Since 1066, there have been more than forty kings and queens of Britain (give or take a Cromwell, Scotland not included). They are a dazzling cast of characters, and we routinely debate over who deserves the title of greatest ruler in our long history. From William the Conqueror to Henry V, Elizabeth I, Victoria and latterly Elizabeth II – their lives tell the story of our nation.
But how exactly do you measure a monarch?
Measuring Monarchy provides a completely original outlook as to how to analyse British kings and queens and throws a revisionist Molotov cocktail into our historical thinking. It puts forward and explains the case for five comparative metrics for all UK their professional standing, their popular standing with the public, their impact on public finances, how they conducted foreign policy and their preparations for succession.
Tim Hames casts a forensic eye over fifteen key kings and queens, determining whether their status has been overrated or underrated. What is revealed may surprise you, and some overlooked monarchs are returned to their rightful standing.
The premise of this book lies somewhere between a pub game and a necessary academic exercise. As Hames notes, much popular discussion of the best British monarchs measure this solely by personal abilities and not whether they were actually effective as a ruler and leader. Of course, he also points out how what makes a good monarch is subjective and the ideal has changed over time. One important distinction that I feel should be made is whether King so-and-so was a good monarch for their country versus whether they were a good monarch for their dynasty.
Despite the challenges inherent in making a criteria to identify good monarchs, Hames’ five point list is quite solid and hits the most important points, though it was a bit strange that there was no separate category for how well each monarch performed the role of kingly superiority, though some of it is touched upon in other points. For the recent monarchs, I also feel Hames does not take sufficient account of how they engage and contend with the Internet, where ordinary people more often make their grievances heard than through riots and revolts– online, it’s common to see people who don’t even live in Britain express strong anti-monarchist sentiments against even well-like monarchs like Elizabeth II, to say nothing of her much less popular son. Although I understand why only a handful of monarchs were subjected to a detailed account (this would make the book much too long and it is unlikely that Hames, or anyone for that matter, has the necessary knowledge for such an undertaking), it means that little justification is given for the ratings of the other monarchs given in the introduction. Speaking of this introduction, in it Hames expands beyond being underrated or overrated and lays out a rating system of good to terrible (where all the deposed monarchs are by default), but it never affects the rest of the book, which is content with giving its subjects a rating of overrated or underrated. It’s a shame, not only because I was intrigued by the judgements Hames makes on the monarchs outside his scope, especially his comment about James I/VI being “possibly at the top of this division (of average)”, but because the reader frustratingly never gets to find out if Hames thinks the monarchs with their own chapters were good or not, as opposed to just being better or worse than their reputation.
While this is a setback, the book itself does make up for most of it by giving intriguing and demystifying analyses of figures both well-known and forgotten. Predictably, the lesser known monarchs are usually dubbed underrated, while the famous are considered overrated. I particularly enjoyed Hames’ case against Elizabeth I, which may shock some readers but has precedents in some recent scholarship (at the same time, Mary I’s reputation has improved, but Hames shows no knowledge of it). Speaking of Mary, I was disappointed that Mary II was underdiscussed in William III’s chapter. Hames considers her difficult to rate because she was the inferior partner in the arrangement and died after just five years, but he does not consider how her brief reign should be understood specifically as a co-rule, unprecedented in English history– the king really does have two bodies. Hames speaks disparagingly of the concept of co-monarchy without considering what non-administrative role Mary played and how they complimented each other or acted/were seen as a set. It’s not like this is untapped territory- the recent Later Stuart Queens anthology alone contains three chapters about Mary.
I know I spent most of this review complaining, but this is probably not far from what Hames wanted. This is a surprisingly thought provoking book that will be of interest to many seeking a more profound understanding of Britain’s monarchs.