Elizabeth the First

Over the weekend I saw the 2005 made-for-tv movie Elizabeth I, starring Helen Mirren as Elizabeth and Jeremy Irons as her life-long friend Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester (pron. Lester). It was very good in some respects, a bit disappointing in others. What I particularly liked was the realistic way it conveyed the life inside the royal apartments, with the Queen moving back and forth between her Council chamber, her private rooms, and her throne room, all, it seems, closely adjoining each other. And the rooms looked just like what I remember from Windsor Castle. What I did not like was the movie’s neglect of the political. Almost the entire focus is on Elizabeth’s relationship with Leicester and her unsuccessful search for personal happiness, as shown in her (touchingly portrayed) courtship by the Duke of Anjou whom she cares for but must finally to her great distress reject because her people will not stand for a Catholic King. It’s not clear to me, however, that the historical Elizabeth ever seriously intended marrying anyone; the arguments against her marrying, as explained in the biography linked below, were compelling. In any case, the movie shows her, not as the take-charge, crafty monarch of history, but as a vulnerable woman centered on her emotional needs. It’s almost an anti-feminist view of Elizabeth—and certainly the opposite of the off-putting 1999 Cate Blanchett movie in which Elizabeth ruthlessly suppresses her personal self. Oddly, and certainly ahistorically, Mirren’s Elizabeth is shown becoming a vigorous, confident leader only after she has been Queen for 30 years and is in her mid fifties, addressing her army at the time of the Spanish Armada: “I know I have the body but of a weak and feeble woman; but I have the heart and stomach of a King, and of a King of England too!”

Wanting to check certain facts about Elizabeth, I found online a readable biography that brings into sharper relief, at least for me, key aspects of Elizabeth’s incredibly fraught life.

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Bill Carpenter writes:

You might enjoy Paul Johnson’s Elizabeth I: A Study in Power and Success (if I recall the title correctly). I found that movie very aggravating because of the implausible trivialization of Her Majesty’s personality. It seemed of a piece with the contemporary hatred of greatness. Of a piece too with Helen Mirren’s The Queen, except the dignity of royalty comes through despite the degradation of modern taste.

LA replies:

I had very similar thoughts.

On one hand, it was anti-feminist, since it was showing her as weak and not strong. On the other hand, it still got its leftist licks in, by trivializing her leadership, and perhaps trivializing the very idea of leadership. However, I wouldn’t go so far as to call it a “hatred of greatness.” To me, the movie was notably lacking in the vicious hatred of the past that characterizes many—perhaps most—British historical movies nowadays.

KPA writes from Canada:

From Paul Johnson’s account, Elizabeth does indeed come off as a unique character. She seemed to have no grudges against her father—whom she idolized—for the death of her mother. And she certainly didn’t have those “psychological” hang-ups of a child who grew up without a mother.

Although she never married, I think she good naturedly accepted her marriageless life. She surrounded herself with highly intelligent male advisers, and enjoyed intellectual company.

She also took good care of the women around her, admonishing them for loose behavior, and finding them appropriate husbands.

She appeared to have a temper, or at least a more than passionate character, and at times did use her feminine wiles. Perhaps it is the woman in her that made her so indecisive, although Johnson does argue that many times it was due to prudence, and paid off more than it didn’t.

She had a lighter side too. She loved to dance, and allowed the lovely English church music to flourish.

Also, her understanding of tradition gave her the insight to keep the Catholics protected, albeit separate from society.

And, rather than have a homosexual in her circle, she diplomatically never gave one such potential adviser a prominent place.

And even her relationship with the impetuous Earl of Essex was more based on her insights into his abilities, rather than some romantic or misguided attachment.

She was certainly no weakling, but also made good use of her surrounding men, unlike her cousin Mary Queen of Scots.

Quite a great Queen, after all was said and done.

LA replies:

For her not to have grudges against her father is pretty incredible. Consider the below excerpt from the bio I linked earlier. Read especially the part in bold. It takes us into Henry’s psychology in a new way. I knew that Elizabeth’s being a girl was a problem, I did not realize it was the earthquake portrayed here. Elizabeth’s birth, as a girl, shattered her father, destroyed his love for her mother, and led ultimately to her mother’s trial and exeeution at the hands of her father’s government, which also resulted in Elizabeth losing her royalty and being treated as an unwanted thing through most of her childhood. Yet, says KPA, according to Johnson, she had no resentment of her father. That’s amazing.

Here’s the excerpt:

Although there was no law in Tudor England preventing the accession of a woman to the throne as there was in France, the rule of a woman was considered undesirable. Not only was it thought that a woman was incapable of ruling a kingdom, there were also practical considerations that made female sovereignty problematic, such as her marriage, and the problem of the role her husband should have, as well as the risks of childbirth. It was unlikely that Henry would ever have a son by Catherine of Aragon (she was older than him, and her child-bearing days were numbered) and this troubled him considerably. Also he had fallen deeply in love with the young and dazzling Anne Boleyn and wanted to make her his bride. To marry Anne, however, he had to have his marriage to Catherine annulled, and annulling a marriage was never a simple process. For Henry, it proved colossal. The power to annul marriages lay with the Pope, and unfortunately for Henry, Catherine had very powerful family connections. She was the aunt of the great Emperor, Charles V, and the Pope could not afford to offend Charles by granting Henry his annulment. As time progressed, it became clear to Henry that if he wanted to marry again, he would have to find a way of obtaining an annulment without the Pope’s assistance.

Henry and his advisors found the answer in breaking with the Catholic Church completely, and establishing an independent Church of England. This would give Henry complete power over matters ecclesiastical. This revolutionary step was made possible by the emergence in Europe at this time of a new branch of Christianity that rapidly gained the name of Protestantism. This had very important doctrinal differences to Catholicism, but Henry’s prime concern was ousting the power of the Pope. In many ways the new English Church remained essentially Catholic. But the change of official religion (known as the Reformation ) had far reaching effects on England. For centuries, monks, nuns and friars had been an integral aspect of English life, but with the old Church, this way of life came to an end. The monasteries were closed, and the monks, nuns, and friars, were forced into the towns and cities. They were granted a life pension so that they could look after themselves, and many found a new livelihood, but others fell into poverty and became beggars.

Now that Henry was Supreme Head of the Church in England, he could get his annulment. In the January of 1533 he married Anne Boleyn, who was already expecting his child. In the July of that year, although heavily pregnant, Anne was given a magnificent coronation. She and Catherine of Aragon were the only ones of Henry’s wives to be formally crowned Queen of England. Both Henry and Anne believed with their whole heart that the child she was expecting was a boy, and had every reason to as the philosophers and astronomers assured the jubilant king that this time he would have a son.

But the baby born proved to be a girl. This was disastrous, and no one felt the disaster more than Henry. He had moved mountains to marry Anne, had overridden the Pope, the Emperor, lost friends, lost the Church that he had once been a proud defender of, torn down the abbeys and monasteries, and put men to death whose only crime was their faith; all for what he already had, a daughter. He felt the humiliation deeply, and felt once again that he had not been blessed by God. There was little celebration at baby Elizabeth’s birth. Bonfires were lit through out the land but with little enthusiasm. Anne Boleyn was unpopular. Many blamed her for the religious changes in the land and for the king’s rejection of Catherine, who they had loved. However, Elizabeth was given a magnificent Christening at Greenwich when she was only three days old.

From Elizabeth’s birth onwards, Henry’s feelings for the woman he had once loved passionately began to cool. His attention was taken by the other attractive ladies surrounding her, and he was openly tired of Anne’s company. But while Anne was still Queen of England, Elizabeth’s life was comfortable. She had been granted her own household at the Royal Palace of Hatfield, and her mother saw to it that she was well cared for. Amongst those attending the new Princess was her half sister, Princess Mary, now Lady as she was made illegitimate at the annulling of her mother’s marriage to the King. Only the heir to the throne could be prince or princess in England, and as an illegitimate offspring, Mary was no longer in line to the throne. This was a cruel twist of fate, and Mary understandably resented having to serve the daughter of the woman who had replaced her mother. Elizabeth’s governess at this time was Margaret, Lady Bryan. She was Elizabeth’s chief carer and responsible for her well-being. It was customary for royal children to live apart from their parents, although Anne ensured that she saw Elizabeth regularly.

Without a doubt, had Elizabeth been a boy, or had Anne borne Henry a son in the years immediately following her daughter’s birth, then Anne’s fate would have been very different. But like Catherine before her, Anne did not make this provision. Some time after Elizabeth’s birth, she suffered a miscarriage, and later gave premature birth to a dead male child. It has been said, quite aptly, that she miscarried of her savior. The same doubts that had plagued Henry over his marriage to Catherine now plagued him over his marriage to Anne and as time went on these doubts grew. When Catherine of Aragon died, possibly of cancer, Henry was free to dispose of Anne without facing petitions to have him take Catherine back. Anne’s days were numbered. She was accused (probably falsely) of witchcraft, adultery, and incest, and was arrested and taken to the Tower of London. She was put on trial and found guilty on all accounts, and condemned to death. It was up to Henry how she died, decapitation or burning, and Henry chose the former. The customary method of execution was to cut off the head with an ax, but Anne requested to be put to death by the sword. Henry granted her wish and a swordsman was brought over from France as there was no one in England skilled enough to do it. Anne was beheaded on Tower Green on the 19 of May of 1536. Elizabeth was only two and a half years old.

Posted by Lawrence Auster at September 17, 2007 01:56 PM | Send