Biography of Richard Hooker, Wikipedia
Overview
Richard Hooker (25 March, 1554 – 15th April 1597) was an English priest in the Church of England and an influential theologian. Born in Devon, Hooker became part of the Brownist movement within the Church of England to separate Church and State and reduce Episcopal oversight of individual Churches. In 1589 he became embroiled in the Marprelate Controversy and was forced to resign his incumbency as Rector of St Mary’s Corringham in Essex.
Following the controversy, Hooker led a number of Brownist congregations in East Anglia before departing for Scotland in 1591 at the invitation of Andrew Melville, the prominent Scottish Academic, Theologian and Presbyterian. It was from St Andrews in the winter of 1591 that Hooker wrote his most influential work ‘The Chosen Vessel’ in which Hooker advanced his ideas of Presbyterianism and Disestablishment. This work won him many supporters across the Protestant world especially in Scotland, the home counties, and the Netherlands but it also received much opposition from the established Church, in particular the newly crowned King Richard I of Scotland.
Following the ‘Iron Laws’ of King Richard passed in the Spring of 1592 Hooker and his Presbyterian brethren were forced to flee Scotland, first to London and then to Amsterdam where they established The Nord College for Presbyterian Clergy. From here Hooker continued to have great influence upon the Presbyterian cause, including his levying of Church and State leadership across Northern Europe. It was during one of these efforts to London that he was assassinated during the Red March of 1597.
Edinburgh Castle, January 22nd 1592
Lady Margaret Seymour stepped from the carriage into the shallow snow filling the Castle courtyard. Her long dark woollen gown was lined with fur, as was the hood which she raised to protect her face and ears. It had little effect, and the cold penetrated her bones serving to make her even more uncomfortable. One of her servants and a bodyguard rushed to grab her by the arms, and with their support she made it quickly inside the huge hallway which had been opened to greet them.
Out of the snow the Castle was little warmer. The grey stones which covered floor, walls and ceiling seemed to suck any warmth from the air as they disappeared into the bowels of the Castle. It was around noon, but torches were lit in the wide halls to give some light, though no heat. Margaret took a breath. She had made it. Two long weeks on the road in the depths of winter had not been pleasant. She had not wanted to come at all, let alone through the foul weather and rough roads, but her Emperor commanded and so she obeyed.
An array of servants and officials lined the sterile walls bowing as she passed, but all were silent, and none said a word. Finally a tall pale man with a thin moustache stepped to his front, turned and bowed at Margaret and her small party, who by now had backed off a respectable distance. ‘John Erskine, my lady’ the thin man said ‘Royal Steward, welcome to Edinburgh, his Grace has asked for you to be brought to his audience chamber upon your arrival.’
The address was curt, polite and formal. Erskine spoke with an almost cleanly English accent, and just a hint of Scot around the ‘r’s. Without waiting for a reply, the Steward turned and Margaret followed. The route through Edinburgh Castle’s underbelly turned and twisted, twice Erskine led them up stairs where Margaret had to pick up her gown, hurriedly aided by one of her maids. All the while Erskine remained silent and continued his steady unbroken pace barely glancing back. His silence unnerved Margaret. She had met polite, deferential servants for all of her short 13 years, but Erskine seemed almost rude with his polite silence. And he was a steward, didn’t the future Queen of Scotland warrant more than a household servant? These thoughts did nothing to settle the young Seymour as they arrived at two broad oak doors, flanked by a pair of soldiers equipped with firearms – surely English made.
With a brisk push John Erskine pushed open the doors and made to step inside the large hall beyond. At the last moment he turned half back to Margaret, the first time he had done so. ‘Wait here’ he said and strode into the hall. It was full of people; ladies in fine gowns, men in tight doublets and tights, servants wearing the blue and gold livery of Scotland, more soldiers with their English weapons. They chatted excitedly, paying no attention to the recent arrival, or the servant now scything through their midst. A wall of windows down one side brought light into the room, but it was absorbed by the sheer number of bodies, giving Erskine the look of a man walking down a narrow, dark chasm, as he strode to the front of the hall where his master was seated.
King Richard I of Scotland was seated on a large stone chair, adorned with blue and gold drapes and raised above the crowd by a couple of steps. In the space before him the crowd stood a respectable distance, leaving a wide expanse into which the Royal Steward now stepped. Erskine bowed deeply. Richard continued his conversation. To his right stood a man in a gold and white doublet, his black hair and beard, flecked with grey, close cropped under a hat which looked to be made of white silk. He and the King were talking furtively, leaning close to keep their words private. Occasionally the other man would wave his right hand in the air, and the King would nod in agreement.
Their conversation continued until the noise in the room died down. One by one people spotted the King’s new bride in the doorway in her black robes and turned to look. The men quickly glanced away, but a few women stared Margaret down, taking her in like a prize sow at a market. As the chatter dropped, King Richard seemed to see John Erskine for the first time, the thin man standing tall, stiff and straight in the centre of the space in front of his King; he gave the appearance of a scarecrow. Even from 70 or so yards Margaret saw King Richard glance at his steward, then behind to his future wife standing in the doorway, and back to the Steward. With a sigh Richard finally said ‘Well?’ He drew out every syllable, rolling the ‘l’s from his tongue like a disgusting taste.
Erskine bowed once more ‘the Lady Margaret Seymour your grace’ he said, then stepped to the side melting into the crowd. Every eye in the room turned to fix her once more. Anne Walker, Margaret’s governess, gave her a small push in the back, and before she knew it Margaret was slicing through the shadows of the narrow aisle down the centre of the hall. Every head and eyeball turned to follow her as she walked. She knew she was blushing, she couldn’t help it. All the work they’d put into her pale complexion would be ruined. She could feel her bottom lip twitching, and she fought to keep it still.
Finally, she reached the spot where Erskine had once stood. Carefully, she crouched into a curtsey keeping her back straight as Anne had taught her. ‘My Lord’ she said in greeting. For what seemed like an hour, but could have only been seconds, King Richard stared at her, like the farmer in the market wondering if the sow was maimed in some way. He leaned forward, his blue doublet tightening over the paunch of a man twice his 20 or so years. His face was tight, half-concealed beneath a straggle of brown and orange beard. His pale blue eyes pierced her own, the first person to actually make eye contact with her since she had arrived. Eventually the King slumped back into his chair ‘I wae told yer Da wae t come’ he said. The accent was thick like churned butter. Hadn't the King received elocution lessons? Or perhaps he was trying to unnerve her. If it was the latter, he was succeeding.
Margaret stared, keeping her back straight even as her future husband slouched in his chair, he seemed to be going into a sulk. Thinking quickly she replied ‘my father sends his apologies my Lord, the death of my grandfather has given him many duties at this difficult time’. She prayed she had heard the King correctly as she glanced at her own mourning dress. Nothing about this was right; she was in mourning, it was winter, the King himself had lost a wife and father in the last year but wasn’t in mourning she was still only a girl really, why was she here? Why was she marrying him?
King Richard hauled himself begrudgingly to his feet ‘Aye, a heard, m’sympathies’ he said in a flat, level delivery which conveyed anything but sympathy. Tugging his rich blue doublet tight and straight, Richard stepped down from his chair until he was level with Margaret. His eyes were still only level with the top of her head despite her young age and stature; the King was rather short. His blue eyes continued to search her expression for something: emotion? Fear? Any sign of weakness? The man in white and gold followed his King down the steps to Richard’s side, unbidden and took up the staring contest too. With a sharp motion like a viper Richard gripped Margaret’s hand and raised it to his mouth. His stare never wavered, remaining on a spot between her eyebrows the entire time. He kissed her hand gently. The kiss, like the grip of his hand, was cold, dry, and harsh. His eyes continued to stare at her.
King Richard dropped the hand and turned swiftly to his companion, his back to Margaret and they whispered for several minutes. Margaret only caught words like ‘dinnae’, ‘lass’ and ‘nae ken’ from her betrothed. She worked desperately to make sense of them, but it didn’t sound good. In the end the other man placed a hand on the King’s shoulder, whispered something and nodded twice, glancing over his shoulder at Margaret.
Abruptly Richard spun back around and re-acquired his cold stare. ‘Welcome’ he said, as if he were a bad actor reading a script. ‘John will show you to your chambers, and your new servants. Your own servants are dismissed and may return to England.' Margaret opened her mouth to protest, and she could feel Anne Walker about to do the same behind her. Anne and the rest were Margaret’s servants, Richard had no authority over them, especially before the wedding.
Margaret Seymour did not think it possible for her betrothed’s stare to harden anymore but somehow it did, and he brusquely raised a flat palm to the women before him to kill their riposte in their throats. ‘I regret this decision’ The King said without conveying any regret ‘but security in the castle is paramount, and I only trust my own servants. Your own household will be supplied. The Duke of Lennox here has kindly agreed to give you away at the ceremony.’ He indicated the man in white and gold behind him. ‘It will take place in four days time. You are to remain in your chambers before then. You are dismissed.’ And with that he turned his back on his wife to be and marched through a small door to the side of the stone chair.
Margaret’s mind was reeling. Four days until her wedding? Her entire household dismissed and thrown out of the Castle? A stranger, and a hostile one at that, to give her away? Nothing about this made any sense. But Richard had already gone and Erskine was returning. Without making eye contact, our slowing, he said ‘follow me my lady’ and marched past her to the exit.
There Margaret saw the initial signs of peril. For the first time Erskine had gotten close enough for her to see the tired look in his eyes, the red welts around his neck, and the stiff leather collar which undoubtedly caused them. Margaret had only seen such collars once before – around the necks of criminals being taken to Buckingham to be hanged – and this new fact hit her hardest of all.
As if caught in an inexorable current, Margaret Seymour, future Queen of Scotland, turned and followed her escort out of the door. Anne was trying to hiss something to her, but the young woman was lost in thought over her situation. What kind of place had she come to? And who was she about to marry? But worst of all, what if the rumours about Lady Elizabeth’s death were true?
‘Pocket Biographies: Tricky King Dickie – Scotland’s most infamous King’ J Forestall, 2019
It is a deep irony that the demise of Yorkist Britannia should be instigated by someone born wholly outside of it, and one who at his birth held such promise for that realm. King Richard I of Scotland was born in 1571 to James VI of Scotland and Anna Plantagenet, daughter to the Britannic Emperor, Edward I. Thus Richard was both the son of Scotland’s King and grandson to Britannia’s Emperor. In his birth lay the hopes for many south of the border to finally bring Scotland into the Empire.
At the time of Richard’s birth, Scotland had been under the Britannic (mostly English) yoke for almost a century. Although not part of the Empire, multiple wars, colonial disputes and trade embargoes demonstrated that Scotland was part of Britannia’s sphere of influence, if not politically allied with it. The realm was increasingly divided over this and other issues. The wealthy merchants desired Union for their own gain whilst most landowners and commoners, fiercely protective over Scottish independence, sought any meagre means to preserve their own autonomy.
However the issue of religion split this bloc down the middle. Scotland had long been impacted by the Reformation, although it had taken a different form to that in the Britannic Empire. Whereas the Church of England/Britannia retained its Bishops and Imperial oversight (such as appointing the Archbishop of Canterbury) Scotland under James VI had done away with Bishops and was fast becoming a Presbyterian stronghold. Presbyterianism in Scotland was characterised by anti-episcopalism, anti-ecclesiasticism and new-found autonomy. Theologians like Melville suggested that Bishops and other authority beyond the local Church was a Catholic invention and anathema to the original Church established by Christ. Presbyters, groups of elders, were a far more Biblical way to run a Church. Unsurprisingly the common folk and peasantry strongly supported these views but the nobility were generally opposed.
James VI, a popular King and one keen to win common acclaim, had consequently removed the use of Bishops and personally approved the Book of Discipline, an early Presbyterian manual and treatise. James had been able to swing the nobility to these plans with taxation cuts and an ideological appeal to Scottish independence (Bishops were a rather ‘Anglican’ idea). Richard I represented a complete U-turn from his fathers’ policies. To understand why we need to understand the man himself.
Richard I was a sickly boy who spent much of his childhood at Roxburgh Castle in the borders under the care of James Douglas, Earl of Morton. In many ways Morton was a surrogate father to the young Prince as James VI spent much of his time in Edinburgh and further north hunting or politicking. Richard’s mother Anna was also distant, although this was due to her care of Richard’s younger sister Anne who died in 1583 aged eight. This, combined with the stillbirth of Richard’s older sister Margaret in 1569 transpired to send Anna into a deep bout of depression and melancholy and she was rarely seen before her own death in 1587. Thus when Morton himself died in 1588 and James VI in 1591, Richard became King of Scotland at the age of 20 with all the family he had known in the world dead.
This sense of loss was only compounded by the death of Richard’s first wife in 1590, Lady Elizabeth Cavendish. James VI, with some Plantagenet prodding, had made an English match for his son and the two were married in 1586 when they were both 16. Unfortunately, two still-births then followed – both girls – before Elizabeth tragically died in a fire a few months before her husband became King. The circumstances surrounding Elizabeth Cavendish’s death have been hotly debated; she perished in a fire which consumed Linlithgow Castle in November 1590. Fires in such palaces were not uncommon, but almost immediately tales of foul play began to circulate with the finger of blame resting firmly on Duke Lennox.
With such loss in his life, and an English marriage that Richard resented, it is unsurprising that he sought stability and companionship elsewhere. Thus in 1579 when the Duke of Lennox returned from France he immediately fell into Richard’s circle. Lennox was a born Catholic and half French, but in the wake of the Huguenot expulsions and his own conversion he sought refuge in Scotland, the land of his father, and in the home of James Douglas a family friend. It was here that Lennox met Richard and an unlikely friendship formed. Given the distance in age, talk of a sexual relationship between the two (as suggested by countless TV series and films over the years) seems unlikely. Instead Lennox filled Morton’s shoes as the father figure Richard needed. Lennox, however, was deeply unliked in Scotland; the nobility disliked him for his proximity to Richard and his preening whilst the rest of the country despised his more conservative brand of Protestantism which tended against the Presbyterian trend.
When Richard became King of Scotland in 1591 he was a man confronted with loss in life, without an heir, and with only the Duke of Lennox whom he trusted. What we know of his early years tells us that Richard was an intensely private man, but soon his penchant for control freakery became clear. In a savage parody of the Yorkist Black and White Books, Richard I ordered strict rules for all Royal servants including punishing hours and harsh leather collars designed to enforce a stiff posture upon the wearer but in reality they inflicted terrible pain on the Royal staff.
In 2013 renovations to a scullery in Edinburgh Castle unearthed the unprecedented ‘scullery letters’. These fragments of paper and carved wood – early modern graffiti – concealed behind a brick wall are estimated to originate in the 1590s and read as a list of complaints about King Richard and his ‘diverse evil trickery’. The name ‘Tricky King Dickie’ stuck from there.
At this point it is worth addressing the elephant in the room; did Richard I suffer from mental health problems? 21st century History seems obsessed with diagnosing long-dead rulers with the latest mental malady. Richard himself has been diagnosed in recent years as schizophrenic, ADHD, manic depressive and Autistic. It is the belief of this author that all of these diagnoses are anachronistic and fall short of understanding the man Richard I was. True, he was not a nice man, but to ascribe this malice to mental health issues is offensive to those who genuinely suffer such problems. Richard was a man under pressure and suffering great loss, he saw threats to his rule and stuck by those he considered loyal to him. He was not insane, merely a product of his time and circumstances. In his later reign, Richard I would incur plenty of charges of tyranny, insanity and mental instability but in his early years his decisions can be characterised by self-preservation and genuine conviction, even if they were controversial.
Richard saw his Father’s policies towards the Presbyterians, and the laissez faire approach of Emperor Edward to Puritanism, and completely swung a 180 degree U-turn. Upon his death, James VI had been regularly meeting with Andrew Melville, Richard Hooker and others to continue the reform of the Church in Scotland. James VI had effectively surrendered all authority over religion to Melville and his clique, allowing for the selection of Presbyters to run individual Churches. The transition of Scotland to a Presbyterian nation was well under way. Richard stopped everything.
Richard’s temperament toward Presbyterians had been long known before 1591. In the few years before James VI’s death, Richard had staunchly opposed his father’s support for Presbyterians in Council and had to be removed during a debate over the repeal of Bishops after he threatened Melville personally. Any hopes that Richard would take a more conciliatory approach upon becoming King were dashed when his demands for his coronation were made clear. Traditionally the Archbishop of St Andrews had officiated the coronation, but with James VI having sacked the last Archbishop, the old King had laid out in his will that his personal Chaplain was to officiate the ceremony. Richard disregarded this and requested that Edmund Scambler, Archbishop of Canterbury, officiate instead. This caused a political uproar in Scotland who saw this as the King attempting to bring in English control of the Church. Scambler in the end declined but made a radical suggestion which was unbelievably accepted.
So it was that John Whitgift, the tub-thumper of the Anglican cause and scourge of the Presbyterians and Puritans, coronated King Richard I and went on to deliver a ‘sermon’ that was a not even veiled attack against Melville, Hooker and their ilk. The coronation not only established a long-term friendship between Whtigift and Richard but was a clarion call for the new King’s direction.
Over the next five years King Richard I made a number of harsh moves against Presbyterians in Scotland in attempt to re-establish Royal control over the Church. The 1592 Iron Laws included an Act of Supremacy similar to the one passed in England almost 50 years before making Richard head of the Church. They also included an outright ban on Presbyters and instead created Bishops and an Ecclesiastical hierarchy as in England. Finally, Richard directly attacked Presbyterians by banning the Book of Discipline which his father had championed and issuing orders of banishment on over 100 prominent Presbyterian clergy and academics including Melville and Hooker.
The Iron Laws met with some opposition in Scotland, the Montrose Abstinence to name just one, but this opposition was handicapped from the start. Without the prominent leadership, or many elites to coordinate the opposition, much of the backlash against the Iron Laws was sporadic and piecemeal, organised at a largely parish level. Much of the nobility actually supported these Laws, in particular the reinstatement of Bishops, and without their dissent there was little the Presbyterians could achieve.
Yet they had to try. In 1594 Andrew Melville brought the Petition of Amsterdam from his enclave in the city. It was signed by over 1000 prominent Scottish and English clergy including a few Dutch and German academics but most interesting the Prince of Orange. The petition asked Richard to lift the banishment orders of the Iron Laws and consider a dialogue with the Presbyterian leaders. Richard’s response was three-fold and demonstrates his commitment to the cause. First, Richard flatly rejected the petition and had Melville imprisoned for treason. Second, he passed the Articles of Perth which reaffirmed the Iron Laws but created a theological basis for the Scottish Church. Similar to the Anglican 39 articles, the Perth Articles lay the theological groundwork for a distinctly Scottish version of the Anglican Church and made express provision for those supporting the disestablishment of the Church and the creation of Presbyters. Finally, Richard dispatched a delegation to the United Netherlands demanding that King William apologise for his heir’s support of Melville and the immediate surrender of the entire Presbyterian enclave in Amsterdam.
This final action, and the ultimatum attached, was laughable in that Scotland had no resources with which to carry out the threatened war and raid on Amsterdam. Not only did the Dutch have the second largest navy in Europe at the time but they were supported by the Britannic Empire. In the end Emperor Edward intervened and agreed a £100,000 bond on the Netherlands to stay out of Scottish affairs. Richard’s plans had been challenged but they continued apace into 1597.
Why was Richard I so against Presbyterianism? Well, once the stock ‘because he was mad’ or ‘because he was a control freak’ answers have been discounted we are left with three major factors. First is the influence of Lennox, a man raised in Catholicism but converted to Protestantism; his religious tastes were far more ‘Anglican’ than Presbyterian. It stands to reason that this had some impact on the young King. Second was the out of control nature of Presbyterianism. This is not to say that the movement was anarchical but merely that it lacked the organised cohesion and leadership of Anglican, or even Lutheran, Churches. It was hard to understand and even harder to steer. Thirdly, Richard was clearly a man who desired control, an Anglican style Church gave that to him. Taken together, Richard I was someone who sought order and control and his religious policies reflect that.
Whilst the struggle for Church dominance rumbled along, Richard remarried and sought heirs. After the death of Elizabeth Cavendish, Richard sought his own choice of bride and began looking anywhere except the Britannic Empire. Agnes of Hesse and Christina Palatine were two options considered but again Emperor Edward intervened. Richard I was the great hope for uniting Scotland to the Britannic Empire, Edward felt entitled to arrange his marriage when Richard became King in late 1591. With all haste a match was arranged with Margaret Seymour, then aged 13, and she was sent to Scotland in January 1592 at an indecent pace so recently after the death of her Grandfather, the Lord Protector.
Edward played a shrewd political game in this match. Margaret’s father Richard, Earl Surrey, was keen to inherit his father’s position as Lord Protector. Edward strung him along to get him to agree to his daughter’s Scottish match only to award the role to Tudor once the marriage was concluded. Nonetheless Richard Seymour was indecently keen to marry his daughter off as a favour to his Emperor. To King Richard of Scotland, who wanted anything but another English bride, Edward sweetened the pot by offering a dowry of £50,000 and 100 of the latest Snelbus from the gunsmiths of London, with a further £10,000 and another 50 for each of the next 5 years. This was too desirable for Richard to pass up, and soon his own gunsmiths were cranking out imitations of the Snelbus, under Britannic license.
Margaret Seymour, or Poor Queen Maggie as the Scots know her, had no choice in this match and was said to be decidedly unhappy in her marriage, only alleviated after 1597. However, she performed her duties with a baby girl in 1593 and a boy in 1595 (named Anne and Richard respectively) who would both survive to adulthood. This latter birth was incredibly prescient. The death of Prince Edward of Lancaster in 1594 to the Flemish Plague left the Prince of Wales without an heir. This meant that Richard I was effectively second in line to the throne of Britannia through his mothers’ claim, and so the young Prince Richard would also be an heir to Scotland and the whole Empire.
Through the horror of plague, famine and religious strife, and with his own health starting to fail, Emperor Edward made a fateful choice. Together with his son Edward Prince of Wales he met King Richard of Scotland in Durham in September 1596 and drew up the Durham Accord. In the event that the Prince of Wales had no further legitimate male heirs (he had a number of bastards discreetly roaming the streets of London) then the throne of the entire Empire would pass to Richard of Scotland upon his death. The hope of the Yorkist dynasty, to bring Scotland into the Empire, seemed close at hand, but none of the signatories could anticipate the violent manner of this Union.