One More Time: Mary I of England

On this anniversary of Mary I's coronation as Queen Regnant of England in 1553, another attempt to bring some balance to our appraisal of her life and reign, this time from Anna Whitelock in the pages of the BBC History Magazine in the Christmas 2014 issue:

Having secured the throne, Mary then had to establish herself as a female monarch. It was an unprecedented position in a deeply patriarchal society – indeed, many questioned whether a woman could wear the crown. The monarch was understood to be God’s representative on Earth, a figure of defence and justice – a role premised on military might. The language, image and expectations of English monarchy and royal majesty were unequivocally male, and the rights of a queen regnant were a matter of great uncertainty.

Mary’s accession had changed the rules of the game, and the nature of this new feminised politics was yet to be defined, yet in many respects Mary proved more than equal to the task. Decisions over the details of the practice and power of a queen regnant became precedents for the future. In April 1554 Mary’s parliament passed the Act for Regal Power, which enshrined in law that queens held power as “fully, wholly and absolutely” as their male predecessors, thereby establishing the gender-free authority of the crown.

Mary’s coronation saw her accepting the full regalia of a male monarch and assuming the sacral role that had hitherto been confined to kings. Previously, it had been precisely the exercise of this semi-priestly power, derived from the coronation, that – it was argued – precluded women from acceding to the throne. By continuing practices undertaken by previous kings – providing the healing touch for the ‘king’s evil’ (scrofula) and blessing rings believed to cure cramp and epilepsy – Mary showed that the office of crowned monarch was not limited by gender.

Mary had stated a preference for remaining single but accepted the need to marry to fulfil her public duty to her faith and her kingdom. Everyone agreed on the need for a husband who could guide her in ruling, and produce a male heir, thereby securing the succession. Though it has traditionally been argued that Mary’s marriage to Philip of Spain was unpopular, an alliance with Habsburg Spain was politically expedient. Certainly, the marriage treaty was as “favourable as possible for the interest and security and even the grandeur of England”, with Mary’s legal rights as queen preserved and Spanish influence kept to a minimum.

Read the rest there. The article was surely based upon Whitelock's 2010 book about Mary, which I reviewed here in 2011.

Why We Study History

Anna Whitelock writes for the BBC History Magazine:

Has there ever been a better or more important time to study history? The past is alive, dynamic, controversial and hugely relevant. History is constantly being written and rewritten, contested and reinterpreted. History is more than simply looking backwards and studying the past – it is also about critically engaging with the present and the future. It is about individuals, families, nations and the global community.

A history degree is not just for those who want to be professional historians – it is for anyone who is curious about the world around them and who wants to be a critically engaged citizen. It is, in fact, one of the most versatile subjects you can choose to study. Facts and dates are merely the basic building blocks. Historical study teaches us to think critically, analytically and creatively, to read and interpret all kinds of information, to evaluate opinions and to write persuasively. . . .

The study of history is so much more than learning about kings, queens and governments; it is also about societies all across the world and how people have lived over the centuries. It is about justice and injustice, innovation and continuity, freedom and repression. It is about race and religion, ideas and beliefs, about travel, exploration and discovery, about medicine, sex and death, about architecture and art, literature and music. It is, in short, about life. To be a historian is to be questioning, to have a vivid imagination and an insatiable curiosity.

In publishing and in broadcasting, history is a phenomenon that continues to exceed expectations; television shows, films, books, plays and computer games attest to the huge public appetite for all things historical.

She then discusses the challenges of digital communication and social media. Read the rest here.

A Tudor Biographer Reviewing Another Tudor Biographer's Book

Linda Porter and Anna Whitelock wrote biographies of Mary I, Henry VIII and Katherine of Aragon's daughter and first Queen Regnant of England. Now, in the current issue of the Literary Review: Porter reviews Whitelock's new book about Elizabeth's Bedfellows: An Intimate History of the Queen's Court:

What Whitelock gives us is a new account of Elizabeth's reign, seen largely from the queen's personal perspective. It is a memorable portrait, though not one that unquestioning admirers of the Virgin Queen may find palatable. The Elizabeth who emerges from these pages is a thoroughly unpleasant woman when stripped of her undoubted statecraft. She was endlessly demanding, vacillating, self-absorbed, vain and occasionally capable of cruelty rivalling that of her father, Henry VIII. Her treatment of the women of her household does not make pleasant reading. To enter her service was, effectively, to give up your own life in order to dance attendance and cater to her every whim. Most of her women were married, but their own lives and families were always subordinated to the needs of the queen. If they became pregnant, they remained at court until shortly before their babies were due and were seldom allowed to stay away for more than a month after the birth. Ladies who married secretly or became pregnant out of wedlock felt, like poor Katherine Grey, the full force of the monarch's wrath. Their treatment grew worse with the passing years, as age withered the toothless and bald queen, despite the best efforts of her ladies to present her to the world as the red-headed vision of perfection she had been in her twenties. Even her memory began to play tricks with her after the Earl of Essex's execution. Sic transit Gloriana.

Of course, Elizabeth was not ultimately the brute her father had been. Acknowledgement of her devoted women's sufferings may often have been belated, but she could be tender and concerned for their recovery. The deaths of Kat Ashley and Blanche Parry, who had been with her since infancy, struck her hard. And Whitelock provides some nice details that allow us to see a more human side of Elizabeth. She was afraid of the dark and suffered from insomnia. Mornings were not her best time, but the whole process of dressing her and making her up provided her ladies with an intimacy simply not afforded to her male councillors. These women really did know everything about her bodily functions, dealing with such things as the lengths of linen used as sanitary towels and the special belt that held them in place. That such accessories existed at all appears to give the lie to the suspicion that Elizabeth never menstruated. It was not a topic her women would ever have talked of openly, and they, like Elizabeth, took such secrets with them to the grave.

It was this proximity to the queen and the unrivalled access it brought, rather than any financial reward, that made what to us seems like a life of self-sacrifice so attractive to high-born ladies. But did intimacy truly carry influence? Elizabeth actually reduced the size of the Privy Chamber when she became queen and made it very clear that her women were not to interfere in politics or have any political role. This did not stop everyone, from their husbands and suitors to foreign ambassadors, courting them, in the hope that they would be a means of gaining the queen's favour. The advancement of one's own family was everything in 16th-century England and the women of her bedchamber, who shared her life and slept beside her, forfeited much in pursuit of this wider goal. As Anna Whitelock notes, Mary Sidney left the court feeling aggrieved and neglected. She lost her looks and three small daughters when in Elizabeth's service, at the same trying to manage the family estates at Penshurst Place in Kent while her husband served the Crown in Wales and Ireland. It was a high price to pay for being one of Elizabeth's bedfellows.

Linda Porter's next book, Crown of Thistles: The Fatal Inheritance of Mary Queen of Scots will be in print in August--will Anna Whitelock review it?