Uncovering Elizabeth: Exploring the Queen's Body and Virginity Through Her Portraits by Cait Murphy-Hurrell

History’s reflection of Elizabeth I (henceforth referred to as Elizabeth or the Queen) is that she was a strong woman and a successful queen during a period when such terms were contradictory. Elizabeth’s reign evolved from depictions of her as a blooming virgin ready for marriage to an immortal empress of Britain. This transformation is vividly captured in her portraits, where visual culture and art were integral to authority and power, representing virtues like order and proportion that rulers were expected to embody. Elizabeth’s portraits increasingly portrayed her as the "second or true Virgin," intertwining religious and political notions of virginity with her monarchical image. By analysing Elizabeth’s portraits, a narrative of a female monarch who had to conform to idealised notions of ‘womanhood’ to balance the role of a woman subject to a sexualised male gaze with the female body of a monarch and God’s representative on earth emerges. While her international achievements—such as the defeat of the Spanish Armada in 1588—cemented her reputation, her failure to secure the succession of England’s throne underscored anxieties around her gender. The study of Elizabeth’s portraits has been shaped by scholars like Roy Strong, Helen Hackett, and Kevin Sharpe, who examine their iconography, psychoanalysis, and national-cultural implications. Strong, for example, viewed Elizabeth's portraits as part of a richly semiotic system where visual arts, literature, and ceremonial practices were interwoven to construct Elizabeth’s image. Hackett extended Strong’s work by highlighting the public’s role in projecting their anxieties and desires onto Elizabeth’s representations, while Sharpe emphasised Elizabeth’s conscious engagement with her public image ('Elizabeth expressed both her especial place as the rightful heir and God’s chosen handmaid and her certainty of the love of her people for a queen who promised that none would care for them more'). Expanding on Strong’s semiotic approach by linking the symbolic elements of Elizabeth’s portraits to feminist theories of art history, Catherine McCormack, in Women in the Picture, identifies archetypes like the "virginal maid" and the "obedient mother" as central to depictions of women, emphasising the pervasive influence of the male gaze where, 'A woman “has to survey everything she is and everything she does because of how she appears to others, and ultimately how she appears to men, is of crucial important for what is normally thought of as the success of her life”'. McCormack’s framework sheds light on how Elizabeth’s image was crafted by male artists for male viewers. Strong and Hackett have analysed the sexualised portrayal of Elizabeth’s virginity, but their focus often omits the performative aspects of this narrative. McCormack’s insights inspire a broader analysis, suggesting that Elizabeth’s image as a virgin queen and nurturing mother was both a necessity for her role as a female monarch and a strategy for legitimising her authority. Elizabeth’s authority, like that of the Virgin Mary, reconciled the dual identities of a sacred ruler and a mortal woman. Sharpe observes that monarchs embody both the timeless institution of rulership and the human vulnerabilities of love, death, and triumph. Two key aspects of Elizabeth’s portraits merit deeper analysis: her depiction as a divinely chosen virgin and her role as a maternal figure caring for her subjects. These themes, intertwined with sexuality, dominate her visual narrative. Drawing from Michel Foucault’s History of Sexuality, this analysis centres on sexuality as a lens to explore power, intimacy, and the body. McCormack’s distinction between the "virginal maid" and the "obedient mother" provides a framework for understanding Elizabeth’s portraits as performances that negotiated her femininity within a patriarchal society. It is important to distinguish that McCormack notes that a woman’s highest cultural expression has been as a passive sex object, not as herself. This has limited what women have been able to achieve in a patriarchal society that cannot separate women’s value and worth from the very fixed idea of their sexuality. The recurring theme of sexuality, specifically virginity, in Elizabeth’s portraits, supersedes any other analysis throughout the queen’s reign and even long afterwards. Strong, Guy, Hackett, and Sharpe all begin discussing Elizabeth’s portraits with this notion of her being represented as the virginal maid in her earlier reign, the blooming virgin looking to be married, and then the Virgin Empress, akin to the motherly Virgin Mary. Elizabeth’s virginity seems to be the focus of the value she brings, both in her earlier reign as a marriageable asset and in her later reign as an eternally virgin Queen. Two significant examples illustrate this: the ‘Sieve’ or ‘Siena’ portrait by Quentin Metsys the Younger and the ‘Armada’ portrait. Both portraits have different versions of each other, and even their authorship is questioned however, the focus of this analysis will be on the allegorical and emblematic references which contribute to the ideas of Elizabeth as the virgin queen and imperial ruler. By analysing Elizabeth’s representations in her portraits, a redefined narrative of her bodily image is put forward, one where sexuality forms a necessary part of occupying the body of a female monarch and one of which Elizabeth was fully aware.

Succession was always a question within the monarchy, but in establishing Elizabeth’s authority and rule as a woman, her sexuality had to be brought to the forefront. As such, the ‘Sieve’ portrait is a manifestation of this narrative, her imperial power in the background, with the sieve – an image of her chastity in the foreground. The sieve is filled with water, an allusion to the Roman Vestal Virgin, Tuccia, who carried the water-filled sieve without spilling the water, proving her chastity, celebrated in Petrarch's Triumph of Chastity. The sieve in the foreground of the painting is held in the Queen’s left hand. Monarchs use the left hand to hold the Sovereign Orb during coronation – a representation of Christianity and that the monarchy’s power is derived from God. It can be interpreted, therefore, that Elizabeth’s monarchical power seems to derive, rather than from the orb, from her sexuality and her virginity in this portrait, as her left hand holds the sieve. Flanking Elizabeth on both sides are objects representing imperial power – the imperial column to the right and the globe to the left. The imperial column depicts the scene of Dido and Aeneas, an allegorical allusion to Elizabeth founding the British Empire, just as Aeneas founded the Roman Empire, but to achieve this, like Aeneas, she must resist sexual urges. The terrestrial globe on the Queen’s other side is lighted on the British Isles, highlighting the empire that the Queen rules. With these imperialistic images placed in the middle of the vertical lines on each side of the Queen, it is questionable why this portrait and its others are referred to as the ‘sieve’ portraits and why the Queen should need to prove her chastity. By analysing Elizabeth’s dress and the semiotics of the items she wears, it becomes evident that the focus of the representation is the power she holds is based on her virginity rather than empire. A horizontal line drawn between the imperial column and the globe intersects the Queen’s breasts, where pearls are strung deliberately over her right breast. The eye is then drawn down following the pearls to the ‘V’ of Elizabeth’s busk-point of her dress and then a further ‘V’ towards the sieve. The focus on Elizabeth’s dress reveals a focus on her sexuality that is more overt than the imperialistic elements present in the background of her portraits. Sarah Bendall looks at clothing of the 15th and 16th centuries and identifies that the centre-front of bodices that contain busks reached to the lady’s ‘Honour’. The placement of the pearls and the bejewelled busk point of the dress focuses the eye on Elizabeth’s female figure. The recurring ‘V’ pattern in this portrait serves to bring Elizabeth’s virginity into stark consideration. Against the black of her dress, signifying constancy, and the white of her draped sleeves, symbolising virginity, these elements convey a carefully constructed visual narrative. The use of pearls, while displaying aspects of wealth, also is a symbol of femineity and female sexuality as the pearl is found in the shell and mirrors the image of a mother bearing a child. The presence of the pearls, therefore, might symbolise Elizabeth as a mother whose children are the wealth and splendour of the British Empire. As such, even Elizabeth’s dress and decoration seem to portray Elizabeth as an object of sexuality through the busk point, pearls, and the choice of colours. Even in a quarter-century of reign, her sexuality remains the focus of the narrative. If the ‘sieve’ portraits were purported as a show of imperialist power in opposition to a possible marriage match, as Strong suggests, there is much more iconography that directs the viewer towards Elizabeth as the virgin and chaste woman. One can easily turn to the male gaze as a reason for such a sexually focused narrative, and to a great degree, this argument would stand, but an alternative view is that Elizabeth promoted such a narrative of herself. Elizabeth was aware of the challenges that lay before her as a Queen when she ascended the throne, as Sharpe identified that Elizabeth’s experience with the reigns of her father, brother, and sister taught her the importance of articulating an image of the virgin queen for public support. By reconciling sexuality and desire with a female body, particularly when the body is that of the monarch - a queen becomes more acceptable within the male gaze. It seems evident then that Elizabeth herself cultivates these perceptions of her as a god-chosen, virgin maid who cares for her subjects as a mother would, and that narrative is reflected in her portraits too. The motherly theme is reflected in the placement of the pearls, which seem to draw a parallel to a mother’s breastfeeding. Elizabeth appears to have understood the difficulties of aligning the body politic of the monarch with that of a female body and thus optimised her performance as a virtuous, motherly image, akin to the Virgin Mary, as opposed to the male monarchs as the ‘father’ of the nation. During her analysis of the Virgin Mary and motherly figures, McCormack states that there is evidence of preferred female virtues of meekness, obedience, and chastity, ‘and reinforced and rationalised the containment of woman in private, domestic life as their natural place, while men dominated the public and professional sphere.’ In Sharpe’s analysis of her performance as a Queen, Elizabeth seemed to encompass many of these preferred female virtues, specifically in keeping an ordered and magnificent court and such a narrative is presented in the ‘Armada’ portrait.

There are parallels between the ‘Armada’ portrait and the previously discussed ‘Sieve’ portrait, namely, imperialistic images are present in the portrait's background. The sending of ships into the advancing Spanish fleet is present on the left, and the Spanish’s subsequent defeat and shipwreck on the Scottish coast on the right. Furthermore, the terrestrial globe is brought to the forefront with the royal crown above it. These images of conquests and the British Empire are clear. The painting is exceedingly ornate due to the magnificence of Elizabeth’s dress. Mirroring the colour palette of the ‘Sieve’ portrait, Elizabeth is portrayed wearing a black dress with ornate white sleeves and her dress. Specifically, her bodice and sleeves are adorned with numerous decorative pearls, bows, and jewels. She has an especially elaborate busk-point covered with a singular pendant with a dropped pearl and a bowed ribbon that is different from the other bows on her dress. As Bendall states, ribbons were gifts commonly given in courtship. The significance of receiving a busk point is highlighted by Thomas Tomkins’s Lingua (1607), when the character Phantastes exclaims, ‘The Gordian knot which Alexander great, / Did whilom [in the past] cut with his all conquering sword: / Was nothing like thy Busk-point pretty Peate.” The ribbon at the busk-point of Elizabeth’s dress, ornate with jewels and rich fabric, portrays the narrative of Elizabeth remaining a Virgin maid, but she is bound to the British Empire. The ribbon could be a reference to the courtship performance of the Queen promised to the Crown, and such a statement would have been a reassuring gesture to the Court, particularly since this ‘marriage’ had led to the defeat of the Spanish. The increased number of pearls on the queen’s dress would further this notion of the Queen as a mother of the Empire, with the pearls emulating expansion, both in trade and in motherly love for the British Empire. As Bendall states, ‘Early modern royal courts were theatrical spaces with complex rules of courtesy and precedence’. The Queen would have always been on display in her court and would have been conscious of the narrative that she portrays, and her performance of that narrative is imperative. As such, the ornate image of Elizabeth’s dress reflects the importance of this display as a part of her performance as a motherly woman and a monarch. It is evident from the ‘Armada’ portrait how such magnificence was translated into her dress. Despite Elizabeth sitting in a chair in the ‘Armada’ portrait, her upper body remains positioned in a straight and upright manner. Bendall identifies that elite ideals dictate that female bodies should be erect and physically restrained to protect the proud virtues of the ruling class. Stiff collared neckwear and voluminous sleeves like the ones worn by the Queen in the ‘Armada’ portrait forced the wearer to sit upright and restrict movement significantly, ‘[forcing] the wearer to adopt a graceful but imposing stance.’ This was indicative of feminine beauty ideals: ‘The bodies of royal women were therefore usually made from luxurious fabrics and stiffened with whalebones to maintain a constant appearance of magnificence.’ Elizabeth’s grandeur and stance in the ‘Armada’ portrait, therefore, exudes idealised feminine ideals but also exhibits how she became an example to follow, not only in displays of her wealth and magnificence but also in her character and actions. The accounts that Sharpe has collected of Elizabeth strike remarkably close to the narrative of the compliant wife or mother. Sharpe seems to infer that Elizabeth’s cordiality as a Queen is the basis for her success as a monarch, and to some extent, yes, it is, but the narrative of the pleasing, cordial woman displaying magnificence in her Court is an image of the angelic mother of the house which McCormack identified. She performs the role of the motherly figure, her humanity distinct to be perceived well or loved. Again, Elizabeth’s performance is reverted to her sexuality. While her authority was exemplified in her chastity in the ‘Sieve’ portraits, her majesty and influence in the ‘Armada’ portraits are derived from her displays of magnificence but magnificence that is deliberately feminine. Elizabeth’s dressed body envelops the foreground of the painting, and Elizabeth’s body ‘makes a body statement about the power of England and its ruling elite over the invading Spanish forces.’ As mentioned, it also creates an example for her courtiers to adopt. Excessive magnificence in dress is often adopted by the courtiers of Elizabeth’s court, and in emulating her, courtiers flatter her, which forms a part of what Sharpe calls ‘chivalric love’. Similarly to the ‘Sieve’ portraits, Elizabeth adopts this narrative that is displayed in her portraits and supports it with her performance of magnificence while balancing those attributes of femininity and motherly nature to reconcile a female body with a monarchical figure. While further work on applying a re-imagined narrative of feminine sexuality is required, particularly to artworks and literary representations where women are the subject, this analysis aims to initiate such work by providing an alternative narrative of Elizabeth’s sexuality as a source of her power, and a means of ensuring her success as a monarch. It is necessary to acknowledge that such reanalysis of portraits is important since, as McCormack says, the ideas of sexuality ‘persist in our contemporary culture, shaping our ideas of not only beauty and taste but also national identity political authority, sexuality and our deepest fears and expectations about what it means to be human.’ By maintaining the view that Queen Elizabeth I, one of the most influential monarchs of the British Empire, is viewed based merely on her sexuality in her portraits, we are limiting the influence that these portraits could have on fine art, and cultural images becomes part of our shared visual language.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR - 

Cait Murphy-Hurrell is a passionate academic, YouTuber, and book collector with a deep love for literature and the humanities. Currently, Cait is pursuing her own academic aspirations as a Master’s student in Literature and Arts at the prestigious University of Oxford. As she completes her dream program, Cait is fielding PhD applications to continue her work in the iconic Early Modern text, The Faerie Queene. Cait shares her journey back into academia through her YouTube channel, where she offers insights on navigating graduate life, academic success, and her personal experiences in higher education. Working full-time as a Legal Compliance professional with over a decade of experience, Cait additionally focuses her talents on helping others achieve their academic dreams as a co-owner of Accepted Society. A lifelong bibliophile, Cait’s love for all things book-related—including reading, book collecting, and the history of books—fuels her academic pursuits and connects her with a community of fellow literature enthusiasts.