Elizabeth I: The Protestant Queen Who Hunted Catholics

When Mary Tudor died, the fires in England went out.

But the conflict didn’t.

In this episode, we follow the rise of Elizabeth I and the world she inherited..... a country already divided by faith, fear, and years of violence. Where Mary used fire, Elizabeth would take a different approach.

But for Catholics living under her rule, belief itself could become dangerous in a new way.

This is the story of what happened when the struggle for England’s faith didn’t end… it simply changed form.

If you enjoy stories where history, faith, and real human decisions collide, follow along as the story continues.

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Transcript

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The wooden panel slides shut behind him. From the outside, the wall looks completely ordinary. The dark beams, smooth plaster, nothing that would make someone stop and stare. But inside the wall, Edmund Campion cannot even straighten his back. The space is barely wide enough for a man to stand in. The air smells of damp timber and packed earth. Dust clings to his throat. But if he coughs, if he shifts his weight, if the boards creak even slightly, someone on the other side of the wall might hear it. And right now, the house is filling with soldiers. The front door bursts open, boots slam across the floorboards, and a voice shouts from the hallway search the place. Another voice answers from the stairs. Check the walls. The houses hide them. Campion closes his eyes and presses himself harder into the narrow darkness, praying he won't be caught. Because the men searching the house are not looking for money. They're not looking for stolen goods. They're looking for him and many others like him. And if they find him, the punishment will not be prison. It will be a brutal public execution. But to understand why an Oxford scholar is hiding inside the walls of an English farmhouse, you have to go back more than 20 years, back to a country that had already been tearing itself apart and massacring people for centuries. Welcome to the Unseen Witness, where we uncover hidden stories from Christian history where faith, power, and mystery collide. Today we're closing out our series on the English Reformation. If you haven't heard the other three episodes that led us up to this moment, make sure you go back to my podcast and hear them out. Cold air presses against your face as you step into the street. The ground beneath your boots is wet with mud as carts creak past and chimney smoke hangs low over the rooftop. And then the bells begin to ring. The heavy sound rolls across the town. Doors open, people step outside and begin walking towards the church. Inside the church, the air is stagnant as people settle into the wooden pews. At the front, the priest begins to speak. Every person here must swear an oath, acknowledging the queen as the supreme authority over the church. It is a law you must obey in England. A murmur moves through the room as the words pass the congregation. Some repeat them immediately, their voices blending together beneath the stone ceiling. But in the third row, a Catholic man lowers his head. His lips stay closed while the people around him speak the oath out loud. He stares at the worn woods of the pew in front of him and says nothing. The silence is noticed by the officials standing at the back of the church, the same officials who stand there and take attendance at the beginning of every church service. At the same time, outside, the bells continue to ring, and in a small house at the edge of the town, another Catholic family hears the same bells. The father stands at the window, watching neighbors walk past toward the church while his wife sits at the table with two children beside her. The father lets the curtains fall closed. We're not going. No one in the room argues. Everyone understands what the decision means. And days later, a horse stops outside of their house, which is followed by a knock on their door. Then the father opens the door and a folded paper sealed with wax is placed in his hand. A fine for refusing Protestant church attendance. The coins disappear from the small wooden box he has hidden beneath the bed. Weeks pass, and another writer arrives with another paper, then another. Each fine is heavier than the last. Soon the cupboard this family has empties and the coins run out. And one cold morning, the door opens again, but this time the father carries their belongings outside: a blanket, a small chest, and a bundle of clothes tied with a rope. The house behind them no longer belongs to them. The fines and the penalties have taken it and is now owned by the crown. The children stand beside their parents in the street, homeless. Somewhere in the distance, the church bells begin ringing yet again. Across England, scenes like this unfold quietly more and more every day. Catholic belief in England has not disappeared. It has simply learned how to survive in the shadows. You see, Elizabeth does not begin her reign with fires and executions like her father, her sister, or her brother did, but Catholics in England soon learn they are still expected to stay in line. And if they don't, something awful will happen. Then in the spring of 1570, a messenger arrives from Rome. He is brought before Queen Elizabeth carrying a single letter. The parchment bears a wax seal that everyone in the room recognizes immediately. It's the seal of the Pope. Elizabeth takes a letter and breaks it open. The declaration inside is not long. Pope Pius V has excommunicated her, but the letter does not stop there. It declares that Catholics living in England are no longer required to obey their queen. Now, inside the Vatican, the words may read like liberation, but inside England, they sound like something far more dangerous. Because if Catholics place loyalty to Rome above loyalty to the crown, then any Catholic household in England can begin to look like a huge threat. Elizabeth has tried to avoid the fires and executions that consume the reins of her family. But now the kingdom she fought to stabilize suddenly feels like it's under a threat. And in Tudor dynasty England, when a monarch believes a kingdom is in danger, someone always pays for it with blood. Lots and lots of blood. And this time it will be of the Catholics once again. The pressure does not arrive all at once. At first, it comes through new laws. Catholic priests are no longer treated simply as religious leaders because, in the eyes of the Crown, they become something far more dangerous. Secret agents of Rome operating inside of England. Simply being a Catholic or a Catholic priest in the country is now considered treason. And yet, the priests keep coming. They travel the countryside in secret, moving from house to house, celebrating mass behind closed doors for Catholics who refuse to abandon their faith. So, under Elizabeth's orders, the hunts for Catholics and priests begin. Search parties move from house to house across the countryside. Soldiers arrive without a warning. Doors are forced open in the middle of the night. Floors are ripped apart, walls are probed with iron rods, listening for hollow spaces. Because Catholic families have begun building something strange into their homes. Hidden chambers carved into the walls, small spaces just large enough for a man to stand inside. They are called priest holes. Holes like the one that Edmund Campion is standing inside of right now, holding his breath and praying that soldiers searching the house did not find him. Above him, the soldiers move through the room, opening chests and pulling furniture aside as they search the house piece by piece, no stone left unturned. Then one of them stops. He runs his hands slowly along the wall. There's something behind this, he says. The wood begins to shift as the panel is forced open. Light pours into the narrow space, and hands reach inside and they pull Campion out. The search is over. The house belonged to a Catholic family named the Yates, who had given Campion shelter, knowing the danger it placed them in. Harboring a priest is treated just as treason. Their home is seized by the crown, and the family is left ruined after all of the heavy penalties. And as for Campion, he is taken to the Tower of London, where he is questioned an order to recognize Queen Elizabeth as the supreme authority over the church in England. But of course, like many other Jesuits, he refuses. And in December of 1581, Edmund Cambion is taken to Tyborn and executed for treason. He's even mocked wearing a hat that says traitor. But his execution is not an isolated moment. Over the course of Elizabeth's reign, roughly 200 Catholic priests and lay people alike are executed under treason laws tied to religious loyalty. Thousands more are imprisoned, fined, or interrogated for refusing to conform. Many prisons are held in places like the Tower of London, where damp stone cells, cold air, and disease wear down the people held inside. Some are placed in cramped underground chambers. Others face repeated questioning and torture meant to force them to reveal the name of other Catholics. If they're caught praying, if they are caught with a rosary, if anything of this sort happens, they are executed. And in fact, secret spies are sent into the prison cells with them to report back on who is Catholic and where they're hiding their stuff. Even small signs of Catholic devotion can become dangerous. A hidden rosary, a priest's vestment, or the suspicion that mass has been held inside a home can be enough to bring soldiers to the door. Once accused, proving innocence is nearly impossible in a country where loyalty and religion have become inseparable. For years, the arrests and the executions continue. Not to mention that someone could plant a rosary on you if you refused a date with them, if you refused anything that they didn't like. Then, in 1588, Spain launches the Spanish Armada, a massive Catholic fleet sent to invade England and to remove Elizabeth from the throne. For many in England, for many Protestants, it feels like proof that the Catholic powers truly mean to overthrow their queen. But the invasion the Catholics had planned fails. Storms scatter the fleet, and English ships drive the rest away. With the threat of invasion gone, Elizabeth's throne finally feels secure. And slowly the waves of executions begin to decline. Because according to Protestants, this destruction of the fleet meant to invade has failed, and that failure is a sign to them that Protestantism is the way. When Elizabeth dies in 1603 after ruling England for 45 years, the Protestant Church of England she established remains the foundation of the country's religious life. The Protestant settlement she created has become the foundation of English life. The consequences of that era will last for centuries. Catholics will remain barred from many public roles in Britain until the Roman Catholic Relief Act of 1829. And even today, the legacy of those Tudor conflicts still appears in the monarchy itself. Yet, the violence that once filled England with executions, burnings, and hidden priest holes has largely faded. Today, Catholic and Protestants live side by side across Britain. The walls no longer hide priests. The searches no longer happen in the middle of the night. And the terrifying world that forced a man like Enmund Campion to disappear into the walls of a farmhouse now survive mostly as history. But one rule from that era still remains a Catholic can never, ever, ever sit on the British throne. Thanks for listening. If you enjoyed the episode, follow the podcast so you don't miss the next story, and please leave me a review. It helps others find my show so I can continue to do this.