Essays for the 5th November

A selection of essays on the life and times of William Byrd (c.1540-1623)

Contents

Introduction: Remember, remember… William Byrd the Recusant Catholic Composer (1540-1623)

Christopher Moule (CR, History Department, Head of Academic Scholars)

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Crafting the image of Elizabeth I

Lara R (U6)

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Culture and Education of the Aristocracy in Elizabethan England

Charlotte L (L6)

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William Byrd, the musician

Michael Butterfield (CR, Music Department, College Organist)

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Why didn’t late Renaissance England produce greater painting and sculpture?

Ava H (Re)

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Vigilate: Cautious Catholicism in the Cantiones Sacrae of William Byrd

Josh Lynbeck (CR, History Department)

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Byrd’s personal religion in a time of turbulence

Lawrence C (U6)

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Elizabethan punishments

Lottie J (L6)

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‘Good King Bess?’ – gender and the royal succession in Byrd’s England

Alistair Hamilton (CR, History Department)

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Gunpowder; Treason? Or not … Guy Fawkes night and English Catholicism in the time of William Byrd

Alistair Hamilton (CR, History Department)

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‘The Great Chain of Being’ – God and man in the Early Modern era

Alistair Hamilton (CR, History Department)

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Why did James I kill Nicolas Owen?

Hugh R (Hu)

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Why did James I kill Sir Walter Raleigh?

Grace F (Re)

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Remember, remember… William Byrd the Recusant Catholic Composer (1540-1623) Christopher Moule (CR, History Department, Head of Academic Scholars)

As the bonfires burn this weekend, urging us to remember the great Catholic plot of 1605, we thought it an appropriate time to present this little series of essays. They’ve been inspired by the marvellously English composer William Byrd, a Catholic who lived through the Gunpowder Plot: this year is the 400th anniversary of his death.

Instead of confining our writing to Byrd, we’ve considered instead aspects of his world, and indeed his beautiful music movingly reflects and illustrates much about that world.

On the one hand, there is the glittering Elizabethan ‘golden age’, the climax of the English Renaissance: Byrd was a contemporary of the writers Shakespeare, Sidney, Spencer, the architect Smythson, and the composers Tallis and Gibbons, and of course the monarchs Elizabeth I and James I. Lara R has given us a rich explanation of the ‘crafting’ of Elizabeth’s image in literature and Charlotte L has illustrated the lives and education of the nobility (from whose number came Byrd’s main patrons); Mr Butterfield has placed some of the music in this rich context. Ava H, conversely, has wondered why there isn’t more significant English sculpture and painting from this period.

On the other hand, there is the palpable tension around religion and religious politics: the fears of Spanish invasion, the Gunpowder Plot, the persecution of Catholics. Several of our authors have focused on these more troublous themes: for instance, Hugh R has investigated the death of the priest-hole builder St Nicholas Owen, Grace F has asked what caused James I to execute Sir Walter Raleigh, and Mr Hamilton has discussed the Gunpowder Plot itself. Lottie J has taken us to the dark world of Elizabethan punishments. In spite of the pressure upon Catholics and the sometimes fierce persecution, Byrd wrote great Catholic music to accompany illegal worship: Lawrence C has described the difficulties of doing this, and some of the music is explored by Mr Lynbeck in his article about the Cantiones Sacrae.

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Though Byrd was Catholic and wrote Mass settings and other works to be sung secretly in Catholic houses, he wrote too for the Anglican Church, as well as for secular patrons. He was well-known in his day and favoured

by Elizabeth; he was a ‘Gentleman of the Chapel Royal’ from 1572, and, with his great contemporary (and likely teacher) Thomas Tallis, was granted a monopoly for the publication of music in England in 1575.

Byrd’s music is wonderfully varied, and it exudes the atmosphere of that passionate and ambitious time.

There are, for example, the flamboyant keyboard fantasias, which meander, story-like, from solid rich expositions through contrapuntal complexity to jaunty dances and dazzling virtuoso passages. Or the amusing Madrigals such as ‘If women could be faire…’, the intelligent, almost mathematical viol consort music, and the intense and heartfelt elegy for Tallis after his death: ‘Tallis is dead, Tallis is dead, and Music dies’.

The bulk of Byrd’s music is religious, and it is a joy to find one’s way through the services and verse anthems written in English to accompany the developing liturgy of the Anglican church. There are innumerable gems, among which the Great Service, written with consummate clarity and yet richness towards the end of his life, is one of the outstanding highlights.

But among all these riches I find nothing more moving than the greatest pieces written for secret Catholic worship. The most famous of these is the peerless motet Ave Verum. Perhaps even more powerful is the Four Part Mass, whose Kyrie – written only for tiny, illegal gatherings – was sung to the world at the Coronation of King Charles III earlier this year. The Agnus Dei at the end of the Mass pleads most profoundly for peace, as though crying to God against persecution in that troublous time. Like much of Byrd’s music, it combines the delicate, almost fragile sense of great antiquity with a tangible immediacy and relevance to our own experience.

I am grateful to all the contributors and also to Mrs Jordan for doing her usual brilliant work editing and presenting this!

Memorial for William Byrd, buried in 1623 in the churchyard of St Peter and St Paul, Stondon Massey, Essex.

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Crafting the image of Elizabeth I Lara R (U6) Writing in praise of Queen Elizabeth I, George Peele proclaims: “In her praise tune your heroic songs”. 1 Edmund Spenser’s description of Britomart as “the fairest Dame alive” 2 from Book III of his epic poem the Faerie Queene is an example of a “heroic song” in praise of the Queen. Britomart is an embodiment of feminine beauty, chastity, and chivalric fighting and can be viewed as a reflection of Elizabeth’s political image. Composer William Byrd’s lines “And greet Eliza with a rhyme/ O beauteous Queen of second Troy” 3 from his madrigal ‘This Sweet and Merry Month of May’ connects Elizabeth with the Astraea imagery to portray her as bringer of a Second Golden Age. Other symbols prescribed to Elizabeth which will be explored are the virgin goddess of the moon Cynthia, Diana, and Belphoebe; and Elisa the ‘May Queen’, bringer of peace and stability.

The literature and music of the Elizabethan period is widely acknowledged as a Golden Age of an emerging literary language and musical culture. While the use of this term denotes the flourishing of these art forms, it also invites consideration of the contextual use of the phrase ‘Golden Age’. To understand the relation between Queen Elizabeth and the first Golden Age, one must turn to the classical poets. Hesiod’s Works and Days describes the Myth of the Ages from the Golden Age to the age of Iron to illustrate the decline of civilisation from the perfection of the Golden Age. Ovid’s Metamorphoses portrays the departure of “the virgin Astraea, last of the immortals”. 4 The first golden age, under the rule of Saturn was followed by “the iron age, when evil was let loose” when it is believed that Astraea left the world and took abode in the heavens as the constellation Virgo. 5 To the Elizabethans, who were brought up with this mythology through their Latin primers in grammar school, there is much evidence to support the notion that the Virgin Astraea had returned to earth as Queen Elizabeth, thus bringing a Second Golden Age. This prophecy is affirmed in Sir John Davies of Hereford’s Hymns of Astraea, an acrostic poem with the first letters of each line read downwards spelling Elizabeth Regina: 6 B ut whereto shall we bend our lays?

E ven up to heaven, again to raise T he maid which, thence descended, H ath brought again the golden days A nd all the world amended.

R udenesse it self she doth refine, E ven like an alchemist divine, G ross times of iron turning I nto the purest form of gold, N ot to corrupt till heaven wax old, A nd be refined with burning.

The “gross times of iron” likely allude to the age of iron when it is believed that Astraea ascended to heaven suggesting that “the purest form of gold” refers to the coming of a new Golden Age. Elizabeth, as clear subject of G. Peele, https://www.poetryexplorer.net/poem.php?id=10114469, accessed 15.09.23.

E. Spenser, ‘Faerie Queene’, Bk. III, i, xviii; The Poetical Works of Edmund Spenser, ed. J. Smith, E. de Selincourt, London: Oxford University Press, 1921, p. 142.

3 W. Byrd, https://www.lyricsondemand.com/w/williambyrdlyrics/thissweetandmerrymonthofmaylyrics.html, accessed 15.09.23.

4 F. Yates, ‘Queen Elizabeth I as Astraea’, in Astraea: The Imperial Theme in the Sixteenth Century, London: Routledge, 1975, p. 30.

5 Ibid.

6 Ibid. p. 66.

J. Davies, Complete Poems, ed. A. B. Grosart, London: Leopold Classic Library, 1876, p. 129.

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the poem can be identified as “the maid which, thence descended” bringing “again the golden days”. While the Queen’s ‘virginity’ was an excitement through the question of suitors at the beginning of her reign, it resulted in political crisis and tragedy that no heir was produced for the Tudor line. Therefore, the Astraea imagery can be viewed as compensation in a bid to glorify the nation by creating an image of a dazzling virgin instead.

The term golden age has also been attached to the Elizabethan period to signify the height of the English Renaissance. The French term ‘Renaissance’ meaning re-birth is significant when discussing the image of Elizabeth. It is widely acknowledged that this ‘re-birth’ alludes to the recovery of ancient learning, clearly central to the Elizabeth-Astraea image. 7 However, it appears that there was more than recovery and imitation of ancient beliefs and that a spark was lit under Elizabeth. Take the symbol of the phoenix, one closely associated with the Queen and found alongside her in portraits, jewels, and even a wooden statue in St Mary Redcliffe, Bristol, to commemorate her visit to the city in 1574. 8 The phoenix and Astraea are “both symbols of imperial renovatio”, 9 suggesting that Elizabeth’s identity is closely linked to the idea of looking back to the ideal civilisation. For why should humanity not strive to bring the return of the Golden Age? After all, to the Elizabethans, perfection was within man’s reach; they believed that “since the world was founded on reason, perfection was attainable, and had once been attained in the arts of Greek and Rome, which were therefore to be imitated.” 10 It is in our mindset that we differ from the Elizabethans, and utopic musings such as Gonzalo’s in The Tempest complement the idealist nature of Elizabethan and Jacobean England: 11 GONZALO I’ th’ commonwealth…

No occupation; all men idle, all; And women too, but innocent and pure; No sovereignty; I would with such perfection govern, sir, To excel the golden age.

The prophecy expounding the return of the Golden Age is further tied to Elizabeth following her religious reforms. The re-establishment of Protestantism in 1559 can be seen as a ‘re-formation’ of religion with the return of “the original Church of Christ, the restoration of…pure religion”. 12 Thus, not only does Elizabeth’s unmarried status fit the model of the ancient virgin Astraea, but there is emphasis placed on the return of a past righteousness too. Thomas Tallis and William Byrd dedicated their Cantiones Sacrae to Queen Elizabeth, and particular attention should be turned to the work Salvator Mundi, meaning ‘Saviour of the World’. While the Christ reference is certain, perhaps the dedication to the Queen allows the possibility of seeing Elizabeth as England’s saviour from the ‘sins’ of Catholicism. Addressed by John Jewel as the “only nurse and mother of the Church of God”, 13 it seems Elizabeth’s identity extends beyond ‘bringer of the Second Golden Age’ to saviour and protector too.

A key characteristic of the Elizabethan period was the relative stability and one finds Elizabeth linked to these images of peace. Following a century and a half of political and religious turmoil with the Wars of the Roses and oscillating religion, the comparative harmony and length of Elizabeth’s reign “gave at last for the development of a civilised life, and for the flourishing of the arts.” 14 While the period was not solely peaceful as the Spanish Armada in 1588 and England’s involvement in the Dutch Revolt of 1586 were notable conflicts, in the 1630s there was a fear of becoming effeminate and rusty in war following the cumulative reigns of Elizabeth and James I. 15 Frances Yates gives the name ‘Elizabeth-Astraea’ to discuss this image of the Queen.

J. Buxton, Elizabethan Taste, London: Macmillan, 1963, p. 11.

9 F. Yates, p. 66.

10 Ibid.

11 W. Shakespeare, The Tempest, ed. V. Mason Vaughan, A. Vaughan, London: Bloomsbury, 2011, pp. 216-8.

12 J. Buxton, p. 10.

13 F. Yates, p. 78.

14 J. Buxton, p. 9.

15 James I sought to be viewed as ‘Jacobo pacifico’.

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It was believed that Elizabeth’s England provided a tabula rasa with the opportunity to re-attempt the establishment of a golden civilisation. The 1589 play Histrio-Mastrix glorifying the reign of Elizabeth contains the following paen portraying Elizabeth as bringer of peace: 16 Religions Gardian, Peaces patronesse!

Now flourish Arts, the Queen of Peace doth raigne; Elizabethan composer Edward Johnson similarly highlights the stability of the period: 17 Eliza is the fairest Queen That ever trod upon the green.

Eliza’s eyes are blessed stars, Inducing peace, subduing wars.

The significance of the stability for the arts is alluded to in the line from Histrio-Mastrix: “Now flourish Arts, the Queen of Peace doth raigne”. The flourishing of literature and music under Elizabeth is undeniable, and it seems that the stability established was the catalyst for this. In context this appears surprising when one considers other prosperous periods of the arts generally fuelled by a desire for change. 18 One may find answers for the apparent idiosyncrasy of the Elizabethan period when considering the revolution in education that takes place during the Renaissance. As well as rising literacy levels, the reform of education in accordance with the ideal ‘Renaissance man’ fosters a wide breadth including studies of classicism, philosophy, and grammar. Arguably there was a sense of ‘cultural cringe’ and inferiority which inspired the Elizabethans to imitate the culture of Ancient Greece and Rome. Looking back to the first Golden Age, the opening of the fifth book of Spenser’s Faerie Queene characterises a like climate of stability to portrayals of Elizabethan England: 19 For during Saturnes ancient reigne it’s sayd, That all the world with goodeness did abound: And loued vertue, no man was affrayd Of force, ne fraud in wight was to be found: No warre was known, no dreadful trumpets sound, Peace universall rayn’d mongst men and beasts, The description of “peace universall” likens the Elizabethan period to the first Golden Age through the prosperity and stability shared by both periods. Therefore, the stability that was so significant for the Elizabethan arts by providing a foundation for the flourishing of a civilisation not only strengthens the parallel with the ancients, but has been spun to craft an image of Elizabeth as the bringer of peace after so many years of turmoil.

The notion of flourishing can be linked to the image of Elizabeth as queen of spring and fertility. It is an identity employed by Spenser in the Aprill eclogue of The Shepheardes Calender, “purposely intended to the honor and prayse of our most gracious sovereigne, Queene Elizabeth.” 20

F. Yates, p. 59.

E. Johnson, https://www.cpdl.org/wiki/index.php/Eliza_is_the_fairest_queen_(Edward_Johnson), accessed 29.08.23.

18 The Russian Golden Age of literature, (1820s-1880s) and the Silver Age (1890s-1920s) saw the Decembrist rising of 1825 and the 1905 Revolution respectively which indicates a climate rife for change. Amid revolution and unrest, artistic murmurings are often found suggesting that these two events added to the fervour of the artistic periods. Similarly, the first half of the twentieth century saw two world wars, domineering political ideologies and riveting social turmoil which fostered a flourishing in the arts, the period we now call Modernism.

19 E. Spenser, ‘Faerie Queene’, Bk. V, Introduction, ix; p. 277.

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See, where she sits upon the grassie greene, (O seemly sight) Yclad in Scarlot like a mayden Queene, And Ermines white.

Upon her head a Cremosin coronet, With Damaske roses and Daffadillies set: Bayleaves betweene, And Primroses greene Embellish the sweete Violet.

Another of Sir John Davies’ Hymns relates Elizabeth to Spring and fertility:21 R eserue (sweet Spring) this Nymph of ours, E ternall garlands of thy flowers, G reene garlands neuer wasting; I n her shall last our State’s faire Spring, N ow and for euer flourishing, A s long as Heauen is lasting.

Here the comparison between the Elizabethan “State” and “faire Spring” suggests the symbol of fertility was not just associated with Elizabeth as a figure, but with the political identity of the nation too.

Growth and promise is ripe “now” under Elizabeth, and for “as long as Heauen is lasting.” Therefore, the spring that Elizabeth is tied to is “not the ordinary season but the eternal spring of the golden age” 22, suggesting that Elizabeth becomes the embodiment of the first golden age, of sixteenth-century England, and of future England, simultaneously.

Under Queen Elizabeth, we see a new courtly ideal emerge. This is characterised best by Nicholas Hilliard’s 1587 miniature Young Man among Roses. 23 The new courtier is effeminate, delicate, meditative, poetic, contemplative; he yearns for an inscription of Spenser’s kind to accompany his portrait. One might therefore suggest that in an effort to win Elizabeth’s favour, the courtiers sought to appeal to the image of Elizabeth, Queen of Spring. This is characterised by Frances Yates’ words: the “sweetly mingled odours in those born under her [Elizabeth] symbolises their love of elegance and of all the gentler arts and graces of life”. 24 We pick up these “sweetly mingled odours” in a Hilliard miniature, in passages of Spenser, like one might in a Botticelli. Spenser has been given the name Painter of the Poets, 25 and he paints a picture of Elizabeth the May Queen in passages of his verse.

E. Spenser, ‘The Shepheardes Calender’, Aprill, Argument; The Poetical Works of Edmund Spenser, ed. J. Smith, E. de Selincourt, London: Oxford University Press, 1921, p. 431.

21 J. Davies, p. 131.

22 F. Yates, p. 67.

23 N. Hilliard, https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2019/feb/20/elizabethan-treasures-miniatures-by-hilliard-and-oliver-review-nationalportrait-gallery-london, accessed 29.08.23.

24 F. Yates, p. 74.

25 R . Gottfried, ‘The Pictorial Element in Spenser’s Poetry’, ELH, vol. 19, no. 3, 1952, pp. 203-213.

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An image briefly touched on already that I will explore further is Elizabeth’s identity as the Virgin Queen.

Virgin Elizabeth-Astraea fulfilled the prophecy bringing the return of the Golden Age, though we find other allusions to the unmarried status of the Queen. The symbol of the phoenix being associated with Elizabeth is significant; the phoenix in myth is self-birthed and mate-less – there is only one, enhancing its desirability and distinctiveness – which reflects Elizabeth’s image as the Virgin Queen. Spenser’s Una from the Faerie Queene is described as “the royall Virgin” and her name, meaning ‘one’, reinforces her singularity. As well as alluding to her sexual oneness, the name reinforces the theme of the imperial ruler with supremacy over religion and state. Una, with the help of the Redcrosse knight, restores the rightful religion to Faerie Land following the defeat of the dragon which To the world does bring long wished light; 26 A clear parallel can be drawn to Queen Elizabeth’s restoration of Protestantism to England following the Marian years of Catholicism. Redcrosse is portrayed as a patriotic hero, saving England to become a saint: 27 For thou emongst those Saints, whom thou doest see, Shalt be a Saint, and thine owne nations frend And Patrone: thou Saint George shalt called bee, Saint George of mery England, the signe of victoree.

It is reasonable to assume that to the closet Protestants under Mary, Elizabeth’s coming would have been regarded in a similar way to Redcrosse’s victory over the dragon. Spenser associates Elizabeth with the patriotic hero Redcrosse, uniting the image of Elizabeth to the early figurations of Britannia.

The symbol of the moon draws on Elizabeth’s ‘oneness’ to shed light on another field of allusion. We find this through Diana, virgin goddess of the moon, Cynthia, and Belphoebe, whose name means ‘beautiful moon’.

Sir Walter Raleigh’s The Ocean to Scinthia is an elegy lamenting the loss of the Queen’s ‘love’ following Raleigh’s fall from favour: 28 A Queen shee was to mee, no more Belphoebe, A Lion then, no more milke white Dove; A prisoner in her brest I could not bee, She did untye the gentell chaynes of love.

While not a sonnet sequence, Raleigh’s poem fits within the conventions of love poetry influenced by Petrarch which rose to prominence under Queen Elizabeth. The Earl of Surrey was the first to use the sonnet form and was followed by Sir Philip Sidney’s Astrophel and Stella, composed in 1582. Others appeared later, such as Barnabe Barnes’ 1591 Parthenophil and Parthenophe, translated as ‘virgin and virgin-lover’. Though the form of these poems qualifies them as sonnet cycles, we find similar themes of idolisation, desire, suffering, and unrequited love in Raleigh’s poem to suggest that it may be read as an elegiac sonnet cycle.

The moon symbolism surrounding Elizabeth expands beyond Raleigh’s poem. For example, a Hilliard miniature portrays Queen Elizabeth as Cynthia, “the wide Ocean’s Empresse”. 29 This “wide Ocean” perhaps E. Spenser, Faerie Queene, Bk. I, xii, xxi; p. 65.

Ibid. Bk. I, x, lxi; p. 56.

28 W. Raleigh, ‘The 11th: and last booke of the Ocean to Scinthia’, The Poems of Sir Walter Ralegh, London: Routledge, 1951, p. 37.

29 Victoria and Albert Museum, https://collections.vam.ac.uk/item/O81995/portrait-of-queen-elizabeth-i-portrait-miniature-hilliard-nicholas/, accessed 26.08.23.

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alludes to the vast maritime empire expanding across the globe and may explain why this image of the Queen was widely attributed to her. If the metaphor of Elizabeth as Cynthia is continued, this would suggest that Elizabeth exerts her command over her vast empire in the way that the moon dictates the ocean. Alternatively, perhaps Raleigh himself stands for the ocean; he is dependant to the Queen and without her is futile; Raleigh’s speaker likens himself to an icicle when “the soonn shines”. The moon symbolism not only highlights Elizabeth’s authority as Queen, but portrays an unattainable, cold remoteness to create an image novel to the Elizabethans: one of feminine power.

To finish, I would like to return to The Shepheardes Calender. Spenser is rightly remembered as a “patriotic poet”, though it is not solely through his dedications to the Queen and projections of Eliza that he has gained this title. Chaucer is alluded to as paternal teacher in the June eclogue in order to draw attention to Spenser’s relationship with the ‘first’ poet of the nation: 30 “The God of shepheards Tityrus is dead, Who taught me homely, as I can, to make.

Spenser looks to the past as he expresses gratitude to Chaucer, affirming his patriotic identity as a poet, much like he imitates Virgil and Theocritus to establish his work in the pastoral genre. He does the same in the Faerie Queene; his patriotism is showed through the dedication to Elizabeth while he embarks on “the greatest work which the soul of man is capable to perform”: the heroic poem, in the words of John Dryden. 31 It is apt that in the middle of The Shepheardes Calender he places “Eliza, Queen of shepheards all” who reigns in this pastoral idyll. The pastoral setting may translate to reflect an ideal civilisation, an Arcadia, or escape, suggesting that Eliza, or Elizabeth here too is Queen. This rounds a circle to the Elizabeth-Astraea image where the coming of a Second Golden Age is made true. Perhaps The Shepheardes Calender too may be read as an image of the golden days which Elizabeth brought.

The influence of Chaucer, Virgil, and Theocritus leads to the question as to what is imitation and what innovation. The presence of Chaucer in Spenser’s simile “like April shoure” is undeniable. The Prologue to The Canterbury Tales begins “Whan that Aprill, with his shoures sootes”, evoking imagery of spring and new growth 30 31

E. Spenser, ‘The Shepheardes Calender’, June; p. 442.

J. Buxton, p. 239.

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following the “The droghte of March”. 32 Spenser’s imitation suggests a new spring with leaves of the “new poetry” breaking through the winter ground of the previous centuries. Furthermore, Spenser’s imitation of pastoral forebears Theocritus and Virgil is clear; E.K. introduces the August eclogue as “a delectable controversie, made in imitation of that in Theocritus: whereto also Virgile fashioned his third and seventh Aeglogue.” 33 The use of the pastoral genre describing shepherds, their flocks, song competitions, and the use of bucolic language is imitation.

Where Spenser is innovative is his writing in English, particularly his presentation of the rustic language of shepherds. Buxton writes that “in 1579 everything about The Shepheardes Calender must have seemed bold in the extreme”. 34 However, it seems that not “everything” was audacious. While Spenser’s innovations were significant, imitation enabled such boldness to be received as skilful and acceptable, to the extent that imitation was needed to balance the innovation. Ultimately, Spenser struck the balance between imitation and innovation, because he gained a place on the pastoral pedestal and is described as “not inferior to the two former” by John Dryden. 35 The images discussed in this essay have long been associated with Queen Elizabeth I. Soon after her death, the identity of Britannia begins to emerge, though we find this closely linked to the image of Elizabeth to suggest that the identity of Britannia is more or less the Queen herself. The frontispiece to Drayton’s 1612 topographical poem of England and Wales, Poly-Olbion, portrays a striking resemblance between Drayton’s Queen and Elizabeth. Parallels are drawn through the classicism in the architecture and portrayal of laurel leaves; fertility and virginity through the Bacchus imagery; peace and stability from the protection of the classical soldiers; and the ocean and maritime empire. This Queen is thus Astraea; Cynthia, Belphoebe, Diana; the May Queen; and, bringer of stability, all encompassed into one image of feminine sovereignty.

G. Chaucer, http://www.librarius.com/canttran/genpro/genpro001-042.htm, accessed 17.09.23.

E. Spenser, ‘The Shepheardes Calender’, August; p. 448.

34 J. Buxton, p. 245.

35 Ibid. p. 236.

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Bibliography Books Buxton, J., Elizabethan Taste, London: Macmillan, 1963.

Davies, J., Complete Poems, ed. A. B. Grosart, London: Leopold Classic Library, 1876.

Raleigh, W., ‘The 11th: and last booke of the Ocean to Scinthia’, The Poems of Sir Walter Ralegh, London: Routledge, 1951.

Shakespeare, W., The Tempest, ed. V. Mason Vaughan, A. Vaughan, London: Bloomsbury, 2011.

Spenser, E., ‘Faerie Queene’, The Poetical Works of Edmund Spenser, ed. J. Smith, E. de Selincourt, London: Oxford University Press, 1921.

Spenser, E., ‘The Shepheardes Calender’, The Poetical Works of Edmund Spenser, ed. J. Smith, E. de Selincourt, London: Oxford University Press, 1921.

Yates, F., ‘Queen Elizabeth I as Astraea’, in Astraea: The Imperial Theme in the Sixteenth Century, London: Routledge, 1975.

Journal articles Gottfried, R., ‘The Pictorial Element in Spenser’s Poetry’, ELH, vol. 19, no. 3, 1952.

Websites Byrd, W., https://www.lyricsondemand.com/w/williambyrdlyrics/thissweetandmerrymonthofmaylyrics.html, accessed 15.09.23.

Chaucer, G., http://www.librarius.com/canttran/genpro/genpro001-042.htm, accessed 17.09.23.

Hilliard, N., https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2019/feb/20/elizabethan-treasures-miniatures-by-hilliard-and-oliver-review-nationalportrait-gallery-london, accessed 29.08.23.

Johnson, E., https://www.cpdl.org/wiki/index.php/Eliza_is_the_fairest_queen_(Edward_Johnson), accessed 29.08.23.

Peele, G., https://www.poetryexplorer.net/poem.php?id=10114469, accessed 15.09.23.

Victoria and Albert Museum, https://collections.vam.ac.uk/item/O81995/portrait-of-queen-elizabeth-i-portrait-miniature-hilliard-nicholas/, accessed 26.08.23.

The Rainbow Portrait of Elizabeth I which hangs in her childhood residence of Hatfield House.

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Culture & Education of the Aristocracy in Elizabethan England Charlotte L (L6) Education in Elizabethan England was not compulsory, and it was considered a privilege to have an education and literacy. The basic structure of the schooling system consisted of preparatory schools, grammar schools, and universities. A good example of someone who went through this school system is William Cecil, who was, as with many others, focused on the classics at Cambridge. After finishing University, he went in a different direction and studied law in London. He went on to be an influential administrator under Elizabeth I. Aside from the mainstream education system, private tutors were used frequently, especially amongst the wealthiest of society. Many aristocrats were taught individually by private tutors in a variety of subjects including manners and behaviour, including Edward de Vere who became influential in English literature.

Schools focused on classic subjects, especially Latin. This was so that students could read religious texts, and attend University. The curriculum taught by tutors usually consisted of Latin, Greek, Rhetoric, Logic and Philosophy which is similar to the trivium which was part of the education in the Holy Roman Empire.

Aristocrats such as Robert Devereux who studied Latin, rhetoric, philosophy, and history eventually became very politically influential nobles. Devereux was the Lord Lieutenant of Ireland after successful military operations.

However, private tutors were also able to incorporate the Arts into the curriculum of their students with subjects such as Literature, Poetry, Music and often times foreign languages like French and Italian. Philip Sidney studied music, poetry, and classical literature as well as the classical studies. Because he was introduced to the arts at a younger age, he went on to influence poetry and English literature.

In examining the culture and education of the upper classes in Elizabethan society, it is also instructive to consider how the lower and middle classes lived. In understanding the education and culture of the lower classes, it is possible to fully understand the opportunities and opulence of the Elizabethan aristocracy. The education of the lower class was extremely limited, but they did learn basic reading skills in small local schools funded by the church in order to read the Bible. One important figure who was not formally educated was Francis Drake. He was not an aristocrat, but had an enormous impact on English culture. He did not receive any formal education, and learnt his maritime skills growing up with hands-on experience. This included growing up on the coast and having jobs on boats, and joining an expedition to the Caribbean where he had to fight against pirates.

Surprisingly, he eventually contributed to England by helping to defeat the Spanish Armada, helping to establish England’s colonies in America, and sailing around the world. These achievements helped England’s sovereignty, power, prestige and wealth. This was unusual for middle or lower class people in Elizabethan England. Most of the poorer children had no opportunity to study professions. Only private tutors were able to have individual lessons specific for their student. Therefore, few children were able to experience such a broad curriculum. There weren’t just differences between the children of the aristocracy and the lower classes, but also between boys and girls. Only boys were able to attend school, whilst girls were not generally taught. In 1600, only 10% of women 14

were literate. Having no education led to them mostly working as housekeepers, servants and farmers, which were physically demanding jobs with long working hours. And uneducated women bore the task of having and raising children instead of working.

Social gatherings were without a doubt the most important part of culture for the aristocracy in Elizabethan England and there were several different activities that were especially widespread. Most of them were reserved only for the richest of society and inaccessible for everyone else, ensuring that the nobles stayed among themselves.

An excellent example of this is hunting, which was one of the most popular pastimes amongst the aristocracy and even women were able to participate in it. It was a very elitist sport because it required ownership of forests, chases or parks to take place. There was different prey that required different types of equipment, strategy and hunters. For example, boar hunting was the most dangerous type of hunt and only men with spears and dogs were able to hunt them. Another variation was falconry, which was a personal favourite of Queen Elizabeth I herself. She often hosted nobles while hunting with the trained birds. Generally speaking, hunting was more about the social aspect than about getting food.

However, there were pastimes that became accessible to various different social and economic backgrounds during the time of Elizabeth I. Theatre, for example, shifted away from court theatres and there were emerging theatres available for the general public. Still the experience depended on one’s social background as the nobles were able to comfortably sit in their lodges to watch, while most other people had to stand in a big pit right in front of the stage. Playwrights also depended greatly on the nobles as their patrons because they otherwise couldn’t follow that profession. That means that the aristocracy still had a big influence on the arts, but the accessibility for others improved.

Another aspect of the arts also developed because of the aristocracy, and these are the orchestral ensembles that we know today that actually have their roots in the time of Elizabeth I. During her reign, music became much more complex, more creative and there was greater variety in style but also in instruments. The music that was composed for Queen Elizabeth I and other nobles was the main reason behind this development. Because the aristocracy craved new entertainment for its social gatherings, their composers had to invent new styles which is why we now have big orchestras with many different instruments. Generally, you could say that orchestras would not exist without the aristocracy’s money as every artist needed a wealthy patron to pay for new instruments to be learnt.

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There were also social events that resemble football matches in today’s world where many more nobles came together and these were tournaments that the aristocracy celebrated, for example tilting matches called jousts.

The focus wasn’t on the actual exercise aspect of it but more on the social one as these festivals resembled more a parade. The main focus of these events was of course the entertainment of the aristocracy that paid for them but they were also used to demonstrate a united and rich court to foreign countries and the public, which means they held political importance as well being a big part of the social life.

All of these social gatherings were filled with opulence and were incredibly majestic but of course most people didn’t actually live like that. The common people of the Lower and Middle classes lived a life of far less luxury. Though they had almost no free time, they did enjoy public entertainment such as blood sports occasionally. Religious holidays were an important part of their culture, as it gave them the opportunity to celebrate something with the community on days they did not spend working. Often, they practiced songs and dancing such as Morris Dancing as part of their folk traditions on their days off as well.

In conclusion, the aristocracy lived a rich life full of luxuries that included having lots of spare time to socialize with one another but also having a broad education that included learning about a variety of subject groups and topics. If we may compare our lives to theirs we can see that there are quite a lot of similarities as we also are fortunate enough to get a broad education that offers us a wide perspective; but also, that we are keeping up many pastimes and traditions that started during Elizabeth I’s reign.

Ingatestone Hall, Essex: the Catholic family here were patrons of Byrd’s and it’s likely that some of the Catholic music was written for secret use here.

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William Byrd, the musician Michael Butterfield (CR, Music Department, College Organist) On July 4th this year, we marked the 400th anniversary of the passing of William Byrd, a prominent English composer renowned for his diverse body of work, encompassing compositions for choirs, chamber ensembles, and solo keyboard instruments. Byrd’s creative output is estimated to include more than 470 pieces, spanning genres including masses, motets, madrigals, keyboard music, and consort music. His compositions are celebrated for their intricate complexity and enduring beauty, leaving a profound impact on the realm of English music.

As a young chorister, I had the privilege of singing his Latin choral motets and mass settings nearly every day within the liturgical rhythms of a Catholic cathedral. At the time, I remained unaware that this cherished choral tradition had once faced severe persecution. In 1558, during Byrd’s lifetime, Queen Elizabeth I ascended to the throne, ushering in a Protestant era in England as a reaction to her Roman Catholic predecessor, Queen Mary I, often referred to as ‘Bloody Mary.’

While much of Byrd’s English choral compositions were publicly performed and celebrated in Queen Elizabeth’s grand palaces and chapels by the Chapel Royal choir, Byrd himself, a devout Roman Catholic, led a dual existence. Many of his most significant and intricate works were composed in Latin for the Roman Catholic liturgy. Unlike public Anglican services, Catholic worship in England was clandestinely conducted by a minority community who converted hidden spaces, like rooms and basements, into chapels, all while striving to evade punitive measures or fines.

Byrd’s magnum opus, “Ave Verum Corpus” for four voices, would have been sung in secret by four close friends or family members within the suppressed Catholic minority community. This act carried the risk of fines or punishments since established Catholic church choirs were not tolerated.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R3vuU7XAaUM

In addition to Byrd’s extensive sacred compositions, his secular repertoire is equally vibrant, especially catering to consort musicians and keyboard players. In the preface of his work “Psalmes, Songs and Sonnets,” Byrd eloquently states, “Wherein I hope you shall find Musicke to content every humour either melancholy, merry, or a blend of both,” persuading his readers that communal music-making belongs to many parts of everyday life.

In harmony with his devotion to contrapuntal writing was his spirit of innovation and abstract expressionism.

His “Fantasia for four voices” could be adapted for various instruments, with none more authentic than a viola da gamba consort.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sZh-NN-T1uY

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Why didn’t late Renaissance England produce greater painting and sculpture?

Ava H (Re) In the period of William Byrd’s lifetime, high quality painting and sculpture in England was notable for its near absence, at least compared with the splendid achievements of Italy, Spain or the Netherlands. This is due to several factors, most of which arose from changes in attitudes to Religion and Science, and their influence on society and culture. These took effect in numerous ways, each of which I will explore further below.

A significant factor influencing this decline was the growing prominence of Science. During William Byrd’s lifetime, rapid developments in scientific research and understanding, later referred to as the scientific revolution (at some point pinpointed as 1543-1687!) lead to a greater prominence of Science and invention. This might be seen as being in opposition to the creativity and imagination of Artists, as developments in Mathematics, Astronomy, Physics, Biology and Chemistry transformed the views of society about the natural world. Many major discoveries and movements followed, the most significant of which being the Copernican Revolution, the events of which I will describe briefly in the paragraph below.

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The Copernican Revolution was a movement of scientific understanding concerning our interpretation of the universe which emerged following a series of discoveries made by Nicolaus Copernicus, which showed evidence that our previous understanding was incorrect. The evidence caused a shift in the field of astronomy from a geocentric understanding of the universe, one that was centred around Earth, to a heliocentric understanding, centred around the Sun. This was rather an unwelcome discovery as, due to the strong influence of religion in that period, the belief concerning this area of astronomy was that the Earth was at the centre, not the Sun, as stated in the Holy Scriptures. Copernicus risked persecution by the Church due to the controversy created by his research. This is another sign showing the great influence religion had and of the conflict between Science and Religion.

Another factor which I believe is as significant, if not more so, than the previous factor concerns the monarch. The time surrounding William Byrd’s death belonged to the Jacobean period (1603-1625). In this period, it was the belief of society that God selected the monarch and bestowed on them ultimate power on earth.

A king only had to answer to God and could therefore do as he pleased. It was believed that by disobeying the king you were disobeying God, this was a crime known as sacrilege. The monarch at this time was James I and he was a committed protestant, as was his predecessor, Elizabeth l. As a protestant, James wanted religion to be more modest, his churches and worship to be of a more sombre and simple form, unlike Catholicism which was considered much more ostentatious.

Up to the Reformation, art mostly depicted religious subjects, and was often commissioned for display by wealthy patrons as a mark of both their wealth and religious faith. However, many protestants refused to allow the presence of paintings or sculptures in churches. Protestants believed that images of Christ, Madonna and saints could lead to the worship of idols, therefore disconnecting people from God. During the protestant reformation in sixteenth century England, puritan iconoclasts destroyed an estimated 97% of religious art in England, a total enhanced by further destruction during the English Civil War (1642-1651). As most traditional religious art was mostly frowned on for around 100 years, many English artists ceased to continue the tradition, and this led to a great decrease in English art.

Though good quality artwork was still produced in England in that period – mainly portraits of the monarchs and other wealthy families – it was little enough compared to the impressive quality and quantity of art being created abroad. Although the majority of England was Protestant, the Catholic church remained dominant in almost all of Southern Europe, including Italy, Spain, Austria, parts of the Balkans as well as in countries like Poland. Catholicism being a more ostentatious religion with greater use for varied religious art meant that Catholic countries produced far more monumental, good quality art. The English renaissance (15501660), though producing few notable works of visual arts, produced outstanding literature and music instead, which almost made up for the lack in sculpture and painting. The English renaissance and the Italian renaissance differ in several ways. Visual arts in the English renaissance were much less significant than that of the Italian renaissance and this can be seen in the general lack of quality pictorial works dating from this period.

In conclusion, this conflict between Science and Religion and its impact more widely on society and culture in England around Byrd’s lifetime, resulted in a noticeable decline in both the quality and quantity of art produced, particularly the visual arts such as sculpture and painting.

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Vigilate: Cautious Catholicism in the Cantiones Sacrae of William Byrd Josh Lynbeck (CR, History Department)

William Byrd (c.1540-1623), arguably the greatest of the English Renaissance composers, made important and lasting contributions to the Anglican musical tradition. As a Gentleman of the Chapel Royal from 1572, he was required to produce works which glorified both God and the monarch, and undoubted his musical genius has led to the enduring popularity of these works up to the present day. Byrd’s simple and straightforward Short Service and his significantly more complex and demanding Great Service are both masterpieces of Anglican liturgical music, but they, along with Byrd’s two other Anglican services, are dwarfed in both number and importance by Byrd’s contributions to the Catholic musical tradition. For William Byrd, sometime court favourite to Elizabeth I and James I, was a not-so-secret Catholic, and his devotion to God, sometimes at the expense of loyalty to his monarch, is evident in his music.

Byrd was born into a nominally Protestant family, and there are traces of strident Protestantism in some of his (disputed) early compositions, including an English translation of a hymn by Martin Luther. 1 His early compositions while choirmaster at Lincoln Cathedral, including his Short Service, are also uncontroversial in their doctrine. There are signs, however, that even at this early stage of his career Byrd was capable of courting controversy. The Puritan influenced church authorities at Lincoln twice censured Byrd in 1569, temporarily suspended his salary, and issued a directive on his use of the organ. 2 It is possible that Byrd’s musical innovations, including his use of elaborate polyphony, were the cause of this disfavour, despite his seemingly outward conformity to mainstream Anglicanism.

However, from the 1570s onward, around the time of his appointment to the Chapel Royal in 1572, there is a distinct change in Byrd’s musical and religious outlook. He was known to be an associate of prominent recusant Catholics such as Lord Thomas Paget from this time, and his wife Juliana appears on recusancy lists for the first time in 1577. 3 The 1570s was an increasingly difficult time for English recusants. The passage of the papal bull Regnans in Excelcis in 1570, which excommunicated Elizabeth I, combined with the covert missionary activities of the Jesuits and priests trained at the English College at Douai, led to the English authorities coming to regard Catholicism as synonymous with treason. The tolerant aspects of the Elizabethan religious settlement now appeared in danger of collapse in the face of these counter-Reformation forces.

The hymn being Erhalt uns, Herr, bei deinem Wort (Keep us, Lord, faithful to your word) which contains a line translated as ‘From Turk and Pope defend us Lord’.

2 J. Harley, William Byrd: Gentleman of the Chapel Royal, (Abingdon, 2016), pp. 38-40.

3 ibid, p. 74.

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1575 saw the publication of Byrd’s first Cantiones Sacrae, dedicated to the Queen for use in the Chapel Royal. A collaborative project with the then venerable English composer Thomas Tallis, Byrd contributed seventeen Latin motets, one for each year of the reign of Elizabeth I. The Latin text of these works is significant: Latin was outlawed for use in the music of the Church of England expect in universities, public schools, and (most importantly for Byrd) the Chapel Royal. 4 The ‘High Church’ ethos of these important institutions hints at both Elizabeth’s religious policy at this time, and also provides reasons for Byrd’s survival as a recusant. High Church worship in these settings provided an outlet for the Catholic sympathies of many of England’s most prominent noble and gentry families while not disturbing the outward Reformed tradition of the rest of the English faithful. It also served to reassure foreign ambassadors of England’s religious tolerance, at a time when Elizabeth’s position was far from secure, in light of events such as the papal bull of 1570, and the hostility of European Catholic monarchs. This environment, combined with Elizabeth’s own fondness for music, ensured that a musician and composer of Byrd’s skill could, at this point, endure despite his Catholic leanings.

The 1580s, however, saw both a change of policy, and a change of direction for Byrd. From 1589 to 1591, Byrd published a further thirty-seven Latin motets. These were not, however, intended for use in the Chapel Royal, his membership of which was temporarily suspended. 5 By this time the religious and political landscape of England had changed. The capture, trial, and execution of Edmund Campion, a prominent Catholic missionary to England, in 1581 reaffirmed the dangers of recusancy when taken too far. The discovery and failure of the Throckmorton Plot in 1583 and the Babington Plot in 1586, both attempts to depose and potentially kill Elizabeth I and replace her with the Catholic Mary Queen of Scots, reasserted in the minds of English Protestants the link between Catholicism and treason. Finally, the defeat of the Spanish Armada in 1588 ended the threat of a literal Catholic invasion of England, and secured Elizabeth’s position as a Protestant monarch. In this environment, English recusants such as Byrd began to look for ways of expressing their feelings about their plight in a more subtle fashion. For Byrd the Latin motet provided this outlet. The textual and musical choices made in his later Cantiones Sacrae (1589-1591) reflect this new outlook.

In terms of the texts chosen for his music, Byrd sought out biblical passages which highlighted the suffering of the Israelites, the Second Coming, and martyrdom. These were all common themes in recusant writings of the period, but Byrd’s use of biblical texts allowed him to make his points about the plight of English recusants in a veiled manner. Perhaps his most famous motet of this period is his setting of the first four verses of Psalm 78 (Deus venerunt gentes) 6 : God, the heathen are come into thine inheritance; thy holy temple have they defiled; they have laid O Jerusalem on heaps. e dead bodies of thy servants have they given to be meat unto the fowls of the heaven, the flesh of thy Th saints unto the beasts of the earth.

Their blood have they shed like water round about Jerusalem; and there was none to bury them.

We are become a reproach to our neighbours, a scorn and derision to them that are round about us.

‘Jerusalem’ here is likely England, and ‘the heathen’ is thus Protestantism. The second two verses, however, contain the most striking contemporary references. They are almost certainly an allusion to the brutal execution of Father Edmund Campion in 1581. Campion was tried for treason and executed by hanging, drawing, and J. Kerman, ‘Music and Politics: The Case of William Byrd (1540-1623)’, Proceedings of the American Philosophical Society, Vol. 114, No. 3 (September 2000), pp. 275-287, p. 281.

5 J. Kerman, The Masses and Motets of William Byrd, Vol. 1, (Berkeley, 1980), p. 49.

6 Psalm 79 in the King James Version.

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quartering, and his body was then nailed to a gate at Tyburn, where it was consumed by birds (and ravaged by relic hunters). 7 The event shocked the Catholic community, referred to in the final line of the piece (‘we are become a reproach to our neighbours’), which was also allegedly the source of Campion’s final words upon the scaffold. 8 Byrd thus both commemorated and glorified Campion’s martyrdom, while also expressing his sorrow and frustration at the times in which he lived.

Byrd was capable, however, of adopting a more defiant tone. In 1583 Phillipe de Monte, imperial Kapellmeister to the Holy Roman Emperor Rudolf II, sent Byrd a motet based on the words of Psalm 136. 9 Byrd rearranged de Monte’s verses, providing a defiant continuation of de Monte’s setting: How shall we sing the Lord’s song in a strange land?

If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget her cunning.

I f I do not remember thee, let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth; if I prefer not Jerusalem above my chief joy. emember, O Lord, the children of Edom in the day of Jerusalem; who said, Rase it, rase it, even to the R foundation thereof.

Musically, too, Byrd was capable of expressing discontent and grief at the state of the world. Again, his Deus venerunt Gentes is among the most striking examples of this. The opening words, a cry to God to be heard, are sung first by the lead tenor, and then repeated by the other four voices in harmony, before, all five voices repeat ‘deus’ a third time, led by the lead tenor once more. The result is a sense of desperation, a fervent plea for help.

The section dealing with ‘the birds of the air’ tearing at the flesh of the martyrs in punctuated by harsh, jerking rhythms and dissonant chord structures, reminiscent of cruel carrion birdsong and the rending of flesh from bone.

The most subtle example of both Byrd’s musical genius and his Catholic faith, comes from his setting of the Ave verum from his later Gradulia. These were more openly Catholic compositions, likely composed around the time of the accession of James I in 1603, a time of hope for recusants due to James’ perceived Catholic sympathies.

Byrd’s setting of the first line of this piece, in contrast to many other compositions, places the emphasis on ‘ver’ of verum, as opposed to the ‘cor’ of corpus. 10 By doing so he places the emphasis on the truth of the eucharist, a direct reference to the Catholic doctrine on transubstantiation, and the belief in the real presence at the eucharist. Unfortunately for Byrd and his fellow recusants, the accession of James did not lead to a restoration of Catholicism, as they may have hoped. But Byrd’s compositions continue to provide both musical delight and a fascinating example of the interplay between music, religion and politics, the courage and conviction of those facing persecution, and their ingenuity in expressing their discontent.

Kerman, ‘Music and Politics’, p. 278.

D. Trendell, ‘Aspects of William Byrd’s Musical Recusancy’, The Musical Times, Vol. 148, No. 1900 (Autumn 2007), pp. 27-50, p. 27.

9 Psalm 137 in the King James Version. Kerman, ‘Music and Politics’, p. 280.

10 C.f. the later version by Mozart, and the (much) later version by Elgar for variations on the emphasis of these words.

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Graffiti of Philip Howard, imprisoned in Tower of London for Catholicism (later canonised).

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Byrd’s personal religion in a time of turbulence Lawrence C (U6) William Byrd lived from c1540 to 1623, where he was able to witness the change in religious direction as the Church of England separated further away from Catholicism towards the Protestant reform of the religion. Byrd is considered to be one of the greatest religious composers of all time, so how did the devout practiced Catholic deal with his religion in a time of Turbulence?

From 1547 to 1553, the theology and liturgy of the Church of England became markedly Protestant. This began slowly throughout the reign of Edward VI, with acts such as the Book of Common Prayer in 1549. After his reign, the acceleration of Protestant reformation against Catholicism increased with some serious laws and acts. Elizabeth I is known for intense acts and laws against Catholicism and any behaviour against her personal beliefs in Protestantism. For example, under Elizabeth I in 1577, there were laws passed condemning recusancy, which was the refusal to attend Anglican services.

William Byrd was a devout lifelong Roman Catholic and he moved with his family to Harlington in Middlesex in 1577, which could show that his strong religious beliefs caused him to prefer privacy outside of London where laws such as the recusancy laws were more heavily controlled. During the 1580’s, the Protestant reforms of Elizabeth I were heavy across the Nation, with Protestants being arrested, tried, and executed as traitors not Heretics. By moving away from the centre of power, Byrd’s relationship with the Queen was not tarnished, meaning that his personal religion could be continued.

Byrd refused to let go of the Catholic beliefs that he so proudly held, and during the height of the English reformation, where the Church of England was reducing Catholic practice, it no longer became uncommon for practicing Catholics to be persecuted. Byrd did not only like the privacy of living away from London in order to stay safe with his family, but he was also able to safely compose his music away from the public Church of England’s eye. For example, in 1593 when Byrd lived in Essex, he produced the three masses, which were Latin compositions where Byrd attempted to provide correct Catholic teachings through music. Byrd was forced to keep his Catholicism secret; however, he was secretly expressing his religious views through his music.

One example where Byrd did not need to hide his religious views was when he produced Motets for Elizabeth I alongside his inspiration Thomas Talis, where Byrd produced 18 in total.

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Byrd’s religion was only seemingly inhibiting as he could not outwardly exclaim his strong Catholic beliefs during the high Protestantism within England. His religion did not prevent him from composing a great deal of music, although sometimes having to be composed with English words; this was Byrd’s less preferable technique of song writing and composition.

All of Byrd’s composition is regarded as high-quality music, however Byrd seemed to have maintained his highest consistency with the use of sacred Latin language. Byrd felt a deeper connection to the use of the Madrigal, songs through the use of Latin language or ‘the mother tongue’. Byrd would commonly have to compose in private environments or sometimes enclosed domestic performances, this was because his use of the Latin language, mixed with the Mass style and sacred Catholic teachings within his music could not be public. If Byrd was too open about his religion, he was in danger of being outcast, persecuted and possibly seized and killed by the Protestant powers at the time.

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Elizabethan Punishments Lottie J (L6) During William Byrd’s lifetime, a wide variety of capital and corporal punishments were used to quell lawbreakers. These could be severe and gory, often occurring in public to deter others and even entertain. In this article, I will look at some of the most shocking and common punishments that William Byrd managed to avoid!

One of the most famous and gruesome punishments was being hanged, drawn and quartered. This was used for people convicted of high treason. The condemned was first tied to a type of sledge and dragged by a horse to the gallows. When in London, this was usually from Newgate Prison in London to Tyburn, which was a threemile journey. Onlookers would jeer and throw rubbish at the criminal. They were then hanged from a height that was too short to break their neck until they were almost dead from asphyxiation. They would be cut down alive to face brutal mutilation. Their privates were cut off and thrown into a fire in front of them, followed by their intestines, which were dragged out of a wound from their groin to sternum. It isn’t known exactly when people lost consciousness, so some may have lived until their heart was cut out and burnt. The “quartering” acted as the ultimate deterrent. The dead man’s head was cut off and his body was cut into four pieces, which often meant his arms and legs were cut off. These were then parboiled in spices to preserve them so that they could be taken on a tour to show people the power of the monarch and ensure nobody would dare challenge the king. The heads of prominent traitors were then placed on spikes on London Bridge or the Tower of London. For decency, if you can believe such a horrendous punishment was considered this, women traitors were instead burnt at the stake.

Eight men were executed in this way on the 30th January 1606 for their involvement in the Gunpowder Plot. Guy Fawkes however managed to cheat his execution by jumping from the scaffold while wearing the noose, breaking his neck and killing himself before he could be quartered.

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Another method of execution was burning at the stake. This was commonly used for heretics and to weaken opposing religions, as well as those accused of witchcraft. When burnt at the stake, most victims would actually die of asphyxiation from smoke inhalation instead of the flames themselves, yet this was still an excruciating death. In some instances, the suffering of the victim was alleviated by attaching a container of gunpowder to them, which would explode when heated in the fire and kill the victim instantly. A chain noose could also be placed on the victim so that they were effectively hanged instead, killing them more quickly. This was famously popular under Queen Mary I, who burned over 300 Protestants and religious dissidents during her five year reign, but this became less common during Queen Elizabeth I’s golden age as she tried to bring greater stability, requiring an improvement in relations between the different religions. For example, the Act of Uniformity passed in 1559, which restored the 1552 version of the English Prayer Book, allowed both the Catholic and Protestant interpretations of communion even though Queen Elizabeth I herself was Protestant. The 39 Articles of 1563, which underpin the Church of England, are a compromise of Roman Catholicism and Protestantism.

There was still Catholic persecution, but she reduced religious executions to 183 deaths in her 45-year reign. As William Byrd himself was a Catholic, he benefitted from this. Indeed, despite being closely acquainted with many Catholics involved in treasonable activities, his loyalty was never doubted, and he was allowed to live freely and publish his music. Elizabeth I even granted him and composer Thomas Tallis a joint monopoly for the importing, printing, publishing and sale of music and for printing music paper.

The pillory was a very common punishment, used for crimes like perjury, dishonest trading or drunkenness.

The criminal stood with their head and hands locked into holes in a wooden plank. The public could then pelt the criminal with rotten vegetables or eggs. Stones were supposedly banned but some criminals could be killed in the stocks when heavier projectiles were used. Most people were left in the stocks for an hour, typically between 12 and 1 o’clock as this was the common dining hour for most labourers so the streets were more crowded then, letting people feel they had achieved justice by taking part and acting as a deterrent, as the punishment was very visible. The pillory relied strongly on public opinion as for some it was merely unpleasant whereas for others it could be a death sentence, making it applicable to multiple crimes and helping to appease the public after a crime, as they could vent their hatred and frustration however they deemed fit, pacifying the public.

In conclusion, the Elizabethan era was home to many brutal punishments, designed to terrify and subdue the public. Many crimes were punished with cruel deaths, physical punishments like whipping or humiliating acts like the use of the pillory. A glimmer of hope came with Elizabeth I’s more lenient attitude to Catholics despite being Protestant, reducing the number of deaths for religious reasons. Later, further hope came when James I, a Protestant, became king and improved Catholics’ quality of life, prompting many new works by Byrd, like two books of Gradualia dedicated to Catholics ennobled at the start of James I’s reign: Henry Howard, earl of Northampton, and John Petre, 1st Baron Petre. Unfortunately, though religious persecution is something that has ebbed and flowed, it has never been completely expunged, as we are all too aware in today’s world.

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‘Good King Bess?’ – gender and the royal succession in Byrd’s England Alistair Hamilton (CR, History Department)

Queen Elizabeth I: the last surviving child of Henry VIII, who ruled England for 45 years from 1558-1603.

She is known in traditional school histories of England for being only the third female monarch since the Conquest (the others being Empress Matilda, and Elizabeth’s older half-sister Mary I); for seeing off an invasion from Catholic Spain in the form of the Armada; and, of course, for never marrying. Known as ‘the Virgin Queen’ and ‘Good Queen Bess’ in her own lifetime, the traditional narrative runs that she defied social and political expectations of the time to rule in her own right as monarch.

It should be noted that this was not without precedent. As already seen, Elizabeth was the third female English monarch since 1066. Matilda, eldest child of Henry I, technically succeeded her father to the English throne in 1135, though she was never crowned. Mary Tudor, eldest daughter of Henry VIII (by his first wife, Catharine of Aragon) became Queen in 1553 following a plot to put Lady Jane Grey on the throne (this ‘Nine Days’ Queen’ technically makes Elizabeth our fourth queen, though she is discounted by many given her weak claim to the line of succession). Perhaps, therefore, Elizabeth’s accession was not so strange after all?

There were differences, though: Matilda, living four centuries earlier, faced entrenched opposition from nobles and rivals who thought a woman could and should not rule, and who saw her inheritance as a chance to seize power for themselves. For many historians, she claimed the English throne through the period of “The Anarchy” (1138-1153) – normally classified as a war of succession – and never held undisputed royal authority.

Mary I, by contrast, was the first undisputed Queen Regnant: that is, a queen ruling with all the powers of the sovereign, rather than as a consort to her husband. In many ways, it was Mary who laid the way for Elizabeth’s succession, having ruled in her own right as Henry’s eldest daughter. She differed from her younger sister in one crucial way, however (besides her religion): she married. Mary’s marriage with Philip II of Spain in 1554 was an 28

unpopular, childless and, as far as the country’s fortunes were concerned, a rather unfortunate union. England was dragged into Spanish wars on the Continent, losing Calais – the last English foothold in France – in the process, and Philip spent little time in his wife’s kingdom. However, Mary was clear in upholding her right to choose her spouse: when Parliament protested against the match, she responded that they were ‘not accustomed to use such language to the Kings of England’, making a clear comment on their hypocrisy in their treatment of her, despite her right to rule.

It is worth noting that both she and Elizabeth were in fact potentially illegitimate when they ascended the throne, according to a technicality arising from a Parliamentary Act of 1536. As Henry VIII could not, by English law, have been lawfully married to both Catherine of Aragon and Anne Boleyn (at least one marriage must have been unlawful, as English law could not conceive of lawful marriage to more than one person), Elizabeth and/or Mary must have been illegitimate children and so unlawful successors. The only basis by which they could inherit the throne was via a subsequent Parliamentary Act in 1543. Why did this matter? Because Parliament, and English political thinking in general, was already deeply uncomfortable with the idea of an unmarried female ruler.

The Scottish Calvinist preacher John Knox wrote in his The First Blast of the Trumpet Against the Monstruous Regiment of Women that “God hath revealed to some in this our age that it is more than a monster in nature that a woman should reign and bear empire above man.” There remained a widespread conviction, reinforced by both custom and teaching, that, while men were naturally endowed with authority, women were temperamentally, intellectually, and morally unfit to govern. Men saw themselves as rational beings; they saw women as creatures likely to be dominated by impulse and passion. Gentlemen were trained in eloquence and the arts of war; gentlewomen were urged to keep silent and attend to their needlework. In men of the upper classes a will to dominate was admired or at least assumed; in women it was viewed as dangerous or grotesque.

To counter this way of thinking, lawyers for the crown fell back on a mystical legal theory known as “the king’s two bodies.” When she ascended the throne, according to this theory, Elizabeth’s whole being was profoundly altered: her mortal “body natural” was wedded to an immortal “body politic.” “I am but one body, naturally considered,” Elizabeth declared in her accession speech, “though by [God’s] permission a Body Politic to govern.” Her body of flesh was subject to the imperfections of all human beings (including those specific to womankind), but the body politic was timeless and perfect. Hence in theory the queen’s gender was no threat to the stability and glory of the nation, much to the relief of Parliament, as she transcended the perceived limitations of her earthly gender.

With this intellectual speed-bump negotiated, Elizabeth’s reign could continue unhindered. In the end, of course, Elizabeth never married, taking instead the country itself as her spouse (as the popular legend had it).

“Good Queen Bess” might have posed a political problem at the moment of her accession, but she left the country more intellectually capable of adjusting to female rule in the centuries to come.

Sources Greenblatt, Stephen J. and Morrill, John S.. “Elizabeth I”. Encyclopedia Britannica, 9 Sep. 2023, https://www.britannica.com/biography/Elizabeth-I. Accessed 1 October 2023.

Levine, Mortimer. “A Parliamentary Title to the Crown in Tudor England.” Huntington Library Quarterly, vol. 25, no. 2, 1962, pp. 121–27. JSTOR, https://doi.org/10.2307/3816567. Accessed 1 Oct. 2023.

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Gunpowder; Treason? Or not …

Guy Fawkes night and English Catholicism in the time of William Byrd Alistair Hamilton (CR, History Department) This month, we celebrate that most bizarre of British festivals: Guy Fawkes night. It seems perverse that we should remember the attempted destruction of the Houses of Parliament by letting off fireworks, as depicted so memorably in the 2005 film V for Vendetta. Of all the traditions which have endured through the centuries, it is particularly odd that this commemoration of a foiled act of terrorism and political violence should have retained the popular imagination where others have been removed from the public calendar of holidays (or simply forgotten). [Indeed, “Queene’s Day”, which celebrated Queen Elizabeth I’s 1558 accession to the throne each year on 17th November, was a national holiday in England and Wales for about 300 years before eventually being cast aside. How was this national holiday celebrated? Why, by the building and lighting of huge bonfires, of course!...]

Why, then, has this moment in English history survived where other festivals have been left by the wayside? The Gunpowder Plot was a first in many ways. It was the first major challenge to the authority of the new, Scottish, King: James I and VI. The plot’s discovery was played out in public, with a dramatic pitched battle between the conspirators and royal agents and a series of gruesome executions as its denouement. More seriously, it was the first significant attempt to remove an English monarch on religious grounds; while there had been attempts on monarchs’ lives before, often these had been in the context of war or as part of a succession crisis. A targeted attack on the King and his Parliament, in peacetime, was a new and unwelcome development. The added complexity of a planned invasion with the cognisance of the Spanish crown turned the plotters from a gang of fringe extremists to enemies of the state. Perhaps that is why their infamy lives on.

Was such hysteria justified? Maybe; maybe not. Catholics, by the death of Elizabeth I, made up around 20% of the English population, including William Byrd himself. The potential for mobilisation of this population against the state would have represented a significant threat. This was, however, deeply unlikely. Such was the trauma of the Marian persecutions, and indeed the Elizabethan crackdown on outlawed Catholic worship, that 30

many Catholics simply wished to be left in peace. The likelihood that this increasingly marginalized group in English society would have been willing to rise up against their new monarch was minimal, except in the minds of the plotters, their Spanish backers, and King James’ secretary Robert Cecil. Cecil was convinced that any Catholic was a potential traitor, as technically they owed allegiance to the Pope first and their King second. The plot was such convenient vindication of his views that some historians have suggested that Cecil was actually aware of the plot well before 5th November, but was willing to allow the conspirators to get closer to their explosive goal before arresting them, in order to prove his point to James.

In the short term, James was certainly convinced of the threat Catholics posed. Recusancy fines (levied on those who refused to attend Anglican services, which normally meant Catholics) were raised more regularly and at a higher rate in the years after 1605, and for a time it seemed as if James had become the enemy of Catholics which the original plotters had feared. However, ultimately James relented, warier of long-term resentment and damaging relations with Spain than he was of Catholic freedoms.

The damage to English Catholicism had already been done, however: the Elizabethan Church Settlement of 1559 and the outlawing of Catholic worship was driving Catholicism to the fringes of society, and to the northern and western edges of Britain. This decline continued throughout the century, with only a brief moment of relief under the Catholic James II between 1685 and 1688. By 1700, only about 4% of the English population was Catholic. While the Gunpowder Plot would only have added to contemporary perceptions of Catholicism as dangerous and violent, ultimately the state’s treatment of Catholics did not change significantly as a consequence of the conspiracy. Dramatic and eye-catching though the Gunpowder Plot was, the institutional threat presented

by English Catholics never really matched the hysteria with which the conspiracy was received.

And the fireworks? They only arrived after 1910, as firework manufacturers sought to cash in on what had become a firmly-established community event. The connection with gunpowder is entirely incidental. The bonfires, however, go all the way back to 1605.

Coughton Court, Warwickshire: where Robert Catesby’s parents lived; associated with Gunpowder Plot and equipped with priesthole.

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‘The Great Chain of Being’ – God and man in the Early Modern era Alistair Hamilton (CR, History Department) In 1614, the poet Sir William Leighton presented Teares or Lamentacions of a Sorrowfull Soule – a collection of songs set to his own poetry – to the young Prince Charles, now heir to the English throne. This collection is notable for possibly containing Byrd’s final published works, including ‘Look down, O Lord, on me poor man’ which was arranged for four voices.

As would be expected in Byrd’s time, this piece entails a request for divine favour and knowledge of God from an ordinary pious man.

As is central to Protestant – and by extension in 1614, Anglican – ideas of the divine, the hope and expectation of the text is that God and an individual can have a personal connection, despite the lowly status of humankind. So far, so good.

What we might not expect, however, is how early modern society actually envisaged that relationship between God and man.

The so-called ‘Great Chain of Being’ is the ideological structure used to express this relationship, which in fact encompasses all of creation. As a system, it has its origins with the neoPlatonists in the 3rd Century CE, and fuses Platonic concepts of the Good Form and the Demiurge with the Aristotelian concept of a continuum.

Essentially, the system rests on three key ideas: Plenitude: the universe is full of all its possible diverse forms, and that everything which can exist, does exist. Continuity: each of these infinitely possible forms exists on a scale of similarity, each sharing with its nature on this scale at least one attribute. Gradation: these forms can be arranged in a hierarchical order from the merest definition of existence to God, as the perfect being.

More generally, the divisions on the chain are arranged as follows: God; Angels; Humans; Animals; Vegetables; and Minerals. Within each of these groupings, further division was described and indeed expected.

In Elizabethan and then Jacobean England, that meant the monarch at the head of the chain, sharing with some angelic beings God’s divine appointment, followed by the aristocracy, then the gentry, before the various echelons of the rest of the commons. As God was the architect of all these divisions, so it was right and proper that there should be hierarchical differences between social groups. Differences in status, wealth, and opportunity were both natural and proper, and to challenge these was to challenge the divine plan. [It would take a Civil War and a collapse in state censorship during the 1640s before a radical group called the Levellers would present the first significant challenge to this worldview, which called for political equality for all men older than age 20.]

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However, while these positions on the Chain were static, links between them did exist. There was an expectation that those lower down the Chain would show deference, and perhaps serve, those higher up.

(This will resonate with those of us who studied the triangular diagram of ‘The Feudal System’ in Key Stage 3 at school!) Similarly, there was an expectation that those blessed with higher station would be benevolent and charitable to those lower down. The Elizabethan Poor Law, passed in 1601, has its roots partly in this traditional expectation of charity for those in need, if also in the desire to solve the problem of visible poverty on English streets.

Leighton and Byrd’s ‘poor man’ was undoubtedly lowly, therefore, it was not so unreasonable to hope that divine intervention might be forthcoming, or indeed that those higher up in society might act as the agents of God’s charitable will. From here, eventually, would be born the Enlightenment ideas of a social contract and eventually the modern welfare state.

Sources Image: A representation of the Great Chain of Being, taken from Retorica Christiana, published by Diego Valdes (signed as F. Didacus in the bottom left) in 1579. [Source: Wikipedia. PD – Art – due to age.]

Britannica, The Editors of Encyclopaedia. “Great Chain of Being”. Encyclopedia Britannica, 10 Dec. 2021, https://www.britannica.com/topic/GreatChain-of-Being. Accessed 13 October 2023. https://www.bbc.co.uk/bitesize/guides/zwmr7hv/revision/3 , accessed 14 October 2023.

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Why did James I kill Nicholas Owen?

Hugh R (Hu)

After many years of working undercover as a Jesuit, in March 1606 Nicholas Owen, a lay priest and priest hole builder, was brutally tortured and killed in the Tower of London upon being discovered as the main and most talented priest hole builder in all of Britain. Whilst many may never have heard of Nicholas Owen, he is in fact a striking part of the story of recusancy in Elizabethan and Stuart Britain, which William Byrd was also a part of.

Whilst Owen was arrested twice in 1581 and 1594, he was not tortured or killed by Elizabeth, and this suggests the question, why did James I kill Nicholas Owen?

Initially Elizabeth I had attempted to be tolerant of people choosing to believe in Catholicism, with the Act of Uniformity in 1559, which, allowing two forms of communion (one Catholic, one Protestant) showed her intentions to do so, along with a quote in a letter to Thomas Cely, ‘I do not wish to make windows into men’s souls’. However, during the late 1580s two key events changed the course of the Elizabethan attitude to Catholics.

The first was the Babington Plot in 1587, which followed two other plots known as the Radolfi Plot in 1571 and the Throckmorton Plot in 1583 (both involving Spain). The Babington Plot aimed to put Elizabeth’s Catholic cousin, Mary Queen of Scots, onto the throne. The second was the Spanish Armada in 1588: this presented a huge threat to Elizabeth who was without the help of protestant allies in Europe, leaving Britain isolated. This convinced her that the threat of Catholics both at home and abroad was too great for her to allow them the freedom she had earlier introduced in Britain anymore. Therefore, it became extremely dangerous for priests and priest hole builders to work undercover due to the fact that a large network of spies known as the ‘pursuivants’ was used to monitor the movements of Catholics and their priests. Thus, James inherited an extremely fractious religious settlement in Britain and, whilst initially attempting to be tolerant of Catholics, he felt he had no choice but to persecute important figures in the Catholic community in order to safeguard the monarch.

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The early years of James’ reign were engulfed by three plots, the Bye Plot, the Main Plot and the Gunpowder Plot. They provide a clear illustration of the dangers confronting him. In 1603 a plot known as the Bye Plot led by Lord Cobham emerged as a threat to the king, with the aim of kidnapping him. The Main Plot was linked with the Bye Plot with intentions of making Lady Arbella Stuart Queen once James had been kidnapped. This significantly altered James’ perspective on how to treat the Catholics. The Main and Bye Plots were funded by the Spanish Government, reminding James of the foreign Catholic threat and the isolated Britain faced. The third plot was the Gunpowder Plot of 1606. This was four months before Nicholas Owen died. The Gunpowder Plot showed James that the Catholics would be relentless in making sure that he wasn’t King. This proved to James that he would have to be relentless in pursuing important Catholic figures who protected the people who plotted against him. Whilst they did not know the significance of Nicholas Owen at the time, it was imperative that they did capture him and similar men to protect the monarchy and the Protestant faith.

Nicholas Owen was born into a devoutly Catholic family in 1550 and grew up during the Penal Laws, which imposed civil restrictions on Catholics. Two of his brothers were priests and his father was a carpenter, which he became when he was older. In 1581 he was arrested with Edmund Campion, an English Jesuit priest.

Upon his release in 1588 he would work with Henry Garnet until his death. During the day Owen worked as a carpenter to avoid suspicion and built priest holes at night, often alone. In 1594 Owen was arrested again but was dismissed by a minor priest who knew nothing. Upon his death in 1606, John Gerrard, a Jesuit priest, said ‘I verily think no man can be said to have done more good of all those that laboured in the English vineyard.’ James said that Owen had committed suicide. Owen was beatified in 1929 by Pius XI and Canonized in 1970 by Paul VI. In conclusion Elizabeth and James had attempted a more moderate attitude towards Catholics but both could not maintain this. James in 1606 was desperate and needed a significant figure to be killed in order to regain the authority of the church of England. This would have been extremely relevant to William Byrd, considering the fact that he covertly wrote Catholic music. On a grander scale this began to create a division between the King and Parliament and set the tone for the coming civil war.

Harvington Hall, Worcestershire: the Hall had seven priest holes. This priest hole with beam was probably designed by Nicolas Owen.

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Why Did James I kill Sir Walter Raleigh?

Grace F (Re) King James I, son of Mary, Queen of Scots was born on June 19th, 1566, in Edinburgh Castle.

He became King of Scotland at the young age of 13 months after his mother was forced to abdicate the throne in 1567. He was known as James VI to the Scots and ruled the Scottish throne until his death in 1625. In 1603, James inherited the English throne after the death of Queen Elizabeth I. He was crowned James I and unified the thrones of Scotland and England in May 1603. He was well-known for being the intended victim of the Gunpowder Plot in 1605, which then led to him to dissolving parliament.

During his reign he also ended England’s war with Spain in 1603. Another thing he is well known for is executing Sir Walter Raleigh on October 29th, 1618.

Sir Walter Raleigh was an English statesman, soldier, writer, and explorer born sometime between 1552-1554. Raleigh rose rapidly in the favour of Queen Elizabeth I and was knighted as well as being made Captain of the Guard in 1585. In 1588 he took part in the victory over the Spanish Armada. He also led raids against the Spanish and returned with a lot of treasure. However, in 1592 he lost Queen Elizabeth’s favour when he married her lady-in-waiting, Elizabeth Throckmorton, without permission. He was sent to the Tower for a short period of time but was then released.

He would be sent back another two times before his execution in 1618.

In 1603, Queen Elizabeth I died without a direct heir to the throne. There was a lot of discussion over who should inherit the throne after Elizabeth’s death. The candidates were King James VI of Scotland and his cousin Lady Arbella Stuart, both of whom were descendants of the Queen in the same way. In the end, parliament decided that James would make a better king because he was already King of Scotland so was more experienced in ruling a country. However, some did not want James as their ruler, they wanted Lady Arbella Stuart. This was made clear in July 1603 when a plan, known as ‘The Main Plot’ was devised to remove the King and replace him with his cousin. Many people were accused of being involved in this plan, including Raleigh. In July 1603 Raleigh was charged with treason, arrested and sent to the Tower of London. He was also given a death sentence.

However, at the last minute, the King reduced Raleigh’s punishment and removed the death sentence, instead he was sentenced to life imprisonment. Despite this, 13 years later, in 1616, Raleigh was released, but he was not pardoned. He was released so he could lead an expedition to the mythical city of El Dorado which was said to hold many great treasures, such as gold, jewels, and money. Unfortunately, it would turn out to be the expedition that would seal Raleigh’s fate.

Sir Walter Raleigh along with about one hundred men, travelled to a Guiana in South America; they then sailed up the Orinoco River which they believed would take them to the fabled El Dorado. However, as a detachment of Raleigh’s men was making its way up the Orinoco River the soldiers attacked and looted a Spanish outpost. This was unfortunate for Raleigh because it meant that he had broken the 1604 peace treaty with Spain 36

known as the ‘Treaty of London (1604)’. When King James I found out he was furious because he had been trying very hard to create peace with the Spanish and build strong relationships with them. The King immediately sent Raleigh back to the Tower upon his return to England. However, the Spanish were not happy with Raleigh’s punishment, and they felt it needed to be stronger. They asked for Raleigh’s death sentence of 1603 to be reinstated and King James I, who was eager to keep the Spanish happy, agreed. Therefore, on October 29th, 1618, Sir Walter Raleigh was executed outside the Palace of Westminster: he had been charged with treason.

In conclusion, the reason why James I killed Sir Walter Raleigh was because he felt Raleigh was a threat to his throne. Like any Monarch, James I wanted to make sure his position as King was as secure as possible.

When Raleigh was accused of trying to get rid of King James I through ‘The Main Plot’ and replace him with his cousin, the King made sure that Raleigh was punished by locking him up in the Tower. Nevertheless, when James I could benefit from Raleigh’s expertise as an explorer to help find the fabled treasures of El Dorado, he released him. However, James I didn’t want to risk being on the wrong side of the Spanish when they asked for Raleigh’s execution to be carried out after he had broken the peace treaty with Spain. He was desperate to keep peace with the Spanish because it would ensure that Spain would not attack England and Scotland, which could lead to James I losing the throne, and it meant that England could keep trading with Spain. So, when Spain asked for Raleigh’s death sentence to be reinstated, King James agreed so he could keep the Spanish happy. All in all, King James I had Sir Walter Raleigh killed because he wanted to avoid provoking the Spanish, who might have threatened his position on the throne.

Sherborne Castle, Dorset: built in the form of an ‘H’ to try to curry favour with James I, whose eldest son was called ‘Henry’ (died before becoming king).

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November 2023

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