Chapter 1
The White Rose and the Red: The Wars of the Roses and the Rise of Absolutism in England (1400â1558)
The single most important shift in the English ideological conception of sovereignty and government came with the dissolution of feudalism following the Wars of the Roses. The fifteenth century marked the English transition from a fully participatory government to one that, while clinging steadfastly to Parliamentary regulation, espoused the continental doctrine of monarchical absolutism. This was also, perhaps ironically, the era during which Parliament confirmed its legislative power, cementing the need for its consent to ratify all legislation.1 Compounding the intellectual struggle of rearticulating the power-dynamic between Parliament and the crown was a deterioration of the feudal hierarchy. With Henry VI incapable of mediating between Parliament, the peerage, and his own royal authority, national stability crumbled, and the increasing ideological division between the nobility and the commons produced a rejection of the feudal framework, dismantled feudalism altogether, and gave rise to absolutist doctrine.
The late fourteenth and fifteenth centuries saw serfs and villeins replaced by waged liveried retainers whose new role indicated the almost complete dissolution of the feudal system of unpaid laborers.2 This change in the social hierarchy in England known as âbastard feudalismâ altered the relationship between lord and vassal such that the vassal came to personally rely upon (and therefore exhibit loyalty toward) his immediate superior (and employer) over his loyalty to community or nation.3 The lord gained manpower and prestige, and the retainer received wealth, status, and legal protection.4 In one sense, the development of such retainers was simply a natural product of a system which already included a mutually beneficial implied contract between lords and vassals. In another, the replacement of an implied contractual agreement with an actual contract echoes earlier legal developments in which statutes came to provide documentation for the rights encompassed by common law and the ancient constitution.
Along with the emergence of a merchant class, for whom identity and livelihood came to be associated with baronial power, came the introduction of a term which, Starkey has noted, âmarked the birth of a new political languageâ: âThe word âcommonwealthâ first appeared in the crisis of 1450; it was experimented with in Yorkâs increasingly desperate forays for power in the mid-1450s; and it was fully developed in the grand upheaval of 1459.â5 Phil Withington argues that the term sprang into use even earlier, beginning with the parochial governments of Bristol in 1439 and Coventry in 1446 before being transmitted to the national lexicon, legitimized by Sir John Fortescue in the 1470s, and officially appearing on the title page of The statutes concernynge the comon wele made in the parliament holden at westmynster the xiiii day of October in the reygne of oure souereyne lorde the kynge: kynge henry the seuenthe: eleuenth yere in 1496.6 The term became assimilated into political discourse following its use during Cadeâs Rebellion, âwhen Kentish rebels legitimated their march on London in the name of the âcommon weal,â and was helped on its way by Yorkist propagandists who recognized the slogan as a way to galvanize popular support against Henry VI and his favourites,â by demanding reform âfor the weal of him our sovereign lord, and of all the realm.â7
With the public acknowledgment of England as a âcommonwealthâ came the associated understanding that the commons were to have a voice in its governance. The significance of this term became increasingly important under both the Tudors and Stuarts, and was particularly prominent in the history plays, providing the impetus for the staged depositions of monarchs up to the closing of the theaters in 1642, when it became the rallying cry for the Civil War (so much so that from 1649 to 1660 it was used to refer to England itself).
Even as early as the mid-fifteenth century, the combination of âbastard feudalismâ and the idea of the âcommonwealthâ produced a general discontent with the institution of monarchy and claims of absolutism more specifically. For example, in The Difference Between an Absolute and Limited Monarchy; As It More Particularly Regards the English Constitution, Fortescue compares absolute (Dominium Regale) and limited (Dominium Politicum & Regale) monarchies, arguing âthat it was better to the People to be ruld, Pollitykly and Royally, than to be rulid, only Royally.â8 The distinction Fortescue makes is
that the first may rule his People by such Lawys as he makyth hymself; and therfor he may set upon them Talys, and other Impositions, such as he wyl hymself, without their Assent. The secund may not rule hys People, by other Lawys than such as they assenten non Impositions without their own Assent.9
The importance of assent to rule distinguishes absolute from limited monarchy in Fortescueâs mind, and ultimately rests upon the notion of the sovereign-subject compact. Even in the midst of the chaos surrounding the Wars of the Roses, the ideology behind the sovereign-subject compact placed restrictions on crown authority. However, the parochialism of the Wars themselves, perhaps surprisingly, caused a resurgence of the ancient cult of divine monarchy in an attempt, at the close of the Wars of the Roses, to quell the divisions amongst the nobles and their servants.
Importing Absolutism: Henry VII and Divine Ordination
More than anything else, the Wars of the Roses demonstrated the fragility of the monarchy and the unreliability of primogeniture as a means of ensuring peace and prosperity. Although Henry VIIâs success in ending the conflict and uniting the houses of York and Lancaster did restore a sense of security, the specter of the Wars of the Roses served both as pro-Tudor propaganda and as a reminder of the chaos that could ensue without a stable line of succession.
Confirmed king by Parliament in 1485, Henry VII cited his victory on the battlefield over Richard III as the designation of God, and placed the blame for the Wars with the barons and his predecessors.10 Whether the peerage was culpable for the rebellion against Henry VI (the Lancastrian view) or the earlier deposition of Richard II (the Yorkist view), the fault for the Wars of the Roses was placed elsewhere than with the throne. This not only helped to legitimize Henryâs claim, but also authorized his assertions of greater sovereign autonomy. If the domination of the barons produced civil war, then a stronger monarchy and more limited Parliament and peerage would lead to civil harmony and the âcommon-wealth,â went the argument. For the middle and lower classes negatively impacted by war, it was an attractive claim.
The simultaneous disintegration of the feudal hierarchy and the chaos of civil war created the proverbial âperfect stormâ for the adoption of absolutism in England at the close of the Wars of the Roses. At the center of this ideological shift were the representatives of the commons: knights, towns, merchants, and even the new class of liveried retainers. The peerage had a long-standing custom of monarchical manipulation and control that disenfranchised the commons and crown alike. The nobility had not only weakened, but essentially bankrupted the monarchy; the response that came from the members of the House of Commons, therefore, was overwhelmingly positive in favor of restoring crown lands and revenues as a way of reinstating monarchical over baronial power.11 When coupled with a revised sense of English identity independent of feudalism, this rejection of the previously powerful nobility not only enabled Henry to lay claim to absolutism, but also cultivated the populace to become vocal and active supporters or censurers of the crown throughout the early modern period.
What made Henry VII specifically successful in importing absolutism was his ability to use it to curtail the over-powerful nobility. As Myers explains, the cross-European decline of feudalism gave rise to similar âNew Monarchsâ in France and Spain:
What distinguished the later fifteenth-century group from their successful predecessors was their ability to manipulate forces for the construction and strengthening of early nation-states. They were no longer bound so much to maintain themselves on top of the old feudal pyramid as they were bound to make themselves independent of it.12
Not only were the New Monarchs determined to release themselves from the limitations that accompanied the feudal understanding of the sovereign as âlandowner par excellence,â they were redefining monarchy itself, perhaps nowhere more drastically than in England, where common law and the Anglo-Saxon ancient constitution had limited sovereign authority for centuries.
While Henry altered neither the structure of English government nor its professed legal adherence to common law and the ancient constitution, he did introduce the ideological underpinnings of divinely ordained monarchy granted specifically to the person of the king. In doing so, he turned away from the originary mythos which articulated monarchical power as reliant upon the approval of the communitas, paving the way for later Stuart claims of divine right, which rejected Parliamentary intercession and popular rebellion alike. For Henry, it was important to assert his right to the throne based on divine endowment in accordance with absolutist theory as well as mythic traditions of inheritance; he âclaimed descent from Cadwalader,â who, according to legend, received a visit from an angel prophesying the British reclamation of England from Saxon authority, and also insisted âthat he was divinely ordained to quell political turbulence by marrying the daughter of Edward IV.â13 Both mythic and spiritual claims reinforced the doctrine with which Henry subsequently ruled and which he passed on to his descendants.
This paradigmatic shift ...