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Machiavellianism, real and romantic, on the Elizabethan stage Ferneyhough, Beatrice Christina 1953

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MACHIAVELLIANISM REAL AND ROMANTIC ON THE ELIZABETHAN STAGE. by BEATRICE CHRISTINA PER NE YHOUGH, B.' A. A THESIS SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILMENT OP THE REQUIREMENTS POR THE DEGREE OP MASTER OP ARTS i n the Department of English We accept t h i s thesis as conforming to the standard required from candidates for the degree of MASTER OP ARTS. Members ,of the Department of English THE UNIVERSITY OP BRITISH COLUMBIA 1953 NOTE Two "Abstracts" are sent with the f i r s t copy of this thesis, the four-page one apparently the earlier, the single-page one (lacking for the second copy) an insert. Considering them to be, as i t were, Leonora and Fidelio overtures, we are retaining both. Library, U.B.C. December 4, 1953 ABSTRACT An examination of the works of Machiavelli makes clear that the sinister figure "bearing his name in the drama of Eliz a -bethan England is a caricature or romanticized version of the po l i t i c i a n discussed in The Prince. Further, a review of English history from the fifteenth to the seventeenth centuries reveals that the Tudor monarchs and their ministers were governed in their policies by the precepts for rulers outlined by Machia-v e l l i and that i n i t i a l l y the works of Machiavelli were read with interest and retained for reference by many of the leading scholars and statesmen. Denunciations of the Machiavellian thesis early arose, however, from the ranks of the Catholic reformers. The concept of the devil-possessed figure that played so prominent a part in the drama derives, i t therefore appears, not from English innocence of craft in p o l i t i c s , but from the misrepresentation of Machiavelli's thesis by the spokesmen of the Catholic counter-reformation. Picked up by p o l i t i c a l pamphleteers, this perverse and fascinating character was seized upon by the palywrights and became the prototype of p o l i t i c a l v i l l a i n y . Marlowe, the f i r s t playwright to reflect the influence of Machiavelli, explicitly offers Barabas in the Jew of Malta as a Machiavellian and a diabolical v i l l a i n ; and in Tamburlane, Faustus and Edward II gives other evidence of reaction to the prevalent interest in the theories of the Italian thinker. j The understanding of princely power as Machiavelli actually conceived i t is demonstrated by Ben Jonson i n Se.nanus and i n Catiline.. but pre-eminently by Shakespeare in his historical plays and in Coriolanus. Of the true Machiavellians on the Elizabethan stage, Richard, Duke of York, portrays hom who by his own a b i l i t i e s overcomes great odds to win power; Henry IV f u l f i l s the demands lai d upon the prince who achieves power by the aid of others and retains i t by force and cunning; and Henry V epitomizes the astute and popular prince who s k i l f u l l y enhances the power and prestige of himself and his country by his virtues both as a warrior and as a statesman. In the dialogue of Volumnia in Coriolanus is paraphrased the essence of the famous eighteenth chapter of The Prince. \ A B S T R A C T The Machiavellian v i l l a i n has long been the sub-ject of discussion among critics of the Elizabethan drama. This essay attempts to analyse with some precision evidence from history and the drama of the relationship of the literary to the real political figure. It attempts to indicate the answer to the questions: In what way does the sinister stage personality symbolize the real experience of the Elizabethans ? What is the relationship of this character to that of the prince delineated by Machiavelli ? Niccolo Machiavelli, whose name has been attach-ed to the typical sixteenth century unscrupulous and diabolically cunning cloak and dagger murderer and politician was in fact the founder of modern political science. He was a responsible and esteemed servant of the foremost city state of his time in Italy, and his theses on princely rule and on the principles underlying republican government have established themselves as texts in the courses of s >.> 'l universities. It would appear, then, that the Machia-vellian of the Elizabethan stage requires some explain-ing. An examination of the history of English govern-ment during the late fifteenth and the sixteenth cen-turies reveals that the practice of the kings and c4-chief ministers of England was governed by the precepts on power that Machiavelli so brilliantly set forth in his writings; and'investigation of the popular react-ion to the practices he exposed makes clear that i t took a sharp turn toward the close of the sixteenth century, when the bogey of Machiavellian villainy asserted Itself in England, appearing in its most spectacular form in the plays of the last two decades of that century and the f i r s t decade of the seventeenth. It becomes apparent from a consideration of the facts of history and of the record of public opinion that the Machiavellian vi l l a i n epitomized the fear of the ambitious Individual experienced by a des-potism faced on two sides by a threat to its claim to absolute power; and that the menace that threatened the Tudors from the reactionary nobility on the one hand and from the upstart merchant aristocracy on the other found dramatic expression in the extravagant, ruthless, self-seeking v i l l a i n who inevitably was characterized by the name of the theoretician of that absolute princely rule by which alone the confusions of the end of the medieval era could be resolved into a new and more advanced order of society. Such para-doxes are not unknown in history. The great dramas of Elizabethan England present not only the Machiavellian Barabas, the prototype for a l l subsequent villains in the cloak and dagger tradition, they present al so such figures as Richard, - i Duke of York, Henry IV, Henry V and the brilliant dialogue of Volumnia In Coriolanus» proofs, every one of them, that the sound political science of Machia-v e l l i upon which the Tudor monarchs built their in-stitutions and formulated their laws also reached the people through the stage, although these latter characterizations were not associated tfithc the name of Machiavelli. The conclusion arrived at from a careful exami-nation of a selected number of plays by Marlowe, Jonson and Shakespeare is that the true Machiavellian prince was most effectively represented in drama by the great princes in the historical plays of Shakespeare, and particularly in the figure of Henry V in the play of that name; and that the essence of the Machiavellian thesis on The Prince was poetically most succinctly and explicitly phrased in the dialogue of Volumnla in Coriolanus. F O R E W O R D The author wishes to make clear to the reader that this thesis i s presented as an introductory discussion of one point of view on the subject of Machiavellianism and the Elizabethan Drama. To e s t a b l i s h the argument pursued i n a f i n a l manner would require a much more exhaustive examination of the plays and h i s t o r y of Elizabethan England than i s offered here. The author hopes, however, that the reasoning i s s u f f i c i e n t l y sound and the evidence both from h i s t o r y and from drama pertinent enough to j u s t i f y t h e i r being placed before the reader for thought-f u l consideration. Perhaps I t would be wise at t h i s point also to emphasize that the writer recognizes that the estimation of the p o l i t i c a l content of a play i s but one of many l i n e s along which t h i s form of l i t e r a r y art maybe evaluated. The w r i t e r does not intend to imply that other values are not present, or that many incidents discussed for t h e i r significance i n r e l a t i o n to the thought of Machiavelli could not be evaluated i n other terms. One of the features of any great work of art i s the many angles from which i t may be discussed. C O N T E N T S Foreword  Chapter I Chapter I I  Chapter I I I  Chapter IV  Chapter V Bibliography Page Machiavellianism; An understanding of what Machiavelli r e a l l y meant..... 1 The Machiavellian i n English L i f e : An examination of English h i s t o r y fo r evidence of Machiavellian p o l i c y i n Tudor government 30 Anti-Machiavellianism: A review of the development of h o s t i l i t y i n Sixteenth Century England.toward the works of Machiavelli 66 The Romantic Interpretation: A d i s -cussion of plays that set the pattern for the Machiavellian of the romantic type 83 A demonstration that ce r t a i n E l i z a -bethan stage characters not necessarily branded as Machiavellian "hold the mirror up" to the true Machiavellian. 128 Chapter I. Machiavellianism. In a critical study of the influence of the thought of Machiavelli on Elizabethan drama, the distinction must be noted between the reactions of the Elizabethans who gave expression to their understanding of Machiavelli, and the point of view of the twentieth century commentator, ffhe study must embody the writer fs criticism both of the thought of fflaohiavelli and of the criticism revealed in the drama of the sixteenth century, for this reason, a brief summary of the point of view of Machiavelli opens the dis-cussion, and some space is devoted to an outline of the politics of the English monarchs and chief ministers of six-teenth century England, and to an examination of the opinions expressed about Machiavelli by Elizabethan writers. Thus the reader may pursue the subjeotjln possession of the writer^ understanding of the background against whioh the dramas under review were written. Machiavelli lived from 1469 to 1527. He was the son of an impoverished Tuscan nobelman of ancient lineage, whose -2-family had f o r several generations been l i v i n g i n iflorenee. Members of the family had held positions of importance and influence i n the government of the r e p b l i c of Florence; A' and over the years, the family had become i d e n t i f i e d with the c i r c l e s of the n o b i l i t y who had abandoned the claims of heredity to take up common cause with the commercial aris t o c r a c y now i n e f f e c t i v e control of Florence and the Tuscan hinterland. Aooording to Machiavelli, the struggle of the landed aristocracy to share power i n Florence was abandoned as early as 1378; since when the c o n f l i c t for power had raged among the contending merchant n o b i l i t y , and between the n o b i l i t y and the people. The issue of hereditary right to power had therefore ceased to be a v i t a l one i n Florence when Machiavelli wrote; and the problem of the ancient n o b i l i t y was to f i n d a means of adapting themselves to the conditions of a new age without too great loss of wealth and d i g n i t y . The agonies of pride s u f f e r i n g r e s t r a i n t , and the s u b t l e t i e s of the noble endeavouring to conceal the necessity for sotive p a r t i c i p a t i o n i n the struggle fo r s u r v i v a l underlay much of the p o l i t i c a l manoeuvring - 3 -of the time and the concepts and formulations of Machiavelli. What strikes this reader of Machiavelli most forcibly is his intelligence and objectivity. A mind alert, self-conscious, intensely aware and, critically, as active as a terrier is expressing itself with frankness and dignity. 1 As the dedications and introductions to 'i'he Prinoe and 2 The Discourses indicate, Machiavelli offers his work, not as an achievement, but as a tentative effort to disclose truth, as knowledge that, culled from contemporary experience, and checked against the past, may guide a prinoe, and serve the common good; as the findings of an explorer and a scientist in the field of human behaviour, public and private. Although his theses are direoted to the attention chiefly of those who do or could rule, the principles they expound are frequently referred to as applicable to the generality of men; and the work is defended on the ground that " . . . i t is the duty of an honest man to -teach others that good whioh the malignity of the times and of fortune has prevented his doing himself; so , that amongst the many capable ones whom he has instructed, some one perhaps, more favored by Heaven, may perform i t . " 3 1) Hiocolo Machiavelli, The Prinoe. ed. Hardin Craig, Chapel H i l l , The University of Horth Carolina Press, 1944, pp. xxxv-xxxvil 2) Meoolo Machiavelli, The Prinoe and The Discourses, flew York The Modern Library, Inc., 1940, Bk. I, pp. 103 - 105; Bk. II, pp. 271 - 275. 3) Ibid., Bk. II, pp. 274 - 275. The style, as one would expect, Is clear, pointed and refreshing. Balance and restraint mark the thinking and the mode of expressions; as a matter of fact, the constant reminders that in the discussion of some one particular princely career or generalized statement of policy, one must not forget that certain other modifying factors might alter the case, caution the reader that a l l generalizations are dangerous, and that the lessons of particular experiences must be applied with judgment and an eye to immediate realities. In the light of the moderate tone in which Machiavelli writes, it is difficult for a modern Canadian to.imagine how he became the prototype for the devil-possessed figure of the Elizabethan stage. The problem can be solved, however, by our understanding that the people to whom Machiavelli f i r s t exposed his thoughts were very unlike ourselves in experience and philosophy; and that Machiavelli was one of the most dar-ing and prophetic innovators of thought of the. Renaissance period in western Europe. As Lord Acton remarks in the pre-face to Burd's edition of The Prinoe. we are favored by hav-ing at our disposal "The authentic interpreter of Machiavelli - 5 -4 "the whole of l a t e r h i s t o r y " . The works of Machiavelli relevant to th i s discussion comprise The Prince, The Discourses on the Ten Books of Titus 1_ i-v to & j 3*&v4?ng- the History of Florence, The Art of War, the l e t t e r s and plays, p a r t i c u l a r l y the Mandragola. These t r e a t i s e s , l e t t e r s and plays together reveal a man of wit and singular independence of mind, but of remarkable subservience i n deed. They disclose a mind that ranged c r i t i c a l l y over every person, event, i n s t i t u t i o n and point of view that came to i t s notice; and they e s t a b l i s h M a c h i a v e l l i , secretary of Florence, as a l o y a l and deferential servant and fervent p a t r i o t . They make eWv that, although Machiavelli was an explorer and Innovator, and was fond of giving advice, he followed his own precepts and sought to please the rul e r s of his time, while he attempted to persuade them to modify t h e i r p r a c t i c e . Humble and i l l - p a i d as the p r a c t i c a l work of his l i f e was, M a c h i a v e l l i , as history has shown, was more than a com-petent c i v i l servant. The problem of government was c i r c l i n g i n his brain incessantly as he d i l i g e n t l y c a r r i e d out the orders of The Ten at home or i n foreign courts; supervised the provisioning of armed camps with scrupulous regard to 4) Mooolo Machiavelli, The Prince, ed. L. A. Burd* Introduction by Lord Acton, London, The Clarendon Press, 1891, pp. x i x - xx. -6 detail; or, as a delegate from Florence to the court of Cesare Borgia, watched and set his wits against that awe-inspiring duke. What he was looking for was the secret of stable government, and a champion who would unify Italy and set her on the road to otablo government, security and prosperity by erecting the institutions and laws that would perpetuate order. The originality of his thought for that time lay in his s t r i c t adherence to material reality, history and experience for his explanations and his judgments, his suave and untroubled acceptance of the imperfections of man and the arbitrary ways of fortune: his complete abandonment, in short, of the assumption, common in his day in most of western Europe, that the origin of government was divine w i l l , and that i t s character was hierarchical. Like a craftsman, his thought accepted the limits his material set him, and de-vised a code of p o l i t i c a l behaviour that would serve humanity as i t was. The e v i l and shifting manners of men, and the arbitrary SAC e v e ways of fortune, Machiavelli argued, wee responsible for the fact that government i t s e l f tended to fluctuate, to rise and decline; s t a b i l i t y of government, therefore, required constant - 7 -vigilance on the part of the ruler, and a readiness to change with the time. He offered, therefore, not a blue-print, but a series of principles as guides to action for the ruler who would meet a l l possible eventualities; and he was concerned less with an ultimate - except in terms of security and pros-perity for the ruler and the people - than with a modus Vivendi for the ruler with a vision of empire^than with the means by whioh order might be spread at the expense of chaos. His practical and sanguine approach was summed up in his remajkjr), that men should follow "...the example of ounninge Archers, whoe .intending to shoette att a marke that is beyonde their reache knowinge the strength of their bowe, & howe farr i t will carrye, doe take a higher compasse then otherwise woulde serve, not that they meane by that proportion to overshoote the marke, but knowinge the weakness of their bowe make shewe to shoote over, that att least they maye shoote home". 5 The core of what Machiavelli strives to express can be grasped only by a reading of a l l of his chief works, each of whioh contributes a portion of the definition he was trying to evolve from his experiences and study of government. His conclusions are made clear in the recurrence of basio ideas and observations, most of whioh are first expressed in his 5) Hiocolo Machiavelli, The Prince, ed. Hardin Craig, Ch. v i , pp. 20 - 21. - 8 -l e t t e r s , and l a t e r are expanded and i l l u s t r a t e d i n a variety of ways i n The Prince. The Discourses, and the History of  Florence. This c h a r a c t e r i s t i c of his work i s the l o g i c a l conse-quence of the circumstance i n which he developed his ideas, the source of his materials and the purpose f o r whioh he wrote. He was trained as a writer of i n t e l l i g e n c e s , or reports to The 'Jen of Florence, the body charged with m i l i -tary and foreign a f f a i r s f o r the c i t y , his r e s p o n s i b i l i t y was to give exact records of events, and to offer opinions only a f t e r he had c l e a r l y set f o r t h the f a c t s . This he did most conscientiously, as evidence i n his own l e t t e r s t e s t i -f i e s . From the court of Cesare Borgia he wrote: " Your Excellencies must hold me excused, remembering that matters cannot be guessed, and that we have to do with a prinoe who governs f o r himself, and that he who would not write dreams and vagaries, has to make sure of things, and i n making sure of them \\me goes, and I t r y to use time and not throw i t away". 6 Further, from the same court at Urbino he writes, p a t i e n t l y 6) Pasquale v i l l a r i , She L i f e and 'i'imes of M a c h i a v e l l i , Hew York, Charles Scribaers« Sons, 1929, p. 292. - 9 -explaining -" . . . t h i s l o r d never reveals anything excepting when doing i t , and he does i t under pressure of necessity, on the moment and not otherwise; where-fore I pray your Excellencies to excuse me and not charge me with negligence, when I cannot s a t i s f y your Excellencies with news, for at most times I f a i l to s a t i s f y even myself1.' 7 Exact adherence to fact was compulsory i n his work, and appears to have been native to his i n t e l l e c t * As the excerpts given here indicate Machiavelli's comments on the s i g n i f i c a n t practices of Oesare Borgia and the approaoh to events l a t e r regarded as t y p i c a l of Machiavelli found t h e i r f i r s t formulations i n the reports upon which the government of Florence depended f o r i t s p o l i c i e s . Of his powers of observation and the q u a l i t y whioh has distinguished them from those of preceding and contemp-orary I t a l i a n observers, Pasquale V i l l a r i i n his L i f e and  Times of Machiavelli notes that they enabled Machiavelli "to define the elements of the^ p o l i t i c a l force of France, . 8 or of Germany, of the King or of the Emperor" and "to discern the cohesion of s o c i a l facts i n a marvellous organic 7jPasguale V i l l a r i , The L i f e and Times of Machiavelli, New York, .Charles Scribners' Sons, 1929, p. 299. i b i d . . 8) Vol. I, p. 440 ' A -10-unity". * Machiavelli supplemented t h i s a b i l i t y with the Qu a l i t i e s of a student, and subjected his knowledge of p r a c t i c a l p o l i t i c s to an exacting comparison with that accumulated i n the records of ancient Rome, the government of whioh recommended i t s e l f to him f o r the length of time i t endured and for the extent of empire over which i t asserted power; and the conclusion he drew from t h i s comparison he organized into a system, or science, of p o l i t i c s . Machiavelli's genius, i n short, was one with that of the great men of the Renaissance i n other f i e l d s of thought, who were notable f o r t h e i r preoccupation with p r a c t i c a l a f f a i r s and t h e i r tendency to look to|nan and nature for example and to the ancients f o r guidance. Machiavelli concluded from h i s studies that the chief a t t r i b u t e of the great prinoe was knowledge of and s k i l l i n the art of war. He departed, however, from the medieval a t t i -tude toward the warrior as a sort of knight errant, and thought of him as inseparable from the statesman. The idea of the r u l e r as a f i g h t e r and law-giver was, of course, not new with M a c h i a v e l l i , but he fused the two ideas i n a new 9) 'Vol. I , p. 440 A -11 way* To him the warlike a t t r i b u t e s of the prince were use-f u l against i n t e r n a l as. wel l as external enemies, f o r re-putation at home as w e l l as abroad. In other words, the prince's capacity f o r m i l i t a r y leadership was, to Machi a v e l l i , p r i m a r i l y a p o l i t i c a l asset, f o r i t enabled him to command the l o y a l t y of his people i n both peace and war* As F. L. Taylor says, Machiavelli's outlook "...was p o l i t i c a l rather than m i l i t a r y , ..but....he recognized no opposition be-tween those two terms. He conceived the c i v i l i a n and the the same man i n two different aspects. I t was the duty of the c i t i z e n to be also the s o l d i e r ; s o l d i e r i n g was a branch of c i t i z e n s h i p and warfare...a branch of p o l i t i c s * An army was a highly s p e c i a l -ized department of the c i v i l service* The d i r e c t i o n of an army i n the f i e l d was a part of the wider business of s t a t e c r a f t " * 10 Taylor estimates the significance of t h i s approach i n the f ollowing way: "With Machiavelli war ceases to be .accepted as an i s o l a t e d phenomenon recurring at intervals throughout human history.•.He was the f i r s t of a long l i n e of writers who take a philosophical survey of the a r t of war, who study i t with a view not 10) F. L. Taylor, The Art of War i n I t a l y . 1494 - 1529, Cambridge.University.Press, 1921, p. 167. -12-so much to surprising the secret of vi c t o r y as to assessing the p o s s i -b i l i t i e s and the l i m i t a t i o n s of • armed force". 11 The great prinee with whom Machiavelli i s mainly con-cerned i s the single man through whom an order of government i s to be founded. Taking Romulus, founder of Home, as his ex-ample, Machiavelli points out that "A sagacious l e g i s l a t o r of a republic, -therefore, whose object i s to promote-the public good, and not his private i n t e r e s t s , and who prefers his country to his own successors, should-concen-trate a l l authority i n himself; and a wise mind w i l l never censure any one for having employed any extra-ordinary means for the purpose of establishing a kingdom or constitu-t i n g a republic. I t i s w e l l that, when the act accuses him, the result should excuse him; and when the r e s u l t i s good, as i n the case of Romulus, i t w i l l always absolve him from the blame." 12 Such a prince must be resolute; he must be resource^ f u l , active and decisive, irrevocable i n deoree, v i g i l a n t and fearless i n the face of attack. The resolute prinoe, how-ever, must temper severity with prudence, so that he may not alienate the support of the people, for without the support 11) 3'• L. Taylor, The Art of War i n I t a l y , p. 157. 12^ l i e e o l o M a c h i a v e l l i , The Discourses. Bk. I, pp. 138-139 -13 of the people, the prince i s at the mercy of the nobles whose ambition i s a constant threat to him, or he i s ex-posed to the attack of powerful r i v a l s from outside, The prince, as Machiavelli sees him, then, i s a single-handed champion holding i n check two mutually h o s t i l e forces within the state, the n o b i l i t y and the people. He i s obliged to be careful not to drive the n o b i l i t y to despera-t i o n by his r e s t r i c t i o n s , and at the same time he must keep the population contented. That prince, therefore, i s most secure - provided he acts with prudence - who rules through ministers and agents appointed by him and dependent upon his favor, f o r the prince then has merely to be-concerned with s a t i s f y i n g the populace by h i s ' p o l i c i e s , and that, i n Machiavelli's view, i s e a s i l y done, since the people generally want only not to be oppressed. That the ideal prince of Machiavelli looked to the people rather than to the n o b i l i t y f o r his strength i s proven by the frequency with which the favor of the people i s stressed i n both The Prince and The Discourses. 1 3 The few-ness of the n o b i l i t y , t h e i r ambition, u n r e l i a b i l i t y , s e l f -13) Hiccolo Machiavelli, The Prince. Oh. I I , pp. 4-5; C h . i l l , p. 5j Ch. IX, pp. 40-41 & 42; Ch. I , pp. 45 & 46; Ch;XVII, pp. 73.& 74; Ch. XIX, pp. 80 & 82; Ch. XX, p. 97: The-Discourses. Bk. I , Ch. XYI, -14-seeking, desire to command, and tendency to l i v e toy doing injury i s contrasted sharply with the b a s i c a l l y peaceful-and reasonable intents of the people. Further, Machiavelli notes,-the prince must always l i v e with the same people, but he may change the n o b i l i t y with which he associates, and therefore must meet the needs and expectations of the people, i'he resolute and prudent prince, therefore, according to Mach i a v e l l i , governed h i s actions p r i m a r i l y by the knowledge that without the support of the people, his p o s i t i o n was never secure The relationship the wise prince w i l l maintain with his people i s w e l l summed up by Machiavelli i n Chapter XXI of The Prince. "...a prince should encorrage his .Citizens and other subjectes, that they maye hope peaceably and q u i e t l i e to followe t h e i r trade, whether i t be i n merchandize or i n t i l l a g e , or i n any other trade, least the one sorte f o r feare of spoylinge should leave the grownde u n t i l l e d and the the other i n dowbte of newe exact-ions and oustomes, shoulde bringe i n noe newe wares: But rather a good prince shoulde propose rewardes to those that d i l l i g e n t l i e followe these trades, or anie other, whereby -15 the Oittyes or.contry may be enriched. Alaoe att the appointed tymes of the yeare l e t t him keape the peoples headea ocoupyed with playes, and shewes. And whereas the Oittyes are devided into certeine Companies aceor-dinge to t h e i r trades, and oocupacions, the prince ahoulde haue those companies i n estimation and rekoninge, that shoalde soomtyme be conversante emonge them, and shewe them soome token of his Courtesy and favour. Prov+vided alwayes that he preserve and s t i l l mayntaine the maiestie of his estate, whieh i n noe wise, or anie cause ought to be omitted or neglected". iST !H F i n a l l y , the great prinoe must be a man of foresight; he must look not merely to the present, but to the future; f o r , i n Machiavelli's view, the prince i s not a mere adven-turer, not one seeking power f o r the sake of temporary glory, or private gain. He i s the architect of law and order i n the community. Machiavelli argues "The welfare, then, of a republic or .-a kingdom does not consist i n having a prinoe who governs i t wisely during his l i f e t i m e , but i n having one who w i l l give i t suoh laws that i t w i l l maintain i t s e l f a fter his death". 15 The question, therefore, of the foundations upon which the power of the prince i s l a i d , i s discussed i n terms of the establishment of a p r i n c i p a l i t y that w i l l stand, p r e v a i l and expand, not only for the l i f e t i m e of the prinoe who 15) The Discourses. Bk. I , Ch. x i , p. 148 -16-i n i t i a t e s i t , but i n d e f i n i t e l y . The instruments of the great prince, i n t h i s concep-t i o n , are r e l i g i o n , armed forces, laws and a j u d i c i a r y , and the organized support of the people. The source of the armed forces of the Machiavellian great prince, i s , as has been indicated, the c i t i z e n s of his own p r i n c i p a l i t y , who by being entrusted with arms, are, by t h i s proof of the prince's confidence, encouraged i n t h e i r l o y a l t y . I t i s clear that only a man who can command the admiration of the people as a warrior oan act i n t h i s manner with assurance. The laws of the wise prince are designed to safeguard his own estate and benefit the people; and the j u d i c i a r y must be appointed and dependent f o r t h e i r p o s i t i o n upon the prince's favor. R e l i g i o n , the importance of whioh Machiavelli frequently emphasized^ as indispensable to order and good government, i s discussed as a creation of man's i n -genuity, and the founders of r e l i g i o n s are ext o l l e d as the 16 f i r s t amongst great men. Religion i s indispensable, and the appearance of r e l i g i o u s f a i t h i n a r u l e r i s invaluable because without i t s appeal to supe r s t i t i o n the obedience of 16) The Discourses. Bk. I , Ch. X, p. 141 the people might not always be assured, or their readiness to sacrifioe aroused as occasion required. Machiavelli, therefore, discussed religion in a tone of deep respect, but at a l l times as a political expedient. On the question of the hereditary right .to rule Machiavelli was realistic and rational. While he recognised the advantages of a prince's being able to present ti t l e by birth to reinforoe his claim to power and observed that a prince who has secured power by his own ability will be wise i f he "shall seeme as though he came by the estate by anoiente inheritaunoe..." 1 - 7, he nevertheless points out that men "...observe with greater regarde the -prooeedinges of such princes", I.e. those who assert power by ability, "than of those that succeede their parentes in their kingdomes, and yf they haue as good s k i l l to governe, as to gett, they may winne the heartes of the People sooner by desertes and pleasure, then the other by disoentes pedigrees, and continue their loves longer by the authoritie of their lawes, then the other can doe by the antiquitie of their lynes, for men are oarried awaye rather with thinges that are presents, then with those that are paste, and fyndinge in i t a commoditie, they content themselves and seeke noe farther, but will under-17) The Prince. XXIV, 108 ••18-take anie daynger in defence of their princes safetie..." 18 The concept of the great ruler in action is then summed up in the famour metaphor of the lion and the fox. Having conceded the value of legal institutions and the trappings of power such as religion and spectacle as means of exercis-ing control over men, Machiavelli sees as the decisive asset of a ruler the possession of the qualities of beasts, courage and cunning, a oapaoity to wield force and perpetrate fraud; "...for seinge there is twoe kyndes of con-sent ion or stryffe, the one by lawe the other by force, the fi r s t proper to men, the later to beastes, men must haue re-ooorse for redresse to the later, yf they cannot recover their righte by the f i r s t . Therefore i t t is verie neoessarie for a prince to knowe as well howe to use the foroe and subtilty of beastes, as the faythe and sincerenes of men,...." 19 Within this general understanding of the character and function of political power Maohiavelli examined the pro-blems of princes weak and strong, new and hereditary, great and inglorious. Political power, he noted, may be personal, corporate or communal; it may, that i s , be princely, e l i -garohio or democratic; but i f i t is to be effective, i f i t 18) The Prince, XXIV, 108 19) The Prince. Ch. XVIII, pp. 74 - 75. -19 is to bring security and greatness to the ruler and the ruled, i t must be able to seize or outwit where i t meets denial, and win by art or intimidation where i t encounters reluctance. The individual princes whom Machiavelli cited as ex-amples were put forward as persons who f u l f i l l e d or failed to f u l f i l the requirements for greatness in a prinoe, or as illustrations of how a prinoe should or should not act in given circumstances. Romulus, Moses, Cyrus and Theseus demon-strated, according to Machiavelli, the careers of men of out-standing merit. By virtue of their own greatness and the opportunity whioh alone fortune gave them, they succeeded, after overcoming tremendous obstacles, in winning power and establishing principalities in whioh they made themselves se-cure and rich, and in which they enjoyed the favor of their people. Agathocles and Oliverotto da Fermo represented, on the other hand, those who attain power by villainy and who, therefore, cannot, in spite of their great abilities, be numbered among the most famous men. Cesare Borgia, erroneous-ly seized upon by many as the typical Machiavellian prince, was cited by Machiavelli as a prinoe, who, having been raised to power by the favor and influence of others, did everything -20-that should or oould have been done, to consolidate power in . most difficult circumstances. In Machiavelli's understand-ing only a man of rare genius oould be expected to take hold upon a principality that was contrived for him by others, he having had l i t t l e to do with achieving i t , and being, there-fore, without previous plans for government, without the ex-perience in commanding and ordering that comes with winning power oneself, and without prior support either of an army or of people whose lpyalty had been won by reputation already established. %® Once set upon his career, however, Borgia demonstrated those qualities of quick action, ruthlessness, cunning and daring, and Intelligent concern for the common welfare, whioh Machiavelli regarded as indispensable to a good ruler. Francesco Sforza, by contrast, Machiavelli brought forward as a private man who won his principality with great difficulty but retained i t with ease; as one who "usinge meanes requisite for soe greate .an enterprise, by singular vertue ad-vanced him self to be duke of Millaine, and was hable to defende that with saalle coste, which he had gotten with great care." 21 20) The Prince. VII, p. 26 21) The Prince. VII, p. 26 21-Altogether, the arguments of.The Prince, The Discourses and the History of Florenoe make clear the distinctive roles of the prince, the laws and customs, the armed forces and the citizens in a sixteenth century community. The Prinoe, even carelessly read, could not lead one to believe that Machia-velli's principles of power were composed by one who was in-different to the reaction of the subject to the Jmler, or con-queror; much less can The Prince be seen as the inspiration for the perverse villainy which motivates the characters of 22 the English drama that have been classed as Machiavellian, The evil-intentioned, headstrong, murderous and useless indi-vidual of the English stage, preoccupied exclusively with re-venge and personal aggrandizement to the detriment of a l l , has nothing in common with the prince of Machiavelli^ treatise, except that he k i l l s and acquires as occasion demands in order to achieve his ends. The ends of the prince of the treatises of Machiavelli, however, who is dubbed wise or great, and who is held up as an example, must at least appear to be acceptable to the majority of the people, conform to, or at least not be obviously subersive of law and custom, and advance the power 22) Edward Meyer, Machiavelli and the Elizabethan Drama, Weimar, Verlag Von Emil Pelber, 1897, discusses these in detail and Jeannette Fellheimer, The Englishman's Conception of the Thesis 1935 devotes considerable space to a discussion of the stage Machiavellian, -22-and wealth of the community as well as the private estate of the prince* The true prinoe of Machiavelli, in short, is a warrior and a man of talent. He is resolute, self-reliant, objective and restrained*. He manages judiciously the vices and virtues to whioh a l l men, including princes, are heir, so that he may secure himself and his possessions against open or concealed -attack; and may enlist the support of the majority of the people about him, through either fear or gratitude* The man, however, Machiavelli pointed out, eannot be separated from his environment, which must offer opportunity for his talents* Because of this close interdependence of man and environment, Machiavelli noted, a prince may, after enjoying i n i t i a l success, succumb to disaster, because of his inability to change his nature when conditions change* The wise prince, therefore, enacts laws and establishes institu-tions devised to cope with the vagaries of men and the alterat-ions of fortune; and he rules, not arbitrarily, but in con-formity to the law thus established* Since, however, amongst men, there are always a few who aspire to command, the prince is faced with the problem of steering a fiddle course between 23-the mutual hatred of the common people, who want only to avoid oppression, and the few nobility, who desire to oppress. In the complexity of this reality, Machiavelli despaired of perfect government, and concluded: n I say,then, that a l l kinds of government - are defective,..Thus sagacious legisla-tors, knowing the vices of each.of these systems of government fey (monarchy, o l i -garchy, democracy) have chosen one that should partake of a l l of them....In fact, when , there ia combined under the same consti-tution a prinoe, a nobility, and the power of the people, then these three powers will watch and keep each other re-ciprocally in check"• 23 Because Machiavelli believed that a l l men, including 24 ^ princes, were evil, that "this maybe boldlie sayde of men, that they are ungratefull, inoonstante, disoemblers, fearfull 25 of dayngers, covetous of gayne," he was regretfully com-pelled, in the interests of truth and the needs of practice,-to state that deeeit, cruelty, bad faith have their place in the ordering of a state. He admits: "Surelie yf men were good this precepte -were naught, yf they were honest this were hatefull. But seinge they are . wicked and deceiptfull, i t behoves a prinoe by discemblinge to meete with their malice, and by ounninge to over-throwe their Grafte. And nowe a prinoe can never wante oocasions to oollour 23) The Discourses. I, pp. 114 - 115. 24) ibid. pp. 117 - 118. 25) 13SB. iVIII, p. 75 -24-the breache of his promise V. The precise weighing of the amount of goodness and bad-ness, of cruelty and kindness, of,sincerity and deeeitfulness, of virtue and viee.generally to which a prince must give him-self is, in Maohiavelli's view, then, a necessity which springs from the innate evil in the nature of men, including princes. This, together with the uncertainties of fortune, f i l l s the l i f e of men with danger, and confronts those who would esta-blish any kind of order with endless difficulties, and may Baffle even the wisest counsel. Machiavelli, therefore warns "...lett noe man be perswaded that he can -take soe sure counsell that he cannot be controlled, but rather thinoke that he may be deoeaved, for soe variable is the , coorse of worldlle affaires, that the more a man seekes to exoape one dainger, the lykker he f a l l into :an other, but herein is a mans wisdome seene, yf he be able of twoe evilles to choose the least, and oan reape some commodity owt of anie inconvenience"• 27 According to Machiavelli, a l l men desire glory and pa riches, or "renowme royallties and the lyke" fc0t as the six-teenth century manuscript edition of The Prinoe phrases i t . A l l men desire to acquire and to possess, though some by 26) The Prinoe. XVIII. P. 75 27) Ibid.. XXI, p. 10E 28) Ibid. XXV, p. 112 - 2 5 -their a b i l i t i e s and resolution are more successful than others. A man distinguishes himself from the common man, therefore, Machiavelli believes, by his vision and energy: his capacity is greater? his achievement, therefore, is greater, and his renown, or nobility varies as the extent of his estate and the security with which he holds i t . The contemplative l i f e , ««? preoccupation with the arts, according to Machiavelli, are alternatives to a life, of action, and are forced upon an individual by the malignity of fortune. He himself wrote out his theories of government only when exile forced him out of active p o l i t i c a l l i f e . In j u s t i f i c a -tion, for example, of his own writings he deolared that one should teach others what by bad fortune one had not been able to undertake oneself, in the hope that among one's pupils might be he who would accomplish that whioh fortune and the times made impossible to oneself. That he did not despise the arts or learning is clear from his own studies and his own careful expositions of the arts of war and p o l i t i c s ; from his composition of plays and poetry, and from his exhorta-tions to the princes to study and to learn from the examples of the great. His standards, however, were inevitably the -26-standards of h i s time; and i n the f i e l d o f p u b l i c l i f e w i t h which he was c h i e f l y concerned these standards were those of the c o n s t r u c t i o n of the modern n a t i o n a l s t a t e , and the open-ing of the e r a of i n d i v i d u a l i n t e r p r i s e , e m p i r e - b u i l d i n g and conquest. Concerned w i t h men, s m a l l and g r e a t , i n t h e i r s t r u g g l e f o r s u r v i v a l , M a c h i a v e l l i was p r e o c c u p i e d w i t h a c t i o n s and t h e i r e f f e c t s . To him, the p r i n c e was simply the n a t u r a l man endowed w i t h v i r t u e , t h a t i s , w i t h uncommon energy, i n i t i a t i v e , r e s o u r c e f u l n e s s and c l a r i t y of aim, G l o r y and fame, r e p u t a t i o n and honour were sought by h i s p r i n o e as reinforcements of h i s power, as props to h i s e s t a t e , Sueh a man as h i s p r i n c e , de-s i r i n g t o be l i s t e d among the g r e a t and the famous, would i n -dulge h i s energy i n a manner t h a t would win aggrandizement without a l i e n a t i n g the community, without doing more harm to o t h e r s than was n e c e s s a r y to guarantee h i s own w e a l t h and s e c u r i t y . In t h i s c o n c e p t i o n i t i s not s u r p r i s i n g t h a t the mark of the weak p r i n c e s h o u l d be i n c a p a c i t y to make war, i n d e c i s -i o n , i r r e s o l u t i o n , mildness and p i t y , and a tendency to d e f e r to the o p i n i o n s of o t h e r s ; or that the c o r r u p t p r i n o e s h o u l d -27-be he who s a c r i f i c e d publio welfare to his own private advance-ment, or, i n other words, f a i l e d to l i n k his own fortunes to those of the community; while the tyrant should be one who ignored the demands of a l l but himself, and who, earning the hatred of the people, was doomed himself. She emphasis whioh Machiavelli placed on native a b i l i t y as the mark of the great man l e d him to a o r i t i c a l attitude to-ward hereditary monarchy. He valued v i r t u e , and he observed that vittue seldom continued i n a family by descent. He was. therefore, andadvocate of republicanism, rather than of mon-archy; and his prince was the founder of a state the continued existence of whioh presupposed that i t s i n i t i a t o r organized i t along l i n e s that would enable i t to select f o r leadership a man worthy of the post. Time and again Machiavelli expressed his lack of f a i t h i n hereditary monarchy as a. means of guaran-teeing good r u l e r s . 2 9 He saw, indeed, i n the prinoe the a r c h i -es tekt of state power, and the single man who alone could restore a corrupt state to order and good government through h i s seizure of absolute power; but f o r the perpetuation of great-ness i n a state, for national aggrandizement, he advocated re-29) The Discourses. I, i , 144; I, XVII, 165; I,XX, 174 f. - - --28-publieanism. The ruthlessness and cold-bloodedness of which Machia-v e l l i has frequently been, aceused are the ruthlessness and oold-bloddedness of the practice"of his times. Ho one can read the Intelligences and h i s t o r i e s of the renaissance with-out being impressed by the violence and implacable self-seek-, ing of the n o b i l i t y , old and new, and of the privateering adventurers both on land and sea, who flourished i n those turbulent times. Hor can one f a i l to be impressed by the frequency with which prinoely r u l e r s brought disaster upon • themselves and the people of t h e i r land by t h e i r malevolence or i r r a t i o n a l s e l f - w i l l . A warning and a c a l l to judgment, such as Machiavelli voiced was timely; but i n I t a l y i t wa,s not heeded. This l i t t l e man,, t h i s c l e r k , who presumed to advise the great oould not have been.less t y p i c a l of the a c q u i s i t i v e man, He oould appreciate but he did not possess any of the q u a l i t i e s he regarded as ess e n t i a l to the r u l e r . Shrewd as was his summing up of the techniques of acquiring p o s i t i o n . ~ and power, he resorted, when he himself was i n want, to the -naive appeals for help from his fri e n d s ; or he wrote, humbly -29-offering his services, to princes^ from whom he hoped to receive recognition for his abilities and promotion to em-ployment. He seems never to have been bribed or corrupted in any way in his public l i f e . He appears in his own person, indeed, to have been an example and the prophet of the patriotic c i v i l servant who is more than a servant and less -than a ruler, and is wholly loyal to his native state. His forerunners were the modestly paid ambassadors of merchant princesj who presented themselves at the courts of a l l principalities and republics, and whose minutely detailed and objective reports of a l l that went on provided the raw material from whioh he organized his political science. The quality peculiar to Machiavelli and his predecessors and contemporaries, the Italian envoys, was the* ability to treat themselves as persons apart from the realities in whioh they moved; and, in the midst of violence, to remain suave and unruffled, incorruptible in oommeroe with the corrupt, and loyal to the prosperity of the state they served. Such were Machiavelli and the prince and science he conceived. - 3 0 -Chapter II The Machiavellian in English Life, Looking back on sixteenth century England one is led to ask what i t was in the l i f e of England at that time that inspired certain poets to conceive of the Machiavellian prince as a perverse villain, and i f , as the stage characters suggest, Machiavellianism was wholly foreign to thoir own experience and standards of practice. This enquirer would also ask i f there might not be in the plays of Elizabethan England characters which demonstrate the qualities of the true prince^ according to Machiavelli, but which for some reason have not been labelled Machiavellian. Machiavellianism, as ftefined in Chapter I of this thesis, i t is submitted, not only was not alien to English experience, but was the very substance of the polioies of the Tudor monarohs and of many of the ministers who served them. Its interpretation of the prince as innovator, for •3.1-exaraple, was typified by Henry VII and Henry VIII; and its conception of the triumphant and sagacious prinoe found its fulfilment in Elizabeth* These Tudor monarchsjsuccessfully organized the tran-sition of political power in England from the hands of the anoient feudal nobility to those of the merchant aristocracy who arose to prominence as England's commerce and sea power advanced. They effected the change not as a conscious ob-jective but as a by-product of their own pursuit of power and wealth; and the power they wielded was that of popular despots, or Machiavellian princes. The opportunity for the Tudors oame with the exhaust-ion of the patience and endurance of the English people by the persistent, petty battles of the English nobility over the orown, known as the Wars of the Roses. Henry Tudor, Earl of Riohmond brought these wars to an end by his viotory at Bosworth in 1485. Many of the former great nobility of of England were dead and the remainder were demoralized and disunited. The people were anxious for peaoe and for relief from the financial demands of war; and they rallied to the new king hopefully. Henry VII did not disappoint them. 32 As a young prinoe with a slim olaim to the throne of England by blood, Henry VII had spent his youth in constant peril of being seized and destroyed by rival families. Suspicion, treachery and deeds of blood had surrounded him; so that he had learned young to be alert, wary and self-reliant, to trust himself and to adt with oaution. Taken from Wales to Brittany for safety when Henry VI of Lancaster was hard-pressed by the contending Yorkists, under Edward IV, Henry Tudor waited there until the violence and excesses of the usurper, Richard III, so alienated the people of England from the Yorkist l i n e ^ that a new claimant for the throne might hope for success* Henry1s first attempt to land in England was a failure in whioh Machiavelli would have seen fortune playing a major part, Henry's ship was isolated from its fleet, and floods and storms out off the advance of the chief force of English supporters under Buckingham, sent out to greet and aid his landing. But Henry's astuteness would have recommended i t -self to Machiavelli when he refused to be beguiled by a band of Englishmen apparently welcoming him as his ship sighted shore a second time. He would not risk going ashore, and returned safely to Brittany, -33* In this f i r s t attempt Henry had proven himself w i l l -ing and able Wiead an army overseas in an effort to make a difficult landing in territory ruled by a hostile power. He had demonstrated judgment and caution, a readiness to faoe realities, and a spirit undismayed by heavy reverses. On the occasion of his seoond attempt, he displayed further qualities that would have recommended him to Machiavelli, Convinced of his danger, and at the same time confident of support in England, he kept his own oounsel and slipped away from Brittany without public knowledge, leaving three hundred Englishmen in Vannes ignorant of his departure. He landed at Milford Haven in his native Wales with a small foroe, and advanced into England to Bosworth, winning new adherents to his ranks as he went along. He made a solemn pageant of his landing, kneeling and kissing the ground, making the sign of the oross and causing the Judica me. Deus. to be sung. At Bosworth he himself ohose the ground for battle; i t lay between a rivulet and a morass where inferior members oould fight to advantage. This courageous and astute young man appeared to be one of those of whom Machiavelli might have said: - 3 4 -".. .examininge t h e i r noble actes withlTU wholle coorse of t h e i r l i v e s , i t w i l l appere that they had nothinge given them by the favour of fortune, but only occasion whioh yelded them f i t t matter whereby they might bringe i n what manner of government they thought oonveniente". 1 The immediacy with whioh Henry had turned to his seoond attempt, and the independence of his action showed that he was not a man to wait on time to improve things for him, but was one who could use his own resources to meet the d i f f i c u l t i e s of the present. Thus as Henry took the throne of England, he was a man who had shown himself a good s o l d i e r and able oommander, learned i n the art of war. He c l e a r l y r e l i e d upon the general populaee for support; and he made every profession of r e l i g i o u s devotion and did not communicate his plans more than was neoessary f o r t h e i r exeoution. In a l l t h i s he would have won the admiration of the founder of p o l i t i c a l science. Henry, thanks mostly to his own a b i l i t y , entered upon the tasks of government with great advantages. A prinoe by b i r t h , with claim to the throne, he won his kingdom i n war, and was crowned on the f i e l d of b a t t l e . He was a hero to his men-atrarms and a dispenser of favors 1) The Prince, VI, 21-2E 2) Ibid, i l l , 11. -35-to his loyal supporters. It remained for him to demon-strate his capacities as a ruler. The steps he took to consolidate his rule were care-fully chosen to take advantage of existing laws and customs whioh oould be turned to his purpose, to confirm his legitr imate claim to the throne and to subordinate the administra-r tion of the realm directly to his authority. First he set about the seouring of his t i t l e by law and hereditary right; and he pursued this aim in such a manner that each civilian confirmation strengthened his claim made in the name of heredity. Never was his l e g i t i -macy subordinated to a right conceded from any other quarter or on any other condition. In this he was adhering with scrupulous exaotitude to the principle, emphasized by Machiavelli, that a new prince should as much as possible conform, at least in appearance, to the laws and customs of the people of his new principality. Even the ultimate confirmation of Henry's claim, that of the Act of Parliament of November 7th, 1485, recognized his reign as dating from the twenty-first of August, the day before the battle of 3) The Discourses. I XXV, 182 -36-Bosworth. Further to bind his power to descent, the new prinoe proposed to marry into the family of the contending house of York, and thus, by uniting the blood of the two claimants to end the danger of conflict arising from a rival claim. He therefore imprisoned the sole heir of the" Yorkists, Clarence, for l i f e ; and announced his intended marriage to Elizabeth of York. Seeking to impress and win the favor of the populace, he now proceeded in easy stages to London, The City and very heart of England, where he rode In triumph through the streets. His progress through the country and his recep-tion in London were applauded by the people with greatest enthusiasm. Shortly after his arrival in London he called a council of the nobles and formally proclaimed his intended marriage; and then, in spite of an outbreak of plague, held his coronation as scheduled, before his wedding. As he advanced in security, he rewarded his immediate followers, 4 out of the spoils of his adversaries, he instituted a body-guard of f i f t y men, archers and others, constantly to 4) The Prince, XVI, 70 -37-attend him* He then called parliament and had his title confirmed in him and in the heirs of his body* In these actions Henry observed a member of maxima that Machia-v e l l i would have applauded* His insistence upon reoogni-5 tion of power as centering in and flowing from himself, and his use of established institutions and laws to this end, the organization of the nucleus of an armed force of his own subjects, identified with a l l his movements, his deliberate encouragement of public display of the people's favor toward him as he travelled slowly through his new territories meeting the people, would a l l have won the approbation of Machiavelli. Later, in an even more pre-else conformity to the princely behavioug advocated by Machiavelli, he went through those counties where uprisings against him had either taken place or were threatening; and whenever he encountered hostility, he made a great show of foroe; where outbreaks had taken place he had the leaders only summarily executed, and where the people were humble he was graoiousness itself to a l l . Nor did he over-Si The Discourses, I IX, 138 and 140-141. -38-look paying s p e c i a l attention to the guildsmen of the chief trades. Of t h i s t r i p i t i s t o l d that he showed great interest i n and promised p r a c t i c a l a i d to the B r i s t o l ship-b u i l d e r s , i h i l e he showed clemency to the common people, and ruthless j u s t i c e to t h e i r misleaders against himself, he systematically impoverished his opponents among the n o b i l i t y by land seizures. In t h i s way, he maintained himself, was i n a p o s i t i o n to reward his supporters, and was not required to burden his new subjects with taxation and imposts, 7 He further made a scrupulous point of establishing his credit with Parliament and the merchant leaders of London, by per-suading them on several occasions to loan him money, which each time he paid back promptly, according to agreement. Parliament, which he had used s k i l f u l l y as a means of confirming his royal power, he now employed, with an insight worthy of Ma c h i a v e l l i , as the instrument for punishment of the leaders of r e b e l l i o n sponsored by the Yorkist Queen-dowager and led by the impostor, Lambert Simnel, Upon 6} The Prinoe, XXI, 85 7) I b i d , XVI, 69 70 -39-Henry's summons Parliament met and attainted the leaders, and passed measures designed to provide special organs for the punishment of crimes and misdemeanors against the king, one of which was the Court of Star Chamber* By these means Henry set up institutions and persons other than himself as the media of punishment, reserving to himself the power of o bestowing benefits, as Machiavelli recommends* Henry exercised his power ruthlessly, but with pru-dence. When the revolt fanned by the Yorkists and led by Lambert Simnel was reaching the proportions of oi v i l war, he acted with despatch* He deprived the Queen-dowager of her lands; paraded the real Warwick publicly,, issued a pardon to a l l who would submit to him; set guards throughout the coast, and himself made a progress through the insurrection-ary counties* When he learned that the Earl of Dorset, one of his most powerful opponentsj was coming in to surrender, he sent out forces and had him seized* In the course of these activities he made public and ceremonious show of his religion, had the Church officially curse a l l who opposed him, and as 8) The Prince. XIX, 82 - 83. -40-the c i v i l war gathered head "..•issued a very stringent pro-clamation against robbing churches, ravishing women, or even taking v i c t u a l s without paying f o r them at the prices 'assized by the clerk of the market', on pain of death. Mor was any man to venture to take a lodging f o r himself not assigned to him by the king's harbingers, oh pain of imprison-ment and further punishment at the king's d i s c r e t i o n . The s t r i c t e s t d i s c i p l i n e was enforced throughout the army..." 9 In a l l t h i s he honored the maxim which i s summed up i n chapter seventeen of The Prinoe i n the quotation from V i r g i l -Res dura, et regni novitas me t a l i a o o gunt/koliri, et l a t e fines oustode t u e r i . The warrior prinoe showed himself as statesman resolute and decisive i n action, a good executive served by e f f i c i e n t m i l i t a r y agents, and a leader ready to appear personally i n the areas of danger. In his handling of the E a r l of Dorset, he showed himself the prince of the eighteenth chapter of The Prince, who keeps hi s word only insofar as i t serves his own i n t e r e s t , and as longas the occasion for whioh he made 9) James Gairdner, Henry VII, London, MaoMillan and Co., 1892 -41-the agreement remains. He ostentatiously i d e n t i f i e d his rule with r e l i g i o n , ^ showed that he understood that to r e t a i n or win the allegiance of the people he must guarantee them against loss of t h e i r property or harm to t h e i r women, 1 1 and centered authority i n himself, making his name the symbol of 12 power and j u s t i c e . And as a commander he had shown him-s e l f ready and able to enforce d i s c i p l i n e . Machiavelli i n discussing the methods a prince should use to r e t a i n control of a p r i n c i p a l i t y annexed to his own, but d i f f e r e n t i n language and custom, argued that the prince should, i f possible, reside there himself; but that i f he could no* he should plant colonies and organize a government there of his own subjeots or of such native people as he could make de-pendent upon himself f o r benefits and p o s i t i o n . In Ireland, following the attempt of Simnel to gain the crown* Henry VII undertook to make the whole administration d i r e c t l y responsible to himself, and predominantly English i n personnel. He therefore arranged that a l l the p r i n c i p a l castles i n Ireland should be placed i n the hands of the English, and 10) The Prince. XVIII, 77 11) I b i d . X V i l , 73. 12) G. M. Trevelyan, Histpry of England.London, Longmans, , Green & Co., 1929, pp. 273 - 275 gives a good summary of Henry V I I 1 s measures directed toward c e n t r a l i z i n g power i n England i n the monarch. 13) The Prince, I I I , 7 - 8 . r ; • - ... ^42 that the country should no longer, be a refuge f o r English out-casts and malcontents. He allowed the I r i s h chief, K i l d a r e , to return to Ireland as the King's Deputy, but he held his son i n England as a hostage. In his I r i s h p o l i c y Henry was the master p o l i t i c i a n , as Machiavelli would-have esteemed him: s k i l f u l , a f f a b l e , resolute, achieving by his own agencies^ what he could not win with the consent of the subordinate people, yet contriving, by the judicious treatment of d i f f i c u l t but indispensable persons, to render them useful to him i n spite of themselves; clement, as circumstances required, c r u e l , when necessity dictated. The o b j e c t i v i t y and c l a r i t y of purpose that underlay Henry's p o l i c i e s produced an effectiveness i n action which would have delighted Maohiavelli, C l e a r l y , i t was Henry's object to unify and rule England as an absolute monarch, as i t was Maohiavelli's dream that the Medici should unify and rule I t a l y , To do t h i s , as Machiavelli would have seen i t , Henry had to crush his opposition among the n o b i l i t y , and win the people to his side. To r u l e , also, he needed revenue; and he wished to raise M i s needed revenue for his own treasury with-14 out appeal to the people, as Machiavelli would have advised. 14) The Prinoe. x Y l , 69 - 76 : ~" : : ! -43-Henry therefore appealed not to the people f o r revenue, but to the Great Council of the nobles^^j/yho^indeed, were now i n no po s i t i o n to r e s i s t his demands; and through them he secured a r e v i v a l of Benevolences, or forced loans, equivalent to donations. In i n s t r u c t i n g h i s commissioners, he urged them, as Bacon, i n his l i f e of Henry V l l l r e p o r t s : "..•'that i f they met any that were sparing -they should t e l l them that they must needs have, because they l a i d up; and i f they were spenders they must needs have, because i t was seen i n t h e i r port and manner of l i v i n g ; so neither kind came amiss' ". 15 Trapped by the king's subt£]jty, the nobles were fleeced. Henry, however, was c a r e f u l , as Machiavelli would have advised, not to drive any one section of his diverse population too f a r . Though his two chief commissioners, S i r Richard Empson and Lord Dudley might make his rule hated f o r t h e i r extortions, Henry eased the mind of many a noble by promoting i n parliament an act to protect from impeachment or attainder any one who fought for a de facto king; and thus he exonerated a l l who had fought for Richard I I I before Bosworth. His mastery of compromise i s i l l u s t r a t e d i n his l e g i s l a t i o n on enclosures, which required that no dwellings be b'orn down, but said nothing 15) Quoted i n Gairdner, Henry VII. p. 151 -44-about the neeeaaity for c u l t i v a t i o n of the land; the owners, therefore, could turn sheep on the land, and the peasants could not complain that they were rendered homeless. By p o l i c i e s , then, that would have found f u l l favor with Machiavelli, Henry VII of England, within ten years of h i s a c q u i s i t i o n of the throne, established himself as the most power-f u l i n d i v i d u a l i n the land, and was r a p i d l y becoming the wealth-i e s t , This he had achieved by combining force and a subtle mani-pulation of law and custom. He respected t r a d i t i o n as long as i t served his purpose, and timed his changes to take advantage of the c o n f l i c t between the nobles and the people i n a manner that suppressed the former and c o n c i l i a t e d the l a t t e r ; and he pur-sued a c a r e f u l f i n a n c i a l p o l i c y which strengthened his own treasury and won the favor of the people. In foreign p o l i c y also, Henry's career honored the p r i n -c i p l e s enunciated by M a c h i a v e l l i , Early i n his reign, i n 1492, he undertook a war with France both to win reputation with the 16 English and to compel fear and respect from a r i v a l power. He launched the war, therefore, on a l i m i t e d scale and with no 16) The Prince, XXI, 98 - 100 -45--intention of conquering France; and, having impressed France., r benefitted the Emperor Maximilian, and freed English commerce with the Low Countries from molestation by Spain, he enriched himself by exacting the largest tribute from France that any English king had ever received. The conduct and timing of t h i s war revealed Henry's appreciation of the value of m i l i t a r y reputation and of the p r i n c i p l e of the balance of power, em-. 17 phasized by M a c h i a v e l l i . In the course of his long reign (1485 - 1509) Henry was confronted on more than one occasion by conspiracies against him, and took a hand himself i n promoting conspiracies i n the. courts of other princes* His handling of the major conspiracy of the Yorkists i n aid of the claim of the imposter, Perkin 18 Warbeok, followed the course Machiavelli advocated* He pretended to take no notice of the conspiracy and allowed i t to ripen before he appeared to act.- Then he showed himself to be. so w e l l informed that he was able to expose the foremost leaders, including his own chamberlain, Lord Stanley, a r e l a t i v e . »He was ruthless i n his punishment, even executing Lord Stanley, and 17) The P r i n c e . I I I . 9 ; and"XII, 102. 18) The Prinoe. vt££: TU* Discourses. 1?kTE,vi. - 4 6 -causing anyone who l i b e l l e d , him for. the act to be punished. In t h i s way Henry strengthened his prestige and won many Yorkists away from further thought of i n t r i g u e . Meanwhile Henry had hi s hand i n conspiracies of his own. In Scotland the E a r l of Angus and Lord Bothwell, the l a t t e r a f a v o r i t e minister of James III, were his agents. He had himself arranged a plot to kidnap warbeck. He r e l i e d not upon rumor or treachery, but upon paid spies and informers for his information; he contrived to place d i r e c t l y under oblig a t i o n to him, a l l people on whom he depended; and he was so continuously watchful that a l l who had anything to lose by a misstep were oareful to support his government. His s o foreign a l l i e s , also, commonly found themselves X&- s k i l f u l l y hemmed i n by circumstances created by Henry that they had l i t t l e a l ternative but to do as his p o l i c y dictated. He used hostages to keep men l i k e Lord Kildare of Ireland i n l i n e , and to r e i n the a c t i v i t i e s of monarchs l i k e Ferdinand of Spain, whose daughter, Katherine, Henry held i n England a f t e r her f i r s t husband, Arthur, Prince of Wales, died. The f o r t i -A c a s t l e s which he maintained as outposts, and centres of i n -t e l l i g e n c e , i n the remoter parts of his kingdom he placed i n - 4 7 -the hands of nobles d i r e c t l y responsible to himself and depen-dent upon him for t h e i r p o s i t i o n . This system of spies and personal supervision of a f f a i r s , active and aggressive, which was not merely watchful but went out to f o r e s t a l l possible danger and to create opportunity, wae wholly i n the s p i r i t of the Machiavellian true prinee. James (iairdner, h i s t o r i a n and biographer of Henry VII summed up his q u a l i t i e s . i n a paragraph as follows: "His taste i n building was magnificent. .The wealth he had amassed and l e f t be-hind him, locked up i n various secret places, was reported to have amounted to nearly 1,800,000 pounds (value of that day)...He valued money only f o r money's worth; and to him a large reserve was a great guarantee for peace and s e c u r i t y . He made, moreover, a princely use of his wealth, encouraged scholarship and music as w e l l as architecture, and dazzled the eyes of foreign ambassadors with the splendour of his receptions Few indeed were the councillors that shared his confidence, but the wise men....had but one opinion of his consummate w i s -dom. Foreigners were greatly struck with the success that attended his p o l i c y . Ambassadors were astonished at the i n t i -mate knowledge he displayed of the a f f a i r s of t h e i r own countries. From the most un-propitious beginnings, a proscribed man and an e x i l e , he had won his way i n e v i l times to a throne beset with dangers; he had p a c i f i e d his own country, oherised -48-commeroe, formed strong a l l i a n c e s over Europe, and made his personal influence f e l t by the r u l e r s of France, Spain, I t a l y , and the Netherlands as that of a man who could turn the scale i n matters of the highest importance to t h e i r own domestic welfare...." 19 Surely the career and character of Henry VII f u l f i l s the declaration of Machiavelli who stated that the prince should "...endeavour i n his governmente and .administration of Justice to shewe oonVfcinewallie a oerteine Maiestie mixed with a bolde currage, not with-owte gravity & oonstancye, i n soe much that the better sorte male es-teem his woorde f o r a lawe, and his sentence i n iudgmente irrevocable, and also to rayse and continewe that opinion of him i n the hartes of his subiectes, that they maie imagine he can neither be abused by frawde, nor altered by f l a t t e r i e . She prince that hath once woonn to himself reputacion and accompte emonge his subiectes, neede not - . feare neither the conspiracies or ooniurations of his subiectes a t t home nor the assaultes or invasions of his Enemyes abroade; f o r a prince indeede shoulde soe behaue himself i n the wholle coorse of his l y f f e , that he maybe feared and had i n awe of twoe sortes, the one domestioall, the other foreine, the one subiectes, the other straingers, the owtward enemies wilbe kepte-vnder yf they peroeave that he i s w e l l pro-vided of Armew and w e l l beloved of his Yey,*°s> &vt frendes he s h a l l not wante to take his 19) James Gairdner. Henry VII. p. 209 -49 parte, yf he obserue good d i s c i p l i n e emonge his people, and thinges beinge sure abroade, there i s noe dowbte of his saftye a t t home vnlesse he be disturbed by some r e b e l l i o n or oon-s p i r a c i e . And though his foreine Enemies shoulde enterprise anie matter against him, soe longe as his pro-v i s i o n for the Warrs were s u f f i c i e n t s and his reputacion emonge his people not impayred, (yf he were not wanting to himself, ) he shoulde be hable to beare of thebrunte and rage of t h e i r f u r i e , & withstands t h e i r malice to th e i r owne gayne and g l o r i e , . . . " 20 In conclusion, i t should be remembered that Henry VII was a contemporay of Machia v e l l i , and that he died four years be-fore The Prinoe was written, twenty-three years before i t was printed, Henry VII l i v e d the p o l i c y that Machiavelli ob-served, analysed and formulated. The po l i c y of Henry VII then was not derived from any theo r i s t , but was that recommended by his own character, his own experience and his own aims. He, however, was closely i n touch with events not only i n England but outside of England, and p a r t i c u l a r l y with the events i n I t a l y . As a Milanese envoy at London i s reported to have r e -marked i n 1494, n f...the merchants, most especially the Florentines, never cease giving the Kind of England a d v i c e s . 1 n 20) The Prinoe. XIX, 79.. 21) James txairdner, Henry VII. 111. - 5 0 This same envoy further emphasized that the king of England n 1 i s most thoroughly acquainted with - the a f f a i r s of I t a l y , and receives s p e c i a l information of every event... when the King of France went into I t a l y the King of England sent with him a herald of his own cal l e d Richmond, a sage man who saw everything.... f " 22 Machiavellianism, therefore, was as hative to Henry VII and England as i t was to I t a l y and Machiavelli; Henry VII ex-pounded i t i n deeds, Machiavelli i n words. This i s important to note; f o r some commentators upon the reaction to Machiavelli i n the drama of England have assumed that the representation of the Machiavellian as a desperate v i l l a i n sprang from the d i f f -erence i n national character and p o l i t i c a l experience of the 23 Englishman and the I t a l i a n . Obviously, history denies t h i s . Henry V I I f s achievements as those af one of the great monarchs of England, the i n i t i a t o r of thejmodern English state upon whioh the national d i s t i n c t i o n and imperial power of the English was b u i l t , confirm the accuracy of Maehiavelli's e s t i -mation of what was taking place i n Western Europe and of what measures were needed to guide society at that time to i t s next 22) James Gairdner, Henry VII. P. I l l 23) Fellheimer,. op. c i t .fee th"e claim by Fellheimer Jjhat the - national s]friT and temper of Engli^h^ p o l i t i c s was* con-tradictory to tfe&t of the Italian's^as outlined by Mac h i a v e l l i . ' , U o 4 t -51-stage of development. They prove the p o s i t i v e , constructive purpose that underlayssome at least of the turmoil of those times. How f a r the Elizabethans were from scorning Henry VII for a v i l l a i n may be deduced from the manner i n which Shakes-peare introduces him as a young e a r l : King Henry: Come hither, England's hope.—If secret powers (Laying his hand on h i s head} Suggest but truth to my di v i n i n g thoughts, This pretty l a d w i l l prove our country's b l i s s . His looks are f u l l of peaceful majesty; His head by nature framed to wear a crown, His hand to wear a sceptre; and himself L i k e l y i n time to bless a regal throne. Make much of him, my l o r d s , for this i s he Must help you more than you are hurt by me. ( I I I Henry VI, IV, W, 64 - 76) 24 The scene of the play took place years before the Battle of Bosworth, but i t presented the future Henry VII to the people of Elizabeth's day as the man destined to be the f i r s t Tudor monarch and as the one who would bring peace and order to d i s -tressed England. The popularity of Henry VII's accession to power i s alleged also by Holinshed i n his Chronicles: "At the close of his (Earl of Richmond's ) second speech „$o his army 'the people re i o i s e d , and clapped t h e i r hands, -crying vp to heauen, 'King Henrie, king Henriei' 24) William Shakespeare, "Henry VI, Part I I I , " The Works of William Shakespeare. Oxford, The Shakespeare Head Press, 1938. -52-1 When the l o r d Stanleie saw the good w i l l and gladnesse of the people, he tooke the orowne of king Richard, (which was found amongst the spoile i n the f i e l d ) and set i t on the earles head; as though he had heene elected king by the voice of the people,... i" (p. 420) " i . . . a f t e r the death of king Richard was knowne and -published, euerie man, i n manner vnarming himselfe, & casting awaie his abiliments of warre, meekelie submitted themselues to the obeisance and rule of the earle of Richmond: of the which more part had g l a d l i e so doone i n the beginning, i f they might haue oonuenientlie exeaped from king Richards e s p i a l s , which, hauing as cleere eies as Lyna, and open eares as Midas, ranged & searched i n euerie quarter," (p. 421) 25 Henry VII was followed by Henry V I I I , of whom Machiavelli wrote i n The Discourses: "...quite l a t e l y the king of England attacked the kingdom of France, and employed f o r that purpose no other soldiers except his own sub-jec t s ; and although his own kingdom had been for over t h i r t y years i n profound peace, so that he had at f i r s t neither soldiers nor oaptains who had seen any active military-service, yet he did not hesitate with such troops to a s s a i l a kingdom that had many ex-perienced commanders and good s o l d i e r s , who had been continually under arms i n the I t a l i a n wars. He was enabled to do th i s because he was a sagacious prince, and his kingdom was well ordered, so that i n time of peace the m i l i t a r y art had not been neglected". 26 This i s high praise from Machiavelli who wrote so strongly i n favor of r e l y i n g on native troops, and who considered that 25) Shakespeare's Holinshed W.G-. Boswell-Stone, ed., London, - •„ Ohatto and Windus Publishers, 1907, p. 420 and ©.421. 26) The Discourses, I? XKI, 175 - 176 - 5 3 -oapacity i n war and the study of the art of war during peaoe were the f i r s t r e q u i sites of prin c e l y power. If i t i s true, as Machiavelli claims, that wise coune-2 7 i l l o r s demonstrate the wiadom of the prince, then Henry VIII was scarcely less able a r u l e r than his father, although his dissoluteness, self-indulgence and capriciousness make him e a s i l y appear lacking i n greatness. The truth i s that Henry had a succession of the ablest statesmen i n England's h i s t o r y r Thomas Wolsey, Thomas Cromwell, Thomas Cranmer, Thomas More. Of these, two are notably types discussed by Maohiavelli, Although Henry VIII was himself not inactive i n the foreign diplomacy of England, being p a r t i c u l a r l y concerned with the intrigues to f e e l out the strength and intentions of the German Protestant forces, the foreign p o l i c y of the early part of his reign was c h i e f l y guided by l o l s e y , whose s k i l l i n manoeuvring for English influence as between France and Spain was Maohiavellian. Wolsey's self-seeking, however be-? trayed him, and he suffered the fate of councillors who i n -c l i n e to s a c r i f i c e the interests of a sovereign both powerful and cunning. When his personal ambition rendered him useless and even dangerous to Henry, he was dismissed, disgraced and l e f t to die i n retirement, Henry's behaviour toward Wolsey 27) The Prinoe, m i l , 103 & 108. 54-as l a t e r toward Cromwell waa marked by the astuteness and ruth-28 lessness that bespeaks the wise prince according to Maehiavelli. Thomas Cromwell, l i k e Wolsey, ran a course from a p o s i t i o n low i n the s o c i a l scale to that of the f i r s t statesman i n the nation, next to the king. Son of a man who was i n turn a brewer, smith and armourer, he had a l l the drive and arrogance of a Tamburlane, As a youth he ran away from home, served i n arms i n I t a l y and France, entered trade i n the Low Countries and i n I t a l y and returned to England i n 1512, to enter the wool trade as a merchant and shearman. Later, he began to practice as an attorney, and became known to Wolsey i n 152G as a man of law. Thomas Cromwell i s described as i r r e s i s t i b l e and r e l e n t -less , carrying out his tasks i n a perfect disregard of human f e e l i n g . He was charged by Henry with the organization of the destruction of Papal power i n England, and he did i t with a thoroughness that made his work irrevocable. He i s the f i r s t of England's statesmen to whom has been a t t r i b u t e d a knowledge of Maohiavelli*s The Prinoe. 2 9 Whether or not Cromwell had ever seen or possessed a copy of The Prince, what his experiences were i n I t a l y , how 28) The Prinoe, Ohs. XXII & XXIII, pp. 103-108 29) Innes, A.D. Ten Tudor Statesmen, p. 98; Fellheimer, Jeannetie, ' The Englishman's.Conception of "the I t a l i a n i n the Age of Shakespeare, p.m. ; E i n s t e i n , Lewis, The I t a l i a n flenaislTanoe In England, p. an ; ^ .sqi els™. -55 much he was affected by the unorthodoxy of I t a l y or how much he was a product of the whole trend of western Europe toward absolutism i n government and unorthodoxy i n r e l i g i o n would be hard to say; but i n character and career he i s t y p i c a l of one of the princes and councillors with whom Machiavelli dealt-the prince who f a i l e d properly to r e s t r a i n his c r u e l t i e s , who f a i l e d to keep himself from becoming generally hated, and who, i n serving as a counsellor and agent of another prinee was victimized when his end became necessary to Ms master. In compassing his task of removing the power of the Catholic Church from England, Cromwell moved from the incidental to the basic, from the lower to the higher. F i r s t he attacked the c l e r i c a l abuses whioh so outraged the masses of the people, and i n doing so won popular support; then he assa i l e d the p r i -vileges of churchmen, who were isolat e d by the envy of the other n o b i l i t y ; and then he confiscated the church and monastio properties, making them available to the new n o b i l i t y , whose sympathies lay with the king's p o l i c i e s . In th i s he deprived the church of economic strength and enriched the followers of the king, creating a new secular power to replace the power of the Holy See i n England. When Cromwell's work against the papal authority i n England had beefa completed, however, his -56-maater, Henry V I I I , had him arrested and charged with treaaon; and he used Cromwell's laws, his concept of treason and his f a v o r i t e process, attainder, against him. Cromwell was t r i e d and beheaded. Like Cesare Borgia's-p Hemirro de Oreo, he had 30 f u l f i l l e d his task and could be disposed of. Machiavellian p o l i c y , the p r i n c i p l e of princely absol-utism b u i l t upon the nice balancing of the claims of the n o b i l i -ty and of the people, but re s t i n g i n the f i n a l analysis upon the favor of the people, had so triumphed i n English government by the time of Henry V I I I ' s death that the i n s t i t u t i o n s and practices i t had made t r a d i t i o n a l withstood the disintegrating influence of the weak and discordant rules of the too-partisan Edward V I and of the f a n a t i c a l l y Catholic Mary; and Elizab e t h came to the throne_ to exercise Machiavellian s t a t e c r a f t with renewed vigor. Thanks to the " p o l i t i c k e wisdom" of her grand-father and father, Elizabeth exercised her s k i l l as a prince through a f i r m l y established parliament and a system of councils, courts and commissions, lay and e c c l e s i a s t i c a l , whioh fused t r a d i t i o n and novelty i n government so precisely that the feudal forms that had reinforced l o c a l immunities had become 30) The Prinoe, V I I , 29 - 5 7 the media of centralized c o n t r o l , and the new i n s t i t u t i o n s such as the Star Chamber and the national churoh prevented the old order from being restored. The Machiavellian dream was here r e a l i z e d i n f a c t , Elizabeth's f i r s t task was to reinforce her new state with a r e l i g i o n that would prove intolerable to neither Puritan nor Catholic. She did t h i s by means of the Act of Supremacy and the Act of Uniformity, which established her as "supreme governor", not as supreme head (a nice d i s t i n c t i o n that w e l l i l l u s t r a t e s Elizabeth's capacity for equivocation) of the Church of England i n command of a corps of e c c l e s i a s t i c s ; and she adopted the prayer book by Cranmer as the authoritative guide to f a i t h . For enforcement of t h i s reform, she character-i s t i c a l l y r e l i e d on a combination of force and persuasion -the i n q u i s i t o r i a l court of High Commission and the parish clergy, whose appointment depended on the queen's favor. In the r e l i g i o u s settlement, Elizabeth was r a t i o n a l and p o l i t i c a l . She sought to r e t a i n the episcopacy i n the church, but to e s t a b l i s h the l a i t y , crown and parliament as masters i n the realm as a whole. The church, she intended, should be an instrument of princely power. This r a t i o n a l attitude toward 1 5 8 -r e l i g i o n , so t y p i c a l of Machiavelli (who ce r t a i n l y was no atheist) was evident also i n her foreign p o l i c y . She hacked the Congregation of the Lord, a Protestant body with strong democratic features, i n Scotland, i n i t s e f f o r t s to oust Catholic French influence from the country, and she gave a i d to the Protestant Netherlands and to the French Huguenots against the Catholics and Spain; but her a i d was doled out cautiously so that i t might do no more than keep any one force from becoming too powerful. In th i s she aimed at checking her re l i g i o u s and commercial r i v a l s who threatened her possession of the throne and England's independence. -Her foreign p o l i c y she regarded as a continuation of that of Henry VII and Henry V I I I , who played off one r i v a l against another, and ju d i c i o u s l y aided the less strong against the powerful, on the l i n e s advocated by Mac h i a v e l l i . Nor was she above using her own person as a pawn i n i n order to keep the r i v a l powers guessing whom she might marry. In her f i g h t for a national church subservient to the _ crown, Elizabeth tended to be tolerant, and to l i m i t punishment for recusancy to f i n e s ; but when the p o l i t i c a l and commercial power of Spain, joined with a revived Catholic movement spear-headed by the f a n a t i c a l J e s u i t s , launched a determined campaign - 5 9 -to conquer England f o r Spain and Catholicism, her p o l i c y changed. From 1564, a f t e r the Counoil of Trent, and p a r t i c u -l a r l y a f t e r the Pope excommunicated Eliza b e t h i n 1570, Catholic non-conformity became i d e n t i f i e d with treason, and executions mounted/ as the plots against Elizabeth m u l t i p l i e d and Spain's preparations for invasion became more open. Elizabeth's capacity to r e t a i n her popularity with the great majority of her subjects never f a i l e d her. Like her father and grandfather, she never ferb"ke the l i n k of her interests with those of the people; for while her s k i l l i n diplomacy served her w e l l , i t was the promotion of England as a trading and indus-t r i a l nation, u n i f i e d against a l l r i v a l s , that gave the Sudors t h e i r security and power. Without t h e i r economic e c t i o n and promotion of the merchant adventurers and a r t i s a n classes, and also the squirarohy that blossomed with the r e -duction of the great feudal estates and the growing importance of trade, the Tudors, f o r a l l t h e i r other princely q u a l i t i e s would not have conformed to the times, and would not have won the glory and renown of being the architects of B r i t a i n ' s unity and empire. Elizabeth refused to be bound by the old n o b i l i t y . She chose her own ministers, and f i l l e d her council and court with new men. She treated, the parliament as her chief support, but also as her c h i l d , and f l a t t e r e d i t s members without scruple; but she dared not t r y l o y a l t y too harshly by taxation, and she herself became a merchant and a promoter of merchant enterprises i n order to maintain her treasury. She was s c e p t i c a l , dishonest, coquettish and hard-headed. She kept her ministers guessing and her court favorites i n a constant disquiet. Because of the sanity of the po l i c y that emerged from the carryings-on of t h i s woman, who exasperated more than one ambassador and harried minister, because of the success of her rule i n solving the domestic and foreign problems of her country, one can only conclude that her moods and passions were at least h a l f calculated to keep the enemies with which she was surrounded guessing, and unsure of how to accomplish t h e i r ends; and to try to stave off the inevitable hour of decision, when the new world being ushered i n by Tudor p o l i c y would r i s e up and supersede both the old order and the t r a n s i -t i o n a l despotism. As one reviews the situations that confronted Elizabeth, both as a r u l e r and as a person, and examines the solutions she arrived at and the processes by which she arr i v e d at those solutions, one i s constantly reminded of the arguments i n The Prince and i n the Discourses. -61-Elizabeth was phy s i c a l l y and mentally vigorous; she was courageous and learned; and although she was not a Joan of Arc she kept a s t r i c t watch over her m i l i t a r y commanders. She had her own notions of state p o l i c y and conveyed them to her ad-visers when i t suited her convenience. She was sensitive to her standing as a p r i n c e a n d of her-authority. She trusted no one, i t appears, not even her most l o y a l ministers; but retained those whom she knew to be indispensable to the success of her government and whose p o s i t i o n rested with her; and by such she allowed herself to be cautioned and checked. She knew how to favor and how to execute. Often peevish, v a c i l l a t i n g or ob-s t i n a t e , she has been characterized as one of the keenest p o l i t i c a l minds of her time. She had a vast experience of s t a t e c r a f t , and remarkable power to judge character. As a renaissance prinoe she i l l u s t r a t e d the truth of M a c h i a v e l l i ^ conclusion that " I t t i s impossible for a prince, and s p e c i a l l i e -such a one as i s newlie raysed to that estate, dulie to observe those thinges whioh oauseth men to be esteemed vertuous, for he s h a l l be constrayned spyte of his harte to transgres the bondes of p y t t i e , faythe honestie courtesie and r e l i g i o n : and therefore i t i s behooffull f o r him to c a r r i e a mynde & d i s p o s i t i o n readie to a l t e r with a l l weathers, as the v a r i a t i o n of fortune s h a l l minister occasion, as to followe the best, and to be vertuous yf he -62-maye, but yf that w i l l not serve, not to be seripulous to followe the contrarie. A prince shoulde observe with a l l d i l l i g e n c e and care that noe woorde sholde passe his mouthe that did not savour of one of these f i v e q u a l l i t i e s before meneioned, and wheresoever he were seene or hearde, he should seeme with great reverence-to e x t o l l and imbrase P i t t i e Fayth Honestie  courtesie .& Religion and s p e c i a i l i e the l a s t e , f o r men generallie are carried away with the shewe of thinges, not with the substance, everie man can see but fewe can judge, there i s noe man but seeth what thow seemest to bee, but fewe can deserne what thow arte indeede. Which fewe dar not gainesay the opinion of the multitude, which haue the maiestie of the prinoe fior theire defence. In the Actions of men, & es p e o i a l l i e i n princes causes (whioh are not determinable by lawe nor c a l l e d i n question before judges) the lookers on for the most parte marke the evente not the causes, the ende not the maner of t h e i r prooeedinges, Lett a prince therefore provide f or the s a f e t i e of his person and s e c u r i t i e of his estate and never dowbte but what meanes soever i t be doon (soe i t cary a shewe of honestie) i t shalbe construed . to the best, and be thought woorthy of great prayse and commendacion, f o r the common people are oarried away with the semblance of honestie and good eventes of Actions, and t r u l i e the wholle worlde i t i s but a oommuflaltie, for the wiser sorte that can judge of thinges aright are placed i n such roomes where the multitude cannot come unto". 31 Elizabeth's v o l a t i l e personality, her bravery and energy recommended her to the populace; who witnessed the graciousness of her manner during pageants, experienced the prosperity with 31) The Prince, XVIII, 77 - 78. -63-which her rule endowed England on the w h o l e a n d were impressed by the number and severity of her proclamations. As w i l l be shown l a t e r i n greater d e t a i l , by the time of Elizabeth the writings of Machiavelli were c i r c u l a t i n g i n England i n published as w e l l as manuscript form. That the Machiavellian q u a l i t i e s of the p o l i c i e s of the Tudors were 32 appreciated by some Englishmen would seem to be undoubted. That these p o l i c i e s were generally approved and applauded i s t e s t i f i e d to by the r e l a t i v e ease with which the Tudors retained th e i r throne, and the tremendous support they received while 33 ef f e c t i n g r a d i c a l reformsj the growth of national consciousness and the p a t r i o t i c fervour shown under t h e i r r u l e . The i d e n t i t y of England's increasing greatness as a nation with the person of the monarch becomes most notable under El i z a b e t h . I t i s prec i s e l y under Elizabeth, however, that the devil-possessed Machiavellian appears upon the English stage, c l e a r l y l a b e l l e d and loudly denounced. At the same time, however, as w i l l be shown, the true prinoe as Machiavelli de-fin e d him i s also paraded on the stage, but untagged, and, apparently, unrecognised. Why true Machiavellians could emerge upon the stage 32) Jeannette Fellheimer, The Englishman's Conception of the , I t a l i a n in.the Age of Shakespeare, Chapter IV cit e s evidence of l i b r a r i e s , l e t t e r s and anecdotes. 33) The Calendar of the Carew Manuscripts. 1589 - 1600, ed. J.S..Brewer, M.A. and Wm. Bullen, London, Longmans, Green & Co., 1869, gives evidence of the overwhelming support extended to Elizabeth i n her church reforms, from clergy as well as l a i t y , pp. xxx-xxxl - 6 4 -without being ao l a b e l l e d must now be clear to readers. I t i s , surely, that the characterization of the prince i n terms r e f l e c -t i n g those of Machiavelli must have struck the audience with the force of t r u t h , and impressed i t with the accuracy and fu l l n e s s with which the character defined contemporary p o l i t i c a l p r a c t i c e . I t i s , surely, that Machiavelli's s e l e c t i o n of princely character-i s t i c s e s s e n t i a l to successful renaissance government was d i s -criminating and exaot, and that the appearance on the stage of a t r u l y Machiavellian representation of a successful renaissance monarch would be reoeived by the audience with recognition and approval. I t i s , surely, that the q u a l i t i e s c i t e d as d i s t i n g u i s h -ing the true Machiavellian prince - as resolution, valor, r e-sourcefulness, self-assurance, cunning, subtlety, dissimulation and shrewdness, an a f f e c t a t i o n of pi e t y , d i g n i t y , the i d e n t i f i -cation of the pursuit of his own advantage with the promotion of public welfare, general tolerance and a capacity for ruth-lessness - epitomized the q u a l i t i e s c a l l e d f o r t h by the problems of the age. In other words, the p r i n c i p l e s of renaissance poli"-t i c a l power, as expounded i n the works of Machiavelli and demon-strated i n the plays designed to extenuate the practice of the Tudors, f e l l upon the theatre audiences of Elizabeth's time with the impact of r e a l i t y , and reinforced the confidence of the people i n t h e i r leaders. She romantic Machiavellian, how-ever was an extravagance, a bogey. -66< Chapter I I I An t i - Machiavellianism The story i s to l d that i n 1 5 2 7 Thomas CBomwell, minister to Henry VIII and p u p i l of Cardinal Wolsey i n s t a t e c r a f t , advised Reginald Pole, l a t e r Cardinal Pole, counsellor to the Catholic Queen Mary, " drop highflown ideas, and le a r n the p r a c t i c a l business of a p o l i t i c i a n by studying Machiavelli's 1 P r i n c e , W h e t h e r or not the story i s h i s t o r i c a l l y w e l l founded i n f a c t , i t presents accurately the d i v i s i o n between those who embraced the theses of Machia v e l l i , and those who clung to the medieval-Catholic concept of p o l i t i c a l power, Cromwell was one of the chief architects of the r e l i g i o u s independence of England and of that indispensable buttress of absolute monarchy, a national church; Pole, on the other hand was a ceaseless f i g h t e r f o r the res t o r a t i o n of papal authority and the r i g h t s of the ancient n o b i l i t y i n England, To Pole and to those who looked out on l i f e with h i s eyes, the Machia-v e l l i a n thesis was impious, a t h e i s t i c and i m p l i c i t with d i s -order. Out of the c o n f l i c t between these opposing points of 1 ) A.D. Innes, Ten Tudor Statesmen, London, Grayson & G r ayson, p. . 9 8 . view .the Machiavellian bogey evolved. There i s plenty of evidence, as has been noted for example by Edward Meyer, 2 Jeannette Fellheimer 3 a n £ Hardin Craig, k-i n t h e i r respective works, that Machiavelli was o r i g i n a l l y favorably accepted i n England. In 15^ 9* William Thomas, an h i s t o r i a n undertaking to write of I t a l y , decided to base h i s work on M a c h i a v e l l i 1 s History of Florence, as the one on which a l l authors agreed best, 5 i n d i c a t i n g that the then novel m a t e r i a l i s t i c approach of Machiavelli to the practice of princes and to the origins of society and of power was not outrageous to the Elizabethan students of h i s t o r y . In 1562, when the f i r s t e d i t i o n of Machiavelli's Art of War was published In English, the e p i s t l e dedicatory, addressed to Queen Elizabeth, showed only respect and admiration f o r Machiavelli ^. In 1573 Gabriel Harvey then a student at Cambridge, wrote to M. Reming-ton, a f r i e n d , asking for the loan of Machiavelli*s book. In h i s l e t t e r he referred to Machiavelli as " *ye greate founder and master of p o l l i c i e s * and he stated, 11 »I purpose to peruse him only, not misuse him; and s u p e r f i c i a l l y to surveie 2) Edward Meyer, Machiavelli and the Elizabethan Drama, Weimar, Verlag Von Emil Felber, ltJ97« 1 3) Jeannette Fellheimer, The Englishman's Conception of the  I t a l i a n i n the Age of Shakespeare, University of London M.A. Thesis, 1935. l±) Hardin Craig, Machiavelli* s The Prince, Chapel H i l l , The University of North Carolina Press, 19l|4» Introduction. 5) Fellheimer, op* c i t . p. 180* 6) I b i d , p. 182, -68 h i s forrests of p o l l i c i e , not g u i l e f u l l y to conveie awaie h i s i n t e r e s t i n them* " 7. Later, i n 1579* Harvey remarked upon the popularity of Machiavelli»s writings at Cambridge and noted that the which they were read was remark-able. He described " ' an odd crewe or tooe as cunninge ' M i n Machiavelli and i n H 'certayne gallant Turkish Discourses'", which, he claimed, were replacing l o g i c and moral and natural philosophy i n student i n t e r e s t . -® In l57lj.» S i r P h i l i p Sidney, w r i t i n g from Padua to Hugh Languet, staged that he "» never could be induced to believe that Machiavelli was r i g h t about avoiding excess of clemency u n t i l (he) learned from (his) own experience what (Machiavelli) has endeavoured with many argu-ments to prove' "• 9 Languet, r e p l y i n g , referred to Sidney as Machiavelli«s f r i e n d * These references to M a c h i a v e l l i , voiced by English scholars, indicate at l e a s t interest i n M a c h i a v e l l i , and i n some instances, approval© Government records further reveal that f a m i l i a r i t y with Machiavelli extended to the court n o b i l i t y . A note i n Queen Elizabeth's Common-Place Book for the years 1596 - l603 7) Fellhelmer, op. c i t . p.,!B5 8) Meyer, Machiavelli and the Elizabethan Drama, p. 25 9; Fellhelmer, The Englishmen's Conception, p.""18o -6 9-refers to "'Certein selected chapters selected out of Nicholas Machiavel h i s 3 books of discourses upon the f i r s t decade of Livie» ^ A l e t t e r from John Blount i n 1 6 0 2 makes mention of C e c i l , Lord Burleigh, as a Machiavellian; and e a r l i e r , i n l 5 5 l » S i r W. Pickeringi ambassador to Prance, w r i t i n g to Burleigh, spoke of the Discourses of Machiavelli which he had ordered bound, but which he had burned because they were bungled. Further, the C e c i l papers at H a t f i e l d House, containing 'Certayne selected chapters translated out of Nicholas Machlavell h i s 3 books of Discourses upon the f i r s t decade of L i v i e 1 offer evidence that Burleigh d i d indeed consult M a c h i a v e l l i 1 s work* When Thomas Bedingfield dedicated h i s History of Florence ( 1 5 9 5 ) to S i r Christopher Hatton, he defended h i s doing so by the hope he had-that h i s lordship, although he had read jthe original;, would " 1 f o r v a n i t i e s ' sake....againe vouchsafe to read i t i n our English.»w ^ This, and a good deal more evidence l i k e i t , gathered together i n Chapter Four of Miss Fellheimer's work and i n the work of Edward Meyer, already referred to, f o r t i f i e s the impression that not only Burleigh, but Leicester, Walsinghan, S i r Thomas•Smith, Lord Rutland, the E a r l of Northumberland, Lord John Lumley and others, could have and l i k e l y had read 1 0 ) Fellhelmer, The Englishman's Conception, p. 2 2 b 1 1 ) Ibid.p. 2 2 7 1 2 ) Feaiheimer, op.cit . p. 2 2 8 - 7 0 -Machiavelli either i n English manuscript t r a n s l a t i o n or In French, I t a l i a n or L a t i n printed editions* In addition to scholars, courtiers and men high i n the government of Elizabeth, men of r e l i g i o n were also giving attention to Machiavelli*a theses. An early expression of the church's c r i t i c i s m i s given i n a sermon by Rev. Edwin Sandys: n 'There i s no p o l i c y , no widsom l i k e the Bisdom of God. The Commonwealth which A r i s t o t l e and Plato have framed i n th e i r books, otherwise f u l l of wisdom, yet compared with that c i t y f or whose sake and benefit the Lord doth watch, what are they but fancies of f o o l i s h 1 men? As f o r Machiavel's inventions, they are but the dreams of a brain-sick person, founded upon the c r a f t of man, and not godly wisdom, which only hath good e f f e c t . Godly princes have no need to seek for counsel at these men's hands; the mouth of the Lord i s s u f f i c -ient for them* 11 13 By the lf>80»s however, the name of Machiavelli was becom-ing the synonym f o r e v i l ambition. The widely disseminated and much discussed pamphlet at t r i b u t e d to the notorious Jesuit p l o t t e r , Father Parsons, had a large share i n developing t h i s reaction. In th i s pamphlet,, e n t i t l e d Leyeester's Common-wealth ( l£ 8 a ) . Leicester^warned against advancing Huntington too f a r , as, the pamphlet notes, h i s t o r y has shown that those 13) Fellheimer, o p . c i t . p. 186 -71 advanced sometimes turn on those who aided them, as, for ex-ample, Henry VII turned upon and executed Lord Stanley, and Richard I I I turned upon and executed Buckingham: Leicester, therefore, the pamphlet argues, should be wary, and that n 'not without reason, as Seignior Machavel my Lords C o u n c i l l -our affirmeth | W« The pamphlet further comments upon " 'a s e t t l e d r u l e of Machivel, which the Dudlles do observe: That where you have onceddone a great i n j u r y , there you must never forgive* 1 ^ Thus from the recommendation of Thomas Cromwell to the warning to Lord Leicester, the evidence i s ample that the thesis of Machiavelli had the attention of persons of various ranks and i n t e r e s t s ; and that people were divided i n t h e i r reaction to it# As the century advanced opinion h o s t i l e to Machiavelli grew sharper and more vociferous, u n t i l i n the l a s t decade the name of Machiavelli became a synonym for the d e v i l , and the epithet applied to the most d i a b o l i c a l stage villtija)ns* In 1*J53> Roger Ascham defined Machiavelli«s doc-t r i n e as n 'to thincke say and do what sooner may best serve for p r o f i t s or pleasure ' n; ^ and, while he may not have approved then, he does not exhibit the f e e l i n g which ll(.) Meyer, op>oit» p» 29 15) Fellhelmer, op<,cit«p« 180 7 2 -he expresses i n 1 5 7 0 i n h i s claim that a l l are Machiavellians who " l . . . a l l i e themselves with the worst Papistes, to whom they be wedded and do well agree i n three proper opin-ions: In open contempts of Goddes worde: In a secrete s e c n r i t i e of sinne: and i n a bloodie desire to have a l l taken away, by sword and burning, that be not of t h e i r f a c t -ion « ". l 6 Gabriel Harvey, who i n 1 5 7 3 had been a student of Machia-v e l l i and had recognized i n him a master of p o l i c y , i n 1 5 7 8 wrote a L a t i n poem i n which he l i s t e d the four crimes that were to become increasingly associated with Machiavellian 17 v i l l a i n s : poison, murder, fraud, and violence* In 1 5 7 9 » i n a l e t t e r to Spenser, he expressed fear of the harmful effects the study of Machiavelli might have on the Cambridge students* ^ He, who i n 1 5 7 3 had c a l l e d Machiavelli n • unicus i n p o l i t i c i s •", i n 1 5 7 8 , called'him " »Deus R i g i d ! Tyranni » ". 1 9 After 1 5 7 6 the denunciation of Machiavelli becomes a chorus i n which Robert Greene, Thomas Lodge, Christopher Marlowe, Thomas Howell, Gabriel Harvey, Richard Harvey, Thomas Nashe and others raised t h e i r voices, pronouncing him a "poysoner", a »waivererM, a "master of h e l l " , a "corrupter", a "lawgiver to those s t r i v i n g to e x c e l l i n tyrannic", a "brocher of D i a b o l l i c a l Atheisme". They l i n k him with treachery, apostasy, uncleanliness; and l b ) Meyer, op*cit* p. 17 ~~ 1 7 ) I b i d , p. 22 1 8 ) Fellheimer, op.cit* p* 1 9 9 1 9 ) I b i d , p. 1 9 8 - 7 3 -they define h i s p r i n c i p l e s as " p e s t i l l e n t Machiavellian p o l i c y " . ' / This attitude of outrage toward Machi a v e l l i , which emerged i n t o l i t e r a t u r e during the 1 5 7 0 ' s and i n t o the drama a l i t t l e more than a decade l a t e r , continued i n t o the f i r s t quarter of the seventeenth century. I t was at i t s height when the great tragedies and h i s t o r i c a l dramas were produced f o r which the Elizabethan age i s famous. By the end of the reign of James I , however, r i d i c u l e , caricature and parody were superseding the p o r t r a i t of Machiavelli as Satan, and prominent p e r s o n a l i t i e s , l i k e S i r Francis Bacon had written t h e i r considered approval of Machiavelli's thought. The bogey had come and gone; but the character and intent of Machiavelli's work had been e f f e c t i v e l y d i s t o r t e d . Machiavelli's spectacular r i s e to prominence i n the theatre and i n controversial l i t e r a t u r e as the synonym f o r satanic v i l l a i n y , p a r t i c u l a r l y a f t e r 1 5 7 6 , need not surprise wf1 i«s we bear i n mind the h i s t o r y of the time. Even^Machia-v e l l i wrote h i s Prince, the. c o n f l i c t over supremacy raging between the church and the secular state, which was i n essence the c o n f l i c t between the medieval C h r i s t i a n and the renaissance national concept of the nature of power was under way i n a l l -7k-western Europe, By the time of Elizabeth t h i s c o n f l i c t had reaehedj.its peak i n England, The c r i s i s was resolved, as we know, during the l a s t decade of the sixteenth century with the successful defence of English national independence under a sovereign king and national church. I t was p r e c i s e l y during these years of c r i s i s that the stage Machiavellian f l o u r i s h e d ; f o r the Tudor abandonment of the t r a d i t i o n a l Catholic-feudal outlook and t h e i r vigorous pursuit of national despotic power was proof to b e l i e v i n g Catholics that Elizabeth and her council were dominated by " p o l i t i c k e atheisms'* j whereas the partisans of Elizabeth found the a c t i v i t i e s of those who prom-oted Catholic claimants to the throne equally g u i l t y of wicked-ness, i r r e l i g i o n , and s e d i t i o n . Behind the Machiavellian v i l l a i n l a y h i s t o r y ; and the term " p o l i t i c k e atheiste" had a very.specific meaning. Accord-ing to the discussion of Elizabethan atheism i n chapter three 2 0 of Ernest A. Strathmann's S i r Walter Raleigh, inward or secret atheism had i t s roots i n schism and heresy; that i s , because of the nature of power as the d i r e c t and v i s i b l e e v i -dence of G-od's r u l e on earth, the break-up of western Christen-dom into secular national states bred both wickedness and d i s -2 0 ) Ernest A. Strathmann, S i r Walter Raleigh, A Study i n  Elizabethan Skepticism, New York, Columbia University Press, 1951• -75-l o y a l t y . This wickedness and d i s l o y a l t y was a creeping thing that infected people while they remained scarcely aware of i t s growth; and i t s most v i r u l e n t expression was the a c t i v i t y of the " p o l i t i c k s atheiste" who with affected p i e t y , smooth words, subtlety and secret crime wrested power from those appointed by god to r u l e . The " p o l i t i c k e atheiste" i n other words, was one who, while professing f a i t h , secretly i n h i s heart or by his deeds challenged the hierarchy established by God and the i n t e r p r e t a t i o n of l i f e i n h i s Word. As Catholics and Protest-ants both claimed to represent t r u t h and divine order, each charged the other with atheism once the cry was raised; and neither necessarily implied a d i s b e l i e f i n God i n his opponent. Thus, as Mr. Strathmann notes i n the opening of h i s chapter on the question, atheism became what he c a l l s a "snarl word", which any one might use against whoever disagreed with them i n r e l i -gious or p o l i t i c a l opinion. Elizabeth was a " p o l i t i c k s atheiste" to the supporters of the papacy, and also to the Puritans within the Anglican Church; Burleigh, Leicester, Hatton^Essex might be " p o l i t i c k e atheistes" to the earls of the North and t h e i r Catholic supporters. In these circumstances, i t i s not s u r p r i s i n g that M a c h i a v e l l i , he who most succinctly - 7 6 -and most boldly stated the m a t e r i a l i s t view of state power, should have become the symbol of Satanic power and apostasy. By 1 5 6 0 the o r i g i n a l l y Catholic-inspired denunciation of Machiavelli began to f i n d r e f l e c t i o n i n popular l i t e r a t u r e . In 1 5 6 8 , the Sempill Ballads were published i n Scotland. These were s a t i r i c verses, w r i t t e n , not by Catholics but by Protestants, against Mary Queen of Scots, whose advisers were 21 c a l l e d "false Machivllians"# The Catholic supporters of the Queen r e p l i e d by charging that her Protestant opponents were Machiavellians. But the book which placed In the hands of the reading public the complete vocabulary of hatred and prejudice against Machiavelli was the Contre-Machiavel of p p Innocent G e n t i l l e t . Published i n Prance i n 1 5 7 6 and trans-l a t e d into E n g l i s h i n 1 5 7 7 by Simon Patricke, t h i s Huguenot di a t r i b e established Machiavelli i n the mind of those p a r t i c i -pating i n the controversy as the equivalent of the d e v i l him-s e l f • Today, commentators generally agree that G e n t i l l e t ' s work i s l i b e l l o u s , unjust and false i n i t s representation of the p r i n c i p l e s enunciated by Machiavelli. 2 1 ) Fellhelmer, op.cit. p. 1 8 3 2 2 ) Innocent G e n t i l l e t , A Discourse upon the meanes of wel l  governing and maintaining i n good peace, a kingdome, or other  p r i n c i p a l i t i e s , Translated into the English by Simon Patricke, London, Printed by Adam I s l i p , l 6 0 2 . -7-7-G e n t i l l e t was a French Protestant, a lawyer, who i n 1576 was elected president of the Grenoble Parlement. Favor-? ing the party of Evangelical reform,- he held that a l l the i l l s of France stemmed from the corruption of French p o l i t i c s by mean upstarts, p a r t i c u l a r l y I t a l i a n s , whose lack of r e l i g i o n and whose admiration for Machiavelli were destroying C h r i s t i a n government, G e n t i l l e t , i n the most unrestrained terms declared Machiavelli to be the very d e v i l himself; and he c a l l e d on France to abandon h i s wicked doctrines and return to the true French government, t Believing In kings as d i v i n e l y guided r u l e r s , and thoroughly medieval i n h i s views of monarchy, he was outraged by the p r a c t i c a l and scientific-approach of Machiavelli to problems of p o l i t i c a l power,. To him Machiavelli mocked at a l l things holy i n h i s pursuit of perfect v i l l a i n y ; to him the right of the landed noble over both land and peoples was holy, and therefore any other order was vill^/a)iy. He therefore accused Machiavelli of tyranny, atheism and immoral-i t y , and warned that h i s p o l i c i e s destroyed a l l good order and honesty. He characterized Machiavelli as a "most pernicious w r i t e r " , 2 3 23) Innocent G e n t i l l e t , op,cit, p. 2 - 7 8 -The dedication to Queen Elizabeth i n the English e d i t i o n of G e n t i l l e t ' s book reads i n part:* "But 0 how happy are yee because you have so gratious a Queene, and also, for that the i n -festious Machiavellian doctrine, hath not breathed nor penetrated i n the i n t r a i l s of most happy England". 2lj. The writer of the dedication was wrong, as has been seen, i n beli e v i n g that Machiavelli's w r i t i n g s , or that Machiavellian p o l i c y had not yet appeared i n England; but his work must have been a welcome handbook of vituperation to the p o l i t i c a l and r e l i g i o u s polemicists of the time, and of p a r t i c u l a r value to those whose minds leaned toward the medieval view of order and g ood government. A quotation or two from G e n t i l l e t may help to define the bias of h i s mind and the mood i n which he wrote: "...we see i t by the practise of the Machiavellistes, which never shoot at other marke, than to ruinate i n Prance a l l the N o b i l i t i e , the better to e s t a b l i s h t h e i r tyrannie, at ease without contradictions...*and f o r t h i s effect have cassed, v i o l a t e d and over-throwne a l l the good lawes of the kingdome, by the meanes of which i t has alwaies hitherto been maintained..." 25 " . . . a l l h is (Machiavelli's) doctrine shbotes at no other marke, but to 2£j!) Innocent G e n t i l l e t , o p.cit. p. 3 25) I b i d , p. 371 - 7 9 -" i n s t r u c t a prince to governe hims e l f a f t e r h i s owne fancie, not to deliver h i s eare to such as would shew him the t r u t h , and to despbile himself of a l l p i e t e , conscience, and r e l i g i o n . " 26 "For f a i t h and promise, or of r i g h t and reason, men may not speak i n Machiavels schoole, unless i t be to mock at them.." 27 " . . . t h i s wicked Atheist hath no other purpose.... than to persuade a prince to become a tyrant, and most wicked, embracing a l l vices, and chasing away a l l v i r t u e s . . . . " 28 The d i s t o r t i o n Of Machiavelli of which G e n t i l l e t was g u i l t y i s that of a person carr i e d beyong reason and just i c e by moral indignation. Undoubtedly M a c h i a v e l l i 1 s proposals im-p l i e d the overthrow of feudal forms and customs, and to G e n t i l l e t , therefore, a champion of the past, they were G e n t i l l e t 1 s concern was for t r a d i t i o n a l France; and his c a l l was to the French to r a l l y to the standards of t h e i r an-cestors, and against the innovators i n t h e i r land. it ' . . . . l e t us not leave o f f , for a sort of degenerate Frenchmen, adherents to the pernicious purposes of that race ( I t a l i a n s ) to maintain and conserve the honors...of 26) Innicent G e n t i l l e t , op.clt. p. lij .2 27) I b i d , p. 22ij. 28) I b i l . p. -80-"our French nation, which these bastardlie I t a l i a n s have contaminated and s o i l e d by t h e i r c r u e l t i e s , massacres and p e r f i d i e s " . 29 The violence and color of h i s language, which abounds i n terras such as "murderer", "bastard", "stinking a t h e i s t " , "winders" and "deceivers", "murderers who c a l l themselves abbreviators of j u s t i c e " , and the l i k e , mark hi s work as the source book of the terminology for the stage Machiavellian. To him Machiavelli i s "a very Atheist and contemner of God". His concern i s not with meeting the maxims of Machiavelli with reason (for he could not accept the premise of Machiavelli»s works even for discussion: that stable government rests upon the a b i l i t y of the r u l e r to win the favor of the people and to change with the times). His book, therefore, i s merely an exhortation to the people to remain l o y a l to the past, and to uphold the good as i t had been known. The views expressed i n the works of Machiavelli and G e n t i l l e t epitomized f o r the l i t e r a r y world of renaissance England the basic c o n f l i c t that was rocking the whole of western Europe; but the superior scope of the work of Machia-v e l l i as that of the man who was looking to the future, and 29) G e n t i l l e t , op.cit. -81 whose thinking l a y with the movement of his time, made him not only the object of attack of those who lacked his i n s i g h t or rejected his conclusions, but the preceptor of both h i s friends and his enemies; for even those who desired to c l i n g to the past had to function i n the present, and grapple with r e a l i t y ; and no one i n sixteenth century B^jQope showed a greater talent for recognizing p o l i t i c a l r e a l i t y than di d Mahhiavelli. Machiavelli had warned that the establishment of a wholly new state was a most dangerous and d i f f i c u l t task; and he had advised ru l e r s of new p r i n c i p a l i t i e s that they must expect to be beset by snares and ambushes on every side, and to be exiles from the f u l l favor of a l l . G e n t i l l e t 1 s attack would not have surprised him, since i t was he who had said: "The d i f f i c u l t i e s which are incidents to the keepinge and continewance of a newe gotten p r i n c i p a l i t i e doe r i s e p a r t l i e from the Lawes Statutes and ordinances which the Prince shalbe forced to make for the s a f t i e of his owne estate. Pfore t h i s i s to be noted that there i s nothinge soe harde to enterprise nor soe dowbtefull to ende, nor soe daungerous to prosecute as to make a mans s e l f Author of newe lawes or customes. For he that i s the f i r s t bringer i n of them shalbe - 8 2 -"sure to haue a l l those h i s Enamyes that reaped any commoditye by the olde and those but h i s colde frendes that hope f o r any p r o f f i t t e by the newe which coldnes dothe springe p a r t l l e f or feare of t h e i r adver-saries to whom the olde lawes were b e n e f i c i a l l , and p a r t l l e throughe mens i n c r e d u l i t i e , which w i l l never c e r t e i n l y beleue any thinge to come unlesse they see i t confirmed by manifest experience", 30 The stage Machiavellian, then, was the c r y s t a l l i z a t i o n of the spectre of disorder and godlessness that haunted a people'changing from one order.of society to another. Inspired by the conservative's dreadful warning against the breakdown of morality and human r e s t r a i n t under God's law, he dramatized a danger that was i l l u s o r y ; and he was i n his perversity and excess fundamentally inhuman, a nightmare; f o r , i n f a c t , as Machiavelli had noted, "Men cannot be either wholly good or wholly bad". 31 Further, on the stage, he dealt his blows against the noble whose fears had f i r s t evoked his image> and was used, as w i l l be seen i n an exmination of the drama, by progress against reaction. 30) The P r i n c e p p . 22-23 31) The Discourses, I , x x v i , p. l8i+ and x x v i i , p. 186 - 8 3 -Chapter IV The Romantic Interpretation. When r e a l i t y i s so treated that the truth expressed i s only p a r t i a l ; when the a r t i s t leaves i l l - d e f i n e d or out of focus the relationship of the part to the whole, then the hand of romance i s at work. The medieval romance, for example, made an extravagance of love, nature and adventure, and was i n essence f a n t a s t i c , that i s , b u i l t upon i l l u s i o n , Romance i s often accepted by the u n i n i t i a t e d as t r u t h , and indulged i n by the ignorant as f a c t . I t can be conscious, and designed not to convince but to entertain; or i t can be unintentional, or evoked by a reluctance or incapacity to face f a c t s . A quick or passionate reaction to something as either good or bad, can produce a biassed, extravagant or romantic interpre-1 t a t i o n . As the d e f i n i t i o n i n the Oxford Dictionary indicates, 1) Romance - prose or r a r e l y verse t a l e with scene and incidents remote from everyday l i f e , class of l i t e r a t u r e consisting of such 1 t a l e s : set of f a c t s , episode, love a f f a i r , etc., suggesting such tales by i t s strangeness or moving nature; atmosphere character-i z i n g such t a l e s , mental tendency to be influenced by i t , sym-pathetic imaginativeness; an exaggeration, picturesque falsehood. 1 - &v-the core of the terra romance i s the idea of deviation from the norm, the conception of e f f e c t heightened by abstraction from the f u l l or precise t r u t h . In the portrayal of the character presented by certain Elizabethan dramatists as Machiavellian, romance ruled the minds of the poets. Whether or not the romancing was d e l i -berate, the poets alone could say, and i t i s not necessary to t h i s discussion that this be known; for the concern here i s to d i s t i n g u i s h between the romantic and the r e a l Machia-v e l l i a n on the Elizabethan stage, not to attempt to analyze the intent of the w r i t e r s . Edward Meyer i n his work, Machiavelli and the Elizabeth-an Drama, has 'discovered 39 -^ references to Machiavelli, a l -most a l l of which r e f l e c t bias i n the i n t e r p r e t a t i o n of the meaning of Machiavellianism. Jeannette Fellheimer, i n her the s i s , referred to previously, devoted a chapter to a d i s -cussion of the reaction to M a c h i a v e l l i i n England i n the age of Shakespeare, and noted that the Stage Machiavellian t y p i -f i e d a h o s t i l i t y that was inspired c h i e f l y by a r e l i g i o u s pre-judice^ having i t s root i n the contradiction between the moral idea of medieval Christendom as an empire ordained and - 8 5 -guided by God and the pragmatic practice of the rulers of the renaissance states. The present writer does not e n t i r e l y agree with Miss Fellhelmer, f e e l i n g that the c o n f l i c t of the time was i n essence p o l i t i c a l , although i t expressed i t s e l f i n r e l i g i o u s terms. Miss Fellhelmer fs stage Machiavellian i s distinguished by c h a r a c t e r i s t i c s noted also by Meyer. They are: egotism; a willingness to commit any crime; a disregard of the interests of a l l but those whose aid i s indispensable to the r e a l i z a t i o n of a desired aim; a use of violence and c r a f t ; a s k i l l i n the art of deception; a readiness to victimize the innocent; a tendency to s o l i l o q u i z e upon his own vindictiveness and murderous thoughts; a habit of t e l l i n g his bloddy thoughts to accomplices who are then silenced; a light-heartedness i n the performance of crime and a complacent acceptance of the e f f i -cacy of wickedness; a persistence irjmisdeed and no repentance at death; an enmity to God and a consequent atheism; motiva-t i o n by expediency, and contempt for moral scruple; and a pleased appreciation of the advantage enjoyed by being free of a l l p r i n c i p l e . This summing up by Miss Fellheimer of the stage Machia--86-v e l l i a n ±.s; i n t h i s writer's opinion, excellent. The stage Machiavellian was, indeed, a l l the things she declared he was, and each c h a r a c t e r i s t i c she attributes to him could be i n -ferred from the discussion of the Prince by Machiavelli; but the stage character remains a f a l s i f i c a t i o n , a d i s t o r t i o n , a romanticized version of the prince approved by Machiavelli because he i s presented both outside the context of history (Barabbas, Lightborn) and devoid of the constructive s o c i a l and p o l i t i c a l aims (Mortimer, Tamburlahe) without which he cannot be termed t r u l y Machiavellian; for the object of Ma-c h i a v e l l i 's discussion of the prince was not i n s t r u c t i o n i n v i l l a i n y , i t was the resolution into order of s o c i a l and p o l i t i c a l chaos. The stage. Machiavellian i s i n o r i g i n , there-fore, the product of observers whose imperfect v i s i o n saw i n the thesis of Machiavelli, not ultimate l i b e r a t i o n , peace and a new ordeijbut repression and disaster; and not merely d i s -aster but a deliberate disruption of order. Thus Tamburlane declares: I w i l l p e r s i s t a terror to the world. II(IV, i , 200) 2 Barabas screams In frenzied hate: so I l i v e , perish may a l l the world. (V,v,10 ) 3 2) Christopher Marlowe, Tamburlane the Great, London, Methuen & Co., 1930. 3) Marlowe, The Jew of Malta, London, Methuen & Co., 1931. - 8 7 -Dr. Pauatus voices the wish to defy universal law: To do whatever Paustus s h a l l command, Be i t to make the moon drop from her sphere, Or the ocean to overwhelm the world. . ( I, i i i , 39 " Ip. ) * Macbeth invokes universal destruction: Though you untie the winds and l e t them f i g h t Against the churches; though yesty waves Confound and swallow navigation up: Though bladed corn be lodg'd, and trees blown down, Though castles topple on t h e i r warders* heads, Though palaces, and pyramids do slope Their heads to t h e i r foundations: though the treasure Of Nature's germen, tumble a l l together, Even t i l l destruction sicken: answer me To what I ask you. ( IV, 1, 51 - 60 ) 5 Chief among the dramatisers of the romantic Machiavell-ian i s Christopher ^arlowe - the originator of the notorious stage Machiavellian, Barabas - whose plays, from Tamburlane to Edward I I are coloured by the author's preoccupation with the struggle f o r power. I f i t i s correct that Marlowe's plays came out i n the order - Tamburlane, The Jew of Malta, Doctor Paustus, Edward I I - i t i s possible to trace i n the attitu d e toward ambition a t r a n s i t i o n from youthful enthusiasm for i t s spectacular achievements to a revulsion from i t s excesses 4) Marlowe, The T r a g i c a l l History of Dr. Faustus, London, Methuen & Co,, 1932. 5) William Shakespeare, "Macbeth", the,Works of Shakespeare, Oxford, The Shakespeare Head Press, 1938. -88-and s i n i s t e r implications. In the course of these plays, Marlowe's approach se t t l e s into that originated by the A mat [ecemto opponents of the "new men"; more l i k e that of those who de-A nounced r e a l i s t s i n p o l i t i c s as " p o l i t i c k e atheistes". His attack i n h i s one p o l i t i c a l play, Edward I I , i s directed, how-ever, against the insurgent n o b i l i t y ; against, indeed, that section of society from which the in t e r p r e t a t i o n of Machiavelli as a v i l l a i n f i r s t was heard. In Tamburlane, his f i r s t play, Marlowe created i n heroic proportions the man of war, unconquerable except by Fortune and Death. In his exaltation of Tamburlane*s force of character, r e s o l u t i o n and s k i l l i n war, and his passionate devotion to n nothing but war, Marlowe seems to be i n sympathy with Machiavelli. Many of the scenes i n both parts of the play portray the kind of c o n f l i c t , demonstration 6f wit and daring, cunning and shrewdness, with which one meets i n the discussions of the prince i n the pages of Machiavelli. At the conclusion of Part I I , however, Tamburlane has become merely an a r t i s t i n " bloodshed and conquest; h i s arrogance and impatience have i s o l a t e d him from h i s o f f i c e r s who formerly enjoyed a kind of intimacy with him as companions-in-arms; he rejoices i n nothing but conquest and destruction; and measures the extent of his - 8 9 -greatness by the height of the heaps of s k u l l s his prowess creates. The whole community, princes, people and p r i e s t s , i s i n arms against him. But he i s i n s a t i a b l e and unconquer-able: Tamburlane: Techelles, l e t us march, And weary death with bearing souls to h e l l , I I ( V , i i i , 76 - 77) This i s not the aim that Machiavelli set his prince, either e x p l i c i t l y or by implication; I t i s , rather, one of the errors into which, Machiavelli warned, a prince may f a l l . Nevertheless, the d e t a i l s of the situations Tamburlane faces, and the working out of the c o n f l i c t s among the generals and n o b i l i t y suggest ah appreciation of event not unlike that of Machiavelli; and, i t i s c l e a r , Marlowe never abandons his i n -tention to rouse sympathy for the vigor and the grand scale of Tamburlane's actions. The q u a l i t i e s of Tamburlane, one might argue, are, except for c r aftiness and ruthlessness, those ascribed to any romantic of hero^legendary fame. This hero i s the fox, however, as well as the l i o n ; and he i s c e r t a i n l y no knight-errant pursuing the honor accorded the good and the brave. He has wit and elo-quence which he uses cunningly to his own advantage. He laughs at authority; and commits perfidy with aplomb. Further, he i s of lowly o r i g i n , and takes pride i n i t . A mere shepherd, - 9 0 -he sets himself up against emperors and kings, innocent of any f e e l i n g of g u i l t i n doing so; for he sees i n his own a b i l i t y the j u s t i f i c a t i o n for his deeds. He wins Theridamas and Teschelles, m i l i t a r y commanders of the Persians, to h i s camp; and then forms an a l l i a n c e with the unwary and over-confident Cosroe, against Cosroe's own brother, Mycetes, the king of Persia. He then adds to his glory i n the eyes of his supporters by outwitting t h i s prince, h i s a l l y . In a l l t h i s M a c h i a v e l l i 1 s concept of the prince, his p r i n c i p l e s of r e a l -i s t i c p o l i t i c s and his analysis of the processes of power are honored. Marlowe Indeed i n h i s presentation of Tamburlane seems to "...esteem rather those who are than those who can be generous; and those who would know how to govern states, rather than those who have the r i g h t to govern, but lack the knowledge". 6 The deliberate c a l c u l a t i o n , resolution and pride, ambition and daring of the deception of Sosroe are t y p i c a l of the prince as Machiavelli conceived him; and, defending his action, Tamburlane points to nature as would the prince of Machiavelli: Tamburlane: Nature, that framed us of four elements, Doth teach us a l l to have aspiring minds: Our souls, whose f a c u l t i e s can comprehend The wondrous architecture of the world, And measure every wandering planet's course, 6) Niccolo M a c h i a v e l l i , The Discourses. I , Dedication, p. 102 -91-S t i l l climbing a f t e r knowledge i n f i n i t e , And always moving as the r e s t l e s s spheres, W i l l us to wear ourselves, and never r e s t , U n t i l we reach the r i p e s t f r u i t of a l l , . That perfect b l i s s and sole f e l i c i t y , • The sweet f r u i t i o n of an earthly crown. ( I Tamburlane, I I , v i i , 18-29) Machiavelli had said: "For when men are no longer obliged to f i g h t from necessity, they f i g h t from ambition, which passion i s so powerful i n the hearts of men that i t never leaves them, no matter to what heights they may r i s e " . 7 Tamburlane, having r e a l i z e d "the sweet f r u i t i o n of ,an earthly crown" l a t e r , goes on to defy the gods and to aspire to a throne i n heaven. Ambition i s natural, says Tamburlane, even as ^ a c h i a v e l l i ; but i n h i s lack of any constructive p o l i t i c a l purpose, he f a i l s to measure up to the true Machiavellian prince who, the crea-ture of sound, p r a c t i c a l thought, i s concerned r e a l i s t i c a l l y with the founding of a stable state, based on popular favor as the guarantee of h i s own wealth and power. The tempo of the play mounts throughout the f i r s t part, with glory gathering about Tamburlane; but the turn away from admirable health, vigor and appealing self-assurance, the 7) Niccolo Machiavelli, op. c i t . , I, x x x v i i , p. 208 -92-growth of the perverse and therefore non-Machiavellian character-i s t i c s , begins to make i t s e l f f e l t even before the conclusion of part one. Tamburlane i s , from the beginning, quite n a t u r a l l y , denounced by the kings he defeats; but c r i t i c i s m l a t e r i s heard o from a captain of his own forces, and Zenocrate, his lfflving wife, grows anxious, though she continues to defend him. The evidence of a growing and habitual violence i n Tambur-lane and the reaction to i t within his camp i s s i g n i f i c a n t of the non-Machiavellian i n his character; for the increasing b r u t a l i t y of. his campaigns tends to j u s t i f y h i s enemies' denun-ciations and to undermine the love and admiration of his own following; The epithets hurled against him can no longer be attrib u t e d s o l e l y to the prejudice of the great by b i r t h . He encamps now only three days before a c i t y , which i s gaiaod to the ground i f i t r e s i s t s , **e has become indeed a scourge and te r r o r . The o r i g i n a l bright ambition to advance himself and his followers i s slimming. Nothing can now soften Tamburlane, beset by an insane~drive to exceed the achievements of a l l conquerors. The pleas of Zenocrate/ for the l i v e s of her father, her towns-f o l k and countrymen f a i l , as Tamburlane f i g h t s down a l l "thougts effeminate and f a i n t " , f i e r c e l y setting aside love and beauty, -93-which torment him. He i s unmoved by the appeal of the twenty vir g i n s of Demascus; and i s represented as turning women over for execution "feo h i s soldiery. Now, l i k e a man possessed, seized by a passion for war alone, he consecrates himself s o l e l y to conquest: Tamburlane: I thus conceiving, and subduing both (love and beauty) • • • • • • • • • Shall give the world to note, for a l l my b i r t h , That vi r t u e s o l e l y i s . the sum of glory, And fashions men with true n o b i l i t y . I ( V, i i , 120; 125-127) The use of virtue here, as i n Taraburlane's assurance to Techelles and others of his commanders whom he has made k i n g s — Tamburlane: Your bi r t h s s h a l l be no blemish to your fame, Bor v i r t u e i s the fount whence honor springs. I (IV, i v , 130-131) i s c e r t a i n l y that of Machiavelli; i t implies inherent power, health and vigor of mind and body, exceptional capacity, parti -c u l a r l y the attributes of the warrior i n extraordinary degree. The play was tremendously popular with the Elizabethans. I t apparently struck a note to which they were singularly sen-s i t i v e , s i n g u l a r l y responsive. Undoubtedly that note was the l i b e r a t i o n of the lowly from the oppressions of the great; the assertion of the r i g h t of the base-born to the riches of the earth; the declaration of independence of the national group from the control of imperial and papal power, of the i n d i v i d u a l -9k-i n short from the r e s t r i c t i o n s of feudalism. I t was the trumpet bla s t of the renaissance. Tamburlane was the de facto prince holding his p o s i t i o n by virtue of his a b i l i t y , and r e l y i n g on his own counsel and s k i l l i n warfare, and the v o l -\intary allegiance of the people. He appears, challenging a divided and incompetent group of rulers whose realm i s shot through with discontent and insubordination, and i s ravaged by invaders, even as I t a l y was when Machiavelli wrote, and as England was when Henry VII% landed at Muford &aven. Tamburlane, however, holds out no perspective of a new and better order; power alone interests him, as i t does a l l the romantic Machiavellians. Apparently i n d i f f e r e n t to the growing opposition, he p e r s i s t s i n his violence, and indulges more^/alid more i n self-admiration. He rants about himself and speaks of h i s divine essence; he i s made, he says, "arch monarch of the e a r t h . " b y the hand of Jove", not f o r "deeds of bounty and n o b i l i t y " , but to apply himself "In war, i n blood, i n death, i n cruelty". He w i l l , he says -...plague such peasants as r e s i s t i n me The power of Heaven's eternal majesty. I I ( IV, 1, 157-158) His determination to spread horror: I w i l l , with engines never exercis'd, Conquer, sack, and u t t e r l y consume Your c i t i e s and your,golden palaces -95-I w i l l p e r s i s t a te r r o r to the world* I I ( IV, i , 192-191).; 201) He carries t h i s program out with dreadful thoroughness i n Babylon. He double-crosses the governor of Babylon by o f f e r -ing him l i f e i n return for information, and when the informa-t i o n i s given he hangs the governor i n chains and has him shot. He hurls men, women and children into a lake of asphalt. He taunts his victims. He pe r s i s t s i n violence; a course f a t a l to a ^ j i n c e , M a e h i a v e l l i n a d observed, and one which was cer-t a i n l y a l i e n a t i n g the people, and uniting and increasing his enemies. Clearly the elements of perversity, extravagance and destructiveness of the romantic Machiavellian are becoming stronger* While i t can be argued that such scenes as those at Babylon <4*0* were designed possibly to t h r i l l and appeal the groundlings, or to raise the p i t c h of unrestrained conquering action to i t s extreme, they are consistent with the main argument presented here: that the development of Tamburlane appears as a l i m i t e d , imperfect r e f l e c t i o n of Machiavellian thought, which reveals i n Marlowe an appreciation of the daring, self-assurance, courage and ingenuity of his prince (which Machiavelli never f a i l e d to accord men of a b i l i t y ) but f a i l s to reveal any advocacy of constructive statemanship. Tamburlane exhibits the unbalanced excess that, Machiavelli warned, takes hold of a r u l e r who permits himself to ignore law and get l o s t i n self-esteem. Marlowe, however, one f e e l s , i s himself i n t o x i -cated by the excesses he describes. Tamburlane, i n part I of the play, i s the prototype of Machiavelli's man of v i r t u e , the new prince favored only by opportunity. He i s f e a r l e s s , confident, s k i l f u l i n war and diplomacy, open, free and generous with his followers whose fortunes he advances with his own. He i s authoritative and commanding, i n bearing, and eloquent i n speech. He i s capable, however, of deception and treachery when they serve h i s i n t e r e s t s , and he i s ruthless i n the punishment and destruction of those who oppose him. He honors r e l i g i o n i n that he rep-resents himself as "the scourge of god" and regards himself as favored by heaven; but the god he serves i s never c l e a r l y defined, and i s referred to as Jove, Mahomet, Majesty of Heaven, the god of thunder and revenge, and the immortal god. Tamburlane i s out to conquer the world, to humble emperors, to map continents, and to reorganize governments under the rul e of his followers appointed by him as kings. His triumphal pro-gress and the rapid growth of his following t e s t i f y to his -97-a b i l i t y and the popularity of h i s leadership. Part I of the play concludes with the sjmipathy for Tamburlane s t i l l i n the ascendant; and the truce with which i t comes to an end es-tablishes Tamburlane as the absolute prince, whose empire i s administered by kings deputized to rule under him; that i s , by a government which ^ a c h i a v e l l i describes as the most a d i f f i c u l t to conquer. Tamburlane, as part I I shows, however, f a l l s a v i c t i m to that f a u l t which Machiavelli notes so often brings about the downfall of otherwise capable men. He persists i n cruelty and becomes i n d i f f e r e n t to the favor of the people. He further makes the error of f a i l i n g to exterminate a l l members of the family of the prince he had overthrown, and makes possible the regrouping of his enemies under the leadership of t h e i r hereditary prince. A l l t h i s suggests the influence of Machiavelli. There i s , however, about Tamburlane, an extravagance and bombast that i s not of t h i s world, and must have been excessive even to some Elizabethan lovers of the "high-astounding" i n language and l i f e . I t seems l i k e l y , therefore, that Marlowe knew and used 8) The Prince, IV, 15-16 -98-Machiavelli's w r i t i n g s , but was for some reason impelled to preoccupy himself with the problems rather of excessive am-b i t i o n than of mature statesmanship. The destructiveness that was strong i n Tamburlane becomes dominant i n Barabas, the chief character of The Jew of Malta, Moved only by love of gold, Barabas^is prepared to resort to every subterfuge and every crime to save or recover h i s wealth. He exhibits i n d e t a i l the whole-hearted, headlong and unrepen-tant v i l l a i n y attributed to the t y p i c a l remantic Machiavellian of the Elizabethan stage; and he i s presented s p e c i f i c a l l y by Marlowe as an exponent of Machiavellian teaching. The prologue to The Jew of Malta i s spoken by Machia v e l l i , who introduces the play as the tragedy of a Jew, Who smiles to see how f u l l his bags are cramm'd; Which money was not got without my means. (Prologue, 30-32) The prologue rehearses the alleged c h a r a c t e r i s t i c s and views of Machiavelli. The soul of Machiavelli, we are t o l d , went to Prance to reside i n the Duke of Guise, the m i l i t a n t and notorious leader of theCatholic f a c t i o n i n Prance. Upon the death of Guise, we learn, M a c h i a v e l l i 1 s soul crossed to England, "to f r o l i c with i t s friends", by obvious inference, the English Catholics. The soul acknowledges that i t has -99-both friends and enemies, but that i t disdains the opinion of a l l . Those who c r i t i c i s e M achiavelli, we are assured, * secretly r e l y on h«m to guide them to the r e a l i z a t i o n of t h e i r ambition, p a r t i c u l a r l y i f they aim at pre-eminence i n the Catholic church. ;Further, those who reject him are destroyed by those who s t i l l follow his guidance. He i s , therefore, indispensable to success. He i s contemptuous of r e l i g i o n , laughs at b e l i e f i n auguries, and holds that "there i s no s i n but ignorance". He pointedly challenges the p r i n c i p l e of hereditary t i t l e to power, arguing Might f i r s t made kings, and laws were then most sure When, l i k e the Draco's, they were writ i n blood. (Prologue, 20-21) M i l i t a r y strength triumphs over learning, he i n s i s t s . , Primed with t h i s i n t e r p r e t a t i o n of Machiavellian doctrine, the audience views the career of the d i a b o l i c a l Barabas, whom they have been c a l l e d upon to he deserves, And l e t him not be entertained the worse Because he favors me (Machiavelli). (Prologue, 33-35) Anyone f a m i l i a r with the works of Machiavelli can appre-ciate the d i s t o r t i o n and ove r - s i m p l i f i c a t i o n of Machiavelli's presentation of the prince i n t h i s prologue. Marlowe has d e l i -berately selected the notorious representative of the enemies of Protestantism i n a neighbouring state as the abode of the -100 soul of Machiavelli. The Guise, i t should be remembered, was prominently associated with the Massacre of St. Bartholo-mew's Day, a mass Catholic outrage against the French Protes-tant party, which was supported by England. Marlowe, thus by the f a m i l i a r technique of those who seek to influence thought without resort to reason or demonstration, associates what he i s about to discuss with something' already abhorrent to the mind addressed, andjproceeds, by innuendo ?to ensnare everyone i n the net of suspicion,- although the Catholics are selected f o r a special smear. He then proceeds to the l i e d i r e c t , by saying ^ a c h i a v e l l i despised r e l i g i o n . Having demoralized his audience on the subject to be discussed, and ignored the broad general aims of Mac h i a v e l l i 1 s thesis^ Marlowe con-cludes with c i t i n g two fundamental points i n Machiavelli's thought: that power rests on force upon which law also de-pends, and that force i s greater, or more e f f e c t i v e i n achiev-ing one's aim, than i s learning, or the way of persuasion. The character he then selects as the model of Machiavellian thought and action i s an outcast^ an un-Chrisfcian Jew, and an avaricious merchant and money-lender. Prejudice could not be better barbed and winged. Barabas, the o r i g i n a l , f u l l y developed and grossest of u the"Machiavellian" v i l l a i n s i s a sti^dy of fiendishness. He i s avaricious, d i a b o l i c a l l y cunning and unscrupulous, lacking -101-i n any decent human f e e l i n g . He i s devoted only to money to which he w i l l s a c r i f i c e everything, including his only and lovely daughter, A b i g a i l . He i s quite without p o l i t i c a l s i g -n i f i c a n c e . Gold, not empire i s his object; contempt for Christians and triumph i n their discomfiture his pre-occupation; death i n a trap he set for others, his end., This play, however, The JexJ of Malta, Marlowe announces as an exposition of practice according to Machiavelli; and, indeed, many of the l i n e s of Barabas are b i t t e r and damning parodies of Machiavellian maxims. For example -Barabas: No, Barabas i s born of better chance And fram'd of f i n e r mould than common men, That measure naught but by the present time. A reaching thought w i l l search his deepest w i t s , And casts with cunning for the time to come; For e v i l s are apt to happen every day. ( I , i i , 219 - 22li) Barabas: Be r u l ' d by me, for i n extremity We ought to make bar of no po l i c y . ( I , i i , 272 - 273) f o r r e l i g i o n Barabas: Hides many mischiefs from suspicion. ( I , i , 281 - 282) Barabas: And when we g r i n we b i t e ; yet are our looks As innocent and harmless as a lamb's. ( I I , i i i , 21 - 22) Barabas: (To Ithamore) thou void of these affections Compassion, love, vain hope, and heartless fear; Be mov'd by nothing, see thou p i t y none, But to thyself smile when the Christians moan. ( I I , i l l , 1 7 0 - 173) -102-Barabas: No..Barabas.... ....since by wrong thou gott'st authority Maintain i t bravely by firm p o l i c y ; At l e a s t unprofitably lose i t not; For he that l i v e t h i n authority, And neither gets him friends nor f i l l s his bags, Lives l i k e the ass that Aesop speaketh of.... (V, i i , 3k - k-0) Barabas: S l i p not thine opportunity, for fear too l a t e Thou seek'st for much, but canst not compass I t . (V, i i , lj.5 - lj-6) Barabas: Thus loving neither, w i l l I l i v e with both, Making a p r o f i t of my p o l i c y ; And he from whom my most advantage comes, Shall be my f r i e n d . (V, i i , 111 - 111).) In these l i n e s a savage burlesque i s made of Machiavelli»s eulogy of foresight, p o l i t i c a l f l e x i b i l i t y and dissimulation. There i s a burlesque of his advice on the necessity to d i s c i -p line f e e l i n g i n the interest of r e a l i z i n g one's objective, and on the t a c t i c s one must adopt to r e t a i n a throne acquired by conquest; there i s a burlesque of Machiavelli's warning that one must defend and preserve one's own interests and•s own p o s i t i o n ; and on the arguments that merit requires opportunity, that one must choose one's a l l i e s or associates for the advantage they afford, and that f o r e s t a l l i n g i s the best means of thwarting a conspiracy. In a l l , the travesty of Machiavelli l i e s i n a t t r i b u t i n g to the executor of the actions an exclusively s e l f i s h , e v i l and destructive intent, - 1 0 3 -As has already been noted, absolute egotism and essential e v i l , so thoroughly represented i n Barabas are at the heart of the romantic Machiavellian as he becomes known on the Elizabethan stage. With these goes atheism, symbolized i n Barabas by his being a ^ew, committer of "unhallow'd deeds of Jews", by his frequent cursing of Christians, and r e j o i c -ing i n t h e i r discomfiture, and by the frenzied sort of hatred that possesses him: Barabas: so I l i v e , perish may a l l the world. (V, v, 10) Marlowe, i n The Jew of Malta p i l l o r i e d Machiavelli as a v i l l a i n and an ath e i s t , through the most powerful propaganda medium of the day, the stage. In doing so he moved a good d i s -tance from h i s p o s i t i o n i n r e l a t i o n to the thought of Machiavelli i n Tamburlane, i n which he chose to stress those aspects of the upstart prince — his resol u t i o n and daring — with which one could remain i n sympathy. In Doctor Paustus, he presented a learned man s e l l i n g his soul to the d e v i l i n exchange for a l i f e of domination over nature, which to the medieval mind was governed by God's law. Here i n essence i s the same attack launched i n The e^w of Malta: the charge i s egotism and love of Worldly m a t e r i a l i s t i c power; the demonstration i s destruct-iveness and self-d e s t r u c t i o n ; and the pattern of the in d i v i d u a l ' s -io4-development i s again that of Tamburlane and of Barabas. Paustus i s a man of humble o r i g i n who r i s e s to eminence by sheer a b i l i t y . He advances, however, not as a warrior or a man of wealth, but as a scholar. Like Tamburlane and Barabas he becomes a v i c t i m of his own boundless love of his p a r t i c u l a r worldly object - learning - p a r t i c u l a r l y the black art - and becomes more and more reckless and destructive as the inev i t a b l e ehd approaches. As i n the other two plays announcement i s made of the destiny of the chief character. The audience i s t o l d at the outset that Faustus, a man of humble o r i g i n , went to the uni-v e r s i t y of Wertenberg where he studied law, medicine and d i v i n i t y . Then, master of these a r t s , and "swoln with cunning, of a se l f - c o n c e i t " , he " s u r f e i t s upon cursed necromancy", while the "heavens conspire his overthrow". Marlowe then outlines the i l l u s i o n s that conceit and ambi-t i o n create: Faustus: 0, what a world of p r o f i t and delight, Of power, of honour, of omnipotence, Is promised to the studious a r t i s a n 1 A l l things that move between the quiet poles Shall be at my command: ( I , i , Sk - 5 8 ) 5 ^kk Christopher Marlowe, The Tragical History of Dr. Faustus, London, Mathuen & Co., Ltd., 1 9 3 2 . -io5-But his dominion that exceeds i n t h i s , Stretcheth as f a r as doth the mind of man; A sound magician- i s a might god: Here Paustus, t i r e Ibhy brains to gain a deity. ( I , i , 6 l - 614.) This i s the temper of Tamburlane, whose aim soared beyond earthly bounds and reached into heaven. But Paustus, l i k e Barabas, and unlike Tamburlane, had a sense of evil-doing, of desperation: Paustus: This night I ' l l conjure, though I die therefore. ( I , i , 167) His complacency returns and h i s pride grows as his spells succeed and L u c i f e r appears, to be his slave: Paustus: How p l i a n t i s t h i s Mephistopholis, P u l l of obedience and. humility 1 Such i s the force of magic and my s p e l l s : ( I , i i i , 21 - 33) and, l i k e Tamburlane, he becomes dangerous and meaningless i n his obsession wL th power: Paustus: To do whatever Paustus s h a l l command, Be i t to make the moon drop from her sphere, Or the ocean to overwhelm the world. ( I , i i i , 39-1+1) With such an aim, Paustus dedicates himself to Beelzebub, "the chief of H e l l " , and becomes through his pride i n wordly learning, wholly devoted to power, s e l f - l o v e , appetite and money. -106-The moral of Faustus* fate i s stated s p e c i f i c a l l y by the chorus: Chorus: Faustus i s gone: regard his h e l l i s h f a l l , Whose f i e n d f u l fortune may exhort the wise, Only to wonder at unlawful things, Whose deepness doth entice such forward wits To practise more than heavely power permits. (Epilogue, if - 8 ) In a l l t h i s the denunciation of irreverent and unbridled ambition finds expression; and Marlowe thus ultimately i n -terprets Machiavelli i n the terms voiced f i r s t by the Catholic R eform Movement and l a t e r with such abandon by G e n t i l l e t . In Barabas he v i l i f i e d Machiavelli through the drama as vehemently and i n as unprincipled a fashion as had G e n t i l l e t i n his book, the Contre-Machiavel. In Edward I I he seized upon English h i s -tory and i l l u s t r a t e d the anti-Machiavellian i n a p o l i t i c a l play; but i n i t he turned the in t e r p r e t a t i o n conceived by the champions of Catholic f e u d a l i s t s against themselves. In Edward I I Marlowe attempted to deal with p o l i t i c s and hi s t o r y seriously and r e a l i s t i c a l l y . He took a theme from the history of England, a segment of the r e a l i t y from which M a c h i a v e l l i 1 s mind was never detached, and for the f i r s t time d i s c i p l i n e d his genius to cope with experience and not with fantasy. He adapted the record of Edward II's reign as given i n Hol/inshed, and i n spite of the considerable l i b e r t i e s he -107-took with time he produced a play that was r e l a t i v e l y accurate h i s t o r y and powerful drama. Poetic bombast tended to be re-placed by the poetry of reason and reality. The theme of the play is the danger tohereditary monarchy— and consequently, i t i s inferred, to the common weal — inherent in strife between the king and the nobility. In the struggle of the feudal nobility to retain their control of Edward II, the Younger Mortimer — i n i t i a l l y one of the insurgent nobility striving to recover the influence of the king from the "upstarts" and "batterers" — Gaveston, the Spencers and Baldock — becomes the victim of his own ambition, and turns the fight for the re-storation of the feudal control of the monarch into what amounts to the usurpation of the throne by himself. Mortimer's role as a "Machiavellian" does not becoi® apparent until Act IV of the play, when the atmosphere of Intrigue and double-dealing becomes heavy whenever he appears, or the action of others is provoked by him. The play moves to its conclusion under the impetus of the genius of evil that became traditionally associated with "Machiavellianism" on the stage. The sequence of events during the balance of the play illustrates the increasingly diabolical character of Mortimer. 108-Escaping from the tower with the aid of Kent, brother to the king, he takes refuge in France, joining the queen at Paris* There, aided by the hospitality of the Earl of Hainault, he and the queen recruit French and German military aid for their re-turn to England end their attempt to depose the king and replace him by his son. By these ambitious plans, however, he alienates the young Prince Edward and Kent* With the invasion of England, he assumes leadership, though in the queen's name; and Leicester acts in Mortimer's name when he arrests the king at Neith. Mortimer now becomes anathema to the king. He is "That bloody man", and the companion of hell* Imprisoned under the care of Leicester, the king complains against "the ambitious Mortimer" and later, tormented by the incessant moving about which Mortimer orders as a means of preventing his rescue, the king cries -Edward: Will hateful Mortimer appoint no rest? (V, i i i , 5) When will the fury of his mind assuage? When will his heart be satisfied with blood? (V, i i i , 8 - 9 ) Although such epithets, as well as those of "tyrant" and 0 L O 9 -"traitor" had been bandied about by both sides during the scenes of struggle between the nobles and the king, from now on they accumulate around Mortimer, and are confirmed by his acts* The queen too develops as a dissembler and a would-be assassin at one with Mortimer in his wilful ambition; and i t remains only for them to call in the fictional character, Lightborn; created for the play by Marlowe to stamp Mortimer and Isabel as consciously developed romantic Machiavellians; for Light-born announces himself as a v i l l a i n trained in crime in Italy, and cunning in namelesssmurderous designs. If the features of the "Machiavellian" outlined by Miss Fellhelmer are recalled, i t will be seen that Mortimer, Isabel and Lightborn are drawn after the pattern she records* The opening words of Mortimer in Act V, scene Iv, "The king must die, or Mortimer goes down", int^Qiuces in f u l l the "Machiavell-ian", headstrong, ambitious, cunning, unscrupulous, egotistical, contemptuous of others and defiant to the last, consciously a wrong-doer* The significance of this trio to the tradition of "Ma-chavellian" villainy lies in the number of facets of this villainy that they reflect. Two of them are from the high-ranking nobility, close to the monarch; they move in their - l l C -development from discontent to ambition, and from ambition to obsession with power. The orown has in the end an Irresistible fascination for them. Seeking i t , they demonstrate increasing degrees of violence, cunning and cruelty. Overcome, they are unrepentant. Lightborn, the base-born one of the trio, is remarkable for the vulgarity of his pride in his art of assassination, his insensibility and his credulity. None of them have any aim other than that of advancing themselves to the highest attainable peaks of greatness. For the woman this is to be the companion and abettor, and sometimes the guide to a daring and cunning man; for the paid assassin i t is s k i l l and novelty in the art of murder. Al l are Indifferent to legitimate claims to what they seek, and to the damage their actions do to the lives of others. Together they make a com-posite "Machiavellian1* • The development of excessive ambition begins in Isabella only after she abandons hope of winning back the king's af-fections, alienated from her by the king's infatuation with Gaveston. Before she decides to seek foreign aid with which to win power for her son in England, she makes every effort to restore herself to the favor of the king. Alone and in the king's presence she declares her love and loyalty to him, and gives no encouragement to Mortimer's advances. Once she is -111-in France, however, she appears to feel that she has made an Irrevocable break with the king. She then becomes Mortimer's whole-hearted accomplice, and involves Prince Edward as an unwilling and helpless tool of his ambition* The front of legitimacy which Prince Edward1s t i t l e to the throne affords only enhances the dishonesty of Isabella and Mortimer, who are concerned chiefly with their own domina-tion and security* In the campaign against King Edward, for example, before the Spencers and Baldock have been seized and executed and, king transferred to Berkeley, Isabella and Mor-timer keep up the pretense of seeking to right the wrongs the king has committed against their country and of freeing the court from unwise counsellors; but with the imprisonment of the king their pretense is dropped* Mortimer: Fair xsabel, now have we our desire; The proud corrupters of the light-brain 1d king Have done their homage to the gallows. And he himself lies in captivity* Be rul'd by me, and we will rule the realm* (V, i i , 1 - 5 ) Isabel: so that my son be safe, Whom I esteem as dear as these mine eyes, Conclude against his father what thou wilt, And I myself will willingly subscribe* (V, I i , 17 - 20 ) 112-Mortimer: First would I hear news he were depos'd, And then let me alone to handle him* (V, i i , 21 - 22 ) There is a singular brutality and coarseness a bout that last line of MortImer's, like the snarl of a beastjgj fulljof unbridled savagery. The shield is down. Isabel should recoil; but she does not. On the contrary, interrupted by a messenger, she inquires with apparent sincerity about the health of the king; but when the Bishop of Winchester appears bearing the crown everything fades before her ambition. Isabel: (To the messenger) How fares my lord the king? Messenger: In health, madam, but f u l l of pensiveness. Isabel: Alas, poor soul, would I could ease his grief. (Enter the Bishop of Winchester with the crown) Thanks, gentle Winchester. (To the Messenger) Sirrah, be gone. ( V, i i , 21+ - 27) The appoarance of the crown, visible symbol of power, explodes pretense, and the messenger of Edward is unceremon-iously despatched. Isabel bursts into energetic action, she orders the young prince to be brought to her, and peremptorily demands a severer guard for the king. Inspired by her example, -113 Mortimer calls for Gurney and Mat^vis to take charge of the king, and prepare his assassination. Before they arrive Isabel asks pointedly: But, Mortimer, as long as he (the king) survives, What safety rests for us,or for my son? Mortimer places i t to her bluntly: Speak, shall he presently be dispatch1d and die? Isabel: I would he were, so i t were not by my means, (V, i i , 1|2 - kS ) Mat^rWis and Gurney carry on their diabolical task of trying to break down the mind and morale of the king; and Kent fai l s to free the king, is himself captured and sent to Mortimer, Mortimer, meanwhile, is aware that the prince also is his enemy: Mortimer: ¥et he that Is the cause of Edward*s death, Is sure to pay for i t when his son is of age, ( V , i v , k) That second prosaic and pedestrain line jars as much as the cowardly thought i t carries, Mortimer now resorts to cunning; and despatches the ambiguous Latin message to Gurney, inviting him to assassinate the king. And so we are led to Lightborn, called in by Mortimer to make sure the king is executed, and In a manner that will not reveal the cause of Isabel: -Ilk" death, Lightborn i s ^resolute", laughts at the suggestion that he might re l e n t i n face of the king, and boasts reassur-i n g l y to Mortimer: You s h a l l not need to give i n s t r u c t i o n s ; 'Tis not the f i r s t time I have k i l l e d a man, I learned i n Naples how to poison flowers; To strangle with a lawn thrust through the throa<8; To pierce the windpipe with a needle's point; Or whilst one i s asleep, to take a q u i l l And blow a l i t t l e powder i n the ears: Or open h i s mouth and pour q u i c k s i l v e r down. But yet I have a braver way than these. ( V, i v , 29 - 37 ) Lightborn w i l l not reveal his secret to the fascinated Mortimer, He i s as good as his word, however, i n the execution of the king, which he c a r r i e s through with a perverse jauntiness and professional pride. He i s , of course, assassinated by Gurney and Matrevis, upon orders from Mortimer, written i n L a t i n , and brought by Lightborn himself. The character of Mortimer i s that of the romantic "Machia-v e l l i a n " — the i n d i v i d u a l seized and driven by an insatiable demand f o r power, r e j o i c i n g wickedly i n each tritamph, prepared to resort to any crime or deception, and meeting h i s end, c y n i c a l l y f l i n g i n g a taunt, a boast or a curse. He i s of the kind, though not of the rank i n enormity, of Barabas, The v i l l a i n thus created and labelle d Machiavellian by Marlowe became the prototype f o r v i l l a i n y on the stage of -115-Ellzabethan England. He appears to be the reflection of the fear and hatred of the excessively ambitious individual that-haunted the minds of many in Elizabethan England, and particu-larly of those who championed the Tudor absolutism. Defined originally by the protagonists of medieval forms of govern-ment in their pamphlets and public denunciations of the new Tudor absolutism, he figured on the stage, when politically defined, as the enemy of the new renaissance absolute monarchy, as the irreconcilably ambitious noble, whose aim was selfish and whose object was oppression. Product of the disturbed conditions of the time, he was an extravagance and his career was brief. Marlowe had certainly caught the essentially revolution-ary quality of the conflict of his time, the desperation of the contenders and the Irrevocability of the outcome of the contention. In the dramatic poems, Tamburlane, The Jew of  Malta, and Dr. Fanstus he depicted this essenee in striking symbols from the fiel d of war, of commerce and of learning, and In poetic and extravagantly dramatic terms had sown ambi-tion gone wild. In Edward II in more moderate .terms and with some regard for historical reality, he dramatized the triumph of monarchy over both the nobility as a class and over the -116-single man of ambition: the governing principle of the pre-eminence of the monarch was confirmed in the triumph of Edward II over the nobility; and the villainy of the insurgent noble was stressed in the degeneration and downfall of Mortimer* Among the romantic Machiavellians of the Elizabethan stage, Shakespeare's Richard III holds a unique place. In the variety of ways In which he demonstrates ruthless self-assertion, he exceeds a l l other "Machiavellians" of the romantic school; while in the demonstration of a soul in the agony of self-knowledge and despair he does not f a l l short of Faustus in his final hour; but Richard's agony is rooted in real human dilemna and not in the conflict of the human soul torn between the powers of heaven and hell, or goaded by some driving passion. Richard comes to his position logi-cally, and in freedom from infatuation; and in his pitiless self-examination reveals a human conscience and modesty that Is absent from other "Machiavellians". Bowing to facts, not passions, Richard masters the art of unprincipled dissimulation and develops a nearly im-pervious self-assurance. In his dealings with women, old and young, in affairs of the heart and in affairs of state -117' he Is the master psychologist and cynic* He can seduce a young woman with shameless art, as he does ^ ady Anne, break down with equally shameless equivocation the rooted hate of an outraged mother, as he does that of Queen Elizabeth, with exquisite aplomb outface every court schemer, triumphantly stage a transparently organized demonstration of public support, which fools no one and yet achieves its end, with finely tempered cynicism play so astute a politician as Buck-ingham until open contempt compels him to revolt* But in his exacting appreciation of his own s k i l l , Richard reveals also an agonized disillusion* In triumphing over humanity he is breaking his own heart* He penetrates too deeply into the human soul, including his own, for his own peace of mind; he is too, too conscious of human frailty* After he has won Anne, he recoils upon his own achievement: Richard: What I I, that killed her husband and his father. To take her in her heart's Bxtreme hate; With curses in her mouth,^ -t earX in her eyes, The bleeding witness of^her/hatred by; Having God, her conscience, and these bars V against me, And I no friends to back my suit withal But the plain devil and dissembling looks, And yet to win her, — a l l the world to nothing* Hal Hath she forgot already that brave prince, Edward, her lord, whom I, some three months since, -118 Stabbed in my angry mood at Tewksbury? A sweeter and a lovelier gentleman-Framed in the prodigality of nature, Young, valiant, wise, and, no doubt, right fcoyal — The spacious world cannot again afford: And will she yet abase her eyes on me, That cropt the golden prime of this sweet prince, And made her widow to a woful bed? Gn me, whose a l l not equals Edward's moiety? On me, that halt and am mis-shapen, thus? My dukedom to a beggarly denier, I do mistake my person a l l this while: Upon my l i f e , she finds, although I cannot. Myself to be a marvellous proper man* ( I, i i , 2 3 0 - 2 5 ^ ) The mockery of the Inveterate realist seizes him. He will get a mirror; obviously he has failed to appreciate himself. He cries: Shine out, fair sun, t i l l I have bought a glass. That I may see my shadow as i t pass. ( I, i i , 2 6 2 - 2 6 3 ) He triumphs as cruelly in his own discomfiture as he does in the discomfiture of his victims. As a close examination of his career will show, he stands apart from other romantic Machiavellians in the logic of his being. Other romantic Machiavellians exemplify excessive, irrational ambition, love of power, greed, pride; a l l are the victims of illusion, a l l are sealed up in egotism. Richard is denied the comfort of illusion; he is the victim of too clear a vision of the facts. - 1 1 9 -He is a man brimful of l i f e , yet condemned by monstrous physical deformities to isolation from a l l the delights of love and sweet companionship, Hisshapen in body, he is yet endowed with amazing physical and mental energy, • A warrior of such outstanding ability that his father, the Duke of York, commends him above a l l his brothers for his prowess in battle, he is also Intellectually the superior of a l l those with whom he associates. He is shrewd, quick-witted, sagacious, and above a l l a lover of action, mental and physical. While war rages he has f u l l scope for his energies; but when peace spreads over the land he becomes a caged spirit, alien and alone. Presented to us at fi r s t in the second part of Henry VI as one of Richard, Duke of York's valiant sons, he appears, until the humiliating death of his father at the hand of Queen Margaret and her followers, a high-spirited, shrewd and courageous youth. In the parliament scene, when the Duke of York has Henry VI at his merey, Richard is urgent in his demand that York act to assert his advantage and claim^ the crown* When,under Queen Margaret's influence, Henry VI is moving to rescind his oath to recognize the Duke of York as heir to the throne, Richard is the one that supplies the -120 argument that would allow his father to enforce his t i t l e to the crown with a clear conscience. Finally, i n the decisive battle between the Yorkists and the Lancastrians, Richard i s the son who i s represented as the fearless, tireless and generous fighter, seeking out his father's chief foes for battle, and coming again and again to the rescue of one or another of his father's leading a l l i e s . In Act I, scene 1 of the third part of Henry VI, the Duke of York says of him, "Richard hath best deserved of a l l my son!". (I, i , 17)« Although he i s the youngest, Richard has displayed more spectacular courage and greater i n i t i a t i v e than have his elder brothers. He appears, indeed, more as the potential true Machiavellian prince than as the romantic v i l l a i n . While his father l i v e s , indeed, Richard does nothing that suggests either the cripple or the criminal; and his grief at his father's death i s impressive for i t s depth and sincerity, and for the determination he shows, above that of his brothers to take revenge upon those responsible for his father's humiliating end. The change i n Richard to inveterate self-seeking ambition, or romantic Machiavellianism, sets i n with the marriage of Edward to Elizabeth Woodville, Lady Grey, and the pendency Edward immediately displays to favor the members of her family •121-before his brothers, Edward endows his wife's brother with one of the greatest estates in the land, and makes the most advantageous marriages for her sons. Further, Edward so af-fronts Warwick, one of the most eminent and powerful lords of England, by his marriage, that sharp criticism i s evoked from both Clarence and Richard. Underlying Richard's turn away from loyalty to his family then, is his brother/) Edward's own treason to his family, and the certainty that Edward's marriage renders irrational any hope Richard k might harbor of ineriting the throne, or of long enjoying the advantages of his birth* The remarkably human penetration and realism of Richard's thinking, which distinguishes him from other Machiavellians of the romantic school, now appear. Facing the facts of Edward's marriage and his favoritism for the Rivers family, Richard considers the alternative ways of l i f e lying open to him. Bereft of power, he sees himself also, by the harsh hand of nature, bereft of a l l the a t t r i -butes that make love and the pleasures of company attainable. He is a cripple. Ruthlessly he catalogues his deformities: a withered arm, a hunched back, unequal legs; and he laughs 122-to scorn dreams of, being beloved. Nature, he notes mocking-l y , had disproportioned him i n every part. And he comes to h i s conclusion: Then, since t h i s earth affords no #oy to me, But to command, to check, to o'erbear such As are of better person than myself, I ' l l make my heaven to dream upon the crown, And whiles I l i v e t'account t h i s world but h e l l , U n t i l my misshaped trunk that bears t h i s head, Be round impaled with a glorious crown. ( I l l Henry VI, I I I , i i , 1 6 5 - 1 7 1 ) Behind Richard's determined f i g h t f o r power, then, l i e s despair of i n h e r i t i n g the crown, a j u s t i f i a b l e resent-ment against Edward's betrayal of his brothers' i n t e r e s t s , and despair of personal happiness. His misanthropy thus has a keenly f e l t and natural explanation. His i s o l a t i o n from a l l human attachment eats into him, u n t i l the triumph of h i s a b i l i t i e s alone seems to him to of f e r consolation. He be-comes, as i t were, a spectator of his own "policy " , appre-c i a t i n g , i f not enjoying the success of h i s s u b t l e t i e s , c r u e l t i e s and stratagems. His art of dissimulation, as he -himself claims, i s supreme; for i t i s clear that he imposes himself upon others as thoughtful, gracious, soft-hearted, ingenuous or pious, as he chooses to represent himself. Just as h i s exacting examination of himself, which -123-drove him to the conclusion'that happiness was not for him, revealed i n him the presence of a natural hope of happiness, so the existence i n him of the p o s s i b i l i t y of goodness i s suggested i n the confusion into which he f a l l s a f t e r his g r u e l l i n g argument with Queen Elizabeth over h i s desire to make s u i t to her daughter. Elizabeth turns every shaft of deceit, hypocrisy or equivocation that he h u r l s , exposing hi s dishonesty r e l e n t l e s s l y ; so that when she f i n a l l y agrees to t r y to influence her daughter i n h i s favor, she has l e f t him stripped of every pretense. Following upon t h i s interview, Richard receives a succession of messengers a l l bringing bad news. Apparently unnerved, he Issues contradictory orders, or f a i l s to give necessary i n s t r u c t i o n s . Although h i s recovery i s r a p i d , one f e e l s that h l a s h e l l of indifference has been penetrated by Elizabeth's sharp rejoinders, for i t i s not consistent with h i s character that merely bad news should f r i g h t e n him. Danger but threatens yet, and up to t h i s point danger has never dismayed him; nor does he In the end allow even the terrors of h i s gho^stly v i s i t a t i o n s to rob him of h i s readiness for b a t t l e . On the contrary, Richard argues with himself i n a very natural though desperate manner, following -12k" the v i s i t a t i o n of th© ghosts. Unlike other romantic Machiavel-l i a n s , he voices not the outcry of a tormented soul fearing h e l l but that of the miserable and i s o l a t e d i n d i v i d u a l , con-scious of complete friendlessness. He cri e s out, "Have mercy, Jesu I ", but t h i s i s an exclamation of habit; i t i s hi s behaviour among men that bothers him. Richard: 0 coward conscience, how dost thou a f f l i c t me I For a moment he allows the color of the l i g h t to frighten him; i t i s blue, reputedly the sign of the presence of an e v i l s p i r i t . BulThe does not spend a moment on the supernatural. "What do I fear?", he asks. There i s no one by; no one but himself; and he loves himself. But there i s a murderer by; himself; there i s a perjurer by: himself; there i s a v i l l a i n g u i l t y of a thousand sins; himself. His r e l e n t l e s s l y r e a l -i s t i c and r a t i o n a l mind w i l l not allow himself escape from a single accusation; nor w i l l i t allow himself to deny h i s continuing s e l f - l o v e , even though he i s without p i t y f o r himself i n h i s deep misery. There i s no creature loves me Is h i s l a s t desperate conclusion. -125' When Ratcliff enters his tent to waken him, he leaps in terror. Zounds 1 Who is there? His f i r s t concern then is to sound out the loyalty of his supporters. Will they prove true? He doubts i t , and sets out therefore, with Ratcliff to eavesdrop on his army, and return-ing, wants corroboration from Ratcliff upon what they have overheard. He allows himself to acquiesce, in an almost simpl minded fashion, in the report that Richmond knows nothing of warfare; and then lets himself f a l l into wondering i f the dull weather is ominous. Norfolk's call to arms, however, brings him to action at once, as though he were relieved to be re-quired to do something. His orders are decisive and command-ing; his self-assurance revives, and his address to his troops is" f u l l of scorn for the enemy. One feels, however, that he knows he is doomed, but that he will go down fighting, and enjoying the battle. No other Machiavellian of the romantic type gives so natural an explanation of his behaviour. Each is obsessed with,the love of power; but no other is so clearly denied by nature and circumstance a l l alternatives to despair. Richard -126 sees himself in hell, i n a land of briars, lost, alone, cut off from a l l but the resources of his own being, and doomed to suffer torment in hacking his way to the object that alone promises reward — the crown. He can sit down and weep, or he can fight. He chooses to fight; and to fight when his own common sense tells him he is irrational. His recital of the attributes his role requires pic-tures the Machiavellian as Gentillet defined him, and as Barabas demonstrated him: Why, I can smile, and murder whiles I smile; And cry 'Content' to that which grieves my heart; And wet my cheeks with a r t i f i c i a l tears, And frame my face to a l l occasions: I ' l l drown more sailors than the mermaids shall; I ' l l slay more gazers than the basilisk; If11 play the orator as well as Nestor; Deceive more s l i l y than Ulysses could£ And, like a Slnon, take another Troy: I can add colours to the chameleon; Change places with Proteus for advantages; And set the murderous Machiavel to school* Can 1 do this and cannot get a crown? ( IIP Henry VI, III, i i , 182 - 19^) 1 0 Although;Richard falls, in his completely unregenerate character, into the pattern of the Machiavellian vi l l a i n set by Marlowe, he manages to remain convincingly human, and free 10) William Shakespeare, "Henry VI, Part III", Works, 1 9 3 8 . -127-from the d i a b o l i c a l gloating^Barabas or even Tamburlane, Perhaps t h i s i s because Shakespeare dealt so deeply i n the human heart as i t warmly beats and throbs, 'and because he was reincarnating an h i s t o r i c a l character apparently for a p r a c t i c a l reason — the d i s c r e d i t i n g of the l a s t of the Yorkist kings. Certain i t i s that the character of Richard I I I convincingly suggests the kind of mental turmoil con-ceivably accompanying the c a r e e r of a r e a l tyrant who, l i k e Agathocles, Oliverotto d a Permo, or Severus, a l l referred to by Machia v e l l i , commanded admiration f o r t h e i r courage and t h e i r c r a f t , but merited infamy only for the s t e r i l i t y of t h e i r object. Richard, l i k e a l l Machiavellians of the romantic school, f a l l s through the excess of h i s own c r u e l t i e s and frauds. In the completeness of h i s characterization, he i s the counter-part, as i n h i s q u a l i t i e s as a r u l e r he i s the antitheses of Henry V, Shakespeare's supreme representation of the true Machiavellian. Both are i s o l a t e d , I resolute i n d i v i d u a l s ; but the one i s i s o l a t e d and motivated by despair; the other by the greatness of his conception of the r e s p o n s i b i l i t i e s of the i n d i v i d u a l c a l l e d to the exercise of power. •128-Chapter V Real Machiavellianism — Ben Jonson I f our stage Machiavellian v i l l a i n proves himself v i l l a i n to the true Machiavellian, must i t be concluded that the stage of Elizabethan England f a i l e d e n t i r e l y to Machiavelli intended them to be understood? Irving Ribner, w r i t i n g upon the influence of Machiavelli on Sidney 1 , ex-presses the opinion that "His (Machiavelli's) ideas were a pervasive influence i n Elizabethan thought and w i l l , upon investigation, be no doubt found r e -f l e c t e d i n the works of many of the other writers of the age,......" 2 I t w i l l be the purpose of t h i s chapter to demonstrate that a genuine appreciation of the p o l i t i c a l outlook expressed by Machiavelli did indeed f i n d expression i n the plays con-temporary with those of Marlowe, or following closely a f t e r 1) I r v i n g Ribner, "Machiavelli and Sidney: The Arcadia of 1950," Studies i n Philology, the University of North Carolina Press, 19^9 . 2) I b i d . - p. 172 129 them* F i r s t of the great Elizabethan dramatists, Marlowe^T) i n i t i a t e d the t r a d i t i o n of distorted Machiavellianism; l a s t of the great Elizabethan dramatists, Ben Jonson dramatized the p o l i t i c a l intrigues of ancient Rome with an eye that measured the participants with an o b j e c t i v i t y almost as detached as that of Mac h i a v e l l i , and with an appreciation for s k i l f u l manoeuvring on a par with h i s . In the two frankly p o l i t i c a l plays by Jonson, Sejanus (1603) and C a t i l i n e His Conspiracy ( l 6 l l ) the l i n e s f r e -quently are paraphrases of the statements of Machia v e l l i , and the passions and pers o n a l i t i e s reveal themselves con-s i s t e n t l y i n p o l i t i c a l s i t u a t i o n s , Sejanus t e l l s the story of the p o l i t i c a l association and r i v a l r y of two powerful men i n the Roman state: Tiberius, the emperor, and h i s favourite, Sejanus, a man of common b i r t h , but experienced i n the a f f a i r s of Rome and raised by the emperor to a p o s i t i o n of influence i n the Roman state. The chief protagonist i s Sejanus, whose ambition to succeed Tiberius i n i t i a t e s the action of the play and provokes Into motion the p o l i t i c a l talent of the emperor whose decline i n t o idleness and debauchery has not robbed him of h i s state--130-c r a f t . The action of the play takes place i n a period of p o l i t i c a l corruption. Popular discontent and disapproval of the emperor have produced adherents f o r the cause of the house of Germanicus, next i n l i n e f o r the imperial crown. The play, therefore, opens to the audience p o l i t i c a l Rome, seething with int r i g u e and unrest, and f e s t e r i n g with corruption and debauchery. A group of c i t i z e n s innocent of acts against the emperor, but c r i t i c a l of him, and i n sympathy w i t h the claims of the house of Germanicus to the succession, i s the conscience of the play; and, appearing as part of the crowd, or meeting i n the palace or on the streets, points the moral. In Act I , scene I , one of these^Sabinus, forecasts the outcome of events: Sabinus: Tyrants 1 arts Are to give f l a t t e r e r s grace; accusers power; That those may seem to k i l l whom they devour. ( I , I , 70 - 72) 3 This i s p r e c i s e l y the theme of the play; i t i s also, i n 3) Ben Jonson, "Sejanus", Ben Jonson, Oxford, The Clarendon Press, 1932, Vol. 1+,. - 1 3 1 -b r i e f M a c h i a v e l l i 1 s advice on conspiracies ^, and on the prince's need for exeeutionars to take r e s p o n s i b i l i t y for acts of violence and repression i n the i n t e r e s t s of the state, ^ Tiberius, the apparently unwary, and c e r t a i n l y the dissolute prince, plays with the aspiring Sejanus as a cat plays with a mouse. He meets subtlety with sublety, dissembling with dissembling, c r u e l t y w i t h c r u e l t y , and proves himself i n the end the stronger, Jonson's character-drawing and unfolding of p l o t are i n the r e a l i s t i c vein of Mach i a v e l l i , Sejanus, the would-be usurper, i n f u l l career toward the imperial t i t l e , has been appointed the emperor's deputy at Rome during the absence of Tiberius, He i s taking t h i s opportunity to s e l l o f f i c e s and favors, and bribe the guard as a means of b u i l d i n g aj personal following while he secretly prepares to bring about the death of the emperor's son and h e i r , Drusus, and to marry Drusus' wife. People, advanced from obscurity, Machiavelli and h i s t o r y had warned, and promoted to power by the favor of a prince, develop, not gratitude, but ambition. ^ Such people must be k) Niccolo M a c h i a v e l l i , The Discourses, I I I , v i , lj.3lj.-ij.35 5 ) Raleigh i s quoted by Strathmann, S i r Walter Raleigh,as r e f e r r -ing to t h i s maxim, p, lolj.; also The Prince, x i x , 82, 6 ) The Discourses, I I I , JLp.i|_—lp.5 -132-allowed to imagine that t h e i r schemes are succeeding so long as he against whom the conspiracy i s directed cannot with safety act against them. While' appearing not to know of the conspiracy, the threatBndd prince must i n i t i a t e counter-measures s e c r e t l y ; and w^  en the time i s r i p e , act with dispatch against i t , 7 This, Tiberius does, feeding Sejanus with hopes and continued favors u n t i l the moment of h i s exposure and execution, Jonson, an i n t e l l e c t u a l e g o t i s t , as an a r t i s t s e l f -consciously dramatizes h i s learning and h i s ideas. He pointedly introduces Tiberius to the audience as a dissembler; Tiberius f i r s t appears on the stage ostentatiously refusing to be treated as a god and protesting that he i s the servant of the senate. That h i s d u p l i c i t y may be f u l l y appreciated by the audience, Jonson has his, bystanders, Cordus and Arruntius remark: Cordus: Rarely dissembled! Arruntius: P r i n c e - l i k e to the l i f e , ( I , 395 ) I t i s thus made indisputably clear that i n Tiberius one has the " p o l i t i c k e prince", cautious, cunning and f u l l y aware of the dangers of his p o s i t i o n ; and the b a t t l e of wits proceeds 7) The Discourses, I I I , -133 between Sejanus and the emperor with the audience keyed to appreciate the duel of wits# In the scene between Tiberius and Sejanus (Act II, Sc. II) in which Tiberius skilfully uses Sejanus' own ambition to prompt him to recommend the extermination of the Germanici, the house next in line after Tiberius' son for the imperial t i t l e , the arguments for ruthless action put so bluntly in Chapter XVIII of The Prince, are reviewed: Tiberius: When the master prince Of a l l the world, Sejanus, saith he fears, Is i t not fatal? Sejanus: Yes, to those are feared* Tiberius: And not to him? Sejanus: Not, i f he wisely turn That part of fate he holdeth, fi r s t on them* Tiberius: That, nature, blood, and laws of kind forbid. Sejanus: Do policy and state forbid it? Tiberius; No* Sejanus: The rest of poor respects, then let go by; State is enough to make the act just, them guilty. Tiberius: Long hate pursues such acts* Sejanus: Whom hatred frights. Let him not dream on sovereiganty* Tiberius: Are rites Of faith, love, piety, to be trod down, Forgotten, and made vain? Sejanus: A l l for a crown* ( II, 178 - 185) -134-This i s sound Machiavellian sentiment up to a point; but the l i n e s immediately following show that Jonson, l i k e so many others, has overlooked the q u a l i f y i n g r e s t r a i n t s that Machiavelli urges upon the prince that would win security and l a s t i n g fame instead of the name of tyrant. Jonson shows that he i s discussing tyranny and not pr i n c e l y r u l e of a bene-f i c e n t type when he has Sejanus continue: The prince who shames a t y r a n t 1 s name to bear Sh a l l never dare do any thing, but fear; A l l the command of sceptres quite doth perish, I f i t hegins r e l i g i o u s thoughts to cherish: Whole empires f a l l , swayM by those nice respects; I t i s the license of dark deeds protects Ev»n states most hated, when no laws r e s i s t The sword, but that i t acteth what i t l i s t . ( I I , 1 7 8 * 1 8 5 ) Tyranny, Machiavelli understood as the s a c r i f i c e of public welfare and state security to personal i n t e r e s t ; Tiberius and Sejanus are obviously speaking as tyrants who are i n d i f f -erent to the hatred of the people and r e s t , or propose to rest t h e i r power e n t i r e l y on force and without regard to law. As has been shown, Machiavelli regarded tyranny as the e v i l side of p r i n c e l y r u l e , as princely r u l e i n a state of decadence and 8 ) The Prince, XVII, 7 i f . -135-doomed to suffer disaster through the loss of the support of the people* The conversation of Tiberius and Sejanus continues, cold-blooded, s e l f - i n t e r e s t e d and calc u l a t i n g on both sides, Tiberius leading Sejanus on by a pretended mildness to demand ever more stringent measures against the Germanici* He causes Sejanus at length to expose his own ambition to do away with possible r i v a l s * Using the arguments approved by Machiavelli Sejanus points out that to compass the downfall of the r i v a l Germanici, Tiberius must advance them, make them believe that they are more favored and secure than ever* Then, having won over one or two of t h e i r supporters to act as witnesses against them, he should expose them and execute them* Tiberius pretends to be hesitant and asks i f people cannot be won by henefits* Sejanus, as would Ma c h i a v e l l i , remarks that the wolf cannot be won away from his nature and that benefits do not make people l o y a l * Pursuing the p o l i c y , advocated by Sejanus himself, of giving his secret enemy enough rope to hang himself, Tiberius accepts the proposal that he go on a journey from Rome* Be-fore leaving, however, he c a r e f u l l y takes stock of h i s p o s i t i o n , and appoints Macro, a notoriously unscrupulous schemer and -136-criminal to remain i n Rome as his spy, to watch the move-ments of Sejanus, Tiberius' r e f l e c t i o n s here are frequently those expressed i n Machiavelli. Thus Machiavelli notes; "A prince, therefore should never bestow so much authority upon his friends but that there should always be a c e r t a i n distance between them and himself, and that there should always be something l e f t for them to desire; otherwise they w i l l almost i n v a r i a b l y become victims of th e i r • own imprudence,...." 9 Compare t h i s statement with Tiberius' r e f l e c t i o n : Tiberius: *Tis then a part of supreme s k i l l to grace -No man too much; but hold a ce r t a i n space Between the ascender's r i s e , and thine own f l a t , Lest when a l l round be reach'd, h i s aim be that. ( I I I , 6^ 3 -646) Machiavelli says: "These (conspiracies) I say, have generally for t h e i r originators the great men of the state, or those on terms of f a m i l i a r i n t e r -course with the prince. None other, unless they are madmen, can engage In conspiracies; for men of low condition, who are not i n t i -mate with the prince have no chance of success, not having the necessary convenience for the execution of t h e i r p l o t s " . 10 Comments Tiberius: Tiberius: Those are the dreadful enemies we raise With favours, and make dangerous with praise; 9) The Discourses, I I I , v i , 10) The Discourses, I I I , v i , 413-441* -137-The injured by us may have w i l l a l i k e , But ' t i s the favourite hath the power to s t r i k e ; ( I I I , 637 - 6I4.O) The P a r a l l e l here i s so close as to make one suspect Jonson had recently read M a c h i a v e l l i . The duel of wit and int r i g u e between Tiberius and Sejanus moves to. i t s climax i n a welter of t r i c k e r y and double-dealing. Sejanus, through h i s agent, L a t i a r i s , t r i c k s Sabinus, a supporter of the Germanic!, i n t o a treasonable utterance against Tiberius, and has him arrested. He further i n c i t e s the ambition of Agrippina's sons, Nero and Drusus, s t i r r i n g them to mutual suspicion, and to impatience with the emperor. Ca l i g u l a , the t h i r d son of Agrippina alone escapes capture by Sejanus' agents by throwing himself on the mercy of the emperor. Meanwhile the emperor, Tiberius> has been demonstrating 1 1 h i s s k i l l i n confusing the minds of men. He issues contra-dictory orders, promotes both friends and enemies of Sejanus, issues and cancels instructions i n rapid succession, and creates amongst the people generally and those who serve him the greatest consternation and uncertainty. Sejanus, however, appears to continue a triumphal advance. Lepidus sees i n 11) The Prince, x v i i i , 71+. -138-the confusion "Tiberius' a r t " . Lepidus: For having found his favourite grown too great, And with h i s greatness strong; that a l l the soldiers Are, with t h e i r leaders, made a l l h i s devotion; That almost a l l the senate are h i s creatures, Or hold on him t h e i r main dependencies, Either f o r benefit, or hope, or fear; And that himself hath l o s t much of his own, By parting unto him; and, by th' increase Of h i s rank l u s t s and rages, quite disarmed Himself of love, or other public means, To dare*an open contestation; His subtlety hath chose t h i s doubling l i n e , To hold him even i n : not so to fear him, As wholly put him out, and yet give check Unto h i s further boldness. In mean time, By h i s employments, make hira, odious Unto the staggering rout, whose, a i d , i n f i n e , He hopes to use, as sure, who, when they sway Bear down, o'ertunn a l l objects i n t h e i r way. (IV, ~ 472) In t h i s analysis of Tiberius' motives, Lepidus* reasoning c l o s e l y p a r a l l e l s that of Machiavelli. Tiberius, Lepidus f e e l s , has discovered that "The Author of an others greatnes i s his n 12 owne deeaye"; further, that the l i c e n t i o u s l i f e of Tiberius has l o s t him the support of the people, ^ 3 and rendered him weak i n the face of the threat of Sejanus. Mach i a v e l l i , i n -deed, had warned that " . . . . i t behooves a prince to use-that d i s c r e t i o n whereby he may avoyde the i n f amie e s p e c i a l l l e of such vices as may weken his power, or hazarde the losse of h i s p r i n c i p a l i t i e . . . . " l l j . 1&) The Prince, I I I , llj-15 13) Ibid, xix,' 78 - 79. 14) XhTd*. xv, 67 . -139-As Tiberius had f a i l e d to act with t h i s d i s c r e t i o n , and had l o s t the hearts of the common people, he had just cause to fear conspiracies and was forced to resort to delay, subtleties and manoeuvring to ready himself to break the assault of Sejanus,• He also undertook, according to Lepidus, to bring hatred upon Sejanus by giving him unpop-ula r tasks to f u l f i l , honoring the p r i n c i p l e that "...princes should dispatch those things by , th e i r deputyes which w i l l move envie..." l b ..The success of the art of Tiberius appears i n Sejanus' ool^loquy with which Act V begins. Sejanus i s quite over-powered with e l a t i o n : at each step, I f e e l my advanced head Knock out a star i n heaven. ' ( V, 8 - 9 ) Sejanus i s now impatient f o r more obstacles to overcome, so that his capacities may be worthily t r i e d and proven, f o r even the attainment of the imperial crown now seems hardly enough. Touched now with extravagance, he i s the f a m i l i a r vaunting h e r o - v i l l a i n of the plays of Marlowe; and the audience i s prepared for his destruction. He i s , one should note, 15) The Prince, x i x , 8 0 . 16) I b i d , xix," 82 - 3 4 0 -built upon but one of the types of men seeking power, and not the one that Machiavelli held up as the model prince. The unrolling of the plot exposes Sejanus as an atheist, who scoffs at auguries and questions the power of a l l the gods save Fortune; and when Fortune averts her face, scorns even her. He prepares to advance to his object by his own powers alone* His credulity, however, is as great as his conceit* When, for example, he learns that a special senate< has been called without his knowledge, fear stabs him to the heart; but he recovers self-assurance instantly upon being informed by his enemy, Macro, that the emperor's purpose Is to raise him to s t i l l higher office* The depth of the corruption of the state in Which Sejanus and Tiberius flourish, Is exposed by Macro's midnight missions throughout Rome on the eve of the special senate meeting* Now i t is shown that the officials, soldiers and common lackeys that could be bought by Sejanus are equally open to the appeal of Macro's bribery and the terror of imperial reprisal. Scenes i i , i i i , v, v i , v i i , and v l i i of Act V usher before the audience a milling, swift-moving throng of servants and messengers, consuls and other agents of the government, mostly under the direction of Macro, bearing letters or whispered -i4i-messages about to supporters of both sides i n the contest f o r power. They appear as the very embodiment of Jonson 1 s i n -credible a b i l i t y to contrive the most complex network of r i v a l r i e s . Their work leaves the stage set f o r the climax of SeJanus' career, as duped, trapped and deprived of a l l support he stands helpless and exposed before the senate. The l e t t e r which the praetor reads out to the senate i n the l a s t act of the play would do honour to Machiavelli him-s e l f . Reeking of f a l s e modesty, f l a t t e r y and insincere con-cern for the people, the l e t t e r successfully guides the corrupt senators i n t o assuming r e s p o n s i b i l i t y f o r the des-t r u c t i o n of Sejanus. S k i l f u l l y i t e n l i s t s the senators' sympathy and p i t y f o r the absent emperor, and promotes i n them s a t i s f a c t i o n with themselves as guardians of the state. Tiberius' professed leniency towards those who slander him r e l i e v e s from fear each one who has thought c r i t i c a l l y of him],: while his promise of severity towards serious offenders unites a l l who are innocent of conspiracy i n his support. Having thus prepared the senators, the l e t t e r raises the name of Sejanus, reminds the senators of the honor and power to which he has been advanced, apologises fo r the p o s s i b i l i t y that the emperor has been too generous. -U|2-and expresses the hope that Sejanus may have proved deserving* I t then admits that the emperor has possibly endangered him-s e l f and even offended some by so preferring Sejanus. I t then expresses the emperor's regret that Sejanus has been so ruthless toward the house of Germanicus, noting that t h i s cruelty makes i t impossible f o r the emperor now to exercise clemency, except by appearing weary of violence. The l e t t e r then suggests that some people might think Sejanus was seek-ing his own ends i n v "...the strengths he hath made to himself, by the praetorian s o l d i e r s , by his f a c t i o n i n court and senate, by the o f f i c e s he holds himself, and confers on others, h i s popular-i t y and dependents, h i s urging and almost dr i v i n g us to t h i s our unwilling retirement, and l a s t l y , h i s aspiring to be our son-in-law". Thus smoothly but indisputably are the damning charges l a i d , and the i l l u s i o n of further promotion torn from Sejanus' eyes. The l e t t e r then declares i t leaves the matter to the judgment of the senators, but remarks that to the emperor i t appears "most malicious". Tiberius then, through the l e t t e r , e l e c t r i f i e s the senate with the news of Sejanus' audacious demand f o r marriage with ( V , 5 9 0 - 5 9 5 ) ( v 6oo ) -H+3-L i v i a , and announces that he has witnesses to prove his charge. The l e t t e r ends on a note of weariness and doubt and disappointment, declaring that, while the emperor i s not anxious to change his favor,he must be guided by the i n t e r e s t of the state, and the knowledge that princes must beware f o r t h e i r safety, not so much of humble people but of the great. The l e t t e r then demands the removal of Sejanus from a l l o f f i c e s , and the suspension of h i s powers u n t i l a t r i a l i s held. I t emphasizes, however, that the emperor does not wish to l i m i t the authority of the senate should they think that the property of Sejanus should be confiscated, and then i t hardens the hearts of the senators against Sejanus by ex-p l a i n i n g that the emperor dare not be present with them at the t r i a l both because he does not wish to sway t h e i r minds, and because, i f a powerful f a c t i o n does, i n f a c t , e x i s t , he would be greatly endangered by Coming from h i s retirement. The l e t t e r concludes by urging the senators not to hurt the innocent by sparing the g u i l t y , and remarks, "how grate f u l a s a c r i f i c e to the gods i s the l i f e of an i n g r a t e f u l person", ( V, 61+3 - 61+4 ) This l e t t e r rests upon a l l the basic assumptions about men voiced by Ma c h i a v e l l i , I t assumes men to be inconstant, -11*4-dishonest, self-seeking, fearful and easily flattered and eager for revenge. It invokes the principle of enlisting others to execute the harsh measures one proposes, and plays upon their envy. It demonstrates how skilfully Tiberius has acted upon the principle of decoying an enemy before spring-ing the trap on him. It appears indeed that Tiberius knows well that " . . . s t i l l he had beste successe in his affayres that had best s k i l l to playe the foxe, and by fayninge and dissemblinge to sett a fayre varnishe on his fowls vice, for men generallie are soe simple, and soe much geeven to their present affairs, that a deceaver that can cunninglie counterfeite his purpose*: shall never wante subjectes on whom he may practise his s k i l l " . 17 He further is aware that "A prince shouldge observe with a l l dilligence and care that noe woorde sholde passe his mouthe that did not savour of one of these five quailIties before mencioned, and wheresoever he were seene or hearde, he should seerae with greate reverence to extoll and Imbrase Pittie, Payth Honestie Courtesie & Religion...." 18 The letter is Machiavellianism: a technique of persuasion that by flattery, Insinuation, open promises and veiled threats 17) The Prince, x v i i i , 76 18) Ibid, x v i f i , 77 -145-compels acquiescence i n an event or a proposal, Jonson's mind l i k e that of Machiavelli saw things objectively and c o o l l y ; i t estimated men by t h e i r acts and t h e i r acts by t h e i r circumstances. The m a t e r i a l i s t approach to events i s i l l u s t r a t e d i n the fate of the various characters of the play. The Germanici f a i l because they seek to honor an i d e a l of res-pect f o r the.ruling prince; Tiberius* success stems from his correct estimation of the needs for r e t a i n i n g state power i n a corrupt soeiety, and h i s a b i l i t y to manipulate peoplei Sejanus errs when he f a i l s to perceive that circumstances and p o l i t i c a l convenience, not a b i l i t y on his part, are b a s i c a l l y responsible f o r h i s triumphs. When he becomes a v i c t i m of s e l f - l o v e and of a b e l i e f i n f a t e , he i s doomed, Tiberius never loses h i s o b j e c t i v i t y , even when he cannot be c e r t a i n that Sejanus i s not aiming at his l i f e , C a t i l i n e His Conspiracy -^9 (l6ll) dramatizes the con-f l i c t that arose when a republic was f a l l i n g i n t o decline. I t s two chief characters are C a t i l i n e and Cicero, the leader on the one hand of the Insurgent, dispossessed n o b i l -19) Ben Jonson, " C a t i l i n e His Conspiracy", Ben Jonson, Oxford Clarendon Press, 1932, Vol. V, - l l j . 6 -i t y , adventurers and malcontents of various status, and, on the other hand the champion of republican p r i n c i p l e s of government. C a t i l i n e himself seems to be a composite f i g u r e , part Senecan revenger, and^part the man of excessive ambition and unlicensed passion so often appearing as the romantic Machiavellian, The object of his uprising i s purely destruc-t i v e ; i t i s the burning and the sack of Rome f o r the private enrichment of C a t i l i n e and those who adhere to him; i t i s lo o t and personal revenge for l o s s of property, prestige and public power. When, i n spite of the backing of Caesar, Crassus, Catullus and the n o b i l i t y i n general, C a t i l i n e i s defeated i n the contest f o r the consulship, the s p i r i t of fury and destruction, breathed i n t o him i n the opening of the play by the ghost of S y l l a , takes command of him, and he finds himself incapable of accepting the popular vote, Irrexpressible ambition to conquer and take revenge consumes him. He w i l l burn a l l , reduee his c i t y , Rome, to ashes, k i l l without cease before he w i l l bend hi s w i l l to the common^ sort. Speaking of C a t i l i n e , whose plot i s reported to him by - 1 4 7 -F u l v i a , Cicero says; Cicero: Ambition, l i k e a torrent, ne'er looks back; And i s a swelling and a l a s t a f f e c t i o n A high mind can put o f f ; being both a rebel Unto the soul and reason, and enforceth A l l laws, a l l conscience, treads upon r e l i g i o n , And offereth violence to nature's s e l f . But here i s that transcends i t I A black purpose To confound nature; and to r u i n that, Which never age nor mankind can repair 1 — ( I I I , 2 4 7 - 2 5 5 ) C a t i l i n e i s c e r t a i n l y introduced by Jonson as the man seized by that•demoniac s p i r i t with which the Elizabethan dramatists endowed so many of their prototypes of ambition; but he i s compelled by Jonson's adherence to history^) and sound p o l i t i c a l reasoning to function r e a l i s t i c a l l y , and his ultimate downfall Is understandable i n terms of the p o l i t i c a l errors he made, and the l o g i c a l , consequences of the events he sets i n motion, Cicero, C a t i l i n e ' s antagonist, i s a man of common o r i g i n * i n whom the people of Rome place t h e i r t r u s t by elect i n g him consul. This popular approval i s voiced i n the play i n the words of a chorus, and i n the support given to Cicero's candidature by c a t o , "the voice of Rome", who sees i n Cicero the man the hour demands, Cato: Our need made thee consul, and thy v i r t u e , ( I I I , 5 7 ) - 3 4 8 -Thls i s M a c h i a v e l l i ^ argument of the time and the man meeting to resolve chaos; the idea that opportunity must e x i s t f o r talent to r e a l i s e i t s e l f i n the promotion of the welfare of the i n d i v i d u a l and the advancement of the country* That the term virtue i s used i n the sense i n which Machia-v e l l i employed i t i s further shown i n another passage. Sempronia: ...the patricians should do very i l l To l e t the consulship be d e f i l e d As»t would be, i f he (Cicero) obtained i t ! a mere upstart That has no pedigree, no house, no coat, No ensign of a family I P u l v i a : He has v i r t u e . Sempronia: Hang virtue I Where there i s no blood, 'tins v i c e , And i n him sauciness... P u l v i a : (Twas v i r t u e only, at f i r s t , made a l l men noble. Sempronia: I y i e l d you... .... .... .but now we have no need To d i g , or lose our sweat for I t . We have wealth-Portune, and ease: and then t h e i r stock to spend on, •Gainst a l l new comers, and can never f a i l us , While the succession stays. ( I I , 1 1 7 - 1 3 5 ) Obviously virtue here i s that i n i t i a t i v e , energy, aggress-iveness and resourcefulness that accumulate^ wealth and power} owd of the great. U>e-re that to Machiavelli wa>e the marks -149-Immediately upon hi s e l e c t i o n Cicero places before the people his understanding of the s i t u a t i o n i n Rome. He t e l l s them that he believes the proud and envious nobles have allowed h i s e l e c t i o n >to take place because of the vexing and perplex-ing problems that face Rome,;and he c a l l s upon the people t o be v i g i l a n t against — some turbulent practices Already on foot, and rumours of more dangers» ( I I I , 51 - 52) He then sets about to demonstrate his own resourcefulness and capacity for action as the competent r u l e r . He e n l i s t s supporters from the ranks of the conspirators to act as spies for|him. He moves slowly and with caution, mobilizing his own forces before he p u b l i c l y exposes G a t i l l n e at a senate meeting, where he forces him into voluntary e x i l e . He divides the ranks of the conspirators, by showing clemency to the le s s e r offenders, and by j u d i c i o u s l y f a i l i n g to force the secret backers of C a t i l i n e amongst the nobles i n t o the open, thus affording them opportunity,, as the p l o t i s progressively exposed, to safely withdraw themselves from association with i t . S k i l f u l l y he retains h i s popular support, and i n the end sends the heads of the conspiracy to death with the approval of the senate and the consent of the other consul -150-who at no time i s an adherent of Cicero, and who i n the presence of a les s accomplished, or " p o l i t i c " man, might have become the agent of the conspirators. Not once does he surrender o b j e c t i v i t y to sentiment. Cicero, further, i s aided i n h i s manoeuvring by d i f f -erences among the conspirators. Cethegus, the m i l i t a r y man, i s f o r headlong action; C a t i l i n e , Lentulus and others favor more considered development of the p l o t . Cicero's " p o l i t i c " approach i s i l l u s t r a t e d i n the manner i n which he handles the consul, Antonius, his colleague. Although Antonius i s not part of the conspiracy, Cicero knows that he i s not h o s t i l e to i t . He, therefore, c a l l s him i n , a f t e r Curius, one of the conspirators, has reported d e t a i l s of C a t i l i n e ' s plans. With the object of f o r e s t a l l i n g the p o s s i b i l i t y of Antonius becoming part of the p l o t , Cicero decides to show him special favor and bestow benefits upon him. Cicero: He (Antonius) i s a man 'gainst whom I must profide That, as h e ' l l do no good h e ' l l do no harm. He, though he be not of the p l o t , w i l l l i k e i t , And wish i t should proceed; f o r , unto men Prest with th e i r wants, a l l change i s ever welcome, I must with o f f i c e s and patience win him, Make him by a r t that which he i s not born, -151-A f r i e n d unto the p u b l i c , and bestow The province on him, which i s by the senate Decreed to me; that benefit w i l l bind him: UTis Well, i f some men w i l l do w e l l for p r i c e ; So few are virtuous when the reward's away. ( I I I , 469 - i|£0 ) The reasoning of Cicero here follows that of Machia-v e l l i , both i n i t s general tone, and i n the s p e c i f i c argu-ments i t ^ pursues, as, for example, that men welcome change as a possible means of improving t h e i r fortunes, and that they may he bought by favors. Enough has been said of Machiavelli's philosophy and of h i s analysis of p o l i t i c s and the problems and dangers of conspiracies to enable a reader to appreciate the s i m i l a r i t y of the thought i n the following passage: Caesar: (To C a t i l i n e ) Be resolute, And put your enterprise i n act. The more Actions of depth and danger are consider'd, The l e s s assuredly they are perform'd; And thence I t happeneth, that the bravest p l o t s , Not executed s t r a i g h t , have been discover'd. Say, you are constant, another, a t h i r d , Or more; there may be yet one wretched s p i r i t With whom the fear of punishment s h a l l work •Bove a l l the thoughts of honour and revenge. You are not now to think what's best to do, As i n the beginnings, but what must be done, Being thus enter'd: and s l i p no advantage That may secure you. Let them c a l l I t mischief; When i t i s past, and prosper'd, ' t w i l l be v i r t u e . They're petty crimes are punish'd, great rewarded. Nor must you think of p e r i l y since attempts Begun i n danger, s t i l l do end with glory; -152-And, when need spurs, despair w i l l be c a l l ' d wisdom. Less ought the oare of men, or fame to f r i g h t you; For they that win, do seldom receive shame Of v i c t o r y , howe'er i t be achieved; And vengeance, l e a s t : f o r who, besieged with wants, Would stop at death, or anything beyond i t ? Come, there was never any great thing yet Aspired, but by violence or fraud: And he that s t i c k s f or f o l l y of a conscience To reach i t — (III, 491 - 518 ) C a t i l i n e , however he may have received Caesar's advice, does not act on I t ; f o r the dangers,of which Machiavelli warned, do not escape the p l o t t e r s . The conspirators f i g h t among themselves over the time to act, the method they should pursue, and over who should k i l l Cicero. They are informed upon by turncoats (Curius, Crassus, Caesar); they include too many i n t h e i r confidence, and are betrayed by those not sworn to the plot (the Allobgroges); t h e i r plans are revealed through the confidences of lovers (Curius and F u l v i a ) ; t h e i r action i s delayed by endless conferences; they expose themselves by committing t h e i r scheme to paper (the l e t t e r to the Allobroges and the l e t t e r from Lentulus to Crassus) and t h e i r sympathisers i n high places are won away from them by bribery (the consul, Antonius). Their f i n a l f o l l y , according to Mach i a v e l l i , i s that t h e i r action i s directed against a man and a government that has the f u l l support of the people* -153-When the complete picture of the conspiracy has been gathered i n t o h i s hands, Cicero acts. He takes measures for his own personal security as well as fo r that of the republic. He c a l l s i n h i s kinsmen as guards to his house, and closes the house to a l l v i s i t o r s ; by doing so, he outwits the conspirators who send Vargunteius and Cornelius, w i t h others, to h i s home with the purpose, under pretext of a v i s i t on business, of assassinating him. Keeping himself securely under guard, Cicero goes about to arrange a senate meeting, where he presents the evidence he has against flatiline and his asso-c i a t e s , and proposes banishment as t h e i r sentence. Supported by a l l , he forces C a t i l i n e into voluntary e x i l e , while the alarmed and grateful people vote Cicero sole consul of Rome for the period of danger that faces them. The b a t t l e i s hot yet over, however. The republic i s not yet secure. C a t i l i n e , as resolute as ever, leaves Rome to mobilize ah army while his followers within Rome continue t h e i r work of propaganda and subversion. The blow that Cicero has dealt the conspirators, however, proves c r i p p l i n g . Enthusiasm f l a g s , mistakes increase, defections grow. The play concludes with Cicero's able organization of the seizure of the conspirators l e f t i n Rome, and the despatch of -154-two armies against C a t i l i n e ' s forces. In both of these plays'Jonson pursues an i n t e r e s t and a l i n e of action that c l o s e l y p a r a l l e l s those that pre-oceu-pied M a c h i a v e l l i . He i s i n each play concerned with p o l i t i c s i n a corrupt statey a topic with which Machiavelli'dealt as a s p e c i f i c aspect of power. In,Sejanus, Jonson exposes the e f f o r t of a commoner raised to prominence by the favor of the prince to seize the Imperial crown from his patron; and i n C a t i l i n e His Conspiracy, h i s topic i s the desperate attempt of a noble to overturn! the state for the personal gain and freedom from r e s t r a i n t of himself and a crowd of dissolute retainers and hangers-on. His chief characters, Sejanusand Tiberius, and C a t i l i n e and Cicero are drawn with a p o l i t i c a l emphasis and understanding reminiscent of the approach of Mach i a v e l l i , many passages of the play are so close In thought and form to passages i n Machiavelli as to suggest a recent reading of the works of the I t a l i a n w r i t e r , and the l o g i c of the action of the plays conforms to that which underlies the careers of the princes considered by Mach i a v e l l i . The p a r a l l e l between the p o l i t i c a l plays of Jonson and the philosophy of M a c h i a v e l l i , indeed, seems founded upon a s i m i l a r i t y of outlook - a worldly, indulgent -155-and c y n i c a l view of men i n t h e i r public a c t i v i t i e s — and a common scholarly i n t e r e s t i n and admiration f o r the achieve-ments of ancient Rome, This' lends to Jonson's plays an over-a l l mood and tone that i s t r u l y Machiavellian, and a f r e -quent appearance i n hi s dialogue of what amounts to para-phrasing of Machiavellian sentiment. In t h i s Jonson's work i s d i s t i n c t from that of Marlowe whose understanding of Machiavelli asserts i t s e l f only spasmodically against the pre-eminently romantic trend of his thought and interpreta-t i o n of l i f e , and from that of Shakespeare who selects with exquisite p r e c i s i o n the essence of the key figure Machia-v e l l i sought to elaborate — the constructive, forward-looking, and u n f a i l i n g l y r e a l i s t i c prince. -156-Chapter V - Part I I Real Machiavellianism - William Shakespeare. One can discuss the influence of ideas on art pedant-i c a l l y , i n s i s t i n g that words are the o r i g i n of ideas, and that the influence of idea on an a r t i s t can be shown only by r e -ference to chapter and verse. The substance of thought, how-ever, i s experience; and whether one evolves thought through communication or through d i r e c t experience, i t i s l i f e that confirms and quickens one fs conclusion. In every age, scholars have discussed the philosophies of the time as i f they derived from the writings or pronouncements of t h i s , that or the other i n d i v i d u a l . Looking a l i t t l e deeper, how-ever, one can discern that the thoughts of individuals are the products of association i n the common l i f e of society; that ideas are a r e f l e c t i o n of s o c i a l a c t i v i t y , and that l a b e l l i n g philosophies a f t e r i n d i v i d u a l s i s not unlike naming diseases and processes a f t e r the s c i e n t i s t s who made the f i r s t useful diagnosis of them. Philosophies are as much the creation - 1 5 7 -of i n d i v i d u a l s as are the diseases; they had t h e i r being among men before the thinker conceived his thesis. Naming philosophies a f t e r i n d i v i d u a l s i s j u s t i f i e d to the extent that the p a r t i c u l a r i n d i v i d u a l so honored more pr e c i s e l y , more succ i n c t l y , more usefu l l y summarized and expounded the experience represented i n the thought than did others: t h i s i s h i s contribution, that he formulated experience i n words that made available to workers i n the f i e l d discussed a ready-made t o o l , even as the medical s c i e n t i s t by h i s diagnosis affords medical investigators and p r a c t i t i o n e r s an instrument which s i m p l i f i e s t h e i r task of research and of healing. In h i s works Machiavelli r e f l e c t e d with c r y s t a l c l a r i t y the p o l i t i c s of his time, and gave to p o l i t i c i a n s an exact text-book of t h e i r c r a f t . In Machiavelli Is expressed the p o l i t i c a l consequences of the d i f f u s i o n of i n i t i a t i v e that accompanied the d i s i n t e g r a t i o n of feudal corporate society and that Imposed upon the i n d i v i d u a l the necessity to grapple d i r e c t l y and alone with the problems of s u r v i v a l , Machiavelli defined what hi s contemporaries were being com-pel l e d by circumstances to practice; and he raised to the sphere of conscious controversy the p r i n c i p l e s upon which -158-the p o l i t i c a l practise of his.era rested. The r e f l e c t i o n of those p r i n c i p l e s i n works of art might derive e i t h e r d i r e c t l y from the a r t i s t ' s experience or from acquaintance with Ma-c h i a v e l l i 's w r i t i n g s , or from both. I f the a r t i s t ' s glance were of a kind and as penetrating as that of Machiavelli h i s work would reincarnate the world as Machiavelli saw i t . Machiavellianism was the r e f l e c t i o n of the m a t e r i a l i s t and n a t u r a l i s t attitude to power that underlay the p o l i t i c s of the renaissance. A r t i s t i c reaction to the p o l i t i c a l - r e l i g i o u s polemics i n which the name of Machiavelli figured emerged, natur a l l y enough, at the peak of Elizabeth's reign, when the l o g i c a l consequences of the Tudor renaissance p o l i c y threatened f i n a l l y to subordinate the feudal to the modern world, and thejprince, as the embodiment of authority, became v i t a l as the agent of r e c o n c i l i a t i o n and continuity between the passing and the r i s i n g society. As has been shown, Marlowe endowed the usurping prince and the unrestrained self-seeker as his counter-part among common men with d i a b o l i c a l q u a l i t i e s . More r e a l -i s t i c a l l y , Jonson portrayed the conniving prince, both i n power and i n the ascent to power, r a t i o n a l l y , with the scholar's judicious and detached appreciation of the deceptions, i l l u s i o n s and affectations of ambitious people; while he -159-showed i n his treatment of Cicero that he understood the republican p o t e n t i a l i t i e s of the strong, wise and popular prince* Shakespeare placed upon the stage as i n l i f e the true renaissance prince as Machiavelli analysed him; and i n tr e a t i n g of the usurper whose aim was tyranny, he couched h i s analysis i n terms of the r e a l , the credible, the human, i the natural; and confessed recognition of the enescapable ^ j 0 Y ) t j dilemma of the t r a d i t i o n a l i s t i n an era of revolutionary change* In the Henry VI plays Richard Plantagenet, Duke of Y o r k j i s pictured by Shakespeare as a great prince, the likeness of whom to the hero of Machiavelli i s s t r i k i n g * The Duke of York not only sees himself as the man born with a b i l i t y to r u l e , but he demonstrates i n a l l his acts a shrewdness and resourcefulness that places him always i n the p o s i t i o n of command* Inspired by the tumult and chaos of England under Henry VI^Richard puts forward h i s claim to the throne o f England* He i s introduced to the audience challenging his companions to question the legitimacy of his claim to power* He speaks d e c i s i v e l y , demandingly, as one who, convinced of 3 the necessity to act, require^ a declaration from his asso--i6o-c i a t e s . Forthright and imperative, he i s nevertheless ready to to l i s t e n to others, to keep s i l e n t when necessary and/remain^| lag-patient. He knows when to demand and when to ask, and how to be soft-spoken and mild. He has respect f o r the law and f o r h i s supporters both of gentle and of common b i r t h , as well as fo r the great nobles who support him. He i s a good general. He i s v a l i a n t , passionately fond of his country and tender of her prestige abroad; he i s s k i l f u l i n his resort to strategy and d u p l i c i t y ; he has a sharp wit. He i s capable of tremendous passions, but he can exercise s e l f - c o n t r o l . He i s r u t h l e s s l y r e a l i s t i c , can be suave and p o l i t i c , and i s unflinching i n dangerous situations i n which dignity, daring : and eloquence can be as decisive for security as the sword. He i s feared and respected by the people, with whom he i s popular; and he sees himself as the restorer of order and good government i n England. This Machiavellian of Shakespeare's honors Machiavelli•s p r i n c i p l e that the new prince, i f he has widsom, " s h a l l seeme n 1 as though he came by the estate by anciente inheritaunce.. 1) The Prince, XXIV, pp. 108 - 109. - l 6 l -and i s concerned to e s t a b l i s h h i s ri g h t to r u l e by b i r t h , although he, l i k e Machiavelli^feels that^and h i s " w i l l to i d e n t i f y himself and h i s personal aims with the welfare of the populace, ^aad h i s provon^afbilitiea are proof enough of his greatness and of h i s r i g h t to r u l e . In only one i n -stance does Richard, Duke of Y o r k , f a i l to l i v e up to the requirements of the Machiavellian prince. In Act I of Part I I I of Henry VI,when with Warwick and his armed forces he occupies the Parliament House ahead of Henry VI and his queen, and i s i n a p o s i t i o n to enforce his right to the throne, he swears to recognise Henry VI as king during Henry's l i f e . I f Henry w i l l acknowledge hlra and h i s sons as heirs to the.throne, he declares, he w i l l r e t i r e to h i s estate and l i v e as a duke under Henry VI. This act costs him h i s throne and h i s l i f e , and England?^ the peace and order which he was f i g h t i n g to restore to her. At one stroke he thus abandons the advantage of popularity and armed sup e r i o r i t y , ignores his pledge to have the heart's blood of the Lancastrians, puts himself at the mercy of a r i v a l power, and places f a i t h i n the contract of an enemy. The r e s u l t i s renewed wars; further chaos and disorder and l o s s of l i f e . The s i t u a t i o n i n which York appears i s one that was -162-common i n any feudal country and was remaned upon by M a c h i a v e l l i , who noted that p r i n c i p a l i t i e s ruled ".••by a prynce and certeine Peeres whoe haue been raysed to that honour not by the favour or permission of t h e i r prynce, but by the _ discente and a n t i q u l t i e of t h e i r owne blud", are controlled with i n f i n i t e d i f f i c u l t y and are seldom tran-q u i l . Act I of I Henry VI pursues the i n t e r n a l c o n f l i c t at home and the debacles of the English forces i n Prance. - York enters upon the stage i n scene i v of act i i , when he appears i n discussion with a lawyer, the earls of Somerset, Suffolk and Warwick, and one, Vernon. He i s manifestly the leader i n the group, and i s pressing f o r a statement from the others; York: Great) lords and gentlemen, what means t h i s silence? Dare no man answer i n a case of truth? ( I I , i v , 1 - 2 ) 3 The lords hesitate and prevaricate; but Richard w i l l not allow them to esbape a declaration of t h e i r stand on his claim to the throne. F i n a l l y , he challenges those who support him to 2) The Prince, IV, 15. 3) William Shakespeare, "Henry VI, Part I " , The Works of  William Shakespeare, Oxford, Shakespeare Head Press, 1938 - 1 6 3 -pick a white rose. Somerset, York's r i v a l , picks a red rose; and so the issue i s forced. A l l declare themselves. Here i s a man who appears to know how "to rayse and continewe that opinion of him .i n the hartes of his suiects, that they maie imagine he can neither be abused by frawde, nor altered by f l a t t e r i e " . If, Thejslur cast on York's s o c i a l o r i g i n by his r i v a l , Somerset, i s the subject of the f i n a l scene of act one. Prom the English point of view, York must make clear his claim to the throne by b i r t h , i f he i s not to expose himself to the charge of usurper. In t h i s scene, therefore, the descent of York as l e g i t i m a t e h e i r to the crown i s c a r e f u l l y rehearsed by his dying uncle, Edmund Mortimer. Mortimer declares that York's father, the E a r l of Cambridge, died t r y i n g to restore the r i g h t f u l kings to the throne, and he urges York to claim the crown. When, however, York betrays impatience and bursts out passionately that his father's death was bloody tyranny, Mortimer cautions him: Mortimer: With silen c e , nephew, be thou p o l i t i c : ( I I , i , 101 ) k-) The Prince, x i x , 79. -164 York takes his uncle's counsel} and resolves to act with d i s c r e t i o n and cunning. He decides f i r s t to seek r e -cognition of h i s r i g h t through parliament, and to Make ray i l l th' advantage of my good, ( I I , i , 29 ) or show that he ^can reape some commodity owt of anyie i n -convenience". Before Parliament, where the dispute between the Bishop of Winchester and the Duke of Gloucester i s aired, York holds h i s peace, deeming i t not timely to intervene: - -York: (aside) Plantagenet, I see must hold his tongue, Lest i t be s a i d , "Speak, s i r r a h , when you should; Must your bold verdict enter talk with l o r d s " , ( I I I , i i , 6 l - 63) He i s then a l l humility when Henry VI, i n response to Warwick's representation, grants the r e s t o r a t i o n of his t i t l e and h i s lands: York: Thy humble servant vows obedience And humble service t i l l the point of death. And so thrive Richard as thy foes may f a l l . And as my duty springs, so perish they That grudge one -thought against your majesty I ( I I I , 1, I67-168; 174- 176) A f t e r varying fortunes, the English are vic t o r i o u s again 5) The * r i n c e , x x i , 102 - 1 6 5 -i n France and Henry VI goes to ^ a r i s to be crowned. York i s present, but remains s i l e n t u n t i l the court i s invaded by two persons i n c o n f l i c t over the roses they wear* While King Henry addresses the two disputants, and makes a play of t r e a t -ing t h e i r differences l i g h t l y by taking the red rose and a i r i l y pinning i t on himself, declaring i t means nothing, York r e -mains cautiously quiet* But, when the king has gone, he shows by his exchange with Warwick over the favor shown to Somerset that h i s challenge to the throne i s indeed l i v i n g and ardentt. He remains quiet again, however, i n the i n t e r e s t , as i t l a t e r appears, of England's f i g h t f o r France* In France, York, i n command of forces for the r e l i e f of Talbot at Bordeaux, i s prevented from taking action by the f a i l u r e of Somerset to send the promised reinforcements* York fumes and rages, but remains at h i s post, and i n the end has the honour of conquering Joan of Arc and sending her to exe-cution* York thus far appears as the p a t r i o t i c and magnani-mous prince and competent army leader; a man of passionate f e e l i n g , who, however, knows how to keep himself well i n hand* S t i l l biding h i s time, York further r e s t r a i n s himself while the marriage of Henry VI to Margaret, daughter of King 6 ) IV, i , 1 7 4 " 1 8 1 -166-Reignier, Is solemnized and the humiliating peace with Prance i s read. He remains s i l e n t even a f t e r the king has l e f t the court with a l l but Hork, Salisbury and Warwick* Salisbury speaks out, however, denouncing the corrupt s e l f -seeking of Somerset and his associates, and appealing to York and Warwick to j o i n together i n an e f f o r t to save England. Salisbury argues that ^ork by his m i l i t a r y ex-p l o i t s In Ireland and Prance, has won the fear and respect of the people. York i s thus appealed to as the man of virtu e who can save the nation from the disasters into which the self-seeking f a c t i o n ofjmobles under Somerset have lead i t * Salisbury:; While these (Somerset and h i s associates) do labour for the i r own preferment, Behoves i t us to labour for the realm* I I ( I , 1, 181 - 182) 7 Later i n the same speech, addressing himself to York, he adds; Salisbury: And, brother York, thy acts i n Ireland, In bringing them to c i v i l d i s c i p l i n e ; Thy l a t e exploits done i n the heart of Prance, When thou wert regent f o r our sovereign, Have made thee fear'd and honour'd of the people:-Join we together, for the public good, In what we can, to b r i d l e and suppress 7) Shakespeare, "Henry VI, Part I I " , Works, 1938* -167-The pride of Suffolk and the c a r d i n a l , With Somerset's and Buckingham's ambition; And, as we may, cherish Duke Humphrey's deeds, While they do tend the p r o f i t of the land* To t h i s Warwick and York comment: Warwick: So God help Warwick, as he loves the land, And common p r o f i t of his country. York: (aside) And so says York, f o r he hath greatest cujsise. I I ( I , i , 194 - 207 ) A f t e r Warwick and Salisbury go, York breaks out into a soliloquy that reveals his whole heart: He sees i n the loss of the French provinces and the Sxtravaganst concessions made f o r Margaret's consent to marry H enry, the squandering of h i s own patrimony. He can wait, however, for the favorable moment to act, A day w i l l come when York s h a l l claim his own; ( I , 1, 239 ) and, as his strategy, he plans to go along for a time at l e a s t , with Warwick and Salisbury, i n support of the Duke of Gloucester and against the Somerset and Suffolk clique* His object, he states now,, i s to become king: York: And, when I spy advantage, claim the crown, For that's the golden mark I seek to h i t : ( I , i , 21+.2 - 21+3 ) He despises Henry's "churh-like humours" as u n f i t f o r a king; -168-and, indeed, the prince of Machiavelli would never be a v i c -tim of a e l i g i o n as Henry i s * York's t a c t i c i s waiting: York: Then, York, be s t i l l awhile, t i l l time do serve: Watch thou and wake, when others be asleep, To pry into the secrets of the state; ( I , i , ILI - ks ) When the time arrives he w i l l grapple with the house of Lancaster and force the crown from i t . Meanwhile, the machinations progress against the Duke of Gloucester and his wife Eleanor, Suffolk and Beaufort conducting them, and York q u i e t l y supporting them. When Buckingham and York together discover and expose the Duchess Elanor consulting with d e v i l s , York d i s c r e e t l y leaves Buckingham to report the event to the king. S a t i s f i e d that the downfall of the Protector, Duke Humphrey, Is imminent, York c a l l s together Salisbury and Warwick, and places before them his request f o r t h e i r support of him as claimant to the crown. He persuades them to agree, a f t e r he has again reviewed his lineage; and he then lays before them hi s plan to act against the king when the s p l i t of the Somerset f a c t i o n agairs t the Lord Protector and his wife i s completed. Encouraged by the promise of support, York joins i n the -169 accusations against Bloucester, and conspires with Margaret, Beaufort and Suffolk to bring about the death of the Protec-t o r . The f i r s t obstacle to the throne he claims he thus dooms by conspiracy with h i s own r i v a l s . When the news arrives that -4,eland i s i n revolt and that an armed force i s needed to suppress the rebels, York further reveals h i s cra f t i n e s s . He sneeringly suggests the appointment of Somerset, who has just returned from Prance af t e r having l o s t a l l the English provinces there. Somerset b r i d l e s , and Beaufort comes forward to suggest that York, perhaps, would l i k e to take the -*-rish post. York agrees, and they a l l consent, thinking they are r i d of him. After they have l e f t , however, York, again i n soliloquy, reveals his p o l i c y . I t i s the careful and calculated plan of a true Machiavellian: York: Now, York, or never, s t e e l they fearful® thoughts, And change misdoubt to res o l u t i o n ; Be that thou hopest to be; or what thou a r t Resign to death, — i t i s not worth t h 1 enjoying: Let pale-faced fear keep with the mean-born man, And f i n d no harbour i n a royal heart. Paster than spring-time showers comes thought on thought; And not a thought but thinks on d i g n i t y . My brain , more busy than the labouring spider, 8) f e a r f u l here undoubtedly means f u l l of f e a r , York i s t r y i n g to work h i s courage up and cast out fear. - 1 7 0 -Weaves tedious snares to trap mine enemies* Well, nobles, w e l l , ' t i s p o l i t i c l y done, To send me packing with an host of men: I fear me you but warm the starved snake, Who, cherisht i n your breasts, w i l l s t i n g your hearts* 'Twas men I l a c k t , and you w i l l give them me: I take i t k i n d l y ; yet be w l l assured You put sharp weapons i n amadman's hands. Whiles I i n Ireland nourish a might*) band, I w i l l s t i r up i n England some black storm, Shall How ten thousand souls to heaven or h e l l ; And t h i s f e l l tempest s h a l l not cease to rage U n t i l the golden c i r c u i t on ray head, Like to the glorious sun's transparent beams, Do calm the fury of this-mad-bred flaw* ( I I I , I , 3 3 1 " 35k) Although some of the i d i o h here i s p e r i l o u s l y close to that of the "romantic Machiavellian", there i s a greater significance to the passage. York here i s the man of resolu-t i o n , consciously nerving himself to a great task. He rejoices i n the mental exercise of p l o t t i n g and contriving the means of a t t a i n i n g his noble object. He r e a l i z e s that not force alone, but fraud, deception and cunning are required for success. His attitude toward the nobles who have been t r i c k e d i n t o making him the head of an army i s not malevolent or v i n d i c t i v e , but rather l o f t i l y contemptuous; hi s superiority to them pleases and at the same time entertains him. He" knows t h e i r f a i l u r e to measure up to him w i l l prove t h e i r downfall and h i s success; and, although the i n t e n s i t y of - 1 7 1 h i s f e e l i n g s , now that he i s committed to action from which there i s no turning back, s t a r t l e s and a l i t t l e dismays him, hi s confidence r i s e s and his plans c r y s t a l l i z e . With an army at his command,he feels he can go forward with h i s preparations to foment an uprising within England under the leadership of Jack Cade, "A headstrong Kentishman", who resembles John Mortimer, now dead. This r i s i n g , he feel s can be used to his advantage; and we f i n d him declaring that by the r e v o l t I s h a l l perceive the common's mind, How they a f f e c t the house and claim of York. ( I I I , 1 , 3 7 4 - 3 7 5 ) In t h i s York honours Machiavelli's argument: ".. . f o r noe man w i l l venter to take i n hande a conspiracie unles he make t h i s reconinge with himself, that the death of the prince wilbe acceptable to the people"• 9 York i s the shrewd tfildge of the circumstances he requires to make h i s claim e f f e c t i v e ; he must know the popular w i l l , he must have an army at his command, and he must be s a t i s -f i e d that the main persons standing between himself and the crown are disposed of. I t i s clear from his argument that he rests his a b i l i t y to achieve h i s object i n the favor of 9) The f r i n c e , x i x , 80 -172-the people, armed force and h i s own cunning. His ruthlessness i s evident; Jack Cade i s a pawn i n h i s game, us e f u l , but ex-pendable; so were Suffolk and Buckingham, for a time. While York i s busy with h i s , I r i s h expedition, Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester, Lord Protector of England, i s murdered by an assassin hired by Suffolk. Upon his death, Warwick and Salisbury, aware i n advance that the crime was to be committed, ar r i v e at the head of a crowd of common people at Bury St. Edmunds, where the murder took place. They invade the palace and demand an explanation. Warwick charges Suffolk with murder, and the commons demand his banishment. The king con-sents. Thus the events inspired by York and his supporters, Warwick and Salisbury, who q u i e t l y abetted Somerset and Suffolk i n t h e i r p l o ts against the Gloucesters and who gave consent to the death of Humphrey, lead to the d i s i n t e g r a t i o n of the second group of nobles that stand between York and the throne. Suffolk's banishment deprives the group of i t s most daring and resourceful member; and the f o l l y of the assassination strengthens the commons' hatred of the Suffolk group, and enhances the popular favor of those who exposed the crime, Warwick and Salisbury, the a l l i e s of York. Surely -173-the manoeuvring of these developments i s the work of the Machiavellian prince who knows how to s u i t action to the times, to wait, to influence men's minds, to win popular support, and to b u i l d armed strength. Pate lends a hand to help on York when Cardinal Beau-f o r t dies within hours of the discovery of the death of Gloucester, and when Suffolk i s beheaded by a seaman, Walter Whitmore,' who i s represented as destined to execute Suffolk, Whitmore i s one of a ship's crew who seem united behind a remarkable captain who knows the whole history'of Suffolk and who i s confident that England i s r i s i n g up under the Nevils i n support of York* Cade's uprising proves the t r u t h of the cap-tain's pro-phecy that an action favoring York would soon develop. The followers of Cade are moved, l i k e York, by the loss of the French provinces and Henry's inept r u l e at home. They accept Cade's claim to become protector over Henry VI so that England's prestige can be restored. In the end the r i s i n g i s broken up by C l i f f o r d ' s clever appeal to the people's f e e l i n g f o r the warrior king, Henry V, whose memory the people revere, and by the doubt he rouses i n them that Cade can lead them to triumph over t h e i r foreign enemies the French, or even help -174-them protect England against a French invasion. This i d e n t i t y of the people's and York's f e e l i n g about England's p o s i t i o n , and the proof of the people's admiration f o r a warrior king, strengthen the prospects f o r York's return. Scarcely i s Cade's r e b e l l i o n dispersed than news arrives that York i s back i n England with his army, declaring h i s return i s to save the king from the t r a i t o r , Somerset. This i excuse i s p l a u s i b l e , and frees York from being charged with; s e d i t i o n . As Machiavelli remarks, "a prince can never wante occasions to collour the breache of his promise". ^ Encamped between Dartford and Blackheath, York prepares for h i s seizure of the crown. He sees himself now as not only the lawful king, but the man with the a b i l i t y to r u l e ; York: Let them obey that know not how to r u l e ; This hand was made to handle naught but gold. I cannot give due action to my words, Except a sword or sceptre balance i t : A sceptre s h a l l i t have, — have I a soul, — On which I ' l l toss the flower-de-luce of France. ( V, 1, 6 - 11 ) He i s the Machiavellian man who by his own virtue and capacity has the r i g h t , because he knows how, to r u l e , and 10) The Prince, x v i i i , 75 -175-becauae he has a v i s i o n f o r his country's greatness. He i s interrupted i n his musings by the sudden a r r i v a l of the king's envoy, Buckingham, who has been warned, not out of p i t y but out of fear, not to deal roughly with York, York, immediately cautious and wary, gathers his f a c u l t i e s ; York: Whom have we here? Buckingham, to disturb me? The king hath sent him, a i r e : I must dissemble, ( V , 1 , 1 2 - 1 3 ) Prepared for defence, York yet gives the appearance of being completely duped when Buckingham assures him that the king has arrested and imprisoned Somerset. On the unconfirmed word of Buckingham, he dismisses his soldiers and i s prepar-ing to go to the palace when the king enters with a number of attendants, and i s soon followed by the queen accompanied by Somerset, The apparent f a l l i b i l i t y of an otherwise most astute prince may be an example of the b u l l i b i l i t y to which people become victims by the pressure of t h e i r needs and desires. The convenient entrances of Warwick, Sals bury, and York's sons l a t e r , however, when York i s threatened with ar r e s t , suggest that York knew his strength, and was indeed 1 1 ) The Discourses, I , 1 0 2 -176^-dissembling when he exposed himself to capture. York, apparently trapped,reveals his mettle. He boldly challenges the king, demanding an explanation for Somerset's beHng at large, and he denounces the king for h i s bad f a i t h , h i s weakness, and his ineptitude: York: thou art not king; Not f i t to govern and rule multitudes, Which darest not, no, nor canst not r u l e a t r a i t o r . That head of thine doth not become a crown; Thy hand i s made to grasp a palmer's s t a f f , And not to grace the awful princely sceptre. That gold must round engirt these brows of mine; Whose smile and frown, l i k e to A c h i l l e s ' spear, Is able with the change to k i l l and cure. Here i s a hand to hold a sceptre up, And with the same to act c o n t r o l l i n g laws. Give place: by heaven, thou shalt r u l e no more O'er him whom heaven created f o r they r u l e r . ( V, i , 92 - 105 ) York i s here the magnanimous prince, bom to rule by a b i l i t y not by heredity. The bases of his claims to the crown are those endorsed by Machiavelli, as the weaknesses of Henry are those Machiavelli censured i n a prince. As the scene develops, York's' boldness i s commanding. Ordered arrested, he refuses to go wit h the guards, and has his sons c a l l e d i n to go surety f o r him. When Old C l i f f o r d and h i s son enter, following York's sons, and do obeisance to Henry as King, York deliberately assumes they are recognizing him, -177-and thanks them. Their denunciation and demand for York's arrest, i s cut short by the entry of Warwick and Salsbury. The forces are drawn; York's challenge i s i n the open; the court and a l l England standi divided; a l l leave to prepare for b a t t l e . This i s the kind of b r i l l i a n t and p r i n c i p l e d challenge for power that Machiavelli hoped the Medici would make i n I t a l y . The Duke of York and his supporters carry the v i c t o r y i n b a t t l e , and Immediately occupy the House of Parliament. They there conceal soldiers and await the a r r i v a l of the king and queen, who, they know, had planned to meet there, following the f i g h t . Encouraged by Warwick and by hi s sons, York i s persuaded to occupy the regal chair. The dethroning of Henry now seems imminent. York f a i l s , however, i n p o l i c y , when he trusts the king, whom he already had found wanting i n f a i t h , and accepts h i s promise to recognize York and his heirs as r u l e r s of England a f t e r Henry's death. Although t h i s action frees York of any charge of excessive ambition, i t makes nonsense of h i s frequently voiced concern for the p l i g h t of England under the inept Henry; and i t abandons the people, f o r whose cause he -178-claimed to f i g h t . York's abdication of his claim to the crown during the l i f e of Henry VI, nevertheless i s h i s t o r y ; as was h i s character generally as Shakespeare depicted him. Had Machiavelli been taking h i s examples from the h i s t o r y of England he might have selected York, as Shakespeare draws him, as an example of the great prince whose virtue was marred by an excessive respect fo r t r a d i t i o n . But i n every instance but t h i s he i s the true Machiavellian prince. Chapter V — Part I I Subdivision 2 The prince who comes to power and retains authority i n the most d i f f i c u l t circumstances, according to M a c h i a v e l l i , i s he who achieves his aim p r i n c i p a l l y through the assistance of other great men, and who then successfully secures him-s e l f against the jealousy and revolt of those who f i r s t abetted him. Such a prince i s Henry Bolingbroke, l a t e r Henry IV, successor to Richard I I . In Richard, Duke of York, Shakespeare had depicted the prince who demonstrated true Machiavellian resourcefulness i n the attempt to achieve power against great odds, and who, i n pursuit of t h i s aim made use of every ad-vantage of superior courage, cunning and c l a r i t y of aim and -179-every weakness i n the front of h i s opponents to compel recog-n i t i o n of and advancement for himself. In Henry Bollnbroke, he presents the man whom personal q u a l i t i e s , fortune, the voluntary help of the great and the favor of the people raises to power, and who, placed In command of a nation by these aids, successfully consolidates and maintains h i s power against con-spiracy and r e v o l t . When Henry Bolingbroke landed at Ravenspurgh, his claim was merely h i s dukedom; but the access of power which came to him from the welcome of Northpnberland, Westmoreland, Hotspur, Willoughby, Ross and others, from the favor shown him by the common people, the lords of the north, and the gentlemen of the south, the young and the old, and from the p u s i l l a n i m i t y and perverseness of Richard I I encouraged him to claim the crown. Bolingbroke, therefore, did not r i s e up i n r e v o l t , conspire or connive his way to power; he came to assert a r i g h t under the law; he did not seize opportunity, occasion used him; he did not create, he accepted a s i t u a t i o n . His r i s e to power therefore, l a y e s s e n t i a l l y with the arms and In-fluence of those nobles who abandoned Richard I I i n the hope of a better government, a government more to t h e i r l i k i n g . 180 As Machiavelli warned, a r u l e r such as Henry l i v e s under the constant threat of r e b e l l i o n from those nobles who a i d him to power, because i t i s most u n l i k e l y that th e i r expectations w i l l be r e a l i z e d under his r u l e , and because his power rests not i n support of his own making, but i n the continued allegiance of those who chose to a l i g n themselves with him for t h e i r own 12 advantage* At the conclusion o^Rjchard I I , Bolingbroke, now Henry IV, i s already c a l l e d upon to deal with conspiracy against him, and to grant clemency to Aumerle, h i s cousin, one of the conspirators, and to mete out death sentences to the r e s t . He i s l e d also, by the danger to which Richard's l i f e exposes him, to i n c i t e assassins to k i l l him. Bolingbroke, however, proves himself equal to the tasks imposed by power. In Henry IV, Part I , the means by which he consolidates h i s control of England i s r e c i t e d i n the grievance placed before Blunt by the rebels under Hqspur. After r e l a t -ing how Henry arrived at Ravenspurgh and enjoyed increasing i-.-support — i n s p i r e d , according to Hotspur, c h i e f l y by Northum-berland' s welcome — Hotspur reminds Blunt that Bolingbroke had deposed and l a t e r k i l l e d the king, and then had subdued _ - ' ' '• ' ~ ' if) The Prince, I I I , 5 -181-the whole state?to his authority: that he had allowed his kinsman, M o r t i m e r , — who had a more d i r e c t t i t l e to the crown — io remain, unransomed, a prisoner i n Wales: that he had deprived Hotspur of the prisoners he had captured by h i s own prowess; and that he had set spies upon Hotspiur to trap him: that he had driven Hotspur's uncle, Worcester, from the king's council; and i n a rage had dismissed Northumber-land from court: that he had indeed broken one oath a f t e r another given to those who aided him; and that he had committed one wrong af t e r another u n t i l he had driven the lords i n s e l f -defence to rebel. He had, indeed, as Hotspur put i t "fool'd, 13 discarded, and shook o f f " J those who had helped him to power. T h i s " v i l e p o l i t i c i a n , Bolingbroke", however, when faced with the uprising under the Percies, shows that he can muster a greater force and wider popular support than can the r e v o l t -ing l o r d s ; and h i s strength persuades the supreme opportunist, Northumberland, father of Hotspur, not to commit his follow-ing to the u p r i s i n g , although his own son leads I t . After the f i r s t encounter ends i n Hotspur's death and the rout of the rebels, a second muster of the rebels i s persuaded to parley about terms. Now, Henry IV accomplishes h i s second v i c t o r y 13) I Henry IV, I , i i i , 178 -182-by strategy and deceit. Making an agreement through h i s S son John of Lancaster to grant the rebel lords redress of t h e i r grievances, he persuades them to disband t h e i r forces, and then has them arrested, explaining suavely that he made no promise not to seize t h e i r persons. Thus by demonstrating m i l i t a r y strength, popular support and a capacity f o r subtlety and fraud, Henry IV secures the throne won by favoring fortune and the help of others. Of his possession of the crown H Qnry IV t e l l s his son, Hal: .. . . I had many l i v i n g to upbraid My gain of i t by t h e i r assistance; Which d a i l y grew to quarrel and to bloodshed, Wounding supposed peace: a l l these bold fears Thou see'st with p e r i l I have answered; For a l l my reign hath been but as a scene Acting that argument: ( V, i , 323 - 329 ) • • • . a l l my foes, which thou must make thy friends, • Have but th e i r stings and teeth newly ta'en out; By Whose f e l l working I was f i r s t advanced, And by Whose power I well might lodge a fear To be again displaced: which to avoid, I cut some o f f , and had a purpose now To lead out many to the Holy Land, Lest rest and l y i n g s t i l l might make them look Too near unto my state. Therefore, ray Harry, Be i t thy course to busy giddy minds With foreign quarrels; that action, hence borne out, May waste the memory of the .'former days, ( V, i , 335 - 3^6 ) The troubles of Henry are exactly those of M a c h i a v e l l i 1 s prince who comes to power c h i e f l y by the aid of others, and -183-whose success i n retaining the throne i s attributable to the q u a l i t i e s urged by Machiavelli as those essential to the true prince: capacity i n war, subtlety and fraud. His pro-posal to "busy giddy minds with foreign quarrels" expresses the t a c t i c popular with the astute ..King of Spain, so much admired by M a c h i a v e l l i , ^ The essence of Henry's p o s i t i o n i s contained i n the opening paragraph of Chapter' I I of The  Prince; and, although i t should be stressed that no suggestion i s made that Shakespeare wrote the play to demonstrate the principles,enunciated by Mach i a v e l l i , the treatment of the subject i s that of a person thoroughly imbued with the values and objective s p i r i t and understanding of p o l i t i c a l event that marked the thinking of M a c h i a v e l l i , The character and career of Henry V i s forecast i n the early scenes of Henry IV, Part I , They are to be those of the i d e a l prince, wise just and strong. In Scene i i of Act I of the f i r s t part of Henry IV, the future'King Henry V, hero of Agincourt, carouses and jokes with h i s boon.companions of the taverns and the highways, P a l s t a f f and Poins. At the conclusion 14) The Prince, XXI, 98 - 99* -184-of the scene, however, i n a soliloquy obviously addressed d i r e c t l y to the audience, he prepares the minds of his l i s t e n e r s f o r the transformation that i s to take place. Prince Henry: I know you a l l ( P a l s t a f f & Poins) and w i l l awhile uphold The unyoked humour of your idleness: Yet herein w i l l I imitate the sun, Who doth permit the base contagious clouds, To smother up his beauty from the world, That, when he please again to be himself, Being wanted, he may be more wonder'd at, By breaking through the f o u l and ugly mists Of vapours that did seem to strangle him. I f a l l the year were playing holidays, To sport would be as tedious as to work; But when they seldom come, they wisht for come, And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents. So, when t h i s loose behavious I throw o f f , And pay the debt I never promised, By how much better than my word I am, By so much w i l l I f a l s i f y men's hopes: And, l i k e bright metal on a su l l e n ground, My reformation, g l i t t e r i n g o'er my f a u l t , Shall show more goodly and a t t r a c t more eyes Than that which hath no f o i l to set i t o f f • . I ' l l so offend, to make offence a s k i l l ; Redeeming time, when men think l e a s t I w i l l , ( I , i i , 199 - 219) l * The cool and ca l c u l a t i n g detachment of t h i s youthful prince's observation i s r e v o l t i n g to anyone w i t h a human rather than a state approach; so deliberate a manipulating of human l i f e , including one's own, for future, u l t e r i o r ends seems 15) William Shakespeare, "Henry IV, Part I " , Works, 1938 -185-hardly natural and c e r t a i n l y i s not common, Hal's f e e l i n g for a l l men i s subordinated to h i s determination to shine as a king. His attitude toward his common companions i s easy, indulgent, not unkind contempt; that toward the n o b i l i t y , studied caution: toward both his actions are for e f f e c t . His inten t i o n i s to impress by his reform those of both classes whom h i s present behaviour has misled, and by t h i s demonstration of w i l l and self-command to reinforce his hold upon hi s subjects, high and low; " I ' l l so offend, to make offence a s k i l l " . He i s offending his father and the n o b i l i t y now; he w i l l offend P a l s t a f f and Poins l a t e r ; but he w i l l r i s e superior to both. This capacity for studied action calculated to b a f f l e and Impress i s at the core of the Machiavellian prince — i s the essence of the Machia-v e l l i a n use of the word p o l i c y ; i t assumes an absolute In-dependence of mind, a complete self-assurance, shrewd judg-ment and a detachment from t i e s of a f f e c t i o n that together make possible the devotion of a l l e f f o r t to a predetermined end. Nor i s i t necessarily associated with corruption or e v i l i n t e n t . The suggestion that Hal i s not as abandoned as h i s behaviour would lead one to believe was expressed f i r s t by -186-Henry Bolingbroke at the conclusion of the play, Richard I I . In scene i i i of act V Bolingbroke, accompanied by Hotspur, came to Windsor Castle, as king of England, The presence of Hotspur, and the absence of his own son, Prince Hal, i n t h i s hour of triumph stung him to outcry: Can no one t e l l me of my u n t h r i f t y son? ( V, i i i , 1 ) He was t o l d , and by Hotspur, that Hal was among his low com-panions; and that, upon being informed of the triumphs to be held at Oxford honoring the new king, his f a t h e r , he had said he would come wearing the glove of the commonest creature from the stews. This i s the f i r s t reference to Prince Hal i n the plays i n which h i s career figures. His father's r e p l y to Hotspur i s i n t e r e s t i n g from the point of view being discussed here, Henry Bolingbroke: As dissolute as desperate; yet through both I see some sparkles of a better hope, Which elder days may happily bring f o r t h , — ( V, i i i , 20 - 22) There follows i n the f i r s t act of Henry IV, Part 1 the e x p l i c i t statement of Hal himself, already quoted, i n which he confirms the hope expressed by the king that he would not -187-always continue to be a ne'er-do-well. And f i n a l l y , i n Scene i v of Act i v of the second part of Henry IV, when Henry IV, againafc triumphant, lacks the presence of h i s son and h e i r , and breaks out i n despair, Warwick r e p l i e s : Warwick: My gracious l o r d , you look beyond hlra quite: The prince but studies h i s companions, Like a strange tongue; wherein, to gain the language, 'Tis needful that the most immodest word Be lookt upon and learn'd; which once attain'd Your highness knows, comes to no further use But to be known and hated. So, l i k e gross terns, The prince w i l l , i n the perfectness of time, Cast o f f his followers; and their memory Shall as a pattern or a measure l i v e , By which his grace must mete the l i v e s of others, Turning past e v i l s to advantages, ( I I Henry IV, IV, i v , 67 - 78 ) With the audience prepared by the prince's soliloquy to see him ultimately emerge as a great r u l e r , the play, Henry, IV, part 1, proceeds f i r s t to bring out his q u a l i t i e s as a w i t , and a man of resourcefulness and command, welcome among and at ease with common people. The series of episodes with P a l s t a f f , Bardolph, P i s t o l , Dame Quickly and the r e s t does t h i s admirably, Hal i s a match f o r P a l s t a f f i n repartee, and his equal i n daring and irreverent c r i t i c i s m of the world, including the world of the court; he i s as ready f o r and as able to carry out a p r a c t i c a l joke as i s P a l s t a f f ; - 1 8 8 — and his attitude to authority- is-as c r i t i c a l , and i s much more d i g n i f i e d . He can assert his princely r i g h t s promptly and e f f e c t i v e l y whenever the event c a l l s f or i t and without 6 embarrassment or apology f o r the circumstances i n which he i s found; and the impression i s maintained that he never at any time i s a v i c t i m of the vices he chooses to indulge i n his companions. I f the c r i t i c i s m i s raised that he marred his reputation by the wildness of his youth, the answer i s , of course, given by his own declaration that i t i s a l l part of p o l i c y , a demonstration of his v i t a l i n t e r e s t i n l i f e , his self-command, and an exercise i n free w i l l . He can stop when he chooses. And so i t proves. Thus the whole, famous and entertaining section of the Henry IV plays which i s devoted to the l i f e of the young prince among P a l s t a f f and h i s associates, i s a b r i l l i a n t dramatization of a deep understanding of the components of the popular prince, who knows people, and who uses t h i s knowledge and his command over vices and virtues to effect his own security and the security of the state. As Machiavelli says i n his chapter, headed "Of those thinges which cause men and e s p e c i a l l i e princes to be either praised or blamed": " . . . i t behooves a prince to use that .discretion whereby he maye avoyde the -189-infamie e s p e c i a l l i e of such vices as maye weken his power, or hazarde the losse of his p r i n c i p a l i t i e , he should alsoe indea-vour to shunn the reat thoughe they threaten noe such daynger, but yf he ceuUe douldo not, he might l e t t them passe with lyght regarde, neither must he be scripu-lous to straine courtesies to incurr the infamie of such vices as preserve the saf e t i e of his owne estate, f o r yf matters be weyed i n i n d i f f e r e n t ballances, and considered of r i g h t l i e as they are indeede, yow s h a l l finde that by p r a c t i s i n g of some thinges that, c a r r i e the face and shewe of vertue yow s h a l l purchase your owne ruyne and overthrowe, and that by following some other that a t t the f i r s t sight seeme v i t i o u s , yow s h a l l finde most sure defence for your owne safetie and quietnesse." l 6 By v i r t u e of these scenes, Prince Hal i s shown to be b a s i -c a l l y royal and completely master of his passions and natural human i n c l i n a t i o n s and weaknesses; he does not suppress or i n h i b i t them, he uses them, and he uses them X 17 to his own and the sates 1 advantage* 16) The Prince, XV, 67 - 6 8 . 17) J« Dover Wilson takes issue with t h i s i n t e r p r e t a t i o n of Prince Hal i n his work, The Fortunes of F a l s t a f f . Under the heading, Riot and the Prodigal Prince, Mr. Wilson has t h i s to say: " F a l s t a f f may be the most conspicuous, he - i s c e r t a i n l y the most fascinating character i n Henry IV, but a l l c r i t i c s are agreed, I believe, that the technical centre of the play i s not the f a t knight but the lean prince. Hal l i n k s the low l i f e with the high l i f e , the scenes of Eastcheap with those at Westminster, the tavern with the b a t t l e f i e l d ; his doings provided most of - 1 9 0 -Long before Agincourt, indeed, and while he i s s t i l l l i v i n g under the cloud of his father's doubt, our young scapegrace demonstrates the v i r t u e that i s h i s . As a warrior he proves himself to be superior to the most r e -nowned champion of the time. Henry Percy, Hotspur,- whom he k i l l s at his f i r s t encounter with him. The depth of Shakespeare's penetration of the psycho-l o g i c a l problems that beset the true Machiavellian prinee, the prince s t r i v i n g for absolute power and popular favor, i s revealed further i n that remarkable scene with Poins the material f o r both Parts, and with him too l i e s the future, since he i s to become Henry V, the idea l king, i n the play that bears h i s name; f i n a l l y , the mainspring of the dramatic action i s the choice I have already spoken of, the choice he i s c a l l e d upon to make between Vanity and Government, taking the l a t t e r i n i t s accepted Tudor mean-ing, which includes Chivalry or prowess i n the f i e l d , the theme of Part I, and Just i c e , which i s the theme of Part I I . Shakespeare, moreover, breathes l i f e i n t o these abstrac-tions by embodying them, or aspects of them, i n prominent characters, who stand, as i t - were, about the Prince, l i k e attendant s p i r i t s : Pal s t a f f t y p i f y i n g Vanity i n every sense of the word, Hotspur Chivalry, of the old anarchic kind, and the Lord Chief Justice the Rule of Law or the new i d e a l of service to the state". (Prom J. Dover Wilson, The Fortunes of F a l s t a f f Cambridge University Press, I9Z+3, p. 17) In t h i s Mr. Wilson Is arguing, that the essence of the problem of Henry IV i s the old medieva]jone of youth tempted by vice and invoked by virtue or good deeds. I f th i s were so, the appeal of -191-following the f i r s t defeat of the rebel nobles and Hal's v i c t o r y over Hotspur. Hal, wandering i n the streets of London with Poins, suddenly complains of deep weariness, and remarks that h i s thoughts are turning to small beer. This, he f e e l s i s unworthy of him as a prince, even as h i s association with Poins and f a m i l i a r i t y with his personal pro-blems disgrace him. Hal's depression i s r e a l , but he hesitates to state i f frankly to Poins because he knows he w i l l not be Henry IV to modern readers Would be p a r a l l e l l e d by that of the old medieval m o r a l i t i e s . But t h i s i s not so. The essence of the i n t e r e s t roused by Henry IV i s not, therefore, i t s r e f l e c -t i o n of medieval concepts but i t s demonstration of concepts that d i s t i n g u i s h i t from the medieval. I t i s the break with the old picture of youth tempted by r i o t i n Henry IV and the demonstration of the modern concept of independent judgment, self-mastery and free w i l l , of consciously directed destiny, that marks Henry IV as a modern play. Nowhere i n the plays dealing with Prince Hal and P a l s t a f f i s there ever the sugges-t i o n that Prince Hal i s not master of the s i t u a t i o n ; that he i s torn between r i o t and good government; that he i s i n danger of becoming"the victim of his tavern companions, that he does not f u l l y appreciate them for what they are; that he i s not consciously the h e i r to the* throne and prepared to f u l f i l that destiny, not competently, but b r i l l i a n t l y . Everyone of Hal's remarks about h i s companions— from those made of the tapsters who have accepted him as a good fellow, "a very Corinthian", to those addressed to Poins i n the conversation on Hal's concern for his father — are edged with contempt, weighted with understanding and r e j e c t i o n . That i s why Henry V's cold, " I know thee not old man" has roused the controversey i t has; for P a l s t a f f , whatever h i s moral q u a l i f i c a t i o n s , has been deceived, i s frustrated i n h i s hopes, recognizes himself for a dupe. / -192-belleved; and he knows that he w i l l be mocked at as a hypocrite i f he confesses that the cause i s his concern for h is father, the king. What Hal sees coming up, as his father's i l l n e s s continues, i s the necessity to assume power; and h i s i s o l a t i o n i s oppressing him. Who would be-l i e v e him i f he said he was concerned f o r his father? Poins confirms Hal's conviction that any expression of f e e l -e ing f o r the king would be met with i n c r e d u l i t y : Prince Henry: Marry, I t e l l thee, -- i t i s not meet that I should be sad, now my father i s sick : a l b e i t , I could t e l l thee,-- as to one i t pleases me, for f a u l t of a better, to c a l l my f r i e n d , — I could be sad, and sad indeed,,too. Poins: Very hardly upon such a subject. ( I I , i i , k.0 - i|4 ) Hal knows that Poins and h i 3 associates are as much deluded i n him as a true companion of thieves, hardened and i n d i f f e r e i i t to his father, as the n o b i l i t y are deluded i n him as a hopelessly wayward youth. The mutual contempt and r i v a l r y of the thieves and t h e i r acceptance of him as one of them momentarily nettles him; but he presses his point: Prince Henry: By this hand, thou think*st me as far i n the dev i l ' s book as thou and P a l s t a f f for obduracy and persistency: l e t the end t r y the man. But I t e l l thee my heart bleeds inwardly that my father i s so sick;and keeping such v i l e company as thou art hath i n reason taken from me a l l ostentation of sorrow". -193-Polns: The reason? Prince Henry: What wouldst thou think of me, i f I should weep? PoinsI I would think thee a most princely hypocrite. ( I I , i i , 45 - 53 ) Poins has no h e s i t a t i o n : he has judged the prince by appearances as everyone had, and Hal i s pleased to f i n d him so t y p i c a l . He applauds Poins: Prince Henry: I t (that the prince i s a hypocrite) every man's thought; and thou are a blessed fellow to think as every man thinks; never a man's thought In the world keeps the road-way better than thine; every man would think me an hypocrite indeed"• ( I I , i i , 54 - 59) Here Hal i s proving that he i s aware of the t r u t h that, as Machiavelli affirmed, the vulgar judge by appearance and are misled i n judgment because they do not know the inner 1 Q problems of power. • This scene continues with a v i s i t to the inn i n Eastcheap, agreed upon deliberately as a means of spying upon P a l s t a f f , and of d r i v i n g him to more of his ingenious excuses f o r h i s 18) The Prinoe, XVIII, 77. -194-v i l i f i c a t i o n s of the prince. Episodes such as these are the embodiment i n drama of the a c t i v i t y of a si n g u l a r l y objective, balanced c r i t i c a l and curious mind, such as the astute prince of Machiavelli must be assumed to possess. These London street and tavern scenes place i n f l e s h upon the boards the maturing of a worldly w i s e ^ i n t e l l i g e n c e , the growth of a man of exceptional mental capacity. Throughout these scenes the prince appears as the youthful i n t e l l e c t bent upon understanding everything, i t s self-esteem unaffected by the mistaken impressions that others derive from the rare independence of i t s a c t i -v i t y . Thejprince, indeed, i s evolving i n t o one of those unusual personalities that can be at home i n a l l company, and i n command i n a l l assemblies, and that can keep people guessing by the novelty and daring of t h e i r a c t i v i t i e s . He i s , indeed, the p e r s o n i f i c a t i o n of the i n d i v i d u a l i s t making his entrance i n the sixteenth century to a place of prominence i n public l i f e , of whom the despotic prince was the pre-eminent example. These scenes are remarkable f o r the effect they must have had on Elizabethans as pleas for indulgence for t h e i r r u l e r who, by his p o s i t i o n was doomed to be misunderstood 0 -195-and misrepresented i n the minds of a l l be.causet.his high purpose could be known only ' to himself. A l l would think him a hypocrite i f he confessed himself. Discussion of episodes such as these i s pertinent to the subject of t h i s thesis as they i l l u s t r a t e the imagina-t i v e i n s i g h t of Shakespeare into the probable workings of the mind of a prince such as Machiavelli admired and' the age of Shakespeare required. These scenes express dramatically the l i k e l y emotional reactions and r e f l e c -tions of a nobleman consciously preparing f o r power r e s t -ing upon popular support and s t r i v i n g to organize both him-s e l f and his necessary associates to encompass the power and authority he aims at. Hal's association with P a l s t a f f and his companions i s not irresponsible self-indulgence • but a highly conscious adventure i n association, motivated c h i e f l y by his sense of destiny as heir to the throne, and designed to equip him with a capacity to know, judge and use men — even those whom i n his heart he despises — as Warwick, i n the remarks quoted, surmised. So f a r the prince appears as sanguine, youthful, witty, warlike, a master of his passions, deeply observant and astute. He has also a profound sense of h i s dignity and -196-destiny as a r u l e r , and as the heir of his father. The prince's valor and Henry I V s d u p l i c i t y com-bine to defeat the insurgent nobles and,.to bring about the capture and execution of the leaders. There follows then King Henry's plan to lead the m i l i t a n t s p i r i t s abroad i n a crusade, before peace can breed new discon-tents. Death, however, cuts off the king; and at once, the apparently riotous prince i s King Henry V. The wise prince, according to Machia v e l l i , respects the law; governs as much as possible by means of esta-19 blished i n s t i t u t i o n s ; and demonstrates his wisdom by his choice of counsellors and the relationship he es-20 tablishes between himself and them. With his f i r s t appearance among the o f f i c i a l s and nobles of.his court, Henry V a l l a y s a l l fears that had grown up among them as a r e s u l t of his apparently ungovernable youth. His entrance to them In the palace i n his regal robes i s easy and ..majestic. King Henry V: This new and gorgeous garment, majesty, Si t s not so easy on me as you think.--( V, i i , i|4 - 45 ) 19) Discourses, I , x, lij .3 - l44i 1* x x v » 1^2. 20) Prince, x x i i , 103, ltilj. - 105 . - 1 9 7 -he remarks, well knowing that they think him most u n f i t f o r i t . He pauses; and then he immediately takes on the manner and voice of authority. Most f e a r f u l of his ascent to power i s the Lord Chief Justice, l o y a l and severe enforcer of the laws of the realm under Henry IV, and more than once the agent of the young prince's discomfiture. The Chief J u s t i c e , however, i s not only retained i n o f f i c e by the new king, but i s praised f o r the diligence with which he administered the law of the land even upon the king's son. He does not receive the clemency and approval of the new king, though, before he has been subjected b r i e f l y to the t e r r o r of the king and compelled to make an open declaration of what he believes to be the r e s p o n s i b i l i t i e s of his o f f i c e . Then he i s assured by Henry V, quoting the o l d king: Henry V: (quoting Henry IV) "Happy am I, that have a man so bold That dares do j u s t i c e on my proper son". ( V, i i , 1 0 8 - 1 0 9 ) The Chief Justice has proven himself to be the i d e a l agent of the prince, ai man prepared to take upon himself respon-s i b i l i t y f o r the most unpopular acts i n the enforcement of the law. In t h i s scene Henry V demonstrates his respect for -198-law, his readiness to perpetuate the o f f i c e of effective o f f i c i a l s , and his capacity to make himself both feared and loved. His object, he declares i s to be a good r u l e r — Henry V: To mock the expectation of the world, To f r u s t r a t e prophecies, and to raze out Rotten opinion, who hath w r i t me down After my seeming, ( V, i i , 92 - 95 ) He continues: m, ... _ , _ , . The txde of blood i n me Hath proudly flow'd i n vanity t i l l now; Mow doth i t turn and ebb back to the sea, Where i t s h a l l mingle with the state of floods, And flow henceforth i n formal majesty. Now c a l l we our high court of parliament: And l e t us choose such limbs of noble counsel, That the great body of our state may go In equal rank with the best-govern'd nation; That war, or peace, or both at once, may be As things acquainted and f a m i l i a r to us; (V, i i , 95 - 105 ) a. He i s ^ p r i n c e , s e l f - w i l l e d , independent and s e l f - r e l i a n t , but prepared by virtue of understanding and a v i s i o n of state power to learn from experience, conform to law and admit counsel. The prince, before his ascent to the throne, had proven himself a man capable of hoodwinking and managing to his own ends both the common people and the n o b i l i t y . The ruthlessness of which he i s capable i n the int e r e s t s -199-i" of his state power i s then-, shown In his r e j e c t i o n of F a l s t a f f . "I know thee not old man", his i c y and death-dealing reply to the old soldier's ardent greeting to him as he, rides from the coronation, i s the essence of calcu-21 l a t i n g state p o l i c y . Inhuman to the utter degree, trea-cherous to natural human f e e l i n g , giving the l i e to every-thing he had appeared to be to the improvident knight, t h i s reply i s a l l the proof that i s needed that King Henry V i s the calmly objective, c a l c u l a t i n g and astute prince who w i l l allow nothing to stem his drive to what he conceives to be the well-ordered state. He has been a spy among the common people to learn the a r t of managing them to h i s own advantage, which he i d e n t i f i e s with that of the common-wealth. His measures to ensure that F a l s t a f f and his asso-ciates are provided f o r show j u s t i c e ^ but the punitive action that accompanies 'this justice i s k i l l i n g . F a l s t a f f dies. The opening scenes of Act I of Henry V advance the king from the ranks of the commons amongst whom i n Henry IV 21) The Prince, XVII, 71: "Let therefore a prince esteeme yt l i g h t e to be accompted c r u e l l soe he maye haue his subiectes i n fayth by feare. For he shalbe thought more gentle by shewinge a fewe examples of s e v e r i t i e , then through foolishe p i t t y e nowrishe disorders,...." - 2 0 0 -he c h i e f l y demonstrated hi s capacity f o r leadership, to the ruling'ranks of the n o b i l i t y . He has adopted hi s father's plan for a m i l i t a r y adventure abroad; but instead of a crusade, he proposes an attempt to extend his empire i n Prance; not penance but glory and prestige are his aim. I t i s an undertaking of the kind that Machiavelli advocated for a prince newly come to power. ^ Henry takes great pains to get the consent of his church and l a y supp-orters, and to f i n d just cause i n law for his proposed campaign, honoring i n t h i s the Machiavellian observation that the wise prince should give cause for his actions, color a l l enterprises with religious- pomp, and act as f a r as possible i n accordance with the laws and customs of the country. Without f u l l y declaring himself, Henry has allowed the Archbishop of Canterbury to understand that he i s i n d i f f e r e n t to a law being proposed i n parliament to deprive the church of considerable land and to subject the church to heavy taxa t i o n ^ i n order to provide the king with a f i t t i n g court 2 3 and to give him an annual income of one thousand pounds. ' 22 ) The Prince, xx, 9 5 . 2 3 ) William Shakespeare,"Henry V", The Works of William  Shakespeare, Oxford, Shakespeare Head Press, 1936", I , i , 1 - 23 and I , i , b& --201-He has insinuated that he might be open to a proposal of some compromise that would give him aid i n h i s invasion of France. The discussion of t h i s with the Archbishop, how-ever, he has put off u n t i l the French ambassador i s heard, and the matter of hi s r i g h t to the French crown by descent has,been s e t t l e d . Henry has thus made the s a t i s f a c t i o n of his desire to prove a r i g h t to the French throne a matter of most immediate concern to the prelates; and scene two of the play i s devoted to the marvellous and i n t r i c a t e argu-ment of the archbishop i n support of Henry's claim. Henry's appreciation of the e f f o r t i s p i t h i l y expressed i n his dry inq u i r y , following the long and involved argument: Henry: May I with right and conscience make t h i s claim? ( I , i i , 96 ) Nobles and churchmen hasten to take f u l l r e s p o n s i b i l i t y for urging the action; and Henry proclaims a p o l i c y as that of the counsel of his countrymen which he had conceived and decided upon before his father's death. In th i s scene Henry demonstrates the absolute prince, as Machiavelli con-ceived him, s k i l f u l l y playing off the c o n f l i c t i n g classes i n his kingdom to h i s own advantage. The virtues of Henry had already been sung by the - 2 0 2 -&rchbishop of Canterbury: Canterbury: Hear him but reason i n d i v i n i t y , And, all-admiring, with an inward wish You would desire the kind* were made a prelate; Hear him debate of commonwealth a f f a i r s , You would say i t hath been a l l - i n - a l l h is study: L i s t his discourse of war, and you s h a l l hear A f e a r f u l b a t t l e rendered you i n music: Turn him to any cause of p o l i c y , The Gordian knot of i t he w i l l unloose, Familiar as his g a r t e r : — ( I , i , 39 " 4 8 ) And the admiring Archbishop further remarks that the new king bears himself So that the art and practic part of l i f e Must be the mistress to t h i s theoric: ( I , i , 5 2 - 5 3 ) Henry V, the martial prince, champion of an expanding empire, noble se r v i t o r of the church and observer of the laws, but i n himself law-giver and chief counsellor, i s v i g i l a n t f o r the safety of himself and f o r the defence of his kingdom while he i s away at war. Act I I , scene i i , presents l a y nobles marvelling at the b r i l l i a n c e of the king, as the two churchmen did i n Act I . Now the Dukes of Bedford and Exeter, and the E a r l of Westmoreland discuss the king's apparent unconcern about-the conspiracy of Lord Scroop, the E a r l of Cambridge and S i r Thomas Grey to k i l l the king at Hampton i n the in t e r e s t of the French. - 2 0 3 -They are wondering what the king intends by going forward with h i s preparations to leave for Prance, when, asj]3edford remarks -Bedford: The king hath note'of a l l they (the-conspirators) intend, By interception which they dream not of. ( I I , 11, 6 - 7 ) King Henry, l i k e the astute Machiavellian prince he i s , has the s i t u a t i o n w e l l i n hand; and i n the council-chamber i n Southampton he stages his exposure of the g u i l t y noble-men. His technique i s to dissemble with them and lead them on with appearances of favor and trust to grow too confident and to condemn themselves out of t h e i r own mouths i n t h e i r indictment of others, and i n ' t h e i r a n t i c i -pation of further promotions; and then to expose them i n the very receipt of t h e i r new commissions. He then hands them over to the law f o r punishment. This i s the method of f o r e s t a l l i n g conspirators observed and recommended by Ma c h i a v e l l i , and the recognition of the law as the i n s t r u -ment of state security also honors the advice of Machiavelli. Henry says: King Henry: ....we our kingdom's safety must so tender Whose r u i n you have sought, that to her laws We do d e l i v e r you..• ( I I , i i , 174 - 176 ) Henry V here acts as the chief magistrate of the state, -204-i n i t i a t i n g and di r e c t i n g the exposure of the p l o t , laying the charge and proposing sentence, but honoring the law of the land as the instrument of punishment, as Machia-v e l l i would have advocated. As a s o l d i e r , which, he confesses, i s "A name that, i n my thoughts becomes me best", Henry V f u l l y accepts a l l the implications of te r r o r , b r u t a l i t y and violence that war implies; and, defied, he i s as ready as Tamburlane to threaten p i l l a g e and violence. He i s , however, the general who i s notable f o r j u s t i ce rather than for severity, combining a capacity for ruthlessness with a p o l i t i c pre-ference f o r r e s t r a i n t , as h i s readiness to preserve Harfleur from the lo o t i n g he threatened, and his severe measures against freebobting by his soldiers show. He orders d i s c i p l i n e and mercy toward the c i t i z e n s when Harfleur f i n a l l y surrenders; and under h i s general order against robbing and l o o t i n g , he has Bardolph hanged for robbing a church. He i s the va l i a n t and sober general ex-t o l l e d by Machiavelli. George Ian Duthie sees i n the drastic punishment of Bardolph evidence of the p o l i t i c reasoning of Henry V: "Shakespeare seems to s a y t h a t 'policy' i s necessary i n a king; but the i d e a l king, - 2 0 5 -while using 'p o l i c y 1 when necessary, i s , nevertheless, i n general characterized by a franker, a more open, a more warm-hearted di s p o s i t i o n than Henry IV had". 2l\. Scenes i i i , i v , v i , v i i and v i i i of Act IV are de-signed to implant Henry V i n the minds of the Elizabethans as the va l i a n t and popular leader of the English, who i s profoundly aware of the personality of hi s men, and who respects t h e i r s i m p l i c i t y and t h e i r courage. His intimate companionship with men of the ranks and of the lesser o f f i c e r class .— L l u e l l a n , Gower, Michael Williams -- i s shown i n scenes cut with the sharpness and b r i l l i a n c e of gems; and scenes with Exeter, Bedford, Warwiick and Gloucester show the respect and warm friendship he enjoys among the nobles• Henry V i s indeed that prince sought by Machiavelli, who combined valor w i t h ingenuity, and by example and s k i l l won the respectful adherence of the n o b i l i t y and the enthusiastic l o y a l t y of the commons, sealing i n hi s person and the i n s t i t u t i o n s he favored the unity of the commonwealth. Although t h i s study of true Machiavellianism makes no 2lj.) George Ian Duthie, Shakespeare, London, Hutchinson's University Library, 1 9 5 l » p. llp» 206 fcUl-ni JO ^be exhaustive,it may be not without interest to examine for evidence of Shakespeare's appreciation of Machiavellian character one of his plays that l i e s outside those dealing with English history - Coriplanus. Coriolanus dramatizes the lesson of p o l i c y relevant to this study i n scene two of act three. Coriolanus i n his home, surrounded by the patricians and attended by his mother, stubbornly refuses to change his attitude of open contempt for the people of Rome c r to appear humbly before them asking them for t h e i r vote. He i s frankly and naively astounded that his mother does not agree with him; and he alone, of a l l the p a t r i c i a n s , f a i l s to see her wisdom. Although his mother, Volumnia, i s no less contem-ptuous of the populace than he i s , she has a Machiavellian in t e l l i g e n c e as well as courage; she has, that i s , an acute understanding of the r e a l i t i e s of l i f e , as well as pride i n her p o s i t i o n as a p a t r i c i a n . Her opening words i n t h i s scene revealjher p o l i t i c a l i n s i g h t . In reply to Coriolanus' reproach of her for disapproving of h i s behaviour, she c r i e s : Voluijuiia: 0, s i r , s i r , s i r , I would have you put your power well on, Before you had worn i t out. ( I I I , i i , 17 - 19 ) 2 ^ 25) Shakespeare, Works, Oxford, 1938 - 2 0 7 -She argues for p o l i c y as defended by Machiavelli, Coriolanus should have restrained his nature, she says, when he was i n no p o s i t i o n to impose his w i l l ; and he should have awaited the moment when the power of the consulship had been f u l l y confirmed to enforce his p o l i c y . As Coriolanus remains surly, she gives him as good as he offers i n sharpness, the patricians supporting her: Volumnia: Pray, be counsell'd: I have a heart as l i t t l e apt as yours, But yet a brain that leads:: my use of anger To better vantage. ( I I I , i i , 28 - 30 ) Coriolanus, outnumbered, and faced with h i s mother's disapproval, i s cowed, and asks what he should do. He i s to l d he must apologise to the tribunes and the people. He shrinks, and Volumnia reminds him: Volumnia: You are too absolute; Though thsrein you can never be too noble, But when extrerrffities speak. I have heard you say, Honour and p o l i c y , l i k e unsever'd friends, I 1 the war do grow together; grant that, and t e l l me In peace what each of them by t h 1 other lose, That they combine not there. ( I I I , i i , 39 - 45 ) She continues the argument of p o l i c y : Volumnia.: I f i t be honour i n your wars to seem The same you are not, — which, for your best ends, You adopt your p o l i c y , —how i s i t less or wdrse, That i t s h a l l hold companionship i n peace With honour, as i n war; since that to both I t stands i n l i k e request? ( I I I , i i , 52 - 57 ) - 2 0 8 -Coriolanus f a i l s to see the connection, and Volumnia pat i e n t l y t e l l s him why he must dissemble: Volumnia: Because that now i t l i e s you on to speak To the people; not by your own i n s t r u c t i o n , Nor by the matter which your heart prompts you, But with such words that are but roted i n Your tongue, though but bastards, and s y l l a b l e s Of no allowance to your bosom's tru t h . Now, t h i s no more dishonours you at a l l Than to take i n a town with gentle words, What e l s e would put you to your f o r t u n e , and The hazards of much bloodo I would dissemble with my nature, where My fortunes and my friends at stake required I should do so i n honour: I am i n t h i s , Your wife, your son, these senators, the nobles; And you w i l l rather show our general louts How you can frown than spend a fawn upon 'em, For the inheritance of t h e i r loves, and safeguard Of what that want might r u i n . ( I I I , i i , 51 - 68 ) No clearer, more l o g i c a l or more succinct summary of the argument of Machiavellian p o l i c y could be made. Coriolanus, Volumnia remihds.hlm,, i s a noble, one of the class that commands, or w i l l s to command. He i s now dealing with those whose subservience, i f not love, must at a l l cost be retained. The moment i s not one when Coriolanus can afford to be him-s e l f , because the cost of displaying himself i n a l l his pride and scorn of the populace i s disaster to himself, his family and a l l his friends; therefore, he must use strategy, as he does before a beleaguered town, the -209-strength of which would compel him to resort to s t r a t a -gem rather than f r o n t a l attack, i f he would master i t . The moment i s one i n which dissembling does honour to oneself because i t wins safety and security f o r oneself and a l l one cherishes. F i n a l l y , Volumnia makes clear with some scorn that she would rather not believe that c s her son i s so S h i l d i s h as to wi$h to domineer b r i e f l y over louts by frowning, than to save a l l he loves from r u i n by pretending humility for a moment. Menenius' exclamation, "Noble lady l" -voices the hea r t f e l t appreciation and r e l i e f of the n o b i l i t y upon -hearing so clear a statement of t h e i r position. Doubtful of her son's understanding, Volumnia goes on to interpret her advice i n a v i v i d word picture of the prince dissem-b l i n g before the commons i n order to r e t a i n his powers and p r i v i l e g e s : Volumnia: I prithee now, my son, Go to them, with t h i s bonnet i n they hand; And thus f a r having stretcht i t , — here be with them,— Thy knee bussing the stones, — for i n such business Action i s eloquence, and the eyes of th' ignorant More learned than the ears, — waving thy K'Sead, Which often, thus, correcting thy stout heart, Now humble as the ri p e s t mulberry That w i l l not hold the handling, — or say to them, -210-Thou are t h e i r s o l d i e r , and, being bred i n b r o i l s , Hast not the soft way which, thou dost confess, Were f i t for thee to use, as they to claim, In asking t h e i r good loves; but thou w i l t frame Thyself, forsooth, hereafter t h e i r s , so f a r As thou hast power and person* ( I I I , i i , 72 - 86 ) Chapter eighteen of The Prince does not place the case more p l a i n l y . -211-Conclusion When one compares the expression of p o l i t i c a l t r u t h through the medium of the drama and through s c i e n t i f i c analysis, one must estimate the use of language with care. The s c i e n t i f i c analyst examines the events and the persons as an outside observer, and explains what he sees i n terms of objective, i f not i m p a r t i a l , c r i t i c i s m . He describes and analyses the external s o c i a l effects of the actions of his heroes. His language i s free of the expressions native to morality and sentiment, which voice the subjective reactions of people, with which he i s not concerned. Nevertheless, i t need not be assumed that the analyst Is incapable of appreciating these aspects of human experience. His theme, however, i s not f e e l i n g s , subjective motive or a s p i r a t i o n , but objective purpose and observed a c t i v i t y with their consequences upon the material status of a l l affected by those actions, i n c l u -ding the status of the i n i t i a t o r of the actions.. Machiavelli did not ponder the inner c o n f l i c t or secret hopes of Cesare Borgia, Oliverotto da Permo, Alexander, -212-Perdinand of Aragon, Moses, Romulus, Agathocles, or the feelings of the many others whose p o l i t i c a l actions he weighs, because his object i n discussing them was not the deeper understanding of the human heart, but the solution of the problem of national unity and security i n I t a l y . That his appreciation of l i f e was not exclusively that revealed i n The Prince and The Discourses i s t e s t i f i e d to by the variety of other l i t e r a r y forms to which he turned his hand not without proof of subtlety and insight of a differe n t kind. His great achievement, however, was' i n the f i e l d of p o l i t i c a l thought, probably because i t was i n p o l i t i c a l a c t i v i t y that he spent the best years of h i s l i f e , and because the subject which dominated his heart and mind was the p l i g h t of divided and invaded I t a l y , his concern for the return to his country of something of the greatness of ancient Rome. The dramatist, unlike the analyst, i s caught up i n a surging preoccupation with the human personality, with the self-consciousness and i n d i v i d u a l i t y of the actor, the doer, and the relationship between his deliberate and his involuntary, or socially-imposed, a c t i v i t y . What image does the doer have of himself as he performs his part i n -213-l i f e , what feelings does he -undergo, the dramatist asks. The success of the dramatist i s seen i n the subtlety and completeness with which he exposes the i n t e r a c t i o n of personality and environment i n promoting action, and i n bringing about a l t e r a t i o n i n personalities and s o c i a l relationships. The language of the dramatist i s that n a t i v e t o morality and sentiment, to the e x p r e s s i o n of hopes and fears and aims peculiar to the i n d i v i d u a l ; and the action of the players and resolution of the plot esta-blishes the relationship of the ideas of Individuals ex-pressed i n the dialogue to s o c i a l and objective t r u t h . Drama, considered i n r e l a t i o n to idea, then, fleshes thought, re-incarnates, as i t were, the abstract generali-zation i n the material form from which i t derived. Drama i s impossible without the creation of l i f e - l i k e people, without credible human action, and i s empty without thought. In the study of drama for the purpose of searching out the l i n e of thought that dominates i t , or which i t betrays, dialogue and action must be considered j o i n t l y , f or the r e a l character of the actor i s not necessarily •that of the sentiment he expresses; and the point of view -21k-that dominates the play may be revealed i n the r e s o l u t i o n of the action as much as, or even more than i t i s i n the dialogue, the point of view of which may express s e l f -delusion or deception, Machiavelli stripped p o l i t i c a l figures of t h e i r pro-fessions of f a i t h , moral sentiments and personal p r e d i l e c -tions to discuss their success or f a i l u r e , a s b u i l d e r s of national state power. The conclusions he came to, i t w i l l be seen by earnest examination of h i s work, express the essence of the p o l i t i c a l practice of the era i n which he l i v e d ; and the dramatists who most accurately reincarn-ated the p o l i t i c s of t h e i r time demonstrated i n e v i t a b l y i n t h e i r p o l i t i c a l characters .and the resolution of the action of t h e i r h i s t o r i c a l plays the sway of the p o l i t i c a l p r i n c i p l e s he expounded. The Machiavellian of the Marlovian romantic t r a d i t i o n ^ tends to be stereotyped and s t a t i c , because he i s a symbol rather than a r e a l being. He i s the bogey who haunted the r u l e r of every feudal p r i n c i p a l i t y , each of whom had for his d e v i l the prince who based his strength on the people rather than on the n o b i l i t y , on a b i l i t y rather than on blood. Fear distorted t h i s "Machiavellian" and endowed -215-him with d i a b o l i c a l powers and intentions. Although he became the symbol of disruptive and destructive ambition to supporters of both feudal monarchists and renaissance absolutists i n England, his outline was o r i g i n a l l y framed by the pamphleteers and spokesmen for medieval Catholic reaction and i n opposition to the trends toward national-ism. The true prince of the renaissance, the builder of the national state that was destined to supersede the feudal p r i n c i p a l i t y — the prince sought by Machiavelli and r e a l i z e d in'the Tudors of England -- was dramatized pre-eminently by Shakespeare i n his h i s t o r i c a l plays. Richard, Duke of York, i s the courageous, subtle and scheming prince who by perseverence and a b i l i t y i n war and intrigue wins support and creates occasion whereby he may a t t a i n power. Henry Bolingbroke of Hereford and Lancaster, afterward Henry IV, demonstrates i n his career the combination of opportunity and shrewd capacity to take advantage of opportunity that makes possible the r e a l i z a t i o n of a new dynasty. In Henry V Shakespeare presents the p o l i t i c prince i n heroic proportions. -216-Drawn i n essential conformity to the p r i n c i p l e s that guided Machiavelli i n his delineation of the prince, Henry V i s the absolute r u l e r through whose v i s i o n and energy the feudal p r i n c i p a l i t i e s were to be subjected and fused into the national state and the l e g i s l a t i v e and i n s t i t u t i o n a l groundwork l a i d upon which empire and democracy were d e s t i n e d to f l o u r i s h . He i s the true Machiavellian.' oOOOo WORKS CONSULTED Bihdoff, S.T., Tudor England, Hammondsworth-Middlesex, C. Nicholls and Company, Ltd., 1950 (A Pelican Book). D208 C l 6 Burd, L.A., "Florence ( I I ) : M achiavelli", C.M.H., Cambridge-University Press, 190ij., V o l . 1 , Ch. VI, 190 - 218. JClp.9 B8 B u t t e r f i e l d , H. The Statecraft of Machiavel, London, G. B e l l and Sons, I9I4.O. DA25 J6 Calendar of the Carew MMS. preserved i n the Archie-piscopal Library at Lambeth, 1589 - l 6 0 0 , ed. J.S. Brewer, M.A. and Wm. Bullen, London, Longmans, Green & Co., 1869. PR2982 C3 Campbell, L i l y B., Shakespeare's " H i s t o r i e s " , San Marino, C a l i f o r n i a , Oxford, The Clarendon Press, 1933. PR2l|i]7 P3 Chapman, George, "Bussy D'Ambois", The Plays and  Poems of George Chapman, ed. T.M. Parrott, London, George Routledge & Sons, Limited, 1910. JCll|.3 M325 Craig, Hardin, Machiavelli's The Prince, Chapel H i l l , The University of-North Carolina Press, 1944. D208 C l 6 Cunningham, Rev. Wm., "Economic Change", CMH, Cambridge University Press, 190lf, Vol. I , ch. xv, 493 - 531 . P25 S8 Dick, Hugh G., "Tamburlane Sources Once More", Studies i n Philology, The University of North Carolina .Tress, 19ZJ-9* DA28 Dictionary of National Biography, ed. L e s l i e Stephen and Sidney Lee, London, Smith, Elder & Co., 1908 - 0 9 . PR2989 D8 Duthie, George Ian, Shakespeare, London, Hutchinson's University Library, 195l« Microfilm Fellheimer, Jeannette, The Englishman's Concep-t i o n of the I t a l i a n i n the Age of Shakespeare, University of London, M.A. Thesis, 1935« Works Consulted Page 2 J A 8 1 P6 D208 Cl6 D208 Cl6 DA330 Glij. Microfilm F i g g i s , J. N., Studies of P o l i t i c a l Thought from Gerson to Grotius, LIj.lii-lb25 f Cambridge University Press, 1931. F i g g i s , J.N., " P o l i t i c a l Thought i n the Sixteenth Century" CMH, Cambridge University Press, 190)4., Vol. III,~CnT, XXII, 736-769. Gairdner, James, "The Early Tudors", CMH, Cambridge University Press, Vol. I , Ch. XIV,~l{!§3-i|.92. 1892. Henry VII. London, MacMillan & Co G e n t i l l e t , Innocent, A Discourse upon the meanes of  well governing and maintaining i n good peace a  kingdome, or other p r i n c i p a l i t i e s , Translated into the -^nglishe by Simon Patricke, London, CB369 H35 DA358 E8 H3 Printed, by Adam I s l i p , l 602 . Haydn, Hiram, The Counter-Renaissance, New York, Charles Scribner's Sons, 1950, i4.27-i4.52. Harrison, G.B., The L i f e and Death of Robert Devereux, Ea r l of Essex, New York, Henry Holt and Company, 1937• PR2673 HJ4. Henderson, P h i l i p , Christopher Marlowe, Longmans, Green & Co., 1952"! D A 3 1 7 . 2 15 Innes, Arthur D., Ten Tudor Statesmen, London, Grayson & ^rayson, 193^» ~~ PR2601 H3 Jonson, Ben, Ben Jonson, ed. C.Hi Herford & Percy Simpson, Oxford, The Clarendon Press, 1925-PR2601 Gb Jonson Benjamin, The Works of Ben Jonson, London, Chatto & Windus, 1903, 3 Vols., V ol. I I I . P R 2 9 8 9 i i ^ a Lewis, Wyndham, The Lion and the Fox, The Role of the Hero i n the Plays of Shakespeare, New York, Harper & Brothers. DG737 A2 M5 Machiavelli, Niccolo, History of Florence, London, G. B e l l & Sons, 1900. W o r k s C o n s u l t e d t P a g e 3 JCllj .3 M38 JClij .3 M325 PR2661 B6 PR2661 B6 PR2691 B8 M i c r o f i l m Z 2 0 0 2 P77 AS122 L$ P25 S8 PR2895 S3 PR2753 C8 , T h e P r i n c e a n d T h e D i s c o u r s e s , N e w " " Y o r k , T h e M o d e r n L i b r a r y , I94O. , T h e P r i n c e , A n E l i z a b e t h a n T r a n s l a t i o n , edT f r o m J u l e s P u r t h m a n M a n u s -c r i p t b y H a r d i n C r a i g , C h a p e l H i l l , T h e U n i v e r s i t y o f N o r t h C a r o l i n a P r e s s , l^kk-M a r l o w e , C h r i s t o p h e r , E d w a r d I I , L o n d o n , M e t h u e n & C o . , L t d . , 1933. ~ , T h e W o r k s o f C h r i s t o p h e r M a r l o w e , e d . R . H . C a s e , L o n d o n , M e t h u e n & C o . , L t d . , 1930 - 1933. M a r s t o n , J o h n , " A n t o n i o & M e l l i d a " a n d " T h e M a l c o n t e n t " , . T h e E n g l i s h D r a m a t i s t s , . L o n d o n , J o h n C . N i m m o , l k K i n g W i l l i a m S t r e e t , S t r a n d , W . W . , 1867. M e y e r , E d w a r d , M a e h i a v e l l i a n d t h e E l i z a b e t h a n  D r a m a , W e i m a r , V e r l a g v o n E r a i l FelbTF^fft P o l l a r d & R e d g r a v e , T h e S h o r t - T i t l e C a t a l o g u e , L o n d o n , T h e B i b l i o g r a p h i c a l S o c i e t y , 1940. P r a z , M a r l o , M a c h i a v e l l i a n d t h e E l i z a b e t h a n s ' , L o n d o n , H . M i l f o r d , 1920. R i b n e r , I r v i n g , " M a c h i a v e l l i a n d S i d n e y : »The A r c a d i a o f 1590» " , S t u d i e s i n  P h i l o l o g y , T h e U n i v e r s i t y o f N o r t h C a r o l i n a P r e s s , 1949. S a n d e r s , G e r a l d D e W . , A S h a k e s p e a r e P r i m e r , New Y o r k , R i n e h a r t & C o m p a n y I n c . , 1950. S h a k e s p e a r e , W i l l i a m , " C o r i o l a n u s " , " H e n r y l V , " " H e n r y V , " " H e n r y V I , " " R i c h a r d . I I , " " R " R i c h a r d I I I , " T h e W o r k s o f S h a k e s p e a r e , L o n d o n , M e t h u e n & C o . , L t d . , 1090 -, T h e W o r k s o f W i l l i a m S h a k e s p e a r e , O x f o r d , S h a k e s p e a r e H e a d P r e s s , 1939, S h a k e s p e a r e ' s H o l l n s h e d , W . G . B o s w e l l - S t o n e , e d . , L o n d o n , C h a t t o a n d W i n d u s P u b l i s h e r s , 1907. Works Consulted Page if. DA332 S5 Simpson, Helen, Henry VIII, London, P. Davies Ltdt., 1 9 3 4 . ~ ^ . DA86.22 R2 S 8 6 Strathmann, Ernest A., S i r Walter Raleigh, A Study i n Elizabethan Skepticism,New York, Columbia u University Press, 1 9 5 1 * Ulj.3 1 8 T3 Taylor, F.L., The Art of War i n I t a l y , l k 9 k -1 5 2 9 , Cambridge University Press, 1 9 2 1 . DA32 T7 Trevelyan, G.M., History of England, London Longmans, Green and C O L , 1929.|. M2 V7 V i l l a r i , Pasquale, The L i f e and Times of Machiavelli, New York, Charles Scribners Sons, 1929. DA 3 0 C3 William, J.A., "England and the Opening of the A t l a n t i c , " CHBE, Vol. I, 22 - 5 1 . PR2993 P2 W5 Wilson, J. Dover, The Fortunes of F a l s t a f f , Cambridge University Press, 1943. ~~ J C 8 5 W5 Wirszubski, C , Libertas as a P o l i t i c a l Idea  at Rome duringHbhe Late Republic and E a r l y  Princlpate, Cambridge University Press. 1 Q 5 0 . / 


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