Burghley, Pillar of the Reign
The best proof of William Cecil's loyalty and ability is that Elizabeth kept him for fourteen years as secretary and then for twenty-six more, until his death, as Lord Treasurer. He presided over the council, directed foreign affairs, managed finance and defense, and helped the queen settle Protestantism firmly in England. Like Richelieu later, he believed that the safety of his country against ambitious nobles, greedy merchants and fratricidal sects depended on the unifying authority of a strong ruler. His methods were cunning but seldom cruel, though he could be ruthless with opponents; once he thought of having the Earl of Westmorland killed, a rash idea that seems to have tempted him only once in half a century of patience and personal honesty. He placed spies on everything and everyone, and constant vigilance was itself a sign of power.
In business he was shrewd and frugal. Elizabeth did not blame him for growing rich, for she valued his judgment, and she was pleased that his thrift helped accumulate the means to defeat the Spanish Armada, the supposedly invincible fleet destroyed by the English in 1588. Without Cecil she might have been misled by extravagant favorites such as Leicester, Hatton and Essex. The Spanish ambassador reported that Cecil's genius surpassed that of all the other councillors and that he was envied and hated for it. At times the queen listened to his enemies and treated him so harshly that he left her presence heartbroken and in tears, but when her temper cooled she counted him among the firmest pillars of her throne. In 1571 she made him Lord Burghley, head of the new nobility that defended her crown against the old aristocracy and helped make England a great power.
A Circle of Able and Underpaid Servants
His lesser colleagues deserve a brief word, for they served her with skill and courage until death, and on inadequate pay. Sir Nicholas Bacon, father of Francis Bacon, was Lord Keeper of the Great Seal from the start of the reign until his death in 1579. Sir Francis Knollys sat on the council from 1558 and was treasurer of the royal household until he died in 1596. Sir Nicholas Throckmorton was her distinguished ambassador in France, and Thomas Randolph represented her in Scotland, Russia and Germany.
Next to Cecil in devotion and vigilance stood Sir Francis Walsingham, Secretary of State from 1573 until his death in 1590. Spenser called this sharp critic the great Maecenas of his age, after the Roman statesman who patronized Horace and Virgil. Angered by repeated plots against the queen's life, Walsingham spread a net of agents from Edinburgh to Constantinople to protect her, and it was in this net that Mary Stuart, the unhappy Queen of Scots, was finally caught. Rarely has a ruler had servants so capable, so loyal and so poorly paid.
A Thrifty Crown
The reason was that the English government itself had little money, and some private fortunes exceeded the state's reserves. According to the book, royal revenue in 1600 came to about 500,000 pounds. Elizabeth rarely agreed to new taxes and drew only some 36,000 pounds from customs. She relied mainly on income from crown lands, on grants from the Church of England, and on "loans" from the wealthy that were practically compulsory but were scrupulously repaid. She paid off the debts left by her father, brother and sister and became so known for honoring her obligations that she could borrow in Antwerp at five percent, while Philip II of Spain could hardly borrow at all. Yet she was lavish with her own clothes and jewels and with economic privileges granted to favorites.
The Queen and Parliament
She summoned Parliament rarely and reluctantly, mostly to obtain money, for she could not patiently bear opposition, criticism or supervision. She cared little for parliamentary power and believed, like Homer and Shakespeare, that one person should rule; with Henry VIII's blood and pride in her veins, she thought herself more entitled than anyone. She held to the divine right of kings and queens and imprisoned whomever she wished without trial or explanation. Her councillors could try political offenders without appeal, refuse writs of habeas corpus, withhold the cause of arrest and dispense with juries. She punished members of Parliament who obstructed her, and advised local magnates who influenced elections that things would go more smoothly if they chose candidates without childish notions about free speech. Early Parliaments obeyed her willingly, those of her middle years with irritation, and those of her last years were close to revolt.
She prevailed because the English preferred her wise despotism to the fury of rival factions. No one imagined letting the people rule; politics, as always, was a contest among minorities for the right to govern the majority. Half the nation resented her religious policy, and almost everyone fretted that she would not marry, but in general people were content with light taxes, flourishing trade, internal order and long peace, and they returned her warmth. She arranged entertainments, walked among them, listened without visible weariness, and attended public games and countless amusements held "for the soul of the people." The Spanish ambassador, lamenting her Protestantism, wrote to Philip that she was much attached to the people and believed they were all on her side, which was indeed true. Plots against her only increased her popularity; even the Puritans she persecuted prayed for her health, and the anniversary of her accession became a day of national thanksgiving.
Who Really Governed?
Was Elizabeth the true ruler, or did the lesser nobility and a small group of powerful London merchants hold the reins? Her ministers feared her temper, yet often corrected her political mistakes, as she corrected theirs. They told her bitter truths, offered conflicting advice and then obeyed her decisions; one might say they governed while she ruled. The Spanish ambassador wrote that she gave orders and, like her father, did exactly as she pleased. Cecil himself could seldom predict what she would decide and was hurt when she ignored his careful counsel. When he urged her to drop negotiations with France and rely only on Protestant help, she told him sharply that she had decided to end the matter, would respond favorably to the French king, and no longer meant to be ruled by him and his "brothers in Christ."
The Art of Delay
Her statecraft exasperated friends and enemies alike. She was frustratingly slow and hesitant in choosing a course, yet her indecision often paid off. She knew how to use time, which solves problems better than men do; by waiting, complex forces became clear. She admired the legendary philosopher who, when asked a question, silently recited the alphabet before answering. Her motto was "I see and keep silent." She understood that in politics, as in love, whoever never hesitates is lost. Her policy wavered, but so did the facts and forces she had to weigh, and surrounded by dangers and conspiracies she moved with forgivable caution, rarely trusting any situation to stay fixed.
Her vacillation caused some serious mistakes, but it kept England at peace until it was strong enough to face its enemies. Having inherited political chaos and military weakness, she saw only one practical policy: keep England's enemies from uniting against it, and support the Huguenots against the French king, the Dutch against Spain, and the Protestants against the Catholic Mary Stuart, who was too close to France. This policy rested on no moral principle. Like Machiavelli, she held that rulers responsible for nations cannot afford scruples. By whatever means she could, she kept her realm free of foreign domination, preserved peace with few interruptions for some thirty years, and advanced England materially and intellectually.
A Diplomat Without Equal
As a diplomat she could have taught foreign ministers lessons in gathering information quickly, devising clever stratagems and making moves whose outcome stayed hidden. She was the most accomplished liar of her time. Of the four women whom John Knox saw as ruling the late sixteenth century, and whose government he called "monstrous" (Mary Tudor, Mary Stuart, Catherine de' Medici and Elizabeth), she was clearly the most able in political intelligence and diplomatic skill. Cecil called her the wisest woman who ever lived, since she knew the interests and character of every prince of her day and knew her own kingdom so well that nothing her councillors said was new to her, an obvious exaggeration. She could speak directly with ambassadors in French, Italian and Latin without interpreters. The Spanish ambassador wrote that she was worth a hundred thousand devils, yet claimed she wished to become a nun and pray in a cell from morning to night. All the courts of Europe condemned and admired her at once, and Pope Sixtus V said that if only she were not a heretic, she would be worth the whole world.