Elizabeth I was the first English Queen to lend her name to an
entire age. But in the half-century known for its pageantry and
glamour, things were not always as they seemed.
QUEEN ELIZABETH I AND HER TIMES have left behind an
extraordinary
image of a dazzling era of excitement and achievement, nearly
superhuman heroes and daring deeds, with the Queen, larger than life,
radiating inspiration at the centre of it all. I When her namesake,
Queen Elizabeth II, came to the throne in 1952, her subjects hoped that
another “golden age” was at hand — that the British would once again
stun the world with their brilliance and panache, just as the English
had done in the days of the first. The second Elizabethan age never
transpired, not only because the expectation was unreasonable, but
because the first age of Elizabeth never existed as it has long been
perceived.
The misperception was deliberately created to hide the crucial
weaknesses in 16th-century England and its vulnerable Queen. The House
of Tudor, of which Elizabeth became the fifth and last monarch,
excelled at propaganda, and Elizabeth I needed favourable press. When
she came to the throne on 17th November 1558, she quickly realized she
had inherited a poor, ill-equipped country highly vulnerable to attack.
Religious upheavals over the previous 30 years had deeply divided her
exhausted subjects.
The Queen's own status was just as depressing. Much of Europe
regarded her as an illegitimate child of King Henry VIII and his second
wife, Anne Boleyn, since the Pope had not sanctioned Henry's divorce
from his first wife, Catherine of Aragon. As a bastard, Elizabeth had
no right to the English throne. Furthermore, her father's break from
the Roman Catholic Church made her anathema to Catholics both in and
outside England who regarded her distant cousin, Mary, Queen of Scots,
as the rightful sovereign. Especially in the early years of Elizabeth's
reign, England always faced the danger of attack from the great Roman
Catholic powers, Spain and France, egged on by the Pope. Against these
perils, the Queen could rely only on her own wits, her gambler's
instinct, and above all, her talent for creating a cult of personality.
ELIZABETH SECURED HER POSITION BY creating a glorious public
image
that overwhelmed religious differences and appealed directly to English
patriotism. In order to win her subjects over, she needed to be visible
and, in an age of slow communications, that meant undertaking many
royal “progresses.”
“We princes,” Elizabeth told the English Parliament, “are set
as it
were upon stages in the sight and view of the world.” Elizabeth's
progresses, accordingly, resembled travelling theatre, and every summer
of the first 20 years of her reign saw her moving in splendid
procession through the major towns and cities of England. The
centrepiece was, of course, the Queen herself. A dazzling figure almost
submerged in the jewels, brocade, and ornaments of her dress, she was
more like a living icon than a human being. The layers of this
theatrical front Elizabeth presented to the outside world have hidden
the real person within from historians seeking a truer understanding of
the Queen. Much about her personal as well as her public life remains
mysterious, and this is probably just what she wanted.
However, if she herself was the chief author of this persona,
Elizabeth had backup of the highest order. Poets, playwrights,
painters, the creators of water pageants and masques at court,
propagandists, pamphleteers, and ballad-makers all conspired to
intensify the image of Elizabeth as “Gloriana,” the Virgin Queen or the
“Faerie Queene” of Edmund Spenser's fantasy. Artists also promoted
Elizabeth in all her bejewelled glamour, surrounded by a glittering
court full of lusty young men whose dauntless deeds she inspired.
Through most of her life, and certainly in her early years as
Queen,
Elizabeth lived dangerously so that she and England could survive.
England's principal enemies, France and Spain, enjoyed far greater
wealth, influence, and military might. England had little chance of
resisting a direct onslaught from them. Elizabeth relied, therefore, on
guile, smokescreens, and confusion. She deliberately exploited the
enmity between France and Spain, hinting at aid for one against the
other, never committing herself, but always holding out hope. As long
as she kept her enemies guessing, she could be reasonably sure that
neither would risk a war on two fronts by attacking England.
Elizabeth always drew back from courses of action that might
provoke
her enemies. At the same time, she kept her options open and never gave
in to pressure. When her reign began, for instance, Elizabeth hinted to
Henri II of France that she would break with King Philip of Spain if
Henri would restore Calais to England. (Calais, a former English
possession, had been taken by France in January 1558.) At the same
time, she persuaded Philip that she would be willing to marry him and
so ally England with Spain. As a result, Elizabeth gained compensation
for Calais while Philip went on living in hope.
The Queen confounded even the Pope with her wiles. He watched
England closely to see whether Elizabeth would reverse the policy of
her Roman Catholic half-sister and predecessor, Queen Mary I, and turn
her realm into a fully Protestant state. Try as he might, though, the
Pope was never able to decide whether she would or would not. On the
one hand, Elizabeth kept the Catholic mass in her own private chapel
and sent an ambassador to the Papal Court. On the other, the Queen and
her advisors slowly steered legislation through Parliament that gave
first place to the Protestant faith, with concessions to make the
religious settlement palatable to Catholics. Then again, Elizabeth
allowed outrageous fun to be made of the Roman church at court
mummeries, where crows were dressed up as cardinals and asses as
bishops. However, she made it clear that she would force no one's
conscience to conform to the Protestant faith and make no one a martyr
in the cause of religion.
Elizabeth took blatant advantage of the fact that her enemies
expected a woman to be indecisive. She took care, of course, to conceal
the devious mind, keen political instinct, and strong urge to survive
that lay at the root of her protean proceedings. All that showed on the
outside was a monarch who offered hope and then backtracked, gave half
a promise and then denied it.
Where she could not follow such an indeterminate course,
Elizabeth
fell back on the royal prerogative to decide important matters
unilaterally. Very often, when no safer option presented itself, that
meant doing nothing. This was certainly true when it came to naming the
successor to her throne. If she named a Catholic heir she would
alienate her Protestant subjects — they remembered only too well the
fires that had consumed those Mary had considered heretics. The other
choice, a Protestant heir, would inevitably lead to the foreign
invasion and conquest Elizabeth feared. She chose no one until the last
possible moment, when she was dying in 1603.
A third alternative, one constantly urged on her, was for
Elizabeth
to marry and produce her own heir. There was no shortage of applicants
— from Philip of Spain to the heir to the Swedish throne; from assorted
foreign dukes and English nobles to the spectacularly squat and ugly
Duc d'Alençon, whom Elizabeth called her “frog.” Elizabeth kept
the
Duke dangling for years, and he was still seriously, but hopelessly,
wooing her when she was in her mid-forties. Meanwhile, of course,
Elizabeth could avoid considering marriage with anyone else.
POLITICAL AND ECONOMIC OPPORTUNISM MOTIVATED many of these
suits, as
was common with royal unions in Elizabeth's time. None of her suitors
realized, though, that while Elizabeth kept them dangling as it suited
her, she had no intention of marrying any of them. Most likely, she
truly loved only one man, Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester, who
according to rumour almost succeeded in getting her to the altar.
However, when she and Dudley were both about nine years old, she had
told him she would never take a husband. This was no piece of childish
melodrama. Elizabeth knew from personal experience that royal marriage
was dangerous. The marital history of her father, the six-times-married
King Henry VIII, had been a nightmarish lesson. He had hounded his
first wife, Catherine, to death; executed two others, including
Elizabeth's mother, Anne Boleyn; and terrorized three of the other
four. Elizabeth watched from the sidelines and drew her own conclusions.
After she became Queen, the dangers of marriage took on
another
aspect. A husband would not have occupied a secondary position, like
Prince Albert, Queen Victoria's husband, or Prince Philip, who married
the second Elizabeth in 1947. At the time of Elizabeth I, the husband
of a reigning Queen could claim the Crown Matrimonial and rule as King
during her lifetime. In the case of a foreign husband, this meant the
one thing Elizabeth's subjects most hated: foreign influence in English
affairs. If, on the other hand, she opted to marry an English noble,
she would make him an “overmighty subject” with more power than any
subject ought to possess. This situation had a particular poignancy in
16th-century England. The Tudors had claimed the throne in 1485 after
the Wars of the Roses, a struggle for control that had laid waste to
many an English noble. Elizabeth would not risk a repeat performance
and so resolved to keep her nobles from access to royal power. One of
her most famous assertions — that she was wedded to her kingdom — was
another way of saying that England was the only “husband” she could
have who would not prove a danger to her.
There were, of course, limits to just how far Elizabeth could
go in
masking her intentions. It was one thing to keep suitors in suspense,
quite another to challenge the Spaniards in America and Europe without
incurring their wrath. The Spaniards believed their American empire was
God-given. Their astounding achievements in exploring, conquering, and
settling this huge area brought Spain so much wealth in gold, silver,
and jewels that the currency of Europe had to be revised to take
account of it.
Spain's growing wealth obviously worried Elizabeth. Philip had
never
ruled out a war against England, and a potential flashpoint lay just
across the English Channel. The Spanish Netherlands, heavily
militarized by Philip, was Protestant territory and a possession as
important for its own product — cloth — as the New World was for gold
and silver.
The Dutch “sea-beggars” used English harbours as havens when
the
Netherlands finally rebelled against its Spanish masters. Even
Elizabeth's prevarication could not stop Philip realizing that the
English sympathized with the rebels, and that English privateers had
cast greedy eyes on Spanish America. Philip had initially allowed his
colonies to conduct a certain amount of trade with England, but in 1567
Spain closed its American colonies to all foreigners, and the English
Protestant heretics in particular.
The ambitious English, however, dearly wanted to muscle in on
the
wealth of the New World to build up England's resources, and if legal
trade came to an end, piracy would do. In 1572, Francis Drake sailed
the Atlantic to Panama, where the Spanish marshalled their treasure
fleets. With characteristic daring, Drake hijacked the latest shipment
and returned to England, his ships' holds stuffed with booty. Five
years later Drake carried out a thoroughgoing series of raids against
several Spanish settlements and again returned home loaded with
treasure. For good measure, Drake sailed round the world, the first
Englishman to do so.
King Philip complained about the English pirates, but
Elizabeth
parried the protests, claiming Drake's activities were his own private
business. Even so, when Drake returned triumphant in 1580, she went
down to greet him when he stepped ashore at Deptford. There on the
quayside, with the Spanish ambassador glowering nearby, she drew a
sword and knighted Drake.
Thus far, Philip had been too preoccupied in Europe to
consider a
serious attack on England and its impudent Queen. He had contented
himself with fomenting plots against Elizabeth among the English
Catholics. However, incidents like the knighting of Drake, as well as
the failure of the plot to unseat Elizabeth, and English interference
in the Netherlands greatly raised the temperature of Anglo-Spanish
rivalry. In 1587, when Mary, Queen of Scots' involvement in the most
serious conspiracy against Elizabeth resulted in her execution, the
enmity escalated, and a course was set for war.
HOWEVER, DRAKE FORCED THE SPANISH TO DELAY their attack on
England
by launching his most outrageous strike yet, against the Armada Philip
was gathering at Cadiz. The effect was only temporary. Within a year,
Philip had replaced the ships and stores. The invasion force left Spain
in the early summer of 1588, bound for the Netherlands where it planned
to embark a large army.
The embarkation never took place. Philip's Armada failed,
partly
through the wild, destructive weather in the English Channel, partly
because of the deadly firepower of the new-style English galleons.
Channel storms tore at the lumbering Spanish vessels, and English guns
pounded their timbers, reducing the much-vaunted Armada to a mass of
wallowing, leaking hulks. The survivors did not return to Spain until
the end of 1588, having sailed round the British Isles and out into the
Atlantic. At least half the surviving Spanish ships wrecked or sank on
the way.
The news that tiny, pipsqueak England had laid low the mighty
fleet
and pride of Spain stunned Europe. The English felt both triumph and
relief. The genius of her seamen, aided by phenomenal good luck, had
saved England. But, as always where Elizabeth was concerned, it had
been a very close thing.
By this time, Elizabeth had been Queen of England for 30 years
— a
long time to wait for some security. Though the war with Spain lasted
in desultory fashion for another 15 years, the worst perils Elizabeth
and England would face were behind them.
When Elizabeth died in 1603, England was an expanding power
with a
rich and growing trade in the Netherlands, the Mediterranean, the
Middle East, and even Russia. In addition, the groundwork had been laid
for the first English settlement in the New World, established in
Virginia in 1607. Though still early in the day, the realm Elizabeth
preserved against great odds was on its way to its later status as a
prime world power, while the sun of Spain was slowly sinking. This,
rather than the overblown image of a celebrity Queen and her “golden
age,” was the real source of lustre in the reign of the first Elizabeth
and her country.
Elizabeth looks older and rather intimidating in this portrait
attributed to the studio of Marcus Gheeraerts.
“THE QUEEN COULD RELY ONLY ON HER OWN WITS, HERGAMBLER'S
INSTINCTS,
AND ABOVE ALL, HER TALENT FOR CREATING A CULT OF PERSONALITY.”
FIRST ELIZABETH
To read more about courtly life in the golden age of Elizabeth
I, go to the British History Online pages at BritishHeritage.com.
PHOTO (COLOR): Previous Spread: Portrait of Elizabeth I may
have been painted by Nicholas Hilliard (1547–1619).
PHOTO (COLOR): Above: The illustration on the frontispiece of
Elizabeth's prayer book shows her at prayer.
PHOTO (COLOR): Left: During the early years of Elizabeth's
reign,
King Philip II of Spain never knew for certain whether she was friend
or foe.
PHOTO (COLOR): Right: King Henri II of France was kept
guessing as
well, as England's Queen played Spain and France against each other.
PHOTO (COLOR): image is everything Clockwise from left: Robert
Dudley, thought to be Elizabeth's only love. The Queen knights Sir
Francis Drake at Deptford. This portrait of Her Majesty, attributed to
George Gower, commemorates the defeat of the Spanish Armada. Below: An
engraving depicts the Queen's funeral procession.
PHOTO (COLOR): Bottom: The English fleet engages the Spanish
Armada
in the battle that set England's sun on its ascending course; painted
by Nicholas Hilliard.
~~~~~~~~
By Brenda Ralph Lewis
BRENDA RALPH LEWIS has contributed frequently to BRITISH
HERITAGE and has written many book on British history.