Elizabeth I: Two Poems, A Speech, and Boethius

Now here's a lady who needs no introduction: Elizabeth I (1533-1603), crowned in 1558 and ruling till her death, six months shy of her 70th birthday. While a fuller timeline may be found here, I'll put down some important dates:

1533: Henry VIII marries Anne Boleyn, is excommunicated, tells the pope to bugger off, Elizabeth born on Sept. 7.
1535: Thomas More whacked.
1536: Anne Boleyn whacked, Elizabeth declared illegitimate.
1547: Henry VIII shuffles off this mortal coil, Edward VI crowned.
1553: Edward VI cashes in his chips, Lady Jane Grey declared queen then deposed, Mary I crowned.
1554: Lady Jane Grey gets whacked, Mary I marries Phillip II.
1555: Mary I starts burning Protestants, becomes figure of urban legend.
1558: Mary I buys the farm, Elizabeth I crowned, despite being legally a bastard. (This is a sensitive point.)
1585: Roanoke Colony established, promptly lost.
1587: Mary Stuart, Queen of Scots, gets whacked.
1588: The Armada threatens then sinks, Dudley breaths his last.
1592-3: Plague in London, Elizabeth I leaves and translates Boethius.
1601: Essex Revolt starts and gets shut down.
1603: Elizabeth I joins the choir invisible, James I crowned.

Now, onto the lit:

"The Doubt of Future Foes" -- ca. 1567. A short poem composed (according to the Norton notes) in response to Elizabeth I's concerns regarding Mary Stuart, who came to England in 1567 seeking refuge from rebellious subjects. Mary's alliance with the anti-English Catholic Church and her general unruliness, aptness for conspiracy, and polarizing reputation posed a threat to Protestant England and Elizabeth I's throne. The persona worries about future dangers to the realm, noting unquiet conditions among its subjects and the presence of ambitious and seditious persons eager to topple the current regime. However, she is confident that the "daughter of debate" (Mary) will be unable to achieve the power she seeks, for the realm has been secured by previous rulers -- probably a reference to Henry VIII and Edward VI's Protestant policies. Instead, the "rusty sword", long undrawn, will behead any such traitors and enemies of the state and crown. The poem is composed in "poulter's measure": couplets in which the first line is 12 syllables, and the second 14.

"On Monsieur's Departure" -- ca. 1582. The occasion of this poem is usually said to be the breaking off of marriage negotiations between Elizabeth I and Francois, French duke of Anjou, whom she dubbed her "frog". She is said to have had a genuine affection for the little fellow, even if she hadn't intended to follow through on the agreement. The poem seems to be a sort of consolation, declaring that she is not free to love as she will, since she is compelled by many contrary motives and duties. These contradictions seem to frustrate her, and in the end she desires the resolution of either a happy life with love or a forgetful death without it.

"Speech to the Troops at Tilbury" -- August 18, 1588. Elizabeth I delivered this speech wearing a silver breastplate over her white dress, while awaiting the landing of the Duke of Parma's invasion force. The Though the Armada had already been routed at that point, and was drifting aimlessly in the North Atlantic, the land army in the Netherlands remained a threat. The Earl of Leicester had mustered 4000 troops to meet any enemies attempting to reach London via the mouth of the Thames; then Elizabeth I arrived to bolster morale. Her speech is stirring, promising to risk her own life, and lead her people into battle as "your general, judge, and rewarder". The famous line "I have the body but of a weak and feeble woman; but I have the heart and stomach of a king" shows the balance Elizabeth always maintained between her personal and political identities, in this case affirming that her political identity -- her "heart and stomach" -- is the stronger and more essential of the two. Just as she, a "weak and feeble woman" could overcome through a majestic and noble heart, so the English, comparatively weaker than their Spanish foe, could also obtain a victory through their loyalty and bravery.

Boethius's Consolation of Philosophy -- 1593. While London was essentially shut down due to the plague, Elizabeth I headed off to Windsor Castle to wait it out. In the meantime, she whiled away the odd moment by translating Boethius's Consolation of Philosophy. For the most part, this translation is unremarkable -- the EETS editor describes it as "indifferent", "tolerably exact", and "generally very literal" (xi, x) -- but I find a few things notable.

First, as a monarch, Elizabeth I is one who rides the Wheel; as a 60-year-old childless woman, she could well perceive that the Wheel would soon turn. Given England's delicate position in European politics, her own delicate position as an aging and heirless queen, and the immediate physical hardship of the plague, Elizabeth I's interest in Boethius probably passed beyond mere academic interest.

Second, though the translation is generally clunky and literal, and mistakes abound, there are some mistakes that may be more meaningful. For instance, in a meter of Book Three, Elizabeth I renders four times an indicative as an imperative. Perhaps this is just a strange series of mistakes, but I think it more plausible that she either (a) changes the mood to suit her verse form, or (b) instinctively favors a regal commanding tone over Boethius's dispassionate recital of truisms. Another example is in a meter of Book Four, in which Elizabeth I renders the Latin word corusas "southeast wind", instead of its proper definition, "northwest wind". Again, this is an odd change and hard to view as a mistake: corus only means "northeast wind" and doesn't resemble the term for a southeast wind in the least. However, the theme of the meter itself may indicate a reason for the alteration: the meter is about temporal events, whose causes are unknown, generating unreasoning fear in humans. Five years before, the threat of invasion loomed over England, and the queen herself awaited the invaders near the port of Tilbury, wondering along with her subjects whether the southeast wind would bring with it across the channel barges full of enemy troops, while those same unpredictable winds and waves might at that same moment cast the Armada anywhere along Britain's coast.

Third, this translation, in its very production, served as a testament to the remarkable capacities of the queen, even in her own time. Accompanying the manuscript of Elizabeth I's "Englishing" of Boethius, are three documents,

three separate sheets of letter paper, with label of contents at back, [containing] three accounts of the date of the translations, the year of Her Majesty's reign when it was made, and the time which it occupied in making. These accounts have probably been written by different persons at different times, for all three vary a little in their statements as to the miraculously short space of time in which Elizabeth I performed the work, this varying between twenty-four and twenty-seven hours. (viii)

These accounts include meticulous calculations, counting the days she took for the project, then tracking her time spent in each day translating. This feat would be almost beyond belief, were it not for the fact that Elizabeth I used a secretary for most of the prose, and only wrote the meters in her own hand (xi). Nor is it known whether the numerous corrections, many done by Elizabeth I herself, were part of the time counted in these tabulations. Nonetheless, what we see is (I think) the makings of a royal "miracle story": an anecdote, backed by documentation, meant to render the queen superhuman in the mind of the hearer.