To what extent and why did the sixteenth century see the ‘taming’ of the aristocracy by the crown?

The power of 16th century English nobility waxed and waned episodically. There were episodes where the Crown successfully ‘tamed’ the nobility, and others where the nobility ‘tamed’ the Crown. These episodes can be traced in three cycles. The first cycle is the reign of Henry VII. Notorious for his brutal subjugation of the nobility, the nobility would never be quite as ‘tamed’ as they were under Henry VII. His use of fines, attainders and summary justice for suspected retaining (and maintenance), struck fear into current and future generations of nobility. Only 16 out of 62 noble families escaped his draconian measures. These policies were to last nine years into the 16th century. When Henry VIII acceded to the throne, he was compelled to let off the pressure somewhat. He, for instance, quickly repealed laws which granted Justices of the Peace summary justice for illicit retaining. Even so, magnates still remembered the ruinous fines, attainders and orders of forfeiture issued by his father. Unsurprisingly, the nobility remained apprehensive throughout Henry VIII’s reign. The tables turned, however, with the accession of Elizabeth I. Her Religious Settlement of 1559 had the effect of entrenching an elite of Protestant nobles in Parliament and at court. The expulsion of the Catholic clergy meant that servant aristocrats had to take charge over local government throughout England. A new noble elite successfully reigned in royal spending, leaving Elizabeth with precious little flexibility. Though prospects looked bleak from 1500-1558, the English aristocracy did not go gently into the Good Night of Tudor centralism.

The nobility under Henry VIII

In the early 16th century, English nobility was still reeling from the policies of Henry VII. Letters and correspondences tell this story all too vividly. Compared to their medieval predecessors – English 16th century magnates lived and breathed fear. They were apprehensive, spoke in equivocations and invented excuses to not attend court. The Tudor rebellions inflamed the situation further. Nobles deliberated their every move, fearing ill-chosen words might be misconstrued as treasonous. Cryptic letters went back and forth between anxious magnates, each more clandestine and obfuscated than the one before it. In his Power of the Early Tudor Nobility, G.W. Bernard has sifted through these letters by the thousands. His book maps, primarily, the communications of the Earl of Shrewsbury and his son Francis Talbot. Bernard believes the sentiments of the Shrewsbury’s are, if not representative, at least indicative of wider aristocratic attitudes. If we can assess the extent to which the Shrewsburys (and their affinities) were ‘tamed’, we can draw tenable conclusions about the rest of England’s nobility.

A case study – The Earl of Shrewsbury’s marriage arrangements

Shrewsbury’s arrangements for his daughter’s marriage speaks volumes of the relative ‘tameness’ of 16th century nobility. It speaks to the conspicuous boldness of some magnates, but also of excess caution. Eight years into Henry VIII reign, the fourth Earl of Shrewsbury was arranging a marriage for his daughter. In 1516, he settled for the son of the fifth Earl of Northumberland as the best candidate. This was a politically sensitive match. The marriage would shift Shrewsbury’s sphere of influence; away from the Welsh hinterlands, towards the north of England. Intentionally or unintentionally, this alliance would create a stronger ‘northern’ political bloc, a bloc which had the potential shifting power away from the Crown. Henry VIII and Cardinal Wolsey were concerned. The Tudor state was still quite fragile. Henry VII’s cutthroat centralisation had left many noblemen secretly hostile to the Crown. The Earl of Northumberland was especially problematic. Northumberland had recently fallen afoul of the Crown and had even served a short prison sentence. He was embittered. The match, therefore, was wholly undesirable form the Crown’s vantage point. Henry VIII quickly sent word, suggesting the Earl of Buckingham as a more suitable match. Unlike Northumberland, Buckingham was perceived to be devoid of subversive itchings. In Bernard’s words, Buckingham was the ‘epitome of a courtier-noble’; a man who would always be amenable to the Crown. Shrewsbury firmly rejected the proposal, and Wolsey’s go-betweens were quickly despatched to persuade him. But it was no use: One of the north’s most influential magnates (Shrewsbury) would soon be allies with a pot-stirrer.

Shrewsbury’s conduct speaks for a relatively empowered nobility. He stood his ground, flatly rejecting Henry’s proposal, whatever the consequences. His letters, however, tell another story. In reality, Shrewsbury was terrified. In 1516, he repeatedly feigned illness to avoid attending court. Each time he was summoned, he was quick to contrive an excuse not to attend. His assistant Alen, constantly probed terrain in London. Together, Shrewsbury and Alen conspired to stall court-summons for as long as possible. At one point, Alen even insisted that Shrewsbury must burn all letters suggesting conspiracy of this nature. If Shrewsbury is representative of the English aristocracy, the 16th century aristocracy had certainly been ‘tamed’ by the Crown, or were at the very least intimidated. But why was Shrewsbury so reluctant to attend court? The main reason seems to have been Henry VIII’s foreign policy. If Shrewsbury attended court, he would be ‘forced’ to articulate his opinion on Henry’s latest military escapades. His latest adventure had involved a immensely unpopular recruitment campaign of Swiss mercenaries. Criticism of this scheme would probably have been met with hostility. For this reason, magnates hid behind silence. As long as their sentiments remained unspoken, there was no king to wilfully misinterpret them. The delay of Shrewsbury’s marriage also speaks to a subjugated nobility. The marriage between Henry Percy and Mary Talbot did not take place until 1524. By that time, the political landscape had changed drastically. Northumberland was largely pacified and Buckingham was dead. Before these two criteria had been satisfied, Shrewsbury stalled the marriage for as long as he could. This suggests that the costs of sealing the marriage in 1516 outweighed its benefits. The costs being, presumably, Crown hostility. In this period, the Crown frequently levelled ‘bogus’ charges at magnates on loose grounds. Statutes concerning ‘maintenance’ for instance, had become alarmingly subjective. The nobility grew more apprehensive in proportion to statutory scopes of interpretation growing wider. This was why the king’s good favour was an invaluable asset for a magnate. It meant that it was infinitely less likely he would be indicted for vague crimes by the Crown.

In these respects, the aristocracy was certainly tamed. They ensconced themselves in their estates to avoid conflict. They burned their letters for fear they might wind up in the wrong hands. Yet, ironically, fear was reciprocal. The Crown clearly feared the nobility. Why would it otherwise feel compelled to prevent the Shrewsbury-Northumberland alliance? This reciprocity of fear also characterised Pilgrimage of Grace.

Shrewsbury and the Pilgrimage of Grace

The Pilgrimage of Grace speaks volumes about the fears and misgivings of English nobility. Bernard, again, maps ‘underground’ correspondences in this period. Shrewsbury, for one, was unhesitatingly loyal to the Crown. In fact, Shrewsbury played a decisive role in suppressing the Lincolnshire rebellion on the king’s behalf. Even so, many were convinced Shrewsbury would side with the rebels on the eve of the Pilgrimage. Famously, Lord Hussey wrote a letter (a veritable masterpiece of ambiguity and tentativeness) to Shrewsbury to probe the terrain. The letter in effect asked whether he could expect Shrewsbury’s blessing should he side with Aske. Shrewsbury’s answer was cool, unyielding and unforgiving. The phrasing of the letter is almost reminiscent of contemporary Mafia films, where an affable Al Capone leans back in a hideous neo-rococo chair – with feigned languor – while threatening some poor henchman. He writes, for instance, that his only mandate is to ‘repress [the rebellion], which I doubt not but ye would put your helping hand to.’ This letter terrified Hussey and he immediately fled to Shrewsbury’s estate. Once Hussey was gone, the Lincolnshire rebellion quickly stagnated.

The vast majority of England’s nobility went down the Hussey route; initially expressing sympathy for the rebels, but quickly yielding under royal pressure. Except for a few. One of them was Lord Darcy. Like Hussey, he probed the terrain with Shrewsbury through letters. Unlike Hussey, however, he prevaricated – not revealing his position. He answered Shrewsbury’s letters in postscripts, i.e. appendices to previous letters. By doing this, he kept Shrewsbury in the dark as where his loyalties lay. These intrigues and clandestine practices, again, suggests the nobility always lived on the edge. Both Darcy and Shrewsbury wrote letters as if Henry were peering over their shoulders. Shrewsbury must have felt this especially strongly, since corresponding with Darcy was essentially suicide. If Shrewsbury’s letter contained just one phrase which could be misinterpreted as expressing sympathy for Darcy, he was done for.

Such was the pre-Elizabethan plight of the Tudor nobility. In terms the power they wielded, their prerogatives, their liberties, their spheres of influence; the English nobility had reached its historical nadir. Fortunately for them, ‘the bottom’ is exactly where Fortune’s Wheel begins its ascendance.

The Elizabethan Aristocracy

In the first half of the 16th century, as we have seen, the nobility were no longer a counterweight to monarchical authority. Henry VII had made sure of this. They were no longer ‘institutions’ in their own right, projecting influence in a decentralised manner. Rather, they lived under the oppressive boot of the Tudor state. However, in a fascinating twist of fate, this all changed under Elizabeth I. In spite of her entertaining (seemingly boundless) contempt for Parliament (and by extension, the noblemen which populated it), the nobility flourished under Elizabeth I. A ‘New Aristocracy’, harnessed the Reformation in their rise to power. The shift began in 1559, with Elizabeth’s Religious Settlement. Prior to the settlement, some determined protestants had weaselled their way into the corridors of power. At that time, they were resolved – but outnumbered by Catholics. Once the resolution came however, their Catholic opposition dissolved. Many were imprisoned, fined and exiled, leaving protestants firmly entrenched in the seats of power. The vestiges of Catholic authority which remained were feeble. They were plagued by theological rifts, factionalism and division. Protestant MPs, on the other hand, were unified in a protestant ideological purpose. To borrow MacCafferey’s image, ‘the lay leaders of English Protestantism were now sturdy perennials, firmly rooted in the soil of English politics, no longer “exotic but shallow-rooted” annuals blossoming out in the unexpected sun of a freak summer’. The expulsion of Catholic clergy also had the corollary of empowering the nobility. The absent clergy left a conspicuous vacuum in local governance. These vacuums were rapidly filled by lay servant aristocrats, who now enjoyed executive powers of old. This also coincided with a, in the modern parlance, government austerity crisis. The riches which accrued to the Crown following the dissolution of the monasteries had been squandered by Henry. The monastic estates were largely bought by the nobility, many of whom had a mind to dictate their own terms on those estates. Short for cash, Elizabeth lacked fiscal flexibility and was forced to rely heavily on the nobility as a result.

In summary, the nobility waxed and waned in the 16th century. Most of them remembered the policies of Henry VII all too vividly, and were extremely cautious and apprehensive as a result. However, a windfall came with the Reformation. A Protestant elite within parliament set the precedent for a ‘New Aristocracy’, which partially regained its executive power. Much to her chagrin and dismay, Elizabeth I increasingly relied on the nobility for funding. Finally, it was the nobility who circumscribed the Crown rather than vice versa.

Bibliography

Bernard, G.W.

The Power of the Early Tudor Nobility (Sussex: The Harvester Press, 1985)

Ellis, S. G.

The Making of the British Isles: The State of Britain and Ireland 1450-1660 (Pearson Education Ltd, 2007)

Bush, M. L.

The English Aristocracy: A Comparative Synthesis (Manchester U. P., 1984)

McFarlane, K. B.

The Nobility of Later Medieval England (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1973)

MacCaffrey, W. T.

‘England: The Crown and the New Aristocracy, 1540-1600’, Past & Present, No. 30 (Apr., 1965), pp. 52-64