by Linda Porter
His second-in-command, Richard Chancellor, was more fortunate. He found his way into the White Sea as far as Archangel, and from there he travelled through Russia to Moscow, where he was received by the tsar known to history as Ivan the Terrible. Chancellor found life in Russia very different from England. ‘Moscow itself is great: I take the whole town to be greater than London with the suburbs: but it is very rude and standeth without all order.’ He thought the timber houses a fire risk and those inhabited by ordinary citizens were crude, made of ‘beams of fir-trees’. The Russian religion he correctly described as a variant of the Greek Church, with no graven images of saints but many icons and paintings. Both Old and New Testaments were available in the vernacular, but no one seemed to understand them and neither the Lord’s Prayer nor the Ten Commandments was widely known.To Chancellor, Russia seemed to have the building blocks of civilisation, but to be a society very much on the edge of the world.
The unexpected visitor was, though, favourably impressed by the welcome he received from Ivan. The informality of proceedings was congenial - Ivan knew all his nobles by name and he made legal judgements himself, without recourse to lawyers. This might be seen as an indication of autocracy rather than directness, but Chancellor, who evidently did not like lawyers as a class, found it refreshing. ‘This duke’, Chancellor wrote,‘is lord and emperor of many countries and his power is marvellous great … he is able to bring into the field two or three hundred thousand men.’28 No doubt this was an impression of might that Ivan wanted to make, but he had no hostile intentions against his visitor’s country. In fact, he was keen to reach a trade agreement. So was Mary, and on 5 April 1555 she and Philip signed a letter thanking the tsar for his hospitality and confirming their desire to trade. Chancellor’s colourful depiction of life in Russia provoked huge interest and excitement. The Muscovy Company was issued a royal charter in 1555 for northern, north-eastern and north-western discoveries and was allowed to raise the flag of England over new territories, in the name of the king and queen. Sebastian Cabot was nominated first governor of the company, empowered to trade with any part of the world,‘before the late said adventure or enterprise unknown, and by our merchants and subjects not commonly frequented’,29 a suitably broad undertaking to be headed by someone who, like his father before him, had committed his life to exploration and cartography.
Mary’s councillors were eager to invest in the new venture. Its initial capital of £6,000 is said to have been raised by 240 men subscribing £25 each. Seven peers were members, including the marquis of Winchester, Lord Paget, the earl of Arundel and the earl of Bedford. So were Mary’s household staff, Sir Robert Rochester, William Waldegrave and Henry Jerningham, as well as a selection of aldermen of the City of London and other knights, esquires and gentlemen. Two of the company’s members were women, widows who were merchants in their own right.
But Richard Chancellor did not live to reap the rewards of his discovery. He went back to Moscow to negotiate a commercial treaty and set off for home accompanied by a newly appointed Russian ambassador to the English court.When their ship was wrecked off the coast of Scotland, Chancellor drowned. The ambassador survived this ordeal, though he had to be ‘rescued’ from the Scots and brought down to London, with due honours.The treaty was eventually concluded on very advantageous terms for the English, allowing for imports of much-needed naval supplies in return for selling to the Russians herbs, wool-lens and metalwork. It gave a great boost to English trade.
Chancellor had gone north and been killed by the very risky nature of exploration. His fate did not deter Mary’s other adventurers, though they turned south. Voyages by William Winter, John Lok and William Towerson along the west coast of Africa established a foothold in Guinea. Here there were rich sources of gold, ivory and pepper. Unfortunately, the Portuguese were already active in this part of Africa and Philip felt obliged to defend their interests against those of his wife’s merchants. Mary agreed, but Elizabeth reacted differently when she came to the throne. Here, as in other commercial areas, she was able to build on the closer ties between the mercantile community and the government begun in her sister’s reign.
Interest in foreign lands is exemplified by what is perhaps the most beautiful piece of work to survive from Mary’s reign.The Queen Mary Atlas was commissioned around 1555 as a gift for Philip from his wife. She could not have chosen anything he would have liked more. Maps were the closest thing that Philip had to a hobby. He consulted them for all his military campaigns and commissioned them whenever he felt it necessary. Mary must have known this, but she probably also wanted the atlas to remind him of their joint inheritance. No record of her actual commission survives but the careful attention paid to the heraldry that decorates the pages gives us a clue; this was a statement of grandeur and power, as well as a record of the known world.
It was also fitting that the atlas should be commissioned by an English monarch, in keeping with the country’s long tradition of map-making. Under Edward VI, Sebastian Cabot had himself created a world map which was printed and hung on the walls of the Privy Chamber in Whitehall. Perhaps Philip had seen it there and Mary, alert to his interest, decided to go one better by employing one of the greatest of all 16th—century cartographers to produce an atlas specially for him. That man was the Portuguese map-maker and pilot Diogo Homem.
Born in 1520, Homem had a colourful past. He had been imprisoned in a Moroccan fortress in 1544, on suspicion of implication in a murder in Lisbon. But he escaped and made his way to England, where he joined as many as 60 other cartographers working for Henry VIII. Their work was important but not always glamorous, since it frequently involved mapping harbours and fortifications as Henry prepared to fight the French and the Scots. Homem must have been unusually skilful. After only three years in England he was a chart-maker with a European reputation, supporting himself as a freelance working for an international clientele. Most of his commissions were for private libraries. The atlas ordered by the queen of England was, though, of a different order of magnificence.
The atlas is dated 1558, which is probably the year of its completion. Not all of it survives - nine maps out of a likely 14 or 15—but what remains is breathtaking.The maps are surprisingly accurate for Europe, Africa and Asia, and they also show the coast of north-eastern America as well as all of South America. Originally, there may have been a decorative circular diagram of the zodiac as well as the surviving calendar, tables of solar declination, a lunar chart and the zonal world map. Most striking of all is the ethnographical and wildlife decoration, which would have been undertaken in Venice. Here are camels and vivid tents in North Africa and great fishes swimming in the oceans. Diogo Homem’s world teems with life and colour and the spirit of discovery. The Queen Mary Atlas, overlooked for many years, as so much else to do with Mary, is no dry document from the past. It is a work of art.30
While Mary encouraged the search for exotic new markets, she also knew that domestic commerce and industry must be supported. Guilds, towns and boroughs were seen as potential sources of wealth, and it was recognised that a more coherent structure for local government would be of benefit to the country as a whole. Guilds were strengthened, apprenticeship laws enforced and the mobility of workers restricted.This would appal 21st-century advocates of market forces, but free enterprise was not a concept appreciated by Mary and her government. They thought English domestic prosperity could best be achieved by protecting traditional institutions and industries, and Parliament agreed with them. A conservative approach was typified by the legislation passed by the parliament of 1555; it was cantankerous on matters of religion but its achievements in social and economic legislation were considerable. Local authorities were able to issue licences to beggars, in an attempt to handle vagrancy more successfully, and, for those who were in work, there was legislation to ensure that they stayed employed, where they were, so that they did not add to the problem. The right to weave was confined to those living in corporate towns, and t
he number of looms operated by any one individual was restricted. Two years later, the Woollen Cloth Act reinforced this determination to manage the manufacture of what was still the country’s main industrial staple, by placing heavy fines on manufacturers who tried to set up independently.
To make local government and industry more efficient, and civic dignitaries more amenable, the Crown encouraged incorporation of towns and boroughs.They were the front line in administering law and order in England and in dealing with burgeoning social problems. Mary granted more than twice the number of charters per year compared to her predecessors and was working towards a uniform standard for the structure and power of municipal governments. Towns could act as corporate entities before the law, enabling them to hold lands that might be sold or let as a source of income for education, poor relief and public works.They were also able to issue by-laws, providing them with a local framework for justice. Incorporation was a matter of local pride and many of these charters were still being used as instruments of government right up till 1835. The charter incorporating the borough of Wycombe in Buckinghamshire is typical of the privileges granted to many others. In this case, the loyalty of the town during the succession crisis of 1553 and Wyatt’s rebellion was noted.The mayor, two bailiffs and burgesses would be a ‘body corporate and politic … able to plead and be impleaded in all courts and places both spiritual and temporal’. They were empowered to hold a court at least once every three weeks, ‘with full power to hear and determine all pleas of debt, account, covenant, contract, force and arms’.31 And to facilitate local trade and industry, a market was granted weekly, with major fairs twice a year.
Mary could take comfort from the fact that the conduct of local government was mainly in the hands of people she trusted. Here the queen’s supporters played a large part. Her marriage to Philip of Spain was of international significance, but Mary ruled the shires of England through the relatives and friends of those with whom she had long-standing ties. Lords lieutenant in the counties and justices of the peace were frequently appointed as the result of their kinship to someone in this network. All were good Catholics in the queen’s eyes. Marriage to Philip may have reduced the influence of Mary’s wider affinity on matters of state, but in terms of English daily life, they remained an important force.
Certainly a level of centralisation was required to tackle the severe problems of famine and disease that beset Mary’s reign. Measures of social welfare were needed on a nationwide scale, and the Marian regime did not throw up its hands and leave the outcome to God. In London, five charities were brought together to provide a city-wide system of poor relief. Failed harvests meant that proclamations had to be used to provide for the distribution of grain where the situation was most desperate. Laws against grain-hoarders were vigorously enforced and systematic surveys of stocks undertaken. In Yorkshire in 1557, justices of the peace were appointed with specific responsibility for overseeing this process.
Throughout Mary’s reign there was another trend that had considerable impact on English prosperity. This was a sustained effort to overhaul financial management and provide a better underpinning for the economy as a whole. Financing the cost of government itself was a constant difficulty, as Mary’s predecessors well knew. The crux of the problem was that the financial structure was medieval and had not remotely kept pace with the requirements of an early-modern monarchy. Ireland alone cost Mary nearly £40,000 a year and household charges had spiralled, with no overhaul since 1519, when Mary was only three years old. But worse still were areas that should have brought in revenue, such as the exchequer and various of the other ancient departments originally set up to provide income, but now little more than the preserve of placemen. And an absolute priority was to restore the currency, the foundation on which everything else depended. Henry VIII and Edward VI had both debased the coinage. Minting continued through most of Mary’s reign and plans were put in place between 1556 and 1558 for a major recoinage, but these had to be shelved in the face of the mounting pressures of war, dearth and disease. The plans formed the basis for the great Elizabethan recoinage carried out in 1560—61, however.
Reform of the exchequer had long been anticipated, but Mary was able to put it into practice.The project was handed to the aged marquess of Winchester, a long-time servant of the Crown but, as someone who had carried out her father’s orders for the treatment of Mary and her mother in the 1530s, scarcely a confidant.Winchester duly amalgamated the courts of Augmentation and First Fruits and Tenths into the exchequer, but his attempts to stamp out corruption, rife as it probably was, involved reverting to accountancy methods so ancient that Mary would have none of them. She wanted the more advanced methods of accounting and auditing developed in the King’s Chamber, which demonstrates that she had a far better financial grasp than her critics have claimed. Mary was not fascinated by figures, but as someone who had signed off her accounts since she was in her early twenties and a woman of property on a large scale, she appreciated the importance of a well-run fiscal organisation. But she may have suspected that Winchester was as interested in his own aggrandisement as he was in good practice at the exchequer, and in 1557 she moved him across to a different but nonetheless important area of responsibility, the financial administration of the navy.
The main achievement of these years in bringing revenues to the Crown was the extensive overhaul of customs and excise. This was a corollary of the drive to increase trade, but it also tapped unused sources of income. Hundreds of commodities remained untaxed, and those that were were taxed on the basis of valuations going back as far as 1507. Rampant inflation of 350 per cent made them completely useless. A new Book of Rates was introduced, surviving almost unchanged until 1604. Most of the revisions and additions were on non-essential imported goods, a move intended to help English industry. Customs collection was centralised, thus ensuring that money came directly to the Crown instead of being creamed off by the multitude of professional collectors who were awarded receivership rights for political support. Sir Francis Englefield, a Mary loyalist, was awarded the post of Surveyor General of the Customs for the Port of London.This role was extended nationwide under Elizabeth, until she reverted to the old system of individual collectors in the 1570s. As a means of rewarding service it was too tempting, but decentralisation was a retrograde step.
Sound financial management meant leading by example. The royal household itself was subject to scrutiny. A report of 1555 looked in detail at possible reductions in costs and wages. It made uncomfortable reading. Wages were far too high and the requirement to feed, clothe, house and educate members of the household and their families was proving an unacceptable burden. The report suggested strongly that liberties were being taken with royal generosity and that this must stop, no matter how much offence was caused: ‘£396 [per annum] is paid for clothing 21 ladies and gentlemen under warrant dormant. There is no precedent for such largesse.’ But even more tricky was the amount that the monarch spent on herself:‘I place in this category’, wrote the unsparing auditor, ‘clothing for adorning the royal person, bed coverlets, material for horsecloths and litters, with other equipment for horses and mules. In his tenth year, HenryVIII spent £1631 and in his eleventh only £911, on the wardrobe of the robes, the wardrobe of the beds, on the stable and on saddles and harnesses.’ And what had his daughter done? ‘In her first year, the queen spent £5100 on the same … Henry VIII, who had two minstrels, gave £29 annually to both. Since she has 38 minstrels [a comment revealing just how much Mary loved music], the queen gives £572 annually for clothing.’ Then came the crunch. ‘In summary: the largesse of Henry VIII amounted to £4300 in 1518/19. The largesse of the queen [in 1553/4] amounted to £9600. If warrants dormant, or grants of the same certain kind, were reduced to an annual £1000 and those uncertain could be contained to £3000, the expense of the wardrobe would diminish to £4300, and so a great decrease from the present charge would ensue.’32 Although this summation was written 450 years ago, it
would surely meet the approval of a modern financial adviser. Basically, Madam was too kind-hearted to those around her and utterly self-indulgent when it came to clothes and entertainment. Mary Tudor was human, after all. In the queen’s defence, it should be pointed out that the very high expenses of the first two years of her reign were caused by her coronation and marriage. But, so far as we can tell, she never did cut back her spending on her wardrobe.
Nevertheless, as the reign progressed, Mary was presiding over a series of laudable initiatives that were beginning to improve life in England. Stability and tranquillity, however, remained elusive goals. The threat of intrigue and the prospect of war were ever present. For wherever Elizabeth was, there also lurked deceit. And wherever Philip, Mary’s husband, might be, in England or in Brussels, there was another inescapable reality: sooner or later, his troubles would be England’s, too.
Chapter Twelve
Triumph and Disaster
‘And I do humbly beseech my said most dearest lord and husband to accept of my bequest and to keep for a memory of me one jewel, being a table diamond which the emperor’s majesty, his and my most honourable father, sent unto me…
Queen Mary’s will, 30 March 1558
Mary kept up a regular correspondence with Philip while he was in Brussels, providing him with information and seeking his views. The king replied with advice, comments and sometimes instructions; it was not just a one-way flow. In other respects he was less dutiful. Freed from his wife’s smothering attentions, he apparently embarked on a couple of liaisons with attractive ladies of the Flemish court.There was gossip about his infidelities in London, though it may not have reached Mary’s ears. But she missed him terribly and it took her almost a year to adapt to his absence. During that period, she sent Charles V a series of imploring and increasingly bitter letters, pleading for her husband’s return.The rational part of her realised the difficulties, yet ‘I cannot’, she told the emperor, ‘but deeply feel the solitude in which the king’s absence leaves me. As your majesty well knows, he is the chief joy and comfort I have in this world’.1 No doubt Charles felt the same. He needed Philip, too. He could not yet leave the Low Countries for the retreat he so desperately desired; the European situation was too uncertain. The coffers of the Netherlands were empty and, despite a truce with France negotiated by Philip in February 1556, war did not seem far away. Charles V and his son might be good Catholics, but they were still hated by the aggressive and anti-Spanish Gianpietro Caraffa, an Italian who had become pope in 1555 as Paul IV. Caraffa was 80 years old but age had not calmed his spleen. He wanted the Habsburgs out of Italy. It could only be a matter of time before he allied with the French in a renewed military campaign, with serious implications for Philip and potentially embarrassing ones for Mary and her country, not long returned to papal authority.