Working for a narcissistic autocrat isn't easy.
Me, I've always wondered what the attraction is. I guess for some people the proximity to power -- and thus, obtaining some measure of power themselves -- is enough. There's usually money to be had as well. But... the risk! When allegiances shift, which they inevitably do, someone in the inner circle can find themselves on the outside mighty quick. (Sometimes all the way out, if you get my drift.) Factional jockeying and backstabbing kind of come with the territory.
The problem with selling your soul is that it usually doesn't stay bought.
Surprisingly enough, I'm not talking about Donald Trump here, although this certainly applies to him and his cadre. The topic comes up because I just finished reading the excellent Henry VIII: The King and His Court by Alison Weir. Henry VIII, especially toward the end of his life, had a lot in common with Trump -- the egotism, the touchiness, the deflection of blame for... well, for everything. Weir writes:
[H]e was given to such unpredictable and terrifying explosions of rage that those about him concluded they had to deal with "the most dangerous and cruel man in the world." On days when he was in an irritable mood, his courtiers had to keep their wits about them, for "when he came to his chamber he would look [around] angrily, and after fall to fighting." Few dared contradict him, since his egotism was such that he was unable to conceive that he might be in the wrong.
No one at court ever felt truly safe, for the King had amply demonstrated that he "never made a man but he destroyeth him again, either with displeasure or with the sword." Even his outward bonhomie could be sinister, for he often showed a smiling face to those whom he meant to destroy. Abroad, he was known as "the English Nero," and it was said that "in England, death has snatched everyone of worth away, or fear has shrunk them up."... [A] man arrested in Kent for slandering him was not exaggerating when he said, "If the King knew every man's thought, it would make his heart quake."
I find it baffling that anyone would choose to associate with someone like that. I'm not talking about his wives here; of the six of them, two were divorced and two beheaded, but back then women didn't have much choice in marriage, and if the king wanted you, well... you just sort of had to go along with it. (Of the two who were executed, it seems like Anne Boleyn was herself a bit of an arrogant power-grubber who made herself some dangerous enemies, and Katherine Howard appears to have been simply young, naïve, and boy-crazy.)
But Henry was surrounded by nobles (both of the to-the-manner-born and the up-and-coming nouveau-riche types) who were desperately elbowing each other out of the way to capture the king's approval. Even though one after the other, they ended up paying for it.
Here are a few examples:
- Edward Stafford, 3rd Duke of Buckingham -- made the twin mistakes of being too close a cousin to Henry for comfort, and being outspoken in criticizing him. He was accused of plotting to kill the king and was executed.
- Cardinal Thomas Wolsey -- rose to the position of Lord Chancellor, but became powerful enough that he was destined to fall. He was recalled to London to face capital charges of high treason, but (luckily?) died of natural causes on the way there.
- George Boleyn, Viscount Rochford -- brother of Anne Boleyn, he was caught up in her downfall, and accused (almost certainly falsely) of having incest with her. He was beheaded.
- Jane (Parker) Boleyn, Lady Rochford -- George's wife, who was a dedicated gossip of the "let's see how many people I can get in trouble" type. She probably didn't rat out her husband, as has been claimed, but had no scruples about telling tales on anyone and everyone else. She finally got caught in her own web during the downfall of Henry's fifth wife, Katherine Howard, and was five minutes behind the queen in stepping up to the executioner's block.
- Thomas Cromwell -- Lord Chamberlain and Lord Privy Seal, and one of Henry's closest confidants, Cromwell is another one who grew too powerful and made enemies. He also ended up losing his head on Tower Hill. Henry later said he regretted Cromwell's death, but blamed it on being "misled by others," on the strength of whose statements he "had put to death the most faithful servant he ever had."
- Sir Thomas More -- the eminent theologian and philosopher refused to accept the annulment of Henry's marriage to Katherine of Aragon, and (worse) take the Oath of Supremacy recognizing Henry as the head of the Church in England. More was beheaded, ending his life with his characteristic humor -- the story is he said to the guard, "See me safely up to the scaffold, sir -- on the voyage downwards I'll fend for myself."
- Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey -- a quarrelsome hothead who made the mistake of angering the powerful Seymour family, he pissed off enough people that he was accused of treason on trumped-up charges and was beheaded only nine days before the king himself died. His father, the Duke of Norfolk, was also condemned to death, but managed to escape the axe for a few more days and was pardoned after Henry shuffled off this mortal coil.
What strikes me about all this is that all these people must have known what Henry was like. How could they not? And yet one after another, they pushed further and further into court intrigue, and one after another paid for it with their lives.
It reminds me of the incident a few years ago where some people were at an inspirational weekend seminar by motivational speaker Tony Robbins, and the culmination was walking barefoot across a fire pit. Dozens of people ended up in the hospital with severely blistered feet. I (sort of) get how the first couple were injured; you're told, "Okay, if you do this right and just believe in yourself, you won't get hurt." For them, it's just a matter of having trusted the wrong person. But after the first five or six people are obviously getting their feet scorched, wouldn't you think the rest of the participants would say, "No, thank you?" Thirty people ended up injured, which led me to speculate that they'd lined up in reverse order of IQ or something.
But reading the biography of King Henry VIII makes me question that assessment. Because these noblemen (and even a few women) who were part of Henry's ongoing royal court row of dominoes weren't fools. They were arrogant, a lot of them, and power-hungry, but they were very far from stupid.
So why, after seeing what happened to some of the early victims -- men like Buckingham, Rochford, and More -- did people not say, "Nope, I'll pass on an appointment to the Privy Council. If you need me, I'll be in my manor house in a remote part of the Lakes District."
That's sure as hell what I'd have done.
But that isn't what happened. However many of the dominoes fell, there never seemed to be a shortage of people stepping up to be next. Up to the very end, the nobles were still jockeying for Henry's approval. At the time of his death the Seymours, relatives of Henry's third wife Jane, were in ascendancy, but they too didn't last long. During Henry's son Edward VI's short reign, Edward's uncles -- the brothers Edward and Thomas Seymour -- both ended up losing their heads to the executioner's axe as well.
I mean, how strong can a belief in "it won't happen to me" get?
I said I wasn't going to focus on Trump, but I have to wonder the same about his loyalists. Do they really think he has any loyalty to them? People like Michael Cohen and Anthony Scaramucci found out how quickly Trump will throw his devotees under the bus when it serves him. Trump is scarily similar in personality to Henry VIII -- not nearly as smart, but as ruthless, humorless, egotistical, and self-serving.
If I were at all inclined to be in politics, I would not want to bet my career on an association with a man who has no fealty to anyone but himself. But like King Henry, Trump seems to be surrounded by people clamoring to be part of his inner circle. (At the time of this writing, Elon Musk seems to be in a rapidly-escalating feud with Trump -- just illustrating that even erstwhile kingmakers can find themselves in royal disfavor more or less overnight.)
I guess this is just further evidence that I don't understand my fellow humans very well. Hardly the first time I've made this observation. I guess that's one thing that keeps me fascinated with history -- it leaves me saying, over and over, "People are so weird."
But more to the point, this is a beautiful illustration of Mark Twain's comment that "History doesn't repeat itself, but it often rhymes."
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