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Francis Englefield

For others of this name, see Englefield baronets.

Sir Francis Englefield

Born c.1522 Died 13 September 1596, St Albans College, Valladolid, Spain Spouse Katherine Fettiplace Father Sir Thomas Englefield Mother Elizabeth Throckmorton

Sir Francis Englefield (c. 1522 – 1596) was an English courtier whose life trajectory was less a path and more a protracted, inevitable slide into Roman Catholic exile. He navigated the treacherous currents of Tudor politics with a certain, perhaps fatal, conviction, only to find himself on the wrong side of a queen and a changing nation. His story serves as a rather stark reminder that conviction, while admirable, often comes with a hefty, non-negotiable price tag.

Family

The foundations of Francis Englefield's eventual predicament were laid in his ancestry. Born around 1522, he was the eldest son of Thomas Englefield (1488–1537) of Englefield, Berkshire, a man who held the rather significant title of Justice of the Common Pleas. His mother was Elizabeth Throckmorton (died 1543), a sister to Sir George Throckmorton (died 1552), and daughter of Sir Robert Throckmorton (died 1518) of the notably and enduringly Catholic family hailing from Coughton Court in Warwickshire. One might say the family tree itself was practically blooming with dissent, or at least, with a stubborn adherence to the old faith.

His paternal grandfather, another Sir Thomas Englefield (1455–1514), offered a glimpse into the family's earlier, perhaps less fraught, engagement with the Crown. This elder Sir Thomas had served as an adviser to the notoriously mercurial Henry VIII during the King's more impressionable youth, and had even ascended to the esteemed position of Speaker of the House of Commons in both 1497 and 1510. Such a lineage suggested a family deeply entrenched in the legal and political fabric of England, a position from which to witness, and eventually suffer, the seismic shifts of the century.

Francis also had a brother, John Englefield (died 1567), who chose to solidify family connections through marriage to Margaret Fitton. Margaret was the daughter of Sir Edward Fitton (died 1547/48) of Gawsworth and his wife, Mary Harbottle (died 1557), further weaving the Englefields into the intricate tapestry of the English gentry. Beyond the male line, Francis had three sisters, each contributing to the family's expansive network. Margaret Englefield (died 1563) married firstly, George Carew (died 1538), and then, rather significantly, Sir Edward Saunders (1506–1576), who would later become the [Chief Baron of the Exchequer] – a position of considerable legal and financial power. Another sister, Anne Englefield, married Humphrey Coningsby (1515–1569), while Susan Englefield married Humphrey Barnes. These marital alliances were not merely personal unions; they were strategic reinforcements, creating a web of kinship that could be both a source of strength and, in turbulent times, a shared vulnerability.

Career

Francis, inheriting the family estates upon his father's death in 1537, found himself coming of age just as England was irrevocably altering its spiritual and political landscape. Conveniently, he was too young to have been directly embroiled in the initial, messy opposition to the abolition of Roman Catholic jurisdiction or the rather profitable dissolution of the monasteries. This afforded him a brief period of relative political neutrality, or perhaps, a pragmatic silence. He outwardly acquiesced to these monumental changes, going so far as to take the now-obligatory oath of royal supremacy, a measure designed to ensure fealty to the monarch as the supreme head of the Church of England. Further demonstrating his apparent conformity, he served as High Sheriff of Berkshire and Oxfordshire during the years 1546–1547. In 1545, he even expanded his landholdings, purchasing the manor of Tilehurst, which had been conveniently made available following its confiscation from Reading Abbey. His loyalty, or at least his adaptability, seemed to be rewarded when he received a knighthood at the coronation of Edward VI of England in February 1547. A promising start, if one didn't look too closely at the convictions bubbling beneath the surface.

However, the accelerating pace of the Reformation during Edward VI's brief reign proved to be a bridge too far for Englefield's inherent Roman Catholic sympathies. The steady dismantling of the old faith, the increasingly Protestant leanings of the court, gradually alienated him. By 1549, he had gravitated towards the household of the staunchly Catholic Princess Mary, a clear signal of where his true allegiances lay. This was not a subtle move; aligning oneself with the princess who defiantly clung to the old religion was a statement, and one that carried considerable risk.

Indeed, the consequences were swift. In August of that same year, Englefield was dispatched to the grim confines of the Tower of London for the rather audacious offense of permitting Mass to be celebrated within Mary's household. He was eventually released the following March, permitted to resume his duties in Mary's service, though one can only imagine the watchful eyes that followed him. Yet, his commitment to Mary remained unwavering, or perhaps simply stubborn. In February 1553, he was again summoned before the privy council, and it is plausible he found himself under confinement during the critical juncture of July that year, when Edward VI's death plunged England into a succession crisis. He was likely only released upon Mary's eventual triumph and accession to the throne, as his name conspicuously fails to appear among those who rallied to her banner before the middle of August.

With Mary now Queen, Englefield's steadfast, if perilous, loyalty was finally rewarded. He was sworn in as a member of the privy council, joining a rather large cohort of individuals whose promotion owed more to their unwavering devotion during Mary's difficult years than to any exceptional political acumen. This influx of loyalists, while personally gratifying for Mary, had the unfortunate side effect of significantly swelling the council's numbers, thereby, and perhaps predictably, impairing its overall efficiency. Mary, however, remained resolute, resisting various attempts to thin their ranks. She valued her staunch friends, viewing them as a crucial and salutary check upon the abler, but often less scrupulous, members who had demonstrated a rather flexible loyalty, having served Edward VI with as much apparent enthusiasm as they now served her. Englefield represented Berkshire in all of Mary's parliaments, with the sole exception of the one convened in April 1554. Despite his unwavering support, he did not ascend to any higher political office beyond the rather lucrative mastership of the court of wards, a position that, while financially rewarding, kept him somewhat removed from the highest echelons of policy-making.

Exile

Englefield's deep-seated Roman Catholic convictions made him an ardent and vocal supporter of the Marian persecutions, a period marked by the brutal suppression of Protestantism. He was notably present at John Hooper's trial, observing the proceedings that led to the bishop's condemnation, and even actively sought the ruin of figures such as Roger Ascham. Given his fervent adherence to the old faith and his enthusiastic participation in Mary's efforts to restore it, it was almost an inevitability that he would lose his office and his seat on the privy council upon Elizabeth I of England's accession in 1558. The winds of religious change had shifted once more, and Englefield, a man of unyielding principle in an era that prized adaptability, found himself dangerously exposed.

He made the prudent, if heartbreaking, decision to retire to the continent of Europe before May 1559, effectively choosing exile over compromise. This act of self-imposed banishment marked the true beginning of his life as a political and religious refugee. In 1564, his status was formalized by an act of outlawry, meaning he was legally declared outside the protection of English law, and his estates were subsequently sequestered by the Crown. He would spend the remainder of his long life in exile, a testament to his unwavering commitment to his faith and his profound disagreement with the new religious order in England.

Englefield's years in exile were spent first in the ancient, spiritual heart of Roman Catholic power, Rome, before moving to the Low Countries, a hotbed of political and religious intrigue, and finally settling in Valladolid, Spain. The latter part of his life was particularly challenging; he endured blindness for the last two decades, a cruel irony for a man who had once been so keen to "see" the restoration of Catholicism in England. During this period, he received a pension of six hundred crowns from Philip II of Spain, a clear indication of his continued value as a figurehead for the Catholic cause and a thorn in Elizabeth's side.

His outlawry in 1564 and the sequestration of his estates were not the end of the Crown's pursuit. His persistent and fervent correspondence with the Pope and the King of Spain, particularly on behalf of the imprisoned Mary, Queen of Scots, eventually brought about a more severe legislative response: an Act of Attainder against Englefield in 1585. This parliamentary act declared him guilty of treason without a trial, leading to the forfeiture of his lands and titles. However, even with this draconian measure, legal difficulties arose in the Crown's attempts to fully appropriate his extensive properties. Englefield, with a shrewd foresight that belied his later blindness, had conditionally settled his estates on his nephew, also named Francis Englefield (c. 1561 – 26 October 1631), clearly anticipating such a contingency.

The protracted legal arguments surrounding this complex situation are meticulously documented in Edward Coke's influential Reports, highlighting the intricate legal battles waged over the estates of exiled Catholics. To resolve these lingering ambiguities and confirm the forfeiture to the Crown, a further Act of Parliament was deemed necessary and passed in 1592, specifically titled the "Englefield Attainder Act 1592" (35 Eliz. 1. c. 5). This act, with the rather pointed long title "An Acte confyrming the Quenes Title to the lands of Sir Frauncys Englefield," received Royal assent on 10 April 1593, though its commencement was retroactively set to 18 February 1593. It remained in force for centuries, only finally being repealed by the Statute Law (Repeals) Act 1977 on 16 June 1977.

Despite the Crown's relentless efforts, Francis Englefield's nephew eventually managed to recover some of the family estates. This younger Francis Englefield, perhaps learning from his uncle's uncompromising fate, was subsequently created a baronet in 1612, a title that represented a degree of rehabilitation for the family name. The elder Sir Francis was known to still be alive in September 1596, but it is generally accepted that he passed away in Valladolid around the close of that year. His tomb in Valladolid reportedly became a point of interest for visitors, pointed out as the resting place of a man of considerable, if tragically misguided, eminence.

Englefield Attainder Act 1592

  • Act of Parliament: Parliament of England
  • Long title: An Acte confyrming the Quenes Title to the lands of Sir Frauncys Englefield.
  • Citation: 35 Eliz. 1. c. 5
  • Territorial extent: England and Wales
  • Dates:
    • Royal assent: 10 April 1593
    • Commencement: 18 February 1593
  • Repealed: 16 June 1977
  • Other legislation: Repealed by Statute Law (Repeals) Act 1977
  • Relates to: Attainder of Lord Paget and others Act 1586
  • Status: Repealed
  • Text of statute as originally enacted

Englefield's nephew, namesake, and eventual heir, Sir Francis Englefield (c. 1561 – 26 October 1631), who became the 1st Baronet Englefield, further cemented the family's standing through his marriage. He married Jane Browne, who was the daughter of Anthony Browne (22 July 1552 – 29 June 1592) and Mary Dormer, the daughter of Sir William Dormer (died 1575). This Jane Browne held notable familial connections: she was the niece of Mary Wriothesley, Countess of Southampton (22 July 1552 – 4 November 1607), and the granddaughter of Anthony Browne, 1st Viscount Montagu (died 19 October 1592) by his first wife, Jane Radcliffe. These connections illustrate the enduring power of dynastic marriages within the English aristocracy, even as the religious and political landscape continued its tumultuous evolution.

Notes

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