Fairy Tale Queens: Representations of Early Modern Queenship (25 page)

The cost of elaborate clothing, especially for royalty, was enormous. Perhaps because of Elizabeth’s relatively long reign and her many extant portraits, Elizabeth is most associated with sumptuous clothing, but other queens may have surpassed her in sheer expenditure. Arnold points out that contrary to popular belief, Elizabeth’s wardrobe expenses were not excessive in comparison to those of Catherine of Aragon, Anne Boleyn, Mary Tudor, and Mary, Queen of Scots, and that Elizabeth’s clothing costs “each year for the last four years of her reign were £9,535, while those for James I during the first five years of his reign were £36,377, annually.”
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English queens were not the only ones who invested lavishly in their royal dress. Juana the Mad was notorious for extravagant expenditures to outfit herself and her entourage: “From fitted vests to fashionable hats, Juana particularly favored the color crimson, which more than doubled an item’s price. By 1488 Juana’s accumulation of clothing and other possessions required a convoy of mules, appropriately garnished, to carry her luggage.” As Bethany Aram explains, Juana’s habits of spending were introduced when she was young: “At age ten, royal accounts indicate that Juana received a mule, complete with reins, stirrups, and saddle covered in silk and brocade. Her mule’s trimmings cost nearly as much as the infanta’s own dress.”
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Like their fairy tale counterparts, however, royal women did not always have the resources and power to control their own wardrobes and were often dependent upon the largesse of kings. Queen consorts and princesses had to rely on the whims or preferences of their fathers or husbands; indeed, kings could exercise an extraordinary control over the wardrobes of royal women, which could be manifested in disregard, punishment, or generosity.

When Catherine of Aragon found herself in the awkward liminal position of dowager princess of England—after Arthur’s death but before her marriage to Henry—she had to appeal to two kings, her father-in-law and her father, for money to cover her clothing and household expenses. Neither Henry VII nor Ferdinand was particularly sympathetic; in a letter to her father, Catherine explained her dire situation: “I am in debt in London and this is not for extravagant things, nor yet by relieving my own people who greatly need it, but only for food; and how the king of England, my lord, will not cause them [the debts] to be satisfied, although I myself spoke to him, and all those of his council, and that with tears: but he said he is not obliged to give me anything...because your highness has not kept promise with him in the money of my marriage-portion... I am in the greatest trouble and anguish in the world. On the one part, seeing all my people that they are ready to ask alms; in the other, the debts which I have in London; on the other, about my own person, I have nothing for chemises; wherefore, by your highness’ life, I have now sold some bracelets to get a dress of black velvet, for I was all but naked: for since I departed from Spain I have nothing except two black dresses, for till now those I have brought from thence have lasted me; although I have now nothing but the dresses of brocade.”
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Catherine’s painful account illustrates the hazards of dependency; in this case the sparring of two penurious kings over her dowry caused undue suffering, and her inability to clothe herself appropriately further complicated her unstable position.

Though Henry VIII was more generous than his father, he too withheld clothing as a means of punishment. When Henry married Anne Boleyn, the princess Mary refused to accept that his marriage to her mother, Catherine of Aragon, was invalid, so Henry deprived her of certain clothing and jewels.
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According to Chapuys, Mary was finally forced to ask Henry for clothing, but she remained defiant about her title: “The Princess, finding herself nearly destitute of clothes and other necessaries, has been compelled to send a gentleman to the King. She ordered him to take money or the clothes, but not to accept any writing in which she was not entitled princess.”
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Perhaps the pleasure Mary took in elaborate clothing when she became queen was in part informed by her father’s deprivation tactics when she was younger.
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Stories of Henry’s controlling strategies make the postscript to the Anne of Cleves story especially gratifying, for once she settled into her private life as “queen sister” and could choose how to spend her own money, she delighted in ordering new dresses: Marillac reported to Francis that “Madame de Cleves...far from appearing disconsolate, is unusually joyous and takes all the recreation she can in diversity of dress and pastime.”
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Henry could also be generous on certain occasions. When he was particularly smitten he demonstrated his affection, as did the king in d’Aulnoy’s “The Blue Bird,” by giving elaborate gifts of clothing and jewels. Several scholars have described the exquisite gifts Henry bestowed on Anne Boleyn, especially during their courtship. As Warnicke points out, Henry’s “privy purse accounts, which have survived for the years 1529–32, indicate that he was spending large sums of money on her clothing and other ‘stuff.’”
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Henry’s gifts to Katherine Howard were also elaborate: Henry’s wedding presents included numerous items of costly clothing, jewels, and furs, and the riches continued throughout their short marriage.
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It is not surprising that when Henry was informed of Katherine’s alleged infidelities, he punished her in kind by confiscating the clothing and jewels she had received as queen. Henry directed that during her imprisonment Katherine should be given only a few dresses and that “all of them be without stone or pearl.”
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A king’s interest in a queen’s wardrobe could also be a sign of protecting national honor. When Henry’s younger sister, Mary, was betrothed to Charles V, the king was eager to oversee her trousseau. Henry wrote to the Archduchess Margaret for advice on selecting fabrics, colors, and styles as he wanted to “devise all things so that Mary’s apparel would be queenly and honorable.”
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Mary’s first engagement was later broken off, but Henry was just as involved in planning the wardrobe for her marriage to Louis XII. Maria Perry explains that no expense was spared as “everything was made in silk, cloth of gold, rich brocade or crimson velvet” and that “Mary had been such a generous patron of the London cloth merchants” as she prepared for her wedding that “all the drapers, mercers, and haberdashers in London assembled to bid her farewell.”
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Henry’s domineering interest in the clothing of his wives, sisters, and daughters was perhaps surpassed by François’s interest in the fashion of the women in his royal circle. The French king was especially taken with Italian fashions and asked for particular advice from the powerful Isabella d’Este: “The King wishes My Lady to send him a doll dressed in the fashions that suit you of shirts, sleeves, undergarments, outer garments, dresses, headdresses, and hairstyles that you wear; sending various headdress styles would better satisfy his Majesty, for he intends to have some of these garments made to give to the women in France.”
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Dolls were a known means of conveying fashion trends on a scale that could then be replicated. That a monarch as powerful as François would trouble himself with the seeming minutiae of fashion is a reminder of how significant royal dress was in establishing a court’s identity. Not to be outdone, “Charles V ordered a doll from Paris as a gift for his daughter, possibly to familiarize her with the fashions favored at the court of his main rival, François I.”
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Yassana Croizat argues that François’s interest in dressing the women in his royal circle “was partly motivated by political concerns.

At the time of his accession, the French royal court was still rooted in medieval traditions. François realized that his success as a ruler largely depended on his ability to transform this dusty relic into a gem dazzling enough to command the respect of allies and enemies alike.”
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François’s involvement in women’s fashion may have been partly political, partly prurient, but his overseeing and financing of the royal wardrobes meant that the women receiving his largesse had an obligation to dress according to his sartorial whims; they became versions of the coveted royal dolls.

Reports of the clothing that various queens possessed, exchanged, and wore are relatively plentiful, but one final account illustrates the intimate relationship between a queen and her public dress. In spite of the fact that Mary, Queen of Scots spent years in captivity, her love of fine clothing and accessories remained with her throughout her life. Even as Mary approached her execution—or especially then—she dressed with extraordinary care. One contemporary report does justice to the painstaking detail of her final presentation: “Her attire was this: On her head she had a dressing of lawn, edged with bone lace, a pomander chain and an 
Agnus Dei
 about her neck, a crucifix in her hand, a pair of beads at her girdle, with a golden cross at the end of them, a veil of lawn fastened to her caul, bowed out with wire, and edged round-about with bone-lace, her gown was of black satin printed, with a train and her sleeves to the ground, with acorn buttons of jet, trimmed with pearl, and short sleeves of satin, black cut, with a pair of sleeves of purple velvet whole under them, her girdle whole, of figured black satin, her petticoat skirts of crimson velvet, her shoes of Spanish leather with the rough side outward, a pair of green silk garters, her nether stockings worsted color watch-clocked with silver, and edged on the top with silver, and next her leg a pair of Jersey hose, white... Thus appareled, she departed her chamber and willingly bended her steps towards the place of execution.”
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Mary had repeatedly held on to her status as a queen, and she insisted on that role to the very end through the precise selection of her royal garments.

The queen’s wardrobe was a burden, a luxury, an investment of national resources, and an unavoidable responsibility. A queen was required to dress magnificently to reflect the glory of her position, and in so doing she articulated the standards of fashion for her court and her subjects, which in turn helped formulate a cohesive national identity. The imitation of a queen’s dress, however, had to be limited, either by personal edict or sumptuary legislation, so as to maintain the uniqueness of the royal position. Such delicate manipulation of royal dress was often challenging for queen consorts and princesses dependent upon kings who controlled the dress of the women in their royal circle. All early modern queens, however, accepted that their very identities were determined by their dazzling dress, lessons that numerous fairy tale protagonists also well understood. Although it is tempting for us to view such sartorial obsession as self-indulgence and vanity, the construction and maintenance of the royal image in the early modern period was fashioned by fashion.

CHAPTER 7

THE QUEEN’S BODY: PROMISCUITY AT COURT

“The king was on very intimate terms with a fairy, and he went to see her in order to express the uneasiness he felt concerning his daughters...I’d like you to make three distaffs out of glass for my daughters. And I’d like you to make each one so artfully that it will break as soon as the daughter to whom it belongs does anything against her honor.”

—Marie-Jeanne L’Héritier, “The Discreet Princess;
or The Adventures of Finette”

“The lightness of women cannot bend the honour of men.”

—Francois I’s letter consoling Henry VIII about Katherine Howard’s alleged infidelity

“After saying this, he ordered [the queen] to be thrown into the very same fire she had built for Talia.”

—Basile, “Sun, Moon, and Talia”

“Burn the whore!...Burn her, burn her, she is not worthy to live, kill her, drown her!”

—bystanders in Edinburgh when Mary, Queen of Scots was taken prisoner in 1567

Good queens and bad queens constitute one of the most prominent binaries of the fairy tale genre, a contrast that is also familiar in characterizations of actual queens: Bloody Mary, Wicked Catherine de Médicis, Good Queen Bess. The mutual reinforcement of these moralistic stereotypes in literary and historical representations has contributed to their tenacity, even when fiction and fact both reveal a more complex spectrum of queenly behavior.

Fairy tales are replete with kind and gentle queens who are obedient and deferential to their husbands, devoted to their children, and beloved by their subjects. More memorable are the wicked queens who connive to seize power, manipulate their husbands and sons, threaten their daughters-in-law, compete with other women, and concoct all manner of horrific acts. When Catherine de Médicis invited Jeanne d’Albret to Paris in 1572 to discuss the proposed marriage of their respective children, Marguerite de Valois and Henri de Navarre, the Queen mother reassured her Protestant guest that she would be safe among the Catholics of the French court. Jeanne replied, “Madame, you say that you desire to see us, and not in order to harm us. Forgive me if I feel like smiling when I read your letters. You allay fears I have never felt. I do not suppose, as the saying is, that you eat little children.”
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Jeanne may well have been thinking of the queen in Basile’s “Sun, Moon, and Talia,” who orders the cook to slaughter her husband’s illegitimate children and prepare them for his dinner. Similarly, the wicked queen mother of Perrault’s “Sleeping Beauty,” jealous of her son’s marriage, asks her steward to cook her grandchildren for her own dinner, even requesting a special French sauce to accompany the dish.

Whereas the queen’s evil manifests itself in multiple vengeful and violent ways, an especially egregious site of wrongdoing is sexual transgression. Although the promiscuous or adulterous queen or princess largely disappears from the canon when fairy tales are directed at a younger audience, early modern tales feature various royal women accused or guilty of inappropriate sexual longing and behavior. Although most kings could commit adultery with seeming impunity in fairy tales—as in life—queens charged with similar desires or actions were considered criminals and were spectacularly punished. This chapter considers fairy tale queens who were accused of adultery or promiscuity as well as their historical counterparts: inappropriate sexual behavior, perceived or actual, threatened the reputations and lives of Caterina Sforza, Anne Boleyn, Katherine Howard, Mary, Queen of Scots, Marguerite de Valois, and even Elizabeth, the Virgin Queen. A queen’s sexual impropriety was viewed as more than a private breach of trust and violation of social expectations of ideal female behavior; it was a betrayal of the entire body politic that depended upon the legitimacy of any of the queen’s offspring. Furthermore, popular suspicions about female rule were grounded in general fears that a woman’s innate proclivity to weakness of the flesh meant that she was constitutionally unable to lead a stable government. If a woman could not control herself, she certainly could not control an entire kingdom.