What do you think?
Rate this book
Lord Burghley #2
READ C LORD BURGHLEY & Q.ELIZABETH-JC
This is the second of two books on the long (40-plus year) partnership between William Cecil (Lord Burghley) and Queen Elizabeth I. This volume starts in 1570 and ends with Cecil's death in 1598. During the period of this book, Cecil acted as Elizabeth's Prime Minister (the position had not yet been created, he was actually Lord Treasurer). In this book are the most important events of the reign, the flight, imprisonment, and ultimate execution of Mary, Queen of Scots, the War with Spain (the Armada), increasing difficulties with the Puritans, and much else. Cecil bequeathed to England a stable government, a son (Robert) almost as able as he who filled his place for the rest of Elizabeth's reign and most of James I's. A descendent was to be Prime Minister of England in the nineteenth century. Between them, Elizabeth and Cecil created, arguably, the most successful reign in English history. This is the second half of that story.
- GenresHistory
608 pages, Paperback
Published December 31, 1965
About the author
Conyers Read
41 books3 followersConyers Read was an American historian who specialized in the History of England in the 15th and 16th centuries. A professor of history at the universities of Chicago and Pennsylvania, he was president of the American Historical Association for the year 1949–1950.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 of 1 review
November 3, 2024
Lord Burghley and Queen Elizabeth is the second volume, Conyers Read’s companion to his Mr Secretary Cecil and Queen Elizabeth . As is indicated by the titles, this volume begins at the time (1571) William Cecil was made Baron Burghley. Read is slightly cynical: “He affected to take the matter lightly, but rank and station and prestige meant far too much to him to be careless of a distinction which Elizabeth was very chary about conferring.”
It is difficult to see why anyone would deliberately read this volume separate to Volume 1, and I read the two, one after the other. The second is very similar in style to its predecessor, with the same reliance on vast research of original documentation, and very thorough analysis of the material. I did not find much to criticise in the earlier book, and nor do I with this. It is similarly a little dry, but not unreasonably so; it possibly shows its age a little more (both were published in the 1950s) perhaps most jarringly when Read argues that the older Elizabeth displayed an emotional inconstancy typical of menopausal females. I don’t know if he is correct or not but I am pretty sure such a comment would not be made or published these days. However, one must allow for his being a man of his time, and I believe one must refrain from criticising him as though he were writing in our time.
Once again, Conyers Read does not stint on criticism of Burghley:
• “Ireland was for him a drain on English resources and a convenient base of operations for England’s enemies. What he strove for there was the restoration of order in the English interest. But he does not appear, even in those terms, to have proposed any program for action.”
• “What strikes one most forcibly about Burghley’s administration of the royal finances is that he accepted the existing system as it was, never attempted any fundamental reforms and directed his efforts to the elimination of peculation and corruption.” “He recognised the inequities in the assessment of direct taxes, but he did nothing more than try to prevent dishonesty and favouritism by assessors.”
• “Cecil’s style was as bad as his history. The whole composition was a tedious, long-winded affair. It was fortunately never published.” And “he had an itching hand for the pen with no marked aptitude in the use of it.”
Despite this last judgment, Burghley could be temperate, subtle, direct and pointed. He replied to an abusive Puritan preacher’s letter: “‘Mr Dering, Since I received from you, in a piece of paper, a biting letter… I have been in doubt whether I should, either for wasting my time or for nourishing of your humour make you any answer by letter. But I have yielded as you see. (He then explained that his role at Cambridge would not allow his intercession in a matter as sought by Dering.) … The rest of your pamphlet or letter (worse I will not name it) containeth diverse ejaculations against me. As one, that if I were so void of knowledge or Godliness as your words make me, I should be ashamed to live in the place where I do. But most of all I might be reputed as a pagan, without sense or knowledge of my God. But what I am indeed God only knoweth first, and secondarily myself, who am, as you may be for yourself, partial. And therefore, except it may please God to direct good men to think better of me than you do, I shall not be in danger of any vain glory.’” Although it is likely that his explanation of the limits of his authority as Chancellor of Cambridge University was a little disingenuous.
Conyers Read does note that, “Throughout his life he was, for a veteran politician, exceptionally sensitive to personal attacks.”
The matters which preoccupied Cecil in the first volume, continue to preoccupy him as Lord Burghley in this: France and its dangers for Britain; Scotland and its use by the French as a threat; the succession and Elizabeth’s consideration of marriage; the potential threat to Britain’s security from either Catholics or Puritans, this becoming more immediate after the Pope’s excommunication of Elizabeth, and the training of local priests in the new facility at Douai as well as the incursion of Jesuit priests into England.
He continues with his pragmatism, sublimating his own views so as not to cross Elizabeth. And it is worth pointing out that the very lack of personal policy initiative pointed out by Read, as I have quoted above, is precisely the form of deference to his monarch that made him so valuable to her – and allowed his extraordinarily long tenure.
The possibility at one stage of Elizabeth’s marriage to the duc d’Anjou, fourth son of Henri II was considered, and at various times seemed all but certain to occur. Burghley wanted Elizabeth to marry so that she might have children, thus safeguarding the succession. However, d’Anjou was Catholic so a complicated spouse for a post-Reformation monarch. Burghley, though often seen as an arch-anti-Catholic, was ready to propose quiet compromises to allow the duke to retain his religion while not subverting Protestantism. Ultimately, however, he could lead the queen to the duc, but he could not make them man and wife, and he recognized the limits to his powers and backed off.
When the Ridolfi plot against Elizabeth was uncovered, Thomas Howard, Duke of Norfolk and Elizabeth’s second cousin, but a Catholic planning to marry Mary Queen of Scots, was in the thick of it. He was sentenced to execution but Elizabeth prevaricated over having the sentence carried out. It is interesting that Norfolk asked Burghley to care for his children after his death. Clearly Norfolk retained regard for the man.
The House of Commons, now with a Puriatn majority, urged Elizabeth to act against Mary; she agreed to do so, but did not act. Burghley wrote to Walsingham of his frustration with her. He also wrote of his frustration over her vacillation about marriage to d’Anjou.
There was apparently a report at the time that there was, in addition, a plot to eliminate Burghley; Read is sceptical.
Although his installation to the Barony meant he was no longer First Secretary, Burghley continued to carry out many of the functions of that role. This was partly because Elizabeth did not want to lose his advice (and presumably his pliancy) and she readily by-passed his replacement. Partly, also, he was ready to operate in this way, although it increased his work-load, because it allowed him to retain influence.
Burghley was apparently sought out by many families to take promising young men into his household to prepare for later service. One of these was Edward de Vere, the Earl of Oxford, who became engaged to Burghley’s elder daughter, Ann. It seems that Burghley was not fully enamoured of Oxford who is now probably as well known as a prominent candidate of the “anti-Stratfordians” as the real writer of Shakespeare’s plays in the ”authorship question”. Oxford was, whatever else he might have been, a scoundrel who brought both Ann and Burghley (and, at various times, the Queen) great sorrow and anger. Conyer is also unimpressed: “This is the letter of a cad if ever there was one.”
By this time of his life, Burghley was badly stricken by the gout that had been a problem for many years. He was often immobile at home and when he was called to speak with the Queen, he was commonly carried. (Mind you, he was still hunting, horseback, with bow and arrow at sixty.) He was convinced that his son Robert, the good son, was capable of picking up much of his work and Elizabeth grew to trust Robert – as James I did. It is at this time that the most graphic illustration of Elizabeth’s difficult behaviour occurred, and it was also the most dramatic episode of Burghley’s life. This was in relation to the trial of Mary Queen of Scots, and her sentence to execution.
According to Conyers Read, Burghley was far more concerned than was Elizabeth that Mary’s “claim to the throne, the potential strength of latent Roman Catholicism in England, and the continuing efforts of the Papacy to organise a religious crusade in England were, taken together, the most serious menace to England’s peace and security.” Read assesses the threat the Catholic gentry represented thus: “A few were prepared to die for their faith, a good many were prepared to suffer for their faith, but very few were ever ready to sacrifice their Queen and their country for their faith. Elisabeth herself divined that fact and Burghley was to realise it gradually.”
Nevertheless, after the Babington Plot was exposed, Parliament insisted that Mary be tried. Elizabeth was fixated on the fact that Mary was a fellow-monarch and that any action against Mary could be taken as a precedent for action against herself in other circumstances. As she had been delicate about Norfolk’s execution, so much more was she now chary about action against Mary. She placed subtle obstacles before the trial. When the verdict was reached against Mary, Elizabeth became still more underhand. She refused to sign or proclaim the warrant for execution. Then she tried to persuade Mary’s custodians to carry out an extra-judicial execution. They were too cautious and – sensibly – refused. Burghley had previously complained that “True it is that her Majesty throweth upon me a burden to deal in all ungrateful actions – to give answers unpleasant to suitors that miss; where others are used to signify pleasing answers affirmatively. My burden also is this that in all suits for lands, leases or such things, her Majesty commands me to certify the state thereof from her under officers, and so I do (as it becomes) truly. And if the party obtain, I am not thanked; if not, the fault (though falsely) is imputed to me.”
Now he secretly arranged for the execution to be carried out. “He must have concluded that Elizabeth favoured Mary’s death but wouldn’t assume the responsibility for it. Long experience must have taught him that, so far as Mary was concerned, she would never take the straightforward course. And he decided to act for her. It was a calculated risk and he took it, though he made sure that all the essential orders bore the signatures of the Privy Council. It is tempting to assume that the whole procedure was by prearrangement with his mistress and that even her subsequent indignation was feigned. But the course of events does not bear out that interpretation. In any case, his decision was one of the most heroic in his career, and it seems to have come as close as anything he ever did to accomplishing his downfall.”
Initially Elizabeth affected fury with Burghley (we remember her earlier contradictory display of emotions when she finally decided to reject another potential suitor, Alençon. She ordered the ship for his departure, and accompanied him to Canterbury; “Elizabeth displayed great grief at his parting, and swore she would never be happy until he came back. Her ladies-in-waiting reported that in the privacy of her chamber she danced for joy.”)
Now, aware of the execution, she threw one advisor (but not Burghley) into the tower, and refused to have any contact with Burghley, despite his several pathetic attempts to see her. “‘Not many days past, her Majesty entered into marvellous cruel speeches with the Lord Treasurer, calling him traitor, false dissembler and wicked wretch, commending him to avoid her presence, and all about the death of the Scottish Queen.’” Then, mere weeks later, she relented and he gradually returned to his position of trust.
It is fascinating that, at this late stage of his career, Burghley digressed from his previous safe, cautious policy of avoiding any friction with Elizabeth and took such a risk, gambling that (a) she would accommodate Mary’s execution and (b) she would reconcile with Burghley. And he appears not to have anticipated the Queen’s behaviour at all. The whole episode reveals much about her, but also shows that the picture we have built of him is not as steadfast as we assumed.
These two books together provide a superb picture of William Cecil/ Lord Burghley and of the Elizabethan reign and are highly recommended.
(Incidentally, I found it fascinating that Sir Robert Bowes, Elizabeth’s diplomat in Scotland during some of her reign was the great great great great grandfather of Queen Elizabeth II.)
It is difficult to see why anyone would deliberately read this volume separate to Volume 1, and I read the two, one after the other. The second is very similar in style to its predecessor, with the same reliance on vast research of original documentation, and very thorough analysis of the material. I did not find much to criticise in the earlier book, and nor do I with this. It is similarly a little dry, but not unreasonably so; it possibly shows its age a little more (both were published in the 1950s) perhaps most jarringly when Read argues that the older Elizabeth displayed an emotional inconstancy typical of menopausal females. I don’t know if he is correct or not but I am pretty sure such a comment would not be made or published these days. However, one must allow for his being a man of his time, and I believe one must refrain from criticising him as though he were writing in our time.
Once again, Conyers Read does not stint on criticism of Burghley:
• “Ireland was for him a drain on English resources and a convenient base of operations for England’s enemies. What he strove for there was the restoration of order in the English interest. But he does not appear, even in those terms, to have proposed any program for action.”
• “What strikes one most forcibly about Burghley’s administration of the royal finances is that he accepted the existing system as it was, never attempted any fundamental reforms and directed his efforts to the elimination of peculation and corruption.” “He recognised the inequities in the assessment of direct taxes, but he did nothing more than try to prevent dishonesty and favouritism by assessors.”
• “Cecil’s style was as bad as his history. The whole composition was a tedious, long-winded affair. It was fortunately never published.” And “he had an itching hand for the pen with no marked aptitude in the use of it.”
Despite this last judgment, Burghley could be temperate, subtle, direct and pointed. He replied to an abusive Puritan preacher’s letter: “‘Mr Dering, Since I received from you, in a piece of paper, a biting letter… I have been in doubt whether I should, either for wasting my time or for nourishing of your humour make you any answer by letter. But I have yielded as you see. (He then explained that his role at Cambridge would not allow his intercession in a matter as sought by Dering.) … The rest of your pamphlet or letter (worse I will not name it) containeth diverse ejaculations against me. As one, that if I were so void of knowledge or Godliness as your words make me, I should be ashamed to live in the place where I do. But most of all I might be reputed as a pagan, without sense or knowledge of my God. But what I am indeed God only knoweth first, and secondarily myself, who am, as you may be for yourself, partial. And therefore, except it may please God to direct good men to think better of me than you do, I shall not be in danger of any vain glory.’” Although it is likely that his explanation of the limits of his authority as Chancellor of Cambridge University was a little disingenuous.
Conyers Read does note that, “Throughout his life he was, for a veteran politician, exceptionally sensitive to personal attacks.”
The matters which preoccupied Cecil in the first volume, continue to preoccupy him as Lord Burghley in this: France and its dangers for Britain; Scotland and its use by the French as a threat; the succession and Elizabeth’s consideration of marriage; the potential threat to Britain’s security from either Catholics or Puritans, this becoming more immediate after the Pope’s excommunication of Elizabeth, and the training of local priests in the new facility at Douai as well as the incursion of Jesuit priests into England.
He continues with his pragmatism, sublimating his own views so as not to cross Elizabeth. And it is worth pointing out that the very lack of personal policy initiative pointed out by Read, as I have quoted above, is precisely the form of deference to his monarch that made him so valuable to her – and allowed his extraordinarily long tenure.
The possibility at one stage of Elizabeth’s marriage to the duc d’Anjou, fourth son of Henri II was considered, and at various times seemed all but certain to occur. Burghley wanted Elizabeth to marry so that she might have children, thus safeguarding the succession. However, d’Anjou was Catholic so a complicated spouse for a post-Reformation monarch. Burghley, though often seen as an arch-anti-Catholic, was ready to propose quiet compromises to allow the duke to retain his religion while not subverting Protestantism. Ultimately, however, he could lead the queen to the duc, but he could not make them man and wife, and he recognized the limits to his powers and backed off.
When the Ridolfi plot against Elizabeth was uncovered, Thomas Howard, Duke of Norfolk and Elizabeth’s second cousin, but a Catholic planning to marry Mary Queen of Scots, was in the thick of it. He was sentenced to execution but Elizabeth prevaricated over having the sentence carried out. It is interesting that Norfolk asked Burghley to care for his children after his death. Clearly Norfolk retained regard for the man.
The House of Commons, now with a Puriatn majority, urged Elizabeth to act against Mary; she agreed to do so, but did not act. Burghley wrote to Walsingham of his frustration with her. He also wrote of his frustration over her vacillation about marriage to d’Anjou.
There was apparently a report at the time that there was, in addition, a plot to eliminate Burghley; Read is sceptical.
Although his installation to the Barony meant he was no longer First Secretary, Burghley continued to carry out many of the functions of that role. This was partly because Elizabeth did not want to lose his advice (and presumably his pliancy) and she readily by-passed his replacement. Partly, also, he was ready to operate in this way, although it increased his work-load, because it allowed him to retain influence.
Burghley was apparently sought out by many families to take promising young men into his household to prepare for later service. One of these was Edward de Vere, the Earl of Oxford, who became engaged to Burghley’s elder daughter, Ann. It seems that Burghley was not fully enamoured of Oxford who is now probably as well known as a prominent candidate of the “anti-Stratfordians” as the real writer of Shakespeare’s plays in the ”authorship question”. Oxford was, whatever else he might have been, a scoundrel who brought both Ann and Burghley (and, at various times, the Queen) great sorrow and anger. Conyer is also unimpressed: “This is the letter of a cad if ever there was one.”
By this time of his life, Burghley was badly stricken by the gout that had been a problem for many years. He was often immobile at home and when he was called to speak with the Queen, he was commonly carried. (Mind you, he was still hunting, horseback, with bow and arrow at sixty.) He was convinced that his son Robert, the good son, was capable of picking up much of his work and Elizabeth grew to trust Robert – as James I did. It is at this time that the most graphic illustration of Elizabeth’s difficult behaviour occurred, and it was also the most dramatic episode of Burghley’s life. This was in relation to the trial of Mary Queen of Scots, and her sentence to execution.
According to Conyers Read, Burghley was far more concerned than was Elizabeth that Mary’s “claim to the throne, the potential strength of latent Roman Catholicism in England, and the continuing efforts of the Papacy to organise a religious crusade in England were, taken together, the most serious menace to England’s peace and security.” Read assesses the threat the Catholic gentry represented thus: “A few were prepared to die for their faith, a good many were prepared to suffer for their faith, but very few were ever ready to sacrifice their Queen and their country for their faith. Elisabeth herself divined that fact and Burghley was to realise it gradually.”
Nevertheless, after the Babington Plot was exposed, Parliament insisted that Mary be tried. Elizabeth was fixated on the fact that Mary was a fellow-monarch and that any action against Mary could be taken as a precedent for action against herself in other circumstances. As she had been delicate about Norfolk’s execution, so much more was she now chary about action against Mary. She placed subtle obstacles before the trial. When the verdict was reached against Mary, Elizabeth became still more underhand. She refused to sign or proclaim the warrant for execution. Then she tried to persuade Mary’s custodians to carry out an extra-judicial execution. They were too cautious and – sensibly – refused. Burghley had previously complained that “True it is that her Majesty throweth upon me a burden to deal in all ungrateful actions – to give answers unpleasant to suitors that miss; where others are used to signify pleasing answers affirmatively. My burden also is this that in all suits for lands, leases or such things, her Majesty commands me to certify the state thereof from her under officers, and so I do (as it becomes) truly. And if the party obtain, I am not thanked; if not, the fault (though falsely) is imputed to me.”
Now he secretly arranged for the execution to be carried out. “He must have concluded that Elizabeth favoured Mary’s death but wouldn’t assume the responsibility for it. Long experience must have taught him that, so far as Mary was concerned, she would never take the straightforward course. And he decided to act for her. It was a calculated risk and he took it, though he made sure that all the essential orders bore the signatures of the Privy Council. It is tempting to assume that the whole procedure was by prearrangement with his mistress and that even her subsequent indignation was feigned. But the course of events does not bear out that interpretation. In any case, his decision was one of the most heroic in his career, and it seems to have come as close as anything he ever did to accomplishing his downfall.”
Initially Elizabeth affected fury with Burghley (we remember her earlier contradictory display of emotions when she finally decided to reject another potential suitor, Alençon. She ordered the ship for his departure, and accompanied him to Canterbury; “Elizabeth displayed great grief at his parting, and swore she would never be happy until he came back. Her ladies-in-waiting reported that in the privacy of her chamber she danced for joy.”)
Now, aware of the execution, she threw one advisor (but not Burghley) into the tower, and refused to have any contact with Burghley, despite his several pathetic attempts to see her. “‘Not many days past, her Majesty entered into marvellous cruel speeches with the Lord Treasurer, calling him traitor, false dissembler and wicked wretch, commending him to avoid her presence, and all about the death of the Scottish Queen.’” Then, mere weeks later, she relented and he gradually returned to his position of trust.
It is fascinating that, at this late stage of his career, Burghley digressed from his previous safe, cautious policy of avoiding any friction with Elizabeth and took such a risk, gambling that (a) she would accommodate Mary’s execution and (b) she would reconcile with Burghley. And he appears not to have anticipated the Queen’s behaviour at all. The whole episode reveals much about her, but also shows that the picture we have built of him is not as steadfast as we assumed.
These two books together provide a superb picture of William Cecil/ Lord Burghley and of the Elizabethan reign and are highly recommended.
(Incidentally, I found it fascinating that Sir Robert Bowes, Elizabeth’s diplomat in Scotland during some of her reign was the great great great great grandfather of Queen Elizabeth II.)
Displaying 1 of 1 review