Good idea... I will ask Matthias though, as I feel rude about completely ignoring him over the Russian marriage. Other than this, the timeline is rolling along nicely, and with any luck I will update it tonight or tomorrow.
A Kynge of the True Faithe
- Thread starter Basileus Giorgios
- Start date
Good idea... I will ask Matthias though, as I feel rude about completely ignoring him over the Russian marriage. Other than this, the timeline is rolling along nicely, and with any luck I will update it tonight or tomorrow.
The events of the year 1557 had been something of an anticlimax outside of France. Suleiman the Magnificent had been struck down by a bad stomach illness and was forced to remain in Constantinople, allowing the Hapsburgs to regain the initiative in South Italy. Though their attempts to seize Bari and Otranto back from the Turks were utterly defeated, in pitched battle they had considerably more success. At the Battle of Evalino, a Turkish army aiming to deliver a knockout blow by attacking Naples had been soundly defeated. By the end of the year, aside from the “liberation” of a couple of coastal fortresses by the Spanish, the strategic situation had advanced no further than it had done a year previously.
Satisfied that his dominion was at peace, the Emperor Charles V chose Christmas Day, 1557, to retire from the throne of the Holy Roman Emperor, and retreat to a monastic life. The Hapsburg lands were divided, between his son Philip, who gained Spain, and all the family’s possessions in the Western Mediterranean, including Sardinia and Tunis, and his brother Ferdinand, who took over Austria and (owing to the heightened Ottoman threat), all of Hapsburg Italy too.
Initially, there was some tension between Philip and his uncle over Naples, but the new King of Spain quickly found that he had enough problems of his own to deal with. By the end of the 1550s, economies across Europe were being wrecked by Philip’s extensive new world colonies, and their unceasing flood of gold into the economies of Spain and her rivals. This caused massive inflation, and major unrest in the Spanish countryside, not helped by continuing Ottoman attacks on the coastal fortresses of Philip’s realm. By 1560, the loss of Naples had become something of a blessing in disguise.
Philip of Spain had another problem; he needed to shore up his position by obtaining a wife. Unfortunately for him, by the time of his accession, there were few plausible candidates. In the end he plumped for Maria de’ Medici, eldest daughter of Cosimo de’ Medici, a close ally of the Hapsburgs in North Italy. Cosimo had participated in the Papal expedition against the Turks in 1556, and had been rewarded with the title of Grand Duke of Tuscany. His daughter, a headstrong and intelligent woman had almost succumbed to malaria the next year, but was able to recover, and establish close ties with her father’s closest ally, the newly crowned Emperor Ferdinand. Aged eighteen, she seemed the perfect match for Philip, eager to secure his influence in Italy, and the marriage took place in the spring of 1558, after Philip and Ferdinand personally intervened to break up a previous match between Maria and the Duke of Ferrara, Alfonso.
Edward VI spent the winter of 1557 with his best friend Barnaby Fitzpatrick, whom Edward had appointed to hold several senior positions in Ireland, notably that of Governor of Dublin. Fitzpatrick, aged twenty two, had been an old school friend of the King, and their relationship was a deep one; indeed, a handful of Edward’s most vocal critics spoke darkly of homosexual behaviour. This seems unlikely however, given the praise and love the King immediately lavished on his bride. Elisabeth, for her part, was unsure how to respond. She was twelve, he was twenty. She was a member of the House of Valois, which had controlled France for centuries; he was the grandson of an upstart usurper with a tenuous claim to the throne. Most critically of all, she was a devout Catholic.
It was this that encouraged the Catholics to take their chance, in February 1558. Prior to this, Edward had begun to reverse a handful of his measures; the enforcement of the Chantries Act of 1547 had been toned down, in order to appease his French allies. Seeing weakness, the Catholics decided to move quickly. Support quickly coalesced around the young Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Howard, who had no desire to overthrow the King, only to force him to moderate his reformation. Accordingly, he focused on the man who had led the English reformation for over twenty five years; Archbishop Thomas Cranmer.
The man chosen for the attack was a hitherto obscure northern peasant by the name of John Richards. Brought down to London by Norfolk, he was sent into action against the Archbishop on the cold morning of March 2nd, 1558. As Cranmer left Lambeth Palace, Richards leapt on the elderly Archbishop, stabbing him wildly. Though he was quickly hauled off and killed by the Archbishop’s guards, the damage had been done. Cranmer had been fatally wounded, and he knew it. Word was sent to King Edward and Northumberland, both of whom hurried down to Lambeth Palace as quickly as they could. There, Cranmer offered the young King his last advice on how to continue the Reformation after his death, and wished him well. With that, Thomas Cranmer, Archbishop of Canterbury, passed away.
The King was furious, and it quickly became clear to the plotters that their intention to intimidate him out of any further reform would end in disaster. Immediately, Norfolk left Bedford, where he had been waiting and headed north to York, safely out of the way of royal fury. Edward now unleashed upon the Catholics of England a wave of persecutions unseen before or since. When Elisabeth attempted to calm her husband, he coldly repelled her, and they did not see each other again until November. Meanwhile, the King appointed Edmund Grindal, a committed Protestant, as Archbishop of Canterbury, and settled down to break the back of English Catholicism once and for all.
It would prove to be a nightmarish year for all concerned. Edward immediately instigated a program of burning at the stake for all those who failed to support the Royal Supremacy, and began a witch hunt amongst the nobility for those responsible for Cranmer’s murder. Northumberland, to his horror, found himself under suspicion; it was only the intervention of Fitzpatrick that saved the Duke from a swift execution. Several minor nobles were beheaded, but in the end, 1558 was not as terrible a year as it could have been, due to the intervention of Henry II of France. Furious at the news of the persecution of his co-religionists, Henry immediately threatened to cancel the alliance and acknowledge Mary (still languishing in Rome at the time) as legitimate Queen of England. To prove his deadly seriousness, he assembled an army and marched on Calais.
It was only the threats of his father in law that persuaded Edward to climb down. On November 8th, he issued a general pardon to the Catholic community, and formally ended the burnings, which had claimed the lives of 46 Catholic martyrs. The following day, he was officially reconciled with his Queen, and she began to gradually, little by little, moderate his faith. Elisabeth advised her husband “not to make windows into men’s’ souls”, a policy which would largely stay with King Edward VI for the rest of his reign. Outright Catholicism would still be punished severely, but in churches across the country, a few sparks of the old faith reignited; stained glass windows began to re-emerge, as did a few of the old paintings and icons. It was not a return to 1547, let alone one to 1529, as the Catholics would have wished for, but as far as Edward was capable of moderating his position, this was it.
Satisfied that his dominion was at peace, the Emperor Charles V chose Christmas Day, 1557, to retire from the throne of the Holy Roman Emperor, and retreat to a monastic life. The Hapsburg lands were divided, between his son Philip, who gained Spain, and all the family’s possessions in the Western Mediterranean, including Sardinia and Tunis, and his brother Ferdinand, who took over Austria and (owing to the heightened Ottoman threat), all of Hapsburg Italy too.
Initially, there was some tension between Philip and his uncle over Naples, but the new King of Spain quickly found that he had enough problems of his own to deal with. By the end of the 1550s, economies across Europe were being wrecked by Philip’s extensive new world colonies, and their unceasing flood of gold into the economies of Spain and her rivals. This caused massive inflation, and major unrest in the Spanish countryside, not helped by continuing Ottoman attacks on the coastal fortresses of Philip’s realm. By 1560, the loss of Naples had become something of a blessing in disguise.
Philip of Spain had another problem; he needed to shore up his position by obtaining a wife. Unfortunately for him, by the time of his accession, there were few plausible candidates. In the end he plumped for Maria de’ Medici, eldest daughter of Cosimo de’ Medici, a close ally of the Hapsburgs in North Italy. Cosimo had participated in the Papal expedition against the Turks in 1556, and had been rewarded with the title of Grand Duke of Tuscany. His daughter, a headstrong and intelligent woman had almost succumbed to malaria the next year, but was able to recover, and establish close ties with her father’s closest ally, the newly crowned Emperor Ferdinand. Aged eighteen, she seemed the perfect match for Philip, eager to secure his influence in Italy, and the marriage took place in the spring of 1558, after Philip and Ferdinand personally intervened to break up a previous match between Maria and the Duke of Ferrara, Alfonso.
Edward VI spent the winter of 1557 with his best friend Barnaby Fitzpatrick, whom Edward had appointed to hold several senior positions in Ireland, notably that of Governor of Dublin. Fitzpatrick, aged twenty two, had been an old school friend of the King, and their relationship was a deep one; indeed, a handful of Edward’s most vocal critics spoke darkly of homosexual behaviour. This seems unlikely however, given the praise and love the King immediately lavished on his bride. Elisabeth, for her part, was unsure how to respond. She was twelve, he was twenty. She was a member of the House of Valois, which had controlled France for centuries; he was the grandson of an upstart usurper with a tenuous claim to the throne. Most critically of all, she was a devout Catholic.
It was this that encouraged the Catholics to take their chance, in February 1558. Prior to this, Edward had begun to reverse a handful of his measures; the enforcement of the Chantries Act of 1547 had been toned down, in order to appease his French allies. Seeing weakness, the Catholics decided to move quickly. Support quickly coalesced around the young Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Howard, who had no desire to overthrow the King, only to force him to moderate his reformation. Accordingly, he focused on the man who had led the English reformation for over twenty five years; Archbishop Thomas Cranmer.
The man chosen for the attack was a hitherto obscure northern peasant by the name of John Richards. Brought down to London by Norfolk, he was sent into action against the Archbishop on the cold morning of March 2nd, 1558. As Cranmer left Lambeth Palace, Richards leapt on the elderly Archbishop, stabbing him wildly. Though he was quickly hauled off and killed by the Archbishop’s guards, the damage had been done. Cranmer had been fatally wounded, and he knew it. Word was sent to King Edward and Northumberland, both of whom hurried down to Lambeth Palace as quickly as they could. There, Cranmer offered the young King his last advice on how to continue the Reformation after his death, and wished him well. With that, Thomas Cranmer, Archbishop of Canterbury, passed away.
The King was furious, and it quickly became clear to the plotters that their intention to intimidate him out of any further reform would end in disaster. Immediately, Norfolk left Bedford, where he had been waiting and headed north to York, safely out of the way of royal fury. Edward now unleashed upon the Catholics of England a wave of persecutions unseen before or since. When Elisabeth attempted to calm her husband, he coldly repelled her, and they did not see each other again until November. Meanwhile, the King appointed Edmund Grindal, a committed Protestant, as Archbishop of Canterbury, and settled down to break the back of English Catholicism once and for all.
It would prove to be a nightmarish year for all concerned. Edward immediately instigated a program of burning at the stake for all those who failed to support the Royal Supremacy, and began a witch hunt amongst the nobility for those responsible for Cranmer’s murder. Northumberland, to his horror, found himself under suspicion; it was only the intervention of Fitzpatrick that saved the Duke from a swift execution. Several minor nobles were beheaded, but in the end, 1558 was not as terrible a year as it could have been, due to the intervention of Henry II of France. Furious at the news of the persecution of his co-religionists, Henry immediately threatened to cancel the alliance and acknowledge Mary (still languishing in Rome at the time) as legitimate Queen of England. To prove his deadly seriousness, he assembled an army and marched on Calais.
It was only the threats of his father in law that persuaded Edward to climb down. On November 8th, he issued a general pardon to the Catholic community, and formally ended the burnings, which had claimed the lives of 46 Catholic martyrs. The following day, he was officially reconciled with his Queen, and she began to gradually, little by little, moderate his faith. Elisabeth advised her husband “not to make windows into men’s’ souls”, a policy which would largely stay with King Edward VI for the rest of his reign. Outright Catholicism would still be punished severely, but in churches across the country, a few sparks of the old faith reignited; stained glass windows began to re-emerge, as did a few of the old paintings and icons. It was not a return to 1547, let alone one to 1529, as the Catholics would have wished for, but as far as Edward was capable of moderating his position, this was it.
This timeline will be continued (or possibly restarted and relaunched), at some point soon. For now though, I'm having a blitz on Isaac's Empire. If readers would care to throw in some ideas, then it might get me back in the writing mood...