c
  

 

 

When Henry Tudor, earl of Richmond, seized the throne on Aug. 22, 1485, leaving the
Yorkist Richard III dead upon the field of battle, few Englishmen would have predicted that
118 years of Tudor rule had begun. Six sovereigns had come and gone, and at least 15 major
battles had been fought between rival contenders to the throne since that moment in 1399
when the divinity that ³doth hedge a king´ was violated and Richard II was forced to abdicate.
Simple arithmetic forecast that Henry VII would last no more than a decade and that
Bosworth Field was nothing more than another of the erratic swings of the military pendulum
in the struggle between the houses of York and Lancaster. What gave Henry Tudor victory in
1485 was not so much personal charisma as the fact that key noblemen deserted Richard III at
the moment of his greatest need, that Thomas Stanley, 2nd Baron Stanley (later 1st Earl of
Derby), and his brother, Sir William, stood aside during most of the battle in order to be on
the winning team, and that Louis XI of France supplied the Lancastrian forces with 1,000
mercenary troops.

The desperateness of the new monarch's gamble was equalled only by the doubtfulness of his
claim. Henry VII's Lancastrian blood was tainted by bastardy twice over. He was descended
on his mother's side from the Beaufort family, the offspring of John of Gaunt and his mistress
Katherine Swynford, and, though their children had been legitimized by act of Parliament,
they had been specifically barred from the succession. His father's genealogy was equally
suspect: Edmund Tudor, Earl of Richmond, was born to Catherine of Valois, widowed queen
of Henry V, by her clerk of the wardrobe, Owen Tudor; and the precise marital status of their
relationship has never been established. Had quality of Plantagenet blood, not military
conquest, been the essential condition of monarchy, Edward, Earl of Warwick, the 10-year-
old nephew of Edward IV, would have sat upon the throne. Might, not soiled right, had won
out on the high ground at Bosworth Field, and Henry VII claimed his title by conquest. The
new king, however, wisely sought to fortify his doubtful genealogical pretension first by
parliamentary acclamation and then by royal marriage. The Parliament of November 1485 did
not confer regal power on the first Tudor monarch²victory in war had already done that²
but it did acknowledge Henry as ³our new sovereign lord.´ Then, on Jan. 18, 1486, Henry VII
married Elizabeth of York, the eldest daughter of Edward IV, thereby uniting ³the white rose
and the red´ and launching England upon a century of ³smooth-fac'd peace with smiling
plenty.´

³God's fair ordinance,´ which Shakespeare and later generations so clearly observed in the
events of 1485±86, was not limited to military victory, parliamentary sanction, and a fruitful
marriage; the hidden hand of economic, social, and intellectual change was also on Henry's
side. The day was coming when the successful prince would be more praised than the heroic
monarch and the solvent sovereign more admired than the pious one. Henry Tudor was
probably no better or worse than the first Lancastrian, Henry IV; they both worked diligently
at their royal craft and had to fight hard to keep their crowns; but the seventh Henry achieved
what the fourth had not²a secure and permanent dynasty²because England in 1485 was
moving into a period of unprecedented economic growth and social change.
c    

By 1485 the kingdom had begun to recover from the demographic catastrophe of the Black
Death and the agricultural depression of the late 14th century. As the 15th century came to a
close, the rate of population growth began to increase and continued to rise throughout the
following century. The population, which in 1400 may have dropped as low as 2,500,000, had
by 1600 grown to about 4,000,000. More people meant more mouths to feed, more backs to
cover, and more vanity to satisfy. In response, yeoman farmers, gentleman sheep growers,
urban cloth manufacturers, and merchant adventurers produced a social and economic
revolution. With extraordinary speed the export of raw wool gave way to the export of woolen
cloth manufactured at home, and the wool clothier or entrepreneur was soon buying fleece
from sheep raisers, transporting the wool to cottagers for spinning and weaving, paying the
farmer's wife and children by the piece, and collecting the finished article for shipment to
Bristol, London, and eventually Europe. By the time Henry VII seized the throne, the
Merchant Adventurers, an association of London cloth exporters, were controlling the
London±Antwerp market. By 1496 they were a chartered organization with a legal monopoly
of the woolen cloth trade, and largely as a consequence of their political and international
importance, Henry successfully negotiated the Intercursus Magnus, a highly favourable
commercial treaty between England and the Low Countries.

As landlords increased the size of their flocks to the point that ruminants outnumbered human
beings 3 to 1, and as clothiers grew rich on the wool trade, inflation injected new life into the
economy. England was caught up in a vast European spiral of rising prices, declining real
wages, and cheap money. Between 1500 and 1540, prices in England doubled, and they
doubled again in the next generation. In 1450 the cost of wheat was what it had been in 1300;
by 1550 it had tripled. Contemporaries blamed inflation on human greed and only slowly
began to perceive that rising prices were the result of inflationary pressures brought on by the
increase in population, international war, and the flood of gold and silver arriving from the
New World.

Inflation and the wool trade together created an economic and social upheaval. Land plenty,
labour shortage, low rents, and high wages, which had prevailed throughout the early 15th
century as a consequence of economic depression and reduced population, were replaced by
land shortage, labour surplus, high rents, and declining wages. The landlord, who a century
before could find neither tenants nor labourers for his land and had left his fields fallow, could
now convert his meadows into sheep runs. His rents and profits soared; his need for labour
declined, for one shepherd and his dog could do the work of half a dozen men who had
previously tilled the same field. Slowly the medieval system of land tenure and communal
farming broke down. The common land of the manor was divided up and fenced in, and the
peasant farmer who held his tenure either by copy (a document recorded in the manor court)
or by unwritten custom was evicted.

The total extent of enclosure and eviction is difficult to assess, but between 1455 and 1607 in
34 counties 516,573 acres (208,954 hectares), or 2.76 percent of the total, were enclosed, and
some 50,000 persons were forced off the land. Statistics, however, are deceptive regarding
both the emotional impact and the extent of change. The most disturbing aspect of the land
revolution was not the emergence of a vagrant and unemployable labour force for whom
society felt no social responsibility but an unprecedented increase in what men feared most²
change. Farming techniques were transformed, the gap between rich and poor increased, the
timeless quality of village life was upset, and on all levels of society old families were being
replaced by new.

The beneficiaries of change, as always, were the most grasping, the most ruthless, and the best
educated segments of the population: the landed country gentlemen and their socially inferior
cousins, the merchants and lawyers. By 1500 the essential economic basis for the landed
country gentleman's future political and social ascendancy was being formed: the 15th-
century knight of the shire was changing from a desperate and irresponsible land proprietor,
ready to support the baronial feuding of the Wars of the Roses, into a respectable landowner
desiring strong, practical government and the rule of law. The gentry did not care whether
Henry VII's royal pedigree could bear close inspection; their own lineage was not above
suspicion, and they were willing to serve the prince ³in parliament, in council, in commission
and other offices of the commonwealth.´

±  
 

It is no longer fashionable to call Henry VII a ³new monarch,´ and, indeed, if the first Tudor
had a model for reconstructing the monarchy, it was the example of the great medieval kings.
Newness, however, should not be totally denied Henry Tudor; his royal blood was very
³new,´ and the extraordinary efficiency of his regime introduced a spirit into government that
had rarely been present in the medieval past. It was, in fact, ³newness´ that governed the early
policy of the reign, for the Tudor dynasty had to be secured and all those with a better or older
claim to the throne liquidated. Elizabeth of York was deftly handled by marriage; the sons of
Edward IV had already been removed from the list, presumably murdered by their uncle
Richard III; the Earl of Warwick was promptly imprisoned; but the descendants of Edward
IV's sister and daughters remained a threat to the new government. Equally dangerous was the
persistent myth that the younger of the two princes murdered in the Tower had escaped his
assassin and that the Earl of Warwick had escaped his jailers. The existence of pretenders
acted as a catalyst for further baronial discontent and Yorkist aspirations, and in 1487 John de
la Pole, a nephew of Edward IV by his sister Elizabeth, with the support of 2,000 mercenary
troops paid for with Burgundian gold, landed in England to support the pretensions of
Lambert Simnel, who passed himself off as the authentic Earl of Warwick. Again Henry
Tudor was triumphant in war; at the Battle of Stoke, de la Pole was killed and Simnel
captured and demoted to a scullery boy in the royal kitchen. Ten years later Henry had to do it
all over again, this time with a handsome Flemish lad named Perkin Warbeck, who for six
years was accepted in Yorkist circles in Europe as the real Richard IV, brother of the
murdered Edward V. Warbeck tried to take advantage of Cornish anger against heavy royal
taxation and increased government efficiency and sought to lead a Cornish army of social
malcontents against the Tudor throne. It was a measure of the new vigour and popularity of
the Tudor monarchy, as well as the support of the gentry, that social revolution and further
dynastic war were total failures, and Warbeck found himself in the Tower along with the Earl
of Warwick. In the end both men proved too dangerous to live, even in captivity, and in 1499
they were executed.

The policy of dynastic extermination did not cease with the new century. Under Henry VIII,
the Duke of Buckingham, who was descended from the youngest son of Edward III, was
destroyed in 1521; the Earl of Warwick's sister, the Countess of Salisbury, was beheaded in
1541 and her descendants harried out of the land; and in 1546 the poet Henry Howard, Earl of
Surrey, the grandson of Buckingham, was put to death. By the end of Henry VIII's reign the
job had been so well done that the curse of Edward III's fecundity had been replaced by the
opposite problem²the Tudor line proved to be infertile when it came to producing healthy
male heirs. Henry VII sired Arthur, who died in 1502, and Henry VIII in turn produced only
one legitimate son, Edward VI, who died at the age of 16, thereby ending the direct male
descent.

  

It was not enough for Henry VII to secure his dynasty; he also had to reestablish the financial
credit of his crown and reassert the authority of royal law. Feudal kings had traditionally lived
off four sources of nonparliamentary income: rents from the royal estates, revenues from
import and export taxes, fees from the administration of justice, and moneys extracted on the
basis of a vassal's duty to his overlord. The first Tudor was no different from his Yorkist or
medieval predecessors; he was simply more ruthless and successful in demanding every
penny that was owed him. Henry's first move was to confiscate all the estates of Yorkist
adherents and to restore all property over which the crown had lost control since 1455 (in
some cases as far back as 1377). To these essentially statutory steps he added efficiency of
rent collection. In 1485 income from crown lands had totalled £29,000; by 1509 land
revenues had risen to £42,000 and the profits from the Duchy of Lancaster had jumped from
£650 to £6,500. At the same time, the Tudors profited from the growing economic prosperity
of the realm, and custom receipts rose from over £20,000 to an average of £40,000 by the
time Henry died.

The increase in custom and land revenues was applauded, for it meant fewer parliamentary
subsidies and fitted the medieval formula that kings should live on their own, not
parliamentary, income. But the collection of revenues from feudal sources and from the
administration of justice caused great discontent and earned Henry his reputation as a miser
and extortionist. Generally Henry demanded no more than his due as the highest feudal
overlord, and a year after he became sovereign, he established a commission to look into land
tenure to discover who held property by knight's fee²that is, by obligation to perform
military services. Occasionally he overstepped the bounds of feudal decency and abused his
rights. In 1504, for instance, he levied a feudal aid (tax) to pay for the knighting of his son²
who had been knighted 15 years before and had been dead for two. Henry VIII continued his
father's policy of fiscal feudalism, forcing through Parliament in 1536 the Statute of Uses to
prevent landowners from escaping ³relief´ and wardship (feudal inheritance taxes) by legal
trickery and establishing the Court of Wards and Liveries in 1540 to handle the profits of
feudal wardship. The howl of protest was so great that in 1540 Henry VIII had to
compromise, and by the Statute of Wills a subject who held his property by knight's fee was
permitted to bequeath two-thirds of his land without feudal obligation.

To fiscal feudalism Henry VII added rigorous administration of justice. As law became more
effective, it also became more profitable, and the policy of levying heavy fines as punishment
upon those who dared break the king's peace proved to be a useful whip over the mighty
magnate and a welcome addition to the king's exchequer. Even war and diplomacy were
sources of revenue; one of the major reasons Henry VII wanted his second son, Henry, to
marry his brother's widow was that the king was reluctant to return the dowry of 200,000
crowns that Ferdinand and Isabella of Spain had given for the marriage of their daughter,
Catherine of Aragon. Generally Henry believed in a good-neighbour policy²alliance with
Spain by the marriage of Arthur and Catherine in 1501 and peace with Scotland by the
marriage of his daughter Margaret to James IV in 1503²on the grounds that peace was cheap
and trade profitable. In 1489, however, he was faced with the threat of the union of the Duchy
of Brittany with the French crown; and England, Spain, the empire, and Burgundy went to
war to stop it. Nevertheless, as soon as it became clear that nothing could prevent France from
absorbing the duchy, Henry negotiated the unheroic but financially rewarding Treaty of
Étaples in 1492, whereby he disclaimed all historic rights to French territory (except Calais)
in return for an indemnity of £159,000. By fair means or foul, when the first Tudor died, his
total nonparliamentary annual income had risen at least twofold and stood in the
neighbourhood of £113,000 (some estimates are as high as £142,000). From land alone the
king received £42,000, while the greatest landlord in the realm had to make do with less than
£5,000; economically speaking, there were no longer any overmighty magnates.


      

Money could buy power, but respect could only be won by law enforcement. The problem for
Henry VII was not to replace an old system of government with a new²no Tudor was
consciously a revolutionary²but to make the ancient system work tolerably well. He had to
tame but not destroy the nobility, develop organs of administration directly under his control,
and wipe out provincialism and privilege wherever they appeared. In the task of curbing the
old nobility, the king was immeasurably helped by the high aristocratic death rate during the
Wars of the Roses; but where war left off, policy took over. Commissions of Array composed
of local notables were appointed by the crown for each county in order to make use of the
power of the aristocracy in raising troops but to prevent them from maintaining private armies
(livery) with which to intimidate justice (maintenance) or threaten the throne.

Previous monarchs had sought to enforce the laws against livery and maintenance, but the
first two Tudors, though they never totally abolished such evils, built up a reasonably efficient
machine for enforcing the law, based on the historic premise that the king in the midst of his
council was the fountain of justice. Traditionally the royal council had heard all sorts of cases,
and its members rapidly began to specialize. The Court of Chancery had for years dealt with
civil offenses, and the Court of Star Chamber evolved to handle criminal cases, the Court of
Requests poor men's suits, and the Court of Admiralty piracy. The process by which the
conciliar courts developed was largely accidental, and the Court of Star Chamber acquired its
name from the star-painted ceiling of the room in which the councillors sat, not from the
statute of 1487 that recognized its existence. Conciliar justice was popular because the
ordinary courts where common law prevailed were slow and cumbersome, favoured the rich
and mighty, and tended to break down when asked to deal with riot, maintenance, livery,
perjury, and fraud. The same search for efficiency applied to matters of finance. The
traditional fiscal agency of the crown, the exchequer, was burdened down with archaic
procedures and restrictions, and Henry VII turned to the more intimate and flexible
departments of his personal household²specifically to the treasurer of the chamber, whom he
could supervise directly²as the central tax-raising, rent-collecting, and money-disbursing
segment of government.

The Tudors sought to enforce law in every corner of their kingdom, and step by step the
blurred medieval profile of a realm shattered by semiautonomous franchises, in which local
law and custom were obeyed more than the king's law, was transformed into the clear outline
of a single state filled with loyal subjects obeying the king's decrees. By 1500 royal
government had been extended into the northern counties and Wales by the creation of a
Council of the North and a Council for the Welsh Marches. The Welsh principalities had
always been difficult to control, and it was not until 1536 that Henry VIII brought royal law
directly into Wales and incorporated the 136 self-governing lordships into a greater England
with five new shires.

If the term ³new monarchy´ was inappropriate in 1485, the same cannot be said for the year
of Henry VII's death, for when he died in 1509, after 24 years of reign, he bequeathed to his
son something quite new in English history: a safe throne, a solvent government, a prosperous
land, and a reasonably united kingdom. Only one vital aspect of the past remained untouched,
the independent Roman Catholic church, and it was left to the second Tudor to destroy this
remaining vestige of medievalism.

 !

" # 

A prince of 18 inherited his father's throne, but the son of an Ipswich butcher carried on
the first Tudor's administrative policies. While the young sovereign enjoyed his inheritance,
Thomas Wolsey collected titles²archbishop of York in 1514, lord chancellor and cardinal
legate in 1515, and papal legate for life in 1524. He exercised a degree of power never before
wielded by king or minister, for as lord chancellor and cardinal legate he united in his portly
person the authority of church and state. He sought to tame both the lords temporal and
spiritual, administering to the nobility the ³new law of the Star Chamber,´ protecting the
rights of the underprivileged in the poor men's Court of Requests, and teaching the abbots and
bishops that they were subjects as well as ecclesiastical princes. Long before Henry assumed
full power over his subjects' souls as well as their bodies, his servant had marked the way.
The cardinal's administration, however, was stronger on promise than performance, and for all
his fine qualities and many talents he exposed himself to the accusation that he prostituted
policy for pecuniary gain and personal pride.

Together, the king and cardinal plunged the kingdom into international politics and war and
helped make England one of the centres of Renaissance learning and brilliance. But the
sovereign and his chief servant overestimated England's international position in the
continental struggle between Francis I of France and the emperor Charles V. Militarily, the
kingdom was of the same magnitude as the papacy²the English king had about the same
revenues and could field about the same size army²and, as one contemporary noted, England
with its back door constantly exposed to Scotland and with its economy dependent upon the
Flanders wool trade was a mere ³morsel among those choppers´ of Europe. Nevertheless,
Wolsey's diplomacy was based on the expectation that England could swing the balance of
power either to France or to the empire and by holding that position could maintain the peace
of Europe. The hollowness of the cardinal's policy was revealed in 1525 when Charles
disastrously defeated and captured Francis at the Battle of Pavia. Italy was overrun with the
emperor's troops, the pope became an imperial chaplain, all of Europe bowed before the
conqueror, and England sank from being the fulcrum of continental diplomacy to the level of
a second-rate power just at the moment when Henry had decided to rid himself of his wife,
the 42-year-old Catherine of Aragon.


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It is still a subject of debate whether Henry's decision to seek an annulment of his marriage
and wed Anne Boleyn was a matter of state, of love, or of conscience. Quite possibly all three
operated; Catherine was fat, seven years her husband's senior, incapable of bearing further
children, and Anne was everything that the queen was not²pretty, vivacious, and fruitful.
Catherine had produced only one child to live past infancy and that was a girl, Princess Mary;
it seemed ironic indeed that the first Tudor should have solved the question of the succession
only to expose the kingdom to an even greater peril in the second generation: a female ruler.
The need for a male heir was paramount, for the last queen of England, Matilda, in the 12th
century, had been a disaster, and there was no reason to believe that another would be any
better. Finally, there was the question of the king's conscience. Henry had married his
brother's widow, and though the pope had granted a dispensation, the fact of the matter
remained that every male child born to Henry and Catherine had died, and it was clearly
written in Leviticus: ³If a man takes his brother's wife, it is impurity; he has uncovered his
brother's nakedness, they shall be childless´ (20:21).

Unfortunately, Henry's annulment was not destined to stand or fall upon the theological issue
of whether a papal dispensation could set aside such a prohibition, for Catherine was not
simply the king's wife, she was also the aunt of the emperor Charles V, the most powerful
sovereign in Europe. Both Henry and his cardinal knew that the annulment would never be
granted unless the emperor's power in Italy could be overthrown by an Anglo-French military
alliance and the pope rescued from imperial domination, and for three years Wolsey worked
desperately to achieve this diplomatic and military end. Caught between an all-powerful
emperor and a truculent English king, Clement VII procrastinated and offered all sorts of
doubtful solutions short of annulment, including the marriage of Princess Mary and the king's
illegitimate son, Henry Fitzroy, Duke of Richmond; the legitimizing of all children begotten
of Anne Boleyn; and the suggestion that Catherine go into a nunnery so that the king could be
given permission to remarry. Wolsey's purpose was to have the marriage annulled and the
trial held in London, but in 1529, despite the arrival of Lorenzo Cardinal Campeggio to set up
the machinery for a hearing, Wolsey's plans exploded. In July the pope ordered Campeggio to
transfer the case to Rome, where a decision against the king was a foregone conclusion; and
in August Francis and the emperor made peace at the Treaty of Cambrai. Wolsey's policies
were a failure, and he was dismissed from office in October 1529. He died on November 29,
just in time to escape trial for treason.


*  +$
 

Henry now began groping for new means to achieve his purpose. At first he contemplated
little more than blackmail to frighten the pope into submission; but slowly, reluctantly, and
not realizing the full consequences of his actions, he moved step by step to open defiance and
a total break with Rome. Wolsey in his person and his policies had represented the past. He
was the last of the great ecclesiastical statesmen who had been as much at home in the
cosmopolitan world of European Christendom, with its spiritual centre in Rome, as in a
provincial capital such as London. By the time of Henry's matrimonial crisis Christendom was
dissolving. Not only were feudal kingdoms assuming the character of independent nation-
states, but the spiritual unity of Christ's seamless cloak was also being torn apart by heresy.
Possibly Henry would never have won his annulment had there not existed in England men
who desired a break with Rome, not because it was dynastically expedient but because they
regarded the pope as the ³whore of Babylon.´

The medieval church had become an anachronism out of touch with the 16th-century reality
of changing economic practices, governmental structure, and social values. More and more
God was French or German or English, and his representative in Rome was having ever
greater difficulty in speaking so many languages and in persuading his international flock that
he was the spiritual leader of all Christians and not simply a petty Italian potentate motivated
by family ambition and political aggrandizement. The church was also withering from within.
Historically it was a state within a state²an independent clerical body possessed of special
rights and privileges because of the fundamental division of man into body and soul. In the
eyes of many, however, the church's duties in matters spiritual had been superseded by
matters temporal. Absenteeism and pluralism were rife, and by 1520 in Oxfordshire alone 58
percent of the county's 192 parish priests were absentees. Bishops and high ecclesiastics were
meant to tend to the cure of souls, but in fact they were engrossed in worldly affairs. Wolsey
himself, as the greatest and richest clerical statesman, seemed to epitomize the worst aspects
of that worldliness and corruption. Men continued to go to church, but it was increasingly
difficult, especially for the landed gentleman and the wealthy merchant, to respect the old
church. A sure sign that zeal for the ancient structure was flagging was the economic decline
of the monasteries: in Norfolk, Yorkshire, and Buckinghamshire the capital wealth of the
religious foundations rose only 1.13 percent between 1480 and 1540, which was not enough
to offset normal depreciation, let alone keep up with inflation. More and more surplus wealth
was being directed into other than religious channels; in the 15th century the wool merchant
Thomas Paycocke of Coggeshall had used the proceeds of trade to found a chantry to sing
masses for his soul; a century later William Sanderson of London invested the profits of
fishmongering into two small ships to carry Captain John Davis over the top of the world in
search of the Northwest Passage to Cathay.

As the old church lived on in a fossilized condition, Christians looked elsewhere for inner
contentment, and all over Europe men like Martin Luther, the German monk in Saxony, and
Thomas Bilney, the Cambridge scholar in England, sought spiritual meaning and relief from
ritualism, worldliness, and religious apathy. Luther in his monastery and Bilney in his college
turned to the Bible, and each stumbled across the knowledge that even in the midst of despair
faith in God's mercy could save sinners. The new religious ideas flowed into England largely
in the form of Lutheran doctrines, but they found a receptive audience not only because there
were upper-class individuals who could find no spiritual satisfaction in the old religious
formulas and who were looking for exactly what Luther and Bilney had to offer but also
because there existed in England a religious subculture in the form of Lollardy. Its existence
had always been officially denied by the established church, but the ideas of John Wycliffe (d.
1384) had never been exterminated. They lived on just below the surface, and by the time of
the Reformation Lollardy was once again becoming respectable. Though Henry himself was
never a Protestant and even during the first 20 years of his reign was a zealous persecutor of
religious nonconformity, be it Lutheran or Lollard, he would never have been able to push
through the break with Rome simply on the basis of anticlericalism or apathy within the
existing church. If his headship of an independent English church was to live in ³the hearts of
his subjects´ and not ³post alone hidden in acts of parliament,´ he had to call upon the support
of the ³zely people´ (Protestant zealots), who viewed the political and constitutional steps by
which Henry's marriage to Anne Boleyn was legalized as being the prelude to a thorough
spiritual reformation.


+$,
*

With Wolsey and his papal authority gone, Henry turned to the authority of the state to obtain
his annulment, and the so-called Reformation Parliament that first met in November 1529 was
unprecedented²it lasted seven years, enacted 137 statutes (32 of which were of vital
importance), and legislated in areas that no feudal Parliament had ever dreamed of entering.
³King in Parliament´ became the revolutionary instrument by which the medieval church was
destroyed. The first step was to intimidate the church, and in 1531 Convocation was forced
under threat of praemunire (a statute prohibiting the operation of the legal and financial
jurisdiction of the pope without royal consent) to grant the sovereign a gift of £119,000 and to
acknowledge him supreme head of the church ³as far as the law of Christ allows.´ Then the
government struck at the papacy, threatening to cut off its revenues; the Annates Statute of
1532 empowered Henry, if he saw fit, to abolish payment to Rome of the first year's income
of all newly installed bishops. The implied threat had little effect on the pope; and time was
running out, for by December 1532 Anne Boleyn was pregnant, and on Jan. 25, 1533, she was
secretly married to Henry. If the king was to be saved from bigamy and his child born in
wedlock, he had less than eight months to get rid of Catherine of Aragon. Archbishop William
Warham conveniently died in August 1532, and in March 1533 a demoralized and frightened
pontiff sanctioned the installation of Thomas Cranmer as primate of the English church.
Cranmer was a friend of the annulment, but before he could oblige his sovereign, the queen's
right of appeal from the archbishop's court to Rome had to be destroyed; and this could be
done only by cutting the constitutional cords holding England to the papacy. Consequently, in
April 1533 the crucial statute was enacted; the Act of Restraint of Appeals boldly decreed that
³this realm of England is an empire.´ A month later an obliging archbishop heard the case and
adjudged the king's marriage to be null and void. On June 1 Anne was crowned rightful queen
of England, and three months and a week later, on Sept. 7, 1533, the royal child was born. To
³the great shame and confusion´ of astrologers, it turned out to be Elizabeth Tudor.

Henry was mortified; he had risked his soul and his crown for yet another girl. But Anne had
proved her fertility, and it was hoped that a male heir would shortly follow. In the meantime it
was necessary to complete the break with Rome and rebuild the Church of England. By the
Act of Succession of March 1534 subjects were ordered to accept the king's marriage to Anne
as ³undoubted, true, sincere and perfect.´ A second Annate's Statute severed most of the
financial ties with Rome, and in November the constitutional revolution was solemnized in
the Act of Supremacy, which announced that Henry Tudor was and always had been
³Supreme Head of the Church of England´; not even the qualifying phrase ³as far as the law
of Christ allows´ was retained.


   
*  
The medieval tenet that church and state were separate entities with divine law standing
higher than human law had been legislated out of existence; the new English church was in
effect a department of the Tudor state. The destruction of the Roman Catholic church led
inevitably to the dissolution of the monasteries. As monastic religious fervour and economic
resources began to dry up, it was easy enough for the government to build a case that
monasteries were centres of vice and corruption. In the end, however, what destroyed them
was neither apathy nor abuse but the fact that they were contradictions within a national
church, for religious foundations by definition were international, supranational organizations
that traditionally supported papal authority. Though they bowed to the royal supremacy, the
government continued to view them with suspicion, arguing that they had obeyed only out of
fear, and their destruction got underway early in 1536. In the name of fiscal reform and
efficiency, foundations with endowments of under £200 a year (nearly 400 of them) were
dissolved on the grounds that they were too small to do their job effectively. By late 1536
confiscation had become state policy, for the Pilgrimage of Grace, a Roman Catholic-inspired
uprising in the north, seemed to be clear evidence that all monasteries were potential nests of
traitors. By 1539 the foundations, both great and small, were gone, and property worth
possibly £2,000,000 was nationalized and incorporated into the crown lands, thereby almost
doubling the government's normal peacetime, nonparliamentary income. Had those estates
remained in the possession of the crown, English history might have been very different, for
the kings of England would have been able to rule without calling upon Parliament, and the
constitutional authority that evolved out of the crown's fiscal dependence on Parliament
would never have developed. For better or for worse, Henry and his descendants had to sell
the profits of the Reformation; and by 1603 three-fourths of the monastic loot had passed into
the hands of the landed gentry. The legend of a ³golden shower´ is false: monastic property
was never given away at bargain prices, nor was it consciously presented to the kingdom in
order to win the support of the ruling elite. Instead, most of the land was sold at its fair market
value to pay for Henry's wars and foreign policy. The effect, however, was crucial²the most
powerful elements within Tudor society now had a vested interest in protecting their property
against papal Catholicism.

The marriage to Anne, the break with Rome, and even the destruction of the monasteries went
through with surprisingly little opposition. It had been foreseen that the royal supremacy
might have to be enacted in blood, and the Act of Supremacy (March 1534) and the Act of
Treason (December) were designed to root out and liquidate the dissent. The former was a
loyalty test requiring subjects to take an oath swearing to accept not only the matrimonial
results of the break with Rome but also the principles on which it stood; the latter extended
the meaning of treason to include all those who did ³maliciously wish, will or desire, by
words or writing or by craft imagine´ the king's death or slander his marriage. Sir Thomas
More (who had succeeded Wolsey as lord chancellor), Bishop John Fisher (who almost alone
among the episcopate had defended Catherine during her trial), and a handful of monks
suffered death for their refusal to accept the concept of a national church. Even the Pilgrimage
of Grace of 1536±37 was a short-lived eruption. The uprisings in Lincolnshire in October and
in Yorkshire during the winter were without doubt religiously motivated, but they were also
as much feudal and social rebellions as revolts in support of Rome. Peasants, landed country
gentlemen, and feudal barons could unite in defense of the monasteries and the old religion,
and for a moment the rebels seemed on the verge of toppling the Tudor state. The nobility
were angered that they had been excluded from the king's government by men of inferior
social status, and they resented the encroachment of bureaucracy into the northern shires. The
gentry were concerned by rising taxes and the peasants by threatened enclosure; but the three
elements had little in common outside religion, and the uprisings fell apart from within. The
rebels were soon crushed and their leaders²including Robert Aske, one of the more pleasing
figures of the century²brutally executed. The Reformation came to England piecemeal,
which goes far to explain the government's success. Had the drift toward Protestantism, the
royal supremacy, and the destruction of the monasteries come as a single religious revolution,
it would have produced a violent reaction. As it was, the Roman Catholic opposition could
always argue that each step along the way to Reformation would be the last.

 %   

Henry was so securely seated upon his throne that the French ambassador announced that he
was more an idol to be worshiped than a king to be obeyed. The king successfully survived
four more matrimonial experiments, the enmity of every major power in Europe, and an
international war. On May 19, 1536, Anne Boleyn's career was terminated by the
executioner's ax. She had failed in her promise to produce further children to secure the
succession. The king's love had turned to hatred, but what sealed the queen's fate was the
death of her rival, Catherine of Aragon, on Jan. 8, 1536. From that moment it was clear that
should Henry again marry, whoever was his wife, the children she might bear would be
legitimate in the eyes of Roman Catholics and Protestants alike. How much policy, how much
revulsion for Anne, how much attraction for Jane Seymour played in the final tragedy is
beyond analysis, but 11 days after Anne's execution Henry married Jane. Sixteen months later
the future Edward VI was born. The mother died as a consequence, but the father finally had
what it had taken a revolution to achieve, a legitimate male heir.

Henry married thrice more, once for reasons of diplomacy, once for love, and once for peace
and quiet. Anne of Cleves, his fourth wife, was the product of Reformation international
politics. For a time in 1539 it looked as if Charles V and Francis would come to terms and
unite against the schismatic king of England, and the only allies Henry possessed were the
Lutheran princes of Germany. In something close to panic he was stampeded into marriage
with Anne of Cleves. But the following year, the moment the diplomatic scene changed, he
dropped both his wife and the man who had engineered the marriage, his vicar general in
matters spiritual, Thomas Cromwell. Anne was divorced July 12, Cromwell was executed
July 28, and Henry married Catherine Howard the same day. The second Catherine did not do
as well as her cousin, the first Anne; she lasted only 18 months. Catherine proved to be
neither a virgin before her wedding nor a particularly faithful damsel after her marriage. With
the execution of his fifth wife, Henry turned into a sick old man, and he took as his last spouse
Catherine Parr, who was as much a nursemaid as a wife. During those final years the king's
interests turned to international affairs. Henry's last war (1543±46) was fought not to defend
his church against resurgent European Catholicism but to renew a much older policy of
military conquest in France. Though he enlarged the English Pale at Calais by seizing the
small French port of Boulogne, the war had no lasting diplomatic or international effects
except to assure that the monastic lands would pass into the hands of the gentry.

By the time Henry died (Jan. 28, 1547) medievalism had nearly vanished. The crown stood at
the pinnacle of its power, able to demand and receive a degree of obedience from both great
and small that no feudal monarch had been able to achieve. The measure of that authority was
threefold: (1) the extent to which Henry had been able to thrust a very unpopular annulment
and supremacy legislation down the throat of Parliament; (2) his success in raising
unprecedented sums of money through taxation; and (3) his ability to establish a new church
on the ashes of the old. It is difficult to say whether these feats were the work of the king or
his chief minister, Thomas Cromwell. The will was probably Henry's, the parliamentary
means his minister's, but whoever was responsible, by 1547 England was a long way along
the road of Reformation. The crown had assumed the authority of the papacy without as yet
fundamentally changing the old creed, but the ancient structure was severely shaken.
Throughout England men were arguing that because the pontiff had been proved false, the
entire Roman Catholic creed was suspect; and the cry went up to ³get rid of the poison with
the author.´ It was not long before every aspect of Roman Catholicism was under attack²the
miracle of the mass whereby the bread and wine were converted into the body and blood of
Christ, the doctrine of purgatory, the efficacy of saints and images, the concept of an ordained
priesthood with miraculous powers, and the doctrine of the celibacy of the clergy. The time
had come for Parliament and the supreme head to decide what constituted the ³true´ faith for
Englishmen. Henry never worked out a consistent religious policy: the Ten Articles of 1536
and the V

V of the following year tended to be somewhat Lutheran in tone; the Six
Articles of 1539, or the Act for Abolishing Diversity of Opinion, and the 

V of 1543
were mildly Roman Catholic. Whatever the religious colouring, Henry's ecclesiastical  
  was based on obedience to an authoritarian old king and on subjects who were
expected to live ³soberly, justly and devoutly.´ Unfortunately for the religious, social, and
political peace of the kingdom, both these conditions disappeared the moment Henry died and
a nine-year-old boy sat upon the throne.

c,!-

Henry was legally succeeded by his son Edward VI, but power passed to his brother-in-
law, Edward Seymour, Earl of Hertford, who became duke of Somerset and lord protector
shortly after the new reign began. Seymour ruled in loco parentis; the divinity of the crown
resided in the boy king, but authority was exercised by an uncle who proved himself to be
more merciful than tactful, more idealistic than practical. Sweet reason and tolerance were
substituted for the old king's brutal laws. The treason and heresy acts were repealed or
modified, and the result came close to destroying the Tudor state. The moment idle tongues
could speak with impunity, the kingdom broke into a chorus of religious and social discord.
To stem religious dissent, the lord protector introduced the Prayer Book of 1549 and an act of
uniformity to enforce it. Written by Thomas Cranmer, the Prayer Book was a literary
masterpiece but a political flop, for it failed in its purpose. It sought to bring into a single
Protestant fold all varieties of middle-of-the-road religious beliefs by deliberately obscuring
the central issue of the exact nature of the mass²whether it was a miraculous sacrament or a
commemorative service. The Prayer Book succeeded only in antagonizing Protestants and
Roman Catholics alike.

Somerset was no more successful in solving the economic and social difficulties of the reign.
Rising prices, debasement of the currency, and the cost of war had produced an inflationary
crisis in which prices doubled between 1547 and 1549. A false prosperity ensued in which the
wool trade boomed, but so also did enclosures with all their explosive potential. The result
was social revolution. Whether Somerset deserved his title of ³the good duke´ is a matter of
opinion. Certainly the peasants thought that he favoured the element in the House of
Commons that was anxious to tax sheep raisers and to curb enclosures and that section of the
clergy that was lashing out at economic inequality. In the summer of 1549 the peasantry in
Cornwall and Devonshire revolted against the Prayer Book in the name of the good old
religious days under Henry VIII, and almost simultaneously the humble folk in Norfolk rose
up against the economic and social injustices of the century. At the same time that domestic
rebellion was stirring, the protector had to face a political and international crisis, and he
proved himself to be neither a farsighted statesman nor a shrewd politician. He embroiled the
country in war with Scotland that soon involved France and ended in an inconclusive defeat,
and he earned the enmity and disrespect of the members of his own council. In the eyes of the
ruling elite he was responsible for governmental ineptitude and social and religious
revolution. The result was inevitable: a palace revolution in October 1549 ensued in which
Seymour was arrested and deprived of office, and two and a half years later he was executed
on trumped-up charges of treason.

The protector's successor and the man largely responsible for his fall was John Dudley, Earl
of Warwick, who became duke of Northumberland. The duke was a man of action who
represented most of the acquisitive aspects of the landed elements in society and who allied
himself with the extreme section of the Protestant reformers. Under Northumberland, England
pulled out of Scotland and in 1550 returned Boulogne to France; social order was ruthlessly
reestablished in the countryside, the more conservative of the Henrician bishops were
imprisoned, the wealth of the church was systematically looted, and uncompromising
Protestantism was officially sanctioned. The Ordinal of 1550 transformed the divinely
ordained priest into a governmental appointee, the new Prayer Book of 1552 was avowedly
Protestant, altars were turned into tables, clerical vestments gave way to plain surplices, and
religious orthodoxy was enforced by a new and more stringent Act of Uniformity. How long a
kingdom still attached to the outward trappings of Roman Catholicism would have tolerated
doctrinal radicalism and the plundering of chantry lands and episcopal revenues under
Somerset and Northumberland is difficult to say, but in 1553 the ground upon which
Northumberland had built his power crumbled: Edward was dying of consumption. To save
the kingdom from Roman Catholicism and himself from Roman Catholic Mary, who was
Edward's legal heir, Northumberland, with the support, perhaps even the encouragement, of
the dying king, tried his hand at kingmaking. Together they devised a new order of succession
in which Mary was declared illegitimate and the crown passed to Lady Jane Grey, the
granddaughter of Henry VIII's sister (Mary, Duchess of Suffolk), and incidentally
Northumberland's daughter-in-law. The gamble failed, for when Edward died on July 6, 1553,
the kingdom rallied to the daughter of Catherine of Aragon. Whatever their religious
inclinations, Englishmen preferred a Tudor on the throne. In nine days the interlude was over,
and Northumberland and his daughter-in-law were in the Tower of London.

(-

The new Roman Catholic queen had many fine qualities, and contemporaries
announced that she was ³a prince of heart and courage more than commonly is in
womanhood´; but she was hopelessly outdated. She envisioned the return of a Roman
Catholic church that had long since ceased to exist anywhere in Europe. The worldly and
pliable church of pre-Reformation days had been destroyed by the fire of religious war and
extremism, and both Catholic and Protestant now denied the tolerant humanistic principle that
³men who live according to equity and justice shall be saved´ no matter what their creed. For
Mary it was a sacred obligation to return England to the Roman Catholic fold, and it was
almost as great a duty to marry Philip of Spain, her Habsburg cousin and the son of Charles
V, the man who had defended her mother's marital rights. She married Philip on July 25,
1554, and six months later, after the landed elements had been assured that their monastic
property would not be taken from them, Parliament repealed the Act of Supremacy, reinstated
the heresy laws, and petitioned for reunion with Rome. In the end both achievements proved
sterile. Her marriage was without love or children, and, by associating Roman Catholicism in
the popular mind with Spanish arrogance, it triggered a rebellion that almost overthrew the
Tudor throne. In January 1554, under the leadership of Sir Thomas Wyat, the peasants of
Kent rose up against the queen's Roman Catholic and Spanish policies, and 3,000 men
marched on London. The rebellion was crushed, but it revealed to Mary and her chief
minister, Reginald Cardinal Pole, that the kingdom was filled with disloyal hearts who placed
Protestantism and nationalism higher than their obedience to the throne.

The tragedy of Mary's reign was the belief not only that the old church of her mother's day
could be restored but also that it could be best served by fire and blood. Some 300 men and
women were martyred in the Smithfield Fires during the last three years of her reign;
compared to events on the Continent, the numbers were not large, but the emotional impact
was great. Among the first half-dozen martyrs were the Protestant leaders Cranmer, Ridley,
Latimer, and Hooper, who were burned to strike terror into the hearts of lesser men. Their
deaths, however, had the opposite effect; their bravery encouraged others to withstand the
flames, and the Smithfield Fires continued to burn because nobody could think of what to do
with heretics except to put them to death. The law required it, the prisons were overflowing,
and the martyrs themselves offered the government no way out except to enforce the grisly
laws.

Mary's reign was a study in failure. Her husband, who was 10 years her junior, remained in
England as little as possible; the war between France and the Habsburg Empire, into which
her Spanish marriage had dragged the kingdom, was a disaster and resulted in the loss of
England's last continental outpost, Calais; her subjects learned to call her ³bloody,´ and
Englishmen greeted the news of her death and the succession of her sister Elizabeth on Nov.
17, 1558, with ringing bells and bonfires.

c.+
/-

No one in 1558, any more than in 1485, would have predicted that despite the social
discord, political floundering, and international humiliation of the past decade, the kingdom
again stood on the threshold of an extraordinary reign. To make matters worse the new
monarch was the wrong sex. Englishmen knew that it was unholy and unnatural that ³a
woman should reign and have empire above men.´ At 25, however, Elizabeth was better
prepared than most women to have empire over men. She had survived the palace revolutions
of her brother's reign and the Roman Catholicism of her sister's; she was the product of a fine
Renaissance education, and she had learned the need for strong secular leadership devoid of
religious bigotry. Moreover, she possessed her father's magnetism without his egotism or
ruthlessness. She was also her mother's daughter, and the offspring of Anne Boleyn had no
choice but to reestablish the royal supremacy and once again sever the ties with Rome.
Elizabeth's religious settlement was constructed on the doctrine of adiaphora, the belief that,
except for a few fundamentals, there existed in religion a wide area of ³things indifferent´ that
could be decided by the government on the basis of expediency. Conservative opposition was
blunted by entitling the queen ³supreme governor,´ not ³head,´ of the church and by
amending the Edwardian Prayer Book of 1552 to make it somewhat more acceptable to
Roman Catholics. At the same time many of the old papal trappings of the church were
retained. Protestant radicals went along with this compromise in the expectation that the
principle of ³things indifferent´ meant that Elizabeth would, when the political dust had
settled, rid her church of the ³livery of Antichrist´ and discard its ³papal rags.´ In this they
were badly mistaken, for the queen was determined to keep her religious settlement exactly as
it had been negotiated in 1559. As it turned out, Roman Catholics proved to be better losers
than Protestants: of the 900 parish clergy only 189 refused to accept Elizabeth as supreme
governor, but the Protestant radicals²the future Puritans²were soon at loggerheads with
their new sovereign.



0  

The religious settlement was part of a larger social arrangement that was authoritarian to its
core. Elizabeth was determined to be queen in fact as well as in name. She tamed the House
of Commons with tact combined with firmness, and she carried on a love affair with her
kingdom in which womanhood, instead of being a disadvantage, became her greatest asset.
The men she appointed to help her run and stage-manage the government were   
like
herself: William Cecil (later Lord Burghley), her principal secretary and in 1572 her lord
treasurer; Matthew Parker, her archbishop of Canterbury; and a small group of other moderate
and secular men.

In setting her house in order, the queen followed the hierarchical assumptions of her day. All
creation was presumed to be a great chain of being, running from the tiniest insect to the
godhead itself, and the universe was seen as an organic whole in which each part played a
divinely prescribed role. In politics every element was expected to obey ³one head, one
governor, one law´ in exactly the same way as all parts of the human body obeyed the brain.
The crown was divine and gave leadership, but it did not exist alone, nor could it claim a
monopoly of divinity, for all parts of the body politic had been created by God. The organ that
spoke for the entire kingdom was not the king alone, but ³King in Parliament,´ and, when
Elizabeth sat in the midst of her Lords and Commons, it was said that ³every Englishman is
intended to be there present from the prince to the lowest person in England.´ The Tudors
needed no standing army in ³the French fashion´ because God's will and the monarch's
decrees were enshrined in acts of Parliament, and this was society's greatest defense against
rebellion. The controlling mind within this mystical union of crown and Parliament belonged
to the queen. The Privy Council, acting as the spokesman of royalty, planned and initiated all
legislation, and Parliament was expected to turn that legislation into law. Inside and outside
Parliament the goal of Tudor government was benevolent paternalism in which the strong
hand of authoritarianism was masked by the careful shaping of public opinion, the artistry of
pomp and ceremony, and the deliberate effort to tie the ruling elite to the crown by catering to
the financial and social aspirations of the landed country gentleman. Every aspect of
government was intimate because it was small and rested on the support of probably no more
than 5,000 key persons. The bureaucracy consisted of a handful of privy councillors at the top
and at the bottom possibly 500 paid civil servants²the 15 members of the secretariat, the 265
clerks and custom officials of the treasury, a staff of 50 in the judiciary, and approximately
150 more scattered in other departments. Tudor government was not predominantly
professional. Most of the work was done by unpaid amateurs: the sheriffs of the shires, the
lord lieutenants of the counties, and above all the Tudor maids of all work²the 1,500 or so
justices of the peace.

Smallness did not mean lack of government, for the 16th-century state was conceived of as an
organic totality in which the possession of land carried with it duties of leadership and service
to the throne, and the inferior part of society was obligated to accept the decisions of its elders
and betters. The Tudors were essentially medieval in their economic and social philosophy.
The aim of government was to curb competition and regulate life so as to attain an ordered
and stable society in which all could share according to status. The Statute of Apprentices of
1563 embodied this concept, for it assumed the moral obligation of all men to work, the
existence of divinely ordered social distinctions, and the need for the state to define and
control all occupations in terms of their utility to society. The same assumption operated in
the famous Elizabethan Poor Law of 1601²the need to assure a minimum standard of living
to all men within an organic and noncompetitive society. By 1600 poverty, unemployment,
and vagrancy had become too widespread for the church to handle, and the state had to take
over, instructing each parish to levy taxes to pay for poor relief and to provide work for the
able-bodied, punishment for the indolent, and charity for the sick, the aged, and the disabled.
The Tudor social ideal was to achieve a static class structure by guaranteeing a fixed labour
supply, restricting social mobility, curbing economic freedom, and creating a kingdom in
which subjects could fulfill their ultimate purpose in life²spiritual salvation, not material
well-being.

c.+
   

Social reality, at least for the poor and powerless, was probably a far cry from the ideal, but
for a few years Elizabethan England seemed to possess an extraordinary internal balance and
external dynamism. In part the queen herself was responsible. She demanded no windows into
men's souls, and she charmed both great and small with her artistry and tact. In part, however,
the Elizabethan Age was a success because men had at their disposal new and exciting areas,
both of mind and geography, into which to channel their energies. A revolution in reading and
writing was taking place, and by 1640 nearly 100 percent of the gentry and merchant elements
were literate. Wealth and literacy were directly related. Possibly 50 percent of the yeomanry
but only 10 percent of the husbandry and none of the peasantry were able to read or write.
Although literacy among townspeople was higher, the proportions relative to wealth still held
true. The years between 1560 and 1650 were an age of school-building and educational
endowment; by then 142 new schools had been founded and £293,000 given to grammar
(secondary) school education. Oxford and Cambridge also reflected the new literacy,
increasing from 800 students in 1560 to 1,200 in 1630. The aim of Tudor education was less
to teach the ³three Rs´ than to establish mind control: to drill children ³in the knowledge of
their duty toward God, their prince and all other[s] in their degree.´ A knowledge of Latin and
a smattering of Greek became, even more than elegant clothing, the mark of the social elite.
The educated Englishman was no longer a cleric but a J.P. or M.P. (justice of the peace or
member of Parliament), a merchant or a landed gentleman who for the first time was able to
express his economic, political, and religious dreams and grievances in terms of abstract
principles that were capable of galvanizing people into religious and political parties. Without
literacy the spiritual impact of the Puritans or, later, the formation of parties based on
ideologies that engulfed the kingdom in civil war would have been impossible. So also would
have been the cultural explosion that produced Shakespeare, Marlowe, Spenser, Bacon, and
Donne.

Poets, scholars, and playwrights dreamed and put pen to paper. Adventurers responded
differently; they went ³a-voyaging.´ From a kingdom that had once been known for its
³sluggish security,´ Englishmen suddenly turned to the sea and the world that was opening up
around them. The first hesitant steps had been taken under Henry VII when John Cabot in
1497 sailed in search of a Northwest Passage to China and as a consequence discovered Cape
Breton Island. The search for Cathay became an economic necessity in 1550 when the wool
trade collapsed and merchants had to find new markets for their cloth. In response, the
Muscovy Company was established to trade with Russia, and by 1588, 100 vessels a year
were visiting the Baltic. Martin Frobisher during the 1570s made a series of voyages to
northern Canada in the hope of finding gold and a shortcut to the Orient; John Hawkins
encroached upon Spanish and Portuguese preserves and sailed in 1562 for Africa in quest of
slaves to sell to West Indian plantation owners; and Sir Francis Drake circumnavigated the
globe (Dec. 13, 1577±Sept. 26, 1580) in search not only of the riches of the East Indies but
also of Terra Australis, the great southern continent. Suddenly Englishmen were on the move:
Sir Humphrey Gilbert and his band of settlers set forth for Newfoundland (1583); Sir Walter
Raleigh organized the equally ill-fated ³lost colony´ at Roanoke (1587±91); John Davis in his
two small ships, the m
  and the 
 , reached 72° north, the farthest north any
Englishman had ever been (1585±87); and the honourable East India Company was founded
to organize the silk and spice trade with the Orient on a permanent basis. The outpouring was
inspired not only by the urge for riches but also by religion²the desire to labour in the Lord's
vineyard and to found in the wilderness a new and better nation. As it was said, Englishmen
went forth ³to seek new worlds for gold, for praise, for glory.´ Even the dangers of the
reign²the precariousness of Elizabeth's throne and the struggle with Roman Catholic
Spain²somehow contrived to generate a self-confidence that had been lacking under ³the
little Tudors.´

(12 3 

The first decade of Elizabeth's reign was relatively quiet, but after 1568 three interrelated
matters set the stage for the crisis of the century: the queen's refusal to marry, the various
plots to replace her with Mary of Scotland, and the religious and economic clash with Spain.
Elizabeth Tudor's virginity was the cause of great international discussion, for every bachelor
prince of Europe hoped to win a throne through marriage with Gloriana, and the source of
even greater domestic concern, for everyone except the queen herself was convinced that
Elizabeth should marry and produce heirs. The issue was the cause of her first major
confrontation with the House of Commons, which was informed that royal matrimony was
not a subject for commoners to discuss. Elizabeth preferred maidenhood²it was politically
safer and her most useful diplomatic weapon²but it gave poignancy to the intrigues of her
cousin Mary, Queen of Scots. Mary had been an unwanted visitor-prisoner in England ever
since 1568, after she had been forced to abdicate her Scottish throne in favour of her 13-
month-old son, James VI. She was Henry VIII's grandniece and, in the eyes of many Roman
Catholics and a number of political malcontents, the rightful ruler of England, for Mary of
Scotland was a Roman Catholic. As the religious hysteria mounted, there was steady pressure
put on Elizabeth to rid England of this dangerous threat, but the queen delayed a final decision
for almost 19 years. In the end, however, she had little choice. Jesuit priests were entering the
kingdom to harden the hearts of the queen's subjects against her, forcing the government to
introduce harsher and harsher recusancy laws (the fine for failure to attend Anglican service
on Sundays was raised from one shilling a week to £20 a month). Puritans were thundering
for even stiffer penalties, and Mary played into the hands of her religious and political
enemies by involving herself in a series of schemes to unseat her cousin. One plot helped to
trigger the rebellion of the northern earls in 1569. Another, the Ridolfi plot of 1571, called for
an invasion by Spanish troops stationed in the Netherlands and resulted in the execution in
1572 of the Duke of Norfolk, the ranking peer of the realm. Yet another, the Babington plot of
1586, was in fact a carefully arranged government trap to gain sufficient evidence to have
Mary tried and executed for high treason.



,
3 

Mary was executed on Feb. 8, 1587; by then England had moved from cold war to open war
against Spain. Philip II was the colossus of Europe and leader of resurgent Roman
Catholicism. His kingdom was strong; Spanish troops were the best in Europe, Spain itself
had been carved out of territory held by the infidel and still retained its crusading zeal, and the
wealth of the New World poured into the treasury at Madrid. Spanish preeminence was
directly related to the weakness of France, which ever since the accidental death of Henry II
in 1559 had been torn by factional strife and civil and religious war. In response to this
diplomatic and military imbalance, English foreign policy underwent a fundamental change.
By the Treaty of Blois in 1572 England gave up its historic enmity with France, accepting by
implication that Spain was the greater danger. It is difficult to say at what point a showdown
between Elizabeth and her former brother-in-law became unavoidable²there were so many
areas of disagreement²but the two chief points were the refusal of English merchants-cum-
buccaneers to recognize Philip's claims to a monopoly of trade wherever the Spanish flag flew
throughout the world and the military and financial support given by the English to Philip's
rebellious and heretical subjects in the Netherlands.

The most blatant act of English poaching in Spanish imperial waters was Drake's
circumnavigation of the Earth, during which Spanish shipping was looted, Spanish claims to
California ignored, and Spanish world dominion proven to be a paper empire. But the
encounter that really poisoned Anglo-Iberian relations was the Battle of San Juan de Ulúa in
September 1568 where a small fleet captained by John Hawkins and Francis Drake was
ambushed and almost annihilated through Spanish perfidy. Only Hawkins in the m  and
Drake in the   escaped. The English cried foul treachery, the Spanish dismissed the
action as sensible tactics when dealing with pirates. Drake and Hawkins never forgot or
forgave, and it was Hawkins who, as treasurer of the navy, began to build the revolutionary
ships that destroyed the old-fashioned galleons of the Spanish Armada.

If the English never forgave Philip's treachery at San Juan de Ulúa, the Spanish never forgot
Elizabeth's interference in the Netherlands, where Dutch Protestants were in full revolt. At
first, aid had been limited to money and the harbouring of Dutch ships in English ports; but
after the assassination of the Protestant leader, William of Orange, in 1584, the position of the
rebels became so desperate that Elizabeth in August 1585 sent over an army of 6,000 under
the command of the Earl of Leicester. Reluctantly, Philip decided on war against England as
the only way of exterminating heresy and disciplining his subjects in the Netherlands.
Methodically, he began to build a fleet of 130 vessels, 31,000 men, and 2,431 cannons to hold
naval supremacy in the Channel long enough for the Duke of Parma's army, stationed at
Dunkirk, to cross over to England. Nothing Elizabeth could do seemed to be able to stop the
Armada Catholica. She sent Drake to Spain in April 1587 in a spectacular strike at that
portion of the fleet forming at Cádiz, but it succeeded only in delaying the sailing date. That
delay, however, was important, for Philip's Admiral of the Ocean Seas, the veteran Marquess
de Santa Cruz, died, and the job of sailing the Armada was given to the Duke de Medina-
Sidonia, who was invariably seasick and confessed that he knew more about gardening than
war. What ensued was not the new commander's fault. He did the best he could in an
impossible situation, for Philip's Armada was invincible in name only. It was technologically
and numerically outclassed by an English fleet of close to 200. Worse, its strategic purpose
was grounded on a fallacy: that Parma's troops could be conveyed to England. The Spanish
controlled no deepwater port in the Netherlands in which the Armada's great galleons and
Parma's light troop-carrying barges could rendezvous. Even the deity seemed to be more
English than Spanish, and in the end the fleet, buffeted by gales, was dashed to pieces as it
sought to escape home via the northern route around Scotland and Ireland. Of the 130 ships
that left Spain, perhaps 85 crept home; 10 had been captured, sunk, or driven aground by
English guns, 23 were sacrificed to wind and storm, and 12 others were ³lost, fate unknown.´

     

When the Armada died during the first weeks of August 1588, the crisis of Elizabeth's reign
was reached and successfully passed. The last years were an anticlimax, for the moment the
international danger was surmounted, domestic strife ensued. There were moments of great
heroism and success²as when Essex, Raleigh, and Howard made a second descent on Cádiz
in 1596, seized the city, and burned the entire West Indian treasure fleet²but the war so
gloriously begun deteriorated into a costly campaign in the Netherlands and France and an
endless guerrilla action in Ireland, where Philip discovered he could do to Elizabeth what she
had been doing to him in the Low Countries. Even on the high seas the days of fabulous
victories were over, for the king of Spain soon learned to defend his empire and his treasure
fleets. Both Drake and Hawkins died in 1596 on the same ill-conceived expedition into
Spanish Caribbean waters²symbolic proof that the good old days of buccaneering were gone
forever. At home the cost of almost two decades of war (£4 million) raised havoc with the
queen's finances. It forced her to sell her capital (about £800,000, or roughly one-fourth of all
crown lands) and increased her dependence upon parliamentary sources of income, which
rose from an annual average of £35,000 to over £112,000 a year.

Elizabeth's financial difficulties were a symptom of a mounting political crisis that under her
successors would destroy the entire Tudor system of government. The 1590s were years of
depression²bad harvests, soaring prices, peasant unrest, high taxes, and increasing
parliamentary criticism of the queen's economic policies and political leadership.
Imperceptibly, the House of Commons was becoming the instrument through which the will
of the landed classes could be heard and not an obliging organ of royal control. In Tudor
political theory this was a distortion of the proper function of Parliament, which was meant to
beseech and petition, never to command or initiate. Three things, however, forced theory to
make way for reality. First was the government's financial dependence on the Commons, for
the organ that paid the royal piper eventually demanded that it also call the governmental
tune. Second, under the Tudors, Parliament had been summoned so often and forced to
legislate on such crucial matters of church and state²legitimizing and bastardizing monarchs,
breaking with Rome, proclaiming the supreme headship (governorship under Elizabeth),
establishing the royal succession, and legislating in areas that no Parliament had ever dared
enter before²that the Commons got into the habit of being consulted. Inevitably a different
constitutional question emerged: if Parliament is asked to give authority to the crown, can it
also take away that authority? Finally, there was the growth of a vocal, politically conscious,
and economically dominant gentry; and the increase in the size of the House of Commons
reflected the activity and importance of that class. In Henry VIII's first Parliament there were
74 knights who sat for 37 shires, and 224 burgesses who represented the chartered boroughs
of the kingdom. By the end of Elizabeth's reign, borough representation had been increased by
135 seats. The Commons was replacing the Lords in importance because the social element it
represented had become economically and politically more important than the nobility.
Should the crown's leadership falter, there existed by the end of the century an organization
that was quite capable of seizing the political initiative, for as one disgruntled contemporary
noted: ³the foot taketh upon him the part of the head and commons is become a king.´
Elizabeth had sense enough to avoid a showdown with the Commons, and she retreated under
parliamentary attack on the issue of her prerogative rights to grant monopolies regulating and
licensing the economic life of the kingdom, but on the subject of her religious settlement she
refused to budge.

By the last decade of the reign Puritanism was on the increase. During the 1570s and '80s
³cells´ had sprung up to spread God's word and rejuvenate the land, and Puritan strength was
centred in exactly that segment of society that had the economic and social means to control
the realm²the gentry and merchant classes. What set a Puritan off from other Protestants was
the literalness with which he held to his creed, the discipline with which he watched his soul's
health, the militancy of his faith, and the sense that he was somehow apart from the rest of
corrupt humanity. This disciplined spiritual elite clashed with the queen over the purification
of the church and the stamping out of the last vestiges of Roman Catholicism. The
controversy went to the root of society: was the purpose of life spiritual or political, was the
role of the church to serve God or the crown? In 1576 two brothers, Paul and Peter
Wentworth, led the Puritan attack in the Commons, criticizing the queen for her refusal to
allow Parliament to debate religious issues. The crisis came to a head in 1586, when Puritans
called for legislation to abolish the episcopacy and the Anglican Prayer Book. Elizabeth
ordered the bills to be withdrawn, and when Peter Wentworth raised the issue of freedom of
speech in the Commons, she answered by clapping him in the Tower of London. There was
emerging in England a group of religious idealists who derived their spiritual authority from a
source that stood higher than the crown and who thereby violated the concept of the organic
society and endangered the very existence of the Tudor paternalistic monarchy. As early as
1573 the threat had been recognized:

At the beginning it was but a cap, a surplice, and a tippet [over which Puritans complained];
now, it is grown to bishops, archbishops, and cathedral churches, to the overthrow of the
established order, and to the Queen's authority in causes ecclesiastical.

James I later reduced the problem to one of his usual bons mots²³no bishop, no king.´
Elizabeth's answer was less catchy but more effective; she appointed as archbishop John
Whitgift, who was determined to destroy Puritanism as a politically organized sect. Whitgift
was only partially successful, but the queen was correct: the moment the international crisis
was over and a premium was no longer placed on loyalty, Puritans were potential security
risks.

The final years of Gloriana's life were difficult both for the theory of Tudor kingship and for
Elizabeth herself. She began to lose hold over the imaginations of her subjects, and she faced
the only palace revolution of her reign when her favourite, Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex,
sought to touch her crown. There was still fight in the old queen, and Essex ended on the
scaffold in 1601, but his angry demand could not be ignored:

What! Cannot princes err? Cannot subjects receive wrong? Is an earthly power or authority
infinite? Pardon me, pardon me, my good Lord, I can never subscribe to these principles.

When the queen died on March 24, 1603, it was as if the critics of her style of rule and her
concept of government had been waiting patiently for her to step down. It was almost with
relief that men looked forward to the problems of a new dynasty and a new century, as well as
to a man, not a woman, upon the throne.

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Y

# 
*  , series of dynastic civil wars in England fought by the
rival houses of Lancaster and York between 1455 and 1485 (
Lancaster, House of; York,
House of). The struggle was so named because the badge of the house of Lancaster was a red
rose and that of the house of York a white rose. The initial opponents were the Lancastrian
king of England Henry VI, aided by his queen, Margaret of Anjou, and Richard Plantagenet,
3rd duke of York. Because of the insanity of the king and military losses in France during the
last phase of the Hundred Years' War, the authority of the house of Lancaster was badly
shaken. York asserted his claim to the throne in 1460, after having defeated the Lancastrian
armies at St. Albans in 1455 and at Northampton in 1460. In the latter year York was defeated
and killed at Wakefield. In 1461, however, his son was proclaimed king as Edward IV and
shortly thereafter he decisively defeated Henry and Margaret, who then fled from England. In
1465 Henry was captured and imprisoned in the Tower of London.

The war was revived because of division within the Yorkist faction. Richard Neville, earl of
Warwick, aided by George Plantagenet, duke of Clarence, younger brother of Edward, made
an alliance with Margaret and led an invasion from France in 1470. Edward was driven into
exile and Henry restored to the throne. In 1471, however, Edward returned and, aided by
Clarence, defeated and killed Warwick at the Battle of Barnet. Shortly thereafter, the
Lancastrians were totally defeated at the Battle of Tewkesbury, and Henry was murdered in
the Tower.

After the death of Edward in 1483, his brother Richard usurped the throne, becoming king as
Richard III, and the Lancastrians turned for leadership to Henry Tudor, earl of Richmond,
who later became King Henry VII, founder of the Tudor dynasty. In 1485 the forces of
Richard and Henry fought the decisive Battle of Bosworth Field, the last major encounter of
the war. After Richard's death in battle, Henry ascended the throne and married Edward's
daughter, thus uniting the houses. The chief result of the war was an increase in the power of
the Crown. Battle and execution all but destroyed the old nobility, and the financial resources
of the monarchy were strengthened by the confiscation of estates.

(  4c  4567-85(  "  69