In the Days of Queen Elizabeth

by Eva March Tappan

There was no longer a cruel king on the throne, but a child who is described as a marvel of goodness and learning. He is praised not only for his ability to speak different languages, but for his knowledge of geography. One of the historians of the day said that he could recite all the harbors and creeks in England, France, and Scotland, and could tell what kind of entrance there was in each for ships, and even which tides and winds were most favorable. It was claimed, too, that he knew the names of all the men of authority in his kingdom, where their homes were, and what their religion was.

This matter of religion was dividing the kingdom. Henry had called himself a Catholic, but he would not admit the Pope’s authority. Edward and Elizabeth had been brought up in their father’s belief. The Duke of Somerset was one of the men chosen to carry out Henry’s will, and he was so decided a Protestant that he was almost as determined to make every one accept the Protestant faith as Henry had been to make all his people agree with himself. In spite of all King Henry’s declarations that neither Mary nor Elizabeth should ever wear the crown, he had finally willed that it should descend first to Edward, then to Mary and then to Elizabeth. The Catholics were eager to have Mary come to the throne, because she was of their own faith; but the Duke of Somerset had been chosen Protector, that is, he was really to govern the kingdom until Edward was old enough to rule, and he meant to oblige the people to become Protestants.

There was even more scheming going on around the boy king, for his councilors were already planning for his marriage. A little five-year-old girl in Scotland was the one whose hand they meant to secure for their sovereign. Her name was Mary, and she was the Queen of Scots. This plan had been one of King Henry’s favorite schemes, but it had never pleased the Scotch. The Protector led an army against them, a most remarkable fashion of winning a bride for the young king, but the Scotch would not yield.

“What greater honor do you expect for the queen?” demanded the English council. “How can Scotland gain more sure protection than that of the king of England?” The Scotch knew very well that if Edward married Mary, it would be for the purpose of gaining a surer control of Scotland, and they refused in spite of the Duke of Somerset and all his army. They betrothed the little queen to the son of the French king, and sent her to France to be educated. “The Scotch are a perverse and wilful people,” then said the English.

Besides the difficulty in gaining a wife for the king and the religious persecutions, there was trouble from other causes, especially among the poor. Part of this arose from what was called “enclosing.” On every great estate there had always been land that the poor people living on the estate could use as a common pasture for their cows. The rich landowners were beginning to “enclose,” or fence in these tracts of land and to use them either for private parks or for sheep pastures. The poor had no longer any way to feed their animals, and they were in great distress. Somerset tried to forbid this enclosing, but the owners of land were too powerful for him, and the enclosing went on in spite of the strictest laws against it. Indeed, the laws caused a new difficulty, for now that the poor people had a decree in their favor, they revolted in several districts, and tried to seize the land. A writer who lived in those times says, “The poor people swarmed in the realm.”

Of course when there were revolts, Somerset was obliged to suppress them, no matter how much he sympathized with the revolters, and often accused men were punished with little effort to make sure of their guilt. It is said that a miller who had been a revolter suspected that he was in danger, and said to his servant, “I must go away on business. If anyone asks for me say that you are the miller and have owned the mill these three years.” The king’s officer came as the miller feared. “Are you the miller?” he demanded. “Surely,” replied the servant proudly. “The mill has been mine for three full years.” “You have been a busy rebel,” declared the officer, “and now you shall be hanged to the nearest tree.” “Indeed, I’m not the miller, but only his man,” cried the frightened servant. “The man tells two tales, hang him up,” bade the officer. A little later one who knew the miller said, “Truly, he was not the miller, he was but the miller’s man.” “Then has he proved a good servant,” declared the officer contentedly, “for how could he have done his master better service than by hanging for him?”

The nobles were angry at Somerset’s attempt to prevent enclosing, and they were indignant that he should have so much power. The result was that he was accused of treason and the Duke of Northumberland became Protector.

Although all these acts were done in the name of Edward, the boy king had really very little freedom. “He is not alone half a quarter of an hour,” said one who knew of his life. When he first became king, he wrote to Mary, “I will be to you a dearest brother and overflowing with all kindness;” but he was taught by Somerset and others that it was a danger to the kingdom to allow his sister to remain a Catholic. When he had been on the throne for about three years, she was summoned to court.

“Your Highness,” said the chamberlain to Edward, “I have to announce the arrival of her Grace, the Princess Mary.”

“Give welcome to her and her train,” said the young monarch, “and say that it is my will and that of my councilors to receive her straightway.” This visit was not for the pleasure of meeting her brother, though they greeted each other most cordially. The royal council was sitting in another room, and there she was summoned.