contradiction are necessary for sound governance, narrowly defined as the preservation of order, stability, and peace within the realm of the prince. If sound governance is achieved by moral actions, then those actions are, in his view, laudable, but if that same goal requires amoral or immoral actions, than those actions are also praiseworthy, if done properly. In Machiavelli’s view, nothing is as dangerous as anarchy, and order, the font of princely power, must be the main objective of any effective royal government. Henry VII seized power, established order, and brought about sound governance through four of the political skills Machiavelli emphasizes: using virt̀u to manipulate fortune, choosing and managing effective advisors, actively enriching the crown and enlarging the state, and judiciously using both force and diplomacy. Historians such as J. D. Mackie have already implicitly and explicitly connected Machiavelli to the early Tudor dynasty: Judged by the theory of the middle ages, the rule of this sort may seem to be a shocking innovation: but it was not, in fact, far removed from medieval practice. It was the service of the Renaissance to tear away the decent sheepskin which had covered the medieval wolf, and incidentally to justify his existence on the ground that one great wolf was better than a pack of carnivores.2 Mackie’s words echo Machiavelli’s own syntax: Since a ruler, then, needs to know how to make good use of beastly qualities, he should take as his models among the animals both the fox and the lion, for the lion does not know how to avoid traps, and the fox is easily overpowered by wolves.3 Mackie’s understated use of Machiavelli’s language subtly asserts the relevance of The Prince in understanding the reign of Henry VII, and tacit agreement with Henry’s Machiavellian policy. Thomas Penn acknowledges the method, but despairs: “Looking into the world of dynastic uncertainty, he [Henry VII] was perfecting a system, idiosyncratic and terrifying, that would allow him unprecedented control over his subjects. He would describe this plan in terms that were an uncanny foreshadowing of Machiavelli’s own.”4 Deliberately invoking the sinister reputation of Shakespeare’s “murderous Machiavel” for the effect it will have on the reader, Penn’s Winter King 2 Ibid., 5-6. 3 Niccolo Machiavelli, The Prince, ed. David Wootton, (Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing Company, Inc., 1995), 54. 4 Thomas Penn, Winter King; Henry VII and The Dawn of Tudor England (New York: Simon & Schuster, 2011), 146. often approaches pathography; the title itself evokes a cold, bleak environment ravaged by dread and anxiety. For Penn, the Henrican system, stony and impersonal as the Tower of London itself, was not worth the price of an oppressive central state that seemed to foment suspicion everywhere in England.5 Although they might disagree on the morality of Henry’s political system, Tudor historians agree that the methodology of the new state centered on the elaborate structuring of political debt.6 The Wars of the Roses had become so perpetual that even the death of bona fide royal claimants was not enough to end dynastic dispute; impostors such as Lambert Simnel or Perkin Warbeck were still championed by highborn schemers despite the fact that they were obvious counterfeits.7 Political and military tactics proved minimally effective in thwarting noble ambition, and Henry soon decided that rendering civil war unaffordable was the only option available for curtailing future hostilities. Tudor historians agree that Henry devised a financial system meant to debase and impoverish the nobility, but, as the arguments of Mackie and Penn demonstrate, they disagree as to whether Henry VII was a financier or miser. This may be a question of particular importance for moralists, but not for Machiavelli, for whom only an effective outcome matters; a good prince should be parsimonious, but not rapacious, for the surest way to angering the 5 Ibid., 167-170. 6 See also G.R. Elton, England Under the Tudors (London: Methuen & Co., Ltd. 1955), 42-45; H.A.L. Fisher, The Political History of England (New York: Greenwood Press, 1906),127; John Guy, Tudor England (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1988), 64-68; C.H. Williams, “Henry VII,” in The Great Tudors, ed. Katherine Garvin (London: Ivor, Nicholson, and Watson, Limited 1935), 16-19. 7 Mackie, The Earlier Tudors, 120-121. populace is to garner a reputation for stealing their property.8 This leads to a prince becoming hated and in Machiavelli’s view this is the most dangerous thing a ruler can allow to happen, for it erodes his legitimacy and fosters the breeding ground for conspiracy. Disaffected elites are far less likely to turn to plotting if they believe the people will not be with them; a prince can die, but killing his dynastic authority is another thing entirely, as Brutus and Cassius learned after the mob chased them out of Rome.9 The real question should not be whether Henry’s financial assault on the nobility was just, but whether it led to his being hated by the entire populace at the time. Richard III’s actions quickly led to his being despised by the elite and the populace, and characterized the entirety of his two year reign. The brutal methods he and his brother, Edward IV, had employed to secure their throne turned the English people against the Yorkist regime, and more importantly, the support for Richard III within the House of York itself: Edward IV had alienated the old aristocracy by his marriage to Elizabeth Woodville. He had broken the King-maker, he had executed Clarence. Richard III had declared the issue of Edward IV illegitimate, had murdered the princes, and had seized the Crown himself. Each successive act of violence had left its legacy of hate, and the once powerful Yorkist party was shivered into fragments, mutually distrustful but all ill disposed to the king.10 8 Machiavelli, The Prince, 56. 9 Ibid., 57. 10 Mackie, The Earlier Tudors, 48-49. The Yorkist kings were certainly barbarous, but they were also unsuccessful in employing cruelty in an instrumentally effective way. The populace will tolerate a massacre at the beginning of a prince’s reign as long as violence is not prolonged, but continuous assassinations, even on a small scale, will incur their hatred and harm a prince’s legitimacy. Machiavelli looks to Agathocles the Sicilian, a man who consolidated his power in a quick massacre of the entire senate of Syracuse, as a better example of “well-used cruelty”: Perhaps you are wondering how Agathocles and others like him, despite their habitual faithlessness and cruelty, have been able to reside in their homelands year after year, and to defend themselves from enemies abroad….