Thanks to Shakespeare, Hollywood, and the formidable Elizabeth I herself, Elizabethan England remains a place and time that fascinates us. Modern England still has visible memorials of the Elizabethans—the houses they built, the objects they cherished, the patterns they imposed upon the very landscape. A. L. Rowse's famously vivid portrayal of the Elizabethan world is a detailed account of that society and tradition, from the lowest social class to the men and women who governed the realm. A major new introduction from Christopher Haigh offes both a reflection on Rowse's masterpiece and an assessment of the Elizabethan Age.
Alfred Leslie Rowse, CH FBA, known professionally as A. L. Rowse and to his friends and family as Leslie, was a prolific Cornish historian. He is perhaps best known for his poetry about Cornwall and his work on Elizabethan England. He was also a Shakespearean scholar and biographer. He developed a widespread reputation for irascibility and intellectual arrogance.
One of Rowse's great enthusiasms was collecting books, and he owned many first editions, many of them bearing his acerbic annotations. For example, his copy of the January 1924 edition of The Adelphi magazine edited by John Middleton Murry bears a pencilled note after Murry's poem In Memory of Katherine Mansfield: 'Sentimental gush on the part of JMM. And a bad poem. A.L.R.'
Upon his death in 1997 he bequeathed his book collection to the University of Exeter, and his personal archive of manuscripts, diaries, and correspondence. In 1998 the University Librarian selected about sixty books from Rowse’s own working library and a complete set of his published books. The Royal Institution of Cornwall selected some of the remaining books, and the rest were sold to dealers.
I read Rowse's 'The Elizabethan Renaissance' a few weeks ago and, while impressed by Rowse's erudition, was comfortable with his writing style and conservatism. Then, on a whim, I looked him up on YouTube. Finding a lecture he delivered in the sixties at UCLA, I gave it a listen. Rowse was querky, thoroughly funny and entertaining. Recognizing he may have been the foremost scholar of Elizabethan England of his generation, being engrossed in reading about the Tudor era, I decided to give him another chance and picked up this hefty title.
And, yes, I still found Rowse writing and politics problematic, wondered if I'd make it through all the details (and detailed it is!--as if all instances must needs be cited for each point made), but I persevered and, although the book was a bit above my head, have received some benefit, if mostly impressionistic.
Rowse doesn't hide his opinions. Overarching all, he esteems his England, most particularly the 'modern' England which arose through the Tudor reforms. Here his patriotism reminds one of contemporary American exceptionalism (though Rowse deems our Puritan heritage as crazy, Britain having been well rid of those radicals). His conservatism comes through in many ways, particularly as regards his favoring clear class structures wherein all know their place (and his occasional snipes at Labour Party policies). A homosexual himself, he repeatedly criticizes marriage and finds Elizabeth's unsuccessful attempts to maintain clerical celibacy laudable. Indeed, Elizabeth scores highly on virtually all accounts: She kept England out of war (mostly), she reformed the currency, she selected superior officials, her Anglican Church was a sensible compromise between extremes. Her faults, such as they were, were personal and ultimately trivial: her sexual neuroses, her equivocations as regards Mary Stuart, her vanity.
Of the whole, I found Rowse's representation of the Tudor Reformation most interesting, particularly chapters ten and eleven on 'The Church' and on 'Catholics and Puritans'.
The book is now very dated and, although beautifully written, much of Leslie Rowse's idiosyncrasy comes through. I first read it at school for history A Level and have returned to it on occasions since although not really for its history. My copy, which I bought then, is now somewhat battered but still holds together.
A lively, detailed account unfortunately marred, for the modern reader, by Rowse's misogyny and, to a lesser extent, the associated conservatism of his era.
From one old queen to another: This rather battered edition of The England of Elizabeth has sat on my bookshelves for many years unread (one of those meanwhile books - I mean to read it but just in a little while). I wish I’d done so before. Apart from being oddly aesthetically pleasing and with a pleasantly musky aroma, it’s superbly written by a fine old don who was the David Starkey of his jour - irascible, queeny and given to feuds with rivals over arcane minutiae, but minus the virulent racism - ok so nothing like Stark Staring Bonkers at all.
It’s beautifully written if outrageously and archly conservative. AL sets out his stall early: despite the title suggesting this will be a book about country and people rather than monarch, Gloriana pops up so frequently and is so approved of by the author (her religious tolerance, humanity, learning etc) one wonders if this is the kind of crush another gay man in a different era would have had on Judy Garland or Madonna. The interest for him lies in the men - and woman - of action whilst the common mass can go home.
Despite this it’s a demotic book in its way, and fascinating in our era for its defence of primogeniture (seemingly inexcusable even in AL’s time, 70 years ago, but as a way of handing land and property down securely and maintaining civil society in a far less certain time he manages to make it sound less utterly exclusionary and misogynist than I had always thought). Also of the English mindset when it comes to rule of law and why, perhaps, the country has never taken enthusiastically to foreigners - that parliament even in a time when the common people had next to no rights was seen as the defence of what little they did have (imagine this today, though) - “it representeth and hath the power of the whole realm both the head and the body. For every Englishman is intended to be there present...from the prince (be he King or Queen) to the lowest person of England. And the consent of Parliament is taken to be every man’s consent.”
And wasn’t Robert Dudley a bit of a dishboat? No wonder poor old Liz 1 nearly threw in the towel for him. Solid, scarf-waving stuff.
The 1970 Macmillan Company version was supplemental reading for an English History course a long time ago. It sat on my shelf for decades until I finally got enough nerve to read it. The book describes Elizabethan society in what may be the most boring way possible. Instead of shining some light on how people lived and thought during that era, the author used this medium as a platform to show how much he knew and how little he cared to share with the reader. Rowse was an Oxford don during the time when the Inklings gathered for tea, beer and discussion. Rowse was reputed to have participated with the group at times. Frankly, he should have taken notes from Lewis and Tolkien on how to write a readable book which could be understood by the reader. This book was over 500 pages of pain. If perchance you may encounter this tome, walk away quickly and don't look back.
The author does not suffer fools at all gladly. If you don't understand what he says then it's your hard luck. This is a heavy and elaborate subject dealt with in an extraordinarily humorous manner and with sympathy and love for his subject. He tells it as it is quoting many a learned friend and those not quite so friendly. A fascinating insight to the age of this most famous of monarchs, dispelling many a myth.
Not the easiest read in that it is impossible to forget that this is now dated and somewhat written in awe of "Gloriana" it is an Homage that while interesting must be put in context of time written in the early 1950's when QE II was about to be placed on the throne and again all things Elizabethan were sacrosanct. Useful for reference but with a caution.