Monday 20 August 2012

New books: Europe’s female monarchs

When Margaret Thatcher was elected Prime Minister of Britain in 1979, it was the first time since Ekaterina II of Russia died and Maria I of Portugal went insane in the 1790s that a European government was led by a woman, states the American historian William Monter in his new book The Rise of Female Kings in Europe, 1300-1800, published by Yale University Press.
Some might perhaps object that there had been several female monarchs in between, but, Monter argues, the advent of constitutional monarchy in the early nineteenth century meant that these queens regnant were not executive heads of state. The women who reigned over European kingdoms during the preceding five centuries were, on the other hand, also heads of government.
There were thirty of them, ranging from the sixteen-year-old Jeanne II, who became Queen of Navarre in 1328, to the forty-two-year-old Maria I of Portugal, whose effective reign came to an end with her mental breakdown in 1792 and the regency of her son from 1799. Except from France, the Holy Roman Empire and the Papal States, female monarchs were found all over Europe, covering the map from Oslo in the north to Palermo in the south, and from Lisbon in the west to Nicosia in the east.
There had, as her numeral alone suggest, been female monarchs even before Jeanne II, and Monter gives an overview of female rule both before 1300 and outside Europe before embarking on his main subject. In Europe, female monarchs before 1300 were mostly found in Latin countries during the twelfth century, and must then be considered anomalies. After 1300, they became a more regular, although still rare occurrence, and, Monter points out, “centered in Christian Europe”, while vanishing from most Asian monarchies. The author identifies two ways through which most female monarchs acceded to their thrones: inheritance from fathers and usurpation by regents.
Monter shows how his list of thirty female monarchs through five centuries might meaningfully be split into two halves to find that most of the fifteen rulers during the first 250 years “were younger women who generally ruled in close association with and often politically subordinated to their husbands”. After 1550, on the other hand, the majority of the female monarchs “governed her kingdom autonomously for at least part of her reign”, while husbands as co-rulers became rarer and were eventually reduced to subordinated positions – if the female monarchs were married at all.
Fernando of Aragón and Isabel of Castile are without doubt the most famous – and arguably the most successful – couple to have served as joint monarchs, but the author highlights the pioneering role of the now mostly forgotten Kingdom of Navarre, which saw unusually many female monarchs, for the concept of joint rule between a queen regnant and her husband (Danish readers might well note that the part of France from which hails the family of Henrik the Prince Consort, who has often voiced the idea that he ought to be King Consort, was subject to the monarchs of Navarre).
When Jeanne II became Queen of Navarre in 1328, she and her husband insisted on a joint coronation, despite official Navarrese opposition, and the reins of power were thereafter left in the hands of the King Consort, Philippe of Evreux. This, which Monter calls “the Navarrese solution to female inheritance”, became the norm throughout Europe for most of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries – although there were of course exceptions. But, the author points out, this solution failed everywhere but in Navarre, and in Navarre itself it eventually unravelled following the death in 1441 of Queen Blanche, whose widower clung on to the throne until his death 38 years later, preventing their son from ascending the throne.
Female regents are not included in this book; although rulers, they held power only temporarily and were not monarchs in their own rights. Nevertheless Monter chooses to take a closer look at some female regents which he considers of great importance for the development whereby it was gradually accepted that women ruled on their own even while married. This, Monter considers, was “greatly assisted by various printed, painted, sculpted, and engraved endorsements of women’s capacities for ruling, [...] the most audacious of these [...] sponsored or commissioned not by female monarchs (whose sovereignty was permanent and divinely ordained) but by eight female regents, each of whom governed a major state for at least five years between 1507 and 1633”.
1550 marks the turning point in Monter’s book. The six queens regnant between 1550 and 1700 were married for a total of only 20 % of their reigns (nineteen of eighty-eight years), and two of them (Elizabeth I of England and Christina of Sweden) never married at all. In England, the husband of Mary I, Philip II of Spain, was accorded the title of King, but a prenuptial agreement left him no independent powers, an act which Monter considers “a watershed in the history of marriages of royal heiresses”.
While the first husband of Mary Queen of Scots was given the crown matrimonial, her second husband received the title of king, but without the right to act on his own, and her third husband did not receive the royal title. At the same time, the Navarrese pattern “broke down in Navarre itself”, where Jeanne III d’Albret, despite strong opposition from the estates, insisted on a joint role with her husband and got her way. But the Queen’s conversion to the Reformed church caused the marriage to break down, and Queen Jeanne and King Antoine found themselves on opposing sides in the religious wars (in which the King was killed).
There were two notable exceptions to the general trend at this time. The joint rule of William III and Mary II of England, Scotland and Ireland was in reality William III’s sole rule, and when the Swedish estates refused to agree to a joint rule, Queen Ulrika Eleonora abdicated in favour of her husband, who became King Fredrik I. But, as the author points out, “England after 1688 looks less like the dawn of modern liberalism than the last gasp of the Middle Ages”. And when William III died and Queen Anne came to the throne, her husband received neither title nor powers.
Like Queen Anne, Western Europe’s two other female monarchs of the eighteenth century – Maria Theresia of Austria, Hungary and Bohemia and Maria I of Portugal – “exercised power while finding various ways to keep their husbands in politically useful but subordinate roles”. And none of the four Russian empresses of the eighteenth century was married at any stage of her reign. So within five centuries, Europe moved from a situation where female monarchs were generally dependent on their husbands to a situation where male consorts, if they existed at all, were generally sidelined and the female monarch exercised her powers on her own. Thus it seems quite ironic that, after the 1790s, 180 years would pass before a woman again became the actual rather than merely symbolic head of a European government.
Monter finds that women did not generally rule very differently from men; “for all the talk about female inferiority and frailty, having a woman as divine-right sovereign made very little practical difference in the way governments actually operated”. However, the reigns of female monarchs were much likelier than those of male monarchs to be prematurely or dramatically terminated. The statistics also show that only 40 % of female monarchs, as opposed to 70 % of male monarchs, were succeeded by their direct descendants.
Monter’s analytical powers seem to be at their sharpest in the earlier parts of the book; towards the end it tends to read too much like a collection of short biographies of female monarchs. The book also suffers from its lack of a final and concluding chapter where the author might have summed up his findings; instead he treats the readers to an epilogue about how female monarchs have been represented in twentieth century films, pointing out that while “[s]uccessful women rulers from Hatsheput to Thatcher have been rulers first and women second [...], popular representations of them have always reversed these aspects because romance sells infinitely better than political power in female hands”.
There are some factual mistakes to be found and, when attempting to cover such a vast field, the author cannot possibly have as sure a grasp on all countries and persons involved. There are, obviously, also some language barriers to struggle with. A Norwegian historian like myself might notice that this colours some of what he writes about the Scandinavian female monarchs. And when covering such a vast topic in little more than 200 pages, there will necessarily be some summarising and generalising which causes some nuances to be lost – for instance one might argue that there were certain variances in Navarre which are lost and that the author’s view of “the Navarrese solution” is somewhat too static.
But although one may occasionally disagree with some of the author’s view, the main impression is that this is a significant contribution to the historiography of European monarchies as well as of female rule. There have in recent years been several studies devoted to female monarchs – among them Charles Beem’s The Lioness Roared: The Problems of Female Rule in English History (2006) and Karin Tegenborg Falkdalen’s Kungen är en kvinna – Retorik och praktik kring kvinnliga monarker under tidigmodern tid (2003), both of them excellent – but William Monter’s book is the first study to cover all Europe and such a large time span. This enables him to see individual queens regnant in an international context and to describe general trends which have until now not been clearly identified. That alone makes this book a study of great value which might well inspire many future works on the challenges which arose when women were kings.

15 comments:

  1. It sounds to be an interesting read, and I will consider obtaining a copy. However, I would like to know what attitude the author adopts towards issues of sexism; unfortunately, many royalty enthusiasts wholeheartedly embrace the sexism, past and present, in the institution of monarchy, with the effect that reading their writings is a bit aggravating if one does not share their views.

    I find it a bit puzzling that in spite of being more progressive in allowing women to rule than many non-Western monarchies, the titulature in Western monarchies is commonly less so. Females of royal lineage are not granted titles equivalent to those of male dynasts, but equivalent to those of female consorts. A female sovereign and a female consort to a male sovereign bear identical titles (for instance Queen), though it would seem more logical for a female sovereign to bear the same title as a male sovereign (for instance King) or a title unique to female sovereigns, when one considers that a female sovereign and a male sovereign fill comparable roles, whereas a female sovereign and a female consort do not. In the same vein, most European monarchies that allow females to reign nevertheless have titled their royal women not in the manner of their brothers, but their brothers’ wives.

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    1. You may be right that "many royalty enthusiasts wholeheartedly embrace the sexism, past and present, in the institution of monarchy", but William Monter is a professional historian, not a "royalty enthusiast".

      As Monter's book shows, the title used by the husbands of female monarchs were mostly that of king - to give him the title of prince is a fairly modern invention.

      Monter, like Charles Beem, points out that the English word "queen" does actually mean a king's wife and Monter therefore follows Beem's lead in referring to these ruling women as "female kings".

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  2. I am far more familiar with the sentiments of "royalty enthusiasts" than professional historians of monarchy, but if Monter and other historians take a more critical approach to sexism and tradition, I should be glad of it.

    Monter, like Charles Beem, points out that the English word "queen" does actually mean a king's wife and Monter therefore follows Beem's lead in referring to these ruling women as "female kings".

    That indeed seems to be more logical than for a ruling woman to adopt the title of a mere consort.

    As Monter's book shows, the title used by the husbands of female monarchs were mostly that of king - to give him the title of prince is a fairly modern invention.

    It is intriguing that one would not know this from reading the comments of present-day admirers of Western monarchies, most of whom insist that giving a queen consort's husband the title of king would be laughable, a breakdown of tradition, "political correctness" run amok, and unthinkable because it would "elevate him above her." I wonder how these historically revisionist assumptions became so widely ingrained?

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    1. To generalise, one might say that historians seek objectivity and truth (to the extent that is possible) while "royalty enthusiasts" tend to be influenced by their enthusiasm.

      Paradoxically, one of the reasons why the husbands of queens regnant were generally accorded the title of king is what me might call sexism today (although applying the term to the medieval age is something of an anachronism). Women were then considered inferior and subject to their husbands, and were therefore expected to either hand the rule of their kingdoms over to their husbands or at least to share the regal powers with him.

      As Monter's book shows, husbands were ultimately sidelined and female monarchs came to rule on their own. And this gradual development roughly coincides with the gradual decrease in granting the title of king to male consorts.

      The husband of Queen Anne of Britain received a British dukedom, but no royal title. The husband of Queen Victoria of Britain received no British title at all until created Prince Consort by Letters Patent in 1857. The last European king consort I can think of was the husband of Isabel II of Spain in the nineteenth century.

      The husband of the current Queen of Denmark has addressed this issue on a number of occasions, arguing that the husband of a queen regnant ought to be king consort. In June 2009 there was a parliamentary majority in favour of granting his wish, but the far right changed their mind and the issue was dropped.

      You might by the way be interested to learn that at the coronations of Queen Christina and Queen Ulrika Eleonora of Sweden they were both proclaimed "King".

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    2. Thank you for those intriguing tidbits of history; it is indeed ironic that titulature now denigrated as "political correctness" by traditionalists was historically justified on sexist grounds.

      I have heard of Prince Henrik's views on the "king" issue, but not of the involvement of the Danish parliament. I was under the impression that the titles of the Danish royal house were left to the discretion of the reigning monarch, as in Sweden; am I mistaken, or was there a special reason why this was seen as a statutory issue?

      I do find it peculiar that the monarchies of Europe have moved faster towards gender equality in succession to the throne than in titulature. In spite of having gender-neutral succession laws, the titulature of the Swedish, Dutch, Belgian, Danish, and Luxembourgish royal houses make distinctions between the husband or children of a queen or princess and the wife or children of a king or prince. And while there is presently no appreciable gender discrimination in Norwegian royal titulature, it remains to be seen what titles would be accorded to the spouses or children of Princess Ingrid Alexandra and Prince Sverre Magnus.

      The actual succession to the throne is a more consequential issue; therefore it is puzzling that resistance to "title equality" should remain even after equal succession has become generally accepted. Is it perhaps because modern Western monarchs, who may be of a more traditionalist bent than their legislatures, are allowed more influence over titles than succession?

      You might by the way be interested to learn that at the coronations of Queen Christina and Queen Ulrika Eleonora of Sweden they were both proclaimed "King".

      Yes, quite interesting! Did they continue to use the title of King following their coronations?

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    3. On the brief parliamentary majority in favour of granting Prince Henrik's wish, please see: http://trondni.blogspot.no/2009/06/prince-henrik-to-become-king-at-75.html

      The issue arose a few days after the Danes voted in favour of introducing gender-neutral succession, causing the Prince Consort to make a remark that this also ought to mean equality in titles.

      Belgium does not make a distinction between the children of a queen or princess and the children of a king or a prince; all the descendants of King Albert II (and their spouses) are princes and princesses of Belgium. It remains to be seen what will be the title of Princess Elisabeth's husband when she becomes queen (if she is married to a man).

      If Denmark will continue to limit the princely title to descedants through male lines now that gender neutral succession has been introduced, we will only know when Princess Isabella has children.

      In a less distant future we will probably get the answer to how Sweden will treat this scenario. When Princess Madeleine was engaged to Jonas Bergström it was announced that he would take the title of duke from her dukedom, but not become a prince - probably this meant that their children would not have been princes either. As Prince Carl Philip and Princess Madeleine are in the exact same position, it would in my opinion be most logical that their spouses are treated in the same way, and if so, Prince Carl Philip's wife will be a duchess, but not a princess. However, it seems we may get the answer to that sooner rather than later.

      In Norway it is up to the monarch to decide about titles for those in line of succession, but judging by recent developments I think it is fairly safe to assume that the children of Prince Sverre Magnus will not be princes, but I am not quite certain about what will be the case with his spouse.

      No, Queen Christina and Queen Ulrika Eleonora were known as such, but were proclaimed as kings at their coronations so that there should be no doubt about what powers they held - in other words it was made explicit that they, although female, they held the office of kings. (Similarly the English Parliament passed an act in 1553 declaring that Mary I held full regal powers).

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    4. By the way, I am currently reading a book on the history of Prague, which says that when Maria Theresia was crowned in Bohemia it was not as "regina" (queen) but as "rex femina" (female king).

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  3. Thank you for the information on the matter of Prince Henrik's title. One of the reports linked in your blog post states that the Parliament must give its appproval the queen's decisions concerning titles. Does this apply only to alterations to tradition, or did the Parliament also have to approve, for instance, Mary Donaldson receiving the title of Crown Princess?

    It is true that there is presently no gender distinction applied to the descendants of King Albert II of Belgium. However, the widow of the king's half-brother bears the title of HRH Princess Alexandre by courtesy, whereas the husbands of the king's half-sisters have no comparable courtesy titles. If the ordinary rules concerning Belgian noble titles also apply to the title Duke of Brabant, which Elisabeth will inherit, then there is also a gender distinction regarding the title of the spouse of the heir apparent.

    In my opinion, it is unlikely that the spouses of Carl Philip and Madeleine will be treated equally. Although this would indeed be logical, that their brother-in-law is Prince Daniel instead of Crown Prince Daniel would seem to indicate that the king wishes to maintain the old gender distinctions.

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    1. I must admit that I am not sure what is the foundation of the claim made by the constitutional expert quoted in the article that changing Prince Henrik's title would require parliamentary legislation. The title of Prince Consort was conferred on Prince Henrik in 2005 and as far as I know Parliament was not involved in this.

      The half-siblings of King Albert are not affected by the new act of succession from 1991 which gives the title Prince(ss) of Belgium to all descendants of Albert II; thus their titles follow the old rules. (One may think that at some stage there will have to be set some limits to this new rule. Albert II has about a dozen grandchildren who might themselves produce some 25-30 great-grandchildren, and then possibly some 50-100 great-great-grandchildren and so on).

      I am not sure if I share your interpretation of King Carl Gustaf's intentions, but time will tell.

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  4. Ah, I see you are correct regarding Belgium: Prince Alexandre’s marriage to Léa Wolman was contracted nine months prior to the 1991 decree that repealed the 1891 decree concerning royal titles. But did the repeal of the 1891 decree strip the king’s half-siblings and half-sister-in-law of their legal titles, which were then retained as courtesy titles? Or were their titles grandfathered in?

    I would be pleased to be wrong on the Swedish king’s intentions, but I cannot think of any other reason, aside from gender, why he would have departed from the Swedish royal tradition that the spouses of successors to the throne bear equivalent titles. Which is to say, the wife of the Crown Prince has always been the Crown Princess, and the wife of a Prince, a Princess.

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    1. I do not think that the 1891 decree being replaced by the new act of succession worked retroactively - I imagine another decree would have been needed to deprive those who already had titles of these.

      I was told by a by now former courtier that the issue of Prince Daniel's title was considered very thoroughly ahead of the wedding. The interesting part of it is, in my opinion, that Prince Daniel was allowed to take on his wife's dukedom, which I think was a logical consequence of the fact that dukedoms are now also granted to princesses, following the introduction of gender-neutral succession in 1980.

      Obviously it remains to be seen what will be his title once his wife comes to the throne, but I would be very surprised if he were to become king. (It might be worth noting that Queen Ulrika Eleonora's husband also was not king during her reign).

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  5. Did the former courtier attest that gender factored into the king's decision regarding his son-in-law's title? As I mentioned, I cannot conceive of another explanation for why the tradition followed by royal wives was not followed in his case.

    I would be very surprised if he were to become king.

    I am interested as to the reason: because of the Ulrika Eleonora precedent, the intentions of Crown Princess Victoria (which have not been publicized as far as I know), or another reason?

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    1. Prince Daniel's gender was obviously the reason why one had to think through what to do about his title, as there was no precedence.

      I would be surprised for the reasons that 1) this is the current practice in Europe and has been so for "as long as anyone can remember", 2) that the title King is so widely associated with the position of head of state that many would find it odd if it suddenly belonged to someone else, 3) that the draft for the new Act of Succession proposed that "prince" should be the title of the husband of a queen regnant. (This is not to say that I would necessarily agree with such a decision, but this is what I expect will happen).

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  6. Thank you; I fully concur with your expectation, and the reasons as well. It is for the same reasons that I earlier expressed the view that it is unlikely that the spouses of Prince Carl Philip and Princess Madeleine will be treated the same way: While it would indeed be logical for the husband of a female heir to be titled in the same way as the wife of a male heir, and likewise logical for the wife of a junior prince to be titled in the same manner as the husband of a junior princess, tradition associations seem to take precedence in the matter of titles, even after the succession has been equalized.

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    1. I see your point, but still I think treating the husband of a junior princess and the wife of a junior prince the same way would be less innovative or "revolutionary" than allowing Prince Daniel to become king. But I suppose we will soon know the answer to this.

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