A window into Elizabeth’s soul
In approaching the Reformation undertaken under the reign of Elizabeth Tudor, it seems natural to quote her words of ‘opening a window into one’s soul’, as that is precisely what the task is about. In this case, I am trying to open windows not only into the soul of the Queen, but also into that of England itself.
Grasping the religious legacy that Elizabeth left to the country is not an easy thing to do. The assessment of her achievement, which was indeed great, is difficult to attain; such is the amount of information and opinions on the matter.
The reign of Elizabeth I did not mean a smooth transition from the ambiguity, intolerance, and difficulties of the previous three reigns into an era of religious uniformity and tranquillity. Her reign was a challenging one although it was successful in bringing about a new religious system that, in an overall view, did work out.
Elizabeth I’s personal religion
Confronted with the figures of her arbitrary and bloodthirsty father, Henry VIII, of her intolerant brother, Edward VI, and of her equally intolerant and keen persecutor sister, Mary I, Elizabeth lives in popular imagery as a much livelier character. She is Gloriana, the Virgin Queen who set up the foundations of the future British Empire and who brought to England its longed-for and much deserved peace with the consolidation of the Anglican Church, a distinctive version of Christianity synthesising Catholic and Protestant strands[1].
Even when there is some truth to this traditional, popular and simplified view, not many processes have been as tortuous and complicated as the one achieved by Elizabeth I. However, when the Queen died in 1603, it was not yet entirely completed. One of the most complex issues in the study of the Elizabethan Settlement is the disentanglement of the Queen’s own personal religion; that is, what did Elizabeth really believe in.
Traditional historiography described the Queen as being a politique, stating that she was either ‘sceptical or indifferent’[2], that she lacked a sense of morality and religious temperament[3] and even that she was an atheist[4]. Pollard, Neale, Hollis and Black subscribed to these theories, later rejected by the thorough study of her personal Book of Devotions, a task which Haugaard and Haigh undertook wholeheartedly, showing the Queen as a pious and deeply religious princess[5]
Collinson, on the other hand, preferred to look at her actions and behaviour, questioning the historical value of the sole study of the Book of Devotions, and established certain traits of Elizabeth’s religious conservatism such as her dislike of married clergy, her hostility to the destruction of crosses and church monuments, her use of Catholic oaths, and her negative prejudice against the preaching clergy, thus concluding that she was an ‘odd sort of Protestant’[6].
Doran has recently questioned why nobody looked at her correspondence in search of more specific hints on the Queen’s religious ideas. She concludes that her letters expressed a Protestant faith and religious outlook that she evidently held but that, at the same time, having been brought up in an evangelical humanist environment, she disliked the godly and certain faith of the younger generation of Protestant divines that developed during her reign[7], relying heavily on Erasmian, evangelical and Lutheran influences.
Elizabeth was initially cautious with Catholics to the point that certain foreign ambassadors thought, during the first decade of her reign, that reconciliation with Rome could still be possible. Her serious - although not very practicable - marriage negotiations with Archduke Charles of Austria in the 1560’s and with Duke Francis of Alençon – both Catholics – in the 1570’s infuriated her Protestant councillors while giving hope to the conservative ones. This behaviour shows Elizabeth as a highly skilled and shrewd politician, but it also shows that she could approach religion in a Machiavellian way, even risking her Protestant councillors’ patience[8]. Cynical as the approach may seem, Machiavellianism and prevarication were indeed very necessary in the 16th century and the fact that she never decided to marry a Catholic – or nobody at all, for that matter – speaks in favour of her and her Protestant religious commitment.
Doran concludes that, instead of being an ‘odd sort of Protestant’, she was an ‘old sort of Protestant’. Although cripto-Catholics and conservatives among her subjects may have doubted her true commitment to Protestantism during the early stages of her reign, her Protestant subjects were very sure about her sincere Protestant beliefs, and so were foreign Protestant princes and politicians. She addressed them as coreligionists and she was concerned about and tried to prevent dissensions between Calvinists, Zwinglians and those following Luther and Melanchton’s views, which had been expressed in the Augsburg Confession of 1530. She seems to have been more inclined to the latter, but she was nevertheless regarded as the spiritual and political leader of Protestant Europe, being the only free – albeit threatened - Protestant monarch of a powerful country. This view she obviously enjoyed and endorsed. It is possible that the closest we are ever going to get in the grasping of Elizabeth’s personal religion is MacCulloch’s position that she was an old fashioned evangelical with a faith and theological beliefs similar to those of Queen Katherine Parr[9]; a view that has been sustained by both Marshall[10] and Doran[11].
The Elizabethan Settlement
When Elizabeth inherited the crown in November 1558, she soon moved towards the reversal of her late sister’s religious establishment. After some tensions, which I will later describe, this came to happen with the promulgation of the Acts of Supremacy and Uniformity in April 1559. The former abolished the jurisdiction of the pope and restored the Royal Supremacy, whereas the latter reimposed the Edwardian Book of Prayer of 1552, with minor alterations, as the official worship of the Church[12]. Anglican tradition regarded the events in 1559 as a ‘distinct middle way between the extremes of Geneva and Rome’[13]. Neale’s view was that, although Elizabeth was aiming at a moderate and consensual Protestantism in the line of the Church of Henry VIII and based on the Prayer Book of 1549, she was forced to a more emphatically Protestant settlement by organised opposition at the House of Commons which had been orchestrated by Puritans who had returned from the Marian exile.
This version of events can not be sustained anymore. There had been a clear tendency towards the second Edwardian Prayer of 1552[14] and it is now more clearly established that the clash that took place in the 1559 Parliament was caused, not by opposition from Puritans in the House of Commons, but by opposition from Catholics and conservatives in the House of Lords[15].
Both bills were passed in the end, but not without a struggle, as all the bishops and nine lay nobles had voted against the uniformity bill. Haigh states that the pressure coming from the House of Lords prevented the clear-cut Protestantism that had been intended for the new Church in favour of a Protestant Church with some Catholic elements or, to sum up and in his own words, ‘a half-hearted Reformation’[16].
Marshall points out that differences between the settlement of 1559 and the Edwardian Reformation seem to support the case. Firstly, Elizabeth was declared ‘Supreme Governor of the Church of England’, rather than ‘Supreme Head’ which was the title that her father, brother and even her sister, for a short time, had held. Besides this, the new Prayer Book of 1559 modified that of 1552 in its most controversial point, that of the ‘words of administration’ spoken by the minister to those receiving communion. In this aspect, the 1549 formula was preferred, and it was one open to debate, as it could imply the acceptance of transubstantiation, much to the chagrin of godly Protestants. This solution might have relieved some Catholics and conservatives, but it was also indicative of the continental developments that were taking place within the Reformed Church, as Calvin believed in the spiritual presence of Christ in the hearts of faithful communicants and the successors of Zwingli had been moving closer to this position since the 1540’s even though Zwingli himself had been opposed to this view.
Acceptance and Opposition
How were these Acts to be enforced was, of course, a different matter. That ecclesiastical legislation and changes were relatively easy to enact did not mean that the bulk of Elizabeth’s subjects would accept them so easily.
Haigh states that Elizabeth’s known Protestantism might have been the clue for the somewhat unenthusiastic reception she received at her accession[17]. If that was the case it might have been not only because of widespread acceptance of Mary’s Catholic restoration, but also because people might have been afraid of and anxious about a new reversal of religious policies. Elizabeth had, from the very first moment, decided to rely on the Protestants, and proof of this is the appointment of new Protestant councillors led by William Cecil, an openly committed Protestant himself.
The conformity of Marian bishops and conservative lay peers was, of course, essential. The former were quite a consistent group who had served under Mary and who were still fiercely loyal to Catholicism. Deprivation of sees, imprisonment and natural death all took their toll on the bishop’s number and soon Elizabeth had the chance to replace them with her own bishops. To the archbishopric of Canterbury, for example, she appointed Matthew Parker, a committed Protestant who had also been Anne Boleyn’s chaplain.
Due to discrepancies over the content of the Acts of Supremacy and Uniformity, royal Injunctions were prepared in June 1559. These declared that not all church images were idolatrous, condemning only superstitious abuse. Other revisions included the removal of the altars, which were to be replaced with communion tables that would stand in the altar’s place, and communion was to be given with the traditional wafers.
If the Queen was aiming at the contentment of Catholics and Protestants alike, she was to be disappointed. The planned royal visitations of summer 1559 to impose the royal supremacy, the Book of Common Prayer and the Injunctions on a group of dioceses were to prove a new source of conflict. There was a radical interpretation of instructions on the part of the visitors which resulted in the burning of images and the tearing down of roods and other crosses[18]. The commissioners also summoned the clergy of their circuits for their subscription to the Royal Supremacy, the Prayer Book and the Injunctions and, although many did conform, others did not. Some were dismissed from their posts, but many evaded formal submission.
In short, there was confusion, rejection and, in general, strong reactions on both sides. Elizabeth was outraged by the results, both by the provocative iconoclasm of the Protestants and by the disobedience of the conservatives. She was determined to enforce her concessions on images, but her bishops saw in this a sinful revival of idolatry.
After this new clash with the episcopate, Elizabeth backed down, as it was the potential loss of her Protestant bishops which she now faced and she simply could not afford it having already lost her Catholic bishops. In 1560, bishop Grindal was allowed to enforce demolition of rood-lofts in London churches and in October 1561, Elizabeth herself ordered all lofts to be taken down.
However, parishioners were slow in obeying orders from commissioners and bishops, with the destruction or removal of images and pictures causing more trouble than those of altars. Keeping these and the rest of mass equipment was not only done out of Catholic loyalty, which was the case in some places, but also out of common prudence, as people believed that yet more shifts in religious policy could occur.
The 1560’s saw a struggle to enforce the official worship at the same time as bishops tried to ensure that proper Protestant preachers were installed in parishes. Most of the old clergymen were supposed to be conservatives and, although the general picture suggests that there was no real concern or support for the pope, the rest of their doctrine was Catholic. It was assumed that Catholicism would wane and finally die a natural death when old priests eventually began to die themselves or resigned because of old age.
This came to be true and, although there was a brief revival of Catholic sympathies after the Northern Rebellion of 1569, the people had proven to be loyal to the Crown. This would be further proved more than two decades later, when the schemes of Elizabeth’s nemesis, the Catholic Mary Queen of Scots, found little popular support. But this waning away of Catholicism coincided with the bombardment of Jesuit missions sent to England by the pope. In 1570, when the kingdom’s relationships with Catholic powers was rapidly deteriorating, pope Pius V issued a bull of excommunication[19] against Elizabeth, claiming her to be deposed and freeing her subjects from allegiance to her. These measures not only had little support among the populace, they also provoked a hardening of Catholic repression in England.
In search of uniformity, the Elizabethan Church did her job well, not only increasing the number of learned Protestant preachers, but also gaining control of the universities where these were educated. Gradually, the level of conservatism became smaller and smaller, being mainly concentrated in some gentry households and far-away localities.
The evangelical and educational cares taken by the Elizabethan government obtained their reward and, by 1575, it became apparent that Protestant conviction and conformity were now widespread. By the 1580’s, people in the south-east were attending sermons in other parishes if theirs were deemed too conservative, there were private conventicles for prayer and Bible study and there was hostility to popish survivals such as the sign of the cross at baptisms. In Northamptonshire there is evidence of Protestant commitment in 1570, at Hull and Lewes during the following decade, at Terling in Essex in the 1580’s, and at Leeds and York in the 1590’s. In the towns of south-east Lancashire there was substantial Protestant enthusiasm by the 1580’s and in rural Cambridgeshire by the 1590’s.
A Protestant nation was indeed being created, but even Protestants themselves were pessimistic about their achievement, as the country was still divided over religious issues.
Some thoughts
When Elizabeth I died in March 1603 and James I inherited the throne, the Reformation had eradicated the notion of ‘Catholic England’. But England was not yet, however, a fully Protestant country.
There were religious divisions and Protestants were insecure, as popery had not been crushed. At the same time, parish anglicans were, in the eyes of the Puritans, not only failed Protestants but also potential papists.
However, the Elizabethan Reformation was a successful one as it had managed to instil in the bulk of society a true Protestant commitment and a true Protestant structure derived from preaching, education and enforcement of the law. Although it is true that the Church of England was not yet a thoroughly consolidated Church, as the Guy Fawkes incident and religious dissidence were to prove in the reigns of James I and Charles I, at Elizabeth’s death England was no longer the religiously hesitant country of the period from 1529 to 1558, but a nation that had emerged with a self-assured and increasingly mature Protestant identity.
Gonzalo Velasco
[1] Marshall, ‘Reformation England’, p. 114.
[2] Pollard, ‘The History of England from the Accession of Edward VI to the death of Elizabeth (1547-1603)’, pp. 179-180.
[3] Ibidem.
[4] Hollis, ‘The Monstrous Regiment’, pp.28-30.
[5] Doran, Elizabeth I’s Religion: the Evidence of Her Letters.
[6] Ibidem and Collinson, Windows in a Woman’s Soul, in ‘Elizabethan Essays’, pp. 108-114.
[7] Doran, ibidem, p. 720.
[8] Doran, Religion and Politics at the Court of Elizabeth I: The Habsburg Marriage Negotiations of 1559-1567.
[9] MacCulloch, ‘Tudor Church Militant’, pp. 186-187.
[10] Marshall, ‘Reformation England’, p. 117.
[11] Doran, Elizabeth I’s Religion: the Evidence of Her Letters.
[12] Marshall, op. cit., p. 115.
[13] Ibidem.
[14] Marshall, op.cit., p. 116.
[15] Ibidem.
[16] Haigh, ‘English Reformations’.
[17] Haigh, ‘English Reformations’, p. 238.
[18] Ibidem, pp. 242-243.
[19] Regnans in Excelsis.
In approaching the Reformation undertaken under the reign of Elizabeth Tudor, it seems natural to quote her words of ‘opening a window into one’s soul’, as that is precisely what the task is about. In this case, I am trying to open windows not only into the soul of the Queen, but also into that of England itself.
Grasping the religious legacy that Elizabeth left to the country is not an easy thing to do. The assessment of her achievement, which was indeed great, is difficult to attain; such is the amount of information and opinions on the matter.
The reign of Elizabeth I did not mean a smooth transition from the ambiguity, intolerance, and difficulties of the previous three reigns into an era of religious uniformity and tranquillity. Her reign was a challenging one although it was successful in bringing about a new religious system that, in an overall view, did work out.
Elizabeth I’s personal religion
Confronted with the figures of her arbitrary and bloodthirsty father, Henry VIII, of her intolerant brother, Edward VI, and of her equally intolerant and keen persecutor sister, Mary I, Elizabeth lives in popular imagery as a much livelier character. She is Gloriana, the Virgin Queen who set up the foundations of the future British Empire and who brought to England its longed-for and much deserved peace with the consolidation of the Anglican Church, a distinctive version of Christianity synthesising Catholic and Protestant strands[1].
Even when there is some truth to this traditional, popular and simplified view, not many processes have been as tortuous and complicated as the one achieved by Elizabeth I. However, when the Queen died in 1603, it was not yet entirely completed. One of the most complex issues in the study of the Elizabethan Settlement is the disentanglement of the Queen’s own personal religion; that is, what did Elizabeth really believe in.
Traditional historiography described the Queen as being a politique, stating that she was either ‘sceptical or indifferent’[2], that she lacked a sense of morality and religious temperament[3] and even that she was an atheist[4]. Pollard, Neale, Hollis and Black subscribed to these theories, later rejected by the thorough study of her personal Book of Devotions, a task which Haugaard and Haigh undertook wholeheartedly, showing the Queen as a pious and deeply religious princess[5]
Collinson, on the other hand, preferred to look at her actions and behaviour, questioning the historical value of the sole study of the Book of Devotions, and established certain traits of Elizabeth’s religious conservatism such as her dislike of married clergy, her hostility to the destruction of crosses and church monuments, her use of Catholic oaths, and her negative prejudice against the preaching clergy, thus concluding that she was an ‘odd sort of Protestant’[6].
Doran has recently questioned why nobody looked at her correspondence in search of more specific hints on the Queen’s religious ideas. She concludes that her letters expressed a Protestant faith and religious outlook that she evidently held but that, at the same time, having been brought up in an evangelical humanist environment, she disliked the godly and certain faith of the younger generation of Protestant divines that developed during her reign[7], relying heavily on Erasmian, evangelical and Lutheran influences.
Elizabeth was initially cautious with Catholics to the point that certain foreign ambassadors thought, during the first decade of her reign, that reconciliation with Rome could still be possible. Her serious - although not very practicable - marriage negotiations with Archduke Charles of Austria in the 1560’s and with Duke Francis of Alençon – both Catholics – in the 1570’s infuriated her Protestant councillors while giving hope to the conservative ones. This behaviour shows Elizabeth as a highly skilled and shrewd politician, but it also shows that she could approach religion in a Machiavellian way, even risking her Protestant councillors’ patience[8]. Cynical as the approach may seem, Machiavellianism and prevarication were indeed very necessary in the 16th century and the fact that she never decided to marry a Catholic – or nobody at all, for that matter – speaks in favour of her and her Protestant religious commitment.
Doran concludes that, instead of being an ‘odd sort of Protestant’, she was an ‘old sort of Protestant’. Although cripto-Catholics and conservatives among her subjects may have doubted her true commitment to Protestantism during the early stages of her reign, her Protestant subjects were very sure about her sincere Protestant beliefs, and so were foreign Protestant princes and politicians. She addressed them as coreligionists and she was concerned about and tried to prevent dissensions between Calvinists, Zwinglians and those following Luther and Melanchton’s views, which had been expressed in the Augsburg Confession of 1530. She seems to have been more inclined to the latter, but she was nevertheless regarded as the spiritual and political leader of Protestant Europe, being the only free – albeit threatened - Protestant monarch of a powerful country. This view she obviously enjoyed and endorsed. It is possible that the closest we are ever going to get in the grasping of Elizabeth’s personal religion is MacCulloch’s position that she was an old fashioned evangelical with a faith and theological beliefs similar to those of Queen Katherine Parr[9]; a view that has been sustained by both Marshall[10] and Doran[11].
The Elizabethan Settlement
When Elizabeth inherited the crown in November 1558, she soon moved towards the reversal of her late sister’s religious establishment. After some tensions, which I will later describe, this came to happen with the promulgation of the Acts of Supremacy and Uniformity in April 1559. The former abolished the jurisdiction of the pope and restored the Royal Supremacy, whereas the latter reimposed the Edwardian Book of Prayer of 1552, with minor alterations, as the official worship of the Church[12]. Anglican tradition regarded the events in 1559 as a ‘distinct middle way between the extremes of Geneva and Rome’[13]. Neale’s view was that, although Elizabeth was aiming at a moderate and consensual Protestantism in the line of the Church of Henry VIII and based on the Prayer Book of 1549, she was forced to a more emphatically Protestant settlement by organised opposition at the House of Commons which had been orchestrated by Puritans who had returned from the Marian exile.
This version of events can not be sustained anymore. There had been a clear tendency towards the second Edwardian Prayer of 1552[14] and it is now more clearly established that the clash that took place in the 1559 Parliament was caused, not by opposition from Puritans in the House of Commons, but by opposition from Catholics and conservatives in the House of Lords[15].
Both bills were passed in the end, but not without a struggle, as all the bishops and nine lay nobles had voted against the uniformity bill. Haigh states that the pressure coming from the House of Lords prevented the clear-cut Protestantism that had been intended for the new Church in favour of a Protestant Church with some Catholic elements or, to sum up and in his own words, ‘a half-hearted Reformation’[16].
Marshall points out that differences between the settlement of 1559 and the Edwardian Reformation seem to support the case. Firstly, Elizabeth was declared ‘Supreme Governor of the Church of England’, rather than ‘Supreme Head’ which was the title that her father, brother and even her sister, for a short time, had held. Besides this, the new Prayer Book of 1559 modified that of 1552 in its most controversial point, that of the ‘words of administration’ spoken by the minister to those receiving communion. In this aspect, the 1549 formula was preferred, and it was one open to debate, as it could imply the acceptance of transubstantiation, much to the chagrin of godly Protestants. This solution might have relieved some Catholics and conservatives, but it was also indicative of the continental developments that were taking place within the Reformed Church, as Calvin believed in the spiritual presence of Christ in the hearts of faithful communicants and the successors of Zwingli had been moving closer to this position since the 1540’s even though Zwingli himself had been opposed to this view.
Acceptance and Opposition
How were these Acts to be enforced was, of course, a different matter. That ecclesiastical legislation and changes were relatively easy to enact did not mean that the bulk of Elizabeth’s subjects would accept them so easily.
Haigh states that Elizabeth’s known Protestantism might have been the clue for the somewhat unenthusiastic reception she received at her accession[17]. If that was the case it might have been not only because of widespread acceptance of Mary’s Catholic restoration, but also because people might have been afraid of and anxious about a new reversal of religious policies. Elizabeth had, from the very first moment, decided to rely on the Protestants, and proof of this is the appointment of new Protestant councillors led by William Cecil, an openly committed Protestant himself.
The conformity of Marian bishops and conservative lay peers was, of course, essential. The former were quite a consistent group who had served under Mary and who were still fiercely loyal to Catholicism. Deprivation of sees, imprisonment and natural death all took their toll on the bishop’s number and soon Elizabeth had the chance to replace them with her own bishops. To the archbishopric of Canterbury, for example, she appointed Matthew Parker, a committed Protestant who had also been Anne Boleyn’s chaplain.
Due to discrepancies over the content of the Acts of Supremacy and Uniformity, royal Injunctions were prepared in June 1559. These declared that not all church images were idolatrous, condemning only superstitious abuse. Other revisions included the removal of the altars, which were to be replaced with communion tables that would stand in the altar’s place, and communion was to be given with the traditional wafers.
If the Queen was aiming at the contentment of Catholics and Protestants alike, she was to be disappointed. The planned royal visitations of summer 1559 to impose the royal supremacy, the Book of Common Prayer and the Injunctions on a group of dioceses were to prove a new source of conflict. There was a radical interpretation of instructions on the part of the visitors which resulted in the burning of images and the tearing down of roods and other crosses[18]. The commissioners also summoned the clergy of their circuits for their subscription to the Royal Supremacy, the Prayer Book and the Injunctions and, although many did conform, others did not. Some were dismissed from their posts, but many evaded formal submission.
In short, there was confusion, rejection and, in general, strong reactions on both sides. Elizabeth was outraged by the results, both by the provocative iconoclasm of the Protestants and by the disobedience of the conservatives. She was determined to enforce her concessions on images, but her bishops saw in this a sinful revival of idolatry.
After this new clash with the episcopate, Elizabeth backed down, as it was the potential loss of her Protestant bishops which she now faced and she simply could not afford it having already lost her Catholic bishops. In 1560, bishop Grindal was allowed to enforce demolition of rood-lofts in London churches and in October 1561, Elizabeth herself ordered all lofts to be taken down.
However, parishioners were slow in obeying orders from commissioners and bishops, with the destruction or removal of images and pictures causing more trouble than those of altars. Keeping these and the rest of mass equipment was not only done out of Catholic loyalty, which was the case in some places, but also out of common prudence, as people believed that yet more shifts in religious policy could occur.
The 1560’s saw a struggle to enforce the official worship at the same time as bishops tried to ensure that proper Protestant preachers were installed in parishes. Most of the old clergymen were supposed to be conservatives and, although the general picture suggests that there was no real concern or support for the pope, the rest of their doctrine was Catholic. It was assumed that Catholicism would wane and finally die a natural death when old priests eventually began to die themselves or resigned because of old age.
This came to be true and, although there was a brief revival of Catholic sympathies after the Northern Rebellion of 1569, the people had proven to be loyal to the Crown. This would be further proved more than two decades later, when the schemes of Elizabeth’s nemesis, the Catholic Mary Queen of Scots, found little popular support. But this waning away of Catholicism coincided with the bombardment of Jesuit missions sent to England by the pope. In 1570, when the kingdom’s relationships with Catholic powers was rapidly deteriorating, pope Pius V issued a bull of excommunication[19] against Elizabeth, claiming her to be deposed and freeing her subjects from allegiance to her. These measures not only had little support among the populace, they also provoked a hardening of Catholic repression in England.
In search of uniformity, the Elizabethan Church did her job well, not only increasing the number of learned Protestant preachers, but also gaining control of the universities where these were educated. Gradually, the level of conservatism became smaller and smaller, being mainly concentrated in some gentry households and far-away localities.
The evangelical and educational cares taken by the Elizabethan government obtained their reward and, by 1575, it became apparent that Protestant conviction and conformity were now widespread. By the 1580’s, people in the south-east were attending sermons in other parishes if theirs were deemed too conservative, there were private conventicles for prayer and Bible study and there was hostility to popish survivals such as the sign of the cross at baptisms. In Northamptonshire there is evidence of Protestant commitment in 1570, at Hull and Lewes during the following decade, at Terling in Essex in the 1580’s, and at Leeds and York in the 1590’s. In the towns of south-east Lancashire there was substantial Protestant enthusiasm by the 1580’s and in rural Cambridgeshire by the 1590’s.
A Protestant nation was indeed being created, but even Protestants themselves were pessimistic about their achievement, as the country was still divided over religious issues.
Some thoughts
When Elizabeth I died in March 1603 and James I inherited the throne, the Reformation had eradicated the notion of ‘Catholic England’. But England was not yet, however, a fully Protestant country.
There were religious divisions and Protestants were insecure, as popery had not been crushed. At the same time, parish anglicans were, in the eyes of the Puritans, not only failed Protestants but also potential papists.
However, the Elizabethan Reformation was a successful one as it had managed to instil in the bulk of society a true Protestant commitment and a true Protestant structure derived from preaching, education and enforcement of the law. Although it is true that the Church of England was not yet a thoroughly consolidated Church, as the Guy Fawkes incident and religious dissidence were to prove in the reigns of James I and Charles I, at Elizabeth’s death England was no longer the religiously hesitant country of the period from 1529 to 1558, but a nation that had emerged with a self-assured and increasingly mature Protestant identity.
Gonzalo Velasco
[1] Marshall, ‘Reformation England’, p. 114.
[2] Pollard, ‘The History of England from the Accession of Edward VI to the death of Elizabeth (1547-1603)’, pp. 179-180.
[3] Ibidem.
[4] Hollis, ‘The Monstrous Regiment’, pp.28-30.
[5] Doran, Elizabeth I’s Religion: the Evidence of Her Letters.
[6] Ibidem and Collinson, Windows in a Woman’s Soul, in ‘Elizabethan Essays’, pp. 108-114.
[7] Doran, ibidem, p. 720.
[8] Doran, Religion and Politics at the Court of Elizabeth I: The Habsburg Marriage Negotiations of 1559-1567.
[9] MacCulloch, ‘Tudor Church Militant’, pp. 186-187.
[10] Marshall, ‘Reformation England’, p. 117.
[11] Doran, Elizabeth I’s Religion: the Evidence of Her Letters.
[12] Marshall, op. cit., p. 115.
[13] Ibidem.
[14] Marshall, op.cit., p. 116.
[15] Ibidem.
[16] Haigh, ‘English Reformations’.
[17] Haigh, ‘English Reformations’, p. 238.
[18] Ibidem, pp. 242-243.
[19] Regnans in Excelsis.
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