Life of Elizabeth I (10 page)

In Rome, on 16 February, Pope Paul IV published a Bull proclaiming that all rulers who supported heretical doctrines might be deposed by the faithful. This rendered England liable to attack from crusading Catholic powers, and increased English fears of a French attempt to place Mary Stuart on the throne. It also tested the allegiance of Elizabeth's Catholic- subjects.

The Queen was insisting upon treading a middle road. The Protestant faith was to become the established religion of England, but her watchwords were to be caution, compromise and moderation. Care must be taken not to offend her Catholic allies in Europe, and no extreme measures were to be adopted. She herself was forced to compromise, when the Protestant bishops refused to agree to enforcing celibacy upon the clergy or allowing roods, crucifixes or candles in churches. And moderation itself was compromised when those Catholic bishops who opposed the new ideas were sent to the Tower. Meanwhile, confusion reigned throughout the land, and both Catholic and Protestant services were conducted in the churches.

The bishops and some MPs expressed doubts as to whether a woman could be Supreme Head of the Church, for St Paul had stated that no woman' was permitted to act as apostle, shepherd, doctor or preacher. Eventually the Queen agreed to be styled Supreme Governor instead. On 18 March, an amended bill restoring the royal supremacy was passed 
by the Commoms. The following week, the Queen decreed that Holy Communion shiould from henceforth be conducted according to the Book of Comrmon Prayer that had been in force under Edward VI.

Meanwhile, Elizabeth had been considering how she should respond to King Philip's proposal of marriage. She had put off de Feria for a month, telling him that he should have 'no answer that was not a very good one', but his ini tial optimism was deflating daily now as he realised that her Protestant councillors were doing their best to dissuade the Queen from accepting his master.

There were a also rivals for her hand, although de Feria did not know that yet. On 20 February, Count von Helfenstein arrived from Austria, sent by the Holy' Roman Emperor, Ferdinand I, who was Philip's uncle. The Count's mrission was ostensibly to present his master's congratulations to Elizab eth on her accession, but also to determine whether she might make a suitable wife for one of the Emperor's two younger sons.

Elizabeth received von Helfenstein most warmly on 25 February, and he quickly fell under the spell of her charm. To his master, he wrote ecstatically of her prudence, her dignity, her great-mindedness 'and all other heroic virtues'. It was not long before he was telling the Queen and her courtiers about the two archdukes, Ferdinand and Charles. 'There was no one there who did not prick up his ears and listen with great admiration and silent reverence when I spoke about the ages, the morals, the talents of Your Imperial Majesty's sons, as on these points frank and exhaustive inquiries were made of me. For many thought that one of them two uld soon become consort of the Queen, and rule her and England.' Elizalbeth asked pointedly if von Helfenstein had anything private to say to her, but he remained noncommittal. The English courtiers might not know of Philip's proposal, which had been kept a secret, but he dtd, and his orders were not to do anything until he knew the outcome of that matter.

There was orue crucial issue on which the Emperor had instructed him to report back, and that was Elizabeth's religion. The elder archduke, Ferdinand, was a very pious Catholic, and even if his younger brother was less staunch in the faith, there was no question of his turning heretic. The Count wacched the Queen and carefully questioned her courtiers, reporting: 'I
hrve
observed nothing that deviates from the old Catholic creed, so there is hope that if they get a Catholic king, all religious questions may easily be settled by authority of the sovereign.' Nevertheless, he was not wholly deceived by the outward religious ceremonial at court, being unable 'clearly to fathom' what Elizabeth's intentions were regarding religion. 'She seems both to protect the Catholic religion and at the same time not entirely to condemn or 
outwardly reject the new Reformation.' He resolved therefore to wait and see what transpired.

On 14 March, when it was almost certain that the religious settlement and a peace treaty with France would soon be concluded, Elizabeth summoned de Feria to a private audience and explained that 'she could not marry Your Majesty because she is a heretic'. Besides, she had no wish to marry at all. It was her hope that the friendship between England and Spain would bring the same advantages as a marriage alliance would have done. When de Feria questioned her as to how she had reached her decision, she became 'so disturbed and excited' that he ended up assuring her that neither he nor King Philip regarded her as a heretic. He told her they could not believe that she would sanction the bills being debated by Parliament.

Elizabeth protested that she was a Protestant and could never change her views.

'My master will not change his religion for all the kingdoms in the world,' answered de Feria loftily.

'Then much less would he do it for a woman,' retorted the Queen.

De Feria had his own private theory as to the real reason for her rejection of Philip. He had been making discreet inquiries and had reached the conclusion, as he confided to his master, 'that she would have no children'. A mysterious entry in the Venetian Calendar of ambassador's dispatches states there were 'secret reasons' why Philip did not marry Elizabeth, and this may be a reference to de Feria's findings. But if so, why did Philip continue to make strenuous efforts to bring about a Habsburg match for the Queen, and talk of her having heirs, if he knew she was barren? It is perhaps unwise to place too much reliance upon the often prejudiced reports of ambassadors, some of which were based on little more than court gossip.

When Philip learned of Elizabeth's decision, he could feel only relief, but he wrote to her expressing his regret, saying that although he had desired the marriage, yet 'with good friendship we shall attain the same subject'.

But Spain, too, was moving towards a peace with France, and before the month of March had ended Philip, with most unflattering haste, had announced his impending marriage to Elisabeth of Valois, daughter of Henry II. When Elizabeth was told, she took the news amiably, giving 'little sighs, which bordered upon laughter' She imputed the failure of their marriage negotiations to Philip, fibbing that she had given no answer, and pretending to be piqued because he had not been prepared to wait for three or four months for her to do so; she declared he could not have been as deeply in love with her as de Feria would have had her believe. The ambassador received the distinct impression that she was 
laughing at him. Thus she saved face, although Philip's betrothal could not have pleased her more, for it meant that she would retain his friendship. De Feria was soon assuring her that his master, who was anxious in case Elizabeth felt slighted, would 'remain as good as a brother to her as before, and as such shall take very great interest in what concerns her, and will try to forward her affairs as if they were his own', even after Spain's new alliance with France. He would also 'render her any service in the matter of her marriage'.

Thereafter, Elizabeth's relations with de Feria were fraught, if only because of her capriciousness, her tendency to tease or mislead him, and her fondness for playing diplomatic games. 'In short', he wrote despairingly to Philip, 'what can be said here to Your Majesty is only that this country, after thirty years of a government such as Your Majesty knows, has fallen into the hands of a woman who is a daughter of the Devil, and the greatest scoundrels and heretics in the land.' It was with relief that de Feria received notice in March that he was to be recalled. His replacement would be a worldly churchman, Alvaro de Quadra, Bishop of Aquila, who arrived in London on 30 March, though de Feria would continue to act as ambassador until he left England in May.

Philip remained determined that Elizabeth, and therefore England, should be brought back into the Catholic fold, and preferably by a Habsburg marriage. He was aware by now of the Emperor's hopes, and resolved to further an alliance between Elizabeth and one of the archdukes.

On April he sent a memorandum to de Feria, listing the advantages of such a match, and instructing the ambassador to press them home to the Queen as a matter of urgency. He was to say that, since neither archduke had a principality of his own to govern, either would be free to come and reside permanently in England. Both were eminently fitted to help her bear the burden of government, as well as being well- connected and backed by the full might of the Habsburg Empire. Thus allied, her prestige would be enhanced, both in the eyes of Europe and of her subjects, and few would dare rise against her. The price of all this would of course be Elizabeth's conversion to the Catholic faith and the surrender of her independence.

Early in April peace was concluded between England and France and France and Spain with the signing of the Treaty of Cateau-Cambresis, after which Philip married Elisabeth of Valois. Under the terms of the treaty Calais was to remain in French hands for eight years, after which, if not before, Elizabeth felt certain that she would be in a position to recover it, which was one of her dearest hopes, and the one matter about which she constantly deluded herself. She was now in a stronger position 
politically, and felt more confident about proclaiming to the rest of Europe that England was once again to be a Protestant nation.

Over the Easter holidays, the Queen thrashed out the new settlement with her lords spiritual and temporal, and in the end managed to reach a compromise with the more puritanical reformers. Elizabeth was to have the title Supreme Governor of the Church of England, and an Act of Uniformity was to restore by law Edward VI's Book of Common Prayer of 1552. The mass was outlawed and all services were to be in English. Transubstantiation was denied; Anglican communicants were to 'feed on [Jesus Christ] in their hearts, with faith'. Church ornaments and vestments were to be subject to the Queen's own discretion. Every subject over sixteen was to be required to attend church on Sundays or be fined twelvepence for non-attendance. These fines would, of course, be paid mainly by Catholic recusants, who were not to be otherwise molested. In practice, in a few areas, some were subject to petty harrassment for attending or celebrating mass.

Elizabeth took time away from these negotiations on 23 April, when she dined with the Earl of Pembroke at his riverside mansion, Baynard's Castle, near Blackfriars, after which she

took a boat and was rowed up and down on the River Thames; hundreds of boats and barges were rowing about her, and thousands of people were thronging at the waterside to look upon Her Majesty, for the trumpets blew, drums beat, flutes played, guns were discharged, and squibs hurled up into the air, as the Queen moved from place to place. And thus continued until ten of the clock at night, when the Queen departed home. By these means, showing herself so freely and condescendingly unto her people, she made herself dear and acceptable to them.

The Acts of Supremacy and Uniformity were passed on 29 April 1559, and received Elizabeth's approval on 8 May, making Protestantism the official religion of the state and establishing a form of worship that in essence still exists in England today.

Both Catholics and Calvinists would have liked the legislation to have gone further, in different directions, and bitterly criticised it, but the Queen was determined on following a middle road, which the majority of her subjects seem to have wanted. Although it offended radical and vocal minority groups, the Anglican settlement of 1559 was highly successful in that it offered a moderating stability in an age of violent religious change and debate. For the Queen, it was the house built upon the rock of true religion.

The newly established Church of England desperately needed a 
spiritual leader: the See of Canterbury had been vacant since the previous November. Elizabeth wanted Matthew Parker as her Archbishop, but Parker was reluctant to accept. An early reformist, he had been chaplain to Anne Boleyn and it was to him that the doomed Anne had entrusted her daughter's spiritual welfare. Parker had prospered under Henry VIII and Edward VI, becoming Vice- Chancellor of Cambridge University, but Mary had ordered him to be defrocked because he had taken a wife. Cecil had a high opinion of Parker and felt that he had the qualities needed to lead the new Church. He was firm, and he was diplomatic; he also held moderate views. Because of this, Elizabeth was prepared to overlook Parker's marriage, and offered him the primacy.

Parker was horrified. 'I would rather go to prison than accept,' he declared, but the Queen and Cecil were persistent. Nevertheless, it was not until August 1559 that Parker capitulated.

De Feria knew now that Elizabeth was bound ultimately for hell, and as a means of saving her and her subjects from eternal damnation, joined forces with the Imperial ambassador, von Helfenstein, in an attempt to arrange a marriage with one of the Austrian archdukes. The Emperor had just sent a portrait of the elder, Ferdinand, to his London embassy, and de Feria threw his weight behind the project, determined that Philip should take the credit for arranging the marriage.

The ambassador saw the Queen to discuss the matter, but she was delightfully evasive and left him fuming. On 18 April, he reported: 'To say the truth, I could not tell Your Majesty what this woman means to do with herself, and those who know her best know no more than I do.'

Meanwhile, the Emperor, having heard that Elizabeth had rejected Philip II as a husband, and also having learned of her heretical sympathies, had decided not to press the suit of the pious and bigoted Archduke Ferdinand, whom Elizabeth had privately dismissed as being 'fit only for praying for his own family'. Instead, the Emperor planned to put forward his younger son, Charles, as the most suitable husband for the Queen of England. There was some risk involved, naturally, and the Emperor confided to von Helfenstein that he would never have permitted Charles to place his immortal soul in such danger were it not for weighty political reasons. Underestimating Elizabeth's commitment to the Anglican settlement, Ferdinand was confident that marriage to Charles would bring about her conversion to Catholicism.