Sunday, 21 August 2011

A Mother and Husband to the Realm? How Mary’s Speech as Queen Helped Elizabeth I





Yesterday I came across an article by Cristy Beemer published only a month ago on ‘The Female Monarchy: Rhetorical Strategy of Early Modern Rule’ (Rhetoric Review, 30, 8, pp. 258-74). The article explores the manner in which Mary and Elizabeth, England’s first queen regnants, presented themselves to a kingdom accustomed only to male rulers. Beemer identified Mary and Elizabeth’s tendencies to employ ‘the figures of the spouse, the mother, and the maiden to embody conventional roles for women in Tudor society’ (p. 259) though naturally these two occupied very remarkable roles for women of that age. Unlike other ‘mothers’ and ‘maidens’ they were not answerable to a male figure. Like their fellow Tudor monarchs, they expected to be recognised as the superior authority in the realm. Their bodies, Beemer argues, naturally invoked traditional gendered roles but at the same time their speech denied such roles. In other words, Mary and Elizabeth did not adopt submissive language but rather formulated speech that demonstrated their authority, their independence as rulers – their right to govern as powerfully and freely as their male predecessors.


But it is Beemer’s specific focus on Mary’s speech that I wanted to draw attention to. Like several recent historians, namely Judith Richards, Beemer argues that Elizabeth had a lot to thank her sister for as Mary of course governed first, challenged preconceived notions of female rule first, tested the waters so to speak, and made mistakes which proved equally valuable for Elizabeth. It is Mary’s speech before the Guildhall in 1554 that Beemer focuses on specifically. In 1554 the rebels of Wyatt’s uprising (primarily a protest against Mary’s prospective marriage to Philip of Spain) marched towards the city of London and the authorities were anxious that they would receive a warm reception once they got there or at least could not be held outside the city. Mary, who was advised to leave the capital, decided to stay and give a rousing speech at the Guildhall, which won her acclaim and plenty of support. During the speech, Mary declared that she was,

‘...wedded to the realm and laws of the same (the spousal ring whereof I have on my finger, which never hitherto was, nor hereafter shall be left off), you promised allegiance and obedience to me’ (p. 263).


Beemer points out that Mary very deliberately avoided calling herself a ‘wife’. She is ‘wedded’ to her kingdom but she employs the word ‘spouse’. She does not cast herself in the submissive role of a wife who was expected to obey her husband duly. Thus Mary gives her subjects no reason to believe they hold the power to command her; ‘Mary takes on the role as the person to whom obedience is sworn’ (p. 264). Beemer concludes ‘in one of the first examples of the strategy of gender play that female monarchs used to establish ethos, Mary will not be a wife to England, but rather, a husband’ (ibid).


In the same speech Mary went on to refer to herself as a ‘prince and governor’ instead of just using the term ‘queen’. Beemer points out (and I never noticed this before), that the Oxford English Dictionary attributes the first reference to a female sovereign as ‘prince’ to Geste’s 1560 sermon where he is referencing to Elizabeth I.* But Mary endorsed this term as early as 1554 (Beemer does point out rightly that the Guildhall speech was first recorded after Mary’s death but if accurate, and there is wide consensus that the speech is correct, it was still said by Mary six years before Geste used the term). Elizabeth described herself as ‘prince’ on numerous occasions. She was obviously supporting existing terminology advanced earlier by Mary who was keen to emphasise her similarity to male counterparts.


As everyone knows, Mary went on to marry and hoped the union would produce children, namely that longed for Catholic Tudor-Habsburg heir. How did a pregnant queen, or one who hoped of bearing heirs in the immediate future, continue with her image as a ruler whose power and rights matched a king’s? Beemer points out again that Mary continued this dual role; she emphasised her female body, namely her ability to produce children but in the same breath she explained that she hoped to continue the dynastic line like ‘my progenitors have done before’ (p. 265). Beemer explains that ‘Mary’s careful choice of the word progenitors is rhetorically savvy. Unlike the neutral gender marking of the Latin origin of prince, princeps, the term progenitors is gendered masculine in the Latin. Like the male princes before her, Mary’s ruling progenitors are exclusively male. Evoking a history of men, the discussion of succession is changed. Mary places her fertility on a level playing field with the men who came before her; the issue is one of succession only and not complicated by her gender. Although her female body signifies difference, her single status is no more problematic than any of the single men who ruled before her.’ (Ibid). The rest of the article chiefly concerns Elizabeth ‘mirroring’ her sister. And if we credit Beemer’s arguments, she was a useful model of queenship to follow.



Beemer’s article is well worth reading and I probably haven’t done it enough justice here. She is not the first, nor probably the last historian to draw attention to the legacy Mary left to Elizabeth, an inheritance which has forever been seen in a negative fashion (loss of Calais, religious turmoil, etc), but which was more fruitful than many have liked to admit.




Full article: Cristy Beemer, ‘The Female Monarchy: Rhetorical Strategy of Early Modern Rule’, Rhetoric Review, 30, 8 (2011), pp. 258-74.



* For those who don’t have a subscription to the OxfordED, here is the relevant entry:

Prince
Applied to a female sovereign. Obs.


1560 Geste Serm. in H. G. Dugdale Life (1840) App. i. 191 Let us low our prince [sc. Q. Eliz.],‥nothing thinking sayeng or doyng that may turne to hyr dyshonor, prayeng all way for hyr long and prosperus reigne.

Monday, 8 August 2011

New books, talks & an exhibition

Unfortunately I have to start this post with bad news. As reported yesterday in the Telegraph, hundreds of documents have been ‘mislaid’ in The National Archives. Worse, from our perspective, they include documents relating to the sixteenth-century. The article only comments on the loss of works from the courts of Henry VIII and Elizabeth I, but this may be the usual offhand way of saying Tudor dynasty as a whole (if they put ‘and the court of Mary I’, they are unlikely to elicit the same outrage from the average reader than stating we have lost records from Henry and Elizabeth’s reigns. Sigh). How many documents of Mary’s reign have also been lost is yet to be seen.



On to more pleasant matters; there are several upcoming books of interest. John Edward’s biography of Mary is due out the end of this month (more info here). Several studies of Mary’s kin are in the works. They include:


Patrick Williams, Catherine of Aragon: A Life (Amberley Publishing). Confusingly two dates have been supplied for this – one being the 15th of this month, the other June 2012. This ‘monumental new biography’ claims to be ‘the first to make full use of the Spanish Royal Archives’. Hopefully it will be akin to Eric Ives’s masterly study of Anne Boleyn.


At last we have a full scale study of Mary’s husband’s time as, well, her husband. Harry Kelsey’s Philip of Spain, King of England: The Forgotten Sovereign (I.B. Tauris), is out on 30/11/2011. The synopsis:

‘The Spanish Armada conjures up images of age-old rivalries, bravery and treachery. However the same Spanish monarch who sent the Armada to invade England in 1588 was, just a few years previously, the King of England and husband of Mary Tudor. This important new book sheds new light on Philip II of Spain, England's forgotten sovereign. Previous accounts of Mary's brief reign have focused on the martyrdom of Protestant dissenters, the loss of English territory, as well as Mary's infamous personality, meaning that her husband Philip has remained in the shadows. In this book, Harry Kelsey uncovers Philip's life - from his childhood and education in Spain, to his marriage to Mary and the political manoeuvrings involved in the marriage contract, to the tumultuous aftermath of Mary's death which ultimately led to hostile relations between Queen Elizabeth and Philip, culminating in the Armada. Focusing especially on the period of Philip's marriage to Mary, Kelsey shows that Philip was, in fact, an active King of England and took a keen interest in the rule of his wife's kingdom. Casting fresh light on both Mary and Philip, as well as European history more generally, this book will be essential reading for anyone interested in the Tudor era.’





Kelsey is not the only one to focus on this issue. For some years now Glyn Redworth has been researching Philip’s time as King of England. I’m always checking his Manchester University page to see whether he has a study on this coming out, but as yet no word. Back in late 2009 he mentioned he was writing an account of ‘The Short Reign of King Philip the Brief of England (Philip I, 1554-1558’) –‘Philip the brief’, love it! He is doing a talk on this matter for a conference on prince consorts at the IHR this December. I’m very tempted to attend despite this talk being the only one of interest to me in the whole programme. If you are interested in this conference, the programme and registration details will be confirmed on 1st Sept.


A study of Mary’s aunt and namesake, Mary Tudor (youngest daughter of Henry VII; consort of Louis XII of France and the grandmother of Lady Jane Grey) is currently being written by Jennifer Kewley Draskau. The biography entitled, The Tudor Rose: Princess Mary Rose, Henry VIII’s Sister, will be published by The History Press Ltd in May 2013.


Kelly Hart has got books on two Tudor women connected to Mary out (one due next year). One is on Katherine Brandon, duchess of Suffolk. Despite going into exile during Mary’s reign, the duchess and Mary were on good terms for a number of years (as Mary’s expense records attest; plenty of trips to see the duchess for some serious gambling. Tut tut!). The study will focus on the rather overblown (in my opinion) one-time rumour that Henry VIII considered ditching sixth wife Katherine Parr and making the duchess his next missus. There already exists a superb study of the duchess and her religious affiliations by Melissa Franklin-Harkrider, so I’m not sure this new book will make much of an impact.
Hart’s other biography will be on Jane Seymour, Henry VIII’s third wife and Mary’s stepmother. Mary and Jane were of course on good terms, and I imagine the nature of their relationship will be explored fully. Apparently the book is out in March.


The ever productive David Loades has yet another book out soon. This time it is a new overview of the Tudor dynasty. Lets hope his section on Mary pays careful consideration to the works on her reign that have been published in recent years. Loades’s book, The Tudors: History of a Dynasty (Continuum Publishing Corporation) is out in March.


Finally the exhibition, Making History: Antiquaries in Britain, which celebrates the achievements of the Society of Antiquaries of London, will be coming to the US. The exhibition will first be held at the McMullen Museum of Art, Boston College, from 4 September 2011 to 11 December, then will move to the Yale Centre for British Art from 2 February 2012 to 27 May. Why do I mention this? Well amongst the many fascinating gems on display, is one of the most important and famous portraits of Mary (by Hans Eworth):





So make sure you see it!

Thursday, 21 July 2011

Review of Doran and Freeman (eds.), Mary Tudor: Old and New Perspectives

Oh, I have waited for this book for so long!...


Susan Doran and Thomas Freeman (eds.), Mary Tudor: Old and New Perspectives (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2011), 345pp. £15.99.






In the wake of an revival of interest in Mary Tudor, namely in her personal history and the religious policies of her reign, it is refreshing to have a study that steps back and reconsiders the foundations of the belief that Mary’s life and reign were abject failures. Readers of this blog do not need to be told that Mary has long been considered a disappointment – worse still, as a tyrannical or hysterical queen whose rule was marked by indefensible cruelty. Biographies of Mary briefly discuss the origins of this reputation but there has not been a full study into the history of Mary’s posthumous reputation and the changing nature of scholarship on her.


Fortunately ten historians have addressed this gap and produced one of the most important studies on Mary in recent years. This volume consists of a series of articles and an introduction, all original, nearly all controversial. Which naturally makes this book an impressive and exciting read!


The scope of topics is varied. The book is divided into two sections, with the first examining the reputation of Mary and her reign after her death, and the second offering new examinations into aspects of her life and rule ‘which were distorted by centuries of myth and misrepresentation’ (p. 15). Mary’s religious policies are naturally a hot topic but it is by no means the singular issue. Her education, relationships, and her ability to govern independently and decisively, along with that pressing and often neglected issue of Mary’s role as England’s first crowned queen regnant, are all considered with fresh new perspectives offered.


The book starts with a bold claim that sets the tone perfectly for the volume. The reader is told that had Mary the fortune of living longer – let’s say another decade – ‘almost certainly, England would be Catholic and probably Scotland as well, since the Scottish Protestants would not have had the crucial backing from England that they received at the beginning of Elizabeth’s reign’ (p. 1). Susan Doran and Thomas Freeman even undermine the argument that Elizabeth I’s accession was a sure thing, saying that had Mary lived longer providing time for Mary, Queen of Scots to be widowed and back in Scotland, there was the possibility of the young Scottish queen having the chance to claim the succession, or even Lord Darnley, the son of Mary I’s favourite, Margaret Douglas. Fortunately this book is not a series of ‘what ifs’ that are useful in reiterating the success of Mary’s policies up till her death and even longer had she lived on but can prove tedious, if not futile, arguments. The contributors are all concerned in placing matters in the context they occurred to prove Mary’s accomplishments and make a case for how unjustifiable this poor image of herself and her reign is.


The first article is by Doran and appropriately examines the perception of Mary through the eyes of Elizabethan Protestants. Doran indicates how Mary was perceived in a rather complex way by these Protestant writers; clearly there was no standard view of her. They may have all agreed in the ‘absurdity’ and sacrilegious nature of her religious views and policies, but quite a few conceded that she was an amiable figure, if not weak willed and thus no tyrant. Consequently others, namely Mary’s bishops, were selected as scapegoats for the persecutions of that reign. There were of course exceptions to this – as the work of John Foxe clearly illustrates – but Doran makes the excellent point that in the late sixteenth-century Mary was not perceived as the ‘bloody’ queen we are so familiar with. We can thank developments in the seventeenth-century for that (a time when, Freeman notes in another article, the term ‘Bloody Mary’ was used repeatedly and thus popularised). Doran also refers to the often lack of references to Mary in Elizabethan works, attributing this to a conscientious desire by some writers to focus their narratives on the Marian martyrs. By ignoring Mary they were denying her the glory and fame that was seen as the rightful properties of those she had persecuted.


Victor Houliston continues the focus on the Elizabethan period, albeit he is concerned with Elizabethan Catholics and their perceptions of Mary. He examines the usual suspects – prominent Catholic polemists like Allen, Persons and Sanders – many of whom naturally felt an affinity to Mary’s reign and were keen to preserve her reputation as a godly, charitable and virtuous woman. A particular point I found interesting is reference to some Elizabethan Catholics being uncomfortable with the policies of Mary’s reign, namely the burnings. Houliston mentions that Sanders, writing in the 1560s, argued that some fellow Catholics assumed an ‘air of pity’ and condemned the persecutions (p. 43). Houliston’s end point, that there existed an ‘icon’ of Mary who ‘reflected the glory of Catholic Europe’ is certainly one to consider though I came away from the article intrigued by Catholic disapproval in Mary than her status as an exemplary figure. Though maybe any disdain for Mary was worn away by the persecutions that Catholics themselves faced throughout Elizabeth’s reign. Critical comments dating to the 1560s could easily be transformed after decades of hardship prompting nostalgia for Mary’s ‘Catholic England’.


Paulina Kewes and Teresa Grant’s respective articles both consider contemporary political developments and their effect on the reputation of Mary. Kewes examines the legacy of the 1553 succession crisis during Elizabeth’s reign when the absence of an acknowledged heir led not only to speculation and intrigue about who should succeed Elizabeth, but even to notions that the next sovereign should be appointed, ‘elected’, by the elite. The memory of Mary was a powerful tool to use here. Though those who advanced the idea of an elected monarch did not want to say that Edward VI’s own appointment of Lady Jane Grey was a good thing, for that would have greatly offended Elizabeth as it had done Mary, they did use the example of Mary’s reign as reason enough not to have another Catholic monarch. And given that the Catholic Mary, Queen of Scots was practically Elizabeth’s heir in all but name for many years, it is easy to see why Protestant polemists would drag up the example of Mary Tudor to advance their argument that they should have some say in the appointment of the next king or queen.


Grant meanwhile looks at the slightly later years – the rule of the Stuarts – where the memory of Mary was equally important. Anti-Spanish feeling was rife at certain periods especially post Gunpowder Plot (1605). This naturally led to criticisms of Mary, characterised as subservient to Spain and to her husband, Philip. But Grant also identified attacks on Mary’s personality as well. In the early seventeenth-century play, Sir Thomas Wyatt, she is depicted as materialistic (linking, of course, to the then prevailing stereotype of Catholicism as a worldly faith marred by avarice), as well as being insincere. She is first presented to the audience as like a ‘nun’, steadfast in her faith, only to swiftly agree to marriage and adopting a fixation with her frequently absent husband. She was by now seen as a woman who lacked judgment and sought poor counsel.


The theme of Mary as a woman who was unprepared to act independently, and when she did she failed miserably, is one which has widely been supported in works on Mary till present day (as we are reminded on several occasions in this book). One of the most controversial issues relating to this is Mary’s involvement, or more accurately her responsibility, in the notorious burnings of the Protestants. Here two of the contributors of this volume disagree. In his article on the Marian persecutions, Thomas Freeman’s argues for Mary’s zealous backing of the policy, noting her ‘acute interest in and oversight of the burnings’ (p. 172). This is at odds with Judith Richard’s article which seeks to stress the involvement of local authorities in the process of trying heretics. Richards does not deny Mary’s support for the policy but her insistence on the role of others in the effort conflicts with the rest of her article. Firstly her claim is not backed with nearly enough evidence as Freeman backs his own with. Secondly, Richard’s article principally concerns Mary’s abilities as queen, her thorough grounding of the law, and her often astute, if not reasonable, way of handling situations. It is clear that local authorities played a role – no one could claim Mary was alone in enforcing and defending the policy – but her support for the decision and even her interventions in the process are documented more than once. Arguably Richards’ view is inconsistent – maybe too favourable? But she does raise several other excellent points, not least that the perception that Mary’s actions were controlled by her ‘hysteria’ is an absurd, prejudicial view, with little historical basis. Worrying, this grossly outdated view is still being voiced. Richards observed that only recently the Wikipedia page for Mary presented as fact that her probable phantom pregnancies and the alleged trauma or ‘hysteria’ that such an event procured, was the reason for Mary’s persecutions of the Protestants!


Mary’s role in the affairs of her reign is also discussed in the late William Wizeman’s article on the religious policies of her reign. In many respects the article is an excellent summary of recent works into the vitality and successes of the Marian Church, not least the Eamon Duffy’s impressive Fires of Faith. Wizeman also advances the argument he has made previously – that Mary’s church was not an insular establishment, but important to consider in context of the ‘Counter Reformation’ sweeping Europe. He provides ample examples of Mary’s England being a breeding ground for Catholic talents, many of whom would later emerge as significant figures of the ‘Counter Reformation’. Unlike Duffy who ascribes Cardinal Pole as the leading figure of Mary’s church, Wizeman recognises Mary’s initiative and believes she was self-consciously presenting herself as a ‘chief model of the faithful and devout layperson’ (p. 167). This is an appealing point. As Mary shunned the headship of the church and acknowledged papal supremacy, her role as that of the exemplary follower instead makes a lot of sense. One thing that Wizeman leaves open for others to examine further is whether Mary was involved in ‘self-fashioning’. I found this fascinating not least because it is something I touched upon in my MA work in regards to the way in which Mary presented herself prior to her succession. Certainly it would be too cynical to say that every act of charity and good deed was committed by Mary consciously to cultivate a specific image, but like many contemporary monarchs and especially Elizabeth I later, she was deeply concerned with her image and of the need to encourage support for herself and her policies.


Mary’s education has frequently been ignored or touched upon lightly in biographies, but two articles in this volume seek to address the prevailing crude notion that Mary was, in the words of Geoffrey Elton, ‘rather stupid’. Andrew Taylor’s assessment of the young Mary’s education and knowledge of humanist texts is admittedly stifled by the lack of evidence we have on this in the years before the collapse of her parents’ marriage. Yet both Taylor and Aysha Pollnitz make the comparison between Mary and her great grandmother Margaret Beaufort, a patroness of renowned learning. The influence Katherine of Aragon had on her daughter has long been recognised and is backed by Taylor and Pollintz, but the impact of Beaufort (dead before Mary’s birth) is a new and intriguing one. It was Margaret, Pollintz argues, who set a standard for subsequent aristocratic women in devotional habits and patronage of scholars and colleges. Mary was the true heir of this legacy. Pollintz uses as example of this Mary’s involvement in the translation of Erasmus’ Paraphrase on John, encouraged by stepmother Katherine Parr, then at the centre of a remarkable scholarly circle of court women. The uncompleted translation proved Mary’s competence as translator along with her ability to exploit her position as a royal female to help advance the ‘enstruccion and edifynge of whole realms in the knowleage of god’, a view strongly felt by Parr (p. 132). Pollintz shows it was a belief that Mary continued to take very seriously as queen.


What though of the pitfalls, if any, of this book? The articles largely focus on Mary’s posthumous reputation in text throughout the centuries, including some fascinating discussions on presentations of her in children’s textbook from the nineteenth-century onwards. But there is no exploration of the way in which she was portrayed through images. It should be remembered that significant developments in the production of prints, especially in techniques in the late seventeenth-century and throughout the eighteenth century, led to the mass production of cheap prints of images. There began a roaring trade of prints of prominent persons, including past English monarchs and other royals. Countless images of Mary were produced for popular consummation and not all were mere copies of contemporary portraits of her. Portraits of her prints started to introduce references to the burnings; she became immortalised as ‘Bloody Mary’, her name forever linked to the most scandalous aspect of her reign. Along with portraiture, perhaps we should also address Mary’s reputation in film and TV, which reaches large audiences and frequently affects popular perceptions of her more so than academic studies, as well as her appearance in historical fiction.


That said there is little to complain about this book. It is undoubtedly an important text in our understanding of Mary and her reign and draws attention to areas where there is so much potential for further research (particularly the question of gender and Mary I, as Thomas Betteridge notes in his article). In the appendix is provided a thorough list of the Marian martyrs (with plenty of footnotes; always a good sign!) Will this book make much of an impact? I sincerely hope so and, given the names involved in this book, the relatively low price of it, and the original nature of its focus, it will attract attention. But can we ever put aside longstanding anxieties about Mary’s reign that have plagued accounts of it? As Freeman notes, Mary ‘has continually been judged by the standards of the eighteenth, nineteenth and twentieth centuries, and not surprising, has been found wanting’ (p. 100). The authors are correct that is about time we form our own understanding, but it is a difficult process, unsettling for some, that perhaps is not as easy as Freeman’s allegory to the art restorer ‘carefully removing the layers of overpainting to reveal as much as possible of the original portrait that lies beneath’. The question of course – can we ever find the real Mary?

Thursday, 12 May 2011

New Mary biography




Finally Yale University Press’s English Monarchs Series has included Mary! The upcoming biography on the queen had been written by Dr John Edwards, Modern Languages Faculty Research Fellow in Spanish, University of Oxford, and is due out in August/Sept. Edwards has written extensively on early modern Spain, Catholicism and Mary’s grandparents, the famous Catholic monarchs Isabella I of Castile and Ferdinand II of Aragon. He was one of the editors of Reforming Catholicism in the England of Mary Tudor: The Achievements of Friar Bartolomé Carranza (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2005) – a must read for Mary enthusiasts.


The synopsis:

‘The lifestory of Mary I—daughter of Henry VIII and his Spanish wife, Catherine of Aragon—is often distilled to a few dramatic episodes: her victory over the attempted coup by Lady Jane Grey, the imprisonment of her half-sister Elizabeth, the bloody burning of Protestants, her short marriage to Philip of Spain. This original and deeply researched biography paints a far more detailed portrait of Mary and offers a fresh understanding of her religious faith and policies as well as her historical significance in England and beyond.

John Edwards, a leading scholar of English and Spanish history, is the first to make full use of Continental archives in this context, especially Spanish ones, to demonstrate how Mary's culture, Catholic faith, and politics were thoroughly Spanish. Edwards begins with Mary's origins, follows her as she battles her increasingly erratic father, and focuses particular attention on her notorious religious policies, some of which went horribly wrong from her point of view. The book concludes with a consideration of Mary's five-year reign and the frustrations that plagued her final years. Childless, ill, deserted by her husband, Mary died in the full knowledge that her Protestant half-sister Elizabeth would undo her religious work and, without acknowledging her sister, would reap the benefits of Mary's achievements in government.’



I have a feeling it will rank alongside Loades, Mary Tudor: A Life and Richards, Mary Tudor. I want it!