A Messenger at Hatfield
On 17 November 1558 a rider galloped into the royal residence at Hatfield, about fifty-seven kilometers north of London according to the book, and told Elizabeth Tudor that she was now Queen of England. Her half-sister, Queen Mary, who had not left a happy reputation, had died early that morning. In London the members of Parliament cried out, "God save Queen Elizabeth, long may she reign!", never imagining that her reign would in fact last forty-five years. The churches rang their bells even though they sensed danger ahead, and the people, as at Mary's own accession, filled the streets with celebration and lit great bonfires that colored the evening sky.
By Saturday 19 November nobles, ladies and commoners had gathered at Hatfield to swear loyalty and, not incidentally, to secure their own futures. The next day Elizabeth addressed them already in the manner of a queen. She said that nature made her grieve for her sister and that the burden laid on her left her amazed, yet as a creature of God she submitted to His will and hoped to be an instrument of it. She was only one person, she added, but she ruled a nation by His command, and she asked her lords to be her helpers so that she by ruling and they by serving might please God and leave some peace to their descendants.
On 28 November, dressed in purple velvet, she rode through London with a great train toward the Tower, where four years earlier she had been held prisoner and had waited for death. Crowds cheered, choirs sang her praises, trembling children recited short speeches they had memorized in her honor, and the cannon fire was such, a witness said, as had never been heard before. It was the opening of a reign that would nurture great men and great ideas on a scale England had never known.
Twenty-Five Years of Hardship
Elizabeth had become a master of survival through twenty-five years of trouble. In 1533, the year of her birth, she seemed fortunate as the daughter of Henry VIII, yet endangered as the daughter of Anne Boleyn. Her mother fell from favor and was executed in 1536, when Elizabeth was too young to remember it, but the sad inheritance followed her well past her youth and eased only after she was crowned. That same year Parliament declared Anne's marriage invalid and Elizabeth therefore illegitimate. There were even rumors about her paternity, and most of England regarded her as a bastard. Her legitimacy was never restored by law, though an act of 1544 allowed her to succeed after Edward and Mary, her half-brother and half-sister.
Under Edward she became a Protestant; when Mary brought back Catholicism, Elizabeth, preferring survival to consistency, accepted the old faith. After Wyatt's rebellion against Mary failed, Elizabeth was suspected of complicity and sent to the Tower. Mary eventually judged her innocent and released her on condition that she remain under watch at Woodstock. Shortly before her death Mary named Elizabeth her successor and sent her the crown jewels, so that Elizabeth's throne was, in a sense, the gift of the "Bloody" queen.
An Education and an Insecure Crown
Her formal education was demanding. Roger Ascham, her famous tutor, claimed that she spoke French and Italian as well as English and had often talked with him in Latin and, moderately, in Greek. She studied a little theology every day and became well versed in Protestant doctrine, but her Italian teachers seem to have passed on some of the skepticism they had drawn from Pomponazzi, Machiavelli and the Rome of the Renaissance.
Elizabeth never felt fully secure on her throne. In 1553 Parliament had again confirmed that her mother's marriage was void, and both state and church considered her illegitimate. English law, conveniently forgetting William the Conqueror, barred bastards from the crown. All Catholic countries, and much of still largely Catholic England, held that Mary Stuart, a descendant of Henry VII, was the true heir. Elizabeth was told that if she made peace with the Church the pope would clear her of illegitimacy and recognize her title, but she was unwilling. Thousands of Englishmen held property that Parliament had taken from the Church under Henry VIII and Edward VI; fearing they would have to return it under a Catholic restoration, these powerful owners were ready to fight for a Protestant queen, while English Catholics preferred her rule to civil war. On 15 January 1559, amid the cheers of Protestant London, she was crowned in Westminster Abbey as "Queen of England, France and Ireland, Defender of the Faith," since English kings had claimed the French crown since Edward III.
A Kingdom in Disarray
She was then twenty-five and in full maturity: fairly tall, handsome in figure, with an attractive face, olive complexion, piercing eyes, fair hair, and hands she took great care to display. It seemed impossible that such a young woman could master the chaos around her.
Rival faiths divided the nation, each armed and seeking power. Poverty was everywhere, and vagrancy persisted despite the harsh laws of Henry VIII. Debased coinage had crippled domestic trade; half a century of currency fraud had so damaged the Treasury's credit that, as the book notes, the government had to pay fourteen percent interest on its loans. Mary Tudor, absorbed in religion, had neglected defense: fortresses were abandoned, coasts unguarded, the navy weak, soldiers unpaid and underfed. England, which under Wolsey had held the balance of power in Europe, had become a plaything of Spain and France. French troops stood in Scotland, and the Irish were inviting the Spaniards onto their soil.
The pope threatened to excommunicate and depose her and to rouse the Catholic powers against her. Invasion seemed a real prospect in 1559, and the fear of assassination became part of her daily life. She escaped these dangers through her own courage, the insight of her advisers and the disunity of her enemies. The Spanish ambassador marveled at her spirit and wrote that the devil possessed her and was drawing her to his own house. Europe had not expected so cheerful a young woman to have the temper of an emperor.
Choosing William Cecil
Her judgment of men showed itself at once. Like her battle-hardened father, and despite her conciliatory words at Hatfield, she chose advisers without great titles, for most of the old nobility were Catholic and some thought themselves worthier of the crown than she. As her secretary and chief counselor she chose William Cecil, whose prudence, precision and persistence served her so well that those who did not know Elizabeth took Cecil for the real king. His grandfather had risen from the minor gentry to local prominence, and his father had served as keeper of Henry VIII's wardrobe; the family estates came largely from his mother's dowry.
Cecil left Cambridge without a degree, studied law at Gray's Inn, spent a short time in idle pleasure in London, and entered the House of Commons at twenty-three in 1543. His second wife, Mildred Cooke, a zealous Puritan, drew him firmly to Protestantism. He served the Protector Somerset, then joined the circle of Somerset's enemy Northumberland, and later backed Lady Jane Grey as Edward VI's successor, before changing sides in time to support Mary Tudor. At her wish he returned to Catholicism and was even sent to welcome Cardinal Pole to England. He was a practical man who never let changes of religion upset his political balance.
When Elizabeth appointed him, she told him in her shrewd way that she made him a member of her council to labor for her and the realm, that she judged he could not be corrupted by any gift and would be faithful to the state, and that he should give her the counsel he thought best regardless of her private wishes. If anything had to be told to her in secret, he should tell her himself, and she would keep it secret. It was the beginning of one of the most durable partnerships in the history of government.