In 1588, against the advice of her most trusted aides, Elizabeth I rode out on her grey gelding to address her troops gathered at Tilbury in Essex in preparation of repelling the expected invasion force of the Spanish Armada. Looking out at the assembled faces before her, she delivered a speech that would go down in history and for many would forever define her: “I know I have the body of a weak, feeble woman; but I have the heart and stomach of a king – and of a king of England too.”
The speech would have to be transcribed and redistributed for the soldiers who were unable to hear the Queen but they had all seen their monarch, armoured and on her steed, ready to stand by them to repel the Catholic invasion. This image of Elizabeth has been the key to our popular perception of her for centuries, but there’s much more to her. Elizabeth was cunning and capricious, but she could be blinded by affection, if only temporarily. She was tremendously clever, with an almost unfailing sense of what her people wanted or needed from her, but had to see off foreign invasion attempts and homegrown rebellions. While she was sitting on the throne of England the country became acquainted with some of its greatest triumphs and darkest hours.
When Elizabeth came to the throne in November 1558, the whole of Europe was on tenterhooks. How would the new Protestant queen follow the reign of her Catholic sister Mary? With an unstable nation and conspiracies at home and abroad, the situation required diplomacy, intelligence and bravery; three qualities of which Elizabeth had always had in ample supply. In fact, the unstable situation was nothing new to her; Elizabeth’s position had been precarious from the moment she was born. The daughter of Henry VIII’s second wife, Anne Boleyn, she was immediately deemed as illegitimate by any Catholic nations, who regarded the king’s divorce of Catherine of Aragon as illegal. In their eyes, Catherine’s daughter Mary was the only rightful heir to the throne.
Although both parents had been desperate for a boy, Anne would be a doting mother to her infant child, but she was sent to the executioner’s block in 1536 after failing to produce a male heir for her king. Although Henry’s third wife Jane Seymour was kind to Elizabeth and Mary, she had her own child to attend to with the birth of her son and Henry’s heir, Edward. Henry himself would not see much of Elizabeth until 1542, when he decided the time had come to reacquaint himself with his young daughter. He found her to be intelligent and charming, and decided that he would reinstate both Mary and Elizabeth back into his lineage.
In 1543, Henry married Catherine Parr, his last wife, and relations within the royal family warmed, as Mary took a maternal interest in young Edward, while Elizabeth enjoyed a sisterly relationship with both. However, when Edward took the throne upon their father’s death, cracks started to form. First, Elizabeth had to contend with the amorous attentions of Catherine’s new husband Thomas Seymour, which caused a scandal at court in 1548. Seymour’s intentions were seen as treasonous, and Elizabeth was reported to be pregnant. The young princess denied these rumours, confounding her interrogator. “She hath a very good wit and nothing is gotten of her but by great policy,” he wrote. This practice would serve her well once Mary took the throne but not all players were as skilled in the game of thrones; Seymour was executed the following year.
When the staunchly Catholic Mary refused to convert, Edward began proceedings to remove both his sisters from the line to the throne, fixing his hopes on his cousin, Lady Jane Grey, instead. However, the prince was seldom in good health during his short life, so it was no surprise that he died before the contract could be finalised and Mary became the new queen of England. Just asEdward had asked Mary to change her faith, the new queen was determined that her sister should convert. She acquiesced without enthusiasm, but it was clear to both Protestants and Catholics that her true allegiance still lay with her father’s Church of England rather than the Pope’s Catholic Church. Over the course of Mary’s reign, many conspiracy plots were designed to get Elizabeth onto the throne. None of them succeeded, but they did almost manage to get her killed.
In 1554, Thomas Wyatt attempted a rebellion following the announcement that Mary would marry the Spanish king Philip. The queen’s reprisal was brutal and swift, executing not only the ringleaders, but Jane Grey as well. Elizabeth claimed ignorance, a trick she managed to successfully repeat a year later after another attempted rebellion in 1555, but her sister’s patience was wearing thin and Elizabeth was placed in the Tower of London, with some Catholic supporters clamouring for her execution. Elizabeth’s future prospects were looking anything but golden, and the next few months saw her walking a political tightrope. Mary, desperate to provide her husband and her country with a Catholic heir to end the uncertainty surrounding the throne, announced that she was pregnant, but by 1558, it became clear that Mary’s condition was not pregnancy, but a devastating illness. Her health broke quickly, and she died on 17 November of that year after begging Elizabeth to keep England Catholic once she took the throne. Her wishes would not be fulfilled.
Elizabeth’s coronation was a stunning balancing act. With countless eyes waiting for any hint of an overtly Protestant or Catholic gestures, Elizabeth managed to confound them all. Instead, the emphasis was elsewhere: Elizabeth’s intention to restore England to a state of prosperity. The new queen knew that if she was to have any chance of surviving her early years she would need trusted and astute advisors, and chose William Cecil and Robert Dudley. Cecil had worked for Edward, survived the reign of Mary and was fiercely loyal to Elizabeth. In contrast, Dudley’s appointment and favour with the queen had nothing to do with his abilities as a politician. He had known Elizabeth since childhood and her affection for him had only grown stronger, and rumours abounded that she spent the nights as well as the days with him.
Cecil disapproved of Dudley and agreed with the majority of Parliament that Elizabeth should marry as soon as possible. The eyes of France and Spain were fixed on England and it made sense for the queen to create a marriage alliance with one of these major powers for her and the country’s safety. King Philip made no secret of his desire to marry Elizabeth, but she had no interest in marrying Mary’s former husband. Henry of Anjou was suggested as a match, but he was still a child. Elizabeth spoke instead of being married to her nation, but scandal struck when Dudley’s wife Amy died suddenly after apparently falling down the stairs in 1560. It was rumoured that Dudley had committed the deed for his queen, and Elizabeth was forced to expel him from her court.
In 1561, Elizabeth’s cousin, Mary Queen of Scots, returned to Scotland from France. For many Catholics, Mary was the true successor and she did little to downplay those clamouring for a Catholic monarch. Her arrival was perfectly timed, as Elizabeth was on the verge of death due to smallpox. However, she recovered and, with the scandal over Dudley dissipating, Elizabeth chose him to be Lord Protector, bringing him back into her court, before shocking everyone by suggesting a marriage between him and Mary. This was Elizabeth showing her political astuteness; she knew well that Scotland with a Catholic heir would have too much power, but a heir produced by her favourite and Mary Queen of Scots could potentially unite the two countries. However, Dudley refused and Mary had no interest in marrying her cousin’s paramour.
Instead, Mary married for love, choosing Lord Henry Darnley. Seeing this may have prompted Elizabeth to renew her interest in Dudley, which greatly upset the council, in particular the ambitious Lord Norfolk. When the tension between Norfolk and Dudley grew too great, Elizabeth understood that she needed to assert her authority. “I will have here but one mistress and no master,” she told Dudley. It was both a political statement and a personal one. The lack of a husband and heir was only made worse in 1566 when Mary gave birth to a son, James, but she was desperately unhappy. Darnley was a violent, drunken husband who many believed brutally murdered her secret lover, David Rizzio. Darnley would meet his own nasty end a year later, when he was found strangled in the garden of a house. Mary quickly married the Earl of Bothwell, the man who had allegedly murdered Darnley, and Scottish forces rose against her. Imprisoned and forced to abdicate, she eventually fled to England. Elizabeth agreed to give Mary shelter, but her arrival in the north had given Catholics a figurehead and rebellion brewed.
The northern Earls suggested that Norfolk should marry Mary: soon, the Northern Rebellion had begun. As the rebel forces marched south, Elizabeth moved Mary to Coventry and mustered troops of her own. The southern Earls rallied to her cause, which stunned the rebel forces, who began to retreat. Elizabeth’s victory was quick and decisive, with 700 men being executed in a brutal display of power. Norfolk was placed under arrest, but a lack of concrete evidence postponed his execution, until he was implicated in the Ridolfi plot, which aimed to make Philip II king. Elizabeth ordered and rescinded Norfolk’s execution three times – a prime example of how indecisive she could be at times – before finally deciding that he simply had to die.
If Elizabeth’s position at home appeared shaky it was positively stable compared to how she was viewed abroad. The Pope decreed that anyone who murdered the heretical English queen would be forgiven, a statement King Philip took to heart. Not wanting to risk open war, Elizabeth found other ways to aggravate her enemies. She quietly patronised the piratical exploits of John Hawkins and later his cousin Francis Drake. In 1577, when he planned to travel to South America to raid Spanish gold, Elizabeth met Drake with Walsingham, one of her French ambassadors.
The cautious Cecil had to be kept in the dark, but she told Drake explicitly that she supported him: “I would gladly be revenged on the King of Spain for diverse injuries I have received.” Having sailed through the Straits of Magellan and captured a Spanish ship carrying up to £200,000 in gold, Drake decided to sail across the Pacific, in the process becoming the first man to circumnavigate the globe. Elizabeth gloried in his achievement, and when she met the Spanish ambassador in 1581, she pointedly wore a crucifix Drake had given to her from the loot. She dined with Drake on the Golden Hind and knighted him. He had done her proud.
These piratical exploits stood in sharp contrast to the events of 1572. The St Bartholomew’s Day Massacre in Paris – the assassination of a number of French Calvinist Protestants – shocked England and the ambassador Sir Francis Walsingham was forced to take refuge. Elizabeth brought him back to London to become her spymaster, where he advised that Mary Queen of Scots was a real danger. The uprising was not only a shocking scene for English Protestants; it was also a sign that the Protestant Netherlands and their booming wool trade would soon be in danger. When William the Silent asked Elizabeth for military assistance, she did not want to be seen to intervene and give Philip of Spain an excuse to attack. Walsingham counselled war, while Cecil continued to preach marriage. So Elizabeth entertained the idea of marrying the Duke of Anjou, roughly ten years after it had first been suggested. Then, he had been an ugly youth and she had been a beautiful queen. Now, she was visibly older and the flattery of the French ambassador and Anjou’s letters began to win her over. When they finally met, it appeared that Elizabeth really was in love, but there were genuine concerns over how the English people would react.
“The anxieties Elizabeth expressed to the emissary of Mary Queen of Scots in 1561, that she too could not marry anyone without triggering unrest in one group or another, only deepened following Mary Queen of Scots’s disastrous marriages to Darnley and then Bothwell – which ended in her overthrow,” explains Leanda de Lisle, author of Tudor: The Family Story. “Elizabeth continued to look publicly for a husband to fulfil national expectations that she would provide them with an undisputed heir, and surely she hoped it was not impossible. She was married to her kingdom – a phrase she had learned from Mary Tudor. But while Mary had married, Elizabeth did not because she feared revolt by those who disapproved of her choice.”
Although she clearly wanted to marry the man that she had nicknamed her “frog,” the English people found the idea of their Virgin Queen marrying a French Catholic absolutely repulsive. When a pamphlet appeared that condemned the union, Elizabeth decreed that both the author and his printer should have their right hands cut off. Her Privy Council was split in half, with the jealous Robert Dudley vehemently opposed. Elizabeth was heartbroken, but she agreed to abstain. She gave Anjou £10,000 to continue his war against Philip in the Netherlands, but did not see him again. He tried to take power for himself but failed and died a year later.
When William the Silent was assassinated in his own house in 1584 by a Catholic fanatic, it was clear that military intervention could not be put off any longer and so in 1585, to the relief of her impatient councillors, she agreed to send a small force of men. Dudley took command in the Netherlands but proved to be incompetent, losing territory to Philip’s general, the Duke of Parma. Mary was now more dangerous than ever. Elizabeth ordered her imprisonment at the urging of Francis Walsingham, who had no intention of allowing her to live much longer. He arranged for a servant, one of his own spies, to suggest that Mary smuggle letters in beer barrels, allowing Walsingham to read everything. When Thomas Babingdon wrote to Mary with a plan to assassinate Elizabeth and give her the crown Mary wrote back with her approval; the spymaster’s trap had worked perfectly, and he had ensnared his unwitting prey.
Walsingham leapt into action and ordered the conspirators’ execution. Elizabeth had always been reluctant to execute her cousin, but she agreed she would have to stand trial. It was no surprise when the court decided that Mary should be put to death. Elizabeth grieved for Mary, or at least lamented her death. The man who had delivered the warrant was imprisoned and stripped of his title. Elizabeth was always reluctantto sign a death warrant – or at least she was reluctant to be seen to sign it. We can’t know how much of Elizabeth’s grief was genuine, but she bitterly resented the circumstances of Mary’s execution.
“Elizabeth was reluctant to be seen to execute first the senior nobleman in England, in Norfolk, and then a fellow queen, in Mary,” says de Lisle: “That is not to say she regretted their deaths. She would have preferred to have Mary murdered, for example, as she made very clear. It is also notable that she was quite ruthless in ordering the deaths of traitors of humble birth – the 900 or so executed after the Northern Rebellion testifies to that. This was three times the numbers Henry VIII had executed after the far more serious Pilgrimage of Grace, and ten times the numbers Mary executed after Wyatt’s revolt.”
Mary’s execution provided Philip II with the reason he needed to declare war and his Spanish Armada co-ordinated with the Duke of Parma’s forces in the Netherlands, with the two forces meeting before sailing on England. They launched on 12 July 1588, their forces possessing more than twice the number of English ships, but the English ships did have some advantages; they were smaller, faster, and designed to carry guns rather than men. The English ships could outmanoeuvre the Spanish fleet in open water and began to engage them in small skirmishes. It was at this point that Elizabeth rode out to meet her troops. With the threat of a Catholic force at their door, the Queen rallied the spirit of the English troops by declaring that she would fight by their side to repel anyone who dared to set foot on their land.
This grandstanding was impressive and may have gone down in history’s annals but was ultimately unnecessary. The Spanish Armada failed and Elizabeth’s victory was the seal on her status. ‘The Golden Age’ had begun, where art and literature flowered. With England a visibly powerful state, the aristocracy began to patronise the arts with great abandon. The famous playwrights of the age enjoyed patronage, albeit with some caveats. When Shakespeare wrote Richard II he was encouraged to remove a scene suggesting the ageing monarch should step aside. “Elizabeth did not care for plays,” confirms de Lisle: “All too often they were used to lecture her on this or that.”
Her crown may have been safe for now, but she received devastating blows with the deaths of two of her most trusted advisors, Dudley and Walsingham. Dudley was replaced at court by his handsome stepson, the Earl of Essex, and the young flatterer quickly became her favourite. “Robert Dudley’s death in 1588 signalled the passing of the old order, but Elizabeth still hoped Spanish fleet in open water and began to engage them in small skirmishes. It was at this point that Elizabeth rode out to meet her troops. With the threat of a Catholic force at their door, the Queen rallied the spirit of the English troops by declaring that she would fight by their side to repel anyone who dared to set foot on their land.
This grandstanding was impressive and may have gone down in history’s annals but was ultimately unnecessary. The Spanish Armada failed and Elizabeth’s victory was the seal on her status. ‘The Golden Age’ had begun, where art and literature flowered. With England a visibly powerful state, the aristocracy began to patronise the arts with great abandon. The famous playwrights of the age enjoyed patronage, albeit with some caveats. When Shakespeare wrote Richard II he was encouraged to remove a scene suggesting the ageing monarch should step aside. “Elizabeth did not care for plays,” confirms de Lisle: “All too often they were used to lecture her on this or that.”
Her crown may have been safe for now, but she received devastating blows with the deaths of two of her most trusted advisors, Dudley and Walsingham. Dudley was replaced at court by his handsome stepson, the Earl of Essex, and the young flatterer quickly became her favourite. “Robert Dudley’s death in 1588 signalled the passing of the old order, but Elizabeth still hoped she could continue ruling according to her motto, ‘Semper Eadem’ (‘Always the same’)” explains de Lisle. “As the years began to pass and her servants died she either did not replace them or find a near-equivalent to the servant she had lost.” It’s a sign of how much she leaned on her old guard that she continued to place her trust in William Cecil, even though he was almost entirely deaf and increasingly ill. It was only when he died in 1598 that Elizabeth finally agreed to appoint Robert Cecil to his father’s old post. When it became known that the Spanish were attempting to rebuild their fleet, Essex led a fleet on Cadiz and decimated their forces in port. The success gave Essex fame, something Elizabeth was taken aback by. She tried to curb him, aware that her standing among the people was her greatest asset, but Essex continued to promote his own celebrity. She became more and more frustrated with his outrageous behaviour at court, which came to a dramatic head when he half-drew his sword on her in a fit of pique.
The arts and literature may have been flourishing, but those who subscribe to this being a golden age in England’s history often forget that even after the defeat of the Spanish Armada, other uprisings, such as the 1598 Irish rebellion, occurred. The country had long been a problem for Tudor England, which had attempted to impose English values and had seen the Irish as tenants on English territory. Now, with a Spanish-backed uprising, Elizabeth needed to take decisive action. She sent her army at the start of 1599, led by Essex, who was looking to prove himself once more. He was a disaster. Rather than confronting Tyrone on the battlefield, he met him in secret and returned to England having made a treaty without the queen’s authority.
When Essex thought Cecil was plotting against him, he rushed to plead his case. Assuming he was still the queen’s favourite, he burst into her bedchamber while she was preparing for the day. He had seen Elizabeth without her make-up and regal dressing; not as a queen but as an old woman. She could not afford to be seen like this. The queen dismissed him before summoning him later to confront him with his failures and strip him of power. Rather than accepting his fate, Essex attempted rebellion. He assumed Londoners would back the popular war hero, but Elizabeth proclaimed him a traitor and sent her troops to meet him. The rebellion was a failure and Essex was executed as a traitor.
Although the later years of Elizabeth’s reign were far from golden, she could still rally her people when needed. The war in Ireland was expensive and unsuccessful, while overcrowding and failed harvests caused agitation. When Parliament publicly condemned her for granting monopolies to her favourite courtiers, which had led to price-fixing, Elizabeth was forced to address them in 1601. She agreed to put a stop to the monopolies and she reaffirmed her love for England. She won over Parliament, there was a good harvest, and a truce was reached in Ireland and Spain. “Elizabeth, old and ill, did lose some of her former grip, but never entirely,” states de Lisle. “She had followed Mary I’s example in wooing the common people from the beginning of her reign, and they continued to support her.”
Having seen off another uprising, the 50-year-old monarch’s health was failing and after an all-toorare period of good health, Elizabeth grew sickly. She was desperately frustrated by Cecil’s growing power over her and refused to go to bed as she realised that the end was coming soon. Elizabeth finally died on 23 March 1603.
Although she had struggled to change with the times in the face of younger advisors, she had been a formidable political operator. She had still shown the cunning and cleverness to understand her situation, and had never lost the image of a queen loved by her people.
“That image was not created for her,” explains de Lisle. “Elizabeth never forgot the events of 1553 when the ordinary people had backed the Tudor sisters, while the political elite had supported Jane Grey. Nor did she forget how in 1554, Mary had made a speech at the Guildhall that roused London in her defence against the Wyatt rebellion. Mary had spoken of her marriage to her kingdom, describing her coronation ring as a wedding band, and her love of her subjects as that of a mother for her children. These were the phrases and motifs Elizabeth would use repeatedly and would become absolutely central to her reign. In addition, Elizabeth also had an instinct for the crowd’s demands. Even her enemies would admit she had ‘the power of enchantment’. She wooed her people with smiles, words of love and great showmanship, and so won their hearts. Elizabeth’s people would never forget her. When she died and James I become king, people hugely missed the Tudor theatre of reciprocal love, of which Elizabeth had been the last and brightest star.”
Elizabeth’s reign was not the golden age that legend so often depicts; she faced serious uprisings, both internal and external, during her reign. She was capable of heartlessness and ruthlessness, and could be indecisive and impetuous. During the course of her rule, England saw famine, rebellion and war. However, there’s no mistaking her dedication to her country and her determination to listen to what the people wanted from her – and then give it to them. She walked a political tightrope for most of her life, and the fact that she died peacefully in her bed as queen was a major triumph in itself. The English people loved her, and she, in turn, loved them. In the hearts and minds of many of her subjects, she was – and will always be – Britain’s golden monarch.?
**********
How good was Elizabeth at Balancing the Books
While the popular image is that Mary left England in a sorry state, Leanda de Lisle explains that Elizabeth’s fiscal behaviour was far from immaculate. Mary left England £227,000 in debt, while her sister produced debts of £350,000. “Mary’s reign was not a ‘disaster’. The popular image of Mary – always 'Bloody Mary', rarely Mary I – has been greatly influenced by a combination of sexual and religious prejudice,” explains De Lisle: “Mary I had named Elizabeth as her heir, despite her personal feelings towards her sister, and so allowed the crown to be inherited peacefully. Elizabeth continued to refuse to name anyone. In 1562, believing she was dying, she asked for Robert Dudley to be made Lord Protector with an income of £20,000.”
Elizabeth was notoriously reluctant to engage in warfare because of its costs and risk, but the Spanish conflict dragged on for years, while she awarded monopolies to her favourites at court and crops failed. “While we remember Elizabeth’s success in repelling the Armada in 1588," says De Lisle, "We forget that the war continued and impoverished the country and the crown, a situation made worse by the corruption of court officials including notorious high-ranking figures such as Robert Cecil. People starved in the 1590s and the elite even began to fear possible revolution.”
Verdict
Elizabeth was forced to deal with circumstances beyond her control, such as poor harvests and an ongoing conflict with Spain, but the fact is that she was not the financial marvel many believe her to be.
**********
Before the English merchant Thomas Gresham came to prominence, the Tudors had borrowed money from the great European banks such as the Antwerp Exchange. However, these banks charged a high interest rate and it was generally acknowledged that going around Europe borrowing money did nothing to improve England’s image as a serious power. Money could also be borrowed from independent merchants, such as Horatio Palavicino, who Elizabeth was forced to borrow money from late in her reign. Gresham had previously helped Edward VI rid himself of most of his debts and founded the Royal Exchange in 1571 to challenge the power of Antwerp.
Now that Elizabeth could seek loans from within her realm, she was able to exert greater pressure to get what she wanted, while Parliament could grant her more funds if they wanted. Later in her reign, she began to use increasingly severe taxation, which contributed to her decreasing popularity.
**********
Was Religious Compromise Met?
The Church of England was one of compromise and middle ground. While she herself was a Protestant, she didn’t hold the puritanical beliefs of some of her council members. She introduced the Act of Supremacy in 1558, which reaffirmed England’s separation from Rome and established her as the head of the Church. Elizabeth understood the dangers of trying to impose religion and allowed Catholicism to continue, provided it took place in secret.
However, Leanna de Lisle reminds us that we should not forget Elizabeth’s willingness to crack down when necessary. “Elizabeth’s conservatism and pragmatism has seen her described as a religious moderate, in contrast to the ‘fanatical’ Mary,” she explains. “But as the new Protestant queen of a largely Catholic country Elizabeth was necessarily moderate, and as her reign grew longer, she proved that, like Mary, she could be utterly ruthless when faced by a threat. The hundreds of executions of villagers following the Northern Rebellion far exceeded anything her predecessors had done in similar circumstances; her later persecution of Catholics was also relentless and cruel. It is a littleknown fact that she also burned heretics – namely Anabaptists – these were far fewer in number than Mary’s victims, but then there weren’t that many Anabaptists!" She executed both Protestants and Catholics for publicly disobeying the laws of the Church of England. However, events in Europe show the English queen in a much more favourable light. Comparatively, Elizabeth was extremely tolerant. The St Bartholomew’s Day Massacre in Paris showed the fervour with which Catholic Europeans detested Protestants. She was also much more tolerant than many of her advisors.
Verdict
Elizabeth successfully found a moderate ground in a very turbulent time, but would crack down mercilessly if the rules she had laid down were broken.
Written by Jonathan Hatfull in "All About History" issue 008, 2014, pp. 45-55. Adapted and illustrated to be posted by Leopoldo Costa.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Thanks for your comments...