Why She Needs a Man
Kristen Todd
The Henriad’s highborn women never go without a man. Each noblewoman from Richard II to Henry V is presented in conjunction with a man; even the Duchess of Gloucester in Richard II and Kate Percy in Henry IV, Part II were associated with men, though both men had died. Catherine of Valois is an exception, but even as a maiden, she is positioned as Henry V’s future queen. Under Queen Elizabeth’s rule, the Henriad curiously lacks strong female figures, reminiscent of the queen. Meanwhile, it lauds the kings it depicts. In doing so, the Henriad lends more credibility to Elizabeth’s lineage and birthright. So while Shakespeare’s Henriad glorifies Tudor ancestry and helps legitimize Elizabeth’s claim to the throne, it does not indicate any acceptance female monarchs. As a result, the Henriad elevates the Tudor line and rejects feminine rule.
While the Henriad glorifies the Tudor Line and Henry V, especially, very well, it does so by manipulating the history of France and England to promote male leadership—ostensibly devaluing feminie leadership. Historically, Isabella, queen of France, signed the Treaty of Troyes because of King Charles’ insanity (“Isabella of Bavaria” par 1). Charles VI was so mad, that he at times did not recognize his own wife (“Isabella of Bavaria” par 2); such a man was incapable of leading a nation at war. Yet throughout Henry V, King Charles reigns, not Isabella or the Dauphin. The absence of Isabella as a political power indicates an Elizabethan disregard for queens regnant.
On the surface, it seems strange that a work would devalue female rule when a beloved Queen sat on the throne. Yet the fear seems well-founded considering the reign of “Bloody Mary.” Following the reign of Elizabeth’s sister, Mary I, the English people feared queens regnant, because the English suffered Mary’s bloody attempt to reinstate English Catholicism. Her policies condemned thousands of people to death for Protestantism at a time when “anti-Catholicism” equated “loyalty to the English state” (McLaren 741). John Foxe echoed public sentiment, claiming “Thus have ye Mary now made a queen, and the sword of authority put into her hand,” which she used for the “murdering of God’s saints” (John Foxe, Actes and Monumentes, 1684; cited in Duncan 33). Mary reinforced a cultural antipathy towards powerful women like Queen Jezebel and the Amazons. Such women upset the patriarchal balance, wielding the might of a man with the irregularity of a woman. John Foxe clarifies this sentiment, explaining, “no woman can euer presume to reigne aboue a man, but the same [queens] must nedes do in despite of God,” (John Knox, The First Blast of the Trumpet Against the Monstrous Regiment of Women, 1558; cited in “A Strange Hatred of Marriage” 103). Queen Mary actualized England’s fears of women, vascillating between tyrannical Catholicism and weakness when she prioritized her husband’s Spanish interests rather than England.
To avoid invoking English antipathy like her sister, Elizabeth and her supporters employed two strategies. The first rhetorically positioned Elizabeth as a maiden, mother and wife without her ever marrying, and conflicting wifely duties with queenly ones. Without this conflict of interest, Elizabeth could act more freely. As maiden, she was desirable and kept men seeking her favor and her hand. As mother and wife, Elizabeth employed language of love, heretofore unused by monarchs. The History and ANNALS of Elizabeth, Queene of England, etc., quotes Elizabeth:
. . . I doe finde in my subiects the same, if not farre greater affection, than when I came first to the Crowne: the which entire loue if I should finde to fayle, I might well perhaps perceiue my selfe to breathe, but not to liue. (Camden [Y4]v-[Z1]r)
This language illuminates Elizabeth’s dependence upon her people and reminds them of their dependence upon her. The theory of The King’s Two Bodies describes an exchange of subjects’ obedience for kingly protection, a mutual responsibility; Elizabeth’s rhetoric accesses this responsibility and fulfills it.
Elizabeth’s other strategy negated her sex and employed “medieval and humanist ideas of good kingship” (Mears 81). Fulfilling these ideals, Elizabeth weighed her counselor’s advice carefully before making decisions (81). One such decision could involve her own identity; “Elizabeth was . . . more likely to dismiss gender conventions” rather than “manipulate them” (Mears 81). Rather than manipulate women into positive figures, she denied connections between herself and her sex. Elizabeth won her people’s acceptance with these methods, but rendered herself an exception rather than a paragon.
While the Henriad glorifies the Tudor Line and Henry V, especially, very well, it does so by manipulating the history of France and England to promote male leadership—ostensibly devaluing feminie leadership. Historically, Isabella, queen of France, signed the Treaty of Troyes because of King Charles’ insanity (“Isabella of Bavaria” par 1). Charles VI was so mad, that he at times did not recognize his own wife (“Isabella of Bavaria” par 2); such a man was incapable of leading a nation at war. Yet throughout Henry V, King Charles reigns, not Isabella or the Dauphin. The absence of Isabella as a political power indicates an Elizabethan disregard for queens regnant.
On the surface, it seems strange that a work would devalue female rule when a beloved Queen sat on the throne. Yet the fear seems well-founded considering the reign of “Bloody Mary.” Following the reign of Elizabeth’s sister, Mary I, the English people feared queens regnant, because the English suffered Mary’s bloody attempt to reinstate English Catholicism. Her policies condemned thousands of people to death for Protestantism at a time when “anti-Catholicism” equated “loyalty to the English state” (McLaren 741). John Foxe echoed public sentiment, claiming “Thus have ye Mary now made a queen, and the sword of authority put into her hand,” which she used for the “murdering of God’s saints” (John Foxe, Actes and Monumentes, 1684; cited in Duncan 33). Mary reinforced a cultural antipathy towards powerful women like Queen Jezebel and the Amazons. Such women upset the patriarchal balance, wielding the might of a man with the irregularity of a woman. John Foxe clarifies this sentiment, explaining, “no woman can euer presume to reigne aboue a man, but the same [queens] must nedes do in despite of God,” (John Knox, The First Blast of the Trumpet Against the Monstrous Regiment of Women, 1558; cited in “A Strange Hatred of Marriage” 103). Queen Mary actualized England’s fears of women, vascillating between tyrannical Catholicism and weakness when she prioritized her husband’s Spanish interests rather than England.
To avoid invoking English antipathy like her sister, Elizabeth and her supporters employed two strategies. The first rhetorically positioned Elizabeth as a maiden, mother and wife without her ever marrying, and conflicting wifely duties with queenly ones. Without this conflict of interest, Elizabeth could act more freely. As maiden, she was desirable and kept men seeking her favor and her hand. As mother and wife, Elizabeth employed language of love, heretofore unused by monarchs. The History and ANNALS of Elizabeth, Queene of England, etc., quotes Elizabeth:
. . . I doe finde in my subiects the same, if not farre greater affection, than when I came first to the Crowne: the which entire loue if I should finde to fayle, I might well perhaps perceiue my selfe to breathe, but not to liue. (Camden [Y4]v-[Z1]r)
This language illuminates Elizabeth’s dependence upon her people and reminds them of their dependence upon her. The theory of The King’s Two Bodies describes an exchange of subjects’ obedience for kingly protection, a mutual responsibility; Elizabeth’s rhetoric accesses this responsibility and fulfills it.
Elizabeth’s other strategy negated her sex and employed “medieval and humanist ideas of good kingship” (Mears 81). Fulfilling these ideals, Elizabeth weighed her counselor’s advice carefully before making decisions (81). One such decision could involve her own identity; “Elizabeth was . . . more likely to dismiss gender conventions” rather than “manipulate them” (Mears 81). Rather than manipulate women into positive figures, she denied connections between herself and her sex. Elizabeth won her people’s acceptance with these methods, but rendered herself an exception rather than a paragon.