Political theory and political reality were forced into an awkward encounter across the courts of Europe in the early modern period. The disjuncture between a theory of political counsel predicated on male participants and a political reality of female political actors—due to an unprecedented number of Queens regnant and other powerful women in the early modern period—requires scholarly scrutiny. Although the topic has been studied with reference to individual queens, this collection represents the first attempt to study the relationship between queenship and counsel from a pan-European perspective.
For centuries before the period in question here, counsel had been an essential part of European political thinking.1 Medieval theory placed it into the hands of the politically disengaged philosopher—Aristotle serving as the model2—but also made it the political right of the noble class, as a means of ensuring that they were given a voice in the decisions of the state.3 When this right was not respected, monarchs could be justifiably overthrown, as was the case with Richard II—Richard the “redeless” (or adviceless)—in England in 1399.4 With the spread of Renaissance humanism, philosopher was married with courtier in the crafting of a new kind of counsellor, who tempered truthful advice with an awareness of decorum, as evidenced in Baldassare Castiglione’s Book of the Courtier (1528; English translation 1561). Such a figure ought to combine “knoweleage of the truth” with “Courtliness” so “In the wise maye he leade him, throughe the toughe way of vertue (as it were) deckynge yt aout with boowes to shadowe yt and strawinge it over wyth sightlye flouers”.5 A similar sentiment is expressed in Thomas More’s Utopia (1516), through the character of Morus, who recommends an “indirect approach” and a “more civil philosophy” (philosophia ciuilior)6 “that takes its cue, adapts itself to the drama in hand and acts its part neatly and appropriately” or “cum decoro”.7
By the middle of the sixteenth century, however, such a figure became the object of deep suspicion. The reason was the rise of Machiavellianism—a political perspective based on, though not always faithful to, the writings of Niccolò Machiavelli, primarily Il Principe (written in 1513 and published posthumously in 1532). Machiavelli reversed the humanist model of counsel, in which the prince is “led” or “instructed” by his counsellor, instead suggesting that “it is an infallible rule that a prince who is not himself wise cannot be soundly advised, unless he happens to put himself in the hands of a man who is very able and controls everything” in which case the prince “would not last long, because such a governor would soon deprive him of his state”.8 Rhetoric, the tool of the humanist counsellor, was especially distrusted for its ability to “move” or manipulate the emotions of the hearer. In such a case, who truly ruled: prince or counsellor? For this reason, the middle of the century onwards saw an increase in the recommendation of books of history as counsel/counsellors, as well as counsellors who simply related the lessons of such books. Hence the popular maxim “the best counsellors are the dead”, for “the penne is of a more free condition then the tongue”.9 In the later sixteenth century, the rise of Reason of State literature—a phenomenon first described in print by Giovanni Botero in 1589—meant that the attention shifted to the “observations” of neighbouring states, including their geographical positions, policies and “interests” with the aim of advancing one’s own state interest over that of the others. It was, in short, a far cry from the virtuous courtiers of the humanist tradition and began to look much more like the realist political “science” of the modern period.
In the middle of the century, these changes in the discourse of counsel collided with an evolving political reality: the accession of several queens regnant (including Mary and Elizabeth Tudor of England and Mary, Queen of Scots), the rising power of Catherine de’ Medici in France, and significant roles for women (Margaret of Austria and Margaret of Parma) as governors of parts of the Holy Roman Empire. The discourse of political counsel, in all of its forms, was based on the participation of men, both as counsellors and the counselled.10 Women were not only thought of as external to the political sphere, but also were not seen to have the requisite skills to give political counsel, and thus their counsel was largely feared and rejected.11
In the humanist tradition, counsel was meant to impart reason, and prudence was the primary virtue associated with the counsellor. Women were almost consistently thought to lack both.12 Partly, this was because they could not possibly have the political experience requisite for such a virtue—women end up excluded from politics because they had been excluded from politics—but it also had to do with a long-standing tradition of seeing women’s advice on many matters as irrational, self-interested and dangerous. One of the best known rejections of women’s counselling abilities and activities was provided by John Knox in 1558 as a reaction to what he saw as the failing state of Europe. According to Knox , women’s
sight in civile regiment, is but blindness: their strength, weaknes: their counsel, foolishenes … Nature I say, doth paynt them furthe to be weake, fraile, impatient, feble and foolishe: and experience hath declared them to be unconstant, variable, cruelle and lacking the spirit of counsel and regiment.13
Knox’s
perspective that women lacked the spirit and discipline for counsel reflected the historical perspective that arguably dated from St Paul. As the discourse of counsel shifted across the sixteenth century from
humanism to Machiavellianism
to
Reason of State, women’s counsel was further mistrusted and excluded, as many of the contributions to this volume will show.
Furthermore, throughout the early modern period, counsel was often presented figuratively as the female counterpart to male sovereignty.
14 The most famous and explicit example of this is in the work of
Francis Bacon, who in his essay on counsel writes
… they say Iupiter did marrie Metis (which signifieth Counsell.) … shee conceiu’d by him, and was with childe, but Iupiter suffered her not to stay till shee brought fourth, but eate her vp; whereby hee became with child and was deliuered of Pallas, armed out of his head. Which montrous fable containeth a secret of Empire: How Kings are to make vse of their Counsell of state.15
Female counsel was married to male sovereignty, with sovereignty the superior, but this was all figurative; women were not meant to be any part of this process.
Yet, as this volume shows, they were participants in the complex interplay between counsel and sovereignty. This volume includes essays analyzing more than 300 years of European royal history through the lens of the relationship between queenship and counsel. The study of queens and queenship, alongside that of women and early modern politics, has been a lively field of research in recent years. Works on individual queens are too numerous to list but scholars have increasingly emphasized the importance of considering all queens—consort, regnant and dowager—as political agents with significant roles to play in governance and diplomacy.
England’s queens regnant, Mary and Elizabeth Tudor, have been the focus of particular attention. In a volume celebrating the quincentenary of Mary Tudor as England’s first ruling queen, Joanne Paul highlighted the “conciliar compromise” reached by Mary as she navigated her unprecedented position.16 Valerie Schutte has published on Mary I and the Art of Book Dedications, noting the advice given to Mary I in dedicatory epistles.17 Anna Whitelock and Alice Hunt’s collection Tudor Queenship analyzes the dynamics of counsel in the reig...