The Virgin Queen's Paradox - An Iron Hand in a Velvet Glove by Madeleine Hale
The Identity of an Icon
To sum up the reign of Queen Elizabeth Tudor in a single phrase, one may say it was defined by ‘masculine strategy and feminine discontent’ – a paradoxical duality that shaped her rule and spat in the face of Tudor societal expectations. Under the rule of her father Henry VIII (whose name carries the reputation of a womanizing brute) Tudor women, regardless of societal status, were expected to be subservient, discreet and obedient – a far cry from the disposition of King Henry’s youngest daughter Elizabeth, and arguably her mother, Henry’s second wife Anne Boleyn. Under Elizabeth’s reign, England’s culture flourished: the defeat of the Spanish Armada, the consolidation of Protestantism and the encouraged expansion of the arts, poetry, theatre and music all contributed to this period coining the name ‘The Golden Age.’ But in a bygone era where women were seen as a mere shadow of their male counterparts, how did she do it? Central to all of the achievements obtained throughout her time as Queen, Elizabeth’s dual identity; one which combined masculine strength and authority with the mystifying, feminine image of Gloriana, the virgin queen, allowed her to bypass the prejudice of aberrational female rulers and navigate the treacherous and scandal-ridden landscape of Tudor politics. Elizabeth never faltered in the projection of her most uncouth masculine traits – emphasizing authority, pragmatism and military leadership – whilst simultaneously cultivating an ultra-feminine, almost divinely seraphic persona which inspired cultural patronage, undying loyalty and great admiration from her subjects. This duality not only enabled her to secure imperishable power, but also created an enduring and unwavering image of unity and national pride. Her unparalleled ability to harmoniously consolidate both versions of herself into one sacred entity has led her to become one of history’s most revered and iconic monarchs.
Top Image: 'The Darnley Portrait' - Unknown Artist. Depicting a young Queen Elizabeth I, this portrait is the source of 'the mask of youth' - a depiction of Elizabeth's face which would be used as a reference for all other official paintings for years to come.
A Court of Men and the Cult of Gloriana
At the mere age of 2 years and 8 months, Elizabeth’s mother was executed, and Elizabeth’s subsequent upbringing was largely influenced by her father and her academic tutor – Roger Ascham. Ascham was present for merely two years of Elizabeth’s education, from 1548 to 1550, but in that short time was able to teach her not only the classical languages of Latin and Greek, but also philosophy, theology, and history. Despite only being present in her education for a short time, the impact Ascham left on the young Elizabeth has been well documented. Elizabeth formed an exceedingly close attachment to her tutor, even being reported to have said "I would rather have cast ten thousand pounds into the sea than lost my Ascham". With regard to her father, the infamous King Henry VIII, notorious are the stories of his disappointment relating to his lack of a male heir – a disappointment so raw it led him to behead two of his wives, one being Elizabeth’s own mother. Undeterred by this, Elizabeth reportedly idolised her father - with Giovanni Michiel (the Venetian ambassador to England during Mary I’s reign) reporting that ‘She prides herself on her father and glories in him’. Throughout her life, she continuously referred to him as her ‘dearest father’, even attempting to emulate his style of monarchistic governance during her own reign. However, her father did not feel remotely the same regarding his second child, even going as far as to declare her illegitimate. She was only able to return to the line of succession under the king’s Third Succession Act in 1543 – the same year she spent her summer at Hampton Court, watching Henry’s sixth and final wife Katherine Parr exercise her full power in her husband’s absence, presiding over the court independently. This would inspire a determination and independence like no other in the young Lady Elizabeth. From the very beginning of her reign in 1558, Elizabeth Tudor, now Queen Elizabeth 1st, made it explicitly clear to her court that she would not be ruled or governed by the expectations of her gender. In a society that solely viewed women as weak and subordinate, her ability to project masculine authority like that of her father was crucial in securing the power and control she desperately needed and wanted over her courtiers. This is best exemplified in her famous Tilbury speech in 1588, delivered during a time of a suspected imminent Spanish invasion, in which she stated: “I know I have the body of a weak and feeble woman; but I have the heart and stomach of a king, and of a king of England too, and think foul scorn that Parma or Spain, or any prince of Europe, should dare to invade the borders of my realm: to which rather than any dishonour shall grow by me, I myself will take up arms, I myself will be your general, judge and rewarder of every one of your virtues in the field.” This declaration, reportedly made whilst wearing plate armour and on the back of a white horse, was an immensely unfeminine act, yet hugely celebrated for centuries to come. Here, Elizabeth had shown her true nature – and whilst it could be argued that this was merely a rhetorical flourish, the ferocity of her power at court alludes that this was a deliberate assertion of her capacity to lead as a sovereign equal in power and rigor as any man. Elizabeth was deeply involved in any and all military affairs during her reign, with this involvement further consolidating her image as a ruler who transcended what it meant to be a queen. During the preparations for the Armada, she personally oversaw naval strategies (being the excellent strategist she was) and much to Principal Secretary Francis Walsingham’s dismay, micromanaged all military expenditures to ensure her forces were as prepared as they could possibly be. Her presence at Tilbury symbolised her willingness to face the dangers and threats toward her country just the same as her soldiers – an act traditionally reserved for male monarchs. By having so much involvement in the affairs of her military, Elizabeth challenged contemporary perceptions of female rulers as passive and incapable of military leadership. Being an excellent strategist also had its advantages in the turbulence of Tudor Politics. Her political acumen led her to have complete control over her court, whilst manipulating the ambitions of her male advisors to suit her needs and wants. She shared a variety of relationships with her key advisors such as Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester, and William Cecil, later Lord Burghley, using the closeness these relationships provided to her advantage in the court setting. Elizabeth was a cunning, sly fox, who’s ability to balance personal relationships with political pragmatism enabled her to get exactly what she wanted out of her court, almost without fail. Whilst Robert Dudley was a trusted confidant and rumoured romantic interest to the Queen, Elizabeth never allowed their bond to compromise her authority over her subjects. Similarly, she relied on the council of William Cecil, yet always maintained ultimate control over her policies through manipulation and gratification. Arguably one of the most effective political tools employed by Elizabeth was her use of marriage (or lack thereof) as a diplomatic strategy. Throughout the duration of her reign, she flirtatiously entertained proposals from foreign princes such as King Philip II of Spain as well as those from domestic suitors – dangling the carrot of the prospect of marriage in front of their faces, simply to gain leverage in political negotiations. Elizabeth was a master at this craft. For example, her flirtation with the Duke of Anjou, a French Catholic, even helped to stabilise relations with France during a period of religious and political turbulence and tension. Despite these continual amorous games, Elizabeth staunchly refused to marry, tormented by the knowledge that doing so would jeopardize her autonomy and subject her to the authority of a male counterpart – something which she could never sacrifice her rule for. Having seen her ill-fated sister Mary’s marriage to Philip II of Spain alienate many of her subjects, Elizabeth refused to align herself too closely with any foreign powers or religious factions. By remaining single, Elizabeth was not only able to retain the innate masculinity which granted her full control of her kingdom, but also position herself as a truly unique figure: a virgin sovereign, married only to her realm. Parallel to the projected masculine traits in governance, Elizabeth simultaneously and precisely crafted a feminine persona that embodied purity, grace and divine favour. Central to this persona (which consequently became her public image) was the myth of the Virgin Queen – painting her as an absolute, semi-divine figure chosen by God to rule England. Remaining unmarried and childless was the ultimate strategy, Elizabeth herself becoming a symbol of national unity, embodying the idea that her ‘virginity’ was a metaphor for her one true love, the country which she ruled over. There were a variety of ways in which Elizabeth helped paint herself as the ‘virgin queen’. The most noticeable and prominent way she affirmed this status was the fashion she clothed herself in. As seen in almost all portraits of the queen, Elizabeth was never without her elaborate garments and full face of makeup – with rich fabrics such as silk, satin and velvet luxuriously adorned in jewels, embroidery and other surface details, it was clear that she reflected her status in the way she dressed. She notoriously had a penchant for including symbolism for power and control in her garments, most famous the rose and crown to affirm her legitimacy as a rightful heir to the Tudor throne. As seen in the ‘Rainbow Portrait’, a delicate beaded snake can be seen embroidered on to her left sleeve at the forefront of the image – symbolising wisdom and control, as well as a plethora of pearl necklaces, symbolising the Greek goddess Cynthia (a known virgin) and therefore Elizabeth’s purity and chastity. A common detail in almost all of Elizabeth’s royal portraits is the inclusion of powerful symbolism on an otherwise excessively effeminate gown – a true marker of her paradoxical personality. To further perpetuate her feminine image, Elizabeth had a now iconic style of makeup she almost always wore. The thick white face makeup, called Venetian Ceruse (a lead and vinegar concoction) which Elizabeth wore was not only to cover the smallpox scars incurred in a bout of the illness in 1562, but to make her appear as pale as possible, representing her as the most youthful and socially elevated woman in the country. However, Elizabeth took this one step further, adding more and more features to her makeup even to the detriment of her own health. She used egg whites and red dye painted on her cheeks to achieve an innocent, flushed look, coloured her lips red with mercuric sulphide to make her appear more alluring, brightened her eyes with drops of belladonna extract, and painted false veins on to her skin to make it appear almost transparent and ethereal. The women of the time continuously attempted to replicate the look of the Gloriana, many fatally harming themselves in the process. The Cult of Gloriana, as it came to be known, was perpetuated through art, literature and public ceremonies – all of which flourished thanks to prominent figures such as William Shakespeare. An epic poem by Edmun Spencer (1590) titled ‘The Faerie Queene’ portrayed Ellizabeth as a symbolic heroine, combining her real achievements with mythology and symbolism - similarly to the aforementioned portraits of Elizabeth such as the ‘Armada Portrait’ which showcased an Elizabeth with ageless beauty and regal demeanour, posing triumphantly yet nonchalant against a backdrop depicting a defeated Spanish fleet. This carefully constructed image of Elizabeth as an almost otherworldly figure served both cultural and political purposes, with loyalty and devotion presented in vast amounts from court members and the general public alike. This image of a Gloriana eventually became Elizabeth through and through, extending to her interactions with subjects who she affectionately dubbed her ‘children’. Despite being an unmarried and forever childless queen, Elizabeth strived to emphasise her maternal role in serving her country, famously being pictured wearing a brooch of a pelican to symbolise this – as mother pelicans were believed to pluck the feathers from their very own breasts, so the young could feed upon their blood to survive. She also wanted to extend this imagery to the people of her kingdom, often embarking on royal progresses to connect with citizens. During these visits, Elizabeth would graciously accept gifts, listen to petitions and engage in celebrations or ceremonies that emphasised her benevolence. An excellent example of such an event was her visit to Kenilworth Castle in 1575, where the ever-favourite courtier Robert Dudley staged an elaborate celebration in the Queen’s honour – including pageants, fireworks and musical performances all in tribute to portraying Elizabeth as a goddess-like figure – creating a perfect blend of political loyalty and cultural admiration. Thanks to these public displays, Elizabeth was able to cultivate an image of grace and femininity which both contrasted and complemented her masculine authority in governance. This not only allowed her to maintain her hard-earned respect and affection, but also ensured the loyalty of her subjects even during periods of political and economic difficulty.
'The Rainbow Portrait' - Attributed to Attributed to Marcus Gheeraerts the Younger or Isaac Oliver. One of the most strikingly famous portraits of Elizabeth, this portrait is littered with symbolic imagery. From the ears and eyes embroidered in to her dress, to the delicate beaded snake on her arm, this portrait is a comprehensive look in to the intricacies of Elizabeth's personality and imagery.
The Paradox at Hand
Regardless of her skilful navigation of this dichotomy, Elizabeth’s reign and consequently her identity was not without its challenges. Critics and occasionally courtiers would weaponize her status as a single woman to question her legitimacy as queen, and her lack of desire to produce an heir created an air of anxiety in the courts and across the country as to the future of the Tudor dynasty. Testament to her strength and impeccable skill with words, Elizabeth was able to consistently address these criticisms without undermining her authority. When parliament tightened the vice on Elizabeth, pressuring her to marry, she retorted their demands with firmness and wit, famously proclaiming that she was ‘already bound unto a husband, which is the Kingdom of England’. By perverting the perception of her single status from a vision of failure to a vision of devotion to her realm, Elizabeth was able to manipulate a potential weakness into a source of enormous strength, power and influence. Truly the first of her kind, Elizabeth’s reign had a profound impact on the public’s perception of female leadership and rule. Her ability to embody both her masculine and feminine traits without sacrificing either, she was able to transcend traditional gender roles and expectations, paving the way for future Queens such as Anne and Victoria to assert their authority in a similar manner. As seen in the ‘Armada Portrait’, Elizabeth is posed one hand on a globe as if to conquer, pointing to Virginia – named in her likeness. In the other hand, she holds a delicate ostrich-feather fan, a symbol of her divine femininity and grace. These two simple details showcase the dichotomy of her personality in the most simplistic yet effective manner. The cultural impact and legacy of Queen Elizabeth I’s paradoxical identity continues to resonate, with her reign inspiring a goldmine of art, literature and historical analysis, much of which continues to explore the complexities of her dual identity. Simultaneously, her reign reflects on a broader scope of Renaissance anxieties surrounding the relationship between gender and power. The unnatural tensions between her masculine and feminine roles mirrors the cultural and social contradictions of her era – an era in which women were expected to give up all masculine traits in pursuit of the ideal feminine beauty portrayed in art and literature of the time. The reign of Elizabeth brilliantly conveys the sheer power of adaptability, and the strategic use of both her public and private identity. Her legacy as the powerful and ruthless ‘Virgin Queen’, simultaneously both an iron hand and a velvet glove, stands testament to the impact she had on the perception of women in power – a timeless example of how strength and grace can coexist in the face of adversity.
'The Ermine Portrait' - William Segar. Arguably one of the most elaborate and extravagant depictions of Elizabeth, the Queen is depicted with an Ermine (wearing a crown as a collar!) climbing up her arm, to represent her purity and royalty. Unlike other portraits and rather unusually, Elizabeth is depicted in a black and gold dress to symbolise the constancy of her reign. Little did she know, she would go down in history as one of the most complex monarchs in England's history, and the impact of her reign is very much still felt today.
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