Henry VIII’s contributions to reform policy in Ireland are generally regarded as sporadic, uncertain, and at times contradictory. But they appear less so in the light of practical and intellectual parallels with the treatises of 1515 and policy papers like the ‘Remembrances’,55
contributing to a sense of continuity in the evolution of crown policy. Three of Henry’s letters composed in the latter half of 1520 – two addressed to Surrey and one to an unknown Irish chieftain – paint a succinct but nonetheless reasonably robust picture of his personal approach to the problems of the Irish lordship.
The fundamental nature of that approach has been the source of diverse interpretations in the historiography. Lydon acknowledged the conciliatory tone of Henry’s discourse with Surrey, contrasting them with Edward I’s ‘condemnation of Irish law as detestable to God,’ and pointing out that they ‘even went well beyond what Richard II was prepared to concede, when he promised justice to aggrieved Irish chieftains.’ But, like many, he cautiously implies darker motives: ‘[t]here was,’ he says, ‘a sting in Henry’s message, however, which gave a hint of the more authoritative attitude of the future.’56 Historian Thomas Bartlett, too, dismisses Henry’s
conciliatory words and diminishes the evident discursive contrast between Henry and Surrey, declaring that ‘[t]he distinction between the two approaches has probably been exaggerated: Henry VIII might have preferred mild measures, but implicit in his remarks was the threat of stunning violence should these be rejected.’57 But Lydon’s ‘sting’ and the dark motives asserted by Bartlett or implied by others, Quinn reasonably points out, was nothing more than the agency 55 As well as the late sixteenth‐century copy of an earlier manuscript titled ‘Touching the revenues of Ireland’, which records that Henry had, in fact, begun a ‘general reformation’ in the eighth year of his reign. 'Touching the revenues of Ireland', BL Cotton MS Titus B XII, f. 324v. 56 James Lydon, The Making of Ireland: From Ancient Times to the Present (London and New York, 2012), p. 125. 57 Thomas Bartlett, Ireland: A History (Cambridge, 2010), p. 75.
of a king consistent in his application of an evolving conception of royal sovereignty. It was, he says:
the earliest and most extreme manifesto of a new monarchy and of a king who did not need Wolsey or Cromwell to put concepts of unqualified sovereignty into his head. That Henry took the trouble to enunciate it in an Irish connection has a special interest here but it is clearly what he believed as a king in England also.58
Bradshaw reflects Quinn’s observations; although he, like Elton, emphasised the agency of the Cromwell over Henry.59 Like Lydon, Bradshaw contrasts Henry’s disposition with Surrey’s
bellicose inclination towards conquest. He says that ‘[t]he king’s conciliatory gesture here was to provide an assurance that the conquest was at an end.’ But there was a problem with Henry’s approach, he continues, and this was related to the issue of ‘ancient titles’, where former ‘Anglo‐ Norman feudatories had since become part of the patrimony of the crown.’ But, he continues, ‘the failure of the male line of the feudatory – gave actual possession to expanding Gaelic septs, or to upstart Anglo‐Irish families.’ On this matter in particular, he implies, Henry’s intransigence would foster further discord in Ireland.60
For his own part, the Earl of Surrey’s dispatches to Wolsey and Henry, beginning early in his tenure, are remarkably consistent in casting aspersions on the veracity of the native Irish.61 He was quickly convinced of the need to take a strong hand with them, seeing it necessary to rule over the chiefs and captains of the Irishry rather than with or through them.62 Taken together, 58 Quinn, 'Henry VIII and Ireland, 1509‐34', pp. 325‐6. 59 Elton is generally dismissive of Henry’s interest in reform in his dominions. Regarding three reformist memos Henry had drafted c. 1519, one of which related to Ireland, Elton views them as anomalies and evidence only of Henry’s vacillating interest in administrative affairs. G.R. Elton, Tudor Revolution in Government (Cambridge, 1969), pp. 37‐8. 60 Bradshaw, Constitutional Revolution, pp. 63‐4. For a more neutral interpretation of their discourse, and details relating to Surrey’s tenure as lieutenant in Ireland, see: David M. Head, Ebbs and Flows of Fortune: The Life of Thomas Howard, Third Duke of Norfolk (Athens & London, 1995), pp. 56ff. 61 SP, Ire., Hen. VIII (1515‐37), vol. 2, 3, Cap. 3, p. 37; Cap. 6, p. 41; Cap. 7, p. 43. 62 SP, Ire., Hen. VIII (1515‐37), vol. 2, 3, Cap. 15, p. 62. But cf. Bradshaw, who posits the unlikely theory that Surrey’s proposals for a new conquest cannot be taken at face value. He correctly observes that ‘[the] particular interest of Surrey’s proposals is that already at this stage they outline the strategy of the classical colonial policy developed under the Elizabethan conquistadores.’ But he then reads into Surrey’s hawkish recommendations a
Connolly observes, Henry’s and Surrey’s attitudes towards the lordship illustrate ‘the two opposing principles that were to characterize Tudor policy towards Gaelic Ireland, conquest and reform [or conciliation, which] sat in ambiguous juxtaposition.’63 Surrey’s attitude was plainly
that of a military man who intended to fall back on the traditional means of subduing a hostile population.
But Henry’s approach stood in stark contrast: it was that of a young man of some learning, brought up in an environment of Renaissance humanism, in a court populated by men who promoted the idea that monarchs had an obligation to take an active role in the administration of the kingdom. Given this upbringing, it is worth reconsidering his disposition to reform in the lordship. Indeed, the ambiguity in the historiography can be addressed by a close examination of Henry’s own words. These suggest that Henry did subscribe to humanist ideologies in general, and, more practically and evidently, that he was also attentive to the suggestions recently made by several reform‐minded writers and began to formulate his own programme of reform intended to address the long‐standing problem of Ireland.
Henry’s first letter, written in late May or June, shortly after Surrey’s arrival, concerns itself with addressing some of the issues the new governor had evidently brought up.64 From that missive it
is possible to infer Surrey’s observation of how disordered the lordship was: its inadequate soldiery, particularly of horsemen; and a distressing lack of victuals which necessitated the taking of coyne and livery. Henry tended to respond to Surrey’s recommendations favourably and with alacrity, beginning preparations to dispatch a contingent of 100 horsemen from the north of
clever ploy to ‘put Henry VIII off’ a large‐scale conquest, for ‘[it] would be difficult to reconcile such an uncompromising approach to Irish politics with the reputation he gained, according to a number of contemporary sources, for fair and courteous treatment, as well of the Gaelic as of the Anglo‐Irish.’ Indeed, he says, Surrey ‘was at pains to emphasise its daunting nature in case the king might find the prospect attractive,’ stressing ‘the difficulty of financing, feeding and equipping the army of 6,000 that would be required.’ Apart from the reputation he had for equitable treatment, there is little reason to suppose that Surrey meant anything other than what he actually said. Bradshaw, Constitutional Revolution, pp. 64‐5. On Surrey’s reputation, he directs the reader to: CCM: Book of Howth, vol. 6, pp. 190‐2; SP, Ire., Hen. VIII (1515‐37), vol. 2, 3, Cap. 64, pp. 169, Cap. 28, pp. 91‐2. 63 Connolly, Contested Island: Ireland 1460‐1630, pp. 78‐9. Connolly may have intended ‘conciliation’ rather than the term ‘reform’ here. The former makes the remark clearer, though the point remains the same: that Henry’s ideas for the lordship were fundamentally at odds with the means Surrey felt he needed to resort to in order to bring any sort of change to fruition. 64 The letter is probably that summarised in: LP (1519‐21), vol. 3‐1, Cap. 889, p. 319.
England and Wales. But he was also pragmatic: eschewing decades of criticism condemning coyne and livery, he permitted it to be levied ‘after the auncient accustumable maner there used,’ in order to address Surrey’s victualling concerns.65 Short‐term practical measures like livery could
be borne if they contributed to the longer‐term campaign of ‘reducing that Reame to the knoulege of God, obeisaunce of Us, whereof shall ensue peace, wealthe, and prousperitie to all thinhabitauntes of the same.’66 It was a somewhat vague and idealistic objective but a
nevertheless inclusive and optimistic one that Henry, under the current political circumstances, seemed committed to.
In his letter composed in October‐November of 1520, Henry stressed the crown’s desire that those chiefs and captains of the Irishry ‘forbere to deteigne rebelliously suche landes and dominions as to Us in right apperteigneth,’ before uttering the memorable phrase that he should bring that about by employing ‘sober waies, politique driftes, and amiable persuasions.’67 This
was not the grasping mentality of a conqueror at work, nor perhaps the Machiavellian cunning of a cynical profit‐driven colonialist; the necessary reciprocity of the relationship between the ruler and ruled still prevailed. Such methods as were used to regain dynastic lands were to be ‘founded in lawe and reason,’ and not ‘by rigorous dealing, comminacions, or any other inforcement by strenght or violence.’68 Henry was at pains to make it clear that coercion was not
on the table; the chieftains should be reassured of the crown’s sincerity: ‘How be it, our mynde is not, that ye shall impresse in thaym any opinion by fearfull wordes, that We intende to expelle theym in their awne, [rather]...to use their advise, aide, and assistence, as of faithfull subgiettes, to recover our rightfull inheritaunce.’69
Henry’s objective of securing peace, wealth, and prosperity in the context of a mutually supportive commonweal applied to all inhabitants of Ireland; it required equal participation from English as well Irish ‘captains and hedes’, who were to ‘come into you [Surrey], as our obesiaunt subgiettes.’ He made explicit his view that the native Irish, no less than the English of the lordship, 65 SP, Ire., Hen. VIII (1515‐37), vol. 2, 3, Cap. 2, p. 33. 66 SP, Ire., Hen. VIII (1515‐37), vol. 2, 3, Cap. 2, p. 32. Italics mine. 67 SP, Ire., Hen. VIII (1515‐37), vol. 2, 3, Cap. 12, p. 52. 68 SP, Ire., Hen. VIII (1515‐37), vol. 2, 3, Cap. 12, p. 52. 69 SP, Ire., Hen. VIII (1515‐37), vol. 2, 3, Cap. 12, p. 53.
had to the crown a ‘naturall duetie of liegeaunce’, one that went back – as so many recent treatise writers had reminded him – some three and half centuries.70
There was no denying the reality of the twelfth‐century conquest; this was an obvious point of fact for the native Irish who had had no choice in coming to terms with the Anglo‐Norman invaders. But it was a point that was perhaps not so obvious to the descendants of those invaders, who now clung to far‐flung vestigial outposts and had become, over the course of the last two centuries, hesitant to re‐assert claims of title to the entire island. Henry had no intentions of making good those claims on the basis of military conquest, as English kings might once have. What he had on his mind, rather, were the oaths and pledges formerly made to Henry II, as well as to Richard II in the late fourteenth century, when the great chieftains of Ireland had sworn allegiance to the English crown. Such pledges would have automatically invoked the crown’s reciprocal duty to the lordship’s inhabitants, English and Irish alike.
At least for the time being, Henry was attempting to re‐assert his authority in Ireland in the manner prescribed by the author of the ‘State of Ireland’, by duly recognising the mutuality of obligations which constituted the more sophisticated ideas of the commonweal expressed in that document. In short, he was re‐asserting English sovereignty in a dominion that had long forgotten what that looked like, and in a manner that conformed to Renaissance notions that abjured claims to title that relied on violent coercion.
For Henry, the concept of commonweal was more than a political slogan; it was an idea of significant political and social import. Men of learning were talking about it; some, like Thomas More, circulated within his own court. And Henry, perhaps not unlike More around this time, was beginning to believe that the ideal could be operationalised in the administration of the day.
Notably at this time, between 1518 and July 1521, Henry was working on his Assertio Septem
Sacramentorum, or Defence of the Seven Sacraments, a response to Martin Luther’s 1520 Babylonish Captivity which would soon win Henry the title of ‘Defender of the Faith’. Just how
70 SP, Ire., Hen. VIII (1515‐37), vol. 2, 3, Cap. 2, p. 34; Henry uses the phrase again in a letter of October‐November
many minds were involved in its composition remains a mystery, but it seems certain that Henry did not compose it alone. Speculation points to the possible involvement of a number of eminent men including: Wolsey; or more likely John Longland, royal confessor and almoner; or the Cambridge educated, conservative theologian, Edward Lee, who had worked with Erasmus (much to his eventual regret) on his New Testament, and was, by 1520, royal chaplain.71 It is also
probable that Thomas More assisted after the groundwork was completed ‘”as a sorter‐out and placer of the principal matters contained therein”,’ as his son‐in‐law, William Roper, later recalled.72 But it would be a mistake to imagine that it was a product purely of minds more sophisticated than his own; the king’s letters show ample evidence of a striving, if not keen, political intellect. While the focus of his book rested unswervingly on answering Luther’s ecclesiastical criticisms, the years he spent working on it evidently brought him into more intimate contact with educated men like Lee, as well as notable humanists who had long circulated about the court, such as More, Skelton, Colet, and Fisher, to say nothing of the visits of Erasmus, the longest and most recent between 1511 and 1515.73 It is therefore not beyond the bounds of reason that Henry may have had significant opportunity to engage in stimulating conversation and give meaningful thought to ideas of political as well as religious reform. Indeed, Henry’s letters to Surrey during his lieutenancy supply important testimony to the king’s commitment to the broad humanist programme of religious, social, and political regeneration.74 71 Claire Cross, 'Lee, Edward (1481/2–1544)', ODNB, Accessed 24 May 2017, http://www.oxforddnb.com/view/article/16278. 72 Scarisbrick, Henry VIII, pp. 111‐13. 73 On the eve of the book’s unveiling, in April of 1521, Oxford and Cambridge ‘nominated senior theologians to attend a conference about Luther convened by Wolsey.’ Henry, in fact, ‘ordered Wolsey to arrange for him to address them, and...took the credit for convoking them.’ Richard Rex, 'The English Campaign Against Luther in the 1520s (The Alexander Prize Essay)', Transactions of the Royal Historical Society (Fifth Series), 39 (1989), pp. 85‐106, p. 89 74 Politically, ‘[the] crown of [the humanist] programme of reform...was a universal Christian peace.’ But it also rested on the education of princes, on moral regeneration, and on the elimination of corruption. This ‘high‐water mark of Christian humanism’ was, at least temporarily, fulfilled by the Wolsey‐brokered Treaty of London. But it was also contemporaneous with the dramatic change of policy in Ireland. The period, no less in England than in the lordship of Ireland, appears to have represented a time of significant religious, political, and intellectual exploration for the relatively young king. Reform, in its many incarnations, was on his mind. Elton, Reform and Reformation: England, 1509‐1558, pp.15‐16.
The purpose of this digression into the influence of humanist thought on the reform discourse of the lordship is to help round out other discussions relating to early Tudor reform in Ireland which focus on purely pragmatic motives. These tend to overstate the pecunious nature of the crown at the expense of due consideration of countervailing intellectual forces. But the two need not be mutually exclusive, in the manner the most recent study of the period suggests.
In their 2015 Tudor Discovery of Ireland, Christopher Maginn and Steven Ellis express understandable frustration over the question of how humanism helped shaped reform discourse; they downplay its important effects in favour of their own explanation emphasising a process they term ‘discovery’.75 They do this by focussing on the arguments put forth in Bradshaw’s 1979
Constitutional Revolution of the Sixteenth Century. That study revolved around the growth of a
humanist‐inspired Anglo‐Irish reforming clique in the Pale. But Maginn and Ellis, rejecting the idea, paint in very broad strokes, concluding that
[t]he influence on political thinking of an intellectual phenomenon such as humanism in early modern times is notoriously difficult to demonstrate; its influence in Ireland, where there was neither a royal court nor universities to foster the kind of scholarship and intellectual discourse associated with the phenomenon elsewhere, even more so.76
This is in some respects a valid criticism, as Fiona Fitzsimons has shown in her 2004 study, ‘Wolsey, the native affinities, and the failure of reform in Henrician Ireland’. There, she notes that the few treatises available for the early sixteenth century, and which Bradshaw used as a cornerstone of his thesis, should not be considered ‘evidence of an Anglo‐Irish reform movement with a philosophical underpinning of Renaissance Humanism.’77 While the Pale intellectual milieu was not as sterile as is sometimes supposed (a notion that will be considered in the next chapter), the point to emphasise here is that its influence came to bear, rather as might be expected – in London, upon the king and intellectual circles at court and in educational institutions throughout the realm. The argument put forth here is that the strongest 75 Maginn and Ellis, Tudor Discovery, p. 16. 76 Maginn and Ellis, Tudor Discovery, p. 139. 77 Fitzsimons, 'Wolsey, the Native Affinities', Regions and Rulers in Ireland, 1100‐1650, pp. 83‐4.
influence of humanism on reform discourse relating to the lordship in the early 1520s originated not in the Pale – but with the king himself. This is borne out plainly in the king’s correspondence with Surrey and others. The extent of the effects of the king’s brand of humanism on the overall discourse is of course debatable, but I contest that some of the ideas of that intellectual tradition were an important factor in the evolution of Irish policy in this period as well as later in Henry’s reign. The criticisms of Maginn and Ellis are based on the assumption that arguments advocating the potency of humanist thought were limited to the ‘use, early in Henry VIII’s reign, of the word “commonwealth”, or “common wele”.’ It has been shown in Chapter 3, however, that the pedigree of humanist thought in England and Ireland extended well back into the fifteenth century, far earlier than the reign of Henry VIII. So too, the concerns of the author or compiler of the ‘State of Ireland’ went significantly beyond simple utterances of words relating to the commonweal. As demonstrated in the preceding, the same is true of the king’s correspondence with Surrey.
Maginn’s and Ellis’ definition of what constituted reform literature precludes a more comprehensive consideration of the king’s letters. Indeed, their account of the period of Surrey’s