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  Indeed, much of Elizabeth’s reign revolved around religious conflicts stemming from the Protestant Reformation begun in Europe by Martin Luther around 1517, when her father was king and at the time an opponent of the Reformation. The Protestant Reformation, a rebellion against the Roman Catholic Church, was at least partially responsible for many of the wars in Europe during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. In England, ecclesiastical upheaval occurred when Henry VIII, seeking to expand his royal power, was denied by Pope Clement VII, for various political reasons, a divorce from his wife, Catherine of Aragon—a daughter of King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella of Spain, and the widow of his older brother, Prince Arthur, who had married her when he was fifteen and died shortly after. This papal refusal caused Henry to break away from Catholic Rome and the Pope’s jurisdiction and establish the Church of England.

  In 1533, just a year before Parliament passed the Act of Supremacy, which proclaimed the king of England the country’s religious leader, Henry married Anne Boleyn, who had been his mistress while he was married to Catherine (that marriage having been declared invalid). In 1533 Anne Boleyn bore a daughter for Henry—Elizabeth—but when Anne didn’t bear him a son, Henry’s passion for her subsided; subsequently a jury, headed by her uncle, sentenced her to death for having sexual relations with multiple partners. Elizabeth was pronounced illegitimate in the wake of Henry’s new marriage to Jane Seymour.

  Despite her supposedly illegitimate status, a statute provided that Elizabeth succeed to the crown after Edward VI, the issue of her father and Jane Seymour, and her half-sister, Mary, the daughter of Catherine of Aragon and Henry VIII. Still, her accession would be marked with danger and conflict. During the reign of Mary, who was a religious Catholic, Elizabeth was imprisoned because she was seen as a threat in the wake of assassination plots and rebellions against Mary; Protestants saw Elizabeth as a future sovereign who could restore their religion to England. Both Edward and Mary had acceded to the crown, and after both died—Edward in 1553 at the age of sixteen and Mary in 1558 at the age of forty-two—Elizabeth indeed became the queen of England.

  During Elizabeth’s reign English trade prospered, its navy became among the most powerful in the world, and Protestantism became entrenched as the country’s national religion. Elizabeth had been raised a Protestant but was tolerant of Catholics in England. Like her half-sister, she was herself the target of numerous assassination plots. Though she had several suitors, Elizabeth never married—in part, at least, to avoid relinquishing her power. But she rewarded loyalty from her soldiers and councillors.

  As a favorite of Elizabeth, Robert Devereux, the earl of Essex, was enriched by Elizabeth’s grants of land. But Devereux was restless with court life and sought a more adventurous course. In 1589, he banded with Don Antonio, who claimed to be the heir to the Portuguese crown. The next year he rankled the queen when, without her permission, he married Frances, the widow of Sir Philip Sidney, a statesman and poet who had died of combat wounds.

  Over the next several years, Essex alternated between serving the queen in court and leading military expeditions, in the process carving out a reputation for himself as a popular soldier and war hero. As a favorite of the queen, he had open communication with her and sometimes used it to help others. For example, previous to Essex’s appointment in 1593 as privy councillor, a thirty-year-old barrister named Francis Bacon sought his assistance. He became Essex’s advisor but drew the ill will of the queen when in Parliament he opposed an appropriation of funds for the government’s war against Spain. Still, Essex, a relentless champion of Bacon, recommended him to the queen on separate occasions for the offices of attorney general and Master of the Roll in the royal service.

  In 1596, Essex embarked on a naval expedition to Cadiz against the Spaniards. These were turbulent times when the rivalry between men for high positions was great, and according to legend, just before he left, Queen Elizabeth gave her impetuous follower the ring with the promise that should he ever commit any transgression, she would exonerate him. The English force that Essex commanded with Charles Howard defeated the Spaniards, and as a result Essex attained the status of exalted war hero, becoming, perhaps, England’s most idolized soldier of the time. After Cadiz was captured, Essex wanted to press on with strategies to increase England’s aggressiveness toward Spain, but he was opposed by Howard, who was backed by the war council, and the two became enemies.

  Still, Essex was now a popular public figure and cast his eyes on new military achievements, heedless of the rumblings this could cause. Francis Bacon warned him that if he continued to seek fame he would turn the queen against him and beseeched his friend to eschew his ambition as a war hero and show resolve only to serve the queen. But Elizabeth’s naming of Charles Howard, Essex’s enemy, as the earl of Nottingham displeased Essex greatly. Essex soon embarked on his next military expedition—to seize Spanish treasure ships—and failed.

  In 1598, Elizabeth’s chief minister, William Cecil, Lord Burghley, who had once been Essex’s guardian but became his nemesis, proposed a peace plan with Spain, which Essex opposed. The following year Essex served as chancellor of Cambridge University, but the rebellion in Ireland led by the earl of Tyrone caught his attention. Strategy meetings were held and Essex angered the queen, who now found his unbridled aspirations intolerable.

  Lord Burghley wanted his son, Robert Cecil, to succeed him as chief minister, but he was opposed by Essex, now a rising star in the political spectrum, who wanted one of his own selections installed. There was constant conflict between the Cecil and Essex factions, and Elizabeth, wary of the threat an Essex faction could pose to her power, promoted Cecil, creating still greater tension with Essex. By this time, Essex was having repeated arguments and reconciliations with the queen, which sometimes played themselves out in public, and their association began to take on a very volatile aspect.

  Still, after rebellion erupted in Ireland, Essex was dispatched to the country as governor-general of Ireland. The public lauded this appointment, and William Shakespeare alluded to Essex in his Henry V (Act V prologue):

  As, by a lower but loving likelihood,

  Were now the general of our gracious Empress,

  As in good time he may, from Ireland coming,

  Bringing rebellion broached on his sword,

  How many would the peaceful city quit

  To welcome him!

  With great public confidence behind him, Essex embarked on his military and political mission in Ireland, but his service there proved a disaster. In 1599 he lost the battle at Arklow, then, commanding a huge army, failed to subdue Tyrone at Ulster and was forced to enter into a truce with him.

  Smarting from these fiascos, Essex left Ireland in disgrace and without permission to mollify the queen, arriving in London in September 1599. Elizabeth’s reception of Essex was cordial, but an inquiry into his actions was pursued nonetheless. The following June he was condemned by the queen’s privy councillors, one of whose members was his old friend and advisor Francis Bacon. Restricted to his house, Essex did not hold animosity toward Bacon. Some colleagues of Essex then tried to convince him that the queen’s councillors would be ousted, which motivated him to devise a plan to march through London, seize the queen, force her to terminate her councillors, and stir the people into rebellion. Some friends such as Thomas Egerton, the Master of the Rolls and a former attorney general, advised Essex not to rebel against Elizabeth but to come to terms with her, but his mind was fixed and he organized a rebellion with citizens opposed to the government’s religious politics. Hundreds of people marched with Essex, but they did not gather enough support, and the rebellion failed.

  Branded a traitor, Essex was arrested at his home and brought to trial at Westminster Hall before a commission of more than thirty citizens and judges. The trial wasn’t exactly impartial to Essex. Some of the commissioners were his enemies, such as the earl of Nottingham, who had participated in crushing the rebellion; Robert Cecil, the son o
f the late Lord Burghley; and, most prominently now, Francis Bacon, who worked vigorously and with great bitterness to convict Essex. Friends of Essex were called to give statements, and they revealed that in a secret meeting Essex had promised greater freedom for the Catholics if his rebellion succeeded. The apprehended rebels indulged in much mutual recrimination. Essex, who denied he was a Catholic, was convicted, and early in the evening of the 19th of February, 1601, was sentenced to die; he would not be the first rebel in his insurrection to be so punished. Others had already been charged with conspiracy with Essex to assassinate the queen and been executed.

  Essex’s execution was to take place six days later, on February 25, and it was during this time that the Essex ring legend continues, diverging from the historical record. There are variations of the legend, but according to a popular account, with his life at stake, Essex gave his royal ring to a child to deliver to one of the queen’s ladies-in-waiting, Lady Scrope. The boy became confused, however, and instead delivered it to Scrope’s sister, Katherine, the countess of Nottingham, whose husband, Charles, had been Essex’s bitter opponent. Charles, the earl of Nottingham, withheld the ring from the queen, thus sealing Essex’s fate.

  Still, Elizabeth appeared disinclined to carry out Essex’s death sentence. She signed his death warrant, then withdrew it. Then she signed it again. According to the legend, she was awaiting the return of the ring, which she would take as an expression of contrition by Essex and would acknowledge by commuting his sentence. Despite advice from his friends to make a direct appeal to Elizabeth, the legend continues, Essex thought the ring would suffice, not knowing it had not reached her.

  Historically, efforts had been made to save Essex’s life, among them a supplication from his wife to Robert Cecil. But others, most outspokenly Essex’s enemy Walter Raleigh, implored the secretary of state, whom Essex had accused before the commission of disputing Elizabeth’s claim to sovereignty, to sustain the death sentence. Indeed, nothing short of the queen’s mercy could save Essex, but according to both legend and historical record, clemency on her behalf was not forthcoming.

  And so, on the designated day of his execution, Robert Devereux, the second earl of Essex, attired in dark clothing, was escorted to a scaffold in the Tower of London courtyard. While Elizabeth distracted herself by playing a spinet in her privy chamber, Essex made penance before his death. He made certain declarations, including attesting to the fairness of his punishment, and prayed before a small crowd, then in three strokes was decapitated.

  The Essex Ring with its cameo portrait of Queen Elizabeth I. The left profile of the queen is shown on the gold ring.

  Essex’s popularity with the masses, and some government officials, quickly became apparent. A rabble nearly lynched his executioner shortly after the beheading. Elizabeth was said to be saddened and to have been willing to exonerate Essex if he had appealed to her. Francis Bacon, who drew much negative public sentiment, disseminated an “Apologie” defending his actions. Other apologies, as well as panegyrics, songs, essays, and verses in Essex’s honor were published, although some writings were censored by the government.

  According to the ring legend, when the countess of Nottingham fell deathly ill, she summoned Queen Elizabeth to confess that her husband had withheld the ring. Elizabeth, distressed by the fall from grace of her once-favorite soldier, reacted with violent anger. By historical record, Elizabeth, whose health failed toward the end of her life, died two years later, in 1603, at the age of seventy.

  A brief note was made by a contemporary chronicler, John Manningham, about a ring given by Essex to Elizabeth that she kept on her finger until she died, but the story of the Essex ring in a comprehensive, romanticized narrative didn’t appear in print until the mid-seventeenth century, almost fifty years after the deaths of Essex and Elizabeth. It was in a history of Elizabeth and Essex that the ring legend was set forth in detail, and although the book was marred by inaccuracies, the ring story caught on with the public and became part of the lore of Elizabethan history. It continued in popularity—and in print by different authors—for many years.

  For various reasons, the story of the Essex ring was not given much credibility by historians from the time the story began to appear in print. The story seemed far-fetched, contemporary accounts were lacking, and the protagonists seemed to act contrary to their typical behavior. Indeed, scholars have discounted the story of the Essex ring as a beguiling but fanciful tale. Still, there is documentation of the lineage of the so-called Essex ring.

  After Essex’s execution in 1601, the ring, by popular account, was returned to his widow, Frances, and it stayed in the family for centuries. For several generations it was passed down the female side of the family, with each of the daughter-recipients marrying a titled Englishman. From Essex’s widow, Frances (who later married William Seymour), it went to her daughter, Lady Mary Seymour (who married Heneage Finch), to her daughter, Lady Frances Finch (who married Thomas Thynne, the first Viscount Weymouth), to her daughter, Frances Thynne (who married Robert Worsley), to her daughter, Frances Worsley (who married John Carteret), and to her daughter, Lady Louisa Carteret (who married Thomas Thynne, the second Viscount Weymouth, the great-nephew of the first Viscount Weymouth and husband of Lady Frances Finch).

  The so-called Essex ring continued in the family until 1911, when it was sold to Herbert, First Baron Michelham. Sixteen years later, in 1927, the ring was offered for sale by Christie’s and was purchased for just over seven hundred pounds by Ernest Makower, who acquired it to donate it to Westminster Abbey and make it available for public viewing. The ring was soon given a new home, accepted by the Abbey as “traditionally the ring given by the Queen to the Earl of Essex.” In the confines of its august new domicile, the ring has been in splendidly majestic company, residing near the remains of some of England’s most prominent historical figures, including King Henry III, King Henry V, King Charles II, Mary Queen of Scots, poet Geoffrey Chaucer, physicist Sir Isaac Newton, lexicographer Dr. Samuel Johnson, novelist Charles Dickens, missionary and explorer David Livingstone, and Victorian prime minister William Gladstone—not to mention, ironically, Elizabeth herself.*

  Posterity, then, has a ring with a fascinating legend attached to it, but whose historical authenticity is in doubt. For hundreds of years, the Essex ring has held the public imagination as the focus of a compelling Elizabethan drama. Genuine or not, several questions remain: Was the ring ever worn by Queen Elizabeth? Did she ever give it to Essex? How did the ring story start? How did Essex’s widow come to have this ring, and why was it passed down in the family for so many generations with the legend attached to it? These questions and others may never be answered, but surely the Essex ring will continue to stir the hearts of those who hear its story.

  LOCATION: Westminster Abbey Museum, London, England.

  Footnote

  *The ring was displayed in a special case on Elizabeth’s tomb before being moved to its present location.

  GALILEO’S MIDDLE FINGER

  DATE: 1642.

  WHAT IT IS: The excised right middle finger of the Italian astronomer, Galileo Galilei.

  WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE: The preserved finger is gray and measures 3.5 inches long and .79 inches wide at its maximum width. The finger is contained in a glass casket set on a cylindrical alabaster base on which is an inscription in Latin by the eighteenth-century astronomer Tommaso Perelli that reads: “This is the finger with which the illustrious hand covered the heavens and indicated their immense space. It pointed to new stars with the marvelous instrument, made of glass, and revealed them to the senses. And thus it was able to reach what Titans could never attain.”

  “E pur si muove! ” (And yet it does move!)

  — Quote attributed to Galileo Galilei

  after recanting his belief that

  the earth revolves around the sun

  Since ancient times, sages pondered the enigmas of the physical universe, but the idea that the earth moved in a ci
rcular orbit around the sun seemed preposterous to any logical mind. After all, people standing on the earth’s surface feel no such movement, and each morning the sun is seen to rise in the east, climb to the zenith, then move west where it sets in the afternoon. Moreover, any statement to the contrary would contradict the biblical notion of the earth as the center of creation. For making precisely such a statement, the tribunal responsible for promoting the Catholic faith, the Holy Office, put the seventeenth-century scientist Galileo on trial for heresy. After weighing the evidence, the cardinals rendered their condemnation:

  We say, pronounce, sentence, and declare that you, Galileo, by reason of these things which have been detailed in the trial and which you have confessed already, have rendered yourself according to this Holy Office vehemently suspect of heresy, namely of having held and believed a doctrine that is false and contrary to the divine and Holy Scripture; namely that the Sun is the center of the world and does not move from east to west, and that one may hold and defend as probable an opinion after it has been declared and defined contrary to Holy Scripture. Consequently, you have incurred all the censures and penalties enjoined and promulgated by the sacred Canons and all particular and general laws against such delinquents. … We condemn you to formal imprisonment at our pleasure.

  Facing life imprisonment, Galileo publicly recanted his alleged heresies and wisely avoided a lengthy sojourn in a dingy dungeon. His sentence was commuted to house arrest, carried out first at the home of his friend the archbishop at Siena and then at his villa at Arcetri, near Florence, where he died several years later, on January 8, 1642.