Now let us turn our attention towards a woman unrivalled by any other in history, a woman of unprecedented power, action, and vivacity. It may be evident to you at this point that I have a wee bit of a history crush (nerd alert!) on Queen Elizabeth I, but I promise to endeavour towards unbiased reportage with regards to her biography as well as her needle. Hers was a difficult beginning, but like the Tudor rose from which she sprang, she blossomed to adopt the mantle of her regal position -- although not without drawing some blood.
Henry VIII, portrait by Hans Holbein the Younger, and Anne Boleyn by unknown artist.
Image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.
She was born to King Henry VIII and his second wife Anne Boleyn on September 7, 1533 a girl and a disappointment (Doran 2003). Dashed were the high hopes for a definite successor to Henry's reign, but she was called Elizabeth after her grandmothers -- for both Henry and Anne had been born of a woman named Elizabeth -- and this name underscored her position as undoubtedly regal, a nod to her royal lineage (Doran 2003). When Elizabeth was only two and a half years old, her mother was accused of adulterous treason, found guilty (whether she was or not), and beheaded -- thus annulling the validity of the marriage, and Elizabeth's place in the succession (Doran 2003). For this reason, her parentage was always in question at court, although it has been said that Henry always recognized her legitimacy as his daughter, if not his heir (Doran 2003). There is no indication that she has been particularly close to her mother, owing to the little time they had spent together and the tenderness of her age at the time of her mother's execution, and publicly, she made no effort to vindicate her mother, nor to validate her position as heir (Doran 2003). However, “she took over her mother’s motto Semper Eadem (‘Always the same’) and her badge of the crowned falcon holding a sceptre perched on a tree stump from which the Tudor roses sprang” (Doran 2003:15), and paid respect to her mother’s life and kin in subtle other ways. It is possible that the adoption of her mother's badge not only allowed Elizabeth to pay homage to a woman she had never known but who played an indisputable role in Elizabeth's lot in life (even after death, as we shall soon come to see), but that the imagery of this device served a cognitive and emotive function; a source of inspiration and reassurance. She lived in a state of constant flux and sometime negligence, her early years being characterized by uncertainty, since she would be restored to her station as heir (third in line) again in 1544, becoming subject to the whims of her reigning brother Edward VI (who was amicable with her) and her half-sister Mary I (who demonstrated towards Elizabeth ambivalence and sometimes even hostility) (Doran 2003),
The Badge of Anne Boleyn.
Image courtesy of Anne-Boleyn.com
Before I continue with her biography, I must make a brief explanation of New Years Gifts (mentioned in previous posts) and other forms of what is known to anthropologists as "prestation." During this time, it was customary to present gifts to the regent of the day on specified occasions, such as when the regent marched on progresses, at tilts, and on such holidays as New Years and Accession Day (Klein 1997). Such presentments can be classified as “prestations,” those gifts which are regarded as being voluntary, devoid of self-interest, and spontaneous, but are in all actuality obligatory and fully vested with interest (Klein 1997). The principles of rivalry and antagonism are evident in this form of gift exchange through the conspicuous expenditures that characterized the Elizabethan era (especially with regards to the arenas of building, hospitality, and clothing) (Klein 1997). Excessive generosity ihs in the giver’s best interest since, “The more generous the gift, the greater the obligation to reciprocate and the more difficult it becomes to discharge the debt” (Klein 1997:466) -- for more on "the tyranny of the gift", peruse the body of literature produced by Marcel Mauss. People from every social position were expected to participate in this ritual acquiescence, since nobles often gave gifts of gold, tailored garments, and jewelry; ladies of the chamber presented hand worked items such as scarves, handkerchiefs, and bodices, which provided testimony to their ongoing devotion to the queen during their spare hours; and professional craftspeople offered tokens of their respective occupations (Klein 1997). The social functions of this prestation were twofold: firstly, it reinforced social hierarchies, but it also secured the giver with inalienable possessions (such as land, office, or status) in exchange for alienable material wealth (Klein 1997).
Portrait of Elizabeth by unknown artist (c. 1546).
Image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.
Back to Elizabeth -- in 1539, according to these customs of prestation, she presented her younger brother Edward, whose elevated rank in the succession owed to his sex and not his age, with a cambric shirt and embroidered braser (arm band) for New Years (Doran 2003). In 1544, Elizabeth was granted the privilege of private tutelage -- no longer joining in with her brother's lessons -- under the Humanist scholar William Grindal (Doran 2003). When he died unexpectedly of the plague in 1546, Elizabeth, “who had both admired and grown fond of Grindal, insisted on the appointment of his one-time teacher and friend, Roger Ascham, who was then a fellow of St. John’s College Cambridge. It was a mark of her strong personality that she got her own way,” despite the wishes of her guardians to appoint a tutor whose background was to feature a stronger religious component (Doran 2003:30). Ascham was a proponent of the double translation method of learning, which called for the translation of a written passage into English before its subsequent back translation in order to garner an appreciation for both the vocabulary and grammar of the language, as well as “the style and mindset of the original authors” (Doran 2003:32) -- funny enough, this was the method I used to help develop the Latin motto of my impresa. Recognized, then as now, as an accomplished intellectual, quick witted and adroit, it is especially important to recognize that “the men and women responsible for Elizabeth’s early intellectual and spiritual education during both her father’s and her brother’s reign favoured spiritual reform. Through them, Elizabeth was exposed from an early age to writers who questioned or rejected Orthodox Catholic teachings”, and by 1548 she was an accomplished thinker capable of speaking French, Italian, Latin, and some Greek (Doran 2003:33).
There are many other aspects of Elizabeth's life which had a strong impact on her formative experiences and character that bear mention -- such as her imprisonment in the Tower of London and the question of her alleged romantic liaisons -- but given that my focus, as it were, pertains to needlework, let the burden of evidence turn now towards needlework.
Queen Katherine Parr in The Melton Constable Portrait, unknown artist.
Image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.
In 1544, at the tender age of eleven, Elizabeth presented to her stepmother Katherine Parr a translation she had rendered of Margaret of Navarre's poem The Mirror or Glasse of the Synnefull Soul, replete with embroidered book cover for her New Years gift (Klein 1997, Doran 2003). Klein has argued that this act can be recognized as both "an acceptable demonstration of learning as well as an appropriately pious exercise for a young girl" reliant upon "the giver's modest humility to foster desired, reciprocal relations with her father and stepmother" (Klein 1997:477). Not only did these gifts demonstrate Elizabeth's facility with pen and needle, they "complemented her learning with a demonstration of individuality and wit" (Klein 1997:477). These books exhibit the telltale flower with which she is often associated (remembering the cloak wrought by Bess bedecked with pansies). On this association, Klein has written that
It is generally assumed that the pansy was simply a favorite flower of Elizabeth, bearing no particular significance. But it was so frequently associated with her that it must have been a signature flower, like the elgantine. Evidently, Elizabeth adopted the pansy as a lighthearted self-reference as a child, using the motif in her embroidered work. Perhaps she favored the flower for its ability to signify both the serious and coy aspects of her disposition. Pansies appeared again in the corners of the books presented to her father and step-mother in 1545, linking the three embroideries as expressions of Elizabeth's identity (1997:478).
Cover of the Miroir or Glasse of the Synefull Soul, embroidered by Elizabeth for Katherine Parr and presented on New Years of 1545.
Image courtesy of Wikipedia Commons.
With the pansy, Elizabeth plays with linguistic and visual signification. Klein has asserted that the pansy can be read as a pun on the French word pensee, meaning "thought" or "idea" (think of the meaning of the word pensive in English) (Klein 1997, Doran 2003). The pansy was also colloquially referred to as "love-in-idleness", and Klein has remarked upon how the selection of this flower may have been an invocation of:
the tension between its association with vain or idle love and [Margaret of Navarre's] poem's focus on sacred love. The flower's connotations of idleness were offset by her own work with the needle, and the pun of pansy/pensee drew attention to the thoughtful work of translation and the prayerful act of meditation (both of which were held to prevent dangerous ideas). Thus the gift proclaimed with a subtle wit both aspects of the girl's industry; Elizabeth's hands and her mind were kept occupied by the work. At the same time, she confronted the recipient (her learned stepmother) with a clever intellectual paradox rendered visually (1997:478).
Portrait of Lady Margaret of Beaufort dressed as a widow, unknown artist.
Image courtesy of Wikipedia Commons.
Such cleverness at such a tender age! This gift represents a major act of ingratiation on behalf of an 11 year old girl, especially one whose position in the family was in constant flux. In 1544, Elizabeth incited the king's offense (with what, we do not know) and was banished from the household, only to be restored later through the sensitive intervention of Katherine Parr (Klein 1997). Moreover, the title of this work reflects a subtle reference to her bloodline: it makes reference to The Myrour of Golde for the Synfull Soule penned by Lady Margaret Beaufort, "a learned Humanist and mother of Henry VII" in 1506 (Klein 1997:479). Perceptively, the girl made reference to her handiwork in the inscription to Katherine, knowing full well the supercharged weight of a handmade gift through her inscription:
I know that as for my part which I have through in it (as well spiritual as manual) there is nothing done as it should be or else worthy to come in Your Grace's hands, but rather all unperfect (Klein 1997:480).
In 1545, she made translation of Katherine Parr's own Prayers and Meditations -- also sporting an embroidered cover -- a New Years gift to her father (Klein 1997, Doran 2003).
Embroidered back cover of Prayers and Meditations of Katherine Parr translated and wrought by Elizabeth and presented to her father Henry VIII for New Years of 1545.
Image courtesy of Wikipedia Commons.
Essentially, Elizabeth sought to foster intimacy and underscore the hand made quality of her gift by saying "From my humble hands to yours." Similarly was the queen presented with such objects -- varying in their modes of manufacture, and thus in their symbolic weight -- in turn. Her New Years gifts of 1589 included 795 pounds in gold, six dozen gifts of clothing, most of it embroidered, sixteen items of jewelry, several pieces of gold-plate and silver-plate, and a dozen gifts of embroidered furnishings (Klein 1997). In 1562, she received from Bess of Hardwick, then-lady of the bedchamber, “‘one peire of sleeves of fine cameryke embroidered with goldsmith’s work of silver gilt, and a pece of purle upon a paper to edge them’”(Digby 1963:59). Remembering, as has been previously mentioned, that Bess also produced the sumptuous cloak for the occasion of New Years, 1574 to repair her relationship with Elizabeth (Klein 1997), and Mary Queen of Scots made many gifts of embroidery to Elizabeth, including a crimson satin skirt which was apparently well liked (Digby 1963, Klein 1997). From the young Arabella Stuart, the queen received in 1600 “‘a scarfe or head veil of lawn cut-work flourished with silver and silk of sundry colours’” (Digby 1963:60). Writing to Bess, Lady Dorothy Stafford indicated that the Queen had “‘taken an especial liking to that of my Lady Arabella’s… and withal hath retorned a token to my Lady Arabella, which is not so good as I could wish it nor so good as her ladyship deserveth in respect of the rareness of that which she sent unto Her Majesty’” (Digby 1963:60). Visiting Hardwick on January 3, 1603 to interview Arabella on behalf of the Queen, Sir Henry Brounker indicated that Queen was well pleased with the New Year’s present and “‘would be glad to know how she did’”, indicating “‘an attitude of respect for the originality and quality of domestic embroidery” (Digby 1963:60). Of course, being Queen, gifts reciprocated need not have been of equal value; in fact, in she was not required to reciprocate at all, in some cases (Klein 1997).
Coronation of Elizabeth, unknown artist (c.1600-1610).
Note the the tudor roses worked on the fabric.
Image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.
This goes to show how exchanges of needle work functioned as a material object around which alliances were forged, similar to the way in which the circulation of sonnets among male poets functioned to forge alliances between male courtiers of the era (Klein 1997). For this reason, they were objects heavily vested with careful thought as well as practical consideration in terms of cost and composition. Klein takes care to illustrate how “The many instances of handwrought gifts remind us that women did enter the arena of cultural production, where they promoted their interests and praised the monarch, although less through writing than through their work with the needle” (Klein 1997:462). Women portrayed themselves as loyal subjects, promoted personal or familial interests, and fostered relationships of obligation through the presentation of handmade works (Klein 1997). Clearly, this notion of the passive, apolitical noblewomen is grossly erroneous; in this way, an examination of needlework demonstrates the way in which some Elizabethan women were active participants in the politics and intellectual society of the era.
Sources Cited
Digby, George Whitfield
1963 Elizabethan Embroidery. London, England: Faber and Faber.
Doran, Susan.
2003 Queen Elizabeth I. Washington Square, New York: New York University Press.
Klein, Lisa
1997 Your Humble Handmaid: Elizabethan Gifts of Needlework. Renaissance Quarterly.
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