The Color of Honesty:

Copyright © 1996 by Jeff Wheeler

A young Italian from Urbino arrived in London in 1502. An ambitious humanist, he used the little fame he made made for himself in Italy and sought a better opportunity with the English nobility. It was not uncommon to find Italians seeking to earn a living in England during this time. One modern historian wrote that "England was a country to which occasional visiting Italian humanists came in search of patrons, although not always with success."[1] Polydore Vergil, that young man from Urbino, achieved his notoriety when Henry VII commissioned him in 1508 to write a history of the English people. Libraries were opened to him and court records were exposed, providing the information any historian would need to accomplish such a formidable task. All these were given under the king's authority. But did this royal patronage affect the accuracy and reliability of Vergil's work? Did the support he received from Tudor kings cause him to abandon objectivity and report what his benefactors wanted? Polydore Vergil survived the English Reformation, and his most famous work -- the Anglica Historia -- has also survived. However, it does not measure up to the historical standards of accuracy expected of a man who lived during his time, nor was it considered totally reliable by historians living years and centuries after him. Today, most historians acknowledge and recognize the strong Tudor bias prevalent within it. Yet reading the Anglica Historia,one sees contradictory colors used to paint the truth -- colors which make Vergil's own history nearly as controversial as one of the men he defames -- Richard III.

After examining Vergil's contemporaries, like Sir Thomas More and Philippe de Commines, one sees immediately their Tudor bias. All three men left their records after Richard III's death at Bosworth Field in 1485. To them, the story of Richard III's usurpation was famous and still a fresh reality in Europe. Men wrote to discuss their views and opinions about it. Another Italian visitor, Dominic Mancini, had been in England in 1483 and witnessed Richard's takeover. Mancini's attitude about the Duke who became King is revealed in the opening sentence of the letter he wrote to his patron: "You have often besought me, Angelo Cato, most reverend father in God, to put in writing by what machinations Richard the Third, who is now reigning in England, attained the high degree of kingship, a story which I had repeatedly gone over in your presence." [2] Mancini's words, sculpted around the Latin term artibus[3], speak of the "machinations" of Richard to become king.

Similarly, in his book on Richard III, Vergil reveals his opinions about the usurpation. According to Vergil, Richard's desire for the throne sparked immediately following the death of his brother, Edward IV, like a stack of dry tinder:

When Richard had intelligence thereof [of Edward IV's death], he began to be kindled with an ardent desire of sovereignty; but for that there was no cause at all whereby he might bring the same to pass that could carry any color of honesty, so much as in outward show and appearance, he differed the devise thereof presently unto another time.[4]

Keep in mind that Vergil was probably thirteen years-old when this happened in 1483. We do not know when Vergil learned first-hand about the event, but we see that he formed his own opinion of the last Plantagenet king in the first paragraph of his book. Yet these images of Richard III -- as a guarded, conniving, ruthless monarch -- have lasted over five hundred years. They seasoned the work of Edward Hall five centuries ago and Alison Weir today and contribute to the myth of a man whose ambition and evil was immortalized by Shakespeare. However, Vergil left out a keen detail that belonged in the first chapter of his book about Richard III. There was another man in 1483, who -- after the death of Edward IV -- desired to have the throne. A smoldering ember of the Lancastrian House known as Henry Tudor still burned in France.

Evidence of this is found in Vergil's own work. Even during the reign of Edward IV, the threat of Henry Tudor and another Lancastrian uprising proved noteworthy by Vergil. He wrote that despite the peace Edward had secured in his realm, he was troubled with insecurity, knowing the young Tudor was still alive:

King Edward having by this means pacified as well martial as civil causes, although by victory of so many battles he were accounted the happiest man of that age, who might now pass the rest of his life in most perfect peace and security, yet for as much as young Henry earl of Richmond (the only imp now left of king Henry the 6ths blood) was yet alive he adjudged this only thing to distrub all his felicity, so that he lived, as it were, in perpetual fear.[5]

It is not strange that Vergil did not mention this again at the commencement of his book on Richard III. Instead, he focuses the spotlight on the Duke of Gloucester and all of the actions that led him to a throne at Westminster, thus muting the "machinations" of Henry Tudor.

Vergil chose his words about Henry Tudor carefully. Earlier in his work, he invented a notion that God intended Henry to rule England. Even after all the struggles during the War of the Roses between the Houses of York and Lancaster, Vergil insisted that the Tudor house was meant to heal the rift and fuse the kingdom whole again. Vergil records that the young Henry of Richmond was brought before Henry VI during the War of the Roses:

When the king saw the child, beholding within himself without speech a pretty space the halty disposition thereof, he is reported to have said to the noblemen there present, 'This truly, this is he unto whom both we and our adversaries must yield and give over dominion.'

Thus the holy man showed it would come to pass that Henry should in time enjoy the kingdom.[6]

Vergil does not cite any of his sources for this statement, but lays it down as fact -- an event prognosticated years before it happened. Henry VI -- the king who Vergil claims made this statement -- was seen by Vergil as a "holy man," when in reality he was a political pawn. He lacked the strength of his father, the famous Henry V, and when the Lancastrian House was deposed by the Yorkists, his French wife was the one who led an army in an attempt to revive it. Why would Vergil include this scene in the Anglica Historia? The event written down in a history made it appear as if Henry were destined by God to be the rightful successor to Henry VI. Yet in spite of this empty prognostication, there was no certain means anyone could have foreseen who was going to win the Battle of Bosworth Field in 1485.

In a very subtle way, the confrontation between Richard III and Henry Tudor at Bosworth Field offered Vergil a perfect opportunity to acclaim himself in the Tudor court. Richard III's usurpation provided the smokescreen from behind which Henry could operate. The years 1483 to 1485 were a political tug-of-war between these two men, trampling under their feet the two sons of Edward IV. However, in the years that followed 1485, the stench of blame and fault was heaped on Richard III's grave, leaving Henry Tudor smelling like a rose -- a red rose. The technique of castigating enemies through literature is not new. Vergil used it in his history: Richard III symbolized everything that is evil and badand dishonest, while Henry Tudor symbolized everything that is good, forthright, and commendable.

Let us offer two examples of Vergil's technique. For one, he gives us the impression that no one wanted Richard III to be king -- "Thus Richard, without assent of the commonalty, by might and will of certain noblemen of his faction, enjoined the realm, contrary to the law of God and man."[7] This is historically inaccurate, but it serves Vergil's point. Richard of Gloucester did not stage a military coup. Whether or not we approve of his usurpation, he did it legally and with popular support, especially from northern England where he ruled. It is interesting that the "assent of the commonalty" was considered an important factor to Vergil's case. We find Henry VII's claims to kingship also dependant on the people's will: "The means was this, that Henry earl of Richmond, . . . might be sent for in all haste possible, and assisted with all that they might do, so that he would promise before by solemn oath, that after he had once obtained the kingdom he would take to wife Elizabeth, king Edward's eldest daughter."[8] Thus Henry Tudor was invited to rule, while Richard III seized the crown. Richard was seen as a powerful land-holder who wanted to claim the ultimate power, while Henry was a poverty-stricken Earl who had just been released from prison.

The other is an incident reported in more than one source -- that of Richard III's nightmare before the Battle of Bosworth Field. The Croyland Chronicle, one of the few contemporary accounts of the battle, affirms the report that Richard had been plagued by dreams the night before:

The king, so it was reported, had seen that night, in a terrible dream, a multitude of demons apparently surrounding him, just as he attested in the morning when he presented a countenance which was always drawn but was then even more pale and deathly, and affirmed that the outcome of this day's battle, to whichever side the victory was granted, would totally destroy the kingdom of England.[9]

The chronicler of Croyland added an interpretation of it -- that Richard III declared to his soldiers the morning of battle that "he would ruin all the partisans of the other side, if he emerged as the victor, predicting that his adversary would do exactly the same to the king's supporters if the victory fell to him."[10] Though Vergil mentions the same dream, he does not interpret it the same way -- in a sense literally fulfilling Richard's prediction. In the comparable passage in Vergil's history, there can be no mistaking his opinion:

But (I believe) it was no dream, but a conscience guilty of heinous offences, a conscience (I say) so much the more grievous as the offences were more great, which, thought at none other time, yet in the last day of our life is wont to represent to us the memory of our sins committed, and withal to show unto us the pains imminent for the same, that, being upon good cause penitent at that instant for our evil led life, we may be compelled to go hence in heaviness of heart.[11]

Thus we find two writers recording the same scene, but with different intentions. The Croyland chronicle attempts to record what Richard said about the dream, while Vergil offered an explanation that supported the political view of his patron -- the Tudor king.

It is disturbing how much the attitudes and opinions Vergil created in the Anglica Historia infiltrated mainstream history. We find similar echoes of thought in Edward Hall's Chronicle, the Hardying Chronicle, Philippe de Comines' memoirs -- even in William Shakespeare's play. Some writers relied on Vergil as a true authority when people in his own day and shortly after did not. Keep in mind that a great gap existed between when he wrote and the people who were still alive at the time. To believe Vergil's version of the story -- as it may have been related to him over seventeen years after the fact -- without considering the Tudor bias involved in the telling would be like trying to decipher the contours of a map with the wrong prescription lenses. Vergil lived in Tudor England under the man who had defeated and killed the previous king.

Over five hundred years has passed since the death of Richard III. A little less than that time has passed since the death of Polydore Vergil. Though nearly everyone has heard of the infamous Plantagenet king, very few are familiar with the historian who penned some of the greatest myths about him, such as his "deformed" body and his habit of fidgeting with daggers.[12] As the public memory of Vergil has gradually faded, so have the sordid rumors about him. For example, while Sir Henry Ellis compiled three of Vergil's books from the Anglica Historia for publication in 1844, he mentioned the flurry of attacks against the Italian historian. Vergil was charged of burning source documents for his own interests.[13] Ellis also mentions that one Bishop Nicolson accused him in 1776 of borrowing "books out of the public library at Oxford, without taking any care to restore them: upon which the University, as they had good reason, declined lending any more, till forced to it by a mandate, which he made a shift to procure from the King. In other places he likewise pillaged the libraries at his pleasure, and at last sent over a whole ship-load of manuscripts to Rome."[14]

There is no concrete proof to justify these allegations, but even the suspicion of it makes a modern historian cringe. If it these allegations are true, why would Vergil want to burn or spirit away manuscripts? What was written in them that may have damaged his own work? One fact about Vergil that raises suspicion is that he was arrested and imprisoned in the Tower of London by Henry VIII in April of 1515. Why? We do not have any record of the reason, though we do have a letter the pope wrote to the English king asking for Vergil's release. However, the records also say that Vergil was commissioned to write the Anglica Historia in 1508 by Henry VII and that he finished the preliminary research and first draft in six years. Vergil was incarcerated in 1515, and the first edition was not printed until 1534. Why the long delay to such a monumental work? Historians in the past accused Vergil of destroying documents that may have revealed the errors in his work.

To be fair, Vergil is also supported by historians throughout the ages. But the issues are not suitably resolved. Most of his supporters simply do not believe him capable of burning books or pillaging libraries. They do not prove his innocence, nor do his accusers prove his guilt. However, as these references faded over time, the newer generations of historians and writers often failed to properly filter the information in the Anglica Historia. For example, Alison Weir -- in her book The Princes in the Tower -- suggests her strong belief in his objectivity: "[Polydore Vergil] could be maddeningly vague at times, and selective about what he wrote, yet he was no sycophant. He was critical of Henry VII in places, and raised a storm by his rejection of the time-honored notion that the Arthurian legends were based on fact. Thus he was no mere propagandist, but an objective writer who drew his own conclusions."[15] She remarked about the legend of the burned books, and suggests that "this may well be the reason why so few sources for Richard III's reign have come down to us -- those that have survived were either hidden or abroad. However, Vergil himself says that he could find very few written sources for the period after 1450."[16] If there were so few sources, and nearly all of Richard III's major supporters had been killed in battle or executed by Henry VII, where did Vergil get his information?

Polydore Vergil will remain an enigma. There is evidence to support him and there is evidence to condemn him. Who was this Italian humanist who visited England and was asked to compile its history? A more important question to ask is what really happened in England during a time with so few sources to detail it. If his remarks about Richard III were prompted by the accounts of his enemies, how can we -- five hundred years later -- objectively discern past the stench of the corpse of a king, "naked of all clothing, and laid upon a horse back with the arms and legs hanging down on both sides."[17] An end, according to Polydore Vergil, "not unworthy for the man's life."[18]

[1] J.A.F. Thomson, The Transformation of Medieval England (London: 1983): 353. Quoted from The Ricardian: Journal of the Richard III Society Vol. X, No. 132 p. 377.

[2] Dominic Mancini, The Usurpation of Richard III (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1969): 57.

[3] ars, artis, skill; art; work of art; profession; theory; manner of acting; cunning, artifice, hypocrisy.

[4] Polydore Vergil, Three Books of Polydore Vergil's English History, Comprising the Reigns of Henry VI., Edward IV., and Richard III (London: J. B. Nichols and Son, 1844): 173. [Note: the language in all of Vergil's quotations has been modernized.]

[5] Ibid., 164.

[6] Ibid., 135.

[7] Ibid., 187.

[8] Ibid., 194.

[9] Nicholas Pronay and John Cox, ed., The Crowland Chronicle Continuations 1459-1486 (London: Alan Sutton, 1986): 181.

[10] Ibid.

[11] Vergil, 222.

[12] Ibid., 227.

[13] Ibid., xxiii. [The editor, Sir Henry Ellis, wrote: "La Popliniere, in his 'Histoire des Histoires,' improves even upon this; he says, Polydore caused all the histories to be burnt, which by the King's authority and the assistance of his friends he could possibly come at." -- La Popliniere, Hist. des Histoires, liv. ix, p. 485.]

[14] Vergil, xxvi.

[15] Alison Weir, The Princes in the Tower. (New York: Ballantine Books, 1992): 8.

[16] Ibid.

[17] Vergil, 226.

[18] Ibid.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Hay, Denys. Polydore Vergil: Renaissance Historian and Man of Letters. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1952.

Kingsford, Charles Lethbridge. English Historical Literature in the Fifteenth Century. New York: Burt Franklin, 1913.

Mancini, Dominic. The Usurpation of Richard III. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1969.

Pronay, Nicholas and John Cox, ed. The Crowland Chronicle Continuations 1459-1486. London: Alan Sutton, 1986.

Thomson, J.A.F. The Transformation of Medieval England. London, 1983.

Vergil, Polydore. Anglica Historia Books 23-25. London: J. B. Nichols, 1844.

Weir, Alison. The Princes in the Tower. New York: Ballantine Books, 1992.

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