Herstory and the Explosion of Interest in England's Ruling Women

In recent years, there has been an explosion of interest in the lives of England's medieval and early modern queens. Popular historians in particular have become fascinated by the extraordinary lives of these women. The majority of attention has focused on the late Middle Ages and the Tudor era. Countless books are published every year detailing the lives of these magnetic, captivating women. 

What is to account for these trends? What makes one woman particularly fascinating to biographers, at any point in time? Where does the desire to recover her history - 'herstory', as it has been termed - come from? Why are we so fascinated by these women, and why are readers lapping up biographies of medieval queens like there's no tomorrow?

The simple answer is because their lives are interesting in and of themselves. The more complex answer is because their lives were forgotten for centuries, swept away as if they had never existed. These women, even queens, were confined to the footnotes of history, dismissed in a sentence and remembered only if they contributed to their husband's achievements. If they were not forgotten, they were misrepresented. They were slandered, their names dragged through the mud. Consider the infamous tale of Eleanor of Aquitaine, in a fit of jealous rage, murdering her beautiful rival Rosamund Clifford by poison. Or the story of Elizabeth Wydeville and her mother greedily extorting their rights to queen's gold. Or the legend of Isabella of Angouleme living in open adultery with her lovers, causing her vicious husband King John to brutally murder them in revolting fashion.

If these women were not condemned, they were sanctified in hagiographical works. They were celebrated as passive beings who caused no trouble, satisfying the whims of their husbands and living quietly and gently. Jane Seymour was idealised as a pious, motherly wife who provided Henry VIII with his heart's desire. Anne of Bohemia is remembered only for her gracious acts of intercession. For centuries, Katherine of Aragon was viewed as nothing short of a saint, the very embodiment of virtuous womanhood. 

In more recent times, we as historians have become aware of how simplistic and misleading these characterisations are. We recognise that these women were complex beings; they were human. They were neither saints nor sinners, neither whores nor angels. We seek to uncover their stories respectfully, admiring  their achievements, celebrating their lives and respecting their decisions. In short, historians are taking advantage of developments in the study of history to present these women more truthfully than ever before. 

As a biographer of Katherine Howard, with a keen interest in the lives of medieval and early modern women, I eagerly await new studies. Having spent a number of years researching Katherine (and I continue to hope to devote more time to her life), I anticipate with pleasure upcoming biographies of her by Gareth Russell and Josephine Wilkinson. Katherine was, for centuries, the most neglected of Henry VIII's queens. Historians were not particularly interested in her. Lacey Baldwin Smith's biography of Katherine, published in 1961, remained the standard work for decades. There have since been only three published biographies of Katherine: Joanna Denny's of 2005; David Loades' of 2012; and my own. 

I am not sure why historians are suddenly interested in Katherine. Perhaps they are more aware than ever of how inadequate most of the studies about her have been. Perhaps, in the light of the rehabilitation of Anne Boleyn's reputation, and the publication of impressive studies detailing the considerable achievements of Katherine of Aragon and Katherine Parr, it has been acknowledged that Katherine Howard deserves to be better known and celebrated for her own achievements. New found interest in her is surely to be welcomed. 

Yet other women deserve the attention of historians, for they remain forgotten. If they are remembered, it is mostly negatively. Isabella of Angouleme, Isabella of France, and Margaret of Anjou are three powerful, well known women who continue to be misrepresented and slandered,  their lives distorted. Jacquetta of Luxembourg, mother of Queen Elizabeth Wydeville, was an acknowledged woman in her own lifetime, and yet there has been no biography of her. Philippa of Hainault, Joan of Navarre and Catherine de Valois are queens of England that have still not acquired biographies in their own right. There has been exceptionally little attention given to Isabel Neville, elder sister of Queen Anne. Nor has there been for other highborn women in England who were not queens of England, but were nonetheless important. Alice Perrers, Katherine Swynford and Elizabeth Shore are women who deserve to be re-examined.

The expansion of 'herstories' is an immensely positive achievement. Let us hope the field continues to expand and develop. We need to learn more about these incredible women. We should endeavour to reinterpret their lives and re-examine the myths about them. Celebrating their achievements and respecting their experiences is essential to uncovering the full story of English history.

Christine de Pizan: A Remarkable Woman

The fourteenth-century was, in many respects, a century of remarkable women. Christine de Pizan was one of them, and her name continues to resonate today with connotations of learning, chivalry and courtliness. Born in 1365, Christine was a French Renaissance writer who, some have argued, wrote some of the first feminist works of literature, although it seems somewhat anachronistic to label them as such. Christine was remarkably educated and this allowed her to write, becoming what King's College termed 'the first woman in Europe to successfully make a living through writing'.

Born in Italy in 1365, Christine later departed for France at a young age when her father, Thomas de Pizan, was appointed to the position of astrologer to the French king at that time, Charles V. This atmosphere allowed his daughter to pursue her intellectual interests, for Thomas clearly believed that his daughter should enjoy a fine education. At the age of fifteen, in 1380 Christine married Etienne du Castel, a royal secretary at court, with whom she had three children (a daughter, a son, and another child who tragically died in childhood). In 1390, her husband sadly died in an epidemic, meaning that, on his death, Christine had to support her mother, her niece, and two small children. As a means of supporting herself and her family, she devoted herself to writing. By 1393 she had attracted attention for her love ballads, and between 1399 and 1412 she is said to have composed over three hundred ballads, as well as many shorter poems.


Above: Christine de Pizan presents her book to the queen of France, Isabeau of Bavaria.

In 1401-2, Christine participated in a literary debate that allowed her to move beyond the courtly circles she had up to that moment moved in. Following this, she became involved in a renowned literary controversy known as the 'Querelle du Roman de la Rose', which she helped to instigate by calling into question the literary merits of Jean de Meun's Romance of the Rose, a medieval French poem that satirised and entertained about the Art of Love. Its focus on sensual language and imagery caused particular controversy, leading to individuals, including Christine, to question it. She, in particular, condemned its suggestion that women were little more than seducers. Christine began to counter and oppose literary treatments of women that were negative or even abusive.

Christine was, and remains, best known for her vernacular works, both in prose and in verse. These include political treatises and mirrors for princes, which consequently brought her a great deal of attention from the very highest orders. Her most famous literary works, The Book of the City of Ladies (in which she created a symbolic city in which women are both appreciated and defended) and The Treasure of the City of Ladies, were both published in 1405. They both offered positive representations of women, stressing how to cultivate useful feminine qualities and celebrating women's past contributions to society. Christine emphasised that women should seek to bring about peace between people, while arguing that slanderous speech eroded one's honour. Christine also later wrote a poem eulogising the tragic Joan of Arc, burned at the stake at the age of nineteen. She died in 1430 aged sixty-five or sixty-six.


Above: A scene from The Book of the City of Ladies (1405).

Christine de Pizan was not a medieval feminist. However, she was remarkable in that, as Simone de Beauvoir wrote in 1949, her work was 'the first time we see a woman take up her pen in defence of her sex'. Historians have debated whether this period saw a 'golden age' for women that was tantalisingly brief but which afforded women splendid opportunities not experienced before. While this remains uncertain, Christine de Pizan's astonishing life demonstrates the opportunities for women of the upper orders in particular, who, mobilised by their education and status, could achieve incredible feats.

The Empress Matilda: England's First 'She-Wolf'?

Above: Empress Matilda could, perhaps, have been England's first queen regnant.

Medieval England experienced some spectacular rulers, both male and female. This was an age, in particular, of extraordinary and resourceful women: consider Eleanor of Aquitaine, queen of Henry II, who continued shaping government policy, escorting brides across Europe, and leading armies well into her seventies. Isabella of France, wife of Edward II, launched an invasion against her ineffectual husband alongside her lover, deposed the king, and was possibly involved in his later murder. Then there was Margaret of Anjou, who courageously took hold of the reins of government when her saintly if unassuming husband Henry VI fell into madness, and took a spirited and energetic role of leadership in the conflict known as the Wars of the Roses, so vividly depicted in the works of Shakespeare. Elizabeth Woodville was another courageous and strong-willed queen who fought for the Yorkist inheritance during the Wars of the Roses and was every bit as formidable as her adversary Margaret. All of these women have, to differing degrees, been remembered as 'she-wolves': powerful, determined women who seized the reins of power seen as correctly belonging to their husbands, defying contemporary expectations of females as weak, gentle and submissive beings.

But none of these women, with the exception, perhaps, of Margaret, has endured so negative a reputation as that of the Empress Matilda, daughter and heir of Henry I of England, and 'Lady of England'. Indeed, this spirited and determined woman could have, had circumstances gone her way, been England's first queen regnant, rather than the teenaged Lady Jane Grey enjoying that honour over four hundred years later, in 1553. Contemporary chroniclers and modern historians alike have remembered Matilda as a feisty, 'haughty' and arrogant woman who alienated her followers and provoked loathing in the citizens of London when she attempted to claim the crown she viewed as rightfully hers following her father's death. Yet, as historian Helen Castor compellingly suggests, such negative characterisations of Matilda 'were never used to describe any male member of her fearsomely domineering family; and they do not fit well with what we know of Matilda in the decades before and after that brief moment in 1141'. So who, then, was this fascinating and complex woman, a daughter, mother and wife of kings, who fought tenaciously but ill-fatedly to become the first queen regnant of England in the twelfth century?

 
Above: Twelfth-century portrayal of the wedding feast of Matilda and her first husband, Emperor Heinrich V of Germany.

Matilda was born in February 1102 at Sutton Courtenay in Oxfordshire as the eldest child, to Henry I, king of England and duke of Normandy, and his pious, beautiful wife Matilda of Scotland. Later, a son was born, William Adelin, who died in 1120 aged seventeen in a tragic incident involving the White Ship. Her brother's premature end was to have momentous consequences for Matilda's subsequent career. Her father also had twenty-two illegitimate children by other women. In 1108/9, when Matilda was around six years old, the German emperor sued for her hand in marriage, an attractive prospect to King Henry because it would bolster the prestige of the crown as well as strengthening England's links with the most preeminent European power. In a sense, it was the most successful marriage he could have achieved for his young daughter. Aged only eight years old, Matilda left England for Germany in February 1110.

The couple met at Liege before voyaging to Utrecht in the Netherlands where they were formally betrothed in April 1110. Three months later, Matilda was crowned Queen of the Romans at Mainz, and became known thereafter as the 'Empress Matilda', a lavish and supremely regal title and position that represented a considerable achievement for an eight-year old girl. Although she was some sixteen years younger than her twenty-four year old husband, it was to prove a successful and prosperous marriage. Matilda was educated in the customs, manners and culture of her new domains. In 1114, she was actually married to her husband, for twelve was the minimum age at which a female could marry. 

Matilda was widely praised in these years, with no hint of the later abuse and hostility that would be directed toward her by her future English subjects. An anonymous chronicler at the German court described his Empress thus: 'a girl of noble character', 'distinguished and beautiful, who was held to bring glory and honour to both the Roman Empire and the English realm'. Orderic Vitalis tells us that Emperor Heinrich loved his new wife dearly, and so graceful, gentle and dignified in her queenly duties would Matilda be that her German subjects immortalised her as 'the good Matilda'. In these early years, she was hardly the 'she-wolf' later disparaged by hostile chroniclers. 

It cannot be doubted that Matilda was both a dedicated wife and a successful queen. In 1118-9, for example, she sat in judgement at a court at Castrocaro near Ravenna, over the competing claims between a bishop and an abbey from Forli and Faenza over a local church. The Empress eventually decided in favour of the abbey. Shortly afterwards, Matilda's younger brother and heir to the English throne, William, died in the White Ship tragedy in November 1120. At eighteen years old, Matilda was now her father's heir.


Above: A fourteenth-century presentation of the White Ship disaster in the winter of 1120.

While Matilda's marriage to the Emperor was in many ways a success, she failed to fulfil the vital requirement of her position by bearing her husband sons. Why no children were born to the royal couple remains something of a mystery. Neither were considered by contemporaries to be infertile, although it has been speculated that those at the time believed that the Emperor's sins against the Church were to account for the couple's childlessness. Heinrich eventually died of cancer in 1125, leaving his wife, still only twenty-three years of age, a widow. Matilda was now transformed into the most glittering of prizes, heiress as she was to the crown of England. Although Matilda was later besieged with offers of marriage from numerous German princes, she refused all of them, before departing for her homeland, England.

In the meantime, Matilda's father Henry I had remarried, following the death of the revered Matilda of Scotland in 1118. His new bride was Adeliza of Louvain, a year younger than her new stepdaughter the Empress. However, the royal couple did not have any children; meaning that, theoretically, Matilda remained her father's heir and successor to the English crown. If she succeeded, she would be England's first queen regnant. Henry formally acknowledged his daughter's unique position. At Christmas 1126, he ordered his barons to publicly recognise his daughter as heir to the throne, which they did the following January. 


Above: A man Matilda did not wish to marry: her second husband, Geoffrey of Anjou.

Although Henry I was, apparently, determined that his daughter Matilda should become England's next ruler in the wake of his death, this did not prevent him seeking a new husband for his twenty-five year old heir. In order to secure the southern borders of Normandy, he eventually arranged for her to marry the teenaged Geoffrey of Anjou, son and heir of Count Foulques. Nicknamed le Bel ('the Fair'), Matilda's prospective spouse was gorgeous, beautifully costumed and only fifteen years old. His face was said to glow 'like the flower of a lily, with rosy flush'. Despite his elegant charm and striking appearance, Matilda was decidedly unimpressed. This strong-willed, energetic and intelligent woman was not to be swayed by mere good looks and charm, and may have found the idea of a younger husband distinctly unappealing. Certainly, her reaction suggests this. Matilda was proud, and believed that marrying the son of a mere count served to diminish, even disparage, her status. The Archbishop of Tours, Hildebert, admonished her in letters and begged her to forgo her disobedience. Eventually, she reluctantly and unhappily agreed. So began a turbulent marriage.

Further difficulties were caused when Matilda's dowry was disputed. It was not specified when she would be able to inhabit the castles granted her in Normandy. It is perhaps instructive that soon after her marriage, the Empress returned to Normandy. In 1131, after a separation, the couple were finally reconciled, and if it had not been earlier, the marriage was consummated. Matilda proved a fertile bride (after her childless years with Emperor Heinrich); bearing her second husband three sons: Henry (who later became Henry II of England); Geoffrey (later Count of Nantes), and William (later Count of Poitou).


Above: A twelfth-century image of Matilda's eldest son, Henry, and his wife Eleanor of Aquitaine, as king and queen of England.

Everything changed in December 1135 when the king of England died. Matilda, now thirty-three, was set to become England's first female ruler, by virtue of her position as Henry's legal heir. Yet there had been difficulties in the previous years. She had experienced strained relations with her father, who perhaps feared her husband's desire to acquire more power in Normandy. Controversy surrounds Henry's plans for the succession on his deathbed. Sources favourable to the Empress confirmed that Henry reaffirmed his intent that she should succeed him, but hostile texts alleged that he had retracted his promise and had apologised to his barons for forcing them unwillingly to swear an oath of allegiance to his daughter.

Matilda's position gravely weakened her cause even before it had begun, for she was residing in Anjou with her husband when news reached her that her father had died. Matilda was by now pregnant for the third time, and it has been credibly suggested that her condition could have prevented her returning to England considerably sooner than she did. Stephen of Blois, Matilda's cousin, reacted in exactly the opposite manner. Dwelling in Boulogne, the count immediately left for England, determined to claim the crown. He had been close to the dead king, and it has been argued that his sex and proximity made him a more appealing monarch than his female cousin, who was not even in the country. On 26 December 1135, Stephen was crowned King of England. He had taken his opportunities, whereas Matilda had not.


Above: Stephen of Blois, king of England.

In July 1136, Matilda delivered her third son, William, at Argentan. How she reacted with news of Stephen's accession is unknown, but she must have been shocked and appalled, at the very least. She may have beseeched the Bishop of Angers to garner support for her claim to the throne with the Pope but if she did, the Bishop was unsuccessful in doing so. Disputes and conflict continued in Normandy between the English king and Matilda, although a truce was later agreed between Stephen and Geoffrey.

Matilda's cause was immeasurably strengthened when her half-brother, Robert of Gloucester, decided to support her, promising her forces. In 1138, he had rebelled against the English king, thus instigating a civil war that was set to last for years. Geoffrey of Anjou took advantage of unrest and rebellion in England by reinvading Normandy. At the same time, King David of Scotland invaded the north of England, and promised support to the Empress simultaneously. Although Stephen travelled both north and west to quell disorder, and to some extent was successful in doing so, Matilda invaded in the summer of 1139, determined to attain the throne she believed was rightfully hers. So began what historians term 'the Anarchy'.

The former queen and stepmother to Matilda, Adeliza, in some ways instigated the rebellion by inviting her stepdaughter to land at Arundel Castle, on the south coast. In September, Matilda arrived with Robert with a force of 140 knights, and Matilda promptly departed for Arundel Castle while Robert headed northwest to Wallingford and Bristol, where he met Miles of Gloucester, the Constable of England who now supported the Empress. Stephen besieged the castle, trapping Matilda inside. Later, she was released, for unknown reasons.

Helen Castor has suggested that Matilda's sex strengthened her cause in that Stephen refused to face her in battle. The next few years saw protracted truces, armed rebellions, and heavy conflict, most notably the Battle of Lincoln in February 1141 which saw the defeat of King Stephen. He was later taken into custody by Robert of Gloucester. Matilda faced him triumphantly in person and incarcerated him in Bristol Castle. She then took steps to crown herself Queen of England, until now having been known as the 'Lady of England'. Stephen's brother and former enemy of the Empress, Bishop Henry, now renounced his support for his brother and defected to Matilda's side, in exchange for her promise that she would allow him control over Church affairs. 

In Winchester at Easter 1141, Matilda was declared 'Lady of England and Normandy' by the assembled clergy, in what seems to have been a precursor to her coronation as queen regnant. The Empress then headed to London, but her position quickly became notably precarious. Forces loyal to Stephen and his wife remained close, and the citizens were visibly fearful about letting Matilda into the city. On 24 June, the city rose up against her. Matilda fled to Oxford just in the nick of time.

Most historians have suggested that it was Matilda's 'haughty', 'arrogant' temperament that so alienated the Londoners, that accounts for her ultimate failure to seize the crown. Henry of Huntingdon wrote that 'she was lifted up into an insufferable arrogance' and 'she alienated the hearts of almost everyone'. Yet, Helen Castor offers a more credible explanation of Matilda's difficulties given the uniqueness of her position and the difficulties she faced:

The truth of the matter was that Matilda found herself trapped. She urgently needed to show that she was a credible ruler... But when she sought to emulate her formidable father and her first husband, the two great kings whose rule she knew best, she encountered not awestruck obedience, but resentment of a 'haughtiness and insolence' that was deemed unnatural and unfeminine.

In a sense, then, it was Matilda's sex rather than necessarily her personal qualities which defeated her and rendered her unacceptable to her subjects. A female ruler was simply not an attractive prospect for the English. Like later queens Isabella of France and Margaret of Anjou, when Matilda tried to take the initiative and proactively shape policy, she was condemned and vilified for being 'manly', unfeminine, cruel, avaricious, arrogant and disdainful - all qualities viewed as the exact opposite of what a woman should be.


Above: Matilda's eldest son, Henry II of England.

Because of this, Matilda never did become queen of England. Her initiative and determined attempts to take the crown were ultimately unsuccessful, in no small part influenced by the deaths of her most notable supporters, including Robert of Gloucester, in the late 1140s. However, her ambition was realised when Stephen accepted her eldest son, Henry, as his successor. He had taken a leading role in the later years of the civil war, reaching England in 1142 from the continent, before returning to Anjou two years later. The English Church supported Henry's claims to the English throne, as did Stephen's nobles and Louis VII of France, for the nobles were weary and disillusioned after years of bloody civil war, disorder and unrest. They wanted peace, and this was promised in the figure of the charismatic, resourceful and determined Henry. 

Matilda lived to see Henry's succession and supported him energetically and faithfully, often acting as her son's representative in Normandy, where she now resided, and presiding over the Duchy's government. Like her daughter-in-law Eleanor of Aquitaine, Matilda remained fully involved well into old age. She was later involved in attempts at mediation between the king and the Archbishop of Canterbury, Thomas Becket. Matilda became increasingly pious during her later years, although one chronicler of Mont St. Jacques described her in her old age as 'of the stock of tyrants'. On 10 September 1167, aged sixty-five, the former Empress and 'Lady of England' died, and she was buried at the abbey of Bec-Hellouin under the high altar. Her tomb's epitaph included the lines: 'Great by birth, greater by marriage, greatest in her offspring: here lies Matilda, the daughter, wife, and mother of Henry'. Clearly, as were all women during this period in a patriarchal world, Matilda's life was remembered according to the role she had played in the lives of her male relatives. She was remembered for being a daughter, mother, and wife, rather than for being herself.

Or so it seemed. Most commentators, beginning in her lifetime and extending well into the present day, have instead focused on her apparently haughty, arrogant, even tyrannical nature, which supposedly doomed her attempts to take the crown of England and become its first ruling queen regnant. Yet scholars such as Helen Castor and Fiona Tolhurst have convincingly drawn attention to the fact that Matilda was criticised and disparaged for qualities that were revered and admired in men but found shocking and unacceptable in women: bravery, resourcefulness, determination, courage, ambition and drive. Had Matilda been a man, she would have been admired and celebrated, but her status as a woman condemned her as an 'unnatural' and 'unfeminine' virago who caused misery, discord and conflict in England, alienating all who met her. It is time for her reputation to be amended. She was ultimately extremely successful, not in becoming the first queen regnant of England in her own right, but by ensuring that, by virtue of who she was, her son Henry would become England's king following the death of her great rival and cousin, Stephen.


Above: Matilda.

"Asking For It": Women, Sexual Violence and Masculinity in South Africa

South Africa has been termed 'the rape capital of the world'. Outside of countries engaged in war or other conflict, it has the highest rate of rapes worldwide. Statistics reveal that one in every two women will be raped during her lifetime. A rape takes place every 17 seconds. Numerous high-profile cases, such as the brutal rape and murder of the lesbian footballer Eudy Simulane (above, left) have drawn the world's attention to the disturbing phenomenon intersecting in South African societies.

A distinction should perhaps be made between heterosexual women, both white, black and coloured, who suffer rape (whether at the hands of partners, husbands, family members, or strangers); and lesbians who endure corrective rape in an attempt to "make them straight". Either way, rape is often justified on the dangerous grounds that a woman is "asking for it": as noted by Helen Moffett of the University of Cape Town, if she dares to practice freedom of movement (moving around in open spaces), makes eye contact, adopts a confident posture or gait, or speaks out for herself, she is viewed as a dangerous, autonomous being who threatens established gender boundaries and thus deserves to be "disciplined" through sexual violence. Disturbingly, rape is interpreted often as "a socially approved project" to keep women in their place.


Above: LGBT rights activist and lesbian Noxolo Nogwaza was raped, stoned and stabbed to death in KwaThema, Gauteng, South Africa in 2011.

Corrective rape is a frightening phenomenon in its own right in the wider discourse of rape and sexual violence in South Africa. Men rape lesbians out of a desire for these women to become "real women". Famously, Sizakele Sigasa, a women's and gay rights activist, and her friend Salone Massooa were gang-raped, tortured and executed in 2007 - yet no one was ever convicted for these two women's murders. There is a significant paradox here, for South Africa's constitution has long been recognised as one of the most progressive in the world, in promising gender and sexual equality to all citizens. Yet as the prevalence of rape and sexual violence escalates, this can increasingly be viewed as barely more than a fiction.

As Amanda Lock Swarr (2012) argues, lesbians expose the vulnerability of male masculinities, since putatively successful masculinity is viewed as dependant upon men's need to control women and force them to follow gendered conventions of heterosexual conduct. Those who deviate often pay a heavy price for their actions. Political leaders in Africa more generally complicate this, in teaching that homosexuality is not natural, alien to Africa, a perverse import from the degraded West. Of course, the western culture of South Africa somewhat refutes this, but it cannot be denied that religious influences are bound up with prevailing notions of what proper gender roles are and should be.

Scholars, human rights and LGBT activists have repeatedly urged solutions to increasing rape levels in South Africa. But it is difficult to understand what can be done, in a society where entrenched gender ideals and social norms remain powerful and widely held. Perhaps it is right to agree with the arguments of some theorists that rape and sexual violence has escalated because of a 'crisis of masculinity', but whether a broader solution can be found to this unsettling and upsetting turn of events cannot be determined.


Above: "The Rainbow Nation" - the ultimate paradox?

Lady Gaga and the Politics of Burqa

Above: Lady Gaga and the burqa.

The burqa forms extremely controversial attire in Western societies today. Although many Muslim women believe that it is an essential part of their religious and social identity, it has been attacked by critics as being a means of oppressing women within society. In 2011, it was reported that 66% of the British population believe that the burqa should be banned in all public places, while they were banned in France that same year, justifying this decision by saying: 'given the damage it produces on those rules which allow the life in community, ensure the dignity of the person and equality between sexes, this practice, even if it is voluntary, cannot be tolerated in any public place'.

Lady Gaga's song, 'Aura', released from her latest album ARTPOP, thus comes at an unsettling time in terms of burqa identity and gender issues of freedom and oppression. In the words of commentator Alyssa Rosenberg, the lyrics to this song 'are... politically disconcerting'. Concerning the burqa, they are as follows:

'I'm not a wandering slave, I am a woman of choice
My veil is protection for the gorgeousness of my face',

'Do you wanna peak underneath the cover?
Do you wanna see the girl who lives behind the aura, behind the aura?'

'She wears burqa for fashion
It's not a statement as much as just a move of passion'.

Yet, as Carmen Rios scathingly opines, 'instead of exploring the stories of Muslim women who wear burqas because they are... 'women of choice', she instead chooses to celebrate... the burqa by completely missing the actual point in exchange for making the religious garb sexy, edgy, acceptable to a broad audience of racist Islamophobic people'. In other words, Gaga is anti-Muslim through her portrayal of the burqa: 'instead of giving insight into a heritage that already exists, she superimposes her own desires - to be seen as sexual in a specific way - onto women who never asked for it'. A religious and cultural tradition is 'reduced' to 'a sexual ploy'.

One lady from Pakistan took to personally writing to Gaga expressing her disappointment with the track, claiming that the song 'sends the wrong message'. She questioned why Gaga, who had, in her opinion, done so much to empower young girls to love their own bodies, then went on to encourage women to sexualise the clothes that covered said bodies. By inviting men to 'peak underneath the cover', Umema from Pakistan argued that Gaga was arguing that 'if a woman shows signs of refusal, she is just being titillating and playing hard to get; that she secretly wants to be pursued and seduced'. This is dangerous, because it 'perpetuates violence against women'. Burqas are used to 'defy the male gaze', not to invite lust. To claim otherwise, Umema concluded, is 'insensitive and oversimplified'.


On the other hand, Myriam Francois Cerrah, writing for The Independent, completely disagreed with these negative opinions and claimed that 'Aura' actually emancipates Muslim women. Cerrah criticised the fact that Gaga was being condemned for allegedly 'supporting the patriarchy and insulting those women who are forced to wear the garb in question'. The burqa represents different things to different religions and cultures - whether piety, neo-feminism, or something else. Therefore Cerrah applauded Gaga's act of subverting 'the monopoly on meaning typically associated with the face veil as the evil imposition of male domination'. Passive and voiceless women are given a 'confident sexual identity and power', which could account for why the song has produced such shock and controversy: 'How dare a burqa-clad woman also be a confident sexual being?' One Muslim woman went so far to call the song 'amazing and uplifting'.

Alongside her other music and actions, Gaga's latest track 'Aura' has produced significant controversy. Some accuse her of recording it as a relentless money-making, attention-grabbing exercise, while others suggest she genuinely seeks to liberate Muslim women. By and large, responses to the track have been heavily negative. One wrote: 'Lady Gaga has decided to insult Muslims with her new song' after her 'exploitation of the gay community'. Others call her 'fake'. Whether Gaga really cares about the identity and culture of Islam, or whether she seeks merely to grab attention and controversy once more, is difficult to say. One thing's for sure - it's impossible to truly get behind Gaga's 'aura' as she seeks to remain controversial in music.

Feminism and the Wives of Henry VIII?

As I have suggested in my articles thus far on Queen Katherine Howard, one of which will be published in Exeter University's The Historian in March 2013, gender is certainly a useful concept to employ when interpreting the lives of female figures. I was drawn to writing this article after having become reacquainted with Karen Lindsey's entertaining Divorced, Beheaded, Survived: A Feminist Reinterpretation of the Wives of Henry VIII. Lindsey is a feminist scholar, and she is certainly not the first feminist to approach the lives of Henry VIII's queens. Yet how far can gender and feminism be taken in approaching these extraordinary women's lives? This article will see a brief summary of each woman's life and queenship, before considering how gender and feminism can influence our interpretations of them.

Katherine of Aragon (1485-1536), Married June 1509, Marriage annulled May 1533
Queen of England 1509-1533. One child, Mary I (1516-1558) - suffered at least five failures in pregnancy.

Katherine was the youngest daughter of the illustrious couple Ferdinand of Aragon and Isabella of Castile, a formidable queen who allegedly gave birth to Katherine in December 1485 shortly after being involved in warfare against the enemies of the Spaniards, the Moors. Henry VII of England, recognising the power and prestige which the 'Kings of Spain', as Katherine's parents were known, held in Europe, set about achieving an Anglo-Spanish alliance to ensure the security and wellbeing of his nation, while aiming to advance both his lineage and that of his heirs. In view of this, a betrothal was inaugurated between Henry's eldest son, Prince Arthur, and the Infanta Catalina, as Katherine was known in Spain. Numerous delays for the marriage increased the English king's impatience, largely because Katherine's parents appear highly reluctant to let their beloved daughter leave her homeland. Nonetheless, in October 1501 Katherine set sail for England, at the age of fifteen, in order to marry Prince Arthur. She was received at Dogmersfield by the prince and his father in a greeting ceremony typical of the late medieval period, and married Prince Arthur in November in a glorious ceremony at St Paul's Cathedral. Tragically, the prince died in April 1502 from the sweating sickness, while Katherine herself was gravely ill. Whether or not the couple ever consummated the marriage is a matter of fierce dispute, with momentous consequences for Katherine's later future. Most historians, in view of Arthur's physical weaknesses, believe that Katherine remained a virgin, although others such as Joanna Denny insist that it was consummated. 

Katherine was later betrothed to Arthur's younger brother, Prince Henry, but that was later renounced by the prince on the orders of his father. Katherine endured some seven years in considerable neglect before Henry VII's death in 1509 saw his seventeen-year old son, now Henry VIII, deciding to marry the admirable Katherine, aged twenty-three. Katherine was extremely short, with beautiful long red-golden hair and blue eyes. She was known to be deeply religious, but was much loved by the English people for her kindness, composure and generosity. Unfortunately, Katherine's failures in pregnancy eventually led to the loss of her marriage. She suffered no fewer than five failures, resulting in either a miscarriage, a stillbirth, or the death of her child soon after the birth. Tragically, three of these were known to have been sons. One prince, born in 1511, survived for almost two months before his premature death. Nonetheless, Katherine gave birth to a healthy daughter, Princess Mary, in February 1516. By 1519, however, when she was thirty-three, Katherine was no longer able to conceive a child. This led to her husband taking mistresses; his most famous Elizabeth Blount giving birth to a boy, Henry Fitzroy, that year. Mary Boleyn may also have given birth to one or two children by him. 

Feminists usually see Katherine as a much wronged figure, the beloved wife set aside by her unfaithful husband merely because she was ageing and was no longer to bear children. Unsurprisingly, many Englishwomen flocked to her support during the king's annulment of the marriage. From 1527, Henry's desire to marry Anne Boleyn was widely known. Katherine was revered as the rightful Queen and Anne a strumpet. Katherine, nonetheless, fought determinedly and bravely to retain her marriage and to protect the rights of her daughter Mary. She lost, but not without achieving the wholehearted support of her people. Katherine died, alone and neglected, in Kimbolton Castle in January 1536. This occurred in the context of the king sending her to numerous castles, each one more unhealthier than the last. Rumours circulated that she had been poisoned after a black growth was found on her heart, but most modern historians believe that she died of cancer. Typically from the feminist perspective, Lindsey interprets Katherine as a strong, determined woman who was motivated to protect everything she held dear, and was unwavering in her love for Henry, despite his cruel treatment of her. Unwittingly, however, Katherine's resistance ultimately was a decisive cause in the English Reformation and England's later shape.

Anne Boleyn (c.1500x1507-1536), Married January 1533, Marriage annulled May 17, 1536, Beheaded May 19, 1536
Queen of England 1533-1536. One child, Elizabeth I (1533-1603) - suffered two failures in pregnancy.

Undoubtedly the most notorious of Henry VIII's queens, Anne Boleyn's life, more than any other of his wives, is shrouded in mystery and controversy. Even her date of birth remains uncertain. She was the daughter of Sir Thomas Boleyn, an influential diplomat and courtier at Henry's court, and Elizabeth Howard, a member of the most powerful family in the kingdom. In view of this, Anne was of better birth than any of Henry VIII's other English queens. Historians are unsure when she was born, and yet this gravely affects our interpretation of her career. If she was born around 1501, then she was likely the second child of the marriage, with an elder sister Mary and a younger brother George. Yet if she was born later, in the summer of 1507 as other scholars maintain, then she was the youngest child.

Anne was undoubtedly an intelligent, bright child, and in the summer of 1513 her father afforded her the excellent opportunity of serving Margaret of Austria in her court in Burgundy. Anne later transferred to the service of Mary Tudor, queen of France, in 1514, before passing on to serve Queen Claude until 1521. Later contemporaries praised Anne's accomplishments, mainly in music, dancing, fashion, and her love of literature and religion. One wrote that she was more French than English. In 1521, Anne returned home because her father desired her to marry James Butler, a distant relative, in order to solve a dispute between the Boleyn and Butler families about which family had the right to the Ormonde title. This marriage never occurred, however. It is possible that in around 1523 Anne had a brief relationship with Henry Percy, later earl of Northumberland, yet the two were unable to marry because Percy was betrothed to Mary Talbot, and Anne's birth was seen as inferior to his. Not surprisingly, this may have angered Anne. Possibly, she was sent from court in disgrace, yet she had returned some years later.

Henry had briefly enjoyed a relationship with Anne's sister Mary, but in around 1526 he turned his attentions to the younger, and probably more fascinating, sister. She was a charismatic, confident young woman of medium height, with expressive black eyes, pale skin and glorious dark hair, yet was not a conventional beauty. In terms of the king's attentions, Anne, however, was highly reluctant. Lindsey suggests that, in the modern sense of the word, Anne Boleyn was the victim of sexual harassment on a grand scale, which Joanna Denny takes further, even likening Henry VIII to a modern day stalker! What is clear is that he sent her a barrage of letters and gifts, pleading her to become his mistress. However, Anne, who clearly was proud of her lineage, refused, and suggested something more respectable. By June 1527 the king was determined to marry Anne. Unfortunately, the couple waited more than six years due to frustrating delays, prevarications by the Pope, foreign policy - since Katherine was the aunt of the Holy Roman Emperor, most powerful man in Europe - and the king's unwillingness to take an active stand. Anne, not surprisingly, became increasingly frustrated, bewailing that her youth had been lost to no purpose. The couple probably secretly married while abroad in Calais in November 1532, before participating in a more official yet secret ceremony in Whitehall Palace in January, 1533.

Most historians and the general public alike continue to view Anne, probably influenced by 'The Other Boleyn Girl', as a cold-hearted, ruthless woman who instructed Henry VIII to leave his virtuous queen and marry her. Yet it is likely that the exact opposite was true. Anne was reluctant to become involved with the king, seen by the evidence of his letters, and she probably agreed to marry him because she was unlikely to achieve a greater prospect and because it would damage her family's honour if she refused. She was a brilliant, charismatic woman, a charming courtier and yet highly religious, who did much to reshape the English Church. Anne was already pregnant when she was crowned Queen of England in June - the last of Henry's queens to be granted this lavish honour - and she gave birth to Princess Elizabeth in September. While the child's sex was a disappointment, the royal couple were not overly concerned as the queen conceived again shortly afterwards.

Catholics slandered Anne violently, maintaining that she was a witch, a concubine and a poisoner, and the Spanish ambassador, who loathed Anne, suggested that she was maltreating her stepdaughter, Mary. Yet Anne often asked Mary to come to court and serve her, if she would only willingly accept that her mother's marriage was invalid. Mary, stubbornly, refused, and it was only after Anne's death that she saw who the real culprit was for her mistreatment - the king. Anne, meanwhile, suffered concerns of a different nature, when her second pregnancy mysteriously ended in the summer of 1534. No historian is entirely certain of what occurred. If she became pregnant around November, then the child would have been due in August 1534, but it seems that in around July the queen either suffered a miscarriage or a stillbirth. This probably led to a brief separation between king and queen, due to the king's disappointment.

Aside from her fertility concerns, Anne was a strong figure who participated enthusiastically in religious and political affairs. She was highly interested in the reform of the monasteries and churches. Anne was known to be exceptionally glamorous, renowned for her love of fashion and her desire to be portrayed well in portraiture. Somewhat ironically, none of her portraits from life survive, probably all destroyed in the wake of her death. 1535 was a disappointing year, with many troubles from the executions of a bishop to bad harvests being blamed on the queen by the people, who loathed her. Yet Anne was in a strong position at the end of the year, as she was again found to be pregnant. Her position was further secured by the death of Katherine in January. Many opponents of Anne alleged that she had poisoned the late queen, yet there was no evidence of this. While the king celebrated in yellow, Anne apparently wept, fearing that her predecessor's fate would become hers if she did not deliver a healthy son.

The queen, tragically, gave birth to a stillborn son of three months conception in January 1536. One theory is that the child was deformed, an act which horrified the king and convinced him that his wife was a witch, leading him to set in process the annulment of his marriage and her execution. There is, however, no evidence to support this theory. Other contemporaries referred to the son as beautiful. Jane Seymour, whom the king had been flirting with recently, became more of a threat to Anne at this time. Nonetheless, Anne may have remained in a somewhat strong position until April 1536, when shockingly, she suddenly fell from power. No historian is certain of why this happened; Lindsey suggests it was because Henry VIII merely hated her and wanted her dead. Whatever the truth, the queen was arrested with seven men, one her own brother, and was charged with adultery, incest, plotting the king's death, and possibly witchcraft. Five of those men were executed. Two days later, the queen was beheaded at the Tower. Her courage and bravery was referred to by all contemporaries. It is virtually certain that she was innocent, and died in what one historian has termed a terrible miscarriage of justice. Many feminists view Anne as an outspoken woman, ahead of her time, yet victimised by ruthless male figures at court. Perhaps she was, as Lindsey suggests, a victim of sexual harassment, however anachronistic a term for a period 500 years ago.

Jane Seymour (c.1509-1537), Married May 1536, Died October 24, 1537
Queen of England 1536-1537. One child, Edward VI (1537-1553).

Shockingly, the king married his former queen's maid of honour, Jane Seymour, merely eleven days after Queen Anne's execution. Even the English people, who had hated Anne, murmured how strange it was that in the same month that saw Anne 'flourishing, accused, condemned and executed, another was assumed into her place.' Jane Seymour, arguably, is the most mysterious of Henry's queens. Unlike the other five, we know virtually nothing of her personality, thoughts or beliefs; whether she truly believed her former mistress to be guilty, or whether she felt any remorse for it. Readers who have read my last post on Anne Neville may note similarities between these two queens in terms of their opaqueness. 

Probably the eldest daughter of Sir John Seymour and his wife Margery, Jane was born around 1509 in Wiltshire. She had experienced a long, if unremarkable, career at court serving both Katherine of Aragon and Anne Boleyn. She certainly was Anne's maid of honour by Christmas 1533, for she is noted to have received a gift, as other ladies did, from the king. When the king's flirtation with Jane occurred is unclear, probably either in the autumn of 1535 or in the early winter of 1536. Jane, by this time, was about twenty-seven, a considerably advanced age to remain single in the early modern era. Rumours alleged that she had been betrothed to William Dormer, yet nothing had come of the match. The Spanish ambassador, who supported her when Anne fell from power, implied that Jane was neither as innocent or as honourable as many believed her to be.

Jane was no great beauty, as portraits of her show. She was believed to be of middling height, with fair hair, a pale complexion and a quiet temperament. Probably the most unremarkable of Henry's wives, as David Starkey scathingly writes: 'How a woman like Jane Seymour became Queen of England is a mystery. In Tudor terms she came from nowhere and was nothing.' Most historians, such as Jane's biographer Elizabeth Norton, suggest that she actively played a crucial role in Anne Boleyn's downfall. Not surprisingly, Victorian historians castigated her while romanticising Anne.

Jane became Queen at  the end of May 1536, although she was never crowned. She appears to have been an effective consort in terms of managing her household and regulating her affairs, although her queenship lacked the charisma or brilliance of Anne's court, or the intellectual climate and religiosity of Katherine's. The king privately worried in the summer of 1536 that his new consort could not conceive, perhaps a sign that this period saw the beginning of his impotence. Jane graciously welcomed Mary, now twenty, to court, and she also showed some kindness to Elizabeth, although this child was largely neglected in the wake of her mother's death. The one instance where Jane dared to speak up to the king occurred in the autumn of 1536, when rebels rose in the Pilgrimage of Grace. She asked the king to stop the dissolution of the monasteries, but he brutally advised her to remember her predecessor's fate.

Jane became pregnant in January 1537, and in October she at last gave birth to the king's long-awaited son, Edward. Tragically, as England celebrated, the queen fell tragically ill. Her condition worsened until, in the early hours of 24 October, she died from childbed fever, a common killer of women in the early modern period. The king mourned her deeply, as did Lady Mary, who had been close to her. Whether the king really loved her best of all his wives is doubtful. She had provided him with the male heir, but their relationship lacked the passion of the marriage to Anne Boleyn, the king's devotion for Katherine Howard, or his gentle love for Katherine of Aragon. It was perhaps more  alike that of his marriage later to Katherine Parr - affectionate, but not passionate. Feminists interpret Jane as a strong figure who was well aware of what she was doing. That has, however, not prevented Lindsey labelling her 'the vessel'.

Anne of Cleves (1515-1557), Married January 1540, Marriage annulled July 1540
Queen of England 1540. 

Probably the most comical of Henry's queens, Anne of Cleves had a superb lineage as a German noblewoman. After being single for two years, the king desired to marry again in order to produce more male heirs. Not surprisingly, many European ladies trembled at the prospect; the seventeen-year old outspoken Duchess of Milan famously remarking that if she had two heads, one would be at the king's service. Cromwell, the king's minister, convinced him that an alliance with the Protestant German princes would be advisable for England's security, due to increasing hostility from both France and Spain. Henry, recognising this, agreed to marry Anne in order to cement an alliance between England and Cleves.

Anne was twenty-four at this time. She was believed to be gentle, composed, highly intelligent, kind and companionable, traits which would be proven with time, but her physical appearance, famously, was believed to be dubious, while she lacked many queenly skills necessary at the English court, including musical ability and enjoyment of dancing. In the strict Protestant climate of Cleves, these pasttimes were viewed as frivolous and ungodly. Nonetheless, Holbein, the king's painter, painted Anne in 1539, depicting her as delicate and pretty, although it seems likely that he exaggerated her charms. Anne arrived in England in December 1539, when the king, unable to conceal her impatience, decided to greet her formally in Rochester. He was reported to be devastated with his prospective bride. Whether Anne was really unattractive is difficult to fathom. Many modern critics have suggested that her portrait presents her as more attractive than the likes of Jane Seymour and Katherine Parr.

Nonetheless, Anne was a charming woman who quickly became popular with the English people, the French ambassador later remarking that they had never loved a queen more. Unwillingly, Henry married her in a splendid ceremony at Greenwich Palace on 6 January 1540. The new queen seems to have been unaware of her husband's discontent. Testimony confirms that the marriage was never consummated. Probably a reason for this was Henry's mounting worry that, because Anne was believed to have been precontracted to the duke of Lorraine earlier, she was not his wife in reality. Cromwell undoubtedly experienced increasing concern, even panic, as the king audibly voiced his discontent. One can only pity Anne. Lindsey maintains that she was a sensible, courageous woman, bearing her state and her marriage well. Unfortunately, despite her respectable qualities and her good relationships with the king's children, Anne's marriage was annulled in July 1540. The king quickly married her former maid, Katherine Howard, whom Anne appears to have shown no jealousy or unhappiness towards. She quickly settled down into an enjoyable routine in the country, occasionally visiting court and residing at Hever Castle, Anne Boleyn's childhood home. When Katherine was executed  two years later, German envoys enquired if the king might be persuaded to take Anne back as his wife, but both they and she were to be disappointed when the king later married Katherine Parr. Anne died in 1557, during Mary I's reign. Popular with many, she was undoubtedly the most fortunate of Henry's queens.

Katherine Howard (c.1524-1542), Married July 1540, Beheaded February 13, 1542.
Queen of England 1540-1541/2. 

In contrast with her predecessor, Katherine Howard was undoubtedly the most tragic of Henry's consorts. Uncommonly beautiful, charming and kind, this gentlewoman attracted the notice of the king in the early spring of 1540, when his discontent with the Queen was rife. Her family, perhaps sensing an excellent opportunity to further the prestige of their family, probably spurred her on, unaware of her the nature of her childhood. The king married Katherine on 28 July 1540 at the pleasant 'hunting-box' palace, Oatlands in Surrey. He was aged forty-nine and his new queen no older than seventeen. Not surprisingly, the age difference attracted comment.

Katherine showed some kindness towards Princess Elizabeth, her distant relative since she was a cousin to Anne Boleyn, but she endured a more difficult relationship with Mary, who was around eight years older than her new stepmother. It is unlikely to have been Katherine's 'frivolous' temperament which annoyed Lady Mary, as some historians suggest, but it may have been because Mary was aware of rumours circulating about the new queen's childhood, which had been reported to, and angrily dismissed by, the king in the summer of 1540. 

Katherine struck a friendship with her husband's favourite, Thomas Culpeper, in the spring of 1541. Lindsey, like other historians, fiercely believes that the two enjoyed a sexual relationship, and views this from her feminist perspective as evidence that Katherine was a thoroughly modern woman who listened to and gave in to her body's yearnings, of which she knew she had control over. In the book, this is probably the most dubious interpretation of any of the king's wives. There is little to no evidence that the couple enjoyed any sexual encounters, and it was probably no more than friendship, although evidence of a letter written by the queen to Culpeper suggests that she may have gradually fallen in love with him. Unfortunately, evidence of this came to the Council's attention in autumn 1541, when they also became aware of Katherine's premarital indiscretions with Francis Dereham, who had returned to court, probably hoping to reclaim the woman he viewed as his lawful wife. 

The queen denied everything, but evidence emerged of her encounters with Culpeper, assisted by Jane Rochford, while the councillors strongly suspected she had resumed a sexual relationship with Dereham. Both men were executed brutally in December, while the king mourned his bad luck in choosing wives. Katherine and Jane were beheaded in February 1542, the teenage queen terrified with fright and meekly submitting herself to the axe. Unsurprisingly, this led Victorian historian Agnes Strickland to write: '...without granting her the privilege of uttering one word in her own defence she was condemned to die... she was led like a sheep to the slaughter'. She was probably guilty of nothing more than a childhood relationship before her marriage and indiscreet meetings with a courtier at court, yet fertility politics interpreted this differently and sealed her fate.

Katherine Parr (1512-1548), Married July 1543, King died January 28, 1547, Died September 5, 1548.
Queen of England 1543-1547. 

Often unfairly viewed as the most unimportant of the six queens of Henry VIII, Katherine Parr is actually one of the most interesting. The eldest daughter of an influential courtier (similarly to Anne Boleyn) Thomas Parr and his wife Maud, Katherine experienced a privileged childhood where she learned several languages and essential feminine skills such as household management, embroidery, and dancing, taught by her ambitious mother, who at  this time was a lady-in-waiting to Katherine of Aragon. It is likely that Katherine was named after her. Tutors were also employed, and Katherine developed an interest in medicine.

In 1523, when Katherine was only eleven, her mother began to arrange a marriage between her and Henry Scrope, heir to Lord Scrope of Bolton, but nothing came of it. However, in 1529 Katherine married Edward Borough, yet historians doubt whether this was a satisfactory marriage. Following her mother's death, and that of her husband, Katherine later married John Neville in 1534, who was aged twenty years her senior. He was involved in the Pilgrimage of Grace, to some extent a Catholic rebellion, but ironically it is possible to suggest that Katherine developed an interest in the reformed religion, for which she would become famous, around this time. He died in 1543, leaving Katherine, once more, a widow aged thirty-one.

The previous year, Katherine had successfully achieved a place in the household of Princess Mary, whom she may have known well, since her mother had once served Mary's mother. Katherine probably obtained this due to the influence of her sister Anne at court, who had served Katherine Howard. It seems around this time that Katherine fell speedily in love with the influential courtier Thomas Seymour, brother to the late queen, although it is possible that he was more interested in her assets rather than her personal charm. However, this affair came to nothing, since the king became enamoured of Katherine's favourable attributes and proposed marriage. Apparently, she professed concern, but this did not prevent the marriage taking place in July 1543 at Hampton Court. 

Katherine was close with all of the king's children, and played a highly suitable  role as their new stepmother. The youngest two, Elizabeth and Edward, were highly scholarly, and it seems possible that  the new queen's Protestant sympathies indirectly, or directly, influenced their religious views. One of Katherine's greatest achievements came in 1544 when her husband selected her, like the first Katherine, to act as Regent during his wars abroad. She fulfilled  this role excellently, and attracted further praise from contemporaries for her abilities.

Unlike the king's previous queens, fertility politics did not play a significant role in this marriage, perhaps because the king realised that more children were no longer possible at his advanced age, while the queen, in her mid-thirties, was not regarded as young by Tudor standards. However, the queen's Protestant views made her vulnerable in a court seething with factional discontent. The conservatives, who probably deeply resented the loss of their influence following Katherine Howard's disgrace, used Katherine's sympathies to construct a plot against her in 1546. This was aided by Katherine herself, since the queen liked to engage in religious debates with her husband. This gradually irritated him, seeing his authority as weakened. The notorious execution of the heretic Anne Askew, whom Katherine was believed to have known and perhaps favoured, intensified the plot. A warrant for the Queen's arrest was drawn up, probably with the king's knowledge. Luckily, the queen discovered this, and was able to save herself, although she experienced severe shock, remembering her predecessor's fate. From then on, Katherine realised that discretion was needed with her personal religious views. Luckily, she survived, and her husband died in January 1547 aged fifty-five.

Katherine was a wealthy widow at the time she was widowed, yet scandalously three months later she married Thomas Seymour, alienating Lady Mary and other courtiers. Katherine probably did not know that Seymour had approached both Mary and Elizabeth previously to see whether they would agree to marry him. Tragically, rumours circulated that Elizabeth, who now resided in Katherine's household at Chelsea, enjoyed a notorious affair with the womaniser Seymour, which the dowager queen to an extent encouraged, probably not realising the risks involved. However, when the affair progressed too far, Katherine decided to send Elizabeth away, which deeply upset the princess. In December 1547 Katherine became pregnant, and was delivered of a daughter Mary in August 1548, who probably died shortly afterwards. Katherine, like Jane Seymour before her, contracted childbed fever, and passed away a week after the birth. She allegedly expressed sorrow to Seymour about his regrettable behaviour. 

Often viewed by historians as a nurse who looked after her ageing husband, Lindsey and other feminists make clear that she was a courageous, devoted woman who did much to shape religious affairs in England, and was a strong political figure in the English court.

This article hopefully conveys the usefulness of gender in historical analysis, and how it can shape our understandings of the past.

Medieval Queens: A "Beautiful Woman" and a "Reluctant Queen"

Sisters-in-law and successive Queens of England, Elizabeth Woodville (or Wydeville) and Anne Neville are two of England's forgotten medieval queens. Eclipsed by more charismatic and intriguing consorts, such as Anne Boleyn, or foreign princesses such as Eleanor of Aquitaine or Katherine of Aragon, this seems somewhat surprising, given that both played a significant role in the civil conflict known as 'The Wars of the Roses' in the period 1464-85. Exceedingly different in their personalities, Elizabeth and Anne endured strikingly different marriages and queenships.

Elizabeth Woodville (1437?-1492)

Elizabeth was the eldest daughter of Sir Richard Woodville, who became 1st Earl Rivers, and his foreign wife, the wealthy Jacquetta of Luxembourg, dowager duchess of Bedford and, according to legend, descendant of the goddess Mesulina, likely born in 1437-8. This marriage was seen as shocking, for Jacquetta, with her superb foreign lineage and prestigious first marriage, was believed to be too great a prospect for the relatively lowly Woodville. As examples of Jacquetta's breeding, she was connected with European emperors and her relatives held important positions in Europe as bishops or counts. In view of this, her decision to align herself with a gentry family considerably disparaged her social status in the eyes of contemporaries. Nonetheless, this striking lineage is likely to have been considerably important to her daughter, Elizabeth, when she married a king some years later and was resented by other court figures for her 'lowly' position. Elizabeth's younger siblings comprised five brothers and six daughters. Undoubtedly, the size of the Woodville family attracted substantial hostility in later years when it was felt they were monopolising prestigious marriage alliances in England.

Some scholars have maintained that Elizabeth, at the age of eight years old, became a maid-of-honour to the French queen Margaret of Anjou, English queen consort of King Henry VI, in 1445. Those with knowledge of medieval and early modern customs will appreciate that adolescent females were usually expected to be around thirteen years old to serve as maids of honour to queens, as the controversial later case of Anne Boleyn demonstrates. Other historians, such as Michael Hicks, suggest that this identification is mistaken. Certainly, Elizabeth spent her childhood in Northamptonshire probably acquiring social and marital skills viewed by the gentry as fundamental, including the ability to manage one's household, to sing, dance, and acquire proficiency in traditional feminine areas such as sewing and embroidery.

According to contemporary sources, Elizabeth was very beautiful. One remarked that she was "the most beautiful woman in the Island of Britain", but her eyes were referred to as being "heavy-lidded like those of a dragon". If made during her queenship, this comment was perhaps disparaging of Elizabeth, viewing her as scheming, volatile or unpredictable, which may have been characteristics associated with the dragon, a mythical creature central in medieval culture. The above portrait, painted in the sixteenth century, conveys a well-dressed, confident young woman. The fact that Elizabeth was the first queen to sit for an individual portrait suggests that she regarded appearance as highly important. She was believed to have a pale complexion and superb long blonde hair.

In 1456, at the age of about nineteen, Elizabeth married her first husband, Sir John Grey, who was the eldest son and heir of Edward, Lord Ferrers of Groby. According to medieval family and social customs, it seems likely that Elizabeth's parents arranged this marriage for her, which can be seen as a highly successful alliance. Daughters often married in their teenage years to achieve alliances with other prominent families in order to ensure social security and prestige. Elizabeth gave birth to two sons, Thomas, future marquess of Dorset, and Richard. Sir John, unfortunately, died in 1461 after only five years of marriage.

The circumstances of Elizabeth's meeting with Edward IV, king of England following the successful deposition of the insane Henry VI, are highly controversial and have been mythologised spectacularly, as seen in Philippa Gregory's novel "The White Queen" (2009). What is clear is that following John's death Elizabeth was left in considerable financial difficulties. These difficulties meant that she was forced to turn to the king himself for assistance. However, the fact that Sir John Grey had fought on the Lancastrian side at the Second Battle of St Albans, a significant battle during the prolonged Wars of the Roses, was not likely to endear Edward IV, the Yorkist king, to his beautiful if, in his eyes, disloyal widow. After having sought the assistance of William, Lord Hastings, the king's chamberlain, Elizabeth petitioned the king.

According to later stories - which must be seen as suspect - Edward IV intended to persuade Elizabeth to sleep with him, after having agreed to her suit. The new king, only in his early twenties, was amorous and jovial, enamoured of beautiful ladies. Mythologised dramatically in Gregory's novel, Elizabeth is said to have refused assertively, even drawing her dagger and threatening to stab herself if the king dared to violate her. Edward, apparently, was so impressed that he immediately proposed marriage to her. Although this account is far-fetched, to say the least, it is plausible that King Edward fell deeply in love with Elizabeth Woodville when he met her, for she was confident, enigmatic, beautiful and, perhaps most important to a new king, of fruitful stock, having borne 2 sons herself and having no less than eleven siblings. The two married on 1 May 1464 at Elizabeth's residence in Northamptonshire. This must be interpreted as a spectacular family triumph for the Woodvilles. Unfortunately, it attracted considerable hostility from other nobles, while the king's closest advisers, namely Richard, earl of Warwick, viewed the king's actions as stupid and reckless. According to medieval royal customs, kings traditionally married females from other royal houses to ensure strong alliances between countries and to improve or bolster their familial lineage. By marrying a commoner, Edward set a precedent for later queens of England, most famously for those of his grandson Henry VIII.

On 26 May 1465, Elizabeth was formally crowned queen of England. According to contemporaries, there was 'universal disapproval' to the match, in the words of Michael Hicks. Polydore Vergil, a Tudor historian, asserted that it was motivated by 'blynde affection, and not be reule of reason'. Even the king's relatives, including his formidable mother the duchess of York and his brother Richard, were not enamoured of his new wife. Elizabeth gave birth to the couple's first child, Elizabeth later queen of England, in February 1466. Like her mother, Elizabeth proved to be a fruitful bride, giving birth to ten children in some nineteen years of marriage, of whom eight survived to adulthood. She was granted secure revenues as queen, although these were worth considerably less than those of previous medieval queens.

Elizabeth was not a popular queen. Her family was perceived to be scheming and greedy; her eleven siblings caused substantial resentment, since because they all had to be married to other nobles, this left few other marriage alliances possible for other nobles. Katherine, the queen's younger sister, was married to the youth Henry Stafford, second Duke of Buckingham, who apparently responded by throwing a tantrum. Elizabeth's brother John, who was twenty years old, was married to the 69-year old Katherine, duchess of Norfolk, which caused major controversy and disbelief. Ironically, John predeceased his aged wife. The queen's other siblings were married to the sons of the earls of Kent, Pembroke and Essex. However, while this angered other nobles, it should surely be seen as natural for the queen to achieve successful marriage alliances at court for her relatives and friends, well established in royal precedent.

The queen's personality is something of an enigma. Judging by later actions, she was brave, courageous and resourceful, but during her queenship she was perceived to be cold, ruthless, calculating, scheming, manipulative and common; like Anne Boleyn sixty-five years later, it was commonly believed that Edward had only married Elizabeth for her beauty, ignoring her lack of suitable qualities to be queen. Viewing Elizabeth with gender and sexuality in mind allows a more nuanced understanding. Her beauty and sexual fascination attracted curiosity or hostility, yet she was in some ways a suitable medieval consort, in particular due to her ability to bear many children. This was necessary, for, as has been pointed out, no consort was ever really safe until she had done that. Others associated her and her mother with witchcraft, largely because of the belief that they were related to Melusina, the goddess and/or witch of legend. Jacquetta was accused of witchcraft by one of Warwick's followers, but was shortly after acquitted. This occurred in context of Warwick's increasing dissatisfaction with the king, intensified by his hostility to his marriage with Elizabeth.

Warwick resented the Woodvilles' increasing hold on power in the English court. Fearing his loss of influence, he associated himself with the king's dissatisfied younger brother, George duke of Clarence, and it is possible that the two plotted to remove Edward and establish George as king. Rumours alleged that the king's mother was also involved. Warwick rebelled in 1469, aiming to eliminate members of Elizabeth's family prominent at court. This spectacular coup saw the king fleeing into exile in October 1470, while the queen sought sanctuary at Westminster Abbey, where she gave birth to her son and heir, Edward Prince of Wales, who was later murdered as one of the Princes in the Tower. Her husband successfully returned to power in 1471, and the unfortunate Henry VI, who had briefly become king again, was murdered on the orders of the king in the Tower. Warwick had died in battle at Barnet.

Elizabeth was a conventional medieval queen consort in participating in pious acts and by co-founding Queens' College, Cambridge, although some have alleged that she did this merely to attempt to wipe out the memory of its previous founder, Margaret of Anjou. 1478 saw Elizabeth's younger son, Richard, who was merely five years old, marrying Anne Mowbray. That same year saw the execution of the king's brother Clarence, an act which revolted English society and was laid at the hands of the queen. She had certainly supported Edward's other brother, Richard, against Clarence, and in the words of Hicks, Clarence's 'trial was peppered with substantial Woodville involvement'. Considering gender, however, allows one to modify this view. Although Elizabeth may have feared or resented Clarence, it was ultimately the king who ordered the judicial murder of his own brother. Medieval society always blamed the woman, identifying them as evil and instruments of the devil. Elizabeth was almost certainly portrayed as evil or murderous in order to present her as a scapegoat for her husband's actions.

Elizabeth became Queen Mother following the death of her husband in 1483 at the comparatively young age of forty-one. His lust and gluttony was held responsible for his premature demise. The Woodvilles and Hastings' faction had become bitterly divided at court and, although Edward had tried to reconcile the two on his deathbed, conflict erupted following his death. The queen and her family dominated the council in the wake of the king's death and plans were on hand for the immediate coronation of the eldest royal son, Edward, aged twelve. Unfortunately, however, it seems likely that the hostility towards the queen's family intensified now, and the queen was more vulnerable without her husband's protective influence. Richard, duke of Gloucester, who had previously co-operated with both Edward and Elizabeth, appears to have panicked, fearing his loss of influence at court, although others alleged that his conspiracy to attain the throne had been devised and planned for some time. Anthony Woodville, brother to the queen, and her father John were both arrested and beheaded, a cruel act which must have angered and upset the queen. The new king, Edward V, was also seized by his uncle.

Although Edward V was conveyed to London by Richard, Elizabeth was not reassured by Richard's letters, mistrusting and fearing him. Demonstrating his panic, Richard had Hastings, the king's closest friend, beheaded in the early summer. On 25 June 1483, the act 'Titulus Regius' asserted that the late king's marriage to Elizabeth Woodville had never been valid, on the grounds of his precontract to Eleanor Butler. In effect, the new king and his brother, Richard, were bastards, and their uncle, Richard, the only legitimate claimant to the throne. The queen was accused of plotting against Richard with several others, including the late king's mistress Jane Shore, and was also accused of witchcraft. She resided in sanctuary at Westminster Abbey, although she later gave up her younger son, Richard, into the hands of the by now new king Richard III.

Whether Elizabeth actually gave up her younger son to Richard is fiercely contested. There have been controversial theories about the deaths of the two Princes in the Tower, relating to whether it was Richard III, Henry VII, or someone else who had them murdered, and whether both boys were the Princes, or whether one was an impostor and the real young Prince Richard protected. Undoubtedly, the legitimate king Edward V was murdered, aged twelve. By the autumn of 1483, the boys were no longer seen at the Tower, making it virtually certain they had been killed by that time.

Elizabeth remained a figurehead for rebellion. She appears to have begun plotting with Lady Margaret Beaufort, a Lancastrian, and arranged for her daughter Elizabeth of York to marry Margaret's son, Henry Tudor, if he successfully became king. We know with hindsight that he did, defeating Richard at Bosworth in 1485 and marrying Elizabeth of York in 1486, who gave birth to her first son Arthur that year. However, the Queen Mother did not enjoy complete happiness during her daughter's queenship. Her dower lands were confiscated, and it was alleged that she was plotting against her new daughter, for which there is no proof. She died in 1492 and was buried beside her husband, Edward IV, at St George's Chapel, Windsor. Never a popular queen, Elizabeth lived a spectacular life. Although probably both her sons tragically were murdered, she ultimately triumphed with the accession of her daughter to the throne, having married the Lancastrian king, Henry Tudor, and founding a new Tudor dynasty.

Anne Neville (1456-1485)

The woman who followed Elizabeth Woodville to the throne following the death of her husband Edward IV was Anne Neville, her sister-in-law. She was the daughter of Richard Neville, earl of Warwick, who had rebelled against Edward in the 1460s before dying at Barnet in 1470. Like Elizabeth, Anne was a prominent figure in the Wars of the Roses. Her life, like Elizabeth, was extraordinary. Little is known about Anne personally. Like another queen consort, Jane Seymour, who reigned fifty years later, Anne's personality is shrouded in mystery. A chronicler, knowing her personally, described her as being beautiful, virtuous and gracious.

Anne was of better birth than Elizabeth Woodville, since her father was of an old and noble family prominent in the north of England. Anne spent most of her childhood at Middleham Castle, where she and her younger sister Isabella later met the Duke of York's sons, Richard (later king) and George duke of Clarence. In 1469, Isabella married Clarence and, the following year, Anne was betrothed to Richard duke of Gloucester.

However, Anne was not fated to marry Richard at this time. Political unrest and dissatisfaction at court, led by Anne's father Warwick, had led to the insane king Henry VI reigning again and the deposing of Edward IV. The Treaty of Angers, conveying the international scale which the Wars of the Roses had encompassed, provided for Anne Neville to marry Edward, prince of Wales, who was the son of Henry VI and his queen, Margaret of Anjou. They were betrothed on 25 July and married in December 1470. Anne's husband, Edward, died at the battle of Tewkesbury, leading to the successful coup by Edward IV in recovering his throne.

This left Anne in a precarious situation. Not only had her father Warwick been slain at Barnet in 1470, but she was now a widow at fifteen years old, and probably suspected of disloyalty by the king and his queen. Since she was a powerful heiress in her own right, she was a magnet for wealthy and ambitious courtiers seeking to improve their financial and social status. Richard, however, still desired to marry Anne. On 12 July 1472, Anne and Richard were married at Westminster Abbey, while their principal residence was Anne's childhood home, Middleham Castle. Anne gave birth to a son, Edward in 1473, who tragically died in 1484, aged eleven, meaning that Richard, who by then was king, had no male heir to succeed him.

Having established the events of the coup of 1483,  following his triumph as king, Richard's wife Anne became Queen of England that summer. Since she was accompanied by less than half the knights Elizabeth Woodville had enjoyed, this has been seen as evidence that the new royal couple were viewed with hostility or discontent by the English population. Of course, we do not know Anne's private thoughts either about her new status or her husband. Since she came from an ambitious family, it is possible that she enjoyed being queen, the highest social and political status a medieval woman could aspire to.

However, Hicks has downplayed her importance, suggesting that she was 'an insignificant queen' because of her frequent ill health. She did not control her own inheritance or have the dowerlands assigned to other queens. The death of her son severely upset Anne, but she was unable to provide Richard with another one. Perhaps in view of this, rumours circulated that Richard meant to put aside his queen and replace her with his own niece, Elizabeth of York, daughter of Elizabeth Woodville. This problem was tragically, if speedily, resolved on 16 March 1485, when Queen Anne died at Westminster, perhaps of tuberculosis. Nonetheless, Richard's enemies alleged that he had poisoned his young queen, since she was unable to provide him with a male heir following the death of the prince a year previously. Anne was later buried in Westminster Abbey.

It would be fair to say that Anne Neville is one of the more neglected or insignificant queens of England in our history. Like Jane Seymour, we know nothing about her personal thoughts, motivations or feelings during her life. A typical medieval woman in that her life was controlled and shaped according to the wishes of her father and later two husbands, she reigned for only two years before her untimely demise, although it seems that she had been suffering from ill health for a conspicuous period. What is reasonable to suggest is that she was the antithesis of her predecessor, Elizabeth Woodville, a courageous and determined woman who nonetheless alienated many at the English court. Both women, however, played important roles in the Wars of the Roses, even if they saw significantly differing experiences as queen.