Anglo-German Relations and the Protestant Cause

Elizabethan Foreign Policy and Pan-Protestantism

David S. Gehring

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2015
• ISBN:
  9781317320197
• Edition: 1
• Topic: History
• Subtopic: World History
• Index: History

Challenging accepted notions of Elizabethan foreign policy, Gehring argues that the Queen's relationship with the Protestant Princes of the Holy Roman Empire was more of a success than has been previously thought. Based on extensive archival research, he contends that the enthusiastic and continual correspondence and diplomatic engagement between Elizabeth and these Protestant allies demonstrate a deeply held sympathy between the English Church and State and those of Germany and Denmark.

1 THE ELIZABETHAN SETTLEMENT AND ANGLO-GERMAN POLICY IN THE FIRST YEARS

During the first years connections between England and the Protestant lands of the Holy Roman Empire were both deep-rooted and given to circumstance. The nascent Elizabethan regime looked to solidify itself by recovering from the polarities of the previous reigns and re-engaging the rest of the Protestant world. In scholars’ efforts to uncover sources of later Puritanism and parliamentary debates, many have appreciated the experiences of the Marian exiles and other activist or aggressive Protestants in Swiss lands. Comparatively little attention, however, has been allocated to conservative Protestant impulses in England relative to the relationship with Germany.¹ Some of these previous experiences could be positive, such as the diplomatic activity between Henry VIII and the League of Schmalkalden, while others were negative, like suffering Catholic persecution under Queen Mary and the Interim. By reopening a dialogue based on confessional solidarity and mutual anti-Catholicism after Elizabeth’s accession, Protestants in England and the Empire had good reason for an optimistic but cautious outlook. This chapter sets the Elizabethan Settlement of Religion in this context and shows how the formulation and implementation of domestic policy was analogous to Elizabeth’s early foreign policy towards greater Germania.

The Settlement has had many interpreters. Some have skewed its events and personalities to explain or justify later developments, while others have considered it in near isolation from the international scene. The present treatment offers a longer chronology to analyse the Settlement, which is understood as a product of the previous years and a process extending to the Thirty-Nine Articles and beyond. With a history and cause common with German Protestants, traditional English Protestants like the Queen and her Principal Secretary, William Cecil, understood the early years of the reign as an opportunity to unite divergent strands of the reformed world. Examining in such a light the multiple components of the Settlement helps to illuminate its theological ambiguity and openness to Lutheranism. Shifting from domestic to foreign affairs, this conservative pan-Protestantism fostered renewed contact and collaboration with potential German allies during matrimonial proposals and in diplomacy. These domestic and foreign developments resulted in a positive, lasting relationship.

The Elizabethan Settlement

The debate on the initiative, direction and character of the Settlement of Religion has continued from the Parliament of 1559 to modern times.² At the time, zealous Protestants returning from exile, many of whom sat in the House of Commons, favoured a Church of England on the Swiss model, especially either Z?or Geneva – one could consider this group the Left. At the opposite end of the spectrum – the Right – Catholics in the House of Lords hesitated to concede to the new direction, wary of Zwinglian or Calvinist radicalism. Somewhere left of the middle lay the theological and political tastes of the conservative Protestant establishment as represented by the Queen and Cecil. The via media of the Elizabethan Church has sometimes been understood as situated between Rome and Geneva, and its interpreters often bend its meaning to suit their own tastes. This conception of a ‘middle way’ is as vague as the authors of the Settlement intended. Retaining elements of traditional ritual and appearance for ‘comeliness’ and ‘order’, yet adopting classically Protestant doctrines on the Eucharist and Predestination, the components of the Settlement had multiple influences and were open to interpretation. At its core, a pan-Protestant ambiguity incorporated many different types opposed to Catholicism. It was not that the early Elizabethan Church and State were actually ‘Calvinist’, ‘Lutheran’ or ‘Anglican’. Rather, it was open and acceptable to all three – in that way the via media could be lauded as sweet moderation while criticized as leaden mediocrity.³ English receptivity to German Protestantism before and during the early years offers suggestive context for the formulation and implementation of the Settlement, from the Act of Supremacy to the Thirty-Nine Articles. This setting nurtured in the domestic sphere the same openness to Lutheran ideas and traditions as will be found in the Queen’s early foreign policy directed to the Protestants of the Empire.

Many of those most influential in shaping the components were conditioned by political experience and had previous contact with international Protestants. Long before Elizabeth’s accession on 17 November 1558, English and Swiss reformers developed friendships with long-term effects. In addition, connections between the Marian exiles and reformers in Frankfurt, Z?and Geneva were significant, and the extant correspondence testifies to the later impact of these relationships.⁴ The first generation of English Protestants had links elsewhere in central Europe, too. Henry VIII’S negotiations with the Princes of the Schmalkaldic League forged ideological and religious bonds lasting longer than many may suppose.⁵ Indeed, in many instances of league-building during Elizabeth’s reign, the legacy – positive and negative – of the Schmalkaldic League was alive and well. On one hand it harkened back to halcyon days of optimistic and militant Protestantism; on the other it recalled widespread violence and evangelical defeat. Some involved in these early relations (direct or indirect) later offered continuity for the Elizabethan regime in their roles as representatives or theological guides, like Christopher Mundt and Philip Melanchthon. Early in 1559, for example, Mundt urged the Hessian Council to renew the friendship (Freundeschafft) known during the time of Henry VIII and Edward VI. Writing two years later to a member of the Council, Simon Bing, Mundt addressed him as an old friend and reported the acceptance of the evangelical religion by the English Parliament.⁶ Moreover, much of early Elizabethan leadership were those who had not fled Marian England. Roger Ascham, William Cecil, Matthew Parker and Nicholas Bacon chose the life of a Nicodemite rather than exile. Still others could be added, such as Edmund Guest and Richard Cheyney. By adopting an outward conformity, non-exiles often retained a conservative form of Protestantism by downplaying ceremonial issues on adiaphora (things indifferent) and opposing advanced Swiss opinions dividing Protestants on the Eucharist. Jones observes a politically conditioned religious conformity when charting the differences in outlook among Protestants born in different generations, especially for non-exiles adherent to doctrines of obedience to the state. Putting a finer point on it, Pettegree shows how the Nicodemism of Princess Elizabeth and William Cecil helped to preserve their Protestant ideologies and asserts that ‘[t]o a very large extent the Elizabethan settlement was a Nicodemite Reformation’.⁷

Elizabeth’s case is even more interesting due to her educational experience under the cosmopolitan Ascham, her chaplain Edmund Allen and a previously unknown figure, Johannes Spithovius. A friend of Ascham and Cecil, Spithovius had been Melanchthon’s pupil at Wittenberg, taught at the University of Copenhagen and served as tutor of Latin and Greek to the Princess from 1549 to 1554. His position in Elizabeth’s household explains her understanding of the German language and deepens her exposure to additional strands of international Protestantism, in this case the Lutheranism of Saxony and Denmark.⁸ His presence gives additional weight to Collinson’s assessment of Elizabeth as ‘a very old-fashioned Protestant’ with a soteriology ‘quasi-Lutheran, proto-Protestant’, and Doran’s opinion that Elizabeth ‘seems to have been frozen into the religion of her youth which was heavily dependent on Erasmian, evangelical and Lutheran (of the Melanchthon ilk) influences’.⁹

Compromising on adiaphora, moderating one’s display of religiosity and downplaying differences among Protestants did not, however, mean the anti-Catholicism of the early regime was similarly lenient. Far from conciliating, those with pan-Protestant predilections saw themselves in a world fractured in two, of light and dark, of Christ and Antichrist, and perceptions of a binary opposition understood ‘Popery’ as a unifying ‘other’.¹⁰ Fears of an international conspiracy to exterminate Protestants existed from the beginning of the reign and gained momentum every year. As Cecil read the situation in May 1559, he advised Elizabeth to enforce obedience to recent legislation (the Act of Uniformity), lest ‘contrary wise papistes Jesvittes and seminary prestes do dayly increas, and do pervert ye symple and wyn dayly manny to ther faction’.¹¹ The Pope was head of this conspiracy, but the political and military wing included the King of Spain, the Guises in France, the Austrian Habsburgs and Holy Roman Emperor, Catholics in Germany such as the Duke of Bavaria and various Italian princes. For evidence of Catholic collusion, Protestants pointed to the Peace of Cateau-Cambrésis in April 1559, when it seemed peace between Henri of France and Philip of Spain would lead to aggression against Protestants in Scotland, France and the Low Countries.¹² Another supposed source of conspiracy was the Council of Trent, which reconvened for its final sessions in 1562–3. Although Protestants attended previous sessions, they felt disrespected by Catholic authorities and had no interest in going back. Furthermore, in retrospect after the Council ended, the criticism of the Lutheran Matthias Flacius Illyricus was translated into English and maintained that ‘the fathers of this counsel haue once fully determined, vtterly to plucke vp by the rootes, blot out and extinguish the doctrine whiche we professe’.¹³ Still another instance was the conference of the King and Queen Mother of France with representatives of the Spanish King in Bayonne in 1565. Many Protestants believed a ‘complot’ was made among the Pope, Spain, France, the Queen of Scots and so on. Philip of Spain denied any such agreement, but English anti-Catholics were convinced no good could come from the conference – no matter what Philip said.¹⁴ (Despite claims not to contemplate aggression against England, Philip did in fact desire a restoration of Catholicism in England but feared if he attacked outright, France and the German Princes would attack Spanish possessions in mainland Europe.) So widespread and long-lasting were such reports that in September 1567 the Scottish Regent sent an ambassador to Frederik II, King of Denmark, with a private admonition on the dangers of Catholic conspiracy and league (which now included the Duke of Savoy).¹⁵

During the Elizabethan Settlement, England was directed by those with a Protestant heritage extending back to the 1530s and across the seas to Germany. Previous contacts with Lutherans combined in the 1550s with the mutual experience of living under the Marian regime and the Interim. Thus, political caution conditioned displays of inner convictions, but such experiences fostered latent yet strident pan-Protestantism and anti-Catholicism that became more apparent in 1559 and beyond.

Elizabeth’s first Parliament met 25 January to 5 May 1559. After much debate and expectation, it passed in April the Act of Supremacy (establishing Elizabeth as Supreme Governor of the Church) and the Act of Uniformity (imposing mandatory observance in forms of prayer and ritual).¹⁶ Before their passage some feared the result would be a ‘mingle-mangle’ of old ceremonies and new doc trine, while others surmised Elizabeth’s Church might take a Lutheran form.¹⁷ In February an old friend brought Danish congratulations for Elizabeth’s accession. The envoy, Johannes Spithovius, met with the Queen and others, and the sole surviving report from his embassy illuminates events during the Parliament and how foreign observers read the situation. In his letter back to the Danish Lord Chancellor, Spithovius noted English curiosity concerning the ceremonies used in Denmark and Saxony, indicating also that he urged the English to follow the Saxon Church order on ceremonies and restrain contentious disputations on the Eucharist. In addition, he tracked down the preparatory books used in the ordination process by Johann Spangenberg and approved by Melanchthon and Bucer, so he could deliver them to the Smith committee.¹⁸ Things could look similarly German to English eyes. A day after Spithovius’s letter, Richard Hilles, whom Jones describes as an honest Lutheran in the Commons, wrote to Heinrich Bullinger that Protestants were allowed to preach at Court three times per week and that rites and ceremonies would likely be reformed ‘either after the pattern which was lately in use in the time [of] king Edward the sixth, or which is set forth by the protestant princes of Germany, in the … Confession of Augsburg’.¹⁹ To Spithovius, Hilles and undoubtedly others, it seemed the new regime considered German Protestantism as part of their confessional world and might adopt some Lutheran practices.

The Acts of Supremacy and Uniformity, and the associated Book of Common Prayer, contained instances reflecting this sentiment. On the Acts, the Venetian ambassador wrote that Elizabeth ‘determined not to adopt … the title of “Head of the Church”, but to act like the Princes of Germany, who use the power and not the title’. Although it would be an overstatement to describe the Royal Supremacy as uniquely Lutheran in this context, its perceived affinity to the ideas of cuius regio eius religio is suggestive.²⁰ Regarding uniformity, the Book of Common Prayer in 1559 was a slight revision of the 1552 edition, but it retained significant conservative practices. (Even if Elizabeth preferred the more Lutheran-inclined Book of 1549, that of 1552 served as the model.) The alterations in 1559 permitted clerical vestments in church services and, notoriously, left room for interpreting a carnal Real Presence in the Eucharist. These traditional Protestant elements appealed to the Queen and others of a Lutheran persuasion, like Hilles and the non-exile coterie of Guest, Cheyney and others. As MacCulloch observes, the provisions on liturgical dress and the Eucharist were in no way concessions to Catholics, but rather

were probably aimed at conciliating Lutheran Protestants either at home or abroad … It was worthwhile for Elizabeth’s government to throw the Lutherans a few theological scraps, and the change also chimed with the queen’s personal inclination to Lutheran views on eucharistic presence.²¹

Although MacCulloch rightly notes Elizabeth’s endorsement of the Real Presence, he disre...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Half Title
• Title Page
• Copyright Page
• Table of Contents
• Acknowledgements
• List of Figures
• Note on the Text
• Introduction: Elizabethan England and the German Question
• 1 The Elizabethan Settlement and Anglo-German Policy in the First Years
• 2 Foedus et Fractio, I: The Fortunes and Challenges of Anglo-German Diplomacy, 1560–76
• 3 Foedus et Fractio, II: The Formula of Concord and the Protestant League, 1577–80
• 4 Foedus et Fractio, III: The Confessional Realignment of Anglo-German Relations, 1580–6
• 5 Foedus et Fractio, IV: The Crescendo of European Conflict and the Changing of the Guard, 1587–92
• Conclusion: England and the Protestant Princes of the Empire
• Notes
• Works Cited
• Index