Lucy Worsley's Royal Myths & Secrets (2020–…): Season 1, Episode 1 - Elizabeth I: The Warrior Queen - full transcript

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In the year 1558,

a new queen came
to the English throne...

...a young woman

who refused to be
dominated by male power.

We do not need your master's
embrace, sir.

Awkward.

Against all the odds,

she would become one of the
world's most iconic monarchs.

Elizabeth I, the Virgin Queen.

Her defeat of a seemingly
invincible Spanish invasion

fleet transformed her
into a ruthless warrior.



I have the heart and stomach
of a king,

and of a king of England too.

The defeat of the Spanish Armada
is often talked about

as the crowning achievement
of Elizabeth I's golden age

and a defining moment
in English history.

But was Elizabeth's victory
more cunning propaganda coup

than military triumph?

This is fake news, isn't it?

You know, you'd think people
would see through it,

but people believe
what they want to believe.

So, what's the inside story

that Elizabeth
tried to keep secret?

More than half of the men

who'd fought were killed
not by the Spanish,



but by disease and starvation.

And how has the myth
of Elizabeth I

inspired Britain's
national identity

for generations?

This is about showing
the continuous link

between a sort of golden age
of British monarchy,

of Elizabeth I,
and Queen Victoria.

When Thatcher put herself up
onto a tank,

she was doing exactly what
Elizabeth I had done.

I myself will take up arms.

I myself will be your general.

♪♪

♪♪

The year is 1558.

In a time of bitter and
often bloody religious conflict,

England faced a crisis.

The nation's Queen was
the Catholic Mary I,

daughter of Henry VIII
and Catherine of Aragon.

Mary was married to
King Philip of Spain,

also Catholic, giving Philip

considerable political influence
over England.

♪♪

But this royal power couple
had failed to produce an heir

and England's religious future
was in doubt.

Next in line to the throne
was Elizabeth,

the Protestant daughter
of Henry VIII's second wife,

Anne Boleyn.

The chief rival was her Catholic
cousin, Mary, Queen of Scots.

And Mary Tudor hated the idea
of her

half-sister ever becoming Queen.

♪♪

One of the ambassadors
to court recorded

that Mary's opinion of Elizabeth
was that she was illegitimate,

the daughter of a strumpet.

Mary wasn't a fan.

She doubted her half-sister's
loyalty to herself as queen

and also to the Catholic faith.

Mary thought that Elizabeth
was involved

in all sorts
of plots against her.

She even had her locked up for
a while in the Tower of London.

But Mary's Spanish husband,
Philip,

he had a different opinion.

The truth is Philip
was on Elizabeth's side.

He even persuaded Mary
to free her from house arrest,

because the Catholic
alternative,

Mary, Queen of Scots,

would've brought England under
the control of Philip's enemies,

the French.

There was no way,
for political reasons,

that Philip could allow
Mary, Queen of Scots

to become Queen of England,
because Mary was betrothed

to the son of
the King of France,

and England
would have been absorbed

into the French Empire

had Mary, Queen of Scots
become Queen of England.

So, there's lots of things
wrong with Elizabeth,

she's got this dangerous
Protestant tendency,

she's illegitimate
in the eyes of his wife,

but she's the least bad
alternative,

as far as Philip's concerned.

Yes, and also he was convinced

that he could turn her,
you know, if she was...

- Into a good Catholic?
- Into a good Catholic.

Elizabeth, you know,
she appeared to be submissive,

she attended Catholic church
services, including the mass.

Had she the right husband,
she would conform,

or at least keep the church
where it was.

The young Princess Elizabeth
may have been the last person

Mary Tudor
wanted to see as Queen,

but in the end, Mary relented
to her husband Philip's demands

and reluctantly declared
her Protestant half-sister

successor to England's crown.

Mary died in 1558.

In a bid to retain his influence
over England,

Philip sent his ambassador
to remind Elizabeth

just how much
he'd supported her.

The Spanish Ambassador sent
to woo young Elizabeth

was the Count of Feria.

His mission?

To secure Spain's influence
over England

by convincing the new queen

that she needs
Philip's protection.

It was Philip after all who got
her released

from the Tower of London.

Feria's first task
was to persuade Elizabeth

she should ditch the Protestant
faith for the Catholic church.

The Catholic faith,
Your Majesty...

embrace it.

Philip seeks your support.

Seeks to support you, ma'am.

Embrace Rome,
and Philip will embrace you.

♪♪

Elizabeth has granted Feria
a private audience

to make his pitch.

The only people present
are her two ladies in waiting

as chaperones.

Now, I think that Feria
wants to exploit

Elizabeth's vulnerability.

She's only 25 years old.

She's in a new position.

She might well be feeling in
need of powerful friends.

But I also think that Feria has
underestimated our Liz.

We do not need
your master's embrace, sir.

We are grateful to Philip
for his hand in our release.

But the king of Spain
does not make me a queen.

Nor does Rome.

My people do.

Awkward.

Philip will soon raise
the stakes

by offering Elizabeth
his hand in marriage,

but she decides to keep him
in the friend zone.

A few months later,
Elizabeth hears

that Philip has gone
and got married

to a French princess instead,

and she makes a joke that's
classic Queen Elizabeth I.

She said, "If he couldn't even
wait a couple of months

to see if he got the right
answer from me,

he can't have loved me
all that much anyway."

♪♪

With Elizabeth as queen,

England became
a Protestant country,

but initially, she remained
on friendly terms

with Catholic Spain.

Fast forward nearly
30 years, though,

and that relationship had...

deteriorated...

so badly that Philip would amass
an invasion force

against England,

a mighty fleet
that would become known

as the Spanish Armada.

Legend has it that

when it came to the Armada,
Catholic Spain started it,

they were the aggressors,
invading England

just because it was Protestant.

But that's way too simplistic.

It was going to take more
than religion to drive

Philip into war.

By the 1550s,
Elizabeth had never married.

To marry meant declaring
a husband king of England.

That would see Elizabeth
lose her power,

and she was determined
to hang onto it.

But while the Queen refused
to be dominated by a man,

she certainly made use of one

to further England's interests.

Elizabeth sent the infamous
buccaneer and sea dog

Francis Drake on a series
of daring expeditions

that ultimately antagonized
the Spanish.

♪♪

Philip had a global empire,

and the Pope had given him
a monopoly

on trade routes to the Americas.

But in the third decade
of Elizabeth's reign,

she began protecting
Protestant interests

by challenging Philip's
global domination.

Elizabeth encouraged English
sailors, like Francis Drake,

to plunder Spanish ships
and ports in the new world.

Her coffers were soon
filling up with Spanish gold.

In 1518, Drake returned
from a lucrative

circumnavigation of the globe.

Elizabeth rewarded him
with a knighthood.

The knighting of Drake marked
him out as a national treasure.

But not everybody was pleased.

To the Spanish, Drake was
nothing more than a pirate...

Rargh!...

A thief who'd stolen their gold.

Elizabeth couldn't afford
an all-out war with Philip,

but she was determined
to curb Spanish power

before it crushed
Protestant Europe.

♪♪

England wasn't just damaging
Spain's interests

in the new world.

It was also goading Spain
on its own doorstep in Europe.

In Philip's territory,
in the Netherlands,

the Protestant population
was rebelling.

Elizabeth sent an army
of over 6,000 troops,

to help the Protestant revolt.

Elizabeth knew that
this was a dangerous move,

so she set about
taking control of the story.

The Queen circulated a pamphlet
across Europe,

justifying her actions.

She claimed she wasn't attacking
her brother and ally, Philip...

She was just defending
her neighbors.

♪♪

Despite Elizabeth's attempts
to spin the story,

to Philip, she was clearly
supporting

rebellion against him.

♪♪

To make matters worse,

English ships were now raiding
ports on the Spanish coast.

Elizabeth had provoked
Spain into action,

and Philip's plans for the
Armada began to take shape.

♪♪

Philip would now unleash
Spain's imperial power.

To stop Elizabeth's games,
he would have to invade England

and depose her.

After two years of planning,

the Spanish Armada finally
set sail in May 1588.

♪♪

What happened next
would be retold for centuries

as a classic adventure story,

casting Philip as the bullying
would-be conqueror,

Elizabeth as the bold heroine,

and her recently knighted
buccaneer Sir Francis Drake

as the Queen's loyal sea dog.

Traditionally, the story
begins with Drake

playing a game of bowls
in Plymouth,

a naval port on England's
south coast,

when the sails of
the mighty Spanish Armada

are first spotted
on the horizon.

Francis Drake is the embodiment
of cool Britannia

of "keep calm
and carry on."

He turned to Lord Howard,

commander of the English fleet,
and he said,

"We've plenty of time
to finish our game

and to thrash
the Spaniards too."

It's classic
English understatement.

It's nonchalance under fire.

Unfortunately, though,

it's likely to be
a complete fabrication.

Not one of the first accounts
of the Armada

mentioned anyone playing bowls.

So, where does it come from?

25 years after the event,

we finally get
a historical document

which mentions the sailors
at Plymouth dancing,

bowling, and making merry
on the shore.

Nearly 150 years after that,
local legends about Drake

finishing his game
entered the history books,

and by 1888,
at the height of empire,

his line about thrashing
the Spanish was in print too.

Drake had become
the perfect imperial hero,

to inspire future generations
with his stiff upper lip.

In the usual story
of the Spanish Armada,

it's gone down as invincible...

The largest fleet
ever to sail on England.

Basically, the Armada
is Goliath.

♪♪

Eyoo!

Meanwhile, England is
the plucky little underdog

fighting a cruel giant,

determined to make the streets
of London run with blood.

But that image is something
of an exaggeration.

This wasn't the biggest fleet
ever to attack England.

Bigger invasion fleets had been
sent by the Normans in 1066

and by the French in 1545.

The Spanish fleet
had around 130 ships.

The Queen's navy was only
34 ships strong,

but a host of private ships
were commandeered,

to create a force
which outnumbered the Spanish.

And before they even left home,
the Spanish navy was in trouble.

♪♪

On paper, Philip of Spain had
every right to be confident.

His armada might not have been

the largest invasion fleet
to assail England,

but it certainly seemed
pretty formidable.

Urgent message for the King.

However, Philip appears
not to have been told that

some of the ships were damaged,

some of the sailors
had diseases,

and some of the fleet's
provisions had gone rotten.

But he's about to find out.

The letter is from the commander
of the King's Armada,

the Duke of Medina-Sidonia.

And the Duke is writing
with bad news.

The fleet has only got
as far as the northern coast

of Spain, and on top of that,
the Duke says,

the sailors have been
completely useless.

Philip is going to write back,

saying,
"Pull yourself together, man,

and get on with it."

In the meantime, all King Philip
can do is pray.

♪♪

The Armada's aim was to sail
in tight formation

up the Channel
towards its narrowest point.

There, they would meet an army
of 26,000 soldiers

from the Netherlands.

The Armada would protect
this army

as it crossed to invade England.

♪♪

As the Spanish made their way
along the Channel,

they were hounded
by the English navy.

But the first two major
casualties to the Armada

were self-inflicted.

A crash within the Spanish fleet
allowed Francis Drake to capture

one of the damaged ships...
The Rosario.

But this disease-ridden,
accident-prone Armada

would soon be spun
into the Goliath of history.

Because the fighting
was all happening out at sea,

communication
was a real problem.

And this led to rumor
and speculation

and sometimes
even outright lies.

The capture of the Rosario
gave the popular press

the most wonderful story
to exploit.

During Elizabeth's reign, poets
and playwrights had become

powerful agents
of pro-English propaganda,

but one art form sent a message
to the masses in the streets

and taverns more effectively
than any other...

The ballad.

♪ Cost and pains ♪

♪ But little land
be not dismayed at all ♪

♪ The Lord no doubt
is on our side ♪

♪ And soon will work therefore ♪

Political songs were big
sellers in this period,

and these Armada ballads
are that sort of

political news and political
commentary as well.

In this case, the words are by

a man called Thomas Deloney,

who was probably the greatest
songwriter of his age.

He's like a, you know,

Elton John, Lennon,
Lennon-McCartney.

He knew how to kind of
lay down a hit,

like nobody else.

Within a few days
of the capture of the Rosario,

Thomas Deloney had written
a ballad about it.

♪ With mighty power ♪

♪ They come unto our coast ♪

♪ To overrun our country quite ♪

♪ They make their brags
and boast ♪

It seems like it's about
current affairs,

but if you actually look
at the words

this is fake news, isn't it?

It's not just news,
it's fake news.

Yes, definitely, but it is
based on these actual events

that happened,
which are then sort of,

you know,
blown out of proportion.

The emphasis is very much on

the might of the Spanish,
the idea that,

you know, that actually
there's this huge force

with massive ships,

you know, massively armed,

and plucky little England
somehow survives.

♪ And to deflower our virgins
in our sight ♪

♪ And in the cradle cruelly
the tender babe to smite ♪

There's something about
the language of it,

we've got virgins
being deflowered

and babies being smited,

that's very sort of tabloid,
isn't it?

Definitely. I mean, it is
a time of national panic,

so to be told constantly
"God is on your side,"

that you've had
this miraculous escape,

which just proves
that whatever happens to you,

you'll be okay, is reassuring.

♪♪

Elizabeth's navy
of commandeered ships

stalked the Armada

up the English Channel
for eight days.

But as the Spanish
reached Calais,

there was still no sign
of their 26,000 invasion troops

with whom they were meant
to rendezvous.

Now the Armada had to wait,
exposed to attack.

♪♪

It's at this point in the story

that Elizabeth's
big moment comes.

And normally she's dressed
to impress for it,

perhaps in a white velvet gown,

maybe with feathers in her hair,
or even wearing armor.

The Queen visits her army
here at Tilbury

on the banks of the Thames,

where they're assembled to
protect Essex from invasion.

She delivers a rousing
speech to the troops.

She says that she herself
is here in the midst

and heat of battle,

"to live and die
amongst you all."

"I know I have the body
but of a weak and feeble woman,

but I have the heart
and stomach of a king

and of a king of England, too.

I myself will take up arms.

I myself will be your general,

"judge, and rewarder of every one
of your virtues in the field."

♪♪

In the traditional version
of the story,

the Queen's speech
launches the attack.

The English set fire to eight
of their own ships

and sent them off
into the midst of the Armada.

In a panic, Spanish ships
cut anchor and were scattered.

Three collided
and one ran aground.

In the battle that followed,
four Spanish ships were lost.

Then strong winds drove
the Armada to the north.

Cutting their losses,

the Spanish headed home
via Scotland and Ireland.

It seems like Elizabeth's
rallying cry worked...

It did the trick.

But in fact, the story of her
most famous speech

is riddled with holes.

And the biggest fib of all
lies in the timing.

When Elizabeth began planning
her Tilbury visit,

invasion did seem imminent.

But by the time she actually
made the speech,

the battle was over.

This extravaganza at Tilbury
happened a whole 11 days

after the fire ships.

And by this point,
the Spanish Armada,

well, it had floated off.

It was somewhere off the coast
of Scotland.

Not only were the men not going
to get to do any fighting,

very soon they were going
to get sent home,

and that was because
the Queen couldn't afford

to go on paying their wages.

But that didn't fit with
the image of Elizabeth

that was already emerging,
even as the Armada sailed home.

A poet called James Aske,

who claimed to have been
at Tilbury, wrote an epic verse

called "Elizabeth Triumphans"
in November 1588.

♪♪

It mythologized Elizabeth
as a warrior queen,

and it placed Tilbury before
the battle, for dramatic effect.

But Aske doesn't mention the
most famous line in her speech.

The reference to the heart
and stomach of a king

doesn't appear
until 35 years after the event.

It was first introduced
by a Protestant chaplain

who'd also been at Tilbury,

and who was keen to glorify
the now long-dead Elizabeth.

Historians still argue over
the speech's authenticity.

But, accurate or not,
countless film and TV dramas

have made the myth
of Elizabeth's speech

feel like it must have happened.

...of a king,

and a king of England too!

As the Armada made
its long journey

back to Spain,
at least 22 ships were sunk

in storms off the coast
of Scotland and Ireland.

It wasn't the Queen or her navy

who had dealt the decisive blow
to the Spanish Armada...

It was the weather.

But that suited the Elizabethan
narrative very well.

If anyone still doubted
that the future of England

was Protestant, this victory
would be used to put them right.

The storms which had scattered
the Armada were God's storms,

which meant that God had clearly
picked the Protestant side.

And all over Europe,
Protestants were determined

to make a big deal about this.

Even Elizabeth herself wrote
a verse praising the God

who'd made the winds
and waters rise

to scatter all of her enemies.

In the Netherlands,
celebratory medals were struck,

like this one.

It says on it
"He blew," that's God blew,

and they were "dissipati,"

they were dissipated,
they were scattered.

England was a unified,
victorious, Protestant nation.

After the Armada, the Protestant
propaganda war continued.

♪♪

A letter from a Catholic priest
in England

to the Spanish ambassador
in Paris

was published across Europe.

The person who wrote the letter
found it highly regrettable

that Spain had tried
to invade England,

and he claims that even
English Catholics had thought

that this was a bad idea,

a mistake
in the eyes of the Lord.

He even claims that these
English Catholics

are more loyal to their queen
than they are to the pope.

The word he uses is "addicted."

He says they are
addicted to her.

And some translations
finish like this...

"Here ends the story
of the misfortunes

of the Spanish Armada,

which they used
to call invincible."

Invincible, ha-ha-ha.

It's even written
in capital letters,

just to heighten
that delicious irony.

The description of the Armada
as invincible

still appears
in history books today.

But it was never used
by the Spanish

to describe their Armada.

And it gets worse.

The letter was a fake.

It was a forgery.

It was made up by the
Machiavellian William Cecil,

Elizabeth's close advisor.

There are even drafts of it
in his own handwriting.

But this was a brilliantly
successful bit of fake news.

People believed it,
and they thought,

"Well, if even the English
Catholics are keen on the Queen,

then she must now truly rule
over a unified nation."

♪♪

In November 1588,

Queen Elizabeth I held
a procession through London.

This was her victory parade.

The Queen made her way
through the city to St Paul's

to give thanks.

God and his chosen
special monarch

together had saved the day.

They were the hero
and the heroine

at the heart of this narrative.

But in reality, though,
things weren't quite so heroic.

Elizabeth's promise at Tilbury
to reward her soldiers

proved to be empty rhetoric.

The war had drained
Elizabeth's coffers.

The sailors who fought for
England were hit by disease

and were still fighting
for their wages.

The crown threatened prison for
those slanderously suggesting

that they hadn't been paid.

William Cecil now rubbed salt
into the wound.

He said, "Well, if the soldiers
die of illness,

then at least the crown
won't have to pay them."

By the end of 1588,
more than half of the men

who'd fought in
the Armada campaign were dead,

and they were killed
not by the Spanish,

but by disease and starvation.

♪♪

The reality of post-Armada
England was economic crisis

and an increasingly
unpopular Queen.

It was time for a royal
makeover.

Elizabeth is now in her 50s,
unmarried, and too old

to produce the all-important
heir to the throne.

Her lustrous red locks
have gone.

Her face is pock-marked.

More than ever Elizabeth
must conceal her frailties.

Elizabeth has to manufacture
an image of eternal youth.

She needs to present herself

as something more
than merely mortal.

On goes the white lead makeup
to cover her smallpox scars...

and a red wig to cover up
her grey hair.

♪♪

♪♪

This is Elizabeth I
as the Virgin Queen.

She's married, but only
to her country,

and this isn't just an image
for her courtiers...

Everyone in England
will see this.

It's like a Tudor profile pic,

and the handle is Gloriana.

♪♪

♪♪

What we're seeing here
is the creation

of an Elizabethan
marketing campaign.

Elizabeth had lots
of different portraits

of herself commissioned,

and they were sent out
across England, across Europe.

And all of them were loaded
with propaganda messages.

They said that Queen Elizabeth I
is pure,

that she's powerful,

that's she's going to make
England great again.

♪♪

One of the most potent
of all Elizabeth's portraits

made specific reference
to the Armada

and to England's aspirations
to build an empire.

This portrait is absolutely
overflowing

with symbolism.

And indeed the pearls
are probably

the most prominent
symbol in this picture.

It seems to be the sort of
endless abundance of them.

Pearls at this period symbolized

purity and chastity,
and of course Elizabeth,

at this point, in 1588,
she's in her mid-50s,

she's no longer
of child-bearing age,

and we see this cult of the
Virgin Queen being introduced.

So, we have, for example,
this fabulous pearl

positioned exactly where,
in a portrait of Henry VIII,

you'd have an enormous
codpiece, for example.

So this is Elizabeth
really playing on this idea

of her virginity and, of course,

this is a mirror of the idea of
the impenetrability of England.

A Virgin Queen who'd failed
to produce an heir

was highly problematic.

But in the story of the Armada,

Elizabeth's virginity
becomes a superpower.

This puts her front and center
of the events unfolding,

and it positions her, really,
as the

sort of grand choreographer
of what's going on.

And she is, if you like,

the source of light
in this picture,

and she is casting her light
onto this scene

in the left of the picture
of the English fleet

and turning her back, of course,
on the Spanish fleet,

which is wrecked in this storm.

She's taking the credit
for it all, really.

Absolutely, yeah.
Absolutely.

Good for her.

She owns it.

And what has she got
under her hands, there?

This hand is hovering
over a globe,

and you can just about make out
her fingers

are almost caressing,

if you like,
an image of the Americas.

This is a not-so-subtle
reference to her

and England's ambitions
for empire.

But, indeed, when she died,
there was no empire

to be spoken of
beyond the British Isles.

This is really
an image of aspiration

and not of reality.

- The British Empire starts here.
- Indeed.

In the grasp of those
white fingers.

Indeed, yeah.

This is the sort of
creation myth,

if you like,
this idea of Britain

as an island nation
that is looking globally

with its ambitions
across the Atlantic.

This is just an amazingly
powerful propaganda

message, isn't it?

And wouldn't you say it's really
worked terrifically well?

It is the victors who write
history, of course,

so this is a classic case
of that.

And the painters who
paint history as well.

Indeed.

They did a very good job
in selling her version.

But Elizabeth's version
of history hid a brutal truth.

The Queen might be able to spin
Philip's disastrous attempt

to dethrone her
into an English victory,

but secretly she was
a long way off

winning the war with Spain.

Peace and unity come to England
as the Spanish ships

are broken by the storm.

But that's just another big fib,

'cause it's not the end of the
story of the Spanish Armada.

By the end of 1588,
Elizabethan England

was planning a Counter Armada.

The war with Spain
was unfinished business.

Around half of Philip's ships
had made it home

and were now being repaired.

So, in 1589, Sir Francis Drake
led an attack on Spain.

His orders were to destroy
what was left of Spain's fleet,

invade Spanish-owned Portugal,

and put a Portuguese king
on the throne.

But the expedition failed.

England's Counter Armada
was a disaster.

Today, English people have
forgotten the story

of the Counter Armada.

Was it well-known at the time,
in the 16th Century?

The pamphlets downplayed
the failure

and denounced negative accounts

of the expedition
as malicious slander.

Our propaganda was better, yes?

Yeah, of course, yeah.

So, we English people,
we like to think

that England beat Spain.

We won!
But it's not that simple, is it?

But as the war with Spain
dragged on,

no amount of propaganda
could hide the mounting

cost of the conflict,

and Elizabeth's popularity
began to fade.

Yet a cult of reverence
had built up around her.

One ambassador remarked that
in old age she was "graceful"

and "kept her dignity," and she
remained charismatic enough

to deliver a rousing speech
when needed.

In the end, Elizabeth was queen
for an extraordinary 44 years,

at that time, the third longest

reigning monarch England
had ever known.

♪♪

In 1603, the Tudor dynasty
came to an end

with Elizabeth's death.

The crowns of England
and Scotland were united,

as James VI of Scotland
became James I of England.

But with Elizabeth's death,
the cult of the Warrior Queen

began to exert
an even greater influence

over national identity,

and a new generation
looked to her

and to the events of her reign
to weave a powerful myth

about the origins of
Britain's Imperial might.

The heroic Queen strand
of the Armada tale

continued to dominate
in the 17th Century.

But now it wasn't just Elizabeth
being mythologized.

With all this talk about
a Protestant wind

and a royal victory,

the contribution
that the navy made

to the defeat
of the Spanish Armada

seemed to be
taking second place.

But the commander of the fleet,
Lord Howard of Effingham,

he saw things differently.

In 1592,
Lord Howard commissioned

one of Europe's greatest weavers

to create 10 tapestries
for his London home.

Based on his own account
of the campaign,

they cost over £1,500,

the equivalent
of 87 years' wages

for the average English worker
at the time.

These tapestries told the naval
story of the Armada

on a gigantic scale.

They were four meters tall,

some of them were
nine meters wide.

They must've looked absolutely
massive in Howard's house.

But they were going to make
an even bigger impact than that.

In 1616, Howard sold
his tapestries to King James.

And they were hung at the heart
of political power...

In the House of Lords.

By the late 18th century,

the tapestries had become
an integral part of Westminster.

Not only were they a reminder
of the great historical event,

they were also being used as
propaganda in their own right.

In 1798, Britain was threatened
by another European invasion,

this time
from Napoleonic France.

To inspire patriotism,

satirist James Gillray created
a series of cartoons

called "Consequences of a
Successful French Invasion."

Gillray shows
French revolutionaries

who've invaded England tearing
down the Armada tapestries.

This one is hacking at them
with his sword,

this one is setting fire
to them.

And here are the familiar words
about the defeat

of the Spanish
invincible Armada.

England's great triumph
over a European enemy

is really what's
being torn down here.

And with it, one of
the founding mythologies

of England's national story.

In 1834, Gillray's vision
of burning tapestries

became a reality.

A fire swept through Westminster
and they were destroyed.

But a plan soon emerged to
recreate the tapestries

as paintings for the new
Victorian Palace of Westminster.

Here the Victorians created
a space to showcase,

not just the Armada victory,

but the whole "Golden Age"
of Elizabeth's

reigning Tudor dynasty.

Whose artistic vision
do we see here,

in this really rich
gold-encrusted interior?

Well, the Fine Arts Commission
were tasked

with decorating
the entire palace,

but it was Prince Albert,
as the chair of the commission,

who really drove the direction

of the artistic works
that we see here.

This room was selected
to be a Tudor room.

So, the scenes that you see
around the room

are various scenes
from Tudor history.

These are then topped with
a series of Tudor portraits,

and then all of this
is topped off

with the views of the Armada.

And at the center
of the entire room,

we have this enormous statue

of Queen Victoria herself,
by Gibson.

It's pretty Tudor-tastic
in here.

It certainly is.

I think it's very telling,
'cause there's been, you know,

a lot of British history

that was available
to them to revive,

but no,
they went for the Tudor age.

That seemed
like the most potent,

the most exciting age for them
to associate themselves with.

Well, the Armada's seen
as the most important

British naval victory
in history,

and so by highlighting
a link to that,

it's showing
the enormous naval power

of Britain in the Victorian age.

She thought,
"I'd like a little bit

of that glory to rub off on me."
- Absolutely.

I mean, having Victoria's
enormous statue in this space

is drawing a very clear line

between Victoria herself
and all of her Tudor forbears.

This is about showing
the continuous link

between a sort of golden age
of British monarchy,

of Elizabeth I,
and the relatively,

at this point,
relatively new Queen Victoria.

♪♪

For the Victorians, the
Golden Age of Elizabeth's reign

and her Armada victory signaled
the start of the British Empire.

In the 19th Century,
Britannia ruled the waves,

and heroic tales
about the Armada

seemed to offer a connection
to England's past.

This story of British sea power
began with Drake's game of bowls

and led to this massive empire.

The Victorians pushed
the naval triumph

back into
the national consciousness.

Monuments and art celebrated
Sir Francis Drake.

And Elizabethan sea dogs became
the heroes of popular fiction.

As the Empire flourished,
the Armada victory

became a tale of
British naval power and courage.

And Elizabeth I?

To the Victorians, she was
the iconic mother figure

of an English "Golden Age"
who oversaw

the origin story of Empire
and national identity,

and that version of the story
survived,

even as the British Empire
eventually crumbled.

Nearly 400 years after
the defeat of the Armada,

another female leader

would be inspired
by Elizabeth the Warrior Queen.

I know there are one or two men
of prejudice,

but after all, their prejudice
is really so, so ridiculous.

I mean, I say to some of them
sometimes,

"My goodness, it's as well
you didn't live in the time

of Queen Elizabeth I, isn't it?"

After all, I wonder
if we should've grown

to such a fantastic nation

if we hadn't
had people like her.

In January 1976,

Margaret Thatcher gave a speech
called "Britain Awake."

It was a call to arms
for Britain

to stand up to communism
and Russian aggression.

Now, in response to the speech,

a Soviet newspaper,
the Red Star,

came up with a nickname
for Margaret Thatcher.

It was The Iron Lady.

She was quick
to respond to this,

and a week later she made
another speech defending herself

with what seems to be
an allusion to Elizabeth I.

I stand before you tonight

in my red star chiffon
evening gown.

♪♪

My face softly made up
and my fair hair gently waved.

The Iron Lady
of the Western World.

She too had a feminine exterior

hiding the heart
and stomach of a king.

They're welcome to call me
what they like,

if they believe
that we should ignore

the build-up
of Russian military strength.

The Iron Lady moniker
would stick,

and so too would the image
of Thatcher as warrior leader,

at the center of the action
amongst her troops.

Jenni, how does it seem to you
that Margaret Thatcher

used the idea of Elizabeth I
in her self-presentation?

Elizabeth I was
a phenomenal person

for putting herself forward,
knowing how to dress,

knowing how to behave,
knowing how to speak,

knowing how to be feminine
and war-like.

And when Thatcher put herself up
onto a tank,

she was doing exactly what
Elizabeth I had done at Tilbury.

Whenever I drive past Tilbury,
a little thrill goes through me,

and has done since
I was a teenager,

and I learned about Elizabeth I
on her white charger,

delivering that amazing speech
that,

you know, she had the body
of a weak and feeble woman,

but the heart
and stomach of a king.

And I remember thinking
as a teenager,

"Wow, that is amazing."

And then when I looked
at Thatcher, I thought,

"She has exactly that
same sense of femininity

and having to play on her
femininity to quite a degree."

Whether Thatcher thought,

"Mm, maybe I could be
like Elizabeth I,"

I don't know, but when Elizabeth
sat on that charger

and made her wonderful speech,

you can draw a direct line
to Thatcher sitting on a tank.

Elizabeth's Tilbury visit has
become a touchstone of history,

but it's a touchstone built
on shaky foundations.

Now, the Tilbury speech
that everybody loves,

does it not matter to you that
it didn't really quite happen

in that way that we like
to think that it did?

I know it's questionable,
but I will not question it.

That image of a woman
being powerful

and taking control
and being proud of her power

and knowing how to express it
is a myth that...

I don't believe it's a myth.
I think it's true.

So, even if it's a myth,

it's a good myth
for us to have around?

It's a very good myth.

- Yeah.
- "Take that, history!"

Quite.

Margaret Thatcher understood
the power of the Armada legend,

and even after she left office,

she continued to use Elizabethan
history for her own purposes.

In 1998, the Chilean dictator
General Pinochet

was held under house
arrest in England.

Spain wanted to extradite him

to face trial
for human rights crimes.

Margaret Thatcher took on
the Spanish

and campaigned for his release.

When Pinochet was declared
unfit to stand trial

and sent home, his plane
was stopped on the runway

to take delivery of a gift
from Margaret Thatcher.

It was a plate commemorating
the defeat

of the Spanish Armada.

It came with a personal note
from Thatcher.

"With your return to Chile,"
she wrote,

"Spain's attempt
at judicial colonialism

has been decisively and,
I trust, permanently rebuffed."

Now, we don't know
what Pinochet made of his plate,

but we do know that the Spanish
weren't impressed by all this.

Their foreign minister said

that Thatcher
needed her head examining.

And so the story
of the Spanish Armada

has a powerful legacy,

but would the myth
be so enduring

if it weren't for the inspiring
Warrior Queen at its heart?

Surely, it's Elizabeth's story
that makes it feel special.

It's been used to convince us

that our little island
can take on superpowers,

that we come from a line
of cool-headed

and inspirational leaders,

that, small as we are, we can
still play a mighty role

on the world stage.

Even in a secular age,
it seems like English people,

British people, feel special,
marked out for greatness.

And whether it's true or not,

the drama of that defeat
of the Armada

gives us the confidence
to believe in ourselves.

Who knows where that potent
mix of fact and fantasy

and fibs may take us next?

♪♪

Next time, the inside story

of forgotten Queen Anne
of England,

whose legacy was destroyed
by salacious gossip

about her love life.

Besides the church,
she dearly loved

a dirty chambermaid.

But was she really
the secret mother figure

of a global power?

The nation that became
Great Britain.

She was exactly the queen
that England,

and then later Great Britain,
needed.